Barack Obama

October 26, 2008 – Fort Collins, CO

P = N*R*T

This is simple algebra that I learned in sixth grade. The number of people who make it through security, P, is equal to the number of metal detectors, N, times the rate at which people can pass through the metal detectors, R, times the amount of time you allow for security screening, T. Now, if N = 15 metal detectors, R = 400 people per metal detector per hour, and T = 2 hours, then P = 12,000. Now, what happens when the actual value for P = 50,000?

I knew today was a hopeless cause when around 11:00 a.m. I checked the Fort Collins Coloradoan online and saw this headline, “Line for Obama Rally at CSU over 1 Mile Long”. Ouch. But how often does a presidential candidate come to your little town a week before they make history? So, Paula and I decided to be a part of history. Ours was a case of optimization: I figured that we had no chance to see Barack Obama, so how much time did we really want to waste on this endeavor? The math was simple; the speech was at 3:30 p.m., the gates opened at 1:30 p.m. We had no chance. So, I figured I could waste two hours of my life.

Being the good Democrat, as is Paula, and the good Green Party member, as am I, we rode our bikes to the Forest Service where we started walking. We were smart enough to call our friend Brianna to find out where the end of the line was; she and David had cued up about 45 minutes earlier. With good advice in hand we headed west to Pitkin Rd. where we found the mass of humanity and took our place at the end.

But we weren’t at the end for long. It was humorous to see an incredible line of supporters walking counter to the real line as they searched in frustration for the end. After half-and-hour I followed them about half-a-mile backward to the new end, which was ironically close to the Forestry building and the entrance to the rally at the CSU Oval.

Waiting wasn’t as bad as you might imagine. This was probably because I had written off our chances of seeing Obama. So we joked with our neighbors, called Brianna (at 3:00, “No, not moving yet.”), and set very manageable goals, like reaching the stop sign 100 feet ahead of us.

We joked about what awaited us at the end. I imagined something like my trip to the National Zoo in D.C. back in the 80’s when they had the baby panda and everyone shuffled in line for a 5 second glimpse at the cute fur-ball. In a similar manner, maybe we would parade by and get our snapshot of the Obama rally. My favorite one was that we’d get there just in time to hear, “Thank you Colorado. Good night.”

We slowly worked our way towards Shields St. Every once in a while a SUV would pass with windows down, jeering and waving a McCain-Palin sign. But in general everyone was civilized.

Sometime after 3 p.m. the line finally started moving. First up to Moby Arena, then across to the Union, and around to the Forestry Building. At first it was slow, but anything was better than our 2 hour standstill. Then it was brisk. People started cutting across to different parts of campus. We could hear cheers. Eventually we heard the ‘essence’ of Obama’s voice. Then we cut a path north to the historic Oval. The words were clearer. We passed through security (what security?). Then there were lots of people. I couldn’t make sense of which structure was the podium. We walked the Oval counterclockwise. The voice was getting more impassioned. The crowd was really excited. Paula and I stopped and listenen.

“… and God bless the United States of America!”


Urgh, so what do we do now?

We hung around a bit. I still couldn’t make out any people on the stage. Hell, I couldn’t make out the stage. So we proceeded around the Oval until we got to a barricade. I stood on my toes and noticed people we still pretty excited. Maybe Obama was still there. And then I saw a figure give a wave and turn around and walk into a building. Was that him? It could have been. He was wearing a white shirt, no tie, and a dark jacket. Then the guy beside me remarked, “Did you see him? He just waved and walked into that building.”

It lasted about one-half a second. It reminded me of a drive through Shenandoah National Park and I yelped to Paula, “Look, bear!” After we got home I checked out the Coloradoan. Paula and I watched the other 34 minutes of his 35 minute speech. And yes, he was wearing a white shirt, no tie, and dark jacket.

Just think, there were probably 10,000 people in line behind us who didn’t even see that much.

October 10, 2008 – Keene, NY

Paula and I awake at 6:00 a.m. to get an early start on today’s hike. There are no alarm clocks here at the Bark Eater Inn, so when Paula asks for the time, I look through the darkness at my pocket watch and see 5 o’clock and declare that we have yet another hour of sleep. Fortunately I turn on the light and see my error; alas, our day starts too early. The inn keeper knows that we are rolling out early this morning for the summit of Mt. Marcy, so she has set out granola and muffins for us to take on the road. After a quick stop in Keene for some coffee and orange juice we are on our way.

The colors in the Adirondacks of upstate New York are breathtaking. I think the drive between Keene and Lake Placid may be among the most charming I’ve ever made. There is a series of narrow lakes that fill the crevice between two dramatic slopes covered in amazing oranges, yellows, and reds. The highway hugs the northern shore as it slices through this majestic land. We find the turn off to the Adirondack Loj, a quaint historic lodge that doubles as the trailhead to many of the high peaks of New York state. For a 7:30 a.m. on a Friday morning in October, the hiker’s parking lot is surprisingly crowded. We gather our gear, sign in, and begin our journey up towards Mt. Marcy, the highest point in the state.

Though the sun hasn’t made it into the valley yet, the birch forest nonetheless is stunning. We walk with the fresh leaves crunching under each step. This is very different hiking than in Colorado. After a couple of miles we finally get a good view from the Marcy Dam. We cross over this very simple wood structure and pass a large group of Canadians. At first I was puzzled by all their French, but then I realized how close we are to Quebec.





And then we continue to hike. And hike. And hike. I knew this would be a long day; the summit is about 7.4 miles from the trailhead. We hike up wet rocky trail. We pass a sign ‘Mt. Marcy 6.5 miles’. We hike up wet rocky trail. 8:30 a.m. We hike up wet rocky trail. ‘Mt. Marcy 5.2 miles’. We hike up wet rocky trail. 9:30 a.m. We hike up wet rocky trail. ‘Mt. Marcy 3.2 miles’.



Finally, we reach something different. I help Paula cross a stream when we see a sign for Indian Falls. We take a path to where the stream has spread out all over an exposed sheet of rock. From here we get our first view of some of the high peaks of the Adirondacks. As we get back to the trail our Canadian group has caught up, but we convince them check out the falls so that we can continue to hike in quiet.



And then we hike up wet rocky trail. 10:30 a.m. We hike up wet rocky trail. ‘Mt. Marcy 1.4 miles’.

And finally we see it. At 5,344 ft. above sea level and imposing itself above all else is the summit. We know we’ve still got 1,000 vertical feet to go, but at least we can see our destination.





It takes another hour to get up the last mile. Most of it is spent scrambling on the exposed rock. Up till now the weather has been spectacular, but at this altitude things get a bit chilly. We stop to put on our coats, hats, and gloves. The temperature is probably in the 30s with winds gusting 20-30 mph. As we rise above timberline the wind gets very annoying. But alas, we summit at noon. A mere four-and-a-half hours after we started.





The panorama from the summit is nothing short of spectacular. The fall colored Adirondacks rise and fall in every direction. To the east is Vermont and its high point, Mt. Mansfield (which three years ago we summited despite the relentless rain and sleet). North is the village of Lake Placid and its twin Olympic ski-jump towers. My favorite view is to the south. The colors are simply wonderful. So we choose to nestle beneath a ridge for some shelter and eat our lunch gazing south toward the sun.













When a large crowd begins to gather on top we know it’s time to head down. After a half-hour on the summit we start the long, tedious hike back to the car. I would like to say that Paula and I have lots of fun from miles 7.4 to 14.8, but that would be stretching the truth. Honestly, it is incredibly hard. Paula’s feet hurt most of the time. And nothing makes you feel good when your feet feel like giving out and then you see the sign ‘Trailhead 4.4 miles’. This four-and-a-half hours is never-ending.







But as 5 p.m. approaches our anticipation grows. Then we finally see it, the parking lot. We triumphantly sign out and peel our boots off. Nine-and-a-half hours are a lot of hiking for one day and we are spent.

And hour later our evening ends appropriately: sitting on the patio of our room at the Bark Eater, eating pizza, drinking a hard earned soda, and watching the day’s final hurrah of fall colors before bedtime.



Highpoint number 18 in the bag!