A Heartbeat at my Feet

I have decided for this post to diverge a bit from subject matter that I have been exploring thus far on here. However I am sure that most readers will agree that this particular topic is not entirely separate from the themes of nature and the outdoors that I have focused on. As I subtly attempted to reference with the Edith Wharton quote in the title, the topic is dogs.


A dog is a special animal. Though a breed like my pug Belle probably does not have any biological connection to a wolf, there is something wild and natural about any dog. There is nothing better than taking a dog out on an excursion and watching them explore. The emotional connection between man and dog is beyond ownership or friendship or mastery. It is unconditional love pure and simple. That love can be so deep that a dog becomes like a part of you, as if your souls have become attached.


This is belle helping me read.

The effect that a dog can have on a person's life is profound. Though we may not know it, the unconditional love that a dog can provide is beyond measure. When we feel the most alone or dejected in life, we can always turn to a dog for comfort and to help us carry onward.

I was inspired to write this post by a video that I found that shows the sort of effect that a dog can have on a person's life, and how hard it can be to watch them go. I will warn you all DO NOT WATCH unless you are ready to cry.

Last Minutes with ODEN from phos pictures on Vimeo.

If that doesn't tug on your heart I don't know what will. Thanks to Stevil at All Hail the Black Market for posting this a few days
ago.

The saddest part about a dog is that you are pretty much certain to outlive them. I remember burying my aunts beloved black lab Inkspot during a rainstorm. She couldn't even bear to come outside and help dig because she had lost one of her closest companions. With a dog, you are privileged in that you get to watch all of the best parts of a creatures life, but also cursed in that you have to bury a friend.

Sometimes the best companion we can bring with us on any sort of adventure in life stands few feet tall, is covered with hair, and will follow you wherever you go.

On top of "Cloud-Splitter"

As we move into the future it seems that there are less opportunities for us to disconnect and tune out. I know that personally I find myself becoming sucked out of the physical world an into the different screens that surround me more and more everyday. However, there is within all of us a basic animal need to be outside. Some of us heed this instinct more than others but anyone who can truly take a step outside of the world of cellphones, Facebook, E-mails and GPS and open up to the great stimuli that is nature. I recently did just this atop the tallest peak in all of New York State, Mount Marcy.



My dad and I drove up on a friday night after watching my high school play a football game. I slept most of the way since we took the RV but when I woke up in the morning we were at "The Crusher." From there we drove out to the Adirondack Mountain Club (ADK) Loj in Keene Valley. from the Loj parking lot we headed out onto the trail to Marcy Dam.

On the way we encountered a group of "J&S" hikers. A "J&S" hiker is someone who hikes in jeans and sneakers. I don't consider myself to be particularly snobbish about my gear but watching someone go out on the trail who is completely unprepared and using bad judgement just bugs me. These particular J&Sers were also demonstrating exactly why you should just wear boots when you hike. One woman walked off the trail the entire time because she didnt want to get her jeans muddy. Just because you CAN hike in running or tennis shoes does not mean you SHOULD. Ok enough ranting for now. The J&Sers will come up again shortly.

Oh, and the view from Marcy Dam was superb.


From the dam we continued along the Van Hoevenberg trail to ascend Mt. Marcy. The trail up Marcy is long, mostly gradual, and very worn down. I wont detail every inch of the trail because much of it was unremarkable. However there were some very cool sections like Indian Falls about 4.4 miles out from where we started at the Loj. We were able to walk out onto the rock that the falls tumbled over and were treated to a beautiful view of Algonquin, another of the 46 high peaks.



The trail meandered onward and other than the length, there was nothing about it that was particularly difficult. That is, until we suddenly started noticing people passing us on the way down who were bundled up and we could see frost on the trees ahead. We also saw this sign:


We could see the the frost covering the trees and the grass on the summit which loomed ahead. This section was icy and began to get dangerous because of the pitch. But we ascended without a problem and made it to the summit where we collapsed onto some larger rocks high-fiving and celebrating our feat. We also talked to the mountain steward who was there to make sure that people stayed off the alpine foliage that abounded at the top. This plaque stood as a marker for the summit:


Now I did say I would mention the S&J hikers again. They reached the summit about an hour and half after us and immediately sprawled out on the alpine grass. The steward was very nice to them in asking them to move off the grass and also to put leashes on the little dogs they had brought with them. It turns out they were French-speakers so this became a confusing situation. Some of them understood but one woman had no idea what was happening and refused to leave the grassy area. I guess you see all kinds when you are hiking the most popular mountain in the state.

The view from the top was cloudy at first but eventually opened up beautifully. We spent some time taking photos of the view and eating lunch among the giant peaks around us. Now I said that I disconnected completely from the world up here, however I had service for the first time all day and my phone was flooded with text messages. I also decided to see if facebook recognized where I was since you can "check-in" to places using mobile facebook, and so I just had to let the world know what I was doing. I guess its harder to disconnect than I thought.

We got some beautiful photos of the some of the other high peaks. Here is the Macintyre Range:



And the Great Range:


After taking in the view from all angles we decided it was time to go down. The hike out was the worst part since our legs and joints were hurting so badly. We trudged out, kicking rocks the whole way all the while feeling the afterglow that comes from a hard day of physical exertion. I realized from that hike just how nice life can be when you step out of the world of constant connection and stimulus and into the woods for a while.

Adirondack Canoe Classic Part 3: The Final Day

Day three of the ACC began with a warning.

"Mandatory Life-Jackets"

This was announced by way of a megaphone, then repeated in the whispers of the competitors who milled about in the staging area in Fish Creek Campground. Until this point life-vests did not have to be worn, just easily accessible in the event of a capsize. Our friends who were veterans of the race told us that this certainly not normal. It had happened before in prior runnings of the race when the wind had whipped the waterways into a churning, dangerous, mess. The part of Fish Creek Pond that we were launching from looked relatively calm, but racers around us could be overheard muttering things like "Just wait until we hit Upper Saranac. I bet its Hell." They were right.



After starting out in a mass group, we made our way out of the pond and under the Rt. 30 bridge. From there we made our way through a short channel and into a bay off of Upper Saranac. The first sign of the nastiness that loomed ahead came when we saw a few solo canoes and kayaks heading at us the wrong way. The next ominous sign was when we turned the corner and my dad's sunglasses flew off and into the water. Then we saw what was coming.

The scene in front of me conjured images from a war film where black clouds and devastation dominate a scene. Dark storm clouds clashed with the light, overcast grey of the sky and a brutal wind whipped at anything that was loose on the boat. The waves on Upper were massive for a lake like that. I would guess they reached 3 or 4 feet in height. We charged into them and just tried holding on while watching other racers capsize across the lake. For the so called "easiest day" of the race, we had our energy sucked from us during this section of the course faster any other part other than maybe Brown's Tract on day 1. The rain began just as we reached the first carry; called the Bartlett Carry.



During this carry we tried to eat, recharge, go to the bathroom, etc. Yet suddenly we found ourselves feeling a surreal sense of awareness of what we were doing and the immensity of our undertaking when we heard bagpipe music floating through the trees. On man in full regalia stood on the side of the carry and gave us a musical score to accompany our suffering. It was one of the more beautiful moments of the weekend.

From there we moved across Middle Saranac lake and into the Saranac River, then into lower and back into the Saranac river. This section of the course was very beautiful and features two short carries around old locks. The only bad part of this section was the rain and when I fell in the river while putting in after the second lock. Wet and holding a soggy PBJ in my lap, we continued on. We were drained and tired, but we knew that we only had Oseetah Lake, then Lake Flower to go until the finish.

Lake Flower was an amazing sight. Old camps and beautiful islands were everywhere as we snaked through buoys in place to avert boaters from rocky areas. We finally saw the finish in the distance and decided to finish strong. We sprinted with a boat that had come up behind us across the finish line and to the cheers of encouragement from the spectators who lined the beach. My mother greeted us with two beers and two big hugs. We had done it. After a total of around 21 hours we had finished. Even though we were sore and wet, we loved every second of the experience.

Adirondack Canoe Classic Part 2

Day two of the race was supposed to be "easier." I place that word in quotes because this, allegedly, easier second day was still incredibly difficult. After clocking in at around 8 hours and 30 minutes on day one, we hoped to be at least a half hour faster on the second day. The distance on the day was 30 miles, but with only one carry we knew that if we got into a rhythm we could improve. Day two did provide us with some beautiful views and some of the most fun sections of the race by far. The beautiful, winding Raquette River and the open water of Long Lake made this day go by much quicker.



Day two began at "Bissell's" on the south end of Long Lake. We launched from a beach and headed north up the lake. This section was unique because of the sheer distance that we had stretched out in front of us. Long Lake certainly lived up to it's name, it was the body of water that we spent the most time on during the entire race. We paddled in a pack under the Long Lake bridge to crowds of cheering family and pit crew members who snapped photos and yelled words of encouragement.



We stayed on long lake for a around 3 1/2 hours until we reached the mouth of the Raquette River. This long and constant section of lake also presented us with one of the challenges that racers have to face: how to go to the bathroom in the boat. Now it may sound gross but my friend who was a veteran of the 90 said that some people pee in the boat. My dad and I had decided ahead of time that we were in this to have fun so we could wait until we reached a section where we could get out onto dry land to go. However, this plan of action proved impossible when we were in the open water and surrounded by private camps. Eventually after some uncomfortable shifting on my seat, I informed my dad of the urgency of the situation. He threw me an empty Poland Springs jug with the top cut off that we were using as a bailing bucket and said "you're welcome." I immediately changed my mind and decided to hold it. Anyone who has ever struggled to pee at one of those troughs at a sporting event will relate to my reluctance in the face of relieving myself into a water bottle, in the middle of a lake, amidst hundreds of other watercraft. eventually we stopped and got out which also allowed us to shake out our sleeping legs.

From here we paddled up the Raquette a few miles until we reached the Raquette Falls carry. Half of a canoe hung from a post and warned against trying to run the falls. After a slow moving, single file carry through the woods, we reached the base of the falls and continued on. The rest of the day was spent winding through the clear, gorgeous waters of the Raquette. It's no wonder that Ralph Waldo Emerson and James Russell Lowell camped in the area to escape from society.



The day ended with us sprinting against another boat to the finish line at a public boat launch called "The Crusher." We were greeted with beers, chocolate milk, and pizza by our pit crew and friends who had finished before us. Day 2 was over after 7 hours and 57 seconds and we were feeling much better than the day before.

Adirondack Canoe Classic Part 1

Photo by Mark Kurtz

For years may dad had been dogged by his friend Dan Tickner, owner of Tickner's Canoe Outfitters, to participate in the Adirondack Canoe Classic or "The 90 Miler," which runs from Old Forge to Saranac Lake. This year he finally succeeded and we decided to enter. The experience was one of the most grueling, at times miserable, and difficult of my life, but I can't wait to do it again next year.

I drove up after class on Thursday, September 9th and met my dad at the Tickner's house in Old Forge. I was pretty nervous as I packed my pack with snacks and filled up my CamelBak because I had heard that the first day was insane.

The first day of the race began in Old Forge on Old Forge pond and finished in Blue Mt. Lake -a distance of 35 miles with 3.5 miles of portages.

The start of the race was packed with all of the racers getting prepared and adjusting the butt-padding taped to the stock seats of their canoes. It was apparent quickly that the preferred canoe of the 90 Miler participant was the We-No-Nah "Minnesota II". Others ranged from the bizarre and super-light , to truly heavy and inadequate aluminum canoes. Some also chose to race in single or double Kayaks, 3 or 4 man canoes, Guide Boats, and even War-Canoes. These all fit into 15 (+/- depending on the year) classes of boats, each with a separate 1st place winner and prize. We entered in the "Open-Touring" class, which was a non-competetive class and the largest.

We set out from Old Forge and travelled onto Old Forge Pond and out into the Fulton Chain of Lakes. We paddled at a brisk pace up through First through Fifth Lakes until we reached the town of Inlet and our first carry. Along the way we met a young couple who were doing the race for the first time. We would end up spending the rest of the race chatting and racing along side them. This is part of the joy of the 90. Though some people are racing for prize money and recognition, many of us were out there to complete the challenge and have fun. The solidarity between 250 boats worth of people trying to complete an intense endurance test like this is incredible.

After a short carry up rt. 28, we put in at Sixth Lake. From here it was a short paddle through Seventh and up to the second carry of the day at Eight lake campground. This was a longer carry and my mom drove in with Powerade and Cliff bars for us, as well as some encouraging words and moral support. We were feeling good, but we knew that the biggest test of the day was ahead.

After a brief trip across Eighth, we knew we had to endure the longest carry of the day ending at Brown's Tract. This is a roughly 3 mile section of river that winds in a serpentine fashion through a marshy area, switching back repeatedly and slowing down the pace. We had heard that this was the section that racers lost the race or even missed making the time cut-offs for the day.

Brown's Tract was difficult, however we worked together and made it through much quicker than we had expected; even passing a few other racers on the way. We could see the behemoth bulk of Blue Mountain rising into the grey sky, beckoning us to fight on through the growing pain in our arms and backsides. After going under the bridge that leads into town, we travelled out into Raquette Lake, then up into another river that finished with the final carry of the day.

Following the carry we put in at Utowana Lake, then paddled into Eagle Lake, then finally into the home stretch of Blue Mountain Lake. At this point I had gotten into a rhythm; switching sides after every 10 strokes to save energy and just because i was so sore. The temperature had also dropped and the wind had begun to whip the lake into a choppy mess. However the end was in front of us and we could see the crowd of those who had finished before us and two giant orange balls floating in the water to signify the finish. When we finished I sat down in the sand and sighed in relief. The hardest day was over.