From WV to WY to WA via NM, NV, NZ, & CA

The twists and turns of life are always fascinating to me. I have been carrying around a North Cascades National Park map with me for the last several years. It you look at the photograph on the front of it you would know why I have been using it as wall art. It has always been a place I have wanted to explore. A couple of weeks ago Clay and I left the Tetons for some new adventures and new jobs in North Cascades National Park.

It was a bit of an abrupt exit from the Tetons for me. I had barely gotten back from South Africa when we had to leave again. The jet lag waking me up at 3:30 am did help me to get jump started on the packing though. But I have learned that leaving the Tetons is best done in a similar fashion as to ripping off a Band-Aid. The faster you do it the less painful it is. But it is going to hurt no matter what. It was not an easy decision that brought us to North Cascades. It was only after much deliberation, drama, and discussion that we accepted the positions here. And by "we" I mean Clay. I was actually hanging out in the Southern Hemisphere with 12 kids, 8 cats, 3 dogs, 1 tortoise, no water, and no electricity, while all the negotiations were going down. But that is a whole other blog entry. But staying true to some vows he made several years ago, Clay did call so we could discuss where we would be for the summer. I am sure there was something in our wedding vows about not making life altering decisions solo, or it was at least alluded to.

Might want to check into that Mo.

Although this place is quite a bit different than what we are used to -there are more than two types of deciduous trees- we are always excited for a new adventure. If any of you would like to share in these adventures our open door/open floor policy is always in effect. And I don't know how they did it, but I am fairly confident that they brought our Park Service couch up from the Tetons! Nothing says home like some unmistakable, distressed looking Park Service furniture.

If you are not familiar with where North Cascades is just get out your British Columbia map, because we are closer to BC than anything else really. Including a cell phone tower apparently. Suck! To find us most of you all will just need to start heading west. And at some point hang a ralphie, or right aka head North. Look for the mountains covered in glaciers. If you get to the Puget Sound or Canada you have just missed us. Hope to see you soon!

North Cascades National Park
***They also have this crazy green stuff hanging off the trees here. It seems familiar to me, but I have never seen it before in this vast amount. They tell me it's called lichen, and has to do with copious amounts of moisture in the air. I'm still researching it, I will get some pics posted soon of this phenomenon.

Technological Autonomy

I've never been super techy. Honestly, I've prided myself on being able to solve most technological dilemmas by unplugging things and rebooting them. I've already mentioned that I don't even update my Facebook status, which, honestly, made Twitter seem ridiculous. Who cares what I'm doing? But my desire to not become one of those people who is perfectly content to continue to make mixed tapes instead of playlists has driven me to explore new technologies. Besides, rewinding sucks.

I had a day today where I used some very strange verbs. Verbs they don't teach you in 7th grade English class. I never had to conjugate "tweet". No one ever asked me about the infinitive "to tweet". I really never thought of saying things like, "Oh he facebooked me..." I'm sure that these are not real verbs.

I am sitting at a computer that could perfectly well stream my favorite songs through my internet radio. But instead, I am listening to my internet radio through my BluRay player and playing it on my plasma t.v. I realize that says several things about me, the girl who, until last year, did not even own a television. I think 1. that I am marrying a boy who really likes to research and purchase electronics. And 2. that the day I say that I don't need to learn how to have a video chat with my brother so he can show me the wedding invitations he and his wife designed in real time is the day that I am missing out.

I will still keep my mixed tapes, because the Subie has a tape player that is still holding on... And because they're awesome. Lots of stuff from the '90s is. But I do appreciate a good playlist, and I love reading people's status updates, so I am embracing it as much as I can. Although I swear, I just now learned what a widget is and still have no idea what a wiki is. And just the other day, I put pen to paper, licked a stamp, and dropped it in a mailbox, so there may be hope for maintaining my technological autonomy yet...

How I know it is Spring Break in Mammoth

Go no further than the grocery store. No one is older than 24. They are all wearing neon and sunglasses from the Tom Cruise classic Risky Business. I don't think any of them have seen that movie. There are snowboards in the shopping carts because none of them could afford to rent a car, so they take the bus right from the mountain. Next to the snowboards in the cart are Fritos, Totinos Pizza Rolls, Seagrams gin, limes, and a 24-pack of Coors Light tall cans. They were on sale. Lines of neon clad college kids wrap around into the aisles. They all walk like penguins because their snowboard pants are too big and don't stay up. I just wanted limes for my own gin. It was not Seagrams. It took 30 minutes. I came home, lit a candle, turned on a Scrubs DVD and poured a gin and tonic for myself and a scotch for Jon. 30 minutes in the neon jungle was totally worth it. Ahhhh... to be an adult. (I can say that now that I'm 30.)

Patience truly is a virtue.

The scene of the crime.

Months. Months is the amount of time I have been hinting around that my days of living in sin should probably come to a close. I'm impatient. And I know a good thing when I see it. I have never been one to let something I really want go. So, I hinted and hinted... lately not so subtly.

Yesterday, we skied to an unnamed knob somewhere in the Lakes Basin, supposedly on our way to Duck Lake (which, incidentally, is really too far for us to ski in a day, so we found out), and decided to get married. Right there in front of no one. With views of the snow-covered peaks of the Sierra.

I should have been more patient, because that was perfect.

Sierra Cement

I work with skiers. There is no question where the loyalty lies. When the snow falls, the office is empty. And we all like it that way. There is a rare occasion where work does have to come first. I had one of those days this week. All day I sat in my office and watched big, fluffy flakes fly. I hate those days. But I got a tip from a friend that there was a hill in town that was great for a quick apres-work ski.

Jon and I bailed out of work at about 4, ran home, let out the dogs, put on our ski pants and were on the road by 4:15. Yes, there was definite motivation for a powder run. We found the "trailhead" which was really just a spot someone had rammed their truck into and created a parking space. Our friend was nice enough to put the skin track in for us, so we figured we'd make good time and be back at the car by dark. Up, up, up and straight up. Our friend is in really good shape apparently. This skin track was ridiculous. I should have known there was going to be a problem, however, when the snow was sticky enough to ski straight up a hill. That is never a good sign.

But we plugged along, up, up, up, and straight up the hill. At about 5:30, I suggested that rather than tempt fate, we should start our descent. We took off our skins and looked down a lightly treed gully waiting for fresh tracks. Oh, man, were we stoked. At the first drop-kneed turn, however, we both realized that we were in for a long trip down.

Having learned to ski in Colorado, I was used to very light, very fluffy snow. My brief stint in Tahoe introduced me to what is best known as Sierra Cement. Feet upon feet of wet, heavy snow. Usually, this snow settles and isn't bad to ski. When you go out right after a storm, however, you are asking for trouble. And trouble we found. Both of us went over the front of our skis at least 3 times. The cool part was wallowing in 3 feet of wet snow to try to stand up again. At one point I had the pleasure of physically digging out my skis so I could get them on top of the snow.

Our descent took us so long, we were trying to find the road in the dark. Nothing like miscalculating where your car is and having to ski around rolling terrain full of trees in the dark. We finally found the road, but had no idea which way our car was. See, taking vague beta from a friend on a skiing spot you've never even seen in the daylight and starting your ski at 4:45 at night is, in retrospect, not the best idea we've ever had.

After about 10 minutes of erroneously skiing around, we finally decided to go downhill and hope our car was that direction. Mostly because it was easier. Fortunately, shortly after that decision, we found the Volvo.

Aside from the occasional bout with panic, remembering that my phone was in the car, realizing we had no idea where we were, and I could not remember for the life of me if I locked the house, the trip actually turned out to be a beautiful adventure. The moon broke through the clouds that were still spitting out snowflakes here and there and that dreaded Sierra Cement made the whole world silent. The silence was only broken when the trees shed some of that heavy snow.

Had we not miscalculated both our route and our ability to keep our skis afloat, we would have been safely home before dark, watching dogs sleep, and I'm sure, watching the Olympics... again. Instead, we enjoyed some unexpected moonlight skiing and experienced the joys of heavy, wet snow.

Fighting off the winter blahs...

Some girls combat blahs and boredom with shopping and new clothes, others with shoes... I'd like to present a similar, yet alternate reality...

To combat the occasional winter blahs (and to get off my couch and stop watching the Olympics... We have DVR for a reason) I decided that new ski pants were the way to go. I have decided that bitter chocolate colored ski pants were just the ticket to encourage motivation. I'd like to be able to say I'm the type of person that doesn't get hung up on new clothes, but, really, I'm just not that cool. I love new clothes. And even better, I love them even more when they get me off the couch and outside.

Unfortunately, this has been a bad week for the foot. It has good days and bad days. It's had a few bad ones. But the motivation to try out my new pants was so great, I enjoyed an hour and a half of stylish, although painful, blue sky, skiing. I was so confident in my new pant's ability to make me a better skier (like new shoes when you were 5 made you faster... this will come up later) I even tried telemarking the moguls. This was disastrous. New pants do NOT make you a better skier. Lesson learned.

If new ski pants aren't in the budget this week, I recommend taking your dog shoe shopping for some winter entertainment. After skiing, it was bath day for Bear. As I am sick of trying to squeeze the now svelte 66 pound wonder dog up over the lip of the tub and through the narrow opening in the glass shower door, we went to the dog-wash. The wash was uneventful. The dog is clean. But, some stylish new dog boots caught my eye. Any of you with a furry yeti for a dog in a very snowy climate know that ice balls between the toes suck. You spend half your ski picking them out. And his current boots fall off. A lot. They're poorly designed.

So, with the excitement of a 5 year old getting his first pair of velcro Roos, Bear went shoe shopping after his bath. We tried on three different sets. Who knew there were stores that let your dogs try on shoes? We found out that he is very different sizes in the front and back, thus contributing to the falling off of his previous set. Fortunately, the genius woman who runs the store sells the shoes in pairs not quads. Bear even tried them out. I'm not sure they made him faster, but they did attract a very hot little Samoyed and made him prance like a pony.

And if new ski pants and canine shoe shopping wasn't enough, we then became official California residents. Very few things are more entertaining than a trip to your local DMV. Almost $1000 later after smog tests, expensive California insurance, expensive California registration, and expensive California drivers' licenses, we are Californians.

Honestly, though, the horror of dropping $1000 on the Subie was padded by a short drive down a dirt road in the Owens Valley for a delightful short-sleeved dog walk with the snowy peaks of the Sierra looming overhead.

There are apparently many ways to fight off the winter blahs. I stand by the tried and true. Shopping for new clothes and shoes, not matter what kind of clothes, or who the shoes are for. :)

Ushering in a new decade

Everyone makes a big deal about your thirties. My 20's were pretty good. A lot happens in your 20's. I lived in at least 7 or 8 states in that decade. And discovered the merits of snow and mountains. I learned to ski. I finally got a permanent job. I managed to keep a three-legged dog alive and happy. I managed to work through several big relationships reasonably successfully. I met many people that changed my life and fortunately continue to do so. That's a pretty good list. I'm sure there's more stuff, but this would be a stupid long blog entry. So I feel that it was fitting to start this decade with the things I loved most about the last one... Mother Nature unleashed on our little mountain town this week leaving in her wake something like 6 feet of new snow. I took some painkillers and went out to ski that snow. I only spent about 1 run relearning how to ski. It's apparently like riding a bike. Thank goodness! So after spending 2 hours cutting through waist deep powder, I went to go be responsible. I feel like my jobs were some of the best things about my twenties. Not because I love working, but because I like to tell myself that what I do is important to someone. Like 4 year olds at a story hour. But more than that, aside from college, it's where I seem to meet the neatest people. So I've decided that in my thirties, I'll keep going. After work, I spent the remainder of my thirtieth much like I spent my twenties. Drinking beer with friends, listening to live music, and wading through a crowded bar. Although things are always changing, I feel like I've at least been able to, in the last 10 years, identify a few core things that make life outstanding, no matter where life happens to be happening at the time. I think my twenties were pretty great. If you're reading this blog, odds are you were part of the reason, so thanks. Here's to hoping that the next 10 is half as good as the last. The winter sun sets in Mammoth Lakes.

The Smashing Pumpkins were right all along...

Today is the greatest day I've ever known... Okay, so those were not then, nor are they now, earth shattering, shake you to the core lyrics. But there is definitely something to them. There are many decisions that we have to make in our lives. Most of them are really not that big of a deal. Like what to have for dinner, which of our 17 puffy vests to wear, or what to name our dogs (Really, they don't care. That whole thing is for us. Bear responds to "Kiddo" half the time). Yet some of them really are a big deal. Or are they? I think in all of the decisions I have made over the years, the ones that are the biggest deals seem to be, in the end, the easiest ones to make. Although I have also found that I never really know if I've made the wrong decision because so far, even if they were "wrong" they seemed to always work out in the end. Probably, our decisions are just what we make of them. So it stands to reason that we shouldn't spend so much time agonizing over them. Perhaps we should just enjoy the ones we've made that have gotten us to this point. Some day soon I'm sure I will have to make another one of those "life-altering" decisions, but fortunately, today is another day that I don't have to make one even as little as what to have for dinner. (Jon made that one for me... and he grilled it. Sweet.) Today is a day for enjoying the last big decision I made. I suppose today is the greatest day. Its the one I have. And as if to re-affirm that decision, 4 feet of snow fell on our little town this week. What could be better?

Winter?

Bear and Tiksha enjoyed a pre-dawn romp in 9 inches of fresh snow. Good thing the foot is still on the mend or there would be some hookie playing from work. It is possible that this is officially the start of a Mammoth winter. Here's to hoping. :) Hope the snow is falling wherever you are, too! (Unless you're in Texas. Y'all don't have any plows.)

Facebook: Life's Greatest Moments

Before I headed to bed this evening, I took a cruise through the Live Feed on my Facebook homepage. There were many highlights. I love it when people post great photos (usually of their kids). I like hearing about fun new stuff in people's lives. I could do without the "I'm exhausted and my life is really hard" status updates, but most of them I really enjoy. I feel much more connected to people that are far away. Here's the thing, though... I don't do status updates. I don't feel like very many things in my life warrant a status update. The highlights I picked out today were:

• Having a drink celebrating being homeowners
• Posting new baby pics.
• Just picked out the dresses

Those are indeed milestones. Homes, babies, bridesmaids. In response, I have thought of a few status updates that I will never post, but that adequately reflect my life in the past year.

Actual update: is getting married!!!
My update: Is still living in sin.

Actual update: is giving Tyler his first bath.
My update: is giving my dog a bath after he rolled in a dead seal.

Actual update: OMG! The twins are potty trained!
My update: OMG! My dog just got colitis...again...and pooed directly on top of a pine cone so it made an even bigger mess. Still working on the potty training.

Actual update: Just bought a house!
My update: Just mailed in my twelve thousand dollar rent check.

Actual update: Is painting the kitchen.
My update: Is trying to adjust my faux suede couch cover and thrift store throw pillows in such a way so as it doesn't look like I own a $15 couch.

Actual update: is relaxing watching the Colts beat the Pats after a day of lawn work.
My update: is relaxing watching the Colts beat the Pats after walking the dogs with the boyfriend in a beautiful mountain town in the Sierra.

Well, maybe things aren't so bad after all... :) I still won't probably do status updates, but I hope everyone else does... clearly, I enjoy them. Thanks to all who keep me checking my Live Feed!

So I Just Cooked My Dinner In The Men's Restroom...

I often try to take a step back from my life and look at it from an outside perspective. I realize to the outsider my life is probably really weird. But to me, it just makes me laugh. So you might be wondering what would cause someone to cook their dinner in a bathroom? Homelessness, (I guess technically I am homeless right now, shocker I know) brief moment of depression, or some random social experiment? My justification for this fine dining experience was the radiant floor heating. Clearly. Allow me to fill in some details.

After an extraordinary summer (and our first ski day of the season yah!!) in the Eastern Sierra Clay and I said our "see you laters" to a great group of people, and a lot of dogs ;) With two weeks before our winter in the Tetons begins we decided to explore some new places. Lassen Volcanic National Park, Lava Beds National Monument, Bend, Oregon, Weed, CA, and Mt. Shasta were all on our to see list, just in no particular order. With a pretty grim weather forecast predicted, including all known forms of precipitation, we decided to go for it anyways. As we pulled into Lassen our first night out the snowflakes started falling. They continued to fall as we set up our tent and throughout the night. The next day there were brief, yet thoroughly appreciated, moments of sunshine as we hiked up to some frozen lakes. After a later than anticipated departure we headed to Lava Beds National Monument. We scoffed at Mapquest's suggested route involving roads with only numbers, i.e. US 395. We opted to utilize those roads that also included letters, i.e. Forest Service Road A15. Through the maze of logging roads we went. We had no idea that Northern California was one of those areas of the world where carrying gas cans with you is worth considering. After about 3 hours into our supposed 3.5 hour drive we began to question our route choice. It had been at least an hour since we had seen the headlights of another vehicle and those belonged to a logging truck. The fact that the road we were travelling on didn't have any lines painted on it except for the spray painted squiggly lines pointing out frost heaves, wasn't super comforting either. We eventually did come to a sign that was barely legible but we could make out some wording indicating Lava Beds was 19 miles away. As we turned onto a dirt road covered with fresh snow we began to question our decision making process. After a couple miles of washboard bliss Clay brought up a valid point. No one has any idea where we are. I turned around. This required a 12 point turn. As we headed back we changed our mind again, we were (supposedly) only 19 miles away. Another 12 point turn. We made it further this time but then the road forked. At this point we really had no idea where we were. Another 12 point turn ensued. We then found our home that night along some other logging road. We were awakened promptly the next morning at 5:00am. Apparently loggers like to get an early start to their workday. We finally made it to Lava Beds that afternoon. We explored some lava tubes and hiked to the top of a cinder cone volcano. As we were hiking down the precipitation began again. We barely got our tent set up before the sideways snow started falling. As the snow increased in intensity and accumulation we retreated to the only warm haven we knew of. The men's restroom at the visitor center. Thoughtfully chosen since men seem to be less offended with the opposite sex in their designated restrooms. Not that their was actually anyone else visiting their national monument that fine evening. As we fired up our backpacking stove on the bathroom floor and enjoyed some delicious couscous and tuna I laughed out loud several times at the randomness of my life.

When we unzipped our tent the next morning we were rewarded with a winter wonderland scene, and some sunshine. Sunshine didn't last too long though. As we drove to Bend we drove through several full on blizzards. Yea!! After a delightful stay in Bend we are heading to the California Coast. We will keep you updated with our adventures in where to cook dinner ;)

Oh yea and Lassen Peak erupted. Who knew? I don't think anyone saw it coming!

Lassen Peak

Eureka! We finally found it!View from look out tower at top of Schonchin Butte.

Winter wonderland scene leaving Lava Beds.

Eastern most extent of Basin & Range Mountains in Lava Beds. Ironic as we head to the western most extent of these mountains for the winter. Does that make us basin and range groupies?

*This blog entry is dedicated to Mr. Bob Henry and his lack of sunlight in the great far north.

Girls Night Out

These usually start with someone saying, "We're coming over to play X-Box." I have dabbled in the X-box here and there, a little Tiger Woods Golf (I'm horrible), some Trivial Pursuit, and a tiny bit of MLB 2008. But honestly, I'm not a huge fan. The X-Box is, unfortunately for the boys, on its last leg. I suggested those Sony PS3's as I can use it as a Blu Ray player. That's my relationship with gaming systems.

So, Aimee suggested we hit the bars. We hit a bar because we're getting too old to "hit the bars". The bar we picked is normally within walking distance of the house, however, due to the current crippled state of things, we drove. I then hobbled out of the car, down the stairs and we were promptly greeted by many, many, many, men. I think there were three other girls in the bar and they were very, very drunk. The kind of drunk you don't let your friends get in public. At that point you're dragging them and their loud, slurred words out the door and hoping they go quietly. But, Sarah was sold on the $1 corn dog promo, so we stayed.

Aimee walked up to the bar to order. As we approached, we were greeted by the best pickup line ever. "Hi, I'm a prick. Name's Ernest." Oh, my, I was sold!!! Never fear, it was quickly saved by, "No, really, I'm an ass. I won't call you in the morning, but mind if I join you?"
Well, he had us at hello. We introduced ourselves. Aimee's being the shortest and sweetest of the intros: "Hi, I'm Aimee and I'm married." If Sarah and I had only had that out... Throughout the evening, he regaled us with many great stories and one liners about Phoenix, where he supposedly lived, and British Columbia, where he was supposedly from. While he was talking, Aimee left to follow a bar fight up the stairs. Sarah tried to go too, but I reminded her that I was a cripple and she should NOT, under any circumstances, leave me with a strange Canadian. Post bar fight, he continued to charm us with more great stories. But all good things must end.

He had left our table and had gone to the bar to get what I can only assume was his 18th Pale Ale, and some time between that moment and the next one had managed to piss off someone enough so that our next meeting with Ernest involved grabbing our bags from the table so we wouldn't get hit by his body which had just been hit off a bar stool and was moving quickly and uncontrollably towards our table.
There was then some wrestling on the floor, some gallant fight breaking upping, and some slurred denials of guilt.

Although that was damn funny, we decided to call it quits for fear of ending up in the emergency room or having to endure any more stories about bikes, Phoenix, or Canada. Having not witnessed a bar fight since about 2002 (my last year in college), this was a good reminder of why you should always follow certain rules when going to bars so you don't end up face down in a plate of corn dogs after a $100 bar tab...

• Travel in groups, but makes sure the people in your group like you.
• Be careful when they offer $1 corn dog night as the promo.
• If ESPN can not be found anywhere in the bar, you're taking your chances.
• Check your bill at the end. You may be more sober than your bartender.
• Never leave a man behind.
• I can't stress enough about the corn dog thing...

So next time the boys decide to play X-Box, I'm sure we'll try a new bar, but at least we now have a well crafted list to help us choose more wisely.

Come on, Who Doesn't Need a Shotgun Wedding?

Just a quick update for the loyal blog readers... Hopefully this is the final chapter in the saga of my stupid foot. This past weekend Jon and I went to Vegas. We managed to a. not get drunk and married by a fat Elvis, b. gamble away our life savings, and c. buy anything that says "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" on it. We thought it was pretty successful. Oh, and I got my foot cut open. Apparently the ligaments were not tightening on their own, so those had to get fixed, there were bone spurs that were somewhat troublesome that got removed, and some nasty scar tissue was done away with. This has about a 70% chance of leading to a fully successful ski season. As I was working with 0% before, I'm counting this as a win. As this trip to Vegas was focused on wellness, maybe next time we'll look into those other options.

When I grow up I want to be a...

Strangely, when I was in San Francisco this week, I stopped at a random museum on one of the Piers in Fisherman's Wharf. A friend told me that I had to see it. Well, do you all remember the weird carnival fortune teller from the movie Big? Creepy. This museum was full of such gems. My favorite, however, was the "Career Pilot". As someone who has more career ADD than anyone I know, I found this fitting. I go through this about once a month: What should I do when I grow up? Rapidly approaching 30, I often feel that I should be grown up already. Perhaps its a function of my chosen line of work... the move around to move up culture. I was sure I'd just hang out in Mammoth for a while. But as I am nearing the close of my second summer here, I'm getting the itch to move on to a new adventure in a new place. Perhaps it will subside. Perhaps not. I wish it was all as clear as this game in which you load your quarters, spin a wheel, and you too could be a Love Pirate or an Adagio Dancer. To all those Adagio Dancers and Fish Peddlers out there, cheers! Way to follow your dreams!

A Darn Funny Story and Some Darn Good Views

Sunset from Donohue Pass along the John Muir Trail.

So a couple weeks ago Clay and I decided to visit Yosemite. Walking distance about 32 miles. Driving distance 60 miles. We opted for the walking option. It was an adventure filled weekend. At one point I really thought the mosquitoes were going to pick me up and carry me out. We waited out a pretty nasty hailstorm in our little 32 ounce tent. It held up amazingly well. We walked back into civilization at Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite around 1:30 in the afternoon and realized we had about a five hour wait until the bus came through to take us back to Mammoth. So we decided to try and hitch a ride back home. I'm not going to lie you always feel a little bit like a dirtbag sitting on your backpack on the side of the road with your thumb out. I was glad though that we were under the safety of the "National Park Safety Bubble." This is California after all. We hadn't sat there ten minutes before an oddly familiar gold Lexus pulled over. Before the driver even got out of the car I knew who it was. As the Superintendent of Devils Postpile got out of the driver seat and started moving stuff around in her car for the dirties on the side of the road I was already laughing out loud. That's right our Superintendent picked us up. For those of you who don't have a superintendent it would kind of be like the CEO or President of your company picking you up off the side of the road when you had just hiked for a couple days and are covered in alternating layers of sunscreen and bug spray. Super. I realize the odds of this happening are slim to none. Which is why it is such a darn funny story. As we exited through the fee station at Yosemite we confused the crap out of the ranger in the booth when we all said we work for Devils Postpile National Monument. He responded with, "Oh you work for the Forest Service?" Oh the plight of being a little 800 acre monument. Ehh, we are loving life here. When your Superintendent is picking you up off the side of the road you know you are in a good place :) Previously mentioned hitchhiking.
View from Donohue Pass.
Thousand Island Lake.

Southeast Glacier Mt. Ritter.

Summit of Mt. Ritter.
Ritter Lakes from summit.

Minarets from Iceburg Lake.
Cecile Lake.

A Box of Joy

Did you guys ever see that Scrubs episode where JD and Turk get two prizes out of the same cereal box and it was the best day of their lives? Well, we had a similar moment last night at the Octagon. Aimee was pouring a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch after a long mountain bike ride and lo and behold, out of the box flops a plastic bag encased thing right in the Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Of course we had no idea what this treasure actually was until we opened the bag. Now, to set this up, we had already this week discussed that Sid the Sloth was Aimee's favorite Ice Age character. (Yes, we are all rapidly approaching 30). The cereal treasure was, as if willed by fate, a Sid the Sloth pencil topper. We will now come up with excuses to use pencils for at least the next day or two. It's good to know there is still joy to be found in cereal boxes.

A Word From Beardog

Me at Upper Little Lake in Rock Creek Canyon

Me and my mom at Upper Little Lake

As this is partially my blog too, I thought I'd weigh in. So this last week, my mom left me. She left me with the other two dogs. And that day started off so well! I got a walk at like 6 in the morning, it was still cool and pleasant. I saw bags going into the red car, but I figured I was outside, so I must be going. I should have known something was up though when they were putting bags in the red car. I can't fit in that damn car. Not with those other animals. Well, I was promptly put in the back yard and watched the car drive away without me. Stupid. But then things got better.

Clay and Aimee didn't go. And Aimee is a sucker! I got to sleep in their room (YES!) and woodwork with Clay. My favorite part is rolling in the wood shavings. And hanging out with the other dogs was okay too. Tiksha tries to play bite face a lot which is super annoying, but I'm over it.

When they got back from this trip they said it was super hot. I hate being hot. And they went to some place that doesn't allow dogs on the trails. Something about big trees. I don't know, but it sounds like I was better off rolling in wood shavings. But then we went for the sweetest hike ever the next day. Oh man, so many lakes! I swam in every one of them! I chased some squirrels, and while that black dog was lost chasing a bear, I got to lay down in the river. I hopped 4.8 miles that day. I was super tired when I got home, but my mom gave me lots of chicken treats and let me sleep for two days straight. I'm feeling better now and ready for my next adventure!

On Reverting back to old habits

Honestly, there have been very few good things that have come out of this stupid broken foot. Most of this process has been a lesson in tolerance. Particularly since moving back to the Eastern Sierra. I skied my first day of the season on May 17. It was exceedingly painful, but totally worth it. Beautiful corn snow at 8:30 a.m. I skied 2 hours, and went immediately back to the couch to ice. Hiking usually ends the same way. 2 hours, ice.

Yesterday marked 1 year since I forgot my shoes and decided to play ultimate barefoot anyways. Obviously, in hindsight, that decision was sub-par to say the least. I do feel, however, that I have gotten a taste of what life would be like if I wasn't the type of person that inevitably I am. For one, you get way more laundry done in a much more timely manner. Your bathroom stays cleaner. Your dog gets walked more. You take up hobbies you would have never thought of. For example, there is now a garden on my roof. Spinach, tomatoes, rosemary, bell peppers, and squash. I voluntarily did lawn work. We raked our entire yard clean of pine needles, cones, and winter debris from the snowplows.

I have not gotten lost in any canyons, swam in any alpine lakes, stood on top of any peaks, or camped in a rocky spot far from screaming children and the roar of diesel generators.
I like that my bathroom is clean. My dog likes that he is walked more. I will enjoy the veggies later this summer. But all the cookie baking and clean carpets in the world are poor substitutes for watching the sunrise over an alpine lake. Thursday I go in to try to figure out what to do next. Hopefully this will be better by the time the first snow flake falls in the high country. My 2009-2010 ski pass is hanging on the key rack like a bikini on a hanger for a compulsive dieter.

Until then, I'm enjoying watching a red breasted sapsucker near my bird feeder and I'll probably go buy more potting soil today, coming to terms with the fact that although alpine lakes may not be in the cards for this summer, winter is still far away and I have plenty of time to get better. Hopefully this year, that logic will prove true and I will revert back to my old habits... skiing till the burning in your legs is too bad to bear, your nose is peeling from the sunburn you can't get rid of no matter how much sunscreen you put on, and the only think you can think about doing when you get home is eating dinner, drinking a beer, and going to bed. No bathroom cleaning, laundry, or planting. My apologies to house guests when that happens. Better come out this summer while I'm still motivated to vacuum daily.

The moral of this story? If your feet will take you there, you should go and enjoy every minute you're there.

Misadventures on a Smaller Scale

The start of the June Lake Loop.

Jon and Aimee in the snow at the Vista en route to work.

So normally we'd be getting into trouble on some snowfield somewhere in the Sierra by now. However, barefoot ultimate has proven to be more of a life changing event than I initially thought possible almost a year ago. This week? Adventures with a bone scan. Something about bone spurs and cartilage damage... But when life gives you lemons...

You ride your bike.

An uneventful, but pleasant ride, the June Lake Loop was 22 miles of up and down and up and down and surely up again. But more eventful was when Jon and Aimee and I decided to ride our bikes to work in the snow. It wasn't snowing when we started, but 1000 vertical feet later (not to mention we were up at 530am for this scheme) it started snowing. The best quote of the trip was Aimee, "Crap, that's ice!" as her back tire went into a skid heading up the hill. I won't go into the details of the trip down, but lets just say 1500 vertical of icy wind from a 35mph bike leads to frozen parts. Brrrrrrr!

Yesterdays ride was almost as cold, but sunny -- no snow.... The sweet part was when at 430pm, we decided to ride back up the steep winding road 13 miles back home. Normally, we ride down and get a ride home. Ah, ambition. Out of food, already ridden 13 miles in the morning, such a good idea. About half way up, my stomach started eating itself, I'm pretty sure. Jon ate all my emergency snacks. You know, the granola bar that now looks like a tootsie roll from having sat in some obscure pocket of your pack for 4 months? The flavor you don't really like, but will only eat in an emergency? Yep. Eaten. So after about 1000 feet of climbing we both stopped at a pull out to assess our decision making skills. This, of course, did us no good, as we were now in it to win it. We only had 500 feet to go. Just ignored the lactic acid buildup in our quads.

Shortly thereafter, we made it to the summit and started the chilly decent to the house, hoping that dinner was at least started when we got home. Sweet. Chicken Chili, Chips and Salsa, and best yet, an ice cold pint of Black Butte Porter. I forgave Jon immediately for eating all my emergency snacks, despite the cursing on the way up.

The moral of this story? There really isn't a good one. Just hide your snacks, plan ahead, and make sure there's beer in your fridge.

A Home and a Job

Having not had a place to live or a job for quite some time now, to have both all the sudden has been a bit of a transition. It has been overwhelming really. We have to set alarm clocks and can buy food that requires refrigeration. For the past several months Clay and I have lived out of duffel bags, suitcases, and backpacks. We have slept in backyards, back porches, and dorm rooms. Most of these provided by many of you. We cannot thank you all enough. Really the working part has been the biggest transition. Luckily though we are easing into it all slowly with staff meetings at the coffee shop and what not. But all good things must come to an end I suppose. At least that is what they tell me. But really I feel like my good times are just changing venue. That new venue being Devil's Postpile National Monument in the Eastern Sierra. Leaving the Tetons was no easy task but knowing that we were going to such an amazing place made it an easier move. We are stoked for new adventures and for all the crazy shenanigans that are sure to occur with the reunion tour of MAC and Beardog and company. If you need a summer vacation we love visitors :)Said home. It's round. New work place. Rainbow Falls. I haven't actually seen this personally yet. But very soon.
A snowy bike ride.

Family photo at Mono Lake.