The

Legend

Bates Outing Club

2013 -14

THEContents
legend
Letter From the Editors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
Brian Kennedy & Bryan Lehrer

Note from the President. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3

Allie Balter

Reflection on 52 Years with teh Boc. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

Judy Martin

Note from our wayward Vice President. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

Alex Weissman

Director Updates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
A Katahdin Memory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Douglas Smith

The Armadillo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
Collin McCullough

BOC Climbs Red River Gorge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

Dani Klein & Audrey Wheatcroft

#SURFTERM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
John Cappetta

Caretaker Tv . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
Jordan Cargill

The BOCs BI-Annual Bivalve Bake . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

Brian Kennedy

Alumni Updates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17

Letter from the Editors Brian Kennedy 14 & Bryan Lehrer 15

In its post-war glory days the BOC published Cat Tracks at the conclusion of each semester. The newsletter concisely summarized BOC activities, major purchases, and the
noteworthy accomplishments of its members. However, like a snowy winter or a hurricane stalled off North Carolina in September, all the good things die. In the words of a
previous editor, esteemed paddler and peddler Zand Martin: The last issue of Cat Tracks
that we have on recordis from May of 1970. Although it may have been published for a
short time after that, its death appears to have been imminent Zands morbid recount
notifies us of the passing of Cat Tracks, but also brings us to the next chapter in this short
three-chapter novella. Cat Tracks was reincarnated in 2007 as the The Legend, a R-A-D
and sprawling publication, featuring updates on club on-goings, stories, poems, and
alumni contributions. Sadly, the millennial iteration of Cat Tracks perished as well, lasting
three issues before a final high note in 2009. For the curious reader, all back issues of The
Legend and Cat Tracks are available for viewing at bates.edu/boc.
This attempt hopes to perform the service conducted by Cat Tracks and later, The Legend.
We intend to create an annual publication that lets active members, BOC alumni, and the
Bates community as a whole take part in a portion of the indefinable blob of tradition,
shared experience, and embellished near-fiction that makes the Outing Club such a fun
group to be a part of. In this mode, lets treat this offering as a printable meeting. Lets hope
that, like our weekly Wednesday gatherings, it is as informative as it is hilarious and discontinuous, as reproducible as it is unique, and as shared as it is personal. We were lucky
enough to have alumni and students of all stripes contribute stories and tell us where they
are and what they are doing. The combination resulted in a medley delicious enough to
satisfy even the most jaded BOCer.
Push through the business endthe notes from our fearless president and advisor, the
updates from our directorsand then enjoy the stories and adventures like the warm beer
you found buried in your backpack while looking for the noodles lost at the last camp.

A note from the president Allie Balter 14

Brian (top) and Bryan

Last fall, in a caravan of couches, chairs, and memorabilia, BOC members and alumni begrudgingly moved from our historic meeting room in Alumni Gym to a new meeting room in
Chase Hall. Thus began our year-long move to the BOCs new Chase Hall facilities: a spacious meeting room with high ceilings, a new AESOP office, a council hangout room, and a
customized, Equipment Room. In January we finally cleaned out the last pieces of gear from
the old E-Room in Hawthorne Hall and settled (hopefully) permanently in our new Chase Hall
home. From Chase Hall, we have continued to run old and new BOC trips including 4 sunrise
paddles; 5+ surfing trips; 15+ climbing trips including ice climbing and climbing competitions
in Merrill Gym; 20+ hiking trips in Maine, New Hampshire, and Nova Scotia; and, as usual,
more skiing trips to Sugarloaf, SundayRiver, Tucks, Mt. Abrams, and Saddleback than could
be counted.
Some of my most enduring memories at Bates have been related to the BOC: long debates over
avalanche beacon purchases, bushwacking in the Crocker Mountain Range, and early morning
Clambake set-ups are only a few. Through various BOC directorships, Ive had the opportunity
to grow as a leader, gain confidence in my decision-making abilities, and work closely with
my peers. And I am not the only member of the BOC that feels this way; in holding leadership
positions in this student-run club, members are guaranteed to gain the leadership and communication skills that are integral to success beyond just the outdoor world. And because of this,
were making an effort to revive the tradition of alumni donations to the BOC. With the help
of the recently established Friends of the BOC fund, we can improve our gear stock and facilities to ensure that future BOC members have even more opportunities for outdoor adventures
and personal growth than are currently available. Our next big project is a bouldering wall expansion in Merrill Gym which will not be possible without the help of our donors. If you wish
to contribute to the Friends of the BOC, please contact the Alumni Relations office for more
information. Heres to another successful year with the BOC!

Allie and fall president,

Josh Sturtevant 14,

Reflections on 52 Years with the BOC

Judy Marden 66, Bates Outing Club Co-Advisor

What did a nave little First-Year from suburban Boston

know about the Maine woods in 1962? Absolutely nothingbut when the Bates Outing Club announced a mountain climb to Tumbledown Mountain early in September,
my roommate and I decided to give it a try. On that fateful
Sunday, I fell in love with mountains and the BOC, constants
that have shaped my life ever since. From being elected to
Council at last in 1964, to Commencement in 1966 where I
was an Outing Club Major!

A group is forming, called Friends of the Bates Outing

Club, to keep in touch after graduation, to stay involved and
lead and go on trips during Reunions, to support the BOC,
and to help plan the 100th Anniversary in 2020. Thats only
6 years awayso its time to start thinking about how to
celebrate. Make sure Bates always has your contact information, and you will be hearing more about this special 100th
Anniversary Reunion. All classes will be welcome; the best is
yet to come!

A note from our wayward Vice President

Soon after I returned to Bates to work in 1969, the BOC

celebrated its 50th anniversary with a banquet and stories.
Professor Dick Sampson was still our Advisor, and though
a few activities had changed (for example, the E-Room now
rented Cross-Country skiis), the spirit remained. I stayed in
touch, went to Popham, helped judge Winter Carnival snow
sculptures, and in 1982, the Council asked me to join Professor Bob Thomas as co-Advisor. I was thrilledand truly,
have never received a more precious honor before or since.
The early years were amazinglots of trips to Baxter, Acadia, the Whites, skiing the Wildcat Valley trail in Pinkham
Notch, biking in Nova Scotiabecause the BOC always
needed someone over 21 to drive a van! The 80s people
were my best friends, and many still are. Rules changed, and
no chaperones or van drivers were needed; I became deeply involved with the Appalachian Mountain Clubs winter
mountaineering and instructional programs and was away
most weekendsbut Wednesday night was still, and always,
BOC meeting night. Being involved with BOC students
year after year was the very best part of nearly 40 years of
working at Bates. As my career transitioned to managing the
Bates-Morse Mountain Conservation Area, many BOCers
joined me at Shortridge and in the saltmarsh for research and
retreats.
In 1999, Ben Ayers, John MacKay, Erik Thomson, Brad
Morse, and a multitude of helpers built the BOC lean-to on
my land in Greene, ensuring a permanent connection and a
guaranteed invitation to Advance! Now, every year as I see
students who have become good friends gathered around the
campfire, along with the new fresh faces of the entering class,
I wonder which of them will learn to love the BOC as I do;
which of them will become directors and officers in turn, and
which of them will come back to Alumni Reunions in years
to come.
My wish is that many of you will come back, and that there
will continue to be activities that remind you of good times
with the BOC, to be shared with your classmates and other
BOC activists across all classes. Nothing is more fun than
sharing a trip with other Outing Club people who may have
graduated twenty years before or ten years after!

Sunrise on Kongde in Nanche Bazar

I write to you from Namche Bazar, Nepal at 3340m above
the sea. I have acquired a few minutes of internet and have
decided to respond to the call of Legend.
This is my fourth week in Nepal on a research grant from
the Anthropology Department of Bates College. I'm examining how Western influence and the trekking industry have
had a transformative impact on Nepali culture and identity.
As part of this research I'm hiking through the Khumbu
region of Nepal, staying with different families and talking to
people about their experiences surrounding tourism and the
recent modernization of the area.
As I type, five Yaks are walking behind me carrying supplies
through town. Their balls tingle in the cool mountain air.
I thought this past year was a great one for the outing club
and well continue to push forward as our 100 year anniversary quickly approaches. We moved into our new E-room
and meeting spaces and are beginning to call them home, had
a great turn out at Winter Carnival and are continuing to
expand the event, and like an outing club should we went on
amazing trips and exposed new students to outdoor experiences.
Heading off to the Tengboche Monastery today. I hope all
of the seniors have a great short term. I'm sorry I couldn't be
there to share it will all of you. It's been a great three years
together and you'll definitely be missed.

Director
Updates

On A saturday in Mid-April, you Can Find Bocers on the

slopes of Sunday River, The Waves of Higgins, the single
tracks of Bradbury, the Trails of Acadia, and Even our
own bouldering Wall. As our interests in the outdoors
are increasingly varied, so are our director Positions in
the Club. Below are a Few Words written by a handful of
These Different Directors. Reader Caveat- Content May
Vary in quality and Clarity

Treasurer - Sasha Lennon 16

The depth and breadth in trips and gear sponsored by the

outing club this past year was quite impressive. The club
was able to send students to Acadia (twice), Nova Scotia, the
Red River Gorge in Kentucky, Baxter State Park, Franconia Notch, Flagstaff Lake and many more beautiful places.
We financed major improvements to our new equipment
room, several new zero degree sleeping bags, and ski gear to
meet the never-ending demand for snow sliding equipment.
The club hosted speaker Zoe Rmano, presented the annual
winter carnival, hosted two clambakes at Popham Beach,
and sent multiple trips each weekend to the mountains for
skiing/snowboarding and rock gym in Portland. Thanks to
a generous gift we were able to replace our climbing mats to
ensure the safety of the many students who climb at the wall
in Merrill Gym. Our expenditures provided positive outdoor
experiences for the Bates Community and strengthened the
long tradition of the BOC both on an off campus.We were
able to budget our money so well that we had quite a bit left
for short term trips all over New England!

Cabins and Trails - Dana Cohen-Kaplan 16

During the Fall semester, 2013, I undertook the responsibilities of Cabins and Trails along with the dedicated,
hard-working, passionate Joseph Marques, who happened
to be abroad. One of the responsibilities of the position was
to look after the Bates Section of the Appalachian Trail,
located at Bemis mountain. One day I solo-sojourned up to
Bemis. After having a hard time of tracking down directions,
accurate instruction on reaching the stretch were found in
the trail-work journal. The trail includes some wonderful
stretches of ridgeline looking down onto the rolling hills of
the greater Rumford-Mexico area. Litter was collected, brush
was cleared, and a few blowdowns were hacked up. General
organization and cleaning of the camp at Bemis Mountain
shelter was completed and mental notes of some boggy areas
prime for future bog-bridge construction were made. A full
report was given to the BOC upon return. All told, it was a
productive, informative trip on a crisp autumn day, covering
about 7 miles of rugged Bates pride.
Another brief stint included some trail clearing with Dan Paseltiner, Allie Balter, and Judy Marden around the Lean-To
in Greene, ME. Conditions were wet, but we dried off with a
roaring fire and enjoyed a delicious barbecue at the lean-to.

Watersports - Tanner Tunicate Jam Cunningham 14

Fun Facts: On earth, there is only one substance that may be

found, naturally occurring, in all three phases of matter: the
divine yet humble dihydrogen oxide. It is nearly incompressible, there are 1.26 sextillion liters of it on earth, it comprises
over 60% of human body weight, and it is the leading suspect
in the 3,880 fatal drownings that occurred in the U.S. last
year.
This year in water: This fall we launched every BOC canoe
into the Androscoggin for an evening paddle with a group
from the Androscoggin Land Trust. The Kennebec River was
kayaked and so were the waves at clambake. The boatbarn
remained miraculously free from the fetid stench of lobster
cookers. New England received more high volume crystalline
water deposits (HVCWD) than in any winter I can remember. California is suffering one of the most severe droughts
on record and the soils of mars were found to contain 2%
water by weight. I took a hydrogeology class. Two new
whitewater kayaks are being purchased. Bumbling hipsters
broke countless water bearing mason jars. Several BOCers
were SCUBA certified. Attempts to conduct an eskimo roll
clinic in Merrill were stymied by suppressive swim sticklers
(SSS). Cheeky retaliations involving pool gelatinization are in
the works.
Opinion: I don't drink water. Fish fuck in it. -W.C. Fields

Biking - George Merrill 16 & Alex Moskovitz 16

Bicycling isn't exactly the biggest thing at Bates and most of

the people who are into it tend to do it on their own. Both
Alex Moskovitz and myself have been working to change
this through the BOC. People often ask us about mountain
biking or where a good place to go for a road ride is, so first
and foremost we are trying to be a resource for everyone
interested. We led mountain bike trips for all abilities last fall
at Bradbury State Park every Friday afternoon and we plan
on continuing to do that next year. We are also in the process
of trying to get more bike-specific tools for the ERoom that
anyone with a bike can use. This spring we held a tune-up
clinic to help people get their bikes ready for summer and we
will probably try to do some more specific clinics this fall. We
are also looking into getting more trails in the Lewiston-Auburn area by working with the Bicycle Coalition of Maine.

6
Safety - Patt Jeffries 14

The Outing Club Safety directors have a reputation for being

very safe, some even say dangerously safe. This year, we
made sure Puddle Jump was a complete success! Everyone
was totally safe, not a single injury was suffered and everyone
had tons of fun in the freezing cold water. This short term
we also offered a WFA certification course to refresh the
club's safety skills. Good year all around!

Hickory- John Barbadoro 14

Love the fact that Bates supplies beginner and intermediate

skiers from all parts of our community? Do you love the fact
that Bates is the only Maine NESCAC to offer alpine rentals? We wont wait for an answer but, your loyal hickories
guide purchases and maintain our fleet of alpine, telemark,
and nordic skis, and even a few snowboards for the knuckle
draggers out there.
The word hickory, stolen from the language of the Powhaten, is a tree of the genus Carya. With likely the only nonstraight-forward directorship name (with the exception of
Environment) there has been much confusion in the past
about the actual role and importance of the word hickory.
The term is likely a throwback to one of the original materials used to make the bases for skis, due to hickory woods well
known durability and shock resistance.
The bases of skis are a large focus for Hickories, as keeping
proper care of performance ski equipment is vital to longevity and performance of equipment. This year we supplied
tuning benches and equipment for those with proper knowledge, and we offered clinics to those looking to learn the age
old craft of ski maintenance!
The other main operation the Hickories are charged with of
is to help coordinate the vast number of ski trips that loyal
BOCers enjoy. This year, the noble directoship launched
trips to Sunday Rivers Dumont cup, Sugarloafs Reggae Fest,
and the elusive backcountry of Streaked Mountain and Tuckermans Ravine. Skiing is a big part of Bates, and the Hickories help make it stay that way. Additionally, John Barbadoro
is a telemark skier.

Surfing- Dan Bak 15

Maholo ladies! I was lucky enough to be the BOC surfing

director this year. After a quiet Fall, the Polar Vortex turned
the North Atlantic into a chilly, but wave filled water sliding
paradise. Many BOC affiliated surf trips were launched in
response, and bodies hit the water from New Hampshire to
the forgotten nooks of Downeast Maine. I had one nice day
in January with the boys, but otherwise I was relegated by my
busy social schedule to the comfortable position of absentee
gear administrator, attending no meetings and doing little
else.

Parliamentarian - Matt Furlow 14

Humble young Matt Furlow Furlow chaired the Budget Committee for most of
his Bates Career. However, winter semester saw Furlow, like many government
bureaucrats, make the transition from regulator to regulatee. I think the general
consensus within the club was that its nice to hang out with Furlow instead of
lying prostrate before him during budget allocation.
Description: This directorship is responsible for maintaining
law and order in the Bates Outing Club with duties including interpreting the B.O.C. Constitution and maintaining the E-Room
jail.
It is often said that the outdoors and politics, with the exception
of outdoor rallies, do not mix. However, former President of the
United States Theodore Roosevelt, also known as T.R. or Teddy,
gained fame not just for tenure as Governor of New York and his
trust-busting of monopolies, but also for his love of the outdoors
and generally intense activities.
No. 1: If T.R. participated in the Winter Carnival, there would be
no doubt that Puddle Jump would be his favorite event due to the
fact that he frequently skinny-dipped in the Potomac River during
the winter months.
No. 2: Theodore Roosevelt never missed an opportunity to be in
life-threatening situations. Before his presidency, T.R. organized
and led the Rough Riders, a cavalry regiment famous for charging
up San Juan Heights during the Spanish American War. Also,
he survived as assassination attempt in Milwaukee, Wisconsin
while on the campaign trail, and nonetheless continued with his
90-minute speech.
No. 3: T.R. was interested in zoology, creating his own taxidermies and wrote a paper title titled, The Natural History of
Insects. He did this at age nine. T.R. was also an environmentalist.
As president, Roosevelt pushed for a system of National Parks,
creating five, and granted the President power to use public land
for National Parks. In the West Wing fictional President Bartlet
uses that authority to prevent wilderness from being strip-mined.
This is a small sampling of Theodore Roosevelts Outing
Club-worthy achievements, not to mention all of his other accomplishments. In sum, if President Roosevelt led an AESOP trip, he
would certainly lead the difficult, Level 5, Presidential Traverse.

7
We were lucky enough to have several Alumni contributions this year (see alumni contributions), but none as compelling as this beautiful history and tragic recount of
the Baxter State Park Ranger, Ralph Heath, by Dough Smith 63. Doug Smith actively participated in Outing Club activities from 1959 to 1963 and has made Five trips to
Katahdin, a place, he says, remains special in his heart. Smith is best known for the Paul Bunyan snow sculpture built by members of the Outing Club for the 1962 Winter
Carnival, the picture of which is in the Coram Library. See article Raising Paul Bunyan in the 2009 Issue of the BOC Legend.

A Katahdin Memory
Douglas G. Smith 63

You love it and you fear it

It is big and harsh and high
A mass of ancient granite
Towering into the sky
From the Indians who revered it
To the climber of today
A symbol of a spirit
That can never pass away
-Earl Shaffer

n 1948 Earl Shaffer was the first to hike the entire length
of the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine in one
season. He did it again in 1998 at age 79. The night before his
final climb in 1998 Earl penned the above poem and gave it
to Buzz Caverly, the Baxter State Park Director

Why October 15?

No matter what date those planning on reaching Mt. Katahdin, the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail,
all schedules center on one date, October 15, the final date
climbers without a special permit may make their rendezvous
on Baxter Peak. Few, if any know how this date came to be
and that it was a result of the tragic loss of a heroic 40year old ranger and the woman he tried to save in a raging
snowstorm on October 29, 1963. Ranger Ralph Heath was
appointed to Chimney Pond Campground by the legendary
supervisory ranger Helon Taylor in 1960. Trips by the Bates
College Outing Club to achieve the Mt Katahdin summit
included camping at Chimney Pond All enjoyed contact with
Ranger Heath who was quick with a story or witty remark
and who was intent on making sure all enjoyed a safe experience at Chimney Pond.

drink the water, the client pulled two glass gallon jugs of water from his pack and emptied the contents onto the ground
thus disappointing young Heath who had expected a swig of
whiskey and rued the fact he had lugged such an unnecessary
load.
Once I asked Heath about fish in Chimney Pond and he
launched into another New Yawka story. It seems one
morning Ranger Ralph asked a person fishing in Chimney
Pond if he was using worms or flies. Assured that flies, not
worms that would contaminate the drinking water, were
at the end of the pole, Heath continued in his duties. About
noon, the frustrated fisherman came to the ranger cabin and
demanded to know, Are there any fish in that pond? Heath,
replied, Nary a one as it is too cold. Why you didnt tell me
this morning? the put-out man demanded. Heath: Well,
you didnt ask. I had my own Ranger Ralph story. Chimney
Pond was a classic campground with trails laid out with rocks
and many lean-tos. Most of these were built in 1958 and 1959
when Army helicopters from Fort Devens, Massachusetts
flew in 34 trips, eleven tons of building material. I worked
with Ralph Heath in the summer of 1960 worked to finish
the interior of the ranger cabin. The Chimney Pond campground had an open dump. One afternoon, I brought our
debris to the dump. The dump was located in an open area
and had a good view of both Chimney Pond and the steeply
rising heights of this most perfect glacial cirque. Sitting on a
stump, I heard a noise. I turned and looked around to see a
large brown bear, eating out of a number 10 can. I panicked,
and made a dash into the main campground and came onto
Ranger Ralph. Ranger ! I said, there is a big bear down in
the dump Ranger Heath, glanced at his watch and said, Yup,
he is right on time. Ranger Ralph Heath distinguished himself in his devotion to duty but won over many friends with
his kindly and authentic Maine humor.

Ralph Heath

Heath first experienced Katahdin in high school when he

earned money hauling packs for campers to campgrounds
such as Chimney Pond. People from New York peopled
his stories and he would often tell the story of some New
Yawka,and their comical failings. I asked him once about his
early days and he said that often, his wealthy clients would
let him have a nip of whiskey upon delivering the pack to
the campground. In one case, one heavy pack gurgled on
the way up the trail from Roaring Brook, some three miles
from Chimney Pond. To his disappointment when reaching
Chimney Pond, when his client learned that campers could

Chimney Pond Ranger Cabin, 1960

8
The Defining Tragedy of 1963

In late October 1963, two Massachusetts women, Margaret

Ivusic and Helen Mower proceeded up the Cathedral Trail,
made the summit, ate lunch and proceeded towards Pamola
across the Knife Edge, intending to return to Chimney Pond
via the Dudley Trail. Ivusic made the regretful decision to
proceed off of the Knife Edge down what was not a short
cut but a little used trail (Armadillo) which required technical climbing gear. Both women could communicate in the
still air but they could not see each other. Mower decided
against taking the short-cut route and continued further
on, following the marked Dudley Trail. Ivusic, however,
soon found she was on a ledge unable to go back up to the
Knife Edge trail. Back in the Chimney Pond Campground
Mower met up with Ralph Heath who was able to speak with
the stranded Margaret Ivusic by shouting across Chimney
Pond, urging her to stay put and that he would go up the
next morning and assist her. However, late that night a storm
moved in, the edge of hurricane Ginny and Heath set out
with supplies and climbing ropes. Unable to make contact,
he returned five hours later to Chimney Pond. At about 6:00
AM, Heath set out again. That was the last anyone heard of
Heath and Ivusic. An intensive search effort ensued, but the
storm left over two feet of snow and finally after burning
several lean-tos for fuel and with many agencies participating, the search was called off on November 4.

Aftermath

Review of the tragedy set in motion a plan to create a detailed

search and rescue procedure and some changes in Park
administration. The season for camping on and climbing any
mountain in the Park above tree line was shortened. No one
without a permit plus proof as to competency is now allowed
to engage in any camping or climbing activities between
October 16 and May 14. Thus, the well-known target date
for reaching the terminus of the Appalachian Trail was set
for all time.
In the spring of 1964 when rangers were able to locate and
evacuate the bodies, they discovered that Heath had been
able to locate and clothe Margaret Ivusic. Heath, himself was
found some 400 feet above Ivusic, his head resting on his
arm; exhausted from his heroic efforts, he had succumbed to
the terrible blizzard. To this day, Baxter State Park maintains
a detailed rescue plan and to hikers, the caution to make Katahdin by October 15 is a living legacy of Ralph Heath, who
remains an example of a dedicated ranger and genuine hero.
He was a joy to know and remains wonderfully remembered.
FOOTNOTE: Source Material; Legacy of a Lifetime-The Story of Baxter State Park,
Dr. John W. Hakola, 1981 Poem by Earl Shaffer: Courtesy of Irvin Buzz Caverly
Jr., Former Director Baxter State Park

Pair of hikers on Katahdin summit, circa 1960

The Armadillo

Collin McCullough 14

ike the incisor on the bottom of a jaw, the granite

pyramid protrudes from Katahdins ridgeline. No guidebook
exists that provides pitch-by-pitch analysis, protection tips,
glossy photos. Only a couple of crude route descriptions
and fuzzy trail drawings that come with one piece of advice:
bring a number four cam. Show up without the cam and the
rangers wont let you climb. Thats because the Armadillo
includes the delicacy of an off width crack on its third pitch.
Its also because the Armadillo ascends up the backside of
Mount Katahdin in the northernmost, desolate reaches of
Maine, preceded by a 3-4 hour grueling approach by way of
bushwhack. The stakes are always high when you clip your
harness in, but on the Armadillos approach, every step that
takes you away from Chimney Pond pulls the safety blanket
out another inch. By the time the first piece of gear is placed,
the climber is half a day away from medical assistance.

9
On the Bates Outing Clubs annual Assault on Katahdin I was
packed ass-to-face with every New Englander and their mother
taking advantage of the perfect October weather. As we climbed up
the well marked trail, my thoughts kept flicking back to my four
friends making the climb up the Dillo that day. When I reached
the summit and scooted out to peer over the edge, I saw what they
were in for. Sheer globules of granite faces with well defined crack
systems worked their way up to my perch. I didnt gaze over the
edge for long. Better to be roped in when the bottom drops out. We
all hoped that the climbers would meet us on the summit. They
didnt. While we enjoyed sammys and hangovers on the peak of
Big K, the two climbing teamsJosh Sturtevant and Charlie Grant,
Sarah Xiao and Jordan Cargillwere only beginning a full on
struggle up one of the North Easts crown jewel climbs
Sarah Xiao: I was really nervous. It was the first climb that
I had done where we were all on the same experience levels.
I was used to climbing with people who were more experienced than me.
Jordan Cargill: I was excited. It was an epic climb to a scale
that I had never done before. True alpine trad. There was a
nervousness there, especially because I was leading for the
first time.

got to the rangers station it was seven. We knew they had a

really strict cut off time. If we had arrived at 8 or later they
wouldnt have let us go. We met the ranger, who was trying
to intimidate the shit out of us, telling us how tough the
climb was, how difficult it was to get medical assistance. But,
he said he would keep an eye on us, checked our gear, and
sent us on our way.
C: I think his name was Mark, I had met him before when
I climbed Katahdin. This time when I talked to him he said
that he had never climbed the Armadillo before. The one
piece of advice that he had for us was to be careful because
not a lot of people had fallen on the rock, letting us know
that gear placement was going to be sketchy, not broken in. It
was not what I wanted to hear.
In every online route description the approach is scorned as a cruel
form of self-torture. The winding bushwhack over boulders and
through bramble fields can discourage even the hardiest climber; its
pitch bordering on fourth-class terrain is enough to intimidate
the novice one. The point is, when climbers leave the summit, they
will remember the world class climbing the Armadillo had to offer
and they will also remember the misery involved in accessing it.

Charlie Grant: The weather was good. I remember being

really nervous the day before the climb, because I hadnt led
trad in a while. The route descriptions we had were pretty
vague. We didnt really know what we were getting into.
Josh Sturtevant: What kept popping into my head was that
I was the most inexperienced climber in the whole group. I
had done one, maybe two other decent multi-pitch climbs. I
knew what I was getting myself into, but at the same time I
didnt really know how to build an anchor and hadnt practiced it. I knew Charlie was familiar, I was comfortable him
with leading. But I kept thinking that if something went
wrong, I couldnt get us out of it.
The four of them set out that morning around 5 AM. Many
climbers camp at the rangers cabin the night before to get an early
start on the notorious approach, but they didnt. With full packs
and sweaty palms, the crew made the trek from the parking lot to
Chimney Pond as the sun rose.
S: We had to meet the ranger who checked out gear. He
needed to make sure we had a number four cam. He was a
really rough guy. He gave Josh a hard time. He kept telling us
that the climb was tough and how to reach him if we were in
trouble.
JS: In that first stretch there was an amazing sunrise, you
could see the alpine glow on the cirque, right along the
knifes edge. Just this beautiful glowing bowl. By the time we

C: That was the worst approach that I have ever done

in my whole life. There were times when you had to go
through these brambles. If you werent wearing pants you
got scratched up and we were on super exposed stuff that if
you fell it would not be pleasant at all. It was so stupid, we
should have roped up.There were times when we were going
around corners on this scree that was sliding away from your
feet.
S: The Mountain Project said plan for two hours. It took us
four. The approach was sketchy. I remember Charlie saying, Im never going to fucking come back here again. The
ground underneath us was sliding away at points. Thats
where Jordan was so amazing, he was doing his best to
keep our psych high. He kept going out in front, powering

10
through the brambles and he would stop and wait for me
when I was slowing down because my legs were bleeding.
JC: Definitely stoked I brought pants. Their legs got fucking
shredded, especially Sarahs. It was a grueling climb through
scrub brush. We felt like we had been the first people there
in months. There were some stretches that were dangerous,
fourth class moves, places where you would not stop falling.
In a way it was more dangerous than the actual climb.

THE CLIMB:

JC: To finally be on this flake and realize the true scale of

this thing. The exposure was crazy. It felt like a thousand feet
down to Chimney Pond from the ledge.
S: The first pitch was up alongside the flake, then you traverse left into a corner. There was a clean face with a thin
crack that you could see, but there were also a lot of big rocks
hanging out. Once I got to the corner the gear ran out. My
last piece was good, it would probably hold, but I remember
making a lot of committing moves over boulders. I had a
backpack on. There was a chimney that you had to wriggle
up. The chimney was getting smaller and smaller. The backpack was impeding me.
JC: It starts out with a 5.5 chimney that Sarah led. You were
kind of inserted up into this massive flake that you could see
from the bottom. The backpacks made climbing harder. It
was in some ways the most awkward lead of the climb. Ive
got to give Sarah credit, she did a great job.
JS: At this point, Im shitting myself, because Sarah is struggling up this thing. I kept thinking if this is the 5.5, what the
hell are the crux pitches going to be like?
C: Sarah led the first pitch, the first one up. While she was
leading she took off her backpack because she couldnt
squeeze into some of the places with the backpack on. So the
entire route she was hauling her backpack up this chimney.
Then Josh and I were up. It was one of the hardest 5.5s I
have ever climbed.
JS: I freaked as soon as I got into the chimney. My feet were
slipping, my arms were so pumped, I couldnt see the next

move. I was weighting the rope a lot and Im yelling up to

Charlie saying, I dont know if I can do this, this was a bad
idea. There was this one point where I had unclipped the
rope but it had gotten caught on something, so I had to go
back and down climb to flick it off the corner of this rock. If
I had fell, I would have pendulum swung twenty feet to the
next piece and then twenty feet more. This was the first five
minutes of the climb.

If I had fell, I would have pendulum

swung twenty feet to the next piece
and then twenty feet more. This was
the first five minutes of the climb.
JC: At the end of the first pitch we came out onto this
scrunched ledge. That was the start of the crux pitches, two
5.7s. You come out onto a cramped, steeply angled belay
ledge. And then you traverse onto an arte onto the corner
and you go up 20 feet on that with decent protection. Then
you get out onto the face, thats when you get the crazy exposure. At that point you dont have an option to mess up, so
you dont and you start having fun with it.
S: I could see him going around the corner. I remember
stepping around the edge. It was a huge drop, maybe 500 feet.
At that point the sun had gone to the other side of the climb,
so we lost the light. It started getting cold. Even with Jordans
jacket on I was freezing. I had to blow on my hands just so I
could climb.
I had no expectations going into Katahdin. I had spent the previous spring in Utahs Canyonlands and the summer in New Yorks
Adirondack High Peaks. Standing on top of The Greatest Mountain that day, I had to laugh. In all my tromping in the ADK and
the Canyonlands those previous months, I had never been on a rock
like this. A pile of chock stones over five thousand feet high. Around
noon that day I stuck my nose over the back edge. But as far as I
dared to lean out and look down, I could not see my friends. I did
not know that it would be another ten hours before I heard from
them.

11
C: There is this scary move where you transition off the flake,
it was a frightening move with very few pieces of protection.
There is one pin you can clip, but it looked unreliable. Turning onto the face was the scary part. You couldnt fall.
JS: I was already sore, tired, and concerned about the rest of
the climb. I was sitting there on this tiny ledge, feeding out
the rope, Charlies gone, cant hear him, cant see him, the
winds howling.Then I rediscovered my excitement for being
on this mountain, I rediscovered my technique and I settled
in. The rest of the climbing was pretty fun.
JC: Then starts the 3rd pitch, this is it, the best rated climb
on the armadillo. Perfect fist and foot jams up this enormous
face, full blunt exposure. You just walk up this thing like a
zipper with a few moves. Then it splits open to what people
call an off width, too big to jam, too small to put your body
in. This is where the number four comes in. Even though its
secure its actually pretty sketchy. I was leaning on this piece,
moving it up as I went up the awkward climb.
JS: The third pitch, the namesake of the climb, is this fists
width crack. I had learned how to climb crack earlier that
year. To be a good crack climber you have to be masochistic,
slam your hand in there and let the rock battle it out with
your hand. The route had the most beautiful fist jams, finger
cracks, fist cracks. That was the most fun part of the climb
for me. I was making my hand uniform with the rock.
S: The third pitch was the best pitch that we did because
it had this amazing crack. There really isnt that much
crack-climbing in New England so it was really surprising to
find that. I had gotten a taste of it in Yosemite last summer
and this was on par with that.

C: I have led trad, some jamming, it must have been the

exposure or the lack of solid gear placement, but it was one
of the scariest pitches I had lead in my whole life. As you continue up you realize you can use a 3 cam, but you have to get
it deep in there. I was freaking out, sweating a lot. I would
place a piece, walk up a fist or three and then move the cam
up. Eventually you got to a place where the crack narrowed
and I could lay back, from then on the climb became fun.
JS: Charlie got insanely hung up on this part of the climb. He
ended up killing it, but this was the most exposed part of the
climb and Charlie didnt know how to crack climb.
The descent lasted well into the afternoon as descents often do. My
head lolled, either from dehydration or too many nips of whiskey
the night before. When we reached the van I started calling. An unanswered phone at 5 PM was not a cause of worry. Four and a half
later when we pulled into Lewiston I said a prayer. At that point,
what else can you do?
JS: Then we had some little class four stuff to scamper on up
to the summit. I will always remember the last few pitches of
class four, It was an intense version of the knifes edge. One
thousand foot drop offs on either side. As soon as we came
up and over that lip, we had been on the northern side of the
mountain, in the shadows and the wind, but finally we came
up to find the sun. The feeling of the late afternoon sun on
your faces, everybody could not stop smiling.
JC: We didnt end up summiting until 5:30, 5 hours on the
climb itself.
JC: I like climbing for where it gets me. The people I was
with made it special. The exhilarating feeling of being exposed and isolated on that mountain. It really felt like living.
Climbing takes me places far away, but to find something
in your backyard that can rival anywhere else in the world.
Thats rare.
JS: More than anything, I will remember it for how scared
shitless I was, and not being able to do anything about it. In
several moments, no matter how bad I wanted to get out of
it, there was no escape button, there was just up. If I had the
ultimate emotional breakdown, I still would have had to go
up. And I think you rarely find yourself in that position in
life, where you cant turn around, and theres only one way.
Its so, just, intimidating, terrifying, fear, true fear. And fear is
a good motivator.

The crew atop Katahdin. Pictured lefl to right: Sarah, Josh,

Charlie, and Jordan.

12

BOC CLIMBS

RED RIVER GORGE

Dani Klein 17 and Audrey Wheatcroft 17

Nick Michaud 15

Nine Batesies went down to the Red River Gorge in Kentucky for a
week of climbing over April break, here are some of their favorite
memories. Photos taken by Callum Douglas.Douglas.

Becca Leloudis 16

There was a 5.10c climb we tried on the first day that Nick
and I got a third of the way up before we both got stuck at
the same point, known as the butt crack. It was really frustrating. The next day we came back and decided to bag a 5.10
climb and we both did it on the first try. It was probably the
best feeling at the end of a climb Ive felt all the whole week.

On the fifth morn I rose up much before the rest of the

troop, stomach in much discontent. Slipping out of my
sleeping cocoon I saddled up for the quarter mile walk to the
bathroom. After successfully ambling through the forested
part of the walk, I encountered the paved road knowing I was
almost half way there. Suddenly, the discontent grew into a
stifling pain. In fear of loosing last nights dinner, I clenched
my cheeks and started tiptoeing to the bathroom. Eight steps
in; the impact from the walk was moving the process along
all too quickly. I stopped. Loosening my trousers I was able
to force all of my energy on the powerful clench. After standing motionless for five minutes, I built up enough courage
to continue the trek. This time each step was a triumph.
One, two, three, four, every effort bought me closer to the
porcelain chamber I sought after. At ten steps I froze, looked
around, restroom headquarters in sight-I knew it was only
100 steps left. I am a Michaud, I knew I could make it. After
being still for another five minutes I continued onward again.
I only made it one step. No longer could my will overcome
the call of nature, I lunged to the side of the road, dropped
my shorts and let loose.

S
Callum Douglas 16

The Return of the Manimal. It was a 5.10d consisting of a

series of successive mini roof problems. The beta was pretty
cryptic, sections were fairly juggy while other sections were
very delicate and crimpy. There was a powerful move out of
one of the roofs utilizing and under cling jug and a high heel
hook. The crux was pumpy and strenuous and the finish was
a little run out. All in all it was a very enjoyable flash.

#SurfTerm
John Cappetta 16

urfTerm began as a vague idea to spend short-term

surfing good waves in warm water, with nobody around,
drinking TecateBaja Mexico seemed like a logical destination. So Dan Bak and I spent the second half of winter
dreaming about sand-bottom right-hand point breaks, beer
cheaper than water, and cacti beach bonfires. We arrived in
San Diego with no plans and found that while enchanting,
Baja is a dangerous place. A combination of an Xterra with
250,000 miles and the insight of an old Baja guru named
Claude caused our dreams of Baja gold to evaporate quicker
than drinkable water in a broke-down gringos radiator.
So north it was for a California surf trip. We spent a day
calling around, secured roofs for the first two nights, and
hit the freeway. It just so happened that we left San Diego at
the front end of an incoming low-pressure system from the
northwest, which meant we were in for a week of decent
swell. We aimed to catch the swells peak in Santa Cruz and

13
called a high school surfing buddy of mine, Jean Louis, to
see if he would show us around. JL is the most surf-stoked
person I have ever met. JL has no car at school, hadnt surfed
in a month, and knew that the swell was on its way, so he
was amped to play tour guide if it meant he could get in the
water.
Santa Cruz is one of surfings seven holy sites and it has the
most consistently surf-able waves on the central coast, so it
tends to draw a crowd to its better-publicized spots. Our first
session was at the well-renowned Steamers Lane. We caught
a couple sets into the cove but, the waves were a mushy head
high and the crowd belonged in Vatican City on Judgment
Day. Back on shore we were ready for lunch but decided to
check a fickle spot called Natural Bridges, expecting nothing.
Instead, we were greeted in the parking lot with visions of
gnarly, dredging barrels. Despite our cold induced bitchiness,
there was no way JL wasnt going to surf, so we pulled on wet
wetsuits and got hyped for the half-mile paddle. I claimed
that I would surf for forty-five minutes, no morewe were
back at the car two hours later. It was good: steep, deep, head
high drops followed by a section where the wind made every
turn look like it was throwing one thousand bucket-units
of spray, then a high line for the inside racetrack, taken at
NASCAR speed, wind in your hair, feeling like the board is
about to lift out of the water, maybe pull into the barrel if
youre a masochist, and get spit up onto the rocks laughing
hysterically
The swell started to drop, so we bopped around San Fransisco for a day, seeing touristy things, eating sandwiches,
driving nice roads in Marin and staring at the Golden Gate
Bridge. The next day brought a little more pulse to the Pacific, and we met up with JL at Ocean Beach to get pummeled
by six-foot thumpers groomed by a rare offshore breeze.
Then we continued north the One twisting through groves
of cypress and eucalyptus, past working coastal towns hiding
behind signs that read Save Reyes Oyster Farming and into
Sonoma County. As we neared the boundary of the Sonoma

Between river-cooled Coors and this burger, its safe to say

that Cappetta and company had more than just tasty waves.

Coast State Beach we came across a turnout in front of a

closed gate with an encouraging sign Pack it in, Pack it out.
The gate barred vehicle access to a beach that, due to budget
cuts, was no longer maintained by the Parks Servicethe
benefits of a bankrupt state. Cautiously we ventured in to
scope the scene. The trail to the beach wound through a little
jungle that grew out of the flood plain, full of ivys clinging to
twisted trunks that protrude from the packed mud, and ferns,
green as a late spring Maine, before it emerged on to a large
beach cut by the delta of the Russian River and flanked by
one hundred foot cliffs with half submerged boulders crowding their anklesRussian Gulch.
At our guerilla campsite we cooked burritos in front of the
retreating sun and drank river cooled Coors Banquet. A couple showed up around dusk armed with blankets for warmth
and an expectation of intimacythey left shortly after. Then
the clock struck late purple and we traded dinner supplies
for sleeping bags to watch the night turn from deep blue to
almost black to a speckled grey with a dusting of the faintest
stars. Satellites trekking across the cosmos helped fend off the
impending acceptance of human insignificance.
The road to Humboldt County brought more spectacular
coastal curves and tight mountain driving through towering Redwood groves. The coastal bed and breakfasts were

14

Ive never felt so strong an urge to spend a month backpacking,

one could dedicate a lifetime to understanding the ways and
waves of the area, and a pleasant lifetime at that.

replaced by fossilized tourist traps: a house inside the trunk of

a large redwood aptly called, the tree house, the Drive-Thru
Tree, and a souvenier shop dedicated to a certain large hairy
hominid entitled the Mystery of Bigfoot. We exited the 101
in Garberville where we bought gasoline while ten or so men
behind the counter divvied up lumps of hunted meat in ziplock bags. Soon, we neared the emptiness of the King Range
and headed for the black sand beaches of the Lost Coastthe
longest undeveloped stretch of coastline in California. At
the last road access for 50 miles we met a group of surfers
with large backpacks..With the knowledge that the swell had
subsided I half-jokingly asked the first of them if it was fun
out, yeah, it was firing he replied. I noticed a crash pad on
his pack, so I inquired of the second how long theyd been
out there for, since Mondayno, Sunday [5 days] was it
crowded, first day there were a few folks, but they all left to
work so weve been alone since Monday.
Startled, Dan and I walked three miles up the beach and
found three point breaks that, given the right swell and
wind conditions, must be world class. Thats one epic wave
per mile on a fifty mile stretch of coast with no road access,
in front of 4000 foot, conifer clad mountains that spill on
to a black sand beach next to a turquoise blue PacificIve
never felt so strong an urge to spend a month backpacking,
one could dedicate a lifetime to understanding the ways and
waves of the area, and a pleasant lifetime at that.
After a few days of camping next to chainsaw wielding
mountain bikers and hiking amid bear pies, redwoods, and
wild flowers we left for Sonoma State University to meet
my cousin, Jon Cappetta (same name, same age). I watched
the sunrise while informing a stranger that shed be rife with
hookworm for walking barefoot. Eight A.M. followed quickly and we felt an incredible urge to leave very rapidly.
Feeling not exactly refreshed, we began our journey south
towards San Diego. We still have a few days of camping
before arriving back home, and well hopefully be into some
more surf when we get there; but there is a sense that we
have arrived at the final stretch. Work and structure beckon
once more.
Weve had some good surf on this trip-for-surfing, but more
than that weve lived without agenda driving by compass,
needle pointing at wild. We found some new surf spots and
saw too many things that had us remarking next time We
found in this adventure, the essence of short term, taking this
time that Bates gives us between school and summer to live
out the daydreams we have when January seems to live three
and a half lives.

Caretaker Tv
Jordan Cargill 16

As I set up to take the picture below a large gust of wind sent

my camera case and gloves hurtling over the precipice of
King Ravine. My first thought, as I pursued them bottomless
with unlaced boots was, Wow. Im a dumbass. My second
was, Who gives a shit? I was alone. There was not a soul
to judge me for five miles in any direction.
I was three days into my first stint as spring caretaker for the
Randolph Mountain Club (RMC) in the Northern Presidential Range of New Hampshire. My home: Gray Knob,
a cozy two room cabin with a loft and a woodstove. My
duties: maintain the four RMC shelters, host and collect fees
from the occasional guest, knock down the poop cone in the
privies if it isnt frozen, and entertain myself, for the spring is
a notoriously quiet time in the Northern Presidentials.
I have often been asked, What do you do with so much
solitude? Well, besides taking tasteful self-timer nudes my
personal favorite is caretaker TV. There is one channel, the
Quay. It comes on every evening, its exact time varying with
the seasons. The setting is always the same, a deep green valley surrounded by mountains of all shapes and sizes. There
are never any re-runs.
One particular episode comes to mind. I sat on the lichen
covered granite seats of the theater. The plot, thus far, was
rather dull. Heavy clouds prevented the main character from
making his usual flashy entrance. I was about to call the episode a wash, but then I noticed a thin gap between the clouds
and the horizon. Knowing the Quays tricks I decided to wait
out the episode to its conclusion. No sooner had I made this
decision that I noticed a series of cloud bursts scattered across
the screen. My brow furrowed. This was a twist in the plot
I had not yet seen. At last the main character made a timid
appearance at the base of the clouds. Then, with confidence,

15

16
unveiled himself in brilliant pink. As I surveyed the setting
transformed by the suns appearance I noticed a slight pink
hue at the base of the rain columns. At first I thought it a
passing trick of the light, but the pink hue only increased
in brilliance and marched steadily up the columns. At the
crescendo the air was so rich with pink it seemed tangible.
I may have even tried to grab hold of it. As the sun sank I
sat on my granite stool heedless of the puddled drool on my
jacket and uncertain whether or not Id soiled my one pair of
underwear.
When I came to Gray Knob I brought many romantic hopes
for my time as a caretaker. This sunset exceeded any of them.

The BOCs BI-Annual

Bivalve Bake
Brian Kennedy 17
The Bates Outing Club Clambake occurs in the early fall, and
again during the last weeks of Short Term. The clambake
isnt only about the clams, with around 400 lobsters ordered
each year, and boxes of beef and veggie patties from Commons most Batesies are able to stuff themselves with a variety
terrestrial and aquatic.
The loyal BOCers who pile into the volunteer van and truck
at 7:30 in the morning generally have to deal with moonings
from the more senior members, and obnoxious pop music
as the caravan picks up the supplies and heads to the coast.
Regardless, they push on for the promise of a beautiful day of
frolicking at the beach. After slaving over the grill and lobster pits, and standing in the sun all day, the volunteers are
then forced to shuck leftover lobster and clams for hours only
to have the hard earned meat end up in the freezer of some
off-campus house. Regardless, the die-hard workers remain
behind to clean up, as the rest of Bates heads home to put on
their hideous makeup and hairspray for 80s dance. However,
these workers get treated with a stop at the Topsham good-

Even still, for all the adventures and self-reflection I managed

to pursue there was an equal amount of time confined inside
in silence and solitude. The kind of stillness and quiet where
you can feel the vibrations of your eardrums at the slightest
sound. Solitude where your mind can wander and make
fantastical and foreboding tales at the slightest creak. But this
too has its place. Solitude and silence are rare and beautiful,
and rarer still is the ability cope with and even enjoy isolation. I am not saying it is the hermits life for me, but I will
say that the occasional bout of solitude, away from the hustle
of society and the incessant buzzing addiction of screens and
constant connection, helps me be a better me.

will, which remains a hidden trove of 80s gear, as it is out

of range of normal Bates pillaging. In short-term, this trip
is replaced with a Vermonster at Ben and Jerrys that is split
amongst the remaining volunteers. Those who have pulled
the full day shift, for whatever reason, return year after year
to the biggest outing club event each semester.
Although a scheduling conflict with Yom Kippur (see Bates
Student, Vol.143, Issue 2) cast a shadow on the preferred
choice of dates for our beloved bivalve festival, Fall Clambake
this year was a great success. Bates students arrived by bus,
car and bike to play on Pophams tombolo and gorge themselves on the BOCs dime. A lobster was freed on East Beach,
tears followed as the little red crustacean skurried into the
surf. It was a good summer for Striper at Popham this year
and we can only hope that our lobster followed the tide out
to Seguin Island safely.
Instead of religious holidays, the ever-fussy maine weather
posed as an obstacle to this years Spring Clambake. Much
to our relief though, the intermittent clouds that lingered
overhead most of the day never gave way to rain. They also
provided an unexpectedly valuable service in protecting our
still ghastly winter bodies from the sun.

Alumni Updates
Jeannette Packard Stewart 46
Readers interested in the succulent historical details mentioned by Mrs. Stewart
should fInd and peruse Bates Through the Years: An Illustrated History by
Charles E. Clark
I remember day outings at Thorncrag our first semester the
fall of 1942- when we were freshmen. hosted by The Bates
Outing Club. Then Uncle Sam took most of the men for
World War 2 and we forgot about the place. After the war
ended, we were married on August 9, 1947 when George
started his junior year- we lived in the barracks in Bardwell
House- facing Garcelon Field, one of three barracks for married vets.
We had work days at Thorncrag, as it had been ignored
during the war, and trimmed the paths. The cabin needed
repairs, I believe we spent the night thereI am thrilled that the Outing Club has it's own space in Chase
Hall. Will the remodeling of Chase give you more space? The
Bates Outing Club one of the oldest in the country- perhaps
the oldest coed Outing Club. Always positive feelings about
the Outing Club.

Ted TP Wright, former Faculty Advisor

I'm "TP" Wright, faculty co-advisor (along with the late Dick
Sampson) of BOC in 1957-65. After I moved to State University of New York at Albany, I joined the Albany chapter of
the Adirondack Mountain Club. Met my wife, Dr. Sue Standfast, on a canoe trip to Indian Lake in 1966 and was married
in February 1967. Three children and six grandchildren, but
can't say they're as active outdoors as we were, but Meg who
lives in Maynard, Mass.and teaches English in Westwood,
and her partner ski in New Hampshire. Two grandsons who
live near us are very good at soccer.
Recent travel: to the Netherlands last August on Schenectady-Nijkerk exchange. Visited Alkmaar where my Huguenot
ancestors lived 1575-1664 before moving to New Amsterdam
(now New York). In January we did an elderhostel in the lake
country to Chile and Argentina. In February, conference in
Bangladesh then a Road Scholar tour of Sri Lanka. Next, and
more in BOC's line will do an ADK canoe trip on the Green
River of Utah next month. In July trip to Switzerland for
European conference on Modern South Asian studies to give
a paper on Muslims in India's current election; Returning via
Greenland to visit Viking sites. (Saw other Viking artifacts
at Anse Aux Meadows in Newfoundland last year). January
2015 trip to Bali and Indonesia.

17
Joanne Stato 73 - My Camping History

When I was a kid, I was a Brownie and a Girl Scout, but I

never went camping until I came to Bates and went on a trip
to Popham Beach with the Outing Club. I did not have a tent,
although I did have a sleeping bag. The trip was awesome.
The next camping trip I went on with the Outing Club
was a canoe trip on the Cobbosseecontee River, a weekend
trip where we portaged our canoes overland, and the Bates
Commons gave us STEAKS to take with us. I put my friend
Barbaras L.L. Bean boat shoes to dry over the fire and burnt
them up. She was very nice about it. The autumn fields were
beautiful; I put my hair in braids and enjoyed paddling a
canoe for the first time ever.
What can I say? The Bates Outing Club introduced me to the
outdoors. I was a suburban New Jersey kid who had never
spent the night outdoors.
After I graduated, I moved to Denver, Colorado to travel
west with my cousin for the summer. We camped across
Colorado, Utah, Texas, and Oklahoma. At the end of the
summer, I found a job, rented an apartment, and stayed in
Denver.
During the next four years, I used my survival kit quite
often. I bought a touring bike, a sleeping bag, a tent, some
hiking boots, and I learned to start a fire. I camped all over
Colorado. I got a job in construction in the Ute Mountain
Range, one hour west of Denver, at a millsite that processed
minerals from a molybdenum mine. I lived in the woods,
cooked my meals on a campfire, bathed in a creek, and commuted up the mountain to my job in my Volkswagen station
wagon.
Fast forward thirty-seven years. I am still camping in the
same Alpine Design two-person tent at Janes Island State
Park in Maryland on the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake
Bay. The 2012 Derecho, a sudden storm that sent high winds
and high waves along the Atlantic Coast of Maryland, hit the
state park at midnight. I climbed out of my tent to see why
the high winds were whipping my hammock and inflatable
kayak to fever pitch. While I am out of the tent, a tree falls
on it, slicing it to shreds. My kayak fliew through the air and
landed 20 feet away from my campsite. My hammock was
just a bunch of shredded fibers.
I throw everything into my van and got the hell out of the
campground, arriving at the Chesapeake Bay Bridge to gridlock because a truck had almost fallen off the side.
A week later, I decide that after 34 years, it is time to order a
new tent.
All these years since Bates and the Outing Club, and I am still
dedicated to getting out into nature and enjoying both the
peace and the drama.

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Julia Holmes Reuter, Class of 1974
I live an hour from Bates in Bethel, Maine, and love it for its
outdoor opportunities and lack of crowds. Im still playing
outside and have been ever since I met my husband-to-be,
James Reuter, 75 on a BOC trip to Tuckerman Ravine in
May of 1972. Classic, eh? We both signed up alone, neither
of us had a friend who wanted to hike to ski! Six signed up
the other four were matched up. We did not fall in love that
day, but it was the day we met.
We hike, bike, and XC ski we gave up alpine skiing
years ago. Unlike many, we find alpine skiing boring and
cross-country skiing much more interesting. We're up to
taking two ski vacations to Quebec each winter to XC ski!
We love the guaranteed snow and the French culture. Professors Caron and Steele from the 70s would be pleased to
hear us speak French! Our favorite places are Mont GrandFonds, near La Malbaie and Camp Mercier in the Laurentides
north of Quebec City.
We hike here in Maine and New Hampshire and get out west
too we have enjoyed the Olympic peninsula in Washington,
many places in amazing Utah, and also, Arizona, Wyoming,
Idaho, Colorado, and California. We have yet to travel west
in the winter. Our son, John Rueter 07, lives in Sun Valley,
Idaho and wants to share his XC ski trails with us, but its
hard to leave our beloved Quebecois snow and easy drive
no shipping skis!
Currently, our summer passion is cycling and Jim cycles 10
months of the year. There's a great shop and group in Bethel.
Jim does "brevets" -- long-distance, timed rides. He and a
friend are working on qualifying for Paris-Brest-Paris, a 1200
kilometer ride in under 4 days in August 2015.
When at Bates, I always looked forward to the BOC trip
signs going up in Commons. Cant thank Bates and the BOC
enough for helping me find my outdoor-loving husband who
pushes me off the couch when I get lazy!
(Photo below; we are on the left. Dont you love Jims hair?
And on the right are Bert Andrews '74 -- now passed on and
there is an exercise room at Bates named after him and his
wife -- not married yet in 1972, Cindy Holmes Andrews '74)

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