The first day of summer? What kid dreads the start of summer?
Not summer per se. Rather, what that “start” represented.
The demise.
The demise, curiously, of sunlight. For June 21 (or thereabouts) marks the longest period of daylight of the year: 14 hours and 39 minutes. But from then on we start getting shortchanged, imperceptibly at first, on sunshine. A few seconds a day at first. At the end of June, the sun set at 8:37 p.m.; tonight (Sept. 3), it will be down at 7:42 p.m. By the end of September the sun will set at 7:02 p.m. and come Halloween it will be down at 6:22 p.m. Let’s not even talk about November and the end of Daylight Saving Time.read more
I’d been hiking the ridge for five minutes, aware of the fading light filtering through the hardwoods. I was in the waning minutes of daylight and wasn’t about to pass without a memorable goodbye. So why was I still moving? I should take a minute to stop and take this in, I thought. So I did.read more
100-plus degrees? 80 percent humidity? And a “feels like” rating of Phoenix?
Certainly doesn’t inspire thoughts of a day on the trail. A long day, at least.
That’s why this time of year we pull out our Summer Shorts: hikes long enough to sate your thirst for trail, but short enough to prevent heatstroke.read more
I used to love hiking in summer heat. The past couple years, though, not so much. Coming into this summer I got to wondering why.
As we’ve settled in to summer’s steady drumbeat of 90/90 — temperature/humidity — days, I’ve been trying to sort out what I don’t like about summer hiking, as well as what keeps me on the trail. The latter first.read more
It wasn’t even a blisteringly hot day, It was April, temperature in the upper 70s under clear skies. Dry, clear skies. Perfect day for a hike. Yet I was nearing the end of a 14-mile outing that included a relentless 5-mile climb to start and a knee-punishing 3-mile descent near the end. I was pooped, and while the last mile back to the car was a mellow downhill, I needed refreshing. I needed the clear, cold waters of Basin Creek. I pulled off my hiking shoes and socks, rolled up my pant legs and dipped in up to the knees.read more
