Posts tagged ‘Adventure’

November 17, 2011

Where has this been all my life?!

It’s always a little disquieting to stumble upon something that you should have been a part of all along. It’s like wandering into a room  and you find all of your friends having a party. It’s not that you were intentionally not-invited, it’s that you somehow missed all of the signs taped to every wall in your house.

Sure, it sucks that you weren’t at the party from the beginning, but now that you’re here, you might as well join in.

That’s how I felt when I fell into “The Dirtbag Diaries,” produced by Fitz Cahall. The worst part is that the signs for the party were basically taped to my forehead, and I still missed them! I’ve been following Fitz Cahall through his amazing collaboration with Bryan Smith on “The Season,” a web TV series following climbers, mountain bikers, snowboarders, etc through a season of trying to live the adventures they set out to complete.

Using the word ‘enamored’ to describe my feelings for both “The Season” and “The Dirtbag Diaries” would be drastic understatements. I’ve downloaded every podcast of “The Dirtbag Diaries” available and pretty much have it on an IV drip. You may think that it would be impossible to edit video footage of interviews while listening to Fitz telling amazing stories of adventurers, but somehow I manage.

Search itunes for “The Dirtbag Diaries” or check them out HERE.

Also, check out the beautifully narrated and filmed “The Love Letter.” You’ll be so glad you did.

May 25, 2011

Taking a quick corner on one of Bradbury Mountain State Park’s Trails

maine mountain biking cycling bicycle trail corner blur speed dirt rock adventure

Taking a quick corner on one of Bradbury Mountain State Park's Trails

May 25, 2011

Racer on the 12 Hours of Bradbury Course

maine mountain biking cycle bicycle dirt trail race bradbury pan blur speed fast rock

Racer on the 12 Hours of Bradbury Course

July 16, 2010

Talking the Walk

Project Tandem Presentation at Asymmetrick Arts, Rockland, Maine

Crisp black and white images line the white walls, while people, glasses of wine in hand, cluster and talk.  At first glance, the scene at Asymmetrick Arts in Rockland, Maine looks like any other art gallery opening.  What gives away that this is something different, besides the myriad regional dialects speaking about their personal thoughts on the environment emanating from the overhead speakers, is the two well-worn bicycles displayed in the gallery’s front windows.  This is not just an art show, but also a talk given by Morrigan McCarthy and Alan Winslow of Project Tandem about the year they spent on bicycles, touring the country and gathering these sounds and images.

Alan Winslow's Giant FCR-3 after 11,000 miles.

11,000 miles.  24,200 pictures.  Dozens of hours of audio.  What we see on the walls and during the slide show is the barest sliver of an adventure that took a year to complete.  Alan and Morrigan, both pro photographers, started Project Tandem as a way to open up the discourse on the environment in the US by letting the voices of rural Americans be heard.  The project ended up being much larger than that.
Originally, the bicycling aspect was more about fuel-free travel and a way to see rural America from the “ground-level” rather than speeding by at seventy-miles-per-hour.  They also hoped that riding up on loaded touring bikes would get people to open up in ways they might not if they stepped out of a car hauling cameras and recorders.  It worked.  “We never once had someone refuse to let us take their picture,” Alan says.  “Everyone just opened up their homes and their lives to us.”
The bikes ended up being the central feature of the project in unexpected ways, however.  “People kept warning us, ‘be very careful.  There are dangerous people out there,’” Morrigan adds.  “That’s not what we saw.  Everyone we met went out of their way to be helpful and friendly.”
From there, the presentation about cycling 11,000 miles is quickly overshadowed by the stories of the kindness of strangers.  They regale stories about running out of food with the next services fifty miles away, only to have a family stop and give them their last granola bar and mini-bag of chips.  They speak of being stuck in a lightening storm and having a single mother and two kids run out into the downpour to bring them into their home where fresh towels and food awaited.  A couple living in a dilapidated trailer, living so far from the mainstream they’d never seen a digital camera, cook them breakfast with the last of their eggs.  A wealthy ranch owner took them in and fed them beef raised in one of his fields.  Alan says, “We got to see the very best of what America has to offer.”

Where did they go?

Looking at the map with all of its pins marking their adventure reminds me how far they went, and my relationship to the Project’s beginning.  I helped these proto-cycle-tourers find the bicycles that carried them around the US for a year: two Giant FCR-3′s.  In a special way, I got to tour with them.  Not just following their daily blog, but also, occasionally, giving technical advice over the phone and mailing tools to them in remote locations.  For my small part of such an incredible endeavor, I got a special thanks during the presentation.  I certainly appreciate it, but no thanks is necessary.  It’s been my pleasure to be one of the countless acts of kindness Project Tandem met along their journey.

Alan Winslow and Morrigan McCarthy of Project Tandem.

April 8, 2010

Meeting People with a Lean and a Scratch

(Boston, MA)
I stand in front of a restaurant near the Boston Commons waiting for the people I’m with to emerge with sandwiches.  I hold Page’s leash and we both watch the throngs of people walk by the in beautiful, sunny weather.  Dozens of languages echo off the sides of the buildings along the narrow street.  An Asian girl with red-dyed hair spiked into a four-inch wedge parks her bike on the edge of the park and wanders onto the grass.  A black woman wearing a shimmering purple dress and glossy purple high-heels walks past looking like she should be making a dash between her limo and a posh night club, rather than tapping down the red brick street in the middle of the afternoon.  A older, middle-eastern couple stop in front of me.  “May I pet your dog?”  The man asks, holding his gnarled hands out.  I tell him yes, he’d love it.  Page is already moving over toward the man.  The old man smiles as his fingers tickle Page’s ears and Page leans into him.  When the man is done he thanks me and rejoins his wife down the block.
Greyhounds love people, I’m finding.  They will calmly walk over to any extended hand.  And there are a lot of hands to greet him.  I had a tough-looking, leather-clad guy ask if he could pet him, with a child-like joy gleaming in his eyes.  There have been homeless people offering him treats (which I decline) and a group of college-age women stop and take pictures of him.  I had a no-nonsense security guard gush to me about the greyhounds he’s owned.  We had a twenty-minute conversation about his dogs, the things they used to do together and loss to cancer.  These are people who I would never have met had it not been for Page.
The highlight comes a bit later when a ragged couple stops us on the street with another offer of treats for the dog.  I politely refuse.  They begin telling us about the greyhounds they used to race.  The man then pulls out a bag of balloons and twists up a balloon dog.  With a flourish of his fingers he, almost magically, twists the tip of the balloon off and presses it inside the balloon-dog’s abdomen to make it “pregnant.”  We stand, staring at the creation in amazement as he hands it to my friend Fumi.
I admit, I was resistant to getting a dog at first, afraid that it would hinder my ability to travel freely. As the couple waves and walks away, however, I understand how wrong I was.  Page is a great traveler.  He loves going places as much as I do, pulling me toward the car every time we go out for a walk.  Though I won’t be able to take him on all of my travels, the trips I do will be filled with new connections with people, as he brings down all of our walls with a casual lean and a scratch.

April 3, 2010

A Climber Falls (A story of Beginnings)

(on the slopes of Volcan Villarrica, Chile, 1999)

Volcan Villarrica, Chile

When I see the man fall, I am imagining my own feet slipping on the icy snow and my deadly plummet toward the jagged rocks far below.  I am climbing the face of Chile’s Volcan Villarrica with the a group of other travelers from around the world hoping to look into the heart of one of the most active volcanoes on Earth.  The surrounding landscape, just coming out of the morning fog that made it look like green islands rising from a silver sea, stands crinkled and lush from thousands of years of tectonic activity.  As the fog recedes, lake Villarrica glitters in the sunshine.

Thousands of feet overhead, the caldera of Villarrica smokes and beckons with the promise of a rare glimpse into Earth’s fiery center.  So we climb, switching back and forth across the steepest terrain I’ve ever been on, using the foot-holes our guide kicks into the grainy snow as stairs.  The snow shifts under my feet when I step down and I have to concentrate to keep my balance.  I grip the head of my ice axe, digging the shaft into the snow like a cane.  My heart races with the thought of falling toward the line of sharp volcanic rocks a hundred feet below.  Then, the man, a paunchy, mustachioed, tourist topples over.  He tumbles down the steep snowfield, leaving his ice-axe, stuck in the snow like a signpost, behind.  We gape as the man falls further and further, performing acrobatic somersaults and flips as he bounces down the slope.  In several languages, everyone shares a communal thought, I’m going to see a man die today.

A few short yards from where the snow ends and the sharp, volcanic rock takes over, the man slaps down into a face-first, spread-eagle dive and begins to slide.  He puts his arms over his head, bracing for impact.  The impact never comes.  He grinds to a halt mere inches from slamming into the rock.  The paunchy tourist, clearly shaken from the fall, stands and waves back at us with a goofy grin.  He is the embodiment of Chilean machismo.

The line of climbers begins to move forward again, one foot in front of the other toward the ledge high above.  My legs and hands shake, and I grip my axe tighter with each step higher.  The beauty of Chile’s lakes region, with its other smoking volcanoes and lush valleys is lost on me while I climb.  I am focused only on keeping my feet in the holes made by a guide who, because of language, I can’t even speak to.  I cross the washed-out step where the tourist began his ill-fated descent.  The adrenalin surging through my veins makes me feel lightheaded.  I realize, looking down that almost vertical face, that I like it.

March 28, 2010

New Blog For a New Direction…sort of

Life’s Fast.

Things seem to be speeding up all the time.  I feel like I’m going to miss something.  This blog is about me trying to experience every moment of an active lifestyle and share it with others through multi-media projects of writing, photography and film.

My goals are to entertain, enrich and encourage people to get out there and have their own kick-ass adventures whether it’s a round-the-world backpacking trip or explore a part of town you’ve never seen before.

The world is out there.  Life’s Fast.  Don’t let it get too far ahead of you because you can never get it back.

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