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weshipyourride · 2 months ago

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VP Sue George Attends Ladies AllRide Signature Camp in Vermont

There’s an old adage that says that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Fortunately, it turns out not to be true as our very own Bikeflights Vice President Sue George found out firsthand last week in Lyndonville, Vermont, where she attended a Ladies AllRide MTB Skills Signature Camp.

��You’re doing what?” said some well-meaning friends when I told them I’d be going to a mountain bike skills camp. “Why? Don’t you already know how to mountain bike?”

While it’s true that I got my first taste of mountain biking while growing up in the late 1980s and early 1990s just as mountain biking was becoming popular, I never had any formal mountain bike instruction. Exploring deer trails through Pennsylvania State Game Llands in the Lehigh Valley with my little brother evolved into chasing Penn State Cycling teammates on fire roads and trails through Rothrock State Forest. As a long time track and road racer, I had great fitness, but I was a terrible mountain biker without many skills, especially on rocks. To be honest, there were times in those first few years that I kind of hated mountain biking, but I’ve always been up for a challenge, and I’m stubborn, so I just kept riding.

Fast forward several decades, and I love mountain biking. I can now do it well enough that there’s almost nothing I enjoy more than being out in the George Washington National Forest pedaling all day on singletrack and some fire roads with my partner and friends in Virginia and West Virginia.

Bikes have changed a lot in the intervening decades, and I couldn’t begin to count how many different mountain bikes I’ve ridden over the years. Long gone are toe clips, rim brakes, tires with tubes, undroppable seatposts and barely functioning front shocks. Bike geometries are radically different. And we don’t just ride old deer or hiking trails; today’s riding also includes purpose-built mountain bike trails with all kinds of features.

Upon arriving in Lyndonville, Vermont, where Lindsey Richter and her Ladies AllRide Team were hosting a signature two-day MTB skills camp, we participants were introduced over a happy hour meet and repent and got a quick overview of what to expect. The Wildflower Inn played host to us with its location in the midst of the much beloved Kingdom Trails, and the weather couldn’t have been more beautiful: sunny and warm for most of what would be two beautiful September days.

One of the many things that makes a Ladies AllRide Signature Camp special is the expertise of its coaches. Together, they have a vast amount of experience riding and teaching. They’re also incredibly patient and encouraging for riders of all abilities, and they’ll meet you wherever you’re at skillswise.

First things first, we were broken up into groups based on our experience, abilities and what we hoped to learn. I joined five other women whom I’d get to know over the course of the next two days.

We were the most advanced group, which meant our teachers, Coach Lindsey and Coach Diana, could rapidly progress us through the most basic fundamentals so we could really get into working on the areas where we could benefit the most.

For me, that meant things like changing my position on my bike. I needed to let go of a long entrenched tendency to put my butt too far back, which unweights the front wheel, making me more vulnerable to things not going according to plan. I needed to learn to shift my body forward and be like a “curious turtle”, weighting my front suspension, so it can do its job better, and positioning my arms so that I can more actively respond to whatever the terrain may bring.

It also meant learning things like how to better position my body on my bike so I can pedal around switchbacks, something with which I’ve always struggled.

Our group spent time working on cornering, including how to weight our bikes, where to look, where to point our knees, hips and belly buttons as we turn and how to most effectively brake in corners.

Probably the most challenging skill for me was taking on some small drop-offs and a small jump. I’ve always been someone who likes to keep her wheels on the ground, so it was a big leap for me to trust my new forward body position enough to roll bigger drop-offs and briefly catch some air on a small jump. I didn’t get my wheels off the ground very much, but it was nonetheless an empowering feeling whenever I would get everything just right and float over something that I might not previously have ridden as confidently, or even at all.

Over our two days, we learned and practiced many different skills concepts, something that can be exhausting both mentally and physically and mentally, so it was especially nice to take a break on the second morning to relax our bodies and minds with some pre-ride yoga. As a yoga teacher for nearly two decades, I led our group of ladies through a gentle practice held outside in a grassy field just as the morning fog was beginning to lift over the mountains in the background.

So to those who question whether they’d benefit from a skills camp or other instruction, I say, “Yes, go for it!” No matter where we ride or how long we’ve been riding, there’s always something we can improve. And why not do things that can make mountain biking even more fun?

Ladies AllRide camps are for women, but men, don’t worry, you have options, too. Lindsey and her business partner Meredith Brandt also offer Grit Clinics, whose private, customized clinics are for men, women, kids of all ages and all levels.

Bikeflights is proud supporter of long-time Bikeflights Brand Ambassador Lindsey Richter and Ladies AllRide. Learn more about Ladies AllRide and their skills camps in locations like Grand Targhee, Wyoming; Bend, Oregon; Sedona, Arizona; Whitefish, Montana; Bentonville, Arkansas; and Lyndonville, Vermont.

#bikeflights #bicycleshipping #shipyourbike #cycling #shipthebestway #eventshipping #ladiesallride #vermont #kingdomtrails

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moorheadthanyoucanhandle · 1 year ago

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FETA-CCOMPLI

Now in theaters:

My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3--This chapter of the jovial family comedy has the distinction of being the first to contain an actual Greek wedding. That is, it has a wedding that happens in Greece, not just among Greek-Americans in Chicago.

Toula (Nia Vardalos) and her WASPy husband Ian (John Corbett), hitched in the original 21 years ago, here lead their rowdy clan on a trip back to the old country. They've been invited to a reunion in the tiny hometown of Toula's beloved late father Gus (Michael Constantine), up a series of switchbacks on a mountainside overlooking the sea.

There they meet variously dour and/or wacky relatives and locals in the gloriously beautiful but depressed and underpopulated village. Much food and booze is consumed, and family secrets are revealed. Among these is the love between a handsome young cousin and the radiant Syrian immigrant he wants to marry.

None of these conflicts feel terribly stressful. Written and directed by Vardalos, Big Fat Greek 3 moves forward in long montages of travelogue footage interrupted at times by short, disjointed bursts of dialogue. It's not suspenseful and it's only occasionally funny, but I enjoyed it anyway; it's about familial and generational issues that connect with most of us, especially as we get older. And it's a relaxing hour and a half vicarious vacation in scenery that looks (onscreen) like paradise, in the company of an agreeable cast, and driven along by a soundtrack full of irresistable Greek songs.

Along with Vardalos and the good sport Corbett, the returning players include Louis Mandylor, Joey Fatone, Gia Carides, Maria Vacratsis and, very briefly, Lainie Kazan, all sweetly and amusingly disappated since the first film, along with the apparently indestructible Andrea Martin as the unshakeably self-impressed Aunt Voula. Elena Kampouris returns from Big Fat Greek 2 as Paris, Toula and Ian's unfathomably college-age daughter.

The wild card character is Victory, the town's ebullient self-proclaimed mayor and booster, puckishly played by the Greek theater actress Maria Kotselou. She's quite a find.

#nia vardalos #john corbett #louis mandylor #lainie kazan #joey fatone #gia carides #maria kotselou #andrea martin

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callmebliss · 2 years ago

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My ankle hurts.

I sprained it five or six years ago while moving from the downstairs apartment to the upstairs. I wasn’t back to work yet post-Masters, but SALM was working and all the Spawn in school so I was the primary Carry Shit Up Stairs person. But one I’ll-fated day I was walking Youngest down the exterior steps to meet the school van, coffee cup in one hand and phone in the other, and I failed a Dex roll. My toe caught on the edge of the switchback landing and I

fell forward

toward the stairs

toward my child’s back

I released everything I carried ad my arms flung up and out to catch and brace, coffee splashing all up the side of the house while I cling to the railing trying to slow my descent, my leg bent under me and all my not inconsiderable weight atop my ankle as I clutched desperately at the robes of our dear lord Friction trying to not careen into my child’s back nor knock us both onto the brick landing below

I ride my own leg down six of the seven stairs, and the child was spared. Beloved, he asked me if I was okay, and then ran to retrieve my phone from where it had launched into the driveway, and asked again if I was okay.

“Of course!” I pushed to my feet and took a couple difficult steps forward. “Thank you for getting my phone, have a great day at school!” I smiled and waved and did not cry until the van was completely out of sight, and sat on the bricks and cried and then assessed, and going back upstairs seemed less wise than hobbling to the car and driving myself goofy-footed to the urgent care.

A sprain, they determined, and gave me a cane and a prescription for Oxy and a recommendation to stay off my feet for six to eight weeks.

But, you may recall - we were in the middle of moving.

I managed three days with my leg up, on the couch and on Oxy (which I decided I hate, because it does not make anything not hurt - it only makes me not care that it hurts) before I got back to hobbling up and down the stairs, one step at a time, one box at a time.

My ankle, to the surprise of no one, did not heal right.

Fast forward to last month; my cat bolted out the door and I was rustling up the help of Youngest Spawn to try to herd her back inside. I was talking over my shoulder to him as I stepped out the front door and failed to stick the landing. My ankle rolled with a snap noise and i went down hard.

Not broken; sprained anew. This time I got crutches, a walking cast boot, and a prescription for ibuprofen. I put up with the crutches for a day. I stuck with the boot for four weeks until I broke the valve - I still have, at least, a neoprene Velcro wrap for day to day support.

I’ve also been taking the 800mg ibuprofen all the way through and I am so, so done with it.

So today I went to the weed store.

I went wanting to get a CBD tincture to help handle the pain of the twice-sprained ankle, because it seems reasonable that I’m always going to probably be living with some level of pain and it will be better to work on management now. I asked the dude for CBD tincture. I left with a tincture.

Turns out it is equal doses CBD and THC.

I can not take that before I go to work.

Will it help with the pain? Probably. Will I get fired? PROBABLY.

Does anybody know any reasonable way of getting legitimate CBD oil that is not also rife with the hallucinogenics?!

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neonsamurai · 2 years ago

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So you're also a fan of Klayton's music? 👀 OMG

Aye!! Since like 15 years !!!

My first touch with celldweller was a stupid Heavy Rain Gmv on yt with "long Sentiment" as song... then i heard "Switchback"... and i am in love ever since!!!

My beloved V is also inspired by the song "Frozen" lol

#ask #neonrambles

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mtnkat3 · 2 years ago

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I will always run to You/Alll. Alllways.

No matter if it's wacko mtn switchback roads,

or needing a climber's pick ax to fight thru my asthma & panic attacks to crawl to Your/Alll's feet.

I will run to You/Alll because I love & adore You/Alll,

& my soul's precious perfect beloved

Alpha/s Warrior/s Mate/s ...

You/Alll are more than worthy of every ounce of fight God seeded within me!!!.

I am!!!

~Your's/s'!!!.

DOne, DPOne, & Alll!!!

for eternity!!!!

6.27am

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hikertracks · 6 years ago

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A Pilgrimage to the Northern Terminus

Usually, you only see visit this place after you’ve hiked an extremely long way.

My adventure was flawed long before I reached the trailhead. Its first setback came before I ever left home, when I ridiculously planned to drive all the way to the park from my hometown then hike all in the same day. This plan would not have been a bad plan, except I also planned to leave following a two hour physiotherapy appointment (to correct the whiplash which I was still healing from) and return to my homeland the very next day, giving me very little time to actually enjoy my destination, a thought which would plague me the entire trip.

The day that my foray began, I was also incredibly silly, electing to stop for doughnuts (in my defense, they were extremely delicious ones from a very good local place,) then the bookstore, then after I had finally gotten my butt in gear, I stopped at another park on the way to my destination where I learned that it actually takes quite a long time to eat pitted olives.

Kentucky-Alleyne Provincial Park, which happens to be one of the most beautiful non-mountainous places in the interior of southern British Columbia. It sports two magnificent gem-like lakes and it’s a spectacular stopover on the way to more exciting places like E.C. Manning Provincial Park and the coast (if you’re coming from the east.)

Thus, it was quite late by the time that I actually arrived in E.C. Manning Provincial Park, but in this case, the seasons were with me - being July, the sun was still standing tall in the heavens. I got out of my new car, which had proven itself worthy of the memory of my previous on the drive there, rummaged through my pack, and immediately discovered that I would learn a little more about thru-hiking on this trip than I had bargained for.

I had forgotten a fuel canister.

Needing hot water in order to eat my dinner of Mountain House Macaroni and Cheese Product (the name is disgusting but the flavour is whoa,) I then went in a vain search for some, eventually giving up after an hour. Returning to the trailhead, I ditched my trusty Pocket Rocket and my beloved dinner into the backseat of my car, then set forth down the trail - the northernmost end of what is undeniably one of the most awesome trails in the world. the 4,265 kilometre (2,650 mile) long Pacific Crest Trail, or PCT.

If you haven’t figured out just with that sentence, well, when it comes to the PCT, I’m a big fan - so stepping onto any part of it, no matter how geographically minute, was a huge deal, even if that piece of PCT was very accessibly only four hours from where I live. Standing in front of the trailhead sign, which whispered only an impression of what could come gave me the shivers, and I gladly started down the trail, clad in improved gear from what I had taken on my recent thru-hike of the West Highland Way. This trip was a test - not just of my new backpack, an Osprey Eja 58, but of me - I had to know how healed I was, and whether my damaged neck could handle backpacking again.

The somewhat unremarkable northern start to a trail which literally crosses a continent.

Just in case you wondered what this puny section of this epic looks like.

Despite the hour - five o’clock by the time I set out - the sun was still high when I left the trail, hiking along the edge of the Skagit River. The trail soon took me away from there, climbing up in lazy switchbacks which would have felt gentle, if not for the veritable horde of mosquitoes who accompanied me. Having stupidly elected to disdain insect repellent, (a decision I had previously lamented as dumb on the West Highland Way thanks to Scotland’s flourishing tick population,) I was forced to hike faster than my nippy friends could fly. This wasn’t hard, except for the fact that the wide trail was taking me very steadily uphill. My breaks consisted of brief pauses to get my heart rate down, then I would charge off again, fleeing my humming insect companions.

A quick view of beautiful mountains peeking through the trees before fleeing Manning’s mosquitoes again.

Most of my views looked like this. Out of sight is the contingent of insects hovering around me.

Besieged by hot sun yet protected from its direct glare, I made my second most spectacular oops of the trip - I took my pink hat off. Then, possibly because of the healthy mosquito population pursuing me, I neglected to pause to put it away. This probably would not have been a problem for many people, but I happen to have a bizarre habit of forgetting when I am holding things. Normally, this isn’t at all an issue - normally, I don’t drop what I am holding, and I continue to aimlessly hold whatever is clutched in my hands. On that day, however, my hands apparently forgot to do what they were doing too, and I didn’t discover this fact until several kilometres had passed. The worst part was the flicker of forewarning of this happening which I had which I ignored - some part of me momentarily recognized that if I didn’t put my hat away, I’d lose it, but I was a ninny and ignored that cleverness.

Me with my beloved pink Outdoor Research Sun Runner Hat in Garibaldi Provincial Park in August 2017. RIP, pink hat, hopefully purple hat will live up to your memory. Photo taken by my dad. (Black Tusk is in the background. I will return someday, Black Tusk, I swear it!)

The junction between a wide trail (practically a road,) and a much more fun thin winding one! (Which just happens to lead all the way to Mexico.)

Triumphantly reaching the junction of the Pacific Crest Trail and the markedly more popular looking Windy Joe Trail (which was at least a metre wide compared to the thin line of the PCT,) I noted that the sun was still in my favour. Knowing that I was close to camp, I decided to ascend Windy Joe and continued up the switchbacks, which were definitely somewhat steeper than the ones on the horse-friendly PCT (although not by much.) My mosquito friends accompanied me, taking care that my breaks were never longer than a few huffs (I found vindictive pleasure in an exposed outcropping of rocks which gave me some beautiful views where the wind gave them trouble,) and I plugged my way up to the top, where an old fire lookout still stands proud, if empty. Immediately taking advantage of its mosquito-proof properties, I went inside the building and finally took a well-earned break, enjoying the fine view of Manning which was presented.

What ho! Views! And wind!

Temporary relief from my parasitic winged companions.

Muahahaha, just try and bite me through glass, little bugs, just tryyyy.

I was apparently so desperate to escape the mosquitoes that I didn’t photograph my sanctuary until I stepped outside again.

Recuperated from the harassment of my insect friends and with my belly full of Clif Bar, I slung my pack back on then stepped outside, where the winged heathens had lain in wait for me. Giving the horrid things a sly look, I bolted from the stony top of the mountain - the mosquitoes may have had an edge on me going uphill, but going down I hike like a runaway freight train. Gravity on my side, I all but galloped back to the trail junction and with a much reduced insect pursuit, I continued onto the PCT, dropping from the little pass where the junction was into the deeper forest. The trail led me through a few twists and turns before finally dropping down to camp - the final camp on this continent-traversing epic of a track. Glad to be home, I happily noted that PCT Camp sported a bear locker (I wouldn’t have to try my skills at a bear hang,) and a better water source than the trickle which I had seen hiking in.

Camp, sweet, camp in the fading light of the day.

All alone, I set up camp, stuffed bars into my mouth (while dearly missing the before-mentioned Macaroni and Cheese Product,) and went to bed, all the while slightly freaked out, because while there’s no bears in Scotland, I was in British Columbia, where every step you take is in bear country. This being a stupid thing to panic about (I had properly stored my food in the bear locker and I had not gotten any of it on myself or my gear, plus bears typically avoid humans,) I employed the magic of my cellphone as a soother, reading my own ridiculous prose off of it until finally passing out.

The next morning, I woke up with my worries of the night before utterly vanished - what was there to stress about? I was in a beautiful place, I was alone and I was on the PCT - the world was suddenly my oyster. Let me just repeat that - I was alone. I know it sounds weird, but I couldn’t have been more gleeful. I didn’t have to talk to anybody - it was just me, the shifting trees, the squirrels, and the (unseen,) bears. I loaded up my reservoir with a fresh supply of filtered creek water then set off, determined to make it to the border and the official finish line of the PCT - the northern terminus.

This was the first trip that I used my Katahdin BeFree on - I really liked its simplicity, but I think I need to test it more before writing a review.

The first of many deadfalls needing a visit from a chainsaw. As far as I can tell, the trail hadn’t seen spring maintenance yet when I was there.

Mountains!

Within metres the trail opened up, showing my views of craggy peaks which I couldn’t believe were visible from Manning (little did I know that later on in the year I would see even better on Manning’s Skyline II Trail.) The trail dipped steadily along the long flank of a mountain towards Castle Creek, becoming progressively more covered in deadfall as I went. Thanking the agility earned from a lifetime of hiking, I jumped, climbed, balanced and rerouted my way around the obstacles in my path until at last I saw a glimmer of water off to my left. Excited, I hurried forwards and at last looked upon something which I didn’t immediately realize was an obstacle - Castle Creek itself. It shone beneath the sun and I happily climbed up onto its bridge, only to stop in my tracks (the mosquitoes had apparently abandoned me overnight so I was fine with halting for a moment.)

Um... what?

Something just isn’t the way that it is supposed to be!

Oh my. (Note the broken support strut.)

I stared. I got back off of the bridge and contemplated, stared at the span, which was thoroughly twisted from whatever had besieged it over the stormy winter. One of its support struts was busted and the deck of the bridge with its railing was so warped that I didn’t dare cross it. I might have been safe, but I value my life, so my gaze fell upon the creek flowing below.

So, I guess it’s time that I tested out all that stuff I read about stream crossings.

This is my ‘I wasn’t expecting to learn this firsthand so soon and I am hoping that I won’t die’ face.

I had never done a true stream crossing - I had picked my way across water bodies only a few centimetres deep, but I had never had to wade. Not wanting to be stopped short of my goal, I stepped closer to the bank, surveying the water and judging the risk it presented. Finally deciding that it appeared safe enough from years of experience wading in rocky Canadian lakes, I took off my shoes, stuffed my socks into my pockets, then began my crossing. The water was fiercely cold but the route I had charted from the bank proved as safe as I had thought it and with the help of my singular trekking pole, I reached the other side. Elated at my success, I re-adorned my footwear then climbed up the embankment and into the PCT’s border camp.

Castle Creek looking pretty and feeling extremely cold on the legs.

Safely on the other side.

Within a few hundred metres I had reached my destination - the heralded, slightly shabby and completely magnificent (bias is a glorious thing,) northern terminus. After reading so much about the trail over the years, seeing the few chunks of nationally flagged weather beaten wood in a deforested strip of land was like reaching a holy temple. I stood there, took a somewhat large collection of pictures and videos (so that my future self could revisit the moment, you see,) and cried a bit (because that’s what you do when you stand in the presence of sacred rotting wood.) After vowing tearfully that the next time I saw it I would earn the right to be in the withering monument’s presence (the monument which was quite promptly replaced by the PCTA, likely only a couple of weeks after I was there,) then staring longingly into Washington a bit (the trail calls,) I retraced my path back to PCT Camp to pack up my tent which I had left behind to save weight.

Unseen in most terminus photos - the hideous metal border marker which hangs out right beside it.

Next time I see this thing I would like to feel significantly more accomplished.

Look! It’s Washington! I resisted the outstanding urge to investigate due to rules and laws and whatnot. (It’s illegal to pass over the border into the United States via the PCT which must be extremely annoying for southbound thru-hikers of the trail, since northbounders do not share their problem and can cross into Canada here just fine providing they have a permit to do so.)

Success after crossing back through Castle Creek; doing stream crossings barefoot usually isn’t advised, but I judged the creek bottom safe-ish for me. I’m going to have to pick up some stream crossing footwear for future adventures so that I don’t take this foolish risk again. Nothing can mess up your hike quite like injured feet, especially when you have no way of calling for help.

The rest of my hike was quite unremarkable, apart from the usual sightings of ill-prepared looking day hikers ruining my precious solitude. I attempted to spot my hot pink sun hat on the way out, but alas, my hat apparently didn’t love me anymore, because I never saw it. My hike was punctuated by encounters with pretty mushrooms, more day hikers headed up to Windy Joe, and a mama ruffed grouse and her brood of adorably fluffy babies. I returned to my car, dejected that I had to drive home (all the way home,) and promptly procrastinated by driving up to Cascade Lookout instead, deludedly thinking that I’d see a treasure trove of alpine wildflowers up there, but alas, all were dead. Finally admitting that it was time to drive home, I returned to the highway and left Manning, dreaming of the PCT all the way.

The slightly muddy-in-places steeplechase of the trail.

Mushrooms!

The mama ruffed grouse.

The Pacific Crest Trail (Canadian Portion):

- The Canadian end of the PCT, at 13 km (8 miles,) is barely a smidgeon of the trail’s total titanic length. It’s an easy trail, but expect lots of deadfall in spring, especially once you leave PCT Camp, and keep in mind that compared to other trails in E.C. Manning Provincial Park, it isn’t as scenic. If you’re coming to Manning for the first time, and you’re not a raving fan of the PCT like I am, then I’d probably give it a pass and hike the Skyline Trail II or Heather Trail instead. The trail is mostly a pretty green forest tunnel, with just a few peeking views of the mountains.

- If you do hike this trail, then Windy Joe may be worth a visit for some views (or for temporarily escaping the mosquitoes.) It’s also a good day hike, although I would hazard to say that the First Brother on the Heather Trail is a more scenic adventure with better views. There are excellent maps on the official government Manning Provincial Park page to help you with this.

- That’s also where you need to go to buy your backcountry permit if you intend to spend the night out in the wilderness.

- You can also access Mount Frosty from this trail; it is reputedly quite a grueling hike, and I haven’t done it yet.

- As I mentioned, at PCT Camp there’s a bear locker and a creek for water; keep in mind that towards the end of summer, water sources can run thin or become non-existent. There’s no tent pads, but there’s plenty of space for your tents. There is a fire pit (only to be used when there’s no fire ban) and an outhouse (pit toilet.)

- PCT northbound thru-hikers usually pass through this final section of the trail in late summer and fall.

Getting There:

- Obviously, the easiest way to get there is by car. If you don’t have one, then it is best to rent one.

- The closest airport to Manning Provincial Park is in Penticton.

- There is currently no bus service to Manning as there once was, although it may be possible that the new Ebus will provide this.

When I Was There: Early July

Temperature Range I Experienced: 10 to 32 ºC

Always Remember: Be prepared! The mountains don’t listen to the weatherman - definitely look at the forecast, but take it as law to your folly. Always bring rain protection (at the very least a $2 plastic emergency poncho,) warm layers, food, water and a first aid kit, no matter what. Your first aid kit doesn’t have to be fancy - mine pretty much consists of leukotape, duct tape, pain killer, tiny scissors, a sewing needle, thread and vet wrap. Always study (and carry,) a map of your trail to predict availability of water and pay attention to trail reports - for example, on the Skyline Trail II there is very little available so it was important to carry extra, but on the northernmost end of the Pacific Crest Trail there’s water every few hundred metres, so extra water wasn’t necessary for that section. Similarly, there was copious water on the West Highland Way in Scotland, so carrying extra beyond the two litres which I was drinking daily there was the definition of silly - however hike somewhere hot like the Mohave Desert and you may find yourself having to carry several day’s worth of drinking water. Once again, be prepared!

#Pacific Crest Trail #PCT #hiking #trekking #thruhiking #thruhike #tramping #ec manning provincial park #manning #manning park #backpacking #northern terminus #pacific northwest #pnw #british columbia #Canada #mountains #forest #trail

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boggirlsummer · 3 years ago

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Trail Report - June 21, 2021

Zoey and I had a relatively chill day after yesterday’s performance. We walked through the Subway Cave in Lassen, a 0.3 mile long lava tube that was cold on an 80 degree morning and full of kids saying weird and funny things. Then we started our hike up Hat Creek Rim, which was super exposed and hot and there were all these giant puff ball flowers around us (the kind you make a wish on, what are those called??) and I couldn’t stop thinking about picking one and wishing for ice.

Illustrations by Zoey

We finally encountered a fellow hiker at the top of the ridge, a young guy decked out in all the hottest gear who said hello as he overtook us and maintained his pace while he announced that he was skipping the next water source (8 miles ahead) as he had just fully hydrated at the gas station in town (weird way to introduce yourself but ok). At the last minute he turned around and asked our names and offered us his trail name - still walking, just turning his neck to yell back at us, as if he didn’t have a single second to waste. I’m still confused as to why he said anything at all.

Over the next hill we came across our first “trail angel” - a “well-intentioned” (according to the Nat Geo PCT map) person who hangs out along the trail and provides food, water, rides, and sometimes more (“trail magic”) to thru-hikers out of the goodness of their heart. I’m already suspicious of people who choose to backpack long distances, so I’m even more confused about these so-called trail angels. I will gladly accept free food and drink, here or anywhere, but I don’t understand what makes these people tick and that weirds me out. I guess it’s like those people who hand out water at marathons…but isn’t that usually for charity or something?? Idk I’ve done a single 10k so definitely not an expert here.

Anyway, we get to this trail angel station and guess who’s there, standing around like he’s suddenly got all the time in the world??? Our fast walking friend from the ridge! The trail angel, a man living in an RV just off the trail, offers the three of us ICE WATER, which actually did feel like some magical shit cause I was wishing/praying for ice up that entire hill. We all walk over to the man’s RV, where he offers us shade, seating, device charging, soda, water, whatever we need. Zoey and I remain standing while we drink our icy water under the retractable shelter but our friend takes a nice comfy sit and plays around on his phone while we chat.

We learn that the trail angel used to live in Quartzsite, AZ, which is where my dad used to stay when he first started living in his RV, and we joke about the two main attractions in town: the gem show and Crazy Al’s pizza place. We also learn that the trail angel recently blew up on TikTok by having passing hikers attempt a disc golf challenge in front of his RV, and just this week a shoe company out of Seattle started sponsoring him to award a free pair of shoes to any hiker who can make a basket from the trail (get it in the hole?? make a goal?? What’s the lingo for disc golf? Let us know in the comments).

Illustrations by Zoey

Eventually, the conversation takes a turn for the worse and our hiker friend begins waxing about his preferred gear, longest mileage days, hydration strategy, and beloved (male) celebrity speed hikers who our trail angel also happens to know (by trail name, at least). Hiker also elaborates on why he’s skipping the next water source (a creek and swimming hole down some steep switchbacks, and Z and I’s plan for the afternoon). Apparently the source sucks because it’s too far off trail, so our hiker friend plans to stop at a water cache maintained by another trail angel instead. Our trail angel makes a few attempts to make eye contact with Zoey and I and restore our participation in the conversation, but his efforts are futile. I am perfectly happy just observing their interaction and feeling vindicated in my previously baseless judgment of this slice of thru-hiker culture.

I’ve always struggled to understand why people participate in extremely grueling physical challenges - not a triathlon or things normal people do, I’m talking like the Barkley marathon or trying to scale Half Dome in one day or whatever happened in that rock climbing movie. Life is hard and short enough! We already know the human body is powerful and can do some crazy shit given the right conditions. If I had a kid, I wouldn’t need them to get pinned beneath a car to prove anything to myself about my potential for superhuman strength. I already know I could LIFT THAT SHIT if I had to!

So yaaaa I understand seeking a physical challenge but I just don’t get the people out here who only seem to care about speed or mileage. If I ever start acting like I don’t have time to eat a popsicle or swim or take photos of all the beautiful stuff I’m walking through, please somebody come get my ass outta here. Am I being too hard on these people? Is there any good reason to hike 35 miles a day and treat your body like a machine? Please help me understand, vouch for these people in the comments.

As we were leaving the trail angel’s house he asked our trail names and I said “no name” but then yelled back as we walked away “Crazy Al,” which I immediately regretted and was glad no one else was around to hear. Hopefully he doesn’t post about us on TikTok. After an 8 mile day, Zoey and I made it down to the swimming hole where we’ve been eating snacks, reading, and watching birds, butterflies, fish, and lizards all afternoon. We’re eating dinner as soon as I finish writing this deranged post.

P.S. As we were leaving the swimming hole a fellow newbie section hiker from North Carolina showed up and jumped in the creek and I’m happy to report that I know nothing about his hydration status.

Daily Trail Stats:

Mileage: 8 (Trail), 13 (Total)

Elevation: ~1,400 ft

Pees as of Press Time: 5 (T), 4 (Z) (still bad!)

Taylor Attitudinal Score: 8/10 (Z: “deducting a point for your thru-hiker critique and also I just need some variation but then again it’s fine to be critical…”)

Best/Worst Song Stuck in Head Today: Boss Bitch, Doja Cat (Z)

#Spotify

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themirthfulroadrunners · 4 years ago

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Adventures Are Us

Anxious to be off, we left home in the dark a full hour ahead of our loosely held departure time and headed for the heart of the Rockies in Colorado. This trip we turned north at a small town in Texas east of Amarillo. (We’ve already been to the Cadillac Ranch). The scenery was nice, a pleasant break from the freeway monotony. For my money, I’d give the entire Texas panhandle to Oklahoma. And while we’re at it, give the northeast notch to Arkansas. And while we’re still at it, Arkansas may as well take the boot-heel back from Missouri. There. We can deal with straightening the rest of the country later.

We blinked at Walsenburg, CO and missed our exit – and very glad that we did. After spending the night in Colorado City, we drove a back road across the Wet Mountains. We’d only once before seen so many deer! The previous occasion was on a dirt road in the Ozarks. But these were mule deer – in excellent health, I might add. I wish we’d had a camera ready for the three bucks we spooked in the road around a curve. Any of the three would have been a trophy, their antlers rich in velvet.

Around another curve we were surprised by a rock castle, a work in decades of progress by a single old man, a Mr. Bishop. We didn’t meet him, but did an old timer that arrived for a re-visit. Bishop did all the designing, welding and rock work himself. Every tower had stairways within. The place was amazing! I don’t know how eccentric the man is, but I liked his signs.

As always, the first sightings of mountains were picture-inspiring, if not totally picturesque. But as it turned out, we were glad of the photos that we took in light of the fact that two fires had ignited near our destination, even closing the freeway westward at our very exit on I-70. The close one began with only 1400 acres, but is currently over 30,000 acres, filling the air, as well as the house, with smoke, and rudely obscuring our beloved mountains. The fire farther west eliminated the possibility of enjoying well over half of our planned excursions. But we were able to get to a town we missed on our last Colorado trip (see blog: Rocky Mountain High). Fairplay is listed as a ghost town in a book that we used as a guide. The little town had a restored section, but as we’ve discovered, if there are utilities available, every ghost town has become home to those willing to commute, live on whatever stipend they get, or make a living off tourists. Fairplay, though, is worth the time if you are nearby. Our visit, though, coincided with the closing of I-70, which forced travelers to reroute westward. Many cajillions of them ventured south from the freeway through Fairplay. And many of those thought Independence Pass was a good idea. There were so many 18-wheeler issues that the authorities closed that route to everybody, cancelling one of our few away-from-smoke excursions. It put us in mind of a trucker dude following GPS up Mt. Nebo in Arkansas. He was high-centered on a switchback and was waiting on a tow truck, blocking the entire road. Another GPS follower was down the inside gorge of a switchback on Hwy 23 - called the Pig Trail in the Ozarks. We managed to get around him.

Picture above is the old jail at Fairplay.

On this trip we house sat in a McMansion on a golf course. We were daily reminded that we would never live in a house with stairs. Let alone a 3-story. It was fun watching golfers. One gal hit a tee shot directly into a pond about 80 yards away, where she immediately sent a second try. Another golfer dribbled his drive about forty yards. The most fun was a foursome of teenaged boys. They hit ‘em sideways, and every-which-ways, even kicked ‘em, not bothering to ever get the balls into the holes. No doubt they were not paying for their experience.

Cars with Colorado tags, excepting the ubiquitous Jeep Wranglers and pick-up trucks, have been 99% foreign-made in this region (Vail, Aspen, Breckinridge). And among the pick-ups, the American brands had strong competition from Nissan and Toyota. I guess these folks have a different concept of loyalty and patriotism than I.

And speaking of cars, our Ford Edge, Sparkly, thoroughly enjoyed his rutted dirt road trip into the mountains (no matter how Debbie worried about him). That road travelled thru cattle ranches, including the Hardscrabble Ranch. (Turns out there are several Hardscrabble Ranches.) I’d sure like to see cowboys try to drive the cattle from the very steep Aspen woods and piney mountain ranges. Speaking of … we did see horse-back cowboys moving cattle somewhere near Pueblo.

As we do, though this year from the drive-up window, we enjoy local cuisine. I had tacos that reminded me very much of the local favorite plaza in Matamoros, Mexico. At another, where the gal answered my question that, “Yes, everyone living here must be a skier,” we got the best soft-serve ice cream ever. Unfortunately, Debbie got chocolate, a rare treat for her, which prevented me from finishing hers, as is our custom.

Driving eastward, away from the smoke (we thought), we drove to Mt. Evans, the tallest mountain that you can drive to the summit. Hah! – closed due to Covid19! Oh well, we still got a very nice mountain hike, and at a resort a great lunch and blueberry pie.

In the restaurant on Mt. Evans

Our house sit included a parrot, a creature Debbie would like very much to have put on a spit. In addition to its 50-100 word vocabulary (wish I could put a video here), it has mastery of human sounds. It can mimic a variety of computer and iPhone toots, beeps, and whistles. It can make the submarine sonar sound that puts you right into the movies. Unfortunately, it can also convince you that the house is afire with its spot-on smoke alarm shrill.

(Just kidding!)

As always, we had our eyes out for old school houses, churches, and bridges. And wildlife. Believe it or not, we spied a wild bear walking railroad tracks. By the time we could get turned around and back to him for a picture, he was, of course, gone. He was brown, but more than likely a full-grown black bear by the way he lumbered.

Steamboat Springs was more our way of living, more home-like than the Idaho Springs – Vail corridor along I-70. Steamboat Springs retained a semblance of the historic town … and a Kum-n-Go and a McDonalds. Alas, no Sonic. There was a very nice waterfall hike nearby that would be fabulous in May or June.

But as if to cap off our adventure, a fire erupted just off the highway where there had been none as we had just traversed the area that very morning. It was close enough to see the somber, higher-than-tree-top flames.

Hoping for clear mountains, we plotted our return trip through the central part of the state. Nope, smoke all the way. We really felt for the folks that not only had to suffer the economic losses related to Covid-19 closures, but then weeks and weeks of fire and smoke. Recovery from a mountain forest fire takes over 50 years.

But alas, we are who we are, adventurers! Fortunately, the home owner opted to cut her trip short. Unfortunately, it was because she was forced to evacuate her airbnb due to the California fires – a true irony.

Next stop, the New Mexico Rockies near Sante Fe. Yay! Adventure on!

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copperbora · 7 years ago

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The Berg Lake Trail: There and Back (Plus Some)

Snowbound high elevations, from Roger’s Pass.

Winter seemed to last too long here in British Columbia this year; in fact, up high in the alpine, winter is still present in most places as I write this, on July 3rd, just over a week after my trip. Mount Revelstoke’s summit is still snowbound and across the Rockies, most high places remain enrobed in a blanket of white, so that one almost begins to wonder whether winter will ever end at altitude this year. Despite this, the world famous Berg Lake Trail (the ‘spiral road’ as it was known to its land’s first human inhabitants,) which graces the toes of the majestic monarch Mount Robson, the tallest peak in the Canadian Rockies, is somehow snow free. With three days off in this past late June and with my hopes of alpine hiking dying, I heard from a client that Robson might be lacking the white stuff. Rushing home after work that day, I managed to procure a reservation for a camp - but just for one night, and at the camp furthest from the trailhead, Robson Pass. It would be a flash trip - 23 kilometres in and 23 kilometres out within a period of 48 hours, for a total of 46 kilometres, more than a standard marathon, kilometres which I would hike completely by myself.

Me, in front of Emperor Falls. Note the mud on my right shin from slipping.

This sound tough? It actually pales in comparison to what some thruhikers do, hiking as far as 48.3 kilometres in a single day (that’s 30 miles!) That being done (reputedly) on a fairly gentle grade compared to the Berg Lake Trail’s almost constant vertical gain, I still felt like this would be a pretty good test of my future thruhiker mettle. While I still have no idea what it feels like to hike for days on end, I do feel that my endurance was proven and I learned a great deal from this trek about my gear. I gained confidence in hiking, surmounting obstacles which once spooked my younger self, half my life ago. I learned that I like hiking alone, that I love solitude, and that I dislike having other non-kin hikers near me, even in camp. (Of course, I also work a highly social retail job; put me in the wilderness by myself long enough so that I can fully decompress from that and perhaps I might be a much more social hiker.)

Going in, I felt concern that other hikers, and, indeed, parks staff, would take offense at my hiking alone because of my gender. Thankfully, I only experienced one moment of sexism, and it was incredibly minor; a concerned guy with quite bad English tried to convince me to let him hike with me at the trailhead. After pointing out exactly how far I was hiking, I gleefully ditched him and bounded onto the trail, whooping in excitement because my long awaited adventure had finally began. I’d been gearing up for this trip for years and while I hadn’t known that Robson would be my first test, I was ready for it and I had been dreaming about returning to the big mountain’s beautiful shadow.

The bounding didn’t last long; it had been a very long time since I had last backpacked and while I had been reading religiously about thruhiking as well as updating my gear for years, while I usually hike with quite a bit of weight for a day hiker (my inner Scout demands that I Be Prepared,) the heft of my new pack was still quite a new thing. I felt like a horse wearing a saddle for the first time and as such, it took me quite a long time to settle into my stride, something which I usually do when day hiking within a few hundred metres. (I have day hiked up to 26 kilometres easily before and I am absolutely capable of 30, although I haven’t tested this.) By the time that I reached Kinney Lake, the first camp, in good time, I had relaxed into my pack, although I was still fighting a battle between the chafing around my shoulders and the chafing around my hips.

Kinney Lake.

Here, I would make a crucial error, although I wouldn’t figure that out until the next day; to spare the pain of my hips, I adjusted my pack wrong and unknowingly threw most of my pack’s weight onto my shoulders. Human shoulders are not load bearing like human hips are; the next day, I corrected the problem and hiked easier, but for this first day, I frantically ate the contents of my hip belt pockets, thinking that that would help instead. (I also drank a lot, thinking that that would be a good idea to shave weight, until I realized that the three litres in my pack had to last me at least fifteen kilometres, so I began drinking more as I felt was needed.)

The first big climb to Whitehorn, a camp set in a small, beautiful river valley, feels grueling, but I rewarded myself with a nice long break beside the water. Here, I filtered water with my beloved Sawyer Mini for the first time, mixing up a bottle of electrolytes in the hopes of augmenting the water supply in my pack on the way up the long climb to Emperor Falls high above me. I also munched on more trail rations, and contemplated how my electrolytes should be stored somewhere more convenient, but somehow I never did do this; next hike!

The suspension bridge at Whitehorn. There used to be another suspension bridge on the other side of the camp by White Falls, but it got washed out too frequently, so the Park replaced it with something more sturdy.

Up, up and away! The climb to Emperor Falls, past first White Falls then Falls of the Pool, was long and draining, especially on a hot day with bluebird weather. (Weather which I was deeply thankful for!) Many switchbacks above White Falls, I found the bench where I had sat with my mom and dad as a fourteen year old kid, the last time that I had visited Mount Robson and teared up. Carrying on, at Falls of the Pool, a super nice but rather confused German tourist snapped my photo for me, succeeding after several attempts. (I suspect that he had never used a phone for photography before.) Climbing up onto a ridge, I caught my first glimpse of Emperor Falls and crossed over a ravine, then after about an hour, I finally found myself at the trail junction for visiting the falls. Here, I contemplated dropping my pack and slack packing to the falls, but I couldn’t bear to be seperated from my stuff, so I clambered down the trail.

Emperor falls, with Mount Robson behind it.

What a relief! The trail became mud as refreshingly freezing mist blasted my body. A friendly trio of girls came giggling down from the falls-side cornice and burst out laughing as my hat was blown off of my head. In rescuing it, I lost my balance and scrambled back onto my feet, a streak of mud freshly adorning my right shin. Adamantly proclaiming myself fine, I retreated from the falls and attempted to take a selfie from a distance and one of the girls took pity on me, taking my picture for me. With my entire front soaked with spray, I went back up the trail and continued my ascent to Emperor Falls’ Camp, which is undoubtedly the prettiest camp on the trail (although my camp, Robson Pass, definitely has the best view!) Finding the trail more level, I cruised on, crossing a scree slope before descending down onto an alluvial fan, from which I watched a couple of helicopters buzz around from their landing spot beside the lateral moraine which hides Mist Lake from the view of the trail. Finally reaching Berg Lake, I was delighted to see that there were indeed icebergs at large and I happily began the final stretch of my hike. Fortune was with me, and I spied a snowshoe hare in its summer coat as it hopped fearlessly out onto the trail for my admiration.

Berg Lake, complete with a berg. Mount Robson stands proud in the background!

Having run out of water, I paused to filter more, refilling my electrolyte bottle in the hopes of getting myself through to camp. Four rare harlequin ducks and two icebergs delighted me close to shore while I rested my sore body for the final push to Robson Pass. Regaining the trail, I finally trod through Berg Lake Camp and passed over Hargreaves Creek, soon finding myself at Rearguard Camp. The trail was flat and gentle, so I had no problem anymore with making distance, but I was still exhausted and very sore by the time I glided into Robson Pass camp. Discovering the site of the outhouse and finding it occupied, I dragged my painful body around the camp to find a tent pad to claim. My attempts to find one away from every other hiker proved in vain but I found one with an incredible vista of Mount Resplendant, Robson, and Snowbird Pass instead. A room with a view! People pay thousands for a place like that, elsewhere.

My view; Mount Resplendant in the foreground, with Robson behind. Snowbird Pass is offscreen to the left.

After pitching my tent and readying my bed, dropping most of my weight in my little shelter, I put my pack back on to hike 1.6 kilometres further, to Adolphus Lake, which I could not stand to miss after seeing it just a teensy bit past Robson Pass on the map. Also not feeling particularly enthused about having dinner in the camp shelter with all the other hikers, I brought my food bag and thus after crossing the border with Jasper National Park, I had dinner right on the tranquil shore of the pristine subalpine lake. This felt like a great reward after hiking for nine hours and my Mountain House Macaroni and Cheese Product dinner tasted sublime, even though I added way too much water (so it was more like cheesy soup.) I half filled my hydration reservoir, gobbled the last of my macaroni and watched the alpenglow light up the mountains, dreaming of hiking further, past what I could see. At the British Columbia-Alberta border, the Berg Lake Trail had become the North Boundary Trail, a 192 kilometre jaunt through Jasper’s backcountry which I yearn to conquer someday, when my gear is better figured.

Adolphus Lake, reflecting nearby peaks graced in alpenglow.

Returning back to camp, I sat by the stream and drew, watching the alpenglow continue its show until it finally faded. Slowly realizing that it had become hiker midnight, that all of my neighbours had gone to sleep, I sought out my own cozy den to seek my brief rest.

In typical fashion, I woke up obnoxiously early, at 6 AM (I seem to be entirely incapable of sleeping in while camping.) Striking camp, I grabbed my food bag, rationing chow fuel into my hip belt pockets for the hike out and gulped electrolytes again to revitalize my tired body. Practically inhaling my chocolate poptarts, I began my trek and quickly felt heartened by the time that I was making. Very quickly I was back at Emperor Falls and descending further, reaching Whitehorn speedily, then hiking back down to Kinney. At Kinney Lake, I took the flats route instead of the main trail to avoid some elevation gain/loss which I had experienced on the way up. Here, I also felt a flicker from my heart, so I drank more electrolytes and rested for a while beside the Robson River.

Those last few kilometres, although flat and downhill, were torturous. I wanted so badly to be done and back at my car, but I was so tired. My left knee had begun to hurt and my poor feet were feeling stone bruised, but I knew that the end of the trail was near. Here, with so many kilometres behind me and so little in front of me, I became incredibly intolerant of day hikers. The day before, on the way up, I had tolerated them passing me - with my heavy pack and the grade, there had been no way for me to outpace them, but now, with the trail going downhill, suddenly gravity was with me despite my flagging stamina.

A pair of shirtless male hikers came up behind me; catching sight of them in my peripheral vision, I saw red and bolted up the trail, stalwartly refusing to let them catch me. For a long time more, I had no sense of them again, having successfully left them in my dust, but soon the kilometres began to tell again and my speed faded. Suddenly, a mountain biker burst past me from behind, loudly and jubilantly praising me, “All the way from Robson Pass - atta girl!”

It was another hiker from Robson Pass, who had stayed with me there! (Mountain bikes are allowed up to Kinney Lake, where they must be chained up and stowed.) Energy filled me again; my smile came back and my toes bit back into the good trail dirt. Speed was again part of my name and I ate another kilometre until once again my energy began to flag. The trail curved, mocking me as it pretended to be almost done, then, low and behold, those same two damned shirtless day hikers abruptly almost passed me.

Ah, HELL NO. I bolted again - this time by running rather than going full steam ahead into my hiking gait - and suddenly it was there - the trailhead, no more than two hundred metres distant. I didn’t have the energy to keep running, but I managed a shambling hiking pace, desperate to stay ahead of my appointed enemies, the shirtless duo. In the last fifty metres, I found the strength to run and I loped raggedly across the finish line, the two posts which flanked the start of the trail to kiss the trailhead sign. DONE!

Limping the final few metres to my car, I drank yet more electrolytes and gratefully dropped my pack, exchanging my boots for my merciful sandals. After giving a trail report to a group of girls heading out on their own hike, I drove the single kilometre back to the Mount Robson Provincial Park visitor’s information centre where I reported my harlequin duck sightings. The guy manning the desk took one look at me and wryly said, “I’d offer you a chair but I don’t think you’d get back up.” He then referred me to the nearby cafe and I bought a victory shirt before following his advice, rewarding myself with a big cold waffle cone of icecream.

Then I drove to Jasper, and recuperated at Honeymoon Lake, which was gorgeous. The next day, I drove the entire Icefields Parkway, hiking the Valley of the Five Lakes, then Emerald Lake in Yoho National Park before driving back home. It was an exhausting but fabulous three days which I will remember proudly for a very long time!

Mount Robson Visitor’s Centre.

______________________________________________

Final Distance Hiked (in Robson): 49.2 km

Day Hike Distance: 9.9 km

Total Distance Hiked (with Valley of the Five Lakes & Emerald Lake): 59.1 km

Approximate Pack Weight: 36 lbs

Trek Location: Mount Robson Provincial Park, British Columbia, Canada.

Approximate Distance Driven: 1,266 km

Weather: Absolutely perfect bluebird weather with excellent trail conditions. Robson was never once hidden by cloud, which is saying something for a mountain which is tall enough to create its own weather patterns. (In 2004 when I went I only saw its peak once in four days. This time I saw its peak nearly constantly the whole trip. It was amazing and I was truly grateful for it!)

Favourite Piece of Gear: Mountain Hardwear Dynama Skirt (y’can’t imagine the ventilation and ease of living - pants and shorts are stupid now - plus the thing has wicked awesome pockets.)

Second Favourite Piece of Gear: Nuun Active Electrolytes (helped my exhausted body deal!)

Gear I Might Not Bring Next Time: pants, fleece (my Arc’teryx Atom LT makes bringing a fleece redundant,) and underwear (unless you are on your period or you have a big chest, underwear is not worth the extra chafing when backpacking. Go commando!)

Gear Which I Was Meh About: my Mountain Hardwear Ghost UL2 tent (loved the minute 2 pound weight, but the front entry was a bit annoying) and my Boreas Lost Coast 60 pack (but we’re still getting to know each other and my weight wasn’t dialed in.) My Oboz Bridger Mid Dry boots were about half a size too small by the end. Also decided that I’m not as fond as I thought I was of Backpacker’s Pantry Pad Thai, although it made an excellent breakfast on Day 1 for fueling me up all those switchbacks! (880 calories will do that.) In the future, I might just eat backpacker dinner chow for breakfast again; it seemed to work!

Gear That I Wished That I Had Had: Leukotape (I would have put it around my ankles to protect them from my boots and on my hips to protect those from my pack although they never actually blistered or anything,) and my right trekking pole. (I had to leave it at home because my physiotherapist told me the repetative movement would be bad for my injured but healing right wrist.)

Least Favourite Piece of Gear: Powerpond (never worked! Anybody want a powerpond? Might work with your phone.)

Stuff Which Surprised Me: My injured right arm handled the trail way better than my uninjured left arm. My right arm really wanted to handle the trekking pole, while my poor left arm got extremely sore and wanted nothing to do with it. On the hike out, I ended up shipping it in my pack and hiking without it; I prefer hiking downhill without brakes anyway. (Running is less painful than walking, y’know.) I was careful with my right arm, but in the end, it barely twinged the entire time, while my left arm was basically a crybaby. I believe there might be something funky going on with my collarbone on my left side, since my left arm didn’t like driving either and it kind of has a history of disliking pack straps. My mom has told me that I should visit a chiropractor for it; maybe this winter. (Still some big hikes left to go this summer!)

Stuff I Wish I’d Done Differently: Had I been able to, I would have booked a night at Emperor Falls on the way up. 23 kilometres up all that up felt like a bit much. I would have handled 16 kilometres that first day a lot better; 23 on the way down though was fine! (Once again, gravity was on my side!) I was actually offered a camp at Emperor on the way down at the visitor’s centre when I picked up my permit, but that sounded lame, and I was right. I also would have enjoyed another night at Robson Pass and going later in the season so that I could have day hiked to Snowbird Pass.

(And of course, Skydog came! He got a lot of really funny comments like “did he whine a lot last night?” “did he bark much?” and he really kept me company. When you’re hiking alone, you need something to hug, or at least, I do.)

All in all, a fabulous hike, and I am very proud of myself! Good job, Rosy!

#mount robson #the berg lake trail #berg lake #mount robson provincial park #british columbia #explore bc #hiking #backpacking #rosanna p brost #trekking #thruhiking #long distance hiking #robson #hike report

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duncanbarker-blog · 5 years ago

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We’ve been travelling the world full-time as digital nomads for nine years!

Our ninth year on the road was unusual—we spent the entire year in expensive countries and could afford to do so because we had a surprisingly extraordinary year for our business (more on that below).

We also spent much more time in the UK. We enjoyed seeing more of friends and family and having an easy base between European trips. Nine years of travel is tiring—pretty much every other nomad we know has now set up a home base—and we appreciated being in a place where we know how things work and found we could be more productive. Plus we got to explore more of our home country which really is a beautiful place (especially when the sun shines).

So do we have any plans to settle down? Nope. We are feeling tired right now after a busy two months and do need to slow down—in Year 9 we only spent more than one month in a place once (Austin for two months), which is unusual for us. But we still appreciate the freedom of this lifestyle and don’t want to be tied to one place between trips or have to bother with the hassles of setting up a home.

Year 9 was another fantastic year that took us to seven countries. While only one of them was new to us (Iceland), we visited two new states in the US (including Hawaii!) and enjoyed digging deeper into some of our favourite places in Italy. We also got out of our comfort zone with an unexpected long distance hike that turned out to be one of our favourite ever travel experiences (and in our own country too).

United Kingdom

Running the London Landmarks Half Marathon

In last year’s nomadiversary post I discussed our strangely enjoyable winter in the UK. In March we finished our time there with housesits in Stratford Upon Avon and London and I completed my training for my second half marathon.

Running the new London Landmarks Half Marathon was a fantastic experience. I loved running past the sights of London—both major and hidden—with lots of entertainment along the way. It was a treat to experience the city without any traffic as all the roads were closed for the race.

The benefit of being back in the UK was that my parents were able to join Simon as my cheering squad and due to the loops and switchbacks of the route, I saw them multiple times which helped keep me going and get a new PB (1:56:30). I also raised £1000 for the Alzheimer’s Society.

Going to the Theatre

Being in an English speaking country meant we had the opportunity to go to the theatre which isn’t something we often get to do. We saw the Duchess of Malfi in Stratford Upon Avon and Animal Farm later in the year in Brighton, but best of all was finally getting tickets for Harry Potter and Hamilton in London which were both brilliant! The trick we found to getting tickets was to check the website a few days before for last minute returns (they also have lotteries but we had no luck).

France

The Perfect Day in Paris

Cherry blossoms at Jardin des Plantes in Paris

In early April, after a wonderfully chocolate-filled Easter in London, we began our train trip to Italy, stopping as we always do in Paris.

We only had time for a day in the city, but we made the most of it with an epic 14-mile walk to classic sights and hidden gems that included our favourite croissants, beautiful parks, grandiose buildings, breaks for thick hot chocolate and macarons, and strolling along the Seine. It was an exhausting but perfect day. See our Paris in a day itinerary for details.

Italy

Bologna

The view of Bologna from Asinelli Tower

We never get enough of our beloved Italy and on our 12th trip there we began with a week in Bologna. It’s a beautiful, less touristy city with a rich food culture (balsamic vinegar, parmesan cheese and Parma ham all come from the region).

We did a fun food tour, climbed medieval towers, visited a traditional balsamic vinegar maker in nearby Modena, and ate a huge amount of fresh pasta and gelato. We have more tips in our best things to do in Bologna post.

A Month in Lecce

Our street in Lecce

On our previous two trips to Lecce, a small University city in Puglia, we’d commented on how liveable it felt and this time we finally returned for a full month.

We loved having time to get to know all the delicious restaurants and wander the gorgeous golden Baroque streets. The weather was perfect in April/early May and sitting outside with a glass of rose for a leisurely lunch was just wonderful.

We ate a lot in Lecce!

Road Tripping Around Puglia

Us in Otranto

From Lecce we rented a car for a two-week road trip up the length of Puglia to a mix of new destinations and old favourites.

We started with a few nights on an olive farm near Ostuni, Il Frantoio, which is our favourite place to stay in all of Italy. It’s rustic but stylish, full of character and history, and the meals are amazing—all made with produce and oil from the farm.

Masseria il Frantoio

We explored more of the Valle d’Itria from our next base in the off-the-beaten-track town of Ceglie Messapica before continuing up the coast to beautiful Polignano a Mare and the Gargano Peninsula.

Monopoli in Puglia

We’ve updated our Puglia guide with our new favourite places. We highly recommend this beautiful region of Italy.

A Month in Rome

At the Trevi Fountain

We’ve visited Rome many times before and it was just as glorious as we expected to have a full month living in our favourite neighbourhood Testaccio. We were a few minutes walk from the excellent Testaccio market as well as one of the best pizzerias in Rome (and we went there often!).

We spent our time seeking out unusual things to do in Rome to avoid the crowds which was surprisingly easy to do and even managed to have a Caravaggio painting to ourselves!

Another highlight was seeing a screening of the Gladiator film with a 200-piece live orchestra in the Circus Maximus, an ancient Roman chariot-racing stadium (Russell Crowe even made an appearance!).

View of Piazza Navona from the Eitch Borromini rooftop terrace bar

United Kingdom (Again)

A Hot Summer in Brighton

Brighton beach on a sunny day

Our focus for the summer was getting work done so we accepted a housesit in Brighton, an artsy beach town on the south coast of England. What we didn’t expect was that the UK would actually have a summer (and therefore distractions from work)!

It was the longest period of hot weather that we ever remember having in England and it was rather lovely. We enjoyed beach picnics and festivals with friends and even swam in the English Channel!

We were also in training so we did quite a few day hikes up at Devil’s Dyke and best of all, from the Seven Sisters to Eastbourne which is just gorgeous!

The Seven Sisters

Unfortunately, our housesit was interrupted as the sweet elderly dog we were looking after got sick and the owners decided to come home, so we moved on. It ended up being a more disruptive time than we needed and we were sad to leave our lovely dog and housesit behind.

Selling Our House

In the meantime, we sold our house in Manchester which we’ve been renting out since we left in 2010. Things were always going wrong with a 100+ year old house and it was a relief to finally rid ourselves of it. Surprisingly it sold very quickly and for over the asking price.

We’re now very grown up and have an investment portfolio of low-cost index funds for the proceeds (after reading Millionaire Expat by Andrew Hallam). We hadn’t thought about retirement before (because it certainly won’t look like the average retirement), but saving for our old age seems like a good idea and we’re now contributing to the fund regularly.

Friends and Family

A family reunion and birthday dinner

It was lovely to have so much time with friends and family in the UK this year. We were able to attend birthday parties and a family reunion that we’d usually miss, visit friends in Worthing, Bristol, London and Manchester, and Simon even recorded a song with his occasional band Velocitiger.

Hiking the Dales Way

Simon on the Dales Way

Doing a long distance hike was not on our radar until Simon’s stepmum walked the Dales Way and the idea stuck in our heads. While walking 80 miles over six days was definitely out of our comfort zone, it was made easier by a luggage transport service and the lovely B&Bs and pubs we stayed in along the way.

It ended up being a wonderfully relaxing week and a real highlight of the year. The Yorkshire Dales is a gorgeous part of the country and exploring on foot is the perfect way to experience a place that feels like you’ve stepped back in time.

At the end of the Dales Way in the Lake District

Iceland

Road Tripping Around Iceland

Kirkjufellsfoss waterfall

Iceland lived up to the hype! It’s a truly stunning country and we spent a fantastic 12 days road tripping to the less visited areas of the Snæfellsnes Peninsula and remote Westfjords.

September in Iceland was ideal as there were fewer crowds and no snow on the roads but some starting to appear on the mountains. We often had hidden waterfalls, hot springs, and dramatic beaches to ourselves.

See our Iceland itinerary for details of where we went.

On the huge and empty red sand beach in Iceland

Seeing the Northern Lights

The Northern Lights outside our cabin at Bjarkaholt in the Westfjords.

The highlight of our Iceland trip was seeing the northern lights for the first time. We didn’t even need to take a tour to see the magical light show—we just stepped outside our cabin in the Westfjords.

United Kingdom (Yet Again)

Cosy Life in a Welsh Village

The view from the top of Pen y Fan in the Brecon Beacons

As we discovered in the summer, it’s easier to be productive when you’re not also trying to get to know a new place and figure out what to eat and where to go for basic supplies. So in October we decided to rent a cottage in a tiny village in the Brecon Beacons. While we’d never visited that part of Wales before, being in the UK was easy and familiar.

We spent most of our time working by the fireplace and taking long walks along the canal, but we also took a few day trips to nearby Hay on Wye to browse its many bookshops and eat lunch in quirky cafes, and we climbed the Pen-Y-Fan mountain. We would love to return to explore more of the area (and maybe take a canal boat holiday!).

USA

Disney World

At Magic Kingdom!

Disney is Simon’s happy place so when we had the opportunity to visit for his birthday, of course, I couldn’t resist. We stayed onsite at a value resort for the first time and enjoyed the convenience of the free buses rather than driving ourselves.

As always we had a fun-filled week—see our favourite things to do at Disney World and our tips for visiting Disney on a budget.

Austin

Kayaking past downtown Austin on a sunny day in December

We really needed to settle down by this point, so we decided to spend two months in Austin, Texas because we have good friends there (Tom, Jenny and Abraham of Till the Money Runs Out) and we’d heard it’s a cool city. Our friends had a great Airbnb apartment we could rent in the quiet and attractive neighbourhood Hyde Park.

I haven’t written about Austin as we spent our time there more as locals than seeing the sights. Things we loved about the city: queso (oh my!), cheap margaritas, tacos, kayaking past downtown, running around Lady Bird Lake (10 miles of uninterrupted trail! I even managed a half marathon by myself), the ultra-comfortable Alamo Drafthouse cinemas, and Central Market supermarket (yay for bulk buy!).

I got to take a yoga class with the fabulous Adriene of Yoga with Adriene—as I do her videos every day it was amazing to practice with her in person.

Simon took part in his first ever poker game and won!

Mostly we loved Austin because we got to spend lots of time with our friends who made us feel so welcome. We spent Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas (we cooked Christmas lunch and made mince pies for the first time!) and New Year together and were even in town for the birth of their new baby.

Us with Jenny, Tom and Abraham at one of our Christmas events—the Luminations at the Wildflower Centre

Christmas was especially lovely as it’s always a difficult time for us to be away from home, but we did so many fun activities—buying our first tree in a decade (which Simon brought home on an electric scooter!), making tree ornaments and gingerbread houses and mulled wine, decorating cookies, wandering through various light trails, and seeing the Nutcracker ballet.

Texas winter weather is weird, though—close to freezing one day and 75ºF and sunny the next.

Us on our way to see The Nutcracker on a sunny day a few days before Christmas

Hawaii

Erin at Waianapanapa State Park on Maui

Our month in Hawaii was as glorious as we hoped! The scenery was stunning, the weather perfect (hot but not too hot—A/C wasn’t necessary), and most places we stayed had an ocean view which always makes me happy.

It was the most expensive trip we’ve ever done, but it was worth it. We enjoyed the tropical vibe but with all the comforts and conveniences of the US (although it was hard to believe we were still in the same country after a six-hour flight from LA!). ⠀

We focused on the islands of Kauai and Maui (with one night in Honolulu at the end) but already want to return to explore more of the islands.

Helicopter Trip over Kauai

The stunning Na Pali coast from a helicopter

The highlight of our time on Kauai was taking a doors off helicopter ride over this stunning island—we flew over waterfalls and through canyons and along the Na Pali Coast which has the most beautiful sea cliffs we’ve ever seen.

Whale Watching on Maui

Whale breaching in Maui on our Makai Adventures boat trip. Photo by Jill Niederberger as my camera broke a few days before.

Our favourite experience on Maui was seeing so many whales—on boat trips, from beaches, and even from our condo’s balcony. We saw them breaching, tail slapping, with babies, and even singing while we were snorkelling—magical! It really was a dream come true because we’ve wanted to see whales for ages but have never had any luck.

Hawaii in general was rich in sea life—we often saw turtles and seals sleeping on beaches and dolphins swam alongside our boat on Kauai. ⠀

Japan

Osaka

Us at Harukas 300 in Osaka

Back to one of our favourite countries, Japan! Honestly, chilly Osaka in February was a shock after warm and easy Hawaii, but we soon adjusted to the wonderful confusion that is Japan.

Highlights were visiting Harry Potter World at Universal Japan, the beautiful 360º view of the city from Harukas 300 observatory, the vibrant Dotonbori area, and eating our way around the city (so many fantastic vegetarian options!). I also bought a new camera—the Sony A7iii!

Harry Potter World!

Singapore

A Family Wedding

We took a week-long side trip from Japan to Singapore for Simon’s brother’s wedding and it was a wonderful day. It was great to catch up with family and we even dragged them to Universal Singapore for a fun day out (yes, we’ve been to lots of theme parks in the last few months!).

Japan (Again)

Finally, we’re back in Japan for a few months where we’ll be revisiting some of our favourite destinations as well as exploring new ones, experiencing the sakura (cherry blossom) season for the first time, and continuing to hunt down the best vegetarian eats.

Business Growth

In last year’s nomadiversary post I wrote about how we’d been experiencing a worrying decline in our blog traffic. It was a wake up call and we refocused our efforts on the blog—Simon finished the new website design and I learnt more about SEO in order to increase our Google traffic to the blog (which has always been our number one source of visitors).

I updated old posts and wrote new posts based on what people were actually searching for (rather than what I thought they might be interested in). The website Digital Nomad Wannabe and the KeySearch tool have been particularly helpful.

Well, the work paid off and our business has grown hugely over the last year. Traffic doubled in Year 9 with 1.7 million visitors to the blog and our income more than doubled. Our income is entirely passive (from affiliates, advertising, and our app and book), so if we take a few months off work, we continue to earn.

After many years of needing to balance inexpensive and expensive destinations, this has given us a lot of financial freedom and we’ve been able to visit wherever we wanted this year (without any press or sponsored trips).

In addition, it has enabled Simon to realise a dream and work on making an adventure game without worrying about money. He’s also had time for creating fantastic artwork on Instagram and venturing into video game streaming on Twitch.

Simon’s illustration of a pub in Brighton

It has been another fantastic year and we look forward to seeing what Year 10 (!) brings.

Thank you so much to everyone who has supported us this year by reading the blog, recommending it to friends, and buying our Trail Wallet app and The Carry On Traveller book.

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emileewilson · 7 years ago

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Japanese Dream

I will admit that I am not the best blogger. I originally began to write as a way of sharing information, but more importantly as we rewrite our memories we absorb more and therefore, remember.

Soon after I started this blog journey online, I became reliant on the images of the fast and furious pages of Instagram and the insta-contact to my followers. Here is the truth, It remains true to this day. I write for me. I continue this platform for anyone willing to read and who may be interested in similar things, but I am writing to remember and to hold onto this Japanese dream for as long as I can.

Konichiwa!

Now, let us get into it then. I recently traveled to the country of Japan, the land of the rising sun. It was my very first time in Asia and I must say that I was pleasantly surprised and veritably, I was impressed. Their cultural aura is very clean, organized, and considerate. The toilet system is impeccable and the bullet train, better known as the Shinkansen, is the epitome of The King Fisher bird and illustrates biomimicry at its finest. I was thrilled to be traveling over 300 km in an hour several times a day. I travelled three times farther in less time than I ever have on the 405 in Los Angeles. Opportunity costs less in Japan and that was my best realization.

Itinerary: 3 nights in Tokyo, 3 nights in Kyoto, 2 nights in the Japan Alps, and last night in Lake Kawaguchi to view Mt. Fuji.

They utilize space. They are not wasteful. They have water. My client told me recently she was shunned for crossing her legs on the subway because it takes up more room. You must sit up straight at all times and mind your manners. That is, unless you are elderly, disabled, pregnant or nursing. Then you get the first seats on the train, they are reserved just for you. The Japanese have rules and they are meant to be followed. Unlike New Yorkers, there isn’t much honking or crossing the street unless the walk sign is on.

So, where do I begin? How about with the 55,000 yen Sushi dinner? That would be about $510 USD. Don’t worry, it was well worth it. We were a little late for our reservation and it was only a 10 seat bar to start so it felt a bit like royalty to be the only couple served and then stared at while we ate. Every 7-10 minutes, we were given fresh, thoughtful, and creative dishes. Made by hand, one by one, several courses came throughout the night while we Mmm’d and Omm’d. The ocean chooses what you eat in Japan and she is very generous with her gifts. We humbly accepted all of them, except the Cuddle fish. Don’t eat the cuddle fish.

Going to a funky robot restaurant in the red light district of Shinjuku, walking through the Shibuya Crossing and shopping in Harajuku were all great expereinces in Tokyo. I have never seen so many people in there own head at one time. Nothing connected them except for the ground they were walking on. Each one of them on their phones, or following the path of least resistance, they were determined to get to where they were going. On occasion, we would see colleagues who knew each other exchange bows incessantly. I like the bowing. It reminded me of an evolved way of kissing the ground. How humble of them to show such respect in public. Bowing is acceptable, kissing not so much.

We took a walking tour of Ueno and saw our first temples tucked away in the old district. Shrines, Pagodas, and cemeteries proliferate the entire country. We went to the zoo and saw animals we had never seen before and then cooled off in the grand Tokyo National Museum and viewed historical prints, utensils, scrolls, swords, kimonos, and statues. We walked a lot on this particular day.

Onward to Kyoto, a smaller village South of Tokyo in the center of Japan. The poplulation here is 1.4 million, nothing compared to the nearly 14 million people in the Tokyo capital. We could feel the decrease in activity and it was nice to settle down a bit. Long days of walking lie ahead and in fact the first night in Kyoto, we overslep our nap and missed dinner. We poured wine at 11 pm when we woke up and ate Snickers and snacks among a few other treats we found stashed in our suitcases. The following morning, we took a day trip to Nara. This was a highlight for me as I got to mingle with about 1200 deer roaming free in the vast park. To witness deer up close is a gift in itself, but to also interact with them is an entirely sweet experience. You can purchase “biscuits” for them and trust me, they know why you are there. To feed them and then feed them again and again and again. I even saw deer bowing their heads for treats and can only imagine that after all these years of such close human interaction, they have been trained to take on this trait. Astounding. We saw one of the largest bronze Buddha statutes here and back in the village of Kyoto, we did some biking around the city and along the Path of Philosophy. It was here that my my gifted me with this vintage Kimono blouse that I will absolutely treasure forever.

My most memorable part of the entire trip was hiking the Japan Alps. We started at the Shinhotaka Ropeway in Takayama, Nagano. We landed in the snow and hiked to the top of the mountain. Then we made our way switchbacking down the other side through snow. Sometimes when it was too steep, we decided to slide, safely of course. Down, down, we went into the dangers of melting snow into rock and finally we made it to the bottom to a quaint basin village called Kamikochi. There wasn’t much to do there, but have a well deserved Kirin and smoked fish snacks.

Upon arrival by bus back at Shinsanzo, our traditional Japanese Inn called a Ryokan, we promptly undressed and melted into our privately reserved sulfur laden hot spring, known as an onsen. Our onsen was conveniently situated along the raging waters of the Hida river. My beloved and I truly felt like we had died and gone to Heaven. The landscape was surreal, the sound of tranquility abound, and I swear the leaves on the trees above me were flirting with us. We had incredible meals gracefully served to us that weekend and I finally feel confident about which slippers to wear indoors, outdoors, and in the detached bathroom. That is three kinds of slippers if you didn’t catch that. Oh, and they only have one size for everyone so if you have Flinstone feet like my Beloved, you may be subject to laughter with pointed fingers and an Iphone in the direction of your toes. Ah yes, this particular experience seemed to be the most authentic way of re-enacting the mountaineering Japanese life in the old country, when life was about resting in Earths hot waters, exploring upward, eating well, and making love.

I highly recommend touring this country. It was clean, efficient, kind, and there are so so many things to do. If in fact you are reading this now, chances are that I may have updated and edited this journal by now. Why? Because I want to remember each and every second of my adventures in Japan. What a beautiful and diverse world that we live in.

Last, but not least, I need to give an incredibly enourmous, reverential THANK YOU and ARIGATO to Mr. Shant Minas, my partner in crime, the man who took me on this pleasure filled vacation and satisfied my wild hearts desire. As the utterly intelligent geologist that he is, he took the land into his own hands while I followed his lead. He read maps (like a real man), asked for directions when needed (like a real man), hailed taxi cabs (like a real man), and carried my heavy luggage. (you know the saying by now) I am so grateful for his efforts, his patience, and his ability to stay with me for 24/7, 10 days in a row without pushing me in front of the bullet train. From the bottom of my heart, Shant Minas, you have enriched my life, inspired my soul, and I love you with all my Gypsy Heart.

Yours truly, The Gypsy Emilee

Shopping , fish markets, parks, temples, bike rides, Ryokans, Japan Alps, Onsens, Sushi, Sake, Geishas, Kabuki, Kirin, Fugi, Toto, bullet trains,

Shopping fish markets parks temples bike rides Ryokans Japan Alps Onsens Sushi Sake Geishas Kabuki Kirin Fugi Toto bullet trains

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