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

Biking the Canals

To most people, Washington DC means monuments and politics but after a a few days along the Potomac all I could think of was bike riding. Sure the Lincoln Monument is impressive, and all the activity around the White House is historic and the Smithsonian is the mother of all museums but it was the lure of the traffic-free bike path that held my attention during a recent visit.

It all started at a place called Great Falls, a few miles Northwest of the capital, where our hosts took us to see the rapids, told us about the kayakers who run the falls and the history of the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal. Back in the early 1800's George Washington (yes that George Washington) and others decided that running a canal along the Potomac would be a great way to expand commerce and exploration with the west. After several years, numerous setbacks and lots of lost money the canal was finished, used briefly and abandoned, only to be resurrected as a bike path. And a really cool one at that. Not only that, with the addition of the Great Allegheny Passage Trail a biker with moderately wide tires can ride the 318 miles all the way from DC to Pittsburgh!

What could be cooler you ask? Well, perhaps a ride along the Erie Canal? Not only does it have a bike path as well, it also was a successful canal. (My theory on why one was successful and the other not has to do with one, the C & O being located alongside a river prone to massive flooding while the other, while harder to build, didn't flood, stayed built and by the way, drew on a much larger hinterland) But regardless, and more importantly both make awesome bike paths and a huge quandary. Given that one might only have one week for bike touring in a given summer, which ride should one take?

I want an alien for Christmas

So... the irony continues. It appears that there is something I want this year for Christmas. It occurred to me the other night while working at EMS. One of our patrons got the most puzzled look on their face, apparently in response to a song that was playing on our musac disk. The song, "I want an alien for Christmas" by Fountains of Wayne, is a catchy, upbeat, slighly off beat little Christmas tune that I thought was somewhat mainstream. Well, it appears I've been working the holidays at EMS a little too long. The public is not familiar with this endearing Christmas tune. A tune more classic and generous in its Christmas spirit than "Silent Night". This tune is about universal, even global getting.

It is in that spirit that I have nominated this song as the offical EMS - Waterford theme song, and the best Christmas song of 2008, and in that spirit, I would like to share this song with you.

Adventures of a Nomad

Ironic that the previous post to this one, and this new series of adventures is one listing things I want, because right now what I want most is to get rid of stuff. Looking into the crystal ball (another thing I have to get rid of) it looks like I'll be moving for at least the coming 6 months, if not more.

Looking around the apartment, my home for the last 9 years, I realized there is a lot of stuff. Even considering that I brought little, and even went through clear out phases every year or so. Still there is stuff. More stuff than a nomad can reasonable carry along. One the one hand I could almost (almost) just walk out and leave it all. On the other, I've been giving select items to folks who would obviously enjoy it, and well, I've been packing some books, clothes and toys. Selecting the best of the years accumulations. Will be interesting to see how much of that is persistent. How much is the same stuff I brought and therefore thought was important 9 years ago and remains so today. Aside from some furniture I doubt there is much of that.

But the immediate question, the bigger question, is what to do with what's left. How to best pass that along to more landed folks. It's good stuff, and somehow there is an attachment to it and finding it a good home seems necessary.

Excellent Christmas Present Suggestions

International Ficus Rescue Association

Mr. X,

Each year millions of innocent baby ficus trees are purchased by well-meaning, but unprepared 'plant lovers'. Plant lovers who have no idea of the amount of time, attention and resources necessary to sustain a ficus tree from a fragile twig to the robust, strong, sheltering tree we all know and love. Plant lovers who, in the midst of their busy days, do not make the time to water and feed their charges. Plant lovers who eventually abandon their plants.

Plant lovers? Ha

I am writing on behalf of abused and abandoned ficus trees around the globe. It has been brought to my attention that you are presently the caretaker of one of the millions of ficus trees abandoned every year. And while you think it may be too late for your tree, let me tell you that ficus trees are incredibly resilient. They have been known to suffer through weeks and drought and deprivation and, with the return of loving care, thrive once more.

Mr. X,

We are asking you to take a long, hard look at that ficus tree in your office. Does it not deserve water? Does it not deserve sunlight? Does it not deserve more than the tragic fate of withering and dying?

But do not despair at the enormity of effort. There is help.

International Ficus Rescue Association does provide a number of services for those unable to care for their ficus trees. These range from home care visits where cheerful volunteers provide pruning, and revitalizing food and water as well as care training for the owner to placement services where the tree goes to a carefully selected home.

Please be a real Plant lover and love your ficus! Let us know how we can help!

Cash donations also accepted.

Rosales Moraceae

President
International Ficus Rescue Association

American History as Travel Writing

This weekend while reading Sarah Vowell's The Wordy Shipmates
it occurred to me, American history is, at it's heart travel writing. i.e. I went here, it's like such and such, I did so and so, and met this and that person. (Putting aside that in American history the next step generally was, "I then wiped this and that person and all their relatives off the face of the map.") Take, for example the folks discussed in Vowell's book, John Winthrop - went to Massachusetts, its got a great hill upon which to build a city, there's also lots of natural resources. Roger Williams - went to Massachusetts, met some well intentioned people but they didn't really have the right idea so he sailed somewhere else, saw a bigger bay, met a lot of interesting new people, hung out with them for awhile, then got together with Winthrop and others and wiped them out. Next traveler, Anne Hutchinson. She sails to Winthrop's city, meets some people, and is forced to visit Roger Williams but finds even his company a bit much so head off to New Amsterdam. Nice place - until the natives get a bit upset.

And so it goes throughout American history. Take The Journals of Lewis and Clark. Adventurers? I don't think so. Really they're just travel writers in disguise. If they'd had some help writing it might even have been a best seller.

Even the Civil War was treated as a travel adventure (although mostly for Northerners.)

And so two streams come together. My love of American history and travel writing converge. (And I get to write a corny concluding sentence before running off to work.)

PS The Wordy Shipmates is a very good read. Strangely inclusive of all of American history while focusing on the Puritans. Brought me right back to my college years and while it may be too densely packed with references only a scholar of that period could understand, still it lends a new perspective.

Adventures in Used Car Shopping: And He Shall Be Called Moby

Last night I purchased Angela's replacement. But no, Angela can not be replaced and despite what the insurance company says I know someone will buy her at auction, fix her up and set her back on the road. Moby is her successor.

Moby is a 2004 Pontiac Vibe. I was looking for a small car that was:

• In my price range - no car payments thank you
• Had less than 70,000 miles
• Could fit a bike or two in the back (a hatchback)
• Was in good shape
• Got decent mileage
  

After 2 weeks of searching the web, reading reviews, taking harrowing test drives, fielding calls from salesmen, and making some really low offers - I purchased Moby at Bald Hill auto. Delivery is Saturday.

The name fits - doesn't it?

- G. K. Chesterton

An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered.

And another

When preparing for a trip there is always one type of book I look for. Technically, it's not a travel book but it is a book that's good for travel. This book, or these books, if you're lucky are set in the place you're going. Fiction or non-fiction, really doesn't matter. What does matter is that the setting, and the character of the area people is an important part of the story.

The recent passing of Tony Hillerman reminded me of this. Best known for his works about the American Southwest, more particularly, the Four Corners area, it was Hillerman's works that introduced me to the area and it's people. (Not to mention that his books are all in paperback and are easy to stuff in a backpack.) It's hard to say which book is my favorite, and I can't even pick between Jim Chee and Joe Leaphorn. They're all good and all good reads for traveling to the area.

Apparently, they are such good reads, and so descriptive that there are books for people who want to visit the places described in the book. Tony Hillerman's Navajoland: Hideouts, Haunts, and Havens in the Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee Mysteries is probably one of the best. And I have to confess while driving through the Northwest corner of New Mexico I was drawn to Shiprock - just because it features so prominently in Hillerman's books.

But back to the topic...books for traveling that are not necessarily travel books. Sometimes they can make the trip.

PS. The next big trip will be to western North Carolina/Tennesse - anyone have any recommendations?

Defining the field

The thing about librarians (although I prefer Information Scientist) is that we have an innate drive to organize, categorization and define things. Travel writing is no exception. And so, without further ado here's my first attempt:

Definition: Travel writing is a broad category of writing concerned with various aspects of travel.

Types of travel writing:

• Travel guides - ala Rick Steeves, Lonely Planet, Fodors
• Travel books - think Paul Theroux.
• Travel literature- books about places or trips, generally from an outsiders perspective. The work must have a coherent narrative, or insights and value, beyond a mere logging of dates and events - Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail exemplifies the type. As he walks the Appalachian Trail Bryson talks not just about the trail highlights, but about it's challenges, the people, the meaning of the AT, and America's and his own relationship with wilderness.

The more I think about it, the more I realize it's travel literature that draws me. Books where the place is an important character within the author's journey from ignorance to knowledge. Place, setting, location - go a long way to forming who we are, for some even more than their social setting. Going somewhere else, i.e. traveling, exposes us to other places, other potentials of who we could be, even as it exposes us to who we are based upon where we've lived. I never realized how American I was until I went to Europe, never knew that the dense forests of New England kept my perspective local, until I hiked in the Southwest deserts, never felt Connecticut's reserve until coming to a four way stop in Iowa and waiting for everyone to signal everyone else through. There are some writers who can convey this - and those are the ones I like to read.

Vicarious Adventures - Travel Writing/Reading

In the words of Neil Young, "Comes a time when you're drifting, comes a time when you settle down." And it appears, I'll be in the settled down phase for the next six months. Hard to believe I won't be flying off to Utah, or Arizona, or Colorado, or any of the other warm, sunny, states this winter, but baring some kinda of miracle conference, that's the case. Oh sure I'll get in some weekend hikes. Hey, maybe it'll even snow and there will be skiing, or winter camping, but no Big Adventures are in the future until late spring when I'll be heading down to western North Carolina, and swinging through Tennessee (got to keep adding to the state list, and even a chance to section hike some of the AT!).

The inevitable question arises. What then to write about? Last year during this time there was the ever popular "Adventures in Retail." While I will be working retail this year, at the same store, with many of the same folks, I suspect there will also be mostly the same stories. Aside from the fact that there may be fewer considering the recession, or rather considering that this year people have to admit there is a recession, there's probably won't be many new stories.

And yet there is something, especially about winter, that makes we want to write. Cozy up with a cup of tea (coffee is out for the time being) and typing away. Right now it's raining out and the wind is starting to pick up. Listening to the cars drive by and typing, just feels nice, really nice. (So nice, it really doesn't matter what I write so feel free to stop reading.)

But back to the question. What to write about? Beer also seemed a good topic. Not in the sense of reviewing it, but in it's history. A few years ago I realized that I liked beer. Much more than red wine, which gave me a headache, or white wine, which didn't give me anything, or harder liqour, which gave me more than I could handle, it was really the clear, crispness, or heavy heardiness (depending upon the season, or mood) of beer that I enjoyed most.

A few weeks ago Bethany was processing a manuscript collection and came upon an 1857 receipt for a shipment of IPA and sparked my newest interest - the history of Beer!

But no - research is a private pursuit, and long one too.

And then it hit me. Write about other travel writing. Every time I go on a trip, I try and read about the area before going, and as faithful readers know, book selection for trips is a key part of every adventures success. But it was on the trip to Portland, Oregon in that bookstore of bookstores, Powell's, that I became truly aware of the Travel Writing Genre, its pros and cons, and realized too that some of the best travel books, really aren't. Check out the travel section at Amazon and you'll know what I mean. Or, read on as I'll be trying to figure that out as well.

.5mile You're on the Cape Cod Rail Trail

A few weeks ago, in celebration of Columbus Day, S introduced me to the CCRT. There's a lot written about it on the web so I won't talk too much about the 22 mile, ex-train line, now bike trail that runs from South Dennis to Wellfleet Mass. I will however talk about the people on the trail.

Even on the cool fall day there we're lots of people, of all types. Not many regular road riders (the kinds you hammering out the miles on the side of your average road) but lots of more recreational types, on all types of bikes. Couples, families with kids on tryks, three-wheelers, and even a spider bike. And then there was the boy scout troop. What we thought at first was a pack of 8 dedicated, hard-riding, teeth-gritting male teens was followed by a larger group of 20 silent, somewhat sullen teens. A few minutes later a smaller group of obviously annoyed teens, followed by 3 scout leader types brought up the rear. All in all the group gave off the appearance of either being on a race at which the future on humanity was at stake, or their very existence depended upon surviving this near-death trek rather than that of the Boy Scout troop that they were. On the return trip we passed a very different group of 20 girls, all together with their leaders, all smiling, and SINGING. The Girl Scouts appear to have a much different view of bike riding, the trail and perhaps life? Couldn't help but note that the difference between the Boy and Girl Scout Troops reflects the differences in men and women's approach to life.

Oh and the title - for the first 10 miles or so the words ".5mile" appear at regular intervals. "Funny" I noted to S., "that someone is so intent on having us enjoy the trail that the feel its necessary to write smile on the pavement." S looked at me rather strangely. "You mean .5 miles?" And darn it all thats what it really said. I'd mistaken the .5 for an s. But hey, it was a nice day, so Smile, you're on the Cape Cod Rail Trail.

Mt. Madison, last ascent into the alpine zone, last trail of cairns

James Madison was the fourth president of the United States.. At 5367' Mt. Madison is the fourth highest, and also the northernmost peak in the northern Presidentials. It was also the last peak of the vacation and by the 4th day I recognized the progression to the Presidential ascents.

Leaving the parking lot there is always a bit of relatively flat hiking the length of which varies depending on the trail and the mountain. The longest flat was Eisenhower, the shortest Madison via the Pine Ridge/Howker/Osgood trails. Here the trail immediately begins climbing. Which really isn't so bad on the way up. It's on the way down, when you want a few feet or so to stretch out your legs that you miss the flat.

After ascending for a mile or two, whatever it takes to reach an elevation somewhere around 4000' the trail enters the Alpine Zone. There is always a sign somewhere in the area to warn you that "the area ahead has the worst weather in America many have died there from exposure even in the summer. Turn back now if the weather is bad." (kinda like waving a red flag in front of adventure junkies). Soon after the trail breaks into the open areas of the zone, so it would be hard to miss. The thing about the Alpine Zone that I love is the contrast of the bigness, and harshness of it, with the tiny plants that live there.

Simultaneous with entering the Alpine Zone, or because of it, the trees disappear and trail markings change from blazes to rock cairns. On the trails around Adams and Madison these were particularly interesting. Someone has taken a great deal of care to top them with a large piece of white granite and many of them looked much like stone lighthouses, and they stood out clearly against a sea of gray rock. Pretty, but also potentially lifesaving. In the heavy fog that often sits on these peaks you need all the help you can get to stay on the trail.

Once in the land of cairns the trail switches, basically from a walking trail to a rock hopping exercise. Once again the value of good gear, in this case boots, is a welcome thing. Hopping across rocks, following the cairns to the Big Cairn which marks the summit can be heck on your feet. But as with the others the summit of Madison was worth it. The view was a little hazy but really its not just the view. It's the sense of accomplishment, of being in the clouds, in the sky that just makes it all worthwhile. I especially like looking back down the mountain, picking up the hints of trail we hiked, seeing where we've been, and feeling just great that only a few hours ago I was way over there and that now here, under my own power(and with the help of some awesome hiking poles) I stand.

Mt Adams

Peak fever and Pole adoption continue apace. Today the peak was Mt. Adams (at 5,774 feet the second highest peak in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, and the one with the greatest elevation gain by any of the standard routes.) During the whole hike we only saw one other person. A few off in the distance of what are often the most overcrowded peaks in the world, but we met up with only one hiking the same trail we were on. Seemed kinda strange.

Ascending on the Airline Trail, an impressive 4.3 mile, 1000 to 5600 ft trial leading in a straight line from the Appalachia parking lot to the summit via a stairway cut from stone, a mile-long knife edge ‘walk’, and a .9 mile scramble up a rock pile we arrived at the summit just as the clouds lifted off the peak. As we enjoyed the traditional applebutter and peanut butter sandwich the clouds also lifted, east to west off Mt. Madison, Jefferson and Washington. The sun really didn’t shine but it was nice this time to see the view. Reading over other posts of Mt. Adams ascents it appears we were lucky. This peak is often in the clouds for days.

Leaving Adams to the east via the Lowe Trail with a much shorter .3 mile rock scramble we arrived at the AT, aka the Gulfside Trail. Here as with all the other trails on this hike it was maintained by the Randolph Mountain Club. Someone has arranged massive granite boulders into a level walking path. The work done by the RMC all over the mountain is amazing, making for easily walkable, well marked trails in an often hostile environment.

From Gulfside we descended to the AMC Madison Hut. It was closed now but looks like a good base for future area hikes. Speaking of which, while the plan had been to climb the .5 mile to Mt. Madison, it was now 2:00 and really not a good idea.

We descended the mountains via the Valley Way. A bit slippery for the first mile of the descent it was a relatively nice hike. Toward the last mile the trail followed along a beautiful stream with falls and pools that looked especially inviting - come some warm summer day.

During the hike (down - on the way up, between trying to catch my breath, and stop myself from getting vertigo) I developed and perfected the hiking pole draw. The art of pulling the poles from the pack without breaking stride. It’s really very easy. By inserting them individually, one on the left side of the Gregory ISO pack, one on the right, thru the compression straps and into the water bottle pockets – handles up – you can draw them in a second. Also developed two new uses for the poles, fencing sword, and javelin. S. introduced one as well – drying rack.

And on the third day

Today we rested. Well kinda. To be honest, even with the wonderful poles I was a bit sore. The legs just weren't holding up to the sudden jolt from spending 8 hours at a desk to hiking 8 hours on the trail. In my work at ACO I often wonder at the folks who come in and announce they're going to climb some huge mountain the next day, with no preparation whatsoever. And now I know why they do it, and I know how they feel. Exhilarated and perhaps more than a bit sore.

But it was a beautiful day, and while none of us liked shopping, it seemed that a trip to North Conway and Eastern Mountain Sports, than driving North around Mt. Washington would be a good way to recuperate.

Ah, EMS. Way back when, when I was just a little girl. Mad as heck that my parents dragged me up and down mountains (preferring to explore them at my own pace) we used to stop in at EMS. For those of you who missed the original North Conway store, it was located in a huge Colonial Revival building. The biggest structure in town at the time, and the most imposing. I'll always remember how walking in, no matter how often, I'd be expecting some grand, almost museum-like atmosphere. I'd have to stop and take a minute every time just to adjust to all the gear, and the smell. (Gear has a very distinctive smell - not describable - but once you smell it, you know it).

But we only stopped briefly at the old edifice. EMS has moved and I don't want to see what's in the old one now. Probably some foo foo shops of some kind. The kind that smell like new mall stuff. Eww.

The new EMS is down the road to the South. A nice enough building. A big enough space. And no matter where you find it, techwick is always the best. That and shot blocks. I love shot blocks.

After that we headed North on RT 16, then West on Rt 2 and back to the little cabin. Not so sore anymore...and ready to climb another day! Only one question remained. Which mountain(s)?

Mt. Pierce and Jackson and I've got Peak Fever

It’s Day Two of the Presidential New Hampshire vacation. The sun is shining and we’ve selected a slightly less ambitious hike. Still two peaks but instead of 5300, and 5600 fters we’re gearing down to 4100 and 4500 ft. The idea being to take it a little easier today but still bag a few peaks and enjoy some fantastic scenery.

Parking at the Crawford Notch parking lot we started up on the Crawford Path. The sign at the trail head informed us that this was the oldest, most continuously hiked trail in the United States. Initially established as an easier means for Victorian tourists to summit Mt. Washington it was at one point expanded to a horse trail (making it even easier), until replace by the Cog Railroad, which was replaced, or put into competition with the road. (Can it get any easier to get to one of the harshest places on the East Coast? And why do so many people want to go there?)

But back to the Crawford Path. It is a nice 3.3 mile trail up to the summit of Mt. Pierce with a steady incline and no technical sections, but still an incline that was made more enjoyable with the use of hiking poles.

…and the view from the summit of Mt. Pierce is stunning. We arrived around 11:00, just as the higher clouds had lifted off Mt. Eisenhower to the North. The air was so clear we could almost see the cairn on the top clearer than we could yesterday when we were standing right next to it. As we stood and watched the clouds lifted off the top of the next mountain. We debated which mountain was Monroe, which Washington, which was Jefferson. With the final lift however, it became clear. Mount Washington stood tallest and we could figure the rest out from there. And it was then and there that I really decided...well, why not climb them all? See what the world looks like from each and everyone of them. Join the community that knows that, that shares a common language of peaks, of New England weather knowledge, an intimacy with the many trails that leads to each and every one of them. Be here in this part of New England, playing, peak after peak.

The view was so nice, so well deserved, especially after yesterday's fog fest that we decided to have lunch there on the rocks where we could take it all in. Two other hikers were there, a rabbit, a weasel (I believe one had lunch on its mind also) and two Gray Jays that were definitely in feeding mode. We enjoyed our peanut butter and apple butter sandwiches, and they enjoyed our raisins and peanuts. Right out of S’s hand. They’d sit in the firs right next to us and wait until he held out his hand with some goodies, then they’d take turns flying in and snacking. They weren’t in any hurry and would just sit in his hand and fill up taking as much as 5 good sized peanuts in the beaks (pouches?) before flying off. When we decided they’d had enough the continued to eye us but smart enough to not be fooled by and empty hand.

After lunch we headed east on the Webster-Jackson Trail realizing that in our calculations for today’s hike we (or maybe it was just me) hadn’t figured in the fact that’d we’d need to descend, then ascend between the two peaks. But it wasn’t that bad. The AMC's Mitzph hut, a trailside grouse that wasn’t phased by our passing, and a nice mountain bog added to the hike. Once on the summit of Mt. Jackson (named not for President Jackson, but rather for Charles Jackson a 19th century New Hampshire state geologist) we had another nice stop and some more amazing views of the Presidentials. I attempted to shoot a 360 degree panorama. We’ll see how it comes out.

On the summit we crossed paths with what could possibly be the last of the thru hikers. Four young guys on their way to Katadin, in a bit of a hurry).

The trail down, the Webster Jackson connector, was a bit steep, but have I mentioned that I have hiking poles?

Mt. Eisenhower, and Mt. Monroe - I Join the Hiking Pole People

For many years I’ve literally cursed the clickitty clackitty of hiking poles and those people who use them. The number of times I’ve been out enjoying the pristine quiet of the woods, or the desert only to be disturbed by the clicking of hiking poles striking against rock. And for what? I questioned. Really how much can two sticks really add to the hiker’s abilities?

Today I got some learning and some converting. It all began back there on Mount Hancock a few months ago. It was only fitting that the end would be the next 4000fters – Mt. Eisenhower, and Mt. Monroe. We left the trailhead at 8:00, and began the gentle climb up the first 1000 ft. When the climb got a little more serious I decided, “what the heck, I’m carrying the darn poles, why not use them?”

“But wait” you ask, “where did you, curser of hiking poles get hiking poles? And not just any poles – Contour Elliptic Shock Trekking Poles by Black Diamond”

“Ah” I reply. “Good question. Back when I was climbing – or rather descending – Mt. Hancock. S. lent me his – just in time to save my knees. And so it came to pass that for my birthday S. bought me a pair, and not just any pair but Black Diamond Contour Elliptical Shock poles.

But back to Mt. Eisenhower which we climbed expecting the fog to lift after we cleared the tree line. It didn’t. At the peak, marked by a very nice, very large cairn, it still hadn’t. Walking the Crawford Trail north along the ridge to Mt. Monroe was nice, the trail nice. We assumed the view would have been fantastic – but honestly there were times when it was hard to see the next cairn. Still, it was our first 4000 fters since July.

And the question is raised – can you count a peak if you can’t see it, or anything from it?
(We’ll leave that for you – our valued reader and perhaps peak bagger, or another day – to decide)