Triathalon Tryout

I'm trying out this new thing called Triathalon. I've signed, sealed and am waiting to deliver my fate to myself. That is, I've registered for the Pirate Tri, scheduled to take place on June 12th, 2011.

I have been neglecting this blog, it's true. First and foremost I've been pouring myself during hours and after hours into my jobs at Trader Joe's and L.L.Bean in the hopes of making both places better and myself at both places better.

Secondly, I have begun a new cross-training for climbing: triathalons and triathalon-training! As much as possible I go biking and immediately follow that by running. And, if time before work and/or errands allows, I follow that by climbing. This sort of corporeal punishment is just what I want. My mind fights me on this, but I tell it to buck up and buckle up.

So if I don't post again until June 12th you know why. Meantime, happy activities to everyone! Please send me comments with favorite wines, dinner dishes, training scenarios, iphone apps, nicknames, vacation destinations, quotations, unknown artists, blogs, or whatever you're inspired by at the moment!

Cheers to all!

-Your landescaper, n8

Training

For the first time in my life, I am training of my own volition for a goal of my making. And, in order to train for my goal, I have made smaller goals. Like smashing triathalons and trail-running races. This requires training for those activities! Now, I have always been taken by the renaissance and as such I love cross-training. If I want to be a good climber, I rollerblade, run, slackline, and bike in addition to climbing. If at all possible, I double- or triple-up activities within a day, compounding results and effects.

Hold on. Can I just say that one of the greatest side-effects of exercising to the brink of your limits is that your instinctive senses are heightened, especially those of taste. For example, this smoothie I am performing a magic act on (it's disappearing) is normally wonderful. It has cherries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, and strawberries, after all. But right now it tastes like ambrosia and I'm waiting for Hermes to knock on my window with the latest news. Also, reading The Count of Monte Cristo actually makes me want to pick up a pitchfork and go eat some wrongdoers like they were a greek-inspired pasta salad.

But then I remember that I'm a jolly giant. And I'm very tired. The loons whistle love tunes on the lake without snow or ice. Here's what a non-emotional diary entry would look like for my today: I woke up after sleeping for 3.5 hours. Shower. Get dressed. Drive 45 minutes to a 7am meeting. Eat 3 muffins and a coffee and water. OK, fine, I drank the last two. Sponge in all the information at the meeting. Clapped when appropriate. Since my other meeting wasn't until 2:30pm or so, I went to the E-Store. I got some friends some gifts. I went to deliver them in Portland, but they weren't there. So I returned to Freeport (20 minutes of driving each way).

This entry is boring thus far! You say? Then check out what I did next:

I biked as hard as I could for 11 minutes, turned around, and tried to beat that 11 minutes back to my car. By the way, this is with rain paints on because it's drizzling. Upon my return, I take off my front tire as fast as I can, put my two-parts of bike in the car and remove my helmet, and quickly switch shoes to conclude my transition into running. Same deal. 11 minutes as fast as I can run (not sprint) and turn around, trying to beat that time. It felt amazing. I can't wait to do a tri!

Later that night, after my second meeting at L.L.Bean, I went to Portland to climb at the Maine Rock Gym for a few hours. After which I snuck in another 30 minutes of biking around the "city" of Maine. What a great day.

OK, back to lounging. I hope all is well with everyone. And by the way, road bikes rock! Here's my new road bike that I got for a great deal at Gorham Bike & Ski on Congress Street in Portland, ME at the recent April 30th, 2011 Bike Swap event!

Brother

Check it out, bro. We're living big. You're in Cali. Overlooking the valley. It feels good, doesn't it? You're 23 now. Live it up. Yesterday I went to North Conway again. I climbed up my favorite route solo. I did is slow, though. I thought about the view. I looked down. I breathed slowly. At the top I didn't just hop the fence and jog down. I sat it out. I let the mind take the wheel. And you know what? When you let your mind wander, it takes you to some nooks and crannies that don't always get the light shined on them. Sometimes we cast shadows over what's in front of us and miss what's important. I hope you're finding your shadow-dwelling gems. I should go now, but we'll be in touch; summer sun is calling.

Missing Video!

Here's the video missing from the previous post about snowshoeing on the lake!

Unfortunately, I was all alone snowshoeing and all alone on the lake so there is no footage of actual snowshoeing action, but just the scenario.



Cheers!

Lake Snowshoeing!!!

What has two thumbs and wet feet?
Me! I just snowshoed across the lake and back. This may seem like a silly task. Don't worry - I tredged slowly across and took inkless notes on the snowmobile (Read: heavier than yours truly) machine marks spread across the frozen tundra that once upon a time not so long ago was neither so much frozen nor so much tundra.

It may also seem like a simply easy task. And on the way across (la primera vez) it was. I was walking, after all. But don't bawk or squawk like an unimpressed hawk just yet. Don't tip your hat, either, it wasn't that astounding. Steady with the judgment: breaking trail is no joke, especially with snow breaching the one foot mark in places. And - hold your breathe no longer - I jogged back. I believe it's just about a half-mile, especially considering the zigzags or sigsags (they were more natural s-shapes than unnatural z-esque in form) I made.

Enjoy the little video I made wherein, contrary to my previously held thought, I captured my snowshoes in the video.

Considering this is the second post in a row about snowshoeing, I should give you a little scope of what it's about and some of the tips about picking out a pair of snowshoes. Firstly, it's about walking on the Earth as if you've got giant's feet. But fear not, they're removable. It's a temporary condition, something like being able to convert back and forth between human and superhuman easier than most people can convert between imperial and metric. That's quite a feat - haha. But seriously, a good pair of snowshoes lets you float on fallen clouds (snowfields) and smile like you were some ghastly wonderful combination of wheel-less Lance Armstrong and July 20th 1969 Neil Armstrong.

I love my snowshoes because of three main considerations. 1) They're sublightweight. I mean super lightweight. They're lighter than light with respect to weight. I mean I don't notice them aside from the extra noise of them clapping the snow like I'm a happy-go-lucky penguin all the time. I wish I was that penguin from the animation movie mixed with WALL-E. New movie idea! Yay! But yeah, navigating snow is hard enough - why buy clunks of metal to try and stay above the snow? You'll sink! 2) My snowshoes have this awesome and easy-to-use tightening and releasing system that allows me to both engage and remove my snowshoes with gloves on - and easily so. This is great when you are, well, working with snow and cold and ice and winds, and ceteras such as these. 3) What's the third point? Oh yeah. My snowshoes are for mountains! That's right, y'all! They have a heel lift bar that allows you to pop it up so on steep terrain your calf muscles do get a rest as if you're walking up steps. Check out the snowshoes here. Oh yeah, and they have a suspension system. What the hay!

Without further ado, I've got things to do. I hope everyone reading this is having cocoa or putting freshly shaved Parmesan on a delicious dinner! Good night and stay tuned to Radio Aventura!

This broadcast brought to you by yours truly, n8

Mount Washington - Winter Ascent

The foolishly full moon circled the snow-laden frozen lake outside my lighted abode where the snowshoes sat idly by the doorway. If you know me at all, you know I had no choice. Soon I was running pretzel shapes through the powdered place that in summertime I am swimming beneath. I ran up the camp road and on the way down I realized this was something I would like to do more of.

I found myself looking up all of the 4,000+ foot peaks in the northeast. Atop that list stood Mount Washington, located in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. That is, within striking distance.

I looked at weather.com, hoping that there would be a day when the weather wasn't so bad. Something inside me named intuition was telling me that I shouldn't go when it's below zero degrees especially if that's before factoring in wind chill. Mount Washington is a proud 1918 meters in height above sea level, and a notorious wind catcher! So it was that I had my sights on Wednesday. As the days drew closer through the weekend the forecast grew even more generous. My major concern was going alone. I was OK with it, but knew that I would play things cautiously and question my route-finding more, being solo.

Tuesday night, like most of the nights that week, I went to the Maine Rock Gym to climb. I ran into Ben Smith, a buddy there, and asked him what he was doing the next day. Voila! I have a partner for Mt. Washington! He was psyched on the idea and thanks to him my departure time of 9am turned into our departure time of 7am from my house and 8am from his.
Logistics for this hike aren't very interesting. We just ladeled up our food, extra clothing, and beverages in our packs and started off hiking. In hindsight, we should've strapped on our snowshoes right off the bat, but no. We trekked it in our boots, slipping a bit for the first mile or so on the wide path.
After an hour, we came upon the Lion's Head Trail and suited up! The trail narrowed and soon steepened into some technical sections where crampons were preferable but snowshoes sufficed. Roots and branches helped provide extra protection for some marginal foot placements.
It's worth noting that from the car through the lower tree sections we were receiving snowfall and enshrouded in trees and cloud cover. The higher we got it was merely foggy with visibility of no more than 100 meters or so. Exiting the trees was fabulous. We were in a winter wonderland. The wind was intangible. Everything seemed still aside from the clouds surrealistically swirling around us. Trees were replaced by smaller vegetation.All of a sudden, the clouds disseminated into thinner air and the sun shone gloriously down upon us. I looked up, expecting a holy grail or the holy mother or trumpeteers but all I could see was the sun, righteously beaming its rings of heat in every direction. I laughed hysterically and stopped pushing onward and upward to look around. The clouds spun over Tuckerman's Ravine, disappearing before they could completely blanket the hill. Mount Washington rose above it all with a baby blue starless day sky backdrop. I felt like I was born to be doing stuff like this. The air was heavy on the freshness. The light permeated everything, glistening off of the snowy branches. I dropped my insulating layers for a mere windbreaker. I wore a permanent smile and started running! I ran out of breathe quickly and Ben took up the lead.
We summitted before 3pm. The puffy clouds were well below us and stretched as far as my human eye could see. We changed our clothes. Ben put on an extra pair of socks. We snacked quickly as it was markedly colder at the very top than anywhere else. Happy at our half-way success, we soaked it in and began our descent!
Ben reflected on the reel and feel of the day and the beautiful consequences of spontaneous adventures. When will I see something like this again? It's all too easy to forget that certain moments are destined to be unique. I watch as Ben heads back into the clouds, and soak up this rare perspective of the world, normally seen only through the window of an airplane.The magnificence of the experience - the views, summitting with snowshoes, sliding down the smooth parts on our bums, orange slush puppies, stunts by Ben, the quietude of it all - was purely magnetic. My mind keeps pulling me back to the achromatic winter scene when we pushed our way out of the clouds and the sun and sky turned our technical day into a technicolor array.What a way to go.

Gunks 2

A quick trip to N. Conway and the Gunks! If only certain northeastern tectonic plates would put them closer to Maine!
I don't know what these trees have been injecting their veins with, but they're really looking great these days. The colors are popping out, especially when the sun's rising or setting, which is most of the time, so that they drop shadows and their dimensions and true colors pop out even more. Anyhow, to really get a better view of autumnal Maine, I went climbing. Before arriving in the Gunks without a climbing partner, I stopped in N. Conway, NH and ran a lap on Funhouse and Upper Ref. I snapped the photo above when I was held up by my first of two partially beginner parties who were on the route. It gave me a nice time to reflect on the changing of seasons.
And then I drove to New York. Found a free camping spot. And went to bed! The next morning I was staring up at Frog's Head, thinking of rope soloing it to warm up, when Jeff and June, pictured above, approached me and invited me to join them on Maria. We climbed the rest of the day together and it was great fun.
After Maria we managed to squeeze in Morning After, with a surprise unrecorded ascent third pitch that I led, thinking it was supposed to be a 5.4. This was a huge laugh because June, with 20+ years' climbing experience ended up aiding the crux. We plan on returning because she might have done it using a figure four!
The views were stunning, and the climbing was smooth and Gunksy, with roofs that are easier than they look and traverses that sneak into your pocket if your hand's not in it already.Instead of wet ground, the leaves were slippery. Here Jeff pauses before the crux: leaf-walking! It was great spending a day getting acquainted with two fun previous-strangers. They were great companions and didn't mind when I somehow forgot my belay/rappel device and noticed when we were heading up the 2nd or 3rd pitch of a climb! There's nothing quite like rescue-rappeling through trees! Well, more soon! Until then, enjoy some adventures for me! It's starting to get cold here in Maine and soon I'll have too many work hours to get out so much anyhow! -n8