Published August 6, 2025 03:30PM
Destinations & Things To Do
There’s a Point Where It Tips, There’s a Point Where It Breaks…

Honestly, for a donation-based hostel where the hostel owners don’t have any other significant/obvious forms of income, the beds at the Yellow Deli Hiker Hostel were fantastic. It’s clearly a labour of love. But yes, there are many things I don’t agree with everything they believe in. I do still highly recommend people to stay though, since it’s kind of an “iconic” ish experience.
I somehow was the first to wake up in our bunkroom, which was wild. But, I still feel drained, even after yesterday’s Zero. In fact, I just feel drained in general. After getting past Killington, and seeing the “500 miles to Katahdin” sign… that was the first time I’ve really wanted this to be over. I’m sure the constant malnourishment and low energy doesn’t help. It’s sad that my body’s failing me. It’s funny how there’s a parabola between “got my trail legs,” and “my legs are strong but my body is dying.”
All that to say that leaving the hostel this morning was a difficult ask. I went down for their breakfast — cottage cheese, eggs, and cheese on rice. I don’t like cottage cheese, so I gave it away, but downed the rest. They also made some great coffee. At the table, I re-met Bridget, who was an LT thru-hiker I met on her first night on trail, and just sat around and listened to what others were planning to do today. Peanut and Tode were taking a zero at the deli, and Plinko/Woodworm were going to start going up the Long Trail instead of along the AT. I didn’t really want to Zero in Rutland, so I decided to get a move on.
But, one order of business. For the trail, I’ve been using the Shokz OpenFit 2 headphones, which have been great. I used them constantly for running, and I love how I can hear my surroundings while they’re still on. Just one problem… they use a proprietary charging case. And one of the pins in the case is recessed permanently, which means that it’s been harder and harder to get my headphones to charge. Finally, though, it seems like the case has finally breathed its last breath. So I went to Walmart in hopes of finding a new pair. Unfortunately they were out of the model I had, but they had the old OpenFit Air, so I just went with those. I can already foresee issues with the touch controls being hit accidentally by the bug net, but what’re you to do when your technology fails you?
Submitted a warranty claim, and got a sandwich from the PriceChopper nearby, before heading back to the hostel. I missed the 9:15 bus out… so I took my time talking to Plinko and Wormwood a bit more, picking their minds about things. Mostly Plinko. He was such a help at Trail Days that I couldn’t help but almost feel as if he’s partially a mentor. Asked him about his food strategies, his hiking strategies, mentalities, all that good stuff.
All this thinking aside, I then went off to catch… The Bus! The Yellow Deli Hiker Hostel doesn’t bother providing shuttles, since Vermont provides a very cheap bus that goes from the Inn At Long Trail (where I got off with my friends two days ago) straight to a bus stop just a block over from the hostel. I got on, and the driver and I struck up a conversation about how my hike is going. And, this dear reader, is where I have to admit something.
I’m pretty burnt out with the trail. Maybe extremely burnt out of the trail. I didn’t expect the trail to “change me” or anything, but I did at least hope that I’d be having a grand old time all the way through. And I really was!… until the Mid-Atlantic. And while New England’s provided a small boost, there’s still the really hot conditions and the bugs to deal with. And then there’s the deal with the end date. I’m actually ahead of schedule now, even with the Whites standing scarily in the distance. So, I know that I can just take it easy, right? The problem is… I can’t even muster the energy to sleep outdoors anymore. The great outdoors sometimes feels like a coffin of bugs, rain, and heat, and something in me wants nothing more than a month where I can just sit inside and watch a movie, or something. But that’s me just wanting another extreme.
I think the best thing I can do is to try to take some good nearos or zeroes and then hike on in better conditions. I know my thoughts on this change constantly. There are days where I’m zooming along (usually when there’s good coffee on trail…), and there’re days when I can’t even get myself to walk another step (like today). I should throw this end date out the window… and just let the trail end when it ends. Trying to force something isn’t helping. If I get to Shaw’s, and I’m one day off my goal, sure, I’ll take an extra Zero or something. But there’s no use thinking about all of this when I still have the hardest 450 miles left to go. (by the way, since this was written about three weeks ago… I might have different opinions by now and better strategies to manage the burnout 😉 )
I got dropped off at the Inn At Long Trail, taking a look around and remembering how it felt when my friends were around. Then, I got going. Up, and up, and up… and then down and down. I ran back into Morgan, a MA/VT section hiker who’s hiking with her dog! I’m unsure if I wrote about the first encounter with her, but it was at the Rock Pond Shelter on the night before Killington. She’d gotten a bit turned around with some blowdowns and inconsistent blazing, so I helped her find her way, and we hiked together for about an hour. It was nice to converse… and this is where I realized something else. Partially why I’m so out of it is probably because I haven’t found my “tribe” yet. Of all the long trails, the AT is the one of tramilies, but I haven’t been able to find one that matches both my pace, and are also good matches for me as people. There’ve been brief moments, but then either I burn out and they want to get ahead, or I have a spurt of energy and want to hike, and they fall behind. For a social trail… it’s been a lonely walk.
I know the real bubble’s about three weeks behind me, and there’s a very small mini-bubble about a week behind me. And given how far my end date is, I could wait a week. But sitting around for a week now will probably bring that other feeling back. The feeling that I’m not going to make it “on time,” whatever on time really means. This is all so funny. I shouldn’t be worried about any of this stuff. The trail’s so simple. Just walk forward. But I’m me. This was something I was supposed to work on. *sigh*.
Morgan and I parted at Gifford Woods State Park, where she was going to triple Zero. She’d actually made it further than her planned hike, and needed to kill some time before her ride got her at Norwich, so she was going to spend some R&R here, watch some movies, go into town on the bus. That sounds so nice…
I’m speeding ahead a bit though, because I want to get to the Whites by the weekend. While I don’t think anyone necessarily is waiting on me there for anything important, it’s still a close enough destination to Boston that there’s a chance something could magically happen this weekend if the time comes. Plus, being ahead of the mini-bubble, or other hikers, makes it more likely that I get a Work For Stay. Yes, even with all this complaining about it being a lonely trail… there are still some highlights to it. Campsite selection being one of them. So many marbles to roll in the head… (if you can’t tell, this has been on my mind for a long time).
Whew, we’re already at 1300 words for this blog post… what a sufferfest! Sorry about that, but I figured it’s better to let people in to my true state of mind rather than pretend everything on trail is hunky dory.
Afterwards, I started struggling with hiking through the day. The humidity was through the ROOF it felt like I was hiking through soup! Skirted by the lovely Kent Pond, and then back up, up, and up. This is where I ran into some more issues… I ran out of water. I thought there’d be a source due to some FarOut comments and recent rains… but it was bone dry. So my normal caffeine shot that I have around 2 PM wasn’t there. That probably also contributed to the sadder feelings that I normally can dodge.
Alas… onwards! I took frequent breaks to not let my heart rate get too high in the heat, but by the time I reached Stony Brook Shelter, I was beat. Drank as much water as could fit in my belly, and then grabbed more for the road. I probably overloaded on water given that there are reliable sources on the road, but today it didn’t matter. I just wanted to get any of it I could into my system.
The rest of the day kind of became a monotonous slog/blur. I was getting attacked by bugs at every angle. I was going through some rough terrain, just wondering when it was all going to end. Grabbed some water for the rest of my day, but what should’ve been a 10 minute stop turned into 30 as I just couldn’t will myself to move anymore. Turns out, even though I did a measly 15 miles today, I still almost did 5k in vert. I didn’t even plan for this in advance… so it kind of kicked me in the butt. That, and I’ve been struggling to eat.
I know I’ve been going through ketosis recently. My clothes all smell sour. But no matter what, I just can’t get enough calories in. Loads of chips, freeze dried meals, ramen, tuna packets, nuts and nuts and nuts. None of it feels good going down. And yet I can still feel myself getting weaker every day. I know there’s no real way to “lose” in a thru-hike, and yet it feels like I’m losing.
So, I ended the day at the unofficial Lookout “Shelter,” which is a privately owned cabin set aside for hikers. Inside, I ran back into Marky-Mark, who was camping at Greenwall the day I was there. Huh, looks like everyone’s surpassed me from before. I guess that means I’m going average pace now. I climbed to the top to get some spectacular views while eating dinner, but I wasn’t able to enjoy it for long… even about 30 feet up, the bugs were still vicious! So I did my best and went to bed.
I just… wasn’t feeling it today. It’s hot again. Maybe I should wait it out. I think I’ll throw this birthday plan in the drain, and figure out some other way to spend it. Who even knows anymore?
(title lyrics from: Time to Say Goodbye, Jeff Williams and Casey Lee Williams)
Destinations & Things To Do
Indulge in Singapore’s Newest Attractions and Best Hidden Gems Over a 72-Hour Stay at The Capitol Hotel Kempinski Singapore

MY THREE-DAY ESCAPE TO The Capitol Kempinski Hotel Singapore was nothing short of indulgent. Nestled in the heart of Singapore’s civic and cultural district, this heritage property offered the ideal blend of historical grandeur and modern luxury I’d been craving.
Finding Sanctuary in The Heritage Suite
Checking into the 137sqm Heritage Suite felt like stepping into the Victorian era. Inside the historic Stamford House, this exclusive accommodation immediately put me at ease with neutral tones that evoked warmth and carefully curated antiques that paired perfectly with the building’s elegance. Custom-made furnishings blended into the decor, creating an atmosphere of refined sophistication that made me feel truly pampered.
The bathroom was a wonderful space for relaxing. A generously-sized escape featuring a free-standing deep-soaking bathtub was where I spent evening hours unwinding. The walk-in closet, separate rainfall shower with steam and private powder room added more luxury to the stay. The hotel’s suite privileges also made me feel well taken care of, from the 24-hour flexibility to the bubbly buffet breakfast at 15 Stamford and evening cocktails at the Executive Lounge from 6 to 8 pm each evening.
Singapore’s Cultural Heart
One experience I’ll never forget was exploring Singapore in a vintage Vespa sidecar. Racing through the historic streets with the wind in my hair, I felt connected to the city’s pulse in a way that most tours can’t match.
The National Gallery is just a stone’s throw from the hotel and was a wonderful place to spend an afternoon losing myself among the artworks. The gallery is also home to Violet Oon, where I dined on authentic Peranakan dishes that delighted me with their unexpected, complex flavours. Each recipe told a story of Singapore’s multicultural heritage, perfectly complementing my cultural journey.
The hotel offers a private guided Heritage Tour led by the hotel’s Heritage Curator. It’s a fascinating journey into the iconic history of Stamford House, Capitol Building, and Capitol Theatre — where Charlie Chaplin and Ava Gardner graced the stage. Understanding that I was sleeping within walls that witnessed nearly a century of Singapore’s evolution added texture and depth to my experience and made every moment feel special.
Culinary and Wellness Indulgences
Staying in a storied heritage hotel, it seemed right to treat myself to Heritage Afternoon Tea and I heartily recommend it. Available daily in the Lobby Lounge, at 12:30 or 3 pm, I chose the earlier seating to savour my cultural voyage through time. I enjoyed three courses that represented a selection of some of the nation’s iconic dishes, interpreted with playful textures, flavours and presentations that celebrated Singapore in the most satisfying way.
If you’re looking for a refreshing drink that comes with an intriguing narrative, try the Plantation 1840 at The Bar at 15 Stamford. As I sipped it, I learned the story of Joseph Balestier, the first US Consul to Singapore, and his wife, Maria Revere, who was the daughter of American Civil War midnight rider, Paul Revere. The couple once lived on the site where the Capitol Building stands today.
The couple’s legacy lives on through The Bar’s bell-ringing ritual. Inspired by the Revere Bell displayed at the National Museum of Singapore — the only Revere Bell outside the US — the ringing of the bell is a sound I won’t forget.
The spa’s Singapore Massage was the perfect finale to a day when I’d done hours of walking. This unique treatment combined Chinese Tuina techniques to ease muscle tension and promote qi circulation, Malay abdominal massage to remove “angin” (wind) and improve circulation, and Indian foot massage with Kansu bowl, which honours Ayurvedic traditions. The multicultural therapy left me relaxed and invigorated.
Neighbourhood Steeped in Culture
The hotel’s location in Singapore’s cultural district proved ideal for exploration. Historic architecture surrounded me at every turn, while world-class museums, galleries and cultural institutions were within easy walking distance. The blend of colonial grandeur and modern innovation in the neighbourhood perfected my visit.
Those 72 hours at The Capitol Hotel Kempinski weren’t just a hotel stay — they were a trip into Singapore’s soul, delivered with unparalleled luxury.
For more information, please visit www.kempinski.com/en/singapore
Article Sponsored by The Capitol Kempinski Hotel Singapore.
Images courtesy of The Capitol Kempinski Hotel Singapore.
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Destinations & Things To Do
The National Park Service is Reinstalling A Statue of This Confederate General

The NPS says that refurbishing and reinstalling the toppled statue “aligns with federal responsibilities under historic preservation law”
(Photo: ERIC BARADAT/AFP via Getty Images)
The National Park Service will restore and install the bronze statue of a Confederate general in Washington D.C. five years after it was torn down during the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests.
According to a news release from the agency, reinstalling the statue of Albert Pike, a brigadier general in the Confederate Army during the U.S. Civil War, “aligns with federal responsibilities under historic preservation law, as well as recent executive orders to beautify the nation’s capital and re-instate pre-existing statues.”
The NPS statement, issued on Monday, August 4, says that the statue, which was originally installed in 1901, a decade after Pike’s death, is intended to honor his leadership in the order of Freemasons, an exclusive and secretive fraternity. The statue honors his “32 years as Sovereign Grand Commander of the Ancient Rite of Scottish Freemasonry,” the release reads.
The news release does not mention Pike’s military service with the Confederate States of America during the U.S. Civil War.
Prior to its destruction in 2020, Pike’s statue was the only statue of a Confederate officer in the U.S. capitol, outside of museums. However, the statue, which was erected by Freemasons, did not explicitly mention Pike’s military service, and he was not depicted in uniform. An inscription on the plinth read: Author, Poet, Scholar, Soldier, Jurist Orator, Philanthropist, Philosopher.
According to The New York Times, Pike served as a diplomat to Native American tribes that the Confederacy hoped to enlist to fight the Union, and only commanded his troops in a single engagement, the Battle of Pea Ridge, which saw his unit routed. Pike was later charged by his commanding officers with insubordination and treason, and escaped punishment by resigning his command.
In the years following the war, Pike also had ties to the Klu Klux Klan, however critics have disputed that he was a member of the racist organization. A biography entitled, A Life of Albert Pike (1997), says Pike once declared that “the white race, and that race alone, shall govern this country.”
Though it stood for over a hundred years in Washington D.C.’s Judiciary Square neighborhood, just a few blocks from the National Mall, Albert Pike’s statue sparked controversy. Union Army veterans petitioned the government to block the statue’s installment when it was first approved in 1898. The D.C. Council first began petitioning the federal government to remove the statue in 1992, and renewed said petition as recently as 2017.
Congressional delegate Eleanor Holmes Norton, who represents the District of Columbia in the House of Representatives, introduced a bill to remove the statue in 2019, but it was destroyed before the bill passed. (Norton’s legislation was later passed by the House Committee on Natural Resources.)
In a press release on August 4, Norton decried the decision to restore and reinstall the statue, calling it, “as odd and indefensible as it is morally objectionable.” She said she planned to reintroduce her bill to have the statue removed permanently.
“Pike served dishonorably,” Norton said. “He took up arms against the United States, misappropriated funds, and was ultimately captured and imprisoned by his own troops. He resigned in disgrace after committing a war crime and dishonoring even his own Confederate military service. Even those who want Confederate statues to remain standing would have to justify awarding Pike any honor, considering his history.” (Her reference to a “war crime” refers to the actions of Cherokee under Pike’s command at the Battle of Pea Ridge. There were reports of the Cherkoee scalping federal dead.)
In its announcement of the statue’s restoration, the NPS specifically cited two of President Trump’s executive orders: “Making the District of Columbia Safe and Beautiful” and “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History.” The latter executive order has been used as justification for other major changes in national parks across the country, including signs asking visitors to report negative information about past or living Americans.
The agency plans to have Albert Pike’s statue fully restored and installed in October.
Destinations & Things To Do
Is Whole-Body Cryotherapy the New Ice Bath? I Tried It to Find Out.

Dogsledding taught me how to endure the cold—but cryotherapy felt like a different beast. Here’s how my body reacted to the rising health trend.
(Photo: Anna Matviienko/Getty, Abigail Wise)
Published August 6, 2025 02:26PM
I went to CryoEffect, a self-described “Cold Spa” in the Chicago suburbs, in the middle of the weekday, when I was told it would be pretty empty. The only customer was a guy in the back who had just gotten out of a full-body cryotherapy treatment—basically, three minutes naked in a -200 degrees Fahrenheit freezer—and was reclining in compression boots that went all the way up his legs. He was coming to CryoEffect daily as part of a fitness project, because, as an airplane salesman, he’d made a bet with a client that he could lose 30 pounds in 30 days. If he won, his client would pay him $50,000.
“What if you lose the bet?” I said.
“He’s not going to lose the bet,” said Miriam, the Cold Spa’s owner. She had a great smile and curly hair, and her wrists were adorned with crystal bracelets, which she made herself and sold at a table by the door. Each crystal helped with different things, like creativity and self-love. But most customers just bought them based on which colors they liked best.
The guy beamed. He was confident about the bet. “In two and a half weeks, I’ve already lost 27 pounds.”
“You should donate the money to the owner of CryoEffect,” said Miriam.
Did he feel, I asked, like time in the freezer was helping his goal?
“For sure,” he said. “You come out, and it’s almost like you’re crafted. Like, you’re shaped.” He sort of pawed the air, like he was patting a Greek statue. “Everything is tighter. It’s amazing! And my sinuses are better, too.”
Well, who doesn’t want to be crafted like a statue? That sounded pretty good to me, especially since I’d come to try out full-body cryotherapy myself. My reasons were simpler: I’m a long-distance dogsledder, a lover of deep cold, and I’ve spent a lot of time winter camping in 30 or 40 below zero—so I was curious about how the Cryo experience would compare. Temperatures in the walk-in freezer got down to—apparently—-260 degrees Fahrenheit, but some users described the sensation as that of standing next to a fridge with an open door. These things are not the same. How cold would it really feel? And would it scratch that cold-weather itch, even in summer? I felt uniquely qualified to evaluate.
Plus, the freezer therapy came with a bunch of supposed benefits—some of them even backed by science, like improved mood and less muscle soreness after workouts. And dozens of cryotherapy services have popped up in the Chicago area alone. Proponents argue that the cold decreases inflammation—picture an ice pack on an injury, but for your whole body—and causes your blood to redirect to your core, so that when it comes back to your extremities, it’s carrying extra nutrients and oxygen.
Do whole-body cryo fans care about the FDA’s statements that “there is very little evidence about its safety or effectiveness”? Not particularly. Search #cryotherapy on any socials, and you’ll find countless posts about pain relief, athletic performance, and improved energy. I gotta say, I believe it: regardless of direct physical effects, the intensity of three minutes in a deep freezer would make for a hell of a placebo.
Another man walked into the spa—clearly a regular, because he wasted no time slipping behind a curtain and changing into the spa-issued bathrobe, socks, and slippers before stepping into the cryo chamber, which looked like a cross between an upright fridge and a coffin. Lights flashed; white steam poured over the top. He spent the entirety of his three-minute treatment chatting with Miriam about his daughter’s upcoming wedding, even when a deafening fire alarm went off, which Miriam shouted was a false alarm from the office next door. I covered my ears; he ignored it. He seemed to be a superhero of ignoring sensory input. When his time was up, he stepped out of the tank like it was nothing.
Now it was my turn.
The inside of the freezer-coffin was lined with some sort of black quilted poly that was coated in frost. I opened the door and stepped onto a carpeted platform, which rose up until my head poked out an opening at the top. I wore a bathrobe over my underwear, but now that I was fully enclosed, I took off the robe and handed it to Miriam; no one could see my body, but I felt very exposed. The air already felt frigid. How much colder would it get? I started to get nervous.
A screen at the top of the tank read -97 degrees Fahrenheit, with 2 minutes and 54 seconds left. Within two seconds, temps dropped another 20 degrees. It felt like someone was pressing solid ice cubes to every inch of my skin. I had the urge to crouch down and make a ball, wrapping my arms around my legs to preserve heat, but I was afraid to bend at all and brush the frosty lining of the tank.
With a strong hissing sound, mist started to pour out around me, rising up to my neck. The temp dropped to -165.7 degrees Fahrenheit, which did not feel at all like standing in the open door to a refrigerator. It felt like I was standing in an oddly windless tundra—naked. I suppose, if I hadn’t seen the thermometer, I would have estimated the temperature to be around -40 degrees Fahrenheit, which is still very chilly to be naked. I guess that’s what they call a dry cold.
“Your skin receptors are talking to your brain,” Miriam said calmly, outside the coffin, as if those words meant anything at all. “Your blood is rushing to your core to protect your vital organs. When you step out of your three minutes of torture, your blood will rush back where it belongs and fight inflammation along the way.” She started listing the conditions this would help: brain fog, stress, depression, anxiety, acne, rosacea, scarring… (Conversely, the FDA warns of asphyxiation, frostbite, eye injury, and burns.)
It was hard to focus on what she was saying, which was surely the point; she was well-practiced in distracting people from the pain of cold. Still, the sensation of cold won over. It felt like thick needles were stabbing slowly into my shins and arms.
“You’ll be amazed how well you sleep tonight,” said Miriam cheerfully.
With 53 seconds to go, I started laughing from the pain. Miriam recommended that I put my arms up above the tank. “That leaves the girls exposed,” she warned a few seconds too late. My forearms were covered with the biggest goosebumps I’d ever seen.
With ten seconds to go, she traded me the mittens for my room-temperature bathrobe, which felt unbelievably toasty, like it had been warming for hours in the hot sun.
Normally it takes me a long time to warm up after being in deep cold—a half-day inside, at least, for the bone-chill to go away. I can mush in the morning, sit by a fire all afternoon, and still want a hot bath to warm up fully for bed. But within seconds of stepping out of the freezer-coffin, I felt fine again, except that my legs were as numb to touch as if they’d been novocained. It was kind of fun to poke them. My clothes, when I put them on, felt balmy. I wanted to skip around. I stepped back onto the street and everything seemed brighter. Almost sparkling. I had survived!
Apart from a brief euphoria, I noticed no other effects of the treatment, though to be fair, most advocates of cryotherapy recommend a series of sessions in order to get the benefits. But it certainly gave me a feeling of accomplishment far beyond what I’d normally get from three relatively passive minutes of my day. Would I do it again? Sure—but I’m more likely to DIY it by stepping outside in pajamas on a winter morning before I drink a cup of coffee, or running out of a sauna and into a snowbank for fun. If I’m a believer in cryotherapy, it’s because I am, above all, a believer in the power of cold—to invigorate, to calm, and to cast the world in beauty that wouldn’t be quite as visible at other times. Sometimes winter really can cure what ails you—and if a freezer-coffin can help me glimpse that on a summer day, consider me sold.
Blair Braverman is a columnist and contributing editor for Outside, a long-distance dogsledder, and author, most recently, of Small Game and Dogs on the Trail.
She’s completed some of the toughest dogsled races in the world, including the Iditarod, the Kobuk 440, and the Canadian Challenge, and co-runs the dog team BraverMountain Mushing with her husband, Quince Mountain, in northern Wisconsin. They share the team’s many adventures on Patreon.
Blair’s a contributor to The New York Times, Vogue, Esquire, This American Life, and elsewhere. She recently hosted the BBC Radio 4 show Animal and is survival correspondent for the podcast You’re Wrong About. She’s spoken about resilience in the wilderness for companies including Microsoft and Google.
Her favorite pieces she’s written for Outside are about competing on the Discovery show Naked and Afraid, being a woman alone in the woods, learning to write, and mischievous sled dog Blowhole.
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