Somerville MA

Since transferring to Northeastern University, Jacob has played with a band called "The New Originals." They haven't had a busy performance schedule but it's been fun for him to practice and play in his spare time. Recently, with guitarist Taylor Davis's imminent departure for Vancouver, BC to continue his Philosophy studies, bassist Dave Piper arranged a final concert for the band and their alter-ego "The Pretty Pennies," and surprised Taylor with a 8-song EP of the two groups songs.

Beth had a two day trial settle and had an unexpected block of time available, so we took a trip to Boston (actually Somerville, right next door) for the show.
The site was PJ Ryan's on Holland Street in Somerville, a place that could have been a great setting for the TV sitcom "Cheers," where everybody knows your name. We arrived before any of the band and the first person I laid eyes on was fellow Calumet staff-alum Dave Benedum, who I hadn't seen in a couple years. Our meeting was totally random and an unexpected pleasure.

Piper, Taylor, the Pretty Pennies and Jacob and Nicole arrived and put on a great show in spite of the limited sound system. Piper surprised Taylor and broke out the EPs to the pleasure of a pretty good size crowd of fans.

During the New Originals set they even let the aging rocker get up for a couple tunes by The Band and "Five Days in May" by Blue Rodeo. Thanks for letting me "sit in," guys!

My New Bike

Back when I was in college, my father gave me his brown metallic Raleigh SuperCourse road bike. He bought it to ride across Canada and I think he used it for that purpose at least once before a knowledgeable bike mechanic pointed out that it really didn't fit his 6'4" frame. He bought a new red Raleigh and gave me the old one, perfect for me at 5'9". Over the years I used it sparingly and fixed it up on more than one occasion. Finally, the cost to repair and replace wornout parts exceeded the original cost of the bike and after 35+ years of use I hung it up for good.

I celebrated the end of this year's Tour de France by purchasing a Trek 1.2 Road Bike and in spite of the rainy stretch of weather we've been having, I've been out for three good rides and must say I enjoy the new acquisition quite some and no little (as Damon Runyan used to say). It's a nice, white model with all the modern conveniences but I'm not into the technical aspects enough to spout all that. Getting out for a ride of 40 minutes to an hour at this point has been alot of fun. Hopefully the weather will clear sometime soon and I'll try some extended rides and maybe try out for the Dirigo High School staff team for next June's Trek Across Maine.

Coincidentally, I received a news clipping from New Zealand from the mom of one of my favorite students. Aaron Barclay is his name and at 16 he's become known nationally for his triathlon and cycling results. While he's hasn't had time to develope fully for the Beijing Olympics which start this week, I'll be watching for him to compete in London in 4 years. He's one of the more determined student-athletes I've known in my 13 years of teaching and I won't be the least surprised to see him represent New Zealand on the world scene. For his two national age-group championships, as they say in NZ, Good on ya, Aaron!

Mt. Redington

Mt. Redington proved to be an elusive summit in the June fog and mist as Beth, Mike and Katie and I followed the herd-path from South Crocker to the col between the peaks. Engulfed in new growth spruce we gave up and returned to the AT leaving Redington for another day. For me, Wednesday this week was the day.

Armed with research from Views From the Top and the AMC, this turned out to be one of my favorite hikes. It's really not much more than a walk in the wilderness, the climb itself is very forgiving and the views north (to the Crockers nearby and Bigelow Range beyond) are excellent. A test wind tower is apparently the reason for the trail from the logging operation below and the summit clearing and the tower has collapsed (as has the initial proposal for wind generation on the peak). The hiker's log is found in a canister marked "3984," obviously placed there before the shift in techtonic plates or the AMC guide, as it's now considered 4010. I've decided to climb all peaks in New England currently listed between 3950 and 4000 in case of a future shift.

After leaving the summit, I found the well-publicized herd-path to South Crocker and before long went off it, not once but twice, before regaining my way. It was following the recent moose tracks that threw me, but I should have known--as Beth reminded me on my return home--moose don't travel in herds.

Crossing South Crocker, I made North Crocker in good time and then crossed South one more time (4X so far in two months), catching a nice view of Sugarloaf on the way back down to Caribou Valley Road.

Redington is worth 4 South Crockers any day. Fresh off my experience with the Maine Writing Project it even inspired a poem:

Ode to Mount Redington

Through meadows of grass and spruce,
greens and browns and reds
and all hues in between,
the summit beckons as a siren,
and the legs and lungs comply.

A decade before the tree-hugger
deep inside me, stood incomprehensibly,
viewing the slopes of Redington cut clear
from the top of Sugarloaf,
before swooping down its wide slopes.

Now I follow the remnants of that logging operation
and a short trail cut to install a wind tower,
a test of the strength of currents across the summit.
The tower has blown over. I guess
they have their answer.

Viewless once, the summit is cleared as well
but pleasantly so and I search for the canister
containing the hiker's log. Elevation 3984 is inscribed but
the summit has pushed its nose to 4010 in recent years,
inviting peak-baggers like me.

A herd-path, a bushwhack to neighboring Crocker
is the choice for my descent. I gave up on that route
in the reverse and rain and fog once, a month
or two before. 'Bush'-whack it is for sure--and
spruce and hemlock branches whip my face as well.

A moose has used this route of late,
huge two-toed prints lead down to the col,
then disappear, much as that hulking animal does,
mysteriously into the brush. I'm lost.
(Moose do not travel in herds, my wife has since noted.)

I wonder what road the poet would have chosen--
herd-path, moose tracks fading
into the brush, ascent to
harness the wind for future generations--
face to face with new-growth spruce.