What Played in Ed's Head -- Music listened to for the time-period February 1st through 28th, 2021:

Music 2021...

Effort #08,  "Simple Man"...  guitars and vocals by Rev King, my old Road Warrior for Christ partner, recorded in Georgia.  Lynyrd Skynyrd cover...

"High Points" along the trails I've visited during February, 2021...

• Paddy Hill, Ashfield, MA
• Seventy Six Hill, Ashfield, MA
• Peter Hill, Ashfield, MA
• Bug Hill, Ashfield, MA
• Sodom Mountain, Dismal Brook Natural Area, Ganby, CT / Southwick, MA
• Mill Hill, Ashfield, MA
• Orcut Hill, Buckland, MA
• Putnam Hill, Buckland, MA
• Mary Lyon Hill, Buckland, MA
• Smith Brook Hill, Ashfield, MA
• Ore Hill, Granville State Forest, Granville, MA
• Hog Mountain, Buckland, MA
• Cooley - Rudduck Brook Hill, Buckland, MA

Main Street before the rain, 3-miles. 

3-miles on North Main Street between rain drops.

Rambled through the Bald Mountain Pond area of Shenipsit State Forest with Wuzzam today.  I was fortunate to wear the old pair of Asic Trail Running Shoes that Wuzzam had placed strategic screws into the bottoms of.  With all the ice in the forest, and the metal projections on the bottoms of the sole, I did not slip even once.

We covered 4-miles in about an hour, about half-forest road and half-single-track trail.  It was good to see my old friend again, it has been a while.

One more time to Buckland area, connecting routes from Saturday and Tuesday.  Completed 8.5-miles, covering terrain I hadn't been on since  February and March of 2008.

It was all pretty familiar to me, once back on it.  

Took a trip to Granville State Forest, to see if any of the snowmobile trails were set.  The temperatures were approaching sixty degrees, the snow was getting very soft, and the couple tracks that were present were fading badly.

I did not make the connection from the state forest to the crossing of Route 57, but I feel I was on the "path", which is a gas-line cut.  The amazing portion of the trip, what made it worthwhile, was a side-path from Ore Hill Trail east to Hartland Hollow Road.  No idea if anything further exist from that point, but it's a start.

Completed 4.1-miles on the snowshoes - sweated like a beast in the warming heat.

Driving north, I stopped off in Ashfield at the Bear Swamp Reservation, and completed a large modified loop connecting a series of snowmobile trails.

Some of this route, I hadn't been on since 2004 (Smith Road to Apple Valley, the Cemetery Road section heading down into Buckland, and the Hawley Road to Bear Swamp Road).

Once I got at the elevation low-point in Buckland, I ran the roads back to Apple Valley, and climbed up Smith Road, which is a bit of a beast when tired.  In retrospect, I should have just taken the snowmobile Trail from the bottom as I ended up adding some distance on by taking the "easier" road section.

Once near the farm on Smith, I pushed through a few hundred feet of knee deep snow in the field until I could reconnect with the snowmobile trail.  From there in, a feeling of satisfaction.

Completed a total of 14.4-miles, with close to ten of it on snowshoes, and just under 3:30 for the entire adventure.

Remington Loop, 3.5-miles of road-running.

3.7-mile run on on the Bridge-Main-Kent-Wisteria-Dylan-Bridge loop after a half-day at work.

Began the day putting on the snowshoes around the intersection of Apple Valley Road and Smith Branch Road in Ashfield.  I've hit that area often over the past decade on the Ashfield Trails, but today I wanted to get over to the crossing at Clesson Brook Road.  I have often thought of that section, but have never explored it.

This would get me up onto Orcutt Hill, and from there I wished to turn east over Route 112 and then take the old climb I once came down with Tippi in December of 2007, up to the Khandroling site.

From there, I would head past Mary Lyon Hill continuing south before taking a western turn on Baily Road down off the ridge, joining Hodgen Road once we crossed back into Buckland, and for the final mile I would take the snowshoes off along Route 112 until getting back to the car at Apple Valley / Smith Branch Road.

Completed 11.1-miles, feeling pretty good throughout.  The morning was bright sunny and despite being high twenties felt great.  Once I began coming down off Mary Lyon Hill things clouded up, the wind rose, and it was much colder for that last hour.  Topping off the difficulty, the Baily Road section only had an old set of cross-country ski tracks on it, which slowed me down considerably.

Very satisfied with this loop today, I have connected more of the network.

We woke to find this fellow "hatched" in our kitchen this morning...

And from the Marathon Archives...

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.

PH and the Memorial Tower

 

 

From the Archives...

On this day in 1996 I completed my 9th marathon, the 2nd Annual Moby Dick.  It was a run on snow, and Georgie H 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.  

Sitting over Adams

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.

Music 2021...

Effort #07,  "Mr Soul (Take 2)"...  second version of Neil Young's classic from the Buffalo Springfield time-period.

Recorded in the basement studio, solo.

The conclusion of the "I Heard Mr Young Sing About Her" session.

"Any girl in the world could have easily known me better..."