tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84217074753607590602024-03-12T19:44:23.709-07:00GoDylanGoMy Appalachian Trail Project for UNICEFGoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-30040218011793546412011-12-22T08:30:00.000-08:002011-12-22T08:30:35.960-08:00I'm Done!/ Thanksgiving Post<i>"Good morning!" from freaking Miami, FL! You know what that means, don't you!? That's right, you got it, I finally quit!</i><br />
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<i>Just kidding. The Bastards, Bob White, Powder River, and Teeny (Valerie), summited Springer on the morning of December 17 with a full cast of relatives and assorted loved ones. It was a lot of stuff. Mostly, though, it was awesome. </i><br />
<i>It's wonderful to be back with my family and old friends, and bittersweet to part (momentarily!) from my trail friends.</i><br />
<i>Besides a UNICEF fundraiser, this blog is my trail journal. </i><i>I'll continue to update this blog through Springer, and probably Miami too. I'll describe this whole phase more thoroughly when I reach that point in the journal (it'll be more convenient to look back at it after some time, considering I'm pretty dazed and wistful at the moment).</i><br />
<i>I wrote the following post on Thanksgiving, intending to put it on this blog earlier. Here ya' go:</i><br />
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Salutations from Overmountain Shelter, NC! Right now, Eddy's managing the fire... It's funny how much of a spectator sport it's become... He just poured a bit of Heet and it leaped into life! To someone from the past, that'd probably seem like some cheap magic trick... T-Mellow just resorted to a plastic dustpan in place of this shelter's missing broom... Surprisingly adequate- nice!<br />
This shelter's awesome; a converted barn with a spacious attic and an epic view of a valley and a far-off mountain range. It'll be a fine spot for the crew's Thanksgiving festivities (Eddy's got the hot dogs on lock. T-Mellow's going for the more traditional Stove Top Stuffing with turkey n' gravy).<br />
Oh! Eddy found the broomhead and jabbed a stick in to function as the handle...<br />
It's been a great Thanksgiving; perfect temperature, absolutely spotless skies, and easy walking over exposed prairie land- 5000+ feet high!<br />
It's no secret that we have a lot to be grateful for. We thrive on the generosity of so many hitches, hostel-owners, and trail angels, on the whims of the weather, on circumstantial reunions with old friends, or fateful encounters with new ones, guided along what might be the world's greatest volunteer project: a tour of the Appalachian's richness of miracles.<br />
For a couple of weeks, every day would turn out to be the "best day ever," until the next one topped it. Eventually this streak did end, but the isolated moments of awesomeness that followed kept us astonished. <br />
If there were a recipient for my la-la cosmic gratefulness, I'd probably have talked his ear off by now...<br />
Except I guess I haven't... I'd like to propose a toast to my freaking AMAZING parents! The awesomeness cannot be transcribed. They encouraged this trip, financed it, helped plan it- they brought me on my first camping trip, hahaha! Most importantly, they founded a household on mutual respect, friendliness, and simple affection... or love. Or whatever.<br />
Mad, mad props, guys.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FOspQn--TvI/TvNP0jF70iI/AAAAAAAAAZA/_3viX4KA7tQ/s1600/high-five.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FOspQn--TvI/TvNP0jF70iI/AAAAAAAAAZA/_3viX4KA7tQ/s320/high-five.png" width="320" /></a></div>I'd also like to thank Adam and Ali, T-Mellow's friends from Virginia Tech, who took me in when I was sick. Also, Tabitha, Rachel, and Megan, the ladies in Boone who let us crash at their place for two nights. I'll elaborate on all their deeds, but rest assured, they're remarkable people.<br />
Well, I haven't written the next part of my story yet, but stay tuned! It's a pretty un-missable kind of thing, you know!GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-52996538842976560982011-11-27T08:25:00.001-08:002011-11-27T08:25:55.134-08:00Photos 2Some assorted pictures from the area around Roan Mountain, NC:<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712541602589858'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mYGkNL2hyzY/TtJkdtSNrKI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/-OrJKs-h6zQ/s288/23.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712546848883698'><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-V4wP2gg0FBI/TtJkeA1Bw_I/AAAAAAAAAXY/GQx0vMbM4eQ/s288/22.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712560326878226'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-x4aOx_XxThc/TtJkezCbpBI/AAAAAAAAAXg/PqtreTJ9nV4/s288/24.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712568189522658'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9lduO-PxL4Q/TtJkfQVCEuI/AAAAAAAAAXo/CAlFeQSeH-0/s288/25.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712580829671954'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-pYcYWKLbo1I/TtJkf_archI/AAAAAAAAAXw/63XoFYZIzYQ/s288/26.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712585568447778'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LorJQEd2EgY/TtJkgREfbSI/AAAAAAAAAX4/7spuCG3bNbk/s288/27.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712597308644082'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mqvRBKBeS3o/TtJkg8zkmvI/AAAAAAAAAYA/ktDtUlJwelE/s288/28.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712609302054498'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-WIA3zyosAGk/TtJkhpfBhmI/AAAAAAAAAYI/T_EL8_iq9Zk/s288/29.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712621942369794'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-X0Dtz32jIGM/TtJkiYktbgI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/Tdyj0U-5pLE/s288/30.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712630279383890'><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-DaN2YKRDqRc/TtJki3oaK1I/AAAAAAAAAYY/gvPwTl8JJPw/s288/31.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712640486981138'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hzxIJ-PRaJU/TtJkjdqFvhI/AAAAAAAAAYg/m2s5hovs-V0/s288/32.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712647655478594'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-yL-6UXqe1Lc/TtJkj4XMVUI/AAAAAAAAAYo/SJ51Q8cdv7U/s288/33.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5679712657182716850'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-buFN4glS1TY/TtJkkb2qc7I/AAAAAAAAAYw/mhAQeGNFIVQ/s288/34.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-84676734595049545762011-11-23T11:36:00.001-08:002011-11-23T11:57:20.463-08:00Photos 1I've been taking photos again for the last couple weeks. Let's check em' out!<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724161261761538'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-QbQ8553Mb2Y/TstUCvSo9AI/AAAAAAAAAT8/PVld3uM-Vzk/s288/28.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Morning after our first snowy day. It was melting at this point. I was really into the color/snow combo. T-Mellow has great photos from this day on his blog (see the previous photo post for the address).<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724190264270834'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-d-EVPZTSoVg/TstUEbVYH_I/AAAAAAAAAUE/Cxfh_Qy4lIc/s288/27.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Outside of Daleville, VA.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724203286626178'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-e8Cvj9naZoY/TstUFL2Jf4I/AAAAAAAAAUM/2KnFw4hfsxk/s288/26.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />A vista outside of Daleville,VA.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724232304391586'><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Az-dYz9eoaA/TstUG38hdaI/AAAAAAAAAUU/56_4Yq8qTzI/s288/25.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Another "peak chill."<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5678282797607461298'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-bxWJ21Y6Fsg/Ts1QHp2aobI/AAAAAAAAAXE/GRD_AJqxrUY/s288/6.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724290393027346'><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-IE_89ALAQ9E/TstUKQV7sxI/AAAAAAAAAUk/uVhVCrSmbAw/s288/23.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Reminds me of some vintage sci-fi thing.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724308656779410'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-q_886KhoAWE/TstULUYWcJI/AAAAAAAAAUs/d3n2dfNb7QE/s288/22.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Cow country in Kent, VA. That barn is The Barn, an awesome home-cooking joint.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724324179821586'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-saTIZQUJBCs/TstUMONVRBI/AAAAAAAAAU0/gV5kzScu86c/s288/21.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724375745987714'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-pOVvCnyHSZQ/TstUPOTqhII/AAAAAAAAAVE/8NFjD8ClBz8/s288/19.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724385025884034'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YMSNF8UPGto/TstUPw4Kf4I/AAAAAAAAAVM/ZYgOJAKrqPE/s288/18.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724399249118530'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xbYk1tstlGc/TstUQl3P1UI/AAAAAAAAAVU/nOOMtPLVhhs/s288/17.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Rocks in Grayson Highlands State Park, VA.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724417300755890'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hwmJL_m-FD8/TstURpHF9bI/AAAAAAAAAVc/8jtV02Zig18/s288/16.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Ponies, hahaha.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724428998400962'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ke59OQG_xhU/TstUSUsB28I/AAAAAAAAAVk/G-_LHtio2Pw/s288/15.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Stumpy lil' dudes- and fat/pregnant.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724443302087074'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1w09_L8h3do/TstUTJ-SyaI/AAAAAAAAAVs/IV9Kq5RiVY8/s288/14.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Impressive texture on that pony. Coach's signature photo smile.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724449394412162'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-m8uTlVFbwbs/TstUTgq0SoI/AAAAAAAAAV0/5w05akPbgTQ/s288/13.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />View from White Top Mountain.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724460582753506'><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Js8MMlK3i6M/TstUUKWU1OI/AAAAAAAAAV8/orT5dOe0hDg/s288/12.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Kitties at Kincora, a popular hostel near Hampton, TN.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724469175195810'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OjUVLqiotqU/TstUUqW7GKI/AAAAAAAAAWE/KI8qMcY-NNw/s288/29.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Kitties!<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724480114610546'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Wr6CtLcwmVk/TstUVTHFUXI/AAAAAAAAAWM/oBV7vAICSUs/s288/11.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />I heard that Bob Peoples, the hostel-owner, has 5000 thank you cards.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5677724493737060402'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-1DhLnS3il-s/TstUWF27aDI/AAAAAAAAAWU/0Cuc6fpbh0M/s288/7.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Tabitha n' Megan n' Rachel's place in Appalachian State's Boone, North Carolina. We met Tabitha at Kincora, where she and a bunch of App. State kids were doing volunteer trail maintenance. We wound up getting driven to Boone (in Dan's pimped-out camper van) AND staying at Tabitha's for two nights before she drove us back! Them and their town were awesome (grammar?). I'll detail the awesomeness in an upcoming blog entry.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5678277341271409634'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-2DPjrKGjxSM/Ts1LKDahw-I/AAAAAAAAAWo/B7uLXzFru9s/s288/6.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Megan and Eddy chillin' on the futon in front of an epic mural in the living room.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5678277356962269506'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-4UefZ5a1ppA/Ts1LK93hSUI/AAAAAAAAAWw/N7Ct_zfaMn4/s288/30.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Tabitha and the crew outside our wonderful Boone crash-pad.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5678277363467475298'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-6lJ-gP_iUBU/Ts1LLWGe2WI/AAAAAAAAAW4/l991rvmXZXo/s288/31.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Straight flowin'... T-Mellow too.<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br /><br />GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-8361421080973041162011-11-07T09:38:00.000-08:002011-11-07T09:38:45.855-08:00Salisbury, NY to NYC to Pawling, NY"Holla!" from Catawba Shelter, VA. Tag and I just had an epic game of frisbee. We were casually tossing the lid back and forth, prepared to call it quits fairly soon and begin our day's hike, when Coach discovered that his package wouldn't arrive in the nearby town of Newport until at least tomorrow. This, in addition to his full-fledged blister situation, immediately convinced Tag and me that a zero was in order. The free time really helped us focus on, and invest in, our frisbee skills; we've been banking shots around the trees for at least two hours now.<br />
Now where were we...?<br />
We thanked the Cobbs one last time and moved onward, excited for the upcoming detour to NYC, where we would stay at my brother's new pad with his super-cool/accommodating girlfriend, Lisa, and roommates, Matt and Kat. From Salisbury, CN, we hiked to Kent, where I downed half a gallon of Chocolate soy milk before accompanying the gang, plus Moose n' Easy, to a pizza joint. The waitress, like most ladies these days, was remarkably distracting for myself and my fellows.<br />
We hitched out of Kent just before sunset and walked a short ways to the nearest shelter. Little did I know that the most horrific night of my entire life awaited me there. Besides a few mosquitoes, which probably spawned from the stagnant puddles of a nearby creek, a fleet of invisible something's (I presume bugs) tormented me all night long, attacking any exposed skin they could find. I hid myself under the sleeping bag and, ignoring the heat of the night, fell asleep.<br />
But no. The temperature managed to wake me up and, emerging from my sarcophagus, I discovered that I had thoroughly soaked the bag in sweat. Besides Moose's campfire, which had escalated into a strobing blaze during my unconsciousness, I thought the invisible bugs might have infested the shelter, so I bailed out of there, leaving a body-length wet mark behind, and set up on the ground behind it. Enclosed in my hammock's bug net (not strung up), I alternated among countless positions, constantly shifting attention from one stress factor (balance, bug net tension, warmth?) to another (muscle fatigue, claustrophobia, clothing distribution?).<br />
Miraculously, I awoke with my sanity.<br />
Originally, We intended to do an 18-mile day to the Appalachian Trail Railroad Station, a tiny platform along the trail, so we could board the 7:30 ride to Grand Central Station. However, I couldn't reach Jesse to inform him of our arrival (turns out I had the wrong number), so we decided to do a shorter day, bypass the the station the next day (it only runs on weekends), and take the train out of Pawling, NY.<br />
We lolly-gagged all day, taking generous peak chills, a relaxed river-side lunch, and some fierce, highly-stylized noodle battles (a few kayakers witnessed the action). It was a sluggish day- overcast, humid- "poopy"- if you will- so we were eager for distractions.<br />
Around 4:45, we rolled into what might have been that night's shelter. We snacked, then I tried reaching my brother some more, before calling my mom to catch up. She told me that Jesse expected us sometime that night! We could still make the 7:30 train, 6 miles away, if we moved fast. The prospect of being whisked into the city before the day ended revitalized our momentum. At 5:20, we headed off. Power walking the uphills and jogging the downhills, we managed to totally overcompensate and arrive around 7:00. It felt like some heinous military drill.<br />
We found T-Mellow, Moose n' Easy chatting with a couple day hikers. We bid Moose n' Easy farewell, knowing that they would be well ahead before we returned to the trail. In the heat of the moment, T-Mellow hopped aboard and joined us on our New York escapade.<br />
The train ride was a victory cruise to our long-awaited destination.<br />
The glared windows only revealed the tops of trees and the outlines of buildings against the night sky. The train ducked underground before New York was visible. Exiting the train, it was more like we had teleported, and not gradually transitioned from the familiar outdoors to this seemingly impossible subterranean railroad platform. Climbing the stairs and stepping into the monumental, arched lobby of Grand Central Station, buzzing with hundreds of people, all types and styles, completed the effect. I had a moment of vertigo distinct from that of much larger mountains and valleys, but comparably powerful due to the scope of human reach, represented in the architecture, and the promise of the city, its home.<br />
We were all giddy and started to laugh. We were ready to get stimulated.<br />
Of course, the whole city's abuzz with human activity- industry and culture and rhetoric and coordination and social posturing- blown up to a scale that the modest woods and its critters can't match. My dad would've said, "Oh, the humanity!"<br />
Outside (are you ever "outside" there?), we were struck by the cry of a bagpipe-player, and down the sidewalk, listened to a jazzy saxophonist. Each musician had their own bubble of spectators and, although their music was so loud, they could play within half a sidewalk's distance from each other, isolated by the muting effect of ambient traffic and babel. A bit frazzled, we tried to follow my iPhone's GPS to a cafe, but it was all glitchy, probably because of all the signals and obstructions in the area, so we wandered into a deli/grocery store. I simply couldn't decide what I wanted most, so I settled on a banana. <br />
("WHAT YOU WANT!?")<br />
("that banana.")<br />
("OK, DOLLA FIFTY.")<br />
("here ya' go, thanks.")<br />
("NEXT!")<br />
Tag got some cereal and milk- for ten bucks! This kind of thing would prove to be typical of the city, and even the whole state to a degree.<br />
We chilled on the sidewalk and watched the crazy people in their ridiculous clothes. They seemed convinced of something important, or desirable, that dictated not only their destinations, but the manners they'd adopt for the commute. Some darted to appointments, some ambled too-cool-for-school with their phones or dates, and others bobbed along like Macy's Day balloons for all to see, parodies of fashion, full of cultural static and color and hot air (I'm going to go ahead and keep that sentence in there). They seemed to inhabit worlds of their own. They moved- and communicated- with and around each other, shooting their vectors in all different directions. (The AT's no more "real" than fashion or pop culture or whatever. It's less visual, that's all.)<br />
Soon enough, Jesse materialized from the crowd. I was happy to reunite with someone from "the beforetime," especially my near-n'-dear bro. I was proud to show off his cool demeanor and witty antics to the crew.<br />
We followed our groovy guide all the way home, where we were warmly received into a perfectly stationary living space. Our hosts couldn't have been cooler. We chit-chatted over drinks, bathed, and eventually passed out on the air mattress, excited for the days ahead.<br />
The next morning we drew up an itinerary over coffee, donned some of Jesse's duds, and set off on a two-day urban safari ride.<br />
At the Museum of Natural History, we gawked at dinosaur bones and extravagant, taxidermic displays. Tag and I were especially fascinated by Native American survival techniques, weapons, and smoking implements. The Hall of Biodiversity blew me away for the second time in my life.<br />
Afterward, we got some 'za (pizza) and made our way to Central Park. Everyone was getting fit and/or looking picturesque with their kids (except, as is always the case in NYC, for the visibly crazy and the homeless).<br />
I separated to meet up with Carina, my good friend, currently studying at NYU. I was struck by how we had met in the fifth grade (I was her dad, a mad scientist, in the Cosmos Program's annual play) and then found ourselves leading drastically different lives, sharing information on our old friends, something that, largely, has been scattered and exists in the beforetime (December will be glorious).<br />
That night, the Bastards (with T-Mellow, an honorary member) and Jesse & Co. hit the town! We bar-hopped, saw the hipsters, bar scenes, and some bands. Tag and I enjoyed the view of Manhattan from Brooklyn (probably my favorite attraction of the whole trip).<br />
As intended, we passed out too late and awoke too early. While the others went to Chinatown, I headed for Columbia University to visit Blake, my friend from preschool. I relied too heavily on my faulty GPS and got lost within the subway system, but after consulting a map (the trail's taught me a lot, but not that much), I finally surfaced at Columbia, only two hours (or so) late! The Columbia campus is by far my favorite. I liked checking it out in the rain.<br />
Some more confused subway navigation, a game of phone tag, and wandering in the rain, and I met up with Carina to get food and hang with her college buds. Mamoun's Mediterranean restaurant was just the cheap New York joint I'd been pining for (awesome tamarind smoothie).<br />
I wound up in Times Square on my adventure home. It was practically empty and entirely quiet. It was magical to have it to myself, with all the volume turned down, and the rhythms of the cycling ads, the colors diffused into the drizzle, playing in all directions.<br />
New York was phenomenal, but we were all satisfied by the second day. We rode the commuter train to Pawling, NY, somehow more exhausted than when we arrived.<br />
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhoneGoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-72239344691542377162011-10-15T12:06:00.000-07:002011-10-15T12:06:01.555-07:00Miscellaneous Pictures from T-Mellow<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mZMUGykJKYMyTNfqSUiARoQeQtoSVv9z5C9GkhzrEWSWpZdTiO3zu_56vSM55Naypfjl3hbUSYb2klMmdInUwZNmmKOf_tnSRwS_oryoUld4RKKnqTt2pbyacBL_hTQMD9082pv-ZLY/s1600/SAM_0149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mZMUGykJKYMyTNfqSUiARoQeQtoSVv9z5C9GkhzrEWSWpZdTiO3zu_56vSM55Naypfjl3hbUSYb2klMmdInUwZNmmKOf_tnSRwS_oryoUld4RKKnqTt2pbyacBL_hTQMD9082pv-ZLY/s400/SAM_0149.JPG" width="400px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">A Bastard showdown near Ten-Mile Mountain in New York. Nearby kayakers witnessed the action.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_z7gx5kyT-cF7yR_jfLB_T9QsJW5E6xvJC1IkHGP9h7uWsA8sATOucFsALhO0f7aO3Gufn1_247_iqjd9yCBCPsVbSztsBr10dA0W_HH0P1_9Wky60b2KMTVeupOA6gxy9TNqz3_1Vs/s1600/SAM_0058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_z7gx5kyT-cF7yR_jfLB_T9QsJW5E6xvJC1IkHGP9h7uWsA8sATOucFsALhO0f7aO3Gufn1_247_iqjd9yCBCPsVbSztsBr10dA0W_HH0P1_9Wky60b2KMTVeupOA6gxy9TNqz3_1Vs/s320/SAM_0058.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made friends with some campers from HP Woodlawn High School, an alternative public school where the student body gets to vote to determine aspects of their curriculum.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDyBBBgyAVsUU2nQnYWUNUKW64PP_2EFliYwsVlOQmPuRn27ABKvIfNmUKvy1mx_GfsxC8rJWWQ4repLrmwOaLlhYGJPlwoztZQoeuljIE-7wlR0At7ceHf3loFgdCnsGCcM_F_F7XUX0/s1600/SAM_0059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDyBBBgyAVsUU2nQnYWUNUKW64PP_2EFliYwsVlOQmPuRn27ABKvIfNmUKvy1mx_GfsxC8rJWWQ4repLrmwOaLlhYGJPlwoztZQoeuljIE-7wlR0At7ceHf3loFgdCnsGCcM_F_F7XUX0/s320/SAM_0059.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyZMVgGka-ziy6evpoR-tGSq7kwllBG1y97bRXeYuK7Qkus6lUBXRfsqG0_aCvr7SUv8mOachrG_BSBaVj9fGhuKW_OUB1Mh353Pe7K52ZRwUwAKzR0AiO8SNFaCpAwELzFmIaNMvw6g/s1600/SAM_0048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyZMVgGka-ziy6evpoR-tGSq7kwllBG1y97bRXeYuK7Qkus6lUBXRfsqG0_aCvr7SUv8mOachrG_BSBaVj9fGhuKW_OUB1Mh353Pe7K52ZRwUwAKzR0AiO8SNFaCpAwELzFmIaNMvw6g/s320/SAM_0048.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-73596010540103456682011-10-11T11:06:00.000-07:002011-10-11T12:15:50.092-07:00Hey, we're in the news!This is from a recent edition of "The Journal," a West Virginia Newspaper. Here's the link: <a href="http://www.journal-news.net/page/content.detail/id/568497/Freedom-s-Run-has-variety.html?nav=5009">http://www.journal-news.net/page/content.detail/id/568497/Freedom-s-Run-has-variety.html?nav=5009</a><br />
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<h1 class="entry-title padBtm"><i>Freedom’s Run has variety</i></h1><h3 class="padBtm"><i>Runners of all ages, experience participate in third annual event</i></h3><h5 class="updated dtstamp" id="dspDetail_byLine" title="2011-10-02T17:19:45Z"><i>October 2, 2011</i></h5><div class="padBtm txtSmaller"> <i><span class="author vcard"> <span class="fn"> By Rick Kozlowski, Sports Editor - Journal Sports Editor</span></span></i></div><div class="entry-content" id="storyBody"> <i>SHEPHERDSTOWN - A quartet of young men took a day off from their Maine-to-Georgia hike along the Appalachian Trail and ran a marathon on Saturday.</i><br />
<i>Running his first 26.1-mile race, Dylan Ricke of Miami, Fla., finished only 14 minutes behind champion Tal Angelosant of Washington, D.C., during a rainy and chilly day of races at the third annual Freedom's Run.</i><br />
<i>"The ridiculous factor is what attracted us; it seemed far-fetched," said Ricke, who averages about 16 miles hiking each day in a quest of becoming the second member of his family to traverse the 2,181 miles of the Appalachian Trail.</i><br />
<i>Winning might've seemed a bit far-fetched for Angelosante, running his 28th marathon and first Freedom's Run.</i><br />
<i>He's 52.</i><br />
<i>"I wouldn't say I'm an inspiration," Angelosante said. "It just says you can still run pretty good into your 50s."</i><br />
<i>A two-time marathon winner previously - "when I was younger," he said - Angelosante hoped to win his age group, not the whole race.</i><br />
<i>"I got ahead at mile two," Angelosante said. "I never thought I would win until about mile 25. I kept expecting someone to come up on me."</i><br />
<i>Angelosante finished the race in 2 hours, 57 minutes, 34 seconds, two minutes ahead of 29-year-old Migel Perez (2:59:52). Thirty-two-year-old Brian Smith came in third with a time of 3:00:40.</i><br />
<i>"This really is a terrific course and really a well-run race," Angelosante said. "Aside from the rain and the hills at the end, it was really a fantastic experience."</i><br />
<i>The rain wasn't a factor in Angelosante's view.</i><br />
<i>"There's a certain exuberance in running," he said. "You don't let (the rain) bother you until you cross the finish line."</i><br />
<i>As runners finished their races, there was plenty of hustling to get into warm cars and out of the cold, damp clothing on the wet and raw morning.</i><br />
<i>Women's marathon champion Jacqueline Palmer, 23, of Frederick, Md., wore her commemorative Boston Marathon jacket from the 2010 race, though was still in her running shorts at the awards ceremony held a couple of hours after most of the runners had finished their races.</i><br />
<i>She and Angelosante both received plaques from the Road Runners Club of America as regional champions, a designation the Freedom's Run marathon received, during the postrace celebration held at the Bavarian Inn.</i><br />
<i>"I actually liked the weather," Palmer said. "I run best in the cold. I just have a little wet feet."</i><br />
<i>She chose to use the race as a "training run" for the JFK 50-miler about seven weeks from now.</i><br />
<i>"I wasn't really expecting that," Palmer said of her victory.</i><br />
<i>She completed the course in a record time of 3:18:42, less than a minute ahead of 38-year-old Victoria Grieve (3:19:20). Third-place finisher Shawn Loy crossed the line in 3:25:24.</i><br />
<i>Mandana Mortazavi held the previous record of 3:28:33 set in the first even in 2009.</i><br />
<i>"It was definitely challenging to pace myself in the beginning," Palmer said. "(The win) lets me know I paced myself well."</i><br />
<i>Palmer's time over the second 13 miles was faster than her first 13 miles.</i><br />
<i>Freedom's Run was her sixth marathon, and she'll be back at Boston next April.</i><br />
<i>Half marathon record-holder David Hryniak of Chesapeake, Va., finished second to Charlie Ban. Erik Hinrichsen was third.</i><br />
<i>In the women's half marathon, Lori Jandreau defeated former Jefferson High School standout Michelle Van Horn. Molly Matala was third.</i><br />
<i>Times weren't available in the half marathon.</i><br />
<i>Winners in the 10-kilometer race included Stephen Malcolm, 25,and Kelly Buriak, 27.</i><br />
<i>Malcolm completed the 6.2 miles in 39:05, 13 seconds ahead of runner-up Owen Faris and about a minute over Harry Linde, 52, in third.</i><br />
<i>Buriak ran her race in 41.45, winning by 34 seconds over Shauna Hanley (42:19). Heidi Marks ran 43:28 for third.</i><br />
<i>Martinsburg's Brad Sponaugle won the 5K, while 13-year-old Abby Colbert claimed the female division with a one-second victory over 8-year-old Fiona Brummor.</i><br />
<i>Sponaugle normally runs in the half marathon, but he opted for the shorter race as he recovers from a distance relay event held last weekend. In such racers, runners cover a segment of a race before giving away to a teammate for the next segment, and so on, over the course of about 24 hours.</i><br />
<i>"I was getting a run in," said Sponaugle, 31, who finished in 18:13 and hurried off quickly to get warm and dry, missing the awards assembly.</i><br />
<i>Runner-up Jeremiah Downie finished in 19:45 and Mark Schmitt ran third in 19:57.</i><br />
<i>Corbett completed the 3.1 miles in 20:02 and Brummer 20:03. Twenty-two-year-old Lindsey Hollenshead finished in 22:23 for third.</i><br />
<i>Many other youngsters ran in a one-mile fun run.</i><br />
<i>Race co-director Dr. Mark Cucuzezella urged on the youngsters as they finished the race on a slight uphill, hollering over the loudspeaker as rain fell harder, "You're not cold; you're having a good time."</i><br />
<i>Which is part of the premise of the race - enjoyment and health.</i><br />
<i>And for a group of four, a break in their hiking routine.</i></div>GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-34980138206831186352011-10-11T10:47:00.000-07:002013-11-01T19:05:50.176-07:00Wooooow photos!GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-10673526261468131402011-09-13T17:43:00.001-07:002011-09-13T17:45:51.868-07:00Bird Cage, MA, to Salisbury, CN"How's it shakin'!?" from Wawayanda State Park, New Jersey! Right now I'm lounging in the shelter, listening to squirrels discard nut shells onto the roof from an overhanging tree. Tag's thoroughly enjoying "The Windchime Legacy", the "greatest super-thriller of the year (1981)."<br />
Alright, story time:<br />
Sadly, Hurricane Irene finally passed, putting our stay at the Bird Cage to an end. The next morning, Rob drove us up to the trailhead to, strangely enough, continue walking.<br />
Accompanied by our new buddies, Easy, a chillin' Australian dude, and Moose, a funny Canadian dude, we trekked a whopping eleven miles to Upper Goose Pond Cabin to accept some well-earned lodging (it was actually a pleasant day, if the sarcasm wasn't detected).<br />
The free cabin, managed by the AMC, the same group that runs the huts in the Whites, earns its trail-fame by offering free pancake breakfasts every morning. To our surprise, it's two stories tall, with bunk beds, a comfy porch, and a jolly caretaker- all just a minute away from a beautiful lake! That whole day I'd been admiring the trail life, kind of basking in the awesome-y glow of my whole lifestyle, and the lake at sunset really wrapped it all up. I had fun watching the shadows creep up the tree trunks, little fish huddle under the docked canoe, and a spindly spider walk across the water onto the dock (it looked like it was fumbling over slick ice).<br />
A few days earlier, in the Bird Cage basement, we finally crafted our instruments of warfare. Noodle and broom handle joined together in ill-fated matrimony (with duct tape). As it turned out, even the cheerful cabin couldn't prevent the violence. Between the Upper Goose Pond bunk beds, the first strike was served, igniting a new, dark (so, so dark) phase of the Tag/Dylan rivalry.<br />
HAJIME!<br />
Unfortunately, Tag's a learnéd axeman, a veteran of many a noodle war. I continue to walk the path of the warrior, always eager to face my enemy on the battlefield, despite the often-discouraging results.<br />
Like a wandering samurai (from the future), I can always find solace from the inhumanities of man in the tranquility of nature. The landscape continued to be dominated by little towns and farms. It's endlessly fascinating to observe, from a rocky outcropping, perhaps, the gradual, muted relationship between man and nature. It comes at a price, though. We seem to pass a road every hour or two, we can hear them humming half of the time, and there's always some town propped up in the middle of our otherwise-forested vistas. It's just an aesthetic really, I've never truly been all that distanced from civilization, but I wouldn't mind more remoteness. For these reasons, Maine has returned to my #1 favorite state designation, taking Vermont's place.<br />
We moved along, climbing over a bunch of hill/mountains every day. We'd pass through the semi-dark browns and greens of the pines, through the blazing yellows and blues of open farmland, and reach shelter, always at sunset, as the coldness set in.<br />
Hurricane Irene didn't affect us much, except for one occasion. Everyone else noticed a sign informing hikers of a re-routed section due to flooding. I must have pranced right by it. Anyway, I wound up wading through waist-deep water through a flooded field for a quarter of a mile, watching bug/fish zipping by under the surface, totally grossed out, but determined to follow the trail through its entirety. The final portion of the field was too deep for me to cross without endangering my electronics. After trying to cross three times, balancing on fallen trees, poking around with my poles, I decided to backtrack and find another route (some muddy road, probably meant for tractors).<br />
Soon enough, we were walking over the fields and into Connecticut. The Mass./Conn. border lies along a swift ravine. It was great rock-hopping alongside the dynamic watercourse. Even greater, I spotted two bobcats standing next to the river. One of them noticed me and quickly slinked away into the rocks. The other one wondered where its companion was (or maybe it wanted its mom), so it made this cute crying sound for a while, looking around as if searching for someone. I was enamored by the little Simba, but I didn't know anything about bobcats, including how big adults are, so I figured I'd scram. I beatboxed a few hundred yards down the trail, waiting for Bob White and Jeff, and after consulting them on the bobcats, we pressed on.<br />
The crew hiked enthusiastically, eager to reach Salisbury, Connecticut, where Bob White's parents arranged to meet n' feed us at a nearby state park, where they would be "glamping" (short for "glamorously camping", a fad, allegedly, although the Ricke's, and Bob White's fam, have been doin' it right for years now).<br />
It was freaking glamorous. They had extra tents, soda, a mom, and two pro chefs strategizing over the stove (they're real foodies, our kind of people). To our surprise, we got to stay for two nights, and slackpacked during the day.<br />
It's unbelievably liberating to slack pack. It feels effortless, to hover down the trail without a backpack to anchor you down, dictate your speed, and effect your balance.<br />
That day, I spotted four deer, walking across a road into the woods. I followed them in and stared at them for a bit. They can REALLY hover, all fleet and light-footed and what not. I thought that was a remarkable sighting, but I've seen at least twelve more deer since then, all within three days. At this point, I just walk right by them, laughing inwardly at their petrified indecision to flee or not.<br />
Later that day, I watched a vintage car festival from a mountaintop. It was neat to watch them do laps around a racetrack, their motors revving off the mountains. Tag got to watch some bi-planes perform an airshow at eye-level. It was a grand couple of days, with grander evenings at the campsite dinner table.<br />
Well, on that note, I conclude yet another chapter of the epic journey! Stay tuned for hiker bios, an outline of a typical day, photos (when we can upload them at a library), and more!<br />
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />
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P.S.- Knock knock!<br />
Who's there?<br />
Don't forget to donate to UNICEF! Thanks!GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-30223982066286742812011-09-13T08:47:00.001-07:002011-09-13T08:50:20.495-07:00Mt. Greylock to Dalton/ the BirdCage (Mass.)Plain ole' "Hello!" from Graymoor Monastery, New York! Right now I'm chilling in an open structure on the edge of the monastery baseball field. They've let wayward souls drop by ever since a thru-hiker asked to stay the night back in the seventies.<br />
At the conclusion of our previous episode, I had just left Bennington, home of the Vortex hiker hostel. There's a lot to cover, the usual deal, so here we go!<br />
The Trio, plus Milk Carton, hiked onward, out of Vermont and into Massachusetts. We enjoyed the view from Mt. Greylock, the largest mountain in the state. I felt smelly climbing up the lookout tower's spiral staircase, crammed next to so many fragrant tourists (daypackers always smell awesome). Some of them were extra-vocal about how difficult the stairs were, to my disbelief.<br />
We grouped up at the base of the tower to snack and met a bunch of incoming-Yale-freshmen on a hiking program (it seemed like a bonding/ leadership sorta' thing). They were very bubbly and laugh-y and social. One of them said that he would love to do the trail, but that he couldn't imagine "finding the time." Tag and I were skeptical, we were all 18 after all, and in the same stage of life. We figured that he probably couldn't imagine that he already had the time.<br />
For hundreds of miles, we'd heard about "The Birdcage", a free hiker hostel in Dalton, MA, with a shower, movies, free soda, and cool owners. Tag and I were especially psyched for the soda (soda fountains are my primary motivation for getting to town). We called the owner, Rob, to get a reservation. I had left my backup battery at The Vortex, and I knew that most hostel owners had each other's numbers (so they can warn each other about troublesome guests), so I asked Rob for the Vortex's number with the intention of getting the battery mailed to me down the trail. As it turned out, Rob was waiting at the trailhead to pick us up and had driven to Bennington to retrieve my battery (what!?). Plus, he had a cooler of soda in the cab. <br />
That was just a precursor for all he would do for us. Our stay was elongated by Hurricane Irene (the trail was "closed" during the storm, according to officials), so we wound up staying for four nights. Meanwhile, we got to slack-pack upwards of thirty miles (Rob continually drove us out to the trailhead to do so), resupply at the local Price Chopper, buy new shoes (Tag got five-fingered shoes, Coach got Trail Runners), and shower (multiple times). Somehow, we found the time to watch 15-20 movies. Tag and I drank at least 12 sodas each (we helped them restock, by the way). I got to return the favor by weed-whacking the backyard, digging trenches to reroute water during the hurricane, and water-vacuuming the basement, but the exchange is still pretty one-sided.<br />
The cage has been serving hikers for fifteen years, ever since Rob picked up a lost hiker and word started to spread. As manager of the local Shell station, he's made a point to employ and befriend troubled teens over the years. His kitchen wall is full of Polaroid pictures of his past employees. Grandma Nance, an extra-endearing resident, and "mother" to the guests, likes to tell the boy's stories, and how Rob helped them out. Besides the photos of past employees, Rob records all his house guests in large photo albums. It was fun to spot our pals in this year's book.<br />
The crew decided to take advantage of a BirdCage tradition and get free Mohawk hair cuts. It was hard not to laugh during my public mohawk-ing. There's something fraternal, and vaguely military, about our matching doo's. Pretty bad ass (but not as bad ass as this one guy who got half of his head, beard, stache, and chest hair cut in an alternating pattern).<br />
I'm really backed-up on stuff to write about, so I think I'll break everything up into little episodes. Stay tuned for the next exciting addition to the saga!<br />
Aaaaaand don't forget to donate to UNICEF! Thanks so much to everyone who already has.<br />
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhoneGoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-47774615953507714022011-08-23T08:48:00.001-07:002011-08-23T08:48:49.146-07:00Day 56"High five" from Bennington, Vermont! Right now I'm dressed in a makeshift garbage bag skirt, waiting on a load at the local laundromat. The skirt's a bit translucent, but I'm assured by the fact that public nudity isn't illegal in Vermont (something I learned after Bob White encountered a naked hiker in the Green Mountains).<br />But I'll get to the Green Mountains later. In my last post, I was just about to leave the Whites. The final peak, Mount Moosilaukee, was unbelievable. The northern side was steep and slick, especially with the moisture of a nearby cascade, which accompanied most of the climb. We relied on wooden steps and metal rails fixed into the rock face. My quad stress had only worsened over time, so it was, you know, painstaking, but I eventually reached the shelter halfway up the mountain.<br />The sight of an old woman, an ex-thru-hiker, moving at half my speed, which was already halved by my quads, reduced my self pity considerably. She showed up at the shelter eager to discuss absolutely anything trail-related, with an extreme opinion about everything. It was annoying at first, but it became kind of endearing, how much the trail society affected her and how she tried so much to be involved.<br />Earlier that day, I met Cimarron, an 88-year-old man out to beat the record for the oldest thru-hike. He set the record at 82, but then someone one-upped it, allegedly by waiting at the base of Katahdin until his 83rd birthday before making the summit.<br />Cimarron looked 88. Everyone greeted him with reserved concern, especially when his opening line was always something along the lines of, "Does it get any easier!?" But he had high spirits. He'd tried to reclaim his title multiple times, but every time he returned home because of an injury, only to try again within a year or two. He's already fallen a few times this year, with fresh stitches on his head. He seemed jokingly self-conscious of all this when I met him, mentioning how his daughter sent him a bike helmet in the mail and how the trail seemed to be harder and harder every year.<br />The next day, we summited Moosilaukee. The summit was wide open, covered in dry grass, not the usual lichens, with an expansive view partially covered in a thin layer of cloud. Baller.<br />Most importantly, the mountain signified that the Moosilaukee Monster Pizza Challenge was within reach. Located at the Green House Restaurant, which runs entirely on vegetable oil, the 8-pound pizza, with 5 inches of vertical height (due to the amount of toppings) has defeated countless hikers and non-hikers alike. Defying the odds, Tag and Coach slew the beast.<br />The store owner was adamant about not barfing on the property, especially in their front garden, but, as it turned out, it was impossible not to do both (owner guy: "Not in the flowers! Not in the flowers!"). I shuffled the spillage into the gravel driveway as the victors retreated off the property, the owner hovering from the second story window (he was pretty cool throughout the contest, razzing the dudes a bit, but seemed apprehensive, perhaps wisely, about puke the whole time). The fight was only half over at that point. After an hour of recuperation in the grass off the road (and abrupt dashes into the bushes to hurl) the dudes stood triumphant. <br />Coach bought a 12-pack to celebrate.<br />The next day we found another occasion to gorge ourselves, this time at the Happy Hiker Hostel, located in Glencliff, New Hampshire. Fat Chap, a hostel regular, had a two-day birthday celebration and word spread of free food, provided by Miss Janet, a renowned trail angel with killer culinary skills and a fun Tennessee accent. The backyard filled up with hikers and neighbors in what felt like a rag-tag family holiday. We grouped-up in their living room and watched Inglorious Basterds, quoting our favorite parts throughout. Coach determined to change his name to "Aldo the Apache", Brad Pitt's character, but he's still "Coach" for Tag and me. We hitched back to the trail and passed out with bloated bellies.<br />The next day, we finally left the Whites behind us. The change in difficulty was immediate. We found ourselves cruising over gradual hills and soft ground, padded over with pine nettles. The trail passed through thin forest, mostly large pine trees, with a thin, wide canopy. It felt accommodating, tended-to, almost domestic, especially the occasional orchards. We crossed more fields than usual. Coming out of the woods, they seem saturated in color. I enjoyed the wildflowers and berries and isolated trees, with their leaves all shimmery in the wind.<br />Our next town, Hanover, home to Dartmouth, an Ivy League school ("OoOoOoh"), was a real treat, and my favorite so far. It was funny to pop out of the woods only a few yards from Dartmouth's football field. The trail passes right through the town. It was convenient and added something more broadly travel-oriented to the experience, in my opinion. We lolly-gagged around town and enjoyed the free handouts that some of the businesses offer thru-hikers, including coffee and candy bars (the coffee was freaking exhilarating, due in part to my physical exhaustion).<br />The college scene was oddly familiar, yet distant. It was something to glimpse all the excitable kids, the styles, the hang-outs, the austere academic buildings, especially as all my ex-peers start migrating around the country to begin that period of their lives. <br />T-Mellow and I visited the local farmer's market, ate fresh produce (easily the most coveted food item among thru-hikers) and chatted with curious pedestrians. All our closest Sobo friends wound up in Hanover at the same time, so we ate together, then returned to the edge of the woods to camp overnight.<br />With the Whites behind us, I was eager to get moving. After some calculations, I realized that we'd have to do more than 16 miles everyday to reach Springer before Thanksgiving. The others seemed less inclined to accelerate, at least as quickly, so I spent a few hours that morning deliberating about whether to get a move on and reunite with them down the road or not (I'd at least talk with them in Killington, 30 miles down the trail, before decisively separating and moving forward). They assured me that we'd move faster (and we have), but that they didn't want to pass up any attractions along the trail. Our pace feels natural, but I suspect that we'll reach Springer in December, colder than otherwise. Be assured, I'll definitely get home before Christmas, that's beyond question.<br />The holidays have a certain halo in my mind, some combination of old friends and family and homey comfort. I have surprisingly fond thoughts for certain things, like jogging around the neighborhood and dropping by my friends' houses, with their particular vibes and quirks. It'll be great to complete the trail and have so much to do immediately after.<br />Five miles out of Hanover, we crossed the state border and found ourselves in Vermont. It's just how I imagined it: wide pastures, quaint farms, tame woods, syrup tubes strung between the maple trees, cows- the whole deal. Northern Vermont is probably my favorite part so far. I guess I prefer its mundane novelties to the grandeur of the north. Besides, it reminds me of the Shire from The Lord of the Rings (I was re-reading The Fellowship for a while, by the way.).<br />We visited The Ice Cream Man, a pleasant old fella' who gives free ice cream (or fruit Popsicles) to thru-hikers from his front porch, just a few yards off the trail. He also sells soda and collects data on the hikers who pass through. We talked with him about his whole operation, played a fierce game of croquet in his backyard (Coach knocked Tag's ball out of its place from half court, then made the winning shot), then continued to chat over drinks on his back porch. His kids hiked the AT and he held all us hikers in high regard, sharing some beliefs about the virtues it takes and how something "like guardian angels" seems to guide us. It was lovely and lofty, full of fatherly pride. Personally, I don't think of the trail as much more than a trail, but I enjoy hearing other people's ideas, or plain, ole' notions, indulging in the aesthetics and sentiments and whatnot. <br />Some more hiking (whatever) and we reached Killington, Vermont. We hitched in and camped across the street from the Long Trail Inn and Tavern. We watched an Irish Folk band with the tourists and took advantage of a $125 tab that Bob White scored from her old boss as a parting gift.<br />It rained for the next day and a half. It was actually pretty refreshing. It waterlogged my feet, but that wasn't so bad as long as I kept re-soaking them in new puddles, so my socks never plastered against them and caused irritation. The problems came when we paused. The cold would sneak up on us, and moving would cause icy water to settle into new places. We actually moved faster than average on that day, just to keep warm.<br />On Mount Killington, we met Milk Carton, a lively chick and a bit of a legend among the Sobos this season. In the Hundred Mile Wilderness, she failed to call her parents within 48 hours, so on the 49th hour they leapt into action and drove from their home in New Jersey all the way to the wilderness (in Maine) to look for her personally. The pair, aided by park rangers, questioned thru-hikers about the maybe-missing girl. Plenty of folks knew about the search before word reached Milk Carton (named after the missing kids on milk cartons, get it?).<br />She's been a fun addition, assaulting us with sassy remarks and inciting trivial debate whenever possible.<br />We hitched into Rutland, a town adjacent to Killington, and got to crash at Milk's friend, Sam's, bachelor pad (how do you do that, grammatically speaking? I hope it includes commas). It reminded me of my siblings' college residences, with collected pieces of furniture, cool, artsy posters, and a big couch. We were especially fond of his surround sound system, installed throughout the apartment, so you could jam out between rooms, uninterrupted. The computer and the coffee table books absorbed my attention, so I ended up falling asleep at 2 AM, the night before an 18-miler, in classic high school fashion.<br />Taggy-boy and I have bit of a rivalry thing going on, and after an especially bitter episode of back-talking each other, Coach recommended that we settle things in an old school, thuggish rap battle. For two weeks, between Moosilaukee and the Southern Green Mountains, we dissed each other's rap skills and general gangsterdom, until the day of the battle, August 20th, finally arrived. We lit the camp fire, threw together a three-judge panel, then spat lyrical venom for three 30-second sessions. I would share the video, but the obscenity (and the carnage) would probably scare my audience away and thwart my humanitarian ambitions.<br />It was a fine show, I claimed victory, but it was a mere battle in a war that may never truly end (we're actually going to make little weapons out of broom handles and water noodles and duke it out in the woods. Tag's gonna' be a Native American warrior, I'm gonna' be a future samurai, and milk carton's gonna' be a Jedi (which, come to think of it, is kind of like a future samurai, except they're from "long ago," in the past, but whatever).).<br />The next day, we hiked through a severe thunder storm, more intense, but short-lived, than the one on Mount Killington. I enjoyed stomping down the trail, suddenly a rapid stream, singing between the lightning bursts. Shortly after the rain, Tag and I spotted two rabbits ( : D ) and a moose within five minutes. It was a high-concentration, animal-spotting situation. The moose was very close, only a few feet, and stared us down as we passed.<br />That night, we hitched into Bennington to stay at the the word-of-mouth hostel, The Vortex (because it sucks hikers in and distracts them from their goals). It was awesome. The owners, a couple of artists, let hikers drift in and out of the property, after a brief introduction, of course. We mostly dwell in the back shed, a roomy building with a pool table and lots of grateful letters from old guests on the walls. I got to sleep upstairs with some others and enjoyed all the miscellaneous items, compilation props, and mounted pieces throughout the house and in the wife's studio. During the day, I heard the dad jamming with his nephew in their fully-equipped music studio, with exotic percussion instruments to boot.<br />Since starting this post, I've moved from the laundromat, to spots around Bennington, and back to the trail, typing between activities. Now I'm the only one awake in the shelter, tapping away in the top bunk (is this information valuable? Whatever.).<br />Anyway, I'm gonna' hit the hay, but stay tuned for the next exciting entry! And please donate to UNICEF, it's THE thing to do!<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br /><br />P.S.- Tag saw a deer between Bennington and this shelter. He said he might as well be called "freaking Grizzly Adams."<br />GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-9419218983562124142011-08-10T18:58:00.001-07:002011-08-10T18:58:36.364-07:00More pics<br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5639411930461476210'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-V__oqnbLwIA/TkM3RZlBlXI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/0dsBRFEBMjs/s288/7.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Tag consulting the guide on top of Saddleback ridge in Maine.<br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5639411948841813650'><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-lE8g_qWth7g/TkM3SeDPRpI/AAAAAAAAAHU/M4GWvPsyAtI/s288/6.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Rabbit chilling in the fireplace.<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-81651554247155669292011-08-10T15:20:00.000-07:002011-08-10T15:24:38.316-07:00Pictures for Previous Post<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRD-cc3pdFCSAEnVXafhKq_uxxniZi3pnm-xRakKBgqBXVR0NtVYcE16qQ7ms6N6bD4EfL7BA2P5sObwbU3HfTjIG6QTn8Ygjq5fCPCdKrCOPEUimN0z2jobAiakhSDjLWs-LsYfsIzo/s1600/198659_2306941593325_1242866799_2793527_614470_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRD-cc3pdFCSAEnVXafhKq_uxxniZi3pnm-xRakKBgqBXVR0NtVYcE16qQ7ms6N6bD4EfL7BA2P5sObwbU3HfTjIG6QTn8Ygjq5fCPCdKrCOPEUimN0z2jobAiakhSDjLWs-LsYfsIzo/s320/198659_2306941593325_1242866799_2793527_614470_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">View from somewhere in the Whites.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRb1AzuNvx9negaKWQJ4FKXcQNMn79BMckpMRee25dtBQzLD5pOQ2kw6slsyshxuFHhlUZhIPJvcAeYtvFFV0aRqLTHrGkwgwZCQ3wbW7E2DjkXDDgneKrc_tCY68QxUVSWfmbhfCDbfI/s1600/223744_2306943873382_1242866799_2793537_1998788_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRb1AzuNvx9negaKWQJ4FKXcQNMn79BMckpMRee25dtBQzLD5pOQ2kw6slsyshxuFHhlUZhIPJvcAeYtvFFV0aRqLTHrGkwgwZCQ3wbW7E2DjkXDDgneKrc_tCY68QxUVSWfmbhfCDbfI/s320/223744_2306943873382_1242866799_2793537_1998788_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Free food at the Happy Hiker's Hostel outside of Glencliff, NH! It was Fat Chap's birthday. He's a hostel regular, so Ms. Janet, an awesome lady, made a spread for hikers passing through. It was like a family holiday or something.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug2AO108aVrpsR9ZGHEXV4Pw5YyKUzL-j7leBMgAfzJe8xIu-8kjqupHwJjz-Q1z_wdZoXia6ZVhG2tRm9vTxnRMn8gtnLNC-snz6U4oseXwAWoJsV5nKCxbWmRYUYumY3DJmZWqT4hM/s1600/224559_2306934633151_1242866799_2793493_3075431_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug2AO108aVrpsR9ZGHEXV4Pw5YyKUzL-j7leBMgAfzJe8xIu-8kjqupHwJjz-Q1z_wdZoXia6ZVhG2tRm9vTxnRMn8gtnLNC-snz6U4oseXwAWoJsV5nKCxbWmRYUYumY3DJmZWqT4hM/s320/224559_2306934633151_1242866799_2793493_3075431_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I don't remember where this was...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vUEiWqstwkV4BeN-233X24jYf9iHeQZ6ckrLQt17eWxOSR5d_Xn8ItGS4DTvjHzNyQy4UnjtFTUcZ7blJR-pwGdvPUqCPK2houe8nNTGyh6PUMQLMzwDmVCtTH29Wr3aAEWOvf0zHg8/s1600/224584_2306935753179_1242866799_2793501_1859500_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vUEiWqstwkV4BeN-233X24jYf9iHeQZ6ckrLQt17eWxOSR5d_Xn8ItGS4DTvjHzNyQy4UnjtFTUcZ7blJR-pwGdvPUqCPK2houe8nNTGyh6PUMQLMzwDmVCtTH29Wr3aAEWOvf0zHg8/s320/224584_2306935753179_1242866799_2793501_1859500_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On the Maine/New Hampshire border.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIX-VrA88MSWZK1uowv9DotO2FcJGS3uLisow32llq3nVrZlEuAnVBHB4k7bMbFrozdOu9jBHbrAEzybjzO8g1SZeWNfQerNte9ayyqWxsUd-DW_slky0X4hSuPBA_xzPOEZ-spxXTUk/s1600/262855_2306944873407_1242866799_2793542_774298_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIX-VrA88MSWZK1uowv9DotO2FcJGS3uLisow32llq3nVrZlEuAnVBHB4k7bMbFrozdOu9jBHbrAEzybjzO8g1SZeWNfQerNte9ayyqWxsUd-DW_slky0X4hSuPBA_xzPOEZ-spxXTUk/s320/262855_2306944873407_1242866799_2793542_774298_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Bob White and me getting our munch on.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vFO1GCGAzzLMA6r-MTHaONPlEwHpqPS0pOndSoDedqnQTflfKKfdJzl-syDcTIZIQXia8IlfJk8JRx8cyzMoSckrxaK1gb8arULQ65g8f4qXiDR6zPJj3pq_10VY0RCvSIVVoCHx0BM/s1600/267362_2306936353194_1242866799_2793503_7971536_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vFO1GCGAzzLMA6r-MTHaONPlEwHpqPS0pOndSoDedqnQTflfKKfdJzl-syDcTIZIQXia8IlfJk8JRx8cyzMoSckrxaK1gb8arULQ65g8f4qXiDR6zPJj3pq_10VY0RCvSIVVoCHx0BM/s320/267362_2306936353194_1242866799_2793503_7971536_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Preston at the Maine/New Hampshire border.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vxZzyAD7SLjcWPdencuIsx9hB-eDrG4s6Wqb9yfpWD4mip9uY-0FyHS-iiieNymDjsq4pRPbAZBWjd3BnI1XZg7MuVpVbUISKYOtXw20hyphenhyphenmmpiytjjr_QBEnxAcV6uB3E1NMRDCOPvM/s1600/281648_2306941953334_1242866799_2793529_4286550_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vxZzyAD7SLjcWPdencuIsx9hB-eDrG4s6Wqb9yfpWD4mip9uY-0FyHS-iiieNymDjsq4pRPbAZBWjd3BnI1XZg7MuVpVbUISKYOtXw20hyphenhyphenmmpiytjjr_QBEnxAcV6uB3E1NMRDCOPvM/s320/281648_2306941953334_1242866799_2793529_4286550_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Chet's place in Lincoln, New Hampshire.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5TfJFB_YoWpIUW2OuDFcJMhUmKWKS864YMl1SDKQq4N11FqqFTBmKTtkQ_Ex4DAAw6qC16ViSJsN1uksNJ2y3dXAyKReYfGy3NIqPhGS8-BN8d7vIYqeYfM90tlZ-Ka5okzvnKC6-zY/s1600/284769_2306940073287_1242866799_2793519_5345096_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5TfJFB_YoWpIUW2OuDFcJMhUmKWKS864YMl1SDKQq4N11FqqFTBmKTtkQ_Ex4DAAw6qC16ViSJsN1uksNJ2y3dXAyKReYfGy3NIqPhGS8-BN8d7vIYqeYfM90tlZ-Ka5okzvnKC6-zY/s320/284769_2306940073287_1242866799_2793519_5345096_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Beautiful scenery.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUK2FQnVuzoc_YQm8guVE1vwuTCeSL84tTMu9uosH-IT65CKPjpmnvuSW34qS9bsdcFUVBYR87aCcuXECq4tjHNSG3T0EsBpdkp7echRI3milc9s3BvjlLFiu2C2pokJaxqjjvcMML7U/s1600/284859_2306933593125_1242866799_2793490_7041912_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUK2FQnVuzoc_YQm8guVE1vwuTCeSL84tTMu9uosH-IT65CKPjpmnvuSW34qS9bsdcFUVBYR87aCcuXECq4tjHNSG3T0EsBpdkp7echRI3milc9s3BvjlLFiu2C2pokJaxqjjvcMML7U/s320/284859_2306933593125_1242866799_2793490_7041912_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Giver was our book club book for a while.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3nGVsbbY_Ic0ogiv3Cg7NMBUMiTc7_77vqtHI_HsFBSJDQCEx_qLR32puPC3244t763eUqZSapLeGiAsMhXaBU6JTS4v26paV-wz741OuMoGQI9PoIfW4JddyUtjbe3Knk3LQFDSiwTQ/s1600/285022_2306936753204_1242866799_2793505_3313622_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3nGVsbbY_Ic0ogiv3Cg7NMBUMiTc7_77vqtHI_HsFBSJDQCEx_qLR32puPC3244t763eUqZSapLeGiAsMhXaBU6JTS4v26paV-wz741OuMoGQI9PoIfW4JddyUtjbe3Knk3LQFDSiwTQ/s320/285022_2306936753204_1242866799_2793505_3313622_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tag at the Maine/ New Hampshire border.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHalorQrI3TF3xVkIZoN1aYRYaU2CeKipfRUTkJ8bedwwL0ZkR4-51Mkr7haQhlvsJXP7sCXTpwkR0EY08trkbT74mvhUM1NA8QWUF-tQbKDRAylkmStmDVV-Du1scpLms80H6n_duj_s/s1600/tumblr_lpdd09eqWT1qm59wio1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHalorQrI3TF3xVkIZoN1aYRYaU2CeKipfRUTkJ8bedwwL0ZkR4-51Mkr7haQhlvsJXP7sCXTpwkR0EY08trkbT74mvhUM1NA8QWUF-tQbKDRAylkmStmDVV-Du1scpLms80H6n_duj_s/s320/tumblr_lpdd09eqWT1qm59wio1_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-U2Eo9jb1rstKOyqUZBuveeZ0-VA3ayZcmL5gq9z6-UojGuvd77GUnfLwdWYSMMD0_bK9j0mc5AW9Jfq0SNtosh8o0C1sbi5JQIGYaYqBA7jf6oGxDp-diqrPgT7MhbGgyloK0sQt3s/s1600/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-U2Eo9jb1rstKOyqUZBuveeZ0-VA3ayZcmL5gq9z6-UojGuvd77GUnfLwdWYSMMD0_bK9j0mc5AW9Jfq0SNtosh8o0C1sbi5JQIGYaYqBA7jf6oGxDp-diqrPgT7MhbGgyloK0sQt3s/s320/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio1_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NK-CPXvk0B3Tj6oTvFErUBWqyXsAqaIqHVKcj-RcToWBSHnmJBNK_UJAMtcMGfTOSvsq0D5oSQmBZp_DOMd0cWfDtmSH9QMZG1pUCtEVhyphenhyphen4RqKkkGO3WgvwF81hvstDYyaF3wW49Yhc/s1600/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio2_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NK-CPXvk0B3Tj6oTvFErUBWqyXsAqaIqHVKcj-RcToWBSHnmJBNK_UJAMtcMGfTOSvsq0D5oSQmBZp_DOMd0cWfDtmSH9QMZG1pUCtEVhyphenhyphen4RqKkkGO3WgvwF81hvstDYyaF3wW49Yhc/s320/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio2_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Trail magic with Bob White, Margot (Happy Camper), Preston (Coach), Twisted Turtle, and Tag. This was outside Andover, ME.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAJcL6YfFSFtUeIwgk27xNbvWvnOcj0L4TLPanUA27l2euW4A9c83uYywN-jwMBAkuDsLBXGVa7XvEjIzTlumib-bJPL3zqWU2D5hR4-80aFgj8DngrbedHknxbcWgPzkpA2sqzGNXJQ/s1600/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio3_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAJcL6YfFSFtUeIwgk27xNbvWvnOcj0L4TLPanUA27l2euW4A9c83uYywN-jwMBAkuDsLBXGVa7XvEjIzTlumib-bJPL3zqWU2D5hR4-80aFgj8DngrbedHknxbcWgPzkpA2sqzGNXJQ/s320/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio3_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgilQPmxHcPJ9cNiuYCCREC0FFElcEHPpDYZXyMjDVIWCBQvgfDOMqT1JJt0LBSmmq5U8L91Ddg00lsDYllmpzT-lxUPyU43ZcdroXV1h13jltbcBkZZErl3QOMefiIw4mbqFf7uFhxhAE/s1600/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio4_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgilQPmxHcPJ9cNiuYCCREC0FFElcEHPpDYZXyMjDVIWCBQvgfDOMqT1JJt0LBSmmq5U8L91Ddg00lsDYllmpzT-lxUPyU43ZcdroXV1h13jltbcBkZZErl3QOMefiIw4mbqFf7uFhxhAE/s320/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio4_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That's probably Mt. Washington in the distance, but I don't know because these are Preston's pictures.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHOdPW5j4YC-EH0-iLXKD_TE3bfFyko3yv89Z8MAlBHBnEdq8STZyo0qsn4YmH6CJ3N68rOjhuqhky9-lGEid3boDsZr3dQbLfYS3Vvo-wcE4UbuIsM6Z8iCbQcBaY6_afTgWqPnPpIM/s1600/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio5_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHOdPW5j4YC-EH0-iLXKD_TE3bfFyko3yv89Z8MAlBHBnEdq8STZyo0qsn4YmH6CJ3N68rOjhuqhky9-lGEid3boDsZr3dQbLfYS3Vvo-wcE4UbuIsM6Z8iCbQcBaY6_afTgWqPnPpIM/s320/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio5_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hitching into Bethel, ME, for some sweet Harry Potter action. It was a beautiful ride. Not a glamorous shot.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZQ0M31zEzrBAAVUvNQtCwfnzgOTaAcOQFseKf18kBTnQ63oNxRSgVWTV4HO0nId0Eiwfqd9N4JTC3nF26ywVECRf9hMedhSLmeTDwy4BgTFf_rA2vPouH-H4JB1nG4crncgAAc6iJhE/s1600/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio6_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZQ0M31zEzrBAAVUvNQtCwfnzgOTaAcOQFseKf18kBTnQ63oNxRSgVWTV4HO0nId0Eiwfqd9N4JTC3nF26ywVECRf9hMedhSLmeTDwy4BgTFf_rA2vPouH-H4JB1nG4crncgAAc6iJhE/s320/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio6_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Mahoosuc Notch!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCLWuDiGgqRJ-aBDBVDaILsF0xoj93_6SxBAFhFGrvSqHKdZr7uu_SirC01J4FE2jeV0yXqxS0m3GQ46sGpp5gBP2GDKdeTqC07BsY6QM8sWWsmiCJGFg5_UyjYxNyBiJ1GzG5ME_HZGA/s1600/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio7_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCLWuDiGgqRJ-aBDBVDaILsF0xoj93_6SxBAFhFGrvSqHKdZr7uu_SirC01J4FE2jeV0yXqxS0m3GQ46sGpp5gBP2GDKdeTqC07BsY6QM8sWWsmiCJGFg5_UyjYxNyBiJ1GzG5ME_HZGA/s320/tumblr_lpddskcfHb1qm59wio7_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It was awesome.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVlBrJJJiiNkYQVzjmJIY8T7NoYcg6VQy_gjc4jfQhM47zkfzb411iMzIaQ6FzUXGkv8td9Gke-JNuy42tkNR0LC8LbdJdYyIX1o_ilsqOVT_Heq9vrtGnByOxySgzTGSFLWc4lnQR8cU/s1600/tumblr_lpdebaf0F01qm59wio2_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVlBrJJJiiNkYQVzjmJIY8T7NoYcg6VQy_gjc4jfQhM47zkfzb411iMzIaQ6FzUXGkv8td9Gke-JNuy42tkNR0LC8LbdJdYyIX1o_ilsqOVT_Heq9vrtGnByOxySgzTGSFLWc4lnQR8cU/s320/tumblr_lpdebaf0F01qm59wio2_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Somewhere in the Whites.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCEvRSuKMhc7qjeyflgRmMkoxC23s_X1qjaneWgDn1dXBXIIhkbvktWRtL0Y_U9ub3a97mhgpw209EjZgTsACne_Vpy1YrVjnG6ZJZjTGcmNil_adZN9lW5MCkr3XsctsaNy-ctwRLcmo/s1600/tumblr_lpdebaf0F01qm59wio4_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCEvRSuKMhc7qjeyflgRmMkoxC23s_X1qjaneWgDn1dXBXIIhkbvktWRtL0Y_U9ub3a97mhgpw209EjZgTsACne_Vpy1YrVjnG6ZJZjTGcmNil_adZN9lW5MCkr3XsctsaNy-ctwRLcmo/s320/tumblr_lpdebaf0F01qm59wio4_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Somewhere in the Whites.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkWy5Tay037kxz8BhOvktJMFBa6S5Wz_ilp4yF1UoDdrNe2QgvQqCGI4xaqj8MZ4zwtnDozh_ircOUU32xWasiyP5jS3111ly87kiabHL-6HKYGATl8LJ-FrfbWIlmwhrphZhMcDgK804/s1600/tumblr_lpdebaf0F01qm59wio5_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkWy5Tay037kxz8BhOvktJMFBa6S5Wz_ilp4yF1UoDdrNe2QgvQqCGI4xaqj8MZ4zwtnDozh_ircOUU32xWasiyP5jS3111ly87kiabHL-6HKYGATl8LJ-FrfbWIlmwhrphZhMcDgK804/s320/tumblr_lpdebaf0F01qm59wio5_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Somewhere in the Whites.</div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiZMhsYFICvuRayrZDUkqdBsucyw2NAylWLbx7NzI3vBxCaJFsLu8a0nmZJEBhTQxO43FNCwTfJ-oDrognYTXbeY6qfqljolvDlMTq8NwHBjolOUFOVs8Mq3BIC9CBtIFLrfOemfkQcg/s1600/tumblr_lpdebaf0F01qm59wio6_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiZMhsYFICvuRayrZDUkqdBsucyw2NAylWLbx7NzI3vBxCaJFsLu8a0nmZJEBhTQxO43FNCwTfJ-oDrognYTXbeY6qfqljolvDlMTq8NwHBjolOUFOVs8Mq3BIC9CBtIFLrfOemfkQcg/s320/tumblr_lpdebaf0F01qm59wio6_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuaxx_wzb6W607Kk5jYQK0989UpItkFiX_cYaGnXnKLjy0AhEYKr_NaUf-uJp0eRYoGXqYOW26w7JZDIpvWKbfoeAyGHOApFRCiaIYHWt6hdDUIuw7YTpXGjy736hs_D60NRpr8kAeC34/s1600/tumblr_lpdebaf0F01qm59wio7_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuaxx_wzb6W607Kk5jYQK0989UpItkFiX_cYaGnXnKLjy0AhEYKr_NaUf-uJp0eRYoGXqYOW26w7JZDIpvWKbfoeAyGHOApFRCiaIYHWt6hdDUIuw7YTpXGjy736hs_D60NRpr8kAeC34/s320/tumblr_lpdebaf0F01qm59wio7_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Outside the Lakes of the Clouds Hut in the Whites, 1.5 miles from the summit of Mt. Washington.</div>GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-69550319976038251972011-08-03T11:47:00.001-07:002011-08-03T11:47:10.270-07:00Day 34"Yo!" from Lincoln, New Hampshire! Wow, SO much has happened since the last update. I can't believe it's been 18 days. That blows my mind. The trail's kind of a timeless place, it's easy to just wander your way through the month, especially when you don't have any real schedule to mark the passage of time. Things seem to just unravel for you, and suddenly it's been 18 days-ha!<br />There's a lot to cover. Let's start at square one: Harry Potter. The gang was overjoyed to see the final Potter flick in Bethel, Maine. It was funny to visit the theater and munch on Twizzlers, staring up at the display all enchanted and dumb.<br />Bob White couldn't join us because she was seeing her pal, Margot, who could only hike for twelve days, off at the Bangor airport. Her boyfriend, Jeff (or Powder River), had to pick them up at the trailhead near Andover. As it happened, my crew was just about to cross the road, scale a mountain, walk four miles, and crash at a shelter. We were all bloated and lazy from overindulgence in town and our spirits were low, especially with the sun due to set in two hours. Luckily, Jeff pulled up with a cooler of soft drinks, Gatorade, Oreos, and caramel popcorn, so we munched and caught up and just camped off the road. (This might not sound like an awesome story, but Trail Magic, or free goodies, is pretty exciting among the hikers.)<br />We havent seen Bob White since then, but that's the way of the trail I suppose. It's all very loose and fleeting. Twisted Turtle hangs with us now, he's a great addition to the crew, always throwing in snide remarks that get everyone LOL'ing.<br />New Hampshire was in our sights (sometimes literally). Besides Harry Potter, the Mahoosuc Notch was an awesome finale for the state. This portion of the trail, often referred to as the hardest mile of the whole thing, guides you through, over, and under a complicated boulder field, surrounded on either side by dense forest. It was like an obstacle course (at the time, I likened it to Tomb Raider and Prince of Persia). For an hour and a half, Tag and I hopped between rocks, sidled along ledges, and navigated narrow corridors (sometimes needing to take our packs off). Cool air issued out of the deeper crevices, sometimes full of ice with steam swirling around. It was really fantastic, exactly the kind of thing little kids like myself think of an adventure. Coach actually took his backpack off and went back for seconds.<br />It's crazy that so many Nobos (northbounders) we met viewed the notch as a nuisance, telling us that, unfortunately, we couldn't move through it at our normal speed. From what I'd heard, I expected a steep, laborious climb, not the awesome playplace that I got. After seeing some of the fastest Nobos, all stern and beleaguered, and after some support from the crew, I've discovered that a slower pace is my style for the trail. I'd still like to finish in November, but December's good too. Still, the mid-Atlantic part of the trail's supposed to be faster, lots of Nobos claim we'll "fly" down it, so I may finish in November anyway.<br />Shortly after Mahoosuc, we entered New Hampshire. We were pleased to have completed our first and hardest state, Maine. Now the White Mountains stood before us.<br />The Whites could have been a hard core challenge for us, but with Maine experience under our belts, and the good advice of many Nobos to just take it easy and enjoy the most spectacular part of the trail, we strolled through with daily mileages ranging from eight to fifteen. The Appalachian Mountain Club, a non-profit environmental group, manages a series of huts and shelters throughout the Whites where thru-hikers can seek work-for-stay jobs. Some thru-hikers resent the AMC because you either have to pay to stay in their shelters or ask for work slots that sometimes aren't available, so things can get iffy. Hikers can always stealth camp if they're turned away from shelters or huts, but weather is unpredictable up there. Luckily, Tag and I scored three work-for-stay's, and six free meals, so we got all the perks of the AMC. Regardless, we joked that we hated the oppression of the AMC, one of many faux-enemies of ours, including day packers, Nobos, Canadians, blue blazers (who follow side trails, sometimes bypassing the AT), and slack packers (who do portions of the trail with reduced packs, then pick up their full packs farther on). The Greenleaf Hut was especially nice because it was a mile off the trail, so thru-hikers were rare and well received (Tag delivered a presentation on thru-hiking to a full house of lodgers, including wide-eyed summer camp kids).<br />The mountains themselves were unbelievable. From a viewpoint, the land seems restless and abrupt, with constant bulges, ups, downs, and ripples, all surrounding the more gradual, sheer presence of Mount Washington, the premier mountain in the area, and the tallest. Unfortunately, the trek up Washington was cloudy. Ominous fog collected over the alpine field, until we were reduced to bobbing, gray forms, and the trail was just a series of cairns. By the time we summited, the visibility was so poor that I didn't notice an otherwise-prominent visitor's center only ten yards to my left. Even then I couldn't tell how large or how far it was until I actually reached it (I once thought that a white shape in a valley was a roof of a building, but I reached it within a minute to find that it was just a white rock, smaller than a drink cooler). Coach thought it was funny to see little girls (in flip-flops) emerge from the mist and pose next to the summit sign, asking their mom to just take the picture so they could get back to the car. The visitor's center had a display of all these magnificent pictures of sights from Washington, but the windows at the time looked like artificial, fluorescent lighting fixtures.<br />But the rest of our summits were only partially cloudy, which I prefer so we can watch the clouds interact with the mountains and the light. I got my fill of cloud action on top of Franconia Ridge, an exposed walk overlooking the southern Whites. A monster thunderstorm rolled in. Tag had the good sense to recommend that we scamper down the side of the ridge and squat on the balls of our feet to avoid lightning. It was a good thirty minute quad workout before the bulk of the storm passed. The clear, blue view to our right contrasted well with the hostile, receding storm clouds on our left.<br />Still, the Whites had more to offer than free food and epic views. Tag and I had a good time chilling on Zealand Falls, a stream that runs downhill over smooth, orange rock. My legs were acutely sore, maybe a little damaged, and we weren't especially motivated to move on, so we found a secluded spot far up the falls and spent the remainder of the day there before setting up our sleeping pads and bags and spending the night. It reminded me of Huck Finn, to spontaneously choose a spot on a river and to crash there. The noise of the river was a kind of silence. Plus, the river broke the canopy, so we got sweet star action. Tag exclaimed that there was more white than black in the sky. That was a real serene evening, wellbeing all over the freaking place.<br />Anyway, we hitched into Lincoln to stay at Chet's Place, a trail-famous house owned by the saint, the man, Chet. An avid hiker, he was injured when his fuel canister malfunctioned, leaving him hospitalized for many months. Now he's wheelchair-bound and bides his time by welcoming hikers into his home, where we bunk up in his garage. He's been doing this for fifteen years now. Hikers sign their names and draw pictures on designated surfaces, so you can see the history of the place, and the magnitude of his service, on the walls and bed frames. In fact, the Appalachian Trail Conservancy might put them on display. Pretty neat. I love the facilities, especially the shower (I hadn't bathed since the last post, so...).<br />Well, we're going to hitch out pretty soon. There's more to say, but oh well. Please remember to donate. Stay tuned for pics!<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br /><br />PS- I saw a baby bear! We both freaked out when we saw each other. He leapt up a tree, climbed on a branch and snarled at me for a while. My first impulse, surprisingly, was to go, "Oh, hey!" and to start to approach it, but I instantly realized its momma' probably wouldn't approve, so I retreated out of sight for ten minutes before returning, after it had left.<br />PPS- I saw a rabbit too, it was cute, as rabbits are, and curious and hoppy.<br />GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-70732472089401428142011-07-16T06:23:00.001-07:002011-07-16T06:23:53.469-07:00Day seventeen"Howdy" from Scratton, Maine! It's been pleasant hiking since we left Monson. The Hundred Mile Wilderness was a pretty intense introduction to the trail, so the last few days have been tame by comparison. Well, all but last Thursday, when we crossed The Bigelows, a pair of huge peaks overlooking the lakes and mountains we'd spent so many days navigating. The two-mile hike up the largest of The Bigelows was extra harsh, with boulders and crags at the base, followed by a series of deceptive, rocky inclines.<br />We've had fun meeting up with Bob White and Happy Camper at shelters at lunch and dinner. Tag and I are psyched to see Harry Potter in Andover with them. Nothing I've experienced on the trail can compare to the adventure and thrills of the completion of the Harry Potter saga! (just kidding, haha)<br />Let's see, what else?... Oh yeah! Preston (now known as Coach, because of his invaluable survival advice) completed the White Wolf Challenge at Scratton's White Wolf Inn. He downed three 1-pound burgers, topped with sausage and bacon, each with a bunch of fries. Somehow, we forgot to take pictures of all the food, but I did get a pic of Coach shortly after "winning" the challenge (he was all dazed and traumatized at the moment). It was pretty hardcore to watch from the opposite side of the table, especially with the threat of vomit (I was ready to bail at any moment).<br />Well, we had to wait an extra day in town for a package to arrive. I'm actually pretty eager to get back on the trail. The next portion, southern Maine, is supposed to be the hardest part of the trail, but if it's anything like The Bigelows, then it should be great.<br />Oh yeah, I have a trail name. Someone suggested "the butterfly whisperer," and that went through a bunch of changes and inside joke references. The name metamorphosed and grew, and The Butterfly Effect (or "Effect," for short) has emerged from its cocoon! It's a bit manly, maybe a little intimidating, but I think it will work.<br />Well, thanks again for reading, and remember to donate! Effect out!<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5629938784101265346'><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6GqRg5nvTvw/TiGPftWM78I/AAAAAAAAAFI/1SYgtOGulgY/s288/6.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5629938887733559362'><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-yOpFenhk0ew/TiGPlvaEQEI/AAAAAAAAAFM/yDrauJHq9QM/s288/7.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5629938971790651490'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-eopoAlvp6hs/TiGPqoi1sGI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/ic-RKrcP99U/s288/13.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />These pics are from Moxie Bald Mountain, nice view.<br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5629939036790923058'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-QA63upyFRyA/TiGPuasHHzI/AAAAAAAAAFU/Z9sJlnY6F_M/s288/9.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />This is Bob White with a picture of the quail she's named after.<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5629939150000250450'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kXNXokNXTrg/TiGP1AbUXlI/AAAAAAAAAFY/Ijb2CEgV5E4/s288/12.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5629940326042953826'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Box3XhrH3lI/TiGQ5dhv6GI/AAAAAAAAAFk/lQyUGf9zhXg/s288/11.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Relaxing on Avery Peak, the Bigelows.<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-91047501144632942142011-07-07T13:34:00.001-07:002011-07-07T13:34:20.757-07:00Day Eight"What's up!?" from Monson, Maine! The Hundred Mile Wilderness was pretty fierce, but the occasional vistas compensated, plus hanging with Tag and Preston at night. White Cap Mountain was especially awesome. We covered a few miles of gradual incline, then 1.4 miles of ridiculous, practically-vertical stone staircase action, before the bald top of the mountain. I could see forever, with the deepest layers of mountains covered over in a blue haze. Spotting the lakes and mountains we'd traversed was a treat. Plus, I saw a thunderstorm roll in. The clear view turned all spooky and hostile, and only the nearest peaks were visible. Cool stuff.<br />The animal sightings have been more of the same, except a cool orange salamander with red spots, he had a slick design. Oh, there was also a crazy bird that leapt out of the bushes at me, hissing like a cat, with the feathers around it's neck all sticking out, kind of like that poison-spitting dinosaur that killed Newman in Jurassic Park. At that point, I was really in the hiking groove, kind of playing Dance Dance Revolution with the rocks and the roots, in my zone, ya' know, so it was extremely surprising.<br />Oh (again), another animal, a dog, surprised me that day. This lady's dog, her thru-hike companion actually, snuck up behind me and stole my bagel! I should have bought more food, just in case we were held up for an additional day before Monson, so I was a bit concerned. But it was mostly funny, especially how the dog acted so mischievous.<br />At the end of the day, I fell into a river, then trudged the last mile to the shelter, which we've referred to repeatedly as the most impossibly-long-seeming mile on the trail (but there are plenty of contenders).<br />Yesterday a killer storm rolled by, just as we were about to ford a river, so we put on our rain gear and waited until the lightning passed before passing. It was real close for a while, all purple, with long thunder roars. Tag and I agreed that it added some intrigue to our trip. Then we hiked through the remaining drizzle as the night closed in.<br />I was amazed by how the sunset colors diffused into the fog. It seemed to fill the spaces between trees, the atmosphere was so dense. We passed a large lake with a few islands. I was impressed by how the air and the water seemed continuous, with only the islands and their reflections marking the dividing line. In fact, that was probably the most beautiful part of the trip so far. It was like a Chinese ink painting or something, with simple colors and black shapes. It got dark though, and we had our headlamps on before we finally found the shelter.<br />Now I'm taking it easy at the Lakeside House, a hostel/bar/laundromat/restaurant, watching Blazing Saddles with some other thru-hikers, including Charizard (he has a bad ass Pokemon shirt) and three ex-military dudes from the same platoon (they call themselves the Men of Action Team, or MOAT for short). It's the best place ever, so comfy and casual. Plus, they have kayaks and a water trampoline, which I might take advantage of soon. It's a real home-y place to let our feet heal before heading out for the rest of Maine, which is allegedly the hardest state on the trail.<br />Having access to so much food is the best part of getting to town. I've already lost 4 pounds, but Tag's lost 5 and Preston's lost 10! I ate 13 tacos, and could've gone for another 13, but i didn't want abuse the manager's Thursday all-you-can-eat taco special. The manager, Rebecca, is the busiest woman on the planet. In my hour at the counter, she answered the phone at least eight times, tended to the bar, directed multiple work-for-stay-employees, and small-talked with numerous groups of regulars.<br />Well, I'm going to finish watching the movie, down the rest of this tube of Pringles, and check out the bluegrass show later tonight. I'll try to post some photos too.<br />Please remember to donate! Thanks!<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711362843209426'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-kGZLj7zGwZs/ThYYLEPsbtI/AAAAAAAAAEM/cEmMs71UNe4/s288/17.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711376834837330'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-nCQQbSdDnxQ/ThYYL4Xju1I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/Gk-UCH-bnvM/s288/16.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711387879330866'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-wvjhRw9_JZQ/ThYYMhgxVDI/AAAAAAAAAEU/UhgP7LNyKQc/s288/15.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711403676295858'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ync60Sd6R_Y/ThYYNcXD4rI/AAAAAAAAAEY/gFIvcd-LEEE/s288/14.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711410364832882'><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-FtbMFmi9QPA/ThYYN1Ru3HI/AAAAAAAAAEc/RSx0Jay1lX8/s288/13.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711425555211090'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-5r3ekw6fE4s/ThYYOt3Zo1I/AAAAAAAAAEg/cn8sc_9_QHA/s288/12.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711446691709890'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5k8JcPZlNKA/ThYYP8mvA8I/AAAAAAAAAEk/LJDFm2ZjzkI/s288/11.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711454985066898'><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tn-Nv-TSp8k/ThYYQbgBmZI/AAAAAAAAAEo/aVLBr0eFhgE/s288/10.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711465139956402'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3qbxn4TxMbE/ThYYRBVI6rI/AAAAAAAAAEs/-D6UfQgEtPQ/s288/9.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711473202909042'><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MJn9dBKTSXI/ThYYRfXfz3I/AAAAAAAAAEw/HxiTCUnhPos/s288/8.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711477932957362'><img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9Y4FqLl3-7k/ThYYRw_OnrI/AAAAAAAAAE0/TywUf33LJT4/s288/7.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/110003662448162007428/MyBlogPhotos#5626711494393672738'><img src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-iHnBtb23CGQ/ThYYSuTxNCI/AAAAAAAAAE4/grnThvZnsuk/s288/6.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-25219719530221947712011-07-03T07:01:00.001-07:002011-07-03T07:01:58.720-07:00Day fourGood afternoon everybody! I've scored some cell service on this river bank, so I'm going to give y'all a brief summary on what's going down:<br />So, as I've already said, the first day was extra intense. Every time I've seen katahdin since then, from a vista or an outlook, it's had a sinister cloud on top, even if it's an otherwise clear day. It's a killer mountain. I was all sore in the upper body the next day from pulling myself over boulders and figuring out creative, but questionable, ways to get around the rocks. <br />So yeah, on top I met Tag. At first a vague shape in the rain, now my trail buddy. We're both eighteen, just graduated, pretty psyched for the trail and the adventure and all that good stuff (although a lot of it is plain endurance and not all that action-packed, of course).<br />Since then we've seen a moose chilling in a river, four snakes, lots of frogs, squirrels, chipmunks, some fish, and too many flies, but that's "part of the game," as he might say.<br />Weve befriended five others, and I wouldn't be surprised if we regrouped with them at trail shelters for the rest of the hundred mile wilderness. There's Preston, a wilderness school grad. He's like bear grylls, only probably more fun to be around. There's powderriver and "bobwhite," a cute couple who make dorky jokes with each all the time. Also, there's lizzy and -, a custom gun maker and a car customizer respectively. Everyone's friendly, calm, and well-humored. <br />We joke around the usual camp chores, then off to bed (around nine, ha!). The sun rises at four thirty around here, and people are preparing for the day by six thirty. Eating enough food is actually a chore because we burn so much carrying 30+ pounds over the root systems, rocks, and elevation changes on the trail. But it's not really an issue, everyone seems pretty resigned to the facts of the trail and just soldiers on. Besides, there's plenty of aspects that help to redeem it, including the vistas, the waterfalls, the pleasant pine-floor parts, and especially the White House, a restaurant/lodge located a mile off the trail. You blow an air horn and a man motor-boats you across. The property's beautiful, all hilly and grassy with quaint houses and home-y decor. They sell 1 lb. Burgers and pizza (I got a veggie burger), and you can resupply there (which is sweet because you can carry less food on your way to it).<br />Tag and I are going to take a relatively easy 11-mile day today to tend to our blisters (they're evil), which festered yesterday during a wet 20-mile hike. For the next five days, we're going through the more mountainous half of the hundred mile wilderness, so we'll need our feet in semi-decent shape.<br />Oh yeah, I found. Butterly in a shelter, picked up the stuff it was standing on, then it chilled on my finger and tried to extract something from me for a while, pretty cool. They have lots of these guys around here, settled in bunches that flutter around when you disturb them.<br />Well, I'll post the next time I have the opportunity! I'll include photos when I have better reception. Please remember to donate to UNICEF! We're responsible to spread our good fortune! Visit my UNICEF site (located at the top of this page) for further encouragement!<br />thanks!<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-79509244566930469712011-06-30T06:32:00.001-07:002011-06-30T06:32:45.341-07:00First day, hardcore but awesome<br />Greetings from millinocket, Maine! A lot has happened since my last post. I can't outline it all because I'm short on time, doing little tasks with a fellow thru-hiker, Tag (who touches, or tags, every trail blaze) before heading back to Baxter state park to proceed along the trail.<br />Summitig mount katahdin to reach the northern terminus of the trail was fierce. At first everything was clear, but by the time we reached the top, after clambering over a bung of boulders, you couldn't see twenty feet ahead of you, with mist swirling around, stranded in 360 degrees of white. It was cold too, I couldn't adjust my rain cover because of the that. But the drama made it more adventurous and exciting. Woohoo!<br />It wasn't an especially harsh situation for katahdin, so I was chilling, but it sure seemed especially hardcore.<br />I'm psyched to keep on trucking! Yeah!<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8421707475360759060.post-56190087064890057572011-02-22T18:45:00.000-08:002011-02-23T12:23:12.339-08:00First Post, Test RunsHello reader(s)! Welcome to my UNICEF fundraiser project. In case you don't know, I aspire to hike the Appalachian Trail (AT), a 2,175-mile path from Maine to Georgia, between July and November 2011. My older sister, Amber, completed the hike with her then-boyfriend, now husband, Ryan, about five years ago. I was pretty enchanted with the whole idea. It sounded like an epic trek, reminiscent of all the fantasy books, games, and movies I was so into back then.<br />
Since then, the trail's acquired a different appeal. It seems liberating, a chance to engage myself in a simple endeavor, free from copious tasks and external pressures. Besides, I admire nature, so I imagine it will be something of a whimsical retreat.<br />
Of course, I acknowledge the physical rigor, but the challenge excites me. The same impulse that motivated me into competitive running drives me to the trail. The endorphins, the pride, the physicality– it's all pretty excellent.<br />
I'll update this blog whenever I reach the internet (I'll have to turn into town at least once a week to resupply). I'll record my experiences, post photos, and encourage readers to donate to UNICEF via my fund-raising site (see the header of this site for the web address). Please visit that site to read my personal entreaty and browse further links with stats about global disparity and poverty.<br />
I'm an admittedly lofty-headed sorta' guy. This might be totally over my head. I can only say I'll try my best. This is a personal trip, not a die-hard mission, so if things turn sour, I'll call it quits. Still, the rain, the bugs, and the soreness will only make it a more epic conquest.<br />
For the last few weeks, I've been taking long walks with a bunch of weight in my new Vapor Trail backpack. My parents are awesomely supportive. Last week my mom and I headed to Shark Valley, a path in the Everglades National Park. She did 8 miles, I did 15. Gators stewed in the murk on either side of the trail (oooh, what a moody sentence). Sea grass prairies remind me of safaris. Halfway along the trail, there's this tower with a broad spiral walkway leading up to the lookout. It was beautiful to see the cloud shadows drifting, the different warm hues of the grass, the expansiveness. And that was only, like, 100 feet in the air! The highest point on the AT, Clingman's Dome in North Carolina, is 6,643 feet high.<br />
Yesterday, my folks and I headed out the front door for Matheson Hammock, a scenic park with a marina, an atoll, and a fancy restaurant (The Red Fish Grill). The trip included coral rock walls, dappled light from overhanging banyons, bougainvillea bushes, and lavish landscaping. At the marina, we saw one of the docked sailboats seem to spontaneously catch on fire (the fire was inside, it was just smoking as far as we could tell, but it was a lot of smoke). On the way back, I explored the Hardy P. Matheson Preserve walkway on Old Cutler Road. It follows Snapper Creek into Biscayne Bay. At first, it seemed hopelessly hot and dreary, but the end was actually enclosed in Australian pine and mangroves. At the end, you could look out in 270 degrees. Prime real estate peeped out of the foliage of the mainland. Miami city rested over sailboats and speed boats in the bay. The hum of their engines reminded me of blowing into an empty bottle. I was pretty psyched to find this shady vantage point. I wish I had the camera, dang.<br />
Well, I'll write as things develop. Stay tuned! <br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turns out I was using more weight than I thought. I should have distributed it better anyway.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4C7OlFGiEZ5xCAfv3nJkNjVzRnv55kEVBloCURljDgAhm3bGcr7hkcSk6DMSJvc7j7wIP1-ZIo7Yj5GPpmUL5GJnz3NGsyNhaYDNzk6XDWuBLvm3wKBXICoZGt7Dzxuh06l4jfYXtxg/s1600/Susan+Ricke_1298428464052.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4C7OlFGiEZ5xCAfv3nJkNjVzRnv55kEVBloCURljDgAhm3bGcr7hkcSk6DMSJvc7j7wIP1-ZIo7Yj5GPpmUL5GJnz3NGsyNhaYDNzk6XDWuBLvm3wKBXICoZGt7Dzxuh06l4jfYXtxg/s320/Susan+Ricke_1298428464052.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check it out, a yellow crowned night heron on the path in Matheson Hammock. Chillin'.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHGpT8JEmZWp9m-F0XRvLv26VIwTpnDH4gtwd-RO_XUZRwm2OgZIpPf2-I4ISQhUm43HKq1uwUQPakawlI-pA6yqbLcwg3G2PV2jBSDOafgKzAtklyLyEo1vziYUJ1-mEtreupn-mvTY/s1600/Susan+Ricke_1298428368743.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHGpT8JEmZWp9m-F0XRvLv26VIwTpnDH4gtwd-RO_XUZRwm2OgZIpPf2-I4ISQhUm43HKq1uwUQPakawlI-pA6yqbLcwg3G2PV2jBSDOafgKzAtklyLyEo1vziYUJ1-mEtreupn-mvTY/s320/Susan+Ricke_1298428368743.jpeg" width="320" /></a>GoDylanGohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05127392450920751139noreply@blogger.com0