Hiking and Adventure Club

Mobile To Tors Cove (almost) - Feb 9,2003, - Tom Conway -Fearless Leader (again)

Ten minutes out of the driveway, and I realized that my GPS was left on the coffee table. Would Fearless Leader (FL) be able to navigate without backup ? This time we brought lots of film but left the camera on the kitchen table. Oh well, just a normal start to another day on the trail with members and dogs of the Hardy Hiking Club. At the "Foodland" in Bay Bulls, like a Kung Fu fighter in a Jackie Chan movie , I tiptoed past the Nacho display case, fearful of yet another unprovoked attack. Other half ,wisely remained in car. Got in and out in a hurry ,and made it to the church on time. The other hikers (FL and Ren,Cindy ,Wanda and Robert) were all assembled and ready to go. Pepper,however, wasn't feeling well and sent her regrets. Hmm , no guarddog! Again the day was spectatular; a bright sun, a fresh breeze, and a lovely blue ocean with lots of fresh snow. All along the shoreline the waves pounded the rocks and rolled up the beaches, leaving frozen quartz crystals above the high water mark. Fresh rabbit tracks abounded. As we rounded Tinkers Point the cold wind nipped at our noses and the thoughts of a "boil-up" spurred us on. The ocean spared enough rocks for FL to get a good base for our little fire. This time we managed to get a bit of heat to go with a hot cup of tea. Next time we might try boiling the water on site. "A perfect cover picture for the MEC winter catalog " but nobody had a camera. Having made such good time to that point FL decided to turn around and head back to Mobile. Tors cove would have to wait another day. The return trip was just as pleasant and we even spotted the same animal track as the week before; right out of the ocean. An otter perhaps? We also ran into one of Peppers friends,who appeared to have just stepped out of a fasion magazine. "Bouncers" two piece ensemble would have made any canine green with envy. Now if Cindy would only give up a designer jacket or two for the greater good. Another perfect day under the belt. .The 3.5 hr hike concluded with a coffee and a danish at Michells ,a couple of beer at home and a good "Daniel Steel " movie rather than that stupid boring old golf game. Happy birthday Neil!!!

Hiking the trails least travelled on the West Avalon.

Having no heart for the living of winter and ECTA's East Coast Trails on this Pagan Day of Rest, the Northwesterly called us forth from the warmth of our wood stove and the balance of a chilled Chardonnay. Hell what better things could one be doing on a day when the wind pierces through to the very core of your marrow, but being out totally mad in the thick of it all! Ah d�j� vu Gros Morne Traverse # 1�Tuck[f]amore and more. Like sea-struck sailor given their first leave in a month Carolyn and I set out to tramp down to Northwest Pond, and if the moose and wild foxes were amenable to our presence we hoped to stumble through to Ocean Pond via Freshwater ...yea yet another Pond. Alas, the time had arrived to test my new footware, well not quite with the same passion and enthusiasm that I might have with a new pair of Nike Runners. Now I have no problems with being in the back of the pack, just as long as I have the rear-sting to move to the front. I learnt from several of those 2-hour weekend slingshot outing out our front door that the Old Bear Paws and 10 lb. Wooden snowshoes �. Well they just don't cut it. I got me a nice pair of those CT 27" and be geezers � here I was no longer looking at the back of me'misses ! The Tramp. Down the Bauline Line to the Ole' Scout Camp Road and inland to Northwest Pond. I was happy to see that my ECTA Tape from last year was still blowing in the breeze, though any members who are not familiar with the trail will need to talk with me about the first 5-10 minutes of that trail. Once one the 'local' trail you will soon need to make a left turn�easily missed. We had a great hike, the deep woods for the most part kept the cold NW wind at bay and we missed a moose by not more than a few minutes -- very fresh tracks, steamy 'road apples'. PHEW!! Rabbits were everywhere and within the last 5 minutes of the tramp we saw a black & silver fox. Living with an Inca Mesa Medicine Wheel Carrier I'm told that's a Powerful Symbol on the day of a Full Moon! Looking at the Tramp from the perspective of a day or Overnight Outing it did offer some alternatives. I found the trail far more passable with snow than without snow. The brooks, few bogs and ponds were frozen and that allowed us to cross north over Northwest Pond onto Freshwater Pond. The GPS / Mappers in the Club will recall Freshwater flows west down into Ocean Pond and then South to Brocks Pond� the base of the Last Great Up before heading south DOWN into Portugal Cove. If we wanted to tack a reasonable hike onto Grants suggestion we could enter this route from the Bauline Line, west along the Trail, thence southwest across Northwest Pond -- not along that god-awful- excuse-for-a-trail along the perimeter of the pond. A 10-15 minute UP and thence a bounce or two across to the ECTA trail and the Gulch / Ravine Campground. So, you'll are invited to wander west one of those Sundays. Namaste. the bluebackpack.

We've been to the mountain- Feb 23rd.- With Fearless Leader (FL)-Tom Conway

"We are all, from the infinitesimal quantum of light, to the largest of stars and galaxies, inextricably entangled within nature"- Mae-Won Ho -(Another fearless leader in another time) With dire predictions of the end of the world in 2060, by none other than Issac Newton (the chap who got hit in the head by the falling apple), with eminent war that could prove Issac wrong by 57 years (2060-2003), one could, perhaps, be excused for spending Sunday morning in bed (Neil/Sharron?) or attending church service (Judith?) , or hiking on a Sunday Morning Sidewalk. (Dave without snowshoes?) or even leading a dog's life and being left at home again.(Pepper) Six of Hardy's finest, however, faced what might be the inevitable fate of mankind, by simply ignoring it. We squeezed in another Sunday, partnering with nature ,not on coil springs,or hard wooden pews or hardened cement ,or even in doggie litter, but with an inadequate supply of duct tape, on a windy mountain top overlooking Holy-rood. The huge cairn at the top greeted us and pointed the way to Mae-Won's distant galaxies. With no one offering to deliver a sermon (Cindy in her rooster hat was inappropriate), FL located a wooded area and prepared the table (ie. rock) for lunch. Right on cue ,the light of a distant star broke through the clouds and flooded the forest floor around our chosen site. With Cinderella stoking the small blaze, we consumed our sparse rations ,while marvelling at the wonders of modern science ( a 16 oz Wide-mouth thermos) and the wonders of modern marketing.( Zellers- $30.47- Wall-Mart- $28.64) . With the cloud cover resuming, but no sign yet of the impending storm, (Yes, Karen this is a bit late but, there is a hike) we began our decent to the highway and civilization??. Part way down we noticed a sign in the snow "Skerry dog was here". Did she have Wildman with her I wondered? Our rookie ,Patricia, (still the child) had to leave a "snowangel " on the lake. Sylvia, (still the lady) left her message in the woods. Carefully avoiding the ski tracks and skiers on the road ,and making sure they had the whole 30 ft wide road to play on ,we made our way back to the hut, just in time for the 4:pm closing. Ren, (a FL in waiting) grilled the hutsman and gathered some invaluable info on available sites for a future winter camping expedition. Fl held a brief meeting and even decided on next weeks hike. What leadership! Finally, we headed back to our side of the overpass, to curling rocks and hammers ,to birdies and boogies and to dreamland, after a wonderful day's 'entanglement' with nature. PS- Grant- Plse get a spellcheck incorporated into this software.

From the End of Blasthole Ponds

Here on the Western Avalon, in that narrow rocky patch of land where some Spiritual Power took pity on a few and gave them little, we gave thanks. On that Day of Rest when we should have been we were not for we stood here in silence like Beagles straining on a rope after a week of in a wire-box some would dare call a kennel. Standing here above the end of Blast Hole Ponds we held our heads proud, sniffed the air above that babbling brook and with the kind of confidence that could be evoked only from those privileged to wear new Snowshoes, we headed North into the woods following an ancient path that led into a narrow patch of land we thought we knew. North through a winding path that brought us to the very edge of the Blast Hole Ponds, we paused -- just long enough to be seized by the stillness of the air, the quietness of the space, then with the impatience of those very same Beagles we gathered our thoughts of the moment and crept gingerly across the next pond. And still further North we tramped yet more winding trails and wild animal tracks only to be interspersed with that ubiquitous present evidence of man -- the sound of an approaching Skidoo! What more of a human specific poison could you find here amongst those tall trees at this very moment of blissful silence? From the depth of my inner silence there arose a desperate need for wormwood or sage or a few drops of cajeput or oil of rosemary to rub about my temples and neck. I reached deep and mustering the best of smiles raised my hand in passing recognition, not really wanting to acknowledge either. Maybe it's the �Spirit of the Land� that evokes us to kindness at those event specific zones for there seemed to arise a feeling of understanding and acceptance of this machine and its human cargo. Stepping aside it moved past us in what we viewed as someone late in the performance of their appointed role on this day -- setting the trail for two strangers afoot in a ravine on the Western Avalon. As if to genuflect in recognition of that �Spirit of the Land" I lifting my foot from the deeper snow at the side of the trail, nodded to my partner and joined my body as it stepped into Life. I have oft times wonder what draws one forth into Nature. It is as if some mysterious magnet deep within that Depth we know so well and avoid so casually nudges us gently forth to meet Ourself. Surrounded here by those silly looking Fir trees in the shelter of this bold rock face I am awash in reflective thought, knowing all the while this Presence is not something given to me just once. This is the Real World, well the Real World just before I begin to slice it up. My god how many Rabbits are there in this area? Oh sheet not that bloody Skidoo again.... Why can�t he just turn left and head straight for the cliff? Buggers.... The whole lot of them they really piss me off on days like this. Oh well, there�s still the trail ahead and in the distance I catch a glimpse of something that calls my �OLE Navy eye� into action. Wake up you lazy toad! That isn't the South wall of Thebes I�m seeing, not here, not today. That has to be the cliff face I nearly fell over leading that Crowd from the Club last year. No need for a GPS here I know exactly where I am.... Lost in thought in a valley on the Western Avalon. A trail, a path, is an apt metaphor for Life and like so many others, I am the consummate consumer, the active gobbler of whatever lies ahead. I just have to know what lies around that bend...where does this trail lead, what�s there. The Great Slicer at Work! So on those days here in the Silence of the Slice I am called to refocus on the walking, the doing, the Being in the Moment. The return along the trail will be every bit as adventurous, for in Truth we�ve not gone that way before. That�s what I love best about putting on �the bluebackpack.� By George

Hunting the Ubiquitous Ski-doo-Mar 2/2003- with George Mayo (Our Hair-less Leade

Like water running off an April icicle, the beads of cold sweat ran down my forehead and across my cheek , only to be soaked up and eventually disapear into what started the night as a freshly ironed pillow case. It was 4:00 in the morning ,and only six more hours to the start of another day on the trail with some of Hardy's hardiest. Everything appeared to be in order. Gazing out the window I could see no visable sign of a sunrise (Why not an earthdown?) . Cassiopeia appeared normal , still flirting with Cepheus; Leo was trying its very best, I'm sure, to catch Jupiter. I winked at Mr. Moon but got no response. Why then the concern,the sweat ? Then it hit me, like a ton of Scarry Dog's finest. It was, of course, the challenge from the "Ass of Blast Hole Ponds" (Ass) to the "Timid Toes of the East" ( TTsE). What devious treats did Attila have in store for the easteners ??? Could we stand the test? Would a note from my therapist get me off the hook? Perhaps the weather might turn sour! No wait . That might please Ass even more. What to do ? Where to go? Who to turn to ? This is surely too much for FL (of Butterpot fame) to handle. Ha ha ha ha . No need to worry ! Our Absolute Fearless Leader (AFL) (not unlike Moses) from that 'little harbour' just outside the city would come and take control. Back to bed. 'Attila' greeted 12 of us at the the church with a rye smile. Something was not right. Ah ha! The pony tail was missing ,Delilah had solved our problem. Who needed AFL! Off we went to face the music with just our regular FL and a new Hair-less Leader (HL). Nero did not run from adversity and neither would we. Besides, we had 20 yr old Baby Duck to look forward to. HL quickly took control and advised the gathering that snowshoes were not necessary as we would be on ski-doo trails the whole way. Perhaps we might trap a few, I thought. Would Merv be able to digest them ,I wondered. After a quick car-pool to Duck Pond on the Bauline line we set out across the first of 5 ponds ,I think?.With the bright sun in our face and a soft breeze at our bums, we tracked the elusive SD for 3 hrs . They left a perfect trail (wider than our east coast otter);wide enough in most places to walk two abreast and ponder nature's miracles, while cursing life's pitfalls. Pepper stayed afloat on the crispy surface, cursing its master for not ordering her snowsuit a little earlier. March was truly in like the lamb, and no fire, lukewarm or otherwise was necessary. FL's newly acquired 59 cent fire starter would survive the day and so would the hunter's cabin. Along the way, a number of winter camping sites begged our return. The SD's seemed to have some intellegence as their trail kept to the low flat land which seemed to suit our group just fine. The mountains would await Moses' return to duty. We arrived back at our vehicles with only one casualty; a tree branch took issue with HL's nose, but even Michael J. would have been proud of the repair job. There was no fresh game (although we had spotted one SD in the distance) , so Merv won't be pleased. Back seat passengers in Scarry dog's car were not too happy either. From there it was back to Neary's Pond , for a few beer and wine, and some reminiscing of adventures past , old navy days, old broadcasting days and even some foreign affairs (not with the opposite sex!). AFL and his teacher sidekick even showed up, finally, having respectively completed their appraisals of some property and some 37 year olds. (or was that 30 seven years old ?) Wow , just another perfect winter's hike , made possible by the ASS--- no! Atilla---- no! no! no! - just plain old hair-less and nearly noseless George from Neary's Pond. Driving home in the dark, I noticed Saturn had now joined the race, that Ursa the Major had given Cassy a cold shower and Mr Moon, this time, saw fit to return my wink. ,<) Cheers Me P.S . If snowshoes had feelings- Would we tramp on them?

The Ice Sentinels of the Waterfall.

The Ice Sentinels of the Waterfall. This morning 4 card-carrying members in Good Standing Positions (it's a preferably position when tramping) with their Hiking Club, stepped cheerily along in the basking heat of the northern sun. Cindy, Pepper, Carolyn and George hiked from the Bauline Line via Freshwater, Ocean (Long Pond to the local) and Brock's Pond to the Waterfall. WOW! And not one of us had a camera. It's a great trail that the locals have set for their skidoo's / access to the two cabins on Ocean Pond. How so typical to find a hobble of a hut in the mist of the woods, totally in the 'local bush' and see folks sitting about in the sun and sucking back on their favorite 'coolies'. AND, they had a generator, which was giving light to a 45w bulb hanging over the corner of the hobble at noon. Ah, a new Star is Born! Now I know where that smoke was coming from at the end of Ocean Pond when I've been tramping along that area of ECTA's trail to the West. Not sure how they get into that area in the summer. The Waterfall was absolutely awesome. From the Pool as far back as the turn in the river the wind had lashed the water back and frozen it on the western side of the trees. It reminded us of those wooden statues that had been erected out on the Flatrock Point. Awesome, beautiful, and all relevant to that place. This is a great trail for tramping or skiing and on our return we met 3 hardy souls, not our FL rolled into 1 Type, who had entered from Blast Hole Ponds. Our neighbor, the adventurous type who was sea kayaking last weekend over to Bell Island, was pushing onto Brocks' Pond. Unfortunately we did encounter several batches of skidoo but then they did set the trail for us. Another adventure to log into the Clubs Hikes made possible by the kindness of Cold Mother Winter. Total time: Left vehicles on Bauline Line at 11:00Am / Returned shortly before 3pm. PS. I've cut off that very large Maple Tree limb which stuck out across the path to our front door. Now when folks leave in the FULL light of the day they won't ever again have to worry about striking their head, thereby seeing those 'daytime stars.' Like Ursa at 4AM -- just at the time when we are all up / looking up / we won't have to worry about be right side up.. By George

March 16-2003- A Brief Walk in Time, on the Ides of March (plus one) - with Fear

Having braved the Mountains of Butterpot, and the Flatlands of Blast Hole Ponds, our FL and his Timid Toed Followers (TTF's), returned to the familiar and friendly terrain of the Irish southern shore. A rather mellow jaunt was the order of the day. (---or so they were led to believe!) On a cold but sunny Sunday, sandwiched like peanut butter, between the Ides of March and Paddy's Big Bash, eight of Hardy's Habituals met at the appointed rendezvous in Tor's Cove. True to form, Fl had posted the hike to start from Bay Bulls and end up in Tor's Cove. A small mutiny ensued and the route was quickly revised to start at Witless Bay and finish in Mobile. Perhaps it's time for a new leader ?? With two new feet (or perhaps two feet of new) freshly fallen snow and a virgin--trail , it was not difficult to find a new leader to take command. Everyone wanted to leave their mark (esp Me). As we shuffled through the the winding trail, layers of clothing were quickly discarded in the hot spring sun.The ocean surf waved to us, and bid us 'g'dday'. Fresh signs of rabbit conventions , and wandering moose criss-crossed our path, beckoning us to follow. FL would have no part of that and remained conspicuously in charge but at the rear ? Was he protecting something ? The uprooted base of a large tree was chosen (by FL) for our small blaze. (the spot I picked wasn't good enough for him!). His choice ,however, was the ideal spot to break bread and serve tea. Jackets were carefully hung to dry in the warm sun while the surrounding area provided theater style seating, not unlike one could imagine ,the Temple of Venus in ancient Rome. Ah! But did not the rising column of smoke resemble somewhat, the statue of Pompey ,as it might have appeared some 2,047 years ago. That was in the time of another Great Leader, as he was about to make an appearance before his legions. But ,where is our Fearless Leader ?? And what is that he has in his hand ??? Oh! but not me, surely . I am but a faithful friend and scribe. It would not be Me who would betray thee! Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!! Et tu Renie ???? Et tu Cindy ??? Et tu Sylvia ??? Et Tu new friends ??? Et tu Pepper (in abstentia)?? Ah- But our FL did heed the warning! He did beware the Ides ! He is indeed Fearless! R.I.P. - J.C.- Oh, but what could have been ! If only I were-------. But look! Isn't that a pretty picture ? Bright crimson etchings on a snowy white backdrop! Ah , Mother Nature- Ominipresent - and She's even booked Shelia to 'brush' it all away in a couple of days and then She'll start all over again!!! Me

Sunday in the Park with George

Sunday, March 23, 2003. Just another day in Paradise. Four of us plus George, (Intrepid and Fearless Leader - IFL) Left the Bauline Line about 1100 and headed towards the waterfall under Brock's Head. A beautiful day, iwth little or no wind, we made good time, without snow shoes, except at the infamous "short cut". By 1300 we were overlooking Conception Bay watching the ferry trying to hammer through the ice. The area around the river was a fantasy of snow sculpted shapes. Heading back we saw a moose dash out of the woods ahead of us, skirt the edge of a pond and dash back into the woods. Not much other wildlife except for some skidoo riders and cross counrty skiers. We exited at the Anglican Cemetary Road about 1600 and spent a couple of pleasant hours rehashing old hikes at George and Carolyn's. All in all a very nice day. By Tom Conway

Baybulls to Spout.. on Snowshoes

It was to the Spout or bust. Stopping at Chavers was not an option to be considered or dared to be mentioned. Baybulls to the Spout. All the way!!! I awoke Sat morning Feb.22 to a beautiful day. This was the day Robert and I planned to complete the Spout Trail. Stopping at Chavers was an option not dared to be mentioned if one valued ones life. The temp. was -12, the snow was crispy, not a breeze, and the sun was blazing overhead. The day was made to order. We parked in Baybulls and decided to take the Freshwater Rd. into Freshwater. Walking in the road was like walking through a winter tunnel. The trees on either side of us was laden with snow, the only sound was the crunching of our snowshoes. We crossed the bridge in Freshwater over a completly frozen river. The ocean was a beautiful blue with lazily lapping waves. A slight breeze accompanied us to The Turn of Bald Head. We turned East then and started to climb up into the woods. Our plan was to climb high enough to hopefully find ourselves south of Chavers without having to go in and out, up and around inlets. When we thought we were high enough we turned north. A hour later we were right on our mark. There was the Chavers sign in our view! We followed the trail around Drop Cove and started to climb east again. Our plan was the same. When we thought we were high enough to avoid the next two inlets we turned north again. We knew there would be two more rivers to cross, one about a half of a hour from the campgrounds and one just before the campgrounds. When we reached the second river we decended, and there it was.... the crossing leading to the campgrounds, just above the Spout. We had made it!!!!! We rested for just over an hour and enjoyed a meal of spicy hoy chili with crusty bread. All the while the sun shone steadily down on us. We left the campgrounds at 3 pm. We discussed our plan and we agreed to be a little more adventureous on our return trip. We were comfortable with our compass and felt very confident in climbing even further east and then turn south. We decided to hike for three hours heading south and calculated that we would come out very close to Freshwater. We hiked through very beautiful country. There were moose tracks everywhere, some tracks were deeper than the height of our ski poles. The wind had come up a little and the temp had dropped but the forest kept us protected and the sun continued to shine down on us. After three hours we started our decline, it wasn't long before the ocean came into view and then the lighthouse was visible. My lord we know that trail!! We stopped long enough to have a light snack of Mom's cake and don our head lamps. We ended the hike with a canopy of brilliant stars overhead as we walked through our winter tunnel again. We reached the Landrover at 7:30. It was a beautiful adventurous hike. I could do this hike every weekend, it was that nice!! What a grand hike! By Cindy Flynn

Summer Backpacking Equipment List

Summer Backpacking Equipment List

by Neil Hardy

EQUIPMENT LIST (suggested) - SUMMER HIKES

CLOTHING

- waterproof jacket and trousers, hiking boots, gaiters

- hat with good brim to shield your face/neck from the sun and rain

- fleece with zip front, layered clothes (mock turtle / T-shirts, etc)

- liner socks for hiking, thick socks, dry spares

- old sneakers or sandals for relaxing at night

- neoprene booties / socks or sandals for crossing deep rivers (not always necessary)

- plastic bags to keep all essential clothing dry. Rain will permeate your backpack.

- handkerchiefs

- Spare boot laces

TENT & SLEEPING

- tried and tested tent (preferably with vestibules)

- sleeping bag, suggested minimum -5 degrees (keep dry sleep-wear in the bag). Wrap in plastic bag.

- foam or mat, good insulating quality, waterproof, easily packable (not too long or wide)

- lightweight tarp at least the size of the tent footprint, if weight and bulk permits

COOKING & EATING

- cooking stove (each team/buddy system 2-3 people),

- cooking pots (pot for boiling water may be all required)

- individual plate / bowl, mug, knife, fork, spoon

- fuel for stove (with spare for longer trips)

- windproof lighter. Waterproof matches if you want, but these only work if the box strike is dry.

- plastic water holder for storing liquid

FOOD SUGGESTIONS

Granola bars, trail mixes (my favourite is cashew nuts with M&M's), soup packages, cheese block, dried fruit, sugar, tea/coffee/chocolate, powdered milk, tang or Gatorade crystals, Tobasco sauce, candies

On long expeditions, I find the best meal regime is a hot breakfast such as instant oats, snack (not to cook) for lunch and a big meal (freeze-dried or similar lightweight package food) at the end of the day.

HIKING ESSENTIALS

- map and compass each. Maps should be marked with magnetic north in a prominent spot.

- 50 foot rope (between 2)

- reflector mirror and whistle

OTHER ITEMS

- fly dope, sun tan lotion (you never know)

- toilet paper, other toiletries, towel

- 2 space blankets each,

- spare plastic bags (various sizes�zip lock?)

- your own medical gear (bandages, aspirins, Tums, blister treatment, iodine, etc)

- duct tape

- flashlights, spare batteries, candle lanterns (make sure melted wax doesn't easily drip)

- waterproof camera / lens cases, camera, spare film, spare camera battery

- "ship to shore" radio if available to the group

- booze. No glass bottles, very limited beer in cans (think weight), liquor in plastic flask(s)