Gunks Fall Season Has Arrived!

The e-connection of my computer's still funked, but at least now I have exhauseted all hope of doing a self-fix..... Resignedly, I'm packing the thing up and taking it to the shop this afternoon, where I'm expecting to receive a diagnosis of "fried modem" or something similar.

In the interim..... Despite a slow start on Saturday(morning climbing called on account of rain), the day did an about-face around 10am and a splendid "feels like autumn" day stepped forth. Though it had been raining steadily since late night Friday, the cliffs hadn't even gotten wet. Must have been the direction and angle the precip dripped. Nature had thrown a curve ball in the team's favor and the backside of the Trapps got a nice watering, while the front side stayed cool and dry to the touch. Climb on!

Plenty of people out there, too. Teddy couldn't move ten paces without someone from his fan club stopping to say hello and shake his paw.

I flailed lightly before slipping into the void of "the move" on Shockley's Ceiling. Luckily, I brannish a pair of prussiks like a cowboy does his pistols. Embarrassing - but true.

Still, it was a good day, and later we headed into town for the John Bragg slideshow - first entertainment event of the season. Beautiful pictures, incredible scenery, fun stories - If you missed it, you missed a good one.

The event was in support of the Gunks Climber's Coalition Rescue Fund, and $800 was raised.

Perhpas even more valuable.... was the announcement updating us on the status at the Rosendale Water Works.

If you don't know, this is an area that came into the spotlight a short while back; bouldering has been going on there, to climb what is allegedly(I've never been, nor spoeken to anyone with firsthand knowledge) world class third class..... Word was spreading and whispers of access issues arose in the mix.

Something had to be done....

The GCC has been working with the Mohonk Preserve and Open Space Institute on acquiring this land, and a Letter of Understanding was signed last week. So far as I have seen, the Open Space Institute gets things done, and if all goes as hoped....the Gunks 2008 season will be seeing an incredible new venue for serious bouldering.

I like to boulder, and even though I climb less than V0, can't wait to see how this pans out. Hopefully, many of the area boulderers will be interested in stewardship for this new locale, and will avail themselves of the considerable amount of work that will go into developing and maintaining the space. The Rosendale Water Works will be part of the Mohonk Preserve, which excels in educating preservation ethics, so the place should become a crowning gem in the US bouldering scene.

In other news - when I recently spoke with guidebook author Dick Williams about his progress on the lates edition(updated guidebook to the Near Trapps), he said the writing had been completed!

This was no small task, as the man personally (re)climbed most of the existing routes in order to insure as accurate a book as can be made, while putting in many new routes at the same time. (We joke, a while back, that when he'd written in the earlier guide not to bother with sections of the cliffs duew to loose and dangerous conditions, that he was actually trying to deflect interest because he hadn't been able to snag all the FA's he'd been eyeing!)

Of course, parts of the Nears ARe known to have loose, chossy sections and Williams, in his climbing research, safely trundled rocks that were ready to roll as he came across them. This made for slower progress with his book work, but it's of incredible benefit to our climbing community, and something most of us will never even be aware of. Thanks Dick!

The book has been(or is soon to be) handed to an associate who will put it into Quark for editing, and Dick is going through his picture collections to decide which photographs wil be included in the new guide. He expects the book to be available in stores early next year, in time for the spring season of 2008.

Though many will lament the sure to be expected production that might aptly be called "Gumbys at the Gunks" to quickly run through the Nears, the publication will certainly be a most welcome one by the majority. Not only will many existing routes that have not been included in previous editions come to light, but also variations and linkups, along with new lines put up since the last edition. As happened with the release of the Trapps guide a few years ago, the Gunks will suddenly seem bigger, as people explore lines they'd previously been walking past unawares.

I also heard that the Adopt-A-Crag Skytop CleanUp, which I mentioned a few posts back, went very well despite a rainy day start. Volunteers filled five large bags of trash, the majority of which consisted of plastic water bottles left in situ by hotel guests and day-hikers visiting the property. One need only think about this in juxtaposition to an average Peterskill CleanUp day to comprehend the difference in mindset between those committed to the area(such as climbers and dedictaed hikers) and the person for whom a daytrip to the outdoors is their adventure of the year.

Keep in mind that the next Adopt-A-Crag event will be on October 20th. This is a great way to meet others from the area, give a little back, and get involved.

As well, the New Paltz Film Festival takes place on Saturday, October 6th. There are plenty of events the whole weekend too. Kick off the weekend on Friday night with a slideshow at the Mohonk Preserve Visitor Center. There's a bagel breakfast and climbing clinics on Saturday at the Trapps, the Film Festival that evening, and another slideshow (or film?) at Rock and Snow on Sunday night.


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NY Times Front Page News: "$(-)!^, But Not in the Pot - Pack It Out!"

Normally, I don't notice the news as it appears in papers and other media; I get my news from rc.com(gawd help me) and Supertopo(where, at least the "top stories" don't all boil down to teenaged-boy homophobic attitude railings within 20 posts). But I am a dog-walker, and the summer season has ended. Pepper and Mocha, two cute-as-can-be Havanese, and their family have returned to their posh UWS home from the summer city exodus, and I am back on schedule with their 8am P & P (Poop and Perambulation).

I had to be up and at 'em at eight, but apparently the Pepper/Mocha People had forgotten vacation was over, and I found the front door locked. I quietly knocked, expecting the HUGE Barking Brigade to begin.

Silence.

Eventually, I rang the bell, and it took two more rings, and about 10 minutes before a fresh outa bed Dad opened the door. I guess the girls will be late for school today....

At any rate, in the interim, I tried to amuse myself, and noticed the morning paper at my feet.

I hate looking at front page news. It's propaganda, no matter which viewpoint you come from. Ben Franklin probably cries himself to sleep at night, up in heaven, at what hath been wrought to the press' freedom.

And so....I scanned the page, just for something to do. I had plenty of time....they were really z'ing away in that house. Even the dogs didn't wake up! Below the crease(where news without corporate sponsorship can occasionally be found), I saw an article entitled "No More Privies, So Hikers Add a Carry-Along". Probably my eye was first caught by the photo, of real earth, but I'm able to process info fairly quickly....

Anyway - the story's about the removal of toilets on Mt. Whitney and how, instead, hikers are being given poop bags, in order to reduce the cost/grossness/cleanup labor associated with the traditional park tourist's commode.

I think it's an interesting idea, though of course fraught with plenty of political sidings. We've all heard about the legendary $2500 toilet seat purchases our government makes. How much do you suspect we(taxpayers) are shelling out per WagBag?

First hit on the search engine gives me a retail price of $1.85 to a little over $2 per bag. How much you wanna bet our "official designated procurer" has contracted a near or higher unit price than that for industrial quantities? Maybe; maybe not. But probably.....

In the article there's a quote where a lady says “There are so many indignities on the trail anyway. And people do that all the time with their dogs in the city.” (Aha! A link to my lead-in paragraph! Dogs.....).

Indignities? What indignity is there, on the trail? Do you think she's referring to being one of over 300 people who will trammel the same wilderness highway in a single day(as the article mentions? Sure gives new meaning to the term "Parkway".....).

Or maybe she means the way US citizens get double-billed for actually using lands they already support? Wonder if the mining and timber companies pay an entrance fee when passing national park boundaries.....

I dunno, but I get the feeling not(I mean, the 'indelicacies' thing). I suspect she refers to the possibility of actually having "the world" know your shit might stink, just like everybody else's(or at least everybody who eats processed foods with stink-producing after-affects).

Anyway - there's a video included in the article, where a Times reporter is talking about a changing environmental ethic. I have dialup service, so that's off-limits to me. But it might have some interest to you.

Personally, I like the idea of people taking more personal responsibility. But I can't help but imagine the repercussions. People won't want to carry their crap out(the horreur!) and so they'll toss the poop bags("Bombs Away!"). The term "Mud Falcon" is part of Big Wall lexicon; I wonder what these olive drab birds will go by....Keep your eyes open - "Outside Magazine" will probably clue you in sometime in the next year or so...).

Or, people will leave the filled MicroSquatPots right where they squatted...Unsealed, most likely. And then we will be paying yet again, for the professional picker-uppers to go in and remove the hazardous waste - at how many dollars per hour?

Oh...I could go on, and perhaps you have something to say about it. I'd be interested to hear other's takes on the issue. Feel free to post a comment below. If discussion gets going, someone can start a thread over on my discussion forum.

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Wanna Go To SkyTop(and Not Pay the Ginormous Fees)?

Everyone knows that climbing at Skytop has been unsanctioned (or off-limits, if you don't know what that means....) since the mid-nineties. Well, maybe not everyone, but at least most locals and people who've visited the place. Or have considered coming. Or might in the future, or have talked to someone who thought about coming.... Might as well be everyone!

And most of THOSE people people are aware that the start of the 2007 climbing season saw a hallamrk in history, where Skytop became officially available to the...masses....again.

Well, at least the masses who could afford a two-night's stay at the Mohonk Mountain House and a guide fee "adjusted slightly upward," to defray the costs of coordinating guests with the activity, I suppose.

Jealous? Wishing YOU had the guts to just sneak in and reach for the Skytops routes? I THOUGHT so!

Well - here's your chance.... Read the bulletin below, and sign up now!*
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On Sept 15th and Oct 20th, 2007 Two Adopt-A-Crag Days Scheduled

Note: This text was directly lifted from the Gunks Climbers Coalition site.

The Gunks Climbers' Coalition, in cooperation with the Mohonk Mountain House, is pleased to announce that our first Adopt-a-Crag event this year will take place at Skytop on Saturday, September 15, from 9 AM to 1 PM. We are seeking twelve volunteers on a first-register, first-served basis (the number is limited by insurance restrictions) to collect litter in the talus apron around the crag. Send an email to: GCC@gunksclimbers.org to register for this event. More details will be provided once your registration is completed.

In cooperation with Minnewaska State Park Preserve, we will also be holding a second Adopt-a-Crag day of trail maintenance and micro-trash removal at Peter's Kill on Saturday, October 20. Click here for more information.

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* I didn't specifically say, in this post's title, that you could climb. Just asked if you wanted to go!

I know, I know....You may be mad at me for "making" you read this post, all just to announce an opportunity to volunteer with your fellow climbers. I'm sneaky that way.

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Work In Progress

Nearly anyone who's been a visitor to the Gunks in the last several years recognizes the location in the picture above. It's the "Bunny Slope!" Located in the Trapps, this steep section abuts the rock wall as you come into the Uberfall area.

It's not actually part of the cliff, as it consists of a mixture of loose rocks and dirt. Corralled by a low fence of Gunks conglomerate laid down by volunteers on a National Trails Day in the 1990's, the slope is anchored in place by a few small trees and partially buried boulders. It's not really talus, nor is it woodland. The Bunny Slope inhabits a sort of netherworld between rock and (carriage) road.

I've only been a preserve member for the last four seasons, but I've passed this spot hundreds of times. As for the natural beauty that dominates the preserve, this spot seems a bit of an apparition. Because the slope is very fragile, even the smallest amount of interaction with humans(a child allowed to scramble on it, a dog left to dig for buried treasure, or a belayer with a less than average level of common sense), the majority of the section is roped off with accessory cord, and hung with a sign that advises "Slope Restoration in Progress," reminding us to stay off.

I assumed that the timeline for this particular restoration process was to be measured in generations, if not centuries. Being that the ethic of the Mohonk Preserve is to allow the land to regenerate to a pre-industrial era state, I just thought that over time - lots of time - the idea was that silt would wash down from the enormous off-width fissure behind the Herdie Gerdie block, eventually creating..... well, something more attractive than what we see above, at least.

Not to be so! In fact, the revolution has already begun. Volunteers who work on trail maintenance in the climbing areas of the preserve have spent the last few Sundays preparing for major restoration of the Bunny Slope.

A little over a month ago, we began harvesting rocks form the talus slope to the west of the area. Most of these have already been used though, in the creation of a "patio-type" surface at the base of the Herdie Gerdie Block, which was phase I in this project - to preserve, protect and highlight an area what is tantamount to the "Gateway to the Gunks."

Some might think that this is all simply an unneeded "beautification project;" even unethical, since the preserve looks to recreate an environment reminiscent of the early 19th century. But they would be incorrect in that supposition. The layer of rock actually serves to protect the fastly-eroding slope that fronts that highly-trafficked spot.

As you can see in the photo someone is just starting up "Nurdy Gerdie"(a/k/a "Dogs in Heat," a 5.10+(crack around the corner is off-route) face climb. That, and the two more popular routes on that short bit of rock easily see more than a dozen ascents on an average weekend day in season, frequently groups of three or more, including posses of families and other bystanders. People scamper over that short slope, set out picnics, kick at the dirt out of bored habit as they lock off their hang-dogging partner.....

In short, the area sees a tremendous amount of abuse, which is only increasing as gym climbers not yet (or never to be) experienced with placing gear on lead flock to the easily accessible top-roping climbs of the Gunks.

It wouldn't be so much of a problem had a few poor old trees not had the foresight to realize how much the neighborhood would change when they set down roots before most of us were saplings.....

Root damage.

It's an aspect of conservation that even the most conscientious of us may be unaware of. You see - when we tread over a tree's root system, we wear off miniscule bits of the protective layer that is utterly necessary to insure the health and natural life-span of that tree. Over time, any tree with exposed roots (which is a prevalent feature in the Shawangunks area) will suffer due to this loss of "skin." With extreme abuse, the tree simply cannot survive.

The Herdie Gerdie block is partially popular because it offers shade from a hot summer's sun. That shade comes from the few trees growing in the vicinity. Trees that see such a tremendous amount of irritation to their roots that they surely can't stay healthy if the trauma were to continue.

To counteract this problem, volunteers placed rocks within the spaces of the labyrinth of roots. Building up a sub-floor that allows for proper drainage(for built-up moisture would rot the roots and kill them even more readily than being trammeled), the "patio" protects the tree roots while at the same time also provides climbers a safer platform to work from. No more tripping over intertwining roots as belayers shift stances. Climbers coming off from a low level won't risk an ankle-breaking impact by hitting an uneven surface.

After completing that work, we went out in search of more rocks to use in our reclamation project of the Bunny Slope. Last Sunday, we spent an entire morning trundling from the lower talus slope in the vicinity of the "Stairmaster," or East Trapps Connector Trail, as it is officially know as.

As most people know, trundling rock is a BIG no-no at the Gunks. It's dangerous too, as impact from even an incredibly small rock coming from above can be fatal.

And that's just for innocent bystanders! Imagine standing in the talus field, amidst a herd of heavy smallish boulders(Gunks Conglomerate, the local breed of rock) weight 155 pounds per cubic foot). Each rock rests upon the one below it, sometimes solidly. Sometimes very precariously. Sometimes the top rock anchors the ones below.... Move one - and you have potentially upset the masses. Move the WRONG one, and the herd stampedes!

I was well aware of this aspect of talus-picking, as I got my on-the-job. I didn't want my tombstone epitaph to read "Trampled While Trundling." Even one of those bulls on the run would have snapped my leg like a tiny twig if it had cut loose. The fact that the rocks crash against each other, emitting a smell very much like that of explosives, also helps put everything in perspective.

In fact, I DID have a close call at the day's start, when a rock reoriented itself and landed on my pinky. I hadn't even touched it; simple vibration from....somewhere... seemingly launched the motion, and it made a minor adjustment. The pain was severe, and I really was worried about what I'd find when I removed my workglove. The rock had been only about the size of a Honeydew melon(which meant it weighed somewhere around 20 pounds), but I half-expected to see a mangled and bloody fingertip. I was very relieved to see just a red bruise.

In case you wonder why I mention all this - it's to apprise anyone not aware of the inherent danger. Do NOT try this at home(if your home away from home is an area where rocks hang out).

One unintended benefit of the trundling is that one intentional avalanche opened up a beautiful vista in the lower talus field we were working in. Al, a longtime trail crew volunteer, had nudged two small rocks(by trail crew standards, though the rocks weighed about 70 pounds each), and the shift set in motion a rock slide that brought down a great cache of sizable rock. We'll gather and use them for the retaining walls we create on Bunny Slope.

If you happen by the Connector Trail in the next few days, you may notice the pile. They sit at the talus base about 20 feet west of the wooden trail marker sign. You would recognize them because they seem to have been attacked my a Tick Marking Maniac! White chalk-like scars, about three to four inches long, seemingly point to many of the corners on these rocks. The pile has the appearance of a natural rockslide, which it was, even though started with a helping hand.

Bring your eyes upward to the large multiple-trunked tree that grows about 40 feet up from the carriage road, and notice the wonderful rock ledge the tree is growing from. It almost has the appearance of a sculpted oriental garden...on a grand scale, of course.

Another benefit that came of Al's slide was the displacement of "a few good men;" boulders that are going to be the cornerstones of our project. By moving two melon-sized rocks, the cascade let loose about 50 others, which in turn allowed the downward march of some hefty hunks of the Gunks. These rocks a BIG - probably weighing close to a thousand pounds and the size of dorm refrigerators. Earlier this week, Dick Williams, who leads the trail crew, worked with another preserve volunteer, on the removal and transportation of these boulders. They are to be brought down to our work-site in the jaws of a bull-dozer type machine.

You'll see the smaller rocks we have gathered already at the work area; we've plied them on the edge of the carriage road, near but not impeding, at the starts of Bunny, Retribution, Bo Solution and Nosedive. This rock pile consists of an estimated eight tons of rock! Thanks to ranger Bob Elsinger, who assisted in loading his Preserve tuck and hauling them to the destination. Eight times. The pickup had a load limit of one ton before the bed began to bottom out, and so back and forth we went. This constituted about 3 1/2 to 4 hours of steady work.

So - If weather permits, and enough volunteers arrive, we will begin placing these rocks on Sunday. This is going to be hard labor, and strong people are needed to do the job. If you've been wondering about how you can give back in a place that has given you so much, this might be your opportunity! We meet atop the Steel Bridge at 9am.

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Photography Tip - Comfort at Ground Level

If you get out there enough, there are surely going to be days you won't be climbing; rest days, weather distress days, partner bailed days and so on.

Laying around isn't really the most attractive option for me; I like to get out and take a hike most often. If I am alone, or it's just me and Teddy, all the better. Then I can get out my camera and go shooting.

Last Saturday was one of those days. I can't really be too mad at my partner for bailing. It was a last minute arrangement and truthfully, he cancelled before even making a firm commitment(though it was implied). Still, when I woke up the morning we were to climb and saw fog like one expects in an English murder mystery wafting outside my tent - accompanied by a soggy wet 80 degrees temperature - I was grateful at least SOMEONE had had some sense...

The rock was visibly perspiring - heavily - to the point of dripping crimps. Even the chalked sections were water-logged. I like climbing, and am not adverse to getting out in inclimate weather, but this was pretty bad, especially considering my partner was someone I'd not yet met, much less climbed with....

And so, it was with relief that I pulled gear from my pack and replaced it with photography gear. A foggy morning is a good one, for the shutterbug.

Apparently, there were those not intimidated by the conditions, like these two, geared up and ready to go.


It was for sure a good time to take a romantic walk with your lover, and these people(not the same as from above) looked to be taking full advantage.


But I was on my own. Even Teddy was still dozing in the tent when I went out for the day's first pee and grabbed my camera.

Later in the morning, I headed over to the Uberfall with the hopes of NOT finding a partner, for once. I knew the day was going to be a tough one, and the last thing I wanted was to be tethered to a stranger, to be honest. I gave it about 15 minutes at most, before opting for a walking tour instead.

I got in a good number of pictures that day, but haven't gone through the files yet. I'm not a very good shot, to be honest, and so there's a lot of chaff to separate.

However, I did come up with one thing I wanted to share; something that I'd thought of the last time I was out in a fog, actually. And so, the purpose of this post - to pass the idea along.

If you like to shoot, you might also like getting close to your subject - the macro shot. For me, it's one of my favorites, next to shooting landscapes and climbing action shots. And Teddy portraits. Of course.

Shooting macro - one thing I have found for myself is that often my shots are down low, extremely close to the ground. Where it's muddy. Or pebbly. Or some other condition that makes you take pause....

But to get that perspective, nature and it's more diminutive state, you've got to get down and place yourself at a Liliputian's eye level. Hence - my suggestion....

I have taken to bringing my sleeping pad along when I go out shooting and I know it'll be a low-down day.

What an amazing difference it makes, to lay down that pad before getting down in the dirt. I have two pads, actually, because I have my dog. I leave the inflatable one in the tent, of course. The one I use for a photo crashpad is one of those Thermarests that folds accordian-style; it's called the z-lite. I like it because the eggshell pattern does mean less contact with the ground. Because of the pleated design, it stows to a small size, about 6 x 18 inches or so. Also, you can fold it to half-size, into thirds, or use the full length. If your subject is surrounded by beautiful plants, you can set down just a small section of pad. Which brings me to the next point.

Be careful about placing the thing, of course. Think like a conscientious boulderer, and take care not to damage delicate foliage. Once you lay down the pad, you'll be on top of it, making creeping adjustments to get the best angles. Your body will be placing pressure points in contact with the ground, and the movements you make in repositioning yourself will pull at the plants and earth underneath. Tread lightly!

The padded layer makes me so much more likely to get down there and really try for a good shot. Kneeling on gravel is a masochistic exercise of the past. I don't have to worry about wet mud soaking through my clothes on a chilly day, and when I get flat on my side or stomach - which is where the action's really at.... I can make the most minute adjustments without feeling the pain(of sharp twigs in my ribs, for instance).

Here's a shot I got, using my pad for a base layer. These funghi were alongside the Old Minnewaska Road on the Mohonk Preserve. They are probably about five inches at the tallest, and so I was flat against the ground for my shot, with my elbow propping me up a bit.


I wanted a viewpoint from slightly above to catch their dappled tops, but also to include their stems in the shot. The grouping of four presented many attractive angles to shoot from, spanning an arc of about 90 degrees. I took shots from several angles. Had I not had that soft pillow to lay against, I am sure I'd have taken but one or two, and might have even settled for shooting from the unstable crouched postion. (I haven't got the patience, unfortunately, for becoming adept at using a tripod).

So - if you like to shoot nature at a macro level, and also find yourself resisting going to the lenght(or depth) needed to get the shot - try using a pad next time you're out there!

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Glamping: Outside Magazine, Whose Side Are You On?

The first time I heard the term "glamping" it was from some online news
source like this one. The article seemed to be promoting high-end guiding services that had discovered a niche market based on what might be referred to as "Everest Angst," wherein the biggest, best, most highly coveted goals can be earned simply through the swiping of a credit card.

It seems that commercial advertising has so focused on outdoors recreation as an exciting way to market products - everything from clothing to cars - that people actually have begun to believe the boring old Jones' next door have gotten out of Indiana and are headed straight for an adventure in the Temple of Doom.

Not wanting to be left behind, they jumped in their old cars and headed right out to get that gas-guzzling SUV, and those high-tech clothes designed for temperature extremes, just KNOWING they’d soon be out livin’ the life; cruising through desert dunes, splashing across rocky rivers, sliding down tree-filled snow slopes and parking atop crested buttes. Preferably all in the same day.

These people had the cash to go out and grab that adventure and dammit, that’s exactly what the marketers intended for them to think about doing. But then…reality hit. And though those cars, or trucks, or vans or whatever they are’s, all come with GPS, and the technical gear comes with hangtags detailing the finer points of each item, they don’t come with the faculty to know "what’s next" once one gets wherever it is they’re dead set on getting to.

Enter – the glamour-camping guided service, selling gentle hikes that will be touted as 'strenuous.' With back-country settings that…conveniently…have access roads to minimize approach times, enabling clients to get to the heart of their getaway more readily. And double occupancy tents that could hold twenty people if they were sleeping in bags, on pads, and not in king-sized four-poster beds piled high with down bedding and fluffy pillows. The packages seem to focus on comfort in the way of sleeping and eating, with beautiful scenery as a backdrop. For three, four and more times the cost the same guide service can charge for the same trip sans the luxury goods.


Whatever…

I didn’t give much thought to the thing, except that I knew we’d probably get to hear the occasional funny story n the online forums, from those of us who’d run into this "species" when we were out there.

But then someone lent me a recent issue of Outside magazine, which had a story about the debauchery that is Everest’s base camp, and another on the new phenomenon of glamping. That changed things. Conveniently, the story’s also in their website here, and if you care to take a gander, it is a read worth taking, if you have concerns about land stewardship and access issues.

As a marketing niche to keep guide services afloat, I haven’t really got quarrels with this attempt at creating a trend in luxe al fresco living. But “Outside” doesn’t cater to the uptown crowd. I am fairly certain their demographic is the urban male, mid twenties through early thirties, based on the style and content of the publication. They don’t seem overly concerned with writing about things from a woman’s perspective in many cases, although this glamping story actually could be seen as "something for the girls" (well, at least for some city girls who might want to try on a modified outdoors experience).

Now, it should be noted that the same issue of the magazine DID have one or two small blurbs about locations that would have catered to the luxury camping crowds, but chose not to link the glamping term with those places. Spin, I suppose. Outside knows their reader isn’t spending $1000 plus on a weekend getaway. But glamping is a buzzword they must have wanted – well, needed - to explore, if they were not to be left in their competitors dust. (Oh, the trials of being a magazine editor…). So….why not create a working person’s version of the fad?

Why not, indeed!

As if you hadn’t seen this coming…. Here’s my opinion as to "Why not?"

The version of the trend that Outside exemplifies amounts to no more than suggesting a bunch of drunk twenty-somethings head out for a weekend of partying, with no regard to the effect this will have on neighboring campsite visitors, natural resources or access issues.

Young people already grab a case (or three) of beer and a tent and have at it, as anyone who’s ever camped at a KOA, State or National Park site knows. It’s a rite of passage that some of us never quite seem to grow out of. On any long-weekend holiday it’s almost a given that your campsite neighbor on at least one border will consist of a group of fifty year-olds, drinking away time and sleeping off the daylight.

But at least people opt for some sense of stealth in this pursuit. They may get rowdy and annoying, but they usually have some semblance of an understanding that it isn’t quite right to be loud and falling-down drunk till the sun comes up.

The "Outside" article goes above and beyond the call of responsible outdoor rec journalism in touting the idea that this type of revelry is…cool.

Not only that, but peruse any climbing forum out there and you’ll see threads dedicated to activism in keeping access for campsites across the country. Closures are constantly a threat due to things like trash being abandoned. The pendulum swings the other way too, with user fees increasing faster than inflation in order to provide “services” like flush toilets, showers and paved drives. In the former instance, I can’t help but find it…difficult… to believe the glamorous glamper is going to pack up their empty beer cans, wine bottles, disposable…everything…and those fancy sombreros and tent decorations so necessary to provide the right "ambiance."

In the latter instance – it’s NOT the person truly interested in getting into nature who desires those modern conveniences. Most people who spend more than a few weekends a year on the road DON’T want to see campsite fees competing with gasoline for the title of “Largest Expense of the Trip.” They’re more than happy to squat over an outhouse pot or dispose of their poop al fresco. If a body begins to reek, they have highly enough developed route-finding skills to locate water. For these folks, taking a shower within walking-distance of a campsite is tantamount to being a gym climber.

Here’s a photo I took a few years ago which, to me, is a fair example of what one could anticipate with an increase in glamour-camping.



This porta-potty is one of the few amenities offered at the Multiple Use Area in Gardiner, NY. It is one of two free camping areas near the Gunks. The other niceties include a driveway/parking area that in a great place to test the suspension and clearance of your vehicle, and….well, I guess that’s the only other convenience, actually.

There’s no running water, no picnic tables, no designated parking spot per site, and no trash receptacles. There IS a small bulletin board, which states the guidelines for use; one of which is that – what you bring in, you need to take along when you leave.

Most weekends someone will leave SOME trash they shouldn’t have, simply out of laziness. Bottles and cans can be recycled a half mile down the road at the little store where the items may very well have been purchased in the first place. Rock & Snow has provided access to their trash cans for me when requested, and it doesn’t take too much for brains to come up with a plan for disposal utilizing one of the chain store drive-through trash cans on your way back to the highway….

Somehow, I just can’t imagine someone so “fabulous” that they think a smattering of glitter and confetti would be a great way to spark up the drab dirt of a campsite’s ground having the consideration to do anything more with their garbage than what is shown in this picture above (which was a fluke even for the MUA, which has a history of drunken revelers anyway).

The United States is NOT Europe, where this low-budget idea seems to have originated. We have incredibly powerful government lobbies jumping at any chance available to close down our recreational areas. Developers chomp at the bit when even the slightest whiff of an “eau du natural” bit of land appearring precariously protected wafts past their noses. The LAST thing we need is a stupid trend weakening links in the chain that safeguards what public lands we still do have available.

Please don’t promote the idea of glamping. If you hear talk of the idea at the company watercooler, be the first to offer a “helpful” dose of beta, emphasizing aspects of outdoor living such as…Oh, such as big spiders that seem to invade even the tightest zipped tent entrances, 10pm quiet hours, smelly outhouses and the like…

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HitchHiking and the Mohonk Mountain House

Getting from New Paltz to the cliffs with no car is very easy. I have heard others - men, big and apparently able to fend for themselves men - say they just take a taxi from the bus station. I tried that. Once. It's a long story. Let's just say that I won't be doing that again.

Instead, I hitchhike. Getting off the bus, I hightail it down Main Street to the stretch of curb in front of The Gilded Otter. This is a good spot for thumbing it, because it allows oncoming drivers a distance of space in order to process the information they are receiving, which would be: Hitch-Hiker, female, backpack, climber. Minimal brain activity required to surmise that I am probably not dangerous; just looking to get out to the Gunks and go climbing.

If they have quick reflexes, and decide to stop where I stand, it is a section of the road that allows them to do so without being rear-ended by an unobservant driver in a following car. If they are smart, and decide to pass me and turn the corner a few feet ahead, they can stop and not concern themselves with unsafe driving practices at all. I'll simply run down to the corner, throw my gear in the back and hop in. Then we'll turn around and be on our way.

The reason I rush to this spot is because sometimes there is another person on the bus heading to the cliffs who has gotten their partner to pick them up at the bus station. They might have room for me, and I want to be in place when they drive by.

You might think "Why not look around at the bus station and ask for that ride?" I will tell you why not. Because more often than not, they won't have room for another rider and their gear. or they will be wanting to stop at Rock and Snow, and then at the grocery store for power bars and water. And then at the Mountain Deli for breakfast. Like the time with the taxi; I did that once. Another long story, which gained me the revelation that it is often a big waste of time and energy to tackle the project with that plan.

Anyway..... This past Sunday was like any other hitch-hike day and I got a ride directly to the cliffs within a few cars passing. New Paltz is one of the few cities in New York state, I am assuming, where it is still relatively safe for a woman to put herself in the hands of a stranger on the road. The place is special that way.

On Sundays, I volunteer on the trail crew. We have a small group that works steadily, during season, to reinforce eroding sections of the cliff side trails, improve areas that are difficult to manage when evacuating an injured person laid out in a litter, and maintain the thing in general. It's my pleasure to do so, and I look forward to the day each week. There are long stretches of the trail that I helped fix up, and the work will endure for years. That's a very satisfying thing, to me, and one of the few ways I have to give back to the climbing community that has given me so much.

But this Sunday, we didn't have much help. Just myself and the crew leader. Our current project involves rock collecting and though the old saying goes "Three's a crowd," that's certainly not true in this case. The rocks we are looking for are more aptly called boulders, at least by the layman. A
boulderer would call them "bad landings" if they happened to be under what THEY consider a boulder.... The rocks we want weigh between 100 and 1000 pounds and range in size comparison to basketballs, microwave ovens and dorm-room style refrigerators. They aren't moved by one person hoisting them, but with rock bars and grip hoists

So - with just the two of us, no work could be done. Disappointed, I headed to the Uberfall, which is to the Shawangunks climbing community what the barbershop was to Mayberry, R.F.D., in the hopes of picking up an impromptu climbing partner.

Now, I have never been successful in doing this, and unlike the taxi game, I still haven't learned it's a waste of my time. Maybe it's because so many other people have success in finding partners that way; I know that it works. At least for some people....

It's just a paradox that I can stick my thumb out on a state highway and ask a ride of someone I can't even really see, but am unable to do the same on a more personal level. I get uncomfortable, sulky and introverted. I pull out a book and burry my nose in it, hoping "the perfect partner" will stop, and ask me to climb with him. (Yes, it's a him. Tall, smart, long, curly hai....Ummm... Well at least someone with plenty of experience.).

The truth is that I am not good at saying no, and when it comes to life/death situations, which climbing entails, one had better be prepared to do so. I have heard way too many stories of people roping up and finding themselves in serious trouble because they didn't vet heir partner beforehand, and found themselves climbing with someone who had misrepresented their abilities, whether intentionally or through naivety.

Combine that with some of the assinine scenes I have witnessed being enacted by FWDKTDKS (Folks Who Don't Know They Don't Know S***)...and I get a little...scared.... just roping up on the spot with just anyone. While I have climbed blind with well over a hundred people over the last few years, and had great days of it, I DO vet heavily beforehand. Someday I'll write a post about that experience.

I pride myself in an ability to stay safe. That's another story in itself; this one's supposed to about the Mohonk Mountain House and hitching a ride. So - let's get on to the Mountain House....

After a weak attempt at searching for a partner, I decided I'd hike over to the Mountain House. Because I usually have my dog, Teddy, with me, and dogs aren't allowed on MH property this was a good day to do it. By the way, if you are not familiar with the Shawangunk ridge and the Mohonk Mountain House, it's an interesting story.

I knew the Undercliff Road eventually led there, and was fairly certain it would be easy to figure out. The carriage roads, paved with shale and well-maintained, are hiked every weekend by families. I have only once seen someone in duress while doing so, and that was a man who called a gentle incline of less than 5 degrees "a hill." And, I've never heard an horror stories of anyone being lost overnight out in the wilderness of the Mohonk Preserve. The walk would be cake for me, and though I was a little concerned I'd be bored(it IS a flat road-like trail, after all....), I cheered myself up with thought of being able to take photos along the way.

That lasted about two seconds, before I realized I'd passed up the opportunity to restock in double A batteries for my camera. It's an energy hog, and I knew I would be lucky if I had enough power for a day's shoot. Berating myself for neglecting the item(for it had occurred to me to restock at home and then again when I got off the bus that morning), I had to stop myself from stepping into the quicksand of self-pity.

Soon enough I came along a bit of greenery that was photo-worthy and unpacked my camera with intrepidation. I knew what I would find, and was not surprised when the thing would barely power up. The half-press to fix the focus shut the thing down. "No photos for you" I heard, in the chiding voice of Soup Nazi from the Seinfeld series.

Again, I knew it would be a bad thing to allow myself to wallow. Oh - I had ammunition all right. I had no man, nor a climbing partner, nor even my dog for company. I wasn't going to be getting the heavy duty workout that a day on the trail crew brings; an exhaustion that is surprisingly satisfying, in a sort of masochistic way. I didn't even have use of my (sniff, sniff, dab away the tears) crappy little, barely beyond a point and shoot, FujiFilm camera..... I would have to be - oh no! - comfortable in my own skin, staying in the present. Laugh if you will -but when was the last time YOU really did that? I don't even OWN an Ipod, and use my cel phone only for the most basic communication; can you say the same? Hmmmm?

Well - it was what it was, and what it was, was a walk along the carriage road at the Trapps, listening to people yell climbing signals, as I trudged my day's destiny....

Of course, one can't really have a bad day out at there, or at least I can't. Before long I was happy in my thoughts, looking at pretty plants and noticing other small details of nature. Just before I hit the trail I usually take for Sleepy Hollow, I noticed a big boulder(climbing-sized) that looked pret-ty sweet. With an impromptu access trail barely discernable. Definitely not an *approved* trail, but one that was a hella lot easier to walk on than the one that had been put in officially. With just a tinge of guilt, I took it.

In my defense, I made absolute certain of my footwork, stepping on rocks wherever possible. I went out of my way to tread open ground when no rock was available, and avoided delicate mosses at all cost. well - except to gaze at their beauty. Sleepy Hollow is quite wonderful, in it's heavy mantle of furry moss. If you are reading this, and are wont to go "off-road," please try to at least do the same. The difference between traveled areas and the places one doesn't go, when it comes to nature, are actually pretty astounding. It takes surprisingly little traffic to maim fragile growth, and the half-life for destruction is a long one. Recovery, when possible, takes a timeline measured in generations.

The boulder, by the way, was a good one. Local boulderers know which one I'm speaking of, of course. Already chalked up extensively, I still noted several virgin paths of least existence. Lines I would never follow, simply because I didn't have the skill, but also because I was traveling alone and couldn't risk making one of those "bad landings."

That was good for a bit of time and soon I was back on the road, headed for the Mountain House. I figured I would do a rock scramble I had heard of along the way, called the Giant's Workshop. The walk was pleasant and, with just a few people passing by on bicycles, I was pretty much in solitude the whole while. At one point, I came to an intersection of paths (at Rhododendron Bridge) and decided to follow the Laurel Ledge Road.

Rounding a corner, I came to a very small cliffband right along the way, which reminded me of a mini Uberfall area, and shortly thereafter, a deer in the woods caught my eye.

Upset with myself about the situation with my low-energy camera, I slowly and quietly unpacked, hoping to try for a picture or two. She was happily grazing, but became aware of my presence immediately. I was able to get a few shots off, but wished for a better vantage point. She was further away that I'd liked and there were downed branches and trees hindering the sight line, being the woods and all.... However, I knew stepping so much as one foot off the road and into the wooded area would scare the deer off. She looked so content, laying down and munching greenery that I knew it would be incredibly rude to invade the territory in even the smallest way.



Not much further along, I came to a side road, The Old Minnewaska Road. To the west, this comes out to a bridge running over the Coxing Kill, and Split Rock swimming hole, a nice little summer laze-about spot that can be quite the local scene on a hot summer weekend day. It was interesting to put another disjointed piece of my Mohonk Preserve topographical puzzle in place.

This part of Laurel Ledge Road was fairly picturesque, carriage road-wise, and is a trip that would be incredibly beautiful in autumn with the foliage color change.

To the right, soon came a marker for the Giant's Path, which I assumed led through the Giant's Workshop. I took it, and soon enough found myself in that scramble.

For some reason, I had assumed this area was going to be a much larger maze to meander, but was not disappointed. The 'trail' through the thing is, in my opinion, not as clearly marked as it might be. I am a chicken, frankly, but considering that people who may not be aware of just how deadly a fall onto rock can be, the level of 'think for yourself' that folks are left to surprised me.

At one point, I misread the marking and headed in a way I thought would be a natural route. "Holy crap!" I thought, removing my pack to get through a tight spot. "This is a pretty big move for a novice to make, and a fall would definitely have potential for a broken ankle." Not the brightest start in the galaxy at times, I continued....

An easy step or two and the route I was on led through a slim vertical shaft toward daylight. I moved ahead...and looked down. "Holy crap!" I thought. "Sure, you can sort of shimmy/chimney through here, but the foothold is friggin' thin! Miss it and you are going down for a while, until you wedge into a constriction!" Knowing that families bring young children out to scamper in this thing, I was....beginning to think I may be off-route.

Still....I proceeded. The route WAS there, after all. I saw it clearly. I moved through that fissure and out towards the corner. The point of no return was one step ahead, and at least I had the sense not to blindly go forward. Stretching as far as I could, I saw that - yes - one could work their way to the outside. It was 4th class climbing though, and that was just the next few moves. Once past the corner, I'd be on a rock wall, and at least twenty feet above the ground, into 5th class range.

"This ....must not be right." I told myself, and headed back. Reversing the "big" move mentioned earlier wasn't difficult (again, for someone who has climbing skills) but still....

Looking at the trail blazes again, I realized that the person who had marked it used a symbol that hikers know as "turn this way" more as if it were an arrow, with the center pointing the way. I guess that was the crux.... At any rate, the "correct" way was.....just a little easier than how I had almost gone.

Coming out the top, one gets a very nice panorama of the valley below and the Trapps, Near Trapps and Millbrook ridges off to the southwest. And, a choice of several routes going forward. Being that I wanted to get to the Mountain House, I chose the one that said...."To Mountain House"....and had a nice little walk though, again, the trail was not well marked. It's just obviously been a while since someone's been through to touch up the blazes and though I suppose it's difficult to get lost out there, I wondered why the maintenance hadn't been done. (Probably for the same reason I was out there that day, instead of doing the trail work I'd intended; a lack of volunteer help!).

At any rate, in not to long a period, I came to more choices in my path, by way of carriage road. I couldn't help but be impressed, knowing as I do, that all these carriage roads were created in the late-nineteenth/early-twentieth centuries, and the work was done with manual labor using hand tools.

Headed in a northwest direction along the outer edge of a highpoint in the topography, I came across a pretty wooden pagoda, one of many that I knew had been put in place by the Smiley family, owners of the Mountain House, for the pleasure their hotel guests out enjoying their nature walk. Thinking back to what it must have been like, to be a young woman in corset and long dress along on this road, I can imagine it must have felt like quite the workout. Thinking back even further, hundreds of years before the slate roads and wooden scenic lookouts, to what it might have been like to be one of the area's original human inhabitants.... I couldn't help wondering how romantic it all must have been.



Eventually, I came to a clearing and saw that I was coming to the Mountain House grounds proper. A baseball/soccer field led way to tennis courts and soon enough I was...in a different world, and feeling a bit like a dirtbag, with my casual clothes, disheveled hair and huge, seen-a-bit-of-backcountry backpack, and my climbing shoes and camera bag dangling from daisy loops. Casual attire by way of being a Mohonk Mountain House guest is just a wee bit different than the casual attire I had on.

But! I knew there was a gift shop. And that meant I could replace my camera batteries and try for some photos of the place. Boy....did I feel weird, walking past the valet parking, moving off the road for fancy cars. I knew that, as a preserve member, I was allowed access to the grounds, but it sure didn't feel right. I kept expecting a butler in tuxedo to appear at my side, nose tilted to the sky as if I had BO, affecting that tone and asking "May we help you?"

No butler that I could see, though there were plenty of young, attractive guys in green polo shirts, the uniform of the hotel. Plenty! Almost an equal ratio to the guests, it seemed....

I can steel myself as well as anyone, and though I definitely felt out of place, I emboldened myself and stopped one of these guys to ask about getting batteries for my camera. I didn't think I would be "allowed" in the hotel, but thought maybe there'd be "some way" I could get those batteries. I'm not sure if I was supposed to be given carte blanche, and maybe I caught him guard but he directed me to the main entrance and gave directions as to where I'd find the gift shop.

The entryway was a zoo. Busy with arriving and departing guests, I felt like the obvious interloper at the wedding, or a salmon swimming upstream, instinctively needing to do so in order to carry on. Walking through the maelstrom as if I belonged there - as if I were, in fact, a paying guest and gawd help me but I was just that cool, not deigning to wear fashionable designer dungarees....

The hotel is...beautiful, and after I got my batteries, I headed out the back, where I understood Lake Mohonk resided. Just before exiting, I found a wonderful old Stickley settee. I touched it. How could I not!? I really love Stickley and though the pieces I have in my apartment are recently produced reproductions, there ARE Stickley, and have been made to the same standards as this antique; of radiant quarter-sawn oak. And I felt the energy, from the hands that crafted the piece in the first place to the years and years that piece has been standing, like an old tree in the forest, having seen it all and stood by, quietly.

Mohonk Lake is indeed very pretty, but I have to say - I did not really like the feeling I got, standing on the back porch of that hotel. I hadn't gone unnoticed, and though I generally don't really look at people, I DO glean sensation. It's a trait I've had all my life. It's not very helpful when running into people throughout my travels, since I rarely recognize faces or remember names. Such a problem it is, since I am apparently known by an awful lot of people, that I have no option but to be honest and let people know this is something that's "wrong with me;" I simply do not recognize people I have met before, nine times out of ten.

But I get their drift all right. And the drift I got at that time was one of riff-raff, myself being the cause of the rift. There were all these....lazy...I'm sorry but that's how it felt....wealthy men sitting in rocking chairs, impatiently waiting for...something. Looking at me as I walked by, and wondering to themselves - in a Thurston Howell the Third voice - on earth I was doing there. I got away from there as soon as I could!

I had decided to go walk along the lake, figuring that, though I definitely was no supposed to be in the hotel itself, there would probably be plenty of other preserve members and day use visitors on the grounds. Well....I can't say whether that was the case or not, but it wasn't so bad.

Well...it sort of was, actually. I came to a path that led to the famed "rock scramble." Deciding to take it I started down the path only to be quickly overtaken by families and young couples, moving like cars on the expressway upset that the little old lady(me) was driving too slow and in their lane. I had to "pull over" and let them pass, or feel their irritation as they impatiently tail-gated.

Almost immediately, a mom, dad and two young boys zoomed past. The youngest boy became frightened when he had to step over a crevasse. Not knowing how bad it was, I could see he was definitely scared and felt sorry for him. He cried and balked all the while she pulled and finally launched him over the thing and finished him off with a belittling remark. wow....

Now, I got lucky, because while I had pulled back to let this family get past and gain some space, I had taken time to look around. And you know what I saw? I mean besides several plastic drink cups, soda bottles, and food wrappers stuffed in the crannies between the rocks....

I saw - a porcupine!

Yes, I did. He was, believe it or not, coming out of what was probably his den, right there at the start of that rock scramble.



The little buy ahead was still crying, now with shame as much as the residual affects of being scared silly and I thought. "Hey! I them about the porcupine, and that will break the negative feeling! Nobody expects to see a porcupine, certainly not...here... and the kid will be amazed!"

Well....not quite.

No response/reaction whatsoever from the two boys, but the mother crisply said "Unfortunately we can't make our way back there to see it." Only what she meant was "And why is it, may I ask, that you are speaking to us?"

Oh.....

Well, I decided to let them have a LOT of space. And so I stood waiting for the porc to come out and let me see him, and sit for a portrait. He did rollover onto his haunches and give his belly a good scratching - long claws, I'll say! - but he realized that I was probably going to be stupid and tell everyone I saw that he was down there and point him out, and then he'd probably get poked at with sticks and have his day messed with. So...he stuck it out, and waited until I admitted defeat and moved on....

Within short order, another set of people came up from behind and overtook me. Now - this rock is polished. I'd much rather have been scrambling over talus at the base of the cliffs than this stuff; it's got a strange smoothness in places and though it's easy stuff, the mix of smoothness, trash litter and impatient scramblers was a little disheartening. I didn't like it at all. At one point two people went ahead of me and stood in an opening. I could hear they were talking to others in their group, who had taken a different path, and were waiting for them to catch up. Since I could see them coming, I waited, and decided to let them go as a group rather than try to get ahead or go in between.

This, apparently, upset someone who came up behind me, who nearly pushed me out of the way while asking "Are you going?" wow.....

The rest of the scramble was pretty much the same, unfortunately, though it's probably much less icky on a weekday or in a less busy time of year.

Once out of the scramble, its a shale-graded path rising up a hill to the top, where the Alfred Smiley Memorial stands. People seemed much nicer up there.

There are some very nice views from Skytop, like the rockface of Lake Mohonk.



And the memorial is a nice piece of craftsmanship too. Here is the iron gate at the front entrance.



On the way down(Nooo...I didn't take the scenic way down. I walked the road, thank you.) there are pretty vistas, with stopping spots and those nice wood pagodas. Some give way to views of the majestic old hotel.


As pretty as it is, I can't believe they have this ugly dock running through the lake. But I guess they have to be able to accommodate the leisure traffic, and a rustic smaller dock wouldn't be able to handle the load.


Getting back to ground level, I realized that my day had been burning along fairly well, and it was probably past the time I should have started to make my way back to New Paltz. I had....wrongly...figured I'd simply get a ride back to town in much the way I do from the cliffs. That is - to go to the parking area, and ask people heading to their cars if they had room for me and my gear. I had dawned on me - sometime between walking in the back door of this resort and that moment - that my plan was flawed.... Little did I know just how badly.

I had wanted to walk the cliffbase of Skytop, and get a look at the fantastic climbing routes. But I was tired; I have no idea how far I'd walked, but had been pretty much going nonstop since 10am, and by my guess it was at least 3:00 at the time. As well, the sky was darkening as rain clouds began brewing.

Uh oh....

I decided to save Skytop(the real Skytop - the rock climbing!) for another day, when I was fresher, and make my way toward the parking area. I was worried about the ride situation; I could simply not imagine the reactions I was going to be getting from these people when I asked if I could hop in....

And so, I headed in the direction I knew was the exit. Along the way, I passed a section of formal garden, filled with pretty flowers. I took but one photo, probably because, as I said earlier, I was becoming tired.



On the road to the exit, there is a truly magnificent old tree. It's not a Weeping Willow, but it has a similar sweeping mass of tendril branches. Up close, he tree is fantastic - an ancient, windy limbed beauty. Just spectacular. The hotel has placed a rather large and obvious sign asking to respect the tree's age and beauty, and to please not climb on it or carve it. Nonetheless, the limbs are scarred with cutwork initials.

So...I headed out, and off what I thought was the hotel grounds. I believed I was heading down a drive that would shortly lead to the road leading back to New Paltz.


Wrong.

Oh, and when I am wrong, I am wrong.....

I had not known that the hotel had a two-miles plus long driveway. I had been to the gatehouse entrance a few times in the past, only to find out the parking lot was full, or they wouldn't allow me in because I had a dog. I had simply assumed at the time that the hotel was just down the road, well camouflaged behind a heavy bank of trees. Suddenly I understood why I had seen several short-busses with "Mohonk Mountain House" emblazoned on the side......

Uh oh.

I knew, I just knew, that it would be bad to put my thumb out on the resort driveway. Disrespectful, and.... just bad. And so, I committed to the walk, thinking perhaps someone might see my pack and recognize me as a hiker, take pity and offer me a lift.

Then I came to a sign that said walkers MUST use a side path to get to the gatehouse, 2.3 miles down the road. The good news, the sign promised, was that the path was a half mile shorter than the road.....

Even if I had wanted to disobey the rule, the road really was too thin to walk along. There was absolutely no shoulder, and it was not a lazy country road. It was one way and winding, with cars winging around the curves every few seconds.

Oh, crap.

I had no choice.

Eventually I came to what I thought was the road..... I put my thumb out and each car stopped, only to say that no - they weren't headed to New Paltz, and unfortunately could not give me a ride. I had been wondering why the road seemed....thinner...than I had remembered it, since I'd driven it a few times last year when I had a car. But, as I said earlier ...sometimes I'm not so bright.

This road didn't have much of a shoulder either, and it was sort of scary. I had to go quite off into the woods edge in order to be safe and not frighten the drivers; I didn't want to upset them - it really was a thin pathway.... and I didn't thumb it if the road wasn't clear enough that I felt the car could stop without being in danger of traffic coming up behind.

Finally, another car stopped and strangely, they didn't roll down the window for me to query about a lift. Well - I was about out of steam. It was obviously going to rain at some point, I was worried about getting back to own, and had realized - some of these people...were not nice. At all. This was NOT the same as hitching a ride to the cliffs. These were not climbers and hikers and locals of the area, used to quirky climbing bums. At all.

So, I shouted through the window. And at the same time, I noticed the lady passenger was speed-dialing something on her cell phone. "Oh christ" I thought..."Do I REALLY look like an axe murderer?"

The man let the window down a crack, and I repeated my request. As if I were a moron (well...if the show fits, now that I think about it), he said "This road goes to the hotel."

Oh. Crap.

When I came off the walking path, I had mistakenly thought I'd hit the road, when it was actually the entry drive into the hotel. Now wonder it seemed like a one-laner..... It WAS!

The driver cheerfully told me that the road wasn't far back, really.....

I DID remember to thank them, by the way.


And so....I walked. It wasn't that far. Not really. Probably 10 or 15 more minutes. But then the fun really started.

If you know that road, you are aware that it is a very winding one, with lots of blinds sections and curves around steep embankments with guardrails set very close to the roadway.

Not a good place to be walking, much less hitching a ride. Especially from wealthy patrons to an exclusive resort hotel.

I walked for half an hour, listening very carefully for oncoming traffic. It wasn't their fault I had been stupid, and I intended to be considerate. If the road was not a clear enough stretch fro them to safely slow and stop, I would step well off to the side and not signal for a lift. In the instances where I could thumb, not a one of those expensive cars so much as slowed down even the slightest.

Thinking I was screwed, and wondering how many hours walk it would be back to New Paltz, I tried to make the best of it, while hoping I was forecasting wrongly in thinking rain was less than an hour away.

FINALLY a car stopped. Oh my god, was I relieved. It was a man who worked at the Mountain House, on his way to New Paltz for another shift at a second job.

And thus ends my little Sunday trip report.....

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Found: The Orion Society

A while back I was passing by my neighborhood Free Books Library. Now - this is not a branch of the public library that probably comes to your mind. This is an impromtu offering of books and magazines that sponatenously appears on the stoop of an Upper West Side residence(West 88th, between Amsterdam and Columbus, on the south side, more precisely).

It seems that the owner of the building, a brick rowhouse, allows another person(who manages a thrift store)to place books there so he can reduce the excess number of donations he receives at the shop. He simply gets so many books that he's unable to moove them through the store. So, he puts out a selection of ten to twenty books on this stoop every week or so.

Being an unstopable reader, I take advantage. The books are often old classics but sometimes they're lesser titles; things I'd never pay for, even at a used book store. But put them out for free and suddenly the Howard Stern and Monica Lewinsky biographies(both of which I found there) are worth taking a look at. I've also found The Nanny Diaries from these stacks(okay, I admit...and I took and read it). There have been how-to's on subjects like basketmaking and photography, wordy, weighty "what's wrong with the government" best-sellers, and historical accounts of various cultures around the world. Also paperback editions of good old reads - Mark Twain, Collete, Hemingway and many other wonderful pieces of literature; there is usually good stuff, left for the taking.

Back to where I started..... A few weeks ago, as I rounded the corner and noticed....books! I hurried my pace. Because I was currently without a lover(yes....I am a booklover; there are many worse things one could be), and here I was, about to entertain multiple options. I wanted first pick before some stranger swooped in and snapped up my first choice....

My eyes scanned the selection quickly, and landed on a slim magazine, obviously an arty publication. The cover featured a beautiful photo of a snow owl of some sort. My mother had saved a baby owl once(well....saved him for a few days; people didn't know to call animal sanctuaries back in the 60's. At least farm people from Wisconsin didn't). I have been enthralled by owls ever since I spent those days with little Hoot.

Noticing there were several issues of the publication, each with a cover more intriging than the last, I found myself in a quandary. Not wanting to miss out on something potentially very good, I als didn't want to be a hog and take the entire bunch if, upon later inspection, I found myself uninterested after all.

Then, a headline on one of the issues - "Edward Abbey ~ The Unpublished Letters" - caught my attention. I had heard of this guy, and I wanted to know more! So, I decided to choose that issue from the group, take a gander, and then decide whether to take or leave the rest.

Walking down the street and thumbing through the pages, I quickly realized that I had stumbled across something very good. The magazine was put out by a group called the Orion Society and it was fabulaous reading, on subjects galore. Big news, for a person interested in the natural world around themselves. I can see how a "be a jerk/go to work/get a job and do it right/life's a ball/tv tonight" sort of drone would be bored....(That's reference to a Frank Zappa song, by the way)...but you wouldn't be here, right now, if you were that sort;I know that.

So - I continue.

Click that last link and see for yourself! You can come back here some other time. This is too important to miss.



Okay....so you've returned(or haven't left like I said to). Did I lie? Of course not! The Orion Society is damned cool, and a wonderful resource populated by interesting writers, artists, experts and educators. It's not propaganda for the masses. They don't tell you what to think but rather ask "What DO you think?"

That bears repeating: WHAT DO YOU THINK? And what's more - What are you going to do about it? The Orion Society isn't going to do it for you; what they do is offer plenty of opportunites - to learn, to ponder, to experience, to act.

In case you stayed here with me, I will give a bit of an idea as to what's in that website, that I feel is important for you to know about.

First - their mission statement: The Orion Society's mission
is to inform, inspire, and engage individuals and grassroots organizations in becoming a significant cultural force for healing nature and community.

Next is the entertainment portion of the program, the magazine, which was what piqued my interest in the first place. Obviously, there is a paper subscription of the thing available, and I think it is well worth the price. But they offer an incredible amount of content right here online. Many of the articles have discussion available to, which alleviates any reason to feel alienated or pandered to. Don't agree? Have further thoughts? Just speak up say so!

The Grassroots Network portion of the site includes a list Jobs and Internships that is a great resource if you're looking to work with a group focused on helping nature deal with human impact.

I could go on....but it seems that the Blogger.com site I publish through is...having some serious issues today. I have written a LOT more about this topic but there seems to be a ghost in the machine. It saves the draft, and then...the saved version disappears, and I am back to a version I had....AN HOUR AGO! What a drag.

So - take my word for it, and please DO check out the links I mentioned. I'll probably come back at another time and mention the items, because I really do feel this is a great resource that has not gotten enough notice.

I Don't Need No More Tent Stakes

The first time I came across a buried-to-the-hilt one in my site, I thought "Sweet! I feel bad for the guy who didn't grab it when he broke camp, but I can always use a spare." And I pocketed the thing.

When I camp in JTree it gets windy, sometimes apocalyptically so, and it's every guy(wire) for himself. Unless you want you to find your tent blown past the wash, saved only by an armored cholla, you'd tether your tent at every point, too.

But back to my story....The next time I found a stake, at the same camp place(Camp Slime in the Gunks), I though "What's wrong with people? ADDH has gotten way out of control...."

This weekend, my favorite spot was taken. So was my second choice. Hopeing there was something behnd Door Number Three, I gazed over, behind the ranger cabin, and saw....emptiness. Lugging my gear through the wooded lot, stepping carefully over the moss growths and jumping a log-come-gate at the entrance of the site, I began to unstuff my tent.

If you've ever been in Slime, you know that finding flat ground is an adventure; the whole place slopes gradually downhill and is actually a talus field glazed with a few millenium's worth of soil. Poke around, just a few inches below ground level, and you come to rocks. (Sung to the tune of the old Armour Hot Dog ditty "Big rocks, little rocks, lots and lots of rocks! Flat rocks, sickening rocks, wish a lifelong pox on rocks....). It's not like you can plane some space; you're pretty much stuck with what is available.

So....I locate "the flat space"(which is actually my prime requirement in a Camp Slime *favorite site*) and lay down the groundcloth. "What's this?" I query, catching a glint of shining silver in the light.. Disappointed, I see it's just another tent stake. But I pull it up anyway. Even though, in the last month alone, I have garnered enough new nails at Slime that I can now come to the aid of my neighbors in a windstorm, there comes a point where weight becomes a consideration..... well, at least if you're taking the alpinist's attitude..... I hate to waste. So I set the stake aside, and will holster it when I stow my tent nail quicker.

Going about my business, I notice more buried stakes. Not just the one. Not even two or three. There is a FULL SET of tent stakes at this site.

It's come to the point where I'm beginning to think there are as many nails in the ground at Slime as there are rocks!

But....back to my story.

I can only imagine how this whole tent's worth of pins came about....Some guy maybe brought his new Big City little cutie along for a weekend in the great outdoors, her first time in the woods(...awwwww). She might have pretended she liked it, and even offered to help with camp life work. But by weekend's demise, she had had enough. Especially after finding out a "day at the incredible Gunks; I'll teach you to climb. It's awesome!" consisted of intermittent scenes of terror(while she went up to clean gear on his routes) and belay slave(as she held the rope for his leads or, more likely, TR hangfests).

And so, when Johnny directed Mai Ling to "pack up the tent, sweetie" as they broke camp....passive-aggressiveness took hold.

That's the only reason I can come up with for someone to leave behind a full set of (brand new, by the way) stakes. Imagining the sweet revenge, as John goes to set up camp next time and finds no way to batten down the hatches, she smiles at him and performs as directed....
.
.
.
.
.Okay...there are plenty of other scenarios. But I am out of time. This is supposed to be just a bit on a "Clean up your litter folks!" campaign.

Camp Slime is a HIGHLY trafficked camp space, and each week I find garbage all overe the place. There's a pair of shit-filled(I assume) sweatpants stuck in the craw of a downed tree's rootball at Happie's(that's me) FAVORITE site(I bring a trash bag with me and will remove them, next time I get that spot(disgust). There are
always beer caps and cig butts littering at least one campsite floor.

In my second choice spot, one weekend I found a used tea bag. Gross enough, on it's own. But then, like the family of tent stakes, I saw another. And another and still another. At least 5 used tea bags littered an area less than 20 square feet. The same site, strewn with peanut shells. Like a chain-store bar that used the trash heep as a drawing point. Tea bags and peanut shells aren't going to fully biodegrade in a week, asswipe. Do you think the person who takes the place after you exit wants to deal with your filth?

And then, of course.....There's the toothpaste spit. At the edge of every campsite, lies almost a little white picket fence-like border. I remember the first time I camped with adults and saw someone brush their teeth and spit at camp's edge. It was in JTree, and I nearly threw up. Right there in the desert bushes. (The tooshpaste spit, I mean.) It doesn't rain much in San Bernadino county, and when it does it's not enough to wash away the residue. That toothspaste scree has a half-life of....I dunno? A year, you think?

Here's a tip, and I hope you're not offended if you're a spitter - Use whatever receptacle you will have for camp trash as a spitoon. Brush your teeth and spit into the little bag. Starting with an economic amount of paste, rather than Super-Sizing it, also reduces the factor.

I could go on...but I already have gone on long enough. I have enough tent stakes folks, and I try to limit what trash I make when I camp. Don't need no more pins, and I don't like cleaning up your crap!