I graduated high school over thirty years ago now…and for the most part, my memories of high school had always been blurred by the memory of my awkwardness. I was a small and skinny kid, played in the marching band, was active in Boy Scouts, and active in my church. To say that I was not part of the ‘popular’ crowd is an understatement. I had my friends, most of whom were also in the band, so I wasn’t a loner, but I seemed to recall that we generally knew ‘our crowd’ and the folks we hung out with.

About a year ago I had decided to join Facebook – not really sure why, but over time I have reconnected with many, many classmates. And while many of them were not kids I hung around with, I knew who they were, and they knew who I was, so we could at least communicate. And over the last few months, as I’ve talked to some of these people, I came to realize that the time then was not so bad after all, and that in fact, I had created some lasting memories and friends, despite the years. So when I realized our 30 Year Reunion was being held, I decided I wanted, and needed, to attend, despite the fact that I had missed all the earlier ones. In the week before the event, I debated….would I still be the same awkward kid, or would I be different? Would everyone else be different? Who changed the most, or the least? Who left the area, and who didn’t? Should I really go or not?

As the night arrived, I pulled out my yearbook to peruse one last time, hoping to remember everyone. And when we pulled into the lot of the restaurant and walked in the door, thirty years melted away in a flash, and suddenly it was like 1979 again. Except for one thing – it no linger mattered what sport you played, what your GPA was, or what brand of sneakers you wore…everyone there was connected in ways unknown. In one instant, time stood still, and time advanced. I read somewhere that at 30 year reunions the big realization is that everyone felt awkward during high school, but some hid it better than others. And time does erase all that, and bring everyone together again. And so while it was wonderful to see my old best friends again, it was also wonderful to be able to sit and talk and remember with people I hadn’t spent much time with back then…the most common thought I had after talking with people was “I wish I had known you better, or spent more time with you, when we were younger.” And what I realized is that that’s OK…that was then, and this is now. And I enjoyed spending time with my classmates, and hope to see them again, without waiting another thirty years ( I doubt I’ll last that long anyway).

So here’s to the Mustang’s, Class of 1979!! It was great seeing all of you again, even though we had such little time that evening to reconnect. Thank you to the organizers for a great evening, and to everyone for being there…we definitely missed the rest of you. And thanks to my wife, for putting up with being left as I visited…luckily she wasn’t the only one in that situation, and was able to make a new friend in the process!

This time it’s different.

A few weeks ago I traveled to Brazil for business, and after a couple of days went on to Montevideo, Uruguay, also for business. Both trips were very successful ventures, and all that remained was to get home. So Friday evening I left Montevideo for Rochester – short hop over the mountains to Santiago, Chile, and on to Toronto, then a quick puddle jumper across Lake Ontario and home early Saturday morning. But fate had other plans for me.

The mountains sit just behind the city

When I arrived in Santiago, I learned the AirCanada flight was canceled – the incoming 777-300 had apparently hit a bird while landing, and lost an engine. They needed AC to fly parts in from Toronto, so they canceled the flight and sent everyone to a hotel until the next day.

Because I was only in transit, and never meant to clear customs here, they took my passport at the airport and locked it in a safe. Technically I am not ‘here’ in Chile, according to Immigration. I told the Immigration Office that I wasn’t comfortable being in another country, and he calmly replied “Don’t worry senior. What could happen?”

I was bussed to the Sheraton San Cristobal – a hotel I had stayed in years ago – it is a beautiful five star hotel in downtown Santiago, not too far from the financial district. I even made a short video in the hotel, and commented on how lucky I was to have been stuck there, as this was a pretty nice way to be inconvenienced.

As everyone knows by know, Chile was hit with a massive earthquake early Saturday morning….I was sleeping when it hit, but was wakened by the shaking and the noise, much like a freight train in my room. I tried to stand, and fell….turned on a light, ran to get my cell phone and key, but another shake caused me to slam into the wall and drop the phone. It happened to be at the same moment we lost power, so I dropped to my knees and tried to feel on the floor for the phone The shaking and noise were intensifying at this point, and for a brief moment I stopped everything, and came to the conclusion that this was to be my end. I take solace in knowing that reaching that conclusion was lot more peaceful and calming than I thought it would be, but the calm allowed me to stand up, and leave the room (after fighting with the deadbolt). Still, it was much like being on the deck of a boat in 20 foot seas….I hit the walls a few times, and fell again as I tried to open the door. As I entered the hallway, the power returned, and I saw people running and screaming down the halls.  Luckily for me the stairway was right across the hall, and I was only on the 2nd floor, so I opened the door and directed a few folks into the stairwell, and we ran downstairs. Just as we approached the bottom, the quaking stopped – it was nearly three minutes of shaking. We ran outside into the dark, and were directed by hotel security thru the lobby and out back onto the lawn….managing to step on some broken glass in the process. We waited outside for about four hours before we could return to the rooms – when I did I realized my cash, company card, cell phone and watch had been stolen during the chaos.

The hotel staff was fabulous – they set up coffee and fruit during the wait, and for the next few days provided three excellent meals a day. It is unbelievable the dedication and effort they made, even while their own families were home without them.

Camp Sheraton

For the next three nights, we slept outside in lawn chairs or on the lawn….luckily the nights were clear, but given the low humidity and despite the warm days, the nights were quite cool. Luckily for me I had my Patagonia down sweater, which was a lifesaver, and having spent many nights camping, this wasn’t as difficult for me as for some of the other guests.

Sunday afternoon a strong aftershock hit, and caused a rock slide on the hill behind the hotel….I was lucky to have had my Flip video with me and caught the slide. I understand that this tremor caused at least one and maybe two heart attacks among the guests though, and I have to admit the continual jolt of the aftershocks does indeed wear thin on your heart.

Events like this bring out the best in people, and the worst. News of looting in other towns made my small room robbery seem trivial, but the fact that people used this situation to take advantage is sad. However, I did meet some wonderful people, and we did the best we could to keep each other cheered up throughout this situation. I hope to keep in touch with them in the future, but hopefully not under these circumstances again!

I know of several people there who say it has changed their lives deeply – I’m not sure I can say that, although I am still trying to figure out the purpose in all of this for me. I believe it was an opportunity to not only help those around me, but to re-connect with long lost friends from my past. I was very grateful to see the outpouring of support and prayers for my safety, and for my wife, alone at home and worried about the outcome. Their support made the situation much easier to cope with than it would have been without it. And through it all, Pam waited at home, with the minimal communication we had, and I can say now it was much more difficult a week for her than it was for me. At least I knew I was safe and that I’d be alright – she could only imagine, and of course one’s imagination always sees these things as worse than they are.

For several days we waited – and waited – for news on the re-opening of the airport. Originally planned for Friday evening, the ill-fated Air Canada flight finally left Wednesday evening at 11PM, and despite not always enjoying long flights, this one was the best. Even the storm tossed turbulence didn’t matter – I was finally going home.

As I arrived in Toronto I learned the next connecting flight was eleven hours away…silly to wait, I rented a car a drove home, with only a minor issue at the border.

Border Officer: Why are you here?

Me: My plane landed in Toronto and the next flight was tonight, so I drove to be home sooner.

Border: Why did you go to Toronto?
Me: I didn’t, really. I was in Chile and got stuck for a few days, flew back thru Toronto, and here I am.

Border: Why were stuck in Chile?

Me: You know – the earthquake? Airport was closed…

Border: Hmm…no, haven’t heard about it. Next time you should take your flight, but go on this time.

Me: It’s good to be home, eh?

And so it is….Dorothy was right. There’s no place like home.

Ready to go home!

That night, I made sure to eat and hydrate well, and slept well. The next morning, Bill & I drove to the Corey’s Rd Trailhead near Tupper Lake to start our hike to Seymour Mountain, AFTER being sure to have a good breakfast this time…protein, carbs, fat – balanced, instead of sugars only. The hike starts at the parking lot, and as we registered, we saw only two other groups ahead of us…apparently the Seward Range is not as popular as the Keene area peaks – but no matter, it was another beautiful day and we’d have the mountain to ourselves.

The hike started from the register across a relatively level trail, and went for about 6.5 miles – along the way we passed a couple beaver ponds, great wooded areas, and only a little mud, which has plagued Adirondack hikers this summer. After reaching the Ward Brook lean-to at 6.5 miles, and a little over two hours, we had been moving pretty well…that would change. Just beyond the lean-to is a small cairn that marks the trail to Seymour, and we turned off. Immediately the trail started through thicker woods, and along a small stream that we crossed several times.
Shortly after we started up – this hike is supposed to climb 2000 feet in the last mile and a half, but I’d say it was more like 1800 in the last mile. No matter – we ended up hiking through and up a beautiful spot…while this is considered one of the ‘trailless’ peaks, there was only one time we weren’t sure which way to go, and even so found it pretty quickly. At one point we stepped off the trail to the slide to see about climbing it – it might have been possible had it been drier, but at this point, there was just enough water running down the face to slick up the moss that grew there, and we quickly exited the area and rejoined the trail.

After some puffing and panting, and lots of water, we reached the summit around 1230, so it was just over four hours from the start. We also found a cool ledge just before the summit, and after the obligatory hero pics, we dropped our packs there and had a quick lunch. The views from here were spectacular – we could see Ampersand Mountain and Lake, the full Sewards, and god knows what else, but it seemed to go on forever.  It was quick, however, because the mosquitos were competing for our food – they were miserable!

We descended the same way we came up, and returned to the cars just before 5PM, which made the whole day 8h10m – after hearing someone Bill describes as a fast hiker had done this in 8 hours, we felt pretty good to have done it in this time…plus we did take some time for lunch and pics, so I felt pretty good about it, especially after bailing the day before.

Points to remember – Fitness, Nutrition and Hydration – keys to a good day. I forget these on Saturday, and was miserable, but recovered enough and followed the rules on Sunday and had a great day. And I am convinced that if I had not turned back, I would have collapsed in a heap in the deep col between Giant and Rocky, and would have been an airlift news story that night.

Live and learn…I have! Good climbing.

For many years, Thoreau’s quote of marching to a different drummer struck me – I admit to never having been one to go with the flow or to jump on the latest trends just to fit in…I sort of always knew I didn’t exactly fit in. In high school, I was in the marching band for my four years – not the most athletic or popular endeavour, and not the chick-magnet that football or soccer were.

Whatever…

So now I stumble on to a poem I’m sure many have seen, and I guess if I think about it, I have too. As I’ve gotten older, and start to wonder what my legacy will be, it really resonates with me, so I wanted to share it. It’s called the Men Who Don’t Fit In, by Robert William Service…he should know, he rambled from Scotland, to Vancouver Island, to the Yukon and worked as a banker, cow milker, and god-knows-what-else. I hope you find a note here that strikes you as well – enjoy.

The Men That Don’t Fit In

Robert William Service

There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
They say: “Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!”
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
He was never meant to win;
He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;
He’s a man who won’t fit in.

The long hot trail

I was fortunate enough to have traveled to LA this past weekend with my wife, for her sister’s wedding. We were together fortunate because her sister and husband (congrats to the happy couple) planned an excellent weekend of fun, food and merriment, including time for each visitor to see and enjoy LA in their own way. Naturally, Mrs W & I decided to find a place to hike. Turning to my original inspiration to start this blog in the first place, I looked to the ModernHIker for advice.  After reviewing his site, and consulting the great SoCal Google map he keeps, we decided to try to Solstice Canyon. Alas, last year’s fires have the park closed, so after contacting MH directly, he suggested we try to hike to Sandstone Peak, the highest point in the Santa Monica Mountains. He also noted that not only was this one his favorite hikes, it was ‘the one’ that convinced him how true hiking was to his heart.

We drove up PCH for not quite an hour (all driving distances in LA are determined by time, not mileage) and turned off on Yerba Buena Rd for one of the most winding roads I’ve ever been on. Mrs W was not amused, but after about six miles we found the trail head and parking on the left. As we got out, we saw a Sierra Club group getting ready to hike, and took off ahead of them along the trail (really nice dogs with them). The trail leaves the parking lot and starts a gentle climb right away…while the climb itself wasn’t tough, we quickly knew the conditions would be new to us. And, true to form, I was puffing and panting on this stretch as I warmed up to the day ahead.

It was 930AM, and already starting to get hot. And every step kicked up dry desert dust…ah yes, this would be a good one. The trail continues for about a half mile, and then splits – the western side heads straight to Sandstone Peak, but the eastern side travels around a long loop before joining the Backbone Trail and the Peak. We went east…and were greeted with views like we’ve never seen. Very shortly after the split we came across a pillar of sandstone…according to the GPS waypoints from ModernHiker, this spot was labeled “Climbing”, so we scrambled up the loose rock as far as we dared and got a great overview to the south of the terrain. The deep canyons appeared to fall away into nothing, with scrub brush everywhere. In the distance, isolated ‘clumps’ of sandstone dotted the landscape, jutting up and over and about, and taking your breath away. This is clearly not anything like our  Adirondack hikes -

As we continued the trail further east, it connected with the Mishe Mokwa trail, which runs along the western ridge of a larger canyon – across the gap were the stunning Echo Cliffs, and the unlikely (but correctly named) Balance Rock. We noticed a few climbers on Echo Cliffs, on the shady walls, of course, because by then it was really getting warm. At this point I was hoping we had brought enough water – five liters between us – but wasn’t sure.

We then found a beautiful oasis along the trail at Split Rock – again, aptly named for the large house size boulder split in two. After dipping our bandanas in the only water along the trail, and the obligatory photos inside the split, the Sierra Club group caught up to us. The leader announced a twenty minute break because “there is no shade from here out” – we took our leave and left the cool spot as they broke out their lunches.

She was nearly right – there were a few shady spots after Split Rock, but only if you hide behind the scrubs by kneeling down. It was hot – not that I trust it, but the thermometer on my pack read 95 (the news that evening confirmed 102 in the canyons). The trail looped around the north, and at the apex was a side trail to the TriPeaks, a collection of sandstone rocks to be climbed. Worried about water, and hotter than I’d prefer to be, we skipped this out and back, and continued to the junction with the Backbone Trail. From here, the trail gently climbed to the base of Sandstone Peak, which required a bit of a loose rock scramble to reach the summit. Initially confused by the Mt Allen plaque on the top, I remembered the dual name, signed the log, and sat back to enjoy the views. Wow! We could see the Pacific. We could see mountains to the east, and the south. We could see Santa Monica Bay. And, if you’re bold and lean over the rocks on top, you can see straight down (according to the GPS, about 900 feet straight down!) We hung out to catch our breath (it had been taken away by both the heat, and the views) and rummaged through our packs for lunch. Normally I carry a lot of food (eh, Rickie?) but most of my trail snacks had been noshed on over the weekend already (dang kids!). Not to worry – an emergency foil-pack of tuna, and some chips, and we were dining four star! Mrs W finished her second liter here, as I still had enough in my pack to get us back…as we packed up and scrambled down I realized that the Sierra Club group had not yet caught up, despite our break…

As the scramble rejoined the trail, it was a winding 1.2 miles back to the parking lot…I realized it would be all downhill, as we had about 1200′ to lose before returning to our starting point. As we wound around the trail, sweating our tails off, we took in our last views of the ocean, and across the canyon to Skull Rock…who names these things? They were a master of the obvious, for sure! No mixed up Anglicizations of Iroquois names as found in the Adirondacks — if a rock is teetering precipitously, call it Balance Rock. Works for me.

As we reached the car, I pulled the 3 liter hydration bladder from the pack, which had about a half liter left. We quickly finished that as we drove back down the winding road, noting the drop in temperature with every turn. As we drove back to hotel, we saw a sign showing the temp to be 69F, after being in nearly 100F just a short while ago – the windows were open, we were hot and sweaty, the ocean was in view…what could be better? Thanks ModernHiker for the recommendation…this was truly a beautiful hike and a great way to see what SoCal has to offer besides miserable traffic.

Stats:

Total length – 6.11 miles

Time – 3 hours, 25 minutes

Elevation Gain – 1775 feet

I will have more pictures to post when I return and develop them – in the meantime, here is a Google Earth overlay of the track.

Back in September, a hiking forum I belong to began organizing their winter gathering, a event in which the objective is to put someone from the forum on the top of each of the forty six highest peaks of New York. Given that there are over 6,000 individuals who now call themselves 46er’s, meaning they have climbed each themselves, and given the number of 46er’s on the forum, this seemed a reasonable enough goal, and one I decided to participate in myself. After reading every ADK guidebook I could find, and sending a few personal messages back and forth, I decided to join the team climbing Giant, also known as Giant of the Valley. Giant sits as one of the southernmost peaks of the 46, and is usually hiked with it’s sister peak, Rocky Peak Ridge, so we decided to tackle both. The team I signed up to hike with is one of the most pleasant, caring and loving couples you’ll ever meet, known on the forum as billandjudy.

The gathering took on a new meaning in January, when the son of one of the owners was killed in an avalanche in Lake Louise – he was 19. I had never met Dominic Luckhurst, but had read many of his adventures on the forum as he, his parents and brothers tackled the ADK peaks one by one, and read with joy when he and his father completed their 46er. Even without meeting him, it was clear he was an exemplary young man who loved life, and whose love for life was only exceeded by his love for his family. In this day and age, when people talk about how families are drifting apart and TV and other electronics build a wall and add distance to people who share a home, this was a family who spent as much time as they could together, and outdoors.

Knowing the day would be difficult for the family, it was decided to name the day Dom Day, to remember this fine young man and to comfort his family. The only caveat requested was that the day of hiking be dedicated to Dom, in any way each team saw fit, but that the evening festivities be dedicated to the hikers themselves, and to the days fun and accomplishments.

In the days leading up to the hike, Bill & Judy had asked another member, ‘Snickers ‘ to join us. Snicker’s original plan had to been to hike one of the peaks solo, but on this special day, most people came to understand that the comfort and camaraderie of others was important, so our team of four was set.

The two days prior to the hike brought a lot of snow to the ‘Daks – close to two feet in most places, and many began to wonder whether the trails would be broken out, or still fresh with powder. The four of us met at the trailhead at 8AM, and realized the snow berm created by the plows was about four feet tall itself – what would the trail be like behind it? After donning our snowshoes, and scrambling over the berm, we walked to the register and signed in – what a relief to see that someone had soloed the route the day before! As we followed their snowshoe tracks up the trail, it was clear that it was one person, and they weren’t big – in other words, there was still some trail breaking to do. As is usual in my hiking, I started out breathing hard and sweating harder – even in the 20F morning – and took off a few layers. At one point I wondered if I could really do this, but the team was encouraging and nudged just enough to keep me going. Good thing – after an hour of hiking I began to find my rhythm. This is also about the same time that our trail breaking angel from the day before turned back, meaning we would have to break out the rest of the way. And let me add without hesitation that by we, I mean Bill, who did the bulk of the breaking. Judy & Snickers took some too, and I managed a wee bit, but for the most part, it was Bill. We reached Giant’s Washbowl shortly, a pond on the side on the side of the mountain, and from just beyond had amazing views across the road. Looking down, you could see Chapel Pond, where the ice climbers were hiking across the pond to their ice for the day. Looking across and north, you could see the Wolfjaws, and to the southwest, the Dix Range.

As we kept going, I chatted with the team about their experience, which was significant, and about themselves. Prior to this several people had told me to be prepared for Snickers’ chatting – which was said to be non-stop – but I have to say, it wasn’t, and what there was was always interesting and interested. She is a remarkable hiker, also with the passion for the outdoors I saw in many other folks that weekend, and a genuine person. Her positive energy alone helped me continue up the mountain I may have quit if on my own.

Going up, every step was a chore – reach up with your snowshoe, kick a couple times to make a step, transfer your weight, and slide back a half step. Meaning, our plan was to be back at the cars by 2PM, and we knew that wasn’t going to happen. As we got higher, the clouds rolled in, and brought with them a light snow fall – while beautiful in it’s own right, the views we hoped for were sucked into the cloud. Nevertheless, we continued through the winter wonderland before us, and soon reached the final knob before the summit. Bill & Judy, who had each climbed Giant before, stepped aside, and asked Snickers to lead the final way, and for me to follow – they would bring up the rear and allow us to reach the top first. She soon topped out, and we were right behind her…snow was falling heavier now, and after being drenched with sweat from hiking, it didn’t take long to feel chilled. It was now already 1 o’clock.

Snickers had brought along with her a rose to leave on the summit for Dom, and when she went to retrieve it, we saw the bud was gone, and only the stem remained. We said a brief prayer for Dom & his family and left it there, and I removed a set of prayer flags from my pack which we also left behind for him. May they carry our wishes and blessings skyward to him and bring peace to his family…

We had to then decide whether to continue to Rocky or not – the col between the two peaks is not long, but is steep, and we figured the snow would be especially deep, so we decided to go down instead. I still believe that my own struggle to keep up contributed to that decision, but not once was that ever mentioned or implied.

As we headed down the mountain, I quickly learned two new techniques well known to Winter ADK hikers – one, the snowshoe ‘ski’, and two, the butt-slide. In the first, as you step down, the steepness doesn’t allow the shoe to fully bite, and you begin to slip. If you allow it to, you can ride this out for more distance than you might have imagined, and it’s fun. The second is fairly obvious – sit on your butt, and slide down the chute you created climbing up. Now this is fun! As we reached a junction we had noted coming up, Bill noted that it had taken us 20 minutes to descend to here, but it had taken an hour and twenty to ascend!

The descent was mostly unremarkable – limited views, more snow, and plenty of sliding and skiing. On the way down, we met several teams following our broken trail – better yet, we found some of Snickers’ rose petals, and asked these folks to carry them to the summit for us. As we passed the Washbowl the views from earlier had now disappeared in the snow and we didn’t linger long this time. Just below, the trail switches back and forth, which made coming up easier – going down, Bill suggested it would be easier to simply skip the trail and go straight down through the fresh powder. What a feeling to step off the path and feel two feet of fresh powder sink beneath your snowshoe – it’s almost like being weightless as you float down. We made great time through here, laughing all the way, and reached the register again just before 4PM…two hours after we might have thought, and without Rocky Peak.

We loaded the car and head back to the hotel that served as our base station, and was to be the spot for the evening festivities. We were back in time for showers and dry clothes, and waited for others to return. As they lingered in throughout the evening, we learned we were not the only ones turned back that day – Mother Nature had offered a butt-kicking to more than myself. I met so many people, with so many stories, I could fill a book – but I can say that these are the folks who suck the marrow out of life and live their lives to the fullest. I have never seen, in one place, so many people who said they don’t own TV’s, or Xbox’s, or whatever – instead, they ski, they hike, and they live. As a self-admitted foodie, there was so much there to eat and drink – and I firmly believe that a person’s passion is put into the food they cook and share, I can say there was more passion in that room than in any gathering I have ever attended. In this day and age, to see 50 or so folks sharing and bonding over an activity like hiking is enough to give me hope for the world.

When Dominic’s father returned to posting to the forum, after a brief absence, he told of his initial feelings – that it would have been easy to make the decision to never return to the mountains that took his son’s life. Instead, he said, the community of hikers that reached out to him and his family, the strength, sympathy and support, reminded him of why he could not take that option. That evening, around the fire, as we celebrated the peaks made, and lamented those that beat us, we understood what he meant, and knew that this too was a family, that the mountains would always be there, and so would we.

Rest in peace Dominic, and peace to your family. And thank you to the members of the hiking forum that is an extended family to all who share their passion and energy.

(Prayer flag photo courtesy of billandjudy)

On the Saturday we drove in early from San Jose, and arrived around 1030…our first hike was up the closed, and iced, road to the Mariposa Grove of the Sequoias. We had brought our snowshoes with us, and did not need or use them, but really regretted not bringing our Stabilicers, which would have been perfect. The hike up is easy – two miles in and about 900′ of elevation – and the trees are surreal. To see trees that may well be over a thousand years old, that are 15′ in diameter, and are everywhere you look is breathtaking. We could have hiked a loop or two thru the grove, but since we only had two short days, we went back down and drove to the Valley.

Coming thru the Tunnel along Wawona Highway, there is an overlook immediately after the end (be prepared because it is right there!) – this is the first look at El Capitan, Half Dome, Sentinel and the whole Valley floor. Unbelievable is all that can be said. We spent a few hours in the Valley – hiked up to see Bridalveil Falls (very very icy – folks were sliding down rather than walk it was so bad), more pictures of Half Dome from the famous Sentinal Bridge, and drove back to out hotel in the park, the Wawona. Along the highway we noticed the cars ahead slowing, and upon reaching the area of interest, saw two coyotes looking for their dinner. As we slowed to take a picture, one popped up about five feet from the car!

The Wawona Hotel was built in the 1850′s, and is a great little place to stay, and an even better place to eat – the dining room was cheery, and the pot roast was to die for. One thing to note – when they say the rooms are without a bath, they mean it – it’s not like a B&B with shared bath down the hall, but it’s out back on the porch…

The next morning we decided to drive up to Badger Pass to see the ski area, and to break out the snowshoes…Badger Pass sits at about 7400′, and is a small ski area that looks like a lot of fun. We strapped on the shoes and hiked up a groomed cross country ski trail to the top of the former Badger Pass Ski Area – about a mile with a 200′ gain. We then followed the cat trails over to the top of the ski area, and hit our elevation high for the weekend of 7892′ – I was surprised I wasn’t more out of breath from the elevation, but we both did fine. On the return, we noticed some skiers had left the trail and skied through the trees back to the bottom, so we decided to head the same way – finally hitting some good knee deep powder, we had a lot of fun glissading thru the Sequoias to the top of the cross country run, and then hiked back to the lodge – about a 3 mile loop, with close to 500′ gain. The views of the Sierras from the top were – to overuse the word – breathtaking as well.

Unfortunately as we descended back to the Valley, the clouds rolled in and it started to rain, but we also knew it was time to head back to reality -

We left the Park by the Arch Rock Entrance, along Route 140 – do NOT do this if you come to Yosemite. I had heard about rock slides along the road, but had no idea the magnitude until we saw it – 300′ of the highway is simply missing, and has been for about a year and half…while they have a short re-route around it, they still have no idea how to clean it up without making it worse. The fear now is that to disturb it will cause a bigger slide, damming the Merced River, and flooding the Valley -

I absolutely hated to leave, and can’t wait to go back with the kids. I also would very much like to do the hike up the cables to the top of Half Dome, which is only open from May to about November.

The trail starts just off Route 3, south of Tupper Lake, and is pretty easy to find. There was ample parking, despite the fine day, and we set off around 11:30. Just beyond the register, the trail turns up a bit and starts out moderately steeply. This wasn’t too bad, though, nor did it last long before the trail moderates and becomes a fairly straightforward hike up the mountain. The only real issue on this day was the wetness of the falling leaves – I don’t like to drive on them, and thankfully hiking on them is easier, but there were still a few slippery spots. This trail is cut across quite frequently with run-offs made of roots or stones, and is in fantastic shape. Just before the summit, the firetower came into view, and we rounded the bend to find a beautiful vista in all directions. this day. The most intriguing views were in the opposite direction, to the lakes of Mt Arab and Eagle Crag. The shape of these lakes is interesting, and the color surrounding it on this day was spectacular.

The colors were amazing, and the peak is a great place to chat up other hikers and families, and other photographers. The view from here is so well known and highly regarded there were many folks with some serious equipment up here. We climbed the tower and had our breath taken away from the views – Whiteface was clearly visible beyond Tupper Lake.

In spite of the great views from the firetower, I was even more excited when I found the overlooks on the east side of the mountain. Several large rock slabs marking the summit provided a good view, but by climbing down to another smaller rock I was able to get even better views of the lakes.

As far as the Firetower itself, there is an interesting website published by the Friends of Mt Arab. As with many of the old firetowers in the Adirondacks, this one has been restored through the efforts of diligence of the faithful few, and I would encourage hikers who enjoy this trail to support their efforts, without which the tower would likely have been gone by now. In addition, one can climb the existing set of firetowers to complete the ADK Firetower Challenge – some are in the Catskills, but most are within the Blue Line. Given the opportunity for beautiful views, interesting hikes, and participating in an important part of the history of the Adirondacks, I think this is a worthy effort, and hope to get in a couple more before the year is out. This is also a great trail for kids, so bring ‘em with you.

BTW – I will warn that if you wish to take your dog with you, you will have plenty of company, so keep the leash handy. And to the folks last weekend with the muzzled cocker spaniel – if your dog is so ornery you need to muzzle it in public places, leave it home.

The hip has been healing nicely, and although there are still pangs of intermittent pain, for the most part, it’s fine, and at the very least, according to the x-rays, it’s fully healed! So, Mrs. Warlock & I headed off to the Adirondacks, and what a perfect weekend it was.

We drove up Friday morning, and spent part of the day in Lake Placid – and what day it was. The temp was around 70F, the sky was about as blue as could be, and the fall colors were just a tad beyond their peak, but still amazing. We then decided to drive up to the top of Whiteface – we probably should have hiked it, but we really weren’t prepared to do so that day, so we figured the views were still worth it on such a fine day. The views were spectacular – the colors were just faded a bit so as to look like a watercolor of the mountains. The temp dropped a bit on top (to about 56F) and the wind picked up, but it felt good to be out in the fresh air and sun.

We also decided on Friday to stop by the Adirondack Loj and to visit the ADK shop there – the photo at the start of this entry is taken there, behind the Loj, and looking over Heart Lake. It was so still, it was eerie…the colors were amazing, though, and we vowed to come back.

Which we did – the next day. We had wanted to take a moderate hike with our hosts, and decided to tackle Mt Jo, behind the Loj. As we got into the car and left for the Loj, the skies opened up and poured all the way there. As we pulled into the parking lot, the rain stopped – so we decided to move on to the trail.In terms of length and vertical, it seems to be an easy hike, but what it lacks in magnitude it gives back in beauty and intensity. Once you enter the trailhead you are given a choice of the Long Trail or the Short Trail – we chose the latter. The trick in becoming the Short trail is head to the summit as directly as possible, meaning there are some steep sections. Since it had just rained, some of the footing was a bit tricky – wet leaves on wet rocks always add to the challenge. Nevertheless, we made it to the summit in about an hour, and had some great views of the High Peaks area…even though there were some tall trees obscuring the view, we still could see for a great distance.

We hiked down the Long Trail, which it turns out is only .3 miles longer than the Short Trail. It was definately easier going, (especially for the short legged dog with us!) and we ended up back at the Loj about 2 1/2 hours after we left. As we went into the shop to find some updated maps and souvenirs for the kids, the sky opened again for the next hour or so – our luck was amazing that we were able to get the hike in between the downpours.

We drove back thru Lake Placid, and finished the afternoon at the Lake Placid Pub & Brewery – I highly recommend this place, especially the 46′er Ale and the spicy Fish & Chips. I only wish I had picked up a growler of the beer, and will next time.

To wrap up the day, we hung out on Lake Symond in Tupper Lake with friends for the rest of day – the hip survived the first real test quite well, but with the hike, rain, and beer, I dozed contentedly on the porch, listening to the call of the loons (OK, there was only one loon, but he did make one cry). It was, to say the least, a grand comeback.