Sunday, February 27

Appalachian Trail Retrospective - Headline News...

Shortly after I got back to Maine that fall, the local paper, the Boothbay Register, wanted to do a little article about me.  The following article appeared on November 9th, 2000:

Will Waterstrat Completes Appalachian Trail Hike - By Robin Beck

He went through four pairs of shoes, lost at least 60 pounds and lived on noodles and frosting, but Will Waterstrat of Boothbay Harbor finished hiking the Appalachian Trail in good time. 
     He covered the 2,167.1 miles of trail from Mt. Katahdin in Maine to Springer Mountain in Georgia in four months and eight days.
     When Will, 18, started the long hike in June, soon after graduating highschool, he wasn't in the best shape possible; he overdid it, got dehydrated and pulled some muscles.  After hiking 300 miles through Maine he came home for a week in July to rest, rehydrate and recharge.
     A month later, having picked up where he left off and armed with Gatorade powder, he got into great shape and was hiking briskly about eight hours a day.  By the end of the journey he was actually looking forward to hills.
     "I got pretty efficient," he says.  "I was not tired at all."
     Waterstrat carried a 35-pound pack with tent, sleeping bag, foam pad, tarp, stove, water jug and filter, food, raincoat and a change of clothes.  Finding it much easier to sleep in the trail shelters than set up his tent every night, he soon sent the tent home.
     One of the first challenges he faced was the 100-mile wilderness from the border of Baxter State Park to Monson, Maine.  A sign at the start of that part of the trail cautions hikers:
          It is 100 miles south to the nearest town at Monson.  There are no places to obtain supplies or help until Monson.  Do not attempt this section unless you have a minimum of 10 days of supplies and are fully equipped.  This is the longest wilderness section of the entire A.T. and its difficulty should not be underestimated.
     He finished that part of the trail in six days and later encountered one of the most difficult sections along the entire trail in Mahoosuc Notch in southern Maine, a mile of large rocks to scale and caves to squeeze through.
     "The terrain was hardest here in Maine, but it was rockiest in Pennsylvania," he says, "--flat and rocky there while it was hilly and rocky here and in New Hampshire."
     He encountered a lot of rain during his walk through the country -- eight solid days of rain in Shenandoah National Park in Virginia.
     "So I didn't get to see much there," he says.
     "The worst time, and the hardest rain, was in New Jersey.  There were floods and a lot of thunder and lightning.  I was on a mountain and lightning struck close by and shorted out my watch," he says.
     Ironically, the more south he progressed, the colder the weather became.  There was a cold snap in the Smokey Mountains of North Carolina and Tennessee, one of the highest elevations on the trail.
     "It was 15 degrees at night, and there was snow and ice.  I was really cold (my sleeping bag is only rated for 40 degrees), and my water froze," Will says.
     On a few occasions when he came to a town he stayed in a hostel and ate a meal at a restaurant.  But most of the time he lived on Ramen noodles, macaroni and cheese, and Little Debbie snacks.
     "I ate a lot of those," he says.  "I'd also buy a can of frosting and eat it," he adds, a trick he learned from other hikers to get a sugar fix for quick energy.  He also ate cans of tuna for protein, but mostly it was high-calorie food he was after.  Every now and then he would accept offers of food from day hikers who had brought too much food with them.  But a rancid turkey sandwich made him sick and kept in a shelter for three nights.  
     "After that I was more careful about what I took from people," he says, smiling.
     Other than that and his initial health problem, he fared well, becoming stronger and faster as the days passed.  At 6'5", the speedy Will hiked alone for most of the trip, meeting up with other hikers at night at the rustic lean-to shelters.

     "There was only one guy who could keep up with me; we hiked together for a few days and I got to know him.  I met a couple of people I'll keep in touch with;  there are others I wish I had gotten the addresses of," he says.
     He arrived at Springer Mountain on October 19th, completing the entire 2,167.1-mile trail.
     Instead of feeling elated, he says, "I was kind of sad when I got there.  I got all sentimental because it was all I had been doing for the past four months and suddenly it was over.  Now I miss it.  I wish I were still out there.  I probably should have just turned around and walked back home!"
     His parents, Paul and Janet Waterstrat, drove down to pick him up and stop to see his twin brother Ford at college in Kentucky on the way.
     "It took us only two and a half days to drive the same route home that too me four months to cover," he says.  "When we got to a spot where the trail crosses I-81, I recognized it.  I had crossed it two months earlier; that was weird.
     "Now I appreciate technology, how much faster things are in a car, and all the things we take for granted, like drinking water -- you don't have to work to get it."
     What did he think about all those days on the trail?
     "I was usually focused on hiking," he says.
     Asked what's next for him, he says he'll work around here for a while, go out to visit his older brother in Seattle, and then go to college next fall - where or for what kind of study, he doesn't know yet.
     He says sheepishly, "I was supposed to figure that out on the hike."

Saturday, February 26

What's old is new again...

You may remember my nifty Willits 29er frame getting weird rust issues and cracking this past summer.  That was a pretty big bummer, especially since I don't have money to buy a new frame at the moment (never realized weddings cost so much!).  However, I was never able to sell the Salsa frame that the Willits replaced, and I still had the wheels and forks to make it work.  So it's back to the Salsa for the foreseeable future.  Nothing wrong with that, I always liked the way it rode.  It just feels a bit small to me now, but I can get used to that.  Here's the Willits last Spring:
And here's what happened to it:

Here's the good ol' Salsa back at Southfarm (at Mississippi State University) in 2006:

And here it is now, laying on my living room floor, anxiously awaiting Spring:
Unlike the Willits, the disc mount on this one has a brace, so hopefully it won't crack there again (though I blame that on the internal rust).

Enough about bikes though.  Despite that little warm spell a week or so ago, Spring is a looooong way off.  After that weekend, the temperature got back in to the negatives, and yesterday we got about a foot of snow.  I can't believe I fell for it.  So lately, it's been back to XC skiing.  As long as I've been XC skiing (since I got frustrated I couldn't ride in winter in Maine), I've wanted to learn how to skate ski.  It's much faster, and honestly, it just looks cool.  I've always struggled with it for some reason, and I usually blamed my equipment.  When I first started learning, I was using some garage sale skis my folks gave me.  They worked well enough for classic skiing, but the didn't seem to bit well when I tried to skate.  I eventually got a pair of Fischer Explorers, which are sort of backcountry XC skis.  They are waxless and have metal edges.  I was convinced the metal edges would give me the grip I was after.  Well, fast forward 5 years or so, and I'm still struggling to skate on those skis.  Since I still have those original garage sale skis around, I decided I'd give them another chance.  Besides, there's been so much snow this winter, my ungroomed route has been more like snowshoeing anyway.  So I set off on the old skis, and wouldn't you know it, I could skate with them better than I've ever skated before!  It was a revelation!  I'm not sure why, but those skis worked much better for skating now that I've had some experience.  They're a bit narrower, and a bit taller underfoot, which I think give me the ability to edge the ski better and get that grip I was after.  Anyway, I'm super stoked that I gave those old skis a second chance.  Good times.  Here's a comparison... "New" skis (Fischer Explorer):

Old Skis (Jarvinen ???):

Last but not least, here's a video from out on the reservoir on a cold, windy, but clear and beautiful day:
(By the way, the blaze orange hat is so the snowmobilers can see me better on the mile or so that I'm on that track before I get down to the lake.)



Saturday, February 19

Two days of Spring.

The weather has been such a tease lately!  It was in the mid-40's on Thursday, and mid-50's yesterday.  Deep down, I knew this was just a tease, but I got really excited anyway.  I took the bike off the trainer, put the knobbies and fenders back on, and got the mountain bike out of the storage closet.  Chrissy took time to wash off the truck, etc.  It was warm and sunny enough Thursday afternoon, that I came home to find Chrissy and Katherine sitting in lawn chairs, out in 2 feet of snow.  Kind of a weird juxtaposition, but I shortly joined them.  Yesterday, I went out for my first outdoor ride of the year.  Did a nice out-and-back ride that's about half dirt road.  Some of the dirt road sections were too soft to ride.  If it was shady enough, the ice was still frozen, so although it was firm enough to ride, it was pretty slippery.  Great to get outside anyway!  Of course, I woke up this morning to 21 degrees and 4 inches of fresh snow.  Oh well, another couple weeks is hopefully all Winter has got left.










Monday, February 7

Willapa of all trades, continued.

I remembered what I originally wanted to say a few posts ago before I got side-tracked by talking about gear.  It's not so much the stuff that gets in the way, it's me.  I find myself interested in so many different things, it's been hard for me to focus on one and get really good at it.  Cycling is a good example.  When I was younger, it (and soccer, and trumpet) was my primary recreational activity.  My brothers and spent pretty much all our free time riding bikes, working on bikes, building trails to ride our bikes, etc.  My natural physique would only get me so far as a racer, but I was pretty good back in those days.  These days, my attention is spread out over more things, so I dedicate less time to cycling (although still plenty).  It's something I do for fun now, nothing competitive.  Although, when I'm riding and see someone ahead of me, it's game on! 
So now I'm spreading my time across a lot of different activities - cycling, hiking, canoeing, fishing (usually combined with canoeing), caving, photography (combined with everything), chasing insects, amphibians, and reptiles and on and on.  What I'm getting at is that I do a lot of different things, but I'm not REALLY good at any of them.  I'm pretty good at most of them, but I'm not focused enough on one thing to get REALLY good.  For example, I love fishing.  I go fishing all the time in the summer, but I rarely actually catch anything.  When I do, it's usually something small.  I went fishing this summer with Chrissy's cousin Austin, who is totally focused on fishing, and he caught all sorts of fish and showed me some new things.  He'd never fished on that lake before, but he was pulling out all sorts of fish right off the bat.  Why can't I do that?
Same sort of thing with cycling and skiing.  I do both quite a lot in their respective seasons, but not enough to become really good.  With cycling, it's mostly a matter of putting in the miles.  I've got the bike handling skills, I just don't have the fitness to move my fat ass around as fast as I wish I could go.  With skiing, I blame my technique.
Anyway, the point of all this is that I think I need to focus on fewer things so I can get better at them.  Not necessarily because I want to be competitive at any of it, it's just more enjoyable sometimes if you're better at it.  So there it is... which of my interests should I eliminate?  I've been thinking about it and I can't really come up with a good reason to abandon any of them.  What to do...

On a completely unrelated note, we had a thunder-snow storm the other day.  It was the weirdest thing.  It had been dumping snow for a few hours (at night) and all of a sudden I started to hear thunder and see lightning.  The temperature got warmer as the storm moved along, so it must have been a warm front pushing up against the backside of a cold front, forcing the warm air up and over the cold, causing massive uplift, and therefore a thunderstorm.  Kind of the opposite of how it usually happens (an advancing cold front forces uplift of the warm air ahead of it).  At least that's my meteorological interpretation based on a meteorology class freshman year of college...

Sunday, February 6

Quinzhee

I've always wanted to become a bit more competent as a winter outdoorsman.  I've tried winter camping a few times, and I pretty much always freeze my ass off.  After watching Nanook of the North again (one my favorite movies ever, watch it if you haven't seen it) I thought about the possibility of trying to build an igloo to try out.  After reading up on it a bit, and getting some tips from a coworker who grew up in northern Minnesota, I came to the conclusion an igloo was out of the question.  You have to have really hard, wind-packed snow to be able to cut blocks out of.  The rule of thumb is it has to be hard enough that you can walk on it and not sink in.  That never happens around here, even out on the reservoir.  However, it turns out there's a similar shelter that doesn't require such hard snow.  It's called a "quinzhee" (pronounced sorta like Quincy).  Armed with a basic understanding of how to build one and a good location in mind, I set off with an oversize snow shovel on my skis, out to my usual XC ski spot, the Waterbury Reservoir.
The north end of the Waterbury Reservoir.  Don't worry, the ice is about a foot thick (and the snow about 3 feet), and they lower the level about 10 feet in winter, so the ice I'm skiing on is actually resting on the bottom anyway.  I don't ski on the places where the ice is floating over deep water, even though it's probably safe.  I'm always out there alone, so I don't want to take any chances.  Lots of snow lately means I have to keep re-breaking in the "trail".  There only seems to be one other person who goes out there, but I've never seen him/her.

The shovel was a bit unwieldy in the woods before I got out to the reservoir, but once out there, it was no problem.  It'd be really nice to have one of those backcountry avalanche sort of shovels, but this one worked well enough.
Overkill snow shovel on my back...

Anywho, the spot I had in mind was around the backside of one of the points on the reservoir.  It's only visible once you round a certain corner, and that's a ways out there.  I don't think the other person who skis out here will mess with it.
So yes, a quinzhee... very simple to make, but quite time consuming for one person to do.  First, you pack down an area of snow about twice the size of the footprint of your shelter.  The snow was several feet deep, so I had to whack it with the shovel over and over until it was firm enough to not be a pain in the ass to stamp it down with my skis.  Once you're satisfied with that, you start building a really big pile of snow, and pack it down as you go.  By the end of this part, it should look something like this:
Quinzhee construction, Part 1 - build a big ass pile of compacted snow.  185cm ski for scale.

After you've gotten that far, it needs to sit for an hour or so, so the snow will compact itself a little more.  Putting good old gravity to work!  Also, it got a bit above freezing while I was doing this, which helped a lot.  Previously, the snow we've gotten was quite powdery, which doesn't stick together at all.  While I was waiting, I skied further on to the point where Chrissy and I often camp in the summer time.  There's one hairy section where the only way to get around a point is to traverse a 45 degree slab of snow covered ice.  That's where I usually turn around and call it good.  However, the mystery skier had gone beyond here (looks like he/she had taken their skis off to do so), so I continued on.  Here's a photo from our usual summer spot:
Looking south from our favorite campsite (near where Cotton Brook enters the reservoir) in February.
And just for fun, here's pretty much the same photo from this fall:
Same spot as above photo, taken in the fall (obviously).

After killing about an hour to get to that spot and back, I returned to the site to begin Part 3, hollowing it out.
That's one fine looking pile of snow.
I'd heard some good tips for evenly carving out the inside.  One, stick a ski pole down vertically from the apex, so you know from the inside where you are.  Two, insert a bunch of 6" sticks into the walls.  As you hollow it out from inside, you know you don't want to get any thinner if you get to one of those sticks.  Other than that, it's just a matter of digging out the inside of the pile.  This is where a smaller shovel would have been really helpful.  It was hard to maneuver that big thing while inside (that's what she said!).  Hollowing out took a lot less time than piling it up, and it was much more fun.  I basically moved that whole pile of snow twice!
Nearly done now.

I made the entrance south-facing, since the wind usually comes from the north out on the reservoir.  Also, that direction had the best view!  The snow that was removed from the inside was used to beef up the outside some more and build some walls along the entry, to keep out the wind.  After jamming in my ski pole in a few places to make ventilation holes, it was time to go inside and try it out.
Plenty of space for two people inside.  A bit dark, but that's to be expected.  I kept the walls a lot thicker than they needed to be, since I want this to last a week or so.  These are usually only used once then abandoned.  More of an emergency shelter than a long term habitation.

The finished product.  Can't wait to try sleeping in it.  Definitely will be warmer than a tent!

Thumbs up for my first quinzhee.  We'll see how it works out.

That's quite a long-winded post for piling up a bunch of snow and hollowing out the interior, but I thought some of you might be interested.  I'll follow up if I end up camping in it.  Thanks for reading.

Background picture.

Sparrow Farm, Montpelier, Vermont.

Saturday, February 5

New Layout

What do you think?  Too much green?  Penny for your thoughts...

Wedding Stuff.

Hey, by the way, I've created another blog to keep track of wedding related stuff.  See HERE.
Since I started this blog almost 6 years ago, the design elements have gotten a lot easier to use.  It might be time to redo the layout for this one.  Stay tuned...

Thursday, February 3

Willapa of all trades?

Lately I've gotten to thinking... I've got way too much stuff.  I don't just mean the usual house and furniture stuff that makes me restless.  I've got too much of the stuff I love to have around.  I mean gear of course.  Since being out of the nest, I seem to have accumulated gear for just about every pursuit I do, and in some cases, a lot of it.  There are some hobbies I'll never give up on, and won't get rid of related gear no matter what.  Other things seem to have been a passing fancy that I don't do much anymore.  So what to do?  Keep the gear, or get rid of it?  If I keep it, I can always pick it up later if I feel so inclined.  If I get rid of it, I'll have to shell out a bunch of money if I ever decide to give it another go.  If I do the latter, I'll probably take up another hobby to fill the void, so this is probably pointless in terms of reducing my gear pile.  Some feedback on the following gear would be much appreciated.  Or just writing this out might be enough thinking about it to make up my own mind.  We'll see...

Bike stuff - Two working bikes, a couple frames and projects, a boatload of parts, tires, etc.  Not to mention a repair stand, a trainer, and enough tools to operate my own bike shop.  Not getting rid of the tools, trainer, repair stand, or working bikes.  What about the rest of it?  Much of it is parts for bikes I'll probably never be able to afford to build...

Caving stuff - This gear is limited, so it's a no brainer.  However, I haven't gotten to do much caving lately, so why am I hanging onto it.  I have some custom made coveralls that fit only me.  I've worn them once.  Other than that, I've got a helmet and a bunch of lights, but these have other applications, so I'll hang onto it.

Canoes - I currently have two.  A Mad River Explorer all around sort of tandem boat.  Good for lakes, fishing, and even some moderate whitewater.  Don't think I'll get rid of this since I got such a good deal on it, and I use it ALL the time in the summer.  However, I also have a bad-ass whitewater canoe.  I think this is one of the things I can get rid of.  I had high hopes of getting into whitewater paddling, since there is some to do around here.  I don't know why I chose a canoe, since I've always been a kayaker.  I guess I wanted to try something different.  I took it on a few floats down the Winooski and spent a bunch of time last winter learning to roll it in a pool.  I haven't done any real whitewater with it.  For one, it's not wise or practical to go alone.  Secondly, I don't know what I'm doing.

Fishing Gear - This is sort of a revived passion for me.  I loved fishing when I was a kid, and I've rediscovered it the past couple years.  So far, this rediscovered activity has seen me acquire 4 different rods (2 spin rods, 1 baitcasting, and a flyrod) and a meager amount of tackle.  This is relatively inexpensive and doesn't take up much space, so I'll hang onto it.  I just have to keep from accumulating too much!  More gear does not equal more fish.

Camping/backpacking stuff - I've accumulated quite a bit of this stuff over the years.  It all gets used though.  Well, a pack or two doesn't get used, my beloved tent has a broken pole, and my old sleeping bag is shot.  But I'm still happy with it.

XC ski stuff - I still have the original hand-me-down broken ass skis I learned to XC ski on at UMaine.  Why?  I have better boots now and I haven't touched the skis in years.  The skis I have now are fine (though they desperately need to be waxed) and my boots are holding up well too.  Keep breaking poles though...

I guess it's not that bad.  Just seems like a lot of stuff to me.  I ought to go through all my bike junk and give away what I can, then take the rest to the local recycle cycle sort of place. 
That was pretty pointless.  Hmph.