"Wuussy Boy"

6/25/2015


Wussy Boy Part Two


These damn flies are pissing me off.  I may have to eat my meal first,  and then write this entry while in my tent.  It is almost 4 pm and about 95 degrees at 9,300 ft. in the mountains.  Forget that.  I am going to eat in this tent too,  although I may get cooked myself.

I am already being a Wuussy Boy,  as I was about to confide to you....... so I may as well let 10,000 damn flies chase me into this 110 degree heated tent.  My beef stew has not cooled enough so that I can choke it down. Wawawa Waaaaaaaa!  Think "Wuussy Boy!"

Whoopee!!!   A bit of a breeze,  just blew through this tent.  Ooops..... gone.....but now that we got one puff, I know for sure that more will come.  I am not an outdoors rookie, no nothing.   All I have to do is wait......and sweat.  More breezes are coming.  I just know it.
  

I am almost done with the beef stew.  Heck yeah, I know it is way too early for Supper!  I am trying to eat all of my food, so that I do not have to carry it one step farther.  I doubt I can do it,  but I am gonna try!

I did not plan on this journal being a "Went up this hill....okay, now I am going down it"  tedium,  of who gives a crap?  Honest.  If you have read my other journal,  you can attest to truth of that. Gawd.......I am sweating my balls off...... and here I had planned to freeze them. 

Hey,  besides trying to eat all the food,  I am also trying to find the Zen,  or whatever I

 can find to unwind just a bit........... before I totally freaking snap!!!!
  

I gotto shut down this phone for a minute it is overheating.  I will be right back.
  

Hey,  I will send you a picture of a mountain.....and also a "Fairy Slipper Orchid" flower.  Think "Lady Slipper" flower,  the Minnesota State flower,  only.....way tiny and way,way, rare;  according to the couple that was...... oooohing ........ and aaaaaahing.....and laying on their belllies beside the trail......while both of them were snapping 100 pictures.  This couple has hiked in the Himmalayas three times, and is going back again in September,  so they know a rare orchid when they see one.  Caught up in their exuberance,  I dropped my pack........... slithered on my belly,  next to my two new friends,  and photographed  these "Fairy Slipper Orchid" masterpieces for you !!  Enjoy.

No. those are not the orchids.  They are feet.

Not in Mountains Yet

6/18/2015


Not In Mountains Yet


Wednesday: Woke up at 3:30 AM thinking about "Monster",  the backpack that Reese Whitherspoon(portraying Cheryl Strayed) carried in the movie  "Wild".   Gawd.  That pack was a beast.  I layed there, awake till 4:30 AM thinking about Reese,  and "Monster",  on The Pacific Crest Trail.  ( I own and have read Cheryl's book.  Reese more likeable, and sympathetic than Cheryl).  Then I gave up, got up, and turned off the phone alarm, that was set to sound off at 5:15 AM.  Had two hours left to eat breakfast and brush my teeth, before my sister took me to the airport.

Finally got around to stuffing all of my gear into my own pack last night.  It weighed 25 pounds.  I was expecting about 22 pounds,  as I only have 3+ days of food packed for our first little jaunt up the trail.  It felt heavy when I picked it up.  "Ok... 25", I said to myself, "not so bad".  "I am glad I trained for this hike.  I'm ready".   I tell myself.  I am also glad that I trained without this pack.  Of course,  as I get a bit wider awake,  I remember that I forgot to keep my mosquito lotion in my quart  Ziplock bag,  with my battery pack;  so the TSA people can scope it out.
After repacking everything,  I remember that the  9 oz. battery pack is not in there yet.....nor the 8 ounces of fuel, that I will get in Denver.  Oh man..... my water bottles are empty, too...... so that is 25 pounds + 4 1/2 more!  My pack will weigh almost 30 lbs.  I don't know how that happened.  It was 27 pounds when I started the AT hike, at Amicalola Falls,  with 4 days of food and more winter clothes.   I am planning to carry about 1/2 pound more food per day,  this hike.  I am going to try to avoid being a human scarecrow, again, at the end.  I have a lot more protein.  On the AT for quite awhile, I thought that all I had to do was eat hi-calorie food.  Then I totally ran out of gas, when I got to Vermont, and more experienced hikers taught me about protein.  So I changed my diet, and got some legs back under me as result.

If that pack is 30 pounds with three nights of food.  It will be 35 with five nights,  and 40 pounds on the two long hauls; between Salida and Creede,  and then Creede and Silverton.  And then there are the times we will have to lug extra water, because this trail is pretty dry,  compared to the AT.  I am getting scared!  Don't think about it.  I am going to have to eat that already packed, extra beef jerky and the pecans, on the first day out of town, each time I resupply.  Yeah,  really chow down and lighten that load right away.  I can do that.

  

At the MSP airport,  the TSA give me a really....really, thorough inspection....everything out of the pack....body pat down,  residue sniffer pads,  and on and on.  I am not kidding.  They have me for a full half hour,  while the other passengers filter past me,  curiously wondering what I have done, but careful not to make eye contact.  Come on! Let's get serious here.  Do I look suspicious to you?  I call one of my other sisters, since I now have a three hour wait( see below) who says,  "Yah. You're the nervous type.  I would definitely spot you,  and be thorough."  Thanks sis.

No rush, it turns out as my flight gets delayed three hours, when the pilot calls in sick.   He probably got lucky last night, and hopes to,  again this morning.  I understand.

Met "Airborne" and "Sequoia" at the Denver Airport.  It is huge,  intimidating to me.   Later in the evening, we found out that the first two segments of the trail are closed because of flooding.  There is a lot of snow in the mountains.  I had seen it from the airplane.
"Hey, are those mountains still supposed to have all that snow?"  I had wondered,  as the plane did it's approach.  "Are those snow capped peaks, our peaks?"

Thursday:  We go to REI this morning,  to get stove fuel,  and hiker insurance for three bucks; in case we need to get rescued.  The guy asks us if we have our safety ropes.  "Safety ropes?" (He's funning with the tourists. Right?)
"That snow is melting fast.   Those creeks and rivers may be tough to cross." he warns knowingly.  (No, I am not going back to Minnesota.  "Lions and tigers and bears.....Oh my!")  Although it is 9:30 AM in the morning,  the guy looks and sounds like he voted for the recent legalization of Marijuana,  in Colorado.  Yes. Yes.  A long.... long time ago....in a land far..... far away( that's for you Star Wars affecionados), I did have considerable experience in that forum,  so I recognize it, when I see it.  No. We don't buy any ropes.  I can not fit one in my pack anyhow.

Afterthought: The cab driver that took us to REI. earlier,  looked like he had been in favor of legalization too.  We are in the right lane, on W.  Jefferson Ave.,  signaling for a right turn, to head north at a stoplight, at a major intersection....S. Wadsworth Blvd.,  and I say to the driver, that REI is two miles South on S. Wadsworth Blvd,  not North.  He says,  "Oh........ yeah",  backs up 40 yards, crosses 4 lanes of traffic, turns left across 4 northbound lanes, into the 4 southbound lanes, and we are good to go!   The guy was either stoned,  or planning to take a new northern route to REI.  Probably both.
Later that day, "Sequioa" has a package to mail home, so we catch our third cab.  (Hikers don't walk in town, only on the trail).  This driver, seeing three aging tourists, and having come to America because it is the land of opportunity, clearly recognized this particular one.  He drove us north on S. Wadsworth Blvd,  right past the Postal branch located in the little mall, a half block off Wadsworth, and headed purposefully toward a Postal branch that was 7 miles away.   After we had traveled several miles, and were now heading west,  and being an Eastsider,  I checked my Google Maps App for Post Offices, told my friends that we were being scammed.  And waited for them to set the driver straight.  It was "Sequoia's" trip, not mine, and I only just met him, so I waited a bit.  By the time,  I told the driver to go back to the first location,  we were only a mile from the distant PO.   "Airborne" and "Sequoia" both travel a lot,  and they are also more sophisticated and proper;  yes,  and more self disciplined than me.  I assume they accept small 20 dollar ripoffs as an incidental part of traveling.
I don't travel.  In a situation like this,  I am all Eastsider.

I drove a cab, briefly, myself, during one of the many times in my life that I was broke...... and desperate.  I did not last long at it.
I have never been timid, but driving at night, with a bunch of drunks and druggies, in the back seat, whose hands I could not see, made me uncomfortable.
The night that I made a run to Minneapolis, with a 50 year old male, his 30 year old girlfriend, and her two little children in the back seat, was my last night driving cab.  The man and the woman shared a crack pipe on the way over there.  I rolled down my window and did not breathe.  He went into the house, made his buy, and they smoked crack, in the midst of those two little kids....all the way back to St. Paul's East Side.
Although they tipped very well,  I realized that night, that the East Side had changed;  that I never could hold my breath very long;  and that I was not desperate enough to drive a taxi.  I make no claim to sainthood,  so I am wary of throwing rocks.   I do know the cab driver game, but I never took anyone for a ride.

"Sequoia" insisted on paying the whole fare himself,  saying that it was his trip and his mistake.  I try to stay cool, but I am sure he sees that I am pissed.  The cabbie is not a big man.
"I can take this guy.  I know it." I can't help thinking.  Rational thought is fighting to prevail over maleness. Common sense convinces me not to make a scene.  I do try.  So, I wait till "Airborne" and "Sequoia" get a bit ahead of me; then I go back to the cab, stick my head through the driver's window,  get right in the prick's face,  give him a big smile, and tell him to have a nice day.  I just had to let him know.  I had to.  If my two friends had not been there, I would have stiffed him completely, hoping that he would exit the cab trying to collect.
Yah.  I know.  I know.  I have been married....so I have been educated more than a couple times about appropriate civil behavior,  but I have to tell you that I am still a man.  I blame it on being male.  You women know what I am saying....I know you do.
And Yah, I know, I know, that in the heat of the moment, I have a tendency to forget that I am old, and weak, and slow.  And that scum bags don't always settle disputes with fists anymore.   I forget all that and only remember that I am a man.....a man who grew up on the East Side.

If you read on, you will see that everyone I meet on this hike, everyone from Denver,  and everyone in all of Colorado, will treat me like I am family,  will give me rides many, many miles out of their way,  will invite me into their homes, and feed me wonderful meals, and most important offer me their friendship; never noticing that I am a filthy, sweaty, stranger, who smells bad.

When traveling, if you take a cab, know how to get where you are going.....and smile.  
Let's get back to the Rocky Mountains.   "Hawkeye".

   

Colorado Trail

                                                                               
6/16/2015


                                                                                 Mountain Dreams


  I am going to hike the Colorado Trail, and you are invited to hike with me.  In announcing a new adventure, this first entry, a bit of nostalgia, is an attempt to give you a picture of my frame of mind regarding hiking,  other hikers, the hiking community, and the mountain experience.   It is an effort to understand the pull that hiking, and mountains have on me…..to know why it is now such a part of me. 

I miss the mountains.

It was almost a full year later………..a year,  after my brother "Wildman",  and I summited Katahdin,  ending my Appalachian Trail Journey………  that I realized,  I was beginning to miss mountains and to miss the people who hike them.   I have not written anything for awhile.  I miss that too.

As you know,  people who attempt a long distance hike,  usually have a trail name.  I think this helps to set us apart from our established identities, and assigns us all to the same rank.  We are all hikers.   We share that identity.   

A lot of long distance hikers are named by their fellow hikers along the trail.  But some of us name ourselves.  

I am "Hawkeye," of the James Fennimore Cooper novel,  "The Last of the Mohicans."

I read it in 7th or 8th grade.  One of those nuns at St. John's Grade School, Sister St. Timothy,  probably made me do it.  Or maybe my mom brought it home for me,  from work.  Her career was as a head librarian at multiple branches of the St. Paul Public Library System.    We usually forget,who exactly it was that steered us toward a certain path, in this case toward the love of books.  Mothers and teachers get only the satisfaction of knowing that they have done it.  Thank you.

  

The story "Last of the Mohicans"  was a living thing, it just grabbed ahold of me.  I saw myself in those woods with "Hawkeye".   I was right there racing through the woods, beside my namesake.   That tale is part of me.  It has  never released it's grip. 

On the Appalachian Trail,  I kept running into people who treasured that story like I did.   There was something truly mystical about that trail……mystical.   In Georgia, early in the hike, I was gabbing with two 20 something lads,  and one of them tells me that he has that book in his pack.  I can not conceal my,  "Yeah, right." look……….  so he digs it out of his pack to stifle my disbelief.  I feel a chill run up my spine.  

Up the trail,  in North Carolina,  I meet "Dozer",  just for an evening,  in the light rain, and he tells me that he has the sound track for the movie.  That he just loves it.  That it haunts him.  And I feel that chill again.  I love that movie…..I know that music….haunting is the word! 

Later, I am hiking with three weekend hikers,  in Virginia,  and  Richard turns on some music on his cell phone.  It is the music from the beginning of the movie, when the hunters are chasing the elk through the woods!   He tells me that he plays it at the end of all of his hikes, when he is approaching civilization again.  On that third occasion,  I know that I am "Hawkeye".  I am meant to be here.

I get nervous when I meet people.  As an ice breaker, when I would meet hikers on the trail,  the first thing that I would do is to tell them that my name is "Hawkeye", from  "Last of The Mohicans."   "No….not the one from "Mash".
I would admit that I named myself.   I always told them,  that the self naming was because I knew that if I did not have a trail name, my fellow hikers would surely name me "Never Shuts Up".   I used that spiel repeatedly with just about everyone that I met.  I hoped a little humor would make us all more comfortable. 

At the end of the 100 Mile Wilderness my brother "Wildman",  and I are inside a little store and restaurant.   It is all there is to a hamlet called Abol Bridge,  which is about ten miles South of the base of Katahdin.  We are just a couple of fast little rivers, left to wade, away.  You can see Katahdin,  the tallest peak in the state of Main, the Northern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail, standing tall in the background,  when you walk across that bridge.

Every northbound thru-hiker takes a picture of Katahdin from that bridge……every single person.  It is the vision of each of our dreams come to life.  Each hiker has to have a photo…..he just has to……   The sight of that mountain,  brings the emotion of a six month slow motion quest to the surface.   And right then each one of us knows two things, with certainty.  First;  that you are going to get there.  You are going to make it to the top.  And second;  that when you do……… you are going to cry.  So snap that picture.  We are almost there!

I am still up at the counter of that tiny store, arranging our campsite and showers.  The public campsite across the road is free, but does not have showers, nor a washer and dryer.  After 9 days on the trail, a shower will be nice.  "Wildman," who had joined me at Shaw's in Monson…..now a veteran of that nine days on the trail, is off to the side, looking at all the snacks and deciding what to eat first.   A woman and her husband approach my brother.   She points an arm toward me and asks, "Talks Too Much?"  My brother cracks up laughing and replies, "Yah………. that's him!"  Turns out I had met them back in Virginia.  She did not get it exactly right,  but she was close.

 The AT as I said……. truly is mystical.  One of the first people on the trail,  that my brother met,  North of Monson, was "Sunshine" who had left camp that morning ahead of her husband,  "Not Yet".   I was so happily surprised to see her.  I had met them both…..way….. way back in Georgia……. had really liked them……talked with them at least 45 minutes at a trailhead….and later had decided to myself,  that they might last 2 weeks…… and that I would never see them again.

 I began to introduce her,  to my brother,  "Wildman",  and she laughs and tells us that her name is Wildman, too.   I say "No,  your name is 'Sunshine'"!  And she says that her real last name is Wildman!    We see them,  a last time,  at the top of Katahdin.   "Sunshine ' tells us that she fell down while crossing the river,  could not get out of her pack……………  that "Not Yet ",  and two other hikers jumped in and pulled her out.  It is the same river,  "Wildman" and I realize……  where I got really annoyed with my brother for walking downriver out of my sight,  choosing a spot to cross……. and actually crossing,  before I got down there.  He is on the far side celebrating.  Instead of congratulations from me,  he got a stern yelled lecture……….. from an AT  'know it all'.   I told him that if he was alone and forced to take the chance, then yes,  you pick the best spot,  and go for it.  But since he was not alone,  he must always….always,  wait for his partner….in case he has a problem.  All thru-hikers know this.  "This is the 100 Mile Wilderness!"  I bellowed at him….. "You do not take chances,  out here!"

  

Sue, from Shaw's,  had picked up "Wildman" at the Bangor Airport,  and they became fast friends on the ride back to Monson.  Camping the last night at Katahdin Stream Campground,  before summiting the giant……..  a car going by our campsite pulls over, and Sue jumps out…..rushes over to "Wildman"  gives him a hug,  while joyously stating
"You made it!  I am so glad you made it!"  She has just shuttled a husband and wife….who become our most recent new friends, 115 miles north from Monson,  so that they can climb the mountain the next day….as we will….and start their third hike of the AT…… this time a southbound section hike…..their first rest stop being back at Shaw's.   They are both very fit and downright exuberant.  And we do see them the next day climbing,  and I mean climbing, near the top of the mountain……. as we carefully made our way back down.   He is 74 years old,  and she is 73!  So as I am trying to demonstrate, hikers are never just hikers.  Hikers are new friends.  Hikers, and the people who help them along the trail,  are somehow connected to each other.  We are part of a community.

I am not going to tell you about "Doc" and "Boone" here…..….two 21 year olds from Massachusetts……. now, infamous AT thru-hikers,  lads that I  met on their very first day,  at the top of Springer Mountain…… whose friendship I enjoyed….. off and on for 723 miles to Daleville……. and then never saw them again….. yup….. never saw them again.   But on that last day,  there they were…..almost 1500 miles later…….. on the Tableland……… near the very summit of Katahdin…. and "Boone" casually greets me as if he fully expected to see me right there.  "Hey,  Hawkeye!"  No.  I am not writing about "DOC" and "Boone".

So the AT is in fact, mystical.  And hiking it,  does bond you……. forever……  with the others who experience it.  

Somewhere in Maine……. probably 200 miles South of Katahdin,  I was taking a standing break and visiting with a woman in her 40's,  who was hiking with her teenage children.    They were out sharing a couple of late summer days of togetherness.  Anyone who has spent a couple of days hiking the AT,  going up and down those mountains, is interested……. when you tell them that you are hiking all of it.  

She was eager to hear about my hike….. asking many questions,  that I answered.  Then she asked me,  'what would I say was the trait that I have,  that made me want to thru-hike the whole Appalachian Trail?'
I responded without hesitation…."A total lack of common sense!"  I can see she is somewhat taken aback by my answer.  I knew that her question was a serious one.  And although there was much truth in my answer….I expected that her response would be laughter.    We keep talking.  And now she asks me a final question,  "What is the first thing, that you are going to do when you finish the trail?"
I respond,  "Throw all of this crap away……… and never hike again!" 

But now……… I miss the mountains……I really do miss those mountains.  And I miss being with the people…..people who share the joy of mountains.  

All along the hiking trail, and in the towns it passed,  I met people……people who were kind to each other………  people who enjoyed and accepted each other. ……… people interacting in a state of harmony.  It was just people living in a state of joy.   It was amazing! 

So I am going on a new adventure and mountains are involved.   The Colorado Trail has mountains………big mountains.  I am going to see those mountains.  Hawkeye.

The Very Best

12/7/2013


The Very Best


I am home now.  I have been home for almost three months.  But my thoughts are still filled daily, with the trail, and the people that I met while on it.  I talked to two of them this week by phone.  It was so good to hear their voices....to experience their personalities.   I think that I am beginning to realize just how deeply the AT has planted itself into me. 

I am gradually organizing photos and videos.  Yes.  I am reliving my hike.  Today I am immersed in the thought of water.... running water.

There is, I suspect........ one special place.... one experience...... for each thru-hiker on the trail..... that stands above everything else.... something so unexpected..... something so spectacular.... so mesmerizing..... that it overwhelms one's senses..... leaves you in breathless awe.
That moment for me, was the Beaver Brook Cascades, on the north face of Mount Moosilauke', at the start of the White Mountains in New Hampshire.  

I was blissfully unaware of and unprepared for the Beaver Brook Cascades.  Nobody told me.....I can not believe that nobody told me.

Two of us summited Moosilauke' together that day...... experiencing rain ...which briefly became small hail.... with two distinct lightning strikes.  We were exposed and did not linger up top.  I wanted off that flat, treeless, top.  Now!  We worked our way down to the shelter.  I think it was about 1500 feet below the 4800 plus, foot summit.  I will have to check the stats on those elevation guesses.  There were other hikers taking refuge from the rain, at the shelter.  Ironically, they had witnessed one of the two lightning strikes.  It hit a tree down there, not up on top, where we had been.  The person I had summited with had a sore Achilles Tendon, and decided to stay at the shelter with the others.  I decided to get off the mountain alone..... intending to stealth camp at it's base.  Hell.  It was only a mile and a half downhill.  I wanted to be fresh for The two Kinsman Peaks in the morning.  I was unaware of the difficult descent ahead and completely unaware of the cascades.
So it is that ignorance can be bliss.     

I know now..... that scrambling downhill..... on wet rock..... on that north face, is probably the toughest descent on the AT.  It demands total concentration.   But the cascades blunted my awareness of the descent.

Although I fell twice on the wet rock, I could think of nothing else.....no thought .......save that of  falling water....the sight and sound....the feel and taste, of rushing water.  I breathed the mist of rushing water into my lungs.  The cascades seemed a living thing.  For me.....it was the right time....the right place.  It was an intensely mystical experience.  I felt the overwhelming joy filling up my soul.  And the rain fed the cascades.

I had difficulty narrating.......emotion choking my voice.....as I stopped again and again.....and yet again...... to video the falling water.  I simply could not get enough water.
  

The cascades flowed down and down....and down.....unendingly.  And then they magically fell farther.  The cascades and I descended the mountain together.  For me....for all of my senses....for my mind...for my whole being....that falling water on the north face of the mountain, was my moment.... the absolute peak of joyous envelopment in natural beauty.
I was at peace......... and it was good.    

Home

9/11/2013


Home

Got home to Minnesota, about midnight last night, September 10th.....a day early.  After racing from Millinocket, ME, to Boston by bus, we discovered that hotels are very expensive near the airport. Duh?  Our tickets were for a flight in the morning.  But the need to get home had been turned loose, anyway.  My brother, "Wildman", and I, both just wanted to be home again....Right Now!!!  So we bought new airline tickets......wasting the others.  Once our paths turned homeward, as I said.....nothing else mattered.  We were going home right now.

We were the last two on the plane and seated in the very rear seats.  The other passengers had been waiting on us.  We were last because of our scramble to book a new flight to MPLS/ST. Paul  and because "Wildman" forgot that he had a folding knife in his pocket.  I chatted non stop, in panic mode, with a TSA Agent,  while "Wildman" was taken away by two TSA Agents.  I did not know about the knife, but I knew we were in trouble.  "Wildman" was gone twenty minutes, while they helped him pack up and mail the knife home.   This flight toward home being only my second, in a long, long time, as I explained at the start of this adventure,  I spent twenty minutes sweating.  Finally
"Wildman" appeared again, and we dashed up the ramp to those last two seats.  We flew from Boston to Washington, DC.  It was 90 degrees in DC, and still a reported 73 degrees in Mpls./ St. Paul.  We were dressed for 40 degrees and, Katahdin....

(Oh Katahdin!!!!!  I said the word just now....and I am back up there....up on top....way up on top....and it is clear.... and I can see forever....and the world is just so incredibly beautiful...and peaceful.  And I am so....so aware of everything...so alive.  I want to hold onto that...to make it last....to plant it deeply into my being....so the roots of Katahdin stay strong....with me forever.)

Then we flew another plane from DC to the Minneapolis/St. Paul Terminal....walked out the door....got hugs from my brother's wife...jumped in a car, and we were home.

I had gotten up earlier today, .... ate some apple pie.... weighed myself.... 146 pounds.... down from 175.  Oh my goodness.....  It is a long hike from Georgia to Maine.

Now I am awake again.  I just pulled on my pants and it occurred to me, that I have more pants!  I have more choices!  I am home!  My life has changed again, overnight.  I can not wait to see where it goes. 

But today...... I will wear my grey hiking pants again.....and those grey pants that hiked the length of the AT with me.... will keep a part of me........ right there.... walking up a mountain.... following a path of white blazes.... on the Appalachian Trail.
I am indeed..."HAWKEYE".....A MOUNTAIN MAN!

Another Maine Moose

This cow was having lunch and we had to ask her to lift her head up for the photo. 

Katahdin

We did it!!! September 9th 2013 at 10:15 Am.   I am Hawkeye,,,,  a Mountain Man !