Dan, Sam, and me ready to take on Mount Prospect! Compare this with the "after" picture for a good laugh.

One of the least intelligent things I’ve done recently happened late last winter, when the heavy winter snows that pounded the east coast were beginning to melt into rivers. It was in these conditions that several of my friends and I thought a winter camping trip would be a good idea. But my notion of camping (a group of good friends toasting marshmallows by a campfire) didn’t quite match the reality my first winter camping adventure. In fact, our little expedition turned out to be more of an adventure than even my more adventurous companions had planned.

The idea for the trip came from my then-boyfriend, Sam, who loves the outdoors as much as I do and wanted to go camping for his birthday. We were both enthusiastic, and we did a lot of things right throughout the trip. I’ll share a few of those before I detail all those not-so-right things we did.

I never could have done it without Sam. He knew we’d need snowshoes. He told me to dress in lightweight layers in case we sweated when hiking, and that wool layers help keep you warm even if they do get wet. The goal in winter camping is to remain dry. Lesson: When the sun starts to set, clothing saturated with rain, snow, or sweat quickly become cold and dangerous.

Sam helped me evenly distribute weight in my backpack and chivalrously carried most of our shared gear in his own pack. He reminded me to pack extra wool socks, which turned out to be critical. He remembered Advil for headaches, a small stove since making a fire in snow (or ever) is difficult, moleskin (which our friend Dan used when a blister rubbed up), and extra cord which always seems to come in handy.

Another thing we did right: Sam, Dan, and I all told our family and friends exactly where we were going and when we expected to be back to the car. Lesson: Whenever  you go into the wild, let people who care about you know where you’re headed and when you’ll be back. Although it probably terrified my mother, I told her to call local authorities if she didn’t hear from me by 4 p.m. on Sunday. If some disaster had struck and our parents and friends didn’t hear from us, they would have sent out a search team.

Sam emailed me packing lists, my dad emailed me advice, and I emailed myself survival tips. If you’re planning to go winter camping, I recommend you use this list put together by the Eastern Slopes editors: How To: Winter Camping Checklist. If you’re missing any larger items of gear, your nearest EMS or REI store will rent gear for a small fee, and happily sell you any other things you need. We brought plenty of two hiking essentials you can’t find at any store: good attitudes and a thirst for adventure. I learned during the trip, however, that one of the most important things we forgot to pack was common sense. And that’s where the not-so-right choices began.

Danny Kern pauses at the trail's head with about 50 pounds of gear on his back. (Caroline McDonald photo)

We left Boston an hour, (OK, two)  later than we had originally planned. Lesson: On any group camping trip, someone will be late, so plan accordingly. Leaving a little late should have put me on the alert (particularly for winter camping, when the days are short, the nights are cold, and your margin for error is MUCH smaller!), but I wasn’t going to let it bother me. A beautiful three-hour drive later, we arrived at our jump-off point.

Mount Prospect  in the Mount Greylock State Reservation, nestled in the Berkshire Mountains of western Massachusetts. It’s only a few miles from the Norman Rockwell-esque college community of Williamstown. A flat, tree-lined pathway leads you across some fields to start. From there, the trail disappears into the forest. The walk in to the trail proper looked like a frozen, shining entry into a wonderful new world. Turned out that world was just a little harsher than we expected.

We planned the trip for early March, that long-awaited time of year when the temperatures finally begin to climb above freezing, and the ground thaws. It wasn’t too cold to enjoy the tiny, red checkerberries peeking out from under the melting snow, or the rush of the river our hike paralleled.

But the first signs of spring mean more than a picturesque trek through the woods. The unstable weather conditions cause a precarious combination of thawing and freezing which turned the record snows of last season  soft and unstable. Snowshoes were necessary to keep on top of the snow rather than knee-deep in it. Additionally, the “brooks” marked off on the trail map had turned to roaring rivers.

Take note: You should NEVER have a picture taken of you like this because you should never be in this situation. Standing on slippery rocks in near-freezing temperatures is a recipe for disaster. (Caroline McDonald photo)

At the first “brook,” the  little voice of reason in my head said, “This can’t be the right way. Trails don’t take you across rivers. Rivers get you wet, and wet is bad.” But the boys were sure it was the right way. I’m no chicken, but I think my brain shrunk to chicken-sized in that moment, and I crossed the river with them. At that point, we should have turned back and chosen a safer alternate route. Lesson: If it’s winter and you’re hiking, DO NOT risk getting wet. Any of us could have slipped and fallen in the river, completely submerging ourselves. Getting soaked at those temperatures would have immediately put us in a life-and-death survival situation we may or may not have been able to handle. With no one around for miles and no cell phone service, a tough hike out as the sun was setting would have been our only option, and hypothermia would have been a serious threat. Fortunately, none of us slipped.

But here’s one place where I prove conclusively I was dumber than the boys. They had waterproofed their boots; I hadn’t. While stepping across the river on rocks didn’t get their boots wet, it did mine. Hence, Lesson: Waterproof your boots. For a few bucks and a hour of time, you can assure yourself dry boots, or at least boots drier than mine were after that first river crossing.

We crossed two more “rivers” that evening, and, by that time, all of our boots were completely soaked. Crossing the streams was the only way to get to the site where we had planned to camp, and we were determined to get there. Looking back, I’m embarrassed to admit that I made such an unintelligent choice. But not wanting to ruin our fun on my boyfriend’s birthday trip, I meekly went along. We didn’t make it to the site that night. The sun began to set, and I insisted we find a spot and set up camp. The boys finally agreed. Here’s something we did right. Lesson: If the sun is setting, it’s better to stop, set up camp and be sure everything is properly assembled rather than continue. Trying to find a good spot, set up a tent, and get situated can take a while, and it’s very difficult with only a few flashlights.

When you’re winter camping, modern comforts that we take for granted every day are a big deal. It’s easy to forget that people are entirely dependent on sunlight and warmth to function when we live in houses where heat and lights come on with the flick of a finger. It’s not so simple on the side of a mountain when you’re surrounded by snow. Getting our feet dry and warm was the evening’s goal. Thanks to the extra wool socks and foot warmers, we succeeded in rewarming our cold feet.

The Money Brook Trail was lush with fir and birch trees, and it was great to be able to cross a brook with dry feet.. (Caroline McDonald photo)

That night we could hear the wet snow and rain falling outside. I was glad we’d taken the time to be sure the rain fly was properly set up. But we made another rookie mistake. Sam had packed an extra-large tarp to go under the tent–so  the water that slid off the rainfly splashed onto the tarp where some of it ran under the tent. Not surprisingly, the bottom of the tent became damp. Lesson: If you are going to use a ground cloth under your tent, make sure it is covered by the rainfly.

I was grateful Sam and I had packed Therm-a-rest mats. Dan didn’t fare as well without one. Lesson: A pad is as essential for warmth in cold-weather camping as a sleeping bag.

The  morning dawned cold, still, and beautiful. A light snow fell on us as we packed up and set out. The hike up Mount Prospect proved to be one of the most challenging and rewarding days I’ve ever had. The “brooks” we’d crossed the day before didn’t scare me nearly as much as that hike up the mountain did.

The trail was incredibly steep and icy, and my snowshoes didn’t have traction spikes on them. Lesson: Invest in traction aids for safe winter hiking. Creepers, crampons, or snowshoes with spikes make a huge difference if you hike in ice or snow. In our case, crampons would have been the most useful. I’ve since found them to be an easy, lightweight solution to icy hiking. They aren’t as cumbersome as snowshoes and make avoiding tree roots easier.

Navigating the Money Brook Trail with its roots and ice, all with a heavy pack on, was no small feat. All of all of our attention was on the trail before us. The extreme conditions demanded no less. In this physically challenging environment, I found the greatest reward. The hiking introduced a primal sort of Zen. My only concerns were the well-being of the others and the steps in front of me. No room in my mind was left to care about answering emails or how stupid my hat looked (as the pictures will tell).

Our greatest triumph came when we reached a shelter located near the mountain’s peak. There, we indulged in just-add-hot-water burritos out of a bag. I swear it was the tastiest Mexican food I’ve ever eaten. After a short rest, we continued our hike onto the Prospect Trail until we reached an overlook near the summit. A moment with the clear air and perfect, untouched snow justified the tough hike up. We admired the view and added a stone to the cairn started by other brave hikers who had also reached the top. We couldn’t linger for too long though. We had a river to cross and camp to set up before nightfall.

What a reward! 1266 feet of uphill backpacking led us to the summit of Mount Prospect and an unforgettable view. (Caroline McDonald photo)

Whereas I’d found the hike up to be the toughest part, the boys thought coming down was far more challenging. They were carrying more weight than I was, so toppling over was a very real possibility. Lesson: Trekking poles are a safety essential. Before the trip, I’d thought the trekking poles were an extraneous toy for the boys. But during the hike I wished I had brought them, too. They came in handy several times. That night, we used to them to hang damp clothes  by a fire.

The adrenaline I’d been pumping all weekend made the hike out seem easy on Sunday morning, especially compared to the mountain we’d scaled the day before. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until we reached the car. I felt happy and very lucky to have all of my body parts intact and at  98.6 degrees.

A week later, I couldn’t stop talking about our weekend adventure. I still bring it up frequently. I felt proud of my body for going through the extreme weather and physical exertion. The high was unbeatable.

However, a lot of things we did were plain dumb. Getting out alive was as much pure luck as physical accomplishment and preparedness. I wish we’d planned better, and made better decisions on the way. Maybe I would have if I’d read Hike Wisely before I went.

Feeling both exhausted and proud after three days of winter hiking and camping. (Caroline McDonald photo)

Lesson: Winter camping is a blast.  I encourage every adventurous heart to try it. However, be sure you learn in increments and are prepared to get out safely even if the worst situation arises. Keep my tips and mishaps in mind when you start planning this winter’s camping adventures. And don’t forget to listen when your common sense pipes up! It’s trying to keep you safe!

A beautiful blue sky over the Swift River and Kancamagus Highway. (Ron Shpindler photo)

It turns out Kancamagus (correctly pronounced “Kank-ah-MAW-gus”; and frequently mispronounced “Kank-ah Mang-gus”), is more than a word. It’s the name of a Native American warrior chief and, by the way, 26.5 miles of outdoor playground. This is a perfect spot for a cheap, quick, fun weekend outdoor getaway, if you are adventurous enough to get out of your car and go exploring.

The Kancamagus Highway, commonly called “The Kanc,” runs alongside the Swift and Ammonoosuc rivers, through the White Mountain National Forest in north-central New Hampshire. Around this time of year, the highway is set ablaze when beech trees with silvery bark turn to gold, birch trees turn yellow, and maples flame brilliant reds and oranges.

Not only is the highway beautiful, it’s also your gateway to lots of active fun. It’s a favorite of bikers–and when we say “bikers” we mean either sleek, spandex-wearing athletes on roadbikes or the mud-and-blood spattered mountain bike types, NOT the leather clad motorcycle types (though The Kanc is popular with them, too). We even saw a of couple runners braving the hilly route.

The Kanc is  ornamented with spectacular scenic views, places to camp, and trailheads that lead you away from the road into the wilds of the high White Mountains.

Unable to resist fall’s first crisp weekend, my friends Mike and Ron and I set off from Boston to get to know this area. Among its other attributes, the Kancamagus lends itself to last-minute camping trips, perfect for last-minute college kids. None of the Forest Service campgrounds along the Kanc require reservations, though you can make reservations at some. We were bound for a spot Ron had visited once as a kid and remembered fondly. The Covered Bridge Campsite is in Albany, towards the Conway end of the Kancamagus as you come from Lincoln. We could also have camped at Big Rock, Blackberry Crossing, Hancock, Jigger Johnson  or Passaconaway campgrounds along the way (Blackberry and Hancock are plowed and open all winter!). Backpacking off the highway was also an option. Be sure to read these regulations if you want to backcountry camp off the Kancamagus.

Over six miles of hiking on the Rocky Gorge Trail. And that's just one of the thirty-something trails in the area. (Ron Shpindler photo)

None of three of us actually owns a car (we’re poor college kids living in Boston, after all), so we got there “creatively,” something I’ve been learning to do whenever I want to escape the city. This time, we caught an early bus, the Boston Express, up to Ron’s hometown of Nashua, New Hampshire where his parents were going to let us borrow a car for the weekend. Public transportation in the northeast is pretty good, so we could have gotten there carless by taking the bus from Boston to Conway, then hiking along the Kanc. After we got off the bus and before we drove north, Ron’s parents fussed over us a little (they wanted phone numbers and detailed plans!), and helped us out a lot with necessary gear and plenty of his dad’s famous pickled cabbage. Parents are good things to have!

When we finally arrived at the campground, we were greeted by a host who collected $20 for a site and sold us firewood. Thanks to the Asian Longhorned Beetle, a nasty-looking little bug that infests and destroys forests, anyone camping along the Kancamagus has to purchase local wood if they want to build a fire. Since building a campfire is a staple of every camping experience (and, I’ve discovered, a serious preoccupation for the male camping population), we didn’t hesitate to pay the extra $7 for firewood.

But before any campfires could happen, we had to choose a site, set up our tent and check out the area. The Covered Bridge campground is great for a low-key campout. The living was easy with a level tent area, a picnic table, and a fire grate. Clean bathrooms and a dumpster were nearby, and a well-pump for water was a short walk away. Oriented and settled in, we decided on a hiking route.

We stopped to wonder at this beautiful golden mushroom (maybe Amanita pantherina?) growing in the middle of the trail. (Ron Shpindler photo)

Like I said before, hiking trails are abundant in the area. We had three hiking trails to choose from within easy walking distance from our site and countless more by car. The Rocky Gorge trail started close to our tent area, so that’s what we chose. This begins as the Nanamocomuck Ski Trail. Despite our not knowing how to say the name, we thought the trail itself looked promising. In fact, it looks like it will make a wonderful cross-country skiing route in a few months. (Note to self: add this to the a list of adventures for this winter . . .) It runs along the Swift River and eventually turns into a path through pristine woods.

Perhaps due to recent heavy rainfall, mushrooms were everywhere along the trail. None of us are mushroom experts, but we were able to identify what we think were bowl-shaped chanterelles as well as golden and red (and probably poisonous!) Amanitas. The clumps that looked like black-and-white leopard skins and white ones covered in shaggy manes are still mysteries.

Now THAT'S a root system! (Ron Shpindler photo)

While Hurricane Irene’s damage was evident, it didn’t impede our hike at all. Flattened trees high up on the riverbank showed us where Hurricane Irene’s torrential rain and winds had caused the river to rise to destructive levels. We even saw an enormous, old tree that had been ripped out of the ground. The root system was much MUCH taller than me (which, I suppose, isn’t that difficult . . .)! When we reached the Rocky Gorge, which was supposed to be this hike’s big “ta-da” moment, pieces of the sidewalk beside it were missing. The area is still safe to visit, so don’t hesitate to go! However the damage was a reminder of how impressive and scary unleashed natural forces can be.

Speaking of impressive, natural forces, glaciers formed the Rocky Gorge’s cascading falls millions of years ago.The pools upstream and downstream from it make good swimming spots in the summer; but swimmers have to be careful not to get too close to the falls or risk getting sucked into a dangerous eddy where, in 1942, Dorothy Sparks miraculously lived after being lost under the falls for three hours.

The 6.8 mile round-trip hike, which I would rate “fairly easy,” also has a stop at Falls Pond. As inviting as the pond area was for a picnic, Autumn’s ever-earlier sunsets dictated that we head back to camp.

The Albany Covered Bridge under cloudy night skies. (Ron Shpindler photo)

After a lot of male fussing starting the campfire that night and roasting delicious veggie hotdogs over it, we visited the park’s namesake, the Albany Covered Bridge. The bridge was originally built in 1858 and much of the original time-worn timber still remains. For all of us not wanting to risk our lives crossing a 150-year-old wooden bridge, steel and other supports were added in the early 1980s. Kudos to whoever did the renovation because this New England treasure survived Irene without any visible damage. It is as impressive as it must have been back in 1858. Under the cloudy night skies, the old bridge looked purplish and eerie. Ron, an avid amateur photographer, got some great shots.

After the long day of hiking and  aerobic fire-starting, we all slept like logs. Some of our friends in Boston had stayed behind, worried about being too cold at night. Stinks for them, because fall is the perfect time to be sleeping outside if you know how to stay warm. Nestling up in a warm sleeping bag is undeniably cozy.

Before heading back to Boston on Sunday morning, we couldn’t resist one last stop at The Lower Falls on the Swift River, one of the many scenic stops along the highway. Like every area on the Kancamagus, the rocks and water were gorgeous. But it was pretty packed with people. Hiking to a less accessible area the day before had rewarded us with serenity and solitude–well worth the extra effort. I’ve heard that The Kanc can get even busier in the height of foliage season, so arrive early in the day if you want to get a campsite on weekends.

What an attractive bunch! Ron, me, and Mike at the Rocky Gorge.

I wish we could have hiked and camped for another day or two. On this third weekend of September, fall’s colors were just beginning to creep into the leaves. From what we saw, it seemed the sort of vibrant autumn show New England is known for was only a few cold nights away. The Kancamagus Highway will be prime for bare-ground hiking through the first or second week of November. After that, you’d better be prepared for snow.

Alas, homework and work obligations beckoned us back to “the real world.” Since traveling to the Kancamagus and back was easier than starting a fire, more camping and hiking may be in store. That is, unless some other mountain adventure doesn’t get me first.

Backpacking means carry a lot of gear and, if you aren’t careful it’s easy to forget something. (Tim Jones photo)

What they really are is sins of omission.

It happens, at one time or another to anyone who leaves the road behind: You and your boon companions have loaded all your camping gear into a backpack, canoe or kayaks or onto mountain bikes and you’ve hiked, paddled or pedaled far. The sun is heading toward the horizon when you reach your campsite, night is coming fast and, as you unload your gear, you or someone else (hopefully someone else) suddenly says “Did you pack the . . . ?” or “Where is the . . . ?” or even “!#&$*!, I forgot my . . . !”

Here, you can fill in the blank with some item (or items) that you just know you are going to miss, especially because there’s no possible way of rectifying your sin of omission. You are just going to have to live with the consequences for at least one night, maybe longer.

In some cases, what you’ve forgotten really won’t be missed at all: did you really need that travel backgammon set? In other cases, you can make do: a lot of campsite wine has been drunk from coffee cups; a (clean) finger makes a serviceable emergency toothbrush . . .

But then there are essentials: Forgetting insect repellent and protective clothing in bug season can make camp life pure misery. Forgetting your rain gear when a cold rain sets in on Mount Washington can make your trip dangerous. And heading out unprepared in the winter is downright foolhardy.

On a recent overnight, I set a new personal-worst record for forgetting things. After yet another long, stressful day of hard work in a long series of such days, my buddy David (who had come to help me with one piece of the larger project) and I backpacked into one of our off-the-beaten-track campsites for a much needed getaway night. When we got to camp, I had one of those classic “uh-oh” moments. Actually, I had several . . .

When you have everything you need, camp life can be positively luxurious. Just make sure you don’t forget something important. (Tim Jones photo)

I’d remembered the important stuff like solo tent, sleeping bag, stove, fuel, cook kit, insect repellent, toilet kit, most of my share of food, etc. But I’d forgotten my tea mug, wine glass, and the Romaine lettuce for the Caesar salad. I’d also brought two right Crocs for camp shoes (do you get the picture that these overnights are not exactly “roughing it”?). And, most critically, I’d forgotten the pad to go under my sleeping bag. Ooops . . .

For me, packing for a camping trip is a multi stage process that starts with taking what I’ll need from the storage bins in the attic and piling it in the middle of my office. From there, it all goes into whatever backpack, pannier or dry bags I’m using for the particular  trip.

In this case, the sleeping pad, coffee cup and wine glass had made it out of the attic and into the office, but, somehow, they hadn’t made that giant leap into the backpack. When I got home, I found them all under a shirt I’d decided not to take. I just got careless, I guess. The lettuce was in the fridge for last minute packing and somehow that got forgotten, too.

In the grand tradition of all who of us who are good at this CRAFT (“Can’t Remember A Freakin’ Thing”) , I made do with what was available. With plenty of other food (including spareribs and sirloin tips, veggies, and dessert. . .), we didn’t really miss the salad. I carry teabags in a screw-top plastic container that made a dandy wine glass and morning tea cup. And David’s Crazy Creek Hexalite Long chair, folded flat, provided enough padding on the soft forest duff that I slept comfortably through the night, waking only when a thunderstorm boomed overhead and dropped a quick downpour. Actually, it was warm enough and the ground was soft enough that I probably would have slept well without any pad, just by hollowing out a spot for my hip bones. Pads are often more necessary for insulation than they are for padding.

While it’s possible to camp with very little you’re more comfortable if you have everything you need. (Tim Jones photo)

Even with several forgotten items, it was a very pleasant getaway in the midst of a very stressful stretch of days. Well worth doing. Overnight getaways almost always are.

Would it have been better not to forget anything? Absolutely! And I intend to never forget anything again. But I will. And you will, too, if you go camping enough. With any luck, you’ll be able to “make do” and have a grand time anyway.

How To Never Forget Anything Important

1. Always prepare for the next trip as you finish the last one. Clean and dry everything, replace batteries (or put rechargeables in the charger), fuel, toilet paper, toothpaste or anything else that got used up so you don’t end up tearing around at the last minute trying to gather what you need. The more prepared you are, the easier it is to have everything eventually arrive at your campsite in good working order.

2. Store everything where you can find it. I keep the basics for a quick overnight (toilet kit, emergency kit, first aid kit, headlamp, eating utensils, headlamp, etc) in a small plastic storage tub in the attic. Backpacks hang from hooks, tents are on shelves, sleeping bags and pads in big storage bins, etc. So it’s just a matter of picking a backpack, tent, sleeping bag, stove appropriate for the trip. It would be easier if I only owned one backpack, one tent, etc., but what fun would that be?

3. Keep a checklist and use it every time. A checklist can save you a lot of headaches, but only if you actually use it . . . If you only follow one rule to avoid forgetting anything, this is the one to follow. I recommend double checking yourself. Have the checklist in hand and check items off as you put them into the packing pile. The double-check is harder: have the checklist in hand and check items off (with a different color pen, or make an “X” across your first checkmark) as you actually pack them into your backpack, panniers or dry bags. It’s that second check that will prevent you from leaving gear hidden under the shirt you decided not to pack. Pre-print copies of whatever checklist you prefer and leave them WITH your gear; that way, you won’t have to worry if your computer hard drive suddenly dies just before your trip.

4. Cross check and double-check with your companions on communal gear. If you are supposed to bring the stove, or the tent, make sure you know that and do it. Otherwise, people are going to be very annoyed with you at some point. David and I usually put communal gear into laundry baskets or canvas totes in the car to divvy up as we pack at the trailhead or launch ramp. Make sure you write all of your “extras” for the trip onto your checklist, and doublecheck them at the same time you do the others! It is WAY too easy to leave that bag of food in the refrigerator on your way out the door, and if you want to end up on the post office wall as “least wanted on a camping trip”, that’s the fastest way to get there.

5. Get in the habit of taking a final, unstressed look around at each stage of the process. Check where you store your gear, to make sure it all got moved to the staging area. Check the staging area to make sure your sleeping pad hasn’t hidden under a shirt you decided not to take. Check the refrigerator for anything you meant to pack last minute (yes, I said this above, but it’s worth repeating). Check everyone’s car at the trailhead to make sure everything got into backpacks; we’ve left plenty of headlamps on car seats. Check your campsite before you leave in the morning so everything you need comes home for the next trip.

6. If you do forget something (and you will, no matter how careful you are), make do with what you have, learn from your mistake. Hopefully, you haven’t forgotten something that puts you in real jeopardy. As long as it’s not something you need to survive the night, you can  laugh about it and have fun anyway.

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The Gathering: Stopping for our first break along the Bearcamp. (Kate Goodin photo)

It started when my husband decided he wanted us to do something fun and outdoorsy with the WHOLE family. What you don’t know is that most of his side of the family is not the outdoorsy type. So asking them to come up to New Hampshire to go camping, kayaking, and hiking required a lot of cheerleading and positive reinforcement to get them excited about the idea.

The first year we did it, I was six months pregnant, but otherwise we had no children. That allowed us to do a lot of planning and river scouting before we chose a spot to throw our relatives into the current. Still, while we felt prepared and psyched, we were a bit nervous about being responsible for the fun of the whole family, some of whom were really new to this kind of adventure.

The paddle, along the Merrimack from the put-in near the County home down to the Hannah Dustin memorial in Penacook, turned out to be a bit long for some of the group. Those on either end of the age spectrum (every year we have some in the single digits and some octogenarians) were pretty spent by the end of the day. Thankfully the insane thunderstorm that descended upon us as we took out hadn’t come any earlier in the day. As it was it was a wild climax to a great, but exhausting, day.

The first year we focused primarily on the paddling, including just a short jaunt up the (easy) Warner side of Mount Kearsarge to initiate some of the younger cousins, nieces, and nephews into hiking. It was all over too soon, and everyone had so much fun that we decided to expand the festivities the next year.

While Year One had been based at our house, with some people camping in the yard, some on the couches, some just crashed on the floor in our loft, in Year Two we decided to get everyone to stay at the Baker River  Campground for several nights. We figured that would give us a lot more time for visiting around the campfire and doing things in smaller groups. Some went to the Polar Caves while others hiked Mt. Moosilauke. It turned out to be a long hike under the circumstances, i.e. after a leisurely breakfast and more visiting around the campfire, but a good time was had by a few (minus my husband not staying hydrated and totally bonking on the trail…but that’s another story). Initiating a few people into the world of campgrounds was also an interesting experience.

"The Bagel Man toasteth." You can cook almost anything on a campfire. (Kate Goodin photo)

Our paddle in Year Two was a short—maybe too short—jaunt down the Baker River, which you can read about second-hand here. While fun for everyone, last year was tough for me. No longer was my son conveniently stowed in my uterus, but he was now a boisterous and inquisitive ten-month-old who liked his extended family, but generally preferred his Mama. And the whole camping thing was a new environment. We’d done several day hikes with him, but hadn’t ventured into the realm of overnights. I know I’m probably being a wuss, but I find the logistics of diapering mixed with overnight hiking off-putting.

So last year’s flotilla saw me mostly in charge of Max and feeling pretty useless and helpless. I couldn’t really help Doug with the tent or moving boats around, and I even spent the whole river trip under a canopy with barely a glimpse of what was going on around me. It was Max’s first time in a boat and he slept most of the trip, but even when he was awake, neither of us could really see. And I was being carted down the river like some kind of precious princess, which I most definitely am not!

Still, everyone had so much fun that they wanted to know what the plans were “for next year” even before they’d left the campground. So for Year Three we went with the same basic idea again, this time paddling the Bearcamp River and staying at Whit’s End Campground in Ossipee, NH.

We only scraped bottom once...oops, make that twice. (Kate Goodin photo)

Our biggest concern as the weekend drew near was lack of water. New Hampshire has been a dry place this summer and the Bearcamp is not overendowed with water in any August. So when Doug and I visited the campground two weeks before our mid-August float, we were relieved to see that the river, while low, looked easily passable with just a little bit of negotiating. We sent out an email to all our participants reassuring them and reminding those who were renting boats to check on their reservations.

We’ve been very excited to get a lot of newbies to come play in the woods and water with us and renting a boat is the best option when you’re just getting started. All of our rentals this year were from Ski Works in nearby West Ossippee. They delivered the boats to the campground, where we put in just steps from our site, and picked them up from the northwest side of Ossipee Lake when we were done. If we’d needed them to they would have transported even the non-rentals, for a fee of $10/boat. Parking is limited at the takeout and we did consider this option, but decided there was room for our pickup and trailer along the road.

The paddle itself was an easy float downriver. We took several breaks, allowing people to switch from doubles to singles if they wanted, and kids to switch out of tubes. There was even one rope swing that had enough water below it to allow even the big guys to let their inner-Tarzan out. We saw deer tracks and one swimming garter snake which caused quite a stir, (especially when I confessed I’d tried to catch it!) but I think even the most suburban of our campers had more fun than they expected.

Look out below! (Lois Goodin photo)

For those of you with young children, wondering how all of this might work with a toddler in tow, let me reassure you. They will probably have more fun than you will. During the paddle, Max was relaxed and cool headed on the water; he sat in the middle with his Nona for a while, then took a nap. Later I took him up in the bow with me. With him sitting at my feet I was able to paddle almost perfectly. He couldn’t see too well like that, so some of the time I let him sit on the seat between my legs. Since that put his head in my way a bit, when we got out on the choppy lake I asked him to sit down. Like the trooper he is, he sat right down and we went along just fine. He didn’t even blink when a jetski gunned it right next to us and created a wave or two that came up to the gunwales.

My sand-encrusted toddler, pondering his next move. (Kate Goodin photo)

With a little planning ahead (make sure you don’t change their routines too much and be ready to let them get used to new things slowly) camping and boating with a little one are a blast. He doesn’t talk much yet, but I think Max thought these were the best days of his life. He didn’t have to come inside for three whole days and he got cleaned up for bed by playing in the river. Bliss. Most of the weekend he was a giggly blur of sand, clean only when he was actually IN the river. He was more than happy to go off and play with the older kids, and instead of spending most of my time holding a baby, I was able to have fun, relax, and do my part to help out. I just looked up occasionally to make sure my toddler was still in sight somewhere. At night he was so overtired he was literally bouncing off the tent walls and being thrown, still giggling, into the sleeping bags. When we got home he slept twelve hours the first night and more than three hours the next day.

We’ve found that one of the benefits of making a “weekend” (some arrived at the campground as early as Monday!) of it is that you can enjoy more of what the area has to offer. We still found we didn’t get to do all we wanted. I had hoped to fit in a trip to Monkey Trunks, the ropes course on Rt. 16 in Chocorua. It’s just a few minutes away from the campground and looks like a blast. For anyone wanting to take some time off from having adventures, there’s always the shopping in North Conway.

Any way you slice it, taking time to get outside with your family is always worth it. Having seen how mellow Max is in the canoe, I can’t wait to get out on the lake and nearby rivers.

Pitching a tent in the rain and staying dry while you are doing it is easy if you have a tarp. (Tim Jones photo)

In this case, the weather forecast looked . . . not great. A gaggle of warm and cold fronts were wobbling and lurching overhead like a bunch of toddlers learning how to walk and the weather geeks were pulling their hair out. A pre-dawn computer check said the morning would be sunny, the afternoon, evening and overnight cloudy with occasional showers. One site predicted as much as half an inch of rain and another mentioned the possibility of an isolated afternoon or evening thundershower.

A little rain isn’t a big  deal if you’re prepared for it. Even if the weatherman says there’s zero probability of precip, we generally go well prepared for the rain experience. Weather forecasters, after all, have been known to be wrong.

With rain in the forecast and a tent we weren’t familiar with, we went even more prepared than usual. In addition to the brand-new 3-person Carbon Reflex 3 tent  from MSR we were trying, we threw in an 8.5 x 10.5 foot waterproof tarp and a 150 feet of lightweight nylon cord. My old tarp and cords weigh almost 2 pounds. The new siliconized nylon tarps are half that weight and gain almost nothing when they get wet.

Tarps are useful when you are camping in the rain. You can pitch the tarp and set your tent up under it so the tent stays dry until the fly is on. Then, use the tarp to shelter gear that won’t fit in the tent. If your tent fly leaks, you can add the tarp over the top for more protection.

We hit our campsite and immediately strung the tarp between four trees. As we tied the last knot, the sprinkles started, so we pulled our packs underneath and set up the new tent. It’s a beauty—well made, only 5½ pounds, roomy enough for two guys in comfort and a third in a pinch, with two doors which make it easy for two people to use and a covered vestibule at each.

By the time we had the tent fully up and moved to  a level, well drained spot, the passing shower had passed. With raingear ready we headed out for a little hiking. Naturally, it stayed dry . . .

It's OK to sit out on an open ledge on a cool morning after a storm, not so smart when lightning is crackling (Tim Jones photo)

It didn’t rain again until dinnertime, and then only lightly. Under the shelter of the tarp, we heated healthy venison stew on one of two the new stoves we were trying out (stay tuned for more articles on camp cooking, stoves and cookware), ate, sipped wine, listened to the wind in the trees and the sprinkles on the tarp and got ready for bed.

An hour after we hit the sleeping bags, the fireworks started, first as flickers of light on the tent fly followed by distant rumbles we could almost feel more than hear.  The wind picked up, the rain intensified, and the lightning and thunder seemed to park right on top of us.

For the next four solid hours we had heavy rain and constant lightning. And I do mean constant–there was NEVER more than a second or two between flashes. Most of it seemed to be cloud-to-cloud—but at least two bolts landed within a quarter mile of our tent site, not really a comforting feeling. Still, it was an amazing show and the tent stayed absolutely bone dry inside. Did I mention that this is a great tent!

(kabachok.blogspot.com photo)

I’ve never experienced a lightning storm as intense and prolonged as this one. If the weather guys had gotten the forecast right, we’d probably have stayed home and missed a once-in-a-lifetime experience. By all means watch the weather forecasts, then prepare for worse weather and go have fun.

Lightning Safety

Lightning isn’t something to fool around with, but, in my opinion,  it isn’t nearly as big a hazard as the weather geeks would have you believe. You’ve heard the saying: “when thunder roars, go indoors.” Well, it ain’t that easy when a storm brews up at night when you are in a tent several miles from any road. Besides, the only two people I personally know who have actually been hit—indirectly, but still hit—by lightning were indoors when it happened.

How realistic is it to worry about getting struck by lightning? Not very. According to the National Weather Service, over the past 30 years an average of 58 people die in the U.S. each year from being struck by lightning.  The same agency reports roughly 20 million cloud-to-ground lightning strikes in the U.S. each year. No wonder someone getting hit by lightning makes the news

Still, I’ve had lightning strike within a few hundred feet of me nearly a dozen times over the years and I’ve actually seen both a huge pine tree and an electrical transformer being literally blown to pieces by lightning strikes, so I’m not entirely ready to pooh-pooh the possibility of getting hit.

So here’s what I do when thunder roars.

I definitely don’t want to be the tallest object around, even though lightning doesn’t always strike the tallest object. If you don’t believe this, check out this storm-chaser blog for some amazing photos of lightning striking wherever it darn well pleases.

Still, if I’m on or in the water, I get to land as fast as possible. If I’m on a high hill or a ridgetop or open ledges, I head for lower ground. If I’m in the open or among very tall trees, I head for low trees or brush preferably on lower ground. I still believe I’m safer down low.

Other than that, I just sit back and enjoy the show, figuring that short of bolting for the car, my only option is to ride it out. The other night, with lightning snapping overhead for four hours, I was able to lay back (on a Z-Lite foam mattress which should provide some insulation from a nearby strike, right?) , watch the flickering light play on the tent fly, and occasionally doze off until a particularly loud thunderclap would wake me, usually within a minute or two of dozing off, and let me watch the show again. You don’t  get that kind of experience if you run inside and hide every time lightning flashes.

Is this campsite miles from the road or only a few hundred feet? (Tim Jones photo)

Recent articles we’ve posted on winter camping have prompted some readers to write and ask “Are you crazy?,” usually in somewhat gentler terms than that. The answer is, of course, “yes!, but not completely insane.” Insanity would be to jump into cold weather camping without experience or a good mentor.

I’m a big believer in incremental learning, taking new things one step at a time. Camping is one of them. If you are new to sleeping in a tent—or are introducing someone to it—it’s probably best not to start with a six-month trek on the Appalachian Trail.

There are lots of increments to “Camping,” but the eventual goal is to be able to put all the stuff you need for comfort, hygiene and safety onto your back, boat, or bike and go wherever you please under your own power. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? It is, and here’s how to get started.

Step 1: Arm yourself with information. Find an experienced camper who can teach you. That’s absolutely the best way to learn. If you don’t know anyone, join one of the organizations that promote outdoor activities (I’ll put a resource list below.) Read books and magazines and on-line forums and articles, and visit outdoor shops where the store personnel are experienced. But be cautious about who you trust; not every self-styled expert is experienced or reliable . . . If you have specific questions, contact me and I’ll be happy to help if I can.

This campsite offers an easy access to your car, but you can't drive right to it. (Tim Jones photo)

Step 2: Assemble your equipment. I mean that literally. First gather everything  on your backpacking checklist, then try everything out at home before you head out to go camping. The time to try setting up a tent or starting a stove for the first time is NOT when you need it. A wilderness campsite is also an inconvenient place to find that your self-inflating air mattress won’t hold air . . . If you don’t have equipment and can’t borrow it, consider renting. I’ve often rented gear I need but don’t have from EMS, but there are other sources including REI and some on-line companies like Lower Gear and GITTO.

Step 3: Start easy. Personally I’m not a big fan of car-access camping, but roadside campsites are (next to your own back yard) absolutely the best place to do a first campout on your own. Unless you are traveling with someone who knows what they are doing, you should always start your camping career near your car. Having the car gives you the ability to replace something critical you left at home, to get instruction replacement or repair for something that isn’t working, and ultimately, the ability to retreat if things get uncomfortable. Besides, most roadside campsite have “indoor plumbing” which allays one major fear of camping newbies.

Step 4: Leave security in stages. For your first adventure “away” from the road. I’m in favor of what I call “The Great Quarter Mile Backpacking Trip” (though a quarter mile is a totally arbitrary number). There are places in the Adirondacks of New York, the Green Mountain National Forest of Vermont,  The White Mountain National Forest in New Hampshire and in the North Maine Woods, and some private lands where you can camp close to but not right on the road. Again, you have the security of having your car close by and, sometimes, an outhouse for “facilities, but you still have to pack up your gear into a backpack or into a canoe or kayak and carry it some distance before setting up your camp.  It’s great practice and the perfect way to start your  wilderness camping career. Life isn’t a spectator sport. Get out and enjoy!

Quarter-Mile Campsites

This past winter I discovered Merck Forest in southwestern Vermont, which has a number of tent sites a short distance from roads (and a number of backcountry cabin as well). This would be an ideal place for a first “away from the road getaway

Another place is at the AMC’s Cardigan Mountain Lodge where they have campsites a short distance from the lodge itself.

The Hut Alternative

Lonesome Lake Hut was Marilyn's first overnight "camping" destination. If you want someone to love the outdoors, it's best to introduce them in stages. (Tim Jones photo)

Before she met me, my sweetheart Marilyn’s idea of “camping” was a 3-star hotel. Now she’ll happily throw on a backpack full of gear and head out overnight with me (almost) any time I suggest it.  (Hint to guys who want their sweethearts to enjoy camping: I don’t suggest it unless I’m confident conditions are such that she’ll enjoy it! The same goes for older kids. Little ones take to camping as naturally as they take to mud puddles,)

But her first wilderness “overnight” wasn’t in a tent. Instead, I took her to Lonesome Lake Hut, the easiest to reach of the Appalachian Mountain Club’s hut system. There, she had the adventure of hiking away from the road, but the security of four walls,  food you don’t have to carry or cook yourself, a roof,  composting toilets and other people around. Hut hiking means no heavy backpack, and I highly recommend it for a “first overnight in the woods.”

The AMC huts now have some competition in Maine. Maine Huts And Trails has opened two of its planned 12 backcountry huts.

Resources

Chances are any of these organizations can help get you started in safe camping wither through an organized class or by connecting you with like-minded folks

Adirondack Mountain Club.

Appalachian Mountain Club.  Note they have state and regional chapters that are a tremendous resource.

Green Mountain Club.

Hulbert Outdoor Center

If you know any others, please drop me a note.

A game of cribbage passes the afternoon in a snug shelter on an April trip. (Tim Jones photo)

Mud season is a great time to dust the cobwebs off your gear and head out for a shakedown overnight expedition. Or a longer trek if you have the time . . .

Yes, the hiking trails are likely to be a bit muddy at this time of year, and, if you hike properly and stay in the treadway of the trail, walking through puddles and not around them, your feet are going to get wet. Bring extra socks.

During mud season, the woods are as quiet as they’ll ever be. This is an especially great time to explore some of the more popular hiking and camping spots around New England without the crowds. From the first of March until Memorial Day, you can pretty much have it all to yourself, especially mid-week. Even weekends are amazingly quiet in most places

All along the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine, for example, mud season is quiet time. In the deep south, the thru-hikers are moving north, but up here in New England most folks haven’t ventured out yet.

The View: This is the view you see when you wake up in one of the shelters in the White Mountains National Forest. At this time of year, the “first come, first served” rules at these shelters isn’t usually a problem. (Tim Jones photo)

Same is true on the Long Trail that runs the length of Vermont. The state parks in New York and Connecticut get really crowded in the summer, but not in the spring.

And across the Green Mountain National Forest in Vermont and White Mountain National Forest in New Hampshire, this is the quiet time. Many of the gravel roads are gated for mud season. Lots of these roads have primitive campsites along them. In the summer these places are crowded, but at this time of year you can hike in on the roads and not see another soul. These are perfect for folks who aren’t up for a long hike with a backpack so early in the season  and ideal for testing out new equipment before you head out on an extended expedition later on.

Along the more popular hiking trails in the Whites and the Greens, there are established, hike-in campsites, usually with tent pads (compacted, flattened ground), tent platforms (raised wooden platforms you can pitch a tent on) and/or lean-to style shelters. In the summer, these places get lots of visitors. At this time of year, not so many.

This lean-to along the Appalachian Trail provides welcome shelter for a spring overnight. At this time of year, you can probably have it all to yourself. (Tim Jones photo)

Established sites away from the roads are especially nice at this time of year. With an established campsite, you don’t have to go looking for a place to pitch your tent. No matter how muddy the trail is getting there, most campsites will have either compacted tent pads that dry quickly as soon as the snow goes, or raised wooden tent platforms that keep you up out of the mud.

Many also have lean-to shelters which are very convenient, especially if it’s raining. Setting up a tent in the rain isn’t much fun but ducking into a dry lean-to and listening to the rain on the roof sure is . . .

I’m big on privacy, basically don’t like to camp near other people if I can help it, so I tend to gravitate toward the most remote sites where other people are less likely to show up. So even if my destination has a lean-to shelter, I always carry a small, freestanding tent with me so I don’t have to share the lean-to with others. That happens so rarely, I’m not quite sure why I bother with the tent.

If you’ve been cooped up in your house all winter, getting out and about in the spring is a wonderful thing. You don’t have to wait for summer (when the bugs are out) to go camping. Life isn’t a spectator sport. Get out and enjoy!

One Exception

While most of New England’s trails and shelters are  quiet at this time of year, there’s one very notable exception. In the spring, Tuckerman Ravine draws skiers and snowboarders from across the northeast, sometimes more than 1,000 a day.

An awful lot of those folks stay in the lean-tos or on the tent platforms at Hermit Lake in the White Mountains National Forest just below Tuckerman. If you’re looking for peace, quiet and solitude in March or April, best to look somewhere else.

Downsides

Of course there are always disadvantages to anything, and established campsites are no exception.

Though most established sites will have at least one fire ring where campfires are permitted, wood is usually in short supply nearby. Plan on hiking some distance to find dead, down, dry firewood.  Cutting live trees is a huge no-no.

Finally, more people mean more food scraps left around and that means critters. I’m especially wary of bears near established campsites, but, truth be told, raccoons, skunks and, especially, mice are more likely to be a problem.

Tent Notes

QuarterDome Home: A freestanding tent like this dome style from REI is easier to set up on wooden tent platforms or pads than a tent which needs to be staked down. (Tim Jones photo)

A couple of things to keep in mind about tents at established campsites:

1) If you are planning on camping where there are wooden tent platforms, a free-standing tent (one that doesn’t need stakes to hold it up) is MUCH easier to pitch.

2) Wooden platforms and gravel pads are very rough on the nylon floor of your tent. Use a groundcloth underneath your tent to protect the floor

Last year I picked up a near-ideal freestanding tent for this kind of camping situation. It’s called the Quarter Dome from REI, comes in one, two and three person configurations (the one-person is really small but incredibly light—perfect as a backup), and by today’s tent standards, it’s very high quality at a low price. Two things I really like about it: First, it has an optional “footprint” that serves as a groundcloth, protecting the tent floor. Second, with that footprint, you can set up just the fly without the tent which is great for saving weight when there aren’t any bugs around.

Resources

Here are some websites that can guide you toward a campsite:

Connecticut State Parks

Massachusetts State Parks

Green Mountain National Forest

White Mountain National Forest

Merk Forest

Appalachian Mountain Club

Green Mountain Club

Adirondack Mountain Club

Appalachian Trail Conservancy

A tiny miracle! (David Shedd photo)

Ask my family…I’m a total flashlight buff.  They almost invariably get the latest  in their stockings at Christmas.  At $23, this one is a little out of my stocking stuffer price range , but I’m recommending that they spend their own money on it!

LED lights are a no-brainer for emergency kits thanks to the durability of the LED over any standard bulb, plus the dramatically higher efficiency that saves batteries. My emergency kit flashlight for a couple of years now has been the Coast LED Lenser.  It’s small, light, and bright; and of course it’s waterproof.  But when I saw the ITP A3 EOS at Battery Junction, I had to give it a try.

There are two versions of this light, “standard” and “upgrade”.  The standard has one light level; the upgrade has switching for 3 different levels so you can choose the amount of light you want with the longer battery life of a lower level.  Great idea, but in an emergency kit,  simplicity rules.  One more switch is one more thing to break.

In it came…I knew it was going to be small, but I absolutely wasn’t prepared for just HOW tiny it is.  Take a look at the photo…it’s smaller than a lip balm!  And WITH the battery, it’s under one ounce. Let me put that a different way…it’s lighter than the battery for the LED Lenser.  With two spare batteries, it’s lighter  than the other with no spares, and  takes up less space.

Size DOES matter! (David Shedd photo)

Obviously, the performance  suffers, right?  Wrong.  This light is better in every way.  First, it’s BRIGHTER,  subjectively roughly twice as bright as the Lenser.  Second, the light is whiter, more like daylight.  Third, the beam pattern is broader, well focused in the center, with more around the edges to cover more area.

Brighter, better beam pattern--no tradeoff! (David Shedd photo)

Final analysis…flawless.  Tiny, bright, with a (removable) pocket clip to allow you to attach it somewhere and keep it from rolling, this is a no-brainer for my backpacking emergency kit(for your car, you might want to consider other options).  To paraphrase Lee Iacocca, if you can find a better light, buy it!

The "Blower" in its natural environment (David Shedd photo)

Nobody ever accused me of  being a minimalist backpacker.  I’ve been called “strong like ox, dumb like ox” and I believe it…so, why not carry a few extra pounds?  On most trips I carry the Air Grill Blower (yes, “Blower” is the highly imaginative product name).  My least favorite camp chore is getting down on my knees in wet duff and trying to blow life into a fitful  fire.  In the fall, when things tend to get wet, it’s a miserable chore… smoke always blows back in your face, you get lightheaded from hyperventilating, and it’s inefficient .  So, when I saw the Blower in the Campmor catalog for 10 bucks, I had to give it a try.

The unit is lightweight plastic, with a crank handle and a metal end so that you don’t melt it the first time you get it near the fire.  Gently turning the handle produces a good volume of air that you can direct wherever you want (not that irritating my dog with it EVER crossed my mind!).  WARNING:  Do NOT crank  hard!  The lightweight construction makes it easy to strip the gears.  I ruined one, contacted the company, and they sent me a replacement for shipping cost.  They  told me that cranking hard doesn’t increase the air volume, and they’re right.  With the new one, I’ve been more gentle, had zero problems, and fires start just as well.

Okay, since I’m going to get some abuse for carrying the extra weight, let’s quantify it. On my scale…4.1 ounces.  Sorry, but that’s NOT a lot of weight, particularly when  I can leave some firestarters at home because of it.

Lightweight, easy to use,  makes camping more pleasant, and adds a safety measure (particularly to winter camping, where a fire can be critical to comfort), I rate the Air Grill “Blower” 10 out of 10.  In anything other than hot, dry summer weather when campfires are a no-no, it’s always in my backpack!  Even if you’re an expert firebuilder (if you aren’t, you can learn how to be one here), this takes a lot of time, aggravation, and in wet weather, stress out of the project.  If you’d like proof that I actually use it, check out the photo in the “Warm/Cold Winter Camping” article!

Air Grill also makes a product called The Inflator.  It’s basically a Blower on steroids…bigger mechanism, bigger handle, you name it.  From a backpacking perspective, it’s a non-starter…it weighs twice as much as the Blower, takes  up a lot more space in the pack…just doesn’t make sense.  However, if you’re a car camping person, or like having a fire at the beach, this thing really works.  It’s not just a firestarter, but has attachments so that you can blow up beach balls, air mattresses, etc.  They of course say “don’t blow up big things like air beds”…so, of course I tried that.  Amazingly enough, you CAN blow something like that up.  It’s nowhere near as fast as a big foot pump, but in a pinch, it’ll do.  And for beach balls, or for the pillows for the air bed, it works like a charm.  Party friendly, it has a bottle opener built into the handle so you don’t have to go thirsty while you’re doing that hard work of blowing up a water toy.  For only $5 more than the Blower, it’s a good value for that kind of use.