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