Solid hike...

Friday, August 7, 2015
I had promised someone I’d be available to get together for dinner, but they weren’t sure they could make it and by the time I determined it wasn’t going to happen, it was too late to do a decent bike ride.  I was thinking I’d must make some dinner and spend some time writing, blowing off a workout, when my conscience jumped in and pushed me towards the car.

“Want to go to the park, Dakota?” Like there was ever a moment in her life that she didn’t want to.  She bounded into the car with agility that belied her ten years.

It was 7:30 when I arrived and with the shortening of summer days, that meant about an hour of daylight.  Not enough, but walking in the dark didn’t really bother me.  I strapped on the pack and began my first set of step-ups on the boulder next to my car.  It’s a 16-inch step, which, after 30 step-ups per leg, leaves me gasping and with trembling quads.  I counted off the last step and began moving down, or up, the trail. 

The first quarter mile is uphill and after a set of step-ups, it hurts.  Often times I imagine how through hikers must suffer on days they’re going 15-20 miles with full packs over multiple peaks.  My step-ups pale in comparison.

I stopped multiple times throughout the 4-mile hike and totaled 400 step-ups.  It took 90 minutes and left me parched, drenched in sweat, and shaking.  All a good thing.  Dakota was tired, too, and struggled back into the car for the ride home.

I blended up another delicious fruit smoothie for dinner and collapsed onto my sofa.  I watched a documentary on the climbing of K2, the world’s second highest mountain and possibly the most difficult to climb.  Watching the tribulations associated with that type of climbing again confirmed my total disinterest in that sport.  Give me the Adirondacks any day.

Hike Duration: 90 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 90-150 bpm.
Calories burned: 900.

The perfect farm storm...

Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Some days you just know you should never have gotten out of bed.

We’ve had excavators working at the farm to repair the carriage trails washed out by the flood three weeks ago for the last two weeks.  They were working by our pond, putting the road back together where the pond had breached its banks and overflowed and digging a new trench to install a second culvert pipe to handle future floods.  They needed to work with their excavator on both sides of the pasture fence and that meant taking their equipment around to the gate to get in.

“I can drive it around John, but that will take over an hour of moving it back and forth.  What I’d really like is to just go right through the fence here and save all that time,” the operator said.

Time for an executive decision.  I know a little bit about how these things typically work – the amount of hours the excavator is operating times some flat rate and there’s your bill.  I didn’t want the farm to pay him to drive the equipment back and forth.

“We’ll cut the fence, Jerry, but we’ll have to put it back together before the day’s over because we have to turn the horses out tonight and I’m pretty sure they’d walk through any gaping holes we’d leave,” I said.

It was the answer he wanted, so Justin and I got out the cutters and he had is entrance to the area he needed to work.

By noon he was finished and we began the process of putting it back together.  Things like this never go smoothly and so when the auger on the back of the tractor (a big corkscrew that bores holes for a fence post) broke, we knew we’d be digging by hand.  That’s not really a big deal if you’re digging in dirt, but we weren’t digging in dirt.

“This shit is like granite,” I said as I pounded the posthole digger into more rock.  We grabbed the spud bar and tried to break it up, but finally reached a point where dynamite would be more appropriate.

“This is as deep as it’ll go,” I said.

“:But the fence post will stick up a foot higher than the ones around it and everyone will know that we didn’t put it in deep enough,” Justin said.

“That’s why God made chainsaws, Justin.  We lop off the top, dump a bag of cement in the hole and strap off the fence to the posts down farther,” I replied.

He agreed that it would work that way and really, what other choice did we have?  We needed the chainsaw, so jumped in the gator to pick it up and to check on the hay delivery scheduled for one.  We were hoping to be done before it arrived and would have if we hadn’t found the rock shelf from hell,

Back at the shop, I went to check on the hay.  It was right on time.  “Why don’t you ask them if they can put it up themselves because we HAVE to get that fence done,” I suggested.

He returned and said, “they need our help.  Only brought two guys.”

So we went to the loft to take delivery on 180 bales, which should take about 40 minutes because of the distance we needed to move each bale in the loft.  I looked down at the trailer, noted the size and height of the bales and called down to Eli, the guy delivering.

“That looks like a hell of a lot more than 180 bales,” I said.

“That’s because it’s 270,” he replied.  Justin and I looked at each other and the space we had to put it and shrugged.  “Guess we’ll be stacking a little higher,” he said.

An hour later we were back in the pasture, sweaty and tired.  The fence took another two hours and we were close to done when we realized we had to talk to the excavator on a road issue.  Driving towards his new location and looking down the service road in front of us, I noticed something out of place.

“I’m pretty sure that tree wasn’t laying across the road on and our pasture fence when we drove in this morning,” I said.

Justin looked…his mouth hanging open.  “That’s a problem,” he said.

He knew I had a doctor’s appointment for my heel and a date after that and that I was trying to get out a little early.  A little early had passed an hour ago and now we had tree surgery to perform.  “You go.  I can handle this,” he said.

“I appreciate that, buddy, but I’m not leaving until that tree is off the fence and out of the road,” I replied.  We grabbed the chainsaw.

An hour later, I was as dirty and sweaty as I could be.  I’d moved over 10,000 pounds of hay, pounded rock with a spud bar, lifted tree limbs and dumped them in the woods and done other miscellaneous physical tasks.  I evaluated the work day and knowing that I didn’t have time to work out, decided I’d done enough not to feel guilty about it. 

What went wrong. How to fix it.

Monday, August 3, 2015

It was the first day back from the Adirondacks with the knowledge that I’d been in the worst shape I’d ever been in for a trip there.  And I was more than a little disgusted with myself.

I’m not sure what has happened to me since Tour Ohio, but I know taking the job with the YMCA coupled with my divorce put me in a place that left me disinterested in my training regimen.  I continued to do it, but without the conviction I’ve had for so many years.  I refuse to use such incidences as excuses, but I know I lost some direction and motivation and once gone, it can prove elusive to recapture. 

Fast-forward to July of 2015 and you will find a man climbing bleachers with a 40-pound pack strapped to his back desperate to get into some kind of hiking shape.  Well…I didn’t have enough time and so it didn’t work.

I probably would have been fine if I hadn’t started up that peak on Friday last at the pace I’ve used since I first went to the Adirondacks.  I have basically one hiking speed.  It’s reasonably fast and very steady.  I don’t stop, either.  I just let my heart pound faster for periods of really steep ascents and then catch my breath when it levels out.  That is not such a good approach when your conditioning level is about fifty percent of what it usually is for that pace.  I did it for about thirty minutes.  Then I crashed and burned.

So…time to fix that.  I met Savannah at the park and quickly pulled my pack from the trunk, strapped it on, and did step-ups on a boulder next to the car – twenty per leg.

As we hiked, I found other places to do more step-ups and by the time I was ready to get back into the car, had done 200.  I’ll build on that over the next several weeks, probably toping out around 600.  When I can do that, I will again be charging up mountain trails instead of stopping and trying to catch my breath on shaking legs. 

Hike/step-up duration:  75 minutes.

Training Heart Rate:  100-150 bpm.

Calories burned during workout:  650.

Travel day

Sunday, August 2, 2015
After a breakfast of French toast with cousins Donnie and Pat, I climbed into the Toyota for the ride home.  The eight-hour drive with an audio book is no big deal to me and I knew family dinner would not be a problem as the ‘family’ would be preparing it for me.

I felt good after two days of hiking and climbing, but knew that more serious peaks would have done me in.  I’m in terrible shape for me, which is the only barometer I pay attention to.  In two weeks I’ll be heading back and plan to use that time to build the base a little wider.  Carrying a pack in the woods and doing step-ups, biking, and bleacher workouts will fill these pages and push me back to where I need to be to tackle some serious outings in September.  That’s the plan for now and it’s a good one.  Let’s hope the body cooperates and life doesn’t conspire to get in the way.

Hopkins Mountain and easier hike

Saturday, August 1, 2015

I’d sat by my campfire the night before thinking about what I’d be doing the next day.  My heel was hurting some, which meant I could wake up unable to walk.  The opposite happened, thankfully.

I rolled out of the tent around 5 a.m. to pull the rainfly on.  It had started to drizzle, but petered out by the time I was back in the sleeping bag.  Adirondack storms blow in rather unexpectedly, so I left it in place.  I was up an hour later and had all my gear stowed in the car by 6:30 for the drive to Noon Mark diner and the day’s hiking plan.  My table was still empty when I arrived.

“Coffee,” I said in answer to the question ‘what’ll it be?’

I pulled out my trail book and map and decided on a peak seldom visited call Mt. Hopkins.  It was a longer hike, three miles from the trailhead to the peak, but the elevation change of 2,000 feet would be more spread out and easier to handle.  I ate my blueberry pancakes smothered in butter and real New York state maple syrup before heading for the trailhead.

I was the only car parked at the trailhead as I entered the forest and figured I’d be the only person on that trail.  It was a beautiful hike through miles of large conifers, some old growth.  The sun filtered through them to the forest floor, providing and golden glow to my gradual, uphill trek.  I was alone with my thoughts and the only sounds were those of my shoes and a thrush of some variety.

The trail was perfect for out of shape hikers, climbing gradually over the first two miles.  My heel reminded me it was still not healed, but was completely manageable.  The final ascent offered some challenging pitches, but nothing that left me as breathless as I had been 24 hours earlier.  I reached the peak after two hours of hiking and found it to offer open views in every direction and deserted, the perfect combination.

I wasn’t as sweaty as I had been the day before and the since the winds were not as fierce, I was able to stay on the peak longer to enjoy the solitude and the views.  I had brought my rain jacket, both for warmth if needed and to wrap my camera should it start to rain at any point (I’d just get wet), but didn’t need it, either.  I made several calls and sent pictures of the views to interested parties…including my facebook page…before noticing a storm developing and heading back to the tree line and the descent.  John called just as I was hitting the trees.

“Hey man…how’s the heel?”

“I just left the peak and it’s the climb for us if you’re not feeling in shape when we come back here in two weeks.  Great views and a steady, but doable elevation change.  Heel’s a little sore,” I replied.

“I’m a fat slob.  I’m riding tonight, but yeah, easy is better.  You just did that one though.  You want to hit it again?”

“The views from this peak is amazing.  I could climb up here every day and never get tired of it,” I replied.  And meant it.

Ten minutes into the descent, I heard the rain hitting the canopy high above my head.  I stopped, pulled my rain jacket from my pack, wrapped the camera in it and stuffed it into my pack.  I’d take the pictures I’d wanted on the way up and I wanted the camera dry.

I was back to the car five hours after leaving, sweaty and dirty.  I was driving north to Donnie’s and needed to clean up first so I grabbed my towel and a change of clothes and made my way down to the river running just below the parking lot.  The water was cool and the rocks sharp on my bare feet, but the plunge felt refreshing and the dirt was soon washed away.  I arrived in Massena by way of Potsdam and an hour visit with my aunt and uncle, who needed to hear about my climb and my love life.  At least the story of the climb was interesting.

I ate leftovers at Donnie’s and heard all about the failure of the motorcycle and the ensuing crash and recovery, still ongoing.  I made a batch of chocolate milkshakes followed my maple syrup milkshakes to be sure that I consumed more calories than I’d burned in the previous two days of hiking.  I spent some time answering messages on their laptop before rolling out my sleeping gear on the family room floor and crashing.

Hike Duration: Four hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90-150 bpm.
Calories burned: 2,800

Noonmark Mountain

Friday, July 31, 2015

As a child, desserts were a very, very uncommon experience in the Rolf household.  With six kids and a limited budget, I’m sure my dad felt such things unnecessary.  We did, however, always get cake and ice cream on birthdays and it may be the reason those dates are burned into my head.  I loved desserts and still do.

Happy birthday, Cristin.  I hope things are well in Anchorage and before too long I will be paying you and extended visit.  It’s on my bucket list and I’m not getting any younger.

I slept until six or so and slowly rose to test my heel.  Slight pain, but I’d completed two Iron Man competitions and lived through kidney stones a year ago.  I would be climbing…and maybe whining.

I packed the car and drove to the Noon Mark Diner prepared to stare down anyone foolish enough to be sitting at MY table.  I walked in the door at seven to find it reasonably empty and no one in my spot.  Damned good thing.

I had copious cups of coffee and a ham and cheese omelet while studying my map and trail guide.  I obsess over these things when I’m climbing, almost committing the trail to memory.  There was no water source on the hike, so I made sure to top off my camelback before leaving the restaurant. 

I made my way to the trailhead in no particular hurry.  I figured the climb would take around two hours and allowing for an hour on top and taking pictures, I would be back to the car in five. 

The trail didn’t mess around.  It left the road steeply and stayed that way.  I saw two young climbers leave ten minutes ahead of me, but overtook them in thirty minutes. 
“Are you climbing Noonmark?’ one asked.

“Yeah…see you at the top?”

They said they would, but I had my doubts.  They were moving slowly and didn’t look to be in the best shape. 

Neither was I and it started slowing me by the end of the first hour.  I noticed my legs were shaking and I was getting light-headed.  Since I like to stand on the edge of precipitous drops for cool pictures, it could be an issue.

For the second time in my life, I began considering not completing a climb.  The first had been during a severe thunderstorm above the tree line on Wright Mt. after an exhaustive climb.  On that trip, I’d huddled behind a boulder on the open face of the peak about 100 yards short of the summit and fallen asleep for ten minutes.  I completed that climb and was determined to complete this one.  I pushed on.

The last 400 yards were particularly steep and needed three points of contact most of the time.  The wind was whistling over 40 mph and because I’d soaked through my clothes with sweat, was beginning to get cold as the gusts pulled away my body heat.  And then I was on the top.  It was a beautiful, open-faced peak with views in all directions.  I removed my pack and slumped to the ground, retrieving my camera and cell phone to commemorate the visit.  I had it to myself for twenty minutes before a set of climbers from Montreal joined me.  We took turns photographing each other with our own cameras and then I left so they could have it to themselves. 

The return trip was also exhausting and by the time I reached the car, my heel was on fire and I was punchy.  I never did see the couple I'd passed early on in the hike and assumed they'd realized it was a tougher peak than anticipated and turned around.  I have work to do before returning.  The Adirondack trails are completely unforgiving to those foolish enough to hike them when out of shape.

Hike Duration: Four hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90-150 bpm.
Calories burned: 2,800

On the road...

Thursday, July 30, 2015

I thank you for the kindness
And the times when you got tough
And, papa, I don't think
I said, "I love you" near enough. 

‘Leader of the Band’ by Dan Fogelberg

I suppose I am no different in remembering the birthdates of significant people in my life and today my father would be 87.  I cannot understate the impact and influence he had on making me the man I am today…for better or worse.  I owe him a debt I can only repay by being a good dad and person to those less fortunate than me.  He was a man of honor code that he lived by to the day he died.  I try to do the same.

I drove through the night anticipating tomorrow’s climb and wondering how my heel would react and what my level of conditioning would mean.  My goal was Noonmark Mountain and the topo map and trail description told me it was a hand full.  The trail to the peak is only two miles, but with over 2,000 feet of elevation change, it would be steep almost every step of the way.  My training has been sporadic at best and with little riding, muscle endurance in the legs would be circumspect. 

I rolled of I87 ten miles south of Keene Valley around midnight and headed straight for the campsites just off the freeway and along the river.  To my dismay, they were occupied, so I drove into town and the public parking lot where I have spent many a night by the side of my car in a sleeping bag and gazing into the big skies of the North Country.  This night offered a luminous full moon and little opportunity to witness the vastness of stars in the heavens.  It was cool and a dew was settling upon me as I nodded off to sleep.