Nikko Lee's Blog, page 26

Little Long Pond

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With the warming weather, we took Bruno out for a walk with people and doggie friends around Little Long Pond. The shortest loop is about 4.2 miles. It took us around 1.5 hours to meander around the trails while the dogs ran through the woods and chased each other.

Little Long Pond is a rarity on the island in that it is one of the few places where dogs are welcomed to cavort off-leash. It's a favorite walking spot for the Dog Scouts and many other dog lovers and their four-legged friends.

It's been over a year since Bruno had his cruciate ligament surgery, but he still hasn't regains the umph he used to have. Granted he has breached middle-age, however, his recovery has brought out a little malamute couch potato-ness. That is until the leash is off and he's got another dog to keep up with.

Even though we didn't have much of a winter in the way of snow, there was still plenty of ice on the covered portions of the trails. It wasn't enough to warrant grippers. It did make some sections a little challenging for dogs and people alike.

Winter SAR training in Baxter

Last weekend I had the opportunity to join Lincoln Search and Rescue (SAR) at Baxter State Park for a winter training. It was something I had wanted to do last year but was woefully under-equipped. After a couple of shopping sprees and borrowing some gear from various team mates, I was ready.

Baxter is one of my favorite places. I have yet to make it to the top of Katahdin but have visited Chimney Pond twice. The above tree line trails always look a little daunting and all the more in winter. Given the relative lack of winter along the coast, I was looking forward to playing in some snow.

Friday we met up at the Abol Bridge parking lot and were snowmobiled into the Roaring Brook. The temperature was perfect, in the mid-twenties. The 45 minutes ride was followed by a 3.3 mile snowshoe up to Chimney Pond. I'm pretty sure it was an easier climb on snow, but I was still struggling to get up some of the hills. Of course the 25 pound pack didn't help much.

Besides the transport of gear, the park also provided us with the use of the crew cabin. Having a warm dry place to sleep at night was a definite perk and greatly appreciated. I'm not sure I'm quite ready to tackle winter camping. Tackling a little mountaineering was going to be challenging enough.

On Saturday, we did a pretty intense hike up the gully below Pamola's Furry before traversing over to the base of the Chimney. Some of the group scouted the Chimney while the rest of us hung back below. It snowed all day Saturday. There was a small release from the false Chimney and a fracture in the snow in the Chimney. Just as we were getting ready to decide if we were going to hang out some more looking at the snow conditions or head down there were some pretty impressive releases over on the Cilley Barber trail. I'd never heard or seen an avalanche in person. It was both awe-inspiring and terrifying at the same time. Although just release of new snow, we still decided to head down out of the path of anything. Below we worked on snow shelters before headed back to the cabin to learn about snow anchors.
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On Sunday, we performed a mock rescue below the Pamola ice flows. The wind was howling but at least the snow had stopped. No one got blown off the slope, but a few of us got tipped over. It turned out to be a really smooth operation all things considered. I got to set two snow anchors for the second station belay and run the belay during the transition and lower. It was a lot of fun to be out in those conditions on that kind of a slope doing something that could help someone.

After a debrief and cabin clean up, we were ready to head home. I almost felt guilty as we walked down to Roaring Brook and passed numerous hikers and climbers hauling their gear up on sleds. Almost. I was pretty beat by the end of the weekend. It was definitely a lot tougher mountaineering than I've done before. I'm not sure I'd enjoy spending a day mountainerring in Saturday's conditions without the motivation of a rescue.

In all, it was a great learning experience and really challenging. More photos are posted on the MDI-SAR facebook page.

What Karate Means to Me

When I tested for my first rank in Legacy Shorin Ryu, I had to write an essay entitled 'What Karate Mean to Me.' Even at that early stage karate-do had already made an impact on my life. In the years since, I have trained in several styles, in many different schools, and with a lot of fantastic people who have taught me about myself, themselves, and life. Since the age of sixteen, I haven't gone longer than eight months without training. Even then it was only because I had moved and had to find another school. At the beginning of February, I decided to take a break from training. Now seems like a fitting time to re-examine that first essay topic.

My first introduction to martial arts occurred while I was on break visiting my father in Canada. He and my brother had started attending a Tae Kwon Do school with classes in Montgomery and North Troy, Vermont. I had never seen anything like it. Not the martial arts - that was in movies and on TV. What impressed me the most was the atmosphere of study and the dedication of the students. They actually wanted to learn and worked hard to improve. This was a far cry from my high school classes where achieving was almost viewed as a negative. As soon as I got back to my mother's in Connecticut, I signed up for the closest class I could find.

The local YMCA a few blocks from our apartments offered a Tang Soo Do class taught by Mr. Wood. I was an over-weight, out-of-shape teenager, but I fell in love with training. The challenges were endless, but always within sight. Mr. Wood was an interesting man with a military background he rarely talked about. Aside from a few gory stories, his quiet calm manner left me with the impression that he could be dangerous if he had to be.

For the next two years, I alternated between training in Tang Soo Do with Mr. Wood, and later Master Lee when the YMCA class was absorbed into the main school's classes, and Tae Kwon Do during the summers. I met some interesting people whose dedication to improvement and the impossible aim to achieve perfection fascinated me. The art and philosophy that governed both systems intrigued me. I also learned how to take a hit without falling apart. The axe kick to the cheek from my brother left an impression, but also taught me that getting hurt wasn't the end of the world. I also learned to push myself beyond my comfort zone. Many nights I came home exhausted, sore, and with a feeling of contentment that only comes from hard work. From break-a-thons to raise money for a playground to 400-kick nights, I finally found a place where I felt like I could strive to be the best I could be without being looked down on as a teacher's pet or goodie-goodie.

After two years, I was off to University. This meant a move back to Canada and leaving Mr. Lee's school. I was leaving with a red belt (3rd degree) in Tang Soo Do. After the initial shock of being alone and far from home, I went to the clubs week in hopes of finding a club to join. Socializing has never been my strong suit, but a group learning environment was a great way for me to meet new people. I was shocked to find out that the Tang Soo Do style I had been training in was a Korean version of Shotokan karate. The university had a karate club that offered a mixture of Matsubayashi Shorin Ryu and Chito Ryu. The former was closely tied to the Shorin Ryu system that Shotokan was based on.

When I joined Legacy Shorin Ryu, I had no idea how big an influence it have on my life. I took off my red belt, which in Shorin Ryu was the color of 10th dan, and started over as a white belt. I had already experienced being a white belt in two systems and felt it appropriate considering the differences in what I was studying versus what I had studied.

During the school year, I trained several times a week with Hanshi Legacy and the numerous black belts in his school system who had their own schools. Monday and Wednesday nights there was a class at the University club. Tuesday and Thursday nights, it was training in St. Thomas. Friday nights, I sometimes trained with Shihan Bowron at the YMCA downtown but  I eventually dedicated to helping Shihan Chaki with her classes at another YMCA. Some Wednesdays I'd help Sensei Patricia Beauregard teach her class at a French immersion school. Other Wednesdays became iaido/kobudo night. There were clubs at the local residential school for the deaf and hearing impaired. There were classes in the neighboring towns. Saturdays were for brown and black belt work-outs. Every other Sunday we practiced Hakutsuru (white crane). There was always an opportunity to train and a black belt to train under with so much knowledge and experience that every class was a challenge. I even got to help with the tiny tots classes on Saturday mornings before the brown and black belt classes. Some weeks we trained six days out of seven.

As I rose through the ranks, I faced many challenges and frustrations. I learned to lead exercises and then eventually classes. I worked with children as young as three years old and sparred with a professor emeritus black belt who had plenty of tricks up his sleeves. Testing taught me confidence and the art of presentation. I fought people I had never met before and Shihans who I knew well enough to feared their skill. I learned to take more than one punch and stay in the fight. When I broke my thumb and couldn't spar for my first kyu testing, I learned the value of opportunity. After that I was always the first person to volunteer to spar no matter who the opponent was. And there there plenty of opponents to face. I learned to dampen down my own anxiety and fears to do what I needed to do.

In the many Legacy Shorin Ryu schools I made many friends, found valuable training partners, and countless people I admired and respected. Some of my best friendships were forged on the dojo floor or over long car trips to and from training seminars or tournaments. I found great role models who I wanted to emulate not only in my training but in my everyday life. Everyone had something different to teach. From Sensei Baer's fluid power to Shihan Bowron's explosive speed to Shihan Chaki's attention to detail and penetrating techniques. Many training partners came and went until it was my turn to leave.

During the last summer of my undergraduate years, I had the opportunity to live and work in Montreal. My love of karate prompted me to look for a place to train until I went back to school. It was surprisingly difficult to find a school with the same energy as Legacy Shorin Ryu. I found schools that focused on 'real world' combat using chairs and ashtrays as weapons. I found kickboxing/aerobics classes. It wasn't until I stumbled into a Kyokushinkai dojo in Dollard-des-Ormeaux that I found kindred spirits.

The school was owned and run by a semi-professional kick-boxer. However, his classes were traditional. At that point I was a third kyu in Shorin Ryu and was not looking to learn a different style. The owner allowed me to train in his back room after work. I also signed up for a Kenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu weapons class taught by Sensei Dave Purdy. That summer I trained to my hearts content and was introduced to the bokken (wooden sword). I learned the flow and symmetry of two-person katas and fell in love with sword-work. The summer was too short. While I was sad to part ways with more good friends, I took the lessons I'd learned with and from them with me.

Kyukushinkai is one of the more brutal styles I had ever seen. This school at least put a high importance of body conditioning and overcoming weakness. I watched a woman test for a first kyu and fight every black belt in the room including the school owner (and semi-professional fighter). Injuries were common and gi's were ripped. However, there was no doubt that every student felt they earned their rank.

Sensei Dave Purdy taught me about precision and patience. Sword-work requires an exacting attention to detail. Misplace even a toe and the strike will not be delivered with maximum effect. Beyond the nuts and bolts of weapon use, there is a culture associated with Japanese weaponry. How to sit. How to stand. How to bow. Every detail revealing intent and purpose.

I spent nine years training in Hanshi Legacy's schools. After obtaining my black belt, I spent as much time as an assistant teacher as I did training my own material. There were times when I became discouraged by what I felt was a lack of improvement on my part. There were times when I would find who new worlds of training opened up to me.

Through Legacy Shorin Ryu I learned not only Shorin Ryu and Okinawan weaponery, but I also had the opportunity to train with Sensei Nick Suino in Muso Jikiden Eishin Ryu Iaido and with Hanshi Anthony Sandoval in Matsumura Seito Ryu and Hakatsuru (white crane).

There is something inexplicably peaceful about handling a sword. I've had a few opportunities to draw an iaito (dull blade) and cut with a live blade. It takes endless practice and a steady mind to perform weapons katas with effortless grace. Iaido is probably the art that most exposes a person's soul. Nerves, anxiety, fear, unpreparedness, and any other mental or physical deficiency are laid bare for all to see as soon as a swordsman draws.

Training shifted from the physicality of punching and kicking to the subtler arts of joint manipulation and energy flow. Hanshi Sandoval always had an ease about him from his personality to his body movements. There was an effortlessness that I wanted to obtained.

When I finished my degree and set out for a post-doc in Minneapolis, I wasn't sure how or where I would continue my training. Karate had been apart of my life for so long that I couldn't imagine not doing it. So I set out in search of a new dojo.

I found dojos that merely got by with minimal training and effort. I found hard working dojos that lacked the underpinnings of white crane. I found good classical weapons schools that were just too far of a commute for me. I found a wonderful iaido school that was likewise just a little too far out of reach for me. Life became complicated and the excess energy that karate would normally consume built up in unhealthy ways.

Eventually I settled on a Tang Soo Do school, the Karate Junction, a few blocks from my apartment. It was run by an amazing woman who was also a personal trainer, Deb Hall. I wasn't sure that I could settle in a school that wasn't Legacy Shorin Ryu. So I started attending her kickboxing class. Wow, what a workout. I never left the school without being covered in sweat and exhausted. Her physical stamina and ability was an inspiration to me. After a few months, I put on a white belt.

Even though she taught Tang Soo Do it was a different style from the one I started in. I was again a beginner and enjoyed the challenge of learning something new. It was a far cry from Legacy Shorin Ryu but it was something I needed.

The chaos of life, economics, and a move to Maine led me to look for another dojo. I was ecstatic to find out that there were traditional Shorin Ryu clubs in the Ellsworth/Bar Harbor area and emailed a local sensei  before I moved. After moving into my apartment I headed up to Bangor for dinner out. On the way I spotted Hamel Dojo and stopped by. This wasn't the sensei I had been corresponding with, but as soon as I saw how his students moved I knew I had found something I had been searching for.

In Sensei Hamel and his black belts I saw traces of Hanshi Sandoval. I had finally found a Shorin Ryu school with a white crane backing. This was the real deal and where I wanted to train. Going from a second degree black belt to a white belt in a style so close to Legacy Shorin Ryu was the hardest thing I have ever done. When I started, I gave myself five years to figure out if this was the right dojo for me.

I had been a white belt many times, in many styles. However, it was indescribably difficult to put away my black belt thinking when it came to Shorin Ryu. I had to empty my cup and learn a slightly different way of doing what I'd spent nine years doing. I had to 'Hai, Sempai' when I felt I knew better or disagreed. And I had to adjust to a dojo that was not as strict or high intensity as I was used to.

All of this was only possible because of Sensei Hamel. His knowledge and experience were by far the most advanced I had seen since I had left Legacy Shorin Ryu. The proficiency of his top black belt students assured me of his skill as a teacher.

After two and a half years of searching, I had finally found a dojo to train in. Again, I made lots of good friends and found valued training partners. I faced struggles and challenges, not the least were internal as I struggled to balance the realities of a dojo with my expectations. Through karate, I was able to rediscovered myself after a difficult personal relationship that took its toll on my self-esteem and self-value.

Nearly five years have elapsed since I walked into the Hamel dojo. I've spent four and a half years training in Matsumura Shorin Ryu Seito Karate and Kobudo to achieve a sho dan. As my training now once again is shifting towards teaching, I find myself less tolerant of dojo idiosyncrasies and norms. The love of karate and training is still there. The enjoyment in teaching is still there. The challenge of perfection remains.

Unfortunately, the frustration of things I cannot change and deficiencies in my training have called into question my desire to keep training in this dojo. Attending karate class has fallen below a priority threshold and that benefits no one, least of all the students I am often tasked with teaching.

So, as of the beginning of the month, I have ceased training. Karate has been such a big part of my life for so long that I still feel like this is only a break and that I will return to it. First I need to find a different mindset. Maybe I need to try something new for a while. Maybe I need to realize that the benefits of training in a dojo are worth the frustrations. Maybe I need to figure out what I want out of my training and the best way to go about accomplishing it.

I still think about karate every day. I wonder how the students are progressing. I hope the best for the dojo and the black belts I trained with. I miss the clarity in motion and the simplicity of a well-performed kata. However, I know that without taking this time off that I will only become more frustrated and bitter. Some day soon I will pick up my weapons or perform a kata for the love of doing and the connection to something larger. Until then I will try to figure out if I can return to the dojo that is the closest I've found to Legacy Shorin Ryu, if I should find another dojo, or if I should move on.

Regardless of my decision the benefits I have gained through karate and the people who have influenced me will forever be apart of who I am and will be reflected in whatever I do.

Winter dull drums

Last winter was fantastic. There was so much snow that I went snowshoeing almost every weekend. This winter? I've been snowshoeing all of once and cross country skiing once as well. Needless to say there haven't been many outdoor adventure posts lately because outdoor adventures have been few and far between. [image error]

In mid-January, I did get to use my winter hiking boots and crampons again on a repeat hike of Day Mountain, The Triads, and Pemetic. The ice up the east cliffs of Pemetic was particularly interesting. The summit itself was a patchwork of glazed snow and ice mixed with bare rock. It was great fun and took the better part of a day as we added on a hike along the Eagle lake to reach the car. We only lost the trail coming down off of Pementic about five times. I was dead tired by the time we reached Eagle lake, but the sunset was beautiful. 

A few weeks later, we undertook the first Jax hiking/adventure club cross country ski outing by circling Eagle lake. It was a little under 6 miles and took about 3 hours to accomplish. The snow was excellent and the trail recently groomed. The next day it rained.

That's the trade-off of living along the coast. The mild summers are heavenly. The lukewarm winters are just a tease. We've been getting a little bit of winter cold, but without the snow there isn't much going on outside except walking.

And so I've fallen into the winter dull drums. The gym has been my venue for exercise, but even that gets a little boring. Fortunately, I just received my latest issue of Shape magazine with a new workout of the month to try. Tomorrow I'm off to Orono to try out the climbing gym at the University of Maine. The hours of operation aren't the most convenient, but I am itching to climb.

As for writing, I've gone little. There are a few stories I need to finish and countless ones I want to write. I'm just trying not to stress about it. I've got a long way to go before I get published again. It makes me cherish the opportunities I have had. But I want to be better and that takes time and practice.

Camel's Hump (Vermont)

It's the new year, and I've already fallen behind on posting. I'm trying to get a writing schedule going this year. With a little diligence, I should get a post up each week. Here's a hike I did over the holiday break.

The Long Trail is a trail network that stretches from the Canadian border to the Vermont-Massachusetts border. I was treated to a Boxing day snowshoe up a small portion of it consisting of Camel's Hump (4083 feet). We took the Monroe trail (6.1 miles round trip) and it took about 6 hours.

We were lucky enough to have received enough snow to mostly cover all the rocks. Being that this was the first time I'd gone snowshoeing all winter, it was rough going. The first 1.7 miles probably felt the longest even though it is a fairly gentle climb up to the junction with the Dean trail. Of course, we were also breaking trail.

The next 0.8 miles to the junction with the Alpine trail wasn't too bad. Now the next 0.6 miles to the clearing before the summit was brutal and consistently steep. I was drenched in sweat and exhausted by the time we reached the clearing and had lunch. The final 0.3 miles to the cloud enclosed and wind swept summit required a gear change. We exchanged the snowshoes for crampons and grabbed our mountaineering axes. Maybe we looked a little over-prepared.

At the top, there were no views to be had. In fact, the clouds did not part until we were most of the way down. But the accomplishment of my first real witner hike of the season was enough for me. The way back was a lot of fun. We met numerous people on their way up while we were heading to the parking lot. We barely made it back to the parking lot before the sunset.

In all a great and challenging experience. It took about two days to recover from this one. A sleet/rain shower nixed the planned hike up Mansfield. Next time...

 

PS. For the few readers who come across this blog. How is the load time? I'm worried the number of pictures or their size is causing the page to lag. Let me know.

Great Pond Mountain Wildlands

It snowed today! Kind of. We had a smattering of flurries as we set off on our hike. The plan was to explore some of the trail in the Hothole Valley parcel of the Great Pond Mountain Wildlands. It just outside of Ellsworth across the Orland line. The multiuse trails see everything from people walking their dogs to those on horseback. During the winter, the snowmobile trail goes right through the parcel.

We started off at the South Gate, just off Route 1. From there we took the Esker path (1.2 miles), Hillside trail (1.6 miles), Flag Hill road (0.7 miles), Valley road (1 mile), Hothole Pond trail (1.4 miles x2), and returned via the Valley road (3.6 miles). That's a grand total of 10.9 miles in just over 4 hours.

The trails are pretty easy going with a few ups and downs to navigate. The leaves and muddy unfrozen ground added a little challenge. Plus there are many flat roads that are a breeze to travel down. Overall, these are easy to moderate trails.[image error]

There was lots of evidence of wildlife from doe and buck hoof prints to a wide variety of scat. We flushed a handful of partridges from the underbrush. We came across a few beaver ponds. One that looked fresh from this summer and another that was dammed up two feet from the level of the road. With all the beaver activity, we assumed the brown creature waddling ahead of us on the trail was a beaver. As we got closer it was obvious that we were tailing a porcupine.

By lunch time, we reached Hothole Pond and enjoyed something to eat before taking the road all the way back to the car. Funny how much longer it seems walking on a flat road than on a gnarly trail.

Giant Slide/Sargent Mnt/Asticou Trails

It hardly feels like winter with the temperatures we've been having and the lack of snow. Maybe I'm a little anxious for the ski/snowshoe season to start. The shortened daylight has yet to start getting to me, which it usually does right around the time when we turn the corner.

The hike planned for this weekend was up the Giant Slide trail (starting at route 3), crossing over to the north ridge trail of Sargent mountain, down the south ridge trail, the Ampitheater trail, a short section of carriage roads before taking the Asticou trail over to the Thuya Garden where the second car was parked. Total distance was around 7.1 miles and we finished it in 4.5 hours.

It actually isn't too bad of a hike despite the distance and number of trails covered.

The Giant slide trail started out gradual ascent of Sargent Mountain (1373 feet). The moss covered forest floor was still a vibrant green and the stream the trail follows roaring with water from our last rain storm (no snow in sight). It wasn't until about three-quarters of the way up that their were any challenging boulders to hop over or under.

Two summers ago I actually took Bruno up this trail. I had to marvel at how intrepid my dog was in her younger years. He managed to scramble up the rocks along side of me. [image error]

The wet rocks were a little challenging this day. Plus the trail crossed the stream more than enough times to offer plenty of opportunities to soak a boot. I managed to stay out of the water until near the end of the Asticou trail when I almost ended up with a boot full of water.

By the time were started up the North Ridge trail of Sargent, I was huffing and puffing. It felt good to get out into the crisp, fresh air.

Within 1.5 hours of starting out, we reached the summit of Sargent in time for lunch. The sun had broken out of the clouds by this time. I had only been to the top once before and didn't realize how large the summit plateau is.

It was all down hill from there. The South Ridge trail is fairly gentle. There is an interesting intersection near Birch Spring that had us reviewing our map. Then it was onto the Amphitheater trail.

The Amphitheater trail doesn't get a lot of use, especially not the lower section. It offers great views of the rocks on either side (Penobscot Mnt and Cedar Swamp Mnt). Again the trail weaves around a stream with beautiful small waterfalls. A couple of times we almost wandered off the trail, that how in frequently it is used. In a park where most trails are worn down, it was a welcome change. It was almost like exploring. The trail passed under one of the picturesque stone bridges that dot the park.

After a short trek on the carriage roads, we hopped onto the Asticou trail and followed it all the way to the Asticou Map House. This trail had more stairs than I remembered, but the rise is still gentle. It is one of those relaxing trails to take on a hot day when the tree cover would be appreciated. From the Asticou Map House, we followed a road/path up to Thuya Garden. I was more than a bit envious of those fortunate enough to have houses in the area.  Never mind their houses were pretty impressive, but the location is great for walks in the evening.

I love the Thuya Garden. Usually I've visited when the flowers were in full bloom. It was an interesting to see it dormant waiting for spring. In a few months, the flowers will return and bloom again. But not before we get a good, snowy winter. At least that's my hope.

Back to the drawing board

While debating whether or not to trunk Dark Heritage, I decided to seek some advice from an online writing group. First, I passed my query letter around. Then some revised pitch lines. Finally, I submitted the first chapter.

The resounding verdict was that it all needed substantial retooling. I have yet to find a way to pitch my characters that accurately reflects who they are. I have yet to find a way to pitch my plot that doesn't result in a lengthy sentence that loses the reader's interest by the time he or she finishes reading. Then came the blow that my first chapter was nowhere near as attention getting as I wanted it to be.

All the negative comments got me wondering what business I had in trying to produce something of publication quality. I went through the swings of self-doubt, wanting nothing more that to walk away from writing altogether. Melodramatic? Yes, but it comes with the territory.

Among the negative comments there were also grains of encouragements and some suggestions that I actually could use to improve Dark Heritage's pitch and the novel itself.

By this morning, I was re-plotting the first chapter and making a mental list of all the other things that I want to change about the novel. I love these characters and the journey they undertake. Giving up on them before I have really given them a platform on which to shine feels like giving up before I've given it my all.

Editing Spar has been slow, but it will get done one chapter at a time. In the meantime, I will figure out how I can make Dark Heritage the best novel I can write. If no one wants it after that then I will at least say that I did my best.

Trunking a novel

I've had countless story ideas that have never made it to the page. I've got two completely outlined stories yet to be written. I've got several incomplete stories that have been all but forgotten. I even have a few completed novels that will never be edited. Of all the stories I've completed, edited, and submitted, I've never trunked a full novel.

Just in time for Thanksgiving, I received my rejection letter from Carina Press for Dark Heritage. It looked like yet another form letter rejection.

I've tried revamping my query letter. I've done some re-writes and edits on the novel itself. It just isn't finding a home. I love this story and its characters. However, I'm afraid that it just isn't unique enough to get published. 

Now I'm faced with the choice of submitting to another publisher or trunking the novel entirely. There is no shame in putting a novel into that magical writing trunk. I know I can take it out later if I find a suitable publisher. I know that the next thing I write will be better for the lessons I learned writing Dark Heritage. It's just hard to accept that it won't see print, e- or otherwise.

Cadillac Mountain

With the upcoming Thanksgiving weekend looming, the Jax hiking club has a spur of the moment hike last weekend. It was a revisit of Cadillac mountain heading up the south ridge and down the north ridge. This time we had a couple of dogs in the group, including my faithful if troublesome malamute mix.

Bruno's been a little out of commission since last January when he underwent cruciate ligament surgery. Despite a full recovery, he's slipped into couch potato malamute mode. Other than a few long walks around Woodlawn and a visit to Black and Great Pond Mountain earlier in the summer, this was his first challenging hike in a while.

This was also my first hike with a new camera. My little CoolPix has had a good life and is destined for retirement with an intermittent fatal lens error. In its place, I lugged a Nikon D-40 with zoom lens and case along with my ready pack. The pictures were well-worth the extra weight.

Breezy doesn't even begin to describe the conditions along the ridge. By the time we cleared the forest and started our towards the Featherbed, even the dogs were having a hard time walking against the wind.

 

Before long we reached the summit - after a slight detour to avoid the last little rock scramble. Bruno was one tired pup. It's hard to believe that this is the same dog who carried a 12 pound pack just to slow him down a little. Between the dog and my ankle, I suggested we head back down the road instead of the north ridge trail.

After a few bends in the road we hopped back on the trail just in time to scramble down the steep section. It's a more direct route than the road but my ankle wasn't happy by the time we reached the park loop road. Neither was Bruno. The rest of the group ended up walking ahead back to the lab.

The walk back to the lab was a little longer than I'd anticipated. I made the mistake of stopping to take a few pictures of the Great Meadow. Bruno snugged into a ditch to snack on some grass and wasn't about to budge until the car came to pick us up.