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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
On Thursday it looked like this:
It was predicted to happen Friday, and it did:
With the fires we've been dealing with some unhealthy air quality.
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.
Taking Kona for a short walk, the streets are deserted, adding to the Twilight Zone atmosphere.
Make it end. Please, make it end.....
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.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.
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
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.
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.
We could see Rainier to the south
We snapped some picture and ate and drank.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 struck some as adventurous.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
We passed a few trailers and deserted buildings. Climate change has made some of these places a living hell.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Birthday cake at 10,650'
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.
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.
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.
