tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31835650914771501892024-02-07T03:24:22.387-07:00Culinary HackSandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-59466455734490432762013-06-10T20:34:00.001-06:002013-06-10T20:34:03.441-06:005K: 3rd Place…Female Division<p>It was the Drop Your Drawers 5K, raising money for underwear for underprivileged kids. The course was 0.10 miles short, which was was unfortunate as I was on pace for a personal record. All this means, besides personal satisfaction, is that I was wheezing, limping, and drooling on myself, all the while constantly hitting next on my iPod to find the perfect song to distract myself. It was all worthwhile though, compliments of the gender confusion inherent with the name Sandy, I took third place in the female division. </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3DAC97GdaJE/UbaMmHCfRoI/AAAAAAAAFZo/g15uxeeaaQI/s1600-h/image%25255B4%25255D.png"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-f3Lc2BHi6L0/UbaMmjEHPII/AAAAAAAAFZw/yCXhYbTYaI0/image_thumb%25255B5%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="436" height="236"></a></p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-46523882123393015622012-08-12T15:35:00.001-06:002012-08-12T15:48:54.891-06:00Yard Happenings<p>Gardening is easy, when you have access to lots of running water. I recognize that Denver’s climate, if not supplemented, would provide enough rain to cover the land in tough, brown grasses. Compliments of Denver Water and high water bill, we have a bevy of vegetables. </p> <p>Members of the squash family have taken over the front yard. Vines snake across the yard and front porch, and will likely circumnavigate the fence line before the growing season is done.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIfWjFuXBADZY8MIF4U0SARTGNTvM3nGUihlGPQro-rWcMkmo38BHXaBiOkZKayxKEcvyQt73uC7lq5JphKNxGGg5FiPnlT7aDfv0al_xHv6eRVrUOc3jzy7H40JriX1CVqbU8Kb3j3Fm/s1600-h/photo%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgxmbJqE40kqp6OE9e_5IzTh4FOubwdD3yQaGfa_y_v4zCx3PMATLs79eSU_JBW2QKP7FAmfWfbjshfkvs3gm86ktwjXsAqcLIVZgAYzY-7CpABNtpH8iWjXjlUoZUr7r6tyEQq74s_KZB/?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Unknown squash. It looks like an acorn squash, but we did not plant them. </font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rXCeH2KYT2Y/UCghtvb9aDI/AAAAAAAAFWc/1wuiZKdZoVw/s1600-h/photo%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-a5V4YtEDCy0/UCghuOGsHfI/AAAAAAAAFWk/ivix9u7z5QE/photo_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">A green pumpkin, with its orange hue beginning to show.</font></p> <p>Tomatoes and Thai basil are the success stories in the backyard. These two are shading out beets, carrot, and onions, but given our love of tomatoes and basil, this slow motion shadow induced suffocation is welcome.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-urp81AdC64Q/UCgkwviQ3kI/AAAAAAAAFXY/W9nUHt-ehRA/s1600-h/IMG_1096%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1096" border="0" alt="IMG_1096" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--4k_Ad36Pn4/UCgkxT8JQWI/AAAAAAAAFXg/PRbqeaqhiEE/IMG_1096_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></a></p> <p>And occasionally, a surprise, beyond the usual weeds, leaps forth. In this case, a stinkhorn mushroom. Phallic and malodorous, they are delicate and fade quickly beneath the summer sun.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Z9ACTMtVydM/UCghudMVFfI/AAAAAAAAFWs/qXOq56lW8zk/s1600-h/photo%25255B11%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jOybSKuc5NM/UCghuwo9SXI/AAAAAAAAFW0/jNcJW0qCEdE/photo_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></a></p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-69826044030203839522012-08-11T08:30:00.001-06:002012-08-11T08:30:52.983-06:00Thundering Herd of Testicles<p>In a stunning display of self-propelled motivation, Alan, Brandon, the Texan, Stam, Brody, and me ran the Wild West Relay. A 198-mile run across high plains and mountain passes, from Fort Collins to Steamboat Springs, via Wyoming. It was the first relay for any of us.</p> <p>Our team, the Thundering Herd of Testicles, was but a drop in the bucket of sexually charged names. The roster read like the mutterings of a 15-year old boy: Tits in the Wind, Whiskey Dicks, and Rammin’ it up the Pass, being amongst those lacking in subtlety.</p> <p>The Texan and I thought it prudent to carb-load the night before, which was achieved with the assistance of Tecate. So with 1/3 of the team suffering a lack of sleep, dehydration, and a touch of nausea, sometimes referred to as a hangover, Stam toed the start line at 6 AM and we were off.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ZxR6kPu2R_M/UCZsKhaoooI/AAAAAAAAFPI/SDq9eKsjNS4/s1600-h/IMG_14834.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1483" border="0" alt="IMG_1483" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Q_F63TG1JCQ/UCZsLElJNVI/AAAAAAAAFPQ/5wnDjgkg1CM/IMG_1483_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p>We were an “ultra” team, meaning no more than six runners, with each of us running legs ranging from 29-37 miles. A typical leg looks like this:</p> <ul> <li>Runner departs <li>Drive past in the van 20 minutes later playing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPRt6Tt6RyM">this</a> <li>Wait at exchange area for runner <li>Runner arrives <li>Baton exchanged <li>Runner departs, and repeat until Steamboat Springs</li></ul> <p>An inordinate amount of time is spent in the vehicle, a 12-passenger van, rented, with maximum insurance coverage given what we knew would be a tired state. Within minutes it was awash in water bottles, running shoes, snacks, and odor, as though a river of locker room detritus had been deposited amidst the bench seats.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-IGT3UeHeFho/UCZsLvRYrLI/AAAAAAAAFPY/VQJgNNzaYrk/s1600-h/IMG_15464.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1546" border="0" alt="IMG_1546" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mzvp_jbzapc/UCZsMBS70PI/AAAAAAAAFPg/arrIi-Fe4uc/IMG_1546_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p>Energy was high in the morning amongst all teams. Lots of music, people throwing footballs at the exchanges, and a casual camaraderie at the exchanges. Like the arc of daylight, this intensity peaked mid-afternoon and then slowly receded. </p> <p>Running through the night, over mountains (thanks to Stam and Alan) and across high plains beneath a full moon, was a surreal experience. The slow pace and lack of distraction quieted the mind, especially when coupled with fatigue. Sleeping in the van was a challenge, in fact, I am not sure Alan even slept. Mid-night exchanges were hushed affairs and the sun an eventual welcome sight with which to sync our body clocks.</p> <p>The finish seemed inconsequential compared to what we did. Over 30 hours of running that ceased with the crossing of the line. The team crossed together, laughing and cheering as we once again, in a stadium announcer voice, we heard our team name called: and coming in now is the “Thuuuunderingggg Herd of Testicles”.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-uadhEIdpc9I/UCZsMpKd_1I/AAAAAAAAFPo/cs6VRvRhyL8/s1600-h/IMG_1553%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1553" border="0" alt="IMG_1553" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qxWILNaaXag/UCZsNQP0GOI/AAAAAAAAFPw/9t1YzX0J1Po/IMG_1553_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="404" height="304"></a></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-uDpHUeoPIZQ/UCZsN882EJI/AAAAAAAAFP4/0hZdq-KZZ4o/s1600-h/IMG_14935.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1493" border="0" alt="IMG_1493" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-x15mjjqZV2U/UCZsOtQuNUI/AAAAAAAAFQA/aB0mrpVjZ88/IMG_1493_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Brody reacts to a botched exchange. On a 30 hour run this 4 second delay proves inconsequential.</font></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_A8kEj6kJ3w/UCZsPHgZH7I/AAAAAAAAFQI/iFMWll7-Hv0/s1600-h/IMG_15274.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1527" border="0" alt="IMG_1527" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-IDzRH7zCn2o/UCZsPXfy3JI/AAAAAAAAFQQ/H9kAPGneDgY/IMG_1527_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Alan fading from view on a leg that featured 1,800 feet of climbing. </font></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-tfyWZ_c9MsU/UCZsQIrsrWI/AAAAAAAAFQY/OhMDwQcM2yo/s1600-h/IMG_2274.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_2274" border="0" alt="IMG_2274" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-gWithmGAQbU/UCZsQzBibaI/AAAAAAAAFQg/3wPI9nrXabg/IMG_2274_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Brandon running a downhill at such speed that we almost did not catch him before the exchange. Look close, he does not touch the ground when he runs. </font></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0QeAtP5P8AU/UCZsRhm2aWI/AAAAAAAAFQo/TK6Z9SVHfSw/s1600-h/IMG_2275.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_2275" border="0" alt="IMG_2275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsrNhzXgvTJ-T_zcZ5BPEh6CdHGeeGBLRS0bj7-5bXROV_TmRfPEOyBJNBfpXzddH5pctQ35iu7QHlHL3OOIg293BczonBePLxb4mt1jMcz1_OJ7EQhAxwfqLXea3MNx7kvwPBFQoGosd6/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">That is me tying my shoe. I suffered a foot injury weeks before and was nervous about how I would hold up. Swapping out insoles made a huge difference. </font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1FsJbn3NFA9ay6FmtwsCgXe4W1lgJJ3P9M0wZ3Xty5Bhaft5LBM1cJTcckZDJKM-cUKFtIKaQDp017ZipiLmNdE34qIv4ndFEWcLE8_ej5r72TFX-NU26u6WJkufSw9n8g7uISqC0DYme/s1600-h/IMG_2278.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_2278" border="0" alt="IMG_2278" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-yTt9OLpg9o8/UCZsTxJ_32I/AAAAAAAAFRA/4IKd6vpjDhQ/IMG_2278_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Brody heading out on his 3rd leg. With the sunset to his left and an empty road he cruised the centerline amidst the towering silence of southern of Wyoming. </font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6VgDbEK7epzbNNnTylnNCc_vXEFR4We2ykHfaqcHvdkq7FWLIHPK53FsuLCqAT0zel0vKObQPH64MKqAiR7WcbyJILmUuKoa6DLbjxgZsIfT5s-Cz5c4102tFD-lWErSguJK80ScbSSV-/s1600-h/IMG_2281.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_2281" border="0" alt="IMG_2281" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9p0H_YJTXEE/UCZsUcveBPI/AAAAAAAAFRQ/VQ4UAfy0hgI/IMG_2281_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">The Texan and I handing off. This was my 5th leg and I was dragging through the first half. On the second half the sunrise was accompanied by a song that I listened to a lot while running off the misery of divorce and it struck a chord. The realization of all that I have, including the health to spend 2 days with friends in pursuit of the asinine, replete with laughter and support, had me in tears. Rather than being heavy, I was lightened, and although I cannot claim to have suddenly been running 7 minute miles, I could not stop smiling as I loped through the high plains.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KNPe5wDQVf4/UCZsVdSOWoI/AAAAAAAAFRY/ng4-7MHBRvU/s1600-h/IMG_1490.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1490" border="0" alt="IMG_1490" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6uKT11wlfsA/UCZsW7LAb7I/AAAAAAAAFRg/jm4VLt4gPlo/IMG_1490_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Stam and Brody reading up on the next leg</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mDMQKPGh9qQ/UCZsXZDI6FI/AAAAAAAAFRo/r9iPTb1q57U/s1600-h/IMG_14963.jpg"><font size="1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfysugpYtKmEn7WIk8I6yjqoNRK7prLaIAUrXM4MEjX-GDHbQaG0h6w2wc9jVTxP4NrCY9H20UJatGEGiHjQQzgZJg2elxQE2uTh8rmlc6tDUJSkd2ADTZdnjtMJV-EaynHudTRfB2wRR/s1600-h/IMG_1496.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1496" border="0" alt="IMG_1496" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-DcYo9jBM-3I/UCZsYOews1I/AAAAAAAAFR4/zl8yy-Duuos/IMG_1496_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></a></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Stam cheering on a fellow runner</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwskfFEUdXeR5U7T6PIJC7EpyZXtMXFZLoeV4kMVoyRXr3nl6wFRM9RCIkuz3qdAt26QcpKpSY24xQ1A_Z5U1ydWmck8b9D3nWXJ1r1BlrkamMq1gmVv3pqqjOeLg_V6BDwb7tlMelX3-S/s1600-h/IMG_15023.jpg"><font size="1"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2Z1dmr_TgL8/UCZsYiNF1BI/AAAAAAAAFSI/pyFiXaxEhvc/s1600-h/IMG_1502.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1502" border="0" alt="IMG_1502" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-T6vgmbaab3Q/UCZsaBz95LI/AAAAAAAAFSM/lMAaaaf9Ixc/IMG_1502_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></a></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Alan, the team captain, running the numbers.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-TKlZ5yCZBiU/UCZsaq6PD-I/AAAAAAAAFSU/QcNpqUoWWho/s1600-h/IMG_15053.jpg"><font size="1"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-TKlZ5yCZBiU/UCZsaq6PD-I/AAAAAAAAFSc/ogcJTfoGUy0/s1600-h/IMG_1505.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1505" border="0" alt="IMG_1505" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--dSndBbIjkU/UCZscHPjCdI/AAAAAAAAFSg/1IX4h6KHiYs/IMG_1505_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Things get intimate</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioB3d374jorRxhp6xFD1VsQwJptzq-c6fzbpPox3DLg-X_Tf2ogAmuR6qfi0xLjie7Dhi5tEDtQjk1zi28wqUavJEZWn4cYa9iJEhu-baIzD7uMcr_N8icrFfiYwCBpGnKLpncVgvMSNvG/s1600-h/IMG_1508.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1508" border="0" alt="IMG_1508" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-56ObXVO-MaQ/UCZsdN4D4OI/AAAAAAAAFSw/FBOtdEiY5-4/IMG_1508_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Alan and Brandon exchanging atop a brutal climb. We watched a rubber-legged runner suffering from heat exhaustion nearly collapse into her teammates’ arms here. </font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGFLPdjTwonH_NlDtqjstOtEdo_Q-rwASV08WZellZ_7wnE5theP-3Spy79hyphenhyphenOzqm6UYT9n7KcEtNx1Y6e1j5oBg5gYJldS5F-luc7IZVxzxSSZhG-b1d0D0IVoKqpORMWFw6DuQFQ_sl/s1600-h/IMG_1513.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1513" border="0" alt="IMG_1513" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-a5Lkn4dP40c/UCZsdtuOG9I/AAAAAAAAFS8/vYIqX6t5r2U/IMG_1513_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">A hummingbird at the Red Feather Lakes Village General Store. </font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEkvXpFE2mSZ66q_uXKJQB-YaJBpSa3NFK3vWp7dwIsTdtqUW7L_K1dYtRmNEiT9f0Sbrz6EaIVaH5SY2S9ZRA78Z25yqCY7JDmW5XrmesRoJpJrStbWTqKO_H3gUfQhYt0Fffh-DgM3dG/s1600-h/IMG_1522.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1522" border="0" alt="IMG_1522" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-BoCbKP--WkU/UCZseRVt21I/AAAAAAAAFTM/kqg5-tqo_Ro/IMG_1522_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Stam, a hill climbing machine, cruising Forest Service land</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pafUxvMl_qc/UCZse6Ku2dI/AAAAAAAAFTU/ldMfR1bl3rU/s1600-h/IMG_1524.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1524" border="0" alt="IMG_1524" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2sjW3LPm2uE/UCZsfC9uwcI/AAAAAAAAFTc/UDiPSVCJfWg/IMG_1524_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Foot numbing mountain stream soak</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfxwp0ywVlvu69UIXw9yg9WpROHwvUtIEwXNvMu7LTdUnzVbfsYEXUU3xhKJQ_ibBemr9FFSwXxXJ2z8YpL7ExRW6c5BTJka1JKAs9AiSHMGwOMGRNviEN0uuZpYomK3Lx8rn9_PmuCPqP/s1600-h/IMG_1529.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1529" border="0" alt="IMG_1529" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-BzCIjFHXPwM/UCZsha__dZI/AAAAAAAAFTw/1Cgc4bSJP08/IMG_1529_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Stam grabbing a rest in the long shadows of the afternoon</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JTXHSMPB2Vs/UCZshmzVOjI/AAAAAAAAFT4/TrdJH-cfNHc/s1600-h/IMG_1532.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1532" border="0" alt="IMG_1532" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-pLr7N50GOAc/UCZsiDsgCtI/AAAAAAAAFUA/Ri0RH0DsS9w/IMG_1532_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">The Texan tiptoes across a cattle guard at the Colorado and Wyoming border.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Ao2EEquWx0jO2G1autzFsuuy_9th82AnOMUXnsr2UF_bH_LDeZLrXbQvRoK_dXb64kOAvb6PvcITaPplvrEegWX8drm-kOXqwm_Yu9wzFWzG0TCJyAcWogE_UHb4nHw9PGyy45lPGr7m/s1600-h/IMG_1533.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1533" border="0" alt="IMG_1533" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9R_U-LL4j_g/UCZsiwlzQBI/AAAAAAAAFUQ/7e3JJAVdkVM/IMG_1533_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">The “Turtles” and their irreverent hood ornament </font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-yMMcgeEzyrI/UCZsjE5wAnI/AAAAAAAAFUY/uv3gxZcgooY/s1600-h/IMG_1535.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1535" border="0" alt="IMG_1535" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-xfbuwJ0U264/UCZsjQ_8gQI/AAAAAAAAFUg/Zno543UbekU/IMG_1535_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">It looks like a pending proposal as the Texan and Brody exchange. </font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Gh5N2XEYdB8/UCZsj_aquvI/AAAAAAAAFUo/kgGAW9Tdj-c/s1600-h/IMG_1537.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1537" border="0" alt="IMG_1537" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Whkd8al1ymQ/UCZskdkfZ4I/AAAAAAAAFUw/JVPAajejvrc/IMG_1537_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">The Texan and I grabbed showers and soup at a local high school. Runners were sleeping in the halls and the gym, it looked like an athletic refugee camp.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2NSYhR3R2HU/UCZsk_szmZI/AAAAAAAAFU4/rLxXlJmSvCA/s1600-h/IMG_1547.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1547" border="0" alt="IMG_1547" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-CF_eTIRUvIE/UCZslW4aqGI/AAAAAAAAFVA/CDV-BYAnIhE/IMG_1547_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">The final exchange, Brody is 5 miles of circuitous and sun soaked glory from the finish line.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-7WD_dmzF720/UCZslhsAHcI/AAAAAAAAFVI/qX26JcYlP2Q/s1600-h/IMG_1554%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1554" border="0" alt="IMG_1554" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-AXSTh-H7T3c/UCZsmJ2SwzI/AAAAAAAAFVQ/CTCs7EAuhtM/IMG_1554_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Foot maintenance.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-48510iRCvEY/UCZsmrSbguI/AAAAAAAAFVY/NguNGxrsWvE/s1600-h/IMG_1555.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1555" border="0" alt="IMG_1555" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-J_hfJrtP6Lw/UCZsnIuYgeI/AAAAAAAAFVg/wFx_m7NAHoQ/IMG_1555_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">The Texan and Alan doing some post-race wallerin’ in the Yampa River. </font></p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-85616172067761525712012-07-14T14:19:00.001-06:002012-07-14T14:19:17.677-06:00Sand Creek 1/2 Marathon–the long and short of it<p>Aleka and I ran the Sand Creek Half this morning. In its inaugural year, this race supports the Bluff Lake Nature Center with a course that wends its way along two creeks near Stapleton. Being a mid-summer run, a 7 AM start time helps beat the heat, so with the sun already surprisingly high in the eastern sky, the start gun went off.</p> <p>The first half, a simple out and back, passed without incident and I was pleased by my 8:30 pace given the previous day’s 5 miler. The second half, since the race was constrained by residential development, involved a series of loops in and out of the Nature Center. Here is where things went awry. Signage was inadequate and poorly written, I am still note sure what Loop 2 Bypass means, and race officials were offering inconsistent direction. </p> <p>Operator error is of course what comes to mind, and trust me, I had plenty of time to dwell on that as I was misdirected onto an additional 1.1 mile loop. I spent 9 minutes wishing a pox upon the course official and curious how many other people scored a bonus loop. That will likely never be known, but the other problem I learned of, misdirection shortening the course. Aleka was directed away from a loop and finished having run only 11.6 miles. </p> <p>This was the sole topic of conversation at the finish area, with the race director apologizing for the confusion. I was beat from my run and Aleka was letdown to have not run a half, so she fired off 1.5 miles upon getting home, showing a degree of dedication I do not possess.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLO8jL0t_fGKsgwY4z5ZdhT_F1f_UVj2wcfy1MqJ5p1J01yPV9oEf1CDZfXmYjeRkwea70fk0JGy2DrxX0qscrF9ybT-y2XyjZbA5wj5RYvCe2OtQ9TPi0IQznDCdOpOkwEmPBeM25FMPF/s1600-h/photo%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-CcrjK7dZf04/UAHUQfjySaI/AAAAAAAAFOo/xTaLgZIWLro/photo_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Post-run recovery, buttermilk fried chicken, bacon, cheese and eggs, lovingly smothered beneath a pork gravy</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hvi9RqUpSkM/UAHUQz0WigI/AAAAAAAAFOw/4JsZWQOCSRE/s1600-h/photo1%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo1" border="0" alt="photo1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-kWnH8xwhL59HijT2cnysZ9mJgwZEiVx2I_BTzVPDwO99b4xzT22WomxJ6Cg7CKN1E9HRh7t1rD5Y3K0mEpbpZmSg6DLtYip1N5wGpRQoAnKL2CTF-csRVnVdMfvvbFTivni38M_ENej5/?imgmax=800" width="228" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Bloody Mary to restore sodium levels</font></p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-38531329268153343922012-07-08T21:35:00.001-06:002012-07-10T13:34:03.035-06:00Little Bear,Blanca, and EllingwoodStats: <br />
<ul>
<li>Distance: ~13.0 miles </li>
<li>Elevation Gain: ~7,300 </li>
<li>Start time: 3:20 AM </li>
<li>Finish Time: 5:00 PM</li>
<li>Climbers: Alan and Sandy</li>
</ul>
With highs creeping into the triple digits and Front Range ensconced in the smoke of wildfires Alan and I headed south, seeking refuge amidst the high peaks of the Sangre de Cristo mountains. <br />
This year has lacked big mountain days. Those days with pre-dawn starts, blisters, a huge caloric deficit, and a lot of time above treeline. After bouncing a few miles up one of Colorado’s worst roads, a brief sleep, and an alarm that went off at 2:55 AM, that dearth halted.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDbyKFqSIw7bsTAnxbvxB0_SUzKE73y3X_9WUn2kvEc5_np58KSNQQC0MCaYOJoRqNlZePTzi-ZgoJY4STX3jnEEzNAIFLFsllVPl5aEWl9Zo5bDtthkuDDabrZd31lctsqBnXEV_dDHG/s1600-h/photo28.jpg"><img alt="photo2" border="0" height="232" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mSmE9-z6LEM/T_pRQsJVQhI/AAAAAAAAFLg/NDpxsc_8dOw/photo2_thumb5.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="photo2" width="244" /></a><br />
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">We got 4 miles up this road. It took an hour.</span></div>
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-oZ_IiJBn9U0/T_pRRL32PWI/AAAAAAAAFLo/ZjK4vQ9IpAg/s1600-h/IMG_21854.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="229" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-F48Q5zrd7mo/T_pRRjr4s9I/AAAAAAAAFLw/XKXtkFL61Ho/IMG_2185_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="" width="304" /></a><br />
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">An orange sun peering through the haze, including wildfire smoke, in the San Luis Valley</span></div>
Little Bear Peak is much maligned, all because of the “Hourglass”, a narrow 45 degree climb that funnels rockfall. It can be a shooting gallery if careless climbers are above you. Alan and I avoided the situation with the early start, putting us on top before any other party.<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZf8wfQ4c_Vqk3n7Q1fE0GOqVdmjnzRDnoEsEV8v_OiwKMe6LxghZE56Y5V_tZv7u934zjKpsdlBkZRj9HTeUyRrjcG-G_Cxhs8I0muwhKQD2fxq1V4gbUeQ6w_dg9bvLp_URsrwJkKjY2/s1600-h/IMG_92028.jpg"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><img alt="IMG_9202" border="0" height="304" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-TZLFFgywzxQ/T_pRSXQ-YVI/AAAAAAAAFMA/xE0ePMGqGZo/IMG_9202_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="IMG_9202" width="229" /></span></a></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Alan at the base of the Hourglass. </span></div>
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-vpSj9iezOSk/T_pRTBzWHMI/AAAAAAAAFMI/UP8Ys7tQ_0Y/s1600-h/IMG_21924.jpg"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><img alt="" border="0" height="304" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jSDY-TxL5gg/T_pRTT2BCeI/AAAAAAAAFMQ/_ZFEAJU-iF8/IMG_2192_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="" width="229" /></span></a></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Me, following up.</span></div>
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<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-6B3-MGvMhRM/T_pRT61fn7I/AAAAAAAAFMY/p_WmNQNq418/s1600-h/IMG_21933.jpg"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><img alt="" border="0" height="184" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ZDeROHxqHlo/T_pRUTpdC6I/AAAAAAAAFMg/qyGBxvFDN3c/IMG_2193_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="" width="244" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Skylined, with the San Luis Valley in the background.</span></div>
There is a traverse along a narrow ridge between Little Bear and Blanca. We had thought about doing it. Alan was up for it. Me? I took one look and said “no”. With narrow catwalks perched 1,000 feet above the valley <br />
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-IS8lBUl_JiI/T_pRU-SLAwI/AAAAAAAAFMo/1j5IqilYFCg/s1600-h/IMG_2197.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4mraKubUawRu-T7cV6s-plZgKvwSm1liHSmwQQlFW3tj9BbIQdfeBA7oAIjEMKRPyodA0Vw6t4yPUI2GHtPDTlA00IUzoIXJFAHlgerY-a7vl1e0yzUqieJoKcWIwQHnRjBLNkr2ajzm2/?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="" width="304" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">The traverse between Little Bear and Blanca</span></div>
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SzN6-ceRO9o/T_pRVjdhaKI/AAAAAAAAFM4/fz770VVTQpA/s1600-h/IMG_21983.jpg"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></a><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SzN6-ceRO9o/T_pRVjdhaKI/AAAAAAAAFNA/tiz3qqP1ohE/s1600-h/IMG_2198.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtFKBf_Dm4KXiV3IBh1CV6dWqdPtWrLK73ZsZp2nU_hGLeFUZ-qRmKrx2cotvA6bODAVLqIXz_RGMWJBdaW9B18ua9Ab51WCLfH_p32wNXmf3mMbglhDhpK12sg5sd9MJJ0w3KBWIh6RHb/?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="" width="304" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Summit shot</span></div>
Since we did not do the traverse we had to backtrack and drop ~2,500 vertical feet to the valley floor to pickup the standard route for Blanca and Ellingwood<br />
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<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-sLABh2hqsHM/T_pRXIIIy-I/AAAAAAAAFNM/fG04JA1dxvk/s1600-h/IMG_2199.jpg"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><img alt="" border="0" height="304" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-knbytOFpfIQ/T_pRXbZ_AOI/AAAAAAAAFNU/H0Pk-Nu5HQw/IMG_2199_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="" width="229" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Headed upvalley, we climbed the headwall left of the waterfall</span></div>
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<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-SsuIBdOVd8Y/T_pRX0f-60I/AAAAAAAAFNc/q40uwTGF30A/s1600-h/IMG_2201.jpg"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><img alt="" border="0" height="304" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EwUX6T2meKc/T_pRYDU0uHI/AAAAAAAAFNk/hcK9q4-JUMM/IMG_2201_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="" width="229" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Alan atop Blanca with Little Bear in the background</span></div>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzm8RNFRRZneo6nRNM1DcXogc0HiphjdAcVh0QWm-hMbb-D9L4PkHtoAfljs5v3tM1fwHBb4gQviJSmOwKmWKmlKt4_5fbR3W92BTPDHB_nUv-IJjDPoLBfrZKmmqk6iCNe9kON8d-BQn3/s1600-h/IMG_2202.jpg"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><img alt="" border="0" height="229" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5BBklBLBw7A/T_pRZFIKITI/AAAAAAAAFN0/LCj-dFk776c/IMG_2202_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="" width="304" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Me with Little Bear in the background</span></div>
It was a brief descent and ascent to pick up Ellingwood, which is connected via a sinuous ridge. From Blanca, Ellingwood appeared a loose pile of choss. Nothing more than granite tiles stacked upon one another, waiting to slide to the valley floor with a hapless hiker facing a quick ride and a quicker stop. Upon closer inspection the trail was obvious and lacking in the perceived danger from afar. We descended different routes, with Alan staying on the ridge proper and me dropping into a couloir, but both eventually meeting on the valley floor.<br />
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-n2BS6wv-eww/T_pRZVxpUcI/AAAAAAAAFN8/be0yeKCaUvs/s1600-h/IMG_9205.jpg"><img alt="IMG_9205" border="0" height="304" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OyCSt-br7o8/T_pRZ1CH_xI/AAAAAAAAFOE/pZdKVCVirpQ/IMG_9205_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="IMG_9205" width="229" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Alpine tarn with tumbling snowfield </span></div>
All told, the day totaled over 7,000 feet in elevation, a personal best. It was felt on the hike out, in which every step forward fired nerves letting you know that feet hurt and quadriceps were overtaxed. The ride home featured pizza and fatigue, not necessarily in that order.<br />
<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_Hr_XPxyI8c/T_pRaWZMz6I/AAAAAAAAFOM/-NY0jU2vNfQ/s1600-h/photo3.jpg"><img alt="photo3" border="0" height="229" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-pAuBGPzBn9E/T_pRauihhQI/AAAAAAAAFOU/pCmSyu0qK5w/photo3_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="photo3" width="304" /></a>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-43196777070589166862012-06-07T21:38:00.001-06:002012-06-07T21:38:30.410-06:00Post-Work 14er<p>Alan and I went from climbing 14ers every weekend last summer to both being booked and having to schedule stuff months in advance this summer. One workaround, and a cure for mid-week mental doldrums, the Wednesday climb. It is all quite simple, by following these steps:</p> <ul> <li>Pick something within a 90 minute drive</li> <li>Leave town no later 4 PM, confident that afternoon storms have passed through the high country</li> <li>Pack light and be walking within minutes of hitting the trailhead</li> <li>Begin the race between muscular endurance and sunlight, carrying a headlamp to hedge the bet</li></ul> <p>We took this approach to Mt Bierstadt, a short 14er and a good test piece for the feasibility of mid-week climbs. Greeted by dramatic skies and occasional sunshine punching through a low cloud cover to illuminate the alpine, we pushed non-stop to the top.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-osYCYrspiTI/T9FzrQrHhkI/AAAAAAAAFKg/ZFr-6FoQdIE/s1600-h/IMG_1222%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1222" border="0" alt="IMG_1222" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GmBxZWLMlw4/T9Fzr3IZ9JI/AAAAAAAAFKo/AcWcQtwxSxM/IMG_1222_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">A few hundred feet below the summit, and seemingly the clouds</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNPq5AdKRxYUJz0RhxsgBp3VgVWQUfMrRu4aogbo8LR-uUnmI2OCe2ayjTsgmvfoybW78x6o6WAQikuX9KBbKRHbpUIb5zMCaNZRNO4brQs1yfxkllf6sHwShiBmx0WoxJ8s8faibS_Jv/s1600-h/IMG_1223%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1223" border="0" alt="IMG_1223" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-sp7Oc69M_QY/T9Fzsq9B3vI/AAAAAAAAFK4/paelqi5ibvk/IMG_1223_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Viewshed cleaved by shadow</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vUaVHFxnH20/T9FztIQ6ZuI/AAAAAAAAFLA/2uaewLWl9yI/s1600-h/IMG_1226%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1226" border="0" alt="IMG_1226" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-JXtZXGI_H-I/T9FztWktauI/AAAAAAAAFLI/1KMcfDJnjss/IMG_1226_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">The view from the parking lot, 2.5 hours after we began.</font></p> <p>My mental well-being is inextricably tied to my physical endeavors. A run, a ride, or hike clears cobwebs through awareness of the moment. While inevitably a rare occurrence, the mid-week climb will certainly remain on the to do list for the remainder of the summer, as the benefits last well beyond the moments of movement. </p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-68479353327653941362012-04-23T18:59:00.000-06:002012-04-23T18:59:00.700-06:00A Dog’s Bath – In Pictures<p>Aleka’s dog, Barley, per the norm, does not like baths. Usually mild mannered, he barks and growls, and will twist about to bite the water source, all the while shaking himself to dry off. Knowing this, we don flip flops, old shirts, and heavy aprons, as we will be in the splash zone the entire time.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-E6s35-BIWKg/T5Spe9OC_nI/AAAAAAAAE7E/jbn_7BmgL54/s1600-h/037%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYrPe5bTWbhCDZaWQYlVKAScgsk5QQOrveiz8aodT8cvG-tgCEiGzE-A941_oaRCzxgW0iKJKIxt8tnMxSCzWPMXzF3QsjxtpBhCahl4yu-JaFebvpt3K1oNw7_TY23gOqwb1BILXj_EjW/s1600-h/037%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="037" border="0" alt="037" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qu9lEktIfVk/T5SpgJeGrWI/AAAAAAAAE7Q/h6ZGd-LOjtk/037_thumb%25255B6%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="319" height="290"></a></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Looking pleased with the situation.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-C5oM9Jew_OI/T5Spge8F_0I/AAAAAAAAE7Y/dVhRUBxGqK0/s1600-h/039%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="039" border="0" alt="039" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9zk_XCCGkRw/T5SphE_WUEI/AAAAAAAAE7g/x7JToogvofc/039_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Doing surprisingly well.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-L-fo20D-lq0/T5SphYPbuQI/AAAAAAAAE7o/HpWksXky9mc/s1600-h/041%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-L-fo20D-lq0/T5SphYPbuQI/AAAAAAAAE7w/OFXqTWLl0r8/s1600-h/041%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="041" border="0" alt="041" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-kH_TrdhWSl0/T5SpiUWmUKI/AAAAAAAAE70/EYDUMqFxLus/041_thumb%25255B6%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="226" height="306"></a></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Anxiety creeping in.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3T1DK8opHLw/T5Spi3h7QOI/AAAAAAAAE78/-hYR5MeouB4/s1600-h/046%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3T1DK8opHLw/T5Spi3h7QOI/AAAAAAAAE8E/Pwl80NKwLeo/s1600-h/046%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="046" border="0" alt="046" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfJa77SvwK68gEJlvAtAlpz9H0pxuhjkNvoulhEMLVTAWi0oDnkX2k6YzYx0zlrOTQNftCKa54J6tsRos6qHk9LuykIFpD0-pTr260RtVdNwBUfNF6FzIDWsiJpi4yvOq_jgdHZw8r0xh/?imgmax=800" width="197" height="244"></a></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Sad eyes.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xe9EljumAQw/T5SpkAtMYEI/AAAAAAAAE8Q/hq_KtjGtLQA/s1600-h/042%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xe9EljumAQw/T5SpkAtMYEI/AAAAAAAAE8U/w752ohpmJKI/s1600-h/042%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="042" border="0" alt="042" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-uChKsNfQzfg/T5Spk53Lb-I/AAAAAAAAE8Y/dCM0_Sh-d-k/042_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Flight urge.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-20fvOVMlBPw/T5SplbmovwI/AAAAAAAAE8g/BNFRuvYLnxI/s1600-h/044%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-20fvOVMlBPw/T5SplbmovwI/AAAAAAAAE8o/43wp61TDLHk/s1600-h/044%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="044" border="0" alt="044" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Y1vJVEIuV04/T5SpmdM4NOI/AAAAAAAAE8w/2DGGwKajrJo/044_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="303" height="228"></a></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Wishing us painful deaths.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-TNsykgIqKjE/T5SpmqmUg4I/AAAAAAAAE84/j0gcqQBKSlg/s1600-h/047%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="047" border="0" alt="047" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-I4RShb58uyE/T5SpnDWNsOI/AAAAAAAAE9A/hRiM81MEH34/047_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Back on the street and completely unfazed</font></p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-51162487541590363952012-04-22T18:13:00.001-06:002012-04-22T18:13:44.400-06:00Strawberries and Gin<p>I am making an effort to throw less food away. Seems easy, but produce often hides in one of three drawers in the refrigerator. Items in plain sight are overlooked. Maybe an unexpected meal out. Suddenly I am awash in wilted produce, its turgidity waning in proportion to my interest in eating it. </p> <p>At the end of a productive day, especially a day that featured yard work, gardening, and an emotionally bruising dog bath, which was tough on all parties, but surprisingly, the least on the dog, an abundance of strawberries is a welcome find.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2d6I24H1JTrTFXf29UJ_Wi-jVtEaoOwHPbUdg2l4H4sEo2cVPneevHZNGnxzaSCw1sr4tafW4B65YOPbu1Q_rex7zXE3FBKXPZ_1GevDnx4JJwDtVDJnsrKfgk_xiyre5Z4vaLQQwJzOF/s1600-h/photo1%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo1" border="0" alt="photo1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKi0QXo_tLWuOWCV9C4-D_SdO-kqE5wZgWsrB99alyXwTnIzrsx43BSvUF8cVgFjggKX5z8vExoTlEKOqc-V9MAPrMtS3UWokrQyFXmt6hWWV9hMl2CzIRbJYYP0IutsV8P3K25HqHaLD/?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></a></p> <p>Cleaned, capped, and given a whirl in a blender with gin, a few ice cubes and powdered sugar, it is a velvety cocktail that invites the creeping shadows of the evening. Topped with basil, which offers both contrast and earthiness, think mint minus the cloyingness, and it becomes a potential summer mainstay. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-SS9azFAN69E/T5SetfB-cPI/AAAAAAAAE60/7ssPG6aPE0M/s1600-h/photo%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FskSd42taPQ/T5Set49S7jI/AAAAAAAAE68/6B8ztMdNIoA/photo_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="215" height="304"></a></p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-32324895683919179102012-04-21T23:42:00.001-06:002012-04-21T23:42:44.055-06:00Torreys Peak–via Kelso Ridge<p>Stats</p> <ul> <li>Route: Kelso Ridge <li>Distance: 6.75 miles <li>Elevation Gain: 3,100 <li>Start time: 8:01 AM <li>Time: 6.25 <li>Climbers: Alan and Sandy</li></ul> <p>Today marks the end of the alpine break. With approximately 5 months having past since our last foray above treeline, Alan and I literally dusted off ice axes, packed up crampons, and in a bit of early season delight in which you are not racing afternoon thunderstorms, rolled out of Denver at the seemingly later hour of 6:30. </p> <p>For those unaware of the location of the climb the US Forest Service provides an impressively large-scale map along the trail, which is shown below. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-lJWkuvRBu9c/T5OaNOkkehI/AAAAAAAAE30/aZMyj8NqSm0/s1600-h/IMG_2101%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5xBfKel8k-Hs2_FQf9ewqissN8cWuYJT5X5ZZBFo4l-N3q5mgcUNPMoQdeUWZHvHXJj1npCqoCvrfkjL4M2HUWKnGaEAdCU_n2O7OCLBGsw7IrsSKUzZ17ReoEGCXyfxFC1464eRVuwYi/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">It is true, the climb is in North America</font></p> <p>The quick stroll up the valley quickly gave way to the saddle between Kelso Mountain and Torreys Peak. Looking at the craggy path before us, with the wind picking up, we were excited. Rarefied air, a bit of wind driven snow, and vertical gain spilling upward, the mountains demand awareness, and much of the mental chatter simply drops away, and in that moment I am wonderfully content where I am.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-H_1_8hbA0bg/T5OaOOZqm-I/AAAAAAAAE4E/lRjCTxJNOxI/s1600-h/Untitled_Panorama1%252520copy%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Untitled_Panorama1 copy" border="0" alt="Untitled_Panorama1 copy" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pOC9oYRCTfo/T5OaOWx3t2I/AAAAAAAAE4M/ep_PPaxNFRw/Untitled_Panorama1%252520copy_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="464" height="134"></a><font size="1">The ridge route, we climbed from right to left. Click on the picture to increase size and you can see avalanche debris at the base of the South Paw Couloir.</font></p> <p>The climb switches from flats and simple, but steep, walk up sections, to using all limbs in areas where the best advice is simply do not fall.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9kdvbPMCMDy6pgK6JKkNCbYjsi3rzzWayDZIT7RdAbMdVgxe3xwgPue9wzAVYKRoWST4NF-OjCmoYK8-qFfu9I8jc1eWGdATZUC5EofIo18CCpu6sVji8BTnJ53Gpn5UeOHFDUoLuuuL5/s1600-h/033%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="033" border="0" alt="033" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PdCS5fU_-B4/T5OaPZwkIFI/AAAAAAAAE4c/8Z4XmTGQmJk/033_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Alan low on the ridge, before the difficulties began.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-VsV3g_HahDM/T5OaP04VKVI/AAAAAAAAE4k/FlV06IhgJdA/s1600-h/034%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="034" border="0" alt="034" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XVh6xmh5DXE/T5OaQY0LQZI/AAAAAAAAE4s/CZTXMIf0dlc/034_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Alan topping out a rock rib.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vuzbk0Tf5Nc/T5OaQ12nSDI/AAAAAAAAE40/RXjxAV0ftSQ/s1600-h/029%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="029" border="0" alt="029" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8IpTb8_heMY/T5OaRa7DeUI/AAAAAAAAE48/OFLXzRCRDA8/029_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Alan climbing a small snowfield, ending with a slight scramble.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-80jCCIPqqdg/T5OaR-bjeNI/AAAAAAAAE5E/zPK-K-vPtAY/s1600-h/IMG_2090%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="" border="0" alt="" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hEuH2r4nXYs/T5OaSK7QAoI/AAAAAAAAE5M/U59O_DVCRg4/IMG_2090_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Sandy catching his breath from kicking steps.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-sIZRxLO3VF4/T5OaSnLiekI/AAAAAAAAE5U/9SX8A0SWDls/s1600-h/IMG_2082%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="" border="0" alt="" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Dq9UBg4EuXg/T5OaS7SBZqI/AAAAAAAAE5c/R5kpecKm3p8/IMG_2082_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Sandy scrambling, in terrain that this photo makes look ridiculously steep.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-DsBuSe41vms/T5OaTXWacTI/AAAAAAAAE5k/mAZnMmktnR0/s1600-h/IMG_2093%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="" border="0" alt="" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9Nt5DLBisgU/T5OaT1-TdsI/AAAAAAAAE5s/AZqmGmLz4uk/IMG_2093_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Crossing a snow covered knife edge.</font></p> <p>The going was slow, mostly caused by my sore legs, nagging cough, and lack of acclimation. Yet, it was steady, with us hitting the summit approximately 4 hours after we began. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--BWUydgk8bQ/T5OaUKx-YcI/AAAAAAAAE50/NgC441FAgIM/s1600-h/IMG_2099%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="" border="0" alt="" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-DDBxWitjMnM/T5OaUoMaGMI/AAAAAAAAE58/uTL687sZ_k8/IMG_2099_thumb%25255B6%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="174"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Summit pose.</font></p> <p>The descent was through wet snow, warmed by the increased solar intensity of high altitudes. Sun baked and feeling like we were once again moving through our preferred habitat, the walk to the truck was a lengthy conversation of upcoming climbs. </p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-8053791213828909442012-04-17T21:04:00.000-06:002012-04-17T21:04:00.534-06:00White Bean and Kale Soup<p>When someone I care about gets sick and the what to have for dinner conversation turns towards warm vegetable broth, my inner-cook bristles. Thus, a destined to be salty broth from a who-knows-how-old bouillon cube turned into a <a href="http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/recipes/2451">white bean and kale soup</a>.</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-U5panI4qSTw/T4zdz7t0t4I/AAAAAAAAE1E/N-0TtWjWp6k/s1600-h/IMG_3897%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_3897" border="0" alt="IMG_3897" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-exAZHWZ4l4s/T4zd049cabI/AAAAAAAAE1M/OyIBJIYwi0g/IMG_3897_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="276"></a></p> <p>A light flavor, perfect for those without a strong appetite, but rich enough to pair with a malbec for the healthy cook. Caveat, the cook will pair a malbec with nearly any meal and be happy. </p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-25090395368668987972012-04-16T20:49:00.001-06:002012-04-16T20:49:27.288-06:00South Platte Half-Marathon<p>A cold morning, that was supposed to be rain splattered and breezy, instead broke partly cloudy with temperatures in the 40’s, almost perfect for a run. At 9:00 AM we were off for a brief tour of downtown Littleton and then a trip due north along the banks of the South Platte, 11 miles north to Denver. The <a href="http://www.platteriverhalf.com/index.php/race-information">South Platte Half-Marathon</a> was on.</p> <p>I ran solo. I knew a few people running, but they were all far faster than me, so I settled in with a new running playlist and let it ride. I came out fast, running sub-8 minute miles. The miles flew by, and the anticipated pain of a fast start never materialized. I crossed the finish line in 1:46 even, for a pace of 8:06/mile. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-HTeogpzsesQ/T4zaMj8kjzI/AAAAAAAAE00/oaTdlcodUhs/s1600-h/photo%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zVqXbZP5bCQ/T4zaNdU54-I/AAAAAAAAE08/YXkKDBXrs0k/photo_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></a><font size="1">Hamming it up at mile 11</font></p> <p>Last year, the South Platte Half-Marathon was my first half, and far and away the furthest I had run. It was a run that was fueled by anger over my pending divorce, with every mile spent training indicative of some sort of emotional strife. Over the last few weeks some of this anger has returned, and I was not sure what to make of it, but it was channeled into a few long runs and a couple of nights of bad sleep. </p> <p>Toeing the line on Sunday, it was not present. This run was an effort of awareness, to be light and smooth. To breathe. To enjoy the the stiff breeze, the snow covered hills to the west, and the feeling of a beard sticky with Powerade. To appreciate the slow nature of change, and be thankful for it. For once, being a guy that plods along felt like the exact thing, and in the exact place, that I ought to be.</p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-6155234763928613052012-04-09T22:01:00.001-06:002012-04-09T22:01:28.692-06:00Urban Elitism<p>I have lived within 2.5 miles of downtown since I first planted roots in Denver in 1998. Bike commuting from the get go, embracing the walkability of our climate and my chosen proximity to life’s necessity. I can get a bit (actually, a lot) high and mighty about my urban lifestyle, choosing small spaces over three car garages and good school districts. Going to <a href="http://www.sputnikdenver.com/">Sputnik</a> for dinner versus <a href="http://michaelkonik.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/fat-american-1.jpg">Chili’s</a>. Often I catch myself doing this and just laugh. We are all just trying to get by and reacting to our own situations, so if someone wants a long commute in the name of square footage, so be it. Yet, there are some things you cannot turn your back on; such as parallel parking.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7ndM7CBrWXQ/T4Owkv9QuCI/AAAAAAAAExU/6-56pwpBRqI/s1600-h/004%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="004" border="0" alt="004" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-IM76lChColM/T4OwlqOILxI/AAAAAAAAExc/dcnuqQBqlgM/004_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p>The photo above? Not staged. The driver pulled in, Aleka and I chuckled at the misguided first attempt, and then froze in horror as the driver hopped out and walked off. That was their parking job. I have access to a VW GTI that I could fit between that Subaru and the curb. No telling where this person took their drivers’ education, but parallel parking was obviously not on the curriculum. </p> <p>I am not alone in the importance of parallel parking. I now have several friends, you know who you are, who take great pride in their parallel parking. The moment the car goes in reverse we all go silent, a great judgment being cast forth in those moments of quiet, as we wait and see if they will need to start over, straighten out, or hit the holy grail, in one fell swoop effortlessly find their wheels kissing the curb and bumpers equidistant from the nearest cars. I always root against them, but then again, I am an urban snob, who is not quite in remission.</p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-6140648191437259562012-04-08T20:15:00.001-06:002012-04-08T20:15:26.169-06:00Bikes and Beer<p>Like so many young shoots leaping forth from the ground, and any other obvious spring cliché, everyone with a bike and a penchant for locally brewed beer was out swervingly pedaling local bike paths in pursuit of a kinship forged over beer and sunshine. </p> <p>Our short ride took in Renegade, Strange, and the Denver Beer Company breweries. With over 25 bikes in the parking lot, easily outnumbering cars, it was no surprise that we ended up seeing the several of the same people, also traveling by bike, at each brewery. Here’s to an early and Indian summer, featuring more warmth and beer.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RpRA--vynnM/T4JGOM-z6zI/AAAAAAAAEw4/qY3pcfYnYXs/s1600-h/023%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="023" border="0" alt="023" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nyYuUSO8k3Q/T4JGPClntWI/AAAAAAAAExA/nHVdZWCw9zg/023_thumb%25255B6%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="218"></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Aleka, standing amidst the overflow parking at Strange Brewing</font></p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-8852333346128268042012-04-02T22:07:00.001-06:002012-04-02T22:07:13.443-06:00White Sands Missile Range<p>Alan recently marched in the <a href="http://www.bataanmarch.com/">Bataan Memorial Death</a> March to honor his grandfather, who was a POW on Bataan. This meant he would be carrying a 35# pack through the desert, amidst the stark beauty of yucca and cacti, for 26.2 miles. Knowing that the drive home after such an endeavor would be rough, and in the name of some man time on the road and camping, I joined up as crew. </p> <p>It began with breakfast tacos at <a href="http://rudysbbq.com/page/home">Rudy’s</a>, a chain out of Texas that specializes in smoked meats and ice cold Coca-Cola. Healthy? No. Delicious? No, something even better, maybe nearing sublime. And it was staffed by women whose appearance and hospitality led me to believe they had been imported from the Lone Star State. With all of our senses saturated by the best of Texas, we continued south.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-p82XqqeTmWY/T3p2OOxCroI/AAAAAAAAErg/ERFcSvY32W0/s1600-h/019%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="019" border="0" alt="019" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--OhcUlPtYYE/T3p2SVobDEI/AAAAAAAAEro/gkkJta9ryFs/019_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></a></p> <p>With little fanfare we traded scrubby southern Colorado for scrubby northern New Mexico.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QtWMIOd3hiM/T3p2XEX1NBI/AAAAAAAAErw/9xEGvZnkeK4/s1600-h/017%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="017" border="0" alt="017" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipvODn6R1ePWWMQ531KoMTqrF_iCwCzebFehBehIyHPBKk_BRaTWznr8i0-FwiFlS60ZyIALHnwOK08bkBs3IZ1txaaxBBxXuBhrl7Mk1qGaaaYp-JwRZCStHGO2v5UfgGzGIaj_PniE-S/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p>The New Mexican landscape is large. Scrubland, with drought tolerant shrubs, and blue skies that press in. Distance expands as your eyes ingest 100s of square miles of landscape with a simple sweep from right to left.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ni2wzGyR9eo/T3p2fDIlo4I/AAAAAAAAEsA/u3f_-x9cxco/s1600-h/022%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="022" border="0" alt="022" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3_mEmYt1vTU/T3p2jdfbWDI/AAAAAAAAEsI/2x9zAI5ygNI/022_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="349" height="199"></a></p> <p>We fueled up on pistachios about an hour outside of White Sands, home of the largest pistachio in the world.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7AqjVs0s_Sg/T3p2nOlLBsI/AAAAAAAAEsQ/fVxGP7T-WhY/s1600-h/036%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="036" border="0" alt="036" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-yuFYGPAI2e8/T3p2qGrXnFI/AAAAAAAAEsY/6r2Jw1DDdoI/036_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></a></p> <p>At the base Alan checked, with a non-military like efficiency, as the line was long and slow moving. It was easily a majority military, but with civilian folk mixed in, pegged by technical wear and schwag from previous races, versus military utilities. We took in a documentary and called it a night, watching the moon drop behind the Organ Mountains as sleep overtook us surprisingly early</p> <p>The morning featured a whole lot of America. Sun lit peaks, RVs, Eye of the Tiger, cannons firing from basketball courts, and the national anthem. I took all of this in from camp (the back of a truck) as I was sleeping in, enjoying the sun spilling across the basin floor as over 8,000 entrants toed the starting line.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mdchs85JXjI/T3p2r90N2rI/AAAAAAAAEsg/VXMA0HN8eNY/s1600-h/046%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="046" border="0" alt="046" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-YKXNdgrXmz4/T3p2s99mx7I/AAAAAAAAEso/LgSiJPyNjVc/046_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jBf1FhIk5ZsoJlmZLh-ENSvMzPU44sP4Eu8U0bE6gLjTOpLQByujx43cVX4ftuz4sUVi0k9dKQG2RYmuuPhT4dZUKS4B4T3Ke87T3mDF_FDEJN7ht9pVb8pb3qginTs7dElfuQBqNhp4/s1600-h/041%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="041" border="0" alt="041" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hifQ3iziw7M/T3p2zmtrsBI/AAAAAAAAEs4/OkcoP-MdvKY/041_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p>While Alan marched I went for a leisurely run. A slow pace led to a personal distance record, 15 miles. Running in the desert was serene, with few distractions, either natural or anthropogenic. This was followed with a tour of the Missile Park, and in an interesting juxtaposition, the immediately adjacent cactus walk.</p> <p>Redneck Running in Rugged Region (bad alliteration)</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6yucWQdSMjA/T3p24oxdHCI/AAAAAAAAEtA/HdvcQoQ32mU/s1600-h/050%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="050" border="0" alt="050" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xwCKcieWlSA/T3p28OG2_uI/AAAAAAAAEtI/VQhCrQvaUn4/050_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="304"></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Vo02u6ZOyvE/T3p3AvXIu8I/AAAAAAAAEtQ/WP5_gt5X8BE/s1600-h/053%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="053" border="0" alt="053" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-kCMJJMHk_xs/T3p3FG5Y5mI/AAAAAAAAEtY/7xOMGqTWRhQ/053_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="304"></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-YaCwgOH_jdw/T3p3KFQpptI/AAAAAAAAEtg/UDdcup5brIU/s1600-h/058%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="058" border="0" alt="058" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-20pngWrFcQU/T3p3M5rTJkI/AAAAAAAAEto/Ks6we0-d8-o/058_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p>Alan finished in 8:43. He was beat, albeit with surprisingly spry legs, but also surprisingly large blisters. We immediately piled in the truck and began the 10 hour push home. Neither of us were particularly hungry, and conversation ebbed and flowed as we chased higher latitudes in the waning daylight.</p> <p align="center">Alan approaching the finish line.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-B5e_WkxW60A/T3p3S1H2PlI/AAAAAAAAEtw/TFiX8o-AVew/s1600-h/065%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="065" border="0" alt="065" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LmuvBlobfqo/T3p3VVeNrUI/AAAAAAAAEt4/mS0xlhrLG1c/065_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p align="center">Sunset, south of Albuquerque, only 6.5 hours to go to Denver.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-CQdAgXJyg10/T3p3ZPquaAI/AAAAAAAAEuA/__w24_fyQfo/s1600-h/079%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="079" border="0" alt="079" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4kzbetpYY8U/T3p3bItGkiI/AAAAAAAAEuI/s7nN5ehWgQ8/079_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p>All in all, it was a hell of a lot of driving, being on the move for 20 out of 44 hours. It was all offset though by the time without walls. The absorption of the great outdoors in a wide open basin, with a searing desert sun, wispy clouds, and wind blown sand being our living space. I had not slept outdoors since the prior September, and the fickle embrace of the nature was met with open arms and now sunburned shoulders.</p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-76393352753761308512012-03-20T21:56:00.001-06:002012-03-20T21:56:03.602-06:00Ski Day<p>I took a ski day today. An unremarkable event in a state full of skiers, but do realize that skiing is not my sport. I make my way down blue runs with the same level of confidence that a worm brings to a fishing contest. I envision blown ACLs, with skis and poles scattering behind me as a summer full of summits escapes me. I generally question the why, a cost/benefit analysis of time and/or money spent to the relative reward. It is a fruitless calculation though, as rare is the day, ensconced in the clarity of rarefied air, that I simply do not appreciate my position. <p> My standing about alpine terrain, today with the grandeur of the Fraser Valley spilling before me, that I once again realized, a lesson that is learnt anew with every break from the mountains, that it is not necessarily the sport, but the position and the people. To be with people I care about amidst that dramatic topography of the state I call home, is a reminder of what is important to me. Whether it is flailing on skis or moving fast and light on a summer’s morning, sharing the crystalline air and the frost-nipped mornings of the high country with friends and loved ones is always special. A schoolboy giddiness pervades as I down coffee, eager to hold onto to the excitement that grips me. And today, like nearly all days on the high, combined camaraderie and fear, and as always, relationships deepened amidst the laughter, nervous and otherwise, as vertical feet were gained and lost in a wash of sun dappled snow. <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-NDcwDgiLDYo/T2lRTR5r1OI/AAAAAAAAEjk/UNV4qWfRtCA/s1600-h/IMG_0578%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_0578" border="0" alt="IMG_0578" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-CrWEXGaiHlo/T2lRUj6kjhI/AAAAAAAAEjs/5m_94CYa1iE/IMG_0578_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-50308969874795982262012-03-19T23:39:00.001-06:002012-03-19T23:39:00.375-06:00Bikes, againExpect a lot of chatter about gardening, likely combined with some smugness. Such as, our heirloom tomatoes, which are being grown organically, taste sublime when combined with hickory smoked salt, and are especially flavorful after a bike ride. Speaking of bikes…<br />
Seed trays and dirt, brought to you by bike. This ride was fun as it was early, and Barley (dog) ran along side us. Between heavy loads and excited dogs we were a spectacular bike crash waiting to happen.<br />
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<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wjpMofE6EmM/T2LSMLgscyI/AAAAAAAAEdo/4RnIMQPxG6o/s1600-h/photo%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="photo" border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3p3bo5bvU3U0MsJ-nZsm-TeFhKhT7fThyphenhyphen0GbPkrSQZjf2Li1fLW4XN19QbKcXHsRcrfzuYdAXKSg7pSU8zeEgCu8Z3pNQkpTK4gY6t3sUB9wKBF8POznavZPsPeba4lEIU9U-R2PykA41/?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="photo" width="229" /></a><br />
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Aleka, who has always ridden, got a new bike last summer. A <a href="http://www.linusbike.com/models/dutchi-1/">Linus</a>, made for casual warm weather rides. It has seen intermittent use over the winter, but a summer full of patios and backyards, accompanied by cocktails, is its true calling. In the mean time, kids bikes at Costco have been sampled.<br />
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-I2c0nCvEQTE/T2LSNnNx2hI/AAAAAAAAEd4/op-JMzFE_Yg/s1600-h/photo%25255B12%25255D.jpg"><img alt="photo" border="0" height="229" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zxMYAEmcNEk/T2LSN8EtEUI/AAAAAAAAEeA/6oGf7-A0CAc/photo_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="photo" width="304" /></a><br />
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Lastly, my niece and nephew are absolutely killing it on bikes. Surgery has kept Morgan off of two wheels, but she will be ready to roll right in time for spring in Virginia.<br />
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<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-2G9wzBJkKZc/T2LSOskiPdI/AAAAAAAAEeI/HSrHDyklWOk/s1600-h/photo%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img alt="photo" border="0" height="304" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wzkAYqQNwRY/T2LSPPQwhQI/AAAAAAAAEeQ/aBaIJ500WL8/photo_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="photo" width="229" /></a>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-68018302043004799822012-03-17T23:20:00.000-06:002012-03-17T23:20:00.846-06:00How I Roll (or why I bike)<p>The scene below, is the bus pulling away as I stand on the other side of the street.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQGylB1MkeiSNbUYt-7VbEDh-mwomZzqLeBRbm55u-QpTzdLtBSx3yRUwXlzG5jBf6tfslY1WkQd53scS8redxdHcMCq4Rpd6YzggHo7T3udv4na6RsVi0xvb8weTADL7Rc12DO-7c-po0/s1600-h/photo%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-FgGWgA5XwEM/T2LNsR64ncI/AAAAAAAAEdc/9bdo8gsLArI/photo_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p>This happens without fail. Supposedly this bus runs every ten minutes in the morning, but my presence obviously creates a hiccup in the space time continuum, as every time I reach the western corner of the Ellsworth/Lincoln intersection, there is a bus disappearing from sight. Which is immediately followed by a slowing of all buses behind it, creating a gap in which I can almost walk to work.</p> <p>Interested in particle acceleration? Maybe the intersection of quantum physics and transit? Or the story of the man who never caught the bus? Meet me at the corner of Ellsworth and Lincoln, and bring a bike, it is far faster than walking. </p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-75196811892529204992012-03-15T23:07:00.001-06:002012-03-15T23:07:32.838-06:00Green Thumb<p>Aleka and I are joining forces to garden this year. This is not her first foray into food production, but it is mine. This means we have one amateur gardener, one neophyte, and enough enthusiasm to ensure that we run headlong into a world of cellulosic confusion.</p> <p>There are over 200 seedling “pots” combining soil, water, and seeds, which are resting on wooden shelves in front of a south facing window. Each pot has several seeds, so it is a matter of the strongest will survive which will involve the selective euthanasia of ~600 sprouts. We intend to be ruthless, but know that the plants will have the last laugh when we while away the hours weeding and fretting over pests. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MiXXfqnMbqE/T2LKkMUaEJI/AAAAAAAAEdE/QLq9-WR5IwQ/s1600-h/IMG_7205%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_7205" border="0" alt="IMG_7205" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-mm8EhtKpGno/T2LKk-lDMOI/AAAAAAAAEdM/b5BZyf6VVGk/IMG_7205_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p>For those of you gardeners out there who are curious as to what has been planted, here is the list, all from <a href="http://www.rareseeds.com">Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds</a>:</p> <ul> <li>Molten Fire Amaranth </li> <li>Envy Soya Beans </li> <li>Catskill Brussels Sprouts </li> <li>Extra Dwarf Pak Choy </li> <li>Arugula </li> <li>Forellenschluss Lettuce </li> <li>Henderson's Black Seed Lettuce </li> <li>Oak Leaf Lettuce </li> <li>Red Welsh Bunching Onion </li> <li>Black Hungarian Pepper </li> <li>Red Belgian </li> <li>Orange Bell </li> <li>Bloomsdale Long Standing Spinach </li> <li>Striata D'Italia </li> <li>Costata Romanesco </li> <li>Connecticut Field Pumpkin </li> <li>Basil - Thai Sweet </li> <li>Cherokee Purple Tomato </li> <li>Buckbee's New Fifty Day </li> <li>Jujube Cherry Tomato </li> <li>Peppermint Tomato </li> <li>Chives Common </li> <li>California Poppy - Wildflower</li></ul> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-77712917218753771902012-02-21T21:03:00.001-07:002012-02-21T21:03:12.217-07:00Nicaragua in Pictures<p>February in Denver is a cold affair, and as I have gotten older a month I would like to fast forward through. It was serendipitous that 18” of snow feel, then another 4”, mere days before heading to Nicaragua for an itinerary that was defined only as surfing, yoga, and sunshine. Watching the snow slowly fade from the landscape as we flew south, it felt as though an icy bullet had been dodged.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-l2RJD-MRlQg/T0Rcrk-33vI/AAAAAAAAETw/qOHqJ3Vr73I/s1600-h/0213.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="021" border="0" alt="021" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QweGZurJAtE/T0RcsVBuTKI/AAAAAAAAET4/-Of5ZksTx2E/021_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>Despite having 3 guidebooks between us to choose from, we forgot to bring one. This led to borrowing them from fellow travelers and hotels and taking pictures of the applicable pages. Above is a map of San Juan del Sur, our base for several days of beach hopping.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9SuvlhLAnCs/T0RczNLUuqI/AAAAAAAAEUA/zsxMXEBw36E/s1600-h/0233.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="023" border="0" alt="023" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-UANOrG9zkrw/T0Rc1M5EnJI/AAAAAAAAEUI/KA0qPJpNKe8/023_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>The view from the hotel, looking at the hills ringing the beach.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-oQxuPc_yovA/T0Rc3UuudrI/AAAAAAAAEUQ/1Wl7sOJSvCw/s1600-h/0253.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="025" border="0" alt="025" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ETBH0fRrG_M/T0Rc4e7xl4I/AAAAAAAAEUY/TjrcO3bRSaA/025_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>We were one block of the the beach, meaning that stepping onto street corner and looking west yielded a palm lined beachfront with a sunset backdrop.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tit-1-pWhlg/T0Rc779pjaI/AAAAAAAAEUg/pT8r8cw6W_c/s1600-h/0263.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="026" border="0" alt="026" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PuTMbMJoktU/T0Rc8ZzW0qI/AAAAAAAAEUo/vmh9L-A83XE/026_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Sunset, enhanced by margaritas being in hand.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-c352fmhlqMw/T0Rc_Bkv6eI/AAAAAAAAEUw/v1qDqnhhPB0/s1600-h/0333.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="033" border="0" alt="033" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-af5DRD_sl9w/T0RdAG36dEI/AAAAAAAAEU4/P3AVRNLjX2E/033_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>Fruit options in the tropics are varied and fresh. We bought fruit at the local markets, where I was amazed to lean that papayas are huge, with a hollow core. Bigger than my head and capable of being sliced and worn as bracelets, it was fructose shock and awe.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-TSbg6pWCng8/T0RdEXr8dtI/AAAAAAAAEVA/JeHko7tj-qc/s1600-h/0353.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="035" border="0" alt="035" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GKyX5kxTn0Q/T0RdFUGY92I/AAAAAAAAEVI/yc-c7eX_Iew/035_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>A skull and bones rash guard for surfing. The Jolly Roger, was looking badass, but did not foreshadow badassery upon surfboards. Instead, it was indicative of the thrashing we were about to take. Catching whitewater waves we picked up on pretty quick. Catching greenwater waves, not yet broken waves, was an exercise in saltwater faceplants and being spun around underwater. We fought the good fight, but wisely retreated for beer, grilled fish, and to watch the surf competition scheduled for that afternoon.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw__6Spa8VcpG_YIk2ETvd1ZQxekQZ3cmYTNe0oP3_9Bt05ZdTBcWnD-2eFMISWDtf_du0IrOhkjCrPM0LA2aHSPPGsz2tZW1fZYDhwbDxMd8VdcYbSZppJeilFDmkQPveMvT96sh1ACqz/s1600-h/0363.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="036" border="0" alt="036" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VBsAGVo3tvE/T0RdOvfjqpI/AAAAAAAAEVY/drZUgSxuGfs/036_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Sitting in the sunshine on Hermosa Beach.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-lHLtqcAnHz8/T0RdXjndvTI/AAAAAAAAEVg/KM96onom9Ks/s1600-h/0393.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="039" border="0" alt="039" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8i98MYzve9U/T0RdYrJQDiI/AAAAAAAAEVo/BKEbwSjgVvg/039_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>A basket of baby turtles. Hermosa Beach is a nesting site and to increase survival rates the locals hatch the eggs and then release them at the water’s edge. This eliminates loss to sea gulls, which view the hatching as a turtle buffet.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqSwzRq8eXnFoV4aTOhlRUHUYm7mDq3VcY6ptiJiPCF4J8O62mBw8y-nnm-pjQvcWR_56s-8FjPTtVvv0jVxUYc0x9bJ2qLhAey6LAF6kR0xBOW6we7droxMdeRZwSxicGXPgc8wDPscp/s1600-h/0424.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="042" border="0" alt="042" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hB_2vXRYPdQ/T0RdgLXxHcI/AAAAAAAAEV4/nZmrrOnyIt0/042_thumb4.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="160"></a></p> <p>A whole fried fish. A common meal, and one I had not had before. Being an average American I am used to my fish coming neatly filleted, so looking at teeth and eyes was a brief adjustment.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hoLKeWy2sK0/T0Rdo5e56CI/AAAAAAAAEWA/0q0_pPJOw_A/s1600-h/0483.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="048" border="0" alt="048" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wr3hraMibzM/T0Rdp4kwQOI/AAAAAAAAEWI/eRAD9e2XNgA/048_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Livestock in action! I have only seen this at George Washington’s birthplace and other historic reenactments, so it was fascinating to see cows, donkeys and horses as transportation and labor.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zy9X4wNUI8Q/T0Rdy5tCzZI/AAAAAAAAEWQ/2VWCVVfHcxE/s1600-h/0523.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="052" border="0" alt="052" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LtLfgak7wCM/T0Rdz8uzI-I/AAAAAAAAEWY/qdx6yJx9130/052_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Sitting in the sunset on Remanso Beach. We shared this beach with 10 people at the most, over the course of several hours.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0bYQjsl24dsTmHGDIgnzDEhK-ms1Gq92DMDLl2fTjo7rBg56B3lVi6s5JOSa-ngkIT8H_6AoqBpsrZ3XDFl9mEA_r_W7KU6W8sfjr7-nHeP7190Xr-vLUjiJ66Gy-dyFWS-vHeL-p3Kds/s1600-h/0623.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="062" border="0" alt="062" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-27a9Z9ivtVc/T0Rd85rt3UI/AAAAAAAAEWo/p-EsS_cy_E4/062_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Free range cows at the Remanso Beach.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-l1FYWvxXllU/T0ReDoTIobI/AAAAAAAAEWw/tCGvxjwDrok/s1600-h/0643.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="064" border="0" alt="064" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cK1tZNYFz-U/T0ReEDdvpCI/AAAAAAAAEW4/d2AjAUW2rzY/064_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Aleka taking in the sunset at Remanso Beach.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aAdC5ysGSY0/T0ReILsWeTI/AAAAAAAAEXA/k1S7VPLaZnc/s1600-h/0673.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="067" border="0" alt="067" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Y7MPaOhNnXg/T0ReIx8q5zI/AAAAAAAAEXI/SWucXd_Ghtw/067_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Sunset at Remanso Beach.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-X03cGdyr7Q4/T0ReNL8oYuI/AAAAAAAAEXQ/6GBJ32H4Hm8/s1600-h/0816.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="081" border="0" alt="081" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Pz1v2eLBUAk/T0ReOX2MrVI/AAAAAAAAEXY/wJyjag5ktDc/081_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>One of the many plates of grilled fish we ate over the course of the week. Note the teeth! </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9vRl2uKx9so/T0ReUpCFGPI/AAAAAAAAEXg/bxeasXQXRP8/s1600-h/0836.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="083" border="0" alt="083" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-UEeJX0hL-jQ/T0ReWqBVJ6I/AAAAAAAAEXo/UALfm7It9AY/083_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Aleka and I exploring the market in Rivas. Stall after stall of knock off shoes, clothing and loads of school supplies with pictures of Shakira. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8Z_KG7YuNS8/T0RebsABNzI/AAAAAAAAEXw/ZnYbTLWJST8/s1600-h/0876.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="087" border="0" alt="087" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hClc5v1OfiE/T0RecXyP7RI/AAAAAAAAEX4/yHJKa5X3GWc/087_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Plantains topped with locally made cheese. The cheese had a delightful salty bite, appreciated in the electrolyte sapping humidity of the tropics. Unfortunately, it tasted like a low quality feta cheese.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9Sn9LRQlPjS_L3tEzbPZKjI9YVnxpDJOO6ieHYWLkzhr53sH9Bcjab7WzLYj9aPw53yncFuBkIjqEKxsIrxrODPMpfS8GavdjdGxqZ5wfFZmPWeExMQiTpfCGE9FkaxrWy0LDqoGYgNr/s1600-h/0886.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="088" border="0" alt="088" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-u-Nk-Nkl-mc/T0ReiapkO4I/AAAAAAAAEYI/271d89nE-44/088_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>Journaling! What is more interesting though is the omnipresent bottle of chile sauce in the foreground. Chile sauce, aka hot sauce, accompanied every meal. Although never tested, I am certain if we only ordered coffee chile sauce would have been presented.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_-0FIJ7vLx4/T0RelRIcEvI/AAAAAAAAEYQ/pCj6gt_47aM/s1600-h/0926.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="092" border="0" alt="092" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn-EF2ZkGVx_ZJUjkGYzM0Y1r_Q4oOQ3kQbrKKSJKqaqXG0hZ_cdzzOffPdKmjIuR0Mi8yh0xnZnAaZnupAyrk056v-H3tAiuyyO9n8uP3_ierWu1SJdDOHhYbKPMXsZ_9a60f6UAosKex/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>Standing on the shores of Lake Nicaragua with Conception Volcano in the background. These volcano, and Volcano Maderas, make up Ometepe, a volcanic island in the middle of the lake.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-w0vmXVww6Lc/T0RepsvbkZI/AAAAAAAAEYg/bk7oG5E1gJw/s1600-h/0936.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="093" border="0" alt="093" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-LnkbE42IlXQ/T0ReqT2YTwI/AAAAAAAAEYo/SRBZMjWOBqo/093_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="95"></a></p> <p>A panorama shot from the shore of Lake Nicaragua.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0CzlDYUt-pzkZynIVEeU2IktIIJBV9e7icDbiW65fZCiN_ydlug8hL6uEIYJlOrhkXx38flHSd_E_9WvVnKzdirWnbD5vED_uowDCA2J1PXKfoqvQwk8Sp0dj5T2KEhZkAWRp6iBLBfz/s1600-h/1026.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="102" border="0" alt="102" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1q-g9JFvip16wt8xXqdWrUtbs0A6LphtRPyGoCW4hj6mYsN2o4v2zIhlHggt3pImK7gU2RcQlYsD5TMp6SJpD5J6v5bg7AfcOcvVcHORkBgIBqE9-eqdSrezKcga0o-d8S9ZhMYqMNh2/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>The ferry to Ometepe. The ferry was packed and featured technology from the 1940’s. The diesel exhaust poured over us the entire ride, an hour of inhaling fumes and being covered with soot.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-W-3AgxD7xg0/T0Re0cNvmVI/AAAAAAAAEZA/DG82E3rlIfk/s1600-h/1056.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="105" border="0" alt="105" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-4aIV6rwYP3o/T0Re1BWTCyI/AAAAAAAAEZI/nGVrtAgTzF4/105_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>Aleka looking like a bandito in an attempt to filter diesel exhaust.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bFt_JCfRNvw/T0Re3T_6OLI/AAAAAAAAEZQ/_QGwpgRHH8E/s1600-h/1096.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="109" border="0" alt="109" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-h26urrOZeAc/T0Re4cY0jgI/AAAAAAAAEZY/JCVYmOqJcPI/109_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>Aboard a packed bus, covered in ash and wondering how we keep packing more people on. I was crushed in the aisle between an older Nicaraguan woman and a school boy, faced with the dilemma who gets the front side or back side of my crotch. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4rT1XjvuVls/T0Re62sd5YI/AAAAAAAAEZg/sND3heL3X0I/s1600-h/1136.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="113" border="0" alt="113" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--dSGKChvOkw/T0Re7hgynHI/AAAAAAAAEZo/lxBt6kLG-kY/113_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>We hopped off the bus and then decided to continue onto to the next town. No problem, right? Wrong. We were on the last bus of the day. Thus, we overpaid some locals to give us ride on their motorcycles. My first motorcycle ride! Good God man, it was fun. Parents everywhere do not want to hear this, but everyone should experience riding a motorcycle. Especially if you can throw in a language barrier, two volcanoes, stray dogs, livestock, and heavy winds. Seriously, it was fantastic.</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-czzclOIvnFA/T0Re_MxmatI/AAAAAAAAEZw/ebu1AVsr6cs/s1600-h/1156.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="115" border="0" alt="115" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Ch_qyst63E0/T0RfBGHmoDI/AAAAAAAAEZ4/Gi2XK5aqnCk/115_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Conception Volcano.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wUk-KJ9xtDI/T0RfEbout3I/AAAAAAAAEaA/kMLhZwX5Nf4/s1600-h/1176.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="117" border="0" alt="117" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLrjg1KFUFWjvlqSEa7wdnpQYRa5pDlRP4TOYn1WCHoH7v2u_6DznJMKwCKBW7FyrRQcPwtk5s3Lk7SeXSvfTz6hDVfCDHRVN_ou5cEDwDZRuJYQ7NnTRr-Gr0ZVG-Q19IGyIvA4_2lFtr/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>Soot covered and happy to be watching the sunset with a beer in hand, Aleka smiles at the end of a day in motion.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-aJQWYZhs_-4/T0RfIwLKKtI/AAAAAAAAEaQ/3cZ7XcNI0Co/s1600-h/1219.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="121" border="0" alt="121" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-XxDspmAAHEA/T0RfJk4P5bI/AAAAAAAAEaY/W_r7Cr2SC8s/121_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Pancakes and fresh fruit for breakfast. </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4aoQuFY5fVk/T0RfRgjcWuI/AAAAAAAAEag/WxJT9VLag2Q/s1600-h/1259.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="125" border="0" alt="125" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-YhElyw2pisw/T0RfSg80-oI/AAAAAAAAEao/fgUs3UDYJCU/125_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>We rented bikes. Those three simple words and a wrong turn led to a 35 kilometer ride around the southern portion of the island. Body rattling bumps led to blistered hands as we passed by countless workers, each with a machete for working in the plantain fields, with all parties wondering exactly what we were doing.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-YfkL-9qIztQ/T0RfVakK4JI/AAAAAAAAEaw/XmcBmQgzghE/s1600-h/1349.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="134" border="0" alt="134" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-cKXCL6-R5_A/T0RfXV9EWXI/AAAAAAAAEa4/UhrZ2Vtvxk0/134_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>A bloodied ankle from a crash during a rocky descent.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mPHNgpXBQ9U/T0Rfjc5ikmI/AAAAAAAAEbA/2JJ09ETnh_M/s1600-h/1379.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="137" border="0" alt="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizj60YDHY7WmkRPvZb14ctM0pYbtvcsB1B_6CSyXPXtCyuu1nT5VUP1wuQWq_Qy8_Ba_ogKVM03FY5O9devENcv_Muz8AsjTrWd0VSRw-ZSL1H9AXawlmiJPzmXEeLD_5LObkxfYASdsyh/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>It was not all riding. Some sections were steep enough to justify walking, even by the locals.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-zB13Ni8uobw/T0RfqYljr8I/AAAAAAAAEbQ/oMTvE84CuMk/s1600-h/1389.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="138" border="0" alt="138" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Ru3E5wHsdC4/T0RfrdOD8DI/AAAAAAAAEbY/8F3c6f-lmJw/138_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>And cheers to a 5.5 hour effort, involving two water breaks, one lunch at what only be described as a shack, and a good bit of walking, and one of those experiences that you will cherish a few years from now…</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF6zqn-nOoUrHeuVr703ItoGug-b3ICeSpqNTZ9ks0FRK6nrRRkjUs3ZHjZm6uG8hYNPp05Dkr2u6dVBe6E9BLm_hM0PW6LRpPJAMKjOiCQpgEsJiBbLIvz9iS6a7zYDa8DWKYl7yb8WCb/s1600-h/1439.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="143" border="0" alt="143" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-loqODdn4xcw/T0Rfvy34ySI/AAAAAAAAEbo/djEmJ8-tbiY/143_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>Double fisting Tona, the national beer of Nicaragua. A low alcohol beer, Tona is only a step below water in terms of hydration, and available everywhere.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-3kbOk8fU3c0/T0Rf5CK4W0I/AAAAAAAAEbw/fpdb7Oc82d0/s1600-h/1549.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="154" border="0" alt="154" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BwwA2ReZ-RM/T0Rf59jAXiI/AAAAAAAAEb4/6_uVIbojUiU/154_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Ojo de Agua. A spring-fed swimming hole of crystal clear water that features lackadaisical water sports, food, local crafts, and beer. </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-gFXgZrlQVNY/T0RgAtJwT-I/AAAAAAAAEcA/521PZbyHByo/s1600-h/1599.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="159" border="0" alt="159" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8CmjugzjkK8/T0RgBbiaWxI/AAAAAAAAEcI/ewb2l6dyb8Y/159_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>Drinking coconut milk at Ojo de Agua.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gRbPOhfBbPo/T0RgHo7K49I/AAAAAAAAEcQ/IsAbrvUS25U/s1600-h/1689.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="168" border="0" alt="168" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-T0UWb19WaTA/T0RgI2HzMqI/AAAAAAAAEcY/uvM7m0aU4LA/168_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="225"></a></p> <p>Aggressive birds at breakfast. Look away for a moment and they would swoop in for melon, sugar, or anything that was near.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HAS2cq_k6Z4/T0Ro9RCYmuI/AAAAAAAAEco/eH5AkfZbgKQ/s1600-h/1759.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" title="175" border="0" alt="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQ9IODkBZOr_AuW8Ja3a25epgaXROf6f_eATWYEsQLZirV2bqsJtlKkYqT9qQasRyj_L6OW1CR9Y-RioLiIXoo-ZfWVb8Zrg3fVBqF02Qnc_lNNDbaVRoBpzbVywKIC5YKrcYo-i7cgbD/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></a></p> <p>The sad look due to a plane approaching Denver. All in all, time passed too quickly. With an itinerary that focused on the enjoyment of warm weather, landing in Denver, with snow still in the ground, was an insult only assuaged by the fact we love our hometown.</p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-35676337653838119332012-02-03T22:42:00.001-07:002012-02-03T22:42:02.330-07:00Gratuitous Snow Post<p>It snowed in Denver today. A lot. Twenty inches on the ground and it should continue overnight. It is now 10:30 PM and a fire has been burning for the last two hours. A pot of chili for Sunday’s Super Bowl Chili Cook-Off is bubbling on the stove. Given the amount of comfort I am currently ensconced in it could snow another twenty inches and I would be unfazed.</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-wr97KiGvfDc/TyzFIz3SKpI/AAAAAAAAETc/1CoEfRhXXcE/s1600-h/photo%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-u1kTSHusJ3k/TyzFKKhGkJI/AAAAAAAAETk/IKw88WwLKIY/photo_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p>I traveled via foot today. Imagine the quiet of the woods transplanted to the city. With few people out and the snow muffling ambient noise it is hard to not notice the diffuse light or the wind driven snow piling up on your beard only. The hooks of western U.S. geography continue to sink deeper.</p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-60762999130769533562011-12-26T21:11:00.001-07:002011-12-27T07:13:31.245-07:00Decalibron (four 14ers)<p>The “Decalibron”, an ~8 mile loop connecting Lincoln, Democrat, Bross and Cameron, is considered a simple outing. A set of peaks typically climbed in a single summer day, with a light pack, and ample time leftover to grab pizza in Alma and still be back in Denver for pre-dinner cocktails. In a word: easy. Yet, after five separate forays into this cirque I have never managed to piece together this seemingly simple quartet of high peaks. Weather, weakness and snow conditions, sometimes two of those three, have barred the path.</p> <p>Alan, Brody and I planned to climb an adjacent peak, but upon arrival at the trailhead the lure of extra mileage in the alpine proved too much. And with what amounted to a sneak attack, the mountain had inadequate time to prepare unsavory conditions, so beneath blue skies we began.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-PMaRFCkKMTo/TvlFa2o65gI/AAAAAAAAERM/eYoId57v6gI/s1600-h/IMG_1506%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1506" border="0" alt="IMG_1506" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gszuALfa9Q4/TvlFbUgy05I/AAAAAAAAERU/BK8LaMPwk0A/IMG_1506_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">A trio of men in action suits: from left to right, Brody, Sandy and Alan</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ITGn8nx3hqo/TvlFboNfLPI/AAAAAAAAERc/Xu2pfPNnn5E/s1600-h/IMG_1507%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1507" border="0" alt="IMG_1507" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KWr3WgA1nmE/TvlFb-1JsDI/AAAAAAAAERk/6bzfBDxBx7Q/IMG_1507_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Headed up to the saddle, with Mt Democrat on the left. </font></p> <p>The climb up Democrat was quick. Like a bunch of chatty Cathy’s, we whiled away the vertical feet while topics ranged from the ribald to life changing. It was the first time the three of us hiked, but with a surprisingly high comfort level this degree of rapport would see us around the circuit. Whoever spoke took the lead, thereby setting a pace that was conversational.</p> <p>Brody leapt into the goofiness of flex shots with a zeal usually reserved for gift giving holidays and porn. Thus, we settled into a series of high altitude yoga poses throughout the day.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-UjAFQDOaRqk/TvlFce-2jNI/AAAAAAAAERs/e3ToWHafCfQ/s1600-h/IMG_1519%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1519" border="0" alt="IMG_1519" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-FmW3Gt6Mu-Q/TvlFc5jiGSI/AAAAAAAAER0/Tdvf2HBCHgo/IMG_1519_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Brody throwing down half-moon atop Mt Democrat</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jVS9YWqdvMs/TvlFdEdLIII/AAAAAAAAER8/qtgBTOHukqA/s1600-h/IMG_1517%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1517" border="0" alt="IMG_1517" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-M7hsgMD0ptg/TvlFdiq0VMI/AAAAAAAAESE/U-yOg7HtQhw/IMG_1517_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Alan easing into Warrior III atop Mt Democrat. </font></p> <p>The remainder of the climb came off without a hitch. The traverse to Cameron, while laborious, was quick, and the walk across its broad summit with no discernible high point lead quickly to Mt Lincoln. The traverse to Mt Bross, whose summit is closed and whose true apex I can neither confirm nor deny we trod upon, had the feel of a frontage road. A wide trail across the moonscape feel that is characteristic of this route’s highpoints.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-yO5BkNsiJRQ/TvlFd1oqq7I/AAAAAAAAESM/wGHzloJ3CwA/s1600-h/IMG_1545%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1545" border="0" alt="IMG_1545" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-exx6LGHm9zU/TvlFeau0BiI/AAAAAAAAESU/Bvyxot0Ualw/IMG_1545_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Brody and his new ice axe. The angle was shallow, but the axe was new and begging for use, so out it came. Anyone who has ever bought new gear and experienced the jubilant anticipation of using it knows exactly why that ice axe got its first bite through sastrugi.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-mcl6jWOLWp4/TvlFehvFcuI/AAAAAAAAESc/MxXQuOPrG90/s1600-h/IMG_1548%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1548" border="0" alt="IMG_1548" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3imb9KqHeKo/TvlFfKaweHI/AAAAAAAAESk/SR3OjgASRjE/IMG_1548_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Traversing towards Bross with thin air, blue skies and smiles abundant.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-TmHprczQPhM/TvlFfWEXZZI/AAAAAAAAESs/SKZmsbAUqKI/s1600-h/IMG_1552%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_1552" border="0" alt="IMG_1552" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvGoc3NUC6bto3pd0sa2TLVApBSBztaoNXDA5FsKN870WKUOJSWN5ZzaPhkPTBPHv2fNm3Bq9tNbrgIaEl5qzZPgERwHIF2ShAw_jf9oFiorgn4swUUVrm7oLk5PI4BwDg7XpKI91P1I2N/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">The newfound and perilous activity, ice axe juggling. Due to fear, or in this case common sense, this effort was a complete failure, unless success is measured in tossing an axe into the talus.</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_yjfjck-rv4/TvlFgS9bhTI/AAAAAAAAES8/mMbKqvsZjSo/s1600-h/027%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="027" border="0" alt="027" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RS5guTVKVYI/TvlFghReLxI/AAAAAAAAETE/tnzv2ShkEb8/027_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">We left the trail and dropped down a gully, allowing for a speedy descent in the shallow snow. </font></p> <p>All in all, a successful outing with perfect weather and ideal partners. An alpine respite, whether or not earned, is in effect, but I hope to find the crystalline air and heightened focus of high places in the New Year. </p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-61053190813811966472011-12-05T15:22:00.000-07:002011-12-05T15:22:00.269-07:00Hey Everybody, This Guy Does Not Have a Car (Volume1)<p>Like ex-smokers and iPhone owners (I have an iPhone!), those of who are carless can be quite smug. Thus, since I have recently gone carless, the parade of smug blog posts shall begin now. </p> <p>It has been a snowy this week, with two storms rolling through in the last five days and another scheduled for tonight. Practicing nonattachment extends to all aspects of life, including comfort, so I am embracing (sort of) the feeling of snowflakes sticking to my beard.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-iOG_Mc2LSIE/Ttv0KwNVkUI/AAAAAAAAEQU/u3I3zxajDVE/s1600-h/023%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="023" border="0" alt="023" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-sJg05G3XIvM/Ttv0LWNuQqI/AAAAAAAAEQc/IgnLVPF5Bfk/023_thumb%25255B6%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="214" height="244"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">I embrace this!</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Tv-j7b__pNA/Ttv0MILS5II/AAAAAAAAEQk/DH7Mgh026XE/s1600-h/012%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="012" border="0" alt="012" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-N0HttiPTKaA/Ttv0MRID_cI/AAAAAAAAEQs/JsuEfGjxcU0/012_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Crisp and clear sunset looking across Cheesman Park</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjohdRv_IQ26YJfJaPeaYE4XVm2jDOqLOafRIi5AnpH8IUi6qrl_wUL4QAZZvTOiqtQ3ayZbLabqC50dL0B_0I5mF-WEiDM_R25MusjLZGgUEEovDzpfScLt_ONQan7cgMJzMtjdOwvET3p/s1600-h/020%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="020" border="0" alt="020" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-pJhnxGLkKi0/Ttv0NawQhOI/AAAAAAAAEQ8/qmp9PLOoUgo/020_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Pedaling through 5” of fresh powder</font></p> <p>The immersion of cycling is underappreciated. Whether it is the sounds of birds, the quiet beauty of the city waking up, or the biting cold on your nose, you have an enhanced environmental awareness. You note where long shadows are cast, meaning that snow and ice linger, and plan accordingly. You seek efficiency, whether it is route planning or knowing that your lock is in the right pocket of your bag and the keys in your left front pocket. With a very real cost, calories and time, you simply pay attention. And in all that, you still get lost in the joy of pedaling. </p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-3761266740532188902011-12-04T15:05:00.001-07:002011-12-04T15:05:45.687-07:005K Run and Food, a Sunday<p>Tracy ran a 5K today. Cheering her across the finish line and then getting brunch was a genius idea. This plan was conceived in October though, before anyone knew that the start time temperature would be 19* and the course splattered with intermittent snow and ice from two snowstorms over the last five days.</p> <p>Still, it is easier to bundle up and stay warm versus running 3.1 miles in the cold. Thus, Lori and I took our places amongst the fans, free coffee in hand, chatted, cheered and laughed at the antics of a clumsy puppy. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LpUfbxXGWi0/TtvupvAv7tI/AAAAAAAAEO0/h4-JnwifziE/s1600-h/033%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="033" border="0" alt="033" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9C7jMwkDhYY/TtvuqIyisWI/AAAAAAAAEO8/zv0OExqUWlg/033_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Making it look easy</font></p> <p>To remedy a chilly start to the day I roasted root vegetables, made a risotto and cooked pasta over the course of 3 hours. Windows were (still are) steamed and I ended up shirtless as the temperature and humidity were in the 80’s, but I have food for the week.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cNdzSKBBtiE/TtvuquCbM8I/AAAAAAAAEPE/Pv_yFchdgTQ/s1600-h/IMG_8857%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_8857" border="0" alt="IMG_8857" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-k9XbQ8SG1hI/Ttvuq01_O8I/AAAAAAAAEPM/s8KiunlCzZA/IMG_8857_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="263" height="264"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Parsnips, with a bitter edge to them, are a new favorite</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KqZT-JLTQII/TtvurZJfMrI/AAAAAAAAEPU/FynS4lHVfFM/s1600-h/photo%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46kZJzDsM227QZQ7f6FXVGW6ZCZa3n9OUM1Z-HFtCZJ94wG6k0rdRbhQK0WSxFh0nwpcLxz-LwV1MpGsW__WAl5x1zWEc9EX0e6lCzZj37SlcGRl7YvFwIO87u3bm2SxLyOhZqXR42KOm/?imgmax=800" width="229" height="304"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"></font></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">The finished product</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zKmx5I9WEs4/TtvusI18XwI/AAAAAAAAEPk/8Ih-QE43F6M/s1600-h/IMG_8860%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_8860" border="0" alt="IMG_8860" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-g3l1nfpBf94/TtvushQwWgI/AAAAAAAAEPs/wJeLTsxpmhw/IMG_8860_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Chanterelles, on sale for $10/pound, which normally sell for $50/pound!</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-lE-I_Y9IKTI/Ttvus1edavI/AAAAAAAAEP0/J58w6ueNIJQ/s1600-h/IMG_8864%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_8864" border="0" alt="IMG_8864" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-8dXoz6PQY04/TtvutdJ4LwI/AAAAAAAAEP8/Gy5zj0-ePhE/IMG_8864_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Butter dancing across a hot skillet</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-R2J6kHr9za4/Ttvut0niwiI/AAAAAAAAEQE/wilCPo30P8Y/s1600-h/IMG_8871%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="IMG_8871" border="0" alt="IMG_8871" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3gtH6OE5rAs/TtvuuUKm7iI/AAAAAAAAEQM/WW6KQwBLXbo/IMG_8871_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Creamy rice, chanterelles and parmesan cheese. Few ingredients and a rich flavor.</font></p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-18629875925326167022011-11-28T12:55:00.009-07:002011-11-28T12:55:00.444-07:00Turkey TrotJen, Aleka and I participated in a 5K Turkey Trot in Virginia. All three of us have completed at least one 1/2 marathon this fall, so a leisurely 3.1 miles to justify a bit of Thanksgiving gluttony was perfect. Also, coming from Denver meant that Aleka and I were packing more red blood cells than most, so our oxygen delivery was enhanced.<br />
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We all run at different paces so we decided to each run our own race. I was listening to Wolfmother, music I had just picked up and not yet heard. The starting gun sounded, I hit play with no idea what to expect, and was greeted with a sound that has been described as “a balance between meaty vintage metal and crisp, stoner-rock melodies”. The verdict is out as to whether or not Wolfmother will get heavy rotation within my music collection, but with the opening of “Dimension” I knew leisurely was an afterthought.<br />
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Having started in the middle of the pack it was runners, joggers and strollers from curb to curb. I hit the sidewalk, which was instantly crowded too, so I took it one step further, giving runners a bad name, and headed straight into the forbidden…front yards. I hurdled shrubbery, darted across driveways and cut around neatly piled leaves, all at a pace I knew I could not maintain, but that put me into a part of the pack with room to pass.<br />
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I crossed mile one at an even 7:00 and knew it would not last. I saw no mile marker for mile two, began to appreciate the hilly nature of Arlington from minutes 12-20 and was elated to rasp and cough by mile marker three. I crossed the line in 22:27, averaging 7:14 per mile, a personal best. With chest still heaving minutes later Jeff, Jake, Morgan and I cheered Jen and Aleka across the finish line, both of whom finished at a sub-9 minutes/mile pace.<br />
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<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BQ0flHrERvFM-e4Oh_8KSjrhNjw0KoMlA84OUYpc__dLM_-IN5cRKmfiUYje5yTemqUo4xhsykOsg2zxq6Yyjnfqfig3NbibTBDKL_5g26SuKPaFDOid8biNYud4QeBukcbsiyk6IMT-/s1600-h/IMG_6562%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><img alt="IMG_6562" border="0" height="304" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SvcUD0Atshc/TtKVx_dM30I/AAAAAAAAEOM/i1zG0MSbFUs/IMG_6562_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="IMG_6562" width="229" /></span></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The kids want to play on the playground, I desperately want to sit</span></div><br />
Parking was scarce so it was a bit of a walk to where we had parked. Luckily, Arlington County picks up leaves if piled at the curb so Jake, Morgan and I had plenty of distraction, and offered plenty too, en route.<br />
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<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fh1ExXftTHQ/TtKVyOxy7NI/AAAAAAAAEOU/EjdcFOg2Kr0/s1600-h/IMG_6590%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMG_6590" border="0" height="304" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-00iP_i9fgTY/TtKVyjdgWcI/AAAAAAAAEOc/17WuzYxY0iA/IMG_6590_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="IMG_6590" width="229" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQbcJH5hVmFoJuEuU6X9EYGK-ncYbMCh2ZzfsZNivsmp2jpTPKKLgcFpRSasjRCRS-W4ACc4z4ED_eZYReU14eVlQQl6tDtEZL1bm4lLj9AceBO-9ZW4szCstZAM9t5u-_KcIkqykzMfE/s1600-h/IMG_6587%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMG_6587" border="0" height="304" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cbSwaw0Lf8E/TtKV1J6-RII/AAAAAAAAEOs/dYBZgDV0Ez4/IMG_6587_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="IMG_6587" width="229" /></a>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183565091477150189.post-84949146087075306742011-11-27T12:10:00.001-07:002011-11-27T12:10:00.216-07:00A Cyclist is Born<p>My niece, Morgan, told me she had balanced on a bike and wanted to practice with me while I was in Virginia. To hear her tell it she had managed to stay upright while coasting downhill. Not exactly riding a bike, but a huge milestone and a necessary step on the way to full blown pedal crankin’ glory. </p> <p>So, on Thanksgiving morning, with seven enthusiastic onlookers, Morgan, bedecked in a pink shirt and matching helmet, took a gentle push from her Mom and did not just balance, but also pedaled, used brakes and executed turns with aplomb. In short, she rode. She took a spill, heard an encouraging word and shrugged it off and rode more. For the second time on a bike, she absolutely killed it. She bounced off a curb and brushed some bushes and showed some mountain biking chops that will have me upping my trail game when she is older. </p> <p> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-D3vn6yGbTpw/TtKLAPyt1rI/AAAAAAAAENU/lGhh2igRHiA/s1600-h/DSC_0020%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="DSC_0020" border="0" alt="DSC_0020" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xMO_0uwHXL0/TtKLAV0pKdI/AAAAAAAAENc/87rn8OR3kJA/DSC_0020_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="203"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Cranking uphill on the Bicycle Proving Ground (church parking lot)</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fr04pC53A5U/TtKLAzoLgAI/AAAAAAAAENk/276Tm_jLTTQ/s1600-h/DSC_0063%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="DSC_0063" border="0" alt="DSC_0063" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zrzRLqqs518/TtKLBIUNjkI/AAAAAAAAENs/VwkNBjAoFR0/DSC_0063_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="203"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Solid left lean, allowing her weight to make the turn</font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-P_2gzvvxEZM/TtKLBhS66TI/AAAAAAAAEN0/pm3GBg2e6mQ/s1600-h/DSC_0030%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><font size="1"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="DSC_0030" border="0" alt="DSC_0030" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Z2gnJKnb_fc/TtKLB3nhROI/AAAAAAAAEN8/PkR1FQPwfew/DSC_0030_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="203"></font></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1">Me and Jake racing while Mom looks on</font></p> <p>I was on training wheels for a year before I took my first wobbly ride down Rogers Street, at age 6. Since then I have ridden countless miles for pleasures, for commuting, for adventure and sometime just for the experience of moving. Seeing Morgan’s smile made me appreciate the simple joy of riding a bike and the freedom it entails. Here is to a lifetime of riding, for Me, Morgan, Jake and anyone else who finds happiness upon two wheels.</p> Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12073076059992359882noreply@blogger.com1