It's coming soon...

THIS MORNING, as I emerged from the folded blankets that serve as my bed, I wasn’t cold. Sunbeams through the windows, and I opened the glass. The air wasn’t freezing. That dark, nasty, beautiful cloud that is winter… is going away. We had our times, and they were good: layering and bundling up for walks on those bitter, wind chilled mornings; day after day of overcast skies accompanied by warming coffee and sitting and drawing and reading. Snow flurries and hot chocolate, those were good times. All day, something familiar has been creeping in. My hands didn’t go numb as I hung the laundry out to dry. As the afternoon rolled on, I found myself waking up to absolute paradise. Others found the birds annoying, I found them delightful. There we were, outside for hours, walking to and fro, around and across the open fields bordered by trees and bland buildings of glass and concrete. There we were: throwing… discs! The clouds had parted, the sky was blue all day as sunbeams shone upon us and a chorus of perfect, angelic voices sang, Alleluia, reshaping my entire being into a Smile. A smile brought on, not by common niceties, but by happiness. Sometimes I wish my mood, my sense of euphoria, wasn’t directly proportional to what I perceive as being ideal weather. But I do embrace the dark moods of winter, and when the lightness and warmth of summer returns, I appreciate it that much more. 

So hear ye, those in harsher climates: it’s coming soon. The higher levels of energy, longer stretches of sunlight, blue skies, loquacious birds and wildlife… they’re right around the corner. I saw branches of plants budding like crazy. I touched beloved dandelions. Sure, we’ll have another cold spell or two, but today’s preview wanted me to tell you that it’s gonna be as awesome as it ever was. I just came down from the rooftop. Bright stars surrounded the half moon, and retrieving the laundry didn’t require gloves. The best part… my clothes smell like the beautiful, awakening Outdoors. 

Vermont: 24 hours to love!

Before leaving Bennington VT, I find Willow Park to check out the nine-hole disc golf course.  Nice park, humble course.  Hanging signs on wooden posts act as tees.  On each sign, the original pictures are ‘X’ed out with a marker, and someone has drawn updated diagrams with arrows depicting the paths from tees to baskets, along with proper distances and pars.  Hole #2 reads:  “Basket missing, hit tee sign on hole #3”.  The grass is long and dewy.  Perfect for extremely muddy sandals & feet.  I couldn’t find the tee or basket for hole #5, but the rest of the course was fine.  Nice way to continue the morning.  Vermont has twelve courses.  I think I like Vermont.

I leave Bennington for a northern drive to the center of the state.  Stop at a gas station for fuel & coffee.  There’s a huge counter with at least twelve self-serve carafes of different varieties of coffee, along with a choice of milk or half & half.  It’s a tiny little gas station.  Yummy, Green Mountain Coffee.  I really like Vermont. 

I drive the scenic two-lane route 7 lined with farms and trees.  The road slows down for quaint towns along the way that bear cute houses, stores, restaurants, and inns.  No billboards, no tall neon signs.  No ugly stretches of strip malls and traffic lights. Groups of shops are housed in cute barn-like or house-like complexes that blend in with the quaint towns.  Driving through this state, even through the towns, proves to be a pleasure.  I love Vermont. 

I’m cruising at around 65 mph in a 55 mph zone.  I see a cop driving towards me, opposite direction & immediately slow down.  Lights come on, I think he’s got me.  Keeps going.  Two or three more times that day, I notice cops who don’t notice my speeding.  Vermont is awesome!  After a couple hours of driving, I reach the trailhead.  

It’s a 2.6-mile hike to the summit of Mount Abraham. The trail is amazing:  ridiculously tall trees in a thick, shaded forest.  Moss and fern and mushrooms and rocks and greenery like you wouldn’t believe.  No bothersome insects.  The air was fresh, cool, & easy to breathe.  Rocks, mud, & roots to maneuver around.  Big, rocky steps.  Huge boulders.  I’m grateful for being able to put my long body to good use.  Dude, this is a hike.  The last half-mile was almost grueling.  Grueling, yet an extremely enjoyable climb up the steep, rocky path.   The views near and at the top were outstanding.  Green mountains everywhere.  On my way down, two guys with packs were heading up.  I called them my “heroes”.  The hike down was just as beautiful, and I love noticing things overlooked on the way up.  I love how hiking is such a perfect exercise.  I love how different muscles are working at different rates depending on whether you’re going uphill or downhill.  If I lived in Vermont, I would tear up those trails, I’d learn to do it with a pack, and I’d have the sweetest legs ever.  I am in love with the State of Vermont. 

After the three hours of hiking, it’s time to head back South.  Such a brief visit in a wonderful place, I’d be staying in Albany, NY for the night.  …but not before a couple amazing hours of driving.  The mountains, the quiet towns, the fresh air, the nature. 

I hit the South Street Café in Bennington one more time for a cup of coffee.  Sipping outside, there’s a little red-haired girl showing me how well she can jump down the stairs, jump across the sidewalk, and jump straight up, telling me how excited she is that her family is moving back to Bennington.  I end up chatting with some guy about how awesome Vermont is.  If only I had a higher tolerance for cold.  He suggested wool blankets.  Time to hit the road again.  I stop at a store for some pure maple candy.  Soon after, I cross the border and enter New York State.  It’s just as beautiful up in these parts, heading toward Albany. 

I’m about to see Deborah, my sweetest friend since junior high.  I’m happily about to visit her, but my gut reaction as I arrive to Albany is strange.  Nearing the city, my eyes see a very tall building, and it brings tears.  As the approach continues, it’s a full-fledged cry.  I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a city.  It wasn’t because I thought it was beautiful.  I was crying because Vermont was over for now.  What a shumnious twenty-four hours. 

A night in Bennington...

Stealth camping is the term given to camping at an un-established wilderness site. It also can have a second meaning, which is camping in a site without the permission of a landowner.

On a couch in a coffee shop in Bennington, Vermont, I meet and chat with two humorous, laid back guys sitting on the opposite couch. 

“I sell babies on the black market”, jokes Elvis.

“Since he’s black”, adds Niko.

“He’s my pimp (referring to Niko), that’s why he wears those sunglasses,” says Elvis.  

Of course I understand they’re not serious.  After they get over the fact that I’m not really a pro-disc golfer, Niko gives me great info and directions to a nearby spot that’ll make a good campsite. 

I drive down the street and around the corner, about a mile from downtown’s center and find the trail.  Hammock-sleeper in tow, I want to set up while there’s still daylight.  I nearly wipe out after slipping on mushy lawn clippings that someone had dumped at the start of the trail, which is on a slight decline.  The trail runs parallel to the river at first, then veers off.  

I get to the clearing that Niko described and explore possible options.  I find a nice little nook that appears to be the perfect natural campsite, not too close to the river.  While being feasted on by mosquitoes, I quickly hang the hammock between two trees… golden!  It’s still early, so I head back downtown for a cold one.  The Rattlesnake Cafe, as recommended by Elvis, is a Mexican joint with a cozy little bar.  Two Stone IPAs later, I head back to camp.  The stars are out; it’s a lovely night.  I’m kind of scared.  I’ve camped alone before, but never in an area this strange.  It’s a crazy test for myself.  Facing fear, being adventurous, trying something new.  Walking down the trail with my battery-powered lamp, I make a brief phone call to hear a familiar voice before sleeping.  I get cozy in the hammock and zip myself in, Swiss-army knife tucked into my pants. Time to catch some zzzzzzzzzzz. Here's the hammock... now picture it in the dark of night: 

I wake up a few times as the air becomes chilly, to wrap myself completely in the blanket.  All is well… until…

…MY EYES SPRING OPEN!!... to the sound of a growl.  A low, continuous, rumbling growl.  HOLY SHIT WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!  It’s in the woods, to my left.  I have no idea what it is.  I hear the thing barking, but it’s not a dog bark.  It’s something way stranger than a dog.  All I can picture is some medium sized creature with coarse hair, pointy ears, creepy round eyes, and a sharp, raw, drooling mouth… staring me down.  OH MY GOD… GET THE FUKUOKA AWAY FROM ME!  It’s quiet for a moment, and then I hear the growling from the opposite side.  It’s not right next to me, but apparently it’s circling me.  I’ve made camp in this thing’s territory, and am being kicked out.  That’s right, I’m OUT OF HERE.  It’s 4 a.m.  I wait until the growling subsides for a minute and unzip my hammock.  Socks off, sandals on.  I hastily grab my light & backpack and hit the trail.  I’ll go back for the hammock in the morning.  Call me a quakebuttock; I just need to get the hell back to my car.  I drive to the downtown area again, park, and sleep in the safety of my back seat with the comfort(er) of down for two more hours.

I arise between 6 & 6:30 feeling pleasantly refreshed.  It’s cool out, and the morning sun brings way to another beautiful summer day.  I head down the trail once again, to fetch the hammock & blanket.  The ground is muddy and the tall golden weeds lining the trail are soaked with dew.  Something about daylight erases any fear.  Laughing to myself, I gather the hammock and walk back to the car.    

experiment

Following a blog that's inspired me to attempt to write using 100 words or fewer.  Not a very interesting story for most, but here goes...

Last week, played a most beautiful round at Warwick/Brakewell Steel.   No pro; I can recognize grandeur.  18^th hole, woods ate the StarBeast.  My baby, used for everything.  Went to Warwick today for discs.  Met David, looking for Valkyrie.  Small selection, but each walked out with two discs.  Met up at W/BS, decided to throw together.  Joined by a chick who blew me away! Sweet! 4^th hole:  David lost a brand new disc.  Four pairs eyes, good 15 minutes.   Disc was in his bag… entire time.  He’d already taken his second throw.  Not even high.