Busy Elves have wrought it

Mileage: 71
Days: 8
Remaining: 82
Average Daily Mileage: 8.9

My Schwinn road bike has a terminal squeak. The "carbon fiber" (plastic) fork is contacting the aluminum head tube and making a horrible, unending squeak. I tried pouring a bunch of oil onto the affected region. It helps for about five minutes, then the squeak is back. So after work today I put together the 'ole Rivendell for the daily ride. When I say put together, I mean: play musical pedals and saddle. I have a single pair of Speedplay mountain bike pedals, which I love (total free outward heel rotation = happy knees). Those get swapped around every time I ride. And whichever bike I want to ride, it's pretty much guaranteed to be lacking a saddle. I have four bikes and three Brooks B.52 saddles. Musical saddles, except there's an extra bike, so there goes the analogy.
On the bike and down the road, the stark differences between Rivendell and Schwinn were immediately obvious (Ironical aside here: this is a Waterford-build Rivendell, and Waterford is run by Richard Schwinn, and they used to build the high-end Schwinn Paramounts). The Schwinn is twitchy. The first thing I do after hopping on is nearly fall off. The thing must have angles for crit riding. Another sad/bad thing about biking: all this racing crap coming over into the recreational biking world where is has no place, and makes recreational riders miserable, and at worst hate their bikes and maybe stop riding. After some miles I get used to the crazy nature of the geometry of the bike, and it's not bad to ride. Of course, in Houston riding is mostly in a flat, straight line. On the Rivendell, I notice several things. Stability. I can immediately (and indefinitely) ride no-hands, whereas on the Schwinn I can't ride no-hands for more than a second or two. On the Riv, from the cockpit, I can see a big fat front wheel in front of my handlebars. At first it seems like that wheel is wayyy out there. No doubt part of the secret of the stability. The Riv felt a bit slow too, but then I realized it has real road gearing, with race-inspired 42/52 up front and a pretty small 8-spd Campy cassette. This adds up to spending more time in the bottom 3-4 gears. The Schwinn has mountain-bike inspired gearing, with a triple and probably a 36-ish middle ring. Tonight I turned right and rode TH Park to the beltway. This bike path has several tight turns and swoops. On the first one I noticed that the bottom bracket felt rather low (Rivs are known for this). Through corners I'd pedal on the Schwinn, I was coasting on the Riv with the inside crank up. But that is probably a matter of my comfort level, not anything wrong with the bike. Last year when I rode out at the velodrome in Cullen Park, the alarm bells were clanging inside my head the entire time, letting me know that my outside pedal was quite close to the cement. It's amazing to me how that becomes ingrained and automatic to the point of feeling like an instinct. One last comment about Riv: I shifted way less, as it has down-tube full-friction shifters.

A map of my area with my two main rides. Click on the image for a much larger view. The pinkish line = Terry Hershey Park ride. The blue line (which was orange in AI...) = the Barker-Clodine ride. I-10 is along the top of the image, Beltway 8 is along the right side, and the Westpark Tollway along the bottom. Any guess which ride is more fun?

Ride

...a giant nuclear furnace

Mileage: 55.5
Remaining: 944.5
Days: 7
Remaining: 83
Average Daily Mileage: 7.9

Today was a two-snake ride out on the normal "route". 15 miles. My mileage isn't going so well...

This weekend Debi and I parked out at the turn-around point on Barker-Clodine and road out toward Katy. A nice trail, and a nice day -- but the sun is getting hot. You can tell summer is approaching when it's only 75 F but the sun makes it feel like 90. We rode around some neighborhoods looking at houses and watching how the neighborhoods change.

That's all the riding I got in this weekend. Hopefully a few consecutive 15-mile evening rides will bring me back up to my daily average. I feel like a kid procrastinating on his reading homework, each day thinking "well, I can finish the book if I can read 300 pages each day...".

During the day at work I think of all these things to blog about, but then I sit down here at night and nothing comes to mind. Work is work, I don't want to blog too much about that, might get in trouble.

Sunday late afternoon Debi and Mary left and I went into super yard mode. I mowed, edged, blew the clippings into the street, fertilized the grass, watered, trimmed, and vacuumed. It felt good. The yard looks pretty good except under the magnolia tree (too much shade?) and in the places where I chopped down into the turf with the mower. Interesting how something that doesn't really matter, and doesn't last (a mowed lawn) is so satisfying to accomplish...

Nausicaa

King of the bike path

Mileage: 30
Remaining: 970
Days: 3
Remaining: 87
Average Daily Mileage: 10

On the second ride, it almost seemed routine. I did the "fifteen miler" out along the north side of Barker Reservoir. The wind was strong and from the south. The entire way, the headset on my bike squeaked horribly. It was soooo annoying. I put some oil on it after my last ride to try and fix the problem. Took me about an hour, but no where near as fun as the first time. Still, I feel like my world has expanded... a little more grey is filled in with roads and trails on that map in my mind. The map that all geologists (and adventurers, and probably map-makers) have in their heads.
This here first picture is looking due east, back the way I'd come. The buildings in the distance are those of West Lake, where I work. In a few weeks I'm moving from the building on the right (West Lake 3) to the short building in the middle with the pinkish windows (West Lake 2). I'll be on the 13th floor and have a view to the south, of WL3, the pond, and the various roads. Should be much better than my current view of the A/C units atop the parking garage.
Lookin' west out toward Katy. One could like in Katy and commute to work, but it's quite a haul, and it rains a lot in Houston.
Heading south on Barker-Clodine. Much more wooded than I had expected. No snakes tonight -- instead, hundreds of caterpiller worm things.

In other (and more important) news, Debi became a citizen yesterday! After hours of grueling interviews and force-feeding of cheeseburgers and fries, then more hours of waiting, she took her oath on Wednesday morning. Now she can vote! To celebrate we went to the 59 Diner (American) at our favorite little area in Montrose, then went over to Empire Cafe for coffee.

The Thousand-Mile Challenge

It's getting Houston-y out there. About 80 degrees and foggy-misty humid. It feels really beautiful -- reminiscent of a summer day in Michigan, early.. when it's not too warm but it's humid and dewing. Last week I began riding my bike after work, now that we have some light after work. The first day hurt. My knees and butt, it felt like I was falling apart. I felt all awkward and weird on the bike. I went about eight miles. The next day I rode ten miles and felt much better. The third day I went from my house all the way to the Beltway along Terry Hershey Park. That's about 12 miles. But while TH Park isn't boring, it's become a bit routine. So on Sunday Debi and I went on an adventure ride. We rode under I-10 and along the Katy Freeway frontage road, then past ConocoPhillips and along the levee. Then back atop the levee. It's fun to explore these unknown places so close to home. Today (Tuesday) I set off on a ride as it was getting dark. I didn't have a destination, but when I hit TH Park I turned left toward Katy. I rode along the north side of the reservoir, past Subaru and then down Barker Clopine Road. It was quite a surprise, very wooded and lovely alongside the path. A dilapidated bridge crosses over Buffalo Bayou. I turned around at a parking lot that is very close to the shooting range where I was on Friday and Saturday for the COP sporting clays contest. The weather was weird and wonderful, with big threatening clouds and the setting sun poking through moodily. At the turn-around point it was getting quite dark and I flipped on my flashy headlight. On B-C road I passed three snakes! I also saw a deer along the path. Suddenly the trail was deserted (previously I was seeing riders every few minutes) and the rain started. I high-tailed it home.

Too bad my bike is a piece of junk. It's a $500 Schwinn that I bought to replace my stolen Tirreno. It's familiar to me now: I go out on a ride and have a blast, and I want to buy a lovely new bike. Classic geometry, steel road bike... maybe one of Rivendell's new creations. But it's too easy to just go buy one. And there are too many things I want to go and buy. So I thought up the Thousand-Mile Challenge. Rules: ride 1,000 miles and I get to buy a new road bike. The 1,000 miles must be done in 90 days (so just over 11 miles per day average). The Challenge began today. I'm at 15 miles.

Era of the Forgotten Camera

I've had a number of adventures lately, but few pics to prove it. Today Debi, Mary and I went to Double Lake Recreation Area, up near Coldspring, TX and Lake Livingston. It rained like crazy yesterday, but the ghorba website said this place was sandy and actually improves with some rain. Double Lake is a nice little place, almost deserted on this Sunday afternoon. Sabkha stayed at home because I thought it would be hot and didn't want to leave her in the car while we rode. We took two mountain bikes and the Burly-esque trailer of Debi's. Then we bombed down singletrack with Mary in tow in the trailer! It was great fun. I only clipped a tree once. Most of the time Mary was yelling "faster, faster!". We rode maybe 7 or 8 miles of singletrack and Debi commented on how fun it was. It reminded me of Michigan. Slightly sandy singletrack with some roots but few other obstacles. There were some really muddy sections. The mud sprayed off my rear wheel and covered the front of the trailer so Mary could barely see. After 8 miles I was pretty beat. We drove past L. Livingston, which is quite large to the point of being somewhat impressive. It felt like a long drive back, but this place deserves a camping weekend sometime soon. And I only rode through two small spider webs!

Some links to more exciting blogs

It's been a long time. I moved back to Arizona in April. I finished my PhD in August. With my dad's help, I moved all my stuff to Houston. I started work in September. I finally found an acceptable house and bought it in October. My first scientific paper was published in January (link to pdf).

Hey, look at that garage!

There are others in Houston who are longing for adventure.

There are others longing for the sky. (Ok, a little poetic license there, I'm not really longing for the sky, although I'm planning to start for my private pilot's license soon).

Today I rode my bike out along the levee of the Barker Reservoir, just 2000' west of my house. I'll post some pictures of the swamp here sometime. Excited?

Tomorrow I go to a ranch near Bandera, TX for a business meeting. I'm excited to see a little topography!

Yesterday I discovered a pipe was leaking water into my attic. (No link for that).

This blog needs a new name... ok, now it's got one.

Internal friction

Is this hub not beautiful?

36-hole, 8 speed internal hub. Weighs about three pounds and inside, it's somewhat like an automatic car transmission. Isn't it? Well, this one isn't automatic. But it has tons of cool planetary gears inside. Probably. I just wanted to write "planetary gears".

I've been annoyed with my derailleur recently. I saw a bike with just one front chainring, and 8 in the back. That's a good way to go. The internal hub would rule if it had the same mechanical efficiency as a standard setup, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't. Also, the hub weighs more, but you do save with no derailleur and no cassette. It's probably almost a wash.

Unfortunately Shimano says these aren't robust enough for off-road racing, and I'll extend that to mean off-road riding. And the lower mech. efficiency makes them not so attractive. Still, I've been thinking about Nexus hubs for days, so now I want a bike with this setup.

Soon I will have a garage, and a house I actually live in (instead of a house 1000 miles away that I don't live in but still get to pay the mortgage on). Then perhaps if I figure out the bike trail system in Houston I can ride my 8 speed internal to my heart's content.

Hey, those flames aren't painted on!

Last night around 11:30 PM I heard the fire alarm go off in the neighboring apartment building. I went outside and at first didn't see anything, but then I noticed some black smoke. So I went back in, grabbed my camera and went out into the parking lot.It was a Ford F-150 on fire. This is the first shot I took, although the flames didn't seem that big at the time. Soon after, the front tires of the truck exploded. The owner of the truck was there and had pulled the fire alarm because he didn't have a cell phone on him. Someone called 911.
The owner had tried to put out the fire with a small extinguisher. It didn't work. We waited and watched the flames get larger. There were vehicles parked on either side of the F-150: an Accord to the left and a new Jeep Grand Cherokee to the right. At this point they look ok. (See the bright lit-up side of the Jeep, not burning at this point.)
Over the next two minutes the flames spread rapidly over the F-150 and more tires exploded. The flames flared up and began to spread to the Jeep on the right.
The Jeep caught fire very quickly. I had been watching the F-150 burn for about 3-4 minutes, but after the Jeep caught on fire it was burning rather well after only 30-45 seconds. I moved to the other side of the building and got this shot, where you can see the Jeep going up. At this point we heard the fire engine sirens in the distance and presently the engine went by on Eldridge toward the apartment complex entrance.
The fire truck pulled in and the firefighters walked right up to the burning vehicles.
Within two to three seconds, the main part of the fire was out as the three firefighters sprayed water on the blaze. At least, it looked like water and not foam.
They continued to spray water and smashed out the windows to spray water inside the Jeep. Then they opened the hoods and doors one by one, unleashing little pockets of flame and hosing them down.
It was all over that fast. Unfortunately it turned out that the Accord and Jeep both belonged to the same guy. The Accord suffered some burn damage on the headlights but otherwise looked driveable. The Jeep was probably totaled. The engine had burned extensively and the hood had a large hole in it. The F-150, also "totaled", looked relatively intact despite the fact that it had burned five or six times longer.

Dissertate

My first scientific paper got accepted today, "with significant revisions". I tried to work on it but got overwhelmed. I need to finish the second paper, which is in rough shape. I read it over last night and it needs lots of work. The reviewers (2) did a good job. They made some good points, especially about some work I didn't cite. Now I have mucho work to do on that... Here are some dates for you to consider. The deadline to defend my dissertation is April 20th. I should have my dissertation to my five advisors about a month before that (so they can read it and hopefully sign the form saying it's ok to defend). So that is March 20th. Slightly over three weeks. My third paper isn't really started. I have the idea, I have the data. Can I pull this together in three weeks? My internship ends on April 13th. Then (if I'm finishing this semester) I scramble back to Tucson to defend the next week. Then the actual formatted dissertation is due to the Grad College on May first. Yikes. Yikes. I think I can do it. My motivation is: a job offer will be contingent on finishing the degree. So if not done in May, I'll have to wait until August. A forced 3-month vacation, and a hiatus from a paycheck. That will be a little tight.

Mine Klein

I walk at night up to some vacant land at Eldridge and Briar Forest. Sab gets to run around there. I can see the buildings at Westlake lit up. They look like rockets ready for takeoff.

I paid 60 bucks to get my Klein adjusted and cleaned up. I don't have any of my tools or cleaning equipment in Houston. They did a decent job.
Back in the day, I used to really love my bikes. My first "good" mountain bike was a Bridgestone MB-6. How I drooled over that thing! I still have the frame, which is now powder-coated a grass green color. I like my Klein. It's a great, light bike. The shock is so supple and smooth. But I don't drool over the Klein. I should. What happened to the magic of childhood? Sometimes I do still taste it... it comes in a flash and is gone as quickly.

Houston

The news from Houston:

Work with the big oil company is good. I like my work. I have my own office. They change the trash everyday. My colleagues are competent, hardworking, and friendly.

I'm trying to finish my PhD this semester. This will mean wrapping up two papers in the next month, then defending a few days after my intership.

In my scads of free time, I went to Fry's Electronics and bought a cool Japanese toy kit. I assembled it and *presto* I have a bulldozer. It's controlled by a wired remote. It's fun to drive around. I was able to pick up this plastic burger. Yum!I've been exploring Houston. Despite my attempts to hate the town, I like it. Things I've done in the first month: sailing racing yacht on Galveston bay, Mozart Opera, Ginger Man bar, several restaurants, Millie Bush dog park, made movie with new vid cam, swamping in Barker Reservoir, reading "Battleship Earth", Orienteering near Conroe (a few hours late), 18 holes of golf near Austin (a first), lots of decent mountain biking nearby, running, flying lesson (see previous entry).

Running. After my attempt at a marathon 3.5 years ago, I haven't done much of that. Here I am about to go out into the balmy night, earlier tonight. Note the poster picture of the Galiuro Mts.
Sabkha is hanging in there. She wants a yard. Here she is, scarfing some chop-chop.

Flying

I’m living in Houston, Texas, temporarily – trying a job with a major oil company. The big question on my mind is “can I live in Houston, or will I go crazy?”. After almost six years in Tucson with its myriad outdoor activities, can I survive in the fourth largest city in the US? Traffic, pollution, humidity. And what is there to do in Houston? Plenty, I’ve found out – but you have to look around. In Tucson it’s easy to decide what to do each weekend. Just jump in the car and head to the mountains. Hike. 1-2-3. It’s almost too easy, and it becomes routine. Pine trees smell nice and scenic vistas are wonderful, but they eventually get boring and then you need to shake it up. Moving to Houston has pushed me to explore new avenues of adventure beyond hiking and biking.

As a geologist, I’ve learned to love landscapes. Every little hill or furrow or swale tells a story of times gone by, of rivers and lakes and oceans sloshing across the land (nearly all rocks are deposited by water or underwater). Geologists usually have a map in their head showing where they are. They can usually point to north without hesitation. They get lost, like everyone, but they can always spot a far-off landmark or initiate a search pattern to find a known position. Such are the ways of the geologist’s mind.

In the West, the landscape is imminent. It is there in your face in its sharp-edged and thorny harshness. It presses upon you and enters your mind. In the summer, thunderstorms crash across the sky 100 miles away and you can see the show. On clear days from a mountaintop you can see halfway across the state, or more. And Arizona is not a narrow state.

In the East, the horizon comes in close and crowds you. Your ceiling is the trees instead of the heavens. The farthest you can see is the nearest wall or hedge or group of buildings. Sometimes you can catch sight of a water tower or skyscraper five miles off. How to regain this sense of space and this vision of the horizon? In the West, topography gives distance to our view. So to gain this vision in the East, you need to gain some altitude. The obvious (though not the only) way to do this is to fly in an airplane.

All of the above propelled me to an airfield about ten miles from my apartment in west Houston. I met my friend Matt, who had come along for the ride, and we found the instructor Jake and hopped in a Piper. Jake went through preflight steps very quickly, but I recognized much of the routine from reading the Private Pilot Handbook (Christmas gift from parents – thanks ‘rents). The exterior of the plane was nice and shiny, although a little dented here and there. It looked almost brand-new. Climbing into the interior of the plane was like getting into a junky old car. I was surprised at the rattiness of the seats and the obvious wear and tear on the fixtures and instrument panel. My memory was cast back to high school and riding with friends in $250 cars. The 1976 Ford van I owned for a short while also came into mind. Jake cranked the engine and the plane shuddered as the engine roared to life. Again, reminiscent of those old junk cars. Still, I was telling myself several things, listing them mentally: 1) this is a training plane, it gets a lot of use; 2) this is the cheapest training field in Houston (at least, the cheapest one that bothers to have a website); 3) planes get a lot of careful inspection; and 4) my instructor probably doesn’t want to die, he knows way more than I about flying, and he’s flying this thing.

We taxied to the far end of the field and took off in a strong (15+ mph) crosswind. The plane shuddered into the sky. Speaking on the headsets took some getting used to but was strangely fun, since it removed the need for shouting. We headed northwest toward the “Salt Mines”. I was surprised at the amount of open land and farm fields. (From the ground, when you look around it seems like there are many buildings because you’re looking laterally. From the air you see all the hidden open spaces. These tend not to be near roads, where it’s more built up. For the same reason, when looking at urban or suburban areas with Google Earth it appears there is much more vacant land than you’d guess from daily experience). We did some turns although I completely ignored the rudders, which I think the instructor was operating. It was very difficult to keep scanning the sky (for other planes) and try to read instruments. The few hours I spend on Microsoft Flight Simulator helped because I could identify all the instruments and their functions, and I knew generally how the controls worked. Still, keeping the plane level, or climbing/descending at a constant rate, steering, and watching for other planes was taking 200% of my available concentration. I was tense. Jake did most of the work for the landing – hard right rudder and hard right wheel because of the crosswind from the north.

Back in my car, I was amazed how quite and smooth it ran. Driving home on the highway seemed easy and relaxing. The third dimension (vertical) was removed, and all the controls were automatic from years of driving experience. I remember the first time I drove, and it felt much like my first time flying. I know that after a few hours of lessons I’ll have the basic controls down enough so that I can concentrate on the legions of details…

Was it a good time? Yes. It wasn’t great fun in the air but once on the ground I realized I was probably hooked. I bought a logbook and Jake logged my first half-hour of flight…

I wanna go hiking

Marching orders

The grey blanket of clouds rolled in from Mexico early Sunday morning while I slept. I awoke to Michigan in late springtime. 60's and overcast, ceiling of 5000 feet. Sabkha wanted to "go for a walk with leash", and I wanted to get out too. For some reason cleaning the house felt more appealing, and I temporarily fell victim to "I-don't-want-to-go-osis". This is a strange disease, because I spend most of the work week daydreaming about smooth granite and soaring saguaros, and wind whistling through the pines, snowflakes falling, and scaling redrock. But when the weekend comes I get housebound paralysis. A million little naggy excuses bubble up in my mind: it's a pain to bring Sab, she might get hurt. It's such a long drive. I don't know where to go, there are so many options. Finally around 4 PM I scooped up the Camelback and Sab's leash and we went out the door. Destination: either Soldier Canyon, at the first curve on the Catalina Highway (aka Hairpin) or Molino Canyon, my old standby. I vetoed Solider Cyn because of the heinous bouldering. The sky was darkening and it was sprinkling rain. Time was ticking. I saw Soldier Trail on the left and I did a U-turn.

In all my years of driving up Mt Lemmon I've never tried Soldier Canyon. It always looked boring and desertish. When you live down in the desert you want to get up into the forests. So I've never stopped here, only 500 vertical feet above Tucson, where summer temps still reach the lower 100s. Sab and I bounded up the trail and I was pleasantly surprised. After getting out of view of the road the trail follows a delightful (if small) canyon with nice outcroppings of mylonites on both sides. A little over a mile brought us to some views down into the upper part of Solider Canyon, where it splits (and Rivendale climbing area is found in the left split). From the trail down into Solider Canyon was a significant drop. Here is Sabkha peeking over the cliff, trying to think of some good reason to take a flying leap. Perhaps a squirrel in the bottom of the wash, 250 feet below?

We kept on the trail which begins to follow Soldier Canyon. Cutting back left we got a close-up look at some of the smoothed-out hollows and pools dropping down into the lower canyon. It looks difficult, although I think moderate climbers/canyoneers could get up from below. It was tough to spot how one would get down from above, as it usually is. Darkness was upon us so we high-tailed it back down the trail, running most sections. Much of the trail is smooth enough for careful downhill jogging, especially in the upper sections. Who knew Soldier Trail would be such a gem? I look forward to going farther up the trail next time.

Dry Canyon: low levels of water and enjoyment

There are so many wonderful places in the world to visit. And so little time to visit them all. That's why it's nice to know there is one place you can cross off your list: Dry Canyon in the Whetstone Mountains near Benson, AZ. Sabkha and I took a little Sunday afternoon jaunt out there today. We bypassed Kartchner Caverns State Park and French Joe Canyon, both right off AZ-90. I've been to French Joe a few times with Physical Geology field trips. It's a nice canyon with mature trees and often has flowing water. It must be the highlight of the eastern Whetstones. Pass French Joe and keep going about 3 miles. You'll see the impressive Paleozoic limestone cliffs to the west, and you can think of Rich Thompson, who found his dinosaur (Sonorasaurus) right on the other side of the crest. The main prominent cliff-rimmed quasi-butte is called "The Cape". Pass all this by and take a right on the next gravelly road that heads up toward Dry Canyon. At first the view is disappointing. Prepare yourself for more of the same. The hills are low and desert-covered. Nasty pokey vegetation promulgates across the land. Sure, it looks soft and fluffy from a few miles away -- but up close it's all catclaw and shindaggers and rattlesnake fangs.

The road did offer some entertainment. Overall I'd rate it a "Class 3", with much of it drivable in a passenger car (Class 2), but some washed-out sections where most cars would turn back unless you're the type to beat up on your vehicle because you hate it, or because it's a rental. One wash in particular caused me to scrape my rear bumper coming and going ('04 Subaru Forester). Also there are some pokey rocks. High- or medium-clearance recommended. Up the road a ways, perhaps 3-4 miles up from AZ-90, a view opens up to the right of limestone cliffs, with the beds dipping 25-30 degrees to the west. Sab and I went for a short stroll in the desert, which was rather hot and unpleasant. My climbing partner Mike has mentioned a limestone climbing area called "The Dry" that I think must be farther up the canyon to the right (Dry Canyon proper). We hopped back in the car and drove through Rain Pass and up 83. All the scenery we could see when we weren't blinded by the almost-setting sun was washed out by its blasting rays. Still, it was nice to get out of town. And to cross one more place off the list. No need to return to Dry Canyon.

I'm back

When my contract with Pair ran out, I took down sabkha.com and my two blogs, Encounters with Stupidity and this one. I'm trying to finish my graduate degree something before next May, and I thought I didn't need the distraction. But when searching Google recently for some info on hikes and climbs in S. Arizona, I kept getting Sabkha.com as the top results. Also, I miss writing up my adventures. So back I am, on blogspot now. Hopefully readers can find me. Eventually Google will pick this up. Until I get some new posts up here from recent adventures -- such as Molino and Soldier Canyons, and a snowy trip to the White Mountains, AZ -- check out this awesome site: Todd's Hiking. His "trips" section covers several fun excursions to S. Utah, doing technical canyoneering. I wanna go! Also, he's done something I've long wanted to do: rent a boat and cruise around Lake Powell, hitting side canyons and doing day hikes / backpacking from the boat. I wish Sabkha was into technical climbing... I think they have dog harnesses for that... but it's nasty and unethical to bring dogs into most slot canyons. So, loyal readers (whoever you are), s'more adventures will be back up here soon. Also, I'm probably moving soon away from the lovely land of southern Arizona to either: a) Houston, to work for a Big Oil Company, or b) Nevada, to work for a Big Mining Company. A distant c) is South Africa. In any case, I guess I'll have to change this blog to Here and There in [fill in the blank]. South Africa would be the most entertaining, Houston the most lucrative, and Nevada the most in-between.

Molino Canyon

Several people have asked me recently about hiking trails near Tucson. So I wrote up a little guidelet and sent it to them. Much of the hiking here seems obvious and straightforward, but that’s because I know most of the trails. For a newcomer approaching a range for the first time, it’s hard to know what to do, or what is worth doing. When I’m traveling I often feel overwhelmed by a new area. The current Tucson hiking guides are ok. Last time I looked them over was a year or so ago at a local bookstore. I browsed through the section. Two things I definitely didn’t notice were an off trail hiking guide and a dog hiking guide. Of course, in the latter case, Arizona appears to have a statewide dog leash law, which means hiking with a dog pretty much sucks anywhere. But I think there is big potential for the first idea: an off-trail guide, or “adventure guide” to southern Arizona. Since I often hike “with dog”, I like to go to unpopular areas where no one will be bothered by my dog. I like desolate hikes anyway, which is why Samaniego Ridge and Red Ridge are some of my favorites. Recently I’ve discovered some great canyon hikes in the lower Catalinas. Check out my new online guide to “Off-trail hiking in the Santa Catalina Mountains, Arizona”. The guide will grow as I discover new favorite places and as time permits. After December 2006 or May 2007 (when I finish my PhD), the guide may grow much more and may even become a book. Ahhh, canyoneering everyday… sounds good to me.

In other news, days are getting long enough in Tucson to do evening hikes. Today I worked until 5:00 PM, drove home and picked up Sab, threw some water into a pack and drove out to Molino Basin. In light traffic the drive takes less than 30 minutes. On the way out the low-angle light of the sinking sun brought out the horizontal relief of the Catalina’s front range. Normally the south-facing range is so blasted with desert light that one can’t see any horizontal relief. Anyway, the ridge was popping out like mad as I drove up the approach to the Catalina Highway. After parking at Molino, we high-tailed it up-canyon, past the “falls”, past the side canyon to the left, past “House Rock” and into the Zone of the Large Boulders. It was great fun and we made good time rock-hopping and keeping our movements dynamic. As we reached Creepy Rock Garden (which must be bypassed to the left unless you and your dog have some bouldering skills), the few clouds above turned pink and we turned around. Down was almost slower than up. I felt the eyes of mountain lions upon my back. Driving back down the mountain was a joy. Almost zero traffic. Do you use your brakes coming down Mt Lemmon? You don’t need to. Going between 3^rd and 4^th gears (with an automatic), I easily make it down all the way without exceeding ~40 mph. I touched my brakes once. It wasn’t even a challenge. A few years ago in Rocky Mt NP, with friend Steve’s 4Runner, we went from a high parking lot about 15 miles (?) to a campsite without touching brakes OR gas. That was fun. I’m not saying drive dangerous, just control your speed in advance of corners by downshifting, and perhaps braking slightly before the corner. We made it home around 7:45, making it 2.25 hours door to door for a ~3.5 mile hike in an awesome, deserted, and fairly remote canyon. Tucson does have some perks!

Valley to Summit: A Mount Lemmon Odyssey

Yesterday I finally completed one of my "epic" dream hikes: from the valley (Oro Valley, in this case) to the summit of Mount Lemmon, the highest peak near Tucson (~9200 feet [2850 m]). My alarm clock went off at 6 a.m., way too early. I picked up friend Hinako and her friends Javier and Paulina (from Japan, Spain and Mexico, respectively). We drove up to Catalina State Park and paid our $10 for an "overnight" parking pass. From the trailhead (2700' [823 m]) we could see our destination: the pine-shrouded top of Mt. Lemmon, 6500 feet [2000 m] overhead. The morning was chilly and overcast; we all donned our jackets and gloves, if we had them. A quick map stop oriented us all to the lay of the land and the route of the hike ahead. We then marched toward the mountain across the coarse alluvial gravels along the north side of Pusch Ridge. Saguaro stands defined our first biozone: Sonoran desert. Along the trail we also spotted a white-tailed rabbit (aka hop-hop) and a few insects. After a mile on the gravel we abruptly came to pink granitic rock outcrops, and the trail began to climb. Here the trail is often directly on rock, rough and steep in places. Suddenly everyone felt very warm and we stopped to remove our excess clothing. The trail reaches a crude saddle point then descends into Romero Canyon proper. Depending on which map/sign you believe, Romero Pools are 2.2 or 2.8 miles from the parking lot. The pools used to be very deep in places, but were filled in by debris flows caused by a torrential rainfall event in the area about 3 years ago, shortly after the Bullock (summer 2002) or Aspen (summer 2003) fire. (My friend Dave Maher tells me of jumping off high rocks into some of the pools - thus they were 20+ feet deep.) Despite the very dry current conditions in southern Arizona, Romero Creek was running very slightly and nourishing a nice green slime colony. A few larger pools sit downstream from where the trail crosses the canyon. Here we paused for a brief rest and snack, admiring the polished shapes of the canyon rocks. Moving on we had a brief respite from climbing as we crossed a flat "meadow" area traversed by Romero Creek. A few small waterfalls (with trickles of water!) provided some variation in the scenery. Soon the trail turned up again as we climbed into the upper reaches of Romero Canyon, toward Romero Pass. The trail left the canyon bottom and hugged the left (North) wall. To the south the looming canyon wall is made up of a few huge planar surfaces, giving the canyon a "hewn" appearance, as if it had been made by the hands of men. Looking down on Romero Creek we could see that the canyon narrows and winds upstream almost to the point of being a slot canyon. A good destination for another day. Also, high on the canyon walls were a few benches large enough to support an acre or so of forest. I imagined climbing up there and making a little shelter and living there, a hermit on a perch with a nice vista of Oro Valley. The trail became steeper and less well marked, in places covered with brush and fallen branches, apparently due to the fire(s) in this area (how do fires produce so much unburned brush? I suppose during the fire, it was living material. The tree was killed by the fire, then the branches dried out and became tinder. Javier (biologist) expects another fire soon.) The saddle was visible above us as we climbed the last calf-burning half mile. As we crested the saddle we were greeted with a blasting wind from the east and a panoramic view: the west fork of Sabino Canyon, the north side of the "front range" of the Catalinas, much of the Catalina high terrain, and the Rincon Mountains beyond. A lunch stop was in order. As we dined, Javier and I lay on our backs and watched the sky. Dotted with cumulus clouds which raced overhead, the sky eventually cleared to a nearly unblemished azure blue. Hinako pulled out the trail map which flapped like a flag in a gale. Eventually she got it under control and found our elevation to be 6000' [1850 m], 2300' above the trailhead but still 3200' below Mt. Lemmon. To our north we could see a boulder-strewn escarpment capped with progressively larger pine trees. On the other side of this escarpment was the Wilderness of Rocks. After lunch we started up this, the steepest sustained section of the entire hike. I huffed and puffed in the rarified air. Our pace slowed. Tunnel vision began to overtake me as I stared down at my boots, oblivious to the natural beauty around me. Then I caught a whiff of fresh pine scent and was rejuvinated and reawakened. We had entered the forest, 3500 feet above the valley floor below. We crested the plateau and then began a short descent into Wilderness of Rocks. An isolated pile of oso droppings added a bit of excitement to our descent. Wilderness of Rocks is a fairly flat area surround by rounded granite boulders and spires. It is not as spectacular as places like Chirachua NM or Bryce NP, but then it's different rock, too. The area was quite dry and not as scenic as I remember it (from 4 years ago) because of damage done by the fire(s). At the base of the Lemmon Rock Lookout trail we had to make a decision: short and steep (LRT) or longer and more scenic (Marshall Gulch)? I voted for LRT, since I wanted to actually summit the mountain. Marshall Gulch isn't the tippy-top. Just as we were deciding which route to take, two hikers sporting charcoal-stained faces stumbled down from the LRT. They warned us that the route was unmarked, confusing and perhaps blocked by fire debris. We directed them toward Marshall Gulch or the Aspen trail, and off they went. Against their recommendation, we headed up the LRT. Towering overhead we could see the summit rocks, brilliant white in the sinking late-afternoon sun. On one of the easternmost rocks I could make out the Lemmon Rock lookout, a small fire post building. As we continued to climb, the trail gradually got steeper and less travelled. Finally it made a sharp turn and disappeared into faint footmarks among the pine needles. All four of us scrambled around the hillside like Orienteers looking for a misplaced control point, sans compasses or decent maps. Finally we decided to head uphill cross-country, since we could see the lookout building perhaps 1/3 of a mile away and we knew the trail went to the west of it. After crashing through some brush and shimmying past some rocks, we came upon the trail. The sun's rays were tinted orange and the mood turned sharply from afternoon to evening as we stumbled up to the two-track leading to Lemmon Rock Lookout. At the lookout Javier snapped a few cliffside shots of the whole group, with the Rincons, Santa Ritas, Whetstones and Huachucas in the background. Although the atmosphere was hazy, we could see Babquivori and Kitt Peak, the Atacosas and 'Ritas to the south, and the Pinaleños (and beyond) to the east. A cold wind began to blow and we again donned our cool-weather gear, having come full circle, temperature-wise. The last mile to the top is along an old dirt road. At the top, having reached the scenic parking lot and power station, we chowed down the remainder of our comida and gave Victor a call so he'd come pick us up. Darkness fell among the pines and we huddled in the cold. I thought of the pie and warm coffee only four miles away in Summerhaven. We walked down the road toward the ski area and finally Victor, our hero, pulled up with a 12-pack of cold cervasas.

Colorado's San Juans, August 2004

I left Tucson around noon on Friday and drove to Colorado. I took US 60 north of Tucson through Globe and Show Low. This is a terrible stretch of road, especially north of Globe. It winds through a lovely canyon area, which is beautiful, but winds is the key word. Hills are short and steep and corners seem unnecessarily sharp. It is quite a workout for your vehicle, at least for the underpowered Forester with the AC running. This may be a fun drive for scenic value, but I was trying to get to Colorado, and all the online map services said this was the shortest route. I took my time, stopped in Holbrook (along I-40) and had chicken strips from a run-down side-street Dairy Queen. The most horrible fast food meal I’ve ever had. Sabkha ate most of it as we sat at a local park. After awhile heading east on the interstate, we went north up New Mexico 666 (renamed 451 or something). We passed Ship Rock, and two other cool monoliths close to the road, as the sun was setting. Some mountains were vaguely visible to the north. Passed through Cortez, CO in the dark and it certainly didn’t feel like the cool Colorado mountains (yet). It felt like the hot AZ/NM desert and the Indian reservation. Checked out one campsite (as indicated on the CO Gazzetteer) but turned out to be a no camping area. Two other marked campsites were full, and charging $18 a night! (Nat Forest campgrounds, but run but private company). Angry and tired, thinking how typical this is of my trips (didn’t plan ahead of course), I drove several miles up a gravel road before giving up. Finally I pulled into a state hunting area (camping prohibited!) and just slept in the car (for a quick getaway in case a ranger showed up). The back of the Forester is just big enough for me to sleep ok, with the seats down. Woke up early, snapped a few photos and got outta there. Headed up the highway toward Telluride, stopping at Lizard Head pass and taking photos of the 14-er nest to the west, including Lizard Head peak (not a 14er). Good future hike, but of course there was a horse trailer there (Sab has problem attacking horses). Drove into Telluride and hung out. Yuppy place but it started to grow on me. Got some decent coffee, postcards, drove around town. Finally left to find a camp spot. The sun set around 7 pm, so I needed to be at a decent site by 5 to cook some food and set up the tent before dark. And after dark, it’s a bit scary to do anything, especially if it involves food, because you can’t see anything, and Sab barks at anything. I’m afraid of bears. We drove up a road south of Telluride. About 7 miles up the road, well over 11,000 feet elevation, we camped in a cirque with a nice lake, and lots of other rough-it car-camper types in 4WD’s (the road was only a class 2 in my book). Beautiful place! Back down to Telluride the next day. Got some coffee, took the gondola up the mountain (and down to Mountainview) (or was that on day one?). Hiked up to Bridal Veil falls on gravel roads with Sab. Lots of drivers and motorcycles and bikers. Wonderful area, fun Jeep stuff like a one-way over B Bear pass into Telluride. Back down, got some rain. Hit the road west out of then NE out to Ridgway on 550. Nice view of the other side of Sneffels (14er north of Telluride). Got a slice of pizza in Ridgway (didn’t eat much at all on this trip) and south through Ouray. Checked out a few $12 campgrounds. Found several free areas on the road west of Silverton. Camped near a nice river. Next day hiked up to Ice Lake (3.5 mi one way). Sab had such a great time! She is inexhaustible. I was tired and winded. Made it to the lakes around 12000 feet. I was puffing. A storm blew up and we hiked down mostly in the rain. The hardest 7 mile hike I’ve ever done? The only real hike of this entire trip!! Checked out Silverton, ate at Brown Bear Café (this is afternoon after the hike). Sab was only moderately tired. Back north to Ridgway, were my “service engine” light came on! So I called Subaru number and went north to Montrose, 20k-ish community on the plains north of the San Juans. Subaru dealer said 8am Tuesday (the next day) they could check it out. I found a wonderful coffee place on main ave (Coffee Trader) with a great side yard with trees. Overall Montrose had a nice midwesternly feel – sort of. Stayed at a nice clean hotel for $45 (not cheap, but it’s tourist season!) on Main also. Pets no prob. Nice to be inside and take shower, sleep without (neurotic) fear of bears. Watched Olympics. Next day went to dealer – rodents chewed hoses on vapor capture system – not a big deal. Then drove east in the plains to Gunnison, a nice little town. Ate a mediocre Mexican place. Drove south back into San Juans. Rain. Stayed at pay campground $8 – but no bears “this summer”, so I felt more at ease and slept ok. Next day sab ran off after deer but came back quickly. We began to mosey home to Tucson via New Mexico. Near Los Alamos, I called Kim Tait but didn’t answer, finally she did so I went there. Went hashing with local group (her first time). Stayed there. Next day (yesterday) got coffee and burrito and hung out a bit, then had lunch with Kim, Romanian guy and two other silent engineers at LANL at Hill Diner. Mediocre chow. He told stories of driving his Porshe fast and getting pulled over. I left, went west (the loooong way through the mountains) and made a dash for home through some spotty but cool-to-watch steppe thunderstorms. Got home at “11 pm” but then discovered it was only 10 (AZ time).

Upcoming Blog Events...

I need to write and post several blogs. They are coming. Most urgent are Cyprus and Washington State blogs, from May and July '05, respectively. That is definitely here and there (aqui and alli - my apologies for lack of accent marks). For now, however, my highest priorities are the lab course I am teaching, and my olivine research, which needs to get done so I can complete my PhD in a timely fashion. This means curtailing some activities. Blogging is one of them. Check out my other blog, Encounters with Stupidity, if you exhuast all the reading to be done on this page. The link is over there to the right in the "links" section. Or click on the title of this blog entry.

Adios para ahora.