A Winter Trip to Vermont

Sunrise in the Green Mountains

Sunrise in the Green Mountains

Our family took a nice break from work and headed north to Vermont. There are plenty of big, industrial northern cities, in the US, Europe, Russia, and Asia where they deal with cold and snow very well. Take Minneapolis, for example. Subzero temperatures, cold fronts, snow drifts, and frozen lakes and rivers just means you use an electric warmer for your car’s engine block, you have a snow blower, the streets are regularly cleared, and the tough UPS guys still wear shorts, although they wear snow boots. Russians almost don’t know what warm weather is like. Swedes and Norwegians, and particularly Finns act completely nonplussed going about their lives in the cold north. But in Vermont, snow, ice and a long, protracted winter are somehow different, in my mind, probably because I go there to enjoy myself, not to work.

There are more dairy cows per people in Vermont than any other state. So, naturally, milk, cream, butter, cheese and of course, Ben and Jerry’s ice cream taste wonderful. We once visited a dairy farm in northern Vermont in February. The farmer’s son showed us around, taking great pride in pointing out how happy the cows were in the long dairy barn, how clean the milking equipment was, and how equally clean the cows were. And he was quite right. His cows’ milk was used to make Cabot cheese, produced in Cabot, VT, as you might have guessed.  One of the pleasures of visiting Vermont is enjoying the local products such as artisinal cheeses which are hard to get outside the state.  Each year we go to Vermont, we are sure to bring home a gallon of Vermont maple syrup.  Kept in our basement, it lasts for a year, and is very tasty.  It is fun, knowing it came from the trees in the woods where we were staying.

Interior of condo in Okemo.

Warm and comfortable condo high up Okemo Mountain.

We stayed in a lovely four bedroom condo high up Okemo Mountain, along the Sachem Trail. Two of our three grown children, a friend of ours, Lynn, from Philadelphia, and my college friend Keith and his wife Lisa stayed with my wife and me. We made some truly great meals, had some very nice Vermont beers, some excellent wines we brought with us, and thoroughly enjoyed the condo, especially the fireplace.

Eating area and kitchen.

Lynn, who cooked the first dinner, a delicious chicken stew, observes breakfast in the making.

Carrying wood in for the fire.

To be fair, my son did offer to carry the wood. On the other hand, my wife does Brazilian Jiujitsu, so this was her opportunity to get a little lifting in.

This year, fortunately, the snow gods smiled on Vermont, and laid down some real snow. It’s just not the same skiing on the man-made snow, although it will do if necessary. Recognizing that it is not, perhaps, as eco-friendly as one would like, to make snow so skiers can ski on it, the resorts do their best to adhere to ecologically sound practices. Without snow to ski on, the skiers would stay away, which would seriously affect the economy of the communities who rely on the ski resorts for their livelihoods.

Getting out to the ski slopes was very convenient.  We walked about one hundred yards, climbed up a little hill, clipped in and skied.  My kids, Craig and Katie, snowboarded.  While conditions were not the greatest, they were far from the worst, and we were able to get in several days of fine shushing and carving.

At the top of Sachem Trail.

Craig and Katie pose at the top of Sachem trail, were we got on the slopes from our condo.

Something that made this trip particularly special was getting to ski with Keith, my friend from college.  Keith introduced me to skiing about forty years ago, when we were at UCSD.  We went on a long bus ride from San Diego, to UCLA to pick up their ski club members, then on to Telluride, Colorado.  It was a memorable trip, not least for being able to learn how to ski.  My one prior experience was a weekend at Heavenly, at Lake Tahoe.  With too few funds to pay for lessons, and not knowing what I was doing, that was a big challenge.  But at Telluride, I was able to pick up some pointers from Keith, and with the fact of being young and able, I managed to learn to ski.  Since then, while never achieving the kind of graceful and skilled skiing of someone who learns as a child, I have become a devoted skier.  Keith and I don’t get to ski together too often, the last time being some time in the 1980’s.

Frank and his friend Keith at Okemo.

Keith and Frank at Okemo, Feb. 2013.

Skiing is an activity that the whole family can enjoy, no matter one’s age.  It is a little tough at first with young children, carrying their skis, supplying them with mittens, scarves and face protectors, and dealing with the frequent wintertime illnesses which always seem to hit the day one leaves for the mountains.  But, once they learn and become more independent, they love it.  Since they are grown, the family ski trip continues to be a way for us to get together and enjoy each others company.  My oldest daughter, away at graduate school, could not join us for this trip, but would have in a flash had her schedule allowed.

At the Waffle Cabin on the slopes at Okemo

Craig, awaiting a bit of sustenance in the form of a Belgian waffle.

Skiing is a way to embrace the cold and snowy days of winter, get outside and revel in it and work up an appetite for good winter food.  The dark comes quickly in the winter in the mountains, and that means gathering around the fire, reading, playing Scrabble, and even playing a little music, with chords and lyrics courtesy of the internet.

Craig and Frank playing guitar

Playing some Velvet Underground, Craig and Frank.  Photo by Katie.

Relating this all to running, I did bring my running shoes, and had planned to get in a run or two in the later afternoon.  What I found, though, was the road to our condo was narrow and icy, so it would have been dangerous to try running along it.  Instead, I just relaxed, knowing I wouldn’t miss a few days running, and just enjoyed being in Vermont.

California Trip

Arriving home late Sunday night one week ago, after my four days cycling in Vermont, I had a crammed schedule for three days at work, then I was on my way for another trip. This time, it was out to the coast, the other coast, the one where the sun sets over the Pacific, where palm trees are everywhere, and when running, hills play a major role. Having lived so long on the east coast, I get confused when I return to San Diego. It seems that east and west are reversed, and I must consciously think about which way it is towards the ocean. I took this trip to visit my daughter, who lives in the University Heights neighborhood, and to work on our family’s house in Poway, which we are maintaining and repairing to get it rented. I also planned to attend the fortieth reunion of my high school graduation. Forty years seems to me a ridiculously long time ago.

I had not run for three days due to my need to recover from the cycling, but it was also a forced break due to the work schedule, and travel. So, on arrival in San Diego, I was eager to get out there and run again. I landed in San Diego late Wednesday night, with my daughter Audrey and her boyfriend Evan there to greet me. I wanted to get in a ten miler as a start, so I looked at the map with Audrey and planned my route. On previous trips I ran around Balboa Park and back to her apartment, a five mile route. So, to add another five miles I added a loop from Balboa Park down to Harbor Drive, out to Harbor Island and then back. The next morning, after a quick breakfast of raisin bran, I headed out for my run. As practice for Steamtown, this is a great route. After about a mile of gentle rolling hills, it goes in and out of a canyon in Balboa Park, for a sharp descent and a steep climb. It levels for a bit around the park, then turns down to Harbor Drive dropping several hundred feet over a mile or so which really stresses the quads. Along Harbor Drive is a multi-use paved path which passes by a coast guard facility and the airport, and is completely flat. Once I hit five miles (plus a little extra, to be sure) on the trusty Garmin, I turned around and did the return trip. I took basically the same route, except went down El Prado in Balboa Park, past the museums, the Spreckles Organ Pavilion, and the Old Globe Theater to the other side of the park and made my way back. The climb back up from Harbor Drive to the park is a real beast, seemingly unending and very steep. Once at the park, though, it is a relatively easy run back to the start. I got in my ten miles, and it felt alright, though the quads had suffered, especially on the downhill segments. My average pace was about 8:54. The rest of the day was pure vacation. We spent two hours at Ocean Beach. Audrey and Evan played Frisbee and went swimming, while I was content to sit on a folding chair, taking in rays, and reading a book. Later, Audrey and I went shopping at Horton Plaza in San Diego. When I was in high school, Horton Plaza was where the navy and army recruits got into fights and went to massage parlors. Now, it is an upscale shopping area, with elegant stores and restaurants. In fact, the whole downtown area of San Diego has been upgraded, and we saw many tourists and locals making for a busy scene. That night, Audrey and I ate out at a sushi restaurant within walking distance of her apartment.

The following day, we planned to go out to Poway to work on the house. I ran the shorter route that morning, the five mile loop around Balboa Park, which still includes the canyon for a steep descent and climb, ever thinking of the Steamtown profile. Again, my pace was around 8:55, still feeling sore quads from the day before. We drove up to Poway, and spent about five hours on the house, repairing a split rail fence around the property which had gotten dilapidated and was falling over in many places. The house looks better than it has looked in a long time, with help from Ray the landscape guy, and Audrey and Evan’s impressive efforts. After the fence work, taking down some overgrown bushes, and installing a new light in a bedroom, we took ten minutes to jump in the pool before we had to head back to get Evan to work. The pool is being cared for by a pool service, so it was clean and felt great. That night, Audrey and I put together a pasta dinner with “home made” sausages from her local Sprouts supermarket. Sprouts is a very health-oriented grocery store, with mostly organic and locally grown foods.

PowaySplitRail

Evan and Frank and the Improved Fence

PowayPool
Frank cools off in the pool.

The following day, Saturday, I was feeling good, and wanted to run another ten miler. I did essentially the same route as on Thursday, except on reaching Harbor Drive I turned left instead of right. This brought me past the sailboats docked in the harbor, the Maritime Museum of SD with it’s historic sailing ships, and the USS Midway, an aircraft carrier launched the 20th of March, 1945. After service in Viet Nam and Operation Desert Storm, with many missions in-between, she is permanently docked in San Diego as a museum. The last stretch along Harbor Drive reached Seaport Village, a collection of cutesy shops and theme restaurants, built for the nearby convention center and hotels. With the large number of tourists walking the cobbled paths, and the enviable weather of San Diego, it is no surprise that innumerable homeless denizens call this area “home”. On a historical note, this village is built on landfill over Punta de los Muertos, burial site of sailors from Spanish expeditions of the mid 1700’s, many of whom died of scurvy. Again turning around at the five mile mark, I headed back to the climb up Laurel Street, past Solar Turbine Corp. and the leading edge of the airport runway, under “the 5” as Interstate 5 is known in California, and up the incline to Balboa Park. Then it was over “Suicide Bridge”, the bridge over the Cabrillo Freeway. Apparently, suicides there were popular until the Coronado Bridge was opened in 1969. Contrary to this theme, I was feeling strong and upbeat, and managed to keep a good pace right up to the finish, around 8:35 average for the ten miles.

After the run, I got my hair cut at Axle Hair Labor by Jackie. I mention this because this place epitomizes west coast vibe. Jackie was very nice and did a great job with what hair I have. We then headed out to Ramona, to the Milagro Farm Vineyards and Winery where my daughter is the marketing manager. It is a beautiful winery on a rocky hillside, surrounded by mountains. It’s owner, Kit, and his winemaker, Jim, create wines equal in my mind to some of the better Napa wineries. I realize I may be biased, but trying to be objective, I was very impressed. I got a tour of the vineyards, learned how to measure sugar content of the grapes and when to pick, and tasted their wines in their nicely appointed tasting room.

Hummingbird

Hummingbird at Milagro Farms

AudreywithVines
Audrey and Sangiovese Grapes at Milagro Farms

That evening, I had tickets to attend my fortieth high school reunion, as I mentioned. Having only attended Poway H.S. for two years, being in Scottsdale, AZ, for my first two years, I did not grow up with these folks, and I did not feel I knew them very well, or that they would even remember me. With that thought process, I decided to skip the reunion and instead spend the last night of my trip going out to dinner with Audrey and Evan. We went to a tiny restaurant called The Farm House Cafe, on Adams Street. We talked, ate delicious provincial French fare, had good wine and beer, and it was to me much more valuable than the reunion possibly could have been.

The next day, back on the plane, I flew back to Philadelphia, thinking wistfully of the last two weeks spent cycling in Vermont, running in San Diego, and generally enjoying myself.

Frank

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