Sticks And Stones.... and Broken Bones

We had long standing plans to get up into the White Mountains to do end-of-season biking, so we booked reservations at the Appalachian Mountain Club’s Joe Dodge Lodge in Jackson, NH. It is quite a beautiful construct in the fashion of an old time post and beam bunk house from the Civilian Conservation Corps’ heyday, with hall ways and bunk rooms of lacquered pine. The lodge is simple and rustic, yet modernized with showers and toilets, quite library, and a large gathering room with fireplace. The rooms are neat as a pin, but there are no televisions or internet connections since the idea is to encourage the visitor to get out and explore the outdoors. One of many lodges created and maintained by the Appalachian Mountain Club, the Joe Dodge Lodge is named after the original caretaker of the Pinkham Notch Visitor Center that serves as the New Hampshire headquarters for the AMC, and it sits neatly on the southbound side of Route 16. We arrived at a little after 3:30 on Friday afternoon.

This photo of Joe Dodge Lodge is courtesy of TripAdvisor

Our room was a cozy affair with double bed and gorgeous wood paneling, lit modestly with a small incandescent lamp on bedside stand. The single draped window to one side of our bed looked out to the rear of the lodge, and we could see the beginning of the winding Tuckerman Trail that will take the adventurer to Tuckerman Ravine a little more than four miles up into the lower approach to Mt. Washington. The Ravine is the real deal for back country exploration and can be quite dangerous because of the fickle weather conditions to be found around Mount Washington. It’s something of a rite of passage for advanced skiers and riders to get up into “Tucks” or “The Bowl” and test their skills on the natural run outs that lace down from various points on a 270 degree arc along the rim of the bowl. The gradient steepens as one climbs from the floor to the top, with the vertical pitch reaching nearly 60 degrees in some places near the rim. This writer will attest from personal experience that 60 degrees feels and looks like 90….and one gets up to the rim by crawling on splayed out hands and feet like a bug to keep from falling backward and tumbling to the bottom.  Once up onto the rim of the bowl, the adventurer can look around at the spectacular vista of a natural glacial cirque, and the (often) snow capped top of Mt. Washington looming up from behind. Then the adventurer has to overcome his/her brain that is screaming fear at the thought of descending what looks like 600 feet of dead vertical wall. Any attempt to ski down from just under the rim means taking one’s skis off from shoulder strap to gingerly step into bindings one boot at a time in knee-high cascading snow and ice chunks, while balancing against gravity's intent to pull the body backward off the wall. The experience defies further description.

But this was not our destination for Saturday, as we had plans to bike the Great Glen trails near Jackson. It wasn’t until we were checking in that we received the disappointing news: Great Glen trails were closed for the season the weekend before. With that we drove down into North Conway to inquire about other possible biking trails in the area. We stopped at a local bike shop and learned that just a couple miles down the road was what we were looking for in the valley: a network of double and single track lines called Sticks And Stones. We bought a map and drove out to the trail network to take the lay of the land.

Given the fact Sticks And Stones is just outside the main drag of North Conway's center, there was a surprising feeling of solitude and remoteness to the relatively compact trail system. We hoofed our way over a part of the network called the “Pudding Pond Loop” named after a small body of water and marsh in the center of the loop. We were pleasantly surprised to see the lush trees still hung on to their mantles of yellow, fluttering in the gentle breeze like celebratory banners under glimmering rays lancing through the boughs. The coloration about us as we tramped along a leafy path in silence was sublime magic. We didn’t stay long though because the sun was already low on the horizon and we did not want to have to find our way out in the chill twilight of a mid autumn evening.

Once back at the lodge we were content to simply relax in our room and wait for the family style diner to be served in the dining hall across the small esplanade separating it from the lodge. Dinner was hearty, as all meals are at AMC lodges. The high carb fare consisted of ravioli, homemade bread, salad, and some really great homemade pies. All of it quite delicious, but the Spanish rice served in a goulash of tomato sauce, Parmesan cheese, and spinach was fantastic. We washed it all down with a local brew (for him) and white wine (for her) from a funky little “packy” down the highway. After dinner and an in-house movie about an expedition to Everest we retired to the gentle ambiance of our little room. The bed could have been made of down piling; luxurious and comfy. It was so comforting that sleep didn’t take long to arrive.

This photo of Joe Dodge Lodge is courtesy of TripAdvisor

We woke to a pink tinted sunrise, and dressed as quickly as we could when we realized we slept until 8:00. Breakfast in the dining hall would end at 8:30! No better way to power up than with a stack of hefty pancakes. The conditions were brisk so we knew we would have to dress in layered gear, but the gathering of dark gray clouds on the southwestern horizon gave us some concern. Back at the equipment shop adjacent to the dining hall we learned that the forecast was calling for heavy snow to roll in by late afternoon. We knew we were going to have to get our ride in early, but were uncertain if we should leave for home ahead of schedule or stick it out until late Sunday. Circumstances would soon dictate the course of action.

The quality of Pudding Pond Loop is packed dirt with a covering of leaves that makes for a relatively soft ride. Due to recent flooding some parts were inaccessible, but the locals made a bypass route that turned out to be a very interesting and challenging single track obstacle course. In more than a few places we had to cross gang planks over water or wend our way over tight switch backs lumped up with rocks and tree roots. It’s a funny thing about riding over a 10 inch wide plank. If it were placed directly on the ground, and an average rider were asked to ride over it without steering off, it could be done with little trouble or hesitation. But elevate that plank 1 foot above the ground and the whole mentality changes. And so it is with crossing a plank over water. The prospect of falling off becomes so overriding that that is exactly what will happen unless the rider stays absolutely focused. This was not lesson time for Evangeline so we walked our bikes over each water pass.

After completing the Pudding Pond Loop and finding ourselves near our start point we saw another trail off to one side that we were sure led off into the Sticks And Stones network. Sitting right in the middle of the entrance way like a sentinel was a good size boulder with a rectangular stone leaning up against it. The boulder was no doubt a natural part of the topography, but the ramp was definitely placed there to make a “booter” as we call it: a way to get a little air time. And the decision of this writer to take advantage of that opportunity turned out to be unwise. The trail was wet from rain and dew, as was the stone ramp and boulder. The approach was slower than required to get enough momentum to carry up and over the ramp, so it turned out to be a climb. The climb stalled near its apex when the rear wheel spun on wet rock, leading to both wheels slipping off the side of the ramp and boulder. The rider pitched to the side, and upon planting his left foot on the ground with the falling momentum of a four foot drop, promptly dislocated the knee to the inside with a symphony of popping, cracking, and crunching. The leg very nearly folded under butt in the course of the fall, but the strength of a panicked effort managed to yank the leg out before completely pancaking into the shape of a paper clip. This was supposed to be a photo opportunity so Evangeline took a sequence of rapid fire photos…God bless her…right down to, and including, the rider writhing on the ground clutching his knee and screaming like a banshee.

Once light and the surroundings came back into the field of vision the first decision was to get the hell out of there. So we hobbled as best as we could by leaning on bike. Occasional screams punctuated the air every time the bad leg stubbed on the uneven surface.  The F-bombs surely dispersed the fauna far and wide. And then a funny thing happened. We got lost. One is reminded of the spoof rockumentary “This Is Spinal Tap” where the band is down in the catacombs of some old music hall in Cleveland and they try to get on stage to begin their concert, only to repeatedly find their course wending back to the boiler room. That was us. Over an hour later we crawled out the half mile distance back to our car. The whole ordeal was further compounded by the unfortunate circumstance of our vehicle being a standard with a clutch. Evangeline does not know how to drive a standard. Anyway, we got back to the lodge and she packed up our stuff and threw it in the car. We sped off and into the snow storm on our way home.

Back in Lowell, we wait on the eventual clearing up of a blood clot in the bad leg, healing of a ruptured medial collateral ligament and cracked tibia. Other possible issues are not yet known, but we remain positive. We look forward to a great bike season next year, and no more jumps.

October Playtime

October has to be the quintessential New England month. Crisp air, an orange afternoon sun hanging low on the horizon, and of course, the riot of colors the trees adorn themselves with in their own coming out party of the year, made the day today a refreshing and restorative salve for the soul. It does not get any better folks; take this from a west coast boy who had the blue sky beach days of southern California available virtually every day to do outdoor activities without having to think about how the weather might affect plans.

If you are one of the many local mountain bikers you may already know about Harold Parker State Forest. Sprawling across 3500 acres of forest between the communities of Andover, North Andover, and Lawrence, HPSF is, in this writer’s estimation, one of the best playgrounds Massachusetts has to offer for technical riding in the suburbs. A fellow mountain biker told me about the effort and loving care committed local riders have invested to sculpt and clear interesting and imaginative single track trails that loop, intersect, and branch out in a labyrinthine web to offer an almost limitless variety of riding enjoyment. Many of these trails are criss-crossed with exposed tree roots and sprinkled with embedded rocks of various shapes and sizes. More than a few are complimented with amusing man-made water crossings. Several runs require at least upper Intermediate to Advanced skills to deal with rocky ridgelines, log hops, and drops. I have yet to navigate any of the advanced trails without clipping out or dumping at least once. The prospect of tumbling over a tangle of roots and rocks has encouraged me to invest in body armor. I look like an extra out of Mad Max. I should also mention that I love my new bike: a Kona “Tanuki Delux” dual suspension rig. Fun, fun, fun.

I regret not having a camera to photograph the beauty of today’s ride, and the intimate vistas of still ponds reflecting peach and lemon colors, but the technical nature of most of the trails does not allow for anything but the most essential on-board supplies. Evangeline was not able to join me, but I would not have brought her on today’s route since her bike is a hard frame, and suspension is a must to be able to navigate the obstacles.

At the moment I am savoring the day’s ride with my feet on a hassock and a tumbler of marvelous Irish whiskey chilled over crushed ice while enjoying the televised spectacle of the International Rugby championship match between New Zealand and France. The pre-game “Haka” ritual the “All Blacks” of New Zealand performed to their opponents was quite the show. Evidently it’s a traditional ancestral war challenge of the indigenous Maori people of New Zealand, and has been co-opted by the national rugby team that has had many Maori players over the years. The whole display sent chills down my back. The direct violence of the game has a certain visceral appeal, and it is interesting to note that the rules do not allow a player to leave the game unless he is unconscious or has a bone poking through flesh. The folks playing under the FIFA banner could take a few pointers here. I guess the pressure is on New Zealand since they haven’t won it all for a long time. I’m rooting for them.

Zen Baby

Eve got back recently from a two week stay with our oldest daughter Christina and her husband Alaa to help with our newborn grandson Alexander Nicholas. Although Eve’s return home was something of an adventure, her stay in Pennington, NJ will always be a highlight experience.

Pictures tell so much. Alexander has a tranquility that suggests a very old soul is comfortably ensconced in his little body. Oh, he fusses like any other baby when hungry or in need of a change, but for the most part seems to observe the world about him with a serene happiness that projects one word: Zen. He’s the Zen Baby. At least one person here wants to know if his vibe is contagious, because after the tyranny of workday life, responsibilities in general, and wild card events like a busted train schedule, we tend to feel like our hair is on fire much of the time.


Tranquility must be contagious. Look at this picture. “Yia Yia Litsa” and Alexander Nicholas.

Here is Zen practicing his chill rapper style:

We are very fortunate to have such a lovely baby enter our life and family. Have a wonderful life in great Health, Wealth, and Happiness kiddo.

Come along....

Weekend Getaway

Has it really been four months since we last wrote to Moonlight Mile? Hm. We were busy as heck through the spring and did not realize the season was racing by without a post to this blog.  Anyway, our summer kicked off nicely this past Father's Day weekend. We went to a concert down in Cape Cod, and took the opportunity to go for a bike ride along the Cape Cod Rail Trail.

We arrived late Friday afternoon at our motel in Dennis and promptly went out for dinner since the doors were going to open at the concert hall before sundown. We shared a nice pre-concert dinner at a comfy restaurant called Oliver’s in Yarmouth.  The motif of the place is along the lines of an old seafarer’s colonial inn. The steak and chicken parm were very good, and we washed it all down with a tasty dark ale called “Old Chub Beer” from a Colorado brewery called Oskar's Blues.

Our friends Gerry McGuire and Lynne Flannery invited us to attend a concert by musician Glen Hansard. If the reader is not familiar with Glen, as we were not, he is the front man for a Dublin-based alternative rock band called The Frames. His sold-out show featured songs from The Frames’ catalogue, and the beauty of his performance revolved around his powerful multi-octave voice, clever lyrics, and excellent musicianship on a beat up six string acoustic guitar. The songs were of personal experiences and observations, but the show was not purely a “folk” set. The guy rocks. If the guitar he held looked like it had been worked over with a ball peen hammer, we know it’s because his playing style is as emotional as what he writes and sings about. The reaction from this writer three songs into his set was to wonder how we could have missed The Frames when they were gaining some notoriety back in the early 90’s. Glen is also known for having co-authored the sound track and starred alongside follow musician Marketa Irglova in the indie film “Once”. We never saw the film but understand it won a Grammy for its soundtrack in addition to an Academy Award for Best Original Song (“Falling”), and an Independent Spirit Award for Best Foreign film.

Glen’s solo concert was held at the Cape Cinema in Dennis. Opened in 1930, it is described in the cinema’s website as "a theater.. deluxe.. designed by Alfred Easton Poor, (Wright Brother's Monument) to [the original owner’s] specifications that it be intelligent and artistic, with its facade modeled on the Congregational Church in Centerville, Mass., and its sides given the appearance of a cow barn.”

The Cinema has a capacity for about three hundred if the upper balcony in back is included, and there isn’t a bad seat in the house. The visitor is given a visual treat overhead with a vast multi-colored mural depicting nudes and other images.

If you like Van Morrison, U2, Hothouse Flowers, and Simple Minds, The Frames might just be your cup of tea. They don’t have exactly the bluesy-jazz influenced sound of Van Morrison, power chords of Bono and company, or the layered production of the more heavily electric Simple Minds, but one can easily recognize the musical quality that is consistent with many artists and groups to come out of Ireland. For the most part The Frames songs are love ballads that hint of melancholy. We have a collection of their songs on a homemade CD Gerry and Lynne were gracious enough to give us that include personal favorites “Perfect Opening Line”, and the gorgeous “Your Face” which has the pace and composition one might identify with an Elvis Costello song. 

We enjoy other bands and solo artists with similar and diverse musical styles, and this list of “driving tunes” is what we had on the car speakers while driving around the Cape:
• Give A Little Bit (Supertramp cover) – The Goo Goo Dolls
• Windows Are Rolled Down – Amos Lee
• Welcome To The Boomtown – David & David
• Weather With You – Crowded House
• Sometimes Always  - The Jesus And Mary Chain
• Orange Sky – Alexi Murdoch
• After Midnight – J.J. Cale
• The Road – Whip Culture
• Tunnel Of Love – Bruce Springsteen
• Into The Fire – Brian Adams
• Short Skirt/Long Jacket – Cake
• Thing Of Beauty – Hothouse Flowers
• Rock ‘N Roll Star – Oasis
• Giving It Back – Matthew Sweet
• Girlfriend – Matthew Sweet
• Evangeline – Matthew Sweet

By the way, for anyone who appreciates acoustic Jazz we give our top recommendation for The Crimson Jazz Trio’s recent release: King Crimson Songbook, Volume One; covers of eight selected songs from the vast catalogue of King Crimson, who are widely recognized to be one of the most accomplished proponents of avante garde music. One might wonder what to expect from a piano/bass/drums jazz combo’s interpretation of “way out there” electrified rock. The feeling here is that this music will please most audiophiles of traditional and modern acoustic jazz, and serve to augment the atmosphere of an evening soiree or relaxed Sunday brunch. Here’s what is included on CJT’s King Crimson Songbook, Volume One, in our preferred order of play:
• Talk To The Wind
• 21st Century Schizoid Man
• Matte Kudesai
• Red
• Three Of A Perfect Pair
• Starless
• Ladies Of The Road
• Catfood

Even though rain threatened Friday evening as we were standing in the que for the concert it held off until we were inside. After that evening’s shower the weather cooperated for the next two days to give us one of the finer weekends we could have wished for this summer, and a very nice  Father’s Day gift. We woke to a partly cloudy and fairly humid Saturday morning, ate a very light breakfast and drove to a parking area in Brewster, one of the many parking areas along the Cape Cod Rail Trail.

We off-loaded the bikes, pumped up the tires, and headed out…in a southerly direction…. four or five miles into Harwich… before we realized we should be going northeast if we wanted to be heading toward Province Town. Duhhh. At least we got to see Long Pond and Pleasant Lake, and a chance to shoot some video of Eve in fine riding form. Too bad the video came out in black and white. Mr. Techie In Charge fat fingered an adjustment on the camera, so we got film noir on a bike.

We doubled back past our starting point in Brewster and continued east. The trail is a really well maintained asphalt path that runs for roughly 30 miles from the northern shore of Dennis out to Maguire Landing on the Atlantic side of Wellfleet. The ride is shaded by overhanging trees on both sides for much of its length, which makes for a comfortable experience on a warm sunny day. There are more than enough places along the way to rest and have something to eat and drink to carry on with a full day trip. The rider is treated to a seemingly infinite variety of calls and trills from countless birds in the bushes and trees while viewing forest, bogs, or wetlands to either side. The path cuts through several residential areas and broad sections of commercial zoning but it manages to provide enough solitude for the rider to crank along while immersed in his/her own thoughts. There are also points of historical interest that are marked by detailed trail signs that tell some story regarding the habitat or native life in early colonial times.

We stopped briefly at Nickerson State Park at the northern edge of Brewster to rehydrate and rest since we had just completed about 15 miles. Nickerson has its own network of trails that total about 8 miles of riding through alternately winding packed dirt single track and paved paths, around the Cliff and Flax ponds. We didn’t bother to explore the park, sensing that we would need all of our energy to get down to the Lower Cape and return without body parts falling off, but we’ve made note to come back someday soon and give it a whirl.

Another several miles further up, and half way through the town of Eastham we stopped at a seafood restaurant right off the path called Arnold’s Lobster and Clam Bar. We made note to stop back for a dinner later in the weekend, but for the time being were content to reward ourselves with ice cream. We continued up through Eastham into Wellfleet and stopped to ask someone the distance to Province Town. When we were told we had another 20 miles to go we decided that we would end this leg of the ride at the Maguire Landing beach in Wellfleet. We stopped to take some pics and watch the surfers for a while. We were treated to a moment of comedic relief by the appearance of the Black Masked Marvel lugging his 8 foot board down the dirt ramp to the water. He didn’t look like the typical surfer dude. The neoprene mask and black ankle socks strapped into Teva's were a dead giveaway.

The one way distance from our start in Brewster to Maguire Landing was roughly 27 miles, including the extra mileage we took into Harwich. Our ride back was just as pleasant as the ride out, but maybe a little more trying as fatigue began to settle in. Our progress back was interrupted by the proverbial chicken crossing the road. Really. On any other day we might have snatched and cooked her she looked so good.

We stopped once again at Nickerson State Park so Eve could check in on our girls; our daughter Stephanie was down in West Virginia somewhere white water rafting. She was cautioned before leaving to NOT see the movie Deliverance. Anyway, we soldiered on through the remainder of our ride. After packing up the bikes and gear we headed back to the motel for a swim in the pool.

Saturday evening we went to a very nice restaurant called Scargo’s in Dennis. It is beautifully appointed but not overly formal, and apparently quite popular. If you’re not seated by 6:30, you go hungry. We sat at a tall bistro table in the cozy bar area and enjoyed nicely prepared meals of baked haddock in a creamy chowder sauce, and a swordfish steak complimented with asparagus and wild rice.

After dinner we drove out to the West Dennis beach to enjoy the sunset and cool evening sea breeze. The beach was practically deserted as we sat for a while on a small wood bench ensconced amongst sand dunes decorated with a riot of wild rose bushes. As the sun went down the ocean breeze picked up to a very cool and steady bluster. We retreated to the car and drove a little ways down the access road to another spot by the shore line where a family was watching their young son expertly fly one of those acrobatic kites on the beach. He was a Ninja with that kite. We watched from the warm confines of the car as he sent the kite soaring, spinning and looping, then stalling it to suddenly dive it at mach speed and bonk his sister on the head, then rocket the thing up and away before she could slap at it.

The fine weather continued into Sunday, so we took the chance to drive down to the Province Town area to ride around Race Point Beach state park. Race Point is a really interesting place; the visitor can enjoy a conifer forest embedded in the sandy and hilly topography of a coastal prominence. At the highest point of elevation there is a visitor center from which one can see practically the entire park from a well placed observation deck. The visitor can get to the deck from an outside stairway or from a staircase that spirals up from the center of the gift shop inside. The park must also host entertainment from time to time because there is a small amphitheater with bench seating near the start of the trail network. Out on the beach there is a structure that serves as the training center for ocean rescue teams. It was closed when we dropped by, but it is probably in service during the summer vacation months.

However, the feature presentation of Race Point is the network of hilly bike trails that will take the rider through winding ascents and descent in an out of tree stands, past ponds dotted with lilly pads, and between broad swatches of sands dunes. What fun! The rider just has to be careful to check speed on downward switchback turns because drifted sand can make for some serious road rash if the bike slides out from underneath. We took some pics and video, with the latter effort posing something of a challenge precisely because of the combination of speed, direction changes, and sand… while holding the camera in one hand and steering with the other.

We have to say the park ride was probably the highlight of our weekend. After exploring all that Race Point had to offer, we packed up and headed back west on Route 6 for our return trip home, but we had to stop at Arnold’s again to enjoy some fine fish and chips!

 

Small Pleasures in Life

Scattered clouds shed a continuous sprinkle of flakes throughout the day, adding a glittering display to cold and crisp conditions. The absence of any wind allowed those delicate crystals to float languidly before settling on branch and trail. Moments of quiet solitude sitting in the chair as it ascended to the top of its destination seemed almost surreal in the presence of all those falling diamonds.

We are grateful for the beauty of the mountains and winter.


Winter finally decided to arrive in 2011. A good amount of snow fell on the mountain this weekend, so conditions were really improved. It was a joy to slide through fluffy powder over a foot deep. The crowd level was fairly high, given the long weekend, but the lift system did a great job of keeping the lines moving. It was never a problem to be going back up the mountain in 2 minutes or less after arriving at the lift from a run. The mountain complex is also large enough to absorb crowds so it is possile to find space and solitude during a run; and even catch a chair alone on one of the lesser used lifts. Skiing with an iPod plugged into helmet earphones allows aural augmentation to the physical thrill of skiing, but at the cost of awareness of others nearby. Having some space is a good thing.

The chateau was loaded with guests and members, so the après ski scene was pretty lively. We have an interesting mix of personalities; there is never any dearth of banter or laughter. A new visitor coming in the door at the end of the day will be greeted by warm incandescent lighting, and small knots of people gathered around the dining table or in the living room, engaged in the chatter of some story or repartee, who will look to immediately greet the newcomer. The friendly and welcoming atmosphere is always augmented by music on the excellent sound system. We are fortunate that there are a lot of audiophiles in the house who love to share and trade music. The diversity of our house music is notable and makes for a special treat when we come up. We are either going to have fun turning somebody on to music they haven’t heard yet, or they are going to be doing the same for us. It’s like having a surprise gift every time one visits here.

The long weekend allows us just that much more time to enjoy the whole vibe. The hot tub is, of course, one of the highlights of our day, and it can sometimes work against any plans to go out on the town. The supreme sense of comfort and relaxation is so alluring that one can lapse into a spell. Last night we sat in the tub with our host and two of our women members, enjoying our drinks of choice, and watching snowflakes drift down through the rising steam to land and melt in the bubbling caldron. We have done this many times before, and the more memorable times include laying back to ponder a sparkling Milky Way on a crystal clear night, or marveling at the staccato movie shutter effect of fast moving clouds racing across the face of an incandescent moon, and the winking glimmer of delicate flakes descending from the sheltering sky. Lovely.

We tore our selves free from the hot tub to get ready to go out for the evening. We drove the hour to Burlington to go to a small night club in the center of the city. It’s called Red Square. The visitor is greeted by a narrow and compact entrance with tall round bistro tables and chairs on the left hand overlooking the windows to the closed café outside, and a long bar with a riot of colored lighting on the right. It has a funky college jazz club feel. We walked in and proceeded to the back of the place, and entered a second seating area with muted red table lighting and comfort chairs. Once past this anteroom we walked through a doorway to the room reserved for the evening’s Latin dance night. A DJ entertained the crowd with a mix of Salsa that kept the crowd animated and the dance floor full. A large screen high up on the far wall played videos of Salsa bands in concerts. We took our time to savor our drinks and people watch. There were some very good dancers out there for sure. We felt good enough to dance for a few songs. Eve looked vivacious in a form fitting turquois knit top trimmed in silver filigree. Her black tights were tucked into dangerous black lamb skin thigh high boots with tasseled zippers. Erik was turned out in the Johnny Cash motif.

After a while we felt the need to eat and headed out and down the street to one of the many college pubs for some rather unhealthy but immensely delicious bar food. It’s so much fun to go out together and just “hang”. We didn’t get back to the chalet until 12:30 PM, and all was quiet. We have one more day to spend at Chateau Relaxeau this weekend. Hmmm, what to do?

Happy New Year!

In commemoration of the New Year we started something “new”: cross country skiing!

We signed up for a package of equipment and lessons at the Von Trapp Lodge in Stowe, VT. Great place to learn an outdoor activity, and enjoy the beautiful mountain scenery. The weather started out cloudy and breezy with unusually warm air temperatures, then cleared up to be the perfect spring skiing type of day. Erik always says “if you are going to learn how to ski, do it in the spring” (when temperatures are warmer and you won’t spend all your time shivering with frozen fingers and toes while listening to the instructor).

As with anything new, the discovery and learning process can be a little bit of a challenge, and involve more than a few pratfalls. But we think we’re going to like this new thing. It feels good, it’s healthy, outdoorsy, and we can do it together while looking sporty in the requisite attire.
Best of all, after slogging through the techniques of the “glide”, the “herringbone climb”, and downhill you-have-no-edges-and-can’t-stop mode, a student of the craft is in the proper frame of mind to justify a flagon of ale after class. Or two. Maybe three, if a yard sale of equipment and clothing was involved at least once.

We joined a class of newbies like us and spent over an hour learning the basics under the tutelage of a very patient instructor. The early bet here was that, with all the Germanic and Nordic types walking around the X-country center, we were going to wind up with someone with high cheeks bones called “Horst”. We had every expectation to hear admonishments on our progress with high volume pointers like “No! You vill not do it DAT vey, but DIS VEY!” “Dum cop!”

As it turned out, our instructor was a grandfatherly guy named Larry. He was pretty good with both of us, as we progressed to the straight forward glide and herringbone climb. If those terms don’t sound familiar let’s just say the glide involves pushing the feet alternately forward, while propelling the body forward with the poles, and using momentum to slide on the forward board. The herringbone is best described as putting your skis in a “V” and tilting the boards to the inside edges with a totally spastic-looking knocked-kneed leg position, to “set” the boards into the snow so as to be able to propel the body up a slope against the forces of gravity and age. This is precisely why Erik took up DOWNHILL skiing…. because a contraption called a “ski lift” does the all the uphill work. It is quite bourgeois, but worth it. Until the lift ticket reaches $100. Then he ditches the sport for X-country entirely.

Anyway, we have a short video here of the pre-class warm up with the lovely Eve in the starring role. We didn’t take pictures or video of our class antics, but we’ll save those for next time once we have a little more proficiency.

OK, roll 'em!