Author: Tara Taft

Hiking to St. Mary’s Glacier

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Have you ever hiked on a glacier? Or even seen one? You don’t have to travel to Alaska or even Glacier National Park, but if you live on the East Coast, you do have to travel west. In the Lower 48, there are over 340 glaciers in California, Colorado, Oregon, Montana, and Wyoming. A few years ago, we hiked on one of the more accessible glaciers, St. Mary’s Glacier, located north of Idaho Springs, Colorado.

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After parking in one of the two small parking lots, our group found the trailhead and began hiking on a sunny, clear, but cold February afternoon. At over 10,000 feet at the trailhead, the air was thin for flatlanders like us.

We huffed and puffed with children in tow (ages 4, 6, 10, and 12), climbing only 420 feet during the ¾ mile hike past St. Mary’s Lake to a snowfield.

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At the glacier, we took photos, the kids rolled, and we watched people glacading before we headed back on the trail.

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St. Mary’s Glacier is located in the Clear Creek Ranger District of the Arapaho National Forest, about an hour’s drive from downtown Denver.  The trailhead is located 9.2 miles north of I-70 on SR 275 (Fall River Road). For more information, check out www.protrails.com or call the Clear Creek Ranger District at 303-567-3000.

Trip taken February 2009.

Hiking to Boston Mine Camp

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When is Boston not a city and not in Massachusetts? Answer: When it’s a mine in Colorado. When you’re tired of and/or exhausted from skiing in Colorado and or just looking for a change of pace, but still want to be outside, try snowshoeing or hiking into an old gold mining camp, the Boston mine camp.

On a winter break in Colorado, we took a break from skiing at Copper Mountain and ventured on a trail nearby. The sun was warm, and the snow was packed enough that snow shoes weren’t an absolute.

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With the kids pulling sleds and stopping periodically to throw a snowball, we hiked the 1.8 miles from the trail head to the former Boston mine camp where just an old log boardinghouse and log cabin remain from the days of gold mining activity in the early 1900s.

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We hung out in the Mayflower amphitheater, watching cross country skiers, exploring the old cabins, sledding, and enjoying the views, before heading back to the car.

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For those more adventurous, you can hike the full Mayflower to Clinton Gulch loop as described in Mary Ellen Gilliand’s book, “The New Summit Hiker” and in an article published in The Summit Daily.

Directions to the trail head: Drive Highway 91 south 6.2 miles from the exit 195 off of Interstate 70 at Copper Mountain. The trail head will be on your left.

Trip taken February 2009.

Walking Along the Brigham Pike

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If you’re in Boston, when is the Pike not the Mass Pike, the section of Interstate 90 which travels across Massachusetts?

When my husband and I entered Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston for preoperative surgery meetings, we were directed to the “Pike,” a long corridor on the second floor of the hospital. “Take exit 6 off the Pike,” the woman at the information desk said. Curious, we followed her directions to the second floor and onto the Pike where signs direct the traveler to various departments (neurology, phlebotomy) and to bridges connecting the hospital to other area hospitals via above ground passageways. You can shop on the Pike, access the cafeteria, and pick up your prescriptions at the pharmacy.

As my husband prepared, endured, and recovered from hip replacement surgery, we traveled from rural suburbia into the city of Boston’s medical maze, where several big name hospitals care for patients while teaching future doctors in what is called the Longwood Medical Area.  Beth Israel Deaconess, Boston Children’s Hospital, Dana Farber Cancer Institute, Joslin Diabetes Center, New England Baptist, and Brigham and Women’s Hospital are all within a few blocks, not too far from Fenway Park, Simmons College, and the Museum of Fine Arts.

Two weeks later, I was back at the Brigham, this time, avoiding the Pike. After leaving my husband at 7:30 a.m. in the preoperative staging area, I checked in at the Robert and Ronnie Bretholtz Center for Patients and Families (Bretholtz Center) where I was given a buzzer (just like the ones restaurants give you while you wait for a table). I found a cozy chair in an unoccupied alcove and waited while the doctors worked, reading a book by Dennis Lehane. Complete with a library, computers and printers, knitting, games, and TVs, I found the Bretholtz Center a comfortable and comforting place to wait. I was told when surgery was complete and soon received a phone call from the doctor to hear the details. All went well.

I was back at the hospital the next day, just for a visit I thought, but 2 hours later, we were driving home, my husband, his new hip, and me.

Shopping Around the World

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Where did you go this holiday season? I stayed near home the month of December but went shopping around the world and bought several gifts handmade by women and children in places like Sri Lanka, Ghana, Kenya, Uganda, and Thailand. Each item made me pause and smile, and I have no doubt, they made the recipient feel good, too.

I oohed and awed at jewelry made in the Philippines and in India from genuine pearls. Pearls with Purpose was created to instill self-sustainability and hope in women throughout the world.

I smelled the candles and admired the containers at Prosperity Candle, a company whose mission is to “empower women to rebuild their lives through candle making, one gift at a time.” After training women as candle making entrepreneurs in Baghdad, the company began working with Burmese and Bhutanese women refugees living in Massachusetts. If you buy a candle, you can email its creator through the organization’s website.

I bought recycled bead bracelets made in Uganda from BeadforLife. Bead for Life teaches women the art of bead making as well as entrepreneurial and business skills so that they may successfully run their own sustainable business once they graduate.

I bought bracelets for gifts and a necklace for myself from Emerge Global, an organization which supports teenage girls in Sri Lanka, ages 10-18,  who have survived abuse and helps them develop business and life skills needed for self-sufficiency.

IMG_0814I gave animal shaped ornaments made from soapstone to my family to hang on our tree. Venture Imports sells these ornaments and other carvings which are cut with machetes by Kenyans as part of the Tabaka project. Tabaka was established to eradicate suffering throughout the Kisii area of Kenya and provide an opportunity for a better quality of life by providing fair wages and the ability to market products outside of Kenya.

And I don’t know about you, but when I’m shopping, I sometimes buy gifts for myself. So, what did I buy?

I bought a string of lights and flowers made from real leaves of the rubber tree and the bodhi tree by Burmese women. Money from the sale of “flowers from real leaves” supports local women and other projects at Whispering Seed, “a village-based sustainable living and learning center and home for children who have been orphaned, abused and neglected along the Thai-Burmese border.”

I bought a bracelet for myself from the Mmofra Trom Bead Project whose motto is “Give the gift of education, one bracelet at a time.” Children in Ghana string beads made from recycled glass to help fund their high school and college education. The beads are made by local Ghana artisans.

In the past, I’ve given shares of animals as gifts through Heifer International and bought jewelry and art from Ugandan artists through Project Have Hope, an organization that empowers women in the Acholi region of Uganda. What unique and handmade gifts did you discover as you traveled around the planet this past holiday season?

Getting Gas

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The gas station was bright, the lights were on, but when I slid my credit card through the gas pump’s slot, an error message read, “Pump stopped.” Again and again, the words flashed at me, “Pump stopped.” It was after 9 p.m., but the gas station was just off the highway. It must be open. With only a quarter of a tank, and a rental car to return and a plane to catch, we needed gas.

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A car hurried into the station, and I watched the incredulous faces as the driver received the same nonsensical message. The lights were on, why weren’t the pumps working?

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When a mop carrying, curly haired woman moved up and down beyond the window, I drove out of the station’s parking lot, stopping at the nearby intersection, waiting for the light to change.

“The trunk is open!” my son yelled. With the car in park and the hazards on, I ran around the car, closing the trunk and the gas cap cover all before the green arrow signaled it was our turn to move. I turned the key. Nothing. The car wouldn’t start; I tried again. Nothing. Glancing in the rear view mirror, I was relieved to find no car behind me in the left turn only lane. I paused, waited a few seconds and tried again. This time the car started much to all of our relief. We turned left and onto the freeway.

Continuing south towards the city, I had an idea. Not far over the hill, lights blazed and cars turned. The gas price was low and, more important, the station was definitely open.

Being careful to pop only the gas cap and not the trunk this time, I swiped my credit card again and again. Another message flashed at me. “Card declined.” I tried another credit card. “Card declined.” Somewhat oblivious to the lights and noise, I dodged the incoming and outgoing cars and ran to the pay window. A man sat inside the locked, brightly lit store, his mouth camouflaged and muffled by a speaker. “You need to pay with cash,” he said. I ran back to the car and tried again to pump the gas. Nothing.

Back at the window, the man clarified, “You need to pay first.” But this is a rental car and I need to fill the tank and I have no idea how much gas it will take, I said. “I’ll give you change,” he responded.

Running back to the car, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone, knowing I likely looked like a crazy woman, I grabbed my wallet, found $40 in cash, ran back to the window and gave him the money. This time, the pump worked. I filled the tank and ran back to the window for my $4 in change.

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Several miles later, we neared the airport. The gas gauge still read full, but the minutes before our flight had decreased significantly. Knowing there was a chance the rental car employee would charge us double or triple for that extra gallon of gas, I decided to risk it. Who knew if there were any more gas stations open? And even if there were, I was out of cash. I knew from experience that gas stations near the San Francisco airport are few and far between.

After taking a wrong turn and driving too far to the rental car return, I noticed the gas needle had moved. Would we be charged? We emptied the car, scrambling to get organized, and I gave the agent the keys. Less than a minute later, he handed me the receipt with a smile. The total was zero. No extra charge. We made it through security and to the gate just as the plane was boarding. Next time I’ll add an extra half hour before flight time.

Trip taken April 2009.

How Clean Are Those Motel Sheets?

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After 5 nights of camping in Acadia National Park, we spontaneously decided to spend one more night in Bar Harbor, the touristy, trendy town abutting the park. “Spider Web,” an Agatha Christy mystery, was playing at the local theater, and a room was available at a simple motel on the main strip. We left our luggage in the room, ate a quick dinner and headed to the theater where local talent entertained and exceeded our expectations.

It was late when we returned to the motel. With three beds, two doubles and a twin, the room was perfect for our family of four. As we took turns brushing our teeth and getting ready for bed, it was my son who discovered something first. “There’s an ear plug in my bed!” he exclaimed. No doubt about it. That was an ear plug. And it wasn’t brand new.

I turned back the covers on my bed. Human hair laced my pillow and crumbs added texture to the cotton sheets. My daughter found additional hairs on her bed as well.

Ewwww! How could we sleep in these sheets? We contemplated getting our sleeping bags from the car but reminded ourselves we were paying $100 for the privilege of staying here.

By now it was 11:30 p.m., but my husband left to wake the owners. Living in a small house connected to the motel, the owners hadn’t yet gone to bed and when told about the condition of the sheets were suitably mortified and blamed it on the cleaning service. Although they offered to make the bed themselves, my husband said no thank you. He just asked for the sheets since it was late, and we were all in our pajamas.

Two years later, we decided to stay in one of those places with single room log cabins while driving up to Vermont. Breakfast was included at this good size lodging, complete with a pool, playground and fire pit. With our own front porch and a sitting area, we discovered games and books in our cabin in addition to the usual bed and bath. But as we got into bed, I turned back my sheet in horror. A black hair lay diagonally across the pillow case, and another one on the light blue sheet below.

After a trip to the office for clean sheets, we decided the dryer must be to blame. Although we enjoyed staying at these privately owned motels, it will be chain motels or hotels for us in the future, complete with industrial size dryers and, we hope, no extraneous human hair.

Trips taken 2007 and 2009.

Hanging Out at Punkin Chunkin

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When we weren’t watching the machines, we were watching the people, on ATVs and golf carts, on couches on top of pickup trucks, wearing orange and black, some with real pumpkins on top of their heads.

We caught glimpses of Kari, Tory, and Grant from MythBusters interviewing people for the Science show on Punkin Chunkin.

We perused the many booths along the Midway, bought mittens and apple cider, tasted hot sauce and BBQ sauce, and ate pulled pork and crabcakes, funnel cakes and apple pie.

We left the Punkin Chunkin after sunset, tired and cold but ready to return next year to Bridgeport, Delaware, for another 3 days of competition, people watching, and fun.

Trip taken November 2012.

Checking Out the Big Guns

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When we weren’t getting ready to launch a pumpkin at Punkin Chunkin, our team was visiting with other teams in the 15 divisions, checking out their machines (catapults, trebuchets, air cannons), watching their launches, and making notes for next year. The competitors were friendly and open, everyone eager to show off their machines and to add a word of insight or advice.

We watched the various methods of human power used on some of the machines (hand crank, bicycle, rowing machine, even climbing a hamster type wheel).

We checked out Pumpkin Slayer and watched the machine shoot its pumpkin 1283 feet in the Adult Human Powered Division (decent but less than the world record it set in 2009 with a chunk of 1984 feet) and watched the Smokin Lamas set a new world record with their first chunk (1586 feet) in the Adult Centrifugal Human Powered Division.

We marveled at Inertia II, a centrifugal machine. After learning how its machine works, we watched as Inertia II threw its last pumpkin 2,688 feet, just 49 feet shy of the adult centrifugal world record set in 2006.

We held our ears and scanned the sky as the air cannons sent their pumpkins flying thousands of feet. With names like Spit Fire, Chunk-n-ology, Old Glory, and even the Hormone Blasters, the air cannons were sleek and colorful.

Young Glory III won the Adult Air division with its launch of 3,887 feet while Hormone Blasters won the Adult Female Air division with its launch of 3,500 feet.

Air cannon photos by Sandy Taft.

Trip taken November 2012.

Chuckin Pumpkins at Punkin Chunkin

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They were big and small, wood and metal, human and gas powered, but they were all designed to do the same thing: chuck or “chunk” pumpkins across a cornfield. Trebuchets, catapults, centrifugal machines, air cannons and their teams all gathered last weekend in Bridgeville, Delaware, for the 27th annual World Championship Punkin Chunkin. And we were there.

After watching Punkin Chunkin on TV last Thanksgiving, my daughter and her friend decided they wanted to enter their own machine. A little less than a year later, they were in Bridgeville with their brothers and their own wooden catapult, named the Socket Monkey, ready to compete in the human powered youth competition.

The Punkin Chunkin competition usually lasts 3 days but due to recovery from Hurricane Sandy, each team’s three launches were squeezed into just 2 days. On Friday, the teams set up their machines, weighed their pumpkins (4 pounds was the minimum allowed), and erected their own backstop to prevent those accidental backwards flying pumpkins from launching into the crowd.

On Saturday, the competition began with the youngest competitors: children 10 and under operated their own catapults and trebuchets before the Socket Monkey launched its first pumpkin into the wind at about 8:30 a.m.

As the pumpkin hurled into the sky and splattered on the ground in the distance, volunteers on ATVs sped off with a GPS to measure the distance of the first chunk: 166 feet.

Somehow the organizers managed to squeeze in two launches for each of the 115 teams on Sunday, the last few chunks occurring at sunset. The Socket Monkey’s second pumpkin landed at 126 feet and its third at 172 feet, all respectable distances for our novice team but far less than its two competitors. Eleven-year veteran team Sister Slingers launched its pumpkin 681 feet.

But fifth time entrant Team Athena’s pumpkin went the winning distance of 983 feet, a world record for the youth human powered division.

The Socket Monkey team was happy. All chunks were forward, none were disqualified, there was no machine breakage, and the pumpkin never “pied” (splattered in the air). With a few tweaks, who knows how far the Socket Monkey will be able to hurl a pumpkin next year?

According to its website, the WCPCA (World Championship Punkin Chunkin Association) “raises money for scholarships, as well as organizations that benefit youth and the local community.” The event will be televised on the Science Channel on Thanksgiving at 8 p.m.

Check out my next post for photos of some of the other bigger machines at the Punkin Chunkin.

Trip taken November 2012.

Hurricane Sandy West of Boston

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We hunkered down in our small town of Stow, 30 miles west of Boston, bracing for whatever Hurricane Sandy would bring. School was canceled. The kids were home. The cabinets were full of food and the basement with bottled water. (We have a well and if the electricity goes out, so does the water.) We replaced batteries in flashlights, did the laundry, and waited. It wasn’t until late afternoon that the winds picked up. We sat in our sunroom watching the big pine trees around our house bending over in the high winds, the sliding glass door bulging as the wind hit it just right. Pine branches flew past the windows on the first and second floors and rain pelted the glass.

When the lights finally did go out, we lit candles and started playing a game, but the power was only out for about 45 minutes.

Would school be canceled another day? My kids checked the school website continuously as erroneous postings on Facebook raised and lowered their hopes of another day at home. Finally, the school appeared on the list of closings but only for a delayed start. I wondered how anyone could make a decision before daylight. Five minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive, school was canceled for the day. Wires and trees were down, and roads were closed.

I left the kids at home and ventured out and down roads littered with leaves and debris.

Yellow and red leaves still clung to a few of the trees in spite of the powerful winds the night before.

I saw a few downed trees and fallen structures and took my turn at an intersection where the traffic lights didn’t work.

At home, I picked up branches and righted and replanted a small fallen tree. Halloween was canceled in our town for the second year in a row (last year we had snow!) and rescheduled for Sunday. But we’re not complaining. The storm changed path, and this time we were lucky.