Wild, Wild West

It was another exciting week in the world of this graduate student. We started the week off with the most fun colloquium I have ever attended, due to an underground game of "seminar bingo," compliments of the best comic ever. Teaching was also a lot of fun, especially when one undergraduate who I had previously thought was smart turned the diagram of a microscope on her quiz into a pepper-sneezing monster. I could not help but laugh out loud when I looked at it. But, for the most part, I have a really good group of kids, and I thoroughly enjoy teaching. And my mentor finally returned from his tenure-induced disappearance to have a meeting with me and justify that the work I am doing is actually what I should be doing in order to advance my research and graduate career. It was a rather refreshing way to end the week.

There are always multiple fun things going on for every given weekend, and it's always a struggle for me to determine how to maximize the ~50 hours of fun. I started it out by joining a few friends for a climb at Climax, one of the new climbing gyms in Tempe. Although the gym lacks the competitive big ropes that Haydon and I always end the climb with, it does boast brand new holds and walls (they're so sticky, you almost don't need chalk) and a real air conditioner (as opposed to the swamp cooler at PRG). The climbing and post-climb Dos Gringos was a great way to start off the weekend before I had to decide between hanging out with mountain bikers in Sedona or ultimate players in Prescott. So, like any good compromiser, I did both. Saturday morning started early with Jack and Hannah on South Mountain. We had a nice, easy ride on Desert Classic out to Telegraph Pass. Ok, at least I did. Hannah started hating Jack and I sometime in between the time he wouldn't let her stop at the water tank and when Jack ran over a rattlesnake. But, we made it the 9 miles out in 1:15, and started up the Pass just as Hannah ran out of water. Oops. The long climb was hot and involved lots of bike carrying, but it wasn't as bad as I remembered. I don't know if it is because of the experience I've gained or the fact that maybe, just maybe, the weather is cooling off a bit, but either way, I'll take it. Jack and I gained the top and watched Hannah painfully make her way up for a bit before Jack felt the gentlemanly need to go help out our damsel in distress. After a brief rest, we all spun up the blacktop past the TV towers until we got to National Trail. I really do love this trail, even if I can't clear half of the stuff on it, and I was stoked to be on it. Jack was stoked as well. Hannah... well, Hannah was just mad at the world by this point and in dire need of water, confidence, and maybe some pixie dust to help her fly more gracefully. The trail was exactly as I remembered it, and I was having a blast improving my skills over rocks and down tricky sections, trying to increase my control and handling of the bike. I got a bit tired towards the end, but not as much as Hannah, who had one spectacular endo over a pretty big drop, and the two of us took it easy the rest of the way down the mountain until we finally caught up to Jack at the trailhead. After two more fast, easy miles on the fire road, we were back to the truck where we gulped down some liquids and headed for home.

At home, we watched some college football and relaxed for a bit before I showered and got dressed up to go to Prescott. Yes, you read that right, dressed up to go to Prescott. As in, us cowpokes hadn't been to town all month and we had run out of the basic necessities and needed to take our monthly bath, tidy up a bit, and hitch up the wagon. I (Bonnie Lou Ann) met up with Dixie, Vernon Caldwell III, Hay-zeus, and Wyatt (aka, Fife, Case, Dixon, and Clint) and we took I-17 to Bumblebee where we left the paved road and wound our way up the mountains to the town of Cleator, which consists of a few old wooden buildings in the middle of nowhere. But, one building housed a bar that served cold drinks. We met up with Skyler and a few of his other friends (who didn't play along with our western theme) for a beer before continuing on to Crown King for a burger and a brew out of Mason jars in the oldest saloon in Arizona. We really looked like locals in our boots, cowboy shirts, and big belt buckles. From there, it was on to the 40 miles of dust and dirt to Prescott. We had a blast getting into our character for the evening and listening to all sorts of country music as we bounced along the primitive road (that Jack and some other friends and I are planning to bike before it starts to get snowy up there). None too soon, we finally found our way back to the paved road of Senator Highway and finally dropped down into downtown Prescott. We rassled up some grub and moonshine from the general store and checked into the brothel to watch some college football on the picture tube before shining up our belt buckles and moseyin' into town. We spent an amazing night pub crawling down the infamous Whiskey Row. We started the night off with a shot of Southern Comfort at Matt's Saloon, tipped our hats to the band, and proceeded to trip the lights fantastic on the dance floor. We had really looked like locals up until that point, but I'm afraid that I didn't spend enough time at JD's Dance Ranch as a teenager and Angel's two-step instruction months ago didn't stick. But we had a lot of fun none-the-less and didn't run into too many people. We hit up every single bar on Montezuma Street all the way down to The Bird Cage before returning to close down the evening at Matt's to dance off our hangovers. When the band played their last song and the lights came back on, we wandered back to the hotel and I crashed hard.

We woke up to a great continental breakfast, packed up the dusty truck, and made our way back to Phoenix, opting to return on the paved roads. We got back to the Valley around noon, so after hanging out with Jack and Guane for a bit and a short nap, I spent the rest of the evening getting covered in paint and epoxy and spending some quality time with the American Fire. She's really starting to look better, like she wants to go out for another row or something... she really is a beauty and it felt good to be working on her again, I love that boat so much. I ended the weekend with some of Guane's amazing meatloaf and called it a day.

Labor Free Weekend

The first week of school actually went fairly well. The colloquium wasn't too boring, I managed to get a bit of free food, I didn't run over any undergrads on either the bike or Biodesign van, and... I found out that I really do love teaching. It's sort of like coaching with the exception that if they screw up I'm not supposed to make them run. If I can just remember that, I think that the semester will go by just fine.

And, the start of the school year means a plethora of school-sanctioned drinking activities, and all of us grad students were happy to oblige. From the Biodesign Fellows meet-and-greet to the weekly Thursday Four Peaks (where several of us got caught in the monsoon/tornado thing that whipped through Tempe and had an incredible escape to Josh's house in the storm), and finally to Friday's School of Life Sciences Happy Hour at Macayo's. I started the weekend with my fellow grad students for free food, cheap drinks, and mingling with our professors until their bedtimes, at which time we discovered the Jack Daniel's promotion. After a few Jack-aritas, I cooled off in the Depot waterfall and we then proceeded to Mill Ave. for some billiards, dancing, and more crazy antics until our bike gang ended the night at Ben's pool.

My initial plan had been to head to San Diego on Saturday morning, but when I tried to battle the sleep monster at 6 a.m., it won, and kept me under its control until much later in the morning. But, I was not about to waste one of my precious three days of vacation, so I joined Phil and some of the rugby guys for some extra dirty (due to the nice monsoon rains) sand volleyball for most of the afternoon before brushing off the mud and rejoining the SoLS grads for some watermelon carving fun. I've said it loads of times before, but I'll say it again: I really do love the grad school environment. It's filled with intelligent, adventurous, like-minded, and just fun-loving people. I find it kind of embarrassing that it's taken me two years to really start hanging out with all of them on a somewhat regular basis (apart from functions that involve free food), but I am excited about the adventures that I know I'll have with them in the future. We spent an awesome evening carving, eating, bowling, wearing, throwing, and drinking dozens of watermelons among other activities such as hula-hoop soccer, wall-ball, and singing to the neighbors. All in all, it was a very fun, crazy night and I headed home with a smile on my face.

Though I didn't get any more sleep than Friday night, I was determined to make it out to San Diego before high tide, so I tackled the sleep monster into submission, packed up the Jeep, and headed west. I hadn't gone on a solo expedition in a long time, so I was stoked to the max, and I didn't even mind the driving. The Shins, Rogue Wave, U2, Billy Joel, and The Killers kept me company until I finally crested the mountains and descended to the sea. I rolled down the windows to a perfect 75 degrees, and cruised into downtown on top of the world. The first stop was to Coronado to pick up a rash guard at Emerald City since I had forgotten to bring one, and then I headed up to Cabrillo Point to scout out the waves up the coast. It looked pretty flat, and the tide pools had already closed for the day (it was almost high tide), but I walked around and enjoyed the smell of the ocean and watched the sailboats come into the bay until the park closed at 5. By that time, I didn't care if the waves were small or not, I wanted to be out on the ocean. So, I headed down the coast of Point Loma to Sunset Cliffs and broke out the boogie board. The waves were only 3 feet tall and pretty mushy, but as I paddled out to the line-up, there was a transformation in me. I hadn't been to the ocean since January, and the taste of saltwater and the sound of crashing waves brought me right back home and I fell in love all over again. As I got through the soup of the broken waves and lined up to the north of the half-dozen longboarders, I just laid across the board and looked out towards the sun melting through the clouds on the western horizon. As far as I am concerned, there is no better thing than being part of the ocean, cradled in the cool, gentle swells. It is simply where I belong. I felt more relaxed just sitting there on the line-up than I have since I was last on top of the Atlantic swells. I just sat there on the board for several minutes basking in the incredible beauty of the Pacific before I even though about catching one of the waves that were swelling around me. Even though they weren't very big, the lines were long, covering the entire sandbar, and so after studying the sets for a little bit, I turned around and caught a few. And by a few, I mean exactly three the entire time I was out there. And two hardly counted, as they didn't even have enough power to get me into shore. But, I still couldn't have been happier, and was quite content to just hang out there on the line-up, which is pretty much what the rest of the guys were doing anyways, whether they wanted to or not. After a few hours, I decided to get out of the water and just watch the sun set over the western horizon as I had done so many times before. It wasn't a spectacular sunset by any means, as the clouds hid most of the rays, but it was perfect for me and allowed me to just watch the ocean. It's really amazing how much that great blue expanse of water and life means to me, and just how much I miss it.

After the sun went down, I made my way up the coast past Mission Bay. The camping on the bay seemed pretty full, so I didn't even check it out, and instead headed to Pacific Beach for some Chipotle and people watching. Nourished once more, I continued north. My intentions were to just keep going, but I could hear the waves crashing on the cove from the car, so I pulled over to investigate. You would think that based on my past experiences, that crashing waves would be a negative sound, but I still do love them, and couldn't pull myself away. I sat down on the sandstone above the cove and just listened and watched the ocean. The surf may have been flat to the south, but it was going off there at the cove, and it was truly beautiful.

Eventually, though, I needed sleep, so I continued my way up the coast. It's illegal to just park your car overnight at the beach - much to the chagrin of the surfing community - so I was hoping that with the chance of rain that there might be a free campsite open at one of the two beach campgrounds. No such luck at either Cardiff or Carlsbad. In the end, I joined the beach bum crowd, found a neighborhood adjacent to the beach that allowed parking on the street, pulled up behind a VW Westfalia, spread my sleeping bag out in the back, and curled up with Fish to the sound of waves crashing on the distant shore.

Before I knew it, the dark night had turned to a gray misty, southern California morning. I woke groggily, but as soon as I made the short drive down to the Tamarack Surf Beach, my face lit up again. It was only 6 a.m., but there were already a few dozen vehicles in the parking lot, and a few spots down from me, sure enough, there was the VW bus with a few boards hanging out the back. Since the surf shops wouldn't open for a few more hours, and I wanted to catch the perfect breaks that lined the beach, I hauled the body board out of the Jeep and headed barefoot down to the waves. Tamarack really is a great surf beach, and there was plenty of room for all of us, even body boarders who generally aren't welcome in a surf line-up. My tiredness wore off the second that I hit the cold Pacific water, and I had to smile. This was life. No sooner than I had paddled out of the breakers, I caught my first wave of the morning. If I could wake up every morning like that, I would be a very happy kid. The waves weren't huge by any means, 5 feet max, but they had some energy to them and definitely kept me entertained. For about two hours, I played in the swells, catching at least one wave out of every set, which came in pretty regular intervals. When I had tired myself out pretty good, I rode one more into the sand, rinsed off, and just sat and watched the waves and other surfers.

Eventually my hunger overcame my fascination with the wave riders, so I made my way to the final stop on my north county adventure: Oceanside, my birthplace and home for the first few years of my life. I don't know if it's nostalgia or that the waves really are better there, but that's where I decided that I'd spend the day. The gray day hadn't really helped to dry me off any, so like a local, I squished my way in my soggy flip-flops and damp boardshorts over to Johnny Manana's for a breakfast burrito. I love local places, and Johnny Manana's is the real deal. From my red plastic chair in the colorful little shop, I chatted with a few of the early morning surfers and listened to a group of old men as they talked about weather and baseball over coffee and beer, as they probably do every morning. After I was completely nourished by the potpourri of local flavor, I went over to the pier to see what the waves were doing. The south side of the pier was looking really good, with a bunch of shortboarders having a blast, and even the north side sandbar looked to offer some decent swells. With a steady wind coming straight out of the west, it promised to be a decent day.

As soon as Asylum opened up, I rented a 7' softtop (noone rents real boards) and headed out to see just what the waves were doing. I paddled out in between sets and lined up a few hundred meters south of the pier. The waves were pretty much perfect for what I wanted to do, but for all intents and purposes, I hadn't been on a board in quite a long time, and I spent the first hour pretty much displaying to the world how much of a grom I was. Catching the waves wasn't my problem, actually riding them was a whole different story. After half a dozen nose plants, one or two good rides, and too much time spent fighting the breakers, I gave in to the fact that I should probably practice a bit, so I joined the rest of the softtops in the soup and rode the mushy waves until I was exhausted but finally getting the hang of it.

After I was absolutely exhausted, I took a bit of rest on the beach before spending the rest of the afternoon on the waves of the sandbar on the north side of the pier. By 3 in the afternoon, I was waterlogged and tired, but the stoke of a good ride justifies the next one, and I was completely addicted. I told myself "just one more good wave," about 10 times before I finally rode one into the sand and hauled myself back up the beach and called it a day. After rinsing off and returning the board, I headed back down the PCH to drive past my potential future employers at the Torrey Pines Science Park and get one last look at the ocean at the Glider Port. I knew it would probably be awhile before I came back to the beach, so I spent an hour on the edge of the cliffs watching the hang gliders float over the beach and enjoying the sound and smells of the ocean before I hopped back in the Jeep and made the long drive back to Phoenix.

Life is short, but sweet for certain.

August 21st was the last day of freedom for the full-time residents of ASU. Throughout the week, the freshmen showed up and the campus started buzzing with new life, including cars, bikes, longboards, and clueless kids who compete for us grad students' space on the roads, sidewalks, labs, and sandwich shops. As I get older, the novelty of free food has worn off, and now that I am no longer coaching, the arrival of the new students just isn't as exciting as it used to be. I now understand why the grads at the Weizmann Institute loved their campus so much: with an undergraduate population of zero, it's summer break all year long there. Alas, not so much here. So as one last goodbye to the summer, some of us in the lab took one last trip to Sack's for a little bit of nutrition before we went into hibernation for the first few weeks of the fall semester. And then I crawled into my cave and settled in for a long winter's nap.

Unfortunately, it turns out that I need to do a bit more yoga in order for the cabinet to be more fun than dodging undergrads, so I decided to run away instead. After a nice evening with Martin and friends for his going away dinner, Hannah and I packed up the Jeep and headed up to Flagstaff. It was late when we started, and much later by the time we actually arrived at the site for the race that was to take place the next morning. There were a few RVs parked near the road, but we continued on the forest road to where we had seen some tents last year, and completely by chance found a few of the Missing Link guys camped out there. I was dog tired by that time, and we crashed soon after we got the tent set up.

After a surprisingly great night of sleep (cool weather will do that), we got up and started tinkering with the bikes in anticipation of the Absolute Bikes Old Fashioned Mountain Bike Race. The day got off to a bad start for the boys of ML, and after an unsuccessful bleed and refill of Brad's rear disk brake, he was out of the race before it even began and was relegated to the job of photographer. At 9 a.m., the rest of the ML boys and Scooby lined up for the start of the expert men's race, with Hannah and I following shortly in the women's sport race. We had raced the same course last year, with three of us in the class and Hannah coming #2 and me #3 after I flatted. This year there were still three in our class, but I had a new secret weapon: "five pound" (according to Hannah) thorn resistant tubes in my tires, and I felt very confident in my equipment. I also felt pretty good about how my training had improved since last year, and eagerly waited on the starting line to see just how much we had improved.

The race started well, and my lungs had become accustomed to the altitude as I spun up the beginning of the forest road. It didn't seem nearly as long as last year, and although I was well behind the leader in my class when I breached the top of it, I felt good as I took advantage of the descent. Unfortunately, Guy Bell was limping the wrong way when I zoomed past him, and our second ML racer was out of the race. The start of the singletrack was exactly how I remembered it, though. It started with a sharp curve and then a rocky incline as we all made our way up through the pines and meadows. I passed a few of the girls who had beat me to the trails and a few of the expert men passed me, but the women's leader was nowhere in sight. Soon enough, I came to the rock gardens that I walked my bike through the year before. I was happy to realize that I was much better at navigating them and picking a line through tricky stretches, but with the amount of bike traffic going through the area, I still found it hard to get into a good rhythm and was happy when I arrived at the pipeline forest service road for two steep ups and downs before returning to the singletrack and the best part of the race. The last few miles is entirely composed of fast, curving, descending hard packed singletrack. Aka, pure heaven. I consider this type of riding my forte (mostly because it is so much fun), so I was flying along having the time of my life until I found myself back at the beginning of the loop. Another woman and I were battling back and forth when we got back to the fire road, so when I found some new adrenaline after passing Brad, I passed her for good. I got some new adrenaline after pulling ahead of her, and before I knew it, I had reached the top, where I met up with Bill. He was obviously having some bike issues, because as I came up to him, he was in the process of kicking it. There wasn't anything I could do, though, so I started cruising down to the singletrack. I was a bit more tired this go around, so I didn't clear the rocks as well and had to walk some sections. Fortunately, I had the downhill section to end the race with, and it was just as fun on the second loop. After 2 hours and 33 minutes, I rolled across the finish line, the first for ML and almost an hour faster than last year. I was followed shortly by Scooby, who did well in the geared expert 30 miler, and then Bill, who ended up only completing 2 laps, and then Hannah at 2:52, and finally Jason who finished the 30 miles in the single-speed category just before the time cut-off.

After the main races, the kids race kept us quite entertained with ages 5-15 competing in an 1/8th mile loop. It was the cutest thing to see pint-sized kids in spandex and helmets bigger than themselves pedaling as hard as they could. One girl on a pedal-less training bike even finished a lap and shot her little fists into the air at the finish line. Too cute. I have an uncanny feeling that my future kids will be somewhat similar.

It started pouring and hailing soon after the finish of the kids races, so we raced back to the car and loaded up to head back into town for some grub and awards. After a quick bite at Altitudes and some free pizza at the Pay 'n' Take, they handed out awards and Hannah and I officially switched spots from last year, with me taking home the silver sprocket and Hannah taking the bronze. The girl that won should have been in the expert category, and I think I'm going to enter into it next year for the sheer fact that I like longer races and there is more competition, even if I'm not quite an "expert" yet.

We headed home after awards so I could get in a quick shower before heading out to west Phoenix to the Cricket Music Pavilion with Megan and another ulty player, Brian, for the Dave Matthews Band concert. It promised to be an emotional concert, as one of the founding members of the band, LeRoi Moore, passed away just a few days before the concert. Unfortunately for the crowd, just getting into the venue was emotional, as the Will Call machines were down, and it took 45 minutes for us just to get our tickets. It's not often that you see a crowd of angry hippies, but we managed to keep our cool as we got into the pavilion midway through the opening song. We spread a blanket at the top of the lawn and basked in the incredible music and atmosphere of the concert. The sax player from Bella Fleck filled in for the fallen band member, and as expected, it was a very emotional concert, made all the more incredible by the lightning storm that was playing off to the east and a sprinkle of rain that fell during the middle of the show. The incredible musical talent of the band has always held me captive, and so many of the songs were the soundtrack to my days at Purdue and will always hold a special place in my heart. Even though it was only my 3rd Dave concert, each one is magnificently unique, and this one was no exception. I had never heard Two Step as I heard it that night, and its lyrics really hit home for all of us in the crowd as I am positive it did for those on stage as well. By the last instrumentation, everyone in the venue was dancing. It was a beautiful thing, and I drove home through the night with a smile on my face.

It had been a long week, and though there were many grad student activities and mountain biking opportunities on Sunday, I slept solid until 10 a.m. It was absolutely refreshing. The rest of the day was spent relaxing in the pool and hanging out with Jack and some friends and gearing up for the start of the school year.

Citius, Altius, Fortius.

"It means stronger, higher, faster, and its been the motto for the Olympics for the last 2,500 years. But it doesn't mean faster, higher, and stronger than those you compete against, just faster, higher, stronger." -Bill Bowerman, Without Limits

After my family left at the beginning of the week, I hit the ground running with things going on in the lab and preparing for the start of the school year, but I made sure to get some quality time in to watch the Olympics.

At the end of the long week, we decided to give Martin one last Arizona adventure before he returned to Florida to finish up his PhD. Our adventure of choice was Christopher Creek, and though I was just there a few weeks ago, I was excited about going back. I know I seem to have many "favorite places," but Christopher Creek is definitely high on that list. Hannah and I had the pleasure of introducing both Emily Hadyon and Martin to the canyon. There were several people at the start of the canyon when we got up there, and the water was a little low, but it certainly didn't diminish our fun. We slid, jumped, and log rolled our way down the canyon to the first of the larger falls, where the bit of downclimbing required for continuing further filtered out the boys scouts and others less adventurous than ourselves. Rather than downclimbing, though, I opted for the even better alternative for getting down: jumping of course. I've jumped off of a lot of cliffs in my day, but if I were to name my favorites, the 35' jump there near the falls is one of them. Wth my new lack of fear (enhanced by the fact that I'd jumped that one before), I easily climbed up to the ledge, waited for the cameras, and leaped off into nothingness. I love it. Haydon followed suite, and we had another great jump together. And then Martin got the courage to do it as well, and we all agreed that it was an awesome jump. Hannah refrained for this go around due to her still healing knee, but she made a great photographer.

We continued on down the canyon, with all of us jumping down near the double falls and then stopping for lunch along the cool rock formations and having a ton of fun that only adventurers like us can have. Then, we finally got to the biggest of the falls. The slings that we put in last time were still there, but we didn't bring ropes, so at that point, we had two choices: hike around or jump. Since Tyler had jumped last time, I had been itching to try it as well. When I stepped to the edge, I got really excited. The water levels were lower, and there was no way to depth check, but since we didn't even get close to finding a bottom last time and there were no boulders at all, I felt fairly sure that it was completely safe. With slightly more trepidation than the first jumps of the day, I pushed off of the granite past the few rocks sticking over the edge and flew into space. I really can't get enough of this jumping thing. It was an excellent jump, even with the Camelback, and when I resurfaced I was all smiles. My friends who looked down at me from above didn't think the same way about the jump as I did and they climbed around. I swam through to the second falls where we had rapped through the waterfall the last time and enjoyed the ambiance of the scenery on the top of the falls while the others climbed down to meet me. Then all of us took great flying leaps into the deep pool below. It was beautiful in so many ways.

Since we aren't simply satisfied with easily hiking down the canyon, after we were done with the big jumps, Martin found a really nice log that we decided to turn into a bridge. The bridge didn't go anywhere, but it was fun to attempt to balance on, and we continued to drag it downstream to a tricky part of downclimbing made more difficult by the fact that we blocked the route with a log. But, as I said, we certainly do keep life interesting. Near the end of the canyon, we hiked on the opposite side of the canyon than we had the last times, and played on the log that made a real bridge across the creek.... and then we jumped in one last time. At the very end of the canyon, we got in once last ounce of fun as we made a game of "who can haul themselves out of the creek on the algae covered slickrock." I'm pretty sure that Hannah won, but we eventually all made it. After one final swim section, we hit the trail that led us back to the highway. Although I could spend days in amazing canyons like Christopher Creek, we were, to quote Hannah from another trip, "almost out of water, and by water, I mean food." So, we jogged back to the car under the guise that it was good for our adventure race training, but really, it just meant that we got to food faster. Martin fired up his limo and we raced back to Payson to Tiny's restaurant for a lot of cheap, homecooked food and some amazing bread pudding for desert.

The rest of the weekend was spent mostly working on the American Fire, getting things done around the house, and escaping the late summer heat by watching the Olympics and Without Limits a few times (I really love the movie, and it captures everything that I love about sports and athletes).

The Kessans take over Arizona

It's been over a year since any of my family has visited Arizona, and I had the great pleasure of hosting my Dad, Emily, and Angela for a few days.

They arrived in Phoenix around lunchtime and made their way over to ASU, where I showed them around my lab, took them to Sack's for lunch, and gave them a tour of campus and Biodesign using my awesome powers as a golfcart driver. I took off of work early, gave them directions to the house, and then raced them home (I beat them by about 10 minutes!). After showing them around the house, we headed to Scottsdale for the evening, where we enjoyed pizza, gelato, and a stroll around Old Town. They were exhausted from the time difference and travel, so Emi and I left Dad and Ang at their hotel and headed back to Tempe to get some rest for the many adventures that I had planned for their stay in Arizona.

Early the next morning, we packed up and headed to the Melrose Paradise Recreation Club for the 2nd Extreme Heat Adventure Race. I missed the first one for the Virostko Family Reunion, but ODP held strong with two teams entering and Angel and Laurie taking the top women's honors. Hannah and I were the only ones representing in this race, and we were determined to bring home the gold again. With a full paparazzi in the form of my family, we lined up with 35 other teams at 7 a.m. and started the sprint adventure race. After a quick mystery event of finding a golf ball with our number on it, we got our first map and headed out on the trekking leg. We ran about a mile out to the Phoenix Mountain Preserve and then found 5 orienteering points among the rocky hills before completing one more mystery event (throwing a hoop onto a cone) and running back to the TA. By 8:30, it was already boiling and we were almost out of water, so we were eager to jump into the pool for the next mystery event (collecting 15 pennies from the pool bottom). We were sitting mid-pack and were the third women's team to come through the TA, and as we hopped on our bikes for the last part of the race, we hoped that all of our training would pay off. Hannah and I made up ground quickly and had almost caught up to one of the women's teams by the first checkpoint at the edge of the preserve. We passed them at the second point and soon found ourselves on a very rocky, washed out Trail 100. This was completely to our advantage, as we were hoping that our biking skills would be better than the other women's teams, and we found the next two points easily, enjoying the challenging ride along the way. Our only navigational mistake was my fault, as we went around a mountain (including two grueling uphills) that we could have easily shortcutted, wasting about 10 minutes in the process (I think that hill is a curse for me, as I did this the opposite way last year). None-the-less, we hurried back through the suburban hills and finally got back to Shea, where we sprinted to the finish line. We were stoked to find out that we had come in 7th overall and were the first women's team across the line! We wasted no time getting cold drinks and snacks and hanging out with our fellow competitors in the pool while waiting for the rest of the teams to come in. Finally, the rest of the teams (including two other teams from VOTS) came in and we had awards, where ODP proudly accepted our gold dog tags. It's amazing to see how far the team has come in just one year, and I'm excited to see where we go in the future. Stay tuned for more races :).

Since it was almost noon by the time that everything was over, my family and I opted out of driving too far away and decided to instead head to Coon Bluff for a bit of relaxing and playing in the Salt River. They were all amazed to find such a large and fast flowing river in the middle of the desert, and Dad, Emi, and I had a blast swimming around while Ang lounged in the shade and was kept entertained by our crazy antics and the ground squirells. Emi and I took advantage of the fast current and floated downstream through the rapids and down towards the namesake bluff, where we spent some quality sister bonding time jumping off of the cliffs.

We had a very enjoyable afternoon, and then headed back to clean up in time for dinner at Rustler's Rooste in South Mountain. My dad used to go to the restaurant when he was visiting Phoenix as an executive for Digital, and Emi and Ang had never been to the place before, so we thought it fitting that we go. I love the place, though I had only been there once before when Dad was in town the last time. How can you not love a place that has a slide for the entrance and more homecooked western food than even I can eat? We had an excellent meal and got to watch the sun set over the Valley before resting up for another full day.

On Sunday, we woke early, had a nice breakfast at the hotel, and then headed north on I-17. Our final stop of the day was to be the Grand Canyon, but since neither Emily nor Angela had been up that way, we decided to stop a few other places beforehand. Our first side trip was through Sedona. I had only been to the land of red rock once before, and that was two years ago, so I was looking forward to it. The amount of people that flock to Sedona overwhelms me a bit, and I tend to look for less popular places, but you cannot deny the reason that people go there: it is absolutely gorgeous. As we dropped into the little valley, the tall red walls grew around us, surrounding us with monuments such as Bell Rock and Cathedral Rock. We all had our eyes glued to the scenery as we drove into town. We didn't stop downtown, but continued on to the one spot that I had been to before: Slide Rock State Park. We parked upstream of the actual slides and hiked along the road until we came to the naturally carved red rock waterpark. Even though it was still midmorning, throngs of people already filled the entire length of the park, and I remembered why my friends and I usually try to avoid popular places. Although the people may have spoiled the serenity of the beautiful natural spot, they couldn't spoil our fun, and Emi and I had a blast slipping and sliding down the smooth sandstone rapids and jumping off of the small cliffs that line the slickrock. Finally, we made it to the end of the slides and munched on a few of the late season blackberries and took the requisite leap from the taller cliffs underneath the bridge. Standing at the top of the cliffs with my sister, I had a very strange epiphany: I am losing my natural fear of heights. I've never been overly frightened of exposure or heights, but the normal bit of apprehension at standing on the edge of cliffs is now non-existant. I toed the edge of the cliff without the slightest hesitancy while others wouldn't even come close (Em did brilliantly though). It's probably not good for my survival rate, as fear can be a good thing when keeping me out of dangerous situations, but it is kind of cool. Nonetheless, Em and I both had good jumps and slid down the slides a few more times before we headed back up the trail and continued on to Flagstaff.

We went through a rainstorm as we drove up and out of the canyon and came out of it just as we got to the outskirts of Flag. We had a tasty lunch at The Black Bean and enjoyed the ambience of one of my favorite Arizona towns before continuing up to the Grand Canyon. After another two hours, we finally reached our destination and Emi and Angela caught their first glimpse of the mighty Grand near Mather Point. I've been to the Grand Canyon several times now, and each time, I am taken aback with its beauty and just overwhelming massiveness. The effect was felt by all of us. Even Angela, who is a bit scared of heights, did a great job as we walked along the Rim Trail. Emily and I wasted no time crawling out to the edge of the boulders that line the rim, and made Dad and Angela nervous as we walked easily out to a ledge that dropped off quite a ways. Again, my fear of heights was completely absent, even without water or a safe outlet if I were to fall. Crazy, but I loved it.

We explored all along the south rim near Mather, and then took a shuttle over to the rim lodges to watch the sun set over the western horizon. Dad and I had had such a great time hiking down to the river last winter, and Emily was itching to hike down below the rim as well. Unfortunately, we didn't have enough time for a good hike, but I know that the two of us have some adventures in the bowels in the earth in our future.

The last tints of orange were completely vanished by the time we took the shuttle back to the car, so Emily and I took advantage of walking along the darkened canyon before we all jumped back in the car and headed back down to the Valley.

We were all still a bit tired the next morning, and Angela opted to explore Scottsdale while Dad, Emi, and I had a quick breakfast at the hotel and headed north again, this time on 87 towards Payson. The drive has become fairly familiar to me, but I saw the landscape with new eyes as Dad and Emi commented on the diversity that Arizona offers. After a few hours, we finally found ourselves on the dirt road that led to Fossil Creek. It's only six miles, and again, I have become used to it, but Dad wasn't and it seemed like much longer as we wound our way down the canyon to the creek below. When we reached the bottom and hiked down the trail to the water, they were absolutely amazed at the crystal clear blue-green travertine waters. My sister exclaimed that it was the coolest pool she had ever been to... and that was just at the first area we visited. We played all day up and down the creek in between the first pool and the big falls, swimming in the deep pools, jumping off of the rock shelfs, hiding behind the waterfalls, and letting the strong current massage our shoulders as we relaxed and enjoyed the beauty of the riparian area and each other's company. It was incredible to be able to share one of my favorite spots with my family, and we all had a great time. We ended the afternoon with a lunch of bread, cheese, and plums and jumping off of the big waterfall. As the breeze became cooler and thunderheads covered the sun, we started back on the trail, with the rumbling of an impending storm in the distance. We made it back to the car as the storm clouds passed innocently above us and we headed back up the road, with all of us admiring the commanding views of the red and green canyon with a rainbow streaking down through the center of it as we came to the top. Driving back to the Valley, we watched the cloudbursts pummel the landscapes below and were treated to one of the most magnificent rainbows I have ever seen (on land at least). We pulled off the highway (as did several other cars) to witness the incredible size and color of the double rainbow that bridged the entire valley near Gisela. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.

After a dinner at Oregano's and one more night chillin' with my sister, their trip came to an end. On Tuesday morning, they packed up and we said our goodbyes after several days of adventure and exploration, a taste of what my life is like out here in this great, hot playground. I know I had an incredible time while they were here, and I'm pretty sure that they went home with some great memories, and some plans for new adventures for when they come out here again.

Exploring Arizona

Sometimes life gets the best of me, and weekends don't seem to come soon enough. It was a bit like that for me over the past week, and by Friday afternoon, I was certainly ready for the weekend. I started it off with a bit of training/scouting with ODP. We took to the northern part of the Phoenix Mountain Preserve, the site of our next adventure race that was to take place the following weekend. For about two hours, Hannah, Angel, and I explored Trail 100 and every shortcut and alleyway that we could before it got too dark for us to see. Then we headed over to Haydon's for Tess's first doggy birthday party before I came home and crashed in anticipation of a weekend of exploration.

Kohl came over and we packed the Jeep with camping gear and an adventurous spirit, and took off to northern climes. We drove up to Flagstaff and just kept going. Our first stop on the weekend of adventure was the Lava River Cave, about 20 miles north of Flagstaff. We drove through a few miles of dirt roads past cool pine forests and open meadows filled with tall grass and wildflowers. When we arrived at the trailhead for the cave, we were both surprised at the number of vehicles parked there. Dozens of off-roaders packed the place as we packed our day bags and headed up the short trail to the cave. The Lava River Cave, or Lava Tube, was formed when the volcanoes of the San Francisco Peaks erupted, with the molten lava flowing underground through a long tunnel until it finally hardened and left a 3/4 mile long cave in the middle of the forest. The entrance to the cave is basically a big bouldery hole in the ground, and as soon as we approached it, the temperature dropped at least 10 degrees. We broke out some long sleeves and our headlamps and headed off into the unknown... Well, it wasn't really the unknown, as there were dozens of people in and around the entrance as we descended into the dark tunnel flecked with the bobbing of varying intensities of fluorescents and LEDs. The beginning of the cave was slick with condensation, making the scramble over the sharp volcanic boulders a bit of an adventure, but within a few hundred meters, the floor of the tunnel evened out to reveal a smoother floor of frozen lava. The further we hiked in, the beams of our headlamps flashing over every inch of the unique topography, the fewer our companions became. We soon came to a Y in the tube, and we chose the path less traveled (or at least the one that didn't have any headlights in it). We walked along on our own for a bit until we found ourselves completely alone in the cave, so we turned off our lights and marveled in the beauty of absolute darkness and total silence. The feeling was completely surreal, and we were frozen to the spot of ground on which we stood. The imagination plays interesting tricks on the mind, and I couldn't help but feel like I was standing on the edge of a cliff even though I knew that I was perfectly safe. It almost became too much, and after a few minutes we turned our lights back on to reveal our breath condensing once again in front of our faces and continued on. The ceiling rose and fell as we walked along until we came to a section where we had to crawl on our hands and knees with our packs scraping the roof. In the floor, you could see the flow of the lava and odd rocks forever immortalized in the frozen river and cracks that criss-crossed the floor formed from the cooling of the rock. Since our lights only illuminated a dozen feet ahead of us, we came upon the end of the tunnel very abruptly. There was no warning, just a narrowing of the cave until it dead-ended like a half-built railroad tunnel. We stopped for a quick break before turning around and heading out, taking the opposite side of the Y on the return trip and letting the darkness really seep into our beings. Although we had only been in the cave for less than two hours, the literal light at the end of the tunnel seemed strange and we crawled up out of the cave blinking and shedding our outer layers in the sudden heat. We soon adjusted and headed back to the Jeep and down the dirt roads. The flower-filled meadows beckoned us to frolic in them like little kids, so that's exactly what we did. The diversity and beauty of Arizona always amazes me, and it felt so good and so free to be running through the tall grass with a sweet pine breeze on the air. Afterwards we returned to Flagstaff for an early dinner at the Brewery before heading south on Lake Mary Road, where we resumed our explorations. Our search for the perfect camping spot sent us up the road towards Marshall Lake. Neither of us had been up there before, and the views from the top were incredible. We decided almost immediately that we would camp up there, but since we had a few hours of daylight left, we went back down to check out the southern part of Upper Lake Mary. The sunflowers and thistle growing among the driftwood made a spectacular foreground to the sun setting over the water and we sat down on a log and just watched the water for quite awhile, mesmerized by the lapping of the waves as if we were back on the ocean. With a little bit of daylight left, we gathered up some wood for a fire and returned to Marshall Lake. We found a secluded spot on the edge of the marshy lake and set up the tent and started a fire just as the last rays of sunlight slipped behind the San Franciscos. Our driftwood held out for longer than we thought it would, and our eyes soon grew heavy staring into the flames. I woke up to sounds of shrill water birds and got out of the tent to a bright, beautiful high altitude morning. After Kohl got up, we explored the shoreline and watched the outdoor version of Sunday morning cartoons as two guys attempted to float kayaks into the shallow reed-choked muck. Although the lake had its own beauty in the form of flora and waterfowl, it wasn't the first place that I would choose to kayak, and we got quite the show before we packed up camp to continue our exploration of the great state. With no agenda and a full tank of gas, we got to the intersection of Lake Mary Road and turned south. Just south of Lake Mary, we turned off to see what Ashurst Lake had to offer. The few miles along the high prairie gravel road were fairly interesting. Although the land is publicly owned, it is leased out to cattle farmers and as a result, cows were dotted all along the route. At one point, a big momma cow with even bigger longhorns charged across the road towards the Jeep and we both braced for impact before she decided that we weren't a threat to her calf and continued along her way. At the end of the road, we reached Ashurst Lake, a fair sized shallow lake with lots of rocks (and some potential jumping cliffs we think on the other side) surrounding it. There was lots of camping all over, but with the flat prairie surrounding the lake, it was kind of out in the open and not the most interesting place in the world. So, we turned around and decided to check out some of the trails. The Arizona Trail is a 790 mile trail that traverses the entire length of the state from Utah to Mexico, and took off from the Horse Lake trailhead (no, there is no lake, as we sadly found out) through the sparse pine forest towards Mormon Mountain. We went several miles and started to formulate new adventures for the American Fire team. Tentatively, we're going to try the trail in its entirety in the future. We figure it'll take a little bit less than 51 days and the budget won't be a fraction of an ocean row. We would have gone further down the trail, but we didn't want to spoil our future plans, so we took off again to find something new. A few more miles down the road, we came to the *almost* dry lake bed of Mormon Lake. It amounted to a large-scale version of Marshall Lake with marshy wetlands surrounding a good sized chunk of water in the middle. We drove around the entire lake until we came to a little village just in time for lunch, so we stopped at the Mormon Lake Lodge. The lodge was part museum, part restaurant, and they served a great lunch and had some incredible history of the area (everything from memorabilia of cattle ranchers and wild west feuds to stuffed mountain lions) hanging up on the walls. After lunch, we headed back around the lake, stopping at an overlook where bald eagles were supposed to be nesting. We didn't spot any of the birds, but a man who had set up a telescope set up let us watch a herd of several hundred elk grazing in the marshy area below. Our journey continued south through a high country thunderstorm on Lake Mary Road. Although I've only lived in Arizona for two years, I feel like I have explored quite a bit of it. Driving past dozens and dozens of brown signs pointing towards interesting parts of the national forests that line the road, I realized that it would take a lifetime to explore all of the amazing things that this state has to offer.

It was getting later in the day, so we opted not to explore any of the sites that claimed to be 10 miles or more from the highway, but after we met up with Highway 260 and finally through to 87, we pulled off to see what the Tonto Natural Bridge was all about. One of the great things about Arizona is how many amazing natural places you see absolutely free, and the $3 per person fee for the Natural Bridge had kept me away for awhile, but it was something that both of us wanted to see, so we paid the fee and went into the park. Even before we got to the namesake bridge, we got our money's worth by eating at least $6 worth of plums and blackberries from the grounds. After we got our fill, we walked over to the top of the bridge. Similar to the arches up in Utah, the unique geology of the land in combination with the forces of erosion had created a massive tunnel through the rock, creating a bridge over a creek below. We hiked down the trail to admire the view, play in the creek (unfortunately, the rangers wouldn't let us swim or cliff jump), and walk under the bridge. It was a good time, but we had gotten there near closing time, so we headed back up the trail, ate a few green apples that grew near the parking lot, and headed for home.

We returned to the 100 degree heat of Phoenix, but it had been a great weekend full of new adventures so we didn't mind too much and we look forward to many more great adventures in the future.

Mingus Mtn. and Christopher Creek Take #2

Yes, I know I've been slacking on the blog postings... life has been a bit hectic in the lab to say the least. Mostly for something a little bit like this and a really pain in the arse protein that refuses to be quantified. Maybe more on that later, I don't like thinking about it. To keep my mind off of it, evenings are filled with climbing, mountain biking, and ultimate frisbee. On the days when I don't have anything going on in the evenings, I'm afraid that blogging hasn't come up on the top of the list.

But, the weekends are still filled with adventures. On Friday (7/25/08), I finished up in the lab early and headed out to join a few of my fellow grad students at Mingus Mountain for a weekend of relaxing. It was 106 degrees out at 6 p.m. when I headed out of the Valley, and as I gradually drove higher in elevation, the temperature gradually came down. By the time I reached the top of the first set of mountains, it was 86, and soon after a high country monsoon blew across the highway, dropping the digits below 70. It was beautiful. A few hours later, I hopped off of the 17 and headed west on 279 towards Cottonwood and Jerome. It was the first time I had driven through the old mining town of Jerome, and its old, rainsoaked streets bathed in a fading twilight reminded me of my tramping days in the mountain town of Eniskerry in Ireland. I continued to climb up past the town as the sun fully set until the temperature read 55 degrees and I pulled off towards the campground. I wound a few more miles on a dirt road to the top of Mingus Mountain until I found my friends, huddled among the dripping pine trees around a glowing campfire. I set up my tent and broke out some adult juice boxes while the rest of our troupe showed up. We spent the night grilling, drinking, telling stories and just generally being the crazy grad students that we are.

We woke up the next morning to a bright, sunny day. After a leisurely breakfast of whatever we had sitting around (everything from Clif Bars, fiery hot potato chips, strawberries, and hot chocolate), we put on hiking shoes and headed out to explore. We first headed up to several of the vistas that make Mingus the beautiful place that it is. At the very top of the mountain, we were joined by a few hardcore downhill mountain bikers (I was jealous) and half a dozen hang glider pilots that were putting together their wings. We played on the glider ramp's edge for awhile until we realized that the conditions weren't going to be right for them to fly for a few hours, so we continued our explorations. We headed across the mountain to the fire tower, which, unfortunately for us (but good for the forest, I guess), was manned by a ranger and we weren't allowed to go up there. So we (ok, I) climbed trees instead to get a better view. We romped around for a bit before deciding that we didn't want to miss the gliders launching, so we hurried back across the mountain. We were about 300 meters away when we saw a guy preparing to launch, so we sprinted up to the launch site. It turns out that they have to wait until conditions are completely perfect, so he didn't launch for another 10 minutes. When he did, though, it was really magical. He ran down the length of the ramp and was airborne in less than a second, gracefully lifting himself into the air. While we waited for a second guy to launch, another pilot offered to let Jeremy and me try out one of the gliders. Although it was only 80 pounds, it was fairly awkward, and you'd definitely need some training before just taking off into the sky. We watched two others fly into the blue shortly after and we admired their flights for a long time, watching them gracefully catch thermals and rise high above us.

We spent the rest of the day playing frisbee, soccer, and eating and hanging out back in camp. Since it is impossible for me to sit still for more than 30 minutes when there are adventures to be had, I headed out for what I thought would be a nice, easy mountain bike ride. I started out on the gravel road that soon ended in a mud pit that was posing as a dirt road. It was a blast, and before long, I had mud caked in all crevices of the bike and every inch of my body. I rode the road as far as it went to the edge of the mountain and some radio towers and then turned around to try and tackle one of the mountain bike trails that Missing Link had also gone down earlier that day. It was less muddy, but filled with annoying skull sized rocks that made the trail painful even with full suspension. I didn't even make it a mile down the trail before I decided that I had had enough. I spun back to the road and blasted through the mud again before arriving back at camp, covered from head to toe in muck to the surprise of my clean campmates. Fittingly, Guy and Brad from ML pulled up behind me in a truck just after I came in, so I gave the Dirt Monkey a big muddy hug while they told me about their great ride down the mountain. I was a little bit jealous, but I was having fun of my own.

We spent the evening cooking over the fire, drinking, and reliving our crazy undergraduate days with a game of caps that lasted well into the morning. I don't remember heading to the tent, but I do remember waking up too early. I packed up and said goodbye to the few souls that had crawled out of their own tents at the early hour, and was on the road headed east by 7:30.

For two hours, it was just me, Michael Tolcher, the desert and the Jeep. It was a great morning to roll down the windows and watch the world roll past. I got to Christopher Creek around 9:30 with Bill, Melissa, Jason, Tyler, and his wife, Anshula arriving shortly afterwards. We started down the trail retelling adventures and just being the crazy gang of Team Escape. We hit the cold water of The Box and didn't look back, with the original team members jumping off cliffs, sliding down the slides, and just having a blast as we started to make our way down canyon. Shortly into the trip, we found a log floating in the stream and had an epic battle trying to stand on it while pushing our fellow team members off of it. Before we knew it, we came to the first of the bigger waterfalls and rather than the beastly scramble around it (as per ODP's trip last time), we opted to carefully downclimb the slick granite. Once Tyler helped all of us down, we both looked to the high cliffs above and then looked to each other. Of course it was possible... After a quick depth check, we scrambled back up and Tyler beat me to the punch, topping out on the 40' or so high shelf above the water while I was still crossing back to the other side of the creek. He made a great jump and landed safely below. I followed suit and I'll admit that my legs were shaking when I got to the top and peered below. But, there wasn't any backing out, and I lept as well. It was an incredible jump, and had a wicked rush... even better than the cliff at Tonto Creek. So good, that we both decided to do it again, and for the second jump, we brought relative newbie jumpers Melissa and Bill up for the ride. Both did a splendid job, and all four of us were high-fiving at the conclusion of some awesome jumps. We continued downstream for more slides, jumps, climbs, and lunch at a nice rock formation, where I found a liberty head dime from 1943.

After lunch, we continued on to the first rap of the day, where Jason and Bill put in new slings (the old one was secured by a very worn piton) and Bill, Anshula, Jason and I rapped down the 50' of the falls. Although a bit jealous that I had already rapped down, I depth checked for Tyler and found no bottom to the pool. He had a great jump from the top before Melissa joined us as well and we packed the rope for the next rap. The second rappel was from a log directly over a 25' waterfall. Although I could have jumped it, the rappel looked even more fun than jumping, and it certainly did not disappoint. There was a great little cave behind the falls that we hung out in for a bit before continuing on.

The rest of the trip was filled with more jumping, sliding, and the hilarious antics of Team Escape and before we knew it, we came to the side spring that marked the end of the canyon. The hike back out to the top wasn't bad and we got to the cars in great time. We ended the incredible weekend with some Mexican food in Payson and called it a day. It was an incredible weekend, but ended far too soon, and by 9 p.m., I was already back in the 100 degree humid monsoon heat, looking forward to the next adventure.