Palos Single Track

I've been logging hours out in the Palos Forest Preserve Mountain Bike trail network lately.  I try to get to the Bullfrog Lake trail head by noon on Saturdays but the traffic getting out there is brutal.  I've even tried to go north take the tri-state toll way south to get there.  Any way I try it takes me 1.5 hours to get there.  I made a quick little video of the last time out there.  Now that I know what trails film better I'll try to spice the vids up with some jumps and technical moves.  Any how here it is I hope you dig it.

In the Midwest we Call that 'Building Charater'

I am a hopeless addict to The Dirtbag Diaries. It is a podcast devoted to telling campfire stories of climbing, hiking, biking, fishing and the like.  I stumbled upon it looking for audio documentaries about working for a former employer, Disney. Much to my surprise writer and creator of the 'Diaries' Fitz Cahall, had a story about mountain climbing for the Mouse. A climber myself I was immediately hooked. My fondness for the mountains and traveling bonded me to the site even more. A while back the story 'A Successful Life' aired, about a young woman who leaves the North West for an opportunity of a lifetime to work for National Geographic in our nation's capitol. The problem at hand: Washington D.C. does not have mountains. This theme should sound familiar to anyone who accidentally gazed upon a post of mine. It is a subject I struggle with often. I was born and raised on a suburban prairie just south of Chicago but every summer my parents would pack up the kids into their DIY camper van and take us to the mountains. For two weeks out of the year I was from Colorado. It was a most adventurous life, looking for snakes prior to hand placement while scrambling on rocks, hiking to mountain waterfalls and walking in ice cold snow melt streams.  Colorado would later become my home if only a season at a time and I took in as much mountain life as I could. When post college life became all too frustrating I went back to the prairie I knew so well and found solace reconnecting with family and friends. When I was making the decision to drop roots in the flatlands I wondered if I had grown apart from the dream or if I was giving up on the life that I had wanted for so long. In 'A Successful Life' the woman realizes her love for home outweighs her career aspirations. I empathize with her plight in many ways. One could look at my own affinity for the Midwest just as her's for the Northwest. I'm with her all the way until she starts dissing the opportunities DC has to offer. Hey, what ever happened to "This Land is Your Land".  I was raised on the song by folk legend Woody Guthrie.

This land is your land, this land is my land
From California, to the New York Island
From the redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me

The song is about so much more than the unity of people. Its about a relationship with the land too.  Be it East or West there is appreciation to be had, and wonder and excitement to be at awe with.  

The sun comes shining as I was strolling
The wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
The fog was lifting a voice come chanting
This land was made for you and me

She could have had an entirely different and just as rewarding experience in a new locale. Admittedly I get why she went back and it sounds like her heart was always back home. I just wish she could have gone back to Oregon with a soft spot for the East instead of being "stoked for 5 days" and comparing her remaining time in D.C. to the fun she wasn't having elsewhere.

The adventures had out west taught me how to love the land regardless of topography. When I started viewing my surroundings this way mountains became metaphors. My mountains are the headwinds pedaling into work in the morning, the winding single track along Thorn Creek, the sand dunes at the edge of Lake Michigan, the sandstone canyons of Shawnee National Forest and yes the zero elevation prairie in the back of my parents house. 

Do It Right

"You're receiving this e-mail because you're at least kind of a badass." Read the first line of an email I received almost 4 years ago. It was quite possibly the greatest compliment I had ever been paid. It came from a guy whose Monday morning trip reports read like they should grace the pages of some glossy magazine. My friend Brendan was amassing a team to climb Mt. Shasta for charity. I sat on the steps of the north garden at work while on my lunch break and mulled over it. I'd be on the hook for a pretty steep fund-raising goal and I was still paying off my trip to New Zealand. It'll mean no ski trip this year. Plus a Glacial Summit was never a consideration of mine. I rattled off a handful of excuses to decline. My reply: "All of my summits have been with a snowboard on my back ya know. Needless to say I'm on the fence." I wasn't going. It was the first time I said "No" to an adventure. My inner Indiana Jones was screaming at me. Sometimes in life you get lucky and it comes back around again. I got in touch with Brendan this past July looking for an adventure. I had RAGBRAI in mind.  It turns out Brendan was on a major road trip and was in need of a climbing partner.  He pitched a trip to Banff National Park in BC, Canada. It was my first opportunity for some multi-pitch mountaineering.  You see when climbing in the midwest rarely does a rock climbing team have the opportunity to out climb the length of their rope and therefore my longest climb has only been close to 90 feet of vertical elevation. Brendan was talking 800 feet at the least, 'Would I run out of gas halfway up? I only know like 2 knots, I've never climbed with a pack on before, hell I've never climbed with anyone besides my brother'. The excuses came right back. This was certainly outside my comfort zone and I needed to blow through that so much more than I knew.

What intended to be a Canadian Rockies trip resulted in us turning around at the boarder and driving some 18 hours to Yosemite's Serra Nevada. I had been to Yosemite the first time 7 years ago. I was with my very pregnant sister and brother-in-law. We got the last campsite on the valley floor which was reserved for the mobility impaired. I guess my sister qualified. I had no idea what to expect. The park was majestic. Every turn revealed a sight so amazing that confining its majesty to a frame of film in my camera almost felt wrong. We hiked to Yosemite and Bridalveil Fall. All the while I felt there was something wild away from the view of a paved road and the visitor center that was I missing. Had a longer stay been in the cards I may have seen it then although never as I would this past August. Climbing then was nowhere near an aspiration of mine, and there were plenty of climbers walking around like badasses.  If you told me then that I would one day be part of the wildlife like they were I'd think you were the crazy one.

We roll up to a National Forest camp site outside of Yosemite around 11:00pm and bivy sacked under the stars. My thoughts immediately turned to John Muir. I was looking at the stars just as he did. A better bedtime story has never been told.  I fell asleep to to the sound of rushing water off in the distance. After a trip to town for some gear and a guide book we headed for Tuloumne Meadows Campground. With all campsites full, our names went on the waiting list. This is August in the country's most popular national park. I figured an alternate plan was in our future.  The trip had already taken a number of unexpected turns so of course it all worked out that we would stay for an entire week in Yosemite at the last minute.  After setting up camp Brendan got to the business of explaining what to expect when multi-pitch climbing.  Things like placing gear protection in the natural openings of the rock and how to remove stubborn nuts, chocks, and cams.  We went over a 3 point anchor and nonverbal communication for when we got out of earshot.   It was a lot to take in on top of the fact that time was of the essence, getting off the rock quickly was a priority.  With the tutorial finished we dined on some camp style chili mac and laid our heads in the dirt awaiting the alpine start in the morning.

Midway up Tenaya Peak

Nervous but confident for the climb I forgot my lunch at camp and Brendan graciously shared his chow and we bushwhacked to the base of the peak and began to climb.  Brendan led the climb and I followed cleaning up all the gear pitch by pitch.  Around the halfway point I relaxed and realized that I was on the side of a mountain, in Yosemite, exposed to the entire blue sky, looking down on Tenaya Lake.  I couldn't help but think of the people who gave the ambition to be there.  It was a moment I won't soon forget. 

Brendan and me on my first multi-pitch summit.

Me on the summit.

We were up there.

After an eight hour car to car excursion we jumped into the alpine lake and looked back at the peak that we had stood on hours earlier.  On the way back to camp we stopped at the general store and enjoyed ice cream on a stick while sitting on a curb, a genuine shared experience between friends to say the least.  The next day we climbed Pywiack Dome which is in eye shot of the road and we quickly amassed a crowd of spectators.  We finished at sunset and were lucky enough for the sky to put on a show for our cameras.  A rest day next had us wandering around a mountain town and the most amazing gas station I have ever been to.  For reals the Lee Vining Mobil with the Whoa Nelly Deli.  They had a bluegrass band playing while I ate Jambalaya.

Pywiack Dome mid climb.

Rappel off Pywiack with Cathedral Peak backdrop.

Our final climb would be Cathedral Peak just shy of 11,000 feet. The first ascent was achieved by none other than John Muir himself.  As Brendan said "and he climbed it in his Levis and a loaf of bread"  This climb got technical with a chimney that I knew the entire time was going to be tricky with a pack on my back.  With a bit of grunting and adrenaline I made it through without a major hiccup.   The summit had barely enough room for two people and Brendan said it was the funnest climb he had ever been on.  Then there was a dicey down climb and hike out on the John Muir Trail. After it was all said and done we had another 8 hour car to car day with the big pay off of ice cream on the curb another genuine experience and great people watching. 

Cathedral Peak

View from the summit.  Looking at Eichorn Pinnacle.

All my climbing gear would then go into my pack, camp would be broke and I would fly out of San Francisco and back to Chicago.  Public transportation took me back to my apartment around 11:00pm.  My pack was dumped to the floor relieving my body of an extra 50 pounds and I grabbed my Nalgene water bottle out of the netting on the side to fill it up with some Lake Michigan from the faucet.  The change in atmosphere hissed out of cap as I unscrewed it.  It was like a tiny bit of physical proof of the heights I came from.  I left a week earlier feeling nervous, excited, and a bit overwhelmed with life and came back with a wave of confidence that I was not expecting.   I grabbed my Devil's Lake climbing guidebook and began earmarking all the climbs that suddenly looked more appealing.     
 

Brendan is currently at 10,000 miles of nomadic road trip action.  He recently contributed a podcast to the Dirtbag Diaries about his summit of Mt. Shasta with his longtime friend and one of the most inspiring gentlemen that I have had the pleasure of meeting.  Do yourself a favor and listen to it here.  

New SIngle Track

A while back I got a comment about the trails behind the Jewel Grocery store at Pulaski and Foster. I had yet to explore the area so on a hunch that I could get some mud on the 'ol mountain bike I geared up to check it out. LaBagh Woods is the name of the Forest Preserve and the best part is that I can easily ride my bike there. I love it more carbon neutral sport. I gather my knobby tires will get worn down faster but I think I can live with that. The trails follow the North Branch of the Chicago River and feels like nothing else within the city limits. I got my first flat on a trail ran into a Cubs fan (mind you the two teams had just played each other)and found a lemonade stand. The trails are a great fix when you want to get out of the city without leaving it.

Enjoy!

Hegewisch Marsh on NPR

A little know gem in South Chicago was just highlighted on NPR on June 14th. Its known as Hegewisch Marsh. Chicago and the region of Calumet was traditionally a wetland and a trip to Hegwiisch Marsh is a view of what Chicago looked like in the days of Fort Dearborn. A while back in National Geographic Magazine they did a retrospective of what Manhattan Island looked like before it was settled. The piece was called Before New York and was full of computer generated images of before and after. While it was eye opening and thought provoking its nice to know that you can still see what parts of Chicago looked like before the industrial revolution.
You can listen to the story here


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Lake Front Ride In.

As the tough Chicago winter is turning into spring the Lakefront path is clear and trees are budding, even the bike path has a construction season. The Lakefront path is certainly a bicycle expressway and one of the greatest assets of the city. Enjoy!

45's

Colds are not the only thing that spreads around the office. Last month a guy I work with decided to dust off his record player and see if it still worked. This led to him finding a needle and then a new head shell. Finally a preamp to get the audio into his stereo, of which the manufacturer never intended to play such archaic equipment. Well I caught the bug not so long after his adventures. I dug though my folks basement in search of an old turntable that I had seen down there before. In a dusty pile sat an old Garrard Type A II. It was mostly complete missing only the auto 45 spindle. From my wanderings around the web it is from the late 1960's. The motor worked and everything needed fresh oil but all together it only needed a new needle. The day the needle arrived I was like a kid in a candy shop. I pulled out all my old punk rock LP's and listened to everything from The Fighters, to 88 Fingers Louie, to my Bollweevils' Heavyweights album. It was an evening full of teen angst, I burned though all my albums in one night. So back to the folks house to dig though their basement again. It was made clear I could have none of their albums but I went digging around certain I could get a loaner or two. I landed on their collection of 45's in nice neat cases with handles with metal clasps and corners guarded with armor from being dropped too hard. There was a lot of Doo Wop and Beatles, and the like, nothing that was too far removed from the local oldies radio station. Then I came across a box that was pistol packed with 45's. Right away I found a Hank Williams, then a Merle Haggard and a ton of jug band stuff I had never heard of then some blues and big band. Eureka! I inquired as to whose music it was, clearly it didn't belong to either of my parents, they said it must have been my Grandfather's. If I was going to listen to all of this music I was going to have to find that 45 spindle. A quick trip to Beverly Records and I would have a complete auto changing turntable not to mention even more music.
I quickly began digging though the box of 45's separating everything produced by Chet Atkins knowing well it would be country. My grandpa was clearly a Jim Reeves fan and has posthumously introduced me to him and a handful of other artists. I have been stacking 45's by the 6 and flipping them over to hear the b-sides for weeks now and am realizing that this is a box of records in many ways. I came upon "Sink the Bismark" a Johnny Horton ballad that could only be popular in the post war era. The song never charted in the top 100 when it debuted. A World War II Navy Veteran, its not a stretch to figure my grandfather purchased it after seeing the movie that inspired the song. This has been amazing going though my grandparents' Ipod, as I'm sure they both contributed to the collection. I must say their tastes certainly varied over the 30 some years of music. Everything from Ella Fitzgerald to the Everly Brothers.