One Sunday a month in the South Mountain Preserve is set aside as a Silent Sunday. No motorized traffic is allowed in the majority of the park, and thus, the noise of cars and motorcycles buzzing around is eliminated and replaced with... well, nothing. After a full, busy two weeks running around in the hustle and bustle and noise of life, it was nice to have a silent Sunday. After five miles along the Desert Classic trail, I was deep within the preserve. I stopped underneath a small mesquite tree to get a bit of shade, and as I set my bike down to get some water from my pack, I noticed the stillness and the silence around me. No noise - no horns blaring in traffic jams, no machines throbbing in the background, no television, no phones, no iPod. No bugs flying around, no lizards darting from rock to rock, no havelinas rooting around in the sand, not even a wind to stir the dried leaves on the ocotillo. Complete silence. A beautiful nothingness. A brilliant contrast from the normal course of existence in the Valley.
After the past two weeks, the silence was definitely well appreciated. Last weekend was spent up in Flagstaff for a 10s rugby tournament. Although 10s is not as fast paced as 7s, it is definitely more fun (as a back) than 15s, and the Scottsdale Lady Blues faired very well against all comers. I played a bit of outside center and fullback, got a few trys, and had a great time mucking about in the muddy fields (it was cold and rainy in Flag, but it was a nice change from dry, hot Phoenix). Out of the five games, we only let two trys get past us (one was completely my fault... ooops), and scored hundreds of points. We won the tourney, and won the rugby party as well by dressing up as American Gladiators.
The week itself went well with lots of promising results in the lab and plenty of time spent in the subbasement working on the electron microscopy project. On Tuesday, Angel, Kelly, Kohl, and I went to the Dave Matthews concert. He plays amazing live shows, and this one was no exception with an almost full moon rising behind the stage. Unfortunately, as I was being mesmerized by the incredible instrumentation and energy of Dave and Co., Come From Behind (my ultimate team) was being mesmerized by the hucks of Filthy McNasty. We're now 1-2 for the season. Ouch.
On Saturday after watching the Boilers demolish the Faulterin' Irish of that school from South Bend, Jeff and I made a road trip out to Western New Mexico. Schnepf Farms is actually in Queen Creek, but it was a road trip down there. Well worth it though, as it was the site of EdgeFest 2007, one of the Valley's best music festivals. Jeff knows almost all of the local bands, and his friends include various promoters and all the staff at Crabby Don's - the bar that was catering the event, so we got backstage passes, VIP, the whole works. It was amazing. We hung out with all of the local bands, talked to The Plain White Ts, had (free) lunch with The Bravery, and drank lots of free drinks. The music and energy in the place was just incredible. The band lineup itself was amazing - from two of my now favorite local bands, Comfort for Change and Vistalance, to the main stage acts of Hot Hot Heat, The Bravery, Flyleaf, Plain White Ts, Jimmy Eat World, Social Distortion, and Bad Religion. As a VIP, we got to stand practically onstage for these awesome acts. I had wanted to see basically every band that played the mainstage, so I was in heaven. Jimmy played every song that I wanted to hear, and had a great show back in their homeland (they're from Mesa). For Social Distortion and Bad Religion, Jeff and I gave up our cushy spots at the front of the VIP section to join the craziness going on down below in the melee of the crowd. We put our energy drinks to the test as we hopped around in the mosh pits and crowd surfed to our heart's content. You couldn't wipe the smiles off of our faces as we soaked up the incredible energy. Totally natural, crazy high... no drugs needed, just music and good people. I think that was the most fun I've ever had at a single concert, and that's saying something for me. Afterwards, we crammed half of the crowd into my Jeep (ok, just 6 of us, but it seemed like a lot more) to head to the afterparty at Crabby Don's. Again, lots of funloving people and a few more bands. I didn't partake too much in the free alcohol that abounded, but chose to just bask in the ambiance and chill with some good friends for the rest of the night/morning. When I finally headed home, I was smiling from ear to ringing ear with hundreds of good memories of EdgeFest 2007.
Sunday morning and early afternoon were spent watching the Bears and Colts at BW3s with a few friends (and some enemies who were rooting for the other teams). The Bears don't seem to do well with or without the Gross-man, but at least the Colts won :). After we'd had our fill of football and wings, I headed out to South Mountain to get in at least a little bit of adventure for the weekend. My original goal was to take Mormon out and National back, but the temperature was still hovering just under 100 degrees, and the lack of sleep and electrolytes had me thinking otherwise. So, I opted to do something else that I had wanted to do for a long time. I finally rode the entire length of Desert Classic. After riding out in Flagstaff and Prescott, the DC was a piece of cake. After I got past the water tank, I didn't see another biker, hiker, or horse for at least 3 miles. Alone, with just me, my bike, and the still desert around me. In the valleys of the foothills, I might as well have been deep within the Sonoran Desert as opposed to the middle of Phoenix. All I could hear was the rattling of my chain as I changed gears and my rattled breath as I charged up the hills. The beauty of the silence and solitude was invigorating, and my despite my fatigued state, I rolled along the hot, curving singletrack with bright eyes and a happy heart. Finally, after nine miles, I crested a hill and looked down into Ahwatukee - houses and palms trees and roads and telephone lines. Distinct from the rest of the ride filled with saguaros and mesquite, I knew that the trail was over, and I zipped down the last of the foothills onto a suburban street, feeling the wind rush past me as I let gravity take me down to Chandler Blvd. Without the trail to keep me entertained, I slogged the last ten miles on the road and went home for some well earned barbecued ribs. After a wonderful weekend of life in the balance between rocking and reflecting, I'm ready to tackle the week ahead.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Lure of the Ocean
The ocean is a special, magical place, escpecially when viewed from three feet above the water for several weeks, as any one of the 300 odd ocean rowers can tell you. And in addition to the ocean, the American Fire is a special, magical team. I was reminded of this last night when the three of us were back together again down in Awhatukee. There really is something about Kohl, the boat, and myself that I just can't explain. We've been through a lot... when we met for the first time on a beach in Toledo, we were not even contemplating buying her, but when we took the oars for the first time, we knew that there was a connection. Then, when we brought her "home" to Eagle Creek Reservoir a few short months later, we celebrated by rowing her all over the lake and sharing our beer and Doritos with her (by accidently spilling them all over) during our first night onboard. From the wind on Lake Michigan without a rudder, to the swift current and muddy waters of the Wabash River, to the million dollar houses surrounding Walloon Lake. From long road trips with her in the rusty van to 90 days and one million memories of Intercoastal Waterway, Biscayne Bay, and the Atlantic Ocean down in Florida. And then, after all that work and a year and a half together, setting off on the adventure of a lifetime. Fourty-six days of beauty, wonder, stars, storms, and the most magnificent sunrises you have ever witnessed.
I've heard a saying before, I don't remember if it was Maori or Native American, but I wish I had written it down, though. Basically it says that if you experience a near-death situation with someone, you become forever a part of each other and must do all that you can to make sure that they stay alive and well from then on. And despite all of the things that have gone on since that fateful Sunday, I still understand that. Last night out in the foothills of the South Mountains, I remembered why. It was just the three of us and the quiet comfort a clear night filled with stars and a half-full moon. I can't explain it, so I won't attempt to, but there is just a comfort and magic knowing what we've been through and the fact that we're still romping around this crazy planet.
It doesn't help that I got a call from Simon Chalk two days ago. When the 12 digit number from England showed up on my phone, I wasn't sure what to think, but after a 10 minute conversation, I was even less sure. I have a great life right now... I love my job, I love my classes, I love the adventures that I've got coming up here in Arizona, I'm having a lot of fun with ultimate and rugby, I've got great friends, my family is doing great, and just overall, I'm a very happy kid. But, a dream deferred is a tough thing to always have in the back of your mind, and you don't realize just how powerful it is until you've been given a chance to get back out there. The next ocean rowing race is just over two months away, and Simon gave us the option of putting together a 4s team or a pairs team, with both boats just about ready to go and with "minimal" costs (this still means many thousands of dollars in ocean rowing). It would be a long shot... I've just begun putting together my PhD committee and I have a very stable, low stress, life for once in my life. But I realize that deep down, I would defer those dreams for the shot at fulfilling another. I will not be satisfied until I do.
We haven't committed, just merely asked for more information, and are still digesting the idea that Simon has planted in our heads. The idea may remain just that, but the mere thought that I would risk my current life that I love for another life that I may love even more just shows the powers of a dream and the spell that the ocean holds over me. As we were leaving the boat last night, I accidently kicked the trailer in the dark at the bow of the boat, and blood started to trickle down the center of my left foot. When I got home, I cleaned it up, and noticed that the new cut is directly overtop of the scar that the boat gave me back in 2005 when we beached her. As much pain and suffering that the three of us have put each other through, we're still all a part of each other, and the lure of the ocean affects us all the same.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Welcome, Fall!
Yesterday morning I got up and rode my bike to work at 7:30 a.m. As soon as I opened the door, I could feel the change in the seasons. The normal blast of heat that usually greets me was missing, and as I started down the street, I could feel a faint (albeit very faint) chill to the air that brushed past me as I picked up speed. It even smelled different... not of anything in particular, but the lack of cooking asphalt odors was certainly a welcome change. I worked until 6 at night, so didn't really get to test the heat of the day, and decided that the cool morning was a result of my going in to work early, not because of any shift in the weather. So, this morning when I opened up the door to the same cool air at 8:30, I was pleasantly surprised. I rode the two miles into campus without sweat soaking into my clothes, and actually enjoyed the ride for once in a long time - taking time to notice the wind dancing on the lake with Four Peaks watching over the whole scene from the east. It REALLY IS cooler out. It JUST MIGHT be the beginning of the fall here in Phoenix. I'm not sure how long it will last, but it is most certainly welcome.
Especially after this weekend. What the weekend lacked in adventure, it made up for with sport and good friends. Friday night was spent honing my (lack of) skills in Guitar Hero and chowing down on pregame pasta at Suda's before a good night's sleep. Then it was up early on Saturday to line the pitch for our rugby game. It broke 100 degrees sometime while I was driving over at 9 a.m. Dry heat or not, it was HOT. For two hours we prepared the field, though it wasn't all boring - Kohl and I managed to break one of the spray paint cans used to paint the lines on the field, and by the time we were done, we had more paint on ourselves than the field, and Kohl even had a good portion in her mouth :). By the time we got around to running a few plays and drills, the sun was high in the sky without a cloud in sight. When the game started at 11, the water was almost boiling in our water bottles. Since I primarily play sevens rugby, and since I'm as much of a rookie as they come for 15s, I was pretty much there just to fill-in in the event that the team needed extra bodies. So, for the first half of the game, Kelly and I ran around as touch judges and tried to find shade along the sidelines, while the 30 on field ran around and tried to play rugby in the hellish conditions. We played the Surfers of San Diego (a perennially strong rugby club), and had decided that the heat would be in our favor since San Diego is "72 and sunny" year round, and we would be more adapted to the heat. I don't care how you look at it, you can't adapt to the fires of hell, and certainly not when you're running around hitting people while wearing heavy cotton jerseys. Even the lizards and snakes don't go around beating the crap out of each other at high noon. Anyways, I was more than happy to just watch. The game started out well enough, with the Lady Blues scoring the first try, but things went downhill from there. I went in for a bit in the second half, but as the weak side wing, didn't really do a whole lot. Like an outfielder, the wings are either the heroes or the scapegoats, and for the time that I played, I was neither. I tackled a few girls without letting them get to the sideline and ran along on offense, but overall, I just got sweaty and came out again when the girl that I had come in for had enjoyed a bit of rest (she was lucky, there were only three of us subs). By the end of the game, we looked a lot worse for wear and came out of it 19 - 49 and looking like we had just been through a boiling washing machine - hot, wet, bruised, and weary. Not the best way to start the season, but as I said, I'm only sticking around until adventure racing season really kicks in, so it was no skin off of my back. Plus, the social afterwards is fun win or lose. We enjoyed cold food and plenty of drinks, several traditional rugby songs and my fair share of rookie embarrassment (nothing too bad fortunately) until late in the afternoon. After a shower and a bit of rest, the evening was spent watching the men's game against the ASU team. It was much cooler after the sun went down, and quite enjoyable for all involved (except maybe ASU... they didn't score until the B-side game).
Sunday was the most nonathletic, unadventurous day that I have had in a very, very long time. I didn't even go outside except for a bit of yardwork early in the morning. I figured that I had done enough in the Phoenix sun for one weekend, and I didn't feel the need to put myself through that again for awhile. Despite the lack of adventure, I had a very good day. The morning was spent cleaning around the house and watching football. The Colts won, and shortly afterwards, several of my friends and coworkers started showing up to prepare food and decorations for another coworker, Namrata's, surprise baby shower. When Namrata arrived around 3, she thought that she was attending my housewarming party and she hadn't the faintest clue that we had been planning this for months... we really surprised her well, and the expression on her face when she walked in the door was priceless. For the rest of the day we ate some amazing Indian food, played games, watched Namrata open dozens of presents, and played with Michelle's five month old, Lela, who is growing in leaps and bounds every day. I'm not sure if she's going to be a rower (she has really strong legs), a soccer player (she loves to kick), or a basketball player (she can grip a balloon like it's her job), but if I babysit her enough, I'll try to turn her into a rower. She also didn't mind sitting on my bike, so we'll see... Anyways, it was a great afternoon, and Namrata was overjoyed with the surprise, so very successful overall. I was worn out by the end of it though (playing with babies is a tough job), and ended the weekend by falling asleep on the couch as the eastern winds began bringing the cooler air into the Valley to start off the week.
Hopefully the cold front will stick around at least until this evening so we can celebrate a win for Come From Behind, my co-ed ultimate frisbee team, while celebrating the coming of autumn. It is the Fall League afterall...
Especially after this weekend. What the weekend lacked in adventure, it made up for with sport and good friends. Friday night was spent honing my (lack of) skills in Guitar Hero and chowing down on pregame pasta at Suda's before a good night's sleep. Then it was up early on Saturday to line the pitch for our rugby game. It broke 100 degrees sometime while I was driving over at 9 a.m. Dry heat or not, it was HOT. For two hours we prepared the field, though it wasn't all boring - Kohl and I managed to break one of the spray paint cans used to paint the lines on the field, and by the time we were done, we had more paint on ourselves than the field, and Kohl even had a good portion in her mouth :). By the time we got around to running a few plays and drills, the sun was high in the sky without a cloud in sight. When the game started at 11, the water was almost boiling in our water bottles. Since I primarily play sevens rugby, and since I'm as much of a rookie as they come for 15s, I was pretty much there just to fill-in in the event that the team needed extra bodies. So, for the first half of the game, Kelly and I ran around as touch judges and tried to find shade along the sidelines, while the 30 on field ran around and tried to play rugby in the hellish conditions. We played the Surfers of San Diego (a perennially strong rugby club), and had decided that the heat would be in our favor since San Diego is "72 and sunny" year round, and we would be more adapted to the heat. I don't care how you look at it, you can't adapt to the fires of hell, and certainly not when you're running around hitting people while wearing heavy cotton jerseys. Even the lizards and snakes don't go around beating the crap out of each other at high noon. Anyways, I was more than happy to just watch. The game started out well enough, with the Lady Blues scoring the first try, but things went downhill from there. I went in for a bit in the second half, but as the weak side wing, didn't really do a whole lot. Like an outfielder, the wings are either the heroes or the scapegoats, and for the time that I played, I was neither. I tackled a few girls without letting them get to the sideline and ran along on offense, but overall, I just got sweaty and came out again when the girl that I had come in for had enjoyed a bit of rest (she was lucky, there were only three of us subs). By the end of the game, we looked a lot worse for wear and came out of it 19 - 49 and looking like we had just been through a boiling washing machine - hot, wet, bruised, and weary. Not the best way to start the season, but as I said, I'm only sticking around until adventure racing season really kicks in, so it was no skin off of my back. Plus, the social afterwards is fun win or lose. We enjoyed cold food and plenty of drinks, several traditional rugby songs and my fair share of rookie embarrassment (nothing too bad fortunately) until late in the afternoon. After a shower and a bit of rest, the evening was spent watching the men's game against the ASU team. It was much cooler after the sun went down, and quite enjoyable for all involved (except maybe ASU... they didn't score until the B-side game).
Sunday was the most nonathletic, unadventurous day that I have had in a very, very long time. I didn't even go outside except for a bit of yardwork early in the morning. I figured that I had done enough in the Phoenix sun for one weekend, and I didn't feel the need to put myself through that again for awhile. Despite the lack of adventure, I had a very good day. The morning was spent cleaning around the house and watching football. The Colts won, and shortly afterwards, several of my friends and coworkers started showing up to prepare food and decorations for another coworker, Namrata's, surprise baby shower. When Namrata arrived around 3, she thought that she was attending my housewarming party and she hadn't the faintest clue that we had been planning this for months... we really surprised her well, and the expression on her face when she walked in the door was priceless. For the rest of the day we ate some amazing Indian food, played games, watched Namrata open dozens of presents, and played with Michelle's five month old, Lela, who is growing in leaps and bounds every day. I'm not sure if she's going to be a rower (she has really strong legs), a soccer player (she loves to kick), or a basketball player (she can grip a balloon like it's her job), but if I babysit her enough, I'll try to turn her into a rower. She also didn't mind sitting on my bike, so we'll see... Anyways, it was a great afternoon, and Namrata was overjoyed with the surprise, so very successful overall. I was worn out by the end of it though (playing with babies is a tough job), and ended the weekend by falling asleep on the couch as the eastern winds began bringing the cooler air into the Valley to start off the week.
Hopefully the cold front will stick around at least until this evening so we can celebrate a win for Come From Behind, my co-ed ultimate frisbee team, while celebrating the coming of autumn. It is the Fall League afterall...
Monday, September 10, 2007
So long, sweet summer
The beginning of fall back in the Midwest is one of my favorite times of the year (second only to the beginning of spring). It's the time when the hot, humid summer gives way to the cool, breezy autumn. The sun filters through the changing colors of the leaves on the maples and ash trees, following the trend that the poplars started in early August. The dried corn stalks rustle in the wind as they prepare for harvest and the squirrels busy themselves with making nests for the coming frosts. The breeze brings with it smells of dust and dry earth and smoke from the first bonfires of the season, started in the early evening to ward off a chill and the last of the mosquitoes.
But, we don't get things like that here in Phoenix, and it won't cool down until Halloween, so we have to go and find the fall, which is exactly what a few of us Phoenicians did this weekend.
Friday evening, Jeff and I spent happy hour at a little bar near campus that serves $2 Coronas and plays awesome indie music. We sat on the massive porch underneath some ash trees (which are sort of trying to change color) basking in the ambiance, and inviting friends that walked by to come and share a round. Happy hour came and went, and by 9 p.m., I had spent $20 on Coronas (you do the math). I said goodbye to the table full of friends that had gathered and carefully biked myself home before passing out in anticipation of a full weekend.
I woke early in the morning feeling ok, and headed up to Angel's where she and Bill were waiting for me. We loaded the bikes in the back of his truck and headed back to Prescott. Since we had had such an amazing time the previous weekend, we decided to try a different trail. We passed the time with my story of Atlantic rowing... Bill (a pretty risky outdoorsman) was impressed. After an hour and a half of driving, we turned off near Lynx Lake and made our way to the trailhead for Trail 305. Bill had tried the trail last Sunday, and said that it was awesome, so Angel and I wanted to try it for ourselves. It certainly did not disappoint. The first few miles crossed several roads through the campground, gradually gaining elevation through a series of twists, turns, and rolling hills. Once we got through the campground, the rocks disappeared and the trail wound along narrow ridges giving a technical feel to the otherwise smooth trail. Like our own personal rollercoaster, the trail dipped and switchbacked for seven gorgeous miles through pine forest broken up by patches of Indian paintbrush and wild snapdragons. At the end of the trail, we paused to enjoy our surroundings and share more adventure stories. In the words of Jimmy Buffett, Bill has lived "an interesting life," and I'll just keep it at that. Good stories though. If the trail out was fun, the trail back was incredible. On the way back, I decided that the 305 was my favorite biking trail so far. The trail gains about 1000 feet of elevation on the way out, which means that the way back drops the same. Our own personal rollercoaster. Dip, dive, try to stay on your bike, curve around, miss a tree, jump a root, grip your handlebars as you speed down the ridge, get to the bottom, and laugh out loud at the joy of it all. Seven miles in heaven. We didn't want to stop at the end, and I would have happily rode around all day on that trail. We went into town for lunch, and even though we went to a really nice, historic little restaurant, my stomach and I got in a fight. I don't know whether it was the Coronas from the night before, the salad that I started my meal with, or my predisposition with the Big 10 football that was on the screens in the bar, but my stomach was not happy, and it wasn't being tactful in letting me know. I took my food home in a box (this very rarely happens) and spent the return drive in a fog lingering between listening to my belly and not listening to Bill (while Angel slept in the back of the cab). Fortunately, by the evening I was feeling better, and I spent it vegging on the couch and eating the rest of my lunch.
On Sunday, we gave Hannah one last Arizona Sunday of freedom before the wedding. Since she had not yet been to Bell Trail and since Angel and I had had so much fun there last weekend, we decided to tackle the place as Team ODP. On the drive up, we came up with nicknames for each of us within our adventure racing team. The names are strictly confidential, but I will say that they'll give us plenty of things to laugh about when we're exhausted and 15 hours into a 24 hour race. The hike in was much more enjoyable than the previous weekend's bike, and Hannah spent it much as I thought she would - taking pictures (which I appreciate). We trail ran a little bit (have to get a little training in, right?) and got to the swimming hole in no time. I dove quickly into the breathtaking water, and promptly lost my watch in the 10' deep pool. Fortunately the sun was high and the water was clear, and after about 10 minutes of Angel and I diving to the bottom, I found it and resumed my playing (many of Hannah's pictures at this point show Angel and I just staring into the water). We climbed, jumped, and dove for some time, letting Hannah enjoy the playground before we got a little restless and decided to explore upstream. Like Havasu and Fossil Creek before it, Beaver Creek had little surprises around every corner. Whether it was a watersnake (or 4), a large red sandstone outcropping, bright flowers, caves in the sandstone, rushing rapids filled with boulders, or a calm reflective pool, the stream kept us intrigued for about a mile. You could feel the whisper of fall upon the air as we made our way through a maze of small trees along the banks, crunching on newly fa
llen leaves and smelling the changing seasons in the breeze. After about an hour of "looking to see what was just around the corner," we headed back to the swimming hole, where recess was in full swing in the adult world. The nice part about the area is that it is 4 miles from the parking lot (as well as on the wrong side of Sedona), and it sort of filters out the lazy, drunk, obnoxious crowd, and invites the young, crazy, exploring types who just want to have a good time. Among our playmates were fellow climbers and jumpers, and like young kids on the playground, when we saw that someone was doing something fun, we wanted to try it as well. The entire place was diving and climbing and jumping, and one adventurous guy even set up a slackrope across one of the pools. Although the three of us didn't get to try it, it sure did look like a fun challenge. After we were all played out, we sat on the warm red ledges and just reflected on the wonder of it all. I am such a lucky kid that I get to experience things like this, and even more fortunate to have friends as crazy as myself who enjoy it as well. It was getting late in the day, so after one or two more jumps, we packed up our stuff and headed back to the car. I cut open a prickly pear for Hannah to try, and ended up getting a whole bunch of prickles in my hand (that weren't so welcome as I sleepily tried to tweeze them out when they started bothering me at about 3 in the morning), but it did taste good. When we were almost back to the car, we heard 
people down at the creek and wondered if there was anything interesting down at that part of the stream, so we bushwacked down to investigate. We were aptly rewarded with a stretch of creek as beautiful as Slide Rock (Sedona) without all of the people. For hundreds of feet, the red rock of the streambed was carved into long chutes and bowls, creating perfect spots to slide in the rushing water. Once we thoroughly explored and played in the area, we finally headed back to the cars and started back to Phoenix. We were starving the entire ride home, and Hannah didn't help by letting us know how Tom was fixing dinner that would be ready when she arrived. When I finally got home, I made dinner and ended the fabulous weekend by watching an episode of Survirorman that took place in... where else but the Sonoran Desert. Now I know how to take a creosote bush shower, eat crickets, and make a needle and thread from agave. It may not be fall yet here in the Valley, but I know I'll survive with weekends like this.
But, we don't get things like that here in Phoenix, and it won't cool down until Halloween, so we have to go and find the fall, which is exactly what a few of us Phoenicians did this weekend.
Friday evening, Jeff and I spent happy hour at a little bar near campus that serves $2 Coronas and plays awesome indie music. We sat on the massive porch underneath some ash trees (which are sort of trying to change color) basking in the ambiance, and inviting friends that walked by to come and share a round. Happy hour came and went, and by 9 p.m., I had spent $20 on Coronas (you do the math). I said goodbye to the table full of friends that had gathered and carefully biked myself home before passing out in anticipation of a full weekend.
I woke early in the morning feeling ok, and headed up to Angel's where she and Bill were waiting for me. We loaded the bikes in the back of his truck and headed back to Prescott. Since we had had such an amazing time the previous weekend, we decided to try a different trail. We passed the time with my story of Atlantic rowing... Bill (a pretty risky outdoorsman) was impressed. After an hour and a half of driving, we turned off near Lynx Lake and made our way to the trailhead for Trail 305. Bill had tried the trail last Sunday, and said that it was awesome, so Angel and I wanted to try it for ourselves. It certainly did not disappoint. The first few miles crossed several roads through the campground, gradually gaining elevation through a series of twists, turns, and rolling hills. Once we got through the campground, the rocks disappeared and the trail wound along narrow ridges giving a technical feel to the otherwise smooth trail. Like our own personal rollercoaster, the trail dipped and switchbacked for seven gorgeous miles through pine forest broken up by patches of Indian paintbrush and wild snapdragons. At the end of the trail, we paused to enjoy our surroundings and share more adventure stories. In the words of Jimmy Buffett, Bill has lived "an interesting life," and I'll just keep it at that. Good stories though. If the trail out was fun, the trail back was incredible. On the way back, I decided that the 305 was my favorite biking trail so far. The trail gains about 1000 feet of elevation on the way out, which means that the way back drops the same. Our own personal rollercoaster. Dip, dive, try to stay on your bike, curve around, miss a tree, jump a root, grip your handlebars as you speed down the ridge, get to the bottom, and laugh out loud at the joy of it all. Seven miles in heaven. We didn't want to stop at the end, and I would have happily rode around all day on that trail. We went into town for lunch, and even though we went to a really nice, historic little restaurant, my stomach and I got in a fight. I don't know whether it was the Coronas from the night before, the salad that I started my meal with, or my predisposition with the Big 10 football that was on the screens in the bar, but my stomach was not happy, and it wasn't being tactful in letting me know. I took my food home in a box (this very rarely happens) and spent the return drive in a fog lingering between listening to my belly and not listening to Bill (while Angel slept in the back of the cab). Fortunately, by the evening I was feeling better, and I spent it vegging on the couch and eating the rest of my lunch.
On Sunday, we gave Hannah one last Arizona Sunday of freedom before the wedding. Since she had not yet been to Bell Trail and since Angel and I had had so much fun there last weekend, we decided to tackle the place as Team ODP. On the drive up, we came up with nicknames for each of us within our adventure racing team. The names are strictly confidential, but I will say that they'll give us plenty of things to laugh about when we're exhausted and 15 hours into a 24 hour race. The hike in was much more enjoyable than the previous weekend's bike, and Hannah spent it much as I thought she would - taking pictures (which I appreciate). We trail ran a little bit (have to get a little training in, right?) and got to the swimming hole in no time. I dove quickly into the breathtaking water, and promptly lost my watch in the 10' deep pool. Fortunately the sun was high and the water was clear, and after about 10 minutes of Angel and I diving to the bottom, I found it and resumed my playing (many of Hannah's pictures at this point show Angel and I just staring into the water). We climbed, jumped, and dove for some time, letting Hannah enjoy the playground before we got a little restless and decided to explore upstream. Like Havasu and Fossil Creek before it, Beaver Creek had little surprises around every corner. Whether it was a watersnake (or 4), a large red sandstone outcropping, bright flowers, caves in the sandstone, rushing rapids filled with boulders, or a calm reflective pool, the stream kept us intrigued for about a mile. You could feel the whisper of fall upon the air as we made our way through a maze of small trees along the banks, crunching on newly fa
llen leaves and smelling the changing seasons in the breeze. After about an hour of "looking to see what was just around the corner," we headed back to the swimming hole, where recess was in full swing in the adult world. The nice part about the area is that it is 4 miles from the parking lot (as well as on the wrong side of Sedona), and it sort of filters out the lazy, drunk, obnoxious crowd, and invites the young, crazy, exploring types who just want to have a good time. Among our playmates were fellow climbers and jumpers, and like young kids on the playground, when we saw that someone was doing something fun, we wanted to try it as well. The entire place was diving and climbing and jumping, and one adventurous guy even set up a slackrope across one of the pools. Although the three of us didn't get to try it, it sure did look like a fun challenge. After we were all played out, we sat on the warm red ledges and just reflected on the wonder of it all. I am such a lucky kid that I get to experience things like this, and even more fortunate to have friends as crazy as myself who enjoy it as well. It was getting late in the day, so after one or two more jumps, we packed up our stuff and headed back to the car. I cut open a prickly pear for Hannah to try, and ended up getting a whole bunch of prickles in my hand (that weren't so welcome as I sleepily tried to tweeze them out when they started bothering me at about 3 in the morning), but it did taste good. When we were almost back to the car, we heard 
people down at the creek and wondered if there was anything interesting down at that part of the stream, so we bushwacked down to investigate. We were aptly rewarded with a stretch of creek as beautiful as Slide Rock (Sedona) without all of the people. For hundreds of feet, the red rock of the streambed was carved into long chutes and bowls, creating perfect spots to slide in the rushing water. Once we thoroughly explored and played in the area, we finally headed back to the cars and started back to Phoenix. We were starving the entire ride home, and Hannah didn't help by letting us know how Tom was fixing dinner that would be ready when she arrived. When I finally got home, I made dinner and ended the fabulous weekend by watching an episode of Survirorman that took place in... where else but the Sonoran Desert. Now I know how to take a creosote bush shower, eat crickets, and make a needle and thread from agave. It may not be fall yet here in the Valley, but I know I'll survive with weekends like this.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Integrity
I've done a lot of thinking about a lot of things over the course of the week, most of them revolving around integrity. Although I know I'm far from perfect, one of the things that I hold very dearly to is my integrity. I can lose everything in my life, but noone but myself can take that away from me unless I choose to compromise it. During my time here on this planet, I pretty much just want to have fun and help people along the way, and it makes me wonder about other people's motives sometimes and their lack of integrity.
First off, I'm dealing with the not coaching thing fairly well. Just as nature abhors a vacuum and tends to fill it in with stuff, my life abhors boredom and things like ultimate frisbee and adventure racing have filled in the space where coaching once stood. But, that doesn't stop me from thinking about coaching and what it means to me, which is why the ASU football situation bothers me. ASU hired a new football coach, Dennis Erikson, last year to replace their old coach, Dirk Koetter. The football program under Koetter had its own share of problems regarding NCAA violations and even a murder between players. Not the best of situations to say the least. So, when AD Lisa Love decided to fire the guy, I wasn't that surprised nor saddened (except that taxpayers, including myself, are still paying his million dollar salary). When she fired him, she could have started the ASU football program over with a fresh, clean, new beginning devoid of violations or lawsuits. But she didn't. She, along with Pres. Michael Crow, decided that money and success were more important than integrity, and they hired Erikson. Sure, he's won a handful of national championships and knows what he's doing as far as winning (though not of late), but the guy has been involved in numerous NCAA violations and basically led to the downfall of Miami football. He (along with his fellow assistant coaches) drank with players before big bowl games, allowed drug use to go rampant within his team, turned a blind eye to pay-for-play deals that rappers were giving his players, helped players to file bogus financial aid forms (and then later lied about it), and basically lacked any control of his team. And ASU bought the guy away from Idaho - where he had said that he would finish his career. But, supposedly, Erikson will help to increase ticket sales as our team gets more notoriety and "success." Last time I checked, the University was here to graduate students (including athletes) that will go on to represent ASU in a positive light. When we hire instructors (including coaches) who lack loyalty, discipline, and personal integrity, we cannot possibly expect our students to learn these qualities. To me, one of the most important jobs of a coach does not lie on the playing ground, it comes from the life lessons that are taught alongside the drills, sprints, and plays. Leadership, determination, work ethic, time management, integrity, and teamwork can only be taught with a leader that possesses those skills, and it makes me sad when I see that money, greed, and politics are more important than the true values in life. As a coach, mentor, and someday as a mother (not soon, no worries), I hope to instill these qualities in the younger generation so that they can live full, wholesome lives.
Another incident that I found disturbing revolves around the Phoenix Summit Challenge. Although I've never participated in the event myself, it sounds like an amazing way to challenge yourself within the Phoenix city limits. In 2005, Phoenix adventurer and REI employee Carla Olson created this event that spans seven of the highest summits in each of the city mountain preserves. Through her own ingenuity, hard work, and finances, she founded a highly successful and enjoyable event. Partnered with sponsors REI and the City of Phoenix, several hundred participants lined up to take part in the challenge in 2005. In 2006, the event filled to capacity within just a few hours of registration due to the success of the previous year's event. There were no injuries, and everything went very smoothly. It was a win-win situation for all involved: participants got a challenge (and some pretty sweet door prizes from what I hear), REI got some great exposure, the City got donations for its trails projects, and Carla got the satisfaction and pride that comes with organizing a successful event from its infancy to fruition. And then 2007 came around... and things got ugly. The City, seeing that the event was such a success, decided that they should be the ones controlling the event, and earning any consequent revenue that came from said event. So, they told Carla that they were not going to give her the permits to use the City preserves and said that they were in short, canceling the Phoenix Summit Challenge. Which would have been bad enough for such a successful program, but then they decided to host their own challenge and tried to file suit against Carla and her LLC for trademark issues and other irrelevant claims. In the City's "Phoenix Summit Challenge," they basically stole all of Carla's e-mail lists from the past events (under the guise of information needed by law for the litigation) as well as information straight from her website to use for their own challenge. So, for this year's challenge (which REI is not sponsoring, good for them), you have to sign up for a "class" (much like the City of Tempe rowing programs) online in order to participate in the hikes. Basically paying the City to use their trails to hike, and not much else - no door prizes, no dinner afterwards, no communal bond of hikers and adventurers to share in the joy of the event, because the city government has taken all the fun out of it with their greed and lack of integrity. For Carla's sake, I hope the City's event flops and she is able to put on the real event next year... because I want to participate, and I won't participate in something that the City stole.
But enough of that... many other fun things to think about. I'm headed back to beautiful Prescott this morning for some more mountain biking adventures. Have a good one!
First off, I'm dealing with the not coaching thing fairly well. Just as nature abhors a vacuum and tends to fill it in with stuff, my life abhors boredom and things like ultimate frisbee and adventure racing have filled in the space where coaching once stood. But, that doesn't stop me from thinking about coaching and what it means to me, which is why the ASU football situation bothers me. ASU hired a new football coach, Dennis Erikson, last year to replace their old coach, Dirk Koetter. The football program under Koetter had its own share of problems regarding NCAA violations and even a murder between players. Not the best of situations to say the least. So, when AD Lisa Love decided to fire the guy, I wasn't that surprised nor saddened (except that taxpayers, including myself, are still paying his million dollar salary). When she fired him, she could have started the ASU football program over with a fresh, clean, new beginning devoid of violations or lawsuits. But she didn't. She, along with Pres. Michael Crow, decided that money and success were more important than integrity, and they hired Erikson. Sure, he's won a handful of national championships and knows what he's doing as far as winning (though not of late), but the guy has been involved in numerous NCAA violations and basically led to the downfall of Miami football. He (along with his fellow assistant coaches) drank with players before big bowl games, allowed drug use to go rampant within his team, turned a blind eye to pay-for-play deals that rappers were giving his players, helped players to file bogus financial aid forms (and then later lied about it), and basically lacked any control of his team. And ASU bought the guy away from Idaho - where he had said that he would finish his career. But, supposedly, Erikson will help to increase ticket sales as our team gets more notoriety and "success." Last time I checked, the University was here to graduate students (including athletes) that will go on to represent ASU in a positive light. When we hire instructors (including coaches) who lack loyalty, discipline, and personal integrity, we cannot possibly expect our students to learn these qualities. To me, one of the most important jobs of a coach does not lie on the playing ground, it comes from the life lessons that are taught alongside the drills, sprints, and plays. Leadership, determination, work ethic, time management, integrity, and teamwork can only be taught with a leader that possesses those skills, and it makes me sad when I see that money, greed, and politics are more important than the true values in life. As a coach, mentor, and someday as a mother (not soon, no worries), I hope to instill these qualities in the younger generation so that they can live full, wholesome lives.
Another incident that I found disturbing revolves around the Phoenix Summit Challenge. Although I've never participated in the event myself, it sounds like an amazing way to challenge yourself within the Phoenix city limits. In 2005, Phoenix adventurer and REI employee Carla Olson created this event that spans seven of the highest summits in each of the city mountain preserves. Through her own ingenuity, hard work, and finances, she founded a highly successful and enjoyable event. Partnered with sponsors REI and the City of Phoenix, several hundred participants lined up to take part in the challenge in 2005. In 2006, the event filled to capacity within just a few hours of registration due to the success of the previous year's event. There were no injuries, and everything went very smoothly. It was a win-win situation for all involved: participants got a challenge (and some pretty sweet door prizes from what I hear), REI got some great exposure, the City got donations for its trails projects, and Carla got the satisfaction and pride that comes with organizing a successful event from its infancy to fruition. And then 2007 came around... and things got ugly. The City, seeing that the event was such a success, decided that they should be the ones controlling the event, and earning any consequent revenue that came from said event. So, they told Carla that they were not going to give her the permits to use the City preserves and said that they were in short, canceling the Phoenix Summit Challenge. Which would have been bad enough for such a successful program, but then they decided to host their own challenge and tried to file suit against Carla and her LLC for trademark issues and other irrelevant claims. In the City's "Phoenix Summit Challenge," they basically stole all of Carla's e-mail lists from the past events (under the guise of information needed by law for the litigation) as well as information straight from her website to use for their own challenge. So, for this year's challenge (which REI is not sponsoring, good for them), you have to sign up for a "class" (much like the City of Tempe rowing programs) online in order to participate in the hikes. Basically paying the City to use their trails to hike, and not much else - no door prizes, no dinner afterwards, no communal bond of hikers and adventurers to share in the joy of the event, because the city government has taken all the fun out of it with their greed and lack of integrity. For Carla's sake, I hope the City's event flops and she is able to put on the real event next year... because I want to participate, and I won't participate in something that the City stole.
But enough of that... many other fun things to think about. I'm headed back to beautiful Prescott this morning for some more mountain biking adventures. Have a good one!
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Labor Day Weekend Adventures
This weekend's lack of plans went quite nicely. Since San Diego was apparently having some sort of border control riot, the temperatures were soaring there, the waves didn't seem to be doing much according to surfline, and the campsites on the beach were all reserved, I figured it might be best to just explore Arizona instead. I've been here a few months over a year, and still have a lot of exploring to do.
The weekend started out around 6:30 a.m. on Saturday morning. As I headed up to Angel's house, the sun had just begun to hit the tallest peaks in the South Mountains, bathing the Valley in morning light that promised to get well above 100 in just a few hours (hence the reason for leaving). Up in Scottsdale, I met up with Angel, Bill, and Michelle (a guy, he's French :)) and we all headed north on I-17, destination Prescott. As we headed north, the elevation slowly increased: directly proportional to the number of trees and inversely proportional to the temperature. I became mesmerized by the gyroscopic effect of the tires on Angel's bike hanging off the back of her car. Since I had nothing else interesting to look at in the desert, I tried to figure out the effect it was having on her car... left tire spinning clockwise at about 80 RPM perpendicular to the movement of the car, right tire counterclockwise at an angle about double the speed of the left, 26" rims, 70 miles per hour... my scientific conclusion was that I am a nerd and that I should stop thinking about those sort of things on vacation. We soon exited the Interstate and took AZ-69 towards Prescott. As we got further along the highway, the cactus gave way to scrub oak and then the scrub oak finally gave way to pines as we turned onto Senator Highway and into the Prescott National Forest. When we stopped at the trailhead, it was 80 degrees, the skies were blue, and the air was fresh at over 6000 ft. The four of us got out the bikes and started climbing up Trail 307. The first couple of miles were through the pine forest and up the mountain. It was great training for our future mountain bike and adventure races, as we tried to bunny hop our way up rocks and logs. Some of it was a bit too steep and strewn with obstacles for us, so we were forced to hike-a-bike long stretches at a time. We weren't too concerned, as it gave Angel and I time to discuss details of what we want ODP to be, and also gave us a bit of time to get some oxygen into our bloodstream. Three miles later, we reached the top of Spruce Mountain, elevation 7693 ft. We took a well deserved break at the very top, enjoying the good company of fellow adventure junkies and stories of past mountain biking adventures. Then the fun began. From the top, the trail curved around the ridgeline for 6 beautiful, wonderful, adrenaline-pumping miles. The course was dotted with logs (placed by Forest Service for erosion control) and rocks (placed by God for extra fun). At first, I was a bit timid, as the logs posed a 12" drop or greater in places, often followed by extensive rock gardens, narrow singletrack along the ridge, and plenty of twists and turns. Bill went first, and was well ahead, and I followed Michelle, with Angel in back. Once I saw how Michelle was taking the obstacles, I decided that I could do it as well, and with every log I bunnyhopped (slowly, cautiously at first), I gained confidence. Once I gained confidence, I started to fly, and whoop with pure joy and exhilaration. Talk about living in the moment... this was life... adrenaline rush and then some. I caught up with Michelle about a mile into the downhill stretch. He took a head-over-handlebars approach to one of the logs, and ended up breaking his fall in a bed of rocks. He's a very resilient guy though, and went about fixing his busted front tire as if nothing had happened despite the scrapes up and down his arms and his knees which took the brunt of the crash. We continued on the rest of the trail without any additional injurie
s (although Angel hurt her toe when she got so pissed off at her bike that she kicked it... the bike won). We flew through pine forests and scrub oak patches, barely able to take in the scenery. If you took your eyes off the trail for one second, you were going to eat rocks, quite literally. It was a huge rush though, and the confidence that we all gained was amazing. At one point, we lost the trail for a bit, but it was blessing in disguise, as we stumbled upon some end of the season blackberries, which tasted as good as they did back in July. Before we knew it though, we were back at the trailhead, a little bit scratched up and a little dirty, but with smiles on our faces that couldn't be wiped off.
The weekend started out around 6:30 a.m. on Saturday morning. As I headed up to Angel's house, the sun had just begun to hit the tallest peaks in the South Mountains, bathing the Valley in morning light that promised to get well above 100 in just a few hours (hence the reason for leaving). Up in Scottsdale, I met up with Angel, Bill, and Michelle (a guy, he's French :)) and we all headed north on I-17, destination Prescott. As we headed north, the elevation slowly increased: directly proportional to the number of trees and inversely proportional to the temperature. I became mesmerized by the gyroscopic effect of the tires on Angel's bike hanging off the back of her car. Since I had nothing else interesting to look at in the desert, I tried to figure out the effect it was having on her car... left tire spinning clockwise at about 80 RPM perpendicular to the movement of the car, right tire counterclockwise at an angle about double the speed of the left, 26" rims, 70 miles per hour... my scientific conclusion was that I am a nerd and that I should stop thinking about those sort of things on vacation. We soon exited the Interstate and took AZ-69 towards Prescott. As we got further along the highway, the cactus gave way to scrub oak and then the scrub oak finally gave way to pines as we turned onto Senator Highway and into the Prescott National Forest. When we stopped at the trailhead, it was 80 degrees, the skies were blue, and the air was fresh at over 6000 ft. The four of us got out the bikes and started climbing up Trail 307. The first couple of miles were through the pine forest and up the mountain. It was great training for our future mountain bike and adventure races, as we tried to bunny hop our way up rocks and logs. Some of it was a bit too steep and strewn with obstacles for us, so we were forced to hike-a-bike long stretches at a time. We weren't too concerned, as it gave Angel and I time to discuss details of what we want ODP to be, and also gave us a bit of time to get some oxygen into our bloodstream. Three miles later, we reached the top of Spruce Mountain, elevation 7693 ft. We took a well deserved break at the very top, enjoying the good company of fellow adventure junkies and stories of past mountain biking adventures. Then the fun began. From the top, the trail curved around the ridgeline for 6 beautiful, wonderful, adrenaline-pumping miles. The course was dotted with logs (placed by Forest Service for erosion control) and rocks (placed by God for extra fun). At first, I was a bit timid, as the logs posed a 12" drop or greater in places, often followed by extensive rock gardens, narrow singletrack along the ridge, and plenty of twists and turns. Bill went first, and was well ahead, and I followed Michelle, with Angel in back. Once I saw how Michelle was taking the obstacles, I decided that I could do it as well, and with every log I bunnyhopped (slowly, cautiously at first), I gained confidence. Once I gained confidence, I started to fly, and whoop with pure joy and exhilaration. Talk about living in the moment... this was life... adrenaline rush and then some. I caught up with Michelle about a mile into the downhill stretch. He took a head-over-handlebars approach to one of the logs, and ended up breaking his fall in a bed of rocks. He's a very resilient guy though, and went about fixing his busted front tire as if nothing had happened despite the scrapes up and down his arms and his knees which took the brunt of the crash. We continued on the rest of the trail without any additional injurie
s (although Angel hurt her toe when she got so pissed off at her bike that she kicked it... the bike won). We flew through pine forests and scrub oak patches, barely able to take in the scenery. If you took your eyes off the trail for one second, you were going to eat rocks, quite literally. It was a huge rush though, and the confidence that we all gained was amazing. At one point, we lost the trail for a bit, but it was blessing in disguise, as we stumbled upon some end of the season blackberries, which tasted as good as they did back in July. Before we knew it though, we were back at the trailhead, a little bit scratched up and a little dirty, but with smiles on our faces that couldn't be wiped off. To celebrate the successful ride, we all headed down to the square in Prescott for some brew and grub. I had never been into the town before, and it pleasantly reminded me of the town square back in Salem (Indiana). An old courthouse surrounded by old red brick buildings full of character and delicious food. We all dug in to half-pound cheeseburgers and a sampling of the brewery's 11 different beers just as a summer thunderstorm opened up outside. It could not have been any more perfect. After lunch, the guys headed back to Phoenix, and Angel decided to tag along with me in my lack of plans. Since it was already around 4 p.m., we opted to hang around the area instead of trying to find someplace new. We first explored a small lake in the National Forest. Since there was no swimming allowed (what is it with these lakes in Arizona?), we watched some guys fish for crayfish with a rock, a piece of string, and a huge hunk of turkey bacon. Just as we walked by, they caught a 6" long crawdad, and we stopped to see it hungrily devour the meat before taking home a bit for the family when they guys let it loose.
We then tried our hand at bouldering back at the trailhead. Although there was chalk all over the good handholds, we found ourselves to be pretty novice at the sport (at least on these boulders), and ended up just climbing the easy routes. After we wore ourselves out there, we loaded up with our gear, and headed back out into the woods to camp. We found the perfect spot nestled back in the pines in an area with a lot of big boulders. Angel found a rock that acted as a perfect recliner chair, and we pitched the tent and hung the hammock right next
to it. For the rest of the evening, we just watched the stars and the clouds move across the sky while sharing stories and eating Doritos. It wasn't until it started storming that we finally succumbed to the tent (though I stood outside the tent munching on Doritos for a few minutes in the rain wondering whether it was going to let up or not... it didn't, so no sleeping in the hammock or on the rock for us). Once in the tent, Angel entertained me with stories of how bandits might be lurking outside, waiting to pounce when the moment was just right. The human mind will do weird things when it's dark and stormy... and I fell asleep listening for the sound of footsteps amid the drops of rain.
to it. For the rest of the evening, we just watched the stars and the clouds move across the sky while sharing stories and eating Doritos. It wasn't until it started storming that we finally succumbed to the tent (though I stood outside the tent munching on Doritos for a few minutes in the rain wondering whether it was going to let up or not... it didn't, so no sleeping in the hammock or on the rock for us). Once in the tent, Angel entertained me with stories of how bandits might be lurking outside, waiting to pounce when the moment was just right. The human mind will do weird things when it's dark and stormy... and I fell asleep listening for the sound of footsteps amid the drops of rain.We woke up to a bright sunny, clean morning. We broke camp around 9 a.m. and decided that a big breakfast and coffee for Angel would be the best thing to do. We headed back to Prescott where their Labor Day Festival was going strong on the square. After a big breakfast, we spread the Arizona map on the hood of Angel's car, and contemplated where we wanted to go next. Angel mentioned that Bell Trail in the Wet Beaver Wilderness would probably be great for mountain bike training, plus there was was a creek with rocks to climb and cliffs to jump off of. Sounded good enough for me, and we took off down AZ-169 headed northeast. As we drove, the pines turned into scrub oak, and the scrub oak turned into mesquite again as we lost a little elevation. The sun was shining hot overhead when we got to the trailhead, so we topped off our water containers, took off our shirts, and started biking up the red dust trail. The first two miles were great: enough rocks along the wide trail to keep things interesting and a bit of a breeze to keep us from overheating. Then Angel informed me that there was going to be a bit of an incline where we were going to have to carry our bikes, and then things would level off again where we could ride again. So, we carried our bikes, it leveled off for about 100 meters, and as we came around a turn, there was another long stretch of rocky incline. No big deal, carry bikes again, flat stretch.... and then another incline. It was hot and tiring, and I kept busting my scratched knee against my pedals as I carried my bike. The trail became very narrow along the ridge, and just as I was passing a small wash that fell over the cliff, I rolled my ankle. Now I was hot, tired, pissed off, and hurting, but just glad that I didn't topple over the edge. I rolled my left ankle again on our last incline and basically walked my bike the last half mile to where Angel was waiting for me at the swimming hole. I was frustrated, and thought about kicking her like she had kicked her bike previously, but I knew that it would have done about as much good as it had done her, so I just locked up the bikes and we walked down to the swimming hole. I instantly forgave her as I laid eyes on the red rock cliffs and boulders with the clear, cool water waiting in deep pools below. There were a few other people there, and one girl was standing at the top of a ledge, contemplating whether she should jump or not. Throwing caution to the wind, I ran up behind her and just leaped into the nothingness and down into the refreshing liquid below (she figured that if I could do it, she could too, and she followed suit shortly after). After the hell that we had just been through, it was pure heaven. We spent the next few hours swimming, climbing, jumping, and just generally enjoying the scenery. Late in the afternoon, we reluctantly unchained the bikes and made our way back along the hellish trail. The bad part wasn't as bad going downhill, though in my exhaustion, I walked much of it as opposed to trying to get some training down the rocks. The last two miles flew by, and before we knew it, we were back at the trailhead... where there are several signs posted that read: No Biking in the Wilderness!. Oops. $300 fine oops if we had been caught, so no more biking on that trail, for a whole lot of reasons.
At that point, Angel had to go back to Phoenix, but I was determined to stay out of the Valley as long as possible, and donned my pack again and started hiking back into the canyon alone. Well, mostly alone, I did come across a cool hippy guy who had found a snake on the trail and spent a few minutes talking with him and admiring the snake (it looked like a garter snake back in the Midwest) curling around his arm. After two miles, my shadow had become very long in the setting sun and I found myself in between two large outcroppings of red rock with the creek in between. I slipped down a little cliff and set up camp along the stream as the sun began to set. I spent the evening eating Mountain House mac and cheese, reading West of Jesus (about science, surfing, and the origins of belief), and just enjoying the solitude of the wild. I would also be lying if I said that I wasn't a little bit lonely and wary of the bandits that Angel had placed in my head. I fell asleep early as rain started pelting my little tent.
The benefit of falling asleep early is that I also woke up early enough to catch the sun rising over the eastern rim of the canyon. From my tent, I could see the moon and the first rays striking the rock hundreds of feet above my head. Canyon wrens were singing their songs and other birds joined in on the chorus to bring in the new day. I soaked up the solitude and peacefulness of the little valley as if I was the only person on the planet. For a long time, I just sat and watched the sun creep along the canyon walls until it finally burst forth into the stream, lighting up my world. There is nothing more humbling than watching the methodical, timeless work of the natural world. You realize how simple, fragile, and precious life really is, and it's times like that when I really feel blessed to just be a part of it. When the sun had fully infiltrated the camp, I broke down the tent, spent some more time just reflecting on the beauty of the world, and then started back towards the trailhead. I stopped for a breakfast of prickly pear fruits (how great is it that I snacked on blackberries in the same weekend), and leisurely made my way along the trail. Once back at the Jeep, I sloughed off my pack as a Prescott College van pulled into the gravel parking lot. Two guys quickly jumped out and started pulling out packs and maps like their lives depended on it. Soon after, a fire truck pulled into the lot and started talking to the two guys, followed by an ambulance and a fire chief's truck. With half a dozen rescue personnel milling around, I went over to see if there was anything I could help with. Although they appreciated the gesture, they seemed to have everything in control for the situation, and quickly explained that they were on a rescue mission for a young woman up somewhere in the wilderness. With that, I decided that maybe I had had enough adventure the weekend, and that a trip into Cottonwood's wilderness wasn't entirely necessary to do by myself. No need to overdo it and end up needing a rescue. Though Angel later put it best... if I ever do live in a small town like that, it would be fulfilling to be a part of a volunteer rescue crew and give back to the community in that way.
I (as well as the Jeep and my bike) wasn't too happy about heading back to the Valley, and just to reiterate the fact, as we hit the Maricopa County border, the outside temp. gauge hit 100 degrees. But, we all got back safely with a fun, exciting, relaxing, and enjoyable Labor Day weekend in the books, lots of good stories to tell for weeks to come, and many other places to explore in Arizona in the future.
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