Harvard Outing Club

The fool killer is a legitimate summit in New Hampshire, near the Tripyramids. The trip story is on its way to this webpage. In the meantime you can find some pictures here.

Version X

Despite a few last minute itinerary and attendee modifications, the first group of trainees packed a weeks supply of bagels from Winthrop on top of the already overflowing car and headed north! Arriving at the cabin, the trainees found a cabin packed with HBS students who, beer in hand, speculated about the purpose of our “huge knapsacks." After enjoying a batch of wonderfully warm, gooey brownies from the concurrent HOC trip, we set up the tarp and settled down to enjoy the soft sound of rain falling (and the not so soft sounds of the HBS orienting to their surroundings via alternative means). The night was short, but alas not devoid of mysterious nighttime visitors (villains?)! Early Saturday morning promised a brisk, flat, muddy trek past the Zealand Falls Hut to a campsite between the Avon and Zealand peaks (on the AZ Trail, fancy that!). Day 1 yielded several revolutionary discoveries: 1) cannibalism is hilarious 2)rape is bad 3)when pants come off hilarity ensues. Day 2 started out a tad later (3 hours) than anticipated, but three peaks (including the elusive Mt. Tom) were managed with ease and a brief
graupel/dippin-dot storm! The trip concluded with a stopover in Bedford, NH, where the legendary Hersher family treated the trainees and leaders with a wonderful spread of dinner and dessert.

No hazing took place, per Massachusetts state law.

- AB

31 October 2009

a tie-dye uni-suit from an age past in Mexico, an orange boa, swim goggles, a bandana, a gift wrapper, bright striped knee-socks, a bucket, a large pith hat

When the leaders arrived outside Lowell, a group of students had already assembled at the yellow school bus which was to bring us to the Blue Hills. There was some initial confusion (attributed to the time of day) as to whether these were participants, but after prolonged contemplation it was concluded that these were probably Dartmouth band people. The large instruments and green uniforms sort of gave it away.

While leaders were dressed somewhat ridiculously, it was with great dismay that as participants started appearing, cool hats and wigs remained alarmingly absent. There had been some worry as to whether capes would pose a problem hiking (see The Incredibles), but shockingly there was not an issue of capes. Rather, participants insisted the FDO had told them not to come in costume, contrary to what their advertising poster said. Recognizing that the participants were not at fault, they were finally allowed onto the bus.

The weather was warm and dry, with clouds racing above us. High spirits abounded and candy and chocolate was distributed en mass. We split into two groups, and wandered off into the hills. Though the altitude was perhaps lower than the highest peaks of the Rockies, we still managed to get great views of both Boston and the beautiful fall foliage (see picture below). It's amazing how turning one direction shows an industrial city on the coast, and the other direction shows a forested interior that is Massachusetts.

Sadly, the watchtower was not as tower-y as the hills were hilly. The tower was not open, and lunch had to be eaten on a warm rock instead. The gourmet brown bag meal turned especially epic when Jason's bagel was ambushed by a hungry dog.

Finishing the skyline group 1 arrived at the bus to meet Francisco on the dot. Group 2 *had an adventure* and had to un-lose themselves before returning shortly thereafter. They only missed out on a single round of what was anticpated to be a raucus game of zoo. Otherwise known by a million names.

Arrival back in Cambridge was marked by the sighs of returning to campus, and the smiles of a grand finish at Herrell's! All that remains is for the crazily costumed folk to attempt to redisguise themselves as normal Harvard students. Good luck!

After several weeks of us immaturely egging each other on my friend,
Princeton dropout and no account ne'er-do-well layabout Seth Priebatsch
and I finally made the trip out to SkyJump in Pepperell, MA. As we
drove up 128 we punctuated our conversation with nervous side glances,
sizing each other up. Fortunately, peer pressure carried the day and
the trip proceeded according to plan.

At the jump zone, as those of in the know refer to it, we went thru
some cursory safety training, although not quite as much as I was
expecting. The guy running the orientation spoke with a voice not
dissimilar to that of the sea turtle in finding nemo, which didn't
inspire great confidence. However, not much briefing is necessary for
first jumps because you're required to be strapped to a very burly
Brazilian person.

The plane had room for five, no luggage. Really old. Mad sketchy. I
was expecting falling to be a bit like cliff jumping, but it wasn't.
When you jump off of something and into water the only thing that has
time to happen in your mind is *jump, oh crap im falling, my my this is
unpleasant, prepare for impact*. With skydiving its more like *jump, oh
crap im falling, my my this is unpleasant, oh hey this isnt so bad,
more just weird, hm ive got like 40 seconds to kill here, zen, zen,
zen, deploy chute*. So really not too scary, and a unique sensation,
something like I imagine weightlessness would feel like.

All in all an interesting experience that I would recommend to anyone except my parents, who will never know about it.

- CZ

September 25-27

Nine fearless souls drove up to the Outing Club Cabin on Friday night. Group 1 got there first, and group 2 was rewarded for its tardiness when it discovered that group 1 had put brownies in the oven.  But group 2  came bearing "Rise Up Singing" songbooks, which were a delight to all before it was time to face the unanticipated challenges of sandwich making--beloved HUDS had gifted the hardy hikers with a number of curious items, including low-calorie bread.  The hikers did their best to remedy this problem, however, by creating such sandwich creations as the peanut butter-brownie-banana concoction.  Or the cheese-jelly-brownie one.  Brownies fix most problems. 

Saturday morning wake-up came before the crack of dawn, but the hikers didn't mind, because they got to indulge in a breakfast of cereal, real milk (oh, the joys of a cabin!), bananas, and crumbled brownies.  Luxury.  They then piled into the cars, and drove to the trailhead.  Because of logistical transportation quandries, they split into two groups to hike the route. 

Both groups had a delightful time conquering the 18.4 miles and multiple peaks that day.  Group 1 consisted of a handful of computer science grad students, and others who were mathematically/intellectually/puzzle-solvingly inclined.  They therefore devoted most of their 13 hours to attacking brainteasers, riddles, and other such nerdy things.  Speak to these people for a detailed explanation of how to protect a king from deadly (but water-fearing) spiders.  They can also give you the inside scoop on how to determine which of a number of colored lights should flash next.

Group 2 occupied itself with singing, endless singing--3 of the 4 people in that group were in a chorus or acapella group, and the 4th loved to sing too, though her tolerance of choral warm-ups was sorely tested.  They also spent more hours than reasonable playing the trail game Botticelli.  This group can assure you that Cleopatra, Drew Faust, Steven Spielberg, Martha Steward, Ghandi, James Taylor, Alexander the Great, and Barry S. Kane are all indeed more famous than Botticelli. Group 2 got so involved in its games, in fact, that it summitted two of the peaks without realizing it, and would like to propose renaming South Carter and Middle Carter "Mt. Surprise 1" and "Mt. Surprise 2", to complement the actual Mt. Surprise at the north end of the trail.

The hungry / weary / happy hikers returned to the Outing Club cabin that night to make themselves a delicious meal of pasta, salad, and more brownies.  The Appalachian Mountain Club hikers with whom our heroes shared a cabin tried to impress them with their battle wounds and new-formed map and compass skills, but the Harvard folks were pretty proud of themselves for conquering 18.4 scenic miles on a gloriously sunny day.  The leaves are fiery red, the views were perfect--fall is here!

Step 1. Rise and shine when the cars in line start their engines and give you the sign. 4:30am.

The Katahdin trekkers got off to an early start, causing some to stare uncomprehendingly at the HUDS miniature packets of jelly through the morning haze of sleep. Breakfast was nevertheless defeated, and two groups split off to hike the loop in opposite directions. As one group climbed above the tree line, the hilly Maine landscape revealed itself in full sunlight, which was almost hot enough for the hikers to want to dive into lakes many feet below. Reaching Hamlin Point, the clockwise-route group was able to survey the post-GORP Knife's Edge trail, as well as the steep Cathedral trail across the basin where the other group was climbing up.

Midday the two groups met at the summit, which was a bustling metropolis crowded by many Canadians (!), a carrot-munching overall-and-stripey-sweater hiker, and a pair of women celebrating their completion of the Appalachian Trail with champagne. We toasted their achievement and began the descent.

The knife's edge was knifey. The hike was long. The highest mountain in Maine was delivered to us on a sunny September day.

Unfazed by their inability to read, Group 0 set out at 10:10 am from
Newton and raced towards Harvard Hall to meet Group 2 (Aryeh and co.). 
They were hampered by both a lack of conditioning and buffeting
headwinds, and arrived at 10:42 instead of the planned 10:35 arrival
time.  Finding no one there, Group 0 headed out down Mass. Ave in hot
pursuit of Group 2.  When they reached Arlington Ctr without
encountering Group 2, Group 0 remained undaunted and diverted course,
pursuing Group 1 (Becky and co.) down the Rail Trail.  As they
approached Bedford--expecting to see Group 1 any minute--our fearless
adventures eschewed the normal paceline for a "flying V" in order to
impress Group 1.  Though Group 1 was nowhere to be found, other
passers-by were surely impressed by the thundering thighs and chiseled
calves of Group 0. 

When they arrived at Walden and discovered
that Groups 1 and 2 would not depart for approximately 22 hours, Group
0 did not descend into petty second-guessing and recrimination, but
rather chose to sit together and enjoy a beautiful day by the pond. 
Following their respite, they set out to blaze a new trail, tearing up
the pavement towards Dairy Joy.  After a satisfying pit stop involving
chocolate-dipped coffee ice cream, Group 0 happily headed for home. 
Despite their failed pursuits of Groups 1 and 2, participants expressed
great satisfaction in both their leader ("Thanks for breaking the wind
for all 40 miles!"  -Wingman #1) and the pace ("Man, that was rockin'! 
I was right on your wheel the whole way, and I never even had to break
my cadence!"  -Wingman #2).