Wheeler Peak Wilderness- Near Taos, NM

Half the Fun is Getting the Shot

The photos I shot last summer in the Wheeler Peak Wilderness only strengthen the Navajo claim that turquoise comes from the sky.
Don’t give me the credit, though. Instead, attribute these colors to the distinctive light that has brought artists to New Mexico for centuries. This is a quality so intense that even my inexpensive Kodak was able to pick up the grime on the snow in La Cal Basin, while in my landscape taken from Bull-of-the-Woods Mountain, the distant hills flex like muscles beneath a shiny coat of fur.
Though I’m proud of these photos, I’d be satisfied if they remained private memories of my hike through the Land of Enchantment. But having recently found a way to share them with others who care just as much about such wild places, I pulled them off my computer and smelled the pinyon all over again.
In celebration of its 70th birthday, one of America’s most influential conservation groups is expanding its annual photography contest. The 2006 National Wildlife Federation’s Photography Awards now have separate divisions for professionals, amateurs and youths. The 36th year of the contest will also include six new categories: mammals, birds, underwater life, baby animals, people and nature, landscapes and plant life and extreme weather. All images must be of subjects in North America and cannot be enhanced in any way.
WWW.NWF.ORG displays the winning images of last year’s contest, photos that will inspire you to get out there and find your own winning subject. From a drowsy brown bear to the small, magical world of an insect, it’s obvious why these photos impressed the judges. This year’s submissions will be considered by a small group of accomplished photographers as well editors from Nature’s Best Photography and Smithsonian magazines.
Don’t let the tough competition or the judges’ resumes intimidate you. It seems to me that a lot of nature photography depends on being in the right place at the right time. As talented and as patient as last year’s grand prize winner probably is, she was still lucky enough to have been attacked by a great gray owl!
I don’t expect any of my New Mexico shots to impress these judges so much as to dip into the $5,000 prize purse, but I did check the box that donates my submissions to the NWF, which may then use them for their educational programs or anything else consistent with their mission.
Since 1936, the NWF has played a key role in protecting North America’s water and land and the wildlife that inhabits it. Right here in New England, their efforts have helped strengthen the populations of bald eagles and peregrine falcons. They have worked to conserve forests and prevent river erosion in the Green Mountains and have trained students in New Hampshire to restore important wildlife habitats.
Obviously, with all these resources right here in the Northeast, rushing to New Mexico before the contest deadline of July 15 is not necessary. From state parks to your own backyard, you’re bound to find something appropriate for one of the six categories.
With over twenty state organizations in the New England Camera Club Council, Connecticut is full of photography resources as well. One such organization is the New Britain Camera Club, an easygoing group that welcomes photographers of all levels, offering them advice and fostering their interest. Visit www.nbcameraclub.home.comcast.net.
The NBCC also holds monthly photo competitions for its members and their November award for this year is designated for nature photography. From flora to mineral, all subjects in nature are fair game to the NBCC, but what members call "the hand of man" must not be present. This includes buildings, man-made objects, and even domesticated animals or cultivated plants.
Your own property, however, can still be an ideal place for nature photography. The NBCC’s April newsletter, in fact, includes member Steve Wronker’s article "Backyard Bird Photography Tips." By following the NWF’s four guidelines for attracting birds to your property- "food, water, cover and a place to raise their young"- Wronker has compiled a list of 67 bird species that he has spotted in his own yard.
Photographing from an open window, Wronker stays out of sight from the birds, but when they do see him, he is patient until they become used to his presence.
Wronker suggests that bird photographers use a slow film and that their shutter speed be set to 1/500 of a second to capture the quick motions of the subject. Digital photographers, on the other hand, have an advantage because they can experiment by trial and error, seeing immediately what works and what doesn’t. Whatever equipment you choose, though, Wronker suggests you focus on the eyes of the bird.
Our backyards can attract all kinds of wildlife, though. Sometimes we just don’t know it. Last year, I read an article on how to rig a system for capturing nocturnal animals on film. Using a cheap camera and pork chops, this one-exposure-a-night process gave the ultra-patient author some fascinating shots of foxes, raccoons and even a yellow lab. The author admits, however, that these awesome pictures would never win any awards because his primitive contraption was always evident in the prints.
But the word "primitive" is relative. With all the technology that’s available to us today, it’s easy to forget what the pioneers of photography had to endure for even a mediocre print. Lugging their glass negatives, boxy cameras and cumbersome tripods into the woods was an accomplishment in itself. Now that most of us are outfitted with the ubiquitous camera phone, it’s hard not to be prepared when we find ourselves in the right place at the right time. Even so, getting to that place and waiting for that time requires one of the most important traits of a good nature photographer- patience.

Mattabesett Trail Near Beseck Mountain

Black Clouds, Lakes and a Mountain, too

According to the Connecticut Walk Book, the name "Beseck" is derived from a Native American word for black. Last Saturday, when the toying sun went in for good, I found out why a certain lake in Middlefield holds that name.
The deepest part of Beseck Lake is 25 feet, but while the rain spun its wheels over New England all last week, its dark water lapped on the boat ramp a little higher than usual. Beseck wasn’t unique in that sense. The state’s rivers were especially affected by the historic rainfall. From May 12-13, the Quinnipiac River’s gauge in Southington measured a flow of nearly 1,000 cubic feet per second. With a recommended flow of 150 to 200 for safe paddling, I instead chose the flatwater of Beseck for the first paddle in my new touring kayak.
Only three empty trailers sat in the lot on Route 147 that afternoon. A father and his sons cast from the soggy shore where the green leaves of trees touched the water. They said they had no luck and I blamed the bad weather as I struggled with my boat’s spray skirt. I soon gave up, stuffed it behind my seat and shoved off, just hoping I wouldn’t get poured on.
The flatwater I came here for wasn’t so flat as the waves were more likely to flood the boat than a downpour. I let the heavy wind push me into the wilder corner of the lake, where waterfront cottages and their docks are replaced by low-hanging limbs and pondweed.
My binoculars were strung around my neck, but the bumpy ride made it hard to identify anything save the obvious mallard. But even the most recognizable creatures were obscured through the lenses. A beaver or a woodchuck on shore simply became a mammal, while the creature that darted by me was not a cardinal, not a scarlet tanager, just a red bird.
In this same shallow corner, two men cast from a canoe. Their electric motor was off and their anchor line was taut. A few larger boats crept over the deeper water. These held back on the huge amounts of horsepower coiled within, not yet permitted to exceed the 8 mph limit until June 15 here on the 120 acres of public water wreathed by private homes.
Circling the lake, I saw only two men fishing from one of these properties. The backyard of Rover’s Bar also remained empty as the water began to mirror the darkening sky. When I returned to the ramp, a man trailering his boat said he managed to pull out a few small bass and a perch today. He didn’t seem pleased.
The DEP’s weekly fishing report from May 17, however, mentions Beseck as a place where largemouth bass fishing is "picking up." The report also warns sportsmen that the state’s river fishing is "difficult to dangerous" until the recent flooding subsides.
The bad weather kept outdoorsman and women of all kinds indoors. Even the Route 66 parking area at the Mattabesett Trail near Guida’s Restaurant had about the same amount of cars as the lot I just left. I had explored the section of Higby Mountain just north of here, but my hiking of the Mattabesett Trail between Routes 66 and 68 in Durham was incomplete. I wondered if Beseck Mountain offered any views of its namesake lake that I had just lapped. The topo map doesn’t rule it out, so I was back the next afternoon to see for myself.
Sunday’s late afternoon rain was heavier than Saturday’s, so the trail between my truck and Guida’s was in worse shape than usual; water was actually flowing down the trail and the only way to pass the mud pools was to use the downed trees as bridges.
Over the wet pavement of 66, under the crackling powerlines and down past a ruined chimney, I clipped through a few hundred feet of the Black Pond State Wildlife Area. Somewhere in the green cover, runoff was rushing down Beseck Mountain as I hiked up it.
From the cliffs, I saw that Black Pond was deserted, while just yesterday, despite the drizzle, several boats had been skimming the water. Now, in the all-out rain, only a swan navigated through the weeds, dead reckoning to its mate hundreds of yards away, resting in their wet, grassy home.
Sometimes rain can bring out the best in a trail. The view that hikers usually come to Beseck Mountain for was obscured by fog, forcing me to focus on the trail itself. The north-facing moss glowed against the saturated earth, while sagging columbine and chokecherry held the burden of raindrops.
I soon passed three abandoned cars, which somehow carried similar mysteries as the crumbling chimney behind me. Ahead, I saw a rise and a clearing that I imagined would bring me to the view of Beseck Lake I had been hoping to find.
Instead, it was Powder Ridge. I had passed Beseck Lake. A fog had fallen over the ski runs as somewhere behind the clouds and rain, the sun was setting. I had three miles to backtrack to Route 66, but I stepped up onto the unloading platform of the ski lift to look around for a moment. Here at the top of a green ski slope, it was obvious that winter was over. Summer, however, sure seemed far away.

Trail Running: Learning the Hard Way

I couldn’t tell if it had been a bone, a tendon or the stick I stepped on that made the popping sound, but after I crossed the finish line two and a half miles later, my ankle was the size and color of a pomegranate. The EMTs suggested they take me to the hospital for x-rays, but being curious about my race results, I stuck around and drove myself later.
It turned out to be a sprain and I was running again within a couple of weeks. A year later, it can still get a little sore, but certainly not enough to prevent me from running the Brooksvale Boogie again this year.
But next Sunday I’ll be bringing to the race a newfound respect for the sport of trail running. That, and some lessons learned the hard way about preparation, form and proper footgear.
Race Director Bob O'Brien, however, is excited about his own changes for this year’s Boogie.
"We’re going to add a five-mile race to try to appeal more to the serious trail runners out there," said O’Brien. This course, along with the original three mile race, will wind through the 416-acres of varied terrain at Brooksvale Park, the home woods of Hamden High’s cross-country teams.
"I would describe it as moderately difficult," said O’Brien, head coach of the Hamden boy's cross-country and track teams. "It’s got some flat, grassy areas, but it’s also got some steep hills and narrow, rugged trails. There are definitely some challenging parts to it."
One of the biggest challenges I found last year was resisting the temptation to capitalize on gravity. Trucking down a hill in mile one, my first trail race was off to a good start. But in a split second, I had rolled my ankle, which is something O’Brien has seen a lot of on the trails
"It’s a common thing," said O’Brien. "Be really careful on the downhills. You can sprain your ankle anywhere, but the force will be greater going downhill."
It may be a common injury, but it’s also a preventable one. O’Brien, who ran both cross-country and track at the University of New Hampshire, says that patience and preparation are the keys to a rewarding trail race.
"Ease into it," he said. "Find a good park with a lot of trails. Get to the point where you find a loop that’s a good distance and build up to two, three, four miles in the woods."
My favorite runs have been hours-long treks on the blue and green trails at Sleeping Giant State Park and the Mattabessett Trail. While the terrain here doesn’t always encourage running, I hike the rougher sections to allow for an active recovery from running the smoother portions. My biggest problem on these excursions is keeping my heart rate up when I am sidetracked by something interesting, like the sluggish milksnake I almost stepped on last fall.
On these longer, solo runs, I wear a hydration pack with pockets for a Clif Bar, first-aid kit and a cell phone. Trust me, I’m the last guy you’ll catch talking on the phone in the woods, but when I came across an injured hiker recently and was able to call for help, I realized just how useful these annoying devices can be.
If trail running by yourself doesn’t sound appealing, the Hartford Track Club offers a group trail run every Thursday at 6:00 p.m. at the MDC Reservoir in Farmington. The reservoir has loops of 3, 5 and 8 miles, allowing runners at all levels to benefit from these cooperative training sessions.
Aside from logging mileage, other factors are just as important to your success in the woods. Stretching, for example, is essential for balance and for preventing injuries. You should expect to strain your body while competing on the trails, so by giving your joints and muscles a bit more give, you make yourself less likely to limp off the course.
There are things to consider during the race, too, such as your stride and the anticipation of potential hazards.
"Stay on your toes, especially over the really rugged parts," said O’Brien. "If you are too close to the person in front of you, you may not be able to see an upcoming obstacle, like a rock or a root."
Such terrain can be too much for regular running shoes, which are usually too soft for the unpredictable footing you'll encounter. Also, as most trail races are rain or shine, the knobbier soles of trail shoes will provide better traction on slick surfaces. Outside magazine’s 2006 Buyer’s Guide suggests several good models of trail runners under $90, including the magazine’s "Gear of the Year"-winning Vasque Blur. Other names like Montrail, North Face and Merrell also cater specifically to trail runners, but most good names in running offer an affordable trail shoe as well. Most are durable, lightweight and made from high-tech materials.
Outside also says that this shift in trail shoe technology is linked to the manufacturers’ response to a growth in the sport. You might be surprised, however, as participation in trail races are usually much lower than your regular road race, with somewhere between 50-100 runners.
"It’s fairly unique," said O’Brien. "It’s a real niche market."
But word is getting out. An article in the June issue of Runner’s World reports that trail running is among the nation’s most popular outdoor sports, growing by 50% since 2000.
While most area trail races range between 5k and 20k in distance, there are those longer races for the truly adventurous, such as the Nipmuck Trail Marathon in Ashford, Connecticut on May 28th. If 26.2 miles of rocks, roots and dirt is still not enough, you can join those die-hards who spend days on mule-assisted runs in places as wild as the River of No Return in Idaho.
But before you book your trip out West, remember to ease into it. Next Sunday, Hamden will be a great place to start. You won’t even need a mule.

Contact Me or Read More

Readers can contact me at trauner1975@yahoo.com or read past stories from the New Haven Register and other publications at my regular web site, www.scotttrauner.com . The site you are currently visiting, however, will be the online headquarters of True Northeast- a place to catch up on columns, view more photos and to comment on or interact with the print version. I am always interested in new story ideas, corrections and clarifications. Also, your outdoor news and events will be included in the print calendar. Thanks for reading!

Welcome to True Northeast

When Ernest Hemingway hit a wall with his writing, he’d give himself some simple advice: "All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know."
Here’s one: If I’ve already hit a wall, I’m in big trouble.
But unless it’s in a climbing gym, I don’t plan on hitting any walls for a long time. That’s because the mission of this new column is to bring you Connecticut outdoor sports each week, and while our state may be one of the smallest in the nation, it still somehow holds 250 miles of coastline, 51 state parks, 15 state forests, 700 miles of blue-blazed hiking trails, 8,400 miles of rivers and streams and over 6,000 lakes and ponds. Here in Central Connecticut, we have an almost unfair claim to these natural resources.
The Mattabesett and Metacomet Trails run right over the traprock ridges of the state’s midline, and together with the Monadnock of Massachusetts, are on the verge of marrying into the family of National Scenic Trails. With only eight such trails in America, and with the legendary Appalachian clipping 53 miles of Connecticut’s Northwest corner, few states are lucky enough to have two nationally protected trails within an hour of each other.
Then there is the Connecticut River, that watery spine of New England that begins way up in Canada and endures four hundred miles to the sail-spiked horizon of Long Island Sound. Central Connecticut’s smaller rivers don’t just feed the Connecticut’s Soundward flow, but also the appetites of adventure-hungry paddlers. Throughout the humid summers, the Farmington River is dotted with rafts and canoes, while kayakers and flyfishermen share the same spring-swollen currents of Salmon River State Forest.
But where there are lots of parks, there are lots of people. The fact that Connecticut is the third densest state in the nation with over 700 people per square mile may seem detrimental to the natural resources listed here. In some cases it is, but there are also some positive ironies to this paradox. The next time you’re sitting in traffic, count the cars that are outfitted with bike racks and boat trailers, or that have Appalachian Mountain Club stickers in the windows.
This dense population is a resource in itself. In other words, responsible recreation is the key to preservation; these adventurous Nutmeggers are stakeholders in the land and are often the same people who comprise land trusts, maintain trails and volunteer at river cleanups. I know, because I’ve already met a bunch of them.
Two years ago, I began working with New Haven Register Sports editor Matt Pepin on what he envisioned to be a smaller, local version of National Geographic Adventure. What followed was a series of over a dozen outdoor features, each nearly 2000-words long and embedded with exciting photography, graphics and profiles of some of the state’s most skilled outdoor enthusiasts.
Working for the Register taught me a lot- especially that adventure can be found everywhere. Although I’ve traveled to some of the most exciting destinations in the world, from the pastoral Lake District of England to the windy peaks of the Sangre de Cristos, Connecticut still comes up while exchanging adventures.
My assignments for the Register brought me deep into limestone caves, had me skimming along on snowshoes, found me working the back of a sailboat in a regatta, battling surf in a kayak, winding down forgotten rivers in canoes, discovering ruins in the bare, autumn landscape, and, of course, my favorite, hiking through some of the most beautiful woods in the world. All within our state’s borders.
Matt Pepin has since taken on the role of Executive Editor of The New Britain Herald, The Middletown Press and The Bristol Press. Now we have a new vision, which is to give Central Connecticut readers a content that is just as exciting, but that is more focused and more frequent.
I say, "Welcome to ‘True Northeast,’" but you’ve been here all along. I chose this name because in Central Connecticut we find a true sample of wild New England. Sure, there are wilder places north of us, and therefore the name leaves us some room to wander throughout the region. After all, adventure and wayfaring go hand in hand.
But like a wayfarer’s compass, True Northeast will guide readers with the most accurate journaling of trips and the most honest reviews of books, guides and gear.
People have always turned to the woods to find truth and the Northeast has been notorious for such reflection. It was Thoreau who wrote in Walden, "rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth."
Come back each week, and I’ll try to. That’s about the truest thing I know right now.