A Walk on the Outer Cape

We arrived on Saturday of the long holiday weekend. (It was also Valentine's Day weekend.) Because of this it was a bit more crowded than I expected on the Outer Cape. But once Monday rolled around it quieted down. And it's not like Atti and I are spending time in the popular downtown hot spots - we've not even been downtown other than to drive through it - even though we are renting a place right in the beautiful West End just a few houses up from Commercial Street. We're either spending our time in the condo, the beaches or along the bike path which loops through some remarkable scenery and has access to both Race Point and Herring Cove. After a little exploration I found a way to turn the five mile loop we've been walking into an eight mile circuit and today we enjoyed the entire eight miles in splendid isolation. It's just what the doctor ordered.

And today, graced with a dusting of snow, we enjoyed the longer loop, which included a lengthy stay at the breezy beach on Race Point. With the help of Josephine Baker I put together a slide show. You can see it here.

"Little Buddha" Sits with the Sea

Today we cobbled together various sections of the Provincetown bike path to create an 8-mile loop through the dunes. We started at Herring Cove, made our way over to Race Point and an hour long visit sitting on the breezy dunes watching the ocean, towards the Beech Forest and then headed back to Herring Cove.

The loop offers a little bit of everything (woods, ponds, dunes, ocean views, wonderful twisted pine trees) and the rolling hills offer a great walking workout. It was made all the prettier by a little fresh snow here and there.

When we reached Race Point it was windy but that did not deter Atticus from his 'little Buddha' sitting. (Notice his ears in the photo.) I didn't time him but he was in front of me for about 20 minutes watching the waves crash and the water recede. I'm not sure what he sees or looks for when he's doing this but it's clear it's not just a mountaintop thing. It happens wherever he has a view. As for what he sees, Atticus had a follow up with Dr. Dan Biros at Angell last week and all is well with his eyes. This is evident not only in this photo but in the photos you'll see in the slide show that's about to be put up. Check out some of the close ups and the intensity of his gaze and you'd never guess he was once nearly completely blind.

You Think It's Easy Being A Writer?

You think it's easy being a writer? Try concentrating while this face is looking at you. He's bored because it's raining and we haven't been able to go for our usual five to six mile walk through the dunes. When it became clear cuteness was not cutting it he stood up and gave me a look that says, "Hello! Can you see me now?"

Oh, and by the way, he won. We're going for a drive so we can take a walk in the woods.

Herring Cove for Sunset

We started the day when a shock of pink sunlight flew in our bedroom window and lit up the loft. I got out of bed and saw the sun rising out of Cape Cod Bay and over the rooftops. It was a beautiful sight; a stunning way to start the day. We were soon out the door but there was no more sun. Instead clouds hung low and made the day seem dreary. And yet there was nothing dreary about our five mile walk along the bike path that loops through the dunes at the Cape Cod National Seashore. The rolling hills and the distance gave us a great work out. At one time we left the bike path and climbed up through the scrub pine and to the top of a dune. Here we sat looking out at the Atlantic Ocean laying beyond other layers of dunes.

After our walk it was back to the condo where I wrote and Atticus napped. Around 4:30 he broke me from my trance with a nose to the leg, letting me know it was time for our walk. We drove to Herring Cove and took in the sunset, although just before the sun sank into the water it was obscured by an off shore storm. Nevertheless we weren't disappointed as the sun cast its rays on the remaining clouds and gave us quite a show. It was a good 90 minute walk made easier by the receding tide and heart lifting by Beethoven's Ninth rising up out of my iPod. It's hard not to feel the miraculous walking on the beach with Atticus, watching the sun set and listening to the symphony Beethoven miraculously created when he was deaf.

I don't imagine we'll have any sun tomorrow as snow is predicted to start around 2:00 a.m. and last through the morning. It will then turn to rain. At least it will be a good writing day.

Morning on Race Point

Early this morning we braced ourselves for a walk along Race Point. It was as cold and windy as it was on Mount Jackson last Saturday. Luckily, having spent many a winter day on top of mountains these past few years I had the right clothes for a long walk on the beach.

Not only did we get to see the sun set into the water, we also got to see it just after it rose out of the water. Such is the angle of beaches on Cape Cod.

Atticus is happiest when we are together. But maybe that’s not happiness. Sometimes I think he believes it’s his job to make sure he’s looking out for me and if I’m happy, he’s happy. But nothing makes him happier than to be out in nature. Give him the mountains, a good field or a sandy beach and you see a jauntiness to his step. He gallops with all four legs leaving the ground at the same time, throws his head back and opens his mouth to drink in the world and if there is a good wind all that better!

He knows things I don’t know. I don’t pretend to know what they are, I simply allow him to have his secrets. I’m not sure he’d tell me if he could, but I’d like to think he would. This morning as I was watching him run around on the beach as if playing tag with the wind and teasing the breaking waves I thought of those lines from Mary Oliver’s poem ‘Her Grave’:

“A dog comes to you and lives with you in your own house, but you do not therefore own her, as you do not own the rain, or the trees, or the laws which pertain to them….A dog can never tell you what she knows from the smells of the world, but you know, watching her, that you know almost nothing.”

So it is every time I’m out in nature with Atticus. Watching him I realize I know very little compared to what he knows. Luckily I’ve got a front row seat and I do my best to pick up a tidbit every now and again.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, we have a rule to break.

PS: My favorite contemporary poet is Mary Oliver. As fate would have it she lives in Provincetown.

Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds. ~ Einstein

''A man may stand there and put all America behind him.'' ~ Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau was writing about the beach out here at the end of America: Provincetown. Yes, I wrote "out here" because this is where Atticus and I are for the week.

We've come to the tip of the Cape for some quiet writing time. It's not like one has to escape from Jackson, New Hampshire all that often but today marks the start of February vacation and Jackson will be filled with our former Massachusetts brethren. That's reason enough to go to a more peaceful place. Hence Provincetown in mid winter.

We will spend our days walking the dunes and writing. As for our nights, we'll do what we are doing now, lounging in the living room in front of the fireplace of our perfect little rented condo (thank you homeaway.com). We've just finished dinner, which was prepared in a great kitchenette. (Let me tell you, this place we're staying in is wonderful. It has everything and we could quite happily live in this space.)

I haven't been to Provincetown in 15 years and as soon as we arrived I wondered why it had been so long. We pulled into town just before sunset and our first stop was Race Point to walk on the beach. It was warm and comfortable and the scent of the sea filled our lungs. Atticus romped on the sand and as we walked towards the sinking sun I realized this is our first time out of the White Mountains in the past two and a half years (other than quick trips to Newburyport.)

Night, the beloved.

When Atticus and I lived in Newburyport we often took lengthy nighttime walks weaving our way through the tightly-knit South End of the city. There was something soothing about those strolls. As we walked up and down the streets nearly every house looked like a warm and inviting home as the lights glowed within. When I owned my own newspaper at the same time, every two weeks we would venture out delivering my papers, starting at 9:30 at night and going non-stop deep into the next afternoon. Those loneliest of hours were often the most peaceful I knew.

Lately I’ve been getting reacquainted with that nocturnal peace. On a very windy night under a nearly-full moon we hiked Moriah. Then came a hike to the top of Mount Hale. Once on the summit we sat on top of the giant rock cairn with only the moon and a few stars overhead. Off in the distance we could see the spine of the Willey Range and the bulges of the Twins. It was cold but we were warmed by the beauty and the quietude. With no wind the only thing I could hear was the beat of my own heart.

During the next week we climbed Black Mountain and gazed out at Carter Notch and towards Mount Washington and then we climbed North and South Doublehead. Once on the ledges of South Doublehead I felt like a woodland spirit stuck between two heavens – that which flickered above me and the lights of Jackson below me. I didn’t want to leave and we would have sat there until daybreak had we not been spurred on by the cold.

In each of these instances it was only Atticus and me but there was not a thread of loneliness to be tugged. There is something different about the night and when tucked comfortably away as a member of society we’re taught to fear it. But far away from neon signs, the sound of rushing traffic and even the comfort of our own homes there’s more peace in the woods at night than any other place I’ve ever known. Sure, there is the occasional unsettling unidentified sound in the forest at night and the narrow beam of light from my headlamp lights the way in such a way it casts haunting shadows and brings tree branches to life. But even though I may be far away from my fellow man I feel comfort there. Once I surrender to the darkness and the quiet and being out there by ourselves something wondrous happens: I get closer to myself. I begin to understand more about my life. Things I’ve puzzled over or prayed about become clearer and I feel renewed. It’s as if I needed to pull myself away from all the comforts I know to be out in the dark and the cold.

One of my favorite writers is the late Antoine de Saint-Exupery, author of “The Little Prince” (and other books). He had a thing for the night as well and summed up its enchantment: “Night, the beloved. Night when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.”

“When man reassembles his fragmentary self…” That says it. In order to become whole again we need to get far enough away from our comforts and feel what it is like to simply breathe and move through the forest as the simplest of beasts do.

I used to be afraid of the woods at night because it’s nothing like walking through the neighborhoods of Newburyport at night. And yet even though an excited trill and a glimpse of uncertainty courses through me when I enter the forest, I feel like I’m on my way back to myself. When I was first out at night I was always relieved by returning to the safety of my car but that’s now changed. The return to the car almost comes too soon now, as does arriving at home. Adventure is where we grow and live and thrive. But more than adventure it’s about the seclusion.

After those series of nocturnal adventures we hiked Mount Jackson last Saturday. We started at the more conventional hour of 9:00 in the morning. It was cold and breezy but we were dressed for it. What we weren’t ready for was number of people we saw that day. There were at least 40 coming and going on this little trail. One Appalachian Mountain Club organized hike had 19 members! I suppose some find comfort in numbers but I couldn’t help wondering what these people get out of being out there in masse.

When the trails are that busy it’s difficult to find wilderness within you or around you. If anything it’s more like walking in a shopping mall. Occasionally you leapfrog a group and eventually they pass you back again. It goes on and on this way until eventually you all end up at the summit around the same time and politely you chat with each other, maybe make a passing joke or two, and eventually turn to head down and by the time you’re back at your car you think and before you know it you realize you’ve missed most of the reason for heading off to the mountains in the first place.

I’m not so arrogant as to think Atticus and I own these mountains, but there’s a reason we enjoy night hikes and day hikes where other hikers aren’t. Alone with each other the mountain reveals much more to us and of us. When it’s crowded like it was on Mount Jackson it’s simply more of what we are trying to get away from.

This is as perfect a place to end since the sun has now set and people are making their way home or are already home. That means it’s a perfect time for Atticus and me to head to Mount Pickering and Mount Stanton where I’ll “reassemble my fragmentary self.”

We're Off to Visit Angell; You Should Visit Spicebush Log

Two days ago we stood in surprisingly bitterly cold summit of Mount Jackson. Yesterday we walked the 6.8 mile loop around the bucolic country roads of Jackson. Today we drive into Boston. It’s three hours by car, but a world away in attitude.

Atticus has an afternoon appointment with Dr. Dan Biros, his ophthalmologist.

Nothing to worry about, Atti’s eyes are doing well.

This is a follow-visit to our first appointment with Dr. Biros two months ago. At the time he plucked a few small lashes that were irritating Atti’s eyes and he gave us medication to moisten his eyes. When they tested his tear production in early December his eyes were only producing about a third of what they should have.

I’m no doctor but from the look of things, his eyes seem moister and to be doing well.

While we’re on the road today, fighting traffic before escaping back up to Jackson tonight, I would like to direct you to Spicebush Log, my favorite regular blog read. Today Ellen Snyder, a wildlife biologist and writer, is celebrating her one year anniversary of blogging. It’s been a successful year and I’ve enjoyed following along. Today’s post concerns her first year and morphs into a touching piece on Bella, their late dog.

Onward, by all means.

Mount Jackson, February 6, 2010

Today we hiked Mount Jackson. As we got off the mountain and into the car, while Atticus was cleaning his boots, I checked my email. I didn't realize the Dogs 1o1 piece on Animal Planet was replaying this morning. There were 27 emails from people who had watched the show and were introduced to my diminutive friend with the big heart. (Thanks to those of you who emailed us with your warm wishes!) So, while they were watching footage of him climbing mountains, he was on top of one of our 4,000-footers. It was a beautiful day and the view of Mount Washington, our highest peak, was stunning, but the summit was colder than I expected and there aren't as many photos as I would have liked. (My fingers were numb.) The slide show is here.

Here's To Bold Beginnings

There are two Jacksons in my life. Both are special to me. One is a new friend. It’s Jackson the town. We moved into last May and already it feels like a home I never want to say goodbye to. The other Jackson I’ve known a little longer. It’s Mount Jackson and it sits proudly looking out over Crawford Notch. It seems as though for some mysterious reason Atticus and I are linked to this mountain and it knows us well. It calls to me when I need it most and understands what I most need.

If you listen well, you come to know that all mountains have stories to tell, but what’s different about Mount Jackson is that it seems to know my stories. It extracts them from me even when they are secrets I’d rather not share; even if I wish it wouldn’t. There are some things a man would rather keep to himself. But this mountain does what it will to me and even if I resist it wins out and my heart is opened and my secrets spill out on the rocks and trees.

It’s as if in that initial climb upon entering the forest the trees are taking my temperature as if to say, “What did you bring us today, Tom?” Sometimes I smile and walk briskly up without much breath lost. Other times I struggle. Yesterday I struggled. Nope, I cannot hide myself from this mountain. It can read my mind and whatever is in it plays out in my body.

At my worst on any climb when I feel I cannot go any further I slow my pace and count steps. I tell myself that when I get to 100 I can take a break. But that doesn’t come until later in a hike when I’m tired from the climb. Yesterday, just a couple of minutes after stepping on the trail, I was hurting. I was weighed down by a heavy heart. The steps came slowly and I started counting and I was so weary I barely made 50 steps before I stopped. I began again. Again I was lucky to reach 50. This went on the entire way up the mountain. We had it to ourselves and it’s a good thing because it was clear the mountain wanted my undivided attention to reach deep inside of me and study what was wrong.

You see, I have this friend who is in dire need. He’s at the most important crossroads he’ll ever come to in his life and he’s paralyzed by fear. He’s attempting to leave a tragically troubled life behind and move forward towards a life he’s always dreamed off. I’ve given my friend and his quandary a lot of thought and energy. He can see where he wants to go and everything is laid out perfectly waiting for him to just say yes to his greatest adventure. But try as he will he cannot take those first steps. It’s as if life has been too cruel to him and he believes he’ll never have anything but shattered dreams.

Now I know this man well and I realize the only way he loses is if he doesn’t move forward. And I’ve tried my best to get him to believe that and to move forward but no matter how much I try I cannot help him. And after all this time I believe he is at the end of his rope and there’s nothing I can do.

No wonder I was struggling up the mountain yesterday, taking 50 steps then stopping to catch my breath before struggling to reach another 50 – I was carrying him the entire time. I kept promising myself that if I could go a little farther it would somehow send him a message that he could go a little farther, too. I struggled on the mountain, just as he is struggling in life. I found it hard to breathe, just as he finds it hard to breathe when anxiety wraps itself like a snake around his lungs and fills them with fear.

I know myself well enough to know that no matter how much some climbs test me all the suffering goes away as soon as I reach the summit. After that all becomes clear. There is no more pain or suffering. So as I shuffled up the mountain, following a very patient Atticus, I worried for my friend and dedicated my climb to him.

My friend reminds me so much of my father. And Jackson reminds me of him, too. In the days leading up to his death this same mountain reached inside me and helped me to understand a man who had been a mystery to me for most of his life. We often warred with each other because he believed that daring to dream was the worst thing a man could do since none of his dreams had come true. But I differed with him. And so we often went years without speaking all because one of us lived in a world built on dreams and one refused to give them air to breathe.

It’s no wonder I chose Jackson for our hike yesterday. It wasn’t intentional – at least not on my part. But I cannot speak for this mysterious mountain.

Eventually we reached the top and as soon as Atticus and I stood there looking from the face of one mountain to the next it was as it always is – the trouble in getting there disappeared and all that was left was the reason I dare to take that first step – even though I know it’s going to hurt by the time I get to the top. Once on top everything is so clear.

Yesterday as I sat on that mountaintop with Atticus on my lap as the gray jays nibbled sunflower seeds out of my hand. I remembered what T. S. Eliot wrote:

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”

The only tragedy is never taking that first step.

Atticus in his New K9 Top Coat Body Suit

Recently the good people at K9 Top Coat were good enough to give Atticus their Arctic Fleece Body Suit. When we first started winter hiking he wore another of their products but that was five years and four pounds ago. The new suit is perfect for him in that it is much more fluid than the older suit.

He wore it today on Mount Jackson, even though he didn't really need it. It wasn't cold and besides, he's built up a resistance to all but the lowest winter temperatures. Still, it was good to get him some practice in it and it kept the snow from clinging to the hair on his legs.

The boots are his purple set of Muttluks.

Concerning My Previous Post & MSPCA Angell

I wasn't expecting the number of emails that came in after the last post. They are split between those who want to make sure both Atticus and I are okay, and those who were getting ready to donate to our fundraising event.

First off, Atticus is doing very well, as am I. As a matter of fact he had a check up at Angell Animal Medical Center on Monday. His first appointment was with Dr. Rebecca Malakoff, a cardiologist. Two years ago, then-Angell cardiologist Gregg Rapoport took a closer look at a heart murmur Dr. Maureen Carroll discovered. It was very minor. Monday's visit was simply a follow up on that.

Dr. Malakoff 's exam, which included an echocardiogram and an electrocardiogram, showed that the murmur has grown in the slightest manner possible. She wants us back in six months for a chest x-ray and in a year for another echocardiogram and electrocardiogram. For now, however, Atticus is doing great. This is just something we'll keep an eye out for over the lifespan of my little friend.

The second appointment of the day was with Dr. Daniel Biros, an ophthalmologist. It was a simple follow up to the cataract surgery performed two and a half years ago by Dr. Ruth Marrion at Bulger Animal Hospital. Dr. Biros pulled out a few small lashes that were most likely irritating his eyes. If they grow back he'll freeze them out. He also detected that Atti's tear production is about a third to a half of what it should be and this was of some concern but nothing too major. He prescribed some cream for his eyes and I put that in twice a day. Dr. Biros wants to see us back in two months time, but there's no real problem.

Dr. Malakoff and Dr. Biros are the third and fourth doctors at Angell Animal Medical Center to have seen Atticus over the last two and a half years. The other two were Dr. Rapoport and Dr. Maureen Carroll. Our experiences with all four doctors and their vet techs has been superb. These professionals not only know what they are doing, they are clearly passionate about their work and they care about animals. I consider us lucky to have had them working with Atticus. And I consider Angell Animal Medical Center lucky to have them on staff.

As for the second group of people who were responding to my last post: Atticus and I would have loved to have earned your money (from what I've read in the past 12 hours, it's in the thousands) for Angell Animal Medical Center, unfortunately it didn't work out. I'm positive they would still welcome your money even though Atticus and I won't be doing the fundraising. I'm so impressed with the care we get from the medical staff that I even made a sizable donation the other day when we were there - and that was on top of our bill. In this troubled economic times all non-profits struggle and MSPCA Angell is no different.

I'd also like mention Carter Luke, the CEO at MSPCA Angell. We had a lengthy conversation this morning and I continue to be impressed. He seems to be the perfect fit for that organization. He leads with the wisdom of Solomon and his love of animals is first and foremost. As a matter of fact, whenever we communicate one of the first things he asks is "How's Atticus?"

I'd like to say one last thing about Maureen Carroll, Gregg Rapoport (who is now down 'between the hedges' at the University of Georgia), Rebecca Malakoff, Daniel Biros and Carter Luke: they understand one very important thing - it's all about the animals. That sits well with Atticus. And you probably already know that you can do what you want to me, but so long as you treat my little friend well, you're okay. That makes the CEO and medical staff at MSPCA Angell very special in my eyes.

Tom & Atticus' Winter Fundraiser For Angell Animal Medical Center Cancelled

I'll elaborate more in the com- ing days, but for now I'll just say that we'll not be following through with the full winter fundraiser we'd planned for Angell Animal Medical Cen- ter. We'll be honoring the mountains that have already been dedicated by hiking them, but the rest of the peaks will be hiked for our own pleasure.

Mount Moriah is Dedicated to Mittens

George Woundy is an old Newburyporter who has just left Newburyport. He's dedicated Mount Moriah to Mittens. I'll let George tell you about his friend.

Mittens was born a feral kitten somewhere in New Hampshire. My daughter, Jillian, picked her from a litter at the NHSPCA in Stratham, N.H. because she was "different" from the others. Suddenly I, an avowed "cat hater", was faced with a decision. At the time, Jillian lived with her mother and spent her weekends with me so it would have been easy for me to avoid the kitten, but of course I was asked, "Daddy. May I bring my kitty with me next weekend?” What was I to do? What the heck, it was only for the weekends. I could handle that."

Somewhere along the way that mean ol' cat hater began to miss his daughter and the kitten during the week. She's so darned cute. I couldn't stop myself. Eventually both Jillian and Mittens came to live with me full time and the rest, as they say, is history – at least for me. Mittens has been with us for 8 years and, now that I'm retired, she and I spend a lot of time together. She's a very spoiled, and very loved member of my family now. I think back on that cat hating part of my life now and I can't begin to imagine what the heck was wrong with me.

I mean . . . look at her . . . ain't she cute?

Another Slideshow Is Up: Lafayette & Lincoln

Now that I've logged back onto Phanfare as a member I'll be constructing slide shows of our hikes from now. But first I'm playing a couple of older slide shows past hikes. This one, of an autumn hike along the Lafayette & Lincoln loop on Franconia Ridge, can be found by clicking here. Make sure you turn up the volume!

Our Phanfare Slideshows Are Returning

A few years ago we discovered Phanfare, a photo hosting site, that worked well for our needs. I used it for a year or so but never renewed. With our newest Winter Quest coming up I've just signed up for Phanfare again. For the next year you'll get to see our photos from each hike and the slide shows put to music. Over the next few days, I'll post some of our old slideshows. Here's one from Moosilauke two winters ago.

The New Canon

On Black Friday we waded through the throng of dazed shoppers milling in the aisles of the Newington Best Buy to pick up a new camera. I think she employee who helped us was relieved to find a customer who next exactly what he wanted. Our new camera is a Canon Power Shot SX20. It will take some time getting used to the upgrade from my simple old point and shoot Kodak but I think it will be fun.

I took these shots today at the little park next to the Saco River in North Conway. There's finally a good amount of snow on Washington and the rest of the peaks. I don't mind that it hasn't started gathering in the Valley yet.

Mount Jackson is Dedicated to Kozmo

We would be honored to have you hike Mt. Jackson in memory of our first and beloved Golden, Kozmo…Kozie, Kman, Sir Kozmos Mariner, Evil Doodies, the Mayor... the nicknames for him were endless! He was our “first born” (before our 3 sons) and the countless photo albums of just him say it all! Mt. Jackson was the first 4,000 footer that Kozie hiked back on Oct 3, 1998. Coincidently, Jackson is a town we now live in and it was Kozie’s final home. There isn’t a day that goes by here in the mountains that we don’t think of him on the trails. This was his home and he was his happiest when walking in the woods with us and his old green tennis ball or a stick. It wasn’t just any stick he would find and carry; the sticks were closer to the size of tree trunks! He talked all the time and had a way of communicating without ever having to bark. When he was really happy or saying hello he would sound like a mooing cow. He was a funny dog with a personality unlike any other I’ve ever met. His loss to cancer was devastating to our family.

We thank you Tom for finding such a worthy cause to support. We thank you Tom for all that you do and who you are. We thank you Tom and little Atti for inspiring us - we are so glad that you are in this world and even more so, our friends here in Jackson.

Be Safe!
Onward & Upward,
The Hagerty Family (Jenny, Shawn, Logan, Aidan, Quinn, Molly, Bo-Bo, Paco and Grampy Joe)

Another Death on Mount Washington

Mount Washington continues to be one of the deadliest mountains in the country. Another death was announced today. WMUR has the story here.

According to the Mount Washington Observatory website, more than 135 people have died on the mountain that resides less than 10 miles up the road from us. The website has a list of all fatalities here. So far two people have died on Mount Washington this year.

Carter Dome Will Be Hiked For Fargo

"We adopted Fargo from the SPCA in Stratham, New Hampshire in January 1997. A week after we lost our sweet golden retriever Bradie to cancer, we stopped at the SPCA on a Saturday. Fargo was there as a stray. He had been tied to the door of the SPCA in a snowstorm, with no note, no information. Fargo came home with us – it took us just a few hours to come up with his name, but it fit perfectly. Fargo became a great hiking companion. A year later we acquired a German shepherd puppy, Aria, and they loved each other. We hiked many trails and numerous peaks together, including the Carters. Everyone loved Fargo. Once someone left a note on our car windshield while we were in a grocery store, that said, “You must love this dog, he has the most beautiful face.” Sadly we lost Fargo to cancer in October 2007, a disease that takes far too many dogs. We know the importance of places like MSPCA-Angell to dogs and their owners. Thank-you." Given by Ellen and Srini.

(You can see more photos of Fargo here, on Ellen Snyder's fine website, www.Spicebushblogspot.com.)

Make A Difference For Animals In Need: Join Our Unforgettable Winter Quest

Starting on the Winter Solstice (December 21st), Atticus and I will attempt to hike each of the 48 4,000-footers during the 90 days of winter. We're undertaking this quest to raise money for Angell Animal Medical Center, the great non-profit. Each year MSPCA Angell helps more than 200,000 animals in need. They once helped Atticus, and this is our way to give something back to this amazing collection of good-hearted folks.

Our first goal is one we hope to reach before winter even begins: we'd like to have each of the mountains dedicated by the first day of winter. So far so good. We already have 16 peaks taken. To learn how to dedicate one of the remaining 32 peaks to a special animal, click here.

Today we received a dedication for our first cat, which was something we had quite a few of last time around. Cat lovers, you are way behind the dog lovers so get a move on. Even if you don't have a pet, you may have at one time. Make a donation to his or her memory. Or give a mountain to a friend who has a beloved animal.

Once you make a dedication you'll have a front row seat to what will surely be an unforgettable adventure.

These are the peaks still open for sponsorship:

Adams (5774 ft)
Jefferson (5712 ft)
Madison (5367 ft)
Lafayette (5260 ft)
South Twin (4902 ft)
Eisenhower (4780 ft)
North Twin (4761 ft)
Bond (4698 ft)
Middle Carter (4610 ft)
West Bond (4540 ft)
Garfield (4500 ft)
South Carter (4430 ft)
South Kinsman (4358 ft)
Field (4340 ft)
Osceola (4340 ft)
Flume (4328 ft)
Pierce (4310 ft)
North Kinsman (4293 ft)
Willey (4285 ft)
Bondcliff (4265 ft)
Zealand (4260 ft)
North Tripyramid (4180 ft)
Cabot (4170 ft)
East Osceola (4156 ft)
Middle Tripyramid (4140 ft)
Tom (4051 ft)
Wildcat D (4050 ft)

Passaconaway (4043 ft)
Owls Head (4025 ft)
Galehead (4024 ft)
Waumbek (4006 ft)
Isolation (4003 ft)

Can I Get An 'Amen'?

Back in Newburyport a few years ago, one of our city councilors couldn’t believe I believed in God but didn’t go to church. She said, “Ryan, if you had to choose a religion, which one would it be?”

“I don’t have a favorite,” I told her.

“But say you had to choose just one. Which one would it be?”

“I don’t have to choose just one. That’s the beauty of it.”

“But say God made you choose a church to go to, which one would you go to?”

“I don’t think God would make me choose a church.”

She was now getting frustrated. “But what if he did? What if he said you had to choose a religion – which one would you choose?”

I paused for a moment, making her wait. I then looked her in the eye and said, “If I had to claim one belief I’d say I was a pantheist.”

This was too much for her. “You’re disgusting!” she said, before marching off.

A couple of days later I ran into her husband. “Why would you treat my wife like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why would you be so disgusting to her when she was asking you about religion?”

I didn’t know what he was talking about and told him so.

“When she asked you which religion you’d choose, you said you worshipped panties.”

What my not-always bright friends who switched churches every few years, the last time because their church became open and affirming to gays and lesbians, didn’t understand was that like Christ, Mohammad, Buddha and Lao Tse, I find my connection to God through nature. I like it best that way; there’s no middle man.

So recently, during a moment of heartache, when a friend invited me to church here in Jackson, I politely declined and instead drove over to Black Mountain. We started out early in the morning and crossed the frozen field next to the parking lot. The air was cold, crisp and clean. Immediately I felt better. Atticus, healthy again, bounced happily along the white path, leaving his footprints in the frost.

It was wonderful to step into the woods and away from the world. We passed deeper and deeper into the forest, crossing a small stream, hopping from rock to rock, stepping through leaves dry and wet, across roots smooth and slick, and along the frozen trail. The forest welcomed us home and with each step the world let go of us.

Before I knew myself, November was my least favorite month. It followed the fiery colors of autumn when trees are at their finest, and preceded the magic of the first snow and the festive draw of December’s holidays. It seemed a lonely month; a void, if you will, between two special seasons. It’s taken many walks with Atticus for me to appreciate the magic of the November woods, when all pageantry is stripped away. There’s no foliage; no snow-covered conifers.

As we climbed Black Mountain that early morning hour we left behind the sound of cars and the hustle and bustle of the human world. We listened instead to the wind weave its way through trees bare but not barren. They swayed in the chilly air, creaking, moaning, whispering. As to what they were saying, I think that, like beauty, is up to the interpreter. I’m sure you’ve heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Well, I think the same can be said for the message received from the song of the trees on the way up a mountain.

I woke that morning with heartache and on the way up the mountain that ache was replaced by the resolute beat of my working heart as it pumped blood to my limbs. The higher we climbed, the harder I worked, the deeper I breathed, the more my heart pumped. And there, there in the middle of our climb, I could feel Nature take hold of me and wash my worries away.

Nothing puts things in perspective quite like a walk in the woods. That and watching a little dog bound up the trail, pulling me along with a will that far outweighs his body. In the woods I become a student. Nature strips me naked, and then builds me back up again, putting things in perspective. And I’ve always felt that animals are far more at ease in the woods than we are – so what could be better than following my little talisman up that peak, into the heart of Nature, and out of the trials and tribulations that were weighing me down? He seems to know when I need the mountains and when I need him to lead me. And he takes his job seriously. He has a steadfast seriousness about him when in nature. Like it’s his job to see me to where I need to go.

There are two viewpoints on Black Mountain. The first is at a locked cabin (you can rent it out). Earlier this year the view from the cabin towards Mount Washington was cluttered by the trees. But here in November we could see through the woods. Then, on top of the mountain, there’s a more dramatic view towards Washington, but also towards the Wildcats, Carter Notch and the Carters. Most people approach Carter Dome from Route 16, but here in back of it, the view is far more dramatic and the mountain seems far more impressive.

As always we took our time on top, Atticus nudging me to lift him up so he could see over the brush. We settled into the views and our thoughts and stayed for quite a while.

A few days later the Town of Jackson held a Topping Off Ceremony where they placed a tree on top of their newly framed library. While there, I had my first chance to hear the minister of my friend’s church. He was enthusiastic, bold, loud and very animated. And I, still remembering my walk up Black Mountain, was thrilled to have chosen to listen to the song of the trees instead of his sermon in church.

In his essay “Nature”, Emerson wrote: “The foregoing generations beheld God and nature face to face; we, through their eyes. Why should we not also enjoy an original relation to the universe?”

Can I get an ‘amen’?

Atticus M. Finch on Animal Planet's Dogs 101 (Repeat)

In case you missed it, the Dogs 101 episode featuring Atticus airs again this Saturday night at 8:00 and 11:00 on the Animal Planet network. I've still not seen it yet but a friend is sending a disc to me this week in the mail.

The episode originally aired on October 1oth and brought many new readers to our blog. That weekend there were several thousand hits. About 10 days ago it ran again and once again the hits on the site spiked right after the show.

So, in case I haven't said it before, welcome to our new readers.

Following Atticus Across the Winter Wilderness for a Great Cause

This is one of my favorite places in the Winter Whites – Mount Guyot.

There’s no easy way to get there. We’ve passed over it three times in winter, always on a Bonds Traverse. Guyot sits between West Bond and Zealand. And the only way you can reach it is by walking 23 miles across the Pemigewasset Wilderness. Some consider this hike more audacious than a Presidential Traverse because there are no bail out points on this hike. Once you’ve come so far, you’re committed to going all the way.

The first time we did this traverse we walked from the Route 302 in the north down to Lincoln Woods along the Kancamagus Highway. We were caught in surprising blizzard-like conditions and a blinding snow drifted knee and hip deep. It was the only time I ever thought we might die on a mountain.

The next time we did it was later the same winter. It was the same route, but instead of hiking just Zealand, West Bond, Bond and Bondcliff we also threw in Hale. Unfortunately, upon approaching the summit of Hale, I felt weak and sick to my stomach. I dropped my pack below the summit, realizing I would not be able to go on, and when I tagged the summit I got very sick. I stumbled down Hale that day and was getting ready to go back to the car I’d dropped in the parking area off of Route 302.

I got down to the bottom of the mountain and I sat for a while and thought about why we were attempting to hike the 48 twice that winter. It was because my friend Vicki Pearson died of cancer and this was our tribute to her. We were raising funds for the Jimmy Fund and Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in her name.

Sitting there, feeling sorry for myself, I realized in the end there wasn’t a day that went by when Vicki didn’t feel like vomiting. That was enough to make me continue on my way. Strangely enough we finished the traverse in a very good time and after a few miles I no longer felt sick.

The third time we did the traverse we walked in the opposite direction, from the Kancamagus up to Route 302. Once again we added in Hale. It was a long day and we didn’t see another soul the entire time. It was an eerily calm before the storm kind of day. You can see it in the photo above. The clouds grew thick and beheaded some of the higher peaks and yet there’s Atticus, plodding along without caring about the gathering storm.

One of the reasons I love this photo so is because of the way it shows the scope of Atticus among the mountains. Here he is in the middle of a 25 mile hike over five 4,000-foot peaks. It’s clear he’s focused, but also comfortable, and right at home.

He’s the little dog who would and could.

When I’m tired and I see his little body moving forward like this I remind myself I can do nearly anything with him by my side.

So now that you see some of the lengths this little dog is willing to go to help animals in need at Angell Animal Medical Center, just how far are you willing to go?

You have it easy. You can sit home and watch Atticus’ progress from the comfort of your warm home this winter. All you have to do is pick a peak, make a donation and sit back and watch Atticus lead you through an unforgettable winter. And when he’s doing this, remember he was once a patient at Angell, relying on the kindness of strangers when he was battling what we thought was cancer. I was so moved by the way this non-profit organization fill everyone with hope – especially when it is most needed – I knew then and there I’d do my best to support them whenever I could. It’s one of the reasons we’ll be donating a portion of the author’s royalties from book sales of ‘Following Atticus’ to Angell Animal Medical Center.

Mount Liberty is dedicated to Sasha

Sarah George is dedicating Mount Liberty to Sasha. Here's what Sarah writes about her friend:

Sasha began her life as an “Army brat” at Fort Knox, KY in 2005, ten days before Christmas. Her daddy was a Jack Russell/Beagle mix and her mama, a Basset Hound from Texas who pushed out twelve babies! Sasha soon grew accustomed to the booming of tank rounds and 50 cal.’s from the nearby training fields that rattled our house often. When my husband completed his military obligation, we settled back in Massachusetts with our favorite new companion. Sasha is a great teacher (and tester!) of patience and reminds us daily to not take life too seriously… for there is always an open field, a wooded trail, a quiet swimming hole, a windy car ride or an old ragged toy just waiting to fill us with giddy contentment. We wish Sasha a long, happy, healthy life with us on this earth and dedicate Liberty to her in hopes of someday hiking it! Thanks Tom and Atticus!

Atticus is back to normal

Atticus is back to his normal heathly self. I'll post an update soon on how we fixed his problem. He wanted me to remind you that we will be at the Whitney Center here in Jackson next Tuesday, November 17th. We go on at 7:00 p.m.

Susan Dunker-Bendigo, our wonderful librarian, wrote the following in the current JPL monthly newsletter:

The program in November will feature local author Tom Ryan along with his dog Atticus, talking about their life together, hikes they have made to raise money for Angell Memorial Animal Hospital in Boston, and Tom's forthcoming book. Tom and Atticus are regular visitors to the library and are well known around town. Don't miss this entertaining evening which will serve as a fundraiser for the new library. We'll serve cake and coffee and ask for a suggested donation of $5 at the door. We thank Tom for his willingness to help out the library! This will take place at the Whitney Community Center at 7pm on Tuesday November 17th at 7pm. Tom assures me that no one will come, so prove me right and come out in droves to get to know this interesting duo!

Health Issues Continue for Atticus

As you read in the most recent post, in a two night span we went to the North Conway Animal Hospital on an overnight emergency visit and then spent an 18 degree night in the car.

Yesterday, Atticus wanted nothing to do with the house and he showed a great deal of fear throughout attempts to get him in here. Therefore we spent most of our time away from the house. When we returned mid afternoon, he was agitated but he calmed down a great deal. I felt we may have been through whatever problems have been plaguing him here. Since I hadn’t slept for the better part of 48 hours we went to bed around 4:00 p.m. yesterday and we slept well.

Actually, we slept well for about three hours. Just after 7:00 p.m. Atticus woke up in a panic again. He could barely breathe, was extremely agitated; and he wanted out of the house in the worst possible way.

I took him around the house room-by-room to show him there were no problems. I let him see me looking under beds, checking closets and opening drawers. We walked down into the cellar. None of it mattered. If he calmed down it was barely and only for a handful of seconds. It was clear we had to get out of the house again.

Luckily Atticus and I have made an elderly friend who lives down the road about a mile and she offered us the space of an unused bedroom in her condo for a few nights. That’s where we spent the night - without incident.

When we returned here this morning we were inside for less than 30 seconds before Atticus wanted out again. We went for a long walk and now we’re back. He’s currently sitting in the front seat of the car, the driver’s side door is open, and so is the front door of the house. I’m typing this from the front steps. It’s clear he doesn’t want to come up on the steps or into the house. He seems calm and happy lying down on his fleece blanket just feet away.

The strange thing about all of this is that the medical tests showed nothing wrong. And he shows no ill effects whenever we are away from the house, even if it is just five feet away from the front steps as he is now. For six months we've lived here and he hasn't had an issue until the last 72 hours.

Tomorrow morning the landlords are sending someone to look at the boiler. We shut the boiler down two days ago and the gas has been off for 24 hours.

In a bit we’ll leave here and drive to our friend’s place again. That’s where we’ll spend the next night or so.

A big thank you to all who have contacted me about Atticus. Please know that so long as we are out of the house he shows no ill-effects and you’d have no idea that something was amiss. Hopefully this mystery will be taken care of in the next few days and we can get back to a normal life where I write and he sleeps on the chair next to me in my writing room.

Column for the Northcountry News: Some Trails We Just Won't Do

We slept in the car last night. It was 18 degrees out.

We don’t make a habit of sleeping in my Honda Fit; and I hope to never have to do again. But I did it for Atticus.

Two nights ago he woke me up just before 3:00 a.m. He had a panicked look on his face, the kind he gets on the rare occasions he wakes up in the middle of the night and really needs to go to the bathroom. I let him outside. He walked to the middle of the backyard and sat down. Ten minutes later we returned to the bedroom. He woke up a short time later in more of a panic, his body trembling, his eyes wild, his tongue out. He was nudging me with his nose. He wanted me to get up. I got dressed and brought him outside again. This time we took a walk and he was fine. Forty minutes later we settled into bed again. A minute later Atticus was nudging me, acting strangely, this time worse than before.

Luckily Dr. Christine O’Connell at the North Country Animal Hospital is on call 24 hours a day. We called and half an hour later Dr. O’Connell was checking Atticus out: temperature; blood work; ultrasound. Other than gaining a couple of pounds due to his numerous new friends in Jackson and their generosity with treats, he is in good health. We were mystified. I was told to keep my eye on him.

Upon returning to the house the symptoms started again. I opened up the windows, aired out the house and called the landlord. White Mountain Gas showed up in a bit. No gas leaks. We shut off the boiler thinking it may be carbon dioxide kicking back into the house. (However, the carbon monoxide detector was running and quiet.) With the windows open and boiler off, Atticus calmed down. All was well until late last night when the temperatures plummeted. Even though the boiler was off Atticus became nearly wild. His trembling turned into something near a seizure. I opened the windows and he and I took a long walk. As soon as we were outside the house he was fine. When we returned the same thing occurred. We tried sleeping in the master bedroom, the guest bedroom, the den and the living room. Each time Atti’s discomfort was clearly visible. He wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible.

I knew there was nothing my landlords could do at that late hour back in their Massachusetts’ home so I decided not to bother them. I gathered a couple of pillows and comforters and Atticus and I went out to the car. As the car iced over, he slept well. I can’t say the same.

What does all of this have to do with a hiking column?

Plenty.

Dogs are like children. If you have them they are your responsibility. If you love them you’ll do anything for them. Even if 'anything' means spending an 18 degree night in a Honda Fit just down the road from Mount Washington.

Just yesterday I read an on-line trip report about a woman who is attempting to get her dog to finish the 48 4,000-footers. (This is a different woman from my last column.) She had already finished the list but she wanted to make sure her dog became a member of the AMC’s 4,000-Footer Club and received the patch and scroll. Their last peak was to be North Tripyramid.

Now North Tripyramid is not the most challenging of peaks, but you still have to work to get to it. It sits quite humbly in the middle of the Sandwich Mountain Range with its siblings Middle and South Tripyramid and you can see where they got their name from the moment you lay eyes on them (which is something you can do from the Waterville Valley ski slopes).

There are numerous approaches, but there is one I’ve never been on. It climbs a slippery and steep slide up North Tripyramid. It’s one of the few trails I refuse to bring Atticus on. (The others are the Huntington Ravine Trail and the Flume Slide Trail.) I think he could probably hike each of these, but there’s always a chance there could be trouble. So why chance it? Why put my friend through that even though he’s climbed some 500 peaks in the last four years?

I know very little about this woman, her dog or the relationship between them. I’ve never met them. From her on-line reports it’s clear she loves her dog dearly. But see, that’s what confuses me. One slip on such a trail and the dog could be terribly hurt – or worse.

I know some other dogs have done the trail, but I don’t see the point in it. I know some hikers love the challenge of climbing the North Tripyramid Slide and I guess they figure the dog will love the challenge too. I guess.

People tell me, “You don’t know what you’re missing. You’ll love climbing the slide!”

Sorry, it’s not going to happen. I think I’ve climbed the Tripyramids at least seven times and I’ve tried numerous beautiful approaches. All were rewarding. More importantly, Atticus was safe on each of the approaches.

There are many great things about these mountains, including the joy and inspiration they bring. Atticus loves it here, but he also always has a say. We turn back when he wants to, even though that’s only happened a few times. We don’t hike when he doesn’t want to. Twice we showed up at trailheads on very cold days and he refused to get out of the car. We didn’t hike. Last fall we were climbing the Hale Brook Trail and when we came to the first stream crossing it was running harder than usual. Now Atticus can leap this deep gully easily enough but on this day the water bothered him. I offered to pick him up and carry him over. He wanted none of that. Instead he lay down as a sign that says, “Don’t pick me up.” And so I didn’t. We turned back. We returned the next day. Same thing happened. On the third day he leaped over it without a second thought.

It’s important to me that he has a choice.

This does not make me a better dog owner than the other person. But I do think I pay more attention to what Atticus likes and dislikes, his needs and safety requirements, than most dog owners do. Perhaps that is a product of the time we spend together, which is more than most people spend with their dogs.

As for the woman who wants to make sure her dog gets a 4,000-footer patch and scroll, they didn’t make it up North Tripyramid on a cloudy, slippery day on those treacherous slabs. The dog eventually said ‘enough is enough’ and that was it. Smart move. I was glad she listened to her dog after it sent her several signals. But I guess she wasn’t listening all that well because she reported they would return for another attempt this weekend – dangers of the slabs be damned!

While I’m sorry for her dog, I’m happy for this woman. I’m pleased she’ll never know what it’s like to sleep in a Honda Fit on a November night when it is 18 degrees out.

North & South Hancock will be hiked for Gus & Harley

Here's the dedication as written by Nancy & Mike Lindberg:

Gus is a 13 1/2 year old schnauzer who has been our personal trainer since coming to share our lives as a puppy. He has helped raise our sons and keep us well trained through his constant vigilance. Due to age and health problems his hiking days are behind him, but his spirit could still soar to the top with Atticus. We'd like to dedicate Hancock to him. Our other dog is an age-indeterminate yellow lab named Harley. He was found by us just after returning from our trip to the Whites to conquer Mt Washington in 2004. We grabbed Gus and went for a stroll in our local woods only to come across a very dejected lab who promptly saw Gus and us and lay down with his head on his paws to await our approach. He looked in terrible shape (overweight, sores oozing on his feet) but realized we were his salvation and marched over a mountain (a small one!) to get in our car and come home with us. Gus was never a fan of dogs in general but seemed to sense a felllow in need and showed no animosity at this invasion. After a week in the pound and advertisement of a lost dog Harley came home to us. We only can conclude that he was abandoned and he has dedicated his being to letting us know how much he loves us on a daily basis. We would like to dedicate South Hancock to him. It is only fair that Gus gets the taller mountain.

Today on South Doublehead

Cannon Mountain is dedicated to Neka

Cannon Mountain has been dedicated to Neka. It's being given by Bryan and Suzanne Flagg, our friends at the Northcountry News.

"Be favorable to bold beginnings." ~ Virgil

There's 48 4,000-footers in the White Mountains. Each one of them has a story to tell. Tell your own story by dedicating a peak to the pet in your life.

It's Nice To Be Remembered

Last Thursday night the MSPCA held their annual Hall of Fame Dinner at the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library. This is the event Atticus and I were honored at last year. We did not attend, but we were fondly remembered. One of the organizers of the event sent along the above photo. The woman speaking is News Center Five's Heather Unruh. According to two people who were there, Heather was telling the audience about the book deal and when this photo came up people oohed and aahed. She reportedly turned around and said, "I just knew that picture was going to be up there."

As you may know, we were honored last year for our fundraising efforts for Angell Animal Medical Center. Please check out this year's fundraising event by clicking here.

The photo was taken by Robert Torres.