So I bought this backpack at the REI in San Diego roughly 70 miles in to a PCT hike last year. The Granite Gear pack I had was a perpetual pain in my shoulder. OUCH! I tried on TONS of packs at REI and used my actual backpacking gear that I had with me to do all my testing. In the end I settled on this pack for comfort. I absolutely refuse to be uncomfortable while backpacking. The sales fella recommended selecting for comfort over looks - which in this case is a big deal - this pack looks like a house - it's HUGE and I don't have big or bulky gear. As a long distance backpacker I tend to have smaller, lighter stuff, but the lightweight backpacks are dreadfully uncomfortable. So, I bought the pack that will always fit a smorgasbord.
The sales guy made an impassioned pitch about how REI staff had recommended to the pack designers that there be a side access zipper to the body of the pack. I wish they hadn't. For one, the zipper is located under the compression straps which makes it difficult to even use when the pack is packed & cinched. Secondly, I always line my backpack with a trash compactor bag because it's the best way to waterproof (and there's never a need for a pack cover this way). Once the pack has the vapor barrier of the trash compactor bag both the zippered access to the "sleeping bag compartment" and the full-length side access zipper are pretty much dead weight that I can’t jettison.
Speaking of the sleeping bag compartment: Have you seen it? It’s HUGE! REI doesn’t even sell sleeping bags that could completely fill that space, do they? I undo the divider between the sleeping bag space and the rest of the pack so I have a continuous cylinder to fill up.
Now that gripe is done I’ll give some shout outs to the real strengths of the pack. The extension collar is ample, and I like the way it nests inside the outer closure. I love the four-way stretch pouch on the front of the pack that has the two zippered pockets attached to it. That pouch is handy and designed in a way that stuff doesn’t escape. I have mixed feelings about the twin zippered pockets on the front. I like the organizational aspect of them, but the curve in one of the zipper’s path has failed me where the teeth have separated from the rest of the zipper fabric. I toy with whether or not I actually need or want these pockets on the front.
The pocket on the hipbelt is handy. As someone who didn’t use a water bladder and tube for 1,000 miles on the PCT I hiked I really really appreciated the water bottle pockets on this pack. I could actually load and unload my water bottles from the pockets while hiking without getting assistance from others. J The adjustable tension on the pockets, their angle, and their girth are big pluses.
This pack easily carried the large bear canister I had with me through the Sierras. I could even lay it down rather than having to carry it vertically the way a number of smaller, lighter packs require.
I’ve tried a number of women’s specific packs but they rarely feel good on my shoulders. Either my shoulders are broad or pack designers are making packs for a mini-me type female standard. In either event it is hard as hell to get a salesperson to even let you try on a men’s pack much less sell you one. In this regard this pack has a descent span between the shoulder straps so it’s not creeping up my neck and giving me aches. I prefer to carry any load on my hips and this pack allows me to opt to do that or to transfer and distribute between my shoulders and hips.
I guess that’s my overall impression of this pack. As much as I’d love to see things improved or changed with this pack ultimately it is a great pack. It’s comfortable. I can cinch it down to fit my load. It’s made of durable material. My head doesn’t hit the back of the pack (yay!) leading me to jut my head forward.
Personally, I wish that the width of the pack was narrower. While I have wide shoulders and womanly hips, my middle isn’t too big and when I swing my arms they don’t clear the pack. So, in short (after all that!) this would be a dream pack if it lost the side access zipper, the sleeping bag compartment zipper, were narrower, and if the twin pockets on the outside didn’t have a curve in the zipper function.
Oh, and PS – one last piece of important information – my load. Fully loaded with five days of food my pack weighed in at 32 lbs. (which includes the 4.5 lbs of this pack – without the top pouch that I’ve never carried).
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
Trails: To Be or Not to Be
Trails on the ground give me hope. They point me in a direction. When I’m on a trail, I’m on a path to a destination. But, the common wisdom among hikers is that it’s not the destination that matters as much as the journey. It’s walking that has allowed me to expand my calm through a sort of meditative state, stand face to face with wildlife, read the weather, learn the trees, and breathe deeply to take in the sweeping views. I gain the perspective of time ticked out in birdsong rather than cell phone rings. For the time it takes me to tap out this entry on my computer, I certainly could have walked a mile, perhaps three.
Trails in the wilderness hearken back to a slower time. Trails help us look back to see things the way they might have been.
This is in part what National Scenic and Historic Trails have to offer – a step back in time as we move along their paths. That is what I find exciting. The path provides the avenue through which we can connect people to these places and their history.
Congress has designated nineteen National Historic Trails since 1978. All to often though they are trails in name only.
While there are efforts being made to interpret specific sites along the route, the route itself is an anomaly. As an example, people can visit some of the Spanish missions along the route of the 1774-1776 Anza Trail route between Culiacan Rosales, Mexico and San Francisco. Today there are but brief sections of the Trail that can be retraced.
Similarly, the historic trade routes from Santa Fe to Los Angeles, now the Old Spanish Trail lights upon paths used by American Indians, fur and livestock traders, soldiers and merchants, but its interpretation and visitation is largely at road waysides and museums. Organizations and Federal partners are focused on verifying the historical importance and site-specific significance rather than laying a path that resembles or retraces the route itself.
These trails are largely a memory. They are history recorded in journals. They are debris buried in the earth over time. They are wayside exhibits of arduous journeys. These are but illusive examples of what life was like. A path that connects the significant points for present-day travelers makes it real.
There’s conflicting interest in establishing on the ground trails. Some advocate that the history of the trails is the most important aspect. These people feel that there need not be a trail on the ground for the history of the line to be shared with people. You don’t have to walk the Trail of Tears to know its history, and yet how much more powerful it would be if you could.
We can retell stories. But, we can retrace the trail, literally or figuratively, if a semblance of it was on the ground. That experience of five miles, twenty-five miles, or 1,200 miles speaks volumes to the hardship of travelers on this way. It speaks volumes of extremes in heat and cold. It brings the history into an experiential plane where we can imagine how our ancestors felt. When we have an experience like that, that place becomes our place. It becomes as much our story to protect as it is the role of archeologists and historians to protect.
I see value to both preservation and recreation. Preserving the ancient sites along the original routes for their archeological significance is important, but so is bringing people to a trail in the middle of a desert to capture the truth of travelers in this place. It gives people the opportunity to connect to the landscape, to the history, and even to the scenic beauty found along historic trails.
In 2002, the Overmountain Victory Trail had 16 miles of the 300 mile route on the ground. This year they have 76 miles of trail. Actualizing the re-creation of the trail allows for the connection to it. It makes reinactors walking from Abingdon, Virginia to King's Mountain, South Carolina realistic in their retelling. It makes the challenging journey over the Roan Highlands a rewarding experience for those who follow in the footsteps of our Revolutionary forefathers as they topped the highest elevation on their journey, and marked the third day of their quest to find and defeat the British loyalists. The act of walking the trail brings the story to life for anyone who follows it so that they can relive the hardships, revel in the beauty along the way, and celebrate their arrival at the destination.
Establishing the literal trail is also a means of providing a corridor of protection to the historic route and an awareness of its importance within the surrounding communities so that if threatened it will be heralded as a valuable asset. Or, if the opportunity arises to acquire private property for the protection of the route, the awareness of what this trail could be drives the call for funding and support for its purchase.
It’s also a dutiful way to give back to nature by establishing a swath of land for use by wildlife within a protected corridor. The wild lives on the path were significant to the people before us and are as meaningful for us today. Since we no longer depend on them for our survival we marvel at their survival, their adaptation and their role in our natural world – that helps us develop a deeper, wondrous connection with this place.
Far from being complete, the Overmountain Victory Historic Trail gives me hope for the actualization of historic trails on the ground. For that matter, so does the Old Spanish Trail, the Anza Trail, and El Camino Real de los Tejas.
What to you believe? Are historic trails meant to be trails in name only? Is the absence of a physical trail necessary for historic resource preservation? Does having an on-trail experience enhance your connection with a place? What perspective do you gain from trails?
Trails in the wilderness hearken back to a slower time. Trails help us look back to see things the way they might have been.
This is in part what National Scenic and Historic Trails have to offer – a step back in time as we move along their paths. That is what I find exciting. The path provides the avenue through which we can connect people to these places and their history.
Congress has designated nineteen National Historic Trails since 1978. All to often though they are trails in name only.
While there are efforts being made to interpret specific sites along the route, the route itself is an anomaly. As an example, people can visit some of the Spanish missions along the route of the 1774-1776 Anza Trail route between Culiacan Rosales, Mexico and San Francisco. Today there are but brief sections of the Trail that can be retraced.
Similarly, the historic trade routes from Santa Fe to Los Angeles, now the Old Spanish Trail lights upon paths used by American Indians, fur and livestock traders, soldiers and merchants, but its interpretation and visitation is largely at road waysides and museums. Organizations and Federal partners are focused on verifying the historical importance and site-specific significance rather than laying a path that resembles or retraces the route itself.
These trails are largely a memory. They are history recorded in journals. They are debris buried in the earth over time. They are wayside exhibits of arduous journeys. These are but illusive examples of what life was like. A path that connects the significant points for present-day travelers makes it real.
There’s conflicting interest in establishing on the ground trails. Some advocate that the history of the trails is the most important aspect. These people feel that there need not be a trail on the ground for the history of the line to be shared with people. You don’t have to walk the Trail of Tears to know its history, and yet how much more powerful it would be if you could.
We can retell stories. But, we can retrace the trail, literally or figuratively, if a semblance of it was on the ground. That experience of five miles, twenty-five miles, or 1,200 miles speaks volumes to the hardship of travelers on this way. It speaks volumes of extremes in heat and cold. It brings the history into an experiential plane where we can imagine how our ancestors felt. When we have an experience like that, that place becomes our place. It becomes as much our story to protect as it is the role of archeologists and historians to protect.
I see value to both preservation and recreation. Preserving the ancient sites along the original routes for their archeological significance is important, but so is bringing people to a trail in the middle of a desert to capture the truth of travelers in this place. It gives people the opportunity to connect to the landscape, to the history, and even to the scenic beauty found along historic trails.
In 2002, the Overmountain Victory Trail had 16 miles of the 300 mile route on the ground. This year they have 76 miles of trail. Actualizing the re-creation of the trail allows for the connection to it. It makes reinactors walking from Abingdon, Virginia to King's Mountain, South Carolina realistic in their retelling. It makes the challenging journey over the Roan Highlands a rewarding experience for those who follow in the footsteps of our Revolutionary forefathers as they topped the highest elevation on their journey, and marked the third day of their quest to find and defeat the British loyalists. The act of walking the trail brings the story to life for anyone who follows it so that they can relive the hardships, revel in the beauty along the way, and celebrate their arrival at the destination.
Establishing the literal trail is also a means of providing a corridor of protection to the historic route and an awareness of its importance within the surrounding communities so that if threatened it will be heralded as a valuable asset. Or, if the opportunity arises to acquire private property for the protection of the route, the awareness of what this trail could be drives the call for funding and support for its purchase.
It’s also a dutiful way to give back to nature by establishing a swath of land for use by wildlife within a protected corridor. The wild lives on the path were significant to the people before us and are as meaningful for us today. Since we no longer depend on them for our survival we marvel at their survival, their adaptation and their role in our natural world – that helps us develop a deeper, wondrous connection with this place.
Far from being complete, the Overmountain Victory Historic Trail gives me hope for the actualization of historic trails on the ground. For that matter, so does the Old Spanish Trail, the Anza Trail, and El Camino Real de los Tejas.
What to you believe? Are historic trails meant to be trails in name only? Is the absence of a physical trail necessary for historic resource preservation? Does having an on-trail experience enhance your connection with a place? What perspective do you gain from trails?
Friday, April 29, 2011
Going Away Party
I moved away from my North Carolina home at the end of 2009. I left for the west, bound for my own love story in British Columbia with a man I thought was “the one.”
The fact that my friends threw me a romance-themed party didn’t seem as fitting at the time as it does now. After all, I was leaving in pursuit of love and romance.
At the time, it just seemed funny and topical. I had just given away hundreds of romance novels, but the gift did not stick. It came back to me so that I was forced to give them away again. The gist of the party was (per my friends who planned it) not only to see me off but also to give attendees romance novels as party favors.
The Saga of the Romance Novels
After my mom passed away, the cleaning began. I took on the sorting, the organizing and the purging. If not because I felt the most capable of my family members (and I am) but for fear that anyone else might be careless and discard something I valued. If any item seemed less than important to me but might have meaning to someone else it was my plan to vet the discard through the family committee before chucking it.
When I unearthed boxes and boxes and boxes of romance novels, I knew no one would miss them. They went first, and without me asking a soul.
I loaded them in my trunk and delivered them to the person I knew had a secret passion for romance novels; it was a “habit” she picked up courtesy of time spent on the middle school swim team. She received them with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning – opening boxes, giggling at the cover art, and browsing back covers. Despite talking smack about the content and the themes (Scottish Highland settings, the young bride, paranormal, and Westerns) the tremor in her voice exposed her elation with the gift. And, I felt proud. There’s nothing better than giving someone something they love, and she clearly loves romance novels.
Her girlfriend was less than pleased with the gift. And this I understand. Because when your loved one slips into a trance – an open-eyed comma where she appears alive to the world but can not be pulled into the moment of here-and-now – you begin to hate that thing that drives the distraction. You hate that book. You hate the fantasy your loved one is living. You hate being second-class to fictional characters. And so, Megan made Elizabeth return the books to me.
It was the best possible scenario. Megan got her girlfriend back. Elizabeth didn’t have to witness the books being “disposed of” unceremoniously at Goodwill before she finished with them, and they reasoned that I now had “party favors” to give my other friends who came to my going away party which was now dubbed a romantic affair.
They made an invitation to the party, complete with picture of a shirtless man with He-Man upper-body strength in an embrace with a woman, her shoulder exposed where her burgundy dress sleeve had slipped off. Her comment bubble reads: “Tapas, Darling, Not topless.” That is how the theme of my party was born.
My friends only ended up taking a third of the party favors I had available. (I’m pretty sure Elizabeth left with three parting gifts.) I schlepped the remaining ones to the used bookstore and was able to sell half of them there, gaining a $17 credit to Mr. K’s. The rest, the final third – undesired by friends and the used bookstore – were welcomed into the open arms of the collection bin at Goodwill. Good riddance.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Romance: Truth or Fiction
“My mom writes romance novels.”
Do you know how hard that is to say when you are in your early 20s?
People conjure up the hot and steamy sex scenes, and immediately you know they are thinking about you, your mom, and sex!
I often got asked if I read her work. Early on I had to answer yes. I had been trying to support her and provide feedback.
But I was not her ideal audience. I knew nothing about romance novels. I had never read any.
And, by the way, never read anything she wrote that made me do more than blush a bit.
As her confidence in her writing grew so did her connections to other romance writers. She developed a network of authors, editors, critics, and friends. They took over the role of supporting her in ways I had done as she just started out.
But, I heard story lines and character sketches, and knew when the plot took a new twist. I heard when she had a fresh idea for a new paranormal romance set in England. And I loved that she was writing. I was also glad she wasn’t reading the damned things as much. I gloried in the fact that she was using her creative energy; she’s a visual artist, too.
And if I swap between using present tense and past, it is because I do not know if she is here or not. She died in 2008. But I still feel her with me, and so sometimes it is hard to pull away enough to say “she was a visual artist” especially when I live in a museum filled with her vision. Landscapes of coasts and countryside. Birds, flowers, family portraits. A series examining the Civil War. Creation. A textile print. A sculpture of dancers.
Now I have an idea to share in her work, her vision and her creative energy. It's an idea to un-do the romance. Not to shatter her work but to shift its composition. A partnership between me, my mother, and our words.
What do you think of romance novels? Are the cliché? Formulaic? Dastardly? Uplifting? Do they offer truth or a saga?
Friday, April 22, 2011
What do you call it?
The centering that follows intense physical exertion can be gained by any means – Tae Bo, running, hiking, dancing, yoga. But the thing is, there’s no right or wrong way to reach the centering. One is not better than the other. One is not more pure than the others.
When I am glowing after a sweaty night of Contra dancing in a hall cramped with bodies, it’s as much the peace that follows the exertion as it is specifically the dance, the music or the communion with others.
By pushing myself physically, it releases the clamp on my own judgment of myself. For a brief, few minutes I’ve reached a quiet and accepting place. I am kind to myself and grateful for the world around me.
It’s the runner’s high, the yogi’s open heart, the hiker’s bliss, and the dancer’s glow. It can be called many things and reached in many ways.
I call it welcome.
When I am glowing after a sweaty night of Contra dancing in a hall cramped with bodies, it’s as much the peace that follows the exertion as it is specifically the dance, the music or the communion with others.
By pushing myself physically, it releases the clamp on my own judgment of myself. For a brief, few minutes I’ve reached a quiet and accepting place. I am kind to myself and grateful for the world around me.
It’s the runner’s high, the yogi’s open heart, the hiker’s bliss, and the dancer’s glow. It can be called many things and reached in many ways.
I call it welcome.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Two Glasses of Water and a Run
I haven't run since the Greer Half-Marathon on April 9, and I figured that I'd best take advantage of the sun this afternoon since I thought I heard a forecast for rain.
I downed two glasses of water, grabbed my camera and set out to capture sights that caught my eye.
I ran in to this guy at the top of my driveway.
The dogwoods in bloom I encountered on my way down my road lit up the dark curve in the road.
I thought I glimpsed a squirrel in the tree at first, but it didn't move enough. Upon a closer look, I saw it was a kitty in a pine.
The pastoral residents I most frequently talk to on my runs.
Pink dogwoods!
Main Street Mars Hill and Mars Hill Baptist Church.
I recently discovered this road and added it to my running route. It's beautiful along these Fields of Hope - an initiative by Mars Hill Baptist Church to organize volunteers to grow food for hungry people in Western North Carolina. In 2009 they harvested 42,000 pounds of vegetables!
Near the end of my run I was tired and struggling, but I was lucky to be coming off steep hill from Bailey on to Bruce Rd. when I spotted a brigade of young men from Mars Hill college running toward me. With about a half-mile to go and knowing they might continue on Bruce instead of turn on Bailey, I kept up my pace and pushed towards my "finish line" at my road. They overtook me in front of Carr's farm, but for a little while, at least, I was in the lead. I even got a "good job, girl" from the least shy of the group.
I downed two glasses of water, grabbed my camera and set out to capture sights that caught my eye.
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| From Run 2011, Apr20 |
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| From Run 2011, Apr20 |
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| From Run 2011, Apr20 |
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| From Run 2011, Apr20 |
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| From Run 2011, Apr20 |
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| From Run 2011, Apr20 |
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| From Run 2011, Apr20 |
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| From Run 2011, Apr20 |
Friday, April 15, 2011
Moment of Clarity
This space around me
still
but outside it moves the wind chimes
clink, ting, ting, ting
and here I am out of the elements
Here I am “protected” and “safe”
Here I am shielded from Nature’s
true grit.
Here I am anesthetized
Here I am
Blue chair
Black pen
Journal
Here I am khaki, quick dry pants
Here I am pulling the power of Ganesh from
my shirt into my heart
Here I am filling pages
with words I may never review again
Here I am breathing solidly
without difficulty
Here I am healthy, strong
Here I am with straight hair
Here I am against the clock
Here I am searcher of truth
Here I am divine feminine
Here I am goddess, queen
Here I am fabulous and lucky
Here I am adorable
Here I am ready to love and be loved
Here I am forgiving
Here I am sharp – brain and style
(as Papaw Bud would say Sharp Chicken)
Here I am blue eyes and freckles
Here I am painted toenails
Here I am full of mango, yogurt, granola
and coffee
Here I am content for this moment
Here I am smiling
Here I am thoughtful
Here I am checking the time to
end on a high note. While it is still
natural to know who I am and where I am right now.
still
but outside it moves the wind chimes
clink, ting, ting, ting
and here I am out of the elements
Here I am “protected” and “safe”
Here I am shielded from Nature’s
true grit.
Here I am anesthetized
Here I am
Blue chair
Black pen
Journal
Here I am khaki, quick dry pants
Here I am pulling the power of Ganesh from
my shirt into my heart
Here I am filling pages
with words I may never review again
Here I am breathing solidly
without difficulty
Here I am healthy, strong
Here I am with straight hair
Here I am against the clock
Here I am searcher of truth
Here I am divine feminine
Here I am goddess, queen
Here I am fabulous and lucky
Here I am adorable
Here I am ready to love and be loved
Here I am forgiving
Here I am sharp – brain and style
(as Papaw Bud would say Sharp Chicken)
Here I am blue eyes and freckles
Here I am painted toenails
Here I am full of mango, yogurt, granola
and coffee
Here I am content for this moment
Here I am smiling
Here I am thoughtful
Here I am checking the time to
end on a high note. While it is still
natural to know who I am and where I am right now.
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