The plan was to enter Bald Mountain from the south or east, and the route has been tied up successfully. 4.2_miles.

Buried a friend and neighbor today; Sandy had a long battle with cancer, and fought hard until the end.  She was a wonderful neighbor and will be missed by the entire community.

After the service, I wanted to spend some time thinking so I visited Bald Mountain Area, hoping to get to the top as well as the Pinnacle if I was to be fortunate.

Parked at the Bald Mountain Preserve off Scully Road.

Ended up finding what I was looking for, in slightly over 7-Miles.

 Small Pond at beginning of Route to Bald Mountain, approach from the west.

 Large Boulder near above pond, approach from the west.

 Balanced Rock below the Pinnacle.

Stone Wall North of the Pinnacle.

     Mound and Balanced Stone, north of Pinnacle.

 

Close up Balanced Stone, north of Pinnacle.

Getting out on Shenipsit Trail, off Galbreath Road.  I was hoping to run over Bald Mountain and the Pinnacle, recreating part of an old run a bunch of us used to do every July (Thanks Kevin S).  It has been a very long time since then, and I hadn't visited Bald Mountain or the Pinnacle in well over a decade.

As I hit what was sort of the first peak of the day, on the Blue Blazed Shenipsit Trail, I realized that I wasn't on Bald Mountain, and I wasn't west enough.  Evidently, the old Shenipsit Trail has been re-rerouted!  I have to admit, the work done on this new section is phenomenal.  Bald Mountain and the Pinnacle would have to wait for another day.  Ended up with 8-miles on my legs.

The Whistling Tree. 

 Huge Grouping of Stones uphill from the trail.

Balanced Rock slightly off trail, looking easterly.

  Same Balanced Rock, looking westerly toward Bald & Pinnacle Ridge.

 An Old Well, I've located a few of these in this section of forest.  No Cellar Hole nearby.

Route from the Day.

 

Total for Week, 11.0.

Yearly Total,  98.0

The Metacomet Trail in Suffield, Connecticut.  An easy 3-mile out and back on this route, a trip I have done hundreds of time over the past 23 years.

Sign at the Chimney.   

Tippi checking back on me.  Trail Companion for close to 20,000 miles.

Soaptone, from the South (Hopkins Road).  Did some retracing and back and forth, to connect trails.  We covered roughly 6.2-miles, with many interesting rock settings to witness. 

One thing with Soapstone Area Trails is that there are many, many trails, very close together, often doing the same thing.  I love trails, and connecting them...  but in here there are connectors connecting connectors.  

On the other hand, if you don't like the current trails in Soapstone, just come back to visit in a couple months, and there will be more to choose from.  They pop up that often, built by multiple user groups.

Standing Stone, 5-6 feet tall, along Race Course Trail.

 Shelter Stone, ~8 feet tall.

 Sam & Bobzu within Shelter, for Scale.

 Perched Set Slab.

 Our Route on February 28th, 2016.

Mileage for Week, 16.9.

Yearly Total, 87.0.

Another Visit to the Metacomet Trail in Suffield, Connecticut.  Nice to take an easy 3.1-mile out and back on this route.

Remnants of Old Chimney slightly off main trail.

Nipmuck Trail, from Boston Hollow, along the Marathon Route with Sam & Bob.  7.5-mile out and back.

Stacked Stone near Eastford Road.

Another Angle of Stacked Stone.

More Modern Structure near Natchaug SF.

Pixie Falls, located between "C" and "H" in Natchaug on map.

  Hollowed Tree Roots at Pixie Falls.

 Our February 26th, 2016 route.

Unusually warm, so I stayed out of the woods thinking it may be too icy.  Took the tour of Main Street, Suffield.  about 4.4 Miles.

Total for week:  10;  Yearly Total:  70.1.

On this day in 1995, the 1st Moby Dick Marathons were held.  This was my 5th marathon, with the 28-miles completed in 5:01:00.

It seemed like a good idea, but there are reasons why the event didn't last, especially as a 28 or 30 miler.  Bitter cold, difficult, no aid,  February on Greylock....  seems like there would be many additional "whys".

This run was really special for me, it cemented my friendship with Paul.  We ran the entire event together, and began to dream up our snowshoe series.  Paul and I ended up roaming the woods together for a very long time, we see the same things in nature.

 

 

On this day in 1996 I completed my 9th marathon, the 2nd Annual Moby Dick.  It was a run on snow, and Georgie Hendricks and I wore snowshoes.  The event began at the Greylock Visitor Center in Lanseboro, Massachusetts, and ran up the snow covered road to the summit of Mt. Greylock, then down to North Adams, and back.  Covered the 28-mile version in 6:16:43.  

Here is my old friend's recollection....

ODE TO REAL COLD MEN

So I thought I had seen and done it all vis a vis running in strange places for insanely long distances.  Then the farmer called to remind me of Mount Greylock and his plans to conquer the beast in sneakers.  I looked out the window that morning and groaned.  True dead of winter stuff here, folks.  Driving through northern Massachusetts I looked over at the grin on this guy’s face and knew I was in for it.  I mean he’s Fitzcarraldo, the windmill dude, Dr. Strangelove, all of the above when he gets this look in his eye.  I knew there’d be no stopping him on this quest.

We arrived at the visitor center around 9 in the morning and dodged obnoxious snowmobiles as we walked toward the hospitable lodge.  I sat on the couch and admired the pretty park ranger while Ed ran his hands over the diorama of the Mountain, mentally tuning his Zen state for that morning’s fun.  No kidding now.  This was really the last place on earth I wanted to be.  At least that’s how I felt when I saw that Ranger Sally had a wedding ring.  Then our fellow ghouls straggled in and I could see that this was a for real event.  So I disappeared into the bathroom to write some graffiti on the wall and hoped against hope that Ed would forget I had driven up with him.

SADDLE UP, EASY RIDER!  His voice shook the stall.  I fell off the seat.  Here we go again.  Fortunately the crew had left 5 minutes earlier in pansy ass sneakers.  We Bulls would be lashing Snowshoes for this trek.  Only problem was that I had never worn snow shoes.  It wasn’t a pretty sight.  The first 7 miles to the base of the summit were, however, quite beautiful.  Ed and I even managed to smoke Dion, Joe and the boys.  I should have relished the moment.  It’d be the only Moment that day.  Because Lord Greylock was readying some payback for the proud.

Leaving the protection of the trees below the summit was like getting hit in the chest with a sledge hammer.  Naturally, I wore my 1930’s issue wool hunting uniform and I was soaked in sweat.  50 mph gusts of arctic wind sift through those fibers and find your very white blood cells in no time.  I knew my number was up at the summit, mile 8.  Bob Dion joined us at the top, allowing me a chance to pullback from the duo a little while I waited for the downhill section.  So I waited and waited and waited.  Mile after mile after mile and the damn mountain wouldn’t go down.  Truly dispiriting.  So I did the old, walk, trot, jog, walk thing until I met up with Ed and Bob coming back up the turnaround.  They looked like Chechen Rebels home from a night at the front.

“You don’t want to go there.  Don’t do it,” they warned.  I would have gone, really would have done the upright thing, finished the steep section, real man and all that.  But they had good food.  I thenceforth trailed them like a beggar, picking up scraps they’d toss over their shoulder.  Believe me you lose your pride pretty quick out in no man’s land.  That’s why they call it no man’s land.

It was a mutually beneficial run from there.  Bob and Ed set the pace just ahead, providing me with a little motivation to put one weary foot in front of the other.  And I gave them that healthy fear of failure, of being passed by a highly competitive opponent breathing down your neck.  Yea right.

At the junction leading back to the summit, we stopped to discuss making the extra 3 mile run to the top and back.  I fiercely argued that we had to go the extra yardage and finish the quest or we couldn’t live with ourselves.  Ed said something about bad luck visiting a mountain top twice in a day. Bob kept looking down the hill with an insane smile on his face.  I decided that this crew really didn’t have the je ne sais crois necessary to reconquer Greylock so I took command and ordered my men down the mountain.  Of course I trailed at a good healthy distance in case either of them fell by the wayside.  A really good healthy distance.

Bob and Ed bounded down the hill like kids at the final bell.  I stayed behind and ran to the summit on my own.  And I did it extremely fast.  Extremely.  Extremely enough that I ended up finishing the race in about 7 hours.  The latter hour of which found me crawling on my hands and knees as women in thongs and fine tan lines whizzed by on flaming green and red snowmobiles.  I must have looked pretty scary because nobody stopped to pick me up.  By the time I hit the parking lot, Bob and Ed were fast asleep in their cars inhaling carbon monoxide.  I pulled off my socks in Ed’s truck and watched as my toenails came off in the process.  Seems the crusty buggers had snagged on my wet wool socks.  I hadn’t felt the pain because of the frostbite.

So here’s a healthy Bronx cheer to those of you who decided to opt out of the Greylock quest.  I’m going to say that you really missed out on the time of your lives, a unique opportunity to test your primal bounds, to run with the wolves, to gasp on the edge of being, to wake up around oh....  11:00 on a Sunday morning, lounge on the couch in the sunroom and browse through the paper, enjoy a piece, two pieces of cinnamon raisin toast, take a nap, take another nap, watch an old movie with a pint of ice cream and some cute thing.  Ahhhh heck.  So maybe I made all this up.  But maybe I didn’t.  If any of you get a mouthful of hair when some freak streaks by you this coming season, just look down at his mangled toes.  You’ll know where you should be next February.

Soapstone was so enjoyable Saturday, we went back for more snowshoeing today!  The temperature was up a bit, but still below 20.  There was no sun, and it was damp.  It began snowing soon after our start, and despite the Wuzzam's 5-layers, he felt "cold".  We got in a strong 5.6 miles in 90-minutes.  There was about 1,250' climb - which was awesome to get on our legs and lungs.

 

We are slowly re-figuring the intricate trail network at Shenipsit State Forest.  It was my favorite place to trail run from 1989 through 1993, but me moving a bit further west, and some disruptive logging practices in the forest made the area less appealing for me.

Our goal is to figure out another of our "homemade" marathons for this location.  We have finished some wonderful adventures over the past dozen or so years...  combining McCann, Whitiker, and Shenipsit into something in the 25 or so mile range seems doable.  I have been adding tracks to an ArcMap project, and will soon begin to "rough in" a route.  The explorations have been fun so far.

Today, we were able to get comfortable with additional side trails, and witnessed a fantastic example of "every birch has its rock".

It felt really good to be out snowshoeing.  The effort was rewarding to feel.  I wouldn't mind getting busier with the 'shoes!

Back to Soapstone, Shenipsit State Forest, on snowshoes!

I have been paying attention to the forest, during my Naturalists Studies.  It  is funny, the things that once passed right by with only minor interest from me.  Now, it is like I am on noticing overdrive.

Soapstone has an abundance of rock formations.  I am currently reading Manitou:  The Sacred Landscape of New England's Native Civilization by James W. Mayor Jr and Byron E. Dix.  Glacial randomness may not account for some of the more "interesting" placements.  With open eyes, uniqueness reveals itself regularly. 

Trees have always been important to me;  I feel their power in the ground when I am close by.  Running through the "Elder's Grove" in Mohawk Trail State Forest gives me true power, gained from the height and age of the living, communicating, entities.

The trail we were finishing up on today gave us a really great example of a black birch that may be showing the effects of starting up on a "nurse log".  It is amazing what we can find if we just slow a little, and keep eyes and mind open.

This last rock formation was surprising as it wasn't part of a nearby boulder field.  It sits at about 870', on the southwest side of Soapstone Mountain.

It was a fantastically cold day, but the sun was bright and it didn't feel that cold.  I guess the temperature was in the teens.  First good day of snowshoeing, 5.8 miles in 90 minutes...  slow going with all the stops to cement the magic into our minds.

Map of the day follows, with track and locations of "Prayers in Stone".

Miles for week, 5.8;  Total for Year, 60.1.

Something I do not do much of, stretching twenty years.... a run on the road in Suffield, Connecticut.  3.6 miles just to get something on my legs.

Miles for the week:  6.0;  Total for Year:  54.3.

A visit to Suffield Swamp...

The most accessible woods available to me. I can access this network of trails right from my condo, if the swamp is frozen.  Today, the ground wasn't frozen and it was a bit of a mess throughout the entire 2.4 miles.  I can get a big loop in, without repeating anything, of about 6 miles;  more with some minor repeat. This White Birch is located at 0.9-miles from my start.  It is a beauty...

A little further out, one of my favorites...

On this day in 1998, the 4th Annual Moby Dick Marathons were held over Greylock. I completed my 17th marathon in 6:19:40, with Johnny Bandit.  It was the second time I wore snowshoes for the 28-mile adventure.  It would be the last time I would snowshoe this distance!