High Point State Park Monument Hike

On Saturday, I had to drop off Junior at a school far from home, and was scheduled to come back and pick him up five hours later. It was a structured academic thing so there was no way to stick around the school, nothing to watch. It was either spend that time reading a book in my car, or find something to do in Sussex County, New Jersey.

High Point obelisk

Some quick research revealed that the school was not far from High Point State Park. After failing to find my New Jersey Atlas/Gazetteer around the house I printed a trail map from the park’s website instead. As the name implies, High Point State Park is the top of the Garden State. Don’t be too impressed; it’s 1800 feet above sea level at the summit.

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The Blue Cooler

I can’t think of too many things that I owned in 1993 that I still have today. If I dug through my dresser drawers I might find my high school ring. My book shelf has a couple yearbooks from back then, probably a few other books I was given as a kid. I can only think of one thing that I have for sure owned since I was twenty one years old and have used continuously ever since, my blue cooler.

To say I own the cooler might not be accurate. We found each other some time in 1993. I was in college and sharing a place in the Bronx, near Van Cortlandt Park with four other guys. There were a lot of people in and out so I can’t really say who first brought the blue cooler into the apartment.

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A Bad Day Skiing

By Saturday I’d been in a foul mood for at least ten days. Job stress, a seemingly endless stream of bad news from family and friends and an energy-sucking head cold combined for a perfect storm of gloom. On top of it, I missed skiing the weekend before and a mid-week warm spell, followed by plunging temps overnight, could only mean one thing for Saturday — ice.

a bad day skiing

It was one of those cycles where a little flexibility made all the difference. Friday was a spring-like day filled with sunshine and corn snow. By Sunday, the mountain ops would have time to groom everything into fresh, carve-able corduroy. With the ice locked in, Saturday would suck. Friday or Sunday were obviously better choices.

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