The Timp

Way back in the spring, my youngest daughter Sarah began asking me when we were going to make our annual trek to "The Timp". It was about ten years ago that I had first taken her and her siblings to this place which for me (and evidently her as well) has special memories attached to it. It has since become a tradition for us to make a yearly visit to Harriman State Park near the NJ / NY border and backpack up the steep three mile trail to the top of this modest 1000 foot high "mountain" and camp. Events conspired to prevent us from making the trip earlier this year, and then the heat of summer was upon us, but once the weather turned cooler again, she (bless her heart) resumed her prompting. The trip was finally scheduled for the last weekend in October, weather permitting. We put the news out to a few other people we thought would enjoy accompanying us on the hike, and they made plans to join us.

After several consecutive weekends of absolutely perfect weather, I guess you could say we were due for a bad one. Sure enough, a frontal system stalled over our area just in time to cast doubt as to whether we would have to cancel the trip. Every day last week I flipped through half a dozen weather websites looking for any encouraging prediction but found none. On Wednesday the forecast was calling for rain on both Saturday and Sunday. On Thursday night my wife and I were at the grocery store picking up some last minute items for the trip just in case something changed. By coincidence we bumped into a friend who was one of the few we had invited to come along and he informed us that he and his wife had decided to cancel. I couldn't blame him... who in their right mind would leave the comfort of their home to spend two days and a night in the cold, wet woods? On the other hand, this trip had already been postponed several times, and with the end of the 2007 camping season near, I was inclined to cancel this trip only if it looked like a total washout. Unfortunately, that was the way it would be if the people who make their living predicting the weather were correct.

Science had been my favorite subject in school. It was one of the few classes that had my full attention and where I actually learned anything that I considered useful. Not surprisingly then, I have always found meteorology very interesting. Understanding how the whole hydrologic cycle works can give one a better appreciation for the intricacies of our planet, at least in my opinion. Anyway, I had to remind myself that the purpose of this trip was to have fun, not to study the different types of air masses and how they interact with one another. If it rained the whole time, it would NOT be fun for anyone (with one possible exception). On the other hand, if it cleared up right around the time we got to the top of the mountain, THAT had the potential to be spectacular and maybe even enhance the adventure.

Not surprisingly, the night before our scheduled departure people were calling to find out if the trip was still on. After accessing the detailed data on the government's NOAA website and making my own analysis, I came to the somewhat optimistic conclusion that it was a good bet the precipitation would end right around the time we planned to begin walking (2pm) and it might even dry out before we reached the top. I suspect that everyone had their doubts about the accuracy of my un-edjumacated opinion. I know I did. Luckily for me and my pride this is exactly how the day played out.

We assembled around mid morning on Saturday and ran through the last minute checklists. It was raining heavily as the eight of us threw our loaded packs in the vehicles and drove north toward the park. Around 1pm we stopped for lunch along the way. It was still raining hard with no signs of letting up any time soon. Around 2pm we pulled into the parking lot near the trailhead. It was STILL raining, although the sky had begun to lighten up. We strapped on our packs, put our ponchos on, and began our ascent, becoming more confident with each step that this three-day-long deluge might finally be coming to an end. It was hardly five minutes up the hill that people began removing their rain gear. Shortly after that, the jackets and sweatshirts came off. As it turned out, all the extra clothes we brought to make sure we had something dry to wear were reduced to unnecessary cargo. We plodded up the steep incline and made our way ever higher. Even with several rest stops, the miles seemed to go by faster than expected. As we neared the top, blue sky patches appeared through the canopy of trees. By the time we finally reached the rocky summit, the sun had emerged! We dropped our packs and stood on the highest point to enjoy the incredible view. To the west and overhead was now clear, while the dark mass of clouds that had dropped over three inches of rain was being ushered quickly eastward by a stiff wind. As the trip planner, I could now breathe a sigh of relief that I had not dragged everyone up here only to spend a miserable wet night in the woods. Don't forget you can click on the pictures to see the full-screen version.

pre-departure

five minutes later

the top of the timp

Pepper's sixth (and possibly last) Timp trip

looks dangerous, donit?

We savored the view for awhile, then our group reassembled just below the peak to select suitable tent sites. Everyone took part in this process and since most of us had been through this routine before, it went without a hitch. Next, a few of us went off to seek the driest firewood available, while others went off to filter water. Camp chores done, we then made the short 100 foot walk back to the top to watch the beautiful sunset. I think everyone was glad that we hadn't called the whole trip off.

a view even a dog can appreciate

the water gathering ritual

Angela inspects the picture she just took

looking west from camp just after sunset

The wind was blowing something fierce. It doesn't take long for a gale to strip heat from one's body, so after watching the orb dip below the horizon, we once again retreated to the somewhat protected hollow where we had established camp. We prepared and ate our meal, cleaned up some of the dishes, then I summoned everyone back to the top of the mountain to view an an event which was about to take place in the sky over our heads. As I said, I am something of a science buff, so while surfing the net recently I stumbled upon a website where I discovered something called "iridium flares". Intrigued, I learned that there are at present 66 active communication satellites whose highly polished antennae reflect sunlight like giant mirrors in space and because of their fixed axis in relation to the earth's surface, it can also be predicted when and where this reflection can be observed and what level of magnitude (brightness) you can expect at any location on the globe. The flares first appear like a dim star that quickly becomes very bright, then just as quickly fades back to invisibility. The whole thing lasts only about 20 or 30 seconds so unless you are looking for it, chances are you will never notice one. While the trip was still in it's planning stage, I used google earth to determine the geographical coordinates of "The Timp", then plugged this information into the website that maintains the schedule for the flares. Fortunately, I found there was going to be not only one but TWO of them visible from our campsite on the Saturday night we would be there, spaced only four minutes apart! From our vantage point I knew we would have an unobstructed view of the sky as long as there was no cloud cover. So there we were, all eight of us casting our gaze to the north-northeast and focused on an area in the heavens between the star Polaris and the constellation Cassiopeia at precisely 7:44:52pm. As promised, the flares did indeed occur and we all got our first-ever viewing of this phenomenon, along with a little astronomy lesson.

Now it was time to set about the work of getting a fire going. As you might guess, this was no small task. Fortunately, Dave had the brilliant idea to grab a newspaper at lunchtime for the purpose of helping us to get the wet wood burning. It took longer than usual and a lot of coaxing, but eventually man prevailed over the elements and got the thing lit. We then sat for hours bathing in its radiant heat... talking, telling stories, sipping hot chocolate, and joking with one another. Eventually we used up all the wood and it was time to crawl into our sleeping bags for the night.

even drenched wood burns with enough coaxing

Normally my wife and I would prefer to sleep out under the stars on the summit since this was a clear, bugless night. However, the strong wind buffeting the treetops had not relented at all, and if anything, had increased. The tents were nestled in an area among trees and were surrounded on all sides by a twenty foot high ridge. The wind was so intense that even in this protected space it was causing the tent walls to flap noisily. This racket got progressively worse after midnight and peaked sometime around 3am. I know this because the tarp covering my hammock was making the most noise of all and woke me up repeatedly during the night. I am sure that there were gusts approaching 50mph at times. This was the trial run for my new shelter which I hoped would prove to be a good replacement for a tent. Except for the noisy fabric (which was only a factor because of the extreme wind conditions), the hammock passed the test with flying colors. Not only was I much more comfortable suspended above the hard ground, but I was also very warm ensconced in this cleverly designed cocoon. I would also bet that if I had tightened the guy lines that secure the tarp, I could have alleviated some of the snapping.

We awoke to a 40 degree sunny morning. The wind had subsided to about 15mph by daybreak. One by one we mustered the courage to slip out of our bags and brave the chilly air. We found a quiet spot in the lee of some rocks to boil water for our oatmeal breakfast. After that we broke camp and prepared for our return voyage to the parking lot. Before heading off, I whipped out my GPS device and sent the teenagers on a quest to find a geocache that someone else had hidden somewhere near the top of the mountain. For the uninitiated, "geocaching" is a hobby of sorts where people hide small containers and then place information about the stash on the internet. There is a website where you can find information about these hidden containers. You just put in the coordinates of any location and it gives you the latitude and longitude numbers for each nearby cache, who hid them, and a host of other interesting facts. It took the kids about ten minutes, but they located the one I had printed out for them to find. As is the custom, we were allowed to take one item from the box as long as we left one in exchange. Patrick claimed the red bandanna and offered a stick of gum as his swap. Not a fair trade in my opinion but who am I to judge? :-)

a crisp, clear, 40 degree Sunday morning

unquestionably the most colorful member of our group

leaving no trace

Finally underway just after noon, we followed the red-dot blazes that would lead us back down to the road by a different route. This trail took us over Bald Mountain where we paused for lunch around 1:30pm. The temperature had warmed up to around 60 by then, but the breeze made it feel much cooler, especially whenever the sun was blocked by a cumulus cloud, which seemed to be most of the time. Nevertheless, we enjoyed our break on a slab of rock which had actually become warm to the touch from absorbing the sun's rays all morning.

breaktime

We cleaned up so as to leave no trace of our presence there and continued along. Just a few minutes farther down the trail we came to a dramatic view from the edge of a cliff. Actually, only Dave and myself got to see the incredible sight because the others who were all ahead of us either didn't notice or opted to skip the little side trail that led to it. We had a awesome view of Bear Mountain Bridge and the upsteam waters of the Hudson for miles above it. Although some in our group were now complaining about the added distance back to the bottom, others among us were thoroughly enjoying this very scenic trail. There were many fine views to the east that are not afforded along the trail we came up on the day before.

my new wallpaper

our animule

Dave finally accepts that (pack) size DOES matter

pepper acting as chaperone

the ubiquitous cell phone: we had at least 7 among us

When we were about a mile and a half from the bottom, Dave and I were again lingering at a viewpoint when we were approached by a young woman who turned out to be a "trail angel". For those who have never heard of trail angels, they are people you meet along the way that offer some unexpected help. I don't think giving directions counts, but more tangible assistance like food or equipment would certainly qualify. In our case, we were coming down the mountain to a different spot along the road than where our vehicles were parked. This meant that at least one of us had to walk or jog along the road for about a mile to retrieve a car or truck. I had volunteered to do this since I was the one who had suggested this alternate route down. But now, as we neared the end of our journey, we were offered a ride by this friendly stranger. This would save our group about 30 minutes of waiting time. Multiplied by the number of our group (not including the dog) and this cumulatively saved us over four hours! Anyway, assisted by this angel I was able to shuttle my van back to the new parking lot before any of the others even got to the end of the trail, so there was no lost time at all.

All in all, it was another successful trip. As far as I could tell, everyone enjoyed themselves. Not only did we maintain a family tradition... but we also learned new things, tried out some new equipment, walked some new trails, and established some new relationships. My wife and I wish to thank all those who contributed to making this adventure what it was.

back down, safe and sound

The AT in MD

September and October are usually fairly dry months around these parts compared to the rest of the year. The days are warm but not scorching, while the nights are normally cool and clear. My wife and I enjoy sleeping in the great outdoors, so we try to plan as many camping trips as we can during the first half of autumn in order to take advantage of these optimum conditions. This past weekend we left the kayaks at home, loaded up our backpacks, and drove down to Maryland to hike a portion of the Appalachian Trail.

sat view (click on the images to enlarge)

For those who may not be familiar with it, the "AT" is a 2100+ mile continuous footpath that runs between Maine and Georgia. A total of fourteen states host the trail as it follows its namesake mountain range in the eastern US. Millions of adventure seekers have traversed at least a portion of the rugged trail. Each year thousands of people attempt to hike the trail in its entirety, but only about one in four of those who embark on this months-long endeavor succeed in completing their goal.

Given a mere three-day holiday weekend to work with, our goal was a bit more modest. The AT spends only 42 of its miles cutting across the Maryland panhandle and we selected 32 of them for our little walk. Our adult daughter decided to come along on this outing in an attempt to relieve some work-related stress. After an early breakfast at a DC-area IHOP, we made the one-hour drive to the small town of Weverton, left her car at the southern end of our planned route, then continued north in our Jeep to Raven Rock Hollow where our hike would begin. After a final check of our gear and a time-delayed group photo, we set off around 10:45am.

ready to roll

As is often the case, the first mile or so of trail from the parking area was a grueling uphill slog. The AT spends a good deal of its mileage along ridgelines, so hikers can anticipate a series of steep descents and ascents wherever the trail intersects a road. I don't know how it is for other folks who participate in the sport of backpacking, but for me it is usually about 15 minutes into the first day of walking that I begin to question why it was that I opted to bring this or that item along. A few ounces here and there don't seem to matter much when I am laying out my gear the night before, but they do indeed add up and I invariably promise myself that I will trim the list of "must-have-alongs" next time. Eventually the trail leveled off and we took our first break.

breaktime

The weather was unseasonably warm on this particular weekend. Normally you would expect a high somewhere around 70 degrees this time of year, but we were dealing with mid-80's to around 90 all three days. I had an advantage over my female traveling companions in that I could remove my shirt. Perhaps that was why I seemed to have a bit more energy and eventually ended up about 20 minutes ahead of them on the trail. This was just as well since I could then scout potential lunch spots. After a sweaty grind it is quite a treat to be able to rest on an exposed ledge where the mountain breeze can quickly cool you off and dry your soaked clothes. I found just such a spot and left a note on the trail for the others.

not neon, but just as effective

the view from our "table"

how was everything ma'am?

After a nice relaxing meal, we continued our southbound trek. Mid to late October usually affords the most colorful autumnal display and we were a couple of weeks too early for that. However, the annual process was just beginning and it was enjoyable to walk upon a thin layer of freshly fallen leaves while still having an abundance of green all around. The heat would have been much harder to bear if the trees weren't still providing ample shade on the forest floor.

seriously, who wouldn't wanna be here?

such a peaceful setting

Within the first hour after lunch, I again found myself way ahead on the trail. I have hiked many miles along this footpath in several states and with many different companions and it is seldom that any two people are perfectly matched in the speed at which they feel most comfortable walking. This difference is inconsequential on short jaunts, but on an all day excursion lugging thirty pound packs it usually means that each hiker in a group will find their own pace. As long as each person is experienced and capable of handling unforeseen circumstances which may arise, there is no problem leaving each to travel at their own speed. In this case, I knew that wandering out in front by as much as 30 minutes posed no danger to the others. There were no tricky turns that could send them miles in the wrong direction, the topography posed no hazards, and there was no threat of bad weather moving in suddenly. Aside from the element of personal comfort, there is much to be said for what happens when you are alone with yourself in a place that is far removed from your everyday world. If you are inclined toward introspection, you will find that your inward vision is much clearer here. A person who by nature carefully observes their surroundings might be more likely to notice subtle things in their immediate environment like unusual insect sounds or the texture of the ground beneath their shoes. Perhaps another person will find that communing with their Creator is much more natural while they are apart from all others in this big open place. In short, being alone in the woods is conducive to heightening one's awareness and concentration. If you have some backpacking experience under your belt, I would highly recommend a solo hike. There is nothing like it for clearing out the cobwebs in your mind and helping you to get some perspective on what is real and what is important.

Eventually I arrived at a side trail that was supposed to have a spring a short distance downslope. In keeping with the ritual, I dropped my pack at the intersection, grabbed all my empty flasks along with my trusty water filter, and went to find the essential fluid. I have been on hikes where getting water was a major issue, sometimes requiring a steep two-mile round-trip venture off the main trail. One time I resorted to sucking rainwater out of tiny recesses in rocks through a straw in order to accumulate enough to rehydrate a meal. One time all that was available was a small mud hole and it took me over an hour to gather half a quart and another half hour to clean my filter element before I could use it again. Another time I had to filter slimy, stagnant swamp muck. Yes, those are extreme circumstances and most often you will be able to find what you need with minimal effort. That was the case this time. A short 100 yard descent and there was the tiny but flowing spring. I siphoned a gallon and by the time I got back to the main trail, the women had caught up. I took their empty containers and repeated the effort, returning with another gallon and a half of fresh, pure, cold H2O. In addition to quenching our thirst, this would be enough to cook and clean up with that night and probably carry us through lunch the following day.

Another seven tenths of a mile down the trail took us to our destination for camp one: Black Rocks. This is a quartzite outcropping facing west toward the Cumberland Valley. There is an awesome unobstructed 180 degree view from the edge of this cliff. We arrived just in time to watch the sunset. Visibility was somewhat limited by the high humidity level in the air, but it was still quite impressive. We sat still on the rocks letting our muscles recover from a long day's work and enjoyed the warm evening breeze as dusk slowly faded into night.

just in the nick

last light

Sometime around 8pm we began to think about food. We prepared a nice hot meal of wild rice mixed with a vegetable concoction on our tiny camp stove and ate our fill. We were careful not to spill any morsels since we intended to sleep in this same spot and didn't want to attract any nocturnal visitors. I will never forget one trip when a marauding band of brazen raccoons swept through camp in the middle of the night and made a huge mess. They are very hard to dissuade once they get the scent of an easy meal. Then of course there are always the bears, although I have not personally encountered one yet. This isolated location does not afford campers any emergency exit if confronted by something large and aggressive, but I kept all such thoughts to myself and merely stressed the importance of cleaning up well before we settled in for the night.

The lights of civilization far below us and clear out to the horizon provided an incredible nighttime view. We were actually able to watch the traffic signals change in Hagerstown, a city some 8 miles away. As someone who prefers to sleep out under the stars instead of inside a nylon cocoon, this location ranks as one of my all time favorite places to camp. There is some flat ground under the trees a stone's throw from these rocks where one can pitch a tent if one is not comfortable sleeping on the edge of a cliff. However, on this night, all three of us sprawled out on the slabs of rock and drifted off under a moonless sky.

Camping in the wild is always less comfortable than one's own bed at home, and anyone who would argue this point is just plain crazy. Most people find it hard to sleep straight through the night while they are "roughing it". One can either be annoyed by this or accept it as part of the overall experience and embrace it. I choose the latter. If (when) I wake up in the wee hours, I take the opportunity to observe how the sky has changed since I last viewed it. For example, while we were all still awake and talking after dinner, someone asked where the constellation Orion was. That set of stars is normally associated with the winter sky and was not yet visible, but I speculated that it would rise sometime between midnight and daybreak. Sure enough it did and I was glad to get my first view of it in many months. During one of my later stirrings sometime after 4am, I watched the waning crescent moon rise, escorted by Venus. I don't recall ever having seen a heavenly body so bright and large as she looked that night. I'm no astronomy expert so I didn't know exactly what I was seeing at the time, but presumed it must be a planet. While writing this blog I pulled up the interactive sky chart at skyandtelescope.com and was able to reproduce an image of the night sky from that precise geographical location on that date and hour and thereby confirm exactly what I had seen. What a clever free tool they offer there!

no ifs, ands, or buts... this is a conjunction

star date 10.07.07.0400

Unfortunately, not all of us got to enjoy the early morning astronomical delights and the camera I was using is not especially good at capturing distant images in low light conditions. However, the flash DOES work well so I made good use of it.

5 am

6 am

7 am

8 am

9 am

At some point in time during the first day of our hike, my daughter remembered that the keys for her car (which we had left at the southern terminus of our trip) were safely locked up inside our Jeep which was half a day's walk behind us by that time. It was decided that on day two we would split up. She and my wife would re-hike the section we had already completed and return to the car on the north end, while I would continue south. The plan was for them to relocate the Jeep as close as possible to where we had planned to camp on the second night and rendezvous with me near sundown. We would use our cell phones sometime around 4pm to confirm our separate locations and that all was going according to schedule. We hit the trail heading in opposite directions somewhere around 9:30 Sunday morning.

I kept the camera with me so I was able to record what I saw along the way on day two. Following a long, gradual descent, I arrived at the place where the AT crosses Interstate 70. There is a nice footbridge that was built to accommodate hikers and I snapped a picture of it for your viewing pleasure.

safe passage

The trail continued along the spine of South Mountain through some very pretty forest. This section was also quite busy with day hikers. I saw a cub scout troop, a girl scout troop, and many families out for a nice Sunday morning walk in the woods. Many times when you hike the AT you can go for hours without seeing another soul. Other times, especially near easy access points on holiday weekends, you might see hundreds of folks out enjoying the trail. I take it as it comes, but naturally prefer the more sparsely used sections. Although I would guess I saw around a hundred people this day (including the troops), the norm is that you will encounter less than twenty. At least that has been my experience.

The trail passes very close to Washington Monument so I went for a look-see. Of course this is not the famous one that is some sixty miles to the southeast in downtown DC, but it is a very impressive structure all the same. Originally built in 1829 and later restored by the CCCs in the mid 1930's, it has been preserved as a national historical site. An internal spiral stairway winds its way to the top and the view from there is outstanding. I met a couple of bird watchers, binoculars in hand, waiting for the next hawk to pass by. Although I don't share their keen interest in ornithology, I admit it is nice to spy the occasional large bird of prey hunting on the updrafts of the mountains. We saw several such flying creatures each time we paused on a rocky overlook to sip from our water bottles.

a cool pile of rocks

The Appalachian Trail has many access points in the more developed areas. Maryland qualifies as one of the more populated places that the trail passes through, so you can hardly go more than five miles along the path without encountering a road crossing. The parking lot at Washington Monument is one such place and this is what you might expect to see where the trail goes off into the "wilderness".

showing the way

It is my opinion that very few sections of the AT qualify as true wilderness, but that does not detract from its appeal. It is a very good thing that there is a trail like this so close to the heart of the vast and densely populated east coast metropolis.

If you spend any significant time hiking this footpath, you are likely to meet some interesting people. We were only out for a weekend, but it was on the very first hour of our trip that we met "John" from Massachusetts. An interesting and talkative character sporting a pony tail, we bumped into him several times over the course of two days and learned that he had already been on the trail for about a week. Like us he was southbound and very much unlike us he was hoping to remain on the trail until he reached its southern terminus at Springer Mountain in Georgia approximately 1200 miles away. I asked if he expected to be done by Christmas and he replied that he thought he would finish by the end of November or the first week in December. Most "thru-hikers" average between ten and fifteen miles a day over the course of six or seven months. It only took me a moment to calculate that he would need to average closer to 20 miles per day to make his goal. We were only planning on around ten miles a day for three days and it was all we could do to accomplish that much. Since he was content to stay and chat with us slowpokes, I have my doubts about his being able to go the distance. All the same, I wish him luck.

John, aka "long-haired dude"

Our group successfully reassembled at Dahlgren Backpack Campground late Sunday afternoon. This is a free campground set aside for ATers and the state of Maryland graciously provides hot showers, restrooms, picnic tables, and fire rings for those who pass by or stay here. Each of the five sites has an adjacent grassy area for pitching a shelter, and there are also a few more unofficial sites hidden in the surrounding forest. This was a pleasant enough place to spend the night and surprisingly had very few bugs. Amazingly, I didn't see even one mosquito the whole time we were there. I arrived first and set up camp. The others strolled in about three hours later after going into town and buying sandwiches for lunch. As if there was ever any doubt, I guess we now know who the REAL backpacker among us is, huh? Wimps! We hung out for awhile and rested our weary bones, then finally made ourselves some dinner and toasted marshmallows over a wood fire. My wife and I spent the night on the ground while my daughter opted to make use of the tent. It was a comfortable night, but one with neither a panoramic view or any appreciable portion of the sky available for stargazing. The two hot showers I took somewhat made up for this lack.

quiet, clean, and free... no complaints

no trip is complete without it

The next morning we decided to give our feet a break and instead of doing the last 14 miles of our route, we instead hiked the short distance back to the repositioned Jeep, drove to the other car, parked, then hiked the one mile steep trail up to Weverton Cliffs. There is a fine view of the Potomac River gorge from there. Facing south, directly on the other side of the river is Virginia and if you look upstream you can see Harper's Ferry, West Virginia about three miles westward. People who have the gumption can start a trip in Pen Mar, Pennsylvania and hike 46 fairly easy miles along the AT in three days and be able to say their journey involved walking in four states. Our group was content with 18 miles in two days and we are able to say that we hiked in one state.

the Potomac

the birds

the end

The Water Gap Reprised

Perfect weather drew us out on the water again for the last weekend in September, 2007. This time we were accompanied by a couple of good friends and their dog who made the trip more fun than it would have been without them.

After scoping out a section of the Delaware River beginning at the Water Gap and running south to Easton, Pennsylvania, we opted instead to repeat essentially the same section we did last month. This enabled us to be more relaxed since we knew what to expect along the way, plus it gave us a chance to explore some of the islands that we didn't have time to visit on our last pass.

We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at a small restaurant in a riverside village, then set about the business of shuttling our stuff and vehicles. Upon our arrival at our upstream put-in near Namanock Island access area on the New Jersey side, we unloaded the boats and left the girls to pack em up with all the gear while us guys made the 90 minute round-trip drive to place one car at the Kittatiny take out point. It was about 1pm when the five of us finally pushed off the bank and got underway.

the satellite view

The weather was as good as it gets... mid 70's, sunny, and low humidity. A nice breeze was at our backs which was an added bonus, as anyone who has ever had to paddle into a headwind can attest. The ultra-clear water reflected the dazzling sun which amplified the warming effect of the early fall rays. We were only a few minutes downstream when we began stripping off all but the minimum required clothing. It was definitely a sunscreen kinda day.

Something less than an hour after our departure we came to Dingman's Bridge. I had neglected to get a picture of this span on our last trip, so I made it a point to capture the image.

approaching Dingman's Bridge

our accomplices

I should mention that our cohorts are both stand-up comedians by trade. They kept us laughing the whole weekend. We were indeed privileged to have them along for entertainment.

the comedy duo of L & L

After a long afternoon of paddling, we were eager to find our perch for the night. It came not a moment too soon in the form of two adjacent free campsites, numbers 67 and 68. These are located on a portion of the river known as Walpack Bend which is a three mile stretch of mostly quiet water where the river reverses direction twice. The last time we passed through here, all of the thirty or so campsites along both banks were occupied. This time there were far less people on the water and since you can only access these sites by boat, there were several prime locations to pick from. This is an especially pretty part of the river.

a welcome site

We set up camp and ate a hearty meal, then sat around the fire for awhile toasting marshmallows. At least I was toasting them... what the others were doing could more accurately be described as burning them to a crisp. After our friends decided to hit the sack, my wife and I hit the local bar for a nightcap. Gravel bar that is, with a bottle of spring water for liquid refreshment. We walked out onto the stony peninsula with our camp chairs and plopped them down facing directly into the moonrise, which just happened to be occurring exactly downstream, which was the ONLY direction which afforded a view of a distant horizon. What amazing luck!

The next morning, someone woke our friend up in the middle of a dream and she responded by attacking the camera person with a deadly weapon. Had we known at the time that this woman was regional champion at long-distance slingshotting, we might have taken her more seriously. She demonstrated her talents later in the day by launching a vacant clamshell a phenomenal distance with impressive form and skill.

DWGNRA slingshot champ of 2007

The morning mist eventually burned off and revealed another clear-as-a-bell day. It was also revealed that some of us are more efficient at breaking camp than others.

happy family

I am quite sure that the pup had great time on our outing. She got to run wild and explore the whole area around our camp, she got to sleep INSIDE the tent ON the soft sleeping bags of her owners, and she didn't even have to get her feet wet when it was time to re-board her canoe.

daddy's got you baby

Although I never saw the mutt pick up a paddle the whole time, she DID contribute some labor... she performed dishwasher duty after dinner without complaint.

Having already navigated this river a month earlier, we were able to direct our friends into the shallowest portions of the stream whenever we needed some entertainment.

what's wrong with this picture?

Near the end of the journey, we all got a bit slaphappy. One of the looniest in our party introduced us to a new game. It is sort of a cross between ice hockey (without the ice) and mini-putt. Opponents use their paddles to whack a submerged golf ball toward a common goal while simultaneously preventing themselves from being carried downstream by the current. We spent a good part of half an hour trying to perfect our technique, but never succeeded in scoring a point. Maybe next time.

so close, yet so far

All good trips must come to an end, and this one was no exception. A short distance beyond the Interstate 80 span is where we took our boats out. Another ninety minute nascar-style shuttle and we were on our way home.

Thanks again L & L for being part of a fun-filled outdoor adventure.

the finish line... I-80