Tag: aging adventure

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?

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August Adventure Month: Day 22

Mt. Marcy summit, Adirondacks, New York

I declared August 2021 Adventure-a-Day Month (yes, I can do that)! Every day of August, I embarked on some type of adventure, 31 days, 31 adventures, some big, some small, some physical, some mental. It’s my way of making adventure part of everyday life. I write about each adventure below.

Day 22: Sunday, August 22
Climbing Mt. Marcy, NY (high point)

I love the Adirondacks. Mt. Marcy, just outside of Lake Placid, NY, is the state’s highest point at 5,300 feet, so I was able to add another to my ongoing endeavor of standing on the highest point in all 50 U.S. states. This climb is long and meandering, gradually up through woods for more than six miles before an intense rock climb for the last mile to the summit. Then the trees clear and you get this incredible view of mountains stretching in all directions. I heard the crowds swell atop Mt. Marcy, but on this day (as Hurricane Ida thrashed Connecticut and other lower regions) the crowd was minimal. Another high point climbed, this was a good one. And I couldn’t resist getting a shot of these gorgeous wildflowers near the top.

Adventure: Climbing Mt. Marcy, NY.
Distance traveled: About 16 miles hiking RT.
Challenges: Enduring a long hike, scrambling up rocks, rationing water and food because I didn’t pack enough!
Risks: Slipping and falling, turning/spraining an ankle, dehydration.
Difficulty scale 1-10: 7
Highlights: An awesome view and lovely winds atop Mt. Marcy. Great payoff for the long hike getting there.

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August Adventure Month: Day 20

I declared August 2021 Adventure-a-Day Month (yes, I can do that)! Every day of August, I embarked on some type of adventure, 31 days, 31 adventures, some big, some small, some physical, some mental. It’s my way of making adventure part of everyday life. I write about each adventure below.

Day 20: Friday, August 20
Paragliding lesson 2

Today’s lesson was slightly disappointing, though still enjoyable. Because there was so little wind, we were not able to lift off the ground with our paragliders. Rather, we practiced “kiting,” that is, lifting them off the ground and getting them to hover overhead, to get a feel for the wind and how to work it in concert with the paraglide wing. My appetite for paragliding is still whetted, but the ultra-dependence on the wind and weather in order to successfully do this activity give me some apprehension. I want to fly, but I’m uncertain if I want to invest the time and money to become adept at an activity that I can engage in only a handful of times each season. Under consideration

Adventure: Second paragliding lesson
Distance traveled: About 55 miles driving to Morningside, NH.
Challenges: Steadying a billowing paraglide wing overhead in unsteady wind.
Risks: Tripping and falling while running for launch.
Difficulty scale 1-10: 2.5
Highlights: Getting a feel for the paraglider.