Books. I just can't get enough of them. So much so that I wish we could get this cloning thing down.

Just imagine: One of me to go to work, another me to play outside, yet another just to hang out in a comfy chair and read books. OK, and maybe one more me to sample the brews of the world.

Occasionally I'd have a staff meeting with all my cloned me's to review and coordinate this multi-faceted life thanks to the wonders of DNA research.

Oh, but I digress...

I was up in Bangor recently visitng with my friends at Epic Sports, owner Brad Ryder and crew. If you're in that neck of the woods, do stop into the downtown store. They've got a great operation going and tons of outdoor gear and even more local hiking and paddling knowledge.

Anyway, you know I couldn't leave the place without buying something. So, as if driven by some unseen force, I found myself in the book section. And was immediately drawn to a book on the Appalachian Trail (duh!). So I bought it, of course.

Dreaming the Appalachian Trail is written by Brad Viles, an avid hiker and Maine outdoors writer for many years.

It's a good read, albeit a quick one (it's but 72 pages long), and I recommend it for anyone with an insatiable thirst for all things Appalachian Trail.

Viles has written the book as a "backpacking" novel, although I'm not sure just why. The book might have read better as a straight-forward journal of the adventure. But I applaud Viles for trying.

The main character, Viles really, is named Ivy B. Mann. Ivy is tired of waiting for the spring that never seems to come to Maine, and so heads south to Georgia and the Appalachian Trail in search of it.

Mann finds spring alright as he walks northward on the trail, and gives himself a name change: "Maine-tainer." He also encounters, or tries to anyway, a number of odd characters as well.

The search for the elusive Clay Dep (pronounced Deep), apparently the keeper of spring, is an odd chapter. Mann nevers does find him.

Then there's Topo Man who, rather than carry the AT guidebook and maps in his pack, has them tattooed over his body. And must go through some wild contortions to read portions of the maps in out-of-the-way areas on his flesh.

Despite the occasional strange characters and bizarre happenings, Vile's--Maine-tainer's--love for the trail and the experience shines through. And by the end he has not only found spring, but a whole new appreciation for the gift of life and living.

Give it a good read. I bet you'll enjoy it, too.

And speaking of reading, I've got a whole stack of books waiting patiently for some page-turning time. The occasional night at home just isn't enough. Gotta have some more extended trail time I guess.

I really do think that cloning idea is the way to go...

What's on your outdoor adventure reading list???

Hey all, I just heard that local author Clint Willis will be speaking and signing books at Longfellow Books at Monument Square in downtown Portland tomorrow night, November 9th at 7PM.

Willis is the author of The Boys of Everest, a gripping account of Chris Bonington and his cronies and their three epic decades of daring climbing in the Himalayas and across the world.

A not-to-miss program for us mountain adventure lovers!

On the long distance trail, when hikers take a day off they call it "taking a zero." Staying put. No mileage.

Well, that's what this hiker did yesterday. I took a zero.

Bad stomach grumblings, a nasty headache and sore throat were enough to knock me down good, calling for a day of rest. A sick day. No work.

But you know me, I don't rest up very well. I tried, but...

So, in-between cat naps and liters of OJ and slices of toast I entertained myself with some reading.

Quite a pile of reading. No shortage at all. Frustratingly so.

I continued with William Least Heat-Moon and Blue Highways, the book I had with me on the NPT, now traveling the blue roads through the high and lonely desert of western Nevada.

I am up to the climax Apollo 11 launch for the Moon in July of 1969 with Buzz Aldrin in Men from Earth, a fascinating and riveting history of rocketry, space flight and the space race between the Soviets and the US. Talk about the ultimate adventure!

I also poked through a couple of books I picked up in NY on the hike, too:

From the Trailhead is an anthology of stories on the Adirondacks by longtime outdoorsman and writer John Washburn. And only a few pages into it, No Place I'd Rather Be by Stuart Mesinger, a compilation of Adirondack lean-to log book entries, has already provided some good chuckles.

I'm a short way along with Tom Joad and family in Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath, soon to be on their way west from the Dust Bowls of Oklahoma. (BTW, I read The Pearl while on the NPT... a fun, quick read).

And I'm still on Monhegan Island with Colin Woodard in The Lobster Coast and he explores the history of Maine's lobster industry. A tremendous read thus far.

A chapter here, a few pages there. Eventually I'll plow through them all. But by then, the stack will have grown high again and I'll be off on new adventures.

Oh, and never mind the brand new issues of Backpacker, Outside, AT Journeys and AMC Outdoors. Never even got to those.

In any case I am feeling a bit better today, semi-rested and almost ready for the weekend.

But I still think I need to take another "zero" again soon...

What's on your adventure reading list?

I'm back from the city, Beantown, I am. Five days of urban living complete with traffic, trains and tall buildings. And all the accompanying noise and confusion. A mass of humanity moving to and fro 24/7.

It's exhilarating and energizing. But I can only take so much. So after business was complete yesterday afternoon I was happy to bid adieu to fair Boston and head north.

To unpack the suits and ties, shiny shoes and briefcase. Only to repack again tonight. This time with fleece and sleeping bag, boots and tent. And books, precious books.

And notebook. To record what I see and feel as I walk the trails of beautiful Nahmakanta. Past lakes and ponds, over streams, up the hills, beneath the shade of the spruce and fir.

To think. Quietly. About what was, record what is, and dream of what may be.

With half of Travels with Charley remaining, Steinbeck will be traveling with me. I am consuming it as though it were a drug and I an addict. The urge, the itch to go is back (as if it ever left?) and Steinbeck's words help only to load up the trunk of my car.

Encamped at some peaceful tentsite, I'll next take up with William Least Heat Moon and begin down Blue Highways. Moon will no doubt fill my tank with gas. And by it's final pages I could be road bound. Such is the influence on my unquenchable desire to travel. To see. To do.

I peeked through Blue Highways already and on the last page found this:

Lines from a Navajo Wind Chant
Then he was told:
Remember what you have seen,
because everything forgotten
returns to the circling winds.

Yes, see, really see. And remember. Life is short and uncertain and precious. Live conciously so as to live well, fully, richly.

These thoughts and more will be with me on the trail on this long weekend in the restful and renewing wilderness.

A week or so ago, Trail Head reader Pancho empathized along with me as I described the atrocious heat and humidity while on the trail hiking in Baxter State Park.

It was brain-baking brutal that weekend, no doubt.

Sensing that my fried synapses needed some serious cooling off, Pancho kindly sent me a copy of his book Day Trips with a Splash: Northeastern Swimming Holes.

A fine humanitarian gesture, my friend. Indeed.

On this, the hottest day of the summer with temperatures everywhere in the northeastern US a wilting 90 degrees plus, the arrival of the book was also timely.

I'm sure ready for a good swim.

For us Mainers, Day Trips with a Splash: Northeastern Swimming Holes describes 18 cool swimming holes around the state, from Niagara Falls in Baxter to Coos Canyon in Byron to Rattlesnake Pool in Stoneham. Topo maps, lats and longs, and detailed directions are included for each, as well as excellent descriptions of what you're going to find at the falls or pool upon arrival.

Beyond Maine, the book lists great swimming holes from New Hampshire all the way south to Virginia, a varitable lifetime of swimming holes!

Pancho Doll (yep, that's his real name) has actually written a series of books on swimming holes, from California to the Southwest. A fourth book is due out on Southeastern swimming holes.

What fun! Searching out pools and falls and creeks, streams and lakes, and then writing about them. Damn, why didn't I think of that?!

Anyway, pick up a copy and head for swimming hole nearest you. With a few cold ones in tow, of course.

Enjoy! And thanks Pancho!

Well, I finally finished reading Where Less the Path is Worn by Nimblewill Nomad.

It's taken me awhile to get through it, but that's solely because I've been savoring each page and each step along the trail. And last evening Nomad and I reached the northern tip of Newfoundland at Belle Isle and the completion of his epic 5,000 mile journey from one end of the Appalachian Mountains to the other.

At the conclusion of his book, Nomad writes a short ditty entitled "Why Go!":

It's the people, the places,
The pain and the trials.
It's the joy and the blessings
That come from the miles.

It's a calling gone out
To a fortunate few.
To wander the fringes
Of God's hazy blue.

You rock, Nomad.

It was a no brainer, of course, to scribble this journey down on my life "to-do" list. I've been planning for some time now to do a repeat thru-hike of the AT, but maybe now I'll expand that idea and add in a few extra miles on either end. Like 2,800 or so. What's a few more miles anyway?

This far northern trail through Newfoundland is in its infancy and development of it is proceeding along rather well I'm told. It will be part of the ever-expanding International Appalachian Trail that will one day extend from our own Baxter State Park through New Brunswick, Quebec and thence across Newfoundland. There is talk now of an arm of the IAT also curving off into Nova Scotia.

If you're interested in the IAT, whether for a few days of hiking or a full-on thru-hike, or just for yucks, you can get a glimpse of the project at tomorrow night's Maine Outdoor Adventure Club (MOAC) meeting in Portland.

Dick Anderson of Freeport, the brainchild and tireless advocate of the IAT, will be the featured speaker and will detail efforts to build more IAT trail in Newfoundland and Nova Scotia.

I'll see you there...

Early this morning, coffee and book in hand, I walked with Nimblewill Nomad over the last few miles of the Florida National Scenic Trail and thence across Key West to the southernmost point in the U.S.

It's been a long and fun journey with Nomad over these 300 days, 4,800 miles and 314 pages. He never fails to energize and entertain and inspire.

What I've particularly enjoyed are the quotes (most from other writers and adventurers, but many he's written himself) that Nomad has assembled and sprinkled into his new book after each day's journal entry. I've more than doubled my stock now of precious quotes.

Like this one, just a couple of days from Key West:

If I've made it, it's half because I was game to take on a wicked amount of punishment along the way, and half because there were an awful lot of people who cared enough to help me.
--Althea Gibson

That's long distance hiking in a nutshell.

Perserverance. One plodding foot after another. Through all the sweat and stink and sunburn and rain and bugs and bad bowels. And through the beauty and solitude and quiet and woods and mountains and vistas and winds and stars.

And trail magic. The unexpected gifts of kindness that appear out of nowhere when you least expect it and need it most from people you don't even know and will never see again. Those sterling moments that serve to bolster your faith in humankind. That shatter the nasty visions that are beamed into our brains on the evening news.

Nomad's walk is not over, though.

He and I have another 550 miles and 75 pages to trek through, over the mountains of Newfoundland, the true end of the Appalachian Mountains.

It is this Newfoundland section of trail that my friend Dick Anderson, founder of the International Appalachian Trail, will be speaking about at the upcoming MOAC meeting on April 5th in Portland. Dick may also have some news by then on the possible extension of the trail into Nova Scotia.

So don't miss out. Be there.

If I can't be outside, I'm okay being inside with Outside.

You follow me?

Good.

Sitting down with the April issue last night, I came across a host of interesting (to me anyway) bits and pieces of news and marginally useful info...

* A guy named Jamie Pierre clicked into his alpine skis and leaped off a 255-foot cliff at Grand Targhee, Wyoming. Why, oh, why? The jump broke the standing record of 225 feet. Sure makes my hop off a boulder at Spruce Cliffs at Sunday River look pretty timid.

* The Last Season by Eric Blehm looks like a fascinating read. It's about a backcountry ranger at Kings Canyon National Park in California who went missing in late July 1996 and hasn't been seen since. That wigs me out some as I was through that way on the John Muir Trail just weeks later. Huh. The book reviewer gives it an Into the Wild kind of feel. Excellent!

* Speaking of Into the Wild, the movie is due to hit theaters sometime soon (no release date as yet). Can't wait for that. Make sure you read the book first (like always). It's a thrilling read.

* Mountain Hardwear has an ad for their new Exodus backpack system. It appears to be a hybrid internal and external frame pack. I'd like to give it go as I'll bet it carries a heavy load comfortably. Just what I need though, another pack.

* Aron Ralston, the Colorado adventurer who got stuck in a Utah slot canyon and had to extricate himself after six days by cutting off his right arm, has become the first person to complete all 59 Colorado 14,000 foot peaks solo, and in winter. Cool. Very cool.

* Jackson Hole Ski Resort in Wyoming will be celebrating Tram Days from March 18-April 2 with their Jackson Hole Mountain Festival. Should be loads of fun but with a measure of sadness: On April 2 the tram will cease operation after some 40 years of carrying skiers up over 4,000 vertical feet of mountain. That's a good long run, on both accounts.

Dat's all I got. Then I fell asleep. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Four years ago a special friend gave me a copy of The Best American Travel Writing, then a brand new series published by Houghton Mifflin. I gobbled up this collection of adventure and travel stories from around the globe in just a couple of days. And ever since, I’ve hungrily looked forward to each year’s new edition.

I’m about half way through the 2004 edition now, and last evening read a wild story by veteran Himalayan mountaineer Mark Jenkins entitled “The Ghost Road” (which originally appeared in Outside).

Jenkins is obsessed with the idea of finding and following the old Stilwell Road, a rough passage built by U.S. and British soldiers during World War II to connect India with China through Burma (now Myanmar) as a way to supply the Chinese against the Japanese. But, as with many similar construction projects in history, the road was obsolete by the time it was completed in 1945, and subsequently abandoned right after the war.

Myanmar is one of the world’s most brutal totalitarian regimes and a decidedly dangerous place when Jenkins visits during the period 1996-99 in his quest to document the old road, the people and the landscape along it. Jenkins is repeatedly stymied by third world bureaucracy, and worse, brutally beaten, threatened with death, arrested dozens of times, and deported nearly as many times.

This is not your average adventure travel story. Your skin will crawl and fear will well up inside you. And, as I have a good friend from Maine currently traveling alone in that part of the world, I took serious notice. And said a prayer for his safety.

But for my friend Bill, as with Jenkins, staying home was not an option. I understand that sentiment full well, having done my share of traveling abroad, although to nowhere near as hostile (yet, anyway) the places that these two adventurers have experienced.

You can’t see the world, and understand it, from your living room couch. Life is short, time flies, health wanes. You’ve got to weigh the risks, be as smart as you can, and leave the rest to Providence. But go you must. To see and feel beyond yourself. Get a view from the edge. Or over it.

Jenkins sums it up like no other:

Adventure is a path. Real adventure—self-determined, self-motivated, often risky—forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth, and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind—and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black and white.

For my birthday last week a friend got me a copy of Where Less the Path is Worn, the hefty trail journal of M.J. Eberhart ("Nimblewill Nomad") and his incredible trek the entire length of the Eastern Continental Trail.

Huh?

The Eastern Continental Trail is a contrived long distance hiking route that connects Key West, Florida to the tip of Newfoundland.

You're kidding, right?

Nope. 5,000 miles and some change.

And Eberhart made the super-human trek over the course of 347 days in 2000-2001.

Wow!

He began on the International Appalachian Trail (IAT) at Cap Gaspe in Quebec. Hiked south to Maine and picked up the Appalachian Trail. Thru-hiked the entire 2,150-mile AT to Georgia. Then proceeded to follow the Benton McKaye Trail and Georgia-Pinhoti Trail into Alabama. Onto the Alabama Trail to connect up with the 1,000 mile long Florida Trail. And then completed this montrous hike by walking the length of the Florida Keys to Key West. He returned north to Newfoundland the following year to complete the Appalachian Mountain range through Newfoundland.

Unbelievable. I'm out of breath simply typing it all out!

Amazing.

Not only is Eberhart is an extraordinary hiker (this is his second such hike, this time including Newfoundland and the Florida Keys, too), he's quite a character and tells a pretty damn good story too.

I've only gone a short distance (and a few pages) down the trail with him, but I just know it's going to be a fun and pleasant journey.

But this is not my first exposure to M.J. "Eb" Eberhart.

I've had the pleasure of meeting Eb face-to-face twice now. First, by arrangement, here in Portland in 1998. And a couple of years later, in 2001, a chance meeting to the great surprise of both of us, at remote Gooch Gap shelter along the AT in northern Georgia.

I just love the guy, and very much admire and respect him not only for what he's accomplished, but for the style in which he's done it. He is a gracious and modest man.

I can't wait to get on with the book and follow his trail travels the length of the Eastern Seaboard.

Hope you'll pick up a copy and join me!
__________

Just for yucks, I dug up my impressions of that first meeting with Eb in Portland in late October 1998, immediately after he completed his first big hike. I thought you might enjoy it:

I got a call the other day from Dick Anderson, former Maine Conservation Commissioner and now President of the Maine Chapter of the International Appalachian Trail.

"We're having a get together downtown after work on Friday," he says. "Going to have a little celebration for a guy who just finished thru-hiking the IAT."

Sounds great, I think to myself.

"And we're going to have an international selection of beers from Maine, New Brunswick, and Quebec."

Even better.

"I'll be there!"

While we wait in Dick's office for our guest of honor to arrive, a small crowd begins to gather. Dick regales us with news of the International Appalachian Trail—a big picture of the IAT is projected onto the wall—and of the accomplishments of one M. J. Eberhart, the second person ever to have hiked the entire IAT. I learn that not only did Eberhart hike the IAT, but all of the Appalachian Trail, and the Florida Trail to boot.

Yes, that's right.

"Eb" started on January 1, 1998 in the Florida Everglades and hiked north through the Appalachian Mountains to Mount Katahdin, then on to Land's End at the tip of the Gaspe Peninsula on the St. Lawrence River in Quebec. He finished the third week of October—after 287 days and more than 4,200 miles of hiking.

Whew!

The story got even better when I learned that Eb is 60 years old!

Amazing.

Still awaiting our guest, and trying to comprehend this grand human feat, I feel compelled to sample ales from both sides of the border. Can't offend our Canadian neighbors, after all.

Finally, Eb appears through the door, fully clad in hiking garb, pack on his back, hiking sticks in hand. He has that lean and mean thru-hiker build, earned through months of sweat and toil up and over hundreds of mountains. His hair is gray and shoulder length, his beard long and shaggy. A broad smile beams across his face. He looks every bit a man who has seen and experienced things that only a long distance hiker can.

At once he is right there among us, talking with us, reciting woodsy poetry, and preaching the glories of journeying along the IAT, the AT, the Appalachians—hands waving, fingers pointing and feet stomping.

I notice a familiar look in Eb's eyes. I know that look. I have seen it in the faces of other thru-hikers, have seen it in my own mirror. It is a look of distance—of far away summits, lonely trails, deep forests. He is back from the trail, yes, but he will never fully return. Changed forever by an experience that is almost unfathomable to most of us, he cannot return entirely. It is the direct result of great adventure, and both a curse and a blessing.

My hat is off to you Nimblewill Nomad (his trail name). Thank you for sharing your incredible odyssey with us. Thank you for your inspiration. You are living proof that life is, indeed, the greatest adventure.
__________

The Spirits of Sagamook
by Nimblewill Nomad

The summit of ol' Sagamook,
Isn't all that high,
But, as I climb, I pass right through the sky.

And as I part this sanctity,
A bit of me will stay. To rest in God's eternal peace,
That's present here today.

Eb, you rock!

The coffee pot is set, and the ski gear is packed and at the door, ready for an early morning departure to the slopes at Attitash.

And now, on this rather frigid evening, I've settled in with a good book and a glass of red (with one eye on the Pats game, of course).

The book is Small is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered, by E.F. Shumacher. It's an enlightening read that presents an interesting, if not a convincingly common sense approach to the wise use of the Earth's natural and human resources.

It's certainly got me scratching my beard a lot and muttering "Hmmm."

Anyway, on page 86 I came across a quote by Ortega y Gassett that completely stopped me in my tracks:

Living is nothing more or less than doing one thing instead of another.

Well, that kind of boils things down to a pretty simple level now, doesn't it?!

And it sure could explain a lot.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love my day job. It's meaningful work. And I work with cool people, both in the office and across the state. It's not a bad gig.

But it's still work.

And, as we who love to play in the outdoors know all too well, work cuts into the available time for hiking and paddling and biking and skiing and, and, and...

So we pursue our outdoor passions in the evenings, on weekends, and on those precious vacation days.

Unless of course you're Pete McCarthy*, noted author, adventurer and traveler, whose work and play are uniquely combined, making me, and you too I'll bet, extraordinarily jealous.

I'm finishing up Pete's latest book, The Road to McCarthy: Around the World in Search of Ireland, and he's in Montserrat now, searching for his roots among the surprisingly large population of Irish descendants there.

He describes his work (a term used very loosely here) thusly:

"I've been studying Montserrat's history for the day and a half since I arrived. I've established an office at a table in the shade of a mango tree, with the unrealistically blue Caribbean to my right and the volcano constantly belching smoke away to my left. It's an office in the sense that, as well as a chair, there's a small table piled with books, and a bottle of cold Carib beer. Behind me is an empty swimming pool..."

Tough duty Pete. How do you deal with it?

Further on he writes:

"Afterwards, I put in a good session at my office under the mango tree. I'd never have thought that I was suited to an office job, but I'm starting to come round to the idea. Being able to have a swim and a beer whenever you feel like it is a big plus, and in the interests of productivity and job satisfaction, should be introduced to all industries as soon as possible if we are to continue to compete in global markets."

Now that's an office job!

I could do that!

Where in the world do I get me one of those I wonder?

* Sadly, I learned that McCarthy died of cancer last year at the young age of 53. He was just coming into his prime as a writer, so we'll just have to treasure his only two books.

I trust that most of you know Alix Hopkins and the wonderful work she did leading Portland Trails for so many years. Alix is a good friend and one of the nicest people you'd want to know. And she has done an incredible job for Portland and the surrounding communities through her tireless trails advocacy.

Well, it is no surprise then that Alix has written a book about her experiences here and that of selected other communities elsewhere in the U.S. The book is entitled Groundswell: Saving Places, Finding Community.

And tomorrow evening, Wednesday, October 19th, Alix will read from her new book at the Jameson Gallery, 305 Commercial St. in Portland, beginning at 5:30 PM.

But there's more...

Portland Trails current ED, Nan Cummings, has penned a chapter Following Diana, The New Woman in the Maine Woods, for the new book Of Place and Gender: Women in Maine History. Nan will also read excerpts of her writing.

And finally...

The 2nd edition of the Portland Trails Map and Trail Guide, revised and updated, will be available for sale ($4.95).

So, it looks like a busy and fun evening. Come on along and celebrate the literary success of two fine local people who have done so much for the cause of trails. And bring your checkbook, as I'm sure you might just want tp pick up a copy of each.

Books.

The stack at home continues to grow. Actually now there are several stacks. The coffee table. Next to the coffee table. On the shelf above my bed. Next to the bed on the floor.

I reading them as fast as I can. Adventure books, travel books, novels (yes, novels!). Almost an entire month of traveling recently and yet I still couldn't get through more than a handful of books.

Like the parable of the five loaves and two fishes, the stacks don't ever seem to diminish. There are always more books.

I need to be banned from Border's, Books Etc., Longfellow's. Amazon should refuse my credit card. Somebody has got to stop this...

Right now I'm pouring through Between a Rock and a Hard Place, that amazing story of Aron Ralston, who managed to cut his arm off in order to extract himself from a remote Utah canyon. I'm also halfway through Pete McCarthy's last book, The Road to McCarthy, adventuring around the world in search of his Irish heritage.

What's next? We'll see.

What are you reading?

Wanna borrow a book or two? No problem, I've got plenty extra.

Over coffee this morning I turned the final pages of Jack Kerouac's The Dharma Bums.

I left Ray Smith loving the freedom of life at his fire lookout atop Desolation Peak deep in the wilderness of Washington's Cascade Mountains.

It has been a most excellent journey, from Marin County to Mexico to the Sierras to the Cascades. With Japhy and Buddha and a host of crazy characters and wild happenings.

If you've got a hankering for a good adventure story, you'll enjoy this classic.

Oh, and...

Yabyum.

Tucked into a shelf upstairs at home is a rather disorganized collection of precious things I've collected over the years. Little trinkets, inspirational books, letters and postcards from friends and family, notebooks filled with thoughts I've scrawled, and scraps of paper with passages or poems that hold special meaning.

I keep them close by because they help keep me connected to events and people and places in this life, to things I will always cherish and remember. And when I look through them every now and again, they help to slow down the frantic pace of life for a few brief moments and give me some time to reflect on what's been, even as life rushes forward.

Rummaging through this pile of stuff the other day I came across one of my absolute favorites: Anna Quindlen's Commencement Address at Villanova University in 2000.

It's a simple recipe for how to live, for putting things in proper perspective, and recognizing what is truly important in this life. It's brilliant and moving and true and brings tears to my eyes every time. Read it yourself and see.

It's all very good, but the end of it just kills me...

Well, you can learn all those things, out there, if you get a life, a full life, a professional life, yes, but another life, too, a life of love and laughs and a connection to other human beings. Just keep your eyes and ears open. Here you could learn in the classroom. There the classroom is everywhere. The exam comes at the very end. No man ever said on his deathbed I wish I had spent more time at the office. I found one of my best teachers on the boardwalk at Coney Island maybe 15 years ago. It was December, and I was doing a story about how the homeless survive in the winter months.

He and I sat on the edge of the wooden supports, dangling our feet over the side, and he told me about his schedule; panhandling the boulevard when the summer crowds were gone, sleeping in a church when the temperature went below freezing, hiding from the police amidst the Tilt a Whirl and the Cyclone and some of the other seasonal rides. But he told me that most of the time he stayed on the boardwalk, facing the water, just the way we were sitting now even when it got cold and he had to wear his newspapers after he read them.

And I asked him why. Why didn't he go to one of the shelters? Why didn't he check himself into the hospital for detox? And he just stared out at the ocean and said, "Look at the view, young lady. Look at the view."

And every day, in some little way, I try to do what he said. I try to look at the view. And that's the last thing I have to tell you today, words of wisdom from a man with not a dime in his pocket, no place to go, nowhere to be. Look at the view. You'll never be disappointed.

It's a beautiful Friday with a nice looking weekend just ahead. I'm headed off to do some hiking, maybe you are too. Or paddling, biking, hanging out with family and friends, feet up with a good book, a barbeque, swimming at the lake.

Whatever it might be, enjoy! It's a pretty good life we've got, nowhere near perfect, with plenty of ups and downs, but pretty darn good over all. Something not to be taken for granted.

Cruising back home along some backwater Vermont highway after a hiking trip last week, I passed a sign that said FREE on it.

Now, I'd like to tell you that it said FREE BEER, and that I spent the rest of the afternoon chewing the fat and drinking some Vermont farmer's gratis brew, but I can't.

The sign actually said FREE BOOKS.

And that's damn near as good.

So I whipped the Honda around (carefully, of course, strictly adhering to the Vermont Motor Vehicle Laws) and swung into the dooryard.

And proceeded to poke through the boxes.

Score!

I came up with an armful of good reading of an outdoor nature...

The Sea Around Us by Rachel Carson. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. Wise and Witty Sayings by Will Rogers. Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad.

And my favorite: Your Own Book of Campcraft by Catherine Hammett.

And so the stack of stuff to read grows and grows. I need about a year off in a cabin in the woods somewhere to plow through it all. Just me (well not just me) and the books. And some free beer.

In the meantime I'm working my way through Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac, and having a hoot of a time adventuring with Japhy, Ray, Morley and Alvah...

What are you reading?

Outside magazine showed up in my mailbox yesterday.

And there we were, good old Portland Maine, featured on page 100 as one of America's Dream Towns.

Portland was recognized for its brewpubs (really?), extensive paths and greenways, high percentage of restaurants per capita, high number of kayaks observed strapped to the top of cars, and our primo access to a wide spectrum of recreational activities.

It's all true, and I feel damn fortunate to live here with so many of life's good things at our fingertips.

I gotta ask, though. Do you realtors get a cut from this?

But the kudos for Portland don't end there.

National Geographic Adventure magazine--my favorite mag in the world--also arrived yesterday.

And who do you think the editors named "Adventure Town" this month?

You guessed it... Portland!

For its many opportunities for biking, hiking, sailing and paddling. No question.

And, of course, lighthouses, blueberries, music and lobster rolls. Ain't that quaint.

In fact, the magazine recommends to potential visitors to "wrap up your day's coastal adventures like a true-blue Mainer: Eat seafood from a plastic basket at a picnic table right on the rocky shore."

Really?

OK, you do that dee-yah. Ayuh!

Meanwhile I'll be down at Gritty's with my pint of pale ale...

Outside magazine has again named Portland, Maine as one of its top 10 picks for American "dream towns". Yep, we're right up there with Salt Lake City, Chicago, Fort Collins, Charleston, Madison, Pasadena, Davis, Calif., Littleton, N.H., and the other Portland. Not bad company.

Outside "ranked American cities and towns on criteria including commitment to open space, community spirit, healthy job markets, environmental friendliness and opportunities for recreation."

I'm not so sure on the healthy job market thing, but I can pretty much go along with the rest of them for the Portland area.

It is certainly beautiful here, and the access to all types of recreational opportunities is amazing. It's been home to me for 18 years now, and I think I might just hang around for a few more years, whether or not Outside thinks we're cool.

Read all about it in the upcoming issue, due out next week. But first read the primer on the article and the many very interesting comments. Then add yours!

No getting around it, the weather was crappy this weekend. A real motivation sapper. I did get out for a few walks at least, yucked it up with friends a bit, hung around the house and read a lot.

But the bikes, the skis, the kayak, the hiking boots all sat idle. Not my usual M.O. Probably not yours either I'll bet.

As a little pick-me-up to get me through the cold, wet, gray weekend I thumbed through my precious copy of Readings from the Hurricane Island Outward Bound School for a few inspirational words...

"Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigour of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life. Youth means predominance of courage over timidity, of adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of sixty more than a boy of twenty. Nobody grows old merely by a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear and despair--these bow the heart and turn the spirit back to dust. You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hopes, as old as your despair."
-- B. Ullman

I had a couple of short hikes planned for today, but I let the weather get the best of me. Just as well. It's pouring down out there now. The hikes will have to wait.

So what to do? Maybe time to kick back and do some reading...

Backpacker, Outside and National Geographic Adventure magazines all arrived in the mail this week, so I think I'll start on them first.

I also want to take some more serious notes on a possible cross-Ireland trek from Paddy Dillon's The Irish Coast to Coast Walk. Three weeks wandering through the green fields and hills and mountains of the old country, cozy inns, friendly people, friendly pubs. Yeah, that could be just the ticket...

If I still have the energy, I've got to get cracking on The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac, a traveller's classic that I've somehow overlooked all this time. It's "Kerouac living his dream as a Zen lunatic and rucksack wanderer on the fabled golden shore of West Coast America." I like the sound of that!

And if the rain continues, which it likely will, maybe I'll take another stab at Introduction to Philosophy by William James Earle.

It's quite a stack of stuff, but hey, it's a rainy Sunday, so what the heck. I'll make up for it next week hiking and biking in Acadia, I promise...

What did you do to get through the rainy weekend?

This lifestyle certainly allows plenty of time for introspection. Most days I spend six or seven hours alone, walking, out of sight and sound of any other human being. Some days my thoughts turn inward, and I pass the miles exploring memories of people and events that have shaped my past. Other days my mind nestles into a meditative daze, and I sense myself connected to the birds, the plants, the flowers, the trees, like a man floating on the breeze through a boundless garden.
--from As Far As The Eye Can See, the chronicle of a 1979 through-hike of the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine, by David Brill.

It happened this morning quite unexpectedly. But then, it always seems to catch me off guard. Maybe you too.

I rolled up the shade on the big picture window of my house and looked out for a few long minutes.

And then it hit me.

The fever.

Outside, I realized, everything had changed all of a sudden. The angle of the sun, and it's warmth pouring through the glass. The way the shadows fell across the ground. The receding snow, the thawing of brown earth.

Inside too, things had also changed. Inside of me. Much of the way I think, feel, act. Some ways I can see and understand, other ways are yet to be defined, if ever.

Spring is here and the cycle of life continues on its journey. It's a time for renewal. A time to reflect and take stock after the harshness of winter. Time to brighten up the dull gray of life. To break out with green leaves on the trees and grass on the fields. To break out with a smile, a peal of laughter. To enjoy a real deep breath of sweet fresh air.

We've made it through! It's spring!

Where to from here? Well, I'm not entirely sure.

But there's a path underneath my feet, and its leads off somewhere over that way. So I thought I might as well make the most of this fine spring day and start walking for a bit, and maybe see where it goes...

You're welcome to join me. A little company would be nice.

This morning over coffee I turned the final pages of A Salty Piece of Land by Jimmy Buffett. The book has been a real companion to me over the past month or so, traveling to Texas, on two backcountry ski trips to northern Maine, to Vermont twice, to Sugarloaf.

Now, I normally don't take this long to read a book. But it's a great book, and with Buffett, I like to turn the pages slowly and savor the adventures. Sailing through the Carribean, visiting the tropical islands and coasts... the Bahamas, Cuba, Belize, Mexico. Skiffs and sailboats, sunsets and palm trees, beaches and warm waters, tiki bars and music and cold Coronas with lime.

There's something about travelling with Tully Mars, er, Buffett, that just puts me off in a different world, far away from the day-to-day, as Buffett masterfully weaves his own philosphy of life--a life very well lived--into the pages, among the many adventures, the twists and turns of the story.

Buffett never fails to ignite that spark of escapism in me that lives, ever-present, just below the surface. You end up wanting to throw a few things together in a duffle, turn out the lights and turn your back on whatever you knew before, and head straight for the unknown, for life's adventure, whatever and wherever the next one is...

"Leap, and the net will appear"
--Jimmy Buffett, A Salty Piece of Land

It's taken me a few nights camped out on the trail and some late nights at home, but I've finally finished reading Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer. The book is a departure from Krakauer's prior writing that focused on adventure, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Under the Banner of Heaven is the true story of the gruesome murder of a mother and daughter by Mormon fundamentalists in Utah in 1984. Well written and exhaustively researched, Krakauer masterfully weaves a detailed history of Mormonism into the story that provides the perspective essential for the reader's understanding. It's a disturbing and controversial book, but well worth the read if you've enjoyed Krakauer's other books: Into Thin Air, Into the Wild and Eiger Dreams.

Next on the winter adventure reading list: Good Morning Midnight by Chip Brown. It's the story of longtime New England conservationist and author Guy Waterman, who committed suicide on top of New Hampshire's Mount Lafayette on a sub-zero February night several years ago.

National Geographic Adventure arrived in the mail today. So I sat down, grabbed a cold beverage and proceeded to read it from cover-to-cover. And now I don't ever want to go back to work (please don't tell my boss)! I just want to trek all over that world. Seriously, it's that good a read.

Adventure travel, backpacking, climbing, kayaking, mountain biking--you name it. Top it off with great writers and photos, this magazine has it all. I may never get to many of the places that are featured monthly in Adventure, but I've damn well added them to my "to-do" list. And with a little determination...

This month's Adventure just happens to feature a place close to home--New Hampshire's Mount Washington--a favorite destination of Maine adventurers. Because of its weather the mountain is considered the deadliest in the U.S., and 133 people have lost their lives on its slopes. The story provides a frightening account of two climbers who died while ice climbing in Pinnacle Gully, while making the case for Washington's deadly reputation. It's a chilling reminder to all of us.

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.