Meet Gregg and Deia - February 22, 2009

This past weekend I attended the Adventure Travel Expo in DC. Although our hearty tree-embracing buddies fom NOLS and AMC were in attendance the majority of vendors seemed to be pitching "luxurious" travel packages to "exotic locales," oh that most irritating of oxymorons: "upscale adventure" (see "Outside Go"). I'm sure ziplining through the rainforest from the window of a five star hotel and traversing the Alaskan backcountry in an RV has its own particular magic to it but I Chinatown bussed on down to DC for something bigger. Well, primarily I wanted to hang out with my wonderful mom before she heads back to the Philippines but I also went to listen with keen intensity to Gregg and Deia's story.

Across the Andes

Deia Schlosberg, 28, and Gregg Treinish, 26, were the first people to thru-hike the entire 7,800 mile (+/-) length of the Andes along its skyscraping spine. Deia was also the first woman to walk South America. It isn't simply the scale of the task that is so epic, it was their style and purpose in doing it that makes the feat all the more affecting. For much of the journey they were without adequate topography maps and GPS. Through one section of Peru the only maps they had to go by were the scale generally found on classroom walls. By their own estimate they bushwacked half of the distance, often through nearly impenetrable vegetation, ice cold glacial waterways and deep muddy bogs. They regularly endured typhoid fever, stomach virii and other severe ailments. They set off on their "7,800 mile trek toward understanding" with the intention of learning from the experience of peoples who've used a variety of sustainable methods of living for centuries and in some cases have only heard tales of gringos. It was heartening to hear how genuinely warm, giving, funny and curious people they came across were (and how often they pointed Deia and Gregg in the wrong direction). One photo displayed a mountaintop adobe brick hut house attached with a solar panel, a striking marriage of traditional and modern methods. Another slide showed the devastating environmental and social consequences of ubiquitous copper mining in Chile. In one moment I found particularly moving Gregg shared his surprise when he discovered a conservation effort he once admired had actually displaced people in Patagonia. Their odyssey even contained a worthy romantic subplot: Gregg proposed to Deia at the lighthouse at the end of the continent. (She accepted.)

In person Gregg had an infectious humility and smile. I was glad to get to share with him how thinking of their trials helped me push through my own, microscopic by comparison. If heroines and heroes are simply ordinary people that do extraordinary things in service of a calling much larger than themselves, well then my netdwelling friends, meet Gregg and Deia.

(Photos from AcrossTheAndes.com)

My Apologies, Harriman: February 17, 2009

Look Harriman, I'm sorry. I realize I've been dismissive in the past, seeking higher climes when you were looking the other way, more contour lines, steeper cols and broader vistas. Frankly put our relationship isn't where it should be and I am owning up to my part in this equation. After the time you showed me this past weekend how could I not? You may be in the shadow of the Shawangunks and the Catskills, but you too contain multitudes. Thank you, and after this St. Valentine's day I must reaffirm it: I love you.

Okay, I was introduced to a little bit of magic in Harriman State Park on President's Day. The Lichen trail off the Long Path crosses a section of the park that was the site of a devastating fire, leaving a broad ridge of exposed granite and eerie remnants of destruction. It's a Canal Street experience of being above treeline, as you can see from Google's privacy-shattering super spy satellites (this might be a clever way to choose hiking destinations - not all tree huggers actually like to be around trees).

Let's just hope you still love me when I attempt your 26 mile Suffern-Bear Mountain traverse.

Mid-February Catskills Swelterer: February 11, 2009

50 degrees in mid-February on a Catskills 3500 footer? Check.

Wittenberg Mountain may not exactly split the clouds at 3,780' but it will always hold a certain sentimental value in my heart for being my first hike after contracting a nasty bout of freedomofthehillsitis a couple of years ago. Check out four seasons on Wittenberg's wonderful throne-like summit peaking over the Ashokan Resevoir (yes, this is where Conan - the Cimmerian, not O'Brien - would chill, pop bottles and praise Crom if he were visiting). Left-to-right: spring, summer, fall, winter:

Despite a bareboot-beaten and sticky trail snowshoes were the order of the day to the top and back with a few butt-happy glissades coming down the scrambles. The day was so uncharacteristically mild I was gloveless and down to just a base layer for most of the day. In other seasons the Burroughs Range trail up Wittenberg is sheltered by foliage the entire way up save for a majestic peek at part of the Devil's Path nearing the summit. We were thankful for the forest "droppin' the top" to reveal once hidden views.

Nonetheless I've never found the shortage of vistas tiresome on this peak. The beauty and diversity of the interior forest route rivals any I've seen and the nearly 2,400 feet of ascent involved over 3.9 miles sure as hell adds to the parade. This past summer I was caught on Wittenberg in a fierce electrical storm that brought down a large tree on the trail not far from us (see photos below). It was a little strange then seeing the same tree marked "162 years old" knowing that I was there for its demise: me, mere mortal, not having yet lived a fifth of its lifespan. Aside from a friendly snowshoer and his alpine-capable canine companion we had the mountain to ourselves, a rarity for sure from Woodland Valley. Zeus gave us a break too, the 30% forecast precip never rearing its head.

Forecast Lesson Learnt: NJ Highlands, February 8, 2009

As the scene above and my homey Dan Davis to the right indicates, we hit a little snag on an attempt of the NJ Stonetown Circular hike adjacent to the Wanaque Reservoir. A forecast of a high of 50 degrees and precip under 20% led some of us to come unprepared - cotton, sneakers and no shell nor traction - for the chorus of winter rain and light hail that greeted us at the top of Windbeam Mountain. Fail and bail, but lesson learnt. (Yes, learnt, "learned" implies we won't make the same mistake again.) Forecasting is simply not an exact science. Ironically last summer Dan, a few others and myself were turned just short of Wittenberg's summit by an unexpected and ferocious electrical storm that downed large trees along the trail within a mile of us. Better to be prepared than suffer the consequences (and resort to throwing a smoothie at Nicholas Cage's head out of frustration afterwards).

Summer Recap: Acadia National Park, July 2008

For my 28th birthday last summer I joined my sister, brother-in-law, a few of their friends and my then 8 month old niece Kaya on a camping trip to Maine's Acadia National Park. I'd never been to Acadia before and was a bit perplexed by Acadia's acute popularity given its relatively vertically-challenged character, at least juxtaposed to the lofty reaches of neighboring Baxter State Park and the White Mountains. Nonetheless I was excited to spend my annual solar rotation over beer and roasted marshmellows under a boundless star-studded Northern sky and in proper company. It was also Kaya's inaugural camping trip. One of my sister's friends turned co-conspirator and I also hoped to make successful contact with an intelligent alien race using makeshift tinfoil "conductor" hats. No such luck (not enough foil or Coors Light?), but I did learn to wonderful surprise that elevation ain't everything - Acadia is the IED for real (click on the photo to the right for proof).

Trying to get the most out of the day I picked an 11 or so mile circular route that would take me from Blackwoods Campground to Acadia's signature landmark, Otter Cliff (photo at top of post), Thunder Hole and to the summits of The Beehive, Champlain Mountain, Huguenot Head, Dorr Mountain and the highest point on the Eastern seaboard, 1,530' Cadillac Mountain, respectively. Acadia is supposedly the first point the sun rises in the US and I made sure to catch dawn on the shore near the campground. What a jawdropper, photo below, upper left. While being a park heavily trafficked by tourists using the expansive Park shuttle system Acadia also has no shortage of trails with rugged ascents and daunting scrambles. My personal favorite was the Beehive with its ludicrously narrow ledges and stomach-churning exposure (photos: right, below). Ludicrous!

So what Acadia lacks in elevation it more than makes up for in sharp reliefs from sea-level to summit. Figure A: check out the poorly cropped photo to the right of me descending Champlain Mountain. The camera was tilted on a rock when I took the photo - I rotated it later to show the actual gradient of the slope (trees growing vertically for reference). Despite being some 4,000 feet lower than Adirondack high peaks the feeling on Acadia's summits, notably the southern ridge of Cadillac Mountain, was similar to the feeling of being above treeline in the Adirondacks: boreal vegetation, exposed rocky ridges and unending views. Oh, and with the added novelty of the Atlantic Ocean in full view.

There was a funny moment when I emerged alone from the punishingly steep col between Cadillac and Dorr Mountain onto the summit of Cadillac, only to be surrounded by literally hundreds of tourists who had driven up the autoroad to the top. Initially it inspired mixed feelings of accomplishment and resentment at the overdevelopment of wilderness but that quickly gave way to gluttonous euphoria after raiding the summit gift shop for ice cold PowerAde and Snickers ice cream bars - a scaled down Mount Washington experience. The final trek down the southern ridge of Cadillac back to Blackwoods Campground was otherwordly; the ocean far below dotted with glaciated stepping stones for giants, the sun's waning rays taking a final waltz on its slowly calming surface.

Whether you're an overweight fannypack-rocking tourist, a hiker or rock climber seeking punishing trails and cliffs with the ocean roaring beneath the magic of Acadia truly lies in its variety: few places rival how much it offers in such little area. Even Kaya couldn't complain bundled inside her tent. And maybe...just maybe, you will make Contact.

But you don't have to take my word for it.

Crashed Ice and Stuff White People Like

Rant below but first off check this out:

As a kid who grew up in the "hockey belt" upholding Mario Lemieux as a living deity: two insane thumbs up. And on the subject of ice skating sadly The Pond @ Bryant Park closed its doors for the season this past weekend. The Pond is the only free ice skating rink in New York City and is always a crowded and vibrant affair. I vividly recall one moment when a Black person coming off the ice, in what was apparently their first time on skates, remarked "hey, not so bad for a person my color." If you've ever skated at Bryant Park then you quickly grasp the irony of this comment. Almost all of the "skate guards" and elite skaters are, night in and out, overwhelmingly Black, Latino and Asian; a Lupe Fiasco'esque counterculture of whiz kids, the unlikely mesh of hip-hop and hockey. Skate, push, skate, push...coast.

"Threatening to Move to Canada." It doesn't matter if you're white or a person of color, the StuffWhitePeopleLike blog is riddled with undeniably "zomglolz!" and "ah-ha!" moments. Pretending to Like Soccer? Jesus Harold Christ. And yet after wading through this supposed exposure of dominant culture I'm left with the salty feeling that Christian Lander's blog is ironically a typically non-transformative exercise in hipster-irony. It strikes me as being a sophisticated, if well-intentioned, digital version of a tight-fitting punchlined shirt spotted in the East Village. Beyond the immediate irony of the author of the site being a white man who received a $300,000 book deal (had he been Black would he have snagged such an offer?), there's just a decidedly predictable and snarky tone to it that doesn't actually challenge preconceived and often errant notions of race and culture. Is even 'white culture' in this sense so monolithic, static? Are people of color who enjoy similar things compromising their authenticity, i.e. not keeping it real? Don't a LOT more white people like 50 Cent than Mos Def? Am I uncool as a person of color for loving Mos Def? Why the singling out of liberal and even radical (Mumia supporters) whites? Is it less uncomfortable to poke fun at white people who like traveling in third world countries than it is whites who remain silent when openly racist things are spoken? Is it also ironic that Black and Brown people often fetishize upscale cars, brands and designers who frequently don't bother concealing their resentment? Why aren't the real tough questions asked concerning access and means. Do you think that youth from the ghettos and barrios of our cities wouldn't WANT to experience lands and cultures that only exist to them (in more often than not distorted ways) in movies? Would they not feel the same awe as some of "us" seeing the misty ruins of Machu Piccu, introduced to the rush of carving fresh powder at 30 mph (or 5 mph if you ski like me)?

Figure A: Jarome Iginla, Nigerian-Canadian captain of the Calgary Flames, one of the most skilled, feared and respected hockey players in the world, part of a growing generation of Black hockey players.

Maybe I'm just overly sensitive as someone who straddles so many worlds and roles, between my Filipina mother and Irish last name, as social justice advocate, incendiary rapper and soul singer, my Brooklyn pride and Adirondack roots, between hip-hop and hockey, treeline summits and sea-level streets. But I'd like to think, in the age of an Obama presidency, that culture is so much more alive, fluid, dynamic. People more nuanced, ever-changing. Race relations not so black and white, not so easily boxed and checkboxed. The truth mind-boggingly complex.

I am ALL for making light of our naive foibles and shortcomings but instead of a self-deprecating dive in (white) guilty pleasure, how about a provocative, honest and transformative dialogue on race for once? And on that note, you are sorely missed Bryant Park.

As a more constructive suggestion I urge you to check out the certifiably dope Hip-Hop to the Heights-approved non-profit organization Big City Mountaineers.

Mount Beacon, Breakneck Ridge: Affliction & Addiction

Someday I hope to attempt my probably overreaching ambition of bagging the more notable fourteeners (peaks over 14,000') in Colorado and eventually Mexico's 18,490' beautiful volcanic monster Pico de Orizaba. I can't even begin to imagine their jaw-dropping glaciated panoramic vistas, those "windows into heaven" and the hellish assault required to experience them but even come that day I will still have a soft spot in my heart for paltry 1,260' Breakneck Ridge. Breakneck Ridge is typified just as much by its harrowingly vertical ascent and beautiful overlooks of the Hudson River and Storm King Mountain as it is by its disgustingly crowded (Bottleneck Ridge?) and littered trails. The only trail I've been on more choked with human traffic was Shenandoah's infamous Old Rag, similarly within close proximity to a large city. In the past two years I've climbed Breakneck Ridge some 20+ times and have done the 8 mile ass-kicking Breakneck Ridge to Mount Beacon trek 8 times, including an extended summer trip to Bald Hill where I came within inches of stepping on a very angry, large and rattling Eastern Timber Rattlesnake. Breakneck Ridge is my gear testing site, my wilderness gym, the perfect introductory hike to bring along friends unfamiliar with trees outside of parks, a road to traverse with my head floating like a balloon on a string free from the weight of city toil: it is a just plain ass fun time. I fuccs wit' Breakneck.

Fittingly my first trip report on this blog is of the most recent Breakneck-to-Beacon trip I took with some members of Meetup.com's Hiking & Nature group. It was taken as an unofficial pre-hike in anticipation of an Adirondacks winter trip that I unfortunately cannot make. Meeting people off the Al Gore for activities is a little strange to begin with but meeting strangers to go on long winter hikes of potential consequence is an all-together nutty thing so I was relieved to discover that this small group was equal parts experienced, irreverent, friendly and neither excessively organized nor disorganized. Liz, an ice climber, even learned me on the "screaming pukies" (don't ask, just Google, ugh). Shout out to traildog millionaire Andre for the accompanying photographs - I managed to leave my camera at home. A few of the other photos are from the same trip made two weeks prior with Karen who learned in dramatic fashion the necessity of stabilicers/microspikes/crampons in winter (sorry 'bout the knee!).

Due to a small logistical error - not naming names - we had to walk to the Breakneck Ridge trailhead from Cold Spring. We were all quickly struck by just how fucking cold it was walking down Route 9 with temps hovering in the low teens on the tail end of an arctic cold front. The sky however was a cloudless impenetrable blue, just beautiful. Through the holidays I predictably allowed my conditioning to atrophy so I had some inhibitions about pacing with a group unfamiliar to me. Outside of sweating buckets as the sun rose higher and lagging behind during a tortuous gear change to snowshoes/poles that I inexplicably made without stopping, I managed to drag myself along okay. Time to get my ass back on the Brooklyn Bridge for sure though (and to break in my new Scarpa SL M3 boots, irresponsible purchase #17 of the new year).

The weekend prior I went snowshoeing in similar conditions at Fahnestock Park so I decided to take my MSR Denali Evo Ascents along despite there being only some 5 inches of cocaina on the ground. If you're unfamiliar with the experience winter hiking is a game of layer management. Uncomfortably cold? Add a layer. Warming up? Remove one. The idea is to reduce to an absolute minimum the amount you sweat since it significantly reduces the insulating properties of your (non-cotton) layers, while avoiding frostbite and hypothermia on the other end (fail). The sun, weight of the snowshoes and my own lethargy caught me by surprise so let's say my Xbox 360 Layer Management Achievement was not acquired that day. But I did manage the hairy scramble up Mount Beacon without removing my snowshoes (Sufficiently Stupid But Stable Snowshoe Achievement, 25G).

All in all despite the bitter cold (Mount Beacon you mutherphucker) and late start it was a beautiful day in which we had most of the hills to ourselves. On top of that I met a solid group of folks I hope to get to share trails and snarky punchlines with in the future. The only real bummer was having to literally run from an overrun Chinese restaurant in Beacon to the train station only to find out the train was delayed: completing this traverse is truly worth savoring broccoli in garlic sauce in relaxed and accomplished fashion.

Breakneck Ridge is accessible via Metro-North train from Grand Central Station on weekends. You can obtain a topography map from Tent & Trails or EMS: NY/NJ East Hudson Map Pack. For more information I wrote a guide for a shorter traverse to Cold Spring here.

The photos below are of Mount Beacon, including a view of the New York City skyline in the distance from its summit.