Hey Trail Headers... you may (or not) have been wondering just where the heck TH has gone to. Very kind of you if you did, but understandable if you didn't.

The Trail Head blog has moved to a new cyberworld location at MaineToday.com. And with a cool new design to boot. Maybe you like!

You can find TH and more blogs about the Maine outdoors online at Maine Outdoor Journal.

Same Trail Head, different address. You good with that?

Let's make a deal of sorts, shall we? I'm gonna blog more often. And you're gonna read it and comment on it. OK?

Thought so.

OK now. Go on and have a good weekend...

M.I.A. Missing in action.

Yep, that be me for sure. As at least when it comes to the blogosphere and my Trail Head friends.

Sorry folks!

Let's see... where do I start on my list of excuses?!

A fried laptop. That's been a biggie. Hard to do much online anything when your regular computer, chock full of all your files, favorites, photos and whatnot has crapped out on you. And you have to beg, borrow and steal time on other people's laptops. Productivity all around suffers.

Never mind my day job which, with gas prices surging over $4.00 a gallon and no relief in sight, has kept me busier than ever. Too much to do, not enough of me. By a good margin. And that cloning experiment I devised to help remedy just such a situation, well, those skin samples in the Petri dishes just don't seem to be producing much.

I think I'm stuck with just me. And a to-do list that only seems to grow longer.

Oh well Wally.

Alas, a fancy new laptop is set to arrive any time now. So I'll be up and running and back to me ole self soon me hopes. Blogging, ranting, blathering, all that good stuff.

And I'm backed up, too, on stuff. No, not that kind of backed up. Coffee and beer keeps the pipes in good running order.

I mean that, although I've away from the blog, I haven't been away from the outdoors.

Nope. Just the opposite.

There's been hiking and bird watching at Libby Hill in Gray. Paddling Fort to Fort on the Kennebec River. A big 10th anniversary celebration for the Cohos Trail. A marvelous day of sea kayaking off of Stonington and Deer Isle. Time at camp up north in Elliotsville Plantation. Trail maintenance on my newly adopted section of the AT nearby. A bit o' hiking and camping in The County. The Maine Bike Rally in Fryeburg.

So, where is it dammit, you asks? The stories, the photos?

Like I tells you, been busy, been laptop-less, been beered-over, been, well, you get the pitcher, er, I mean picture.

Anyhoos, I'm back. You'll see. And read. Right after I get outs for the weekend on the western half of the Grafton Loop Trail.

Next week. You and me. Here. Trail Head.

K?

I'm always on the lookout for a new hiking hat. Sometimes I just don't know it.

Take today, for example.

I stopped into the Freeport General Store this afternoon on my way home from city to country. Needed a road soda to quench the thirst, don't you know. I stuff the change in my pocket, grab the bag and turn for the door. And there it is.

A rack full of baseball hats embroidered with "Life is Crap."

I break out into a belly laugh and damn near pee myself. The guy behind the counter gives me a big smile and laughs along with me.

"Ain't they great," he says.

Absolutely!

There's one with a dog peeing on a guy's leg instead of a fire hydrant. Another with a guy throwing his golf clubs into a pond.

I go for the one with an empty keg, a pile of red cups strewn around it, and a sign on it "Out of Beer."

$9.99. Hey, what's money?!

Carey Kish photo

Life is crap, indeed. Especially when you're out of beer.

Yeah, I'm sick, I know. You too, you say. Good deal. At least we understand each other.

Can't wait to hit the trail with my new hat...

Whaddaya say? You likes me new lid?

I've just got to wonder.

There's breaking news out today about an undiscovered tribe photographed deep in the Amazon jungles of Brazil.

An undiscovered tribe in Brazil? Or a MOAC trip that never returned home to Maine? Hmmm...
AP photo

I looked closely at the photos, I did.

And it makes me think, you know, just when did I last see that intrepid MOAC trip leader Dan Kidd of Limington and that crew of Maine adventurers that went to the Amazon, built a raft and floated down river?

Could be them in the pics, I tells you. Could be.

Maybe not so undiscovered after all.

Easy way to find out: Air drop a few cases of cold beer and couple extra large pepperoni pizzas into 'em. If they take to it like flies on, well, you know, then we know they're MOACers.

Now, I can't say for sure that that's what caused the ruckus on the highway this fine Memorial Day, but there was some kind camper fire going on in Scarborough that caused holiday traffic to get snarled up for a couple hours.

Sounds mighty suspicious I tells you. Good chance the guy was trying to cook while driving.

Jeez, how many times do I have to warn you not to do that! It just ain't safe. Just ask the guy in Germany who tried to grill sausages and drive. (A potential Darwin Award winner!). Not good.

Of course, having a belly full o' alcohol, three times over the legal limit in fact, probably didn't help matters. Small point, I realize, yes, but still. I mean, c'mon, that's expecting a lot, man.

To hold the steering wheel, hold a can of beer, and cook the meat. With all that going on, there's an awful good chance you're gonna burn the damn sausages!

So please, my camper friends, be safe on the road this summer... Don't grill and drive!

May 5th. Cinco de Mayo and all. A cause for celebration, for sure, but then again, what isn't?

Excuse me for a moment while I hike over to the fridge for another Corona and a wedge of lime...

Ahhh. Much better now. Where was I?

Oh yes, May 5th. Oh ho, the memories of this day!

One year ago today...

... I was in Key West with my bro going a little nutty. How can you not in Key West? I mean, c'mon. It's the land of Jimmy Buffett. Margaritaville. Party Central. Hot sun. Beaches. Palm trees. Lazy days.

For four glorious days and three nights we reveled in the sights and sounds of this island paradise. By day, exploring on foot and by old bicycle. Duval Street. The Truman Annex. Hemingway's House. Mallory Square. Caroline Street. Captain Tony's. Sloppy Joe's. The Chart Room.

By afternoon (there was no missing the free happy hour by the pool each afternoon at 4 PM) and night, holed up at the most excellent and comfy and hospitable Eden House. If there is a heaven on Earth it may well be the Eden House. Mike, you guys rock!

Key West is an adventure unto itself. Nirvana, pure and simple. A mis-adventure perhaps. You go and you never want to come back. Or work. Or do anything much useful ever again. You just want to have fun 24/7/365. Become an official citizen of the Conch Republic and tell the rest of the world to go... well, you know.

I like that. A lot. Too much, dammit.

A contingent of Maine and NH crazies were supposed to go back again this year, be there right now, in fact, but we couldn't pull it off. Next year, for damn certain. You can count on it Parrot Heads.

"I went down to Captain Tony's to get out of the heat..." Duval Street, Key West.
Carey Kish photo

Hanging out with a Key West icon: Captain Tony Taracino.
Carey Kish photo

The Eden House. Heaven on Earth!
Carey Kish photo

The pool and palms at happy hour. Oh!
Carey Kish photo

Hail to the Conch Republic!
Carey Kish photo

Toughing out the day at the beach.
Carey Kish photo

Getting around the Keys is easy when you have an old bike and lots of time.
Carey Kish photo

Hmmm...
Carey Kish photo

The other end of Route 1. Is that cool or what?
Carey Kish photo

Sunset from Mallory Square.
Carey Kish photo

"...strolling down the avenue that's known as A1A..."
Carey Kish photo

Only 90 miles to Havana.
Carey Kish photo

Parrot Head Central! Jimmy, we love you man! That's my bro and me, and Tim (middle), our Jimmy Buffett tour guide.
Carey Kish photo

You been to Key West? Stories to tell??

Thirty-one years ago today...

A scared and lonely boy from Bangor, Maine hiked from Amicalola Falls to Springer Mountain, and made his first camp 0.2 miles further on. It was the first day and night on a 5 1/2 month journey along the 2,100-mile Appalachian Trail to Mount Katahdin. My, oh, my!

Btw, what song was popular at this very time? "Margaritaville" by Jimmy Buffett! Ironic, eh?

You-know-who at the start of the AT atop Springer Mountain, Georgia, May 5, 1977.
Carey Kish photo

All these many years and trail miles later...

At least you haven't been stuck sitting on a toilet inside a trailer... for TWO YEARS straight!

Good lord, I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Or throw up.

How unbelievable. How sad, how very sad. Life just isn't very kind sometimes, is it?

My goodness I'm so glad it's Friday. News like this really does make me want to turn it all off, chuck everything, and head somewhere far, far out of range...

Hmmm.

While you and me and the rest of Joe. Q. Public were taking care of our daily business, working our jobs, living our lives, a smidgen of interesting news passed by without notice.

Say what?

Did you know there's been a bill introduced in Congress to allow visitors - that would be folks like you and me - to carry guns?

Yep.

What's that? You just spit out your coffee? (Or beer depending upon what time of day you're reading this).

Kind of my thought, too, when I heard tell of this news from someone in-the-know at an outdoor gathering the other day.

Packing heat in the parks. For protection. I think.

{quizzical look on face, more deep thought here}

S. 2619: A bill to protect innocent Americans from violent crime in national parks, was introduced by Sen. Tom Coburn, R-Oklahoma, on February 8th.

From the bill:

"The Secretary of the Interior shall not promulgate or enforce any regulation that prohibits an individual from possessing a firearm including an assembled or functional firearm in any unit of the National Park System or the National Wildlife Refuge System."

Read that as: If you're legal to carry a weapon you can carry it without a problem inside units of the National Park System. Ostensibly, "to protect innocent Americans from violent crime."

I see.

Acadia National Park scene.
Photo courtesy National Park Service

Ok, so. I'm all for the second amendment, the right of the individual to own and bear arms. Make no mistake. Never mind that I myself am not a gun owner (although I've had plenty of training in the use of firearms). I don't hunt, never have. And I've never felt threatened enough to warrant the purchase of a gun.

But by gorry, you want a gun - a whole cabinet full of 'em - you go for it. Legally, though, all the way. By the book. Period, end of story. Own guns, be happy. But that's you, your rights, your freedom.

But carry a gun (legally) in a National Park?

Eeeek. Doesn't seem to fit the mood of our parks and why we visit them. You know, wilderness, trees, rushing rivers, mountains, campfires, fresh air, escape from the city life and all its cares and worries - all that stuff.

Picture me hiking up some trail enjoying the day when I come upon you setting on a rock cleaning your Colt. Maybe kids are about. A bear wanders up. You flip out, shoot the damn thing. Miss. Hit kid. Tragedy.

Dunno. Could happen.

Far more likely: I'm enjoying life by the evening campfire, me and my pals. It gets late and the campground gets quiet. Except you and your party next door don't. You get louder. And louder. I go over to ask you nicely to tone it down. Only thing is, while I've been drinking a few beers, you and your buds have been heavy into tequila shots (oops, bad choice of words) and are trashed. We mix it up. Gun comes out. I go dead.

Been there. And almost seen it. Don't want to again.

Look, bad things happen in National Parks. There's plenty of evidence to prove it. Murders, rapes, robberies. Bad, bad stuff. But on a per visitor basis, are the statistics for violent crime any higher in National Parks than elsewhere in the U.S., our big cities for example?

Is allowing every Joe and Jane who wants to legally carry a gun to do so inside of a National Park a good idea? Is that the answer to increased safety on our federal parks and lands?

I'd like to step out of the Trail Head box for a moment today to salute Keith Inman of Waterville.

Mr. Inman, you are my true hero!

Why, you ask? What could possibly merit such kudos?

Well, only in Maine I believe would a man assemble a bunch of scrap parts (value: $30) and a couple of wheels purchased at none other than Marden's (value: $13) and then cobble together a home-made snowplow.

A snowplow that would hence be mounted to the front of his...

... '98 Honda Civic sedan!

OK, I think I'm about to pee my pants. (Doubly so, being the proud but plow-less owner of a '98 Honda Civic myself).

Yep, quite the riggin' according to Inman after all the friggin'.

"Two bolts hold it on -- that's it," he said.

Wicked.

Such a unique invention is not without it's problems, though, as you might well imagine.

The plowing goes along pretty well, says Inman, but "I can't hit the snowbank hard, because it could set off the car airbags."

Ok, that's it. Too late. Already peed.

Says his wife Irene: "He is supposed to take it easy, but this gives him something to do."

God love you both. And thank you.

So today, my Dear Trail Headers, we are obliged to tip our red plaid fleece hats to the latest in Maine ingenuity, that ever-present can-do spirit that drives our independent and self-sufficient natures here in the Great State of Maine: Keith Inman and his home-made Honda Civic-mounted snowplow!

Sunset last evening was amazing here on the edge of Baxter Woods. To the west streaks of pink across a deepening blue sky. To the east the tree tops ablaze with a brilliant golden light. A fine Friday happy hour show if ever there was one.

Carey Kish photo

Carey Kish photo

This morning dawned classic gray November, cold on the nose as I walked, hands in pockets, through Evergreen Cemetery to the duck pond in the far corner, a favorite spot.

Carey Kish photo

My mallard friends were there, glad to see me apparently, their plump figures bobbing and weaving across the water. I had nothing to offer but a smile and a hello but they didn't seem disappointed.

Carey Kish photo

It was calm as I circled the pond and headed back through the tombstones. The calm before the storm, a nor-easter of sorts predicted for the afternoon.

It's dark now and the storm has arrived in earnest. Pelting rain and swirling gusts. By morning the tree branches will be bare, our fall colors in shifting piles along the street, to be picked up by the winds and carried off.

The march toward winter moves inexorably on.

So it goes.

Carey Kish photo

You and me, we're bombarded these days with pleas from a wide variety of sources hoping for a little bit of our money. We all have our favorite charities and causes that we contribute to, and since budgets are tight (I mean c'mon, whose isn't?) there's only so much cash available to be doled out.

That said, I'm a big believer that many hands make light work. Same with giving. Like you, I don't have $100 to give to every group I'd like to. But I do have $5 and $10 and $20 to give here and there. And when that level of giving is spread across many wallets, well, that's when things start to happen and funds get raised. It's the power in numbers thing.

What's all this about, you say?

It's about a couple of causes near and dear to my heart, and likely yours. Two specifically that we've talked about here at Trail Head: Portland Trails and the Cohos Trail. They are worthy of a bit a of a reminder if you will.

Portland Trails

You'll remember that some unctuous cretin(s) made off with Portland Trails' expensive and preicous brushcutter last month.

Not a nice move you &*%^$#@!!!

Well, I got a nice letter from Nan Cumming, Executive Director of PT, late last week informing me that they had raised $400 toward a new machine.

Woo-hoo! That's great news.

But a new brushcutter costs upwards of $2000, so while the $400 makes a big dent in the price tag, it leaves them shy of what they need.

So I'm taking it upon myself here to ask you all to match me each another $5 or so (more if you can do it) to further help Portland Trails.

Whaddaya say?

Good, I figured I could count on you.

Send whatever you can to:

Portland Trails
"New Brushcutter"
305 Commercial Street
Portland, Maine 04101

Thanks!

The Cohos Trail

In late July and early August I was fortunate enough to be able to thru-hike New England's newest long distance hiking route, the Cohos Trail, from Notchland to Canada through the wild and remote north country of Coos County, New Hampshire.

It's a tremendous walk, one that I highly recommend if you've got a couple of weeks to spare, and seeing as it's just next door the logistics aren't all that daunting either.

In any case, this was a hike with a purpose. Huddling with the good folks from The Cohos Trail Association, we concocted a plan to make the hike into a fundraiser to raise some sorely needed cash for this outstanding trail that is part boots-on-the-ground pathway and part vision-of-what-can-and-will-be.

Well, with the CTA folks working furiously behind the scnes and me out there walking through the hills and mountains, together we raised some big time awareness of this tremendous recreational resource, with the locals of Coos County, with folks downstate in NH, and throughout New England.

All good. More people should know about the Cohos Trail, and then go check out its outstanding beauty for themselves.

In addition, TCTA stewards and trail big-wigs Pete and Lainie Castine tell me that nearly $2,000 was raised by the thru-hike campaign.

Not bad at all. Thanks to many of you for helping out.

Again, however, more $$$ is needed to move the CT effort forward, to spark a quantum leap if you will.

So I ask once more if you can let go with a touch more of your beer money, $5 or $10 or more, and give the CT folks another charge of greenbacks. If a few hundred us do it just imagine the difference we can make!

Send your Lincolns to:

The Cohos Trail Association
c/o Pete & Lainie Castine
266 Danforth Road
Pittsburg, NH 03592

Many thanks in advance. Trail Headers rock!

Fridays make me absolutely crazy I tells ya!

It's the weekend... Woo-hoo!

What's yer plan Stan? You gonna get outside and play?!

I juz git krazy when Friday comes along!
PHD photo

The last couple of weekends couldn't have been more fun, and couldn't have been more different from each other.

Ain't life great?!

The last weekend in August I spent "on the river." The Kennebec River that is. Up thayah in The Forks, pop. 35.

Two glorious days of rafting with good friends by day, smacking into Big Mama, getting buried at Whitewasher, plunging through Magic.

Me and the crew heading into Whitewasher, Kennebec River.

In the foamy chaos of Whitewasher.

Taking the hit at Magic, Kennebec River.

What a crew! Both sides ahead!!!

By night we hooted and hollered in camp, and played and laughed til our sides ached and our faces hurt from smiling.

All good. Maine the way life is. If only every weekend could be so much fun.

But alas, it can be!

Last weekend I shunned all regular outdoor activities to travel en masse with friends to the Jimmy Buffett Labor Day Weekend show at Gillette Stadium in Foxboro MA.

The all-day party in the parking lot was more fun than a human can really tolerate in such a short span of time, but with determination and spirit we managed.

Occasionally throughout the day's Parrot Head parking lot party I would stop and think and smile: "Hey, all this fun and we still have a Bufeftt concert to go to!"

Go figure. Fun x 10. Not for the faint of heart.

And then it was time. Time to shuffle with the crowd across Route 1 to the show. Great seats on the rail in the upper deck. Beer stand close at hand. Handy restrooms. Heaven.

Jimmy comes on and plays and plays and plays. The old and the new. The mellow and the rock. I never sat. Nobody did. We were transported as only Jimmy Buffett can do to That One Particular Harbor, to Margaritaville, to that special island place far away where fun and good times reign supreme and no one ever seems to have to work.

Buffett parking lot parties are soooo much fun!
Carey Kish photo

Our very own sand beach and slice or paradise.
Carey Kish photo

Buffett wannabees.
Carey Kish photo

Man(?)ning the grill.
Carey Kish photo

Parrotheads!
Carey Kish photo

The tiki bar is open!
Carey Kish photo

Yours truly sipping a Corona.
Carey Kish photo

Thank you as always Jimmy for the grand tour.

I'm back to reality now. Sort of. Well, not really. Maybe next week. Or maybe never.

Why is it I have an sudden urge to book a flight to Key West??? Hmmm.

Some island time sure would be nice right about now...
Carey Kish photo

I was over at Yerxa's in South Portland the other day getting my chainsaw repaired, and in the course of conversation with the guys there, learned that Portland Trails had recently had their very expensive and very precious brushcutter stolen.

Let's you and me help Portland Trails replace their stolen brushcutter, similar to the one pictured above. See end of this blog post for more info on how to make a donation to Portland Trails.
Photo courtesy Billy Goat Industries

Sadly, I confirmed this information today with Nan Cumming, Executive Director of Portland Trails.

The brushcutter "is (was) easily our most used piece of equipment for maintaining trails year round as well as for cutting new trails. It was stolen as we were cutting new trails," said Cumming.

Unbelievable. Unacceptable. Outrageous.

This is exactly why you should never say you've seen or heard it all. Because there will always be another cretin(s) to come along and take things to a new low.

And this is sooooooo low.

That's where this story will bottom out, however. Because I have a plan:

With the exception of the nasty SOBs that did the stealing in this case, just about everybody knows how much good Portland Trails has done for trails in Greater Portland.

Their board members, trustees, staff and volunteers have done an amazing job over the course of some 16 years to bring miles of multi-use trails to thousands of people for walking, hiking, bicycling, running, socializing and much more.

Portland Trails has become a model for other cities and towns acorss the country! We the community of people in Maine who use and enjoy the Portland Trails system are indebted to you all. And that's exactly why I believe you will have a new brushcutter before long.

Because we're having a fundraiser starting right now, here, today. Running until we get you the $2000 needed to replace what you have lost. And I'm betting it won't take long.

I'm writing out a check for $25 to Portland Trails right now. And I'm hoping all my Trail Head friends will do the same. Whatever you can afford: $5, $10, $50, $100. Together we'll get it done.

So please say no to petty thieves and yes to Portland Trails. Send your donations to:

Portland Trails
"New Brushcutter"
305 Commercial Street
Portland, Maine 04101

Thank you!

Die hard Jimmy Buffett fans will no doubt have picked up on the title of my blog post the other day.

It is, of course, from the the hilarious ditty of a song God's Own Drunk, the last track on Living and Dying in 3/4 Time, my most listened-to Buffett CD of all-time...

"I promised my brother-in-law that I'd go up and watch his still while he went into town to vote. It was right up there on the mountain where the map said it would be. But lemme tell you friends and nieghbors, it weren't no ordinary still. It stood up there on that mountainside like, like a huge golden oak. Awww, and there was God's yeller moon shining on the cool, clear evenin'. God's little lanterns jus a twinklin' on and off in the heavens. And like I 'splained to you all before I ain't no drinking man. But temptation got the best of me and I took a slash. Whew! That yellow whiskey running down my throat like honey dew vine water and I took another slash. I took another and another and another and before ya knew it..."

"... I was God's own drunk, a fearless man. That's when I first saw the bear. He was a Kodiak lookin' feller 'bout 19 feet tall. Ha rambled up on that hillside 'specting me to do one of two things, flip or fly. I didn't do either one. It hung him up. He looked me right in my eyes and my eyes were a lot redder than his was. It hung him up. He come sniffin' 'round my body trying to smell fear, but he ain't gonna smell no fear 'cause I'm God's own drunk and a fearless man. It hung him up..."

Maybe that's what happened to me and my bear visitor. I'd had a few pops at the pub down the road apiece, yes, but I wasn't anything near tipsy. Just plain trail happy.

Maybe just tired enough, though, to give him a go for his money, so to speak. Enough sass and backhandin' from this here hiker to feign a smidgen of Jimmy Buffett-like courage so that it plum hung him up.

Hard tellin'.

But I do know this: There's one hiker that's still scratching head over that night. And likely one bear somewhere out there in the NH woods that's doing the same.

So where am I goin' with all this silly-talk?

Nowhere really.

'Cept to the Jimmy Buffett concert this coming Sunday at Gillette Stadium.

Woo-hoo!!!

With tickets to a Jimmy Buffett concert this Sunday in Foxboro it's going to be 5 o'clock everywhere this weekend. The usual outdoor activities will just have to wait...
Carey Kish photo

Yep, I'll be outside this weekend, but up to pretty much no good, except fun and frivolity, parrot-heading around the parking lot at Foxboro with 65,000 other crazed Buffett freaks waiting for the show to start.

Bring it on Jimmy. The fins are up and we're circling around!

But oh Come Monday...

Wonder how many other Maine Parrotheads will be shirking their usual weekend outdoor activities of hiking and boating and biking et al for a trip to Buffett?

You??

If you look to the right of the page you'll now see that Trail Head entries have been broken out into categories instead of simply by month and year.

Categories like Hiking, Backpacking, Skiing, Paddling, Beer, and my favorite The Poop.

Carey Kish photo

It took a good month of spare time to do this categorizing task (there's a little more to do yet), but that's payback for not doing it all along for the last three years. Lazy me.

Anyway, along the way it was fun to review the entries and comments and realize all over again what fun this blogging thing has been.

I hope you agree.

And hope that you might, when you have some spare time of your own, pick a favorite Trail Head category or two and peruse a bit. We've been a lot of places outdoors together, you all and me, and little reminiscing can be a lot of fun, instructive and downright healthy. Hopefully we'll get a few laughs out of it.

Carey Kish photo

Btw, could somebody forward this to the Pooper Peeker. Thanks.

Yep, hump day. Two days til the weekend. Gray, a bit drizzly. Notta much goin on.

Except for this stack of stuff here, some of which might actually be of interest to you. I mean, hey, what else have you got to0 do right now? Work, or something??

Hah!

Portland makes the grade again
Portland, Maine has once again been recognized as a great place to live. Imagine that?! It's true. Outside magazine calls ranks Portland as one of the Top 30 Best Towns in America to live. Nice, yes, but must every such review include mention of LL Bean and lobsters? And stuff like this: "Young professionals wear LL Bean fleeces and duck boots for all manner of business, even dates." Ayuh. Gag.

Seeking the Peak
The 7th Annual Seek-the Peak Hike-A-Thon to the summit of Mount Washington will be held on Saturday, July 28th. The event raises much-needed funds to support the Mount Washington Observatory. A fun day for a very good cause.

Symposium for Air & Climate
Speaking of the Mount Washington Observatory, some this country's leading scientists will be getting together on September 7-8th at Bretton Woods to discuss air quality and climate change. But it's not just for the academics (that would be mighty boring, now wouldn't it?) It's for real people like you and me, folks who care about said topics and want to know more in plain English. The whole shebang is sponsored by the MWO as part of their 75th Anniversary.

Siberian Trails
Yeah, like I needed to know about another far away long distance hiking trail. Dammit. But alas, too late. It's now on "the list." What, you say? The Great Baikal Trail, a 1,300-mile long route circling Lake Baikal in eastern Russia (that would be Siberia). From all I've heard it's a magnificent area, and Lake Baikal--2,000 km long and holding 1/5 of the world's fresh water (see, I paid attention in geography class!)--connects 7 national parks and reserves. Whoa!

Photos courtesy The Great Baikal Trail

Sweet! Gotta go now for sure.

Grafton Loop Trail - West Side
For a hiking adventure a little closer to home than Siberia, try the 22-mile stretch of the Grafton Loop Trail. Newly opened in June the trail connects Route 26 and the AT atop Old Speck via Stowe, Sunday River Whitecap and Slide Mountains. Two campsites along the way would seem to make it a nice weekend endeavor. Check. Download the new map and go.

Excellent Lakes Region hiking guide
The last time I was up Fryeburg way I happened upon a new hiking guide at the Jockey Cap Store: Hikes in and Around Maine's Lakes Region, by Marita Wiser. The booklet contains 42 hikes of all interests and abailities, including a few that this trail sleuth had never heard of (so naturally I plunked down the $8.50 right then and there dee-yah). Check it out...

OK friends and neighbors, dat's all I got too-day. What's happening with you all?

Think Disneyland on a smaller scale. With happy-faced park workers dressed in snappy forest green polo shirts, chinos and gum-soled Bean boots. And possible attractions like the kayak sluice run, the fly fishing river, the duck hunting gallery. Maybe backpack and camp in a virtual wilderness. Or climb a scale model of Mount Katahdin. Then go shopping and sleep in a swank hotel and dine on martinis and lobsters.

Who knows?

But it may all come to be if outdoor retail giant and Maine icon L.L. Bean has it's way on a 700-acre piece of land it owns off I-295 in Freeport.

Yep. An L.L. Bean theme park, complete with outdoor adventures, a golf course, hotels and restaurants. Family-friendly, of course.

All right here in our own backyard. And soon, as Bean is apparently "on a fast track to make the project happen."

Hmmm.

Wonder if that has anything to do with major competitor Cabela's and it's planned mega development in Scarborough?

Think I'll don my 3-D glasses and watch it all play out...

What's your take on a L.L. Bean theme park?

You all remember Colleen Stone, MaineToday.com "From Away" blogger extraordinaire, who disappeared to New Jersey last fall?

Well, not so much disappeared. More like she moved there to take a new job with NJ.com.

Anyways, missing our blogger friend and her daily musings, and hearing nary a peep from the Meadowlands of North Jersey for sometime now, we got worried.

Jersey City is a tough neighborhood. Things happen. Maybe she was done in by too much thin crust pizza. Or bakery products. Or worse: OD'd on pork roll. The horror!

But alas, no such bad stuff has befallen Ms. Stone. Thankfully.

A note from Jersey arrived in my inbox late last week confirming that all is indeed well, if a bit hectic, in Stone-ville NJ.

Found! Former From Away blogger and friend Colleen Stone in New Jersey!
Photo courtesy Colleen Stone

Colleen tells me she actually likes Jersey, with the exception of the "old lady upstairs who never sleeps, throws her trash down the stairs and every morning exactly at 6:30 a.m. does something upstairs that sounds a lot like she's cutting plywood with a handsaw."

Now doesn't that just sound like an entry from From Away, or what?!

Despite the dearth of free time Colleen and Paul have managed to get out some, visiting Manhattan, and enjoying "cheesesteaks and good Belgian Ales" in Philadelphia.

Getting to the great outdoors from their very urban environs is a problem, though. They are, however, planning an exploratory hike up to the Catskill Mountains. Have to wait and see how that goes.

So, if you too were wondering about From Away Colleen, well nows you knows a little...

Hopefully we'll get another update...

It's Thursday. Might as well be the weekend. I mean come on, let's get on with it already...

Given my half-unpacked from last weekend, half-packed for this weekend state of disarray, I don't have much today, but here's a few tidbits you may be interested in:

Traveling in Newfoundland and Labrador
If you missed the great Portland Trails annual meeting last week and Dick Anderson's program on the IAT, well, you've got another shot. Tonight at 7 PM at the monthly Traveler's Club at the Maine Audubon Gilsand Farm Center in Falmouth. It's a terrific show!

17th Annual National Toboggan Championships
The Camden Snow Bowl is hosting this wild event this coming weekend. Register your own toboggan team and join in the competition or just come to watch. It's a hoot! And maybe get in a little skiing on the quaint trails of the Snow Bowl.

"After a long day hunting, there's nothing like wrapping your paw around a cold bottle of beer"
Yup, beer for dogs. Who woulda thunk it? A 'Kwispelbier' made with beef extract and malt. Yummers! I'd prefer a pale ale myself. But then I'm not a dog. Not that kind anyway.

Studying climate change
It's good to know somebody is looking into why we don't seem to get much snow these days.

Extreme snowboarding anyone?
Cool. Looks pretty doable, eh?

Rubbing antlers with the high-brow deer
Now that's a ski shack, wouldn't you say! I think I could make do there...

Snow reports A-OK at Maine's ski areas
Despite the dearth of snowfall this winter Maine's ski areas are making do pretty well. Conditions for this weekend are promising, so pick your favorite slopes and get on out there! And we might even pick up some of the natural stuff out of this Friday storm. Wouldn't that be a bonus!

Shawnee Peak happenings
Friday night up in Bridgton Shawnee Peak is holding its Moolight Charity Challenge, while Saturday is the Mountain Dew Vertical Challenge, a great day of racing for the whole family. It's all good fun for good causes.

The Big Chill & skiing at Burke Mountain, Vermont
That's the weekend's plan for this boy. A weekend luau of sorts with college friends (our 20-somethingth "Big Chill" event in a row) in Lancaster NH, complete with limitless amounts of food, music, laughs and a hot tub. And a day's fine skiing at one of my favorite areas, Burke Mountain in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. I might even pop into Wildcat on the ride home Sunday afternoon for a few runs down the steeps.

Finally, an aside...
I was sadly reminded this week of how precious every day of this life is. A dear friend and former colleague of mine in California lost his 26 year old son, a tragedy no parent should have to face. My heart goes out to him and his family. Folks, just a reminder: Every day is a gift, for there is no guarantee of a tomorrow. For ourselves and those we love and care about. Get up each day and live it, fully, consciously, with spirit. Know that life is the best game in town. Be happy. Be loving. And make sure those close to you know how you feel.

What's going on this weekend with you, my Trail Head friends?

If you've been missing our blogger friend Colleen Stone of "From Away" fame, not to worry.

You can check out "Dispatches from Jersey" for a few laughs on her transition to the Garden State.

First, a shocking revelation from our wayward ex-Maineah: "I do love Jersey City."

And this, apparently, before she has sampled any pork roll! That's going to put her over the edge. She ain't never coming back.

Then there's the adventures on the PATH train to the mall:

"Not having a car (Paul has it in Maine for the next couple weeks) is a liberating and debilitating experience. Liberating because I don't have to worry about finding parking. Debilitating because lugging 30 pounds of stuff from Target back home from the PATH stop sort of sucks. Note to self: Bring expedition pack next time. And I thought I wouldn't be using that again soon. First, Mt. Washington. Next, the mall! I think the Newport Mall is something like a 4,000-footer. If I don't take the escalator, maybe I can say I bagged a peak here."

Peak bagging by Colleen in N.J. Who da thunk it?

Up where I was it rained some, blew some, but was mostly nice and sunny.

A fine weekend overall.

Some golf, some kayaking, a scenic boat ride, some sitting around the campfire, some bald eagle watching.

And all the fun and food and yucking it up that a person could possibly want.

Yep, nothing like 20 or so old college friends getting together for our umpteenth summer reunion (long story, but we we call it "Big Deck") at my friend Kathy's camp on beautiful Branch Lake in Ellsworth.

It never fails to be an outstanding, if a bit exhausting, weekend in the great outdoors.

Hope yours was fun, too. What did you do?

Despite the fact that I didn't get in a single boot print of hiking over the weekend, I am still strangely compelled to post this photo...

Maybe it's the fond memories of my trek across Wales a year ago (the photo was taken high in the hills above Llangollen). Could be the big grin that only a big hike can bring out.

Or it could be that baseball hat...

Hard to say. Hmmm.

Anyway, wow, what a weekend, eh?

Portland, Maine. Great Adventure City.

But you and me, we knew that already.

It's nice, though, for our fair city to be recognized nationally on occasion.

And so it was in the September issue of National Geographic Adventure magazine. (Which, by the way, if you're not a subscriber, you should be. You'll never want to work again, I swear!).

Portland is listed among some pretty heady company, including Las Vegas, Portland OR, Spokane and Washington DC. Not bad for a little city, eh?

Unfortunately, from there you can tell the blurb is written by someone from away. "The Scene," as it is described, says we Portland adventurers like to escape to Popham Beach, paddle the coves of Casco Bay and bike Bradbury Mountain.

Well, I kinda think we Portlanders are more likely to hit the beaches of Willard, Crescent or Scarborough before driving north to Popham. And we paddle the islands of Casco Bay and hike Bradbury Mountain (the mountain biking trails are in the woods across Route 9), but maybe I'm splitting hairs.

At least they didn't insert an "ayuh", picture anybody in red and black plaid, or insist that we dine on lobsters every day.

Regardless, thanks for the mention NGA. We'll take it.

But next time you come visit, get hold of one of us locals and we'll show you around some good, we will.

Ayuh.

It's Thursday and high time to start looking ahead to the weekend, dontcha think?

I do. It's only right.

On tap (oh, don't I like the sound of that already!)...

Some trail maintenance up on the AT near the East and West Carry Ponds.

Yep, a run through with the chainsaw to clear out any summer blowdowns. Maybe knock a few out-of-kilter bog bridges back into place. A little brush clipping here and there. And we'll flag some cedars that will make good candidates for new bog bridges next season.

It's time again to get back up to my section of the AT to make sure it's clear for hiker travel.

That, a swim in the pond, a couple of frosty beverages, and a pack load of laughs with my buddy Dana ("Dana the Maintainah") and all will be good.

Next, it's on to the booming metropolis of The Forks (pop. 35) and the Kennebec River.

And a couple of wild runs down the rapids with friends in my raft. Damn, I just hate that! Big Mama, Whitewasher, Big Kahuna, Magic Hole. Woo-hoo! All good.

And time again to get "on the river" (the Kennebec, that is) and splash down thru the rapids.

Seeing as how it's supposed to be in the 90s this weekend, there'll be no better place to be than "on the river" with good friends, a cooler full of emergency supplies and water, water--glorious water--everywhere.

That's the weekend as I see it.

How's yours shaping up???

I just came across an interesting tip from the USDA Forest Service regarding home firewood and the spread of insects and disease.

Many folks who have wood piles at home probably think nothing of loading up a couple of bundles of firewood on their way to camp or to their favorite campsite, right?

Don't do it, say foresters in the know.

Cut firewood that sits around your house may contain invasive insects and diseases that you can unknowingly spread to other areas by bringing firewood with you when you camp.

Creepy creatures like the Asian longhorned beetle, emerald ash borer and sirex wood wasp are just a few of the nasties that may live in your firewood and would like to hitch a ride with you and infest a new place.

So don't give the little buggers a chance.

Instead, leave the home firewood at home and purchase local firewood at your camping destination.

Makes good sense to me.

Who knew?!

Last March, while in Texas for a visit with my Mom, I went to see my father's grave for the first time since he passed away in November 2004.

My Dad, a decorated veteran of 39 months of combat duty with the United States Army during World War II, is buried on a hilltop in the Veterans National Cemetery in Dallas.

It's a beautiful and peaceful place, there among his fellow veterans who served this country and fought and sacrified so much for our own freedom and that of countless others.

My Mom at my father's grave, US Army veteran Joseph Kish, Veterans National Cemetery, Dallas, Texas.

On this Memorial Day I remember Dad and pay tribute to him, and to all the men and women who have served and sacrificed for our nation throughout its history.

Thank you.

It's ironic but fitting that Dad, ever the manager, is buried across from the cemetery administration building. No doubt he is watching over and directing how things are being run.

On the walkway up to the admin building there is a large chunk of granite with a plaque attached. On it is a poem that I'd like to share with you today, this special day of remembrance:

The Bivouac of the Dead
By Theodore O'Hara

The muffled drum's sad roll has beat
The soldier's last tattoo;
No more on life's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On Fame's eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread,
And Glory guards, with solemn round,
The bivouac of the dead.

I found it a bit ironic, preparing as I am to leave the United States for a few weeks to go hiking in France, that I should happen upon a poem entitled "America" by Ray Bradbury in Wednesday's Wall Street Journal.

Do click through and read it. It's beautiful and moving.

Especially now, during this rather ugly and dispiriting debate over immigration.

Whatever your political stripe, we are all truly fortunate to be one thing: AMERICANS. We are FREE!

Yet, all too often, we seem to take for granted what we have, the things that so much of the world yearns for. Opportunities for us are everywhere, for a better job, better place to live, new toys that provide for leisure fun. The freedom and mobility and means to go and do what we please when we please.

But even today, in the 21st century, a large part of our world is terribly oppressed and impoverished, and have little or none of these things, and worse, little hope of a brighter future.

It is no wonder, therefore, that America is the "freedom forest" to them. From afar they see clearly what we don't. "We are the dream that other people dream." Imagine!

Food for much thought. And concious thanks. Our good fortune is not to be taken for granted. And we need to give something back, however much or little we may have. To those who have less, here at home and abroad.

So next when you and I walk through the freedom forest, let's take a long moment to really see the forest amid the trees. It's quite a beautiful place!

About two months ago, just after having finalized plans for a two-week hike in Europe and purchased the most expensive airline ticket of my life...

My right knee goes.

Any up or down on the trail or even at home on the stairs brings sharp pains enough to make me wince. And I can't put any weight on it.

Uh oh. The Hobbit's been hobbled.

My doc proceeds to diagnose patellar tendonitis.

Great. A matching pair now.

Getting old sucks, don't it.

What to do, I asks?

Knee strengthening exercises, a steady diet of Ibuprofen and laying low (for me that means staying off the trail) for a few weeks should do the trick, he says.

OK, so I do the first two, buy a heavy duty knee brace, and completely skip his third suggestion.

And now, six weeks later, I'm happy to report that I think I'm good to go.

So, three weeks from today me and a friend are headed off to Corsica as planned, bum knees, backpacks and all.

The GR20 Route across the island will no doubt pound the pee-pee out of us with an outrageous 70,000 feet of vertical gain and loss.

But I'm hoping that with the knee braces, Ibuprofen, a modicum of care and good sense (I know that's asking a lot), some duct tape if necessary, and some Corsican beer, we'll make it through okay.

That's the plan anyway.

I'm not big on letting dreams slip away. So I'll drag myself along if I must, but I'm going to complete this trek...

... always causing some kind of online stir, aren't they?!

Yes, the 5th of May. A good day for a margarita, wouldn't you say?! Or maybe a cold Corona with a lime.

It's always a very special day for me (not just for the Coronas), it being the nth anniversary of the start of my Appalachian Trail thru-hike, an experience forever etched deeply into my memory.

Atop Springer Mountain, Georgia and the start of the AT a "few years" ago.

Oh, those halcyon days on the trail... the many months of good times walking free in the wilds, the windy mountaintops, the deep green forests, the fine campsites and happy campfires, the magnificent sunrises and sunsets, and the unforgettable cameraderie of fellow hikers.

So, cheers today to all thru-hikers, regardless of trail. Let's celebrate! And dream of long trail journeys to come...

Life is short. Hike today. Sleep when you die.

...so I'm selling the rights to my name, too.

Hey, if Muhammed Ali can do it...

I can get a tank's worth of $$$ for it on eBay, don't ya think?!

Sigh.

I filled up the tank on the way into work this morning. Another 10.2 gallons. Another $27.35 out the door.

$2.69 a gallon is painful, but is it keeping you from going hiking?

Let's see, this tank should last the rest of the work week. But it ain't getting me to where I'm going this weekend.

Which includes a day hike east of Bangor, another on a new section of the Georges Highland Path near Rockland, and maybe one more (it's a holiday weekend after all) somewhere else.

Gonna rack up some good miles for sure. And at $2.69 a gallon and rising fast by the week, some more bucks, too.

But, the odd thing is, complain all I want, it isn't stopping me from going hiking. And hasn't stopped me from logging all those trips to Sugarloaf all winter long.

Yet.

So, I wonder... at what point will it? $3? $3.50? $4? God forbid $5 a gallon?

I don't know.

And hence my question to you: What is the breaking point? When will the price of gas affect your recreational travel? Or has it begun to already? Are you cutting back, hiking closer to home? Or are you scrimping and saving in other ways, like I am (as an ex-AT thru-hiker, I can still live on PBJs and mac & cheese for weeks if I have to), to have enough cash to fill the tank for those coveted weekend get-a-ways?

And then, of course, there's the high price of beer. Which has been slowly creeping up and has me equally concerned...

I dropped in at home for some lunch today and found the March issue of AMC Outdoors in my mailbox. Always a good thing.

Between bites I learned that the "fee demonstration program" (that's governmental-speak for "paying to park at the trailheads") has been extended for another 10 years in the White Mountain National Forest (and other federal lands).

Whoopee.

The Federal Lands Recreation Enhancement Act (FLREA) took effect on January 1, 2006.

Care is needed here. Allow me to assist with translation: "Enhancement" = tax = you & me pay.

So be it.

After ten years, I'm pretty resigned to the parking fee thing.

And I'll save any further complaining energy for the trail.

Fees remain $3 a day or a season pass for $25.

The funds collected are promised to stay local and help with trail maintenance and other trails-related work that needs doin'.

And that seems like a reasonable deal.

Hot dogs vs. sushi.

The classic cultural struggle.

Which is better? More refined? Tastier?

Colleen's sushi tour in the Old Port?

Or my visit to the iconic Bolley's Famous Franks in Augusta after a hike up that way last weekend?

Is it gonna be the all-natural fish and rice of sushi? Or the chemical-filled meat ingredients, white bread and sugar-based condiments of the hot dog?

I give the clear edge to the Bolley's dog. Several in fact, loaded up good.

Bolley ain't famous for nothing you know. Ayuh.

What's yer favorite?

Damn.

My bags were all packed and everything.

But, alas, my hopes have been dashed once again.

Guess I'll stick around for awhile, keep my day job. Unpack, make a ski plan for the weekend.

And get myself over to Cumberland Farms for another try.

Yep.

Stealthy boggers are out there. Infiltrating. Lurking.

You may catch them in the corner scribbling with pen and notepad. Or whipping our a digital camera at the most inopportune (for you) moment.

But maybe not.

More likely you'll catch them with a beer in hand.

That won't necessarily ID them, though.

But now you'll know. The truth will be out there. The warning. Anything you say and do, especially the stupid things, may just end up on a...

Blog!

I bought my blogger T-shirt last week.

Thanks to my friend John for the tip.

A friend of mine just returned from hiking in the high desert around Grand Junction, Colorado. And came across this rather interesting, if a bit unsettling, sign that I just couldn't help sharing with you...

Beware single hikers!

There is a trail out west that leads to, well, possible danger!

It's called Wedding Canyon, and apparently there's no way out once you're in.

Short of maybe chewing your arm off, of course. Or doing the Aron Ralston maneuver. Anything to escape to freedom.

So go down this path at your peril. For trouble may lurk there...

Wait a minute. Is that my tongue caught in my cheek? I believe it is!

Photo courtesy of BB-SS-LPIA.

That's right.

Sometimes justice takes time, but let the system do its thing and eventually, and thankfully, it usually works.

Such is the case for the eco-terrorists who burned down the historic old lodge at Vail Ski Resort in Vail, Colorado back in 1998. I remember that very well and was outraged. And it stuck with me.

Never mind the rest of the long laundry list of other criminal acts this cadre of eleven nasties has allegedly perpetrated.

Well, no more. I'm banking on a steady diet of bread and water for you dudes for the foreseeable future.

Hopefully this story has the morons who pulled off the spate of eco-terrorist acts here on our own home turf against Plum Creek Timber last year running a little nervous.

Very nervous in fact.

And sometime soon, may our state police announce their capture. And subsequent prosecution.

Monday morning.

I give it a 'half-ugh' for today.

And the mildly dreaded return to the alternate reality after a weekend of playing outside and whatever else suited my heart's content.

I knew things were off to a rough start as I was headed out to work, though.

I couldn't find my cell phone anywhere.

I'd had it one of my gear duffles yesterday when I was off hiking. But this morning it was nowhere to be found.

So, after wasting more time searching than I should have, I used my land line for quite possibly one of the few remaining reasons to even have a home phone anymore: I called my cell number.

Upstairs? No ring.

Pile of stuff in the hallway? Nothing.

Then I heard it. Down in the kitchen.

It was, of course, buried deep under piles of fleece and dirty socks and zip-lock bags and other assorted paraphernalia from yesterday's hike. (Just for reference I did NOT carry it with me on my hike!).

So, that's how I started my week.

You?

But with the snow outside (and I hope in the mountains too) hopefully things can only get better...

I was up at Sugarloaf over New Years weekend visiting with friends, getting in some good skiing and generally having a heckuva a good time.

While visiting, one of my dear, dear old friends who knows me quite well, surprised with with a very thoughtful belated Christmas gift. Another one of those perfect gifts for the active outdoorsperson.

Especially one like me who likes to make black bean burritos on the trail, and who very often doesn't filter his drinking water.

Quite possibly the perfect holiday gift!

The mighty Pamola has descended from the mount with great news. There's a new sheriff, I mean director, in Millinocket town today.

Jensen Bissell was chosen this morning by the Baxter State Park Authority to succeed the iconic Buzz Caverly as park director.

Bissell has been acting park director since Caverly retired earlier this year. Beyond that, I don't know much about him. But apparenty he's been with Baxter Park for some 20 years, so that's a good thing. He surely knows the turf. And the issues.

Now Jensen... may I call you Jensen? As soon as you get yourself settled in up there I'd like to chat. Just you and me.

You see, I've been trying to get an auto road built to the summit of Katahdin built for years now. You know, just like them nice entrepreneurial folks did over in NH on Mount Washington. A toll road with nice smooth pavement, lots of cars, gift shops and restaurants at the top, port-a-potties--maybe even a few slots--the whole nine yards, I say. Really get people into the wilderness experience, if you know what I mean?

Buzz just wouldn't have any part of my plan, even after I promised that a portion of the revenue generated would go directly to Gov. Baldacci to help reduce the state budget deficit. Nope. He just kept telling me to go away. Buzz was a nice guy and all, but he was always quoting that Percival Baxter fella and tellin' me about protecting the natural resource, until my ears would plug up.

Jensen, I'm hoping you'll be a bit more of a forward thinker and will give the idea a go. It's a sure winner.

What do you say Jensen?

Jensen?

You still there?

Jensen???

[Whoa! Hold the nasty emails. I'm just pulling your leg!! Congratulations Mr. Bissell. It's a big job managing our Baxter State Park. We wish you good luck!]

I like spam. The kind you eat, that is.

Yep. Good 'ol Spam.

A standard item on those early camping trips. When me and my buddies would load up our makeshift backpacks and haul cans of beans and spam and hot dogs into the woods for a weekend of roughing it in the wilderness around Bangor.

Even today I am prone to packing along a can of Spam along on a backpack trip to fry up with some potatoes or with a couple of scrambled eggs.

Mmmm. Nothing like t aroma of Spam frying in the pan. And that distinct greasy, salty taste of heavily processed fat, er, I mean meat. Yum!

But I digress on this fine post-Christmas winter morning...

For it isn't canned Spam on the menu today (although a couple of Spam slices on rye with a little mustard would go down real nice right now)...

It's the spam I've got in my inbox this AM.

What does this have to do with the outdoors you ask?

Well, other than the daily adventure of plowing through all this crap in my inbox, nothing. Nothing at all.

You see, I didn't do a damn thing of a physical nature over the holiday weekend any more strenuous than hanging out with family, going to the garage to restock the fridge with beer, or going to the john to pee, or, well, you get the idea. So this is what I'm stuck blogging about. And, therefore, what you're stuck reading.

Unless you decide to click out. And I couldn't blame you. I may do the same.

Anyway, thought I'd share some of the thoughtful Christmas spam I discovered in my electronic stocking over the weekend. Note to spammers: you don't actually believe people read this garbage, do you? You do???

Consider these catchy subject lines:

"plaguesome maggot"
"acquiesce prink"
"inscribed disintegrator"
"preen depopulate"
"shipboard extant"
"apostatize critic"
"sir travel"
"hmmmm, Huddleston"
"retroaction noseband"

Okay now, sure makes me want to click through and see what's up. You?

Spam spam spam spam. Spam. Lovely spam. Spam. Lovely spam...

Hope you all had a very nice Christmas. I'll be back when I have something even marginally more interesting to say (and after I get my Spam sandwich)!

In my younger days (please refrain from any "senior" comments--I know where you live!) I financed a lot of my adventures by working in fast food restaurants.

First at my dad's Orange Julius (for a whopping $1.40 an hour, incredibly, a legal wage then), then McDonald's, and later Wendy's.

Fry man. Dress man. Grill man. It was sweaty, greasy work. But it was also fun and put plenty of cash in my pocket so I could take off on big dreamy trips.

Like driving across the US for two months in my brother's red Chevy van, visiting as many national parks as we could squeeze in and getting a taste of personal freedom that has never been satisfied.

The next year it was a five-month thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine. 2,100 miles of life-altering adventure, walking northward, and home, with the seasons.

And finally, such work afforded me a few years of college and the essential monies for food and beer.

Good stuff. But it took money, and my stints in the burger joints made all the difference.

And that's why still to this day I have a warm spot in my heart for all who toil away in the funny uniforms asking if you'd like that super-sized. They're probably financing their dreams too.

So, at this very special time of year, please join me in a little holiday cheer and sing along in celebration of the season...

There's a veil of secrecy over 64 Balsam Drive in Millinocket. Mum's the word. Shhh!

You didn't hear it from me but there's soon to be a new director for Baxter State Park. A replacement for the recently retired Buzz Caverly.

Buzz II.

The Baxter State Park Authority is meeting next Wednesday at its compound under a cone of silence and with bellies full of turkey and stuffing to make its decision. Rumor has it that Pamola himself may attend this special gathering.

The anticipation is killing me. I can't wait. Just a hint please?!

Seriously, the new Buzz will have some pretty big shoes to fill and face many challenges. Caverly ruled the Baxter roost for more than a quarter century, and by all accounts did a fine job of adhering to the bible according to Governor Baxter and protecting this magnificent resource. It's a tough job and he managed it with aplomb.

There is growing pressure on the Baxter resource from the sheer number of people who want to love the park to death. Never mind that Baxter State Park is, for all intents and purposes, the epicenter of a growing controversy over what the future of Maine's North Woods should look like and whether or not our long history of traditional uses can survive.

So whoever is chosen for the job--congrats! And good luck. You're going to need it. But you've got a great staff and a state full of supporters who care deeply about our Baxter State Park. We wish you well.

Who will replace Buzz Caverly as Director of Baxter State Park? We'll know next week...

Sometimes you don't have to travel very far to enjoy the beauty of Mother Nature...

Baxter Woods in Portland during this morning's snowstorm.

I was out in my driveway this morning, just about to get into my car and head to work, when I heard a familiar clinking sound in the backyard.

That clinking noise, to me, signals only one thing: Somebody is climbing something! (The brilliant deduction of this semi-retired climber!).

And no doubt, there in my neighbor's yard, some thirty feet up in a maple tree and climbing higher, was an arborist from a local tree service.

I couldn't resist wandering over and watching him climb. Helmeted, harnessed and roped in, he carefully clink-clinked his way up.

Cool. Very cool.

We chatted ground-to-treetop for a few moments. I snapped a couple of photos. Then walked back to the car, glancing over my shoulder as he climbed further up among the branches.

John Colavecchio of Bartlett Tree Experts on the job this morning.

Now that's a job to have, I thought. A fine way to combine work and play. And outdoors no less. Although come the frigid days of mid-January, I might think better of such an idea...

Colavecchio climbs toward the sky.

Hey, before you all take off for the long holiday weekend, I want to say "thanks"!

Thanks for hanging out with me on Trail Head. For your comments and thoughts and ideas and humor. It sure makes my day. I hope it adds something to yours.

I don't have any pithy stuff for you today. Nothing much on the outdoors.

Rather, I sincerely hope that you all have someplace special to go, some special people in your lives to be with tomorrow. To share the big meal, enjoy a glass of wine, to sit and relax and talk, watch a little football. Together.

And maybe after the digestive processes have done their thing you can get out for a walk, a hike, some skiing. Whatever you do, enjoy. Travel safely.

I'm not sure what, if anything, this has to do with Thanksgiving, but The Desiderata is on my mind today. It just so happens to hang on the wall of my office and today I've read it again fully. It's a good reminder of what's important, how life should be lived.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Eating at Burger King is something I generally do only when on the go somewhere, I'm starving, and I just need to throw some food in my face.

I can't say that I ever really enjoyed it very much. I mean, it tastes okay going down, but you pay for it later. With that queasy, greasy feeling in your gut. And then the internal gurgling, and then often times, worse...

But, with Burger Kings disappearing rapidly all over the state, it may be harder to find one.

That's not likely to bother most of my outdoor buddies though.

In fact, my friends have pretty much forbidden me from visiting BKs when carpooling to an outdoor activity because of the noxious fumes that eminate uncontrollably from me, seemingly just minutes after ingestion of a Whopper and onion rings.

They do allow me to get coffee at BK however.

Go figure.

It's Friday.

Yes, thanks for reminding me, oh Master of the Obvious, you're saying.

I know, but it seems better to get it out there, give it some recognition. Seems to make it more real, that yes, the weekend is almost here.

On tap for this weekend (no pun intended)...

UMaine Homecoming!!

"Fill the steins to dear old Maine, shout til the rafters ring..."

The festivities with my old and crusty college mates will include a variety of fun indoor and outdoor activities. Of the slug variety, we'll partake of a few malt-based beverages and engage in mondo food episodes at the tailgate, and then watch the football game. On the more active side, we'll walk the most beautiful Orono campus, mountain bike some fine local trails, and play a round of golf.

I figure it'll just about balance out. And it will all add up to an enormous amount of fun. It always does.

What are your outdoor plans?

Boston.

In the opposite direction of the wild woods and waters, I know, but it's where I had to be last Friday for a series of business meetings.

But I tried to make the best of it. So when my last meeting ended early, I quickly calculated that I had enough time to scoot across town, poke through Hilton's Tent City for a few gear bargains, grab a slice and a beverage at Half Time Pizza, and still make the afternoon showing of the film Yellowstone at the IMAX Theater at the Museum of Science.

Hilton's, a great place for gear hounds.

Whew!

Well, I did all that and bellied up to the ticket window with plenty of time to spare.

But things went all to hell from there.

"One ticket for Yellowstone, please," I said to the young woman behind the counter.

"Will that be a senior ticket, sir?"

Big sigh.

My heart sunk. My shoulders slumped.

But then my blood started to boil.

Where's my denture cream? My walker? My tour bus? Dammit.

For chrissake I'm years from retirement. I hike, ski, bike, kayak, all that stuff. I'm no old fart.

But I just smiled politely at the girl and said, "No thanks. A regular ticket will do."

A bit of a horrified look came across her face.

"I'm so sorry sir."

Me too, I think.

I ponied up my $9 for the full-price ticket, smiled again, and walked off.

Sitting on the bench in front of the theater, a group of four seniors--real seniors--toddled over and sat down. The woman next to me had her ticket out in her hand. So I discreetly craned my neck over to look at her ticket.

SENIOR. $3.

Dammit.

The film was good, not the best IMAX film I'd seen, but good. Beautiful scenes of the volcanic landscape of Yellowstone complete with bison, elk, moose and all the expected wilderness stuff.

But I couldn't quite get into it all the way.

I had this gnawing dilemma playing around in my head: Go Grecian, or start scamming the discounted benefits of early retirement?

Hmmm... what to do, what to do???

That's me with my full-price ticket for the film Yellowstone at the Omni Theater. Dammit.

If you haven't yet visited a corn maze for a few hours of side-splitting fun and adventure, well, you're missing out.

But don't be misled, corn mazes aren't just for children. While there's no doubt that the kids love them and have a wonderful time, corn mazes are also a fine way to entertain adults chronically suffering from arrested development.

This would of course include myself and most (all?) of my friends.

For several years running, after our annual mountain biking trip to the magificent single-track trails of Kingdom Trails in East Burke, Vermont, we would wrap up our weekend with a trip to a corn maze a few miles south on our way home.

And there, for several hours, we would pathetically (and hysterically) attempt to navigate our way past the waypoints to the bell at the other end of the maze.

The laughter and cameraderie and sheer silliness of it all made for a fine way to conclude what was always a fun outdoor weekend together.

So, find a local corn maze, grab the kids, grab your goofy friends and take a stab at navigating through the corn stalks.

You'll love it!

A father and son duo from Farmington have spent the past few years eschewing trails and taking the less traveled routes to the mountains in their area: they bushwhack.

Now, if you've never bushwhacked, well, you've been missing out on some good fun. As well as plenty of scratches and bruises as you tumble up and down mountains trying desperately to follow a compass line and figure out just where you are on your topo map.

But, as these two have discovered, the rewards are huge and satisfying. You're very likely to enjoy plenty of solitude, visit places in the woods where no one else has been, at least for a long while; find interesting, long lost artifacts; and hone your route finding skills to razor-edge sharpness.

Years back when I worked as a forester for the Maine Forest Service, I spent an entire summer working to complete a statewide inventory of the Maine's forestlands. My crew (there were 8 crews statewide as I recall) was assigned 100 plots--each marked by 8-inch wooden dowels in the forest floor--that had been set there a few years prior, laid out randomly over hundreds of square miles. Our job was to find and remeasure the trees and the growth on them. All this data would then be crunched in a computer program which would spit out a statistical approximation of the state's timber resources.

It was one of the best summers of my life.

Armed with maps and compasses and occasionally an aerial photograph, and a god measure of youthful enthusiasm, my crew crashed through more brush and blowdowns and beaver swamps, through rain and bugs and mud, to find 96 out of our assigned 100 plots.

And from that experience I learned important woods navigations skills that I've never forgotten, skills that have come in pretty handy, confidently getting me out of a few tight spots in the wilderness on multiple occasions.

Hey, who needs those stinkin' trails anyway when you can just bushwhack up the side of the mountain? Just kidding of course.

Kudos to the pair from Farmington for their trailblazing efforts. It sounds like a load of good fun. And I hope we'll hear more about their experiences.

So, you wild and crazy hikers out there... do you bushwhack? Where? What navigation gear do you use?

...and my first one back in Maine in a month and a half.

So, what to do?

It'll be a semi-outdoors, semi-sports weekend it looks like.

An afternoon of golf with my buddy Pete tomorrow. Then indoors to the tube and the Yanks-Sox game. Sunday morning a mountain bike ride, then plunked down to watch the Giants.

A good mix of fun and activity. No stress.

What are your plans for what looks like an awesome weather weekend and the start of October?

Sad as it is that the man is homeless, you have to admire the resourcefulness of Randy Reed, who built himself quite a cozy campsite along the banks of the Kennebec River in downtown Augusta.

Officials removed Reed from the site yesterday, and will likely disassemble his riverside shelter, which has apparently caused a bit of damage to the surrounding area.

Thankfully, Reed was not arrested, but rather taken to a hospital to be checked out.

Winter's not far off, so this was probably a good move.

Maybe with the help of the good people of Augusta, you can find a real home and a better life soon, Randy.

Sign on the wall in Pappy and Harriet's Roadhouse in Pioneertown, CA:

There is no place like this place anywhere near this place, so this must be the place.

I swear, this Maine-ah shoulda been a cowboy...

I see that the Portland City Council has voted to ban smoking on walking trails throughout the city.

Way to go.

Listen, I'm not a big fan of smoking. In fact, I changed my tune on smoker's rights when the ban on smoking in bars and restaurants went into effect awhile back.

I like having a brew in a smoke-free place.

But that's inside.

Outside? On open-air trails?

Nice idea, but I really think you council folks have too much time on your hands.

Another ordinance that feels good, but can't be enforced. A bit silly, in my view.

Why not just ban the evil smoking all together?

Never gonna happen.

Making smoking illegal would dry up the wealth of tobacco money that has come pouring in to government coffers, redistributed if you will, from Bad Tobacco.

The beer industry is next. I'm telling you. And then I'm going to get really p----d.

You know, I've got a pair of running shoes that emit a loud and rather obnoxious squeak when I wear them into Hannafords when I grocery shop. The shrill noise has just got to be bad for people's hearing.

Will the city council label me a public health hazard and and ban my New Balance 903s from the grocery store?

Trail Head is officially one year old!

Woo-hoo!

Many thanks to everyone who has followed along and added their two cents.

And special thanks to my friends at MaineToday.com for all your support.

On to another year of adventures big and small...

I didn't, to use a fine Maine expression, do Jack Squat this weekend.

Nothing approaching anything useful that is.

Unless you consider occasionally trundling back and forth from my brother's pool to the fridge in the garage for a cold one and a slice of lime.

Yep, that's about it. I admit it.

A slug.

But that's okay.

Say what you will, the occasional weekend off from strenuous physical activity is a good thing.

I did, however, manage to knock off two good books.

So my body may have soaked in the 90F water to a prune-like character, but at least my brain didn't atrophy. Or at least I balanced out what brain cells the beer killed off...

What did you do over the weekend?

On my way home from a great weekend of kayaking on the Androscoggin River in N.H. yesterday afternoon, I stopped in at Pat's Pizza in Bethel for some sustenance.

While enjoying a cold one and waiting for my pizza I thumbed through a copy of The Bear Facts of Maine, a weekly paper of news, events and tidbits of a local flavor concerning Western Maine.

With nothing else pressing at the moment, I was riveted by accounts of the winners of the Duck Race at the Moxie Festival and the West Paris Soap Box Derby, a brief history of hot dogs and new ice cream serving suggestions, the upcoming Andover Old Home Days and Wilton Blueberry festivals, and a long list of other current area events.

But what really caught my eye was an advertisement for the M-275 MULE 1/2 Ton Weapons Carrier.

Hmmm.

Now there's something you don't see around every day.

Says here "used extensively in Vietnam, though seldom seen (I wonder why?), the Mule was designed for Army and Marine use in forward areas... At $6,000 for the refurbished M-275, the huge cargo platform and weight carrying capacities make this a great vehicle for any kind of outdoor activity."

My chow arrived and as I ate, I stared at the picture of the M-275.

Yessah, I need me one of them things for sure.

I drove away in my Honda Civic feeling a bit inadequate, but with dreamy thoughts of a burly M-275...

Oh yeah.

I'm sure most of you have seen "the rock" along side of Route 157 between Millinocket and Baxter State Park.

Even though I've been by it hundreds of times over the years, I still can't resist wanting to stop and take another photo of it.

I guess it has always been a signal that, yes, you're really here again. In the big north woods of Maine. And mighty Katahdin is just around the bend.

Slow down. Relax. Unwind. Breathe in.

You're here again. Home.

It's no wonder at all sometimes why many of us want to escape to the woods so often, is it?

My heart goes out to the British people on this sad day.

It may be just after noon here in Maine, but as Jimmy Buffett and Alan Jackson say...

"It's five o'clock somewhere!"

Yep. Time to start the weekend soon. Get outside. Have some fun.

Looks like a good chance of rain tomorrow, but a nicer day on Sunday.

Works for me. Got to help move a friend tomorrow, but I'll get a good hike in the next day.

What are you doing?

Hope you all have a fun and safe Fourth of July holiday! Family, friends, food, playing in the Maine outdoors... you know the drill. Enjoy!

"Everyone needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in... where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul." --John Muir

I found these words on an interpretive sign on the path to the Acadia National Park visitor center in Hull's Cove. Muir’s words surely ring true here, as Mount Desert Island and Acadia has to be one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

My day job took me up to Bar Harbor recently for some transportation-related business. I knew I wouldn't have a lot of spare time to do much in the way of hiking, but I wasn’t about to pass up the chance to spend some time here. Besides, I like a good road trip!

I'm not sure why, but it's been several years since my last visit to the island—a most excellent autumn weekend of hiking and carousing. So when I came around the bend in Route 3 at the Trenton Airport, my heart skipped a beat at the view. Before me across the skyline were all of Acadia’s major mountains. I know them by heart: Champlain, Huguenot Head, Dorr, Cadillac, Pemetic, Sargent and Penobscot, Norumbega. Across Somes Sound, Acadia and St. Sauvieur, Beech Mountain, Mansell and Bernard. And even though I've hiked most every one of the trails on them over the years, I will never, ever, tire of this place.

Sandwiched around my business duties, I was able to check out a few of my favorite island haunts. I took an early morning stroll around the nearly deserted streets and waterfront of Bar Harbor (soon to be maxed out with summer visitors).

A quiet June morning in Bar Harbor, before the summer crowds.

I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at Jordan’s Restaurant (blueberry pancakes, of course). Resisted the overwhelming urge to spend gobs of money in Cadillac Mountain Sports (I bought only a small tube of bug dope). And poked around in the best little bookstore in the world, Sherman’s, where I came away with a hardcover copy of Left For Dead by Beck Weathers for a cool $3.99.

In the afternoon, I drove out of town and stopped at the trailhead at The Tarn. The Dorr Mountain Trail—one of my favorite hikes—leaves from here and climbs up to the summit of Dorr with magnificent views. I like to make a loop out of it by dropping down the other side and heading south on the pretty Gorge Path beneath Cadillac Mountain, and circling back around to the start. It’s a wonderful walk! Next trip, I hope.

Dorr Mountain rises above The Tarn, Acadia NP.

I continued on to the Park Loop Road, and made my way through Seal Harbor, past the Jordan Pond House, Jordan Pond and the Bubbles. Slowly. Tourist-like. Beautiful!

Cruising the beautiful Park Loop Rd.

Jordan Pond and The Bubbles, Acadia NP.

Finally, sated with natural beauty and semi-satisfied, I headed for home. But not before the tractor beam of the Trenton Bridge Lobster Pound drew me in for my first lobster of the summer.

The official start to my summer!

Life is good…

Hmmm.

Last week my digital camera dies for no good reason.

Two days ago I drive over my fiberglas kayak paddle and crush it.

Last night I discover that 170 precious photos from my tour of the AMCs Katahdin Iron Works property have mysterously disppeared from my laptop.

This is getting a bit unnerving.

A friend remarked that it could all be because of the snowboard I picked out of the trash several weeks ago.

Have I been cursed?

Is somebody trying to tell me that I wasn't meant to be a shredder?

Should I just toss the thing in a dumpster and forget I ever even considered snowboarding?

Will that end the hex?

Help me, please!

Do-do, do-do, do-do...

Bitten, swollen and tick-infested (I pulled three of the disgusting little buggers off), I couldn't face another day on the trail with the heat and the bugs. Saturday's hike was enough.

So Sunday I elected for a different plan. That rarest of rare occurrences: A planless day.

I slept in. Late. Made two pots of coffee and drank it all. Leisurely like. I took a lazy walk in the woods behind my house. Then hopped on my newly refurbished 12-speed Bianchi (thanks Craig!) and rode through the neighborhood streets for awhile.

And just when I thought I'd exhausted myself with all this heavy duty activity, I went downtown for a cruise through the Old Port Festival.

After some great music of a wide variety, a full compliment of unhealthy foods in my belly, and a cold beer later, I was wiped.

A day off from the trail sure can be tough...

I promised myself I wouldn't take up any more outdoor pursuits for awhile. Really, I did. For a number of good reasons.

I don't have the time to do all the outdoor sports I want to and use all the gear that I own as it is. I surely don't have the space in my little abode for any more toys. I'm spread out to every corner of every room right now (and to the barn of some friends). And I don't have the money to burn for more stuff. Well, I do actually, but geez, I've got to draw the line somewhere.

So that's my story, and I thought I was sticking to it.

Until the City of Portland's Heavy Item Pick-up hit my neighborhood. Yep, piles of junk started to accumulate slowly at curbside over the weekend. Mostly just plain crap that was easily passed by. But then I saw it.

A snowboard.

I've resisted snowboarding for years now for the reasons stated above, but I digress...

I was a few yards off when I spied the board. But already the good guy and bad guy in my head were arguing.

"You don't need it, no matter how good the condition of it is."

"It looks good from here. And you know you want it."

I picked it up. Pretty good shape. About the right size. Purple color. And it already had a Sugarloaf sticker on it.

The bad guy never had a prayer. I took it.

My new snowboard now rests comfortably in another corner of my living room.

Of course, now I need snowboard boots, wrist guards, a helmet. And lessons.

What the hell. I'm in. Hey, the price was right anyway.

Apparently I wasn't the only one picking through trash lately either, eh Colleen?

It's Wednesday. Hump day. And I'm feeling a little goofy. So what's new, you say? I know...

So I thought I'd bring out "the hat" for a little mid-week, too-far-from-the- weekend levity.

There's nothing goofier than this hat. It has moose antlers and is adorned with all kinds of little outdoor things, like a compass, carabiners, canoe, lantern, compass, climbing rope and the like. It's quite unique!

It was all hand made by some special friends several years ago when I was still president of the Maine Outdoor Adventure Club. And it was presented to me in a most embarrassing way--right in the middle of the MOAC meeting. But we a good laugh about it and I loved them all for their thoughtfulness.

I had some friends over a few weeks ago to show some slides of my AT adventures. One thing led to another, as it always does with this particular crowd, and the next thing you know, they're taking the hat off the shelf and making me wear the silly thing once again. Maybe it was the beer. Hard to say. But we got another damn good laugh about it.

The "MOAC Grand Poo-Bah" hat

Some differences, like that between a gray birch tree and a white birch--and many other differences--will very likely never matter anymore. Just a thought.

Still the favorite food combo of this adventurer...

Saturday morning I dragged my sleepy butt out of bed early to take part in a beginner's bird walk at the Maine Audubon Society Gilsland Farm Center in Falmouth.

And I'm glad I did. I hadn't been out birding for sometime and was eager to go.

But before I could get out the door I had to rummage around in the gear room to find my bird book and binoculars, which I hadn't used since a most wonderful trip to Assateague Island in Maryland several years ago to watch the wild ponies and walk along the beaches and marshes with the shorebirds.

But I found my goods and made it to the walk on time.

Our trip leader, a naturalist named Judy, took a group of us on a wonderful two-hour walk through the fields and woods of the sanctuary, which was alive with the sound of birds. We stopped often to raise our binoculars and "ooh" and "ahh" at the sighting of the many beautiful birds we encountered.

Along the way, we got a few helpful tips on how to properly use our binoculars (sight your bird first, and without taking your eye off it, raise your binoculars up to your eyes and view. Voila!) And we got some interesting and useful tips on bird identification and the use of field guides.

Our bird checklist for the morning was pretty impressive I thought, and included the following (in layman's terms): barn swallow, tree swallow, tufted titmouse, goldfinch, chickadee, red-winged blackbird, osprey, downy woodpecker, song sparrow, white-throated sparrow, cardinal, ibis and cormorant. One bird I had never seen before was the blue-bearded vireo. And the big bonus of the walk: two big, beautiful bald eagles!

All in all, it was a fun and informative walk. I will no doubt join in more such programs and events and highly recommend them to anyone interested in birding.

What a beautiful, long weekend, wasn't it?!

I figure that any weekend where the downhill skis and the mountain bike and the golf clubs and the hiking boots and pack are in or on top of the car at the same time--and you get to use all of them--now that's a damn good weekend.

What did you do on this awesome weekend?

The sun is just up and the coffee is brewing. And I'm sitting at the table doing what I do mornings now--write. I know, I know, who are you and what have you done with...?

My kitchen presents an interesting picture from the vantage point of my chair. Several pairs of skis lean in the corner by the door. Boots and poles too. A duffle bag of gear from last weekend's ski trip has been rummaged through and half its contents are out on the floor. A milk crate of biking gear waits to get muddy. A pile of mountaineering books and guidebooks lay about the counter. Plane tickets, gear lists and travel notes are scattered about.

A snapshot of an adventurer's life.

The fridge, a visual nightmare, is covered with precious bits and pieces of postcards, memorabilia, and magnets from people and places from all over. One magnet in particular draws me in this morning. It was given to me by a special friend several years ago. We used to chuckle about it. But today, I'm not so sure.

"You are only young once, but you can stay immature indefinitely."
--Ogden Nash

It is the nature of all adventurers to continually seek out the next mountain, the next trail, the next river. To always look a step ahead. Restless, unsatisfied, waiting. For something. Something yet undefined.

But life changes. Sometimes slowly, inexorably. Sometimes suddenly and dramatically. And those changes stop the wild adventurer in place. Realization seeps in. Perspective surfaces. Priorities change.

The mountains and rivers will always be there. And I hope to always have to the drive and the health to pursue them doggedly and enjoy them.

But it's the things closer in that matter as well, if not more. The daily things. The people close to you, the relationships. The little things. The little things that matter big. Everything that fills the five days and nights from Monday through Friday between the adventurous weekends. That's what's truly important. Sometimes it takes a whack in the head to see it and figure it out.

Be present. Appreciate everything. Treasure those around you. Live today with abandon.

I was just fine until a few minutes ago, when I unexpectedly met up with my friend John at lunchtime. He's going up to Tuckerman's Ravine tomorrow "just to check it out."

Yeah, right.

Damn.

The summit cone, the bowl, the gullies, the chutes-- all are in prime ski condition right now. Even the Sherburne Ski Trail has snow all the way down to Pinkham Notch.

I want to go. Now.

I need a clone. One of me to go to Reggae Fest, the other one to go ski Tucks this weekend.

In fact, yes, I really DO need a clone. One Carey to go to work, the other Carey to go and play outdoors.

Now, let's see. If I scrape some skin off my left elbow here and put in a moistened petri dish and leave it in indirect sunlight for awhile, maybe, just maybe...

Scarey, isn't it?

Hold on now. Don't worry. I wasn't serious. Much as I'd enjoy venturing off right now, I'm not actually going anywhere. I'm staying right here close to home. Really!

So when you scroll down to my earlier entry today, please understand that my quest to join the Taramuhara was purely tongue-in-cheek, an April Fool's prank a few days early. The Taramuhara will have to carry on without me.

Besides, I wouldn't want to miss mud season here in Maine!

I need a vacation. Circumstances demand it. An extended get-away. Something more on the order of a pilgrimage.

So, after brief but exhaustive research, I have decided on a suitable destination. I am packing up at this very moment, assembling the necessary provisions, arranging for the required immunizations and finalizing travel plans. It will be quite an adventure.

But I regret to tell you all: It may be some time before I return. I cannot possibly tie up all the loose ends or say good bye to everyone before I depart. My heart is heavy, but I cannot be concerned about that right now. I trust you will understand. I must go, and there is little time to waste.

Why the urgency and where exactly am I off to?

I am a restless adventurer. A trained geographer and anthropologist. But for much for too long now I've felt as though I've been sitting idle, spinning in place, watching the world go by, when there is so much to see and do in the world.

No more.

Deep inside of me, at my very core, I feel an extraordinary pull to seek out new places and peoples, to explore a foreign land and immerse myself in a new culture. I must respond to these urges. And that is precisely why I am off to Mexico, in search of...

... The Sacred Corn Beer of the Tarahumara!

For as we speak, deep in the rugged Sierra Madre Mountains of Chihuahua, the Tarahumara Indians are gathering in the village of Norogochi in celebration to drink their tesguino, or corn beer. In fact "the entire of town of Norogachi turns into a giant brewpub" right about now.

For the Tarahumara "beer is an elixir for healing, a barter item and a divine beverage," says Guadalupe Espino Palma, the traditional governor of the Norogachi district. "We make offerings of tesguino to God himself, and He drinks it also."

Can't go wrong there.

These are my people! I must go and be one with them. And have one with them. Soon. Before all the tesquino is gone.

Until our paths cross again... Bosasa!

I always thought dashboard compasses were a pretty ridiculous idea. What in the world would you need to have one of those in your car for? Could your sense of direction be that bad... on the highway? That's what I thought anyway.

Until yesterday morning.

I was up in Norway (Maine, that is) on business (yes, I do have a day job). And when I was done I drove back out to Route 26, turned right and headed happily back to Portland.

Or so I thought.

I drove for a minute or so and suddenly realized that I didn't recognize a thing. Two lanes, double yellow line. But that's all.

This isn't right the direction, I thought, so I turned around.

Now, I've traveled up and down Route 26 more times than you can shake a stick at and thought I knew every mile, every building, every tree.

I drove the other way for a bit, but recognition still didn't come. And I started to get a weird feeling inside.

I found my way back into Norway--a significant accomplishment at this point--and pulled over for a moment. Sigh.

Ok, back out to a main road. This one looks like Route 26. So off I go.

Soon enough I came to a road sign that read "Route 26". NORTH.

I turned around. Again. And proceeded SOUTH, thoroughly embarrassed.

Maybe I will buy one of those dashboard compasses. A little one. I'll keep it hidden away in the cupholder, and put it up on the dash only when I really need it.

Like yesterday.

No one would have to know.

Well, here it is. Trail Head blog entry #100.

A small milestone in the grand scheme of things, maybe. But not to me.

Woo-hoo! I'm tickled, excited, giddy.

I'm so happy I'd do a back flip right here if I could. Of course, that would likely necessitate an immediate visit to my chiropractor. But I digress...

I'm having the time of my life right now doing two of the things I love most in life: Playing outdoors and blogging about it here in Trail Head. It's been a great opportunity and a lot of fun.

Nothing of any value is ever accomplished, however, without the hard work, support and encouragement of others around you. And that's where the good folks at MaineToday.com come in. I am very proud and fortunate to be associated with many of them on both a professional and personal level.

So I'd like to stop and say "thanks"!

Thanks to Editor Scott Hersey for spawning the idea of the Trail Head blog last summer as a place for ideas, thoughts, opinions and commentary on all things in the Maine outdoors. For having the confidence in me to actually fill in the blank spaces on a regular basis. And for the priviledge of being a little part of MaineToday.com. I hope to see you out there on your mountain bike again soon.

Thanks to Content Producer Colleen Stone who writes a terrific blog of her own, and from whom I have gleaned an enormous amount about blogging. For your great sense of humor, support, technical help with my oft non-technical brain, for not making snarky comments, for keeping me out of trouble.

Thanks to Senior Designer Wendy Clark, who designed the Trail Head site (yes, she's the one who stuck my head on the post!). Wendy has read nearly every word I've written in the last three years, and has been a wellspring of support and encouragement to me for this and many other projects. I couldn't have done it without you. There are no words, W, just heartfelt gratitude.

And, of course, huge thanks to the many kind readers (even you Beer Troll) for, well, reading and following along on this path since August. From crashing down through Magic Falls in a raft to beer as a survival tool; madly skiing the summit slopes of the Loaf to cups of cheap coffee, it's been a hoot. For your many ideas, suggestions, comments and e-mails. It's been nice getting to know you all. And I look forward to having a whole lot more fun and adventures in the outdoors together. Keep in touch.

Thanks again. I've got to get outside now. See you soon.

Like many of us around the state, I was stuck inside during Saturday's big snowstorm, unable to get to the ski area as planned. So I had to come up with an alternate plan to fill the time.

Housecleaning! That all-important, but loathsome task.

Now, for me, housecleaning mainly amounts to picking up and moving gear that has been scattered about from room to room, trip after trip, for weeks. Skis, snowshoes, boots, packs, fuel bottles, clothes, you name it. It's all part of the near constant spin cycle of packing and unpacking that characterizes this outdoor life.

In the middle of this flurry of activity I came across a pile of cards and letters and assorted memorabilia that had been living on my staircase for sometime. So I took a break and sat--cup of coffee in hand and snow falling heavily outside my window--and rummaged and reminisced.

I came to a birthday card from a good friend that had a picture of Mount Rainier on the front and the following anonymous inspirational quote:

"A wise man travels light on the road of life. Wisdom is his map, wonder his fuel, and a good story, his favorite souvenir."

I like that.

But then, I'm a real sucker for a good quote. And I have a notebook chock full of them to prove it. We all need inspiration from time to time, and sometimes the right words really help to do the trick.

I don't know the author of this one, but if you recognize it, let me know. And please, if you have some good quotes to share, please send them along. I can make more room in my notebook!

It's last Friday morning and I'm on my way to Baxter State Park with ten others for a weekend ski trip into the bunkhouse at Trout Brook Farm. It's a long haul up I-95, so we decide to take a quick break at Burger King in Orono before making the last stretch of highway to the park.

I'm standing there in line, a bit road-weary, when I have a personal Twilight Zone-like experience. The menu board reads 89 cents for a small cup of Joe. I don't think another thing of it. I step up, announce my order to the pleasant woman behind the counter, step back and wait. All systems normal, right?

She punches the keys of the register and walks off to pour my coffee. The register rings up 27 cents. Hmmm. That's odd. Coffee is 89 cents. What's the deal, I half-think in the under-caffeinated, groggy little world of my mind.

Returning with my coffee, she smiles and says, "27 cents" please. Confused but coming around a bit, I inquire quietly, "Uh, but isn't the coffee 89 cents?"

She smiles again, leans forward and says, "Oh, that's because I gave you the senior discount."

(do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do) {theme from Twilight Zone playing here...}

Stunned to silence (which never happens), I take my coffee and walk off, elbowing my way through the guffaws of my trip mates.

Not even close, I'm telling you. Not even close! C'mon, this adventurer is only is his 40s for chrissake. Must be the beard, say my oh-so-supportive friends.

Don't any of you say a word, not a single damn word. Leave it alone. No more AARP jokes. I'm warning you...

It never fails. Whether I've been away for a few hours, a weekend, a week, or longer. Somewhere after the Hampton, NH toll booth on I-95 I start to feel it.

I-95 NORTH
TO ALL MAINE POINTS

Yep. Just about then.

It's a transformation of sorts, for sure. From wherever I was, whatever I was doing to... Maine. I begin to feel more at ease, sit a little more comfortably in the seat, look around a bit more, let my mind wander.

Almost there. The Portsmouth Circle flies by. The highway curves to the left, then sweeps right again, rising to meet the Piscataqua River Bridge. A small sign announces "NOW ENTERING Maine".

Phase I of re-entry complete. But for me, there's more to it. Maybe it's a half mile further, maybe a mile. I look for it, wait for it. I'll be damned if I'm going to miss it.

Yes, there it is! The Sign.

Passing "The Sign" on the Maine Turnpike the other night.

I'm home... Vacationland. The Pine Tree State. The Way Life Should Be. Chickadees and lobsters. LL Bean. Portland Headlight. Acadia and Mount Katahdin. The North Maine Woods. Mountains, rivers, lakes, the ocean, trails...

Nothing makes my heart race so, makes me happier or more content.

I'm home.

Here's wishing all adventurers a safe, happy, healthy, properous and fun New Years 2005!

That's me getting an early jump on the holiday spirit while waiting for my bus at the Port Authority Terminal in New York City last week.

Adventure is everywhere...

The holidays are an adventure, for sure. There's always so much to do and not enough time... shopping, cooking, writing cards, decorating, travel plans, wrapping presents; friends, relatives, parties. It's a mad dash to the finish line some years it seems. But we get there--eventually. Whew!

Soon enough we'll get some precious time to relax with family and friends, enjoy a good meal, and be thankful for all that we have. It's a good life.

Whatever you do, wherever you go over the next few days, I hope you have a safe, happy and healthy holiday (and I hope you get some outdoors fun in too!). Merry Christmas!

Cabin fever overtook me again the other night. It might have been the conversation with a friend, which nevers fails to lead us to a place deep in the woods of northern Maine. It might have been that escapist gene inside of me that every now-and-again makes me want to chuck everything and disappear for awhile, a la Thoreau's Walden. Hell, maybe it was just the beer...

I'm not talking about the kind of cabin fever that makes you want to get outside, but rather inside--a cabin, that is. You see, I've always wanted to own a cabin the woods, but have never quite gotten there--yet. I dream of a special place to go to for a day, a weekend, a week. To relax, to reflect, to be alone (not all the time, of course), to live more simply-- no lights, no phone, no running water.

My friend Dick has such a cabin in the Maine woods. And although I've never managed to make a trip up there with him, I feel as though I've been there many times through his captivating stories. It sounds ideal. Yes, in my mind's eye I've seen the grand wilderness views from the doorstep, swam in the crystal clear lake, cut firewood in the spruce and fir woods out back, enjoyed a simple meal under the setting sun, sat close to blazing fire in the little wood stove with book in hand, and fallen asleep to the wailing of the loons...

Zzzzz, zzzzz... Uh, um, I'm sorry. Where was I? Oh yes, the cabin! Well, all this cabin talk prompted me to dig out one of my favorite books of all time: The Woods by Charles Seib. It's the true story of a man who buys a rural piece of property and builds his own cabin, from A to Z. I must have read it a hundred times over the years. And when I finally found it again, I read it once more, all 108 inspiring pages!

Here in the cabin the Franklin stove is blazing cheerily. I have shed the heavy wool shirt I needed before I lit the fire. The supper dishes are washed and soon it will be time for bed. I have spent this day as I spend many here now that the cabin is completed--reading, roaming over the land, dozing...

OK, time to start checking the real estate pages again!

Run, hike, pedal or paddle... do what you must, but please get outside tomorrow and exercise your right to VOTE!

Life is an adventure worth sharing... thanks! Happy Birthday W!

I made a determined attempt to get to the National Folk Festival in Bangor this past weekend. Yes, I did. Really. Having missed the festival the last two years I didn't want to miss out on all the planned fun and music before the event moved on to another location is the US (it changes venues every three years). Well, things don't always work out. And sometimes that's just fine.

Friday night I drove up to my friend Kathy's camp on spectacular Branch Pond in Ellsworth. College and Bangor-townie friends of mine have been gathering there for years. It's a sweet spot. Spent most of the evening laughing it up around the camp fire, although I did manage to to get in some moonlight paddling on the lake. I kayaked while Tim, my oldest friend in the world, and his dog Ringo paddled along in a canoe. The stars were brilliant and the lake like glass. Just as dawn was about to break the tired crew finally came ashore and hit the sack.

The plan for Saturday was to make a big breakfast and head for Bangor to make a full day of it at the folk fest. We made it through breakfast all right. We then loaded up Pete's van and headed out. But when we reached Route 1A, the heavily traveled main road between Bangor and Ellsworth/Bar Harbor, we knew we were in big trouble. It took ten minutes just to make a left turn north. And it was truly bumper-to-bumper traffic from there, all the way to Bangor. We quickly calculated that we would be much older and grayer and quite a bit more ornery by the time we ever got to Bangor. So Pete whipped the van around and drove us back to camp.

We were briefly disappointed but then quickly snapped into action to salvage the day. And what a day--blue skies and 80 degrees! Pete backed his van up to the edge of the lake, put the speakers out, and turned up the volume. If we couldn't get to the folk fest, why, we'd have it come to us right here (thanks to Maine Public Radio, of course). And there we stayed, relaxing in the sun, throwing back an adult beverage or two, swimming, reading, BBQing, making the occasional foray out on the lake in the kayak or canoe... and listening to some terrific music. We missed actually being there and listening to the shows live, but...

Sunday... ditto above. Bangor plans to continue the tradition with the American Folk Festival next year. I promise I'll get there. Really.

Just picked up the latest issue of Uncle Henry's. I suppose there's a good chance that I'm the last person in Maine to become an Uncle Henry's convert. Whatever. Some things just take me awhile I guess. Ayuh. I started buying it regularly only last spring when I was looking to buy land and a camp up north somewhere, but now I'm hopelessly hooked on it. I'm still looking for that land and camp, but I've also gotten wicked inquisitive and have branched out even more. Now I check for stuff under many of the other categories, like "Sporting Items." This week you can find anything there from a backpack to a fly rod to a large meat grinder to a six-point buck deer head mounted on oak base with successful arrow! Yessuh! By the way, on the cover of this week's issue of Uncle Henry's it says "CAUTION: Contents may cause rapid pulse, increased phone bill, impulse spending, unexpected excitement, sheer joy and huge savings!" Is that great or what?!