A Hike on the Beach

On Tuesday, temperatures crested 40 degrees for the first time in months. Feeling like millionaires in Vegas, Dan and I headed to the beach to catch some cosmic rays and go on a short hike on Morris Mountain and the surrounding beaches. Arriving at the parking lot just after 12:30, we set out for the beach. Dan sped up ahead towards the water, eager to do his geological research, studying erosion of a nearby river system, and wandering slowly down the trail towards the beach with the urgency of grandmother on Christmas morning.

The three and a half mile trail follows a seasonal gravel road through marshlands, woods and iconic summer houses towards Seawall Beach. I moved slowly, humming various Pink Floyd songs to myself as I took in the scenery and snapped pictures.

Boarded up for the winter.

Ice, shaded from the sun by evergreens.

After an hour, I finally crested a small hill and heard the faint clapping of shin-high waves. My slow and carefree stroll evolved into a purpose-driven walk as the sand drew near.

Low tide and a washed-up tree.

Where the grass meets the sand and water.

Sand arranged by tides and storms.

Erosion at Popham State park.

Clam pits at high tide.

Clammers digging through the exposed sands of Popham Beach.

I wandered through the knee-high grass and soft sand, enjoying the relative tropic temperatures for hours. I didn't see Dan for some time, but I knew he was out there enjoying the day in his own way. Finally I spotted Dan's blond head bobbing around against the blue of the Atlantic and yelled "Ohhh Helllloooo" in my best Mrs. Doubtfire impression. We sat on a washed-up tree lying parallel to the beach and took in the rolling waves and rustle of sand and wind through the tall grass. I longed for a match to start a campfire but settled on playing music on my iPhone as Dan and I watched the sun sink towards the west.

Here are some more links,
A Hike on the Beach (Picasa).

A Hike in the Snow

On Christmas Eve, my brother, dad and I set out on an adventure into the Silver Star Mountains. A drive up gravel roads to inspect the previous night's snowfall quickly turned into a hike when my dad pulled his 4runner to the side of the road and asked if I had ample footwear for a hike. I looked down at the red laces on my Danner Mountain Light II's on my feet and responded with an unequivocal "Yes."

For the next three hours, we slowly gained altitude tromping around the Silver Star range, overlooking Portland, the foothills of the Cascades and the Columbia River Gorge. We trudged through six inches of snow on the old logging roads that dissect the hills like trails of ants on a kitchen floor as clouds flew past east to west.

My dad, and dedicated proofreader, on the left and my brother Tim on the right. For reference my dad is 6'0".

Frozen leaves on the side of the trail.

The north face of Mt. Hood overlooking the Columbia River Gorge and the foothills of the Cascades. Snow highlights the clear cuts. As a teenager I spent most of my winters snowboarding on Mt Hood's east face.

The sun started sinking below the hills as we made our way back towards the car. Snow trapped around my foot seeped down into my socks like water in a flowerpot. The breeze picked up, numbing my hands as I cradled my camera. My brother and dad charged on ahead as I lingered behind taking photos and listening to the post-storm tranquility. I trudged on smiling ear to ear.

Here are some more links,
A Hike on Christmas Eve (Picasa),
Outdoors (ART).

A Walk in the Woods

I get restless and bored. I guess it's a product of some learning disorder diagnosed by a balding, silver Porsche Boxster (not the S of course) driving 52 year-old, or maybe it's just my personality. On Sunday I woke up to a beautiful, dry fall day and felt a yearning to go explore.

After five minutes of deliberation, my roommate and always eager partner in crime, Dan, and I set off for the Belgrade Lakes to hike the in the Kennebec Highlands Nature Reserve.

Two weeks ago, the autumn leaf canopy shielded the forest from the rain, wind and sunlight. Now it carpets the floor making trails impossible to follow, unless you're Billy from Predator. Early on, Dan and I scrapped the idea of following the well hidden trail and set out directly for the top of a hill through the thick Maine woods.

For an hour and a half, Dan and I trudged through the leaf covered woods listening to the crackling under our feet and the dry wind whistling through the stubborn leaves in the upper canopy.

Crackle...crackle...crackle...

I found this vintage Eddie Bauer down jacket on one of my weekly visits to my local Goodwill. Gotta represent the Northwest.

Hiking through the Maine woods put a smile on my face.

Here are some more links,
A Walk in the Woods (Picasa).