First things first, I failed in my goal to make writing here a regular thing. There. I said it. If you're still here, join me in moving on.
Many exciting events have transpired in recent months. I won't bore you with minute details, but here are some highlights in no particular order...
-My good friend Bill Webb organized a trip to the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains in late June. We summited Middle Palisade (my first 14'er) and had a brief but amazing hike through the bristlecone pine forest in the White Mountains. The oldest living organism in the world, the oldest tree turned 4,768 this year! Some of the dead trees were dated back 9,000+ years. Unbelievable. Pictures from this trip are here.
- I quit my job of 3 years, which I loathed more often than not. I was essentially working as a non-credentialed band teacher at a high school that had far more potential for excellence than it knew what to do with. Misused resources, ineptitude of leadership, fear-based instruction, skewed focus are among some of my constructive criticisms. I'd like to state for the record that the future of artistic integrity is SCREWED if this program serves as any sort of flagship for the state of music education in our public schools. Thankfully this is most likely not the case.
- I took part in one of San Diego's most hallowed (in my professional opinion) traditions. The Annual Red Dress Run (25th year?) was something I had heard of occasionally, but never had a direct way of getting involved until Kelly managed to find sponsors for our group. What an absolute riot. 500+ people all dressed/undressed in various shades/styles of red dresses, running rampant through downtown San Diego. People along the sidewalks watching, cheering, taking pictures, etc. Dana and I went dress shopping and I think I ripped at least 3 dresses in the changing room. We finally settled on a stunning number that really drew out my god-given attributes and found an amazing red belt to match. This belt became the greatest thing known to man. I managed to get 73% of the hottest girls at the run to get inside the belt with me (yes it was that big). But my heart (and now my belt) will always belong to Goldamer, my #1 belt lady. I guess you never forget your first... Apparently they were serving alcohol at various stop points throughout downtown SD. Apparently I drank a lot of it. Apparently I was demanding that people use my belt for spanking at the post-run party. But these are all baseless rumors that no amount of picture evidence could prove true.
-I played in what were supposedly my last ultimate frisbee tournaments this summer. Rumor has it this will not be the case..
-I played on an all-star pickup team at Pleasuretown Throwdown in San Diego. This was easily in the top 10 funnest tournaments of all time. Our team name was Cowabunga!, inspired by the literary and cinematic milestone known as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Heavily stocked with great players, ninja cocktails, name and color coordinated head/wrist/knee bands, catchphrases, movie soundtracks, and moves from Vanilla Ice's dance from TMNT II, we were ostentatious and bodacious! We made it to the finals, losing to a LA team by a few points. It was disappointing to lose, given the talent on our team, but it was still an epic weekend.
I think I had a great time for a few reasons- 1) I felt great physically (more on this in a minute) and 2) It was so relieving to play with no expectations. The past few years I've worked myself up about the competitive season, almost to a point of not having any fun playing- feeling like it was an expectation to be committed at the expense of my true love for the game. This tournament was so laid back that I caught myself feeling uncomfortable on a few occasions. Like I should be ashamed for just enjoying the moment. Weird.
- I made it up to San Francisco on a whirlwind trip and played with Brown Chicken Brown Cow, a new team comprised of LA, SF, etc. people. This was a 1 day tournament with only 7 teams, but we had 4 games in the heat with a very small roster. More playing time than I was used to.. We got to play the Australian National Coed team, which was a great privilege (especially since we were the only team there who beat them!). This was probably one of my better tournaments in recent history- I felt physically strong and mentally focused. Some friends on the team asked me to play at Regionals, and since I now live in the area (more on that in a minute), I took this weekend as an opportunity to get to know the team- playing styles, personalities, etc. Needless to say that if I'm free that weekend, I'll be on the roster.
- I made good on a personal promise/goal to get in shape. After several years of ebbing and flowing, progressing and relapsing, I finally said FUCK it. I decided that it was time to finally be comfortable with my physical (and to an extent, my mental and spiritual) self for the long term. Up until this point, I used the competitive frisbee season as my motivation to get in shape. Track workouts, running, lifting, etc., all to be more of an asset to a team. Going back to what I said before about losing contact with my love of the sport, I always looked at conditioning as a chore- something to do at a specific time and place. Do these workouts before this date. Run the mile at this time by this date. This was fine at the time, but as soon as the season was over I allowed myself to relapse. I had no reason to keep pushing myself. There was no continuity.
In January, I started a weekly running club, did some big hikes (solo trip in Big Sur, a 2-day 30 mile hike through Sequoia National Forest, among others), some big bike rides, started eating healthier. I started reaping rewards in small doses- I felt better, I looked forward to working out, to being outside. I strengthened some friendships, made new running friends, etc. I started holding myself accountable.
Fast forward to now. I stepped on a scale the other day for the first time in months. I was pleased to see myself hovering just above 200 lbs, 203 to be exact. I try to not dwell on numbers in this context- it's how you feel, how you perform that counts- but this was pretty meaningful for me. A year ago I was closer to 230- in recent years I had topped out at 240. Pathetic in hindsight, but I only resurrect it for comparison. I don't think I've been in such physical condition in the last 10 years. Maybe ever.
Not too long ago someone asked me what I was training for. I stopped to think about this question for a second before responding, "Life." I've fought myself and my self-destructive tendencies for so long, and I don't have an infinite amount of time to continue fighting. I want to be done looking at life as a series of isolated linear events. I am more interested in a constant and holistic approach to progress. Sounds idealistic. But that's life. And that's what I'm training for.
- I left San Diego. It was difficult. Crying in front of your friends is strange.
- I'm mere days away from beginning my Master's Degree in Saxophone Performance at the University of Northern Colorado. It will be difficult.
- Nothing worth doing is easy.
- En route to Colorado I met up with my father and two brothers for an epic man trip. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. My old man had just earned his M.B.A. (congrats!), Joe was just about to start another school year (he's almost finished with an engineering degree), Michael was about to turn 18 and sign his life away to the Air Force, and I was driving cross country with all my worldly possessions packed into a Toyota Corolla. We spent a night at Zion National Park in Utah (one of my favorite places on earth) and did a nice day hike up Angel's Landing on a beautiful Friday morning. Drove to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon and camped Friday night. Saturday morning was an early departure for the Cottonwood Campground, 7 miles and 5,000+ft below the canyon rim. It became clear to the majority of our group that this was much, much bigger than expected. The trail was STEEP, it got HOT early, and we were carrying full packs. We made it to the campground in the early afternoon, just in time for a midday nap in the heat. Yuck. I went on a side hike with my brothers to Ribbon Falls, a beautiful waterfall nestled in a grotto a little ways off the trail. Standing under the falls was such a simple blessing in the heat- easily in the top 5 showers of all time.
Our permits allowed us two nights at Cottonwood, and we had initially planned a long hike on Sunday- from Cottonwood to the Colorado River and back (14 miles round trip)- before packing out on Monday. But we reevaluated the situation and decided that it would be smarter and safer to cancel that part of our trip. Our options were to sit at the campground for another day with nothing to do but sweat, or hike out in the morning and return to Zion. The latter plan won out, and we left early Sunday morning for a return to the rim. This was a good hike. We kept the pace easy and stuck to a very structured break schedule. Bottom line, everyone made it out safely- no injuries (blows to the ego not included), no heat-illness. We made it back to Zion and spent Sunday night under the glowing stars.
I departed late Monday morning, and opted for a scenic route through Southern Utah. This was a good aesthetic decision. But it added several hours to my day, especially since I started having car trouble in the middle of nowhere. Turns out (I HOPE) that I was burning a bad tank of gas, and the problem disappeared several gallons of premium gas, bottles of Heet, hours of fretting later. I made it to Fort Collins around 3 am on Tuesday morning, after 15 hours of driving.. Pictures from the trip are here.
So here I sit, in my new apartment in a new town. Soon to make new friends and enemies. Soon to be overwhelmed. Soon to discover new fears, weaknesses, and biases. Soon to find the strength to grow. I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
The power to be, or a subjective analysis of capacity
A recent conversation with a friend turned to the tv show Heroes- a series that I have not followed for one reason or another. A big reason being that I don't have a tv (awesome). Another being that I have other shows to follow when I have time (. We were discussing how great it would be to have any number of superhuman powers to use at will. At the behest of this friend, I have chosen to write about the powers I currently possess. This may seem a frivolous topic- not worth the time it takes to read or, for that matter, write about. You may be right, but in this assertion lies my first and most obvious power- the ability to embrace and promote novel, uncommon, sometimes unrealistic notions. Most of the time I use this power to pass on what I understand/desire to be true- either through personal experience, semi-meticulous research, or discourse with people whose biases are aligned with my own.
The beauty of this power is not so much its overall effectiveness, but its self-perpetuation. Having harnessed the energy of this power quite some time ago, it functions on a relatively subterranean level- often I don't even realize that I'm using it, but upon self-reflection I become aware of its presence. The danger of this power is an occasional unconsciously malicious application- something dark and lurking has a hidden agenda that I do not notice until considerable damage has been caused (all superheroes have dark sides, right?). This is sometimes counteracted by my next power....
At times I have a robust capacity for empathy, sympathy, and concern for the well-being of others (redundancy?). I have been known to lend a hand, offer advice, comfort, motivate, and inspire- to friends, family, strangers alike. We'll call this a power of benevolence, unless someone has a better label. This power has an automated quality to it as well. The majority of the time, using this power leaves me feeling happier, lighter, grateful for the opportunity to make a difference. But occasionally a situation arises where I instinctively reach out to help/facilitate others only to be scorned, taken advantage of, left feeling overextended and unappreciated.
It is during these times that that I typically withdraw my hand, trying to recoup what I feel I have lost. My shield goes up to avoid any further damage, and my energy is focused inward. This would seem an ideal time for self-reflection and situation analysis to avoid similar incidents- recognizing warning signs that were originally overlooked, taking steps to soften the next blow. But somehow my mind turns to resentment before I have a chance to reflect and repair. During this time I have the power to push away the people that are genuinely interested in my well-being. My initial resentment is misapplied, and I hurt/frustrate my closest allies.
This is the part of the story where my power of perception comes into play, and I alert myself to how my personal resentment has been displaced so poorly. After brief periods of mental flagellation, I turn my energy to making amends to those I hurt. This is where I most easily exhibit my power of focus and intention. I pursue reparation with such force that everything else seems to drift into my peripheral. Regaining favor, reestablishing communication, these are my highest priorities.
But somewhere along this path my power of perception hints that maybe I'm starting to try too hard, stretching too far, starting to feel resentment...
Less significant powers include- the ability to overwhelm the senses with food, music, words, humor, passion.
Oh yeah, and sometimes I can fly when no one is watching.
The beauty of this power is not so much its overall effectiveness, but its self-perpetuation. Having harnessed the energy of this power quite some time ago, it functions on a relatively subterranean level- often I don't even realize that I'm using it, but upon self-reflection I become aware of its presence. The danger of this power is an occasional unconsciously malicious application- something dark and lurking has a hidden agenda that I do not notice until considerable damage has been caused (all superheroes have dark sides, right?). This is sometimes counteracted by my next power....
At times I have a robust capacity for empathy, sympathy, and concern for the well-being of others (redundancy?). I have been known to lend a hand, offer advice, comfort, motivate, and inspire- to friends, family, strangers alike. We'll call this a power of benevolence, unless someone has a better label. This power has an automated quality to it as well. The majority of the time, using this power leaves me feeling happier, lighter, grateful for the opportunity to make a difference. But occasionally a situation arises where I instinctively reach out to help/facilitate others only to be scorned, taken advantage of, left feeling overextended and unappreciated.
It is during these times that that I typically withdraw my hand, trying to recoup what I feel I have lost. My shield goes up to avoid any further damage, and my energy is focused inward. This would seem an ideal time for self-reflection and situation analysis to avoid similar incidents- recognizing warning signs that were originally overlooked, taking steps to soften the next blow. But somehow my mind turns to resentment before I have a chance to reflect and repair. During this time I have the power to push away the people that are genuinely interested in my well-being. My initial resentment is misapplied, and I hurt/frustrate my closest allies.
This is the part of the story where my power of perception comes into play, and I alert myself to how my personal resentment has been displaced so poorly. After brief periods of mental flagellation, I turn my energy to making amends to those I hurt. This is where I most easily exhibit my power of focus and intention. I pursue reparation with such force that everything else seems to drift into my peripheral. Regaining favor, reestablishing communication, these are my highest priorities.
But somewhere along this path my power of perception hints that maybe I'm starting to try too hard, stretching too far, starting to feel resentment...
Less significant powers include- the ability to overwhelm the senses with food, music, words, humor, passion.
Oh yeah, and sometimes I can fly when no one is watching.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
I know, I know
The whole point of creating this blog was to foster creativity, learning, sharing, observations, questions, ranting, raving, and craving within a written medium. I find expressing myself through words comes rather easily, which makes the necessity for repetition almost nonexistent. My goal was to write regularly, on a variety of topics, for mostly selfish reasons. You- my virtual audience- being able to peer into my thoughts is a byproduct of this process. Regardless of who I had in mind when I started writing, I have been remiss in my self-appointed duties. For that I am sorry. I'll try to do better.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Going Alone, Pt. 1
I am, for the most part, a social being. While I occasionally seek solitude and exhibit antisocial behavior, I typically attempt to surround myself and share experiences with others. Sometimes I am overly reliant on interaction, and I fail to appreciate opportunities to learn and grow individually. This is the backdrop for a series of events that recently transpired, allowing for some great opportunities for self-reflection.
I was talking to my friend Mahteeus* (*names have been changed to protect identity) several weeks ago about my desire for an adventure during my spring break (working at a high school has some nice scheduling perks). We tossed around the idea of going to the Grand Canyon, but permits weren't available. After writing here about my situation, I got a recommendation to check out the Big Sur area. I did some research and came up with several possibilities for the trip, and it just so happened to coincide with Mahteeus' trip to San Francisco to finish some graduate school interviews. It looked as though I could buy a one-way to ticket to SF and catch a ride to Big Sur (and ultimately back to San Diego) with Mahteeus. Joy!
Maybe 11 hours after I purchased my ticket to SF, I received an email from Mahteeus stating that he would not be able to drive after all. As a backup, I hastily purchased a return ticket for later in the week. $100 round-trip between SD and SF was a pretty good deal no matter how I looked at it. I then tried to talk my friend Nilla into joining me (partly because I enjoy his sardonic yet occasionally joyful disposition, partly because he has a car)- I was successful for about 14 hours this time. My last chance involved my friend 5er*. I knew he would be in Davis for a tournament over the weekend I anticipated starting my hike, but it looked as if we could work it out with a few changes in both of our schedules. Sure enough, 5er had to cancel due to some meetings early in the week. Damn.
At this point I seriously considered canceling the trip up to Big Sur and staying in San Diego for the week. It wasn't until Friday afternoon that I decided to make the the trip, thanks to some advice from my dad. I canceled my flights, finalized my plans, and packed my gear on Friday night. I had to teach lessons on Saturday morning, and I had such a difficult time maintaining focus. I hadn't done a substantial trip on my own since packing all my belongings and moving to SD from Wisconsin. I hit the road on Saturday around 1 pm, and made good time despite some typical LA traffic.
I made it up to Gorda (southern end of the Los Padres National Forest, when Hwy 1 starts hugging the coast north of San Luis Obispo) just after sunset, and got some camping recommendations from the dishwasher at the café. After trying several campgrounds along the highway, I snagged an open site (supposedly reserved, but no one showed up) at Limekiln State Park. Fell asleep to the sound of a rushing stream and the scent of redwoods. Woke up to the sound of drunk kids trying to start a fire and play guitar.
After breaking camp on Sunday morning I drove south several miles to the Kirk Creek campground, which was directly across the street to my intended trailhead. My plan was to hike to the Vicente Flat, reassess the situation, and possibly push forward to check out Cone Peak. The morning air was still a bit chilly, but the sun was already peeking out over the ridgeline and I quickly shed my long sleeve shirt due to the trail's rapid ascent. The trail hugs numerous foothills and canyons, so the scenery was constantly changing. On the outer edges of the canyons, blooming flowers, grasses and low bushes, and an ever expanding view of the coastline-to-horizon stretch of deep blue waters. Heading into the canyons, a shift to abundant vegetation, stunning redwoods (though with a great deal of evident fire damage), and bursts of bird song.
I made it to the Vicente Flat in good time, and passed a couple groups still engrossed in their breakfast and general slow-in-the-morning-when-camping rituals. Vicente Flat is a nice little respite from ascent with a few small stone fire rings, a random picnic table, and a nice streaming intersecting the trail. I got encouraging reports that the hike to Cone Peak was definitely possible, given the time of day and the remaining distance. The welcoming terrain quickly steepened, and I found myself straining to keep moving. The trail from VF to Cone Peak road may have been the steepest trail I walked during the trip, and carrying a full pack (~60 lbs easily) created several opportunities to rest and chastise myself for not being more physically prepared for this undertaking. There were several scenic moments that did not transfer from my line of sight to my camera, and for good reason. I was tired and cranky. Funny how easy it is to lose track of your surroundings when you are forced to fight the urge to give up with every step. I came up with a great number of rational reasons for heading back to Vicente for an early stop of hiking, but I managed to fend off those arguments and trudge forward.
I made it to Cone Peak Road and continued up the road for about two miles, until I hit the Cone Peak Summit trailhead. Immediately after starting up the trail, I encountered a downed tree just below chest level. The surrounding terrain made going around impossible and over very unappealing. So I crouched and waddled to the best of my abilities, still scraped the top of my pack as I passed, and suddenly found it impossible to stand up straight. My knees felt locked in hemiotranstitis (I made it up at Blair's urging, since we didn't know the word for when your legs are fully bent, something about negative space, blah blah), and I said to myself, "Self, you are screwed if you cannot overcome something as simple as regaining your vertical stature."
Something I forgot to mention earlier that I am inserting here, for better or worse. If you plan on hiking any distance, you will look and feel much cooler with a sweet walking staff. I knew this going in, so my eyes were constantly peeled for the perfect staff. A few false hopes early on, but I knew it would come to me eventually. I found my staff several miles in from the start of the VF trail, amid a large pile of freshly cut redwood. Clearly there had been a large tree in the path that a volunteer cut up, and I found my staff after a quick scan of the remains. It was slightly oversized, but I dealt with it and cut it down later in the trip. It was, and still remains, the best walking staff ever. I had this romantic (not like John Cusack, more like Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) notion of keeping it forever and carving in the names of all the places I carry it to. Maybe that'll happen, maybe not. Back to the story.
The first mile or so was steep but relatively easy going (mostly because I knew how close I was to the top) but the trail became rocky and was blocked by fallen trees on several occasions. It was getting late in the afternoon, and the sun's rays were unobstructed in their pursuit of baking my skin. I was getting a bit discouraged when I saw an elderly couple (at least 65) come around a switchback towards me. Even though their car was parked at the trailhead and their hike was only 4 miles, it was still impressive to see them climb such a challenging trail. After they passed me I said to myself, "Self, if you cannot ignore the distance you have already traveled and just focus on your destination then you will have several reasons to despise yourself- number one on that list being this old couple owning you on this mountain."
I finally made it to the summit, and dropped my pack for a well-deserved rest. Cheddar cheese and a crisp apple were my rewards, not to mention the spectacular view. There is a fire lookout station atop the peak, and I decided to try a panoramic sequence of photos. Starting with this photo (which represents the southeast corner of the lookout tower), I made my way counterclockwise around the perimeter of the structure. I knew that daylight was dwindling, and I still had 6 miles to hike back to Vicente Flat to set up camp. I reshouldered my pack and started back down the trail. It didn't take long to realize that my muscles were not up to the task of balancing and controlling my descent, and it was almost as arduous to descend as it was to climb.
There were a few spots on the trail that I just leaned forward and ran, only to try easing the strain on my knees. Several times my right knee (which has been an issue lately) buckled and I nearly fell off the side of the canyon. Yikes. I finally made it back to the Vicente Flat, eager to share someone's fire, ask for a cup of coffee...only to realize that it was Sunday night, and I was absolutely alone. This was somewhat disconcerting, but I quickly made camp, started a fire, and changed out of my hiking clothes. I managed to rig a hot plate over the fire to make sardine and cheddar quesadillas, which were delicious but silly in hindsight. I had no bear canister, and the pungent aroma of fish was not only in the air, but also on me, my clothes, my hair, and in my tent. I rinsed the sardine can and packed it away before passing out, but awoke several times in the night worrying about what might be prowling around outside. Luckily there were no bears, cougars, dementors, or similar horrors lurking about that night.... To be continued....
I was talking to my friend Mahteeus* (*names have been changed to protect identity) several weeks ago about my desire for an adventure during my spring break (working at a high school has some nice scheduling perks). We tossed around the idea of going to the Grand Canyon, but permits weren't available. After writing here about my situation, I got a recommendation to check out the Big Sur area. I did some research and came up with several possibilities for the trip, and it just so happened to coincide with Mahteeus' trip to San Francisco to finish some graduate school interviews. It looked as though I could buy a one-way to ticket to SF and catch a ride to Big Sur (and ultimately back to San Diego) with Mahteeus. Joy!
Maybe 11 hours after I purchased my ticket to SF, I received an email from Mahteeus stating that he would not be able to drive after all. As a backup, I hastily purchased a return ticket for later in the week. $100 round-trip between SD and SF was a pretty good deal no matter how I looked at it. I then tried to talk my friend Nilla into joining me (partly because I enjoy his sardonic yet occasionally joyful disposition, partly because he has a car)- I was successful for about 14 hours this time. My last chance involved my friend 5er*. I knew he would be in Davis for a tournament over the weekend I anticipated starting my hike, but it looked as if we could work it out with a few changes in both of our schedules. Sure enough, 5er had to cancel due to some meetings early in the week. Damn.
At this point I seriously considered canceling the trip up to Big Sur and staying in San Diego for the week. It wasn't until Friday afternoon that I decided to make the the trip, thanks to some advice from my dad. I canceled my flights, finalized my plans, and packed my gear on Friday night. I had to teach lessons on Saturday morning, and I had such a difficult time maintaining focus. I hadn't done a substantial trip on my own since packing all my belongings and moving to SD from Wisconsin. I hit the road on Saturday around 1 pm, and made good time despite some typical LA traffic.
I made it up to Gorda (southern end of the Los Padres National Forest, when Hwy 1 starts hugging the coast north of San Luis Obispo) just after sunset, and got some camping recommendations from the dishwasher at the café. After trying several campgrounds along the highway, I snagged an open site (supposedly reserved, but no one showed up) at Limekiln State Park. Fell asleep to the sound of a rushing stream and the scent of redwoods. Woke up to the sound of drunk kids trying to start a fire and play guitar.
After breaking camp on Sunday morning I drove south several miles to the Kirk Creek campground, which was directly across the street to my intended trailhead. My plan was to hike to the Vicente Flat, reassess the situation, and possibly push forward to check out Cone Peak. The morning air was still a bit chilly, but the sun was already peeking out over the ridgeline and I quickly shed my long sleeve shirt due to the trail's rapid ascent. The trail hugs numerous foothills and canyons, so the scenery was constantly changing. On the outer edges of the canyons, blooming flowers, grasses and low bushes, and an ever expanding view of the coastline-to-horizon stretch of deep blue waters. Heading into the canyons, a shift to abundant vegetation, stunning redwoods (though with a great deal of evident fire damage), and bursts of bird song.
I made it to the Vicente Flat in good time, and passed a couple groups still engrossed in their breakfast and general slow-in-the-morning-when-camping rituals. Vicente Flat is a nice little respite from ascent with a few small stone fire rings, a random picnic table, and a nice streaming intersecting the trail. I got encouraging reports that the hike to Cone Peak was definitely possible, given the time of day and the remaining distance. The welcoming terrain quickly steepened, and I found myself straining to keep moving. The trail from VF to Cone Peak road may have been the steepest trail I walked during the trip, and carrying a full pack (~60 lbs easily) created several opportunities to rest and chastise myself for not being more physically prepared for this undertaking. There were several scenic moments that did not transfer from my line of sight to my camera, and for good reason. I was tired and cranky. Funny how easy it is to lose track of your surroundings when you are forced to fight the urge to give up with every step. I came up with a great number of rational reasons for heading back to Vicente for an early stop of hiking, but I managed to fend off those arguments and trudge forward.
I made it to Cone Peak Road and continued up the road for about two miles, until I hit the Cone Peak Summit trailhead. Immediately after starting up the trail, I encountered a downed tree just below chest level. The surrounding terrain made going around impossible and over very unappealing. So I crouched and waddled to the best of my abilities, still scraped the top of my pack as I passed, and suddenly found it impossible to stand up straight. My knees felt locked in hemiotranstitis (I made it up at Blair's urging, since we didn't know the word for when your legs are fully bent, something about negative space, blah blah), and I said to myself, "Self, you are screwed if you cannot overcome something as simple as regaining your vertical stature."
Something I forgot to mention earlier that I am inserting here, for better or worse. If you plan on hiking any distance, you will look and feel much cooler with a sweet walking staff. I knew this going in, so my eyes were constantly peeled for the perfect staff. A few false hopes early on, but I knew it would come to me eventually. I found my staff several miles in from the start of the VF trail, amid a large pile of freshly cut redwood. Clearly there had been a large tree in the path that a volunteer cut up, and I found my staff after a quick scan of the remains. It was slightly oversized, but I dealt with it and cut it down later in the trip. It was, and still remains, the best walking staff ever. I had this romantic (not like John Cusack, more like Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) notion of keeping it forever and carving in the names of all the places I carry it to. Maybe that'll happen, maybe not. Back to the story.
The first mile or so was steep but relatively easy going (mostly because I knew how close I was to the top) but the trail became rocky and was blocked by fallen trees on several occasions. It was getting late in the afternoon, and the sun's rays were unobstructed in their pursuit of baking my skin. I was getting a bit discouraged when I saw an elderly couple (at least 65) come around a switchback towards me. Even though their car was parked at the trailhead and their hike was only 4 miles, it was still impressive to see them climb such a challenging trail. After they passed me I said to myself, "Self, if you cannot ignore the distance you have already traveled and just focus on your destination then you will have several reasons to despise yourself- number one on that list being this old couple owning you on this mountain."
I finally made it to the summit, and dropped my pack for a well-deserved rest. Cheddar cheese and a crisp apple were my rewards, not to mention the spectacular view. There is a fire lookout station atop the peak, and I decided to try a panoramic sequence of photos. Starting with this photo (which represents the southeast corner of the lookout tower), I made my way counterclockwise around the perimeter of the structure. I knew that daylight was dwindling, and I still had 6 miles to hike back to Vicente Flat to set up camp. I reshouldered my pack and started back down the trail. It didn't take long to realize that my muscles were not up to the task of balancing and controlling my descent, and it was almost as arduous to descend as it was to climb.
There were a few spots on the trail that I just leaned forward and ran, only to try easing the strain on my knees. Several times my right knee (which has been an issue lately) buckled and I nearly fell off the side of the canyon. Yikes. I finally made it back to the Vicente Flat, eager to share someone's fire, ask for a cup of coffee...only to realize that it was Sunday night, and I was absolutely alone. This was somewhat disconcerting, but I quickly made camp, started a fire, and changed out of my hiking clothes. I managed to rig a hot plate over the fire to make sardine and cheddar quesadillas, which were delicious but silly in hindsight. I had no bear canister, and the pungent aroma of fish was not only in the air, but also on me, my clothes, my hair, and in my tent. I rinsed the sardine can and packed it away before passing out, but awoke several times in the night worrying about what might be prowling around outside. Luckily there were no bears, cougars, dementors, or similar horrors lurking about that night.... To be continued....
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Cooking
My cooking habits tend to ebb and flow, much like everything else in my life. Sometimes I get lazy and avoid the kitchen, other times I get completely sucked in to the idea of coming up with new creations, revisiting old favorites. This week finds me pretty active in the kitchen- I've been compelled to cook almost every night of the week. Tuesday night I made a spicy roasted red pepper soup with a fresh salad chock full of local organic vegetables, courtesy of Be Wise Ranch. My friend Ruth brought over some fresh scallops and seared them in a delicious honey-citrus glaze.
Wednesday night was supposed to follow a simple progression- a small dinner with a few key friends (Nilla was in town, Lisa was a few days away from ACL surgery, etc., etc.) followed by a nice bike ride to Hamilton's, which happens to be my favorite watering hole in San Diego. I got a little carried away with the invites, and a few people invited a few people...Next thing I know I'm cooking for about 13 people. I had a nice bike ride to the grocery stores, and I came home feeling refreshed and ready to cook. The menu was somewhat Italian, though not thoroughly traditional to any particular region. I made some sweet olive oil bread from scratch and prepared an apple-cinnamon compound butter to spread over the warm bread. I used a double boiler to melt the butter into the apple and spice mixture, and let it congeal in the freezer. It never ended up resembling solid butter again, which actually turned out pretty well. Imagine spreading creamy applesauce over warm and subtly sweet bread.
For the "main" course I made a series of calzonés, and I have to interject my opinion about the correct pronunciation. When I was in Italy, everyone pronounced the é in the typical dialectic fashion (mascarponé, buona notté, etc.). Upon returning to the US, the common pronunciation suddenly reminded me of a football defensive set, or a west coast voter's initiative. WTF. I'm willing to admit I'm wrong in the face of some hard evidence, but I maintain my position for the time being. Anyway, I ended up making about 13-14 different calzonés with a wide variety of toppings. Fresh chicken sausage, prosciutto, caramelized onions, garlic, tomatoes, cottage cheese (poor man's ricotta), onions, anchovies, olives. Either they were a big hit or my friends are great at bluffing. Dessert was, in my opinion, the highlight of the meal. I acquired an ice cream maker from my friend Jef, who is a fine chef recently removed from San Diego. I've been putting it to use lately, and last night I experimented a little and made pomegranate gelato. Very subtle, airy, and creamy with a solid body and slight tartness. I think I should make it again just to confirm it's validity in my repertoire.
Today was my good friend Bill Webb's 47th birthday. We share several loves- camping, hiking, ultimate frisbee, biking, adventures, etc.- and great wine and food definitely top the list. Bill and his wife Martha are avid wine drinkers, and he gave me a head's up that we would be drinking a fine Bordeaux this evening. So I planned the meal on the way home from work, and solidified my plans after shopping for some delicious cheeses. Let it be known that I have a new favorite place in San Diego. Venissimo is a artisan cheese shop in Mission Hills and I have already fallen in love. I picked three different cheeses on recommendation from one of the employees based on our wine plans. Stopped at Henry's on the way home and finished my planning/shopping. Our menu this evening consisted of- cheese, prosciutto, and crackers; roasted asparagus and carrots with fresh thyme, garlic, olive oil, salt&pepper; mashed red potatoes with cream, salt, and homemade porcini mushroom stock. The kicker was in my humble opinion the best steak I've ever made. Thin cut New York strip steak, marinaded in soy sauce. Patted dry and rolled in a mixture of crushed dried porcini mushrooms, rosemary, and pepper. Pan-seared at high heat, and removed just in time. Poured some porcini stock over the veggies and potatoes and served with two different wines that Bill opened. One was a "left bank" Bordeaux (heavy on the Cabernet) and the other was a delicious Syrah. I couldn't really appreciate the Bordeaux until I chased the steak down with a hearty sip. Love. Defined. All said it was a great meal (and somewhat healthy) that I was proud of, especially for such last minute planning. But above that I was happy to share it with good friends, and it was a nice way to honor the occasion. We finished the evening with an amazing carrot-pear cake that Martha cooked. I could sit and eat that cake for hours.
Sometimes I laugh when I look at my credit/debit card statements, because the majority of my non-essential expenses are food-related. But I look at it this way- better fine food with good people than cigarettes, cheap beer, country music CDs, etc. with anyone.
Sorry I've been slacking on posting. There are a few posts in the works, I just need to learn a few new words before I send off my thoughts.
Wednesday night was supposed to follow a simple progression- a small dinner with a few key friends (Nilla was in town, Lisa was a few days away from ACL surgery, etc., etc.) followed by a nice bike ride to Hamilton's, which happens to be my favorite watering hole in San Diego. I got a little carried away with the invites, and a few people invited a few people...Next thing I know I'm cooking for about 13 people. I had a nice bike ride to the grocery stores, and I came home feeling refreshed and ready to cook. The menu was somewhat Italian, though not thoroughly traditional to any particular region. I made some sweet olive oil bread from scratch and prepared an apple-cinnamon compound butter to spread over the warm bread. I used a double boiler to melt the butter into the apple and spice mixture, and let it congeal in the freezer. It never ended up resembling solid butter again, which actually turned out pretty well. Imagine spreading creamy applesauce over warm and subtly sweet bread.
For the "main" course I made a series of calzonés, and I have to interject my opinion about the correct pronunciation. When I was in Italy, everyone pronounced the é in the typical dialectic fashion (mascarponé, buona notté, etc.). Upon returning to the US, the common pronunciation suddenly reminded me of a football defensive set, or a west coast voter's initiative. WTF. I'm willing to admit I'm wrong in the face of some hard evidence, but I maintain my position for the time being. Anyway, I ended up making about 13-14 different calzonés with a wide variety of toppings. Fresh chicken sausage, prosciutto, caramelized onions, garlic, tomatoes, cottage cheese (poor man's ricotta), onions, anchovies, olives. Either they were a big hit or my friends are great at bluffing. Dessert was, in my opinion, the highlight of the meal. I acquired an ice cream maker from my friend Jef, who is a fine chef recently removed from San Diego. I've been putting it to use lately, and last night I experimented a little and made pomegranate gelato. Very subtle, airy, and creamy with a solid body and slight tartness. I think I should make it again just to confirm it's validity in my repertoire.
Today was my good friend Bill Webb's 47th birthday. We share several loves- camping, hiking, ultimate frisbee, biking, adventures, etc.- and great wine and food definitely top the list. Bill and his wife Martha are avid wine drinkers, and he gave me a head's up that we would be drinking a fine Bordeaux this evening. So I planned the meal on the way home from work, and solidified my plans after shopping for some delicious cheeses. Let it be known that I have a new favorite place in San Diego. Venissimo is a artisan cheese shop in Mission Hills and I have already fallen in love. I picked three different cheeses on recommendation from one of the employees based on our wine plans. Stopped at Henry's on the way home and finished my planning/shopping. Our menu this evening consisted of- cheese, prosciutto, and crackers; roasted asparagus and carrots with fresh thyme, garlic, olive oil, salt&pepper; mashed red potatoes with cream, salt, and homemade porcini mushroom stock. The kicker was in my humble opinion the best steak I've ever made. Thin cut New York strip steak, marinaded in soy sauce. Patted dry and rolled in a mixture of crushed dried porcini mushrooms, rosemary, and pepper. Pan-seared at high heat, and removed just in time. Poured some porcini stock over the veggies and potatoes and served with two different wines that Bill opened. One was a "left bank" Bordeaux (heavy on the Cabernet) and the other was a delicious Syrah. I couldn't really appreciate the Bordeaux until I chased the steak down with a hearty sip. Love. Defined. All said it was a great meal (and somewhat healthy) that I was proud of, especially for such last minute planning. But above that I was happy to share it with good friends, and it was a nice way to honor the occasion. We finished the evening with an amazing carrot-pear cake that Martha cooked. I could sit and eat that cake for hours.
Sometimes I laugh when I look at my credit/debit card statements, because the majority of my non-essential expenses are food-related. But I look at it this way- better fine food with good people than cigarettes, cheap beer, country music CDs, etc. with anyone.
Sorry I've been slacking on posting. There are a few posts in the works, I just need to learn a few new words before I send off my thoughts.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Earth Beneath My Feet
I have a week break approaching in April, and I'm looking for an adventure! I was hoping to complete a rim-to-rim-to-rim hike of the Grand Canyon, but silly me forgot how early you have to request back country permits. I'm not convinced that going from the South Rim all the way up the North Rim and finding a campsite at the top amid winter weather warnings all in one day is a prudent decision. Doesn't look like I'll be able to do anything beyond day hikes if I go. Beyond that, here's my brainstorm of options and why they would/wouldn't work.
-I'm ruling out Joshua Tree because 1) I'm not a climber 2) I'm planning to going in May 3) I haven't developed an affinity for desert camping enough to justify two trips in such a short span of time.
-Zion would be sweet for obvious reasons, but the likely weather conditions and drive time make this somewhat unappealing.
-Going to Channel Islands mid-April, so that is out.
-There's talk of hiking the John Muir Trail this summer, and it's too far and wintery to hit the Sierras. Besides, I might be on board for a hike/climb near Big Pine/Finger Lakes in June.
-Sitting at home/practicing all week in my studio is not an option for obvious reasons.
My break starts April 5th, and there's a beach tournament in San Diego April 12-13 that I want to be back for. I'm ideally looking for something 2-4 days in length. Anyone have any suggestions?
-I'm ruling out Joshua Tree because 1) I'm not a climber 2) I'm planning to going in May 3) I haven't developed an affinity for desert camping enough to justify two trips in such a short span of time.
-Zion would be sweet for obvious reasons, but the likely weather conditions and drive time make this somewhat unappealing.
-Going to Channel Islands mid-April, so that is out.
-There's talk of hiking the John Muir Trail this summer, and it's too far and wintery to hit the Sierras. Besides, I might be on board for a hike/climb near Big Pine/Finger Lakes in June.
-Sitting at home/practicing all week in my studio is not an option for obvious reasons.
My break starts April 5th, and there's a beach tournament in San Diego April 12-13 that I want to be back for. I'm ideally looking for something 2-4 days in length. Anyone have any suggestions?
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
What I'm Digging Now
Music-
Pau Casals, Bach Cello Suites
Rabih Abou-Khalil, The Cactus of Knowledge
Ray LaMontagne, Trouble
Books-
Michael Pollan, The Omnivore's Dilemma
Movies-
Into The Wild Read the book, actually read all of Krakauer's books!
Stardust
BBC's Planet Earth
Food
Made a great St. Pat's-style meal over the weekend.. Sautéed kale w/ onions and garlic, Guinness creamed potatoes, and seared salmon with raisin & caper compound butter. In the continued spirit of St. Pat's/drinking in general, I made homemade Guinness ice cream for a friend's party on Monday.
Created a random dish last night, I'll call it sweet and spicy chili baked spare ribs. In my favorite cast-iron skillet, sautéed onions, garlic, and chili paste in sesame oil. Added soy sauce, ketchup, vinegar, salt, pepper (black and cayenne), and sugar. Tossed the ribs in once the sauce was boiling and baked at 375 for about 1.357 hours. Finished too late to have any, but it was delicious with rice for lunch...and dinner..
Pau Casals, Bach Cello Suites
Rabih Abou-Khalil, The Cactus of Knowledge
Ray LaMontagne, Trouble
Books-
Michael Pollan, The Omnivore's Dilemma
Movies-
Into The Wild Read the book, actually read all of Krakauer's books!
Stardust
BBC's Planet Earth
Food
Made a great St. Pat's-style meal over the weekend.. Sautéed kale w/ onions and garlic, Guinness creamed potatoes, and seared salmon with raisin & caper compound butter. In the continued spirit of St. Pat's/drinking in general, I made homemade Guinness ice cream for a friend's party on Monday.
Created a random dish last night, I'll call it sweet and spicy chili baked spare ribs. In my favorite cast-iron skillet, sautéed onions, garlic, and chili paste in sesame oil. Added soy sauce, ketchup, vinegar, salt, pepper (black and cayenne), and sugar. Tossed the ribs in once the sauce was boiling and baked at 375 for about 1.357 hours. Finished too late to have any, but it was delicious with rice for lunch...and dinner..
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