Bear Baiting

Hibernating bears generally don’t sleep on logs.  Not the hibernating bears I’ve known anyways.  They sleep in caves.  That’s the way I always imagined it and the way it is.  But this bear slept on top of a log, belly in sky, short bear arms folded across stomach with chest raising up and down like a cartoonish sleeping drunk.  He was not sleeping though, no question about that.  He was hibernating.  On top of the log, like a drunk, in a cartoon.  The discrepancy in color from his snout to his fur was drastic, it must have been disconcerting for him. 

 I didn’t want to disturb him.  He was big, black and menacing.  In a strange way he also looked comfortable.  David didn’t feel the same as me.  He poked him with a stick.  Provoking hibernating bears on a dreamscape mountain side that is steep and layered with deadfall is a nonsensical thing to do in any scenario.  You can’t count on speed, running across deadfall and bears are fast even running down hill.  But, poking a hibernating bear with a stick when armed with nothing more than the poking stick is really illogical.  Bears are mean when they are sleepy.

It took a bit, at least a poke or two, but David woke that bear up.  He looked at David, he looked at me and then he got pissed.   It took him awhile to get down off the log.  Longer than I was expecting but it still wasn’t long enough.  He was on top of us quickly.   Steaming behind us, bear breathe, grunting and growling.  I remember wishing David hadn’t poked the bear at all.  He could have just left him there sleeping, and that would have been much better.  The bear would be sleeping on the log and David and I would be sitting by a river watching trout jump and feeling pretty good.  Instead we were bounding down a hillside, flying from log to log (with otherworldly precision) trying to evade a pissed off black bear.  David dropped the stick too, so there was also that. 

 The landscape shifted when running from the bear.  My perspective changed.  I was outside myself, looking down, pulling the strings.  I could see the forest, David me and the bear all running in circles.  From my new vantage point the bear wasn’t so clearly in charge.  We all looked ridiculous chasing each other.  The scenery was stunning. 

Things were happening quickly now for the three of us.  Someone hit the fast forward button.  David and I got smarter.  I ran in one direction and David in another things, we looped backwards, we sidestepped, we juked and jived.  Things got tricky for the bear.  He couldn’t eat both of us.

Dave left, me right, running in circles.  The bear still sleepy but driven by bearlust, a need for revenge.  Wouldn’t it be easier to let us be, to forget about the poking?  This chasing stuff wasn’t going well for anybody.   But we kept running and circling and bounding from log to log;  all three of us in some sort of mad revenge seeking, kill or be killed scenario.  I could see it all from above, like a video game.

The hill got steeper.  It fell away into a long scree slop that gave way to sheer cliffs.  The scree might be manageable, but the cliff, no one could run down that, it was a real cliff.  Back together now, Dave and I evaluated our options.  We jumped.  We had no choice, the bear was right no top of us.  We hit the scree first, together, sliding crazily toward the drop.  Heels digging, rocks spraying, grabbing, trying to hang on.  I caught the root of a low hanging scrub and was able to stop the free fall.  David did the same.  We were close enough to the cliff to see down, into the river valley below.  It was a really pretty place.    

Above, the bear looked down at us confused.  If he was less pissed he would have realized there was no way for us to get back up the scree slope without coming right to him.   He could have waited us out.  But he was still really mad and he wasn’t thinking clearly.  Anger does that.  He jumped down after us and began the sliding, digging, rock spraying all over again.  He was headed right at me, more bear breathe, snout almost white compared to the rest of him.  Sliding down hill and headed right between David and I. 

If he had opposable thumbs we would have been in big trouble.  As it was he couldn’t grab a bunch of roots and stop.  He couldn’t stop at all really.  He careened right between us, belly first, short bear arms splayed in four directions, perplexed by a bad decision and finally more focused on surviving than on revenge.  It was too late for the bear.  We watched him slide right past us and right off the cliff.  Bear faaaaalllliiiiinnnnnggggg.  Nobody likes to get poked with a stick when they are sleeping, but is it worth dying over?  Huh, bear?   

Golden Gate Heights - Urban Hiking w/ Linz

A couple of weeks ago the Chronicle published a list of the best staircases in the Bay Area with pictures. In typical Chronicle form it was a mediocre article but the comment section made reference to a book called "Stairway Walks in San Francisco" by Adah Bakalinsky - which was very highly recommended by multiple people.

I picked it up and Lindsey and I have been talking about getting out and exploring some parts of the city we don't know well since it arrived.  We finally got out there yesterday after I finished the Alcatraz swim. It was beautiful San Francisco day, crystal clear, super windy and fantastic. We wandered through parts of the city we had never seen and really didn't know existed and there is not a better way to get a feel for these neighborhoods than on foot.

Lindsey on the mosaic steps on Moraga and 16th 

More sunshine and more stairs!

There are a lot of stairs in San Francisco

This is without a doubt the greatest swing I have found in San Francisco.

There are no worries on a swing with a view and a crisp ocean breeze

This staircase led to the top of Grand View Park which was unbelievable!

This view was completely unobstructed in every direction

Descending to 14th Street

Last Stairs - off Aloha Ave (Aloha Ave, who knew?) 

'Cross Eyed

An hour in hell. That’s how cylocross was first described to me and as I near the conclusion of my second season racing I’d say, yup, that pretty much sums it up. Actually, most local cyclocross races are 45 minutes, so to be factual, cylocross: 45 minutes in hell! Although those 45 minutes in hell are followed by the most intense, overwhelming satisfying endorphin rush I’ve experienced in a lifetime of sports, ranging from wrestling to long distance running. And the pure misery of the 45 minute all-out effort that is cyclocross is alleviated, at least partially, by the chaos that is a cyclocross race.
Picture a hundred people on bikes, riding at a full on sprint, attempting to navigate an obstacle course of a “track” that is often less than 5 feet wide, and comprised of everything from hair pin turns, giant mud pits, massive wooden barriers and the occasional manmade lake. Now picture that course lined with 100’s of spectators, banging cowbells, screaming and tempting the racers to quit with offers ranging from cold beer to hot bacon. Now add in pouring rain and winter temperatures, all set to a sound system blaring deafening 90’s hip hop and that’s cyclocross! Fun, right?

A couple of years ago I bought a cyclocross bike to use as a commuter. In many ways cylocross bikes are the perfect do everything machine. With no suspension and the geometry of a road bike they much more efficient than mountain bikes in covering long distances. With knobby tires and a beefier frame than a traditional road bike they are capable of riding off road. My cyclocross bike, which I affectionately referred to as Burrito Bike, is the work horse in my stable. I use it in bad weather and for the “I just need some exercise” rides that I don’t always feel like doing. It is on the cylocross bike that I burn the calories that enable to me to live largely off burritos. Thus the name! Burrito Bike was a great bike from the moment I got it and I rode it a ton, but I didn’t really have any intention of actually racing it.

Then, on a Saturday night in early fall of 2010 I got a text from Wes asking if I wanted to check out a cyclocross race in Oakland the next day. Wes had the morning clear and thought he’d go see what Bay Area cyclocross races were all about and maybe take some pictures. He, of course, implied that because I already owned a cyclocross bike I should probably actually do the race. There is a C category for “beginners” and I was riding a lot at the time so I thought it would be worth a shot. I didn’t really know what to expect but I considered myself a pretty strong rider and I thought in the back of my head I had a chance to win the thing. A bunch of beginners, how tough could it be?

That first race was eye opening. I got “lapped” in the first 25 minutes and pulled off the course to clear the way for the leaders as they duked it out for the win. Getting “lapped” means the leaders were riding nearly TWICE as fast as I was and I ended up finishing almost dead last. Bam, take that ego! I later learned that C’s are supposed to coordinate roughly with Cat 4/5 on the road bike, certainly not Lance Armstrong, but a long ways from a true beginner cyclist.

Over the rest of the 2010 season, I did two more races although in these races with Wes racing alongside me (Wes, was so impressed by the scene in Oakland that first day that he bought a bike on the spot, in the parking lot). The following races in 2010 played out much the same as the first one, struggling for 20 minutes to not fall or get run over then getting lapped by the lead riders and pulled from the course before the race was done. So much for being a strong rider!

Despite my miserable performance in the three races I took park in, at the end of the 2010 season I was completely hooked on cyclocross. This was head to head racing like I had never experienced in the long distance racing I had done in the past. The intense burn of the short race, the crowds and the sense of community felt more like a high school wrestling match than a triathlon and again, the endorphin release after each race was crazy.

I road my bike a lot in 2011, almost every day. I was on my bike so much it often felt like a second job, a really great job but still a job. In the back of my head I was always thinking about cyclocross. How is it possible that many guys are that much faster than me? With the aid of a new online computer program called Strava I was able to track my training progress throughout the year and when the cyclocross season rolled around in late October I knew I was a stronger than I was last year. I still had no idea how I would stack up to the rest of the field.

In preparing for the first race of the year, with the help of some very experienced racers, I developed a plan. I was going to get to the race early, get in a good warm up, line up at the front and when the whistle blew I was going to kill myself for the first lap and see how long I could hold on. And it worked, kind of. In that first race I got to the start line early, got a good starting position, and when the whistle blew I hit the pedals like my life depended on it. My heart rate spiked to 201, the highest I’ve ever seen it, but I was off the front, out ahead of the pack and I stayed there for about 1 lap before completely exploding and getting passed by 10 guys over the 45 minute event. Trying to hang on after that first lap and was one of the hardest, most uncomfortable things I’ve ever been through in sports, but I finished in a respectable 11th place and even managed to lap a couple of slower riders!

In the second race of the season I employed the same plan. Again, I got to the start early and again when the whistle blew I went like hell. But this time a funny thing happened. I realized a few minutes into the race that I actually felt ok. I mean, I was miserable, but this time it was tolerable, my heart rate definitely wasn’t at 200+ and I was leading the race! After a couple of minutes I found myself in a group of five guys and we were way off the front of the main pack. As the laps started rolling by I remember thinking “I’m not dying, I’m not dying. I feel ok.” And the guys around me, in the front pack, were not looking ok, they looked like they were dying. Over the course of the next few laps, one by one, people started falling off the back of our group, running out of steam. When the bells started clanging indicating one lap left, I looked up and realized it was just me and one other guy. The rest of the field was long gone. And again the thoughts started running, “hang in there, don’t blow this, you can beat this guy, this is your chance to win.” I traded the lead with the other rider (who was wearing pink and black striped tights and had streamers attached to his helmet) a number of times over the course of the final two mile lap, digging as deep as I could, until we came into the final half mile, a long flat section breaking into a left hand turn and then into the final straight away. In that long flat section the guy I was racing made a break and I had no answer.

“That’s it, I have nothing left, it’s over,” I thought, as my mind tried to convince myself struggling legs that second place was a pretty good effort. But as we rounded the last corner, me trailing the lead rider by a good 30 yards – which feels like miles late in a race – and with less than a quarter mile to go I realized he was slowing down. “What is he doing?” I thought, “Why is he slowing down? Did he go too soon?” And then the realization, “He went too soon, he went too soon, I still have a chance” and I poured into the peddles with everything I had. As we pounded into the finish shoot with bells clanging and people screaming, I was right on his wheel. We dismounted for the last obstacle of the course, a barrier of unusual size, side by side. I went over the barrier first and when I hit the ground with the finish line in sight, I started running. It was too close to re-mount my bike. Pushing/dragging the bike I ran as hard as I could towards the line. I could hear him next to me, fumbling to re-mount his bike, then locking in and starting to chase. But his fumbling with his clips gave me some space. I moved out ahead of him and beat him to the line by less than a second! We both crumbled to the ground, shaking hands, kinda hugging each other and mumbling lactic acid induced incoherencies, so high on endorphins I was in another planet.

Of course, all this played out in the lowly C category, racing “beginners.” I’ve since bumped up to B category and now I am right back where I started last year, turning myself inside out trying to not get lapped and pulled off the course. But that’s cycling, there will always be someone faster than you. And the beauty of cyclocross is whether you are in it to win races or you’re just looking for an excuse to drink beer and play in the mud on Sunday afternoons, you are going to have a good time.

There Is No Single Track in Marin - A Great Day In China Camp

(photo by Ken Papai via Google)

Three years ago, I heard about an epic ride on San Pedro Mountain that takes place around April Fool's Day ever year. It's an "underground" endurance ride focused on riding every trail on the mountain in one day.

If you have done a couple of casual loops of China Camp in the past you'd say, "what - that's an endurance event?" If you are a China Camp local, you have a better sense of what this is all about. San Pedro Mountain is composed of a number of different smaller parks: China Camp State Park on its north east side, Harry Barbier open space preserve on the south side and some small miscellaneous parcels of land on the far west side. It is literally covered with trails - they are everywhere, some that are little more than deer tracks, almost none of them mapped. The place is a freakin maze. I've spent my whole life exploring that hill and I still find new trails all the time, I actually rode three trails new to me yesterday.

The ride was billed as a 50 miler with 10,000 feet of climbing, almost entirely on technical, narrow single track. The first time I heard about it I had just started riding seriously and I knew there was no way. Last year I decided to show up, went out way to hard trying to stay with some older guys that didn't look THAT fit, cramped badly within 2 hours and only made it through half. This year, after a solid winter of riding, I was headed back with the NAV crew and a bunch of other friends with the intention of finishing.

The day started early and started cold. I showed up at about 6:45 to an already full parking lot and a brisk, completely beautiful morning. 37 degrees when I got out of my car and the turnout was incredible........100+ riders. With very little messing around and no dramatic pre ride speeches (thank you Joe) we were off and rolling at 7:10. Very punctual for a ride like this.

The ride was split into 4 chapters, all of them super fun, super steep and pretty technical. All four of them had some great moments but in terms of pure fun, the 1st was my favorite (last years second). It inluded 3 of the best descents on the mountain, Hitler, JCC and Oakwood, all while still fresh enough to enjoy them! It also included almost 3k of stupid steep climbing in like 5 miles, but that's how this ride goes.

The second chapter was the most technical, with miles and miles of tight side hill riding with consequence for a mistake. Thanks to the trail ferries out there, hummingbird is awesome right now and was one of the highlights of the ride.

Third chapter was flowy, fun and covered some of the most obscure trails in the park. It was also a bit less steep, which was welcome.

Fourth chapter was pretty blurry for me with some steep sections and some descents that would have been killer if I had any coordination left.

Rather than go into a huge amount of ride details I'll just say it was a super long day on the bike, much suffering was had by all, trails were in really great shape with recent rains and almost all the crew I started with finished. That and it was super fun.

I can't speak for others but I would never have made it through if it wasn't for the people I met and rode with at different points in the day. What sets this ride apart from almost any other ride I've done is the strength of the crew, the diversity in terms of age and personality, and how fucking cool people are. Over the course of the day I met and rode with:

- Two different guys celebrating their 50's birthdays with an epic day on the bike.
- One guy who had his prostate removed less than 3 MONTHS AGO. Are you kidding me? He had his prostate removed this winter and he was in for a ride like this. Riding strongly and talking about anything and everything. He knew everyone on the trail, had something cool to say to everyone he passed and was burning bowls the whole way! Man, if you are out there, you are an inspiration and made that miserable chain strecher climb float by.
-More guys on hardtails and fully rigid bikes than most would think possible on a ride like this.
-At least half the crew on SS's.
-A super friendly EMT volunteer ripping in jeans and a tee.
-Some super strong female riders charging the climbs and descents.
-More peeps in their 50's than in their 20's.
-All in all tons of laughs, smiles and good vibes.

The trails up there are so narrow I find them as mentally tiring as they are physically. There is no break from the concentration, no time to space out like you can on most all day rides. By the end of the day yesterday, my mind was just mush. Coupled with the fact that I lost one of my contacts at Victor Jones Park, the last hour of the ride was completely weird and surreal - I felt like I was tripping. Thanks to Davey and the rest of the crew I met at Victor Jones for the pull home. I had to walk half the last descent cause I couldn't see shit, then ahhh - The Glory of Bucks and a cooler full of cold cokes, non alch's and salt and pepper chips.

Final stats: 52 miles, 9115k climbing and 8:03.

Crashes:

-I had a really solid OTB on my way down 7-11 at the end of the 3rd chapter. I was flowing well and having a ton of fun but already tired and clipped a bar. Hit my right side hard.

-One of the guys I was riding with went off the cliff on Q2 and literally fell 15 feet, down a rocky, poison oak strewn slope. Super Gnarly. He was ok though, and was right back on his bike a few minutes later.

Joe, your the man. Thanks for organizing. I'm sure this was a huge effort and it was appreciated.

There's no single track in Marin, right?

Incredible

I should really eat more fruit. And this graph is genius. I wish it was mine. I do have a little bone to pick with the location of the cherry. I have to assume they are talking cocktail cherry's (maraschino) because real cherries with pits would be way to the left on the easy to difficult range.

In fact, the more I get into it the more changes I think I'd make. Like peaches. Maybe canned peaches would be at the pinnacle of easy and tasty but real peaches......there is nothing so easy about those. That pit is a nightmare and without a handful of napkins I'm definitely going to have to change my tee shirt post peach. Now, peaches on a beach with a river to swim in during summer. That's living.

For some reason the position of the banana is my favorite part of this whole graph. I laugh out loud every time I look at it. That and pomegranates. Seriously, Genius. I can't stop laughing. This is my favorite graph ever.

This Too Shall Pass

Ever heard the phrase "this too shall pass?" Did you just roll your eyes? I know it has some annoying, new wave, everything is fleeting, Eamonn is going a bit far with this yoga thing, shit like that is why I'll never quit drinking, sorts of connotations.......but it really is a powerful four words.

I spent a lot of time thinking about important stuff like, if I could do my senior quote in high school over what would it say? Or what would I name my first boat? Or what would I name my first dog? Or thinking about what a perfect wish would be if I could only have one wish?.......really important stuff. When things are going well I spend about 10 hours a week running, or riding my bikes or in yoga classes.....that's about 10 hours a week really all up in my own head. It's a lot of time to think.

If you are curious my original high school quote was Shakespeare/Julius Ceaser "Cowards die many times before their death but the valiant never taste of death but once." I'd like a do over there.

I have no idea what I'd name my first boat but my first dog is definitely going to be named Hank Stamper (Sometimes a Great Notion - Kesey).

If I had one wish it would definitely be "The ability to master any skill in a few minutes." Its perfect, think about it.

Over the course of the past couple of years, really since giving up booze, the term "this too shall pass" has become about my favorite. If there is a more meaningful few word mantra I am not aware of it. It is closely tied to living in the moment but has some deeper "we are not who we think we are" shit going on as well. I don't want to get to far into it but it's rad. Anyways.....

Today I was doing some research on a totally unrelated topic and came across a little history on the quote that attributed it (indirectly) to Abraham Lincoln. With interest piqued I dug a little deeper and found out quite a bit more about the history of the quote, all of which made me really happy. I guess I had always figured it was just an old sobriety thing my pops had picked up along the way. He has a lot of those.

On to "This Too Shall Pass."

Abraham Lincoln famously used the mantra in the form of a short story in a speech at the Wisconsin State Fair September 30th 1859 (15 days, 151 years ago). His story and the conclusion of his speech goes as follows:

"It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: "And this, too, shall pass away." How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! -- how consoling in the depths of affliction! "And this, too, shall pass away." And yet let us hope it is not quite true. Let us hope, rather, that by the best cultivation of the physical world, beneath and around us; and the intellectual and moral world within us, we shall secure an individual, social, and political prosperity and happiness, whose course shall be onward and upward, and which, while the earth endures, shall not pass away."

It seems that the term also finds roots in the Bible and has been attributed to King Soloman, although it's possible the origins date back even further. In Turkish it looks like this:


Someone should be a pimp and get a tattooed sleeve of that. Seriously, no seriously. Tattoos are mysterious.

Biblical reference:

I Corinthians 10:12

And so finally after many more months of work, all the sages came back to him, and they had come to a unanimous conclusion that the wisdom of the world could be put into a four-word sentence. They told the king that this sentence expresses much. It is chastening in the hour of pride and consoling in the depths of afflictions. And I've reflected on this sentence this week. The sentence of their wisdom was: "This too shall pass."

I love thinking about things that have relevance today and can be proven to have had relevance in ancient history. My inner humanist just eats stuff like that up. How much have we changed?

I'm not going any further with this. It just struck me as interesting, surprised me, and I thought I would pass it on.

Do trust that whatever you have going on, whether good or bad, it won't last forever. It's all ups and downs gangster.

A Tribute to Walker Percy

Who wrote the best book I never finished. Seriously, The Moviegoer is one of my favorite books of all time and I haven't finished it. Not even that close. I don't know why. Maybe it scared me, maybe that's why.

I have to wonder how a guy can know as much as Walker Percy knew and not jump off a cliff. Well maybe it's because he had writing, he could get it all out and leave it there. Anyways, he's brilliant.

Scratch, I just learned more about him in article below. He knew plenty about "jumping off a cliff," but that wasn't what he was about. Really interesting character. It's a shame modern literature has forgotten him.

http://www.pastemagazine.com/articles/2010/06/the-booky-man-walker-to-new-orleans.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walker_Percy

Quotes:

"Before, I wandered as a diversion. Now I wander seriously and sit and read as a diversion."
— Walker Percy (The Moviegoer)

"--you have too good a mind to throw away. I don't quite know what we're doing on this insignificant cinder spinning aay in a dark corner of the universe. That is a secret which the high gods have not confided in me. Yet one thing I believe and I believe it with every fibre of my being. A man must live by his light and do what little he can and do it as best he can. In this world goodness is destined to be defeated. But a man must go down fighting. That is the victory. To do anything less is to be less than a man.'

She is right. I will say yes. I will say yes even though I do not really know what she is talking about."
— Walker Percy

"Like many young men in the South, he had trouble ruling out the possible. They are not like an immigrant's son in Passaic who desires to become a dentist and that is that. Southerners have trouble ruling out the possible. What happens to a... man to whom all things seem possible and every course of action open? Nothing of course."
— Walker Percy

"For some time now the impression has been growing upon me that everyone is dead.
It happens when I speak to people. In the middle of a sentence it will come over me: yes, beyond a doubt this is death. There is little to do but groan and make an excuse and slip away as quickly as one can. At such times it seems that the conversation is spoken by automatons who have no choice in what they say. I hear myself or someone else saying things like: "In my opinion the Russian people are a great people, but--" or "Yes, what you say about the hypocrisy of the North is unquestionably true. However--" and I think to myself: this is death. Lately it is all I can do to carry on such everyday conversations, because my cheek has developed a tendency to twitch of its own accord."
— Walker Percy

"You say it is a simple thing surely, all gain and no loss, to pick up a good-looking woman and head for the beach on the first day of the year. So say the newspaper poets. Well it is not such a simple thing and if you have ever done it, you know it isn't--unless, of course, the woman happens to be your wife or some other everyday creature so familiar to you that she is as invisible as you yourself. Where there is chance of gain, there is also chance of loss. Whenever one courts great happiness, one also risks malaise. "
— Walker Percy

"It's one thing to develop a nostalgia for home while you're boozing with Yankee writers in Martha's Vineyard or being chased by the bulls in Pamplona. It's something else to go home and visit with the folks in Reed's drugstore on the square and actually listen to them. The reason you can't go home again is not because the down-home folks are mad at you--they're not, don't flatter yourself, they couldn't care less--but because once you're in orbit and you return to Reed's drugstore on the square, you can stand no more than fifteen minutes of the conversation before you head for the woods, head for the liquor store, or head back to Martha's Vineyard, where at least you can put a tolerable and saving distance between you and home. Home may be where the heart is but it's no place to spend Wednesday afternoon."
— Walker Percy

"Lucky is the man who does not secretly believe that every possibility is open to him."
— Walker Percy