On May 9 2024 I visited Little Island and Hudson Park. The Hudson River Park and Little Island both are situated in close proximity to each other. 

I took a quick stroll through Hudson River park and noticed the extraordinary brand and signage system designed for the Park inspired by its distinctive long, narrow form and the park’s unique merging of river, piers, and green spaces. The key feature about the tall signage totems was the fact that they were nicely integrated into the landscape but still visible from a distance without obstructing the view. Each totem is fabricated of stainless steel and tempered glass, lit with LED illumination for nighttime.

My next stop was Little island situated at pier 55, a former pier that’s been redesigned into a garden and a performance site. It is a beautiful floating park over the waters. The landscaping was absolutely magnificent offering different levels of spectacular views of the city and harbor. Little Island also has a rich variety of botanical plants which are nicely planned along the paths, stairs, or boulders. The whole park landscape is supported by precast concrete pots or columns going below the water. I was also driven towards the unique signage system designed for the park fabricated out of Corten panels and cut through typography very simple and blending completely into the landscape. This park has a common public space in the center for small events, food court area and play area for kids.

Through my visit, I  learned the importance of public parks in a busy city like NYC and how they play an important role in bringing people together and allowing them to interact, play, relax, imagine, learn and restore. 

I spent my Live It day in the Arctic Norwegian archipelago of Lofoten. My husband had dreamed of visiting Lofoten, and I had dreamed of going to the Arctic and seeing the Northern Lights, so this was a very exciting trip for both of us. We spent most of our days hiking around the area and quickly learned that many trails gave off a “hike at your own risk” vibe. There was always a sign at the start of the trail, but that was about the extent of it. On this particular day, our goal was to hike a trail along the ridge of these mountains (see photo). We set off confidently along the sea, knowing that eventually the trail should trend upwards. The trail seemed pretty straight-forward, so we didn’t feel the need to download the AllTrails route. We did eventually get to the top of the ridge, but it was not by a route I would ever advise. When we didn’t see the trail trend upward, we concluded that we had missed it, and decided to scale the chute of the mountain instead, using the tall grasses to grab and propel ourselves up. It was an exhausting and frustrating experience, and probably not the wisest on our part. I learned the importance of being prepared, but also the importance of a trail to be suitable for the user. Trail identity though confidence markers is essential to the safety and accessibility of the trail user, and I am glad DbD is committed to this important work!

Back in 2014, during my first semester at the University of Vermont, I had a choice to make.

For the first time in my life, I had the opportunity to get a season pass to a real mountain resort. But which one?

The mountains were part of what drew me to go to school in Vermont. Growing up in Maryland, I had limited experience with ‘real’ mountains and I was eager to explore this new realm of rhime ice and glades.

One mountain stood out to me, Smugglers Notch in Jeffersonville, VT. Something about its “off-the-beaten-path” nature drew me in. It didn’t have the corporate feel that Killington, Sugarbush, or Stowe had; with its double-chairs and small lodge, it had a certain pull, a hint of nostalgia of an era of ski resorts before Vail gobbled up the industry.

I ended up getting a pass at Smuggs, as it is so lovingly referred to, for every year until I graduated. I can’t remember the last day I rode there. Nothing special I imagine, but then poof. Spring carried on, the rivers flowed, and before I knew it I was graduating and moving on.

So, this winter when I received a phone call from an old buddy asking if I wanted to spend a day at Smuggs, I leapt at the opportunity to visit my old stomping ground.

Christmas in Vermont was magical with a bucolic landscape covered in white, but unfortunately the date my buddy and I agreed on, December 30th, was the end of that winter wonderland. Two days of temps in the high 30s and rain had left the landscape with a surprise mud season. The roads were rutted, the sap was flowing, and the rivers were high with brown water and ice flows.

Should we have just pivoted and gone paddling? Probably. But did we? No.

We scanned the radar, checked webcams, and ultimately decided that if we just did a half day we could miss the worst of the rain. So with coffee in hand, I met my buddy at a park and ride near his home, we grabbed sandwiches and a six-pack from a classic Vermont country store, and we were off to the mountain.

The rain was steady for our entire drive as we crossed river after river looking primed and ready for a couple of kayaks. But, we stayed the course, eventually pulling into the mud pit of a parking lot. As we parked, we cracked a beer and devoured our sandwiches as we waited for the rain to stop.

Finally, we saw a hint of blue sky and we jumped at the opportunity, before we knew it we were ripping down one of three open trails, slashing slush, and squeezing every bit of fun we could out of the side hits.

In the end we rode for about 4 hours, in ‘spring’ conditions, with some intermittent drizzles. But, the mountain was everything I remembered. The slow double chair allowed for my buddy and I to have ample time to catch up. The views were as scenic as ever and the terrain, though unopened, towered above us. My buddy and I relived our glory days and dreamt of the next time we could be back here with proper powder under our feet.

Two days later temperatures dropped and the landscape was once again plunged into a winter wonderland. We may have had the ‘worst’ day of riding for the foreseeable future, but in the end nothing beats hanging with old friends and riding at a mountain that will forever capture my imagination. If you get the chance, ski Smuggs, even on its worst day.

I traveled to Knoxville’s Urban Wilderness for the Appalachian Mountain Bike Club (AMBC)’s Annual Fall Festival at Baker Creek Preserve — Tennessee’s largest mountain bike gathering. It was a blast checking out the Preserve’s ongoing development and new signage, testing out the industry’s latest e-bikes, and spectating the whip off and best line invitational comps. Can’t wait to get more involved in both the sport and this awesome community!