No Regrets

I had been living in Rome attending Trinity College of Hartford's art history and architecture program when my good friend, Karin Norton, from the UCONN Hartford branch called to invite me to share a dorm room at the IDC for the 1978 winter semester. Immediately after arriving, Gary Allen Freed's (aka GAF) Maxfield Parrish reproduction captured me and we started seeing each other, although he had already graduated and was living off campus in Storrs. That turned out to be my last semester at UCONN and living on the East Coast after GAF, James Tierney, Wazoo (Matt Kahn) and Mary Krach and I drove across the country (two separate trips for me) -- everyone else went to California and GAF and I moved to Eugene, where I finished my degree at the University of Oregon, later settling in the Bay Area after GAF and I separated, although he eventually moved here too and also stayed. This past September 2018 was the 40th anniversary of my move to the West Coast! I didn't know anything about IDC until I joined the dorm, which decided to experiment with governing by anarchy that semester, which worked surprisingly well as most volunteered and pitched in to make our shared experience the best it could be. It was one of the freest times of my life, marred only by my roommate dragging me to the EST training -- guess there had to be some counterbalance there. I don't think I would have ever made it to the West without the IDC and the people I met there. No regrets whatsoever.

Maria Dulfu

Andiamo

Even though I grew up in a factory dominated town, I was always kind of an outdoorsy guy. Playing in the park down by the river, walking up into the “woods” which is now an industrial park, Boy Scout camping at the local camp and state parks. I decried the industrial pollution that I lived in, marching out of my high school on the first Earth Day, pulling trash out of the wetlands that went along the high school driveway All of that outdoor enthusiasm was taken to a new dimension in the IDC, when I met my friend, Rick Bombaci.

Rick had some of the same outdoor bent, but was far ahead me on of the curve of outdoor exploration. His Boy Scout experience was deeper and he had traveled further afield with his troop, up into the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Beyond his greater experience there was (and still is) a certain ethic, a certain intellect, a certain way of approaching outdoor recreation. I still teach the taut-line hitch, “two on the inside, one on the outside” and when the pack is too heavy ask myself, “what would Rick take out?”. The door had opened and I walked through.

A loose confederation of same spirited IDC people seemed to fall together. At the core were Rick, myself, Mike Babinski, and the lurpy lad referred to in a previous post, Doug Hammerstrom. Core is too strong a word I think. Anyone was welcome, lots of folks moved in and out. Some only went on one trip others went on several.

A trip was organized to Franconia Ridge in the Whites with Rick at the lead. It was as I was come to learn, a true Bombaci trip. Too many people (thirteen, I think). Each day way too long for the the fitness level of the group (raises hand sheepishly), lots of really tender feet, and no way there was going to be room at any of the tent sites on the trail for a late arriving group of college kids during a peak fall foliage weekend. The stragglers were encouraged, with the call of “just one more switchback” from higher up on the mountain. It was then, and still is, a lie. I was miserable, I was defeated, but when I popped over the ridge to see the Pemigewasset Wilderness in rust colored fall beauty, stretching out below with the Presidential Range behind, I was in love, forever.

There were bunches of backpacking trips out of the IDC. Let me tell you about some (groans and rolled eyes from my children). The Whites offered a return trip the following fall, and winter and spring break trips, including the Mt. Eisenhower Death March. There were trips to the Adirondack Mountains, featuring a clutch grab of my once and future wife sliding away down a sheet of ice covered rock to the lip of Panther Gorge and the epic winter trip named “Flaccid in Lake Placid”. IDCers were involved in the UCONN Outing Club, hiking all of the CT section of the Appalachian Trail in 24 hours. The Catskills and New Jersey Highlands offered hiking just after finals. People varied. If you had the time and the inclination, you could come along. You might come back with sore feet, poison ivy, a hangover or maybe a new life partner, but you always had a great story to tell.

And then, the Lurpy Lad from Pittsburgh came back from winter break ‘75 with a National Geographic. On the cover was a picture of a cold gray mountain, ribboned with snow, against a impossibly blue sky. The cover had a single word title, Banff. The lurpy lad uttered the most profound words he has ever spoken, “We should go there!”

And so it was I found myself in the August of ‘75 crammed into a VW microbus named, “Gus the Bus”, with Doug and Rick, and two kids from Pittsburgh whom I had never met (but who had gas money) on our way across the USA to the Canadian Rockies and Banff and Jasper National Park. If hiking in the White Mountains got me outdoor religion, The Skyline Trail was my pilgrimage to Mecca.

OK, just one story, since you asked. We had crossed over Nigel Pass down into a scrub meadowland. I woke early, needing to heed the call of nature. I unzipped the tent and made my way to take care of business. After fumbling with my shorts, I settled in, looked up and found a moose, a large cow, munching grass and staring at me about 20 yards away. I was astounded. In sotto voce, I whisper yelled, “It’s a moose!”, to my snoring comrades in the tents. “IT’S A MOOSE”, I whisper yelled again. By the time I backed up to the tents and stuck my head inside to again whisper yell, “IT’S A MOOOOOOSE!”, she was gone.

That trip has become a touchstone in my life. My IDC wife and I returned to the area in 1984 for a month of hiking, doing all of the the Skyline Trail in the company of IDCer Andy Horton. We returned in in 1995 with our children to reconnect with Rick and Doug who also brought their families for the 20th anniversary of the ‘75 trip. We went again in 1999 with our children and another family. When we retired in 2015, the first place we traveled in retirement was, Banff, Jasper, and Yoho. We were joined by one of my grown daughters and her husband for a trip up the Yoho River valley. As a group, we are thinking about going back in 2020 for the 45th anniversary, only because if we waited until 2025 for the 50th, we will all be close to 70 years old.

That trip to Banff has been a foundational piece for a life that from that point forward has always included the out of doors, environmental stewardship and friends. The friends from the early backpacking trips have become deep and abiding friends for life. I have expanded my outdoor skills beyond backpacking over the decades becoming an accomplished whitewater canoeist and kayaker. Doug dragged me into the world of cross country skiing. Babinski taught me about the discipline of riding a bicycle for hours. And Rick, well he still walks long distances. I am proud to have supported his Appalachian Trail walk now years in the past and I am in awe of his solo backpacking trips along the Continental Divide and the Northern Canadian Rockies.

Doug and Rick hang out in Wallowa County, OR, home of the Eagle Cap Wilderness. Rick lives there. Doug used to full time and now owns property there. Any of our trips west are arranged to connect through Wallowa. Doug and his wife Jodi celebrated their 30th wedding anniversary in conjunction with our 40th anniversary on a cruise along the Alaskan Coast. Rick and his family were through just a few weeks ago to attend a family wedding in CT. Babinski and I get together for “Grumpy Old Men” breakfasts a couple of times a month and ride the rail trails when we can. And that IDC bride of 40 years plus of mine? The only person who absolutely needs the outdoors to feel complete every day is Marsha Bean-Sokoloski. I am glad she has taken me along for the ride. Next spring, we are off to the Big 5 National Parks of Utah for hiking and biking.

And old IDC friend Susan B. just posted she is having a ball driving around New Zealand, camping in JUCY van. And IDC Andy has found a home on the beaches and clear waters of Belize.

Andiamo...

Steve Sokoloksi

Apologies on Comments Not Published

Some apologies are needed. I found out today that a setting on this blog was set wrong and I was not getting email notifications about comments that people have sent in and needed to be approved before publication. I have released all the comments that were in limbo. I especially want to apologize to the Crookston family where in my post I miss stated the cause of Burn's death, and the actual date of his death. I will edit the post with a correction.

Steve Sokoloski

Halloween at IDC

Last night’s trick or treating sparked some memories about a Halloween celebration at IDC. I am having a hard time figuring out if it was fall of 1974 or 1975. I think it was 1974.

Someone got the idea that we had enough people and enough creativity to dress up as the entire cast of the Wizard of Oz. And I do mean entire. Sure there was Dorothy and Toto and the Lion and the Scarecrow and the Tin Man, but being the IDC we went full bore to cover all of the bases. Someone dressed up as the Yellow Brick Road, someone dressed up as the Twister, down to someone who dressed up as the Horse of a Different Color. I remember my first inkling was running into some folks in the A side laundry room, where people were trying (ultimately successfully) to take a white union suit pair of long underwear and dye them yellow for the lion.

After the full cast was assembled, there a cross campus walk to what was then the Wilbur Cross Library. The old library with the beautiful twin reading rooms with the long brown tables and high ceilings. There was a rush past the security desk and dancing and prancing and singing through sleepy students spending Halloween studying in the Library.  At least they got a smile.

And the night did not finish there. The crew left campus and visited folks in the nearby Mansfield Training School complex. I do remember the crew and the party came back to the IDC, where much jocularity ensued….

I think that this memory has stuck with me because it encapsulates some of the best of IDC. A burst of youthful energy and creativity that exploded over the course of a few hours pulling people from different corners together and expanding the idea exponentially. It was pure fun. It was not to be destructive or mean, it was to laugh, with each other and then to share that hilarity with others on campus and beyond.

Dedicated to our late beloved friend, Jill H., because a horse is a horse, of course, of course.

There is a post in the IDC Facebook group with Norman Landerman and a few others recollations of this night....