tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57836388852570140542024-01-24T20:35:22.992-08:00Evo DavoThe musings of a kid colliding with middle age with the grace of an angry hippo, racing, on ice.EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.comBlogger858125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-22618616771766037132024-01-24T20:34:00.000-08:002024-01-24T20:34:38.759-08:00Show time<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSL4MxLatrept3fz-F01eXVnCj5nPcCwtCzZFpfaSbQehYx_4s8TddMjne8DWcryBE21w_UxF8-yth065L3a8QPPnkEevrvSITlWH-3l_l3b5NJkSLWiBAP2xMSFXNvmybqQudnv_CCPIRfPKxB0Dh3TWpbavMCP8sxtbRd8MPO_dpXis7V5q7Vva3LjhD/s4032/IMG_6835.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSL4MxLatrept3fz-F01eXVnCj5nPcCwtCzZFpfaSbQehYx_4s8TddMjne8DWcryBE21w_UxF8-yth065L3a8QPPnkEevrvSITlWH-3l_l3b5NJkSLWiBAP2xMSFXNvmybqQudnv_CCPIRfPKxB0Dh3TWpbavMCP8sxtbRd8MPO_dpXis7V5q7Vva3LjhD/w480-h640/IMG_6835.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-833757310673082332023-11-17T19:08:00.001-08:002023-11-17T19:08:15.743-08:00Let’s go<font face="Trebuchet MS" size="4">Here we go!</font><div><img id="id_645c_55f6_641b_5fc2" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/drive-viewer/AK7aPaBGj6g_kl8phXnWeSnuAmZ5gjQdlcGXNfSS4Qu1vvYgNnE-5Si9J_X33bsUsYTLo1ll-wi8zrtOHpxrn7gbdYYI4CCPBg" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><font face="Verdana">As I get bombarded from all sides with offers to save money; I can say that nothing saves me more money than just skipping all the sales and going for a walk, run or ride. Today Hottie and I took the Kona for a walk on the beach. </font><font face="Trebuchet MS" size="4"><br></font></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-1049706547414326722023-10-27T17:11:00.001-07:002023-10-27T17:11:11.676-07:00Summer, you are just a memory<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie_oEUBq8UgSdb466LDBlBP2G7rivPJh9aFMFmvms9YLSTbZD_WmLSJBZGBlS4Y19dgTMYRqvnpFYw3QD_I_C-b_rd71UxbUmD7DaQZc9_lhp3T-bMKwWWcV_Bjb9ZsU2ClewDZKkpAo63VM81URPNj_pLhpYHMFsAJ5m6ApvS75di1axmOBIeUKef7Iy2/s4032/IMG_5460.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie_oEUBq8UgSdb466LDBlBP2G7rivPJh9aFMFmvms9YLSTbZD_WmLSJBZGBlS4Y19dgTMYRqvnpFYw3QD_I_C-b_rd71UxbUmD7DaQZc9_lhp3T-bMKwWWcV_Bjb9ZsU2ClewDZKkpAo63VM81URPNj_pLhpYHMFsAJ5m6ApvS75di1axmOBIeUKef7Iy2/w640-h480/IMG_5460.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: center;">Leaving summer behind and barreling into fall!</div></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We squeezed all we could out of summer. Then summer just kept going all though September and we squeezed some more. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The air has gone from crisp to cold and instead of warm afternoons, there are fleeting moments of sunshine when you don't feel the bite of the colder days. </span></p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-22131118047734641172023-08-04T16:41:00.001-07:002023-08-04T16:41:29.804-07:00The road ahead<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOpciv49iew5d7GA0ULqbT80YVnACms2FoWTp-LW8jidizzz0nck4XUC_UcnCofmn_9KhJzEehk3EUkWJoo0ARZ4AFTQm7dzF7Z4gn9jiMLgR3lFDSL09v1c8QJailnqJCMi1nsbgmqnPqPeFSrgJl_JrL7XOZ_bHZTXn8hvIEOr3oYYZ8FOSVWTy7qa6K/s4032/IMG_4828.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOpciv49iew5d7GA0ULqbT80YVnACms2FoWTp-LW8jidizzz0nck4XUC_UcnCofmn_9KhJzEehk3EUkWJoo0ARZ4AFTQm7dzF7Z4gn9jiMLgR3lFDSL09v1c8QJailnqJCMi1nsbgmqnPqPeFSrgJl_JrL7XOZ_bHZTXn8hvIEOr3oYYZ8FOSVWTy7qa6K/w640-h480/IMG_4828.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I love starting a bike ride.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">You swing your leg over and head out. You have an idea of what the ride will be like. Sometimes you are right, and other times it evolves into something else. The ride takes on a character of its own. You take it all in at the speed you choose.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I love being on a ride.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">You are free to go or stop or go elsewhere. If you have enough food and drink you can go almost forever. Some hills are easier than you expected, others take it out of you. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">If something goes wrong, there is a satisfaction in being able to make a repair and continue. Now and again you find yourself in a different place than you had planned. The uncertainty of what is ahead always adds a little mystery. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I love finishing a ride.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Approaching the end of the ride I relish the satisfaction of completing the ride. Fulfilling the mission as it were. The ride was somewhere between training and fun I find no need to divide the two. </span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-54497796872280420692023-03-25T20:10:00.001-07:002023-03-25T20:10:08.217-07:00Wintertime is over<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnfMKLaNXUBIZTtkxsE013YHiLweNOTO0M2ooIppmWjIWLMT_YX1Tj74fgdFYr6RCJ79i21J-d1oQe176gWyCjalCJWv_ziCXb4Wp3Iyrk-pjFXNq-KjsI5_wF-oBDIRMbG2bYCdC8wXy022FnYaGsNMg5gBi8QWvm8AItkmslnrxFha4UiyjdhL7bOw/s1198/IMG_3747.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1198" data-original-width="1163" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnfMKLaNXUBIZTtkxsE013YHiLweNOTO0M2ooIppmWjIWLMT_YX1Tj74fgdFYr6RCJ79i21J-d1oQe176gWyCjalCJWv_ziCXb4Wp3Iyrk-pjFXNq-KjsI5_wF-oBDIRMbG2bYCdC8wXy022FnYaGsNMg5gBi8QWvm8AItkmslnrxFha4UiyjdhL7bOw/w622-h640/IMG_3747.jpeg" width="622" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Green is fresh. Other colors, not so much.</span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We aren't looking backwards. The future is all that we can affect. Looking ahead.</span><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-13309590489683239072023-03-01T19:55:00.002-08:002023-03-01T19:55:14.468-08:00Moving on <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUG14-1X-ZNjs4uF8ldJp7oluBflTmAJf1xO_okSwE1bTJSuqrwOKDYZJ0PwGCkad5VXZsE8NeFe-heFe_Gc-Q6BUsd0X5vOj7eF3SlJJNaFjN4GO7ZTrs5lk3YZAe6Dcp2dDtwErcxGeZ5jz6j8ZNcitUIrWDy39fsSbiIXKzSl0vcb4zxsyx40oFlA/s4032/IMG_3478.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUG14-1X-ZNjs4uF8ldJp7oluBflTmAJf1xO_okSwE1bTJSuqrwOKDYZJ0PwGCkad5VXZsE8NeFe-heFe_Gc-Q6BUsd0X5vOj7eF3SlJJNaFjN4GO7ZTrs5lk3YZAe6Dcp2dDtwErcxGeZ5jz6j8ZNcitUIrWDy39fsSbiIXKzSl0vcb4zxsyx40oFlA/w300-h400/IMG_3478.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Whatever. Move on.</span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The story of my right eye didn't end the way i hoped and expected. I thought I would share a story about how it took twenty months of patience to get my vision back. Instead it took twenty months to end up with bad vision in my right eye. Yeah it sucks; but it is what it is and I'm just not going to whine about it any more. I have one good eye and that is better than none. HTFU!</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-45987467083785684422022-11-05T20:12:00.002-07:002022-11-05T20:12:46.733-07:00Let's turn the page<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOR_iiJ2SHmkzGOAcXSJ9d1LEj6bjgjQwFuKvVqImJ95vYtiGya4a2_m-UxZ-6iPJ9SE6G41_b4PkszLzbh6URAcG1oX6bz9L7Af9gKzHo8rprnjGFjk68qaIalOaJWqI7n7VMzDCix6X5ZUbLzlUvaDtk-bM9xC1yd4yXpuA-IrIDyY8ggdmwXWDlVQ/s4032/IMG_2592.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOR_iiJ2SHmkzGOAcXSJ9d1LEj6bjgjQwFuKvVqImJ95vYtiGya4a2_m-UxZ-6iPJ9SE6G41_b4PkszLzbh6URAcG1oX6bz9L7Af9gKzHo8rprnjGFjk68qaIalOaJWqI7n7VMzDCix6X5ZUbLzlUvaDtk-bM9xC1yd4yXpuA-IrIDyY8ggdmwXWDlVQ/w640-h480/IMG_2592.jpeg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"> </span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The forecast said it would snow overnight. In the meantime, the inch or two from yesterday morning had mostly melted. I put on more layers than I had in worn in the past seven months. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My earbuds stayed home as I wanted to savor this ride. Tomorrow there would be no more trail riding for the rest of the year. The impending storm likely would not bring skiing, but I will be skiing on these trails before I am riding on them next spring.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The sound of snow crunching under my tires is the only thing I hear. Other than the sound of my tires the forest is silent as I make my way up the trail. The smell of rotting leaves and wet dirt will soon be lost, buried under snow. A wind from the northwest cuts through my clothes to my chest. My hands are warm and hidden inside giant gloves. This is the kind of cold I hadn't felt in months.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I wasn't going hard and I wasn't going easy. The objective here was to soak in the ride and not crash. At times the snow was slippery, in other places the dirt was soft and my rear wheel slid more than I would have liked. I just tried to ride smart and look around so I could recall this ride when I can't ride.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">NOAA says we would be getting ten to twelve inches of snow tonight. This ride was going to be it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My eye doctor says I get a lens next week. After more than five hundred days, that ordeal could be coming to an end. After that surgery I'll be on the sidelined for another month, so my return may be on skis. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkafiTcsuJaDLsb_8cCAREmh64pcldSF69HFLqBhdtsK8Fq8I5F0WHtwtC0SGkUwNZZIB6xMtBUWI_0pwl-rrd8NWaaJNslwFFOySTHlLFa7OOUvnARIMFosR5gbRmcrT93OUCQ0StPxwvMsG-ai4d10-GeC_HaZa3qkXHwn2Z8gV0kS2Jh7QOCVN4g/s4032/IMG_2589.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkafiTcsuJaDLsb_8cCAREmh64pcldSF69HFLqBhdtsK8Fq8I5F0WHtwtC0SGkUwNZZIB6xMtBUWI_0pwl-rrd8NWaaJNslwFFOySTHlLFa7OOUvnARIMFosR5gbRmcrT93OUCQ0StPxwvMsG-ai4d10-GeC_HaZa3qkXHwn2Z8gV0kS2Jh7QOCVN4g/w640-h480/IMG_2589.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Here is the warming hut. All it needs is some snow.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03x85jgp-jURGk5qMX8R_Rw_OWoGgD3cwuo6kHV6iYBvvItWwnzvaYPS-OXcT6IcwkaEvYXhPozxZ0K6SHSpNVCeGJ5ax8m6Tfe9fdL-sLM5EPggS0Dt7KkVTqEwe90NKrHBUJT3fbLO-YtkUaa8M_Wgt2Os23WUo4yRC-L65253GXWuA0ur9BeFX5w/s4032/IMG_2276.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03x85jgp-jURGk5qMX8R_Rw_OWoGgD3cwuo6kHV6iYBvvItWwnzvaYPS-OXcT6IcwkaEvYXhPozxZ0K6SHSpNVCeGJ5ax8m6Tfe9fdL-sLM5EPggS0Dt7KkVTqEwe90NKrHBUJT3fbLO-YtkUaa8M_Wgt2Os23WUo4yRC-L65253GXWuA0ur9BeFX5w/s320/IMG_2276.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is me. Ready to turn the page? Hell yes!</span></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-17357561687567760182022-07-13T16:31:00.000-07:002022-07-13T16:31:14.304-07:00Time rolls on<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWTwmjM4AaoAmI1-bgfLcDuvPVk0ZPXISrHJag-mcuZBYF0y2TyxwrzwvYWJ_KVwjGEDpMN_xif60DosSQY7c_WMXnAiaGoRHEopTkaaovXY60Or6TZ9jNXM3G3YbXRGOjvCgJp9ltU8R4cJK3EPUXp-Kips9ZWZCF2P84idMMnEPjO3bqtvgmAw8ew/s4032/6A885203-E1D2-4683-93BB-C8790F666290.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWTwmjM4AaoAmI1-bgfLcDuvPVk0ZPXISrHJag-mcuZBYF0y2TyxwrzwvYWJ_KVwjGEDpMN_xif60DosSQY7c_WMXnAiaGoRHEopTkaaovXY60Or6TZ9jNXM3G3YbXRGOjvCgJp9ltU8R4cJK3EPUXp-Kips9ZWZCF2P84idMMnEPjO3bqtvgmAw8ew/w640-h480/6A885203-E1D2-4683-93BB-C8790F666290.heic" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is between ninety and one hundred degrees as I climb steadily, the sun overhead shines down through my bike helmet and jersey and into my soul. The shadows from the trees on either side of the road fail to reach to the pavement. Everything about this moment says heat, yet I recognize this open stretch of road as a spot where, in springtime when the snow is retreating, I have had to turn around as the snow on the road becomes solid just around the corner. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The oddity of thinking of snow in the burning heat of summer reminds me of my own seasonality. Only a month ago I was lamenting my complete lack of fitness and now just between yesterday and today I will have nearly six hours of saddle time. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">At times my physical setbacks seem unending, yet if I step back wisdom tells me this too will pass. After a spring that refused to come to an end, summer is here; dry, dusty and hot. Seeing the mountains now one would never imagine that in six months they will be blanketed with snow, subject to the long, cold dark nights of winter. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Yes, today shows no hint of any other day, but those days will come. I welcome today and I will welcome the changes when they happen. For now, I will pause, breathe deep and be grateful. </span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-1618226762571060522022-06-26T18:13:00.001-07:002022-06-26T18:13:33.560-07:00Can I please have my body back?<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GAzUp038VfDUh7EAZvbwFceOsP0B6JOqhmuKOymp_XajW158zAQXfds4qEgtDK37mEqGK3b7PIeUIuU5SnbOZYSb8iaFzomNGAwrY1EaaXz5s5bPZR_SQmgA2TDFTcJDYMX825nOSdo-vIn9stfBe1DnKffenjNQJ6UK0I7-v8rRRwvpMbaqIQWtbg/s2928/D69E16F4-CF66-49DA-B4B1-C5CF9956DA66_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2928" data-original-width="2756" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GAzUp038VfDUh7EAZvbwFceOsP0B6JOqhmuKOymp_XajW158zAQXfds4qEgtDK37mEqGK3b7PIeUIuU5SnbOZYSb8iaFzomNGAwrY1EaaXz5s5bPZR_SQmgA2TDFTcJDYMX825nOSdo-vIn9stfBe1DnKffenjNQJ6UK0I7-v8rRRwvpMbaqIQWtbg/w376-h400/D69E16F4-CF66-49DA-B4B1-C5CF9956DA66_1_201_a.heic" width="376" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Marty, where did I leave the Flux Capaciter?</span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After months of living my pirate life I had a chance to take a step toward normal vision. The hope lasted only a few days and then it was a step backward and an unplanned surgery. I'll spare you the sad story and get to the subject of this post.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After this eye surgery my physical activity was more strictly limited than in the past. By the time I was given the green light it had been just over six solid weeks of nothing. Don't even bend over to tie your shoes nothing. Have your son carry your luggage nothing. Walk, but not too briskly, nothing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">When I got back on the bike I had nothing. It was like I was trapped in someone else's body. That someone else was not a lifetime athlete, it was a fat slob who had puny lungs and weak legs. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On my rides my HR zones were a full 1.5 zones above where they should have been. It seemed wrong, but then afterwards the way my body felt was consistent with the actual heart rates. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I had only six days before my team was coming to the Methow for a handful of days riding gravel. I tried to cram in some training with predictable results. I bet it all on the one big day and managed to avoid cramping until I was past the flame rouge. I finished the ride pedaling with one leg. I was blown. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkHSMxV5S62xeZFkp1u3zz6Hj1V3ywqJhDNX0BrzOc3m5pMv_j8E-UFDTMm0rVStUn4mzcqp6qLUWb-PC2Edx-vDIubKqP-bPv3GjPAHFpg0sY4YVXvFcLZFU_wNo6kVBh22QOAI2MKuoIE_Bminyqno-ySKTVu5ST1lSyEbBJjLN-qw5lShYSQ8R4g/s4032/4B646E2A-2E26-428C-A921-ED116F3065E9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkHSMxV5S62xeZFkp1u3zz6Hj1V3ywqJhDNX0BrzOc3m5pMv_j8E-UFDTMm0rVStUn4mzcqp6qLUWb-PC2Edx-vDIubKqP-bPv3GjPAHFpg0sY4YVXvFcLZFU_wNo6kVBh22QOAI2MKuoIE_Bminyqno-ySKTVu5ST1lSyEbBJjLN-qw5lShYSQ8R4g/w640-h480/4B646E2A-2E26-428C-A921-ED116F3065E9.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">My usual training ploy after a setback is to load up on zone two miles. The problem this time was that to go zone two speed, I had to tickle zone four. I slept like a pile of dirty laundry. This was hard. Getting back in shape is a young man's game and I am not a young man.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After a couple weeks of trying to build up some fitness I went on a nice Saturday ride with Hottie. The next day was our team's Coffee and Lies ride. The fast guys went slower and the rest of us were compelled to keep up with them as a thank you for their kindness. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzX70uJ3VLbIJKFpXCF05HYvbEeclBjyjwYPuEYU6cqw7PGyt5pLMudDNzkqU-nhjKngkeY3n34ULYjtGG-EJKoRBRvcGDajGVs5gTrVYqcnQM8cFZwxHIdhwNF0FSTkDqtTx_XmUPEIJMuWWH3dOOJzR-kMesul3oW-2AN3Lz2Istyw_xqIx7ZiWC4g/s4032/78A58642-A5A1-433A-880B-6395723B4928.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzX70uJ3VLbIJKFpXCF05HYvbEeclBjyjwYPuEYU6cqw7PGyt5pLMudDNzkqU-nhjKngkeY3n34ULYjtGG-EJKoRBRvcGDajGVs5gTrVYqcnQM8cFZwxHIdhwNF0FSTkDqtTx_XmUPEIJMuWWH3dOOJzR-kMesul3oW-2AN3Lz2Istyw_xqIx7ZiWC4g/w640-h480/78A58642-A5A1-433A-880B-6395723B4928.heic" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was due for a hard day and I actually felt like I had some power. I had resumed running for the first time since my forced rest period. That may have given my legs some power. Maybe. It wasn't impressive, or fast, but it was what I had on this day and I was happy with it.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is rare that my legs hurt even before the ride is over, but the climb up to the cafe was a mix of twitches and simply sore legs. It felt good to be strong enough to have tired legs. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">To distract my mind from the hurt I tried to plan my afternoon ahead so as to minimize the number of trips I would have to make up and down our stairs. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">When I got home I felt I had earned the right to what had been forced on me for all of the month of May; nothingness. I relaxed and spent some time chillin with Hottie.</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-54102581050721160022022-04-10T19:52:00.005-07:002022-04-10T19:52:33.241-07:00Loaded for bear<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6MjFYqDRlb1BCFTcP8jkHbQ5Hxgdf_vRBRjmXUvOwX21iZbIz5PcBNzYqkP0uSoUTklLPEy5dv1cuN-2E0eEvHwtnkwysBiXbZh6dgD9NIOjc5i9s5esPcDiTF-S5t2Xsp5r9kE_cwHdC9r41bQOJWRynJc8I7eugBE-P1nJC4uxwUB7wd7vJ6GG-w/s4032/C2D30A7E-09F3-41DB-AB33-0BDE5D2E2514.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6MjFYqDRlb1BCFTcP8jkHbQ5Hxgdf_vRBRjmXUvOwX21iZbIz5PcBNzYqkP0uSoUTklLPEy5dv1cuN-2E0eEvHwtnkwysBiXbZh6dgD9NIOjc5i9s5esPcDiTF-S5t2Xsp5r9kE_cwHdC9r41bQOJWRynJc8I7eugBE-P1nJC4uxwUB7wd7vJ6GG-w/w640-h480/C2D30A7E-09F3-41DB-AB33-0BDE5D2E2514.jpeg" width="640" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The road, like a slender finger of spring, splits winter and reaches into the backcountry. Spring is here with the promise of long days of sunshine. Under a blue sky dotted with clouds ranging from white to grey three souls rolled out of Mazama and follow that road into the mountains where winter remains steadfast.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">As the miles ticked by we climb and the snow on either side of the road grows deeper. Wild flowers are starting to bloom on the valley floor, yet the mountains are still cloaked under a deep blanket of snow. Spring is a time of contrasts.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">As we ride, we look lumpy, our pockets bulging as we make our way deeper into the hills. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The road isn't ready for cars and, on weekends, the snow plows are idle. We ride three abreast. The first hour was warm, but now the clouds are thicker and a wind is bringing the chill of the snow through our jerseys. Patches of ice on the pavement become larger and more frequent. Finally we round a corner and can see the road goes into a wall of snow. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOKgS3rtJMMNg6ZUT6ks26viculmOq74mTEiYAhKFxuQspeg7KPVw0Khgcug7u3b5Sb1qaCyC4HqS0h1zqP_yTfYL4e98QfoISfQuEdrg_TgBMBjlsSnnKkcX5wkHSBYPD6VNtni4QmcbWWTr4IHuY-YMdolqOBrmv7KoZsm8ez79uQcAdU_lB_NTDYA/s4032/586352CD-01DA-4BEC-B258-E5FCF3893D1C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOKgS3rtJMMNg6ZUT6ks26viculmOq74mTEiYAhKFxuQspeg7KPVw0Khgcug7u3b5Sb1qaCyC4HqS0h1zqP_yTfYL4e98QfoISfQuEdrg_TgBMBjlsSnnKkcX5wkHSBYPD6VNtni4QmcbWWTr4IHuY-YMdolqOBrmv7KoZsm8ez79uQcAdU_lB_NTDYA/w640-h480/586352CD-01DA-4BEC-B258-E5FCF3893D1C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">There is no doubt we are at the end. Often in spring I ride a road to where the snow takes over and there is a "Should I, or shouldn't I?" moment as I consider if I should turn a</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">round or keep going. No debate here. This is it.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoSI_PcoPrdIHgYMbQzt2hYrEm-QpFwZ72HqShWi6eJL9mALXvzTVpLuHE02EyP-AUI8HS1TK3QHb8rbT-ddyIS4FFS_zzp5I7QoXXfsn5tIifc0fGUskBFIGOGkAXyUswCkPaONda6d6Z0HX3YlF_9Sqo4bxkUylEAKOapImy_ZK33QeNfiM8gVj9nA/s4032/6F4B5046-ABC1-40D2-AEBD-10E7F24F818F.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoSI_PcoPrdIHgYMbQzt2hYrEm-QpFwZ72HqShWi6eJL9mALXvzTVpLuHE02EyP-AUI8HS1TK3QHb8rbT-ddyIS4FFS_zzp5I7QoXXfsn5tIifc0fGUskBFIGOGkAXyUswCkPaONda6d6Z0HX3YlF_9Sqo4bxkUylEAKOapImy_ZK33QeNfiM8gVj9nA/w480-h640/6F4B5046-ABC1-40D2-AEBD-10E7F24F818F.jpeg" width="480" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We look around and realize it has begun to spit snow. We are emptying our pockets like we are contestants in a game show. We pull out jackets, vests, gloves, tights, and neck warmers. I sit on the pavement to put on wind pants. I am amazed that the road isn't cold. We dress as fast as we can and then begin what we know will be a long, cold descent. We are no longer lumpy, we are dressed to stay warm. We have all done this multiple times over the years and we came prepared.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghfq5g71XKMgN7XEqfbRj8uyRVbVNEjCaOUsjGgmXECjdqIQg8FD8_HneJDq2jmnvqt0TxTauu-Yxf6lmkyXGgA_a9BwzKCzQb3cKxY62vzlWphEp3e6ndmtXIX9SGjZkagQZUA_5gmmoxYiaAFjtsXagDVvIhJA8At1EXHAod6NFrbSx4PaUMbTEpmg/s4032/F7E4E211-4F5F-4867-AC42-D891FE06E74D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghfq5g71XKMgN7XEqfbRj8uyRVbVNEjCaOUsjGgmXECjdqIQg8FD8_HneJDq2jmnvqt0TxTauu-Yxf6lmkyXGgA_a9BwzKCzQb3cKxY62vzlWphEp3e6ndmtXIX9SGjZkagQZUA_5gmmoxYiaAFjtsXagDVvIhJA8At1EXHAod6NFrbSx4PaUMbTEpmg/w640-h480/F7E4E211-4F5F-4867-AC42-D891FE06E74D.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: center;">Time to get going. </div></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">As we begin the descent the sweat on the front of my beanie turns cold and I have an ice cream headache. The wind blows in our faces, then from the side, then for a moment behind us as we ride down the mountain we spent the last two hours riding up. I realize that while I am not quite warm, I am not cold. After several minutes we see two cyclists heading up and they are not lumpy. They will be cold. They will be very, very cold.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We trade pulls and can't help but have fun on the never ending descent. The road grade fluctuates as we drop thousand of feet. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">As we near the valley floor we see a cyclist with bare arms and legs. He appears to be out for a short ride and will turn around soon (we hope). We finish our ride and welcome some hot lentil soup into our bellies. We express gratitude for the day, the ride and each other's company. </span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-49207862756002976822022-02-23T20:11:00.000-08:002022-02-23T20:11:23.774-08:00Yeah - I'm off plan<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZU-1qGjX9JYA1EnxGkZQQgGySYHY7zZod2UDqeOf4TBwD8OYMXT48DcPeBCL_7dvTgKyJeExX0wD__ad9D6JILuKO3g4b1PURCd0VrYYeI9VaxXcjjYH28RRuU9Qb1BPwujcI4qHIDclPJ8oBxl7YYNhVKKWqi26ojolE6LS9RaAfMkPv2LyXfo-ctg=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZU-1qGjX9JYA1EnxGkZQQgGySYHY7zZod2UDqeOf4TBwD8OYMXT48DcPeBCL_7dvTgKyJeExX0wD__ad9D6JILuKO3g4b1PURCd0VrYYeI9VaxXcjjYH28RRuU9Qb1BPwujcI4qHIDclPJ8oBxl7YYNhVKKWqi26ojolE6LS9RaAfMkPv2LyXfo-ctg=w247-h329" width="247" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: center;">Pirate for a year</div></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This shouldn't be forever, but after eight months, it feels like it has already been forever. Yes, you adapt; but everything is harder. I said everything, and I mean everything. I am grateful to be where I am and am glad I have been able to adapt as well as I have. I have learned that I need those around me. Hottie and TQ have been essential to my success and happiness. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">More later. Just wanted to let my fans know I'm not dead, just laying low and getting ready to attack!</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-72102584183788128372021-10-29T10:50:00.007-07:002021-10-29T10:50:42.098-07:00Road bikes are finished<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90F8gA0n0Xpa6iwZqq8aDq-yoHHiagwh1O3hBWyub7HVeUa5n4tviTfY5I3oEibFtNRUKW-hdUUDQRRbdHTZ1NTM4Sjv8sfhhI5Pr81igHs6NaYKvobzLUBOkLdtJHUNGuTWNB0mgS53z/s2048/0793F94F-6EF8-44AE-8B83-D8FFE17D5CB3.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90F8gA0n0Xpa6iwZqq8aDq-yoHHiagwh1O3hBWyub7HVeUa5n4tviTfY5I3oEibFtNRUKW-hdUUDQRRbdHTZ1NTM4Sjv8sfhhI5Pr81igHs6NaYKvobzLUBOkLdtJHUNGuTWNB0mgS53z/w640-h480/0793F94F-6EF8-44AE-8B83-D8FFE17D5CB3.heic" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In a recent conversation, someone said, “Road bikes are about as good as they are ever going to get.” That was a bold statement, but the more I listened and thought about it. I had to agree. Road bikes are about as light as they can be, as stiff as one wants then to be, about as aero as they can be and between tubeless, discs and the evolution of modern shifting, those are pretty close to optimal as well. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I recall the stiffness journey as frames, cranksets, shoes, and wheels all got stiffer and stiffer, before getting more compliant. The frame shapes that once traded aerodynamics for weight now manage to tick both boxes. The axle standards have settled in at 12mm TA. Disc brakes are now standard and we are never going back.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There isn’t any frontier that has much to give up for road bikes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mountain bikes and gravel bikes are still changing and changing rapidly. AS amazing as those bikes are, there is more to come. </div></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-51074460557438597752021-10-24T10:56:00.004-07:002021-10-24T10:56:29.131-07:00Privacy isn't what it used to be<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_AgNh1sPPeCtdiNYm0syQRDc8ohwOXntHNNSIIPQHvrPLBuVq9Cx3c-piCLeGxvZh1CvMmvak41ChZamHHXDGtIGgRNrUGWkPt_yLbrqi7aB-ecl_CLN8jiWq5_zKwxGGO54lP-4wnIp6/s1391/Screen+Shot+2021-10-24+at+10.50.11+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="1391" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_AgNh1sPPeCtdiNYm0syQRDc8ohwOXntHNNSIIPQHvrPLBuVq9Cx3c-piCLeGxvZh1CvMmvak41ChZamHHXDGtIGgRNrUGWkPt_yLbrqi7aB-ecl_CLN8jiWq5_zKwxGGO54lP-4wnIp6/w640-h248/Screen+Shot+2021-10-24+at+10.50.11+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">Apparently, I'm dead.</span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">As a kid when we would get a new phone book I would open it and find our name and phone number. As an adult I went to the trouble to get an unlisted phone number. Today I'm on the FCC do not call list. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">When the internet was fresh, it was interesting to type in your name and see what came up. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now it is scary. Name, birthdate, address, phone number, spouse and employers past and present all pop up. Also showing up are former spouses, their spouses, kids, parents, former addresses.... all connected to me! Too much for my liking. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It turns out that even when your data is taken from legal sources (tax records, public filings, etc.) it is still YOUR data and you have a say in how it can be shared. But it takes action.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">A tech savvy friend told me what it would take to get my info removed from the websites that collect and offer up our personal data. I spent about an hour starting the process myself and was overwhelmed. I realized it would take me hours of effort spread out over weeks, no, months, no.... years! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There were three things that struck me; first it would take a ton of one time effort to remove my personal information, second, I would need to learn how to do it as the rules keep changing and third, as new services pop up, or my data resurfaces I would have to search out my info and repeat the process again and again and again.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Knowledge, expertise and sophisticated tools, that is what makes something a business opportunity. There must be a company that does this.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://www.mydataremoval.com/?source=evo_davo" target="_blank">My Data Removal</a> does this. You confirm who you are and what data is yours (they can't remove incorrect data, only real data) and they remove your data from the sites that mine your data. On an ongoing basis they use software to constantly look for your data to pop up again and if it does, they remove it again. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm at a point in my life where I have enough assets that I am someone who can be targeted and also someone who does not mind paying less than my coffee budget to keep my data safe. No brainer. I would strongly recommend you consider this. </span><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWueRhGaDYgMMa1UGRNCe5-qWa9F-0K4LAjPnRfzahFL7sW6vUijTepgoZY60veG-QW9Tik-FINen9qcv2Ig1JmLC1Qdu1cr24Sbf6ax7hvrC9jQ5l0JPCNVG-XhuKueMxu836bDYWMdM/s1338/Screen+Shot+2021-10-24+at+10.22.07+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="875" data-original-width="1338" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWueRhGaDYgMMa1UGRNCe5-qWa9F-0K4LAjPnRfzahFL7sW6vUijTepgoZY60veG-QW9Tik-FINen9qcv2Ig1JmLC1Qdu1cr24Sbf6ax7hvrC9jQ5l0JPCNVG-XhuKueMxu836bDYWMdM/w640-h418/Screen+Shot+2021-10-24+at+10.22.07+AM.png" width="640" /></a></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-16487753630810875912021-09-05T14:47:00.003-07:002021-09-05T14:47:17.708-07:00Mortality<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTyoNrm5NWh-8YHemXgW9Hm46spmjy6kwmN-59q9hOiJ1FCTDUX7K8FCuCdpSaYMhJpgcDABfNw3D52Z3sWUeq6igwgGotC9zV4kHgTS49Wsinr3Asp7zMoookELECjslDOJCAV79cPWUo/s2048/06CADC28-7DA7-4DA3-8203-A95B1BF11F26.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTyoNrm5NWh-8YHemXgW9Hm46spmjy6kwmN-59q9hOiJ1FCTDUX7K8FCuCdpSaYMhJpgcDABfNw3D52Z3sWUeq6igwgGotC9zV4kHgTS49Wsinr3Asp7zMoookELECjslDOJCAV79cPWUo/w480-h640/06CADC28-7DA7-4DA3-8203-A95B1BF11F26.heic" width="480" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-family: verdana;">You don't know what you've got 'til you lose it all, again.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> - Bruce Hornsby </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is like each day I was issues a hundred points to use as I saw fit. Work took sixty or seventy points, then a few for a workout, some more for making dinner, etc. Finally, the last few to balance the books and pay bills. Now it is like I only get 70 points and work takes more than it used to and I'm pretty much out of points by two or three in the afternoon and my head hurts. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have tried to tell myself that it will pass, but the outlook now is that it will be well into 2022 before I have a chance to get back to the old normal. I'm all about positivity, but man, this is a challenge.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've seen some windows closing, but I never had any idea some could close this FAST. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I know I need to start from scratch and build some base fitness in anticipation of getting my vision working again. Sadly I'm an all or nothing kind of guy and not being able to mountain bike or put something challenging on the calendar is making my mind hurt. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzy1jkFrS3dinZJH_AQAIP4D60OeWagkv9LQ18W4Vdxc9milkdW-k1lXlNc94drTwAodZlugLpHb1K_TQ-doxd0vkXh2mWp-pwjEDGL3NUhejMZgTKdHIDYB5nW7LMHgbe8l-e5FGtBPy/s2048/93E1710A-F553-482E-924D-0880B4441A3C.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzy1jkFrS3dinZJH_AQAIP4D60OeWagkv9LQ18W4Vdxc9milkdW-k1lXlNc94drTwAodZlugLpHb1K_TQ-doxd0vkXh2mWp-pwjEDGL3NUhejMZgTKdHIDYB5nW7LMHgbe8l-e5FGtBPy/w640-h480/93E1710A-F553-482E-924D-0880B4441A3C.heic" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've had to build from zero before, but I'm not even at zero yet. </span><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-32569856460323605732021-07-16T20:50:00.005-07:002021-07-16T20:50:53.588-07:00Back on the trail....<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxEMESV-utaZEXMJsy48qDBD0OM0M_8yeIIx4wsTZp2zIJj-zytEuWRjcNMKxuS0YQvsJLOOwyF93iAMoK33HKxYq_0tGzQ4vwKsSbQMz1ENBGlC3vqDa_Qv8-jlFbiJdYjJIocUnHY6c/s2016/C4A01E54-075D-41D3-9C86-3E1AC840CE3D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxEMESV-utaZEXMJsy48qDBD0OM0M_8yeIIx4wsTZp2zIJj-zytEuWRjcNMKxuS0YQvsJLOOwyF93iAMoK33HKxYq_0tGzQ4vwKsSbQMz1ENBGlC3vqDa_Qv8-jlFbiJdYjJIocUnHY6c/w640-h480/C4A01E54-075D-41D3-9C86-3E1AC840CE3D.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div> I feel like I'm always coming back from something. Today is no different...<p></p><p>I crashed a friend's party and went for a quick overnight backpack in our Cascade mountains. The bad news was I needed to use two hiking poles, the good news is neither was white with a red tip. It felt good to be moving on the trail and the poles helped for sure. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIyTwJYzlp1XbJwW85mjVic4-79zWHTgH4dFNqIkSmEGeNuPukMDhEOVvIGXqnvChNpDrFlR_Y6xgyBOZzG_CKfgkYHmSkdkh_PJnZRA5mkLcIdjdA38NCLp3rCyyYokSOZB7kExz2bez6/s2048/FF0CE102-5130-4A9F-B027-2864ADA11B00_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1746" data-original-width="2048" height="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIyTwJYzlp1XbJwW85mjVic4-79zWHTgH4dFNqIkSmEGeNuPukMDhEOVvIGXqnvChNpDrFlR_Y6xgyBOZzG_CKfgkYHmSkdkh_PJnZRA5mkLcIdjdA38NCLp3rCyyYokSOZB7kExz2bez6/w640-h546/FF0CE102-5130-4A9F-B027-2864ADA11B00_1_201_a.heic" width="640" /></a></div> This hat makes my eye look green.<br /><p>Two weeks ago California sent us their triple digit heat and for this trip it seems Alaska sent us their mosquito population. We had headnets and we knew how to use them. We sprayed anything exposed with cancer to keep the buzzing menaces from biting.</p><p>I awoke to find a small creature had chewed a large hold in one of my stuff sacks, but no damage to the tent, so I called that a win.</p><p>A relaxed breakfast and casual roll out brought our adventure to a fine conclusion.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPac0t3PQu2aX7KQ-hJZbr-xjwP5XS77lIG6hZI6ETzswA-54rExFf4lgbE_k4f0dPvHA5Z431kw5AdTJORfYkC0tY9bOVydGeSh1eiaXUEKhiWMX0fZdTzd12bI6diXYaiENZdgyo8S4Z/s2016/7D0A277C-57AA-4D96-B39D-E60DFB1B0C1D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPac0t3PQu2aX7KQ-hJZbr-xjwP5XS77lIG6hZI6ETzswA-54rExFf4lgbE_k4f0dPvHA5Z431kw5AdTJORfYkC0tY9bOVydGeSh1eiaXUEKhiWMX0fZdTzd12bI6diXYaiENZdgyo8S4Z/w640-h480/7D0A277C-57AA-4D96-B39D-E60DFB1B0C1D.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div> This is Turbine leading Evo back to the car!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-91745171535200561822021-07-03T20:25:00.000-07:002021-07-03T20:25:07.842-07:00Snapshots in a box<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAD1PjNIXefO2PCX1ZTQCGpTXpgeEazFPvCYvgzX7_Yuz8VdU4lnSb0_Uz82LmoQWaz6oPfQeQa2HANZH8bt_9TPh-CqPnPkXz22fS0-U3BWIVjcmHkwg7AaRK8Z_YuObFbDErZyElwfb3/s2048/7DF5C111-DD72-42E5-BF20-ECCCE0D0538D_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1969" data-original-width="2048" height="616" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAD1PjNIXefO2PCX1ZTQCGpTXpgeEazFPvCYvgzX7_Yuz8VdU4lnSb0_Uz82LmoQWaz6oPfQeQa2HANZH8bt_9TPh-CqPnPkXz22fS0-U3BWIVjcmHkwg7AaRK8Z_YuObFbDErZyElwfb3/w640-h616/7DF5C111-DD72-42E5-BF20-ECCCE0D0538D_1_201_a.heic" width="640" /></a></div>It happens so fast. I close my eyes and remember learning to ride my red Royce Union bike and my first day of school. I remember the first day a child of mine went to school. After decades of reliance on my body as a tool to get me out of tricky situations, I am resigned to accept my age as a real number. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-nTI1DOlo78yWNHcH3ZqvPZAEsiiRex0IRQ8fP0poWWlcJfsbS9roSEMKD3lV4IYWu4KlqaHUq3rLJbAwybX2gHW1I19grj3gzmDg1fKSvp4mHsugESRTTTOUbQZ44pRE47WdRug8qJc/s2048/07CB2A39-F661-42D2-B59B-D6A375B7E0CD.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1740" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-nTI1DOlo78yWNHcH3ZqvPZAEsiiRex0IRQ8fP0poWWlcJfsbS9roSEMKD3lV4IYWu4KlqaHUq3rLJbAwybX2gHW1I19grj3gzmDg1fKSvp4mHsugESRTTTOUbQZ44pRE47WdRug8qJc/w544-h640/07CB2A39-F661-42D2-B59B-D6A375B7E0CD.heic" width="544" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>The doctor cites my age as a risk factor. My VO2 Max or Garmin Fitness age don't seem to matter to him. I can go on a five hour bike ride and come home and make dinner, but my fitness now has a fragility that it has not had before. Looking at the ceiling waiting for surgery I recall looking at the ceiling waiting to see the principal in elementary school. I was in trouble then and I'm in trouble now. At my age I don't feel helpless often, but I fear it may be a trend.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKI-rBhbmvfFYEwhC9Th96pPAowlKHl_rczOHQOQcQYp-K49xAJz-1hckjfjWz0_9b4OgHIlIBcAFlltp88gXUhWv0gHn22zr51TYN8mBS9jQG6rJY8ZsnUV-hcwRnCFQFIfNhZABOBG5K/s2048/22540BFE-2150-4284-9017-5EFCC74FAB71_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1498" data-original-width="2048" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKI-rBhbmvfFYEwhC9Th96pPAowlKHl_rczOHQOQcQYp-K49xAJz-1hckjfjWz0_9b4OgHIlIBcAFlltp88gXUhWv0gHn22zr51TYN8mBS9jQG6rJY8ZsnUV-hcwRnCFQFIfNhZABOBG5K/w640-h468/22540BFE-2150-4284-9017-5EFCC74FAB71_1_201_a.heic" width="640" /></a></div><p>I watched my grandson Drew trying so hard and in him I saw my own son who both hated his older brother and wanted more than anything to be his older brother. Drew's older brother is like his dad and his dad's dad. How could I have been so cruel to my younger brother without giving it a thought? </p><p>After my mother was moved into her new apartment and bags and boxes were dropped at goodwill and the trash place and my daughter took what she could use, there were two large boxes of photographs and keepsakes that summed up my mom's life. Big photos of her parents and others born a hundred or more years ago. The results of a tennis tournament she played in fifty years ago. Photos of my mother as a young woman ready to take on the world. She asks me a question. Five minutes later she asks again. Two minutes after that she asks a third time. I smile and put my arm around her. She knows she has done something wrong, but doesn't know what it is. My assurance calms her. I am glad I can give her some peace. </p><p>We aren't all astronauts. I may have finally leaned patience. Everyone is doing the best they can. Whomever set up the process isn't the person standing in front of you so don't take it out on them. Smile and say, "Thank you." People don't hear that enough. It is my secret weapon. Oops, no longer a secret. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7sZQJ8tKrD4A7iAj7DGWw6Rbjb8lGRiQK2HLtK4uoHCd_l6LPPsu8oXX3XlehwMNOUbk9bC0kQmn1bUsnzyVxU8pPlLSkrlaGX1PrK3wU40CvV7gQflk2YgNSglvF4KRZlPPcoZE_uwt/s2048/658F5ED7-BDB8-4037-A0FA-4DD6A65E3AC3.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1838" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7sZQJ8tKrD4A7iAj7DGWw6Rbjb8lGRiQK2HLtK4uoHCd_l6LPPsu8oXX3XlehwMNOUbk9bC0kQmn1bUsnzyVxU8pPlLSkrlaGX1PrK3wU40CvV7gQflk2YgNSglvF4KRZlPPcoZE_uwt/w574-h640/658F5ED7-BDB8-4037-A0FA-4DD6A65E3AC3.heic" width="574" /></a></div><p>Hottie loves me. Ever since I was that kid on my way to school in 1965 I was hoping people would like me. I'm a dick and Hottie still loves me. I am a lucky man. I hear the Beach boys songs I heard as a kid. When I heard them I hoped someone would love me, she does. I know she is frustrated beyond words with injuries that we hope will be done soon. I'm feeling helpless again. </p><p>I am lucky. I get to see (maybe a little blurry right now) people I love and beautiful places. I get to do fun things. I find more joy in helping my mom or trying to make Hottie feel special than I ever thought I would. I find joy in watching Kona play in every way he can. </p><p>That is it for today. </p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-29847358604526293072021-01-24T16:58:00.001-08:002021-01-24T16:58:16.668-08:00Old man winter<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-hqE8MFp-Rmz8xA6aJ0Zf3Mvilc9OVTOxL0SlvkS0OC2FSWedswUHVL0JcN-uxAY34cwMB00P-uCsi27bSRpKOHh4fBIBdsAJu_m5EncJY1LNJ0N-Uk56umS-B0FVzrG7ZyQ-s7dUGGoZ/s2048/40EDAAB9-A4A8-4E9A-B06D-4A1D360CCB7C_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1914" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-hqE8MFp-Rmz8xA6aJ0Zf3Mvilc9OVTOxL0SlvkS0OC2FSWedswUHVL0JcN-uxAY34cwMB00P-uCsi27bSRpKOHh4fBIBdsAJu_m5EncJY1LNJ0N-Uk56umS-B0FVzrG7ZyQ-s7dUGGoZ/w512-h548/40EDAAB9-A4A8-4E9A-B06D-4A1D360CCB7C_1_201_a.heic" width="512" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Wisdom says to live in the moment and enjoy where we are. I've spent so much of my life trying to fast forward and get to the next thing, at the expense of the present. Being outside more than most, I am aware the days are now getting ever so slightly longer. I walk and run and ski and ride, pushing forward, enjoying the now and looking forward to what tomorrow will bring. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Yet, there are times when the nights seem endless and, rarely, days that I never feel warm. The draft from an open door chills my soul. I touch cold metal and an icy shiver pierces me. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am savoring the winter and squeezing all I can from it. I am blessed. I know that. Now and then, when no one is looking, I close my eyes and imagine running or riding on a summer's day with bare arms, my shirt open, sweat on my chest. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">That day will come. Just not yet. They refer to winter as an old man. An old man that doesn't care, that has gotten where he is, just by momentum, by pushing for so long that time finally yielded. Winter is that way, simply the accumulation of so many cold days and nights. No flash, no bang, just cold and water and time. </span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-28484859666000366902021-01-18T18:02:00.000-08:002021-01-18T18:02:09.421-08:00Snow dog<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil6y9Qj6isJ0L0Q7wbpzGeujstVog6OgsAyMku6Jva8toy8WJkKyDrNUySosJeZiHSjwwySjJ2ZUMBPSvY5ov_oSwgLfugNdkyu8tbKuXozAboPyqr07V1txa6lLy7ZsS51r4W3nlNZ0eH/s2048/8A403661-F427-4567-8A26-7F3E229B867D_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1109" data-original-width="2048" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil6y9Qj6isJ0L0Q7wbpzGeujstVog6OgsAyMku6Jva8toy8WJkKyDrNUySosJeZiHSjwwySjJ2ZUMBPSvY5ov_oSwgLfugNdkyu8tbKuXozAboPyqr07V1txa6lLy7ZsS51r4W3nlNZ0eH/w605-h327/8A403661-F427-4567-8A26-7F3E229B867D_1_201_a.heic" width="605" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"> You mean I can go full speed on this straight trail? Hell yeah!</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Kona has been miss and hit on coming when called. With a solid layer of snow and temperatures perfect for a thin-skinned greyhound, we decided to see if Kona would enjoy running on one of the dog-friendly trails in the Methow. Lest we forget, Kona was born and raced in Florida. His first experience with snow in November was not good. What would happen?</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwf-NRTqUgoARSeTy8FZi-SFTrUlYgeiy83-14e84a7p8j06qrk2bvs4Asa2QwQMLiPVaLiZ65EcRYVZbEkjKQzJ2JOTfPdHEevRlQCyV4RRy74VDRXxSFWjASzdQJpxwWfLABgx3_aCgU/s2048/B65039D8-DFCB-4A93-A8CD-C671A02121BE_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1357" data-original-width="2048" height="487" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwf-NRTqUgoARSeTy8FZi-SFTrUlYgeiy83-14e84a7p8j06qrk2bvs4Asa2QwQMLiPVaLiZ65EcRYVZbEkjKQzJ2JOTfPdHEevRlQCyV4RRy74VDRXxSFWjASzdQJpxwWfLABgx3_aCgU/w735-h487/B65039D8-DFCB-4A93-A8CD-C671A02121BE_1_201_a.heic" width="735" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Where we going? I'm in. Where we going? I'm in. Where we going?<br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I had promised myself I would take Tux running on the winter trails, but it just never happened. I felt grief for that and determined not to let it happen to Kona. I figured Tux would approve of taking his young nephew, Kona, in his place.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">At the trailhead I readied the fat bike and then brought out Kona on a leash. After giving him a treat and making sure he knew I had more, I unclipped his leash and we took off. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have taken him trail running a few times keeping him on a leash. That follows a familiar pattern of him pulling like a sled dog the first mile or so and then me dragging him back home. He was a professional racer, now retired exactly one year to the day, but his races were only seventeen seconds long. He did exceed forty miles an hour on those races, but he has yet to figure out the endurance thing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">He sniffed some other dog's pee in the snow and then launched after me and passed at a full gallop. He loved that I could go fast as I clicked down the cassette flying along. The trail stretched out in front of us and he looked back as if to ask if he could just open up. I cheered him on and he was so happy to run. He greeted other dogs and ran with them a bit before continuing on his way. This was heaven for him. <br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQeCnQ1fZ3TH5WwwmDIpNz6v1nvWqQK1bbciAj4TY_-_eq4MLyS2-jkV4KvN4AJgsjWQgtTkiIhUk6j-oi22Ja1FzSCuzvMiLmhmP00wpXjdNBrLG7exZmz8EXdhNo3GX_PGWTaR7oGZax/s2048/281CE720-1247-46E7-8B50-18982D4D7C0D.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQeCnQ1fZ3TH5WwwmDIpNz6v1nvWqQK1bbciAj4TY_-_eq4MLyS2-jkV4KvN4AJgsjWQgtTkiIhUk6j-oi22Ja1FzSCuzvMiLmhmP00wpXjdNBrLG7exZmz8EXdhNo3GX_PGWTaR7oGZax/w539-h404/281CE720-1247-46E7-8B50-18982D4D7C0D.heic" width="539" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We then stopped and I took off his coat as his running had generated plenty of heat. In Florida they would take them in wading pools to cool them off after races. Without his coat in the sunshine, bounding in full stride he looked like he was born for this life. He was panting now and his muscles bulging. A skier with his own dog commented on how beautiful Kona was. I agreed and he said it again, "He is just so beautiful. His markings, his muscles, his smile!" Kona looked not just fit, but so happy.<br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We got Kona in the age of COVID and he loves dogs and people and having everyone and every dog keeping their distance was torture for this social creature. Being able to greet people and dogs and run free was what this guy has been dreaming about for eight months. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After less than two kilometers I stopped and told Kona we should start heading back. He looked further down the trail and only reluctantly turned west and followed me. His strides now were bouncy and he was slower as we headed towards the trailhead. The shadows now reached the trail and the distractions of urine and holes in the snow had a greater pull than they had on the way out. My chain was on the other end of the cassette wrapped around the big cogs. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was now coaxing him along with treats and we were no longer passing skiers, but just holding our place among the groups heading back. He was spent and it was an effort to just go faster than a walk. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv_XRlOGO2zp4lolUF68oGxpwXDUsxIASABLuLOTLTh865MNvbyR0xHk1EYZQR_aCZEL3kO1D4OxZUjqkM6J1MPbGzCilFangA235uSZ7F5S_OgWob9UF3IujpkefqblA5imj0DaWyoPCp/s2048/EB466F44-523F-470A-88B1-A163E10D1897.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv_XRlOGO2zp4lolUF68oGxpwXDUsxIASABLuLOTLTh865MNvbyR0xHk1EYZQR_aCZEL3kO1D4OxZUjqkM6J1MPbGzCilFangA235uSZ7F5S_OgWob9UF3IujpkefqblA5imj0DaWyoPCp/w536-h402/EB466F44-523F-470A-88B1-A163E10D1897.heic" width="536" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"> In the shadows of Virginia Ridge. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">As we neared the parking lot I clipped his leash back on. When we got to the car he jumped in and flopped down on his bed while I secured the bike. The day could not have gone any better. He kind of minded me. The treats gave him a reason to stay close and he played well with other dogs, which I fully expected. He didn't leave the trail chasing a bunny or other small mammal off in the woods. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Pacing? We will leave that to another day.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On the drive back we declared success and Kona asked if we could do it again soon.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh1X5FnjX9FHYrBRSGtLSPIl7k8lOaNGVtcdOpi14tkEVOOyZ5GCZSKGicHOp-5HU9pYjDXx40uaQ0kfSHZTEFwD_xPAOWrz_O4kf-uGCuGBAZuD3pFvLI3_-Cprl_ry3XtImHIHrxdZUL/s2048/F3D62757-C96C-4721-9315-69A8D35A8F36_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1573" data-original-width="2048" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh1X5FnjX9FHYrBRSGtLSPIl7k8lOaNGVtcdOpi14tkEVOOyZ5GCZSKGicHOp-5HU9pYjDXx40uaQ0kfSHZTEFwD_xPAOWrz_O4kf-uGCuGBAZuD3pFvLI3_-Cprl_ry3XtImHIHrxdZUL/w536-h412/F3D62757-C96C-4721-9315-69A8D35A8F36_1_201_a.heic" width="536" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"> We stopped by Methow Trails and got him an annual pass. <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Yes Kona, we will do it again!</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Then we went home and both enjoyed a fine dinner <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span>(Kibble for him, Pizza for Hottie and me)</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSd12F08ctP-TF_7Jb7G5ozl0pVgECLDrJRHHBPqhmQxuYKrgneoHCLahIwGOdlTHbW1SrVymREm7t2PxoPR__40s9aw0lZLhKEbJ90QbpJ5uBpVKuL_ihzPTI-DeVyqNiSbd7jxyqjfE/s2048/C693A3C1-D884-4C7C-B3B6-EB56A2064535.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSd12F08ctP-TF_7Jb7G5ozl0pVgECLDrJRHHBPqhmQxuYKrgneoHCLahIwGOdlTHbW1SrVymREm7t2PxoPR__40s9aw0lZLhKEbJ90QbpJ5uBpVKuL_ihzPTI-DeVyqNiSbd7jxyqjfE/w570-h428/C693A3C1-D884-4C7C-B3B6-EB56A2064535.heic" width="570" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"> This is what happy looks like a couple hours later.</span><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-61992309452803635442021-01-09T13:17:00.004-08:002021-01-09T13:17:37.399-08:00Castelli Thermal Pro Skully Cap Review<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf1aWraZOIGpxn5qsXarVSRh-k2QbsDUuZ0YJCIqbDGjhZ67GEQk864UGcZck5uJfDMRnclRX15OEEPk8ksMTvtJQo78y39CnMTpE1eaI1G-7zNbaBCFgKLnBELnplJzMKq8TgSO2Mt9Ty/s2048/IMG_9790.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1905" data-original-width="2048" height="596" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf1aWraZOIGpxn5qsXarVSRh-k2QbsDUuZ0YJCIqbDGjhZ67GEQk864UGcZck5uJfDMRnclRX15OEEPk8ksMTvtJQo78y39CnMTpE1eaI1G-7zNbaBCFgKLnBELnplJzMKq8TgSO2Mt9Ty/w640-h596/IMG_9790.heic" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"> This is what it looks like.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It sucks. Really. "How can such a thin cap keep you warm?" It can't. There may be some comically narrow temperature range where it is useful, but cycling clothing needs to be versatile and this fails the test. Don't buy it and if you want mine, let me know and I don't like you, it is yours. <br /> </span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-87090929697117277672020-12-31T16:05:00.000-08:002020-12-31T16:05:03.038-08:002020 DONE!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja2OMR-shNM6K0mK-ncXnWOjobLQMCFYI7DuTXiSezuSk6F0z4zUiYC91PRW2B3MKzYEYNaAnK8VlFAEZTE82bAWVYA_Cq3SIdZ3DuX1xXEnKPm5DVg2NjkvlKT7dXlEa5CYRCMX944R1o/s2048/CD659A4F-C024-4543-BEB7-BE33D1C83691.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja2OMR-shNM6K0mK-ncXnWOjobLQMCFYI7DuTXiSezuSk6F0z4zUiYC91PRW2B3MKzYEYNaAnK8VlFAEZTE82bAWVYA_Cq3SIdZ3DuX1xXEnKPm5DVg2NjkvlKT7dXlEa5CYRCMX944R1o/w474-h632/CD659A4F-C024-4543-BEB7-BE33D1C83691.heic" width="474" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">2020 Started with such hope, only to expose our collective pettiness via tragedy. An inconvenience for Hottie and myself, yet a horror for others. I kept working. We had no major surgeries for the first year in a while. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We lost Tux. That hit me so hard I realized I actually have a heart. As a tribute to him, we welcomed his nephew, Kona, who has brought so much joy and love to our hearts. That was unexpected. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Bike races and bike rides were cancelled. Our Sunday "Coffee and Lies" rides took a five month hiatus. My son Tim and I were able to share the backpack trip of our collective dreams albeit with masks at the ready. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">An ideal remote work assignment allowed me not just to continue working, but to spend a majority of my time in my favorite place. So grateful. I ironed two shirts in all of 2020. What the hell?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Such a strange mix of good and bad news. We were lucky, yet are so aware that many were destroyed by the Pandemic. It would be offensive to celebrate. We are powerless to change the pandemic and how the powers that be handle it. We can control how we treat those we see and this event has provided an opportunity to be the best we can be. We could all have done better.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">For all the good and bad that we had in 2020, I am ready to move on and welcome 2021. Let's learn our lessons and move forward.</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-90709540387931626022020-10-27T20:28:00.001-07:002020-10-27T20:29:55.324-07:00A winter's ride<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJi1BdYysYHr4yLC2zWEU13G01wNt0z2AByadbFN7qoErFBZRzjO9vsOyraJ6DJzE7jd_Zm1w1aAEhcA2YEZ66SDwjbEuM8GAq0osTvogP8G4IWUI2lO2QuvN8swkIeaslz1iGvQEYJmGS/s2048/IMG_9109.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJi1BdYysYHr4yLC2zWEU13G01wNt0z2AByadbFN7qoErFBZRzjO9vsOyraJ6DJzE7jd_Zm1w1aAEhcA2YEZ66SDwjbEuM8GAq0osTvogP8G4IWUI2lO2QuvN8swkIeaslz1iGvQEYJmGS/w591-h444/IMG_9109.HEIC" width="591" /></span></a></div><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;">A winter ride, muted colors under grey skies</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;">Gratitude for dry pave, I get to ride today</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;">A narrow ribbon of road cuts through the white snow</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;">Fallen leaves silent, buried below winter’s blanket</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;">The cold bites, my tempo responds in kind </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;">Measured effort failed, I push now for warmth</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;">Legs and feet long past feeling, spinning as trained</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;">Rising from the saddle, the short day growing darker</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;">Food gone, bottles empty I turn for home</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;">Unclipping at my door I am safe from the cold</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;">Years of dedication, sacrificing for victory</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;">The journey is the victory now. Spent, I win</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffa400; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-34034152787802826212020-10-24T17:01:00.001-07:002020-10-24T18:27:59.250-07:00Summer no more.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhBZ4VMLZQsEkf2B4Mq5IM7OwoHa86w4mM2AgTNOvIFXPcp2nEtb6EyWIy3pOElL8i9cWQLU-3RS1jWuK33gnc-rix6gnxtEq1yrYMSQ46-l0B-jtNzqcEcHOiubLlfgO1GxZJGHre4Bz/s2048/2F8BD260-B17A-464D-8364-E78B51078A09.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="684" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhBZ4VMLZQsEkf2B4Mq5IM7OwoHa86w4mM2AgTNOvIFXPcp2nEtb6EyWIy3pOElL8i9cWQLU-3RS1jWuK33gnc-rix6gnxtEq1yrYMSQ46-l0B-jtNzqcEcHOiubLlfgO1GxZJGHre4Bz/w674-h684/2F8BD260-B17A-464D-8364-E78B51078A09.heic" width="674" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm from Florida. What is this cold, white stuff?<br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On Thursday it looked like this:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQl4MvLOSVDSet0YW_M6TBeM7iZPqhJAk0zj_Em9xiOxRozgkphL7BrKWlOdr-dxJs5PJTN8j3A6OQzfRFtDm1nQmQ_DvfPPORmKkC30w9lgsHUZyfs2jTaL45FGFoK9coERH20QSjRdbU/s2048/83617AF3-2A47-40DC-88D5-5A7DD14F1BF8.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQl4MvLOSVDSet0YW_M6TBeM7iZPqhJAk0zj_Em9xiOxRozgkphL7BrKWlOdr-dxJs5PJTN8j3A6OQzfRFtDm1nQmQ_DvfPPORmKkC30w9lgsHUZyfs2jTaL45FGFoK9coERH20QSjRdbU/w572-h429/83617AF3-2A47-40DC-88D5-5A7DD14F1BF8.heic" width="572" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'd call it an Indian Summer, but perhaps that phrase is now racist or I'm a day or two behind the political whirlwind of woke correctness and I should stick with just saying fall. Anyway this is what late October looks like most of the time.....</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was predicted to happen Friday, and it did:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhyQfSBAy3TkP0ApOX-TLxC9Y2E5ZsD2e2bBvIJdY1-PJmb5CUKDOuz3J6SnGCIoDrgQH-W2Vp9BOlPaIF60krqtPfABAqyLMkdRSH_wgrvTYZV85kQ2tyEBu_jVCrHRw2wQihfRAlusn/s2048/82B587FF-A55E-403F-AFCF-7711ECBFD3FE.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhyQfSBAy3TkP0ApOX-TLxC9Y2E5ZsD2e2bBvIJdY1-PJmb5CUKDOuz3J6SnGCIoDrgQH-W2Vp9BOlPaIF60krqtPfABAqyLMkdRSH_wgrvTYZV85kQ2tyEBu_jVCrHRw2wQihfRAlusn/s320/82B587FF-A55E-403F-AFCF-7711ECBFD3FE.jpeg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9RXR0XlBdpA766XCWU_9yv4IPNBA61QujdVTWREUc559PsAji2cjx82T6a3yUr1L8uuh91xhCcGKS5aYkok1IdXZxyCa01DA3jh0xyWlrmOqXdzt03IwblA9q72MbGvemeZjp9LoL8MMS/s2048/7B14FFCD-558E-44CE-8274-E141C566315E.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9RXR0XlBdpA766XCWU_9yv4IPNBA61QujdVTWREUc559PsAji2cjx82T6a3yUr1L8uuh91xhCcGKS5aYkok1IdXZxyCa01DA3jh0xyWlrmOqXdzt03IwblA9q72MbGvemeZjp9LoL8MMS/s320/7B14FFCD-558E-44CE-8274-E141C566315E.heic" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It took Kona a while to step onto the mysterious substance, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">but it proved to be an adequate running surface.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpuoNrs6r8hPg4fbUeFQPiH5aYZMn-lzfOAKlB6FSvVmp-Mg1UVGGABfVNvUPm4auMc7RnjqBdY3A8G2qq3R8buGCx1tW4teREILM3dFsvr3uQD1SEmrSjjnTPaEctdLvLao8QxkWr7ose/s2048/85E1C219-A4C2-4072-9281-D1F430292F2C.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpuoNrs6r8hPg4fbUeFQPiH5aYZMn-lzfOAKlB6FSvVmp-Mg1UVGGABfVNvUPm4auMc7RnjqBdY3A8G2qq3R8buGCx1tW4teREILM3dFsvr3uQD1SEmrSjjnTPaEctdLvLao8QxkWr7ose/s320/85E1C219-A4C2-4072-9281-D1F430292F2C.heic" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8i1cexRchie2hceekpTIO9Ol470OHcSC0gXdaBZ6prxPhOvErvzLHL4iM8HEjkHJEIvWROaprnkKJwHbq4custMnELwbMhoeqMWPbn3bQVKLWLXP3OZottiS2VReKRgeGP0CpgVUEDL5/s2048/F4F3320B-8A37-42B9-AFA2-1C10F1747840.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8i1cexRchie2hceekpTIO9Ol470OHcSC0gXdaBZ6prxPhOvErvzLHL4iM8HEjkHJEIvWROaprnkKJwHbq4custMnELwbMhoeqMWPbn3bQVKLWLXP3OZottiS2VReKRgeGP0CpgVUEDL5/s320/F4F3320B-8A37-42B9-AFA2-1C10F1747840.heic" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">We are all adapting to a new season.</span></div></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-75897950848272272662020-09-13T10:22:00.002-07:002020-09-13T10:22:31.221-07:00Happy Apocalypse<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8Kz5E9czWgSaT8XXuk7-lChJuHCFiKsr99bXzGvs7gp-cNt0-dSgxWG56Ppzm17GCLGWgphvEiMs2aFCjwH7_nkCT4A0sdFZ_mPEF_iNEQ5f5MyKU2NWsLQP8NaEvBkapsFTI_iXLNsU/s2048/699B807E-30AE-4A7B-9B68-081F9E6AA923.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8Kz5E9czWgSaT8XXuk7-lChJuHCFiKsr99bXzGvs7gp-cNt0-dSgxWG56Ppzm17GCLGWgphvEiMs2aFCjwH7_nkCT4A0sdFZ_mPEF_iNEQ5f5MyKU2NWsLQP8NaEvBkapsFTI_iXLNsU/w625-h469/699B807E-30AE-4A7B-9B68-081F9E6AA923.heic" width="625" /></span></a></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> It smells kinda like camping, kinda like death......</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">With the fires we've been dealing with some unhealthy air quality. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXSSbrnlSdHbvwZFiyFMidsFWRA21IvcYqocLwYskC4Ncbnsm9XfbqW3iOERYdNkYA8EjxQFbzA3y3oiq03BdxEFWojrLYMGtte9mOYwC3VBwwkrdW6cMelnd3GbKZTs86kOywJsQiqU4/s1182/46C5B94D-89C7-452F-A3F2-C0DA33ED7487_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1182" data-original-width="1125" height="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXSSbrnlSdHbvwZFiyFMidsFWRA21IvcYqocLwYskC4Ncbnsm9XfbqW3iOERYdNkYA8EjxQFbzA3y3oiq03BdxEFWojrLYMGtte9mOYwC3VBwwkrdW6cMelnd3GbKZTs86kOywJsQiqU4/w595-h625/46C5B94D-89C7-452F-A3F2-C0DA33ED7487_1_201_a.jpeg" width="595" /></span></a></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">When I say unhealthy, it isn't an uninformed opinion....</span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">It reminds me of being sick as a kid and staying home from school. You just kind of wander around inside and as the afternoon stretches into dinnertime, you just feel sluggish from the lack of activity and lung tightness. Everyone is restless and maybe even a bit cranky. Covid has taken the excitement out of staying at home for everyone. This is just the icing on the cake. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBi4LYvixZF3bmifkfHWcBr-qk4637rE8Q74Cx0Y17cceToAlEliBRDAhLO6SQp98Tq8pRwjkt2YWXZWCKUHP2-YxOXmExTLgH36Ya52uQd5REYm15c_MRw4FAqQG1t_opW6bce8pxMuj/s2048/E7ECD525-3737-4FCB-A372-0F166D4F78AF_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1128" data-original-width="2048" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBi4LYvixZF3bmifkfHWcBr-qk4637rE8Q74Cx0Y17cceToAlEliBRDAhLO6SQp98Tq8pRwjkt2YWXZWCKUHP2-YxOXmExTLgH36Ya52uQd5REYm15c_MRw4FAqQG1t_opW6bce8pxMuj/w625-h344/E7ECD525-3737-4FCB-A372-0F166D4F78AF_1_201_a.jpeg" width="625" /></span></a></div><span style="background-color: black; font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: white;"> Outside it looks foggy, except the fog is yellow. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="color: white; font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: black;">Taking Kona for a short walk, the streets are deserted, adding to the Twilight Zone atmosphere. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: white; font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: black;">Make it end. Please, make it end..... </span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-58185483522757535792020-09-11T14:18:00.000-07:002020-09-11T14:18:02.676-07:00 Angel’s Staircase Adventure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg789NrVh7APradOJH2mqVCv5uj3f8lB4IldVboViKrKTjtBMIZGKXZg0UscI_TW_jBCEl6YKFTIQVRZt-nEQzLd7ONltiOxtMfOvrG7fpzEQGUeD-ocCvPgFvcPHg7AnoD9Cl1zNZ8cVeU/s2048/B41FB2ED-EF23-4ECC-A031-B68C69DF2AC2.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="781" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg789NrVh7APradOJH2mqVCv5uj3f8lB4IldVboViKrKTjtBMIZGKXZg0UscI_TW_jBCEl6YKFTIQVRZt-nEQzLd7ONltiOxtMfOvrG7fpzEQGUeD-ocCvPgFvcPHg7AnoD9Cl1zNZ8cVeU/w586-h781/B41FB2ED-EF23-4ECC-A031-B68C69DF2AC2.heic" width="586" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">2020 has become a year of bucket list accomplishments. A month ago my son Tim and I finished off our John Muir Trail odyssey. This past Sunday KB and I set off on the Angel’s Staircase Loop. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">The adventure really started when I took my bike out to add some sealant to the tires a few days before (just to be safe) and I noticed the back wheel felt wonky. It turns out I had a broken suspension pivot axle. I took it to the great folks at Methow Cycle & Sport and they told me that they would have to order a part and the bike would not be ready until after my planned ride.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">I contemplated renting a bike, but opted instead to give it a try on my fat bike. I took it out for a short test ride and made a few minor adjustments (saddle height, brake lever angle) and deemed it ready to go. I figured there was going to be a bit of hike a bike so the day would be an adventure anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMK2A7Geb3mOU88peLdE_Mpx1-g4sOSFDtZuD6MqL42Pl47SxUGE-SV3JkfI78o9nSHg0qbCJ3ZxrMzywsPVst_poqvfx3dvF5JKqks2Oj0Ng4HHolMSnNDt6MICVcIeiyLiB848ukgLC/s2048/55EFE003-3E79-4028-B49D-2C199E2D1186.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMK2A7Geb3mOU88peLdE_Mpx1-g4sOSFDtZuD6MqL42Pl47SxUGE-SV3JkfI78o9nSHg0qbCJ3ZxrMzywsPVst_poqvfx3dvF5JKqks2Oj0Ng4HHolMSnNDt6MICVcIeiyLiB848ukgLC/w625-h469/55EFE003-3E79-4028-B49D-2C199E2D1186.jpeg" width="625" /></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">When KB suggested we set off from my place at 5:30 AM I flinched, but agreed. Starting early would get us riding before it got too hot and running out of daylight was a problem neither of us dared say out loud, but it was a possibility we wanted to avoid.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkn0sGtWWnTYTsQ5UN352Q4WLNb8Vf1NpubjwYGHcBwTZnWHT63iRIwRS2BqbbwZgvm5Z8qhCu7ftVQRgwsFdPzeLNXynhKsG0kW2tx_rvATIrUYvOUT3V6I-uM6k_NlT5QbiSIzM_kvUj/s2048/1FCB803C-021F-4C36-A368-A866429E61B6.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkn0sGtWWnTYTsQ5UN352Q4WLNb8Vf1NpubjwYGHcBwTZnWHT63iRIwRS2BqbbwZgvm5Z8qhCu7ftVQRgwsFdPzeLNXynhKsG0kW2tx_rvATIrUYvOUT3V6I-uM6k_NlT5QbiSIzM_kvUj/w625-h469/1FCB803C-021F-4C36-A368-A866429E61B6.heic" width="625" /></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">We arrived at the trailhead in time to dress, drink up and get rolling before 7:00. The assortment of bikes on racks and campers told us we were in the right spot. Soon we were out of the parking lot and climbing a dusty trail in thick forest.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_l5oLxZcKyCt-LCeH9ZRYY3bACRvpx5pySJ9GDxm_pyn8QE8NHxLnONig4MshirJNv5rABW0hzcaVJIaColYZG-v91JgO6y5Ben2wXHG4XfyaMUVCFrsp7kpKUDxggk6HsOG_hgfoaJ2h/s2048/A54330C2-6332-4B36-B630-0B8B308A1C82.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="781" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_l5oLxZcKyCt-LCeH9ZRYY3bACRvpx5pySJ9GDxm_pyn8QE8NHxLnONig4MshirJNv5rABW0hzcaVJIaColYZG-v91JgO6y5Ben2wXHG4XfyaMUVCFrsp7kpKUDxggk6HsOG_hgfoaJ2h/w586-h781/A54330C2-6332-4B36-B630-0B8B308A1C82.heic" width="586" /></a></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">We were leapfrogging two other groups of three riders as we climbed and climbed. At each trail junction they would stop and wait for their friends and we would confirm our direction and putter on. The fat bike was doing very well soaking up the bumps and lumps of tree roots and rocks.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"></span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMG1EMAndX6uaRtMMTt11kH_MP281quO5gKuP08l40epM2yVBwLYSFS50GJssfhPpbt2L6HMvQ2fJyCjbHySCXv767pOEQTHZKCi9En0hXst4Xee1WpKZSGMnm-U8KH5RdBhyphenhyphensKGA3qsz/s2048/83764089-8E51-4A72-A3EB-D53019493620.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="781" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMG1EMAndX6uaRtMMTt11kH_MP281quO5gKuP08l40epM2yVBwLYSFS50GJssfhPpbt2L6HMvQ2fJyCjbHySCXv767pOEQTHZKCi9En0hXst4Xee1WpKZSGMnm-U8KH5RdBhyphenhyphensKGA3qsz/w586-h781/83764089-8E51-4A72-A3EB-D53019493620.heic" width="586" /></a></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">Although the fat bike is rigid, it does have a dropper post and more than one rider commented that given the choice of suspension, or a dropper, they would choose the dropper.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">These trails are shared by hikers and bikers so we kept an eye open and at times the hikers envied us and at times they offered us pity. “I’m glad I get to hike up this steep trail,” was something we heard more than once.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0hWZwjYrAwxwb9PCH_THxccY_V95ipRpM5AfRW_IwRshIT9fOk_JNixlSEZvSLAV60RMWFtfTpeV8OjylBb10xXo02u1LgEfJAAJ26ZmUskUBwHZoMl1xyQrPyE-mhwvdmr-HicRuS6uU/s2048/AB63E4EA-1104-4159-B9AA-BA467658F4E3.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0hWZwjYrAwxwb9PCH_THxccY_V95ipRpM5AfRW_IwRshIT9fOk_JNixlSEZvSLAV60RMWFtfTpeV8OjylBb10xXo02u1LgEfJAAJ26ZmUskUBwHZoMl1xyQrPyE-mhwvdmr-HicRuS6uU/w625-h469/AB63E4EA-1104-4159-B9AA-BA467658F4E3.heic" width="625" /></a></span></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> Above Cooney Lake. Look carefully and you can see some sad souls...</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">When we passed Cooney lake the trail shot up a comical climb that made me wonder if we were off the trail. The grade necessitated us pushing and then carrying our bikes before returning to ridable trail. Then after what seemed like a three-minute uphill ride the trail shot up becoming what a ride veteran referred to as “the <o:p></o:p></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">wall.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9XvOX2SbTq2cHtzFqy9-AXTbPgfD2CkEHyGSny_4Quo_dKcshhNy4O0oqwC527uEyMaGLSzAkYLB3TEjVVoHwLObJs4bV08uSmRSUtDEInuS15irc5stthQl4BVpay9Xz20jdYFREMyM/s2048/6E2CC488-CD2A-4131-BF59-15015DD52D52.heic" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: black; font-family: verdana; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9XvOX2SbTq2cHtzFqy9-AXTbPgfD2CkEHyGSny_4Quo_dKcshhNy4O0oqwC527uEyMaGLSzAkYLB3TEjVVoHwLObJs4bV08uSmRSUtDEInuS15irc5stthQl4BVpay9Xz20jdYFREMyM/w625-h469/6E2CC488-CD2A-4131-BF59-15015DD52D52.heic" width="625" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">Nobody rides the “wall” section up or down, and we and others alternated between pushing, pulling, carrying, cajoling and cursing our bikes. The trail was like trying to climb a mountain of loose marbles. You would push your bike uphill, grab the brakes and pull yourself up even with the bike and repeat. Some carried their bikes on their shoulders with their steps sliding backward like they were climbing up a down escalator. Everyone was glad to be here but nobody was smiling. I told KB that as a hiker I found this part of the trail horrible and as a biker I thought it was more of a dare.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">Although this section wasn’t that long, it took longer than it should have and knowing we had several more hours after this, we did not want to kill ourselves. When we reached the top others were seated on rocks next to their bikes recovering.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEohUyU3mLGAPf4z_CooCyFO_I7CvMAOdusnOaPdHT_X8lfroa1POJaDQVpA7JQdGVShLzRXNymHCMdhpt6vAfl2PsGvzQynsvLLFxDzWw4mQB_xQgWCeM1XopuFbbSmD_FvmAvk-BU8q/s2048/6BBA8810-D8F8-4EBF-8F6F-9726B36481BD_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEohUyU3mLGAPf4z_CooCyFO_I7CvMAOdusnOaPdHT_X8lfroa1POJaDQVpA7JQdGVShLzRXNymHCMdhpt6vAfl2PsGvzQynsvLLFxDzWw4mQB_xQgWCeM1XopuFbbSmD_FvmAvk-BU8q/w625-h469/6BBA8810-D8F8-4EBF-8F6F-9726B36481BD_1_201_a.jpeg" width="625" /></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">We could see Rainier to the south</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"></span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6yG4l39Wwok6R8hu0cb7jNBV0lcn5hgWnyNMRiuLsgpbwH0F4iSIGFegjm1o0tbIf9_5z1E79D2IfY7HvDf5qQR5j9DA7len7rYKo6h7X0EAHLStQ_CxPgVBSB2mkoCoFOhWGq8w9PzR/s2048/3EE10729-6598-4ED3-9F27-50D39E817B54_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6yG4l39Wwok6R8hu0cb7jNBV0lcn5hgWnyNMRiuLsgpbwH0F4iSIGFegjm1o0tbIf9_5z1E79D2IfY7HvDf5qQR5j9DA7len7rYKo6h7X0EAHLStQ_CxPgVBSB2mkoCoFOhWGq8w9PzR/w625-h469/3EE10729-6598-4ED3-9F27-50D39E817B54_1_201_a.jpeg" width="625" /></a></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">We snapped some picture and ate and drank.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"></span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOSsp73LqwY3P9mtRIwlABAojiRTfOzCOz0sBkOHITDws8LU8sPavZVCZ6lYwsXSq7lxowKP8CAnFCC-g4G3loHcwymdPrvaKcbVnKglruGyNVCTyxq18gPwXq6fQtthMjshED2dI7nWB/s2048/069A2512-FDD9-4124-8F4A-7FD52EA113CB_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1987" data-original-width="2048" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOSsp73LqwY3P9mtRIwlABAojiRTfOzCOz0sBkOHITDws8LU8sPavZVCZ6lYwsXSq7lxowKP8CAnFCC-g4G3loHcwymdPrvaKcbVnKglruGyNVCTyxq18gPwXq6fQtthMjshED2dI7nWB/w625-h606/069A2512-FDD9-4124-8F4A-7FD52EA113CB_1_201_a.jpeg" width="625" /></a></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">After a brief traverse we had a bit more climbing and then we were at the high point of the ride at over 8,000 feet.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"></span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj298Q_duFV35jZ1gtXKBzyzLWKHQNJNP3k7jyyDGlwUa6YWZ98MVizThXXNMjUoHnYbJP7KRnGZKRdcGxGv9c9-nrrs-ZRgj4rKQcz2IS9DQ3zdeREaGfw0h5-Oy4D6EThoF93DU9IzfGY/s2048/1436D980-EC0E-453A-8C1C-B008F7E87599.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj298Q_duFV35jZ1gtXKBzyzLWKHQNJNP3k7jyyDGlwUa6YWZ98MVizThXXNMjUoHnYbJP7KRnGZKRdcGxGv9c9-nrrs-ZRgj4rKQcz2IS9DQ3zdeREaGfw0h5-Oy4D6EThoF93DU9IzfGY/w625-h469/1436D980-EC0E-453A-8C1C-B008F7E87599.heic" width="625" /></a></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">We dropped down the Angel’s Staircase and all I can say is that I guess not all angels are good angels. The trail was a series of switchbacks where we dismounting at each corner. The loose, lumpy, steep drop corners just invited a crash and that was not on our agenda. Showing more wisdom that expected we aligned our risk aversion to our age and talked about how smart we were.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"></span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxnmdeakuZ-i1DrbOxRVSDJTIktd5F2ma0B6FqQmDRRcJDE9HxLwwj3VEPTUDmwEL5ZBdjnSS6bANBRvegh3_jvdLjNpqC5zaM2ZB-gZN3dGd2fuS0y2CUwJ8g2dStwOshNKZijJVFHz8/s2048/9F35A0F9-33F7-498F-AC46-33D9F808E0BD.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxnmdeakuZ-i1DrbOxRVSDJTIktd5F2ma0B6FqQmDRRcJDE9HxLwwj3VEPTUDmwEL5ZBdjnSS6bANBRvegh3_jvdLjNpqC5zaM2ZB-gZN3dGd2fuS0y2CUwJ8g2dStwOshNKZijJVFHz8/w625-h469/9F35A0F9-33F7-498F-AC46-33D9F808E0BD.heic" width="625" /></a></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">Soon the trail was traversing alpine meadows that were golden under the late summer sun. We stopped at a stream and filtered water to restock our supply. The water was cold and felt like heaven on our parched throats.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF_FWz6WH-47rfKkvxyWMZF3m9u_L5hj2a6PQScom7Jq3eU85FTVSBjxl3FMJqQgXroqH4GlUmR2Kd86TvBByexLGZJunuTI5t51-hHqk8BGAyK-sFdU9JN7LZlDbN50K5TFJbOLIjcqEC/s2048/3A06B32E-1412-44F1-AF33-02DD483AD6D5.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF_FWz6WH-47rfKkvxyWMZF3m9u_L5hj2a6PQScom7Jq3eU85FTVSBjxl3FMJqQgXroqH4GlUmR2Kd86TvBByexLGZJunuTI5t51-hHqk8BGAyK-sFdU9JN7LZlDbN50K5TFJbOLIjcqEC/w625-h469/3A06B32E-1412-44F1-AF33-02DD483AD6D5.heic" width="625" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Looking SE</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv4rgFiVOMFZGzViZVqJIJhInE_CrPPSrQJJik5mHfmDrEFBgtNIv2FYuQbpGWTIesRY7ueuqHQZuoS16WT8Ox57NCfi_pdfcmoqQrP8W_XffA3xstJsWGlZiZwMDnhi6ctW6VCzUsTINn/s2048/7EF6C130-386B-4E09-8A2F-F61D485AA476.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv4rgFiVOMFZGzViZVqJIJhInE_CrPPSrQJJik5mHfmDrEFBgtNIv2FYuQbpGWTIesRY7ueuqHQZuoS16WT8Ox57NCfi_pdfcmoqQrP8W_XffA3xstJsWGlZiZwMDnhi6ctW6VCzUsTINn/w625-h469/7EF6C130-386B-4E09-8A2F-F61D485AA476.heic" width="625" /></a></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> Looking NW</span><div><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">After some moderate climbing we reached Boiling Lake and paused to enjoy the mountain scenery. We began the hot, steep, exposed climb up to Horsehead Pass. </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mbrUeGdMnuDtCF1o0b5zVVyHxfSkPbMNWzLRqi8BIIzKwT_MwLIbOihzlneuLSpL3Ew8RLTiy7LRP8JshJZzyJWPP2UjCIUf86MpqwvLsq-3yMHzFlEBOuKCUFwt7LetDOceI9ohOIDV/s2048/E171A4C9-F2FF-4097-A10A-C45D24BCE995.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mbrUeGdMnuDtCF1o0b5zVVyHxfSkPbMNWzLRqi8BIIzKwT_MwLIbOihzlneuLSpL3Ew8RLTiy7LRP8JshJZzyJWPP2UjCIUf86MpqwvLsq-3yMHzFlEBOuKCUFwt7LetDOceI9ohOIDV/w625-h469/E171A4C9-F2FF-4097-A10A-C45D24BCE995.heic" width="625" /></a></span></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> About to go down here<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieAYcbW_ZkrIw6o6sU8AfrZXBqWeY3UmNFJPW4MvwhItCpXrqhllUGdV9DV4dZAmH-sr-U3uKqV0tjN39jZ-6cmGLZ_-Z_ozNyjF4fXZWtS33zuxj9-pd8jzs_Omia9VMAY6gj8u7bMF8K/s2048/8AABF92F-6818-471E-96B6-E96CD147D056.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieAYcbW_ZkrIw6o6sU8AfrZXBqWeY3UmNFJPW4MvwhItCpXrqhllUGdV9DV4dZAmH-sr-U3uKqV0tjN39jZ-6cmGLZ_-Z_ozNyjF4fXZWtS33zuxj9-pd8jzs_Omia9VMAY6gj8u7bMF8K/w625-h469/8AABF92F-6818-471E-96B6-E96CD147D056.heic" width="625" /></a></div> Just came up from here (see the trail?)</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">KB’s bike with water and gear strapped to it weighed a ton, and by a ton I mean pretty close to fifty pounds. Thirty-five pounds of bike plus seven pounds of water and a more than a few pounds of extra clothing, tools, tubes and first aid gear. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">The switchbacks just kept going and we paused a few times to drink and take in calories. This was a full day and we were glad to have started as early as we did. People had been encouraging to us as we were both on rigid bikes and the novelty </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">struck some as adventurous.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGW9r0wnzUO4mOHWrI9CzW0dQg41OXOM9OpkQ8p7RukgxJVZ81BNS_2QLz8SASA9Lg_d-0fRnSFJX7-w8xsT5iSG3FN6dURcM9NdSvfJaPf38gNTtiv5M-EInopfGJDT3ZRA3KOzu26e8/s2048/EA3EE7F1-5981-4584-8F0F-47F653E21780.heic" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: verdana; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="781" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGW9r0wnzUO4mOHWrI9CzW0dQg41OXOM9OpkQ8p7RukgxJVZ81BNS_2QLz8SASA9Lg_d-0fRnSFJX7-w8xsT5iSG3FN6dURcM9NdSvfJaPf38gNTtiv5M-EInopfGJDT3ZRA3KOzu26e8/w586-h781/EA3EE7F1-5981-4584-8F0F-47F653E21780.heic" width="586" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> Spring, summer and fall were all in the last month at this elevation</span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">When we reached the top we had the place to ourselves. It was a narrow ridge and we took our time refueling and taking in the view below us. An observer might wonder if we were tired, or casual about not rushing to get going. It was a pleasant combination of savoring the time and gathering ourselves mentally for a long technical descent that would require a Zen-like focus.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">When we were ready, we dusted ourselves off and set off down the trail. It was the now familiar “cliff on one side, mountain on the other” that we had been riding most of the day.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQz4JIg98kC60OlJqs4BMJtTe2nhFu0rVIpVLqdVWCtKU0gRGXkmDCVD12Blp8G-iE6oO46-LypwulJYHgyB4M_5hHZbEerZCPgeromG34GMlXqJPIC6px2Lg7SrkN-ZcnEXquPdzm0UVR/s2048/7BD2215C-3A69-4AD2-84B3-91BFE34B840A.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="781" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQz4JIg98kC60OlJqs4BMJtTe2nhFu0rVIpVLqdVWCtKU0gRGXkmDCVD12Blp8G-iE6oO46-LypwulJYHgyB4M_5hHZbEerZCPgeromG34GMlXqJPIC6px2Lg7SrkN-ZcnEXquPdzm0UVR/w586-h781/7BD2215C-3A69-4AD2-84B3-91BFE34B840A.heic" width="586" /></a></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> Yeah, and THIS was the shit we rode....</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">The trail started off rough, loose and exposed. Each kilometer it got less so and our speed increased the closer we got to the trailhead. We had over three thousand feet to descend and the trail got better and more flowy by the minute. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">We paused at one point on the way down and shared the observation that nine hours of riding and pushing/carrying a bike can make you tired. KB had blood on the back of his calf from multiple pedal encounters and a dirt moustache. I was likewise dirty and had some blood on me. I was glad our appearance matched the day’s effort.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_QusrwXicoZ95x21FFI9W6uvQidcmXRU_bVuaB0aLAjtvi0X2pPMnrUuLs7Ds6ke-JMumn61EC9g_qBztFyw44jBzMGVzqhf4SsVJdkwjlpguA-9_Ely_rpWeuCR-OHGHs_39_Cw-Yteu/s2048/E98CE5EF-AC44-46BD-85DE-54F9DD06E602.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="781" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_QusrwXicoZ95x21FFI9W6uvQidcmXRU_bVuaB0aLAjtvi0X2pPMnrUuLs7Ds6ke-JMumn61EC9g_qBztFyw44jBzMGVzqhf4SsVJdkwjlpguA-9_Ely_rpWeuCR-OHGHs_39_Cw-Yteu/w586-h781/E98CE5EF-AC44-46BD-85DE-54F9DD06E602.heic" width="586" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> The dirty smile</span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">When we arrived at the parking lot we felt like we had experienced the full meal deal that is the Angel’s Staircase Loop. KB commented that if we did this ride every day for a couple weeks we would get in really good shape. I just let that hang in the air as I opened the cooler and fished out a bottle of cold water.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJEUVVN6W4h-qUyGc3UXkNb6041TFRcZOrjdKGjxos9mPBwaR4FtL9O2QRtX-s1qICaInMVhRvLu9ryH07lLDwbYKuA75JkQyk4O_ziV3LmpC47K4GyKp2sIu0K3JHbmu7Yul8DJAqZKkI/s2048/D453304F-B281-4775-9D51-2DEEC8469FD0.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJEUVVN6W4h-qUyGc3UXkNb6041TFRcZOrjdKGjxos9mPBwaR4FtL9O2QRtX-s1qICaInMVhRvLu9ryH07lLDwbYKuA75JkQyk4O_ziV3LmpC47K4GyKp2sIu0K3JHbmu7Yul8DJAqZKkI/w625-h469/D453304F-B281-4775-9D51-2DEEC8469FD0.heic" width="625" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> Don't think for a moment that we don't know how lucky we are....</span></o:p></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5783638885257014054.post-68696192008900211572020-08-19T12:32:00.000-07:002020-08-19T12:32:27.318-07:00 The John Muir Trail – Still crazy after all these years<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghdBL3YpSlhH7nEvtiQHV81aCyyQbKZFRwdLGoW3sZ8nfaEjGHfohzX4vfcCgMp_mIJC54LLna4tCbo-lW6xflWkoWRbBQL-EG9i39os_SMXvlyuyPjmXzavjzNpuarG8gjBjH2vlbJovG/s2048/84E147CC-B1C1-4B47-9552-B63CBF52C8AE.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghdBL3YpSlhH7nEvtiQHV81aCyyQbKZFRwdLGoW3sZ8nfaEjGHfohzX4vfcCgMp_mIJC54LLna4tCbo-lW6xflWkoWRbBQL-EG9i39os_SMXvlyuyPjmXzavjzNpuarG8gjBjH2vlbJovG/w800-h600/84E147CC-B1C1-4B47-9552-B63CBF52C8AE.heic" width="800" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">My son and I completed our quest to complete the JMT. At one point on our trip I informed Tim he had hiked every inch of the trail. At about nine in the morning of our last day we had completed the entire trail together. It had taken eighteen years to do so, but that just make it that much sweeter.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">I never found the bridge I was searching for. I was alert and would have known if we had crossed it. My current guess is that is on the climb to Dusy basin. I may never validate that, but I am content that I indeed did find what I was really searching for. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">The drive from Los Angeles was like dusting off an old photo album. There were a lot of memories, a few surprises and more than one blank stare. This was a drive I had made dozens and dozens of times in my youth yet it was mostly unfamiliar. My nostalgic memories greatly exceeded the reality. It was dryer and more desolate than I recalled. It was the kind of place where if your car broke down you would consider curling up in a ball and just waiting to die.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">We passed a few trailers and deserted buildings. Climate change has made some of these places a living hell.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">I wanted to bridge my past recollections with my current life. The silver granite and deep blue sky above the tree line still take my breath away. There are more people, but there is still plenty of trail and plenty of wilderness such that it would be wrong to call it crowded. Compared to thirty or forty years ago it is crowded. If you compared how it was forty years ago to how it was forty years before that, you would come to the same conclusion. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReHSUUj89biDrSVRdMAb4EY_xhyphenhyphenOxjOlYp4WrcBJnlqpn-_WWBtGdQ9kk_r86NhSUKVgCguwyFrhwvsR6KlKYtI3RJDBZOX2EBpd1kMkFtbCkBeaIwMiUG7c8jou-7wUynmsIF8GJ8wSW/s2048/82EF7C41-0E3A-426D-9788-0C76EDE77CBF.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReHSUUj89biDrSVRdMAb4EY_xhyphenhyphenOxjOlYp4WrcBJnlqpn-_WWBtGdQ9kk_r86NhSUKVgCguwyFrhwvsR6KlKYtI3RJDBZOX2EBpd1kMkFtbCkBeaIwMiUG7c8jou-7wUynmsIF8GJ8wSW/w750-h1000/82EF7C41-0E3A-426D-9788-0C76EDE77CBF.heic" width="750" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">It appears the age demographic is also changed. Back in the day, everyone was under thirty and today there were plenty of AARP candidates. It would seem that starting with my generation, everyone who wanted to continue has done so. We saw hikers in their thirties, forties, fifties and dare I say, sixties on the trail. I’m not saying they were all moving fast, but they were moving. If there is one thing I have learned as an aging athlete, it is that slow and steady wins in the long run. One other things I’ve learned is that “The long run” is all that matters.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwjM-EUY7r9GozY8yQLsAPnXeN4NqWo4P8oIYH4hyphenhyphen3tYlplttvLFHZ2dJlsWfIefOxHU3b_VjH4mxwqG58h0GidOfblsopwEcXIsWmj8Z6xZvBsgyXqvbT6tbAIrhkaMXo8jmOw0CF50u/s2048/B163EA69-95E9-4793-AC9D-777E381F3559.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwjM-EUY7r9GozY8yQLsAPnXeN4NqWo4P8oIYH4hyphenhyphen3tYlplttvLFHZ2dJlsWfIefOxHU3b_VjH4mxwqG58h0GidOfblsopwEcXIsWmj8Z6xZvBsgyXqvbT6tbAIrhkaMXo8jmOw0CF50u/w800-h600/B163EA69-95E9-4793-AC9D-777E381F3559.heic" width="800" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">It took us a few days to adapt to the elevation, but adapt we did. It just got easier and we got faster. This coincided with our packs getting lighter as we ate our food and burned our fuel so our day to day improvement was noticeable.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMpvGG2tbHgP91kpKmf6k-KG79RZg5LAbNLFKX16ny19PeJl5IFhCH3mymz_BTFO91VjYCjjOXUjLaeTpY6WFWWCFVPm4GnxG_IKdKpVOHsDCAguI5ulDRWbYbh7hdn0HoswP9f1YXtgF/s2048/CE8F0CE8-84FC-47D7-A0CB-C49F7098DF6A.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMpvGG2tbHgP91kpKmf6k-KG79RZg5LAbNLFKX16ny19PeJl5IFhCH3mymz_BTFO91VjYCjjOXUjLaeTpY6WFWWCFVPm4GnxG_IKdKpVOHsDCAguI5ulDRWbYbh7hdn0HoswP9f1YXtgF/w800-h600/CE8F0CE8-84FC-47D7-A0CB-C49F7098DF6A.heic" width="800" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">After Tim declared Mather his favorite pass, I thought about it for a while and decided it was also my favorite. Mather pass is at least three days from anywhere, so if you are there, you’re on a serious adventure.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjECvO5AsV95bw6_qP9YIvyg2YFFLHgHrlEgj5rcWL3hTbrrDg-AoSFQq3NyT7NcliaBbAmmiVtsPVl5Zf-rjdQf8qEm4QsWsuutulvtG0NggzUS7KiwjMIkiI9Rty38Qr_INDmWpU6R5GB/s2048/B686CAD4-C7FA-4A52-BE4E-853263A5ACEF.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjECvO5AsV95bw6_qP9YIvyg2YFFLHgHrlEgj5rcWL3hTbrrDg-AoSFQq3NyT7NcliaBbAmmiVtsPVl5Zf-rjdQf8qEm4QsWsuutulvtG0NggzUS7KiwjMIkiI9Rty38Qr_INDmWpU6R5GB/w800-h600/B686CAD4-C7FA-4A52-BE4E-853263A5ACEF.heic" width="800" /></a></span></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_b1fHYhPn9u32eWjYDJOEhlJQvW-VcPSPsgrH8k6KYggSFxTRHSVrjl0VNjBYC4kQUoCR_fiFBs7fE2yH1YbKXTehC1Qv-VN8Bil7pHg-UpA5po2rUuyV9D3owl3CyIM9aY5xeJjNAKQR/s2048/BA3492F9-6187-4F40-B4C7-85D98966B404.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_b1fHYhPn9u32eWjYDJOEhlJQvW-VcPSPsgrH8k6KYggSFxTRHSVrjl0VNjBYC4kQUoCR_fiFBs7fE2yH1YbKXTehC1Qv-VN8Bil7pHg-UpA5po2rUuyV9D3owl3CyIM9aY5xeJjNAKQR/s640/BA3492F9-6187-4F40-B4C7-85D98966B404.heic" width="640" /></a></div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">Birthday cake at 10,650'</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">Our route started at North Lake and went over Piute Pass into Humphrey’s Basin and then down a long and winding trail to Kings Canyon National Park. Up to Evolution Valley which was less crowded than I recalled. From there we went up and over Muir Pass and down to LeConte Canyon. Then we climbed to Palisades Basin and Palisades Lakes via The Golden Staircase.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggEfysF6wq5b3Vh7fXw0UC8WqJoz66HrbDcOZ4zdfHyx5NYPRy_c1nj2XZDcXB_UV204hDBGBkcIDZ2PJXpgC7qkWYoCYEr2xTl29hT1Q8xTbdi2s6Np8GPzOYzBsADKOXLMoTSav-Oq7d/s2048/0EDA3DE6-0220-4788-AE35-5F4C5E878B69.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggEfysF6wq5b3Vh7fXw0UC8WqJoz66HrbDcOZ4zdfHyx5NYPRy_c1nj2XZDcXB_UV204hDBGBkcIDZ2PJXpgC7qkWYoCYEr2xTl29hT1Q8xTbdi2s6Np8GPzOYzBsADKOXLMoTSav-Oq7d/s640/0EDA3DE6-0220-4788-AE35-5F4C5E878B69.heic" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPiRXrzc8nHPjssGHFhXVYq0fPilu_-84kX5wiPvwiyJ4NyPz0ggs6QwPS3fq1Mg4aiowbiOPtQpFsioiceDnIbI-FAlW3_FBKKexFJqdGrClSNXJpe33Q2lSKuYh9CEkgKWw_EXdjxFu/s2048/A3B7A707-773B-44BB-8A67-CD3933CE1CAB_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1292" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPiRXrzc8nHPjssGHFhXVYq0fPilu_-84kX5wiPvwiyJ4NyPz0ggs6QwPS3fq1Mg4aiowbiOPtQpFsioiceDnIbI-FAlW3_FBKKexFJqdGrClSNXJpe33Q2lSKuYh9CEkgKWw_EXdjxFu/s640/A3B7A707-773B-44BB-8A67-CD3933CE1CAB_1_201_a.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0oG7zMCAmRQd1HOgRWpwpuKj5XW4rVWCqIVkTS7pRAU502f8FaWSEz3uHbARV_smbSnqRxgd5f5l6MUVWHDghlH-bKipXezn9baXz0HjyxFCRKJKHWfiQDTGqAHxrTPXcJ4mQTh626Ak/s2048/2D3568F5-F713-4677-A24C-D737A080FE0B.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0oG7zMCAmRQd1HOgRWpwpuKj5XW4rVWCqIVkTS7pRAU502f8FaWSEz3uHbARV_smbSnqRxgd5f5l6MUVWHDghlH-bKipXezn9baXz0HjyxFCRKJKHWfiQDTGqAHxrTPXcJ4mQTh626Ak/w800-h600/2D3568F5-F713-4677-A24C-D737A080FE0B.heic" width="800" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">From there we climbed Mather and then Pinchot pass in one long day before descending Woods Creek. Finally we climbed up to Rae Lakes and spent a relaxing, albeit crowded Friday afternoon. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9r5V4R2nCA7mljxyCNdLVU-oWy87JiKkwArCRF8myJ73dOwbfta4sZ_pjcv6ZcafJSAREO3DEm9CiYa9Vtnzv5sP0Qaw6dv9dkIBHYo3GTpsPFs5rRdJnFN2BKqiYNM1vDb0p5Ne_0ydq/s2048/5481DC46-F9DF-451F-A261-9FC8B8752070.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9r5V4R2nCA7mljxyCNdLVU-oWy87JiKkwArCRF8myJ73dOwbfta4sZ_pjcv6ZcafJSAREO3DEm9CiYa9Vtnzv5sP0Qaw6dv9dkIBHYo3GTpsPFs5rRdJnFN2BKqiYNM1vDb0p5Ne_0ydq/s640/5481DC46-F9DF-451F-A261-9FC8B8752070.heic" width="640" /></a></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 11pt; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: verdana;">Then we climbed Glen Pass and finally turned off the JMT and exited over Kearsarge Pass to Onion Valley. Over seven days of hiking we had a total of about ninety-eight miles and were quite ready for cheeseburgers.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
</script>
<script type="text/javascript">
_uacct = "UA-4180842-1";
urchinTracker();
</script></div>EvoDavohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08555519532037492421noreply@blogger.com0