Reflecting back on the past year, 2013

2013 was good for me. I met great people, got out of my comfort zone, and shared my travels and passions with the people that matter most. We are more than half way through 2014 now, but after going through the 2013 file in my iPhoto account, I couldn’t help but reminisce. It’s been quite the privilege. With 4 months of 2014 left, we will have to just wait and see if 2014 can top 2013.

Only three days into 2013, and I was off with some of my closest friends for a climbing trip to Cochise Stronghold, Queen Creek, and Red Rocks. Thinking back now, 2013 was jampacked with exploring climbing destinations around the states. Many of my road trips were climbing-centric. I climbed at Penitente Canyon in Colorado’s San Luis Valley, bouldered at Moe’s Valley outside of St. George, Utah, did my first multi-pitch climb–and of all places, Yosemite, climbed at Sharma’s home gym, did 7 pitches of a climb in Mazama, Washington, got my ego put in check at Index and Devil’s Lake, fell in love with Tensleep, didn’t climb enough at Spearfish Canyon in South Dakota, and made a spring break trip to the Red River Gorge in Kentucky. More importantly, I got to share these beautiful places with so many awesome people.

I got to share Moab and Southwest Colorado with mom and grandma, went on tons of road trips–one with Caden, one with Cameron, and one alone. Got an insider’s tour of Austin with Kelly, spent an awesome several days in Cape Cod, spent a long weekend with friends at Duncan’s house on Squam Lake in New Hampshire, spent a ton of time on Earl’s Trails in the Holyoke Range, went on my first multi-day canoe trip–100 miles down the Connecticut River with Mike, and went to a ton of national parks–Badlands, Yellowstone, Yosemite, Crater Lake,  Arches, Canyonlands, Mesa Verde, Zion, Sand Dunes, and Devil’s Tower. Woah, can’t believe it.

Thanks everyone who was a part of it all! Here’s to more good times, good friends, and travelin’!

To inspire me

Last fall I had the pleasure of hosting two of my climbing heroes, David Roberts and Ed Ward, at Hampshire College where they presented some slides of their incredible first ascent of Shot Tower via the West Ridge. Seats in the lecture hall were filled as expected and conversation carried on at the High Horse Brewery in downtown Amherst. These guys crush. In 71′, after Hampshire’s inaugural year, they took a group of Hampshire students all the way from Western Massachusetts up the AlCan Highway to Bettles where they took a bush plane into Alaska’s rugged interior, the Brooks Range. They taught good judgement and the rudiments of climbing on the virgin granite of the Arrigetch and claimed several first ascents–Disneyland, Badile, and a beautiful 16 pitch spire called Shot Tower. The slides were so crisp–they are

seared in my mind. Their trip was adventurous, courageous–full of risk and exposure. Although, Dave jokingly admits that the most dangerous thing they did “was let the Hampshire students drive that van to Alaska.”  The trip set the foundation for a strong Hampshire climbing legacy. Many others  have followed and continue to follow the ambitions of Dave and Ed with the same spirit and enthusiasm. People like Jon Krakauer, Pete Ward (founder of NE2C), Pete Clark, Earl and Glenna Alderson and a coalition of dedicated climbers come to mind.

Shot Tower is etched in my mind. I fantasize about climbing the iconic route in 2021, the 50th anniversary of Dave and Ed’s first ascent, to raise money for the Hampshire Outdoor Program. You can read about the 1971 trip into the Brooks Range in Dave’s book, On the Ridge Between Life and Death.

Ed Ward on crux pitch of Shot Tower

 

Northwest to Alaska

IMG_5569Like previous summers, I threw my essentials into the car and drove west towards the mountains. This time, my compass pointed towards even bigger mountains–always bigger mountains is the trend. Alaska. 4000 miles, 15 states, and one speeding ticket later, I am situated in my temporary home base for the summer on Douglas Island, a walk over the bridge from Alaska’s state capital, Juneau.

Sometime back in the fall I got the idea in my head that I’d drive to Alaska for a summer job. At the time, I could hardly take the thought seriously. But after a few interviews, I took a job with Alaska Heli-Mush, a high end sled dog tour kennel on the Norris Glacier in the Juneau Icefield. So I hit the road with my good friend, Faraday. The long drive to work gave me a lot of time to think about what to do without Hampshire College on the fall horizon. The new freedom is exciting, but also overwhelming. I ended the trip with more questions than I started with, but also explored some philosophical territory that provided insight into them all.

So we took to the road, stopping at some of the most beautiful places we had ever seen. But even better than the scenery, were the people we met along the way. We spent our first evening with our friend Martin and his family outside of Detroit. They gave us a place to stay and some good food to eat after a long day of driving. I even got to sing some Polish Christmas songs with his mom (don’t ask) and saw Martin make a pretend machine gun out of his oversized fur-ball cat, Celka.

As we got further from home, the conversations we made with others from familiar eastern states provided much comfort in the new landscapes we were experiencing. Simply being from the eastern states was enough to start a conversation, even if the distance was from Massachusetts to Washington D.C. or even Florida. There was the Sinclair family. We met them at the Liard Hot Springs in northern British Columbia during their trip up the Alcan from eastern Massachusetts to Anchorage, Alaska. They had both just retired and were taking up residence in the great state of Alaska. From just our short parking lot conversation, I was offered a place to stay if I ever passed through Anchorage.

And the transient look into the lives of those who lived elsewhere in the vast North American countryside, whether through simple observation or engaged conversation, proved that we have more in common than not despite our physical distance.  I had learned that truth in Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley: “Americans are more American than Northerners, Southerners, Westerners or Easterners . . . California Chinese, Boston Irish, Wisconsin Germans, and yes, Alabama Negroes, have more in common than they have apart . . . It is a fact that Americans from all sections and of all racial extractions are more alike than the Welsh are like the English, the Lancashire man like the Cockney, or for that matter the Lowland Scot is like the Highlander.”

After spending some meditative alone time in the hot springs, I began talking to some folks from Edmonton, Alberta about the Athabasca tar sands, the dirty extraction process, and our energy future. I learned that they were on the road traveling to Dawson City, Yukon for a friend’s funeral, adding more friends and family to their caravan as they made their trek north. Unlike most others traveling the AlCan, they, like ourselves, were not RV-ers. Just a sidenote–despite being on the road with so many RV-ers, we hardly made any conversation with any of them. They mostly found other RV-ers to talk to about RV stuff. From Liard to Whitehorse, Yukon, we ran into our Edmonton friends 5 times in two days at rest stops and in towns. In Whitehorse, we found them on the side of the river cooking burgers, more friends in tow. By this point, although we didn’t know them by name, we picked up conversation like they were good friends. They offered us some of their food and suggested some good camp spots. They made us feel a whole lot closer to home. All of the friendly strangers did. It was exactly what I needed to experience before starting work far from home.

The trip provided a smooth transition away from college towards “adult life,” plus, Faraday and I were able to get caught up on our favorite podcasts, This American Life and the Dirtbag Diaries.

Trip Highlights: crossing into Canada, Banff and Jasper National Park, seeing many grizzly bears, including a mother and three cubs, several black bears, mountain goats, moose, elk, antelope, bighorn sheep, a Canadian lynx, mule deer, tons of eagles, meeting so many kind people, the Liard Hot Springs, AlCan Highway, traveling through new places, climbing at Bozeman Pass, the Bee’s Knees Hostel and Nancy and Bertha in Whitehorse, crossing into Alaska, Janilyn and the Alaskan Sojourn Hostel, Keith and Brandon (some awesome travelers with some good stories)

Trip Highlights: crossing into Canada, Banff and Jasper National Park, seeing many grizzly bears, including a mother and three cubs, several black bears, mountain goats, moose, elk, antelope, bighorn sheep, a Canadian lynx, mule deer, tons of eagles, meeting so many kind people, the Liard Hot Springs, AlCan Highway, traveling through new places, climbing at Bozeman Pass, the Bee’s Knees Hostel and Nancy and Bertha in Whitehorse, crossing into Alaska, Janilyn and the Alaskan Sojourn Hostel, Keith and Brandon (some awesome travelers with some good stories)

With a Little Help From My Friends

Our original plan was a two-day hike of the Robert Frost Trail, but because of the sort of obligations that arise when leaving a place for a long time, in my case, a drive to Alaska for the summer, we had to settle for one day. Our plan? To see just how far we could push ourselves on the trail using the Robert Frost as our proving grounds. We hadn’t run in weeks—the end of the semester busyness kept us more indoors than we liked. We assumed we would make it around thirty miles which was just over our longest daily mileages. So we set up water caches every ten miles and hit the trail by 7 powering through the ups and downs of the Holyoke Range—a familiar and enjoyable stretch.

In recent years, Max has been my go-to trail running partner—it’s hard to find anyone who wants to run as far as I do in our circle of friends. We talked about everything on the trail—family, future plans, goals and aspiration, communion with nature, personal philosophies, childhood and getting older.

For us both, we’d be graduating from Hampshire College, moving on to new and exciting ventures. While walking along the Robert Frost, I was reminded of the many memories I’d made in these woods. Over the years, on my own and with various classes, I had been to many of the places Max and I passed through—the Lawrence Swamp and Mount Toby with Noah Charney’s Field Naturalist class, Mount Orient and Wendell State Forest with Karen Warren’s classes, the Holyoke Range with my Uncle John. In a sense, the trip provided closure to my time at Hampshire.

Around twenty miles, our bodies were feeling beat from the undulating topography of the Hadley/ Amherst area. We were getting cold and hungry and the conflicting inner dialogue was in full volume: Why the hell are you doing this Joe? There is no way you’ll make it ten more miles… Don’t disappoint Max… You definitely can’t do this… There are worse things in the world… Maybe if I trained harder I’d be able to make it farther, but I haven’t so I might as well give up… But we ate a meal, engaged in more conversation and pushed on. We felt similarly around thirty miles. “Hey Max,” I said. “I just want you to know that if you want to give up, I wouldn’t be bothered.” He said the same and we continued.

Near mile 45, it was like we were in trail limbo. Not only were we tired from hiking more than we ever had in a day, but we were over two hours into the darkness of night following orange blazes by headlamp and we were sleepy-tired now. I thought I was going to die—and the trail seemed like it’d never end. Max tried making conversation, but I could only focus on each step. So, he started whistling. Familiar tunes made steps easier and I began to feel a lot less hopeless. In the cool misty night, the only thing I heard was Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. After the namesake song, Max transitioned into “With a Little Help From My Friends” like on the album. I’m not sure if he whistled it on purpose, but the song carried me to the end. At mile 47 and fifteen hours later in Wendell State Forest, we had made it. We both beat our personal records by over twenty miles—not bad—it was much more than we imagined we’d do. We fought our against our negative inner dialogue and told each other that we could do it—and so we did.

Image

Trip Highlights: seeing a moose, bard owl, and a porcupine. Pigpen boulders, the old UMOC cabin near Mount Toby, old cellar holes, Puffer’s Pond. Diverse ecosystems—swamps, ponds, farmland, riverbanks, mill ponds, dense forests, deep ravines, and wooded ledges.

 

For more information on the trail: http://www.amherstma.gov/DocumentCenter/Home/View/610