Wish you were here!
I was raised to believe that a vacation was not really a vacation until you had purchased your obligatory T-shirt with the screen printed name of your current family-friendly locale likeWilliamsburg, Va, or Gettysburg, PA. I have personally taken time out of my childhood to agonize over whether or not I wanted the t-shirt with the canons and the sabers or the one with Abraham Lincoln with the Gettysburg Address scripted behind him.*
Seriously, this is what I had to work with. Totally uninspired.
I hate that I love tacky souvenir shops. I can’t get enough of them, I personally blame my upbringing (another thing that I hate/love to do). Like millions of Americans, I was raised to believe that a vacation was not really a vacation until you had purchased your obligatory T-shirt with the screen printed (embroidered if you could afford it) name of your current family-friendly vacation locale like Williamsburg, Virginia or Gettysburg Pennsylvania. I have personally taken time out of my life, to agonize over whether or not I wanted the t-shirt with the canons and sabers or the one with Abraham Lincoln with the Gettysburg Address scripted behind him.*
I hate/love the shelves filled with seashell encrusted jewelry boxes, ridiculously expensive coffee table books, and the little personalized license plates on the spin rack by checkout that never have my name (They always spell it with a “Y”. Bastards.). But what I really love are postcards– but not just postcards: vintage-style, overpriced postcards. Sometimes, I don’t even send them. I keep them in a repurposed shoebox next to my computer and periodically rifle through them like old photos. Here is my postcard from a luncheon dated 1925 from Longwood Gardens, Pennsylvania, tucked between my Vespa postcard from Naples, Italy and my Elvis postcard from a trip to Memphis complete, with his trademark recipe for Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwiches.
Imagine my disappointment then, when on a recent trip to Lake Placid, I discovered that my beloved tacky souvenir shops were either out of my vintage-style, overpriced postcards or didn’t sell them at all. I’ll save you the energy and tell you it was disproportionately comical:
- Maple sugar candy– check.
- 10 different varieties of New England Maple syrup– check.
- Elk beef jerky– check.
- Sweatshirts, tote-bags, and baseball caps with the words “Miracle” or “Hockey” stiched on them– checkcheckCHECK! Where the hell are my postcards???
Long story short– they didn’t have any. So I created my own, I am industrious that way. Now, I know I didn’t reinvent the wheel here, but I found myself really enjoying the process of creating postcards that were inspired by my own photography and I'm pretty happy with how they turned out. Especially taking into account that I am not an illustrator and practically have no game when it comes to free-hand drawing. But give me a pen tool in Adobe Illustrator and I can trace in the top 60% percentile. Yeah, that’s selling it.
In any case, I hope you enjoy them as much as I did making them!
*You can’t go wrong with Abraham Lincoln.
This my finished postcard of the most photographed barn in the Adirondacks, or so I'm told.
Again with the finished product. I took advantage of the format and moved the people to the left to make a better composition.
My original. A little bit more beat-up by the elements she's got personality to spare.
My inspiration. You can skate around the entire perimeter or the lake which I think is awesome.
What Novice Hikers Should Know for Winter Hiking
I always thought I enjoyed hiking until I went hiking with an actual hiker. Turns out, I enjoyed leisurely paced walks in the woods. I can personally attest that's there’s no better place to learn that distinction than on a trail, half-way up a mountain, in the Adirondacks.
It was my first trip to ADK region, wearing snowshoes, and hiking in the winter. As such, I set my expectations low. I only hoped that the temperature (and wind chill) would remain above zero and that I not fall off something and break my leg or impale myself on a submerged tree. That was it.
Without further ado, I present you with my top 10 list of what novice hikers should know for hiking in the winter:
1. It costs a lot of money. Gone are the days that I assumed you could put on sweatpants underneath a pair of snow-pants and be on your way. Among many, many other things, I had to buy or procure winter hiking boots, sub-layers, shed-able layers, water-resistant layers, and a super, light-weight down jacket (which, quite frankly, is the best thing I have ever bought, ever). I also bought a fleece hat from Colorado, socks with a life-time guarantee from Vermont, and I now have the intense desire to get expedition mittens with the word "Arctic" stitched on them.
2. It’s all relative. We chose Hopkins Mountain via Mossy Cascade for my first hike which is about six miles round trip, has an elevation of 3183 ft, and has an ascent of 2120 ft. This particular trail was described to me as a “nice walk outdoors.” And it is-- if you are a seasoned hiker, if you are in shape, and if you’re comparing it to the high peaks in the Adirondacks like Marcy, Algonquin, or Colden. Not so much if your average workout routine consists of taking the stairs at work.
3. One mile translates roughly into an hour on the trail. That’s a hard truth. Factor in time for adjusting your pack, water breaks, bathroom breaks, and "I don't want to do this anymore" break-downs and one mile stretches into forever.
4. There is a strategy for everything. There is the “Layering” strategy and the “If Terri breaks her leg” strategy. There is even a “If we get attacked by a bear” strategy. Although frankly, there were moments on the trail that if we had seen a bear, my strategy would have been to just let him eat me.
5. Visualizing hamburgers isn’t as motivating as you think. Especially when you’re nauseous. Hiking, like any sport, is a mental game and sadly, one that I have lost long ago. While it’s helpful to try and distract yourself by thinking of work, or movies, or how beautiful your surroundings are, the only thing you can actually think of is what the respectable amount of time would be before you ask for another break.
6. Truth Confirmed: The gym is a waste of money. Sure, the suburban girl workout of 30 minutes of cardio and light circuit training is terrific for burning off the calories from last night’s happy hour. And yes, I can carry all of my groceries into the house in one trip. But climbing mountains? Forget it.
7. Your body will turn against you. I have never generated more mucus and snot in my life. Furthermore, it was super hard to hold a tissue with the frozen fish-sticks of pain that were once my fingers while on the trail (See my intense desire for expedition mittens with the word "Arctic" stitched on them). On the upside, if I had gotten lost in the woods, my partner would have been able to locate me based on my incessant sniffling and accompanying "ewwws".
8. Your goal should be to be chilly. Seriously. The labels on my new hiking apparel made a lot of promises about wicking away sweat, quick-drying, and being odor resistant, but at no point did it promise to keep me warm. *Hint hint. If you are slightly cold while hiking in the winter, then you won't sweat excessively, become hypothermic, and die. Physical discomfort = alive.
9. You will spend about 5 minutes on the summit. Honestly, by the time I made it to the summit, I did not care. The relief of not having to climb anymore was tantamount to any view that could have been offered. We stayed long enough so that I could sit down (yesyesyes!) and put on my super warm, comfy jacket (I can not say this enought, best purchase ever).
10. You will actually kind-of enjoy yourself. I mean, it’s definitely in the "I'm glad it's over" kind of way, but nonetheless, it is still a vast improvement over any kind of gym work-out. And I will say this for winter hiking, there aren’t any bugs. This is a major draw if you’re anything like me and the idea of persistent flies freak you out.*
*But if you really think about it, the bugs are still screwing you over, because you have resorted to hiking when all is dead and frozen to avoid them.