"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!
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.
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.)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
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.
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...).
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!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
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.
PPS- I saw a rabbit too, it was cute, as rabbits are, and curious and hoppy.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Day 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.
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)
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).
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.
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.
Well, thanks again for reading, and remember to donate! Effect out!
These pics are from Moxie Bald Mountain, nice view.
This is Bob White with a picture of the quail she's named after.
Relaxing on Avery Peak, the Bigelows.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
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)
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).
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.
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.
Well, thanks again for reading, and remember to donate! Effect out!
These pics are from Moxie Bald Mountain, nice view.
This is Bob White with a picture of the quail she's named after.
Relaxing on Avery Peak, the Bigelows.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Day 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.
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Please remember to donate! Thanks!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Please remember to donate! Thanks!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Day four
Good 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:
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.
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).
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
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!
thanks!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
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.
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).
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
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!
thanks!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Thursday, June 30, 2011
First day, hardcore but awesome
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.
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!
It wasn't an especially harsh situation for katahdin, so I was chilling, but it sure seemed especially hardcore.
I'm psyched to keep on trucking! Yeah!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
First Post, Test Runs
Hello 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Well, I'll write as things develop. Stay tuned!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Well, I'll write as things develop. Stay tuned!
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| Turns out I was using more weight than I thought. I should have distributed it better anyway. |
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| Check it out, a yellow crowned night heron on the path in Matheson Hammock. Chillin'. |
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