Tag Archives: climbing



Yes, it finally happened.



Lord Dudley Mountcatten…. walked. In the harness. On the leash. Of his own accord.

Be still my heart.



After weeks of useless excursions when all he did was glance at me in disdain…. the other day he suited up and hit the door running.

Well, strolling is more accurate but I’ll take it. No fuss, no fight. He walked across the lawn, around the barn and woodshed, climbed the front stone wall, got tangled up in the bird bath and even lead me over to the apple trees.



Which he found quite fascinating.



I was happy to let him sit in the crook of the tree sniffing and scratching the bark, but then before I could react….




The little devil was scrambling up the tree with me still holding the leash. He wouldn’t come down, so I had to go up, and it wasn’t pretty.

Ever try to wrangle a leashed and harnessed cat out of a tree? It’s not a smooth process and I don’t recommend it.



Upon retrieval, his Lordship was exhausted and happily plopped in the shade. I, on the other hand, examined my scratched arms, broken nail and twig infested hair.

And if that wasn’t bad enough? This morning I woke up with a wicked brown tail moth rash on my neck.

Needless to say we will be giving the apple trees a wide berth from now on.


Cape Cod Day 5…. and we’re climbing.


The Pilgrims Monument in Provincetown. We came, we saw, we climbed.

And climbed. And climbed. And climbed….



Photo of my husband wondering why we don’t take relaxing vacations on the beach like normal people.


Completed in 1910 to commemorate the Pilgrim’s fist landing in Provincetown on November 21, 1620…. the tower is 252 tall and rises 350 feet above sea level.

(Those are Christmas lights radiating down from the top, not support wires. Because hey, if your monument is held up by wires? Even I’m not climbing it.)



                  No alcohol allowed? They really know how to kill a girl’s spirit.


This is the tallest all granite structure in the United States, and every single massive piece of stone came from my beautiful state of Maine.





There were a few…




But thankfully there were ramps as well.




And on the day we visited?




It was so cold, windy and damp, the walls were sweating.

We climbed what seemed like forever…. and still had a long way to go.




But there were windows along the way which we opened to peak out.




At which point the wind practically knocked us down.




Granted, looking down was a little nerve wracking.




Good thing my vertigo didn’t kick in, I’d still be there.




Onward and ever upward… we neared the top.



Run my *ss.




Gimme a few more years and I’ll be crawling.




A few more flights….





The top…




Where it was raining….




And blowing a friggin’ gale force.




Time for a quick wild haired selfie…




And a walk around the less windy sides with P’town spread out below…




A farewell to the gargoyles.




And we headed back down to collect my sticker.

I’d earned it!

White Mountains trip Day 3…. Sculptured Rocks.


Talk about your out of the way tourist attraction.





I kept directing the husband to drive and he kept thinking I was nuts. This place was in the back of beyond, on a dead end road, past a bunch of men with rifles taking target practice in their front yards.




Banjo music? A distinct possibility…




But once we found it, I was glad we persisted.

ARE YOU READY FOR SOME ROCKS?  *she sings in her best Hank Williams Jr. voice, which admittedly… is pretty lame*





To be more specific… glacial melt water sculpted rocks.




And what fabulous rocks they were.




Seriously… these rocks rocked.




The forms, the shapes…




Can you imagine the force it took to do this to solid rock?




These were impressive rocks.



Sculptured Rocks Natural Area, which spans 272 acres, is a unique example of nature’s powerful yet delicate artistry. The Cockermouth River carved a narrow canyon in bedrock on its way to Newfound Lake, beginning as the last ice age drew to a close. Nature used grains of sand suspended in the current to carve the walls of the canyon into curious shapes and create potholes in the bedrock.”We spent a good bit of time here.Climbing up, over and across the wonderful rocks.
It rocked. 


But you probably already guessed that.





And even if you’re not an aficionado like me….




You have to admit, they’re some pretty special hunks of rock.


By the way…

The husband’s ongoing challenge?

Still going.





So to speak.












Polar Caves Part 4….The fork in the road. More caves, more rocks.


As so often happens in life, we came to a fork in the road.




Mind you, by this time we’d climbed 6,492,745 steps…. so the fact that the sign to the left said difficult route? Did not fill me with joy.




But ever the supportive wife, I let the husband decide which path we’d take. Thankfully his aching back and residual sciatica made him veer right, although the name Devil’s Turnpike didn’t inspire a lot of confidence as to it’s ease of use.




Husband explored more caves.




I photographed more trees and rocks.






And climbed more steps.




And then even more steps.




And then thought about all the steps I’d have to climb down when we were through.




Did I mention there were a lot of steps?




There were a lot of steps.

Okay, back to the rocks.




Why is there never a pogo stick around when you need one?




We walked past rocks, over rocks, through rocks….




And occasionally under rocks.




While praying silently for the ground to be earthquake free.




Yeah, thanks for that helpful factoid.




As the husband climbed the Devil’s Turnpike…..




And entered the next cave…

I took the path that had my name written all over it.




All day long baby…




I do give him credit though.





He’s still pretty limber for his age…



One final cave to go… and it was called the Lemon Squeeze.




Yours truly?




Yup. Every party has a pooper… and that day, it was me.

Oddly enough the Squeeze was the husband’s downfall. He couldn’t do it. Too small, too tight.

And you know if he got stuck? He was staying there…. because I wasn’t going in after him.