Composting Privvies - how do they work?

During my summer as a Maine Appalachian Trail caretaker, I was "privileged" to take part in an event called "a mixer".   All 4 caretakers, plus some MATC volunteers, converged on the Horns Pond shelter area for a mid-year roundtable summit, a bit of a swim, and some hard, disgusting labor.

Horns Pond is high up on the Bigelow Range, and the thin alpine soil offer the traditional outhouse/privy dynamic; the waste won't decompose due to the lower temperatures and lack of organic matter.   So, the MATC has two composing privvies.

These do not compost themselves.  This is a thoroughly disgusting process.

In early summer, the caretakers and volunteers backpack many 40-50 lb. bags of mulch up the famed Firewarden's Trail, aka the MATC Stairmaster.

There are two privvies, each set high up on the edge of a hill and over a very large galvanized tub.  The entire area behind the privvies is roped off with biohazard signs, and it's on the downhill lie from the pond and spring which serve as the water sources.  The "droppings" fall down into the tubs.   Here's where its important not to throw trash into the privvies.   When full, volunteers don goggles, aprons, thick gloves, masks, and slather Vicks Vapo-Rub under their noses for the smell, and shovel forkfulls of mulch into the "droppings", at the same time picking out the Coke cans, wine bottles, flashlights and tampons from the more biodegradable stuff.   These are all bagged in multiple layers of plastic for pack-out.   Once there's a good amount of neutral carbon-based mulch/chips turned into the droppings, they're emptied out into covered compost bins.

At this point the volunteers are pretty much done.  Throughout the process, people manning water bottles are providing drinks so that no one touches their water bottles.  The workers frequently swap rubber gloves as the fingertips literally fill and overflow with liquid sweat.  Everyone washes their boots in bleach, and changes clothes - if you do all this in full sun you end up soaked to the skin, as everything you wear is impervious.   Fortunately, the Horns Pond is nearby, and a nice chilly 50 degrees or so.

The full-time caretakers then monitor the temperature of the compost piles, ensuring that they heat up enough to kill off all the bad bacteria, turning and managing as needed.   Once this happens for enough time, the now-composted mixture is spread out on screens to dry.    As it dries, the newly formed 'soil' falls from the chips, and once dry, the chips are further rakes to further separate the new soil from the chips; the chips are used again.   The soil is then manually dispersed throughout the area.

Next time you're up near treeline and there's a privy, give silent (or vocal!) thanks to the caretakers who quite literally, shovel your shit.

Here's a video from 2014, MATC is now using a rototiller (who packed THAT up the mountain?) to do the mixing.  Not sure I entirely support the mechanized, and LOUD equipment, but it probably does a more thorough job.

Trip Report - VT 4000 footers

I spent 3 days in Vermont, bagging the 4 remaining 4000 footers (I did Pico/Killington years ago).

New gear / new hiking methods tried this trip:

• Coolmax socks + coolmax/silk liners - giving this a try since I still get these weird blisters on the outside of my heels
• Skipping breakfast and eating on the trail - you dont eat as soon as you wake up at home, why do it here?
• No candy/junk - sticking to pretzels and trailmix
• No coffee in the morning - the fresh air is all you need, plus it makes you poop

I first made my way up to the Lincoln Gap trailhead, where even the torquey TDI I drive had trouble on the 24% grade and the tight turns; I had to drop to 2nd gear to make it.   The Lincoln Gap road is the steepest paved road in America.   Of course some guys make a sport out of it - http://mountainpeakfitness.com/blog/2009-vt-6-gaps-ride !

The trail is no cakewalk either.  1.8 miles to the shelter at around 2900 feet, with most of the gain coming in the middle third.   Still, a nice walk through hardwoods most of the way, I saw a cool bright green caterpillar (I think Orthosia hibisci), and a lot of mountain aster.

I stayed at the shelter, the Caretaker was off, probably recovering from a busy Labor Day weekend.  Two section hikers rolled in around 5:30, but pushed on, to bootleg camp on one of the ski slopes.  Up around dawn, I jumped on the trail and hit the summit a few minutes after sunrise.  In an area as hilly as the Green Mountains, sunrise comes to different places at much different times.

After this, I started the ridgewalk through some ski areas and a couple of tiny cols to make it over to Ellen.

The trails in VT are great - not so steep like Maine, but not so blown-out as the ones in NH or NY.  I think it's a combination of less traffic (since the mtns aren't so sexy and high), and good trail maintainers.  Very enjoyable to walk on, some places even have leaf-litter covering the trails.  Contrast that to the High Peaks region where there are beach-ball sized boulders in the trail (Looking your way, Van Hoevenburg!).

Packed back along the ridge and down to the car, the nice thing about hiking early is that the sun is low enough that when you retrace your steps, the trail has a totally different aspect.

Wound my way down the cowpaths to Bristol for lunch, then drove up to the Huntington side of Camel's Hump.  After all, I'd done 12 miles with full pack, I might as well knock off a few more!   After collecting my thoughts I opted to do it with a daypack and come back down - the camping on Camel's Hump is WAY off ridge in either direction (E or S), and I just couldn't make myself lose all that hard-earned elevation.

Camel's Hump was hard, I guess because I started off already tired, but it was just damn steep (2400 feet in 2.4 miles).  Still, terrific trail conditions made it a lot better.   On the summit I was besieged by flying ants - apparently they ride the thermals up the hill to mate on the summit.   The summit steward(ess?) was awesome.

Once I got back down, I shared a beer and war stories with a fellow ADK46er, then drove north to Underhill State Park, where I camped for $20.  Great place, super friendly Ranger, very knowledgeable about the trails.  They mandate leashed dogs and were SO into Leave No Trace that they told people to pack out their own poop.  Not from the park of course (they had portapotties) but from the trail.

Great trail map from the State of Vermont:

http://www.vtstateparks.com/pdfs/underhilltrails.pdf

Next morning on the way up Mansfield started easily enough.

Then things got real on the Maple Ridge Trail up to the Forehead, topo map shows about 1500' in just over a mile.

Getting up to the Forehead, there was real weather rolling in from the East.   The ridgewalk became a subtle race against time as I could feel the normal thermals kicking up.

After a roadwalk past the visitor center area and gigantic radio antennae, I hit the Chin, completing my 4000 foot peakbags of VT.  Looking S, I could see the weather really coming in now.   What the still pic doesn't show is the "flow" of the clouds up and to the west (to the right):

I hung out with the Summit Steward for a while, once again a great experience, the GMC knows their stuff.  Over the time I was there she went from wearing a Tshirt and shorts to pants, a long sleeve shirt, down jacket, hat, and scarf.  Finally, I was too freezing to stay so I headed down the Sunset Ridge Trail.   On the way there's a side trip to "Cantilever Rock" which is exactly that.

The picture doesn't really do it justice.  There's a nice flat lawn under it, a good place to take a break for lunch (tortilla and cheese).

A mile or so later, it was back on the Park road and the car.

I'm definitely heading back to VT for some of the other peaks, the people were great, the trails were great, and VT is a beautiful drive.

2002 Caretaker season logs - Piazza Rock, Maine

I found my old logbook from when I was a caretaker at the Piazza Rock shelter area on the Appalachian Trail in Maine.  What a terrific experience, it really opened my eyes to Leave No Trace as a philosophy, and the overall effect that small impacts have when multiplied by hundreds.  I spoke to hundreds of people that summer, and spent a lot of time on Saddleback mountain as a summit steward, keeping people off the alpine terrain and helping preserve the blueberries and mountain cranberry for the bears.  I count "section" hikers rarely, only if they told me they were section-hiking, else, everyone was a dayhiker.

I've posted the daily hiker counts in my Google Docs, the link is here:
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1F7LPAtiOpAIcW-kr8OWH2VubHvHvb14SkHU0xe5Whro/edit?usp=sharing

Gaps exist due to time off.   I was 10 days on, 4 off.
 
As expected, a big surge of northbound thruhikers came in September, racing the closure of Katahdin.  What I had forgotten about, was a strange trickle of SOUTHbound hikers in September as well.

This tells me that if I want to climb Saddleback with minimal traffic, pick some time in early August - for a year which had the same kind of Spring as 2002!   Some years the Mountain is open early, som late.

What's funny are the notes I made, apart from weather observations and trail conditions from my ridgeruns - I had some unkind things to say about a lot of the northbounders I met, and based on my own experiences hiking, I want to say its for 2 reasons: they're very proud of themselves, and assume you know nothing about what they've experienced, and secondly, they've just made it through the Whites and the over-sanitized, restrictive rules of the AMC.   In Maine there's no fees, and the caretakers have a much different role.

My biggest official duties included cleaning graffiti from the summit of Saddleback (yep, really), chasing an ATV rider off the Trail corridor, and getting Colby college in trouble for camping above treeline.

The next time you're at a backcountry site with a privy, or there's a bog bridge, or stone stairs, or a piped spring, give a little thought to the folks who invested their time.   By providing a permanent, convenient place to camp, it focuses the impact on 1 area instead of spreading it out along the entire trail like a strip mall.

Hiking closer to home: Foster Land Trust Hayfield property

I took a few hours the other evening to do a stroll through some tame woods in Foster, RI.   The property was left to the Town Land Trust some years ago, and has recently had its old roads and game trails blazed.
The map is here.

No major elevations, just a stroll through some woods that recently were farm - you can still see stone walls, a few cellar holes, and a mill site, straddling the sleepy little Poneganset River.

Once I got to the river, I left the "official" trail and kept to a less worn trail (probably the old road) along the river.  Across the river were several fords; the land on the other side is RI DEM land, probably used exclusively by hunters.

Hearing thunder in the distance, on a hot sticky evening, I started trying to make my way back.  Minus the map, I dead-reckoned my way to a path that led to a hayfield, where I made my way along the edge.

The storm was moving in, so I picked up the pace, coming eventually to Winsor Rd, a twisty country lane in Foster, and back to the car.

I'll head back sometime to complete the trails, and definitely hit the place in the winter for snowshoeing.

Trip Report: RI North South Trail

Over the holiday weekend I thru-hiked the Rhode Island North/South Trail, a 78 mile path from the Atlantic Ocean to the RI/MA border in Burrillville, RI.

Total time: approx 3.5 days
Total mileage: approx 80 miles including travel from the trailhead

If you JUST want pictures, the full album is here (on my personal server, ignore the self-signed cert warning):
https://vmeps.schernau.com/photos/main.php?g2_itemId=1851


Overall, a great time, I saw a lot of wildlife, encountered some nice people, saw some interesting relics of settlement, and got to really see the terrain and weather changes as you move away from the coast.   The biggest takeaway is that this is not a hike, it's a walk.   I could count the # of times I got out of breath due to terrain with one hand.  Walking this long on this kind of low elevation gain trails is more an exercise in blister and boot management, than it is a test of endurance.   Contrast this with a trip in the mountains of Maine or New York, where you're more often than not limited by your lungs.  At least I am, your mileage may vary.

There's a lot of roadwalking, I mean a lot, one stretch is over 11 miles.  If this is not your thing, then skip the trip.

If you can, find the Cliff Vanover book, available from Great Swamp Press.  You can do it without the book, or even without maps, but there's neat info in there, and has a good section for off-trail resources such as local campgrounds.  The signage is aggressive, overly so.   Instead of the 'double blaze' at trail forks, it's everywhere you make a turn, even if there's nowhere else to go.   It's often accompanied by a plastic N/S Trail sign, with arrows drawn on in marker.  You CANNOT get lost.

There's also no legal on-or-near-trail camping, except in the northern section where it goes right through a state campground.   Bootleg camping is not permitted.   I will leave this as an exercise to the reader.   As always, follow LNT principles.

Water can be a challenge.  I carried at most a gallon, and only dipped down into my emergency quart once.   There's only a few places where you can get free clean water, so carry at least something like iodine, and consider a water filter, as the water you find might be contaminated with suburban or rural runoff - oil, fertilizer, etc.

Day 1: Charlestown RI, the Blue Shutters Town Beach
I got dropped off at 6:30 at the beach parking lot.   The first few miles were a roadwalk through a nice neighborhood, complete with joggers and dogwalkers.   After a mile or two, my feet started to feel the pain of walking on asphalt.

The trail quickly moves into woods roads and state hunting/management areas, a mix of dirt road and trail.   At one point you pass through a sod farm.   The eerily flat/smooth soil and stench of nitrogen was unpleasant.

There's a nice pond/beach area at mile 11.93.

Day 1 ends with a long roadwalk, then a walk along the old highway, the New London Turnpike, now a dirt road under power lines, littered with trash like broken TVs.   From here the roar of I-95 is omnipresent.   You cross under it later, and for a while walk along it - at least its visible through some trees.

Shortly after this you enter the Arcadia Management area.

It was here I encountered trail magic!   A woman stopped her truck and gave me a fistful of "sweet fern", which when crushed and rubbed all over, repels mosquitoes and deerflies.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comptonia

A note on bugs:

Deerflies, blackflies and mosquitoes are a constant challenge.   One thing I discovered is that by wearing a floppy straw hat that covers the ears, and good sunglasses, the deerflies cannot divebomb your ears, and the blackflies cannot fly into your eyes.   If you can steel yourself to hearing the deerflies endlessly circle, and the blackflies bouncing off your sunglass lenses, it's not too bad.

In the Arcadia Mgmt area, there's a beautiful pond/brook called Roaring Brook Pond.  This is at around mile 25.5.   One should always camp near a water source - but of course not too near!

Day 2:  Mostly Arcadia, then into Moosup Valley/Coventry/Foster

Arcadia is great, especially when there's not a lot of people.   Hiking through at 7am is a great time.   Hawks, deer, songbirds, and the bugs not too bad.

At Stepstone Falls I stopped and took a brief nap, and was amazingly recharged.   I think 10-15 minute naps are going to be my new thing.

Moving through and out of the area, I crossed through the old Escoheag Ski area.   There's some random machinery in the woods still, and here's the parking lot.

Then a long roadwalk, uphill.   But, after passing an area recently cleared to provide Cottontail habitat, I hit the halfway mark!

Through here, the gypsy moth caterpillar devastation is so great, it's winter.  Not only have they stripped the oaks, but the undergrowth/blueberry thickets as well.   Bears will go hungry, so people of western RI, lock up your trash extra tight.  I hate gypsy moths and tent caterpillars.

Coming out of here, some more walking and you cross the Moosup River on a high trestle bridge.   You're at about mile 40 here.  At this point the trail goes past a beautiful pond, Carbuncle Pond, where I took a nice long 2 hour break.   My feet were blistered heavily at this point, so I didn't swim, but I got all new water, and had a bit of a wash.

I live sort of near here, and at this point there's no state owned land for another 20 miles, so I pushed on, figuring I'd eat miles and walk as far as I could to split up the next 12 miles of roadwalk.  You pass through little hamlets like Rice City and Vaughn Hollow.

On the old Plainfield Pike (the other highway) I passed one of the old toll houses.  20 miles to Providence, if I wanted to walk there.

Trudging along (really trudging at this point, all roadwalks, 40+ miles in 2 days, just wanting to sit or sleep), I got to the historic village of Moosup Valley in Foster, where my ride awaited at mile 46.

Day 3:  Foster-Glocester (July 4)

More roadwalking, down 1 lane country roads and past farms.   You can tell its an election year.

At mile 53 you cross Interstate 6, the busiest road so far, but early morning it's not too bad.  At the Shady Acres restaurant I had a nice, shady break, complete with coffee, a muffin, and a tiny nap.   I got to watch a group of Revolutionary War re-enactors muster in the parking lot, then climb into a car and drive off somewhere.  A brief trip back into the woods by an old shingle mill, then its back onto the road for more miles.

Entering the Killingly Pond area, you cross into Connecticut briefly.   This park was awful, really beat up roads, nothing smooth, but nothing soft because its stripped to the rocks, and you walk through a "wonderful hemlock forest", which as everyone knows, is code for 'dark, mucky, and full of mosquitoes".

Emerging back onto the asphalt, I went through some rural neighborhoods until I got to the Oak Leaf Campground, at around mile 62.   At this point it was midday, and about 85 degrees, so I stopped at the camp store for some cold drinks.  An hour later, saddled back up and did the 4 mile trip through the Durfee Management area to the George Washington Management Area, at around mile 66.5.   Durfee was pretty bad, roads tough, muddy, and plagued by ATVs.

For $14 I got a campsite at the state campground at George Washington, and was then reminded of the perils of staying in a public campground on July 4.   Dogs, generators, and fireworks.   At this point I'd done 66 miles in 3 days, much of it on roads, and most of it in 80+ weather.  The blisters at this point were torn open and lets just say, painful.  

And then the rains came.   Fortunately I had some raingear, and had staked the tent well.   

Day 4: To the end

The rains lasted until around 9:30 on the morning of the 5th, at which point it started to get warm.   Dreading the combination of wet woods, hemlock groves, and 80 degree weather, I rebandaged my feet and saddled up.   Here the trail follows a set of other trails known as the Walkabout Trail, but thanks to the aggressive signage, you can't get lost.

Working through the Management Area, it started to feel a little more like hiking.  Some ups and downs, nothing major, but the terrain started to lose its sameness, and being off even a dirt road gave it a more rural feel.   The start and the end of the trail are definitely the best parts for that.

Coming out into another neighborhood and passing some powerlines, you come to the final road crossing, where you move into the Buck Hill Management Area.   This is the Maine of the trail - totally away from anything, steeper ups and downs, blueberry thickets, and bugs.

I got to a trail register, and knew I was nearly there.   Feet sore, hot, tired, I was instantly invigorated and pushed on.

Through more wet blueberry thickets (these untouched by caterpillars), I stumbled out onto a dirt road, and reached the end.

A two mile hike through the Management Area, past a neat wildlife marsh complete with beavers, and my ride awaited.

Final thoughts:

Would I do it again?   Probably not, certainly not the same way.   I might try to combine it with a bike ride.   The roadwalking really wasn't fun.   Not because of cars, or annoying dogs, simply because of the physical impact of walking on asphalt.

Glad I did it?  Absolutely.  I've wanted to do this since the trail was built.

Rhode Island is really a neat state.   Within 40 miles you have a capitol city full of universities, you have both the bay and ocean beaches, and you have some beautiful wooded areas to explore.  No real climbs, no summits, no real views except for in rare instances, but it's like going back in time.   At one point almost all of RI was cleared farmlands, now you see the cellar holes, the stone walls, and newer things like ski resorts that closed 40 years ago.   You get to walk through old hamlets like "Wood River Junction" and "Vaughn Hollow" where probably everyone knows everyone.  There's wildlife everywhere.   Best of all, if you're from here, getting to any of these trails or getting a ride back is an easy <1 hour drive.  Get out and go hiking!

Looking to improve your hiking performance? Drop some weight

Gear
Most people, even active people, could stand to lose a few pounds.   While there's a lot of time spent on gearmongering and swapping steel for titanium, let's look at what weighs what.  "A pound on the foot is like 5 on the back" they say.   What about "a pound off the belly is a pound off the back?"

Looking at my pack weight thread here and my Google docs spreadsheet for my base weight is just under 15 lbs.

Personally, I could lose 10 lbs.   That means I could add 10 lbs of food and water to my base weight, and do an overnight with essentially an empty pack.   That's huge!

Also, generally the process of losing weight is going to build up your strength, which means more miles, and more, BETTER miles.   You don't want to drag ass into camp at dusk, miserable and winded.   A light pack and fit legs are the best way to do this.  Spare energy and a good attitude go a long way towards making it easy to Leave No Trace.   You won't be tempted to take shortcuts, leave microtrash or food crumbs, if you've still got something left in the tank at the end of the day.

Water
I generally start off with a 70oz Platypus and whats left of breakfast in a Nalgene.   Combined that's about 5lbs of water.   Want to carry that for free?  Lose 5lbs - it's really not that hard.

This winter and spring the focus will be dropping weight, for higher performing summer hiking.

November hiking - Ampersand, Seymour, Tabletop and Rocky Peak Ridge

Hitting the summit of Rocky Peak Ridge on November 17, 2015, I finished all 46 of the Adirondack High Peaks.   24+ years in the making, done.   I can't believe it, but I'm already planning my next trip - a 5 day traverse of the whole High Peaks region, from Coreys to Elizabethtown.

I arrived at the Ampersand trail head at around noon on Saturday, and immediately was struck by the cold.  I brought both spikes and snowshoes, not knowing what to expect.  The first section of trail was easy, smooth sailing over the frozen mud.  And then the climb began.   I switched to spikes about halfway up.

 

The summit was brutal, I met a bunch of other hikers on the way who didn't go all the way up.  Wind and fog, rime ice everywhere.

Back down around 3, just enough time to head to the cafe in Lake Placid for a sandwich, then back to the trailhead to camp.   There's a supposedly pay campsite on the shore of Middle Saranac Lake, but it was off-season.  An easy .6 miles (wearing orange because it's hunting season, and I found a nice out-of-the-wind spot for the tent.   The wind off the lake was chilly, to say the least.

The next morning I drove through Coreys and parked.  Surprisingly, there were people there ahead of me.   The 5.4 miles into Ward Brook Leanto were a cakewalk - frozen trail, beautiful sun on the frozen trees, milder weather, no wind.  Really just perfect hiking.

Then the fun began, the 'trailless' climb up.   It was mostly obvious, I got turned around only twice.

The ice on the blown out rock slides was vicious, some places an inch thick.  Thank you Microspikes!

Back down, only wiping out once or twice, and back to the car by 4.   At this point I drove back through Lake Placid to the Ausable Inn in Keene Valley for a beer and some dinner.   Then on to Meadows Lane outside the Adirondak Loj, where I tented alone, and in the dark under headlamp.   It's free camping on DEC land, this time of year totally deserted.  Normally the sites are all taken, as you can't camp at the Loj.

Parked at the Loj and started in on what might be my last hike for a while.   Mixed emotions when I got to Marcy Dam and remembered how it used to be a beautiful lake. 

Up the Van Hoevenberg highway to the 'unmarked' trail (complete with sign) to Tabletop.   Hop skip and a jump up, and I was there.    Great weather, little wind, bright sun.  Awesome views.

Back to Indian Falls right around noon for lunch, where again I had mixed emotions.  How many times had I drawn water there, or stopped and rested for lunch?

Back down the highway to the Dam for a long rest in the sun.   By now it was close to 50 degrees, and the trails over the last few days had turned into swamps in the afternoon sun, so the boots were soaked.  Took about an hour rest including a nap on the old dam, while my feet dried.   Sadly saddled up, and took a slow stroll back to the car, right as the temps really started to sink.

A hiker told me "tonight the temperatures are really going to drop" - no way I was camping in the cold again, so I hit the hostel in Keene Valley.   At this time of year it was empty, but they also hadn't done laundry, and the beds weren't made.   Weak, for $25, if you ask me.   At night, and on Monday nights especially, the town of Keene Valley essentially closes, so it was a quiet dinner of mac and cheese in the hostel.
Up at 6, on the road by 6:30, I got to the Chapel Pond trailhead for Giant at about 7.

Climbing Giant is like doing a 3 mile stairmaster, it's 3 miles and 3000 feet up.   That qualifies as 'steep' in my book.

Here's the Washbowl, frozen.  Up, up, more up, some great exposed ledges where the sun was melting the ice, and up some more to the junction.   A sharp right, and you head down a goat path towards Rocky Peak Ridge.   Took a serious wipeout on the way down, as the spikes failed me, and I went head over heels and crashed at the bottom of a rock face.   Ouch.   Pretty icicles though.

Through a nice col and a short climb up, and I hit the summit.   Done!   After 24 years, I'd hit all the High Peaks.   Beautiful weather, 45-50, not a breath of wind, no clouds.

This is why I saved this for last.  This exact scenario.  The view of everything.

On the way down, again skipping Giant (having done it), I took a page from Frost and from Baggins, and took the Roaring Brook Trail down towards St. Huberts.   Much easier, and beautiful hiking through immense pines.   Highly recommended over the Zander trail.   Got to the parking area near St. Huberts at around 3.   5 minutes and 9 cars later, my hiker trash karma kicked in, and I got a hitch back to my car, and then signed out.   At this point, so tired, so hungry.  And by now the sun had dipped behind the peaks, and it was FREEZING.  I had 1 more thing to do on the way to Keene Valley for dinner; there's a huge waterfall on the road near St. Huberts, but the sun almost never hits it - that is, unless it's late afternoon.   Perfect timing!

Boy the Adirondacks are beautiful.
 


    Upon the hearth the fire is red,
    Beneath the roof there is a bed;
    But not yet weary are our feet,
    Still round the corner we may meet
    A sudden tree or standing stone
    That none have seen but we alone.
--Bilbo Baggins


Fall and late Fall hiking are now my favorite time to be up there - despite the cold, you have the trails to yourself, there's no bugs, and if you catch the weather right, there's nothing better.

It's been amazing, boiling water at Lake Colden back when you could have fires there, climbing the Trapdike, doing the Dix Slide as my first trailless peak, finding out after I did it that there was a thing called The Great Range, watching sports and arguing politics with people in the Ausable Inn, and having summit after summit to myself over the years.  A great adventure.