My good friend Dana just finished hiking the entire Long Trail last week. Congratulations Bud! You deserve a cold Long Trail Ale (or several!).

It's been a nine-year odyssey for Dana that began in 1995. That's the year the two of us hiked 200 miles of the Long Trail from the Massachusetts border to Smuggler's Notch over the course of twenty very hot, very rainy days. But that's when we both ran out of time (and energy, if the truth be known). It was a tough slog, but then, that's the Long Trail.

I went back later that fall and finished the final 65 miles to the Canadian border. Dana (a 1991 veteran AT thru-hiker) has made at least four more attempts to finish the LT since then, but has been rebuffed each time for a variety of reasons. He's got that 'stick-to-itive' mentality, though, that doesn't let him quit a project once he's begun. So he kept going back to Vermont and hiking a few more miles north.

And this year, he and his wife Janet hiked the last 15 miles over Jay Peak to the border in beautiful weather. It must have felt great! Way to go.

Marty Rogers, a long-time outdoor friend of mine, passed away from cancer on September 1, 2004.

Marty loved to hike, to climb mountains, to rock and ice climb. And that's how I knew him. I rarely ever saw him in town. It was always on a trip somewhere, toting a heavy backpack of gear up some mountain, or on the end of rope scrambling up a steep rock face.

Marty was a strong, quiet man with an infectious smile and an optimistic attitude, which spread to all those around him. His optimism was still with him a few months back when I shared a beer with him at the Great Lost Bear after a MOAC meeting. He knew the end was in sight and plainly said so. But he refused to give in to the disease that was taking him down.

I recall a hike we did together over Saddleback Mountain a few years back with friends from MOAC. We camped the first night at a renegade site just above Poplar Ridge. I remember coming over to Marty's camp in the evening and seeing him sitting comfortably on the ground next to his slick one-man tent, dressed warmly in Gore-Tex, and crouching over his fancy stove cooking dinner. He was as happy as can be, a real mountain man. And that's how I'll always remember him.

I'll miss you Marty. We all will. My thoughts and prayers go out to your family and friends.

If you're a mountain biker and haven't yet been to the Kingdom Trails in East Burke, Vermont, why?? Kingdom Trails has arguably the best mountain biking in the East. There are about 100 miles of well-constructed, very scenic single-track and double-track trails. The trails range in difficulty from easy to pretty technical, so there's no doubt something to suit the ability of every rider.

A group of biking friends from MOAC made our annual pilgrimage to Kingdom Trails last weekend. There were fourteen of us this year which made for great fun.

On Saturday, we parked at the trailhead up on Darling Hill Road and blasted off down Fence Line, a black diamond-rated trail and a wild way to start the day. We hooted and hollered through the woods down the trail. Mind you, it had rained heavily a few days prior to our visit, so the trails were still a bit slick. Within the first hour, the rocks and roots and twists and turns had taken their toll. Nearly everyone had one or more scrapes or bruises to show off. But we got used to the conditions, made adjustments, and continued on. Trail after trail, mile after mile. It was fantastic riding... Fence Line, Pasture Point, River Run, Toady's, Web's, Dry Feet.

We finally stopped for a rest, lunch and a refreshing swim on a beautiful sandbar on the Passumpsic River. Then we saddled up and spent the afternoon (until fatigue and thrist got the best of us) biking the other side of the ridge, finishing up with a sweet run right into Burke Village. The Pub Outback called and we felt obliged to answer, so in we went for beers and dinner.

On Sunday, we shuttled ourselves part way up Burke Mountain for a phenomenal day of technical riding downhill. Owl's was our first trail. That led to the unbelievable ride down Dead Moose Alley--many miles of great single-track riding down the mountainside. We emerged from the woods and pedaled down classic Vermont dirt roads for several miles before heading off across an extensive area of fields. We lunched on a wide open hilltop with wonderful views of Burke Mountain and the route we had just ridden. After lunch, there was more of the same (damn!), whooshing downhill on Lower Moose Alley to Nose Dive, before heading back to Burke village along another picturesque branch of the Passumpsic River.

Whew! I need a break just thinking about it... Check Kingdom Trails out for yourself and let me know what you think. I trust you'll return home with a huge grin on your face.

By the way, we camped for the weekend about twenty miles north of Kingdom Trails at Brighton State Park, just outside of Island Pond. It's an idyllic place with nice campsites, shelters and hot showers. And it's quiet too!

On Friday night, September 10th, NBCs Dateline aired the incredible story of Aron Ralston, the 27 year-old Colorado adventurer who cut off his own arm in order to extract himself from a slot canyon in the Utah wilderness where he had been trapped for six days. I taped the show--Desperate Days in Blue John Canyon--and watched it spellbound last evening.

Ralston's story is beyond amazing. I'm still shaking my head. Could I--could you--cut off your own arm to save your life? It's hard to say isn't it? I've been in some pretty sticky situations in the backcountry, but nothing--nothing--even remotely approached what Ralston experienced. Six days in a remote canyon with your right armed pinned by an immovable boulder, with enough supplies to last only for a day hike, and with hope dwindling even more as each hour, each day passed. But finally, with a do-or-die determination, Ralston summoned the courage to do the unthinkable--to free himself and live--by sawing off his arm with a dull knife. And after that incredible act, to have the strength to get himself out to help. Unbelievable!

Not to take anything at all away from Ralston, but it's likely that the ordeal could have been avoided had he not broken one of the cardinal rules of backcountry travel: Tell somebody where you're going and when you expect to be back. Ralston repeatedly stressed that fact during the interview. All backcountry traveler's should heed his advice, even for short trips away from the road and car.

I'm ordering his book Between a Rock and a Hard Place as we speak. I'm figuring it will be a great read.

The October issue of Backpacker magazine arrived in the mail yesterday. That pretty much put a hold on anything else I had planned for the evening. I sat right down and read the thing from cover-to-cover.

The article on secluded hiking routes in the White Mountains was particularly good. It listed three overnight trips (Northern Presidential Loop, Pemigewasset Wilderness Loop and Sandwich Range Traverse) and three day hikes (Mt. Carrigain, The Baldfaces and Mt. Avalon). I was familiar with all of them, but it was nice to be reminded that, yes, there are some trails in the Whites that aren't overrun with people all the time.

I've been a faithful subscriber to Backpacker magazine since it started sometime in the early 70s (with the exception of a few years in college when I needed all available cash for food and shelter). It's a consistently good read with inspiring articles, useful hiking tips and gear reviews.

Wednesday might be "hump" day for most folks, but for me it's definitely Tuesday. For five years now I've been mountain biking on Tuesday nights with friends from the Maine Outdoor Adventure Club (MOAC). From May through September we ride somewhere in the Greater Portland area, then gather up afterward at a local watering hole for chow and brew. It's good exercise and good fun and it sure helps the week go by quicker and easier.

There's plenty of great trails to ride in the area: The City Ride, Dump Run and River Run in Portland, Hinckley Park in South Portland, Pride's Corner in Westbrook, Bruce Hill in Cumberland and Bradbury Mountain State Park in Pownal, just to name a few. They're all a little different in both character and challenge.

Last night Wendy led us on another great ride along the Presumpscot River called the River Run. Portland Trails and local mountain bikers have done a fantastic job building new bridges and plenty of new single track trail. Thanks for the great riding! Post-ride festivities were held at Wendy's home in Falmouth where we BBQd and relaxed in her new screenhouse. Another tough Tuesday night!

By far (and I think most of the MOAC Tuesday night group would agree) the best riding is found at Bradbury Mountain State Park. Over the past several years, the Park has made a concerted effort to build new trails specifically for mountain bikers. And they've done quite a job! It's no wonder we seem to go back there every few weeks. You've gotta go check them out!

Our favorite post-ride spot is no doubt Samuel's Pub at Morrill's Corner in Portland. Tuesdays nights are 2 for 1 pizza and cheap drafts night. It's crowded but fun. And very often we'll run into other Tuesday night fanatics from MOAC, like the rock climbers and sea kayakers. It's sure adds to the spirit of camaraderie!

A reliable source (who shall remain nameless despite his telltale blue lips and fingers) tells me that even though it's September, there's still plenty of wild blueberries to be had for the picking. One need only take an easy hike up (where else?!) Blueberry Mountain in Evans Notch. Hike the Blueberry Ridge Trail to the top, then take the side trail to the overlook and the precious berries. Come and get 'em!

Labor Day weekend was anything but laborious. About a dozen water-loving friends and I spent the long weekend up in The Forks, running the Dead and Kennebec Rivers. We camped at the traditional camping area for boaters, Webb's Campground.

On Sunday seven of us--Lisa, Craig, Sandie, Josh, Andrew, Heidi, Carl and I--loaded up my raft and shot down the Dead River. The 5500 cfs (cubic feet per second) release provided 16 miles of near continuous excitement. Spencer Rips and Humpty Dumpty rapids in the upper river were fun, but Big Poplar Falls lower down was WILD! The wave train was huge and we hit it perfect and stayed with it right through Fry-O-Later Hole (a biggie!). Somewhere along the way we lost Craig overboard, but the fearless crew quickly pulled him back in. John, Dave and Melissa (brave souls for sure) ran the Dead in their kayaks and had an equally exciting day.

The group gathered that evening for post-river cocktails and eats down the road at the Marshall Hotel. There's a sign posted up in the rafters there that reads "Live Well. Laugh Often. Love Much." Seems the Marshall never fails to instill all those good feelings after a day "on the river." Takes me back to the rip-roaring good times of my river-guiding days of a few years back. Anyway, it was a boisterous scene of burgers, beers, jukebox music, several games of cut-throat billiards and mixing with all the other river rats. Then it was back to camp for some relaxing around a roaring fire.

Early on Monday Carl, Dave, Steph, Sara, Craig and I put the raft in at Harris Station for a run down the Kennebec River. The release was scheduled for 6000 cfs, but I don't think so. The wave trains were much bigger than that, in my opinion, so I'd say it was running about 8000. Big stuff! But oh so much fun. We got a touch fouled up coming into Big Mama and ended up running it backwards. Then we shot down the Alleyway into Whitewasher and over Big Kahuna. We rode an endless stream of BIG waves all the way to Cathedral Eddy, hooting and hollering down the gorge. Rafting as it's meant to be, boys and girls! On to Magic Falls... we hit the hole just a hair to the right but still got slammed hard. But not as hard the hit we took just below at Hell Hole (I normally try to skirt it, but today, ah well, what the hell). Craig got shot out of the front of the raft, while I got thrown hard to the floor. We fished our swimmer out in a flash and continued floating on...

Go Craig: 2 days + 2 dunks = 2 much fun! Makes going back to work on Tuesday look mighty dull I'm afraid.