The Dreaded Track

I am not sure why I do it, but I have forced myself, on occassion, to run to the track and do a little bit of so-called interval training. Yesterday happened to be one of those days. I usually plan these workouts early in the week so that I will have at least partly fresh legs. So this week I decided I would try the intervals again on Thursday after work. So the funny thing is all day yesterday I dreaded going to the track. I don't think it is just the pain of running hard that scares the wits out of me. It is that damn watch. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that as I age I am losing speed and the track is where it will become glaringly obvious. An additional second on each lap portends the inevitable decline. Sometimes I think, I'd rather not know that I am becoming slower. It is not that I was fast in the first place, but at least for me, losing something I once had is so terribly bittersweet.

Anyway, I couldn't quite come up with a good enough excuse to miss the workout yesterday. So I jogged over to the track and decided to stick to the planned minimum workout 3 x 1600 meters with 3 minutes rest in between. I know this workout is not really the correct one for my training goals, but it has become the standby, at least until I feel like I am in shape.

The first 1600 was terrible. With each lap I was slowing down and by the end I came in at 6:04, feeling like I was totally spent. I know that just a couple weeks ago I did the same workout and was able to do all my intervals under 6:01 with the first one being at 6:01. Why is it that the first one is always the hardest and the slowest? I reminded myself that usually this is the case, the second is usually a little smoother and easier. So the second went by at 5:58 and that was with the headphones on. Then I did the third in 5:56 knowing full well that I would not do a fourth. On occassion I have done 4 and am certain that I need to be doing 5, but the mind was not ready to push that hard.

I ran home feeling like I had accomplished something but a little worried that two weeks ago I finished with a 5:51. There go those seconds. Oh well, I am betting a few seconds aren't going to make much difference in my next 50 mile race!

"No Respect. I don't get no respect!"

Usually I don't like to speak using double negatives. Note that the title, taken from Rodney Dangerfield, does not make any sense unless he is trying to say he actually gets respect! But in this case it is truly appropriate for my story.

So yesterday I was biking home from work like usual, riding the same route I ride on average 3 or 4 times a week, when a car pulls up in the right turn lane on my right side, at a stoplight. After a few seconds I realize that the older woman in the car is trying to get my attention. She rolled down her window, then gave a thumbs up and stated matter-of-factly 'I really admire what you do.' I was blown away and a little confused at first, I guess because I didn't realize what she meant by what I do (I do alot of things). I have to assume that she meant she admired my bike commuting. I gave a thumbs up back and took off as the light turned green. As I rode away my irrepressible ego started inflating to ginormous dimensions which definately helped me get up the next 1/2 mile long hill! Then nearing the top of the long steady grind, I was just biking along in my little bike lane when I noticed a piece of garbage wing by right in front of me. It was no coincidence that I was riding by three teenagers with asses hanging out of their pants and hair covering their ears when the flying projectile just missed me and my bike. In this case I instinctively knew that one of those little $*!ts had purposefully tried to hit me with a plastic piece of garbage. In fact, as I passed them at about 15 mph I recognized a little smirk starting to grow on one of their faces. Without even a second thought or a look back I dropped my right arm and gave them an upside down one-fingered salute. By now my ego had deflated but I rode home confident that I had had the last word, so to speak, and happy that I hadn't been hit by the missile.

I find the most interesting aspect of this story to be the fact that I was absolutely confused and didn't know what to say when I got some respect. But when I was disrespected I didn't even have to think in order to respond, in kind. Maybe I have been riding on the roads too much, or living in the city for too long!!

Turn Me Over - I'm Overdone

Today I woke up feeling every single day of my 34 years and then some. It is unusual for me to still feel tired when I wake up, even if I get up really early. So I'm starting to think I may have done a little too much running last weekend! But it was well worth it because I had fun!!

I started out by running about 16 or 17 miles on the roads, circling Mercer Island on Saturday morning. Then I quickly downed some food and went on a short 5 mile hike with a Mountaineers group. On Sunday I met some Seattle Running Club folks at Tiger Mtn and ran one Fat Ass loop. When we were done with that I re-loaded my water bottle and went out for some more by myself. I think I ended up with somewhere over 29 trail miles on Sunday.

I admit, I was not so sure that heading back up into the hills after the first loop was such a great idea. But then I saw a bear as I ran up the gravel road. This was the first bear I have ever seen on Tiger Mtn. and it made my day. I kinda felt sorry for the bear though because he/she was just trying to cross the gravel access road. The problem was that the regular weekend hordes of Tiger Mtn. hikers (and me, of course) were tramping up the road due to the current parking lot construction. The bear saw me and the large groups right behind me and headed back into the bushes, never making it across the road. Now Yogi was stuck between the busy I-90 freeway and the busy hiking road. I wonder how he/she came from the direction of the freeway in the first place. Maybe there is a wildlife underpass?

I'm sure the bear found a way to get where he/she wanted to go eventually, but it got me wondering . . . why do so many people go to the High Point exit for Tiger Mtn. every weekend? And why do they all just tramp up and down the most uninspiring and boring trail on the entire mountain (the trail to W. Tiger 3) when there is so much more beauty and nature in this 13,000 acre park? I know that part of the answer is that the High Point exit is the most convenient and easy access to the mountain and that W. Tiger 3 promises a peak experience and decent uphill training. It just seems so unfortunate that virtually all park visitors are so concentrated due in large part to the configuration of the trails and trailheads. What would happen if there were trailhead access points (with parking) in other places like downtown Issaquah, Issaquah-Hobart Rd, and further east on I-90? I know that there already are a couple of other access points but the parking sucks at these places and there are no facilities.

I don't have any real answers to the crowded conditions . . . but it might help if the following occurred:

1. People started hiking/running further into the park and gave up on going straight up W. Tiger 3. Go for an adventure! It looks like they are currently re-grading W. Tiger 3 into a highway. Sounds like it will soon be even less appealing than it is now!

2. People drove a little further to USFS trailheads. It wouldn't hurt if the USFS gave up on the mismanaged and unconstitional fee program so people can afford to take a walk in THEIR national forests.

One Corner of Fun - Part V

Ok, I am finally going to try and finish my travelogue for the 2007 spring trip.

On April 26 I started down the Kane Gulch trail with a plan to thru-hike Kane Gulch and Grand Gulch from the Kane Gulch Ranger Station to Bullett Canyon then hike up and out Bullett Canyon. I figured I could probably hitch a ride back to the Kane Gulch Ranger station and if not I could run the road! Since I only had two days to do the trip I hiked quickly but took time to explore as many ruins as I could. And boy did I see alot of ruins! In fact, there were so many ruins in the first 15 or 16 mile day of hiking that I'm sure I missed a few of them.

The first ruin I saw and one of the most prominent was Junction Ruin which was where Kane Gulch met Grand Gulch. The Junction Ruin is a true cliff dwelling which means you better be spiderman if you want to take a close look. I wasn't about to risk life and limb to climb up to this ruin, but I had a great time imagining what life might have been like for those who perched high on the canyon wall. It was probably a good idea to have a full cup of coffee before taking a stroll to the canyon floor every morning!

Further down canyon many of the ruins were much more accessible. At the prominent ruins the BLM had left information about each of the ruins in ammo boxes. Signs of ancient life were everywhere, from scattered potsherds to pictographs and smoke stained rocks.

It was easy to see why so many people have lived in Grand Gulch for so long. The bottom of the canyon was full of life. In some places the trail was in danger of being overtaken by waist high grass. And in several sections of canyon a constant caterpillar rain pelted the trail hiker. Unfortunately for the shimmering cottonwoods, the caterpillars had invaded and were just crawling out of their nests when I walked through. The caterpillars were a nuisance and made it a little difficult to find non-creepy crawling campsites but at the same time it was amazing to see such an awakening. The plentiful caterpillars had drawn the attention of birds and bats of all sizes and shapes. When I wasn't scraping caterpillars off my head and pack I was enjoying listening to all sorts of bird songs.

When I arrived at the junction of Bullett Canyon I found where all the people were hiding. It seems that this area is a popular camping area, especially for obnoxious boy scout troups and travelling college classrooms. Even without all the people, the best campsites where limited, unless one was fond of sleeping with caterpillars. So I quickly beat it down Grand Gulch and found some camping seclusion, both from the people and the multi-legged crawlers.

My final night sleeping out in the canyons had to be one of the best of my life as the sky was completely clear, stars spinning above, bats swooping low and toads were making love. I had a little piece of red rock on which to view it all. I slept like a baby.

On Friday the 27th I wandered up Bullett Canyon stopping to visit the ruins and soaking in the best weather of the entire trip. I spent alot of time at Perfect Kiva ruin. As its name suggests this ruin was in very good shape and had an intact kiva which you could descend into on a ladder, installed by the BLM (see top photo). It was a little spooky inside of the kiva but it was easy to see how the ancient indians may have enjoyed relaxing in this cool area during the midday heat, kind of like an air-conditioned dive bar. Maybe they drank a few cervezas and played some cards!?! The interior walls were covered with a glassy substance which the ruin's literature explained was petrified rat urine! Even more appropriate for a dive bar!

I finally left the ruins and canyons behind and took to hiking the road back to the trailhead. After about a 1/2 hour of hiking the road and only seeing 2 cars, I was finally picked up by some tin-can tourists on a road tour. Two of them looked like they may have been around when the ruins were occupied and their driver explained that they did not speak English. Speaking in broken English their driver explained that he was driving the old folks around, seeing the sights from behind the glass of their air-conditioned SUV. The driver explained it is the only way that they can see this country since they are so old and frail. I felt sorry for them, but thankfully accepted their hospitality and got a ride back to my starting point. Here is my revised Bob Dylan lyrics: 'Let me die in my footsteps, before being carted around in a cool leather-lined box on wheels'.

The final part of my trip was basically just alot of work driving back to WA state. I understand that scenic driving is the number one outdoor pastime for Americans and many people could write an entire travelogue about my 1400 mile drive home, But in my opinion it truly pales in comparison to taking off on your own two feet. So I won't even attempt to write about the drive, except to say that I stopped in to seem B & B in Walla Walla and had a great time playing horseshoes!

One Corner of Fun - Part IV

The wet weather took off as soon as John left but I guess his sickness stayed around. I drove down to the Grand Gulch area in preparation for starting my next backpacking trip and became dreadfully sick just as I found a place to camp. That night was a real challenge, especially considering that the temperature dropped below freezing and I was sleeping out under the stars.

In the morning I struggled to choke down a little bit of food and then decided I would try a short dayhike instead of starting a backpacking trip. So I drove to the trailhead for Fish and Owl Canyons and slowly ambled down into Owl Canyon. Throughout the day my body and mostly my spirit were buoyed up by the incredible beauty I saw down in the canyon. Immediately after starting the hike I came to the first of several ancient ruins, in an alcove below the overhanging walls. Small shards of pottery and dried maize cobs were littered all about the ruin. Although I am certain that I was a few miles from the closest person, I certainly did not feel alone in this canyon. Others had been here for a very long time and fortunately for me they seemed to welcome me to continue on down canyon.


The deeper I went into the canyon the more life seemed to spring from every little crevice and sometimes the singing of the songbirds was a little overwhelming (see hummingbird & Lizard photos). I attribute much of the life, and death in the case of this dead mouse, to the presence of water in the canyon. There was a small stream in places and several nice pools which were surrounded by hanging gardens.

I ended up wandering much further than I had anticipated, and I almost convinced myself to do the loop down Owl and up Fish Canyons. But a little reason prevailed and I chose to return the way I came, saving my energy so that I could start a backpacking trip the following day.

That night I camped at the Fish & Owl trailhead where I awoke fully recovered from my sickness. Just before settling in for the night I was pleasantly surprised to see a couple drive in with a full load of gear in their Subaru and a soaped in "Just Married" on the back window! A trip to the canyons, now that is my idea of a honeymoon!

The next morning I rushed back to the Kane Gulch ranger station gotta permit and took off down Kane Gulch - Grand Gulch for a two day backpack trip. To be continued . . .

One Corner of Fun - Part III

I arrived in Moab around 8 pm and spent about 2.5 hours looking for a campsite. Note to self: Don't visit Moab anywhere near a weekend! It seems like all the visitors to SE Utah concentrate at Moab on the weekend. You'd think they would hang out elsewhere since there really isn't a plethora of great non-motorized recreation around Moab. I guess that is the rub. Many people seem to be looking for the motorized type of recreation, either 4-wheeling or scenic driving through Arches. In fact, in the two days I spent near Moab it became increasingly evident that Moab is little more than a rest-stop for petroleum based tourism!!

Enough ranting. I ended up camping way out in Potash on the Colorado River and was abruptly woken early in the morning by a group of obnoxious adolescent rafters. On the plus side I finally got to sleep outside due to clear warm skies.

Since I still had a full day before my friend John would arrive for a backpacking trip, I drove into town and rented a mountain bike for a day. I took the souped up Ellsworth Moment out to the Poison Springs and Portal trail which starts near the Dinosaur tracks on Potash Rd. I was pleasantly surprised at how much fun I had trying to wear myself out and get my money's worth biking all over the slickrock. Although I had never ridden a full-suspension bike and had never ridden sand/slickrock after about a 1/2 hour I got the hang of it and I was soon passing ATV'ers on the uphills. Bombing down slickrock and catching little jumps was awesome and reminded me alot of skiing. In fact I liked it so much I did a few laps of the same runs!

After a full day of biking I got cleaned up, bought some supplies and went to the Moab Brewery to slurp brews and wait for John to arrive. I was really excited to get to hang with John since he lives in Denver and we only get to meet up about once every year or two. Even though he has alot of responsibilities with his family, job and school he took some time off and even rented a car in order to drive out to Utah for our trip. Thanks alot John! You are a totally rad friend!

So on April 21 we drove down to the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park and were lucky enough to pickup a day-of backcountry permit for a 4 day backpacking trip. Getting started wasn't too easy since I was only prepared to carry a lightweight pack and yet we knew that we were due for some stormy weather. It took awhile but we finally got on the trail with John carrying the heaviest load (he needed the exercise anyway). Fortunately for us middle-aged casual hikers the trails in the Needles are relatively short and have very few climbs and descents. So for most of the trip we were able to take our time and enjoy the scenery while hiking from camp to camp. Although the distances between camps were short and the canyons were relatively small and homey I was extremely impressed with how undisturbed and wild the canyons seemed. After the first day we rarely saw anyone but saw a plethora of wildlife and really felt like we had the place to ourselves.

The trails were so short we even had time for a day-hike on our first day. After arriving at our designated campsite we continued up Elephant Canyon and found Druid Arch bathed in sunlight while the canyon was in the shadows. This spectacular arch was a little hard to photograph because of the position of the sun so the photos are only the best of the bunch.

On the second day we decided we needed a little adventure so we day-hiked down to Spanish Bottom on the Colorado River (technically we were across the river from Spanish Bottom on the Lower Red Lake trail). Although this hike may have been on the order of 19 miles round trip and included a bit of steep hiking it was well worth the extra effort. It was cool to have the trail all to ourselves especially considering that we were visiting the mighty Colorado just before the entrance to Cataract Canyon, one of the most wild sections of the river! At Spanish Bottom we saw a large group of boaters no the opposite side of the river. After a short lunch we headed back up the trail. Before reaching camp our good luck ran out and John got sick which is how he would remain for the rest of the trip. In addition the weather took a turn for the worse with some wind and rain showers.

The next morning we awoke to heavy rain showers. Since neither of us had a functioning watch, who knows when we finally got up, but it definately wasn't until after the rain had stopped (briefly) and it was likely around 10 AM. John was even sicker than the day before, but like usual showed very little sign that he was virtually on his deathbed, and certainly did not complain! What a trooper!


Anyway I was fortunate enough to go outside the tent just in time to hear a somewhat disturbing sound of rushing water coming from up-canyon. I ran down to the bottom of the canyon just in time to see the leading edge of flowing water advancing down the dry wash. Although this "flash-flood" moved no faster than a walking person and was no deeper than knee deep, it was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. It was so cool I had to take a bunch of photos to show the water's progression down the dry streambed.

In the afternoon we ambled along under drizzling skies to our next and final camp in Lost Canyon. Here we spent a relatively uneventful night before heading back to civ on April 24. After getting back to Moab John jetted back to CO and I cleaned up, fueled up and headed back south toward Grand Gulch . . . To be continued.

One Corner of Fun - Part II

This the second part of my 2007 vacation travelogue. On Wednesday April 18th I chose to relax a little bit, primarily because I was worn out from the long "pasture" track hike. So I slept in a little and then went exploring upriver from my car, on a little geocaching expedition. Prior to the trip I found a geocache item near North Bend, WA called "Big Cat & Little Cat say Hi". These two are just a couple of toy cats chained together with a couple other cacheing items. Since I new I was going to go on a trip to a faraway place and the two cats appeared to like to travel I thought I would take them along and see if I could find a cache to leave them at.

I have never actually geocached before and my GPS unit is about as simple as they come. Most of the time I only use the GPS to alleviate my worries when I go off trail for a long ways. I like to set waypoints as I go, leaving cookie crumbs, as some might say so that I may be able to find my way home if I forget landmarks. Or sometimes I use it just to see how far I have gone.

Anyway I decided to try and find my first geocache using the GPS. It ended up not being much of an adventure as the cache was probably only a mile upstream in the middle of a broad valley. I was a little surprised at what I found on top of the rock covering the geocache! Lets just say that some of these geocachers must not really need their GPS units, and surely don't need them to get home, because one was left right at the cache location! I am not totally sold on geocaching as a worthwhile or exciting activity, but I guess if it takes a little treasure hunt to get a few buts off the couch then maybe it is helpful for some people. Based upon my limited experience, however, it sure doesn't seem like the caches are all that remote. In fact, you could probably ride an ATV right to this particular cache and I am certain that quite a few people already have! Why not hide caches on vertical walls of sandstone, under the water or at the top of a tree. Now that would make the trip a little more exciting.

After finishing the cacheing I wandered over to a old mining/ranching cabin (shown above) and pondered why the previous inhabitants left. This looks like a great place for a cabin to me. I think I might fix the place up a little, but otherwise this looks like a stunning place to do a little living!

Speaking of caches. Since I cancelled my plans to do the Muddy loop I had to drive over to another area where I had cached some water a couple days before. By the time I picked up my water and extra food near Cistern Canyon there were some serious storm clouds on the horizon and the wind was already kicking up a small dust storm. Once again I felt forced by the weather to change my plans. So instead of staying in the southern part of the swell I hightailed it to the east. I quickly drove to the eastern part of the San Rafael Swell near Goblin Valley State Park, and finally found some people!

Unfortunately, most of the campers I found at Little Wildhorse Canyon appeared to be of the ATV ridin, RV sleeping variety. I am sure they were good people just a little to hopped up on noise and fumes for me! I took a quick hike in a dust storm down Little Wildhorse Canyon before calling it a day and escaping to camp at the head of Chute Canyon. Here I had the place and all the wind and dust to myself!

The morning of April 19 dawned clear, cold and thank-goodness not windy! So I took off down Chute Canyon with a plan to hike Chute, find my way over to Crack Canyon, and hike back up Crack to the eastern side of the swell where I could hike the road back to my car. I enjoyed wandering down Chute canyon in the shade of the canyon walls, even traversing through a couple of nice narrow places. But I guess somebody else wasn't so excited about my visit! While walking the canyon I heard a bit of noise somewhere above me but couldn't pinpoint where it came from. I walked another 20 feet stopped and turned just in time to see a rock land just where I had been standing. After about a minute of looking I finally made out 5 bighorn sheep scrambing on the rocks above me (shown above). If not for the rock missile I am sure I would never have noticed these majestic animals. Their coloring allowed them to blend in perfectly with the rocks and their generally nimble and quiet climbing made them hard to find even when listening for their footsteps. Now that is what I call shock and awe!

Before long I came to a side canyon where I thought I could traverse to Crack Canyon. So off I went exploring unknown territory. Surprisingly I ran into my first fellow hiker of the entire trip in this un-named canyon. Interestingly enough he was also the organizer of a volunteer effort to install signage in the canyons. It seems that alot of people seem to get lost making the traverse from Chute to Crack and vice-versa so he was planning on putting in some signs for the BLM. He explained where I need to go to make it to Crack and we parted going opposite directions. Suffice it to say that I was not prepared to do the route finding without a map. I never found the correct route to get to Crack so I climbed up high on top of the rocky plateau and enjoyed the view. I couldn't see back to the western side of the Swell but I could make out the Goblin Valley area and a lot of open land between me and the Maze in Canyonlands N.P. It was awesome.

I gave up on the planned loop and just found my way back up Chute Canyon to the car. A full days effort for a full days adventure. I decided I had seen enough of the San Rafael Swell and decided to drive to Moab that night. To be continued . . .

One Corner of Fun - Part 1

I was tempted to title this travelogue Four Corners of Fun since it is all about my recent trip to the Four Corners region, however, then I realized I only saw the stuff near one corner! I guess that just means I need to go back at least 3 more times! For those who don't know the Four Corners term is commonly used to describe the area where the states of UT, CO, AZ, and NM meet.

For the last two weeks (and an extra weekend) I travelled all over the southeastern corner of the great colorful state of Utah trying to satisfy my need for sun, solitude and fun. I think I found a fair amount of the latter two, but I could have used a little more sun. Since this is going to be a long story I have decided I will break it up into parts. Here is part 1:

I started out by driving to the San Rafael Swell via a stopover in Walla Walla, WA. Both at the beginning and end of my trip I got to stop in and see a couple of my best friends Beezer and 'Brielle. They have just set down roots in WW and are in full nesting mode, preparing for their impending stork visit.
I really enjoyed relaxing with them and taking a break from the endless driving. I only half-heartedly wish that I could have relaxed in their laid back abode for the entire two weeks, but then again I would have eventually gotten bored of drinking beer and playing horseshoes! NOT

My plans for the first part of my vacation were to do a 4 to 5 day backpacking loop down Muddy Creek and through Mud, Cistern and Chimney Canyons. These canyons are located near the southern edge of the San Rafael Swell on BLM land. Based upon my guidebook the first day of the loop promised to be fairly exciting as Muddy Creek flows through a section called the Chute which is a length of 20 foot wide narrows where the walls soar 500 feet above and the creek oftentimes runs from wall to wall.

So on the morning of Monday April 16th I started down Muddy Creek from my car camp. Only a 1/2 mile from the car I encountered the first river crossing and soon realized that my feet were going to be really cold and wet for the entire day. The river was generally less than knee deep but the water was pretty dang cold. I am guessing some of the water may have even been snowmelt since I saw snow in the hills on the way to the creek the day before.

As the day warmed and I started enjoying the scenery of the deepening canyon I noticed that some very large and dark clouds were forming above the canyon rim. I really wanted to get to my first camp on the other side of the Chute but started to worry a little about the possibility of a flash flood. A flash flood while I was in the narrows could be a disaster. Especially considering the fact that the guidebook mentions a log-jam 25 feet above the canyon floor in the deepest section of the narrows and I don't swim!

So I picked up the pace and soon entered the narrows where I was wading in water more than walking on dry land. It was exhilarating moving quickly down canyon, rounding countless bends as the walls rose above, nearly blocking out the ever darkening sky. Although the creek was still relatively small it had an ominous roar due to the echoing walls. After awhile, I came to a place where the canyon temporarily opened allowing me breathe a little easier knowing that I could climb above a flood here. After taking a short break and wondering whether or not there was an escape route from this particular area I plunged forward as the canyon became ever more narrow. About a 1/2 hour past the opening I came to a place where the wading went above my waist and my pack starting getting wet. I searched in vain for a sandbar which would allow me to go forward without swimming. Because the possibility of a storm threatened, I did not have the time to waterproof my backpack for a swim, and I wasn't willing to try to swim the deep section by myself, I quickly decided to turn around. Maybe I could find another route or come up with a new plan back in the open section of canyon.

About 20 minutes later I was in the open section of canyon between the two narrows when the sky broke open and I was pelted with pea sized hail for about 30 minutes. Even more dramatic than the hail were the near constant thunder and frequent lightning flashes. I made a couple halfhearted attempts to setup my tarptent but soon realized I couldn't get the thing setup in the gusting wind and loose sand soils. After the hail stopped I clung to the hope that I could find a canyon escape route where I would be able to bypass the narrows. So I started climbing up one side of the canyon towards a high route which the guidebook refers to as the pasture track. A 1/2 hour of searching later I had only found insurmountable obstacles of vertical rock and soil so I backtracked to the bottom of the canyon where I was promptly greeted with constant rain. I found a small overhang of rotten rock where I was able to hide from the deluge and watch small lakes and streams form on every piece of dry ground outside my ad-hoc shelter. After about an hour and a half I realized should take advantage of my relatively sheltered position and brew up some dinner. So I quickly cooked a meal which helped warm me up.

Around 6:30 PM the rain finally stopped and I looked out to see that the river was not too much higher than before the rain. Since the sky was still gray and likely to rain all night I decided to use my food energy to get me back to the trailhead before I really got soaked. So hightailed it back to the car with my tail between my legs, arriving just before dark and another bit of rain.

Due to my weather misfortunes and bruised confidence I settled for a day hike on Tuesday. For this trip I was to follow an old mining track high above Muddy canyon, bypassing the narrows, and then dropping down into Chimney Canyon. For the first section of the hike I had to traverse back down Muddy canyon for awhile. Consequently, I nearly ran into a sleeping herd of wild horses! I had been wondering about the large piles of horse apples in the canyon and these 6 horses provided a great answer. These horses appeared to own this canyon and seemed to looked at me as an interloper. They watched me cautiously but with the confidence of wild animals in a pack. It was obvious who the alpha male was as he stood between me and the others, ready to teach me a lesson if needed. It was impressive to see such beautiful and wild large animals in such an amazing canyon.

The day's hike got even better when I climbed up onto the high "pasture" route and could see the vast canyons below. Because the route followed a high bench of the Muddy canyon drainage it's length must have been double that of travelling at the base of the canyon. Up here I had to skirt around every small side canyon which drained into the Muddy, making for a very long hike.

But it was absolutely awe inspiring looking out over the vast sculpted landscape below me with an unbroken blue bowl above. Later in the day, while walking along daydreaming I must have caught some movement out of the corner of my eye because somehow I picked out a couple of silhouetted heads and antlers/horns from all the scrubby vegetation. I set out to get a little closer and before long I was watching 6 pronghorn antelope or bighorn sheep who were watching me! I am still not certain if they were antelope or sheep without a full curl? You can see from my photo that they only let me get so close. They obviously weren't too interested in me because after a little while they hopped down some steep slopes to disappear in the canyons below.

I finally made it to Chimney Canyon and hurried down as far as I could afford to go before turning around for the day. Before long I came to a couple of waterfalls and pools which would have been a serious obstacle if I was coming from down canyon (my original plan). Climbing down one of these falls without a rope and belay was out of the question, at least for me, since It was a 20 foot class 4 to 5 climb. So I revelled in my solitude and took a quick skinny-dip in one of the cool pools. I'm no nudist but I enjoyed sitting naked in the sun while every bit of water slowly evaporated from my skin.
On the way back I had a blast doing a little running in order to cover the distance a little faster. It was truly exhilarating running all alone above the canyons, racing to get back before dark!

Why Doesn't Anyone Care?

Last Sunday I rode my bike over to Seattle and went to the Iraq war protest. I am not a regular protestor or peace marcher, but I have on occassion gone to a march or two. I wanted to go to this protest primarily because I am so frustrated that nothing is changing. No one, not Congress and not the general population, and least of all the President is willing to get some balls, stand up and end a war which will never be won, or maybe it has already been won? (I won't even try to explain this statement since the explanation has to be made for each of the President's reasons for war. Ask the President!). I am not sure if it takes a strong, intelligent and thoughtful person to start a war, but I am becoming ever more certain that that kind of person is definately what it takes to end one.

So I made up a little cardboard sign, taped it to my bike, and rode into town. The bike ride was great as the clouds lifted and the sun started to dry out the city. But the protest left me unimpressed. It seemed like a significant portion of the crowd consisted of the city's destitute and homeless. While the remainder primarily appeared to consist of far-left leaning pascifists. Now I realize that judging by appearances is the worst kind of generalization and that I don't exactly fit the mold of normal american consumer. I am not trying to sound elitist (it just happens when you have a strong opinion!). But I just wish I would have seen more average looking Wall-Mart shopping, American Idol watching, non-political party card-carrying citizens, either protesting against or for the war. So much of the war debate is framed by the extremes and not by the undecided middle. It is extremely tragic that middle America, whether literal (ie Kansas), or economic seems to refuse to participate. So many don't even vote, it shouldn't exactly be surprising that the vast majority won't voice their opinion in public. I could of course be all wrong. Maybe they are all writing letters to their representatives and making sure that the will of the people is heard. I just don't believe that this is occurring. The only so-called voice of the middle is from the numerous polls which always seem to tilt toward one side or the other, dependent upon who is doing the polling.

Whether or not I am on the right or wrong side, fighing against or with the will of the people, it would be nice to know that the rest of America actually cares about what is happening in Iraq. Based upon the lack of participation it sure doesn't seem like anyone cares. So for me the bigger and more disturbing question is why doesn't anyone care?

p.s. You have to click on the photo to read the bike sign!

Silence

Due to my recent running injury and resulting non-running routine I have alot more time on my hands than usual. So two weeks ago I decided I could finally try and ski in to Calvin's cabin this year. The decision was made semi-last-minute so I wasn't even going to try to find some partners. It still seemed like a decent plan for a weekend since I didn't have anything else to do and I was dreading sitting around waiting for my legs to heal. It is bad enough that I have a hard time sleeping when I am not running. Lately, I have been dwelling too much on my injury and spiraling into a mild funk when I think of how unprepared I am going to be for this summer's adventures! So a trip to the cabin seemed like a great idea for revitalizing my spirits and reminding myself of some of the things (other than running) which I like to do.

So I drove over to the Salmon La Sac snow-park and found one of the last parking spots in a huge lot full of snowmobile trailers. I knew going in that there were going to be alot of noisy stinky machines around but I was a little surprised about how full the lot was. The ski in was fairly uneventfull except for the 33 times a sledhead sped by me, revelling in unadulterated mechanical happiness. During these passings I cowered on the right side of the trail hopeing that the sledders hadn't yet drunk their fill and could still manage to avoid me, because there is no way in hell I could have avoided them! Later on the ski-out a few sledders slowed when passing and gave some waves. It was nice to know that they wanted to be courteous, but the funny thing is that I really didn't feel like there was much genuine courteousness! For one thing it is hard to detect courteousness from a shreiking mass hurtling by at 30 miles per hour. But more importantly, I am not really sure how a wave and a slight slowing is going to improve their reputation when seen from the eyes of a non-sledding trail user. I can't imagine any normal person (including sledders without sleds) actually being able to enjoy the company of sleds on a multiple use trail. At least to me it seems like multiple use trails for sleds and others are totally inappropriate. But we live in an imperfect world, so what are you gonna do?

Anyway I got to the cabin and truly enjoyed some solitude once the hornets(sledders) had left for the day. Sitting on the deck with nothing but snow, trees and mountains around did wonders for my attitude and my spirit! It was a little lonely being at the cabin by myself but it was extremely rejuvenating to build a fire, make some dinner on the camp stove and do some reading, surrounded by perfect silence.

On sunday I did a little bit of skiing on the mountain above the cabin and then quickly returned to civilization a little more relaxed and alot less frustrated. I am going to take my time and try to heal from my injuries. There is no point in doing some half-ass workouts and hopeing that my leg will heal. I will slowly build-up the miles and the fun. Probably before I know it I will again be trying to run back to back 20 mile trail runs!