Alexandersmap

    Category: Hiking

    • Hiking Through the Boulders of Pawtuckaway

      On a cool, raw and occasionally wet Sunday an avid hiker friend and I explored the trails and summits of Pawtuckaway State Park. Situated within the towns of Nottingham and Deerfield, New Hampshire, Pawtuckaway is easy to reach compared with some other mountains in New England. And of course it’s hard to call them mountains at all, if you want to get righteous about the height thing. Doing North and South Mountains together offers a gain of only 1409 feet, I’m told, but the story isn’t the elevation gain, it’s the geological interest that draws you here.

      “High up on South Mountain a dike of black trap rock cuts the granite-like rock of the mountain, and breaking out rectangular blocks provides the treads and risers of Devil’s Staircase. The top of South Mountain and the firetower rising above it command a view overlooking the sea to the east and the mountains to the north. The Devil’s Den Trail to North Mountain first passes the huge Pawtuckaway Boulders. These tremendous blocks of rock ranging up to 60 feet in some dimensions and probably comprising the largest group of boulders anywhere, are strewn for about a quarter mile along the trail. Once a part of North Mountain, they were plucked by the glacier during the Great Ice Age and dumped in their present position when the ice melted. Devil’s Den was hollowed out by this same plucking action.”
      — Jacob Freedman, The Geology of the Mt. Pawtuckaway Quadrangle

      “Forces in the earth developed a circular fracture around the solid rock, and into this fracture more magma of a different composition rose. It consolidated to form a gray coarse-grained granite-like rock called monzonite, which now makes up the circle of the Pawtuckaway Mountains in what is called a ring-dike.” — Jacob Freedman, The Geology of the Mt. Pawtuckaway Quadrangle

      Winding through these fields of plucked glacial erratics, you’ll find plenty of rock climbers bouldering the monzonite, mountain bikers and the usual assortment of casual and serious hikers navigating the trails, and a surprising amount of horse manure indicating that some of the trails are very popular for horseback riding. There are gravel roads throughout the park as well, and we found these to be useful connectors between trails on our 12 mile hike.

      Reading about the history of the area, it seems there was a character known as the “Barefoot Farmer of Pawtuckaway” named George Goodrich who played a large role in making it a state park. The Goodrich family farmed this rocky land, and you can find the family graveyard within the state park. I can’t imagine hiking the terrain barefoot the way he farmed it, but I suppose a few decades of barefoot farming would go a long way to toughen up the toes.

      New Hampshire is in a serious drought, and you could see the impact it’s having in the streams, ponds and wetlands. Stream beds are largely dried up and the ponds are showing plenty of their muddy bottoms. The foliage is muted this year too after the stress of a dry season. But our hike coincided with the beginning of a few days of rain, and we hiked out to a misty, raw sendoff.

      I’d hiked this place before, almost twenty years ago, focused mainly on South Mountain and the fire tower you can climb up. That’s surely the most popular trail because it’s relatively easy with a nice payoff in views when you reach the summit. But for my money, North Mountain and the ledges and boulders below it are the most dramatic and fascinating place in Pawtuckaway. If you go, you can’t miss them. Shoes are optional, of course, but highly recommended.

    • The Waterfalls of Letchworth State Park

      If you love waterfalls (and who doesn’t love waterfalls?), Upstate New York is the place for you. Get beyond Niagara Falls and you find hundreds of waterfalls worth exploring (officially over 2000). I’ve written about many of the waterfalls of New York over the years as I’ve explored them, but circumstances had never gotten me to Letchworth State Park to see their beloved three on the Genesee. During a drive from Cleveland to Boston, we finally stopped to see what all the fuss was about.

      Once you get off I-90, the rule is single lane roads rolling up and over hills through the never-ending farmland and woodland of New York. This rule demands two things: a full fuel tank and an empty bladder. Obeying these rules will get you to your destination eventually. Letchworth State Park is a destination worthy of that drive.

      Rolling in on a hot summer day, we pulled up to pay the $10 day entry fee. The park official looked up at the bug-spattered roof bag and asked if we planned on camping. “Nope, just here for the afternoon”, we assured her, and followed her instructions that led us to the restrooms. We all must prioritize our time based on the urgency call of the moment.

      After getting our affairs in order, we drove back towards the southern entrance to the park to the impressive railroad bridge spanning the Genesee River (Portage Bridge). There was ample parking for a Sunday hike, and we quickly made our way to the trailhead at Portage Bridge. Being a New York State Park, you come to expect elaborate public works like staircases, walls and railings, and there they were to greet us as we made our descent.

      The three waterfalls in the southern section of the park are the Upper Falls, Middle Falls and Lower Falls. The Upper Falls, with the railroad bridge spanning the river above them, offer a beautiful view. The Middle Falls are the most impressive and are the falls you can get closest to. The Lower Falls are further away as you’re hiking, but on easy terrain for the average hiker. Once you’ve arrived at the Lower Falls you can either continue hiking through the canyon or turn to head back to where you started. We opted for the out and back, making a solid 5 mile round trip.

      Letchworth is a park full of campers and day-trippers. There are plenty of amenities situated along the route, from restrooms to a restaurant with gift store for those wanting perfume-fragranced candles and such. Closer to Upper Falls there’s even an ice cream stand. That proved a fortuitous opportunity for us to purchase some cold drinks to reinvigorate for the final climb back up to the trailhead.

      As we were rehydrating four girls with their grandmother were walking away from the ice cream stand with soft serve cones quickly melting in the sun. As they licked to keep up, one of the girls said, “Best day ever.” as they made their way to a picnic table. I thought to myself, you just might be right.

      Upper Falls
      Middle Falls
      Lower Falls
      Genesee River below Lower Falls
      Classic New York State Park stairs and railings

    • A Hike in the Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve

      I don’t hike enough. And I don’t see my daughter nearly enough, so a weekend in Los Angeles filled the gap between East Coast and West Coast. She found a gem of a hike in the Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve for our final day together before I flew home. And as usual, we found adventure.

      “The more than 5,600-acre Upper Las Virgenes Open Space Preserve in the Simi hills at the western edge of the San Fernando Valley, is part of a critical ecological linkage and wildlife corridor between the Santa Monica Mountains and the ranges to the north. Hikers, runners, mountain bikers and equestrians enjoy miles of trails through rolling hills studded with valley oaks, sycamore-lined canyon bottoms, and vistas of unspoiled California landscapes.” — Upper Las Virgenes Open Space Preserve web site

      Our hike in May coincided with peak blooming of the wild mustard, painting the rolling hills in yellows and greens. That wild mustard is an invasive species and takes over the landscape. It also grows pretty tall, well over my head. On the main trails that’s a pleasant observation. On the single-track side trails, it becomes a gauntlet of greenery that almost fully obscures the trail. Those flower petals quickly cover you head to toe. Naturally, we chose these trails to close out 2/3rds of our 4 mile hike. Who doesn’t love an adventure?

      Neither of us would have hiked it solo, but with me parting the sea of mustard and my daughter keeping a close eye on All Trails, we found a strong pace for the trail. The only lingering concern was the distinct possibility of disturbing a rattlesnake partially obscured on the trail. So every step was a close survey of where I was about to step. And one step at a time we eventually completed the hike and savored a celebratory tap of our Garmin watches as we got back to the car.

      Our hike was admittedly unique. Anyone sticking to the main trail will have an easier time of it, and be able to fully savor the views. We also hit the trails while the wild mustard was at peak. Beautiful for sure, but also a contributor to the state of the single track trails. Know what you’re walking into and choose wisely. For us, it was another strong memory built on a bit of boldness.

    • Going From, Toward

      “A traveller! I love his title. A traveller is to be reverenced as such. His profession is the best symbol of our life. Going from —— toward ——; it is the history of every one of us. It takes but little distance to make the hills and even the meadows look blue to-day. That principle which gives the air an azure color is more abundant.”― Henry David Thoreau, The Journal, 1837-1861

      Any hiker is familiar with Thoreau’s description, so too any sailor. Those who venture out into the world are bound to find it. It takes but little distance to make where we’ve been take on a bluish hue. The same can be said for where we’re going, if we look far enough ahead anyway. Life is only abundantly clear when we live in the present. ’tis this day that we must seize.

      Just as Thoreau documented his life through his journal entries and the books he wrote, so we may document our own journey from, toward. These breadcrumbs show where we are as much as where we’ve been. The act of writing every day, then publishing a bit of it, has changed each of us that travel this path. The lingering question isn’t when we’ll stop writing, but why it took us so long to begin? So much of our pre-writing lives will remain entombed within us when we pass one day—isn’t that a pity? The world doesn’t need to know all the details, but there are some tasty breadcrumbs growing stale back there on the trail.

      It’s essential to ask ourselves where we’ve come from to bring us here. So too to look at where we’re going. The act of writing about such things is contemplative and enlightening, states the world ought to linger in more than it currently does. I often get caught up in the excitement of tomorrow, and were it not for the daily ritual of writing I might miss now altogether. Life isn’t meant to be shaded in blue, but lived forthwith—with all the immediacy and urgency that word conveys. What would we write about tomorrow that reflects where we’ve been today? Steer towards that.

    • The Audacious Turn

      “There’s no glory in climbing a mountain if all you want to do is to get to the top. It’s experiencing the climb itself – in all its moments of revelation, heartbreak, and fatigue – that has to be the goal.” — Karyn Kusama

      This week has been filled with moments of revelation, heartbreak and fatigue. Sure, the Olympics has been jammed with such moments, but really, I’m talking about my own unique combination of work week, exercise regime and writing. Anything that represents the climb for us is bound to be full of highs and lows. The trick is to learn to accept it all and keep climbing.

      What makes life more interesting—the view at the top or the obstacles we navigate along the way? Perhaps a better way to ask that question is, which makes the better story? Life isn’t simply that Instagram post capturing the sunset, pretty as it may be, it’s the hike up to earn it and the careful descent down the rock scramble afterwards that we’ll talk about in the days that follow. The thing about climbing is that even while we’re constantly facing challenges, we grow more and more prepared to tackle such things. We grow more fit, more resilient, more determined to do just a little bit more tomorrow. And live to tell the tale.

      This summer has been a reacquaintance with cycling. There are rides I’ve done recently that I wouldn’t have done a month ago. I’ve noticed that the more I ride the less I go to the rail trails. Sure, we can ride them every day and avoid most climbs and vehicle traffic, but what have we experienced? The steep hills I opted out of climbing before are worth tackling now because I’m less intimidated by the climb and because flat gets boring. We do the work that we may climb, and so it follows that we must climb when we’ve done the work.

      That nagging voice is reminding me that there are other hills that I keep riding past in my life in favor of easier rides. There are chapters to write that haven’t been written, awaiting a bolder version of me. We can go an entire lifetime saying we’ll do the tough work tomorrow and never make the audacious turn up that hill. Then again, we can simply be bold today and see how it plays out. We are here to experience it all, aren’t we? So what perceived limitations will we test in our life today?

    • A Hike to the Hollywood Sign

      If there’s anything iconic in Los Angeles, it’s the Hollywood sign. It’s so deeply engrained in our cultural awareness that when you actually see if for the first time it doesn’t seem real. But there it is, atop Mount Lee, surrounded by chain link fencing, surveillance cameras and warning signs about trespassing. One should heed the warnings, if only to avoid the rattlesnakes and Mountain Lions said to roam the area.

      And that’s the irony of the Hollywood sign: for something so famously welcoming, it’s surrounded by signs telling you to stay the heck away from it. The neighbors don’t want you anywhere near it. The people who protect the sign from vandals take great measures to remind you to stay away from it too. What’s a hiker to do but press on in the face of all the dire warning signs? There are public trails leading to it, after all. The aim isn’t to get within arm’s length of the letters—it’s to be close enough to say you got there.

      We hiked up there early on a raw, wet Sunday morning. There were plenty of other hikers making the same trek, including a busload of tourists with umbrellas and a couple of small groups led by tour guides. The hike is roughly 5 miles round trip from the closest parking area, on terrain (access road) that is forgiving for the sneaker-wearers. Total elevation for our hike was 856 feet. So really, anyone healthy enough to walk it can make it to the summit of Mount Lee, just behind the sign. There are surely longer hikes, but in a land of mudslides those aren’t so fun in the rain.

      So why do it at all? Because it’s there, partly, but also because it’s got amazing views of Los Angeles on a clear day. And really, because it’s kind of cool to say that you’ve done it at least once. Hiking snobs may sniff at the elevation or the bands of tourists swarming around them, but who cares? Sometimes simply hiking for fun is more than enough of a reason to go.

      Los Angeles rising through the mist

      Access road signage designed to jolt the casual tourist to awareness

    • A Visit to Red Rock Canyon

      The region I live in was experiencing a total eclipse on April 8th. I was in Las Vegas, Nevada with an opportunity to see a partial eclipse. I might have been chagrined by this at another time in my life, but now? Amor fati friends. I watched the eclipse I had before me and made the most of the place and time I had available and visited Red Rock Canyon.

      Red Rock Canyon more than lives up to its name, but red is just one of the many colors in this desert environment. Calico might have been a better choice, and one section of the scenic drive does have that name. It’s a stunning departure from the ugliest parts of humanity you might find elsewhere in the city.

      The scenic drive is a one-way, 13 mile loop winding through the canyon. The one-way nature of it is a blessing as drivers are distracted enough already by the scenery without having to worry about cars coming at them head-on. But it does mean you should take the time to stop at every point of interest for there’s no going back.

      A drive is nice, but I was here to hike. There is a nice network of trails throughout the area, but we spent the bulk of our time at Calico Hills scrambling and hiking amongst the massive sandstone formations. It was similar to Joshua Tree National Park in many ways, without the scale of that place, but more than making up for it with convenient proximity to Las Vegas.

      The region is very popular with rock climbers and we watched dozens of them climbing the cliffs on our hike. Like gambling, rock climbing is not my game, but I can appreciate the skills of those who pursue it. Hiking and scrambling are enough for me, and in a place this beautiful this close to the Vegas Strip, I found the experience both exhilarating and immensely enjoyable.

    • The Audacity to Give It a Go

      I want a life measured
      in first steps on foreign soils
      and deep breaths
      in brand new seas
      I want a life measured
      in Welcome Signs,
      each stamped
      with a different name,
      borders marked with metal and paint.
      Show me the streets
      that don’t know the music
      of my meandering feet,
      and I will play their song
      upon them.
      Perfume me please
      in the smells of far away,
      I will never wash my hair
      if it promises to stay.
      I want a life measured
      in the places I haven’t gone,
      short sleeps on long flights,
      strange voices teaching me
      new words to
      describe the dawn.
      — Tyler Knott Gregson, I Want a Life Measured

      I’ve gotten out of the habit of traveling on a whim to whatever comes of the search, “waterfall near me” and “historical site near me”. Lately I’ve been tied to the desk more, with the puppy guarding me awaiting any indication that it’s time to go out and play. The thing is, shouldn’t it always be time to go out and play? We ought to build more adventures into our days.

      Yesterday, I had the beginnings of such an adventure, finding a trailhead near a meeting I was attending. Near a place I’d been a hundred times and never heard the whisper for the din of highway traffic and places to go. A trailhead that promised waterfalls and crisp, slippery December walking. I wore the appropriate footwear and got myself to the trailhead hoping to see at least one of the two waterfalls on the trail. I ran out of time and saw neither, but got a quick hike in anyway. I’ll consider it recon for the next time I’m in the area. Adventures partially fulfilled are better than no adventure at all. The audacity to give it a go is itself a measure of a larger life.

      What stirs us? Reaching the waterfall or the act of reaching out for it? Surely both, but any adventure begins with beginning. When we seek out more adventure in our lives, we generally find it. Every step out into it is an invitation to go further still. And even on those days when we have to turn back towards what is expected of us, the conspiracy of the adventurous spirit remains, whispering “try again another day”.

    • Worthy of Becoming

      “What makes a man beautiful? Isn’t it being an excellent man? And so, if you wish to be beautiful, young man, work at this, the acquisition of human excellence. But what is this? Observe who you praise, when you praise many people without partiality: do you praise the fair or the unfair? ‘The fair.’ Do you praise the moderate or the immoderate? ‘The moderate.’ And the temperate or the intemperate? ‘The temperate.’ Therefore, you know if you make yourself a person like those who you praise, you will know that you will make yourself beautiful: but so long as you neglect these things, you must be ugly, even though you arrange all you can to appear beautiful.” — Epictetus, The Discourses

      We all aspire to something. Beauty. Power. Wealth. Fame. What we might become prods us along, becoming our why. This blog was born out of a desire to be a better writer, to express through a keyboard all the things I’d deferred in favor of other aspirations. That I stick with it is telling, for it betrays who I wish to become with every post.

      There’s been a steady improvement in the writer (perhaps also the writing) as change is documented, great works are read, routines are attempted. That he remains imperfect speaks to how far he had to go. He rarely speaks in the third person so this must be a very serious point. Or tongue-in-cheek. One never knows with this writer… and by that I mean one always knows.

      The thing is, the progress is there when we go look for it, when we have an aspiration worthy of pursuit. When we pass that magical ten thousand hour milestone, we believe we might just be mastering something but have learned just enough to realize we’ve got so very far to go. We never master anything, we only pursue excellence from a higher plane. But isn’t the view that much better? Just look at how far we’ve climbed!

      Any hiker will tell us this is a false summit. It feels like we’ve arrived but soon realize that it isn’t the summit at all, simply a small rise before we descend again to begin the next ascent. This can be crushing for the undisciplined, or simply a part of the climb for those who are more resilient. The trick is to stop looking around and start climbing again. Just good enough isn’t what we aspired to when we began this journey.

      Since we can’t possibly climb every summit in a lifetime, we must choose what we’ll aspire to master and what we’ll choose to be average or poor at. We ought to choose to fail at the things that won’t matter in the end that we may put all of our energy into developing within ourselves that which is truly beautiful. Arete—personal excellence, is our true summit, and thus worthy of the climb.

    • Thoughts on the Scramble

      “Only those who decline to scramble up the career ladder are interesting as human beings. Nothing is more boring than a man with a career.” — Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago

      A few days of sailing had the desired effect. The stress accumulated, overflowing and leaking out of my pores, revealed in comments and recent blog posts was finally released. That’s a symptom of too many active endeavors leading up to a boiling point, of sorts, without the necessary reprieve of time off. Why do we do this to ourselves? Because we’re seeking meaning in prestige, earning potential and perceived value others place on us. It’s nice to be wanted, and even needed, even as it sucks the very life out of us at times. So it goes.

      We ought to lean into our vocation, and less so into pursuits less worthy of our brief dance with vitality. But ought to’s are tricky things. There are things we must do and things we might do, and things that fall in between. Life is this navigation and this dance.

      To be a great navigator is to decide on a proper course based on the relevant data, while ignoring the frivolous tangential information. So do we question our active pursuits? Shouldn’t we? How else can we determine the essential from the tangential?

      What we fill our days with ought to matter a great deal. Even as I write this, I’m weighing the high of a few days off from my primary work, an admittedly lighter lift on blog posts and time with exceptional people against a keen desire to open up the work computer to set the table for a productive week. If time off is so fulfilling, why are we so eager to roll up our sleeves and get back to business? What gives?

      When we find meaningful ways to contribute, ways that offer value to others while speaking to something within us, we’ve reached a state of working bliss. This may sound ridiculous on the face of it, but there’s something to being productive in work that matters to us, even as there is also value in doing the essential things that aren’t that work. So if traveling to fascinating places, learning new languages and skills, sailing, hiking, reading great books and poetry and socializing with great friends makes a person more interesting, so too might dabbling in work that matters. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

      This isn’t a contradiction, it’s a personal audit of what matters most, which we all ought to do from time to time. Work that matters carries us to places of joy, purpose and yes, usefulness. This makes us more than interesting, it makes us contributors in the game of life, raising the stakes for the lot of us. This calling is ours alone. For what are we here for but to be useful in our own unique way?