Up North

I’ll be seeing our Concordians this weekend, if all too briefly, before and after my Saturday-Sunday stroll in the woods.

Earlier this week, it was iChat to the rescue, during which A came home from his run and B joined in to stretch with Dada.

It won’t be all that long before we’re all shuffling along together. Sweet B’s already beginning to do a little interesting motoring on her own. She took her parents on a walk into Lonesome Lake Hut a few weeks ago—here (purloined from their blog) she is with her Mama overlooking the lake (that’s Mt. Lafayette between them),

and enjoying lunch.

Especially on the way out, she managed selected sections of the round trip under her own power, if under Dada’s watchful eyes.

Say, have you seen...?

I’ve been collecting my small kit for this weekend’s walk to and from Zealand Hut with the NZ crew. I’ve been using the same list for hut-based walks for a long time, and it can easily be made to coincide pretty well with the one prescribed by our leaders. My problem at the moment is that I can’t find one of my favorite pieces: an old Patagonia Zephur jacket. The Z is very light, very compact, and it takes the place of a windbreaker, a medium fleece and, on its better days, a rain-resistant layer. It works very well over a light baselayer, and I rely on it for walks in the Fahrenheit 30s and low 40s, which is what we’ll likely find in the Whites in a few days. I haven’t needed it since last spring, and I obviously stored it somewhere I thought was very clever indeed. I can get along without it, of course—God knows I’ve got enough stuff—but I’d be both functionally and sentimentally sorry to have to.

I lose things all the time. Significant things. Last week, it was my iPod Classic, which eventually turned up being used as a bookmark in an novel I had set out for someone else to read. A month or so ago, it was a tiny Photon LED pocket flashlight with some important keys attached. That one’s still gone.

This would all be fine, and even funny, if I were an absent-minded professor with better things to think about. But it’s actually infuriating, because I am in fact just an inattentive guy with a lazy habit of mind. In other words, I have no excuse.

And no Zephur.

An effulgent review

The lead review in yesterday’s New York Times Book Review is of Nicole Krauss’s Hearts Full of Sorrow, which I probably won’t read, despite the fact that the reviewer, Rebecca Newberger Goldstein gives it a rave.

Goldstein at one point compares it to Krauss’s previous book, and says, “The History of Love, despite its tragic underpinnings, is anything but solemn. Its sorrow is rambunctious, its anguish rollicking. Its fulgerating pain comes out in shrieks of unlikely laughter.”

To which my chastened response, peering around guiltily to make sure nobody could hear me was, “What does ‘fulgerating’ mean?”

Well, to merely literate people (not including me, obviously) it means to emit flashes of lightning, or to emit light in flashes. So perhaps I am fulgerating my Photon when I’m stuck high on El Capitan  and sending SOS signals to rescuers in the valley. Or maybe not.

But, aha!, to a doctor, “fulgerating” refers to pain that is lightning-like, electric, sharp.

Which, combined with that rollicking anguish and rambunctious sorrow, actually makes me want to read The History of Love.






110 days, 8 hours, 10 minutes, 33 seconds to wheels up out of LAX, bound for NZ. But the trip? I can take it or leave it.

Weather grump

Well, that was underwhelming.

By the time I was up and out early in the morning, it was dry and merely breezy. We had some strong winds overnight, and supposedly a few inches of rain (though Lake H was dry, so it couldn’t have been all that much). We certainly could have had a decent day out on the hills. Anyway, I ran in a lightweight baselayer top and left the Airflyte hanging on its hook. So more info on its characteristics will just have to wait a while.

Relying on weather predictions to plan outings can be mighty frustrating...in both directions.

A little follow-up

It was just above freezing when I went out for my shuffle this morning. We barely escaped the frost that had apparently descended on more northerly parts of Litchfield County. I stretched a point in my eagerness to try out the Airflyte. A sleeveless techie tee, a midweight baselayer, and the jacket were predictably too warm. (Though, as usual in barely chilly temps, I was happy to  have the Buff protecting my manly jaw.) I started sweating hard about a mile out, and although I unzipped and flapped about a bit, I managed to wet out my shirts by the time I was through. Under normal circumstances, I would have simply taken the jacket off and tied it around my waist, but I was using the iPod pocket (which worked very well), and didn't want to fiddle.

Basically not a fair test, because a calm 35°F (2°C) is simply not quite cold enough to be wearing a jacket of any kind on a run. I'll be out in the rain and wind tomorrow morning, I'll wear only a light shirt under the jacket, and we’ll see how things go then.

The Aiflyte is also pretty stiff, apparently a characteristic of eVent that moderates with washing, so I expect I’ll have a very clean rain jacket.



(I’ve just checked the little countdown widget I’ve got going. As of right this moment, I’ve got 113 days, 13 hours, 14 minutes, 30 seconds before Air New Zealand whisks me off to the antipodes. I remain, of course, blasé about the whole thing.)

Reaching for the sunny side

Bummer. Big rains and wind predicted for Friday have squelched a walk we had planned along the South Taconic Trail, across Alander Mountain, to Bash Bish Falls.  (Too bad we hadn’t planned on it today...it’s been one of those glorious, perfect New England fall days than which there is nothing more lovely—I’ve been out for a run and three short walks.)

The sunny side (and this is a real reach) is that I’ll get to try out my new shuffling shell in “conditions.” It’s an REI OXT Airflyte, 

my first-ever garment of eVent, a waterproof/breathable fabric many people whose opinions I value rave about (and, even at half-price, the most expensive running item I’ve ever bought, barring shoes). The deal is that the stuff is supposed to be truly waterproof, truly breathable, and lightweight—a nice combo that would obviously be great in the mountains, too. Here’s a review from Backpacker. And here’s a cool little demo:



The Airflyte has no hood, which is fine with me, because I don’t like running in one, and does have a little iPod pocket high on the left breast, with a way to run the ear bud cord up inside the jacket. This might be nice or a pain. I’ll find out Friday morning, when I try to make the lemonade of discovery out of the lemons of disappointment. I’ll be humming as I splash along.

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us ev’ry day, it will brighten all the way
If we’ll keep on the sunny side of life

Stardust

October 1 (I’ve been away) would have been my mom and dad’s 65th wedding anniversary. We lost Mom far too early, but I still see Dad almost every day. This Hoagy Carmichael hit was “their” song (they weren’t alone). My dad still keeps a little music box, a wedding present, that plays the tune. There are lots of good versions of this old standard. But I think to most people of my parents’ era, this Artie Shaw version was the definitive Stardust. The trumpet is Billy Butterfield. The clarinet, of course, is Shaw. Here’s to wonderful memories, Dad.

(And let’s steer clear of the bad ones. That 1931 Bing Crosby record of it qualifies as execrable, and the best-known Glen Miller version is pretty awful.)