Anders Monsen

Lost worlds and ports of call

Author: Anders Monsen (Page 4 of 81)

Day four on the Appalachian Trail

May 7, 2024 /

Blood Mountain is not a bad climb going north-bound. The descent, however, is the nightmare part of the trail.

I awoke early, around 7am, feeling somewhat refreshed. I can’t say that I slept well, as I tossed and turned all night, which is usual while camping. I broke camp quickly, stuffing all the items into the backpack rather than folding them neatly as before; I would later repack properly at the hotel. I collected my bear canister, which appeared untouched. My attempt at breakfast failed, as I could not hold down even small amounts of food. I figured that with less than four miles to hike, I could make it with just water, as solid food that day didn’t seem to work. The other campers nearby were quiet, so I tried to pack up my gear quietly as well.

The final hike up Blood Mountain proved fairly easy, and I reached the stone shelter at the top in short notice. I didn’t stop there, but as I walked passed the shelter I saw the female hiker who’d passed me right before Springer. She was packing up her gear, and didn’t see or didn’t notice me as I walked passed the shelter. At this point, anyway, I was still tired and didn’t feel particularly sociable.

The view at top of Blood Mountain was obscured by trees. There were gaps here and there, but I didn’t pause or walk around the site. Instead, I followed the white blazes on rocks and trees, and eventually these led me downward. I crossed expanses of rock, paused now and then to find the trail, and then it became a matter of bouldering downhill. At times the trail became less rocky, but the descent was for the most part tricky, rife with rocks and roots, and it took me longer than I expected. At one point, where the AT intersected with some other trail, I had to pause and search for a white blaze. Shortly after that confusing moment, I encountered a trail runner. I was surprised, as he was older than myself. He mentioned that he’d just cut through a large fallen tree. We talked for a while about the trail, and how it was poorly marked. He lived nearby, and volunteered regularly to check the trail. I bid him farewell, and continued downhill.

Eventually I saw a road, and then a sign announcing the other side of the Blood Mountain Wilderness. Neel Gap lay ahead. I’ve head people refer to it as Neel’s Gap, as well as Neel Gap. A tarmac road intersects the gap, just like Woody Gap. On the other side is Mountain’s Crossing, a store that stocks food camping items. They also have a hostel. Apparently 25% of thru-hikers quit here.

I crossed the road, reaching the tree where many thru-hikers give up and toss their boots and shoes. As a section hiker, and having only brought one pair of shoes, I kept my shoes on my feet. I ascended some stairs, then I dropped my pack outside the building and walked inside. The place looked like a mix of a mini-REI and a tourist trap. There were t-shirts, hoodies, gee-gaws, food, shoes, and other camping gear. I bought two Cokes, took them outside and gulped down the first one. It was 9:30 in the morning, and I was exhausted. I drank the other Coke more slowly, then walked around the store once more. I bought some magnets for my wife, went outside. Someone offered me slice of pizza, but I didn’t think I could eat anything. However, after a while I reconsidered, and realized that I needed to eat something. I bought a small packet of chips and a Sprite. Shortly after consuming both, I threw up, which was far from my proudest moment.

I walked around the building, trying to get back to normal. I placed my slightly used gas canister in the hiker box, along with a lighter. Maybe someone would benefit from those items. Eventually, the thru-hikers who’d camped at Lance Creek showed up, one by one. I greeted the ones I knew. Then, two of the women I’d met at Springer showed up. The other two in their party had quit at Woody Gap and had returned to their starting point in Helen, Georgia. The two remaining hikers planned to continue onward to Unicoi Gap. They’d also been the ones that I’d heard arriving near my campsite at the base of Blood Mountain. Props to them for continuing. They were from Florida, a place as flat as my own home base, or maybe flatter, and had hiked relentlessly up and down each mountain.

At Neel Gap I contacted my shuttle. When I first booked the shuttle, I’d asked them to pick me up at 1pm, as I thought I would camp at Woods Hole Gap, and also that it would take me a while to hike up Blood Mountain. They were dropping off another hiker around 11am, so could get me two hours earlier than planned. I hung around Mountain’s Crossing, and thought about all the ups and downs of the trail, how I had failed to embrace the suck, and how guilty I felt for complaining along the trail. Shortly after 11am, the shuttle driver arrived. It tool an hour to drive back to Amicalola Falls State Park. My car was covered in detritus from the trees. I drove back to the visitor center, dropped off my parking pass, and headed toward the conference on Lanier Lake.

Along the way, overcome by hunger, I pulled into a strip-mall, where I found a pizza place. I ordered more than I could eat, took the rest with me, and got back on the road. At the conference center, I spread my camping gear over one bed. Over the course of a few days I slowly organized the gear into my backpack for the return flight.

Would I change anything? Yes. I should have taken longer breaks, and worked more on my food intake. I now know that the Appalachian Trail involves a lot of ups and downs. And I mean a lot. Every “gap” listed on the map means an up and down, or a down and up. This is something that reading blog, books, etc. will not teach you. Watching videos on YouTube is no substitute for the real thing. There is a lot of climbing. At least I was lucky with the weather, as it never rained nor snowed while I was on the trail. It was hot, however, which I didn’t expect for this time of year.

Will I go back? I hope so. I really want to complete Georgia. I want to hike the northern part of Virginia. When? I have no idea. Maybe in 2026, as I tend to plan out things a year or two in advance, and 2025 already has specific goals. Will I complete the entire trail? It’s 2,100 miles or more. Hiking 40 mile sections at a time will not get me there, not with the years that I have left. So, I highly doubt that I will even hike a quarter of the distance. That doesn’t bother me. The trail crosses 14 states. I might walk three or maybe four of the states. So be it.

If you hike the Appalachian Trail, either as a day hiker, a section hiker, or a thru hiker, take a moment to marvel that this trail exists. To anyone who walks the AT, where it’s a mile or the entire distance, take many moments to pause at the fact that this trail exists. I count myself lucky to have been there, even I walked less than 2% of the trail.

Day three on the Appalachian Trail

May 6, 2024 /

I awoke early, packed up, and was on the trail before the trio of thru-hikers broke camp. They were all young, maybe mid-thirties, and highly motivated, so I figured they would pass me at some point during the day. Today’s goal was Woods Hole Shelter, at the foot of Blood Mountain, just over 12 miles from Gooch Gap Shelter. It would prove a tougher day than the one before, but also a highly rewarding and emotional day.

I rejoined the AT trail in good spirits, and although the trail still went up and down, for a long while it actually followed a contour line along a mountain. I stopped at a clearing with a great view, chatted with another hiker, and we took each other’s photos with the view as a background. Familiar hikers passed me. I passed some of them. There’s a section on Blood Mountain where bear canisters are required. A quartet of thru-hikers (three from Gooch Gap Shelter and one other) planned to camp just outside the bear canister zone, at a campsite called Lance Creek. They worried that the limited number of tent sites would fill up, and considered options slightly beyond that area. I carried a bear canister, so I didn’t worry about locations.

Slightly before the halfway point, I encountered the thru-hiker who wasn’t keen on close neighbors. He mentioned a rumor of trail magic ahead on the trail. At this point I had started to flag, and in a moment of despair told him that I expected all trail magic gone by the time I arrived. I think I expected a single cooler with soda cans, nothing more. Instead, as I reached Woody Gap, a location with a paved road intersecting the trail, I saw a professional-looking sign announcing trail magic ahead.

It turned out that a pair of older women who had hiked the trail years ago each year drove down from Indiana (I think, as I can’t exactly remember their home state). They handed out hot dogs, chips, cookies, other snacks, and sodas. I was briefly overcome with emotion as I thanked them. All other hikers who reach that site thanked them and asked if they could donate money, but were refused. I ate my hot dog, a bag of chips, and drank my soda. Nothing tasted as great as that brief meal.

After lingering there an hour or so, I lifted up my pack and entered the Blood Mountain Wilderness. My goal the for day lay just over five miles away. I would prove a difficult five miles. Much of it was uphill. The heat pressed down on me. Twice I reached a creek, where I rested and poured liters of water on my head. One of the thru-hikers headed for Lance Creek passed me, as did two others.

Eventually, I reached Lance Creek, where I saw three hikers had sent up tents. I waved to them and told them I was continuing onward, as it was early afternoon. When I reached the plateau right before the last climb up Blood Mountain, I saw the sign for Woods Hole Shelter. It lay 0.4 miles downhill, away from the trail. I grimaced, then started down the trail. After around a tenth of a mile or so, I stopped. I really didn’t want to walk 0.4 extra miles each way, especially uphill the next morning. I consulted my map and saw there was a campsite up the hill. Returning to the plateau, I dropped my pack and rested for a while (a euphemism for collapsing on the ground and resting my head on the pack). Another hiker arrived, and asked about the shelter. I pointed down the hill, warning him it would be a bit of walk. He decided that was not an issue, and departed down the hill. After a while, I picked up my back, tossed out a few curses, and continued up Blood Mountain.

Shortly thereafter, I reached a creek, where I once more poured several liters of cold water on my head. Feeling invigorated, I started my ascent up the steep hill. To my surprise, only a short distance away I found the listed campsite. I dropped my pack, and made an inventory of my water. Two of the water bottles were empty. I had around four miles to hike the next day, and for the sake of hydration insurance I took those empty bottles down the hill and filled them up at the creek. Back at the campsite I put up my tent, taking many breaks. I tried to eat something, but my stomach at this point couldn’t handle any food. Two hours of sunlight remained, and that light pointed directly at my tent. I gathered up all smellables—food, toothpaste, sunscreen, etc—into the bear canister and wedged it between some branches up the hill, then crawled into my tent and tried to rest.

At some point during the evening I heard a coyote, then some female voices. Other hikers had found the same camping area. Each tent pad in that campsite was far enough away that I never saw them, but I heard them for a while talking and then greeting another late arriving hiker. My goal at this point was just to get some sleep. A couple of hikers that I’d encountered a mile or so before the start of the true ascent of Blood Mountain said it wasn’t a bad climb on fresh legs, so I thought that a night’s rest would help. It turned out that was true, at least for the climb. My fourth day consisted of less than four miles of hiking, so I knew it wouldn’t be another long day. I also had a deadline of 1pm, when my shuttle would arrive to take me back to my car. I worried about the uphill, but it was the downhill that would prove the hardest part of the day.

To be continued…

Day two on the Appalachian Trail

May 5, 2024 /

After the “approach trail,” which apparently not all thru-hikers take, I went another three or so miles to Stover Creek Shelter. My total distance hiked for the first day was ca. 12 miles. At Stover Creek, I set up my tent, then made my major mistake of the hike, one I would repeat one more time: I failed to eat dinner. Instead, I crawled into my tent around 6pm and just tried to sleep, despite sundown still two hours away. Even though I wasn’t tired, I felt that I needed the rest, and also I didn’t feel hungry enough to heat a freeze-dried meal. Nor did I think of a snack at this point.

One of the things I learned in my over 500 miles of hiking along various trails is that consistently I fail to properly fuel while hiking. I lose my appetite somewhere along the trail, and I struggle to eat solid foods, either power bars nor rehydrated food. I eat sparingly, and pay the price near the end of the day. This is far from ideal, as hiking multiple miles in one day meals that calories are burned, and the body needs to be replenished. I probably also do not drink enough water, although I made an effort on this trail. I carrier three liters of water, and refilled my water bottles often along the way, using both a filter and purifying tablets. The days were hot, and I made myself drink fairly often as I walked. Still, I probably didn’t drink enough.

First day, not so bad, I thought. I camped where I planned to camp. The next day, I planned to hike to Gooch Gap Shelter, another 12 or so miles from the Stover Creek Shelter. I woke up early, packed up my tent and gear, ate a breakfast bar, and set out on the trail around 8am. At first, I took it slow, enjoying the green tunnel and silence, until I was passed by another hiker. Then I re-evaluated my pace and went from a stroll to something faster. Another mistake. Hike your own pace is the key. However, from now on I measured myself against this hiker’s pace, as we would leapfrog each other time and time again in my days on the trail. This shadow of mine was a thru-hiker, around twenty years younger, and quite motivated. Along the trail I’d encounter at least five other thru-hikers, plus some section-hikers like myself. They each had amazing stories behind the reason for hiking the AT. Had I known about the AT in my early thirties, maybe my life would have been different.

Nothing prepares you for the AT (or probably any long distance trail). Not watching multiple YouTube videos. Not reading blogs and hiker diaries. Not reading many books about thru-hikes and attempted thru-hikes (I’m looking at you, Bill Bryson). I’ve hiked in Big Bend, Bryce Canyon, northern New Mexico, in Nevada, plus various locations in Norway. Most of the trails in these location have moderate hills, or one big climb. Not the AT. The AT is an almost constant up and down trail, at least in northern Georgia, with each mountain interspersed with “gaps.” After while, when I saw a sign announcing a gap a few miles ahead I groaned, for I knew this meant a big downhill and then a big uphill, again and again.

After Three Forks there was a waterfall. I plowed onward and uphill, bypassing the Hawk Mountain Shelter and campsite, then Hightower Gap, Horse Gap. Somewhere along here I took a break by a creek, where the four women I’d met on Springer also were taking a break. They’d hiked from Springer to Hawk Mountain their first day, and were planning to hike as far as they could over the span of five days. We chatted for a while before I headed back on the trail. And then, Sassafras Mountain. This was a brutal climb.

After resting at the top of Sassafras, it was downhill to Cooper Gap, where I took a long break to eat and recuperate. Next, I crossed a creek, with a sign pointing to a campsite just north of the creek. My goal was Gooch Gap Shelter, so I kept walking. The last mile was tough, and I started asking out loud, “Gooch Gap, where are you?” I crossed another creek, where two older hikers were filling up on water, and then, finally, Gooch Gap Shelter.

I found a vacant tent pad, set up my tent, and worked on making dinner and filtering water. After another 12 mile day I was exhausted, but I forced myself to eat a freeze-dried meal that I heated up. I’m not sure what it is with these freeze-dried meal packets, but they tend to overstate the amount of water needed. They’re also designed for two portions. Instead of a nice meal, it was more like semi-soup, but I ate half before I gave up. The day had been hot, 85 degrees F. Where I’d pitched my tent the sun shone directly on it, and I had more than two hours until sunset. I tried to sleep, then took a break to visit the privy. I’m not sure if people just can’t handle public toilets, but it looked gross, and I had to close my eyes to do my business. Then, back to the tent and solitude. The thru-hiker I’d camped next to at Stover Creek was there, but he strongly hinted that he didn’t want a close neighbor, so I’d set up my two pads below his tent. Another thru-hiker camped between us, and they chatted a long time. I found my noise-canceling headphones and enjoyed a brief moment of silence. Finally the neighbors stopped talking, and I managed to fall asleep. At some point during the night, a third thru-hiker had pitched his tent next to the first one, so he ended up with a close neighbor anyway. As for the night, I woke up multiple times to snoring from the nearest neighbor. Good times.

To be continued….

Close to giving up on Twitter aka X

May 4, 2024 /

I used to like Twitter. Now it’s called X, and I via a browser I no longer appear to have the ability to post anything. Is it the network? is it the tool? I don’t know, but it’s becoming less and less a place that I visit. I like Musk’s stance on free speech, but the tool is become less and less usable since he took over. I’m close to quitting that app, just as I deleted Zack’s app a few years ago. At least, here (for now) I control what and when I can publish my silly thoughts.

The Steep Approach to Springer

May 4, 2024 /

On April 14, 2024 I took my real first steps on the Appalachian Trail (aka the AT).

Well, ok, I’d walked a few yards on the AT in the past—in the same location—once in ignorance and once deliberately. This was at Harper’s Ferry, in 1998 and 2023, the former before I knew anything about the AT, and the latter just to tell myself that yes, I had trod on that path. I never expected to be on that trail again for many years, if ever, due to work commitments.

I learned about the Appalachian Trail around 2017 or 2018, and then almost by accident. My son was in Boy Scouts, and I was planning some hiking trips with a goal to hike some trails in Philmont, one of the high adventure locations in New Mexico. I read a great deal about hiking and proper gear, and in that reading I came across a blog by an Australian who’d completed the Triple Crown, a feat of long-distance hiking in the USA that included the Continental Divide, the Pacific Crest Trail, and the Appalachian Trail. At almost the same time, my company had a couple of off-site meetings north of Atlanta. Right after the second meeting, I learned that the southern terminus of the AT was around an hour’s drive from that location, and vowed if I ever had the opportunity to return that I would at least visit that location.

In the meantime I watched lots of videos from people who hiked the AT, read books about the AT, and the trail at that point became almost a personal holy grail. I didn’t think I’d ever complete a “thru-hike,” as that required five to six months, but I wanted to at least hike part of the trail. Also, in the meantime I hiked a lot (over 500 miles in five years), but always with a group. My son and I hiked part of the Colorado Trail (only 29 miles). We hiked around Lake Georgetown (north of Austin), several locations in Big Bend (the state park and national park), a few places in Norway, Utah, Nevada, and even a long trek in Philmont. Yet, never had I hiked alone.

That all changed in April, 2024. When my company announced the 2024 off-site would take place back in Georgia, I made my plans. I would take four days to hike 40 miles, from Amicalola Falls to Neel Gap. Then, a shuttle company would take me back to Amicalola State Park, from which I would drive the hour to the off-site meeting. A perfect plan. Or so I thought.

I arrived in Atlanta two days prior to the hike, drove through heavy traffic from their airport to REI—an outfitter store—where I picked up a gas canister and some water purification tablets. The next day I bought some food the at a couple of grocery stores (Aldi and Lidl, which don’t exist in central Texas). Then, the day before the hike, I drove to Amicalola State Park. This is the location where hikers who are planning to go the whole way pick up tags marking them as thru-hikers. It’s also the start of the “approach trail” to the souther terminus, which is Springer Mountain, over eight miles away. I sorted out a long-term parking pass with the staff, walked up the trail to the top of the falls, and checked into the Lodge, and hotel up the hill from the park. The weather looked great, according to my map the trail didn’t seem difficult, and I looked forward to the next few days.

Little did I know that things are different on the AT, especially when carrying 30 plus pounds of gear, food, and water on your back. Little did I know how much the trail goes up and down, vs. up to stay there before a final descent.

The “approach trail” stretches for over eight miles, and much of it involves going uphill. I learned that much of the AT itself involves a lot of uphill, and a lot of downhill. I’m not sure which part is worse. I started out early in the morning, after a quick breakfast at the lodge. Here I grabbed some lightweight jam packets to use with my peanut butter packets and pita break for lunches. Then I drove down the steep hills to the visitor’s lodge, parked my car, and headed to the visitor center buildings.

I was delayed slightly while i debated whether or not to attend a session from one of the park rangers. Since they were busy with thru-hikers, I gave up after half an hour of waiting and started up the trail. I didn’t need to register, since I was only hiking 40 miles. I also had the 10 essentials, as well as filters, water purifiers, and a bear canister. No “noob” on the trail here…. The approach trail usually goes along the river toward the falls, but part of that trail was closed, so I took an alternate route. I’d climbed many of the stairs near the falls the prior day, so it didn’t bother me to skip that part.

The sign indicating the trail to Springer warns hikers that it’s a long trek, an average of six hours. I did it in far less, but the finally climb up Springer almost did me in. At one point I paused at a rock a few hundred meters near the top, next to another hiker. For a moment, I felt like I blacked out, as I heard nothing of his comments. Meanwhile, a young woman with an accent that sounded German passed me, with perhaps a scornful glance. To her this hike was nothing, but I had at least thirty years on her, and I hate cycling/walking/running uphill anyway. Scorn mean nothing at that point. Still, after a while resting on a rock, I gathered myself and walked up the remaining short distance to the official start of the AT.

At the top of Springer I encountered some other people, a mix of thru-hikers, day-hikers, and section-hikers like myself. People took photos, marveled at the location; to some it was the start of a major adventure. I ate snacks, including maybe the first Kwik-Lunsj on the AT—a Norwegian chocolate that I’d brought with me for this occasion. Then, it was a matter of a short hike down to the parking lot, and continuing onward along the actual Appalachian Trail

To be continued…

The Knight and Knave of Swords

April 28, 2024 /

A few months ago Centipede Press released volume 7 in their reprint of all of Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and Gray Mouser books, The Knight and Knave of Swords. This was the last book in the series that Leiber wrote, originally published on December 20, 1988 by William Morrow. I know this because that 1988 book was my first Leiber hardcover, a review copy that someone gifted to me, with the press release letter still in the book.

I’ve written before about my gradual accumulation of this series in hardcover format. All my other copies were paperback editions, acquired in used bookstores in the late 1980s and early 1990s, when one still could fine those Ace paperbacks in decent shape. So, when Centipede Press announced this series I made it a point to check their website, subscribe to their newsletter, so I could know the exact dates these books were published.

In this book, Centipede Press has outdone themselves. There are, per the publisher, “seven interior illustrations, a full-color frontispiece, two maps, a full color wraparound dustjacket, and illustrated endpapers.” With an introduction by Marc Laidlaw, artwork by Tim Kirk, and bonus material at the end, there’s a lot to absorb and enjoy. It even smells great!

Centipede Press has released both signed and unsigned copies of the book. Mine are of the unsigned variety. Leiber died a few years ago, so those signatures would be a facsimile, and my miserly self isn’t ready to shell out extra coin for the other contributor’s signatures.

If readers (or buyers) are new to this series, then finding the earlier books might prove an expensive endeavor. New from the publisher the cost had been somewhere around $70-$80. On the secondary market, either from dealers or collectors looking to offload books, the cost triples. Centipede Press books tend to fetch a premium on the secondary market, at least for books older than a few years. Supposedly there are two more books announced in this series, per the publisher: “Swords Against the Shadowland by Robin Wayne Bailey and a ninth volume which will be a book of all sorts of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser archival artwork.” Since, in this case, I got in on the ground floor with volume 1, I’ll go for the last two, as here I might actually a chance for a complete set.

In the meantime, I’m torn between re-reading the stories from my 1988 edition, or gently reading the stories from the new edition. The bonus material is one thing, but spending hours with such a gorgeous book is another thing altogether.

Howard Waldrop, RIP

April 26, 2024 /

I started to write something about Howard Waldrop the day I learned he died, when I read about it on Lawrence Person’s blog on January 15, 2024. Back then, I found it impossible to put any words together about Waldrop. I still struggle today to find the right words; I’m not quite sure why I’m thus affected, as I knew him mainly through his fiction.

I met Waldrop only twice in my life, so, unlike many of the people who have written about Waldrop, I never knew him personally. The second time I met Waldrop, coincidentally, was at Person’s house in June 2005. I happened to drop by to buy some books when Waldrop and Bradley Denton both were there, two writers I greatly admire. I managed to get a few books signed, mumbling a few world to each writer about how much I liked their stories; Waldrop grumbled a bit as he inscribed a copy of Howard Who? which he’s already signed, as it was one of the books I bought from Person that day, but I persisted, as an inscribed copy meant more to me. A few years earlier I’d stood in line at Armadillocon in 1989 and Waldrop had signed A Dozen Tough Jobs and Them Bones, a pair of books published by Mark V. Zeisings that were my initiation into his fiction. I only know these dates because Waldrop added dates to the books he signed.

Between 1989 and 2024 I bought virtually every Waldrop book I could find, which I think is all save one original book and two collections of stories that I already own in other formats.

Howard Waldrop is known for writing stories at the last minute, pressured by having to read them at a science fiction convention, and for mainly writing short fiction. He’s also known for not making a ton of money for his fiction, despite the admiration of many a writer and editor. The funny thing is that I have never heard Waldrop read a single story. Sure, I attended Armadillocon for many years between 1988 and 2000 (and a couple of times since), but for some reason I always left the convention early, long before Waldrop did his famous readings. Since I lived in Austin, where the conference was located, I never stayed at the hotel, and generally left after the dealer’s room closed, or found some other excuse to skip the crowds. Instead, I read his stories in books as they were collected and published, with my inner voice, rather than Waldrop’s own Texas twang.

These books include Howard Who? his first collection, which I didn’t read as an introduction to his work. Rather, after Them Bones and A Dozen Tough Jobs (a novel and long novella) I read is short fiction first in the collection, Strange Monsters of the Recent Past, a paperback published by ACE Books in 1991. Unbeknownst to me at the time, this book had been published in a hardcover edition by Ursus in 1987 under the title, All About Strange Monsters of the Recent Past; in early 2023 I found a copy of the Ursus book online and acquired the signed, limited edition, a gorgeous slipcased book signed by all 11 contributors. My next Waldrop book after the 1989 encounter, was Night of the Cooters, a book published by Ursus in 1990 (or 1991, as Waldrop wrote when he signed my copy in 2005). I only have the trade edition of this book, but the title story is a classic retelling of H. G. Wells’ War of the Worlds, set in rural Texas. (I missed out on acquiring a signed/limited copy, as I thought that, since I already have one hardcover edition, why spend money on a second? Dumb, eh?)

After Night of the Cooters, I bought another collection, Going Home Again, this time bought from Adventures in Crime and Space in Austin, back in the good old days of independent book stores. This book also was signed by Waldrop on that day in 2005 (as I brought it with me hoping to get one book signed), where he remarked that this book was “remaindered and pulped, all in one operation.” Going Home Again contains a bibliography, which since has been superseded by other, more recent stories. Waldrop’s statement about the remaindering and pulping still saddens me to this day. Waldrop was heavily involved in SF conventions throughout his life, even WorldCon. But did he ever get a Hugo Award, the supposedly “best SF award” from fans? No, not ever. Instead, the Worldcon fans, who nominate and vote on the Hugo Award, each year put forth their puerile faves, and each year the genre shrinks.

Some other collections that I acquired over the years: Custer’s Last Jump, under the Golden Gryphon imprint, published in 2003. I was lucky enough to get Waldrop to sign this book, which he inscribed “good luck getting these boyos to sign this” as it’s a collection of collaborations. Who are the other authors? Bruce Sterling, who rarely visits the US these days. Leigh Kennedy, who lives in the United Kingdom, Steven Utley (deceased 2013), Buddy Saunders (still around, but apparently an unperson for certain views), George R. R. Martin (impossible to approach these days as his fame rivals that of Stephen King), and A. A. Jackson.

Dream Factories and Radio Pictures appeared and vanished just as quickly. The Heart of Whiteness was published in a limited edition by Subterranean Press in 2005. My copy is number 615 of 750 printed (plus 26 lettered copies). Imagine that, a collection of Waldrop with only 750 (or rather, 776) copies! In 2013 Small Beer Press published A Horse of a Different Color, containing stories written after 2008. A pair of collections were later published by Old Earth Books, mostly already published stories (if not all already published stories). Between 2008 and 2023, no trace that I can find of new fiction from Waldrop.

In 2023 Subterranean Press announced a new collection, called H’ard Starts, one intended with all monies going to Waldrop. For some reason, despite his brilliant stories throughout the years, Waldrop never quite reached the fame and financial reward that his stories merited. H’ard Starts, the collection of early tales, was slated for publication later that year. I pre-ordered a copy the moment I learned about it. On regular intervals I checked the Sub Press page, which still advertised the book for many months. Despite the presence of George R. R. Martin’s name (for years he was a friend of Waldrop’s), the book, limited to 750 copies, remains available as of this date. Where are the Waldrop fans? Then, finally, the book was published, and reached my hands. It was numbered 290 of 750 copies. Maybe people didn’t buy it because Subterranean Press gets limited attention, or the price made people hesitate in our current economic age of inflation and misery. Then again, the fans just aren’t there. The Hugos that are voted on by “the fans” don’t grace Waldrop’s bookshelves, despite the plethora of candidates throughout the years.

A few months after H’ard Starts was published, Howard Waldrop died. There is no justice in the universe.

Why do I like his stories? In one sense, they are unique. Many of them are alternate history tales, and in that sense he’s not too unique, as other writers inhabit this genre. But Waldrop writes primarily in the short fiction form, and he takes ideas almost too weird to exist and makes them real. Maybe it’s that weirdness that speaks to me, that power of invention and crazy imagination. Waldrop also has a certain style, one not easily (if ever) imitated. I hardly knew him as a person, having only met him twice, and as nothing more than a fan. But, from what I’ve read from the people who knew him, he was one of a kind, not just in terms of his fiction, but as a person. Rest in Peace, Howard Waldrop, and thanks for crafting into words some of the greatest stories ever written.

Books Added: Five by Charles de Lint

April 21, 2024 /

Charles de Lint is prolific writer whose books have become harder to find. In the 1990s and early 2000s, paperback copies of early de Lint books were still available, as well as newer ones in hardcover, at least in the local new and used bookstores. Even though I dislike beat-up books, or books with cracked spines, I bought any de Lint book that at the time I didn’t own, regardless of condition. For a long time I mostly owned de Lint paperbacks. I slowly started accruing some hardcover editions when those appeared. Then, shortly after the year 2000 the number of books I bought dropped sharply. Reading habits changed, kids came into my life, I moved cities, and a host of other things happened around the same time. I looked at my de Lint books recently, and compared to his published output, although I own close to 30 of his books, that’s maybe around half his published books.

These days, as I’m trying to fill in a few gaps with books from favorite writers that I’ve missed over those “lost” years, de Lint’s books are high on my list. It seems that a fair number of his books in the 2000s were published in limited editions by Subterranean Press. These all are now out of print. Looking at the list of books under his name from that publisher, it would take a fair amount of money and effort to collect them all. But, I’ve slowly started to pick up a few of them.

First of these was Promises to Keep (Subterranean Press, 2007 – trade hardcover edition). This slim novel features an early tale from a character that has appeared in other de Lint stories, Jilly Coppercorn. With over two decades since I last read anything by de Lint, I don’t remember having previously encountered her. (Note: glancing through my stack of paperbacks I see that Jilly appears in Dreams Underfoot, a collection of linked stories. I’ve this book for many years, and I think I read some—or all—of the stories at some point.)

Next, Eyes Like Leaves (Subterranean Press, 2009 – signed, not numbered hardcover). This is early novel. It was first finished in 1980, but as de Lint explains in his introduction, his then editor cautioned against publishing it, as she felt it would pigeon-hole him as a “secondary world fantasy author.” At the time, he had already published a few novels, and was moving into a more contemporary fantasy genre, so he set aside the manuscript. Prompted by the release in book form of some earlier short stories (see below), he dusted off this book, cleaned it up a bit, and so we have a “lost” novel from de Lint, set in a magical world in an imaginary land.

Then, The Wind in His Heart (PS Publishing, 2018, signed and limited, #214 of 500 copies). This book, which I read in March 2024, is set far away from his usual imaginary city of Newford in Canada, and in the afterword de Lint mentions that the market for his adult books disappeared, and for years he had to write young adult stories. This probably explains one of the reasons in my gap of de Lint books. Still, I’m maybe part of the reason of that disappearing market, as until quite recently the last de Link book I bought was back in 2002; looking at an online bibliography, he published over 25 books since that 2002 purchase.

A Handful of Coppers (Subterranean Press, 2003 – signed, not numbered hardcover), contains some of the earliest de Lint stories. Every new writer needs to read a book like this, if only to remind themselves, as de Lint writes, that whether or not the stories he wrote back then are good or not (and writers mostly look back at early fiction and cringe), they were the best that they could be at the time. Many a new writer has looked at his or her first few stories and given up, seeing only rough, misshapen plots and characters. It takes time, work, effort, and someone like Charles de Lint put in a ton of effort to become a great writer, something evident even in his early stories.

Quicksilver & Shadow (Subterranean Press, 2005 – signed, not numbered hardcover) follows with more early tales. While the stories in A Handful of Coppers are mostly in the fantasy genre, the ones in this collection are described as “contemporary, dark fantasy, and science fiction.” Subterranean Press published a slew of de Lint books over the years, so I now feel the pressure to find the other collections and novels. Maybe it’s time to re-read some of the ones that I read so many years ago, as well.

Book Added: Robert McCammon’s Baal

April 14, 2024 /

I first read a Robert McCammon novel sometime in the early 1980s, when I read a handful of vampire novels, including ones by Bram Stoker, Stephen King, Anne Rice, and, of course, McCammon’s They Thirst.

Then, in the 1990s, on a different continent, I read a handful of McCammon paperback originals—The Wolf’s Hour, The Night Boat, Stinger, and Blue World. I tried to keep up with his books in hardback once his novels moved to that format, although I had to pause and backtrack when they only became available in expensive small press editions. Along the way, prior to those small press editions and as I switched to current hardcover books, I missed out on a trio of paperbacks—Swan Song, Bethany’s Sin, and Baal.

In terms of Swan Song, I don’t mind not having the paperback, as I was able to get the hardcover Dark Harvest edition via my brother-in-law, who at the time was a part-time book dealer with similar tastes in fiction. He even brought me back the book from a convention he attended, where McCammon had inscribed the book to me, even though I wasn’t there in person.

Lately, I’ve acquired a handful of these small press editions, usually the less expensive trade editions (many small press publishers create two to three different editions of the same book. The more expensive ones tend to have some extras, such as slip cases, or additional material). Now and then I’ve been lucky enough to find a few of the limited books by chance, notably Blue World (signed, limited edition) and The Border (just the “deluxe hardcover edition”), and all the Matthew Corbett books save The Queen of Bedlam. A few of the rarer ones remain beyond my price threshold.

However, I’ve finally reached the point again where I can buy newly released McCammon books as they are published, rather than deliberately hunt down available copies on the second-hand market, like I did with a hardcover copy of Bethany’s Sin and the pair of vampire westerns, I Travel by Night and Last Train from Perdition (there really needs to be a third, novel to wrap up the trilogy, but that likely won’t happen). Now and then I check a few online places for what’s currently listed.

Then, recently I found an approachable (in terms of price) copy of the Subterranean Press edition of Baal, the only McCammon novel that I’ve never read. It’s also the first novel he wrote, back when he was only 25. Usually this novel fetches prices well in excess of $150, but in this case I found a copy for a third of that price. The cover looks grim, and a brief synopsis I read also portends a grim novel. Aside from this book, I think there only are two (maybe three) other McCammon books that I don’t own. I know of the Borderlands Press Little Book entry, and a small collection of Greystone Bay tales (small in size and number of stories).

Books Added: A Quintet of Little Books

April 7, 2024 /

Ah, the Little Book series from Borderlands Press. Somehow I suckered myself into trying to collect these books, before I knew what a daunting task lay ahead. To date—Spring 2024—almost 60 little books have been published in the series; I lack nine of the books, all impossibly priced. Although sold by the publisher for around $30 (and rising, not including what I see as an excessive shipping charge), almost all the books go out of print quickly. A few are available on places like eBay or ABE Books from dealers, usually marked up depending on the name recognition of the author. The hard to find books are priced accordingly, and those Nazgul Nine remain outside my current budget.

The series started back in 2003 with John Maclay’s vampire stories, and continued at irregular intervals with a few books each year (although there seems to have been a gap between 2005 and 2014). The most recent edition is a set of stories by perhaps one of the most famous names in horror fiction. No, not Stephen King—H. P. Lovecraft. This lean-faced misanthrope from Rhode Island is loved by some, hated by others, indebted by almost all modern fantasy and horror writers (whether they admit it or not). Lovecraft’s little book was published in March 2024, edited by S. T. Joshi. It’s part of a series of “past masters of horror” and followed another famous name–Robert E. Howard. In order of when they were acquired, here are the most recent additions to my Little Book collection.

Owen King, A Little Bronze Book of Greebles. #PC of 500. Part of the set of books in Volume 3 / Series III and signed by Owen King. It contains mostly short pieces of commentary, plus a couple of short stories. If it’s limited to 500 copies as my book says, then how come there are PC versions?

Henry S. Whitehead, A Little Orange Book of Voodoo Tales, #99 of 500. Signed by editor, Thomas Tessier, it contains five short stories. Until I bought this book I’d not heard of Whitehead. Past of the Volume 3 / Series IV, also known as the “Past Masters of Horror” grouping, as are the following three books. These books tend to sell out shortly after publication. Several of the past master of horror are unknowns. Getting them back in print, even just a few stories, is a great feat.

Robert E. Howard, A Little Bronze Book of Weird Tales, #28 of 500. Signed by editor, P. Gardner Goldsmith, it contains 11 short stories. Most, if not all, of REH’s stories have been collected elsewhere. I have only a few of Howard’s books, all paperbacks of various hue. He’s a major influence on the field of fantasy, though is known mainly for his Conan character. Died tragically by his own hand at the young age of 30. Might have become a major American writer had he lived. My copy has a sad spine lean, though I bought it directly from the publisher. Already sold out, which is not surprising.

Saki, A Little Red Book of Wit & Shudders, not numbered, but signed by the editor, Stuart Davis Schiff. Supposedly limited to 500 signed copies, but is that really the case? This Saki book doesn’t have any numbering. My Owen King book is marked as PC, aka presentation copy, so it does appear there are more than the advertised 500 printed up and signed. I have seen other copies of this title listed for sales on the second-hand market and advertised as “numbered X of 500,” so did they just print extra copies for the fun of it? I bought this from a dealer, so who knows. Contains 18 short-short stories–the book is only around 150 pages long, so that averages to just over eight pages per story.

H. P. Lovecraft, A Little Silver Book of Supernatural Stories, #290 of 500 copies, and signed by the editor, S. T. Joshi. Contains nine stories, all likely appeared elsewhere many times. But, what’s a Past Masters of Horror series without Lovecraft? There was a time when it was impossible to find any of Lovecraft’s fiction, unless you sought out Arkham House editions. These days Lovecraft is big business, with multiple multi-volume editions of his work churned out almost annually. Perhaps he slipped into the public domain, or maybe he experienced the same posthumous rise to fame as Philip .D. Dick. Although, in terms of the latter, I’m sure the Blade Runner movie started that industry of books and movies.

I guess the next book in the series has to be Clark Ashton Smith. I’m a huge CAS fan, and have read most of his stories, so there won’t be anything new there if that’s the case. Other possible names in this series include Fritz Leiber, maybe Manley Wade Wellman, or Lord Dunsany. Even James Branch Cabell is a candidate. There’s a scarcity of female writers in this series, so that’s an area that might need attention.

As far as the Little Books series goes, as a “haphazard collector” I am resigned to not having the complete series here; I’ll get what I can find, or try to just keep up with the series now.

As a matter of trivial knowledge, there are only 24 unique colors spread among the nearly 60 books. Of these, five colors have four books each, nine have three colors, one with two, and nine again with unique colors. So far no one’s managed to come up with A Little Book of Turquoise Turgid Tales or A Little Book of Pink Phantasies (hello, future editor of George MacDonald stories…). I don’t mean to overly question the editors or publishers, but surely there are other options aside from black, purple, orange, and red?

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