Mar 11 - 17

"…That certain persons simply will not like you no matter what you do. That sleeping can be a form of emotional escape and can with sustained effort be abused. That purposeful sleep-deprivation can also be an abusable escape. That you do not have to like a person in order to learn from him/her/it. That loneliness is not a function of solitude. That logical validity is not a guarantee of truth. That it takes effort to pay attention to any one stimulus for more than a few seconds. That boring activities become, perversely, much less boring if you concentrate intently on them. That if enough people in a silent room are drinking coffee it is possible to make out the sound of steam coming off the coffee. That sometimes human beings have to just sit in one place and, like, hurt. That you will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realize how seldom they do. That there is such a thing as raw, unalloyed, agendaless kindness. That it is possible to fall asleep during an anxiety attack. That concentrating intently on anything is very hard work. That 99% of compulsive thinkers’ thinking is about themselves; that 99% of this self-directed thinking consists of imagining and then getting ready for things that are going to happen to them; and then, weirdly, that if they stop to think about it, that 100% of the things they spend 99% of their time and energy imagining and trying to prepare for all the contingencies and consequences of are never good. In short that 99% of the head’s thinking activity consists of trying to scare the everliving shit out of itself. That it is possible to make rather tasty poached eggs in a microwave oven. That some people’s moms never taught them to cover up or turn away when they sneeze. That the people to be the most frightened of are the people who are the most frightened. That it takes great personal courage to let yourself appear weak. That no single, individual moment is in and of itself unendurable. That other people can often see things about you that you yourself cannot see, even if those people are stupid. That having a lot of money does not immunize people from suffering or fear. That trying to dance sober is a whole different kettle of fish. That different people have radically different ideas of basic personal hygiene. That, perversely, it is often more fun to want something than to have it. That if you do something nice for somebody in secret, anonymously, without letting the person you did it for know it was you or anybody else know what it was you did or in any way or form trying to get credit for it, it’s almost its own form of intoxicating buzz. That anonymous generosity, too, can be abused. That it is permissible to want. That everybody is identical in their unspoken belief that way deep down they are different from everyone else. That this isn't necessarily perverse. That there might not be angels, but there are people who might as well be angels." ~ David Foster Wallace (Infinite Jest)

Hawksbill summit (4,051') with Massanutten Mtn to the west in the far distance behind.

"The Slide" on Cedar Run

Robertson Mtn (3,296') on left, and Old Rag (3,291') at center, as seen northeast from Hawksbill (4,051')

Stony Man (4,011') just right of center as seen north from Hawksbill (4,051')

A level section of Old Rag Forest Rd near Bridle Path

Old Rag Ranger Station, just off Old Rag Forest Rd., with Eastern Hemlock at front.

View south from near the summit of Robertson Mtn (3,296')

Panoramic view south from Robertson Mtn (3,296') with the last peak Hawksbill (4,051') on right

Feb 25 - Mar 10

          Tell me what you will of the benefactions of city civilization, of the sweet security of streets - all as part of the natural up-growth of man toward the high destiny we hear so much of. I know that our bodies were made to thrive only in pure air, and the scenes in which pure air is found. If the death exhalations that broad towns in which we so fondly compact ourselves were made visible, we should flee as from a plague. All are more or less sick; there is not a perfectly sane man in San Francisco.
          Go now and then for fresh life - if most of humanity must go through this town stage of development - just as divers must hold their breath and come ever anon to the surface to breathe. Go whether or not you have faith. Form parties, if you must be social, to go to the snow-flowers in winter, to the sun-flowers in summer. Anyway, go up and away for life; be fleet! ~ John Muir

Descending lower Cedar Run with gnarly, but fun, trail behind.

Snow dusted log across Cedar Run at the upper falls crossing.

Shallow part of Cedar Run by the upper falls.

Cedar Run trail crossing Cedar run at the upper falls.

Short smooth section of singletrack on upper Cedar Run Trail.

Easy stretch of steep-tech on upper Cedar Run trail, notice the icicles on right.

View west from Hawksbill (4,051') with Naked Top at front left, and Massanutten Mtn in the far distance.

View north from Hawksbill (4,051') with Stony Man (4,011') just right of center in the distance.

Upper falls on Cedar Run.

Lower falls on Cedar Run.

Descending Cedar Run with the lower falls behind.

Snow lined AT with Mountain Laurel, and Beech still hangin' on to their leaves.

Super low pitch, practicing the set-up/tear-down with a new tarp.

Favorite acoustic musician.

Feb 18 - 24

If nothing within you stays rigid,
Outward things will disclose themselves.
Moving, be like water.
Still, be like a mirror.
Respond like an echo.
~The Book of Lieh Tzu

View northwest towards West Virginia from the fire lookout at the summit of Elliott's Knob.

View west and north from the fire lookout on Elliott's Knob.

The fire lookout on the summit of Elliott's Knob.

View east from the fire lookout on Elliott's Knob over a cloud blanketed Shenandoah.

MD AT lined with Hemlock just south of Wolfsville Rd.

View east towards Catoctin from South Mountain.

A flat MD AT at Pogo Memorial Campsite.

uggghhhhh, a stretch that defines being nimble and fluid

Feb 4 -10

When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe. One fancies a heart like our own must be beating in every crystal and cell, and we feel like stopping to speak to the plants and animals as friendly fellow mountaineers. Nature as a poet, an enthusiastic workingman, becomes more and more visible the farther and higher we go; for the mountains are fountains - beginning places, however related to sources beyond mortal ken. - John Muir (My First Summer in the Sierra)

Well, this week for the ITBs went well, they felt better than they have since this ordeal started, so that is very good news. But, at the beginning of the week I stressed a joint/muscle in my right foot so I took a super easy week, and tested it out Sunday with a relaxed 18.8mi run on the AT with JPeake, on an absolutely beautiful day. It fared well until I must have stepped on a rock the wrong way and agitated it. So, I'll spend this week really trying to nurse it back to normal, and if anything take a real easy end of week and weekend to let it stay rested and un-agitated. Have some real exciting backpacking plans on the horizon awaiting healthy ITBs. I'm thick with anticipation, and feel a bit like a caged animal ready to run free.

Standing on White Rocks Cliff on the southside of Lamb's Knoll directly on the AT.

Descending the AT south towards Crampton's Gap, on trail lined with Mountain Laurel, and Beech trees yet to drop their leaves.

The infinite detail and lavishness of Nature, shown on a rock's surface.

View over South Mountain from White Rocks cliff.

View east towards Catoctin Mtn from atop the Washington Monument,

Pictures

Pictures:
Photos are taken with a compact point and shoot I tuck in my waist band, or race vest while running, or that is packed in an accessible pocket while backpacking.

I use either a Canon s90, or on other occasions use an inexpensive but very slim and compact Sony Cybershot.

Pictures alone can be found HERE

Jan 21 - Feb 3

          Unjust laws exist: shall we be content to obey them, or shall we endeavor to amend them, and obey them until we have succeeded, or shall we transgress them at once? Men generally, under such government as this, think they ought to wait until they have persuaded the majority to alter them. They think that, if they should resist, the remedy would be worse than the evil. But it is the fault of the government itself that the remedy is worse than the evil. It makes it worse. Why is it not more apt to anticipate and provide for reform? Why does it not cherish its wise minority? Why does it cry and resist before it is hurt? Why does it not encourage its citizens to be on the alert to point out its faults, and do better than it would have them? Why does it always crucify Christ, and excommunicate Copernicus and Luther, and pronounce Washington and Franklin rebels?
         One would think, that a deliberate and practical denial of its authority was the only offence never contemplated by government; else, why has it not assigned its definite, its suitable and proportionate, penalty? If a man who has no property refuses but once to earn nine shillings for the State, he is put in prison for a period unlimited by any law that I know, State, he is put in prison for a period unlimited by any law that I know, and determined only by the discretion of those who placed him there; but if he should steal ninety times shillings from the State, he is soon permitted to go at large again.
          If the injustice is part of the necessary friction of the machine of government, let it go, let it go; perchance it will wear smooth, - certainly the machine will wear out. If the injustice has a spring, or a pulley, or a crank, exclusively for itself, then perhaps you may consider whether the remedy will not be worse than the evil; but if it is such of nature that it requires you to be the agent of injustice to another, then, I say, break the law. Let your life be a counter-friction to stop the machine. What I have to do is to see, at any rate, that I do not lend myself to the wrong which I condemn.
          As for adopting the ways which the State has provided for remedying the evil, I know not of such ways. They take too much time, and a man's life will be gone. I have other affairs to attend to. I came into this world, not chiefly to make this a good place to live in, but to live in it, be it good or bad. A man has not everything to do, but something; and because he cannot do everything, it is not necessary that he should do something wrong. It is not my business to be petitioning the Governor or the Legislature any more than it is theirs to petition me; and if they should not hear my petition, what should I do then? But in this case the State has provided no way; its very Constitution is the evil. This may seem to be harsh and stubborn and unconciliatory  but it is to treat with the utmost kindness and consideration the only spirit that can appreciate or deserves it. So is all change for the better, like birth and death, which convulse the body.
          I do not hesitate to say, that those who call themselves Abolitionists should at once effectually withdraw their support, both in person and property, from the government of Massachusetts, and not wait til they constitute a majority of one, before they suffer the right to prevail through them.  I think that it is enough if they have God on their side, without waiting for that other one. Moreover, any man more right than his neighbors constitutes a majority of one already. ~ Henry David Thoreau (excerpt from 'Civil Disobedience')

Sun rising over a snow dusted and mountain laurel lined AT, with the infamous 'white blaze' at center.

Enthused to have the ability to open the stride on a miraculously rockless stretch of the AT, albeit a very short one.

White Rocks cliff, right on the AT, on the south side of Lamb's Knoll, overlooking the ridge of South Mountain, and on the right the Blue Ridge just before its northern terminus.

Flat and rockless stretch of AT on the ridgeline on Lamb's Knoll south side.

Typical 'steps' for trail erosion, which in the winter collect the snow melt, forming pools which then ice over, and crack under your weight when you cross them.

New material from the just released Local Natives album, they are absolutely electric live.

Jan 14 - 20

          The wind has gently murmured through the blinds, or puffed with feathery softness against the windows, and occasionally sighed like a summer zephyr lifting the leaves along, the livelong night. The meadow mouse has slept in his snug gallery in the sod, the owl has sat in a hollow tree in the depth of the swamp, the rabbit, the squirrel, and the fox have all been housed. The watch-dog has lain quiet on the hearth, the cattle have stood silent in their stalls. The earth itself has slept, as it were its first, not its last sleep, save when some street-sign or wood-house door has faintly creaked upon its hinge, cheering forlorn nature at her midnight work, - the only sound awake 'twixt Venus and Mars, - advertising us of a remote inward warmth, a divine cheer and fellowship, where gods are met together, but where it is very bleak for men to stand. But while the earth has slumbered, all the air has been alive with feathery flakes descending, as if some northern Ceres resigned, showering her silvery grain over all the fields.
         We sleep, and at length awake to the still reality of a winter morning. The snow lies warm as cotton or down upon the window-sill; the broadened sash and frosted panes admit a dim and private light, which enhances the snug cheer within. The stillness of the morning is impressive. The floor creaks under our feet as we move toward the window to look abroad through some clear space over the fields. We see the roofs stand under their snow burden. From the eaves and fences hang stalactites of snow, and in the yard stand stalagmites covering some concealed core. The trees and shrubs rear white arms to the sky on every side; and where were walks and fences, we see fantastic forms stretching in frolic gambols across the dusky landscape, as if Nature had strewn her fresh designs over the fields by night as models for man's art.
          Silently we unlatch the door, letting the drift fall in, and step abroad to face the cutting air. Already the stars have lost some of their sparkle, and a dull, leaden mist skirts the horizon. A lurid brazen light in the east proclaims the approach of day, while the western landscape is dim and spectral still, and clothed in a sombre Tartarean light, like the shadowy realms. They are Infernal sounds only that you hear, - the crowing of cocks, the barking of dogs, the chopping of wood, the lowing of kine, all seem to come from Pluto's barnyard and beyond the Styx, - not for any melancholy they suggest, but their twilight bustle is too solemn and mysterious for earth. The recent tracks of the fox or otter, in the yard, remind us that each hour of the night is crowded with events, and the primeval nature is still working and making tracks in the snow. Opening the gate, we tread briskly along the lone country road, crunching the dry and crisped snow under our feet, or aroused by the sharp, clear creak of the wood-sled, just starting for the distant market, from the early farmer's stubble; while far through the drifts of powdered windows we see the farmer's early candle, like a paled star, emitting a lonely beam, as if some severe virtue were at its matins there. And one by one the smokes begin to ascend from the chimneys amid the trees and snows. ~ Henry David Thoreau (opening excerpt from 'A Winter Walk')

The alarm sounds at 3:30am Saturday, I grab the gear, clothes, and shoes, and am in the car on the drive no more than five minutes later. Only fifteen minutes down the road the temperature gauge starts to soar, ugh you have to be kidding me. I pull over, check the coolant, and well, there is none. I dump the water I packed into the radiator and head back home. The driveway when I arrive shows pool that the coolant leaked out overnight. Defeated, I head back to sleep, I'll deal with fixing the car when the sun rises. Agitated I'm back up by 6:30am and tearing the car apart. After no more than 10minutes of work I have the radiator out and am scouring it to find the problem. Hit by a rock. Really? What luck. I had this same problem no more than 6 months ago. Two rocks, two radiators, two holes, what are the odds? So, I set to the computer to see if I can get my hands on a salvaged radiator, second one that is, but I'll have to wait til 8am to call the shops when they open. I call no less than five different yards til someone says they have the part, in stock, off the salvaged vehicle, and ready for pickup within the next hour. I hit the road, drive an hour to the place, and....they can't find the part they were so sure they had in stock an hour ago. Ok, no worries. I call the pops and have him call some more places to check for the part. He calls back within 10minutes and says a place and hour and a half north has the part, in stock, and is open til 3pm. So, I drive the 1hr30min north. They have the part, but for a automatic vehicle, not manual. No worries, the only difference is a line that runs through the bottom reservoir of the radiator to cool the transmission oil, but has no effect on installing it on a manual vehicle. So, I get the part and drive the 1hr15min home. Install the part in 10minutes, it's now 4pm and I've spent the day driving for 20min worth of work. I take the car for half hour drive down some back roads I've not driven in years to make sure the new radiator is working, and end up watching a satisfying sunset. Sunday, the alarm sounds at 330am and I hit the road in five minutes. Thankfully the radiator is working, I've got 4hrs to go til I hit the trailhead. Driving down a random, remote, two lane back road I get pulled over in the pitch dark at 5am on a sunday, 66mph in a 60 by the local sheriff, really you have nothing better to do? Whatever, I got a mountain to run, and a $50 dollar fine ain't guna ruin my day, nor tomorrow, I got bigger things to worry about that abiding the social customs of habit we've adopted within our society. Now, almost to the trailhead, at 630am, it's still dark, and there's...there's a dog in the middle of this back road. I stop, it bounds over, overjoyed to get the attention. I open the door, check to see if it has a tag, there's none, all the while the dog thinks it's time to jump in the car and go for a ride. There's plenty of houses in the immediate area so I assume it's just out for it's morning stroll like me. I tell my buddy to get out the road and run on home, and get on my way. Finally 7:30 and I'm on my way up the mountain. It's a sweet run up, I'll let the photos below do all the talking. When I get to Hanging Rock Vista, my original turn around point, I decide that rather than backtrack the way I came on the AT I'll take the Mau-Har trail to make it a loop back to the trailhead. I descend down the northside of Three Ridges and the 8in of powder has me giddy and full of energy. Not much later I start thinking I may have missed my turnoff. It's been much longer than it should have been. Unsure of how far I've gone, and uneasy about pushing forward, I decide I'll now backtrack adding whatever distance I've run to my now overall distance. Turns out I was no more than 50yards from reaching the trail and Maupin Field Shelter, but so it goes. Would it happen any other way? So, I tacked on and extra 3mi and 1100'. I slog back up in the snow, a constant ascent, past Hanging Rock Vista and to the summit of Three Ridges 3,970'. Suddenly just ahead there are two dogs no more than 50yards away. I beckon them to come over, and they take off the opposite direction up the trail like I'm sasquatch. I follow them but they get out of sight and I can't hear them either. I keep descending, taking notice that I'm really starting to run low on calories, though my motor skills are still honed, stride still smooth, and mind concentrated. I can hear barking ahead but still can't see the dogs nor any person. Weird. I should have passed a person by now if the dogs were following them because there is no way they're moving faster than I. The descent is fast but still has 1,750' of climbing over the 7miles from Hanging Rock. I make it back to the trailhead running on fumes and can feel I'm ready to super bonk, unexpectedly tacking on those extra miles and vert has taken it's toll with this calorie deficit. I down 20oz of Coke and no more than 10min later I'm feeling sky high. No dogs, and no other people in the parking lot, huh. I hit the road, window open, sweatpants, sans shirt and shoes, what a beautiful day. I stop to get gas, and drop the gas cap. It rolls away 10 feet to the front of another pump. I start pumping gas, with it in mind to pick the cap up while the gas is pumping. Suddenly a car pulls up and runs the cap over, it literally explodes, shattered, as if....as if it was run over by a car. They ask "was that yours?", I reply "Nope" with a sarcastic smirk that seems like a serious answer to them. What a weird string of luck, though, the only thing that mattered was how much I enjoyed getting out in the mountains, everything else just felt like baggage. I splurge on a sub, candy bar and soda, I'm feeling starved and the food does the trick. Hours of driving and back home, all I can think is "whew I need to sleep in til at least 6am after all this". Life only passes when you're not looking.


All pics taken with the super compact Sony.

Bridge over the Tye River on the AT at the base of Three Ridges and The Priest.

Looking up from near the base of Three Ridges at The Priest 4,051' colored with morning light.

Mountain Laurel lined trail on the lower half of Three Ridges.

View of Three Ridges summit 3,970' illuminated by morning light from below the first ridge.

Looking down Harpers Creek with The Priest 4,051' visible in the far distance.

The Priest 4,051' from a rock outcropping near the lower ridge of Three Ridges 3,790'.

Rock illuminated by the rising sun and shadowy trees.

Three Ridges 3,970' to the right seen from just below the second ridge ascending the AT.

View north from the second ridge at 3,204', with the summit of Three Ridges 3,970' to the left.

Rocky trail on the last push to the summit.

8in of snow just below the summit looking back down the AT south.

A serene snow blanketed summit of Three Ridges 3,970'.

The Priest 4,051' as seen from Hanging Rock Vista 3,750' just west of Three Ridges 3,970'.

The ridge,  just ascended, of Three Ridges 3,970' with its summit just left out of frame, seen from Hanging Rock Vista 3,750'.

Vast view from Hanging Rock Vista 3,750' with The Priest 4,051' just right of center.

Descending the north side of Three Ridges with 8in of fun and fresh powder.

On the move with a determined descent.

Descending down the ridge-line with The Priest 4,051' in the distance.

Looking back at the summit of Three Ridges 3,970' up the ridgeline.

Descending down the ridgeline of Three Ridges with The Priest right of center.

Get with the energy.