mo in mountains

Birds of Stowe

2010-06-28T14:43:00.000-07:00

I'm quite lucky to be living in Stowe, Vermont, sandwiched between ideal diverse ecosystems. I live in a field on a river next to a hardwood forest. Sitting in my living room, I have seen the following birds on my porch:

Brewers Blackbird
Blue Jay
Chipping Sparrow

I'm using WhatBird.com to make my idendifications and will continue to do so throughout the summer.

Every girl just wants a good pair of heels

2008-11-20T15:31:00.000-08:00

Us outdoorsy girls don't often get an opportunity to dress up. Now and then we are lured into thinking that a nice boy is going to take us out to a fancy date, so we go to the nines - at least for us. A new layer of nail polish laqcured over the old, legs raw from a fresh shave, and a new tube of mascara cracked open and layered on.

Inevitably, dream boy shows up in Chaco's and a clean-ish pair of Carhartts, and you're going to Applebee's.

I'm lucky in that when I told the boy that we were going out tonight, and by going out I meant GOING OUT; his first instinct was to grab the khakis and a tie. Granted, the pants needed pressing and the tie was only so-so, but it's the effort that counts.

Of course, my own legs hadn't been shaved in a while - hey, it's winter!- so it was more like mowing a football field in august than shaving legs. An hour later I emerged from the shower, bloody and bruised having long abandoned any thought of attacking my armpits.

Digging out a dress with sleeves that wouldn't show the donut-a-day diet I've been on, I threw on a quick layer of polish that matched my gorgeous new heels. Yup, Ms. Rock-climber-don't-like-to-wash is raving about a pair of heels. I got them for $29.99 at Kohls, a fortune yet a deal all at the same time. The last time I spend over $25 on shoe's was on a pair of ice boots.

These leather, peep-toed beauties will be painful. They will give me a blister, and I will (probably) sprain my ankle tonight. But, for the five minutes of glory when I walk in the room, when people will turn their heads and say, "Is that who I think it is?", it will all be worth it.

Sunburned and Busy

2008-04-22T20:43:00.000-07:00

you know how I said I'd get better at posting more? That lasted about as long as it took for two papers and a take home exam took to get piled up.

Since last, the ice has quickly melted and somehow I'm looking at 80* weather and dry rock. I've got a few days under my belt this season, and I'm definitely hurting from the lack of training due to injury. My head also isn't in the game, making my leads all that more hairy and my TR's easier to give up on. Which, I know, is lame.

However, I still feel inspired. I got both the Squamish and the new Adirondaks guide books, and I'm psyched to get out there, and just get back in the game hard. Squamish will be amazing, and even if I'm not exactly in climbing shape for it, this internship will have me whipped into decent overall shape.

Was at Rumney this past weekend...Lord that place makes you strong fast! Such sticky rock, truly hero makers! I was leading the trip, a group of newbies, and managing a group at Rumney is definitely not the easiest thing to do. As soon as people see that you're in a group larger than four, they hate you. Hard. Then, they're constantly asking if they can pull your rope and hope on the route you JUST CLIMBED, so that they can "lead it, real quick" which always turns into them, their wife, and their mom cycling through, taking an hour out of time I could have had my whole group through and moved on. This happened twice, and we were asked a couple more times, but by then I had finally grown balls to say NO. We had more than two ropes going, three if we were alone.

Money though...this could be a tight summer. Time to start looking for a paper route!

New Shoes!

2008-02-27T13:41:00.001-08:00

So, after much deliberation, I decided to cut short the boot hunt and go with a pair of sample Kaylands I found down at OGE. So far, I love them! They are way more comfortable and warmer than the Nepal Evo's I demoed at the ice fest.

First off, let me start by saying that I've spend the last couple of weeks trying o nall of the boots I could. Because the Red Rocks trip fell through, I had the money to invest in some boots. I go to OGE one night to see what they have to offer, and I find these puppies on the consignment shelf. Now, I'm not a huge fan of OGE, I know I'm biased but I find the staff there absolutley useless. After having been told that "They're, like, totally waterproof, I like, think." (etc).

I tried them on, I think they fit. I put them on hold, go home and think about it. Now, I liked the way the Evo's fit in store, but they were only OK at actually climbing (plus, even on proform they were $250). I was a bit in between sizes, I liked the stiffness but not the fit. I really wanted to try out the Vasque M-Possibles because of the boa system, but no one within a 4 hour drive had them to try on. So I sucked it up and dropped the $170.00 on these Kaland Gioves.

So far, I'm very pleased!

New Page Photo

2008-02-19T12:22:00.001-08:00

Changed the photo at the top of the page from one a friend took in Joshua Tree to one I took of an abandoned hunting camp on the side of Big Spencer Mountain near Moosehead Lake in Maine. I've always wanted to paint it, but never have...maybe that's what I'll do tonight.

We all have rough days...but don't forget the A1 sauce.

2008-02-19T12:09:00.000-08:00

I really suck at this whole blog thing, I promise I'll try and be better at keeping up with this all.

New semester has barely started, and all of the pressure is looking towards the summer. Shall I be a responsible young adult and get an internship related to my field of study, or should I play for a summer, this being my last real summer vacation and I've worked my ass off for the last two? Suggestions, please!

The boy and I recently celebrated our 2 year anniversary. Not really sure what that means, but we're still plodding along. It will be interesting to see what happens if we do end up spending the summer apart.

Sad news from back home. My middle brother, Patrick, is 12 years old and has had pet chickens since the first grade. He went out to feed them the other morning, and found one of them, Penny (by all means a fat old wretch) dead- frozen to the wall of the coop. He's a very sensitive young man, and he called me in tears on sunday morning to tell me the sad, sad news. I offered what simple advice I could; she was in a happier place now where it never snows, where she never gets barked at by dogs, and where there's planty of grapes for her to pick at.

He hung up on me.

Later that day he called me to apologize, then handed the phone off to my father. He told me how later that afternoon, Patrick confided in him that he wanted to build a funeral pyre for teh dead hen. My father panicked, having already scraped the remains of the deceased off of the side of the coop, wrapping them in a trash bag and sinking them to the bottom of the dumpster.

"Well, you know, Patrick," he said solemnly, "That's a great idea and all...but eventually, it would start to smell like a barbeque."

PENNY, RIP
2004-2008

Wonderland

2007-12-14T09:07:00.000-08:00

Since I last wrote, not much has changed significantly, but life has certainly moved forward. The last exam of the semester is today, which will be a great relief to be over and done with. There is much i wish I had done differently this semester, maybe had tried a little harder, but there's no sense regretting the things that you can't change, only make a note for next time.

Meanwhile, snow has fallen and the water has frozen, and the ice climbing season has begun. It's my first season climbing ice, and it's absolutely wonderful. There's something beautiful about this cold pain you get as you're climbing - it hurts, but you just can't stop, because the air is so silent and the ice is so clean. There is a certain sounds that your pick makes when you land a nice solid placement, and it's an aria to the ears. The sport is full of sounds, from the dull thud of crampons on ice to the sound of shattering glass as you send sheets of ice showering down below you.

"Is there any such thing as just being whelmed?"

2007-11-06T19:23:00.000-08:00

I saw Fred Beckey, legendary first ascentionist, give a slide show talk tonight. The man is amazing, he's over 80 years old and still making first ascents all over north america. I realized a couple of things tonight. First, I absolutely love climbing, and I want to do it as much as I possibly can and be as good at it as possible, both physically and mentally. Second, his show proved that there is no need to travel to exotic locations at the far corners of the globe, there is more than enough rock and mountains right here on this continent. Third....I need a new camera so I can give slide shows all over college campuses!

Maybe one day you'll see me on a headlining book tour, but more likely we'll just pass each other on a trail somewhere.

A Breather

2007-10-30T20:07:00.000-07:00

Life finally let up a little bit today. Last night was movie night, a not-making-much-money fundraiser that is really an excuse to watch climbing movies on a giant theatre screen with crazy surround sound. It was a pretty stressful event to put together, but together it went, and everyone loved it. We actually made money this year, as opposed to last year when we didn't make enough money to cover the sodas we bought to sell as refreshments!

Then this morning I had my last midterm exam. Staying up till 3 in the morning for 4 consecutive nights really does something, because I've never had an exam go so smoothly since high school. Tonight was the last night of the class I've been teaching which has taken up way more time than it should have.

So, stress is gone, weather has turned gorgeous, and things are looking up. Still poor, and still not getting nearly enough climbing in, BUT I'm in love, I love what I do and I'll be skiing and ice climbing within a few weeks.

I've counted my chickens.

Afternoon

2007-10-23T20:31:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the best thing to ever happen in a day is getting punched in the face by a rain drop.

The storm had been approaching all day; the temperature slipping a few degrees at a time, naked trees shivered as the wind began to race. It hovered over the high, snow-dusted high peaks of the Adironaks for the early afternoon. In the few minutes between when I entered my classroom to when I left with a dissappointing grade, the clouds had raced across the broad lake and raged overhead.

I've realized that I love what I do and I love what I study, and I love who I'm going to be in the future. But the means of getting there right now are simply so frustrating, overwhelming and discouraging.

An sudden pit settled into my stomach as I ran from the classroom, clutching my exam. The pit worsened and threatened to envelope me. Bursting through the double doors, the rain that had been hesitant to fall all day slammed into my flushed face. It beat the pit out of my body and left it in a puddle at my feet.

All that was left was me and the rain.

every minute of life makes it shorter.

2007-10-18T13:45:00.000-07:00

On the way to my classes I pass the hospital. There isn't any smoking allowed on the hospital ground, so all of the staff, patients and nurses (who you'd think would know better) cross the street and puff away on the corner of the university green. Walking through the cloud of smoke a couple of times a day isn't pleasant, but the people out there sucking their butts seem like "the type"-the one's who don't suprise you when they pull a gleaming pack out of their pocket. Sometimes walking by this group really bothers me - on a beautiful fall day, I want to watch the Norway Maples finally give into the change of colors, not having it interuppted by an aggravated hack or a crackling, burned voice on a cell phone.

Lately though, a man has started making a daily appearance at the smoking ring. He isn't a nurse or a doctor or any of that: he's a patient. He sits in his wheelchair, wearing the white and blue spotted gown under a tattered red plaid dressing robe. There is a drip bag hanging from the metal stem above his with a thin plastic tube tracing downwards into his emaciated, paper thin forearm. His eyes are hollow and sunken and his whispy white hair flutters it soft breezes. His thin, long hands shake as he slowly lifts the white cigarette to his dry lips. He doesn't seem to move as he inhales, he sits still, as if forcing the smoke to travel into his lungs by sheer willpower.

At first, the man was always alone, and always at the same time of day. His felt slippers would sometimes slip down his feet and cast an afternoon shadow on the cracked and work concrete. The eyes were always empty.

One day, women started to visit him. He wouldn't talk much to them, but they seemed to dote on him. As days wore on, the sicker he seemed to get, and the more people came to visit him.

I am waiting for the day that he won't be out there, that his usual spot by the bench would be vacant.

so this is it.

2007-10-18T10:25:00.000-07:00

Why not, I think to myself. Everyone else out there has one, so why not me. I need a place to organize my thoughts, to get things down. Truth be told I can't stand keeping journals; whenever I sit down to a blank page to write about myself I find that I have nothing to say. In lieu of journals, I began to collect random thoughts and tid bits. Flashes that would enter my mind would get scribbled down on the margin of some page of notes. Inevitibly, these would be lost, and I wouldn't know the difference.

Why else? I'm not a computer person in the least. I'm not a member of generation Y or Z or whatever we're on now. I'm not doing this to become queen of the digital universe. But perhaps, just maybe, in the tumultuous times that I'm sure are about to sweep me up, having some sense of continuity with something I've created will float me through. On hellish days, maybe I can read my own words and be reminded of what really matters to me, and what I really, truly enjoy out of life.

Lastly, I suppose this is a way for me to keep in touch. I love my family and friends, but it feels as though everyone I know is exploding outwards in this ever expanding world. I'm not writing this for anyone else than myself, but maybe knowing that my parents or friends could just check in on me will be enough to make it worthwhile.