Friday, January 30

A transcript of a recent phone call received at work:

"Hello."

"Hello...ummm....I just wanted to let you guys know that I was at the Matthew Winters parking lot the other day, and I saw one of your company cars, and ummmm....on top of it was an orange singlespeed with a sticker that said...(pause for shock value)......fuck that shift.....and ummm....I just wanted to say that while I wasn't personally that offended I bet if a little kid saw it...well...that would be a bad thing."

"Hmmm...interesting, well thanks for letting us know. Actually that's my bike."

"Oh, ummm....Ok. goodbye."

It's friday, it's warm and and my bike sits in the corner of the office, ready to be ridden with friends at lunch. High noon at Eben G Fine park.

Thursday, January 29

We're entering the throat of the beast so to speak now with winter. It seems like in recent years, December and January are mere teases. The snow is sparse, and it's almost like the warmth of fall lingers on, and it takes winter awhile to gain her grip. February and March are more promising, with more frequent and heavier snows, peaking out sometime in late March. And then, about six weeks of magical season where the snow remains, but the rising temperatures and the slight emergence of life creeps into the high country. A big storm or three in April, a last gasp in May, and then summer. It's a long way off, but it will be here in no time.

We're in one of those patterns where the conditions in Happy Valley are considerably worse than anywhere else. We're in something of a Continental Divide shadow here, so the massive winds, and the lingering snow that perpetuates in the high country hits us. Huge winds tonight, rocking my shed as I did a little bike prep for tomorrow's lunch ride. A new pair of white, wooden army skis sits in the shed, calling for a weekend adventure. More on that soon. They're even predicting a storm Saturday night, so this could be one of the very few opportunities for freshies in '04.

King Nimby departed, or will soon be departing, for Mexico for a surf trip. Something I want to do, and soon. Since I've lived my entire life in or near the mountains, I've been exposed to mountain sports. I suspect, however, if I'd grown up near the ocean this may well be a website about surfing, instead of singlespeed mountain biking and adventure above treeline. I've been surfing exactly once, and while I could barely stand up, I was pretty awestruck just being out there in the crashing waves, the mountains of blue, the cold and stark ocean. Perhaps even moreso than mountain biking, surfing immerses you completely in the natural world. I think I'd like the harshness of it, the effort of paddling out into rough waves, the effort for a short moment of glory. The concept of sitting on a beach doesn't do much for me, but to be out there, in the big ocean, on a two inch board, where storms brew. Yeah, that would be nice. Someday.

Tuesday, January 27

I ride my Johnny Rotten day after day, but not today. A crisp eight degrees in Happy Valley with an accompanying 40 mile per hour wind, so heading to the nordic center seemed like a slightly better option. The initial 100 yards of the ski before you head into the woods in is a vast field, and if I'd had a sail on this day I'm positive I would have elevated and probably been deposited somewhere near Nederland, five miles to the east. Interesting conditions today, a mixture between sheet ice, massive wind drifts and surprisingly decent conditions.

I've been doing a lot of classic skiing this year, as opposed to the more common skate skiing technique. I used to classic a ton when I was a little kid living in Norway, but hadn't done it so much since moving to Colorado. Since I have a couple of longer races this spring that demand classic technique, I've been probably spending 75% of my days rehoning this technique. Classic is pretty sweet. It's a myth that it's slower than skating - a good classic skier can go just as fast as a skate skier, and, in the right conditions (shitty) considerably faster. Done poorly, it's basically walking on skis, but once the concept of kick and glide is learned you can derby around the woods for hours on end.

For some reason, most cross over cyclists never bother even learning to classic. This is a shame, because in many ways classic skiing is more like mountain biking than skate skiing is. Like a singletrack trail, classic trails are often a lot narrower, so you're pretty much engulfed by trees, exactly like a narrow singletrack. It's certainly a hard workout...easily as challenging as skate skiing. Classic skiing has a lot of history behind it too. I always think back to the ancient Norwegians, or the guys running the mail runs in the high Rocky Mountains. You can be pretty darned sure they weren't skate skiing.

There are a lot of intricacies to classic skiing, the main one being wax. Have the wrong wax with not enough grip and you be sliding like a Mitsubishi Miyata with bald tires on ice. Too much grip and you'll be able to climb up the side El Capitan, but won't glide for shit. Hit it just right, and your in for a great day. I love going into my shed in the evening and tinkering with different waxes almost as much as I like skiing itself. Wax is an amazing material, that turns an otherwise ridiculously slippery surface into an awesome tool for going anywhere snow covered. So drag those old classic skis out of the closet, the leather boots, the Swix Extra Blue Wax and play in the woods.

Monday night, January 26

Back in 1999, I went to a bike race in Steamboat Springs to ride some trails and work a booth in the mountain bike expo. I also went there with the intention of heading into the Steamboat Springs Moots Cycles factory and buy myself what I thought would be my dream bike - a Moots YBB. Went to the factory, and was thoroughly impressed with everything I saw. Test rode the YBB, and it felt nice, although it was hard to really tell from the five minute spin around the parking lot. Nonetheless, I was ready to plop down my hard earned cash (not a small investment at my meager salary).

And then I saw the Ionic booth. I knew very little about Ionic, except for that they had some team with a bunch of dudes wearing baggy shorts riding for them. They had an orange singlespeed sitting underneath their tent. They said they were from Boise. They told me to take this orange bike for a spin. I'd never ridden a singlespeed bicycle before, but it intrigued me. A year earlier I had read a review in Dirt Rag about a Spot Singlespeed, the review being more about singlespeeding itself than the actual bike. The thing that struck me was how the writer kept referring to the simplicity of singlespeeding, the ability to focus on just the trail and not all that other technological crap. Of course, at the time I had no money to purchase a singlespeed, riddled in debt from an ill advised attempt to make a living selling Blue Green Algae, starting a 'zine called Off Camber and going to bike races every weekend.

Come the Steamboat trip a year later, I finally did have a little money, having worked in my first real job for almost six months! Anyhow, I hopped on the Johnny Rotten, and holy pow, the thing just went! Instant pedal to motion. It really did feel like a big BMX bike, and I have to say I instantly felt a little bit cooler ripping around on my Johnny Rotten. Definitely cooler than on the YBB, which sort of had this Masters racer, rich guy syndrome. I was pretty much sold, but when my girlfriend beamed, "Now that is sweet bike!" it was a done deal.

Got back to Boulder, double checked my banking account and plopped down about a thousand bucks for my first singlespeed. Got the Pimpy Set Up and to top it off, a Big One Inch Rigid Fork from the legendary Fat City Cycles. Since these bikes were coming from a small factory in Boise, Idaho, it took forever to receive it. The Fat City fork took even longer - two or three months I believe.

Once the bike came though, there was no turning back. I rode well into November that year, all on the Johnny Rotten. Some of the journal entries from back then that I wrote seem to ooze with passion for the sport. I was hyper fueled by this new experience. I even did the 24 Hours of Moab solo on it that fall. That was a good year, and a great season.

It's five years later now, and I still ride my Johnny Rotten. It's still my number one bike. Ironically, after struggling to find a geared bike that I liked at all (hello and goodbye to Yeti ARC, Moots Rigor Mootis, Maverick, Independent Fabrication...thank god for ebay!), I finally ended up with Moots YBB. A fine bike, that served me well in this years Montezuma's Revenge and hopefully many more to come, but truth be told, it's been sitting an home unused since the canon went off at that very race five months ago. Not that I haven't ridden - Johnny Rottens probably got 100 days under her since September. Johnny Rotten is the one bike, the one possession I'd choose - with the possible exception of my house - if I had to give everything up. I guess you could say I love that bike.

Not to say I haven't been tempted by other singlespeeds out there over the years. Those Moots Unos sure do look nice, the Spots are stellar and I've been flirting with a Matt Chester for years now (although now he's making only 29ers so I may trade in the cross bike for one of those...and of course keep and ride Johnny). A lot has changed on Johnny. New wheels, tires, drivetrain, pedals, cranks, bottom bracket, grips, bell, brakes and levers. But a few things have survived. The Big One Inch Fork still motors on. I check it every now in then for cracks - it seems impossible something so thin could be so strong - but it goes on, unfazed. Same Chris King headset. Scarily enough, same Titec stem and handlebars, but I might need to change that soon. And the saddle and seatpost have survived the half decade. Not bad all in all.

The biggest repair to Johnny was a replaced top tube, dented badly in an ill advised bike toss at the IGSSC in 2002. Replaced and repainted flawlessly by Rock Lobster. I think I'll be avoiding irreverent bike tosses with her in the future - I simply love the bike too much. She's all orange now (the Fat City fork was originally black) and with the new paint job, looks as good as new. I've ridden a lot of cool places with her: the mountains of Colorado, the rainforests of Washington and British Columbia, the wilds of Alaska and the Yukon, ancient Civil War battlefields in North Carolina, the White Mountains in New Hampshire, down the streets of Manhattan within a few feet of Ground Zero. Ridden through a lot of woods, climbed a heap of hills and built a library of memories and images on that bike.

Like my bike has changed since 1999, I feel like I've changed too. Mostly for the better, some for the worse. I'm a little kinder now, a little wiser and I feel like I'm getting stronger each year. While the calendar says I'm aging, I don't feel like it. I have yet to have a day where I wake up and feel old. I'm sure it will come, but I'm not in any real rush. I also feel like I'm getting a little angrier in some ways. Getting frustrated by injustice at the work place, to nature, to each other. Need to temper that, to replace that anger with goodness.

And what's the same? I still love to ride. I still feel like I'm 17 years old. I'll still choose the mountains, the woods, and a good storm any day over the city, the flatlands and flaccid weather. And I'm still totally stoked to pedal Johnny Rotten, day after day after day.

Monday, January 26

Nothing to say really, so I'm posting some letters we've received in recent days. But first, check out the classifieds section for some hoopty singlespeed and cross get-ups. Also, received some info on the 2004 World Singlespeed Championships. Berlin this year. Sweet.

dear surly,

i was curious as to why you have the logo FATTIES FIT FINE on the frame? this past June i purchased a surly pacer bicycle for my wife. it was the best bike because i was able to build it with the components i thought would best suit her. when my wife read this she was most dissapointed as she assumed i was referring to her slight weight problem. she assumed that I purchsed a FAT GIRLS bike. this all led to a heated argument in which i accidentally told her that it would be best if she dropped a few pounds for health reasons. my wife and i have just separated. after spending the rest of the year sleeping in the living room it was clear that once the holidays were over so was our relationship. i do not blame surly bicycles for our upcoming divorce. surly was simply the match that lit the fire. so could you please tell me why you have FATTIES FIT FINE on the frame?

chad van hauen

Howdy,

Sid from Ann Arbor here. Found your Off-Camber site from a link on TimmyP's site, and I must say, you have a great site.  I envy your being in a great place like Colorado. Here in the Ann Arbor -Detroit area, life is defined by the automobile industry, so, all we have around here is hafl-assed skyscraper wanna-bee buildings and roads, everypiece of available land is either paved or built on!!! One has to go up north to find unspoiled wilderness. Anyways I a glad i found you site, because it has givem me a fresh perspective, and I have decided to start riding again. Take care,

Sid

I occasionally read your blog and I saw from your Jan 1 entry you mention the Leadville Loppet.  I think the "real" race in Leadville is the Leadville Ski 100. Check it out http://www.leadvilleusa.com/ski100.htm enjoy,

david

Sunday, January 25

Running a reverse today. We haven't had any snow in the past four days, but the divide is swirling with clouds, and they're predicting up to six inches this afternoon and tonight. As such, heading to the mountain in the afternoon, and doing A.M. chores. Met the posse and worked on my tele-pining skills yesterday A.M., following the Norsk rednecks around, trying to enhance da skillz. And then a new experience in the afternoon. The local lake in the 80466 district has been rumored to be used by hockey players for pick-up games the past few months. Decided to take a local kids group up there – see if the rumors were true – and play a spirited game of broom ball. It was awesome, and definitely will have to be a gathering of the pilots in the very near future.

Suz and I took the pups on a late night hike up Spencer. Incredible sky, with a sliver of a crescent moon, the Milky Way running south-north and little pin holes of stars layer after layer deep. I can idenetify about half a dozen constellations - the Big and Little Dipper, Orion (the belt), Casiopia (the W) and Pleiades (the Subaru logo). Near the end of the hike, the dogs started pulling frantically, and I could see glowing in the headlight glare, two yellow eyes about 30 yards ahead. A fox, I suspect. Vox. Vox clamantis in Deserto. The fox almost seemed to be baiting us, running ahead 10 yards, and staring back at us, driving the dogs to a near frenzy. This went on for a minute or two, requiring all our strength to prevent the dogs from dragging us off our feet.

It's a bit eerie to see two peering eyes through the black night. I remember a Jack London book – White Fang I believe – where a team of ancient sled doggers were followed by a pack of starving wolves. The old timers huddled around their fire, with a dozen sets of eyes peered at them and their dogs. This went on all night, as they tried to maintain the fire to prevent the wolves from coming any closer. Quality reading indeed.

Oh joy. Apparently there is going to be a Mountain Cup Series mountain bike race at Eldora Ski Area with a cross country race and a downhill in August. Barricade your doors, lock and load your rifles.

Friday, January 23

Alright, today was progress. We had nine attendees on the Intergalctic Friday Single Speed Lunch ride – inluding the Rollinsville Redneck, Paco and a slew of IMBAciles – more than double what we had last week. No trails to ride with the sloppy conditions, but did some fun dirt road climbing north of town. Climbing, chatting and trying to avoid the wind - that pretty much sums up the ride. We've got some work to do, however, as there was way too much lycra showing, not to mention geared bikes, but a vibe is emerging. Now we need the skateboard converts to join us, as well as any new pilots who read this blog. The age of the Intergalactic Pilots is making a comeback.

They're prediciting a full blast return of winter on Sunday with no foreseeable warming trend in site. Time to slap on the various sliding contraption and enjoy the wintertime singletrack fix.

Wednesday, January 21

Winter made a cameo in the 80466 hood yesterday, so this morning was spent gliding on skis through the trees. A sunrise session with tremendous conditions. Now if we could just keep this up until April 1, we'll be all set.

Got forwarded a couple incredible stories that make our little commutes into work seem fairly humble. The first one is about a group of cyclists who chose to ride off road from Valdez, Alaska to Fairbanks in the winter of 1906. That's pretty phenomenal in its own right, but then I read the story about a couple modern day cyclists attempting to ride the legendary Yukon Quest Trail. This one is downright scary. Basically, they rode in temperatures as low as 65 below zero, where if you stop for any amount of time, you'll likely die. You might have do a free registration on this site, but it's worth it.

Monday, January 19

Checking my email this evening, I'm being riddled by emails from my co-workers, announcing press releases, sponsorships, and other bike advocacy related stuff. All well and good, but jeez folks, it's a day off!!! Live a little. Ride your bike, play in the mountains. It's that old saying about the man on his death bed NEVER EVER wishing he spent more time in the office, especially on a perfectly good holiday like Martin Luther King Day. Ah well.

After a morning of sliding around on snow with the consistency of concrete, took the cue from Timmy yesterday and decided to go on a ride on the flat lands this afternoon. Two factors pushed me over the edge here, beyond just a hankering to ride singletrack. First, I had the company car for the weekend with a significantly better sound system than my 1987 Toyota truck. Second, my musical choices have been stale of late. The same old crap over and over. Used this driving opportunity to delve into the old vault and dig through some of the music of my younger days. The choices were as follows: Nirvana Insecticide. Nine Inch Nails. Metallica Master of Puppets. Tool. A few old school trance albums and a gem I found hidden in the crevices, Bjork Telegram. Heck, if you have to drive, you definitely need good tunes.

Rode the Dakota Ridge, Matthew Winters Trail system down in Golden. This is always a treat for me, since I rarely get down to this neck of the woods, save a few times in the winter. Dakota Ridge (or is it Lakota Ridge?) is pure fun, super technical and slick rocky. Sort of like a chess match. Felt surprisingly coordinated for my first technical ride in four months or so. I've had some beat downs on this trail in the past, but thankfully, today was not one of them. After so many years of riding Jasmine Rotten, we've developed a good relationship, where I basically know every thing she'll do, and visa versa. A good trail for a single speed, requiring subtle speed and a definite back shift in weight.

Onto Matthew Winters where I was stoked to clean a tough five minute, loose switch backy climb for my first time ever on a single speed. Perhaps a good omen for the new year? It certainly was pretty day, save the orange smog cloud hovering over Denver. Kind of scary that we breath that crap. All in all a stellar three day weekend. Have to say that if a presidential candidate ran on the platform that everyone in the U.S. should just work four day weeks, they'd certainly have my vote.

Oooh, high excitement. Digging through the CD vault I found THREE CD'S LOADED WITH MP3's of Timmy music that I have not yet downloaded. That'll certainly make the iPod hum for the next few cold commutes down the hill and endless laps around Phoebe Snow.

Sunday, January 18

A trend is emerging here in the Colorado high country. For the past few years, January has been surprisingly mild, almost drought like. This year is no exception. It's been many days since we've had significant cloud cover, and have not seen snowfall in almost two weeks. Fortuantely, the sun is low in the sky, so the snow is holding up halfway decent, although it has gotten quite crusty on the surface. This trend used to bum me out, but if this year holds to the pattern of the last few, February, March, April and even May will deliver the goods.

Yesterday, ventured into my backyard to the west, Indian Peaks Wilderness. Truth be told, I rarely go here, simply because I'd rather not see any other people. A silly reason, actually. Once you get a few miles from the trailhead, there basically are no people, and the beauty of this place is immense. Yesterday, the girlfriend and I went for a little touring XC ski. The loose goal was to make our way to Devils Thumb Lake, but slow conditions and a lazy start forced us to turn around a bit early. No matter. The day was bluebird, and we made it close to treeline. I'm trying to observe the world in the micro, as opposed to the traditional big scenic views of the divide in such. Looking more closely at the texture of rocks, of bark, of the footprints in the snow.

A funny episode last night. Went to see Lord of the Rings, Return of the Kings at the local Nederland movie theater. This theater, or more appropriately, the crowd that ventures to these movies is worth mentioning. If you've even seen that show Northern Exposure, you'll get an idea of what the typical crowd is like. Eclectic to be sure. You've got your tie-die wearing hippies, your Gore-Tex wearing tele skiers, the older backwoods Gilpin County slightly stained clothes wearing folks, and then you've got your high school kids, who always sit in the back corner of the theater. In our little community, the weekend movies pretty much are the areas evening entertainment. It's affordable too - popcorn's a mere buck.

Anyhow, the movie began, and as is often the case, the high school/middle school kids were being obnoxious. Laughing exceptionally loud, and just making all around stupid comments. No big deal really. Kids will be kids, and always eases up after the first fifteen minutes or so. The thing was, it didn't ease up. It was a weird situation. Basically, the 250 other people in the crowd kept shooting the kids nasty looks, but nobody really knew what to do. People were pissed, but it seemed sort of futile to have some middle aged dad, in a nasally voice, tell the kids to, umm, please quiet down a bit.

To be honest, I could care less what people do in a movie theater., or anywhere else for that matter, as long as it doesn't effect everyone else around them. Want to make out with your 13 year old girlfriend for three straight hours? Be my guest. Decide you're going to smuggle in a bottle of Vodka and down it until you've alcohol poisoning? Hell if I care. Laugh like a retard and make jackass comments just to be a bastard and disturb everyone else's experience. That's a problem. Probably the same reason I hate motos. Basically, you have to hear and smell the damned things even if they are not in sight.

About an hour into the movie, the same shit was going on, and during a particularly poignant moment of the movie some stupid girl whined how the movie was too long, definitely loud enough for the entire theater. to hear. For some reason, at that point I lost it. I turned around, and told the kids, in exact terms, "Shut the Fuck Up. Seriously, Shut the Fuck up of get the Fuck Out of here." DEAD SILENCE for about three seconds. Then, a chorus of "Yeah, shut up" from probably twenty other people. It was pretty sweet to say the least. The kids didn't make a peep the rest of the movie. I was sort of shocked by the effectiveness of it all. Maybe they were surprised someone would dare say fuck to them three times in just 16 words, or maybe it was because I was dressed like skater kid and not some dad, but for whatever reason it worked like a charm.

It is a great movie, but quite long, so I ended up sleeping in this morning. Rallied for a brief snowboard session at Helldora this afternoon, on what I figured would be iced over crust. Found a surprising gem - right side Psychopath had been freshly snow gunned the night before. A few rocks here and there, making a little P-Tex patch work necessary tonight. Tomorrow, the trifecta awaits - boarding, tele-flogging and a off pavement BICICUL ride on some new terrain in the Golden area tomorrow afternoon.

Friday, January 16

Man, if you were not there for the first Intergalactic FTS Friday Lunch Ride of 2004, you missed out sooooo badly! A massive group of FOUR PEOPLE, including the Rollinsville Rednecks and the Intergalactic Pilot himself attended the inaugural event – and make no mistake about it...this indeed was an event. Seriously, it was good to get out with friends and into the hills for a bit, and we'll be doing it every Friday at noon from here on out. The meeting place is Eben G Fine Park (basically at the end of the Boulder Bike Path before it enters the Canyon). Of course, singlespeeds and costumes are encouraged. We'll expect double attendance next week from all you slacking pilots out there. As an added bonus, staffers from a major nonprofit mountain bike organization will be in attendance, so if you'd like to give them a face-to-face earful about a lack of trails in your area, this is the time to do it.

Had the distinct pleasure of riding to work this morning with my girlfriend, on what was one of her first Happy Valley to Rock commutes ever. I think I scared her thoroughly about the potential cold, because she overheated about 15 minutes into the ride. However, while I was freezing my butt of on the no-motion decent, she was toasty warm, so I think she got the better end of the trade off. Altogether a great time though, and the sky was phenomenal this morning - the classic wave after wave of salmon colored hew.

Thursday, January 15

Toes thawing out after a surprisingly brisk commute in. Quicker than normal, powered by a 32x16 gear ratio - perfect for the climbs and flats, allowing for a more consistent flow than my normal mountain trail gearing. A strange vibe on the road today. While cars are always present on this dirt road commute, today they seemed a bit more aggressive. Angrier. I didn't get buzzed, but the drivers faces seemed agitated, and in a way, sort of sad. A bad place to be at 7:30 in the morning. The morning bicycle commute for me is a time for relaxed exercise, a time to contemplate, to dream a little bit, to be completely happy and at peace. So while a car does provide a quicker and often more comfortable way to work, those minor benefits seem like a poor trade off in the long run. So leave your keys at home, and ride your bike to work tomorrow...and every day after.

Wednesday, January 14

The further you go out there, the harder it is to come back. After spending the past few extremely full days at 11,500 feet plus, the thought of sitting in an office chair, and answering thousands of emails is a struggle. As much as I enjoy my job, it's can't compete with wide open powder fields, blue bird skies and the feeling of absolute content after playing in the high country all day. From Monday to today, myself and seven other coworkers/friends called Fowler Hilliard 10th Mountain Division Hut home. An amazing two-story log cabin in an even more spectacular setting, located on a ridgeline above a massive wide open slope.

Day one was spent skinning up to the hut, a five mile long slog that at times was so steep you began to question whether or not the skins would even hold. Loaded down with a pack, I felt a bit like those tenth mountain division soldiers, although admittedly my 50 pound pack was no comparison to the "90-pound" rucksack they used to haul up the hills. After arriving at the hut, spent the evening sampling the bowl, making turns. Seeing as I have zero backcountry tele turn skills, I spent the days reliving my high school days, faking alpine turns on a tele setup. Perhaps not the most aesthetically pleasing way to go about it, but it worked, especially given the variable powder to crust to mush conditions.

Day two was a series of hikes up and down various bowls. Great snow to be had on what felt like a nonstop endurance day. The group inertia was nonstop go, so we basically skied and hiked until dark. Today we headed home, but not before a extremely challenging decent down a crusty sun-swept slope with a full pack and an exhilarating nordic style skate back to the vehicles. A few snapshots of the trip are available here.

Good times to be had for sure, and certainly motivation for more adventures to come. Driving home with Meriweather and gazing to the west, the Indian Parks beckoned. New adventures, new places to see. For now, a morning ride into work will have to suffice. Off to scrap the 32x18 gearing for something with a bit more oomph.

Saturday, January 10

A quality couple of days. Yesterday, completed my first commute in of 2004. Nothing spectacular, just the standard route in – snow's covering the woods quite nicely – but it felt just awesome to be out there, pedaling along, day dreaming, taking in the sites. I love skiing, but mountain biking is in my soul. Perhaps if it were possible to ski right into work, this would be different, but I love the emotional practicality of getting on my bike in Happy Valley, and ending up two hours later - give or take half an hour - in Boulder, literally riding from the first ridge of the Continental Divide, which surrounds my home, across the folds of the foothills, and ending right at the spot where the Great Plains begin. A blood red salmon dawn sky yesterday morning highlighted the ride. And no Timmy, you certainly did not ruin my day. Always a joy to see a friend. My mind was just elsewhere - hence the surprise.

Today, the Rollinsville Rednecks, Meriweather and myself headed to Nebraska Hill, near Moffat Tunnel, to practice out tele skills and, more importantly, avalanche knowledge. On both counts, I claim next to zero ability or knowledge, so it was a particularly useful day. Learned some rudimentary skills of how to survive the downhills - borrowing heavily from ancient Alpine skiing technique learned long ago - and practiced finding beacons and building pits. A group of us are heading on a hut trip outside Leadville, Colorado next week, so these are good skills to have. Today was something of a test run, seeing what equipment worked and what didn't. After a morning of turns at Eldora tomorrow AM, the rest of the day will be spent shoring up weak links in equipment for this hut trip.

Thursday, January 8

Nordic skied for the third straight day up at Eldora. Trying to get in race shape, so spent the morning iPoded in, doing exceptionally painful intervals at 9,500 feet above sea level, flying at times and on the verge of blowing at others. I like the routine though - it makes the hour pass and keeps things interesting. It's exceptional, when you're skiing fast, to look off to the side and see the trees blur by. The trails are in stellar shape - fast and well covered.

Off into the night - the first ride of the year awaits tomorrow morning!

Wednesday, January 7

Daydream image one. 11,256 feet above sea level. Wide open bowl, above treeline, which lies a thousand vertical feet down. Early morning, 13 degrees, zero wind, perfect sky with a maroonish hew. Surrounded by the god damned Rocky Mountains. Board strapped on. Three friends. 2 feet of white fluff on top, nobody in sight but the birds, the sky. Wide open bowl for five minutes, turning into lightly gladed chutes and alleys. But that can wait. For now, we breathe in the thin air, and savor it.

Daydream image two. 4,952 feet above sea level. Everything is red, or perhaps orange. Somewhere in between. 67 degrees, a light breeze, in that magical hour before night dominates day. The desert. A rare, light rain has just fallen, turning the sky into a crazy quagmire of color. Smells of Juniper, Yucca everywhere. The vibrant desert. A few shrub trees, a river running thousands of feet below. Serene but not dead. A trail lies in front, winding over bluffs and outcroppings, into the horizon. 18 inches wide. The breeze cools the body, wicks off the baggy shorts, the loose jersey. Same three friends. Clipped in, ready to ride. But that too can wait. Now is the time to feel the re-emerging March sun, the cool mist of the rain, the breeze from the west.

Saturday, January 3

Happy Valley has transformed into a winter wonderland the past 72 hours, as the snow keeps coming down. Light, but consistent, adding up to a little over a foot. Today was a full on type A day at the mountain, as the crowds lined up for the hole shot for the first run. Arrived in line at 8 a.m., a good half hour before opening time, luckily at the head of the pack. It was pretty comical in the line, as folks were actually getting fairly competitive trying to snake their way to the front. A fist fight nearly broke out behind us. Evidently, there are no friends on a powder day. One of these days I'm going to get up bright and early, skin up Corona, hang out up top, and just as folks are cresting the hill salivating over first tracks, I'll drop in. A cruel tease.

Anyhow, today was a quality day. While the initial chaos on Corona yielded the standard stellar first two runs followed by a tracked out mess, we found a gem later in the day on Psychopath. Bottomless powder, knee deep in places. There wasn't much of a base, but on a snowboard it didn't matter so much since the float is a bit better. I enjoy these days at the hill, but I don't like the competitiveness, the sheer quantity of people on the trails. I'll be happier when more snow makes the hidden lines in the woods accessible.

After a good two hour nap this afternoon, went classic nordic skiing at the Eldora nordic center. Just after the closing bell, so the trails were deserted. Now this was enjoyable - found a sweetly tracked trail that was narrow and rolling, sort of like a singletrack blanketed in white. Three to four inches clings to the trees, and the woods are silent, save the pitter patter of flakes falling on your jacket.

Took a walk tonight with the dogs through Happy Valley. A spectacular environment, as the moon illuminated a white blanketed Spencer Mountain to the south, beneath the belt of Orion, Mineral Mountains white cliffs shimmering to the north, and the Continental Divide, shrouded in mist, looming to the west. Sub zero temperatures tonight at the best place on earth.

Friday, January 2

Today we were storm riders, elvish creatures dancing down the side of the mountain while the tempest raged. Snow falling at an inch an hour, each inch building the excitement of the day, and the anticipation of the future. Today was a beautiful day, turning easily and deep – save the occasional death ice beneath the 6-10 inches of fresh snow - gliding along the edge of the woods, and occasionally in the woods. Picking out lines not yet hit, staying a move or two ahead of the crowds. That's the key really. Get up early, get the first chair, and stay ahead of the pack.

The potential is what happens if this storm continues. New terrain opens, Salto, West Ridge, Moose. Deeper yet, the woods become negotiable – tentatively at first while the shrapnel is near, less so as the snow continues to mount. 100 years ago, a deepening snow pack meant isolation, fear and possibly even cannibalism. For us, snow equals sheer childlike joy and further immersion into our winter time deep woods fix.

Thursday, January 1

Kicked in the new year today with a cross country ski race at Helldora. 10 kilometers of a rude awakening, but managed to hold on for a victory in my age class – consisting of three people. Nordic racing is one of those activities where you can't really fake it, unlike ultra bike racing where if you at least keep pedaling, and moving, you'll be ok. In ski racing, if you blow up or bonk, you very quickly move backwards. Probably will do a handful of longer races this winter – the Alley Loop Marathon is always a good time, and the new Leadville Loppet look intriguing as well.

2004 has kicked in, and I really have not made any resolutions yet. But I suppose I'll try for a few here. First, more adventure in 2004. More trips to the mountains and desert. More going to places I've never been before. More music and dancing. More time for family, pets and friends. Live young. Catch the first chair as often as possible, and be riding my bike in as many sunsets as can be. That'll do for now.

Good night. A storm is moving in from the Pacific.