New England Ice: Scratch Your Way Up - January 2000
During 7-9 January 2000 I returned to the White Mountains of New Hampshire to do some ice climbing. The ice was a little thin, but we managed to get up some of the classic slab, waterfall and alpine routes in the Crawford Notch area, notably Willey's Slide, Arethusa Falls and a great day of mixed rock and ice climbing on Mt. Willard's Hitchcock Gully, my favorite route on the trip. Unfortunately I was laid a bit low by the flu while in New Hampshire, so for the first two days and into the third I was only at about half- to two-thirds strength. Still, I had a great time.

Where the Day Takes You: NEI Revisited - January 2001
Brian and I did a trip to New Hampshire in January of 2001. We managed to get up a few moderate classics and attempted a ski tour of Mt. Garfield. It was a great trip and a real learning experience.

Shut Down... Again - February 2001
Brian and I followed up our January trip to New Hampshire with a quick and dirty day and a half trip back up to Crawford Notch in late-February 2001. We climbed efficiently and made the best of our time up north, but weather shut us down on an attempt on Mt. Webster's Landslide Gully, to which we defaulted after finding the approach of our initial goal, Shoestring Gully, under several feet of untracked snow. It was sad to not top out, but climbing with Brian is always a good time, and we gave it our best shot. In the end it was good for the soul.

Desperate But Not Serious - January 2002
Despite grim predictions of hellaciously thin to nonexistent ice up north, Brian and I agreed to drive up to Conway and take a look around. What the heck? And besides, local descriptions of thin ice didn't faze us. What is "thin" to someone accustomed to having a minimum of three-foot-thick ice on all climbs, all season, wouldn't care to see the levels to which Mid-Atlantic climbers are routinely reduced during our "winter" down south. A fine time, with much trivia and happy diversion.

Hurry Down Doomsday - March 2002
By the time we made it back to New Hampshire this year, everything that wasn't high[er] alpine was out. Fallen down. Melted. Scrapola. For the climber wanting to see the frozen this late in the game, that climber must go high. That climber must slog. But hey, as we've said: we slog. Oh yes. Yes we do. Just you try and stop us.

Polaroid Surprise - January 2003
Remember when you went out to climb, and when you went out to climb it wasn't about the grade, or the status, or anything you were trying to prove to anyone, anywhere, about anything? Remember when you went out to climb, and it was about the beauty of the mountains, and it was about being there, in a moment, and moments that lasted weeks, fading softly, dimly, but never forgotten? Do you remember when you climbed, and climbing was about two things: getting up the thing, and getting down it again?

Nameless - March 2003
We went north. And west-ish. More to the left than has become customary. To Vermont, that is. Maple syrup, barn roofs destroyed by fire. Great tracts of land. Not from around here.

Pogue Mahone - March 2003
I'd wanted to do a solo ice climbing trip for a few years now. A trip on which I would climb something big, but not too hard, and nothing that would make me perspire too heavily. For when I came down again, and the film crews all wanted a piece of me, I couldn't look all shiny. My fans deserve better.

En (and off) Route - January 2005
Pretending to climb, again, in Crawford Notch. Here comes the rain again. I get around.