trek for peace

2/1/2012 Epic frolic!

2012-02-02T16:05:00.001-05:00

Once again, Scout and I had no idea what the footing would be like on the Scoutland Trails. In our respective screw shoes and Micropsikes, we set out at the standard Insomniac Running Society time of 9pm in a light fog and a 32 degree temp.

I won't write too much (maybe) because you really had to be there. The mist lifted for while and a half moon and stars and clouds were beautiful. A mysterious orange glow toward the east (Lewiston? Aliens?) prompted some wonder and ethical concern (if it's smog, can I still think it's pretty?)...but it was really unique. And pretty.

The footing was not bad, but for much of the way it was rather uneven. Footfalls landed at all angles so knees and ankles felt it a bit. There were several minor Scout vs. ice moments but once again, the Microspikes held me in complete immunity to any hint of slippage.

Winter trail running may not work all the time, and it isn't easy, but the point that I am learning this season is that is is totally do-able.

I began to noticeably struggle partway through the adventure, feeling a combination exhaustion from not sleeping enough recently and also the residue of the sweet hill insanity from earlier in the week. The exhaustion thing was tricky, but the post-hill-legs were a great feeling. The time seemed to go by pretty quickly but sometime after about two hours, we both agreed that we should have brought some water!

Topics of the day included garden gnome stories, alien abductions, Trail Monster retro-gossip ("did you read so-and-so's report about such-and-such hundred miler???"), and my personal favorite, fancy llama drive-bys. Awesomesauce.

~time - check back
~10.38 miles
~33 degrees, cloudy then clear then foggy
~MicroSpikes, Brooks Cascadia 6, SmartWool socks, pants, polypro shirt, longsleeve shirt, goretex shell, thin knit hat, light gloves (carried). Thought I might be overdressed but was fine.

1/31/2012 Drip.

2012-02-02T14:02:00.000-05:00

....cross training...

1/30/2012 Ultra what?

2012-01-30T21:18:00.001-05:00

Here - Listen to some Joe Henry while you read! He is so underknown and such a fabulous songwriter/storyteller. I wish more people knew who he was.

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After yesterday's slip-and-crunch-fest through nearby icy-snow, I didn't know what the trail conditions on Mt Pisgah today would be like. I was a little nervous that the whole hill would be coated in ice but headed over to rule it out. After a short 1.5mile warm up on the road, Luette arrived, ready to conquer. We didn't have a ton of time so we decided to just do as many repeats as we could fit in.

The most I'd ever done, for the record, is three. (No reason.) Mt Pisgah (this one) is between Monmouth and Winthrop, Maine, and is a little over 800' tall. The trailhead is at 400-something so it's not a ton of vertical, but it's one of the only good mountain-ish-hiking-trail sorts of things that is nearby. There are two routes to the summit, one dirt road and one trail, and it has a fire tower in halfway decent shape.

I first hiked on Mt Pisgah with my family as a little kid. I first started running there 6 or 7 years ago when my friend, Rosalea, was training for the Mt Washington Road Race. She did almost all her hill training on Mt Pisgah, so I figured if it was good enough for her, it was totally good enough for me. The first time we ran there together, she did five repeats in the time it took me to do three. Scary rugged!

Luette and I alternated routes and found surprisingly good footing almost the whole way. The trail had some slick spots and the invisible/snow covered bog bridges were a bit of a pain, but we were able to run almost everything. The wind was audible but never really blasted us except when we were in the tower - which was fine because I'd neglected to bring one of my trusty windproof layers. Any the sun was lovely. Dare I say - restorative!

The Whites of NH were a bit clouded over but otherwise the views from the tower far exceeded satisfactory. To my delight -- I'd been hankering hard for a while now -- L said it was time for us to take a field trip to the Whites. For some reason, my Whites trips have been strangely far-between lately; time to change that.

We ended up with three ascents, including three tower climbs, plus plenty of push ups upon completion of each summit. Not only did Luette practically coast up the steepest parts of the climb, but she also basically threw me in the proverbial shopping cart and pushed me up as well. Anyone who will drive over an hour to repeatedly run up and down hills with me, and then cheerfully do push ups, in the snow...? I mean seriously. That's just damn awesome.

Discussion topics for the day included: blogging, not blogging, anti-blogging, socially-acceptable stalking via blogs, blog reading, blogging vs narcissism, snowshoe racing or not, why the only logical thing to do is register for an ultra, how motivation works, fake motivation, bribery, the "I will if you do" philosophy, and how to pronounce "gym" with a little help from inspirational figures (Homer Simpson).

~113 minutes
~7.09 miles (1.5 on road, rest was 3x Mt Pisgah)
~Sunny, around 30 degrees, gentle breeze. Footing - snow of various packed-nesses. "Only one hill!"
~Brooks Cascadia 6, Smartwool socks, pants, polypro shirt, fleece grid shirt, fleece gloves, knit hat

1/29/2012 Shield your eyes...

2012-01-29T22:26:00.000-05:00

I have loved reading and hearing about everyone else's recent kickass runs. My own recent humble jogs have not been worth detailing. Trust me.

The place between devout frustration and "who gives a fuck?" and "this is not the end of the world/you'll do better soon enough" is shifty, insincere, and frankly rather boring.

It leaves me wondering if I have ever in my life made any progress in anything at all; just one or two lousy runs (or non-strategic days off) can begin to unravel any sense of validation. The availability of reason becomes unreliable. And I end up having no idea what's going on. How can I be a runner if I suddenly do not meet the (ever-evolving) criteria by which I (apparently) define a 'runner'?

We all know how it is, how difficult it is on one hand, and how it simultaneously is completely okay. Whether these experiences own or define me is irrelevant; just to experience them, as the purely quotidian concerns they are, is what's important.

And what's more important? To regard them with patience; and to act with regard. To do what you love.

1/25/2012 Insomniac Running Society conquers Scoutland, version 2.0

2012-01-26T13:25:00.002-05:00

Even if it was going to mean I'd have to take day(s) off afterwards, there was no WAY I was going to not run tonight. MFA (Mysterious Foot Ailment) still existed but the constant cracking and creaking in the ankle joints had stopped. This implied a degree of stability that I was somewhat okay with, but I was a bit nervous as I pulled up to the Scoutland trailhead at 9pm.

We had no idea what the footing was going to be like, but Scout mentioned it had been below freezing for three full hours! And the temp was dropping, which was a good thing, because we had plenty of ice gear (Ice Spikes for her, Microspikes for me) but had neglected to bring the SCUBA gear.

We headed out into the probably-beautiful (I have yet to see them in daylight) fields of Scoutland, and the footing turned out to be totally runnable. There were swaths of ice interspersed with snow in varied degrees of decay, and patches of lumpy dead grass/bare ground as well. Sounds intense to write, but was nothing insurmountable.

Scout wanted to scout out a trail that pointed suspiciously toward the Cathance River area. I merrily followed along over rolling dale and hill, and the occasional electron bridge. Electron because you know what you are crossing is in fact a bridge, but one look and you can see it is generally void of structure. The bridges also tended to move and squeak a lot in relation to their physical observance. Not sure if they possessed an intrinsic angular momentum but was not keen to find out.

The temperature was very comfortable, around 30 degrees F, and the time flew by. We saw raccoon, coyote, turkey (dinosaur?), deer, and even rabbit tracks. Except for our voices and footsteps, it was quite silent out there.

The best and Most Salient Topic of the night, hands down, involved Scout's childhood interactions with a rather evil raccoon.

I kept wanting to exclaim things like, "foot = amazing!" and "HALLELUJAH! I am run!" but was afraid to jinx it somehow. The level of NQR-ness was consistent throughout, which I took as a great sign. Meanwhile, I picked Scout's brain about all things running. And what a great resource she is! I feel so fortunate. She offered to send me a training plan that she got from Emma (for a 50k or 50 miler, was it?) which was tempting to accept...but, especially as I look at the amount of variables that have hindered the last 6 months (or 9 years?), of my running, it just seems totally out of my league right now.

Actually it also sounds totally interesting, inspiring, and worth checking out, regardless of the bullshit league excuse. But I am not sure if I am ready to commit to someone else's plan due to my inexplicable and yet very real fear of doing anything as it has been done before.

I might or might not write more about my current conditioning schedule-ish thing (yes, it's true! I have one) on here sometime - maybe tomorrow during sleet/junk/storm/weather madness. Today, however, looks wondrous. I am going outside to play before a Cinder Conk rehearsal with a great new violin player tonight.

~113 minutes
~8.38 miles
~around 30 degrees, a bit hazy, night, footing was packed snow/rotten ice/patches of grass
~Brooks Cascadia 6, Smartwool sock, pants, polypro shirt, fleece grid shirt, gore-tex shell, light Ariat gloves, light cotton hat, Amphiod

1/24/2012 This foot is made out of the wrong parts...

2012-01-24T22:57:00.001-05:00

Variables, left foot, whaaat?? (said in whiney voice) feh, grrr, bullshit, etc. Makes no sense. Oh well. If I can't run, I can still cross train! And I should, I think, be good to run tomorrow. I hope. I'd better be, because I am journeying to Scoutland and I refuse to miss the opportunity to run at night with good company.

I did manage a short showshoe thing today, no gps, just about 30min worth. Checked out the trails near the barn - awesome silent overcast forest. Slop and slush. Yes. Then crushed it (probably not really, I just wanted to say crushed it) with some other non-running-yet-running-related activities. (Crushed what?)

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Although it's morphed a great deal since its incarnation, Trek For Peace has been around since 2007. As you can see if you dig the archives, most of the old entries are about hiking. Anyway, it has yet to have its own logo, in spite of it being "on the list" for years. But when X-City Running needed a temporary fix, I couldn't help but bust out a sharpie. X-City is a new organization founded by Trail Monster David and it's totally worth checking out. They run in Portland and ANYONE is welcome. Please forgive the technical shortcomings of said logo, my disclaimer will have to be something about it taking 15 minutes and/or no longer having any useful software with which to manipulate it. I'd have liked to fix a few things if I'd been able, but the current end result is usable and I enjoyed making it.

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Bond Brook trails are apparently a mess and they are asking people to stay off them until we get more snow. Just as well - I have some other stuff to work on...!

"What are you doing here? I thought you were dead."

2012-01-24T12:22:00.002-05:00

Just came across this Nat Baldwin video. He is playing at the end of Feb at Space in Portland ME with Milkman's Union and THE TOUGHCATS.

This is one of the most badass videos I have ever seen. The ending is perfect.

Nat Baldwin - "Weights" from Willy Berliner on Vimeo.

"I sold all your stuff!"
"It's cool."
Love.

1/22/2012 Bradbury Squall, parkour, lastness, fire, gear, etc.

2012-01-22T19:52:00.002-05:00

Somehow, winter finally got itself together and Squall Race day was picture-perfect.

There were so many Trail Monsters around, volunteering and racing with equal gusto, that I unfortunately barely exchanged hellos with most of them. Let's hear it for fast-paced vaguely social funlike situations! Luet--- I mean, Nebuchadnezzar showed up about 30 seconds after I did and we immediately began discussing hypothermia and trying to figure out what to wear (like omg, what to wear, omg). The only sure thing gear-wise was that we were both going to be borrowing some chic Dion snowshoes, so went in search of the legendary Ryan Triffitt to meet our new friends. (Legendary in my world, anyway - have you read his amazing 50 miler report yet?)

Ryan held up two flavors of snowshoes and we stared blankly as he explained the difference and asked us which we would like. Fortunately, Ryan is more decisive than we are and hooked us up with with the slightly larger/heavier/supposedly more stable of the two options, rather than the racing flats one.

Getting them on was tricky because the straps were stiff, but I assumed this meant they would stay firmly in place. They were longer and narrower than the snowshoes I've been using. Foot kayaks.

In fact, getting the damn things on took so long that I didn't have time to put on gaiters, which I like mostly for the added warmth. I abandoned them near the start/finish area and forgot to grab them post race, but fortunately they ended up with Jamie, so I shall see them again someday!

Being completely inexperienced in the world of snowshoe running, Luette and I placed ourselves all the way at the back of the initial herd...and stayed there for the whole race. The course was perfect - beautifully packed, full of snow-covered tree branches for Luette to destroy (she gets a little violent, no big deal), and illuminated here and there by rays of low golden wintry sun.

The only issue was that my shins SCREAMED for almost the whole first half of the race. The extra length on the unfamiliar snowshoes meant I had to pick my toes up, way more up than I normally would. Also possible - that, plus the coldness may have affected them too. Who knows.

The level of discomfort was such and I actually wondered if this-all was a good idea. Luette is brilliant at distracting me though (what were we discussing? Mastiff poop, was it? Or the pronunciation of "duodenum"?) and thanks to her, I slowly and rather pathetically managed to keep going forward. Curse you, fancy schmancy snowshoes...

And by the time we were onto the Tote Road, the shins began to feel a little bit better - less scream and more holler. Any they were cranky but tolerable when we got onto the Boundary Trail. Annoying to have this kind of stuff come up but whatever. I was still having a blast listening to Luette's stories about, ie, nude mountain climbing, and enjoying the hell out of the race.

...Not to imply we were really "racing" -- unless you count things like parkour photo ops as part of racing. (I might.) I'd slowed us down so much that we were certainly not going to be anything but very, very last, probably even without the camera pauses. We discussed how we would handle our finish, and if we should aim a little higher: Maybe we should try to be last in all three snowshoe races. Someone's got to do it.

Anyway, after almost but not quite discussing the devastation that is collard greens, and each getting jumped on by a springy/out-of-control (but harmless) dog, we decided to try to TIE for last place. Rounding the last corner was David, who was volunteering, patiently cheering us onward (or maybe wondering where on earth we'd been!) and then we heard the cowbell and saw the flock of folks waiting (and waiting) for us to finish. I didn't even see her because Luette and I were still laughing about who knows what, but apparently Scout was there too with her volunteer paws on the stopwatch. And a bunch of other badass volunteers were there as well - very very cool Monstery spirit in tha house.

We struggled out of our foot kayaks/flippers/whatever they were called and headed toward the fire. As always, the crew of Monsters had everything running smoothly and winners/awards were announced and wrapped up shortly. And the fire was oh so blissful.

And if anyone was distraught/verklempt/bewildered/disapproving that this slow creature is slowifying the vibe of the Monster world, they were too polite to say so. But I never got that vibe. As far as I can tell - it's so not about that.

~71 minutes
~3.65 miles snowshoe run
~low 20s, sunny, perfectly packed snowy trails on Bradbury's west side
~Dion snowshoes, Brooks Cascadia 6, Smartwool socks, pants, polypro shirt, fleece shirt, fleece windbloc vest, Ariat gloves, the skullcap.

....and then, I felt like I needed just a bit more, so I went back out...
~31 minutes
~1.5 miles
~same everything but Winter Walker snowshoes (which felt great) and add a shell jacket. Sweet!

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Also - now that you've read the loser's point of view, be sure to check out the great report from one of the winners, Danielle. She is a beast!

1/21/2012 Sustainable levels of having no idea what is going on.

2012-01-22T18:29:00.001-05:00

Healthy-looking snowflakes drifted through all day on Saturday. Lithe yet robust. I wandered a bit, still feeling like I wanted to do something, but also like my miles-per-week seem to have gotten substantially higher a little bit faster than intended. Nothing exciting. I just want to keep increases at a sustainable level.

Not that I necessarily know what that means.

However.

I am getting curious about finding out.

Anyway: Cross training day.

1/20/2012 Pre-Squall Foray

2012-01-21T01:15:00.000-05:00

Waking up under almost a foot of snow in January in Maine is good, but having the roads be clear and safe before I have to venture out is WICKED good.

I didn't get to Bradbury until after 2pm. Trail Monster Nathan was in the parking lot, just in from a snowshoe run, and he pointed out Ryan's car and said the words I'd been hoping to hear -- that Ryan was out breaking trail on the Squall course. I was interested in doing the course, but knew I'd never be able to follow the middle section (Krista's Loop) unless it was broken out. Perfect.

Two thoughts as of late:

1) What place does a 3.5 mile run have in my conditioning? Almost none (unless I am doing a speed/technique workout). Short distances just seem not to be my thing.

2) Snowshoe running is harder than normal running. Ignore the distance. It will take plenty of time to snowshoe 3.5 miles.

Focusing on option 2, still unsure of just how long this was going to take, I embarked on the snow-laden Squall course. Sunlight streamed everywhere through the snowy tree branches. I went as slowly as possible while still running; I wanted to keep it super easy while still getting the groove of the feel of snowshoes.

I didn't see another person for the next hour and a half, which is what it took to go 3.75 miles, which is roughly what my GPS said of the course length. My mind was persistently occupied, but not wild, almost the whole time. Only toward the very end did I become curious about the outside world and increasingly interested in wrapping things up. Not bored - but at risk.

The wind wasn't too bad thanks to the tree cover. I wasn't moving quickly enough to stay very warm. I couldn't get enough of the late light and the huge whiteness of snow. The camera died after only a handful of pics; I think if it'd lived longer I'd have been content with a few more pic-taking stops. Variety.

I used the snowshoes from the attic again, and had no interference issues! Comfy running. I am looking forward to trying some Dions on Sunday though.

~94 minutes of snowshoe running
~3.75 miles
Bradbury Squall course - trail was broken
Around 23 degrees, some wind
Beans Winter Walker snowshoes, Smartwool socks, Brooks Cascadia 6, gaiters, pants, fleece base layer, long sleeve midlayer, windbloc vest, light hat, gloves, Amphipod

1/19/2012

2012-01-19T23:03:00.001-05:00

Strange:

1) The bones of my left foot tried to secede from the union. Not sure what happened but it felt sort of disconnected and weird. Decided to cross train instead of run for that and another reason...

2) For the first time ever, I realized I was concerned that my weekly mileage was getting too HIGH. I've never been interested in "achieving" high weekly mileage. I've always been under the impression that it would adversely affect the sustainability of my pursuit (which is, basically, to just keep running until I'm dead).

3) .....but if I can do it carefully, and conscientiously, then why not? It's not like running 30-something miles per week is that high, really. Especially if your long run is going to be half that or more. Hmmmmm. Adjustment time?

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I just heard about Wild Things Company through Climberism, my favorite New England Climbing zine. Wild Things makes all their clothing (technical base and mid layers, mostly) in the USA, and makes efforts to keep their jobs in New England! How cool is that? Low carbon footprint clothing = hell yes. If you can support them, please do.

1/18/2012 "If on a winter's night a traveler..."

2012-01-19T01:56:00.002-05:00

Everything either heeled madly or jibed like a mofo for much of the day, but the swells were swell, the visibility was effortless, and the experience was all rather fantastic. Even the "sweet baby jeebus, what AM I Doing with my 'life'?" moments were seldom and ignorable. I was hoping for an excuse to use the term "flank speed" and I can't quite do it, but still. Alles gut.

At the last minute ish, my Bond Brook running buddy du jour had to cancel, and at the same moment, I heard that Scout (who is one of my local ultrarunning heroes) was doing a 9pm run! Before considering that I had no idea what I may be getting myself into, but totally going with the gut, I asked her if she might be okay with a bit of company (for whatever part of the run I could keep up with). Her reply, which is now one of my favorite running quotes of all time, was "pace schmace." We were on.

I went to Bond Brook to see if by chance, any other folks had decided to come out, but it was a ghost town. The driveway was entirely sheer ice. Ick. I didn't go check out the trails but felt like I wasn't missing out on too much. I had other stuff on the mind now anyway.

And, I was psyched to have the time to go to the fitness center and try to talk (wrestle) a couple of uncooperative shoulders into compliance. Purpose: Prepare for killer yoga class this evening! Grunt grunt. Oink. Grunt.

Later on, I tried to screw my shoes. Filthy, I know. Anyway, I failed -- couldn't get the damn screws in at all because, in spite of my impressive ability to grunt, I am actually a pathetic weakling. I wondered what sort of consequences this failure would have as I headed south (not like that) to said amazing yoga class.

The wind was crazy brutal as I walked the 20 feet from yoga to car. Hmm. I had forgotten gaiters and had only brought a not-warm hat. And I didn't bring windproof pants. And the gusts were hella intense -- Proof in (one of my favorites) Jamie's blog! I never considered not running, but I did wonder exactly how miserable it was going to be in the open ~~seas~~ fields of Scoutland.

And then, at 8:59pm, the crazy gale went mysteriously silent. Gone. Amazing.

I decided to give the microspikes a try since we'd probably be encountering ice. The last time I really ran with these was at the Hidden Valley Trail Race, and that didn't work so well -- though the footing had been chaotic-evil so maybe the spikes were not to blame. Tonight we set sail on mostly flattish snowmobile trails that were really very comfy to run on, and the microspikes worked beautifully. Success!

Scout and I had really only met briefly a couple of times before; I enjoyed getting to know her a bit more as we trotted through the night, headlamps illuminating little circles of crunchy whiteness. The stars put on a spectacular show and I was tempted to just stop, gaze, and summon the last inklings from that weird UMA astronomy class from many years ago. Other than that, the landscape was largely a mystery, and I followed along without the slightest clue as to which direction was which.

Disorientation, says Salman Rushdie, repeatedly, is a loss of the east. Indeed I'd lost the east, and all the other directions too except sky and forward. Being sort of no where, with good company, makes for an almost idealistic state of relaxation.

My eyelashes, unhatted strands of hair, and entire face were all covered in icy frosty crystals by the end of the excursion. Sadly, much of it melted by the time I could get a picture, so these lack the dramatic Narnian allure that I'd hoped to share with you.

Also, I snowed! When I took off my shell, my midlayer of fleece had bits snow all over it. I accidentally created weather! One step closer to me Goal of controlling the seasons!

Though I was very comfy during the run, maybe even a little too warm(?!), I was shivering pretty badly by the time I got home. Should probably avoid that next time. Also my knees and arches (esp left) were kind of achey. Not a big deal but I am curious as to which variable would have caused that. Shin was fine! \o/

~90 minutes
~6.79 miles
Packed snowmobile trails, night, clear, about 15 degrees F
Microspikes, Brooks Cascadia 6, smartwool socks, pants, polypro LS shirt, fleece grid shirt, windbloc fleece vest, shell, light hat, midweight gloves, headlamp

1/17/2012 Able to extract no color; limited shape.

2012-01-17T19:27:00.002-05:00

Here is a Rorschach tree: the extent of today's photographic intrigue.

What do you see?

Experts may describe it as a day off, but why would I trust an expert who has nothing better to do than sit around wallowing in descriptions?

Myriad grays provided thematic consistency as I snowshoed around the Maranacook trails. I meandered to Tingly Brook and back, detouring enough to create about 3.5 miles of travel. It took a while since I ambled, lurched, shuffled, shambled, halted, bolted, lumbered, ran, and moseyed, in no particular order, with varying degrees of success. Sometimes I broke trail, sometimes it broke me.

Actually it didn't break me, but I am sure it could have if it had wanted to. In fact, due to my insistence that we continue to honor underachievers everywhere, it was a very chilled out endeavor.

Having destroyed my own snowshoes after one season (dang it!), I used some LL Bean Winter Walkers scavenged from a nearby attic. They are a little small for me (I think?) and I didn't even know if running in them would be possible. It certainly was; they were pretty heavy but they worked well enough. No shin/ankle interference or anything.

Also, because I remembered my camera, there was almost NO color today. Next I shall work on controlling the duration of the seasons, and perhaps the wind speed. There was, however, lots of sweet wondering and alone-ness.

Stark, scant, bleak, bland, blight; salient sweet highlight: shin was great.

~85 minutes of walking/running/stopping/etc on snowshoes
~3.52 miles
Gray skies, low 30s, much warmer than it's been
Fleece base layer, long sleeved shirt, windbloc vest, pants, gaiters, Brooks Cascadia 6, Smartwool socks, stoner hat, gloves (which I carried). Slightly too warm but wasn't too bad because I kept stopping - so it worked out.

1/16/2012 In which we underachieve as thoroughly as possible.

2012-01-16T22:03:00.001-05:00

Late night scrabble/cocoa/chia seeds with roommate, some sleep, not enough sleep, darkness, hemp, blueberries, dawn, layers, barn #1, ponies, sunny/snowy herd antics, fewer layers, barn #2, more layers, Shen!, ginger snaps/hay, home, workity work on whatever it is that I do, etc...

It was after 3pm when I finally began to run away. I only wore two fleece long-sleeved layers! And was quite comfy. It was probably around 20 degrees. Creaky body all day today.

I ambled down the yellow blaze and experienced some, uh, PTSD, since that was where my shin situation fell apart last time. The trail had been broken by now though - my footprints plus a handful of others made for slow but easier running. I hit the road and went up the Maranacook driveway, partially on some adjacent nice/well packed snowmo trails, and then broke my own trail for a little bit to get back up to Suicide Hill. Skirted a few neatly groomed XC ski trails too. (Note to self: go skiing.)

The sun was sinking and I headed straight for it, in love with the huge sky and the muted colors. Muted skyward musings. The ski trails turned away (or did I?) and I completed the ascent with too much crashing and crunching through the iced-overness. A Wry Climate song was winding through my skull along with lots of questions; nothing remotely meditative was occurring, but I was thankful for the time and space to experience time and space, as such.

The trail breaking hadn't lasted long but it was tiring, and when I noticed a strand of my old tracks from the ill-fated recent run-turned-hobble, I eagerly headed for them, and somehow something somewhere was validated. Today's shin forecast was sketchy and constant but it never got bad enough that I felt the need to stop. Meh. I did, however, have to go tend to the equids again, so I finished up after 46 minutes and 3 tiny little miles.

...Except there was just one problem: I was not okay with that being my run for the day. For years, I have been the eternal beginner or perhaps under-achiever or perhaps something else, better left undefined. Actually, I'd change it immediately if it was ever defined, so it doesn't matter. But I digress.

Theory: If you're going to underachieve, you should do it wholeheartedly. Don't hold back!

Post horse chores, my headlamp and I went to the Maranacook driveway. I ran up and down its gentle slope for a while, but I wouldn't call these hill repeats since I didn't exert enough effort for this to be a "workout". It was, however, a fairly focused evening of running on nicely packed snowmo trails. There were street lights and no traffic, and the temps were still probably 20s. There was a faint blueish glow in the east. Other than shin/etc annoyance, it was a comfy and relaxing run, and somehow after three more wildly slow miles, I was...hm....Ready. Alert. Peaceful.

~46 minutes
~3.08 miles
Overcast, low 20s, slight breeze.
Maran trails, yellow blaze to driveway to Suicide. Rolling hills.
Fleece base layer, fleece grid mid layer, fleece hat, light Ariat gloves, fleecey base layer tights, windpants, Smartwool socks and Brooks Cascadia 6.

And...

~41 minutes
~3 miles
Maran driveway repeatedly - on packed snowmobile trails - very nice footing esp since it was night.
Same gear as above, plus a hoody.

1/15/2012 Hobbitland

2012-01-15T20:22:00.001-05:00

I don't need or want much "stuff" and am repelled by thoughts of shopping for more of it. However, I have a tendency to be outside in all kinds of weather. And that means that my room generally looks like an eruption of the L.L. Bean volcano.

And I am pretty okay with this, because having the right gear keeps me comfy, so I can stay out longer. Simple.

The shin has been weird all week. I decided that running on the insanity of the Bond Brook trails on who knows what kind of snow/terrain situation was probably not a great idea, even though today was scheduled as a Wed/Sun 2pm Bond Brook Thing.

TorTILLah said he was planning on coming along, so when he revealed that he had never been to Hobbitland, the decision to go play there seemed obvious. Hobbitland is sort of like one big gradual hill, and it's adjacent to the streets of Hallowell, the Kennebec River Rail Trail, and the Hall-Dale Track, etc, so the options are endless. Not knowing what, if anything, the shin would prefer, I figured this might work.

I'd hoped Tortillah would not wear shorts this time since it was about 14 degrees F and breezy. (Not sure what the windchill was but maybe around -10 where we were. Not bad really. But still.) And he didn't! BUT he totally did wear Vibram FiveFingers, which seemed potentially not fun to me. But they're his feet, so off we went. I was wearing tons of clothing, 4 layers on top, 2 layers of pants, 2 hats. I lumbered along not sure what to expect, but imagined that if anything, I was wearing too much.

The snow was somewhat packed in Hobbitland and the running was slow but fine. We paused to check out the cool hobbit bridges and waterfall. The first hill is about 3/4 of a mile long and gradual and I did indeed start sweating by the top of it. We completed the loop and then decided to run on the roads for a little bit. I wanted to see if the shin would react. It didn't. Weird.

We went through downtown and attempted to check out the Rail Trail but it was pretty icy, so we headed back toward Hobbitland for another loop in the other direction. I kept bugging Tillah, asking if his toes were cold and he kept saying he was fine. I tried to scare him with visions of amputated toes, to which he calmly responded with something like, "At least it'd just be my toes, not my balls." Yes: he has all the qualities necessary for a suitable running buddy.

I ended up carrying my (overkill huge GoreTex) gloves much of the way, and in our last loop I even took off one hat. My eyebrows had frozen from the sweat. I unzipped a few layers partway to ventilate a few times but most of those got re-zipped pretty fast. Overall I did end up being pretty comfy, nothing got too cold or too hot.

It definitely helped to have company; I was feeling not-so-hardcore toward the end, but fortunately was too involved in conversation (lots of Important UltraTopics as usual!), and the beautiful alpenglow on the treetops, to care. It was a lovely run.

Another thing that helps in some inexplicable way is just knowing that other people, potentially sort of vaguely like-minded people, maybe, are out there too. They are doing the same things, enduring similar challenges/variables, and kicking bountiful bunches of ass. (And many of them are excellent writers too -- check out the links on the right.) Community from afar is still community. You could have all the best gear in the world but would it be remotely enriching/interesting/amusing/inviting without a bitchin' community in which to act on it?

Speaking of which, sort of: Tortillah wants to meet Bradbury Mountain SP for the first time! And I think that sounds lovely. We decided we'll run there at 2pm on Wednesday. If anyone local likes the thought of going as slowly as we do, do feel free to come along. Lots of Very Important Topics of conversation will of course be discussed. Resistance is useless.

~98 minutes
~7.27 miles
About 14 degrees, breezy, sunny, 4-5" somewhat packed snowy trails and some roads
Hobbitland/Hallowell - Rolling hills, a few steeps, not like Bond Brook though!
Running pants, windpants, polypro LS shirt, fleece waffle shirt, windbloc fleece vest, midweught fleece jacket, cotton hippie hat, fleece-lined wool hat, big goretex gloves, smartwool socks, brooks cascadia 6 shoes. Wow.
----

I visited Shen yesterday and since I didn't take any run pictures today, here is a Shen pic!

1/14/2012 Thorncrag worldsnag

2012-01-14T18:54:00.003-05:00

I had written "run 16 miles" on my "what I am going to run today" plan. This was written a few weeks ago.

And what did I actually end up doing today? I invited Jules and her partner into the sunny sun sun of Thorncrag for a ramble.

Does it mean I don't take my conditioning seriously?
Does it mean I am at the mercy of my limitations?
Does it mean I take my training seriously enough to respect the governance of HRH Flexibility?
Does it mean I am choosing to safely remaining goal-less by ignoring any trace of plan?
Does it mean I failed to meet a goal?
Does it mean that I am simply trying to go easy on the shin today so as to hopefully be in better shape by my illustrious 2pm ~~Arctic~~ Bond Brond run tomorrow?

Am I not good enough because I didn't, or couldn't, do it? Or am I safe from loserdom because I didn't try it when I knew it wasn't going to happen?

Does it matter?

If I choose to abstain from spending too much time worrying about this, does that mean my heart isn't in it?

Or does that mean my heart has temporarily moved to higher ground -- and that it will return promptly as soon as the bio/mechanical squall has blown over?

-----

My friends Dan, Noah, and Jasper played on this album. Dan did the songwriting. And I think it's damn amazing: Wry Climate http://wryclimate.bandcamp.com/ I used to play in a band with Dan and his father (my ex composition professor and advisor), Rick. Great people - and cool "post-old-time" music - but man, has Dan come a LONG way since DXR days! It's been awesome to watch and hear...

1/13/2012 Thrashing about...

2012-01-13T17:15:00.001-05:00

There aren't too many colors left out there. Snow, crusty ice, dark evergreens, steel gray sky, birches...

Rosalea and I left the house at the same time but our routes parted after a few minutes when I turned off at the Maranacook Trails. There were 4-5" of snow with an icy crust that stabbed at my ankles through my thick socks. Maybe gaiters would be good next time, just for some extra protection. With much crashing and rattling, I broke trail up to the yellow blazes, where, amazingly, I saw a couple of folks walking along, and I hopped onto their tracks as I passed them.

Within 10-15 minutes I was already having some trouble with the shin and decided to try to walk for a minute to reset. I tried a few times to run again, but the discomfort was getting kind of intense. Hmmm. Well, it was gray and white and gorgeous out, threatening to rain. I decided to just hike and absorb some gray vibes, and, humbled again by the environments mere existence, to think.

I haven't run much on unpacked snow and I knew that today's excursion would be experimental, but I didn't really anticipate that I'd end up walking almost the whole time. Why did running hurt to a greater to degree than walking? I realized that at the end of each stride, when the back toe normally would push off, it was slipping as it left the ground. This caused the springing action in the ankle to get out of whack, and to overspring. I think is what pissed off the shin. Fucking annoying, but I suppose this is all part of the scenario. Not the end of the world...right?

As I walked along, I thought and mused and brainstormed on the inner mechanics of a leg/foot, and on a surface that is basically snow, and on the combination of these things. One theory I encountered, as I tried to answer the "why does this make my shin hurt" conundrum, was that perhaps I am working that specific area too hard. Perhaps my strength issue is higher up, some sort of posture issue maybe. Maybe it's, like, an abs thing, or an back thing. Hell, why not?! I could double my abs/back stuff just in case. Or, I could run not on slippery snow for a little while. Or both. Or something. I don't know.

I was otherwise comfy, and had overdressed just enough to be warm enough at a brisk, and very loud, walk. Feet were not even cold/wet, somehow. The lack of color and plentiful boundless solitude were a soothing combination. I decided to stay out for a while and ponder (and ponder) and ponder as I crested Suicide Hill and circled the blank field. Love.

As I emerged back at the road, a less-than-cold rain began to fall, and I carefully began to run the half mile home.

Other than trying out some of the stuff I recently eavesdropped from R's IronStrength thing, it has been a humble afternoon of ice and rest and searching...Searching for something that will inform and affirm my potential decision to go play at Bradbury tomorrow...

~60 minutes of mostly walking
~3 miles
~Two long sleeved fleece layers, pants, cotton hippie hat, gloves. Brooks Cascadia 6 with thick Smartwool socks as usual.
~About 26 degrees, 4-5" inches crusty snow, gray skies, some icy rain

1/12/2012 Shhhnowshhhoe

2012-01-12T22:22:00.000-05:00

I suppose I should spill the beans: My roommate and I have a toast fetish. Do you promise never to tell a soul?

It had been a rough week for this pair of toast enthusiasts. She was trying to get through a huge loaf of sub-par Anadama and I was struggling against some horrendous pastiche of ancient junk from the freezer. This morning, faced with a hellacious blizzard (like 4 inches worth), we realized we were SNOWED IN* WITHOUT TOAST.

*It had not actually started snowing yet. But we were willing to sacrifice reality for drama since there was toast involved.

In a flurry of motion (over the course of about 3 hours), ah created a huh yuge hunk of cornbred. It did not taste like Georgia but it was okay. I used a rogue variation of PPK's recipe. If eaten in aesthetically pleasing triangles, one can overlook some of attributes it lacks in taste.

Snow finally began to happen. I headed to the barn to go move a bunch of stuff between the first, second and third floors (pant pant pant) and was back home after a few hours since the roads already had started to suck and I am a pansy.

I wished I could have also made it out to Shen's barn today. Fuck you, распу́тица. I miss him. I like these wintry pics of him from January of 2011.

Yellow had commandeered Rosalea's yoga mat since it arrived on the living room floor last week. She finally managed to reclaim it by distracting him with cat food, but as soon as she launched into the IronStrength Workout, the feline returned to, ie, get under her while she was trying to do pushups. I didn't pay attention to the whole workout, but there was one nifty element from it that she later showed me. It's a sort of one-legged squat with a toe touch and a leap. The plyometric kiss meets the flexibility/strength Molotov. I suppose if you click that link (which I haven't) it must be in the video somewhere. It is fucking hard and amazing and I love it. And I love that you need Nothing to do it - you can just do it.

No running for me today. I snowshoed tonight for about 35 minutes, just enough to generate some heat. I wandered all around the edge of the forest, watching tiny sparkles of snow in my headlamp light. Fortunately no one was around to get upset with me for demanding that I only cross my own tracks at certain angles, or to question my snowshoe-triggered episodes of spatial OCD.

Every time I have snowshoed so far this season, the snows goes away. *shrug*

I wish I had everything Richard Brautigan has ever written right here with me tonight so I could blow off everything and hide under a hundred blankets and read.

1/11/2012

2012-01-11T22:40:00.003-05:00

Bond Brook was gawgiss this afternoon. The footing was fantastic with a bit of snow but less ice, and the breeze was more welcoming than tempestuous. It was in the low 20s, still chilly, and quite sunny.

TorTILLah (pictured) showed up for a third session of hilly torture and the trails were all glad to oblige. We started off in a different direction than usual, down the massive Kale Hill and onto some dirt roads that I'd never been on before.

After a mile or so, we were back in the woods and were soon onto yet another trail that I'd never even knew existed. It was barely a trail, marked just by little orange flags stuck in the ground, and it followed a wacky ridge for a little bit before dropping down off the side. We ended up having to walk most of this as it was steep and full of branch litter.

The area was wild and I completely liked it, but I am still wondering why the Augusta Trails people leave so much detritus on the forest floor. I haven't seen calls for volunteers lately (at all?) so I am not sure if the issue is not enough hands. I don't get it. So much fabulous work has been done there that it seems strange to me that no one would care about finishing the job all the way. (Also, the trails are still in progress, so maybe they just haven't gotten this far yet. Who knows?)

As we all know, a good running buddy can make or break a run. Tortilla aka Bob is a great running buddy because he'll go anywhere with a mellow smile. Also he is a rotten little bastard because even the steepest bitches of hills cause him no apparent effort. We tackled many of those and eventually headed onto a reverse snowshoe trail route, which is usually where we start our runs. It's a perfect warmup because it's a gentle, winding, downhill in the normal direction, so it was a great rump-swat today in reverse. We followed the extension up to the Gnome Quarry and then hit the Summit before a rather extensive cemetery excursion.

In said cemetery, we became inspired to discuss lots of Important Things such as environmentally friendly ways to die and be disposed of, and if you must have a gravestone, whether having a massive motion-sensored phallus as a gravestone is okay, and why it is essential to choose your friends based on whether they are the sort of people who can be trusted not to put weird non-biodegradable shit on your own gravestone, should you happen to die first.

My favorite Bob quote of the day was something like, "You can't make not-cool people turn cool. You just can't." Ding!

We ended with one last descent/ascent of Kale Hill for a total of just over 6 miles. The same shin and left hip were both being cranky so 6 felt like enough. Plus, I had to save time to go find a power shower before heading to a yoga thing. Practice today was damn incredible, as is instructor Audrey. This time I especially appreciated when she said "there is nothing you need to do right now" at the end during shavasana, after an intense hour-plus of pushing a variety of muscles to the point of quiver and quake.

I am wondering what sort of winter is going to arrive tomorrow. Was today my last real run? Is it all going to be snowshoes for the next few months? Murp. Hmm. Speaking of which, registration for the Bradbury Snow Series (thank you Trail Monsters) appears to be open...

The final thought for the night is that it rocks to have, yet again, found some new-to-me trails, and to have had the pleasure of good company to explore them with. Soon I shall go curl up with my Rushdie tome (which is totally dope, by the way) and then eventually become too drowsy to read.

And then I will say to myself, "there is nothing you need to do right now" over and over until sunrise.

~ 93 minutes
~6.08 miles
Two long sleeved shirts, vest, long pants
Sunny, mid 20s, breezey
Insane hills
Had to slow down/walk a little due to terrain havoc

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Yep - trying new format - old one had become troublesome. Please bear with me as I slowly fix the funky mess it has created within the archived posts. Oy vey.
Peace!

1/10/2012

2012-01-10T17:34:00.000-05:00

Coldness in the inside, mildness on the outside. I want to eat a pair of down booties.

Could not have asked for an easier recovery from the recent-ish longish run. Incredibly wunderbar. I think I am more thrilled with that than with the actual run. I didn't do anything special - didn't need to. I did take three of the World's Shortest Showers though, each clocking in at a BLAZING sub-three-hours. Something like that.

Yesterday unfortunately disintegrated into a number of stupid/boring variables that meant no running, which was annoying because I was not quite ready for an off day. Today was supposed to be a Tryon/Animal/Lines of Power exploration with Nebuchadnezzar....er, I mean, Luette, but more stupid variables threw knives at my equilibrium and this and that and bullshit. MUST go back there soon and play when fewer proverbial knife-throwing incidents are occurring.

I found (some semblance of) myself at the UMA "Fitness Trails". I used to run there a lot a few years ago, but hadn't returned in a while. They are geographically nearby Bond Brook but for some reason I am in adamant denial that they are as challenging. They always seem to have a welcoming gentle/filtering sunshiney thing going on when I am there, and I never know where the fuck any of the trails goes after the first intersection. Fortunately the entire trail system is relatively small (maybe a mile or two form end to end?), and they are all loops as far as I can tell. They are full of landmarks (which I tend to recognize better than intersections), and the sound of the highway generally always is off to a certain side.

The footing today was not bad -- wide flat doubletrack flowed over constant PUDs with hidden ice patches. Only had to slow down and pick my way a few times. The fact that running 3 miles took 40 minutes was entirely due to the fact that I do indeed run that slowly, of purpose, for real. If it pains you to read this, you can pretend that my technique is modeled after a Kenyan during initial pre-marathon warm up. This would be a fallacy, but this would also the be the internet, so it would be good practice for not believing everything you think you thought you read or perceived.

Right shin was a little funky. Same one as always. I was doing a bunch of technique stuff which does tend to irritate it. Pretty sure it's all just strength issues though - the area is under disproportionate strain I think since my foot likes to pronate, but I like to try to keep it in check.

I shambled past an old haunt: the music building.

Awkward moans and wails emanated from electric guitars as second-semester freshmen attempted to copulate some affection out of them. The low throb of the oft abused bass drum pulsed wretchedly as more youngsters haplessly humped the sin out of every (approximate) downbeat. Or maybe those were the sounds of every vagina for miles slamming shut in sympathetic fear that those guitarists were going to try them next.

But I digress.

The run seemed sort of pathetic but I didn't feel like running more, I felt like something else, so I went across the road (literally an figuratively) and lifted a bunch of heavy things many many times. Now when I put on soft music and go to oil my pecs in front of the mirror at night, there will be something there to oil.

Tomorrow (Wednesday) at 2pm there will be running happening at Bond Brook in Augusta. Not sure who's going to be around, but this will be the fourth edition and so far I've not run alone. There is a chance that Trek For Peace is rather ecstatic about this.

I am becoming increasingly interested in spreading the word among cool people. Slowly. Possibly surely. ("I am serious. And don't cal me Shirley!" -Leslie Nielson) There aren't many trail runners around here. Might need to proselytize some select road runners. Maybe there should be a questionnaire. Do you like mud? Are you good with a headlamp? Do you like views, fake parkour and emergency bouldering? Are you okay with getting lost? Are you at peace with cannibalism if we get that lost? Are you wicked badass bub? Are you starving for whatever the fuck it is that makes us want to do this stuff that we do?

~40 minutes
~3 miles
More hills than I'd like to admit, but not enough that I'd prefer to discuss
Two longsleeved tops, pants, gloves part of the time.
Sunny, 27 degrees F

1/8/2012

2012-01-08T18:59:00.000-05:00

I awoke feeling well, legs only a little sore and stiff. Hip flexors and right foot were most noticeable but I'd already planned an afternoon run at Bond Brook! AND Luette was going to come run with me. Too delightful to back out of.

We took it way easy due to wanting to take it easy, plus there was just a tiny bit of snow over everything and the going was pretty slick. We both did some impressive falling but fortunately nothing too damaging. We ran the red blaze loop-of-varied-ending anticlockwise for a while, and then with some minor faux-bushwhacking, I managed to lead her up to the nifty little gnome quarry where we paused so she could chuck boulders at the beauty of nature.

We discussed whether it's okay to run with a chalkbag for emergency bouldering situations, good band names (Ocelot Quandary, Unladylike Velocity), and how to tell which shrubbery is acceptable for parkouring into. We may or may not have discussed ambivalence. We also discussed politics, dumb graduation speeches, and, on the Hill of Doom, of course we verbally explored alternative uses for kale. Works every time.

We take our serious ultrarunning Very Seriously. I think we laughed almost the whole time.

~76 minutes
~4.5 miles
very hilly trails plus ice/inch of snow/mud
chilly/breezy 30s
long sleeves, vet, coulda used a hat

1/7/12 GAC FatAss in Topsfield MA

2012-01-08T10:17:00.010-05:00

Through the Trail Monsters, I'd heard about an event called the GAC FatAss 50k. Gil's Athletic Club, or GAC, hosts the event, and it consists of runners running up to five ~6mile loops through Bradley Palmer State Park in Topsfield, Mass. Like any FatAss, there's no entry fee, no prize, no free shirt, no need to even sign up if you aren't planning on doing the full 50k.

As usual, I didn't decide until the last minute if I'd go. But I must have at some point because I was on the road before 6am with a car full of the standard miscellany that pertains to non-real runners/double bassists. On the way down I was in high spirits. I analyzed some sweet tunes as the sun slowly began to illuminate my surroundings, and I was thankful to whatever for feeling peaceful and being physically able to run.

I wondered what percentage of sunrises I've seen during my time here, and what would be the best way to improve the ratio.

Though I had not specifically trained for the event, I had found myself feeling like I wasn't Not in condition for doing at least part of it. When I finally found a course profile online, I noted that the elevation changes, compared to the stuff I run on, where going to feel relatively non-existent. This meant that there was a minute chance that I could do something that really interested me: Run a new distance, in a new place, among other not-overly-competitive people, and be done with it in time to get cleaned up and re-charged by the evening's gig with my band, Cinder Conk.

In spite of my lack of planning, I managed marginally decent sleep and nutrition in the days before and morning of. Props to David again for turning me onto Brendan Brazier's Thrive stuff. And for the chia seeds, which have quickly became a staple. Major yum. More on that sometime.

There was no trace of snow and temps were already in the high thirties (and rising) by 8:30am, when I arrived minutes before a fleet of Trail Monsters. I saw Ian, Jamie, Blaine and of course David, and I couldn't remember Joe's face but I know he was there. (This is Joe who ran the 100 Mile Wilderness, unsupported. Joe with the "I've got a Clif bar" story which was an immediate legend in David's and my world.) There were quite a few other Monsters there too but I sadly couldn't stick the right names/faces together, or maybe I hadn't met them, I'm not sure. (Argh!!%$+^&*!%@~)

I wandered around for a bit and enjoyed the sun's warmth on my face. I considered visiting the restroom but there was a line, and I'd stopped along the way anyway so I wasn't really desperate...I'd just go after the first lap. (This information comes into play later...)

I put a gel into my Amphipod handheld and wondered if I should try to carry more stuff with no available pockets. (Is it wrong to run through the forests clutching a Luna bar, and would that affect my choice to do or not do it?) Or, if I should rely on the Annapurna of food at the aid table. I sort of have a thing about relying on unfamiliar food! I just feel better if I have my own stuff. And thus she had to pay the price for having not planned ahead: she would carry just water and the one gel.

(Weird: I picked out Annapurna because I know it's huge, and then randomly googled it to find a picture, to make sure it was the right shape. Because after all, it's monumentally important that my aid station metaphor is accurate. Thanks to wikipedia, I just learned that "Annapurna is a Sanskrit name which literally means "full of food" ...In Hinduism, Annapurna is "the universal and timeless kitchen-goddess ...Without her there is starvation, a universal fear." Perfect.)

The race started with no fanfare. A gaggle of well over 100 people that was standing still was suddenly running, walking, ambling, and shuffling toward a wee pathway into the forest. Most of whom were wearing more clothing than I was (I had on one layer of long sleeves, no hat/gloves etc). I hung back and was part of a sizable traffic jam due to the first bit of trail being a steep-ish bottleneck. The first 5 minutes were decidedly over-populated, but within 10 minutes everyone was steadily trotting along mostly flat, graded carriage roads.

I tried to remember to press "lap" on the GPS at every mile, resulting in a rather haphazard split times but the trend was fairly obvious: this terrain was completely different than anything like what I run on here in Maine. I was going faster than usual. They say you shouldn't do that on long runs! But, effort-wise, I was coasting. A quandary! I decided to just run and not spend too much time effing around with a perfectly reasonable pace (my "fast" = most peoples' "extremely relaxed").

During the first lap, I was pretty distracted by the voices of the people around me. I FINALLY got away from the worst offenders, which took more effort than almost any other part of the whole run! The vibe over all was pretty chill thereafter... but of course it wasn't quite the same as a Trail Monster event.

I'd heard rumor of the hill at mile 3, and sure enough, it appeared as a lengthy rise of single track. It was just like home! I decided to be a good little runner and adjust my pace downward more than I wanted to, since I would be seeing this hill one or two more times. Just in case. I'd chatted a bit in the past mile with a nearby man behind me who was a bit older, a bit injured, and who was here for the whole 50k. "You're charging right up this thing like it's not even here!" he said. It is still nice to have a little affirmation even when it is from someone who is older, injured, and behind you, and when you are moving slower than normal on purpose!

The first 6 mile lap went by relatively quickly, in just over an hour. There was some chatting, since (surprisingly) many other people were going at roughly Unstrung pace too. There were lots of easy miles through forests and fields, lots of flatness, one long paved area (!?) and no trouble from the shin, awesomely. I had sipped at my water several times but realized I had only drank a couple of inches. I resolved to drink MORE! I kind of had to pee more now but eh, not worth stopping, I really wanted to just keep going. Stupid decision. I didn't even stop at the aid station.

I ended up running the whole second lap with an affable fellow named Pete, a calm and thoughtful EMT from somewhere near Topsfield. Like me, he also hadn't decided how much he was running today but was just glad to be out doing it. We talked about music a bit, and when he said, "In Europe, they still see music as an art form, but here, it's seen as part of the entertainment industry," I knew that this lap was going to fly by. Between music stuff and amusing stories about bizarre EMT situations, fly, it did.

I nipped into a gel when we reached The One Hill. I probably got about a third of it. I didn't really feel like I needed it yet, hoping to stave off the feeling of needing it. Since I didn't use much of it, I didn't feel much effect (which was fine) but I wonder if it actually even did any good. On the hill I managed to get stuck behind a couple walkers and actually had a hard time getting around them but finally they stepped aside (my bad, I should have mentioned wanting to pass instead of expecting mind reading! Doh...)

I took another mouthful of gel about half an hour later and tried to keep drinking more. At the flat, paved area at the end of lap two, I was feeling great except for one small problem: I started to feel Hungry. Damnit. I should have been more strategic about fueling. I did not really feel like I needed more gel at this point though; I think I needed some actual food.

After an illustrious whiz, finally, I headed to the Annapurna-sized aid station to try to graze before continuing on. The amount of food was overwhelming, unorganized, and disconcertingly unfamiliar and I just wanted to go run more asap. I ended up grabbing three small pretzels which probably wasn't really enough, and drinking my h20 down to a little under halfway. (Probably should have needed to refill by now...Amphipods aren't that big.) Hello, hindsight.

Pete decided he was likely all set after the second lap - he'd only ever done a little over 9 miles before so doing 12 today was great for him. We said our farewells and I went on, feeling totally in good shape for lap three. Having had a surprise surrogate running buddy for lap two was cool since I'd been unsuccessful in dragging Luette along today. (Note: It was NOT the same, and I am totally dragging her to the next event.) That said, I was also glad to be beginning lap three in solitude -- for the first time in the whole run, there were minutes where I was totally alone. My previous longest run, two weeks ago, was 13.3 miles, so now at 12 miles, my feet were just starting to feel a bit used. Overall my legs felt great, back was fine, mind was totally ready to keep going for a third lap.

I was a little nervous about not having picked up more edibles or water, but did a little trail math and figured I would make it. I still had around 1/2 a gel and 1/2 a thing of water. The pretzels had helped and I thought/hoped I was safely out of bonk zone.

Then something weird happened at mile 13. Started to feel really uncomfortable, like I had to pee again. (TMI for you? Sorry, that's just part of trail running! And, it could be a lot worse...) I was like, WTF and sipped a little more water, thinking, hmmm, better encourage the process of flushing the system. BUT I didn't have a ton of h20 left, and needed to save enough to use with the gel later, if needed. This created a bit of a potentially tricky situation. First I was just like fuck it, you are so almost done, just put it out of your mind and and enjoy this beautiful run. You'll be fine!

About 90 seconds later, I was like, hm, this does Not feel good at all. I decided to scamper off behind a tree and attempt to pee and then immediately feel great and then all would be well. The first 1/3 of my plan worked great: I found a great tree and apologized to it for the potential pollution. The rest of the plan was totally anti-climactic.

Again I decided to just ignore the issue and just run. I knew I could totally do it.

But my old friend showed up. Her name's Reality.

The long, sordid history of our relationship is basically an albatross that flies steadily toward the future.

And she was like, Yo, you could have done it, sure, IF you hadn't make some stupid decisions earlier. But now you are reaping the repercussions of having not respected the basic requirements of your body. Nice work. You're fucked.

I thanked her for the grim yet obvious advice. Faced with something I could not run through, the decision was made by my situation.

Humbled, I turned around and managed to run slowly back to my car. I crossed paths with Ian, whose signature cheerful greeting and relaxed expression are always a welcome sight. He looked crazy strong! I wondered if I would see some other monsters behind him in the next few minutes, but didn't. It was almost noon and a lot of people had already a called it a day so the trails were still abuzz but much quieter now.

I hit 15 miles as I reached good old Dog Dick Red. 2:57. Funny how fast one can go without hilly madness! I decided to refuel (cashew and maca nuts, luna protein bar, and I believe also some dried peas) and tried to drink my troubles away, to see if I could alter whatever was happening that had finished me off. I spent some time taking inventory of myself. Mind, are you with me? Yep. No anxiety, at all? Nope. You sure? Yep. Body, you cool? Right foot a little sore, otherwise okay. I looked in the mirror; my face was encrusted in salt. Windblown but not unwell.

At this point, there was no denying it: I'd wanted to run 18 miles today, and now I'd stopped at 15. After about 10 minutes I got up and immediately felt very uncomfortable and Not runnable. Tried one last time after about 5 more minutes. Not happening. Grrrrr.

I drove north, ate food, drank more, peed for real in Portsmouth (why do I feel like some sort of beat poet?) and listened to Ira Glass' guest speaker talk about the working conditions in Apple's iPad factories. Which, thankfully, was captivating enough to distract me from feeling sort of loser-ish.

By the time I reached Portland, I was positive that there was no way I was done running for the day. I had begun to feel a little stiff and the headache was threatening to descend, but nothing major. I drove straight to the Eastern Trail, the totally flat path that David had shown me a few months ago.

I re-fastened the GPS and started to run. The headache protested loudly which was a hell of a drag at first, but, amazingly, after half a mile, it was at bay enough. I was able to continue. Legs felt a little used, mind felt a little used, everything else, weird stuff included, was a-okay. I was definitely runnable at this point. Sweet. I cajoled my body to hang on for three more easy miles, making a total of...

...eighteen miles. Check!

I have run for 3.5 hours before, but I only made it 13.3 miles when I did. That's the difference between Bradbury and Bradley Palmer for ya.

The best part was that the headache of ultimate doom never really happened and did not come back after it tried to join me on the ET. This is UNHEARD of after a long run, and a triumph of the best flavor. Because why even run if you are going to feel like shit afterwards, eh?

Luette let me sneak into her house and use her shower even though she wasn't there, which is another reason she rocks, and I got to my gig that night in New Gloucester in plenty of time. I danced around like a bass loon all night, which I'd not imagined I'd be able to do, and the audience was awesome. Matt absolutely shredded, which was also awesome.

My feet were too beat to shit to fit into my dress shoes so I played barefoot; sadly for the people of New Gloucester, I was only able to get half the mud off my feet before the show. And I apologize if anyone was permanently scarred from having to see my gnarled toenails.

Overall, an unforgettable and perhaps even unimaginable day. I am pretty sure better hydration/fueling would have had me able to finish 18 in one shot but who knows. If that was not the problem, then I have no idea what it was, but I doubt it was running related. Anyway, 15 is still solid for me, and 18 in two runs is good too. No headache is good. Good gig is good. I am looking forward to whatever happens next. Friends + trails are the best.

Peace!

~ 15 miles
~ 2 hours and 57 minutes
Mostly flat graded carriage roads
Long sleeved shirt/pants

and then...
~ 3 miles
~ 33:38 minutes
Flattest place ever, the Eastern Trail
Same gear plus a windbloc fleece vest

1/5/12

2012-01-05T22:37:00.003-05:00

Thanks to the Trail Monsters, who host fabulous races year round (trail running and snowshoeing), I discovered Bradbury Mountain State Park in Pownal, Maine, last summer.

I headed there this morning to meet my amazing running buddy, Luette, and squeeze in a quick hour of scrambling about in the forest and our specialty, radical thought. We decided to check out the path toward the Connector (Bradbury to Pineland), an area she hadn't checked out before, but that my good friend from X-City Running, David, and I had mapped out a few weeks ago.

The footing was quite sketchy and huge swaths of ice across the trail kept our pace pretty erratic. We did make it successfully over the river and nearly to Tryon Mountain though, and I felt pretty confident, navigation-wise. It can be a little confusing out there but the Trail Monsters (I think) have actually done a really nice job with placing a few subtle hints in key confusing areas.

We discussed Salman Rushdie, how to mathematically rate your dislike of water, sex offenders, booking agents, whether we want to participate in the GAC Fatass in two days, Unitarian Universalits, and many other Important Ultra Running Topics.

Great run. Totally don't give a hoot that it took us an hour to go 3.6miles, which is so slow that no sane person would publish it on the interwebs. BAM!

~60 minutes
~3.61 miles
Hilly trails.
Temps in the 30s - no gloves or hat! Only two long-sleeved shirts. Lovely running weather.

1/4/12

2012-01-05T22:23:00.004-05:00

This was another freakin COLD day, or at least it seemed as such starting out. I had on two long sleeved layers under a shell, plus hat/gloves as is my current trend. I'd sent out an open invite for my 2pm runs on Weds and Sundays at Bond Brook, but a few of my possible running partners had mentioned they couldn't make it. And I would be shocked if Bob came back after last time, because surely...

Wait, that's his car! Tortilla returned for more running torture! Insane. More insane though was that he hadn't brought his running pants but did happen to have a pair of shorts in the car. So today, with a feels-like-zero-degree windchill, he wore shorts. Very hardcore.

We started out at a fairly brisk pace, in order to get warm, on my favorite warm-up, the lower east section of Snowshoe (red diamond blaze) trail. It is twisty, mostly downhill, single-track for the first mile or so. We followed it until it looped back upon itself, then hit the double track for a while, went to Heaven, and then Bob parkoured into a bush just because.

It actually wasn't that cold in the forest, out of the wind. We explored the upper east part of the Snowshoe Trail and then yet another trail off of that that I'd never checked out. We had to slow down a ton because the footing was sketchy and there were some blowdowns, but we passed a really neat, tiny quarry-like thing and eventually made our way over the Summit and did a loop through the graveyard before deciding we both needed to run up some more hills before calling it a day.

It is a treat to have such good company for cold/hilly/otherwise-potentially-difficult runs. I have been so lucky for the past months - lots of good times out there.

Even with all our walking/picking our way, we ran 1min/mile faster than last Sunday. I'd had zero expectations about pace but it was nice to see that we have some variety available. The shin splint (from a few months ago...) was noticeable but did nit slow me down.

~83 minutes
~6 miles
Insane hilly trails
Fucking freezing, sunny

1/3/12

2012-01-05T22:06:00.003-05:00

All of a sudden, today it was winter. I didn't run yesterday when it was gorgeous, and today it was...not gorgeous. I considered wimping out and not running until my roommate, Rosalea, showed up in her running gear. Wanna wun? she said.

That was enough peer pressure for me. I jumped into my wunning wear and we headed out into the Arctic. We actually had different routes in mind since she wanted to stick to roads and I wanted to do trails and maybe some speed*, so we actually only ran together for a few minutes. Still, it's awesome to be out there at the same time. It just is somehow easier.

I wasn't sure how the cold would affect me. I became vaguely but not very warm as I scampered through the Maranacook trails and made my way toward the track. I did a couple of quarter-miles of speed* around 8:45min/mile pace (don't laugh -- I am honestly, truly, really that slow -- more on this later) and actually shed one of my three (or four?) layers I was wearing for a little while. Recovery meant getting cold fast though and I decided to save a real speed* workout for another day.

Ran down the school driveway and up the Yellow Blaze trail, back around the field a bit, and home. Rosalea had done about the same mileage as me, plus also run a few errands and returned home by the time I got in. Depressing? Nah, no use in going down that road about something like this. It just means I need a lot more practice...

~66 minutes
~5 miles
Solo
Gentle hills with a hint of track
Brrrr...

1/1/12

2012-01-05T21:50:00.004-05:00

This afternoon I ran at the Bond Brook trails, aka The Augusta Boobs. I had the pleasure of being joined for the first time by cross-country-unicyclist, Bob Mueller, aka Tor-TILLA, who is somewhat new to running. His good nature and willingness to gallop (slowly - I didn't want to break him, or me) up the insane hills and get totally lost was great. I used to be best buds with his older brother but none of us had really connected in a long time, so it was nice to hear the latest dirt on everyone while trying not to crack a femur on the icy gnarl of the trail. He is beginning to condition for a 2,174mile hike on the Appalachian Trail in a few months.

I've run many times as Bond Brook now and yet there is always new coolness to be found. Today we found a really lovely new ridgy section that seemed to go gently up and up as godbeams (sciencebeams) filtered down on us through the pines. It was an upper section if the Snowshoe (red blaze) trail, but I shall dub it Heaven. We also did a couple of hill repeats on the (pictured) Gargantuan Hill of Doom. (GHOD.)

Seriously, for being in the heart of downtown Augusta, this place is wicked badass.

~81min
~5.5miles
crazy hills/some ice
around 40 degrees, sunny

And now, what is Trek for Peace?

2012-01-05T20:51:00.004-05:00

Greetings, friends far and near ~

Autumn here included several lovely local hikes, each a delight, including Tumbledown (for my first time! pics soon!), and lots of little stuff around Midcoast Maine (Ragged Mountain, pictured). I didn't make it back to the Whites (sadly), or Baxter (though after three Baxter trips over the summer, I was feeling temporarily satiated).

I also either outgrew or destroyed all of my hiking footwear by Autumn. (Anyone want to buy some awesome W's size 9 -ish lightweight Gore Tex Lowa boots in very good shape?) One one hand, this was a drag, but on the other hand...I realized more and more that I was leaving the pack at home and reaching for my trail running shoes.

Trek For Peace continues evolving, or at least morphing, with no reliable consistency. In honor of that, I'm going to pursue some experiments with it in the coming months, including posting some (most? all? partial?) of my running log entries here.

There are no real goals to speak of, no motivation except motivation itself, and no reasons other than an interest in continuing to reach outward and inward simultaneously. As usual, I reserve the right to rapidly change my mind about any of this at any moment, so please look forward to anything, embrace whatever you love, and know that your adventurous nature as a blog-reader is much appreciated.

Peace!
Unstrung

the last night of the year.

2011-09-27T22:30:00.005-04:00

i spent the final sunset of the year (i suppose this depends on when you start and end your years) alone on a ledge partway up Camden's Mount Battie, perhaps my oldest friend. basking horizontally on granite still warm from the sun, i could hear the distant anti-wilderness, thrashing out its lives far below. i ignored it, only to find there was still noise: my own thoughts were at the door, raving, sails flapping, the works.

i won't let those freaks in. they always make a mess of the place.

Book recommendation - Monster of God: The Man-Eating Predator in the Jungles of History and the Mind by David Quammen

2011-08-29T22:36:00.006-04:00

I just finished reading David Quammen's book, Monster of God: The Man-Eating Predator in the Jungles of History and the Mind. Here's its Amazon page which has some decent reviews. I hope you'll either borrow it from a library or purchase it locally from your favorite tiny independent bookstore. If you can't find it, you can order it from my favorite tiny independent bookstore, called hello hello of Rockland, Maine.

My review will be short, more of a recommendation than a review, really. Basically this book is about humans as meat, and animals with the capacity to view them as such.

Quammen's amazing writing (damn near Nabokovianin perfection) details his travels all over the globe, during which he spends time in areas populated simultaneously by people as well as bears, tigers, lions, and crocodiles.

Do not be scared off by the 500-page-ness. It comes in very small chunks so you can stop at any time and not be left in the dust. If you are interested in the interaction between people/animals/environments, and appreciate great writing with strong cohesive flow -- you'll dig it.

P.S. Trek For Peace is now on facebook. You know what to do!

The Baldpates - West Peak and East Peak - Maine

2011-08-24T21:46:00.015-04:00

Before we begin - feel free to follow Trek For Peace on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Trek-For-Peace/152374188119620

The Baldpates - West Peak (~3662') and East Peak (~3780') via the Appalachian Trail
Distance: 7.8 miles*
Pace: Moderate; steady but with lots of stopping for photos
Time : 5.5hours*
Trailhead: Grafton Notch State Park - north of Newry, Maine

After three splendid trips to Baxter this year already, each with excellent company, I was eager to have some solo time in a different area - preferably something not quite so far away. The two hour drive up to Grafton Notch State Park was still excruciating but whose fault is that?

What a contrast from Baxter! The relative gentleness in Grafton Notch always catches me off guard. The Appalachian Trail up the Baldpates is very well worn packed dirt for almost the entire first two miles. There is plenty to navigate and climb but it's a comparative breeze.

The upper third of the trail to the first summit, West Peak, involved a lot of water running over rock ledges, and then endless stone steps. Trail crews have done a really extraordinary job up there.

The day was somewhat overcast but the forecast had demanded that it should not rain; I stubbornly clung to this information. The dampness in the air made for great blasts of post-rain/foresty-pine smells all along the way.

The first summit, West Peak, came about in partial sun and I enjoyed my first glance at the rocky mound of East Peak.

There's nothing like the sight of a great summit to get you (me!) revved up after a rather tough climb.

I kept moving, uninterested in stopping except for a few moments here and there, not even to take a million below-average pictures. Simply going quietly toward the calmness that is forward motion. The humidity was countered with a refreshing coolness that whispered tiny breezes of the coming autumn. I decided to descend to the area between summits for a real pause, mostly for a chance to drink down a pound or two of water before having to do a final (almost) climb to the East Peak.

The energy arising from being precisely where I wanted to be was overwhelming and I eagerly began the last bit of the journey to East Peak. There were some neat ladders and a couple of beautiful alpine meadows along the way.

Then came a more-enjoyable-than-steep walk up a granite face, of which I took a ton of photos on the way down. And then one of the coolest summits I've ever checked out!

The camera was very much out by now, and my reckless photo-taking -- exacerbated by being alone and able to take all the time in the world -- was underway. Who needs self control at a time like this?!

Cool rock formations, funky stripes and other geological delights were everywhere.

Recent rains had caused some lovely tide-pool-esque areas around the summit. The wind was gusting; I'd put on a light fleece layer while between summits, and now was considering a third layer as well.

East Peak!

Lovely alluring granite underfoot...

In attempts to eternally remember the complete charm of the day, it seemed apropos to preserve this small memento of the passing clouds.

Paths lined in stone accompanied frequent cairns near the real summit of east peak.

Looking back toward west peak, some of the steep rocky areas were visible. That's Old Speck, Maine's third highest, off to the right in the background.

For the wicked official Trek For Peace record: I will probably not make a point to climb Old Speck again except for the purpose of getting to Speck Pond or Mahoosuc Notch. The Baldpates simply have way cooler summits.

Swaths of exhausted, wind-beaten grasses provide such a lush textural and colorful contrast to their rocky surroundings. Speaking of wind, I was beginning to get legitimately cold! A refreshing feeling after months of humidity and heat and heat and humidity. Welcome, Autumn, old friend. The door for you is always open.

Hanging out on top for quite a while had seemed like a great idea while en route, but as is often the case, after taking tons of photos, I was ready to keep moving. Not so much because of the temperature -- I did still have an other layer if needed -- but more because the art of stopping, really stopping, continues to be illusive. Something to work on...

The most dodgy climbing, which was really pretty tame, was between the two peaks. There was a good bit of water and/or mud on the trail in a few spots. As I made my way back, I documented a few interesting areas.

And when there wasn't mud, there was rock - some with really nifty stripes and ridges, most home to a little circus of lichen.

And every now and then, there was the rare possibility of....a root.

Who doesn't love a good ladder? Fortunately, after surviving the ladder of doom (it's somewhere on the south/west side of Goose Eye Peak on the AT), I think I am permanently immune to ladder fear, and tend to be less impressed by ladders in general.

I got slightly distracted by (and spent ages with) the zillions of lovely mushroom and fungi type beings back near the West Peak.

Soon I was back to the wet slabs and the stone steps. Still was pleasantly cool even down here - I actually hiked wearing fleece the whole way down. It seems like not such a big deal now as I write it, but me + sleeves + hiking is pretty rare except in Winter.

On the way up, I'd decided that I would count the steps on the way down. I got to 481, yes, FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHTY ONE. And then a nearby grouse began drumming its wings nearby -- such a crazy cool sound -- and I lost count. Keep in mind too that each step is often made up of more than one stone. That's a lot of badass stone placing!

And how could I not take a picture of a tree that looked like an octopus? There was a squid tree too, but you'll have to go check it out for yourself.

After the steps, the trail was again mostly soft dirt and pretty easy walking.

There was lots of soft dappled sunlight, flickery leafy light, moss, and silence.

I only saw a couple of folks; there had been a few more while on the ascent. Quite a few backpackers, a few AT hikers, and some day hikers as well. Most exchanged a few lines of conversation, every single one involving the joy of being on this mountain. I don't think I saw a single other female traveling alone. Strange. Why not?

Beautiful bright white blazes. Is it wrong to see paint on a tree or rock as beautiful? Is it toxic? Do chipmunks eat it and croak? Do trees mind being painted? Is it itchy? Is it not worth worrying about? Is it worth worrying about?

Either way, the appeal and adversity of the solo hike is, of course, being alone with only your present surroundings and the hapless wanderings of your own bizarre mind...

...And that's it. Engage at your own risk, but do, for sure, engage.

what is trek for peace?

2011-08-06T23:30:00.004-04:00

Trek For Peace is what happens when you are haplessly addicted to sunsets and endorphins.

Ended up back BSP again last week...

Sunset at Togue Pond, near the south entrance of Baxter State Park? Yes please.

Another trip up The Owl? Yes please.

The Owl: I know, we were just there! But it is totally worth multiple visits. The upper third especially is such a delight; the boulder scrambling is just sweet enough to be fully engaging, but is never overwhelming. I loved coming home with sore lats; any hike that involves a bonus upper body workout is good in my book.

Franconia Ridge - Lafayette, Lincoln, and Little Haystack - New Hampshire - July 19, 2011

2011-07-21T12:33:00.030-04:00

Franconia Ridge - Mt Lafayette (5249'), Lincoln (5089'), and Little Haystack (4800')
Distance: ~8.9 miles
Pace: Comparatively brisk. Romano says it'll take 8 hours and he's usually right on, for me. We did it in 6.5 hours.
Trailhead: Lafayette Place, north of Lincoln, NH.

At 3:40am on Tuesday morning, suddenly all of the reasons and excuses were gone, and everything was ready. I was ready. I ran down my packing list one more time, grabbed a fistful of spinach, and headed for Franconia Ridge.

I had managed to cajole another enthusiastic human to brave the sunrise and come along, so after a brief detour to find him around 5:15am, we sailed westward. I believe most of our conversation involved discussion of whether to hike the upcoming loop clockwise or counterclockwise.

My extensive research on the matter concluded that one had to do it both ways, and also from the north via Skookumchuk, and also at night, and worth a visit for sure in the winter, and autumn; I have made note of all these recommendations and intend to try them in years to come. (And thanks to the VFTT crew for all the insight! You are hardcore.)

Today, however, after my trusty companion and I both had pored over the AMC book and the well-broken-in Jeff Romano book, the decision was eventually (at nearly the last moment) made to travel clockwise. We would begin on Old Bridle Path. Note: Jeff says to go counterclockwise! This is one of my first blatant Jeff defiances!

We reached the inside of a cloud containing Lafayette Place a little after 7:30am, and after shuffling about with packs and footgear (trail runners instead of boots this time; the future is upon us!?!), were en route by 7:44am. The clouds were in motion and we caught frequent glimpses of surrounding peaks as we arrived, and once on the trail it was somewhat bright and a bit chilly - ideal climbing weather.

Old Bridle Path begins honestly enough, clearly heavily used but decently maintained. The footing was relatively flat-ish for the first mile or so, even runnable if one wasn't carrying a pack. Before too long, the steady ascent steepens and gives way to the wild jumbled rockiness of our glacial past.

Roughly halfway to the AMC Greenleaf Hut, we emerged up onto some magnificent, open granite ledges, fringed with patches of mountain(bog?) laurel, with views to the west of Walker Ravine, and also ahead to a partial profile of Franconia Ridge. Clouds tumbled about the scenery, interspersed with brightness, and the temperature remained cool and impeccably perfect.

Our first landmark, pre-hut, would be The Agonies, no doubt a term of endearment given by hut croo for an especially steep and especially rocky area in an area already pretty rocky and steep. There is no upper limit to what the croo will shuttle up and down; their loads could spook a yak. I think they must all keep the ibuprofen companies on speed dial.

Apparently named because horses used to ferry tourists to the Lafayette summit, Old Bridle Path looked anything but passable by horse, especially several miles in, where nonstop rocky areas require some careful navigation. My own horse is a rugged little Lippitt Morgan, a breed that originated in Vermont and is known for sure-footedness. I'm pretty sure there is no way he wouldn't fall on his schnoz on this sort of terrain, no doubt launching his passenger into orbit. I wonder if the trail used to be graded to some extent, or perhaps its current condition is the result of erosion and over-use. Or if horses back then had diamond encrusted hooves.

Slightly mystified, we continued moderately along The Agonies, stopping here and there to try to get a decent photo of the fabulous terrain.

We quickly reached Greenleaf Hut (~4200') and paused briefly to check it out (it's pretty sweet!) It's the third highest in elevation of the AMC huts, with only Madison Spring and Lakes of The Clouds higher. We'd traveled ~2.9 miles at this point.

We continued on the somewhat-less-steep Greenleaf Trail for ~ 1.1 mile, passing by Eagle Lake on the way. Soon, the trees went from scrubby to gone. Mist with snaps of wind presented a dramatic atmosphere as we scampered (him) and ambled (me) up through the alpine zone toward Lafayette's summit.

There is something akin to a silence within the sound of wind, in between and/or through it somehow, that I find positively irresistible. I also appreciate the feeling of total isolation when fog is all there is, omnipresent, visible yet blocking visibility, a hitchhiker picked up by every passing inhalation.

Rocky paths wove upward linking hive-like cairns together like knotted string. Tiny pale wildflower clusters with miniature, dense, green foliage huddled low and brightly.

Mist wrapped around everything. Green and gold grasses seemed too tough to react to the wind; they hunkered as you would, too, if you live up here.

Lafayette's summit (5249') was just past a flock of stray boulders, and it was all gray and whiteness.

Mere hints of surrounding peaks showed through, but it was apparent that the the sun was hard at work.

A granite enclosure of sorts remains from years past. I admire infinitely whoever built that thing. Foundation? Paddock? Fabulous, regardless.

One banana later, our sojourn adjourned toward Mount Lincoln via the Franconia Ridge Trail which is blazed white, for it is also the Appalachian Trail.

The thru-hikers were as always easy to pick out - huge packs, minimal clothes, rather unforgettable odors (weed, hikerfunk, etc the most common).

Anyone know when this slide happened? Nothing seemed to be growing on it; does this mean it was quite recent? Are there any other ways to tell?

The only thing better than walking on an amazing ridge above treeline is to do it when the clouds are flying about, and the only thing better than that, is to have all of the above plus an encounter with surprise wild ginormous rocky formations.

They don't show much on the map, and photos don't do them justice. You simply have to go there and experience them yourself, or if you can't, at least enjoy it vicariously through my twitterpated ramblings.

Flume and Liberty (remember them?) remained visible to the south.

The geographically spastic area between the much hailed summits was like no other, and in a hike of consistent badassery, it was downright extraordinary.

And thus it was christened: The Sag. Move over peakbaggers, the sagbaggers have arrived. I believe my co-conspirator coined the term; look for it in the next issue of HIKING ILLUSTRATED. Photo credit goes to the fleet and nimble Colin.

Sadly, it doesn't show well in my photos, but the much of the lichen up here was a most vivid neon green.

Franconia's reputation for hosting hoards of tourists was realized as the morning rose toward noon. A mere tourist-gaggle couldn't really do significant damage our journey, but still, lingering upon Lincoln (which was lovely) and Haystack (equally lovely) would have been sort of a drag due to the population.

And as all the ancient texts reveal, sagbaggers are transient beings, oft becoming skittish when not in motion. In a moment of urgency, they bolted off the final summit and onto Falling Waters trail.

Falling Waters Trail wasn't supposed to be quite as steep as the Old Bridle Path, but the difference was minimal.

It was steep as shit and rushing downward was, for me, out of the question. Self preservation, ya know? I just imagine the sound and sensation of, say, a torn ACL, and I slow my bad self right on down. Simple as that.

This is not to say it wasn't a really beautiful trail. I enjoyed its rather crude welcome. And true to its name, it's middle/lower section was adorned with quite a few waterfalls, including one little 0.1 spur path that led to Shining Rock.

What is Shining Rock? I wondered. At only 0.1 mile off the trail, it was a deal we could not refuse. We headed down (yes, down) to investigate.

How peculiar! It turns out that it's a rock, a rock that is shining. It's basically a tremendous granite wall, a not-quite-vertical cliff, with a sort of flat waterfall along most of it. I imagine the ice climbers probably dig this like mad.

Another impressive sight - three chicks frolicking up the path, totally barefoot. I was wearing kind of crappy/flimsy/older trail running shoes due to various footwear, uh, "issues". (It's, how you say, complicated...) I was pretty sure they'd work, but that I'd be not thrilled with them by the end of the day.

Unfortunately I was right, they mostly worked but I was missing a more substantial boot or at least a tougher shoe. (Good points too though - no friction issues, good grip on rock, very light.) Barefoot is a level of tough that, simple as it seems, is hella intense and over my head at the moment. (Let's revisit this in a year.) I wonder if the trio of barefooters descended barefoot as well. That'd be wicked hardcore. But anyway....waterfalls!

The trail remained quite rocky at times until finally flattening out as we neared the trailhead. We were mostly back at the car around 2:15 pm. Mostly, because I am still sort of on the ridge and have no plans of coming down anytime soon.

what is trek for peace?

2011-07-15T20:40:00.003-04:00

trek for peace is one step after another after another.

i have no more to say about greg mortenson, positive or negative - i hope his work flourishes and that he can iron out whatever the fuck just happened. that's all. i think jon krakauer's new book, titled Three Cups Of Deceit is probably fascinating, and i hope we all read it at some point, because why not?

i'm back to my roots - where i always way anyway. this blog is once again utterly self indulgent, written for a variety of reasons, most of which involve shit you can figure out for yourself if you're bored, or we can talk about them sometime, or we can not worry about them.

still, your following and reading of these humble accounts is appreciated, and i thank you for this vague but slightly present company of sorts. i'm glad you're out there. i hope you all go out and play as frequently as possible.

Maine - Baxter State Park - Horse Mountain - June 17, 2011

2011-06-24T19:54:00.010-04:00

Friday morning had come too quickly! Yes, I was eager to get a shower and rinse off the black fly carcasses and sweat and blood and bug dope that had been accumulating since Tuesday. Yes, I was eager for a really good night's sleep on my own pallet. Yes, I was hungry to get back to a slew of music that was threatening to slip away unwritten, unremembered, and ever unplayed.

The comforts of home were, indeed, beginning to call.

However! We didn't have to leave the park until noon. On the previous evening, en route to ice cream, we'd driven by a stunning cliff near the Matagamon Gate that I had become quite taken with. I referred to the map, which showed that it was near the summit of Horse Mountain. A short spur off to the Northeast would lead you to (what appeared to be near) the top of the cliffy area.

It would be a total of around 3.5 miles if we did the lookout and the Horse Mountain summit, which was a modest 1,589 feet in height. It was perfect timing- and energy-wise.

The register at the trailhead showed that last people to hike Horse were there about a week and a half ago.

Once again I was amazed that more people simply did not frequent these lovely areas. A bug net and some bug spray and it's just not that bad, people! Amazing.

The trail appeared to have once been a road, which made sense as apparently there used to be a fire tower at the summit. It was somewhat overgrown and showed some pretty significant erosion; I imagine it's low on the list of the trail crews' priorities. It was a pretty gentle, steady climb through a mostly deciduous forest; thankfully we were sheltered from the sun as temps, again, were well into the seventies.

We reached the summit junction in around an hour and topped out at a summit with just a hint of views to the south, if you're tall enough. After a few minutes, we headed back to the junction and took the slightly-longer-than expected path to the overlook, which I'd hoped would be at the top of the cliff I'd seen.

The trail wound around and actually sloped downward a ways and we almost turned around, thinking maybe there'd been some mistake. Then, suddenly, we come up over a ledgey area and were treated to very nice views in several directions.

A signpost was near the best view-spot, and we plunked down and ate some apples. (Somehow, David had survived without a bugnet -- mine had been on all morning. Maybe because he was using DEET, and I wasn't.)

Looking out over Lake Matagamon was really unique - none of the views from anything in the south side of the park look anything like this. Wicked cool.

Maine - Baxter State Park - North Traveler - June 16, 2011

2011-06-21T23:13:00.025-04:00

Peak: North Traveler 3144'
Place: Baxter State Park, ME. North of Millinocket, next to Katahdin.
Trail: North Traveler Trail. Trailhead at South Branch Pond Campground on Pogy Notch Trail.
Distance: ~5.8 miles
Pace: moderately slow (roughly "book time")

For years now, I'd longed to see the open summit of North Traveler mountain, and for a number of mundane reasons, I'd had to keep putting it off. Today, with a glorious forecast and a warm up hike on Owl under our belts yesterday, it was finally going to happen.

We took our time making breakfast, packing lunch, and getting ready, finally hitting the trail at a laid-back 10:30am. We weren't doing the Traveler Loop (although that does look appealing for another time, it does Not look fun in peak black fly season) so there was no real point in leaving early.

North Traveler stands 3144' tall, which some will regard as an insignificant bump, and others will regard as the tallest mountain in Maine that's north of Katahdin. The distance to the summit is about 2.9 miles from the campground, making for a round trip of roughly 5.8 miles.

The sun was shining. The army of black flies stood at attention, ready to attack the moment we left the safety of our bunkhouse.

The trail rises beautifully through mostly deciduous forest, shaded at first but becoming more open, rockier, and steeper before we'd gone even a mile.

By the time we'd reached the first open ledges and gotten our first view of the pond, I was already sweaty and reaching for a rain shell (alas) (for bug protection), a bug net, (alas, ditto) more bug dope, a sip of water, and....drat, i forgot to use sunblock! Curses... The trail remained mostly open and roughly followed a ridge over several false-summit-like spots. The sun's heat began to bake my face and the feral sweaty mountain beast within my (black) rainshell.

Views of the Lower South Branch Pond, and then, as we climbed, of both Lower and Upper SB Ponds, were breathtaking. Views to the north included the unique cliffed flanks of Barrel Ridge. To the east and South, South Traveler and its partially bald neighbors stood punctuated by the drop-off Western face of Peak of The Ridges.

If anyone has any doubts about whether to hike in this area, by all means, do it. Pack responsibly for exposed terrain, don't do it when there could be lightning, and plan to take as much time as you need to travel safely (because a rescue on this peak would be a total drag) (and a bumpy one at that)...

It's not particularly challenging but there are frequent ankle-twisting opportunities among areas of loose talus. But indeed, go do it! It is a special place with unique, spectacular views of truly remote, relatively untouched areas.

My struggle with this climb was only the result of sleep deprivation plus a guest appearance by my notorious hiking headache. This, plus constant assault by black flies, made the trip a bit more difficult than it should have been. In my moments of distress, I focused on the bliss of being in a gorgeous area, doing exactly what I wanted to be doing...and everything was okay -- at no point was there any other place I'd rather be.

Eventually, the trail wove in and out of patches of forest and openness, and we began wondering if we were at the summit. The trail went up and down a bit and through some dreamy alpine meadows with magnificent wildflowers and rocky paths leading to and fro.

Finally, fading a bit from the lovely midday sun, we were about to enter another scrubby-forested area when we noticed it had an awful lot of bee-type insects buzzing around. My normally unstoppable partner paused, and though he didn't bring it up, I suddenly remembered he is allergic to bees! I suggested that I was ready for a snack, moved back out of the forest/bee-zone, plunked down, and attempted to eat while wearing a bug net. All I have to say about this is a) it was a bit more trouble than it was worth and b) never, ever take for granted a brisk breeze.

At approximately mid-bagel-o'clock, as we sat wondering what lay ahead, and where we were in relation to it, a trail crew emerged from the path ahead of us. Again we'd seen no other hikers all day, so we took the opportunity to ask them if the summit was nearby. We were extremely close, they said, and thanked us for the ride we'd given them last night. (What are the chances?! Baxter's a big park with a lot of trails... pretty cool to see them again like that.)

I confirmed with my companion that he had an epi-pen and then led the way into bee-zone. He followed, and, fortunately for all of us, the bees seemed more intent on buzzing than on terrorizing. In minutes, we emerged on a spacious summit with a big wooden summit sign on the middle.

The views all along almost the entire hike were fabulous. And here, at the top, they were even better.

The sun was warm and beautiful, mountains rose all around us beyond dramatic valleys, and the silence was pristine. We soaked it all in thoroughly.

If the the slight breeze had been a black-fly-slaughtering gale, why then I think it would have been completely perfect.

Still, as it was, it was pretty damn close.

We took our time climbing down the steep and ankle-hungry rhyolite, but not too much time because resting attracted more insect swarms. At one point, DEA stopped to reapply 100% DEET to his hat and somehow managed to spray is directly into his eyeball from about 6 inches away. I was ready to empty a nalgene into his empty smoking eye socket, but amazingly we didn't have to go this route. I had assumed 100% DEET melts eyeballs; I was wrong. Hurrah! The eye was fine in minutes and back to normal within an hour or two.

Woodpecker wonderland. Ornithologists would love this place.

Maine - Baxter State Park - The Owl 3736'- June 14, 2011

2011-06-21T22:18:00.014-04:00

Peak: The Owl
Place: Baxter State Park, ME. North of Millinocket, next to Katahdin.
Trail: Hunt Trail/AT to Owl Trail, out-and-back. Trailhead at Katahdin Stream Campground
Distance: ~6.6 miles
Pace: moderately slow (roughly "book time")
Time - *need to double check this.

Our reservations were for South Branch campground, which is way up in the northern end of Baxter. Since we were entering through the South Gate, we decided to hike something in the south on our first day, and then drive the rest of the the way in the evening to split up the drive.

Based on a combination of recommendations, guidebooks, and locale, we decided to climb Katahdin's little sibling, The Owl. Or rather, I decided. David had been to Baxter at summer camp as a kid, but that was (roughly) several years ago. He'd thus granted me total control of our itinerary. (The end result was apt to be somewhere between setting a kid loose in a candy shop and setting a bull loose in a china shop. But I digress...)

We entered the park and were treated to immediate views of Katahdin, in all it's glory. David, starry-eyed, asked if we ought to do it. I said that we could, but that I'd already done it a bunch of times, and that I also sort of hoped to warm up on something a little shorter - we had four days of hiking ahead of us, and though we'd both done significant conditioning, neither of us had done any full day hikes yet this season. Being unable to walk* after day one would be most inconvenient.

(* = The one time that I climbed Katahdin without doing some conditioning beforehand, let me just say that I paid dearly afterwards. Maybe other, more spry folks can do it -- but me, I almost needed an escalator do get down the stairs to my apartment...for like a week. Fail!)

As we progressed along the lower/middle parts of the Owl trail, we saw a number of granite steps that had clearly been drilled/altered/blasted(?) at some point. The logistic for this must have been a handful...

I'd been hoping for a long time to check out The Owl, which is known for having spectacular 360 degree views. Katahdin's shorter neighbor, is features plenty of interesting cliffs and engaging terrain, but is only about a 6.6 mile round trip.

The forecast was also for a 50% chance of rain, which added on to the list of why it wasn't the best day to do Katahdin, which is very exposed higher up. Owl is fairly sheltered right up until the last half mile or so, and even then there is still some stunted tree growth. Just right.

In spite of the light rain that was beginning to fall, I was hopeful that we might get some views. We decided we'd have better chances of sun if we used pack covers, so on they went right away.

After a flat mile on Hunt Trail, we veered left onto the Owl Trail, and the climb began. Blueberry bushes, though still several weeks away from coming to fruit, were endless! Lots of wintergreen grew where ever the blueberries did. (New ice cream flavor, anyone? Blueberry wintergreen? Tubby's? Gifford's?) And, every so often, a white or pick lady's slipper (or several!) appeared as well.

The climbing toward the summit was pretty steep and we made our way slowly. The drizzle had stopped long ago but the sun was still not really out, so the temperature remained very comfortable and we were most grateful.

Anyone have any idea what this thing is? Looked like perhaps a part of a skull, or something left behind in an owl pellet, or both.

The steep cliffs and summit area were at times visible up ahead, though for the most part we were forested in. It was very quiet and saw no other hikers all day. Even the deer and moose tracks/scat were rather far between. The trail was in excellent shape, definitely not suffering from the wear common on most of Katahdin's trails.

As the guidebook had promised, the steep ravine area eventually gave way to openness near the summit. There were a few minor scramble areas to negotiate but nothing overwhelming. We did, however, wonder a few times if we were on the trail, since the blazing up there was minimal. Fortunately there weren't really many feasible route options possible without climbing gear; this realization soothed out concerns sufficiently and we continued somewhat haplessly onward.

And then -- suddenly, sort of -- after only 3.3 miles, we reached the summit. The sky was still overcast but we were not clouded in, and as promised we enjoyed outstanding views of Katahdin's majestic crags, ridges and ravines. It had turned out to be a perfect warm up hike.

We wandered around the small wanderable area around the summit to seek blazes and other routes, just in case we'd somehow missed something, but none were apparent. After a snack and plenty of elated ooohs and aaahs, we assumed the descent.

Another nice thing about shorter hikes, like this one, is that the descent doesn't go on forever and make you feel like you've got pebbles in your knees. We also enjoyed the varied footing, which was not all slab and ledge, and therefor quite a pleasant trek.

We had still not seen a single other hiker on The Owl all day, though we did see a few specks on Katahdin, just barely visible from the summit. When we reached the Hunt Trail trailhead register, our observations (or lack thereof) were confirmed. No one else climbed the beautiful Owl all day. It seems like such a waste for more people not to be out climbing it!

Maine - Baxter State Park - Canoeing in South Branch Ponds plus a few short hikes - June 17, 2011

2011-06-21T21:39:00.014-04:00

On the third day of a four day stay in Baxter State Park, I was not feeling up to another full day of steepness and black fly combat, but I was feeling very ready to spend some time in a canoe. This was another reason why I'd wanted to stay at South Branch, since I hadn't canoed or even been up there before.

We began at Lower South Branch Pond (which is actually north of Upper South Branch Pond, due to the direction the water flows) and skirted the perimeter. We had planned to canoe a mile out to Howe Brook Trail's beginning and hike up to a waterfall at the end.

The bugs were pretty awful, swarming and getting under my headnet and chewing at me. The views were breathtaking, though, and far, far outweighed the discomfort - which is saying something! For some reason, or maybe no reason, we decided to skip the walk and do a short portage over to the other SB Pond and check that out.

The scenery in the Upper SB Pond was even better. We especially loved all the the cliffs and the swooping figure of Peak Of the Ridges. None of the photos really do the area justice. Katahdin's silhouette in the distance was a nice touch.

We made out way back at a very leisurely pace with bursts of speed only when the bugs got bad again. (...Which was sort of often, but we survived!) And we were only about half a mile from shore when a single cloud arrived from the northwest. Sure enough, thunder began to grumble toward us and a few more clouds arrived and stacked as we put away the boat.

We headed back to the bunkhouse for a few minutes of quiet time and bug respite and possibly to wait out a storm. There was some breeze and rumbling but it wasn't actually even raining, so we decided to do a few trails that were sheltered enough and short enough to be safe (and that my still rather tired body would agree to).

First Lake campsite is the first one you come to if you enter the park through the North Gate, in its northeast corner. Most (wisely) enter from the south, but the North is worth the trip if you have time. The path to First Lake campsite is roughly 0.5 miles each way and is basically a wide, grassy, overgrown route that used to be a road. I'm not sure what it looks like later in the season, but it didn't look at all heavily used (or even used at ALL) when I was there. It ends at a campsite or two right on the unspoiled Matagomon Lake.

As far as one could see, the lake was quite untouched - no cabins, no boats, etc. Very wilderness-y and wonderful.

Next stop, South Branch Falls. Half a mile each way, this was a lovely stroll to a charming area that could be described as something between rapids and small waterfalls. Thunder grumbled in the distance so we didn't hang around too long - just long enough to get a few pics.

We'd also passed a trail sign that said Ledges Overlook, and it as well was only about 0.5 mile each way. The thunder wasn't getting any closer, and it was barely sprinkling, so we scampered up the path to end up at a pretty cool ledge. Took our pics and headed back down.

It's great to have these short little paths available for days such as this when you aren't up for a full day commitment, but you still want to be out playing. Nothing really could compare to the views of the two previous days, which I hope and think we'll both remember forever. Still, I enjoyed these three short trails as well in a different way. Things don't have to be difficult to be beautiful, after all.

In the evening, I went alone to the shore of South Branch Pond. The storm had basically avoided us, but it's wake produced a mighty wind. I stood, bug-net-less at last, feeling amazing and free, as the gusts tore through my thoughts and mixed with my gaze. The roar of wind and solitude seemed to cascade from the sharply angled mountains surrounding the lake, as if it was something I personally could answer by simply being there below them.

what is trek for peace?

2011-05-07T16:10:00.000-04:00

Staunton, Virginia

Appalachian Trail butterfly, Cherokee National Forest, Tennessee/North Carolina border area

Snowshoeing on North Haven Island, off the coast of Maine.

what is trek for peace?

2010-10-23T17:14:00.003-04:00

trek for peace is being where you are. here is voorheesville ny as seen from behind a waterfall, which is where i am.

Mt. Chocorua and The Three Sisters - September 29, 2010

2010-09-30T01:03:00.019-04:00

The quick rundown...

Start/Finish: Near White Ledge Campground, just out of Conway, New Hampshire.

Trails: Piper -> Mt Chocurua Summit (3490') -> Middle Sister -> Carter Ledge -> Nickerson Ledge -> Piper.

Start: 11:22am

Finish: 6pm

Pace: Moderate

Distance: Very roughly 10 miles - was not using GPS and maps had varying opinions.

Weather: Brilliant. Perfect. Comfortable.

Midweek, at the height of foliage season, we expected crowds -- even hiking from the less-popular side of the glorious Mount Chocorua. Only one other car was in the lot with us, and throughout the day, we encountered only a few other parties. We saw no one at all on the descent, though maybe because most people know better than to go down the way we did...

The Piper Trail is wide and the terrain is gently sloping for quite a while.

Autumn color was probably a week away from peak...and very lovely.

I was not able to hike much last autumn and was glad to finally be able to soak in some color.

My friends Chris and James hiked up ahead, and Rob hiked with me for a while before going off to join them. (You've seen Chris here before. All three are currently on tour promoting new albums. Check out the links!)

Having told Rob to go on ahead, I was soon alone, which was okay as I was already slowed up by my signature hiking headache. Less okay, was that the trail split!

Now. Since I had been appointed trail decision maker, I'd spent the last day studying maps and trying to decide where to hike, and how to hike it. Attempts at receiving input from my companions were fruitless! So, noting that among us was some non-granite-proof footwear, I decided it would be best for the knees of the group to go up the steep way, and down the sloping way.

(See all that ledge in the pic above? We were supposed to come up there, and then walk up the ridge that slopes upward toward the left of the pic.)

When I realized they had hiked right on by the turn off (the one leading to the steeper Carter Ledge trail), part of me wanted to just go up, my way, alone, and meet them in the evening back at the car. (I think I might hike alone too much...) Feeling like an asshole, I told myself to shape the fuck up, took a bunch of ibuprofen, and followed their lead.

A while later, there was Chris, and we walked together a bit, discussing normal hiker topics, such as finding dismembered body parts on the trail...how did this come up? No idea, but that was the topic when Suddenly James and Rob leaped out at us from behind some birch trees. Apparently being slender does have its advantages -- you never know when you need to hide behind a birch tree...?

We began to encounter some steepness and the trees got shorter. The summit came into view.

I was beginning to feel like a person again. We reached a sign saying we could go right, over The Sisters (as shown in the pic above) or go left, an extra total of about 1.4 miles, and be on the summit of Chocorua.

I was hesitant to press my luck, not wanting to ruin my currently okay noggin...but the summit looked amazing, all boulders and sunshine. I felt the unmistakable draw of summit fever setting in. Rob was also afflicted. "I'll go with you," he said.

Chris and James didn't feel like making the extra trip and kindly offered to take our packs and go wait on Middle Sister, a bit further along. Rob and I were officially free to slackpack.

...And it was incredible. The summit is about 3,490 feet (1,064 m). Though over 2,700' shorter than Mount Washington, guidebooks still list this hike as "strenuous" due to lower starting elevations of the trailheads, and due to equally wild terrain.

Rob surveys the amazingness.

And how lucky we are to have it mostly to ourselves! Just the negligible noise of a slight breeze.

Colors and shapes exist here that can't be found anywhere else.

There was lots of stuff to scramble up/around/over. The blazes were quite worn so we were off the official trail a few times. That area way on the right is Middle Sister (I think) where Chris and James were waiting for us.

There was a good bit of pink granite, sort of like the stuff found in Acadia in Maine.

Lovely licheny ledges.

View to the west, roughly.

We used that curved granite path in the center as a landmark that would lead us back to where the trail enters the woods.

About 40 minutes later, we were back to where we'd split up with our companions.

We began to make our way across the Sisters. I wasn't sure exactly where each one was, just that we were passing over three of them.

Looking back, there was another wonderful view of the summit.

The colors up here don't translate well with my lack of skill/lack of good equipment, but they were deep, bold, and full of silence.

We reunited and continued onward.

The wind has picked up a bit, as adroitly demonstrated by this rain-pool.

One of the sisters had perched upon her this mysterious stone structure. Later research determines that it is a foundation of what used to be a fire tower.

More dreamy colors and shapes...

The trail became increasingly difficult to follow and very steep. Many a murmur of "is this even the trail?" arose. We were a bit concerned we had missed an important cutoff, but this lovely sign told us otherwise, at long (long, slow, steep) last.

The poorly marked terrain and treachery would continue for the next several miles. Blazes were almost non-existent. The few times we were on dirt and not granite, I noted the worn ares on the tree roots. Hiking boots cause that. We were, at least, on the right trail.

I have very few pics of the many steep ledgey areas; this was a shadier section and the rocks were often wet. All limbs were otherwise occupied.

Here is Chris and the sinking sun. We finally emerge for a temporary respite on what I think is Whites Ledges.

Colors, colors, colors... back into the woods we go. Some of my cohorts legs were visibly shaking in front of me. Murmurs regarding these were now added to the "is this the trail?" murmurs. I am so glad I live in a place where we have all hills, all the time. How would one condition oneself in the flatlands?

We weren't in a huge rush, but lowering light caused us to want to press onward steadily.

At one point, James, who had never even been on a mountain, and who led effortlessly all day, led us accidentally off the trail and down a scree slide that was at least 45 degrees in slope.

My three friends were partly down when I arrived, strewn across it clinging to bits of vegetation. And I was just starting down after them when James, upon reaching the bottom, called up that there wasn't a trail down there! I called back down to wait, and I that I was going to backtrack.

I struggled up, and in a few minutes, found the remnants of an ancient blaze. "Can you make it over this way?" I hollered over to their general direction. Eventually, Rob appeared from above, Chris from the right, and James from below.

Finally, and not until they absolutely had to, things flattened out bit and we were able to hasten toward the trailhead.

I never like the moment when, after hours of quiet, I hear the first roar of a distant truck. There is plenty of sweetness to focus on, though. Having spent the afternoon on a sweet mountain, for one.

what is trek for peace?

2010-09-19T01:00:00.000-04:00

good question. maybe you tell me this time?

Several ramblings...

2010-09-15T00:10:00.000-04:00

A lack of escape has caused lots of scampering about on the smaller hills. Recently I've been enjoying/using them in order to stay ready for larger hills, should I be able to get away on short notice.

As we all know too well, but camera skills are pretty shaky, but a few of these came out not totally void of character...

Teatown Lake Reservation in Ossining, NY:
Several miles of tame, pleasant meandering. I was there during a drought so the scenery was a bit parched.

Beech Mountain, Acadia National Park, Maine:
Some friends showed me this sweet little peak and I really enjoyed it. It's 839' and there's a very roughly 5k loop with a trailhead at Echo Lake. Perfect for a quick trip when you need to wake up your climbing muscles and experience some great ocean views.

Lots of work was being done on the trail and it's loaded with new and in-progress stone steps. Sometimes it's nice for a trail to be a little challenging but not terribly treacherous.

Mt. Battie, Camden, Maine:
I may have said all I can say about Mt. Battie. I've been climbing it ever since I was a little kid and return there every chance I get -- about every few weeks as long as there's no ice. These are from a few different sunset hikes.

Ooops, sunset comes too early these days... This is what the trail looks like after dark, with a Black Diamond Spot headlamp.

Mt Pisgah, Winthrop, Maine:
At roughly 807', it's another under-appreciated asset to anyone's conditioning/sunset watching program. Keep moving and you'll easily be up and down in 30 minutes. The first 1/3 is a little steep but the whole thing is pretty nice for running as well as walking.

what is trek for peace?

2010-08-12T23:56:00.004-04:00

tablelands, hunt trail, mount katahdin 5260', maine, usa.

trek for peace is where i take time to stop and direct my attention toward certain people, places, situations, etc. perhaps you do, as well.

for many, the hardship in pakistan was unimaginable before the crazy flooding displaced millions of people. if you are reading this, chances are you cannot even begin to imagine what it's like. or maybe you can. i know i can't.

from greg mortenson's twitter on august 9, 2010:
"UN estimates 13.8 million affected by Pakistan floods, more than total affected by 2004 Tsunami + 2005 Azad Kashmir + 2010 Haiti quakes."

how can we help?

whoever and where ever you are, the heart and mind of trek for peace is directed at You.

Austin Brook Trail to Gentian Pond - July 17, 2010

2010-07-25T23:59:00.014-04:00

I didn't know anything about the Austin Brook Trail except that it was a relatively direct route to Gentian Pond, a favorite point on the Appalachian Trial near the Maine/New Hampshire border. Figured I'd give it a go.

It started off on a path the looked like it had once been a logging road, and then became a normal wooded path for a bit. I paused to apply bug dope, which I promptly sweated off.

Soon, Austin Brook Trail became Austin Brook logging road, for real.

I continued as briskly as I could along the hot, dusty, sunny, dry road. Crossed a stream on this here bridge which was in startlingly good condition. I wondered if people actually use this road for anything? I pictured bears in golf carts...

This stream was the only thing of interest as the road wore on and on. It wasn't more than a few miles, but we delicate sylvan folk are sensitive to the scorching sun. It makes us whinge.

At last! I was elated to be on an actual trail again. This was a nicer bit. There were many bog bridges and less-charming areas; it has been a pretty dry summer but I bet this place hosts serious mud in wetter times.

The blessed shade did keep some areas damp enough for some lovely mushrooms to arise.

I once made a vegan powerpancake that looked very much like this shroom....

Did I mention it was insanely hot and humid? This pic is for the doubters.

These bridges were kind of neat, and right next to a massive beaver dam. I never photograph beaver dams because I am a Mainer and they just look like burn piles to me. The kind of thing you'd find out back behind someone's barn with brush, leaves and lawn trimmings, a couch, half a car...

This is one of the first times you can see the cliffs too. (Baldcap 3065', I think?)

My favorite section of the trail is around here. My camera has been stuck in under-expose mode for a while, hence this whole trip is a little dark-looking. You'll just have to hike it yourself to get the proper experience.

More lovely terrain. Roots...

Softness...

Boulders...

Hmm, lots of steep boulders...

Now we're cooking! It actually got quite steep for a bit after this part.

It was somewhere before the climbing started when I became convinced I was lost. There were confusing blazes and I wasn't really sure what was going on. I didn't seem to be getting closer to the cliffs, which I knew were near my target.

Finally I just decided that I was going to climb these bitches for a while anyway, heat, humidity and trail be damned.

Eventually I came upon my target -- I had not been lost. Just impatient.

I hung out in the shelter for a bit, thinking about the seven thousand sleeping mice within who were just waiting for dusk and a chance to go grocery shopping in anyone's backpacks. And thinking about Wicked, Birdman, Birdlegs, and Lifesaver, with whom I once benighted here in September 2007. (That was yesterday, right?)

A couple of Appalachian Trail hikers, some sectioners and at least one thru-hiker, were around, drying out gear and each asking me if I knew anything about local water sources.

No one wanted to drink from the murky pond, though the edge of it, where it is running, doesn't look too repulsive. I was sorry to have to tell them that a) I couldn't remember precisely where the water sources were and b) what I did remember was that they were about to walk on roughly 10 miles of high ridge-y stuff. There are not a lot of options on the AT in the southern Mahoosucs, but I don't know of anyone who's died of thirst there, yet.

This frog didn't seem to mind the funky brown water or the hiker paparazzi.

I am severely in love with the steep granite across the Pond; I had to go toward it.

...And attempt to photograph it from the inside.

Eventually, it was time to retrace my 3.5 miles of steps.

The descent would have been fairly swift, if the mushrooms hadn't been so fascinating.

I rather like how this one somehow looks as if it's in motion.

I'd not taken many photos of the many boggy areas on the way up. There!

These were tiny and awesome.

These were also tiny and not half as profane in real life.

How could I resist staring at these other-worldly beings?

Even with the dark pics, these still look pretty bright. These were roughly hand-sized.

More...

When I was last in this area, I camped at Dream Lake. There's a reason it's called that. If I'd had a little more time and it was not a million and twelve degrees, I'd have gone back for a visit.

As the trail dragged along, so must I drag you along through a small fraction of my apparent mushroom fetish, which I fully deny and entirely blame on this being a relatively viewless hike.

Only a bit more dappled-light and woods remains before I am back on the still bland, still hot, still dusty logging road.

Also, along the side of the road were meadows. Teeming with variegations of wildflower and butterfly color, I was sure they were great spots for people to go bear watching. Or for bears to go people watching. I maintained a slightly paranoid mentality.

This hike was a bit over 7 miles and was an fairly tame half-day trip. I didn't see a single other person except at the Shelter.

Gentian Pond - July 2010

2010-07-19T23:51:00.002-04:00

Old Speck - Maine - 6/21/10

2010-07-06T11:00:00.002-04:00

I am slowly beginning to lose count of the times I've climbed Old Speck. I think this is number 4. As is often the case, I took the white-blazed Old Speck Trail, which is also the Appalachian Trail and the Grafton Loop Trail.

Fungus of various shape and size neighbored in this ex-tree.

A White Admiral emerges from its chrysalis and dries its wings. It's been a great summer for butterflies. Pity they don't usually sit still long enough for a portrait.

A trickling waterfall accompanies the lower section of the trail is it begins to climb.

Lichen!

Moss!

Lichen and moss!

There are a couple of spots on Speck where you can almost always find Gray Jays, and this is because Gray Jays really love gorp.

The rocks and steepness are fairly consistent throughout the middle section of the trail. Never monotonous, though -- there are some interesting viewpoints and the forest scenery keeps changing.

Just below the summit spur trail, things open up to the first real views. Those are the Baldpates in the center. I believe this shot was taken from atop the firetower actually. Climbing the ladder is not recommended for those with a fear of heights!

This is my favorite bit. Here, the trail briefly hugs a damp, moss-covered vertical ledge. It's right before the summit spur (and Grafton Loop) goes off to the left and Speck Pond trail (AT) goes off to the right.

I didn't take pics of the summit since I don't find it too picturesque between the clearcut and the fire tower. The view of the Baldpates, and everything else, is excellent though. These last two are from about half a mile beyond the summit, down the Old Speck Trail (AT). DEA included in this pic to show scale!

It's about 7.2 miles if you do the summit trail and include the short jaunt to the western face.

what is trek for peace?

2010-07-01T10:25:00.001-04:00

What is Trek for Peace? Are you tired of me asking this yet?

Let me ask the same sentiment with a different spin:

Are you upset about schools being burned, teachers being murdered, children never having the opportunity to learn to read, etc? These things and worse continue to happen every day in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

With limited resources, time, and skills, most of us can't engage these issues (and these people) face to face. However, the most effective way is often unclear anyway -- do you meet violence with violence? How do you keep schools safe in a place that simply isn't that safe?

There are other things we can engage, though, which leads us to the next question:
Are you okay with development being stalled by deeply rooted but baseless traditions and habits? Is there a way to keep these (the harmful/useless ones) from being ingrained into the next generations? Old habits and traditions are sometimes impossible to surmount.

In Greg Mortenson's newest book, Stones into Schools, there's a section about a girl who desperately wishes to become a doctor. She graduates from high school with flying colors and then gets a scholarship (through Central Asia Institute) to continue her studies and it is the greatest day of her life -- it is the direct route to her dream.

But one of her older male relatives says no. When this happens, little can be done. Folks from CAI exhausted all possibilities in trying to tactfully convince him that a change of mind would bring much positivity.

His reasons remained shifty. In the end, he was unable to grasp the significance of another person's aspirations. He simply wouldn't allow her to accept the scholarship and that was that. Unyielding patriarchy had apparently worked well for him for a long time, and the fact that it crushed others somehow didn't register.

Was this because he, himself, had lacked an education? Maybe he'd never been taught to see different perspectives? Who knows? When his wife goes into a difficult labor, I wonder if he'll be wishing then that there was a doctor in the family...

We have to keep talking about this. What can we do but keep working toward expanding the reach and density of the school systems in remote, educationally-starved areas? Lack of perspective will squelch development. Let the frustration feed your Trek.

Photo from July 2010 on a very sunny un-hike in Rockland, Maine.

Ragged Mountain amblings on 3/18/2010 and 5/16/2010

2010-05-18T14:09:00.003-04:00

Ragged Mountain in Rockport, Maine is close enough that I can get out there for some conditioning with some regularity. I actually like the scrambley vibe of Battie (nearby) better, but Battie is of course almost too tiny to be considered a significant hike (assuming one is rating significance by size) (which I am not sure that I do).

Ragged, on the other hand, can take a few hours.

In fact, it can take longer, since the trail keeps going past the summit -- I've not yet explored this far.

The summit was guarded by some sort of fierce/fluffy Goldendoodle thing.

Those were all from drab March. Here's a shot from May 17. Don't you want to just leap into those soft green leaves?

I also got the urge to chuck cell phone, gps, and various other things, people, and stuff over the eastern cliff areas. Instead, I hung out for a bit and then trotted/ambled down. I'd set out with the intention of running a good part of the trail both ways, knowing the terrain is barely amenable to such pursuits. Indeed there were not many places one can run with any rhythm -- too rocky and lumpy. Pretty sweet at a walk though.

winter, spring...

2010-05-18T13:50:00.005-04:00

Winter in Maine came and went in the most peculiar way. Here in the valley, it just sort of stopped before February happened. The mountains got snow well into April though as usual; apparently as I type this in mid-May, Old Speck still has a good bit.

This winter, I discovered the joys of Microspikes. I spent a few hours confidently strolling across huge swaths of ice on Kearsarge North in February, just south of the Presidentials, north of North Conway, NH.

I enjoyed the icicles, the ice underfoot, and the awesome gripping power of Microspikes. What did we ever do before these?! I might have a new favorite bit of gear.

Mt. Battie - December 4, 2009

2009-12-06T20:34:00.005-05:00

A beautiful sunset hike on tiny but rugged Mount Battie in Camden, Maine, was the perfect little December experience.

I just realized that I have only have climbed it 5 times this year! I usually get out there much more than that.

Subtle sunset, probably over Ragged and Bald mountains.

Battie has a really cool tower. Most towers don't impress, but Battie's looks like a castle. In this country, this is about as close as we'll get to a castle, so we'll take it.

The tower is also currently decked out with a MASSIVE light-up star. Maybe 4 or 5 meters tall? Just huge, and all bolted in place on top of the tower. Must be something to do with some sort of holiday thing. It's visible from all over town and maybe even off in the Fox islands. Definitely not what you expect to find on a mountain, but it's Battie, and it even has an auto road, so I suppose anything goes.

...But the natural light was far more alluring.

I love the late-season colors. Bold and dark and dead and crunchy.

The actual colors were scared off by my poor camera-skills, but they were really understated and lovely. Sunset hikes are the best, though sunrise hikes are also the best. Battie is the only mountain on which I've seen both.

It's only a half mile each way, but there are several places where the trail becomes a hand-over-hand experience. Still, it's probably one of the world's most hiked mountains. Definitely Maine's most popular. It is really perfect for when the big hills are too much or too far.

suddenly almost winter...

2009-11-25T14:34:00.006-05:00

Leafy mossy amble up Ragged Mountain in Rockport, ME - October 12, 2009.

Trek For Peace lives!

I hear about Pakistan on the news every day now. To me, it sounds like there is a lot of confusion, a lot of violence, a lot of people still not understanding the whole story. I'm glad to have at least the Mortenson/Relin version of the area's recent history. (update 2011: putting the "story" back in history....but you can read about that on a news blog, i'm not going to get too into it here.)

"The only way to fight violence is with schools, education, food, understanding."
- Manu Chao

....update....

2009-09-16T21:56:00.004-04:00

i will return to this project as soon as i am able.
thanks to everyone for all the support. until i'm back in action, go hike somewhere wonderful for me and post or send many pics!

Hedgehog Mountain - Aug 14, 2009

2009-08-24T13:19:00.013-04:00

I stared up at the formidable Hancock mountains and observed the perfectly sunny day that was mine to enjoy. I'd planned to climb both of them, but my health was still shaky and I was quite alone.

I was somewhat disappointed, but my trusty Jeff Romano guidebook listed the nearby Hedgehog Mountain as being not only a bit more tame, but also one of the most underrated and overlooked.

I kept a gentle pace and saw no people for quite a while.

The solitude was indeed absolute bliss after my previous noisy Osceola experience.

I could have taken mushroom pics all day. These were some of my favorites.

The terrain was quite low-key at first, eventually turning mostly into roots. Lots and lots of roots.

A few more rocks, ups and downs, and even some views as I got a bit higher...

A red harbinger rested on a massive bit of glacial debris.

There was a perfect view of these cliffs with a name I can't recall, deep in the heart of the Pemi Wilderness.

The summit was quite ledgey and presented a nice snack of blueberries. Lovely views of Passaconaway were soon apparent.

I saw a few people, mostly families or camper groups full of kiddos. Most wanted to know if there were near the top. I contemplated always saying yes, since it's a pretty small mountain.

How many of these will I someday hike? When will I see them again from this point of view?

Interesting cliffs and a nice open forest came along after the summit.

If I'd felt a little more vibrant, I'd have had to go play on the wild boulder formations.

From silence, suddenly erupted wails of agony... I descended, rounding a corner, and came upon a family centralized on an extremely unhappy child.

"Watch out for the bee's nest on the log by the little stream," her father said as I approached. "It's on the left side," he added, trying to console his daughter.

Thankfully I was carrying some Benadryl in my trusty Ziploc bag of first aid stuff, and had plenty to share. Hopefully it was able to provide some relief.

The trail was pretty quiet after that. I was glad to have been able to give some trail magic but concerned that the girl was going to hate hiking now! Oh, the many things one can worry about...

I was still overtired and my mind was unraveling in abstractions and tangents. So much of hiking is based on chance. I am only on Hedgehog because I didn't feel well enough to scale something larger, by chance. I forgot my trekking poles, by chance. I packed Benadryl, by chance. I came upon a kid with a bee sting, by chance. If I'd been elsewhere, by chance, I couldn't have helped out....

If the girl hadn't been stung, and the man had chosen to leave his kid home playing video games, maybe I'd be full of bee stings right now, I thought to myself. Who knows!?

Amid all this, I arrived at an unmarked intersection on the trail. I studied the map for a while.

I went a little bit in one direction, changed my mind, went back to the intersection, and picked another way. Did I mention I'm somewhat dyslexic about left and right?

Fortunately, I could hear the traffic of the highway in the distance. I decided to go toward that, since ending up on the Kanc is better than ending up NOWHERE without overnight gear.

I jogged a bit, and thankfully the highway appeared in a non-threatening amount of time. I turned back to the direction my car most likely was, and jogged along the road toward it.

The end of the hike was so flat that I fantasized about bringing my horse out here for a lively trail ride on the level footing. (I didn't take any pics during the very last parts. These are from a bit higher up.)

This lichen-mushroom stuff was amazing, but sadly I couldn't get a decent shot.

It was refreshing not to hear silly "peak-bagging" talk all day. And to see families with (mostly) happy kids. And no crowds... and lots of blueberries...

Hedgehog is the perfect place for people just getting into the sport. And also just rather perfect, period. I'll be glad to return sometime.

Osceola and East Osceola - Aug 13, 2009

2009-08-21T11:59:00.013-04:00

The forecast was for sun. There was a bit coming through these trees, fortunately staying around long enough for a pic.

Tiny brooks and a flat section were followed by -- guess what -- a steep, rocky section!

It seemed to go on for while. In fact, now that you mention it, it was a difficult hike for a number of reasons.

The trail itself would have been a piece of cake. Short (less than 4 miles to the summit) and as gentle as any trail in the Whites could be. I almost felt like I was cheating.

The trail had some junk left on it -- banana peel, steaming turd of human, a food wrapper, some poorly hidden TP, and my favorite, the partially shredded plaid boxers hanging from a tree.

Just not going to ask...

This seems like a good time to bring up the only rules I have ever followed in my life: Leave No Trace.

I was leapfrogging all day with several folks and I began to yearn for solitude. Lots of peakbaggers were out, and I kept hearing how someone was only climbing this because they need to bag it for their list. Whatever happened to just hiking for the love of hiking?! I grumped to myself, overly righteous and sleep-deprived. Rawr.

When I'm in a better mood, lists are totally fine, especially if they bring you some sort of satisfaction or peace. On some days, even I've got a list in mind, too...but not at the expense of presence.

Near the summit of East Osceola, minimal views through the trees were obscured by that sunny forecast that strangely resembled clouds.

Did I mention being sleep deprived? I love how this pic makes me look like a heroin addict. I'd slept somewhere with some crazy chemical air-freshener thing, and on a pillowcase that had been washed in what must have been radioactive detergent. One minor allergic reaction later, and one fleece jacket over the pillow, and one re-location of the air-stankifier, I managed a couple of hours of sleep.

A couple of views beg to open up between summits.

Yeah, so about that sun... the part you CAN see, on the right, is the ridge I'm about to hike up to the Osceola (4340') summit.

I'll take any view I can get...

This log person demonstrates sort of how I felt when inhaling drugged pillowcase. Raise your hand if you see the similarities:

Finally, I heard a flock of people, and then saw ahead the Osceola summit....and not a whole heck of a lot else.

I sat for a while and clouds occasionally parted enough for me to see some of the nearby hills.

Whenever any views at all opened up, the folks on the summit would rush into configurations and try to snap photos before everything disappeared. Below, you can see the ridge that the trail follows.

A summit marker and I had a snack together.

This appears to be the Arrow Slide on the Tripyramids.

Onward! Cool climby sections never look as cool in photos.

Heading back from Osceola, the trail again alternated flatness with a few spots of steepness, plus a really cool chimney that looked quite climbable...So did the brightly blazed side path around it.

They were very cool though, and I paused to appreciate even in my regrettable condition.

Someone navigates the chimney from the side here. Of all the people I did see upon it, I didn't see anyone go straight up.

Again, I was able to encounter a few interesting views between summits.

I always like to see the shape of what I just walked. Hiking-wise, things rarely look how they feel or feel how they look.

I found a couple of viewpoints I'd missed on the way up, and caught the clouds being mischievous.

I decided to get distracted with fungi. I worked half-heartedly at trying to get mushroom pics to come out. More practice is in order...

I didn't even see this slide on the way up! It's just off the trail. Rumor has it that ice climbers sometimes frequent this area in the non-summer months.

Someday I'll get it, but not anytime soon. Oy. This one is just sad. As least my memories aren't blurry.

If I were a toad, I'd definitely live here. Looks like someone got hungry.

At long last, the footing leveled out and I returned my sluglike self to the Greeley Ponds Scenic Area trail.

Today's lessons:

1. If you're going to hike when you're not at your best, you're going to hike feeling like you're not at your best.

2. The mountains don't care, and are gorgeous and awesome every day, regardless of absolutely everything.

3. Don't shit on the trail. Do not do this.

4. Try to hang on to your semi-shredded plaid boxers.

"Bombed, burned or shut down..."

2009-08-16T10:59:00.002-04:00

https://www.ikat.org/2009/07/19/nytimes-jul-19-09/

"It is no accident, Mortenson noted, that since 2007, the Taliban and its allies have bombed, burned or shut down more than 640 schools in Afghanistan and 350 schools in Pakistan, of which about 80 percent are schools for girls...This is the real war of ideas. The Taliban want public mosques, not public schools. The Muslim militants recruit among the illiterate and impoverished in society, so the more of them the better, said Mortenson."

https://www.ikat.org/2009/07/19/nytimes-jul-19-09/

From the July 19, 2009 New York Times. Click the link above to read the article at the Central Asia Institute website. Then, tell someone.

what is trek for peace?

2009-08-11T18:05:00.002-04:00

trek for peace is about choosing to put your energy into stuff that increases the non-suck:suck ratio. there are all kinds of peaces toward which one can trek; my current choice may not be the same as yours, or it might be. chances are, i'd still walk with you either way and maybe we could learn from each other about why what is important, and to whom, and how we can combine energies...

progressive lovefests, visions, idealism, etc, all valid in their own right. historically, lots of cool stuff has come from crazy idealistic visions. we'll take 'em.

currently, my trek for peace is aimed toward raising awareness for the work or www.ikat.org. they're getting kids, male and female, into balanced educational systems, in nations where females are often not encouraged to go to school.

www.ikat.org is responsible for actually building the schools, ensuring teachers get paid, hooking them up with supplies, and so forth. amazing work.

gear.

2009-08-09T11:38:00.000-04:00

it's a good thing hiking is free, because good gear isn't.

here's a list of the junk i brought to Bold Coast, which was roughly 10.5 miles of non-mountainous hiking, divided over two days, and one night. on a short trip like this, it's a good opportunity to practice NOT getting into the "but i might want this..." mentality.

- the jansport pack
- trekking poles: leki enzian
- 20 degree sleeping bag (synthetic): ll bean climashield
- thermarest pad
- tent: big agnes seedhouse 1
- headlamp: black diamond

- smartwool socks (2 pairs)
- wool/fleece hat
- gore-tex rain/wind jacket
- thermal/wicking hoodie with thumb loops so most of the hands get covered
- microfleece shirt
- brushed underarmour baselayer pants
- nylon zip-off pants, didn't bring the legs.
- wicking/anti-microbial nylon tee shirt
- underarmour undies
- bra from here.
- salomon gore tex boots

- toothpaste and brush
- t.p.
- advil and benadryl.
- much food
- 3.5 liters of water
- notebook and pen
- rope to hang food at night
- small facecloth

what i'd bring next time:

- the legs to my zip off pants. bug protection.

- bug dope. yeah.

- if the forecast was anything more than chance of showers, i'd bring a pack cover or poncho. rain pants only if cold.

- if it was going to be hotter, or more strenuous climbing, i'd bring more water or a filter.

- stove - i'd wanted to bring it, but my pack is pretty small and it wouldn't fit! it's a jetboil, known for being big and heavy (relatively) but super fast and easy to use.

- i usually bring some duct tape, which is useful for everything from a punctured tent or torn clothing to blister treatment. i didn't bother this time, but should have.

all items should really have at least two uses. clothing is easy: it's all warmth and bug protection. a sleeping bag is, well, a sleeping bag, and it's also an overnight clothes dryer. we've already been over duct tape. the notebook can be part entertainment and part journal.

rope can be used for both bear-bagging and for lashing of gear to your pack; i am dork enough that i actually have a favorite rope which i use for gear, and a boring rope for bear-bags. it's a couple of ounces of extra weight and i don't choose to sweat it; some people do.

one other item, that i refer to as my contraband, is a small cottony face cloth that functions as a glamorous sweat mop. hey, whether you sweat like a pregnant mule or a french whore, it's nice to give yourself a snippet of luxury when on the trail.

what is trek for peace?

2009-08-08T11:32:00.000-04:00

trek for peace = RAISING AWARENESS for important stuff! at the moment, education for women in central asia is on my mind. www.ikat.org has more information.