Life

Is a circus - or so it seemed as I rode to circus practice the other day with all of the necessary ingredients - a pad, practice fire staves and a bit of humor! Did I miss anything?

Family and Community

The topic of "community" is important at Dartmouth. From the day I arrived on campus, meeting the people on my freshmen trip and then meeting my freshman floor community, I searched for an understanding of community. But, what in the world is community, and how do you find it? Was it in the multitude of group meetings I attend every week? Or my classmates? For me it wasn't any of these. I didn’t really sense "community" during my freshman year, not the chilling, shooting the shit, unfiltered conversation, comfortable "community" that I wanted.

I actually didn’t find it until I moved off campus. If you have read many of my post , then you  know that the "Pebble", my off campus house, is a pretty special place. It has a backyard, a kitchen and a chest freezer. I will come back to the chest freezer in a bit. Even more special than the place itself, are our neighbors and the people surrounding the pebble - the "Cooldesac" as we call it. These amazing people started a tradition of "family dinners" during my sophomore year. Each dinner was cooked by whoever felt like it, and the ‘family’ invited was everyone people could possibly think to invite. Needless to say, food was enjoyed in quantity, which is where the handy dandy freezer came in.

Every time you deal with dinner + college kids, it always seems to come down to petty splitting of pennies and dimes for chipping in. With the chest freezer and bulk food costs, the cook could just grab food out of the house freezer and not worry about whose label was on the bag of chicken. This resolved tensions, and created an atmosphere of "community"  that translated into hours of eating, sharing stories, joking and general merriment during each get together -- at least once a week. From that point, the events grew. We almost never have a group of people who all know each other, and when we do, it is just as well. It took the right place, food and environment to foster my special community. What makes yours?

Easy Commute

I made a pact with myself. With an engineering internship for the fall term, I looked forward to working, but I also had something to prove. I wanted to learn about working as an engineer, but more importantly, I wanted to prove to myself that I could continue to have an active lifestyle while doing so -- by biking to work every day. After looking at maps, I saw that I could mountain bike commute over Burnt Mountain from Hanover to Lebanon, NH.

That meant weaving  around rocks and roots moments after waking up, heading to work only to pant uphill by headlamp for three miles before dropping into windy singletrack for a wild ride down.

The commute became the highlight of my day. Not only was the ride a fun and challenging one, but by riding the same track every day, I watched the season change day by day.

The ride was not without some mishaps. On day one, I carried my bike through a swamp only to exit the trail network on the wrong side of the mountain, slogging to work an hour late. On day three, I took a sapling down on the way home with my handlebars, sending me flying. On day four, I broke a chain halfway to work and pushed my bike the rest of the way. By day five, after going over the handlebars so perfectly that my bike landed, perfectly balanced, wheels still spinning, on my back, I was getting used to recounting my commute to my co-workers. I don’t know if they fully believed me, but I felt bad for anyone that didn’t have the chance to adventure every day and see some stunning fall colors.

Then there was Heat!

The walls went up. The paint was on. The window was set. And so ended my weekend, but I couldn’t let it sit there without finishing the sauna. So I woke up at 6, ready to saw at 7. I figured people were waking up around that time. Or at least they would be now! From then on, I worked during the 2 hours before work and until 9 a night. To say I slept well would be the understatement of the century.

 

The insulation went in pretty easily if not "itchily" - I swear I will be old before all the fiberglass fibers come out of my jacket. Then I tacked the vapor barrier over the insulation. I can’t tell you how blinding it is to be in a room working with a headlamp staring down a mirrored surface.

With the sauna looking like a 1970’s attempt to make a room look larger, I started working on the floor and stove, putting in heat shields where the stove would sit and marking out where the pipe would poke through the ceiling. Sensing the end, I took a day off work, recruited some friends and hammered on the white pine siding for the inside of the sauna. The reason for white pine over cedar was mostly based on cost; pine was 4 times cheaper than cedar and just as mildew resistant. With each section, we were a little closer to firing her up. By 10:30 at night, I had the stove in, the paneling up and the last piece of the bench installed. I couldn’t even sneak in a sauna before I fell asleep.

First there was a shed

I had a project itch; this happens every so often. Usually it is correlated with an unfinished project sitting in my garage. This time though the source was an unstarted project and its potential. The potential was killing me. You see, I had a wood stove sitting in my garage. Just a stove, but with that stove I envisioned an amazing project. I imagined an escape from sore skiing muscles, from NE cold, from stress. I saw a sauna. Not just any sauna - a wood burning sauna made from scratch - designs and all, ready to be moved out when I graduate in three years.

So I got to work measuring, drawing and creating specs. Drawn out, priced and ready to start in a week,  It was the most prepped I have ever felt before starting a project. With time ticking, I ordered parts and recruited help. On a beautiful Saturday, with five friends, we started the sauna. My goal was to get the frame up.

The foundation was set with cinderblock porch supports. The floor was insulated with foam, and protected from critters with hardware cloth. My design idea was to minimize cost and weight, so I could jack up the floor and pull a trailer underneath to move the sauna when I graduate.

The walls went together with room for a window and a simple galvanized shed roof.

Then the osb siding went on, with a final coat of brown paint so my neighbors wouldn’t notice our new addition to the culdesac. By the end of the day we had a shed! I guess this completes step 1, and by the time the sauna is ready, I will sorely need a sauna!

Bike on!

It's not like I am totally out of breath. It's that I went from riding flats to climbing so hard that my lungs hurt. They don’t like what I’m doing to them, but they can suck it up. Because the hill can’t be that high, right? I am in the east.

I am reminded of this every time I go riding in New England. I assume that since I am in the east the hills will be small hills, and riding should be short and easy. One would think that I would understand that with trail names like "the spine" and "coronary" that the reality would be different.  So, here I am on another NE mountain bike ride, with a pair of lungs that are in the midst of mutiny. I finally top out over the first pitch, but the flats also have a way of reminding me that I am on an eastern trail. I stand on my pedals attempting to get enough torque to continue moving through a combination of slick roots and ill-placed rocks. It is almost a relief to reach the next hill, until I remember that my lungs and I were in the middle of an argument. By the time I top out on the measly 550’ ‘peak’, I’m just about exhausted, and that was just the uphill of lap 1.

NE downhills are similar to going down the Heavenly Daze ski trail in Steamboat on a crowded day, after a few inches of fresh snow at mach speed. By that point everything that had once been nice and flat was now a long irregular bump line topped off with a crowd of people, skis, gloves, and other ‘things’ to dodge. (Not that I would ever bomb Heavenly Daze in peak season!) Similarly, on the bike trails every speck of dirt that has ever been flat has washed away, and all that is left on the trails are rocks and roots waiting to snag my tire out from under me. So I hang on, willing my bike to go straight.

One would think that after all this I would hate NE riding, but I surely don’t. In fact, after riding over every rock and after making it down each pitch in one piece, I usually have a perma smile that doesn’t get washed away with the dirt after my ride.