A Run and Return to Denver

After just a week in the Eastern Sierra I needed to return to Colorado in time for an appointment I really kind of needed to keep. I wasn't really ready to leave sunny mild Mammoth as I got up early Sunday morning for a run. I laced up my shoes and left the Forest Service Shady Rest Campground for a series of newly paved bike paths.

I started slowly heading south of town making an arching loop through brush, sage and just a few trees past a viewpoint and to a park. The path continued on and west into forested Old Mammoth where it gave way to a quiet paved road. From there it was a steady steepening climb up to Twin Lakes in the Mammoth Lakes Basin. I relocated a paved path at Tamarack Lakes and enjoyed a nice smooth gradual downhill route leading me back to the campground for a total run of 1 hour 20 minutes.

When I lived in Mammoth 15 years ago, aside of fall running camps consisting of High School and College teams, I felt like the lone runner. There wasn't much if any kind of a running community living in Mammoth. Area races were small and aside of a few locals they would attract people who happened to be in town on vacation. I had one running friend in Bishop who I'd train with on occasion. I really had no one to run with or even talk about running. In the winter I was absolutely the only runner in Mammoth and spent most of my training time on cross country skis.

In my two years of living there I ran trails and quiet roads between Mammoth and Bishop. Bishop is only about 40 miles away at much lower elevation with a mild winter climate that sees little snow. By time I learned the area I figured it was probably one of the best places in America for a runner to train. I couldn't believe elite runners weren't taking advantage of it. I even posted on an online running message board what I had discovered. Trails, Benton Crossing Road, Round Valley, Etc.

I'm not taking any credit because I know college coaches had already been clued in due to running camps, however, since I've left Mammoth it's become widely known as one of the best places for a distance runner to train in the USA. Many of this years Olympians spent time training in Mammoth and several live there. I've never been anywhere near Olympic caliber but I took my running fairly seriously at one time. It's cool to see.

After the Sunday morning run I drove west into Nevada and through a dust storm near Tonapah. In Ely I took the business route to check out the once vibrant main street turned depressed rows of vacant buildings, faded signs, and broken neon. Tired hotels offer $160 weekly rate and casinos look dark and empty. My father and I visited Ely on a trip out west when I was a young kid. It was an interesting place in 1970's but now it looks tired. Kept alive by what little remains in mining and businesses along the main highway pushing fast food, gas, and accommodation. Your over 100 miles away from any other services so its a must stop for pretty much anyone passing through.

Not too far from Ely is Great Basin National Park. It's a relatively small park with a nice 13,000 foot peak, a few lakes, nice trees, and good views. I located a nice campsite near a stream and out of the gusty wind. I felt very comfortable there and rested for the next days drive into Denver.

Whereas Nevada is full of vast open areas with desert mountains Utah offers desert landscape. Known for it varied red rock canyons and multi colored soil under blue skies and with a mix of cloud the scenery often looks unreal. Utah has the most amazing desert landscape in my opinion. It's never a bore to drive across.

Feeling a little tired I exited onto some BLM land and hiked up a small read dirt hill for a quick view. I noticed the door to my gas tank was open. Damn! Left my gas cap about a 80 miles back when I filled up in Salina. I solved the problem in the next town where I was shocked to find an auto parts store. $10 and the problem was solved.

By time I entered the mountains of Colorado it was raining heavily. I've driven from Glenwood Springs to Denver numerous times under so many weather conditions I think I could do it with my eyes closed. As I neared the Eisenhower tunnel at 11,000 feet the clouds parted a bit and revealed a vibrant Rainbow before me. I fumbled with my camera and took a photo being careful to stay in my lane while driving.

The other side of the tunnel was much worse. Heavy rain with lots of water on the road. A truck passed dangerously fast. I gave a wide berth and truck slowed. Everyone slowed. Eventually I arrived in Denver with skies clearing feeling like the trip was coming to an end and missing the Sierra.

Out of all of the places I've visited this summer I definitely connected with the Sierra the most. Its left quite an impression. At the very least I will return next summer, however, I'm tempted to return sooner. Something about the area clicked for me. I seemed to hit it off with just about everyone I met. Kindred spirits of sorts. Sure you've got the young skier boarder crowd but you also have a wide variety of people, mostly from Southern California, either living there full time, part time, or weekends and holidays. The summers are divine but the winters can get a ton of snow. The good thing is that the winters rarely see extreme cold and there is usually a fair amount of sun.

Oh well, you never really know with me. I could just as easily wind up in Houston, Hawaii, or some country you have never heard of for the winter. I'll just have to see. Thanks to staying with friends and family in various locations along with camping I've managed to keep summer expenses low. Taco Bell, Subway sandwiches, and simple meals over my camp stove have kept food costs to a minimum. My only real expense has been gas. Nonetheless, work will once again become a necessity before too long and I'm ready to try something different to reel in some dollars.

My thought process is shifting. No need to talk anymore about what I'm going to do. I think I'll just talk about what I'm doing.

High Sierra Backpack

It's been too many years since I've hiked in the Sierra Mountains of California but I knew there was something atypical about the weather as I topped Paiute Pass and slowly dropped down into the broad open alpine expanse of Humphreys Basin. I felt it was best to keep moving as I got a late start and the clouds were trying to organize. Once I reached timberline I relaxed and found my way down to a trail intersection with a desirable meadowy area to camp. The skies cleared but still something about the weather seemed odd. After all I was in the mountain range with about as stable and predictable weather you could hope for. Plus, the forecast was all good. Clear and sunny.

Around 10 pm flashes of lightning were coming from somewhere far in the distance. I figured it was just a small passing storm off to the northeast but the flashes persisted. I dozed off and on until around 3 am when the flashes became brighter and thunder followed. A crack and a long roll from the west. A blinding flash and crack with a longer grappley roll. The kind that comes before hail. First a couple of pops on the tent fly. Definitely not rain. A few more. Bam! The ground beneath my tent shook. More lightning and the skies opened. Sheets of pea sized hail banged off the fly of my tent with a deafening tone. The intensity was high for about fifteen minutes as I stayed dry enough and curled up in my sleeping bag. I figured my campsite was pretty safe. Not to worry. The lightning and thunder passed to the East and things calmed. I thought it was over but round round two followed. This time only rain and the lightning and thunder weren't so intense. I thought for a moment I was in Colorado but the Sierra responded, “Welcome back! Why the hell you been gone so long!”

I'd say I feel more of a connection to the Sierra Mountains of California than any other mountain range in the world. I've hiked the John Muir trail from Mt. Whitney to Yosemite Valley, worked as a ranger in the Whitney Ranger District for a summer, climbed numerous peaks, and lead kids on one and took week wilderness backpacking trips and lived in Mammoth Lakes for two years.

The Sierra back country is nothing less than spectacular. Most of the mountains are comprised of granite with many rising above 13,000 feet and some above 14,000 feet. The high country is littered with other worldly lakes amidst basins of granite boulders. The passes are high and often drop off into broad wide open  somewhat arid alpine basins. The range which stretches north to south, roughly 200 miles, is protected by National Parks and Wilderness Areas that are only accessible by foot or horse.

To really fully see and experience the Sierra one needs to venture into the back country but the hiking season is short. You pretty much only have July until about mid September to travel without difficulty. Early summer there is still quite a bit of snow, lots of mosquitoes, and some dodgy stream crossings. By late July passes are clear, mosquitoes are rapidly abating, and stream crossings are not a problem. August is really the best month.

It took me awhile to get started the next morning after the storm as my stuff was pretty wet. Around 10 am I set out under mostly clear skies. By 2 pm the rain and hail were back. This time I was in a deep valley so I took refuge under a large tree with a couple of other backpackers. An hour passed and I continued up to Evolution Valley as the skies began to clear then build again. Late in the day I made it to the end of the Valley and met some other backpackers who were kind of rattled from being atop Muir pass during the afternoon hail storm. I pitched my wet tent and tended to camp chores. Purify water, cook food, stash bear container etc. Just as night fell the skies totally cleared and winds shifted from the North. A very good sign.

The rest of the hike was nothing less than stellar. Muir Pass down to Little Pete Meadow for a peaceful night and up to Bishop pass in the morning with a final night at Long Lake in the presence of Cloudripper Peak. Blue skies with fair weather clouds make the experience all the more enjoyable.

Since my last night out was near the trail head I covered the route in four full days with 4 nights out. I exited the South Lake trial head and noticed an odd familiar smell that reminded me of the refineries in Pasadena, Texas. I then realized the smell was emanating from me. First things first. Shower! A nearby lodge charged me $6 for 10 minutes of glorious hot water. From there I drove down to “Jacks” in Bishop where a friendly old lady kept calling me “kiddo” or something like that and served me a pile of bacon, eggs, and hash browns.

With the day still young I rolled up to Mammoth and dropped of the bear container I rented from the Forest Service and was able to secure the same campsite I stayed in before I left for the back country. Knock on wood my time in the Easter Sierra has really gone well despite some foul weather. This part of my trip out west has really fallen into place. I feel like I've found my stride again and have even entertained the thought of moving back to Mammoth. I've been trying to calculate in my mind how long its been since I lived in Mammoth. I think I left in '98 which makes it 14 years.

In the short time I've been back visiting the Mammoth area I've met a lot of really nice people that I seem to click with. The one thing I really like about mountain resort towns is that there is a good mix of people from all over the place and everyone is happy to be living where they are. In generally people are really more focused on quality of life than any thing else with having fun being the goal. The downside, for me, is that mountain resort towns can feel kind of small  after awhile and can be limiting in that regard. Also, the smaller the community on lives in the less privacy they are likely to have. I quite like cities where there is always something new to be found. I also like having the option to be social and outgoing or anonymous and invisible. Cities are very good for that.

Tomorrow I'll roll back to Colorado where I plan to spend a little more time before wrapping things up and heading down to Houston. I figure I'll get back there just as the heat and humidity start to slightly back off. Oh, and the storm I experienced the first night? The lady at the ranger station today told me that no one  saw it coming. Despite all of the great weather predicting technology of today it caught all of the local weathermen by surprise.

Across Nevada To Mammoth Lakes

After 6 days of basing myself out of Hailey, Idaho I had enough of the forest fire smoke that's filling up the state. I started looking at my options and discovered I was a reasonable days drive from Mammoth Lakes, California and the Sierra Mountains. With forest fires going crazy in the Rockies I figured I could find clear air and blue skies in California. Many thanks to my friend Dan for letting me stay at his home while checking out the Sun Valley region.

I first passed a sign stating no gas for 137 miles then after driving through a small town I saw another sign for no gas 167 miles. Nevada is full of a whole lot of nothing except for desert and arid mountains. On the few paved highways that exist you can go a long way between meeting another car. It makes for easy driving on two lane roads. In a little over 10 hours I rolled into Mammoth.

I have some good memories of Mammoth. I lived in the relatively isolated ski town for two years in the second half of the 1990's. The summers were the high point but the winters were pretty good with huge amounts of snow. Before living in Mammoth I spent time in the area on several occasions visiting.

I was first introduced to town in 1989 while working for a YMCA camp in the San Bernadino Mountains of Southern California. The Y maintains and keeps a base camp right outside of Mammoth consisting of a few old buildings with rustic amenities for Los Angeles area YMCA groups to use. The director of the camp I worked at had ties to the Mammoth camp so he brought me up for a few days and got me acquainted with the area. Something about the place really grabbed me.

I returned to Mammoth in 1993 and introduced myself to the director of the base camp. We immediately hit it off and became quick friends. His name was Jim. The following year I worked as a Wilderness Ranger in the Mt. Whitney district not too far from Mammoth. Jim was back for another season so Mammoth kind of became a place for me to hang out on some of my days off. I'd sleep in my van. During the day I'd hang out with Jim and his girlfriend pitching horseshoes, hiking around etc. If there wasn't a camp group we would drink a few beers. Again, the place really grabbed me. 

It's been 14 years since I've spent time in Mammoth. I can't believe its been so long. I arrived a little later in the afternoon yesterday so I quickly pitched camp in a Forest Service campground in town. From there I drove up to the Y camp. As I entered the grounds everything appeared just like it was the first time I saw it in '89. I didn't see any camp groups but I did notice a guy with three dogs looking at me disapprovingly. I drove up to him and one of the dogs jumped up at my open window scratching the door. I explained who I was and the guy responded inhospitably with and Australian accent. He didn't seem to know anything and informed me the director was off for a few days because no camp groups were scheduled. I asked him if I could look around. He said it was OK.

Sometimes I'll feel a strong impression or vibe about a location. As I stared at the old buildings, outdoor showers, group campfire ring, porcelain YMCA sign and a stack of canoes I suddenly remembered all of the good times I had had there just like it was yesterday. It was as if I was remembering something special and once known that has somehow been lost or forgotten. The feeling was very strong and I began to feel emotion almost to tears. It was quite strange for me. A deep connection of sorts. I stood for awhile and listened to the wind blowing through the trees and breathed in clean fresh air with a scent unique to the eastern Sierra. I then collected myself and drove off disappointed I hadn't met the current director instead of the guy with the three dogs. Maybe he would have recognized a name and/or would have invited me to camp on the premises like past directors. I might have made a new friend but on the other hand things change, people move on, and names are forgotten.

From the camp I went to the old pizza joint where I use mix cheap beer with cheap pizza slices while chatting it up with the bar tender. Well, the place has been remodeled, the prices raised, and the service mediocre. No longer frequented by locals the atmosphere was completely different. I left without ordering anything. From there I drove up to the Hotel I use to work at on the ski mountain. It had been remodeled. Although the A framed bar still offers a grand view I passed on the $6.75 draft and was a bit turned off by the uppity uppityness of changes.

Actually, Mammoth is looking a lot better these days. Things have really been cleaned up. When I lived here it was kind of dumpy and full of shoddily built somewhat tacky condos but there was charm in that. Intrawest, a resort development company, came in just as I was leaving and to their credit have done a nice job. For better or for worse depends on how you look at it.

So, after the long drive and feeling a bit out of sorts I searched out a bar/restaurant with a local feel. My internal sonar led me to he Outlaw Saloon where two friendly world traveling outdoor enthusiast gals were running things. Two beers and two slices of pizza I was feeling much better. I spent the evening swapping stories with Ashley about India and about China with Lindsey.

This morning I went for a 6 mile run followed by a 10 mile hike. On a whim I picked up a permit from the forest service office to embark on a 4 to 5 backpack. I bought food and got my stuff together and am prepared to leave tomorrow morning unless I change my mind at the last minute. I only have one week left until I need to be back in Denver. I wish I had more time for Mammoth and the Sierra's. The region still holds a special appeal to me. In a way I kind of wish I'd gotten here a little sooner this summer. I guess I was distracted by the Alaska idea. Anyway, I feel like I'm on the right track and am having a good time.

Borah - The Top Of Idaho

The crux of the the ascent is a section known as “Chicken Out Ridge”. Some will tell you it's nothing while others turn back in fear. Most proceed with caution. For about a quarter mile one must negotiate a rocky exposed sometimes knife edged ridge. Some try to avoid the ridge by down climbing and traversing low but all reports say staying along the top is the best option. It's also the most airy.

In reality its really not that bad. Just a head game. The rock is good and the options are plenty. As long as one takes their time its really quite safe. For me it had been awhile since I had done a class 3 traverse. Class 3 neccessitates the use of hands while climbing and falling is not an option. The old familiarity of having done many class 3 peaks years ago seemed a little vague and foreign as I reminded myself it was well within my ability. Don't think about the height. Just go. The ridge held my full attention.

I was happy to have met 3 other climbers at the beginning of the ridge to help sort out route finding which added an element of comfort. They were all in their 50's. One was a man from Texas and the other two a couple from California. The California couple was quite Californian. The guy was kind of goofy and cracked silly comments along the way. The woman is an Asian runner and a veteran of over 100 marathons. The called me Timex because I was wearing a hat that said, “Timex”, on it. I assumed I'd meet other climbers otherwise my general rule these days is nothing solo above class 2 which is generally steep hiking with a little easy scrambling.

The 20 foot downclimb at the end of the traverse was the hardest part as foot holds were a little hidden. Still no problem. Especially since I was the third to go and the other climbers told me where to put my feet. No problem. I knew it would be much easier going up on the way back. From that point it was just a steep loose slog up scree to the highest point in Idaho. Borah Peak, 12,662 ft. With an elevation change of 5,500 feet in 3.5 miles it made for one of the more honest peak climbs I've done in some time.

Once on top I spent time enjoying the view as other people summited. With many forest fires burning in Idaho I could see lots of smoke in the valleys but it was clear above the 10,000 foot level. A pile of rocks with flags and register boxes decorated the somewhat small summit.

After a half hour or so on top I started the descent with the Texan I had crossed the ridge with. He is from Mineral Wells. I got the impression he likes to burn up his vacation time climbing peaks. We decided it would be best to cross back over the class 3 ridge together. Although the going was a little slow there were no problems. Just lots of blue sky and the valley smoke was clearing. From the end of the ridge a rocky path and steep dusty trail led me back to my car. The round trip took just under 8 hours.

Not Looking For The End

The writer stares at a blank page like question mark without a sentence. "Give it up I think", as it doesn't seem to be happening. I'll get back to it. Twenty years later I think it's probably not going to change. The guitar is dusty and needs a new set of strings. I never saw myself as one to play late nights upon a corner stage or house concerts for the 50 and over crowd. I've got a little bit of time before 50 and I'm in no rush to get there. However, 25 seems like awhile ago and I'm loosing my taste for alcohol. I feel like I need to run High Octane for awhile. Step up the exercise just a little. Eat more fruits and vegatables. Continue to remove distractions. Run up the hills a little faster and drive a bit less.

At $4 a gallon for gas I know I'm in a resort economy. Sun Valley has no shortage of rich old people to fill the music tent for a classical concert. Acoustic strings are clear and warm in the dry summer air but nearby forest fires are making things smokey. A clear morning faded into a dark evening as smoke bellowed in. My clothes smell like I've been camping next to the campfire all night.

The mornings are clear and cool with little smoke so I ran up a narrow canyon of bare hills and agricultural valley. My strength is strong but legs are at a loss for speed as I feel gravity pulling backwards while ascending the uphill dirt road. Turning back I feel lighter as a breeze pushes me downhill retracing my steps. Over the last month I feel like I've regained a good portion of the old mountain athlete fitness I once had. Not too bad.

Feeling a case of valley disorientation I stepped into the Kethchum Forest Service office this morning. An older fellow with long grey hair and missing teeth very helpfully filled me up with maps and brochures full of wonderful hiking options. Ah, but the smoke. Again, it's not bad in the morning. Overnight winds shift and cool temps calm it down. I see a string of hikes with early starts.

Hopefully, the dry front with strong winds due to pass this afternoon won't blow up the fires that are already burning. The radio says a crew from Kentucky is on the way to help with the situation. Rain would nice but there's not even a chance of a thunderstorm until next week. Sunday at the earliest. A passing storm might do more to make the situation worse as lightning tends to be the number once cause of fires in the Western United States.

My only obstacle is smoke but above it all is blue sky and a brisk jetstream with an occsional weather front to stir things up. In a valley surrounded by mountains there are many options for a hike up to a beautiful place where one can put off tomorrow in exchange for a narrow trail thru timber and rock. To rise above treeline and gain an exposed ridge for a grand view of distance is the goal. Sign a summit register here and there before returning to where one began to start all over again. The trail never ends for one who is not looking for the end.

The Top Of The Bitteroots & Into Idaho

After four fun filled days in Missoula it was time for me to head south. I've always wanted to check out the Sawtooh Mountains and Sun Valley area of Idaho. My friend Dan, who I've sailed with in the Carribean, has a place in Hailey, Idaho. We've stayed in touch over the years and now turned out to be the perfect time to take him up on his open invitation to drop in for a visit. Like me, Dan has developed an aversion to cold weather so he spends his summers in Idaho and winters in the Carribean working as a captain on everything from tugs to reasearch boats.

I had a really good time in Missoula and felt like my time there may have been a little short but the American West has so much to offer for a hiker and lover of natural outdoor beauty like myself. There's so much to see and do with the prime months being July until sometime in September when the mountains get their first snow. For those seeking the high country its a short season and the clock is ticking. Do or don't do? Who knows what next year will bring? Might as well go for it now. I seem to have shaken the indecision of July and find myself on a nice kind of road trip with a good flow. Driving to Alaska still tugs my interest but now it's a little late to consider such an option. I'm quite content hiking trails and peaks withing closer regions I've never been. It's all good.

Yesterday I rallied on my way down to Idaho and hiked to the top of Trapper Peak, the highest mountain in the Bitteroot range of Montana. A drive up a narrow forest service road followed by a steady hike/climb of 4 miles with a 3,800 ft. elevation gain lead me to a rocky summit affording excellent views of the surrounding rugged mountains. I've got my hiking legs back so the ascent went quickly as I didn't feel a need to take a break until I reached the summit. Once on top I hung out for an hour before descending.

With Trapper in the bag I followed highway 93 south to Salmon, Idaho. As I neared Salmon I drove into a river valley canyon under skies heavily tainted red, brown, and black from a nearby forest fire. With few cars on the road there was a eerie feel to it all as the smoke seemed to descend the further I drove into it. I rolled into Salmon as ash swirled about. I asked a local where the fire was. She replied a name of some canyon like I knew where it was and said the smoke was getting worse.

I continued south out of Salmon with lungs full of smoke searching for a light at the end of it all. Sure enough the smoke began to lighten. Looking in my rearview morror the sky was taking on a darker shade of black. Like a thunderstorm except there were no clouds. Just smoke. I turned west off 93 at Chalis and headed towards Stanley where another fire was burning. Fortunately the smoke was not near as bad. When the road turned south and I could see the Sawtoothed ridges of the Sawtooth range. Really impressive looking mountains. Unlike other ranges I've seen. It's really interesting how varied the mountains can be in the western states of the USA.

It was a little longer of drive than aticipated but I made Hailey before dark. Dan was happy to greet me as he was finishing up a project of removing a fire place insert that had been installed sometime around 1890. Dan has owned the home for a few years and each summer does a little more to return it to a more original state.

Of the remaining Western Victorian homes most have been victims of bad improvements starting around the 1960's. Vinyl siding over shingles over original siding. Hard wood floors hidden by shag carpets. Plaster walls covered with wood paneling. Shody kitchen and bathroom improvemets with leaks that cause wood rot. Etc. Etc. You get the idea. What were people thinking? Often times these old homes are found in areas that were depressed before they became trendy.

In the fixing up process some interesting things have surfaced including a couple of syrup cans that I estimate are around 100 years old and a gun powder tin from 1924. Also, a few bottles etc. Dan keeps hoping he might find an old jar of coins or something.

Dan, being one of the nicest easy going people you could ever meet gave me quick, Mi Casa Su Casa, tour before we went out to grab some dinner. I'm not sure how long I'll be in the Sun Valley area. Today its just nice to hang out with sunny beautiful weather and comfortable temperatures. Actually, it's kind of cold in the mornings.

Included with this post are some photos of my hike up Trapper Peak.

Surfing Through Montana

I knew the guy looking up at the prominent figure was JFK but I wasn't sure who the figure actually was. A Texas style honky tonk band played and union made Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer flowed freely. A swishy young guy looking suspiciously like Dana Carvey practiced west coast swing with a hot young lady sporting great legs. Pool tables sat over my left shoulder and bench seating for food service hugged the wall over to my right. The bar was to my back and an obnoxious pillar blocked a full view of the band. My friend Annette fidgeted with cell phone wondering where everyone was. The place was half full.

Finally one of Annette’s friends showed up wearing boots, jeans, and a frilly sort of black top accenting a particular style of Montana beauty. She had been out branding cattle all day and really needed a gin and tonic. As we talked about her upcoming move to Alaska the bass player, Jett Duanne, all jacked up on red bull and beer, said hello before returning to a repertoire of Hank, Merle, and Willie. Meanwhile the place began to fill.

I'm not sure of the exact history but the Union Club is as the name states. A Union Club. The figure on the large photo poster print was Jimmy Hoffa with an apparent past Montana Senator. Original old decor, native to a space that's seen very little change, gives the club a good authentic feel. A classic neon sign greets all that enter but the adult shop next door provides an odd contrast. From what I can tell Montana is pretty much a straight shootin no bullshit kind of place and the Union Club seemed to confirm my suspicions.

By 11pm the club seemed pretty full. A crowd gathered around our table and I struck up a conversation with a man who left Missoula when his wife wanted to move back to Washington D.C.,. You could tell he was really missing Montana and made everyone fully aware of the distaste for the nations capitol. I personally think Washington is pretty cool and suggested he take more notice at what all there is. He thought my advice was good but responded by saying, “It's not Missoula”. People of Missoula really seem to like it here and from what I can tell not many have any interest in leaving.

Missoula is a University town offering a dressed down lifestyle appealing to outdoor enthusiasts and hippies. The old locals are salt of the earth ranchers and everyone seems to blend together just fine. Summers are very nice but the winters are hard, long and cold. They call the snow out here, “Cold Smoke”.

Since arriving in Missoula on Thursday my time has been packed. I've been staying with a friend I haven't seen since 1994. Her name is Annette and we worked together as Wilderness Rangers in the Aspen Ranger District 1990-91. Thanks to Facebook we reconnected and have had a really good time catching up. Starting Thursday evening I got the bike tour around town, followed by Friday hiking all day and partying all night at the Union Club. I must add the party/celebration kind of revolved around Annette just paying off her mortgage. Saturday was a inner tube float down the Bitteroot River and today, Sunday, a hike up to a mountain peak to a fire lookout tower.

At the beginning of the Summer the idea of driving to Alaska really appealed to me but I've decided its just a bit to far and a little too expensive to do on my own right now. Not to mention, it's a lot of driving. I'm doing well rolling around visiting people I haven't seen in a long time while getting in hikes along the way. All in all its turning out to be a pretty good summer. It's nice to take time to visit parts of the American West I've never seen and its reminding me of how much there is to do in the good 'ol USA.

From Missoula I'll venture a relatively short distance down to Idaho where I'll catch up with another friend I haven't seen in a long time, Captain Dan. More good times and hikes to come. Below are a few photos from a couple of hikes in the nearby Selway Bitteroot Wilderness. One is a view from inside the fire lookout on St Marys and the pack train that happened to be going up with supplies.

North Dakota Into Montana

Rolling across the Big Sky of eastern Montana it's 40, 50, 60 miles between odd small towns offering next to nothing. About the only thing worth noticing in passing is a large homemade billboard sign declaring Meth kills. Driving the speed limit of 70 mph seems kind of fast and dangerous along old paved narrow roads that hug the lay of the land somewhat like a roller coaster through vast hilly wheat fields. Miles go by before I meet another vehicle. The crest of each hill comes abruptly as I'm hitting about 75 mph with a set of good tires and clear head. Should I meet another vehicle atop I hope the other driver is as attentive. After all, in this beautiful wide open land meth kills and I've noticed a fair number of metal white crosses. Probably best not to drive at night.

Before I left North Dakota I visited the North Section of Theodore Roosevelt National Park for a hike and a run. A herd of wild Buffalo grazed through the campground and I fell asleep to flashes of lightning from a storm passing south.

In the morning I ventured a little north to catch a road west into Montana. I quickly found myself in a convoy of giant diesel trucks hauling all kinds of oil field equipment. Large makeshift trailer communities scattered out upon open farmland like a Fema camp or tent city from a time gone by. Drilling rigs, oil tanks, dusty Ford Pickups and rough necks reaping the benefits of a boom. Nothing pretty about it but considering good pay and overtime within a sluggish economy there's a strong appeal for a man who isn't afraid of day after day manual labor, crude jokes, and a red neck. I sensed a cool frenzy about it all. Get while the gettins good. You never know how long a boom is going to last. I turned at a busy intersection leaving the boom behind but wondered how much a person could make in a months time?

After driving all afternoon across the roads of Eastern Montana it came time to call it a day in the vicinity of White Sulfur Springs. I thought it might be kind of an interesting place but actually it's just a small town in the middle of an open plane with dodgy bars, a few shops, a couple of decent simple motels, and a campground full of trailers which are likely homes of those who frequent the bars. None of the small towns I passed through had a grocery store. They just have a convenience store that may or may not have something that isn't fried. I picked a pre-made salad that looked pretty good and headed up to the nearby Lewis & Clark National Forest where I found a campground all to myself next to a stream in an idyllic grove of trees.

All in all I really enjoyed the wide open spaces, little traffic, and sparse populations of Eastern Montana. However, I imagine the winters have got to be brutally cold and windy.

At the moment I'm sipping Guatemalan coffee in a trendy modern coffee shop located in the conservative capitol city of Helena. From here I'll drive about two hours to Missoula where I'll catch up with a Forest Service Wilderness Ranger I use to work with in Aspen during the summers of 1990-91.

North Dakota - White Butte

I've never had any reason to visit North Dakota but I wish I would have bought real estate here about 4 years ago. A local of Medora just told me they sold a house for $75,000 four years ago that now sells for over $200,000! North Dakota is having an oil boom at the moment. I'm still looking for a crystal ball.

Yesterday was a full day. I left Denver at 7am and headed straight north up through Wyoming and into the Black Hills of South Dakota. I was one of just a few cars in the Black Hills as it's Sturgis Biker week. It's the largest motorcycle rally/party in the world that revolves around the legendary American motorcycle, Harley Davidson. I passed through the hills skirting around Sturgis within in a crowd of chrome, leather, and people who love the sun but detest sunscreen. There also appeared to be a mass aversion to wearing a helmet. The roads in and around the Black Hills are awesome for the motorcycle enthusiasts and the entire region is full on geared up for it with “Bikers Welcome” signs all over the place.

With a little bit of biker culture and the Black Hills behind me I kept heading north to what I'll refer to as #49. North Dakota is the 49th state for me to visit. Aside of wanting to tag another state I figured I might as well make it worthwhile by hiking up to the highest point and visiting a National Park.

By 4pm I was rolling through Bowman just south of “White Butte”, the highest point in North Dakota. Twenty five miles north then a right for five miles of dusty gravel road. Another right to an abandoned farmhouse and a make shift sign announcing “Road Closed”, the start for the 1.5 mile hike up to the butte. Also in place was a large loosely attached mail box hawking donations to keep access to “White Butte” open. A beer fund for whoever owns the land I suppose. Although the high points resides on private property the owners don't have a problem with people climbing it. Overall, visits are fairly minimal.

White Butte is a cluster of badland hills surrounded by farmland. The area around the butte is decorated with trees, perennial creeks, and small canyons. It was probably an ideal place at one time for Indians but now it favors rattlesnakes. Especially in the summer. Around 5pm I changed into a pair of jeans, leather boots, and dug out a couple of hiking sticks. I then began a foot stompin walk up and old rutted farm road towards the butte. Rattlesnakes are very sensitive to vibration. Slinging hiking sticks and making noise with my boots would more than likely run them off before I even knew they were there.

The hills before me and farmland behind me really were beautiful. The temperature was just starting to fall of its high of 97 degrees and a slight wind was kicking up. The skies were clear and blue. It felt really nice and peaceful to walk after driving all day. After a half mile of old farm road I crossed through a gate and began a straight forward hiking ascent up a hard clay hill to a grassy bench and grove of trees. From there it was just a little further up to a rock pile, survey marker, and metal box with a register. The breeze kicked up a little more so I enjoyed the view for awhile. Old abandoned farmhouse to the north, large hay bales in the distance, white hills to the east, trees and scrub below, a herd of cattle to the northwest, sun falling to the west, and no sign of anyone. My car was hardly noticeable at the far end of the old farm road.

The entire round trip only took about an hour and a half and was completely rattlesnake free. Feeling revived from the days drive I deposited a couple dollars in the mailbox and boarded my dust covered car. I then backtracked to the main highway where I headed to Theodore Roosevelt National Park to camp for the night.

Clarity In Hiking

Rolling back to Denver for a few days seems to have been the right thing to do. From Denver it's an easy drive to loads of good hikes so I've used my mothers home for a base and have headed up to the hills during the day. As of late the weather has been spectacular. Colorado is known for afternoon thunderstorms that often turn violent. It's one of the most likely places in America to get struck by lightning. The general rule is to be headed off mountain tops and high ridges by noon. Valleys offer a lot more protection and are relatively safe when lightnins in the air. Since my arrival in Colorado the mountain storms have been frequent and early but the past couple of days have been stellar. It's nice when you can stand atop a pass well into the afternoon under cobalt blue skies and nary a worry of a storm. It reminds me of my time in Sierras of California which boasts the most stable summer weather of all North American mountain ranges.

Having ascended all of Colorado's 54, 14,000 ft. peaks years ago I've since been chipping away at the remaining 100 highest peaks. While most of Colorado's mountains can be ascended via a relatively safe hike/scramble up talus and boulders a few are technical and downright dangerous. Not sure I'll get the 100 highest due to 3 or 4 that pose risks I'll not likely take.

A couple of days ago I climbed number 70 which turned out to be an exceptionally pleasant ascent past small lakes, tarns, and waterfalls. 13,951 ft Fletcher peak lies in the middle of the Ten Mile and Mosquito ranges near Breckenridge. At the beginning of the hike/climb I noticed a group of mountain goats high above upon a cliff ledge as you might expect. As I laced up my boots and adjusted my pack I was surprised to see three of the goats literally run down the cliffs to great me like cattle coming in for feed. I got really close to them and took a few photos but they didn't seem to be interested in food. They were just curious. There's no way I was going to feed them anyway. Human food is generally not good for wild animals and feeding them is in no way beneficial to their well being. I assume hikers or fisherman may have thrown a few granola bars their way and that's why they were so interested in me. However, I have come across Mtn goats in the past that are simply curious. I've just never gotten photos of such a nice group so close.

The hike up Fletcher was very pleasant and offered a nice variety of scenery. I had the area all to myself and only saw one set of boot prints that appeared to be from the day before. As often happens when I hike in the mountains thoughts flow freely and sometimes I'll even have a conversation with myself out loud. If someone were to see me talking to myself it might appear a bit odd but the exercise of doing so seems to help me be a little more objective when sorting out my thoughts. As I hiked down the peak I experienced a moment of clarity. A segment of time where everything feels peacefully clear and all seems right and perfectly situated in the scheme of things. Where is I've felt out of the flow for the past month I suddenly felt like I was back on track. Where I'm supposed to be. Time that may have felt squandered, wasted or not used efficiently may actually be a part of what I call the process. Life lessons are a process where timing and flow may not always be synchronized to ones desired rhythm. Knowing when to execute a move, make a decision, or initiate a change can be riddle.

Yesterday I joined a small group on a nice in the James Peak Wilderness up to Rodgers pass. There were 7 of us. It was organized through an informal outing club based out of Boulder that I used to hike and climb with on occasion when I lived there over eight years ago. Due to 5 star weather we stayed out all day. Ages varied from 20's to 40's and everyone swapped stories of hikes climbs and world travels. It kind of made me second guess why I live in Houston. When in Houston I'm and oddity of sorts but in Colorado not so much. However, I don't feel any kind of real pull to move back. Despite missing the skiing I really don't miss cold winters. Below are a few photos of my recent hikes. Tomorrow I'll roll on and make my way towards Montana.

I Need A Business Plan

Yesterday I had two intersections to contend with and several good options. My friend Mike made a great recommendation on a back road route to the Wind River Mountains where I'd could hike on endless paths through pristine wilderness filled with lakes and 13,000 ft. peaks. How could I go wrong with that? Perfect!

I bid farewell to the Aspen area as I rolled down hill from Snowmass Village. The first intersection was easy. Take a left and drive North. Forty minutes later I arrived in Glenwood Springs and was once again faced with another left or right decision. I took pause and walked around town for awhile.
 
Backpacking in the Wind Rivers sounded like a great idea but for some reason I just wasn't feeling it. I struggled with sensibility, intuition, and the riddle of should. Seize the opportunity in the moment before it slips away. Isn't that the right thing to do? I was wrestling with an internal struggle. After wasting time for an hour or so I made a decision.

With Denver only a 3 hour drive to the East I chose to head back to the Front Range for a couple of days. Although it felt like the right thing to do I can't say it made all that much sense. However, I think I know what's going on.

I could go into long winded philosophical rambles of why I'm currently drifting along like a confused Sadhu in the middle of the ocean on bamboo raft with a bag of coconuts and no rudder. However, I'd just be going in circles which I'm already very good at. Intersections in life are one thing but the roundabouts really throw me sometimes. Simply put, I'm tired of doing everything on my own.

As I near the age of 47 I know for sure that I don't want to spend the rest of my life in the confines of singleness. I've spent more than enough time solo reflecting on life like a Tibetan Monk holed up in a cave chanting “Om Mani Padme Hum” year after year. I'm tired of the desert so to speak and I have no desire to live in cave. I'm not fond of bats.

Right now I feel if I were with the right woman, who shared similar interests as myself, we would probably be on some adventure more fulling than what I've already accomplished. The idea of hiking into the wilderness for X amount of days, by myself, seems like a lonely proposition at the moment.

The next time someone tells me, “Oh you will find someone when your ready”, “It will happen when you least expect it”, or, any number of pithy cliches I will likely respond, “Bullshit!” Excuse me, but I think I have the right to be a little cynical at this point in my life.

Some people luck into a Hollywood moment and it all works out but I'd say counting on a “cliche” is like betting on a long shot. For those who get married, statistically, there's only a 25% chance of really being happy. Half get divorced. Of the half who stay married only half will claim to be content and fulfilled. With those kind of odds I pretty much think a person is better off pursuing a compatible mate like a project. The kicker is that one has to be totally honest and discerning. Although I definitely feel there needs to be an element of chemistry I don't put much faith in cupid, fireworks in the afternoon, or the excitement of moving too fast.

Aside of having common interests and goals I think the most important thing is that each person simply like being around each other through the unexciting day to day ups and downs, ins and outs, of life. In my opinion most enter a relationship with priorities out of order and la la dreams with an idealistic picture in their head of how things will be. I think if you wake up in the morning on a ho hum day and ask yourself, “Is my life better with or with out this person”, and its clear your better off with them, then your probably doing pretty good.

Nobody is perfect. Everyone has issues. We all have our ups and downs. You can't change anyone. 50/50 doesn't work it's gotta be 100/100. The wrong woman can destroy a man but the right woman can make man (Vice/Versa). Your a thousand times better alone than with the wrong person but life can be infinitely better with the right person...... I believe these are a few truths gained through experience or by observing many others relationships.

Undoubtedly my unorthodox traveling lifestyle coupled with the fact that I have often relished in the freedom of singleness has made finding a compatible mate very difficult. I've put too much faith into the random and more than likely caste a blind eye to opportunities along the way while chasing some self oriented goal. So, how should I start to remedy the issue? Having worked for a start up company I think I have a good idea as to how to go about it.

First I need a business plan. The thing I'm marketing is who I am. The target market is who I'm trying to attract. What is it I want and definitely don't want? Where is my target market? Maybe Nunavik isn't the place. Not good odds there. Advertising could be in the form of online dating sites which seem to be frequented by just about anyone who is single these days. Networking would include social events. Once a potential partner is found the next step might be a focus group. This could be as simple as introducing the candidate to friends but friends MUST provide honest feedback otherwise the study is flawed.

I do think the process is a different for men and women. Women simply need to get out and circulate. Men are expected to make the first move. Most of the time the man only has one chance so a guy has to take initiative. Often times it can feel a little awkward. Almost always the woman will give off an aire of disinterest which may or may not mean she is interested. At the end of the day it's all a lot of work and can be a bit confusing at times but a man must persist like a neanderthal with a club of charm. Everyone says they don't want to play games but in the beginning everyone is playing a game to one degree or another.

For someone my age I can honestly say I'm packing light. No kids, never married and financially responsible. Relationships for me have been followed by long segments of singleness. I've never been one to search for a band aide right after a breakup. I've always had women friends and have the wisdom to know that as a man I will never understand the ways of woman. I don't think all women are crazy but some people are definitely nutz. I'm a good person and live what I consider to be an interesting life. If a women really wants to meet a nice good guy, well, I believe I'm one of them. I'm not one for senseless drama and needless conflict.

So, to sum it all up, I'm a Libra. A big fan of Tex Mex food. My favorite color is blue. I like long walks on the beach. The sound of waves blocks the ringing in my ears. I don't own a TV.