The day has arrived to purchase boots for the trek. I think I may have found a place that has some. I’ll inquire within and report back.

I wonder how often that title phrase is used literally? Probably as often as the word “literally” is used literally. Anyway, cue the choir of angels, “Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

L.L. Bean stocks a variety of brands: their own brand, alongside Keen, Merrell, Oboz, Salomon, Teva, and others. My three criteria going in were mid-height, waterproof, and comfortable. I was partial to the Salomons, but they didn’t have clown shoe sizes (12+) in stock. So I asked to try on the Merrells, which is the brand Ma decided on for her Wainwright footwear, as well as the Oboz, which are apparently the latest fancy award-winning boots.

I happened to be wearing my Wrightsock double-layer crew hiking socks while traveling up the coast that day. Perfect! I got my foot half into a Merrell before aborting, asking if perhaps they had a half-size bigger? “Sir, that’s the size 8 you pulled off the display rack.” Carry on, then. The size 12 boots were decidedly roomier than the 8, but still a snug fit.

The Oboz were stiff. I climbed up and down the stairs and circumnavigated the store. They were like wearing alpine ski boots. I don’t care how many awards they won, the Oboz would need about 192 miles of breaking in. Meanwhile the Merrells, especially by comparison, felt like putting on a pair of slippers. I was comforted in the knowledge that Merrell doesn’t make size 12.5, so the snug size 12 Merrell Moab Mid GORE-TEX won the day.

I hope to road test these boots over the coming weekend in California. Stay tuned!

That was my cousin Ezra’s slogan as he blogged about his experience. I won’t say he fought cancer and then surrendered to it, or use some other clichéd metaphor to make it more digestible to the rest of us healthy bastards. To put it plainly, he contracted a disease, the doctors tried to eradicate it, it went away for a while, came back, Ezra decided not to treat it further, and he died in May at age 40. Half a life, yet he lived it twice as full.

I’m wearing one of Ezra’s work shirts right now. While sifting through bags of his clothes headed for donation in NYC this weekend, I picked out the grungiest one I could find. It’s gray, covered in a variety of grease stains, and it seems to have been snagged in a machine or a bike chain at some point. It’s too small for me. But I feel like a superhero wearing it. After all, my cousin was The Bike Maker.

As you know from my post about the ring, I have enough trouble letting go of living people who were important to me. Worse is when they’re taken from me and I can’t let go gradually on my own terms. And so it was that, after leaving NYC and spending ~17 hours with dear friends in Connecticut watching movies about a certain other ring that folks had trouble letting go, I found myself at my alma mater, WPI, saying “Fuck Cancer” yet again.

My thesis advisor, Matt Ward, who also taught my introductory and advanced graphics courses, passed away on October 13 at age 59. For those of you keeping score at home, I’m in my 20th year of a career in… computer graphics. I presented the paper Matt & I published based on my thesis at the IEEE Visualization conference in Phoenix, my first talk in front of a giant audience. And we hiked down into the Grand Canyon together. So let’s just say this guy was pivotal. We had been out of touch for years, but it just so happened when I heard of his passing that I already had plane tickets to attend his memorial.

It was originally going to be a late October celebration of his career, with Matt in attendance to receive awards, so I signed up without hesitation. But after deciding to discontinue treatment, his health failed quickly, and the organizers had to bump up the celebration to the end of September. As chance would have it — remember, I’m an atheist — I was already up in Massachusetts, on campus at WPI no less, for a recruiting event the very day on which the celebration was rescheduled.

Matt was sitting there in Higgins House in a wheelchair, blanket in his lap, occasionally summoning the strength to lift his head briefly to survey what was going on around him. There were many friends and colleagues in attendance, way more than I imagined, taking turns kneeling down to greet Matt. I worked up the courage to approach him, unsure if he would recognize me, moments before his wife wheeled him away forever. I thanked Matt for all the time he spent with me and said good-bye.

So I figured now I’m stuck with a useless October plane ticket, but at least I’ll have an excuse to visit friends and family in Ezra’s Harlem neighborhood and New England. Ha! Matt had the impeccable timing to leave us mere days before my October 20 return, his originally scheduled going away party. It became a New Orleans style musical wake, orchestrated well in advance by Matt who approached several musically inclined friends, “Hey, what are you doing in about 5 weeks? Would you mind playing at my memorial? I have some songs picked out…”

I’m not sure what the parting message is here. Bad things happen to good people? Life is short, so live like you are dying? Blogging about how other people’s cancer affects you is decidedly self-centered? Fuck cancer? How about: We are the pebbles. We migrate. That is all.

Don’t you all love those security lines at the airport? While we will all being doing some serious hiking once we get to the coast, first we have to get to the coast and for most of us that means flying. My understanding is that international fights are generally the cheapest around 4-6 months before the trip so I’m probably going to by a ticket in the next few months.

My current plan is to make my flights easy (meaning direct for me since there are lots of flights from Boston->Heathrow) so that means just flying into Heathrow airport in London and taking train/bus from there. So with that in mind I asked Google maps for public transportation from Heathrow to St Bees and it said 11.5 hours!. I then found if I first go to Euston Bus Station in London and then take a train to St Bees the total trip is 8.5 hours (Google you failed me). Driving this would take about 5.5 hours (making driving an option to save time). I also ask for public transit from Robin Hood’s Bay (end point) to Heathrow. That takes about 5 hours and driving is just slightly less at 4.5 hours (I’ll just take the train in this case).

We’re on the trail from June 6 – June 22. This means I will plan on getting to St Bees June 5th. The options I have are a red eye to get me to Heathrow around 9am June 5th and then go to St Bees. Or I can arrive in London June 4th around 8pm, sleep, and then go to St Bees. I’m probably leaning towards a red eye to get to Heathrow around 9am on June 5th and then the train to St Bees to get me there in the early evening, but if others prefer a car I’d be fine renting a car for a small group to do a road trip on this leg. The trip back is easier. I will just catch the train from Robin Hood’s Bay to Heathrow on the morning of June 23 and then catch a flight back to Boston in the afternoon.

What do others planning? Anyone want to collaborate on travel?

Back in November, Laura suggested I pack my boots when coming to visit Batheaston. I was betwixt visiting my recent hire in London and a standards body meeting in Chertsey. We were fast approaching our 6-month countdown to Wainwright, and planned to undertake a rigorous walk around Bath. Boots would be a necessity.

The boots gained some decent mileage around London first. Whilst traveling light, the savvy jet setter knows that a versatile collection of shoes cannot be accommodated. I wore my boots to the West End 3 times in total (Wicked, The Book of Mormon, Mathilda), which may be 3 times more than they’ll ever attend theatre again.

And so it was that Laura took me climbing up on Solsbury Hill. Boots/wellies were donned. The rain was falling hard. We were determined. Laura and I climbed Solsbury Hill (yes, THE Solsbury Hill) in her Škoda on our way to see ‘Allo ‘Allo! in Bath. Wainwright practice would have to wait for a less rainy day. After all, weather changes, and we’ll see nothing of the sort come June.

I received the tentative list of inns booked for June! This is getting real. An average of 12 miles per day still seems like just a number. Maybe it’s best if I keep it that way as long as possible.

Meanwhile I have a few months left to be thirty-something. Then I’ll need to buckle down and start doing something with my life. I still have time if I act now, right? RIGHT?!

2015, you are the first chapter of the rest of my life story. Long or short, comedy or tragedy, I have a feeling it will at least be a page-turner. Now where’s my corkscrew?

File this under “Aimlessly Wandering Pebbles” rather than migratory ones. I have a lot of strange and unrelated hobbies. But my New Year’s resolution is to collaborate more in creative endeavors. So let’s talk about my longest running collaboration to date.

Alicia Bessette and I have been friends since high school. I enjoyed her writing in English class and in our school’s literary magazine, and I respected how she already knew in 10th grade what she wanted to be when she grew up: a writer. Along the way I heard her play piano, both in recitals and just messing around in the school auditorium.

I’m not sure what possessed me, almost a decade later, to not only suggest that she record an album, but to suggest that I produce it. I guess I’m often overcome by confidence that exceeds my actual abilities. Mind you, I had no training in piano myself, nor in sound engineering, nor in anything else that would be useful to this collaboration. I just had this urge to make it happen.

20-something years and three albums later, I’m still as excited about each new song that goes from Alicia’s head, onto her piano (aka Naked Franz), and some months/years later via the magic of Wachusett Records and our state-of-the-art recording facilities (ha!) eventually to CDs, iTunes, etc.

I hope you enjoy this new video we recently completed. I expect there will be plenty more where that came from.

Almost same as the old boss.

The path of least resistance would have been to replace my canoe-tragic camera with the identical model. But you know I’m not the sort of guy to take shortcuts. Instead I will struggle with the adoption of a new-fangled Canon 5D Mark III. It is my cross to bear.

The truth is I’m intrigued by this camera’s potential, with sufficient hacking, to support RAW video recording. I suppose if I’m willing to take my cameras canoeing, then I may be willing to install back-alley, warranty-voiding firmware, too. Some people find their courage in the form of running into burning houses, or standing up to the school bully. Mine comes in the form of being reckless with electronics.

And now, after this joyous announcement, let the universe proceed to unveil a Canon 5D Mark IV.

I’ve taken the liberty of plotting a whole mess of geocaches onto our C2C map.  I don’t intend to make geocaching along the way a huge priority, but it could be a fun way to kill time while waiting for different subsets of hikers to regroup along the way.

Together Maurice and I have been experimenting with geocaching for over a decade now.  We used to be addicts, but we’ve recovered from those crazy days.  Now we’re just recreational geocachers.  (Come on… just one more!)

Learn about geocaching here.

Now Seth just needs to map out the best pubs along the route, and we’ll be ready to go!