Happy trails to you

Cold...so cold...it was my feet, mainly.  I discovered that I could maintain reasonable core body temperature by curling into a foetal position but sort of half lying on my front too (the "froetal" position).    That was warmer, until one or other arm went dead, and then I had to lie flat again until my feet began icing up, when I moved back to the opposite froetal arrangement.  I even attempted sleeping flat on my back with my legs bent.  That's tricky, especially in a mummy-style sleeping bag.  The clothes that I'd taken off to get into bed were put back on at various stages of the night.

At 7am, though it was still dark, I decided it was probably time to get up, mostly because I no longer had any feeling below my knees and elbows.  I ignored all the warnings on the tent and fired up my stove inside, because being smothered in burning nylon actually sounded quite pleasant at that stage.

Even with a double helping of hot porridge oats inside me, everything seemed to take twice as long and twice the effort of usual (which I mainly put down to not having a cup of tea first thing).  I eventually dragged myself from my tent which, along with the car, was covered in ice, and tramped to the toilet block where a warm-ish shower stung like crazy but did get the circulation going.

I wrestled my solid mass of canvas into its bag, scraped the frost from the car windscreen with a credit card (old British trick for you there) and vacated the site, driving a short distance to the trail head.  Today I set off in the opposite direction, northward, my destination being one of the backwoods campsites to see what I'd missed out on by staying in the park.

It was even clearer than yesterday, and three times as cold.  I was wearing every single item of clothing I'd brought, which did make my pack lighter, and was soon among the trees again with the lake keeping me company to my right.

This walk was tougher than the previous one, with some steep ups and downs.  It remained aspen-tastic, but there were fewer birds and beasts around.  Perhaps they'd heard about me by today, or maybe they did the sensible thing and migrated en masse for Mexico.  I made it to the somewhat basic campsite in good time and wandered back to the car before starting the drive south.

I'd spotted a few nice lookouts on the north shore on my way up, so took a break here and there on the way back.  Road tripping is really the only way to see this great nation, and I passed a world famous pie place, a chainsaw sculpture gallery, a mail-order smoked shrimp business (yum!), and a combined car and dog wash (just leave Fido tied to the back bumper).  Then it was back through the flat lands to St. Paul, where the nice people at Enterprise Rent-a-Car gave me a ride to the hotel so I didn't have to tramp back through town looking homeless.

Hannah still had one evening of conferencing left so I took myself out to a pub for a beer and a huge dripping burger.  It was the least I could reward myself!  Walking back to the hotel again was a challenge.  No sleep, freezing conditions, and lots of demands on the body seem to take a greater toll now than when I was a cub scout.  Do one thing every day that scares you?  That revelation certainly counts.

Cooking up a hearty breakfast inside the tent.

Scraping frost.  Just like back home in Durham.

The High Falls, one of the jewels of Tettegouche.  I've been spoiled by Yosemite but these were still nice.

Back to the trees and the lake as my friends.

Clear blue skies.

One of the backwoods camp sites.  Hmmm.

This is the camp latrine.  Chilly, but with a nice view.

A snake!  Who must have been especially cold-blooded today.

More trees.

A trail bridge that does not inspire confidence.

Neither does the sign.

I had to stop to snap this rather fantastic tree in a rest stop on the way home.

Not much information to impart, I guess.

A final farewell to the lake shore.

A walk in the woods

"Do one thing every day that scares you" - the mantra of a million self-help books.  Getting washed and dressed usually counts for me, but I decided to take the opportunity of this Minnesota trip to do something genuinely scary: a night in the woods by myself.

Leaving Hannah to enjoy the luxury of the St. Paul Crowne Plaza Hotel, I grabbed a car and drove north.  And more north and more north, up to Duluth and from there along the north shore of Lake Superior.  My destination was the Superior Hiking Trail - 277 miles of it, from the tip of the lake to the Canadian border.  Though I was tempted to strike out for Canada, maybe to claim political asylum, I stopped 90 miles south at Tettegouche State Park.

I decided not to go full Davy Crocket, and got a campsite in the park rather than one of the "backwoods" ones on offer.  I'm now fully Californian, and will only camp somewhere with hot showers.  After pitching my little tent I saddled up and set off.

The trail as it winds through the park is spectacular.  Everywhere is aspen and pine, and you ascend to various overlooks that show off the vastness of the forest as it covers the hills and valleys of the Sawtooth Mountains.

Then there's Lake Superior, ever-present and pretty huge, given it's the largest freshwater lake in the world.  Hiking conditions were perfect, if a little close to English, but it was clear and bright all day and in six hours I took in waterfalls, a couple of inland lakes, and Mt. Trudee.  I was accompanied everywhere by woodpeckers antisocially breaking the silence, baby squirrels, deer, pheasants, and even a mouse or two.  The squirrels and birds chirruped out warnings whenever I approached, confirming my status as the alpha male of the woods.  Luckily I didn't meet any bears or wolves or, indeed, another human.

Back at camp I enjoyed my dinner of noodles and was kept company by a fox, who fulfilled the scavenger role that the raccoons have cornered in California.  I was in bed early after some stargazing in the perfect blackness of these skies.  The warden told me it was going to get to 20F overnight (-7C) and I have a 20F-rated sleeping bag, which I think means I have an evens chance of survival.

All dressed up and ready to go!  I did get some strange looks as I walked through the streets of St. Paul on my way to the car hire place.

After a three-hour drive, here's the lake!  Looks as big as they claim.

My home from home for tonight.

My excellent tracking abilities led me to the trail.

Onward through the aspens.

Baptism River.  It was cold but soul-cleansing.

One of the hundreds of woodpeckers knocking about.

From one of the overlooks, looking over the forest and out to the lake.

Most of the autumn colours had fallen...

...but I did indulge in a little leaf peeping.

I was told by the ranger not to miss the "old growth forest".  But is conservancy even a word?

A baby squirrel, scarpering.

Up on Mt. Trudee, the southernmost point of my walk.

The forest is massive.  Did I mention that?

Proof that I really was there.

Decisions.

A few final autumn colours as the sun sets.

It's a fox!  I need to work on my wildlife photography skills.

Here's a quick glimpse at the stars.  They alone made the very real risk of hypothermia worth it.

Mid by Midwest

Hello from Minnesota - you betcha (as apparently they say around here).  We're in Minneapolis-St Paul because Hannah has a Chevron conference here, and I thought I'd tag along to see part of the country I've never been to before.  She got picked up in a limo and flew direct, I went by BART and via Denver.  But I did get to fly Frontier, and they give you free warm cookies on their flights.

She's got close-to-24-hour seminars, receptions and dinners, so tomorrow I'm heading up north to do some walking on the Superior Hiking Trail.  It's meant to be one of the top ten in the country, following a long ridge along the edge of the Great Lake.  Oh, and did I mention that this city is home to the biggest mall in America?!  Maybe I should just spend two days walking around that...

Spooky

I don't believe in ghosts.  Mainly because they don't exist, but also because I know enough scary living people to bother filling the world with scary dead ones too.  But that wasn't going to stop me agreeing to go on a San Francisco Ghost Hunt with Sarah and Drew.

We met our guide Jim at the Queen Anne Hotel.  He was quite easy to spot as he was dressed like a Victorian and carrying a lamp.  We started there, learning about Miss Mary Lane, the ghost of a schoolteacher (the hotel used to be a girl's school) who visits room 410 and...tucks people into bed.  Several visitors have reported finding an extra blanket on top of them in the morning.

From there it was outside, where we wandered down a part of California Avenue that has been visited in the past by the ghost of Flora Sommerton, fleeing an unhappy engagement.  Nothing tonight.  We then stopped outside a house haunted by one Claudia Chambers and were presented with a supernatural key.  Sometimes it turns by itself in your hand!

The Atherton Mansion, our next destination, is haunted by four different ghosts; three women and one man.  If I was him I'd have passed on to the other side just to get some peace.  We finished at the house of Mary Ellen Pleasant.  She was far more interesting in life than in death, being a highly successful (and slightly dodgy) local businesswoman, and organiser of the Underground Railroad.  As a ghost her main malevolence seems to be throwing nuts from six trees she planted.

All in all it was a little less than the eerie experience I was expecting, and there were no encounters with the spirit world.  At least, none that I could see.

As the sun goes down, the ghosts come out.  In theory.

Hannah waits in the Queen Anne lobby for the tour to begin.

Hannah, Drew and Sarah show off our guide's unexplained energy meter thing.

The unexplained energy meter thing.

Checking out the stairs.

Room 410 used to be Miss Mary's office.  Drew searches for cold spots (a certain sign of spiritual manifestation).

The decor is really nice.

Sarah picks up the phone, and there's no one on the other end!

Our guide, the scariest thing on display.

Out and about in the Pacific Heights neighbourhood.

It looks like a normal key, but...

...it's actually haunted!

Outside a house that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, a well-known spiritualist, stayed at.

The four-ghost mansion.

Drew found a ghost finding app for his iPhone!  Nothing here either. 

Final scary photo.

Humming

Along with the SF air show, we've been enjoying a more organic flight display this summer with our hummingbirds!  Apparently they'll be migrating soon, down to Mexico and Panama (nice!), so I thought I would put up some of my pictures of more frequent visitors.  Mum bought us a feeder when she was out here, but actually catching them using it is a challenge as the little critters are fast.

They also happen to be extremely aggressive.  After several weeks of generally chasing each other around our little plastic flowers, one of them took up residence the line that holds up our sun blinds.  Whenever any of his colleagues came close he would shout at them (they're loud too) and, if that didn't work, take a flying lunge, sharp beak ready to fence away intruders.  Lacking a telly, watching this is my greatest daily entertainment.

They've been thin in number recently, but will apparently be back in February.  They've been known to stop on oil rigs on their way over the Gulf of Mexico, again showing what an important environmental service Chevron offers to all species on this planet.  I'll miss them, but things will certainly be less noisy and angry around here for a few months.

And here is my project for next year.

This guy always sits on the same branch on a tree out the front, our guard-bird.  They're very territorial too.  So much aggression in such a small package!  Reminds me of my sister.

Sticking his tongue out.

Gorging on my home-made sugarwater.

Two at once!  This didn't last long.

This is our pet out the back, on his favourite perch.  He even attempted to attack Alana's flower print trousers when she was staying.  That beak could do some damage.