Getting The Vibe at Mojo

This time of year, I can't help but think of the different places I've lived during Christmas time.

There's my hometown of Turner, ME. The mid-Atlantic town in Waynesboro, PA.
Presque Isle, ME...

I spent 2 years working for Mojo up in Aroostook County, and it changed hands twice during that time.

There were times when it seemed like everything was always up in the air when I worked there- it is a high end gear shop in an area where financially, things aren't always stellar- but there were a few things that always stayed the same.

The employees who believed in the place, and the customers who had faith in it.
Those people who "got it", as I liked to say, didn't think Mojo of as a store.
It was a platform for people to launch healthy lifestyles.
It was a meeting place for those like-minded individuals to grab a cup of coffee, socialize, and then head out for a bike, run, or ski. There was always an employee or regular customer there to get advice from on any sporting issue you could come up with.

The grumblers of Aroostook County didn't shop there or support the place. The grumblers didn't "get it".
They didn't take the time to go to any wax clinics, bike maintenance clinics, or running workshops.
They might come to our group rides to test if their phallic size had grown over the winter, only to find out that our group rides were only about social spinning(not hammerfest-ing), and that more than likely, there was still someone who could outride them there.
The grumblers didn't care about having fun, or buying into the idea of a social circle of fit people.

They didn't come to our Breast Cancer Awareness Ride, or any other ride for any other cause, for whatever reason.

They simply didn't want to take the time to realize that Mojo wasn't the usual bike shop. It wasn't a peckerhead shop where, within 5 minutes of entering, an employee asks what kind of bike you ride in an effort to size you up.
I keep saying was, because it WAS a year ago when I left. The same ideas apply now.

There are still grumblers, but more importantly, there are more people who are still buying into Mojo as an idea.
I cannot count how many people's lives have been changed by the shop, from simple weight loss to fitness goals achieved.
If you have reservations about the store, you don't Get It....but that's okay. You still can join the people who are considered less like customers, and more like family.

I'm not saying you should go in today and spend $1000 on gear. Indeed, on your first visit, you need not buy anything.

Go in, meet Mark, and ask what's coming up next on the ridiculously extensive calendar of Outdoor Events in Aroostook County. Say hi to his well-behaved kids, who are usually hanging out there. See when the next clinic or weekly ski is. Sit on the big comfy couch, and I guarantee within minutes someone will sit down and strike up a conversation by someone who Gets It.
That's just how it is there.

werewolfin'

There's a roof over my head, and the rooms inside are heated.
I could go to the next room and take a shower right now if I wanted to.

A fluffy couch. A dining room table.
A toilet that flushes.
The softness of the civilized world encroaches upon me always.

I must keep it at bay.

-----
Last night, I left work.
Saddling up on my old Trek, I set off on the last half of my 56 mile round trip commute.

It was cold, and my toes numbed within minutes.
My face froze.
I hadn't eaten much during the day, and I welcomed the wobble in my legs.

Tractor trailers blew by me, and I snuck dangerously close to the white line, catching free speed from their drafts.

Soon, the lights of the city were gone. My small headlight shone on the pavement ahead- just enough to see any cracks in the road that might cause significant damage.

Other than the hum of my own tires: silence.
The moon hung in a perfectly clear sky- a sure sign that the temperature was only going to get lower.

I was left with nothing but analysis:
Of how my feet were going to hurt when they finally thawed.
How the moon and I have had some pretty intimate nights together on rides and runs just like this.

How being out there in the cold and dark, hungry, is so not something humans seek out. As a race, it's just not something we do. Much better and safer to go home and turn on the TV. Comfort. Why?

For a while, I pretended I was something else, and acknowledged the moon with a low howl.

BrainDump

So, it's been a little over a month since the mountain-man summer.

I've been bumming around kind of, but things are about to change. My life has gone from super simple to busier than I can ever imagine, in just a matter of weeks. I can say I'm pretty happy about the way things are going.

Got a job pedaling gear at an outdoor store. Also teaching a spin class at a local gym. Waiting to hear back about a part time, overnight job as well. 3 minion jobs.
The last few years, I have been going through some things mentally... career wise.

I know that I need to advance in whatever I do, but ever since Olympia, I have been really apprehensive. This apprehension is because I know no moderation. Once I start, I have a tendency to go balls-out. I give my soul away, work hours not fit for a human being in order to make things perfect, and big companies take full advantage of that.
My inability to balance work and life scares me, and makes it extremely hard to want to commit, because I can already see the writing on the wall. I know for a fact, the last 2 years, I haven't given it my all, because if I do, my life will be work.

Also, I've worked too many jobs where the higher-level managers are held with such reverence, and the big boss is feared so much, that they may as well be God.
This is a game that I am absolutely done playing. These people are no better than anyone else... in fact, in my experience, they have more transgressions than most. Everyday, they also sit on the toilet and take big dumps, just like you. Think of them on the toilet straining next time someone says,"The Regional Manager is going to be here, don't do this or that!"

I don't know. Got off on a little tangent there.
The will to commit is there, but I don't want to go over the edge.
I don't want to take on the persona of just the average joe who works at that place.
There is so much more to life than working.
While my training is a great outlet, I have also started Gutter Race Productions.
This is a cause I believe in, and I think will help me focus on other things than work, and so I can punch in, give it my all, punch out, and stop thinking about work.

Paid my first month of rent in about a year and a half the other day. Can't say as I'm happy about it. There are 2 ways out. Go back to the VagabondLife(not an option with a woman in my life), or buy a house. While I'm not happy about rent, I am happy that my life is taking some direction.
I know where I want to be, I just have to go balls to the wall for a while. The challenge will be balancing it.

The Handwritten Diaries: Caught with my Pants Down

6/12/11
(After 10 days of training, this is the first night at the site)

The weather is junk: socked in, cold, and rainy.

Climbed to the summit of Mount Garfield. It was socked in with fog.
7 PM and no visitors yet.
Stoked that the site had a coffee pot. Took me 20 minutes to clean out the old coffee and mold. Yuck.
I forgot cream and sugar, so it looks like I will have to learn to like black coffee. Brought waaaaay too much food, which made for a tough hike in. I guess I'd rather have too much than not enough during these 10 days.
You hear stories of bad planning, and the last days' meals being peanut butter spoonfuls.

Gonna do last rounds and hit the sack.
Crossed fingers for no mice invasion.

-----------------------------
6-13-11
One thing I love about this job:bed at dusk.

Summited Garfield this AM and it was socked in, again. I am living in a cloud.
Getting killed by black flies.
Was cold last night. Had to put on everything I brought up, including rain gear. Not as bad today.
Every once in a while, the fog lifts, and a good view of Galehead is possible from the lookout.
No visitors last night, which is I guess rare for this site.
Earlier today during a rainy period, I stepped out of the tent to take a leak, and out of nowhere, a woman came around the corner to check the site out. What are the odds that the only person I've seen in the last 24 hours arrives and catches me mid-piss?
Luckily I was back-to. Unfortunately, that didn't make the camp tour less awkward.

Lots of down time up here. Some veteran caretakers say it helps to have a goal not job-related to occupy your mind.
Can definitely understand that. Got plenty, just need to figure out which ones should come first.
Peace out.

Ignorance: the New, Radical Adventure

Sometimes, I have the feeling that I was born during the wrong era.
I am just...bothered.

By what?
Oh, I don't know. Everything.
Whereas this makes me sound like an angry, cynical mountain man, perhaps I should explain.

I hate that we live in a world and society where everything needs to be quantified.
There is literally an answer for everything, and for the most part, it is absolute.

Where is the mystery? Where is the magic?
Easy answer: science and technology took it away.

Maybe our world is a slightly better place because of technology and progression. There are some cures that we can credit to our medical advances... but is that even a good thing?
The overpopulation of humans on earth is documented, which I also hate.

I don't want to believe in evolution. Why? Because that shit is boring....not to mention, there is NO way that all of the factors necessary for human life just happened to come into play at just the right time, one of the bazillions of results equaling me being able to type something on a device that I can carry around with one hand, post online, and have it be read immediately by people around the world.

If we didn't have TV and communication, beliefs of all kinds, in each region would be intact and with morals. We wouldn't be looking at Hollywood, getting married and divorced in the same day, trying to recreate what we see.

It would be nice to go into the woods and NOT know people had been there before, because there would be no maps made.

With all due respect and well-wishes to all victims of natural disasters, I find it refreshing that we can build massive structures and bridges, and nature can dismiss them in a matter of seconds.
Humans. We think we run shit, and it gets really tiring.

Wouldn't it be great to believe in ghosts, psychics, and ufos, without some asshole in a pocket protector and clipboard telling you why they don't exist?

If I'm bushwhacking in the western mountains of Maine, and I think I saw sasquatch, I wanna go back to camp and tell people that I think I just saw Bigfoot.
I love reiki, massage, and all other alternative methods of medicine because I believe there is a dimension that the whitecoats can't touch. The human mind. A God. Etc.

I want to believe there is mystery on earth still. Not scientific mystery- they're locked into their own perimeters and walls, and will probably never think outside of the box.
REAL mystery.
Maybe I've found it, and a lot of people(the quantifiers) will probably laugh.
Ignorance. It's not just bliss anymore.
Turn off the TV, iphone, and laptop.
Disconnect from all technology, and connect to the real world.

krp

Ramblings of a Nomad

The end of another Summer.

Days are getting shorter, and nights cold enough to warrant extra layers in my sleeping bag.
From my viewpoint on the side of Mount Garfield, I can now see blotches of yellow creeping into the foliage on the side of Galehead and South Twin.
Fall may not be here officially, but we have definitely turned a corner towards it in the mountains.

During one night in my last stint, I watched a thunderstorm miles to the north. Lightning lit up the clouds to a bright orange, creating all kinds of shapes in the clouds. Above me: a perfect clear and starry night. It was late, but I had to share it with someone. Luckily, some campers were awake. I persuaded them to come over to my tent, which has a great northerly view. We stood there for an hour and half, looking at the stars in between lightning strikes.
On nights like that, any regrets about the lifestyle I lead are forgotten.

I couldn't help but reflect on how the change of this season always seems to bring change to my life... especially in the last five years.
In August of 2006, I moved to Pennsylania.
October of 2007, I relocated back to Maine.
August of 2008, I gave up a shitty job trying to climb a corporate ladder for pennies, and moved to Presque Isle.
August of 2009, I put up with enough crap to last a lifetime, and switched residences again.
November of 2010, I left Northern Maine.

Here I sit, watching Hurricane Irene blow leaves around outside, wondering what change life will bring me this September, when my current job has run its course.
Unlike other years, it's more curiosity than worry. I've been through it so many times that I know the chips will fall where they may, and should anything unfavorable happen, I have my old standbys.

I will still have my bike.
My running shoes will always be waiting, smelling up my pack, and calling for me when I need to let out some steam. Of all the changes-negative and positive- I've had in my life, one thing has always been there for me.
My fitness.

It was there in high school, when I was ineligible to hang with my Cross Country friends because of my bad grades.
The day my dog died, I escaped the world via two feet and tunes.
Even when I was injured from the Triple Iron and lost mentally because of some major changes in my life in 2009, I still went out every night on Skunk Patrol... my name for night training in Presque Isle on the bike path.

Change is on the horizon. I can feel it.
And I'm ready.

krp

Puke Run: A Colorful Experience

Yesterday I walked out of the woods, looking for a good workout.
What I got, however, was a day of toughening that perhaps I've only seen a few times in my life.

I woke at 1:30am, and forced my stuff into my pack: axe, clothing, food, water, and propane tank. By 2am, I was headed the long way out of Garfield Ridge Campsite.

The waterfall/trail was tricky to navigate in the dark with my heavy pack, and this was compounded by my not having coffee. I had just 6 hours of sleep total the last few nights, so I felt kind of groggy.

I am not afraid of the dark, but am man enough to admit that my heart rate was higher than usual as I rock-hopped the technical 3 mile section from the campsite to the Galehead Hut. If I broke an ankle or had some other type of injury, I would be out there for a while before anyone came. There wasn't much room for error.

Upon reaching the hut around 3am, I was drenched in sweat. I de-layered and made the turn up South Twin.
Instantly, I felt the weight of the pack as I began to scale the slabs of rock they call a "trail". Gravity became my arch-nemesis.
.8 miles has never felt so long. I had given myself 6 hours for the 15 mile slog, to catch the Hiker shuttle...a 2.5 mile/hour average.
I could feel my time slipping away as I crested the 4900' mountain, but I just had to stop and admire the stars on a clear night. I'd never been above tree-line at this hour. The feeling was eerie, and at the same time, strangely calming.

As I made my way down the mountain and towards Mt. Guyot, I picked up the pace, making up for lost time. Occasionally I would look to the East and see the sky getting lighter. Time was going way too fast. At this rate, I would never make the shuttle.

I hit Guyot as the clear sky was turning from black to pre-sunrise gray. I cursed myself for breaking my camera, but no pictures could capture this moment... not in this light. Words cannot explain the monochromatic panorama of countless peaks in front of my eyes. I wanted to puke from going so hard, but some things are so beautiful, that even in moments of extreme pain, the mind can appreciate them. 9 miles to go.

Up over Zealand, the sky was every hue of purple, pink, and then orange as sunrise was in full bloom.
The forest was changing from predominantly evergreen to deciduous vegetation as I ducked below 4000', blasting over bog bridges and step stones, with my headlight only useful in groves of pines and hemlocks, where light still hadn't penetrated.

I crossed over Zealand Falls and as I ran by the hut, early risers on the porch gave me strange looks. Who was this weirdo with an axe-handle and random bicycling gear sticking out of his pack, running by at this hour?

Making the right off of the Zealand Trail and on to the A-Z Trail, I was behind schedule, but thoroughly enjoying a trail much less traveled than anything I'd been on so far that morning. The handle of my axe and my bike helmet frequently snagged low hanging branches, as I tried to go as fast as possible. The bushwhacking was fun, but being behind schedule was kind of stressing me out. I wanted time to get the Highland Center, change, and kill some French Toast and breakfast burritos before departing to Pinkham Notch.

Soon, the trail was going uphill in a big way, and I was back in evergreen country. Having only stopped twice for water and a few Nutter Butter cookies in 5 hours, I could feel my body using its last resources. Every once in a while, my stomach would heave as my pulse pounded to a rate it doesn't often see.
The intersection I came to said "Crawford Notch- 2.3 miles, Mt. Tom Spur-.5 miles."

I had hoped to go up Mt. Tom, but I was toast. I didn't have time, anyways. I plunged down the mountain, brushing past ferns and hobblebush, admiring the occasional cascade by the trail. Bear tracks were everywhere, but at this point, I figured I was making so much noise huffing and puffing and clinking down the trail that they wouldn't be interested...besides, I had gone 10 days without a shower. They wouldn't want to eat anything that disgusting.

It's always a weird feeling to exit out of the woods and into the world of vehicles. Walking on the smooth, hard surface of pavement feels strange and foreign, after rock hopping every step of every day for a week and a half. It was 8:15... I was a tad behind schedule, and seeing stars from depletion and deprivation of everything necessary for human life, but otherwise happy to see that breakfast was still being served.

After eating with a fury for 30 minutes straight, I boarded the shuttle and began the voyage to Pinkham Notch, thoroughly spent, but happy to be headed to civilization, and a shower.

Escape.

There's a lot of time to sit and think when you're out in the woods for long periods of time.
No internet. No TV.
No distractions... just your own wheels, spinning away.

In my late 20s, there are a lot of hamsters up there.
Why are you living from race to race?
Why aren't you married with kids, like everyone else your age?
What's your plan after the summer?
What's your plan at life?
Why don't you give up these foolish dreams and get a real job?

Almost everyone I chat with on the trail wants my job. We talk about the intangibles of life and discuss the "real world".
I cannot deny that I have had some very deep conversations with people I've just met. Hikers are a philosophical bunch.

There really isn't a lot of stability in my life right now.
I guess this is the Tentman way.
75% of the time, I am infatuated with life I lead. I am fortunate to have the experiences I do on a daily basis.
25% of the time, I reprimand myself for the choices I've made in my life. I gave up a good job with good benefits, not once, but twice... for something that wasn't even guaranteed. Reason outweighed by Passion.

My insurance is my good health as a result of my athletic pursuits.
My benefits package includes waking with the sound of birds singing, and a panoramic view that people from all over the world come to view.

Yesterday, I woke at 5 AM, packed my bag, and began my voyage out of the woods from Stint 2, at Liberty Springs Campsite.
I took stock of my options, and decided to hike the long way out.
Hiking up and over Mount Liberty, I stood above tree-line and took it all in, while pieces of clouds blew around me.
Rocks crunched under my feet as I dipped below treeline on my way toward Mount Flume. The mud was untouched from the rain the night before. I was making the first tracks of the day.
No cars, no jets, no voices....just wind and birds.

Fir and hemlock trees scraped my arms. Spider webs hit my face, time and again...I was clearing the way for all of the morning hikers.
I stood on the edge of Flume, legs a little shaky from the height and severe drop-off that I hadn't seen a few days before, when fog was thick as pea soup. Clouds thousands of feet below shrouded smaller mountains, making them look like islands in an opaque grey ocean.

After some breakfast, I began the 5.5 mile descent to Lincoln Woods and the Kancamagus Highway. Evergreens were the pillars of the trail, and I hopped from root to rock to dirt, over and over again. As I made my way down the Osseo Trail, footing became smoother. Evergreens turned to hardwoods. The sun was shining brilliantly, making dew-covered ferns look diamond-studded.

Suddenly, I couldn't feel the weight of my pack. The downgrade lessened, and I began to open my stride. Soon, I was running through puddles, and jumping over rocks. My frontal vision scanned for obstacles in the trail, while peripherally, I admired a raging brook, still steaming from the morning's temperature change.

After 4.1 miles of complete zen, I hit Franconia Brook Trail, which is more like a dirt road. The footing was easy for that 1.4 mile stretch, allowing me to drift off and recall mental images of the morning that no picture could ever grasp.
This is the life I have chosen, and at times like that, there is no second-guessing my decisions.

Depending on the moment, I either revel or despair in the idea that some people never have experiences like this.
I wonder if we ever really "figure things out". Maybe we just live from lesson to lesson, and constantly ponder how things might have been, had we done things just a little differently.
Maybe this is why we all have our own ways of escaping the "real world"...to stop the wheels from turning.

krp

Straight Out' the Notepad: Career Vs. Calling

I don't really know where to start.
In the last two weeks, I've worked 10 days. After each 5 day work stretch, I leave feeling as though I've been on vacation.

It brings to mind this one time I was scanning through the radio stations, while driving to Presque Isle. I was doing the normal thing people do from Bangor to Houlton on 95: zoning out.
My driving coma stopped me on this sermon by Dr. David Jeremiah.
He spoke of how people settle into careers.
Careers pay well. Careers offer upward mobility. Careers can be very stable.

And then there are things you are born to do. Things that pull at you as you sit at your desk.
It doesn't pay well as well. The schedule isn't always set. The benefits are probably lacking.
All of these details do not matter, because the work IS the pay AND the benefit.
This is your Calling.

I've spent the last 2 weeks moving 500 pound rocks out of the ground by hand, doing Leave No Trace presentations, swatting bugs/ picking ticks, getting caught on a mountain in a lightning/hail storm, and seeing rare wildlife.
My calling.
For the first time in my life, I'm working for a REAL purpose. No percentages. No making some rich guy richer because of my hard work. No up-selling.

Now, the sweat off my back stops erosion, and teaches people how the smallest unknown action can adversely change the wilderness. I finish the day feeling like I maybe made a difference that actually matters.
There is no going back now.

Without further ado, this is straight out' the notepad:

May 30: riding bike at 40 mph+ down Pinkham Notch, cell phone flies out of my pocket and skates down 16 in pieces. somehow still works.

May 31: Watched helicopter make multiple pickups of supplies for Madison Spring Hut. Very awesome. I messed up on my schedule as well this day and did 2 Pinkham Ascents (a 4+ mile climb on my bike) before 8:30 am...mind you, this is not even 48 hours after running 31 miles. Ouch.

Jun 1: Did trail work in the Southern Mahoosucs. Electrical storm produced hail and we were just below a ridgeline with tons of metal tools. Had 3 ticks, and the mosquitoes were so bad that you could barely breathe.

June 2/3: On my morning ride up Pinkham, saw 2 moose. Spent day off trail gathering massive rocks and rolling them downhill, using downed trees as barricades in pinball fashion for later use as waterbars. Gigantic complete rainbow just across the road from Pinkham. Cold days. Bad black flies. Evenings spent drinking Double Bag and talking methods of killing fecal mice that make their way to the shelters.

June 5: Spent day and night at Ethan Pond Shelter. I was heading down to the water source and heard a loud noise going up a tree. Way too big for a squirrel. Surprised to see a Marten staring at me. What an amazing creature. Some resources state that to see one of these in the wild is a once in a lifetime experience. Before bed, spent a while by the pond. Very tranquil. Was awakened in the night by a very loud and pissed off sounding bird in the distance. Not sure what it was until the next morning.

June 6: Finished compost training. I went to the pond in the morning and scared a blue heron off. It went to a rock a few hundred yards off, and made the same noise I had heard the night before. Something must have gotten into it's nest.

June 7: Hike to Gentian Pond Shelter for more training. Before bed, we were hanging out and were astounded to see a snowshoe hare come within 18 inches of us. It did not seem at all concerned by our presence. Just before dark, another caretaker and I walked down to the pond to see if we could view any more wildlife at this amazing spot. We were rewarded by the sight of beavers going in and out of their lodge. A couple of them swam just off shore and we took the hint to leave when one of them slapped their tail at us. Saw my first deer tick ever. Scary how small they are. I honestly don't think you would know you had it on you until it was too late.

June 8: After two days of Leave No Trace, the irony of the real world hit us on our hike out. In less than 24 hours, part of the trail we had hiked in on was completely wiped out by a skitter from a logging crew. I am not a tree hugger by any stretch and respect private landowners' rights, but that was kind of a downer.

I have 3 days off, and then it's back in the woods, and I start my 10 day stint. Let the fun stuff begin!

Thanks for following along,
krp

Love The Ride

gimme my pack
and a bike with 1 gear
some Pringles in a stack
and i'm outta here

torque and wattage
i climb the mountain
pass the cottage
miles? not countin'

runnin' on fumes
my body's a sponge
can o' legumes,
legs covered in grunge

hours blend to days
moods like tides
i can only live this way
man, do i love the ride


krp

spring running, an ode

ipad
itouch
ipod
icannotescape
the doorknob:
only threshold iknow

the trail calls my name
i willingly accept
ignite my flame
with uncounted steps

"the real world: just
bills, money, and counting cash"
instead, i must
get thrills running through mountain ash

push past pines
each step a revival
pricked by thorny vines
my drug is survival

stop on the ridge
breathe in, breathe out
never give an inch
that's not what i'm about

overcast gives way
to a sunrise at five
i am moving
because i'm alive

krp

Mt. Pisgah, Winthrop/Monmouth, Maine 2/13/2011

One of my good buddies is starting to do some hiking.

Boydie is now living in the Augusta area, so the three of us decided to bag a small mountain in a place close by. Mt. Pisgah, a small, 810' hill seemed to fit the bill.

The trail starts out looking like a snowmobile trail, but about a hundred yards in, a snowshoe trail branches off to the left.

It was well packed...so packed that we had no use for our snowshoes, and ended up carrying them all the way to the top.
There were some cool trees, but not a lot to look at as the trail wound to the top.

The elevation alone told us this would be a short hike, but I had no idea we would be to the top in 25 minutes.

A fire tower is surprisingly open to the public to climb, and the views are actually pretty great from there. We were able to see 360 degrees for miles, and could even glimpse Mount Washington.
Lots of interesting graffiti inside the tower as well.

Not wanting to backtrack, we took the snowmobile trail back down, which was actually steeper than the snowshoe trail.

The bottom line: This is an extremely easy hike. If you just happen to be passing through Winthrop, Monmouth, or Wayne and have an hour to kill on a nice day, or want a nice family hike, this is the one for you.
Enjoy.

krp

**Photos by N Du

Baldpate West Peak 3662'

Headed once again to Western Maine's Grafton Notch for another assault of the park's numerous peaks. I love that place.
Not only is it close by, no one is there. This makes for a great hiking experience in my book.
My goal was to get to both the East and West Peak of Baldpate, but I wasn't sure my late start time of 1pm would allow for it.

I was surprised to see that the trail was broken, but not since the last storm. This made for about 4-5 inches underfoot. Fairly easy going on snowshoes.
My suspicions were correct when I hit the Table Rock turn. More traffic had gone that way than on the AT, which was the direction I was going.

Often times, the trail was drifted in and I had to either look for the White Blaze or just kind of guess whether or not I was on the trail. The White Blazes were more often than not covered by snow.
I got to the hut and realized I had gone too far, because there was no visible trail anymore. There were some ominous dark clouds rolling in so I just kind of sat in the hut, eating and drinking, trying to decide whether to bag the trip or not.
It was 2:15. I figured I had enough daylight, and if the clouds produced anything, I would just turn around.

Backtracked about 200 yards and found the trail sign hidden behind a snow-covered pine tree. No one had been this way in a while.

It was only a mile to the top, but it was a slog. The blazes were only visible every once in a while, so it was kind of a matter of following where there were gaps in the trees. The snow was knee deep most of the way and at times I was forced to scramble on hands and knees on some of the steeper parts. 1 mile took an hour.
I didn't hang around at the top. Took a picture of the East Peak, which looked way cooler, and headed down.
That mile down was so fun. I slid on my snowshoes almost the whole way. Going up: 1hour. Going down: 15 minutes.

Another hour later, and I was back to the car.
Total trip time: 3.5 hours.
Very strenuous because of the snow, specifically the last mile to the peak.

Highly recommended, but take more time to stop and smell the roses.
I need to break my habit of rushing these things.
Peace out!
krp

never

a round hole
i'm the square peg
a free soul
on two legs

in a world of serious
i'm that cloud, adrift
oblivious, delirious
i cannot make the shift

not frozen alive
by the cold of the corporate
rather barely survive
with more to show for it

the "real world" cannot touch me
as i run on mountain tops
effortless, above the trees
never slow down, never stop

-krp

Western Mountain Extravaganza

Time sure does fly when you go from adventure to adventure.

Last week, I was dropped off in Bethel. Rode my bike up to Grafton Notch via 26. With the wind coming straight at my face from the north, it did not make for a comfortable ride.
By the time I hit the parking lot of Old Speck, my feet were absolutely frozen.

I sat at the picnic tables and changed into my regular shoes and microspikes. This was right before the big snowstorm, so I really wasn't expecting too much snow until the top of the mountain. I hiked my bike up the mountain for awhile, and stashed it just high enough where I figured no one would want to be bothered with taking it down, and then went to work.
It was about 10am when I hid the bike, and I still had about 2.5 miles to go. The sky was cloudless and blue, and there was no wind.
I wanted to hit the peak and have the same conditions, so I flew up the mountain, on occasion going so hard that breakfast would try and escape my gut. The closer I got to the top, the slower I went.
It felt like I just couldn't take enough pictures of the snow on the trees with the perfect scenery in the background. The day, the scenery, the whole experience was just perfect.

There was lots of ice, but never a time where I felt I was making an unsafe move. When I got to the top, I took it all in and ate about 500 brownies. Food always tastes better at the top of a mountain. Especially on a day this clear.

My liquids started to freeze after 20 minutes, so I made short work of the descent. There were times you could get on your butt and slide for 50-100 yards at a time. It had just enough snow that the sliding wasn't too fast or dangerous. I was still wearing bike shorts under all my layers, so roots and rocks didn't really create issues for my behind.

I reconnected with my bike, hiked it down, and changed into my bike gear. It was only 2pm, but the sun was behind the big mountain, and I was COLD.
Quickly changed into bike gear and headed up 26 on my way to East B Hill Road. The rest of 26 was a 10 mile uphill, and my legs were super tired from going so hard up the mountain...the 40 pound pack that contained the week's food and drink on my back didn't make the climb any easier either.

Seeing a coyote let my mind wander for a while... I wondered what he was doing at this time of day, and whether or not he would choose to scavenge me should I die of mental misery.

Turning on East B Hill Road, I knew it was basically all downhill into Andover, where my camp is located, so I figured I was basically done. It was an unpleasant surprise to see that this road had snow on it. A road bike+snow and ice+pavement=severe danger. I stopped riding, started swearing, and changed into regular shoes, and basically walked the whole road....riding where there were patches of pavement.

By the time I hit Andover General Store, it was pitch dark. I got my lights on, bought some food and drink, and rode the last couple of miles into camp. Once I got the fire going, I had some Sam Winter, some food, shot the shit with my Dad, and crashed HARD.

The next couple of days were spent preparing the camp for some great people to join me for the weekend. We hit up Dunn Falls via snowshoe, went cross country skiing up Devil's Den, and visited the canyon...a staple for each camp visit. Extra curricular activities included sledding both downhill and behind car, deca-flipcup, olympic cheese ball eating, bonfire building, and chili enthusiasm.

I love being TentMan.

***topmost photo of canyon is Anneliese Behrman's

I'm sitting by the fire at camp on a sunny, blue sky morning.
About 8 inches of snow fell yesterday.

Every time I come here to our cabin in the mountains, I can't help but realize how much happier I am in such a basic setting. Here, civilization as we know it could be destroyed and I wouldn't have a clue as I went about the daily tasks of preparing food, shoveling, and getting wood and water.

We have so many "things" in our society. "This new ___ will make my life so much easier, and save me so much more time and money!"

I ask, how could things get any easier for us, and what are we REALLY going to do with our spare time?
We live in a world where everything is instantaneous. The only reason we work a zillion hours a week, is to afford the things that we don't need.

If we are lucky enough to have a day without work, our technology make it easy for us to misuse our spare time. God did not intend us to spend an entire saturday watching tv. And people wonder why they feel so lethargic, sitting around for an entire day. You string a couple of those days together, and lethargy turns into depression.

I think we need to go back a hundred years. You don't have time to be depressed when there's wood to be chopped, because let's face it, if you don't chop that wood, your going to die of hypothermia.

The formula is simple.
Stop it.
Do you NEED 300 channels? Do you NEED a new car when yours works fine and is paid off?
Edward Abbey said,"Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of a cancer cell."

In this American society where bigger better faster stronger is the attitude, scale it back.
Enjoy life at the slower pace it was intended to be lived at!

krp

Piper Mountain

Yesterday we braved the snow squalls and headed for Piper Mountain, a 2044' mountain in the Belknap area in NH.

We parked at the gate and walked past the "Piper Mountain 1 Mile" sign.

Nicole had microspikes, and I forgot mine.
The trail was very frozen and super slippery in spots, so I tried my snowshoes, which have pretty aggressive crampons, but they were too clunky and really didn't offer the same traction that my microspikes had.
Chose to bareboot it, and made it all the way to the top, intermittently scrambling on all fours to keep from breaking my ass.

We hung out at the top for maybe 20 minutes, taking pictures and sitting on the cool rock thrones that someone constructed.

We didn't know the trails too well and had no time to "get lost", so we decided to go back down the way we came.
After a tenth of a mile we met up with some guys who were taking care of the trail. They noticed my lack of spikes, and offered to show us another way down that might be easier spikeless.

They brought us to the new trail, and gave us further directions...also offering me an extra pair of spikes to use on the way down.
I gratefully accepted, and we made our way down the mountain.

Overall, this was a super hike. Quick. Great views at the top.
If we had more time, we could have done a couple other peaks in only a couple extra hours.
The only downside was that the trail we took on the way down popped us out on an unmaintained road, and we had to walk maybe 3/4 of a mile down that. Someone had taken a sled and gone down the whole thing. Now THAT would be fun.

Also, we met a couple great guys and one SUPER COOL British Cream Retriever(google it!) who loved to eat snow and rip whole branches off of trees.

Great times!

Pleasantly Surprised

Sometimes when I'm on the way to somewhere, I look for short hikes for the fun of it. If time allows, I hike it.
Generally I don't expect too much from these smaller hikes. When you hike a lot, you kind of come to assume that the less time you spend going uphill, the less reward you get at the top.

Nicole and I were headed to NH, and our route took us on 302 west towards Fryeburg.
We drove past Shawnee Peak Ski area, and took a left on Wilton Warren Road.
A couple miles down the dirt road, we actually drove right past the trailhead and had to backtrack. The only sign is a small wooden one that says "Fire Warden's Trail".

We donned the snowshoes and started our ascent up Pleasant Mountain. The trail was well traveled and very open. There was no steep section to be had. We took our time, admiring the views of the White Mountains to the west. The weather was 50ish degrees. Very uncharacteristic.

One of the coolest parts of the hike was right before the top, on the east side of the mountain before getting to the lookout tower. There was zero wind. The sky was blue, and it had to be 50 degrees. I could've hung out there all day. If only we had brought a beer on this perfect day!

A quarter mile later and we were staring at some pretty amazing views of the Whites. On this side, the west side, a cold wind was blowing directly at us.
We sat on top until we were too cold, and then descended. About 2 hours to the top, and a little over an hour to the bottom of the 2009 foot mountain.

I think the gradual climb and short distance of this climb makes an awesome starter for your winter hiking season...and I am looking forward to hitting this one in the spring as well. The small streams are sure to be even more beautiful when they are flooded with runoff!

Happy Trails!

krp