I have adopted a dog. It’s about time. She is a 9 month old, 75 lb ball of fur and exhuberance, and, yes, she is excited to see you. Here is a picture of her. Like all labs, she only speaks in all caps.

HELLOOOO! I WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND!

Her name is still to be determined. Options include Chaco, Nyah, and Princess. My aunt says that she looks more like a horse than a dog, so Dorse is also an option. Here is another picture.

BALL! BALL! I WANT TO CHEW THE BALL!

I’m looking forward to taking her on her first backpacking trip soon. It will take a bit of time to work her up to that kind of mileage. We’ll start with camping. This is perfect because somebody, and I’m not going to say who (Shannon), already bought her the REI Adventure Dog Tent. So now my shelter, backpack, and sleeping pad, all weigh less than the tent my dog will sleep in.

The Princess name has some basis in reality, you see?

SOMEDAY I WILL GROW INTO A GREAT BACKPACKING DOG THAT WILL WANDER ALL THE LANDS, HIKE 1000'S OF MILES, AND CARRY ALL MY WEIGHT ON MY BACK!

That last one was actually me talking. Anybody out there got a great furry backpacking buddy? Thanks for meeting mine.

Chirripo sunrise

We are at 12,000 ft on the top of Chirripó, and my little brain, used to living at sea level, is playing the base drum inside my skull in protest. I try to remind it that we live in the second story of a house, so that’s really 20 feet above sea level, and every little bit counts.

My brain isn’t buying it.

Let me start by laying out the events of the past few days. First, we left my house, took a train to the airport, a plane to Denver, another plane to San Jose C.R., a taxi to the bus station, a bus to San Isidro, and a taxi to San Gerardo de Rivas. We then paid for the permit to enter the park.

Amount of sleep in the last 36 hours: 0.

We woke up the next morning at 4 am, packed up the Tarptent and carried our packs 4 km to the park entrance. Add 6 km for accidentally missing the park entrance and getting very, very lost. A nice man let us jump in the back of his truck on his way to work, and set us on the right track.

We were then starting our hike having already done 10 km already.

The climb was fairly brutal, at least for 2 people carrying too much weight.

12 Cosmic Brownies, Addy? 12? They sell food in Costa Rica.

But maybe not Cosmic Brownies.

Everyone coming down the trail was carrying, at max, a water bottle. A large fat kit chugged his way down and told us that the view made it all totally worth it. In my heart, I slowly began to hate him.

Why was no one carrying backpacks we wondered? They had all hired donkeys to porter their gear to the base camp. I would say that I took pride in carrying up all of my supplies, but those Cosmic brownies (12, really?), instant pudding mixes, and GU shots were burning a hole in my pack. At each break, both Shannon and I consumed as much food as possible so that we wouldn’t have to carry it.

Who knew that I would ever have to force down a brownie.

The first day’s hike ended up being around 20km. More or less. The maps are a bit fuzzy on distances, and we have no idea how far lost we were in the morning. Regardless, we were counting steps by the end and taking frequent stops. When we saw the base camp, I lost my fatigue and took off running. Shannon was not quite as enthusiastic. Because it was so cold, we slept that night in a cocoon of emergency blankets.

The next morning, we awoke at 2 am so that we could summit at sunrise. Even though I was heavily sleep deprived, had a small marching band inside my head, and generally hated everything that did not involve the words warm, sleeping, and sea level, Shannon somehow coaxed me out of bed.

Once on the trail, we hiked with headlamps under more stars than I have ever seen. We passed a group that had left earlier than us (you know, the ones who had all hired donkeys to take their gear to the base camp), and, I’m not going to lie, I felt pretty proud of us at that moment. The final climb was steep, but reaching the top was exhilarating. We could see in the distance the people coming up the trail behind us. 25 of them all holding flashlights. It looking like a moving Christmas tree light I was reminded of the scene in 13th Warrior when the Wendol are raiding camp. Cue Antonio Banderas saying, “They are only men!” What? You haven’t seen that movie? Good for you. Those two hours of my life are gone forever.

Also, I haven’t learned how to shoot low light settings and my fingers were too cold to operate the camera.

Reader: It couldn’t have been that cold. Exaggerate much?

Addy: Shhh. You are ruining the story.

On the way down (Lord bless the way down), we slowly warmed up as the elevation dropped and the sun came out. I began to feel hope that I would not remain cold for the rest of my life. Several kilometers later, we got to see brightly color lizards sun themselves on the hot rocks. Humming birds flew around the trail mating.

We finally stumbled all of the way down into town and collapsed in a hostel. Sleep is a good thing. The pounding in my brain got a little bit quieter.

While I write this, I am sprawled out on a mattress with the thickness of a notebook, eating and drinking everything in sight. I could really, really go for a Cosmic Brownie. Too bad we ate all of them in two days.

All of them. 12 brownies in two days. At least my pack got lighter.

To end this, and maybe this is just the sleep deprivation talking, let me say that Chirripó is a beautiful, beautiful mountain that I will NEVER climb again. But you should try it if you go to Costa Rica. And, if you do hire a donkey to porter your gear, I promise not to judge you in the slightest. As long as you don’t judge me for eating 12 brownies in two days.

The two of us

For those that don’t know, my good friend and hiking partner Erin Saver and I were planning to do the PCT together this year. I can’t go, but that shouldn’t stop you from reading about all of her great adventures. Her blog is Erin’s PCT Thru-Hike Journal. I hope that you’ll check it out and follow along.

I recently discovered that Mattexian and I have something in common: we both work in warehouses. It’s not an entirely bad job. But after 8 hours of opening boxes and hanging clothes I begin to think that someday my job will be replaced by a robot, and maybe that wouldn’t really be so bad, and the robot would work round the clock until one day it developed sentience and slowly began to hate life and dream of a career in the liberal arts, possibly writing binary poetry. Bad binary poetry.

00100011111
111000101
0101010

Nothing good can come of this.

One of the perks of working in a warehouse is that you get to listen to whatever you want. I’ve been on a bit of a podcast kick these past two months. Here are my favorites, which I am officially peer pressuring you into subscribing.

1. Practical Backpacking

This podcast is a great resource for ultralight backpacking. I’ve worked my way through several, but so far my favorite episodes have been “Tarps 101″ from Ron Bell, an interview with Henry Shires, and a quilt overview with Andy Burgess of Golite.

2. Backpacking Light podcast

This one hasn’t updated in a while, but there are still some great episodes if you look through the archives. One example: “Inov8′s Wayne Edy on Women’s Footwear Design.”

On the non-backpacking front, I also listen to Coffee Break Spanish.  Mi cerveza por favor?

WNYC’s Radiolab. Documentary style show that taught me about the brilliance of pigeons. Seriously. Go ahead and give bread to those little guys. They saved lives in WWII.

Savage Love Podcast. NOT suitable for work. Unless you work from home, and even then you won’t be getting anything done if you are listening to this one.

ITunes U. Someone brilliant came up with this idea. Universities around the world will record their classes and put them on the web for free. I’m about halfway through Yale’s Intro to Psychology with Paul Bloom and loving it. Go free education! Up on the lis next: Zombies in Literature. That’s right, I’m classy.

This time tomorrow, I will be on a plane headed to Costa Rica. Why am I going? I saved up a bunch of money for the PCT and wanted to do something fun with it. While I’m not currently comfortable leaving my job for five months of backpacking, two weeks seems just about perfect. I haven’t mentioned this trip before because, I’m not going to lie, I thought I might jinx it.

Our current plan is to 1) Climb Chirripó, the tallest mountain in Costa Rica 2) Head to Monteverde to backpack in the Cloud Forest Reserve and 3) Hit up the northern coast, enjoy the beach, and look for sea turtles.

Of course, if none of that happens, and we find something else fun to do, that will be nice, too.

With our current plan, we will be doing three separate backpacking trips. I’ve gotten a few new pieces of gear I will be testing out. Here they are:

1. My new Osprey Hornet 46. It might be pushing the boundaries a little to use this as a multi-day pack, but at 1 lb 8 oz, it’s worth a shot.
2. Sawyer Permethrin Pump Spray
3. Buff with Insect Shield
4. ExOfficio Insect Shield hat. Stop making fun of me. It is not dorky at all. My mom says I look great in it.

As you can see, three of those items are insect repellant. Why? I hate bugs, and they love me.  In fact, the only things I hate more than bugs are terrorists. And public speaking. No, I don’t mind the public speaking, just the terrorists.

So for this trip I am launching a full on assault, on the bugs that is. My shirt, pants, and socks have all been Permethrin-ized. While this may cause cancer down the road, I think it will make my time in the rainforest a little more pleasant.

One example

You’ve seen them before. Little packets that fall out of the box when you try on new boots. Or a couple of them are stuffed in the pockets of that jacket you just brought home from the store. What are they? Silica gels. What are they for? Many, many things.

Silica gels absorb moisture. I throw a couple of them in the bottom of my sleeping bag and in my backpack while they are being stored, so that they don’t get musty or (heaven forbid) moldy. Silica gels can also be handy to dry out electronics that have been dropped in water.

Because I work in the warehouse of an backpacking store, I collect a ton of silica gel packets (and if you ask a stocker very nicely, they might give you some of these for free). Faced with bagfuls of silica gel packets, I have come up with some additional uses for them.

Silica gels are useful for:

1. Holding back water

2. Impressing the ladies

3. Staying dry

4. Making friends

5. NOT FOR EATING

6. For party tricks

This one is real. When you throw silica gels into water, they make little snapping noises. Not to be confused with Pop Rocks.

So next time you find a little packet of silica gels when you unpack new clothes or shoes, hold onto them. You never know when they will come in handy.

Hello internets. I have been much away from this blog these past few months for two reasons.

I was:

1) Working two jobs over Christmas.

2) Trying to figure a few things out.

It’s looking like I won’t be able to go on the PCT this year. I know, I’m bummed too. The timing isn’t working out, and the more I try to rearrange things and push to make it work, the more I realize that this is not the year for me. Argh. It’s frustrating because I have put so much time and effort in planning this trip.

Erin and I on a recent snowshoeing trip

Erin is still going and I am super proud of her. She’s decided to go solo and see who she meets along the way. She’s looking for a way to keep her friends and family updated on her trip, and I’ll post that information as it comes. I’m also going to be twisting her arm for a few guest posts here and pictures. I’ll still be helping her train and pick out gear. And I’ll be rooting for her all the way.

I’m not sure what direction this blog will take now that I’m not focused on the PCT. I’m a little lost about it, but I figure I’ll just keep writing silly stories and crossing my fingers for next year.

Thanks to everyone who has been so supportive.

Go team,

Addy

Contrary to popular belief, it can actually be quite difficult to find and identify a mudslide. They are wily creatures, difficult to spot, appearing only on channel 8 news or on the road home on the last night of your vacation. On the off chance that someone will need this help, I have put together a scenario through which you will know what to expect when you encounter a mudslide.

First, wait until it is dark, then drive over a mountain in the rain. If you can, wait for a time when the snow is beginning to melt. Next, locate a large pile of mud, snow, and rocks and smash your car into it going 40mph. You may ask, who would be stupid enough to voluntarily do this, and I will tell you that some people (not me, of course), and only stupid enough to smash into mudslides on accident. It was very dark, and the roads were in bad condition, so stop making fun of me. But we are not talking about me here, we are talking about you.

Once you have ascertained that nothing on you or your passenger is broken, get out of the car and look around. Try not to look up at the rocks and trees clinging precariously to the side of the mountain. Hope that you will get your car out before you get squashed. Next, lay down flat on your stomach, press your face against the sludge and try to see what you are stuck on.

This might be the jacket of someone who had to crawl around in the mud

Say to your car, “If you please, please help me get out of here and to safety, you may have all of the money I saved up by working two jobs over the holidays. All of it. I will get you shiny metal things with confusing names, things that I don’t understand their function, anything a mechanic says I need to get you well, if you will only avoid sliding down the rest of this mountain.” Because, let’s face it, some people, not me though, believe that cars work by a mystical combination of love and expensive parts. Those people should really take a class in basic mechanical functions.

Back to the mud and snow and rock slide. It will be good to bring a snow shovel to this event. One person will begin shoveling out debris, while the other will dig away at the dirt with their hands. At some point, people will begin to approach this same roadblock. After watching you dig for what will feel like a long while (your chest, arms, and face will be covered in mud), a few wonderful souls will walk over and offer to help push you out.

It is at this point that an older gentleman will say to you, “You could get a big fine for trying to cross this.” And you will try not to mutter under your breath that you did not voluntarily drive into a 100 yard mudslide, because he is doing you a big, big favor by helping you get out.

Once several lovely people have pushed you out, you will then want to ascertain how many chunks of metal you have left in the mudslide. None? You are extremely lucky. No one is dead yet? Also a good sign. Turn your car on and begin to hobble home. Having a fully attached bumper is really overrated.

I should tell you that there is only one major road over the mountain and you will need to backtrack three and a half hours to get home. Why will that take so long? Because a) It is dark and the roads are narrow and winding b)You are afraid that if you drive too quickly your car will begin to drop pieces of itself and c) You will encounter heavy rains and flash floods. Yes, I said flash floods. When you clench your jaw and try not to panic as an 18 wheeler passes you and kicks up so much spray that you can no longer see the highway in front of you, you may begin to think that God does not want you to get home. That he will be sending frogs and locust after you soon, because you have done something very, very bad. Try to fight that inclination.

Even when the hail begins to fall.

If, by some magic combination of duct tape and a prayer, you do make it home around 3 o’clock in the morning, you will crawl exhausted out of your car and it will promptly burst into flames. No it won’t. But if it did, you wouldn’t care. Even covered in mud, all you will be able to think about is your bed. You may, if you are feeling particularly industrious, brush your teeth, but you will not shower.

The next morning as you exam the gashess in your tire and the partially detached bumper, you can feel fairly confident that your scientific findings are complete, and you have, in fact, identified (and survived) a mud slide.

A little while ago, Justin (of Wandering Justin fame) asked me if I wanted to write a guest post for his blog. I felt so honored. Here’s what I came up with: If the outdoors are so great, why did we invent the indoors? If you check it out, you should page through Justin’s blog, there is some great stuff there.

The leaves have all fallen, families will soon gather for Thanksgiving, I have put away my Halloween zombie makeup, and Erin and I have now done our first camping trip with snow. It is that time of the year again. The time when you want so badly to be outside, that you will put up with piddling things like loss of sensation in your fingers and the potential of a slow hypothermic death.

We both have limited time available, so we met right after work at 7 pm. After gathering a few supplies, we were on our way to Bagby Hot Springs. One consequence of working too much is that you sometimes have to resort to night hiking in order to get a trip in.

We drove through the falling snow very slowly (did I mention I’m a terrible driver) and got to the trailhead at around 10:30. We strapped on our headlamps, and headed off. While we were walking, the snow began to clear and moon light illuminated our path.

Ah well, a camera phone is better than no camera at all

The hike in to Bagby Hot Springs is short, only one and a half miles, and a little while farther to campsites. Luckily for us, there were no cars in the parking lot (a rarity there). Bagby is a developed hot spring, meaning that some wonderful people have built wooden tubs and a network of pipes to fill them with water, all of which you can use for free.

We checked out the hot springs and decided to bed down for the night and soak the next day. The snow started again, falling this time in thick clumps, and it became difficult to see the trail to the campsites. But Erin and I weren’t in a rush and were excited to have time together. Besides, doesn’t the first big snow of the year have a hint of magic to it?

We made our way down a side trail to where we thought we found a spot to setup our Tarptent.

“Does this look level to you?” I said.

Erin began inspecting the ground. “Hey, what are those ropes and buckets for?” she asked.

Then I saw it too. Some sort of haphazardly hung tarp with buckets all around. I stepped forward to look in and heard a loud grunt.

So it was true. People had told us that Bagby was full of drunken party goers and scary homeless men. We had been advised not to go.

Erin and I backed away. “We are so sorry.” I mumbled. “We’ll go away right now.”

We backtracked. Magical night of fresh falling snow now made slightly less magical by our fear of being attacked in the night. But it was still quite beautiful, and were only mildly spooked.

We tried to go to the farthest campsite, which ended up being right down the hill from our scary homeless man. We setup our little Tarptent and climbed in.

It was still snowing in the morning. We were surprised to see how deep it was. During the night, the falling snow had built up on the Tarptent pushing down the sides and top, so that we woke up a little soggy but in high spirits. Even a scary homeless man and empty Coors light cans couldn’t get us down.

As it turned out, the man we had stumbled across in the night was a young guy from Portland. He had biked out from Portland to spend a couple of nights at the hot springs. We ended up sharing a tub with him and chatting for a while. I believe my friends when they tell me that they were grossed out by the trash and drunken parties at Bagby, and I know that there are sometimes squatters, but we seem to have hit things just right.

Bagby is still a worthwhile trip. It’s no wonder so many people come to these hot springs. With the sun rising, we got to see the forest floor covered in white and the trees heavy with snow. Sitting in a tub full of steaming spring water while the snow is falling all around you equals a pretty incredible morning.

We soaked for a while, then gathered our things, said goodbye to our new friend, and hiked out. Both Erin and I had to work that night (curse that needing to pay rent thing), so we were glad to have been able to squeeze in this short trip. As it turns out, it only takes one night in the woods to refresh our spirits, though I would love a few more, even if it means overlooking a few beer cans.