A big part of writing is research I find. Reading and gathering facts is important to truth and accuracy especially with historical subjects. I take great liberties with word usage most of the time when engaging in my writing projects. I apologize for improper sentence structure and blatant mistakes with pronunciation. “Mega-editing” has never been my goal here on the blog site.Telling stories in a “real-time” manner is however. I tell a story as if you were standing next to me. In my own words and in the emotion of the moment. What some refer to as “living in the now. It’s that rawness I often mention. There’s a connection to rawness in words and rawness in nature that surrounds my thought process I suppose. That place of truth and simple facts which brings me to today’s subject. Whims. Defined as a sudden idea or turn of the mind. Or even as a sudden desire that is unexplained. Anyone who has ever spent any time around me will attest to the word whim as being a description of my mindset at times. I enjoy playing with words and even creating some. MOONTABS was a creation of mine in 2018. By now you must surely understand my fascination with my own word. I tend to think of it as a word where everyone can find a piece of themselves. As for whims it means more than its definition. It’s also an abbreviation for “Winter Has Its Moments”. Those things and thoughts that only the season can deliver in this four season region of the world. I often associate it with fun recreational pursuits and hobbies. Cross country skiing,snowboarding, snowshoeing, and ice fishing. As for current WHIMs, we recently returned from volunteering on the Saranac Lake Winter Carnival Ice Palace project where we assisted in harvesting the ice blocks for the walls and sculptures. It’s hard work and rewarding at the same time. Zane and I also snowshoed our final two peaks of the Lake Placid 9 hiking challenge. The challenges of winter trekking make it a thrill of a different sort. Heavier layers of clothing and extra safety gear to carry than we would require in other seasons. The knowledge that staying out all night would only happen in an extreme emergency. Far different than a summer hike! There’s a certain “buzz” to be found on a winter trek though. One we chase at times. Staying inside on cold,stormy days can be relaxing and rejuvenating most certainly but only in small doses. So we choose to engage in a variety of winter activities to balance our lifestyle. There is a less glamorous aspect to winter however. Those WHIMs of challenge attached to the rural heritage of the farm property. In the interest of positivity I simply mention them as obstacles. Those things which slow a winter farm workday. In this direction of thought there are profound observations of my dependency on modern technology. Consider the following: upstate New York winter. Cold and snow are the normal here. As a result gaining access to the farm property becomes difficult as more snow continues to accumulate. I typically plow out the driveway and trail to the warehouse about once a week. This involves getting a cold diesel tractor started. Jumper cables, starting fluid, and plugging in an engine block heater often occupy the first couple hours of the workday. A fire is usually kindled in the farm cabin (or “warming shack” as Jennifer calls it!) for lunch break. Once the tractor is started there is hay to feed to the two horses after the trails are plowed. If we have decided to cut and split wood them we also need to break a trail to the wood landing. All this is pretty typical on any given farm outing during the winter. As we approach March we will need to break in the maple sugaring sap hauling roads depending on the snow depth. This can be very difficult at times especially when we get larger accumulations of snowfall. The bottom line is the amount of time needed to accomplish some simple tasks. There’s nothing negative in any of this really. It’s just that every task takes extra effort! Frozen locks and barn doors to shovel out. Slow hydraulics on tractors and wood splitters. Getting the picture? It is in these moments that I realize our dependence on modern machinery. At this point my reflections swing years into the past. Our ancestors who called this winter landscape home certainly faced many challenges. They lacked electricity and modern medicine. They had no gas vehicles with heaters. Traveling was cold and preparedness was key to survival. Heat came from burning wood not from fuel oil, natural gas, or propane. All that being said I like to think that they adapted more to winter than we as a modern society have chosen to do. In nature winter is a time of things becoming more dormant. Trees without leaves but with tiny buds slowly developing. Some animals hibernating while others slow their activities. For some it is the hungry time and they must expend energy hunting to survive. The beavers feed on brush sunk below the ice until spring. Talk about preparing! The pulse of life continues but seems to slow somewhat overall. Our ancestors adapted well to winter living. They broke out their horse drawn sleighs and cutters. Fed hay they had stored away for their livestock. They butchered their meat and used the winter temperatures to freeze it outside. They ventured into frozen swamps and over streams to harvest firewood that was usually off limits. These things I learned talking to my father and grandparents. For my family those things were commonplace and they spoke of them with a certain reverence. Rural people enjoyed certain comforts that we do not. They didn’t worry about airline cancellations or impassable roads. Delayed school buses and power outages. I won’t romanticize their lives as easy or perfect. Just very different that’s all. In comparing their lives to mine I find myself wondering about what may have been lost in all that was gained. And then the inevitable question: without our modern conveniences would we survive the upstate winter? And so begins the questioning of my preparedness or lack there of. All this as I sit in a warm house fueled by natural gas. Electricity and hot, running water. Tv, internet, and the technology to launch this post into cyberspace. Have I become soft and too modern? Is there a better balance to be struck? Should we follow the migratory birds south each fall? Perhaps it is our stubborn love of the four seasons that keeps us here. All these questions and more. Does winter have its moments? Absolutely. The sun is out and it’s warming up some today after our recent cold snap. I have a sudden whim! Travel to Macomb today with the dogs and snowshoe down the Beaver Creek gorge to the ice falls. Embrace this February day and connect to nature as the winter season advances forward. A story waits for me in frozen wetlands. Today is meant for simple pursuits in search of something more simple in its truth. The now is here and the past can be researched tomorrow. The future will show itself. Today is waiting with the thrills of adventure. The recharging of my spirit energy. Whims are good! ✍️
Tag Archives: snowboarding
What’s Over The Next Hill?
The simple words of a title can’t always capture the passion that inspires a story or even come close. Several weeks ago my short and sweet post titled Glamping would break the ice and provide a tiny background into my love of camping. In my desire to seize the moment and hurl myself into the realms of nature all else can fade somewhat. The words must wait as I chase the daylight across the sky. For there is intense energy in the poetry of motion and the magic that waits for us in the great outdoors. It’s as much a part of me as anything. As for the title of this post the words are borrowed. They will forever belong to a man named Wally Byam. I borrow them with respect for they truly resonate within my inner spirit. Who was Wally Byam? He was the creative energy,passion,and founder of the Airstream Company. You’ve no doubt see their signature travel trailers as you journey the highways of North America. Their metal hulls instantly recognizable and truly unique.Why my sudden interest and connection to Airstream? The story is much deeper than even I realized until today. It wasn’t until I visited the Airstream home page and read the story of Wally Byam that I could truly appreciate my connection to his words. Wally’s Creed. Powerful and meaningful to me.It sends a shiver up my spine and adds fuel to a fire that has always burned. As for the video Airstream created it’s remarkable! Check it out! The camera footage of vintage tow vehicles and travel trailers alone makes it worth watching! Why the sudden interest in the Airstream story and Wally Byam? I will need to back up for that one for a few paragraphs. Traveling was not a big part of my childhood or adolescent years. We never owned a travel trailer or even camped.I was the lover of camping! The thousands of acres surrounding us provided ample space for me to explore. Books and magazines connected me to far off destinations. Historically speaking, I have always secretly regretted not being born in the 1800s. Tales of explorers and fur trappers out on those wide expanses of America would trigger my imagination. Western novels of the old west as well. Ranches and cattle drives. Alaska and the frontiers of fortune. Our mom loved to travel but it was hard to get our Dad to vacation so our Aunt Betty Washburn traveled with us! We toured parts of upstate New York and the New England states as far up as Maine. Great memories that time turns hazy as years pass and the decades run together. After our Mom died our father eventually decided that we needed a family vacation around 1978. We left in a giant Ford Mercury. A boat of a car! Two weeks on the road would take us to Arizona and back. The Grand Canyon,the Painted Desert, and the Petrified Forest baked into my memory in the dry,arid lands so very different than home. I loved the experience although towards the end I was rather burned out by the daily long distance itinerary. Miles and miles of travel. Motel rooms and sometimes sketchy restaurants that challenged the digestive tract!But I’ve always treasured that road vacation as it was the only one we ever did together. Our Father’s job,the farm, and my sister’s entrance into college were all factors in lives dictated by time. By work and schedule. Overall the trip broadened my horizons considerably. On the roads we passed the Airstream trailers. “Sardine Cans” our father called them!Fast forward many years. 2012. The Alaska road trip towing a used travel trailer with a new Ford 3.5L Ecoboost power plant. I’d never lost my imagination or desire to travel and with the approach of my birthday it was time. Age 50 was one I’d be taking seriously. Time and travel had been grabbed in small pieces until that 5 week road trip.The trailer was sold in Alaska and never replaced in the frantic years that followed. But retirement in November 2017 changed the game. Zane and I threw ourselves in camping and hiking in the Adirondacks. I met Jennifer.A woman who’s love of travel equals if not surpasses my own. We’ve discussed traveling many times. We’ve experienced some fabulous family vacationing in the Adirondacks and once in California together. The drive to branch out and head off to new places has intensified since the events of 2020 forced restrictions that halted long distance travel.This year we began to seriously consider purchasing a travel trailer or Rv after I sold my home of 6 years. Hours upon hours of research. Endless reviews complete with purchaser horror stories. Indecision began to steal the fun from the moment. Buy new or used? Which brand? Certain ones were impossible to locate and would require waiting almost a year if one was ordered! We found a decent used one that we decided would work this year. We’d order our new one and have it in the spring in time for summer travel. But the deal feel through suddenly and without warning much to my dismay. I began to search once again. I looked at a few new ones here in the St. Law. Co. area but nothing felt right. No offense but there are some rather disposable travel trailers out there. I recently read that the average life of some travel trailers is a mere 15 years! Yikes! Not a good investment considering the cost. I wasn’t thrilled with any of the used travel trailers we located near us. It was a very disappointing moment for me! But the energy of the universe works in mysterious ways. I suddenly began considering an Airstream for the first time. Call it that gut feeling we sometimes get. I previously had felt that an Airstream was beyond our reach as a sensible investment but as I researched every aspect of them I decided that we should try and find one! There were several key factors that factored into that long term investment of features, and quality.Finding one proved somewhat difficult however. But I was not easily deterred once I decided that an Airstream was the perfect fit for my long term vision of MOONTABS. My search led me to Colton Rv in Orchard Park, New York just outside of Buffalo. They had 4 used Airstreams for sale so I made the 4 hour plus trip down on a Tuesday morning just planning to look. I had never stepped into an Airstream despite my researched familiarity with their floor plans and accessories. I ended up buying one! The experience deserves a more detailed post. There’s an energy that lead me there having never read Wally Byam’s words until today. I need to ponder it and try to get the story right! The dream of MOONTABS can be found in the life of Wally Byam and what his company has represented since 1931. Honestly, I still haven’t totally gotten used to the fact that we now own an Airstream and it’s parked in Jennifer’s yard being prepped for a trip! The time spent researching a travel coach purchase is behind us. The open road is there ahead of us! We’re proud of our decision and all it represents for the MOONTABS dream!Watch for an upcoming post showcasing the life of Airstream founder Wally Byam,Colton Rv, and the Airstream family of travel coach’s! It’s inspiring to say the least! As for my connection to Wally Byam? My word’s as a young boy quoted back to me by our father eerily and similarly echoed in a quote of his. They were penned by me in November of 2017. My story is called “The Other Side of the Hill”. I leave you with Wally’s quote: “Keep your eyes on the stars,and the stars in your eyes…see if you can find out what’s over the next hill, and the next one after that.” (Does that give you a shiver or pause to reflect?)I feel I made the right choice without even knowing why. Spirit energy? Or simple coincidence? I chose the energy every time now. It’s going to be a wild ride my friends!✍️
The Transition
March 9th 2021. Winter has retained its grasp upon our landscapes. The tiny thaw during the last week of February was a teaser. Winter struck back hard with a north born chill that held for over a full week. The first 61 sugaring taps we had set sat idle. An occasional drip here and there if some sunlight warmed the side of the tree. We had taken full advantage of the thaw however. We successfully broke in our sap haul roads and trail to the sugar house.We had set up our evaporator and made additional preparations. I changed the oil in the diesel tractor. It is the heartbeat of our small operation. No tractor means no taps or no hauling sap. It will log many hours this season. We find ourselves tapping the furthest we have ever been from our sugar house. A necessity after the loss of most of our former old sugarbush in the 2016/2017 combination drought/tent worm die off . The dead trees blanket our ridges still. A grim and stark reminder of nature’s fickle power.It has been a painful transition these past few seasons. In spring 2018 we didn’t even know the extent of the damage. We tapped trees that appeared to be living only to find they ran no sap. Others only a little. The saw dust from the tapping bit is usually frozen when we tap so there were no tell tale moist shavings. The ones you notice on the warmer days of an advanced season. We had a productive syrup season despite but did not collect well from the number of taps set. In late summer 2018 we scouted our forest and marked the trees with spray paint. Orange:dead needing extraction. Blue: living but compromised.Healthy trees were left unpainted. We didn’t pay much attention to the smaller tiny maples until later. Many also lost. They were the future of our operations.We were in shock at the level of devastation. But there was hope in small pockets of the sugarbush. Some trees had survived!We would hopefully find enough to resume tapping in 2019.That fall we began cutting the dead sections for firewood we needed to heat our home and fuel the sugar house evaporator. The subsequent harvesting is a story unto itself for future posts. About that same time we became friends with our neighbor Tom. His 90 plus acres border part of our property. Tom was building an Rv site on his land and wanted our permission to widen the abandoned Rastley Rd. to accommodate his small camper. We set up a meeting at the farm and had a long conversation. We easily reached a verbal agreement and parted ways with our new friend. Kindness and cooperation are attributes in the realms of human coexistence. We would be rewarded for this in the spring of 2019. We set out that spring to tap the remaining maples we had with hopeful anticipation and resolve. We cleared a trail into a small section of maples at the far corner of our property that we had never tapped. We were adjacent to Tom’s property. We noticed the abundance of healthy young maples that had survived the ravages of 2016/2017 in Tom’s forest. Tom’s land was lower with the ability to retain a higher water table. He had suffered tent worm losses but on a much smaller scale. We reached out to him and brokered a simple deal to tap a few of his maples. We set about 75 taps total on his property. They produced huge amounts of sap and contributed highly to our successful season. A plan began to form at this point. When Tom arrived that spring we gave him a share of maple syrup for his kind gesture. We became better acquainted with Tom that year. We would visit for hours sometimes and brainstorm different possibilities. Fast forward. Spring 2020. Our home heated that winter once again by salvaged former sugarbush trees. Jen and I recovering from surgeries. We were forced to regroup and run a tiny syrup operation. We set a few taps on Tom’s property again. Another worthy blog tale sometime. Tom returned home from the south early that spring and frequently stopped by while we boiled sap away. We brokered a new deal with him. We laid out a trail system in his woods for a sap hauling road that would enable us to reach many healthy maples. Zane,Jennifer, and I cleared the road over a two day period. Tom received a share of syrup once again for his generosity. Fast forward again to the present. 2021. Our home again heated with salvaged maple trees. We have entered Tom’s forest as planned. The tote road is broke in and the taps are set. We now wait for the big runs with may arrive this week. The questions begin. Will the never tapped maples of Tom’s forest exceed our expectations? Will this season be a productive one? Will the tired iron of our old systems survive the long days and nights of production? We can’t answer those questions just yet. But I can say with conviction that the season will be tackled with passion and determination. We’re well positioned and ready to begin the next set of tasks. The gifts wait for us. In the forest and in the old sagging sugar house. Hours spent together and with visitors. Food and simple sugarbush meals shared in wet, muddy clothing. We’ll suffer discomforts in all sorts of weather. We will grow weary physically as the transformation into spring unfolds once again. We will grow mentally and collectively.Bond as family and in our relationships. Jennifer has taken to sugaring and brings positivity to our operation with her determination and spirit. Zane steps forward with adolescent energy. He has become my apprentice of all I know. As I was to my own father. I will pass the torch to him someday if he wishes it. Our memories will be made regardless of the outcome. Those are the givens of this most special of annual hobbies. All else fades in comparison. These story can’t be told in a few short sentences. The sentences are as winding as the tote roads of our sugarbush. Confusing and incomprehensible to some perhaps. Love is not confusing though. Love of traditional rural heritage. Love of nature. Love of rigorous hobbies. Love of those who share these special days with me. The energy of spring brings warming days of returning sunlight. Most residents of the north country revel in it. For some it means much more. These are the days of MOONTABS. We return to the forest this morning to make more of them. The sweet taste of our endeavors will soon be our reward. We have launched. I have launched. Once again into that place that only the drumbeats of tiny sap drops hitting buckets on sunny hillsides can take me. A symphony of spring. A destination of spirit energy on the solid hallowed grounds in the hills of Macomb. A rebirth of sorts that I will forever chase as long as my legs will take me into the forest. I will lose myself in rising clouds of boiling sap steam. Transported from society’s burdens for a moment. There can be no finer moments. I am the most blessed of individuals!For that I am most fortunate and humbly thankful. To stand outside the warm sugar house on a frosty March night as the evaporator cools for the day renews my faith in life itself. A clear starry sky over head. Light glowing between the cracks in the sugar house walls. The crackling of the fire and its inviting warmth. Wisps of fragrant steam that fill the night sky. The knowledge that tomorrow the sap will flow and the cycle will repeat itself. This is heaven on earth for me. I am lifted to the highest of worldly places. It’s time to get to the sugarbush now.
O
Snow bored? No Snowboard!
I share a special bond with my son Zane. He’s been a source of joy in my life every since his birth some 16 plus years ago. I’ve watched him grow into a rather powerful young man these days. On the mountain trails he tests my endure but has learned patience as well. I still hold my own rather well but must acknowledge that he will eventually surpass me. In some ways he already has I’d have to admit. I lead with upper body strength but not by much. I’m ok with the transition actually.It’s inevitable. It reminds me of something my Dad once said a year or so before he died. We were working with our bandsaw mill and moving some heavy planks we’d just sawn. I was on the front end of one and he was behind me. He suddenly said something most profound to me. “It seems like only yesterday when I was in the front and you were struggling to keep up behind me!Now it is I who struggles in the back!” My father was a man of much fewer words than myself of that make no mistake! I’ve always remembered that conversation and think of it as I watch my son move into the lead. My father was an incredible worker well into his late seventies. I still use him as an age based role model when I think a job or task has gotten too difficult because of “my age”. I shared a special bond with my father for many years. A bond forged in hard physical labor on the farm. In the forest and in the fields we spent many hours together working.It paid huge dividends for me over the years. No task on a construction site was ever more difficult than something I had endured on the farm. I think it was in the blazing hot hay mows that my endurance was secured for all time. Zane enjoys a much more laid back life than I ever had growing up. I’ve taught him to work but we take a lot more time to enjoy rigorous outdoor pursuits then actually working. It’s building endurance in him but in a much different manner. In Zane I’ve found a rough and tumble adventure buddy. The older he gets the rowdier the activities seem to get! A couple years ago we were sliding down hill with Jennifer and her nephew Garrett when Zane decided to ride the toboggan downhill while standing up on it!Of course I had to try this myself! It ended with me smashing my shoulder up some after a nasty spill but not before Jennifer had mentioned she thought I would be a good snowboarder. That’s all it took and the following Sunday would find Zane and I attending a beginners snowboarding class. I had done a little skiing over the years. Both downhill and water. But the snowboard was much different and very foreign feeling. Zane picked it up quite quickly and I struggled through the class falling many times. But my stubbornness would prevail. I would manage to pass the class and secure my lift ticket. Not everyone in the class was so fortunate. I spent the remainder of that day falling and getting back up. But I began to get the feel of it and eventually made some awesome runs! I was hooked! Zane’s happy face spurred me on past the point of exhaustion. I left the hill battered and hobbling but feeling something special had been accomplished. A new place where bonding with my son could occur! Not to mention my new sport was exciting and fun! I never went again that winter and the winter of 2020 would find me recovering from a broken pelvis. I watched from the ski lodge as Zane and his friend careened down the hill. Major bummer for me!But laying low wasn’t going to work for me so I pushed myself to recover. We hiked 13 ADK high peaks in the summer of 2020. It wasn’t easy but Zane was my lead dog and we counted them down one by one. I realized something as we finished our final one in September. I was ready to take up snowboarding again come winter! So recently we have gone twice. I took a second lesson before I tried it for my second time. Last Sunday was my third time ever and I finally started to feel like I was getting the hang of it. Zane couldn’t be happier! I drives me on. Pushing through fatigue and sometimes even some pain. It’s worth it ! On the lift together swapping stories and laughing! I feel like a boy at those moments. Not a father with my son but as two snowboarding buddies. They say there is no foundation of youth. I beg to differ. It flows from the excitement of new experience and challenge. From my son’s encouragement as he helps me back onto my feet when I get too tired to get up myself. From his cheers and fist bumps after a gnarly run where I pushed my limits and stuck the run. My battered and tired body heals after some rest. I’m ready for more. I asked him the other day on the lift what comes next?How will he challenge me? The energy flows through the rush of the board strapped to my feet. That need to stay standing to avoid a painful fall. In my son I’ve found a friend and fellow adventure junkie. Who knows what comes next? I do actually! Our next wild adventure came from an idea that I stumbled upon!He’s going to love it and I’m going to love sharing it!Until then it looks like I’ll be healed up enough to hit the slopes on Sunday. More snowboarding fun is in store. Monday’s were always rough when I worked. Now they’re rough in retirement!