Boyhood Dreams, Manhood Responsibilities

How does one judge when they leave the realm of childhood and plunge head long into adulthood? Job? Parenthood? Owning a home?

I’ve done the three of those and there are still times I find myself in situations saying, “What the hell do I know, I’m just a kid?”

For all of my looking I have not found the magic yardstick or age where Creskin the Magician poofs into existence and says “Congratulations, you are now an adult. Go forth!”
I have however found one measure of at least feeling grown up.

Choices.

Daily one is faced with choices that he or she must make. Normally the choices made can reflect whether you are feeding the child inside or stepping on the flagstones of adulthood keeping you out of the mud and muck of ignorant decisions.

Most of these are easy choices, at least for some. The tough ones come when they are long burning childhood ambitions. The kind of choices that bring out the giddy kid and the realist adult to battle it out like the angel and devil sitting on your shoulder. We all have tick lists, or bucket lists, or life lists, whatever you chose to call them. All of us want to accomplish the items on those lists. Sometimes, the chance to check off some of those items can come at opportune times, where it seems like it is meant to happen. Others produce themselves at inopportune times, which is where the crucial decisions come into play. Do you act impulsively, or do you make the “adult” decision? What makes that decision even harder, is when the opportunity presents itself, and it is the last opportunity you will get.

The funny thing about life lists, bucket lists, and tick lists is that they are “user specific”. What is on my tick list, isn’t necessarily what is on your tick list. Some of the things on my tick list, might make people look at me as if I were a crazy person, and vice versa. So when one struggles with the aforementioned decision, it can make them appear as a weepy, wistful, nostalgic child. Again, what is on my list is mine, and your list is yours. If someone has to ask you “Why?” about something on your list, they do not understand, and even explaining it to them will not make them understand.

The cool thing about adulthood, is that one learns that hearing about ones adventures can be almost as good as being there, especially when it relates to a common interest, and even a common tick list item. Seeing one’s face that has checked off a mark on their tick list, can bring immense joy to others.

Temporarily pacifying the giddy impulsive child inside.

Resolutions

Every year as we approach the New Year you hear people everywhere talk about New Year’s Resolutions. What they want to change, what they want to keep doing, what they want to do better, what they want to quit, loose, or gain.

I’ve never been one to make any New Year’s Resolutions, but I feel this year I should. Maybe it’s my change of mind came at this particular time and if I had thought of this in Mid May, it would just be a resolution. But, here goes.

1. Be a better father. I don’t feel like I’ve spent much time, let alone quality time with either of my children, and that, I intend to change.

2. Promote within my career. I often feel that if I was working for any “normal” type of company that by now I would probably be making some serious bucks. Given my particular set of skills that I have acquired over my 11 years at my job, I am sort of a Jack of all Trades, a Go to Guy. With firearms, forensics, software, and a long list of other skills, I should be the man. However, civil service jobs don’t quite work in that manner. It’s high time I made the money that I should be. So this year, I will hit the books and study to earn some stripes.

3. Climb a 14,000 foot peak. Don’t ask, don’t question, it won’t change my mind.

4. Get better at being the awesome husband that I already am. It’s true, it’s all true.

5. Spirituality.

I ask you to share some of your New Year’s Resolutions here, and maybe give some pointers on how to obtain mine.

Funny Looks

Adventure. You like it or you don’t.

Being inspired by pictures and videos of amazing places and feats, you either are, or you are not.

If you are lucky enough to see something that makes your pulse quicken, your eyes glisten with an emotional tear, and has you uttering phrases such as, “If I could only…..” or has you digging in your planner to set a date, congratulations.

My tick list has grown so long, I forgot what the first thing I put on it was. If I only had the time or ability to do it all.

If you are not one of the lucky ones, the adventuresome or wistful romantic for out of doors craziness, I’m sorry.

But the next time you see me babbling about climbing, riding and insane route or distance, or going to some remote corner of BFE and No-where, leave me be. Because your machismo comments of “You’re stupid!” “That’s crazy!” and “WHY.” Only tell me one thing.

You don’t get it. You never have, and you never will. And for that, I pity you.

So close

As I have said a couple of times in the past, this year has not been kind to my riding needs.

Yesterday, while my lovely wife went to the local craft show with her mother, I diligently went around the house dusting, vacuuming, doing laundry and the likes. That afternoon I mowed the front lawn and we had a nice visit from my parents.

So that afternoon, I thought to myself, "I think I'll go for a morning mountain bike ride in the Palo Duro Canyon tomorrow morning."

At first I thought I would go alone, then decided to call my brother-in-law Tim to go with me. He is always up for some MTB action, and is a good riding partner with minimal whining and good stamina, as to insure a good, long, hard ride. After talking to him, we decided to leave the house around 8:30am.

This morning he showed up right on time and we began to load our stuff in the brisk fall morning air. Trying to force myself to take a little more leisurely pace this morning, I clothed myself in some hippie-esque cut off cargo shorts, and older MTB jersey and my arm warmers. We lit out from the house only stopping for some Gatorade and then made our way down to the canyon. The morning was perfectly still and crisp, perfect for a ride. As we wound down the canyon road, the morning sun hit the west wall of the canyon sparking brilliant reds, yellows and purples, with the fall vegetation high lighting it in greens and browns.

I thought how neat it was that such a treasure lay a mere 30 minutes drive from me.

We arrived at the trail head and began to suit up for the ride, donning helmets, gloves, checking air pressure, and slinging our Camelbaks across our shoulders. After double checking everything, we set off on a trail the we seldom ride, Capitol Peak.

It took hardly any pedal strokes at all for me to find my cadence and get comfortable, the first couple of rocky sections felt strong and I said to myself, "This is gonna be a good ride."

Then, as soon as it started, I hear Tim hollar, "WE'RE DONE!"

What, how, WHAT!??!?

I turned around and rode back to him to find his rear derailleur shredded from his frame. He had bounced if off of a rock and broken the hanger. Frustrated, he picked up his bike and headed back to the trail head. I slowly and sadly rode behind him until we made it to the road and I went back to get the car, pulled it around and we loaded up and drove home.

30 minuted there, 30 minutes home and a total of 8 minutes and 31 seconds of riding.

Some things never change.

The Recharge

"Keep close to Nature's heart... and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.” John Muir

With the trip planned and all essentials acquired, it was time to pack for the trip to the Pecos Wilderness with the Boy Scouts. Much attention was paid in getting the balance of the pack just right, and making sure everything was tucked neatly inside of the pack save for items needed rapidly or in an emergency. Once finished except for the weight of two 32 ounce Nalgene bottles, the pack weighed around 30 pounds.

We loaded up on the bus Friday around 6:00pm and pointed it Westerly for the Texas New Mexico state line. A familiar stench hit my nostrils as the smell of sweaty adolescence that had collected in the very soul of the bus from hundreds of camping trips crept out as we traveled. The sun beaming through windshield of the bus warmed me as the terrain gradually changed from plains to the mesa covered land of eastern New Mexico. As we rolled on through the dusk I could hear the boys in the back of the bus in a constant chatter as various jokes and games were played out. Some of the men were working with the younger boys on merit badges and advancement, hoping to move them from scouts to tenderfoots. Having secured a spot at the very front of the bus, I stretched my legs out and pondered the next day’s hike, making mental notes of the boys that would be hiking with us and how each would need to be coached or prodded up the mountain. Running through the gear I had packed in my head, making sure I had everything I needed, not that I could do anything about it now, but non-the-less still running system checks.

As the sun sank behind the horizon and made way for the night, I began to look forward to camping in the cool mountain air and waking up the following morning to find what wonder of a place we had journeyed to. There is something mystical about getting to a new place in the cover of night, only to wake up and behold the beauty you have happened upon, and this would be no different.

Close to midnight, after snaking our way up a winding mountain road for about 45 minutes to Cowles, NM, we parked at our campsite, unloaded and began to set up camp. The temp had dropped significantly, and I was digging for fleece and my beanie. Chase and I set up my two man backpacking tent and buried ourselves in our sleeping bags. Various snoring, voices, hacking and coughing began as everyone settled in for the night. Some of the boys to excited to sleep, some of the men too tired to care, some, just purging toxic city air from their lungs as the cool crisp mountain air took its place.

Around 6am I woke to one of the men gather and splitting wood the best that he could for a fire. Through the tent fly, I could tell that some light was beginning to illuminate the alien place I had found myself in. Quietly digging as not to disturb my tent mate, I found some layers of clothing to don as I headed out of the tent. Having entered this place witnessing only shadows of mountains and pine, the day revealed that we were nestled in a beautiful valley with the Pecos River flowing about 60 feet from our camp. To the north was the shoulder of the mountain we would be hiking up today. The smell of juniper and pine mixed nicely with the campfire now in its infancy, bringing me to a primitive place of comfort. Breathing deeply, I could feel any tension in my muscles melt away.

With everyone else rousing and breaking down their gear for the hike to come, the cooks dove into cooking breakfast and preparing meals for the hikers. Having packed my own dinner and breakfast for the coming night and morning, I opted only to snag a lunch from them. Soon the breakfast bell rang and I found myself scooping into the biggest bowl of oatmeal I had ever seen, but with the cranberries and raisins mixed in, it was also one of the best. After finishing of the colossal culinary camping cuisine, I wished my tent a bed were still set up for a nap. But alas, we were moments from setting out for Lake Stewart.

We set off for Lake Stewart in waves. Some of the faster hikers set out first, with the rest straggling behind. Occasionally we would take breaks for some of the boys, (but mostly for most of the men) to catch their breath and take a pull from their water bottles. Some of the times the break was a photo op as the glory of the valley was unhindered by tree limbs. As the trail wove in and out of forest, we could catch glimpses of mountain tops in the distance, the lush green valley below, and vast stretches of blue sky. Except for my camera, I felt a million miles from anything. Simply me, my pack, and friends.

We came to the lower lake at around 2:30pm, quickly unclipped the weight of our packs from our shoulders and trotted to the edge of the lake. It is a strange feeling after walking for hours with 30 extra pounds strapped to your shoulders to suddenly have it removed. One walks with a short of moon manish gimpy gait that feels as awkward as it has to look.

Group by group the others strolled into camp, displaying the same urgency to ditch their packs and rest their feet. Stewart Lake was actually about a 1/8 of a mile down the trail, some of us went up to have a look, an amazingly beautiful look.


One by one we set up and organized our camp. Chase’s son and I went up to Lake Stewart and began to filter water for everyone. Camp stoves were set up and everyone found a cozy place just had a rest. Funny moments from the hike were relayed to those that were in a different group. As the evening progressed, backpacking stoves were fired up, water was boiled and meals began to be prepared. Chase and I split the Ramen Noodle that I had brought and the Annie’s Lentil soup that he had brought. With the two mixed together, it was a near heavenly dinner.

The boys built a campfire and stories, songs and skits ensued. Laughs were shared and fun was had by all. The toll of the hike began to show as one by one we slipped off into our tents and fell into slumber. During the night I could hear the breeze move through the pine. An owl made its presence known during the night as his voice echoed through the forest. The moon, nearly full emitted an ethereal glow as it ran through the branches of the pines scattering on the forest floor. Breathing in the cool night air in that atmosphere only relaxed me more, and I was saddened that my time there would be short lived as we had to head back down to base camp first thing in the morning.

The sun rose and once again we ran through the paces of breaking camp, cooking our breakfast, brewing some coffee and getting ready to head down the mountain. The valley was even more beautiful in the early morning light. I was glad to be headed back to my home and family, but sad to leave such a wonderful place after spending such little time there.

So after a long last half of the summer breaking myself for the J.O.B., all of my riding was scrapped, preparations for racing were scrapped, and my first fourteener summit project was trashed. (Rob and Court, you have no idea how much I envy you! ;-) )
All is not lost however, for next weekend I will embark on a backcountry hiking excursion with our Boy Scout troop.
We’ll be heading for the Pecos Wilderness near Santa Fe, NM, and an overnight camp around 10,500 feet next to Lake Stewart, nestled quietly under Santa Fe Baldy, standing 12,632 feet above sea level. To get to the lake, a brisk 6 mile hike gaining 2500 feet of elevation. What fun, what fun.

So here’s the magic act.

All of this:

Needs to fit in this:

And then be strapped to this:

And when I reach Stewart Lake, I'll get to chill in these!!!

I am extremely looking forward to a weekend of breathing in the warm scent of pine and juniper blown around by the fresh mountain air. Along with just sitting by an alpine lake and slowing down.

More to come.

The Teenage 30 Something

It’s midnight.

More accurately, it’s Thursday at midnight and I have to be at work tomorrow. So where is this 32 year old father of two? He’s playing in the street, lit by only a solitary drop light pulling juice from three extension cords strung out like an wiry orange snake searching the concrete driveway, illuminating a set of 2x4’s. The 2x4’s are being used as benchmarks for the bunny hop competition my brother-in-law Tim and I are holding. For those not in the know, a bunny hop is when you take a bicycle and without the aid of a ramp, get both tires off of the ground in an attempt to clear an obstacle using only your own self generated force.

I am still not sure what led us to this competition, and why it went on so long. What I do know is that it’s midnight, I’m 32, and I’m having a bunny hop competition. Fun, fun.

We went for both distance and height while riding a 1,000,000 lb. Beast of a Mongoose full suspension mountain bike. Nothing like the lithe Felt RXC I’m used to riding. Oh and I was in flip flops! Danger of losing a toe was imminent. Oh and just so you know; I won.

Enjoy.