More Kitchen Exploits

While I don't write a cooking blog-- actually far from it-- it seems that we spend a lot of time in the kitchen so when we share about life stories from the kitchen are usually part of it.  Recently our posts have been full of adventures and activities.  I looked up the definition for adventure (I love definitions for some nerdy reason) and here is what Webster says:

adventure: an exciting or very unusual experience; a bold, usually risky undertaking; hazardous action of uncertain outcome

So it turns out that our adventures continue in a somewhat smaller version in our kitchen if it includes risky and hazardous undertakings and unusual experiences.

A few weeks ago I stopped at a farmer's market on my way home from work to pick up some Colorado peaches.  Peaches are the epitome of  a hot, lazy late summer day wrapped up in a fruit-sized package with some fuzz.  That evening we had rib-eye steaks and fresh peaches.   Arthur was excited for the steak but was almost more excited about the peaches.  We had peaches throughout that week and it was delightful.  Then being the thoughtful, loving wife that I am I decided to by a 20 pound box of peaches to freeze so my husband can enjoy frozen peaches the whole year-- doesn't that sound like a mix between Ma Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie and June Cleaver from Leave it to Beaver.  In all reality, I really love frozen peaches too and freezing peaches is about the least amount of work when it comes to food preservation.  Therefore, a little bit of work (freezing peaches) for a large return on investment (a happy husband)-- sounds like a winner to me.  Oh and then I asked/suggested that Arthur help in the process.  Ward Cleaver wouldn't stand a chance if he was up against my husband in the kitchen.  

Once I purchased the peaches I decided I had time that night I would just get the whole process done right then.  I scalded 5 or 6 and then put them in the cold water to skin.  But the skins didn't come off-- not a good sign.  At that point I realized in my haste to be the perfect housewife I hadn't considered that the peaches weren't quite ripe enough and I would have to put it off for a few more days.  But I had a handful of scaled peaches that had to be used for something right then or go to waste.  I then switched gears and decided to whip up to peach crisps with these peaches-- even though they were a little firm baking in the over for 45 minutes and a healthy dose of sugar would do wonders.  (Mary Poppins and her spoon full of sugar has been great advice to save many cooking "adventures" in my experience.)  The peach crisps turned out to be delicious.  I did take the extra one to work the next day were a helpful and motherly co-worker informed me that it was quite good but the peaches were  little firm so next time I should let them ripen in a brown paper bag first.  I just smiled and nodded.  We waited a few more days and then dove into the freezing process.  I stood at the hot stove with my boiling pots of water dipping peaches in and out like one of the witches in Macbeth.   Arthur's job was to fish the peaches out of the sink of cold water and skin them.  As he skinned them he placed the golden orbs of peachy goodness into a bowl.  We then sliced, added a little more sugar, and put the slices in bags for the freezer.  I came to find out that this was Arthur's inaugural food preserving experience.  There is nothing quite like standing around in a hot kitchen with fruit juices running down your arms to your elbows doing repetitive and monotonous for the delayed gratification of a tasty treat several months later.  While I love the idea of continuing on in a heritage of food preservation like mothers and grandmothers in previous generations, I also think that these industrious women would have jumped at the opportunity to walk into the grocery store in the middle of January to buy a jar of pickles or jelly for $2 instead of slaving away in a hot kitchen themselves.  In fact, I don't think I have heard of anyone sharing pleasant memories about canning at all.  

I have always known that when I had a home of my own I would continue to "put up food".  However, I never thought the day would come when I would make gyros in my own kitchen.  But that's what I did this week.  Gyros are a Greek food.  It is pronounced "heroes" not "gyro" like a gyroscope.  However the root word gyro- is Greek meaning "circle" or "to turn".  The meat in gyros is cooked rotisserie style, turning constantly.  Gyros include meat, usually lamb, with onions, tomatoes, and tzatziki sauce (wouldn't that be a great word for Scrabble) rolled up and served in a pita.  My brother gave us some of the lamb that was left from the lamb roast at the 4th of July that has been in our freezer which inspired this sudden dive into Greek cooking since I really have no other idea of what to cook with lamb.  And technically I didn't follow any of the rules to making traditional gyros.  I am finding that as I gain just a little bit of confidence in my cooking (my last complete cooking failure was last year) I am more willing to go "off-roading" and stray from the recipe a little.   I didn't have rotisserie lamb so I just cut what I had into chunks.  In Kansas tortillas are much easier to find than pitas so that's what I used.  Tzatziki sauce calls for plain Greek yogurt, surely vanilla is pretty much the same thing.  I was also out of lemon juice but did have fresh mint and cucumber so I stuck to the script there.  Overall they turned out fairly well and Arthur was floored that I made gyros which are one of his favorites-- he also never dreamed that he would see me attempting this.  

My other cooking adventure I wrote about in our last post.  I had never cooked more than s'mores on a campfire before, shoot, I don't even know how to grill.  I decided for dinner on our camping trip to do something easy.  No moose steak dinners with pineapple upside down cake in a dutch oven on this trip.  Simple for me was hobo packs.  Wrap a few ingredients up in tin foil, toss into hot coals, and eat about 45 minutes later.  These turned out pretty well.  For dessert was the classic s'mores.  Truthfully I probably have more experience cooking s'mores than any other food outside of PB&J sandwiches.  The summer I worked in Alaska I spent a lot of time intensively learning the art of s'more making and could almost say I have come close to mastering the delicacy.   

My other less exciting projects in the kitchen this week were making cookies for church and freezing some apple crisps.  My brother and sister-in-law have an apple tree in their yard so we picked some apples and then I spent what felt like hours slicing these tiny apples to make two crisps to have on hand in the freezer this fall.  The cookie recipe and the apple crisp recipe have developed into my go-to recipes for whenever I need to take a baked good or dessert to a gathering.  I found both recipes last year from a blog I follow on occasion (To give appropriate credit since these are not my recipes to Summer Harms).   I will confess I am a blog stalker-- I will read blogs about people's lives and their families that I have never met before.  Then I feel let down when all of a sudden they stop posting.  How can they do that?  I realize in the case of the blog where I found these recipes that since she is a new mom with two little kids things get chaotic but surely there is some time to write about their lives so I can read it.  Okay, maybe family should take priority to my blog stalking.  Anyway, I thought I would share these recipes since they are so good.  Omnia Vincit Amor and Bon Apetite.

As Good As It Gets Apple Crisp
 (Click the link for the recipe for a 9x13)
This recipe is great for a 1 quart dish which is just enough for Arthur and myself
2-3 apples, thinly sliced
2-3 T sugar
1 1/2 tsp lemon juice
1 T butter, cubed
1/2 tsp cinnamon

Topping:
1/4 c flour
1/4 c brown sugar
1/4 c oats
2T butter
1/8 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 tsp oil

Slice apples and pour into bottom of dish.  Sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon. Randomly place cubed butter and sprinkle with lemon juice and then mix a little in the pan.  Cut topping together in a small bowl and pour over the apples.  Bake at 350 deg for 50-60 minutes.  Eat warm with ice cream.

To freeze I will line the baking dish with foil and then a layer of plastic.  I then make the recipe as normal but instead of baking I flash freeze in the baking dish.  When I remove it from the pan I seal the plastic and the foil and then place in the freezer for a cozy, fall evening later.  

Outrageous Cookies
1 c butter
 1 c sugar
2/3 c brown sugar
 1 c creamy peanut butter
 1 tsp vanilla
 2 eggs
1 3/4 c flour
1 c quick oats
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 c chocolate chips

Cream first six ingredients.  Add the remainder of ingredients and stir.  Bake at 350 deg for 10-12 minutes.  Makes 4 dozen.  

I like to make a batch of these and then spoon them onto a cookie sheet and flash freeze them.  I then put the frozen cookie balls into a bag and can pull out a dozen to bake fresh when needed. 




 

Weekend Retreats

Everyone tells you that college is the best years of your life.  While Arthur and I both enjoyed aspects of college life I'm not sure either of us would call them the best years of our life or would want to go back and do it again.  However this weekend we were both able to reconnect with friends from our college years.  For about five years nine of Arthur's fraternity brothers have gotten together for a weekend getaway.  They have gone to various locations but these guys will travel from out of state to reconnect and have some quality "man time".  This year they rented a cabin near a lake, shared meals, played Frisbee golf, enjoyed the water, played games, and enjoyed sharing about their lives, jobs, thoughts, beliefs, etc.  Many of the men in this group stood next to Arthur at our wedding and have walked through the past decade of this life with him in some way or another.  I'm incredibly glad that my husband has men like this in his life and they make the effort to maintain those relationships.

I am also glad that this means I get a free weekend every August where I am footloose and fancy-free.  This year  I decided to invite my friends to get together for a similar event.  If the truth really comes out I have wanted to go camping-- real camping in a tent-- ever since we got back from New Hampshire.  Arthur hasn't been jumping up and down for the opportunity to sleep on the ground so I decided to talk several of my friends into going with me.  Luckily I have friends that can easily be coerced into adventure.  There were six gals in our camping party.  I mentioned in an email prior to the trip that while not everyone knew all the others   Two of the girls I have known for my entire lives, Hillary and Rachel.  They are actually cousins and we went to school and church growing up together.  Another friend was my cousin Eleanor.   (Some names are real and some are changed-- it is kind of hard to keep track of all my imaginary friends at times.)  Eleanor invited Sarah who lived in the same dorm with Hillary, Eleanor, and me.  Hillary invited Janae who actually spends quite a bit of time with Eleanor's family now.  It was interesting how everyone was connected.  Several times when mentioning other friends we would find out the two or three of the other gals knew the friend from different connections.

We headed out to Lake Kanopolis State Park after work on Friday.  Just driving in we saw several deer and turkeys.  We were the first people in our camp ground so we had the pick of the lot.  We chose the camp site at the far end of the camp ground away from the road and with a view of the lake.  First on our list was to get the fire started so we could eventually eat dinner.  Our friend with the firewood hadn't made it to our site yet so we tried to round up some firewood from other camp sites and dead drift wood.  While I was working on the fire, the other gals worked on setting up the tents and the rest of camp.  Once the fire burnt down to hot coals we were able to toss dinner in the fire-- hobo packs.  Hobo packs is ground beef, potatoes, onions, and seasoning wrapped up in aluminum foil to steam on the hot coals.  I found that I am quite found of tossing dinner in the fire and having something to eat 45 minutes later.  At this point we settled down in our chairs around the fire and proceeded to shoot the breeze.  The evening actually cooled off quite a bit for August and we found ourselves digging out sweatshirts and jackets.  Just as dark settling in our hobo pies were ready.  They were delicious.  Of course hunger is a very good sauce, the cover of darkness always help my cooking taste better, and everything is better while camping.  We built up the fire again since Rachel had arrived with a whole trunk full of firewood-- we were set.  Is there anything better in life than sitting around watching the flames of a campfire dance to and fro.  Of course camping is not camping unless there are s'mores-- lots of s'mores with marshmallows toasted to perfection and melted chocolates and sticky marshmallow that tends to end up all over my face.

We sat around the fire sharing about life and laughing late into the night-- much later than my usual bed time.  Janae and I were tent buddies.  It was going to be Janae's first time to actually camp in a tent.  We snuggled down into our sleeping bags listening to the night sounds.  Janae was so excited about tent camping that she didn't miss a moment of it and was awake most of the night. My tent is suppose to be a 3 person tent that was given to me by my boss.  My boss isn't the tallest person and his sons must have been pretty little to get three people in it.  We haven't used it before because there was no way Arthur could even lie down in it.  I found out that I couldn't lie down flat either so I had to sleep on my side with my knees bent.  The other gals stayed in Rachel's larger, more spacious tent.  Rachel was the one who came with the right gear to be comfortable-- a reclining camp chair, the tent, lots of firewood, and a water jug with a spigot which was very handy.  She also recently started camping a little bit and what a great asset to our trip.

Saturday morning we enjoyed breakfast overlooking the lake.  The wind had kicked up during the night and there were whitecaps on the water.  Later on the last two in our party, Eleanor and Sarah arrived.  They joined into a lively conversation about the personality test Arthur had me take on one of our early dates.  Some of the answers were hilarious and provided some fun insight into our friends.    Our next big activity was hiking.  We headed to the Horsethief Canyon trails.  Arthur and I hiked this trail last November on a cool, misty afternoon when everything was dead so it looked quite different in muggy August, overgrown with jungle-like.  My main concern was slithering reptiles hiding in the brush or rocks.  The group sent me out in front so I ventured on fairly cautiously.  Luckily the only reptiles we encountered were several small lizards.  We climbed up to a cave and a rocky outcropping for lunch.  Our discussing topic over lunch happened to be health insurance and health savings accounts.  Sarah works in health insurance and was providing all kinds of tips and helpful knowledge.  It is somewhat frightening how often I talk about health insurance with my friends-- this is a sure sign of adulthood.  (Later that evening we dove into IRAs and 401Ks.)  We continued on through the canyon and climbed out onto the prairie again.  I always enjoy hiking in a group because there is always some type of conversation to listen to.  (Hiking with Arthur is usually pretty quiet since he is pondering his own thoughts in his head.)

Our next adventure was a stop at Mushroom State Park.  We spent several minutes pondering how these rock formations ended up in a field in Kansas.  I'm sure some geologist has spent time studying this and the answer is available but sometimes in this Information Age I still like to ponder things myself and develop my own theories (which are probably wrong but have a bit of imagination in them (maybe I have been listening to too many Anne of Green Gables audiobooks which promote imagination as a virtue.))  (So for those who are interested here is what Wikipedia says:  these formations are hoodoos, meaning created through non-uniform erosion.  The top mushroom part is a hard variety of sandstone while the bottom stem part is a much softer sandstone that erodes more quickly.)  After all this scientific thought and pondering and hiking in the heat it was time to head back to civilization for Happy Hour at Sonic-- my cherry limeade hit the spot. 

Hillary has recently moved to the area and allowed us to continue the party at her home.  This was a great blessing later that evening when several severe storms rolled through the area.  I enjoyed camping but a comfy couch indoors during a storm is fun too.  Janae and Rachel had to leave after our hiking for other obligations.  Those remaining took showers, took naps, and had general introvert time.  We had plans of going to a movie or playing a game or any number of exciting things but we never paused long enough in our conversation to decide what to do-- why to gals have so much fun talking.  Pretty soon it was bedtime.  Since there wasn't a campfire we roasted marshmallows for s'mores over the stove burner before crawling into our sleeping bags and air mattresses.  Sarah and I bunked in the same room and probably were awake another 30 minutes laughing over memories from our old intramural conquests a Boyd Hall-- our conquests could only be described as laughable.

Sunday afternoon Arthur and I both returned home from our weekend retreats with friends.  We had a wonderful time but both fell onto the bed to take a nap.  It's exhausting having fun and we can't keep the hours that we did in college anymore.  College may be the best years of life but there is something to be said for a regular bedtime.  Omni Vincit Amor.

Bucking Broncs and Salty Dogs

How did we end up in the middle of August already?  It hardly seems like it has been summer but part of that could be how much we have been on the road during recent weekends.  Our pastor recently called Arthur.  Arthur's first thought was that they were beginning to wonder why we haven't been in church for several weeks and were calling to check in.  The pastor was actually asking Arthur to serve on a committee at church-- I guess one of the qualifications wasn't regular church attendance.  So here's the recap of our recent weekends.

The weekend after we returned from New Hampshire we headed to southwest Missouri to visit my grandmother.  We hadn't seen her for over a year and decided since it was also my great-aunt's 80th birthday it would be a good opportunity for a visit.  We picked up my brother and our niece for the trip.  This was our first personal experience with traveling with a toddler.  She was quite the trooper of a traveler.  We were all kept fairly happy with snacks and books to read in the back seat.  Arthur and my brother were also kept happy with their own snacks and discussions for the drive.  At the party there was no end to the great spread of food.  It was also good to see several other great aunts and uncles.  After the party we went to my grandma's house.  Our niece, being a two year old girl, is slightly obsessed with Frozen.  My mom had recently made her an "Elsa dress".  She put on her dress and danced around the room to the song "Let It Go" providing the evening entertainment and great-grandma was all smiles.  We spent the night at a little motel on the old Route 66.  The next morning we started for home with a few stops-- historical Fort Scott and Mass Street in Lawrence.  Arthur had never been to Lawrence and we felt bad about tainting his purity with this stop.  However, we ate at a restaurant called The Mad Greek and Arthur was eager to dive into their Sunday buffet.  After dropping our other passengers off, we motored on home.

The next week we took off in the opposite direction of the state to northwest Kansas.  The occasion for this trip was the Phillipsburg Rodeo.  In Arthur's family it is tradition to go to the rodeo.  It started with his great-grandfather taking his dad to the rodeo.  The tradition has continued through the years.  We joined Arthur's parents and his sister and brother-in-law for the outing.  We had dinner at the Chubby Pickle-- another family tradition. Next we headed out to the rodeo.  This rodeo is billed as the largest in Kansas.  The grand entrance included horses and riders spanning multiple generations of ranching families in the area. Another feature of the rodeo was a herd of 20 head of longhorns.  My favorite event was the barrel racing.  Arthur was a fan of the steer wrestling.  We had a great time at the rodeo-- it had been years since I had been to a rodeo.  I wish I understood more of the rules or how rodeo worked better.  As we have mentioned in previous post, we really enjoy watching talented people do what they do best-- athletes, dancers, musicians, and this evening it was cowboys and cowgirls as well as their horses.  After the final events of the rodeo there was an exhibition of motorcycle jumping that also involved impressive feats of athleticism.  My thought about both the rodeo events and motorcycle jumping was 1. who was the first person to say, "I think I'll jump on an angry bull just for the heck of it," or "I think I'll jump off of a horse going at top speed to grab a steer's head to wrestle it to the ground," or "What happens if I jump my motorcycle off a ledge and try to do a back flip in the air at the same time?"  and 2. how do these people practice these things when they are just beginning-- do bucking broncos come with training wheels?

In between our weekend excursions we have been training for the Salty Dog Triathlon again this summer.  It seems that most of our time recently has been training for one thing or another.  We enjoyed our triathlon so much last year we made sure we got signed up again.  It's a great event to train for all summer since you can cross train between biking, running, and swimming and since it is later in the summer we have plenty of time to train.  Friday night after work we headed to Hutchinson.  We met one of my friends and a family she knew who were also in town for the race.  Arthur's one request for the weekend was to eat at Olive Garden and it was delightful.  The family we were eating with is also hosting an exchange student from Italy.  We not quite sure what she thought of American Italian food.  Another friend's family was out of town so she offered for us to bunk at their home which we appreciated.  We decided to head to bed early since 5am and jumping into a pool were going to be an abrupt way to start the morning.  Saturday morning at this early hour it was hard to gauge if Arthur was excited to compete or was just there because his wife drags him along.

I was a little nervous since my goal was to place in my age group this year.  To give myself an advantage I somehow talked my brother into letting me borrow his road bike which is lighter and faster than my hybrid.  He made it sound as if he was going to greatly miss his bike the few days I had it but when we picked it up both tires were completely flat and he hadn't ridden it all summer.  I took it out twice before the race to practice.  It took me five miles to figure out how to shift gears.  The morning of the race I practiced getting my feet in and out of the straps on the pedal without landing on my face.

The triathlon consisted of a 400m swim, 10.5 mile bike ride, and 3.1 mile run.  It was a full race of over 200 competitors again this year.  To start the swim everyone lines up single file and one person jumps in every 10 seconds and snakes his or her way across the pool.  Swimming was my best area in training but it had been 3 weeks since I had been in a pool and I did not put forth and impressive swim performance.  Arthur on the other hand jumped in and said that he knew right away it was going to be a good race and swam almost a minute faster than his predicted time.

After swimming we jumped from the pool, ran to our bikes and put on helmets and shoes as quickly as possible.  I think the biking portion is the easiest and the most fun portion of the race.  It is also my weakest event.  It was a huge advantage to borrow my brother's road bike since I cut several minutes off of my time and actually passed a few people.  It is during the biking that those who do triathlons frequently stand out.  They fly by and everyone else just appears to be out for a leisurely spin around the neighborhood.

After completing the loop 5 times we jumped off our bikes and took off on the run.  My feet get slightly numb while biking and it is such an odd sensation to switch from legs spinning at about 80 rpm to having to push your body forward at a trot.  It felt like I was running through cement.  For me this is the worst part of the race.  I had already been competing almost an hour and still had three miles to run on legs that were a little stubborn and unresponsive.  By the end of the first mile this wore off and then I could "enjoy" the running more and lengthen my stride.

I finished the 5K in my goal time but was about a minute slower for the overall time than I wanted.  I grabbed some water and then was waiting to cheer on Arthur.  Much sooner than expected I saw Arthur rumble around the last corner with a quarter mile to go.  He looked strong, almost like he enjoys running-- I was so proud and excited.  With about 75 yards to go there is a sharp turn to the finish line and the last two years Arthur has been able to find something deep within and finish at what appears to be a dead sprint which is always a crowd-pleaser at the finish line.  We grabbed some fruit and were recovering waiting to see what our final times were and for the awards ceremony.  As it turns out, in the 25-29 age group the top female and the 2nd place male happen to have the same last name.  Their last name also happens to be Latin for "to conquer".  We felt like conquerors-- we survived with less training than last year and even improved our times by several minutes.  Omni Vincit Amor.

My Father's World

Just when everyone thought they were done reading post upon post about our hiking trip, we have one more (for now).  Each morning in the huts the crews would do a wake-up call.  One morning someone played This is My Father's World on the guitar.  It was such a fitting way to start the morning and I must admit that the song stuck in my head much of the week.  Now that I have read a little more about the history of the song it is even more fitting.  The words were written by Maltbie Babcock in 1901.  He lived in New York and would like to go on hikes up to a rock ledge with a view of the surrounding forest, farms, and villages.  The story has it that when Mr. Babcock would head off on his hike he would tell others he was going out to see his Father's world.  Omnia Vincit Amor.

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears

All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.

This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;

His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,

The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.

This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;

 In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;

He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget

That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.

This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done:

Jesus Who died shall be satisfied,

And earth and Heav’n be one.

Perspective

Boston Harbor

We rolled out of bed on Monday for breakfast before loading our packs yet again.  By this time we were tired of packing and repacking several times each day.  We waited with the gals from Brooklyn at the bus stop and they showed us how to hail a bus.  Our bus ride back to Boston was fairly uneventful and the bus was right on time since there wasn't nearly as much traffic.  We got to Boston around noon and checked our packs into storage for the day.  We then went off to discover the city and its history.  Arthur's feet were still very tender but with a few doses of ibuprofen he managed to put in a few more miles as long as I promised not to get us lost and take the routes with the least number of steps.  Our plan for the afternoon was to do the Freedom Trail, a walking tour of the historic sites in Boston.

Boston Commons

The trail snakes through Boston for about 2.5 miles, starting in Boston Common and ending at the obelisk erected on Breed's Hill (where, confusingly, the Battle of Bunker Hill was mostly fought).  It would be easy at this point to make a very long blog giving a brief description of each of the 16 stops along the Freedom Trail, which I indeed started doing in a first draft, until I realized how impersonal it was coming across and that good descriptions are already available on the internet.

Lantern outside of North Church

Statue of Paul Revere

Instead let me focus on the sensation of standing in a place where something of national significance occurred, such as the Boston Massacre, the Battle of Bunker Hill, or where William Lloyd Garrison gave his first antislavery speech.  We are all temporally removed from these events, yet by closing the gap spatially, I was awed by how real those events yet seemed to be; the anger and hostility present outside a town hall just before somebody says or does the thing that triggers shots being fired, the fear present in young men watching as the best-trained army in the world marches toward them, the sound of a powerful speaker evoking feelings of conviction of men standing next to other men in whom those same words produce animus.  These moments from so long ago helped form the world I move in every day; they color my beliefs and aspirations, they inform the structure of government under which I live.

Similarly, there are the men whose efforts drove these events, ideas, and motivations.  These men the history books revere are buried here, they walked these streets and rubbed elbows with other flesh and blood beings.  One of the hardest things to think about is how these men would think.  Out thoughts and feelings are forged by a world far different from those living 200 years ago, albeit one they helped create. How did they think in their world?  Would we feel the same way looking through their eyes? There are a lot of people deriving a lot of authority for their arguments based on their belief that they can answer these questions; several of whom I really don't think have put in the necessary work to speak with the certainty they do.  I don't know if I came away with a more informed outlook on these questions walking along the trail; all I can say for sure is the question became something tangible and present instead of an airy theoretical idea.

Well, speaking of airy and theoretical, lets see if we can't leave our readers some tangible thoughts to take away from the Freedom Trail.  I have written before about my love of fine craftsmanship before; Paul Revere's house had some wonderful artifacts of period silversmithing and the USS Constitution Museum (for the ship, not the paper) gave wonderful accounts of how colonial naval ships were made. The aforementioned museum was among the highlights of the trail; a real must see for any history buff.  Even the buildings, erected without the benefit of power tools or heavy machinery, were wonders to behold.  Alex enjoyed this aspect especially, including people's use of window boxes for gardening.  Among the historical sites, the location of the Boston Massacre moved me most, and I can't justify why.  There is a marker on the ground, but no monument is erected; perhaps the lack of ornamentation allowed me to focus on the event instead of the memorialization of it, I'm not sure.

Site of Boston Massacre

USS Constitution -"Old Ironsides"

More could be written, but alas, that is always the case.  After the Freedom Trail, we dined at a wonderful little Italian place whose zuppa di pesce napoletana is a meal who, several weeks removed, I still find myself thinking back to with fondness.  We made our way back to South Station via the Greenway, a series of parks that form a beautiful path through the heart of the city.  Being in and navigating a strange city after a week in the wilderness was a little different at first so we were excited to see the Greenway- it led right to the Station so no navigating needed and there was "citified nature".  It had also been a very warm day and people were just getting off of work so there was quite a few people hanging out throughout the Greenway.  At this point, we were exhausted, so we headed for the subway and were fortunate to have the hotel van right there ready to pick us up.  It had been a glorious day.

On our flight home the sky was clear so I spent a lot of time looking out the window.  I never seem to get tired of staring at the landscape below from a plane.  At 30,000 feet dimension is lost so everything looks so smooth and flat.  The ground horizon blends and disappears with the sky.  Rivers snake through the land without rhyme or reason, flowing where they want.  Country roads and mile sections are laid our like a grid work with the occasional clover-leaf interstate exchange ramps.  Small towns and large cities made up just a small area of the landscape compare to the land in fields and pastures.  While the Midwest may be termed "Fly Over States" I think it is some of the most interesting terrain to fly over.  Endless forest, deserts, and oceans get monotonous out a plane window.  During this flight I thought about seeing the world around us through different perspectives.  This trip was full of different perspectives-- looking down on rural America from 30,000 ft at hundreds of miles per hour, watching trees and landscape whir by at 50 mph from a bus window, walking at a few miles per hour paying attention to each rock and tree root, appreciating the distances covered looking back across ridging line, looking at summits looming ahead and wondering what adventure lies on the upcoming trail, wandering through a maze of rock piles in thick fogs and clouds, a bird's eye view from a vista or summit at mountains beyond mountains, meandering through city streets thinking of the history that has played out on these bricks and cobblestones, and watching the sea of humanity bustling about at airports and on the subway.  This reminded me of one of my favorite travel quotes by Saint Augustine:  "The world is a book and those who don't travel only read one page."  Arthur and I love to travel and take adventures, experience new things, and meet people from around the world.  We turned several pages in our book with this trip and enjoyed seeing from different perspectives.  I must be honest though, after everything we saw and experienced, driving across the Flint Hills of Kansas on the interstate still exhibited a unique beauty. Yes it's very different than the White Mountain peaks' splendor, but still beautiful.  It's good to be home.  Omnia Vincit Amor.

The Finish Line

Sunday morning we slept in until wake up call and went to breakfast in our hut clothes, which is equivalent to real-life pajamas.  After breakfast we had our graduation ceremony.  Our group leader John knighted everyone with a soup ladle for completing the Presidential Range Traverse.  We even got official hiking patches.  It was confirmed we are the only two Kansans to be bestowed with such an honor.  Arthur also received what could be considered an Oscar for his portrayal of Dr. Waterknee  from skit night.  After graduation a group of us got together to summit our last peak, Mt Madison, before returning to the low lands.  Arthur played it smart and stayed back at the hut since his feet and blisters only had a limited number of steps left in them and he had to hike down.  It had cleared up so from the summit we were able to look back across the ridge that we cross the day before.  It was impressive to actually "see" we were had been and how far we hike.

Celebrating our last summit

Looking from Mt Madison down on the Hut

Within minutes of returning to the hut a rain shower blew in over the ridge so we hung out a little more since we weren't in a rush to be in the rain.  It was about 3.5 miles down the the trail head where the bus would pick us up.  For me with good feet, the hike down was relatively enjoyable.  We were back in the forest and even my knees weren't bulking at the idea of descending.  We met a family that was headed up to Madison Hut for a family reunion.  About a half of a mile from the trail head there was a waterfall and pool where some of us took a quick dip in.  Even though the water felt frigid it was very refreshing and nice to get some of the dirt of in a pre-wash before the shower I was so looking forward to later in the afternoon.
Arthur survived and climbed on the bus.  We had a 30 minute bus ride back to Pinkham Notch.  It was an odd sensation to be sitting down with the world whirring by at 50 mph.  Back at Pinkham Notch we unloaded our packs and started saying good bye to everyone.  As good Midwesterners we tried to shake hands but apparently that doesn't fly in the northeast.  The minimal accepted gesture was a hug (who wants to hug anyone as dirty and smell as we all were?).  It seemed that kisses on the cheek were preferred.  For anyone who knows how I feel about personal touch this wasn't awkward whatsoever.  It was about 30 minutes before we could check in to the lodge for the night so the two teachers from Brooklyn who were also staying the night to catch the bus the next day and us had a picnic eating all the leftover snacks we had including several bags of potato sticks.  After we checked in we showered and cleaned up (this included Arthur shaving) we worked on hanging all of our wet gear up to dry.  Let's just say that our wet boots and clothes stunk up the room pretty quickly.  We then settled in for a long nap in a luxurious queen bed.  Several thunderstorms rolled in that afternoon and evening and we were glad we were cozy in the lodge and not on the mountain ridge.  Dinner was delicious but we were slowly coming to the realization that we couldn't inhale everything edible that we saw as we had to when hiking.  We all decided to begin monitoring portion control the next day.  That evening we spent some time reading in the living room in two chairs near the fire place and went to be early again to enjoy sleeping in a room without others snoring.

Cairns leading the way to the summit

Going into the hike we weren't quite sure what to expect.  We had no experience with backpacking and didn't get to do any elevation training outside of running up and down bleachers at the football field.  I think we might have gotten bit by the backpacking bug.  True, this wasn't all-out backpacking with camping and cooking our own food but it was a good way to test the waters.  I'm pretty sure we will take the full plunge sometime in the future but we are slightly limited by geography.  There was something very unique about experiencing the outdoors in such a personal way as well as the beauty and solitude.  We found this trip relaxing and invigorating--exactly what a vacation should be.  Overall we were amazed by how rocky and rough the trail was.  However with most of our hiking experience being in Colorado it was wonderful to hike and breathe at the same time; we never had to stop to catch our breath.  We really enjoyed being around a group of people who are passionate about being outdoors.  One thing we noticed was that everyone had a great attitude throughout the entire hike.  No one ever complained and most were smiling even during the rough parts.  It was interesting to also see how a group of 25 strangers became so close so quickly-- of course sharing the same bunk rooms and stench of smelly shoes was probably a bonding experience.  We talked about how only 2 out of 100 people polled on the street would think this vacation was any fun-- or even call it a vacation.  A backpacking trip isn't for everyone.  We also notice that we were the only couple on the trip.  Most of the participants are happily married but their spouses stayed at home (which means they will still probably be happily married when they get home.)  Many said that hiking was something their spouse will occasionally do with them but not for a week.  Arthur and I are blessed that for the most part (unless it involves running) we enjoy taking adventures together.  In fact, Arthur comments that when we first met and started dating he thought, "This is a girl I could take to climb mountains." And so that's what we do.  Omnia Vincit Amor.

The Slog

The Presidential Range, and specifically Mt. Washington, is known for having "the world's worst weather".  How this is determined, I'm not sure.  Mount Washington is the location of the largest recorded wind gust in the country, and until about 5 years for the world, at 231mph on the summit.  Several storm paths meet at the peak and the jet stream goes directly over the top.  Hurricane force winds are measured on the summit an average of 110 days each year.  The wind, mixed with very cold temperatures and large amounts of precipitation make the weather very erratic.  This has led to 150 hiker/climber deaths throughout the history of the mountain (The Lake of the Clouds hut was actually built after two people died climbing the mountain and couldn't reach shelter).  The Mount Washington Observatory is based on the mountain and meteorologist and researchers live here throughout the year.  In one of the huts I found a book about what daily life is like for those who work at the observatory-- snowcat rides up the mountain for the weekly shift, having to brave extreme cold and winds of up to 100mph to keep the ice off of the equipment, and providing search and rescue for stranded hikers.  Weather is a big deal up here.

This leads us to the title of this particular post.  Webster defines slog as the following:

 to keep doing something even though it is difficult or boring; to work at something in a steady, determined way; to walk slowly usually with heavy steps

The Lake of the Clouds

For two or three days leading up to Saturday's hike, we warned it was going to be "a slog".  And it was.  With that being said, we woke up Saturday morning and understood how Lakes of the Clouds hut got its name-- the beautiful view from the day before was completely obscured in white.  During the morning weather report everyone was on the edge of the bench to see how their plans for the day would be tossed about by Mother Nature.  The forecast was for clouds, rain all day, winds of 40-50mph, and thunderstorms throughout the day, especially in the afternoon.  It was determined that we would continue on to the next hut across the 7 miles of exposed ridge to our destination for the evening.  We would travel in two larger groups so each group could have two leaders and we wouldn't summit any of the peaks.  It ended up that the Boy Scout troop that was traveling the same hut-to-hut hike with us all week decided to drop out and go down to the valley.  We always knew our group would out-tough the Boy Scouts.  We got our gear ready to go-- pack covers on, plenty of water, snacks accessible in our pockets so we didn't have to stop, rain jackets and rain pants as well as moisture barriers for our shoes.  We struck out prepared for a miserable and grueling hike.
The day before visibility across the ridge was 100 miles, now it was a mere 50 feet.  We also had the challenge of wet rocks-- with each step there was a large chance that you would end up on your backside-- and we did several times.  Other challenges included following the trail.  Above tree line trails are marked with cairns, large stacks of rocks, along the trail about every 30-50 feet.  With low visibility you just look for the next cairn ahead to keep from veering off into the misty wilderness.

 Our group had about 10 people and as a hiker in the middle of the pack there were several times I couldn't see the leader or our sweep (the person that makes sure no one is left behind).  We had to yell to the group to stop if we lost sight of the hikers directly in front of behind us.  Truthfully it is hard to report anything specific about the hike.  For 6 hours our surroundings were the same-- a limitless view of piles and piles of rock disappearing into the clouds.  At one point we smelled smoke, which seems odd when walking through a cloud, and a few minutes later the cog railroad up Mount Washington came into view.  Rarely do  I smell something before seeing it.  I wonder if that's what being a dog is like.  The nice thing about the low visibility was that bio breaks were easier above ridge line.  With no trees to provide some privacy just stepping off into the clouds was fairly handy.  For the first two hours we had quite a bit of wind since we were on the exposed west side of the range.  I could understand how hypothermia can be a problem even if the temperature is 40-50F.  Anytime we stopped for more than a few minutes the wind and moisture noticeably cooled our bodies so we didn't stop much but kept moving.  Once we crossed over to the opposite side of the ridge out of the wind the conditions were a little better.  Later in the hike the rocks had dried some and weren't as dangerous.  We even took off rain gear since it does create a sauna-- it doesn't let moisture in and doesn't let moisture out.

At this point in the hike Arthur began to experience what he refers to as "the Tribulation"  Over the previous two days Arthur had developed blisters on his feet-- both heels, instep, big toe, and both pinky toes.  After grueling miles on slick rocks was pretty miserable, just trying to put one foot in front of the next was agony.  Not even speaking for Arthur, this was the one day of the hike when I thought, "Well, the first 3 hours of mist and rocks wasn't too bad, but this has stopped being enjoyable and I would not be disappointed at all if the hut, a warm bowl of soup, and a mug of hot cocoa appeared out of the mist right now."  The only things we saw was more rocks to carefully maneuver across.  In all actuality the weather on this hike could have been so much worse-- it could have rained, (it never did we were just wet from the mist), it could have sleeted, the wind could have been stronger, and we could have had storms; so it was a relatively "nice" day for the Presidential Range.  The upside to the less than desirable weather was we only saw about 10 other people out on the trails-- on a nice day it would have been a zoo.  Finally, at about 2pm we descended over a rocky ledge and Madison Hut appeared out of the mist and our "slog" was over.  We grabbed bunks, changed clothes, hung up things to dry, and settled down for our bowl of potato dill soup and bread.  The rest of the afternoon we lounged around playing bananagrams, reading, and napping.  Our second group rolled into the hut about 4:30pm.

The leaders had told us all week to look forward to Madison since it was the nicest hut.  Madison is the oldest hut in the system but has been renovated, expanded, and rebuilt after fires.  The bunkrooms were remodeled a few years ago and were pretty nice.  The dinning area had large windows with a view of the surrounding peaks.  Dinner was a southern feast-- chili, corn bread, pulled pork, green beans, and homemade donuts for dessert.  The rest of the evening we played our groups' favorite games-- Bananagrams and Apples to Apples.  We even stayed up late, until 9pm, since we didn't have to hit the trail early the next day.

On Top of the World

Mountain beyond mountains

Friday was the hike we had all been waiting for-- crossing the Presidential Ridge and hopefully summiting Mount Washington if the weather held.  Today's hike and Saturday's hike across the Presidential Traverse is #3 on a list for most intense day hikes (Doing the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim is #5 on the same list.)  At least we were spreading it out over two wonderful days of hiking.  There was a chance of thunderstorms that afternoon but the sun was out as we started the hike that morning.  We took off with the aggressive group of three other hikers who we hiked with regularly now. We had a steep ascent of just over half a mile to the first peak, Mt. Pierce.  It gave us our first view of the Presidential Ridge and what was in store for us that morning hiking-- clear blue sky, peaks stretching out before us. Our thoughts, "This is going to be good." (Reader beware: there are a lot of pictures in this post since every thing was gorgeous on this hike.) 

Summit of Eisenhower

The next peak we worked our way up to was Mount Eisenhower.  This peak was special for us since we have the connect of Eisenhower being a Kansas boy.  On top of Eisenhower there is a large cairn several feet high and tradition is to toss another rock on the pile when you summit.  There is still no shortage of rocks even with so many in this pile.  We pressed on through a flatter, plain area which provided several 360 degree views.  Visibility was about 100 miles that morning and it seemed like the mountains lay out before us forever in every direction.  We took a side trip to the top of Mt. Franklin.  We continued to press on to South Monroe and Monroe.  Some of the climbs to the actual peaks were a little more difficult but overall the trail was fairly enjoyable.  Since it was such a nice day there were quite a few people out on the trail.  We also ran into a few trail runners up on the ridge.  Neither of us ever had the urge to run on these rocks.  It was all we could do not to fall.  Since we were above treeline we could track the progress of the groups hiking behind us as they made their way up and down the peaks.  From the top of Monroe we could see Lake of the Clouds and the hut in the distance.  We trekked the last bit to the hut and then were able to grab prime bunks since we checked in at about 11 in the morning.  The next group was right behind us so we ate some lunch before we made a combined ascent of Mount Washington.  

Climbing the "Rock Pile"

All week Mount Washington had been a question mark on the schedule since if the weather is just a bit iffy then it's not safe to climb.  Of course Mount Washington is the crown jewel of the Presidentials and the highest peak in New England so every one wanted to make it to the top.  We left most of our gear at Lake of the Clouds and were able to travel much lighter.  Of course I had the pleasure of not even carrying a pack since my husband is part pack mule and carried my rain gear and snacks for me.  The closer we got to the mountain, the more trail traffic there was.  Mount Washington is known as the Rock Pile and it became obvious how it earned this name.

Our group made the final charge to the summit and then stood in line to have our picture taken at the marker.  Most mountains don't have a line for summit shots but hikers are actually only a small percentage of the people on the peak.  Some drive vehicles up the Auto Road or take the Cog Railway up.  It was slightly strange to suddenly step out of the wilderness into a tourist attraction.  The upside to the peak being a tourist hot spot is that there is snack food beyond several day old cheese sticks.  Arthur indulged in a slice of pizza and I had a delicious ice cream bar.  Besides the snack bar which was of chief importance to our group, the summit is home to the Mount Washington Observatory to study the weather.  There was a museum about the crazy weather on the mountain which we wondered through.  There is also an old hotel from the 1800s that housed the earlier tourists on the Cog Railway or hikers.  I can't imagine climbing and hiking in full skirts or suits but that's what everyone is wearing in the pictures.  After taking in the views our group then headed the mile or so back to Lake of the Clouds.  If I recall correctly, Arthur had developed some minor blisters over the previous days but it was on the decent from Mount Washington that they became much more noticeable.
Lake of the Clouds is the largest hut and sleeps over 90 people.  It also has one of the most picturesque dinning rooms looking over the mountain range.  After dinner we played games or read for quite a while and stayed up a little later than normally we had been on the hike since we were energized by the great hike.

Omnia Vincit Amor.