You have the right to remain silent...

Those are words that most people never want to hear, especially skinny 19 year old kids. Yet sadly, that's exactly what happened to me many years ago. Now don't go thinking that my misspent youth was a life of crime. It wasn't!!

It all happened innocently enough one Friday night. As was typical back then, my friends and I had plans to go cruising around. Since I didn't own a car myself, a friend of mine arrived to pick me up. In the car was John, the driver and one of my other friends, Tom.We really didn't have any plans that night, other than just to ride around town, looking for something to do. An all too common occurrence.

For some strange reason, Tom brought a squirt gun with him. Now, this was not your typical brightly colored Super Soaker. Noooo, this was a life-sized, hand painted .357 magnum water gun. It should be noted that the gun was originally florescent blue, but through the considerable artistic talent of Tom, was transformed into something less innocent looking. I'll admit, it WAS cool. Why did we have that with us on that fateful night is anyone's guess. I chalk it up to being 19. Kids just do dumb things!

In the 1980s it was very easy for underage kids to get alcohol. After picking me up, we headed to one of the many Portuguese Convenience stores that dotted the landscape in Taunton, Massachusetts. We chose this particular store because we had always had success in buying beer there. Lets just say that they were a little lax in checking IDs. Tonight was no different, as Tom came out with a six pack of Bud Tall Boys! As you can tell from the quantity of beer, we certainly had no plans to get drunk.

Soon after our purchase we found ourselves on a highway out of town. None of the beer had been consumed at this point. Suddenly, there was a car aggressively tailgating us. Now, if you are from Massachusetts, you grow used to tailgaters, but this one was different.

As a joke, I picked up the squirt gun, held it to the head of driver of my car, and said something like, "This is a carjacking. Lose this turkey behind us!" At which point John stomped on the gas pedal of his beat up 1964 Mustang.

With mild acceleration, we began to pull away from the tailgating car, and headed down the highway towards adventure. We just didn't realize how true that was. After a brief amount of time, the offending car sped by us at an excessive rate speed. Immediately, there were the Blue Lights of 3 Police cars in our rear view mirror.

Knowing we were minors in possession of alcohol (the six pack of beer), we knew right away that the long arm of the law was coming to get us! Like the good citizens we were, we followed the rules and immediately pulled over. Imagine our surprise when the 3 police cars went speeding by us, pursuing some other nefarious foe. With nervous laughter, we pulled back on the highway to continue on our way, thinking ourselves safe.

As we proceeded down the highway, we soon saw flashing blue lights up ahead. As we passed, we saw the three cop cars had pulled over the tailgater (apparently for speeding). We smiled to ourselves, and rejoicing in our good fortune, continued on our way.

Suddenly, as if appearing out of thin air, there were flashing blue lights behind us!! In addition to the three City of Taunton Police cars, there were also two Massachusetts State Police cars as well!! We again immediately pulled over. All the Police poured out of their cars and with guns drawn and pointing at our heads, yelled "Don't anyone move a muscle."

Let me assure that not one of us in the car so much as blinked. Although I cannot speak for my two friends, I was far too terrified to move! I have never had a gun pointed at me, never mind so many. One of the cops yelled, "Okay boys, lets see the gun.". Eager to comply, and to show them it was all a misunderstanding, I moved quickly to hand them the gun, never realizing how close I came to being shot. The Police did not know it was a squirt gun at that time.

Once they had the situation secured, they told me to get out of the car. As I exited, I was told "You're under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon." In a voice 9 octaves higher than normal I said, "For what, a squirt gun?" To which the Officer said "You think that's funny?" as he slammed my face into the hood of the car, bloodying my nose and fattening my lip. I can tell you in all honesty, I did not think it was funny. We were told that the driver who was tailgating told the police that I was hanging out the window, waving a gun at him. Nothing could be further from the truth. Why on Earth would he drive by us and give me a better target, if I was really hanging out the window? That is something we will never know.

I was so terrified that I nearly wet myself. I was placed in handcuffs, and shoved into the back of a patrol car where I heard those words we are all too familiar with from TV cop shows. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in court of law. If you cannot afford an  attorney...." You get the idea. Here I was, 19 years old, never in any trouble, arrested for Assault With A Deadly Weapon, and headed for jail. My friend John got arrested too, for being a Minor in possession/transportation of alcohol since it was his car. Tom was let go with no charges filed.

I am not sure why, but we were placed in a holding cell, not a jail cell. We were also never fingerprinted or photographed. We were allowed to make our one phone call. John called Tom to come bail him out. I called my mom.

This was more difficult than you can imagine. In the past, I had been known to call home and kid with my mom. I would call her and say, "I'm in jail, and this is my one phone call" whenever I was going to stay at a friend's house. It was our ongoing joke. Now, I found myself in the position of having to call my mom and convince her this wasn't a joke!! After a brief stunned silence, and a few choice words, my mother came to my rescue. We spent the entire night discussing exactly what transpired. Over and over again, my mother asked the same questions, presumably to see if I stuck to the same story.

Since I was 19 and technically an "Adult", and in between jobs at the time, a Court Appointed Lawyer was provided to me. He soon explained that if convicted for Assault With A Deadly Weapon, I was facing a one year mandatory sentence in a Massachusetts prison!!! I believe I almost fainted and I know my mother began to cry. We discussed the case and the events of that night. Although no promises were made, the Attorney did believe that we could avoid jail time based on the fact that I had never been in trouble before. There most likely would be Community Service if convicted. In my mind that was MUCH better than jail time.

Anyway, my court date came and the case was continued, as it would be 4 more times, never once was it stated that the "weapon" was a squirt gun. All the while, I remained unsure as to whether I would be attending the Prison Prom. I couldn't sleep well, nor could I eat. I lost a lot of weight and started to become depressed.

Finally, my next court date arrived and was not continued as all the previous dates were. I was finally getting my day in court. I would know my fate soon. I had to wait my turn though. I was in the midst of real criminals. There were thieves, drug dealers, prostitutes, and all manner of accused...and then there was me. A skinny, short scared white kid, who still couldn't believe this was happening.

After what seemed like hours of watching court proceedings, the Clerk of the Court called my name and announced the docket number. I stood at a podium, as the Prosecutor, Defense Attorney and the Judge discussed my case.

My heart rate was through the roof! Finally, the Judge looked at me over his horned rimed glasses. He asked me if I had ever been in trouble before. "No your Honor", I said in a much too high voice. My knees were wobbly and my mouth was very dry. After a brief pause the Judge spoke. "Let the weapon in question hereto be known a water pistol. This case is dismissed and sealed. No record will appear of this on your record. Stay out of trouble young man."

I was in shock. Did I hear correctly? Was I allowed to leave? Was I supposed to do something? I looked to my attorney and he smiled and said you are free to go. I thanked the Judge and my Attorney and nearly ran back to my mother, who had accompanied me to all my court dates. I hugged her and told her how sorry I was to put her through this. I never got in any more trouble after that!!!

Wild Kingdom....

In the historic town of Plymouth, Massachusetts, there is a public park called Brewster Gardens. Created in the early 1920s, the park covers the original garden plot that was granted to Elser William Brewster in 1620.

Located in the park are a bronze statue, The Pilgrim Maiden by Henry Hudson Kitson (1922) and The Immigrant Memorial by artist Barney Zeitz (2001), a stainless steel sculpture honoring Plymouth’s immigrant settlers from 1700 to 2000.

Also located in the park are hundred's and hundred's of ducks! Everywhere the eye could see. Ducks! Ducks in the water! Ducks in the sky! Ducks on land in the park!

In my early 20s, I was (and still am) interested in photography. At this time, I was also very much fond of ducks. I enjoyed watching them, photographing them and feeding them. I collected duck memorabilia of all kinds. I was a duck fanatic!

While visiting the Plymouth area with my girlfriend on a warm July day, I decided to visit the park to photograph ducks. It would be fun I thought. I would be a modern day Marlin Perkins, beloved host of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom.

I slowly walked among the grounds of the park, taking photos as I went along. None of the photos seemed right. I needed a more dramatic angle. I needed a close up! 

That was when I decided that I would belly crawl, slowly slithering across the ground, to get into the perfect position...and that's what I did.

I lowered myself to the ground, down onto my stomach. I gripped the camera in my hands, and I used my elbows to propel myself across the ground. 

Slowly I stalked my prey. Closer and closer I moved, ever so slowly, until I judged that I was close enough. I did not want to frighten the ducks away. Slowly I moved my finger, taking shot after shot after shot. I felt like a true wildlife photographer!!

When I deemed that I had taken enough photos, I slowly crawled back to where where I had started from. I slowly stood and turned around, and my girlfriend immediately started laughing. The more quizzical I looked, the harder she laughed.

When she finally caught her breath and could speak, she told me to look down at my shirt and pants. I lowered my gaze and was both immediately horrified and disgusted! In planning my impromptu photo safari, I made a major mistake. I did not scout my intended path.

Had I done so, it would have become immediately apparent that ducks do not particularly care where they go to the bathroom!!! Hundreds of ducks meant that there is an awful amount of "fowl" deposits and I had crawled 30 yards though it! 

Meanwhile, my girlfriend continued to laugh. The madder I got at her, the more she couldn't control herself. I was fit to be tied. The only saving grace was that underneath the clothes I was wearing, I had on shorts and a t-shirt, so I was able to remove the soiled clothing! Boy was I glad I wasn't trying to photograph elephants!!!

Thanks for reading!!

Send in the clowns....

Fears....as adults, we all still have them. Fear of losing a job, fear of something bad happening to our children, fear of a relationship not working out, fear of losing a parent to illness, just to name a few. However, deep down, we know that they are "just fears" and work to overcome them.

As a child, we have even more fears, but from a much more basic perspective, deep down somewhere in our very soul. These are based on unrealistic ideas to adults, yet VERY real to children. As we grow older, we overcome these (hopefully).

As a child, I had lots of fears. Fear of my basement at night (we lived in a house that was well over 100 years old), fear of the "Dead Guy Under the Porch" at my neighbor's house (the older kids scared us with that one), fear of eternal damnation (I went to Catholic School).

However, the three that really gave me fits were Spiders, Clowns and Flying Monkeys!

If you were not afraid of the Flying Monkeys from The Wizard of Oz as a child, there was something seriously wrong with you!! Those guys were scary and would rip the stuffing out of you if they caught you!

Spiders are just plain creepy. There is no sugar coating it. They have too many legs and far to many eyes. If that was bad enough, some of them jump!



That being said, clowns were my number one fear. Let's face it. Clowns are scary. Clown costumes have been used in murder and molestation of children. Clowns just plain suck! Steven King even wrote a book about a bad clown named Pennywise the Clown.

It's called "It", and if you don't believe me that clowns are bad, just read it! Just look at this clown photo. Is that anything a kid should like? No, absolutely not. My fear of clowns, or coulrophobia if you prefer, started a long time ago.

When I was about 4 years old, my mother took me to the Ice Capades. For those of you too young to remember the Ice Capades, think Disney on Ice but with fewer characters and more figure skaters.

Anyway, unbeknownst to me, as we were entering the arena, my mother was approached by a show official who asked her if it would be alright if I was part of the show. Of course, like any parent, she jumped at the chance. ( I would do that now with my children).

At the Intermission of the show, clowns would go out into the audience to collect the children and bring them onto the ice. Sadly, no one told me or thought to ask me if I wanted to do this. I was a very shy child.

At the appointed time, I could see clowns bringing children down to the ice for a sleigh ride in front of the entire show. Suddenly, a clown snuck out from under my seat, took my hand and tried to bring me to the ice. I screamed and cried, and held on to my mother. She, on the other hand, was trying to give me to the Clown!!! How dare she!!! Mothers are supposed to protect children!!! Here she was trying to force me to go with this Clown. I was horrified and howled in protest and even the big swirly lollipop

the Clown offered me would not persuade me to go with the her.

Meanwhile, my aunt Kathy, who was only 6 years older than me, was furious!!! She really wanted to go out on the ice with the kids, but at 10 years old was too old. Her indignity was compounded when everyone relented and decided maybe it was best I stayed in my seat with my mother.  She glared at me when the Clown still gave me the lollipop. The rest of the show went on with little to no drama for me, but I was never brought to the Ice Capades again!!

My fear of clowns has been a source of family amusement throughout my life. Anytime a clown was spotted, it would have to be pointed out to me. My 13 year old daughter still likes to do that to me. She finds it funny her dad doesn't like clowns.

Although I still don't like clowns, I no longer fear them as I did as a child. My aunt, however, did get her revenge on me many years later. At my 40th birthday party, she bought red clown noses and had everyone put one on while I wasn't looking.  When I came out of the bathroom, there were 40 "new clowns" in my house!!

Send in the Clowns? I think not! Thanks for reading!!!

"Failure is not an option..."

Failure is not an option...those words, spoken 47 years ago during the Apollo 13 crisis, never hold more importance to me then when I am clinging precariously to some rocks, high up on a mountain Slide.

For those of you who are not familiar with Slides, think Landslides. It's where a section of a mountain has, through excess rain or earthquake, let go and crashed down the side of a mountain, leaving a barren scar of broken trees and destruction.

Any of you who have read my blog before will know, I am a hiker. When I originally started hiking 10 years ago, I was obsessed with hiking list. New Hampshire 48 4Ks, 52 With A View, Terrifying 25 to name a few. Now, I prefer the challenge of finding my own way "bushwhacking" up a steep, rugged, trail-less slide. I will admit the added element of danger is part of the thrill.

I have gained a lot of experience Solo hiking the last couple of years and I'm now very confident and comfortable on trail by myself. Some days I actually prefer it. This particular day, I decided to solo hike the Arrow Slide on North Hancock in New Hampshire. 

While I normally would not solo hike a Slide without a sanctioned trail, I had hiked this previously and felt very confident in my potential for success.

The day started, as they typically do, with my Fitbit gently vibrating on my wrist, waking me up. It was 4:30 AM, and the early morning September day was already hot and heavy with humidity. It was an Indian Summer. It would get much hotter later, since the slide is very exposed to the Sun. 

I arrived at the parking lot at 6:30, and as usual, found myself the first vehicle in the lot. I quickly changed in to my trail runners and donned my backpack, put on my ball cap, set my Tracking App and headed off. The walk in to the start of the Slide is a pleasant, flat walk (mostly) through hardwood forest. It is a great approach that allows you sufficient time to warm up before beginning the climb. 

The walk in was dark at first, requiring I use a headlamp. I always feel a tad unsettled when hiking solo in the dark. I always imagine dangers are lurking just beyond the protection of my light!

When I am solo I tend to push myself, and I made it to the beginning of the bushwhack in quick time. The bushwhack is very short and easy to follow. I soon found the beginning of the Slide, donned my leather work gloves I use for climbing and started up.

I was a little nervous since this was my first Solo hike on a steep, non-official trail. Nervousness soon turned to excitement as I began to feel that familiar adrenaline rush of anticipation. Part of this was knowing that if something were to go wrong, it would most likely be a long time until a SAR Team came to my aide. With that in mind, I was very alert and super focused.

The bottom of the Slide is rather narrow with different size boulders to navigate over or around. Some of the rocks are a bit loose and will move on you so great care must be taken.

After about 300 yards or so, the Slide opens up much wider, with less big boulders. At this point it is mostly slab rock and loose scree (small, loose stones). I do not particularly like walking on scree, so I chose the slab section to ascend this part of the Slide. 

That was wrong choice number one.

The section of slab that I was ascending was considerably steep. I could clearly see that it was wet and slimy in sections, but figured I could navigate around those sections.

Before heading up, I stood at the bottom of the slab and plotted my route. I knew the way I would choose would be difficult, but I had confidence in my abilities.

I started up. There is a saying in Special Forces that says "Slow is fast, and fast is smooth". This is especially true when climbing steep, tricky Slides.

The slab pitched up steeper still.

The dry patch of rock that I was using began to narrow considerably, with wet, slime covered rocks on either side of me.

The Slide got steeper. 

Suddenly, there was no more dry rock. I was not going up from this way any more.

While stood there on the steep section contemplating my options, I shifted my weight and readjusted my stance.

Mistake number two.

My left foot hit the slime and with agonizing slowness, I could feel that foot slowly losing grip and start to slide. This caused me to try to move away from that section and inadvertently stepped in slime with my right foot.

Now I was seriously screwed. My slow slide suddenly began to pickup speed. I desperately started clawing at the rocks, looking for any kind of handhold that might help arrest my fall.

No such luck.

Anything I touched seemed covered in the same green slime, giving no grip to my gloved covered hands.

 As I frantically looked for a way out, all I could think was "This can't be how it ends!" This was getting very serious. Another 60 feet and there was a 25-30 foot drop. I did not want to go over that!!

Frantically, I continued to claw at the rock, to no avail. My heart was beating about 200 bpm.

I believe I screamed in anger and fear...when suddenly I came to a bone jarring stop! The very tip of my left trail-runner had miraculously hit a small bump in on the slab. I clung to the side of the mountain, chest heaving, for about 20 minutes, trying to get my heart rate to subside.

Once I did get it down to manageable levels, I took stock of my situation. I was by no means out of danger. I saw that I had to descend another 20 yards to where I could cross over to the right. It was very steep and I felt as if I could slip again at any time. Thankfully, I was able to maneuver to where I was able to cross safely over.

The remainder of the hike went smoothly enough. At the top of the Slide there is a small bushwhack to the summit of N Hancock. It was awesome to see the look of surprise on their face when I popped out of the bushes fro below them!

The moral of this story is that no matter how confident and experienced you may be, shit can  and does happen. Stay safe out there my friends!

Thanks for reading. Here are some more photos and a couple of videos!

This is my I am happy I am not dead smile.

The Prouty...

I recently rode in the Prouty Cancer Charity ride out of Hanover, NH USA, and it got me thinking about the first time I rode that nearly 6 years ago. For those of you that don’t know what a Century ride is, it is a fully supported charity bicycle ride of 100 miles. On an average Century ride, I will burn between 6000 and 7000 calories and will lose 5-7 pounds. I want to relate to you what it was like that first time:

It’s the night before. I can’t sleep. Nervous energy races through me. Will the hills be too hard? How hot will it be? Can I make it? I finally fall asleep at 3 am only to have the alarm go off at 4:30. Although tied, I nearly jump out of bed and quickly dress. Downstairs, I make myself a large coffee for the hour ride to the start of the event. With the bike loaded on top, and my helmet, shoes and other accompaniments, I set off at 5:00 am.

Miraculously, I met my riding partners in the crowd of 2000 cyclist. Eager to ride, we take off. 10 miles into the ride I feel great! I am energized by the sights and sounds of the other cyclist. The road is awash in color from all the different jerseys the riders are wearing. The wind is light and the temperature just a little chilly, but promising to warm up quickly.

20 miles have gone by now. I still feel great. I can’t believe how good I am riding and how strong I feel. I am a cycling god today! I am passing riders left and right. It almost feels as if I am flying. I take a sip from my grape Poweraide filled water bottle. It tastes like nectar from the gods!

40 Miles now! I am the Energizer Bunny. I keep going and going! There are only 60 more miles to go! We are all doing great. The heat is starting to build quickly, but I am hydrating well so it is not a problem. This is a piece of cake. I am going up hills like there is a motor on my bike.

60 miles. I am beginning to feel periodic cramping in my legs. My back is getting a little sore from being bent over the handlebars for so long.I can no longer feel my behind!! Even though I am having some cramping, my legs feel pretty good. I should ride a Century Ride every weekend! Maybe I will ride in the Tour de France next year!!

70 miles…the first hint of being tied has started to creep in. The heat has built up quite a lot. I try to ride in the shadows on the side of the road to stay out of the sun. Still feeling good but I have run out of water and it is about 10 miles until the next stop. It’s touching the mid 90s now. I am thirsty.
80 miles in…the heat is unbearable. There is no shade to be found anywhere. I am starting to hallucinate. The sweat is stinging my eyes and making it hard to see. I HATE everybody right now. Why did I decide to ride this? What was I thinking? I can’t seem to drink enough fluids. I am severely dehydrated. I HATE my bike right now!!!

86 miles…I would sell my soul for an air-conditioned ride home right now. I would leave my hated bicycle on the side of the road, hoping to never see it or another bicycle again! I think I might die from the heat.

90 miles in…wait, WTF? Did I just hear that the last 10 miles are all up hill? Are you F’ing kidding me? If I can find the sadistic bastard that designed this course I will pummel him until he lay bleeding in the dirt, provided I haven’t already died from this heat! As if the up hills aren’t enough, we now have a 20 mile headwind. Is that thunder I just heard? Must pedal faster!!!!

100 miles!!! I made it. As I cross the finish line, I am cheered and thanked by many volunteers that line each side of the finish. I feel like I just won the Tour de France! As I walk through the finish area, and see the other riders and volunteers, I remember the list of names I carried in my pocket. I read the names of friends and family members and remember why I ride, and vow to ride again next year!
Thanks for reading!

What a long strange trip it's been....

Anyone who knows me, knows that I love the Grateful Dead. For those who don't know, the Grateful Dead is a rock band formed in San Francisco in the early 1960s. I have been listening to them for nearly 40 years, and attended over 35 of their concerts.

Sadly, on August 9, 1995, lead singer and original band member, Jerry Garcia passed away. The legions of fans thought this was the end. Happily, the remaining band members continued the journey in many different forms and incantations, both with surviving members, or on solo projects. Many other bands formed as tribute bands, playing Grateful Dead music. One such band, Dark Star Orchestra (DSO), has been performing for twenty years.  I have attended 25 of their performances. The difference between DSO and other tribute bands is that DSO recreates entire past Grateful Dead concerts song for son, transporting the listener to a past show.

Part of the mystique of the band is the fans, better known as Dead Heads. You haven't lived until you have walked through the parking lots prior to a Grateful Dead concert. You would see a multi-colored sea of tie dye shirts and happy people partying before the show.

In late November of 2016, I had tickets to a DSO show in Concord, New Hampshire, USA. As usual, my friends and I went to a local pub for some dinner and drinks before the show. The pub was filled with many concert goers all listening to Grateful Dead music and having a good time. While enjoying drinks with my friends, this older couple came in and sat down at a table near us. The wife commented that she liked my Grateful Dead concert shirt and was distressed that she forgot to bring one herself.

Now, part of the mystique of Dead Heads is that many of them are extremely generous, and would give the shirt right off their backs. That is exactly what I did. I asked the women if she wanted to wear my shirt (I had a base layer underneath). She protested that she couldn't take my shirt. I insisted that she could, and immediately took it off and handed it to her. To say she was shocked was an understatement.

After putting the shirt on over her blouse, she said that we could meet after the show and she would give it back. I reminded her that there were about 2000 people going to the show and we probably wouldn't be able to find each other. I said to her "Let's leave it all up to the Fates. If I see you after the show, you can give me back my shirt. If not, keep it and wear it in good health." All the other patrons in the pub were both equally shocked and impressed that I literally gave the shirt off my back to a total stranger. I didn't think to much more about it and continued to drink my beer.

Finally, the time came to go into the show, which was General Admission. My friend Rob and I made our way as far up front as we could, and found seats about 11 rows back from the stage on the the left hand side. I looked ahead, and there two rows directly in front of us, was the woman I gave my shirt to. I could not believe my good luck! The show went for about two and half hours and we all enjoyed ourselves tremendously. At the end of the show, good to her word, the woman gave me my shirt back and thanked me profusely, saying I had made her night. We both came away with a story of how a good deed was rewarded in the end. Karma can work in many ways! Anyway, be cool to each  other and rock on! Thanks for reading! 

A trail less traveled...

By now, anyone who has read my blog knows that I am an avid hiker. Nothing thrills me more than to be in the woods, on a mountain trail, all alone. In fact, I seek out the trails less traveled to experience the solitude and serenity of the wilderness. This past Sunday was no different. I had decided to hike Mt Lafayette, the sixth tallest mountain in New Hampshire at 5,248 feet.

I generally hike alone, and like most hikers, have suffered minor trail inconveniences like blisters, rolled ankles and scrapes. Thankfully, I had never suffered a major injury on the trail. That is, until last Sunday when I severely sprained my ankle and was still three miles from the car...but I jump ahead of myself...

Mt Lafayette is also located right off I93 in New Hampshire, so is a favorite of tourist hikers, and therefore can become quite crowded. Knowing this, I decided to hike the less used Skookumchuck Trail. This decision proved to be the right choice because I had the trail all to myself all day.

The Skookumchuck Trail approaches the mountain from a northerly direction. It is also one of the longest ways to access the summit with a total hike (one way) of 5.1 miles. This alone dissuades many hikers, who want the shortest distance to the summit. I on the other hand, will search out these trails to avoid the crowds. I am usually never disappointed.

The Skookumchuck Trail ascends at a gentle slope for the first 2+ miles through wonderful hardwood forest. The forest is more open than most because there was some extensive logging there in the not too distance past. While you can see much father through the trees, I am not sure I like this practice because it takes away from the original nature of the woods.

This hike started out, like most of my hikes seem to do, in the early morning from an empty parking lot in the mountains. The temperature was about 32 degrees and there was very little wind. The gentle sound of song birds filled the air, with the occasional screech form a couple of crows. I donned my pack and gloves, set the Hiking Tracker on my phone, and off I went.

The blazes are frequent and full of color, although the trail is so evident that you could find your way without them. As I mentioned, The Skookumchuck Trail is rather an easy grade at first.

For much of the trail, the gentle and soothing sound of a brook serenades you for the first couple of miles. I am always on the search for woodland critters near the streams. With the loud water sounds, they sometimes don't hear you. I did not see any this day unfortunately.

Although this was early Spring, after the first two miles I ran into the snow. Much of the snow had turned to ice, making difficult to maintain good traction, even with Hillsound micro spikes. Thankfully, there were lots of handholds on the trees to help navigate through the ice.

The icy conditions of the trail continued unabated until nearly the summit. This necessitated focus and concentration on each step to ensure safety. Eventually, after much work, I began to break out of the trees into the Alpine Zone.

Quite frequently, the summit can be covered in clouds. Thankfully, this day was not like that. It was a rare early Spring exception. This day was a pleasure. Bluebird Sky, light winds and ground fog to give the pictures character. It was much different when I hiked this trail the previous December. The wind chills were below zero and the visibility was non-existent.

At this point, I had traveled 4.2 miles, mostly in the trees, and the last half of the hike over ice. Here above tree line, where the sun has unfetted access to the mountain, the ice and snow were minimal. I took off the Hillsound micro spikes for the summit push, which according to the trail sign was .8 miles away.

Shortly after removing the spikes, I hit a section of trail that looked like snow, but was solid ice. On went the spikes once again. This was a tricky section right below the summit. If you lost traction here, there was a good chance you would get hurt. As tricky as it was going up, it was much worse descending this section.

However, with grit and determination, and a bit of confidence, I soon cleared this section and was able to reach the summit. There was a couple just leaving as I arrived, so I had the summit to myself until I left.

I have climbed this mountain on five separate occasions and all but two of them were good days. The winds and clouds usually obscure the views from the ridge, but today was one of those that makes everything worth while!

The summit had bright sunshine, low winds and unlimited views in all directions. I was truly in my happy place. (I didn't know what was in store for me later on the way down).

I found a place to relax and eat my breakfast. The view I had while eating was spectacular. I could have sat there for hours contemplating the view of the Pemigewasset Wilderness below me.

All too soon, it was time to descend. "You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know. Rene Daumal"

The descent started easily enough. I just retraced the same route back that I took to the summit.While descending, I was treated to wonderful views until the trail led back  into the trees. 

Once in the trees, I was forced to deal with the icy conditions and place each step with care, to avoid injury. All went well until I was well into the descent, but still 3 miles from the car. 

On a steep section of the trail, I thought I was stepping on a stone, when in fact it was a slippery, rotting log. This is something I try to avoid at all cost. Sadly, as soon as I stepped on the log, my left leg shot out from me, while my body pitched the other direction. My right foot remained planted and took the brunt of the fall. I immediately felt a white hot pain shoot through my lower leg as I landed on top of a rock. I screamed in pain, but quickly regained composure. Although my leg was very painful, I did not see that I had any other injuries other than a scrape that was bleeding slightly. I decided to stand up, but when I put weight on my right foot, down I went again with a lot of pain. 

This time I screamed in frustration at my predicament. Here I was, on a trail seldom used by hikers, 3 miles from my car, and I possibly had broken my ankle. This was not an ideal time to be solo hiking. The last thing I wanted to do was to call in Search and Rescue (SAR). Not only did I think they had more important things to do then come for me, I did not want to be a news story splashed across local TV and Facebook! 

I sat on a a rock and drank some Gatorade and ate a granola bar. and took stock of my situation. I had plenty of daylight left, which was good. It was relatively warm and sunny, which was even better. I had 3 miles to go, which thankfully wasn't 5 or more, but still a long way considering my problem. 

I decided to sit for awhile to give my foot & ankle a chance to rest.  I then got out my adjustable hiking poles (which I only carry for emergencies) and adjusted them to the proper height. My plan was to use the two poles, in conjunction with my good leg, to keep as much pressure of the right as possible. When I finally stood up again, I found that I could put a little pressure on the foot, although it was quite painful. 

Although the trail was relatively smooth, the going was considerably slower than I would normally hike. Every bump, or little jolt to my right foot sent waves of pain. I know for a fact that I sounded like an old man with all the grunts, grimaces of pain and swearing I did while trying to navigate the trail. Eventually, after much effort, I successfully rescued myself and made back to my car.

The next day at the orthopedic clinic it was confirmed. A severe high ankle sprain. I was issued a temporary cast and told to stay off it as much as possible and no hiking for at least two weeks. I'll probably go stir crazy waiting for the time to pass until I can hit the trails again. 

Enjoy some more photos from an otherwise spectacular day, all things considered! Happy trails.
Thanks for reading! 

Mt Garfield

Mt Washington and the Presidential Range

Nearing the summit of Lafayette

Cannon Mt

N & S Kinsman and the Franconia Notch

Lafayette Summit

The doctor's orders were to relax for two weeks. This should do it!

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