A Look Back: Backpacking in Banff, the Prettiest Lake Ever, and the Town of Jasper, AB

In the last "A Look Back" Post, we'd survived an "encounter" with an elk and were on our way out of Jasper National Park and into Banff. We found, thanks to a friendly Parks Canada Ranger, an amazing backpacking route and stunning scenery.

Our destination in Banff National Park.

Instead of staying in another relatively tame campground, we opted to stop at the Columbia Icefield Visitors Centre to investigate overnight backcountry trips. It took us at least ten minutes to convince the friendly Parks Canada ranger of our desire to see the real Banff National Park and our willingness to walk more than one kilometer uphill. After he decided we were worthy of real advice, he pointed out Glacier Lake on a large map, describing views of one of the most beautiful, pristine spots within a day’s reach of the Icefields Parkway. More than convinced that this was our trip, we secured a backcountry camping permit and were on our way.

Two Sleeping Pads Face Off - Big Anges Air Core vs. Therm-A-Rest Trail Lite

Trail Lite (left) and Air Core + cat (for scaling)

With so many sleeping pads out there, it's tough to choose. It took me a good year before I decided to bother upgrading from my cheap solid foam pad (like this one), but boy am I glad I did! My first sleeping pad was the Therm-A-Rest Women's Trail Lite. For this review, I'm pitting it against the latest addition to my gear closet - the Big Agnes Insulated Air Core. Find out which one comes out on top! 

Does the Job - Therm-A-Rest Women's Trail Lite
I've had this pad for years; it was my first real backpacking sleeping pad. It's been used on everything from climbing trips to my living room floor for house guests. Unlike the Air Core, the Trail Lite is a women's specific pad. According to industry experts, women's specific pads are made with more insulation in the torso and foot area because that's where women get coldest. Though, having more insulation around your core seems like a good idea regardless of gender. I do still feel like I get cold sleeping on this pad, and feel like most of the heat I lose is through my hips.

The Trail Lite rolled up after a long, wet night!

The 28-ounce pad is 1.5" thick and 20"x66" when inflated; it's a little too short for my 68" tall frame. The pad is not available in different lengths, though other Therm-A-Rest pads are. When rolled for storage, the Trail Lite packs down to 5"x28". The Trail Lite easily straps to the outside of my pack, but rarely fits inside with my other gear. This isn't usually a problem unless it's raining. The Trail Lite isn't waterproof; while sleeping in a leaky tent, the pad got completely soaked. Keeping a sleeping bag dry is important, and this was a problem for me. The Z-Lite stayed dry in the same leaky tent, but isn't nearly insulated enough for me.

As far as inflation is concerned, the pad is supposed to be self-inflating and for the most part, it is. Over the years, it's worn out a bit and seems to take longer to inflate.

The Trail Lite retails for $64.95 on Backcountry.com. The pad comes with a stuff sack, but no patch kit.

Pwns the Job - Big Agnes Insulated Air Core Pad
This pad came to me thanks to a contest through Moosejaw on twitter. I've taken it out this spring in temperatures close to freezing and given to visiting friends to sleep on. The specs state that it's a three season pad with PrimaLoft insulation and should be comfortable down to 15ºF. I stayed warm on it in 35º-40º temperatures; I didn't feel heat loss through specific areas of my body. I could definitely have used a warmer sleeping bag that night, though!

All inflated and ready for a night in the woods!

The 26 ounce Air Core pad is 2.5" thick and 20"x78" when inflated. I love feeling like I have plenty of room at either end before my head and feet start dropping off the pad. It's also available in 66" (22 ounces) and 72" (24 ounces) lengths. The best part - it packs down to the size of a Nalgene bottle! It easily slipped into a pocket on my pack. The other best part - it's waterproof! Water beads up and slides off the pad. And one more best part - it comes with a patch kit that fits into a small pocket in the stuff sack.

The only real negative I've found is the inflation valve. It took me a few tries to get the valve completely open; it has two independently operating pieces to make sure it stays closed when inflated. It took a few minutes to inflate, and I found myself a little dizzy after 20 big breaths! But once it was inflated, it was a dream to sleep on.

The regular length Insulated Air Core retails for $69.95 on Backcountry.com and $79.95 on REI.com

The Bottom Line
There are a bunch of different sleeping pads out there all with different features. But as someone who gets cold easily, is taller than the average girl, and likes to save space, I've definitely got a favorite between these two. The Big Agnes Air Core Insulated Pad will be coming with me on my next trip for sure!

As a note, if you have an inflatable sleeping pad, take care to make sure you don't puncture it. Leaks can be a pain. Always carry a patch kit, and I always store the pad in the stuff sack to keep it safe. It's also important to store self-inflating pads with the valve open. This prevents the materials from compressing over time. 

Do you have a sleeping pad you recommend? Do you have experience with either of these pads? Tell me in the comments!

Trip Report: The Batona Trail and Wharton State Forest in Pictures

Our 15-mile loop in Wharton State Forest.

I went backpacking in New Jersey this weekend. Believe it or not, the same state that brought us The Jersey Shore TV show is also home to beautiful forests, meandering streams and plenty of opportunities to explore them. This weekend's adventure took Dan and I to the Wharton State Forest and a portion of the Batona Trail.

The Batona Trail, short for (BAck TO NAture), is a flat, meandering 49.5 mile hiking path winding through three New Jersey state forests. It was built in 1961 by the Philadelphia-based Back To Nature Hiking Club. Club President Morris Bardock collaborated with the Department of Conservation and Economic Development to build a trail connecting Brendan T. Byrne (formerly Lebanon) and Wharton State Forests.(Visit Wikipedia and NJPineBarrens.com for more history.)

With only two of us in one car on this trip, we didn't hike the trail end to end as a shuttle trip, but came up with a low key 15 mile loop, pictured above left. Our itinerary also involved an overnight at the only primitive campsite without any other registered campers!

Dan and I started from Batsto after picking up a camping permit for Lower Forge. They're required if you want to spend the night in a state forest. For two of us, the permit cost a whopping, bank-breaking $4! The forest sees numerous boy scout troops and other groups during warmer months, and we were told we'd picked a great time to come. Batona Camp, our original destination, had over 40 registered campers while Lower Forge didn't have any.

Dan at the Batsto Batona Trail sign.

The Batona Trail and most of the trails in Wharton State Forest are flat and easy, which was part of the appeal for this weekend! If you're looking for spectacular vistas and elevation change, this area isn't for you. But my goal was to drive less than an hour and spend the weekend walking around a beautiful place I'd never explored before. I wanted to stretch my legs, warm up for backpacking season, and just get out there!

Most of our hike looked like this!

The Pinelands are a pretty amazing place in general, another reason for our choice of trail this weekend. The area is nicknamed the Pine Barrens because of the barren soil; crops were difficult to grow there. The soil is so full of minerals, particularly iron ore, that some of the water appears rust colored. Though some will tell you the rivers run red with the blood of the Jersey Devil's victims! We escaped unscathed, thank goodness.

Red water near Quaker Bridge on the Batona Trail. (D. Herscovitch)

We reached Quaker Bridge around lunch time. I knew the trail would be flat and the scenery wouldn't change much, but it was still great to have a break from the sand and pine trees! We stopped for a snack, then continued on to Lower Forge Camp.

Happy after a snack at Quaker Bridge! (D. Herscovitch)

We arrived at Lower Forge after crisscrossing dirt roads and found the connector trail to Lower Forge Camp. Thankfully, no motor vehicles are allowed within 1/4 mile of camp. A group of boy scouts had stopped for lunch, but after they moved on, we had the entire giant site to ourselves! We'd talked about dropping our packs and hiking up to Batona Camp (six miles away) for fun, but we'd both tired of the flat trail and spent the afternoon relaxing at camp. One of my favorite things in the world is taking the tent out on my first trip of the season!

Evening descends on our camp at Lower Forge.

Dan got a great fire going after he took care to rake pine needles and other debris from around our little fire pit. The Pinelands are particularly susceptible to forest fires, and taking caution is important. We brought along some of my favorite backpacking foods, including a few Kielbasa sausages. Extra time at camp meant extra time to eat!

Dan's hands-free sausage roasting setup. Ingenious!

Thanks to REI's blog, we knew we were in for a treat that night - the largest full moon in 20 years! But I fell asleep long before the moon rose high enough for photos, and snapped this one of the Batsto River, which looked more like a swamp, at dusk.

Sun sets on the Batsto River.

We set out the next morning back down the Batona Trail from Lower Forge to Quaker Bridge. After crossing Quaker Bridge, we picked up a green blazed connector trail. Dan and I both decided green blazes should be prohibited on hiking trails in forests. And if they're allowed, they should be a different shade of green than the forest! As the trail wound through the woods, we came to an area with an above average collection of living underbrush. Most of the area was devoid of small plants and shrubs. It looked like the forest had burned and was beginning to recover.

Dan moving into a burned section of forest.

The green blazed connector trail led us to the Mullica River Trail, which would take us back to Batsto Village and our car. The yellow blazes were definitely easier to see than green!

Presenting... a brand new looking trail sign!

Most of the Mullica River Trail looked like the shot below...wide and a little boring! It was nice to walk side by side along the river, though. Normally, you'll spend miles just staring at the heels of your hiking companions! The highlight was passing Mullica River Camp and the canoe/kayak launches. The trail crosses over roads used by Jeep clubs and off road vehicles, and we ran into a long line of Jeeps not far from Batsto.

The very wide and flat Mullica River Trail.

We finally made it back to Batsto mid afternoon. The Historic Village is a neat place, and I'd highly recommend making it part of any Wharton State Forest trip. All in all, the trip was exactly what I expected. The trail was flat with little change in scenery, and I'm not sure I'd go back for another trip unless it was to hike the Batona Trail end to end!

Batsto Historic Village

What are some of your favorite easy, low key backpacking trips? Have you been on the Batona Trail? Tell me in the comments!

A Look Back: The Accidental Adirondack Ascent

Evening descends on Lake Colden.

The old adage says that hindsight is always 20/20, right? It's easy to look back and laugh and mishaps, but some part of you wishes you'd foreseen the result of your decisions and made slightly different ones. One of the most entertaining things about reading old trip reports is picking out all of the things I'd do differently, especially when trip partners make an easily avoidable mistake. 

This post is a journal excerpt from the summer of 2006. I'd just graduated from college and was in the midst of packing to move to Alaska. A last-minute decision took us up to the Adirondacks for a few days and led to one of the most entraining blunders I've made in my short outdoor career!

Dan and I spent this past Sunday through Wednesday in the High Peaks region of the Adirondacks thanks to my Uncle Bill, trip planner extraordinaire. Our mission was to visit Mount Colden via the Flowed Lands and do as much exploring as well wanted. Even with his route advice, I didn't feel as prepared going into the trip as I wanted to. (We left the hot cocoa behind - tragic!) Everything felt rushed, which could have had something to do with my college graduation last week. But I'm leaving for Alaska in two days, and couldn't bear the thought of doing so without one last Upstate New York hurrah.

Our little home the first night. The sun came up in the morning!

After taking off from Ithaca on Sunday, we zipped up north and arrived in Newcomb in good time. The High Peaks were as beautiful as they've ever been. The mountains were cloaked in green, life exploding everywhere I looked. Making good time meant we were on the trail early, which is always a good thing with an impending thunder storm headed your way. The only problem was, we were on the wrong trail.

We followed the driving directions to Upper Works Road, a lonely secondary road that takes hikers deep into the western High Peaks. Instead of following it to its terminus and parking there, we parked in another small lot just south of it and set off. I knew it wasn't the trail we wanted, (the blazes were yellow, our trail should have been blazed red), and I'm not sure why I just went with it, but I did.

Mother Nature dumped buckets of cold rain on us, I was soaked and grumpy, I can think of a million reasons why I didn't question our route decision. We knew we were supposed to go up, and we were going up. "So we're fine," I kept telling myself. The trail ascended gradually at first, then steepened significantly. We climbed up and up, crawling on hands and knees over giant rock piles, boulders, waterfalls and fallen trees. At one point, we stopped because I couldn't figure out where we were on the map. I handed it to Dan. He looked at it quizzically, flipped it around a few times, smiled and said, "I think I figured out where we are, and you're not going to like it."

Arriving at the Flowed Lands lean-to, finally!

I laughed the kind of laugh crazy people laugh. This was a ridiculously tough climb, we'd done it in the rain with all of our gear, and I was fucking exhausted. Whatever he was about to tell me, I wasn't ready to hear it. It was supposed to be a leisurely stroll to Calamity Brook where we'd set up the tent and wait out the storm. But no. On the first day of our trip, in a monsoon, we'd climbed, (1800' in 1.6 miles I'd later learned), up an unmaintained trail to the top of Mount Adams. At just over 3,500' tall, it's not even one of the 46ers. Dan figured out where we were because of the fire tower, indicated on the map by a teeny weeny triangle. The views from the top of were minimal, not that I was in any frame of mind to enjoy them. We sucked it up, climbed back down, and spent the night in a little shack on the trail that likely used to be outpost of some sort. Having a roof was a blessing; we decorated the shack with our wet gear and got set up without getting more soaked. Unfortunately, the air was wet enough that nothing dried.

Monday was better. We put on our wet clothes, hiked back to the car and drove to the right parking lot at the end of the road to our intended starting point. The steady uphill hike to Calamity Pond and the Flowed Lands was tough, my body protesting from the day before. We stomped through ankle deep puddles of mud and hopped along giant rocks. It was great fun, minus the growing blisters on my heels and the extra 30 pounds on my back. The Flowed Lands lean-to came into view mid afternoon at which point the decision was made to pack it in for the day. A park ranger stopped in for a visit that night and brought great advice for the next day.

A beautiful day on Lake Colden. Mt Colden in the background.

Tuesday involved a leisurely, pack-free lap around Lake Colden with me nursing my blistered feet. They'd grown to the size of silver dollars, and I was grateful for the fact that all we had to do Wednesday was get back to the car. On the drive home, I couldn't help thinking I'd held Dan back the entire trip. I was tired, sore, blistered, and battling the stress that comes with an impending 5,000 mile move. It wasn't the send-off I'd hoped for, but it was a send-off nonetheless. Adirondacks, please forgive me. I'll be back to do it right someday.

So we climbed the wrong mountain. Meh. I can laugh about it now, but you can bet I wasn't laughing about it then! It turns out the fire tower on top of Mount Adams is a pretty neat structure with a lot of history. I've been back to the Flowed Lands area since, but still haven't been to the top of Mt. Colden. Anyone want to do it with me?

Gear Review: LEKI Khumbu Aergon Trekking Poles

The poles and I out for a stroll on the AT this weekend.

My foray into the world of trekking poles was prompted by RMI Expeditions and the gear list I received for my Mount Rainier Summit for Someone climb last summer. I'd never used them before, nor considered them an essential piece of gear. Though I had trouble with the poles I chose initially, they became incredibly useful with a little help from one of our expert guides. I was glad to have them on the descent when my leg muscles started rebelling!

I chose LEKI after hearing and reading good things about the company. Of the four poles LEKI offers for mountain trekking, three are listed above $100. I wanted something reasonably priced, durable, easy to use and without the anti-shock feature. I find the noise created by anti-shock trekking poles nearly unbearable and invasive on the trail, like nails on a chalkboard.

Just by virtue of my price limitations and anti-anti-shock preference, I'd narrowed the field to three LEKI models - the Khumbu Aergon, Corklite Aergon, and Cressida Aergon. The Corkline Aergon grips were too stiff; I preferred the softer grips on the Khumbu Aergon. The Cressida Aergon only extend up to 125 cm (48"). Even though I'm 5'9" and the 48" extension would have been enough, I wanted flexibility in case the poles needed to become tent poles, or hold up tarps.

All three feature LEKI's Speedlock locking system, hailed as one of the strongest in the world. The levers are easy to use with gloves on, operating a bit like the quick release lever on bike tires. The Khumbu Aergon, though 3-4 oz. heavier than the other two pairs, were under the $100 mark, and that was the final piece that tipped the scale.

The poles and I made it on to the trail a few times before Rainier. The lower portion of the poles never seemed to stay locked, which surprised me after I'd read so much about how innovative the Speedlock system was. I'd put weight on them and feel the lower portion slide all the way up.

Locked vs unlocked, lower portion compressed.

Frustrated, I took them to Rainier anyway hoping to rent a pair if I couldn't get mine to work. Guide Carrie Parker told me it's a common issue with trekking poles in general. She helped me make them usable by extending the top portion as far as it would go, locking it, and leaving the bottom compressed. The top lock stayed put and I didn't have to worry about the lower one sliding around. It worked and they felt sturdy enough, but the poles lost 6-8" of length flexibility.

I'd never heard of, or read reviews from, anyone with that issue and of course, that makes me think it's got something to do with the user! I'm hoping I'll get them to stay locked with a little fiddling. I found the poles themselves a valuable addition to my collection of gear. I've taken them out once or twice since, and regretted leaving them at home for our Ricketts Glen adventure.They won't have a place on day hikes for me, but I expect they'll come with me on backpacking trips this summer.

The bottom line: The grips are comfortable, the poles are sturdy, and the Speedlock system is easy to use. For my height and purposes, they're still functional with the lower portion compressed, but of course ideally, the entire pole would function properly. All that being said, I'm not sure I'd buy these again. If anyone has any suggestions about how to get the lower lock to stay put, I'd love to hear them!

LEKI Khumbu Aergon poles and others available through Leki.com, Eastern Mountain Sports, and REI.

Adventure-Inspired Meets Backpacker Magazine!

Backpacker Magazine's January 2011 Issue.

One of my favorite things about Backpacker Magazine is the sense of community I get from the publication's website and the magazine itself. (The Twitter account doesn't hurt either!) It feels like it's written by my peers; I can identify with the voice, which isn't always the case in any realm of publications.

This might be due to the fact that readers have a significant voice in Backpacker's content, something I now know first-hand as a contributor to the January 2011 issue!

Most recently, I've also enjoyed perusing reader fall photo submissions online and wandering around in the Reader Trips section of the website. The website even has a community page where readers can post to forums on various topics. It feels like a discussion with my peers in print!

My contributions, p.84 and 86!

A few months ago, the folks at Backpacker posted a request for help identifying favorite local hikes across the country on their facebook page. The request showed up on my news feed, and I answered with a couple of Philadelphia-area gems I've written about on Adventure-Inspired before. Backpacker contacted me for additional information, which I gladly gave in the hope of helping readers in my region find places to explore. I found myself eager to receive the January 2011 Reader's Choice issue to see if anything I'd said was deemed worthy of publication.

As it turns out, some of it was! In the "Northeast" section of "America's Best Hikes" article, the technique we used to collect water on a rainy Devil's Path trip in the Catskills where running water sources are scarce made it on to page 84. I recommended Mt. Tammany in New Jersey as a great river view hike, mentioned on page 86, along with the Conestoga Trail in Pennsylvania. The best part was seeing my favorite hikes next to others in the region I'd never done before and testaments to their fun level from other hikers like me. Most of them will be on my to-do list without a doubt.

To the folks at Backpacker, thanks so much for giving your readers a voice! Pick up the January 2011 issue and use it to help you find great new places to explore in your area.

Train to Climb a Big Mountain...without a Big Mountain

Don't Feed Wildlife! (Even if it's Little.)

Ar Arctic Ground Squirrel poses in Denali.

I came across this article on twitter last night via @parkstraveler about the euthanization of yet another bear in Yellowstone National Park. She'd learned to associate the presence of people with the availability of food, and had become aggressive in her attempts to get it from them. This included venturing into a backcountry campsite and forcing a backpacker to give up his dinner. Five bears have been killed in Yellowstone this year, and the other most recent killing was through euthanization in June. It's depressing.


Those of us who enjoy the outdoors and wild places have a responsibility to protect them, and to leave them as we found them. This doesn't just mean avoiding tromping all over vegetation by venturing off established trails. It doesn't just mean disposing of the plastic water bottles or granola bar wrappers you use properly. It means having an inherent sense of respect for the outdoors, its inhabitants, and for others who revel in its beauty.

One of the best ways to see Denali National Park in the summer if you're short on time is through the Visitor Transportation System. There's one 92-mile road into Denali, only 15 miles of it are paved, and non-commercial vehicles are only allowed on the paved portion. The shuttle and tour busses, aside from human power, are your only option for park road travel. Tour bus drivers are certified driver-naturalists who can provide in-depth information about the park, its history, and its inhabitants.

With two full summers living in Denali, I had plenty of time to explore, but will never forget my first bus trip into the park. I was on a green shuttle bus bound for my first real Denali hike with new friend Emily. As the bus lurched forward and pulled on to the park road, one of the first things our driver made sure we knew was the importance of respecting wildlife. He told us he'd be glad to help us spot moose, bears, dall sheep, anything we could find, as long as we promised to be quiet, and to keep arms and cameras inside the bus. The wildlife, he told us, needed to be protected, and the best way to do that was to make sure our presence didn't affect them in any way. I was astounded that even an excited shout to other bus passengers could affect an animal.

Dall Sheep on the park road in autumn

One of the seven Leave No Trace principles is to respect wildlife. The article doesn't make it clear as to how the bear might have become so used to getting human food, but it's pretty unlikely visitors were hand-feeding her. Proper backcountry food storage and waste disposal are vital. Parks like Denali require all backcountry campers to carry food and other items that animals might mistake as food (toothpaste, deodorant, cough drops) in bear-resistant canisters. Campgrounds in Denali have bear-proof lockers and sheds for campers to store items in. It's as much for our own safety as it is for the animals.

We have to remember that we're visitors to their home, and approaching them for a better photo or a closer look can be incredibly stressful to them. If we're able to enjoy the outdoors without affecting its inhabitants, we'll all be much better off, and euthanized bear stories may be fewer and further between. The Leave No Trace website has some great resources on education and ways to minimize your impact on the outdoors, check 'em out!

"Excuses, Excuses!" and Turning 'em Around

Amy did it again. She wrote about something I've been ignoring and made me think. She called me out, saying everyone has excuses they use for not working out. And she's right, I sure do. After taking a good, hard look in the proverbial mirror, I've got a whopping list of them. But most importantly, Amy's got this crazy idea that having excuses, knowing them and knowing how to deal with them, can actually help us all get motivated. As it turns out, she's right.

So, here are my excuses, out for the world to see. To help me understand where they come from, I've organized them into categories and began trying to figure out what I've done to get rid of them, and what I still need to work on.

Getting up and getting out is fun, see??

My Excuses

1. I'm really tired from (a) being at work all day (b) staying up too late (c) yesterday's workout(s).
2. I can't imagine any activity that will actually keep my attention for more than 10 minutes.
3. I don't want to go by myself.
4. I don't want to go with other people.
5. It's going to be really hard and painful.
6. One day really doesn't make that big of a difference.
   
7. It's way too hot/cold/rainy/sunny outside and I'm going to be uncomfortable.
8. I ate too much and need to digest before I do anything.
9. I need to eat first, I don't have any energy.
10. I'm going to feel like I shouldn't be as tired as I am/breathing as hard as I am during the workout.
11. People will judge me based on how hard it looks like I'm working and they'll think I'm out of shape.
12. I won't be as good or as strong as everyone else or as strong as I think I should be.
13. I just don't feel like it.
14. I deserve a break/rest day.
15. I need to stop letting workouts take priority over my social life. My friends think I'm insane.
    

Worrying about what other people think - 4, 10, 11, 12, 15
To some degree, we all care about what other people think, and it's easy to get wrapped up in worrying about how we're perceived. I worry about looking out of shape because I think I'm supposed to be in shape. I worry about how I'll be judged if I'm huffing and puffing up a trail, even if I'm carrying 40 pounds of training weight. I worry I'll lose all of my social opportunities if I keep saying no to booze in favor of sweating for an hour in spin class.

But the reality is, I doubt everyone at the gym is looking at me and deciding whether I'm in shape or not. I doubt people notice whether I'm huffing or puffing up the trails, and even if they do, who cares? And won't I huff and puff less in the future if I train more? I've discovered if I surround myself with people who are passionate about their goals (these amazing ladies), it's easy to stop worrying about everyone else!

Wearing the lazypants - 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 13
The lazypants. I imagine them as a pair of old, torn, stained sweats. Maybe faded, ripped up, too-short jeans with a hole in the crotch. They're pants you put on when you're out of clean clothes, or when you don't expect to meet another living thing in the world.

The excuses that fall into this category show nothing more than a lack of motivation. If I'm motivated, I'll plan my day, including food, around what will help me get my workouts done. I'm really talented at talking myself out of things, and am working on learning to talk myself into things. I think, "it won't be that bad, and you'll feel SO much better if you just get up and go! It'll make the next session feel easier." And I'm usually right.

Glaring manifestations of fear - all of them, but especially 3, 4, 5, 13
Fear exists in the future and only applies to things that haven't happened yet. So what's the big deal? Fear might be based on past experience, but can also be based on nonsensical visions of what might happen. My list of excuses shows me I'm afraid of a lot, and some of my fears are entirely ungrounded and meaningless. They're also self-defeating; how is being afraid of pain at the gym going to prepare me for something like Rainier?

To cope with my fear of what people think, working out alone or in nonthreatening, familiar environments makes a huge difference. Being alone also gives me time to pay attention to my thoughts and redirect them if necessary. To cope with my fear of pain, I don't give myself time to think about it. To cope with feelings of inadequacy, I remind myself of the things I've accomplished and how hard I worked to get there. I remind myself that it's possible, and to cut myself a break.

Could actually be legit - 1, 14
...and then there are excuses that might actually be real reasons to take a day off. A huge part of training is building in rest and recovery periods. It's about listening to your body. It's about discerning between your muscles telling you they need a break and the lazy talk, or the fear. And those voices will sound different to everyone. I've found learning to know myself, my limits and how they evolve is essential. But if I'm thinking about allowing myself a rest day because I stayed up too late, well, that falls into the Lazypants category.

And as with any decision, I've got to accept the consequences.

* * * * * *

Amy, thank you for continuing to find ways to help me learn about myself! Check her out at http://www.expandoutdoors.com/

Trip Report: Devil's Path and Downpours

There's an amazing view out there somewhere!

Every time I get out my backpacking gear and make much-too-ambitious plans for a weekend outside, Mother Nature knows. And just to be sure I'm on my game, she'll throw everything she can at me just to see if I'm capable of actually enjoying myself while being completely soaked and fearful of being struck by lightening. After re-examining this past weekend's trip to Devil's Path in the Catskills, I'd give myself a C. I'd consider raising my grade to a B- based on my water collection methods. Maybe you should be the judge! 

This was my second trip to Devil's Path, the first being June of last year. Dan and I came up with a different plan this year, focused on gaining elevation with heavy packs, just because we like punishment! The plan was to spend all of Saturday hiking the eastern portion of Devil's Path from west to east, and get as far as we could before setting up camp, hopefully summitting Indian Head (3,573'), Twin (3,640'), and Sugarloaf (3,500'). The summit elevations can be deceiving - one look at the map, and it's obvious there's a significant amount of elevation to be gained en route to each peak, then lost prior to climbing up to the next. Hence the trail's well-deserved name!

on our way

We left Philadelphia early Saturday morning. The weather called for a 40% chance of rain and thunderstorms both days, and as soon as we stepped out of the car at the Prediger Road trail head, it started to pour. I was slightly disheartened, but not surprised. Hiking in the rain can be fun, especially if it's warm. We put on all of our rain gear and left the parking lot just after 10am. 

The air was completely saturated with moisture, and it appeared we were ascending through a cloud. Just before summitting Indian Head, we found a small overhanging cliff to have lunch under and get out of the rain. At this point, I'd gotten myself into a bit of a funk over the weather, how slippery the trail was, and was trying my best to snap out of it. We met two brothers about our age with their mother hiking for her birthday. That along with their beautiful dog lifted my spirits a bit. (Unfortunately, we met them again later; they'd turned around because the dog had a run-in with a porcupine.)

We summitted Indian Head just after 1pm, and pressed on to Jimmy Dolan Notch mid-afternoon. There, we decided to set up camp at a site we'd been to before. It's a bit off the beaten path, and it was just as amazing as we remembered!  I was a bit contrite about cutting out the rest of the hike, but it worked out just fine.

let there be fire! and water! 

We set up camp and Dan got to work trying to get a fire going, just to see if it was possible. The rain had momentarily stopped, but we were still in a cloud. We collected birch bark from a dead standing tree and crushed it up, hoping it would ignite. I lost count of the number of matches it took, but with an incredible amount of effort and attention, Dan got it lit and we kept it going all afternoon. By dinnertime, we'd built it up enough to shift our attention to cooking - a feat I'm still marveling at. Being able to start a fire when all the wood around you is soaked is difficult, but as we proved, not impossible!

Another challenge on Devil's Path is the availability of water. Streams are scarce, even when it's raining, which we handled on the 2009 trip by finding a small trickle of water and creating a puddle to pump water from. This time, the trickle wasn't there, even with all the rain. As we finished dinner, it started pouring again. I got one of my Nalgene bottles out and used it to collect rainwater from the tarp we'd hung over the tent. It was full in a matter of seconds and we pump filtered it into another reservoir. As the downpour abated, we had three liters of water collected. I felt a little sense of accomplishment, having made the best out of the rain and using it to our advantage.

...and thunder and lightening
After stashing our bear canister (a MUST if you're backcountry camping in the Catskills, Adirondacks, etc.), we settled in for the night. The rain continued to fall on and off, and I woke up around midnight to a loud crack of thunder in the distance. Wide-eyed, I watched flashes of lightening illuminate the tent at regular intervals. 

Thousands of years of evolution have programmed my brain, and all the little hairs on my arms, to be wary of being outdoors during a thunderstorm. Despite the fact that the storm sounded far off, the pounding rain and lightening flashes combined with that half-lucid dream-sleep state you're in when something wakes you in the middle of the night, I was scared. But we weren't up very high, we were in a thick grove of trees, and there were many things taller around us. The storm stayed at a distance, and we woke up the next morning to more fog, but no rain.

 me on top of Indian Head on the hike out

but we still had fun!
The hike out was both quick and enjoyable. The best part was discussing what we planned to order from Pancho Villa's Mexican Restaurant in Tannersville, NY. A stomach full of cheese and salsa is the best way to end a hike!

Activities like backpacking, mountaineering, etc. will, more often than not, force you to be outside when the weather's dreadful and all you want to do is give up and go home. But it's how we approach those situations that makes us stronger, and better equipped to handle the next challenge. This time, I didn't do too well; I let a lot of the little things get me down. But I did find that tackling projects, like collecting water and keeping the fire going, were wonderful distractions. And I'll take this experience and use it to help me adjust my attitude next time. What are some things you do to help snap yourself out of funks when things get rough?

 now that's one dirty Action Wipe!

26 Years of Evolution

evolve (v) - to come forth gradually into being; develop;undergo evolution

Today - I have existed on this planet for exactly 26 years.

Last year on this day - I was preparing for a joint birthday party with one of my good friends, which turned out to be one of the best-attended parties I've ever had, a testament to how amazing my friends are here. I was also packing for my first trip overseas ever. Destination: Dublin, Ireland.

 My best work buddies and I at my birthday party, January 2009

 
Two years ago - I was starting to adjust to life in Philadelphia and still trying to find places to play outside. I had just discovered TerraMar Adventures, a group that would soon become one of the most influential parts of my life in the big city. I didn't attend an event until about a month later, and it was an evening climbing event at Go Vertical.

S

Spending quality time with some of my best buddies at home, winter 2008

Three years ago - I was living in Anchorage and learning how to ski. Dan and I were packing for an overnight trip to Seward that weekend where we'd watch the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen over the harbor.

Outside of the Chugach National Forest in Alaska, winter 2007

Four years ago - I was just beginning my last semester at Cornell University. Having just returned from our annual swim team training trip to Hawaii, I was tan and exhausted! But I was so looking forward to enjoying my last semester of college to the absolute fullest. I had just started rock climbing.

One of my favorite walks at Cornell, right behind Mann Library, spring 2006

Although January 1st officially marks the start of every new year, I can't remember the last time I actually used that day to reflect on what had happened in my life over the past 365 days. Sure I'd watch the news and read about everything that happened in the world over the past year, but it wasn't until my birthday this year that I really stopped to think about what's happened to me, how my life has progressed, and how I've evolved (if at all!). When I think about how I've gotten from where I was even five years ago to where I am today, I'm shocked and amazed.

So, this past year has been pretty incredible. I thank my lucky stars for all of the opportunities I've had this year to develop as all around outdoorswoman, a climber, a TerraMar guide, in my career, and as a human being. I've been fortunate enough to have done some amazing things this past year.

• I resurrected this blog, prompting me to really think about how to share my thoughts meaningfully with others.
  
• I learned how to lead climb, and went on my first and second real outdoor climbing trips. I had to face fears I've previously ignored, but definitely still have work to do.
• I competed in my first, and then second bouldering competitions ever, and loved every minute of it! The support from other climbers and friends during those events still makes me smile.
• I went on two strenuous backpacking trips and learned great lessons about preparedness and group dynamics.
  
• I visited some of the most beautiful National Parks in the country, including Mount Rainier, Olympic, and Joshua Tree.
  
• I went ice climbing and summitted the second-highest ADK 46er in January...and have the video to prove it!
  
• I've accomplished a lot at work, and am enjoying my job and how it challenges me.

But more significant than the things I've done are the people I've done them with. None of the trips I've taken or the adventures I've had would be complete without having shared them with friends, new and old, and without the support of my family. I can't thank all of you enough for the gift of your presence in my life. From my fellow TerraMar guides to my three Philadelphia-based "adventure girls," and from my hometown buddies to the absolutely incredible group of people I've met on twitter, I think I might be the luckiest girl in the world.

And I do think I've done a good bit of evolving this year, mostly in my relationships with others and in learning new activities that test my mind, body and soul. I'm learning what makes me tick, what I'm passionate about, and how best to put that passion to good use. I am gradually coming into being, into my being. And whatever that final being may be, I thank all of you who've been a part of my evolution this year.

Trip Report: Delaware Water Gap Backpacking

I'm from upstate New York, lived in Alaska, and as a result, I've developed a general distaste for heat. I'm much more comfortable when it's chilly, and generally avoid any climate or activity that results in significant sweating if I can help it. Nevertheless, I spent this past weekend in unbearable heat and humidity backpacking around the Delaware Water Gap area of New Jersey.
 
A friend is training to hike the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim in a month, and asked if I'd accompany him and his dog on a high-mileage weekend. We kicked around a few options, and finally settled on combining day hikes we'd both done in the DWG. The initial thought was to climb Mt. Minsi on the PA side of the DWG, head back to the car, and drive a few miles into NJ to hike more and find a campsite. I would do Mt. Minsi without a pack, as I'm not training for anything, then put the pack on in NJ.

As it turned out, we opted to spend all of Saturday hiking in NJ, both with our packs. I jokingly told Josh I didn't want people we passed on the trail to think he was carrying all the gear while I just had a Camelback on! We started with a climb up Mt. Tammany, which requires a 1250' ascent in 1.5 miles. I definitely wouldn't recommend doing anything like that to start. Our muscles weren't warmed up, it was 90º and humid, and we were both exhausted after the ascent.

We descended down the back of Mt. Tammany and picked up the AT to Sunfish Pond, a beautiful little glacial oasis. It's quite acidic and can only support a few hearty species of fish and frogs. The hike to Sunfish Pond is 8 miles round-trip. By the time we arrived at our chosen off-trail campside, we were both very much ready to call it a day. We'd made it just over 11 miles. I'd been snacking on trail food all day, (trail mix, mini-Clif bars, cereal), and couldn't manage to find the energy to eat the rice and tuna I'd brought. The heat and humidity had sapped all of our energy.

After waking Sunday morning, we opted to hike the three miles out to the parking lot and head home. But not without a stop for pie and fresh local vegetables on the PA side! It was my first night in my new Big Agnes Emerald Mountain 3 tent, which is much too large for one person, but should be perfect for two with room. It was a cinch to set up, and looks pretty good in the woods (see right).


I was quite worried about dehydration and heat exhaustion the whole trip. I have an MSR Miniworks EX Microfilter (see left), and pumped water as frequently as I could into my 1.5L Camelback reservoir, but I couldn't seem to drink fast enough. There's always a danger of over-hydration as well. But it takes time for your body to get used to expending significant energy in an extremely hot environment, and we probably overdid it a bit the first day. I was a little dizzy at points, which is never a good sign. Lesson learned, though, and I'll take it a bit easier next time

Trip Report: Devil's Path in the Catskills

Beautiful Catskills and big backpacks.

The Devil’s Path trail in the Catskills is quite an undertaking in its entirety – 24.2 miles over six peaks following red blazes with over 18,000 feet of cumulative elevation gain. The terrain is typical of the northeast – extremely rocky at points, plenty of scrambling, and the occasional gothic-looking pine forest. I thoroughly enjoyed staring at mini-ecosystems exploding from fallen trees and keeping my eyes out for chimneys and escarpments that made me regret leaving my climbing shoes at home.

Our plan was to complete the eastern half of Devil’s Path Saturday using a base camp mid-trip, and head home Sunday. This itinerary meant summiting four peaks, five if both of Twin Mountain’s summits count, over 13 miles and 4,000’ of elevation gain.

Day 1: Friday, June 12
Our group arrived at the Devil’s Tombstone State Campground parking lot just after 4pm. We left my car there, and drove our second car to the Prediger Road trailhead. We set out on the trail around 4:30pm, a bit later than anticipated, for the Devil’s Kitchen lean-to or any established campsite we could find within 3-4 miles of our starting point.

Our little posse ended up summiting Indian Head (3,573’) 4 miles into the hike after unintentionally passing the lean-to. As with most other trips I’ve been on, things rarely go as planned, and we finally found flat land with an established site at the Jimmy Dolan Notch just before nightfall. We’d hiked 5.6 miles, a bit further than anticipated, and summited one of the four mountains we’d intended to do the next day. Water was extremely difficult to find along the way – we didn’t find a single source on the trail.

The site we stayed in was just south of the Notch on a blue blazed trail, which functioned as one of our bailout points on the hike. The site barely allowed room for our five tents, but was perfect considering the sun was rapidly setting. We took the Jimmy Dolan Notch north to find a cooking spot for the night, and discovered both a water source/puddle and a better campsite for the following night. 

Day 2: Saturday, June 13
We set out early from Jimmy Dolan Notch and summited Twin Mountain (3640’), Sugarloaf Mountain (3,800), and Plateau Mountain (3840’), a total overall elevation gain of just over 4,000’ between the ascents and descents. The weather was perfect, and the views from Twin Mountain were breathtaking. There was no view from Sugarloaf, and the only way to tell you’ve reached the summit is when you realized you’re starting the descent. The entire trail was engulfed in life – trees, moss, lichens, flowers – and was some of the most enjoyable hiking I’ve done.

In order to make sure everyone in the group didn’t overdo it, we ended up going much slower than I thought we would. It's absolutely necessary for any group leader to recognize when breaks are needed, even if the group doesn't want it. Between the frequent rest breaks and pace, by the time we all reached the end of the trail at the parking lot, where we’d left my car, it was nearly 6:30 pm. This left us less than two hours to shuttle all of us 13 miles back to the Prediger Road trailhead and ascend back up to the Notch and our campsite. Then it started to rain.

It always seems when it rains on a hike or a backpacking trip, it really rains. Perhaps it’s just my change in perception when I’m out in the woods, but it never seems to rain as hard at home as it does on the trails. The rain was relentless, turning the forest floor into a swamp and the trail into a series of waterfalls. The clouds and impending nightfall made some of the blue Jimmy Dolan Notch Trail blazes hard to see. Thank goodness the Catskills trails are notoriously well-marked.

We made it back to camp as night was descending, completely soaked. I was nervous – Dan and I were unable to find a suitable, affordable replacement for his leaky tent, the same tent that forced me into a friend’s tent in the Adirondacks and Dan sleeping in a 4” puddle. We’d taken precautions, which included putting a tarp under the tent to prevent water from leaking in through the floor, and a tarp over it to help with the leaky fly. Our makeshift groundsheet was a few inches smaller than the tent footprint, but we figured it would be enough. Wrong. Our strategies in the battle against the unrelenting downpour involved two main problems and solutions:

• Problem – the ground sheet was too small, and water was finding its way between the sheet and the tent floor. 
• Solution - placing rocks, sticks, sandals, anything we could find under the ground sheet to prop it up and keep the edges above the water.
• Problem – We’d placed the tent in a small depression, and water was collecting under the tent into a small lake.  
• Solution – digging a small trench around the tent to divert the water, and digging a second on the downward sloping side to allow water to drain out.

Our two solutions worked, and we stayed mostly dry the entire night. The tarp over the tent helped keep water off the fly, and between the trench and propping the edges of the groundsheet up, we kept the floor mostly dry.

Day 3: Sunday, June 14
We woke around 9am to one of the most wonderful, morale-building smells one can ever encounter on a camping trip – a campfire. One very talented member of the group managed to start a fire the next morning, despite how completely soaked everything was. Breakfast tasted like heaven, and the rain had stopped. We hiked two miles down the Jimmy Dolan Notch Trail to our cars, arriving in the parking lot just after 2pm. I discovered over 30 mosquito and black fly bites on my legs.

One of my favorite parts about backpacking trips is spending time in the small nearby towns. I’ll never forget sharing shots of whiskey with new friends at the Newcomb House deep in the Adirondacks last summer, or the incredible enchiladas verde I had at Pancho Villa’s in Tannersville that day.

Overall, despite a few hiccups, it was a great trip. It was (wonderfully) organized by the Philadelphia Hiking and Adventure meet-up group, which Dan and I joined to meet others in the Philly area to go on trips with. (Of course, my heart will always lie with TerraMar). It’ll likely be the last time I backpack with a meet-up group, and I’d much prefer a smaller crowd. Regardless, everyone brought something different to the trip - a unique personality, stories and experiences – that made the trip quite enjoyable.

Near-future adventures include more Delaware Water Gap hikes, an Adirondack canoe trip, and hopefully, the entirety of Devil’s Path. Stay tuned!

Balancing Act Afterthoughts

One of my twitter followers mentioned a dilemma she was having earlier this week about balancing her outdoor pursuits and passions with activities she and her friends enjoy. (Tweet link.) This is a topic I frequently think about and explore, but still haven't managed to find a perfect solution to. I wrote a little bit on the topic last month when faced both with choosing sets of people to do things with, and choosing activities. The comments I received on that post comforted me - a lot of us outdoorsy folks go through this, and we're all struggling to balance what can be defined as a "normal" life with our favorite activities.

But from what I remember, I had similar difficulties in college with varsity swimming. As a distance swimmer, I was required to attend 9 practices each week, sometimes 10, which put a significant damper on social activities. Most of us ignored our need for 8 hours of sleep to spend long nights holed up in the library studying, or long nights being young and silly. But as my high school coach told me, we had three options - swim hard, study hard, and party hard - and could only do two at a time with any success. I accepted the fact that I'd never be an Olympic-caliber swimmer, and tried to do all three with a focus on the first two. College was awesome.

Now that I've graduated and "grown up," I've found millions of other things to fill my time, specifically outdoor pursuits. Spending 20 hours a week doused in chlorine didn't give me nearly enough time to explore climbing, backpacking, and other passions in college. Now, I'm making up for lost time, and often find myself paying a small price socially.

I love my friends. I know some truly unique, remarkable people here. I've met most of them directly or indirectly through TerraMar, which means a lot of them share my passion for playing outside in some capacity. But we all have different priorities, and in an effort to explore my outdoor pursuits, I miss things. Friends go out without me, or don't invite me because they know I'll likely pass on a wild night out to rest up for the next day's activities, or a happy hour to hit the rock gym. This makes me sad. But if I forgo a night at the rock gym, or a few hours sleep the night before a trip, to have a blast with my friends, this can also make me a bit sad.

The reality it, us outdoorsy folks are not alone. Everyone has to choose between activities, friends, events, everything. Whether it's a climbing session, a photography class, a gym workout, a dance class, or catching up with one set of friends instead of another, all of us have to make these choices. Sometimes, it can be more important to have a martini with the girls then a night at the rock gym.

But what I've tried to accomplish is taking a look at the activities I choose to pursue in lieu of others, and look at what I've gained. I've had the opportunity to do some pretty cool stuff. And despite what I've missed, I've gained quite a bit. True I feel a pang of, "what about me?" when friends go out without me, but the real friends will still be there when I get back from the Adirondacks, the rock gym, and local bouldering spots. I appreciate each of them, their unique nuances, and the activities they do that make them who they are. We all appreciate each other for our passions, and keeping that in mind is difficult.

So, to all of you who have difficulty with this balance, don't lose sight of what's truly important to you, and recognize those special people in your life who will support you no matter where your activities take you.

Trip Report: Adirondack Backpacking

hiking in on the first day with very full packs! (D. Herscovitch)

This is the first of what I hope will be many trip reports from the Adirondacks! Our plan was to hike in from the John's Brook Lodge to a secluded backcountry camping spot on Friday. We would then climb Mt. Marcy on Saturday, just over 10 miles round trip. On Sunday, we would tackle Mt. Haystack and Basin Mt., then Saddleback Mt., a 12-mile grueling hike. Monday would be a leisurely hike out, and we would be back in Philly in time for dinner. Of course, nothing ever goes quite as planned.

Day 1, Friday, May 15th
The group was organized via a hiking group on meetup.com, the same group I hiked Glen Onoko Falls with earlier in the year. After spending an hour in standing traffic, we finally made it to the Mountaineer outfitting store around 4pm for bear canister rentals. One inexperienced group member brought more food than could fit in her canister, including delicious Trader Joe's corn puffs, so we all helped her eat the remainder on the hike in. No protests. We arrived at our predetermined backcountry campsite only to find John's Brook, which we had to cross to get there, was extremely high. We found a backup on the trail site of the brook and settled in to rest.

postholing down from Mt. Marcy.

Day 2, Saturday, May 16th

We woke early to an overcast sky, and packed up to leave for Mt. Marcy. The round trip hike would be 10 miles, almost 3,000 feet of elevation gain. Anyone who's ever been to the Adirondacks in the spring knows to expect very, very wet conditions, but what we did not expect to encounter was a significant amount of snow.

Halfway through the ascent, the trail turned into a running stream covered by undeterminable depths of snow and ice. We punched through the layers of snow frequently, every few steps, sometimes waist-deep, which made the going slow and difficult. We were unprepared for those trail conditions, and only half of the group had adequate rain gear. I made the conscious decision to leave my gaiters at home. Bad, bad decision. And then it started to pour.

The rain came down in sheets, petered off, then started up again. When we finally got to the summit, we'd been battling 50-60mph wind gusts, sleet and rain torrents along the last mile of rock-scrambling trail. Dan and Josh, our fearless trip leader, had to hold our first-time backpacker's hand during the last half mile. But we made it.

snapping a quick summit shot before the wind blew us off!

I stayed on the summit long enough for the picture, then scrambled down with two other members of our group. I made another bad decision - to leave my rain pants in the tent - and was paying dearly for it. It took us almost four hours to descend the five miles back to camp due to the trail conditions, and the rain worsened. Much to my dismay, Dan and I discovered our tent floor was no longer waterproof. I was snuggled up in my 0º down bag when I noticed the rain was coming into the tent from the floor, soaking my Thermarest.

Down bag + 30-40º nighttime temperatures + wet = potential hypothermia. Luckily, I was able to see refuge in another tent, a two person with two people already in it, while Dan roughed it out in ours. I still got wet in the other tent - a 12-hour torrential downpour will do that - but it was better than the alternative. Dan spent the night in a 4" puddle on a little Thermarest island.

snuggled in bed with a friend and Lake Placid Beer! (D Herscovitch

Day 3, Sunday, May 17th
After our bout with bad weather, trail conditions and the lack of preparedness for both, we decided to bag the remainder of the trip and hike out Sunday. The hike out was painless with decent weather, and four of us decided to find a cheap hotel near Lake Placid to make the most of our time off from work. 

We spent the night at the Ledge Rock at Whiteface. It was a fantastic find during a ski trip last March; the lodge has a game room, complete with an archaic collection of VHS movies, a fireplace, a pool table, and a BYOB bar. It was a great night, and we drove home refreshed the next day.

Lessons Learned:

• Prepare for Anything. I made a few stupid decisions on the Mt. Marcy hike, failing to anticipate changes in weather. When the temperature dropped and trail conditions worsened, I might've been in real danger of hypothermia.
• Be Patient. Even when there's someone in the group who is unprepared, inexperienced, and does not move at the speed of the rest of the group, that person still might have the same desire to explore the mountains as all of us do. As a group, we could have done a better job of helping her pack. Each one of us might be that person on our next adventure!
• Manage Your Reactions. I was quick to feel and act negatively as Mother Nature continued to throw us curveballs I need to make sure I recognize I cannot change how I feel about a situation, but can change how I react. I can allow myself to, for a second and only in my head, say, "This f*cking sucks!" And then I need to move on and remember how special being out in the wilderness is.

Despite the fact that the Adirondacks have hit me with rain or snow on nearly every trip, I can't wait to go back. My next trip will be to the Catskills for Devil's Path in June, then back to the Adirondacks for a canoe trip in August. I can't wait!