Redemption - Bagging Mt. Whitney

Everybody loves a redemption story and it is especially meaningful when you live it. As previously documented in this journal, my son and I tried to climb Mt. Whitney last year. I will not recount the shortcomings of this effort here, but I will summarize that trip as optimistic and overly ambitious. Needles to say, I wanted another shot at it!

There is nothing like getting the lay of the land to build some confidence which was certainly the result of the first attempt. After that experience, the next attempt would be different. The first change is that we would do it within the permit window. I put my request into the lottery system within minutes of the window opening up. I requested an overnight permit in September. My thinking was doing an overnight broke the hike up into two pieces thus improving our chances of success. Second, September seemed an ideal time in that it was certainly better than November when we first tried, but also it would be clear of snow and still somewhat warm.

Unfortunately my lottery request was rejected. They offered up days where there were still opening and I quickly elected an overnight permit starting Monday, September 25th to the following day on the 26th. That it was a weekday did not bother me what-so-ever. I just wanted a second chance. And my son would miss some school, but in my mind, these two days were going to be significantly more meaningful to his ‘education’ than any days in a classroom.

My son and I checked out the Mobius Arch again in the Alabama Hills. We took the obligatory photo with Mt. Whitney in the background.

Finally the day arrived to leave for Lone Pine. We had all our equipment and were ready to climb Whitney. We drove up Sunday and spent the night in a motel. We woke up at a sane hour unlike the year before, had breakfast, packed up and headed to Whitney Portal. We had met some other people at the motel that were climbing as well. We then met them in the Whitney Portal parking lot. One of them would be with us for the majority of our trip. We got everything together at about nine’ish we started our journey. We showed our permit to the ranger and away we go!

It was nice to start on a sunny day and we were feeling good. We worked our way up over the next couple of hours to High Camp where we had planned to spend the night. This was the highest point on the mountain where you could camp legally. We were a little anxious about getting a spot, but we showed up early in the afternoon and had our pick of spots. We spent some time thinking about finding a spot out of the wind. We ended up with a really good place.

This seemed to be about as ideal as we could do from a wind perspective. We built a wall around the tent as well. Cold was one thing, but add wind to it and I thought we might be in trouble. The wind never came.

We had a lot of free time and did some exploring. We spoke to someone who told us that the previous night had gotten so cold that people got up in the middle of the night and headed down the mountain. This was both alarming to me and a little stupid. Our sleeping bags were three-season rated to the mid-twenties. It seemed that we should be fine, but we were definitely a little nervous. We spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring, resting and enjoying the nice weather.

As evening approached, our plan was to stay up and out of the tent for a while so we were good and tired when it was time to go to bed. The sun was setting behind the mountain so it got dark early. By six the sun was gone. There were people standing around talking and we did this for a while. The temperature really dropped quickly and we really did not have heavy jackets like some of the other people. They had definitely thought through this part of the experience. After about a half-hour, we decided to get into the tent, stay warm and do some reading and look at our phones. Although I was worried about my battery and did not want to run out of battery so we could not take pictures at the top; that would have been a fate worse than death. We had decided maybe we should put on a fair amount of clothing in our sleeping bags to stay as warm as possible.

Finally we went to sleep. However it only lasted for a few hours. It was definitely cold. I could feel my feet getting cold. We slept back-to-back as that was helpful. When we were in town the day before, the local hiking store had sleeping bag liners for rent which I thought about for a moment but did not get. I thought about those liners all night wishing I had pulled the trigger. Only my nose was sticking out my bag and I could feel the cold air in my lungs. We tossed and turned the rest of the night waiting for the next day to arrive. It seemed as though it would never come.

Finally we could see a little light through the tent and we began to hear others rustle around. Shortly we mustered the energy to get up and start to get ready. We scrambled around and got ready. We were pretty much dressed so much of the effort was about getting the blood flowing. We ate some food, put things away so the Marmots and Chipmunks would not get into our stuff. I did my morning business which horrified my son but was necessary. We were as ready as we were going to be. A bunch of people had already headed up. And so we started for the peak.

The infamous Chains. This area on our first attempt was all snow and ice. There were only single foot prints to walk in and a very steep snow field down to the right. It was a deciding factor for turning back last year.

We had a clear day and there was very little wind. We could not ask for much more. The conditions were about the exact opposite of what we had the previous year. And so we began our march toward the 99 switchbacks. We worked our way up to Trail Crest pretty quickly. This was a milestone as it was where we turned back last year.

We rested a little at Trail Crest. The view was amazing both from where we came from, but also Mt. Hitchcock and the Hitchcock lakes were very impressive on the other side. We had also met up with the friend we made at the motel and the three of us started our push to the top.

There were some pretty dramatic drop-offs and views particularly in the first portion of the trail. We slogged our way past the needles. This portion was definitely taxing on our bodies. The trail itself was not particularly hard but the altitude began to be felt in a serious way. We pressed on. You work your way across the backside and you can see the top. There is an area where it turns hard to the right and you are at the last portion. When you can really see the Shelter at the top in a real way, you know you are going to make it.

The best part of this was doing it with my son. A close second was redemption after failing the first time.

It was not a sprint, but there was a point where we knew we were going to make it and the pace for the last few hundred yards definitely picked up. Finally, this peak was officially bagged! What a great feeling. At least a year in the making and really longer when the notion of making this attempt first cropped up in my mind.

The weather at the top was about as perfect as I think it could be; sunny, little wind and a very comfortable temperature. We spent about a half-hour soaking it all in. The views were pretty amazing. I remember thinking that I really need to absorb it so I could remember it. My efforts to save battery life up to this point paid off and we documented all aspects of the top. I am glad we did because I rely on those pictures to really recall the experience. After a while, we realized that we were only half-way done and that we needed to get going. And so after some reflection, we headed down.

Going down is always the hardest part for me from a physical perspective. We were moving at a good pace and got back to Trail Crest relatively quickly. This portion of the trail is pretty dramatic. Although the very last part of it you have to go back up, and while it was not really hard, going down was the mindset I had locked into. I again attempted to really soak it in and make it stick in my memory banks. We headed down the 99 switchbacks and back to our tent. We packed up our camp, ate some food and did some stretching to get ready for the last push. We worked our way down noting each spot that we had seen on the way up and the previous year. The first year we screwed up on the way down at Lone Pine Lake and made sure not to make that mistake again.

Victory!

Finally we made it back to the parking lot and our car. Wow, what a feeling. We were parked next to a van with a couple in it who were going to leave in the evening. They wanted to know what it was like. With the success and the trip in the rear-view mirror, the only thing I could say was ‘it was great’.

Pine Island Camp - A Wonderful and Privileged Experience

Pine Island Camp is a boys camp located in Belgrade Lakes Maine. The camp is the second oldest operating camp in the United States established in 1902. I am third generation and my kids are fourth generation. Pretty remarkable. The camp is on a small island in which some one hundred people live every summer with no running water, no electricity (slight modification on this fact) for boys who come from across the entire globe, but primarily the Northeast. The camp offers a number of activities but is first-and-foremost a tripping camp sending hiking and canoeing trips out across Maine and New Hampshire.

This type of picture has been created every summer for many years. You will find me in the back row on the right. I wish I could of found a picture from one of my later years as I was still pretty dorky in 1982. What are you going to do? The first couple of years were a lot of fun, but I would start hitting my stride in the following years.

I noticed that the camp on their website indicates that it offers ‘summers that shape a lifetime’. I would completely agree with that, particularly for me. My six years at Pine Island Camp were the most formative experience of my youth. I look at three experiences that impacted me beyond my general upbringing; college, high school and Pine Island Camp. Each of these had an impact and all were pretty good, but Pine Island definitely pushed me the most. In 1983 I was merely a senior in high school and amongst other things, led seven boys on Senior Whites. This trip is the big hiking trip at the end of the year and is seven days in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. When I look back at that, I am not sure the person I am today would let my 1983 self lead this trip. Particularly if I apply the perspective of the kids that went with me and getting permission from their parents. They would take one look at me and probably reflexively respond with a resounding NO! And yet I did it amongst a number of other trips that year.

Monte Ball was the camp director for my six years. He is a remarkable man and my successes at Pine Island were to a large degree, the result of his confidence in me. Why he trusted me is not altogether clear, but clearly he did. I certainly did not appreciate or understand it at the time, but his impact on my experience is crystal clear to me now.

Monte is a unique character. He was a camper during a couple of years when my father was a camper in the 50’s. There was definitely some built-in history that was to my advantage. In 1981, Monte came to our house in West Hartford. I was fifteen at the time. After the visit, he said I could be a Counselor-In-Training (CIT). I believe this was largely the result of his relationship with my father and grandfather because I was at least one year, and really two years too young. When I got to camp, my age as compared to other CITs was somewhat glaring. Making things even worse, there were other campers the same age as I was; hard to remember but I think a couple were older than me. Somewhere in the middle of that summer, I got tagged with the name ‘Camper Doug’. That one stuck for a couple of years.

Monte Ball, Ken Howe and Tom Mcfee were the directors of the camp during the majority of my six years. They were a good team and everyone had a great deal of respect for them all.

Monte definitely pushed everyone to make the most out of their summers. Whether you were in camp or out on a trip, caring for these boys was a tremendous responsibility; even though at the time I am not sure I really realized the magnitude of it all. Monte was a force to be reckoned with and was really the heartbeat of the camp. There were legendary stories of things he did and I was a participant in a couple of them. I would attempt to convey them here, but I think that unless you went to PIC you really would not appreciate them. Thank you Monte Ball!

There were numerous memorable events and trips that made up my six years as a counselor at PIC. Most trips we went on were memorable for either good or bad things that occurred during the trip. The first trip I ever went on was called Big Flag which was both a hiking and canoeing trip on Flagstaff Lake and Mount Bigelow. Generally there were two groups that started on either end of the trip and we would switch in the middle going from canoeing to hiking or vice versa. We had started with canoeing. On the first day as we were just about to land at our first camping spot, a camper named Frank Petito took his fishing rod out to get a couple of casts in and managed to hook another camper, Chris Quinn right under his thumbnail. This turned into a huge issue. Chris would not let us get the hook out. The following day, some local drove down to our campsite to collect driftwood. We asked him to drive a counselor and Chris to the Emergency Room. This guy clearly did not want to do it and asked Chris if he could look at it before they left. Chris cautiously showed him his hand with the lure dangling from his thumb. The man had grabbed some pliers while no one was looking, grabbed Chris’ wrist and yanked out the hook. Chris screamed in pain and shortly after yelled thank you umpteen times through many tears.

The following year I had gone on Senior Whites as the assistant trip leader. I remember this was a really good trip, but the thing I remember the most is singing the song Hotel California by the Eagles with Chris Seymour over and over. I now shudder to think how many times we sang that song over a seven day period. With the exception of one other camper, David Farr who participated in singing on and off, all the other campers and our trip leader were annoyed beyond belief. I also went on a trip called the Saco River this year which is a bit of a lazy three day float down one of Maine’s most popular rivers, known mostly for tubing and drinking. There were a bunch of rope swings and this was a fun few days. The trip leader was a guy named Jack Barden who was a very easy going southerner. He and I slept in the same tent and he had this scar that ran nearly the entire length of his torso which was the result of open-heart surgery he had a few years earlier. I was just floored by the size of it and thought they most of had him opened up in the most significant way.

When you come down Pamola Peak, there is a giant rock that juts out and just begs for a picture.

The following year I went on the Mt. Katahdin trip. This would quickly become my favorite trip. There is a bunkhouse in amongst a number of lean-tos at the Chimney Pond campsite. This was located inside the ‘horseshoe’ like enclosure of the mountain. The views here are magnificent. PIC would get the bunkhouse every year for four nights and we would climb and descend the mountain three or four times during those days. After this first time up, I would angle to get this trip for the next three seasons. Mt. Katahdin was easily my favorite trip.

On a trip called Mt. Abrams, I may have had my best moment as a trip leader. This hike was a three day trip for the smaller kids. I remember taking this one out a couple of times. You would hike up to this old abandon cabin in a little clearing. There was definitely a scary component to this location. I remember kids swearing that a man and his do came in one night while were all sleeping. On year as we were coming back down on the last day to be picked up, there was a commotion in the back of our line. I stopped and went back to see what was happening and one boy named Dickie Dilworth had fallen backward while crossing a stream. He was screaming in pain. I pulled him up and it was clear his arm had broken. He apparently put his arm behind him to break the fall, and snap. I jumped into action, straightened it, got an ace bandage and wrapped it up. I then took four sticks, evenly spaced them around his arm and then duct-taped the crap out of his arm. We got back to camp some hours later. I think Dickie and the camp nurse went straight into Waterville and the emergency room. I recall being told my ‘field dressing’ was quite good and that his arm would have been really screwed up otherwise. Dickie had some noteworthiness in that he was the grandson of the two time Mayor of Philadelphia.

We took a detour to go as far up the Horse Races as we could. We spent a little more than a day doing this and it was a lot of fun.

Among many memorable trips, Senior Canoe I had taken I believe in 1986 was a standout. We were headed north to an area of Maine just west of Mt. Katahdin. This was a good group of kids and my brother and a good friend, Will Clyde were my assistant trip leaders. Who you are with definitely can make a trip good or bad. This was definitely good. We put in on the West Branch Penobscot River just below Seboomook Lake. We spent about two days going down the river until it dumps into Chesuncook. This stretch was a lot of fun and pretty easy with good flow of the river with intermittent rapids. We had some time so we went to a place called the Horse Races near Black Pond. This was very shallow but a lot of fun. We practiced poling which I think is a lost art in canoeing. We returned to Chesuncook and happened to have the wind at our back for much of the next couple of days. We found a rock outcrop which allowed for a fun jump. One night we found an abandoned cabin which was pretty cool and provided a good option. We spend out days lashing our canoes together in two teams sailing and racing down Chesuncook. We had great weather the whole time. You can bring a lot of good food on canoe trips. This was a good one.

This was a good crew. I can’t name everyone but I remember (back row) Dan Hollnagel, my brother Ben, Will Clyde, Darby?, ? Brewer, and in front, John Fitchorn, Jonathan Edwards and Marty and Charlie Hale.

One of the most important aspects of Pine Island is an event that takes place at the end of the camp season called the War Games. This has been something the camp has done for nearly it’s entire 100+ year history. The camp is divided int two army’s, Blues verse the Grays. This of course is to be a recreation of this Civil War. And in the ’80s, that history was played up quite a bit. There was always a strong contingent of campers and staff from the south, many from Greenville, South Carolina where Monte ran a private school called Christ Church. This elevated the North verse South energy of this event. Today, I believe this is not quite the focus it once was in our more politically correct world. Where the camp theme is generally unity, this is a brief moment in the summer where things are divided in two, and quite literally a Civil War. The game is primarily strategy with a fair amount of physical exertion, but no contact. The whole thing is a big deal. My grandfather had been a victorious Gray General in the ’40s or ’50s. Despite living all my life in the Northeast, I was in the Gray Army. If any of your family has been in an army previously, you are in the same army. New kids get divvied up to hopefully have a balanced number of soldiers. In 1984 and 1985 I was the Gray General. This is generally reserved for senior staff and it was my turn. The Blue General my year was Ned Bishop. he was a bit older than I was and had won the previous year. I had known the winter before that I was likely to be General the following year and spent the majority of that time planning. I was a little obsessed with winning and had developed a unique plan that I thought would be quite effective. Long-story-short, I beat Ned which was a bit of an upset. The following year, the Blue General was Whit Fisher who was one of my best friends. He was a good deal smarter than I was and my new plan had been seen and experienced the previous year. I was nervous about being able to repeat. I also created this arbitrary desire for the Farquhar Family to be undefeated as Gray Army Generals. I was able to win my second year as well. I take some pride in these victories. My brother became General a few years later and he won as well. We are 4-0. I had hoped one of my sons would become a counselor and maybe general as well. Maybe extend that perfect record. No such luck and the prospects are fading quickly.

Maybe some of the best times I had at PIC were not even during the camp season. Often you could come early and stay late for work crews. There was a never-ending list of maintenance and rehabilitation that needed to occur on the island. We would generally work all day and then go out and have fun! Some of the more memorable times occurred after camp. They generally involved alcohol and youthful exuberance out and about Maine! Dinners at the Last Unicorn, trips to the Skowhegan Fair, crazy trips back to the island at late hours on the Rockwell. Those days I remember with great fondness.

Maybe the most important aspect of this experience was the lifetime friends that I made. I can think of about twenty people that if I called them to get together, they would go out of their way to make happen. And when we met, it would instantly be like old times, despite the thirty-plus years that have transpired. There was something about the summer days spent together and the experiences we all went through that creates a life-long bond. I suspect most people have some similar experience from their youth that creates a bond and some wistful recollection of youth, but I like to think that summers at Pine Island Camp were particularly special. And during the past thirty years, I have seen many of PIC’ers on-and-off. Akka Lakka!

This was a gathering of alumni in Fall of 2014 to do some upkeep on The Thomas Schultz Memorial Kopa Kababa. Tom was a fellow camper and counselor who died in the PanAm 103 bombing and many of his friends rebuilt a bunkhouse in his name.

Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma and Arizona Highpoints

I work for a company based out of Austin Texas. I decided that I would drive home to California and climb four high points on the way home. I usually fly, but this provided an opportunity to knock out some state high points. My plan was to climb Guadalupe Mountain in Texas, then Mount Wheeler in New Mexico, backtrack a little to bag Black Mesa in Oklahoma and then finish up with Mount Humphrey in Arizona. Lots of driving!

This hike was surprisingly nice. When you think Texas, you don’t think Mountains. Guadalupe is definitely a real mountain.

I left work in Austin on June 29th at about four in the afternoon and started driving West. I work in North Austin so getting out the metropolis was pretty easy and in short order, I was driving roads that had little to no traffic. For the next few hours, I enjoyed the vastness that is Texas. As the sun began to set, I began to enter West Texas, the oil and gas rigs started becoming more and more plentiful. For the next couple of hours, the orange glow and haze that our country’s energy demands have created was something of a hellish landscape or some apocalyptic movie scene.

I was not sure where I was going to sleep so I decided to drive to the trailhead for Guadalupe to get a lay of the land. When I arrived, there was not much around. I decided to drive to the closest town which was about thirty miles away and in New Mexico. I found a motel, spent a little time prepping for the morning and then went to bed.

I woke up the next morning pretty early and drove back to the trailhead. Things looked a lot better in daylight than the darkness the night before. There was a young man, Romero, who was getting ready to climb as well. So we teamed up and climbed together. He was a student at the University of Houston who had an internship in the oil and gas industry and was living in a trailer about forty miles southwest.

The trail was quite good, challenging but not terribly difficult. We made good time and before long, made it to the top. The views were great and I was pleasantly surprised by the Texas high point. There was quite the marker at the top; it looked maybe like American Airlines contributed to the installation. We made it down pretty quickly which was good because the temperature was definitely rising pretty quickly. I said my good-byes to Romero and was anxious to start driving north to Wheeler Peak.

The trip north was visually interesting. Early on I passed the Carlsbad Caverns which I would have really liked to visit, but I did not have the time. Southeast New Mexico is very arid and what little human development there was, certainly was not visually nice and the area appears to be broadly impoverished. I did drive through Roswell which noteworthy from a pop-culture perspective, but it had a fair amount to be desired. I saw no life from other worlds, but the life I did see was somewhat alien. The farther I got north, the better things got. Santa Fe was nice and I finally go into Taos about five in the evening. I was able to have a casual evening, good rest and ready for an early morning departure.

I woke up before daylight, grabbed a quick breakfast at the hotel and started heading to the ski resort parking lot. Halfway up the access road, there was an older gentleman with his thumb out so I picked him up. He was a consultant to the ski resort from Vermont and looking to make the same climb. This was good because he knew where he was going. We started hiking and things were good. The area was very pretty. My new friend was not particularly fast and he told me to go on with him after about a half-mile. The beginning of the trail was fairly easy and in the woods. After a couple of miles, we really started heading up and got out of the treeline. The trail became steep and was a series of switchbacks. There was a little snow here and there, a fair amount of loose rock, but the trail was pretty good and the scenery was great on a crystal blue morning. After a few hours, I made it to the top. There was a fair amount of hikers. The view at the top was really nice. I spent about thirty minutes up there and started heading down. I met my early morning travel buddy on the way down.

The official top and definitely one of my favorite high points so far.

I made it down pretty quickly but it definitely beat up some. The last mile was rough and I had a little trouble finding my car in the parking lot which made things that much more painful. I was happy to get out my hiking clothes, get in the car and start heading to Black Mesa in Oklahoma. I did stop in Taos again and grabbed a burger. I ate it in the restaurant. In time I would wish that I got something to go.

My plan now was to get as close as I could to Black Mesa and then hike it in the morning. I headed down out of the Carson National Forest toward Eagle Nest. The scenery was great and as I got into Eagle Nest, it had gotten quite dark and poured rain. This area was really nice and I suspect it was a little bit of a hidden gem for the areas summer vacationers. I motored on. After a couple of hours, I finally made it into Oklahoma. I had gone through a number of small towns and eyed motels I could stay at. It was starting to get late but I figured I would see how close I could get and then go back to the closest motel.

Around a quarter of seven, I was essentially at Black Mesa, which was really in the middle of nowhere. Finding the trailhead was difficult. My GPS was not cooperating. There were also some comments that GPS took you to the wrong place. I found a Bed and Breakfast that seemed to house hikers. I knocked on their door to see if they had space and any details on the hike. Unfortunately, no one answered despite it looking like there were people there. So I headed out on the main road and found a person riding a bike. They indicated the trailhead was a bit further down. So I figured I would drive to the trailhead, and in short order, I was there. It was seven on the dot and the sun was setting. All Trails indicated it was about nine miles out and back and the trail was moderate. And based on the surroundings which were rolling hills with scattered Mesas that were a few hundred feet high, I thought I could make good time. Could I do it in a little over two hours? Or so I thought.

So I got my gear on quick and headed out at a brisk pace. The trail was easy but four-plus mile as the sun is setting quickly proved to be long. The scenery was quite nice and besides the cows, I pretty much had the place to myself. After a couple of miles, I finally got to the Mesa and started to climb. Pretty much during the first two miles, I was certain I knew what had to be the high point, but was wrong a few times. When I got to the top of the Mesa, it was very flat and I thought I must be pretty close. Wrong! The high point proved to be two miles across and on the other side of the Mesa. I found it very frustrating. Where the hell was that monument. At long last, I could see it. I was doing intermittent jogging to go faster. And at long last I made it.

My hope was to get to the edge of the Mesa before the sun went down. Mission accomplished, but the rest of the trip back to my car was at best twilight, if not dark. I could hear a fox or a coyote following me for a while. This is after I sort of bumped into some stray cows after coming off the Mesa and they let it be known that they saw me with a fair number of moos. At long last, I made it back to my car at about 9:45 PM. I quickly changed into some driving gear and headed back to the closest town to see if I could get a room.

Coming down of Black Mesa, the sunset in the distance was pretty good.

I was feeling pretty good about myself as I worked my way back through some pretty remote prairie and farmland in the Westernmost portion of Oklahoma. Two high points in one day and a fair amount of mileage driven as well. On the way in, there were a number of small towns with motels and this point,I was happy to stay at any one of them. Little did I know I was in for one of my longest nights ever.

All the motels in the three small towns on the way back to I-25 were all booked. I checked about six different motels and to my surprise all were full. It was now about eleven in the evening and I was pretty tired. I finally got to I-25 and figured that the towns off this Interstate would be much better options. A little closer to Arizona wouldn’t hurt either. I then stopped in Springer, Wagon Mound and Las Vegas New Mexico certain I would find something. And to my surprise and disbelief, all these hotels were full all because it was the Fourth of July weekend. I thought to myself who traveling to and vacationing in these towns. Not to be too snobbish, but there was nothing obvious that these locations had to offer that would warrant any vacation time. I finally got to Las Vegas, NM which had about twenty hotels. I pretty much stopped at everyone and all full. How can this be? Who are these people and why are they vacationing here? I was now forced to press on to Santa Fe and figured I would definitely be able to find something there. When I got to Santa Fe at about 2 AM, hotel row was all booked up as well. I spent about a half-hour going to hotel to hotel and hearing the same things, all booked up for the long weekend. So after a while, I gave up and decided to sleep in the car I had rented. Unfortunately, it was a sedan, so the best I could do is crank down the driver’s seat and make the best of it. I slept off and on for a few hours. After about four hours it was seven in the morning and I could not sleep anymore.

I got up, cleaned myself off as best I could and went to a Starbucks. I got a couple of coffees and some breakfast sandwiches. I started driving west towards Flagstaff Arizona. In a few hours, I was getting close. I was constantly doing math on whether I would hike Humphrey this day, or wait until tomorrow. The map shows that it is about ten miles out an back, so I was looking at five hours. However, I did two high points yesterday and effectively got no sleep so doing it today would be pushing it in a major way. I got into Flagstaff a little afternoon. I stopped at the local supermarket, got some hiking supplies and decided I would drive to the trailhead. The mountain is also a ski resort. It was one o’clock and I was feeling pretty good so I figured I would give it try.

The trail starts from the parking lot and cuts across ski trail before heading into the woods. There was a fair amount of traffic and I was following a few hikers which was good for pushing my pace which I thought was important based on the late start. Speaking to people, there was a saddle which was an important landmark on the trail. This day a few people were saying it was so windy that people were not going past the saddle. It was a bit of a slog, but I finally made it to the saddle and it was definitely windy. However, I had gone this far and there was no chance I was going to turn back and do it all over in the morning. I dropped my pack at the saddle to lighten the load a little and headed my way to the top. While the wind was quite strong, this portion was good terrain and it was quite clear. I finally made it to the top and was pretty proud of this last effort.

Maximum effort with a great pay-off. Check-off Arizona.

I worked my way back down which was rough. I was exhausted. I also almost got lost as I missed a switchback and walked out into a boulder field and could not spot the trail on the other side. I was definitely disoriented. I happened to see out of the corner of my eye someone making the turn I missed and was able to backtrack. If it was not for that person, I could have been in trouble.

Getting back to the car and getting my gear off was magical. I headed back into Flagstaff and had only three things on my mind; food, a shower and sleep. I went to Chipotle and got a giant burrito. I went to my hotel, ate it and took a shower. I got into bed and fell asleep in short order. I woke up the next morning at 8 AM, got some breakfast and drove home to Southern California. This trip worked out great. I was four for four on my high points without incident. The scenery was great and I saw a bunch of the country I really had not seen before. I can’t wait for my next trip!

God did not create Man, but Man may create Heaven

We are in very interesting times and what our future may look like, endlessly fascinates me. I merely consume lots of great thinking from others. I wish I was smart enough to formulate a unique theory. Our potential, or maybe likely future, boggles my very average mind. And there are some wild ideas about the world we will live in and what it might look like in the not so distant future. Some of those potential scenarios are very optimistic, but many paint potentially dark and scary outcomes. This is a personal exploration of some of that thinking and my humble guess at our future.

Religion is also a topic I find to be very fascinating. I think there is a corollary to our future. Why are we religious? What has been the impact on our history and how is it impacting individual behavior in our quickly changing culture and society today? I think the battle of religion against science and reason has yet to play itself out. I believe that religion’s purpose, need and usefulness, is eroding quickly; arguably its usefulness is already behind us but we have yet to recognize this as a whole. Will there be some reckoning where things come to a head or does religion fade away during this century? Maybe religion becomes reconfigured because we have an innate need to belong to something that is greater?

Recently I watched an episode of the National Geographic show called “The Year Million” which was a series that focused on many theories and aspects of what mankind will look like in the year million; a long way from 2017. One episode called "Dude, Where's My Body?" suggests that in the not-so-distant future, we will be able to load our minds and lives into a digital state and vacate our biological life. This what they called the Metaverse. This theory resonates with me for a number of reasons.

What is the Metaverse? Good question. However, before we answer that question, let us start with making sure we have somewhat of a baseline on the characteristics of Heaven; mostly as a concept. Before I define this, I must state that I am no theologian nor am I religious. That being said, from my perspective, heaven is a state that humanity can go to if they are deemed to qualify by their God. We vacate our earthly bodies and live in a higher state with all the others that came before us and have been good or deemed worthy. An afterlife is the essence of this concept and found in most religions. We live in the 'house of God' and historically, the heavens have largely been portrayed to be above the clouds and beyond Earth; consistent in what our knowledge of the world was 2000 years ago. We remain there for eternity in a virtuous state. Certainly not a perfect description but I think this hits the major elements. This desire for an after-life or some aspect of immortality is found in most religions. Of course, this gets to our core fear as mortal humans, that life is finite. I certainly do not want to die.

Another thing to think about is that there is also an alternative to heaven in most religions. We of course refer to this as Hell; primarily a Christian concept. There does seem to be a binary choice in all religions split by good and evil. What is also an interesting condition is that while we often refer to all life on Earth as ‘all living creatures of God’, Heaven and Hell in many religions is reserved for only human life.

Now the Metaverse is a ‘virtual reality’ in which users not only interact with but enter and live in a computer-generated environment. And like Heaven, we vacate our Earthly bodies, and go into a higher state; in this case, a virtual and digital world. The Metaverse today would require several evolutionary steps from a technical, biological and energy perspective. With the growing speed of our technical capabilities, I suspect the Metaverse becomes a reality in the next fifty years. We would, in theory, be able to remain in the Metaverse for eternity.  You would be able to interact with all other humans who have also entered the Metaverse. The similarities between the core elements of Heaven and the Metaverse are substantial, with the exception of two key points; the first is that man will create the Metaverse and God created Heaven, and second, Heaven is not real and the Metaverse will be.

The Metaverse is a collective virtual shared space, created by the convergence of virtually enhanced physical reality and physically persistent virtual space, including the sum of all virtual worlds, augmented reality, and the internet.

Now, the likelihood of the Metaverse I think is high. What is uncertain is how virtuous it will be. First, I believe the only way the Metaverse does not become a reality is if mankind self-destructs before the technology needed to make the Metaverse becomes a reality. In respect to what the Metaverse will be like is also dictated by the fallibility of the human condition. There may be no overriding virtuous and high moral standard governed by a God in the Metaverse. There is a real possibility that the Metaverse may contain both Heavenly and Hellish like conditions because there is not a single God-like force directing and controlling good morality. The simplicity of the binary choice between good and evil being judged by an all-knowing God is aspirational. What is concerning is a world created by the frailties and complexities that exist within the human condition puts the likelihood that the Metaverse is heavenly in question, and may be even certain. This could be a key difference between the Metaverse and Heaven. I think there is a real potential that the Metaverse embodies both Heaven and Hell. If this is the case, then the Metaverse could mirror our life on Earth. If this were the result, then the only advancement would be immortality.

My quick view of religion is that it allowed us to make sense of a world that we did not understand. We lived in a world where there really was only one truth, and that was death. You can view this mortal reality in two ways; that there was finality and everything ended, or there was some next step after this life. This next step is aspirational and I think embedded in what makes us human. Additionally and maybe more importantly, the potential of moving to an afterlife provides a control mechanism for those that ruled. To create a possibility that there was a next step, mankind was able to impose a morality condition that was beneficial in controlling the growing masses in a time where there was limited opportunity to impose control on humanity in an overarching manner. However, as we grow smarter and gain more knowledge about our world and the Universe beyond, the likelihood of a God, Heaven and Hell, and all that goes with religion becomes less reasonable, rational and necessary.

In turn, we are growing and evolving to allow us to get to a point where we will be able to shed the limitations of biology and become immortal. I think the Metaverse is a near-certain future; barring the potential that our self-destructive ways don’t get the better of us first. What the Metaverse looks like when we get there is significantly less certain. The core decision or eventuality boils down to whether the Metaverse will be just good, like Heaven, or human nature will create a condition where there is good and bad, much like our historical mortal life. There are a lot of questions that we must contemplate in the Metaverse. Is the Metaverse an event horizon? Or is evolution finite or infinite? Is the Metaverse the end of humanity? Or will we have a mortal coil that is our umbilical cord to humanity in the Metaverse? What will the process of entering the Metaverse be like; gradual or a quick download? What will our sensation of this new world be like? One could presume that because there will be the capacity to shed the limitations of our current world that this new reality will be many times more sensational than what we know today. May be infinitely more sensational, and will that be good or bad, Heaven or Hell?

I will certainly spend the rest of my days observing and exploring how likely the Metaverse will be in our future. From a personal perspective, I suspect that I will unlikely be able to take advantage of a life in the Metaverse. I suspect I will be on the outside looking in of this opportunity. And for someone who does not want to die, I find the cruel and personally disappointing. They only silver lining is that I believe my children will have the opportunity to enter the Metaverse. And I hope it is Heavenly. I find it ironic that it is very likely that the fiction our ancestors created will essentially come to fruition as the result of our evolution and making.

Connecticut Highpoint

Despite living in Connecticut for 20 plus years some 20 years ago, it wasn’t until today that I bagged Mt. Frissell. The opportunity presented itself and I took advantage of it.

This is the official marker. The actual site is not particularly impressive.

Mt. Frissell is a bit of an odd high point because it is not actually the high point of the actual mountain. The actual summit of Mt. Frissell is located in Massachusetts. A portion of the mountain is located in Connecticut and that elevation is the highest point in the state.

I was visiting my parents and my boyhood home in West Hartford, Connecticut. They were planning to move to Maine after residing in Connecticut for about 40 years. I was helping them get the house ready to sell. We worked most of a Friday and Saturday and got more done than my father had planned for. We did some additional work on Sunday morning. I floated the idea that they could drive me to Mt. Frissell and let me bag this peak. And so off we went. It was a very nice day and it had been a while since I had been to this part of the state. Connecticut is classically New England. My parents had not been to this portion for a while as well. We headed northwest toward Salisbury. The drive was very nice.

We drove to the trailhead which required about a mile drive on a dirt road that was in decent condition. The actual trailhead was a bit unremarkable and it was hard to know for sure if we were at the trailhead. Luckily there was another person who was also trying to bag this high point. Hew as visiting from Ohio and had just bagged Massachusetts high point. We hiked together and within about 45 minuted reached the actual summit of Mt. Frissell. The hike up was was moderate with an initial uphill, some moderate distance travel and then a short climb to the top. There is not much of a view.

The actual summit is not impressive. After many years of hiking out west, not being above the treeline leads to some degree of disappointment.

I then hiked about another ten minutes south to make it to the actual Connecticut high point. The trip was downhill which is understandable but a bit strange. High point bagged. Another fifteen minutes and I got to a very old marker that was the point where New York, Massachusetts and Connecticut all meet. This was kind of cool.

My new hiking companion chose not to go to the Tri-State marker and started heading down. I was able to catch him and make it down to the bottom pretty quickly. My parents were waiting for me. Mission accomplished on this five-mile out and back to the 1,059-foot peak and Connecticut high point. A good hike and very nice to bag my home state’s high point.

My Contribution To The Electric Vehicle Future

I believe electric cars are the future and I would give myself a slight pat on the back as an early adopter. In no way was I someone who was DIY'ing electric vehicles a decade or so ago, nor was I an owner of the EV1. However, from a consumer and fan perspective, I think I got on the train fairly early. Much of my interest in EVs is the result of my unabashed fandom for Elon Musk and the Tesla story.

My first entry into vehicles that were an improvement from the traditional combustion engine was the purchase of a Toyota Camry Hybrid. I made this purchase in 2007. While the vehicle itself was a bit 'vanilla', what I became obsessed with is trying to get the best miles per gallon (MPG) I could and maximizing the use of the 'electric mileage'. I quickly began to spend a great deal of attention to the 'gamification' of achieving the best MPG. The Camry showed when you were using the gasoline engine and when it was being only operated electrically. The result was a dramatic change in how I drove and I did everything I could do to maximize usage of electric propulsion. This is when I became aware of 'hypermiling' and began to really pay attention to the tricks to minimize the usage of gasoline. I was pretty good. At the time, gas was pretty expensive; I believe it was around $4 per gallon. This added to the incentive to improve my MPG. The take-away was that providing data on MPG performance and the ability to not use gas was powerful and changed my driving behavior in a dramatic way. Also, it became clear to me that every car going forward should be at least a hybrid; if for no other reason than not having your car run while at a stop and idling.

My next purchase was a Toyota Prius; the poster child for the consciences driver. The vehicle was primarily for my wife's use as she does and continues to do quite a bit of driving. Previously she really disliked the Prius from a visual perspective, but surprisingly after a few weeks, she began to love it. She had rented a Prius a few months earlier in her business travels and this really changed her thinking around the vehicle. Her appreciation for the car was largely based on the fact that it felt very solid. I think this sensation was largely because the car weighed more than a typical car because of the battery. Now she did not embrace the hyper-mile perspective of driving but the performance from gasoline consumption was very good. She drove the most miles in our family and the financial impact was pretty dramatic particularly since her previous vehicle was a large SUV that sucked great amounts of gas.

Shortly after, the Camry lease ended and I opted to lease another Camry Hybrid. More or less the same as the previous vehicle with some minor improvements. And during these five years, I became as proficient a hybrid hyper-miler as possible.

In 2013 I decided I needed to really embrace a purer EV strategy. I coveted a Tesla but it was definitely out of my price range. I had some brand loyalty to Toyota and took a strong look at the Prius Plugin Hybrid. The problem was the range was only ten miles. This surprised me some as Toyota in many ways was the first brand to push and be successful with alternatives to pure combustion engines; i.e. the Prius. There were some other plugin hybrids from other companies that had twice the range. And to me, the difference between ten and twenty-plus miles was pretty significant.

I liked the look of the Ford Fusion quite a bit. The electric range of 20 miles was good along with the ability to use the carpool lane were compelling.

I was friendly with a guy who owned a Chevy Volt and he only had great things to say about it. I strongly considered getting a Volt, but I had read an article about Ford's new C Max Energi. I decided I would test drive it and afterward, I decided I really liked it. I did a test drive with my wife and for whatever she did not like it; again this was largely based on a visual aesthetic. The salesman thought maybe I should look at the Ford Fusion Energi and the Mrs thought this was visually much better. However, I didn't want to spend the extra money and thought the C Max was the best option. Long story short, I was able to negotiate a very good price that was marginally more than I was going to pay for the C Max. And so I got the Fusion. And I really liked the car. Having the 20 mile range was very intriguing to me and my work was about four miles each way. Well within my daily commute. My hypermiling obsession jumped to the next level and this vehicle really provided an opportunity to not use any gasoline. And generally speaking, I was quite successful; see below. Unfortunately, I had to hand over daily usage over to my daughter who needed her own transportation. She was not nearly the efficient driver I was and honestly could care less about what was powering her transportation. She just cared about getting to wherever she wanted to go; ahhh teenagers!

I was pretty happy with my 126 miles per gallon result over 10,000 miles. I was also very impressed that more than 80% of those miles were electric, and about 25% were from brake regeneration. Wow, this I find very impressive. Why isn't every car like this?

In the summer of 2015, my youngest was about to get his license and with two kids who were going to be drivers, I needed to get a third car.  A vehicle all for me, and I really wanted to go all-electric. Again, I wish I could afford a Tesla. There were a few options available and luckily I lived in California which seems to be the first place these types of vehicles get offered to the public. The choice came down between a Nissan Leaf or a BMW i3. I drove both and they were relatively similar in respect to the driver experience. The BMW looked cooler on the outside and they had done some very interesting things in the interior with reusable and recyclable materials. The range was about the same and so I was leaning toward the i3. I did the dance at the dealership and they were offering pretty attractive lease options with the introduction of this model. And so I pulled the trigger and got the i3.

In this picture I had just got the i3 and really was quite pleased with the purchase.

My two-year lease is about to conclude and I have been debating what I am going to do with my next purchase. Again I find myself coveting a Tesla but still not being able to afford either the S or X Models. And yes the Model III is coming out soon but I am not on the waiting list and need to make a decision now. The good news is I am Tesla stockholder and have done quite well, but the bad news is I will need to buy someone else's electric vehicle. I would very much like to get another i3 but their range has not significantly improved and while 70 miles was reasonable and caused no issues for probably 90% of the last two years, there are other options with longer range. The Chevy Bolt is one of those options with a range in excess of three times my current vehicle, and that is very significant. On top of it, I got the i3 when they had recently introduced it and they provided me very good lease terms. Today, they are not as aggressive despite my frankness with them that I can get effectively the same car with a significantly better range at the same and slightly lower price. I gave my BMW dealership ample opportunity to keep my business, but no luck.

I am now the proud owner of a Chevy Bolt and have had it for about two weeks. It is a nice car and as good as the i3 with some other options that are better. However, the range has proven to be a BIG difference. I have already made two trips deep into Los Angeles and back with no issues. That was not possible with the i3. This is going to work well. Two thumbs up so far. My only issue is because the battery is significantly bigger, and I will likely need to upgrade my home charging abilities and pay for a 220 volt with a good bump in amperage to make overnight charging more meaningful.

Good looking car that is very functional and has lots of good features. Now I just need my carpool stickers!

When I return this car in the summer of 2020, I expect the EV options to be significantly improved. Not a day goes by where seemingly every automaker is introducing new models or making plans for electric vehicle options; thank you Elon Musk. His vision, courage and entrepreneurial spirit have created competition within the auto marketplace. This can only mean better vehicles and more of the population going emission-free. This is good for everyone! And maybe my next EV will have significant autonomous capabilities so I won't need to drive. I am looking forward to the day when car ownership goes away and will no longer need to own and pay for a vehicle that remains idle for most of the day.

A Quest to Climb the Highest Point of Every State

I have decided to try to climb the highest point of every state in America. Why? I am not sure I have a really meaningful answer other than I enjoy hiking, it is a good way to see the country and I like a challenge.

This decision was made right around my 50th birthday so maybe one could surmise that it is the result of a mid-life crisis. And I am not sure I know what a mid-life crisis is other than the reality of death is starting to have some real meaning and for me, this a way to stall that inevitability.

This was a trip to Mt. Katahdin at a tripping camp called Pine Island that I worked at for six summers during high school and college. I love this mountain and found that I was a pretty good hiker.

In high school and college, I worked at a summer camp in Maine called Pine Island Camp that sent out a lot of hiking and canoeing trips. I enjoyed both but excelled on the trail. There were a lot of good trips that I went on, but Mt. Katahdin was my favorite. The mountain was visually stunning whether standing at the shoreline of Chimney Pond, climbing Cathedral trail, the view from the summit, traversing the Knife's Edge or descending Dudley Trail and Pamola Peak.

I haven't done much hiking between the end of college and now, but I am lucky to live close to some pretty good hiking. So recently, I have started getting into 'training' for this challenge.

So my plan is to climb each of the highest points, not peaks in each state. In most instances, the peak and point are one in the same, but in a few instances, the highest point is really a peak that splits two states and the actual peak is not in the state that you are counting, and often not the highest peak in that state; my home state of Connecticut is a good example.

I did a lot of hiking at Pine Island Camp. When I was a counselor, we would take young men all through out New Hampshire and Maine; a lot of it on the Appalachian Trail. After camp was over, some of the other counselors and I would go do trips on our own. This was at the Pinkham Notch trail head getting ready to go up Mt. Washington via Tuckerman’s Ravine.

Since this idea came about when I was fifty and I plan to do 48 states, I will need to climb about five peaks a year. I am thinking I need to have an endpoint to the challenge and I worry about my capacity to accomplish some of the harder peaks after sixty.

I do not have a specific order other than I am going to try to knock out as many of the biggest ones I can early in the process. And I will try to at least climb a couple at a time to make the associated travel costs as minimal as possible. I do not plan to do Denali in Alaska because I concede that it is beyond both my skills and capacity. So my general description is the highest points in the continental 48, although I can see adding Hawaii as both doable and a good reason to visit the state.

So away I go. You can follow my progress here or on PeakBagger.com

Mt. Katahdin was my favorite mountain and I climbed it many times. It was easily the most dramatic in my limited experience of hiking in Maine and New Hampshire. I thought I looked really cool with the red, white and blue bandana and the Ray-Bans.

Inspiration to be a better writer

I have never been a great writer and I want to be better. This is born both out of a general desire for self-improvement and maybe more importantly, to make my grandfather slightly proud. Nelson P. Farquhar was very cerebral and quite the academic. He set a high intellectual standard.

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This was after my college graduation ceremony which I am guessing was a point of pride, surprise and relief to my grandfather.

When I was in high school, English was not my best subject. I went to a good prep school and the classes were pretty rigorous. My grandfather taught at this school for most of his career as a teacher, ran the English department and was also the Headmaster for a few years as well. I am relatively certain my writing skills and grammar knowledge were disappointing to him. In an attempt to keep the family's good academic reputation in tact, he put in a considerable amount of time drilling me about writing strategies, sentence structure and lots of grammar. He was both very patient and determined. I have very clear memories of sitting at his desk, which I use now, for hours and hours in the den of his condominium.

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Well what can I say, Mr. Poirot was a bit of a ball buster, but for the most part, I earned that grade.

My grandfather would also write me letters with some regularity; a tradition that is quickly disappearing. My children and I think their generation in general, is considerably removed from the notion of communicating with a hand-written letter. Further, the skill and effort required to crank out even one page, in one shot, either by hand or using a typewriter, is something I have never witnessed and suspect they will never do. Nelson P. Farquhar was very accomplished in all forms of the written word. He would send letters pretty regularly when I was at camp, college and moved to California. Further, every major event, and often minor ones as well, would be acknowledged with a thank you note. And they were quite good in content, structure, and of course grammar; but who am I to judge the last two. He wrote to me because of his genuine affection for me, and writing letters is what his generation did. I am sure there was also a desire to show me how it was properly done. Once a teacher, always a teacher.

All of my grandfather's efforts certainly have had some benefit. Since it has been about twenty years since he passed away, my father, also very academically accomplished, has carried the torch of English, grammar and speech excellence. So to both of them, but mostly my grandfather, thank you for your persistence and help. Hopefully, all the posts that follow will reflect all his effort, to some degree.