Technology Has its Place

On the day before Thanksgiving, my iPhone died its final death. It died on the one-month anniversary of our forced disconnect from the world wide web. The onset of a mysterious computer/internet problem, in which the two wouldn't speak to each other, but would happily hook up with others, left us confused and frustrated, and ultimately swearing off the whole thing. We could get by! We have our iPhones. Er, had. As I watched it crash its last crash, the little white wheel of death spinning, spinning, spinning, then nothing, I felt calm and freaked out at once. Well, I'll fix it. They'll warrantee it. (It had been dying short-lived deaths for some time already...) Everything felt fine, that is, until as the day carried on, I couldn't check in on anything. My phone's calming effect on my anxiously needing to know what was going on in the world was not to be had. The computer couldn't bring me my fix, either. What if I had an email? Facebook update? News? What if someone needed me?! OH MY GOD, SOMEONE COULD NEED ME!

Well, the first thing I learned from this ordeal is that I'm not that important. No one died because they couldn't reach me. The second thing I learned: life is really nice up here, away from your screen. There are people to hug and talk to, walks to be enjoyed, puppies to be wrestled with, hats to be knitted, guitars that have been waiting patiently to be picked back up again. There is life up here away from the screen, ready to be touched, breathed, felt, seen, and shared, once you're ready to look away from the pixelated version.

Don't get me wrong. I restored my phone. There are too many benefits to having it to go without it: easy communication from anywhere, and a plethora of apps that I use for yoga, meditation, or managing my money. Never again will I be unable to find something - anything - because I can now google, call, and map it all from one place. Phones are super useful: You can call in breakfast from the top of your morning ski run so that its ready and waiting when you get to the bottom of the mountain. You can find your way out of the woods when you're sure you've passed that rock at least twice already, probably from a different direction each time. And you can text your honey just to say, Hey. What it can't do, though, is replace real live living. Human interaction, subtlety, nature, green space, fresh air, love.  You have to look up from the screen/put it down/ turn it off for that good stuff.

I have all of my technology back again. My computer has decided it will sometimes talk with the old internet, although it will always talk with the new internet. And my phone is behaving, for the most part. What's different is my relationship with the stuff. I've been reminded of one important thing: Technology is supposed to make my life better, but its not supposed to get in the way of living. Now I'm shutting this thing down and going for a sunset walk with the dog.

Guest Post from the West Coast

Introducing our newest guest blogger, Silvia, for our first edition of Guest Post from the West Coast! This is a great reminder to live in the present. And Silvia: I, too, dream of someday living out of a car -- a vintage vw van, actually.  ( :

Peace from the East,
Sarah


Author’s Note: I wanted my first “Guest Post from the West Coast” to be about adventure.  However, I recently tore my right ACL (did it last year to my left knee in a stupid telemarking breathtaking view type situation) backcountry skiing Mount Gould in the Central Sierra.  I can write a post about that later. So as a now “ACL-less” person, I’d rather talk about something else for now.  I’m not sure who will read this, as I typically don’t write blogs this long, nor with footnotes.

A few Wednesdays ago was a day of thought and revelation- more so than most days.  I sat in the library nearly all day clicking through options for how to pay for grad school, and looking up other school and job options.  It wasn’t necessarily a day where I accomplished much professionally.  I did manage to check out the first book I grabbed while taking a stretch break.  Oddly, it was by Vermont author, Chris Bohjalian. I found a little bit of comfort in that. I am not quite sure I’ll finish it before the two weeks is up, but I’m really good at starting things lately.  I’ll have to work on the finishing part.

It was a dreary day in this little and soon-to-be bankrupt town of Mammoth Lakes, CA. A town with lots of black bears eating fearful tourists' fish and garbage, people from L.A. wearing their botox, tight pants, and ray bans, and a bunch of adventure loving freaks such as myself.  People flock to the Sierras to soak up, encapsulate the beauty, and revel in the Range of Light, and rightly so.  I am by no means as adventurous as I’d like to be, nor as adventurous as people I know.  I admire all the feats the brave residents and wanderers of the Sierras partake in.  I think for me it is a warming up process, and a what-injury-will-I-get-now-that-both-my-knees-are-bad process. 

Never know who is at your local coffee shop. Gas this day was $4.69 for 87 grade

Some of my family and friends at home don’t understand the dirtbag lifestyle of the West. It’s almost that time of year where multiple rv’s, old station wagons and vans, pimped out vans, and the like start touring through more than they do in winter.  I remember being excited to see who would show up next and driving what when I worked at the Mammoth Lakes Welcome Center.  Granted some of these folk are taking their lifetime dream trip, but a good share are seasonal workers, or people who have saved up, quit their job, retired, laid off, and in general are taking life by the horns with whatever funds they have or havenot.  You get one of everything here.  I have a list that is so long of the things I want to do in the Sierras that will take a decade at least, and I may never make it to British Columbia! Maybe I need to live out of a car bigger than the one I own someday[1].  The idea of a house and garden is getting nicer sounding everyday, though.  

Taken on a sunny day where I sat along Mammoth Creek

 If you know me, you know that right about now is where I remember I am trying to make a point.  So, this revelation, you see, came after a night of visiting multiple hot springs and a morning of sleeping in  (til 11!).  Just about 4pm, my van friend and I were getting frustrated with the library and took the path from the library to a dirt path along Mammoth Creek.  Just in case my PT has time to read this, it was an “even” surface.  The sky was an indigo blue toward the Glass Mountains and Long Valley Caldera[2].  Fog and low-lying clouds were settling in the Sherwin Creek drainage (drains into Mammoth Creek). We both wanted to walk closer to the creek.  I mentioned my fear of drowning, but that I am drawn to water to calm me down and give me solace.  We sat on a rock with some pussy willow shrubs blocking the view of the creek, but the sound of the lively water was the background of our conversation.
 

It started to sprinkle.  Rain doesn’t happen a lot here, and we just sat in it for a few minutes. It wasn’t anything to be concerned with.  We decided to walk back.  That’s when the most beautiful rainbow I’ve seen appeared. Nestled at the base of the Sherwin Range and extending into the Long Valley Caldera.  It was stunning. Perhaps I’ve been watching too much of the Wonder Years lately[3], and everything is making me nostalgic and sappy. Logically, this rainbow appeared because of the weather, but there is religious symbolism to rainbows. I could start asking, “What does this mean?” but I’m pretty sure our neighbor in Yosemite did that on YouTube last year. 

To me, the slight melancholy feeling I’ve been having regarding what is next in my life is nothing new.  It happens every spring before the seasonal transition.  As Real Deal Matt Beal said in college once, “you are always looking for jobs.” It still holds true today.  I achieved my career goal of the USFS, but there isn’t much advancement for me without furthering my studies or somehow finding another in.  So debating whether to go into debt to get a Masters degree instead of hoping to move up the ladder is a big deal. Moving is a big deal.  Establishing residency or not is a big deal. Insurance and where it is based out of is a big deal.  Insurance companies don’t understand seasonal workers move where the jobs are and can’t keep switching insurance all the time, nor switching residency. In a way the government is creating a health care problem by having seasonal workers with no benefits. It is frustrating getting no support from your employer and hassle from insurance.  Either way, I came to California on a whim after listening to that Led Zepplin song[4] and I like it here.

The revelation by the creek was simply: I have to consider that current present situations may affect my decisions. I cannot get so stuck in the future as I tend to.  I have to think about it and be actively pursuing it, but make sure I sit on a rock and enjoy the present once in a while. We all need those reminders sometimes.


Studying for the GRE exam in my tent and hiking all summer as a Wilderness Ranger gave me plenty of time to reflect and revel.  A dream job some say. A job I was fortunate to get.  A job I cannot perform this year because I need to give my knees a break after multiple injuries to them since moving here.  I had a lot of opportunity to think about what I like to do and don’t like to do while backpacking in the wilderness.  I still don’t know what my dream job is, but I’m sure it’ll appear someday.  The seasonality of my resume is still a problem[5], but I’m not quite sure how to solve that.  Which is why we sat by the creek that day. To talk about life and listen to what the water had to say.

Great time to reflect and plan

Never-ending hill- great time to reflect and plan

Calderas are great for hot springs and reflecting and planning.

We all need reminders sometimes. I am thankful for my past, as it has led me to my present, and will help me define my future.  I just have to remember to take a moment to embrace the now. 


If you need any inspiration about living in the present please read this: http://adventuresportsjournal.com/uncategorized/racing-blind-how-one-person-is-changing-what’s-possible-on-a-mountain-bike


Footnotes:
[1] I ponder living out of cars, because my friend visiting lived out of his van all last winter in the Sierras, and did a fair share of couch-surfing at friends’ houses as well. Some people do it year round.
[2] The Long Valley Caldera is one of the biggest calderas in the world. A caldera is a basin-shaped volcanic depression involving magma giving way underneath. http://volcanoes.usgs.gov/volcanoes/long_valley/
[3] Season 1 has a lot of Joni Mitchell to make you feel like you’re missing something.
[4] It was a job offer. Sorry LZ.
[5] I remember Kip asked me that at ORS. Sorry Kip! Adventure called! I miss you all!

Lunch, On The Rocks

Sometimes I imagine Odin's adventures with us from his perspective: We go outside, head into the woods a ways, eat some snacks, and then head back to the car. "Why don't we just eat snacks at home?" he might wonder. But, I think if Odin could speak, he would share a sentiment similar to ours: It's not about the destination (or the snacks) - it's about the people we meet out there, the sights we get to see, and the fun of being outside in the woods on our skis, bikes, or feet. Today was no different from this: Moments in from the parking lot we met up with Abe (a friendly black lab) and his person Nick. We skied along together - the dogs playing, us chatting about our winter adventures. Odin, Tristan, and I were already in our groove. Then, something even more wonderful happened. Just up the trail we could make out two figures, lumbering along with tremendous packs. The dogs barked at them; this was unusual.


The first thing you do when you see someone with a tremendous pack such as this is ask them what they're up to. These two, a girl and a guy, were hiking the Long Trail. In winter! It had been great they told us, and then this snow changed everything. The day they woke up to it, it took them eight hours to move four miles. They didn't even make it to their planned stop for the night. Today, they were headed to town for food. We chatted with them awhile - I was so inspired from meeting them. What an amazing adventure! Before parting ways, we shared our favorite high-calorie trail snack with them: pre-packaged cookie mix with water and dried milk: More calories than you can imagine, a bit of protein from the milk, and sinful deliciousness (think chocolate chip cookie dough with walnuts added in, maybe some dried cranberries - yummmm). We told them they should have no trouble getting a ride. We could relate; food beckoned, and warmth, and maybe a shower. I remembered the feeling, but tried to imagine adding into that several treacherous days in thigh-deep snow and cold. Now I couldn't imagine the feeling.

We parted ways, us moving up the mountain and they moving down. And soon after, Nick parted ways, too - he was headed up to catch the first glade we passed, while we were heading another three miles in, up to the height of land: Lunch Rocks. After a few "nice meeting you's", we all skied on. Tristan and I skinned up and up, through the switchbacks, past the many glades we were looking forward to, and into the high mountain forest we love so much. Just before our destination, we met two couples, our parents' age, skiing down. Again, I felt inspired: I hope I am still doing this in 10 years, 20, 40.... I think I will be, if I can help it.

And then, there we were: Lunch Rocks (though, I had already come to calling this Cheeseburger Rocks because I could think of nothing more I wanted for lunch). I stepped up to the lookout; Tristan was already taking it all in, in peace. And then I saw it - in full panorama: The view was astonishing. And out there, in the distance, the wind mill on top of Bolton. I can see nothing but beauty upon the sight of a mountaintop pinwheel, weaving the wind.  The expanse was amazing.


I was looking at my very favorite section of Long Trail, from Route 2 in Jonesville up and over Bolton Mountain, Mt. Mayo, and on to Mt. Mansfield. I remember the first time I walked these ridge lines, through damp, deep, dark forests. I was in love. We have continued to walk those lines; this is a section of the trail we have repeated over and over again. It feels desolate and wild out here; we've had moose walk up to our tent, we've passed them from feet away, the views of Mt. Mansfield from the back side of Bolton Mountain are unique - a vantage point you don't get from the valley roads, and the climb up the forehead, through the Needle's Eye, is unforgettable. And I remember the first time I saw the backcountry trails that cross paths with the Long Trail in the deep sag before the climb up Bolton Mountain to Puffer Shelter; I remember looking down Raven's Wind, a steep, narrow swath cut into the mountain side. "People ski that?!" Not yet being a skier, I asked myself this. "Hmm...looks cool." Onward. To Puffer Shelter, to Canada, back to the real world, to new jobs, to Montpelier, to our discovery of skis. Here I am again today, exploring these mountains I love so much, only this time I'm on skis. I stood there today, at Cheeseburger Rocks, and took in the view. A view like that can put everything into perspective. There's something about looking down on things that helps you understand exactly what's important, exactly what is cherished. I took it all in; we ate lunch (not cheeseburgers, unfortunately); and we headed back down, but not before I took one last look, and smiled from my heart.

We skied into the dense mountaintop woods, down through the fun narrow shoots of the Catamount Trail.This time we knew these turns, thanks to our recent Bolton to Nebraska Valley tour, and we zoomed down them with smiles. We ripped skins just above a sweet open glade and made our first turns into the deep powdered woods. Again, I smiled from my heart.

As we continued on out of the glades and back on to the trail, we dipped in and out of  the woods at the sight of fresh powder and a steep angle. And we marveled at how life is what you make it, your adventure is what you make it. It can all be as epic - or unepic - as you want and, as long as you're having fun and living from the heart, it's everything it needs to be. The key is to stay positive. And this can be hard! I personally have struggled with negativity, anger, and depression; and I had the realization that this life is what I make it. Each morning, I choose the mood I will be in; I choose my reaction to each of life's events; and I choose where to focus my energy. Life can bring good and bad; the trail can be good or bad. And I can take these developments and do anything I choose with them. Today, life brought me torn blisters on my heel, frustrating missed photo opportunities, a broken climbing bar, and I dressed all wrong - it was much warmer on the climb than I had planned for. But, life also brought us fresh powder snow, wonderful people, happy dogs, and inspiring views, and a break of sunshine through the pine trees just as we crested towards the height of land. We stopped to hear my favorite sound in the world: wind in the spruce trees. I met skinners, skiers, and long-distance winter backpackers. I think if Odin could talk, he would tell us this was far better than eating snacks at home. I can't imagine a better, more epic day than this.

Happy Trails!      

Oh, p.s., today also brought me hand-cut potato fries with bacon and blue cheese at the Res. Holy crap, I have found my reason for living! Seriously - you must try this apres ski snack. ( :

More beaver ponds than you could shake a stick at.....Wait, what did he just say?

   If there is one single reason I delved into skiing three years ago, simply put, it was to to enjoy the outdoors and glide through the forest enjoying the ups and downs of it all.  As I awoke this Thursday morning, quite groggy  I might add, the first thing that came to mind was to continue skiing somewhere I had left off with Sarah a week ago. Sarah was busy with work, so naturally  I called Mike, the Chong to my Cheech- I'm sure he'll be absolutely flattered with that analogy.

So here it was Groton State Forest on a beautiful bluebird day in Vermont with temps in the 40's?! We used access across the lake into Groton SF. As you make your way across the lake you clearly see the granite cliff of Marshfield Mt. (elev. 2,154 ft). This was where Sarah and I  had left off to ski another day just last week when the temps were in the single digits. Now, however, we found ourselves on great Spring corn snow.




Sarah and I have BC skied at some great spots and more than a few are well guarded or well known for that matter.  Many of these spots need drive time, the info and well, the snow pack to get there. This year has been a bit different from last year and I believe last year had us just a little spoiled....OK more than a little spoiled. As things go here in Vermont, I hear most of you are out there making the best of it, which is all one can do.  One thing we really enjoyed last year especially in our "new" neck of the woods was skiing out the back yard or a short drive a way. This has always been at the core of what we believed in especially when we lived in Montpelier and found ourselves car-less.  Hubbard park was "the" scene as we were often there or in the Worcester Range, a slight distance away. 

A little bush whacking..

One of Mike's first descents although I think Odin may have beat him to it?

The cliffs of Marshfield Mt. 2,154 ft.

For awhile now I've been asking Sarah "Whats that beautiful granite peak in the distance?" and Sarah would say " I don't know - maybe we should find out?!"  After repeatedly asking Sarah and expecting her to know I finally found out myself via the CVT - Cross Vermont Trail - a rails-to-trails bike path venturing East to West across the state of Vermont; still a  work in progress.  Little did I know that one beautiful Fall day last year Mike and I would ride our bikes into Groton  SF and find ourselves at the bottom of that very same granite cliff; Marshfield Mt. So naturally we thought it would be great to ski out there as well,  so here we found ourselves exploring the beautiful ponds, forests and meadows of Groton SF. And I can stop asking Sarah what that mountain is!

The Birch trees were astounding

Groton SF has many places to explore whether on  foot, cycling, snowshoeing, paddling or skiing.  Many trails are multi-use and you will find that the CVT becomes a great avenue in which to explore it.  In winter the CVT becomes a snow mobile trail and is quite popular.

As I said " More beaver ponds than you could shake a stick at"

Access is a very touchy subject, especially here in VT and I think Groton SF is a shining example of what can happen when people come together and coexist. One can only imagine the possibilities when examining the trail system which encompasses Groton SF.  With trails and wonderful destinations such as Boulder Beach, Marshfield Mountain, and Kettle Pond, this is truly a place anyone can enjoy no matter how you choose to explore it.

    If a little adventure is what you seek, no matter the mode, Groton State Forest provides - all that is asked is that you find it for yourself, which is the best part. What ever you seek, however much or little snow you may find, make the most of it and remember: If you're not having fun out there then what the hell good is it anyways? Oh and remember don't take yourself too seriously....it affects your turning ability......, it's scientifically proven...OK maybe not,  just have fun out there!


T.

Back at it again.

I'm very excited to be guest blogging again for S and T and getting the chance to share my outdoor experiences with you guys.

I recently started a new career that has me working strange hours with days off at random intervals. There was a wonderful period when I would get the opportunity to join these guys on the majority of their outdoor adventures. Unfortunately, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten out at all, plus the lack of snow in the northeast hasn’t helped.

One of the nice things about working midnights for the last couple months is watching the snow come down, providing me with a handful of beautiful sunrises over freshly fallen powder. I've been too beat post shift to find the motivation to get out without good snow beckoning to me, and it's finally arrived.

Last Friday morning, after a pretty significant nighttime snowfall, I found myself dropping my fiancée off at work. On my way back out of town, I happened to look up and see gleaming trails intertwined among the trees on some of the hillsides above me. I recalled that I had my Karhu 10^th Mountains in the back of my Subaru and was suddenly struck with the desire to get out on the newly fallen snow. Despite having been up all night, I wheeled up an access road to the base of the mountain, strapped in and started climbing.


I had a great time up there, even though the conditions could always be better. I was just so glad to be out, enjoying myself once again in the cold.

I’d hardly been on skis all season so just getting out on the snow, especially after a long overnight shift, was a great way to start (or end) my day. I’m glad I took advantage of the opportunity to get in some turns and am pretty motivated to get out as much as I can the rest of the season. Moving off of midnights in a couple weeks should help…

So, I shared my experience on these trails with my hosts on this blog and, of course, we had to make a special trip back out there together this Monday. Again, I was just getting off shift and might have preferred to go to bed, but my excitement from getting out before, plus having my best friends with me, made it easy for me to forgo my bed.

This time, we all brought heavy gear instead of touring. I was on an AT setup, with S & T dropping a knee (telemark) as usual. We slapped our skins on and began the trek up with my friends' Chocolate Lab, Odin, urging us on. The trails had been tracked out a bit, but it was another beautiful day to be on a mountainside, so we didn't mind.

As we reached the top, we were teased by some skin tracks that seemed to continue up even further, but decided to head back down. We peeled our skins and armored up for the descent with outer layers and helmets. I clicked in the heels of my Fritsche Freeride AT bindings and waited impatiently for T to tighten up his tele bindings.

We'd noticed a pretty nice chute off to one side of the trail we were climbing and decided to take it on the way down. It was relatively open but steep, and was well covered by snow. We could see only a handful of tracks making their way down the mountain, so there was plenty of fresh snow to be had.

I won't do a play by play of our descent, but we all agreed that it was some of the best downhill we've done all season and would have lapped it a couple times if we'd had time.

Unfortunately, later that same day, as well as the next, we received 50 degree temps and rain. I'm hoping not to lose my motivation with the influx of crappy weather. There are whispers of colder temps and more snow later this week. Should be enough to keep the fire burning about getting out.

Thanks again to my hosts for letting me share. Looking forward to the next time and the next line...

Our good friend Mike lives in Montpelier with his lady love Sofia and shares and enjoys the finer things in life like skiing, mountain biking, good food, and good friends.  Here he shares one of his many adventures with us.

Sharing tea and time in the mountains

As the Camel's Hump Challenge approaches, Sarah, Odin and I took the opportunity to climb the Hump and  check in on winter as it seems this year it won't show its true face in the valleys below.  We decided in the parking lot to hike for the summit and leave the skis behind.  Winter hiking was our first passion before we discovered skis and we are always up for a winter hike to a winter summit. This is where we happened to bump into Max as we left the parking lot and he asked if he might tag along and try for the summit, too, as he had just hoped to snowshoe in the lower birch glades being by himself; so of course we obliged.

There are two things Sarah and I love, the mountains and the people we share them with.  People and the mountains are what brought Sarah and I to Vermont after our Long Trail thru-hike in '01.  The Green Mountains, or any mountains for that matter, hold certain things that keep people coming back and draw new people in and, like I said, has brought us here today. 

So off we went as the snow grew deeper and the snow started to fall. Within two hours we reached the clearing before the last 0.2 miles to the summit. This is often where we have our tea and a quick bite before putting on some extra layers to brave the cold wind on top of the Camel. The more you prepare, the longer you can enjoy your short-lived time on top.  Tea is another thing Sarah and I enjoy sharing with good folks in the mountains and it was great to share it with Max.  I think we also managed to drink the last bit of rum we had in our flask before setting out for the top.

The last 0.2 is always my favorite, especially in the winter, and today was no exception. As you climb the snow-filled chute and climb above tree line, you fully expose yourself to the elements as you  reach the summit - 4,088 feet, atop the camel.  Smiles and a bit of yelling are usually the protocol at the top and as the wind blows and your hand starts to go numb from taking some snapshots you all quickly realize man was not ideally designed to withstand these kind of conditions; even though you're layered to the gills. We all set off for the descent; it was time to go home.

With the descent comes welcome warmth and you start to think just how brilliant of an idea hot tea is in the mountains.  After all Sarah and I always make sure to bring tea for this very purpose.  With tea comes  warmth but more often than not we bring it for the company because you just never know who you might bump into when walking into the mountains.  So the next time you venture into the mountains and bring hot tea, share it with someone - it just might make someone's day and yours as well.

 

 Thanks Max

                                                                          T. and S.
                                                                        
                                                                              and
                   
                                                                            Odin

Walking In

This video is exactly what I needed right now.

After working on a writing assignment last night, in which Tristan and I articulated what outdoor adventure means to us, I was left remembering those times on mountain tops, or in deep wooded hollows, waking up to the sun filtering through trees onto the fabric of our tent, or crossing the most beautiful stream you had seen yet. I had nowhere to be but there, nothing to do but walk, or sit and take in the view if I preferred. The colors, sounds, smells, all of it. But mostly the feeling is what I remember: truth, pureness, vitality, health. And don't get me wrong, there were hard times and low times, but they were real too, and part of the experience.

I am so grateful to have had these experiences, like backpacking the Long Trail, spending three weeks deep in the central California wilderness, and living for four continuous months on the Appalachian Trail. I can't believe I have been so lucky. To know these places and these people. They will forever be in my heart, moving from there to my extremities, where these past experiences become just as my flesh. And they are in Tristan's heart and being too; we will forever be connected by these shared times, having been nourished and grown from the same vital tonic.

Last night, as we finished our writing assignment, it was late and I was tired, with a cold setting in. I thought as I shut down the computer about the visions in my head conjured from the sharing of our experiences: I have to get back there.

Finding this video today brought it all back.

"Walking In", courtesy of A Secret Burger Media production.2011.

Spreading the Good Word

Bikes. You've just gotta love 'em. Who doesn't love pedaling around, speeding towards a destination, following a new or familiar favorite line of singletrack, avoiding cars and pedestrians to get to the post office, taking a cruise over to the farmstand to see what's for dinner, or just meandering with no particular goal or schedule in mind? I live for this. I think I know a lot of people who would agree.

I remember my first bike: purple, training wheels, one of those foam cover things over the top of the handlebars, and it probably had some image of princesses or unicorns that girls always adore. I loved that thing! Sadly, it was a birthday present...the sad part is my birthday is in the middle of snowy March. So I zoomed around inside our house; I was blessed with parents who would let me do that! We had a circle of rooms and hallways that I could navigate, and how I never killed a cat or my little sister, or was the cause of my parents losing a toe or major repairs to the house, I'm not sure. I think we even had wood floors - all the better for flying around and peeling out around corners! Seriously: thank you parents.

I am forever grateful to my parents for making sure I always had a bike. There was another bigger pink bike, then a road bike - my first ten speed, and then my first *mountain bike*, a Bianchi timberwolf to which we added a Rock Shox fork. When I was probably about 10, my best friend's Dad took all the neighborhood kids on our first trail ride. I don't think any of us knew what we were doing, and there were like 12 boys and me and Kate, and Kate's Dad. And I thoroughly enjoyed mashing it out over rocks and roots and racing the boys; I rode my pink bike on that trail. And then I kept riding my pink bike on trails. That's when my Dad said "Let's get this girl a mountain bike." I was thirteen, and there was no looking back! I rode Schoolhouse Brook, the Nipmuc Trail, Wolf Rock, White Dot out to Mansfield Hollow, and around the lake. I was amazed at how far I could go in a short matter of time, the distance that could be covered on a bike. And while it was cool to cross the roads as a measure of progress, I reveled in pedaling back into the woods. I used the bike to get to friends' houses, to the UConn campus to drink root beer in glass bottles at Cafe Earth, eat ice cream at the dairy bar (I mean the old one with four stools), and watch movies in the Student Center. Kate and I would ride up and visit her parents at work; later I would ride to my own job, classes, internships.

When I met Tristan, I had just gotten lost trying to navigate my way around the Hollow. "I'll show you" he said. With those long blonde curls, tanned summer skin, and beautiful blue eyes, I said "Sure!" and wasn't really as excited about the biking. But twelve years later, we're still biking together! Bringing me to today, and my current love: my Specialized Safire. There were other bikes: a Hardrock Sport, a Stumpjumper; my Bianchi went away to college with me, but eventually got stolen, along with a heavy old mongoose I had picked up at a tag sale for $15. I learned my new home, Johnson Vermont, by bike with my new biking friend Meghan. Bikes have seen me through my life. They gave me an outlet for my energy and wandering spirit, and they were a constant through tumultuous girl-growing-up years. Still, when I hop onto my bike and take those first few pedal strokes away from my house, my heart is lifted and I feel free, like a kid again. I can't imagine a life without a bike.

Last weekend I had the great pleasure of taking my friend Kate (a wonderful friend I've met in Montpelier, though she has the same name as the before-mentioned life-long best friend of mine!) and her guy Paul out on some new-to-her trails. She has been mountain biking for a couple of years now, and I thought she would enjoy trying out her skills on some new stuff. We had such a good time with perfect weather, the trails to ourselves, and all the time we could need. And Kate was amazing! I was continually impressed with her ability, but so often for women it's not that we can't do it, but that we're afraid to. And Kate jumped in and tried lots of new stuff - her sense of adventure and confident approach was inspiring. I'm so glad to see another woman enjoying her bike.