Equipment shakedown - Day 2 From Zeeland Mountain to Guyot basecamp, then out and back to South and North Twin (theoretically)

There are 3 key factors in every backpacking trip.

1. Planning
2. Equipment
3. Physical abilities

It was on Day 2 that the Equipment factor weighed in. First and foremost there are The Socks. On Day 1 I wore my well worn Smartwool Ombre Crew No. Technically they are not hiking socks but after many hikes they are unequivocally the best socks for my awesome Asolo TPS 520 GV Hiking Boots. After many hikes they are also literally threadbare and it became painfully clear this was their last hike.

Next in importance in the backpacking lineup is The Pack. The right pack carries all your stuff comfortably, is easy to keep organized and accessible, while at the same time weighing as little as possible. My Gregory Z55 Pack Backpack[the blue one!] fits the bill. It fits the stuff, weighs very little, and is easy to organize. S., on the other hand, is still mid quest for the perfect pack and after one day had the sore hips and shoulders to prove it. We hiked from the camp on Zeeland to our basecamp at Mt. Guyot where we set up the MSR Hubba Hubba on a nice platform overlooking the Pemi Valley. The Z55 compressed right down into a manageable day pack which we loaded with a day’s worth of food, and fleeces and took off for South Twin.

This is when the poles became indispensable. The Twinway between Guyot and South Twin runs along a low forested rim. The perfect conditions for creating a 2 mile snow pile or monorail. If it weren’t for the poles we’d have been post holing all the way.

We reached the summit of South Twin around 1:30 and pulled on our cozy fleeces against the cold wind. The view was beautiful. Looking toward North Twin, and looking at the map, then back at the 1.5 mile trail between South and North Twin, then again at the map, I realized I would again, just as I had in July of 2007, have to leave that summit for another day. One thing about good equipment, in this case maps, is that no matter how good they are, you really have to use them.

Back at Base Camp we fired up the pocket rocket, cooked an edible dinner of curry chicken, and before the sun set crawled into our sleeping bags. At 4000 ft, in May, temperatures are bound to fluctuate and on this night they were fluctuating downwards. Quickly. When I crawled into my 45 degree bag I was wearing my techwick tops and bottoms, heavy socks, and heavy fleece. Regardless I soon discovered my bag was failing. The down had clumped and areas of the bag were completely empty. It was going to be a long night. When I did sleep, I dreamed of warm, fluffy synthetic sleeping bags.

A Long Weekend in the Pemigawasett Wilderness

After a long debate on bon bon eating vs. backpacking S. and I choose the later for a long Memorial Day weekend. The only remaining question was - could we survive?

The plan was to circumnavigate the wildernerness, in a counter-wise direction, from Crawford Notch in 5 days. We'd start by climbing the mountains and finish up with some nice easy days in the flats. Sounds good so far.

Then we looked a little closer at the maps and parked Moby at the Zeeland Road trailhead. Substituting some rather tough climbs for an easy 2 miles into Zeeland Hut. There were trilliums along the trail everywhere, both the white and even a few purple. It was lovely. The falls too were magnificent as was the view from Zeeclift. The hike up to Zeeclift was a little tough, but the view was great. Looking out over the Pemigawasett, the very area we'd be hiking in the upcoming days was inspiring. The weather too was good. Sunny, and moderately warm. Somewhere in the 50s, I'd guess. Which made the snow so much more unexpected. But there it was right there in the path where the hiker we'd met earlier said it would be. All mounded up into what he so descriptively called a "monorail". Considering that the trail was very narrow and the undergrowth alongside, very thick, there was no choice but to walk, and sometime posthole, over the monorail.

By the time we reached the peak of Zeeland Mountain (another4000fter bagged for S.), we were tired. Although 2 miles short of our intended destination, we pitched the Hubba Hubba, ate a hearty dinner of Backpackers Pantry Cashew Chicken Curry and called it a night. Tomorrow we would establish a base camp at Mt. Guyot, then ascend South and North Twin.

Vise-Grips from Heaven?

This morning I was tooling along on my bike when I noticed a pair of vise-grips laying in the road. There was still 2/3rds of the commute left and only an hour to get to work and to shower, so I rode on.

But it began to seem strange. Good tools rarely lie around in the road. Last year I'd also seen (and picked up) a pair of vise-grips while riding, and that had been my second found pair. The year before, I'd also rescued a pair off the road. Was this some kind of annual sign. Not superstitious, but not willing to tempt fate, I turned around and picked up this pair too. Were the tools gods telling me something? Was there something I needed to get a grip on?

Come to think of it, I had spent the morning stressing over little things and ignoring the bigger, and better aspects of life. I took a deep breath, changed perspective and pedaled on.

As a great American poet, Robert Frost, once wrote:

The way the vise-grips lay before me
on the Road to Westerly
Made me have a change of mood
and saved a part of a day I'd rued.

Ride Forest Ride*

Why, exactly, would someone ride their bike 42 miles through the 5 Boros of New York City in the rain? Why for that matter would 30,000 people do the same, on the same day, at the same time?

Honestly, I can not provide the definitive answer but I have some ideas. Even as we waited in the early morning drizzle for the Staten Island Ferry to take us to Manhattan, and then again, on the Ferry, loaded in the car hold bike-to-bike-rider-to-bike it became more than apparent that this was a special, self-selected group. The bikes ran from "sit up and begs" to hard tail mountain bikes, to finely tuned road racing machines. The people ranged from grandmothers in pumps, to kids in street cloths, to baby boomers in matching cone head adorned helmets. As different as they were, they all shared the notion that this ride was something that needed to be done.

One newspaper account attributed that notion to a sense of fair play stating "runners have the marathon as their chance to take over the city. Bicyclest need their day." But as we waited an hour and half on Broadway just to get to cross the finish line. I couldn't vouch for that. Hopeful riders weren't talking about that, they were mostly telling bike stories, strategizing the upcoming miles, and waiting. Patiently waiting, more patiently waiting than I. To be honest, I almost dropped out after an hour of waiting in the drizzle, knowing the rain was coming, knowing that I would, if I stayed, be riding through city streets, not with cars, but will All These People.

Once we did get going, the ride proceeded at about 5 mph. Riders weaving in an out, passing, stopping, taking pictures, talking with friends. For me, it was physically a very easy ride, but mentally, it was exhausting. One second of inattention and you could skid out in the rain or simply run into a fellow cyclist. There were lots of accidents, some serious. Somewhere in Queens I watched a mountain bike fishtail right in front of roadbike that subsequently went airborn. On the Verrazano bridge the crowd had to slow for a biker on the side of the road. He was under a blanket with a leg extending out at an awkward, unnatural angle. For an idea of what 'riding' involved, take a look at the video shot from some rider's handlebar camera. This was how it was for 5.5 hours.



The route wound all over the city, from Broadway, thru Central Park, down the FDR Highway, over the Queensborough Bridge, over a bunch of other bridges, through Brooklyn, past the Navy Yard, over the Verazzano Bridge and back to Staten Island. Some of the places we rode by were really cool. Places I've always wanted to visit and can now say I have. But honestly, I didn't see much of them, unless you count my knowledge of the road surface.

Reading over various comments made on youtube, flickr and blogs, I'm also not the only one who feels this way, So I have to think that also like me some of the riders were there not necessarily for the ride (honestly there are better ways to get in a good 42 mile ride) but for the experience of riding.

Rain or shine, this is a one-of-a-kind ride. A riding experience that can't be gained anywhere else. Riding a bike, a simple but elegant mode of human powered transportation all around the worlds biggest city. Holding cars and pedestrains at bay for hours even as enthusiastic citizens of that same city cheer on the thousands and thousands of bikers pedaling by in the rain. It's just an incredible experience and one that I and everyone else was able to share with 29,999 other bike riders.

...and as always, made ever more enjoyable by having 1 great riding companion!

*Title supplied by KK!

Bike Commuting Begins

I used to joke about riding my bike to work. After all it sounded good and...I only lived 2 blocks away. Well now the commute is 17 miles, and the joke isnt' so funny. Even so the commute has begun! Today I just rode home (Moby is spending the night at MSM). It was a great ride. Tomorrow morning there will be a ride back. That's as far as the plan stands at this point.

Whale Street

Killing whales never really appealed to Giselle. But after being 'layed off' following nine years working in hedge funds she figured it couldn't be too bad. Besides she really wouldn't be killing the whales, they were long dead. Even extinct. Blubber, boiled for oil or some such thing. She would just be using her trading talents to sell 'the rich history of whaling.' She didn't see much difference...except she wasn't sure stilettos were the right shoe. They kept sticking into the cracks of the boat's floor.

...And a strange-looking man with a full beard, perhaps even unwashed, kept staring at them.

"The crew usually went barefoot" he noted. "The Morgan often sailed for five or six years without making landfall. Shoes wore out after only a few months."

She smiled, nodded, and looked away. "Um, thank you."

"Can you imagine being out of sight of land for five years? Spending your days chasing The Big Leviathan? Cutting it up into small 'bibles of blubber' and standing on the deck, stirring the oil as the black smoke rolls across the deep blue sea?"

"Pardon?"

"Whaling! It was a man's life!"

"Oh," she realized," You must be one of those interpreters?"

"Yes mam," he replied.

She looked at her watch, glanced over at the ground. She wasn't sure she could wait much longer. Matt said he would brief her here 'on the deck' at 3:00. It was 3:10 and she didn't want to talk about the 'deep blue sea' or a 'man's life' for another second. She was here to save this place, to bring in the big money. Not to talk about whaling.

"Have you seen Matt Hawthorn lately?" she asked the unwashed one.

"Why. Mr. Hawthorn is just off the port bow."

"Where?"

He pointed to land to the right and front of the boat.

Giselle sighed, how much of this historic horse stuff, nautical lingo would she have to endure? Maybe she could still go back to the Street, a few less thousand a month wasn't so bad.

A Short Rant: Earth Day

Every day should be Earth Day. Or, as studly says, "One day a year is just to assuage people's guilt."

What I say is - we don't need to save the earth, we need to stop messing it up. (Usually I use a more 'graphic' term).

What to do? Live an "Earth Life." Pledge today that when you leave here, no one will know you were here. Live a "Leave no trace" kinda life...and stop printing, selling, buying Earth Day stuff. Stop buying anything. Just stop. And I will now, stop ranting.

An Ode to Gore-Tex

When spring hikes follow showers
And mud fills in the trail
When the sun rises through mist at an early hour
And the day ends with a hearty ale,

Then it's time to salute the Gores,
Robert, Rowena and Wilbert.
Those saviors of all small, dry pores
Those inventors of ultimate water resistance.

But 'tis not Robert's induction in the hall of fame
Nor fluorosurfactant perfluorooctanoic acid
For which we toast his name.

It's the fact that we can hike all day,
In wind, and snow and rain
And all the time stay toasty dry
Through the 100 mile wilderness of Maine.

monday the 30 day I ffecthed my wifes mare

This week, in between hikes, when the rain was falling or threatening to fall I've been hanging out with Thomas Minor. One of the first people to keep a record of life in Stonington, Ct. Minor records his monthly activities from 1653-1684, as he clears farms, hunts, raises a family, deals with local politics, and does every day things. Intended only for his own record keeping the entries are a bit terse but they do remind me of some tweets you read these days. And reading between the lines you do get a sense of what life was like.

For instance - here what he recorded for March of 1668:

the .6. day Thomas Tracie and leaffingwell was heare the .7. dai I branded .2. Coults [colts] I sowed hemp & pease in the orchard sabath day the .8. day: sabath day the 15. The 13. I was at mr palmes I had A barell of mallases [molasses] wensday the 18. we made an End between Jossepth & Marie Averie monday the 30 day I ffecthed [fetched] my wifes mare and 26. day Thursday we trained fryday .31.

It was while starting to research the history of Barn Island that I came across the diary. Surprisingly enough there are a few others kept by people who lived in that area around that time. Venture Smith, Joshua Hempstead (1711 To November, 1758), and Minor's son Manassah keeps one from 1696 to 1720. The person I wish had kept a diary, Thomas Stanton, was apparently too busy translating and trading with the natives to write anything down. He certainly sounds like an interesting guy and one who's history is closely connected to the Barn Island area.

The diary is available for free through the Internet Archive: http://www.archive.org/details/diarythomasmino00minogoog, or you can buy a hardcover reprint through amazon.The Diary Of Thomas Minor, Stonington, Connecticut: 1653-1684 (1899)

Carolina Management Area

The quality that makes Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail
the most-loved book of the AT (Appalachian Trail) crowd is not that it just describes a fantastic hike, but that it describes that and all the other things that make a walk a hike; the history, geology, plants, animals and people that you meet along that hike. I have never laughed so hard, nor so nervously as when he discussed the Bear issue, nor appreciated the history of the Appalachian people, the chestnut blight, or the community that develops among the thru-hikers, until I read that book.

This past weekend S and I hiked more trails in Arcadia and in the Carolina Management Area, again with the guidance of Ken Weber's Weekend Walks in Rhode Island: 40 Trails for Hiking, Birding & Nature Viewing, Fourth Edition. Ken (we've spent so much time together lately we've become friends) does a great job of picking interesting loop hikes and providing useful maps and written directions to keep even the most directionally-challenged hiker on the trail. He also points out the locations of abandoned cellars, forest cemeteries and the occasional outstanding tree, however, I'd suggest a few more additions.

• Geology - Rhode Island has had an intimate relationship with the glacier that spread over North America a few years ago leaving drumlins, glacial moraines, erratics, and kettles. Many of these which one runs into while hiking.
• Plants - I love trees. Especially the big tall ones. Fagus grandifolia, Quercus alba, and my personal favorite, Liriodendron tulipifera Give me a virgin forest and I'm speechless, heck a few hundred years of unchecked growth will silence me for minutes. And then there is the Hemlock. A beautiful, majestic member of the pinus family that is under attack by the Woolly Adelgid. Saturday we walked for 2 miles through a forest of dying Hemlocks. Once tall, regal giants, some over 3 feet in diameter, now bald. We crawled over the littered remains in the understory. Here and there a small white pine poked through the brush but it was all very sad and all needing a few lines to explain the life story of our long-loved plants.
• History - One cannot walk more than a few miles anywhere in New England without running along a stone wall, a cemetery or an abandoned house or stone cellar. I see those and I see a glimpse of the people who once lived here. Maybe it's the historian in me, maybe it's really the romantic, but I love to stand at the threshold, look around at the lay of the land, the run of the stonewalls, the probable site of the barn, the apple orchard, the lane to town, and think of what it was like to live here when they did. What that area did for them, and what nature is doing with it now. Every hike book should include the history of the area.
  

Back to the Carolina Management Area. It's a great place to hike. It has everything. Fields. Trees (big ones). Cemeteries. Abandoned farms. Oh, and a trout stream (if you're into that sort of thing)

Of course Ken isn't putting out any new editions, and I doubt I'll get around to it. But it's always nice to dream.

Arcadia Wildlife Management Area

This past weekend, with temperatures in the 60's, and snow on the ground, we headed to nearby Arcadia. It's a great place to hike with over 30 miles of trails wandering over 13,817 acres. We hiked the Mount Tom and Shelter Trails through beautiful pine forests and up onto ledges looking out over the whole snow-blanketed state. We also bagged two of Rhode Island's 400 fters. We, or mostly I, also pondered the existential question - is there a single definitive map of the trails?

We've been using Weekend Walks in Rhode Island: 40 Trails for Hiking, Birding & Nature Viewing, Fourth Edition as our Rhode Island hiking guide. It's a very good guide to the best trails and it certainly did a good job of pointing out the trails, and trail highlights for both weekend hikes. The maps, however, for the trails, just aren't complete.

Bill's Wild Outdoors posts some maps of Arcadia, divided into North and South by RT 165. http://newportvisions.com/home/arcadia3.html - but all the trails there don't match the ones on the ground.

The Rhode Island New England Mountain Biking Association also posts North South Maps of Bike trails superimposed on topo maps: http://www.rinemba.org/arcadia-management-area/.

But all in all, or rather my anal-retentive love of good maps aside, Arcadia is a great place to hike, and even more so when you've got the best hiking buddy ever.

The 400 fter's Club - Hiking Rhode Islands' Mountains

While small in size and low in height, the state of Rhode Island is plenty diverse in geography. From drumlins to erratics, from pine barrens to dense hardwood forests there is plenty to see, plenty of places to hike. But sometimes, hiking aimlessly, wandering hither and yon gets a bit umm, aimless. Especially for the more goal oriented of us hikers. And so it is with the acheivement oriented in mind that the 400 fter's club was born.

Can't make it to New Hampshire?
Not in shape (yet) for the big ones?
Leery of sudden blizzards?
Want to hike but have to get to Mom's for dinner by 6:00?

Go Peak Bagging in Rhode Island!

A list of the 50 heighest peaks (all above 400 ft) and their locations is at:

http://www.mountainzone.com/mountains/highest-peaks.asp?s=RI

Still to do:

1. Determine the patch design. -I'm nominating a chicken climbing a hill
2. Select award dinner location
3. Compose detailed peak criteria - i.e a peak must be 20' lower/higher than the nearest peak...
4. Compose fancy excell spread sheet for recording peak, date hiked, trail taken, etc.
   
5. OH - and hike the darn hills.
   

PS I've got Mt. Tom and Penny Hill

Return to Piney Island

Funny to think that less than two weeks ago I was walking around in a t-shirt where I was now skiing.

This time however, I remembered to bring a camera so I can share a bit.

Adventures in a Recession

The defining characteristic of the latest adventure is that unlike others, this one comes to you. Most adventures involve making a plane reservation, driving a car, or at the very least getting on a bike, but this one, this one I don't have to do anything but sit and watch it flow over me and my fellow adventurers. And folks we're all in this one together.

Technically an economic recession is defined as:

"a significant decline in [the] economic activity spread across the country, lasting more than a few months, normally visible in real GDP growth, real personal income, employment (non-farm payrolls), industrial production, and wholesale-retail sales."

<sup>Personally I'd define it as:

"a period in which the general population makes significant changes to their daily habits in reaction to the feeling that "holy s$%t, we could/have loose/lost our jobs/savings/homes at any minute."

The noted changes vary greatly, and include but are not limited to:

1. forming facebook groups entitled "If I get laid off I'm going to be a gypsy"
2. going back to school
3. leaving a satisfying, but low paying job for a higher paying but not so cool one
4. selling off your personal hedge fund
5. selling off some of your toys (anyone want to buy a yakima bike rack?)
6. shopping at Walmart.
7. checking out books from the library instead of buying them
8. watching more tv, going out less.
9. pirating music
10. spending more time online...making lists.</sup>

End of one Adventure, the beginning of another

Retail, and shopping have always been the backbone of the American economy. So little did I know, two Decembers ago when I chronicled the highs and lows of working retail, I was documenting what might be the end of an era. Certainly it was the end of an era for me. What with moving, and EMS drastically cutting employee work hours, I am no longer working there and will probably never work retail again. From discussions with other EMSer's and watching the nightly news however, it is clear that retail, as an industry, and also as a pastime, has also reached the end of the adventure.

Watching shoppers storm the doors and paying full price for TNF Denallis and UGG boots this Christmas, even as the layoffs and recession had already begun I wondered, no I sincerely doubted that America could give up its shopping addiciton. I too have struggled with a bit of shopperholic syndrom, debating what and/or how much to buy before loosing my employee discount. How many pairs of smartwool socks and Asolo 520 boots are really enough? Will I someday want to go winter camping, and if so should I get the 0 degree bag? And what about the cute little Timbuktu mini messenger bag that I've had my eye on for months, but really have no need for. Should I get it now? Not that I need it. But for that matter, no one ever Needs UGG boots.

If I, minimilist that I am, am having this much problem giving up shopping (or rather buying) then what about the rest of America? What about those who on the most beautiful sunny spring day would come to the mall to buy hiking sneakers? (While I wanted to be hiking!) Now that they can't buy, what will happen to those who have have come to buy the experience rather than do it?

Take the Average American on an Average Weekend Day - you know the one they work all week for. What do they do? Well, traditionally they sleep late, work around the house, visit friends and shop. Did you know those same average American's spend 90 percent of their lives indoors. Who knows what the percent was that they spent shopping. But what will they do now? They could still shop. Shopping does not mandate buying, but it is bound to happpen. That is where the gratification comes in. Put it off as long as you want but if you spend all your time looking at stuff you utimately know you can't buy - it just sucks the fun out it.

So what will American's Do? As the economy continues to tank and spending becomes less and frequent what will fill the void? What brave new American will replace the American consumer? It is an adventure into the unknown.

Barn Island - aka Piney Island

Yesterday I walked around Barn Island alone. S. is away - hence the pinning. But... in the last eight years I've walked all over that place at all times of the year. I've kayaked it spring through fall, and walked it fall through spring (too darn many ticks in the summer). I've seen the Burdick graveyard, the Wiccan Oak, the rock moved by Venture Smith, and the sweet gum trees in their fall blaze but I've yet to see a Barn and I even in the highest of tides I doubt very much that it is an Island.

Other People's Adventures

I'm just so thrilled for Bethany that I have to take a break from the usual posts to give her a "shout out". Being a published author is so cool, and a maritime author! Amazing! But so it is. Bethany Bromwell's name will even auto fill when you type it into the amazon search box. Her book?

Mothers of the Sea: Female Lighthouse Keepers and Their Image and Role Within Society ,
the definitive work on women lighthouse keepers. Considering how interesting and informative her presentation at the Luncture was, I can't wait to get the book.

Monadnock and Microspikes

Yesterday S. and I, and a lot of other like minded people headed up Mt. Monadnock. Only the white dot and white cross trails were open so in some ways it was a bit like walking up and down a highway but it was a white highway to an icy summit with 50 knot winds. As always good gear played a major role in the hike. Along with techwick and smartwool, winter hiking boots and windbreakers we also tried Kahtoola Microspikes. While some of the hikers had nothing on their boots, some had full mountainering crampons and some summitted with snowshoes, the Microspike folks were the ones with the perfect gear for the day. They were easy to put on, stayed on with no trouble, didn't add any drag and really dug into the solid ice sheets that were the last mile of the trail. Definitely a good addition to the gear closet for anyone who does winter hiking.

Glacier Park - Westerly

Yesterday the temps rose to 47 degrees and it was sunny! So....I decided to check out a local park and see how the trails ran. Glacier Park turned out to be a nice little plot of 134 acres. There are several trails through the park and if you link the white and blue it'll make a good hour walk with views of the Atlantic Ocean and a sweet little moraine kettle.

Photo map of the park

Moving to Westerly gonna eat a lot of oysters*

*sung to the tune of "Peaches" by the Presidents of the USA.

Today, a bright clear 28 degree day with snow in the afternoon forecast, is moving day. Actually big stuff moving day. I've been packing and moving the little stuff for a week now.

One thing that has really amazed me in the packing process is how much stuff I accumulated in 9 years. Yes. It's been 9 years that I've lived in the little apartment in Mystic and in that amount of time the amount of stuff I have has grown from a pick up truck load to a 16' rental truck load...and I'm throwing lots out too! (PS If anyone needs dishes, books, towels, a piece of furniture or two, or wants a few good books, be sure and stop by sometime in the next few weeks).

The funny thing is, the more I get rid of the better I feel. This of course, does not apply to the toys. Probably the most significant category of growth has been in the toy department, and those I'm not throwing out at all. I've gone from one bike, to two bikes, one kayak, two tents, three backpacks, cross country skis, snowshoes and all the related gear. I love my toys. But the furniture, dishes, towels, paintings, etc. ehh.

But back to moving. So today we pack it all the stuff up and move it to Westerly where most will wait patiently in their little boxes and bags until 1. I need them. 2. We arrive at our final destination (unknown at present).

Millions of oysters oysters for me