Archive for the 'Trips' Category

We wish you could all have been here this morning as another spectacular summer day dawned on Lower Baker. It was hard to imagine Pemi looking any more beautiful than it did last night after Taps, with a just-past-full moon washing the grounds in its velvet light. But shortly before Reveille this A.M., as we looked down on the pond from the hilltop, vertical wraiths of mist drifted down the still water on the slightest of breezes, translucent with the rising sun. Five or six feet in height, they could have been pilgrims wending their tranquil way towards some holy site. As it was, they vanished silently with the sun’s rising heat just as the boys broke from their cabins and charged into the lake for their Polar Bears. A mystical moment while it endured, and all the more so for its fleeting tenure.

As many of you know, our annual competition against Camp Tecumseh is renewed this Friday, and much of our energy this week has been going into preparations for that august day. Given the breadth of Pemi’s program, though, we haven’t abandoned music, art, nature, or trips. As we write, Jack Davini, Matt Fazekas, and Caleb Tempro are practicing piano in the Lodge, Dottie Reed is immersed in yet another Dyeing Wooly Critters occupation, and Deb Kure is enthralling yet another gaggle of our youngest campers in Junior Environmental Exploration. The Lake Tent and Lower Six have just trundled out of camp for a day trip up Mt. Cube (2800 feet), and three overnights involving Juniors and Lowers will be summiting Mts. Cube , Cardigan (3200 feet), and Carrigain (4700 feet) as well. (Now there’s an alliterative array!) What better time, in fact, to scribe a newsletter about our Trip Program?

Pemi has always tried to offer campers activities they can’t necessarily pursue at home, and our prime location amidst New Hampshire’s White Mountains lets us offer a range of wilderness experiences that might be hard to come by during a boy’s school year. Our hiking options range from day jaunts on local peaks (like Cube!) to extended backpacking trips in the Franconia or Presidential Ranges, and even as far away as Mt. Katahdin, in Northern Maine. Among the highlights for older boys are overnight stays at the high mountain huts run by the Appalachian Mountain Club, located at or above tree-line in spectacular alpine settings. Many a Pemi boy has consolidated his love for the high peaks at these rustic hostelries, watching the sunset with his mates following a hearty and delicious meal, then ducking back to the hut for a game of cards and a cup of hot chocolate before lights out. Outings closer to home include overnights at the Adirondack shelter on Pemi Hill directly behind camp (there’s one tonight for Upper Two!), or a paddle by canoe or kayak across the lake for supper at one of our sylvan cook-out spots (two tonight, for Junior One and Lower One!) We also run a number of paddling trips on local rivers, but the capstone of the Pemi canoeing program is the annual trip to the Allagash Waterway in Maine, where eight or ten of our seniors spend four days on remote and unspoiled lakes and rivers where they’re more likely to see moose grazing on the flora along the shore than encounter fellow travelers of a human sort.

We think that the trip program represents a crucial aspect of the broad Pemi program. Boys learn to reap the rewards of sustained effort in what can sometimes be demanding conditions. They learn the benefits of advanced planning as they organize gear and supplies for what can be days away from civilization. They learn a different kind of teamwork than they witness on the athletic field, including collective decision making skills and a sense of responsibility for the welfare and happiness of the entire group. And they also learn to appreciate both the power and the fragility of their natural environment, becoming wiser and more ecologically responsible in the process. Year after year, Pemi alumni tell us that the time they spent in the White Mountains was one of the most life-enhancing components of their camp experience.

This has all been pretty abstract. Let’s dip into specifics with accounts of recent Pemi outings penned by the participants themselves. First comes the record of Upper Four’s overnight at Greenleaf Hut in Week Three, as recalled by Abby Reed, Co-head of the Junior Camp who leapt at the chance to go on what is one of the very best of our mountain offerings. The second comes from Lake Tent denizens Mason Challinor, Teddy Gales, and Nick Barber, recently back from that banner Allagash expedition mentioned above. Abby’s account is fairly straightforward. The other is, well, rather Bean Soup, filtered through the inventive brains of some of our oldest and most spirited campers. Enjoy!

First from Abby: On July 14, 2010, the first-session members of Upper Four (plus a few lucky staff tag-ons) embarked upon the Old Bridle Path, a trail snaking up into the Franconia Range of the White Mountains. Our destination was the Greenleaf Appalachian Mountain Club Hut, a high-altitude hostel perched on the shoulder of Mt. Lafayette (5,260 ft.). Encouraged by the prospect of good company and a hearty, home-cooked meal at the hut, we began hiking in the early afternoon, led by U-4 counselor Sam Seymour. Following him were campers Brendon Armitage, Sam Davitt, Max Livingstone-Peters, Danny Murphy, Ben Nicholas, Carl Pohlman, Zach Popkin, and Nate Williams, as well as BUNACer Nick Ridley (counselor of many of the boys during the 2009 summer) and me. As we gained altitude, the warm deciduous forest gave way to the smaller flora of the slightly chillier subalpine zone. Our collective breath was taken away by the first real view, on a rocky outcrop affording a spectacular panorama of the ridgeline we were to traverse the following day. Although the very top of the ridge was shrouded in clouds, the view gave us a real sense of the altitude we had gained and the ground we would cover come tomorrow.

After one more hour of steady hiking, we emerged from the alpine treeline into a rocky clearing commanded by the sturdy Greenleaf Hut. While certainly not luxurious—no hot showers or turn-down service here—Greenleaf is spacious, clean, and comfortable, boasting a large kitchen/dining area with four long tables and spectacular views of mile-high Mt. Lafayette. Flanking this communal space are three rustic but comfortable bunkrooms (each bunk with a pillow and three wool blankets) and two basic bathrooms, complete with composting toilets and cold running water. Not bad for an inn so high that it’s literally in the clouds!

After claiming their bunks, the Pemi boys offered their assistance to the hut Croo and set the tables for dinner. Afterwards, we headed back outside to listen to the hut naturalist explain the ins-and-outs of maintaining a high-altitude hostelry. Among the hut’s distinctive features are its solar panels, wind turbine, and composting toilets, all of which decrease the hut’s reliance on propane. As the naturalist explained measures taken to deter an over-inquisitive black bear from the hut’s compost heap, we all appreciated the challenges posed by running an altitudinous B&B far from the conventional comforts of civilization.

By 6 o’clock, our stomachs were starting to grumble and we gratefully sat down to a hearty dinner prepared by the Croo chef. Along with the other hut patrons, we feasted on curried lentil soup, salad with homemade dressing, bread fresh from the oven, honey-baked ham, rice, and veggies. A quick rain shower passed through as we ate, but the sun came out just in time for dessert (fudge bars), bringing a vibrant rainbow with it. After dinner, several of our group walked to a nearby rocky lookout to watch the sun set over the valley, and many took advantage of the hut’s small retail shop to purchase synthetic Greenleaf t-shirts as souvenirs (and as extra layers for the next day’s breezy summits). After playing a few card games and writing a group entry in the hut log book, we headed to bed, pleasantly full and sleepy.

We woke at 6:30 the following morning to a song performed by a Croo member, and sat down at 7 to a hearty breakfast. Afterwards, two of the Croo performed a silly but informative skit instructing us in the proper way to fold our wool blankets in preparation for the next patron. The weather was sunny and clear, and after packing up our gear, we began the day’s hike. The first mile was a rocky scramble up the shoulder of Lafayette, and we were rewarded for our efforts with a spectacular 360-degree view of the White Mountains from the summit, including the verdant Pemigewassett Wilderness to the east. After snapping a few photos, we continued on our way along the Franconia Ridge, which, as it coincides with the Appalachian Trail, afforded us a chance to chat in passing with thru-hikers and casual “goofers” alike. As the morning progressed, the trail led us into and above fleecy white clouds, and we summitted Mt. Lincoln and Little Haystack in quick succession.

Then, after hiking a solid five miles, we found ourselves at the top of Mt. Liberty. With yet another 360-degree view unfolding around us, we sat down together and enjoyed a traditional trail lunch of pepperoni, cheese, crackers, carrots, raisins, and cookies. With an entertaining story from Nick Ridley to send us on our way, we embarked on the last segment of the trip, a challenging 2.5 mile downhill stretch that brought us back down into the valley. We returned to camp proud of our efforts, with memories of great views, great weather, and great company to sustain us throughout the winter months.

Now for Mason, Teddy, and Nick’s account of the Allagsh trip, led by Pemi veteran staff members Andy Kirk and Noble Macfarlane:

Maine… the final frontier…  This is the voyage of the canoe trip: Pemi.  Our 5-day mission, to explore new waterways, to seek out new wildlife, to boldly go where few campers have gone before.

Star date 7/19/10: Captain Andrew Tiberius Kirk leads an inexperienced crew of 10 into the Maine Wilderness.  After discovering that a U-Haul trailer nullifies the ability to achieve warp speed, the crew began a grueling journey into the unknown.  Ten hours, several bacon, egg, and cheese bagels, and a posse of five-dollar foot longs later, the crew had arrived in what can only be described as Moose Country.  Chief Navigator Andy Kradjel’s intense desire to see “meese” drove him into an uncharacteristic fit of anxiety, which ironically prevented him from seeing the first four moose the crew actually  encountered.  After a meal of herbivoric food made by resident Vulcan Noble MacFarlane, the crew fell asleep.

Star date 7/20/10: The crew awoke the next morning and promptly put into the river.  Chief Navigator Kradjel, overcome with excitement, was no match for the foot-tall rocks of the Chase Rapids.  After turning the canoe back over, Andy and his damp companion were able to catch up with the rest of the crew and join them at Long Lake.  One hour into the trek across the lake the crew spotted their first moose of the day.  Resident dare devils Ritter and Levi managed to get within ten feet of the beast before returning to the rest of the group.  That evening the crew replenished their bodies with the delicacy known as mac and cheese and quickly returned to their resting pads for some much needed sleep.

Star date 7/21/10

The crew awoke to the scent of boiled oats and dehydrated fruits.  After a quick packing check the crew was off for their longest trek of the journey – 24 miles.  The day began with a rhythm of both excitement and good cheer as four more moose were spotted along the riverbanks.   But the good cheer would come to an end when a torrential rainstorm dumped gallons of water on what would have been dry clothes.  But all was not lost for the rain soon stopped and after a meal of oversized burritos, the crew returned to their quarters for some R and R.

Star date 7/22/10

The fourth day of the trip started as an extremely uneventful day for the crew only encountering one moose and going over very few rapids.  The men were getting restless and needed some fun, luckily a water fall and countless hours of swimming revitalized the crew enough to get to the final campsite where they are like kings and played hours of Frisbee.

Star date 7/23/10

The men of Pemi finally reached the end of the river at 8:30am that day and began the long journey home.

All in all it was an unforgettable trip.  Final count 11 moose, 9 bald eagles and 2 rabbits.  Thank you Andy and Noble for this amazing experience.

Finally, let me confess that I leapt at the chance to drive one of yesterday’s trips to the trailhead – at the base of Mt. Carrigain in the middle of the Pemigewassett Wilderness. Amidst the preparations for Tecumseh, it didn’t “fill,” but we decided to send it anyway. As a result, the staff/camper ration was remarkable – basically 1 to 1, as Trip Leader Hester Tittman, AC Matt Casey, and former staff member Dan Reed teamed up to supervise Tommy Witkop, Nick Bertrand, and Sparky Brown. The ride to the trail lasted over an hour and a half, as we wound our way over the shoulder of Mt. Moosilauke, the gorgeous Kancamagus Highway, and the Bear Notch Road before heading North into Crawford Notch and west up the Sawyer River. No sooner had seatbelts been buckled than Sparky proposed a word-guessing game that kept us all rapt until we rumbled across a backcountry bridge into the parking lot. You may know it. I didn’t. Someone comes up with a word (say, “elephant” — no proper nouns) and reveals its first letter (“e”) and the others attempt to guess what it is. “Is it a purple vegetable?” If the “word-holder” can say “No, it’s not an eggplant,” he’s safe. If he can’t think of a purple vegetable, ANY purple vegetable, beginning with an “e” – and others can – one of the guessers says “Contact,” and then counts to three. On three, if anyone else in the group of guessers also says (in this case) “eggplant,” the word-holder has to reveal another letter of the word. And so it goes, until the word is guessed – and the guesser comes up with the next challenge.

Maybe you had to be there, but the energy and laughter and merriment that filled the van for 90 minutes were amazing, and time honestly flew. It’s hard to recall a time that more fully epitomized the cliché “Fun for young and old.” I have to say that, once everyone had hopped out of their seats and shouldered their packs and started up the road towards the trailhead, it was all I could do not to lock the van and tramp right off into the cool woods along with them, ill-prepared as I would have been. On the best of trips, the rapport we had enjoyed begins to develop a day or so in, as logged miles and rest stops and meals shared around a campfire begin to work their magic. This time, it was all there from the start. Given the majesty of the mountain they’re climbing today – set in the very center of a mammoth circle of 4000-foot peaks – it’s hard to imagine the heights of camaraderie they will achieve. We should all be so fortunate. More mystical moments – the lasting stuff of life-long memories.

– Tom Reed, Jr.

27 July 2010

Of all the traditions at Pemi, the one with the strangest name is called the “dope stop.” For those unfamiliar with this term, let me first assure the curious reader that there is absolutely nothing drug-related about this tradition: “dope” is old New England slang for soda. (Al Fauver hypothesizes that the word “dope” sounds similar to “Coke,” and may be where the term originated.)

I’ve written here before about Pemi’s wonderful trip program, in which hiking trips leave nearly daily from Pemi to explore the White Mountains. Campers return from these trips usually tired and exhilarated at the same time—but that sense of exhilaration can come both from having completed a great foray into the woods, and from the special treat that comes at the end: the dope stop, when boys have the chance to run into a store and buy candy and a soda. When you’ve gone all summer at Pemi with none of that sugary stuff, it’s a big deal indeed.

I called up Al Fauver recently to ask him about his earliest memories of dope stops. “I was a kid at camp in the twenties and it was well established by that time,” he said.

But while it’s a tradition that dates back to the beginnings of camp, the first version of the dope stop involved home-cooked food, as part of a trip to Mt. Cube.

“We used to walk all the way from camp, on up to the foot of the trail,” Al said. “On the way up that long hill was the Pease Farm, and we would stop there and order blueberry pie to eat on the way down. They’d have milk, and half a pie per person.”

“She would bake them as we were climbing the mountain and they would be all ready for us, all warm, and the milk, and the sweet blueberry pie, it was great,” he said. The blueberries were, of course, local. “They picked them right in the back fields.”

Today, the dope stop is slightly less bucolic. Here’s how it works: The van or bus stops at a gas station or shop somewhere between the mountains and camp. The campers, in their sweat-stained t-shirts and shorts, hiking boots most likely still on, emerge from the vehicle, bedazzled by the prospect of getting to go into a store and buy something. One counselor supervises the van, while the other runs the operation inside the store. In pairs or in threes the campers wander the aisles. Quick! What to get? So many choices! Milky Way or Skittles? Coke or Gatorade? These are life’s tough decisions.

And decide they must, as time is limited. (As is the money they can spend, which is limited to roughly $2 per camper.) Famously, a legendary trip counselor named Reilly McCue gave campers something like 30 seconds each to make their decisions; that has since been relaxed somewhat. How would you spend your $2? For each camper, that’s a decision they ruminate on throughout the hike, and then, in a bewildering moment among store racks and coolers, must choose. It’s a long way from the simplicity and elegance of blueberry pie at the Pease Farm.

Most campers, of course, opt for the classic combination of a candy bar and a soda. But there have been notable exceptions, when campers chose to be unorthodox. Jackson Reed once used a quarter to buy air—yes, air—from the compressor outside the store intended for topping off tires. It was a hot summer day, and he used the pressurized air to cool himself down. Bill Pruden once used his money to buy an apple—and a copy of The New York Times. And last summer a Junior camper, Kevin Lewis, bought a cucumber!

The campers have to finish their goodies before arrival back at camp, and soda size is limited. The campers usually hurry to finish their loot, as it can’t be taken back to the cabins. The trash is thrown away; the cans and bottles are recycled. Gone are the days when each camper got his own half of a freshly-baked blueberry pie, but with that tradition pretty far gone from camp’s institutional memory, today’s campers seem perfectly happy with the modern dope stop ritual.

–Rob Verger

Upper 2 on the summit of South Twin. July, 2008.

A Pemi day has a great, busy rhythm to it. But one of the most rewarding parts of the camp season comes when that routine is replaced by a trip into the mountains, whether it be a quick scramble up to the bald, brisk summit of Pemi’s neighbor, Mt. Cube, or a four-day trip through the Franconia Range.

Pemi has a long tradition of taking trips into the woods—the Appalachian Trail even cuts through a corner of camp property—and it’s always been one of my favorite parts of the camp experience. I can still clearly picture sitting on the warm rocks of a White Mountain summit on a Pemi trip, taking a sip from a water bottle and refueling with cheese and crackers. As both a camper and later, a trip counselor, I hiked up countless White Mountain trails.

Mountains in the Whites offer striking environmental contrasts. At the lower altitudes, just a few minutes away from the trailhead, the forests are quiet and stream-filled, and clusters of Goose Foot Maples line the trail. From there the trail usually steepens, and the group might become quieter as the climbing begins up a packed-dirt and rocky trail. As you gain altitude, the trees generally transition from deciduous to coniferous, and just below the tree line, the trees are usually compact, sturdy little evergreens. Then there are the summits and ridgelines of the Whites: these are breezy places where on a sunny day in the summer everything is warm and wide open and expansive: if the visibility it good, you can see for miles, with rolling mountain ranges receding into the distance. And when it’s windy or stormy on these ridges, you feel grateful you packed a bomb-proof jacket.

Things change on trips. Far from the comforts of camp, Pemi boys are challenged on the trails, and are spurred out of their daily routines into a new world. Boys on trips find themselves tested, in a good way. You carry your own water, and learn to take care of the needs of your body. If it’s raining, you use your rain jacket, and cover your pack with a pack fly, or line it with trash bags, or both. You learn the importance of keeping your sleeping back dry. At night, the trip counselor and the assistant counselor cook food over a WhisperLite stove, which produces a comforting little roar and an efficient blue flame. Dinner might be macaroni and cheese with tuna, which I think is delicious (but hunger is the best sauce). At night, you sleep in a tent, just a sleeping bag and pad and tent floor between you and the earth. Breakfast might be instant oatmeal, eaten quickly before hitting the trail.

With all these changes in routine and environment, hiking trips can be some of the most memorable experiences a boy will have during a season at camp: while days at Pemi blur together happily, trips have a way of drawing out the day and becoming bigger, more luminous experiences. Conversations on the trail and jokes over supper become all the more memorable, because there are no other distractions. Even your thoughts might seem stronger, more focused, in the woods and on the trail.

I have plenty of vivid images in my head from Pemi trips: dipping a Nalgene bottle into a cold stream and then dropping an iodine tablet in it to purify the water; eating dinner out of a plastic cup and then later eating oatmeal out of the same cup the next morning. Or, as a counselor, waiting until all the campers are in their tents at bedtime, and then making the rounds once more, double-checking that the tents are pitched properly and will stay dry in a storm, tightening the stays and stakes, saying goodnight to each group of kids.

Then there’s perhaps the sweetest part of the trip: emerging out of the woods and then hopping in the van or bus to go back to Pemi, and stopping on the way back for rare treat: candy and a soda. Rolling back over that bridge, coming back into Pemi, even just from a day trip, might be the best feeling of all: it’s a feeling of coming home after an adventure.

My experiences on trips with Pemi were incredibly formative in producing who I am today. What memories do you have? If you went on trips as a camper at Pemi, or led them as a counselor, what was the experience like?

-Rob Verger

The Pemi West group in 2006 in Olympic National Park. From left to right, back row: Christina Demetro, Daniel Pfeffer, Duncan Fisher, Jamie Andrews, Tim Billo, Emily Blackmer, and Hayley Daniell. Front row: Matt DeCaro, Corey Fauver, Anne Carman.

In 1997, when I was 18, I traveled out to Crested Butte, Colorado, to take part in Pemi West’s inaugural season. We had a base camp at 10,000 feet in the Maroon Bells, and spent almost a month living in the mountains. I still have vivid images in my mind from that summer—the tall conifers that surrounded the base camp, the fields of wildflowers we hiked through, the drama of the vast, snowy mountains that were our home. And the Pemi spirit, so distinctive in New Hampshire, was with us out in the Rockies.

The next summer, after my first year of college, I returned to Pemi in New Hampshire and worked as a trip counselor for the summer in the White Mountains. (We’ll have more about the trip program at Pemi in New Hampshire in a forthcoming item here.) Then, in the summer of 1999, I traveled back out to Colorado to work as a staff trip leader for Pemi West, co-leading a group with Scott Morgan.

Pemi West in 2006.

My two summers out in Colorado built upon a love of hiking and the outdoors that I’d been nurturing for a long time, and vastly improved my technical skills and sense of confidence and independence in the wilderness, to boot. In college, I was a Mountain Club guide, and later, the president of the Mountain Club, and the fact that I arrived at Middlebury and felt ready to tackle anything in the outdoors has a lot to do with my training both at Pemi West and with Pemi in New Hampshire.

Since 2005, Pemi West has been located in Olympic National Park in Washington State. When I asked Pemi West Director Tim Billo to tell me some about the current program, he wrote:

“This setting offers all the challenge and beauty of Colorado, but also offers a superior wilderness experience. With one million contiguous acres of federally designated wilderness, Olympic National Park is one of the largest road-less areas in the Lower 48. It offers an unparalleled trail system, as well as extremely remote and challenging off-trail travel. Though the elevations are less lofty than Colorado, the Olympic Mountains have all the characteristics of some of the world’s highest peaks, including some of the largest ice fields in the Lower 48. Lower elevations have the added advantage of eliminating time spent for acclimatization. Pemi West is a great place to join your old Pemi friends on an adventure that will teach you how to become completely self-sufficient in any rugged mountain wilderness. The trip traverses some of the many distinct ecosystems that Olympic National Park encompasses, from temperate rainforest, to ocean beach, to alpine meadow, and glaciated peaks. Glacier travel is an awesome bonus experience in the Olympics that was not available in Colorado. Navigating the rivers of ice on Olympus, while roped to your teammates, is an unforgettable experience, and a skill needed for mountaineering in all of the world’s great ranges. To prevent the need for returning to civilization, and to lighten packs for a day or two, Pemi West in the Olympics also takes advantage of a backcountry re-supply by llama.”

(That last detail makes me jealous. We didn’t have llamas in Colorado.)

Find more information on the features and history of Pemi West, and information on how to apply. (Note that this year’s program is a two-week course, as opposed to the usual three weeks. The shorter course will cover all of the same skills in a more compact, but equally intense wilderness experience.)

The ranks of Pemi West alumni are constantly getting bigger, and there is usually a good number of people who participate in Pemi West as a camper or leader and then migrate back to Pemi in New Hampshire, their teeth cut on the bigger mountains out west. Some have moved on to work for other organizations, or have led gnarly personal trips of their own. If you’ve been a part of Pemi West, either in Colorado or Washington, what was the experience like? Did you come back to Pemi in New Hampshire and join the trip program, or was it “just” a once-in-a-lifetime experience for you?

-Rob Verger