Masses of People

In this post I want to compare two experiences of uncontrollable crowds.  Three years ago my family went to a New York Jets game.  My mother is about 5'00" on the dot, and to see her amongst gigantic, drunk football fans was quite a scene.  She couldn't get over the masses in the parking lots, where people perched atop their campers, grills sparked, and people threw a football to each other regardless of the hundreds of people acting like a blanket of defense.  I have never been so caught off guard in a crowded situation.  While I was loving the crowd, my mom could not understand their purpose, and why they sat outside the game as opposed to sit at home watching it on the tv.  The only reason I could give was that it was a different culture.  Not knowing the area made me feel more comfortable with the large crowd, as if they were all there to guide me to my destination, or protect me from the minority of Seattle Seahawk fans.  This past new years eve however brought on a new feeling when dealing with large crowds.  My friends and I had a party at our house, and it was going great until a mass of people poured in our house.  It seemed like we couldn't keep them out, and as if they were plotting a mutiny.  We grew very uncomfortable with the faceless people with whom we had no connection to.  In that sense I was taken aback because this was my mom, I feel as though it is my domain and I should be aware of everything and everyone who steps inside.  I did not know what it felt like to be a guest in my own home until that night, but within the hour we started to calm down and accept the party for what it was.  We brought in the new year with new friendships, and some raised voices when we told a group of chaotic members to leave.  Welcome 2012, and welcome crowds of people!

The Adventure of Spring Break

The week off could not have come any quicker!  Classes were dragging and tensions within the house were rising.  Everyone here needed a break, whether it be from each other or from the grueling work that comes with being a senior.  I took off early thursday morning heading for home, Princeton New Jersey.  The drive was quick and painless, and upon my arrival home I could already smell the vast array of home cooked meals that have filled the table throughout the past week.  I couldn't wait for my first meal home again.  Steak, asparagus and potatoes hit my table, and I hit my plate without hesitation.  After dinner my friends and I who were all around went out to the local bar, which brews their own beer.  Three "Bengal Gold IPA's" later and it felt like my friends and I had never left home.  All our college stories were coming to an end and it was just like the good old days.  The next few days my friend and I ventured into Pennsylvania to go rocks climbing and hiking.  At High Rocks Vista we climbed up the sheer rock face for hours.  My friend and I set anchors and then we would belay the other while they made the trip to the top.  I haven;t been outdoor climbing since the summer so it was a great feeling when I sensed that adrenaline rush at the first sign of fatigue.  The view from above was amazing!  A few birds swooped by at eye level, and it was great to get a sense of what they see when looking down over the sheer rock face.  That night we headed into Philadelphia to see one of our favorite bands from high school, Moe.  They played a pretty good show, filtering in all the classics throughout the three hour set.  The next few days were littered with climbing, hiking, biking, and visits to the local brewery Triumph.  It was a relaxing break filled with good friends, family, food, and of course beer.

The Climb up Little Spencer

Although the name of the mountain was Littler Spencer, there was nothing little or insignificant about the climb.  On Moosehead Lake in Greenville, Maine, My buddy and I hiked up Little Spencer.  It was a foggy day, and as we made a ascent, the fog got heavier and it turned to a mist.  We hit the hardest part of the climb when we got to what is known as "the chimney."  This narrow chute of sheer rock face demands complete concentration and a knowledge of one's one climbing abilities.  We free climbed up the chute, and once at the top of the chimney sat ourselves next to the native Maine blueberry bushes and had ourselves a feast.  Although we were both drained, we knew we had only climbed a third of Little Spencer.  The fog got heavier as did the sent of pine needles.  It was late July, but it smelled exactly like Christmas. Finally after stumbling through an area which clearly was just subject to an intense rock slide, we reached our goal, the summit of Little Spencer.  This was one of the most outrageous feelings I have ever experience.  With the dense fog, visibility was close to zero, but every few minutes the clouds would fly by and we could look out and get a sense of where on the lake we were, and how high up the summit was.  It was an outrageous feeling with the clouds whipping past, the mist striking our faces, and the heavy breathing that entailed after our gnarly climb.  Once rested up, Dave and I made our way back down Little Spencer, and once we got the Chimney we tied our rope to a tree in hopes that it would hold, and repelled down.  This seemed like a good idea instead of trying to free climb down the whole thing.  Leaving a rope behind was worth it, and we though it would be of great assistance to any future climbers.  Finally we made it back to the car which was parked on the side of a logging road in the back country of Maine.  We sat in the car exhausted, rewarded, and still perplexed by the feeling we experience at the top of Little Spencer.  That climb will always be heavy on my mind, and to this day I cannot put into words the strange euphoric feeling at the top with the clouds passing through us.