The mountains call, and I must go.

The mountains still call

42°, calm, clear. Back up to the divide today. There is a magnetism up there right now that's calling. That and snow. Save a few returning hikers near the bottom as I started off, nobody was on this 10 kilometer round trip route except for me and the dogs, a few pica, a ptarmigan, blue shaded alpine birds, marmots and elk in the forests below. Of course, it's hardly devoid of "stuff." From snow dusted cliff faces, to tiny mountain lakes, to the tundra shrubbery, to rocks and snow, to red sunset skies, to a chill breeze blowing in from the Pacific, across the Sierras, through the red rocked deserts, between mountain canyon to this spot, the spine of the continent...well, it's all someone could ask for on a Thursday evening.

A small guilty pleasure at the top. Since there didn't appear to be another human anywhere, sight lines were phenomenal, and the area seemed devoid of little critters, I let the pups off the leash for a bit on the divide to play and work on our training calls. They sprinted after one another, crossing from the Pacific drainage to the Atlantic, over and over, tackling each other in the snow mounds. They looked very happy, and it's hard not to be happy when the pack is together (minus a few key members of course!) and you are above timberline in the first accumulated snow of the season.

Am I ready for fall?! Do black bears eat garbage in Aspen?!

44°, full moon through whispy clouds, westerly breeze. A good few days in the neighborhood. Yesterday woke up to sub-freezing temperatures and white mountains to the west. Since school requires that I actually teach in the mornings, (believe me, when I open my school you can be damned sure our mandatory 3-4 hours of physical activity – hiking, biking, skiing, etc. – will take place in the morning before class begins, not visa versa) I had to forego the natural urge to head up immediately, and instead plan a trek up there after school. Basically, to check out the snow.

One nice thing about hiking on Tuesday evenings is that nobody is out. Parking lots that at 11 am on a Saturday are spilling over are domains of solitude. My company on this hike - Zuma and Tiki - both of whom probably love snow and winter even more than me. The pace wasn't the briskest ever, thanks to lunges I did the night before (and the requisite soreness) but once I got above tree line at 11,000 feet things picked up considerably. And yes, there is snow. Lots of it too, drifted in places. The hard, windblown stuff, starting to fill in the areas between the scree and moss. The dogs were in heaven, diving into the snow, rolling in it, sliding along. Went to the Continental Divide, tossed on some needed layers, a ski cap and my nordic ski gloves, and ran down the mountain, pups in tow, as the sun set and the chill wind blew from the west. Not a bad way to spend 2.5 hours after work. I think these might have to become a habit. Set the bike aside, grab the light hikers and head above timberline.

Speaking of the bike, today I went for my first real ride since Soggy Bottom. The knee steadily improved last week, and by Sunday felt normal. Monday was a two hour hike with the kids plus lifting legs, yesterday up to the divide, so I was thrilled when I had no pain and more importantly zero swelling. Today, decided to ride, with a little climbing tossed in for good measure. Good results. No pain again and it doesn't feel like swelling is going to happen. So I'm back in the game so to speak. A smidge of fitness lost, but it actually felt good to hit the little pain meter. It comes back quick.

There was a moment in the Soggy Bottom where I definitely considered dropping out, because I knew I would miss some riding by pushing through. And, basically, I missed three weeks. A fair trade. The things I saw and felt in Soggy, good and bad, will stick with me for awhile. Not to say 15-plus rides up and over the mountain during prime autumn season isn't valuable to me...it certainly is, but it's a trade I'll take this go around.

To me, it's fairly clear why I had the knee problem. For the past two years I've foregone weight training in favor of always riding or always skiing. Weight lifting is not always the most fun thing in the world, but it definitely makes you stronger and helps prevent injuries like the one I had. So I'm back in the gym this fall, with renewed vigor, building up strength, learning from mistakes and trying to prevent them from happening again.

Pain free, snow up high, stellar leaves, hiking, mountain biking and ski training. Heck, the Red Sox are even winning again. And the flow begins.

An autumnal chill to the start of autumn

33°, flurries and calm. A foggy, cold, sleety day in the hills. I suspect we'll wake up tomorrow to white peaks, maybe even a little white down here too at 8,700 feet. A good day in the hills. Knee feels almost normal again...the rest has paid off. A ride tomorrow to see exactly where we are at with it.

A land of orange

48°, clear and calm. Spencer is turning orange (or at least a deeper shade of yellow).

A lament

47°, clear and calm. Last night I woke up at 4 am to let the dogs out and saw Orion for the first time since April. The winter constellation returns. Things sure are beautiful right now, the leaves are ramping up quickly, patch works of yellow and orange splattered onto a red/green canvas with a sky so blue it's painful. The past few mornings, there has been fresh snow on the high peaks, and I've even noticed more defined patched of white way up on the divide, basically the early beginnings of the massive winter cornices.

I got on the bike today for the first time in a week after a forced rest. A very mellow ride with the kids. I'm trying to be as smart with this injury as possible, yet still maintain some assemblage of sanity. In the big scheme of things it doesn't matter, but it's been less than ideal from a personal standpoint. Anyone who rides a lot probably could guess that an extended absence off the bike is never much fun. Actually, if it was January and I could nordic ski everyday, and get that much needed endorphin high, I wouldn't give a rat's ass, but that's not the case. Roller skiing simply doesn't compare...it's done on a paved road and the woods are so beautiful right now. Hiking is awesome, but I'm just not quite as efficient going out for a hike as I am for a ride. It seems to be more of a production for some reason. I need to rectify that, because I'm missing out.

I guess I'm on a little ebb right now. I feel all-consumed by planning lessons, like there is nothing else really happening of significance in my life. It's not really any worse than before, but without the ride/ski escape, it seems like it. To top it off (AND THIS REALLY IS A BIG IMPORTANT PROBLEM THAT I HAVE CONTROL OVER), the Red Sox are in the midst of a 1978-ish tailspin that's frustrating as shit. But, in life, there are downs, there are ups, and the key is to weather the storms because better times are ahead. That's always held true for me, and it will now too. More than money, more than stability, give me a healthy body.

Today's spin was nice. Saw King Nimby out there briefly, always a treat. I feel like I've lost touch with the crew a bit as the rushing current of school seems to allow no time to hop off and breathe. To make things even better, I had no knee pain today. That's a good sign. First time for that since Soggy Bottom. I'm not healed yet...it still feels a little bit off...but things are improving. I've been diligently lifting weights to strengthen the area, and may have found a new culprit. My cycling shoes, a mid-range pair of Adidas', might not be the optimal tool for 100 mile rides. I got them because they are soft for hiking, but I noticed that my legs sort of buckle in with them since they offer little arch support, which could explain meniscus pain. So this evening I put in a pair of solid foot beds from my NOLS hiking boots, with the hope that this will remedy the cause of the injury in the first place. Four to five days more off the bike and then I hope to begin a moderate riding schedule that will have me ready to roll come October, the best month of the year.

Again, in the big scheme of things, none of this matters, but I felt a bit of a need for an outlet. And since this is basically my journal, albeit a public one, well, here it is.

Rolling through dusk

51°, big clouds on the divide, calm. An evening roller ski down Happy Valley Road. Cool air drives in and out of the lungs, arms and stomach working hard on a double pole workout. Putting in work now so when the season of white smoke comes, I'll hopefully be strong and fast. Plenty of inspiration to be found, in the form of dusk stormy skies over the mountains, pockets of yellow in the aspen nooks of the undulating topography and Imogen Heap's soulful electronic groove stirring through the headphones.

A jaunt for three up to the windy divide

47°, clear and calm. Suz was feeling a bit under the weather today, so I went on a solo sort-of-speed hike up to the divide today with the pups. It's certainly autumn up there. Chilly on top, with gusty winds around 50 mph...ski cap, wooly and gloves weather for sure. The tundra is changing color, from brown to almost red. Soon it will be white.

Tired week

44°, cloudy and calm. A very busy week is coming to an end, and I'm glad for that. Yesterday, took the kids on a hike to a top of a mountain with a nice view, and I ended up getting lost on the way back down. Rather funny since I was the only one who got lost and I was also the only one who had ever been to this spot before. That's how tired I have been this week...barely hanging on, obviously unable to discern one social trail from another. Did get out for a pretty good roller ski this evening. Pavement skiing isn't nearly as fun as riding bikes in the woods, but, when you are hurt, you have to do what you can do. Just working on balance at this point in time, keeping it pretty slow. When I got back, pulled out a pair of skis and just day dreamed a little. Who knows, maybe this is a blessing in disguise. Hiking, lots of roller skiing and lifting is probably a better way to prep for nordic than just riding my single everywhere. Just not as fun! Or maybe it is, and I just have not gotten creative enough with my adventures using these tools yet.

I hate to admit it, but this autumn is late in its arrival. Either that or last year was early. Compare entries from this time last year to 2007. Snow should be right around the corner up on Caribou, but who knows? Seems like we're still in a sort of bizarre, tropical pattern. Cooler, just because there is three hours less of daylight and it's dropping by the minute, but I kind of want real deal cold! Oh well...maybe the seasons know I'm still a week or two away from being able to ride, and it's holding off on the colors. Payback for all that trash pick-up this summer?

Grommet Comments

50°, clear and calm. Overheard on the trail today by a couple 11 year olds...

"Look at all these Aspen trees!"

"I know this place is like magic!"

"All those people who live in the city don't know what they are missing."

Indeed, indeed. You don't need to be old to be wise.

First freeze of the year

43, clear and calm. Knee still hurts biking, feels absolutely fine doing everything else. Totally stable, no clicking, no weird sounds. Doesn't hurt when pressure is applied, only when spinning. Bizarre. In the scheme of the world's problem, this is a minor one to have, and I figure it's a good natural signal to take a break from biking and do something different. Ah races! They get in the way of riding! I would like to be able to commute to and from work, but alas, that hurts more than anything. The easy spin thing again. I guess I should just toss a 63x12 on there and go for it! Today, lifted and roller skied, visions of large puffy flakes and an endless ski track through a forest meadow dancing through my head. Neat low angle light tonight, sort of like the Pacific coast in the evening, red, glowing. Below freezing this morning, the first hard frost/freeze of the season. Hands and arms numbed from the roll down the hill, a good feeling of fall.

Sasha

41°, clear and calm. I suspect tonight will be the coldest night of the year thus far, with a light freeze. The cold front has moved in, and the skies are clear ensuring that temperatures will drop. Went on a nice hike with the Outdoor Club up the Chittenden Mountain trail. I forgot how bleeping steep this trail is right off the bat! Even the kids, who usually seem to have an endless reserve of energy, were huffing and puffing a bit. The trail climbed to an expansive open valley, featuring low angle light and a crisp breeze off the divide.

I figured I'd use this entry to write a few words about our problem dog, Sasha (brown dog in the front of this photo). The only way you'd ever meet Sasha is if you happened to be hiking on our local hike at ass-crack-o-dawn, before sunrise when the air is chilled and other hikers are basically zero. Sasha is not a friend to other dogs and humans, as long as she is in Happy Valley. In fact, you could argue she's the pissed-off mother ready to defend us (the pack) from any intruders, legit or not. An admirable trait, but obviously a less than ideal one at noon on a busy Indian Freaks trail. So with Sasha, we adjust and don't go on these trails.

The funny this is, away from Happy Valley, Sasha is a quivering scaredy-cat. When she gets in the car she literally starts shaking uncontrollably. Away from her home base, she doesn't bark at all, instead slinking around with her head down and her tail between her legs.

At home, Sasha is the mother dog to the pack. She barks when the others (usually the pups) act up and even barks when Suz and I mock fight, saying "stop it!" Her dedication is to the pack, and anything that disrupts balance gets chastised. And there are a lot of things that disrupt balance in her world. Light reflections for example. Sasha is absolutely paranoid of light reflections on the wall, and barks like a crazed maniac at them. She cowers in thunder and lightning. And, oddly enough, she really hates going outside, except for when we are ALL going for a hike, in which case she is as enthusiastic as any of them, if not moreso.

Sasha has required a lifestyle change. Generally speaking, we don't invite folks to our house, as this would require locking Sasha in the car or going through a rather elaborate introduction process involving dog biscuits, leather gloves and other devices. We don't hike her midday, or when a lot of other dogs might be out there.

Why do we do it? Because even with all of her faults she is incredibly dedicated to us. She looks up to us with the utmost trust (obviously she didn't get much of when we picked her up from the Longmont Humane Society eight years ago 24 hours from being euthanized) and she chose us to care for her. And that's what pet ownership is really. It's not about having the perfect animal, or the best looking one (Sasha is mutt). It's about rewarding that dedication they show to us by not betraying them when things look a little shaky.

We've had Sasha for eight years, and there have been moments when it's been less than ideal. But for those moments, there have been thousands of occurrences where her sweetness is phenomenal. That alone makes all her faults see trivial in the big picture. Sasha is getting a little older now, has something called Kusching's Disease, and probably won't live forever (although she might..strong mutt genes). I can honestly say that when her time comes I'll be even a little bit more sad than when it does for the others since we have been through so much with her. But until that time comes..hopefully a decade or so away..long live Sasha!

Land of Science and Signs

46°, drizzly and calm. It was pretty cool (literally) watching the cold front up-slope creep in today, a wall of chill licking the mountain valleys from the flatlands below, eventually engulfing the entire neighborhood. Suz, the pups and I went on a mellow hike, perfect for both of us recovering from colds, up to the scientific area a bit north of town. Didn't summit anything, just worked our way up to a nice meadow with good views of the peaks and one of the very few glaciers in the area. The area we went to is quite developed in odd ways: ran-shackled semi trailers turned into dormitories, tin boxes transformed into scientific experiments and many a sign. Signs to stay on the road, signs to keep dogs on leash (I like these actually), signs saying the road is closed to motorized vehicles, confusingly, in three separate places (maybe if they don't get you the first time...three strikes and you are out?). I wouldn't say it was the most scenic route I've ever been on, and I much prefer it in the winter, but then there was that cold front, a little bit of cold hail and another legitimate signal that winter is just around the corner to make up for the less than ideal route choice.

Hiking season has begun!

Time to hit the switch

49°, cloudy and calm. And so, with the Soggy Bottom over and seasons flipping, I'm entering a sweet season of transition. A week of near complete rest, and it was needed. A few sessions in the weight room to remind the body what it takes to get ready for ski season. The knee is feeling worlds better and the cold has mostly abated.

Of course rides will still happen this fall, some of the best rides of the season. But it has seemed like a rather long biking season, probably because I notched a lot of hours on the bike in those lazy days off this summer. And they were not exactly lazy hours either, as there was always the specter of Montezuma's Revenge or the Soggy Bottom on the horizon.

Regardless, I'm looking forward to mixing it up some. I'm quite excited to race, train and coach a full slate of nordic this coming winter, and it's time to start preparing for that. Long hikes in the mountains with Suz and the dog pack, backpacking, a trip to the dunes, strength work and roller skiing and crisp autumn days easily rank as some of my favorite things to do, and it starts officially tomorrow. And they say snow is coming, as early as tomorrow night!

It's also a good time to give back. The Outdoor Club is ramping up - a scheduled snow hike on Monday - and I'm in a much more giving mood now that some goals I targeted for the summer have been accomplished. Time to spread the love of the outdoors and create the next generation of SMRP's!

Oh, and packrafting. More on that soon!

Photo courtesy Alpacka Raft and Louis Sass

The SINGLE best reason to get soggy

51°, some clouds, calm.

A last soggy thought (or maybe not). Take away Alaska. Take away the tundra. Take away the stellar climbs and grinning downhills, great people, multiple ecosystems. Take away the bears, the alpine lakes, the mist, the salmon smell, the awesome pictures, the storms and all that. And consider this one fact.

The Soggy Bottom 100 takes place on 100 miles of singletrack. Straight. No breaks, no dirt road (except for the very start and end). Think about that. The Leadville 100 has ZERO miles of singletrack (and for some odd reason 1,000 people line up to do it and pay $250 in the process). The Cascade Creampuff, an acclaimed trail race, has lots and lots of dirt road. I'm not sure there is another ride/event in the country with 100 miles of straight singletrack. Quality trail too. A lot of everything. Techy, smooth, wet, dry, all rad.

Until Saturday, I'd never ridden 100 miles of singletrack, straight, in a day. I'm not even sure it's possible here. This is reason alone to get soggy.

Soggy Musings

51°, clear and calm. Is it just me, or is the leaf change taking its bloody time this year? Anyhow...

I find blow-by-blow race/ride reports to be a bit lame, a bit self-ego massaging and blah reads. Ahhh...I went hard. Passed people. Got passed. Had so and so excuse. Whatever. Who fucking cares? But some things do stand out from the Soggy Bottom 100 in Hope, Alaska more than others:

Highlight 1: The light of the tundra. The ride starts at sea level and then climbs up to an above timberline plateau/mountain ravine pass. Time number one above timberline - clear skies, a low angle light that absolutely LIT UP the tundra. Everything was turning blood red up there, and it was truly an awesome moment. Time two, rain, wind, the tundra kicking up a storm, getting harsh. Winter, most certainly autumn, coming on strong. Time three, the dying light of the arctic day, misty mountains shrouded in fog and a very cold air. Perfect. The tundra is unquestionably an awesome place. Inspiring too, as my best riding easily took place above timberline.

Highlight 2: Getting lost. In the spirit of Libby Riddles and numerous other Alaskan outdoor explorers, I made a wrong turn. An easy mistake to make, but my bad still. Thanks to a couple riders a few miles down the trail, I got turned back around again. But there was a sort of freeing feeling too..leaving the event, however, unintentionally, and just venturing OUT THERE. Fuel for the future for sure.

Highlight 3: Rawness. A rawness that only 108 miles, a solid effort, a fight through physical pain and mental battles can accommodate. Nature is beautiful, but to feel it, to be in it you have to immerse yourself in it and strip away all the bullshit. You got to suffer a little. Not race suffer necessarily, but some suffer. And yes, I suffered. And at the same time, I feel like I experience that land. It left itself in me forever.

Highlight 4: People. Good people in the northland. Carlos is a humble genius. My fellow riders were friendly and I dare say AS strong as Colorado riders. Maybe not as many of them, not as deep, but strong. Living in this harsh land will do that, not to mention a culture that absolutely embraces nordic skiing and fitness all winter long. Everyone was cool, from the guy who won to the surly waitress at the post ride meal in Hope.

Highlight 5: Giving it what I had. This probably won't be my last, err..."event," but I'm certainly looking for new ways and places to explore, and I find these type events might not be the only or most effective avenue for that. But it was cool, on this day, to fight, to overcome many lows, ride the highs, battle through some pain and find something that I have not felt in sometime in the Alaskan tundra. Carlos told me the ride would change me. He's right. For the better.

Random memories:

...rinsing off in Hope, absolutely mud caked, basking in the late evening light, by the ocean, stoked.

...heading down Devils-something-Trail, smooth, twisty, tacky, railing it. Dropped through three eco zones, from tundra, to pine forest, to some bizarre rain forest.

...pit stop emotional high at bottom of said trail, telling Carlos this is the "best course in the world." And meaning it.

...random sea salt concoction Carlos gave me at same pit stop that seemed to work miracles.

...the wind on the tiny tundra lakes. Awesome. Powerful. Humbling

...bear scat, some blueberry patty filled, some more...errr...solid. Not overly concerned about bears, but glad they are there.

...the odor of rotting salmon. Their struggle is done...now they rest, like me.

Now I'm back home. Recovering. Cold still around, kind of draining me. Knee is getting better, but hurt some while doing a school ride. So I stood up, and went very, very easy. It was worth it. Had about ten kids. We explored West Mag on a wet, Alaskan type night. I kid you not...they giggled, hooted and hollered the entire time on Habid Trail. I have not had that much fun riding it since IGSSC '99. One four-foot something 11 year old girl in particular, from Ward, whose family lives in Tee Pee. Constant happiness. I mentioned to her that her nice fleece sweat shirt was getting mud on the back. She said, who cares, I'm not one of those girls, and then proceeded to blast up a steep hill and right smack dab through the deepest puddle, no doubt the next Juliana Furtado in training. Gave a candy bar to the kid who picked up the most trash. Taught 'em a few skills, and why not to cut trail (erosion, smosion...it's about the animals folks). A good day.

Now, time to get active. Or to be an activist. Read this and find out why. Better yet, don't just read. Act.

Soggy and Spent!

Photo courtesy http://picasaweb.google.com/julie.perilla/SoggyBottom100

55°, clear and calm. Back from Alaska. The ride was tremendous, and I performed about as well as I could have. Paid the price too - buried myself - as I now have a cold and slowly improving knee tendonitis. Time to lay low for a bit. More soon once I catch up on life and regain a little energy, but for now, there are a plethora of photos of this epic odyssey in the following places:

Here...

http://picasaweb.google.com/mjshea1/SoggyBottom9107

and here...

http://photos.mombok.com/gallery/3405124

and also here...

http://picasaweb.google.com/julie.perilla/SoggyBottom100

I'm the dude in the baggy gold shorts and the sometimes crooked helmet. There's also a pretty good thread about the event on MTBR about the event, with pictures and some description. Guess who the rider was on the rigid Moots who got turned around?! A proper write-up soon!