Trail Runner

I've been needing a personal physical goal for awhile. After completing the Appalachian Trail in 2012, it took me a year to not have incredibly vivid flashbacks pretty much all the time. So that was really a recovery year.

Lately I've been way less active than I've wanted to be; hiking on the occasional weekend, backpacking a few times a year, a very infrequent bike ride. Goal-less.

When Songbird asked if I wanted to join Crossfit, I said "No", I didn't feel like doing that. When she alluded to it in conversation I didn't respond, when she asked again more adamantly I began to introspect as to why I had no interest. I found that I didn't want to do it just for the 'health' of it. I would, however, want to do it had I a goal. I am very goal oriented.

Well, the last hike I did was nearly 25 miles - 16 miles the first day, the rest the following day. We'd started at 10am and finished by 4. We had 30+ pound packs. And WOW was I sore the few days afterward. Really muscle sore. But the thing is - I LIKE muscle soreness. Maybe not that sore though. I began thinking about that trail in particular. We could've done it in a day. Easy(-ish). Started earlier, carried less. If I could've easily (I say that sarcastically because it would've whipped my butt, more so I know I could've been able to to complete it - I would've had to dig deep though) done that trail in a day, could I go further? Could I go much further? Could I do the Four State Challenge VA to PA (43+ miles)? Could I do 50? Could I go all the way around the Massanutten Trail (71 miles)? Could I do the entirety of the AT in Shenandoah (105.3)? I might be able to - with training.

Karl Meltzer is 48, and a bad-ass. Anish is just an ultra-bad-ass.Jennifer Pharr-Davis. Scott Jurek. All recently have beaten the AT speed record. Now I'm not saying I'm going to try to attain that, or even any Long Distance hiking trail. I don't have the desire to do that for 48 days. But if they can do it for 48 days consecutively - I might be able to do it for a SINGLE day, right?!

A did a few marathon+ plus days while hiking the AT. My training ground was... every day before that. I can't train that way any longer, I've obligations, an awesome understanding wife that I like to see, a wonderful house that I like sleeping in, and great friends I get to see on the weekends and during the week. Doing Crossfit as part of the equation makes sense. I've got my goal now. I want to see how far I can go on foot, more importantly, on a trail.

To that end, I began today. I went for a 5.5 mile run according to the mapped mileage (5.9 mile run according to GPS, which is what I'll be posting). It felt GOOD. After I warmed up. I walked up the hills, and ran on the flats and downhill sections. I trip less and have a more surer gait when I'm going fast. I focus on the trail in front of me, get into a zone, and feel like I'm floating over the terrain - rocks roots and all.I've done bits like this before, but never in a premeditated way with a goal.

I'm going to begin posting here weekly with stats for the week, including when I start Crossfit with Songbird, and what other activities I'm doing. I'll be using this as a log for myself, as well as a convenient (and public!) place to track progress. Also, to tell others a goal is a way to keep focused and to keep training! I'll also use this as a place to rate the trails I'm training on, when I'm able to actually train on trails.

I ran from Route 7 to Raven Rocks. I actually really like this for this type of training. At close to 6 miles out and back it can be done fairly quickly. It also helps this is the closest nice trail to the house. It has a lot of roots and rocks, with some nice gentle grades, as well as some steeper sections. And the view at the mid-way point is great, with some nice rocks to lay down on and stretch out on, if need be (I needed it!). It took me about 3 miles to warm up, but on the way back from the view after the short rest, I felt awesome, really loose and limber. A wonderful fall day, with squirrels everywhere, deer, and a few backpackers that offered to be my support staff when I go to break the record (whoa there fellas, don't put that on me!!)

New Hampshire: Harsh, Beautiful, and Wild

As some of you might know, I'm getting married! In just over a year I will be wed to the love of my life. We are getting married in New Hampshire right by Franconia Notch. With rugged mountains as our backdrop, spring-blooming wildflowers in the fore. The planning and preparation gives us an excuse to go north and a)visit her parents b)get some planning/preparation in c)go hiking in the White Mountains!

This last trip I took the following week off to hike while Songbird had to, unfortunately, come home to go back to work. Flip also took the week off and came up to hike with me. Songbird, departed, and Flip arrived late the following day. We woke to a rainy Tuesday morning; undeterred and set on backpacking, we packed our things donned our rain gear and got a ride from Songbird's dad, Jim, to the trailhead. We were dropped off at the beginning of the Ammonoosuc Ravine Trail, a mile from the Cog Railroad at the base of Mount Washington. The rain had stopped, but the sky was steely grey and we knew this was only a break in the storm, not a passing of the storm. We were hopeful, though as the following days forecast sounded better.
We followed a soft rolling trail for the first couple miles, along a river and over wet roots and rocks. The forest smell of damp and leaf decay both pleasant and familiar. The trees dropped their wet tears down our backs as we hiked full of care-free joy towards the base of the mountain. The streams and rivers did not seem overly swollen from the last day and a half of rain, I wasn't sure if we had any water crossings, but was thankful all the same that they weren't in flood stage! The trail traced close to the banks of the river at some points.

 Soon, through a break in the trees, we saw where our path was to take us. The easy jaunt through the lowlands about to end. We began climbing stone stairs, and the rain started to fall softly again. I put on the hood of the Packa, but stayed unzipped to keep heat exhaustion at bay. As we ascend and the air got colder the coat came on and I stayed both dry and warm.

As we neared tree-line the conditions worsened, the rain picked up, and we had to cross the river a time or two. The river crossings were harrowing, and would have forced us to turn back had there been more water. On top of slick rocks a few yards from a waterfall that fell down the side of the tallest mountain in the northeast, the trail precariously crossed these slightly swollen waters. This could be deadly in worse conditions.
Up we climbed and clambered. The trail crossing steep slick rocks, the trees becoming stunted and gnarled. We were in the rain clouds now. The wind picked up and started to swirl, sometimes those raindrops sounded a bit... heavy, more like ice than water. The clouds blew back and snow fields were visible as the trees finally gave up.

Up and up more. The wind picking up, the rain blowing in, over, under. My glasses making everything a blur, and the clouds obscuring everything beyond a couple hundred feet anyway. But, even in these conditions and under this strain, beauty stood out. Tiny alpine flowers, surrounded by a carpet of green moss hung on and thrived. The disparity of the wind-swept landscape to the micro-communities that stood hidden in plain sight belied the strength of life, and the beauty in the small things.

Not knowing how much further to the top of this hill, we continued to strain upwards. And there! A roof line! A shelter from the storm, a place to shed wet raincoats, if only briefly: Lake of the Clouds AMC Hut. We stumbled around the corner, threw open the door and came in to applause of the guests riding out the storm inside the warm comfort. The Croo hostess said, "Are you checking in? We have spots available." My gut instinct after being mauled by the elements while pulling myself hand-over-hand up the side of a steep mountain was to say, "Why yes I am checking in. I would love nothing more than to pay $125 to sleep on a wooden bunk!" Instead, after making eye-contact with Flip, I said, "Give me a minute to decide." So we ordered a bowl of warm soup, sat at the table and unwound. We dripped a bit dryer and the memories and shock of the vicious wind and pelting rain faded. After consulting the map, our watches, and each other, we decided to push on. We also decided to save the summit of Washington for another day, this wouldn't be a good one to be up there.

I will not rant about the AMC. I can say that the oasis of calm and brief respite was welcomed. The prices were high, but the people were kind. We chose not to pay for the luxury, but the fact that the Huts exist enable those that would not otherwise be able to see the grandeur and beauty of the White Mountains to experience it in slight comfort.

We put back on our packs and braced ourselves for another onslaught. We were surprised and hesitantly elated that the rain had died down. We headed south on the Appalachian Trail towards Nauman Campsite ~4 miles distant. The wind blew fiercely and then calmed. The clouds seemed to be thinning, only over us though. Suddenly: SUN! BLUESKY! What a treat. We were able to walk on this ridge top, this spine-of-the-world, with a circle of clouds obscuring the far views, but allowing us some sun light and some views of the mountains we trod upon. We even captured a glimpse of the Washington Hotel surrounded by its golf course down in the valley below.

We started descending into the woods again, back into the damp. Was it raining again or was that just dripping from the trees? Maybe a bit of both. On our descent we spotted a lynx flash across the trail and then we peered at each other before she gracefully disappeared into the thick sub-alpine woods. We arrived at the next Hut and the hostess ignored us as we walked in, continuing to cut up pieces of paper with her Swiss Army knife. There must not have been any room or other reservations coming in that evening so the pleasantries could be dispensed with. I enquired if this is where we checked in for the adjacent campsite. No, there is a specific campsite host in a tent. We walked over to the campsite and spoke with Dillon, the campsite host. He said he'd never stayed in a Hut, but they were real nice, they even let him come over the night before and hangout since they only had two guests. So the AMC hires a completely different host that must sleep in a tent, literally 50 feet from the Hut. That makes such little sense that I am boggled. We asked if it might be alright if we went up there to prepare our dinner out of the rain instead of inside our tent. He had no idea, he didn't really talk to them, but it might be worth asking. They did have a lot of guests though. Rather than being looked down upon like the homeless tent campers begging for scraps we prepared our meal at the tent.

The next day dawned not bright but rainy. It had began raining in earnest over night and continued unrelenting as we broke camp as quickly as possible, trying to keep as much of our gear as dry as possible. We hiked out into the rainy morning with hopes it would stop any second now. The forecast said, "Chance of Showers" this day and "Chance of Showers" for the following 2 days. There was no chance, it rained continuously. At times it slowed, but then picked up. The bogs seemed to mirror our wet mood.

 Crossing over Webster Cliffs and bookended mountains we were blown about. As we descended Webster we got quiet. Thirty minutes of inner thoughts, just struggling not to fall down the rain-soaked rocks and slabs we both said what we were thinking, "Why are we doing this?". We are seeing no views, we are not enjoying any of this, we are endangering our bodies unnecessarily. We both knew if we continued on to the next Hut and began setting up a wet saturated tent and peeling off wet socks and shaking out wet rain coats, that we would not be able to resist the Sirens call. We would pay the $125, or $500 if they asked it of us, to stay in the Hut. The forecast for the following day was the same as this day, so would we wake to more pattering rain? Another all day slog through puddles and down wet rocks.

We each fell on several occasions. I wasn't hiking the AT anymore. I wasn't doing this to prove something. I was doing this for enjoyment. And my saturation level surpassed my enjoyment! We decided we would go back to Lovetts Inn, we would dry off and we would day hike the following day, rain or shine. Having a dry place to go to makes all the difference in the world. When I hiked the AT and there were days like that, I often found a way to be in a dry room. A wet miserable day drove me to Great Barrington to pay $250 for a bad room.
We finished our tumbles down Webster Cliffs (there might be nice views, but I can't tell you that for a fact!) and came to Crawford Notch. I had no cell service, which I knew was going to happen from previous research in the area. It had been raining too hard up top to get the phone out or take the pack off. I knew there was a shuttle service, and hoped there would be one coming soon. Otherwise a 4 mile walk up the road to the Highlands Lodge was in store for us. But I was completely prepared for that, It's happened before! The shuttle schedule had a shuttle visiting this spot twice daily. One of those times in 30 minutes! How fortunate. Of course, in typical AMC fashion, those four miles was going to cost us $10 each! But we paid. And we got to the Taj of Huts. More like one of the resort areas in the Shenandoah. Outside people played bocce ball in the rain, knowing a warm shower was only a few feet away. We used the 4G service to call Jim and he drove the 20 minutes over to pick the up the drowned hikers.
That night we celebrated! Alive and warm! A semi-successful hike. Under the circumstance we made the right call. The Whites will wait. The day will come that they will be enjoyed, not slogged through.
The following day we decided to hike the crown jewel of the White Mountains: Mount Lafayette and Franconia Ridge. The day began sunny and nearly cloud-free. What?! Same exact forecast as the preceding day. If I've learned anything it is to completely ignore the forecast for this region of the world, because it's wrong. This valley might have a totally different weather than that one. We packed up our gear and drove over to the bottom of the Old Carriage Trail, we made the steep climb up Lafayette, rock scrambling up steps and rock faces. Our light day packs enabling us to bound up the mountain, light on our feet and energetic. Views became apparent behind us and we could see for miles. What a difference a day makes. Clouds rolled in but stayed far aloft, leaving our views unscathed. In a short amount of time we came upon Greenleaf Hut. A very nicely situated hut nestled on the shoulder below the treeline of Lafayette by a mountain tarn.

We ate lunch here and let our sweaty backs dry before gaining more elevation and a lower temperature. The last mile was a few thousand steps, above treeline, the views are amazing, the hard granite wall rising above to envelope the sky in front. We reached the summit and had panoramic views all around us. A valley that looks untouched by the influence of man, the road in the Notch a thread hardly visible. Franconia Ridge looked like a shark fin breaching the waters of a green ocean, our path evident down the ridgeline. This bit of trail is on many of the best hikes lists, and again and again showcased in Backpacker Magazine. I agree with this. This was an amazing hike. Views draw your eyes up and outward from yourself. Consciousness expands with the views. There are other places like this on the AT, but the others aren't so accessible. Saddleback Range in Maine is as good, if not better. Katahdin is similar as well as Avery Peak also in Maine. Big Hump and Little Hump in Tennessee is incredible, but in a different way.

We traversed the Ridge and began down the Falling Waters Trail. Uneventful and easy descent over rocks and down stairs lead to an unexpected series of waterfalls. Of course, with a name like "Falling Waters" I assumed there would be waterfalls, but I wasn't expecting as nice or spectacular of falls. We crossed and recrossed the river multiple times, avoiding wet feet - barely! A very spectacular ending to an awesome 7 mile hike. After the falls the trail leveled out and we quickly made our way back to the car.

Songbird called and told me she had to hide from a tornado while at work. She came home to the majority of the big old maple in the backyard no longer standing. The house was not damaged fortunately, but the trees were a mess. I made the call that I needed to come home and clean this mess up before heading back to work, so we had to leave a day early from the New Hampshire adventure. We've a score to settle NH, I'm GOING to enjoy every bit of trails you've got to offer!!

Kaya is impressed, as am I!!

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Light weight backpacking

I'm not sure when it happened. I'm sure over the course of last years Appalachian Trail thru hike I certainly enjoyed a light pack. I remember hiking from Tinker Cliffs to Daleville with 1/2 a days food, with a wonderfully empty my pack!

That pack looks small, but that's the 58L, I soon got a 44L and still had room in it.

Since getting back I've only been backpacking once - a fact which I plan on remedying - and on that trip to Massanutten I took the top flap off the Osprey Talon 44 and still had room.
Over the course of the last few months I've made a few low cost purchases to reduce weight. I refuse to pay $100's per ounce to lighten my pack by grams. I refuse to count grams. I don't have that kind of disposable income for one thing, and even if I did I would rather buy plane tickets with that money! That being said, you can later call me a gram weanie for the few ounces I am saving!

Black Diamond tarp shelter prior to hammock hanging. After it looks similar, but for the hammock under it!

I replaced my carabiners for a lighter pair. The other ones that came with my old hammock are heavy. They clunked and weighed the whole setup down. I don't have a postal scale, but I probably saved 8 oz or something to the new climbing 'beaners I purchased. I used part of a gift card I got for Christmas so the net cost of this purchase was $0!

My hair weighed too much and wasn't dual use so I cut it off

Next I purchased a Therm-a-Rest Alpine Down Blanket. It's basically a down blanket with a foot box completely eliminating the zipper, bottom of the 'sleeping bag'. My winter bag (the Grouse Mountain) doesn't have stuffing on the bottom to eliminate weight, this goes a step further and totally eliminate the zipper, hood, bottom of the bag. It is rated for 35 degrees but the reviews say more like 45 degree. I figure since drafts can happen and you aren't building the encapsulated layer of body heat it is more a spring/summer/fall bag. But it is only just over a pound - a full TWO pounds lighter, and much less bulkier than the Grouse Mountain. I used the remaining gift card and my dividends and bought the Alpine Down Blanket for $40 with an in-store pickup so I incur no shipping charges. Not a bad cost to reduce my bag by 2 pounds!

Going through the 'Lemon Squeezer' with my pack on - a testament to how small it got!

I weighed my gear as I was packing for this upcoming weekend hiking in southern Massanutten and my base weight is 11 pounds 12 ounces. Add 2 liters of water and a couple days of food and it'll still be under 20 lbs. That's impressive. And I don't feel like I am doing with out. I don't feel like I'm skimping or cutting corners. I have all the essentials, plus a pillow, first aid, camera, extra battery. I don't know when exactly it happened but I'm bordering on UL.

Descending Big K with day packs, not carrying all that jazz up a hill and back down!

For the trip coming up I could plan on going without a stove as well, try out the "cold" method. I would leave home the aluminum cup, MSR Pocket Rocket, fuel, and cooking utensil. This would save another pound and a half or two. I plan on having a campfire, over which I could easily roast some summer sausage. My biggest regret with this would not be having coffee in the morning or Sleepy Time Tea in the evening. For a weekend of roughing it I suppose I could forgo these small pleasures, but on any kind of thru the pleasure of something warm out-weighs (pun intended!) the extra weight.

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I've been everywhere, man

The number of places visited doesn't give one self-worth.                                                              What is done at those places, however, could.

I have traveled a large bit of the country in the past week and a half. I put one thousand miles on the first rental car. I slept in all of the continental United States time zones in five nights. I hiked in soft falling snow, looked out across the remnants of an in-land sea, felt the dry breath of a red desert, looked down upon a city of lights hopes and sorrows, and stayed in the same city in two states. It’s been an eventful couple weeks, to be sure, but not at home and not with my love. The good and the bad of traveling for work – I’m getting to see the country and do things far from home, but I’m doing it for a company first and foremost and fitting in bits and pieces of things I enjoy around that.

Act One

SLC (punk)

A coworker and I arrived in Utah separately. I had a few hours to while away after his flight was delayed due to a cardiac arrest of a passenger on the flight (ekk!). I got the rental car and drove down to the Great Salt Lake. I took a walk across the lake-bed to reach the water’s edge. The wind swept cold across the landscape, reminding me that spring hadn't taken hold yet. I watched the sun sink over the horizon, illuminating the far mountains. Finally, silhouetted by the suns corona, the mountain peaks gave way to darkness. I drove back, feeling hope and contentment.

We worked efficiently over the next few days, when we got the chance we enjoyed the area. We drove around Pineview Reservoir on a long lunch, up through a canyon, the mountains above us still wearing white. The high valley wreathed in white capped mountains was a world apart from the city just below. After work one day we went out to Antelope Island State Park, which not many Utah natives have visited when we conducted an informal poll. The park was gorgeous, denuded of trees, and where bison roam. I traversed 1000 feet up a knob to get a wonderful panoramic view of much of the island. The island is large, large enough to contain on its ridged back a spiny line of mountains with snow at their tops. Far in the distance of my knob-top view I could see herds of bison, a squall of rain way out over the lake, and clumps of trees huddling around a spring like winter hikers around a campfire.

A herd of Bison in the distance

My cameras zoom isn't that good

Mike and I climbed a trail to Waterfall Canyon, where in the deep winter ice-climbers climb. We got views down into Ogden and got close to the feet of the looming hulks of rock that make the so impenetrable wall and backdrop of the city.

After we had wrapped up work we stayed with Mike’s brother that happens to live in the area. One night we stayed in Sandy, the next in St George. On our way to Sandy we took the western route and stopped in Park City. The town that is a ski resort. Very posh, as one would expect from a ski resort. Later in Sandy we took a drive up Little Cottonwood Canyon to Snowbird and Alta. The change that comes with elevation has never been more dramatic. Spring owned the valley and deep deep snow as we got close to 10,000 feet. The mountains crowded over us and transported us to a much more northern clime.

Mike went with his brother the next morning to drop his niece off at the airport. Given a couple hours I went for a hike! I arrived at a trail head as the flurries flew. As I quickly ascended up the foothills the snow fell and the noises of the city faded to a memory. Less than a mile from the trailhead and I could no longer hear the hum and hiss of traffic. A small lake lay nestled in the snow caked hills, a few itinerant ducks my only company. I did a loop of the lake and headed back down, my tracks already gone as I descended.

We jumped in the car and headed south.

Act Two

Desert or Dessert?

As we drove south the snow fell heavily, not wanting us to make our escape. But the south won out, and the line of dark clouds stewed in the rear view. The sun and a chill breeze broke out over the line of mountains we followed on either side. This is BIG country in southern Utah. Big, lonesome forgotten mountains. I stared out the window at the miles of hills, fronted by the miles of pasture land backed up to them, I pondered when the last person traveled up those valleys, when someone had last strode over those peaks.

After some hours of driving we stopped at the western part of Zion National Park and visited Kolob Canyon and the little used lookout there. There wasn't much here, but a good start to a long hike – unfortunately not a long hike I would be taking. I was here for the topical views, as time was of the essence. We took our pictures and inhaled the dazzling views, but too quickly headed back to the car. We headed around to Zion “proper”, through Springdale, and familiar memories (and my first blog entry). Mike and I stopped at Weeping Rock and stood beneath the dropping drips, seeing what water and time can do. I stared up at Angels Landing, remembering what it was like to look down from Angels Landing. But not this time, sunlight grew short and people had to be met.

From St George we drove very briefly through Colorado and into Nevada. From there we headed east to the Valley of Fire. We didn't have cash and only did the short hike to Elephant Rock on the edge of the fantastical red rocks sprouting through the desolate desert. We headed into Lake Mead NRA and went to the lake shore. The amount of parking this place has and the size of the boat ramp it must be a different scene when the weather is warm! We had the place almost to ourselves, excepting some brave fisher-people that didn't mind the 50 degree temps.

The land got almost monotonous as we continued towards Hoover Dam. Mile after mile of desolate land, surrounded by turtle fences, and large barren mountains. I wondered how anything could survive this harshness. At the southern end the road came close to the edge of the National Recreation Area and like a blight or an oasis (depending on your point of view) condos and green grass sprouted from the desolate land. The water that must be sprinkled to support the lush grasses surrounding the expanse of wealth must be disturbing. We neared Hoover Dam, and soon found our way past a casino and to the Dam area. The tourist flocked , in their Uggs and heels. Up stairs and ramps, cutting the other off for a good parking spot and acting generally impatient with others. Back into civilization. Back into the trap for tourists. I dutifully snapped my tourists lens and marveled at the greatness of man, better than a beaver (again depending on your point of view). We went to the gift shop and saw the stuff that people love to be owned by. The history intrigued me, but the destruction and rampant change to the environment to enable this "magnificent" testament to humanity made me wonder. This country is large enough to support it's current population without having to live in these desolate places, without having to bend the earth to our wishes while disrupting these fragile far away places.

On to Sin City. A city I've visited multiple times, and will again visit. It's mostly a hate relationship. It's a convenient place to land to go exploring the area. The city itself is depressing and at times desperate feeling. It is also a big city. From the top of the Stratosphere the views after dark were horizon to horizon human habitation. The entire town was booked, I had looked and called around to many places and everything was full. This town with 62,000 hotel rooms just on the Strip was fully booked. I was beginning to worry we would need to sleep in the airport. I went on Hotels.com and found a room at the Stratosphere for more than I would have liked, but Mike and I split the room the make the price as reasonable as possible.

It wasn't a late night or a Vegas night. It was a stay in a city to catch a flight the next morning. We went to the top of the tower and watched the sun go down, watched the lights come up, and drank a few over-priced brews. We walked around the casino a couple time until the beers were empty and the bed called my name. With a 6am wake-up call I wasn't interested in partying. No gambling, no debauchery, no hangover either!

Act Three

We're not in Kansas anymore! Oh, actually, yes, yes we are.

Our flight landed in Kansas City at 4pm and the cold wind cut like a knife outside the terminal. The news was saying, "Kansas City Slammed!". Not really. The roads were clear and the snow was no longer falling. After being in the west at 29 degrees and feeling not bad outside, the 34 degrees with the moist air wormed into the bones, and we hurried from car to hotel. Kansas City, KS rolls up it's sidewalks at night but we found a local Mexican joint that was out of this world!

At work the next day people from the Missouri side stated they hadn't been to KS in a long time. A mile and a half away and they had the attitude that there were flesh-eaters there, "We don't go there no more!" It was an evidently depressed economy on the KS side but I never felt threatened. Of course on the MO side we found a outside stage (were it summer it would've been rocking) and a Gordon Biersch.

After work was done I had a few hours to evaporate before the jet ride home (yay!!!!). I found a park north of Kansas City, Weston Bend State Park. The overlook viewed the Missouri River and some cornfields, the comforting sounds of an active rail system churning up from below. When in a flat state, any elevation warrants an overlook, I guess! I did a nice little 3 mile hike in the melty snow, only falling in a mud puddle a couple times (slick as goose poo that mud). Apparently birding is very prevalent here, signs littered the parks' trails explaining the tweeters that flit through the area from time to time. 

And then right before I got in the car to head towards the airport an owl hooted loudly a couple times. The throaty "who" reverberating through the forest and through me. Such strong memories of being out in the woods, sleeping under tarp or tent hearing the call of the Wise Old Fellow. 

The Mormon Bonus

No story about Utah is complete without a mention of the Mormons. There is a fort, somewhere in Utah, signs for the fort are displayed along the highway, along with signs for a respite area. So lured, we parked and were open to some local history. Half way through the introductory film the nature of the place became apparent. Church of Latter Day Saints. A required tour guide, and a free gift at the end! What could it be!? A book of Mormon. As to not waste paper or plastic I declined the book and the DVD as well. So as not to offend I wore a smile and nodded in all the right places. I did not drink the Koolaid however. The sneakiness of this tactic bothered me a bit, as there was no warning until you were already firmly committed. The 'Sister' was not pushy but made you feel a bit guilty for not accepting Joe as a prophet (or is that profit?)

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