WOOF-AH

I am lying face down in a snowy parking lot in the middle of the nowhere, surrounded by a group of bewildered folks in hiking gear and plastic gloves.
"Is she breathing?" one person asks.
A middle aged man in head-to-toe camo leans over me and pretends to check my airways.
"Are you breathing?" he whispers.
"No," I whisper back with a wink.
"Pulse?" he asks.
"Nope." He straightens up and announces this to the group. A patient EMT urges him on, "what's the next step?"
"CPR!" someone responds, and I am unceremoniously flipped over. A pair steps forward and mime CPR over me. I let them carry on for a few cycles then gasp dramatically, and everyone cheers.

Playing Hookie

When I was about thirteen or so my Dad started taking me out of school on St. Patrick's Day to go skiing. This little act of playing hookie is one of my fondest memories. The slopes would be empty because everyone was either in school or otherwise occupied by the holiday, and we would ski to our hearts content then come home with snow-glare sunburns. This was how I learned that playing hookie every now and then is good for your soul.

As the years went on it became harder and harder to take a day off, but this year I revisited that wonderful tradition of playing hookie (thank you, Susan!) and headed up to Western Mass. As MontAnia mentioned in her post she was unable to make it, and her stoke was sorely missed. We'll have to plan something big to make up for it, because a hike without MontAnia is just not the same.

I did, however, bring along a new friend-the wonderful free spirit known to us as Meg.

Meet Meg!

Note: I'm trying out page breaks so hit "read more" to, well, read more. 

On to Plan B

Today, I had plans to meet up with Little Kelly and go hiking in central MA. Unfortunately, I was unable to go (thanks to an over-anxious, hyperventilating, quivering dog, who worked himself up into a full-blown puppy panic/anxiety attack upon entering the car).

Plan B consisted of: walking the pups twice (once in the morning and once in the afternoon); relaxing; drinking tea; yoga; paying my student loans; eating the cookies I had made for the hike.

Meet the Eik dogs: Smokey, Sidney and Annie.

Can't complain, but I missed my Little Kelly! I was so stoked for a real hike and good company. Oh, well...

Where Things Happen on a Big Scale

“I’m not sure what I’ll do, but— well, I want to go places and see people. I want my mind to grow. I want to live where things happen on a big scale.”

― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Ice Palace and Other Stories

Winter Walk (The Lion of March)

There is an old New England saying that March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb. The lion of March has settled it’s icy gaze on this corner of the world. The temperature hovers just below freezing, so that when the wind whips in off the bay it is an assault on your being. I wait until midmorning to take Flix out for a walk, hoping that buying time might also buy us warmth.

We walk quickly to the little hilly park by the bay. A garage down the road has “Echo Bay” painted on it’s front in fading blue letters, and although I’m not sure if that is the actual name of this area that is what I have been calling it in my mind. I’m house and dog-sitting, and this place is refreshing. The tinkling of boats can be heard where the wind is blocked, and it has an echo of summer on this frozen day.

I throw sticks for Flix as we come across them and she chases them with abandon. Most she returns to my feet, but some she immediately rips apart, tearing her head back and forth and sending splinters flying. The universe favors disorder, and apparently so does Flix. The lion of March growls its approval.  

We wander to the top of the rocky hilltop by the parking lot, and continue our game. The silence is broken when a car screeches into the parking lot, a light blue minivan. A woman parks it right in the middle of the lot, and on the bayside a back seat window rolls down. A young girl sticks her head out the window and yells something unintelligible to the ocean; the ocean does not move. She yells it one more time, her voice a snarled mix of scream and cry, then the window rolls up and the minivan moves slowly away. I watch it go, gripping Flix’s leash, then turn my gaze to the ocean. It’s vastness has absorbed the odd moment already, just waves rolling and breaking as ever.

Flix has been leading the way so far but now I steer her to the crumbling boathouse at the mouth of Echo Bay. I feel a kinship to this patched home of boats. Flix and I stand at the railing that marks the boundary between concrete and ocean and I watch a flock of birds floating on the water. They are diving in and out of the bay, moving quickly about some business. The Lion growls and the wind turns sharper, and I turn away from the bay and head towards my temporary home. Flix strides obediently at my side, and although she does not show it when I reach down her fur is cold. We pick up the pace and retreat home, out of the den of the lion, at least for now.

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Tonight as I polish these thoughts from last week I pause my music for a moment because something sounds different. It’s raining, driving rain, the rain that announces itself intrusively. It’s the very rain that cancelled the hike MontAnia and I had planned for today, but I can’t help but enjoy it. After the long silence of winter the North East is waking up again. I can almost hear the sounds of future camp fires popping, loons calling, and leaves crunching beneath boots between the rain drops. I’m sure the lion of March is only catnapping, but the smell of wet earth is welcome tonight. 

All photo creds to MontAnia

Willard Pond & Bald Mountain: Southern NH's Little Gems

When people think of hiking in New Hampshire, the first mountains that come to mind are typically the following: Mt. Washington, Mount Moosilauke, Chocorua, and many other of the White Mountains that dominate central part of the state. Mount Monadnock might even make the cut.

The majority of hikers seek a challenge and an even bigger reward. Most are peak-baggers; many are working on tagging all 48 of the 4,000+ footers; some are working on the 52 with a view list.

The southern portion of the state doesn't have the same reputation as it's northern counterpart. Rather than being home to remote, wild, and rugged mountains, the southern portion is full of smaller hills, monadnocks and drumlins. That is not to say the hiking is inferior. In fact, I am surprised by the numerous hiking and walking trails in the surrounding area. State parks/forests, conservation areas, wildlife sanctuaries/refuges dot the landscape.

Southern New Hampshire is also home to several long distance hiking trails, including: the Wapack trail, the Monadnock-Sunapee Greenway, the Sunapee-Ragged-Kearsarge Greenway, and the northern terminus of the Metacomet-Monadnock trail.

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Willard Pond from the Tudor trail: Sunshine and 52 degrees. 

Yesterday, Zinn and I explored an area known as dePierrefeu-Willard Pond Wildlife Sanctuary. Owned by the NH Audubon, this sanctuary straddles the towns of Hancock and Antrim, NH. The 1,500+ acres are home to Willard Pond, Goodhue Hill and Bald Mountain. 

The trails were well labeled and easy to follow.

Mt Monadnock: Little Mountain, Big Views!

At 3,165ft, Mount Monadnock is the 2nd most climbed mountain in the world. 

Henry David Thoreau on Monadnock: "Those who climb to the peak of Monadnock have seen but little of the mountain. I came not to look off from it, but to look at it. The view of the pinnacle itself from the plateau below surpasses any view which you get from the summit. It is indispensible to see the top itself and the sierra of its outline from one side.... It is remarkable what haste the visitors make to get to the top of the mountain and then look away from it."

This is MontAnia Rocking the World

Congrats MontAnia, for finally getting the recognition your badass lifestyle and beautiful photography deserves! No, I'm not crying, I just have a snowflake in my eye.

It's March and it's still snowing... Hooray!

This winter seems to be endless. I've heard people say they're sick of it and can't wait for spring to be here. Personally, I can understand the trials of a long winter, and even I find winter to be cold, harsh, and grey at times. But more importantly, I think winter is beautiful.

Bodhi: The Perfect Hiking Buddy

Sometimes, four legs are better than two.