Posts Tagged ‘hiking’
Return Flight
It’s been a grand time at Barry and Carlos’ camp on Colcord Pond, but this morning we need to pack up and drive back to Boston to drop off the rented wildebeest and get to the airport for our flight home.
We made the best of our last full day at camp yesterday by hiking to the top of Bald Ledge, which overlooks the lake. Before heading out for the trek, Mike and I walked down to the water, where I snapped today’s featured photo. Soon after, I noticed our shadows and took a picture. Mike provided me with the classic bunny ears.
The trailhead is within walking distance of their cabin, allowing us to hike for about an hour to reach the summit at 1185 ft.
The sky changed from clear to cloudy several times during the hike and throughout the rest of the afternoon, casting shadows over the treetops covering the landscape all the way to the horizon. A clear overhead view of Colcord Pond is impossible to miss. It is an interesting contrast to the picture I took when standing on the shore just over an hour earlier.
It won’t be long until the color scheme changes from green to shades of orange, yellow, and red. The coming transition is already visible around the edges of the crowns of some of the trees. Down below the canopy, where the trail meanders over roots and rocks, the change doesn’t seem as imminent.
We sustained ourselves with a light lunch upon our return to the camp before taking a refreshing dip in the lake one last time. After a little siesta, the masters of food preparation rustled up a first-class spread of crackers, cheeses, spreads, olives, and salami, accompanied by some before-dinner beverages.
Neighbors John and Bethany joined us for a feast of grilled burgers, baked beans, and corn-on-the-cob. Laughter and lively stories flowed joyfully along before we entered into some friendly competition with playing cards.
Now we must stuff our suitcases and load the SUV to begin another day of travel. Look out, airport security, here we come. I can’t wait to receive my two cookies with a cup of water mid-flight. If there are no delays to mess up our plans, we will be having dinner with family to celebrate Cyndie’s mom’s birthday soon after we land.
It shouldn’t shock you to read that I am really looking forward to reaching our home again a few hours after that.
Massive beams of love to Barry and Carlos for allowing us to clutter up their living spaces and for their gracious hospitality to the nth degree in every aspect of our visit. Also, to Mike and Barb for being wonderful travel companions once again.
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Flowing Meltwaters
It would be remiss of me to leave out one of the rare shots of us soaking in Iceland. I found this image after yesterday’s post had already been published. Instead of adding it after the fact, this shot of three of us tubbing at our Blue View Cabin gets top billing today.
With our breakfast in the cabin, we listened to a replay of the debate between US presidential candidates that had happened at 1 a.m. our time. It was like dipping a toe back into the real world while we were on an adventure in Wonderland.
A quick 20-minute drive brought us to our first hike of the day to explore the falls at Bruarfoss.
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We chose the longer trek (4.4 miles out-and-back) that provided great views of a couple of smaller attractions on the way to the fascinating crevice in the middle of the brilliantly blue Brúará River, which is glacier melt from the Langjökull glacier.
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Our legs got a little break with a 45-minute drive to Thingvellir National Park, where we set off again to add more miles of hiking under very sunny skies.
One thing that still images cannot convey about the variety of waterfalls in Iceland is the majesty of the roar of massive quantities of flowing water endlessly cascading over and around breathtaking rock formations. They are right up there for stare-ability with flaming logs in an outdoor firepit. I could sit and watch the water for hours.
Happily, the four of us travelers turned out to have very similar satisfaction levels and found ourselves equally content to stay or move on with each new experience we encountered.
We were all pretty tickled to find our next overnight accommodations at Hotel Laxnes offered foldout balconies in our rooms.
This was the place with a pub that appealed to locals, a hot tub out back (which we quickly made use of), auto-scoring dart boards, and several game nooks.
We’ve already seen amazing things on this trip so far, but each new day continues to offer more and more. We are having the time of our lives.
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Glacier Hike
Day three had us headed back to the Vatnajökull Glacier again, this time on a tour where we could stand on it, touch it, and even drink from it. It was the second and last guided tour we purchased.
We were fitted for crampons and provided ice picks. While having us fill out our personal information, including any medical concerns they should know about, they offered to take photos of the groups. Even though none of our activities required specially trained responses, both tours we did gave every impression of being well-capable professional guiding companies.
They took our picture again.
We had just ridden in a bus to the point where we needed to start hiking. With a kick of her boot into the gravel, the guide demonstrated how the glacier pushes the rubble up in a ridge which then becomes a lake as the melting happens.
It was a significant hike with a fair amount of vertical gain to reach the ice.
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I looked up and had a flash vision of the photo of climbers waiting in queue to get to the summit of Everest.
Yes, there are a lot of tourists in Iceland. We were tourists, too, so it’s not that I could complain.
The glacier experience was powerful enough, nothing else mattered in the moment. Having this opportunity to step onto such a mass of ice when the drama of our warming planet is melting glaciers to oblivion felt emotionally heavy.
When we reached the gravel transition to gravel-covered ice that soon became just ice, we were given a quick lesson in securely strapping on crampons.
Soon, we were learning about glacier moulins where a weak spot in the ice becomes a pool that drains over time.
Our guide explained that melt water is safe to drink, but it “must be done” by a prone position with our hands on an ice axe. She positioned her axe and demonstrated the pushup position technique before giving us all a chance to try it.
It tasted awesome. She pointed out that the melt water lacks minerals that are contained in well water that has been filtered through the earth into underground aquifers.
Our guide parked us for a moment so she could check on a crevasse to ensure it was still safe enough for us to approach. The height we were allowed to climb on this finger of the glacier was limited to below where serious crevasses were forming.
She also allowed us to step over a deep moulin where, a day or two earlier, she had lost an ice axe. The handle was still visible a few feet down.
The ice scenery was something special to witness. Probably more so because the melting was so significant under the sunny sky this day. This was a privilege that won’t likely be available to future generations.
In 2024, walking on a glacier that is in the process of disappearing before our eyes is a unique experience. I’m really grateful to have had the opportunity.
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Hiking Afton
A hike in the woods along the scenic St. Croix River is always good for what ails, especially on an uncharacteristically summery day in the second half of October in the greater Twin Cities. Even better, doing it with precious friends and sharing a picnic lunch adds a magical essence of energizing endorphins.
We met Pam and John at Afton State Park early enough in the day that a second layer with long sleeves helped to tide us over until the heat of a summer day settled in. Pam and I first connected on a group trek in the Himalayas in 2009, the one that served as inspiration for me to start this blog. The mixture of terrain in the park and the marvelous conversations yesterday sparked remembrances for both of us of the weeks we shared over a decade ago in Nepal.
Driving to the Minnesota side of the St. Croix river from our house, I witnessed a phenomenon in the sky that was a first for me. High winds had pushed some clouds 90° from flat to straight up. On an otherwise unremarkable-weather morning, such an anomaly in the sky seemed incredibly remarkable to me.
I can only wonder what that would have been like for a small plane if one were in the vicinity.
My drive home included a different kind of excitement in the sky in the form of smoke. Actually, I smelled it before I saw it and the instant impression I had was alarm over the possibility of a brush fire on this hot and windy day with the extremely dry conditions our drought has caused.
I had just come through River Falls and finally spotting the thickness and depth of the smoke served to heighten my level of concern. Then I came upon a bright orange temporary road sign indicating a “prescribed burn” in progress.
“In these conditions?!!” I thought to myself.
Cyndie and I had traveled in separate cars as she had overnight plans with a friend in the Cities and drove west from Afton after our picnic and I returned home to take care of the horses and Delilah.
A short distance after the sign, my anxiousness dropped significantly at the sight of an incredible number of strategically parked vehicles and some big equipment, indicating this was not some short-sighted amateur operation. Still, it seemed to me like the weather conditions would have given them reason to pick another time for such a risky endeavor. I have no idea what the purpose was for the burn at that location.
Enquiring minds would like to know.
Good thing for me the residual endorphins from the good time hiking and picnicking in Afton State Park with John and Pam survived that brief, smoky disruption to my serenity on the drive home.
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Surprise Visit
It wasn’t until we were on the road yesterday, driving to Mound for a visit with Barb and Mike Wilkus, that I mentioned we would be in the vicinity of our horses. The plan was to go for a hike and then have lunch on their deck.
Mike offered to drive us all to do our hiking in nearby Carver Park. While navigating the back roads from their house to the park, we circled a roundabout that Cyndie recognized as being a short distance from where the horses now live. Since we were that close…
The herd was on the upper portion of their pasture and spotted us as we drove up. The only trick of greeting them inside the fence would be the need to manage several other horses in the group who were as curious about us, as we were eager to be with our three.
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Even though less experienced with horses, Barb and Mike met the challenge of occupying much of the attention from the others, while also taking photos for us, as we snuck in brief greetings with our old friends. Dezirea was less able to open much distance away from one possessive companion, so our time with her was even shorter than our moments with Hunter and Cayenne.
I was teary with emotion at the opportunity to share breaths again and give deep neck scratches like days gone by.
Having lunch and catching up with Barb and Mike was a wonderful treat, but my unexpected visit with our horses after such a long time since I’d last had that opportunity, …that really made my day.
It was a fresh reminder of how much I’ve missed them. Chickens don’t quite compare.
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Duly Moved
Last night I watched the award-winning documentary, “Free Solo“ about Alex Honnold’s epic climb of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. What a masterpiece of a film! I highly recommend it. I was duly moved by the intimate glimpse into Alex’s life, and the inclusion of the emotional challenges of those around him coping with the immensity of the monumental risk he was facing in his quest to climb that granite monolith without ropes.
Alex points out that any of us could die at any moment, whether doing something risky, or not. I tend to avoid things with a high risk of death whenever possible, but it is true that my life could end at any time. One way I interpret his thinking is to frame myself as “free soloing” all the time.
It made my walk with Delilah a little more exciting than normal after the movie.
She suffered a bit of a panic inside her overnight safe-space crate yesterday morning when a rowdy thunderstorm rumbled over top of us at oh-dark-thirty. I didn’t have much success trying to assure her we weren’t in jeopardy as I prepared to leave for work, which made it rather stressful for me to walk out the door and leave her alone until Maddie was due to show up an hour or two later.
I soothed myself by considering how she would greet me when I got home at the end of the day, as if clueless that anything out of the ordinary had happened earlier, which turned out to be true. She did.
We then made the rounds on the property, hiking the perimeter trails and surveying the results of the wild weather. There were 2.5 inches of rain in the gauge and the ground is fully saturated, but no new-fallen trees or limbs, thank goodness. That much rain, or more, is expected to fall before this weather event is done and gone.
We will carry on and survive to the best of our ability, even though I now have this new sense that I am doing it all without the benefit of any ropes.
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Coolish Fun
For a weekend at the lake, we are spending more time away from the water than in it. That hot summer sun is not so prominent and the temperature of the lake is a little chilly, inviting us to pursue alternative activities. Cyndie and I started with another exploratory trek through the forest across the road with Delilah.
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Julian brought up his Onewheel and provided Steve an introductory lesson on the basics of starting and stopping. No participants were injured in the exercise.
Julian and Allison also brought up custom-made cornhole boards that were a groomsman’s gift from a friend whose wedding Julian was in. With a fire in the firepit and pork chops on the grill, the bag toss game fit nicely as further entertainment up and out of the chilly lake.
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Several Adventures
The Gulf of Mexico
We walked the beach
and trails of Lovers Key State Park, where we also paused for a picnic lunch
While walking, we came upon an osprey dining on a fresh catch
Barb & Mike got a crash course on piloting a Segway (no crashing involved)
We toured the multi-million dollar neighborhoods of Naples
and I barely eked out a vague capture of the sunset for Steve R.
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Harsh Environment
It’s not always easy, carving out survival in all the crazy extremes of weather possible in the great outdoors. It may seem odd at first mention, but I think snow actually softens the blow of winter months, both figuratively and literally. We have received very little this year, and what did fall has mostly disappeared. After the rain and re-freeze, followed by a few days of melting, we settled into a pattern of cold that has created a particularly harsh environment outside.
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The ground is hard as rock and every other step is slippery from spots of ice.
Dezirea showed up with a bloody cut just under the joint of her cannon and pastern bones. If you look closely, there is a less obvious cut similarly located on her other front leg. I wondered if she maybe broke through some ice in the drainage rut that crosses the back pasture.
There isn’t any snow deep enough to have broken through a crust to get a cut like that.
Cyndie is up at the lake place for the weekend, so I sent her a text with the image. She asked if there was any blood on Hunter’s back hooves.
Hmm.
I hadn’t thought of that. Of course, there wasn’t.
Dezi was moving around just fine and didn’t seem any worse for the wear. There has been no further bleeding from the cut, so I am letting time do the natural healing it always provides, while also watching for any changes to the worse.
Delilah and I walked the pasture to look for any possible hazards or signs of a possible cause. Finding absolutely nothing, I’m beginning to think Cyndie may have identified the more likely culprit.
I sure hope Dezirea is dishing out as much as she is taking in the ongoing roughhousing happening among our three-horse herd.
Makes me miss Legacy that much more. Tomorrow is the first anniversary of his departure from this world. I’m definitely feeling it.
Toward the end of his life, Legacy’s poop took on a strikingly loose consistency. In an unsettlingly timed turn yesterday, while cleaning up after the horses in the paddock, I came upon a pile that was uncomfortably similar to what we used to see from the old herd leader.
Maybe the horses are feeling a little sick, too, over memories of what transpired a year ago on that oh-so-cold January thirteenth night.
A harsh environment, indeed.
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Mixed Tracks
The thing about aging, especially complaining about the less than glamorous aspects associated with it, is that there are always going to be people older than you for whom the whining will appear inconsequential.
“You think that’s bad, just wait until…”
We each have our moments in time. It’s natural to try comparing, but it’s also natural, to discount each other’s comparisons.
I used to be able to write my name in the snow when peeing. Now I just make Pollock style splatter painting designs.
At least I can still pee.
Speaking of tracks in the snow, I captured a cute combination of chicken traffic along with what I’m assuming were prints of a local prowling outdoor cat.
I’m not sure who was there first, but it is unlikely they were actually wandering around together.
If you pay close enough attention, you will see the tracks of the chickens are pointing in opposite directions.
I also think the paw print is a double exposure. It seems like too many toes, but I suspect it is a function of two feet being placed in the same spot.
Watching Delilah on walks, and often wanting to capture pictures of her paw prints, I have come to notice how often her back feet step in the same place as her front feet did. I think the cat was doing the same thing.
I am reminded of a snowy morning during my trek in Nepal when two of my travel mates were pestering the Sherpa guides to find us some tracks from an elusive snow leopard.
Eventually, (we think) they used the old trick of making some rather convincing prints in the snow with their own hands.
Everybody had a good laugh over it, although no admissions were ever offered, and a question over authenticity lingered unresolved. We were happy to imagine the excitement of what such evidence implied, if it had been real.
My mind has returned to my 2009 Himalayan trek because we watched a Netflix DVD last night called, “The Himalayas,” which dramatically told the story of South Korean climber, Um Hong-Gil, leading an expedition in 2005 to attempt recovering the bodies of three friends who died there a year earlier.
I find such expedition movies fun for the brief few minute glimpses they almost always include of the flight to Lukla, the swinging bridges, the rocky trails through rhododendron trees, the shrines, prayer flags, and initial views of Everest that are all the very places I walked.
Even though we weren’t on a mountain climbing expedition, those who were, traveled the same route we did, to get where they were going.
We all made mixed tracks in the snow on the trails.
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Relative Something 