Long, fairly easy to follow trail but steep at times
Very few other hikers
Large, no trees
Rocks etc to help secure mast
Recommend: Yes but travel light
Solo operation: All alone
Cell Coverage: Good cell coverage
Photos: Copyright Paul Gacek 2024
Spains Atlantic coast
Out of the corner of my eye I’ve watched his movie. It didn’t really matter that I couldn’t hear anything as it was in Spanish, set during the Spanish Civil War and actually looked quite good. Boredom had me restless and I rifled through the Iberian in flight magazine that like so many has airport maps, pictures of unbelievable cuisine and something that absolutely caught my eye. Asturias; mountains, coast line, royal palaces and of course cuisine. I’m sold.
Interrupted by Covid and years later, I find myself driving toward what I thought would be a great first Spanish peak. The barrier was unmistakable and the bright neon lights declaring no entry without reservation was not what I wanted to see this early AM.
“Do you speak English?”, “Yes” she replies telling me that twenty minutes earlier, I could have driven in but now and without any reservation I’m out of luck. Come back tomorrow but that isn’t really my plan as I have this not so carefully planned trip to climb peaks, see Vitoria’s (1813) geography and then enjoy Bilbao and aspects of the Basque Country.
The idea of speeding is silly and really isn’t an option. The mountain roads are very narrow, climb relentless and wind and wind around a geologic marvel that is the Picos de Europa National Park. It’s July and while not a big destination for foreigners, it’s super popular with Spanish and I’m convinced my late arrival will yield no parking spot and all in all I’m skunked.
The downside to parking in Sotres is the 500 ft decent to then start a 2,200ft ascent but I have a space and walk down the paved road trying hard to determine which peak is mine.
Just outside Stores and heading down and down and down
Rustic buildings
Steep ascent, pack is far too heavy and shoes were a poor choice….but it’s worth it all
6,000ft on the peak and the views are stunning
A very fancy peak marker
45 contacts later and I’m smiling away….857D and big battery were overkill
Mainly 20m voice contacts across Europe and a few local on 40m
Above the clouds and always mindful that the weather was forecast to possibly rain
Long journey from Sotres to peak ad back
The car pulls up next to me and the window winds down. “Sorry, I don’t speak Spanish” is my reply to her. “Would you like a ride?”. Thinking wasn’t required and I blurted out “yes!!”. Pilling in the back they inquire where I have been. The story of mountain top radio needs a little explanation. The three young hikers were very curious about my peak and I surmised my paltry 8 miles and almost 3,000ft was just a warm up for them. Nevertheless, this Basque Country trio are charming and pretty much take me right to my car. Absolutely a Godsend as I was knackered.
Thirty euros buys me all I can eat at the hotel for dinner and then I discover it includes all you can drink….wine, beer….
Perfect place to hang out, read, drink and admire the view from the hotel patio
My hotel
View from hotel of Picos de Europa
Like most Brits, I love Spain, I really do. The south is a big attraction with its warm weather, beaches and sometimes Fish and Chips. In stark contrast, the Atlantic Coast of Spain is green, wet and a place less trodden. It’s been a desire of mine to hike/drive west along the Pyrenees and then along the Atlantic coast to that little know Napoleonic debacle that was the evacuation via Corunna (1809). Another day, sooner than later.
Maybe like many kids, the endless pressure to achieve a scholastic level as measured by an exam put me off of any more “exams” and by loose association awards. I don’t want to be measured anymore.
However, what I did enjoy as a kid was hearing voices from far away places sharing far aware news that in truth was somewhat lost on me, I just wanted the confirmation card.
The most exciting were always from somewhere exotic sounding to this teenager; maybe India, maybe Australia or even Canada sprinkled amongst all the east European cultural “happy” cards I would also receive.
If I’m chasing an award surely it must be the ARRL DXCC that is the mark of true afficiando that has confirmation of contacts with a minimum of a 100 countries. True that was fun but WAS seemed to capture my imagination in a different way.
Maybe it’s because I’m an “ersatz” American bearing a passport but growing up a million miles away. Lost in the history of the USA is actually quite enlightening and enriching. Lost in old National Geographic’s that paint a picture of colored canyons in Utah, yachts tied up in slips at the end of a yards in Florida or yet another story of Mount Vernon. It all tells the fabric of my adopted country, a place that I have a deep respect and admiration for.
Celebrating becoming “ersatz”
WAS is an award offered by the US’s amateur radio league (ARRL) for anyone global that makes contact with an amateur in each and every US state, hence Worked All States. Sounds pretty simple and at some level it is. Where you can make it all the more interesting is to slice the WAS and achieve it for as specific communication method such as voice or morse code or harder still for a specific band such as 20m, 40m, 10m etc.
Location play a part as slicing it one way (say 40m) might be much easier from the middle of the country with a smaller distribution of distances to each and every state. Think about it, Nebraska, a fine place to live is roughly no more than 1,200 miles to any of the lower 48 unlike Maine, an equally wonderful place to live is various distances up to 2,500 miles to each and every lower 48. WAS on 40m might be much harder in Maine than Nebraska.
WAS so far….
Like many things in life starting something is easy and finishing it somewhat harder, think 80/20 rule.
I’ve been nibbling away at 15m and 10m WAS for a while. Contests don’t seem to have closed the final mile and I’m passionately trying to gain 3 more states on 10m phone and a similar number on 15m phone.
Truth is I would have been fine with phone WAS on multiple bands but now I’ve made some progress on CW and especially CW WAS, a whole new goal of per band triple crown awaits that is WAS phone, morse and digital. Drats, I’ve moved the goal posts…..
My WAS progress with 50 mile circle touching Laguna Beach
Counting sunspots…..Cycle 25
Whether your iconic 1700s event is the Battle of Culloden (1746, think Outlander), the French Indian Wars (1756-1763), the American Revolution (1765-1783) or Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations, some “enlightened” astronomers started counting sunspots and over time determined a cycle of 11 years between maximum count with a big dip in-between.
The more recent science of radio in the 1900s lead to a realization that our ability to communicate on different bands is correlated to where the sun, our sun is in it’s 11 year cycle.
Nearing the current cycles maxima, we get to enjoy easier, almost global communication on bands such as 10m and 15m that are hitherto unheard of 5 years either side of the maxima.
Here we are at the peak of cycle 25 and it’s time to close those WAS goals on 10m, 15m and possible others between and around.
Humans have counted sunspots for since the mid 1750s
WAS and SOTA, a new goal made in heaven?
I’ve wandered the world of SOTA for almost 8 years. Goals change, radios change, antennas change, as do I. The enthusiasm for racing up the same local peaks year in a year out has waned and maybe best deferred. New peaks can be fun and my 8 year journey has taken me to 280 different peaks (no repeats) across the western USA and parts of Europe.
WAS requires all contacts for a single award to be made within a 50 mile radius of each other and with that I lassoed about 60 peaks not far from home. Most never visited as most are small “urban” peaks offering measly single or two points compared to “giants” in the San Gabriels and San Bernardinos offering eight points.
Now I have a new goal to further my WAS and grow my leg muscles…activate as many of the 60 (less what I have done or are off limits, think USMC base) as soon as possible
~60 SOTA peaks in my WAS circle touching Laguna Beach, CA
He’s probably right but it’s late May and I’m here driving north.
I’m on the clock as the weather has turned, yesterday’s horizon to horizon blue skies are gone. The drive north along windy mountain roads clinging to the sides of the fjords, along valleys and then into the bowls of ferries are all breathtaking. I love this place
Green track marks my modest ~3 mile round trip, 1,000ft ascentJust one of seemingly endless incredible views while driving north through the Central FjordsBattery powered ferries whisk people across countless fjordsDrive on, wait a while and then drive off
Winding my way toward the trail head has me feeling reasonably optimistic as the clouds loom but no rain yet.
Marching up the trail and through a tatty looking wood has me wondering if I’m actually on the correct trail. No steep ascent, no hill, no fjord and no North Atlantic suggest I might have done this wrong. It’s late in the day and my window to activate is reasonably short.
Looking east and toward the head of the fjord, Atlantic hidden to my right
I finally break out of the woods and watch the skies. Luck is running out and a crazy wind is rushing off the North Atlantic dumping cloud mist and ever larger rain drops on me.
I stop to put my rain pants on, adjust my rain slick and try and orient my “duck bill” to keep this unwanted moister off of my glasses.
The “voices” have started! I’m muttering to myself that if it gets any worst, I’m retreating back to the car. I persist, the rain abates, restarts and I mutter away again that if it gets worst, I’m doubling back. I don’t really want to give up and eventually the rain stops as I find myself at the peak.
Fastest deployment ever on the leeward side of the peak
The wind howls and I scream into the mic. One, two, three and then it’s in the bag. Thoughts of staying longer are quickly dispatched as the crazy wind driven rain reappears with a vengeance. As I pack up, I realize the wind was so violent that it snapped one of the final segments of the carbon fiber mast.
Rain, cold and wind amount to nothing with views like thisThe peak and North Atlantic to the rightOnce further down the weather clears again 20m contacts into UK and Central Europe Not the International House of Pancakes we have in the USDinner at the Mermaid Seafood restaurantRequired a bank loan but very tasty
In the arcane and niche world that is the intersection of peak bagging and ham radio, aka SOTA, the participants fall into two broad groups; activators and chasers.
Happening daily across the planet, activators, especially the apasionada, ferret radios to wild and distant peaks, setting up a temporary radio station and then hoping that the co-dependent chaser community hear, respond and make the trek worthwhile. All things being equal smiles abound.
Within this rarefied world is another notable accolade where activators assume a dual role of activator and chaser. The chance to communicate from one peak to another is special in that two apasionadas get to experience what their weak and faint signal must sound like to chasers but unlike most chasers get to do it in a “electrical” noise free environment. Often a faint and perfectly audible voice from a distant location plays in the headphones. This contact unsurprisingly is know as a Summit to Summit (S2S).
Some in our community are legendary in the pursuit of S2S contacts such as Colorado based Cary (KX0R) and Dave (N6AN) here in SoCal.
Sadly, I’m not one of these legends nor anywhere close.
As with many activators, my initial goal was to attain the coveted Mountain Goat award which in true Western style I achieved in a respectable two year window having shlepped my gear up 100+ mountains. The equivalent chaser award, Shack Sloth took me over seven years to achieve through only S2S contacts, no comfy chair for me!
Truth is I’m never quite as aware as I could be about other activators concurrent efforts and pretty much all my S2S contacts have been others calling me.
Seven years in the making, a new Shack Sloth above Bergen, Norway
I love to mix up my hobbies and pondered the practicality of applying technology to my deficiency.
I kicked the tires on an idea, in hindsight possibly overkill of creating a small PC centric solution for the 2023 G/LD event that Mark M0NOM organized. Reasonable progress was made but I became distracted and then further distracted with a return to the UK.
Real time display of activators and ability to click and work them….early prototype
My morse code dabbling has spurred a re-interest in past projects primarily to complete and/or use some of what I’ve done in the past.
Green for go!!
Peaks can be cold, dusty, beautiful and throughly inhospitable. Two problems exist that limit my S2S enjoyment; awareness and too much fiddling to get on frequency.
Improving awareness could be as simple of an LED lighting up or possibly a bank of LEDs conveying opportunities immediate and those slowly drifting into history. A green LED could indicate a new and current S2S opportunity, yellow some or one that are aging out dictating prompt action and red for opportunities that are most likely missed.
Green for new S2S, yellow for hurry up and red for all gone, you missed it!!
Less fiddling might be a winner
On a busy Saturday, details of activators scroll by on our notification web site in a random and jarring way. I’m reading one, checking the time, frequency and suddenly the line is displaced down one or two or more slots. Lost, I attempt to regain acuity and give up in my transliteration from web to frequency readout on my radio. Another S2S is missed.
Tailored for my iPhone screen, a list of current activations is displayed with a color coding to denote age matching the LEDs. Sorting them narrows to band (maybe 10m for the current 2024 challenge), geography, calls, mode etc.
Click on any activator line gets you one step closer to QSY-ing
Press QSY button and KX2/KX3/K2 is automatically tuned to Mitja’s frequency
Quickest way from A to B
Once upon a time people paid me to write software.
During the dawn of computing we used a gamut of languages from labor intensive assembler to one of a multiple of block structured languages and even the grand daddy of “object oriented” in the form of Simula 67. As someone, that was ejected into the ranks of shepherding software engineers, I often lamented at how long software development remained in what appeared an efficiency neolithic age. ChatGPT has dispelled that notion but along the way graphical almost cartoon like systems have surfaced.
Node-Red dev environment – this is possibly 1/3 to 1/2 of code to implement this prototype
As a quick and efficient way to develop a working system, Node Red is actually quite easy to master and satisfying in the immediacy of usable software. Maybe not appropriate for large scale mission critical system, it never the less has a real and valid place.
Zeros at 7 o’clock
Raspberry Pis come in many shapes and forms but alas have been far too hard to find for far too long. Rummaging through my “junk box” yielded a Pi Zero W, forgotten and feeling inferior to the newer and unobtainable Zero 2 W, its pressed into serviced simply based on its size and ability to sit neatly on my newly established “flight deck” aka a clip board.
The Pi OS comes in two or three flavors one known as “headless” but unlike a Zombie can be counted on to do useful things. Installed along with Node-Red on my forgotten Pi Zero W and it’s single USB serving as a conduit to the CAT interface on my KX2, I’m off to the races.
Diminutive Raspberry Pi Zero with LED breadboard behind
In addition to QSY-ing to a frequency, pressing CALL with send W6PNG in morse or S2S an declaration of opportunity.
LED Duration
On that same busy Saturday, it’s plausible that the Green, Yellow and Red LEDs are on all the time somewhat negating their value. I need to experiment with durations which could vary depending on time of week or an event. For example, maybe on a busy day green is only for displayed ….
Predicated on cell service
Cellular service is seemingly everywhere even in remote parts of the Western USA especially atop a peak. However, a peak’s height and hence reception of/by multiple towers can confuse things such that we often end up with no cellular service. Go figure.
An original “silent movie”……
I’ve learnt that sometimes it’s worthwhile to pause, try something and then consider refinement and next steps. There’s lot of things I could do beyond determining if the current prototype is usable and useful.
Certainly this work/project has been a great complement to hiking in that it’s a brain work out.
Any comments, thoughts, suggestion or ideas how to evolve this little project are always welcome.
Easy to work with parts are going out of production in deference to tiny, minuscule equivalents that are a machine’s dream.
Many wax and wane about the glory days of Heathkit, that American landmark that defined a small corner of 1960s American history. The mantle is passed, grabbed or offered and Elecraft catches it and define their own place in kit history. Better than Heathkit, similar build detail but simply a better performer.
Truth is, a high percentage of electronic kits end in tears. Good intent isn’t sufficient to win the day.
Somewhat like driving on a windy mountain road, success is a function of paying attention and staying between the white lines and so build details are a key success determinant.
I hadn’t really intended to go to this party as I’ve never really been a “morser”.
I did attend a different Elecraft party, by buying and building a K2 replete with a family of add-on modules. Hard work but the results still hold their own 20 years on and a life time of new technology to out do the little K2.
My K2 kit plus antenna tuner….
Last orders have been and gone. Kicking myself but now “happily” paying over the odds to someone that was quicker off the mark than me and I now have a K1 kit with a small family of add ons.
eBay purchase long after Elecraft called “last orders”
Remember Covid? Who doesn’t!!
Stuck at home and wondering what has happened to my travel centric life, I turn inward, pull out my K1 kit, power up the soldering iron and relax into a final journey. Screw this build up and no replacement is in sight.
Analog radios are essentially math machines. All those capacitors, inductors, transistors etc are simply crunching on RF signals, pulling out, suppress some, amplifying others to the point that something “intelligible” pops out a speaker or headphone. Analog radio designs are old dating back into the 1920s and 1930s. Different designs and approaches have been pioneered and some stood the test of time.
Eric and Wayne love one of those design approaches, termed “superheterodyne”. It’s in the K2, the K1 I’m about to tackle, the K3 and even the very recent KH-1. It’s a fine approach defined by copious parts count and great performance. The value of the designer is to align all the resistiors, capacitors, transistors, etc into something that is optimized for size, cost and performance. Think tubes of paint and imagine a painting by a five year old versus that by Cezzane. Both start with the same raw material but the end results are markedly different.
Buttons, I love buttons. I’ve long thought about this passion for buttons and knobs and irrefutably tie it to far too many visits to the Science Museum in Kensington, London as a “wee knipper” during the go-go 60s.
Buttons, indicators and even an unfilled hole for a huge “turny thing”
More buttons, small “turny things” and a very old school “Nokia flip phone” style LCD
Just add knobs!
Rear view of front panel with a whoppingly large old school chip
Eric and Wayne don’t just love super-heterodyne designs but modular super-hets. Filters are an essential part of any radio both to improve its performance but also to meet FCC requirements to be a good HF citizen and not create unnecessary interference.
As amateur we have access to many bands, shortwave and beyond. The K1 design separates bands into “insertable” filter boards that support 2 or 4 of a limited subset of shortwave bands. It’s a build time decision and my eBay special came with a 2 band filter board that I opt to build for 80m (a night time band) and 40m (a jack of all trades band).
2 band filter board built for 80m and 40m
Building the main board….
?????
Winding inductors….
Possibly overkill but a wonderful peace of mind and potential time saver, I methodically test every and I mean every component before I solder it in. Resistors are checked that the value matches what is demanded, transistors are verified as handling might have zapped a part of it, joints are verified for connectivity and yes, I’ve found dud parts, I’ve found wonky joints and feel all the better for this obsessive attention to detail. Time is never abundant but this journey should be savored and made all the sweeter by a “safe” arrival.
Bare bones K1
Weeks turn to months and months into years. Under appreciated and under complete, a shoe box emerges with an almost complete ATU. Distracted and pulled away onto house projects, consigned the almost ATU to an ignominious plastic home.
Wire wrapping Dunkin’ Donut like miniature rings, installing a few more components and magically I’m done. Three years in the making and the sense of completing an incomplete project is an additional reward.
An unexpected QA member verifies what I have built, listens for tell tale relays clicking as a match is sort and a wink and a thumbs up convey this build journey hasn’t ended in tears.
Well done me!
Ted, Director of Quality Assurance inspects the “finished” ATU board
ATU installed above the 80/40 filter board
Time well spent and a very enjoyable build.
It’s a wonderful little rig but technology has marched on and the KX2 in most all respects remains my “go to” radio for SOTA.
However, it’s a keeper and to borrow a line from Charlton Heston….“from my cold dead hands….”
Old Jeep trail and then a lot of bushwhacking past a false peak to Blind Spring
Pile of rocks, slabs to sit on and places to jam a fiber glass mast into
Recommend: Absolutely
Solo operation: With Rico M
Cell Coverage: Good cell coverage
Photos: Copyright Paul Gacek 2024
It’s not often that I think of deer and even less often deer in headlights, however at this point empathy abounds and I’m feeling rather uncomfortable.
Lots of sounds, dits and dahs akin to a barrage of shells. Unlike shells these are wanted and everyone seems to have accommodated me, by spacing characters and matching my speed. I’m pretty slow but it all feels like a German autobahn, fast and far too fast!
Chances are the first character is a K, W or N and it is.
W what I ponder and send morse “W?”. Ah, I hear an OT and surmise accurately that WB6POT is calling me. He is and one is in the bag.
The fun continues and while I haven’t really given much warning of my arrival, I seem to have coincided with Red NJ7V’s activation in Arizona and presume I’m getting his party goers on the way out. I assume Elliot and Ken are coming. K6EL seemed more manageable to me but still requires a K?. Despite umpteen practices of sending K6HPX I send a medley of incorrect characters but manage to fumble through this. Thanks Elliot, thanks Ken.
Rex is here and has an easy callsign as it ends with an M and T, very rhythmical to me. I get a kick out of Q with Rex as he is my W6 AM successor.
Chicken scratches that is my log. AMZ clipboard, KX2 and BaMa paddles work great for me.
Morse code Paul…a huge struggle but I’m a stubborn mule that thinks of deer when operating
I have a much stronger appreciation of callsigns since trying morse for real. There’s a ring to some, Fred’s KT5X and in particular the X sounds rhythmical and easy to identify. My UK callsign, M0SNA picked unrandomly and with no thought to morse sounds quite nice to my ear but not so my California vanity, W6PNG.
I’m somewhat flummoxed…a prize catch in the form of a contact with a fellow mountain top activator is coming in as dits and dahs. Dave N6AN is sending S2S to me and I’m not entirely sure how to handle the next set of exchanges. At one level it’s easy or so it seemed as I knew almost without hesitation that his summit to summit was from his personal temple (like mine W6/SC-369) was W6/CT-225.
Classic US brass peak marker circa 1950…Rico found another near by dated 1913 (110 years old)
It’s a horseshoe journey to this peak via Bishop with 30 miles along the base of the Whites. I’ve done all the easy peaks in the Whites and always marvel at its compact majesty that belies the meadow like nature of its upper reaches that transform into groves of the oldest living things; Bristlecone Pines. We try to identify peaks but fail abysmally requiring help from PeakFinder. My now retired accolade is hiding behind the behemoth that is Montgomery. Truth is Nevada never really likes to admit that Boundary is it’s highest point but would rather that Wheeler, the subject of another adventure be it, be it.
Blind Spring wasn’t really our destination but rather Antelope or even Trafton (a dirt road too far for this Jeeper ages ago) and I’m not fully prepared to navigate the optimal way.
The mine road looked appealing on a map but once onto it caution saved the day as it clung to the side of the mountain, was strewn with rocks and ever larger boulders that ultimately would dictate a very difficult down hill reversal.
Rico’s disappeared. I call into the wind. Nothing, I call again. Finally a fix on a voice. This way I shout. We repeat this again but no response. The faux destination has numerous ways around and I fear he’s off on the wrong one. I backtrack to a pinnacle and regain a fix on him. Collecting rusted mining junk like cans is a slow and methodical business.
Metal object…a knife?
The West is littered with mines. It’s a story that never ceases to intrigue me but the terrain can be dangerous. Tailings suggest caution, depressions suggest alternate tracks and ultimately we have found our way to the peak and then safely back to the Jeep.
Danger…collapsed mine entrance….
Classic western high desert terrain at around 7,000 ft
It was fun, very fun. I love scrambling through the western sage, around bitter brush, Mormon tea and all that the Eastern Sierras have to offer.
Whites in the background (many are 14,000ft high), happy W6PNG post morse code activation
Added (I hope) NV and NM to my 10m phone WAS award (3 states remain)
77 contacts!!
Pack weight: Approximately 20 lbs
Drive: Car
Hike: ~1/4 miles R/T with 0 ft ascent.
Hike and AZ profile:
Trail is easy to follow and if you get lost what can I say….
Picnic bench with drop off to east
Recommend: Absolutely
Solo operation: Yes
Cell Coverage: Good cell coverage
10m SOTA challenge: Yes, activation #1
Photos: Copyright Paul Gacek 2024
The Internet is a double edged sword being both great and terrible at the same time. Somewhere on that spectrum lies Instagram’s impact. Ten years ago, Horseshoe Canyon would get 3,000 visitors a year, today it gets almost 5,000 a day courtesy of Instagram.
While not quite in the same league as Horseshoe, my local peak has gone from sleepy backwater into a “destination” every weekend and seemingly this holiday Monday. Hordes of happy people look east and await sunrise.
I shuffle by, smile profusely and engage the couple occupying by favorite picnic bench about a happy 2024. Thinking permission might be the best way to go, I ask and up goes my antenna.
The real 1/4 million were behind me….
It’s a very slow start and I’m wondering about the virtue of this early morning adventure.
Two voice calls into the Carolinas are all I can muster
Breaking out the laptop and cranking up the much loved, much vilified digital FT8 program, doesn’t seem to yield much but I’m reluctant to call it quits.
This is day one of the all year 2024 SOTA 10m challenge. The vagaries of the sun cycle make 10m only truely viable in the peak period which is pretty much now and so a little more perseverance is required. Seven (a measly count by all counts) is all I manage on FT8.
First sunrise of 2024 for me and an ever capable Microsoft SurfaceGo…who needs an iPad or equally awfully Android!!
Bands and propagation are fickle. Sometimes from this same location, I seemingly have worked all of the UK by now.
Things pick up and my two voice contacts bloats into seventy and all in all I’m a happy camper.
70 voice contacts and 7 digital (computer to computer via shortwave) contacts
The Yaesu 857 has proven its worth as a “light” feature packed 100w rig despite some limitations such as being noisy. That noise has swallowed Jamie’s (N6JFD) summit to summit attempt from 4-land.
A good start and I have the rest of 2024 to refine, add and do better on 10m including morse.
Faint blue track, southern side of fjord, dead center
The hotel is remarkably empty and she asks what time I want dinner. Its already been a full day, one activation earlier and a long and winding drive north from Bergen. Canned sardines seem unappetizing and with a little mental scheduling I say 7pm.
It’s already 2:15 when I set foot on the trail. It’s steep, maybe 1,600ft in 1.5 miles. The ground is muddy and like any trail through a forest, roots are exposed that add to the need for dexterity.
The shy figure descends past me, back toward me obviously not wanting to be seen.
The trail ascends, twists and I settle into a rhythm that has left behind the huffing, puffing and occasional “burning” muscle to which I wish I had eaten the banana that sat in the trunk along with my unwanted sardines.
The grass is healthy green and moss has grown up trunks ad along branches. All signs of a wet wet environment that is typical of a fjord that is an offshoot of the North Atlantic. Everyone seems to claim the prize for the wettest place in Norway but in this case this remarkably remote place of Brekke might actually be the winner.
Trolls lurk somewhere in this mossy wood
I’d picked the hotel as it is literally on the waters edge and have already seen the expanse of water and granite slabs holding the ocean back and 30 minutes later I see my first almost breathtaking view up possibly 700 ft.
First glimpse of fjord looking out toward the North Atlantic
Windy peak but oh so worth all the effort….1,500 ft in 1.5 miles
The ever amazing KX2….100s of activations and never fails me…..thank you Team Elecraft
…and the other faithfuls. LNR Trail Friendly endFed antenna plus 18″ carbon fiber fishing rod…
It’s a little bit of a fast and furious activation. Canned sardines seem so unappealing and I really do want to be at my car at some reasonable time. I’ve always been a fast up hill hiker but two knee surgeries later and a knee that is not “clinically silent” as my surgeon described it, has me typically descending with poles and slowly.
I guess Norway’s proximity shouldn’t surprise me with the consistent and relatively “loud” Polish stations I’ve heard so far which are always a thrill for this half Pole and I try one of the ten Polish words I know, dziekuje, but I think my thank you is lost in the ether.
I nab more European stations from Spain eastward and when my calls are no longer answered despite spots, I pack up by rote, adjust my pack and sigh a little as I turn my back on this spectacular vista.
Cycle 25 seems to be misbehaving at this point and we seem to have lots more Sun activity that is “trashing” radio communications mine included.
20m contacts across Europe
Looking east toward Brekke and my trail head
It was really a random find and reality exceeded my rather minimal expectations. I think the sedum roof was the draw and made me think of trolls, Loki and other things Norwegian. The promise of a room overlooking the fjord sealed the deal and State-side it would have cost about a million times more.
Americans love Old Glory but I’ve never seen so many flags as I have in Norway
Pushing it on the trail had me back sooner and unbeknownst to me expanded my dinner options from just meat balls to that plus salmon. Meat balls always makes me think of the Swedish Chef from the Muppets and so I opted for the salmon and with no regrets, oven roasted and it tasted simply perfect.
Nabbed just in the nick of time before the cook fled home for the evening, could have been meatballs.
Tasted remarkably good before and after dinner
At one point, I’d convinced myself to bring a reasonably sophisticated Canon DSLR, matching manly tripod and a MacBookPro that might rival nVidia when processing Large Language Models. However, limited space and sense prevailed and I brought an ancient Canon camera and diminutive tripod plus a variety of filters.
My heart has been more into the hiking and views but I pulled the gear our in the vane hope that an 11pm sunset might yield something.
Waiting for an 11pm sunset
I’m a sucker of mountains and water. The views on this hike will stick with me for a very long time. The camera just can’t capture the expansiveness, the cold North Atlantic gusts nor the nuances of the greens and browns that made up the landscape. Much of the hike was perched on the edge of mountain dramatic drop offs. All safe but adding to the sense of wonder.
Such a memorable hike and I doubt I’ll ever return but hope you too can experience this.
Stepping off the ledge, I was confronted with trails rugged and groomed. Picking one at random had me regretting my choice as it was far more rugged than groomed. While not normally a consideration, I’d tweaked my gammy knee earlier in the week and groomed is my necessary preference.
Maps are our friend and I jockey across an intersection of trails and soon start into a climb. I have no real idea of what to expect. The ground cover is unexpectedly browned grass pressed flat from snow and wind. The geology is nothing but what you would expect of a place that is an upheaval of ancient lava and strata shaped into fjords, islands and water courses. The trail is angled sheets of rock pristinely contoured into multi-layered sandwiches.
I scramble up over wet rock and loose compacted earth always mindful of my gammy knee. Slow and constant versus an athletic springbok is who I want to be today.
I reach what is plateau and settle into a journey across an almost featureless terrain following not cairns but rigid and sometimes bent metal posts that draw the eye a thousand times better than a cairn. This is about practically and not some notion of unnecessary impact. It’s muddy under foot, wooden boardwalks have been installed periodically and some of the ground is so obviously dangerous in that you could be waste deep with one wrong step.
The sky is grey and textured in an artist’s broad brush strokes. This is coastal Norway and only a few miles from the capricious, fickle and stormy North Sea.
I happen upon a lake. It’s small but the distant wooden structure is a draw to my eye. There’s something appealing that I’m compelled to photograph and I jockey around the shore for the time bound perfect shot.
Walking further I’m surprised to find my small lake experience repeated on steroids. A large, almost sumptuous family home greets me in the middle of no where. I’m perplexed as to its us, is it a fabled Norwegian multi day hike cabin, a Red Cross rescue station or just simply a family home.
Private house, Red Cross triage station or legendary Norwegian hiking “hut”?
My plateau continues punctuated occasionally by a scramble up 50 or 70 feet and contouring around many stone pillars that in England would be a peak marker but here are either the folly of man or a conspiracy to confuse.
Winter 2022 in the Northern Hemisphere has been brutal, relentless and extreme. Norway hasn’t escaped an over abundance of cold and snow.
I stare upon the small snow field, studying the tracks across and pondering the wisdom of traversal. I’m alone and think it an odd end to be lost in a late spring Norwegian snow field and wonder if I should walk across with my hiking pole flag poled above me. I have no idea how deep the snow is nor it’s compactness but trust the tracks are recent and the occupants of the shoes made it to the other side. Stepping across is both reassuring and a little nerve racking.
I’m approaching my destination, the high point on this plateau that is nestled on an eastern drop off that funnels the wind from the North Sea into a constant 20+ mph wind.
Expeditious is always my watch word and I find a short 30″ post in the ground that is a perfect anchor for my mast.
Classic US End Fed deployment
40m is a struggle netting only 3 contacts.
I worry that my end fed, too close to the ground plus the flat nature of my plateau is conspiring against me. We are 12-24 months off the sun cycle peak and generally radio conditions should be better and better. However, recently the sun has favored the North Light Brigade which is the Ying to the Yang of Team Radio. Maybe I’m skunked.
The sun is a fickle mistress and 20m dances and sings with loud S9 signals both ways. For a few moments I’m the King of Poland netting so many complimentary Polish operators in SP and SQ land.
A thoroughly unexpected bonus is 5 summit to summit contacts into France, Germany and Austria that net me 54 more points toward my 1,000 point Shack Sloth goal. This is great and I’m thinking I’ll reach the goal soon with this trip continuing, the upcoming G/LD event or Andy and Paul’s Friedrichshafen roundtrip.
The way out
Couples waft by all seemingly in my age bracket. No poles, nimble feet and physiques obscenely bordering on the Olympic has be marvel about the Norwegian life style.
Reaching my ledge, I count people and find myself first in line for the cable car down.
Her garb suggested trail runner of which I had seen so many today and asked how far and how long. I couldn’t tell if she was Australian or Norwegian. We chatted on the way down about hiking options and Norwegians desire to almost over celebrate National Day.
Cable car view of Bergen
Comparing countries is a risky business as all are not equal by any measure.
To me, Norway is a remarkable place.
A thousand miles of coast, abundant natural resources, a sense of stewardship, a miniscule population and a reserved sense of austerity that collectively mixes to create a place unquestionably worth visiting for all and especially the outdoors inclined.
I’ve stumbled into the clouds that thicken and then break to reveal three large man sized cairns. The opaque view of a door wide open, many feet above me entering into a dark and uninviting chamber is like something out of a Steven King film. Ahead, the trig point is perched eight feet above me on a pile of rocks. The metal frame, rusted and padlocked together adds to the oddness of this place that I currently share with no-one
This isn’t Burning Man but the rather the surreal peak of Ben Nevis, the UK’s high point very early on a September morning.
The peak’s hut open door does not beckon me in
A padlocked frame, rusting atop Ben Nevis and to what purpose?
Presumably raised up to accommodate snow in the winter, a hut , a trig marker and a cairn
I push up my mast that now seems to be rid of that pungent odor that set in having never properly drying out after recent wet activations.
I’ve been plagued with problems recently.
My simple VHF role up antenna that has been a gem seems to have netted zero contacts on the last three activations. Putting this down to time of day and local mountains blocking my signal, I sally on until it dawned on me that maybe it is broken.
It was and today my jerry rigged repair seems to work. I contemplated bring just this small VHF radio. Others have successfully nabbed four plus contacts. I reach down to Glasgow and over to Mallaig. Silence, I call, listen, get colder and eventually give up.
My second realization of failure was my KX2. I had dropped it off my desk a few weeks back and optimistically believed it worked as it powered up, appear to send and made all the right noises. Hart Fell was a shortwave (HF) struggle and I’m now convinced its generating a virtually imperceptible signal. Weak to start with and now essentially useless.
Ben Nevis isn’t a jaunt in the park. The trail might be manicured, contoured and everything a tourist might want, but it’s still 4,400 ft ascent over 5 miles and with that pack weight is a consideration. Hiking Scotland year round can offer anything from winds, to rain, to snow, to bright sunshine within the same day and Ben Nevis is a notoriously capricious peak that can appear sunny at the trailhead only to be engulfed in a blizzard once you arrive.
A variety of clothing seems sensible. Fluids to drink seem essential. Something to nibble on can revive the body and the ten essentials (first aid, compass,…) may heal or save the body and so the weight goes up and up. With all of that I really debated about an HF rig given my ultra lite KX2 was hors de combat but as a well trained Boy Scout leaving little to chance I brought one.
The ground below me seems to occasionally rock from side to side as I deploy my fishing rod with guy lines and a flimsy and less than optimal bit of wire pretending to be an antenna.
My less than optimally deployed antenna on peak of Ben Nevis
My near solitary journey up hauling my gear found me creating my own rain forest that despite being captured by wool had me progressively getting colder and colder while putting my antenna up. A down parka goes on, a rain shell, a woolly hat, another hat. Hot tea goes in, a chocolate power drinking but I simply can’t reverse or stem the shakes. People are calling, lots of them. I can’t write, I can’t read what I write, I try to correct my pencil scratchings and they keep calling. I have to stop, get up, swing my arms. move around, rock across the rocks again and settle back in.
Operating over almost two and half hours I net almost 50 contacts across Europe from Greece to Portugal and over to Finland and points between. Its a great haul for me plus 6 coveted contacts with other people like me up a mountain with a radio.
A decent haul of around 50 contacts across the UK and Europe
I had fretted about parking. A run thorough the parking lot the afternoon before revealed zippo free spaces. At 5:15am, I had the choice of any of 80 spaces bar three. Civil twilight, that time before sunrise that the sky begins to lighten wasn’t far off and my headlamp lit the bridge, the trail, the stile and all the nuances of this exquisitely built and maintained trail.
Three teenagers pass me heading back to the trailhead sharing that they set out at 2am. Wow.
Civil twilight at the trail head
The sunrises, lights the surrounding hills and reveals my first glimpse of Fort William the the sea lochs and land lochs all around. It’s breath taking.
Oh can you see by dawn’s early light…..
Westward ho
They pass me and I ask for a snap. He obliges and hands my phone to his partner and she takes it very seriously with various backgrounds and orientations. Thank you, strangers.
The solitary author.
That’s it, no one else goes by and I have a solitary and I think unique experience of ascending Ben Nevis, tourist free with sunshine vistas.
It’s taken me 2 hours and 59 minutes from my car to the set of the Steven King film that is the collapsed volcanic peak of Ben Nevis. I’m happy.
Looking west, Ft William to right, sea loch with Mull to left
Manicured trail with hikers ascending mid day
Lunch time arrivals almost at the peak
I’m getting impatient or maybe it’s boredom. Descents are always hard on my knees and I’m 30 minutes from my car.
She passed me by and I commented that she’d picked up her pace. Sharing that her friends had released her of companion duty reveals a US accent.
“Where you from in the US?, I ask. “San Francisco Bay Area”, she responds. As a twenty year Bay Area resident I’m intrigued. Sebastopol is a great town in Sonoma County, most famous as the home of Schultz, the Charlie Brown comic author. Frequent visitors in the 90s, my wife and I always enjoyed it as a destination with its mix of historic California bungalows, Hippy feel and that extra sense of safety having declared it self a “Nuclear Free Zone”.
She works for FaceBook and we talk about possible changes in the way people interact with her given FaceBooks perceived influence on politics and all things divisive. She’s on a hiking tour. I share my passion for mountain tops and radios. She laughed saying that explains why my pack was so big. It was all welcome and made that last 30 minute disappear in a heart beat.
“Do you have flights?”, I ask staring at the 22 options. “No but you can get thirds”. I look at the details and share she’s gone over to the dark side. So many West Coast IPAs. She laughs and pours me my first three beer tasters.
I believe in rewards.
22 choices of fine Scottish beer
Decoder ring and I even tried #12, Cider…very nice
Great views of California’s Sierra Nevada mountains
First time activations
Hardwork
Pack weight: Approximately 22 lbs
Drive: Leave Highway 395 at Tom’s place and park at end of Upper Rock Creek
Hike: ~16 miles R/T with 3,600 ft ascent to ~12,500 ft peak.
Hike and AZ profile:
Trail for first 4 miles and then a scramble to second 4 miles. 1 mile ridge route at end with lots of exposure (class 3 or 4) and high risk of severe bodily damage/death if you misstep or are simply SOL.
Looking east and over one of the Hilton Lakes toward Glass MountainBlue track is the in/out route
The stats remaim somewhat fixed. It was almost 16 miles round trip, 3,600ft ascent and up to 12,500 ft half on trail and the other half scrambling off trail.
What made it all the more memorable and far more difficult was the two bad decisions we made that turned this into a somewhat scary and sketchy journey to one of many “unclaimed” Sierra SOTA peaks.
First in comes at a price.
We’re late and dawn has broken as the Jeep glides up the mountain road to one of the highest entry points into the California Sierra Nevada mountains. In contrast to twelve months early were everyone and their dog had “discovered” the great out doors during the period of seemingly perpetual lockdowns, no-one is around. Over the entire day we saw no one and our journey was punctuated by periods of long silence quite possibly because we’ve talked ourselves out or maybe the more insidious, that retirement can render you more boring than a working stiff.
We skirt around Patricia Mountain that we had also been first onto two years earlier. That was hard work too but in hindsight a bit of cake walk. Miles in and having gained very little elevation, we start descending which is always a bane as we will need to regain the lost elevation to ultimately get to our destination.
The lakes are pretty, bursting out of the dense wall of pines or furs. Stopping is always risky as darting objects accumulate around you, followed by the inevitable sawing into flesh as the mosquito does its bit. Hands waving I’m not convinced I’ve been successful and we hastily move on from still and partially stagnant water.
Not our peak!! This is Mount Humphreys (SS-134) passed along the way to the Hilton
The trail becomes fainter as we skirt the third and fourth lakes, serving as a cue to determine our off trail route to the start of the ridge possibly two or so miles hence.
Some of the terrain looked decidedly similar to Patrica (and why not as it wasn’t more than a mile or two away) consisting of boulders acting as anchors for young aspens. All very pretty but taxing to traverse and here started our first mistake.
Thinking that staying higher and ridge side of this organic barbed wire, had us traversing large and unstable boulders. Somewhere between a tight rope artist and politician preaching to diverse constituents, we find a groove between forward motion and loosing our balance as random large and small boulders rock and shift below our boots.
Straight up and through this…looks easy!! Well not really. Mistake 1, we stayed too much to the right.
Half a mile, a mile and on, we are progressively slowing our pace with a comesurate increase in tiredness. Realizing possibly too late that we should have dropped down and out of this terrain we are within striking distance of the turn for the ridge.
Hilton is the high point. We headed for the left notch/saddle before ascending the ridge. Seemed like a great idea!!
Collapsing on the ground, socks off and a fifteen minute break are firsts for me on any recent hike. We’re behind schedule, I’m tired but determined to complete this and hold onto the belief that the ridge will be easy peasy. We just need to get to it.
Euphoria turns to a lump in the throat as we turn onto the ridge. The hidden side of our peak is one perpetual rock and boulder field reaching to the ultimate high point. The ridge is notched with low points and here lay our second mistake. Not wishing to needlessly expend energy traversing the ridge and up and down the notches, we stay 10-20 ft below the ridge essentially on its shoulder.
Hilton at last. We ascended ~800 ft slightly below the right ridge (mistake!!) and on the ridge coming down
Stepping forward onto rocks, transforms them into skate boards propelled by gravity downwards and away from our peak. Rocks act as levers shifting others above that seem to want to head downwards after the newly made skate boards.
Bottom of image shows the nature of the ridge …pointy and unstable!
The crunching was unmistakable and seconds later Rico’s foot hold had disappeared revealing a 20 foot chute of voidness below him as he grabbed onto something solid. And so the Battle of the Shoulder continued foot after foot after foot. Sometimes I retreated to climb higher and over a dodgy collection of boulders. Looking peak ward less often than not revealed progress until ultimately we arrive at a tiny perch that is Hilton Peak.
Despite my huffing, puffing and complaints this is a big reason I do this. The view from Hilton at 12,500ft
Truth is I really don’t want to be here but I am. The journey to this point hasn’t been quite what I imagined. Waking up the day before at 100ft above sea level, driving umpteen miles up the Eastern Sierras, activating Reversed before getting a bad night sleep hasn’t exactly positioned me/us for the jaunt in the park we had hoped for.
Food helps and I drink some of my new mountain elixir; Gatorade. Tastes great and almost instant energy.
My antenna is expeditious. No cell signal seems quite expected given the torture to this point but I’m not deterred, fiddling with settings, I find one.
We agree to descend along the ridge. In many respects this is the right decision and the drop off is best “ignored” by focusing directly ahead and below. Rico has jumped the short distance over a crevasse. Full of energy I’d do the same but I’m not and I stop and ponder.
Should I or shouldn’t I?
Shouldn’t is the answer and I mutter under my breath as I back track and descent part of the shoulder only to re-appear on the ridge a few minutes later.
A better route down via a stream and lakes, dry and wet. Rico on the left.
It’s a myth that hiking up is harder than down. Sure, up has muscles being exerted sometimes to painful points but down has the specter of a twisted ankle or knee. We resolve to not repeat the ascent route once past the ridge and follow a more natural stream and dried lake course.
More of the route down via the stream and lakes. Humphreys is on the right.
Almost 12 hours and on my brain isn’t performing mental math so well. We should be long back to the car by now but clearly not and no we begin to marvel at how far we went. Almost 16 miles and almost 4,000 ft of ascent.
In of itself that’s nothing particularly spectacular but our two bad decisions made it into a tiring journey.
All fun and I nabbed a first time activation.
I’ll skip the Hilton next time and try the Marriott.
Strenuous but straightforward ascent in good weather and conditions. Laurel Peak from Convict Lake (snapped 4 months after activation on Thanksgiving 2020)
The shape was oddly familiar but it’s non standard color stood out on the edge of the tarn, a mountain lake.
Panning around, I was surprised to see so many other vehicles, campers and presumably fisherman. Looking for an early start and not wishing to navigate the steep road back up we camp in a rock field off the side of the road.
Flagging him down, I asked if it was a Jeep derivative and learnt a little more about Jeep’s history as I admired his restored V6 Jeepster Commando from the late 60s. It seemed too beautiful to bring up this rocky 4×4 road but he has done that and shares he was fishing.
Late 60s Jeepster Commando (V6) beautifully restored. Never found out if the color is original.
It wasn’t particularly heavy nor unexpected but wet enough to have us scramble into the Jeep.
Cell coverage abounds and with off road history top of mind, we watched videos of a Ford classic reborn. Twenty plus years on from end of production, the Bronco is causing excitement and looking at the videos we think it will be a boon to the off road world. However, once a Jeeper, always a Jeeper.
Camping can be rote which can be good, as routine minimizes the chance of leaving something behind.
Our food and specifically our freeze dried package of spicy Indian curry has been failing us and required a lift. Tapatio MIA we’ve nabbed a promising looking Trade Joe’s alternative. Maybe we over doused our meal, maybe the beers had us momentarily districted but is was foul.
Too late, our evening meal was fire eater hot, not chilly hot but vinegar hot. Even another beer doesn’t cure it.
Foul addition to our boring camp food that even extra beer couldn’t remedy
One of the upsides to sleeping in the Jeep is easily seeing a starry night.
One day, I’ll figure out how to disable the interior light when opening the door and retain my night vision. Even so, it’s a thousand times better than seeing a starry night at home and it never ceases to excite me. Maybe my university fantasy to be an astrophysicist wouldn’t have been so bad at all if I could get beyond being broke most days of life.
Drive up to 10,000 ft, put camp site and trail head
Like so many mountain western trails this one climbs, turns and behaves impeccably and I can almost imagine my Volvo making the journey. Maybe its a couple of feet or hundreds of yards but the illusion is dispelled by rocks and more rocks and my Volvo trail instantly becomes a 4×4 Jeep or Tacoma or Bronco trail. Wheel placement is essential and once again I curse for not airing down my tires, its simply optimism and laziness.
There’s an excitement in traveling these trails as you never really know what you will encounter. Winter storms wash out trails that earlier had been rated easy and over night transform them into places you wish you hadn’t taken your precious vehicle. It’s not so much about the cost of damage but more about a guaranteed ride home that I care about. However, today its pretty straight forward.
Look closely for the winding road up in the center of the snap
Dawn broke quickly and our trail is easy to follow. We venture up along a series of switch backs, through copses of trees and slowly ascend toward the saddle. Laurel to the left looks rather daunting and it somewhat makes the decision to pursue Bloody Mountain all the easier. Bloody is further, higher and maybe a better accolade and we head off piste as Rico loves to say. Choice of footing is all about progress versus human damage. We want to gain height and eliminate miles to our peak but in a way that is efficient and safe. Every fifty or hundred yards has us reassessing the terrain ahead and making micro corrections. We have a sense of a trail, unmarked and undisclosed on Gaia maps, find it, lose it and eventually settle into a rhythm along it. Its a team effort as sometimes I’m running parallel to our unmarked trail while Rico finds and follows it only to be replaced moments later as I shout to Rico to follow me.
The trail ascends onto a ridge that defines the terrain for the next mile or so. Its easy going summer time but I imagine in the winter, with sharp drop offs either side this could be quite intimidating.
Bloody, center right. Long hike up central ridge to peak
Our views are generous.
Coming to the Sierra Nevada’s isn’t about coming to another mountain range. At almost four hundred miles long, sporting fourteeners and the great interloper Whitney, that should be second to Rainier, the Sierras are a breathtaking landscape of lunar style granite rock.
If you are respectful it’s an exhilarating experience. I’ve never regretted coming and never left without a unique and lasting memory from my first multi day backpacking trip to the Minnerets through to today.
I love this place.
Cloudy and partially fire polluted vistas are still world class and breath taking…we are almost at Bloody
I’m getting closer to my three hundredth SOTA activation.
I do this over and over because the feeling standing on the peak and looking around the compass rose is for me one of the joys of life. Maybe it’s the sense of accomplishment, maybe the vista, the solitude or the sense of domain. Maybe its deep rooted in my DNA that my ancestors were mountain people. All I know at this point is euphoria.
Lakes, vistas…its all gorgeous and worth it
Grounding myself it’s time for antennas and radios. The little KX2 is unpacked, the antenna deployed and a momentary pray to the sunspot Gods has me calling CQ.
Logging old school. I love the contradiction for a guy that is a dyed in the wool tech head.
Descending might seem easy but truth is my knees and muscles made me an adept climbing goat. Time lingers, feet turn into yards, yard to quarter miles and eventually the saddle. I fret about retracing our steps and not happening upon a ledge and steep drop off.
Laurel begins to dominate the view and we speculate how the ascent. It looks remarkably steep and that in of itself isn’t an issue except when coupled with scree, almost as mad as ploughing the ocean.
Laurel, peak number two. Steep and scree…..help!!Laurel again…it’s a monster and we ascend slightly left of the vertical ridge, then across the top left to the peak. Fun?
It’s slow going and many a time I curse under my breath. I swear that five more minutes of this and I’m turning around. I look up and see I have made some progress and repeat this pattern of discouragement and jubilation. We keep pushing, feet stepping up, sliding down a foot and trying again to gain altitude. Tenacity is a life winning attribute and we refuse to be defeated, having our laurel simply be Bloody Mountain.
Far distance are the Whites, upper left is Glass Mountain, Crawley Lake right and below Convict Lake….my Thanksgiving 2020 walk
Mountains are magical and what multiples that is the connectedness of standing on one and recognizing that I have done the same on others out across the horizon. Coming back to the Northern Desert is paying huge dividends.
Life is good despite the the never ending specter of Covid.
Friendship, vistas, sore muscles, memories to share around a fire and a glass of whiskey…..what more is there to life?
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