RockyChrysler™

How can that be? How can that be?!

2012-01-21T14:01:00.000-07:00

"How can that be? How can that be?!" shouted my daughter, her eyes searching mine earnestly, desperately for some sign that it was all a big joke.

But by the expression on my face she knew: it was no joke. It was the truth. The awful, unbelievable truth...

Darth Vader really was Luke's father.

It's a shock the first time you're told. In fact, it personally took me years, all the way up until the premiere of Return Of The Jedi, to fully believe it.

How can that be? And yet, it is.

I know I'm not alone among parents of my generation to experience the strange sense of fulfillment, the hard-to-articulate sense of the-circle-being-unbroken that comes from watching through the entire Star Wars anthology with your kid for the first time. The movies are chock-full of suck in spots, and are, at so many turns such a gross disappointment in terms of plot and character, that it's always surprising to me just how much I enjoy them, especially when taken together as a whole set of six films.

Especially when viewed over the course of several evenings with your wife and kid beside you, while the movies play on your big, grown-up flatscreen TV and John William's score rises and falls triumphantly through the custom home theater sound system of which you are so proud. Much better than watching them at Harkins. That's what I think.

We'd been waiting for years to watch the Star Wars movies with her, holding out for that perfect moment in time when my wife and I were both comfortable with her readiness. Our kid was aware of this, too, eagerly awaiting the day along with us. She'd heard us refer fondly to the movies many times over the years. And I'd even given her my Jabba the Hutt action figure to play with years ago, when she was still very small, in anticipation of her one day meeting him on film. He's been a permanent resident of her Barbie play house ever since.

A few days after we concluded our week-long marathon through episodes IV, V, VI, I, II, and III (in that order, natch), we made our way down to Bookman's on a Saturday afternoon, as is our regular habit most weekends. As usual, we had each gathered a few things for the trade counter. Me, a couple of old CDs; my wife, a few old books; and our daughter, a few well-loved DVDs she'd watched a million times. Strangely, however, the DVDs she'd picked out to trade-in on this day were a half-dozen of her favorite Barbie movies.

We've come-and-gone through the Wiggles, the Backyardigans, even High School Musical, but to-date she'd never ever considered even the mere suggestion that she should trade-in her Barbie movies at Bookman's and exchange them for something else. But, for whatever reason, this time, all on her own, she'd put a selection of her most-favorite movies in our trade counter sack.

And what did she select in-trade to replace her beloved Barbie movies?

A Princess Leia and two Ewok figurines.

Star Wars figures! How awesome is that?

"But why?" I asked her.

"So my Jabba has some real friends."

So, yeah, after the funeral

2012-01-08T17:30:00.002-07:00

So, yeah, after the funeral, which was, my-hand-on-my-heart, easily the most uplifting and inspiring funeral I've ever been to, we all drove over to the Val Vista Lakes Country Club for a nice catered buffet luncheon that was more like a reunion of old friends and loved ones than it was a time of mourning, which, as his mother said, was "exactly what Christian would have wanted." Christian's friend, who spent most of the day with him the day he died, gave a wonderful, courageous, and composed retelling of all that they did together, up to the moment they parted... with the words, "Wear your seatbelt."

"Which he didn't," she added. "And, so, yeah, that's what happened."

So, yeah, after the funeral, the next day, Christian's dad Derrill and I, and about 8 of his regular riding buddies, headed out onto the Hawes trails in the far-east Valley together for a ride. It was an ideal morning and the trails were perfect.

"How many times do you think we did the same kind of thing when we were eighteen?" he and I both wondered aloud as we were preparing our gear and getting ready to start.

"And got away with it. Survived."

"Dozens."

"Easily." Dozens of near-misses. Dozens of dumb-moves. And somehow, we survived. For some reason Christian didn't.

Can't explain that.

So, yeah, after the funeral, on our ride today Derrill cleaned the big climb, called Cardiac, for the first time ever. "I wanted to do that, for Christian. And I did," he told us all when we reached the top together.

No one really knew what to say. We were just a bunch of speechless, sweaty guys astride their bikes at the top of a climb. So what was done at that moment was precisely what has been done a billion times before, at the top of a billion similarly challenging climbs cleaned for the first time: fist bumps, high fives, pats on the back.

But I know what we all meant was, "We're so sorry, man. This sucks. Your strength's not just in your legs today. Well done, my friend. Well done."

Christian

2012-01-02T08:23:00.000-07:00

Parenthood changes everyone. It just does.

As a father, one change I've noted in myself is that I tend to assess individuals based not on the firmness of their handshake, or the smile they wear on their face. Truthfully, on most occasions, I tend to judge people based on how they react to, and subsequently behave toward, our daughter, Bekah. Like most fathers, my child means the world to me. Therefore, the quickest route into my good graces, into my favor, is to be kind to, and to listen to, and to include her in real, honest, and genuine ways.

Christian, the oldest son of my oldest-friend, Derrill, has always been more than kind to our daughter; he is her friend, despite the vast difference in their ages. He epitomizes the way a young man should behave toward a kid like ours. And his tender-hearted treatment of others is not unique to the way he treats Bekah. It likewise is demonstrated in the genuine and abiding love and compassion he shows at all times toward his younger brother with special needs, Alexandre.

I've been fortunate, during many hikes and talks and shared meals, to be able to get to know Christian over the years, first as a child, and more recently as a fine young man about to graduate from high school. For the record: He's a really great guy with an easy smile and a friendly, compelling demeanor.

Late last night we found out that Christian was killed in a car crash.

This should never happen.

Yet it has.

My heart breaks for my old friend Derrill and his family.

More each moment as the reality of this awful thing sinks in more terribly.

I have no other words.

An artifact of my ride

2011-12-23T20:03:00.002-07:00

I was feeling pretty good yesterday morning when I awoke. We were in Phoenix. It was 50 degrees outside with overcast skies. So, of course, I went on a bike ride.

Like all good rides in Phoenix, this one began with a 25 minute drive in the car to the trailhead... which is really just a huge parking lot filled with nice cars, wedged between a golf course and a subdivision.

Anyway.

Based on how my ride turned out, I think it's safe to conclude that my previously mentioned banged-uppedness might be just a bit more profound than I originally thought. I've got a pretty good sense now that what I'd hoped was a bit of bruising and tenderness from a pole-grip to the ribs may, in fact, be something a bit more notable and less quick-to-heal. Like a crack or a fracture... again.

I got about 4 miles and 1000 vertical feet and an uncomfortable number of dabs into my ride up South Mountain's National Trail (always one heck of a tough trail) yesterday when my rib began to hurt quite badly. I had planned on only a slightly a longer ride, up to the towers and back, but instead, given my growing discomfort, elected to turn back at the 4.5 mile mark, just at the top of the saddle that begins the short descent into the Buena Vista parking lot. So I ended up riding only about 9 miles. But they were 9 tough miles, 9 painful miles, 9 miles where it would have been nice to bunny-hop or ride over or down this or that tricky-trap, but which became 9 miles of caution and wincing instead.

While I was out, I ran across a couple of dudes with a Go-Pro camera on a tripod at The Waterfall on National Trail, which, if the denizens of MTBR's Arizona forum are to be believed, is a place of deep and abiding lore on South Mountain. 'Tis a right of passage, so I've read many times, to ride down The Waterfall successfully.

Of course, I walked it yesterday. Blamed the rib.

And because I've ridden it many times before, and for the first time more than 20 years ago, I think that's fair.

Of the two dudes I encountered at The Waterfall, I think the guy who made the film below tends to run a little hot. This is just my opinion. But I think he runs unnecessarily hot around the mouth, in that he speaks in a rather profane manner, and likewise hot as-in he seems to use way less of his brakes in certain situations (such as those featured in the video below) than I would, given the terrain. I include his profane and somewhat sketchy video here because I walked right through his shot yesterday as I carried my bike up The Waterfall, and despite the fact that he edited out my nonetheless very stylish portage.

We'll call it an artifact of my ride nevertheless...

South Mountain 2011-12-22.

Wolf Creek

2011-12-20T08:25:00.003-07:00

I am a bit at a loss for words, but feel as if I would be remiss to fail to record the trip my brother and I took to ski at Wolf Creek in Colorado this week.

I am sore, slightly bruised, but never the worse for wear, as they say.

The trip was great! Amazing, really. Six hours door-to-door. 54 dollar lift tix. Vast and challenging terrain. And the conditions, considering the time of the year, were incredible; 100 percent open, everything covered, still soft and turny, with nothing clunky underfoot. The far-east Alberta chair, where we spent most of our two days, is basically devoid of crowds, of other people entirely, really. We made laps through glades and over steep headwalls with no waiting, run-after-run-after-run.

In all we skied 17 runs, covering some 40 miles, and got about 20,000 vert over two days. Not an epic, but a great start to the early season, for sure!

Wolf Creek - 18-19 Dec. 2011

Other people's dead dogs

2011-12-08T19:00:00.001-07:00

Well, I think I'm officially done with my homework. My first of four classes in pursuit of my state school principal certification will officially conclude next week. But, for right now, it's all done but for the grading, and the turning-in of my final project, which I'll do sometime tomorrow.

So we've enjoyed a nice quiet evening together tonight, sitting around as a family after dinner, listening to folksie seasonal music on Pandora (a nice mix based on Rosie Thomas+holiday) and looking nostalgically at a few familiar pictures of our good old dog.

There's a higher-purpose to our reverie tonight, however. You see, our favorite local bagel shop, Biffs, makers of the finest bagels in the northland, and one our regular weekend breakfast stops is, oddly enough, themed around a vast collection of individually framed pictures of hundreds of other people's dead dogs. It sounds a little morbid, but it's not. Dog-people will understand, I think. It's really kinda touching. Anyway, we dig it. So we always imagined, once Shadow was gone, we would be just-so-pleased to hang one of her pictures on the wall at Biffs, where we could see it now and then, whenever we visit.

This one.

But it's taken us a little time to find one we all like enough to place into Biff's permanent collection. We've got thousands of pictures of Shadow. Literally thousands. But we didn't look through all of them to find just the right one. We did, however, scrutinize several dozen looking pretty carefully for just the right one among the 190 favorite-photos of our good old dog in a set of her pictures we've kept for years on flickr.com.

We think the one we picked captures Shadow as perfectly as any photo could.

Dog is patient. Dog is kind. Dog never fails.

2011-12-02T12:49:00.001-07:00

A good dog is a great blessing.

Reprinted below is a post I wrote about our dog, Shadow, in December 2010.

We said goodbye to her today.

A Few Borrowed Lines About Our Old Dog Shadow

[Originally posted December 2010. Updated June 2011 - See below]

There's this great poem, by a writer named Paul Mariani, which I memorized long, long ago, back in college, when I was competing on the Arizona State Forensics Squad. At the time I used the poem, entitled Lines I Told Myself I Wouldn't Write, as a dramatic-interp piece, and I did pretty well with it.

It's about a guy who loves and then loses a good old dog.

"I promised myself I wouldn't go soft over one fleabag arthritic half gone in the head..."

I can only remember bits and pieces of it by heart now.

But lately, when I watch as my own old dog "limps down to the Sawmill" I think of that poem; it returns to me like scent memory, unexpectedly. And it returns with increasing regularity. Even though Mariani's poem isn't about watching an old dog age a little more everyday, I nevertheless find myself grateful for his words, which so well-express what it means to love a dog you never really expected to love.

With that in mind, I wanted to write a few words about our dog, Shadow, in what I hope may be ever-so-slightly the style of Paul Mariani's poem. As an homage. Both to him and his poem, and likewise, to our dog.

She came to us already named
like a Barbie
as a Shadow. An obvious, but fitting brand

for a blue-black dog with a cautious, shrinking demeanor
afraid of the wind
and unseen food-thieving curs

Two weeks
a fort-night
she was supposed to be with us.

Just while we're gone,
they said. Dogsit for us.
So we did. While they jetted off to London

Tally-ho.
In that time, like all good fortune
she found us

while we were not seeking her
by gently imploring us for wooden walks
paws crossed in front of her looking into us

for that spark
which she seemed to know she could kindle
curled on the foot of our bed without invitation

and to our surprise
knowing she was welcome there.
They returned but she stayed.

And years later we understood better
that to love a dog (despite the way she can stink-up a room)
or perhaps just this dog, was a harbinger,

a bell-weathered insight
of what we might likewise hold for a kid
and so we had one

taught well as we had been
by this Shadow
about how to cherish and find joy and to care

for something other
and bigger
than me and or us

I know I said
I wouldn't go weepy when it came, and I haven't.
At least not that much

Not yet. But it's hard to watch her get old
and be troubled by the jump
into and out of the back of the car

To be growing bony and lumpy
grey around the muzzle
as she slowly rises to her fourteenth year

Her restless creaking snore awakens us both now
and at times we wonder aloud in the night What if...
But her breathing always resumes

steady before she bestirs herself to pace the floor
dig a new nest
and slip off into her dogish dreams again.

Her paws twitch
her lips curl
she is chasing squirrels

UPDATE - June 2011

I shared this blog entry with the guy who wrote the poem that inspired it, Paul Mariani. In an email to him at Boston College I wrote:

Hello Dr. Mariani,

We've never met. But long ago I read and loved a poem you wrote, Lines I Told Myself I Wouldn't Write. Some time ago I was compelled to use it as inspiration for a blog entry and, likewise, to write a kind of homage to it. I am not a poet. Nor much of a writer, in fact. I am an elementary school teacher, truth be told. But the poem has long been special to me. I have shared it, or parts of it, with many people over many years. And I am reminded of it regularly of late. My dog is not lost, but she is getting old. For all of those reasons, I wanted to share what I've written with you. I know that's probably a silly thing. But I wanted to say, "Thanks for your words. You are an excellent writer."

Here is the link to my blog: http://rockychrysler.blogspot.com/2010/12/few-borrowed-lines-about-our-old-dog.html

He was kind enough to respond the same day with the following:

Thanks, John, for forwarding your lovely poem about Shadow. I don't think one ever forgets a dog you've had this long. And though my son Mark has lost yet another dog, Bergen, a golden retriever--we still remember Sparky. In fact, about 15 years after I wrote Lines I wrote another poem for him, which I enclose here. The English in particular seem to love this one, for BBC has aired it several times, though I've never heard it. Take care, and may those Arizona fires finally quiet down. Best, Paul Mariani

Here's a link to the poem he forwarded to me. It's very good. Made my wife cry.

One more thing...

2011-12-01T06:07:00.001-07:00

It's all coming together quite nicely! Our incoming batch of exciting weather is at the door, spinning somewhere over Vegas at the moment, by the looks of things.

Snowy weather is imminent, and should be beginning sometime this morning, I think, and in earnest later tonight. Probably now is a good time to get outta town if you're planning to drive in the next 48 hours...

Wanted to share one last great weather site with y'all. What follows in the frame below is NOAA's Graphical Forecast page. It's got so much cool data on it I'm not really even going to try to explain it all. Best thing for you to do is play around with it. Use the top toggle-arrows, next to the day of the week to move forward in time. Use the items listed below [Weather, Temp., Amount Of Precip, Snow Amount, Snow Level, etc.] to get a good idea about what the weather's probably going to do. I use this page a lot, once it looks like weather is more-or-less for-certain. When you're feeling wonky, it's great fun.
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I like zippers [part two]

2011-11-30T16:33:00.001-07:00

Commute By Bike just posted my latest review of the completely zipperless Ortlieb Saddle-Bag. Read on, should you care to learn all there is to learn about my opinion of basic, black, waterproof, German bicycle seatbags.

Meet the GFSx

2011-11-30T06:05:00.001-07:00

This is one of my favorite forecast models, it's called the GFSx. That stands for something. The G probably means Graphical. And the F probably means Forecast. But I can't recall what the S and the x stand for. Doesn't really matter. And I'm not inclined to go Google it right now. What does matter is that I think this forecast model is one of the simplest to view and understand. So I go to it a lot... like everyday, and often several times a day (they run a mid-day update most days), this time of the year.

What we're looking at here is an animation of the 9-panel 10-day Sea Level Pressure and Precip Forecast. The GFSx does lots of different forecasts. According to Unisys, this one, "The sea level pressure and precipitation forecast chart includes three parameters: sea level pressure (cyan lines), 1000-500 mb thickness (brown dotted lines, 5100, 5400, 5700 solid lines) and quantitative precipitation (color contours)."

The blue lines are wind. The closer together they get the more wind is headed our way. Now watch the purple blobs, that's our snow! Watch it turn to blue over central AZ on Saturday, that's even more intense weather. WARNING: Each run of the GFSx has pushed this Saturday feature a little more to the east toward NM, but for now it's still within range of us, too.

But the bottom line is this: As of this morning, things are still looking good for some exciting weather later this week!

Wonking

2011-11-29T06:12:00.001-07:00

NOTE: The images below update daily and therefore may not currently reflect the textual commentary... but they did when I wrote it on 29 Nov. 2011.

Weather on the way! Probably.

What's likely headed our way is called a closed, or cut-off low which means it has been dropped out of the main current of the jetstream... these can be very hard to forecast. In the image below, you can see the circular-shape and speckled cold clouds of our little, lost weather system wandering around in the middle of the ocean south of AK.

But other than the unpredictability of closed systems, everything else is in place for a fine batch of wintry weather later this week.

The five-day precipitable water forecast looks good for Tuesday through Sunday.

1.7 inches of water, with snowlevels below 5000 feet, could produce up to a foot and perhaps as much as foot and a half of snow, assuming the storm positions itself in just the right place over our region and the right conditions are in place... The more southern route of our currently split jetstream looks like it's in an ideal place to carry the next batch of storms right over us.

The water vapor loop also looks interesting, too... every good storm needs a good moisture tap... and, in this live image, you can see our closed low parked out in the Pacific with a lots of nice puffy white water-filled clouds to tap into all around it... a hopeful scenario.

So, what's gonna happen? I think it's probably going to snow. When? Beginning late Thursday or early Friday. How much? That depends on timing, atmospheric conditions, and the position the low takes as it crosses the southwest. But right now, several days out, things look like they're coming together nicely.

I'm hoping for a deep, cold dumper. But I've been wrong before. Sometimes it's wise to consult with the experts.

ACCUMULATING SNOW IS BECOMING LIKELY OVER THE HIGHER TERRAIN... WITH SEVERAL INCHES POSSIBLE.

Riding with Rockman

2011-11-25T21:19:00.004-07:00

Any time you get to ride in Sedona with Rockman it's a special occasion. Few know their way around the area was well as he does. Today we rode a bunch of trails I'd never ridden before: Last Frontier, Special Ed, Witch Doctor, Cakewalk, Under The Radar... this list goes on. Here's a little (crappy) video of today's adventure, set (as always) to good music (Silversun Pickups):

A few stats about today's ride.

Total distance: about 13 miles.
Total elevation gained: about 3000 feet.
Total elevation lost: about 3000 feet
Riding time: about 2 hours.
Time on trail: about 3 hours.
Average speed: about 4 miles an hour.
Real average speed: about 6 miles an hour
Broken parts: zero.
Broken riders: zero
Flats: zero

That's a very good day in Sedona.

GPX file and other ride-data available on Everytrail.

I like zippers

2011-11-23T10:27:00.000-07:00

I like zippers. Zippers do important work. But I prefer zippers with zipper pulls. Zippers that lack zipper pulls are often more difficult to use than need-be. And they tend to rattle.

Of a like mind? Nice. Then perhaps you will enjoy my recent review of the Green Guru Spinner backpack at Commute By Bike dot com.

Orange hat and pink hood

2011-11-13T15:51:00.000-07:00

Today we went walking in the snow.

Bekah wore her orange hat and pink hood.

Snow was thrown.

Most of it at me.

I used to wear this same orange cap
when I was about her age.

I think it's cool that she wears it now.

Lisa often wears her Muppet gloves.

But she throws a killer snowball with them.

A lot of people think this is a dumb thing to do

2011-11-11T19:04:00.002-07:00

I got a new lens this week... Took a few first-pictures with it this morning... No flash, manual focus, just messing around, really. But thought I'd write a blog about a few of them anyway.

This is the Onza H.O. clipless pedal.
I use these pedals almost exclusively, on several bikes, even my new one.
A lot of people think this is a dumb thing to do.

I don't use them because I think they're the best.
I know that there are many other fine, newer pedals available.
I use them because I own about 20 sets of Onza pedals.
And because I've used them pretty reliably since 1995.

This is the Suntour XC-II platform pedal.
I use these pedals on several bikes, too.
The Suntour XC-II a great big, flat pedal with easy-to-service bearings.
For riding in real shoes there's probably never been a better pedal.

This is Pikachu. He sits on our mantle-piece.
When I visited Japan in 2001 a girl gave him to me.
If you push the button on his back
he says, "Pee-kee-kah-choo."

Boot Deep

2011-11-03T15:07:00.004-07:00

Know what I did today? I stayed home from work. Sick. Haven't done that in a while.

What did I do while I stayed home from work today?

Worked. Some (mostly answered emails and made phone calls).
Did a bit of homework (gotta take classes if I want to keep this job).
Lay around waiting for my temp to come down (it did).
And, right around lunchtime, I watched this awesome film (see below).

I watch my fair-share of ski-videos and -movies, to be sure. And some of them are pretty good. Too often, however, in the films and videos I watch, I feel like the essence of skiing (basically: trees and pow and friends) gets lost in too many heli-drops, or too much slo-mo footage of big backcountry jumps and jibby park-stuff that just doesn't usually hold much appeal for me. Mostly 'cause I can't or never will do that stuff...

There's some jibby stuff in this film. And there's at least one massive backcountry kicker, too. But, they hike to it all. So I gotta say, hand-to-heart, this film (shot near Alta by Janky Films) is one of the funnest, most essential and legit ski films I've seen in a while. Why? Trees, pow, and friends. Exactly that. In my opinion, these guys nail the experience, the essence of skiing in this beautifully shot 30-minute short. I enjoyed the heck out of it. Hope you do, too. Make sure you full-screen-HD it, for sure!

BOOT DEEP! from JANKYfilms on Vimeo.

One Waterbottle and Imminent Danger

2011-10-29T18:53:00.003-07:00

I live quite near the trails where I ride. Near enough to feel a little bit guilty now and then about my seriously awesome proximity to some of the the finest trails in the southwest.

But, we don't really live in the woods; we live in a modest neighborhood, surrounded by houses. I can see The Peaks from my backyard, but from my house, I can only actually see one trail; I can see it when I'm standing in my driveway. It's called The Lost Burrito.

The Lost Burrito is one of the oldest mountain biking trails in Flagstaff. It was here long before I got here in 1991, making it's official debut as an aptly-named-trail in the very first-edition of my friend Cosmic Ray's Fat Tire Tale and Trails guidebook, which is now in its umpteenth revision. In fact, before it was a mountain biking trail, The Lost Burrito was a sheep driveway which lead from the Schultz Creek drainage up to the bucolic meadows in the twin ~~calderas~~ collapsed lava domes atop the Dry Lake Hills. You can follow the blazes, which are still set deep into the bark of the older trees, nearly from the top to the bottom.

Thing is, almost nobody rides The Lost Burrito anymore.

Back in the day, when I first started riding it, it was a hairball of a trail... 1200 vertical feet of crazy, rocky, steep trail, with a few genuinely scary no-fall zones near the top. It was very difficult to ride up, and always required a few portages. But it was pretty much rideable down, if you had the courage to stay on your bike while locked into a terminal skid on a steeply sloping trail.

I hadn't been on the Burrito in several years... perhaps as many as five, until today. Since moving into our new house in June, I've been staring at it daily... and it's been calling to me... quietly but persistently coaxing me to come ride it.

So today I did.

No longer merely a hairball, the upper quarter of The Lost Burrito, quite frankly, humiliated me. What had once been a rideable test-of-courage was now nothing more than a near-vertical screefield, a rockslide, a viscous, unpredictable talus-slope-of-terror. I walked several parts of it.

Fortunately, the view from the top is still spectacular. And descending the much-less-steep, still-swoopy-fun bottom three-quarters of The Lost Burrito trail is great enough to almost make you forget about the fear you tasted on the upper portions. And seriously, how often does one ever get to descend 1200 feet in under a mile? So I walked a bit of it. It's still an amazing claim-to-fame for a trail (or sheep driveway) of any kind, fully rideable or not.

Baaah!

If you're curious you can view my entire Lost Burrito Loop at Everytrail; it was a shortish ride for a Saturday morning... Dogfood to AZ-Onceler to Little Gnarly to The Lost Burrito... about 11 miles... but a perfect just-one-waterbottle ride. Watch as I descend at under 4 miles an hour! Better yet: Watch-and-learn as I avoid Schultz Creek Trail in its entirety on a Saturday.

Little Lindy

2011-10-16T15:47:00.012-07:00

We watched the new Flag-centric mountain biking movie Changing Gears together as a family the other night. It's a fine local film, fun to watch and lovingly made; it tends to be about the early days of mountain biking in Flagstaff. But the best part of all was seeing so many of our old friends in it, including Linden, the former retail manager at the shop, and one of the best, fastest, most winningest and friendliest riders around.

My daughter loves Linden, always has, since she was a little-little baby. Probably because Linden's always made Bekah feel special. No matter how frazzled Linden's day on the salesfloor has become, whenever we stop in to say hello, she has always taken the time to greet Bekah with a smile, give her a big hug, and a swing around in circles... something cool that only Linden does for her.

So it was extra special to Bek when my wife decided to call her "Little Lindy" as she was riding along on her bike so capably in the woods today. It's a nickname that just might stick. Gotta admit, just like Linden, our kid's really got it when it comes to handling her bike on the trails!

balanced a rockstack

2011-10-15T19:52:00.000-07:00

balanced a rockstack
marks not a place to begin
but an idea

First Snow

2011-10-08T15:19:00.000-07:00

Sir Ken

2011-10-01T14:54:00.005-07:00

I've been waiting for more than a month for the chance to see and hear Sir Ken Robinson, one of the great contemporary voices in education, speak at NAU. Got second row seats, thanks to my cohorts' early arrivals, and found myself completely enthralled during his humorous, provocative, and inspiring 90-minute talk.

Sir Ken, my wife, and I

But the best part was when he approached our table on his own after the luncheon, just to say hello. I was genuinely thrilled to make his acquaintance personally, and he likewise seemed genuinely interested in our school and how our magnet arts and science programs work to try and instill creativity and innovation into our core curriculum.

Thus far no one seems to have posted video of yesterday's talk, but when they do, I'll be sure to update this post with a link to it. In the meantime, some of Sir Ken's best talks are archived at TED.org. I'd love to recommend that you give him a listen at some point; all TED talks are limited to 18 minutes, so it won't take much time. But it just might change your perception of what really needs to be reformed when we consider reforming education. One of my favorite Sir Ken TED talks is embedded below:

Home Coffee Roasting

2011-09-24T07:50:00.003-07:00

19 pounds of green coffee beans

Several years ago, I was introduced to home coffee roasting by one of my friends. I've been happily ordering green beans from Sweet Maria's and roasting them in a small roaster in my backyard ever since.

Roasting one's own coffee certainly adds a bit of complexity to the whole coffee-drinking process. But I think it likewise adds to one's satisfaction with the experience in equal if not greater proportion.

Roasting allows me to find just the right point at which a particular bean's flavor appeals to my palate, and because of this, home-roasting allows me to become just -that-much better acquainted with my coffee. Similarly, roasting has allowed me to better understand how coffee is grown and processed, and even to identify certain cup-qualities and regions of the world that seem to tend to grow coffee cultivars that we especially enjoy.

Bagged for storage

This week we received our latest shipment of coffee beans...nineteen pounds, in 1 to 5 pound lots... which I transferred into muslin bags for storage. We order lots of varying size depending on our familiarity with the beans; five pound bags for beans from farms or regions we already know we love; 1 or 2 pound bags for new beans we're trying out.

Sweet Maria's ships faster than any place I know, so just a few days after placing our order a box arrives filled with the unique aroma of green coffee from cool places all over the world... in this case: Sumatra, Ethiopia, and Central America. This shipment will last us several months. However, in the interim we're likely to order more as we find we really like particular beans in this order enough to invest in larger quantities. This is also a good idea because Sweet Maria's inventories are often quite limited. They're fond of reminding customers that coffee is a commodity, not a drink.

Poster Girl

2011-09-17T23:40:00.002-07:00

We bought our daughter a new bicycle the other day. It's her fourth bike, a real one, for a big-girl, with 20-inch wheels, hand brakes, gears to shift, and front shocks. She's pretty stoked about it. So are we.

She's basically the poster-girl for Specialized Hotrock and Hotwalk bikes. Chiefly because her daddy sometimes works at a bike shop that sells them, but also because they're really great little bikes. Below, I've thrown together a quick chronology of her bikes, from today all the way back to the beginning...

Hotrock 20" -- Sept. 2011

Hotrock 16" -- October 2010

Hotrock 16" -- February 2011

Hotrock 12" -- April 2010

Hotrock 12" -- July 2009

Hotwalk 12" -- Marsh 2009

Hotwalk 12" -- May 2008

Never had training wheels. Makes me proud...

This really isn't a post about altruism

2011-09-04T20:16:00.008-07:00

I've taken a few philosophy classes over the years, both as an undergrad and during my graduate studies. And I've always enjoyed them. I guess I like the big questions: What is reality? How do people learn? Why are we here? Is there a God?

But, for whatever it's worth, despite my interest in the Big Questions, I've still always kinda had this idea that the vast majority of big-name philosophers spent way too much of their time over-analyzing the Sublime. And, as a result, I think they failed to make many really valid attempts at better understanding the mundane, life as it is, on the ground, day-to-day. To me, rather than asking, Why are we here? an even better question, with just as many potentially deep philosophical portents, is: What should I do today?

As laypeople, it rarely gets much deeper than that for most of us anyway.

I was thinking about this the other day as I was riding my bike in the woods. As I was riding along I was thinking: All I really want to do is ride my bike. Why can't i just ride my bike all-the-time? Which, when I'm riding my bike is pretty much how I always feel.

In reality, of course, it's not a completely true thought though, is it? There are obviously plenty of other things I love to do, too. Plus there are all the people that I love. And they figure into this equation pretty heavily as well.

And then there's altruism, huh? The whole idea: What could I do for others today? Oh. Yeah. Riiiight. Nearly overlooked that.

But this really isn't a post about altruism. It's about a much more selfish ideal. The ideal that asks-and-answers the simple proposition: What does it really take to have a Really Good Day?

(Just so you know: I'm not going to feel guilty right now, wrestling with the rightness and wrongness of this line of thinking. We'll save that for another time.)

So, What makes A Really Good Day? Well, it occurs to me that the Very Best Days often, if not always, contain three similar elements. On the Very Best Days I:

A) spend real time with the people I love.
B) do something I'm passionate about.
C) indulge in something. Usually something that's rather pointless or frivolous.

On my Very Best Days, I achieve this rare Trifecta Of Selfishness, via any number of self-serving, self-satisfying means. I could A) go on a hike in the woods with my family; B) spend the morning turning around runs at Snowbowl; and C) stop at the DQ and buy a large Mocha Moolatte.

Or I could A) go for a drive with my wife and daughter around town after dinner in the Bug with the top down; B) take a series of pictures of my kid playing with the dogs in the backyard; and C) spend an hour before bedtime wrenching on my bikes in the garage.

Or whatever. You get the idea.

They're suuuuper selfish. I get that. And these sorts of days, they do very little for others. I get that, too. But still, despite their indulgence, and the selfishness of it all, I've got to admit: I absolutely love my Trifecta days.

Harvest

2011-08-28T12:02:00.003-07:00

Follow me and we'll step on stones

to a place just across the creek

where I know there are blackberries.

Together we'll pick them

'till we've a small harvest's worth

of the dark black fruit.

Then we'll carefully ford the stream again

back to the opposite bank.

Rocks & Daggers with Rockman

2011-08-27T22:37:00.004-07:00

Rode with good-friend Joe (Rockman) and new-friend Paul today. On the way back down I shot a little video while riding behind Joe with my 808-microcam. Grass as tall as your handlebars this time of year...

Anyway, I think it came out okay... a nice montage to recall a great ride. And that really is the point of the whole riding-video-thing, I think.

Music by a band called Noah and the Whale. The song is called Rocks and Daggers.

Thought the title seemed fitting.

Atop my list of Favorite Things To Do

2011-08-22T19:38:00.005-07:00

Atop my list of Favorite Things To Do is Take Pictures Of My Kid.

Recently, I've had some good fortune in that regard.

She is, to my mind, a most compelling subject when it comes to composing interesting portraits.

SOS

2011-08-11T17:48:00.006-07:00

Some time ago, in another post, I mentioned that it was my belief that "Public Education needs a good apologist right about now... I truly believe it's a system well-worth defending." I still stand by those remarks.

But, at the time I made them, I did not know of any such Defender-Of-Public-Ed.

Today I learned: He exists!

Meet John Kuhn, Superintendent of Perrin-Whitt School District in Texas. He spoke to the gathered crowd of thousands at the Save Our Schools (SOS) March and National Call To Action in Washington, D.C., on July 30, 2011. Just days ago...

How great is his speech? I would rank it among the very best rousing orations I've ever heard. It's that good. But, as a public school teacher, it carries even greater weight than that.

This speech alone rates as our professional version of King's I Have A Dream. No kidding.

Here's the transcript of his speech:

Let me speak for all public school educators when I say, unequivocally: We will!” We say: Send us your poor. Send us your homeless. Send us your kids who don’t speak Spanish [speaks a phrase in Spanish]. Send us your special needs children: we will not send them away! But I tell you today, public school teacher: you will fail to take the shattered children of poverty and turn them into the polished products of the private schools–you will be unacceptable, public school teacher, and I say: that is your badge of honor!

I stand before you today bearing proudly the label of unacceptable, because I educate the children they will NOT educate! Day after day, I take children, broken by the poverty our leaders are afraid to confront, and I GLUE their pieces back together! And at the end of my life, you can say: those children were better for passing through my sphere of influence. I am unacceptable, and Proud Of It!

The poorest Americans need equity, but our nation offers them accountability instead. They need bread, but we give them a stone. We address the soft bigotry of low expectations so that we may ignore the hard racism of inequity! Standardized tests are a poor substitute for justice!

So I say to Arne Duncan and to President Obama: go ahead and label me. I will march head-on into the teeth of your horrific blame machine and I will educate these kids. You give me my scarlet letter, and I will wear it proudly! Because I will never cull the children who need education the most so my precious test scores will rise! I will NOT race to the top! I will stop, like the good Samaritan, and lift hurting children out of the dark.

Let me lose your race, because I am not in it for the accolades! I’m not in it for the money! I’m in this because it’s RIGHT!!! I am in it because the children of Perrin, Texas need somebody like me in their lives!

Our achievement gap is an opportunity gap. Our education problem is a poverty problem. Test scores don’t scream ‘bad teaching!’ They scream about our nation’s systematic neglect of children who live in the wrong zip codes! Listen to me, Arne Duncan! It’s poverty, stupid!! And that’s not an excuse! That’s not an excuse! It’s a diagnosis! We must as a nation stop assuaging the symptoms and start treating the disease!

Let me ask you a simple question. Where is adequate yearly progress for the politician? Will we have 100% employment by 2014? Will all the children have decent health care and roofs over their heads by the deadline? But wait! They don’t HAVE a deadline! They aren’t racing anywhere, are they?! When will our leaders ensure that every American community offers our children libraries and Little Leagues instead of drugs and delinquency?!

Lawmakers send you into congressional districts that are rife with poverty, rife with crime, drug abuse and poor health care, but lawmakers will never take on the label of legislatively unacceptable because they do no share the courage of the common school teacher. I say, I say, let us label lawmakers like they label teachers! Let us have a hard look at their data! Let us have merit pay in Congress!

Understand, politicians, if you want our children to grow lush, stop firing the gardeners and start paying the water bill! Politician! Your fingerprints are on these children: what have you done to help them pass their tests? President Obama: why don’t you come and join me in the crucible of accountability? We have talked enough about the speck in our teachers’ eyes: let’s talk about the plank in yours!

Thank you!

Out And Back

2011-08-06T16:28:00.005-07:00

It's a rare ride in Flagstaff that doesn't make a good loop. Somehow. But, if you're out riding unfinished trails, like we were today, you're left with little choice. Unfinished trails almost always dead-end. The Arizona Trail in the vicinity of Arizona Snowbowl dead-ends. That's where we rode today. From town up to the dead-end and back again. Out-and-back. Uncommon words in these parts.

This new section of the Arizona Trail is already a great trail. Once it's finished, and we're able to make loops out of it, it's going to be awesome. Good to ride with old friends today, too: Ken, Art, and Jason.

I put together a 5-minute video of our descent, from the dead-end back down to Snowbowl Road just so you can get an idea of how cool this trail already is, in its raw form. For whatever it's worth, I captured this footage with my $20.00 808 micro-camera, velcro'd to my helmet. It ain't HD, but heck, ya get what ya pay for... Featuring music by Silversun Pickups [Growing Old Is Getting Old], for all you music lovers out there.

Reverie

2011-08-05T14:11:00.009-07:00

My poor blog has grown stale while I've struggled to learn a new job this past month. Many, many hours have passed these last long weeks, between sunrise and sunset each day, with me doing nothing more than sitting all-the-while in a chair behind a desk. Several days I have sat so long typing and talking, that my elbows have ached painfully by days-end. Naturally, this new schedule and the demands of this new job have eaten into the hours I would normally have spent on my bike or, more importantly, with my family. And yet, despite all the changes and rigor that this summer has brought, I have had good times with my family. And I have had time on my bike. Perhaps not in the same quantities as I've become accustomed to, but, as happens when you're busy, you find time for the things that matter when you can. Today, it would appear, I have a little time for blogging...

As is my habit, I took a prolonged break at the top of my ride this morning. Whenever I ride alone I like to take a few minutes off the bike once the majority of the climbing is done, to sit and reflect and relax. Not exactly good for training. But who's training? I'm just glad to be out.

So I sit and think. Or I pray. Or I compose an outline for a blog post. Which is basically where my head headed today.

I took several poetry-workshops as an undergraduate, many years ago. Enough that I was able to take a minor in creative writing along with my journalism degree upon my graduation. Most of these classes were great, filled with compelling people who possessed, as I likewise did, a sincere interest in telling good stories in verse. One or two of them, as I neared the upper echelons of undergraduate poetry courses became a bit too competitive or something. Anyway, for whatever it's worth, I began to develop a real disinterest in them as too much attention began to be paid to things like "magical realism" and other poetic ideals or techniques that just seemed like so much nonsense to me. I almost never write poetically anymore.

I remember in one of my first poetry classes, perhaps during my sophomore year, there was this girl. Smart. Pretty. Quick with a smile. Three things that have always been sure to smite me. She wrote good poems, too, as I recall. I wanted to date her. Probably even asked her out. Pretty sure she said no. And that was the end of it. Except for our classtime. I got to see her, and bask in her smile, in class everyday. And though she had rejected my suit, I was nevertheless still a part of her class for the balance of the term. And that and her smile would suffice.

I remember one day, she came to class with a poem she'd written entitled Reverie, which is a neat, almost archaic word which means "to be lost in thought." And I remember that almost everyone said nice things about the poem when she had finished reading it to us aloud. Except for our instructor, who seemed to dwell, during her critique, on her observation that the smart-pretty girl had misused the word reverie, going so far as to suggest that perhaps she had meant reviellie instead, which, of course is a word that usually describes a trumpet sound.

I was embarrassed for my teacher, who was an otherwise excellent teacher and quite knowledgeable, and who is now an accomplished poet and university instructor, too. Likewise, I was embarrassed for the smart-pretty girl who had written the poem, an excellent poem and a lovely reflection on life, if recollection serves. She, by the way, is also a rather well-accomplished university professor now, if Google has its facts right.

I should have said something. I knew our instructor was in the wrong. Might have changed the way the smart-pretty girl perceived me. But I'm pretty sure I held my tongue, not wanting to call out our instructor on her error. I liked her. And she liked my poems. And I've never been one to take sides against a teacher. But in hindsight, I think I made the wrong choice.

Amanita Muscaria

That word, reverie, came to mind today as I sat out in the woods near the top of Newham, just to one side of the hill from the fork in the trail where it either heads down Upper Moto or up to Twisted Sister. "Reverie: a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts," is precisely the correct word for my practice of stopping for a time of meditation, no matter what form or direction it takes, at the top of my solo-rides. It's a practice I intend to keep.

So I'm grateful, to that smart-pretty girl, for etching the memory of reverie into my mind.

Pic of a nerd riding a bike

2011-07-09T17:55:00.009-07:00

Got 350 unique hits here at rockychrysler.blogspot.com during the past 30 days. Served 1200 page views, too. Not a bad month here at the old blog. Slowly but surely gaining an audience? Have to hope so.

I use Google Analytics to chart stats like these. So do lots of bloggers, I think. One of the neat features of Analytics is that you can drill-down into your data pretty deeply if you want to. One of the components that I like to look at in Analytics are the search-term keywords that are used by the folks who eventually find their way here.

Here's the best set of Google search-keywords that ever lead anyone to this blog: pic of a nerd riding a bike.

No kidding. Somebody Googled "pic of a nerd riding a bike" and it brought them right here!

How awesome is that?!

And, just so nobody goes away disappointed, I submit the following for the record (there were plenty to choose from):

Pic of a nerd riding a bike

New reviews

2011-07-07T22:54:00.002-07:00

Here's a quick update for you, dear readers.

None of what follows is really news. But it's something which will, at minimum, serve to bump the birds off the top of the page... Not my favorite post of all-time. And, as things go, this update will likewise be a complete departure from the myriad things that are actually currently occupying my mind... all of which would most likely bore you to death.

Instead, I give you this mundane but somewhat gratifying news: I had a couple product reviews run on the website Commute By Bike again this month. About a set of tires and a beanie. In a nutshell: I loved the beanie, but wasn't too crazy about the tires. Of course, if such things are of interest to you, you can read the reviews for yourself by clicking thru on the links above.

Otherwise, you may simply consider this blog un-birded, and your author momentarily distracted. Both good things.

They seem like they're really in love [UPDATED]

2011-06-29T16:08:00.004-07:00

A pair of nesting swallows have been at our front door since the day we moved in. Sweet but remarkably messy birds, they're quiet and adorable when they're on the nest. One sits almost all the time, while the other's out doing birdish things during the day. But they both return each night. To sit side-by-side and encourage one another with gentle nudges and soft words. One presumes.

It's no fun, having a pile of bird poop, feathers, and nest-detritus next to your front door. It's unsightly. But having two nesting birds there to meet you and your six-year-old as you walk out of the house each morning is truly priceless.

Today: eggshells on the doormat among the other jetsam. And two very fresh, new baby swallows in the nest.

Update 07 July 2011: Counting beaks we have determined there have been as many as four hatchlings in the nest. However, there have now likewise been two known fatalities at our front door. Both accidental, one presumes. In each case, falling from the nest would seem the most likely cause of death. It is a cruel world. Even baby birds cannot escape this fact.

What the office desk hath revealed

2011-06-28T15:00:00.007-07:00

Generally, we're feeling pretty settled in our new place. Still, we wake up most mornings feeling like we've rented this house for summer vacation.

Not a bad way to live.

Got some new web-writing-work recently. Really just started working on it today. Rather excited about it. Bikes. Words. Working with old friends. Good stuff.

So, I'm at my home-office desk working this afternoon, mostly just sussing out a new content management system. In need of a pen. Desk drawer is all a-jumble from being moved. Searching, searching, searching... for a pen... There's one! But after a good shaking and a trip across town, it turns out the office desk yields forth even greater treasure than mere implements used for writing.

What hath the office desk revealed?

Only the truth. Which is: even redacted, I am such a dork. And have been for many, many years.

~~Maybe~~ Probably always.

A thing difficult to explain

2011-06-24T15:52:00.001-07:00

One of the many things I like about riding with Ken is that he tends to look around while he rides. A lot of people who ride mountain bikes just ride, always looking at the trail in front of them. And I think that's okay. But it's also nice to have a look around now and then, too. Stop and smell the flowers. Stuff like that.

Some time ago, while we were out riding together, Ken pointed out a curiosity to me alongside a trail folks around here have always called The Onceler. Just for fun, I stopped to have a closer look at it on my morning ride today. It's little more than an old stump and a couple boulders at first glance. But look a little closer and it becomes difficult to explain this feature. How did those two large boulders end up on top of that big old stump?

Best I can come up with, short of, "Someone put them there, duh!" which seems unlikely, is that they long ago rolled down the hill together and got wedged into the old stump by chance. But even that explanation seems unlikely, as they would have had to both sorta jump up onto the stump together in order to get wedged in there as a pair. The mystery-feature is in a steep-sided, minor drainage. So, I suppose it's possible that at some point there was some kind of major stream flow that raged down it long, long ago. Possible but, again, not very likely, as there are really no other signs of such a catastrophe in the area. At this point in history, the drainage appears quite minor, carrying a bit of snow-melt runoff in season, but that's about it.

Not the greatest mystery in the world. But a fun one to ponder. Frankly, I'm stymied. I really can't explain it. At all.

Got a good guess? Do share.

Wherein I began to coast. Or: The Tuesday Morning Walk

2011-06-21T12:06:00.004-07:00

Done broke down

Promised myself I wasn't going to blog about today's Tuesday Morning Ride. I always seem to end up blogging about the Tuesday Morning Ride... year after year. And this year, even though I was super-stoked to finally get out on a Tuesday Morning Ride (We were moving out of our old house last week), on my new bike too-boot, I at least wanted to wait a few weeks before putting words to what's become my requisite TMR blog-post.

But then, low-and-behold, I had a mechanical this morning on the burnt-up-but-still-fun Little Bear trail. A mechanical of the unfixable variety: a broken break-away derailleur-hanger bolt... With no replacement bolt to be found among us, despite the fact that the three of us were on nearly identical Epic 29ers, the unfixable mechanical subsequently led to a broken chain when I tried to jury-rig the drivetrain as a singlespeed... Not something you can do with a full-suspension bike, I guess.

Now chainless and derailleur-less, I was compelled to abandon my friends and hike back up to the top of Mount Elden along the trail I'd just ridden down, rather than continue to ride down the trail and then have to hike up Elden Spring trail and a billion ups-and-downs on Schultz Creek trail... The better choice? Flip-of-a-coin, probably. Upon reaching the saddle-ridge after a 20 minute walk, I began to coast and walk and coast for miles and miles, first down Red Onion and then down the Elden Lookout Road, in order to get home... home to my new home, natch, which, it just so happens, is now conveniently located near the bottom of said-road.

And, well, after all that, plus a fine picture of the incident by Chris, I felt like I had something to write about.

Photographic evidence

2011-06-17T04:07:00.009-07:00

I was 29 when I moved into the townhouse at 2205 E. Arroyo Seco Dr. in the fall of 1996. And I was 44 when I moved out in the summer of 2011. Photographic evidence would seem to indicate that my grandmother (now 95) and my (then soon-to-be) wife were present on both occasions. Similar evidence indicates that my haircuts and fashion sense have improved but a little in the meantime.

On this obviously memorable occasion I am inclined, nevertheless, to forego nostalgia and flowery talk about days-gone-by. Suffice to say: it was a fine little house, generally filled with love and happiness, within which we truly became a family. And it was good to us in that it kept us warm and safe and dry, as all good houses should.

We hope the same will be true for its new inhabitants.

Chiefly for my mother [UPDATED]

2011-06-05T21:08:00.006-07:00

Our local newspaper, The Arizona Daily Sun, ran a picture of me, and a short story about my classroom, on the front page today. However, for reasons I cannot explain they chose to make it a "Print-only Exclusive" so I've got no link to share with anyone [UPDATE: Here's the link]. What a bummer! Nevertheless, my Mom wants to see it (Thanks, Mom!), so... blatantly violating copyright (I presume), I scanned the pages this evening on my cheap HP three-in-one flatbed (hate that stupid thing). On the off-chance you're interested in reading the article, too, you can click through on the images below to super-enlarge them.

Sending The Sightlings

2011-06-03T18:05:00.002-07:00

Tonight is the premiere of my friend Lyle's new art show, Sending The Sightlings, at the La Luz de Jesus Gallery in Los Angeles. I'm a big fan of Lyle's work, and I think the stuff he's created for his latest show is especially stunning and cool. And, I swear, I'd say that ever if he weren't one of my besties! Take, for example, the title piece: it's is truly epic. Watch the video to get a sense of it.

If you're in L.A. I envy your opportunity to get over to La Luz to check the show out in person. Otherwise, if you're like me, stuck working in Whoville, you'll just have to admire it online.

Running Dab

2011-05-30T16:45:00.001-07:00

Running Dab: When a bicyclist unintentionally dismounts his/her bicycle while in motion, landing on his/her feet at a running pace. Typically executed off the front-end of the bike, such as over the handlebars. Point are added or deducted based on the duration of the rider's run and his/her ability to avoid entanglement with the bicycle, as well as the rider's good fortune to remain upright while in motion.

Something like this:

Gave myself a 9.8.

Blue Turning Gray

2011-05-27T14:22:00.006-07:00

On our trailer-bike ride today my daughter sang me most of the songs on the soundtrack to the movie Tangled, as well as a few numbers from The Sound Of Music, too. We also discussed many things as we rode along through the woods together, including whether or not angels have wings, and what the Earth was like before God did anything with it.

Perhaps most importantly, after she accidentally peed on her shoes while taking a break behind a tree, we had a long talk about how important it is to have a mountain-biker's attitude when you're out in the woods having fun.

"When things go wrong, what does a mountain biker do?"
"A mountain biker deals with it."

It's an important lesson, even if you've never peed on your shoes during a ride. Another one of those great bike-makes-life lessons.

Bike Parade

2011-05-16T15:32:00.002-07:00

We rode our tandem-plus-trailer-bike over to Wildflower Bread Co. on Sunday morning for three oatmeals and a cheese danish to share. After breakfast, we rode downtown to ride in the annual Bike To Work Week Bike Parade. Such fun!

"Hey, a three-person bike!"

She got a temp-tattoo

There we go!

Ghost Dancers

2011-05-06T20:53:00.004-07:00

It's a tough time to be a public school teacher. Not as in end-of-the-school-year tough; the end of the school year is always tough, and comes as no surprise.

Received 5 May 2011

No, it's a tough time to be a public school teacher as in it's historically, a tough time to be a public school teacher. Sometimes it feels a bit like we're all just part of another big, hopeless Ghost Dance, albeit under somewhat less dire circumstances than the first Ghost Dancers faced.

There are lots of reasons for this, and I'm not going to go into them in any detail here and now. Which is probably a cop-out. To be sure, Public Education needs a good apologist right about now. And I truly believe it's for-certain a system well-worth defending. But I don't think I'm called to be my profession's Great Defender. I'm really not equipped.

But, for whatever it's worth, I look around lately, in this small pool of educators with whom I swim, and a see a lot of beat-down, discouraged, bewildered teachers who never banked on any of this. I follow @DianeRavitch on Twitter and through her posts I read about similar sentiments all over the nation. Universally, or so it would seem, public school teachers feel maligned and seem never to have imagined that they would ever feel the things, or hear the things, or be compelled to carry out or defend the things teachers seem to regularly face these days.

Fortunately, while being stripped of so much: a livable wage, our professional dignity, and the due-process assurances, benefits, and securities that previously made the job do-able, there is one thing that cannot be taken from us. Our legacy.

Received 26 April 2011

I've always loved being a teacher. Well, almost always. But the art-of-teaching, as I once knew it, is gone. Five or ten years from now, perhaps even sooner, public education as we've all come to recognize it in this country really won't exist anymore. There will still be public schools a decade from now. But they will be very different sorts of places by then. Almost unrecognizable. That's what I think.

Nevertheless, regardless of what the future holds for our profession, for those who have spent the better part of half a lifetime teaching, as I pretty much have, there will always be one thing worth hanging on to: the knowledge that there are hundreds of former students out there who were once ours, and who perhaps still bear our imprint.

It's a prideful thing to recollect, this idea that you have taught several hundred students, and that you did your very best by each of them, and that some of them might remember you fondly from time to time. But if it's prideful, so be it; these days, it's also a great thing to hang on to, too.

Because no one can ever take that away.

"I love that!"

2011-05-04T18:09:00.003-07:00

No need to drown this post in explication. The video fairly speaks for itself, I think.

What a great kid she is!

Always almost falling down

2011-04-30T14:56:00.009-07:00

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.
Samuel Beckett

I once tried to adapt Samuel Beckett's play Krapp's Last Tape as a film script. It's an interesting work, an absurd, one-act, one-man show that Beckett wrote in the 1950s. In the show, Krapp, the central-and-only character, is a desperately isolated individual who, nearing the end of his life, observes that it has been nothing more than a lengthy montage of failures, which he has collected as a kind of autobiography on a vast collection of audio tapes.

I wanted to update the concept a bit, expand the recorded vignettes we only hear in the play into something a bit more substantial, while bringing it into the then-20th century using video. I was intrigued by the idea that, as a film, we could see as well as hear Krapp and his companions at the various points in his life Beckett has him recall in the play. I know it's not what Beckett had in mind. But I had this idea that it could be really cool.

At the time I was single, living alone. Broken-hearted, even. A lot like Krapp. So I got way into it. Wrote madly for months. Thought I had something special in the works. Even had a lot of fun reading and learning about film-script format and style, which was new to me. But, as the thing I was writing became more-real day-by-day, it occurred to me that I ought to formally seek approval from Beckett's estate for my adaptation. So, after doing a little research, I contacted the agency-people who managed the rights to Beckett's works. And, I was told in no uncertain terms, "No. You may not adapt Krapp's Last Tape for film. None of Mr. Beckett's works are available for film adaptation." Nevertheless, the executor was kind enough to suggest that I was free to use Beckett's work as inspiration, and even to treat my script as a kind of homage to his play. He was, in fact, quite cordial with me. But he was unwilling to compromise: as far as adapting it and using Beckett's title and content in my work, that was out of the question.

That rejection, sadly, took the wind out of my sails. I never really went back to the script. I moved on to something else. And so, Krapp's Last Tape: The Movie resides in a box under my bed. A work unfinished.

A failure.

I was at a teacher conference in Scottsdale most of this week. Teacher conferences are not my usual fare. Over the years, I've been to several, but I would never describe myself as a conference-type. Most of the time, I'd much rather be in my classroom, working with my kids, than somewhere else with a lot of adults talking about teacher-stuff.

Nevertheless, I was actually kind of flattered to be asked to attend this conference. It was an important one, and it was expected that many important people would attend, and likewise that many important people would speak.

On the last day of the conference, one of the speakers, a British researcher named Dylan Wiliam, in his keynote speech on teacher learning communities, used the aforementioned Beckett quote on one of the slides in his presentation.

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.

His point was: teacher improvement usually occurs along with failure. And it is only through the recognition of that failure, and the ability to make corrections in response to that failure, that improvement begins. An interesting idea: with training, time to practice, proper support, and the opportunity to reflect and move forward again, teaching can become more efficient. Organically: fail; reflect; improve. And teachers will become better at teaching. That's what the man said.

But the quote, because it directly addressed the idea of failure, also got me to thinking about other things...

First: it reminded me about my failures as an adapter of the works of Samuel Beckett.

And, in the same moment, it got me thinking about another bit of research I'd read recently. Not ed-research, but rather an interesting investigation that a few scientists from Cornell and elsewhere recently undertook to determine what makes a bicycle balance when you're riding it. It may seem a ridiculous thing to study. But it turns out, it's actually been a bit of a mystery for a very long time. Truth is, until this research, no one really knew what it was that was making a moving bike stable. Hard to believe, isn't it. There were lot's of assumptions: spinning wheels chief among them. But there was very little data to support any of them. Until now. Here's a bit from their abstract:

[Bicycle] self-stability cannot be explained in any simple words. Bicycles are not stable because of gyros, because you can make a self stable bicycle without gyros. We did that. And they are not stable because of trail, you can take that away too. And we did that...

Why can a bicycle balance itself? One necessary condition for bicycle self stability is... a bicycle turns into a fall.

This seven-minute video also explains their research. I think it is fascinating and well worth watching.

In a nutshell: by removing the effects of the spinning wheels (gyros), and the angle and contact point of front wheel and fork assembly (trail), they were able to conclude one thing about bikes: a bike in motion balances because it is constantly falling over, and when it does the front of the bike is constantly being steered into the fall by the rear of the bike, thereby overcoming the potentially tragic effects of the fall. Basically, bikes are always almost falling down. But most of the time they don't. Why? Because the bike (and/or the rider) leans and steers to re-balance the bike, fixing and refixing the failure-to-balance, again and again and again.

As I write this, another in a series of broken ribs (four in the last 20 years) is nagging me, a reminder that I have not yet thoroughly perfected my riding technique; it would seem I am still able to override, through gross-motor error, my bike's natural tendency to want to right itself and not fall over. Riding a bike is indeed a series of failures to which we adjust in order to avoid catastrophe. I am living proof. Sometimes successfully even...

Teaching is likewise a series of failures to which we adjust in order to improve. We know this.

Writing would seem the same. Or so I might hope.

Ongoing failure may be inevitable. But, cyclists, educators, and writers alike succeed when we turn towards the fall, not when we move away from it. It stands to reason that it is Experience, in any pursuit, which makes us capable of making adjustments-to-avoid-failure by turning toward it in an ever-more intuitive manner.

Nevertheless, I think, there's got to be room to stand-back and contemplate, to visualize the process, and to make deliberate plans. We can make this happen ourselves. Or our leaders can recognize our need to do this and protect the time in which we need to do it.

But time is the key, I think. No matter what sort of growth we're after, I think Time might hold the secret.

Time to do. Time to reflect. Time to improve.

Rinse and repeat.

For your viewing pleasure

2011-04-23T21:44:00.014-07:00

The first-annual Sedona Fat Tire Festival took place Saturday and Ken and I headed down early, hoping to have a look around and get in a bit of a shred, too. Before we got to the venue, we dropped some stuff off at the shop in VOC and met up with our old-friend John, who lives in Phoenix now. John brought along his work-pal Ernie, too.

After picking up a couple demo bikes for John and Ernie at the Specialized booth we shuttled our three Epic 29ers (John got to ride the $10,000 carbon-fiber S-Works!) and one Stumpy FSR out to Dry Creek Road to hunt down a few trails, including a couple (Aerie and Rupp) that were brand-new to all of us.

Temps were cool all day under overcast skies, with a stiff breeze out of the southwest, and the trails were bone dry and often sandy, typical of the area this time of the year. We rode a fun loop, a smidge over 11 miles (a middling-distance in Sedona-miles), full of fast singletrack, spring flowers, and wide vistas, from Lost Watch to Deadman's Pass, to Aerie, to Cockscomb, to Rupp, to Two Fences, and back to the van.

Nerd that I am, I brought along both my Garmin GPS and my handlebar-mounted 808 camera. So, I've got both a map and a 3-minute video of our 3-hour ride to offer for your viewing pleasure.

Music: Red Dust by Calexico and Iron & Wine

View the flash version of the map here.

You come too

2011-04-03T22:02:00.009-07:00

I'm going out to clear the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I shan’t be gone long. You come too.
-- Robert Frost

There are three ways to get home.

The Standard Way. The Fast Way. And The Long Cut.

In general, depending on the demands of my schedule, the weather, and sometimes the sort of bike I'm riding, I tend to pick from one of these options when heading home from work by bike.

The Standard Way

There's nothing wrong with The Standard Way. It's just not especially interesting. Like a cup of that what's-it-called Starbucks house-blend coffee, The Standard Way home is not especially memorable, but neither does it offend. It is simply a well-balanced blend of bike paths, bridges, neighborhood side streets, urban trails, and short interstitial social tracks which cleverly connect here and there. The Standard Way is, in effect, just an afternoon rewind of my morning ride to work... a one-off sort of route that wouldn't make sense for anyone else unless you lived and worked precisely where I do, because it's really a point-A to point-B kind of thing. Nevertheless, The Standard Way does take into consideration a few key factors, the most important of which is my desire to avoid car-traffic wherever and whenever possible. This route does that well, making zero-use of main roads, major arterials, or congested signaled intersections. The Standard Way might not be super-interesting, but it is definitely super-safe.

The Fast Way home is hardly worth discussing. I take it when it's going to be dark soon and I've forgotten my lights. Or when it's all snowy or rainy. Or when it's midwinter and the trails are buried or caked in mud. Or when I'm test-riding something unusual for a review, like a trailer or a set of skinny tires. The Fast Way home is all roads, big cars, loud engines, exhaust fumes, and stress: red lights, stop signs, buses, crosswalks. I hate it. But it occasionally serves its purpose. It's at least 50-percent faster than The Standard Way. Fortunately, I am rarely in a hurry.

The Long Cut

Whenever my life's not in a hurry (and the woods aren't filled with snow), several days each week, I'm able to enjoy one of the great pleasures of my simple life, which is also one of the best fringe benefits of life here in Flagstaff: The Long Cut. From a practical standpoint, The Long Cut makes no sense. It's neither fast nor direct. But what it does do well is wander. And it is its glorious imprecision that I most love about The Long Cut.

The Long Cut buries the notion that a commute must be a means to an end and not an end in and of itself. It defies the logic with which streets ever comply. It is non-linear, disordered, and unnecessarily difficult. It is the perfect way to end any workday. It's pretty much the way I've chosen to head home, whenever I've been able to, for the better part of the past two decades. Because it is the best way home.

Scenes from The Long Cut

My Long Cut changed this year. For the last 17 years or so, I rode home most days across the front side of Mount Elden along the Forces Of Nature trail system. This year, The Long Cut takes me home via Rocky Ridge and the network of system and social trails that run along the base of Mount Elden. Neither route is a huge ride, both are well under ten miles. I've never taken great pains to prep for these rides; I've always just ridden home in my work clothes and riding shoes, on any one of the half-dozen different bikes that I ride regularly to work... cross bikes and mountain bikes, multi-speed, singlespeed, and fixed-gear bikes. I carry a backpack that holds tools, tubes, and often my laptop, and sometimes I carry a partially filled Camelback holding about 20 ounces of water... though I occasionally forget to carry any water. I try not to crash. But sometimes I do.

Regardless, there are few things that I have found that are more centering, more cathartic, more empowering, more head-cleansing than an indirect ride home through the woods on your bike after work. For me, it's almost always just what I need.

Cold Wet Work

2011-03-20T20:46:00.002-07:00

On our walk today we came upon a place where the creek poured over a deposit of stones.

A small, shallow pool formed naturally behind it.

Seeing a need, we gathered a collection of rocks.

And we made a dam with them.

It was cold, wet work beneath overcast skies.

And it required both skill and balance.

But in time, our objective was accomplished.

A fine, newly enlarged pool.

Happy Birthday Dumb Puppy

2011-03-09T17:36:00.005-07:00

I've paid a lot of attention to our old dog, Shadow, on the pages of this blog recently. She's getting lumpy and gimpy, and has become a bit of a crank. But she was our first dog. And we love her. So it's been fun to write about her a few times, and even get her picture published in the dog-issue of one of my favorite magazines a while back.

However, we have not one dog, but two. Both labs. Of a kind anyway. The old one a hairy, dark black, stockier blend of this and that sort of retriever. And the new one, the puppy, Rubia, a yellow lab of the pedigreed variety, short-haired and sleek, full of muscle and vitality, as well an abiding and endearing love for her people. Which is us.

We did not intend to get another dog with which to fill our already too-small home. But as with the first one, who, as a quiet and gentle 18-month-old dog arrived in our home unexpectedly, thanks mostly to someone else's divorce, the second one, too, came to us before any kind of management plan was put in place. An alignment of stars, perhaps, drew her to us... or maybe just another new dog owner's daughter and her profound and previously undiagnosed dog-allergy. Regardless, in short order, while we were enjoying the carefree last-days of yet another school year set to end soon, we were given the chance to adopt the cutest-dang-lab-puppy-you-ever-saw, totally free-of-charge, complete with kennel and sundry other accessories, and we did.

And as must happen to all new, inexperienced puppy owners: the halcyon days of our life as we once knew it came abruptly to an end.

Puppy's are hard. Like babies, but because they lack diapers and binkies, messier and far chewier. Much more than older dogs do, they require oversight. Ample exercise. Strict discipline. And food. Mounds of food. From which they make surprisingly massive mounds of poo. In multiple stacks.

Moreover, puppies are stupid. They come with almost no programming. They are blank chewing, eating, pooing, sleeping things when you get them. And, as they slowly grow older, much of the time it seems like they're just becoming bigger chewing, eating, pooing, sleeping things. Ours anyway.

But somewhere in their first year of life they begin to become dogs. Gentler. Slightly more predictable. Somewhat cognizant of your ways and means. More the loving, affectionate pet you were expecting, rather than the destructive, senseless thing you once thought you might actually grow to hate.

Rubia has her first birthday tomorrow. Something a bit less a puppy and more a dog now, I can safely say: we're happy to have her. And she's learning, though less from us than she is from Shadow. But that's really as we intended. Or at least as we had hoped. It was, from the git-go, our deep desire that a few of the best things about Shadow would somehow rub off on Rubi while there was still a chance of such things occurring. And they have. Shadow's showed Rubi how to sleep quietly on the bed at night. And how to wait patiently until 6PM to eat dinner. She's showed her how to run in the woods unleashed without losing track of us. How to settle in and nap between romps and before bedtime. And how to bark, just once but loudly, when strangers come to the door. But most of all, we're thrilled that Rubi has learned, through Shadow's example, how to fit so nicely into our lives... how to be our dog.

And so, I will say this, from the bottom of my heart: Happy birthday, dumb puppy. We love you.

Jacket Of Love

2011-02-28T19:15:00.016-07:00

So just stop

worrying about it

'cause all that

don't mean a thing.

It's the same old situation.

It's same old you and me.

Jacket of Love

Looking for Henrietta

Lyle and Sparkleface Band

Sometimes, when you're out in the woods skiing or riding your bike and you find yourself knocked on your keister totally unexpectedly, you reflect for a moment, after your situational-inventory's been taken, on how close you really do come from time to time to actual disaster. And, if you're like me, in those moments, you're grateful. Really stinkin' grateful, that this time you're okay. Because you've been injured before. And you know how much it sucks.

I clipped the tip of a blown-down spruce with my arm while skiing on Sunday. It was hidden at the bottom a thick little clump of trees on a steep in-bounds hillside, poking out of them at an odd angle nearly perpendicular to the fall line. Didn't see it as I was coming out of the the bottom of one turn looking down the slope for the next. No warning. Just never saw it. It's always those wrecks that hurt the most.

Life's like that, too. Doncha think? It's so rarely the challenges we've planned for that get us. It's almost never the crisis we've foreseen that causes us to panic.

Fortunately, this time I was okay. A little worse for wear: bruised. But not broken. Basically okay. Skied out and went back up for one more before going home, in fact.

My fancy, new, not-even-a-season-old Marker Gore-Tex jacket, on the other hand, did not survive the encounter. It's dead. As in: it's in the garbage can out by the street at this very moment waiting for destiny to arrive: tomorrow's early morning pick-up and a one-way ticket to the dump.

And ya know, I'm not really all that upset about it. Primarily 'cause I survived the incident with little more than a deep, painful bruise on my arm... it could have been a lot worse.

But also because, although I've been skiing in it almost exclusively this season, I never really felt "moved in" to my fancy, new Marker Gore-Tex jacket. First of all, because it always felt a bit too fancy. I'm a huge fan of Gore-Tex as a material. It does what it says it will do. And I use it. A lot. Swear by it's ability to keep a body warm and dry. But this jacket, despite the Gore-Tex, was nevertheless so feature-rich, so filled with do-dads and hidden pockets, goggle-wipers, and zippers that I felt, I dunno, a little bit Poser in it I guess. I wanted it for the Gore-Tex (and the color), not because it would accommodate my cellphone, my iPod, and my flask (I don't actually carry a flask) in specifically, individually designed and engineered pocketry. Plus, it was bulky. Not snowboarder, slopestyle bulky. But way bigger and heavier-on than the stuff I've grown accustomed to skiing in. So there's that, too. All of which conspires to make it so my heart isn't breaking today, even though my fancy, new Marker Gore-Tex jacket's done gone and died.

And, I've still got Old Yeller, too, my trusty, well-worn, tried-and-true, three-pocket, no-frills, not-Gore-Tex, mended-and-mended-again, multi-purpose, dingy, yellow Marmot jacket which I've been wearing for, I don't know, at least 10 years... maybe more. Yeller'd been retired to bike-commuting duty-only of late, what with my fancy new jacket and all. But I'm calling her up for one more shot at the big leagues, one more season on the mountain. She's a great jacket anyway. Not fancy. But never fails. Keeps me warm (as long as I'm layered right). Mostly dry (can get a bit sweaty at times). And even has one simple chest pocket that will accommodate my iPod, if I require it (I usually do). It'll be nice to take her back up the mountain next time I go. Like old times... the same old situation, the same old you and me.

[There will probably be NO] Snowday This Friday!

2011-02-13T15:29:00.014-07:00

It's been some time since my daughter and I were able to get out for a ride together. And it was all too easy to forget it was February today, too... 67 degrees and sunny skies will do that. Made recalling the negative-20s of a week or two ago seem like something I'd read in a book.

After two long laps around Buffalo Park (all smiles!), we took the Bug (with the top-down, of course) over to DQ on Milton to celebrate with strawberry sundaes and mocha-moo-lattes. We played a round of our favorite sitting-at-DQ game: count the Subarus, then cruised leisurely through campus, downtown, and back up Cedar Hill past the Buffalo. Now we're home again, hanging-out family-style, with the back door wide open letting all the fresh air in...

What a lovely lazy Sunday.

Nevertheless, all the weather forecast models are in agreement (so's my guru, Stu), predicting a return to winter later this week. And frankly, that's good news to me. Early spring weather's great-and-all... a nice respite from winter, indeed. But I'd still like to get a few more days on the mountain... get that pass paid for, ya know.

So, with that in mind, throwing all caution and superstition to the wind, I'm gonna just come right out and say it: The stars are aligning...

~~It's gonna be a Snowday this Friday!~~

Don't take it to the bank just yet... we're still a few days away from certainty.

But in the event I'm right, don't forget I said it.

Mountain Gazette #176

2011-02-06T15:22:00.004-07:00

As I mentioned a few weeks back, Mountain Gazette actually did accept one of the photos I submitted to the magazine's annual Mountain Dog Photo Contest. It's in the latest issue, #176, on page 25. Mountain Gazette is not a huge publication, but I think it's great fun to read. And, as a writer, they've been a real pleasure to work for in the past. It's distributed all over the western U.S., and usually you can find it locally at places like Biff's Bagels, Late For The Train, and Aspen Sports. It's free.

For the record, I've never had a photo published anywhere before. And, I'm super stoked because this one is one of my all-time favorites. For whatever it's worth, it wasn't a shot that I planned or posed or anything. Just a lucky shot of our kid and the old-dog, Shadow, hanging out out together beneath the cottonwood tree.

Life Cycles

2011-02-05T19:10:00.016-07:00

Got out for a ride today. Which normally wouldn't be all that remarkable. Except that it's February. And I rode on some of my local trails here in Flagstaff, the ones at the base of Mount Elden. And they were dry. Dusty even, in spots.

Didn't ride long. Just a short jaunt into the woods to recon the local sitch. For whatever it's worth to ya: on the southern aspects just north of town, down low, there's a little mud here and there. Some packed down snow and ice, too. But in between, it's mostly summer-dry buff colored earth. No kidding.

Strange enough to cause some concern. For sure.

Anyway, I got home from my short ride and unpacked my bag, only to discover that I'd taken the DVD copy of Life Cycles, which I borrowed from the shop last weekend, with me on my ride. I've been meaning to take it back. But all week, I forgot to ride by the shop on my way home. So the DVD's been just hanging around in my pack, useless to anyone, for a while now. Sorry about that.

I bring this up for two reasons. One: it is not my habit to ride with DVDs. They're pretty much worthless on bike rides. And two: because, if one were to ride with a DVD, there's probably no better DVD in the world to ride a bike with than Life Cycles.

There are an abundance of mountain bike movies on the market. Just like ski movies, they appeal to many of us, especially towards the end of the off-season, as we're getting geared-up and excited about our upcoming opportunities to partake. And, in general, most of these movies, regardless of their subject matter, are pretty much the same. Fun to watch. But formulaic. Predictable. Shot for shot, bit by bit, they all cover the same ground in more-or-less the same way, time-after-time, year after year.

All except for Life Cycles. Without getting too effusive in my praise, I'll just say this about the movie and then let the trailer below speak for itself: Life Cycles is, without a doubt, hands-down, the most original, captivating, cinematically sophisticated, downright-awesome bike-movie I've ever seen. It's gorgeous. And fun.

I wanted it to be longer.

There's almost no reason to own DVDs anymore. These days, between Netflix, Vudu, MegaVideo, and Surf The Channel, they're all waiting for you online. Somewhere. But Life Cycles is different. In my estimation, for so many reasons, it's a DVD that's well worth owning. I'm ordering a copy. Blu-ray, even.

Just as soon as I get down to the shop to take back the one I've borrowed. Meantime, I just might watch it again. Tonight.

What to do with a(n almost) snowless January

2011-02-01T17:48:00.004-07:00

NOTE:
What do you get your blog on your second anniversary ?

For whatever it's worth, I officially started blogging here in January 2009. But for the first month or so of its existence, this-here blog kinda languished... mostly due to a lack of proper visioning. At the beginning, I had no idea what I wanted to get out of this experience. All blogs need to find their space and their voice, I guess. Of course, some never do. I think that's why many blogs get started but quickly fail and are forgotten. No vision. But for some blogs, those lucky little sea-turtle-blogs that make it across the beach and into the sea, eventually there's a moment where a blog seems to come into its own. For me and my blog, it wasn't until the post I made on February 1, 2009, that we really got off the ground, I think. It was just a video I'd made. But it was the first post that seemed, to me anyway, to have real meaning. Relevance. That was two years ago today.

January 2011 was kinda bleak. For skiing, anyway.

Our ski season started off well enough, back in December. But shortly after our first major storm cycle came and went, things sorta turned all spring-like. And those spring-like conditions have persisted for the past four weeks or so. Setting us up for a fourth-place finish for all-time almost snowless Januarys.

For those of us who find travel a challenge... because work, and family, and funding all seem to conspire to make it impossible... that means a whole lot of Snowbowl-piste. Which, in-and-of itself isn't bad. Just limiting. Repetitive. Crowded. Watching the trees get bonier week after week. Watching the southern exposures pretty much get cooked down to icy slab and rock.

Nevertheless, all month there's been really good coverage on the runs. Not the most exciting skiing ever, fo sho. But way better than not skiing at all. And, BONUS: turns out snowless Januarys make for super-great conditions for learners! Nothing but groomed cord as far as the eye can see.

I took two classes of fifth-graders, fifty kids in all, up the hill this past Tuesday, a week ago now, for what was for most of them their first time on skis. It was a picture-perfect day. And Snowbowl had the situation dialed. We all had a blast. By the end of the day, we had (one broken arm and) more than a few fearless first-time skiers.

Ice skating was probably better back in December, but I didn't get out until mid-January for my first (and thus far only) skate of the season out at Lake Mary. By then the meager January snowfall had pretty much ruined what's usually pretty spectacularly smooth ice. The morning we were out, however, having gone through a few weeks of daily melt and nightly re-freeze, it was more akin to skating on the surface of a giant golfball. Not the best ice ever, not by a long shot. But still, a lot of fun. Nice patches here and there... And, heck, way better than not skating...

Ken on Lost Watch

And as it happens, I seem to have, purely by accident, picked a quite-good year to get on a new bike. Can't say enough about how rad the new bike is, nor about how much fun it's been getting to know Sedona's trails again, in a whole new way, from a whole new perspective. I've been down to Sedona several times in the month or so since I got my bike assembled. And each ride has been spectacular, as in awesome and inspiring. Though the last one, the one where I had to walk out a mile to the road pushing my new bike in front of me while carrying a taco'd front wheel on my backpack (wrong spoke wrench; seriously whopped wheel) left a little to be desired.

Dog is...

2011-01-19T22:15:00.006-07:00

Buddha Beach Oak Creek

The other day, over the long MLK weekend, we took our kid and the dogs down to Oak Creek at Buddha Beach for a hike and a swim. Everyone had a blast. Templeton trail to Buddha Beach is a short but lovely hike, red rocks to riverside. Midwinter-perfect.

But that evening, a few hours after our return home, we woke our older dog, Shadow, for her dinner. And she couldn't rise to walk. Eventually, after some stretching, massaging, and coaxing, 5- or 10-minutes later she was able to get her feet beneath her and wobble outside to her bowl. The next day, she was just fine... perhaps a little slower than usual, but mostly just fine. But the whole episode, it kinda shocked us. We'd processed it mentally. Discussed it openly. But never really witnessed it: Shadow's getting old.

I've been thinking about this for a while now: our aging dog. And, as another homage, I submitted two photos of her to Mountain Gazette magazine a while back, for their upcoming annual Dog Photo Contest issue. And, I'm pleased to say, one of them made it through the first-round of cuts. That's not to imply that I'm actually going to have a picture I took published in a magazine. It's only to say that a picture I took actually got through the first round. Which is cool! But it is by no means the prize. I guess, one of these days, they'll let me know if my other picture made the final-cut. But until then, have a gander at this: the picture (at right) that didn't make it through the first round. No surprise, I guess. It's not really a superior photo or anything. But it's really-and-truly a photo I like, one that I think captures Shadow in her essence: outside, soaking wet, and so black she's almost blue.

I'll wait to reveal the other photo until I hear who made the final cut.

But today I got an intriguing email from the editor of Mountain Gazette... an email he sent to all of us who submitted photos to the magazine for this little contest, which read:

I'm putting together a list of 10-20 reasons why people should have dogs for inclusion in our subscription ad. If you'd like to send in one (and, please, one only) one-sentence reason why people should have dogs (or what dogs bring to our lives, anything along those lines), I'd love to see what our dog photo contributors come up with. Funny, poignant, obvious, not obvious— as long at is relates to dogs in general and necessarily to one specific dog... If nothing comes to mind, fret not.

I thought about it all morning, whenever I had a moment... Why do we love our dogs? I re-Googled a few old quotes, favorites of mine, about dogs, to find inspiration. I love Travels With Charley. It's one of my favorite books of all time. So much of what Steinbeck had to say about dogs, especially his giant poodle, Charley, rings true to me. Like:

"A dog is a bond between strangers."

And:

"It is my experience that in some areas Charley is more intelligent than I am, but in others he is abysmally ignorant. He can't read, can't drive a car, and has no grasp of mathematics. But in his own field of endeavor, which he is now practicing, the slow, imperial smelling over and anointing on an area, he has no peer. Of course his horizons are limited, but how wide are mine?"

My favorite dog-quote really has very little to say about dogs. But it is one borne by many a Bookman's employee and customer; it's on one of their popular T-shirts, a quote by Groucho Marx:

" Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read."

I like that one because it's kinda funny, and a bit unexpected the first time you read it. It gets less funny the more you read it. But still...

As I've said before, I love our old dog, Shadow. And I'm learning to love our crazy puppy, Rubia, too. I think most dogs are good dogs. Better than people sometimes. I think dogs are a means for us to better understand ourselves. In my case, our first-dog was an important means to help me gain unexpected insight into my capacity to love something, or someone, that I really never expected to love, in a bigger and better way than I ever imagined I could.

I really do think it was this dog-borne epiphany that compelled me to really want to become a dad. And I'm so glad it did!

So in the end, after a lot of thought, I sent this to the editor today:

"Dog is patient. Dog is kind. Dog does not boast. Dog never fails."

Gotta say: I think I got that one right.

Shaken-down and Sold-out

2011-01-08T16:37:00.009-07:00

2011 Specialized Epic Comp 29er

I took my new bike to Sedona early today, well before the mud and ice were able to thaw, for its inaugural ride. I assembled it down at the shop over the course of a couple afternoons after work this week.

I had originally considered going down to ride on the weekend with a group from the shop. But then, later in the week, I sorta settled on the idea that I might take my daughter skiing instead. In the end however, once Saturday morning finally rolled around, posting a max-temp of 19 degrees on the mountain at 8:30 AM, I opted instead to go down to Sedona and ride alone in order to work out any kinks or quirks of the sort that tend to reveal themselves on first-rides on new bikes. Every new bike needs a good shake-down ride, just to make sure everything's snug. That's what I say.

Plus, I really didn't want to slow anyone down.

Ya see, this new bike is very new. Especially to me. Not just out-of-the-box new, although it is that, and in my world that's pretty novel. But this bike is actually new to me in the sense that it's a totally-radical, turn-the-world-on-its-head, like-nothing-ever-before sort of new thing, too.

Ibis Mtn. Trials

I've got a lot of bikes. That's no secret. But they're all of a vintage and quality that befits bikes of their age and utility. In a nutshell, they're all old bikes. Old, rigid, hardtail (I hate that word by the way; it's stupid) steel bikes that creak. And break. A lot. And, frankly, I've been growing tired of trying to keep them running. However, until recently, that's pretty much the only choice I've had: keep 'em going or stop riding. And I really didn't consider the latter choice to be anything but hypothetical.

Retrotec

So, basically I've got a garage full of crappy old bikes that only a bike-dork like me could love. And, to the degree that they're material things that really don't matter much in the long run, I do love them. They're all great bikes that I've spent a lot of time riding. I dig brass fillets and TIG welds, Prestige tubing, top-mounted friction shifters, rigid forks, SS-5 levers, canti-brakes, and old Onza pedals.

Rock Lobster

And, honestly, when they're running, pretty much all my bikes have always been able to take me where I want to go. And, except in the most extreme cases, they get me there at more-or-less the same rate as my friends. More-or-less. Over the years, I must admit, I've become ever more familiar with the status of Off The Back Jack. Not because I like it back there, eating dust, but because, in truth, that's where you end up when you're on an old rigid hardtail bike and your pals are all riding fancy new lightweight bikes with shocks front and rear. It's only a matter of seconds, occasionally minutes, between our times, but on a lot of trails that can still make you feel like you're pretty much riding alone, as all your companions disappear ahead of you around the furthest bend in the trail.

So I finally sold-out and bought a new bike. A real, live 21st-century bike, a 2011 Specialized Epic Comp 29er. A pretty nice bike, if I do say so myself. Easily the most expensive bike I've ever owned. And also the most technologically intimidating.

Lots to learn. Lots to figure out. A ton of stuff I've never really dinked around with much, much less ridden any further than around the block downtown: disc brakes, shocks, pressure settings, rebound and compression adjusters, clicking shifters... plus a whole new kind of handling: new approaches to going up, and especially to going down.

And so today I rode alone, sans friends, sans iPod, sans GPS, sans camera. Because, I didn't want to have any distractions, and as I mentioned above: I didn't want to slow anyone down.

Brain

And I think that was a good idea. 'Cause I stopped. Several times.

To click my rear shock rebound knob a setting or two
To set the Brain knob a few more stops clockwise, toward firm
To pump a few more pounds of air into the negative spring in my fork
And once, unexpectedly, at the top of a hill, to pick myself up off the trail where I'd tumbled over the front of the bike when my fork compressed into a rock. Dur.

But, all in all, despite the many stops and the tumble, it was a fabulous ride! As in really, really super awesome! I've gotta say: I think like this bike. A lot. Sold!

With that in mind, yet still thinking and writing from the perspective of a confirmed, card-carrying Luddite, I'd like to offer a few conclusions, which I drew during my shake-down ride today... a few rather surprising conclusions, I think:

Disc brakes work great, even when they're super-new and still a bit grabby
Suspension lets you go fast-as-ever (maybe faster) over gnarly stuff and yet your neck and shoulders don't ache at the end of the ride
Clicky-shifters find their gears well; you've only got to remember which of four buttons to push and then push the right one.
Bunny-hopping on a bike with full-suspension is hard, or at least very different... and maybe nearly completely unnecessary, as the suspension lets you kinda plow a line straight through the stuff you'd normally try and hop over
When you float off a ledge you also float into your landing. The sensation is like jumping onto a waterbed.
Bigger wheels do let you drop taller steps, but you've got to prepare for the fork compression a the bottom of the step, and fork compression seems to change the way a bike handles in these situations.

So, there it is. One new bike: thoroughly shaken-down. One grumpy old-bike rider: happily sold-out!

Happy New Year

2010-12-31T21:11:00.000-07:00

The Top Ten In Oh Ten

2010-12-31T09:54:00.003-07:00

Everyone else is doing it today... So, I figure, why not? I'm gonna write my very own 2010 Top Ten List, too!

But first, a few stats: Here at rockychrysler.blogspot.com we got a whopping-huge 8207 pageviews this past year, of that over 5100 views were unique, which I think is a better way of looking at how many actual, individual people visited this site last year... However, I could be wrong about this. I'm no SEO expert, that's for sure. But I know enough to know this: those are not exactly earth-shattering numbers. Nevertheless, I think I'm satisfied with them. This is, after-all just a place for me to "practice writing," which really means it's just another blog in the vast array of navel-gazey blogs that are clogging our cultural In-Sink-Erator.

Anyway, here's a list of the Top Ten posts on rockychrysler.blogspot.com in 2010 based on the number of unique pageviews each received (feel free to click-thru and read the ones you might have missed):

Number 1: Just about a bike [Retrotec #64] - 31 July 2010 (194 unique pageviews)

Number 2: Hangover - 14 November 2010 (166 unique pageviews)

Number 3: What I really think about snow-making at Snowbowl - 29 August 2010 (137 unique pageviews)

Number 4: The Resurrection of Rock Lobster #06 - 10 October 2010 (100 unique pageviews)

Number 5: Just about a bike [Rock Lobster] - 25 April 2010 (100 unique pageviews)

Number 6: Just about a bike [Ibis Mountain Trials] - 22 March 2010 (61 unique pageviews)

Number 7: Who? (57 unique pageviews)

Number 8: #Flagstafffire. Not a good meme - 20 June 2010 (54 unique pageviews)

Number 9: How? (47 unique pageviews)

Number 10: Wow. Okay. Maybe - 29 May 2010 (46 unique pageviews)

Slipped through the cracks

2010-12-24T12:50:00.001-07:00

I'm sitting here this afternoon too sick to hike in the woods, too sick to ski on the mountain, too sick to head down to Sedona for a ride.

Instead, I'm listening-in as my wife and daughter play Disney-Scrabble together, wishing I felt good enough to play, too. In the meantime, I've been watching videos. Mostly bike-riding videos today, for some reason. Lift-served skiing officially starts tomorrow... and I'm stoked about that. But, I'm also happy to be able to note: I've already had one (kinda) fun day on the mountain already, hiking up and skiing down with Ken last Saturday (see below: best viewed with the map in Terrain mode, I think).

But for today, I'm just hangin' on the couch watching Sedona trail videos, hoping I get well soon.

And, it's occurred to me, just moments ago, that I failed to post-up the one-and-only video I shot while riding with Lyle, and Mark, and Joe in Sedona over the Thanksgiving weekend. I only shot one video because I was too busy talking and laughing and riding and saying stuff like "Wow!" about a million times during this ride on the sooooper secret (not really) Highline Trail on the Cathedral Rock complex between Sedona and Village of Oak Creek. There's nothing especially interesting in the video below, except that it serves as some kind of a record of what was a really awesome day out riding with some good, old friends.

For whatever it's worth, we rode together for about 4 hours and did what's known in Sedona as a double-H ride: Highline and the Hogs (the triple-H adds 2 more hours and includes the Hangover trail). As I mentioned in a previous post, there's a lot of neat new trail-building going on down there, and these two exceptionally cool trails are additional examples of that work.

If you're curious about what I'm talking about, and you'd like to see more of these trails from a first-person, helmet-cam perspective, click on the videos below (I'd like to apologize ahead of time for Traildoc's antiquated and uninspired tastes in music):

Highline Pt. 1:

Highline Pt. 2:

The Hogs:

Hangover:

In defense of all of us nerds [updated]

2010-12-19T22:31:00.012-07:00

I've been corresponding with the editor of our local newspaper a bit lately. Which, you know, is kind of exciting.

Some time ago, on Twitter, he/they/whoever tweets as @azds, said they were, "Seeking testimonials from Daily Sun Twitter followers..." To which I responded, "I'd be happy to contribute, if you're still in need." I was honestly more-than-happy to oblige. I like Twitter precisely because of the things I'm able to glean from organizations like the Daily Sun, along with NPR, the Arizona Snowbowl, Huffington Post, and about 15 other Twitter-users who I follow but who don't follow me back. I guess that's okay. I mean, it kinda hurts my feelings when other Twitterers don't follow me back. But I guess I understand, too... It's all part of the Great Unseen Internet Hierarchy which relegates bloggers and others like me to some too-crowded rung near the bottom of the ladder.

Update: Here's the ad.

Anyway, as I expected it would, it took awhile, but the editor finally emailed me back last week to ask for the testimonial and a short bio. And also to schedule a photo shoot with one of his photojournalists. I met him down at the shop last Thursday after work. He was a nice guy. Seemed a bit puzzled about the assignment, but he thought it would be cool, given the weather and all my waterproof garb, to get a few pictures of me standing with my bike on my shoulder in front of Lyle's awesome mural on the shop's west-most wall.

Tony. Manager of nerds.

I didn't expect to see the pictures anytime soon; I was under the impression they were going to run along with my testimonial and bio as part of the First. Best. series the paper's been doing lately. But somehow my friend (and shop manager) Tony found one of them on the Sun's website. It didn't actually run anywhere in-print. Nor does it appear to have been linked-to from any section of the paper online. But there it is: me, looking like a dork, riding my bike home from work on a wet, slightly-snowy afternoon.

When he posted the picture of me on the shop's Facebook yesterday, Tony called me a nerd for riding my bike in the snow... though, in fairness it's a label he applied to all of us who work together at the bike shop. It's not a label I dispute.

But, in defense of all of us nerds who ride bikes in the snow, I wanted to show this video of a whole city full of nerds-on-bikes-in-snow. In the short time that this 67-second Flickr video takes to show the traffic passing through an intersection in Leiden (It's in the Netherlands), I count at least 30 bicycles that ride past... each quite capably, I might add... in the snow, too. Just like it's no big deal.

Video CC Non-commercial Share-alike Attribution via Flickr user _Alicia

You should try it sometime. It's fun!

The New Age: Post-Conversationalism

2010-12-16T15:51:00.001-07:00

My wife and I have decided that we, she and I and all of us denizens of the Internets, are now living in a Brand New Age... the age of post-conversationalism... a heretofore uncoined term we're pleased to introduce into the modern lexicon right now (just try to Google it).

It's not groundbreaking, nor is it even the least bit shocking, to point out that we live in a time when it's often more convenient to send a text message than it is to make a call... when it's simpler to Google the right answer than it is to try and suss it out with dialog, discourse, and maybe even disagreement... when an email, a Tweet, or a Facebook update will suffice for a greeting, a well-wish, or, heck, almost anything.

There are probably lots of other examples of what we're talking about. Like blogging? Maybe.

What seems to have gone unrecognized to this point is that, just as postmodernism tends to grey-up what Truth is (or might be), post-conversationalism does likewise with what might qualify as discourse and dialog.

How apropos!
A virtual coupon for a real conversation.

Most of us would probably consider all of the aforementioned forms of communication to be types of conversation. But really, they're not the same. Don't think so? Ask yourself, next time you're sitting around having a cuppa and a conversation with a friend or a lover or a child: Is this anything like an email, or a status update? You're sure to come to the same conclusion we have: It's not. It's nothing like those things. Face-to-face conversation's different. Whatever it is we're doing here on the 'Net, it's not the same.

To be sure: real, live conversation isn't completely dead. We've still gotta talk occasionally. But, it's not exactly thriving anymore either, is it? Like letter-writing, handwriting, and postage stamps, it's ever becoming more and more archaic and quaint.

We're not here to make recommendations, or to get all-preachy or nostalgic. Nor are we going to try and somehow deconstruct this new age, this new post-conversationalism in which we live. We only hope to recognize its presence... and perhaps coin a new term... while pointing out the obvious... which is, in fact, the epiphany we ourselves had just a couple of nights ago:

It's been too long since we talked.

Little Red Trailer

2010-12-13T16:10:00.003-07:00

Little Red Trailer review

My friend Josh recently acquired a new website: Commute By Bike and asked me to review a new product for them: a little red, wooden bike utility trailer called the Little Red Trailer (natch). It's made out of recycled wood and it's pretty darn good for hauling stuff around. I finished it yesterday and it posted to their website this afternoon. I think it came out okay.

She's quite handy with that cordless drill

Even if you're not into bike trailers (what?!), the review has some fun pictures of my kid in it; she helped me unbox and assemble it in the living room a few weeks ago.

A Few Borrowed Lines About Our Old Dog Shadow

2010-12-04T19:35:00.018-07:00

[UPDATED June 2011 - See below]

There's this great poem, by a writer named Paul Mariani, that I memorized long, long ago, back in college, when I was competing on the Arizona State Forensics Squad. At the time I used the poem, entitled Lines I Told Myself I Wouldn't Write, as a dramatic-interp piece, and I did pretty well with it.

It's about a guy who loves and then loses a good old dog.

"I promised myself I wouldn't go soft over one fleabag arthritic half gone in the head..."

UPDATE - June 2011

I shared this blog entry with the guy who wrote the poem that inspired it, Paul Mariani. In an email to him at Boston College I wrote:

Hello Dr. Mariani,

We've never met. But long ago I read and loved a poem you wrote, Lines I Told Myself I Wouldn't Write. Some time ago I was compelled to use it as inspiration for a blog entry and, likewise, to write a kind of homage to it. I am not a poet. Nor much of a writer, in fact. I am an elementary school teacher, truth be told. But the poem has long been special to me. I have shared it, or parts of it, with many people over many years. And I am reminded of it regularly of late. My dog is not lost, but she is getting old. For all of those reasons, I wanted to share what I've written with you. I know that's probably a silly thing. But I wanted to say, "Thanks for your words. You are an excellent writer."

Here is the link to my blog: http://rockychrysler.blogspot.com/2010/12/few-borrowed-lines-about-our-old-dog.html

He was kind enough to respond the same day with the following:

Thanks, John, for forwarding your lovely poem about Shadow. I don't think one ever forgets a dog you've had this long. And though my son Mark has lost yet another dog, Bergen, a golden retriever--we still remember Sparky. In fact, about 15 years after I wrote Lines I wrote another poem for him, which I enclose here. The English in particular seem to love this one, for BBC has aired it several times, though I've never heard it. Take care, and may those Arizona fires finally quiet down. Best, Paul Mariani

Here's a link to the poem he forwarded to me. It's very good. Made my wife cry.

Days Like These

2010-11-21T19:27:00.002-07:00

Around here, we pretty much get excited whenever it starts to snow. As in always. But, we get doubly excited when the first snow of the season begins to fall, as it did today.

While it didn't snow-and-stick much in our neighborhood, and we were disappointed to find the road up the mountain closed on our quest to find real snow, we nevertheless were able to locate a pretty decent stash of a couple-three inches of snow to play in out in the woods near Baderville.

As we've done every year for the past several years, we built a snowgirl, watched the dog(s) run and play, and shot a little home video. Nothing especially notable, except that today was Rubi(the new puppy)'s first time in the snow. We're pretty sure she enjoyed herself.

Otherwise, what follows is just another four-minute video of us doing what we do.

Life is good.

Hangover

2010-11-14T20:15:00.011-07:00

A lot's been said, and believe it or not, even more's been done, about wildcat trail-building in Sedona, Arizona.

What's a wildcat trail? A wildcat trail is a trail that somebody made (or sometimes found) without anyone's permission that goes somewhere (usually somewhere cool or essential) where previously there wasn't a trail. Often they're pretty well-hidden, like any good secret. And likewise, information about their location often spreads by word-of-mouth. Nine times out of ten, they're right where you always thought, "Man, it would be so cool if there was a trail there."

Typically they're not especially well-built, sensible, or sustainable. Often they simply follow the path-of-least resistance to their destination. But because they receive far less traffic than sanctioned, system trails, this usually isn't that big a deal.

I'll tell you right now: I, for one, am a proponent of this sort of improvised, experimental, nonsanctioned, nonsystem social trail. And I don't really care how you feel about them... unless, of course, you are a proponent of them as well. As you should be. Because pretty much every trail that you love, if it wasn't built by volunteers in the last 10 years probably began as a wildcat trail. Or a road.

But, as I've already said, typically wildcat trails are not especially well-built or sustainable. However, some are.

Hangover, in Sedona, is one wildcat trail that's definitely in that latter category. No mere social trail, Hangover is an unbelievably well-scouted, built, and maintained trail. It is, in a nutshell, someone's life-work, his (or her) crowning achievement. Hands-down, it's the most solidly constructed, bold, sustainable, challenging, frightening, thrilling, clever wildcat trail I've ever had the pleasure to ride in all my years on a bike.

I got to ride it today, for the very first time, with my friend Joe (aka Rockman). He's pretty much famous for his knowledge of the Sedona trail-system and many of its denizens, too. I maybe could have done this ride without him. But I'm really glad I didn't.

We did an eight mile loop in just under two-and-a-half hours, with one short stop for snacks. It was a blast riding this incredible trail with Joe today.

An absolute, unmitigated, total blast.

More pictures (Thanks, Rockman!):

Link-to BONUS: Bike Magazine's Morgan Meredith also rode this trail some time ago and took a series of really incredible pictures.

It's altogther too easy to overlook the oak

2010-10-25T16:23:00.009-07:00

The annual Leaf-Peeping Madness compels swarms of people to inundate the Peaks looking for special golden stands of quaking aspen.

But aspen, like spotted owl, are a delicate breed, too-sensitive to climactic whims, the ebb and flow of time, and change.

Gambel oak, though perhaps lacking in coloration and stature the majesty and grandeur of quaking aspen, are nevertheless a hardier lot, ready throughout the millennia to withstand drought, fire, harsh climatic change, and rocky, alkaline ground. For all this, and its many beneficial uses, as well as for its uncommon beauty, the oak merits respect and attention.

It's altogether too easy to overlook the oak. And yet, the woods all around us, not just those at elevation, are filled with impressive color these days. This is the height of oaken-Autumn. This is the week of the year when the oaks turn together.

Cold, Dry, And Far South

2010-10-18T20:50:00.003-07:00

Once upon a time we traveled to Mexico every year. Year after year after year. Some years, twice. In October, for sure, and then again often in March. It was grand.

We were younger then. And thinner (at least I was). Newly married and childless.

It was just Puerto Peñasco (Rocky Point), and a white-washed rented villa on the beach; within our means, and nothing too exotic. But it was ours. At least for a week at a time.

And, as I said: it was grand.

But, almost six years ago now, we got pregnant and (wonder of wonders!) we had a kid. Afterward my wife became a stay-at-home mom.

And that has been a wonderful thing!

But as a single-income family living on a mid-career public-school teacher's salary, we had to make a few adjustments in our lifestyle in order to get this arrangement to work. And, I'll admit, with some sadness, our annual trip(s) to Mexico was among the first of many extravagant things that found its neck on our fiscal cutting block.

But it's all been worth it. Our daughter's older now. In kindergarten. And (in my humble opinion) so smart and well-adjusted and interesting.

Worth it, indeed.

But we miss the beach. A lot. And the food.

More than that, we miss our favorite Mexico-beach-vacation traveling companions, Mike and Kathy. Over the course of many years, we spent nearly every trip down there with them, save only a few. Like us, they're both school teachers. Plus, they're friendly, intelligent, and extraordinarily intrepid travelers. They were a real pleasure to travel with and I know of few noteworthy places in the world they haven't been.

Of course, Antarctica always came to mind. At least until recently.

Mike retired a few years ago. But Kathy's still teaching, after like 30 years in the classroom. In the interim, since he shuffled off the rigors and constraints of a work-a-day job, Mike's been working as a river guide, running regular trips down the Colorado for an array of important clients.

However, just a few months ago, Mike sent out an excited email to many of his friends (us included) indicating that his long-time dream of living and working in Antarctica for a season was finally going to happen, during the southern hemisphere Spring and Summer this year.

He left Flagstaff just a few weeks ago. To spend five months "on the ice." Without his very-understanding wife, I might add.

He's there right now. In the cold. Living at McMurdo Station. Driving Ivan The Terra-Bus back and forth between Happy Campers Camp and the Ice Runway. And blogging about it. He calls his blog, which he updates almost every day, Cold, Dry, And Far South. It's fascinating. Totally fascinating. I promise.

I'd like to encourage you to give it a read now and then.

The Resurrection of Rock Lobster #06

2010-10-10T18:09:00.010-07:00

The Rock Lobster is rebuilt (You may recall: it broke). And it is good!

snow-nado [UPDATED]

2010-10-06T09:46:00.003-07:00

[October 10, 2010] The official NOAA updates of this significant weather event just get more and more remarkable.

Six confirmed, possibly as many as nine separate tornado tracks.
Confirmed baseball-size hail
100 homes damaged, 21 deemed uninhabitable.
One, perhaps two funnels rated at or above F-2 (significant tornado)

snow-nado, originally uploaded by rockychrysler.

October 6, 2010 -- snowing on peaks; tornadoing in bellemont

thirteen

2010-10-02T11:24:00.015-07:00

Fridays at school the kids go home early, right after lunch. And most weeks, after the kids leave, we're given a few solid hours to collaborate with our coworkers and make plans and grade papers. It's great. Except for the grading. I'm not a big fan of grading papers...

While I work on planning and grading I usually fire up Songbird and use it to listen to the new slate of songs posted on my very favorite music website, Cover Lay Down.

Songbird is a multi-platform web-browser built on the same code as Firefox. But, what's cool and different about Songbird is how it lists all the songs embedded on any given website in a neat little file-index window below the browser window. All ya gotta do is press the play button to listen to all the music on the site. I think Songbird's a pretty neat deal.

The blog Cover Lay Down, as the name implies, features mostly cover-songs. In their own words:

"At Cover Lay Down, we believe that familiarity breeds contentment — that is, that coversongs create an especially powerful comfort zone for fans to discover new artists and composers. As such, all songs included herein are ultimately shared for the purpose of introducing you to new and previously-unappreciated musicians, that you might follow the threads to those artists’ original works, and in doing so, become part of the base of support which allows musicianship to continue to be a fruitful way to make a living, and allows the creation of new music itself to be subsidized."

I think that's a great policy. And, thanks to Cover Lay Down, I have encountered a bunch of great new folksy artists and composers. Plus, I'm fascinated by cover songs... the new ways in which a familiar song can be recreated and take on the unique nuances of an artist's voice and musicianship while still maintaining much of its original melodic and lyrical structure.

Some time ago Cover Lay Down featured a cover of one of my favorite songs, Thirteen, by the '70s band Big Star (whose co-founder Alex Chilton died this past March, by the way). I'm sure you know it. It's a great song that's probably been covered a gagillion times. But, this particular cover of Thirteen was done by two artists I was only marginally familiar with: Beth Orton and Sam Amidon. They do it as a lovely, kinda jangly, down-tempo acoustic duet. It's nice. And it got me to thinking about other covers of the same song that I've enjoyed over the years. So I browsed on over to The Hype Machine and searched around.

BTW: Thanks to this blog, Cover Lay Down, and a few others for having a very similar opinion of this song to my own, and for posting many of these covers online, saving me the trouble (and perhaps the liability, too).

Wilco does a pretty good rather countrified, fiddle-and-slide version. [wilcoworld.net]
Elliot Smith's version is good, too. [sweetadeline.net]
As is Kathryn Williams. [kathrynwilliams.net]
Mary Lou Lord's take is tender and personal. [myspace.com/maryloulord]
Evan Dando's live version is great. [evandando.co.uk]
This one, by a band called Woodpigeon was new to me, and a pleasant surprise. [woodpigeon-songbook.com]
And, of course, I think this remixed version of Big Star's original is neat, too. [bigstarband.com]
Metafilter user chococat recorded this rendition in his(?) basement upon the death of Alex Chilton. [fromabasement.com]

Finally, this live version, by my favorite band of all time, Travis, is pretty darn great, too!

Last of all, as a bonus, here's Travis again, this time doing a different and really surprisingly great live cover... of Britney Spears' Baby One More Time.

Gerv!

2010-09-26T20:19:00.004-07:00

Maybe you don't know Gerv. You should. Grant "Brad" Gerver is kind of a legendary dude in my world.

He was my cooperating teacher, back in 1992. And it was he, more than anyone else, who taught me how to be a school teacher. I think he did a pretty good job. He's an awesome teacher. Ask anyone who's ever learned from him or worked with him. Everyone agrees. He's one of a kind. The very best.

His students always call him, "Gerv!" Not Mr. G. Definitely not Mr. Gerver. Just Gerv. My daughter calls him that, too. So does my wife. As do I.

We'd never met, Gerv and I, until I started my student teaching; I met him for the first time in the doorway of his classroom at Weitzel Elementary School. He shook my hand and welcomed me sincerely. That was a long, long time ago. But we have been good friends ever since.

Gerv's retired now. A well-deserved honor after many, many years of a job well done. These days, when he's not out riding his bike hither-and-yon around town, he writes witty bumper-stickers, original blues songs, and plays his guitar in his little home-office under the stairs.

He's an incredible guitar player and has a voice that was made to sing the blues.

March 1, 2020

2010-09-24T20:06:00.002-07:00

I'm not good with dates. In my lifetime I've forgotten my mom's and dad's birthdays several times. Been off by a week or two for many friends', even girlfriends' birthdays, on several occasions. I've missed performances, and rehearsals, and tons of other important things due to my disability with dates. Once I even got fired for this; forgot to attend an important client's special event during my first year out of college while working in PR.

I deserved it. It was a lame oversight.

All part of my "accidental" path to becoming a teacher, I guess.

But, I do know our wedding anniversary. My wife's birthday. And my kid's. They're all important days to me. I've never forgotten any of them.

I also usually know the start and end dates of the school year long before the school year's begun.

And, I'll sometimes have a deadline or two in mind, too. For whatever it's worth, these days, I do tend to hit my deadlines a little bit early whenever I can.

To be fair, I should add: Google calendar helps me a lot with all this.

But, along with all these important dates, there's one other that I've got stored away in the corner of my mind. March 1, 2020. And every year about this time I get a wonderful reminder of it... in the mail from the Arizona State Retirement System (ASRS). According to the mailing, on that date... March 1, 2020... a date that's now officially a smidge less than a decade away... I will have earned my 80 points... 80 and 49 thousandths points to be precise... and, per ASRS, that means, by whatever arbitrary algorithm of odd calculations they're using to determine such things, on that day the great State of Arizona has determined I will become eligible for something they call Normal Retirement... which sounds a whole heckuva lot like plain ol' retirement! Which, at 53 years of age, after mere 26.7 years in the game, ain't too shabby.

It's a Sunday.

I'm thinking, on Monday, March 2, 2020, I'll probably call-off...

I didn't pump my tire.

2010-09-21T22:11:00.000-07:00

Not as late-to-the-game with this little gem as I might have guessed. With less than 5000 views since it was first posted in July, it's apparently taken a little time to gather steam. My fellow bike-riding weather-wonker (yes, that's really what we call ourselves) Joe (Rockman) shared the link with me via the email earlier tonight. And I, doing my due diligence, will now share it with you.

If you've been riding mountain bikes for a while, like say for the last 10 or 20 years, I think you'll think it's especially clever. At 4:30, it's a bit longish; granted. But give it a chance. It's funny. Smart. Self-deprecating. And surprisingly thorough.

Riding in Whistler. In the summer! In the snow!

2010-09-16T22:04:00.003-07:00

Linden, my super-cool sales-floor manager at the shop, along her husband Andy, our repair-shop manager, are taking a lengthy (and much deserved) hiatus from Arizona and visiting Whistler Mountain in British Columbia, Canadia, for a few weeks this month. She's blogging about it some. But, probably, knowing Linden and Andy, I'm gonna bet that they're way too busy riding (n-stuff) to do too much posting-online while they're away.

So, for the time being, we'll have to be content with this... Linden's helmet-cam footage of the Redbull 5000 Down race last Sunday... the first 13 minutes of it anyway (her camera died)... Ya gotta check it out! Five-inches of summer-fresh pow. 500 flailing downhillers! An endless streak of super-muddy trails. Linden passing several armor-clad tough-guys. Rain and more rain. And your standard terrible heavy metal soundtrack to top it all off. Heck yes! That's just about as good as it gets! I give it 5 stars.

Riding in Borneo. Yeah. Borneo

2010-09-15T22:23:00.002-07:00

My buddy Ben and his family are living and teaching in Borneo this year. To be unnecessarily specific, they're in Balikpapan, East Kalimantan, Borneo, Indonesia. Ben posted a few pictures on Flickr the other day of his group ride last weekend [GPS]. In a nutshell: they're insane... a trillion colors of green... weird murky streams... and some odd, too-narrow urban by-ways for good measure. Worth a look, if only because you're curious... and you know (let's be honest) you're never gonna ride there yourself.

Craigslist ... Rock Lobster Resurrection Project begins

2010-09-12T09:48:00.005-07:00

Paul Sadoff is awesome! The Rock Lobster is back. And it's repaired! On to paint and, after that: rebuilding and riding!

In the course of things, I decided to have the bike shipped to the shop since there would be no one to receive it at home during the day during the week. I knew the guys at the shop would take good care of it and gimme a call when it arrived.

They did.

Rock Lobster - $75 (Flagstaff)

But first they unboxed it and put it on Craigslist!

For Sale is a Rock Lobster mountain bike frame for 26 wheels. It has recently ben repaired, so there's no paint, but I swear it's a rock lobster! It has a lugged front tube and everywhere else it is welded with what appears to be bronze. It also has a little loop thing under the seat, I don't know what for. It also has backwards wheel slots so you can single speed it if yer tuff enuff. I'm selling it because I can't put disc brakes on it and v brakes suck. At $85 it won't last long so call today! No emails please, I don't know much about computers and it's taken me hours just to make this ad.

FWIW, I think 75 bucks (or is it 85 bucks?) is a pretty darn good deal.

Stu-In-Flag dot net

2010-09-04T22:14:00.004-07:00

I don't know Stuart. But, as often happens in Flagstaff, I know people who know Stuart.

We're a one-degree-of-separation kind of town.

Stu has a blog. It's about the weather. I read it every day. And I look at his weather instrument data everyday. Stu's got way more toys to measure weather-stuff than I do. And, from my perspective, he knows a heck of a lot more about the weather than I do, too. I'm pretty wonky about weather. But Stu makes me look pretty much clueless.

He's kinda become my hero.

But then, today, he posts up this pessimistic crap:

"So, where does that leave us for the winter? Sorry folks. As of the start of September, it appears this winter will be near climitological normals for temperature. Now, the global outlook is for a colder than normal winter. This may cause Northern Arizona to be colder than normal. I’m just not sure. I doubt it will be warmer. This cooling trend is being driven by a very weak solar cycle among other things.
"On the precipitation side, we will be dry. Probably very dry. December – February may see precipitation totals of less than 1.5 inches. I won’t be buying a season pass at Snowbowl."

To which I must say: WHATEVER, Stu!

What. Ever.

Might need to find me a new guru...

What I really think about snow-making at Snowbowl

2010-08-29T21:50:00.007-07:00

Tomorrow night our City Council will hold one last session wherein public opinion on the subject of selling well- or reclaimed-water to the Arizona Snowbowl for artificial snow-making will be heard. I'm not planning to attend. I have a feeling the whole thing's a done-deal. Not to sound too-much the cynic, but money talks, ya know; it's sorta the way things roll in Flagstaff. Nevertheless, for posterity... and just in case someone with their finger more on-the-pulse or better able to get-the-ear of our oft' misguided but generally well-intentioned Council happens upon this post... I wanted to state my case. For the record, you know.

I love to ski. Anyone who knows me knows that. But that's an easy thing to say: "I love to ski." Anybody who's ever skied has probably described the experience with the same words. But, really, in my case, it's the truth: I love to ski. That is simply the best way to express my fondness for skiing. I love it. Absolutely totally love it.

I learned to ski at the Arizona Snowbowl in 1984 or 1985. I don't remember what month of that season I first made the trip up the road. But that's when it was. My senior year in high school. I was a late bloomer. My buddy Derrill and I learned together. And every year since, pretty much without fail, we still make at least one trip up the mountain together for a day skiing.

I've had a season pass at Snowbowl for the last 10, maybe 12 years... ever since I could afford such an expensive luxury. And I've always felt that it was a $400.00 gamble... some years it snows a lot, some years not so much. Ya take what you can get on the Peaks. This is, after all, Arizona.

I think I'm a fairly decent skier. I ski with a lot of folks who are a lot better than me. Folks with names well-known on the mountain... unlike my own. And they school me. Regularly. But I can hang, much of the time. And even if I can't, even when I flail, even when I flail huge, I've still almost always got my stoke on. Because I love to ski.

When Snowbowl's open, I'm there every chance I get. Every Opening Day (and sometimes well before that I'm hiking up Ridge for first tracks on Upper White Lightning). Every Snow Day. Every weekend. Every holiday. I never take personal days from work. Except to ski. When Snowbowl's open in November, I'm there in November, rejoicing. When they're open until April, I'm there until April, rejoicing again. I'm there every chance I get, thick or thin, wet and cold, sunny and baking, I'm there. Sometimes a full day, sometimes a half day. It doesn't matter. I'm up and down that road so often every season that I get seriously sick of driving it. But I do it. Because I love to ski.

Love to ski. Wish I could ski more. If I could choose to do anything other than hang out with my family, I'd choose to go skiing. When I grow up and finally get to retire from my job-job, I want to join the ski patrol. I'm serious.

These are a few of my bona fides:

To recap:

I've been an avid skier for over 25 years.
I love skiing at the Arizona Snowbowl.
I have been a season pass-holder for more than 10 years.
I ski a bunch and I wish (oh, how I wish!) I could ski more.

All that being said, I nevertheless stand AGAINST the proposal currently before the Council to sell water (any water) to the Arizona Snowbowl for the purposes of making artificial snow.

Here's why, in a nutshell:

This is Arizona. It will always be Arizona. Arizona will never regularly be a great place to go skiing.
Water is valuable, too valuable to misuse. Drinking water especially. Especially in Arizona.
Reclaimed water (effluent) still has lots of drugs and metals in it.
Snowbowl, it's employees, and the city arguably stand to benefit more from the area becoming a year-round, four-season resort than they do from extending the ski season by a month or two via snow-making.
Those with a vested interest in the Snowbowl LLC are the only ones who stand to benefit in any material way from the introduction of snow-making at the ski area.
There is no way to gauge any variation in Snowbowl's impact on the local economy between lean, short-season years and years of abundant snow and long seasons. Lengthening the season with snow-making will have no measurable effect on the local economy.

What do I think Snowbowl should do?

Fix the stupid always-slipping-on-powder-days cable/bull-wheel assembly on Agassiz and stop paying for all this litigation.
Resubmit. Go get another EIS, one that includes mountain biking and interpretive hiking and whatever... and become a real four-season resort so you can employ people year-round and sell over-priced hot dogs and hot cocoa year-round, too.
Accept the fact that, despite the aging infrastructure and cigarette-smoking Phoenicians, Snowbowl works pretty-much okay just the way it is and that we're lucky to get whatever snow we get whenever we get it. And we ought to just enjoy it. As it is. Remember: this is Arizona.

Just about a bike [Retrotec #64]

2010-07-31T20:13:00.020-07:00

Better resolutions and even more pics in this flickr photoset. Detailed pictures in this Picasa album.

I wish I could tell you my first mountain bike was a Raleigh Elkhorn. But it wasn't. My little brother's first mountain bike was a Raleigh Elkhorn.

1985 Raleigh Elkhorn at MOMBAT

To me, his second-hand Elkhorn of was a very cool bike... I envied it from the git-go. Right down to the one-size-fits-all paint-color (forest green, natch). In 1991, to my untrained eye, his Elkhorn just seemed to be a bike built for one thing: riding around in the woods. I envied it then. I'm still a little envious. And I'm still more than a little disappointed that he sold it... probably to some dirtbag who ruined it leaving it out in the snow all winter, or let it get stolen, or let it disintegrate into just another a clapped-out beater bike downtown. Tell ya what: someday I'm gonna find me a really sweet old Elkhorn of my own... one that someone's been keeping in a nice, dry garage for like 30 years. And I'm gonna ride it a bunch, in the woods, and I'm never ever going to sell it.

No. My first mountain bike was not an Elkhorn. My first mountain bike was a Motiv Ground Pounder.

Oh, the shame of it...

Practically the only vintage
Motiv anything on the web

Motiv's were everywhere in the 1990s. Sold then, and until recently, by Price Clubs, Costcos, and other similar big-box-bulk retailers, Motiv bikes were inexpensive mountain bikes aimed squarely at the mass market. Back in mountain biking's hey-day they sported pseudo-exciting names (like Ground Pounder, Rock Ridge, and Stone Grinder), garish color-schemes, goopy Taiwanese TIG-welds, super-wide, deeply-padded saddles, and cheap Shimano gruppos (mine was Exage 500LX) with the number of gears (21-speed!) labeled prominently on the chainstay. Lots of people had them.

The only extant picture of me riding my Motiv.
Cactus Cup, Scottsdale, AZ, March 1992

But today, if you scour the Internet for any information on old Motiv mountain bikes (I know; I tried.) you'll come up nearly empty-handed. Their domain registration appears to have expired in 2006 (but their old website, motivsports.com has been preserved at archive.org). No one collects them. No one even seems to have kept them running. They were too cheap and too mass-market to ever have become collectable. But, if you look a little further down in the search results you'll find a few additional Motiv-related nuggets... mentions of Motiv bikes abound in forums for beginners, for newbies, for the totally uninitiated. Turns out, as someone who first got enticed to ride bikes in the woods by riding a Motiv there, I've got a lot of company. So there's that. And, well, for that fact alone, and despite the shame I sometimes feel towards it, I will always credit my old Motiv, my first mountain bike, as the important and valuable... seriously: life-changing... bike that it really and truly was.

But I didn't ride the Motiv for long. I owned it for about 18 months before I gave it (sold it?) to my other younger brother so it could become his first mountain bike. Because, about a year after I moved to Flagstaff, early in the summer of 1992, I'd finally saved up enough money working the night shift at Bookman's to buy myself a new bike... actually just a new bike frame... stripped naked and devoid of any-and-all parts, accessories, or accoutrements such as frame decals or head-badges. Nevertheless it was, at the time, The Bike Of My Dreams... a Bob Seals Retrotec... Number 64, to be precise. Not exactly a custom bike, built just for me... but a brand new, exotic, handmade steel mountain bike like no other that might as well have been built just for me.

Bartlett Wash
Moab, UT, 1993

Within two weeks, I'd had it powder-coated (black), built it up with whatever discounted parts I could scrounge at my local bike shop, and got busy riding it. It's silly, and probably still a figment of my imagination, but I swear: the bike immediately improved my abilities as a rider. I'd never crossed Rocky Ridge, the then-super-challenging, quite-well-named, local trail I'd been practicing my skills on for at least a year, with fewer than 4 dabs... until my first ride across its undulating traverse on the Retrotec... when I cleaned it, in its entirety. No dabs at all! Needless to say, it was more-or-less at this moment that I became a believer in the value of a good bike... and in the assertion that my Retrotec, more than most other bikes in the world, possessed some sort of special magic that made me a better rider.

Internally-routed cables

The Retro's still a favorite-bike. And I still ride it a lot, several times a month, for sure. But it's changed character more than any of my other bikes in the intervening years. It's had flat bars and riser bars, as well as a Surly Torsion Bar with huge sweep... it's had rigid forks and suspension forks, cantilever brakes and widget brakes, toeclips and clipless pedals, bar ends or not, several wheelsets, all kids of new gearing, and more than a couple different stems... including, at one time, an Allsop suspension stem which failed rather catastrophically on me while I was riding down a big rock in Sedona. Ka-blooey.

Mount Elden
Flagstaff, AZ

Now, some 20 years later, the Retro's become a bit of a relic, I guess. Over the years it's been broken and repaired (by Curtis Inglis). And it's broken me pretty badly a couple times, too. It's really just another in a long line of well-worn old hand-built mountain bikes from the 1990s. They're not all that rare. Not really. That's certainly one way to look at it anyway. And, indeed, that's the most common reaction to the bike when I show up for a group ride riding it. But I prefer to view it as more of a period-piece... a good, solid, working example of a by-gone but-good era, of a time not so long ago, back when mountain biking was a lot newer. That makes its mostly eclectic and almost universally obsolete parts-mix a little more interesting and a whole lot less sad.

Thanks MOMBAT
for great links!

I like the bike's unpainted clearcoat finish and the way the brass fillets add golden details to the bike's otherwise gray color. I'm quite proud of the clearcoated Koski DuraTrack fork and Salsa ProMoto stem, too, as well as the black-anno IRD seatpost, silver IRD Widget brakes, and black IRD rear-brake booster. I like the old ratcheting black Shimano Deerhead top-mount shifters, the Dia-Compe SS-5 brake levers and the Oury grips. I think the gun-metal-blue and silver XTR M900 rear derailleur is the best looking bike part Shimano ever produced, and that the polished silver XT hubs and the 110mm 5-bolt XT cranks run a close second and third (in that order). I'm convinced the hand-laced wheels built on gray Mavic 217 hoops match the frame color almost perfectly. I still think they're simple-n-cool, so I have old-school Onza clipless pedals on most of my bikes, including this one. And finally, I think the black 1-inch Chris King 2Nut headset and the stainless King bottle cages add a nice touch of class.

For what it's worth, the black Ritchey Pro 30mm riser bars and the Specialized BG Pro saddle aren't really period, but they're not ridiculous either. Plus, I like them.

It started with a Motiv. Sure. The Motiv set the hook in me, no question about it. But the Retrotec will always be the bike that taught me how to ride well and moreover, how to become a better rider. And for that I'll always sorta consider it First-Bike. The Motiv's long gone, and that's okay. But it's my hope that the Retro will always be with me.

Flagstaff, AZ
by Ben Sheridan

Sedona, AZ,
by Jason Blackketter

Moab, UT
by Rod Horn

Flagstaff, AZ
by Ben Sheridan

Better resolutions and even more pics in this flickr photoset. Detailed pictures in this Picasa album.