The Newfoundland Expedition, August 2011, Part X

Heading for the summit!

 This post is going to have a lot of pictures.  However, I won't make them all full sized, since you can click on the pictures and go to a full sized slide show of each of them in massive detail, so I will let you check most of them out that way.   So click away and enjoy!

Saying goodbye to Ranger Harold!

Okay, on with the show!

Today we started with breakfast, and packing up our backpacks for the climb and overnight on Gros Morne mountain.   Abigail was feeling a lot better, getting good sleep, and the trip was a go for her too, which had been a concern and factor as to whether we all went up or some stayed and some went.   We were doing our dishes and packing the truck when the green park services pickup truck rolled into the kitchen shelter parking area and Ranger Harold Snow hopped out.   He was the ranger that took us on the hike to Bakers Brook Falls, to see the big moose up close, and told us stories about living around the park that we loved.   He told us where to go to take some good pictures up on the mountain, and to bring warm clothes, his final pieces of advice. We said our goodbyes and then we headed out.

The map at the trailhead.

Gros Morne Mountain, from the trail.

We stopped by the Visitor's Center and picked up our backcountry passes.  The ranger there told us that we have to be on the lookout for a bull moose that was hanging around the pond near the camping area and to give him a wide berth and not bother him.   The reports were indicating that the rut was starting a bit early and he seemed aggressive, and they didn't want to have to interfere with him due to a bad interaction between the moose and people.  Which we understood and agreed with, of course.

We have to ascend the steepest
part of the mountain in "The Gully"
which is viewed behind me.

The boardwalks were great
in some sections along the way.

At the same time, some of us where checking our email and Facebook accounts and found out there was an earthquake in the DC/Baltimore area, so that was pretty unique too!   We didn't feel it up in Newfoundland, though.

The rangers also told us that if the top of the mountain was shrouded in fog or clouds, or the wind picked up too much, that we should not try to ascend because of the dangers of low visibility, cold, hyperthermia and injury.   The weather looked sunny and great, so we were excited, but she explained that it could turn very quickly, and that at night the clouds descend as well and that we should make sure we were at the campsites before dark.  

A small pond at the base of the
mountain.  We are about to leave
most of the trees behind at this point.

Eventually, we headed out and up to the trailhead, shouldered our packs and headed up.   It was fairly evident in the first fifteen minutes that most of the group was going to be moving a lot faster than I was, so I stayed at the end of the line and they sprinted off ahead of me.   My pack wasn't really that heavy, since we were just going for one night, and it wasn't anywhere near as heavy as it was just a few weeks ago when I led the Adirondack Expedition back in New York!  Still, it seemed to get heavier in proportion to the climb.

At the last stop before
heading up, up up!

Looking at this view, I can only say
'This is why we came all this way!'

The trail up was good, with lots of wooden stairs and wooden boardwalks at times, as well as fairly clear  paths heading up through the woodlands to get to the base of the mountain.   There were a few places to stop and rest, and I caught up with the group at those times, and took some pictures and checked in with everyone.   There were a lot of people heading back down the mountain, who had already been up early and hiked it up and back already.   Most of them looked very sore and tired.

The lichens that grow on
the rocky scree on the
mountaintop.

One kid who was about thirteen or so looked like he had been crying on the way down, and gave me a baleful glare like I was the one who had tricked him into going up the mountain.   His mom looked pretty guilty and didn't even look me in the eyes.   Others were in great shape and all, but were still pretty happy when I told them they were pretty close to the trailhead.

Stopping to admire the view in the
Gully.

I stopped along the way and took pictures and a little video of blueberries, partridgeberries, snowberries and bunchberries.   I thought it was a good way to stop for a very brief break and take videos of the trail, the view, etc.   However, when I got home and then downloaded the video, I could hear how out of breath I actually was!   Anyway, I am not sure how much of it I will use, but we'll see!

A good sized cow moose, browsing
near the Gully trail.

We reached the last trail resting point and saw our way up the Gully, which was a long, rocky gorge that goes straight up the mountain.   It looked intense and I felt a certain sense of foreboding and excitement at the same time.   Everyone else looked well rested and ready.  We took a few pictures and then shouldered our packs and headed up.  

At times, the Gully trail seemed to
go pretty much straight up!

When we got to the bottom of the gully, there was yet another sign warning us to not attempt the climb unless we could see clearly and the weather was good.  We went up, since we had fairly clear skies and a nice breeze.    By the time I got a quarter of the way up, I could see Ben and Abigail moving through the narrows, where the trail was partially obscured by brush and small trees.

On the summit, it was surprisingly
flat and very cold.

The trail started to close in on the sides as I approached the narrows, and I stopped to take a little video of the 'trail'.  It was basically laughable, as it was virtually indistinguishable from the rest of the rock shards all along the gully and mountaintop.   This kind of rock mix is created when the surface rock is frozen and refrozen until it breaks into smaller and smaller, sharp edged rocks called 'scree'.   They were jagged and sharp, and many were large and tilted and shifted on almost every step.   You had to really pick your way along and head up, up up, and I wanted to try to record what it was like to hike this trail, the views and everything.  

Abigail, Rick (me), Japhy, Nicole and Ben.  
We made it, and after celebrating for about three minutes
we had to quickly change our wet clothes and put on
wool sweaters, hats and layers!

I finished recording and then I heard a noise of something moving through the brush.   I turned and looked behind me and there was a moose, browsing on alders and spruce saplings, seemingly oblivious of my presence.  I was a little closer than I would have liked, because I couldn't really run away very easily on the sharp rocks, should she charge me, but I sensed that she was fine with me being there.   In any event, she didn't seem to indicate that she saw me except by the motion of her ears moving backwards from time to time, listening to my slight and quiet movements.   She moved into thicker brush and I began climbing again.

The view to the north on the northern edge of Gros Morne mountain!

When I started walking down this
wooden stairway down the mountain,
I felt a lot like Po on Kung Fu Panda!
My knees and ankles were saying
'My Arch Nemesis: Stairs!'

I guess I will skip ahead to the part where we made it to the top, and we were all on the summit and took a picture!   When I got there, Ben had already taken a video of some Arctic Ptarmigans, and Japhy had gotten some good pictures of an Arctic Hare, and they were bundled up with wool sweaters, hats, and lots of warm layers and jackets.   I was so hot I didn't know if I would do that just yet, but three minutes later, the wind was so steady and strong and cold, I broke out my sweater!  

The mountaintop trail!

The top of the summit was covered with broken rocks, lichen, tiny windswept willows, alders and native berry shrubs.   It was flat and looked like it was just about to snow.  The cloud ceiling was literally a hundred feet above us, and the cold air was filled with moisture from the massive oceanic bay of the Gulf of the St. Lawrence to the west.   The sun was beginning to set, and the light was thick with every color of the spectrum.   The warm, wet air pushed up the mountain and fjords, and we could see the air turn into clouds right before our eyes, as it condensed.   It was awesome!

Where the mountain air turned to
clouds before our eyes!

The top of the mountain had long stretches of rocky paths through the barrens, and also some boardwalks, which were mercy on my sore ankles and knees!   I was wearing some hiking boots that I used for hunting last year, and they really didn't feel that great.   We went along the path to the edge of mountain on the far side, and saw a view that there was just no words to express how amazing and beautiful it was.   We loved it, despite the cold wind.  

This was a great, great moment, standing here!

We took a lot of pictures, and just stood there, seeing a landscape that was virtually unchanged for centuries.   It took my breath away.   I saw waterfalls coming off of the distant cliffs, and inaccessible ponds and rivers and streams that beckoned my imagination for probably the next three weeks at least.

There were a lot of photos taken
at this spot!

The sun began to sink down lower and lower, and we still had three or four kilometers to get to our campsite, so we reluctantly pulled ourselves away and began to move down the trail down the back side of the mountain.   I saw what I think were caribou tracks and moose tracks and moose droppings, too.  I found a ptarmigan feather that was so white and pure, it startled me.  It was a wing feather, one of the primaries, and it had a black stripe on it and some grey speckling close to the quill.  It was almost exactly like a ruffed grouse primary, except it was so white!   I felt so good just to see it and hold it in my hand!   There were a few other feathers around, breast feathers and such, so I thought maybe a falcon or an eagle had a snack on this bird, but maybe it got away....

Abigail captured me lumbering
along the trail.  She was slow
because she was taking lots of pics.
I was slow because I was slow!

The view looking East...

Abigail poses in front of the pond
near our campsite.

Then came the stairs.   It was like a temple, only it was going down, down down.   Seriously, it was amazing and scary, all at the same time.   And I will tell you one thing about stairs after climbing the Gully:   Going down hurts!   I guess I am going to sound like I am too old to be hiking the mountains, but I am just keepin' it real, people!   The stairs were just a little too tall, so each step dropped you down far enough that your thighs got an amazing workout, or just about killed you, depending on your age, I guess!

Can anyone guess what this is?   

The bottom line is, I made it.  But the next thing we saw on the trail was moose droppings.   A big, whopping pile of it, and it was fresh.   Remember the warnings from the Rangers?   Despite the pain, my memory was still alive and kicking, and I knew we had to be careful and aware.   I caught up with Abigail, and then we saw it.  A huge black shape in the brush at the northern edge of the pond.   It was big.   It looked like two moose!   I could hear it move and it sounded like ten large trees were breaking under it's massive hooves.   We both froze, and then we tried to get a picture, but it was too dark.  There was no way to get a good shot, but we tried.   And I was hoping my zoom would let me get a glimpse of it's rack of antlers.

No deal.   We moved very quietly, stealthily down the trail to the other side of the lake and met up with the rest of the group.   We set up our tents, and started our dinner.   I think it was burritos, with refried beans that were dehydrated, and lots of cheese and salsa.   It cooked quickly, but with four ravenous hikers staring at it, the pot took forever to boil.   Then we had cookies, and it was good!

Our small camp on the
edge of the pond, behind
the Eastern edge of Gros
Morne Mountain.

However, the wind began to howl, and it was freezing.   I had changed my clothes as soon as we stopped hiking, but that cold was cutting in deep.   We cleaned up and I dove for the tent and my warm sleeping bag.   I loved that thing, seriously!   It felt so good to be curled up and feel my own body heat radiate around me, relaxing my muscles.   I was sleeping in my little tent, nestled in the ancient mountains of Newfoundland, dreaming in this ancient land, surrounded by wildlife that seemed to have no fear of us, and the strength of the mighty stones!  

It was a long, good day.   I thought for a moment or two about the sharp hooves of a bull moose taking a disliking to finding a tent near the shore of his pond at the beginning of the rut, but maybe the burritos were a good call?   We didn't have any problems, and I was too tired to care!

Coming Up: The Sacred Hunt and Wolverine Survival...

Two weekends. Two workshops. Two experiences that will change the way you see the natural world.

This fall, we are offering The Sacred Hunt: October 16-18, 2009. It is more than a simple hunting skills class. It's about learning to hunt in an honorable way, in a way that is connected to the heart, to the soul, not only of you but to the deer, and nature itself.

Hunting is a culmination of need, awareness, tracking and being human. It is part of us, our thousands of years of living close to the land. It isn't something that I take lightly, and it is far more than simply attempting to kill an animal.

Hunting provides food for our families, hides for our clothing, all kinds of tools and a way of challenging our skills to the very limit. It provides me with a bridge to the spirit and the sure knowledge that we all live and we all offer our lives as a gift to the earth, to the spirit that moves in all things, to the people, and to our families. We offer ourselves to the people we love.

Wolverine Survival
October 30-November 1, 2009.

The wolverine brings up all kinds of different feelings in people. In the old days, trappers hated wolverines, calling them gluttons, raiders that followed their traplines, taking their marten and foxes and fouling the area with a rank musky stench.

To the native people, wolverines offer a model of warriorship, of ferocity, of unbridled intensity that matched the massive grizzly, or a full pack of wolves. They can travel the most remote wilderness areas with ease, preferring to climb over a glacier or mountain pass than go around it. Their fur stays frost free even down to -50ºF and they sleep pretty much anywhere they please. Wolverines were the model for fighting spirit, for tenacity and power.

Modern science has found wolverines to be caring parents, and not always living up the ferocious loners portrayed in comic mythos.

In this course, we study the skills of survival that are necessary to living close to the earth, providing ways of making shelters, fire, tools, hunting weapons and utensils. We will learn to walk with awareness, hear more, see more and understand more about the natural world, where you will view the natural landscape as your ally and friend.

We have great discounts, great food, great cabins and you will never see the natural world the same way again.

Actually, I already said that!

Anyway, hope to see you there!

Signs of Spring, in Upstate NY

I knew spring was coming when I saw a flock of robins descending from the sumacs across the lawn, in a red-breasted frenzy, searching for the first worms...

I knew spring was coming when we were tracking by the stream, and the heavy back feet of a doe told the story of the fawn she was carrying, as she headed for the rich meal of alfalfa shoots and sharp pointed blades of grass.

I knew spring was on it's way when I heard the ladder backed woodpeckers chasing each other around and around our sugar maples, fighting for the prime nesting place and the best territory to win a mate... They made a huge cackling and melodious racket, hammering on dead trees and then flying in their undulating patterns, like three teenage boys jockeying for position at the dance...

I knew spring was coming when the curled, purple-red-green tops of skunk cabbage poked up in the dead grass by the river, with their shiny smooth skin and pungent smell.

I knew it was spring when the snow comes in thick from down south of the valley, covering the trees with wet clumps of gray-white snow that will last for an hour or so before slowly sinking into the earth and the tannic brown vernal pools where thousands of tiny frogs peep and croak in rhythm, in an orgy of mating and egg laying and exploring their watery world.

I knew it was spring when I walked outside and didn't need a coat or even an extra sweatshirt.

I knew it was spring when the snow melted and I could see all of the crap that accumulates after a long winter of covering snow, all over the yard and the trails and lawns. Sticks, small bits of peeling paint, wood chips, ashes from the woodstove, bits of bark and scraps from the wood pile, or the occasional lost mitten or glove.

I knew it was spring when I saw my first woodchuck of the season, licking salt in the side of the highway. A hundred yards further, my first dead woodchuck of the season....

I knew it was spring when the camps begin to fill up, with friends and students and the promise of summer begins to awaken like a seed, ready to take root.

You take a long time to get here, Spring, but we are sure glad you are getting closer!

Facing the Unknown: Healing and Growth in the New Economy

This post could be titled "What I've been doing for the last three weeks", if I am being totally honest. And you know what? I could easily just say that I have been boiling maple sap, going to schools, ice fishing, tracking and painting the farmhouse. All of which are true.

But that wouldn't be exactly honest, now, would it?

I mean, it makes for a great newsletter, you know. Wilderness guy takes the brush and roller in hand, makes maple syrup, goes tracking and ice fishing and all that homey stuff you come to expect from Hawk Circle and me, maybe.

Nothing wrong with that. In fact, it is really good stuff. Usually.

But in this case, it isn't good enough. No. Not nearly good enough. Because if I tell you all that good stuff, you know, how we tracked some fisher, some foxes, or bobcats, or had fun trying to catch fish through the ice, whatever, it wouldn't be real. It would feel fake, or more correctly, like a half truth. And I can't do that this time.

The whole story is that I have been going through a lot in the last three weeks. A lot. Feelings of all kinds have been ripping through me like waves, and I have been working hard to understand and integrate what has been going on.

You see, I am a guy. A man. And we don't have the reputation for a huge emotional range, or familiarity with the five thousand different shades of emotion and depth. (Think: A hundred different words to describe snow, or something like that!) Which doesn't mean we don't feel them all. We do.

It's just that we are hard wired to be more fight or flight types. Rather than communicate all of those feelings.

So, why all the feelings? What is going on?

Well, it's the economy. The uncertainty. The fear. That is definitely creating a fight or flight response. Except there is no where to flee too, and usually no one to fight with.

I see it in the faces of the men I play basketball with. A lot of them are scared. Nothing is predictable anymore, and things that seemed rock solid and sure have evaporated like the morning mist. It doesn't feel good, for a man, who wants to be able to tell his family that things will be all right, and feel sure about it, and for them to know they can trust him, to feel that way in this new world we are living in.

Trust me, most men are wired to get food, provide, and lead their families, their band or tribe, through the cold and the dust to a good place. A place where we can all feel good and positive and build something beautiful for this life, for this world. But I know I can't do that right now. Many of the instincts and senses still work, but the messages are conflicting. And so much of our lives are based on connections and relationships that intersect and make each other stronger and better.

I know all the stuff about the wolverine and everything, and that is good stuff. It is good to focus on that when we are preparing for action. But when you are painting for hours on end, or sitting in the cold wind boiling sap, you start to think about things. And feel those feelings. At least, I know I have.

It is hard right now for us. Enrollment in our camps is very slow. Scary slow. We have afterschool groups going on, and a small semester program, too, but the flow of income and energy is trickling and we are an organization that doesn't have vast resources of cash reserves, or an endowment, or anything like that. So we take action, we work hard, we leverage our resources, all that good stuff, but in the end, we wait to see what happens. We can't really add to our debt right now, and most of the banks aren't lending either. We do what we can, like everyone else in the world right now. We pray. We are thankful for what we have. We offer our mission and our lives and our vision to the Universe to help guide us through these times.

I know that if nothing else happens in this crazy world but this, I will be thankful. Because this experience has opened me to healing and my own growth that is so powerful and profound that I can't express how grateful I feel about it. It has been an opportunity that is like the perfect storm, if you know what I mean. The right conditions, pressure, winds, whatever, to create the energy and will to heal, to grow, to change. For me! Of all people, me. Which I have needed for a long time.

I am not getting too personal here, because when healing happens for me, it happens across the full spectrum of my life, not just in one area or another. Everything. And I have been waiting for a long time for this. A long, long time.

Most of it surrounds the fact that I have worked and worked and worked, as hard as I know how, as I am able, to help Hawk Circle and the circle of staff, students, campers and community, to grow and prosper and find hope, renewal and light in this world. And I have struggled with myself as much as the challenges that lay before us, working against myself, ironically enough, to find a way to grow. The feelings of despair, of disappointment, and frustration usually are there, just under the surface of my consciousness, for not being able to bring Hawk Circle to a stronger place, a more secure future, or to be more successful than it is.

(Just a side note: I am proud of all that we have accomplished in the last 20 years, and I feel great about where we are going, too, and how so many people have believed in us and still support us in many different ways, it is overwhelming at times too!)

However, the threat of the slow economy and the realities of low cash flow has only served to accenuate my fear, my own inability to be better than we are, etc, and opened my whole self to letting go of my own expectations and stress, and look within. Which has been very scary. And good too, at the same time. I know it sounds crazy, but things are crazy right now, so it kind of fits.

We still need campers, and support. We aren't giving up on our mission, our vision. I know we stand ready to serve, to teach and to guide, in the best way possible, without fear and with love and respect and thankfulness. I know I am afraid, but also filled with gratitude and hope.

The rest of this story has yet to be written. What happens next?

Time will tell. I will let you know, too. Stay tuned!

By the way, I finished my bow that I was working on for the last six years or so, really slowly! Thanks to Barry Keegan for all of his time and support! And Barry is helping Connor with his bow tillering in the pics here. And I am adding some pics of our maple processing and Trista with our baby rabbits! So it wasn't all healing and growth for the last few months. There was some ordinary Hawk Circle type stuff too!

Seeking Deer, Finding Strength

I am a hunter. I mean no offense to those of you who are vegetarians, for any reason, and I can understand, both rationally, and emotionally, that decision. I honor anyone for that.

However, I am a hunter, usually, just for deer. I also fish, when I get a chance, to feed my family and connect us to the natural world. I hunt to connect with the spirit of the deer, like hunters have done for millenia, to hunt and seek and test myself and stay strong. My awareness changes from that of a teacher and director to something more, something that fills me with wind, brush, autumn smells and cold air flowing down the mountain.

At this time of year, I walk through the forest, through the fields and old orchards, enjoying the flowers, the crisp blue sky and the smell of freshly fallen apples, but I am looking for any and all signs of the passing of deer. Tracks. Nibbled browse. Pushdowns through the tall grass. Piles of brown pellet scat.

The other day, I saw where the deer had moved from an open meadow to some thicker brush. I bent down and peered along the narrows where thin legs had passed. Just being in that place, looking in that way, I had the sensation of something wild inside of me coming alive. I saw hair pulled and stuck on a sharp stick, scraped off at shoulder height. I could almost feel the scratch in my own shoulder.

Even as I looked at the trail, I was seeing the whole landscape play before me, like an aerial camera. The swamp, the tangle of apples, the raspberries, the open maples, the ferns and grass, all of them with their options of concealment and vantage points. Where was this deer going? Where would it stop? Where would it lift it's nose and try to catch the scent of whatever was following it?

I stopped myself. The trail was days old, the story unfolding before me ancient history to this deer, who was probably up on the hill, bedded down for the afternoon, dozing in the warm sun and chewing last night's browse. Part of me shifted back to the 'rational me' but the native hunter part, the primal part, didn't want to let go of being alive, awake and in control. Even in just minutes of release, it felt good. My body felt good. I shivered, and walked on.

When I scout the trails and fields, I look for deer trails with heavy use. Frequent use. Which direction are they headed? Up or down? I find the feeding areas, the brush that has been browsed in the past few days. I look for oaks, with their dropping acorns, and I look for apples that have been crushed by molars, bits and pieces falling out of narrow mouths.

Deer need three to five pounds of browse, (read: woody, shrubby buds and branches, not grass) for their stomachs and digestion to work correctly. They can't just eat corn, or alfalfa, or clover. They need cover, to hide and break up their outline to predators, and they need places to go for water. They need solitude, even if it is just areas where humans almost never tread.

If there is an area where you never go because it is too thick with brush, brambles or general tree thickets, you can bet that is where the deer are spending a lot of time. Along with a lot of other animals....

Scouting these areas, I start to get a picture of what is going on this year, this season. Deer are creatures of habit, but they also don't waste energy and time. If there is a change in food sources, they will move to those sources. And change trails. You have to do your homework, pretty much all of the time.

At Hawk Circle, we have lots and lots of woods, cover and food. It is tough to hunt sometimes, because the deer can be literally anywhere, and they are difficult to predict. Which makes it a challenge. Some people I know hunt active farms, and there are more fields and meadows, with predictable lines of cover and trails, where deer have fewer choices in movement and bedding. In those cases, your scouting is a lot quicker.

I will be taking our Fall Earth Skills Semester students out to find these trails, scout the areas and explore what is going on. Usually, by the end of the day, they are very pumped to sit out and 'hunt', even if it is just with a camera. Some actually hunt, but it is very difficult with a native style bow for beginners to get close enough to even take a shot. But that doesn't keep us from trying and feeling that ancient hunter inside that makes us feel strong and alive and awake!

See you in the woods.

The 2008 Tracking Expedition

If there is one thing that is hard to teach, it's tracking. I mean, tracking is all about awareness, and it is damn hard to change that! Basically, you are working hard to change old habits of perception. And there is the added helping of belief. If you don't believe you can see tracks in leaves, or moss, or gravel or sand, then you won't. So that part is definitely important.

Fortunately, it is made a lot easier when people actually want to become good trackers, and are willing to work hard to grow. Which was the case in April while we were on the Spring Earth Skills Semester on the Tracking Expedition.


We left the third week of April to head down to Cape Cod, where we stayed for five days and melted our brains in the sands of this amazing place....

Luke Gaillard and I started with everything from footprint drawings and study, to stride and gait patterns and even a little track aging thrown in for fun. We tracked in sand. We tracked in gravel. We tracked in moss. We tracked in pine needles. We even tracked in deep leaf litter, and that was intense and revealing....

One of the highlights of the trip was taking the group blindfolded into the forest, letting them see and find their own trail in dry leaves. (Yes, they did find their way back.)

Another thing that was very successful was moving from area to area and applying the skills learned to the new place, building our awareness and tracking tools with each stop. It was amazing how tired everyone got just looking at tracks and trees and plants and animals and ocean. Nature can sure tire you out!

We followed skunk tracks in the dunes of Nauset Beach, and deer, coyotes, cottontails, fishers and raccoons in several areas. The crow tracks were really neat, and the way that the damp sand and clays showed hair and even finger/paw prints was amazing. There is something powerful about studying animals through their tracks, feeling and seeing the landscape and exploring the terrain through their eyes.... well, words can't express what it was like. Spring was in the air, with branches budding out, flowering and green. I wish I could share our walks and studies with everyone!

The open, fresh clean sand of the wide beaches gave us lots of time to test our skills, making tricky trails where we had to figure out what our companions did in fifteen-twenty steps, which let us ignore the wind and the fading sunlight and our tired legs and just unravel the mystery.

Yeah, it was a good trip. See you next year!?

Have a great spring!

Ricardo