Looking for an Adventure

Over Thanksgiving last month I pulled out a story that had moved to the back of my repertoire. I don't know how that happened as it is one of my favorites. I've told a ton of stories about my livin' out west and how it inspires me in the middle west. Well my first adventure in the Midwest came long before my western days and has more ties to Florida than anywhere else. I remember it being spring however it could have been fall and a few years after the turn of the century. I was at home in the south suburbs of Chicago after my Thursday night class at the local community college. Months earlier I was living in Florida, where it was spring break every night and I was feeling pretty lame about to turn in at 9pm. Out of the blue I received call that took my night on a most memorable tangent. My Hoosier friend Jeremy, a buddy from my Florida days had driven up with another guy to the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. I met them at I-65 and I-80 where we hung out at a Denny's for a few hours and decided to "make a night of it". After driving back to the burbs to get my sleeping bag we drove back to the dunes and parked on a 2 lane highway just outside of Gary. Parking near the visitor's center would have been a dead give away as to our presence and getting caught would have meant a night in the clink for sure. We grabbed our gear and flashlights and headed in to the forest. Jeremy was wearing a headlamp and I had never seen one before. Every time his head would move it looked like a spotlight piercing thorough the darkness. As we hiked we spooked deer and other nocturnal creatures. To this day I've never seen a deer leap as high or move as fast. The elevation began to increase, the terrain transformed from dirt to sand. The forest canopy disappeared as we came to the crest of the dune. The wind off of the lake howled as the waves crashed down below at the beach. By now the time was around 3am so we prepared for the cold in the coming hours before sunrise. The three of us retreated into our bags that would slowly slide down the dune at different rates throughout the night. We appeared out of our bags to the majestic site of the sun creeping above a cooling tower for a local power plant to the east and a golden hue on the Inland Steel smoke stack to the west.


OK imagine the scars of industry aren't there....now its majestic. With our bed rolls up we headed back to Route 12 to see if our vehicles had been towed in the night. They were not and just like that our adventure was over. Jeremy and his friend headed south to catch a class at noon at IU in Bloomington. I headed home with no classes on Friday to reflect on what three guys starved for adventure could accomplish.

Turkey in the Desert

The view from the campsite

My friends out west invited me to come along for a bit of a Thanksgiving tradition they've had going for the past 4 years or so. Hiking in the high desert of Utah. This also comes along with some cold weather camping. I forgot how much I enjoy off season camping. The fire is a necessity not just entertainment. Sleep is work and the predawn coffee can never be too hot. I've had cold summer nights out in the open but not since my teenage years have I intentionally crawled into a seeping bag for a night of below freezing temps. It makes you earn the experience. Of course if I hadn't borrowed a 15 degree bag my musings might have been a different story. There's a saying "there is no bad weather, only bad clothing" and I'll put a whole bunch of stock in that. The earned experience was one that I won't soon forget. Mostly due to the people it was shared with, even though the setting was second to none. I have yet to meet an Iowan I didn't like. This trip was no different. 4 top notch boys from Iowa, a gentleman born in Japan but seems to have grown up all over the States, and one of the coolest girls I've met who is super sweet and from Colorful Colorado. The seven of us set out on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving to Canyonlands National Park just south of Moab, Utah. We pulled in to the best campsite the Needles District had to offer. After listening to Alice's Restaurant on Thanksgiving day we set out on a mild hike to Confluence Overlook. We got back early enough to start on our own Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat, complete with a 12 pound turkey cooked in a cast iron Dutch Oven pot with all the fixins'.
On Friday 4 of us set out to climb a desert tower called South Sixshooter however time was not on our side so after some bouldering and backseat driving on for the climbers ahead of us we bailed as not to hike out in the cold darkness. The second night in a row I ate better in the great outdoors than I do in my apartment. Our final hike was Saturday and about 15 miles out to Chesler Park. Our last night at camp was spent burning all the wood and exchanging stories of our misadventures, with great hilarity I'll add.

The crew

Cryptobiotic Soil. Don't bust the crust, Don't hurt the dirt.

I believe this is Confluence Overlook

Sunset over the Needles

Magic Hour

Mushroom Tops

Balancing Rocks

Sunrise the morning we hit the road for home.

It was a damn fine vacation with some excellent travel mates. I'm glad I didn't miss it this year. Being Thanksgiving and all I'd like to say thanks for the invite and picking an Illinoian up and dropping off him off at the airport over the busiest travel weekend of the year. Thanks guys.

National Parks

Thomas Cole: A Distant View of Niagara Falls

The latest Ken Burns documentary is airing on PBS this week (all the past episodes are viewable at pbs.org). The 5th episode is on tonight and I have been glued to my TV set all week. I am amazed and impressed that the unifying argument for creating such areas of the country was "we don't want another Niagara Falls". This was code for anti commercialism and private companies preying on tourists. This is made evident in Thomas Cole's Distant View of Niagara Falls from 1830 (on view at the Art Institute of Chicago: American galleries). He created this painting because as early as 1830 the view was already ruined and wanted to view it as the natives did. The Midwest is really a blessing and a curse as far as the parks are concerned. While located at the center of the country we are relatively close to all of them however none are in our backyard. There are really only 2 National Parks in the Midwest, Isle Royal and Mammoth Cave. Mammoth Cave being the closest at 6hrs from Chicago and Isle Royal is closer to Canada in the middle of Lake Superior. I consider myself to be well traveled I have been to every region of the lower 48 and Alaska along with 4 of the 7 continents. In my adult life I have only been to 2 of our national parks Y0smite and Denali. However watching this series I feel as though I know all of these parks I've never been to. Last nights episode explained why. There was a chapter called Going Home that stated that these places are where we are from, we live in cities but we came from the wilderness so visiting the parks is like going home. A philosophy that maybe a stretch for some. I refer to Shawnee National Forest as my happy place and while climbing is great, the forest speaks to me on a higher level. Last nights episode also talked about collecting parks. A subject of conflict for me. There is an urge to see these places and see them while young. My first National Park was Denali in Alaska. Candidly speaking to a Ranger I was enthusiastically welcomed and told to enjoy this place "while your young". A closer look around revealed a sea of retirees. At the age of 23 I had a good head start that came to a screeching halt when I returned to the Midwest. The day I left Denver for Chicago, 4 years ago this month, my friends invited me on a trip to Moab I was literally at a crossroads. Had west been the choice versus east many more National Parks would likely have been in my future. This makes the hidden gems of the Midwest all the more pertinent. As an Illinois resident I can't help but feel the National Park Service failed my state. As we were busy saving so many majestic places from logging and private investors we let the namesake of my state disappear. Why did the prairie not have an advocate from the plow? Well at least we saved the remaining Indiana Dunes from the steel mills. I hope to see more of my National Parks but for right now the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore will have to do.

Jackson Falls

My happy place was featured in Climbing Magazine this month. Check it out.

Summer Update

Lets talk about summer. All over the country students are boring their teachers with stories of their summer vacation, why should it stop at grammar school. As I wrote in May I had big plans for summer time. I think I did pretty good. The Midwest Mountain Bike Fest was a success the night ride got rained out and has yet to be rescheduled. I traded the unsupported bike trip of the dunes for human interaction and mountain biking in Central Il. Along with that trip came the Century Ride. Toss in some surprises like white water rafting on the Menomiee River on the Upper Peninsula/Wisconsin border, tons of baseball, Lollapolooza and climbing and I'll say I did summer right.

Vincent is part of the bicycle Co-Op in Urbana and he gave me a tour while I was pretending to be a grad student in July. The shop is in the old mail room of a mall in town you can see what used to be the mail shoot.

Vince wrenchin'

We hit up the MTB trails in Kickapoo State Park on the day of Mark Buehrle's perfect game. These trails are awesome and I highly recommend them. To think the state almost closed this park, tsk tsk on our former Gov.

The bike pic.

It rained for Lollapolooza so we fabed up a fender. The bicycle is the only way to navigate the city especially during major events in Grant Park.

This is St.Joseph in Michigan. A much needed day off after the arduous concert going of Lolla.

The Denver B-Cycle made its way to Chicago. I guess Denver had some issues financing the bikes so we got them for a song. Apparently we have a pilot program going on.
Kenny and I went with the Chicago Mountaineering Club to Devils Lake for some climbing. We got rained out after one climb. We met some great people though and got a great history lesson from all the old timers about the club.

Me

Kenny

The Club

As with every year we make the six hour trek to mecca for some sandstone sport climbing. This year was no different. However the rain forecast scared everyone away and it was empty. It normally feels like summer camp on Labor Day weekend. We got rained on but the tent held up great in some nasty t-storms and still got some amazing climbing in. It is safe to say we own this place now.

End

A Country Mile; How about one hundred.

Last year a few friends set out to use our bicycles to their full potential. The plan was made to ride what is known in the bicycle world as a century. One hundred miles atop a bicycle saddle. It was a feat we trained for with marathon like tenacity (see: A Century of Progress). Little did we realize what a thrill it would be, so much in fact that we organized another. A few weeks back as RAGBRAI was finishing up the crew assembled yet once again in Champaign-Urbana, Il for our second century ride. This time with a different flare. The riders were made up of the regular players including, Chris, Vincent, and myself along with the addition of a handful of the best pedal people from the Bike Project, Urbana's own bicycle co-op. Our destination would be a loop out to the Bloomington, Il wind farms and back into town for celebratory suds. Country roads the whole way with the only official route being north west.The night prior was rocked with down pours and thunderstorms, the kind you only get in the country. I got very little sleep. The ride time was pushed back a few hours and we rode out the the meeting point to see who would show up for the late morning departure. Once assembled our bicycle cranks began to turn as we headed west out of town. Seven deep, we began to meet each other while we rode. The state of Iowa was well represented on this tour by Joel and Phil. The regular players plus Frank hail the south suburbs of Chicago, and another character, Anthony, was from the North East. Obviously all bicycle people we had at least one thing in common.
It didn't take long before we were on a bike path in The Lake of Woods park and last nights rain left a slimy coating on the trail that crashed three riders. Some bandaids and gauze cleaned all involved up and we rode on. We got back to the country roads and back to corn and soybean territory now with no set route. As farm land breaks up the roads they come to a T we just turned North or West. The natural heading took us through towns with not even a stop sign much less a convenience store to refuel. Our water bottles were refilled out of water spigots on the sides of churches. Then came the lemonaid stand that we cleaned out. Perfect for our ride little girl lemonaid made with more sugar than lemon. Anthony rolled over something that punctured both tires twice. Four patches and 30min later we rode on. Finally 50 miles out we got to the wind turbines. After relaxing we took a new heading; south and east as we rolled into town about 10 hours of actual time and 7hrs of pedal time. Some of us felt better than others and most of us got back on different bikes to meet and toast to our success.

The Huffy

You have all seen it. That Huffy mountain bike with full suspension. I would gather that if you look out your front door every kid is out riding one on a nice day. Well I once had one too. Back in the summer of 2004 I was back in the Midwest after working in the mountains for the winter. I was looking for an activity to keep my lifestyle active. My friend Vincent's older brother had given him a nice mountain bike. Any sport with the word mountain in it was gonna do it for me. I had picked up a seasonal job taking tourist photography while also working freelance for production companies. The thing with freelance gigs is that you don't get paid right away. So picture working on a summer job wage and you have an idea as to what my disposable income was like. I had already borrowed my brother's mountain bike that could only be classified as mountain due to its knobby tires. To my brother's disappointment I immediately sheared off a pedal. The next week rolled around and Vincent along with his brother's crew were going back to the forest preserve for the best single track that Cook County had to offer, which mind you is not very arduous. Like a kid whose mom won't let him go out to play, I watched as everyone loaded up their bikes to the racks on their SUV's. Feeling pretty down I pulled out my childhood bike and took a pedal around the subdivision and passed the creek. Growing up you if you needed building supplies for your fort you went to the creek, you could find anything in the creek and after years of living away from home not much had changed, it was still a dumping ground. Cruising by I saw a knobby tire poking out of the silt. As I walked down I saw a pedal too and began digging. To my surprise out came an entire bicycle. The Huffy Vormax appeared like a rusty Lazarus from the dead. I spent the afternoon oiling and scrubbing and pumping up the tires like an A-Team montage, the next week I would ride out with everyone else. Saturday came and it was a perfect day for riding. We met at the trail head and the brands of bikes listed like that of an A-list party. Any one of these bikes would take me months to afford. Dubbed "The Creek Bike" I pulled the Huffy off the bike rack and the car's suspension visibly rose. We shared a good chuckle and hit the trail. I spent the rest of that summer exploring every tucked away single track trail that rumored to be. I raced out of work so I could get in a ten mile loop before the sun went down. I rode that bike until the rear hub exploded. I still ride with the same enthusiasm however my bike is a bit of an upgrade these days I owe a lot to that little bike.

Mass it up.

The Critical Mass bike ride is one of my favorite things to do in the city. For those who aren't savvy to Critical Mass, in just about every major city in the world on the last Friday of the month the bicycle community meets in the town square (in my case Daley Plaza) at 5:30pm and by 6:30pm we all begin to ride around the city for about 3 hours. I began attending this ride when I was new to the city and it was a perfect way to learn the city and meet other bicycle people. The ride has been pretty crappy since Chicago's 10th anniversary of the ride about 2 years ago. However last Friday's ride was stellar. We had well over a thousand people on the ride, great weather, and the police were more agreeable than they have been in recent months. Check it out in your city.

The One Tank Trip: MIdwest Mountain Bike Fest

I'm coming to understand the Midwest really loves bicycles. It makes sense, the terrain is mostly flat which is conducive to human power. After all this is the home of Schwinn and SRAM. Mountain biking though? Well you have to be dedicated and that dedication can really pay off as it did this weekend. My buddy Chris and I went to the Midwest MTB Fest held in Grand Rapids Michigan. 160 miles away in the trails behind Cannonsburg ski area winding trails with great elevation oh yeah and pollen. The trails are unique in that they are sandy. When the glaciers melted and gave us the Great Lakes they left lots of sand and Michigan is already known for the sand dunes. Well even as far inland as Grand Rapids the soil content is mostly sand. I thought initially all that sand was kicking up into my eyes until I realized it was pollen making my eyes dry and itchy. I also learned that with sand comes erosion The Michigan Mountain Bike Association really has a nonstop job keeping up with both mother nature and a thriving MTB community. We rode the group ride on Sat. and got to know the trails and some other riders. We were told that we had to ride Yankee Springs before we left so we hit that trail the next day. The pollen wasn't nearly as bad and the trails were top notch. The flow was stellar and the elevation was tough complete with hair pin turns and steep drop offs. The single track took us though a pine forest that might as well have been out west somewhere. It was really impressive. Chris got to be Johnny on the spot with an air pump for some fellow riders and with a mile left in the 14 mile loop I broke a chain and had to hike out the remainder. But look on the bright side the last time I hiked out of a trail with my bike I had a mangled arm. It was a great weekend trip that took exactly one tank of gas and figured 22.3 mpg isn't horrible for a 17 year old truck.

I love loading up the bikes and gear.

Our bikes.

This is Chris pointing to where his head smacked the trail.

Yankee Springs Trail

Pines