This was a great day to have friends.     Brett posting up to lead the trip and Scott helping him, Sam bringing all his gear (including his mad melon), and Beckie driving my still-drunk ass to the trailhead. Coffee, one-hit, powerful movement, half-gal of water, and a mild 2.5 mile walk in a sauna are a great hangover cure. Then a cold flush for the next 2 hours as we crept through the ~half-mile canyon filled with that last remnants of spring, then 2.5 miles back up into the furnace.

On the way down, my head and stomach prompted flashbacks to a brutally steep hot climb out of Waimea canyon in Hawaii. But once i was sober enough to speak socially, i found our group of 11 great company and was quickly distracted.   It seemed most of us knew about 4 others of us, so everyone was polite enough and confident enough to just have fun. Granite slides and silly stumbles got everyone smiling, and for the first time in a long long time i found myself giggling and bonding with other adults for no spoken reason.

Everything was slippery, in some manifestation but not always another, eventually leading to the barest dryest freeest-from-algae rock making me doubt my footing. It might be covered in a fine silt, my just-wet enough shoes might slide. Risk aversion was the far better course, each careless thud brought the promise of a purple welt discovered that night in the shower. Short-term, however, the cold water and a dozen swims of 5 to 30 yards worked the contusions out. The group needing to keep pace kept hesitation from grabbing too much hold. Blood, breathe and base were tapped smoothly. Focus got a little crisper.

We turtle-walked, lizard-walked, old-drunk-man-walked, baby-with-a-load-in-diaper-walked seeking to keep knees and toes from bashing submerged boulders.   Palms and wrists sored following the easy-to-follow dry parts of the trail, adding 40% vertical distance up and down obstacles strewn across the canyon.   I dragged my lower arms in the water to dull the aches and feel out any submerged traps, then took to crabbing forward centered over my butt, finally doing chest-only breaststroke dragging legs on the surface. When it was deep enough i’d float on my back and fade out in the canyon walls above me, slipping into a nap for just seconds, still willing the hangover away. The walls of the canyon weren’t worn, they’ve had everything flushed out of them. Frames of color with sudden interrupts dripping gravity and violence. Dreams hurtling forward enough to leave their best tingle on my tips.   Then awake again for another slippery boulder obstacle, with renewed passion to attack the canyon’s highlights and low-level noise.

We came to the route’s only big cliff, a genuine canyoneering challenge requiring a 30 foot jump or rappel.  I’ve jumped 50 feet, which is an impression-making experience to be sure, but its not that hard. I’ve never crawled out on a line where i would 100% die if i fucked up, and I had to 100% commit to the move to get me out.  Never on the bike. Watching a couple guys go before me, and the explanation from a couple guys who’d done it before settled my anxiety and my worry, my superego and ego. Nothing, however, prepared me for the blast of terror i felt when my footing struggled to stick and i had only my hands to hold me. This was just to get to the spot to clip in for the rappel! I instinctively turned and started to head back, back up the canyon, anywhere but towards the cliff. I settled down, followed the line outward, and on shaky legs dropped 5 feet down the handline to the launching spot. The rock was angled down and left, worn smooth. Holding the line with 1 arm and tossing my pack into the pool with the other, I felt the pitch and gravity pulling me sideways towards the rocks. I crouched down, quickly realizing that offered me no way to jump out. It seemed like i hesitated out there for a long time, but on Sam’s film it looks like i just stood up and walked off. Somehow I got my feet under me and counterbalanced my weight enough to take 2 strong steps and leap, getting my first good view of the landing as it came rushing up to me. I joined the others on the flat rocks by the side of the pool, cheering and laughing as the rest of the group made their way down the cliff.

Thanks Brett for the scoutmastering! and Sammy for capturing the day and letting me repost your vid.   Read his writeup here.   No point-and-shoots were injured in the making of this video. i was like ‘m’kay…sam’s here, cool the camera stays in the dry bag.‘   The one-handed jump with Sam hanging onto the camera is off-the-scale commitment to blogging about your radness.

The emerging technology from the company is almost entirely coming out of our LA office, a fundamental post-merger power shift that has me simultaneously looking over my shoulder and 3 steps ahead, wondering if I have a future or will just play out the string til my products are sunsetted. They offered me a team of 8 and an entire product family if I relocated. Likely my last chance at genuine advancement within the company. Ironic.   I’ve been passed over in Phx for the very same badassness that that they want in LA, that built the internet. Even after 15 years in the field i still question what getting ahead is all about.

I had two goals for the trip: recruit some allies who would help me transition to the new products along with a few other Phx lost boys, and perform due diligence on the idea of relocating. The rest was easy and fun – exchange ideas and build bridges with teammates I’ve worked closely but remotely with for years, eat Brazilian food and sushi, and enjoy the ocean climate.

The LA office is located along the Hollywood Walk of Stars, across from Grauman’s Chinese Theater.

Its an interesting neighborhood, for about 5 minutes. But I am not amused by people-watching, panhandlers in costumes, urban personalities in de rigueur clothes making statements, and slack-jawed tourists gawking at Madame Tussauds Wax Museum.   They just clog up the sidewalk and slow the commute.

100% authentic. Really. G and Alana would approve.   They had Mako and Robert Urich fer crissakes?

I hustled out of work at 6:30 to the Roosevelt Hotel. Its beautiful and dolled-up and superfluous. Pure LA. I could not find the main desk, or anything that even looked like a desk, after 10 minutes walking up and down Hollywood Blvd looking for the front door. I asked directions from a 6 foot rail-thin model\hostess at one of the hotel’s chic restaurants. I think it was a restaurant, I smelled food and heard dishes, but didn’t see anything that looked like food or any surface that looked suitable for plateware. I think the hostess got all her calories olfactorily. Surreal is talking to stunning women at their day jobs – they give me 100% more common courtesty than I’d get outside of work, and I return the favor by thanking them politely and not being misogynistic while the power-structure is shifted.     Finally I found my room, which made me feel as awkward as the hostess.   I do not know how to handle fashion, or luxurious things, nor do I particularly want to. Give me great gear, good weather, functional amenities, fast computers, strong plotlines, hearty sustenance with mass quantities and I am happy. Everything else makes me nervous about spilling.

I turned down drinks with some new acquaintances at the office to hike down the street to Runyon Canyon State Park for sunset, to see if LA offered the things that really matter to me.   Rugged coastal hills shot 500 feet skyward, cool ambiance diffused off lush vegetation. It was a hard grunt jogging to the top, like hiking Camelback or Wind Cave, but like those easily-accessible bite-sized hikes, hard to feel accomplishment when its also crawling with locals walking poodles or shuffling along in flip-flops.

G lent me Steggi to keep me company, the Hollywood sign far in the background

Lush succulents grew 5 feet high, unheard of by desert standards.

Bob Seger running through the soundtrack in my mind

I made my way down the Hollywood Hills in twilight, the glow of the city lights providing enough to navigate, then walked for awhile to soak in the freakshow. Waking at 5am to fly, a need for solitude, and convenient sushi takeout led me back to the hotel to unwind and sleep for once without getting head-butted by children.

It was not that easy.

There was some kind of Hollywood party in the pool area under my 2nd floor balcony, consisting of models in swimsuits standing in tubs of water filled with rose petals while people took notes and poked them. Every few minutes one of the models would yell like they scored a touchdown. Sometimes others joined, sometimes they did not. Getting into and out of my room I had to go under a velvet rope, for the first and probably last time ever. I squeezed by one woman wearing an evening gown and trailing a cameraman, she was a cross between Grace Jones and Elizabeth Banks, human color tones that should not coexist in meatspace. Her enormous bodyguard lumbered over too late to block me and my miso soup, and thrust his half-muscled half-fat arm between us as I slid by. If I’d meant any harm, either his arm would be broken or he’d have a knife in his core that he left wide open. Big and slow has disadvantages vs small and fast. Like everyone else at the party, he was all about appearances.

LA is beautiful and fascinating, in the same way as any famous city is, where every street name is recognizable. My coworkers are immune to the distractions – we ate lunch at In & Out Burger on Friday – much like my buddies and I take in stride the giant saguaros and rattlesnakes and desert flowers and rock formations on National. Familiarity and contempt would come quickly if I moved, leaving me crowded and claustrophobic, overpaying for rent and dying slowly every day in my car.

They say they are giving me the new product, which is an accomplishment of sorts. Perhaps it will be enough, perhaps some upcoming interviews will open opportunities. I know I have at least one more rung up the ladder within me. Finding clarity amidst the celluloid and illusions, and a few genuine connections, was worth the plane ride.

5 hrs on Bartlett Lake, on MLK Day!

my content-poaching from Sam is only partially compensated by loading the boat and doing the driving. i also supplied the GPS track, and if you look closely, you can see where we pulled over to tinkle.

Thanks Sam for a day that was as awesome as your vid!

Gang-banged tracked-out crud did not dissuade us!

20 hours of driving for a 40 hour blitz in Colorado did not dissuade us!

Wobbly first-day legs did not dissuade us!

Wolf Creek overrun by Texans and Okies who wander like cows on the slopes did not dissuade us!

Almost smashing into an elk did not dissuade us! But it came close.   James is driving the last 30 min into Pagosa Springs, when i shout out “DEER! DEER! DEER!” He screeches to a stop about 4 feet from it, when it finally decides to get off the road.   James through his mountain-man beard, and Ray through his steady hunter’s eyes, both flatly say “That was an elk“.   ‘Scuse the fuck outta me for saving our lives…

and the Texan who took couldn’t figure out the point-and-click camera. Thanks again Hoss!

were the writing on the back of the Ska Brewing truck at all legible, it would say ‘Responsible for more strikes than 19th century labor conditions’. We had the red for dinner at Homeslice in Durango.

James stampedes the Glory Hole

i’m either self-centered, enslaved by the demands of my children, or all the races I’ve gone to with Beckie are starting to blend together. likely all of the above. Not much actual marathon action, but a pretty cool coupla days.

shwag beanbags from the expo. this went on for 30 minutes, G ran about 2 miles, but there was no visible fatiguing effect on The Monsters

outside the pasta buffet

hotel hijinks preventing mommy from a proper night’s sleep

mommy leaving for the shuttle stop at 5am

Red Hills Parkway was closed to thru traffic, but didn’t seem to be a problem with us taking it directly from our hotel to where it intersected the marathon at mile 23.

last 3 miles down into town

the back route to the race weaved around Kayenta sandstone formations on the north side of town,but put us on the wrong side of road closures for meeting Beckie afterwards. Driving back towards the hotel i spotted a trailhead halfway up the twisty road.

G pretended she was finding ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, Alana happily dumped red dirt on her own head

my great little hikers! Pria in the background

the previous afternoon, G was totally stoked to go to a dinosaur museum near the race expo, where some world-class dino tracks were discovered a few years ago. But she decided to be a perfect little shit, throw tantrums, not pay attention to any of the displays, and demand toys from the gift shop nonetheless. Truly it was the worst imaginable caricature of the brat i have engendered, only the predominance of family-friendly LDS folks in the museum kept G from getting torn to ribbons by the masses. She could not believe that we were actually leaving and her behavior had made her such an outcast, it fed a secondary wave of horribleness, followed by a wave of sorrow reflecting on her newfound status as The Family Asshole.

What to do? We proceeded to the expo, and told her we’d start over and she’d get lots of food samples and candy. The expo was short on freebies but thick on deals, so i got some new socks and a sweet mid-weight fleece for about what i saved in not buying G presents at the Dino Museum. She was a really good girl, and periodically asked if we could go back so she could try again to be a good girl, we periodically told her “no sweetheart, you were bad and you need to live with the consequences“, which to a 4-yr old translated to “SHUT UP BITCH!”. i want to be a good dad, i don’t wat to be a pushover, but i don’t want to be the ugly alpha male.

Anyway…hiking the next day, her awfulness was still on her mind. I was kinda glad for it, that some lesson might come from all this. As we were playing dinosaurs during the hike, she kept mentioning the dino museum, and i kept fluffing her asking if she could be a good girl if we went back, and kept telling her how we were walking exactly where the dinosaurs had done 100 million years ago *cue theme from DinoSquad!*. She was stoked, we had more time to kill before the roads opened, so we drove back and asked the nice lady at the register if she’d let us in for 10 min and foster…REDEMPTION AT THE DINOSAUR MUSEUM

T-Rex footprint

free re-entry was greased by a promise to drop some duckets, and from G i extracted the promise that she would sometimes share her pteranodon with Alana, to remind her what being a good girl is all about

we met Beckie, Janna and Rob at their hotel right near the Finish, cause that’s where the beer was, and hung out by the pool for a few hours

The party wound down as all the marathoners started to crash, and i was reminded that my only workout was entertaining children for 11 hours, which while not insignificant, is not a workout. The bike was on the rack and stinky gear from the day before still in the trunk, i rallied to ride back up the marathon course and the Red Hills Parkway to explore some of the trails we spotted earlier. I rolled down and around the City Creek trail, the Heckler locked out and propedal on still made it too big for the mild but pretty red rock trail. It dumped me back in town at the bottom of the road climb, so i did it again as a storm blew a 30 mph headwind in from the south, arriving at the hotel just before the swirling dust and fat wind-whipped drops really started to sting.

what an awesome place for Ultimate

how much incongruity can fit into 1 picture? run what ya brung

Beckie has been wanting to stop here for a few years.   Its actually a good park for kids, other than being completely exposed and baking in the heat.   We did 4-5 short hikes of about a mile each.   G walked almost all of them, and Kila could come too.

I love Telluride! It may be my favorite vacation spot. Sure it rained and we couldn’t keep Alana clean for more than 5 minutes, but putting in a bike park with free lifts more than compensates. As did poaching the wifi from the Parks and Recs dept, even if i had to sit in the bathroom to do it.

We set up again in Town Park, then played on the playgrounds.

We wanted a hike at mountain-top since we didn’t really explore up there our last trip, and insanely decided to hoof it up See Forever Trail to the very top of the resort. As we approached the end of the trail, a maintenance worker commented he’d never seen anyone take a jogging stroller up here. Yeah, we’re crazy like that. 1500 vf and 2 miles later, the views were amazing.

The descent was almost as much work as the climb.

Everyone needed a break, and a little refueling.

Restaurant hit the spot, where Kila got all of Alana’s spillage.

It rained all night, and thwarted my plans to get out early for the bike park. Instead we drove Kenga up past the mill above Bridal Veil Falls.   The drive was slow and terrifying, but sure beat the walk.   Looking over the dashboard during this u-turn was the scariest thing i’ve ever done in a car.

We pushed up the trail until the terrain and impending weather got too worrisome to go further. Beers and picnic were worth it, at least for me and Beckie. G once again was talked off the ledge, and once again had a great time in spite of herself.

pushing the jogging stroller up this was brutal, and surely contributed to me being curled into an aching ball of sciatica upon returning home

stopped on the way down to let me gather my shit from all the switchbacks, and everyone else enjoy Bridal Veil Falls.

Beckie and the kids prepared for the playground, while i armored up for the bike park.   G asked me to ride wither her on her spidey-bike around the campground as I was ready to leave. It cost me a run before the oncoming weather, but how could I say no to my favorite little girl wanting to ride bikes?

I finally hit the gondola in full storm-trooper gear, but no pics were taken in the bike park.   I’m just not that good.   And I was alone. I did 5 runs in 15 minute intervals before the rain drove me off the mountain, my first time ever doing lift-assisted riding.   IT WAS AWESOME!   My first run was down No Brainer, to get a feel for the hill and the berms. It kinda bored me, which kinda fired me up to hit the black runs. The next four runs i hit Pan   Coaster with some dabbles into the World Cup trail, and it was simply awesome.   I wadded up on the jumps the first time down, out of practice and seeing them for the first time, but began to get my flow on a few near the bottom. On the third run i hit the big 4 foot drop between the aspen right at the start on Squirrel Catcher, and got progressively bolder at each trial I faced. I was definitely starting to feel the trail, so much that I ate shit off the Squirrel Catcher jump on the 4th run, the promptly pushed back up and pumped before liftoff and hit it clean. This was my pattern, as is typically my pattern: gradual progressions with confidence and humility.   I was feeling good, ready to try just about everything but 2 big trials on the World Cup trail, but a strong storm blew in.   It was dry at the top, but from the top of the run to the bottom I lost all braking and all control. I went otb on one steep slot I’d nailed 3 times in a row, bashed my helmet against a rock, and knew it was time to go.   Alas. Alas and alack. At least my ego got fed enough to feel good about my efforts and still quit while i was ahead.

I froze back down the gondola and quick spin back to camp, froze while repacking my gear, and suffered beckie’s frozen stare while surfing the tubez in the baffroom.   We all huddled in the tent, drank a bottle of wine and ate graham crackers, but woke to a beautiful morning.

Today was Beckie’s turn to head out, and she did a long run along the Telluride River Trail.   When she returned I headed up for what I hoped would be the jewel of the vacation: up See Forever, then 3500 feet down the backside of the mountain on Wasatch Connector to the Bear Creek Trail and   back into town.

I pushed a brutal 10 minutes, .3 miles and 400 feet off the lift, then rode 1.5 miles with .4 miles intermittent pushing to the top.   The last big pitch was intimidating, but I was fired up when i hit the summit.

The descent down was scary.   The trail was not gnarly like in Arizona, but 6 inches wide through talas with unforgiving dropoffs.   I walked what did not look solid, hooted through what did, and sniffed practically every flower down the initial descent.

This basin was just a false bottom, with a huge waterfall soon after it that led to more switchbacks, more exposure, more huge dropoffs to tune out. It was hard to believe there was so much more descending to do. It went on and on and on.

After awhile it felt ridiculous, like I was tempting fate by continuing, each switchback obscured by plants and full of loose or embedded rocks.   It wasn’t that hard, but being new to the trail and have trouble seeing what was coming up, i just never knew when i’d be forced to ride loose rocks next to a dropoff or get knocked off line by the encroaching fauna on all sides.   I definitely went small, and finally – mercifully – emerged onto the tame Bear Creek trail.   Our plan was for everyone to hike up Bear Creek and for us to hopefully meet up.   It was joyous when i saw the family rounding a turn in front of me.

We hung out and had a picnic before heading back to camp.

Then up the gondola for more playgrounds and exploring and french fries and beer before a sunset ride on the gondola down the hill.

We left Durango on the Million Dollar Highway, which once again was beautiful and terrifying driving through the clouds.   Approaching Silverton, we began driving through a deluge for the better part of an hour.

While we unloaded and dried out every single item in the truck bed, i cursed myself for taking the seatpost off the Heckler and tried to get an inch of water out of the frame. Alana displayed her burgeoning verbal skills, concern for others, and savant-like abilities.

Finally we were off along the Uncompahgre River Trail – G and I on the 2-bike, and Beckie running with Alana.

Alana was climbing up and down this by herself after a few tries while G and I sang Pinto’s Pretty Pony song.

she ventured into new tunnels

G remembered this from 2 years ago.   Hard to know if she could actually recall things from when she was 2.5, but she was certain she could.

minutes after this photo, another storm dropped in on top of us.   G began to panic and cry. I got her under control, told her we had to suck it up and pedal back to our cabin, that i’ve ridden through many storms, and that panicking was only going to make things worse. It was amazing to witness her get herself under control and focus on getting herself out of trouble.   Every 30 seconds I’d tell her how good she was doing, to keep pedaling, to not freak out. She kept repeating “I’m not freaking out, I’m not freaking out.” Many times over the weekend we talked her down while high on a mountain or with a storm on the horizon.   I don’t know if she did better or worse than most kids, but it sure seemed to me an accomplishment.

The next morning i launched early to climb the Portland Trail. The climb up out of town was hard from the start, but once I got on the trail it was a tuff but steady climb up to the high point at 9k

I dropped a few hundred feet down the Cascade Trail, then mostly-pushed my bike up the Chief Ouray Mine Trail 1 mile and 1300 vf. I thought I was going to puke, measuring progress 1 switchback at a time, amazed that 5 min would go by and I’d have chomped off 300 feet.   That last half mile leveled out at 10k into a very exposed traverse.

From the mine, I got a magnificent view down into Ouray, followed by a methodical dh full of super-tight switchbacks.  With few rocks and no cactus, it was no big deal after riding Tom’s Thumb.   Sure the CO climbs are brutal and humbling, but the terrain and the climate certainly compensate compared to AZ.

I met Beckie and the girls at the town pool, and was disheartened to learn that the town now required riders on the slides to be 48″ tall! FUCK!!!! Why wasn’t this on the website?!?!? I told the lifeguards that G had ridden these 2 full years ago, and that we specifically planned a few days here so she could ride the slides. They were very sympathetic and polite in hearing me out, but told me the city recently changed its policies as an insurance requirement. Fucking lawyers!

We were told G could ride if she could pass a swim test – a 25 meter lap of both free and backstroke. This was more distance than she’d ever done. She was eager to try, but I was worried about further heartbreak if she crapped out. I wasn’t worried about her fitness, but mentally I really did not think she could do it. She hopped in the water while I swam right next to her and Beckie and Alana stood at the far end. It wasn’t pretty, and I talked to her the whole way, but she made it across the pool. The backstroke was just as ugly, me telling her every stroke to just do a little more, a little more, that hours of fun were just a few strokes away.   When she finally touched the wall, it was about the happiest i’ve ever seen her.   She was even bumping rocks with the lifeguard.

We rode slides almost non-stop for the next 3 hrs. G probably hit them 50 times, and me probably 25 with her once Alana fell asleep.   Had they kept them open longer, she would have gone all night long.

Afterwards at the playground, Alana found some inspiration to push herself too.

Kenga was loaded with every bit of bike and camping gear we owned, and even slowed by child-induced gas station marathons, we made it to Durango in just 8 hours.   There was much rejoicing for fresh air and greenery.

After a night at Junction Creek Campground chilling, sleeping late, and watching Alana find new and interesting ways of filthifying and injuring herself, we loaded the 2-bike and the trailer for an afternoon along the Animas River trail.

We stopped at a playground for romping, beers, and some swimming in the river

the path was 15 miles out-and-back, a not-insignificant effort even on the pavement.   G’s longest day on the 2-bike, and she did great.

We stopped briefly at the County Fair on the way back to camp so G could ride the ferris wheel.   This was our first time doing anything more than passing through Durango, and it has a lot to offer. Easy to get around, and the campground is just outside of town.   Turns out a high school friend of mine that I’ve reconnected with on FB lives just down the street – we unfortunately were not able to hook up, but having a friend living 2 miles from camp and at the start of the Colorado Trail is reason to return.

Back at camp, we picked up Kila then headed further up the mountain for an easy hike at 9k along the Animas Valley Overlook before more marshmallows.