Fall Bike Ride to the Bay

Today was a perfect fall day:  bright, sunny and in the seventies.  Michael and I drove out to Northern High School in Owings, Maryland for a long ride.  From the high school, we rode generally northeast on winding backroads to the Chesapeake Bay. We passed yellowing tobacco and soybean fields and the leaves are just starting to turn.  We reached the Bay at 10 miles, where took a break and enjoyed the breeze and sunshine.

Our route followed the shoreline north for the next several miles, taking us around Holland Point.  Every now and then we passed wetlands with Great Blue Herons and Egrets.  Then we turned inland for a while and encountered a few surprisingly good climbs.  My idea of the area was completely flat, which turned out to pretty wrong.  I am not complaining; I love a good climb.  Every now and then, we got a good view of the bay from the top of the ridge, too.

We did 38 miles in total.  One of the challenges of riding in a new area with a cue sheet found on the internet is not knowing local traffic patterns or road conditions (Ideally, one would scout them with a car first, but, well, yeah, that doesn't happen).  A friend and I did a ride last year with a cue sheet that must have been written twenty years ago.  Several of the roads had been "improved" to the point that they were breathtakingly dangerous for cyclists.  Unfortunately, that cue sheet still lives on the internet.  Fortunately, today's ride had none of those problems.  The roads had little traffic, most of which was polite, and the roads were in great shape.

In other news, I'm having trouble with an old injury in one of my feet, which has made hiking long distances problematic for the moment.  Except for an upcoming weekend with Old Rag Mountain Stewards, I am going to be posting more about cycling for a little bit while it recovers.  

Pictures (click to enlarge):

 Sailboats on the Chesapeake Bay.

 An old tractor in a field.

 Aster sp. along a roadside.

The best roads always are...

I'm Back: A New House and a Short Hike to Annapolis Rocks

It has been a crazy end of summer and beginning of fall.  We attended the wedding of two dear friends on Long Island, attended training for Old Rag Mountain Stewards, and bought a house, we finally got back out into the woods out for a short trip with our friend from Horizontal Tread.  We were originally just going to hike the Appalachian Trail from Highway 40 up to the overlook, but our friend suggested bringing gear along and doing some rappelling   The weather was absolutely perfect:  70s and sunny.  It just doesn't get any better than that.  The hike up went pretty quickly, although I could definitely feel my month-long hiatus from the gym. We spent about three hours building anchors and rappelling off of the cliffs.  The scrambles back up a side gully were a good workout and nothing clears the head after several weeks of upheaval like an afternoon spent outside.

Pictures (click to enlarge):

 Getting ready to rappel off of Annapolis Rocks.

 Our friend from Horizontal Tread headed down the cliff face.

 A different kind of bootshot.

 Michael watching our friend reach the bottom.

 Ageratina altissima (White Snakeroot).

 Solidago caesia (Blue-Stemmed Goldenrod) - a sure sign of fall.

 A Turkey Vulture watches us set anchors.

 Aster divaricatus (White Wood Aster) - another sign of fall.

 Descending in the second place where we set up a rappel.

The trail on the way out, lined with Hay-Scented Ferns.

The house!  For the last seven years, we've lived in an amazing, supportive community. We all had each others' keys, had parties, helped each other out, and over time, built a family of people who started out as strangers.  All of a sudden, over the last three months, everyone scattered.  Jobs were found in other parts of the country and rents increased beyond what people could tolerate. We were in the latter category. We are sad to see the group break up.  We already miss the community we had (and don't think we won't be in touch, if you are reading this in Golden, Grand Rapids, near Trader Joe's, or on our old block), but we are looking forward to making the house ours and finding a new community here.

A Short Hike with a Funny Name: Big Schloss

We got out for a quick hike on Sunday.  We went out to Big Schloss hoping to find orchids to photograph.  We didn't find any, but we did have a nice, short seven mile hike and we saw lots of other wildflowers.  We started out in pretty steady, warm rain, but the weather improved as the day went on.  By the time we were on top of the outcrop that is Big Schloss, we even had a little bit of blue sky.

Pictures (click to enlarge):

 A bright, interesting fungus on the Big Schloss Cutoff Trail.  This might be Hygrophorus miniatus as they are pretty small (~1 inch tall or so)

 By the time we arrived at the top of the ridge, we were hiking in the clouds.  This is the junction with the Mill Mountain Trail.

Helianthus divaricatus (Woodland Sunflower) blooming in a clearing.

Aquilegia canadensis (Wild Columbine).  I was a little surprised to see these blooming.  I have usually seen them blooming in June.

 The new bridge at Big Schloss in the cloud

 Suddenly, the clouds parted and we had a glimpse of blue sky over West Virginia.

 Looking south along the cliffs.

 The clearing sky and Trout Run valley below

 A really cool caterpillar.  I have no idea what species this is.

 Another interesting fungus.

I think this is Clavulinopsis fusiformis (Yellow Spindle Coral fungus).

The Trek Part 4: Another Glacier and Rain

On the eighth day, we awoke to a gray, somewhat threatening sky.  There was a sliver of blue in the distance, so I think everyone hoped it would prevail.  Our guide warned us that we had a long day ahead on the glacier, named Skeiðarárjökull.  He also warned us that there would be a lot more crevasses to deal with on Skeiðarárjöjull than on the previous two days of glacier crossings.  Maybe "warned" is too strong a word.  I think he was just trying to set expectations.

We reached the glacier quickly, passing through little bright green moss-filled gulleys along the way.  The mountains we where we were going to camp didn't look that far away, but it was a little bit like being in Limon, Colorado and seeing the Rockies in the distance:  They look sort of close because they are huge, not because they are close.  Getting on the glacier was the easiest of the three.  There was no outlet river or boot-swallowing mud, so before we knew it, we were on the ice.  We spent several hours weaving through and stepping over crevasses before crossing onto a more stable section of the ice.  

By lunchtime, it was raining.  We had a quick lunch somewhat sheltered from the wind by a big volcanic-ash-covered cone of ice.  Fortunately, the rain didn't last long, even if the clouds lingered.  We made it across the ice in seven our eight hours.  Our guide said that we had to climb the "scree of death" to get to our campsite on a bench overlooking the glacier.  It was indeed a climb up a scree slope, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the climb on day six.  The campsite was stunning, even in the clouds and drizzle.  

On the morning of day nine - our last - we had to have breakfast under the tent fly of the largest tent because it was raining so hard.  The rain continued and only got harder as we climbed toward the pass we needed to cross to get to Skaftafell, our final destination.  As we climbed, we started encountering snowfields that scared the hell out of me.  We had to cross a couple that were pretty steep and had really long runouts.  Our guide had to cut steps into them to make them passable.  I was right behind him and when I stopped to wait for him to cut the next step, I had to stop myself from mentally playing out what would happen if someone slipped.  I made myself focus on carefully placing each step.  I have never wanted an ice axe (for self arrest) more.  As steep as the snow fields were, the scree between them was even steeper.  The rain was still coming down and now hard wind gusts made everyone pause to keep their balance.  Everyone was at least partially soaked through to their skin.  I sort of comforted myself with the thought that the weather might be better once we reached the top of the pass.  

We finally reached the top of the pass and...the weather was actually worse.  Stronger winds sent stinging rain and possibly sleet straight into our faces.  We didn't linger on the pass at all (on a clear day, it probably has very nice views).  On the bright side, since we were now on the south-facing side of the pass, there was a lot less snow, making the trip down much less nerve-wracking than the climb up.  We had lunch standing in the pouring rain along a very pretty stream.  In better weather, we probably would have spent time taking pictures of it.  As it was, we ate in a hurry and continued on our way.  We actually had trails to follow now and we made good time.  We even had a couple of minutes of dry weather just before we dropped into the river valley.  I didn't take any pictures on the last day because my camera was buried in a dry bag in my pack.  We got to Skaftafell around four in the afternoon.  

This was one of the harder backpacking trips we've ever done and it was so worth it.  We had a great time and the scenery was simply amazing.  We also hiked with and got to know a great group of eight other people.  We would definitely go back to Iceland.

Pictures (click to enlarge):

 Day 8:  Looking across Skeiðarárjökull towards the mountains.

 Day 8:  A rock fractured by freeze-thaw.

 Day 8:  Volcanic ash-covered cones of ice.

 Day 8:  Hiking towards the mountains.

 Day 8:  A sled that was on the ice.  It is likely from a post-World War II expedition.  Our guide has tracked its movement in the glacier for several years.

 Day 8:  Blue ice.

 Day 8:  Our final campsite.

Day 8:  Looking back at Skeiðarárjökull from our campsite.

The Trek Part 3: Attack of the Hornets, Climbing, and More Waterfalls

We got up on Day 6, packed up, and waited for a vehicle delivering both a new supply of food and an additional hiker.  Originally, three new hikers were supposed to join us, but two of them dropped out.  The food had already been packed, however, so we spent some time sorting through it and sending back the extra provisions.  No one wanted to carry unnecessary weight (but we were happy to see more smoked salmon in the bags).

It was just before noon when we got started hiking up the river valley.  Waterfalls lined both sides of the huge valley.  Most of the time, we were able to just walk in the dry riverbed (where the river was up against the other side of the valley).  When it was on our side of the valley, we had to follow a trail  (yes, an actual trail!) which climbed uphill a bit to avoid the water.  One one of the climbs, all of a sudden, I heard buzzing and then hornets stung me a couple of times.  I was so surprised that I didn't really react except to keep moving.  Michael got stung, too, but everyone else was able to avoid them.  Apparently, the hornets don't like people from Silver Spring.  The trail led us to a basalt wall with a chain.  Our guide climbed up first and set up a belay for us.  I climbed up second, just as it began to drizzle.  Almost everyone (including me) sent their packs up on the rope separately, but a couple of people made the climb with their full packs.  It took a long time for everyone to get up the wall, but the reward was worth it.  Shortly after everyone was up and we started hiking again, we took a quick side trip to an overlook of two of the most beautiful, spectacular waterfalls of the trip.  It was cold and we had a long, uphill afternoon ahead of us, so we couldn't stay long, but I'm glad we got to see them.

Later in the afternoon, still hiking along the same river, we came to a point where there were two canyons in front of us.  Our guide said that we would be climbing a scree slope to get up onto the plateau above one of them.  It started out kind of normal and then just got steeper and steeper.  And it seemed to go on forever.  There wasn't really an opportunity to stop and rest or take pictures because the footing was pretty bad on most of it.  We all made it up, though, and were rewarded with a view of another impressive canyon.  That evening, we camped in the same place we did on the fourth day.

After a night of rain, we woke up to more clouds and it kind of seemed like it was going to be another gray misty day.  We retrieved some gear that we stowed (e.g. crampons) and started climbing.  By the time we were up to the top of the first big hill, the sun started peeking out from behind the clouds.  Before long, the sun was fully out, providing a wonderful morale boost.  We took a break on a rock field that had been scoured smooth by glaciers and then left bare after they retreated.  We had a beautiful view of two glaciers and the remnants of the lagoon, Grænalón.

After lunch, we had our last large river crossing of the trip.  The water was moving impressively fast and was the color of chocolate milk.  While we were changing into water shoes, we noticed that the water was actually moving fast enough to roll bowling-ball sized rocks quickly downstream.  It was a long, cold crossing, but the sun made it better.  Fortunately, it was only about knee deep and we only had to wait for one bowling ball to go by as we pushed through the water.  We actually saw another hiking party of three while we were crossing.  They were way downstream and crossing the other direction, so we never got a chance to talk to them.  They were the only hikers we would see over the course of the entire nine days, once we left the summit of Laki.

We camped that night on a bench overlooking the whole valley.  It was one of the most impressive campsites that I've ever had the luck to use.  The sun stayed out, so the moment we arrived in camp, everyone dumped their packs and spread out all of their gear to dry.  It looked like a gear store exploded on the side of the mountain.  The valley below us, with the two glaciers and the river was so stunning that I think I took 150 pictures of it.

Pictures (click to enlarge):

Day 6:   Looking down the river valley back towards where we camped.

Day 6:  Michael "hiding" in and Icelandic Birch forest

Day 6:  The door to a shepherd's hut built into the hillside above the river.  The door is about four feet tall.

Day 6:  Dactylorhiza maculata (Heath Spotted Orchid)

Day 6: Climbing the basalt wall.

Day 6:  Michael climbing the wall (he is on the rope near the center of the photo).

Day 6: The spectacular waterfalls.  The one on the right is fed by a glacier, which is why the water is a different color than the one on the left.

Day 6: Hiking into the canyon with the crazy scree slope we had to climb

Day 7:  Hiking in the sun through beds of moss and black volcanic ash.

Day 7:  Looking for a safe river crossing in front of the glacier.

Day 7:  Little mud formations.  These looked like a little mud army lined up on the river bank.  The wind blew the drier material out from around them.

Day 7:  The view of the river and one of the glaciers from our campsite.

Day 7:  Our campsite with everyone's gear drying in the sun.

The Trek Part 2: Glaciers, Waterfalls, and a Hot Spring

After some rain overnight, we awoke to sun on day 3 of the trek.  With another glacier crossing ahead of us, we knew it would be another long day, but our food bags were starting to get lighter and everyone was in a pretty good mood.  We took a higher route up to the glacier, so we did not deal with nearly as much mud as the night before and we made good time getting there.  The glacier was beautiful in the bright sunlight.  There were meltwater streams everywhere as it warmed up.  Our guide was hoping to be across it by noon or one so that we would have an easier river crossing on the other side.  Glacial or snow-fed rivers are usually higher in the afternoon as the melting water works its way through the system.  A river that is a rock hop early in the morning can be impossible to ford in the afternoon.

We did not make his goal by a long shot.  It was nearly four in the afternoon by the time we were off the glacier and later yet by the time we got to the river.  We were lucky, though, that the river was fordable.    It was spread out in several braided sections, making each section shallower and slower.  I had been worried about the river crossings.  Immersing my feet in ice cold water causes pain and numbness in about 10 seconds (yes, we do this for fun).   Not to mention the consequences of screwing up a river crossing. Our guide had us cross in groups of four, linking arms, with the biggest person on the upstream side.  The river was fast and knee deep.  Going as a group made it a lot easier.  I had bought neoprene socks before the trip on the recommendation of our guiding company, thinking they wouldn't help at all.  Our guide extolled the virtues of them and I kept thinking, "yeah, whatever, your feet are not my feet."  They were amazing.  My feet still got cold, but they held a layer of water against them that warmed up slightly.  I will definitely be carrying them in the future.  

We camped in the mist near a pretty little stream, surrounded by bright green beds of moss.  The next morning, day 4, we were promised a visit to a hot spring.  We hiked for about an hour, past a completely new river (according to our guide), arctic fox tracks, and another river ford.  We arrived at a pretty little pool that was hot bathwater-warm.  We spent a couple of hours relaxing in the hot spring.  It felt great on tired muscles.  The afternoon was filled with beautiful waterfalls and flowers.  We camped in a canyon filled with pink Epilobium latifolium (Arctic River Beauty).  By the time dinner rolled around, it was raining hard.  After dinner, we hiked up the canyon to the end, but it was raining hard enough that we didn't take any pictures of the waterfall.  

The next morning, day 5, we hiked in the clouds, making our way south towards the coast.  By lunchtime, it was bright and sunny again.  We took a side trip up to a saddle overlooking Skeiðarárjökull, another glacier that is part of the large ice sheet, Vatnajökull.  We also had a great view of the mountains of Skaftafell to the east and, off in the distance, the ocean to the south.  We continued south and east, down a very steep canyon to the river valley below.  We camped that night on the valley floor, next to a four-wheel drive track and a little shack with two toilets and a sink.  The water pipes had been clogged by volcanic ash, so Michael and a couple of other people set out to restore water to the shack.  They were nearly successful, but for lack of a pipe wrench, weren't able to fix the final piece of it.  

We were halfway through the trip at this point and holding up pretty well.  Except for our first hike up Laki, all of our travel had been off-trail.  I only had one minor complaint:  My boot laces were full of volcanic ash (which is basically little shards of glass) and tying them was tearing up the skin on my hands.  They wouldn't dry, so I couldn't shake the ash out of them.

 Pictures (click to enlarge):

 Hiking on the glacier on Day 3.

 Day 3:  The amazing blue ice.

 Day 3:  Michael with a glacier "smore."  Peanut butter, chocolate, and two crackers.

 Day 3:  Finally off the glacier with a glimpse of the mountains.

Day 3: Our first large river crossing.

Day 4: The hot spring.

Day 4:  A pair of Harlequin Ducks working their way upriver.

 The first of the waterfalls on Day 4.

 Day 4:  Epilobium latifolium (Arctic River Beauty) in front of a large waterfall.

 A closeup of E. latifolium.

 Day 4:  Hiking into Flower Canyon, our campsite for the night.

 Day 5:  A relatively small waterfall early in the day.

 Day 5:  Bootshot overlooking the Skeiðarárjökull glacier.

Day 5:  Looking south toward the coast and the valley where we camped.