Hikers Explore

Photo credit: KXRO News Radio

Did elk season start early for two Washington men? Not exactly. This week, two brothers from Naselle, Washington was arrested for poaching two bull elk the day before opening day. The Washington Department of Fish & Wildlife (WDFW) report states that they “decided that archery elk hunting should open a day earlier for them than the rest of Western Washington,” KXRO News Radio reports.

WDFW Sgt. Ryan John and Officer Paul Jacobson secured a search warrant following a report from a local hunter who stumbled upon a gut pile while watching an elk herd on opening day. When the two officers entered the shop building linked to the brothers, initially looking for only one elk, they ended up discovering a second elk right beside the first one.

Caught red-handed, both brothers are cooperating with police. Officers seized and donated the elk to a nonprofit organization and seized the brothers’ hunting equipment, too, according to KXRO News Radio.

Charges are in the process of being filed with the Pacific County Prosecutor.

As mentioned in an earlier post, Elliot Faber recently added The Elevator a line parallel with Transporter Room on Grandpa Peabody at the Buttermilks. In addition to this, he has now completed ZAP, another project he had been eying that branches left out of The Elevator.

Elliot practiced the crux on a rope before going for the solo. From what he says, there are some dicey moves up high to get stood up securely above the hueco and onto the slab, possibly bumping the overall rating into the v9 range. He mentions some two-finger crystals and hard-to-see footholds. A stack of around ten pads was piled up below, but thankfully not needed!

"I'm so excited that it went," says Elliot of the new line, adding, "there are more out there. I'm hungry for the unseen lines." Let's hope it will be a good season for him and that Zack's memory will inspire many great additions to the area.

I am currently working for Gällivare Kommun (our local council).

I have teenagers working with me and we travel around repairing and constructing a variety of things.

This week we have built two 10 metre long tables with benches

A fire place and a wood store

And a fire place with two benches

Progress continues on the tree house

And we have even started painting it.

The Carr Fire near Redding in Northern California and other recent wildfires like the 2017 Tubbs Fire in Santa Rosa demonstrate the danger of wildfire to property and human lives. But what practical approaches can we adopt individually and collectively to decrease the threat of wildfires?

Progressive Fire Management

I attended the excellent talk “Progressive Fire Management” August 9 at Northwest Nature Shop in Ashland, Oregon. It was delivered by Richard Fairbanks, who has 30 years of experience working in fire management, much of that with the Forest Service. Richard discussed key wildfire management events in Southern Oregon and Northern California, with a strong focus on practical solutions to minimizing future wildfire risk to humans and property.

My Main Takeaways from the Presentation

I am not an expert on this subject! But, like most people living in California, Oregon, and the western United States, I am very concerned about the risks of runaway wildfires actually burning our towns and killing people, as they have done in 2018 with the Carr Fire and in 2017 with the Sonoma County fires, and, of course, in many other instances.

I’m sharing these main points as a way to get us all thinking about practical steps we can take now to deal with the situation. I’m not giving details, since specifics of each step are covered in-depth in many other places online and in print.

Wildfires: Be More Proactive and Less Reactive

Public forests and private forests need to be managed and treated to decrease the probability of major wildfires and accompanying smoky conditions that last for weeks. This includes lands managed by major federal agencies like the Forest Service and the Bureau of Land Management, the large holdings of private timber companies, and the small portions of forests owned by private individuals.

Use the Science and Fund the Science

Smart people with both theoretical knowledge and practical experience have been studying forest ecology and wildfires for decades. Let’s make full use of what they know, and let’s also make sure they have adequate funding to continue their research.

Guide Movement of Wildfires

Keep them away from high-value structures and areas and help them burn in low-intensity environments that contribute to long-term forest health. One key suggestion from the talk involves preparing existing forest roads as future fire breaks by selective logging and fuel reduction.

Change Zoning Laws

As populations grow and expand into forests and wild areas, more and more homes become vulnerable to fire. Many good zoning laws are on the books in some states, but more needs to be done to minimize and prevent the destruction of houses, outbuildings, and commercial property. This includes using fire resistant building materials and making good landscaping choices near all buildings.

Reduce Fire Fuels

This is crucial to minimize risk, especially near communities. Landowners can safely do this on their own properties, and government agencies need to do much more of it in forests near towns and cities, and beyond.

None of us like to see the smoke from controlled burns in fall, winter, and spring, but these low-intensity fires remove much of the fuel that can feed summer conflagrations. Controlled burns should happen on days with unstable air when smoke will rise high in the atmosphere and away from our lungs. The National Weather Service is usually able to give good predictions of unstable air.

Increased Number of Firefighters and More Equipment

More firefighters and more equipment means we can slow the spread of large wildfires and decrease their impacts on humans. We also need more year-round firefighters, given that climate change has led to a much longer season due to higher temperatures and decreased soil moisture.

The Need for Cooperation and Compromise

This is my view. Let’s minimize the intrusion of politics in finding the best ways to reduce the destructive effects of wildfires. Let’s focus on on science-based and practical solutions that can gain enough support to actually be enacted. This means environmentalists will not get all that they want, and it means conservatives will have to deal with increased government spending and increased regulations.

Your Take

I welcome your thoughts and suggestions.

Greetings from Ushuaia: ‘fin del mundo’ – the end of the world!

The next land mass from here is Antarctica, and we don’t fancy going there (not yet at least). After 9,000 kilometres travelled, three countries, ten border crossings and over 103,000 metres ascended through the Andes Mountains on bikes — now seems like as good a time as any to stop.

Where in the blazes do I begin with the summing up of a six month journey? I’m going to start where you should always start when feeling a little overwhelmed— where it is the most marvellous.

MY FRIEND FAYE, AND I 

Faye and I were putting up our tents for the final time last night when she paused, mid construction, a tent peg in one hand and her ground sheet in the other:

‘Anna…’ she said.

‘Yes mate?’ I stopped wrestling with my own pop-up-palace, and looked across at her.

‘I think we’ve done really well, you know. I don’t mean the cycling, I mean… well… us.’

I smiled. ’Well?! I think ‘well’ is an understatement Faye-bomb! It’s not normal, living the way we have. It’s enough to drive you bananas. And we still very much like bananas.’

There was a moment of silence.

‘I think it’s been the best thing, you know. Us two.’ Faye continued quietly.

‘Me too mate, me too.’ I replied. We smiled at one another, and then went back to putting up our tents, just as we have done almost every night for the past half a year.

The truth is, cycling up mountains is wonderful. Gasping for oxygen at 5,900 metres high is tougher than I had ever imagined. Dealing with crashes, dog bites, sub-zero temperatures, running out of food, 70 mph cross-winds and gastroenteritis — these are challenges I won’t forget in a hurry. But if you asked me what it is that I am most proud of about this journey, then it’s the way that Faye and I have managed our friendship.

Spending 24 hours a day, seven days a week with another person for six months is quite possibly the most dangerous thing you could do to a friendship. It’s hard to explain the kind of relationship that develops through that kind of intensity.

We are far from blind to one another’s flaws and cracks and ugly bits. In fact, we’ve seen everything there is to see (quite literally on more occasions than I care to remember). But at the heart of it all, there is trust, there is respect and there is patience.

On the outside, Faye and I are very different. In certain areas we couldn’t be more different if we tried (take tent cleanliness for example — I live gleefully in a pig sty, Faye maintains a palace). But at our core we have the same stuff. The good stuff. When all we want to do is fly off the handle or sulk, it’s that good stuff that makes us take a deep breath and pause. The good stuff that allows us to tolerate the silence, or to look past the words that are spewing from the other’s mouth and to actually listen to what it is that they are trying to say — which usually boils down to: ‘I’m frightened’, ‘I’m frustrated’ or ‘I’m hurt’.

In short, our friendship is like a Jammie Dodger. No one really cares about the biscuity bits around the edge of a Jammie Dodger, after all. Biscuity edges are ten-to-a-penny. Biscuity edges break, crumble and turn to dust. But the stuff in the middle — that’s what counts. It’s the jam that makes a Jammie Dodger special. And we both got jam in our middles.

ON ANOTHER IMPORTANT RELATIONSHIP

Most of you will know that I left a very lovely boy behind in England. I could pretend that the decision to spend six months apart was no big deal, but that would be a big fat hairy lie.

I’ll level with you… I freaked out more than once in the lead up to my departure. I cried a bit (a lot), and at times I feared we were making the most stupid decision possible. All the while Jamie McDonald stared at me, blinked, held my hand and said: ‘Anna, this is us, it’s going to be fine.’

And guess what? It has been fine. Goddammit I hate it when a boy is right! In fact, it’s been better than fine, it has been wonderful. Liberating, exciting, all kinds of romantic and a huge relief for two fiercely independent adventurous souls to know that we can both spread our wings, do our thing, and make it work.

So I have learnt a big lesson in not worrying about things that have not yet to come to pass. And I have learnt that thousands of miles and hundreds of sh*t Skype connections are no match for two hearts so full of love.

WHAT ELSE HAVE I LEARNT? 

I have learnt that I am an ‘ambivert’. A what?! Allow me to explain. One of the most incredible things about being on an adventure like this is that I am afforded the time to read. I have devoured over 40 books since leaving the UK (and that’s in between Radio 4 Desert Island Disc podcast marathons).

By far and away the greatest book to pass through my ravenous retinas is ‘Quiet’ by Susan Cain — which uses a mixture of scientific psychological evidence and personal anecdotes to explore the intricacies of introverted and extroverted personality types.

As I turned the pages, I found story after story which sounded painfully familiar. I discovered that I am not (as perhaps others would perceive me) a whopping extrovert. I am, in fact, an ‘ambivert’ – half introvert, half extrovert. Yes I am loud, excitable and I have no problem standing up on stage and delivering a talk to 1,000+ people, but with such excesses of energy comes a need to recharge. To spend large chunks of time in my own company, something which I have always been a little bemused by.

Being part introvert explains why I love to spend hours sat in coffee shops on my own. Why I would rather stay in on New Years eve with a few close friends and some vino, than brave the crowds outside. Why loud bars are my idea of hell. Why I am renowned on nights out among my friends for disappearing for an hour to the toilets, just to get some ‘down time’.

This may be a self indulgent point, but I feel like a weight has lifted. And that right there is the magic of adventure. It opens up doors to new parts of yourself that you never even knew existed. It offers you the space to explore those parts and to reject or embrace them before introducing them to the whole wide world (as I have just done).

WHAT WILL I MISS??

Perspective! Oh how I will miss the freedom to take an oversized step back from my life, and to take stock. There are some that would argue that this has been one rather long holiday, but I don’t see it like that. Time spent adventuring is time invested in the future, and I’d say that’s a pretty good place to spend your beans.

I have spent months upon months alone with my thoughts, unpicking what is important to me, and I’m returning home to the UK with some much needed clarity. I want to write (books, mostly). I want to speak, and I want to continue to find ways to encourage others to blow the doors off life and grab it by the balls. Everything else is just detail (or, more likely — a distraction).

Can I bring a little of that adventure perspective into my normal existence? I hope so. I’m convinced that even a hour a day will be enough. When was the last time I spent an hour of my ‘normal’ day doing nothing but thinking? I can’t remember.

THANK YOU!

So I’d like to say a big fat thank you to Oxford Bike Works for lovingly building Bernard from scratch — he has coped far better than I ever could have imagined. Bernard is nails. To our friends at Crewroom for making sure we didn’t cycle naked (or only when we wanted to). To the team at Caxton FX Card for helping us get access to our spondoolies abroad, and to Ellis Brigham Mountain Sports for donating a tent and sleeping bags to keep us warm and dry at night.

Lastly, and most importantly — THANKS TO YOU! I freakin’ love you lot, I do, my rockin’ Adventure Army, and I wish I could give you all a gigantic squeeze right now. Please pause for a moment to accept the virtual squeeze. There it is. And breathe.

WHAT NEXT?

This journey is done, but it’s far from the end. At long last (!) a book about the 3,000 km run through New Zealand is being released in July. If you’re signed up and following this blog via email, you’ll be among the first to hear the details, or get news about future adventure plans. And if not, you can join the Adventure Army mailing list here.

And if you know others who would be interested in a little adventure-injection to their lives, you could forward them this here post.

Today is a day like any other. Today you got out of bed and brushed your teeth (I hope?!). And so today, like any other, you, and you alone, get to decide how you spend the precious hours between now and when the sun goes down.

Thank you all for deciding to bring so much joy to my life over the past six months. It’s been a blast. Let’s do it again some time..?

Big Love,
McNuff xxx

In an area of the world not typically mentioned at the top of Best Hikes and Places to Go lists is a plethora of gorgeous landscapes, thousands of years of history, and loads of hikeable trails.

Check out the just published article in Hiking Lady’s Outdoor Fun: Places to Go: Trekking in Armenia and Georgia to learn more!

This is Nicholas Kristof’s recent column from the New York Times about finishing the PCT with his daughter, a six-year quest. Kristof has written eloquently about his PCT experiences over the years and several have been re-posted on this site … see http://pcttrailsidereader.com/post/119370718107/go-take-a-hike  

My wife, older daughter, and co-editor on this site encountered the Kristofs on the PCT hiking south from Crater Lake several years ago.  Among the areas where I completely agree with Kristof is the delight of sharing the PCT with family.

Six years ago my daughter and I set off on a hike.

She was 14 when we took our first 200-mile backpacking trip on the Pacific Crest Trail, the great ribbon running through mountains and deserts from Mexico to Canada. It was just the two of us and a few million mosquitoes.

One great thing about hiking with my daughter is that mosquitoes love to dine on her, thus neglecting me. On that trip, even DEET repellent and a head net couldn’t fend them off:

“Dad! I just counted! I have 49 mosquito bites on my forehead alone!”

She was an old hand at outdoor masochism, for we had been going on family backpacking trips since before she turned 2. First, she and I resolved to complete the Pacific Crest Trail in my home state, Oregon. Then we decided to spend a few years hiking across Washington State. After that, how could we not complete California as well?

Each day on the trail, we rose with the sun, carried all our possessions on our shoulders, filled our water bottles from creeks, rested in meadows dazzling with alpine wildflowers, bathed in rivers, and at dusk found a flat spot on which to unroll our sleeping bags and fall asleep while counting shooting stars.

Every summer, indulgent readers have put up with my annual backpacking column from the Pacific Crest Trail. But this may be the last. This summer, my daughter and I completed the rest of the 2,650-mile trail. After six years, we have finished our hike.

So if you’ll indulge me once more, a few lessons from the wilderness:

Escape is O.K. So much is happening at home and abroad that it can be traumatic to leave the news behind, get off the grid and become untethered from email and cellphones. But unplugging occasionally can also be healthy for the soul.

President Trump’s turmoil isn’t the only important thing in the world; another is family.

With the Pacific Crest Trail under our belts, my daughter and I have thought about beginning the Continental Divide Trail or the Pacific Northwest Trail. But more likely, next year we’ll take our entire family back to some of our favorite segments of the Pacific Crest Trail, like Goat Rocks in Washington, Three Sisters Wilderness in Oregon or the John Muir Trail in the California Sierras.

America’s glory is its cathedral of wilderness. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, visionary Americans like Teddy Roosevelt and Gifford Pinchot fought to protect public lands for collective use.

The upshot is that today every American inherits a stunning patrimony, a piece of some of the most beautiful terrain in the world. You may not be able to afford a weekend house, but you’re already a shared landlord of spectacular wilderness. For a day at a time, my daughter and I “owned” dazzling camping spots that even Jeff Bezos or Warren Buffett can never buy. On our public lands, no one can pull rank on you — except a bear.

Speaking of which, on the trail over the years we spotted: two bears, one cougar, one pine marten, one fisher, one lynx, 14 rattlesnakes, and surprisingly few humans.

Nature offers perspective. In America, we live in a world where we mostly control our environment. If we’re warm, we may adjust the thermostat by a single degree.

In contrast, the wilderness is almost always too hot or too cold. It is vast and unbending, reminding us that we are not the lords of the universe, but atoms in the firmament. We are put in our place.

Our most memorable segments of the Pacific Crest Trail were the ones that tormented us. There were exhausting 25- and 30-mile days through the searing deserts of Southern California, and cold rains and icy nights in Washington.

My daughter is an uncomplaining stoic who likes doing handstands on mountain tops, so my internal alarms jangled when we crossed a North Cascades mountain pass one freezing afternoon and she turned to me and asked in a hesitant, subdued manner, “Dad, how do you know if you have hypothermia?”

Nature disciplined us, and sometimes frightened us, by making us ford high rivers, cross steep snow banks — or by getting us lost. Early one hiking season in the mountains of Oregon, when the trail disappeared beneath several feet of snow that had refused to melt, we became utterly lost for a couple of days, so I was thrilled to eventually come across footprints in the snow: We had stumbled on a trail! But after a while, my daughter noticed that the footprints had claws.

“Dad,” she said, “I think that’s a bear you’re following.”

The environmental movement should be not only about protecting nature but also about getting young people out in the midst of it. The writer Richard Louv has worried that children reared in front of screens suffer “nature deficit disorder.” Such children miss the privileges of getting lost, of scratching mosquito bites, of wondering if a toe is frostbitten — of understanding the raw majesty and power of the natural world.

I’m on a book leave this summer, and also glued to the news from Washington. But my escape to the wilderness is an annual therapy session, anchoring me to family and helping put me in my place.

My legs are sore, my blisters are horrifying, and it looks as if I’ll lose a few toenails. All is well with the world.

Elk season is finally here, and hopefully the coming days will find you at the end of a short blood trail admiring your bull or cow elk taken with a bow. But do you know what to do next? Many hunters fear and dread the field dressing and quartering chores simply due to their lack of experience and know-how when it comes to getting the job done in an efficient manner. If this is you, take a few minutes to watch the video below as Fred Eichler demonstrates how to quarter an elk in under 10 minutes.

Fred Eichler has obviously had his fair share of practice when it comes to quartering and dressing big game, but with a little practice, you too can make quick work of your bull or buck when the time arrives.

We want to hear from you. What’s your favorite method for quartering elk in the field? Do you gut your elk or go gutless? Comment below and let us know what you think.

On my last trip to Germany I was visiting the Pfahlbau museum in Unteruhldingen at the Lake of Constance which is an UNESCO World Heritage site. The original houses has been build around 4000 BC and 850 BC.

The museum consists of reconstructions of stilt houses from the Bronze and Stone age as well as a cinematic introduction which is available to every visitor participating in the guided tour (which is included in the ticket price). The artefacts which are displayed in the museum have been found all over the area.

During the guided tour I have learned that such constructions have been built all over the area. Water was considered as the best way to travel and to transport goods at this time as most of the area was covered by dense forest. The lake of constance was considerably smaller during that time and temperatures were similar to mediterranean climate.

Having a steady home also meant that it’s inhabitants had to do farming. Salt was used to preserve food and bronze metal was the raw material to create all kind of weapons and tools during the bronze age.

The price for the ticket was 9 EUR and I found the pricing reasonable since a guided tour is included in the price.

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