On top of the world

My life is never stagnant or boring, but at times, I do tend to overbook myself, and at times like that, I have to slow down for a moment and take a good look at my priorities. Work has taken up a great deal of my time lately, working 10+ hour days in order to get as much done on my projects as possible before my first committee meeting, a lab meeting presentation, and a presentation at a colloquium in the coming weeks. So, it's only fair that after working hard all week, that I put life in the balance by playing hard again. (Oh, and my ultimate team did win again in a hard fought game against Beef Jerky, another Thursday team, woohoo!)

I spent Friday night relaxing as much as I could before what I knew was going to be a full weekend. On Saturday morning, I dug out the old Wonderwoman costume and tweaked it a bit to make it look more like a 70s/80s era dancer. I'm not sure that I really succeeded, but the combo of the skirt, belt, armbands, an old shiny top, rugby socks, and bandanna were funny looking anyways, which was sort of the point. Then, much to the confusion of the elderly neighbors who were raking their yard, I biked into Tempe wearing the strange garb, where I was greeted by several of my friends who looked just as good. The original theme we were going with was "Solid Gold" dancers, but some of us didn't quite get the memo. Nonetheless, we made quite the scene for Tempe's Tour de Fat. New Belgium Brewery sponsors these tours around the U.S. to promote bicycle advocacy and tasty brew. Although we missed the bike parade, we made up our own. Up and down Mill Avenue, the dozen or so of us ultimate players decked out in our outrageous costumes sang and danced and rode along to Dixon's music that blared out of his self-proclaimed "tricked-out trike." There's always some kind of funny crowd around Mill, and it was uniquely satisfying to be one of them on Saturday. We got back to Tempe Beach Park as the parade ended and the beer started flowing. The atmosphere was infectious. I'm not that much of a hippy, but it was a great festival for the just cause of getting more cars off the streets and more people on bikes. We drank some good hoppy beer and hopped around to the live band, played a bit of frisbee and watched people try out the custom bicycles that New Belgium had brought along. My favorite was a bike that had tennis shoes on the ends of reinforced spokes as opposed to wheels. You had to see it to believe it. I left a bit early in order to get ready for the next installment of the weekend.



I rode home with less reservations than when I biked into town, changed, did some quick packing, and loaded up my camping and hiking gear into fellow Come from Behinder, Ted's, Ford Ranger to head out to Four Peaks. Not the Four Peaks on 8th Street. The real thing... not the brewery, the MOUNTAIN. The mountain that mocks me every morning and evening as I cross the bridge over Tempe Town Lake. The tallest point in Maricopa County and one of the most recognizable peaks east of the Valley. We drove an hour outside of the city and then turned off at a dirt road just past Bush Highway. For 18 dusty, bumpy miles, Ted and I sang along to the soundtrack of classic rock, windows down and eyes dividing their time between the twisting road and the beautiful peaks that beckoned us to their base. After we arrived at the shoulder of the mountain, we took stock of our surroundings - the ubiquitous scrub oak, some tall pines, a few boulders scattered around, and a perfect little camping spot near the truck. Ted set up the tent while I got a small fire crackling safely inside a large fire pit of rocks. After camp was set, we both took the time to enjoy the beauty of the sun setting behind the Estrellas on the far west side of the Valley, not quite a hundred miles away. We paid our respects to the mountain and cheered to a successful expedition with some 8th Street Ale and a fire-warmed can of ravioli. Although there was a chill in the air at the higher elevation, the fire and good stories that we shared kept us warm. Ted is a great guy, and we swapped tales of past adventures and reinforced the notion that life is not about "stuff." Life is about experiences and the people with which you share those stories. I love listening to and telling stories, and can imagine myself someday surrounded by grandchildren who won't go to bed because they want to hear just one more of grandma's crazy stories. But, that's a looooong time from now, and is kind of funny to think about, so for now, I'm very satisfied sharing them with Ted at the base of Four Peaks. The combination of a high desert full of stars and the mesmerizing effects of the flames had us sleepy before too long, and we were asleep by 10.



The next morning we were up with the sun for a few good pictures before gathering our gear, scarfing down a half-frozen candy bar (it was down in the mid-forties), and hitting the trail. The first mile or so got us well above the parking lot, and started to give us a commanding view of both the Valley to the west and Lake Roosevelt to the east depending on which way we were switchbacking. As we walked along, the ridge kaleidoscoped from dark green pines to burned areas filled with tall blackened remains, to gray scrub, to dwarfed white oak trees decked out in all their fall glory of orange and yellow. The sights and scents were a feast for my autumn starved senses. A few miles into the trek, the forest along the ridge opened up to the full sun that burned off the morning chill. We stopped for a bit at the saddle to savor my first close-up look at Brown's Peak, the first and tallest of the four. After a short break, we started the climb up the mountain proper. After a half mile of minor switchbacks and walking along small ledges, we arrived at the infamous (to us at least) scree shoot. The scree shoot is a narrow cleft in the mountain where rocks and boulders have fallen down over the years, creating a fairly easy route up the granite peak. Twenty minutes of scrambling later, we reached the end of the scree shoot and climbed over the last few boulders to the top, where we were rewarded with the best view of the Valley that I have ever seen. Everything from Lake Roosevelt to the east, Superstitions to the southeast, South Mountain and the Estrellas to the south, White Tanks to the west, McDowell's to the north, and Camelback and Squaw Peak thrown in there among the puzzle pieces of developed land. We rested at the top enough to share an 8th Street Ale and a Clif Bar, and then started down the south side. We fought our way through scratchy scrub oak and cacti for a bit until I got tired of tearing up my legs, after which I chose to take my chances climbing down the steep walls. Ted wasn't as gutsy, and decided to brave the scrub. Even though I took my time carefully choosing my route, I still got to the bottom of the peak 10 minutes before Ted and had time to take in my surroundings. We were only 50 miles from Tempe, yet we were a world away in the wilds of the Four Peaks Wilderness. Canyon wrens set the soundtrack while smells of dust and pine floated up on the breeze from the valley. Ted caught up, and we continued on to Peak #2. The next part of the hike took a fair bit of scouting, and Ted was happy to let me lead. It was exhilarating to pick a route up the walls, climb it, and then focus on the next part of the mountain. Several hundred feet later, we reached the false summit, and nimbly scrambled along the narrow ridgeline to the true summit. The second peak is almost as tall as the first, and has just as good of a view. We signed our names in the register at the top and also had a few sips of the Four Peaks IPA that Ted brought as well. After another short rest and a little celebration for making it that far (Ted has been to the mountain four times, and had not made the 2nd peak up until then), we scrambled to the southern side of the mountain top and attempted to scout out the route to the third peak. The distance between the 2nd and 3rd is by far the greatest among the four peaks, and the steepness of the route is also the greatest. We tried several routes that seemed to be promising, only to come to the edge of a cliff that could not be traversed without ropes and more advanced climbing skills than we had. We spent about an hour trying to find a route before we inevitably had to turn around due to time constraints at about 1 p.m. Even though we didn't make the "mother lode," we were satisfied with what we had done, and turned around without too much remorse.



The return trip was more relaxed but just as exciting as the first part of the climb. Since I had already found the routes, we both had more confidence with the climbing, and I spent a good deal of my time playing around on the boulders and scraggy walls. We stopped several times to enjoy the view and just talk about other adventures. We even got to act like Les Stroud (Survirorman) and ate manzanita berries (kinda dry, but sweet) and made a needle and thread with an agave leaf. Lots of fun. Before we knew it though, we had scaled the last wall back over Brown's Peak and were headed back through the scree shoot. We spent the last remaining part of the hike just taking in the scenery of the changing colors as we made our way back to the truck. It took us 9 hours (including the many breaks that we took) to hike to the 2nd peak and back, and by the time we broke down camp and started back on the long and winding dirt road, we were dead tired. We finally got back in Tempe around 6 in the evening, and I had just enough enough energy to shower, change into some sweats, grab a bite to eat, and pass out on the couch.

It's going to be a long month and a half ahead of me with lots of hard work in the many aspects of my life, but it was nice to spend a bit of time with a fellow adventurer on top of the world, or at least on top of our little world here in the Valley.