⛰️Climbing Cadillac
Always Check the Return Route
Every episode of Storymaze: writing tips or a work-in-progress; something creative I’m digging; a highlight from my comics-writing credits; + a quote that’s got me thinking — maybe it’ll do the same for you!
Heads up if you’re in the Connecticut area end of July: I will be at Terrificon for Saturday/Sunday only — stop by table K3 to say hi. (I will *not* be wearing a tie.) Check my Instagram and Twitter the week of for “sticker surprises!” (OK, I’ll mostly likely let you guys in on ‘em here, too!)
We had chosen Cadillac Mountain as our first hike for our return visit to Maine's Acadia National Park. OR one of our first hikes. In any case — pretty close to the start, and why go half measures?
This was follow up to our "epic recovery" tour of the year prior. Following my son's horrifying arm injury, we had set out on a long road trip to make up for the trauma and worry and had done a light touch in the park on the loop through Maine. We'd been so taken with it that we decided on an extended follow up the following summer.
We parked on the south side of the mountain, and began a long climb up and over to its peak. The "as the crow flies" map established the distance to be 6 miles or so, promising exciting views and a real sense of accomplishment. There were long stretches of the upward variety, and some hard scrabbles up ridges of rock.
While approachable it wasn't an easy trek. (I've noticed hikers rate most trails one grade lower than they actually are. "Moderate" is more like "Hard." Or could be my self-rating of "Fit" is more like "Pathetic.") In any case it was legit difficult for my wife, who has some balance issues with her legs — getting good purchase on some of the looser rock wasn't always going to be easy.
Even with some metal handholds and spikes coming out of the rock for grips, this wasn't something we'd want to return to. Fortunately our plans were to take the bus down from the peak. That would then swing us back around the loop road that connected so many places throughout the park, bringing us back around to where we'd left our car — on the far side of the mountain, many thousands of feet below.
Along a particularly open stretch we made our way across a long open ridge, green falling off to either side. In the far distance we could see some kind of signal tower, which we were pretty sure marked the peak we were after. But the longer we walked it never seemed to get closer.
Along the impossibly long (and getting longer) gap of that ridge, there suddenly appeared a man dressed not like a hiker — but like some kind of Zen master, draped in loose casual drawstring pants and an open white shirt. He probably had on shoes — but I wouldn't be surprised if he did not. In my mind's eye, there was a mist he emerged from — and which he would probably vanish back into.
We asked Zen, "How much longer?" His bemused response: "To what?" We'd assumed the visitors center at the top would have been the evident, only destination along this way and in this direction. But he clearly had a much more existential, transcendental destination in mind. We moved on, to continue/press forward.
With a great set of accomplishment we scrabbled the last rock, crested the last rise, and settled down a fairly easy dirt path between some scrub pines that meandered down to a small information station and gift shop. But what we were really after were the big exposed sections of rock just past the adjoining parking lot, giving us a 360 view of Bar Harbor, the sky, the mountain around and below. We had become one with nature, and we had done it ourselves. As we took in the great sweep, we chowed down on a lunch of cold cuts and fruit chews and warm water — and lo and behold, they did feel duly accomplished.
Now it was time to get our reward. Where was that promised bus? The shuttle bus service that runs throughout the area runs a route from the nearby town of Bar Harbor, to many high profile spots throughout the park. It's amazingly FREE, sponsored by LL Bean, a conscientious retailer doing their part to keep cars off the road and environment more pristine. And how great was it that it also had a drop off and pick off point high up here on Cadillac Mountain?
Except of course — it did not. We had imagined this run. There was a *paid* bus tour that did a journey up and down the mountain. But it had done its last pick up for the day, and wouldn't be coming back around for lil' ol' misinformed us. So the only way down was the way we had come up: our collective six feet.
Now while that southside climb would be largely DOWNHILL — we knew from recent experience that all that loose stone, scrabble, narrow this-and-tight-that did not bode well for my dear wife's ability to navigate. It had been one thing fresh with a goal in mind. It was another thing now to go through all that again: exhausted from the first part of the climb and feeling mentally worn from the bus mistake and what we had to accomplish in getting back down.
So the north trail it was! It was rated "Easy!" compared to the south — which, according to my adjusted rating system, meant "Moderate!" at best. We'd make it down and then we'd DEFINITELY be able to grab that loop bus and get us back to our car and sanity. The thing was that north trail plus weariness wasn't really working out. The rock was slick, the incline was severe — in some ways it was feeling more uncertain than what we had turned our back on to the south. And perhaps that was to be expected: everything ahead of us was unknown.
The final choice was the road itself, a narrow back and forth of tight switchbacks, designed not for hikers but for the cars looking to make their way to the top. With a 12 year old to look out for we had to stay close to the slippery gravel edge and trudge, trudge, trudge down the long back-and-forth, as cars swooped up and down, appearing suddenly from the tight turns of the switchback either behind us or ahead. Tensions were high but we kept them in check. Or we were simply too tired to get angry with the situation or each other.
That was good because we were able to direct any bottled up rage at the loop bus drivers when we reached the bottom. Yes, they were running down there. Yes, they would have gotten us back to the car. But every one that swung by was stuffed full with the late afternoon hikers and campers and park enthusiasts on their way out of the park and on to whatever the evening had for them.
Finally — finally! — the idea was to call for a car service. In a national park. To get from the north side to the south side of the mountain. When the man from Maine pulled up with a curious look on his face, he listened to our tale of woe with compassion, but an expression that clearly said, "You ain't from around here, are you?" And there was much truth in that.
When our rescuer did deliver us to our car, we had one final request. In our exhaustion — our final wiped-out piled on bone-tired — did he have any idea where we could get something to eat? Because we were well past thinking or planning. "The Chat House" he told us in that Maine accent.
We had no idea what this meant, and were prepared to add "starvation" to the days trials. Then we finally figured it out — and figured out how to get to a seafood restaurant called "The *Chart* House." And lo and behold, they did deem it delicious and good.
Robots, man. They've got it going on.
Even when they're ready to eradicate humanity, as in so many science fiction tales (or Boston Dynamics product marketing plans) — there's just no denying their inherent cool.
So I was predisposed to like "Kill Lock", a comic about a quartet of 'bots trapped in a weird survival pact. What I did not expect was to be so thoroughly entertained and jealous at the neat trick that creator Livio Ramondelli has pulled off in his world — nay, universe — building.
There are no humans in this galaxy spanning tale — but plenty of humanity. While none of the robots have names, per se, they have undeniable identity, both in their unique designs and their inherent character — at turns flawed, dysfunctional, bizarre, even psychopathic. There's the scheming, sarcastic Artisan Class. The tortured, addicted Laborer. The naive wonder of the young Unfinished. And the imperious musings of the mighty Wraith. Each of these "cold" mechanical beings gets its moment of emotional depth, drawing you in to their quest for redemption, salvation, self-interest — but especially survival.
The Kill Lock of the title is a vicious bit of cruelty cooked up by the larger robot society, to absolve themselves of having to take responsibility for the execution of their criminals — or merely undesirables. Each of the robots in a Kill Lock foursome are tied to each other: if one dies, they all die. As they're ostracized outcasts, hunted for parts and sport, the likelihood of death is high.
That's what sparks the narrative, one filled with action, introspection and unexpected camaraderie. (And just a few panels in: laugh out loud humor, usually thanks to a withering observation by the Artisan at the expense of one of the others.) Big picture: the existential dread of being a cog in an unfeeling machine/universe — countered against the the innate desire to find meaning in existence.
Livio's visuals are particularly captivating, touring galactic junkyards and alien taverns, using watercolor tones and gritty detail to shift between eerie beauty and kick-ass action. Tragic, funny, thought-provoking, with a sucker-punch twist or two and an ending that opens up an already diverse universe even wider — Kill Lock was an unexpected find I can not say enough good things about.
Robots. Man oh man!
For reasons I can’t quite fathom — but which I’m certainly grateful for — podcasters Phil Perich and Lilith Hellfire have added a regular program called “The Chichester Chats” to their stable of programs. This is a chance to grill me on various issues and runs from my prior work — and I’ve found it interesting to discover something new in stories I had not returned to in a long while. (Or in some cases had totally dismissed!)
In their (my?) most recent show, we got into my short but really exciting run on Hardware. I’m reminded now how much I enjoyed this book! I will probably dive a bit deeper on those issues here, in time. But for the moment, enjoy the listen here.
“Make better decisions and fill your products with ‘Give a damn!’.”
— John Carmack
Amazing Times
Thanks for taking a break from the dark web to check out this share-out of projects I’m working on, plus things that have me jazzed. I’m D.G. Chichester. If that looks pretentious, feel free to just call me “Dan”, and have a go at the last name as Chai (like the tea) Chester (like it looks).
I earned my word-cred writing comic book titles like Daredevil, Terror Inc., Nick Fury Agent of SHIELD and Clive Barker’s Hellraiser, along with all manner of digital widgets in the world wide web of advertising. I keep my storytelling cred by trying new things — this is one, with more on the way. I like weird tales, so if things here bend that way — now you know why!
Folks seem to like the comic book adventures I’ve written, so if you haven’t checked one out — please do. Many are now available in fab collected editions.
For the lonely moments between newsletters…
@dgchichester — 280 characters from the Twitterverse
@dgchichester — images via Instagramland