Overnight on the AT

Well, this is more than a tad delayed but, what can I say, life happens. I had also hoped to be able to get in some awesome edited GoPro video however that is turning out to be harder than I had hoped. For now this account of our short time on the Appalachian Trail back in July will have to do.

So I feel comfortable saying the AT was one of the hardest things I've ever taken on. I did plenty of research before hand. I knew it was going to be hard. But it was reeeeeeally reeeeeally HARD. No joke, the White Mountains chewed us up and spit us out.

We flew out Saturday, and after delays, arrived at 2 AM Sunday morning. We then woke up at 8 AM with wicked jet lag, to head to the trail, which was still 2 hours away. There were thunder storms throughout the morning, and more predicted for most of our trip, but we decided to go ahead and see how far we make it. I couldn't quit before even trying, even if it probably was going to be miserable.

Josh had thrown out his back the week before. It was "betterish" but I didn't want to push it and have him unable to walk or carry his pack somewhere part of the way up the mountain. So we repacked our packs again at the last minute and redistributed things so I was carrying more of the load. I was so happy I had sent along my bigger pack so this was an option.

We said our good byes to our family who would be heading to Acadia while we were hiking and we were on our own to figure it out until my brother and sister in law came to pick us up on the way to meet up with everyone in Maine 5 days later.

Within minutes of stepping into the forest we were sweaty. The humidity was intense. It was rocky and root tangled just like I knew it would be and I was elated! I was fucking doing it! The AT! Me, I'm here! EEEEEEEK!

It was kinda flattish for the first mile and we talked with a family with 2 kids heading to the same campsite we were. They were the first of many people to pass us. It got pretty steep pretty fast after that and each step was hard work.

About 2 hours in we could hear the thunder starting up in the distance. We kept walking and it kept getting closer. Quickly it got too dark for the time of afternoon it was. Then I heard the rain coming. I literally watched the wall of rain move toward us through the forest growing louder and louder and then it consumed us. There was no time to get out a rain coat, it was there. The lightening flashed right above us and was instantly followed by a thunderous crack that may or may not have made me pee my pants a little.

Oh shit! This just got real serious. We dropped our packs and hunkered down away from them and each other near our respective "safe trees". It was full on pouring and I was simultaneously terrified of getting struck by lighting and thoroughly amused by our predicament. Ten minutes or so later it let up a little bit but we were already completely soaked, like we may as well have jumped into a lake with all our gear. The trail was now a a river that we had to continue to trudge up.

We were sure it couldn't be that much farther, and kept saying how close it should be...... for over an hour.....

Then we could hear more thunder, and the trees at that elevation were getting shorter and seemed to offer less protection. I was actually pretty worried. We pushed on for what seemed like an eternity all the while I was sure we should really be trying to take cover, though it probably would have been pointless.

FINALLY we came to the camp where we found a sign that indicated we should check in with the care taker. We stumbled down the short path to the care takers place. He was a nice guy with a pretty serious semi permanent set up. The thunderstorm was picking up and he let us take cover under his large tarp. We chatted and told jokes until it was apparent it wasn't going to pass quickly like the last round and we better go set up our tent and make dinner before it got any darker. The care taker wished us luck and offered us a shot of whiskey for the road. We eagerly accepted and set off to find a spot.

The camp was a series of platforms build up over the steep and rocky ground making it campable. I stumbled down what looked more like a creek than a path to the last platform that the caretaker had recommended. We got right to work setting up our tent. Since the rain fly isn't instantly on the tent, rain was going right in and starting to pool up.  We worked as quick as possible to get the tent up and the fly on, but there was only so much we could do. Everything was wet. We stashed our packs under the safety of the rain fly and resigned to deal with the rest of drying off and setting up camp after we ate.

Back up the creek we trekked to the designated cooking area. It was a mostly flat area partially surrounded by large boulders, that, had it not been raining would have made for perfect bench seating. There were two bear boxes in the center that would become our kitchen counters. And the best part was that the caretaker had hung large tarps over the whole space. It was now completely dark but the cooking area felt like a safe haven.

By the light of our headlamps we cooked our dehydrated mac and cheese and added a small packet of spam for the hell of it. While we waited we warmed our hands by the flame of our small camp stove and shoveled trail mix and cookies into our mouths. I grew impatient and started eating the main course before it was really ready and still slightly crunchy. It was a less than satisfying experience.

After cleaning up and stashing our food in the bear box we braved the creek trail one more time. It was time to face the soggy mess of gear. We were saved by our REI lightweight bath towels and their ability to soak up large quantities of water, be rung out, and do it all over again, and again and again. I swear we spent an hour, maybe more, trying to dry ourselves, dry the tent,  put on dry clothes, and set up beds. Then we also had the insane task of trying to wring out and attempt to dry our hiking clothes, pack, and shoes and other random soggy items as much as possible. 

Somewhere in there I was sure I heard a large animal rustling around near our tent. I immediately thought bear, but I had to keep all of my fears to myself because Josh is WAY scared of bears. (On a previous occasion he has left me in the tent so he could flee to the car because he thought he heard something.) So I'm trying to keep calm and act cool all the while running through escape strategies in the event a wild animal tried to enter our tent. At this same time Josh was stringing up some paracord across his vestibule area to hang clothes from so they had a better shot of drying. He had no idea he was really trapping us and ensuring our certain death.  I was half panicking but I couldn't say anything.

I forced myself to sleep but woke many times to the sound of thunder booming all around. It was so powerful but there was really nothing I could do but try and sleep.

Some how we survived the night and in the morning the sky was clear. I discovered a slug investigating my clothes. Ahhhhh.... nature. 

I wasn't looking forward to hiking in wet clothes so we put up clotheslines and hung up everything and continued to wring it all out while we made breakfast and broke down camp. A fellow camper said his fancy weather app had indicated three storms had merged right over the top of us.

The wet clothes were nothing compared to the wet shoes and the additional weight of wet gear. It was instantly awful. But this was the day I had been looking forward to for months so the wet didn't matter. The climb the rest of the way up was hard. Huge boulders and scrambles that took hands, feet and knees to get up. Every step was purposeful.

When we finally broke tree line and had our first view back at Mt Liberty I got my second wind. It was so satisfying to be living out this dream.  

We took a break on Little Haystack to appreciate the view and eat a snack in the sunshine but the wind on my wet clothes was miserable so it wasn't long before we moved on.

For a while I was downright giddy walking along the ridge. It was everything I had hoped. It was clear skies and mountains fading into the distance in every direction.  The ridge path stretched out in front and behind me and made it look easier than it actually felt to be walking along it. Alpine flowers clung to safe spaces near the base of the rocks and cairns had been erected all along the trail  and it felt almost as if they were standing guard.

Around Mt Lincoln we were getting  tired and sore. My wet shoes started to really wear on my feet. And the extra heavy pack was taking all my energy. Who am I kidding? We were struggling. I really had to push for the last climb up to Mt Lafayette. I just wanted to be there so I could take off my shoes and tend to my growing blisters. 

After I did the best patch job I could, I walked around and took some more pictures and crossed paths with another woman who had the same Buff headband as me. We exchanged a few words and then continued on.

At this point we had to decide if we wanted to continue on for the next 3 days to Crawford Notch (storms were predicted all three days and there wasn't really another place to get off trail between here and there). Or head down from Mt Lafayette to Greenleaf Hut and down to the road where we could try to hitch a ride into town another 10 miles away. With our still wet gear, tired bodies, sore muscles, and inexperience, we decided it was the best choice for us to go down. 

It was just as hard going down. Maybe not the same kind of work to climb up, but the impact on my feet and knees every step down from the large rocks was excruciating. My feet felt raw. We took a short break at Greenleaf hut and I cried. I wasn't sure if I could walk the next 3 miles down to the road but I didn't really have a choice. I was pouting when we left the hut.

Part of the way down it opened up to views looking back at the ridge. It helped to distract from the discomfort of the unforgiving trail.

We did that. I had dreamed about it and I did it. I was proud.

When we finally made it to the parking lot, I collapsed in a grassy patch and immediately took off my shoes and cursed them and their soggy status. 

Right then a group of people emerged from the trail and what do you know, one of them was same Buff chick! We shared stories of the day and she ended up offering us a ride into town that we gladly accepted. Not only did this amazing trail angel take us to town, she took us to the store to get beer and soap, and to a pizza place to get food, all before dropping us off at the dry comfort of a motel. There aren't enough thank yous in the world for this wonderful woman! She was our hero for the day.

This motel ended up being a fantastic choice. It was frequented by thru hikers coming into town to have a rest day, or to resupply. So each day I had the pleasure of talking with a new group of hikers. I had a new kind of appreciation for thru hikers. We had done two days and were a hot mess. They had all hiked almost 2,000 miles from Georgia to New Hampshire over many months so far and still had more to go to get to Maine. It's so impressive I can hardly contain myself. Having these interactions was possibly equally as meaningful to me as hiking the ridge itself.

One woman spoke about how you shouldn't compare your accomplishments to other people's accomplishments. One is not better or worse than another. They are each great accomplishments in themselves. This spoke volumes to me. And is why I won't let myself feel bad about not completing all 5 days and getting to Crawford Notch. We did a hard thing. And it was amazing and I'm so proud of us for every last step on the AT and Franconia Ridge.

We spent the next three days tending to our sore and wounded bodies, appreciating each other and our accomplishment, and exploring the area. Franconia Notch State Park is incredible and I am grateful for this experience. 

*For more pictures look at my Album on Facebook

Biking to Work

MAY-

Last year I helped Josh plan his bike to work route. I was so proud of him for doing it and jealous I didn't have a job away from the house to commute to also. I love driving up Washington Street, through Riverfront Park, and seeing all the joggers and cyclists, and I've longed to be one of them for some time now. This year I work at REI part time and have the opportunity to do just that. While I can hardly say I'm a regular bike commuter, I absolutely do whenever time allows.

I wanted to make some adjustments to the route we planned last year, so I spent the weeks leading up to my first ride scouring google maps for bike safe options and driving around scouting different route possibilities, and not loving any of them. The day before my first ride I finally found something I was comfortable with that didn't take me waaaay out of the way.

Here goes......

The first morning I set out on my commute, solo, and really nervous. I have ridden that distance before but not on the roads and not before work. It felt very different. By the end of my block I was aware of the muscles in my legs. I pulled out from my neighborhood street onto the main road with a bike lane. By the end of mile 1, the end seemed sooooo far away, and I was wondering if this was a bad idea.  The bike lane was then replaced by 2 lanes of traffic in either direction and I knew I was supposed to take a lane. I checked over my shoulder, causing me to swerve a little, before moving into the lane. I made a mental note to buy a rear view mirror for my helmet.

Yep. I'm that person now.

It was early on a Saturday morning so the traffic was minimal and the air was still cool. I flew down the first hill and remembered this was going to be fun. Then I slowly climbed over the 1st of 3 bridges on my route. My legs, that weren't yet conditioned to climbing hills, screamed at me, but I made it, and again sped down the other side. I glanced at my phone that was tracking my progress and I was already 1/3 of the way there.

I focused on pedaling and got into a nice rhythm. I felt great! I could totally do this. I rounded the corner leading to bridge Number 2. This one was a doosie. I pedaled my heart out. Up and up and up, just keep going, you can do this, don't walk I kept repeating to myself. When I made it to the top I stopped to catch my breath. That was the hardest part and it was over! Ok, feeling better.

I made my way along the road until I turned to connect with the Centennial Trail for the final stretch. 2/3 done! This is the best part of the ride by far. I slowed my pace to enjoy the surroundings, nodding and saying hello to others out enjoying the trail.

I went up and over the 3rd and final bridge without much trouble and was beaming with pride and excitement as I came down the other side and through the Gonzaga campus. I was about to be one of the people I admired passing through Riverfront Park. I had wanted to be right here doing exactly this for a year now and here I was. I appreciated the beauty of the river and the view of the city peeking up through the park. I admired the Pavilion and the clock tower that stood tall on the opposite side of the water. I grinned from ear to ear as I passed the big red wagon and the carousel.

Leaving the park I finished up the last couple blocks and pulled into the parking lot, 9 miles and a little under an hour after leaving my driveway. I was greeted by my boss (who has ridden her bike around the world) inside and we shared a really special moment of encouragement and support. I had been looking forward to completing this for a long time and I was a little overwhelmed. Again, my perception of myself shifted as I considered what I had done. I feel incredibly empowered.

I don't get to ride every day or even every week. Adding an hour each way of commute to my already long days is really tough. I ride when I can and I'm ok with that. Sometimes friends from work ride with me, and I'm grateful for their support and company. Sometimes I ride solo, and I'm totally ok with that too. Every time I ride a little faster, and I little more confident.

I am proud of this life I am living.

Cheers to secret squirrel routes and riding in the rain. :)

Plans For The Appalachian Trail

Some really exciting things have been happening and are going to be happening and I feel very strongly about wanting to document them. Since my chrome book died, and has looked like this for the last 4 months with the hopes of it being repaired, I took things into my own hands and replaced it.

RIP

In the next week I hope to do a few catch up blogs about the recent goals I've accomplished and the amazing places I've been, but right now I need to tell you all about what I'm preparing to do.

I found out a few months ago that I was going to have the opportunity to travel to Maine this summer. My family has a lake cabin near the small town of Rangeley. A cabin that my family literally built by hand, and this is the 100 year anniversary of that cabin. So most of the family are coming together to celebrate.

She's so pretty!

It wasn't long before I made the connection that the Appalachian Trail runs right through that small town of Rangeley. In case you'e not familiar, it's an approximately 2,200 mile long hiking trail that stretches from Georgia to Maine. It's one of the triple crown of long distance hiking trails, along with the Pacific Crest Trail and The Continental Divide Trail. Right away I knew I had to fit in some time on the AT. The plan has evolved quite a bit from my initial far fetched hopes.

I thought maybe we could drive across the country, stopping in national parks along the way to explore. Then have someone meet up with us to take our car the last stretch to the cabin so we could hike the AT practically right up to the cabin door. This was going to take waaaay too long so was quickly scrapped in favor of flying, hoping for more time on the AT and at the cabin and maybe a layover in Boston.

I became really attached to the idea of walking 100 miles for the 100 year anniversary. I was thinking I would do the 100 miles leading up to the cabin, or the last 100 miles of the AT, or 100 miles in Vermont that coincides with the Long Trail (the oldest long distance tail in the US), or 100 miles including the White Mountains. Every option had its pluses and minuses.

I was able to get approved for the long amount of time off of work, but husbands changing work situation wasn't going to allow him to be gone as long, so we had to shorten the distance and the overall trip and I had to give up my 100 mile goal, for this trip anyway.

I pouted for a while.

I had to pick a new smaller section. The one I want to do most, is arguably one of the harder sections according to many websites and guidebooks claiming to know about the subject. I looked to easier portions but kept coming back to the Whites. People kept telling me it was gonna be really really tough and I should consider if it was going to be too much of a challenge for our lack of experience.

I pouted some more and considered more options.

I want the view from Franconia Ridge. Nothing else was giving me the same feeling. It's  like it's calling to me.

Then during a overnight trip to the Cabinet Wilderness in Montana (I'll tell you all about this in one of those catching up blogs I'll get to later this week), we were struggling a bit and I had decided we weren't up to it. That the Whites and Franconia Ridge were out of our league. I was even mostly ok with having to surrender defeat. The next day, on Instagram, REI posted this picture of my ridge!

Is REI teasing me or unknowingly cheering me on? Call it a sign? I don't know. I feel like I have to at least try. So we are going for it!

The plan as it is now: Franconia Notch to Crawford Notch. I got my maps the other day. The feel of the waterproof maps gave me goosebumps. I'm simultaneously more excited and more nervous for this than anything else we've done so far.

My Mom, Katie, Bear dog and our backpacking gear are driving across the country, following the Oregon Trail, and meeting us in Boston next Saturday, they left yesterday in fact. We arrive late, so they will have already set up camp for us, and we will have a quick turn around, with some serious jet lag I imagine, as we get dropped off the next morning, IN FRANCONIA NOTCH, in New Hampshire. (EEEEEEEK!!!)Then my parents will take the kids up to Acadia NP while we are hiking. It will be a short first half day, followed by 3 full days, and another half day. Then my brother and his girlfriend will have just flown in and will pick us up, armed with clean clothes and deodorant, on their way to the cabin.

We will get to spend 8 wonderful days at the cabin. From there we will have easy access to many day hikes on and off the AT. I especially look forward to hiking Saddleback Mountain. It's kind of ironic, since my grandparents tried to get me to hike it on a previous visit as a teenager and I refused to go since I resisted anything that required any effort. How things have changed!

Every moment on the trail will be cherished. I am beyond grateful for this opportunity and to get a chance to be a part of this community of hikers. Seriously, I would be THRILLED if I get to chat with a through hiker in action! So far, it's teaching me to me flexible and willing to adapt my plans, on and off the trail.

And when I'm not hiking I will most likely be relaxing right here. So, yeah, it's gonna be amazing.

See you soon!

Bike Swap 2015

I have a great appreciation for events, businesses, and individuals they allow people to have access to outdoor recreation equipment at a discount. It can be super expensive to get into a new activity and that can be discouraging and prohibitave for some to getting started. Making these things accessible  to those wanting to get started is important to me.

I recently had the opportunity to volunteer for the Spokane Bike Swap again. I absolutely love this event! It's a great opportunity to get a new or new to you bike at a reasonable price. This is where Josh and I got our bikes last year. Bikes we then used for our sprint tri and our 100 mile bike ride,  among other day to day adventures. I can't speak highly enough of this event and the wonderful people who organize it. In addition to being a great place to score a bike it is also a fundraiser for the Centennial Trail which is near and dear to my heart.

This year I showed up at volunteer orientation and was able to share my story and appreciation for the event with one of the organizers.  She responded with enthusiasm and had me retell my story multiple times and encouraged me to join the committee. I then sat at a table with a guy who must have overheard me and said, "Hey, I helped you pick out that bike!" Awesome. I had one of those I'm right where I'm supposed to be moments and I couldn't have been happier.

The bike swap appeared to be a great success and I was proud to be a part of it. I spoke with the lovely organizer woman from orientation night a few more times and grew especially fond of her. I hope our paths continue to cross and we have many more opportunities to work together.

The Slow Friend

At the end of February I set out for a an adventure with some of the REI ladies. I had drooled over the pictures from last year and was thrilled to get to be a part of Chicks with Sticks 2015. 2 days and 2 nights at the Izaak Walton Inn in Glacier, with a pit stop the night before in Missoula. It was everything I had hoped and more.

 We had joked about how the bears would be coming out of hibernation early and we should take a slow friend. Turns out this is the role I would be filling.

For our only full day in Glacier I was in pretty good shape, considering how much wine I consumed the two nights before, but I still didn't feel tip top and I was extra emotional. I knew a big snowshoe adventure was the plan for the day. The goal was to get to the lake that one of the inn workers said was about a 3 hour trip. Weather that was 3 hours round trip or each way was unclear.

I was a ball of nerves and insecurities. This would only be my second time snowshoeing. In my eyes, everyone was experienced and had far more appropriate gear than myself. I even had a couple minor breakdowns and cried for a minute privately in the bathroom. I didn't want to NOT go, really that was never an option for me, but I was afraid of not being able to keep up. And being really embarrassed about my lack of experience. 

We marched up the groomed trail and I foolishly thought how this wasn't as hard as I had built it up to be and right about that time we approached a small sign indicating the trail we needed to take to get to the lake.  The new trail split from the gentle groomed trail and jutted up the steep mountain in narrow daunting switchbacks. Shit. It was instantly much, much harder. My snowshoes were intended for easier trails and didn't have the gripping spikes I really needed.

A couple of the girls turned back in favor of some more leisurely cross country skiing and relaxing around the cabin. I had a moment where I had to decide if I wanted to continue up the difficult path or retreat with them back the way I had come. This would likely be my only chance to flee.

To continue or to go back?  That was the question. That is always the question it seems.

I was the new girl and I wanted to prove to them and to myself that I belonged here, that I was part of the group and I could do this.  So I took a deep breath and turned to continue up the mountain. A few warm tears ran down my cold face and I worried I was making a bad choice as I was clearly struggling, but it was too late, there was no turning back now.

Up and up we climbed on the slippery narrow trail. I was by far the slowest and had to stop often. I apologized multiple times for slowing them down, but they insisted it was no big deal and they were fine waiting for me. I still felt bad.

Snow started coming down in huge fluffy flakes and the trail became less obvious. We came across a clearing with a great view and stopped to take pictures and appreciate where we were. Snowshoeing in Glacier, that's pretty awesome. 

Then the trail was gone.  We decided to turn back so we wouldn't get lost with the snow coming down more and the possibility of it covering up our tracks leading the way back was real. We later found out that we shouldn't have even been on that trail due to avalanche danger. SO, that's exciting.

We made our way back down the mountain to the groomed trail and I let out a whoop! I did it! And more importantly I didn't give up on myself. 

We never made it to the lake. I'm sure they could have made it if they hadn't had to keep waiting for me. But they never once made me feel inadequate.  They encouraged and supported me and said they were glad I was there. I appreciate and value them and this experience more than they could ever know.

5 hours after starting our journey,  we made it back to the cabin where there was a hot tub calling us. We ate, drank, played Cards Against Humanity and Just Dance all night. It. Was. Perfect.