The Exclusive Deal

It is better to travel well than to arrive. 

- Buddha 

When Buddha made this statement he was obviously traveling "business" class.  He was not traveling to Logan Airport on Concord Trailways.  Nor was he dealing with a two hour departure delay on Alitalia followed by a never ending line.  When the words "better to travel well" are spoken there is comfort and privilege behind them.

My departure involved both discomfort and comfort.  As a part time hedonist I prefer this type of scenario.  My discomfort began when I realized that my flight was not going to leave as planned at 10:45 PM, but 1:25 AM.  The discomfort continued while I waited in line for an hour just to find out that I did not need to wait in line.  Since there was no Kiosk for Alitalia at Logan, and I did not pack a cell phone, waiting in line seemed like the obvious choice.  
This is when my discomfort turned to my embarrassment.  Once I finally reached the counter and handed over my passport I asked if I even needed to wait in line - a suspicion I had all along.  The answer was a "no" surrounded by a smirk.  We both laughed.  This was also when my embarrassment transitioned to joy - I was flying business class.

I am not exactly sure how I got into business class, but I am pretty sure it isn't because Alitalia loves teachers.  The truth be told I guess when I cashed in my Sky Miles several months prior I never paid attention to the finer details.  I just wanted to get to Rome, Istanbul, Bucharest, Budapest, Prague, Berlin, Amsterdam, and Paris.  I booked the flight and figured that the details would sort themselves out later. As someone that usually travels on the cheap, and has slept on the ground over a thousand times, business class is a special event.  For me, sleeping in a van instead of a tent feels like cheating.  So it was not until I finished my second glass of Champagne, and I was completely horizontal, that I was completely able to understand what Buddha meant.  Exclusivity can be pretty sweet...



The Masses
It's not easy having a good time when it is 95˚outside.  Especially in a city as crowded as Rome.   But beyond the heat and crowds there are amazing museums, incredible food, and a sense of grit that I have rarely experienced in another city.  Rome felt like a city has been on a thousand year binge and no one has bothered to tell the citizens, side walks, and buildings of Rome that it is time to check into rehab.

I was completely exhausted by the end of the first day. Exploring a large portion of the city (at least 15 miles) on foot was amazing until it wasn't.  Thankfully the hostel was great - the shower and the air conditioning both worked and the mattresses in the bunk beds were in good shape.  Since I was traveling alone I chose to stay in a six person bunk room - it was cheap and I didn't plan on spending much time in the room.  Of course sleeping in a room filled with strangers is always an interesting affair.  Especially when one of the strangers is hacking and gagging every thirty seconds, but still seemed to be sleeping.  As far as I could figure, with my limited medical background, the individual suffered from either acute bronchitis or walking phenomena.  As the night wore on this became more and more of a problem.  No one could sleep and I was not ready to get up and dig through my backpack for my ear plugs so I made a suggestion, a plan of sorts, to the group.  Even though I did not know any of my roommates (I came in late and it was dark) I knew this was a public problem and it needed a communal solution.

The first phase of the plan was to draw straws.  Whomever drew the short straw won.  The winner would then move to the second part of the plan - to smother the young New Zealander with a pillow and put him out of his (and our) misery.  I was not fortunate enough to draw the short straw, but I did come up with the plan and offered to cut the straws.  In reality I did concoct the plan and it was a smashing success.  Not in a murderous kind of way, but in a comical sense.  We all managed to laugh for some time at the suggestion.  Since I was the only individual in the room that did not know the victim, my roommates found it particularly amusing.  Needless to say no life was taken in the making of my late night joke.  But I did get up and grab my wax earplugs.

I too created a communal disruption a day and a half later.  My plan was to do an early morning tour of both the Vatican Museum and Saint Peter's Basilica.  The tour started at 7:30 AM - before the museum opened up to the public.  Since I am annoyingly punctual I thought it best to set my alarm for 6:00 AM.  This would give me time to eat breakfast and take the subway to my destination and leave myself a little wiggle room in case things went sideways.  Let me start by saying that setting an alarm on one's iPad while wearing wax ear plugs to bed is an incredible act of stupidity.  It is also  an amazing way to become immensely unpopular with one's new found community.  Luckily my roommates and I had already bonded over the planned murder of their ill friend so my screw up was not as damaging as one would imagine.   After my iPad was shut off by my bunk mate and I was shaken into consciousness, I was up and out of the hostel promptly.

I was 45 minutes early for my tour, but felt it best not to mention that to my bunkmates when they inquired about my day. And the tour, overall, was a great idea.  I believe it was the first tour that I ever paid for and I was extremely happy with my decision.  In the past my philosophy had always been anti-tour.  Sometimes I would tag along in the back of a random tour and try to listen in, but more often then not I would read everything I wanted to know before or after the tour.  But the Vatican is a special kind place.  It is it's own nation state and it is one of the largest tourist attractions on Earth.  It was also 92˚ at 7:30 AM and the line stretched for a quarter mile from the entrance and the gates would not be opening for another 30 minutes.

The big advantage of the "Express Tour" was not the immense amount of knowledge that the tour guide provided, or the limitless amount of beautiful art work on display. The greatest benefit was the ability to skip the immense line and go into the Vatican before all of those hot, cranky people.  This was my second act of exclusivity on the trip and it was worth every penny.

Bear Creek - Northeast Ridge

Thankfully, Greg did not notice that he carried most of the camp up by himself...

Rock Creek is a small, off-the-beaten-path campground.  A deep glacial lake surrounded by simple sites, bear boxes, and scattered white bark pine, western white pine, and mountain hemlock. We arrived tired.  Our time in Mammoth dealing with groceries, deferred back country passes, and logistics did not create much excitement.  But once we drove in the mood picked up.  It was a simple and beautiful spot to transition into Little Lakes Valley and climb Bear Creek Spire.

Vaughn made easy work of the scree fields...

The beginning of the hike was casual and the trail well travelled.  Once we broke off onto the climbers trail the terrain grew steep and the scree fields long.  But we were now all used to the altitude and we had all been gathering strength over the past week.  The air was cool and the sun was hot.  Other then the thickening smoke from a far away fire the day was perfect.  Within a few hours we were at Dade Lake setting up camp.

It was as cold as they look...

When we gathered for breakfast it was below 40 degrees.  We talked little and left one at a time to begin the approach around the lake and through the scree field.  I arrived after Greg and waited only a few minutes before Vaughn arrived.  There was no rush and we stared out into the valleys more then we spoke.  The smoke had not yet moved into the valley so the sky and air was still clear.

Beautiful rock and varied terrain...

We had decided the day before that we were going to free solo the climb, but brought a rope to repel and as a back up if we changed our minds.  We climbed cautiously so as not to knock rocks down onto each other and the wide terrain offered plenty of room to spread out.  Other then a couple of steep and gravelly sections the climbing was superb and we moved quickly up through the technical terrain.  Just before the summit was some scrambling across class four ridge until we reached the last technical pitch.  Once we reached the summit we took turns scaling the summit which was a 5.6 R boulder problem that would have pretty serious consequences if any climber was to blow the move.  

Amazing Granite

After the summit we sat and enjoyed the sun and view.  A solo climber, that came up across the East Ridge, joined us thirty minutes later.  He described the East Ridge as 5.6 S - the S standing for shitty and scary.  He had settled in the area several years ago and was able to provide us with all kinds of information about other climbs in the area.  He also provided us with a pretty good laugh once he left - he had a large rip in the front of his pants and was not wearing any underwear.  As he stood above me it was all I could do to not break out laughing (sorry, no picture).  Luckily, the view did not last...

Alpine ecstasy achieved...

The final "boulderish" move to the summit...  A non fall zone...

The descent was as smooth as the climb and soon we were at the bottom of the repel and heading down into the valley below.  Vaughn continued west across another ridge line and joined us a camp a few hours later after a relatively sketchy descent through some pretty scary terrain.  I knew that this might be the last alpine climb of my trip.  Time was running out and my hip, that had held up pretty well though out the summer, needed a bit of a break…

Bear Creek sits above camp catching the last of the afternoon sun...

Matthes...

According to our High Sierra Climbing guide, “Matthes Crest is a true knife-edge ridge - a long fin of rock sculptured by glaciers”.  Matthes is in Tuolumne Meadows - the high, eastern valley of Yosemite National Park.  Tuolumne is famous for less crowds and cooler weather then it’s big brother down valley.  It is also famous for lots of intermediate / moderate climbs for folks like us.  Since Matthes cannot be seen from the road the mass majority of the two million plus visitors that come through Yosemite never see it.  It is a beauty that has to be sought.  The climbing is relatively easy, but it can be a very tricky place to be if anything goes wrong.  There is no cell service, the trail head is six miles away, and it is a terrifying place to be if an afternoon electrical storm moves in. 

Vaughn the explorer...

Two days after leaving Vegas Greg and I were up on Matthes Crest.   It was a climb that we had both wanted to do for years.  The entire ridge is almost two miles long.  If a party were to belay each of it’s pitches one rope length at a time it could take up to ten hours to traverse.  We ended up combining the first two pitches into one and then simul-climbed the rest of the route after doubling up our sixty meter rope into a 30 meter double.  We completed the entire climb in three hours and the entire car to car trip took less then 10 hours - this included an amazing high alpine swim at Budd Lake.  

Pure Fun...

The "Think Tank"...

I am not one to remember all kinds of information about the specifics of any one climb.  Nor am I confident that we made all the best choices when we climbed Matthes Crest, but it sure did seem to go remarkably  smoothly.  To be truthful I barely read the description before we climbed the peak and depended on the rest of my party to navigate the approach through the high country.  But I will never forget this perfect alpine day...

Skinny dippin porn...  Sorry...

The Plague...

Arguably one of the best outdoor kitchens in the universe...

We found temporary camping for one night and then found premier camping for the rest of the week inside the park.  The Tuolumne Meadows campground (like many campgrounds across America) has several positives.  The biggest positives being it’s location (close to hundreds of climbs), it’s price ($30/each for the week), the free public transportation, and it’s relative security.  Another positive for me was being stationary.  For the past five weeks I had not stayed in one location more then two nights.

The negatives are more amusing then stressful.  The first is the massive amount of campsites.  There are 300 sites - 150 are reservation based and 150 are doled out on a first come first serve basis - we waited in line for about an hour.  Another negative is the constant campfires that never seem to stop smoking.  I know the campfire is a tradition that runs deep in most peoples camping consciousness, but to me it boarders on ridiculous.  First off, most of the folks that make fires, rarely make fires.  This leads to all kinds of trouble - hatchets in the hands of morons, fires that just smolder and smoke, and the fact that California is in the middle of a drought and the entire park is a tinder box.  One real negative that did develop was the plague...  That's right, the plague.  Apparently a couple of dead varmints were found, tested, and identified as carrying the plague.  The authorities decided to shut the campground down.  Luckily we had finished our stint in the park before they shut the campsite down and the park officials never realized that the varmints had caught the plague from our friend Brian.  He has this thing for rodents... 

Then there are the public bathrooms.  There are not enough of them, there too many of us, and there are posters warning everyone of the plague.  This leads to long lines in the morning that challenge most peoples’ ability to be civil.  It also shows how people really don't pay attention to warnings that the authorities post in plain sight.  I stood in front of the plague warning sign several times and never really thought about it.   Having to take a shit is a powerful drive that will cause people to act a little crazy, but signs that warn people that they are camping in an area that is infested with a potentially deadly disease seems to have no affect.  

The bathrooms are also public - which to some people means ‘not my problem’.   A select few think that dumping trash into the toilets, spreading toilet paper onto the floor, and cutting line to get to the toilet are all part of everyday life in the campground.  I wonder if being an asshole will increase one's chances of catching the plague?    

Little did Greg know that "Vaughn" was actually Satan... 

What Didn't Happen In Vegas...

Notice the drivers attention to the road...

8/4/15
Vegas is a place to get cheap flights and hotel rooms.  At least that’s what it is for people like me.  I don’t gamble and if I want to see a “show” of some sort I go to New York.  If I want to “party” I prefer to be in a place that I know the people I am partying with.  I have gambled in Vegas.  I have seen a show in Vegas (Grateful Dead UNLV 1991) and I have “partied” in Vegas.   I guess I just never understood the draw enough to be a return customer - other then to use its strategically placed airport, and its cheapish hotel rooms. 

I am a bit intrigued by the ‘something from nothing’ fairytale  that the city seems to exude.  To me the cities reputation feels like a giant, greased up spider web that people from all over the country slide into as some sort of right of passage.  Americans feed into the idea of Vegas.  It’s a place to win big (even though the mass majority of us lose), hook up with someone they barely know (while blind drunk), and generally do things they would never think of doing at home.  Of course Vegas always wins.  Once it has drained each visitor of their money (and integrity) it spits them out back to whatever shit ass town from which they come.     

Not that long ago Las Vegas was a tiny dessert town that became a rest stop for GI’s returning from the Pacific after World War II.  From there it grew into some sort of debauchery destination for shriners, bachelors and bachelorettes, retirees, and other thrill seekers that should have tried climbing instead of gambling away their pensions and bringing home sexually transmitted diseases to their girlfriend, wife, or significant other.  Las Vegas is a place that people make last ditch efforts to win big.  A place to beat the odds.  A place to, “go big or go home”.   “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”.  In other words don’t tell your friends how badly you got fleeced during your visit.  

My friends and I are probably the lamest visitors that had ever stepped into the city proper.  We didn’t want to partake in the usual debauchery and were more interested in what time the pool closed at night and what time it opened in the morning.  We did clink a couple beers together once the folks that flew in connected with the two of us that drove in.  Of the five of us only Brian and I knew everyone.  The other three (Greg, Vaughn, and Mark) had never met, but quickly became friends through common interests and close proximity - five guys in one hotel room will do that...  

Spearhead

Spearhead

At 1:00 AM I rolled into Denver after a rather hedonistic visit to Seattle.  Even though I was in the Pike’s Peak long term parking lot at the Denver International Airport it felt like home being in the van.  Since I was picking my buddy Greg up early in the morning I figured I would stay in the airport parking lot for the night.

While making breakfast the next morning one of the parking lot employees stopped in to investigate.  Rather then reporting me to the authorities he accepted a cup of coffee and a quick chat.  Other then bouncing my roof top storage box off the Alaskan Airlines sign in the arrivals area (I forget how tall the van is at times) the pick up went smoothly.  There was no damage to the Vansion, or the Alaskan Airlines sign, but it did generate a bit of excitement with the traffic authorities.  I am sure they will recover.  

It was great to have Greg on board.  Now climbing, scrambling, and all forms of mountain buffoonery could commence.  A quick shop in Boulder was followed by a hike into Lumpy’s Ridge outside of Estes Park.  We both needed an acclimation climb.  Greg needed to get used to functioning above 300 feet of sea level and I needed to shake out the cobwebs.  I hadn’t lead any routes that required “trad" gear since I busted my ankle on Cannon Cliff last September.

After our scouting mission we found a nice parking lot to pirate camp for the evening.  As we were prepping the van to go to bed an American Pit Bull came charging into our world to figure out who we were and why we in her owner’s lot.  Of course she was a bundle of love disguised as a bad ass.  The owner of the dog, and the lot, arrived next.  He had all kinds of questions about the van, where we were from, and then offered us his parking lot for the evening.  He was a bundle of love disguised as a bad ass as well.

Lumpy Cruiser...

On Friday we climbed a route called the White Whale.  The route was in the shade, had great rock, and was a classic cruiser.  If it were not for the thunder storm that rolled in at 11:00 AM it would have been a completely stress free climb.  The thunder created a small sense of urgency, but not enough to stop climbing - we figured it was easier to finish the route and walk off rather then rap.  We were also fortunate enough to meet a local climber that gave us some great advise on where we could camp for the night outside of Estes Park.  

Descending from the thunder...

After a great morning of climbing we headed into town to sort out emails, food, and scout out some free camping.  The spot we found was amazing.  It was high above town facing west on a US Forestry road.   Burritos and beer complimented the sunset as it rolled in the side door or the van…

Morning came early.  A speedy breakfast in the Glacier Gorge Parking Lot kicked off a six mile ascent to the base of Spearhead which was a bit of a shit show.  Not sure why we were surprised by the crowd.  It was a Saturday morning on an amazing (moderate) climb only hours from Denver.  As awesome as the Front Range is, the crowds can be challenge.  At first glance we counted over twenty climbers, but it turned out that there were only four parties in front of us that we could see.  Two long bottle-necks, one flying rock, and some painfully slow parties distracted, but could not dull, the shine of Spearhead.

Crappy Views from the North side of Spearhead

Other then the first two and the last two last pitches, the climbing was a scramble.  The last two pitches offered the most interesting climbing.  The “crux” was “a left facing dihedral that hangs over the edge of the northeast face”.  It was beautiful, airy and intimidating pitch that was far easier then it looked.  The next pitch was a grovel that really stumped the parties in front of us.  They went around the crux pitch, but had no choice but to climb through the grovel pitch.  We could hear confusion, dry heaving, and crying.  It took the party above us over an hour to get through it.  Greg climbed it quickly.  It was an awkward “wriggle” up through a left facing corner.  I did get stuck for a minute - it's tough being a fat kid with a backpack some days…

The top out looked like a collapsed pile of dominos.  Stepping onto the overhanging summit was an act of faith.  It felt like we were walking onto a Jenga pile in which the last piece might have been pulled.  Of course the summit was solid and it would take far more then the two of us to knock it over.  

The long descent down a nasty scree field, and the six mile hike from the base of the climb could enhance the taste of any beer.  But we had a long drive ahead of us.  We had to be in Las Vegas in a little over 24 hours to pick up three more of our friends.  So the beer would have to wait…  

The end of the long, steep, scree field...

The view from the summit...

The Trials and Tribulations of Change...

Seattle's Beautiful Skyline...

Change is the law of life.  And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future.

- John F. Kennedy

Flying into Seattle for a long weekend seemed a little crazy.  The flight was a little too expensive, I would lose my high altitude edge, and every time I visit Seattle the focus is on food and libations - not exactly the best path to alpine conditioning.  But Seattle does provide me with something that is very hard to put a price tag on - old friends that I do not see nearly enough.

In 1995 I lived north of Seattle in Bellingham, WA.  I worked for the Lummi Tribal School as a special education teacher, and spent many weekends heading south to Seattle and north to Vancouver - two towns I have always loved.  When I moved back East a couple good friends moved west and settled in the Seattle area.  Although it is tough to have good friends move across the continent, there is also a hidden bonus - they now live in a place that I can always visit...

Seattle is now a boom town.  For better or worse.  If you were born here, and liked the way Seattle was twenty-years-ago, you are probably not that happy. If you are a developer or a restaurateur, the excitement and potential is overwhelming.  I am an outsider.  A tourist that comes to visit every five years or so.  And each time I visit I am pretty amazed at the changes I see.  Back in 1995 I thought the density of the traffic was pretty thick and the pace of traffic a little crazy.  Now, the congestion is horrendous and the driving seems like a free for all.  On Wednesday I was almost crushed by two cars that collided and spun out of control and careened into a stop sign I was standing next to.

Way too close...

Housing offers its own challenges as well.  Rents are expensive, and buying a home or condo is becoming out of reach for most Seattleites.  Homes that sold for $23,000 twenty-years-ago in Capital Hill can now fetch over a million.  Needless to say wages have gone up, but not at the blistering pace that the costs of living has.

The friends that I come to visit here in Seattle represent several different perspectives on the change that has happened here.  One friend, Eion, is an up and coming developer that is buying, beautifying, and selling homes here in Seattle for eight years.  He see's a real estate market that is exploding and is working as hard as he can to capitalize on the staggering growth.  

Change is hard work...

Another pair is a middle class couple that have been is Seattle for many years - Ryan grew up on Capital Hill and Amy arrived here in 1996.  They have seen a transformation that has been at times frustrating to watch and be submersed in.  Many of the land marks that they grew to love and rely upon have been swept aside, and the once accessible down town offers new challenges and expense.  

The third party consists of two, young, new comers.  Sid and Augustine.  They are 19 and 20 years of age, have been traveling the country, and are new to the Seattle area.  They are two gutsy, and adventurous, new comers to a city that is not an easy place to navigate with little financial resources.  They have worked their way west from Cambridge, MA to the Mission District of San Fransisco, up to Los Angles, where their car bonked, and then to Seattle by bus.

For Sid and Augustine Seattle is new and grand, and life is a daring adventure.  They have arrived with enthusiasm, a young love, and a new perspective.  They have no expectations, just a day by day journey that has led them to a new place to explore.   They are yet to mourn the loss of a place that once was, because they are just discovering what this new place is.

On their Seattle adventure...

Who are the "bad guys" in this scenario?  The developers?  The builders?  The realtors?  Out-of-staters?  The corporations that recruit over-achievers and pay them high salaries?  Air B & B?  It happens here in Seattle, where I am from in Portland, and in places like San Fransisco, et al.  More often then not the complaints I hear are directed at the people that are somehow involved in the process, not the system itself.  

To me the responsibility to influence policy falls squarely on each citizen, in every community.   I am part of this group and have not been active in the local politics for many years.   There are substantial obstacles that make it easy to abandon participation.  It is difficult to influence the inner politics of a city like Seattle, or Portland Maine, when there are deep pockets that push for development, have an inside track, and have the expertise and singular purpose that it’s citizenship lacks.  But after all is said and done the direction that local government takes depends on who is pushing the hardest. 

One never reaches home, but wherever friendly paths intersect the whole world looks like home for a time.

                  - Hermann Hesse

7/22/15

From Breckinridge we sped north.  Our first stop was Saratoga, WY to visit the Hobo Hot Springs.  We got the low down from one of Michael and Sydney’s friends at the party.  Not only did Saratoga, WY offer up free hot springs, it also had a new brewery that had great food and solid beer.  I was very impressed with everything about this particular hot spring - it’s free, there is a cold river to dip in between soaks, there are public showers, the various pools are made of concrete, and there are no naked mutants waving their junk around.  It was a huge score.

What do you mean the water is hot?

After an hour-ish of soaking we hit the road and drove to Lander, WY. Lander is just east of the Wind River Range (one of the most amazing places I have ever been) and is the home base for the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS).  I had always imagined that if I could have planned my twenties out a little better I could have landed myself a job at NOLS when I was young and unbroken.  I could have gone into teaching after I was older and broken.  Luckily for me the path I did land on has been pretty awesome as well.  

Lander is also home to a company called Lander’s Llamas.  It is my hope to someday take a course on how to manage llamas and then organize a two week climbing expedition into the Wind River Range with the llamas doing the heavy lifting. Apparently each llama can carry 60 pounds, eat as they go, and are great watch dogs - they freak out when anyone or anything approaches camp.  That can be especially helpful if the visitor is a grizzly bear.   Get a group of ten people and twenty llamas and the Wind River Range would be a pretty sweet place to tromp around. 

Free camping in Lander is pretty sweet...

I would imagine that some people might find Lander a little too sleepy.  I am not one of those people.  To me Lander does a great job of keeping it’s western feel and independence while being a very welcoming place.  Lander has an up and coming restaurant scene.  We checked out two different spots and they were both pretty awesome.  Another welcoming aspect that the town has to offer is City Park.  A small, but versatile park that has tennis and basketball courts, two baseball fields, a soccer field, lots of picnicking areas along the river, and free camping and public restrooms.  My guess is that my home town (Portland, Maine) would never offer up its park (Deering Oaks) to the public for any sort of camping.  Which is a shame.  

Po Po Agie falls includes a rock slide drop in.... 

Lander is surrounded by incredible outdoor terrain.  Not only is the Wind River Range next door, but Sinks Canyon State Park is only minutes from it’s downtown.  The Winds run roughly north - west to south - east for100 miles and follows the Continental Divide. Gannett Peak, at 13,804 feet is the highest peak in Wyoming.  One of its most famous sections is the Cirque de Towers which is a collection of several dramatic, granite peaks that form a circle around it’s plush, boulder strewn meadows.  Sinks Canyon is a section of the Wind River Range.  The canyon is the middle fork of the Po Po Agie River. There is a section of the river that flows into an underground limestone cavern at “The Sinks” only to emerge 1/4 mile down the canyon in a pool named, “The Rise”.  

For the three of us Lander was a new place to explore.  Hikes lead to beautiful water falls and hunger led to outdoor burger joints with locally made beer.  City Park, where we camped, was filled with locals that picnicked by the river during the afternoon, and people that were camping in Lander by night so they could explore the town and the surrounding area by day.  Everyone we met was friendly and courteous.  It was a place that friendly people seemed to intersect…

This spot is just a 45 minute hike up into Sinks Canyon State Park...

  

The kind of place you don't want to leave...

  

Pedal Hard, Ride High....

Health is the greatest gift, contentment the greatest wealth, faithfulness the best relationship.

                                                                                                  

                                                               -Buddha

7/18/15

This week is also a birthday week for my buddy Michael and I.  We celebrated Michael’s birthday last night with a surprise party here in Salida after riding the Monarch Crest Trail.  There was all kinds of great folks, lots of local produce, meats and cheeses, and Sydney’s parents, who did an incredible job of hosting the party, have an amazing location for any outdoor event.   I was also very impressed at how incredible the ride was.  I was sucking wind pretty hard on the climb in and the biggest problem is that I really can’t blame acclimation at this point.  So my excuse is that it was my third mountain bike ride in the past year and the other two had happened earlier that same week.  Overall I was pretty happy with how I held up considering.

It was not that the climbs were the hardest I had ever done, nor was the single track the best I had ever ridden.  But when the climbs, the views, and the vast amount of incredible single track are combined together on one thirty mile ride I am pretty positive that the Monarch Crest Trail was the best ride I had ever done.  Several of the downhill sections were miles long and they offered the perfect mix of technical challenge and sustained flow.  At times I was giggling and couldn't stop swearing - I guess that’s what I do when I am really happy…

This morning Michael was up at 4:30 AM getting ready for his race.  It’s the Breckinridge 100 Challenge.  The course includes 13,719 feet of climbing over 100 miles.  For most racers it takes around 10 hours of continues riding to complete the course.  It seems to be a special kind of suffering that involves a great deal of self loathing or self love, not sure which.  Hanging with Michael and one of his buddies last night and hearing them discuss other similar races they have done, how they prepare for such races, and the self deprecating humor that surrounds an event like this one is inspiring.  

Tomorrow Michael, Sydney, and I are continuing our road trip to Lander, WY to camp, hike, and relax.  After a few days in Lander we are off to Billings, MT for my birthday to see the John Butler Trio!

The Best down hill ride ever....