Canaan Birthdays

“Hey honey, I have a great idea about how to celebrate your 50^th birthday. How about we spend the weekend in West Virginia with a bunch of my friends whom you barely know? We’ll leave you behind at the house while we go out and do a bunch of outdoor activities you don’t enjoy. And by the way, would you cook us dinner the night of your birthday?”

These are not the words of a sane man. Fortunately, Valerie’s back has been bothering her recently, leaving her unable to swing a baseball bat or a meat cleaver to any great effect, and so I’m alive today to recount the story of our weekend.

First, though, I must correct a slight distortion on my part. I did not actually ask Valerie to cook dinner (the rest of the first paragraph is true). Rather, I mentioned that I had signed up to bring a vegetarian main course and Valerie, knowing that I’d opt for something along the lines of a quinoa-crusted, kale-wrapped tempeh infested habanero tofu lentil curry, acted in her own self-interest and preempted my Moosewood-on-meth style of cooking with the more mainstream choice of her excellent vegetable lasagna.

So, Friday after lunch we headed west loaded up with lasagna, birthday cake and winter sports gear. It was a quick trip out the lovely and uncrowded Corridor H road (WV 55/48) followed by a chance to gawk at the giant wind turbines as we traversed the twisty Mt. Storm road over into Davis. We arrived at the house to find Bela, Jen and Yvonne already there. The rest of the crew trickled in fairly soon thereafter – Suzanne, Susan, Peter* and Gina. Friday night was devoted to catching up and pre-loading on calories in preparation for the weekend’s activities. Our dinner featured the lasagna, Jen’s wonderful chicken marbella, salad and green beans, brussel sprouts, an assortment of fresh breads – and of course birthday cake and champagne! (I’m sure I’m forgetting some things). 

Relaxing after dinner at Doc's Guest House

Saturday dawned cold and snowy, with temperatures barely into the double digits. A steady light snow overnight had covered the area with a fresh layer of powder. After slowly rolling through breakfast and mustering the group (Suzanne and Susan were staying at a nearby B&B) we headed over to Whitegrass to do some cross-country skiing. In my haste to pack the car on Friday I had forgotten my ski boots. Whitegrass didn’t have any boots to rent that matched my old-school three pin bindings and so I had to rent the whole kit and caboodle – which gave me a chance to try some more modern equipment. Unfortunately, I don’t get to ski very often and so I’m a perpetual beginner. As a result Suzanne and I stuck to the lower, easier trails – Springer Orchard, Gandolf’s Glade, and Timberline. Jen, who is a more proficient skier, and Yvonne, who is just fearless and unstoppable, split off from us after Springer Orchard and headed to the more challenging upper trails. Bela and Susan went off to snow shoe, and Gina and Peter headed off on their own, as is their wont. We really only skied for half a day, as we got a slightly late start and I didn’t want to leave Valerie alone for too long (though she was well equipped with needlecrafts, books and movies). Also, it was pretty cold - the drinking tube of my Camelback froze right up, leaving me no with drinkable water in addition to ice cold hands. Along the trail I got a little extra amusement and distraction from my cold digits: thanks to her new extra-svelteness, Suzanne's ski pants were loose on her and she had to stop periodically and do a rather unorthodox XC ski shimmy to pull them up as they started to sink down towards her knees. 

Back at the Whitegrass lodge, conditions were packed like a Tokyo subway car at rush hour thanks to the good conditions and holiday weekend, but even so maintained its scruffily pleasant vibe. One cannot leave Whitegrass without soup and so I fought my way through the crowd and got a bowl of spinach barley. Overall, it was a good day, enhanced by an ongoing light snow.

Saturday night most of us ate leftovers from Friday’s dinner. Valerie had hit the leftovers for lunch and so I ran across the street to Hellbender’s and got her a burrito. While I waited for her food I got into a conversation with a couple of Whitegrass employees who were hanging out at the bar. They clued me into some snow shoe trails at Whitegrass. While we didn’t wind up making use of them on this trip, I’ll file away the knowledge for the future. Our dinner included birthday cake, of course! And champagne! This time it was for Bela’s birthday, which fell on Saturday.

Sunday’s forecast was for continued cold, with 20-30 MPH winds and more snow. Gina had told us Saturday night that any temperature below ten degrees should be modified with the adjectival phrase “fun-loving”, and so I report that we arose Sunday to gusty winds and a temperature reading of eight fun-loving degrees. No one was eager to get outside – except for Yvonne, who would give the Energizer Bunny a coronary if he tried to keep up with her (as an aside, I’m sure Yvonne is good friends with the Energizer Bunny and has had him over for dinner). Eventually, a few brave souls wandered over to see the B&B where Suzanne and Susan were staying, then we all regrouped at the house and set out. Bela, Jen, Suzanne and I headed over to Blackwater Falls State Park where we snow-shoed some beautiful trails. Despite the temps, I kept warmer than I had the day before – my hands had been a real problem while I had been skiing on Saturday. Still, our outing was a somewhat short one as we could keep warm for only so long. As we walked we enjoyed the odd wavy pattern that Bela’s old-school beavertail snowshoes left in the snow. We occasionally stopped to take pictures, but we really had to keep moving to stay warm. 

Jesse, Bela, Jen & Suzanne at Blackwater Falls

 After we were done we headed over to Tip Top in Thomas for coffee. It turned out that they had a light menu available as well and so we got a little lunch. I had a bowl of rather tasty spicy Thai curry soup with tofu (of course). We ducked into the antique tchotchke store next door so they could show me an accordion but we didn’t linger. Instead we headed back to the house where we found Valerie – who was hungry, having been left out of lunch.

Blackwater Falls State Park

Sunday night we ate dinner at Whitegrass, which is an interesting experience (made more interesting by a drive through a near whiteout to get there). For dinner they convert the lodge into a restaurant, with live Irish music and a semi-buffet menu. It’s funky and loud. I can’t say it was a dining experience I’d like to repeat again and again, but it was fun enough.

Dinner at Whitegrass

Our original plan had been to head out to The Purple Fiddle in Thomas after dinner, but given the challenging driving conditions and our general sloth we decided to just head home, where we ate leftover cake and Suzanne’s delicious drunken pears for dessert. However, the true highlight of the evening was a fitful sing-along lead by the resident out-of-practice accordionist. Gina and Peter left for home but soon returned – driving conditions had gotten pretty bad and they thought better of trying to make the trip.

Sunday was actually the nicest weather day – somewhat warmer and sunny. Some folks stuck around and enjoyed it with some more skiing, but about half the group packed up and hit the road. As always, the micro-climate of Canaan is particularly strange as you head out of it. While Davis had about two feet of snow on the ground, twenty minutes into the trip home all signs of snow were gone – we had an easy cruise on dry roads back home.

All in all, a successful weekend, and Valerie’s birthday celebration continues …

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*There was only one Peter H on this trip and so I don't have to use my usual nomenclature. If you're keeping score, this was Peter H2.

Spinning Wheels

I've recently started working at a location in Rockville, MD. It's an interesting job but the commute can be a challenge. So, I've joined a gym up there and have been easing the commute by working out until the traffic lightens one or two times per week. I've been experimenting with spinning classes as a path to fulfill my goal of becoming a stronger cyclist. I like spinning. It doesn't require coordination or much ability to stay with group movements (it's no zumba). Also, since you have control of the resistance you can tailor the difficulty of the workout as needed while still staying in synch with the class. 

So far I've taken four classes.Three of the four were great. The fourth was OK except that the instructor kept handing things over to one of the participants, who is apparently the local top spinning dog and subs as the instructor for some classes. This guy's goal was clearly to demonstrate how superior he was. He called out cadences and difficulty levels that no one in the class was able to match - well beyond just pushing the group a little. He also encouraged us to "make our quads scream" and "kill it" and "feel the pain". Maybe it's just my taste, but I respond better to a supportive, encouraging approach than to someone who wants to make me feel bad about myself and sustain injuries.

I mentioned that I "joined a gym". Actually, I got a fitness membership at the Rockville Jewish Community Center. I'm reveling in working out in this environment - young Israeli kids speaking Hebrew to each other in the gym, middle-aged ladies complaining about the draft in the spin class room when the fan is on then complaining about how hot it is once it's turned off, grabbing a snack from the in-house kosher Subway after my workout.

All that notwithstanding, or notwithspinning, today I went out for a real world bike ride for the first time since starting spinning. I took the 29er MTB out on the C&O Canal Tow Path and ducked down some side trails (inadvertently winding up on a section of the Billygoat trail, which is a hiking trail where cycling isn't allowed - I backed out as soon as I realized this). I swear my riding was stronger than ever before, even after having gone running earlier in the day. Either I've already built some quad strength (without even making them scream!) or maybe I've just become aware of how I can push myself a little more on the bike. For better or for worse I had an ear-to-ear grin as I bombed along the trail, enjoying the nippy January weather.

On the Billygoat Trail - Oops

Starting Off the New Year Right

A New Year's Day kayaking trip is something of a tradition for Chesapeake Paddlers Association folks. There's just something wonderfully audacious about being out on the water on the inevitably cold morning of January 1st when the world is for the most part still in bed fuzzily recovering from New Year's revels. Of course, it is a taste which is less than universally shared: Ralph put a call for paddlers to launch from Carr's Wharf and only three people showed up - including Ralph. As it happens, it was something of a CPA leadership paddle, since the three participants were the organization's Coordinator, the "King" of the Pirates of the North weekly paddling group, and a Steering Committee member (that would be me). OK, maybe the New Year's Day paddle is a tradition only for crazy diehards.

Ralph and Bob

Be that as it may, the three of us met at the wharf at 9 AM. Carr's Wharf appears to be an old ferry landing, too decrepit now to be of much use as a ramp for trailered boats but perfect for launching kayaks. A badly decomposed deer in the middle of the launch area added to the charm.

Getting Ready to Launch @ Carr's Wharf

We launched into the Rhode River and headed back into the coves and creeks, first paddling past the YMCA Camp Letts up into Seliman's Creek, then exploring Muddy Creek, and then finally Bear's Head Creek for a total of about 7.5 miles.

As always with winter paddles, my hands were my main problem. The air temp was above freezing but my hands felt painfully cold from launch through landing and stayed sore the rest of the day. This is a chronic problem for many kayakers and we all experiment to try and find a solution.

After we got off the water Ralph broke out his wife's home-made gingerbread cookies and offered tea & hot cocoa as well - a nice little post paddling snack. Finally, after shooting the breeze for a while, we all headed our separate ways.

A great way to start the year. I hope it's a harbinger of a good kayaking year to come.

Our track

Kayaking in Virzhiniya

Jews of my parents' generation were obsessed with knowing which celebrities were Jewish. In an era before people flaunted their ethnic roots and when anti-Semitism was a real concern, they relished a quiet pride in those Jews who had "made it" in the greater world (the actor Tony Curtis was born Bernard Schwartz!). My generation was clearly influenced by our parents' habit: Jewish celebrity name dropping is one of the main elements of Adam Sandler's execrable Hanukkah Song. I even have to admit I'm a little guilty of playing this game myself (Scarlett Johannson, Maggie Gyllenhaal, and of course Natalie Portman - if you are reading this you are welcome to come over and study Talmud any time. And bring Mila Kunis too).

Which brings me to Boris. I bumped into Boris when I was launching from Columbia Island Marina with a couple of friends on a cool December morning. Our goal was to paddle up to Fletcher's Cove Marina and rendezvous with a Meetup Group outing being organized by our friend Deke. Boris was there indepedently and launched behind us, but he did wind up catching up with us once we met up with Deke's group. Initially all I knew about Boris was that he was paddling a gorgeous work of art - a strip-built baidarka style kayak. Museum quality stuff, and not a kit like my Shearwater.

Deke's group was composed of a bunch of fairly inexperienced paddlers and some stand-up paddle boarders. We paddled up river together past Chain Bridge, but when Deke took the group up into the squirrely currents at the base of Little Falls I decided to hang back and have a snack. Taking that group into challenging currents in the cold waters of December seemed foolhardy to me and I just didn't want to be in the middle of it. For the record, the group did wind up with someone in the water -it was Deke himself who fell off his SUP; fortunately he self-rescued without incident.

Meeting up with Deke's group at Fletcher's

Boris came back downriver past me as I was enjoying the sunshine and my Powerbar. He hadn't really been with either Deke's group or mine to begin with and so wasn't waiting around for them. I myself had little patience for sitting around waiting for the group to return from around the bend and so the two of us decided to break off and return together to Columbia Island.

As we paddled back I learned that he was a Soviet Jew who had been part of the major Soviet Jewish emigration wave which took place in the 70's through 90's (just like Mila Kunis!). He had lived in Israel until eventually work took him to the U.S. - to Brooklyn, and finally Silver Spring, Maryland. As we paddled and talked he figured out that I was Jewish too. He was thrilled and amazed to discover another Jew on the water, and one who shared Brooklyn and Litvak roots at that (my mother's family, if you trace it a few hundred years, is from Boris' home city of Vilna). He excitedly exclaimed, in his Lithuanian/Russian accent, how unusual it was and how rare it was in all his years of kayaking to run into another Jew on the water (I have found this to be true as well).

Having basked in ethnic bonding all the way down the river we exchanged numbers, promising to kayak together again. It being the last day of Chanukah* we wished each other a chag sameach (happy holiday) and went on our ways - two modern day Noahs, each with our own little personal wooden arks.

Boris' & my kayaks

 *Chanukah is the transliteration I prefer for the Hebrew word חֲנֻכָּה. When referencing Adam Sandler's song I use the spelling he used in the title. Actually, I'm kind of keen on YIVO's choice of Khanike because of its Yiddish flavor and the clever use of the less common "kh" to indicate the "חֲ" sound.

Milestones Along a Trail

How did I want to spend the day of my milestone birthday? Well, I happened to have the day off, and Ted was home from college for Thanksgiving break and so the question almost answered itself: out for a hike (with some geocaching, of course) with my favorite hiking partner followed by dinner with the whole family.

Before Thanksgiving break I had scoped out some new hikes between Arlington and JMU, figuring that I might actually drive down and pick Ted up and then go hiking on the way home. As it happened it didn't work out that way as I had to run to NY to help out my dad, whose house was significantly damaged by Hurricane Sandy. We decided to stick with one of the hikes we had researched, even though it meant driving about half way back to JMU - a little crazy given that Ted had just come from there.

Our destination was Signal Knob, an area at the very north end of the George Washington National Forest. This area is close to but distinct from Shenandoah National Park and Skyline Drive.That particular trail offers two possible loop hikes, but both were pretty long. I figured that we might give out and do a shorter out-and-back hike given that I'm recovering from a badly sprained ankle and that Ted's only exercise since leaving for school has been twelve ounce lifts.

The Signal Knob trails have a very rocky tread and so I was glad, with my weak ankle, that I had worn my hiking boots. At the trail head we passed a bench with a set of car keys on it, along with a note - someone else had found the keys along the trail and had brought them back to the lot. Given that the lot was nearly deserted, whoever's keys they were had clearly found another way home (of course the trail system is served by a number of parking areas, and so the good Samaritan may not have brought the keys to the right lot).

We continued up the mountain. It's a pretty trail with a number of good views along the way. I started out dressed for the cool morning. As we hiked I warmed up and shed some layers.

We took a break at Buzzard Point to look for a geocache. Unfortunately the GPS location was bouncing around something awful and so we eventually gave up despite logs saying it was an "easy find". We hiked through a few more switchbacks, each of which presented a nice view, until we finally reached a point where we had to make a decision. Hike any further and we were pretty much committed to doing the whole loop.

The last of this year's Fall foliage

I decided to try and get a picture of some of the last of the fall foliage. As I lay on my back on the trail pointing the camera up into some leaves the only other people we saw all day happened by - and amazingly, it was two geocachers we knew! One was there to make his 9500th geocache find (that's pretty extreme, even among committed cachers). We chatted for a bit then they continued down the mountain, back towards the parking lot. They did give us enough of a hint about the location of the Buzzard Point cache to allow us to find it on our way down.

We bumped into them again as we puzzled over the best route to the other geocache on our list. We had noticed on the way in that along the trail we had gotten within 250 feet of it, but that those final 250 feet appeared to be a pretty vertical rock scramble. Again, our cacher friends pointed in the general direction (yes, we had to take on the rock scramble) and Ted and I headed on up while they continued down the mountain.

After getting to the right location, finding the cache was easy; it was a large ammo can in plain sight. We took a break to catch our breath and enjoy the view, then headed back down.

On the way home we made our usual stop at the Gainesville WaWa market for soft pretzels and drinks (coffee in my case, a mammoth soda in his). It was a really nice day over all and it was really great to get a chance to spend some time with Ted.

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By the way, overall my birthday celebration included:
- A dinner party at our house with friends
- Hiking with Ted
- A kayaking outing at Mason Neck
- Dinner out at Mad Fox with Valerie and the boys
- This hike
- Dinner with Henry, Colleen and my dad at Picket Fence in Brooklyn
- I also sort of include a Thanksgiving weekend jam with Bob C.'s crew, Thanksgiving dinner out, and going to see the Klezmatics next weekend.

Pre-Birthday Paddle

Yvonne, Tom, Cyndi, Me, Dave, and Rob (photo by Suzanne)

My half-century birthday is not being observed in one big bang party. Rather, it's being celebrated through a series of events: a dinner party at home, dinner out with my brother and dad, dinner with my family, and the subject kayaking outing with my kayaking friends. Mason Neck State Park has become the traditional location for my birthday paddles and so I invited a group of my friends out for a trip from Mason Neck to Leesylvia Park .

The group wound up being eleven people - quite a nice size, and at that was down a few at that from the original count due to some last minute drop-outs due to the weather (not everyone has full cold weather gear, and conditions were right on the edge in terms of needing it) and personal reasons. As always we got a punctual start despite some folks coming from as far away as Baltimore.

It's that time of year where it's impossible to dress properly: if you're dressed warmly enough for immersion you wind up sweating while you paddle. I tried my best to ride the line and still wound up working up quite a sweat inside my dry suit. A few people on the trip got cold; I can't fathom how that could be when we were exerting ourselves on a 50 degree day while all bundled up - and I'm almost always colder than everyone else. Admittedly, there was a bit of a wind blowing: more than forecast, and enough to turn Belmont Bay into an interesting mish-mash of chop.

I was pretty tired starting out, as I had driven back from Brooklyn the night before after spending a few days working with my brother to clean up my dad's house after it flooded during Hurricane Sandy. I had gotten up early and made a mad dash around the house gathering up and loading my gear. However, being on the water always invigorates me and I soon forgot my weariness as I watched the eagles and negotiated the choppy ride over to Leesylvania, where we took an early lunch break in one of the picnic pavilions. Dave and Cyndi shared a hummus platter, I brought a box of cookies from a fine Italian bakery in Brooklyn, others had other good stuff - there was plenty of food for all! Tom brought along his suggestive Banana Guard.

Ralph hops a freight train

We launched back into the surf and headed under a high railroad bridge into Neabsco Creek. A freight train rattled over the bridge just as we were passing under it, adding noise and drama as it clackity-clacked overhead. Soon, though, quiet returned and we enjoyed the calm waters of the creek. We even spied a few tundra swans as we did our exploring.

The ride back was into the wind, which meant a pounding ride as the boats smashed over the waves. My wooden kayak doesn't have a very buoyant bow and so it tends to slice through rather than go over waves. This makes for a smoother but slower and wetter ride as waves roll across the front deck. In any case, the ride back was an exhilarating workout and we all arrived back with smiles on our faces, even the few who had lost feeling in their feet.

About half the group stopped at Glory Days grill for a post-paddling warm-up snack. All-told, the tally was eleven people, twelve miles, four eagles, three tundra swans - and a partridge in a pear tree (oops, I shouldn't make that reference until after Thanksgiving - sorry!).

Track Map

For the record, my birthday celebration included:
- A dinner party at home with some close friends
- Dinner out with my dad & brother on fashionable Cortelyou Rd. in Brooklyn
- This kayaking trip
- Dinner outwith Valerie & the boys at Mad Fox
- Sad to say, a little extravagance in clothes shopping in preparation for my new job.
- Since my birthday was the day before Thanksgiving, our Thanksgiving dinner out was kinda sorta a birthday celebration too.

That's Why They Call It "Fall"

My outdoor activities were dealt a forced pause about three weeks ago when I took a tumble while out for a morning run. I had just started the return leg of a roughly 5K outing and decided to detour over to the Bluemont Park restroom (my habit of slugging down a cup of coffee just before heading out sometimes brings about a desire for such a pit stop). I tripped over something while jogging across the gravel area around the restroom and went flying into a skidding belly flop across the gravel, twisting the heck out of my foot along the way. I got up and examined myself as best I could in the dim light. Both palms were scraped up; one palm and one knee were bleeding and my foot felt like someone was attacking it with a branding iron. I was so shocked that I didn’t even think to check whether I had torn the brand new running shirt I was wearing; if you know me you know that means I was pretty distracted. I dragged myself over to a nearby park bench where I sat for a couple of minutes collecting myself.


My biggest immediate problem was that I was almost two miles from home. I didn’t have my phone or any money with me and so I had no way to contact anyone or get a ride home. It was six AM and so there was no one around to ask for help. I gritted my teeth and began a long, slow walk home, each step more painful than the preceding one. By the time I got home I was in a lot of pain. I iced my foot, put it up on some pillows and watched TV for a while.

I also emailed Valerie, who, when she heard about and saw the extent of my injuries, cajoled me into going to the emergency room, where they found that fortunately I hadn’t broken anything. They reiterated the Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation (RICE) advice, told me to keep weight off it, gave me crutches and sent me on my way. Over the next couple of days my foot swelled enormously and turned all sorts of colors. I think I hurt my foot about as badly as someone could without breaking anything.

Well, three weeks later things are well on the path to mending. I can fit into shoes again. I’m walking without a limp. My right ankle is still swollen and a little bit tender and the whole area is tight (I have been stretching but I wouldn’t dare think of running!). I can kayak and row on the erg, and this weekend I may even try biking if the forecast Frankenstorm holds off.

Here’s the worst part … I took a fall in exactly the same spot in October of 2008, though with less serious consequences. I even memorialized it in the description of a geocache I placed nearby. I often snicker at the people running bedecked with headlamps and flashy lights in the morning – I mean really, who needs a headlamp to see where they’re going on the urban section of the W&OD trail? – but I’m beginning to think they have a point.

Ouch