I wish I had pictures. Or a recording. Or something more credible than described memories of my encounter in the desert. But as with many mysterious and occult occurrences, it happened so fast there was no time for witness or capture.
My daughter, Livvy, and I had visited spectacular Joshua Tree National Park during the day on March 17, 2022. We drove and hiked around the park and looked for a camping spot with no luck.
We knew there was Bureau of Land Management (BLM) territory outside the town of Joshua Tree, and that was our fallback. About an hour before sunset, we exited the national park and drove to the BLM land. We took a right off the paved road and drove in about a half mile on dirt road surrounded by open, flat, sage-brushed desert terrain, and found a spot to pitch our tents for the night.
Camping on Bureau of Land Management land outside Joshua Tree, CA
As we got out and stretched, perusing our surroundings, Livvy said, “What the heck is that?”
Across the desert expanse, maybe five miles to the east, hovering over the distant mountains, was a black, vaguely roundish object. Not sitting still in place, but not flying either. Rather it was moving slightly side to side. Hovering. It was far away and difficult to see. It remained there for at least an hour as we set about pitching our tents and preparing dinner.
A weather balloon, I offered? Livvy didn’t think so. She could see the strange object better than I.
Flying Train
Darkness fell. We went about our business, having dinner, softening our tent interiors for slumber. We shelved thoughts of the mysterious object for the moment.
A full moon shone, and around 9:30 p.m. Livvy and I retired to our respective tents. I laid down and pulled up a Netflix movie. Around 9:45 a sound unlike anything I’ve heard before entered my auditory field and gradually grew louder. I lifted my head to listen better.
The only way I can think of to describe it is like a train flying over us. It sounded like a flying craft, slightly and quickly undulating but not like wings. The sound didn’t resemble jet propulsion either. Like a loud train growing closer and closer.
As it became quite loud, something close overhead, I began to push up so I could see outside my tent. The moment I began pushing up, the loud train sound whooshed and was gone in a split second. I looked all around the desert and in the sky. Nothing.
“What in the heck was that?” Livvy said from her tent. “What in the hell…” I said simultaneously. We were both glad each other heard it, too.
The entire occurrence lasted about five seconds.
Unexplained Freaky Occurrence
I lay awake after the noise for at least two hours before I was able to drift off. Wondering.
Livvy and I talked about it, mulling what it could have been. A drone? Definitely not a personal drone, and not like any drone I’ve ever seen. Military drone? Quite unlikely that a military drone operator would risk the danger of buzzing a couple of desert campers. Perhaps an experimental, high-tech flying craft, or some sort of surveillance operation? Possibly.
I’ve since heard about high-tech companies with labs in the desert experimenting on future air and space craft. By some accounts, the Mojave has become what Area 51 used to be: a hotbed of experimental flying technology that inspire stories like mine from visitors to the area.
Perhaps the flying object, whatever it was, came from one of those experimenting companies. Or…? Something not of this world?
A Mystified Cynic
To explain emphatically, I am not nor have I ever been someone to believe in things beyond what can be proved. Nearly all occurrences in my life can be explained. On the other hand, I am also open to possibilities in the universe beyond what our science can yet encapsulate. Sometimes I’ve been witness to very strange coincidences that speak to an energy that our human imagining has not yet identified.
But our encounter with…whatever it was in the Mojave Desert was a rare one in which I still have no explanation.
When we arose to the sunrise in the morning, the black object we’d seen the night before, hanging over the distant mountains, was gone.
One other thing, maybe not so strange: my watch was 10 minutes slow the next morning. It is a cheap, traveling watch, and it has since been dragging slightly, likely a dying battery. Still, it hasn’t once lost an entire 10 minutes in one night.
Cocktail Party Fodder
What was it that buzzed us out there in the desert? Was the noise related to the black object in the sky? Is it worth spending time in contemplation?
I’ve since related the incident to many people and have yet to hear anyone offer any slight knowledge of what it might have been.
Livvy and I remain mystified. But what the hell, it makes for a good story.
If anyone has knowledge or guesses as to what might have swooped near us in the desert, please comment below.
There’s something primal and ancient about snowshoeing. You hear and feel the crunch of snow under your feet and the sensation courses up through your body and engages all your senses. Every snowshoe step is intentional and takes thought and effort. Just the act of walking is a mindful exercise.
Snowshoeing has been around for some 6,000 years. Though today’s snowshoes are made of lighter, hardier material than the old wooden slabs, the act of snowshoeing remains remarkably similar to how it has been practiced for its entire history.
I was appreciating this history and the fundamental nature of snowshoeing as I plodded up Mount Waumbek a month ago. It was a weekend plan, February 4-5, to snowshoe a couple of New Hampshire’s 4,000-footers (Mount Waumbek qualifies at 4,006 feet) with my friend Kevin. Mount Cabot (4,167) was slated for Sunday.
A widespread snowstorm had just dumped a blanket of the stuff across New England and temperatures remained stubbornly below zero.
Temperatures well below zero atop Mount Waumbek didn’t deter smiles as Kevin (left) and I took a brief break to view the Presidential Range in the distant background.
The Waumbek climb was gradual and moderate. We hit the trail at noon after my morning drive up from the Valley.
Temperatures hovered around zero and a consistent wind well below, but we sweated our way up the mountain exerting with every step. Thankfully, a couple of snowshoers had preceded our hike earlier in the day and broke trail for us, making the passage much easier.
The view atop Waumbek were spectacular dressed in mid-winter snow and ice. While the Mount Waumbek peak isn’t bare, the trees thin out to a point of providing vast, open views across the northern New Hampshire valleys, across to the Presidential Range on one side and Franconia Ridge to the southeast.
Waumbek is an up-and-back hike and the cold didn’t allow a long respite at the top. We descended at a fast pace stoked for a night’s rest and another hike tomorrow.
Mount Cabot, February 5, 2022
Mount Cabot, Kevin informed me, is often one of the last trails climbed by those who endeavor to hike all of the 48 4,000-footers. It’s an isolated trail, as we found out when we turned off the main road and drove five miles deep into the woods on a snow-covered gravel road.
“Temperature: 12 below zero,” Kevin announced when we parked near the trailhead. We would need to get moving to generate warmth.
After a couple hours of steep climbing, his information about Mount Cabot was proved spot-on. We were enjoying the summit and its rustic hiker cabin when we met another pair of snowshoers just reaching the top.
“That’s number 48,” exclaimed a woman as she set foot on the snowy summit, announcing her completion of the state’s high peaks, all hiked in winter. Mount Cabot was indeed her final peak.
Every time I hike up and back down a New Hampshire peak, no matter the season, I always leave with determination to return again soon. Inevitably, too much time passes between the last one and the next. And it’s happened again. I’m due to return to the high peaks of the White Mountains.
Night Snowshoe, Arcadia Wildlife Preserve, February 25, 2022
Finally, on February 25, we got a real snowstorm in the Valley, though not what was predicted. Still, a fresh coat of 4-5 inches blanketed the forest floor and beckoned a snowshoe outing.
It was a Friday, so following a day of work, my friend Karen and I donned snowshoes, headlamps and poles and headed through my backyard into the darkness of Arcadia Wildlife Preserve.
A snow-laden truck, circa 1930s, makes for a haunting image in the middle of the woods in the dark.
Night snowshoeing is its own special category of adventure. The crunch of snow still accompanies every step, but you navigate by the singular beam cast by a headlamp, slipping through shadows and the blackness of tree cover and night sky.
The trails of Arcadia are familiar to me after five years of living next to them. But at night, in the snow, they take on a different, more mysterious, ambience. I lose my familiarity and at times have to stop and decipher where I am. It adds a dose of excitement and discovery to the adventure.
This night snowshoe was about 3.5 miles, through the woods to a circular trail deep in the forest where the carcass of a 1930s-era truck remains. How it got there I have no idea. In the night snow the old truck sat forlorn, barely recognizable as a once-useful vehicle. The ghost of a driver behind the intact steering wheel could be sensed in the haze of the dark.
A night snowshoe through Arcadia out my backyard has become an annual pilgrimage. Already looking forward to next year’s.
When it’s time to strike out on adventure, which holds more benefit, going it alone or having a partner or multiple companions?
A solo adventure can be exciting and scary in a way group adventures are not. You might find yourself completely alone and isolated, subject to the whims of nature with no one to get you through except yourself. That can also have advantages.
Alternatively, adventure with others could compromise the outing beyond your acceptance, having to appease others’ tastes and comfort levels, or go at a pace not to your liking. Companionship on an adventure doesn’t guarantee safety either. Sometimes, depending on who you’re adventuring with, it could be a detriment to your safety.
Whether it’s better to go it alone or with others depends a lot on the particular adventure. There are some activities that simply require more than one person. If you’re rock climbing up a sheer face using ropes and harnesses, you’ll need at least one partner to be able to belay each other. Skydiving, scuba diving, heli-skiing and canoeing are other examples of activities better done with at least one partner.
But there are times when striking out on your own is exactly what’s needed. When uninterrupted contemplation is what’s called for. A solitary hike through the woods. A night camping in the desert. Fishing. A road trip.
It Depends
In other words, the answer to whether it’s better to adventure solo or together is the same answer given to so many of life’s questions: it depends.
Adventuring with has its advantages, such as sharing a spectacular sunset. (Image: photo by Aaker for Unsplash)
It depends on the adventure and the activity. It depends on your mood and what you need from it. It depends on the specific people involved and whether they are good adventure companions or not. The weather, the time of day, your location, the cost.
All of these factors will have bearing on whether to go it alone or not.
Still, amid this salad of dependent factors, some generalities exist. In general, there are advantages and disadvantages across the board of solo adventure versus group adventure.
Here is a breakdown of some of the benefits and drawbacks of both scenarios.
Solo Adventuring – Pros
Your Own Pace. When you adventure by yourself, you are the only one you have to keep up with. Go slow when you need to, go fast when it feels right and you won’t have to wait for anyone to catch up.
Inner Reflection. There’s nothing better than solo adventure for looking deep inside and getting to know your interior self. When you go solo, there’s no one there to interrupt your self-exploration.
Meet Different People. When you’re alone, you attract different people out on the trail, the road or the water. Some adventurers are more likely to approach a lone person than they are a duo or group. Often, those are the more interesting ones!
Go When You Want, Where You Want. No arguing over which course is better. No debating which attractions to see. When you adventure on your own, the plan is all yours, no compromising, only what you want to do when you want to do it.
Solo Adventuring – Cons
Loneliness. The number one drawback of solo adventure. No one to talk with, no one to share with, no one to witness your accomplishments. For some people, their own company gets old fast. For them, not having someone else along can drive them crazy.
More Danger. In the unfortunate event something bad happens – a sprained ankle, a broken arm or toe, hypo or hyperthermia – you have no one to assist, or, in extreme cases, go for help. Especially when attempting risky endeavors, it’s safest to go with a partner or partners.
No One to Push You. Studies show when people exercise in groups, they exercise harder and release more endorphins as a result. That’s partly because it takes on a performative and competitive aspect when others are present. You are incentivized to push yourself harder, if only to impress other people.
More Expensive. When you go it alone, you shoulder the entire cost of an adventure. That means paying for single rooms or campsites, all the gas and meals. Sharing the costs of overnight accommodations, gas and food can cut down substantially on the adventure price tag.
Adventuring with Others – Pros
Company and Conversation. Conversation makes the time go by faster. It’s also a good barometer of how hard you’re exerting. If you’re on your way up a steep climb, it’s best to set a pace at which you’re able to carry on a conversation without running out of breath.
It’s Safer. See above. Depending on the risk of the adventure, going with someone else as opposed to alone increases the safety margin considerably.
Distribution of Weight/Chores/Work. If you’re hiking, biking, paddling or ski-camping, being with others allows the opportunity to spread some weight around, even out the loads you’re carrying, or taking shifts between light and heavy carrying, extending your endurance.
Accountability. If you have an adventure or distance goal you want to attain, you’re more likely to reach it if you attempt it with others. It’s much harder to give up on a goal when you will affect someone else by doing so, and just the act of announcing your plan strengthens your volition.
Adventuring with Others – Cons
No solitude. See above. If it’s solitude and quiet reflection you’re after on the day you’re venturing into nature, it can be difficult to get that in the company of a companion. However, it can be done.
Someone Else’s Pace. When you adventure in a group, or even with one other person, you will move at the pace of the slowest person. If that happens to be you, you might feel pressure to push yourself faster than your comfort level.
No Sense of Discovery. One of the joys of solo adventure is the feeling of discovering something – a path or a way through – for the first time, a route that no one else has taken. If you’re with other people, you lose that sense, that you are the first one to go this way.
May be Harder to Meet People. When you’re with other people, especially if engaged in conversation, it can signal fellow adventurers not to stop, to keep on moving. But this depends on the adventurer; some are more likely to approach solo travelers, others to strike up conversation with a couple or a group.
Just Go
As you can see, adventure alone or adventure together, they both have their ups and downs. Which is better depends on several factors, including your mood and what you want out of it.
In the end, it doesn’t matter that much whether you go by yourself or with others. The main thing is to go, to get out and discover. Take the adventure.
Once wasn’t enough for Joan Young. The 74-year-old hiker from Minnesota is taking on the 4,800 miles of the North Country Scenic National Trail (NCT) for a second time. Her first NCT traverse took her 20 years to complete in sections. This time she’s shooting for a shorter timeframe.
The NCT is the longest of the 11 scenic hiking trails in the United States. It’s not as famous as its counterparts, such as the Appalachian Trail, but its length passes through more diverse terrain, covering eight states from North Dakota to Vermont.
Marge Hickman
Can’t Get Enough of the Leadville 100
Last August, Marge Hickman, 71, returned to the Leadville 100 for the 28th time. The legendary race is known as the first ultra-marathon, a 100-mile race over brutal Colorado terrain taking racers over more than 15,000 feet of elevation. Hickman has finished the race 14 times, more than any other woman.
She didn’t end up finishing the race in her 28th attempt. Didn’t matter. She proved once again that age, gender and other preconceived limitations are only self-imposed. The real race takes place between our ears.
May 2022
Adventure Inspiration
This past April, South African runner Jacky Hunt-Broersma, not only set a world record by completing 104 marathons in 104 days – an unbelievable mark in itself – but she achieved this feat as an amputee, running on a prosthetic leg.
Broersma has been running most her life. But when she lost her left leg from the knee down in 2001 due to a rare form of cancer, she didn’t allow that to stop her.
Broersma began her goal on January 17, 2022 by running a marathon in Arizona, near her home. She proceeded to run 26.2 miles every single day until she set the world record 104 days later, having run a total of 2,672 miles. Along the way, she raised $192,000 to help fellow amputee blade runners.
A Celebration of Life, Age and Adventure
In a follow up to Adventure in the News February 2022: Kane Tanaka, the oldest person in the world at age 119, died on April 19. Tanaka leaves behind an inspiring spirit for life, remaining spicy and funny till her final day.
Born on January 2, 1903, in Fukuoka, Japan, Tanaka, was known for her sharp wit and humor. Many reporters visited and interviewed her in her final years, which she enjoyed. When one young reporter asked her what kind of man she preferred, she answered right away: “A young man like you.”
Sister André of France, 118 years old, is now the oldest living person.
Rest in peace, Kane Tanaka.
April 2022
The Endurance, Ernest Shackleton’s Fabled Ship, Found
The Endurance, Ernest Shackleton’s ill-fated ship, became lodged in thick ice in the Weddell Sea off the coast of Antarctica in 1915.
Ernest Shackleton, arguably the greatest adventurer of all time, lost his ill-fated ship, the Endurance, in 1915 while attempting to be the first to traverse Antarctica. The Endurance ground to a halt in the thick ice of the Weddell Sea off the Antarctica coast, and the entire crew debarked, spending weeks on the ice until it crushed the ship and it sank into the sea. Shackleton’s crew lived for months on Elephant Island, subsisting on seal meat, while he and a crew of three set off across the Antarctic Ocean in a small boat, eventually landing on South Georgia Island and saving his entire crew. It’s one of the greatest adventure stories of all time.
Now, 106 years later, the Endurance has been found, about 10,000 feet underwater, by the expedition Endurance22. The wooden ship, lodged in the sea bottom about 10,000 feet underwater, is surprisingly intact.
More Exercise = Better Sleep, Research Finds
It’s not exactly earth-shattering news, but it never hurts to hear this again: getting more exercise can improve your sleep and decrease health risks, such as heart disease, stroke and cancer.
A new study in the British Journal of Sports Medicine analyzed data from 380,000 middle-aged men and women related to weekly physical activity and sleep quality. The study concluded that increasing physical activity can counteract health risks such as cardiovascular disease. It also found that people with lower sleep quality were at higher risk for heart disease and stroke.
There you have it: better sleep equals better health; and increase physical activity translates to better sleep.
March 2022
Running Across Mexico at Age 54
Mexican runner Germán Silva (pictured above), who gained fame three decades ago when he won two New York City Marathons, is nearly finished with an epic, 3,134-mile run across his home country. Over mountains, across desert, through dangerous, narco-controlled territories, Silva began his impressive jog in Tijuana last November. He was scheduled to finish in Tulum, on the eastern Yucatan coast, in late February.
Silva went through more than 18 pairs of running shoes and averaged about 30 miles a day, often in temperatures over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Toenails falling off, strained calf muscles and hamstrings. Nothing could stop Silva from this impressive feat, documented recently in the Washington Post.
Inn-to-Inn Hiking Comes to the U.S.
Walking from inn to inn has long been the dominion of Europe. The continent’s centuries-old landscape, dotted with castles, verdant hills and enticing pathways, has attracted tourist hikers for decades, hoofing their way each day between quaint accommodations.
Inns like this one, Kirkstone Pass Inn, England, have attracted trekking tourists for decades if not centuries. Now this mod of tourism is gaining popularity in the United States.
So it’s a notable development that walking from inn to inn is now becoming more popular in the United States. Walking tour companies have popped up in Colorado, Oregon, California, Maine and other states offering European-style trekking packages. Typically, these outings allow walkers to carry only a light daypack with water and snacks while the company transports their heavier bags with daily comforts to the inn for them. When they arrive at their destination after a day of hiking, everything – including a congratulatory glass of wine – is waiting for them.
It’s easy to understand why this mode of tourism is gaining popularity here. Walking is one of the best ways to experience a place, whether it’s a city tour or a trek in the hills and forests. The slow-motion pace gives time to take in views without hurry, and stopping to smell, touch and taste, is as simple as taking a seat on a bench or a log.
February 2022
Kane Tanaka at 20, in 1923
Talk About Aging Adventure
Kane Tanaka, born January 2, 1903, turned 119 years old last month, making her the oldest person in the world, recognized by Guinness Book of World Records.
Among her lifetime achievements was carrying the Olympic torch at the Tokyo 2020 Summer games, and working in the family rice shop for 74 years, from age 19 to 103.
Kane Tanaka at 119
Tanaka’s birthday was posted on Twitter by her great-granddaughter Junko Tanaka. Kane’s grandson, Eiji Tanaka, told CNN, “She’s very forward-thinking – she really enjoys living in the present.” According to family members, Kane keeps her mind and body sharp, partly by practicing math.
An aging inspiration.
A Bike Path Across the United States
The Rails-to-Trails Conservancy, a nonprofit that develops rail and multi-use trails throughout the United States, announced a 3,700-mile Great American Rail-Trail path that will span the entire country from Washington, D.C., to Washington state. The trail will cross 12 states, and will provide a 3,700-mile path for biking, walking and other nonmotorized forms of transport.
Section of the Rails-to-Trails Conservancy path
The GART, as it’s called, will patch together some existing trails, as well as new sections, crossing paths at times with well-traveled paths such as the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, the High Plains Byway and others.
Between the GART and the East Coast Greenway (Maine to Florida), adventures before long will be able to crisscross the United States east-west and north-south. Exciting times.
January 2022
Adventure is always in the news, though it may not always be obvious. This is a monthly scan of adventure-related headlines in national and world news.
New Study Finds that Nearly 6 in 10 Britons Take Life Too Seriously
Is anyone surprised?
These days, most people, British or not, seem to be taking life a little too seriously, forgetting how to have fun and losing their spirit of adventure.
In a study announced by The Independent, researchers surveyed 2,000 citizens of the United Kingdom, and found that most feel they are not getting the most out of life.
Among regrets, participating Britons noted “not traveling more widely when younger.” Others wished they spent less time working.
A lesson for us all. More adventure, more fun.
December 2021
Adventure is always in the news, though it may not always be obvious. This is a monthly scan of adventure-related headlines in national and world news.
This month in adventure:
750 Miles of Biking/Hiking Path Through New York State
In November 2021, headlines splashed across regional media, including the New York Times, announcing the completion of the Empire State Trail. This is a 750-mile trail in the shape of a large T, stretching from New York City north to the Canadian border, and from its intersection at Albany all the way to Buffalo.
Image: Wikimedia Commons
The Empire State Trail is actually the convergence of three trails: the Hudson Valley Greenway Trail (New York City to Albany), the Champlain Valley Trail (Albany to the Canadian border at Rouses Point, NY), and the Erie Canalway Trail (Buffalo to Albany).
The path is open to bikers and hikers of all ages and abilities. It wends its way through a diversity of surroundings – urban, rural, small villages and remote backroads.
I have heard from a few others that this is a wonderful trail for the most part, minus a few imperfect stretches of road. Personally, I can’t wait to hit this trail for some Empire State adventure!
A Little Walking is a Powerful Life Extender
We’ve all heard about the benefits of walking for healthier life and aging. But a massive recent study led by the American Cancer Society, after following 140,000 older adults, concluded that walking a mere six hours a week lowers fatality risk from cardiovascular, respiratory and cancer illnesses. Even walking two hours a week, you can lower your risk of disease, the study found.
Image: Pixabay
“Going for a walk at an average to brisk pace can provide people with a tremendous health benefit,” says Alpa Patel of the American Cancer Society, and the study’s lead investigator. “It’s free, easy, and can be done anywhere.”
The average age of study participants: 69. Even those who participated with a little walking at a moderate pace had decreased risk of death compared with those who did little or no activity, the study concludes.
Time to get walking!
Dark Sky in New England
It’s not easy these days to find a truly dark place, especially in the United States. The proliferation of night lights, getting brighter all the time, is crowding out spaces in which to access the stars in the night sky with the naked eye. A few dark places, called Dark Sky Sanctuaries, remain: Canyonlands National Park in Utah, Death Valley, California, Denali Park in Alaska, and George Washington and Jefferson National Forest in Virginia.
Last year, another Dark Sky Sanctuary was added to the list: Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument in Maine. The designation as a Dark Sky Place by the International Dark Sky Association will help protect this pristine area amid Maine’s 100-mile wilderness from encroaching light pollution.
Good news for anyone hiking the Appalachian Trail (as I intend to do next summer!), which traverses right through this area.
I’ve been lost a few notable times. I’m talking literally lost, as in can’t find my way physically back to familiar surroundings. I’ve been lost in a figurative way, in life, too, as in aimless and unmoored, flailing and floundering, unable to find purpose and drive.
They both have their lessons. But I want to talk here about the benefits of physically losing your way.
I’ve been lost in the woods a few times, retracing steps and inadvertently circling around to where I’ve already been. I’ve been lost in cities where I don’t speak the language, an equally disconcerting plight. One time in East Berlin I walked for hours all through the night searching for my gray, nondescript apartment building (all buildings in East Berlin were gray and nondescript back then), which I’d seen for the first time earlier that day, by car.
I’ve been lost big and small, afar and locally. I once feared a night out in the woods with my 9-year-old son in the November chill as we neared 10 miles of futile hiking trying to find our way out.
Every one of these lost forays yielded benefit. Always, I came away with something gained, something learned. Of course, surviving is key to these lessons.
Why Get Lost?
It’s a lost art, getting lost, because we have become, as a global society, so accustomed to being in touch and charting our courses electronically. Our outer skies are buzzing with hundreds of satellites that give us the capability of locating our position on earth via a handheld computer, and chatting with loved ones from any remote corner.
One never really intends to get lost, that would be almost oxymoronic and conceptually difficult. Rather, every time I’ve become lost it’s been the result of spontaneity, of acting on a whim to set out walking or running, without plotting a route. The freedom of pointing and going for no other reason than because you want to go there.
Getting lost requires either forgetfulness or willingness to forego the GPS gadget or cellphone, or even maps. Leave it all at home and set out into unknown territory.
But why would we do that? Why would we plan to lose our way?
5 Benefits of Getting Lost
The answers to these questions are not obvious nor are they easily obtained. But I will say from experience that getting lost is the only way to be truly found.
Becoming lost is a route to discovery. The act of getting disoriented forces us into a pattern of thoughts and mind processes that potentially lead to revelations and abilities that we never would have known existed if we were always aware of where we are, always comforted by safety and familiarity.
Recently on a walk in the outskirts of my town, and again on a bike ride, I wandered into unfamiliar territory – technically lost – and, while I knew the general area I was in, I had to double back and take some unexpected twists and turns to work my way back.
Each time, when I realized I had lost my way, I let go of something, and stumbled upon a freedom, an unanchoring, that could have only happened through this disoriented process. I gave myself permission to be unfound and relaxed into the art of aimless wandering. It’s hard to explain, but I highly recommend it.
In an effort to come a little more down to earth, here are five benefits of artfully losing your way.
Focus.
When you realize you don’t know where you are, your mind takes on an intensity of effort, a sharpened concentration on the task at hand that exercises your cognition. You focus in a muscular, purposeful way. You rally your reserves to regain your bearings and figure out where you are.
When you find your way back into familiarity (the premise of this article always assumes that outcome!), you retain the memory muscle that you’d exercised back there in the haze. You carry it forward and are able to access it easier in the future – next time you become lost, for instance. Exercising your focus is like mental calisthenics.
2. Letting go.
Our connection to familiarity and comfort, and our perceived need for them, are overrated. When we physically lose our way, ideally we loosen our hold on that need and potentially become more comfortable with discomfort.
This letting go of the need for comfort serves us in countless ways through life. As we know, life isn’t always comfortable or familiar, and the more we can let go of our attachment to those unchallenging conditions, the better we will be at handling it in the future when life throws us a left hook and we have to adjust. This is about adaptability, rolling with the punches, and making the best out of the hand we are dealt – letting go of insistence on perfection.
3. Raised awareness.
When you are lost, you immediately become more present. You notice things you wouldn’t have noticed before, you take note of details that might have faded into the background when you were more comfortably oriented. You gain awareness of your surroundings because you need that heightened awareness in order to become reoriented.
The thing is, this raised awareness, this heightened presence, enhances our life experience. Like letting go, exercising the awareness muscle continues to pay dividends long after we have found our way back.
4. Appreciation.
Sometimes you don’t appreciate something until you’ve lost it. That axiom applies here. There is no better way to engendering appreciation for the comforts and positive aspects of your life than by losing them, even temporarily. When you’re out there unable to find your way, a magical thing happens: you gain a deeper appreciation for the things you love and treasure. You can’t wait to get back to them, and when you do – when you finally find your way back – you may find yourself emotionally grateful to reconnect with your loved ones and comforts of home.
Ideally, we would feel this gratitude every day, in our routine lives. But getting lost and finding our way again has a way of notching up our appreciation for life and all its joys and pleasures.
5. Finding yourself.
Getting lost shows you who you are. It forces you to reckon with yourself, look yourself in the proverbial mirror and face some hard truths. You only truly find out who you are by facing challenge and pushing through discomfort. When things are nice and comfortable, we relax and coast. It’s great, but we don’t grow in those moments.
Deep down, we are truly who we are when dealing with crisis and adversity. That’s what losing our way is. A time of challenge, of momentary crisis, in which we have to draw from deep inside in order to remain calm and figure our way out. In the process, we find out who we are.
Getting Lost, Finding Yourself
So try it. Get lost, artfully. That is, open up the possibility to freely wander without knowing where you’re going or where you’ll end up.
Of course, this is not a recommendation to meander off a trail and get in trouble. Rather, it’s a gentle recommendation to perhaps leave the GPS at home sometimes, and resist pre-planning your route. Just go, without direction. See where your feet lead you.
Getting lost is the only way to truly find yourself.
It wasn’t the storm it was forecast to be, but the snow was falling all day – albeit not heavy, sticky flakes – the temperature was in the teens and the wind was blowing 30-mph gusts.
In others words, a perfect day for a bike ride.
The thermometer read 12 degrees, but my online weather chart said it felt like 10 below. So today’s ride would require the full-on gear treatment: top and bottom base layer, five tech over layers, insulated ski gloves, balaclava, two pairs of wool socks, goggles for the eyes and a puffy coat.
Bridge over the Oxbow inlet
Suited up, I headed out toward the Oxbow inlet. Riding was tricky from the start. Roads weren’t yet plowed and tire tracks weren’t any help. All they did was cover the icy patches underneath, so that if you followed them your tires would get jerked around as the icy tracks crossed. Much better was the untrammeled sides of the road with a fresh, four-inch layer of snow.
I nearly toppled over any number of times as I hit hidden ice patches, but managed to stay upright for the two-and-a-half-hour ride.
Slow Ride
I’d already accepted that today’s ride was going to be relatively slow, and that was fine. Paramount for me was staying warm, not how much mileage I would cover.
Staying warm in the sub-zero wind worked out fine once I got working, and pushing tires through the snow provided a good workout. My toes froze but otherwise I was warm head to feet.
The great thing about riding amid a storm is you have the roads almost all to yourself. Very few cars venture out in these conditions, nor should they. Rather, the few people you meet in the middle of a snowstorm are cross-country skiers, some snowmobilers and a few dog walkers.
Seeking Desolation
Once I got out in it, and started having fun, I decided to extend my planned ride and followed the same route I’d ridden a few weeks ago during a dawn ice ride. Through the back roads of the Northampton meadows and down into the isolated field roads running along the Connecticut River.
It’s one of my favorite places to ride in the winter because it’s so desolate and barren. I would have liked to have stopped more and appreciated the desolation and stillness, but it was simply too cold to remain standing in it for long without moving. Out there in the fields the wind gusts and billows freely and swipes at anything in its path. Just stopping for a minute for a drink of water, I could feel the freezing wind eating right through all my layers. Time to move.
I rode up into Northampton and navigated a few empty residential streets back to the rail trail bike path. Even that wasn’t easy riding as it was covered in drifting snow and bumpy with iced footprints.
I worked my way back down to the meadows behind South Street, back past the Oxbow and Arcadia, up to the Manhan bike path and around toward home.
Riding the storm out. It’s the perfect – and different – way to enjoy the snow.
It’s never easy getting up and out on a cold, dark January morning. Even harder if it’s by choice, not of necessity. I had taken the day off and could have slept in. What am I doing up before the sun, I kept asking myself as I sipped a hot green tea.
Twenty minutes later, all the doubt had vanished as I watched the sun peek up behind Mount Tom and cast a beam of light across the Oxbow perfectly aligned with where I stood on its bank.
A morning icy bike ride had been a good idea after all on this mid-January morning. I crossed the blocked off bridge at Old Springfield Road, over the Oxbow, and rode into the Northampton meadows, taking care to steer into the few frozen dirt patches I could find, for the traction.
Most of these back roads were covered in hard caked snow and slick ice, tricky for riding. Worse, car and truck tire grooves had been ridged into the surface so that a bike path could be yanked in any direction at any time by the hardened ice. It was impossible to trust what you’re riding on.
I rode slowly past the Oxbow Marina and toward the the dirt and gravel Potash Road. Almost no one in the Meadows this cold morning, which lent it a mystical, far away nature, as if I had traveled a long distance to get here. I was relieved nobody was there to see me go down on the back woodsy Manhan Road. The iced tire groove I had been following crossed with another. My bike tire decided on a different path than the one I intended. The bike won, its front tire jerking to the right. I didn’t adjust quickly enough and rolled onto my shoulder, almost chuckling, “you finally got me.”
I continued riding until I popped out on Pleasant Street just above the bowling alley. I worked my way across the street and took a right on Hockanum Road to continue through the meadows, this time on the other side of Route 91. I took a left on Nook Road and rode out into the middle of the fields, where there’s a barren intersection with Valley Field Road. I know these roads well, having run and walked them in warmer weather. But again, in mid-winter, completely alone at this crossroad amid the dormant fields that sweep down to the Connecticut River and over to the Northampton Airfield, it feels surreal and exposed. Like a desert. Except cold. Too cold to stand for very long marveling at the exquisitely still isolation.
I moved on. Past the airport, under Route 91 on Old Ferry Road, left on Cross Path Road over to Ventures Field to begin making my way back home. Pleasant Street to the bike path, through downtown, behind Smith College and along Route 5 and 10. The path was crusty with ice and pocked with boot prints, making for a rough mile before the bridge over Route 5 and 10.
From there, the path cleared, where sunshine had done its job melting away ice the day before. Final smooth mile.
The perfect way to start the day, especially when you don’t have to.
Getting Way Out There While Winter Hiking in the Whites
New Hampshire’s White Mountains are among the most formidable hiking proving grounds in the eastern United States. Renowned for its 48 4,000-foot peaks, the White Mountains present challenges for hikers at every level.
Winter hiking in the Whites presents its own special challenges, and until this past month I had never tried it. I drove up toward Twin Mountain, NH, from where I would set out, on December 27, curious about the experience. I had two days of solo hiking in front of me.
Mount Pierce summit
I chose to hike up Mount Pierce on the first day, with an option to loop over to Mount Jackson, two 4,000-foot peaks in the famous Presidential Range, of which Mount Washington is part. I harbor an aspiration to winter hike up Mount Washington at some point, and I’d read that Mt. Pierce was one of a few good warmups for that much larger, and more dangerous, undertaking. (I will be writing about that adventure when I succeed!)
More Challenge Needed
Starting from the Highland Visitors Center on Route 302, I headed up the Crawford Notch Trail. This is not a difficult trail as they go in the Whites. It climbs steadily for about 3.2 miles, not especially steep. This moderate climb attracted a good share of hikers that day, so that the snow was well tamped down and the footing reliable. It was a cloudy day so views from the top were nonexistent around mid-day. What the peak of Pierce did offer was a harsh, snappy wind and a bald top that deterred lingering for very long there.
I sought more. So from the summit of Pierce I proceeded on the Mizpah Trail. As fellow hikers returned, doubling back on the same trail down, I trudged forward into the back woods on a little used trail with the snow path barely broken. For more than two hours I pushed through deep snow not seeing anyone else. It was isolated, still and utterly beautiful, with a modicum of risk (if anything happened to me out here, no one was coming to help.)
Exactly what I was looking for. Silence, solitude, snow and a decent challenge. I came across Mizpah hut, a good-sized lodging hut open to hikers starting in late spring all the way into November. My daughter, Livvy, was hut master at Mizpah this past fall, so I stopped and snapped some pictures of the boarded-up building to share with her.
Mizpah Hut
Then I proceeded onto Mt. Jackson, still not seeing anyone for hours. I was in heaven. As I climbed to the summit of Mount Jackson, the wind whipped up and the skies cleared to give me an extended, stupendous view of the Presidential Range and beyond. It was blustery and cold so I didn’t stay long. But in the wind the trail down was hard to locate and for a minute I searched, haunted by numerous stories of hikers getting disoriented in the Whites and stumbling off the trail and getting in trouble.
Mount Jackson summit
Finally I found the Jackson Bridge Trail, which slipped straight down through an iced over and very slick rock gap. Really? I thought as I perused the gap from above. I’m supposed to go down that? I took my time and made it, then trudged the three miles descent back to the Highland Center.
More Deep Snowing Hiking
The next day I decided I would bag a couple more 4,000-footers, toying with the idea of adding all 48 4,000-footers in the Whites to my adventure list. It’s a thing. I’ve climbed about a dozen of them so far. We’ll see.
For today it would be the Kinsmans, north and south, two peaks on the north side of Route 93, opposite Franconia Ridge, which I’ve already done (though not in winter, when it becomes a more formidable endeavor).
I started up the Lonesome Lake Trail, another well-trodden path with no shortage of fellow hikers. About a half-mile up, I spotted an interesting but difficult-looking trail jutting straight up. I checked my map: the Dodge Cutoff, which led to the Kinsman Ridge Trail. I knew nothing about these, but it was off the beaten path so I took it.
A brilliant view of Franconia Ridge from Kinsman Ridge Trail
It was all I could handle. The Dodge Cutoff climbed straight up (no switchbacks in the Whites) and it wasn’t well-traveled so I was pushing through deep snow. I opted to continue climbing to Kinsman Ridge Trail, a gorgeous back country trail that cuts through the alpine at around 3,700 feet, just below Cannon Mountain.
I wanted isolated wilderness and I got it on this trail. It took me nearly three hours –no other hikers around – of steep ups and downs to work my way back to the more populated Lonesome Lake Trail. By then it was after 2 p.m.
More Adventures in the Whites
I opted to bail on the Kinsmans for the day. It would have been another two miles of climbing. I was zonked from the outback rugged trail I’d taken, plus the deep snow. Also, I would have run out of daylight, and though I had a headlamp, I didn’t want to be hiking down in the dark. I also had a three-hour drive back home when I was done.
The down via the Lonesome Lake Trail was steep and fast. I made it back to my car before 4 p.m. Almost six hours of steady hiking. I was ready to head home.
The beautiful thing about the Whites is that the park is so vast and there are so many trails that a hiker can get whatever they are looking for. A communal nature experience. A range of exertion levels, from moderate to difficult to intense. Or, pure isolation, in which some of the trails lead you deep into the wilderness where few others tend to go.
That’s what I was seeking for this adventure. That’s what I got.
Martie McNabb, Personal Historian, Legacy Artist, Nomad
Martie McNabb with her beloved road companion “Brooklyn”
A few years ago, Martie McNabb sold her apartment in Brooklyn, purchased a Winnebago Travato RV, and hit the road.
She was 59 at the time. And she’s been on the road ever since.
Martie, now 62, promptly named her Winnebago “Brooklyn,” in homage to her beloved city of 24 years. These days, she spends part of the year in Vermont, where her mother lives in warm seasons, and another part in Albuquerque, where her partner, Judy, has lived for most of her life.
The rest of the time, Martie lives in Brooklyn (again, the Winnebago, not the city), freely traversing the highways and taking in the sights across the United States, staying in campgrounds, RV parks and the occasional Cracker Barrel parking lot.
“I feel like, at this point, this is indefinite,” she says of her nomadic way of life. “Until I’m not able to do it anymore physically.”
Business Adventures
Martie has always had an adventurous spirit, she says, noting that her current cross-country travels are not her first. “I used to cross-country travel back in my youth, then in my Toyota Camry and car camping.”
When she got a job as a high school biology teacher, she settled down in Brooklyn (the city this time) and bought an apartment, where she lived for more than two decades.
“But the cost of living started getting ridiculous” in and around New York City, she said. “I couldn’t even afford to hire a coach.” That, combined with the negative effects of gentrification in her neighborhood, nudged her to sell her apartment and leave her job. “”That was the first decision I made,” she says. “It was just this perfect storm of everything happening at the same time.”
Meanwhile, Martie had started a business, Memories Out of the Box, through which she assists people in organizing and archiving personal memorabilia and visual memories to provide them with access to their past lives and the lives of their loved ones.
“I feel like it’s healing work,” she says of Memories Out of the Box, “to help my clients reconnect with family and friends.”
Martie followed that business with another startup a few years ago, Show & Tales, a business marketing and community-building service in which the host and participants share stories of the things they keep as a way to generate word-of-mouth buzz for their business endeavors. By doing so, they are also able to make deep connections with their own and each other’s personal histories.
As a proprietor of two online businesses, Martie has the freedom to nourish her adventure spirit on the road while generating income.
30 Years in the Making
One fortuitous connection – or reconnection, that is, after 30 years – that resulted, in part, from Martie’s nomadic lifestyle is her relationship with Judy.
Martie (right), Judy (left), their pet dog and Brooklyn interior
Martie and Judy had dated briefly when they were in their early 30s, but mutually drifted apart as their lives moved on, Judy remaining in her hometown of Albuquerque as Martie moved to the East coast. Then, about three years ago, Martie was scheduled to be in Alburquerque for a conference with The Photo Managers, and looked Judy up.
“It had been about 25 years since we’d seen each other,” she says. They got together, “and we started talking, then dating, and then we admitted our feelings for each other.”
Martie and Judy have continued their relationship over two years since of living together part of the time, and remaining together while separated by more than 2,200 miles the rest of the year.
Not Perfect
For Martie, her life on the road feels like a natural fit. The highlights of her lifestyle are the freedom and the people she meets.
“I like people, I like when I’m with people, and people watching,” she says. “I need time to myself, but I do like seeing people, seeing the way they live, everyone lives their lives differently.”
She loves exploring different parts of the country and seeing the different ways people and cultures are shaped and defined by their environment. “It’s fascinating, people dealing with challenges of different areas, and how people are different depending on where they live. I just find it fascinating.”
As free and interesting as life is on the road, it’s not always easy, Martie emphasizes.
Prices are inflated, for one thing, and paying for hiked gasoline rates makes a noticeable impact. “It really is not that inexpensive to live this life,” she says. There’s the high up-front cost of buying a vehicle suitable for living. And paying for park residence plus electricity at a camp site add to the daily expense.
And every day has its small inconveniences. Martie loves to cook, for example. But cooking in an RV isn’t ideal. “Everything smells like whatever you’re cooking,” she notes. “That’s a little challenge.” Also, it can be hard to get around once you’re parked and hooked up for electricity. You can’t hop in your car and run into town. “In order to go any place, you have to plan around that,” she says.
Finally, just getting in and out of Brooklyn, and for that matter climbing in and out of her elevated bed inside Brooklyn, require physical agility. “Some of these things I probably won’t be able to do anymore at my mother’s age.”
Adventure Dream Life
Still, for now, Martie points out, she wouldn’t trade it. She gets to live freely on the road, and spend extended time with people she loves who live far apart.
She meets a huge spectrum of interesting people and operates two businesses from an office on four wheels. The road is endless and always full of possibilities, and she’s planning an open-ended road trip out to the West coast this year.
Altogether, Martie is living an adventurer’s dream life, and she appreciates the opportunity.
Now stop right there, and take a step away from that new year’s resolution. I know what you’re thinking. You’ll use the new year as a jumping off point to change things. You’ll become a new person. For good this time.
Pick a topic. Exercise. Diet. Money. Smoking. Time management. These represent the most common new year’s resolutions.
“Starting tomorrow,” many of us say, “I’m going to exercise every day.” “From January 1 onward, I resolve to lose the extra twenty pounds I’ve been living with.” Or “No more smoking as of the first day of the new year.” Or “I’m going to start saving $100 a week starting at the beginning of the year.”
But here’s the thing about new year’s resolutions. 80% of new year’s resolutions fail by the time February rolls around.
Why is that?
Too Much Emotion, Not Enough Logic
Partly, it’s because, when we make new year’s resolutions we are committing to changing our habits based strictly on emotion. New year’s resolutions are romantic and dramatic. They’re fun to make and to say because the emotion of the moment is charged and electric. That’s a good thing but it’s also part of the problem.
That electricity, that high emotion, won’t last throughout the year, or even long enough to sustain the habit change. In fact, in most cases, the emotion that inspired the resolution will die out within a month. The resolution fades. The habit change doesn’t stick. We’re back where we started before that triumphant moment of declaring the resolution.
Another problem with most new year’s resolutions is that they are temporary. They’re linked to the new year, and too many of these resolutions are declared without long-term thought, though it’s long-term goals and results that we are aiming for.
Resolutions can be declared any day of the year, not necessarily on December 31.
It’s Not About New Year’s
To be clear, I’m not altogether against new year’s resolutions. Nor, for that matter, am I against resolutions at any time of the year, on any eve, whether it’s December 31, March 8 or October 13. The date doesn’t matter.
Part of my issue with new year’s resolutions is that they are declaring and insisting that we will change because the calendar flips to another day.
But the day is arbitrary. The calendar is a construct, an invention by humans to measure the passage of time. The changing of one year to the next doesn’t demarcate any real extrinsic changes. It only means we have collectively decided that we will all agree that a new year has begun. Nothing more.
Setting Goals
When we make a new year’s resolution, we’re setting a goal to change personally in some way. That’s not easily done, as many a failed resolution might evidence. Making personal habit changes might start with an emotional mindset. But in order to be successful, at some point the endeavor requires a measure of practical thinking as well.
When you make a resolution, new year’s or otherwise, go ahead and start with the big, romantic declaration, “I’m going to lose weight,” “I’m going to cut down on drinking,” “I’m going to bench press 200 pounds.”
But follow it up by chunking it down and setting real, practical goals. If you’re planning to lose weight, great. Make that statement, then get real. Decide, first of all, how much weight you’re going to lose overall. Then how much you’re going to lose per week to reach that overarching goal. Now set a realistic time frame for when you will shed that weight.
Mark the ultimate weight-loss goal on the calendar, then work it backwards. Break it down further into one-week goals. Then decide each day how your goal will work into your life, what you will change to reach your short-term and long-term goals, and add as much detail as you can. Eat less than 2,000 calories a day? Increase your bench press weight by 10 pounds a week? Add 10 reps a week? Restrict yourself to no more than two cocktails a week?
When it comes to resolutions, more specificity equals a better chance for success.
And importantly, be aware when you make a resolution that you are deciding to make a permanent habit change. It’s not about reaching a weight-loss goal and then stopping and putting the weight back on. You wouldn’t decide to quit smoking as your goal and then start again once you’ve decided you’ve succeeded.
Rather, a resolution is about life change, about the way you want to become, for good. To do that, you need to make habitual changes to your daily routine, so that your goal becomes your new way of life. Ideally, after a while you don’t even think about it, it’s now who you are. A person who doesn’t smoke. A person who works out three times a week. A person who wears size 36 jeans. Whatever.
Go Ahead, Make That Resolution
It’s not about the new year.
Setting goals can be done any time on any day of the year. No need to wait for the new year to arrive. If you believe your goal is worth setting, then the time to start is now, today, whenever that happens to be. If you missed the new year and it’s a week into January, no problem. You didn’t miss an opportunity. If you find yourself wanting to set a goal a week before the new year, why wait?
And if it does happen to be December 31 when you decide to declare and set a big goal, that’s fine. Just, perhaps, don’t think of it as a new year’s resolution. It’s a goal you are setting to change your life, and you happen to be committing to it today, which happens to be December 31.
Or February 22. Or June 18. The date doesn’t matter. What matters is your commitment to your goal. So go ahead. Declare, resolve and get started.
The opportunity to make the resolution and act on it is today.
