Friday, March 21, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Deciding to Go
"All this flowing water
has got my mind wandering
Do you ever finally reach
a point of knowing
or do you just wake up one day
and say I am going?
What will I tell you
when you ask me why I'm crying?
Will I point above
at the Red Tail gracefully soaring
or down to below where its prey
is quietly trembling?"1
I was driving from L.A. to Joshua Tree, and thinking about what Edward Abbey said about there being no reason to go to L.A. and how he didn't (he went to the Havasupai instead), and thinking about my friend's dead father and also his sister, who had just cooked dinner for us. And then about how my lies about the ashes of our fathers justified the salvation of those two father's children by their basking in the wilderness.
I'll need to confess that sin someday. Maybe today.
Imagine having to go to such great lengths to explain taking 2 days off just one week after you lifelong friend's father has died. We banish our failings to the dirt of the desert, finding peace in the only harmony we know; our developing oneness with the wilderness. Being one with the world is so simple, so fulfilling, the evidence of it simple sand in the shoes of an everyday life.
Mac never spent much time with me in the wilderness. But his life and knowledge of the wilderness, his savvy and wisdom, even the very weapons of his hunter spirit, have been shared with me through my friendship with his son. I am so much better off having known this man, Mac.
Yep, I was driving along against the pre-dawn Monday rush from the desert outlife into an urban world, cautiously fighting my own transformation, by playing endlessly with my phone, and thinking of Abbey. If Phoenix is a cancer, than Los Angeles is a pox; not a pox on humanity, just on the desert. Thinking quietly of Abbey and my upcoming birthday, and the Adirondacks, and my children, and John Muir, and Ansel Adams, and wondering at how many years have passed.
The sun was cracking open the sky.
Palm Springs was passing behind me and before me lay the Mohave. An uncharted wilderness of the military, bombing runs and the omnipresent creosote, a playground of outlaws, wild horses and the occasional border patrol. Thank god and Edward Abbey. I felt like I was coming home.
Me -- finding a home in the Mohave. I should confess that.
I decided that I need to go to the wilderness and write my story.
It's not the celibate story of Thoreau, nor the hardened wilderness of Hemingway, not Abbey's tale of love, nor a sad tragedy of Alexander Supertramp. It's a story of joy, and reverence, and abandon. It's the fly fisherman of my grandfather, the goose hunter of my father, it's the happy hiking guy and prospecting in the Sierras, it's tube rides on Cache creek with my crazy brother, and skiing with my overly sane one. It's me on Steptoe Butte listening to a Russian painter explain to me that the ants crawl into the pine cones when it's about to rain. It's the Colorado in a raft, barefoot hikes in the Rockies, an icy swim in the Couer D'Alene River, or a just a simple hike to a wilderness hot springs carrying a French woman. C'est la vie.
I think there might be more to confess. I think I am gonna just go ahead and do it.
1The Cowboy Junkies, Good Friday
has got my mind wandering
Do you ever finally reach
a point of knowing
or do you just wake up one day
and say I am going?
What will I tell you
when you ask me why I'm crying?
Will I point above
at the Red Tail gracefully soaring
or down to below where its prey
is quietly trembling?"1
I was driving from L.A. to Joshua Tree, and thinking about what Edward Abbey said about there being no reason to go to L.A. and how he didn't (he went to the Havasupai instead), and thinking about my friend's dead father and also his sister, who had just cooked dinner for us. And then about how my lies about the ashes of our fathers justified the salvation of those two father's children by their basking in the wilderness.
I'll need to confess that sin someday. Maybe today.
Imagine having to go to such great lengths to explain taking 2 days off just one week after you lifelong friend's father has died. We banish our failings to the dirt of the desert, finding peace in the only harmony we know; our developing oneness with the wilderness. Being one with the world is so simple, so fulfilling, the evidence of it simple sand in the shoes of an everyday life.
Mac never spent much time with me in the wilderness. But his life and knowledge of the wilderness, his savvy and wisdom, even the very weapons of his hunter spirit, have been shared with me through my friendship with his son. I am so much better off having known this man, Mac.
Yep, I was driving along against the pre-dawn Monday rush from the desert outlife into an urban world, cautiously fighting my own transformation, by playing endlessly with my phone, and thinking of Abbey. If Phoenix is a cancer, than Los Angeles is a pox; not a pox on humanity, just on the desert. Thinking quietly of Abbey and my upcoming birthday, and the Adirondacks, and my children, and John Muir, and Ansel Adams, and wondering at how many years have passed.
The sun was cracking open the sky.
Palm Springs was passing behind me and before me lay the Mohave. An uncharted wilderness of the military, bombing runs and the omnipresent creosote, a playground of outlaws, wild horses and the occasional border patrol. Thank god and Edward Abbey. I felt like I was coming home.
Me -- finding a home in the Mohave. I should confess that.
I decided that I need to go to the wilderness and write my story.
It's not the celibate story of Thoreau, nor the hardened wilderness of Hemingway, not Abbey's tale of love, nor a sad tragedy of Alexander Supertramp. It's a story of joy, and reverence, and abandon. It's the fly fisherman of my grandfather, the goose hunter of my father, it's the happy hiking guy and prospecting in the Sierras, it's tube rides on Cache creek with my crazy brother, and skiing with my overly sane one. It's me on Steptoe Butte listening to a Russian painter explain to me that the ants crawl into the pine cones when it's about to rain. It's the Colorado in a raft, barefoot hikes in the Rockies, an icy swim in the Couer D'Alene River, or a just a simple hike to a wilderness hot springs carrying a French woman. C'est la vie.
I think there might be more to confess. I think I am gonna just go ahead and do it.
1The Cowboy Junkies, Good Friday
Saturday, March 15, 2008
It's a Question of Aesthetics
I was an undergrad at the California State University in Hayward in 1993, and was really ready to graduate. I had applied to grad school and been accepted, and although I still had 2 quarters of course work to complete, there was really only one quarter remaining before I had to start graduate work.
So I concocted a crazy plan. Take all the classes (30 units) in one quarter, and if I don't pass -- take an incomplete and finish in the few remaining weeks. That required that I get the Dean's approval, and I swear that's the only time I ever met him.
Dr. Russ Abrams, a philosopher, after accepting my initial argument that, as a senior and fairly smart guy, I could probably easily pass his freshman level course in Clear Thinking if I only attended every other class (since he seemed to do everthing twice), seemed genuinely glad to see me when I showed at his class every other session. I was candid, and so was he; I asked the frequent question and he needed that. So we got along fine.
When I got the first test score back and it was an 18%, I freaked, confident I was going to fail. The highest score was a 98 and I was second, and as it turns out, a "B".
So we marched through 11 weeks of that ... me with an 18% B and he and I enjoying delightful conversations about my grandmother the astronaut, and other unbelievable but possibly true characters. I succeeded despite such poor attendance, and he revealed that I deserved an "A", however, since I had taken the course pass/fail ... I would just pass. Rumour has it that had I taken all those 30 units for grades I would have graduated summa cum laude. But, that's just a rumour.
On the final lecture Russ gave me a great treat. He made the astounding argument that Mathematics, because of it's principle of elegance, ultimately is founded on a principle of art. I don't think I have failed him at all in taking this to mean that Art itself is of the highest order in the realm of knowledge. I have many arguments in my life about the importance of art in understanding the world.
SO I was a bit surprised during the last job interview I went to when I was informed "I don't think I've ever interviewed any one with a Master of Fine Arts degree." "Then I guess it's your lucky day," says I. Guess who didn't get the job.
User Interface design, games, usage, etc. ... are all about aesthetics, which I am a recognized expert in. I don't know what they were thinking. I think they might have been a bit full of themselves.
A lot of what we do in our lives is about aesthetics ... In San Francisco, they made it against the law to use styrofoam containers for take out food, and outlawed plastic bags at grocery stores because they are bad for the environment. Personally I think that the noise stryrofoam makes would have been sufficient cause, not to mention the smell of it when it vaporizes. Or the fact that everyone in town knows what you've bought because it's in a shapeless, formless, semi-transparent, plastic bag. A paper bag has strength, character, wisdom, and it's a pretty good source of fuel. A paper bag is much more aesthically pleasing than a plastic bag.
But never mind that. It was the right thing to do -- and since we all hate that sound -- we're all better off. Amen.
This week, I am going to Durango, Colorado with my son, to look at going to college there. He doesn't really want to go. I said "Whoa, I would go there." Skiing, rafting, hiking, the San Juan mountains, nice. Wilderness. He doesn't want to go to Colorado. He wants to stay here. Even my son is making aesthetic choices. He doesn't want the wilderness, he wants to be in the city. Here.
Here. I am working in information. I live in a house that is shared by my family. I am a contractor, a mercenary. A hacker. My contract is up in May. My kids are both adults. I had this idea that I might go get a summer job and spend my summer in Alaska, Moab, or Yosemite, or Yellowstone ... ya know, drop out for a bit. Hike the Pacific Crest Trail.
Now, my current assignment would like to make me permanent. That is going to screw my plan. My job is not that attractive. It's really about aesthetics. I think I'll tell them no. And go anyway.
So I concocted a crazy plan. Take all the classes (30 units) in one quarter, and if I don't pass -- take an incomplete and finish in the few remaining weeks. That required that I get the Dean's approval, and I swear that's the only time I ever met him.
Dr. Russ Abrams, a philosopher, after accepting my initial argument that, as a senior and fairly smart guy, I could probably easily pass his freshman level course in Clear Thinking if I only attended every other class (since he seemed to do everthing twice), seemed genuinely glad to see me when I showed at his class every other session. I was candid, and so was he; I asked the frequent question and he needed that. So we got along fine.
When I got the first test score back and it was an 18%, I freaked, confident I was going to fail. The highest score was a 98 and I was second, and as it turns out, a "B".
So we marched through 11 weeks of that ... me with an 18% B and he and I enjoying delightful conversations about my grandmother the astronaut, and other unbelievable but possibly true characters. I succeeded despite such poor attendance, and he revealed that I deserved an "A", however, since I had taken the course pass/fail ... I would just pass. Rumour has it that had I taken all those 30 units for grades I would have graduated summa cum laude. But, that's just a rumour.
On the final lecture Russ gave me a great treat. He made the astounding argument that Mathematics, because of it's principle of elegance, ultimately is founded on a principle of art. I don't think I have failed him at all in taking this to mean that Art itself is of the highest order in the realm of knowledge. I have many arguments in my life about the importance of art in understanding the world.
SO I was a bit surprised during the last job interview I went to when I was informed "I don't think I've ever interviewed any one with a Master of Fine Arts degree." "Then I guess it's your lucky day," says I. Guess who didn't get the job.
User Interface design, games, usage, etc. ... are all about aesthetics, which I am a recognized expert in. I don't know what they were thinking. I think they might have been a bit full of themselves.
A lot of what we do in our lives is about aesthetics ... In San Francisco, they made it against the law to use styrofoam containers for take out food, and outlawed plastic bags at grocery stores because they are bad for the environment. Personally I think that the noise stryrofoam makes would have been sufficient cause, not to mention the smell of it when it vaporizes. Or the fact that everyone in town knows what you've bought because it's in a shapeless, formless, semi-transparent, plastic bag. A paper bag has strength, character, wisdom, and it's a pretty good source of fuel. A paper bag is much more aesthically pleasing than a plastic bag.
But never mind that. It was the right thing to do -- and since we all hate that sound -- we're all better off. Amen.
This week, I am going to Durango, Colorado with my son, to look at going to college there. He doesn't really want to go. I said "Whoa, I would go there." Skiing, rafting, hiking, the San Juan mountains, nice. Wilderness. He doesn't want to go to Colorado. He wants to stay here. Even my son is making aesthetic choices. He doesn't want the wilderness, he wants to be in the city. Here.
Here. I am working in information. I live in a house that is shared by my family. I am a contractor, a mercenary. A hacker. My contract is up in May. My kids are both adults. I had this idea that I might go get a summer job and spend my summer in Alaska, Moab, or Yosemite, or Yellowstone ... ya know, drop out for a bit. Hike the Pacific Crest Trail.
Now, my current assignment would like to make me permanent. That is going to screw my plan. My job is not that attractive. It's really about aesthetics. I think I'll tell them no. And go anyway.
The State of Pickles
I have no idea why I would ever get sweet pickles on a sandwich, but I did. Who ever thought of that? It seems that pickles really aren't all that good anymore; they just don't tast like they used to when my grandmother made them, or when you would find a barrel full of them in the local hardware store. I would eat one of those. Really. Even the best pickles these days are somewhat disappointing.
The state of pickles isn't quite what it used to be. Some things aren't quite as good as they used to be.
I am pretty sure I am not going to be disappointed in having bought one of these. I can't wait for it to get here.
The state of pickles isn't quite what it used to be. Some things aren't quite as good as they used to be.
I am pretty sure I am not going to be disappointed in having bought one of these. I can't wait for it to get here.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
... I'm Grounded
The finger injury has me effectively grounded. Period. No climbing. The mushroom girl and I spent the day with her bike. Fixing it up , and buying stuff for it. Well we didn't buy a rack. And lthen we didn't buy tires. And we didn't look at used bikes. And we didn't find a new wheel.
We did tweak on it, oil it a bit, adjust the brakes, and generally spend some time learning about the MGirl's bike and caressing it. We avoiding lunch and then took it for a ride.
today's miles: about 20
temp: warm and windy.
We took the route out by the bay.
It was good out there but the wsurf was up. We rode the ten miles down without breaking a sweat -- talking and chatting. We turned back and into the wind and the conversation stopped. The wind roared and it was a hump getting back. The Mgirl demonstrated her youth by leaving me behind immediately, and I never saw her again until I was back at the truck. At one point I was trying to catch her -- but there was no way for me to bridge the gap.
It's cool though. The Mgirl's bike worked well and the wind gave us a big workout and it was all fun.
Angel and the Mgirl had a birthday tonight. So we drank a bit and shot cutthoat at the pool hall.
Friday, March 7, 2008
The Tapeworm is Angry
Some of you may remember this about the ultimate in easy to
I sat across from my boss every day for about eight months and at about 2:30 it would start. The foraging. I would begin to prowl around the kitchen and work areas, looking for uneaten carbohydrates, ice cream bars, or an occasional cup of moose stew, which was often, damned hard to find, in that office in San Francisco. Frankly, I was hungry, and it was obvious.
One day, after a late lunch, my boss looks up at about 3:15 and says, "How's the tapeworm doing?" There was an eff-load of laughter right after that. I said, "Wha?" "Your tapeworm. Howse he doing?" More laughter. Hmmmm.
So the other night I was eating ScreamingEffingHot™ with chunksOfHabanero™ Thai food with my friend, and I belched rather profoundly. He said, "I think the tapeworm is angry." More laughter.
The Mushroom Girl and I are going to Berkeley tomorrow shopping for a used bike. so maybe after that I can tell the story about the elder brother and the Atkins diet, and about the guy who got fired for hoarding hot chocolate in his locker at work, and how if you wait for the potato chips to be put out at work you'll starve to death, because -- after all -- those are *bad* for you, ... mmm ... they're carbs, so we don't want you to have them all the time.
Pass the pasta please.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
.JPG)
Friday, February 22, 2008
Pale Sun Playlist
http://rhap-app04.int.real.com/rhaplink?rhapid=3763916&type=playlist&title=Pale+Sun&from=real
1. Por Un Amor - Linda Ronstadt
2. Pale Sun - Cowboy Junkies
3. Good Friday - Cowboy Junkies
4. When It Rains - Tish Hinojosa
5. The Redtail Hawk - Kate Wolf
6. Sweet Jane - Cowboy Junkies
7. Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode
8. Sister Morphine - Marianne Faithfull
9. Faithless Love - (with J.D. Souther) - Linda Ronstadt
10. Southland In The Springtime - Indigo Girls
11. You Finally Said Something Good (When You Said Goodbye) - Teddy Thompson
12. Deperado - Linda Ronstadt
13. Hunted - Cowboy Junkies
14. As If Your Life Depended On It - Juliana Hatfield
15. Closer To Fine - Indigo Girls
16. Blasphemous Rumours - Depeche Mode
17. Hickory Wind (Alternate Version) - Gram Parsons
18. Jesus, Take The Wheel - Carrie Underwood
19. Secure Yourself - Indigo Girls
20. If You Were The Woman And I Was The Man - Cowboy Junkies
21. Before He Cheats - Carrie Underwood
22. Our Song - Taylor Swift
23. Good Friday - Cowboy Junkies
24. Policy Of Truth - Depeche Mode
25. Sun Comes Up, It's Tuesday Morning - Cowboy Junkies
26. Aquella Noche - Tish Hinojosa
27. Welcome Me - (live) - Indigo Girls
28. Murder, Tonight, In The Trailer Park - Cowboy Junkies
29. Walking After Midnight - Cowboy Junkies
30. Pushing The Needle Too Far - Indigo Girls
31. Sellout - Juliana Hatfield
32. Losing My Religion - R.E.M.
33. Enjoy The Silence - Depeche Mode
34. Something In The Rain - Tish Hinojosa
35. You Finally Said Something Good (When You Said Goodbye) - Teddy Thompson
1. Por Un Amor - Linda Ronstadt
2. Pale Sun - Cowboy Junkies
3. Good Friday - Cowboy Junkies
4. When It Rains - Tish Hinojosa
5. The Redtail Hawk - Kate Wolf
6. Sweet Jane - Cowboy Junkies
7. Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode
8. Sister Morphine - Marianne Faithfull
9. Faithless Love - (with J.D. Souther) - Linda Ronstadt
10. Southland In The Springtime - Indigo Girls
11. You Finally Said Something Good (When You Said Goodbye) - Teddy Thompson
12. Deperado - Linda Ronstadt
13. Hunted - Cowboy Junkies
14. As If Your Life Depended On It - Juliana Hatfield
15. Closer To Fine - Indigo Girls
16. Blasphemous Rumours - Depeche Mode
17. Hickory Wind (Alternate Version) - Gram Parsons
18. Jesus, Take The Wheel - Carrie Underwood
19. Secure Yourself - Indigo Girls
20. If You Were The Woman And I Was The Man - Cowboy Junkies
21. Before He Cheats - Carrie Underwood
22. Our Song - Taylor Swift
23. Good Friday - Cowboy Junkies
24. Policy Of Truth - Depeche Mode
25. Sun Comes Up, It's Tuesday Morning - Cowboy Junkies
26. Aquella Noche - Tish Hinojosa
27. Welcome Me - (live) - Indigo Girls
28. Murder, Tonight, In The Trailer Park - Cowboy Junkies
29. Walking After Midnight - Cowboy Junkies
30. Pushing The Needle Too Far - Indigo Girls
31. Sellout - Juliana Hatfield
32. Losing My Religion - R.E.M.
33. Enjoy The Silence - Depeche Mode
34. Something In The Rain - Tish Hinojosa
35. You Finally Said Something Good (When You Said Goodbye) - Teddy Thompson
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Proximal Phalange, Left Hand
Ring finger, middle joint; my first real damage. I was working on a bouldering route at the House of Pain™ when I matched my left hand to my right on a fairly small hold, and loaded up my body's weight on to the ring finger of my left hand. It made a noise that reminded me of a dog eating a chicken and I hit the crash pad.
I am wondering right now if it's broken, dislocated, or just all torn to crap, and I've taken some Ibuprofen. As you can see it really isn't swollen all that much, despite a fair amount of pain -- so maybe I am just a wimp.
I did continue to climb with it for about an hour. I might regret that.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Tabata This
Well -- over at Peninsula Crossfit last night I did a workout called "tabata this" which involves 8 each of 20 second intervals followed by 10 second rests. 8 sets in a series of as many squats, rowing, pull ups, sit ups, or push ups that one can do in 20 seconds. Score is the lowest number of all the sets in a given exercise. After each exercise comes a one minute break.
I think "tabata" is an Andromedan word meaning "to cause pain to." Eight sets of sit ups with a score of seven might come from a series of 8, 9, 7, 8, 8, 8, 7, 8 or 63 total sit ups. A score of 4 like mine in the push ups, for example, absolutely indicates a total of at least 32 over 8 sets (4*8=32), but doesn't reflect the actual total, which could be much higher. 10, 8, 7, 7, 7, 5, 4, and 4, for example, totalling 52. If you had asked me before last night if I could do 50 push ups ... I would have said "No way."
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Jump-fest with Peninsula CrossFit
Went out with Saul and did a little workout on Saturday. Saul's Saturday workouts are free -- so be sure to check one out.
Focus: Cardio
Warm-up: Jog 800 M then 5 x FlowFit
Skill/Specific Warm-up: Review KB swings
WOD:
2 rounds for time:
50 M Broad jump or bounds
25 Push-ups
50 M Lunges
25 Kettlebell swings, 1 pood
50 M Bear crawl
25 Sit-ups
50 M Frog hop
ok -- so -- I'm in pain. But I did manage to complete my first 5.10a route over at the house of pain™ yesterday despite uncooperative fingers from crawling across 100 yards of astroturf.
Focus: Cardio
Warm-up: Jog 800 M then 5 x FlowFit
Skill/Specific Warm-up: Review KB swings
WOD:
2 rounds for time:
50 M Broad jump or bounds
25 Push-ups
50 M Lunges
25 Kettlebell swings, 1 pood
50 M Bear crawl
25 Sit-ups
50 M Frog hop
ok -- so -- I'm in pain. But I did manage to complete my first 5.10a route over at the house of pain™ yesterday despite uncooperative fingers from crawling across 100 yards of astroturf.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Phoenix' Seven Summits
That's Phoenix behind me. From the top of Camelback Mountain. Photo compliments of the Happy Hiking Buddy -- © 2005.
Described here, the seven summits. Simple problem; climb each of Phoenix's seven summits. No sweat. Easy. The farthest of the lot is 7 miles to the top of South Mountain and back. I've already done Camelback.
But that's pretty casual. Just to make things interesting, let's do it all in a single day, especially since I am not really close by.
Here are the details:
| Shadow | 1 mile | 440 ft climb | Moderate |
| Lookout | 1 | 475 | Strenuous |
| North | 1.6 | 614 | Moderately Strenuous |
| Shaw Butte | 5 | 670 | Moderately Strenuous |
| Piestawa Peak | 2.4 | 1190 | Strenuous |
| South | 7 | 1310 | Strenuous |
| Camelback | 2.3 | 1300 | Strenuous |
| 20.3 Miles | 5999 feet uphill |
Seems like it might make for a compelling hike. Some time in March, while it's still cool. Care to join me?
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
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Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Snowshoe Thompson
Here's a story about Snowshoe Thompson, who frequently walked across the Sierras. I like the bit about carving snowshoes for the rescuers.
Friday, December 14, 2007
There's a story somewhere about a wild boar hunt, which included some shoe stealing. Anyway -- these are the replacement shoes. Merrell Overdrives. in beluga and black. Gore-tex, Vibram soles and scotch reflective striping. 1 pound 11.5 ounces. Hopefully they will take the same beating as my Merrell boots.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Wireless Camp
It's true. Wireless, in the campsite, via someone elses shared wireless connection. It is a better world after all.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
It's About the Weather ...
When you have it this good, it's hard to complain. Rumour has it that it will cool down on Friday -- to 70. Drag. Another rumour is that there is a bike ride scheduled this afternoon with the happy hiking guy.
Anyway, I went out for a short hike from the campground this morning. Turned into about 6 miles including the Blevins loop and the Wind Cave trails. Very cool.
Morning sun moonscape.
This bee hive at the top of the wind cave trail.
And all these (22) people going up to look at them.
Blevins trail with the Superstitions in the distance.
Anyway, I went out for a short hike from the campground this morning. Turned into about 6 miles including the Blevins loop and the Wind Cave trails. Very cool.
Morning sun moonscape.
This bee hive at the top of the wind cave trail.
And all these (22) people going up to look at them.
Blevins trail with the Superstitions in the distance.
Desert Check
Outerwear? Oh, you know -- shorts and a t-shirt.
ummm ... 6 liters of water, raincoat, long johns, wool hat, first aid kit with ice pack, map, compass, gps, headlamp, flashlight, light stick, batteries, gatorade, margarita power bloks. Outerwear.
That's the Pass Mountain in the background ...
What is this bird?
Phoenix's brown cloud oozes toward me -- threateningly.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Condor Sighting
I did want to mention that on my trip to the Pinnacles, I did see a California Condor. I just saw it briefly ... mmm ... so there are no pictures.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Saturday, November 10, 2007
The Balconies Cave -- Pinnacles National Monument
From the exit of the cave looking in.
That'a me just inside the cave. Lighting is artificial.
That's a bat, I think.
The gate at the start of the cave so they can lock people out when the bats are breeding.
In the cave.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
When it Started ...
That's me. Years ago. On a trip to Joshua Tree -- then a National Monument. My old boots were new. My friend during grad school had insisted that I go to Joshua Tree and learn something about the desert. She was from the desert and liked it, and I was going to like it too, or at least learn something about it.
So off we went. Me -- younger -- in love, and quite naive about the desert. She was in her prime, and in her element. Miles of desert fell before our willing feet -- it was gloriously hot. Sweat and dust and bottles of water and a Wagoneer. Wild, sweaty lovemaking and the sound of a cactus wren. The smog sweeping in from Los Angeles, and her chiding me for having never been there, really. We chased phainopepla and the elusive desert tortoise and talked of Edward Abbey and Terry Tempest Williams, and post modernism. We showered in the noon sun under a hand pump in the Cottonwood Springs campground. Our first resemblence of running water in many days. Ocotillo, and Cholla, and Oases.
Fighter jets flew below us as we looked down from the higher altitudes of Joshua Tree.
She's responsible, actually. It's her fault. There's an old Polaroid of her in a scrapbook, dressed up to go for a beer and a burger in town -- standing in that desert in a white dress, the wind blowing, entangling her. A dichotomy of the desert's beauty. The Mohave. White skirts and cactus. Austere, lean and sharp. Gorgeous. She started all this for me. Leading me to the well. This desire to be in the desert. The pleasure at its insanity. A chameleon scrambling across the hot desert sand, invisible.
I'll be retuning to the desert for a bit. Contemplating a permanent return. I am growing tired of smog and potholes and fog and cold, and crowded 4 star restaurants, rock concerts and the opera. Go figure. It would be nice to see the coyotes in the firelight, or just hear them squeal with delight as the moon approaches.
Friday, November 2, 2007
The House of ...
... hmmm™ ... contortion. Stopped by the House of Pain™ for a little breakfast workout. I managed to get past the overhang on the curiouser and curiouser route mentioned the other day; I was dreaming about the route the other night, which is odd. Dreaming about climbing, who would have ever imagined. Perhaps that is why it was possible.
Once you've conquered an obstacle like that it seems anti-climactic to just climb up a flat wall, even if it's a 5.9 route. So I didn't do it. I hung there on the wall looking spent. I was spent.
I rested, watered and .. then tried the overhang on the Hamachi route. ... It's dicey and ... well ... maybe next time.
Once you've conquered an obstacle like that it seems anti-climactic to just climb up a flat wall, even if it's a 5.9 route. So I didn't do it. I hung there on the wall looking spent. I was spent.
I rested, watered and .. then tried the overhang on the Hamachi route. ... It's dicey and ... well ... maybe next time.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
¡Ouch!
I went to the climbing gym, and was working on an highly overhanging route called "Curiouser and Curiouser" and drat -- I found that I also have hamstrings and adductors, rather than just the quads I used to have. And guess what else?
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Earthquake
We had a moderate earthquake today, that I guess might have made the national news. A 5.6 quake centered in the south bay about 20 miles from my house.
It seems everyone is ok.
It seems everyone is ok.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
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Shinumo Falls
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Shelley Lake, Jack Dykinga, Jeff Foott and Wendy Palmer at Shinumo Falls in the Grand Canyon, 2 years ago. Wendy took this.
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