The World’s Most Beautiful Resort

They say if all you have is a hammer everything looks like a nail. Well, when you are traveling and sleeping in a Toyota Sienna, every accommodation without wheels looks like a resort.

I saw JBL for the first time in September of 1972. I was just shy of 12 years old. My dad and I had hiked in 3.5 miles from the town of Keene Valley in the Adirondack Park in upstate New York for a week of living and hiking in the back country. We carried everything we’d need for the week: food, sleeping bags, a stove. The plan was to climb some of the 46 mountains in New York state that are more than 4,000 feet above sea-level, on our ways to becoming “46ers.”

We did not bring a tent. We didn’t need one. We would be staying in an iconic Adirondack lean-to just steps from Johns Brook. It was a lovely, idyllic spot, but the accommodations are rustic to put it mildly. A lean-to is a 3 walled structure, open in the front. The floor may be wood planks or just dirt. In 1972 most of the floors were dirt. A roof protected us from rain, but lean-tos can be cold especially in mid-September when the temperatures can go below freezing at night.

As we hiked the last quarter mile to the lean-to we passed a somewhat more robust structure. This was Johns Brook Lodge, my father explained, established as a backcountry lodge in 1925. Softer, less rugged sportsmen than we could enjoy beds, heat, prepared meals, and flush toilets. My dad and I, however, had no need for such niceties. We were backpackers. The real deal.

We had a beautiful week. My Uncle Marty joined us on Thursday. We climbed seven mountains, and I left feeling that the Adirondacks was the most beautiful place on earth.

So when, in mid-August of this year my wife and I planned to spend three nights in the same area, we reserved a lean-to. But three days before we were to hike in, my wife in her wisdom, looked at all the stuff we were going to have to carry in and suggested that we see if there was space at the lodge. The lodge costs more than a lean-to but at just $79 per person with three meals included, Johns Brook Lodge is a bargain. They even gave us credit for the lean-to payment. As my 62nd birthday approaches I decided to embrace my softer side.

The only way to get to the lodge is to hike there. It is a relatively easy hike for the Adirondacks. You start from a parking lot a few miles from Keene Valley called “The Garden.” I don’t know why it is called that. It is not a garden – just a parking lot. The hike is about 5 km and just about 300 meters of elevation gain. The trail crosses burbling streams and in a year like this, lots of mud. We carried everything we would need for three days in our packs. This included clothes, raingear, sleeping bags, camp shoes, and sleepwear. We would not need: food, a bear canister, or a cook stove.

Arriving at the lodge, you are greeted by a member of the summer crew. The crew is made up of four young people (usually college students) plus a slightly older person who supervises them. The crew member checks you in and assigns you to a dorm room. Bunks are first-come, first-served.

There are four dorm rooms at JBL. Two with four bunks each and two with ten bunks each, for a total of 28 beds. The beds are a bare mattress (you must bring your own bedding) and a pillow.

In addition to the dorms, there is a main room where lodgers hang out when not on the trails and take meals at communal tables. There is a wood stove, but it is only fired from November through April. There is also a large kitchen where the crew prepares meals for everyone. Everything is made of wood. There is a rustic feel to the whole place.

Each of the ten-bunk rooms has a bathroom with two sinks with running water and a toilet behind a separate door. The flush toilets are gone. It was decided for environmental reasons that it would be better to replace them with pit toilets. Every year, all of the human waste is collected in big plastic barrels and lifted out by helicopter for processing in a local plant. Toilet paper is provided, however. Those in the 4-bunk rooms have to go through the other rooms to visit the facilities.

The grand porch of Johns Brook Lodge is great for basking in the sun durning the day or star-gazing at night.

The lodge has electric lights powered by solar collectors on the roof. However, there are no outlets for lodgers to charge things, nor any wifi. Cellular signal does not reach the lodge. To see the lodge and learn more, check out this fine YouTube tour.

Upon arriving early in the day, Barbara and I were assigned to a ten-bunk room and staked out two lower bunks catty corner to each other. It was a lovely warm day, and we spent the rest of the day until dinner time sitting on the huge porch in (what else?) Adirondack chairs reading and planning our hikes.

With no internet and no cell coverage, your only option is to socialize with the other lodgers. Such accommodations create instant affinity, and within minutes you are chatting away with your fellow travelers as if you had known them all your life.

Dinner was simple but plentiful: vegetarian chili, corn bread, salad, and a very sweet apple cobbler for dessert. At 10 pm, the staff turns out all the lights and if you aren’t already in bed when that happens you will be shortly.

I awoke in the night and went outside to see the stars. The sky was stunning. The moonless night was so filled with so many stars it was nearly impossible to identify the constellations. The Milky Way filled the heavens like so much star dust. There was no human noise. Just the wind in the trees, the crickets, and the brook happily about its journey toward Lake Champlain and the sea. I was loath to return to bed.

Breakfast is served at 7:30 am and is a carb-lovers dream. Pancakes, French toast, oatmeal. Some days there are eggs and treyf meats I can’t eat.

Lunch is a bagged affair, the assumption being that you will be on the trail. You have your choice of a peanut butter and jelly or hummus sandwich or you can have one of each if you think you will eat them. Also, a bag of trail mix and a big cookie.

There is a tap to fill your bottles with potable water and off you go.

On the second day, we returned from our hike at about 4 pm. There are no showers as much as I would have liked one. However, you can take a dip in the very chilly Johns Brook. The brook is fed with snowmelt and rain from high in the mountains, so it is plenty invigorating.

Dinner on the second night was black bean burgers. I wasn’t that crazy about them but there was ketchup, which made it work and the buns, baked on the premises, were delicious. Dessert was a shockingly sweet chocolate tart. We ate everything.

The following day, Barbara decided to relax and chill at the lodge so I did an easy(ish) climb of a mountain called Big Slide that I first did with my dad that September in 1972. The day was fine and blue, and I made good time for me, though I was quickly passed by a family with two teens that were staying at the lodge. The hike, though not terribly long, was challenging enough ascending more than 2,000 feet over 3 miles and requiring some scrambling up some rock faces.

I arrived at the summit just before noon and just in time to see the family that had passed me before they started down. I chatted for a few minutes with another family (a young couple and their mother/mother-in-law) eating my lodge-provided peanut butter and jelly sandwich before they too started down.

After they departed, I sat alone on the bare rock summit gazing out at the group of mountains in the distance known as the “great range.” I thought about my life and all that has happened in the more than 50 years since I had first sat here with my dad. I thought of my own children and how they too have come to love the natural world. I pondered this gift my father and mother earth have given me and wondered if I would ever sit on this spot again.

As I sat, a wind began to blow some large dark clouds in my direction and they began to fill the previously blue sky. It was as if the mountains wanted to remind me that behind the staggering beauty of the “forever wild” lurked danger for those who were overconfident or took their safety for granted.

I am not one of these. When I hike, I carry a map and compass, a GPS device and a phone loaded with maps and a backup power source. I also have raingear, a lamp, a way to make fire, a water filter and water purification tablets. Still, I didn’t linger too much longer once the clouds started rolling in.

I took a different trail down. It was shorter but steeper following a lovely brook most of the way. The brook eventually joins with Johns Brook and leads back to the lodge. I arrived a good hour before the rain started and cleaned up as best I could before dinner. It rained the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. It was cozy in the warm, dry lodge.

Dinner that night was pizza and although it was not as good as mine, it was damn good nonetheless. There was also homemade bread with garlic butter and dessert was a lovely white birthday cake with sprinkles. It was not too sweet and there was a lot of it.

Is Johns Brook Lodge the most beautiful resort in the world? I don’t know. I’m not even sure it is a resort. But, beauty is in the beholder’s eye, and to this beholder it is. True, there are no showers. The toilets are a bit smelly. And the food though tasty would not, I dare say, garner even half of one Michelin star.

Yet the quiet isolation of this place, the fact that it can only be reached under your own steam, the nights absent of human light or noise, and the unquiet majesty of the mountains that surround the valley speak to a kind of splendor that is too rare in our increasingly crowded world. Rare too is the sense of companionship in sharing such a place with a few other kindred souls who love and appreciate it.

The Adirondack Park sees many more visitors each year than it did in 1972. The park saw more than 12 million visitors in 2021. Yet it is still possible to spend a day here and not see another human soul. Most of the 12 million never make it into the back country. Those that do are often in a few popular areas. When you are miles from a paved road on an unmarked herd path, there is still a sense of the wild, of wilderness and yes, of danger.

I am too cynical to be confident that such places will always exist, but I am grateful that I was here while they did. I am even more grateful for the time I spent therein.

Life’s a narrow bridge; fear nothing.

Be Prepared!

“EDC is a collection of various, handpicked items carried on a daily basis. More importantly, it is a systematic approach to being prepared for anything the day requires.”

— gearmoose.com

Believe it or not there is a group of people who are obsessed with what is in their pockets or at the least on their person each time they go out. They call this pocket stuff EDC or Every Day Carry, meaning the things you never leave home without. There are entire YouTube channels and websites devoted to the topic. Some are more general and encompass all the items that might possibly be EDC such as: watches, pens, wallets, flashlights and more, while others drill down on one type of item, say pocket knives.

Then there are branches of EDC folks who are thinking along lines a bit more intense. These are the preppers and the survivalists who have bags devoted to allowing them to survive in a crisis of any kind.

EDC does not usually include the things that many people actually do carry every day. For example, a smart phone, a tablet, a computer would not be considered EDC even if you carry them every day. On the other hand, a notebook and pen could be EDC. EDC enthusiasts even fancy themselves a cohesive group (they’re not) and refer to themselves as the “EDC Community.” I have a fascination with all of this stuff and consume a lot of EDC and prepper content.

I was a Boy Scout for a few years. I didn’t think much of the paramilitary aspects of the group. Nor did I care much for accumulating merit badges or rank. When my troop dissolved when I was 15 or 16, I had only achieved the rank of first class, which was a long way from Eagle Scout. I was a Boy Scout mostly because we went on a camping trip every month and because I liked the gear that went along with camping: flashlights, lighters, lanterns powered by gasoline, compasses, and other cool stuff, much of which you could stash in your pockets.

One thing I did like about the Boy Scout “ethos” was contained in the scout motto: “Be Prepared.” Be prepared for what exactly? For anything!

Have you ever thought that when Tom Hanks’s character Chuck Noland got stranded on the Island in Castaway he would have had a much easier time if he’d had a lighter and a knife in his pocket? I have!

Sometime last spring I met my friend Scott for lunch at a “healthy food” themed restaurant in Fairfax, Va. As I sat down, I noticed that there were no saltshakers on the table. Fearing the worst, I drew a tiny bottle of salt from my pocket and placed it on the table as I sat down. “Salt,” I told him. “Just in case.”

He immediately insisted on my emptying my pockets and showing him what else I had. On the chance that it may interest you or even inspire you to add to your EDC, I’ll share the contents with you as I did with him that day.

Here’s what is in my pockets today and most days.

1. My keyring. Attached to it are my house keys and post office box key, a metal tube with a waterproof screw top that holds a two-week supply of levothyroxine (my thyroid medication), a bottle cap lifter, an AirTag in case I lose the key ring, and a mini rechargeable flashlight the size of my thumb.

2. A pocket knife. Most days I carry the Spyderco Chapperall - small enough that it doesn’t look like a weapon but large enough to cut slices of apple or open a box.

3. A lighter. (See Chuck Noland above). A simple Bic lighter would do fine but I have the Tokyo Pipe Company Field L in brass because it looks cool and is refillable, not disposable. When camping I use it to light the stove, otherwise it sits in my pocket unless a smoker needs a light.

4. My wallet. I have several wallets but mostly these days I am carrying a very thin wallet from a company based in Singapore called the Taurus Camp Grain Wallet. It is a beautiful little thing with no breakable parts. Each one is handmade by the guy who owns the company. He sent me a nice handwritten note with the wallet. The wallet holds what you would expect - credit cards, ID, and a few banknotes.

5. The sleeve I keep my phone in, which also has an AirTag in its pocket because I lose this sleeve all the time.

6. A 15ml Nalgene bottle of Jacobsen Sea Salt for times when I am in a restaurant, or someone’s house and the food is under salted. This happens a lot.

In addition to what is in my pockets, I also often carry a manbag (a purse by any other name). I carry the Waterfield Crossbody Essential bag in the compact size. This company makes wonderful bags. All made by hand in their shop in San Francisco. I have a lot of them.

The contents may vary depending on what I am doing that day but usually in the bag is:

Crown King of Sporks

1. A pouch with charging cables for my phone, watch, and iPad, and a power brick that can charge three things at once. The pouch is also made by Waterfield.

2. A 500ml water bottle.

3. An Apple magsafe battery to extend the battery life on my phone.

4. A notepad.

5. My Esterbrook Estie Fountain pen.

6. Chapstick.

7. Earplugs.

8. A spork so I can avoid using disposable plasticware if I get food while out and about. (I love this one in titanium. but you can get a plastic one for about $3.50.)

9. Sunglasses.

10. iPad Mini.

11. Apple Airpods Pro 2.

12. Tissues.

13. Yet another AirTag in case I lose the bag.

Finally, I have ANOTHER bag that I keep ready to grab should I need to evacuate quickly due to a hurricane, civic emergency, or should the Proud Boys try to take over the council chambers of our town (population 400). Inside this bag is:

1. My passport.

2. A headlamp and another flashlight.

3. A battery bank charger for phone or other items.

4. HP 12c Financial Calculator, simply the best financial calculator ever made.

5. A 3-month supply of levothyroxine.

6. One pair of my prescription glasses.

7. A multi-tool with screwdrivers, a blade, a can opener, and a corkscrew.

8. Aspirin, Advil, and Tylenol.

9. Band-Aids.

10. A simple toiletry bag with toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, nail clippers, and contact lens solution.

11. A notebook.

12. A three-month supply of fountain pen ink.

13. 6 KIND bars.

14. $10,000 in diamonds.

Ok, that last item is not true. However, I do have a roll of U.S quarters and a Canadian Loonie.

When I travel, all the pocket stuff and both bags go with me, and if I am hiking my backpack has a few additional items to survive a night in the woods:

1. A compass and a real physical map.

2. A water filter

3. A Garmin GPS device and extra batteries.

4. Another lighter.

5. A rain jacket.

6. A headlamp.

7. A long sleeve shirt.

8. A warm hat.

All of which to say, that when, last Wednesday, my wife and I underestimated the time needed to complete our ambitious hike in the Adirondacks and found ourselves in the backcountry with another hour and a half still to go after sunset, we were ready. We whipped out our headlamps, strapped them to our heads and hiked on in the moonless night to arrive safely back at the trailhead where the van waited.

The world’s a narrow bridge; fear nothing.

The Year of Living Negatively

June 30, 2022 somewhere in the Yukon Territory on the Alaska Canada Highway my wife and I overtook a significant mile marker, not on the Al-Can but on the highway of life. At the close of that day my wife worked what was likely her last day of her last full-time job and with that our earned income as a couple ceased.

I had stopped working full-time back in June of 2020 but my wife’s income had more than met all of our needs and though I turned the magical age of 59 and a half (the age at which penalty free withdrawals are permitted from an IRA) in February of 2021, we had not needed to draw any of retirement savings.

On July 1, 2022 that all changed.

I started saving for retirement in 1987. I was 26 years old, and Barbara and I had just returned from a 16 month trip backpacking around the world. Though we spent just $7 per day, we spent everything we had. We came home with a net worth of just about zero -- actually, a bit less than zero as we both still had undergraduate student loan debt. We found temp jobs, rented an apartment in Arlington, Va. And in July of that year, I found a regular job that offered a 403 (b) type retirement plan sponsored by ICMA Retirement Corporation. A rep. from the company came one day to explain how it worked.

It seemed like a good idea. I started putting in $20 per pay period of my own money into the plan and after six months on the job my employer started contributing a few percent to the plan on my behalf.

Even then I knew that neither my wife nor I was likely to have a traditional pension and future of Social Security seemed in doubt back then too. I wanted to be able to retire at an age when I could still enjoy it and realized that everything would depend on what we were able to save and invest.

Then I blinked and the day had arrived. After 35 years of living beneath our means, saving the difference between what we earned and what we spent, and investing it as wisely as we could, there were no more earnings. The spigot was shut and now we had to pull the proverbial plug and live on the water as it drained from the sink. It was a disconcerting feeling.

As it turns out, Social Security is still around. However, though I am eligible to apply this year, I have concluded that it will be better to wait until age 70 to claim as that will result in a higher monthly benefit for me and perhaps more importantly for Barbara should she outlive me. Barbara can apply for her benefit now but has not yet done so. While we decide on that, her benefit is also increasing each month we delay.

So, for the last year, we have lived mostly on our savings. I say mostly, because at the beginning of 2023, I took a part-time job with the Jewish Grandparents Network. The bulk of our living expenses, however, are still being drawn from savings.

Once over the shock of money moving in only in one direction – out, I needed to make a plan for how to draw and manage the flow. And since I am a DIY when it comes to finances, I needed to create the plan myself.

We had multiple goals that were sometimes at odds with each other.

First and foremost, we had to managing the withdrawals in such a way that they were likely to last as long as one of us was alive. Of course, the big challenge here is that for the most part, one doesn’t know how long one is going to live. It could be five years or it could be forty.

The quick rule of thumb is the “4% Rule.” This rule says that if you have a portfolio that is invested in 60% stocks, and 40% bonds you should be able to withdraw 4% of that in the first year of retirement and then adjust that amount for inflation in each subsequent year. Your money should last for 30 years. Outliving your savings is more of a problem that your savings out living you, so it makes sense to be conservative here. Some experts say 4% is too high and that the number should be closer to 3.5% or even lower.

The opposing goal is that you want to be able to draw not just enough to meet basic needs but to do the things you want to do. The whole idea of retirement is to have the time and the resources to travel and do the things you couldn’t do when you were working full-time. So, although you don’t want to outlive your savings, it doesn’t make sense to die with a bunch of money in the bank either if doing so means living a smaller life in retirement than you need to.

Lastly, there is the goal of minimizing taxes. The bulk our savings is in tax deferred accounts like IRAs. Uncle Sam kindly allowed me to stash away all that loot on a pre-tax basis. But now, the man with the red, white, and blue suit and matching top hat is camped on my front lawn. Each time I go outside, he wants to have a word. He says he wants me to pay income tax on that money I earned as long as 30 years ago. For purposes of taxes, each time I make a withdrawal from an IRA, it is taxed like earned income and if I go over a certain amount, it could push us into a higher tax bracket meaning more taxes on each additional dollar withdrawn. The Great State of Maryland wants its share too. That means the amount in the bank is actually significantly smaller than it appears.

Making things more complicated is future Social Security. When I do finally claim my benefit, it will reduce my draw on savings, which means that I can draw a more now than I could if there was no Social Security. I do that by calculating a present value for my social security payments, which considers the current interest rate, our future payments from social security and a guess at how long we might live. The longer I live the better the numbers look. And if I don’t live long, well then running out of money isn’t a problem!

In developing my withdrawal plan, I started with the premise that, if possible, I’d like to stay under the top of the 12% tax bracket. The next bracket (at least until 2025 when the current tax rates could expire) is 22%. That means that for each dollar drawn after that bracket is reached, you are paying 22 cents on each dollar instead of 12.

Fortunately, the top of the 12% bracket happens to be very close to the amount that we need to live on plus be able to do most of the things we want to do. It helps that though we travel a lot, we travel modestly – cooking our own food and sleeping in our car (van). But even if we live on less, it still makes sense to draw up to the top of the 12% bracket since in all likelihood, taxes will never be lower than they are today (but who knows?). We can save the extra in an after-tax account. The other reason to draw up to the top of the bracket is that eventually (for me age 75) our kindly uncle begins to get antsy about getting his share and you are required to withdraw from your pre-tax accounts. These are known as RMDs, required minimum distributions. If you haven’t taken enough in early years, you could find yourself in a higher bracket as you age with few options at that point for reducing your taxes.

Fortunately, when future Social Security is considered our burn rate is less than 3.5% even if we spend every nickel we withdraw.

Plus, I do now have a small income and even a little bit of money flowing in, makes a big difference psychologically. It helps justify small purchasing or indulgences; I might otherwise be inclined to skip. “A new iPad? Why not, I’m working.” “The fancier coffee? Why not, I’m working!” “A summer cottage in Maine… well maybe not”

Retirement is full of adjustments and many of them are psychological. I have friends who are in their 70s who continue to work at full time jobs. I don’t know what their financial situation is; perhaps they need to work (but I suspect not). They claim to love their jobs, which may be quite true. But part of the reason to continue to work full time when you no longer need to do so, is that work provides an easy sense of purpose, an anchor for one’s life, an identity.

For my part, coming to grips with the idea what I do for work is not who I am, finding meaningful ways to spend my time that is not work, and yes, enjoying spending what I saved has been a worthwhile endeavor.

Living negative can be a whole new way of valuing your time, your life, and your money.

The world’s a narrow bridge; fear nothing.