Tag: adventure

Posted on

Adventure in the News

August 2022

4,800 Miles Hiking, One More Time

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.

Posted on

An Early Morning Ice Ride

January 13, 2022

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.

Posted on

What Have We Done Lately?

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.

Summit of Mount Pierce, New Hampshire White Mountains
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, White Mountains
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.

Many more White Mountain trails to explore.

Posted on

Adventure in Profile

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.

“I have felt like I’m very lucky,” she says.

Posted on

Happy New Year! Now Please Step Away From that New Year’s Resolution

New Year’s Eve, 2021

Happy New Year!

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.

Posted on

10 Tips on How to Eat Holiday Treats Without Feeling Guilty

Food and eating are essential components of adventure. And adventure is significantly impacted by what we eat.

Not only can preparing, cooking and eating a meal or snack be an adventure in itself. But any adventure we take (unless, I suppose, it’s an adventure about fasting, which is sort of about food – the absence of it – too) includes food as a necessary and often appreciated companion.

So for us adventurists, giving thought to food as the fuel with which we propel our adventures is an important part of planning and maintenance.

Sweets Everywhere

The problem is, this time of year, smart and healthy eating – the kind that is optimal for adventuring and aging – becomes threatened, or at least more difficult. Because, starting at around Halloween and running nearly half a year all the way to Easter, we’re inundated with sweets and treats, delectable desserts and scrumptious confectionaries that wreak havoc on our waistlines and steal away our energy. Kids bring home shopping bags’ worth of candy bars, sugary pieces, sweetened assortments and saccharine niblets.

A few weeks later Thanksgiving arrives, the one day of the year when gluttony is celebrated. (Pumpkin and pecan pie!) Then the assorted holiday cookies and goodies start to arrive. And there’s Valentine’s Day and Easter treats, all conspiring to thicken us up, slow us down and make us crave the couch, a blanket and Netflix.

Smart Ways to Eat Sweets

Look, the treats aren’t going away, and neither are our natural appetites for yummy eats like cookies, chocolate, pie, cake and other pastries. No one I know is perfect, and few people are able to resist these fattening temptations one hundred percent of the time.

But sampling these irresistible food options doesn’t have to result in guilt and self-flagellation. There are ways to have it all, to partake in eating sugary goodies and enjoying them while remaining physically healthy and retaining your adventurous, ready-for-action mindset.

Here are 10 tips for eating those holiday treats without the resultant guilt and lethargy.

  1. Give yourself permission. You know you’re going to eat that treat. It’s sitting right in front of you. You might as well try it. But before you do, grant yourself permission to eat it, and decide you are not going to judge yourself or feel bad because you do. You are going to enjoy it to the fullest.
  2. Eat it slowly. Instead of wolfing down that bonbon or that slice of cake, slow down and savor every bite. Eating sweets is enjoyable, so make it last a while. Make yourself chew it longer than you normally would – at least 20 chews for each bite. And set down your fork or spoon or the uneaten morsel between bites.
  3. Focus. This is related to #1. As you slowly chew that treat, focus your attention on the way it tastes, the joy of the sweet flavor concoction dancing on your tongue. Feel the textures and notice the consistency of the bite, how it changes as you savor it and how it satisfies when you swallow it.
  4. Document how it feels. This is a good practice in general. But when you have a treat, make a note of how it feels to eat it, and how you feel right afterward. Then set a timer for half an hour later and jot down again how you feel. No judgment, just an honest documentation of how you were affected by eating that treat. What do you notice? What do you learn from this exercise?
  5. Be grateful. Once you’ve finished enjoying that delicious consumable, and even while you’re enjoying it, be mindful of the joy it’s bringing to you. Be aware of how lucky you are to have the privilege of eating this sugary gift. You could even say “Thank you” aloud or express your gratitude in other ways. It will enhance your experience.
  6. Move. Have your treat and enjoy it. When you’re finished enjoying it, make a plan to move. Outside or around the house, it doesn’t matter. It also doesn’t have to be a lot. Some yoga stretches. Some light calisthenics. Maybe a quick game of Twister with the kids. Engage in some kind of movement to encourage digestion and blood flow, and start to burn some of the sugar you just consumed.
  7. Count it. Eating sweets is one of the joys of life. But over-indulging on sweets, or anything, is rarely a good choice. Many of these tips will help you avoid over-indulging without noticing it, but to push the point, count the treats you eat so that you are aware of the quantity. If you want to be disciplined while enjoying holiday treats, set a quota ahead of time. Allow yourself a certain number of treats per month, say, or per week. I’ll leave the number up to you, but try to stick to the number you’ve set. (Even if you don’t stick to it, that’s fine; just counting will likely help you cut down and avoid over-indulgence.)
  8. Balance. You’ve just taken in a high dose of sugar. Ideally, the best way to help digest that sugar is to have eaten a snack of protein and fiber before the treat to offset the effects on your body of the sugar and avoid a blood sugar crash. If not a healthy meal, try a handful of nuts, especially pistachios, an apple or a hard-boiled egg.
  9. Drink water. During and after indulging in sweets, it’s important to flush the sugar through your system, convert the excess into fat and avoid a dump of insulin to re-stabilize your blood sugar. Too much sugar in your blood can over stress your nerves and brain. Drinking water can also help remove sugar caught in your teeth and gums and prevent tooth decay. The worst thing you can do is wash down a sugary sweet with a sugary drink!
  10. Time it wisely. If you’re going to eat something sugary, the best time to do so is after having eaten a healthy meal with protein and fiber. Sugar in limited amounts can help give us energy and assist us through a droopy afternoon. Taking sugar after a workout can help restock muscle. Eating sugary snacks (ice cream anyone?) late at night is a common but not advisable practice. It can interrupt good sleep and contribute to an upset stomach that’s working overtime to process the sugar. It can also lead to acid reflux, another potential sleep disrupter.

Go ahead, enjoy that dessert. Just do so wisely, mindfully and with a few practices that won’t allow your sugary indulgence to make you feel lousy and douse your energy for adventure.

Bon appetit.

Posted on

How to Stay Calm in Rough Seas Filled with Large Sharks

Black tip reef shark

I’ve been scuba diving for about 20 years. Most of my dives have been in the calm, tropical waters of the Caribbean, on the massive reef running alongside the coast of the Yucatan peninsula near Cozumel, Mexico.

For several years I made an annual dive trip and fell in love with Cozumel and the Palancar Reef. Ideal for diving. Visibility for a hundred feet. A full rainbow of colorful coral and fish, and warm, relaxing water. Currents can be strong but they’re usually steady. And in my experience, the sharks have been small – mostly nurse sharks no more than four feet in length, and keeping their distance.

On Thanksgiving Day of 2021, I got a different diving perspective when I dived a couple of tanks with my son, Elliot, off the coast of Big Pine Key, Florida. We boated about an hour south from land to check out the Looe Key Reef. The sun was shining but the wind was blowing, making for a rough, undulating, bucking ride out to the dive site on our 18-foot catamaran-style boat.

The water’s surface was frothy and choppy as we dropped the six feet into the sea off the side of the boat and did our checks before submerging. More challenging, the strong current was fitful, like the wind. Strong splashy waves followed by a couple of weak laps, so that you let down your guard a bit. Then another, stronger wave splashing seawater in your face.

Salt water slopped into our eyes and noses as we checked on each other, our heads bobbing just above the surface. It was time to get down. We bit on our regulators, took a couple breaths of air-gas mixture, then deflated our buoyancy compensator vests and descended under water.

As we dropped to 10 feet, then 20, clearing our ear pressure, the surface current eased and we got a clear view of the billions of gallons of ocean spreading another 20 feet beneath us. This would not be a particularly deep dive, 40 feet at the deepest. But that’s plenty of depth in which to float and flit along with the fish.

The Largest Shark I’ve Ever Seen

After about 10 minutes of floating and swimming through and over coral mounds, enjoying the plethora of vivid colors and fish – parrot fish, lion fish, barracudas, groupers – I spotted the largest shark I’d ever seen while diving. He or she circled about 20 feet away. Nurse shark, we figured, but larger than those I was used to seeing in Mexico. This one at least 6 feet.

Our shark maintained its perimeter but continued circling, a large 180 around us. I kept my eye on it, not because I was alarmed or worried about an unlikely attack, but because I was mesmerized. These ancient creatures are the kings of the sea. They’ve adapted over 450 million years to become a relatively intelligent predator at the top of the food chain. And as long as you don’t threaten them or their offspring, they are not likely to attack.

We floated for a while longer when Elliot pointed off to our 3 o’clock. I looked and peered through the dim haze of water and saw nothing. I looked back at Elliot and he pointed again. Again I looked and saw nothing. I gave him a big shrug, letting go of the moment. We turned and continued swimming.

Then I saw it. At least eight feet long. And fat. About five feet below me, a Black Tip Reef shark (we determined this later). It was hovering against the sea bottom, then suddenly curled on itself and swam away from us.

Now I got it. He was pointing at this sizable shark. And despite the unlikelihood of a shark attack on a diver, I would not have come so nonchalantly close to this beast if I had seen it. One doesn’t want to spook them.

Astronomical Odds

A few statistics learned over the years helped me stay calm so close to a shark that outweighed me by more than 150 pounds.

For one thing, even if a shark decides to come after you, there’s little you can do to avoid it if you’re in open water. It definitely won’t help you to panic and try to swim away, that may be the worst thing you can do because it might prompt the shark to pursue. In the event a shark does show signs of aggression, it’s better to hold still and maintain eye contact, or better yet, start swimming toward it. At that point it will likely swim away.

More importantly: A scuba diver’s chance of getting bitten by a shark is one in 136 million. It almost never happens. Sharks are curious to check out divers, but once they see these floating, bubbling animals they move on to less threatening prey.

Sharks primarily eat smaller fish and invertebrates. Some larger sharks may prey on seals, sea lions and other mammals. In other words, sharks don’t want a fight, and they’re not looking to eat humans.

Surfers, and to a lesser extent, snorkelers, are more likely to be attacked by a shark because the shark mistakes these surface splashing creatures for seals, one of their favorite meals. Still, the odds of anyone getting attacked by a shark remain low – about one in 17 million. And we humans are much more likely to die of heart disease (one in five), cancer (one in seven) or stroke (one in 24) than from a shark attack.

Comforting, I know.

A perfect Thanksgiving sea rainbow spotted on our way back from diving.

A Long, Wet Slog

I regard encounters with sharks as I do run ins with bears, snakes, moose, drug kingpins and other predatory animals. Keep your head down and move on. Most likely, these animals are not interested in attacking you unless they are threatened.

A while after our shark encounter, Elliot and I emerged on the surface and spotted our boat a good five hundred feet in the distance. We had a long, slow swim against the current to get back, and our air was running short.

Back on the boat, headed for shore, we agreed: that last slog to the boat, fighting the strong current the whole way, was more harrowing than anything we saw under water…including 8-foot sharks.

Posted on

Why Biking in the Dark Offers Rewards Over Daytime Riding

It’s late November, a cool time of the year. Temperatures chilling, air drying, leaves nearly all fallen, holidays on the horizon. Snow usually has not yet shown itself yet at this time of year.

In other words, late November is the perfect time for outdoor activities like hiking and biking.

The only problem is, there’s not much daylight. Once we set those clocks back to accommodate our weird and futile ritual of Daylight Savings Time, we only get about nine hours of natural light within the 24-hour cycle. For us working folks, that’s about enough time to prepare to go to the office in the morning and spend the day there.

By the time we’re heading home, it’s nearly dusk. If we do want to bike or hike, our only option is to do so in the dark.

Light Up

For a couple of reasons, pastimes like hiking and biking are not typically done in the dark.

For one thing, there’s the safety issue. Biking at night requires some precautions – at least a raised visibility and bright lights – that daytime riding can skip. And in order to hike at night, you should probably be familiar with or knowledgeable of the trail so you don’t wander unknowingly and dangerously near a precipice.

But safety issues can be overcome with good headlamps and bike headlights, with backup batteries and lights.

Nighttime activities can be a little spooky for some people. You simply can’t see as much, and that unknown factor alone raises the hairs on some people’s necks. The woods have a different feel at night, different animals scurrying about, different sounds and feel.

And cycling solo at night can be eerie. No kids at the dimly lit playground…creepy. Not as many people walking about, and very few other bikers on bike paths. For some that’s a positive. Others are spooked by it.

Into the Desert Night

I hadn’t taken a real bike ride at night until recently. When riding my bike across the United States in May-June-July 2021, I faced a 111-mile crossing of the Mojave desert. It had to be done in one day because there’s nothing out there, and the early July forecast projected 107 degrees. Not a place I wanted to camp.

My heat-avoidance strategy was to take off riding into the desert at 2 a.m. in relatively cooler temps. It was 90 degrees when I departed from Parker, Ariz., into the Mojave. And very dark.

Mojave desert sunrise
After three hours of dark riding, the sun peeked up in the distance behind me.

I had been nervous about the ride, especially riding alone into the desert at night. I had my superb headlight illuminating the road, two blinking taillights, reflectors on my rear-facing panniers and a highly reflective jersey. I was visible to the rare trucks ambling by on the road, I could tell by the way they backed off the gas several hundred yards behind me, signaling that I had entered their field of vision. No doubt I appeared as a strange apparition in the desert night, not something they expected to see. But it worked.

What I discovered in those few hours riding through the pitch black Mojave before the sun peeked up over the eastern hills in my rear distance, is that riding at night is a wonderful experience.

The feeling is so distinct from daytime riding that it’s like a whole different sport. The air is cooler, of course, but also stiller and more serene. The night is calm and peaceful in a way that the bustle of day can’t offer.

If I were to do that night ride across the Mojave again (which I probably won’t, for several reasons not including the enjoyable night ride), I would likely take off earlier, like midnight, in order to extend the pleasant night ride.

A Whole Different View

Ever since my night in the desert, I’ve been much more open to riding in the dark.

Recently I took another night ride. Here in November, it’s a wholly different sensation than a steamy summer desert ride. But it’s still serene and peaceful. Everything takes on a different visage in the low light. You see your hometown in a completely distinct way.

Of course, it’s colder at night, and in the Northeast in November it can be in the 20s or 30s. So extra layers, head coverings and gloves are a necessity for a pleasant experience.

I also wear my eyeglasses at night instead of sunglasses. They allow me to see more clearly and provide some eye shield from the cold wind.

It can take a mile or so to warm up. But once you do, the cool night air offers a refreshing balance to your body heat. The quiet and stillness envelops you and the lack of long views can create a sensation of floating. In remote areas the only thing you can see is the beam of light in front of you created by your headlight.

That’s where you’re going. Everything else is shrouded in a blanket of black. Except for the sky.

If you’re fortunate enough to be a in a rural area riding at night, be sure to look up. It may be cloudy and somewhat obscured. But if it’s a clear night, you are treated to a dazzling display of the billions of stars and planets that are always out there but only visible to us during night hours.

Into the Night

I encourage anyone with a bike to venture out in the night. It could be early evening, midnight or pre-dawn. You’ll get a perspective you haven’t had before, and it’ll likely surprise you. You might see people and sights you’d never see in the daytime.

No matter what, you will definitely get a fresh perspective.

It’s short-term adventure at its finest. Some challenge, a little risk, a new way of seeing things.

Take a ride. Into the dark.

Posted on

A Road Trip to Florida

A landscape view of the sea and a small island from Rowell's Waterfront Park, Key Largo, Fla

I’m always up for a road trip. There’s no feeling quite like hitting the open road in a car, the excitement of rolling miles away, the escape out of town, the change of perspective, music playing, scenery changing and open, endless road stretched out in front of you. There’s something about a road trip that inspires contemplation and a fresh view on life.

Now, some people might not label a road trip to Florida as much of an adventure. And, relatively speaking, it’s not that exotic.

Still, it checks the boxes for my definition of adventure: it’s an activity out of the ordinary; it holds a degree of risk (if you’ve driven on the Florida freeways, you know what I’m talking about; it certainly involves movement, literally in this case; and it includes a modicum of overcoming challenge.

Like some of the best adventures, my most recent road trip to Florida was borne out of necessity and urgency. My son, Elliot, who lives and works in Key Largo, was the victim of a hit-and-run rear-end car accident (his car was rear-ended; see above re: Florida drivers). As an unfortunate result, his old car was totaled; that is, not worth the expense of the body work it would take to fix it. So he needed a car, and his mother happened to be considering buying a new car anyway. So I volunteered to drive her Nissan down to Florida for Elliot to use.

This was an impromptu trip, and I opted not to take time away from work in order to do it. That meant I had very little time for the trip. Now, From Western Massachusetts, where I live, to Key Largo, at the very bottom of the state just where the string of keys begins, is about 1,600 miles. At a good pace, you’re talking about 24 hours of driving.

To avoid heavy Northeast traffic, I opted to leave at 7:30 p.m. on a Friday and drive through the night. It was a good move, as I whizzed through New York City and New Jersey, buzzed by Philadelphia, and cruised along the Washington, D.C. beltway, I-495. The drawback of night driving is the sacrifice of any scenery. It’s just you and the dark highway with shadows of trees and the moon’s glow keeping you company.

I crossed the border from Virginia into North Carolina at around 5 a.m., ready for a nap. I pulled into the first rest area I saw. Thankfully, I was piloting an SUV that had plenty of stretch-out room in the back, and I came prepared with my well-used sleep pad and sleeping bag. Slumber came quickly and lasted a solid hour and a half, all I needed to invigorate more hours on the road.

Six more hours of friendly, rural daylight driving (minus gas and food stops) brought me to the Georgia border with Florida, and a sign that let me know, to my disappointment, that I still had six more hours to go to the keys. Florida is a long, flat state.

The details of driving through Florida are murky. At some point along these straight, flat roads shooting due south, you glaze over the reedy, swampy inlets of swamp. Now and then the view is gorgeous, like when you catch the open sea off to the left and it beckons you. But you don’t want to become too enamored with these drivers speeding dangerously past at 90 miles per hour.

I navigated through Miami highways in mid-evening, hopped happily onto Route 1 out to the keys, and arrived at my son’s place in Key Largo around 9 p.m. Exhausted, but, thanks to caffeine, ready to take him out for a beer at his choice of venue.

I spent Sunday with Elliot and flew back Monday. A compact adventure, and mission accomplished.

Along the way I learned a few things, as one always does during adventures big and small. I learned that, for me, it doesn’t matter what mode of transportation I’m using to go from one place to another. Car, truck, bike, walking, hiking, running, boating. It’s all good. The movement is the key factor, and for some reason I am happiest when I’m moving. I can’t be the only one. I’ll continue to study this phenomenon and write more about it.

I also relearned, as I do every time I travel across this country, that the United States is diverse, often beautiful, and vast. One of my favorite aspects of traveling is observing the gradual and sudden changes in terrain, landscape and culture. Seeing how and where people live.

I returned from my road trip to Florida with freshened perspective, renewed energy and a few memories. That’s why we take adventures.

Posted on

All for 15 Minutes Atop Mt. Greylock

Bike to Mt. Greylock summit, Massachusetts

Ride: Easthampton to Mt. Greylock summit, RT
123 miles, 9,000 feet climbed

Some goals aren’t about the goal. Some goals are about everything surrounding the goal: the planning, the anticipation, the work, time and travel spent achieving the goal, and the return from that achievement.

Cycling from my home in Easthampton to and up Mt. Greylock, the highest point in Massachusetts at 3,500 feet, was an all-day endeavor. It’s about a 50-mile ride just to get to the base of the mountain on the southern side, and that’s if you don’t take any wrong turns or waste valuable time blindly following your nav’s direction into a rabbit hole of mountain bike trails for which you’re not equipped.

As it is, riding from Easthampton to the Greylock base in Lanesboro is 3,700 feet of climbing up out of the Valley. Your mph isn’t going to be optimal even without the mountain bike trails.

I headed out my driveway at about 7:20 a.m. The day was perfect, about 60 degrees to start, a few clouds and clearing up. I made good time, as one may, to Williamsburg. Then the climbing started, up Route 9, five miles uphill to Goshen. From there, up and down to Cummington and a requisite stop at the Olde Creamery. Four miles beyond the Creamery, my nav suggested getting off Route 9 onto Main Road in West Cummington. I was eager to try an unfamiliar route, so I followed as the roads began climbing steeply, then narrowed, then turned to gravel, then dirt. Finally, I found myself on a single-track muddy suggestion of a path littered with bowling ball-sized rocks and stream crossings testing both my riding ability and my gravel bike’s endurance. My bike, True, who, after all, recently took me across America, was plenty tough enough. It’s just that, I was spending a lot of time and energy traversing this mountain bike trail, and I wasn’t close to Mt. Greylock.

When I finally found my way off the mountain bike trail, nav again suggested a turn and I took it, eager to get back on track. I rode a mile in and the road, now gravel, abruptly ended. There may have been a path there through the woods, back sometime in the 1960s? But little sign of anything trail-like now. So I begrudgingly turned around and headed back to the main road, cussing the entire way.

I came to Route 116 and realized it would take me to Adams and toward the north side of Greylock, not where I wanted to be. (The north road up Greylock is much more difficult than Rockwell Road on the south side.) So I opted to add about eight miles to the route, and take the time to head back down through Cheshire and work my way over to the south base of the mountain. Again, gravel roads, and my phone carrier now loosening up so that my phone fell out onto the road at one point.

Was I suspecting at this point that my Greylock trip was in jeopardy? Yes. Did I consider for a few minutes bagging the entire goal and trying another day? Yes. Sometimes it’s the smart move. Unfortunately, I too often ignore such omens and push through, which I did.

By the time I got to the Greylock Visitors Center on Rockwell Road, I’d ridden 63 miles and climbed more than 3,700 feet. The summit, my goal, was still eight more miles away and 1,700 feet uphill. After a break and a snack, I started up the steep road.

Reaching the summit of Greylock was a spectacular triumph. The weather was about as good as it gets and the views were/are stunning.

For 15 minutes. Ironically, I determined that the climbing of Greylock wasn’t as difficult as the ride to get there.

I’d have gladly spent longer up on Greylock, but because I’d taken wrong turns and pretended I was a mountain biker on the trip there, I’d lost too much time to dally at the top. I still had 60 miles to ride back home. And anyway, I’ve been atop Greylock many times, and will be many more.

The ride home was 1) grueling, 2) long, 3) a rush in places, and finally, 4) a relief. In brief, the climb out of Pittsfield up to Windsor on Route 9 was brutal. My back was killing me as I plodded along literally in my lowest climbing gear. Again, climbing up from Cummington to Goshen, hard and slow.

But once I reached Goshen, I knew I was golden with about 22 miles to go. I turned on the speed, 5 miles back downhill, Goshen to Williamsburg in 10 minutes, 30 mph all the way and loving every second. Then an easy jaunt on the bike path all the way home from Haydenville back to Easthampton. I rolled in at 6:45 p.m., dusk setting in.

This was a goal on my list since last spring, a big one. I set my personal records for one-day mileage and climbing. As I relaxed later that night, I couldn’t help thinking ahead to more, bigger goals. Could I make it from Easthampton to Burlington, VT, in one day?