Hiking Scared: Slide Mountain

Ok, I wasn't scared, but hiking anxious didn't have the same ring.  As a rule of thumb hiking alone in wilderness areas isn't the greatest of ideas, there's no cell reception most of the time, no one to help in case of an accident, and the trails are scarcely traveled so no one will come across you for some time if you get injured.  On those marvelous notes, I decided to solo climb the highest mountain in the Catskills since Brian was working, Allie was sick, and I had the day off.  I've been so antsy to get outside I've been writing trip reports from old ADK hikes.  I got up a little behind schedule and was totally misty eyed for some reason; I'm normally pretty quick to shake off the morning dust.  I left in a hurry and forgot, well, everything.  I left the memory card for my camera, my phone charger, the directions and right about everything else of use.  I chose the Catskills because I wanted a short hike outside of the Adirondacks where I only hike with my Bears, unfortunately this meant I had no idea where I was going.  After taking the super long route through some beautiful mountain towns, I arrived at the Slide Mountain trailhead.

Slide is 4,180 feet tall, small by Adirondack standards, but it is actually the tallest mountain in the Appalachians between Virginia and Vermont.  The hike was supposed to be quick (5.4 miles roundtrip), fun, and easy, instead it was continuously unnerving.  Literally 20 feet into the trail I was confronted by a creek turned river due to the snow melt and rain.  I wanted to turn back, I wanted to find a bar and call it a day after a frustrating ride, but instead I waded through ice cold waist deep water and crossed onto the trail; I was instantly miserable.  My brand new Merrell Norsehound hiking boots were rendered worthless after the soaking, even after I dumped a pint of water out of each of them with frigid fingers.  Since it was my first solo hike I kept feeling like someone was behind me, a crazed hillbilly or a Lord of the Rings monster, but that feeling faded pretty fast.  I started to enjoy the hike quite a bit until I realized I forgot my memory card for my camera.  I didn't think of it much until the most cool/terrifying moment of the day.  I saw I was the only one on the mountain when I signed the hikers log, and could see the tracks from the sole hiker the day before.  When I got 2/3 of the way up I noticed the biggest paw prints I had ever seen, then quickly realized they abruptly started and stopped after 20 feet.  Bear!  I took a quick peak around me and bolted.  After coming to my senses I realized the print was melting with the snow around it, so it must of been a bit old, but nonetheless frightening and exhilarating all at once.

I reached the summit where I had no views as the day was cloudy with a winery mix.  I wanted to make good time back so I hustled quite a bit.  When I got back to the aforementioned creek, it had turned into a torrent of rapids.  There was 20 feet of water between me and my Jeep, and did I mention I cant swim?  This was probably the most freighting point of the day.  I knew I couldn't wait it out; the temperature was dropping and I was already soaked and freezing, so I bushwhacked about a quarter mile upstream until I found a narrow enough section to leap rock to rock all the way across.  It didn't work quite as planned when my last leap came up short and soaked me further, no matter, the Jeep was in sight.  After sitting in the warming car for a while I got a whole new appreciation for my hiking buddies, even if it was just to share the pain with.  I have more solo hikes planned, but it's nothing like when I have the crew.

Note the trail marker on the right and Jeep in the background.

The Adirondack Lower Great Range

Peaks: Sawteeth, Gothics, Upper Wolfjaw, Lower Wolfjaw and Armstrong
Distance: ~20 miles
Trail Map


Peak bagging: [peek bag-ing] verb; An activity where hikers summit multiple mountains in a single hike or overtime.
Peak bagger: [peek bag-gur] noun; One who engages in the act of peak bagging.

The ADK Great Range is so great in size (pun intended) that it can only be hiked in two separate trips.  The Upper Great Range contains a staggering five mountains in the chain, which can be summited on a twenty mile loop.  Me and the crew made the fateful decision to combine this hike with two more twenty mile loops over a period of three days, but more on that disastrous plot when I get to the Nippletop trip.  We took off from Johns Brooke Lodge off route 73.  The area is a bit bizarre to me because it houses the Ausable Club, a private organization of people who do.....well I don't think anyone knows but them.  However, you have to hike through their golf course, tennis courts, "clubhouse" (read mansion), and then down a private road (to another "clubhouse") before finally reaching the Arnold Weld Trail.  It all strikes me as a bit much for being nestlesd in the wilderness, but I digress.

The hike up the Weld Trail is as beautiful as it is brutal.  One of us had to use natures restroom, ran up ahead, then yelled "holy crap!"and sent the other two of us into a panic.  No, it wasn't a bear, just the first glimpses of the beautiful Rainbow Falls.  The waterfall was the last pleasurable part of the hike for a while.  The hike then turned into the most brutal one I've ever taken.  The grade of the trail was so steep that as some points we had to bear crawl up some of the exposed sections of rock.  With our thighs burning and sweat stinging our eyes we reached the first target of the day, Sawteeth.  It's a partially wooded summit so views were only mildly impressive, but it felt good to conquer our first target.

The decent to the col between Sawteeth and Gothics went quick, far quicker than actually getting to Gothics.  Gothics is the 8th tallest and most stunning mountain in the Adirondacks due to its large rockslide that gives it a gothic appearance.  It also has quite the ridge line too, with several false summits.  Since Gothics was Brian's and my 17th peak in the ADKs we continually yelled "17!", until we realized it was just another faux summit.  Around the third time around, we were finally there!  Gothics has 360 degree views that make you want to stay all day, but we had to get to Armstrong, number three for the day.  To tell you the truth, Armstrong is the least memorable mountain I've ever climbed, so much so I can't remember why it was so uninteresting, and with no photo evidence I would guess I dreamed the whole thing if I didn't need to climb it to get to the last two mountains.

Courtesy of Allie

Upper Wolfjaw was next on the list and by then it was break time.  After fighting the urge to sleep we took off for the last peak, Lower Wolfjaw, the lowest and most insect covered of the day.  We took in the limited views for a brief second while swatting at the late season Black Flies and were off again.  By the time we were closing in on the end of the loop we began to run out of water.  By the time we reached the end of the loop we looked like were in the backcountry for days and were ready for a beer....or 6.  It was a successful trip; 5 mountains, 20 miles, and many thousands of vertical feet gained in elevation, but the mountains demanded a sacrifice that was payed the very next day when we tried to repeat this task on another range, that's another story though.

Around the World on a Greyhound Bus

The circumference of the Earth is 24,901 miles.  According to my Greyhound Road Rewards (the frequent flyer equivalent for us Greyhounders), I've made 92 one way trips between Syracuse and New York City, 25,116 miles in 460 hours; take that Earth!  That's not counting the dozens of trips I've taken but forgot to sign into Road Rewards, nor the times I took Megabus (forgive me Greyhound).  All in all, I'm probably halfway to going around the world again.  And folks, when you spend that much time on a bus you see some things.

I've been on buses with no AC in August and others that had no heat in January; I've seen the soft orange glow of flames coming from the engine illuminate the walls of the Port Authority bus station as the bus belched thick smoke into the night air; I've fallen asleep on beautiful strangers who were too kind to wake me, and I have been fallen asleep on by more obese men to count; I've made friends with a Canadian mother taking the treacherous 12 hour ride from NY to Toronto to see her daughter for Xmas.  Another time I made a friend from Kentucky who offered to drive a complete stranger, dressed like AC/DC guitarist Angus Young, two hours out his way because they had missed their bus.  I've caught glimpses of Rhiana and Lady Gaga in Times Square while waiting for the bus to depart;  I've been hit on by homeless men, women, and cross-dressers; I've seen a driver jokingly state that our "coach" (never a bus) was heading express to Miami Beach and sent a Serbian couple into a panic.  I know the exact point to look right in the Delaware Water Gap and catch a glimpse of the Appalachian Trail, and the exact points to look up and catch the first views of Syracuse or the Manhattan Skyline.  I've devised ways to make sure I am the last person on the bus you would ever want to sit with, and also ways to not smell like the distinct funk the busses have when I get off.

I feel like the experience has made me tougher, my tolerance for aggravation has had to go up quite a bit in order to deal.  With grad school coming to an end though, so will my weekly trips to and fro; yippie!!!!  From there on out I'll ride when I need a lift to a trailhead someplace, but until then I have a few more months of the circus which is Greyhound, a circus I appreciate very much.  So I leave you with the words of my favorite driver:

"I hope you enjoyed the ride and have a pleasant day.  Remember to cover your mouth if you need to cough; no one wants your germs. Take care and God to bless."

A Critique of Progress

One of my favorite places to run, walk, and bike is alongside the Old Erie Canal Trail.  The Erie Canal was built nearly two hundred years ago in 1825 in order to connect the entierty of NY state with a more rapid form of transportation.  Long ago, for all the obvious reasons, it began to fall into disuse and eventually paved over, filled in, or has become overgrown.  For those of us lucky enough to live near one of the few restored sections, the canal presents an oppurtunity for tranquility right in our backyards.

Unfortunately, the area where I live has decided to go the way of suburban sprawl; every road with a double-solid line has turned into a grease strip with the typical big box corporations, fastfood chains, and low-wage retailers.  The area surrounding the canal, which avoided "development" for some time, served as a hunting ground and kyack launch point for local residents until it was flattened last month, mostly to make way for another big box retailer.  The worst part is that just a 1/5 of a mile from the recently razed land is a collection of empty buildings from the last round of failed businesses, including a giant vacant space from the last big box that came and went.  All this for the 8th, seriously 8th grocery store in a 3 mile radius?  And the tragic irony of course (if I may put my poli sci degree to use) is that the jobs created will in all likelihood pay so low that the workers of these firms will end up near or below poverty, putting them on a series of welfare programs that divert funds from higher paying forms of investment (healthcare, infrastructure, etc), but that's another story.

I don't really consider the above progress; I don't know how destroying the natural world to create a human world that sucks could ever be seen that way.  I grew up pretty poor so I recognize another form of progress.  My mother is progress, doing what she had to do to raise a family up and out of poverty.  My grandmother is progress, a second generation Italian immigrant who sacrificed her golden years to get her grandson into the right schools and be the first one with a college degree in his hands.  That's the type of progress seldom achieved, yet rarely recognized, even though I think taking kids from housing projects to college would have a better effect on the economy than another clothing store.  Until we realize that I'll keep fighting the bulldozers that I can hear just in the distance from the canal, while being thankful for the real sources of progress in my own life:

Wasn't I adorable?! So 90's!

Carolina Road Trip

This was a big traveling year for me.  First, Colorado (Yes, I finally finished that post!) and truth be told, I had never been to the ocean in the Souther half of the US until last week. I've chased Sea Gulls on Long Island and splashed in the sea in Jamaica many years ago, but that's about it.  If you know anything about me then this probably isn't too surprising since I can't swim...well, I can doggy paddle if that counts.  I didn't really know what to expect, but Eva would always talk with such nostalgia about her family trips to N. Carolina that I was excited for the trip.  We decided to drive to save money: big mistake.  We left at 7pm with Eva's brother and his girlfriend so we could arrive at about 7am the next day.  I took the first half of the trip since I had just got back from NYC earlier that day and proceeded to spend the rest of the day sleeping.  Little did I know that I volunteered to drive through the remnants of a friggin tropical storm.  Torrential downpours slammed us from Pennsylvania to Virginia, with yours truly behind the wheel.

When we finally arrived it was wonderful to see the ocean, but after a 12 hour car ride I was ready to hit the bar, yes, at 7am (I was on vacation so stop judging me!).  We were the first ones there (go figure) and had our first tropical drink, a Sangrimosa that tasted as good as it sounded.  Eva's family slowly trickled in and out of the gorgeous beach house we were staying in and we had some of the best laughs I've had in a while.  Eva's grandparents, both flirting with 90, are some of the most lively and adorable people you will ever meet.

Throughout the trip I would periodically have to disappear to prepare for presentations and papers, but that gave me time to wander the beach when I needed breaks.  I got my first peek at ocean birds; I want a Pelican so bad!!!  The town was quiet given the time of year, but I've always found something romantic about wandering through picturesque scenes alone with my thoughts.  The boardwalk was lined with palm trees and the air was slightly salty; it was definitely a change from the mountains a few weeks earlier.

Eva and I were the first ones in the Ocean, other than when I threw her mom in fully clothed.  I experienced rip tides for the first time and decided I best go no deeper than waist deep.  I also experienced how deceptive distance is when I wanted to walk to the pier.  It looked like a 10-15 minute walk at most.  A half hour later we finally reached it, but not after seeing a dozen roses scattered on the beach and contemplated the grand romantic gesture that may have ended in tragedy.  Hopefully it was just an art project.

As wonderful as the ocean was, I found my beach reading material to stand out quite a bit when I whipped out the latest issue of Backpacker magazine.  Nothing could have beat the serenity of the Ocean in that instant though.  Unfortunately serenity was smashed to bits during the drive back, another mind-numbing 12 hour, 742 mile car ride.  I got a whole 5 hours of sleep before it was time for a 5 hour bus ride to NYC for class, just for another 5 hours back shortly after midnight.  Thats 1,300 miles and 22 hours of driving in 48 hours.  My mind has never throbbed so much.  I think I need a vacation...

Rocky Mountain High - Grays, Torreys, and Lumpy Ridge

I know this trip was a while back, but since I wasn't blogging at the time and this is by far the greatest trip I've ever taken I just had to share it.  Over the years I've been all up and down the East Coast, from Boston to Atlanta, but I had never been further west than Ohio.  When Ohio is the furthest west you've ever traveled, you may need to get out more.  Luckily, one of my best friends, Tony, moved into the heart of Rocky Mountain National Park and had the idea of having a friend reunion centered around the Tough Mudder race.  Sounded great, but if I'm in Colorado, I'm hiking mountains!

After the standard screaming and hugging involved in seeing Tony again for the first time in years, I started taking in the Colorado scenery, which was a surprising mixture of plains, "alpine desert", and 14,000 foot peaks; Toto, we're not in Syracuse anymore.  Tony wasn't joking when he said he lived in the heart of the Rockies; Estes Park is over 7,000 feet high.  With views of Lumpy Ridge and Longs Peak, the crown jewel of RMNP right outside Tony's window, I felt right at home.  After meeting Tony's awesome girlfriend the three of us took a ride on North America's highest continuous paved road.

Having never seen mountains above 5,000 feet I was totally and completely awestruck by the snow capped, granite peaks.  The never ending chain of extinct volcanoes and lava cliffs was simply sublime.  Beyond the mountains the animals of the Park were just incredible, there were Elk, mountain goats, and even Moose!  I always hated tourists when I lived in NYC, so I felt like a complete hypocrite with the extreme volume of photos I had been taking, but I didn't give a damn, it was too unreal not to.

Needless to say, I was thrilled to start climbing the mountains ASAP.  The next morning we set off for Grays and Torreys peaks a couple hours south.  Despite being some of the highest peaks in the lower 48 and the highest points on the Continental Divide Trail they are actually considered beginner climbs in the Rockies.  We started climbing early in the a.m. after stopping at subway, breakfast of champs (Did you know Subway has bread with jalapeños baked into it!?).  Climbing in the Rockies is nothing like the Adirondacks, you can see the summit of the peaks from miles away, there's still significant snow in late June, and I had my first introduction to altitude sickness, something like a splitting headache and breathing through a straw.

The climb up Grays was pretty quick despite the 14inches of snow.  Oh! I even saw other Black people on the climb up! That makes three ever and I'm not even including myself!  The views were breathtaking, you could see for over a hundred miles back to Longs Peak!  We headed down the shoulder of Grays to trek up the shoulder of Torreys.  By this time it was freezing, literally....in late June.  When we summited we ran into a skier who was about to get down a lot faster than we were.  Him and his dog Pepper had just climbed up before us.  We took in a few more sights, snapped a few more pics, then began the hike down when it happened....snow.  The snow was light, it was actually pretty, but it felt like Syracuse.  After climbing down, the real effects of the altitude hit me in the Jeep.  I layed down until we stopped in Boulder.  Boulder was surrounded by mountains and filled with socialist hippies, now I was home!

The next day our friend Patrick (AKA Gator Boy or GB) joined us with his spectacular girlfriend.  The five of us did some free climbing on Lumpy Ridge where I scraped myself on a gigantic boulder...badly. No matter, totally worth it.  Tough Mudder was the next day, but I'll save that for another post.  The day after TM it was time to say goodbye to my new and old friends.  After leaving the same way I arrived (high pitched wails and hugs) it was time to leave the West.  I sat in the airport (drinking) for hours while waiting for my delayed flight, but I didn't mind at all.  With Denver in the distance, I was glad just to sit there.  Next year I have a plan to hike an entire mountain range before repeating TM, I'm not sure I'll be able to pull myself away next time.

Classic Tony and Stephon

Algonquin in Autumn (Iroquois Too)

Peaks: Algonquin and Iroquois via the Van Hovenberg Trail
Distance: 9.4 Miles
Trail Map


Mountains sweet mountains!  I always hate when multiple months go by and I don't get a chance to visit some mountain range somewhere, but the Adirondacks in Autumn were worth the wait.  As long as I've been going to the ADKs I had never been there in the Fall, so this trip was a special treat.

We decided to hike the 2nd tallest mountain in the state, Mount Algonquin, the only other mountain in the state above 5,000 feet.  We also took on her sister peak Iroquois.  Algonquin was actually a repeat for Brian and I, but when we first climbed it we didn't realize that we needed to cross over it in order to get to Iroquois.  It made for some cool comparison photos since our first trip was over three years ago and in the late spring when it was still quite icy.

The climb was surprisingly easy despite some 4,000 feet of elevation gained between the two peaks.  The mountains had an almost ghostly silence about them in the still air; we rarely have such good luck with the weather.  We had some awesome laughs coming up the mountain since we designated it "Bad Pun Day", it was punderful (see what I did there?!).  When Brian and I had reached Iroquois it marked our 23rd peak, halfway to our goal! Allie had never been on Algonquin so she got to catch up to us in her tally.  We celebrated with some improvised dances that would embarrass the most shameless amongst us.  Upon returning to camp we took in the colors and eachother's company as much as we could before it was time to head out the next morning.  The colors were simply unreal.

My favorite part of the entire trip, as it often is, was hanging out in my tent (A.K.A. the Love Shack since it's the only one large enough to hold the three of us).  We picked a different campsite than usual because the end of the summer limits the availability of campsites throughout the region.  We thought ourselves lucky to find a site close to the trailhead last second , little did we know this site had a creation entirely foreign to our crew: "quiet hours".  After we polished off two six packs in a riveting game of Kings, our friendly campground "host" informed us quiet hours were upon us.  We replied by politely continuing to drink and "whispered" accordingly.  We could not remember the host's name for the life of us, so we called him "Ned"; he just looked like a Ned.  I came to the conclusion that our overly friendly host had a disposition similar to Barney.  Upon speaking those words aloud Allie's eyes nearly popped out of her head as she exclaimed "He's not cool! Oh, you mean the dinosaur, I thought you meant Stinson."  The laugh that ensued was so vociferous Ned came on back to remind us of both the time and definition of quiet hours.  By then we were all too tired from laughing to go on.  We acquiesced to Ned's request and went off to bed.  Oh Ned.

OK!  The part I've been waiting for!  So Allie has the nasty habit of falling asleep on Brian and I when we're driving, making her seem a bit like an extraterrestrial when her hair covers her face and the unearthly snoring ensues.  I warned her I was going to make a collage if she kept it up; she didn't heed my warning.  So I proudly give you "Allie or Alien?"

Not to be biased though, look at this perfectly wonderful shot of me that Brian botched up with a ridiculous face the first time we climbed Algonquin.  Cheers!

Baroque Biking

I haven't written in a while, and seeing how summer is coming to a close, my adventures are becoming increasingly intermittent *sigh*.  I have an ADK trip planned with my Bears, but in the mean time I have to keep the blood pumping.  So recently I rediscovered a past love that I selfishly neglected for years; her name is Shiva.

In the years since I stopped biking it turns out the sport has become even more extreme...well extremely expesive.  They now make bikes with 29'' tires and suspensions that look fit for jeeps.  An entry-level "good" mountain bike will now run you, oh, $1,500.  I do not own such a bike.  Like most things I love, my bike was made in the 90's.  She weighs more than a pack of sled dogs, squeals incessantly, and costs less than half the price of an Xbox, but she is twice as fun and has the added bonus of making me look super-fly as I pedal through town.

Since rediscovering her in a storage space at my grandmother's home, she has forgiven me and decided to let me zip and zoom on her once again (I hope that didn't sound too dirty).  Since then I've traveled about 100 miles on the Erie Canal, visited two of the Finger Lakes, and on one overly ambitious day, went on a 65 mile loop that made my bum sore for days; it was totally worth it, except when I fell asleep on the stairs because I was too tired to walk the rest of the way up.  Recently I took a ride with Allie around Onondaga Lake Park to a health food store about 12 miles away.  We rewarded ourselves with smoothies, which Allie proceeded to immediately knock on the ground, shortly before she proceeded to do the same with her bike.  The moment could not have been anymore quintessentially Allie, until she laughed it off and put a smile right back on her face (after a bit of pouting).

Feeling revitalized I was actually able to keep up with her heading back towards the park.  Allie is a far better biker with a far lighter and faster road bike, so keeping up with her can be a truly monstrous task.  We parked our bikes, unfolded her/our Kammok (an awesome hammock contraption), and took in the picture perfect day.

It was about then that I was in the middle of my good mood streak; nothing has really been able to get me down too much for a few weeks now.  Despite having a multitude of short and long-term obstacles that need to be tackled, I've been able to focus on the bright spots of my days and force the darkness to to the far extremes of my mind.  It's kind of like a Baroque painting that teems with life in the center, but is drenched in black on the outskirts.  As long as I keep it moving, on Shiva, on the Trail, with my Bears and company, I'll keep a smile on my face as I take the obstacles on.

Upon completing this post, Allie and I took a 25 mile ride that climbed some 3,000 feet in elevation.  It was long, painful, and I no longer like biking; please ignore everything I just wrote....I'm renaming my blog Golf Lust, it just seems less painful.
 

The Poverty of Political Philosophy: Why I'd Rather be Hiking

Although I would like to focus solely on my adventures, the reality is that most of my time is spent in painful, monotonous, boredom and frustration. As time has gone on it seems I have lost patience with deferring my desires to another day. Those thoughts all start the same: “When I get done with grad school I'll finally...”, or “Next year, when I save up the money I'll...” That's not to say I need instant gratification, I just feel like I've worked hard enough to start seeing some sort of payoff, and I'm letting my youth pass me by as I'm waiting for a financially secure day to come along. However, that day is becoming more and more remote in my thoughts.

The curse of being a political scientist is that you always have a pretty good sense of your odds in the workforce and society. In our current socio-economic wasteland 4/5 of Americans will experience poverty at some point in their lives, most of the jobs being created pay between minimum wage and $12 an hour, and even fancy Ph.d candidates like me only have a 15% chance of finding university work once they attain the elusive “Dr.” title. I've always been aware of all of this, but as I get closer to writing my dissertation, and the country continues its self-inflicted decline, despair and resentment are beginning to set in.

I'm typing this entry in front of a wall of books, most of which I've attained in the past two years of grad school. I used to fear I would never be able to match the intellect of those on my shelf; the Sartres , Chomskys, and de Beauvoirs just seem like once in a generation minds. It was always motivating to look back at my stacks though, as I imagined the titles of my future great works adorning someone else's shelf one day.  My fears are different nowadays though, they're much less grandiose, more basic, proletarian even. I fear I won't even get a chance to prove my intellect, to write the books. Hell, I fear I'll be taking my Ph.d to start serving at the local bar due to lack of employment and exploding student loans. “Hi, I'm Dr. Boatwright! What will you be drinking tonight?  Oh, I'm sorry, we're out of Red Bull so I can't make a Jager bomb. Have you heard of a Car Bomb though?”

Or, even worse, I'll continue my work at Lowe's, the part-time job that I just can't seem to escape. Lowe's is a fitting place to be miserable and resentful: it's a concrete box with no windows, and if you stick around for 30 seconds you will see something idiotic occur. Of course I've looked and applied to new jobs, but I live in Syracuse, NY, where “Poverty is the city’s overwhelming social characteristic”; the market for quality jobs isn't exactly exploding here. The periodic thought I could be trapped here is one of the primary reasons I've become an adventure loving day dreamer.  I would be lying if I said I hadn’t seriously considered walking out and catching the first bus to anywhere.

There's something so liberating about a trail through the woods, or along a river, or anywhere away from the socially constructed mess we call Western Civilization. There's no fee to walk the trail, no billboards or consumerism, one doesn't need a degree or certificate, or to jump through the hoops that authority regularly places in our way, and whether you reach your destination is solely the product of your own labor; you are in complete control of your destiny. I don't think there's many places or times we can say that in our lives anymore. If I could find a way to trade my degrees for a full-time job exploring and VW Bus to live in, I probably would. Until that day though, I'll struggle on with the rest of you. 

"There's a place up ahead and I'm goin' just as fast as my feet can fly
Come away, come away if you're goin', leave the sinkin' ship behind."

Welcome to Trail Lust!

I never thought I would be one for blogging; it always seemed like an incredible waste of time. However, after having the dual experience of reading Allie's blog (you don't know Allie? Well you should!) and spending as much time thinking about hiking and climbing as I do, I figured it was time to stretch out my thoughts somewhere. So here it goes!

My blog's name is Trail Lust, which is fitting for someone whose thoughts of being outdoors are only interrupted by the need to eat and time spent with loved ones....and I guess a healthy love of Guinness, but that's another story.  I have short, medium, and long-term goals on my adventure bucket list and I hope to share them with anyone who has a similar obsession with towering slabs of granite and the narrow, compacted strips of Earth dubbed "trail". 

I hope to bring stories of my current objective, the Adirondack high peaks, along with the Colorado 14er's, the great three national trails, sites from out West, and if I should ever strike the lotto and find the cash to do it, the tallest 7 summits on all 7 continents (a boy can dream right?).  Also be prepared for the anxiety of having such a strong wanderlust and feeling increasingly trapped by an ever increasing list of undesired responsibilities and the uncertainties associated with them; who wants to grow up anyway? Is it possible to grow down???  Maybe I should be writing a blog about that....sh*t.  Well I already made this page so I guess it's too late.

Before I sign out, let me introduce my climbing partners!  My best friend/basically brother since the third grade, Brian (aka Grizzly Bear).  He throws stuff at me far too often on the trail and is deathly afraid of heights oddly enough, but he is a killer outdoorsman (you'll have to excuse his F-bombs when I post video):

And the aforementioned Allie (aka Brown Bear), the only girl I know who is enough like me to spend days in the mountains singing Ja Rule, and bold enough to tell me to shut up 10x's on end when I'm talking too much.  After knowing each other for the last decade though, I wouldn't expect much else:

Enjoy the ride!  Your fearless leader, Stephon (aka Black Bear).