I am alive... just busy!

So, yeah. It's been a very busy couple of weeks, and I know I've been slacking on the blogging... so I'm going to catch up in one big go. Here it is. :)

Two weeks ago, summer really arrived in Phoenix. Biking to work any time after 8 a.m. is torture, and no matter what time I bike home, I am dripping in sweat by the time I get to the house. Even our Tuesday evening mountain bike races have an added element to them. But, it's good training for what will be the norm until October. So, when Jack, Hannah, and I headed out to the McDowell Mountain Preserve at 8 a.m. for a ride around the competitive tracks, we knew that we were going to be in for some serious heat. We first rode the 9 mile Long Loop, which was great training for all of us: Hannah gained her confidence back on the mountain bike, Jack and I played around with climbing up and hopping rocks, and we all got an incredible workout on the steep hills. And since none of us had ever been on sport loop, we headed over to the 4 mile track. It is probably my favorite loop now in the Valley: it's just four miles smooth hardpacked singletrack filled with twists, turns, drops, and rolling hills. Despite the heat, it was a great time, and we even tooled around on the technical loop for a little bit before heading back to air conditioning and fruit smoothies. Jack and I spent the majority of the afternoon playing volleyball in the pool. At around 3 p.m., I realized that I was exhausted after a full day in the sun, but instead of taking a nap, I headed out to Benedict Park for an ultimate frisbee hat tournament. My team had a slow start and we lost our first game, but we came back and crushed the next two teams. By finals, I was completely knackered, but still managed to play a bit against the stacked and undefeated champions before going home and crashing.

On Sunday, I was still exhausted, but weekends are too precious to just spend indoors, so I dragged my butt out of bed, filled my Camelback with water, lunch, and a good book and drove out to Saguaro Lake. The oppressive dry heat was laughing at my feeble attempts to hike out to the cove, but somehow I slowly managed to walk the three miles before I plopped down on a secluded little sandy beach on the crowded lake. I spent the remainder of the day swimming, reading, and just generally relaxing.

The next week was another busy one in the lab. All of us in the Mor lab scurried around all week trying to get last minute results before making posters and presentations for a conference down in Tucson. This was severely inhibited by a seemingly harmless incident down in our growth chamber. When we noticed that the temperature in the normally hot, humid chamber where we grow our tobacco was cold, we called a facility maintenance guy to come fix it. On Monday night, he came out and fixed it... while breaking a mercury thermometer in the process. He casually mentioned it to Pierre and went along his merry way. So, on Tuesday when we were going in and out of the chamber, we didn't think anything about it until Pierre mentioned the thermometer to our lab manager. And then all hell broke loose. We weren't going to do anything about it except call Environmental Health and Safely to sweep up the mercury, but they made all of us who had entered the chamber go over to the Health Center to get mercury poisoning tests. We filled out paperwork and waited for the doctors over there until we were told that they didn't have the correct tubes to collect our blood. So, they sent us over to Tempe St. Lukes Hospital. There, we filled out more paperwork, waited some more, got our vitals taken, were asked a lot of questions, and then told that we should be fine, and to just go home. While they were typing out our paperwork, an ASU police officer came over and asked us more questions. He sent over 6 of his police cars and a Tempe Fire truck to our building, and evacuated the floor, blowing the entire thing completely out of proportion. It was a broken thermometer for goodness sakes! So, 4 hours after we had gone to the Health Center, we were finally released to go home. The next morning, we were told that we had to go BACK to the Health Center because they now had the correct collection tubes. So, we filled out more paperwork, had our vitals taken AGAIN, and then had our blood and urine taken. It was not my idea of a good time, and by the time we were done, we had wasted almost a full work day so that they could tell me that I probably had more mercury exposure in my post-Papago race fish tacos than in the actual mercury spill.

On Thursday, I got out of the craziness of the lab and headed down to (the Mexican border) Sierra Vista for a library presentation to a group of summer reading program kiddos. It was a great group of about 60 kids ranging from kindergarten to middle school, and even though it was our first real (ie. paid) presentation since the race, we manged to do really well - without even going over the slides together before the presentation.

During the rest of the week, I continued to fill out worker's comp papers (as I said, it was a crazy mess), printed out my poster, and got ready for our conference. I finally got a chance to breathe on Friday evening, and had a very relaxing time barbecuing, swimming, and making good use of a borrowed SOLS projector for a movie night in Kohl's backyard.

On Saturday, ODP finally got back together again. It's been a long time since the three of us went exploring together, so we decided to go somewhere new. We drove north on Hwy 87 that is our summer artery. In addition to being the road that leads to Tonto Creek and Fossil Creek, it also heads to Payson, where we turned onto Hwy 260 to Christopher Creek. The town of Christopher Creek is a little rustic resort area with lots of campgrounds and cabins, but its namesake creek is the real reason for going up there. We parked along the highway just past mile marker 271 and hiked down the trail past the tall pines and manzanita scrub to the creek itself. Not far from where the trail met the creek, we came to what is known as The Box, where the creek plunges over a small waterfall and into the start of a wonderful canyon. For the next two miles and four hours, we were awed by the incredible oasis in which we found ourselves. The creek blended all of the good parts of our favorite Arizona spots: it had the waterfalls of Fossil Creek, the canyons and smooth granite of Salome Creek, the water flow and rapids of Tonto Creek, and the unique, unexplainable beauty of Havasu Falls. We couldn't stop smiling as we rounded each corner to find a new waterfall, a slide, a wall to climb, or just a new breathtaking view. I know I say it with each new place that we find, but I think that the Box Canyon of Christopher Creek is my new favorite place. After climbing the canyon walls up and around a slippery fall, we spent lunch playing at one of the most beautiful falls, swimming in the massive pool below it, and basking on the sun warmed rocks at the end of it. Every fall was more impressive than the next, and after several hours, we came upon a 50' beast. It was too bad that we didn't have ropes (or the confidence in our independent rapping skills), as it would have been an awesome rappel, so we climbed around the sides of the canyons to avoid it before returning to some incredible rock formations and slots in the canyon. By the end of the day, we were tired, but very, very happy. We managed to find the creek and trail that took us back to 260 and walked along the highway for a short bit back to our car. We ended the day at a little restaurant in Payson (4 course homemade dinner for $12) and checked out the adjacent bike shop. The owner had only been in Payson for 9 months, but had a sweet little hiking/biking/adventure shop set up and has some fun ideas for trails and races in the area. I'm sure you'll hear more about him and the Payson biking scene in the future.

On Sunday, the three of us headed back out for some ODP heat survival training on our bikes in the Phoenix Mountain Preserve. We hit Trail 100 at Dreamy Draw at 9 a.m. We were all tired from the day before, and the dry heat in combination with the steep trails felt like it was sucking the remaining life our of our bodies. I was feeling pretty crabby and lazy at the beginning, but fortunately, the training is good for us, and after awhile our bodies became more accustomed to the heat and I started having fun bombing down some gnarly rocky trails. It was a bit too fun though, and I didn't want to turn around even though I knew I had to be showered, dressed up, and ready for our drive down to Tucson for our conference at 11:30 a.m. By 10:00, we tried to get off the trails to cut across Cave Creek back to the parking lot, and ended up traversing up and down the suburban labyrinth instead. By 10:15 I was nowhere near the Jeep, and I started getting a bit nervous. I left Hannah and Angel behind and started sprinting towards Northern, the only road I knew in the area. I finally figured it out and got back to Dreamy Draw at 10:30. I sped back down the 51 and back to Tempe with just enough time to shower and change. I made it to campus with my hair still wet and just barely presentable for the conference, but I did make it.

Two hours later, we arrived at the Hilton El Conquistador Resort, nestled in the mountains, for the Annual World Congress of the Society for In Vitro Biology. It was a very motivational and inspiring day, listening to some amazing scientists present their research and standing by my own poster and explaining my research to others. By the end of the day, though, I was definitely whooped, and we drove back late that night, only to get up early and do it again the next day...

...And back to the AZ heat.

Although I greatly enjoyed my trip back to the land of green humidity, I returned to the Valley's dry heat. We've been fairly lucky this year with only a few days above 100, but I returned to full out summer. I spent the week days in the air-conditioned lab screening my (hopefully) Gag expressing stable line plants. I was like a new mother the way I coddled the 152 baby explants. It's taken me over two months of work to develop these genetically engineered cuties, and I couldn't be more proud. I am such a nerd when it comes to these things... but it is a very exciting time in my project. I spent the evenings and Saturday morning moving out of our old house and into Jack's place, and by the time that I swept the floor one last time, I was definitely ready to relax.

It's just too bad that by noon on Saturday, it was hovering around 100. Nevertheless, Kohl and I have a reputation for being crazy to keep, so we headed out for a Greenbelt ride anyways. We had a great ride along the bike path up past Scottsdale, stopping now and then in the shade to cool off. After riding several miles up past the golf courses and parks, we took the canal path back to Old Town for a lunch at Salty Senoritas where we enjoyed a great meal and the return of the misters on the porch. We rode back through Canal Park and back into Tempe in the late afternoon.

That evening, I headed to Dan's house for the annual Missing Links bike swap. If you needed anything at all for your bike, it was there, and someone was trying to get rid of it. It was a great social event with barbecue and lots of stories. My favorite part of the night was when a big group of us were standing around swapping stories, and we all went around the circle showing off our scars that we obtained while riding in Papago. It turns out that I'm not the only one (other than Hannah, of course) who has had a bad wipeout in the park. It was a great event, and by the end of the night I had gotten a cheap 24HOP jersey, a pair of socks, a bike computer, and a smokin' deal on..... A ROAD BIKE!!! Yes, me, the die hard mountain biker, bought a Trek 2500 with full Dur-ace components (brakes, derailleurs, shifters and cranks). It's a beauty and a wonderful addition to the family of bikes that Jack and I have in the garage (we have 3 each, plus his 4 motorcycles). So, bring on the streets and triathlons and long morning rides. I can't wait!

On Sunday, Angel, Christie, and her friend Amber and I returned to Tonto Creek for some more in-depth adventuring. Hannah took a big group out there for Memorial Day weekend, but with more than a dozen people and several dogs, they didn't get to explore the canyon as much as they would have liked, and so Angel and I were excited to see what else the beautiful place had to offer. We hiked to the creek and didn't even stop at the Narrows, continuing on further upstream to where we spent some time jumping off of smaller cliffs and swimming around. From the vantage point of our jumping ledges, the larger cliff that Hannah and I scouted the first time loomed upstream. Since Haydon had jumped it when they were there last weekend, I needed to validate my coolness and jump as well. The first time that I stood on top of the cliff, it was windy and cold, and the water looked like it was miles below us. When I climbed up there again, it didn't look any less far, but at least it was warmer. I stared at the water for more time than was necessary, and it almost cost me the jump. I have to admit that my legs were shaking as my mind began nominating me for the Darwin Award. But, I had to do it. Finally, I leaped off of the rock wall into nothingness. I think I reached terminal velocity sometime between the initial leap and my water shoes smacking into the deep pool. It was the best rush I had experienced in a long time. Truly awesome. Even though my nose was bleeding from the impact, the jump was fairly harmless and sooo much fun. I wanted to go back up again, but since we still had a lot of exploring to do, we continued on upstream. We boulder hopped our way up for awhile until Christie and Amber decided to hang out on the warm rocks, and Angel and I continued up further. Just a few hundred meters up from where the other two stopped, we came to a massive deep pool that had an equally massive slick granite boulder sitting smack dab in the middle of it. It was too much to resist, so Angel an I slid around for a few minutes in an attempt to scale the slippery beast before pulling ourselves up to the top. The slide down was awesome! Every face of the rock was slidable, and for the next hour, we hauled ourselves up and slid down like little sea otters having the time of our lives. When we realized that the other two weren't going to be joining us, we continued our explorations by climbing the cliffs, jumping back down again, and then heading more upstream. We finally came to a waterfall as the canyon walls closed in. The water was flowing fast, but I managed to swim under and behind the falls and finally managed to climb the slippery walls adjacent to the fall until I was above it. Looking up from the falls, I realized that the best was yet to come. Angel stayed behind, but I just had to keep exploring, so I went another 3/4 of a mile beyond the waterfall. Around every corner and above every rapid was a new area that awed me. Similar to Salome Creek, smooth pink granite abounded with smaller waterfalls and many additional slide rocks. I could have continued on forever, but I eventually turned around to join the group again. The return trip to the waterfall was great fun, and I just let the water carry me down the slick rock. By the time I got back to Angel, I was worn out but very satisfied with the day's explorations. I jumped back down the cliff and we rejoined the others for a bit of lunch and the hike/swim back. The creek would be absolutely perfect if it wasn't for the stream/string worms. These little black suckers attach themselves to every single rock by use of a small silklike thread in the fast flowing current, and when you try to slide down the rocks, they come with you... all over you. By the end of the day, we were all covered in the creepy little worms, but it was worth it. We hardly had to walk at all as we just let the current do all of the work. Finally, after a few more cliff jumps, we made it back to the Narrows. Several drunk guys were jumping off of ledges bigger than the one I had jumped before, and we wanted to get out of there before we had to witness someone really hurt themselves, so we collected a bit of their trash that was lying around and headed back to the trailhead and then Phoenix. I spent the evening chilling (literally, after Cold Stone ice cream and the sunset, it was actually quite cool in Phoenix) with some friends at Suda's pool and then called it a weekend.

Back Home Again in Indiana

Although I now spend my time exploring all that the Arizona desert has to offer, I owe my adventurous spirit to the woods and rivers of southern Indiana. I was happy to spend the holiday weekend back in the hills of my youth for a few days with my family and the natural world that gave me the inspiration to continue my explorations for the rest of my life.

I got in on Friday night, and by Saturday morning, my dad, sister, and I were on our way to the Clark County State Forest for a hike on the Knobstone Trail. Emi and I have wanted to hike the entirety of this famous trail for a long time now. The Knobstone Trail runs from Delaney Park in Washington County just north of Salem and ends 60 miles to the south near Deam’s Lake. It's the longest continuous trail in the state (plans are in the works to extend it another 80 miles), and many people use it as a training run for the Appalachian Trail. The trail snakes along through the Karst topography that makes the southern part of the otherwise flat corn-growing state so beautiful. The Knobstone trail exhibits all that I love about southern Indiana - tall trees, lush forests, rolling hills, and gurgling streams - and my sister and I were eager to see if it held up to our expectations. I have to admit though, our desire to hike the whole thing is tempered by the experience of two guys that we picked up a few years ago at the Henryville Forest fire tower. After two days of hiking they were jaded by “all the trees that just look the same," and we wanted to check out if it was true or not. Starting out on the border of Washington and Scott Counties, we hiked up to the top of the ridgeline from the creek bottom, with our hearts pumping and my lungs trying to adjust to the humidity in the air. The trail was all that we had hoped it would be, providing awe-inspiring vistas that looked out over the surrounding forested hills all the way down to Louisville. Wildflowers and GREEN blanketed the entire scene, and I was in heaven. We hiked for 11 miles along the ridges, through valleys, across clear streams, and deep into the southern Indiana forests, enjoying the lush diversity of flora and fauna along the trail. To my surprise, the woods were FULL of blueberry bushes, which until Dad bought the new farm in Crawford County, I would have never believed, as I spent a decade in the woods just north of there and had never seen them. But sure enough, half the bushes were filled with little green berries that promise to be tasty in about a month. By the last few miles, we were started to get (just a little bit, I really do love the woods) tired and jaded with the trees, and finally came out to the small clearing where we had parked the other truck. All in all, it was a great day, and I would happily hike the entire trail, and hope to do so in the future.

The next morning, we packed up the red canoe and a cooler, and headed to Milltown for our annual canoe trip. When I was very little, my favorite book was Three Days on a River in a Red Canoe, and I would spend many hours dreaming of my own trips down rivers. Shortly after we moved to the farm, we bought our own red canoe and my dad and I packed it for a 3 day, 60 mile canoe trip down the Blue River, starting at the bridge on our farm and ending near Corydon. If I had to give one defining moment in my young life that led me to my adventurous lifestyle, I would have to say that it was that first trip downriver. Although the first day started out sunny and in the shallow waters of the upriver Blue, it ended in a lightening storm a few hours before our intended campsite. I paddled my little heart out through the torrential downpour, pounding thunder, and log jams until we finally curved around a little bend in the river at Fredricksburg where I scarfed down the best soggy cookies ever and helped set up camp on the sharp boulders underneath the bridge. Never had I been more appreciative of warm food and a dry clothes. When we set out the next day, we had to abandon our dry camp and paddle back out into the rain, instantly soaking our bodies once again. But, the rain had raised the water levels considerably, and the skies cleared to reveal some incredible rapids that we flew through all the way to Milltown. By the last day, we had gotten really good at scouting the rapids, and I was absolutely hooked on the thrill of speed and adventure. I left the river that Memorial Day with a smile on my face, and with the exception of one or two years in college, I've been doing it every year since. Although we only took a day trip this year, it was still just as fun, especially considering that over the last few years I have graduated from the simple paddling in the front of the canoe to steering in the back - which is a total rush to feel the control you have as you maneuver through rapids. I held the rudder position the majority of this year's trip, with Emi sitting up front and Dad relaxing on the cooler in the middle of the boat - much to the amusement of some other paddlers on the river. We loved it. The river has changed considerably in the 12 years that I've been running it, and they now have commercial canoe trips on the lower part of Blue River, but we still were able to enjoy the peace and tranquility of the river after we passed the majority of the novices. We saw deer, turtles, ducks, snakes, and all sorts of wildlife along the banks, sipped from the springs that flow out of the hills, and just drank in the beauty of it all. Much to the confusion of my family, I tried to take pictures while steering, and at one point, had the canoe pointed into the rocks just as we were about to enter a set of rapids... oops. After lunch, Dad took the back seat and I sat up front while Emi took pictures in the middle. We ended the day dropping over the edge of the ruins of an old dam near Corydon (my favorite one, the river drops several feet in the course of about 20 meters, and it feels soooo good to run it), and finally portaged south of Harrison-Crawford State Forest after a fun full day on the water.

On Memorial Day, I spent the day watching the rain from the front porch, eating good home-cooked food, and playing with the half dozen baby ducks that my dad brought home from my grandpa's. They're the cutest things, and by the end of the weekend, I had them following me around the yard like a momma duck. Alas, I eventually had to leave the land of rain and green, and we headed to the airport in the evening. And since Louisville is the home of Yum! Brand Foods, my sister and I couldn't leave the airport without hanging out with Colonel Sanders of KFC fame. After some Asian tourists got done taking pictures with the statue, we sat down on the bench next to him, much to Angela's embarrassment and our delight. I love my family! Overall, it was a great to see my family, hang out in the southern Indiana wilderness, and spend a relaxing holiday weekend at home.

"It's waterproof"

After a busy week of ultimate frisbee, climbing, (not purposefully) injuring Hannah while mountain biking at Papago Park, and a full week in the lab trying to get my plants to express gp41, I was certainly ready for the weekend. On Saturday, after a quick trip to REI for my first garage sale (they're crazy!), Kohl and I headed out to the Verde Valley for some relaxing in the Hot Springs and Fossil Creek. Kohl had never been up in the area, so the drive up there was an adventure in and of itself. We were going to try to see what fun Sycamore Creek could offer, but our scouting reports from the highway above didn’t offer much promise for water, and we decided to keep going and tough out the 20 or so miles of rough road to the hot springs. When we got there, the usual crowd of rednecks abounded (much to our humor) as we hiked across the Verde to the springs. Always looking for an adventure, we decided to hike up the ridgeline instead of crossing the river, and ended up walking along the edge of a cliff before sliding down the scree that finally shot us out to the base of the springs where a (ubiquitous) naked drunk guy welcomed us to the area. But, he soon left and we had the place to ourselves for a bit while I showed Kohl all around the little oasis and we alternated between relaxing in the pools, cliff jumping, swimming through the rapids of the Verde, and splashing in the hot water that falls over the edge of the banks. It was great laughing like old times and just being our crazy selves. Of course, I was documenting the whole thing taking loads of pictures. As we were sitting by the pool with the camera, I mentioned to Kohl that it was ok if it got wet, as it was waterproof. For some reason, I tell her this every time we're near water with the camera. "Really, it's waterproof...? I didn't figure that out when we used it every day on the Atlantic." I don't know whether I forgot about rowing the Atlantic, using the camera out there, or the fact that Kohl was never further than four feet away from me during the entire trip, but I have stated the obvious to her on so many occasions that it's become a running joke.

After we had our fill of the hot springs, we made our way back downriver, taking a few minutes to ponder exploring the old ruins of the power plant before driving back to Fossil. At the trailhead, Kohl and I thoroughly explored the creek's many pools, swimming and just basking in the beauty of it all. I absolutely love the area, and it was great being able to share the joy of it. We spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring and swimming and jumping in the blue green waters. We didn’t even make it up to the bigger of the small falls, but I got to see pools that I had never swam in before and it was well worth it. Once we had exhausted ourselves in the pools, we played like little kids in the small puddles that line the creek and watched the tadpoles and other small creatures swimming around. We couldn’t resist bringing some home to attempt a little aqueous biosphere (I’m afraid it didn’t last too long). After a long day, we came home and had an excellent meal of potato soup and I prepared for the next great adventure.

On Sunday, a group of 12 intrepid Phoenicians drove out to the Salome Wilderness in Tonto National Forest out near Roosevelt Lake for a little canyoneering trip in Salome Creek. Armed with ropes, harnesses, belay devices and a whole lot of excitement, we hiked out a few miles from the trailhead to the creek. It was all desert before the creek, and unless you knew what was waiting ahead, you would have never thought that an oasis was tucked in below Dutchwoman Butte. The trip would have been perfect, but one careless mistake cost me one of my favorite and most versatile piece of outdoor equipment. With my camera tucked snugly in the pocket of my boardshorts, I excitedly half jumped/half fell into the creek and started walking along the creek for a few feet before the bottom turned to algae. Not wanting to get caught up in the muck, I started swimming. A few feet later, I remembered about my camera, checked my pocket, and realized that the indispensable piece of equipment was no longer there. It may have been waterproof, but it certainly didn't float. After 10 minutes of fruitless fishing through the muck, we had to continue on without it. I was heartbroken and quite peeved at myself. That camera had lasted me dozens of trips, taken thousands of pictures, and survived several falls to the bottom of other creeks, drops off of rocks, and an ocean. I was devastated at the loss. Alas, Salome Creek was as good of a distraction as any, and it was gorgeous - plus I try to always carry an extra camera and photographer, usually in the form of Hannah. After snaking our way through several boulder fields and small waterfalls, the creek entered a narrow canyon surrounded by pink granite walls. We swam, jumped, and slid our way through the deep clear pools, waterfalls, and slick waterslides. It was better than a water park, and much more awe inspiring. It was certainly an adult playground, and for hours we splashed through the canyon, our laughter echoing off of the ever growing walls. After a few miles of incredible fun, we arrived at a large pool surrounded by perfect jumping cliffs and ending in a 30' waterfall. While Bill set up the ropes for the rappel, Haydon and I launched ourselves off of the walls and plunged into the cold pool. Finally, we started one by one down the rope into another large pool below. Once we were all safely to the bottom, we swam out to the end of the canyon with huge smiles on our faces. In a bit of reverse karma from losing my camera, Hannah almost became a casualty of a splashing war between Pierre and I. Fortunately for all of us, the massive rock that I threw (narrowly) missed her head. The hike back out wasn't too bad, as our waterlogged bodies fought off the evening sun with great efficiency. We ended the weekend with a meal in Tonto Basin and drove home happy with another great adventure in the books.

Lovely Month of May

May is one of my favorite months, mostly for the change that it brings. I thrive on change and new experiences, so with the advent of summer months, I'm a happy kid. During the last week, the campus filled with stressed students taking exams, then filled with throngs of parents and families in town for graduation, and then... emptied. As a graduate student, I really do appreciate the summer months - even with the Valley heat. There is truly something relaxing about biking to work without having to worry about dodging cars careening through red lights, hippy kids on longboards, or clueless girls on cell phones who haven't quite mastered the idea of moving two wheeled objects. It's also nice to be able to go to Sack's once again without having to stand in line. The full time residents of the university have the place to ourselves once again, and life is good. Without regularly scheduled lab meetings, seminars, or colloquiums, we are also given the complete freedom to work more efficiently. It doesn't mean that we necessarily do, as the academic atmosphere is much more relaxed during the break, but the freedom and the lazy days of summer do make for a very enjoyable few months.

I started my first day of "summer" on Saturday with Jack, exploring the desert that surrounds the area known as Pima Dynamite in Scottsdale. Jack used to ride the sandy singletrack quite often to train for dirtbike races, but many of the trails are now closed to motorized traffic,* so he can no longer ride his favorite 70 mile loop. It's too bad, as the trails are incredible, though tough for those of us whose two-stroke engines don't require a gas-oil mix. It took me at least half an hour to warm up on the surprisingly difficult trail. Although the trails didn't appear technical, the sand coupled with boulders and a little bit of elevation made the first part of our first loop tiring. It was definitely worth it though, because after we rounded a small mountain, the trail was all down. Jack and I had a blast zooming around boulders and down and around a hard packed rollercoaster surrounded by red blooming ocotillo and yellow palo verde. As I was following Jack and enjoying a particularly winding downhill section, a baby fox that wasn't much bigger than two fists darted across the trail and stopped scared in its tracks right in the middle of my line. I tried to brake, and let out a scream as I felt a bump under my back tire. Jack doubled back, assuming by my fearful scream that I had gotten bitten by a snake, while I hopped off my bike and watched the little guy limp off into the bushes. Although we both tried to scrounge him back out of the brush to make sure that he was ok, all we managed to do was startle a rabbit, so we had no choice but to hop back on our saddles and continue along our way. I felt really bad for the baby, considering that I spent much of my childhood watching my mom (Happy Mother's Day, I love ya!) move turtles off the road and having never hit anything bigger than a toad with a car, much less a bike. The rest of our first lap went without mishap though, and we had so much fun that we took a second one around some different singletrack. After more than two hours, Jack's tubeless back tire had started to deflate, so we took one of the fire service roads along the powerlines back to the truck in the company of dozens of dirtbikers, quad riders, and mountain bikers happily sharing the beauty of the trails.

Saturday afternoon was spent at my advisor's house for one of his incredible parties. He provided his house, pool, and a grill FULL of marinated beef and chicken while the rest of my lab provided a keg of Newcastle, dozens of side dishes, live music (provided by Ryan and his band), and lots of party spirit. We spent hours eating, playing with the lab's many kids, swimming, and sharing stories of the past year. Towards the end of the evening, Dr. Mor broke out the champagne to toast our graduates (we had five this year, including a master's and four undergraduates). And then, after much anticipation, he revealed to us that... he HAD indeed acquired tenure at ASU. All of us erupted in a huge, relieved applause. I was so happy for him and the rest of our lab, as ASU has some pretty bad politics revolving around tenure, and had he not been granted tenure, all of our futures at the university would be in jeopardy. Our celebrations went long into the evening until I pulled Dr. Mor's youngest shivering son out of the pool and headed back home. Hannah, Ryan, the keg, and I spent the rest of the evening chilling at the house.

On Sunday, I had planned to get some work done around the house and American Fire, but I am a water baby through and through, so all it took for me to abandon my work was a phone call from Suda promising a free day at the Sunsplash Waterpark. It was Honeywell's employee appreciation day, and Brandon, Phil, Suda and I had a great day being kids - racing down waterslides, relaxing in the lazy river, screaming on a free fall tube ride, getting shot around a really cool water cauldron, eating popsicles, and just generally having an incredible watersoaked day.

After a fun, exhausting day, I went home to change, grabbed my climbing harness, and headed back out - this time to Camelback mountain to join Pierre, Evelyn, Hannah, and Erika for a bit of climbing and rapping on one of the many boulders in Echo Canyon. Pierre taught us how to tie brakes, attach ropes, lower ourselves down, climb up, and belay on the real rock. For hours we enjoyed scrambling all over the boulder and drinking tea until we had to break out headlamps and head back down to the parking lot.

Overall, it was a great weekend with lots of diverse fun. Wanting to squeeze one last adventure out of the weekend, and taking advantage of the fact that neither of my roommates were home, I decided to do a little bit of experimenting with my Indian cooking. I won't go into great detail about the disaster that ensued, but I will just say that I learned many lessons from my ordeal: a). you are supposed to roast sooji before you boil it, otherwise it turns into a mushy paste that looks (and tastes?) like glue, b). I haven't quite figured out which Indian spices go with what, ie. mustard seed goes with everything, garam masala doesn't, c). gluey paste mixed with spices and chicken still doesn't taste good, and finally, d). a hefty dose of ketchup will save just about any meal. Satisfied with a jam packed weekend, I went to bed with a gurgling stomach and a happy heart, excited about the first week of summer ahead of me.

* As it turns out, Saturday was the last day for ANY motorized traffic on ANY of the Pima Dynamite trails, due to the lobbying of the Sierra Club. It's really a shame, as the motor guys out there are respectable riders and are the ones who made and maintained the trails in the first place, so they don't deserve a $1200 fine for using public land.

Dad Vails

This will be the first time in seven years that I won't be spending the second weekend of May in Philadelphia as a rower, speaker, or coach at the Dad Vail National Championship Regatta. Vails has been one of my favorite events since I was a freshman at Purdue, and I cherish a million memories from the infamous race on the Schuylkill River. Along Boathouse Row, home to the Schuyhkill Navy, you can feel the presence of the thousands of rowers that have graced their hallowed walls and docks over the last 150 years. As you walk past, you can't help but feel overwhelmed with an incredible sense of pride and tradition that accompanies the sport. The Dad Vail represents the culmination of an entire year of blood, sweat, and tears: from long - if not idyllic - fall days building our endurance base, to cold winter mornings trudging through the snow to the musty basement of Lambert Fieldhouse to pound out hours on the ergs, to the toughest week of the season spent on Lake Hartwell in Clemson hammering out piece after piece in preparation for the races ahead of us, to the entire joy that is the spring season with its share of tough battles, poignant victories, lessons learned, and bonds forged with the strength and commitment that it takes to propel an 8 oared shell across the water. As you unload, rig, and walk the boats down to the docks that line the Schuyhkill, you realize that you are representing not only your crew and university, but also the very spirit of the sport, as every action you take is one that countless oarsmen have taken many times before between the river's shores. Warming up on the far side of Peter's Island, basking in the sweet smell of the locust blooms during the last few minutes before the race, lining up alongside some of the best club teams in the nation, putting all of your focus on the rower in front of you as the official raises his flag, channeling the adrenaline coursing through your veins into those first few strokes, rowing into oblivion as your legs and lungs cry out for oxygen, and finally slumping over your oar after seven minutes and 280 strokes of anaerobic hell. Lather, rinse, and repeat a few more times until finals on Saturday, and you have the Dad Vail Regatta. For those of us who have had the honor to row in the regatta, these battles are a microcosm of our lives, and they mean the world to us. From my innocent days as a novice, smiling on the winner's dock with my coach and eight teammates after an unbelievable, undefeated season. To my first year on varsity, Kohl and I posing with our silver medals from two different boats for a grainy picture that would later end up on the front of The Exponent for our first American Fire article. To a disappointing loss during the semifinals of my junior year that resulted in the most disheartening 2nd place finish in the petite finals. To a tumultuous senior year with a new coach and my teammates of four years being split between two different boats for the last race of our collegiate careers - ending it as we began, together with gold medals on the winner's dock, surrounded by the best friends a Boiler could ask for. When the 14 of us seniors locked hands and jumped off the launching dock into the muddy waters for the last time as members of Purdue Crew, we were all taking a bit of each other with us to the next stages in our lives. For me, that next stage of my life nearly ended it, and by the time I arrived on the banks of the Schuyhkill a year later, I was a much more mature person, delivering not a portside Power 10 through the Strawberry Mansion Bridge, but an inspiring speech to the graduating class, as Olympic team coach Mike Teti had done for me and my own class the year before. For the first time, I sat in the alumni tent with my former teammates and finally got to enjoy a beer while watching the races. Though we had looked forward to that day since our freshmen years, we felt out of place, and would have gladly traded traded places with those in unis for one more shot at the glory of collegiate rowing.

The circle was finally completed last year, with me in khakis and an embroidered polo, pushing my novice kids off of the dock after months of learning and growing on all levels. In them, I could see pieces of myself five years prior - young and wide eyed, scared but proud and prepared to leave everything on the water, knowing that their teammates were doing the same. Although the closest they came to the winner's dock was rowing back up towards St. Joe's boathouse, I still couldn't have been more proud of them. Together, as a team, we had overcome hundreds of obstacles to get there, and our little crew from the desert proved what it took to be a Dad Vail rower: hard work, faith, teamwork, dedication, and perseverance. The next day, we sat in the bleachers and watched as Purdue set a precedent by winning both the men's and women's varsity 8's races - a first in the history of the Dad Vail. As they hoisted the team points trophy over their heads as my own teammates and I had done in years past, I was overwhelmed with an amazing sense of admiration for my Purdue team, my ASU team, the sport of rowing, and the spirit that encompasses the whole of the Dad Vail Regatta.

Dad Vails is an incredible place, full of pride, pain, guts, and glory. Although I will personally miss the regatta this year, I wish the best to every coach and athlete that will be participating, and especially... Boiler Up!

May Days

When you were a little kid, you never thought of your teachers as real people with real lives... they were just your teachers and that was it. When the end of the school year came around and you celebrated the sweet summer ahead, you figured that your teachers just crawled back into their caves and waited around for the next three months dreaming up place value worksheets and scheming up other evil ways to torture you when you returned in August. You would have never conceived that they were celebrating much harder than you were at the advent of summer. Well, it's completely true. Now that I'm a grad student and (a little bit) closer to the top of the academic food chain (see here), I get to reap the full benefit of the prof's celebrations in the form of free drinks at the School of Life Sciences End of the Year Happy Hour. I hadn't planned on drinking at all, and was content with my massive plate of Mexican happy hour fare, but since it's bad etiquette to refuse a tequila shot from professors, I had to oblige. Let me just say, it is awesome to sit around with your friends and watch normally conservative, intellectual professors take shots. Priceless. When free alcohol abounds, so do the stories that you'd never hear during seminars, and I couldn't resist the combination of the two. Between Macayo's and Mamacita's, we had plenty of both in a wonderful Cinco de Mayo night of debauchary.

Although Coronas are an excellent tool for having a great night out, they don't do much for installing new brakes. After I biked home from the bars, I dug out the brand new brake pads from my bag and put them on around midnight in anticipation of a ride around South Mountain in the morning. Needless to say, they did not pass the 6 a.m. quality control inspection. I groggily repositioned and tightened them before heading out to meet Jack and his buddy Josh for a Mormon/National Trail loop. One of my old coaches in high school always recommended that if we practiced with people that were better than ourselves, then we had no choice but to become better ourselves. Well, it was true for the shortest JV forward on Eastern's basketball team, and it's still true today. Jack is a better biker than me, and Josh is an absolutely stellar mountain biker who practically lives on South Mountain. By 7:30, I was completely regretting my decision to drink the night before, as even the fire road to the trailhead was laughing at my attempts to keep up with the guys. Things didn't get much better once we got to Mormon. Jack and I both struggled up the infamous, aptly named hill, "The Widowmaker," while Josh raced ahead and waited for us every few hundred meters, giving us great advice for tackling different switchback sections. I appreciated the advice, but my head was pounding and all I wanted to do was go back down and take a nap. Although the majority of the way out was up, both Jack and I learned a great deal about how to tackle some of the rough sections, and by the turn around point on National, we were definitely ready to head back down. The return trip was incredible, and both of us stayed on the bike the majority of the time, with the exception of the waterfall, which I didn't even get to see Josh bomb down because he was so much faster than us. Even though we were much slower than Josh, both Jack and I felt that we had improved a great deal since our first National run, gaining both control and confidence in our skills. The trail really is addictive, and I can't wait to get back out there again.

After the ride, I headed up to Scottsdale and met up with Angel and Christie. After a short detour to REI, we headed to Fossil Creek. The area had been so beautiful last weekend that we just couldn't resist going back up there. It was midafternoon by the time we arrived, so we hoisted our heavy packs and made our way to the first of the big falls without stopping. It had been a year since I had been to the oasis, but it hadn't changed much and was as incredible as it was the first time I saw it. Loads of water cascaded over the travertine cliffs, and we played in the deep blue-green pools to our heart's content. After playing around for awhile in the waterfall, we continued on upstream until we found a good spot to camp. Our choice was a good one: a small sandbar with plenty of hammock trees just upriver of a smaller fall with several swimming pools, and adjacent from some gurgling rapids. I set up my hammock and gathered firewood while Christie and Angel put up their tent and hammock. In no time, we were feeling at home. Although we didn't have enough time to hike up to the Flume Falls, we continued exploring upriver for the next few hours, swimming through the rapids, hopping the boulders, and admiring the amazing geology that adorned the cliffs. We've been to the Fossil Creek area several times now, and I had never noticed the quartz/gypsum structures in the rock before. The formations appeared as though lightning had struck and melted the quartz, leaving smooth pockets of layered glass-looking rock. It was the coolest looking thing, and for the rest of the trip, I would keep my eyes peeled for unique pockets of the natural glass. After a little more hiking around, we headed back towards camp, making sure to play in the pools, rapids, and waterfalls below our camp before the evening became too cold to swim. When we could no longer stand shivering behind the falls, we changed into dry clothes and started a fire in preparation for dinner. It was the first real camp fire we've had while backpacking (usually its too dry to have one), and it was a very warm, welcome change. For dinner, we had bread and cheese as appetisers and then baked vegetables in tin foil in the fire for the main course. Coupled with a package of Mountain House noods 'n' chicks and topped off with a few liters of pinot noir, it was an excellent meal. After several servings of wine and a few hours listening to gurgling spring and tree frogs while watching the stars through the trees, I curled up in my hammock and was rocked to sleep. Curled up in the cocoon of my hammock and sleeping bag, I couldn't hear or see anything, and I didn't end up emerging from my bed until the sun had filtered through the trees of the valley. The three of us ate oatmeal and had spiced cider for breakfast, once again enjoying the fire and the peacefulness of the area before breaking camp. Once we had packed up and hidden our packs in a small thicket, we did what I never thought I would willingly and knowingly do again: we hiked up the hill across the creek to the Flume Road. The first time we attempted this, we failed magnificently, and were rewarded with cactus in places that we'd rather not mention. The climb was still long, steep, and prickly, but the fact that we knew there was a road up there did make things easier. We did eventually get up there, and then hiked along for another 3 or 4 miles to the Flume Falls. The power plant and associated flume on the springs had just been decommissioned a few years ago, so the riparian areas surrounding Fossil Creek are still adjusting to the differences. Last year when we went to the falls, the dam itself was dry enough to walk across. This year, water poured over the berm, and we had to cross downstream of the falls. The place was as gorgeous as I remembered though. I swam through the deep pools, up the strong rapids, under the hole in the rock, and out into the still pool across from the falls before diving off of the rocks and swinging from the rope swing. Once we had played ourselves out, we headed back along the Flume Road, and then hiked/slid back to where we hid our bags and continued on downstream. From there, we stopped back at the bigger falls for some more fun. Again, we played behind the falls, jumping into the amazing current and getting tossed around in the undertow before it spit us out a few meters later. Like a happy little sea otter, I floated on my back and simply smiled at the simplicity and beauty of it all while I wore myself out swimming around the falls. Later in the afternoon, we hiked down to a smaller falls with plenty of fun areas around it and spent the last part of the day jumping off of the falls, exploring the travertine formations above the falls, and just relaxing on the smooth warm rocks along the creek. Once we were completely worn out from our playing, we returned to the car and headed back south. We stopped at a great Mexican restaurant in Payson and gorged ourselves on chips and salsa, burritos, and margaritas before making our way back to the Valley. All in all, another amazing weekend.