The best laid plans…

With a clear destination and start date in mind, we went to planning out the details by studying the AT Guide to locate shelters and campsites where we would stay, and plotting water sources and potential options to enjoy a hot meal in a town.  As in years past, Jim and I both continued to fine tune our gear, looking for the most functional and at the same time, lightweight options that we could afford and/or justify.  At one point we calculated the cost to reduce ounces in our pack and decided not to fixate on “Necessary” costs. Several conversations and trips to outdoor stores later, our backpacks were loaded with gear and 6 days of food supply. It was time to hit the trail.   We met on a Sunday afternoon at the northern end parking spot and left Jim’s car there.  We then headed south to Waynesboro, PA for one more night of hot food and a comfortable hotel night’s sleep.  Monday morning, after taking advantage of the “All you can eat continental breakfast”, we made the 4 mile drive to the trailhead we had visited two years prior, grabbed our packs and took our first steps on the AT for 2023.  As in years past, walking away from a perfectly good vehicle on foot knowing that you have 93 miles between you and the end point always kicks in a healthy dose of adrenaline, as the reality of what is to come sets in.

Off to a good start…

Our first day on trail was going to be a short one.  In 2022, we had learned that attempting a 20 mile day before getting some trail legs is a bad idea.   With only 13 miles between us and the Quarry Gap shelters, we made our way through the relatively gentle terrain of southern PA.   We did have a pretty good climb coming out of Caledonia State Park, but aside from that it was really pretty easy going.   With my new state of being a single kidney owner/loaner, hydration was going to be more of an issue for me than in years past.   Because of that, we did not pass up too many opportunities to top off our water bottles.  We did learn that in this section of trail, the trusty FarOut app was a bit more pessimistic on the water sources than what we actually experienced.   We passed several water sources that were not even mentioned in the app.   Not that we were complaining, it was just the first year we noticed this discrepancy…or maybe we were just paying closer attention…and the inaccuracy did cause us to take an unnecessary .5 mile steep downhill trek (thus a steep uphill back to trail) to fill up at a documented spring.  What’s a mile or two between friends. Detours aside, we strolled into camp just before 2PM to be greeted by the nicest shelter we had ever experienced.  It had a rocking swing, easy access spring, planted flowers and hidden gnomes around just to make it interesting.  Over the next several hours, many more hikers showed up to make this on trail resort of sorts their home for the night.   We spent a bit of time with a hiker, whose trail name we both forgot, but said folks think he looks like John Lennon, a section hiker by the name of ADK, and a father/daughter duo by the names of Hatchet and Hobbit.  It was a fun first night and set our moods high as we looked to the days ahead.

Stretch goals…

Day two was planned to be just under 14 miles.  But Jim had been doing some map studying and saw that there was a state campground only 3 miles past our planned stopping point. Adding that extra distance would take day three’s 19 planned miles down to 16.   We did not immediately commit to extending our day, but planned to reassess as we reached the 14th mile.   When mile 14 arrived, we felt pretty good and pushed on to Pine Grove Furnace. To AT Hikers this is known as the home of the half gallon challenge….where hungry thru hikers attempt to eat a half gallon of ice cream in record time, marking the midway point on the AT.  Being only section hikers, Jim and I each downed a pint of ice cream and got ourselves a site at the state campground.   Unfortunately, it was another mile walk into our tent site from the trail.   Again, what’s a mile or two between friends. Shortly after setting up camp, our camping neighbors asked if they could park a car in our site as they were exceeding the vehicle limit per site.  Turned out it was a Mom and her Son from Maryland and a section hiker from Virginia that had met on trail and teamed up to slack pack a few sections together.   Jim, being the quick thinker that he is, agreed to allow them to park at our site in exchange for a shuttle the next morning to the trailhead.    Feeling proud of our negotiation skills there was not much that could dampen our spirits, that was until a crow snagged one of my bright red packaged granola bars from the picnic table and flew off with it as a prized possession.   My spirits were clearly dampened…while Jim seemed to find the experience altogether hilarious.

The Smokies…

We were awake quite early on day three, and after a shuttle from our camping neighbors, we were back on the trail for another day of hiking.  Up to this point, we had beautiful weather.  Mostly sunny and in the 70’s.   We had a brief sprinkle the night before, but not even to the point of needing to dry out our gear.   On this day, we started to notice a haze in the air and a smoky smell.  It was later that night that we learned about the smoke from Canadian wildfires that was overtaking much of the north east.  The hiking on day three was once again pretty mellow, traversing dense forests, the occasional farm field, and the very fun Rock Maze as we made our way to the Alec Kennedy shelter.  That night, we were joined at the shelter by a real nice thru hiking married couple from Austria that went by the trail names Nutella and Bane.

The Beatles…

Day four was going to be a big one, with eighteen planned miles, and a large portion of that going through open farm land and along hedge rows.  A few miles after leaving the shelter we descended to the first field section, and the sky was noticeably hazy still.   In short time we found ourselves in the quaint little town of Boiling Springs, PA.   We spotted a diner, Caffe 101, only about a football field’s length from the trail.   It was breakfast time and we decided we had earned a hot meal.  We sat outside as to not offend the cleaner patrons with our all-natural hiking scent.  Before we had even ordered, John Lennon, the hiker we had met on night one, came strolling up in his familiar straw hat and we invited him to join us and treated him to breakfast.   It was fun to get to know him a bit more and hear his story and what had brought him out on the trail.  After breakfast we continued north covering mile after mile of farmland.  At lunch time, we walked by a Mennonite farm stand that had drinks and snacks for sale, along with fresh veggies and eggs.   We took advantage of the picnic table outside the stand and made that our lunch stop, enjoying the ice cold Gatorades and even having a chat with the boy that was responsible for stocking the stand.  With full bellies and renewed optimism, we continued on our way to the Darlington shelter.  Once again, this spot proved pretty popular with the hikers, and there were probably close to a dozen thru hikers set up in their tents.  Jim and I were surprised we had the shelter to ourselves, well, until we were introduced to the three 6’ long black snakes that were living under a stump just outside the shelter. They slithered easily up and down the trees making us and the birds a bit nervous.  Fortunately they stayed in their stump, and we stayed in our bunks, and our paths did not cross in the dark hours of night.

Eight slices of heaven…

With our longest hiking day behind us, day five looked to be a fun one, with a walk through the town of Duncannon and about 16 miles to our next shelter.  This was our first day of some really nice views, which should have been a warning…there was going to be some climbing.   The descent into Duncannon was slow and steep and by the time we got there, we had worked up quite the appetite.  Fortunately, we came across a small pizza parlor was right on ‘trail’, and we felt it our civic duty to help support the local economy.   A large supreme pizza later, we were back on trail, which happened to be sidewalks for the next couple miles, followed by the toughest climb of the week.  After the big climb and some great views, the trail leveled out for a short bit.   We were just about to reach the Clarks Ferry Shelter for the night, and that’s when we met a guy that was leaving the gift of trail magic at the shelter.   He offered us each a lollipop…we first declined, but then he proclaimed they were the world’s best lollipops, so we each took one, and indeed, based on my sample set of lollipops consumed, they were the world’s best lollipops.   Later that night we were joined by a shelter guest who supposedly had been on trail for over a year and was heading north with his wife. She was oddly not present and there were plenty of reasons to not ask questions.   Weird circumstances aside, our last night on trail was relatively uneventful, and we were now only 13 miles from Jim’s car.

Light at the end of the tunnel…

Jim and I are usually pretty motivated to get off trail in good time on our final morning of hiking each year, and this year was no exception.   We were up early and back on our way by 6AM.  The morning trail followed a forested ridgeline for much of the way and then dropped down into the valley to the parking lot.  It took us a speedy 5 hours to put the last 13 miles behind us, and we were happy to see Jim’s car still sitting there, ready to carry us back south to Waynesboro for a celebration dinner.

…and that was it, section hike number 5 behind us.  Hiking the Appalachian Trail is always an adventure.  Between the physical and mental challenges, the great people you meet, the views, the trail magic, the towns, and the pain, it’s a love-hate relationship of epic proportions. With an accumulated total of five weeks on trail and 513 total miles behind us, the 1,680 miles remaining continue to lure us back year after year.  Every section we hike we look forward to reaching the end, and every day after we reach the end of that section we can’t wait to get back out there and do it all over again. 

I’ll take packs and things that fill them for $1000…

For those that are not obsessed with hiking gear, feel free to go back to your regularly scheduled programming. I won’t be offended.    If you’re still with me, let’s talk about gear tweaks I made for my 2023 section hike.

With 51 weeks between hikes, it gives plenty of time to revisit my gear selection, and this year followed suit.  I had been pretty happy with my gear from the prior year, but there’s always room for improvement.  I planned to hike with my REI Co-op Flash 55 pack again this year.   I finally decided that that top lid was no longer a necessity.   Top lids are a convenient place to store things you want quick access to, but they always flop over the pack awkwardly when you have to get in the pack itself, and dropping it saved a few ounces.   I can say for certain that I did not miss having it one bit.

The hip belt pockets that came with the REI pack always seemed a bit too small, so I replaced them with a couple larger pockets from Zpacks.  I also added a shoulder strap pouch from WEBO Gear to carry my phone.  

All of these mods, though relatively small, made a noticeable difference in the convenience of the pack.

The rest of my gear lineup had remained the same.

After this year on the trail, I identified a couple tweaks for next year.  I think I’ll be dropping my inflatable pillow and just using my clothes sack for a pillow.  I also need to look for some different meal choices.  The Mountain House Freeze dried meals are pretty good, but I think some variety would be nice.

…time to start planning for next year!

Planning…

I’ll admit that I take great joy in planning my various adventures in life.  Whether it’s figuring out the gear I’ll need, the route I’ll take, or the food I’ll snack on throughout the day, planning an event like a section hike is fun for me.  With only a little more than 300 miles of the 2200 miles the AT has to offer under our belt and having more life in the rear view mirror than we have through the windshield, we have come to realize that if we only tackle 100 miles each year, we’re gonna be mighty old by the time we get this thing wrapped up.   Given that sobering detail, we decided to up our game this year and tack on an additional day and about 20 more miles of trail to our week-long adventure.  After studying the trail maps for shelter and water locations, we decided that straying from our traditional southbound trajectory worked better for both our starting and ending days, and the days in the middle would work out the same no matter which way the compass pointed.   There were no convenient resupply options on this 120 mile stretch of trail, so we were going to have to start our week with all the food we’d need for the entire hike.

Getting there…

Friday morning I headed south from NY and Jim headed north from GA and we met on Friday afternoon at the north end parking lot in Rockfish Gap, VA and then drove south to Roanoke, VA, where we’d get one more night of running water and a non-freeze dried meal.   Saturday morning, with a good night’s rest, we made our way to the Blackhorse Gap Parking on the Blue Ridge Parkway by 7:30AM, where we’d pick up the AT and start our northbound trek.     

I guess I should have tested that…

In year’s past, we did our car shuffling the day we started our hike, which usually meant we’d be hitting the trail late morning.  Because of this, most of our first day distances were around 10 miles or so.   With the car shuffling already complete, we got an earlier start this year. Due to the shelter locations and amenities (ie. a water source), our first day on the trail would be 18.4 miles, with some descent climbing along the way.   The morning started off cool, but an early season warm spell meant temps would be reaching the mid 80’s.   Adding to the challenge of this already challenging day, we knew we had a 10 mile stretch with no available water, so a few miles in, we stopped at a small stream to top off our water bottles.  It was at this moment I realized I had not tested all my gear for this year’s hike.  I filled up my water filter bag and as I tried to squeeze some dirty stream water through my Sawyer Squeeze filter to fill my bottles, nothing was flowing through, not even a single drop of water.  At the same time, Jim’s filter bag burst at the seams.   Fortunately he had a spare filter bag.   As I borrowed Jim’s filter, he proceeded to try all sorts of tricks to get my filter flowing again, with little success…though it was starting to let a few drops of water through.  I’ll admit that I was a little uneasy knowing we’d have to go the next 116 miles with only one water filter between us.   The other mistake I made was to attempt to conserve my water from that moment of the day on…which would turn out to be a very bad decision and caused a bit of dehydration. 

The first day seemed like a longer day than it probably was, the result of the temps, the climbs, and a pretty big distance for not having built up any trail legs yet.  Before your trail legs kick in you climb a hill and mental and physical weakness coaxes you to stop where only your will keeps you going. Most hikers get their trail legs somewhere near week 2, but we have found the hike getting easier by day 3 or 4, either from reduced food weight in our packs or from warming up to the daily abuse. We ended up arriving at the Bryant Ridge Shelter just before 4PM, where we met a woman that was only two sections away from completing the entire AT.  …and then the miracle happened.  Jim and I were talking about my water filter issue, which still had not been resolved, when this woman said she had an extra filter that I could have…for free.   I was so relieved, this free filter was well worth paying for and I quickly grabbed a twenty dollar bill and did a ‘Buy It Now’ right there in the woods.  With that issue solved, I breathed a sigh of relief and started to enjoy our evening at camp. A girl from Michigan, who was thru hiking, showed up just before dinner time, and we all enjoyed some high quality freeze dried meals and random chit chat around the picnic table before the sun went down. Despite a less than perfect start, it was still great to be back on the trail.

Big miles and big climbs…

Day two is where we started to realize that this stretch of Appalachian Trail was not like the others we had tackled to date.   We had made the decision to cover about 23 miles on our second day.  This would be the longest single day for the week, and I think the idea of getting it done this early in the trip sounded appealing.  Well, where we went wrong was not looking carefully at the elevation profiles.   Not only was this a big mile day, coming right off a long first day on the trail, but we’d be starting our day with a 3,000’ climb and adding several other climbs to it throughout the day.  There’s not a lot of good I can say about this day of hiking.  It was hot, I was still paying for my bad decision to conserve water the day before, and we were on trail for about 11 hours by the time we arrived at Matt’s Creek Shelter, our stop for the night.  There we were greeted by a Dad, his daughter and her husband, and their two four legged hiking companions who were all out for a week long section on the trail as well.   We enjoyed the rest of the evening getting to know them a bit, while we attempted to recover from a very tough day on trail.

Short and Steep, and not so Sweet…

We started the next day with an ounce of optimism because we were only planning to cover about 13 miles to our next shelter and we already had 41 miles under our belt.   Once again, we failed to pay attention to the terrain, and shortly after crossing the James River, we were greeted with about 3500’ of climbing before we’d make our descent to the Punchbowl shelter.  It was high 80’s that day, but we were treated to several great views along the way and we arrived at camp with plenty of time to relax a bit.  The water source was great, so we took advantage of that to do some laundry at the campsite.  An Air Force retiree set up camp there for the night as well.  We chatted with him a bit about the next day’s wet weather forecast, where he assured us the storm would be brief, if it even hit us at all.

The odds of a trail tragedy…

The first few shelters we stayed at did not have bear poles or bear boxes for our food bags.  The night before, the other hikers hung their bags on the assortment of hooks and cords already in the shelter.  I admittedly was not completely sure of this technique and the next night Jim and I debated our options…well, I debated them, where Jim was convinced that hanging the food bags on the shelter hooks was more than safe and a visit from a curious black bear was very unlikely.  Jim seemed more concerned with hiking through a lightning storm the next day on trail.  Given the complete lack of suitable trees to hang a bear line on, I gave in to Jim’s way of thinking, though I wasn’t nearly as worried about hiking through a little lightning.

Jim was right…

Day four was going to be a 15.5 mile day.   We would start with some rolling climbs, followed by a 1500’ drop into a valley, and then we’d have a 3000’ climb before we’d reach our destination.   The day started out quite warm and sunny.  We stopped at about mile 9 at the Brown Mountain Creek Shelter for lunch.  This was the last stop before our big climb.  While we were eating a hiker came through, we exchanged a hello, but we didn’t really engage in much conversation.  He continued on his way as we finished up lunch. 

With full bellies, full water bottles, and a little over 6 miles to go til camp, we started making the steep climb up Bald Knob mountain.   2 miles into our climb, the skies started to get dark and the winds started to pick up.  We stopped quickly to throw our pack covers on in case it rained, but did not throw rain gear on, cuz it usually just makes us overheat.  It started to sprinkle a bit, then rain a bit…  As we gained elevation, the winds got stronger, the rain picked up, lightning strikes got closer, and it started to hail.  I chuckled to myself as I remembered Jim’s concern with carrying metal trekking poles through a lightning storm.   The 80 degree temps we had experienced earlier in the day had been replaced by temps in the low 30’s at best.  At this point we were completely soaked, and it was getting tough to stay warm.   There was very little shelter on the mountain, but we finally found a large rock we could hide behind long enough to get our rain jackets on.  We were both starting to get very cold and with a mile and a half to go wondered if we should set up a shelter or push on.  We decided to keep going.   Even with my rain jacket on, I could not get warm.  My teeth were chattering and it was the first time in all my years hiking that I actually realized just how quickly conditions can go from good to bad.   Jim knew we had to warm up, so once we crossed the peak, he started to run.  We are both trail runners, though not typically with a 30lb pack strapped to our backs.  Jim asked if I was OK running, and I was quick to say yes.  The faster pace was helping to warm things up.  We probably got down off that mountain in less than 15 minutes and soon found ourselves at the Cow Camp Gap shelter.  

Austin, the hiker we had seen at lunch, was already there and hunkered down under his quilt in an attempt to warm up.   The rain had brought with it a cold front, and we would not see temps get out of the 60’s for the rest of the week.  A girl, an accountant from northern VA who went by the trail name Star Gazer, was also section hiking and would show up shortly after us…equally soaked from the storm. The harrowing experience bonded us quickly and we knew that the climb and weather change was somewhat of a shared victory. On a nice sunny day I’m not sure any of us would be too chatty, but that gave us some laughs.  The four of us did our best to get dried out and warmed up as the already dark skies slowly faded to black for the night.

Hiking with Austin…

When you awaken to the sight of your breath rising in the morning air in front of you, it does not motivate one to crawl out from under a cozy quilt and hit the trail.  However, after a serious dose of procrastination, it was finally time to gather up my soggy clothes from the day before and start to tackle the 17 miles that were between us and our next night’s destination.   Though the clouds had receded, and the sun was shining bright, it was still pretty cold and very windy as we started our hike.   The day’s hike was going to take us up and over a half dozen 500’ climbs, but far easier than the last few days.  Despite the cooler temps, our pace warmed us up pretty quickly, and we took a quick break to drop some layers of clothes. 

At about that time, Austin caught up with us.  He was a thru hiker from PA and had been on the trail since early March.  We thought he’d hike right past us, but he decided to hike with us for the day.  As we chatted with our new hiking buddy, the day and the miles went by very quickly and we reached The Priest Shelter by mid afternoon.  It was a fun day on the trail, with temps never really getting much out of the 50’s.  The only downer to the day was seeing a big sign at our shelter declaring that the privy was CLOSED because it was…um…full!   I’m not saying that I’m ever really excited to have to visit the privy while on trail, but it sure beats the other options available.  A couple hikers showed up after us and took tent spots, and a hiker from the UK also joined us in the shelter for the night.   At an elevation of 3900’, it was probably the coldest night we had on trail.

Three Ridges…

Day six was going to be another short one, with only 14 miles planned, but they were not easy miles.  Austin was going to hike with us again, but was going to continue on beyond our planned stopping point.   The day started out with a couple hundred foot climb, followed by a steep 3000’ descent.  As soon as we reached the ‘bottom’, we immediately started to climb back up another 3000’ over a mountain called Three Ridges.  This was a tough and rocky climb with several ‘false peaks’ on the way to the summit.  We were rewarded by great views, and temperatures in the 60’s made it a pretty nice day. 

We arrived at the Maupin Field Shelter mid afternoon, and Austin decided to also call it a day.  This was a neat camping spot with several tent sites, a nice 6 person shelter, and a fully functioning privy.   A section hiker who went by the trail name of Nog already had a shelter spot claimed and a couple thru hikers, K Greenie and Lightning showed up a little later and took the last 2 spots.  Jim and I were sharing with them that we were classmates from a small town in the Catskills, and we were surprised to learn that both Nog and Lightning had lived not too far from there at points in their lives and were very familiar with our hometown and even hiked some of our local peaks.  It was a fun connection and reminder that in a big old world, we’re not as far apart from each other as we sometimes think we are.  It was a warmer night and we really enjoyed getting acquainted with our fellow hikers.

Making Tracks…

At this point we were only about 21 miles from the end of our hike, but we had planned to stop at mile 16 for the night and finish out with a short morning hike the next day.  Austin once again decided to hike with us, but he was going to cover the whole 21 miles and get a shuttle into a hostel and a resupply.  Jim always leads on trail and he must have been trying to get Austin to his destination quickly because we covered the 16 miles to the Paul C. Wolfe shelter in about 6 hours of moving time, arriving early in the afternoon.   We said goodbye to Austin as he continued north and we made our way to what was probably the coolest shelter site we had seen all week…a multi level shelter with a covered porch, overlooking a nice stream.  It was a great setting to just hang out after our last full day of hiking.   We were later joined by three ladies that were section hikers from Cape Cod, and the loft was taken by a bunch of thru hikers that arrived after sundown.

Ninety minutes to pancakes…

We have learned that a short hike on the last day on trail leaves a lot of time to celebrate before we both head back to our homes.   Our morning plan was to get on trail early and make quick work of the last 5 miles and find a place to get some pancakes and real brewed coffee.   We knocked out that last 5 miles in about 90 minutes and by 9AM we were sitting in a Cracker Barrel eating blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup.  With bellies full, we drove the hour and a half drive back to the trailhead where I had parked my truck and headed to our hotel for the final night.  We rounded out the day with a delicious meal at the Wasena City Tap Room, a cool pub in downtown Roanoke, where we reflected on the highs and lows of our week on the trail.  We had done it…one more section of the Appalachian Trail, 120 miles in one week, about 30,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, and nearly 20% of the AT now complete.   There was a lot to celebrate!

How soon we forget…

When it comes to section hiking and backpacking in general, forgetfulness may be a good thing.   Trail struggles are real…aches, pains, blisters, fatigue, stinkiness, all of it…it’s real and it’s not easy.  Every hike, there are moments where the idea of becoming a retired hiker crosses my mind…perhaps this year more frequently than other years.   But, usually during my car ride home, it seems the only trail memories I have are the highlights, the great views, the good laughs, the fun conversations, the people we’ve met…and I’m soon ready to sign up for the next one.   With only 420 out of the total 2,193 miles of the AT completed, there will have to be a lot more next ones.   As Charles Dickens wrote, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”  So far, the bests far outweigh the worsts and I’m just excited to get to the next of times.

Shifting gears…

This is the part of the article where those interested in the story but not the hiking hobby will probably want to tune out.  Every step of every backpacking trip, we are keenly aware of the weight on our backs, and the gear we’re wearing.   In fact, talking gear consumes quite a bit of trail time and a lot of the time between trail times.  It’s the never ending process of looking for that next lighter, better, more comfortable gear item.   This year was no different and I started the trail with a couple new pieces of gear.

Backpacks:  The last two years I have hiked with the Osprey Atmos AG 50L pack.  I’m a big fan of the Osprey packs and their anti gravity design features and the Atmos has been a solid and very comfortable pack.  But, the Atmos is no ultralight pack and I had been looking to shave a little weight.  After trying the Osprey Exos 58, the Gregory Focal 58, and the Sierra Designs Flex Capacitor, I finally landed on the REI Flash 55 and it was a phenomenal choice.   It comes in about 1.7 lbs lighter than my Osprey, has more accessible water bottle pockets, a very convenient roll top design, and a pretty lightweight brain for additional organization.  I added some shock cord to the front panel for carrying wet gear and I was very happy with this pack.  I was a little worried because some reviews talked about the hip belt either being too big or coming loose, but neither of those problems became a reality for me.  For a pack that you can often pick up for under $160 during the REI sales, it’s a pretty tough pack to beat.

Tents:  This year I left my Big Agnes Copper Spur UL1 at home and carried my new Durston X-Mid 1P tent.  The X-Mid 1P is a trekking pole tent that dropped my tent weight ½ lb and added a ton of vestibule room for my gear.  All that said, I did not use my tent once on this section hike, and I was pretty happy about that.   I’ll always carry a tent, because you can’t rely on finding a spot in a shelter, but if I never once have to set up a tent on trail again, I’m completely good with that.

For the next section hike, aside from buying a new Sawyer Squeeze filter, I don’t anticipate making many gear changes.  I might fine tune my clothing options, but that will vary each year depending on the weather we anticipate.  I do plan to change up my food options.  Fewer Clif Bars and more salty snacks will be on next year’s hiking menu.

We both enjoyed the 100 mile’ish distance, so we looked for a section of the trail that would accommodate that distance and was located somewhere centrally between my home in upstate New York and Jim’s home in Georgia. After some fancy Googling, we ended up picking the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia.   

The cost of an ounce…

After starting out my first backpacking trip with a loaded pack weight of nearly 40lbs, I had made it my winter goal to reduce weight, at nearly all costs…  A new tent, different headlamp, smaller pocket knife, lighter water filter, fewer clothing items, cutting straps off my pack and a handful of other changes and I had reduced my base weight from 22lbs to just under 19lbs and brought my total pack weight to just under 34lbs.

With my pack, and wallet, significantly lighter, we had settled in on a mid May hike.   Well, until COVID hit and the world shut down, including Shenandoah National Park.   After a few other hurdles, we finally locked in on a week in October for our next hiking adventure.

Oh Shenandoah…

Shenandoah National Park straddles the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia.   The Appalachian trail through the park runs from Front Royal on the northern end to Rockfish Gap on the southern end.   Sticking strictly to the main trail, the distance between these two points is 107.7 miles… but side excursions to huts, water, and waysides will quickly get you up over 110 miles of total hiking.

We started at the Front Royal end, hitting the trail mid morning on a Saturday.  Greeted by a cool morning, we made our way along the predominantly uphill trail from Rt. 522 to our first campsite, about 14 miles from our starting point.  A few things we quickly learned about hiking this section of the trail.   Lean-tos or shelters are called huts in this neck of the woods.   There are also limited places to pitch a tent at the designated campsites.   Our experience the prior year was that the campsites had lots of wide open space around the shelter for tenters.   Given COVID concerns, we had planned to use our tents on nights where we couldn’t have the huts to ourselves.  This meant getting to camp early enough to claim a spot for the night was a necessity.

The Daily Routine…

Backpacking has a routine.   Every morning starts with the clean up, pack up, eat up routine.  Typically done simultaneously to get on the trail.  Hiking in mid October meant limited daylight hours.   We had done a better job this year laying out our nightly destinations to even out daily distances, but with a few days pushing the 20 mile mark, the 11 hours of daylight, didn’t leave a ton of room for hanging around camp in the morning.   No matter how much we attempted to speed up the morning operations, we were usually on trail right at 8AM.   We would typically hike a pretty good clip, and even with stops for snacks, lunch, and filtering water, we’d cover our 18+ miles in about 8 hours, arriving to camp around 4PM each day.

Remote, with conveniences…

The Appalachian Trail through Shenandoah parallels the Skyline Drive, and crosses it from time to time.   Though you never hike through any towns, there are some wayside stores, campgrounds, and lodges that can usually be reached by a short detour off trail.    The Skyland Lodge was one of those stops for us.   We both snagged a pre-packaged sandwich, some chips, and some high calorie candy snacks.  I can’t say that I’ve ever had a pre-packaged sandwich I’ve enjoyed more.   An equal amount of joy was experienced at the Loft Mountain Campstore where they had a ‘mix up your own milkshake’ machine.   Under a covered breezeway, we shared caloric euphoria with several other hikers in varying states of fatigue, achiness, and dirtiness. 

Two of our six nights on the trail, we also took advantage of staying at one of the campgrounds along the trail.   This helped us keep our daily distances a bit more even.   We stayed at Big Meadows Campground on Monday night and Loft Mountain Campground on Wednesday night.   Though, not quite as peaceful or serene as the hut sites, it was nice to have access to running water a couple times through our week.   At Loft Mountain Campground, a fella from New York City who was our campground neighbor took pity upon us and gave us some firewood for a campfire. Later that evening, he joined us around the campfire to solve the problems of the world for a couple hours.

True Colors…

One of the perks of hiking in October is seeing the fall colors.  It wasn’t quite peak yet in Virginia, but many of the trees were exchanging their greenery for hues of red, orange, and brown.   And, though the 24,000 feet of elevation gain through Shenandoah National Park was a challenge, many of the summits provided never ending views of the autumnal display.

Chasing Seth and Amy…

I’ve read that thru-hikers on the Appalachian trail end up seeing the same hikers or groups of hikers along their journey on the trail.  As section hikers, we had never experienced that.  Our first night on the trail this year, the prime tent spots had been taken, so Jim and I set up our tents practically right on the trail.  A while after we made camp, a couple came in, and faced with a similar shortage of great tent sites, ended setting up camp right near us.  Other than a casual hello, there was nothing significant about our interaction.   They were pretty efficient at their morning routine and hit the trail before us the next day.  Jim and I, despite no longer being able to check the 25-30 year old age box on any customer surveys, hike at a pretty good clip.  We ended up catching this couple mid morning after a grueling climb that seemed to go on forever.   We didn’t see them again while on the trail that day, but once we got to the next hut site, there they were, getting ready to set up for the night.  We didn’t know where they passed us, but likely during one of our water filtering stops.   That night we finally learned that their names were Seth and Amy and they were from Maryland.  We also learned that they were hiking the same section of the trail that we were hiking.   For the next four days, we’d leapfrog each other, oftentimes staying at the same campsite at night.   It became the common theme for the week, we’d be wondering where Seth and Amy were, and they’d be wondering when Craig and Jim would pass them.   The last night on trail, we hung out by the hut getting to know each other a bit more and sharing some hiking stories and laughs from the trail.   The next morning, they got the jump on us and were well ahead of us for our last 8 mile leg.   Somewhere around mile 6 we caught up with them one last time.   We saw them again as we were loading up our car and they were just getting off the trail…we exchanged energetic waves as we each ended our week in the woods and prepared to return to everyday life.   We will likely never see them again, but I finished that week knowing we had made some new friends.

Changing Gears…

For the gear junkies that are following along, the two biggest gear changes for this year were my pack and my tent.  Last year I had hiked with the Osprey Atmos AG 65.   I loved the pack, but it was a bit bigger than I needed for a week long summer hike.   This year I used the Osprey Atmos AG 50.  Dropping 15 liters of capacity only dropped my weight by 5.5oz, but the more compact pack made for a better carry.   I also left my Big Agnes Copper Spur one person tent at home in favor of the Six Moon Designs Lunar Solo.   This single wall, trekking pole tent added more interior room and shaved about 12 oz. off my prior year weight.   The downside was that a single wall tent has a lot more condensation.  As much as I enjoyed the extra room and weight savings, the condensation was a hassle.   Some of our nights dropped into the low to mid thirties, so maybe that added to the challenge, but for next year, I’ll probably be going back to my old tent or looking for a new option.

We the people…

Aside from the challenges and the beauty of the trail, I think one of the things I most enjoy is meeting the people on the trail.   We were not sure what to expect, hiking in the midst of a pandemic and all, but if hiking isn’t considered socially distant, I’m not sure what is.  However, we did meet a lot of hikers along the way.   Not much conversation took place during the daily hiking, except at the occasional scenic overlook or water stop, but once we got to camp, things were a little different.  It’s always fun to hear what brings a hiker to the trail, because they all have a story, something that makes them leave the comfort of home to get out and spend some time in nature.  We met a trio of women that became friends through some Meet-Up hiking groups in Florida and they were out doing the same section of trail that we were doing, just northbound.  We met some first time hikers on their first night on the trail, a couple brothers that just realized they were brothers six decades into life and were getting to know each other, some seasoned section hikers, and a couple father and son duos out for a weekend in nature.   We also ran into a few thru-hikers that were trying to beat the cold weather to Georgia, and at the pace they were going, I’m sure they will do fine.   Some hikers keep to themselves, others want to talk gear, some want you to be sure to know they are in the know about all things hiking.  Most would ask how Jim and I got into hiking together, and it was always fun to tell them that we’ve known each other since Kindergarten and a moment of weakness at a class reunion started this new found obsession.   

Speaking of people, someone find me a stump to stand on…

Since there are no soap boxes in the forest, I figure a stump will do.   My week without connectivity to the outside media world was a gift.   …and there’s one thing I learned from it.   On the trail, there are people from all religions, races, genders, ages, economic statuses, educational statuses and political affiliation.   But, you would not know it.  Because, on the trail, we are all hikers, and that one common bond alone is enough to make any other difference not matter.   On the trail, everyone is willing to lend a hand, give a trail tip, warn other hikers about a long stretch with no water, share some food, give up some of their precious filtered water so that a hiker short on water can have a cup of coffee, make room at the picnic table, and lift up and encourage each other.   It does not matter if a person is a day hiker, over nighter, week long section hiker, or a thru-hiker on a 6 month journey.  On the trail, we are all just hikers.   We commiserate together about the tough climbs, and we celebrate together the small victories.  It’s sad to me that as a nation, we’ve lost sight of that common bond of being ‘Americans’, and instead of working together for a greater good, we tear each other down at the earliest chance we get.   Perhaps we all need to spend some time on the trail and learn to embrace what we have in common and learn to appreciate what we don’t.

Happy Trails…

The Appalachian Trail through Shenandoah National Park proved to be a real treat. As we made our way south, the trail would continually change personalities…occasionally flat and fast, other times rocky and steep, with a mix of less technical but seemingly never ending climbs thrown in just to make things interesting. Water was abundant and campsites were close enough together as to not make for unbearably long days. Add to that spectacular views and abundant sunshine, and the end result was a great week of hiking.

Shepherd’s Pie…

This year, we were pretty confident in our ability to get off the trail in 6 days, so we already had a place to stay booked for that last night.   We tried to find something conveniently located to an establishment that would serve some delicious hoppe goodness and pretty much any food that wasn’t prepared by adding boiling water and letting it sit for 10 minutes.   Somewhere along the way, Jim got it in his head that he wanted Shepherd’s pie that last night.  I don’t know why, but it became his weeklong obsession.  Despite my warnings of likely disappointment and as bad luck would have it, the only Irish Pub in Front Royal, VA had gone out of business earlier this year.  Jim handled the news quite well, and finding a micro brewery that served some corned beef, albeit wrapped in rye bread in the form of a reuben, seemed to provide some contentment.   Despite the disappointment, our first real meal in a week was beyond delicious, and gave us some time to reflect on a nearly perfect week of hiking and start planning next year’s adventure.

You probably wouldn’t understand…

Life on the Appalachian trail is pretty special.  It’s fun, but not all fun.  It’s hard, but not too hard to handle.  It’s exhausting and rejuvenating at the same time.   It’s work and play all wrapped up in one package.  It’s three quarters of a marathon up and down mountains with thirty pounds on your back, repeated daily, for six days in a row.  It’s taking that next step when you don’t really think you have another step left in you.   It’s really an experience quite like no other.   I wasn’t home a week and I was already looking forward to the next time I could get back out on the trail.   I’ve tried to explain the experience to my friends and my family, but most of them only hear the words one hundred miles, no showers, bear boxes, freeze dried meals, and they look at me like I’ve lost my mind.   …and perhaps I have, I don’t know.   But, maybe, just maybe, losing one’s mind every once in a while is the perfect way to find one’s soul.

…but today, I reported to my classroom for the first time since March 12, 2020. It’s almost time to close up shop for the summer.

As I approached the doorway, I couldn’t help but notice the “Pandemic Cleaning Checklist” that hung on the door. I pulled my mask down so I could anxiously exhale and clearly view the steps our custodians took to make the environment safe. Then, I turned the key and entered.

Everything else was just as we had left it. The setting was eerie, in mildly post-apocalyptic way.

Lucas’ handwriting greeted me from the whiteboard — in bold purple marker, it reminded me of his campaign to be my favorite student.

Our field trip bus request and permission forms peeked out of a yellow folder I had prepared for an upcoming special event I had planned with some of my teacher soul-sisters from other districts.

A few leftover Class of 2020 t-shirt order forms puddled up on a student desk near mine.

I quickly sprayed the markerboard and wiped it clean. I tossed the order forms and the field trip folder into the trash. Many other stacks and bundles followed. I purge. It’s what I do to put the past in the past.

For over six weeks, I have maintained communication and connection strictly through digital means. I have driven past homes, honking and waving at precious friends in their yards and I have briefly chatted with my parents in their driveway when I dropped off supplies.

Folks, it is not the same. You can see the proof in the photo on the left. That woman has had limited real human interaction for the last month.

Do you see the fear in her eyes?
Do see the darkness?

Now look at the face on the right. That face is relaxed, smiling, and glowing. That is the face of a teacher who is back in her element, hitting reset, reflecting, and making plans for the future. It’s the countenance of a woman who spent just a few minutes chatting eye to eye with colleagues in the high school hallways. These images were taken just a couple of healing hours apart. Clearly, face-to-face interaction is a steroid, and we all need a shot.

I am not mourning any longer.
Our students are going to be okay.
We are going to be okay.

We have to allow ourselves to be.

Ready yourself to overcome this.
Plan to put the past in the past.
Prepare to purge the fear.
Get ready to glow!!

I was born into a family of car lovers.  My dad’s dad, was a huge car buff, and though his preacher’s income didn’t give him the opportunity to own the latest and greatest vehicles, he’d still make the annual pilgrimage to the local Ford, Lincoln, and Mercury dealers to check out the newest models and come home with the new brochures.  Yes, there were other car brands, but they might just as well have been manufactured by the devil himself.   Though, he did once tell me he married my Grandma because she came with a Pontiac.  

My dad inherited this same love of vehicles, along with his siblings.  The recent Facebook trend of posting car pictures brought a smile to my face, because my dad actually had a photo album of all the cars he had owned over the years.   As a kid, our Sunday afternoons were often filled with taking drives, oftentimes those drives were down off the mountaintop to the big city of Catskill, NY to drive around the car lots, so we could browse without the pressure of a commission driven salesman.  

It’s really no surprise that my brother and I are both car fans.   Even my uncle on my mom’s side was a car nut.  We were doomed.  Starting out with our collections of Matchbox cars as kids, we both could not wait to get our first set of wheels.   The freedom of owning a car of my own, even if that car wasn’t much to look at, was a freedom worth working for.   Summer nights with the windows down, music blaring, and the twisty mountain roads are still some of my fondest memories.

Now, there’s something I have learned over the years.   Not everybody loves cars the way I do and the way my family has.  Rumor has it, that for some folks, cars are simply transportation.  As hard as that may be to believe, I have witnessed it with my very own eyes.  People buying cars based on things like practicality, fuel mileage, and even reliability.  Three variables that have never once influenced one of my car buying decisions.

Being the curious type, I decided to do some research into this phenomenon.   According to our friends over at Merriam-Webster, Transportation means an act, process, or instance of transporting…which then led me to research the word transport….and here’s where it all became very clear.  

There are two very different definitions for the word transport…

1  : to transfer or convey from one place to another
2  : to carry away with strong and often intensely pleasant emotion

It appears that my family completely skipped over definition 1 and went directly to definition number 2.   …and much to my surprise, there’s an entire population stuck on definition number 1.   Can they be saved?

You see, for me, it’s both the joy of owning a vehicle that strikes an emotional chord deep within my being, and the act of driving that vehicle down a country road or any road for that matter, that carry me away with a strong and often intensely pleasant emotion.

When I was in Kindergarten, I’d ride to school with my dad.   He was a high school English teacher in our one building K-12 school of 500 kids.   My dad drove a Plymouth Roadrunner back in those days.  A muscle car with a 383 cubic inch engine and a cartoon character on the side of it, what could be better.  It was a different time back then, and on more than one occasion, we’d experience a spirited ride home in reaction to one of my dad’s hot rod driving students referring to his pride and joy as a Road Chicken.   On those days, these particular students were schooled in far more than the subject of English.  

I’ve owned quite a few vehicles since my first car purchase.   Some of those purchases were purely emotional, an uncontrollable urge to own a particular vehicle, often influenced by the horsepower rating of the vehicle in question.   Other purchases were made for financial reasons or the necessity of affordable insurance, often a problem brought on by actions taken in a previous vehicle purchased primarily on horsepower ratings.   I can say that never once have I made a purchase based on a consumer reports article.

There are really very few things that are more enjoyable than taking a drive solely for the purpose of taking a drive.  Pulling out of the driveway, with no planned destination, no planned route other than seeking out only backroads, and letting the drive take you where it wants you to go.   Any vehicle, when used in such a manner, can provide great amounts of joy and satisfaction.   Now, I will say that having the right vehicle for the particular ride will certainly increase the grin factor.

But, let’s not forget the pure joy of vehicular ownership.   Purchasing a vehicle is no small feat.  Not only does it require a significant outlay of cash, but even the negotiation and buying process can be overwhelming for some.  For those reasons alone, you should always buy a car that makes you smile in some way…whether that be for the color, the shape, the emblem, or the powerplant hidden beneath the hood.   The best kind of car is one that causes you to turn around and take a second glance as you are walking away from it in the parking lot.

My dad bought a lot of cars.   There was always a clever dose of justification given to my mother before each purchase, but the underlying reason was always the fact that he just wanted to buy a new car. It was one of the things that gave him the most joy in life.  When my brother and I followed in his footsteps, this was one area where my dad did not have a parental leg to stand on.   What a glorious thing… youthful foolishness completely immune to parental criticism.

Well, that was until the year Two Thousand and Eleven.   

Ever since my Matchbox car days, I had a dream car. When I was 9 years old, I spent my hard earned allowance money, which was fifty cents a week, on a Porsche 911 Carrera Matchbox car, painted in what may have been the ugliest shade of metallic brown ever to leave an aerosol can.   …but despite the paint color, that’s when it happened.   From that moment on, my vehicular compass pointed directly towards Stuttgart Germany.   Even my second vehicle, a 1978 Volkswagen Scirocco with a mere 68 horsepower, displayed enough of that fine european handling that it only solidified my position that I wanted to own the ultimate German sports car.

My first job out of college was at Eastman Kodak Company.   Though I thoroughly enjoyed my years there, it was at a time where the world no longer needed film and paper to capture a photo.  Given this interesting time, the guarantee of lifetime employment no longer existed, and it only seemed prudent to set aside some money in the event that my relationship with my employer was cut short due to corporate cost cutting efforts.  Fortunately this never occurred, however, I did decide to part ways with Kodak and move to a company with a brighter future.  Shortly after changing jobs, my buddy told me about a very reasonably priced seven year old Porsche Boxster that he had seen on a car lot.  No longer in fear of losing my source of income, I traded my layoff fund for that Porsche Boxster.   Though it still wasn’t the 911 Carrera that I had set my sights on in the mid seventies, it scratched nearly all of the itches, and was an extremely fun vehicle to drive.   If you’ve never driven a Porsche with a flat 6 engine, and experienced the spectacular howl it lets out as the tachometer approaches the redline, you probably would not understand the sheer joy it brings.

I drove that car for the next 5 years, making some modifications to personalize it to my liking, and then a miracle occurred (at least that is how I interpreted it).  Through a series of conversations, I learned of a friend of my brother that was looking for a sports car…and boy, did I have a deal for him.  With a guaranteed sale in hand, I started to scour the classifieds for an affordable used 911.   It did not take too long until I located a very reasonably priced 5 year old 911 Carrera sitting on the showroom floor of a Nissan dealer in Wichita Kansas.  When I shared the news with my dad, something terrible happened, that disapproving tone that I had experienced many times before, was there.  “Why do you need to buy a different car?” he asked.   “Your Boxster is perfect and plenty fast”.   My dad’s hesitation was likely warranted, due to the damage I had once before caused to a high powered sports car in a moment of poor judgement and zealous acceleration.  But, as I had many times before, I filed his caution in the undue parental worrying bucket, and in March 2011, I jumped onto an airplane with my 16 year old son, flew to Kansas, and drove my new-to-me sports car home.   Before I even got to my house, I stopped at my dad’s to show him my dream car.   He looked it over carefully and showed some cautious enthusiasm, but I could tell, he still had not warmed up to the idea.

A couple weeks later, my son and I drove over to visit my dad.  As we were talking, my son said “Grandpa, you should drive Dad’s new car”.  My dad’s health was not the best, but he agreed, and we made our way out to the 911.  My dad took the driver’s seat, I jumped in the passenger seat, and my dad handed me his oxygen tank to hang on to…yes, you just read that correctly   We made our way out of the village, and turned on to a 55 MPH stretch of road that passed through miles and miles of farmland.   As he rowed through the gears, he gave it a heavy dose of throttle, and soon we were approaching twice the posted speed limit as we made our way through the countryside.   I can only assume that if observing the speed limit is lawful, observing it a second time is twice as lawful.    We got to a good turn around point and he broke the rear end of the car free as he once again put the car through its paces.   He looked at me with a great big smile and said “man, this power is addicting”.   It was at that very moment I knew, my dad approved of my latest car purchase. 

You see, a car is far more than mere transportation.  This is something my Grandpa was keenly aware of, my dad was aware of, and I am aware of.   A car is the gateway to adventure, a source of freedom to explore, a generator of smiles, and a moving memory maker.  Some of my best memories are of times riding in a car with friends and family experiencing life on the open road.   

During these days of quarantine, a lot of our normal activities and hobbies are off limits  But, you can still take a ride.   So consider packing up the kids, throw some snacks in a backpack, jump in your transportation vehicle of choice, head out onto the road and turn, in any direction, and just drive and see where it takes you.  You may just realize that your transportation vehicle wants to be far more than transportation, and just wants to “carry you away with a strong and intensely pleasant emotion”.

My Readers… I wrote “The Angry Man – COVID19” with appreciation of personal risk related to the readers of this current and highly emotional discussion. I also considered the temptation of some to classify this article as “Conspiracy theory” which often groups unconventional and unconstrained sharing of ideas.  In the end, I decided to publish this opinion paper that some will agree with and others will not. My hope is that you take the time to read it and that you consider its content with your objectivity (experiences and education you have acquired). My optimism is ever present in individuals and organizations where leadership is constantly critically learning through active measures to acquire knowledge. — Jim

I don’t know about you, but I am starting to get my dander up every time I hear that we need to “Shelter in Place” for the goodness of all humanity. If we don’t follow that instruction, death will happen, and it is a certainty. If it is not you that dies, you will bear the guilt of the “Carrier” or be the cause of another’s demise. And yes, that person, “You” killed, will most likely have been old or have some type of affliction that made their previous life at least a bit more miserable than yours. How dare you! How did we get here? It is like the perpetual optimism I usually enjoyed has left my brain and has been replaced by a cynical and artificially directed member of an ant hill. It may be this home security prison that is getting to me or the ever-building distrust I am gaining by observing the airwaves. Personal and destructive agendas wrapped in a caring tone of voice seem to be exploiting emotional distress for gain. COVID19, I know you are an enemy of the Nation and world, but I believe you pale in comparison to those devious in power using your existence to strengthen themselves. 

Men have created things about COVID19 that tick me off. The initial predictions for infections and mortality changed, a lot. That, followed by changing definitions for how to count the dead and diagnosed are the most perplexing and frustrating in the spotlight for me. I am paying attention to these things like most Americans. How can an epidemiologist go from predicting 2 million to under 60 thousand deaths for the USA within two months with the same considerations of social distancing? To my scientists: that science is not trustworthy and should embarrass the college that graduated you! I am angered since I feel as if we as a Nation are being led like helpless sheep by persons or groups with influence and something to gain which is not in the vast majorities best interest. “They” would sell their soul to improve or secure their position. Is it right to cause panic across the entire realm of what we used to call rationality of society? Can the number of ICUs or hospital staff ever be large enough to keep every patient alive? We are all mortal, right (sorry for the cynicism)? 

On April 16, 2019 the CDC redefined what deaths will be counted as COVID19 deaths. The newest change will now include those patients in the COVID19 cause of death pile if their death is suspected to be associated with COVID19. This is like washing away other mortality causes to a large extent since most who die in ICUs today require breathing assistance and many perish from pneumonia-like symptoms. In fact, hospitals have tracked a specific measure of quality called Hospital Acquired Pneumonia (HAP) for years now wanting to make sure hospitals were not the place pneumonia was acquired because of an unsterile environment. Pneumonia, noted upon admission, impacts many deaths of patients admitted for the top causes of death in the nation. Pneumonia will likely not be listed as the primary cause of death if the bodily systems were already weakened by failing systems (i.e. Heart failure). COVID19 will seemingly now trump other causes of death primary diagnoses even when weak bodily system created a mortal opportunity. Will the COVID19 presumptive diagnosis capture all those previously deemed pneumonia’s and jettison COVID19 in the ranking of primary causes of death? I think it is likely. Being isolated is an expectation while an ICU patient and the intensity ration of staff for care is very high. While we change our diagnostics to add new groups into the COVID19 category we must realize reimbursement for care, vents, etcetera is highly linked to these diagnostics. This environment in our hospital system will lure staff (clinicians and administrators) to target the right diagnosis that leads toward the money. 

Political posturing should make everyone on this planet furious. Budget proposals including right and left wing add-ons without association to defeating COVID19 or helping the public affected by its presence are prevalent. Name calling is quickly the tact of elected leaders versus working to find amicable solutions. Leadership divides along party lines without consideration of debate or credibility of arguments. There is a self-centeredness larger than ever before in history based on “Power.” Federal, State and County Leaders are examined prejudicially or preferentially based on the Republican or Democrat suit they wear. Within our largely two-party system we have forgotten that dignity and respect must be the first choice when being leaders. Listening and evaluating different points of view focused on a topic can elevate a common man to be redefined as a cooperative and learning leader. Many have lost the gift of maturity that enables older folks to show attention without expressing insubordinance through appearance or action. Has it become an impossible task to try to appreciate the stress of a leader trying to make the best decision for all, without critically and immediately looking at the shortfalls of the plan? Blindly following is foolish and insincere loyalty is mutiny. So where does that leave us? I think the politicians are putting us in “their” middle, forcing policies they believe in into the center of COVID19. Isn’t it time their motivations change from reelection to serving even those who do not go to the polls. 

The collective media has become one of my most despised sources of information even though there is virtually no other alternative. They intentionally dramatize singular cases of COVID19 and glorify their coverage in a self-promoting way that is undignified. For instance, the smallest fraction of hospitalized patients who had no comorbidities along with their COVID19 are focused upon. I must believe this is to incite individual fear in the general population hinting, “This could be you”, if you do not abide by the new stay at home rules. Multiple correspondents have used COVID19 to tell their personal story of struggle from home. The most maddening is one from CNN who without a doubt needed to be the main character in the COVID19 story after he contracted the disease. His connection with the Governor of New York, gave him an inside scoop to COVID19, but clearly the concentrated story is of himself. We know he had a fever. We know he claims suffering. We know he had a social isolation argument with his neighbor. Oh, might I add; we know he was not “Sick enough”, at least physically, to be hospitalized. And now, we know he needed to continue “His” story, so he is now following his wife’s COVID19 struggle. This is only one reporter making me ashamed to have watched even one of his pity party newscasts. Sadly, I think some of those reporters, like him, might hope of being hospitalized and taken as close to death as possible for their career developmental story. 

From me, who thought I was the “Angry man” when I started this piece, I am glad I got the words out of my head and onto paper. I can’t believe that I am the only American that has had their “Optimism protection system” weakened by the peripheral annoyances of COVID19. Maybe that should be listed as a new symptom? I will drive on collecting factual and comparative data to make good decisions that are informed by common sense, objectivity and reason. I’ve decided to double-down on not being a thoughtless drone receiving the news or guidance knowing that my outlook and lens play a part in the interpretation and outcome. I am optimistic and so should you be. It looks like a nice day out so I think I am going to go for a run. 

“To Lead is a Privilege, to Think is a Responsibility” – Jim Laterza 

We’ve always had bird feeders and have enjoyed watching many different birds visit our yard. About five years ago, we briefly saw a male Bluebird visit our bird bath. After some research, we determined it was just a “fly by” and that he wasn’t overly impressed with our food and lodging offerings. My wife decided that we needed to add Bluebird houses to our backyard.

Much to our delight, the following spring a Papa Bluebird visited once again. He must have approved of our renovations because a few days later, he brought the decision-maker with him – Mama Bluebird. That first year was very exciting for us as we watched them daily from March through September.

The following spring we upped our game by adding a mealworm feeder to our backyard, not knowing if they would return or not. You would have thought we won the lottery the day we saw a Papa Bluebird sitting on one of the houses. Mama soon followed and our “Bluebird” spring and summer unfolded just as the year before. Mama and Papa’s behavior the second year mirrored the first, so now we understood what “normal” was for raising a family of Bluebirds – and it’s pretty awesome!

As we have gotten to know our Bluebirds over the years, we have come to truly appreciate how magnificent they are. As mentioned above, a Papa Bluebird visits each spring by himself. This is his scouting run to scope out suitable places to raise a family. Mama usually shows up a few days later, and they basically start “claiming their turf” by sitting on one of our houses. They are not fending off other Bluebirds, but other birds like Starlings and House Sparrows who also look for holes/houses to build nests in – and also have been known to attack Bluebirds.

Claiming their turf can go on for weeks before they even start building a nest. Similar to the boxing analogy of “pound for pound best boxer”, Papa Bluebird is one of the baddest birds on this planet! We’ve seen times when a Starling has trapped Mama in one of the houses, and out of nowhere Papa comes dive bombing the Starling and chases him away. Papa is extremely protective – just ask a few curious squirrels who have gotten a little too close to the house. Papa is always on watch! He’s like a dad at the playground who never takes his eyes off his children as they play with their friends. Papa likes to sit in a few different spots, usually high points where he can keep an eye on the entire backyard.

It’s heartwarming to observe Mama and Papa Bluebird truly being a couple. Much like a husband and wife, they have their different roles but they work as a team and share many responsibilities. During nest building, we watch them both gather pieces of grass and individually disappear through the hole in the birdhouse. We have also seen Papa carry some nest building materials to the birdhouse opening to hand-off to Mama inside.

Bluebirds are very social. They do not mind interactions with people, and at times we think they actually enjoy us being around. Our Bluebird houses allow for the front section to swing open so we can look inside. We don’t look too often, and we always knock on the side of the house first, but we can watch the progress of the nest building with an occasional peek. Watching nest building is fun, but nothing compares to looking inside a house and seeing a little blue egg in the nest! Mama usually lays one egg a day, in the morning, for five or six days. She actually spends time away from the house during the time and we monitor the egg laying in the early evening each day. “Dive bomber” Papa is always watching us from a nearby perch, but somehow knows that he can trust us. Once all the eggs are laid, Mama takes to keeping them warm by sitting on the nest for about two weeks.

We made a big mistake with our birdhouses the first year. We mounted our houses on wooden stakes that looked nice, but were not very sturdy. After Mama laid five eggs that first year, a raccoon (most likely) knocked the entire house down one night and there were no eggs left the next morning. We felt terrible, and quickly put the houses back up on “industrial strength” poles with safeguards to prevent anything from climbing to the house. We were afraid Mama and Papa would go away, but they stayed. The next day they both sat next to each other on the birdbath for a very long time. Their daily routine was sadly no longer required and they were likely a bit puzzled, but it also seemed like they were mourning. Staying close together, not flying all about until they decided to start all over again – which they did, but in a different house in our yard.

Once the baby Bluebirds are hatched, Papa now elevates his protector role and guards the house pretty much all the time – and aggressively chases away any bird or animal that gets close to the house. He also becomes chief cook and bottle washer. As mentioned earlier, we have a mealworm feeder close to the birdhouse. We add mealworms to the feeder in the early morning most days. We don’t bother Mama during this time, but we do get close to fill the feeder. Papa watches us closely. As soon as we start walking away, he will fly to the feeder for a mouthful of mealworms. He collects the mealworms, but he doesn’t eat a single one as he flies to the birdhouse opening for a beak to beak hand-off with Mama so she can feed the babies and herself. This routine continues for the next 10-15 days. As days go on, we’ll see Mama and Papa go into the house and come out with little white sacs in their mouths. They are removing the waste from the babies so the nest stays clean and safe (gives new appreciation for the disposable diapers we used for our three kids :).

Next comes the best part of helping our Bluebird couple raise their family – the babies start to fledge the nest. After 15 days or so, we start seeing the babies start poking their heads out the birdhouse. It’s really fun to watch over a couple days as they get more courageous, you think one is about to go for it – then he or she thinks “not so sure” and pulls back inside. Growing confidence, along with an increasingly crowded house, finally leads to the first fledgling leaving the nest and immediately perching on a nearby tree branch. One by one, they all take the leap of faith over coming days and our backyard is filled with Bluebirds.

After several intense weeks, Mama and Papa finally can relax a bit – although their parenting responsibilities continue. We add more mealworms per day to the feeder to satisfy the growing needs of all the new babies. Some of the babies quickly find their way to the feeder and become fairly independent right away. Others, are more tentative and we watch as Mama or Papa bring them mealworms wherever they may be perched in a tree. Over coming weeks, many of the fledglings stick around and often play together in our birdbath. As their first brood of baby Bluebirds continue to spread their wings, Mama and Papa have already started nest number two and start the entire process all over again

So, during this unprecedented time of uncertainty and fear, we are blessed to have a pocket of normalcy that our family escapes to everyday – right in our backyard. I hope reading our Bluebird adventures provides you with a brief escape as well, and I hope you find comfort in seeking your own pockets of normalcy within your lives.

I love to hike.  I guess when you boil it down, a hike is really just a walk with a little more purpose.  There’s something pure about stepping foot onto a trail with an intended destination. Oftentimes, that destination rises above a valley floor reaching towards the heavens in such a way that you can actually see it from where you stand.  Other times, your only indication of your destination is a point listed on a wooden sign with a number indicating how many miles you have to go to reach it. What I also love about a hike is that it is an experience relatively unchanged and undestroyed by technology.  Sure, we may now carry a GPS instead of a compass, and a cell phone instead of an old Kodak Instamatic camera, and our clothes may have fancier properties that the marketing types use to convince us of their worth, but it’s still a hike and the experience is still the same.  I often hike the same trails my grandfather hiked 50 years ago, and I picture him on those trails, and realize that the emotions I am feeling at that exact moment are likely very similar to those he felt decades earlier. If I were forced to give up all my hobbies, I think hiking and music would be the last two I’d hang on to…and if it really came to a final choice, I’d likely choose hiking, cuz I could always sing while out on the trail.

There are a lot of great hikes in the Catskill Mountains.   Many offer challenging climbs, or great distances, or nice views, or cool things to check out along the way.  The Overlook Mountain and Echo Lake hike is one that checks off every box and should definitely be on your “hikes I need to do in the Catskills” list.

Before I go much further, you will see that there are a lot of hike articles out there on the interwebs with detailed mile markers, special instructions, GPS tracks, tips and tricks to guarantee your hiking success, and much much more.   This will clearly not be one of them. Think of this more like story time with Mr. Rogers, minus the cardigan, stuffed animals, and trolley.

The trailhead for Overlook Mountain is on Meads Mountain Road, about 3 miles outside of the village of Woodstock, NY (the actual town…not to be confused with the site of the epic musical festival that took place in 1969).   The great thing about this particular hike, is that depending on your energy level, you can either make the full trek over Overlook Mountain to Echo Lake and make it a 9+ mile hike, or just climb Overlook Mountain, making it about a 5 mile hike. 

The Overlook Mountain summit is at 3,140’ and is home to one of the Catskill Mountain Fire towers.   The climb to the summit is steady, gaining about 700’ per mile, but since it follows a service road the whole way, it is not a very technical hike.  One of the real treats of this hike comes at about the 2 mile mark, the site of the Overlook Mountain House. The mountain house went through several iterations of being built, burning down, and being rebuilt from the early 1800’s through the early 1900’s.  The current ruins were never actually completed (per advanced research on wikipedia) and became the property of New York State in the 1940’s, suffering one final fire in the 1960’s. However, due to its concrete construction, there’s a lot of structure still standing providing some great photo ops.  If you’re interested in more details of questionable accuracy, do a google search on the Overlook Mountain House…there’s a lot to read out there.

Getting back to the hiking, rumor has it, that the next 3 miles or so are home to literally hundreds of Timber Rattlesnakes.  We were hiking on a crisp fall day, and did not have the privilege of seeing any along or on the trail, but the posted warning signs would indicate that the rumors hold some truth.  So, if snakes cause you any stress in life, especially poisonous snakes, this may not be the hike for you. The climb after leaving the mountain house site remains steady to the point where you can continue on to the summit and the fire tower, or head towards Echo Lake.  The day we hiked it, we chose to go to Echo Lake first and leave the fire tower for the way back.

As you head to Echo Lake, the trail descends at a pretty good clip and you lose most of the elevation you gained.  At this point, the trail is a typical Catskill Mountain single track. After a couple miles, you arrive at Echo Lake.   There is a lean-to and a few primitive campsites, and a trail around the lake. As you walk around the trail, there are several downed trees, the handiwork of beavers…and a dam at the outlet end of the lake, also the handiwork of beavers.  Oh, and in case you were wondering, if you let out a yell or even a yodel, you will hear an echo that usually resembles the thing you originally yelled or yodeled. I can’t tell you that Echo Lake received its name based on the reverberating effect at the lake, but if it did, I can honestly say it would not be a lie.

At this point, you have to back track the trail you just came down, and head back up to the junction of the Overlook Mountain trail.  The final ascent to the Overlook Mountain summit is steady, but a little more gradual at this point. As you reach the top, you’ll see the fire tower.   We were hiking later in the season, so the observation deck was not open, but you could still climb just shy of that point….and despite the rickety steps, and the strong wind, the views from the tower were well worth the climb.   One thing about this particular hike, perhaps due to the proximity to Woodstock, or the non technical nature of the climb, is there are quite a few people. So, don’t be surprised if the summit is a bit crowded.

The hike back to the trailhead parking is once again a non technical stroll down the access road, but with 7 miles on your legs by this point, an easier descent to end your hike may be a good thing.

If you do the whole hike, you will have ended up logging 9.4 miles and climbing just a tick under 2,400’.   Though a relatively good workout for an afternoon hike, the great sights along the way really make this one of the more enjoyable hikes in the Catskill mountains.  No, this one won’t count towards the Catskill Mountain 3500’ peak list, but sometimes, it’s just fun to take a hike for the sake of taking a hike.  

A quick trip into the village of Woodstock to check out some of the local shops and grab a coffee is a great way to end a day on the trails and complete the Catskill Mountain experience.

If you’re in the Catskills and looking for an approachable hike that provides all the best a hike can provide, I would highly recommend the Overlook Mountain and Echo Lake hike.   Great climbs, spectacular views, and really neat points of interest make it a tough one to beat.

Yeah, I really like hiking… and if you try this one, you may just find that you might like hiking too!

Today we all need a break from the endless news cycle so I thought it may be a great idea to write this temporary distraction piece to spur a laugh or two. So, here it goes. 

If I want to head back in time a bit it only takes a second or two for me. You only need to mention the “CB” Radio. That is the Citizen’s Band (CB) Radio for those who may not have been a user or even around in the 1970’s and 1980’s. The CB preceded most all other mobile communication and it was a method our “Big Rig Drivers”, local Pick up owners, volunteer firemen and just about anyone (who was cool) would use to talk to others from their vehicle. They would mount it under their dash and it would open up their world of public conversation at a distance. It was not secure communication by any means and everything you said to a friend through your microphone could be listened to by anyone on that channel. 

Those connected had large “Whip” antennas on their cars or trucks and replicated the same with bigger antennas on their homes. The mobile whip antenna was a thing of beauty symbolizing the muscle under the hood (or dash in this case). You were a connected member of society who likely could respond faster than anyone else to any chaos known to man or beast. This could be a car accident, a fire or simply an overlooked get together that you had only stumbled upon by hearing it on the CB. A “Home base station” was recognizable by the huge triangular shaped frame antenna that seemed like it could reach out to another planet. I’m not sure, but this could be a variant theory of where the phrase “Bigger is better” came from. It seemed like the big and bad CB operators had antenna’s on poles that extended hundreds of feet into the sky and dwarfed their homes. Sadly, I do not think the antenna range was ever tested so it’s likely that bigger might have only represented a more obnoxious disruption to the horizon. 

There was a wave of television shows that spurred the popularity of CBs including Movin’ On, BJ and the Bear or the big screen movies entitled, Smokey and the Bandit, Breaker – Breaker and Convoy to name a few. A new language was born where Smokies were the police, Billy Goat meant Old Timer and 10-4 was a resounding understanding and agreement of the facts you just stated. These influences were deep for a young kid looking for an adventurous life where the good guys always won and everyone was just “Cool.” To participate, you must understand that every CB user needed a handle. That handle was his or her name to be known by when speaking into the handheld microphone for the airwaves. I recall the day I was listening to hear some “Big Rig” talk and I picked up a skipping signal from the stratosphere echoing a southern drawl voice all the way from Louisiana. It was not what the trucker said, it was the fact that I could hear it. I lived in upstate New York so you might be able to imagine the glee of a 10-year-old equal to discovering a precious gem in the backyard or contacting aliens. The man on the other end of the CB was “Snake Eyes.” I thought that was the best handle I had ever heard and thought it clearly represented a serpent able to strike with a potent venom at any moment. Little did I know at my age it likely represented rolling two die with a single mark on each. At that moment I created my name and took on my handle, “Puny Eyes.” 

Puny Eyes sounded almost as cool as Snake Eyes. After all, it included “Eyes” and that in itself would catch random listeners attention. I am not sure where I got the “Puny” part of the handle, but the definitions I retrieved in later years betrayed “Cool.” Puny is small or sickly. Wow, small, sickly eyes! That description does not represent someone who you would want to talk to on the CB radio or how I wanted to be described. I didn’t have a deep voice at that age and community trust was better, but that name should have likely been adjusted. Besides, my eyes were normal sized and I was not unusually small or sickly. Parents who let their kids use the CB might have restricted its use these days with the thought of “Puny Eyes” being at the other side of the conversation. Today, most kids would be restricted from going to “that internet site” if they had a desire to chat. 

During my CB-years I had a childhood friend whose handle was Red Fox. He had chosen his name modifying his dad’s handle, Gray Fox. I appreciated that, but his handle was not unique or interesting enough and did not come close to my Snake Eyes inspiration. My handle rolled off the tongue. Not considering my thoughtful reflections of today I stuck with Puny Eyes! Red Fox and I chatted about “stuff” probably twice per week for a year or two. It was a great outlet and likely entertained the open airwaves with our innocent topics. It is interesting to compare then and now. What if the phone of today was open communication? I’m pretty sure that the privacy police would be on us pretty quick, but what an interesting conscience keeper. Although the CB radio created only a false sense of anonymity, users kept a sense of honesty and cleanliness in their conversation. Obviously, I listened with my untarnished youthful ears and may have saw the world rosier than it was, but that is the memory that stuck in my head. The reach of my CB radio seemed continental and maybe limitless, but no fear was ever produced by its use. It was just pure joy. 

Breaker, breaker, this is Puny Eyes signing off with some lessons of fearlessness, decency, courtesy and respect taught to me through my CB radio in the good ol’ days! Thanks for listening in and hope this “Break” took you away from the stress of today for a bit! 

“Reflect and Laugh to Refresh your Spirit” 

and then …

“Do Your Job” the best way you can 

Jim Laterza

In the turbulent sixties, spies were in demand. There was that war going on over in ‘Nam, anti-war protests across the U.S., and the civil rights movement in the south. My new, young spy friend had been deployed to Eastern Europe, keeping an eye on Soviet activity. I was a bit in awe.

Much later, I was working for a global software development company that sent consultants around the world. The project that I was working on was domestic. But one of my close associates and friends there had come out of military intelligence. He was gathering and analyzing data electronically, from strategic hot spots around the world. My cousin Les was doing the same thing on the ground in South Korea.

A few years later, working for the same company, I encountered two more CIA agents. They were an odd pair. He was short, overweight, balding, and bespectacled. She was a tough one, a real piece of work. She had a manly manner, and rode her Harley to work. They had been working together for years. An unmarried married couple, deployed by the CIA to do interrogations of vietcong, in Vietnam. The company I worked for was headquartered near the Pentagon, and provided cover for CIA operatives. I can tell you this, if you ever encounter a short, overweight, balding, and bespectacled man, tell him what he wants to know. If you don’t, he will cut off your tongue!

It seems they’re everywhere. And they just can’t be trusted!  I thought I could trust Paul. We had been friends in our youth. We went to church youth activities. But, wouldn’t you know it, he married my girlfriend! I guess you can do that if you work for the NSA.