Last weekend, I went out into the frosty mountains with Klinutus and my evil sister. It was about 16 degrees up in the snowy mountains.

I got to try out my Subaru’s AWD in the snow for the first time. It worked very nicely.

There was a lot of rocks. I hate rocks. Especially when they’re under the snow and you can’t see them.

Because I am a very clever boy, I had a thermos full of coffee in my backpack. So, I was fully caffeinated for the hike.

There are a lot of nice views on this section of the trail. Here is Klinutus contemplating endless infinities or whatever.

At any rate, it was very nice, except that I twisted my ankle or something out there, and have been out of commission for the past week.

Klinutus brought along his camera tripod, so we could pose for our end-of-the-hike group photo.

Another four miles down, only 768 left to go!

Here she is with no rain fly. Other than the floor, the whole thing is mesh, so on a nice night, you can see the stars without getting eaten by bugs. The door is cool, too. It’s only attached at the very top of the teardrop shape, so it doesn’t flop onto the floor when you’re getting in and out. There’s a pocket in the roof to stick the door into if you want to keep it open.

There’s a door on each side so you can get up to go pee in the middle of the night without having to crawl over your tent mate.

Here’s an overhead view from my deck, showing my sloppy pitch of the rain fly.

The moment of truth. I was able to get into it and lie down without my head or feet touching the ends. With a big fluffy winter sleeping bag, I might touch. It was too warm to try it today. Unlike most other tents sold as “2 person” tents, I think I could actually share this with somebody and not end up wanting to kill them in the middle of the night.

There are vents in the top of the rain fly to let out condensation, farts, etc. You can open and close them from the inside, so you don’t have to go out in the rain. That’s pretty nice.

There are little orange tie-out points all along the perimeter. I suppose you could tie it out really well if you were expecting a blizzard or something. I doubt I’d ever use them. The vestibules are fairly small. You could probably fit your shoes and a few odds and ends in them with no problem.

This is first tent I’ve ever owned that wasn’t some piece of shit from Wal-Mart, so I’m probably a little bit more excited about this than a sane person would be. I’m looking over my maps for bike-camping opportunities. I’ll hopefully get a chance to field-test it soon!

It snowed pretty hard for a while.

Sophie was rewarded for her bravery in the snow with a doggie biscuit.

Another 6 miles down, about 770 to go.

We hiked about 9 miles through icy wind and snow squalls, then we passed a hunting cabin where some classy fellows decorated the trees with women’s undergarments.

25 miles down, 773 to go!

We had some wet weather to contend with, which afforded me the opportunity to try out my new poncho.

We had pretty miserable conditions, but the poncho kept me dry, except for my legs, which got thoroughly soaked in an outright downpour near the end of the hike.

I foolishly packed my camera down in the bottom of my pack, so I didn’t get any pictures, but Apertome did.

I’m particularly pleased with the smart fashion statement the poncho makes in the woods. Very “Odhinnic-Wanderer chic,” with just a hint of un-dead superhero.

Fashion aside, it was a very nice hike despite the weather. It put me 10 miles closer to the State Forest Hiking Award. 14 miles down, 784 to go!

Apertome has posted a nice write up of the day on his blog. I don’t think there’s much I could add to his account.

I hiked the Rocky Knob Trail in the Michaux State Forest.

The trail is a fairly easy 4 mile loop. There’s only one real climb, and you are rewarded for your labor with a nice view.

If you look carefully, you will notice that the leaves are falling here in Pennsylvania.

I took my GPS along, and now the Rocky Knob Trail is in OpenStreetMap.

4 miles down, 794 left to go before I get my ceremonial walking stick.

Well, they do. You get a certificate, a patch, and a “ceremonial walking stick.”

I would really like to have my very own ceremonial walking stick.

I’d also like to finish walking all of the Appalachian trail in Pennsylvania. All together, it comes out to about a thousand miles of walking.

At the end of this, I will be a grizzled old mountain man.

With a ceremonial walking stick.

You will all, no doubt, be greatly jealous of my grizzled manliness, and of my walking stick. If you ask nicely, I will whack you in the head with it.

My walking stick, that is. Not my grizzled manliness.