Norway's Finest

We met in 2001, my rookie year for the Poudre Wilderness Volunteers in Fort Collins, Colorado.  His name was Ras Erdal.  He was assigned to mentor me on one of my first hikes patrolling the trails of the Canyon Lakes Ranger District for the National Forest Service.

When I saw his name next to mine on the schedule, I figured I would be hiking with a fellow from India.  When I met him, I was surprised to see an energetic 69 year old Norwegian man.  We seemed to hit it off right away, due to his easy going manner and our mutual love for the outdoors.

We hiked a few times the following season together and then I decided to drop out of the organization after the 2002 season.  The years past and I decided to reapply to PWV in 2010.  I was told I missed the deadline.  Little did I know at the time that I did not need to reapply.

In the spring of 2011, I attended a meeting for PWV and recognized an old friend, Ras Erdal.  He looked at me kind of funny and then greeted me warmly, remembering our brief friendship a decade earlier.  It was at that moment I pinpointed what I liked about PWV, Ras Erdal.

I hiked exclusively with Ras in 2011 and looked forward to our time together on the trails.  In 2012, we attended PWV's Spring Training event and shared a tent for the weekend.  We had become great friends.

Ras has encouraged me to write and I have encouraged him to hike higher and farther that an 80 year old man is supposed to.  Ras isn't your typical 80 year old man though.  He skied Arapahoe Basin last season and he leads this 52 year old up the mountain.

So, at the end of this hiking season, I wanted to thank Mr. Erdal for being a little hard of hearing and putting up with me and my sometimes outspoken opinions.  I have enjoyed our adventures and look forward to many more in the years to come.

Keep hiking to the clouds Ras.

Inspiration

Sometimes in life we need to step back and reflect on an accomplishment to fully absorb the magnitude of it and what its significance means to us.  Last year, a friend of mine ran and completed a 100 mile trail race in the mountains of Colorado.  That is the equivalent to just under four consecutive marathons.  If the amount of miles doesn’t blow your mind, the fact that this guy was not a runner should.  He had not run more than a 10K event in his life before he decided to train for and attempt the Leadville 100 Trail Race.

My friend’s exposure to his brother’s attempt of this feat in 2010 prompted his own attempt at competing in the race.  His brother “inspired” him with his effort. 

The following excerpts and observations are from my friend’s blog before the race last year:

“He plopped down on the side of the trail and announced, through gasped breaths, that he was "done." He said he simply could not continue up the mountain. It was too much. He just couldn’t get his legs to work. Everything hurt intensely…

…he must have felt like he had reached the utter bottom of his well.

 …rather than quit there as he had planned, he continued on into the dark night.  And he kept going for about 24 more miles and nine more hours.

Unfortunately, he eventually missed the cutoff time and was dropped from the race. But to me, despite this disappointment, the real message was loud and clear:

 His well was A LOT deeper than he realized.

 In my head, all I could see was the image of him moaning on the side of the trail announcing that he was “done,” but somehow finding it within himself to continue on for almost an entire marathon’s worth of mountain running through the middle of the night.

 That level of mental toughness seemed inconceivable to me; an entirely new concept.

I saw many runners who had the same experience my brother had – the necessarily painful but rewarding experience of finding out that their respective wells were much deeper than they knew.

 At some point during that race, almost every runner doubted whether they could go on, whether they would finish. But they pressed on anyway.

The word I thought of that night, the word that still continues to resonate in my head today is “inspiring.”

 No, I’m not really a runner, but I am curious to find out how deep my own well is.

That night I was inspired to find out how far I can go after I think I can’t go any farther.”

– JP Martin, June 2011

JP Martin trained for an entire year, ran in, and completed his race in less than 28 hours in August of 2011.  His brother completed the race last year as well in less than the allotted time of 30 hours.  This is inspiring to me.

In a world of negativity and sometimes great despair, we all need to be inspired every once in awhile.  We need stories like Lance Armstrong beating cancer and winning seven consecutive Tour de France bike races.  We need stories like Brooke and Gavin walking from Mexico to Canada on the Pacific Crest Trail.  We need stories like JP Martin’s to inspire us to embark on our own epic journeys to see what is possible and maybe just how limitless those possibilities really are.

10 Weeks On the Trail

Brooke Osborne and Gavin Morris began their journey on the Pacific Crest Trail on April 27, 2012.  In 10 weeks on the trail, they have covered over 1,100 miles, averaging nearly 16 miles a day.  They are currently in Lake Tahoe, California.

Their media coverage is increasing with the help of Colorado State University, where Brooke recently received her MBA.  You can follow along and find out more about them on their website "Wild Ones".  Until next time, hike your own hike and enjoy the day.

The Wampus and Zen Show

I just got off the phone with Brooke Osborne, aka "Wampus Cat". She was calling from Mammoth Lakes, California where she and Gavin Morris, aka "Zen" have just completed their 900th mile on the Pacific Crest Trail. They are already 1/3 of the way to Canada.

Wampus was in good spirits as she enthusiastically described her and Zen's recent highlights on the trail. There was the Bishop Bear that staked out a campground and forced our intrepid adventures to cross a high mountain pass, in the dark, by headlamp, after a long day, with lots of food, in search of a bear box. It took them nearly 3 hours to go 4.3 miles and I'll bet that Bear's ears are still burning over the expletives that were probably evoked every step of the way.

There was also a recent stream crossing where some of their camera equipment went unexpectedly white water rafting and had to be quickly recovered. Luckily, no equipment or files were lost or damaged. It sounded to me like when Sacagawea saved some valuable specimens collected by the Lewis & Clark Expedition when they were swept overboard while riding out some rapids.

These experiences are Wampus Cat and Zen's. They have happened to them. As a writer of non-fiction, it has been hard for me to communicate what they were doing. I am not the one doing it, but I have figured out a way to better cover this epic journey.

Through a collaborative effort with Wampus and Zen, together we will be able to shed some light on their thru hiking experience. I had originally thought of comparing and contrasting their journey to my everyday life. This was like trying to play solitaire with a half a deck of cards. How did I know what they were experiencing and dealing with to be able to compare it to what I did know? I couldn't, but through a recent two day one night backpack trip of my own, enlightenment on the subject was achieved.

Their accomplishments are just that, their accomplishments. When I read about a guy like Andrew Skurka, it is incredible what that guy has done, but it may as well be a trip to the moon as far as me being able to relate to it, for it is his journey, not mine.

So, if I write a little and Wampus and Zen chime in as well, maybe the end result will be what I envisioned from the start, the recording of an historical journey that you do not see attempted everyday.

ebook

April 23, 2012

The AT

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” – Confucius

The Appalachian Trail is the Everest of hiking trails. It is a 2,181 mile journey and to hike the entire trail, one must take approximately 5,757,840 footsteps. To try and give a little perspective of this feat, I have done a little figuring using a local landmark, Horsetooth Mountain, as my control for this explanation.

Horsetooth Mountain in Fort Collins sits at 5,400 feet in elevation and rises up to 7,256 feet at its summit. The trail to the top is approximately 2.75 miles long and 5.5 miles roundtrip. When you hike it, you climb 1,856 feet up and descend 1,856 feet down giving you a plus minus of 3,712 feet in elevation. When you hike Horsetooth, you take approximately 14,520 footsteps.

To simulate hiking the Appalachian Trail, you would have to hike Horsetooth Mountain 396.5 times. If you hiked it twice a day, it would take you 198.25 days. That many days equals 28.3 weeks or 6.6 months.
Imagine starting on April 1st and hiking Horsetooth twice a day every day for the months of: April, May, June, July, August, September, and half of October.

Some qualifying differences to mention would include not carrying a backpack of say 30 lbs. You also would be hiking the exact same trail 396.5 times. I think the biggest difference would be the sheer magnitude of the task at hand in hiking the Appalachian Trail. Imagine starting
off hiking 181 miles in say 2.5 weeks and then facing the realization that you still have 2,000 more miles to go.

If that realization doesn’t discourage you, there are other factors that may. There is the weather on the east coast consisting of anything from heat and humidity, to rain and fog, to cold and snow in the higher elevations. There are bugs including mosquitoes, flies, and ticks.
There is Poison Ivy. There are snakes. There are mice and rats in the shelters and there are leeches in the streams.

You will sleep in a tent or in an open shelter every night. You go the bathroom in outhouses, if you are lucky. Your food and drink is what you want to carry, which I guess rules out that 6-pack of beer every night sitting around the campfire.

The scenery is trees and rocks and dirt and more trees and more rocks and more dirt. Since the forest cannot be seen through these trees, you are kind of hiking in a wooded tunnel. Did I mention that you will smell bad and constantly be dirty?

It is said to cost $1.50 - $2.50 a mile to thru hike the trail. Where do unemployed people get $3,271.50 - $5,452.50 for their trip? If they do
work, how do they get 5-6 months off and still have a job to come back to?

It is also said that life is different on the trail. Really? With an itinerary consisting of: wake up, cook breakfast, break camp, walk 15 miles, stop, make camp, eat dinner, sleep, repeat 150 times, this sounds pretty
routine to me.

I am told what makes this hike so special is the things you miss. Things like taking a shower, having ice cream on a hot day, eating a cheese burger and fries, eating pizza, not smelling bad, not being dirty, not being eaten alive by bugs, and missing all that news coverage of the daily lives of the Kardashians.

I do wish people well who both attempt and complete this journey. I am just not sold on the idea, yet.

On Frozen Pond

If the months of December, January, and February make up the season of winter, then we are at the halfway point already. Snowshoes and skis will be put to good use as the days begin to lengthen again, but one winter activity that has gotten less playing time for me since I moved to Colorado is ice skating. When the landscape changed from flat to sloped, I guess it was inevitable that the blades wouldn’t get much use, but back in the day, ice was the vehicle for fun and adventure.

Recently on a trip back to Michigan, I was reminded that I grew up playing hockey. We were sitting in the stands at Joe Louis Arena in Detroit watching The University of Michigan play Boston College in The Great Lakes Invitational annual college hockey tournament and there was an eleven year-old kid watching the game a row in front of us. It was like looking in the mirror 40 years ago.

Playing Pee Wee hockey was an indoor activity played in an indoor ice arena, but we also played ice hockey in the woods across the street whenever Mother Nature cooperated. The ponds would freeze and we would spend hours and hours freezing as well as we scrapped out games against each other. Our hands and feet would get so cold that some of us even got a touch of frost bite every once and awhile.

To prepare for the winter, the entire neighborhood would venture out into the woods in late fall with garden rakes and try and clear the grassy marshes in hopes of creating a super ice rink. The native grasses if left to nature froze in the ice creating an un-skate-able surface. We would also maintain the woods ice by shoveling off new snow and using brooms to clean off the ice shavings from the games.

One year, a neighborhood kid’s dad made an ice rink in their backyard. He formed the edges up with snow and used a garden hose to spray water in the area to create the ice. It worked so well that I tried to create my own version on our patio. My mother actually let me connect a garden hose to the hot water heater and run a hose thru the kitchen and spray water out the window on to the patio. Most of the water ended up evaporating or seeping thru the clay patio bricks, but I did create enough ice one time to briefly skate on.

Our creek, the North Branch of the Chicago River, would freeze some years and you could literally skate out of town on this ice super highway. You had to avoid overhanging tree limbs and low bridges under streets, but when it was cold enough long enough, you could skate for miles and miles.

Here in Colorado, we have ice skated in the past at Beaver Meadows in the Red Feather
Lakes area. They have a nice little pond to skate on there. They rent ice skates
and have a warming hut near the pond when the cold winter wind gets to be too much for you. You can also cross country ski on man-made trails and tube down hills. Finally, there is a rustic restaurant to get a bite to eat or get a cup of hot chocolate at.

My step daughter and her boyfriend recently went ice skating inside at the Northern Colorado Ice Area near our home in Windsor. They had fun and both were quite proud of the fact that they didn’t fall. Maybe it’s time for me to get back in the game again…

Who is #1?

Who is college football's best team?

If you answered LSU or Alabama you would be right for this season, but what about all time? The following teams have the most wins in Division 1 football all time:

1. Michigan - 888 wins
2. Texas - 853 wins
3. Notre Dame - 845 wins
4. Nebraska - 836 wins
5. Ohio State - 825 wins
6. Alabama - 824 wins
7. Penn State - 821 wins
8. Oklahoma - 806 wins
9. Tennessee - 789 wins
10. USC - 784 wins

National Championships and winning percentages and conferences aside, when it comes down to it, the question will always be, did you win or lose the game?

Mills Lake Snowshoe Adventure

It has been 3 months since I was here at the Glacier Gorge Trailhead in Rocky Mountain National Park. The warm early autumn weather at that time has been replaced by some warm early winter weather. Skies are sunny with temperatures in the mid 30’s and miraculously there is little to no wind. My hiking boots have been replaced by a pair of snowshoes for today’s adventure to Mills Lake.

The trailhead sitting at 9,240 feet in elevation is no longer cloaked in fluttering leaves of gold. Instead the entire ecosystem is blanketed by a thick layer of snow. The sounds of nature seem to be as quiet as a sleeping bear hibernating for the winter. Any noise from the park road or from other snowshoe enthusiasts is quickly absorbed by the white insulation on the ground.

As I walk along the packed down snow on the trail, all I hear is the crunching sound emanating from beneath my stride. An occasional rattle from my backpack reminds me why I am making this journey today as a sizable tripod for my camera is in tow and strapped to the outside of my pack. The goal is to capture some snow capped peaks from a distance in my lens and I am confident that the backdrop of Mills Lake will fit this description. All I have to do is get there before the light fades into the winter sky.

The forest thickens as I continue my trek. Snow looks as if it has been sprayed on the trees. Although the elevation gain is only 700 feet by the time I reach Mills Lake, it feels as if I am on an escalator up the mountain. My snowshoes grip the packed snow on the trail and my poles help me to slowly advance up as well.

Mills Lake sits at 9,940 feet in elevation. The last time I was here, an elk swam across it. This time, after a lone figure on snow shoes crosses the lake, I am completely alone. There is a deafening silence as I remember my encounter with the elk in the fall. I also begin to wonder if it is safe to be standing on the snow covered ice taking pictures. I move around as to not stand in any one place for very long. The ice holds.

A gust of wind hits me in the face and reminds me that I am high up in the mountains. With the light fading, it is time to head on down the trail. My perception of the trail is now one of a lot of up to get this far. My snowshoes grip the trail as I rapidly make my way down. I come around a bend and remember that elk that charged me for the fun of it last September. He is nowhere to be seen today. It is just me and my thoughts on this day.

The last part of the trail back to the trailhead of course is uphill and I am ready to be done. I hear other people that are making their way back as well. I decide that no one will pass me as I accelerate toward the parking lot. This last burst of energy taxes my feet a little as I feel the effects of the nearly 6 miles I have walked today.

When I return again this winter, I might try this trail on cross country skis. It may be a little dicey in some spots, but well worth the risk. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Christmas for Cowboys

“Tall in the saddle, we spend Christmas Day,
driving the cattle over snow covered-plains.
All of the good gifts given today,
ours is the sky and the wide open range…
…a campfire for warmth as we stop for the night,
the stars overhead are Christmas tree lights.
The wind sings a hymn as we bow down to pray,
It's Christmas for cowboys, wide-open plains…”

-John Denver,
Christmas for Cowboys

Perhaps you are up early and reading this or perhaps you are relaxing in your easy chair as the afternoon meanders by. Either way, I hope you are warm and comfortable. Warm and comfortable were not part of the job description for the American cowboy and they were not part of the journey for Mary and Joseph on their way to Bethlehem that first Christmas.

Let’s set the scene. You are nine months pregnant and traveling by donkey. At the end of your journey, the only thing for certain is that you have no place to stay. It is getting dark and cold, so you take refuge in a manger. You surround yourself with animals to help keep warm. Oh, then there is the whole having a baby thing. All I can say is that Mary was one tough cookie.

Fast forward 2011 years and here we are. The hustle and bustle of Christmas should pretty much be over by now. If you are like me, you might have even taken inventory of your gifts. As a kid, I remember neatly piling up all the wonderful presents I got and then feeling a little tinge of sadness that Christmas was kind of over for that year. The afternoon light was usually fading and the Christmas meal had begunto digest. A winter nap was next and then maybe one more viewing of “It’s a Wonderful Life”.

Somewhere along the line, going to see a movie at a theatre became a tradition on Christmas night. I guess the Christmas day movie is like watching football games on Thanksgiving. We all can take only so
much of our family and relatives before we need to escape with a good diversion.

That reminds me of that Christmas special of the little boy who wants a BB gun for Christmas. His family ends up at a Chinese restaurant for Christmas dinner because the neighbor’s dogs storm their house and devour their Christmas turkey. Thus another Christmas tradition was started for some, going out for Chinese on Christmas night.

And yet when it is all said and done, perhaps Linus of the Peanuts cartoon was right when he concisely breaks down what Christmas is all about to a frustrated Charlie Brown:

"And there were in the same country shepherds, abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them! And they were sore afraid ...

And the angel said unto them, "Fear not! For, behold, I bring you tidings o great joy, which shall be to all my people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ, the Lord."

"And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."

And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the Heavenly Host praising God, and saying, "Glory to God in the Highest, and on Earth peace, and good will toward men."

"That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."

-Linus Van Pelt

The Burning of the Dummy

A new year has arrived, right on schedule. It is nice to know that some things don’t change. A New Year’s Day activity that I knew in my youth was the burning of the dummy. I believe this tradition began in Ecuador. My exposure to it came by way of some kids down the block named the Kennedy’s. The Kennedy’s would have a New Year’s Day party every year. Mrs. Kennedy would prepare an array of delicious finger foods and tins of Christmas cookies to feast on.

Around the end of each year, Dev and Chris Kennedy would set out to create a dummy. This dummy would consist of old clothes and be stuffed, like the Scare Crow on the Wizard of Oz, with crumpled up old newspaper. They would also implant Black Cat firecrackers and various monetary coins within their creation.

The dummy was a symbol of the past year. The coins represented good fortune for the coming year. Setting the dummy on fire represented the letting go of the past and all the bad things that had occurred during the year. When the dummy had burned and was just a pile of ashes, all the kids would search the ashes with metal yard rakes to try and find the lucky coins. Finding one of those blackened beauties was a real treat and nice keepsake, after it cooled off.

In those days, it was college football’s biggest day and everyone would watch some of the major bowl games. Since the Rose Bowl was a perennial favorite, the dummy burning would usually occur in the
late afternoon before the game. The dummy was usually soaked in a flammable material, say gasoline, before it was set on fire. The Kennedy’s backyard beneath a large Maple tree served as the backdrop for the ceremony.

With the late afternoon sun setting, the party goers were summoned out into the cold for the lighting of the dummy. Sometimes speeches were given and goodbyes were said to the year past. Then, with a flick of a Bic lighter, the dummy would catch fire. As it burned, random firecrackers would go off blowing off parts of the body. The Kennedy boys were always at the ready with their tending rakes to corral any fiery projectiles back into the arena. When the explosions had stopped and the ashes had cooled, the small kids were allowed to try and find the lucky coins. Any undiscovered coins either remained for prosperity or became like bullets when the lawnmower came by in the summer.

The Kennedy’s over time had to remind the neighbor kids that this was in fact supposed to be a family party and that like teenagers still trick or treating, our welcome had run its course. I never knew of anyone that burned a dummy on New Year’s Day before the Kennedy’s and have not met anyone since.

Maybe this year I’ll start up the tradition here in Colorado. Since this past year has been one filled with challenges and tragedies, I for one would like to usher it out with a size 11 boot well placed for emphasis. Anybody got some coins I could use for this year’s good luck?