Camping, climbing, and a real dirt bike adventure!

   After months of working, being injured, and more recently turning my brain inside out with that horrendous income tax class (yes, I admit that was a terrible idea) Kit and I finally made our escape to find some fun over Thanksgiving. Original plans were to go south to Joshua Tree and/or Bootleg Canyon near Las Vegas for climbing and mountain biking, but I still lacked a bike and Kit had to work through Wednesday so we figured it made more sense to stay closer to home and venture only a few hours south on the eastern Sierra. Being able to do anything at all gives me a whole lot to be thankful for, seeing as how a year ago I was mainly horizontal, barely able to get around the house, bored as heck and completely depressed.

   We decided to pack climbing gear and dirt bikes, as I'm beginning to turn into a real moto addict but not quite going to give up on climbing yet. However, the CRF 230 I was supposed to be riding now needed a new clutch, which was almost done but for one last part that we didn't know needed replacing until it was all taken apart 3 days before we left. The little 125 had not sold yet so we loaded it into the trailer, only then noticing that the front tire was flat--at 5:30 on Wednesday evening the day before Thanksgiving--probably impossible to get a new tube at that point and nobody would be open until at least Friday. Oh, the problems those dang machines can have!

The view from a perfect campsite.

    Oh well. Off to Bridgeport for a hot spring soak and some sleep, and we can try to at least patch the tube in the morning. Thanksgiving morning was beautiful and relatively warm at the higher elevation of Bridgeport so instead of going straight to Bishop we went southeast toward Benton and one of our favorite spots to climb and camp. Nobody else was there, of course, and we scored a spectacular camping spot among some boulders with a view of the nearby crags and the mountains off in the distance. After unpacking we set about removing the inner tube from my bike to see if it was repairable; it turned out to be a torn valve stem, not good. We still tried to fix it and may perhaps have succeeded if not for pinching the tube while re-installing the tire on the rim. At that point I just said forget it--I'll ride on the flat tire so we can go exploring a little bit. Might as well go for a short ride to work up an appetite before digging into the Moroccan lamb and root vegetable stew I prepared the previous afternoon for our Thanksgiving feast. 

Boundary Peak at the northern end of the White Mountains.

   I pulled out the map for some ideas and we got on the main dirt road heading south from the crags, looking for a road that crossed over into the valley. A few dead ends and one giant mine hole in the ground later we followed a faint double track going in the right direction until it dropped steeply into a loose rocky gully. I contemplated the steep pitch and my flat front tire, wondering if my little bike would make it back out, but as Kit disappeared down the trail I dove in figuring that we'd get out of there one way or another. After the gully the trail crossed onto a ridge with a stunning view of the White Mountains and wound down toward the valley, where I stopped to take some photos and wait for Kit to come back up the hill a few minutes later.

   It seemed like a good idea to turn around at this point and make sure we still had light to get back to camp. Getting my bike up the gully was not much of an issue, though it was quite squirrelly in the loose dirt and rocks and took a bit of effort to point the right direction. We didn't get to see where that trail ended up this time, but it will be waiting for next time we make it down there. 

   Friday morning we decided to go climbing despite forgetting to pack the guidebook for the area. There was one particular south facing wall (the Lost Piton Rock) that I remembered with a handful of fun bolted sport routes, including some very long ones, only a short ride up the road plus a five minute hike. We packed up and got on the dirt bikes to zip up the road; those are a novel climbing approach tool and I'm a big fan! 

Kit warming up on the 10a

Me battling the roof on the 10b - toprope hero!

   The climbing was just as fun and interesting as I remembered: decent quality granite with a variety of thin face moves, a crack section, giant plates, a couple of small roofs. I decided to tell my hip that I wasn't going to baby it this time, so high stepping and any other weird yoga moves that were required would all be done unless there was major pain. There was no pain and I was able to get up every climb without falling or hanging. It was great having the whole crag to ourselves as well; the climbing at Owens River Gorge is excellent, but it starts feeling like a gym at times with all the people around, having to choose climbs according to the fewest number waiting in line. It was refreshing to have such a positive experience and that really motivated both of us to try to get back on the rock more often.

   We climbed until my fingers were raw and toes hurt from squishing into tiny shoes, and then packed up camp to go in search of a motorcycle shop in Mammoth Lakes for a new inner tube and some ideas about fun places to ride. It was Friday on a holiday weekend so we were fortunate to find a place open that could help. It turns out that Bishop has the best riding in the area so that's where we ended up; camping at the windy hole in the ground Pit campground with some climbing friends from north Lake Tahoe. They tried to talk us into climbing on Saturday as Kit changed out the tube on my bike, but we were too excited to see some new trails, and not so into dealing with holiday weekend hordes of people at the Gorge. The wind was also picking up quite a bit blowing away tents, dishes, clothing, and whatever else wasn't tied down. 

   Looking at the map and remembering some of the shop employee's comments we drove to the base of the Silver Canyon road to begin, thinking it might be a scenic if not somewhat mellow ride up. As we unloaded and got ready a handful of unmodified SUVs and trucks passed and went up the canyon, and I began to think we might get terribly bored riding up that way. Inspecting the map again it seemed like we could ride south to the Black Canyon road or the Poleta OHV area and up from there to make somewhat of a loop coming back down Silver Canyon at the end. 

Somewhere around 3000 ft above the Owens Valley.

   We didn't quite make it to Black Canyon, getting slightly mixed up on dirt roads and ending up on some double track trails in the OHV area. From there we randomly chose a jeep road that started rather steeply uphill, posing some challenges for my bike but nothing impossible when wide open in first gear. Weeeeee!!! Sometimes the deep dust made it feel like I was on a swing bike, with front and back wheels pointing all different ways. Kit flew up the trail and I stubbornly putted along behind until we reached a mine burrowed into the hillside at the end of the road. 

The un-named mine up Poleta/Russell Canyon.

   We stopped for a photo and then wandered around for a minute, following some dirt bike tracks to a little trail that continued winding uphill from the mine. It looked way too intriguing to pass up so we started up it. It got a little bit technical right away and Kit asked if I wanted to keep going. My mountain bike self said sure why not, it looks totally do-able... Kit continued on and I followed, not having much trouble riding but holy moly it was exposed!! I have gotten into my fair share of sketchy situations in the past between bikes and climbing in the mountains, so I'm not easily scared, but all of those are under human power. Adding an engine into the mix makes things seem slightly more likely to go out of control. There I was, the newbie dirt bike rider trying to keep steady on a trail barely wider than my handlebars, steep hillsides above and below covered in jumbles of sharp rocks, terrified that one wrong move with the throttle or steering would tumble me down the hill with the heavy machine and--at best--into the emergency room.
   Luckily there were only a couple more slightly technical spots that I could crawl through with my feet out, and there were no steep loose hill climbs to get sideways on. Kit stopped again before the trail wrapped around the end of the canyon and asked if I was still doing all right. At that point probably about 10 minutes in there was no way in heck I wanted to turn around and go back down that! Onward! Besides it appeared as though the trail widened a little bit after crossing the canyon...

Finally at the top of the sketchy trail!

   Oops--not really. The trail got even narrower and more terrifying for the next few minutes. My right foot peg dragged in the dirt on the uphill side in some places as I tried to remind myself to take a breath now and then and to keep looking ONLY at where I wanted to go and NOT at the nearly sheer dropoff just below me with pointy rocks all over. If I was ever going to have a heart attack that would have been the place for sure, as I thought it might jump out of my chest for the entire 20 minutes or so that it took me to ride the scary part. Then to my relief the trail turned up a ridge and got steeper, but thankfully much wider. I reached the top of the climb and parked my bike, laying on the ground for a while until I could breathe normally again and chow an apple. It's been a long time since I have put myself in such a precarious situation, with the intense focus required for success, and it sure felt good to have made it through in one piece! By now I had a good idea of where we were on the map, and that we would not need to go back down that trail if we continued upward. Later internet research calls this singletrack the "woodcutter's trail" and I'm glad to not be the only one who found it quite intimidating.

Lunch break surroundings.

   I heard Kit coming back from exploring up the trail, and he had great news when he got to me: it got super fun up ahead, probably the best trail he's ridden. Hooray! I finished my snack and followed after him, weaving among bristlecone pines and colorful rocks lining the small canyon as the trail swooped back and forth. I grinned until my face hurt. We finally stopped for a break to scarf down some sandwiches partway up among the windswept trees, but couldn't wait to continue and see what else lay ahead. Most of it was mellow and uneventful; however we did upon a massive rock waterfall section about 30 feet long and quite steep, and this proved very entertaining to get Kit's bike to the top. On the first try his bike wheelied back and then tumbled all the way back to the bottom from the middle step (definitely the crux), and the second time he managed to send it uphill to the next step, which was then a little bit easier to get over to the top. My bike refused to go up at first but being a lot smaller we wrestled it partway up and Kit rode it the rest of the way--no wheelies for me.
   By then we wondered what else was in store on this trail, because it had not been bad at all until this particular part. We decided to continue on anyway since there was lots of daylight left and more trail to explore. It was fast and fun from there and a little ways past the waterfall another rider caught up with us; a local from Bishop who was incredibly surprised to see anybody else on the trail, and especially a girl on a TTR 125. I guess not many make it so far up there, and most folks riding those trails are on bigger bikes that climb the hills better. He was really friendly and offered some suggestions as to where we should go at the top, discouraging our initial plan to ride down Silver Canyon since it was a long boring ride on roads. He recommended either going back down another trail splitting off the one we came up or the Black Canyon road as a better loop alternative.

Old mines are everywhere in these mountains! Thanks to them we have many of these neat trails to ride...

   I was thoroughly worn out at this point and ready for a quick descent with no exposure to speak of, so I voted we take the Black Canyon jeep road down. Our new friend led us through the few intersections before the canyon began, at which point he split off to ride another singletrack loop before rejoining the road. The scenery was incredible as we wound into the heart of the canyon, flying below volcanic cliffs of all shades of black and brown and through groves of trees still covered in bright yellow leaves. Though not very steep or difficult, the road was covered in rocks and rattling me around like crazy, reminding me that I may be a little on the heavy side for that bike. It kind of felt like I was on my hardtail instead of a motorcycle with 12" of travel because I was having to pick my lines to avoid major bumps and going faster only made it harder to hold on.
   From the bottom of the canyon we successfully navigated the dirt roads back to the truck without getting lost, although it was a very windy ride. Cold beers were in order with some tailgate chill time to absorb the day's adventure and unwind my rattled skeleton and mind. The wind was relatively calm at the bottom of Silver Canyon as we hung out and packed up, but as we pulled out into the open valley it was blowing dust clouds and tumbleweeds all over.
   First we went to the store in Bishop to grab a couple of extra dinner ingredients, then back up to the Pit to cook. Up at camp the wind was gusting so horribly that neither of us really wanted to get out of the truck to start making food... yeah, a couple of wimps we are! Definitely missing the shelter of having a van to cook and hang out in. After a few minutes of indecision we went back into town to cook dinner in the grocery store parking lot, where the wind had slightly less force and not so much sand to blow around. As we cooked on the tailgate a car pulled up with a couple of friends inside hollering at us whom we never expected to run into in Bishop. They were coming back from a road trip farther south to Death Valley and were heading for June Lake to spend the night at a friend's house, which sounded like a much better plan to us than trying to sleep unobtrusively in town or being blown around at the dusty Pit.

Snow coming in over June Lake

   We followed them up to June Lake and figured the plan for Sunday would be determined by the weather. When we woke up to blue skies and a moderate cold wind it sounded like a short exploration of the local trails was in order before leaving for home. The Obsidian Dome, a nearby geological feature, looked to have a small network of jeep roads and a few ATV trails we could string together into a fun loop ride. All bundled up with warm gloves, a few small snowflakes drifted in the air as we rode toward the June Lake overlook on a whooped-out road. Very much like a pump track to ride, I was having no trouble staying warm with the workout of trying to keep Kit's dust in sight. The deep volcanic duff was interesting and a bit tricky to ride in, sometimes sending me a little sideways off a roller and making it really hard for my bike to climb anything steep. Even though I still couldn't keep up, and none of the trails were too technical, they still had good flow and we had a blast cruising around. A bonus was getting to see a giant mound of obsidian up close, and not just tiny chunks scattered on the ground. It's neat stuff!

Obsidian Dome tourist.

   We jam-packed enough fun into the last few days to go home before it got too dark and snowy. After this trip I feel a whole lot more confident with my dirt biking skills, and really can't wait to get the dang CRF 230 fixed so I can finally ride a bigger bike. I won't be hanging up the mountain bike any time soon but it sure is great to cover a lot of ground exploring and not be completely wrecked for days after. And it's undeniable how much fun it is! Learning new skills, tackling new challenges, and seeing new places--it's hard to wipe the perma-grin off my face after a weekend like that!

There went another summer...looking ahead to next year.

   Fall is here bringing rain and the best riding conditions. Despite that I can't help but feel awfully jaded by the past 2 years, logging far more couch time than saddle time, and twice getting crushed by another injury just when the previous one has healed. I think I've learned a lot and really hope I can actually apply it to become better at dealing with these setbacks--and avoiding them in the first place. I've also acquired a handful of other hobbies that are good for days off the bike and may make it more motivating to have more rest days. Gardening, fishing, and canoeing have helped me hang onto the last few shreds of sanity that were trying to escape this summer and provide endless opportunities for learning; especially so for fishing and gardening.
   Currently the canoe is all dismantled for some repairs and a complete refinishing. It's a really nice fiberglass canoe that needed to be returned to its former glory, with dry splintered trim and holes in the seats, and a hideous light green spray paint job. I tried an epoxy/carbon fiber patch on some holes in the front and back and they turned out really well, but it's been sitting for a while and now that summer work has finished I'm working on motivating to sand it all out for painting. The seats need re-webbing, and all of the wood bits need a going over with fine sandpaper and several coats of marine poly finish to complete the project.
   My garden was fairly good but not quite as successful as I hoped it would be with all the work that went into it. The pepper plants took forever to start producing, and some tomato plants never even bore fruit. The tomatoes I was able to get were very tasty but it seems like a big challenge to get more production with the incredibly short season. Snap peas got eaten by rabbits, the green beans were very small, and runner beans never even got beans on them, but I had some very happy kale and chard plants when they weren't getting eaten by the chickens. My winter project is going to be mixing up some good rocket power compost for next year in hopes that might help things along. A hoop house or some other insulating structure is also imperative to stretch the growing season out here in Meyers where I think the nights above 30 degrees only lasted for a month or 2 in the summer. My big hoop house got blown away nearly every time it got windy here and I had to convert it to 3 smaller structures as a last resort to keep things happy. Perhaps a green house next year if we can collect some more old windows. Abundant sun might make a passive solar heat system possible to keep warmth circulating around the plants through the cold nights.

Peppers and tiny green beans. They only got to 3" long and stopped growing.

   Things have gone amazingly well with physical therapy; I'm still incredulous that I spent all summer being dumb before finally going to see this therapist who has pretty dang near fixed me already! I have been able to pedal for 5 to nearly 10 miles with just a bit of stiffness and have luckily enjoyed a few good "brown pow" days in the last few weeks with some rain to make the trails nice. Corral Trail in my backyard is quite a hoot but I'm hoping I work up to riding a few other trails before snow buries it all. I also did 2 days in a row on the moto last weekend and was a little bit sore after but nothing too unbearable. Motos are fun on a whole different level and yet another challenge I'm happy to tackle. Additionally, it feels like a good trip to the gym for the legs and upper body but is a heck of a lot more fun. A mountain bike feels so small and light after muscling around one of those heavy beasts--the 125 is already feeling a little bit underpowered too, wait till I get on the 230 that Kit is working on right now. Eek!
It gives me a little more hope that things are going to return to normal soon. My therapist told me to basically go do things as I would normally and call him in a couple of weeks. If it hurts again I'll go back in and get worked on some more, but things are definitely progressing incredibly well. He thinks that all the pain was from the muscles at the front of the hip being all wound up in an angry tight ball from being overworked, compensating for weak butt muscles. How did I get those? Oh, maybe a miserable winter spent on the couch, perhaps... more reason to get back on the telemark gear this winter and build them back up! Before then I have to stay diligent with my stretches and exercises and work back into normal behavior.
  I'm still hoping that there was no irreversible damage done to the hip joint and that I will be able to go back to life as usual but the MRI will tell a lot about how the joint is looking and if there is any arthritis developing (ugh...don't want to think about that!) The MRI is now scheduled for October 24th thanks to getting a cold right before the first appointment I finally succeeded in making a few weeks ago.

Cucumber!

   Getting excited for next season already, I hope to pick up my new ride from Lichen Bikes up in Washington in the next month or so during my annual pilgrimage homeward. I have plenty of fun cruising around on the 'cross bike here in the meadows, but I've taken every opportunity for snagging Kit's Yeti for a spin on Corral to smash through rocks and hit the jumps. In the apparel department it sounds like Vanderkitten has come up with some ideas to expand their MTB presence; though details have yet to be confirmed, there may be some ski-bike multi sport video fun involved with that. In addition I'm still planning to complete some kind of instructor certification so that I can coach and lead rides throughout the year. With some successful fundraising in this past year all I've got to do now is get healthy enough to sign up for the training and then find a good one to attend!
   I'm trying my hardest to get back on the horse without getting bucked off again; let's hope this time I finally have more success!

A calm evening on the river.

 

Plugging away

  Half of me wants to re-name this blog something like "the misadventures of an ex mountain bike racer" but that seems awfully pessimistic. The fact that I'm going on two seasons of not racing is definitely getting to me and though I try my best to stay involved with events, every now and then I get really frustrated and just want to disappear without a trace. Don't worry, I wouldn't actually do that--there are too many good people to miss seeing again!
   Almost 2 months after my doctor visit I still have made no progress with scheduling an MRI under the new insurance, yet they kept bugging me about making an appointment for a yearly checkup...can we take care of the more pressing issues first, please? Apparently not!
   Progress with physical therapy stalled out with continued inflammation making it hard to add any more strengthening exercises. I decided to try another PT, Ashwin at Great Basin Physical Therapy, on the strong recommendation of a friend. Although it's a 40 minute drive off the mountain it seems like a worthwhile choice because he was able to make a lot of progress. After only 3 visits I've been able to go up stairs pain-free and without using the gimp walk, pedal a bike around the block a few times, and walk around normally and for a longer distance. This actually motivated me to get up an hour earlier to fit in all of my stretches and exercises before work so I can do something fun in the afternoon. Getting out of bed before it's absolutely necessary in the morning is not exactly my strongest suit, so this is really a good thing!
   On the more fun side, Kit got tired of me moping around the house every time it has rained this summer so he found me a dirt bike: a little Yamaha TTR 125 "clown bike" since it is quite small and feels funny to stand up on. But it's absolutely loads of fun (I'm convinced I shouldn't be enjoying myself so much), and I'm perfectly happy with it right now. Even better is that I haven't had any major hip pain following the few days I've gone riding, despite a little bit of hiking now and then going up anything that's a little over my head. The whole throttle control concept is still evasive, and though some mountain bike skills transfer over it's really a whole different beast. Trying to roll through a rocky downhill section that I wouldn't blink at on a mountain bike put me on the ground in a pile twice within 3 feet; those tiny wheels like to stuff themselves into holes, and compounded by the usual rear brake being the front you've got a winning combination for confusion. Getting good at that kind of thing is probably best left for after I'm healed, but for right now, I'm quite content to rip around on jeep roads to explore and see the sights.

Yes, I am wearing mountaineering boots.

   Going fast on two wheels again and getting a little drifty in some corners puts that big silly grin back on my face where it belongs. I feel a little bit guilty for hopping on the motor-head bandwagon after being such a human powered advocate, but Kit won't have anything to do with stand-up paddle boarding, and riding motos is something we can do together and with our friends and hopefully keep me relatively sane. I sure hope that I'll be able to ski this winter, but if not there is plenty of desert to explore out there in Nevada.

And a spiffy Loeka jersey!

  

Fishing around for the meaning of life.

  Pardon the bad pun--why yes, I have indeed been fishing, both within my mind to find the meaning in my bike-less existence, and in the outdoors trying to catch a fish or 2. I attended a women's fly fishing clinic put on by SheJumps, which was a really fun and educational experience that got me hooked and let me use my dad's nice backpacking fly rod for its intended purpose.
   So I found that fly fishing is really neat! I didn't manage to catch anything in the private lake up at Northstar, but got to hang out with some fun people and learned the basics so that I can get out there on my own. It's another complicated thing to do and the gear can be expensive, but I think I can work around that because it might be a good low impact activity for the next few months and beyond.

Learning to fly fish with SheJumps.

   Over the 4th of July weekend Kit and I took a canoe camping trip to Faucherie Lake, northwest of Truckee and a few hours up some really bumpy dirt roads, to escape the tourist mayhem in Tahoe. It seemed like an ideal combination of hip-friendly activities including paddling, swimming, fishing, and hammock lounging.
   Being able to paddle to a campsite at the far end of the fairly remote lake was another big bonus, as it allowed us to further evade the masses and have more of a "wilderness" experience. Our quiet little cove only saw a few kayakers throughout the whole 3-day weekend and muffled most of the noise from the campground partiers though it was only a 15 minute paddle from the truck.

Porky fetching sticks in our little cove.

   The only unfortunate part: we didn't catch a single fish, though we tried for hours both from shore and in the canoe. The lake's temperature was just right for swimming and the campsite had perfectly spaced trees to hang a hammock, so I made sure to take regular dips in the water to cool off and snooze a bit every day.
   Pork Chop spent the weekend mostly sleeping along with some swimming after sticks and a little bit of exploration around camp. It was a refreshing, relaxing time for all of us and a really neat experience overall. I'm totally sold on canoe camping as an easy way to get out on lakes and see neat things. I'd like to circumnavigate Lake Tahoe this fall after most of the boating crowds have gone, and find some other lakes to explore between now and then. 

Oh, the sunsets!

   The hip has been feeling intermittently more sore lately, especially after I do dumb things like walk 100 yards in knee deep water to get to where I can swim in the lake--that was a really good idea. After that incident I finally caved in and saw an orthopedic who is sending me in for MRI to look at cartilage in about a week. He is suspicious that it's a torn labrum after looking at an x-ray and the shape of the head of the femur. So the plot thickens.
   I'm feeling really apprehensive because it will be nice to know what's going on in there but at the same time it will open up a huge can of worms if it looks like something that could use surgery and I have to decide what to do about it....yuckkkkk! I have one friend who has had the surgery and it didn't work out as planned, and my cousin is currently rehabbing her hip and trying to avoid surgery. Anyhow, that's way too much speculating before I actually know what my problem is. 

   I was going to try and ride the moped over to go fishing this afternoon in the river near the house but thunder is rolling and it looks like rain. Good for the garden, but I don't really want to be caught in a torrential downpour like the one I drove through on the way home from work yesterday. Better to sit on the front porch and watch the show! 

Yet another exercise in patience.

   Obviously I would much rather be riding bikes on my day off, but I'm being forced to take it easy again, so I'm blundering around in computer land trying to fix up the blog a little bit and attempt to update social media. I was celebrating having been injury-free for over 6 months, enjoying time on the mountain bike, and finding my way around a new job and town. And then, BAM! I hurt myself again. Thankfully my brain isn't the victim this time, but my left hip; a deep aching in the front around the iliopsoas muscle which eerily brought flashbacks of the same feeling from 7 years ago at almost exactly the same time in May. One of those insidious overuse injuries from too much riding too soon without letting my body adjust gradually, and now I've gone and done the same thing all over again. You'd think I would have learned!
   I can't help but imagine that work had a little to do with this psoas malfunction, however; since my first choice of summer work with El Dorado Vector Control didn't pan out I scrambled to find something else besides a kayak shop job. I wound up as the "water educator" for South Tahoe Public Utility District, which I found out required an awful lot of driving through neighborhoods. Scratch that--I'm going to ride my bike, I thought. Great idea until I realized I was riding 20-25 miles in a day. And then sometimes going for mountain bike rides after work. I don't think my body really expected that kind of mileage only a couple of months after getting back to normal activities... 
   I'm now scrambling to get the moped going that a friend generously donated to my cause, getting a few last minute parts replaced and taking the written test to get my permit for starters. I had no idea until I tried the number of hoops one has to jump through in this state to legally ride basically a bicycle with a 49cc motor...but of course, it's California. The DMV here couldn't even tell me how much it cost and I had dig around on the internet for hours to find the fees, and of course wrote a check for the wrong amount and sent it off! In the meantime my truck is squealing obnoxiously at low speeds and protesting at being put into first gear, and I'm trying my best to avoid the neighborhoods with too many stop signs (don't tell my boss). 

   The last time I injured my hip in 2007 I proceeded to completely ignore it and push through the pain for about a month before finally giving up and letting it heal. Somehow I made the best of it and did pull ups, kayaked, eventually went surfing and came out stronger than ever. It took until September to be able to get on a bike, and then was only shuttling downhill trails, but I raced a full season of collegiate DH including nationals that fall. This time I really hope that acknowledging it immediately and trying to let it rest is going to help it heal slightly quicker, so aside from not riding I'm doing everything I can to try and get back to being functional with a little outside help. 

   I had the good fortune to meet Crissy, the owner of The Studio Lake Tahoe down the street from my house in Meyers, just showing up for a yoga class. She is such a kind and generous soul in addition to being a highly educated yoga and Pilates instructor and brilliant body "engineer." Jessica is a physical therapist starting to build her own practice at The Studio  (meyersphysicaltherapy.com), and she was a participant in the South Lake Tahoe mountain bike clinic that I just coached. Her whole-body approach to healing injuries addresses any underlying imbalances, which are a large part of the problem I'm having. Between both of these amazing women I'm excited for the help to rebuild my body the way it needs to be to handle the stresses of training and racing again.
   In addition my teammate Gretchen recommended MLS Laser Therapy to reduce inflammation, so I went out on a limb to try it...and it seems to be working so far.  I've become so much more functional after 4 visits and feeling hopeful! Though my bike fund is all but gone now, fixing myself once and for all seems like a much better use of money--who needs a bike when they can't even ride? 
   It will take some discipline to keep from diving back into long rides right away, but when my new hand built frame from Lichen Bikes in Indianola, WA comes in I'll be distracted for a little while with putting it together, and then hopefully be ready for some shuttle laps.  In the meantime I'm spending a lot of time puttering around the garden while drinking tea and talking to my plants. I'm really hoping to get out fishing soon with Kit when I have a conducive work schedule; it changes every 3 weeks and currently is about as opposite as we can get. 
   In other awesome news, Vanderkitten approached me about representing them as an athlete in the Tahoe area, looking for broader exposure on the gravity racing end of the bike industry. Vanderkitten currently supports a very successful road racing team, and their mission of promoting global equality for women athletes in male-dominated sports like cycling is one that I can really get behind. I'm really honored to be chosen for this opportunity and hope that I can help inspire more women to live healthy, active, adventurous lives as well as advance my own athletic career. 

Just go with the flow...maybe something cool will happen!

   In my experience, it's a whole lot easier to deal with things not going according to plan if you haven't started with one to begin with. A great adventure will almost always occur if the right gear and an open mind are brought along. Sometimes, too, it's fun to go climb up something that is not in a guidebook; where we haven't memorized a detailed description of what to expect and there is a little bit of routefinding and an air of mystery about the route.
   We left Tahoe on Friday night headed south for the eastern Sierra with only some vague ideas in mind and a pile of skiing and climbing gear in the truck. We were perhaps going to climb and then meet up with friends to camp on Saturday night near Sonora pass, or camp farther south and ski Tioga Pass with another friend on Sunday, or...who knows? After a strong start, our rusty packing skills and lack of mental checklists caused us to turn around after the summit of Luther Pass Hwy 89, when Kit had to confirm his climbing harness was not in fact inside the haul bag. Now we definitely needed to go climbing, just to make that extra trip back to the house worthwhile!
   Our first stop was Travertine hot springs in Bridgeport for a soak and low-key camping. The next morning we decided to work toward Granite Basin to climb, a bit southwest of Mono Lake. Passing Virginia Lakes on 395 we spotted the top of an intriguing line on a peak just the next drainage to the south. The speculation began: how can we get there? Is there a road? Should we investigate? The answer is obviously yes to the latter two questions. We had passed the Lundy Lake turnoff countless times on the way to and from the Mammoth/Bishop area, noting the sign and figuring it was just another one of those places where retired folks go to hang out and fish (not that that's a bad thing). Little did we know the amazing ski terrain that lay up that road!

   The couloir visible from Conway Summit was awfully thin and would require a lot of hiking up icky talus slopes, so that wouldn't do for this time. This mountain, later found to be Gilcrest Peak, also held a number of other gullies which had the appearance of forming quite nice couloirs earlier in the season, perhaps accessible without too much hiking from the winter road closure. Driving farther up the road revealed many more incredibly good-looking ski lines begging for exploration, including the one we chose on Mt. Scowden. The closest approach appeared to be blocked by a vast beaver pond, but at last as the road wound to its end, the pond subsided into a creek surrounded by a maze of aspen trees of all sizes, fallen and standing. That we could deal with, unlike splashing through murky knee deep water.
   It was about 10 AM by this point, and we sat debating for a few minutes after some initial exploration of the approach. Having missed out on skiing Bloody Couloir only a month ago over concerns about carrying a heavy pack for hours, I hesitated for a few minutes about how wise an idea it was to jump into something like this. Then, the worrywart voice was silenced by the much deprived adventure-craving part of the brain, and I said "Let's do this!" I had felt much stronger over the last few weeks and was beginning to think it was about time to test a few new limits.

   Shouldering our unwieldy packs, we proceeded to clamber over, under, and across a mass of fallen trees at various angles; catching skis and boots on stray branches and near misses on slippery logs. We hit an old mining trail shortly after crossing a short talus field and it led us to a creek at the bottom of the couloir. Skins were applied, and a short while later as terrain steepened I pulled ski crampons out of my pack. We had both bought these after an icy early morning going up Mt. Whitney where only one friend was able to skin while all the rest of us miserably slid around and eventually put on boot crampons and carried our skis, but in the last 3 years I had not found myself in a situation where they were necessary (that means it's time for more ski mountaineering trips). I decided to try and skin as far up the couloir as possible just to see how well they worked, and it was quite amazing--I'll never do another spring trip without them! I stubbornly refused to carry my skis until the very last 200 feet or so which steepened a bit more and contained more rocks to maneuver around. I'll admit it was probably a bit ridiculous making steep kick turns every 10 feet, but I kept pace with Kit as he bootpacked and never felt overly precarious.

   At the top of our main objective we estimated to be about 2/3 of the way up the mountain, and there was still continuous snow above for most of the way to the summit. We debated for a few minutes whether a trip to the summit would be worthwhile; my tired legs said to leave it for next time, as another 1000 vertical feet was not sounding terribly attractive at the moment, and the wind was whipping around the peaks ferociously--I despise windy conditions at high elevations. The snow in the couloir was also getting quite soft and considering our late morning start we didn't want to have any issues with wet slide avalanches.

   The decision was to ski back down what we had climbed up. Snacks consumed and skis on, we stood at the top for a moment before I told Kit to drop in while I take a few photos.

   Watching him confidently make turns down the steep pitch between the rocks I had a minor panic attack. Is this a terrible idea? Though not a "no-fall" line, it might not feel good to crash in the wrong place. This would be my third day on tele gear, refusing to ski it on any resort days in order to be able to make more than 2 runs without exhausted legs. Though I had skied some steeper chutes at Kirkwood several weeks ago, it was on alpine skis, and things look way steeper and more scary on floppy free-heels! Oh well. When all else fails make parallel turns and hope nobody is looking...after this short pep talk I shoved off and carefully picked my way down to Kit, making a million tiny turns and gaining a small amount of confidence.

  I mustered the courage to make tele turns through the middle of the couloir and found a bit of a rhythm. Kit found a very sticky patch of snow and went flying, but fortunately the soft sticky snow also kept him from sliding endlessly downhill on his face. By the bottom I started feeling much more comfortable with dropping a knee and carved some bigger turns out the bottom of the couloir.
 

   All too soon we were back at the creek, much to the relief of my burning quads. We skied almost to the end of the snow and removed our skis practically in the creek, made the short scramble down to the mining trail, and stayed on the trail all the way back to the parking area: a much easier way than our approach.

   We passed a few ruins from the old mining days, a reminder of the history of the entire eastern Sierra and the beginnings of many of these small communities, and arrived back at the truck around 2 PM. A little overwhelmed with the awesomeness of the last few hours we just sat around in the sun relaxing and letting gear dry out. How could we possibly top that adventure? I have no idea...we sure didn't try. We bailed on plans to ski Tioga Pass on Sunday because of the wind, and spent most of the afternoon driving around nasty rough dirt roads looking for friends supposedly camped by Sonora Pass, whom we later found out were not actually there. We did find a decent campsite for the night but were quite bummed to be a) not with our friends and b) not soaking in hot springs. Oh well. The price we pay for recreating out of cell phone range; sometimes it makes last minute excursions a bit complicated when other parties are involved.
   Driving back toward home the next day we had the excellent idea to stop and climb at Woodfords, since it is located right on Hwy 88 on the way home... We had after all brought climbing gear, and remembered Kit's harness. I don't recall what our favorite climb was called but it was likely the best 5.10 crack climb I've done in a very long time, and the bomber hand jams helped both of us completely forget about the previous evening's frustration. It made for a completely rad weekend after all and we both can't wait to go back to Woodfords again and Lundy Lake next spring!

Getting back in the saddle

   In between moving, looking for a job, and exploring my new outdoor playground, there hasn't been much time to sit down and write. Not the worst problem to have, but a snowy day is a much needed respite because my body could use a break after all the running around I've had in the past few weeks. It seems as though everything fun started happening all at once this month--a handful of sunny spring days on skis, my first rock climbs in approximately a year, as well as some very tentative first mountain bike rides since my injury in mid-October. Road rides too, enjoying the bike path and some relatively quiet roads here on the south shore of Tahoe. All of these things are very promising, but I'm not sure if I'll be in racing shape by early June for the first race in the California Enduro Series at Peavine Mountain just over a month away. Nor am I sure if I'll have a bike to race by then; my only mountain bike at the moment is my trusty old hardtail single speed, which in any other year I would be tempted try an enduro race on anyhow, but in my current state would probably DNF given less than a month to get in gear. I may go to the Fears, Tears, and Beers in mid-June and race the sport class just for fun, since I have wanted to try that race for several years now, but we shall see.

Meadow pedal, and discovering an old barn :)

Rock climbing right over there!

   However, this brings me to some rather exciting news: thanks to Facebook I was able to reconnect with a childhood friend who has gotten into designing and building bicycles in his machine shop near where I grew up in Washington. He has just built and taken some rides on his first frame, and it sounds like a success so far. Him needing some good test riders, and myself needing a bike, this is a perfect opportunity to help a friend out for both of us. I'll still have to scrounge parts to build up the frame, but it will be so RAD to ride a bike hand built by a friend and hopefully get his still-unnamed company some publicity when I start winning races (at least that's the plan). It may not be done by next month, but that may be better in the long run so I can forget about racing for a while longer and work on building more fitness to avoid an embarrassing re-entry into racing.
   The other exciting announcement I have is being chosen as an ambassador for Dirty Jane, an online retailer for women's mountain bike gear that has been tested and approved by female shredders. It's sometimes hard to find clothing and body armor that actually fits us, so being able to find it all in one place is pretty neat. Dirty Jane's mission is to build an active, helpful community of women riders to provide inspiration and grow participation in mountain biking, and I am happy to add my knowledge and skills!

Remembering Peaches the Wonder Pony

   This story will have nothing to do with bikes, skiing, or climbing. Instead, it concerns a large piece of my past life as an equestrian, which I'll wager that the vast majority of friends I've met after high school do not know about at all. It's difficult to explain to someone who may not have ever had an animal, but a horse can become something like part of the family after so many years and experiences together, and their quirks in personality endear them even further.

   As a typical horse-crazy young girl, I started filling my piggy bank at the age of 3, saving up for a pony someday. Riding lessons followed not too long after, and when I reached the age of 9 my parents decided I was experienced and still interested enough for a horse of my own. I remember only getting excited about one other horse--also a dun colored quarter horse--but Peaches was smaller and more my size as a skinny little kid. Despite being only 3 years old she was amazingly calm and collected for the most part. Indeed, she had her moments, and I learned to hang on tight in order to avoid being launched occasionally, but it made me a darn good rider.
   The next 10 years were filled with so much learning, training, and many good times at shows. From hunter over fences to 4-H, 3-day events and more, she was absolutely fearless and would jump over anything that was not too tall for her short legs and stocky quarter horse body. There were parades, costume classes, and even a pie eating contest. Many awards were collected over the years in all disciplines, including at the Washington State Fair at the top level of 4-H competition. Her color and cuteness nearly always caught the judge's eye and she had become so well behaved in such a short time that I could focus on my riding without any worries. She was also my closest confidant, and I could cry on her neck and tell her about whatever inner turmoil I was experiencing. Her response was a look of quiet understanding, a nuzzle for treats, and a reminder that I had the best pony a girl could ever want; usually all the comforting that I would require.
   She also taught me the responsibility that comes with caring for such a large animal: daily stall cleaning, feeding twice a day, and consistent exercise. Training her required consistency, caring, and firmness as required. There were times early on when she would take off running for no apparent reason in the show ring, leaving me in tears and regretting getting such a young horse. I would have to collect myself and move on. She more than made up for it later on by becoming the greatest pony imaginable, doing everything that I would ask of her, and I was so happy to have all that hard work come together. It was really something to compete in the ring with so many horses costing thousands of dollars more, and little Peach would do just what she needed to do to make me look good in any 4-H class. As docile as she was otherwise, she still maintained a sassy attitude when another horse got into her space, leaving me and my 4-H friends with some very amusing stories.
   As so many of these horse-crazy girl stories go, I couldn't bring Peaches with me when I went off to college. The horse craze was slowly being replaced by bicycles which were much easier to care for. Instead of selling her right after my last 4-H season, my parents kept her at our little farm and grew more and more attached to her as a family pet. It became obvious that this was now her retirement. She had their dedicated care and feeding, and was able to graze in the pasture or on the front lawn nearly every day. I eventually only made it home once a year for the past 4 years, always in the gloomy rainy time of year, but I would always try to spend a little time visiting with Peaches, though it never seemed like enough.
   This past winter I was not feeling too well when I visited home, but the sun came out one day and it seemed like time to stroll up to the barn to say hello. She was outside grazing, and as usual, she ignored me until I presented some treats. I did some calculating--she's getting up there in years, close to 24 years old, and she may not be around for a whole lot longer. I figured on at least a couple more years though since she still seemed quite healthy; pondering this I removed her blanket and started brushing her coat. I finished brushing and draped myself over her neck, breathing the horsey scent that brought back so many memories. Finally I put her blanket back on, gave her another treat, and kissed her goodbye on the nose. I had hopes of a spring or summer visit this year and maybe a little bareback ride around the pasture, but that was to be the last time I saw her.
   Last night, completely unexpectedly, a phone call came from home. Fortunately it came after dinner and Kit and Pork Chop were there to comfort me. While out at pasture that day Peaches had somehow broken her hind leg so badly, up toward her hip, that it was not likely she would recover from an attempt at surgery. My parents then had to make the decision to have her put down, as the odds were not in her favor as an elderly horse and she had already enjoyed a long life with the same loving family for 21 of her 24 years. I only wish it could have been less painful for her; my only consolation is that her suffering did not last too long.  It's so hard for me to imagine her not expiring peacefully under her favorite tree, but that's just not how it works in real life I guess. But I am so very thankful that she was with my parents and they did the best they could under the difficult circumstances.
   With a sniffle and tears still in my eyes I will say: rest in peace little Peaches. We shared so many fond memories and taught each other so much. You will always be the best pony a little girl could ever ask for. We'll miss you!

The weeks fly by...

   Most of the snow has melted from the lower elevations on the northeast side of Lake Tahoe with only a few stubborn patches remaining around the neighborhood. The last week has been downright balmy here--spring has definitely arrived! With it comes some big changes; most notably the move to South Lake starting just over a week from now. I've been feeling a whole lot better, getting out and walking the dog every day and slowly increasing my time spinning on the trainer several times a week, though not riding bikes outside yet mainly because of upper back issues still needing to be sorted out. I'm still sitting upright with hands off the bars to avoid aggravating my neck too much. Physical therapy has helped loosen things up a lot but there is a balance between strengthening the neck & back muscles and causing them to seize up again that I have not quite found yet. Really looking forward to getting the old cruiser bike out to pedal around the new neighborhood in Meyers and the nice flat bike path.
   Yoga has been so helpful, giving me an opportunity to work on becoming more flexible and de-stress my mind, so I got a monthly unlimited membership at the Lake Tahoe Wellness Center to motivate myself to get to class 3 or more times a week until the big move. I even tried the new Pilates mat class offered there and I think I'll stick with it as part of my rehabilitation. It sounds like the yoga studio in Meyers has a great variety of classes as well, only a short pedal from the new house. All of this is proceeding at a very leisurely pace because I really don't want to mess up again--I'd like to be able to race by early June but if it's not feeling right it won't be worth it at all. My #1 goal for this year is to get healthy and STAY healthy, and though I'm yearning to shred the singletrack ASAP we all know how well that worked for me last time. Yeah...it worked for about 3 weeks and blew up in my face, so here we are again. I could use some good karma this year as well as a touch more restraint!

   Although the weather in Tahoe was supposed to be amazing this past weekend, Kit and I decided to take another last minute camping trip to the Black Rock Desert to check out the bouldering at Purgatory just to the south. Night time temps were supposed to be in the mid-30s, instead of below 20 like the last time, so much more friendly to being outdoors after sunset.

   Arriving at Purgatory there was nobody else at the boulders but a few cows... surprisingly, because this area is somewhere around 1 1/2-2 hours from Reno and not a bad drive at all. The rock looks like sort of a mix of the thin crimpy Buttermilks and the pocketed Happy Boulders of Bishop, but all granite, and lacking the beta-spewing hipster crowds of both areas.

Our four-legged bouldering friends.

   After getting pulled around by an overexcited Pork Chop last weekend at the Snowfest parade and beach my back had been very angry, so I was still in rest mode and didn't try to boulder. While Kit was happily exploring and trying problems that seemed safe to do without a spotter, I wandered among the rocks and took pictures instead, with strategic rests/naps interspersed on conveniently positioned boulders. This is probably the longest hike I had done up to this point, up a steep hill, so I'm excited to report no ill effects afterward but feeling verryyy tired that night. Soon I hope to be able to climb, if even just some easy slabs that use the legs more than upper body. Just getting out and being among the rocks and in nature is awesome right now!

Kit tops out on a boulder, the multipitch climbing of Purgatory is high above.   

   After climbing we had a thought about trying to get to the Soldier Meadow hot springs on the northwest side of the Black Rock Desert, but adding more than an hour of driving time for just one night seemed a bit excessive so we headed to Trego hot springs again. The moon was just rising spectacularly as we made dinner BEFORE soaking this time around. The timing all worked out great and several others had their turn in the springs while we cooked and ate. We even remembered to bring wood for a fire to warm up by after the hot spring soak. At first I insisted we should camp far away from the train tracks after last time's experience, but our gear was scattered around the truck and the bed was all made up, so in my supreme tired-ness I agreed that moving elsewhere to sleep was too much work. One of those times that I miss having a van! Fortunately there was only one train in the middle of the night, and my neck was the only thing keeping me awake, but at least it didn't shock me out of a deep slumber like the racket of freight trains and I was able to catch a few winks. 

Moon!

   The next day we didn't have much of a plan, deciding over a leisurely breakfast to go take a look at some more rock on a nearby hillside and see if there was anything worth climbing. I spotted it taking photos of the moon the night before and there appeared to be large chunks of granite scattered around; quality of said granite would have to be determined by closer inspection.

 

Hiking up toward the hillside rocks

    The spot was only a short drive from the hot springs, and we parked at the bottom of a steep pitch to hike the rest of the way up. It was steep, loose and slippery and I only made it about halfway up the hill to the rock with a giant hole in it. Kit scrambled to the top and had a look around--apparently nothing looked good enough to climb with all of the granite in various states of erosion.

Top of the "mountain"

I made it to the holey rock! It looks hungry!

   Enough adventure was had that we decided to head back home, and stop in Reno to pick up a canoe from Kit's co-worker. That will be yet another adventure--it has no leaks and is pretty solid but the seats need replacing and the wooden trim could use a refinishing job. We're both looking forward to paddling and fishing in the lake this summer in it!

History and hot springs: a weekend in an unlikely place.

   When I say "Winnemucca, Nevada" what comes to mind? Wait, where is that--the middle of nowhere? Along with others such as nothing to do, dry desert, etc etc. With this in mind we chose the Kyle Hot Springs for a weekend of camping, figuring that there was a high likelihood of nobody else being there. Our favorite, Benton Hot Springs, was all booked for the weekend (Valentine's Day and President's weekend, go figure). And the rest of the Eastern Sierra pools were sure to be jam packed with climbers and vacationers taking advantage of the 3-day weekend. Black Rock was likely inaccessible due to the recent precipitation, although Trego hot springs may not have been out of the question not requiring travel across the playa. Regardless of that we opted to try a new spot for the weekend, hoping it was far enough out there to discourage crowds and yet be a reasonable drive from Tahoe. Bonus features were the ghost town of Unionville just across the valley to check out, and the Humboldt River/Rye Patch reservoir for an attempt at some fishing.
   We drove out on Friday evening armed with reasonably detailed directions, arriving in the dark after a slight detour onto the wrong dirt road. It brought us to the right place anyway, though we circled around for a few minutes looking for the pools until we realized we'd looked right at them upon first pulling in. Two giant sun-baked cattle watering tanks greeted us, looking cracked and faded, along with a wire fence presumably to keep people from running over the pipe carrying water from the source. I was somewhat surprised to not see anybody else, but not completely--it was after all kind of the middle of nowhere! Valentine's Day dinner of Trader Joe's instant curry vegetables and rice was dispatched in a hurry, a bottle of wine and a Pabst (Kit) were cracked open, and the business of soaking was attended to. The night was warm with no wind and the first tub was quite hot, but the second looked a little murky and not appealing so we hopped into the first one. It took perhaps 5 minutes to feel like boiled lobster so much time was spent sitting on the edge of the tub. That evening was not a long soak at all but it was relaxing and satisfying enough to go to bed happily.

Morning skies

Getting good use from the old 3-burner Coleman

   Saturday morning dawned rather cloudy with a slight breeze and a view of the Humboldt Range across the valley. A fishing excursion to Rye Patch sounded like the perfect way to fill a day out here though it required a trip to Winnemucca for a fishing pole and license first. The clouds cleared somewhat, and leaving the valley on Unionville Road we were able to view some appealing ski terrain on Star Peak, the highest peak in the Humboldts. Maybe for a future trip... Once on Hwy 80 it was much farther than we expected to Winnemucca, nearly an hour's drive to get there. A collapsible fishing pole and license were procured, and we debated going to eat at a Basque restaurant for lunch, but decided it was too early and neither of us was hungry enough. Back on the 80 west to Rye Patch the wind had picked up and there was a dust cloud threatening on the western horizon. When we pulled in to the Rye Patch State Recreation Area we headed for the river expecting it to be more protected. It was calm, but no fish to be found, so we drove up to the boat launch at the reservoir for another try.

Down by the Humboldt River below the dam

     A strong wind greeted us at the reservoir, rolling a raft of tumbleweeds across the water and giving Kit a hard time with casting out from shore. Meanwhile I wandered around taking photos, trying to make it look like a neat place to spend time at, and attempting to not lose my hat in the blustery wind. The hat blew off anyway and required Kit to come to the rescue, snatching it out of the water by the bank. A few friendly folks with metal detectors around the boat ramp provided amusement as they uncovered numerous "treasures" nearby. The dust storm encroached and sand blew everywhere, making the fishing increasingly difficult, so we packed it in and ate lunch in the truck pondering our next thrilling activity. 

A windy day at Rye Patch

   We had convinced Kit's friend to come out from Reno for the night, so he was on his way through the dust storm already but wouldn't be arriving for another couple of hours. We ended up stopping at the Thunder Mountain historic site right off of Hwy 80 to take a look at the incredibly bizarre monument. The story behind it can be found here, and none of the pictures I took really did any justice to how eerie and spectacular this place was; just click around on the website. Made entirely of discarded materials found within a 50 mile radius of the site and embedded in concrete, its builder Frank Van Zant "Chief Rolling Thunder Mountain" described it as "a museum, a monument to the American Indian, a retreat for pilgrims aspiring to the 'pure and radiant heart.' " I'll call it a crazy place, worth stopping and taking a look for one driving through on the 80. As odd as it is, it's an interesting piece of history and artwork that is unlike anything else around.

   Following that side trip we decided to see what Unionville looked like, all the way back down toward the hot springs. We expected a cluster of buildings sort of like Bodie that one could wander around and look at; instead it appears as though historic buildings and ruins are scattered about on private property aside newer buildings. There are a handful of maintained buildings in this old silver mining town from the late 1800s, which served as home to Mark Twain for a short time while he tried his luck as a prospector. His old cabin is still (barely) standing in a park toward the end of the main street. A drive up and down the main road and just about everything worth viewing has been seen, although we were tempted to continue on up a poorly maintained dirt road above town to look for mining ruins. The hot springs beckoned and we turned around to make the short drive across the valley.

Cheers!

   By this point a dust cloud had filled the entire valley, somewhat eerily, and we pulled up beside the tubs to wait for Kavour to arrive. He drove up about 15 minutes later and we hopped into the hottest tub right away. Thanks to the wind it felt about 10 degrees cooler, which I found not quite hot enough for ideal soaking conditions. Warm enough to be mostly comfortable yet too cool to get warm enough to climb out into the brisk wind without immediately being chilled. The sunset was absolutely incredible with the blowing dust, clouds, and mountains intermittently visible through it all. I only lasted in the tub until a little past moonrise and got too darn hungry with fingers and toes shriveled like a raisin to boot. I don't know how some people can sit in a hot spring for hours on end without a break to dry out--I turn into a prune and take hours to recover. So I pulled the truck up to the tub and got to cooking up some hot dogs, the dinner of champions. At least I put some spinach on mine...

Super sunset

   The boys stayed in the tub consuming beer after beer while I sat in my insulated overalls and finished off the bottle of wine. At some point a truck pulled up and was driving around in circles for several minutes near the source of the spring. I wandered over to see if they were looking for the hot springs since from our experience they were a bit hard to find in the dark, and we were probably blocking them from view being parked so close. We had not expected to see anybody else out there, and were also sort of trying to block the wind from the tubs. They were four guys going to a maritime school in the Bay Area who had just tried to ski a gnarly line in the Ruby Mountains but had found a nasty pile of avalanche debris covering it; not the best for ski conditions. We all hung out for a little while around the tub until I finally convinced Kit to get out, move the truck away, and get some sleep. 

   Sunday morning was clear but cold and still breezy so we ate breakfast and packed up to get on the road. A quick trip to Unionville to show Kavour the sights and then we decided to try a shortcut on the map to get back to the 80 by going south past Unionville and then west over the mountains. The road was snow-free, smooth dirt on the eastern side of the mountains and then paved going down the western side for access to a big mining operation right off the summit. It cut about an hour off the drive back home, great to know for next time. This would be yet another cool area to bring dirt bikes and go putting around up old mining roads looking for cool things, and Star Peak could be a fun ski adventure under the right conditions. I had a thought about trying to do a Nevada skiing adventure of some sort next winter/spring, finding the highest skiable peak in every mountain range and attempting to climb and ski as many as possible. That would be a big project but not totally impossible and would be something out of the ordinary; we'll have to wait and see what snow conditions and motivation are like next season.

Star Peak