noriko nakagawa

making the most of the wintery weather

2009-12-07T21:26:00.000-08:00

For the second weekend in a row frigid weather had squashed my climbing plans. My choices were limited. The trail situation is still somewhat grim with the ongoing fire closures, and I had already done Mt Wilson after returning home early from T-day break on the E Side. I combed summitpost for something suitable punishing. My coworker, Dominic, who had recommended Cactus to Clouds, had also mentioned Iron Mountain. It had a respectable 7200 ft of elevation gain over 14 miles and was within an hour drive from home, so it seemed like a good option. Jascha was once again kind enough to let me talk him into going. The NOAA weather report predicted highs in the 40s at elevation with wind gusts up to 23 miles an hour. I figured we could turn around if it got too nasty.

We left my apartment just before 8 am with the objective of finishing the hike before the big storm rolled in. We set off from the Heaton Flats trailhead just after 9 am. My original plan was to do the SW Ridge from Allison Mine. There were two approaches to Allison Mine; I chose the one from Heaton Flats trail. The second option up Allison Gulch, the one with multiple river crossings, seemed a poor choice this time of year. The well maintained trail climbed gradually through a wooded canyon to a saddle just before the Sheep Mountain Wilderness Boundary before cresting the ridge it would follow for many miles. On the ridge we passed a rustic helicopter landing pad, a small clearing with 3 reflectors glued onto the bordering rocks. My topo map showed the trail ending at Heaton Saddle, the point at which we were supposed to catch the faint trail to Allison Mine.

By now Jascha's pants were soaked from the underbrush. I had managed to grab a pair of North Face soft shell pants that I happily discovered shed water. At Heaton Saddle I saw only the faint hint of a possible side trail on the slope to our left. The trail leading up the south ridge was well worn and seemed far more appealing that the bushwhack over to the mine. After the saddle the trail steepened significantly and was clearly "maintained" only by foot traffic. We stopped for a snack break and it rapidly became clear how cold it was. We saw the coniferous trees of the day and admired the droplets of ice hanging from the needles.

As we climbed higher, the grade became more relentless, similar to the trails in Glendale's Brand Park. The signs of high winds were evident in the horizontal ice crystals that formed on the pine trees. By now mist blanketed the surrounding hills and we crested each hill only to find ourselves at another false summit. As we neared the true summit we cleared the fog bank and found ourselves under lovely blue skies. Before long we reached the top, marked by a lone ammunition box. It had taken us ~4:10, not superb but not too shabby. As with every trip to the San Gabriels I felt fortunate to have this rugged terrain in my backyard.

With the predicted late afternoon rain/snow showers we did not linger long on the summit. The steep, eroded trail made the going a tad slow on the upper section of the descent. The trail gains an additional 600 feet on the return, and it was nice to get an occasional uphill break. Finally back on the maintained trail we picked up the pace. We were lucky to catch a glimpse of a huge great horned owl perched atop a dead yucca flower stalk. The weather held out for the remainder of the hike and we clocked in at the trailhead for a total time of 7:30.

unfinished business: cactus to clouds to cactus

2009-11-22T12:53:00.000-08:00

As is typical for me I couldn’t stop fixating on returning to complete the full Cactus to Clouds out-and-back that I had attempted several weeks prior. A slightly late start and Jascha’s injuries led me to shorten my original plans to a Cactus to tram plateau out-and-back. As the target day (14 Nov) approached I saw a cold front approaching and I did not want to be up at 10,000 feet with highs in the 40s. I decided to postpone my trip until the following Tuesday when temps were predicted to warm up again. It had taken me 8:40 for my abbreviated out and back, so I was hoping to do the whole thing in under 13 hours.

I headed down to Palm Springs the night before and hoped that my intermittent insomnia would subside for at least one night. With 50 km and 10,000+ ft of gain ahead of me I needed the sleep. It did not, and I drug myself out of bed at 5:15 am with only a few hours of restless sleep. I arrived at the Museum trailhead just after 6 am with enough light to keep my headlamp in my pack. I borrowed Jascha’s GPS but I suspected that I wouldn’t need it, having just done the Skyline Ridge Route portion in both directions a few weeks prior.

The temperatures were mild and I made good time to the familiar landmarks: the picnic tables, the big horn sheep closure sign, the first glimpse of Coffman’s Crag, and the flat rock. I took mental notes on the places where the trail swung far from the ridge proper so I could ensure I was on track during the dark descent. As before I was glad the striking scenery was there to distract me from the steady grind. If I kept this pace I knew I could make the tram area in 4:30. Unfortunately, my left TFL and calves were screaming and I slowed on the grueling upper section. My time was almost exactly the same as before, 4:53.

I made a beeline for the Long Valley ranger station for my self-service permit. Having a copy of the San Jacinto park map was helpful, as there was no sign coming off of Skyline Route directing you to the ranger station and not all of the trail junctions mention San Jacinto Peak. The fresh looking tourons were coming off the tramway, oblivious that they were blocking off the entire trail perhaps due to altitude stupor. Although my legs would appreciate the gentler grade for the next 11 miles, I knew this would be the mental crux for me as I am not fond of flat, meandering trails.

The route to the summit was slow going and I was not pleased with the long shallow switchbacks. On the final portion I must have passed under the summit at least three times barely gaining any elevation. Finally I hit the talus pile that sits atop the unremarkable summit. I took my requisite summit photo, refilled my hydration bladder, and headed back down. I ran ~2 miles of the descent, not wanting to aggravate my chronic TFL issues before the brutal descent. I reached the top of the Skyline Route just after 3 pm. I knew I had at least 3 hours of technical descent in store, but if I kept the same pace as my previous attempt I could make 13 hours.

The sun was setting quickly and by 3:30 the shadow of the range extended far out into the surrounding valley. I hurried down the trail to get in as much distance as possible before darkness fell. My ascent homework paid off and I wasn’t caught off-guard this time when the trail made significant diversions from the ridgeline. I was feeling surprisingly good and was able to run some of the rolling terrain. At 5:15 I was forced to extract my light. Shortly thereafter I had a close encounter with a thorn bush, which left me with two nice scratches on my face.

After what seemed like ages I finally passed the big horn sheep closure sign. I knew the picnic tables (and trailhead) were not far below. The trail below the picnic tables is the most technical and a particularly punishing finish to the long day. I checked my watch and I was on track for a sub 13 hour finish as long as nothing bad happened. At 6:47 pm I reached the trailhead, 12 hours and 45 minutes after I had started. I hobbled across the art museum parking lot, which was filled with valets and fancy cars for what appeared to be a museum benefit, feeling grimy, worked and completely satisfied.

solar musings

2009-11-22T09:40:00.000-08:00

My mom and stepdad were on their way back to WA from southern UT, so Jascha and I agreed to meet them for dinner in Vegas. We used the opportunity to spend the day checking out another of Dow’s fine recommended link-ups, Beulah’s Book to Sunflower (5.9). The route proper ascends ~1400 ft over 8 pitches on Solar Slab Wall, a perfect November destination with its sunny southern exposure. My only reservation was that much of the route was on the softer white sandstone, not exactly my ideal rock with its slopey eroded holds.

With the dwindling daylight hours I woke us up at 5:30 am. I did not want to have to deal with stuck ropes on the rappel in the dark. We arrived at the Oak Creek parking lot around 7ish and were on the trail by 7:30. We had a small shrubby detour getting to the base of Beulah’s Book, but it gave the party in front time to get up to the second belay.

My plan was to take the arête variation on pitch 2 to avoid both the bomb bay chimney and having to haul up a #4 cam. The first pitch was uneventful, a 5.6 dihedral to face. As I got closer to the belay I could see my first major obstacle above the arete, the slanting, lieback dihedral from which the route gets its name. It looked strenuous, off-balance and very parallel. As usual I had skimped on the gear to save weight, ignoring the recommendation for 2 sets of cams in the 0.4” to 3” range. I belayed Jascha up.

The bolted arête variation started off with fun thin face holds then turned onto the arête before rejoining the main route at the top of the chimney. I paused below the dihedral for a while trying to figure out my best strategy with my limited gear supply. Fortunately, there were decent face holds and I was able to sling a horn before moving left toward the crack. After 2 cams (and some grunting) I was through the first 5.9 crux. Jascha cruised the lieback and we were soon on to pitch 3, which was run out but easy.

Before long we were at the base of upper Solar Slab wall. The party ahead of us was two pitches up Solar Slab. We took a snack break and I tried to get psyched about leading 5.9 trad on crappy white sandstone. We scrambled up the fourth class slabs to the varnished corner that marks the start of Sunflower. The varnished section was slick, but fortunately there were plenty of other holds available. I arrived at the first belay ledge that is shared with Solar Slab and belayed Jascha up.

The crux pitch looked innocuous from below, but I knew better. I headed up the curving hand crack which soon turned into tenuous hand jams with seemingly insecure friction holds for feet (I admit that the friction was far better than I anticipated). I was happy that secure gear placements popped up just when I needed them. The scary part behind me, I soon arrived at the belay ledge and waited for Jascha to join me.

Dow’s description was right on for pitch 6. I followed the 5.8 corner to face, then angled up and left to the bolted belay. Pitch 7 was a bolted slab pitch on somewhat hollow holds. To stay in the 5.9 range the route meandered right and then left of the bolt line. I had a difficult time recognizing “the pod” mentioned in the climbing descriptions so I ended up running out the rope, which I figured would work out to our advantage on the long final pitch.

After Jascha arrived I started up pitch 8 which heads up toward a roof then traverses up and left before reaching it. From here the route diagonals significantly leftward to join up with the top of Solar Slab. Because it’s low angle you have to guess the exact trajectory, but because it’s easy terrain you don’t have to worry too much about route finding errors. With the low angled slab, the rope drag was significant and I was glad we were almost done with the technical part. Jascha was happy to be off the hanging belay and was soon at the final anchor.

It was a little after 3 pm and we contemplated our descent options. I had read that the quickest option was to rap Solar Slab (4 double rope raps), then downclimb (or rap, 6 single rope raps) Solar Slab Gully. With the rope eating cracks and clingy edges typical of Red Rocks I found it hard to believe that this was a faster option that the 2 single raps required for the Black Orpheus descent even though I knew we had several hundred feet of elevation gain to access the rap stations plus a longish walk-off. The Black Orpheus descent it was.

We had climbed Black Orpheus earlier in the year, and I posted an annotated descent description on summitpost, so the details were still fresh in my mind. The Solar Slab walk-off heads right initially then left to gain the huge ledge system below the summit. We found the cairns that lead left down the gully and to the first rap station. We didn’t bother with the second rope, but instead angled climber’s left to the intermediate ledge and rap station. One more rap and we were in Painted Bowl. We cruised down the slabs and finally down the slick slab into the canyon floor. I had forgotten about the huge boulders that line the canyon floor for quite some time. We passed the party that we had seen on Solar Slab and finally reached the trail. Darkness fell as we were approaching the parking lot. It had taken us 2:20 to descend. Showers and Japanese food awaited us.

cactus to clouds intro

2009-11-01T11:19:00.000-08:00

I first heard about Cactus to Clouds a few months ago from one of my coworkers, Dominic. The route to the tram gains 8,000 ft in ~11 miles (10,000 ft in ~16.5 miles if you include the summit of San Jacinto Peak). October rolled around and with the more reasonable daytime temps, I decided to give it go. I talked Jascha into accompanying me. I had read varying reports about what to expect for time. The most authoritative C2C site said that that middle of the pack marathoners can expect to reach the tram in 4-5 hours. I’m not exactly in ultra shape and although I’ve been doing my usually shorter hill runs during the week, I haven’t done any long alpine days since August. One of the Summitposters I know took 16 hours to do the full out-and-back so I figured I’d be in that ballpark if I did the whole thing. There was also a lot of online chatter about the steepness of the trail and the difficultly of navigation the lower trail system, so I had Jascha download a GPS track. I also printed a topo map, but I wasn’t sure about the accuracy of the hand drawn route annotations. Unfortunately, the Tom Harrison topo series only covered the areas in close vicinity to San Jacinto State Park, not the portion of the trail that passed through the Agua Caliente Reservation.

We headed down to Palm Springs the night before to avoid adding 2+ hours to the start time. I set my alarm for 5:30 am. My alarm didn’t go off and I woke up at 6:30. We left the well-marked Museum trailhead at ~7:20. Below the picnic tables there was a fair amount of trail branching, some of which was obvious switchback cutting but some also fed into alternate systems that headed off to the east and west. For the most part at the alternate trail junctions the correct trail was to the right. Parts of the trail are marked with painted white dots and arrows, although at one point the markings led in the wrong direction. The trail heads up the ridge initially in a northerly direction then diverts to the northwest, with the primary visible landmark being a major drainage the east. The Mojave desert flora included Mojave yucca (Yucca schidigera), creosote bush (Larrea tridentata) and various species of cacti (the most striking being the red-spined barrel cactus, Ferocactus acanthodes). Along with the backdrop of granite boulders the plant life provided some major eye candy to take my mind off the long path ahead.

After the picnic tables we passed the warning signs about the strenuous nature of the trail and lack of water and the one for big horn sheep lambing season closures (1 January to 30 June). With the exception of one primary junction (which I suspect led to the Ramon road trailhead), the trail was well marked and there were less side trails. Before long we hit the ~ 3.5 mile section where the trail flattens out somewhat. We took a short snack break and I found out Jascha had accidentally deleted the GPS track while recalibrating the elevation from our recent Peru trip. The intermittent winds kept the temperatures down, although it also kicked up eye-stinging dust. As we approached the crest of the ridge we caught our first glimpse the large pinnacle that marks the top of the tramway. With the introduction of manzanita and pine trees, the Mojave desert flora slowly transformed into that of the Peninsular Ranges.

The trail contoured below the ridge proper and crossed the stream bed with the huge water worn granite slab marked on many maps as “Flat Rock”. After the slab the trail again steepened. To add to the psychological crux, the trail was in worse condition than below (due to the its above snowline elevation) with deep sand and loose rocks in spots. I checked my watch and knew that I could likely break 5 hours to the tram if I kept a steady pace. Near the top Jascha started to lag behind, but told me to keep going. I passed 3 guys and made it to the top of the plateau (the other side of the rock from the tram station) in 4:55. In ~10 minutes Jascha crested the trail and announced that he was done due to hamstring issues. He encouraged me to do the whole route, but I felt bad making him wait and have to shell out $25 for a taxi to go the 6 miles back to the car. Plus, I knew I’d likely finish in the dark and wasn’t sure how easy it would be to navigate by headlamp and topo map. I decided to backtrack to retrieve the car, which I estimated would take somewhere between 3 and 4 hours.

I managed to avoid most of the side trail detours on the return trip. Fortunately, I remembered some of the distinctive rock formations from the ascent and was able to confirm that I was on route. I could see the golf course below the museum so I knew in what cardinal direction to head. About 0.8 miles from picnic benches I thought I may have taken a wrong turn and was headed for the Ramon trail system. It was hard to tell with the trail weaving in and out of the large granite boulders. I could see where I wanted to go, but not which trail system to take. I decided to cross the boulder field to a trail that I was fairly certain was headed in the right direction. Finally, I made it to the warning signs. When I got to the bottom Jascha was there to meet me. He reported that he had caught the tram almost immediately after we had parted and scored a ride back to his car from two of the guys we had passed on the trail. He passed the time at the coffee shop and napping on the grass. Total time: 8:40. I'd like to head back and go for the full out-and-back before the days get too short and the snow starts to linger. Stay tuned.

Assessment: The trail is similar to Mt Wilson in terms of steepness, but longer. The bottom section is navigable without a GPS, but it may add some extra time with detours; a descent of the lower section in the dark would be trickier. If you get off-route the terrain is accommodating to x-country travel.

Additional References:
San Jacinto State Park topo map
Summitpost description
Trail topo (from the Cactus to Clouds Hiking Guide site)

the most spectacular barnyard on earth

2009-10-23T23:12:00.000-07:00

Due to Jascha’s intestinal issues, our Huayhuash departure got pushed out a day. My guidebook advised that we take a bus to Huallanca and get let off at Quartelhuain (aka km 38), so we booked bus tickets from Huaraz to Huallanca. My topo map (Brad Johnson’s Cordillera Huayhuash 1:50000 map) did not show the alternate route from Huaraz to Huallanca that completely bypasses Quartelhuain. Fortunately the road was good and the detour didn’t add much extra time. We hired a taxi to take us from the dreary mining town of Huallanca to km 38. Although Jascha’s turista has mostly abated he now had a cold, not ideal at altitude.

My initial plan was to hike up and over the Cacanan Pass (15,387 ft) to access the east side of the range for a day, then cross-country over Garagocha Punta (Pass) back catch to the westerly route. I knew we would have to do an abbreviated version given our late start. At the trailhead we saw the remnants of a trekking camp from the night before. That group, like most, was employing mules, porters, and cooks. We were self-supported. I’m not a huge fan of backpacking for the sake of backpacking, but having climbed in the Andes previously, I know that glaciated peak slogs are not high on my list of fun activities. From what I’d seen from other people’s Huayhuash photos, I figured I could make an exception to my anti-backpacking principles.

We started up the trail around noon. About 500 vertical feet from the pass it started to rain. We backtracked and took shelter in a cave. Jascha told me he wasn’t doing well with the altitude. I had him take an acetazolamide pill and we decided to abandon our easterly excursion. On a 2003 trip to Bolivia I had been up to 19,974 ft, so I had some experience with higher altitudes. Jascha had not been higher than 14,200 and his cold was compounding the effects. Once we saw a break in the weather we headed down to camp near the trailhead. The rain started up again so I left Jascha in another alcove while I looked for a tent site. I was starting to get the feeling that we would be hiking through a giant pasture for 3 days, albeit a scenic one. I found a flat spot behind some boulders and we set up the tent in the rain. At this point I was regretting that we had not brought the larger tent, although I was thankful that I had invested in an e-book reader before I left and read up on Sister Ping’s human trafficking ring. Jascha went to sleep immediately, but I woke him around 6 pm to make him eat.

The next morning I awoke to first light and a tent covered with ice. We also had 2 visitors in the way of friendly dogs, who were thoroughly enjoying the rolling terrain. One of them extracted half of a freshly killed sheep carcass from a small cave ~100 feet from our tent and proceeded to roll on it. As we were packing up a local woman approached and asked for a fee of 15 soles each (~$5) ‘por la protección’. I had read that we should expect to have to pay camping fees so it didn’t come as a surprise. She gave us a receipt and left with our money and the sheep carcass.

The trekking route detoured onto the dirt road to the village of Rondoy (more like a few stone huts). At this point we had to decide whether to take the direct dirt road to Llamac or take the more scenic trekking route over another pass and along the base of the Huayhuash or split up and take separate routes. After some deliberation Jascha said that he would join me on the more scenic route. We left the dirt road and headed up the valley following cow trails. From time to time we were followed by one of the curious, drooling bovines. As we heading south the views of Rondoy (19,258 ft) and its subsidiary peaks came into view. We were in the most picturesque cow pasture I had ever encountered. I was glad that I had the topo map because with the cow trails, the hikers’ trail had become increasingly more difficult to follow and I had to navigate by topographic features. The crux, the 15,584 ft Sambuya Pass, was in view but Jascha was having a difficult time keeping up, and the wind and cloud cover was making it increasingly colder.

Finally, we crested the saddle and caught a glimpse of the intensely turquoise Solteracocha Lake with the massive Jirishanca and Yerupaja peaks and associated glaciers looming above. The amazing views made the slog well worth it (at least for me). Again we encountered a maze of trails, but this time we chose poorly and ended up on what Jascha called ‘a third class grass' slope. Fortunately, we made it through the cliff band and onto some sheep trails which dropped us into a nasty patch of brush, easy passage for those under 3 ft in height. After what seemed like forever we found our way to the valley floor. As we cruised toward the main camping area once again the storm clouds rolled in. Rainy season was a month away yet we had experienced persistent afternoon/evening showers two days in a row. We sped up, but by the time we reached a suitable site the rain and winds were in full force and our nerves were frayed. We hurried to get the tent set up (which was still wet from the previous day) and once again piled in with our damp gear.

I warned Jascha that we’d need to get an early start the next day if there was any hope of making it to Chiquian or Huaraz the following day. It was Sunday and taxi/bus availability in Llamac were uncertain, plus we had one more obstacle, a 13,800 ft pass. We spent another restless night in our cramped tent. The next morning, like clockwork, some locals came by for our camping fees. Apparently, we had crossed into another zone, so our previous payment wasn’t transferable. We hurriedly packed up and headed out toward Llamac. On the way we were advised by the father of the men we had paid that it was too late to make it to Huaraz. Conveniently his daughter owned a hostel in Chiquian, so I decided to ignore this advice.

After not too long the trail began to gradually climb out of the river valley; it reminded me of the oak chaparral hills of California minus the backdrop of 19,000 ft peaks. Jascha was still not feeling well and started falling behind. While I waited I chatted with Martin, a guy from Switzerland who had done the entire Huayhuash circuit self-supported in 10 days instead of the usual 18 (with support). He said that the locals confirmed that the weather had been unseasonably wet this year. I was most impressed that he had lugged around a huge SLR set-up the whole time.

When Jascha caught up I found out that he was doing even worse than before. We still had a mile or so to the pass and I offered to take some of his gear but he said no. I was happy to finally crest the pass. Jascha was out of water and still feeling nauseous. I knew we had to hurry if there was any hope of getting out of Llamac that day so I urged him to keep moving. I was aiming to reach Llamac by 11:30 am to make the 1 pm Chiquian-Huaraz bus, but I watched 11:30 come and go. We played leap frog once again with Martin and finally rolled into the village of Llamac. The first thing I noticed was the total lack of taxis. Luckily one of the locals came up and said ‘bus?’. By some stroke of luck we’d arrived just in time to catch the 12:30 bus to Huaraz. That meant a hot shower at the Steel Guest House and dinner at our favorite restaurant, La Brasa Roja, but best of all no tent.

The Route

on the ají trail

2009-10-01T06:31:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Lima at 3 in the afternoon to uniformly grey skies. I wasn't sure if it was overcast or smoggy, but I strongly suspected the former. Our hostal was run by a kind older woman, named Marisol, who stopped by to make sure our room was OK. We ventured out for our first taste of true Peruvian pollo a la brasa, which we found in a nondescript place next to the gargantuan supermarket, Plaza Vea. When I asked for ají the waiter brought us out the special red version from behind the counter. The chicken turned out to be the best pollo a la brasa I've had to date, with the perfectly spiced dry rub and smoke-infused flesh.

After remediating the sleep deprivation from our red eye flight to Lima, and a fresh pot of Bialetti espresso from Marisol, we caught our flight to Cuzco. I had exchanged emails in Spanish with the company we'd arranged for the Machu Picchu part of the trip and to the best of my knowledge we were supposed to be picked up from the airport. We were greeted at the gate and escorted by a man from the guiding service whose cell phone ring tone was amusingly, Bon Jovi's 'Shot Through the Heart'. Our hotel, the stylish Picola Locanda, was high up on the hill on a steep, cobblestone pedestrian walk above Plaza de Armas, so I got in some training for the Cordillera Huayhuash portion of the trip (Jascha let the driver carry his pack as usual because he can't say no).

We had an hour before the service was supposed to give us an overview of the Machu Picchu trip so we took a walk up the hill to Sacsayhuaman, one of the many Inca ruins in the area. We found a pathway that cut under a barbed wire fence (the lower wires conveniently tied up to form a passage way) and bypassed the roadway. The pathway took us up to a series of stone terraces and from the top provided a view of the remaining ruins. We didn't have much time so we headed back to our hotel.

After handing over our trip fees we headed down the hill for a satisfying set lunch at El Fogon and a visit to Qoricancha, the remains of an Incan temple housed inside the Cathedral de Santo Domingo. Sadly, very little of the actual ruins remained (most had been restored post-earthquake), so we spent more time looking at the Catholic paintings, which were littered with a pleasing array of demons, sickness, and death. I noticed that no one, Spanish speaking or otherwise, was paying any attention to the 'no photography' signs.

Next on the list was hitting the local pharmacy for Cipro and acetazolamide. As we passed the Plaza de las Armas we noticed several displays of political art bringing light to Alberto Fujimori, his head of intelligence, Vladimiro Montesinos, and the numerous victims of the regime's death squads. After finding a phramacy, I made Jascha return the Cipro after he got charged $25 per course (we later found it for $3 in the non-touristy part of town). We wandered around the locals' part of town and found el Mercado de Santa Ana, where we picked up cheese and Jascha's new drink of choice, Negrita brand Chicha Morada. Morada. As dusk started to fall the anticuchos stands started coming out and for ~$0.35 I picked up a skewer laden with scrumptious ají.

At 7:45 am the next morning we were picked up for the long trip to Aguas Calientes. I decided that I didn't want to deal with the train/hotel/entrance fee logistics and the tour provided logistics coordination at less than what I could arrange on my own. The trip was long, ~6 hours of driving (much of it on dirt roads) plus another 30 minutes on the train. We reluctantly set our alarms for 4:15 am to allow time to hike up to the entrance and procure one of the coveted numbers for the trek up Huayna Picchu in lieu of the guided portion of our tour.

We set out just before 5 am and after 50 minutes of trails and stairways we reached the entrance station. The gates opened at 6 and everyone anxiously awaited for the perfect photo op as the first light hit the ruins. The size of the complex was massive, but what set it apart from somewhere like Angkor Wat was the topology of the site and surrounding land. We crossed the site, admiring the perfect granite boulders that littered the area, and wandered over to the Huayna Picchu checkpoint. After 25 minutes of standing in line it was our turn to enter. We passed at least 20 people on the steep stairways that led up to the peak that overlooks Macchu Picchu and provides excellent views of the snow-capped surrounding peaks. Once we returned to the site we toured more of the ruins and lounged on the grassy terraces, knowing that we'd have to face the long van ride back to Cuzco. I was covered with bug bites, which I suspected were from the flies I had seen that looked a lot like the S American vector for leishmaniasis, but I knew my risk of contracting anything was extremely low.

On the ride back home Jascha was having a hard time staying warm and felt nauseous. Ironically, two days earlier he had scoffed at me for not eating doner kebab, which I had thought wasn't sufficiently cooked. He though that he had some life-threatening exotic disease; I figured he had a somewhat severe case of turista and made him take Cipro. I wasn't sure what that meant for our trip to Huaraz the next day or for our Cordillera Huayhuash trip, but he agreed to fly back to Lima as planned 'for access to better hospitals'.

one with the moon

2009-08-19T22:16:00.000-07:00

Jascha's announcement that he no longer wanted to solo 4th class+ with fatal exposure put a major damper on this year's alpine climbing plans. The season had already gotten off to a slow start with busy work schedules and lingering t-storms, but now I had to either quickly round up partners or adjust my wishlist. Having soloed Venusian Blind last summer with Miguel, Moon Goddess didn't seem totally out of question. Granted it was a grade higher (5.8 versus 5.7), but like most High Sierra routes I knew it wasn't sustained. I was familiar with quality of rock on Venusian (just one arete over), so I took reports of horribly loose rock with a grain of salt. I also knew that there was a gully to the left of the route into which one could bail if things got too sketchy. My main concern was getting off-route on more difficult terrain, but I figured between the detailed route descriptions from summitpost and Supertopo I'd figure it out.

The night before the weather report daytime max temps in the high 40s, but I hoped it would likely be warmer as it was the weekend before on Spire Col. I gave myself an extra hour of sleep to let things warm up and left the trailhead at 6:10 am. It was 42F. Fortunately, as I got into the sun things started to warm up. There was one other party on Dark Star, but amazingly no one that I could see on Venusian or Moon Goddess. Last July there were at least 3 other parties on Venusian on a Wednesday. I made good time to the bottom of the snowfield, reaching its base in little less than 3 hours. Unfortunately, no parties ahead of me also meant no steps kicked into the snowfield and I hadn't bothered to bring crampons or an ice axe (I realize this happened last year as well). The snow was too firm to kick more than tiny ledges with my approach shoes. I grabbed a sharp rock and stepped from sun cup to sun cup. At the spots where the sun cups ran out I chipped out handholds and gingerly traversed the slope. This whole exercise added at least 20 minutes.

The first part of the route is shared with Venusian and consists of heading up a series of 3rd class ledges. The next six or so pitches were 4th class and provided the perfect warm-up for the exposed 5.7 traverse I knew would come when I reached the first tower. At the bottom of the tower I changed into my climbing shoes and peeked around the corner. For once the descriptions were accurate when they said exposed. Granted the holds were positive, but the wall was completely vertical and it was a long way down (more descriptive photo courtesy of Miguel here). The thing I find so satisfying about soloing it that once I'm on a committing section my mind is completely clear to focus only on the task at hand. Even doubts about my ability to complete the moves or concerns over holds pulling out completely disappear. Other than lane-splitting on my motorcycle it's the only activity I've found that truly frees my mind of its usual thought storm.

With the traverse past me I climbed into the notch that leads up to the Ibrium Tower and the crux. From the cushy belay ledge the crux looked somewhat intimidating, a 5.7 lichen covered chimney followed by a 5.8 dihedral. I could see a reasonable escape route into the gully, but decided that I might as well give the route a go since I was here. The chimney was fairly easy and despite the two desperately placed cams jammed for eternity in the dihedral, the crux wasn't too bad. I scrambled up to the white marble belay ledge and around the corner to the narrow 4th class ledge system. I could how other parties got sucked into the harder terrain above, but with Dave Daly's excellent route description routefinding wasn't an issue.

I easily found the "diving board" chockstone (as described by Dave) that marked the top of the next pitch. The 5.7 gully took me up the back side of Ibrium tower. The 5.7ish downclimb into the notch was more like 12 feet than 20. I approached my final challenge, an exposed 5.7 crack requiring committing lieback moves. This section wasn't as steep as I expected and although it did require a few lieback moves, there were large intermittent footholds and it wasn't sustained. With that behind me I knew I was home free. The final 5.6 tower was uneventful, and before long I was on the class 2-3 terrain that led up to the summit. It had taken me 3 hours, 30 minutes to climb the route. In another 30 I would be at the summit.

There were still no signs of other parties once I topped out. The views of the Palisades were spectacular as always. After the requisite summit register session I headed down, hoping I'd easily find the Contact Crack downclimb. The route was well cairned and I remembered that the crack lay to the left of the usual rap station. Once at Contact Pass I made the mistake of descending too close to Temple Crag (hoping I could get in a glissade) and traversing the loose moraine debris to reach more stable ground. I was happy to be back on the more stable talus field and even more so back on the trail. I cruised back down to my car stopping only to take a photo for some guys from Bakersfield. They asked if I'd been hiking. I pointed to Temple Crag and said "See that ridge in the middle. I just climbed it." They were shocked. I hurried back to the trailhead, hoping to get back close to our Temple Crag time. I clocked in at 10:55, just 6 minutes short.

finding light on dark shadows

2009-06-30T23:28:00.001-07:00

note: This trip report also appears on summitpost.

Thursday rolled around and I knew that the only thing that could free my mind from thoughts of work was climbing. A day of sport climbing or a 5-pitch trad route was not going to cut it; I needed to go bigger, so I set my sights on the full 10-pitch version of the classic route Dark Shadows. The vast majority of people climb the 4-pitch version of Dark Shadows and most of guidebooks were spotty on details for the remaining 6 pitches. Jerry Handren’s Red Rocks guide had the most info on the route but provided only vague information about the descent from the Mescalito summit. He made mention of two walk-off options (neither recommended). I knew that we could descend Cat in Hat, that is if we could find our way from the summit to the top of the route. Given our workloads there was no way we were going to beat the late afternoon traffic to Vegas so we didn’t end up getting out of town until 8:30 pm.

Not surprisingly, we didn’t make it to the Pine Creek parking lot until around 10 am. We made the mistake of leaving the main trail too early and had to bushwhack to get back on route. Had we stayed on the trail we would have ended up directly at the base of the climb. No time was lost though because we had to wait for a party of two from Denver/Boulder to finish rapping. They had spent the last hour getting on of their ropes down after it became lodged in a crack (par for the course on many Red Rock raps). We were surprised by the lushness of the canyon vegetation so late in the year. The rope soaking pools of water were still present at the base of the route.

At 11:15 I started up the first pitch, a bolted slab. One of the CO crew kindly yelled up that I could link the first two pitches. The second pitch was a 5.6 polished dihedral. I wasn’t quit ready to commit to smearing on the slick rock so I used the crack and edges for my feet. At the traverse to the belay I was halted by a party of two from Tacoma, WA, who were just finishing a rap to the second belay. They originally said they were from Seattle until I disclosed that I grew up in a redneck town close to where they lived. After ~20 minutes the belay ledge was free and Jascha headed up.

The next pitch had a short 5.8 crux early on, forcing me to place gear on a somewhat tenuous hand jam. Fortunately, the climbing eased up higher in the crack and face holds saved me from smearing on the polished walls. Pitch 4 followed a left leaning, narrowing crack. I was unable to get any pro in the main crack but found a reasonable placement in a smaller crack. I was thankful because the next set of moves felt off-balance. I set up a belay on the standard pitch 4 anchors. As I waited for Jascha to come up I looked at what I thought was the path ahead. Above and to the left of me was a seam with two pieces of fixed pro that led to a crappy white sandstone roof which looked devoid of any jugs from below. All of this was accompanied by pretty much non-existent footholds. Once Jascha arrived I consulted my route description. I was pleased to learn that I was at the wrong anchors for the extended route, so I had Jascha traverse around the corner to the correct belay.

Pitch 5 started off with a bolt leading to a juggy roof, then up a crack to an anchor on a pillar. Handren’s description wasn’t specific about which of the 2 pillars to choose, but I ended up correctly selecting the one on the left. By now I was fully exposed to the elements. The wind made communication difficult, but it also made the temperature more pleasant under the blazing June Vegas sun. The quality of the rock wasn’t as good as the lower sections; I was now climbing on the softer white sandstone, although some of the coveted brown varnish remained. Unlike the lower pitches the anchors weren’t set up for a rap, although someone had created an ad hoc one with webbing through the bolt hangers. I suspected we’d have to find another way down.

The description for the next pitch mentioned a step across to a chimney protected by a bolt and a piton. From my vantage point I couldn’t see any fixed protection. I had 2 options, a wide chimney on the left that offered no good gear placements and a narrower off-width to the right. I chose to climb the face between, using the right-hand crack for pro. Higher up I found a bolt to the right of the crack. I found the alcove as described and made the traverse up and left to a now single bolt anchor.

Pitch 7 started off with a finger crack and ended with a small ledge below a roof. Not finding many opportunities for gear placement at the ledge I continued up the next pitch to the right of the roof and on to a series of shrubby ledges. I set up a belay just below the first ledge, but as I feared Jascha could barely hear me with the terrain between us and the gusty winds. Eventually he figured out that he was on belay and headed up. Once he arrived we took down the anchor and scrambled up to the official belay at the base of twin cracks up and to our left. The next pitch followed the twin cracks and ended with a single bolt anchor on a large ledge. Handren described this as 110’ but it was closer to 80’.

We were making good time, but I tried not to be overly optimistic given what I’d read about the difficulties of the descent. The description for the final pitch mentioned a facing-corner to huecoed roof. To my left was a white-sandstone dihedral ending at a blank-looking slab traverse to a roof. To my right was a varnished, shallower, but also right-facing corner, which led more directly to the roof. I chose left. As I approached the roof I could see good edges on the slab traverse (maybe next time). I found a horizontal crack to place a cam below my final stance before starting the roof, but then nothing to protect the roof moves. Fortunately, the roof revealed sizeable handholds and a spot for an excellent nut placement once I stood up at the lip. I scampered up the remaining terrain and before long I topped out on the large ledge about 150’ below the summit. Jascha soon followed, and we finished the last pitch in just under 5 hours.

After a rest we packed up the rope and looked for a way up to the summit. We found a series of ramps interconnected with short 5.7-8 sections. Once we topped out we looked at the task ahead. I knew the approximate location of Cat in the Hat, but not what the buttress looked like from above or how to navigate the ramp systems to get down to the appropriate level. We found a bolted anchor with UV damaged webbing, but decided to look for something better. After getting cliffed out a few times trying to find the top of Cat in the Hat we headed along on the summit plateau up the canyon. Eventually we encountered a series of cairns. I had read about several walk-offs so I figured there was a good chance that they marked the path down. From time to time the path disappeared into the bushes. The cairns wound around the plateau and eventually led down a series of ramps on the north side of the formation. We thought we were on the descent trail until the cairns ended abruptly at the edge of a cliff.

Fortunately, we were not the first to cliff out there and there was a fairly new tri-cam/nut/tree anchor. To be on the safe side we set up a double rope rappel and headed down. The ledges were covered ferns and large trees. Once we were done with the first rap I waited to make sure the ropes pulled cleanly then headed down to scout our next rap. Though difficult to see from above I found the second rap station and we headed down to the canyon floor. We were ~10 minutes upstream from the start of the route. It took both of us pulling to get our ropes down, but thankfully they pulled cleanly. We walked over gnarled tree roots, past frog-filled pools, and back to the car.

more like it

2009-06-13T10:41:00.000-07:00

After anxiously waiting for a break in the t-storms, last Sunday we saw our chance to head back to Tahquitz. We had our sights on The Long Climb (with the Wong variation). Our prior trip to Tahquitz involved a major traffic jam on Whodunit, so I was hoping for an additional parting of the crowds to return to our normal pace. Our original plan was to go on Monday, but after checking the weather forecast Sunday seemed like a better choice. Consequently, we didn't leave L.A. until 10:30 am.

I made a last minute decision to ditch my #4 Camalot in the car despite the 'gear to 3.5"' recommendation. It had been an intensive month of work for both of us and I was feeling lazy about carrying extra gear. We started up the route around 1:30 pm seeing only one party several pitches up. As usual there were quite a few people on Whodunit, but nothing like Memorial Day weekend.

Right off the ground I realized that there would be no easing into the grade on this route. It was solid 5.8. My brain was having a hard time adjusting focus from search engine optimization to gear placement and my erratic sleep schedule wasn't helping. I was feeling far from efficient, but I wasn't ready to give up quite yet and pressed onward. At the top of the pitch I selected the left-hand belay to get longer range view of the path ahead. Mummy Crack loomed above me and I hoped that I wouldn't regret leaving my #4 cam in the car.

I prepped Jascha on how to haul his pack (as recommended in the summitpost description) and headed up. I was pleased to discover a nice slot which started out just inside of the crack. This allowed me to climb it more like a lieback instead of doing grovelly chimney/offwidth moves. The only caveat was that the slot angled further into the crack the higher up I went until I could barely reach it. I set my belay slightly short and to the left of the usual spot near the left-facing corner to take full advantage of the sun. With the wind and passing clouds it was starting to get chilly. My belay spot gave me a great vantage point to watch the various parties on Whodunit. The downside was that the gear placements were a bit shallow and sparse. Jascha started up and was having difficulties with his pack getting stuck in the crack below (and out of his reach), so he decided to fully weight the rope to haul up the pack and wear it. It took all of my strength (and a few leg wraps) to hold his 230 lbs while he fidgeted with his pack for what seemed like 10 minutes. OK, so in retrospect my sparse belay was probably not exactly the best plan. I was happy to feel him finally unweight the rope and continue on.

We had several options for the next pitch and I chose the 'crack to slab' option from the route description because it seemed like it required more finesse than burl. The moves turned out to be somewhat tenuous, and I briefly entertained (but abandoned) the idea of traversing back left into the crack. After a few moves I was back on easier ground and soon found the dead mahogany tree that marked the belay.

On pitch 4 I ignored the route description and headed straight up the (5.7+?) crack, which seemed better for rope management. I had a bit of difficultly following the route description afterward, only finding one pine tree above instead of the two described. I decided to keep going to the next ledge and found the broken piton in the corner as noted in the route. From below I had trouble believing that this was 5.8, but I got a solid nut placement next to the piton to protect the awkward moves.

I finished the climb by going up and slightly right, topping out near the top of Maiden Buttress. I could see where one of the large blocks up top had recently slid off the top (scary). Jascha had a hard time hearing me yell 'on belay', but eventually got the message and headed up. He topped out ~5:15 pm, much better than the >7 hours it took us to get through the Whodunit clusterf**k. It was just the break we needed to get through the next project push.

taste of tuolumne

2009-05-26T21:37:00.001-07:00

Memorial Day weekend rolled around and Jascha and I were both deeply entrenched in meeting project deadlines. A 3 day climbing trip was out of the question and I was craving multi-pitch trad, so Tahquitz was an obvious choice. With its high quality granite Tahquitz is like a mini-Tuolumne Meadows a mere 2 hours from our house. I had picked out the classic 7-pitch 5.9, Whodunit, knowing full well that we might be waiting in line. The route was first climbed as an aid route (5.8, A1) in 1957 by Joe Fitschen and Royal Robbins, then in 1966 freed by Tom Higgins and Bob Kamps.

We got a relatively late start for our endeavor, leaving the house at 7:30 am. In retrospect, barring a 4:30 am departure, we made the right choice. The group of 3 in front of us had apparently arrived much earlier only to sit and wait in line for an extended time behind several other parties. Nevertheless, it was frustrating to watch them refuse to start a pitch until the follower had left the belay above. It wasn't like they were flying up the rock and for some reason there was always a 15+ minute delay from the time their leader(s) yelled "off belay" to when they were ready for the others to start following. To top it off one of the guys was a fairly new leader so that took even longer. I guess it could have been worse; it was a pleasant 75F and we spent our time lounging on pristine granite cliffs.

The first crux was on pitch 1 and entailed pulling an overlap on a very thin finger crack with friction holds for feet. For once I was thankful to have small fingers/hands and with that I was lucky to get in an occasional finger lock. The set of TCUs that Jascha bought me for my birthday came in handy. I didn't attempt any heroics like using only passive gear. Unfortunately, we weren't able to link pitches 1 and 2 because the parties above us refused to do so.

The next pitch transitioned from slab to dihedral and brought us to a cushy ledge below the chimney, where we sat waiting for at least 45 minutes. To pass the time we watched another party of 3 on The Consolation (also 5.9), and from whom we learned the classy phrase "Shut your whore mouth." Despite looking sketchy, the soloist we had seen earlier on The Long Route (I think) pulled through and was now far out of our view.

Finally, it was our turn for the chimney, which I knew held an awkward 5.9 "mental crux" to exit the combo chimney/roof. Fortunately, there was a comfy stem leading up to it. I managed to get a good nut placement to protect the exit move (so much more satisfying than a cam). At first glance the move looked improbable. It involved reaching way behind for an offwidth, thankfully made easier by a wide stem. The next set of moves weren't exactly confidence inspiring but I made it up to the next belay without a fall. I was entertained by Jascha's grimaces as he approached the anchor.

The next pitch started off with parallel cracks which offered the choice of a hand or a finger crack. I alternated between them. At the top I wasn't sure which way to go and opted for a somewhat sketchy traverse to a small pillar. Jascha yelled up to me that he saw something red fly by; I had a strong suspicion that it was either my Omega Link cam or my C4 Camalot. When Jascha arrived I realized that I had lost my ~1 year old C4, which must have come unclipped from my gear slip when I was leaning against the left side of the dihedral. I was most annoyed when I realized that I had just missed the last round of gear sales and was looking at ~$65 full price to replace it.

I was starting to realize that all of the pitches so far were fairly sustained at 5.7+. Pitch 5 was no exception and provided me with a tenuous reach for a sort of jug. After having my foot slip off once I reset my nut to reduce the potential of decking on the ledge below. Once again we caught up with the party of 3. I figured we had another 2+ pitches ahead of us, but was pleased to learn that the piton marking the last 5.8 section was just above us. I ran the rope out just below the summit, so when Jascha arrived I had him lead the final friction slab section. We made it on top ~7 pm, >7 hours after we started (we usually average 30 min per pitch for almost full rope length pitches). Oh well.

We picked up my pack and made it back to the car in time to watch all of the Idyllwild restaurants close. All in all it was a stellar route, and we're anxiously looking forward to a repeat trip on a less crowded day.

close encounters with the fowl

2009-04-11T07:42:00.001-07:00

In early February I ended my planned 12+ month corporate hiatus a few months early after landing a technical project manager job in the Enterprise Architecture group of yellowpages.com, thanks to a referral from Andy. Three weeks later Jascha and I started moving into a rental house in the Highland Park neighborhood of Los Angeles. Initially it seemed like a great find - dark hardwood floors, two bedrooms (one for gear storage) with a spacious living area, plus a kitchen with a ton of counter space, garden space, on a dead-end road, and most importantly, biking distance to work. This would be my first permanent dwelling since placing most of my belongings in storage and leaving for Bishop last April.

Then came the dark clouds. To our horror we started hearing crowing coming from what seemed like our backyard starting around 6a. I was unable to go back to sleep once they started, and to top it off I started having problems going to sleep at night. Great, this is exactly what I needed for my new job. Let me state for the record that although their brains are the size of peas, I don't mind chickens. In fact, I kind of like them. Any visit to the Tri-County Fair merits a requisite stop at the chicken pens. I even recently owned a book on chicken breeds. This, however, is a far cry from living next door to roosters.

I went online and learned that L.A. does not have a law banning roosters, only one that states they must be maintained at least 100 feet from a neighboring dwelling. Walking to the back of our yard it was clear the roosters were no more than 35 feet from our bedroom. I also read that people's complaints to Animal Control often go unanswered, so I had no expectations of a resolution. Upon emailing my landlord she told me that she was aware that there were roosters before we moved in, but she "did not think they were a problem". I was furious because had we known about the roosters we would not have moved in, but to give her credit she was willing to help.

We both started calling Animal Control on 2 March. The initial complaints trigger a letter to the address with a 15 day warning to remove the animals. I followed up periodically (each time having to call back repeatedly to get through and/or waiting on hold for up to ten minutes) and around day 10 they agreed to send out an officer the next day to issue a verbal warning. The start of daylight savings time and the lengthening days only exacerbated the issue. The first crows would start sometimes as early as 3:40a. Two days later I called back. They initially claimed the officer had gone to the address and had removed the roosters. I said that was interesting because I heard them the day after they were supposedly removed. Next they told me we had provided the wrong address and no roosters were present, and if they send someone out again and don't find any roosters we had no recourse. A fine example of your tax dollars hard at work.

Thoroughly annoyed I rode my bike home from work, grabbed my camera, climbed through the back fence and took photos of the beasts. There were also maybe a dozen hens loose in the yard, quietly clucking away. I drove over to animal control with a letter containing a printout of my photos and a map of the address. I wrote that the hens were not of concern. At this point I considered finding another place to live until the situation was resolved. Thankfully Jascha went to Austin for 9 days and didn't have to deal with my insomnia-induced stress.

Finally Animal Control came out on 17 March and issued a two-day warning. My landlord met me at the house and her boyfriend went by to talk to the owners, who agreed they would "be finding homes for the roosters". I could see light at the end of the tunnel. Three days later we were unable to get through to Animal Control. That evening I arrived home from work to find them still there. I was supposed to go to climbing at Joshua Tree with Dave that weekend, but I was so exhausted I could barely think and I didn't think it would be a good idea to be leading trad.

Monday my landlord and I both attempted to call Animal Control, but found that they was another of the days they don't bother to answer the phones. On Tuesday she went by and spoke to one of the officers to confirm that they would pay a return visit that week. Wednesday evening (22 days from our initial call to Animal Control) I returned home to find the roosters still there, but much to my amazement there were no crows on Thursday morning. Once again I crawled back through the fence and saw that the coops and all chickens had been removed. I didn't see any signs of a massive slaughter, so I figured they all found new homes. I wasn't sure why the hens were also removed, but I wasn't going to worry about it.

It took me another few weeks to mostly kick the insomnia. Yesterday morning I awoke to find a lone hen in our driveway of the same breed as I found in the neighbor's backyard. I had no idea where the hens were now living. Jascha helped me corner it and I picked it up and walked down the street toward the rooster house. Their gate was locked. A man in old Toyota van saw me and rolled down his window. He looked interested in the hen, so I handed it to him. He put it on his lap and drove off.

delusional ultra thoughts

2009-01-27T18:19:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again when I start obsessing about my various outdoor goals for the year. I've already gone under the knife once for running-related injuries and I still have occasional hip tendonitis, but I enjoy grueling hill climbs and technical downhills. Naturally my thoughts turn to racing again. Having a bunch of very encouraging ultrarunner friends doesn't help. My thought train is somewhat along the lines of: Maybe I could just do 50Ks, but I used to do 50Ks as training runs. I could probably do an occasional 50M. It's training for AC100 that did me in. Or, I could the low mileage plan. It's a slippery slope.

At any rate I promised myself I wouldn't jeopardize my climbing pursuits by trashing myself running, so to kick off my new plan (and last few days of occupational free agent status) I decided to do a "short" run in the San Gabriels. Jascha and I had tried to do this ~14 mile loop (with at least 3700' of gain) before but got rained out. The run/hike starts and ends at Lake Avenue in Pasadena and follows Sam Merrill trail up and over Echo Mtn. to Mt. Lowe, which once housed a tramway. I've been on middle Sam Merrill several times previously, as it's part of the AC100 course, and it's one of my favorite local trails. Unfortunately, Jascha couldn't join me this time because of work and affliction with an intestinal flu, which we will blame on Pez & Pezlet Hansen ;), who were both recovering from the flu during our Sunday visit.

I made good time on lower Sam Merrill, despite getting passed by 2 guys who were running to Echo Mtn. and back. The skies were clear and sparkling blue and I recognized the tree under which we huddled during the downpour and the spot where we'd previously turned around on middle Sam Merrill. It was a bit chilly in the forested section (one of my favorites) that passes several granite outcroppings. I wondered if part of the reason I like this section is that it marks the end of the climb out of Idlehour on the AC100 course that seems to go on forever, known by some as the longest 3 miles you'll ever do. At the junction with the Mt. Lowe I stopped to assist a guy (with a topo map) who mistakenly thought he was at Markham Saddle, then headed over the the Mt. Lowe loop.

I took the E trail first and passed several patches of trail that were dusted with snow. The top of Mt. Lowe has some remnants of the old railway, including a collection of peak location aids. I could clearly see Mt. Baldy in the background. On the 7 mile descent I took the W trail to complete my loop. It was a fun downhill with some rocky sections. I backtracked on Sam Merrill (a most excellent descent) to Lake. I look forward to many repeats.

cutting our losses

2009-01-08T09:53:00.001-08:00

Two months into our planned 3 month trip to India and SE Asia we were having difficulties entertaining ourselves. We missed the varied climbing and trails back home, and the steep limestone sport routes on friable rock weren't cutting it. Initially we had hopes that each new city/country would be different, but instead we found similar temples, similar food, and similar people preying on the tourists. We still had Vietnam and Myanmar to go, but we were doubtful we would find anything different. Just before Christmas I started having insomnia. When we finally admitted to each other that we were bored out of our minds it was a relief.

Now we had to figure out our options. In my usual style I drew out a flow chart with the pros, cons and tasks associated with each of the paths. We contemplated skipping Myanmar and heading back to Vang Vieng to help the locals rebolt one of the walls or heading home to climb at Red Rocks or J-tree. I drew out a matrix of what cost we were willing to bear if we could get back to the States at various intervals preceding our original return date (6 Feb). I had purchased return tickets online and we were getting the runaround from our S Korea-based airlines (Asiana) about the ability to change the ticket and whether they would issue a refund. It didn't help that we couldn't get a hold of the online booking service because of the New Year's holiday. Finally we managed to get most of our Asiana ticket refunded (or at least a promised refund) and for a few hundred dollars more a flight home on ANA in less than a week.

Once we got back to L.A. we spent two days adjusting to the time change and pulling together our climbing gear. Then we hopped in the car and headed off to Red Rocks with spring-like temps predicted. I felt like crap for the first 2 days with my jet lag and preceding weeks of insomnia, but on the third day we set off for Olive Oil. After an inadvertent detour on the approach we ended up at the base of the route behind Robyn and Mike. Robyn is one of the few lucky individuals to have found regular employment in Bishop. It was nice to be on towering sandstone again. The first part of the route was uneventful although I overshot the 4th belay and had to downclimb to the ledge. The next pitch had a long chimney. As it narrowed I had to climb the neighboring face to get through with my pack. We took in the views before heading down the descent trail.

The next climb we did was a link-up between Johnny Vegas and Solar Slab. Together they make up 9-11 pitches (depending on where you set your belays), but (as we found out the hard way) with its rope eating cracks and edges it sucks up precious winter daylight. Solar Slab was old school 5.6, in contrast to the more modern (easy for the grade) routes we'd been doing. We ended up skipping the final pitch of Solar Slab when the route became shaded and a frigid wind picked up. This was fortunate, as our rope became stuck multiple times and I had to do some somewhat sketchy soloing to remediate the situation. We ended up at the bottom of the route just as total darkness fell.

The next day we caught up with Masa and Chris at Kim Pho Long, who were visiting from Vancouver, B.C. They were unsympathetic to our whining about the cold, although they too had rope issues on their descent. They were planning to return the next day to extract their rope from the first pitch. Masa was originally supposed to accompany us on our Enfield tour, but hadn't received permission from India's tourism department to write up the story for a Canadian magazine. We filled them in on our Asia adventures. Jascha had booked us at the posh Palms Place for a few nights as a belated b-day present for me, a far cry from my undergrad days of shivering in a tent at the old Red Rocks campground.

Next on our list was Birdland, the same route that had eaten Masa's and Chris'. With our 70m rope the route went quickly. The 5.7+ final finger crack on the last pitch was particularly choice. We were also fortunate to spend the last few pitches and entire rap watching a herd of 5 female bighorn sheep who weren't particularly disturbed by our presence. They remained near the base of the route even after we finished our rappel.

I decided to do something a bit harder, so we set our sites on Armatron, a route on the somewhat remote (N) Brownstone Wall, known for unique tile-like rock formations. I was a bit worried when we left the car at 9:20a, but we shaved 20 minutes off the lower estimated approach time on our topo. There was another party on Rainbow Wall and one on Cat Scratch Fever (S Brownstone Wall). We received our introduction to the tiles on the bolted first pitch. The crux came early on the second pitch. The finger crack preceding it took bomber nut placements and the crux itself (a thin traverse to another crack system) was protected by a bolt. The next two pitches were almost exclusively on the tiles and I doddled trying to find the infrequent solid nut placements. Technically the route ends after pitch 4, but it is recommended that you do the final pitches of Requiem for a Tadpole then top out on Juniper Peak. This has the added advantage of a quick walk-off descent. Even though I was trying to exclusively use nuts for pro, I happily used one of the new TCUs Jascha bought me for my b-day at the last belay. We found a fun exposed class 4 traverse just below the summit and topped out. After locating the correct gully (the cairns had likely fallen during the last snowstorm) we headed down. The party on Cat Scratch Fever looked like they might be at it still as darkness fell, but they didn't appear distressed. I was happy that we were heading down in the daylight as there were still patches of ice on the approach slabs.

I had a job interview in a few days back in L.A., so we got in one last day of climbing in Calico Basin. I'm not exactly back in sport climbing condition, so I picked out Ultraman Wall for its 5.8-5.9 runout slab climbs (which Jerry Handren categorizes as mixed routes b/c they are "too runout to be sport climbs"). They did not disappoint, especially Speedracer, a 140' 5.8+ with ~17 feet between bolts requiring multiple moves off of tiny slopers. We had a fairly lazy last day aside from our worked fingertips. It was nice to be once again be home.

back on the sharp end

2008-12-29T01:34:00.000-08:00

After a few uneventful days in Vientiane, the tiny capitol of Laos, we caught the decrepit locals’ bus, along with five bags of pig feed, several stacks of carved railing, and 2 chickens, bus to Vang Vieng. On the bus a youngish looking man handed Jascha his HIV test results, which were written in English, and looked at him quizzically. Jascha tried to tell him the results were good, which he didn’t understand. I grabbed my Lao phrasebook and told him several times in my feeble Lao sans intonation, “Jow bor mee HIV (You no have HIV).” Although he nodded, I’m not sure if he understood, and I lacked the vocabulary to state the correct interpretation, namely: “The results indicate that you do not have detectable antibodies to HIV. This could either mean you do not have HIV or that your exposure was recent enough for you not to have sufficient antibodies to HIV at the moment. If you think you have been potentially exposed to HIV (e.g. through unprotected sex or needle sharing) then you should get tested again at three months from the date of exposure to confirm your status. For the future results to be accurate, in the interim you will need to eliminate any potential exposures (e.g. through the use of condoms or using clean needles).” Oh well.

Vang Vieng is touted as the “adventure destination” in Laos. If by adventure you mean rope swings and tubing down the river from bar to bar then this is your place. The streets are choked with load, drunken Euros, Aussies, and Americans and the bars in town televisions blare episode after episode of obnoxious sit-coms, like Friends. We came here to check out the climbing areas. The local shop informed us that the area we had chosen from our guidebook, Tham Nam Them, was supposedly closed due to corroded bolts, and advised us to go to the popular Sleeping Wall instead. We rented gear from them for $35 (shoes, harnesses, belay device, chalk bag, rope, climbing pack, and rope bag). Amazingly they had size 15 shoes for Jascha.

The following day we headed over to the climbing area unsure of what we would find. We shared a tuk-tuk with a bunch of women who were taking the climbing class. It took a while to get everyone rounded up and into the vehicle, then at our stop we had to wait to get a boat to shuttle us a across the river. The main climbing area sits behind one of the many riverside bars set up for the tubing crowd and it didn’t take long for some frat boy types to arrive.

Once across the river we decided to hit the moderate Secret Canyon, as we hadn’t climbed in over 2 months and we weren’t certain of how the ratings would compare. We headed off down one of the narrow trails into the jungle and before long came to the area. The 5.10s felt easy with the exception of a long route with the overhang just before the anchor where I felt my lack of climbing endurance kick in. The ratings turned out to be as soft as the routes were dirty. Silt covered the less used routes and at times we had to push vines out of our face. The anchors were bolts looped with a ratty piece of climbing rope and a beefy rap ring. At least they were all equalized. I later asked the guy at the climbing shop why they didn’t use chain anchors and he said the rope was better (likely meaning cheaper and easier to replace).

Around 1p we headed over to the main area. One of the guides was leading a route in his flip flops, simultaneously trying to explain to his inexperienced belayer how to use an ATC. We chatted with some Germans who had purchased an entire climbing rack in Krabi. They told us they heard the rock was better in Chiang Mai (where we would be headed in less than a week). As we had read, they confirmed the Krabi pro was suspect with the UV and salt water damage, but they said they enjoyed being able to lie around on the beach between climbing. I smiled politely; I hate the beach.

I decided to push my luck and try an 11a, which was a somewhat contrived route linking up some slung handlebar holds and an easier route with a bolted slightly overhung traverse. I should have known better. The holds on the traverse were sharp and not positive. I tried it twice and Jascha tried it once with no luck. In Dave Hansen style I ended up removing my gear except for the first traverse bolt (which freaked out the Germans), traversed below the bolt line and up the easier route to the anchors, clipping only the anchors. It was a bit of a chore, but with Jascha pulling on one of the ropes I was able to swing over on rap to grab the remaining draw. We did a few more routes in Secret Canyon and headed back to the climbing shop with the group. So it wasn’t spectacular climbing on pristine rock, but it was entertaining nevertheless.

conquering the loop alpine style

2008-12-23T05:36:00.000-08:00

Our second visit to Bangkok brought us to the Siriraj teaching hospital's parasitology, pathology, and forensics museums (special thanks to Paul A. for the recommendation). The exhibit included lovely blown glass models of Giardia lamblia and Plasmodium falciparum (unfortunately photography is not allowed). The forensics museum was delightfully morbid and contained a variety of anatomical specimens, crime scene evidence, and mummified bodies of convicts. A special exhibit was devoted to tsunami victim treatment and forensics, including detailed models of septic wounds and the debridement process.That night, after our Lumpini Park runs, we braved the dirty old man/bar girl area one street over from our hotel to find the nam kao tod lady (sadly absent). The scene was surreal - lady boys and bar girls feigning interest in drunk, unattractive (mostly white) men while Muslim families paid money to feed the captive elephants in front of the massage parlors.

The following morning we caught an early flight to Ubon Ratchathani, then caught a bus to the sleepy Thai/Laos border town of Mukdahan. Our spacious hotel room at the newish Submukdahan Grand Hotel was a steal at 500 baht. We lucked out in that our visit coincided with Mukdahan's Red Cross festival. We walked out of our hotel to scores of teenagers performing Thai traditional dances accompanied by a light show, fog machine, and bubbles. The night market was brimming with vendors and behind it was a carnival with rides, a shooting (as in 0.22 caliber) range, lounge singers, and a flashy, Sparkle Motionesque talent contest.

The next morning we left for Savannakhet , Laos, just across the Mekong. From Savannakhet we were blessed with the experience of being one of 19 passengers + 1 driver crammed into a 10 seater van. After a grueling (yet comical) 2 hours we arrived at our destination in Tha Khaek. Our room at the Tha Khaek Travel Lodge was huge, with a palatial bathroom as big as some of our prior hotel rooms. We had come to Tha Khaek like most people to ride "The Loop", a popular 3-4 day motorcycle street/dirt tour popularized in Lonely Planet. Initially I thought we should allocate 2 days for the trip, but after reading the trip reports I thought it would be an entertaining challenge to try and do the 360 km ride in a day. In the hotel log book I read one guy's account of finishing the ride in just under 24 hours, which included an overnight stay en route, but could find no other sub-24 hour entries. We were unsuccessful in finding anything around town better than the usual crappy 100cc Chinese scooters. At least they appeared to start within the first minute most of the time, unlike our Enfields. We attempted to get to sleep early, not an easy task with Laotian lounge music blaring from the bar down the road.

We set out just before 6 am with food, water, a pump, and a tool kit. We had left our riding gear with the exception of our helmets at our hotel in Bangkok, so I donned multiple layers to stay warm. The sun was just rising over the karst towers as we left town. We made good time on the first ~40 km of paved roadway and graded dirt road. On the bumps our bikes rattled like the cheap plastic pieces of scrap they were. We made a brief detour through Ban Oudomsok after missing a turn. The next ~40 km held more dusty graded road. At one point we ended up behind a guy in civilian clothing sporting an AK-47. I decided not to try and pass. Thankfully he turned off after a few kilometers.

After the Ban Tha Long bridge we encountered a long line of trucks. Having recently attending Indian driving school we cruised to the front, hoping to squeeze through on the shoulder. A tree had fallen across the road and a road crew of ~5 people was busy clearing a path through the thick branches. Amazingly, there were at least 40 people on both sides standing around watching. I was timing our Loop attempt, so I decided to help out to get us moving again. Finally a few other bystanders pitched in and a path was cleared. This set us back by an hour. I tried to make up time on the next, more technical section of road and dumped my not so off-road machine twice, breaking off a mirror on the second spill.

Eventually we made it back onto the pavement around Lak Sao and I got replacement mirrors for 15,000 kip (~$1.75), including installation. It was ~1 pm and we knew we had 200 km to go, so unless we encountered some major construction of mechanical failure we would be back in Tha Khaek well before dark. The next section of road was spectacular as we wove through limestone towers dripping with lush vegetation. We wondered whether the huge limestone walls held any climbing route potential. The journey back went swiftly, or rather as swiftly as possible on our underpowered bikes which were lucky to hit 90 km/h on the downhills. Jascha had some difficulties in keeping up with me on a scooter made for 100 lb Asians, not 200+ lb Americans, but we rolled into the guesthouse together 9 hours and 48 minutes after we started. We headed to Fountain Square and treated ourselves to some well-earned nam kao (spicy sausage filled with ground pork, rice and glass noodles served with shredded cabbage, fresh herbs, and piquant dressing) and a crepe-like dessert made from a pan fried thin dough wrapped around a scrambled egg, topped with sweetened condensed milk and banana slices.

cambodia's bloody past

2008-12-15T00:00:00.000-08:00

Today is our last full day in Cambodia and I must say that I am very much looking forward to being back in metropolitan Bangkok. We started off the day by visiting another huge market, Psha Thmey, otherwise known as the Central Market. The market contained everything from food and housewares to jewelry and clothing to motorcycle parts. From the great variety of food stalls we selected pan fried glutinous rice cakes with chives (similar to those we had in Bangkok). We also picked up a colorful tray of jellies, sticky rice with jack fruit, and some sort of sweet dough.

Afterward we paid a visit to the Choeung Ek Genocide Center (a.k.a. The Killing Fields), a former longan orchard where 17,000+ men, women, and children were executed by the Khmer Rouge after being accused of treachery. The small area is littered with excavated mass graves, from which ~8,000 skulls have been collected and placed into a memorial stupa. Targets included Buddhist monks, Muslims, educated people, the handicapped, and ethnic Chinese, Laotians, and Vietnamese. Ironically, the leader of the Khmer Rouge, Pol Pot, attended technical school in France (although he was forced to return to Cambodia after failing his exams for 3 consecutive years) and was of both Chinese and Khmer ancestry. To avoid "wasting bullets" prisoners were beaten to death with hoes and iron bars or buried alive. From 1975 to 1979 Pol Pot's regime attempted to transform the society into a fully agrarian state and implemented strict food rationing. As a consequence ~26% of the Cambodian population died, mostly due to poor nutrition, overwork, and inadequate health care. The Vietnamese overthrew the Khmer Rouge government in 1979.

On the way back we passed the building containing the hideous xmas light display (including an animated volcano shooting snowflakes) we saw the night before and whose name was was not visible in the dark. That's right, your tax dollars are hard at work to run the light show at the US Embassy.

the hunt is over

2008-12-14T05:56:00.000-08:00

After days of fruitless searching and having to resort to Indian food, yogurt with muesli, and European style baked goods, we finally hit the Khmer food jackpot today at the food stalls next to Psha Toul Tom Poung (a.k.a. Russian Market) in Phnom Penh. We were pleased to find babar (congee) and num banh xeo (rice pancakes) with bean sprouts and ground pork, along with excellent Vietnamese style iced coffee and the usual shaved ice treats. For once the savory items were not loaded with sugar. After sampling a number of dishes I convinced Jascha to walk the 8 km back to our guest house to burn off some extra calories.

angkor death march

2008-12-11T21:26:00.000-08:00

We came to Cambodia for pretty much the same reason everyone visits Cambodia, to see the ancient Khmer ruins north of Siem Reap. The day before the guesthouse guy told us there was no way we could walk there (even after I told him we did 20 mile walks for fun at home), and if we did there would be no available tuk-tuks should we decide to bail. His feeble efforts at pitching tuk-tuk services failed. We were willing to take our chances with not getting transportation back, as I had checked the distances earlier and knew that at most we were looking at a 40 km day max with minimal elevation gain.

After an espresso/bakery stop we set out at 8:00 am. We took a road that paralleled the highway and came across one of the locals' markets, a pleasant change from the souvenir-laden tourist markets that dominate most of the town. After ~3 km we reached the entrance station where we paid our requisite $20 for a day's admission (the same price as a 7 day pass for Yosemite). I wouldn't have minded the hefty fee had a large percentage of it been allocated for the temple upkeep. I knew instead that ~90% would end up in the government coffers (or worse, officials' pockets). We continued down the dusty road for another 2 km past cleared mine fields until we reached the huge moat surrounding Angkor Wat.

The temple entrance is on the west side of the complex, and as we neared it we got a glimpse of the hoards of tourists we would encounter along the way, most of which rode around in air conditioned buses or tuk-tuks and were dropped off at each of the temple entrances. The temple was well preserved considering it was constructed from sandstone (supported by some type of porous volcanic rock) in the mid 12th century, although the upper levels were under construction and off-limits. The temple was transformed from Hindu to Buddhist in conjunction with the conversion of King Jayavarman VII (responsible for much of the secular and non-secular infrastructure at the time), and not surprisingly, much of the Hindu symbols were destroyed. Afterward we picked up excellent locally made mango and coconut sorbet and headed down the road to the ancient city of Angkor Thom.

At Angkor Thom we encountered the first of the massive gates, topped with giant heads. Large scowling stone figures hold up the many headed serpent that makes up the railing of the bridge that crosses the moat. Within the walls of Angkor Thom we passed through the Prasat Bayon temple, which contained some of the best preserved carvings we found on our tour. The Terrace of the Elephants was easy to recognize with its elephant buttresses. We had higher hopes for the small Terrace of the Leper King. Legend holds that at least two Cambodian kings suffered from leprosy; however, according to historians it is more likely that the statue that tops the terrace represents Yama, the god of death. Personally, I think the leper king story is much more intriguing.

From Angkor Thom we continued northward to Preah Khan, originally a monastery dedicated to the father of Jayavarman VII. The Buddhist imagery was vandalized during the reintroduction of Hinduism in Cambodia. The vendors at the less visited temples were eager for tourist dollars and every tourist exiting the temple was greeted with a chorus of “Sir/Lady, I have cold water for you. Only $1”. Even tiny children were out in full force pushing post cards and trinkets. After the 20th sales pitch, I had to remind myself that the region is very economically depressed and the vast bulk of the locals' income comes from the tourist trade. From Preah Khan we had two options: a) continue on the 26 km grand loop back to the turn-off to Siem Reap or b) head back to Angkor Thom and do the 17 km mini loop. We decided that the mini loop sounded more realistic given the remaining daylight hours.

From Angkor Thom we left the city through the eastern Victory gate and before long came across Ta Keo. Built in the late 10th/early 11th century in dedication to the Hindu god Shiva, it is the first temple in the region to be constructed entirely of sandstone. Unlike the other temples we visited Ta Keo is unfinished. A steep staircase (bordering on Class 3 with its uneven, narrow sandy ledges) led to the top of the highest tower. As we walked along the forested roads we were serenaded by the loud and strangely electronic-sounding drone of cicadas (I think), much like an alarm system. I couldn't imagine what it was like for the road maintenance workers to have to listen to that maddening noise all day long.

We (stupidly) skipped Ta Prohm, not realizing it is the famous overgrown temple complex (although we got a taste of it at Preah Khan), and headed back toward Siem Reap, passing cow fields and tiny villages on the way. One of the local riding a motorcycle asked us why we were walking (we never saw anyone else walking the loop) and couldn't understand Jascha's answer of “for exercise”. At the turn-off for Siem Reap with darkness falling we decided that it was time to cave after 30+ km. We took a tuk-tuk back for the last 5 km.

learning to like cambodia

2008-12-09T23:59:00.000-08:00

Our flight from Suvarnabhumi to Phnom Penh went off without a hitch. There were no signs of the prior weeks' shutdown by thousands of anti-government protesters. Suvarnabhumi is a stunning test piece of modern architecture and we killed time by admiring the acres of elegantly curving glass and metal.

We arrived in Phnom Penh and took a tuk-tuk to our guesthouse, run by a Paul, an Aussie expat of Cambodian heritage. Our original plan was to rent dirt bikes and ride to Siem Reap, but we decided we needed a break from riding after our India adventures. We opted for the more conventional route of an express bus and purchased tickets for the following day. Paul set us up at his friends' guesthouse for one night, as the one we had booked wasn't available until the date we'd scheduled. Compared to the other Asia cities we've visited, Phnom Penh is tiny, the city limits being easily walkable. We set out in search of dinner, not thrilled with Paul's recommendation about a place called, “The Titanic”. He scoffed at us when we said that we would rather eat at the stalls and couldn't imagine it being any more than "dirty" than those we found in the tiny dusty Indian villages.

We didn't see any stalls and ended up at a restaurant supposedly serving Khmer food. We ordered loc lac (a beef dish) and green chicken curry. Both were disappointing – largely devoid of spices – and my loc lac was hideously sweet. I left most of it. On the way back to the hotel we found the night market and street stalls. Unlike Thailand they variety of food was small – mostly BBQ meats (heavy on the organ meats), fried noodles, and fried fish. I found a sandwich cart serving something like a Cambodian version of banh mi and had to investigate. I could have done without the sugary spread and fermented fish paste, but otherwise it was pretty good. The baguette was fresh and I didn't mind the processed meat of unknown origin. Past the BBQ stalls we found something even better – the shaved ice lady. I had green jelly with sticky rice topped with sweetened condensed milk.

The next day we boarded the bus to Siem Reap. The entertainment alternated between dubbed Jackie Chan movies and Cambodian karaoke. ~2 hours into the trip the bus stopped at a large restaurant and we got our usual sandwiches (minus fish paste). The countryside was fairly flat with large areas devoted to rice and lotus cultivation. An occasional cow or water buffalo appeared on the roadside. Many of the houses were built on stilts, for flooding I suspect. I was surprised by the number of political parties advertised, no less than five. Every town showed allegiance to at least one. The Cambodian People's Party appeared to be the most popular, or at least the one with the most signs.

We arrived in Siem Reap where our guest house had arranged a pick up. I had read that prior to 2000 Siem Reap was a sleepy agricultural town and largely a dirt bag backpacker's destination. With the international airport, air conditioned shopping malls and upscale hotels, it's difficult to believe. In contrast to our Phnom Penh location we easily found convenience and grocery stores stocking (for a hefty markup) the amenities we found in Bangkok. I had researched the food scene on the bus trip so we made our way to the Psar Chaa market area. There were the usual BBQ stalls and a series of identically menued and priced fried noodle places. I was able to get mine without sugar, but even with a ton of pepper sauce and the soy sauce I stashed in my bag from Thailand (in anticipation of finding only sweet sauces in Cambodia), my rice noodles were bland. Fortunately, we found a shaved ice stall to make up for it. There are enough historical sites between Phnom Penh and here to kill a solid two days (on our pace), but I'm starting to feel like I scheduled too much time in Cambodia. Hopefully, Angkor Wat will make up for it.

bangkok 8

2008-12-07T03:08:00.000-08:00

For the past 8 days we've been exploring the bustling streets of Bangkok. It's been nice to be parked in one location for a while, especially in a place with excellent public transportation and street food. I am happy to report that I have been reunited with melon Fanta, which I have not seen since my visit to Japan circa 1983, and I have been taking full advantage of the som tam and grilled meat stalls.

The original intent of the one week stay was to allow time to get a visa at the Myanmar embassy for our upcoming visit in January, but the rules have recently changed and visas are now valid for entry dates up 1 month in advance instead of 3. We will have to modify our itinerary to squeeze in a few extra days in Bangkok, but otherwise it's only a minor inconvenience.

The markets here are incredible, sprawling on a scale I have never before experienced. In general goods are of a higher quality and greater variety than India, although there is still a lot of repetition between shops. Of note is the found object sculpture shop in the Jatujak weekend market where various gears, spark plugs, rods, nuts, and chains are MIG welded into mostly detailed Alien-themed designs.

Additionally, we checked out the Corrections Museum (unfortunately, photography is prohibited), which contained a variety of exhibits on torture and execution from medieval times to today. The most unique method was a rattan ball, large enough only to accommodate a crouching man, that would be kicked around by an elephant. Today execution is carried out by lethal injection.

We also took the time to get suits and shirts tailored. The guy that runs the shop, Khavul, is a second generation Bangkok Sikh, who was schooled in the Himalayan foothills of Uttar Pradesh. We went in 4 times for fittings to fine tune everything. He agreed to stash our stuff for another 2 months until our last stop in Bangkok.

This morning we left our red light district hotel for the 1950's style Atlanta Hotel, as recommended by Tricia. It has much more character than our former lodgings, although I miss the variety of street food vendors. After several weeks of chaos and uncertainty, it looks like things are on track for our flight tomorrow to Phnom Penh out of Suvarnabhumi.

india uncovered

2008-12-07T02:38:00.000-08:00

I selected Luce's In Spite of the Gods: the Strange Rise of Modern India as a pithy companion for our travels through India. We witnessed first-hand much of the bureaucracy, poverty, hypocrisy, and chaos described by Luce (former Delhi-based reporter for the Financial Times) in this well researched and well written book. The choice could not have been better.

hello, sexy show?

2008-12-04T21:17:00.000-08:00

We spent our final time on the bikes searching for the Chakravorty (owner of India Bikes) home in a Kolkata suburb. Despite being a Sunday the Indian drivers were in as much of a rush as usual and we were looking forward to being rid of our two-wheeled burdens. On the way back we found a sweet shop serving the local treat, misti doi (sweetened milk curd) as well as payesh, which to me tasted like kheer (my favorite Indian dessert).

The next day things were still looking iffy for opening of the Thailand's Suvarnabhumi International Airport by our scheduled flight date of 02 December, so the day before we paid a visit to the Jet Airways office. They told us that they had a special flight (the first since 25 Nov) arranged that afternoon to the naval airport in Utapao (~180 km from Bangkok), but after that they were uncertain of when they would next fly into Thailand. We decided to take the opportunity and after a kheer stop at a New Market tea house we went back to our hotel to pack.

We arrived at the airport 3 hours in advance as requested and stood in line with the mostly Thais, plus a handful of Indians and Westerners. We didn't have a confirmed seat (only a note scribbled on our e-ticket by the customer service agent), and we weren't completely confident that we would get one, but all worked out. After much anticipation the flight landed in Utapao at 10:15 pm to applause from the Thais. We weren't sure how we would get out of the airport, as the military base wasn't exactly set up for international arrivals and there were no official money changers or ATMs. I had no information on local hotels, so I figured our best bet was to get to Bangkok. The prepaid taxi stall was charging 3500+ bhat ($100+) to Bangkok and unlike Thai Airlines, our Indian-based airline wasn't providing free shuttles to the city. I found an outside taxi for 3000, who would let us stop at an ATM. We got an extra night at our already booked Bangkok hotel and arrived just before 2 am. People were still out and about in the street; we later found out that our guest house is close to the red light district (probably what are taxi driver meant by "bad part of town").

For our first day in Bangkok we headed over to Wat Po for a long overdue Thai massage at the massage school. We were amazed at the number and variety of food stalls on the short jaunt from our hotel to the Sky Train station. We started off with Thai iced coffee and chive dumplings made from glutinous rice flour. The Sky Train ends a few stops from our hotel
at the Central river boat station, from which you can catch a boat to numerous places along the river. At Wat Po we made a beeline for the massage school, figuring that we could catch the main attraction, the massive reclining Buddha, on the way out. Our one hour massages weren't quite up to par with Cathy and Lynn at Pho Siam in L.A., but they were still worthwhile. We checked out the giant shiny gold Buddha and watched as local artisans painstakingly restored the temple murals.

Instead of taking the boat back to the Central station we decided to walk through the maze of stalls that make up the Chinatown markets. The size of the clothing and fabric market alone dwarfed anything we had seen in India. With no aggressive touts or vendors the experience was far more pleasant. We found our way to a district selling a dizzying array of metal and machined parts, then on to the silver jewelry zone before finally reaching the
station. The food stalls near the stop for our hotel had been replaced by stalls selling clothing, CD/DVDs and souvenirs. We returned to our hotel serenaded by a stereo blaring Bon Jovi's Living on a Prayer.

india summary

2008-12-03T17:57:00.000-08:00

Distance logged by Enfield: ~2100 km
Duration: 3 weeks
States: W Bengal, Jharkhand, Bihar, Uttar Pradesh, Sikkim
Major cities: Kolkata, Patna, Varanasi, Gangtok, Darjeeling
Morbidities/Mortalities: 1 tire tube, 1 brake light, 1 pannier frame, 1 tube, 1 horn, 1 brake lever
Police encounters: 2
Number of potholes, cows, and diesel trucks: too many to count

close encounters with the law

2008-12-03T17:38:00.000-08:00

Sadly, the night before our departure from Darjeeling we found a food stall serving delightful egg buns, scrambled egg on toasted rolls with fresh vegetable garnish and topped with your choice of savory sauces. After 3+ weeks in India we both had finally succumbed to intestinal ailments and thought it wise to take a break from spicy and fried foods (not an easy task here). The egg buns were the perfect food. As we were planning to get a late start in the morning to avoid a brutal kick-starting session we vowed to hit the egg bun stall again before we left.
The morning brought blue skies with wispy clouds that provided a lovely complement to the Himalayas. IMHO, those sorts of clouds always provide my favorite backdrop for alpine shots. We did our egg bun run, loaded up the bikes, then set about for the torture session of getting them started. Jascha's bike started up fairly soon, but we each spent ~5 minutes attempting to kick start my bike. The guy at the guesthouse called his brother (who owns an Enfield) to assist, but by the time he arrived Jascha got the bike started.
The ride from Darjeeling to Siliguri travels down beautiful sweeping mountain roads, sections of which reminded me of my hometown in Washington state. Tiny villages cling to the sides of the hills, covered with giant yellow daisy bushes and wild poinsettia. We took our time to both enjoy the scenery and avoid getting slammed by a truck or SUV as we rode around the tight corners. At Siliguri we retraced our route through the tea plantations and across the plains to Malda.
In one of the towns we approached a red traffic light. Traffic laws are inconsistently enforced even with police officers manning the intersection, so we did our usual slow down and see what the locals do. The guy in front of me ran the light so I proceeded to do the same. I had to hesitate because there was a truck going the wrong way around the traffic circle in the center of the intersection (apparently perfectly OK). A police officer stepped out and demanded that I go sit in his office across the street. I was waiting to have to pay a bribe, but after thirty seconds he told me to leave. Moral of the story: if you're going to run a light in front of the police officers don't slow down.
Dusk came and we were still riding. We were growing weary of the endless game of chicken, made even more challenging with the nearly invisible bicyclists, livestock, and pedestrians and blinding headlights from the oncoming vehicles, many of which flash their brights to indicate they are passing. Instead of our previous hotel (with the musty blankets) we decided to check out the posher Golden Park Hotel & Resort on the outskirts of Malda. The snotty staff kept Jascha's driver's license for collateral even though he paid for the room cash up front, which was 1500 Rps (~$32), in other words not exactly the Oberoi. To compound things the hotel restaurant staff repeatedly acknowledged only Jascha, so I left before ordering. This was the only time I've experienced this in India and elsewhere only at the occasional U.S. auto parts store. The only upside to the hotel was centralized hot water. We had survived Darjeeling with bucket cold water, mostly because we were impatient about waiting for the guesthouse staff to boil water for us.
The next morning we got an early start for Kolkata and for once my bike started first. We stopped at a street stall in Murshidabad for a scrumptious breakfast of chai, puris and curry. The roads on this section are atrocious with deep rim tweaking potholes. Shortly afterward we hit the worst traffic jam we've experienced on the trip. There were trucks, taxis, and buses lined up for several kilometers in both directions. We wove in and out of the vehicles and on the shoulder, often directed by the locals. At one point a guy said something to me in Hindi, then reached down and adjusted my idle (par for the course here). Finally, we reached a point where the traffic was moving again in our direction. We never did figure out what caused the traffic jam, but we were happy to be on motorcycles.
We reached Kolkata before dusk, in time to enjoy the remarkably clear skies, a marked contrast from the smog belt we had ridden through starting south of Siliguri. I inadvertently ran another red light, but this time kept going. Jascha and another local followed me, and the police officer tried in vain to stop both with his (beating) cane. Theory confirmed. At another intersection another police officer stopped Jascha for no apparent reason and asked to see his license. Jascha told him that he would have to get it out of his backpack and the police officer told him to continue on. Before long we reached our hotel, showered, then braved the crowded streets for fruit, kesar pista kulfi, and south Indian fare.

a world away, for now

2008-11-27T03:55:00.000-08:00

We called Hotel Broadway in Kolkata to see if we could arrive a day early. They remembered us as "the people on the motorcycles" and said that we could have our same spacious room again. Our current plan is to fly from Kolkata to Bangkok on 2 December, but after learning of the anti-government protests at the Bangkok international airport we will see what happens to our itinerary. We're also hoping that we aren't affected by the foreigner-targeted violence that recently shook Mumbai, but our primary concern for the next 2 days is safely dodging trucks, cars, SUVs, livestock, people, and potholes on our ~700 km journey back to Kolkata. All of this seems a world away in peaceful Darjeeling.

We awoke to another amazing view of Kachendzonga and surrounding peaks and spent our last full day in Darjeeling visiting the Bhutia Basti Monastery. As with the Enchey Monastery in Gangtok the main temple area of Bhutia is currently under construction. Unlike Enchey, however, the walls of Bhutia were covered with elaborate colorful murals. As far as we could tell there weren't any monks onsite other than perhaps the temple caretaker.

In the main town plaza local students from St. Robert's High School were participating in a relay hunger strike in support of a constitutional amendment to endorse the separation of "Gorkhaland" from the state of West Bengal. The movement has widespread support among the town, with shopkeepers placing signs with Gorkhaland over the "W Bengal" text in their addresses. The justification for the secession is the cultural and financial disparity between the regions, the southern region of W Bengal having a much higher percentage of ethnic Indians and being significantly more destitute. I wish them luck.

Jascha adjusted my clutch lever to help keep my tendonitis in check, cleaned our air filters, and ran our engines for a while in hopes of an easier start in the chilly morning air.

ode to the enfield

2008-11-27T03:45:00.000-08:00

> Patching of 6 tube punctures: 150 Rps

> Adjustment of non-functioning horn: 120 Rps

> Pannier frame weld and new brake light cover: 375 Rps

> New fuse: 5 Rps

> Starting your Enfield in less than 20 kicks: priceless

darjeeling, so lovely, so frigid

2008-11-26T05:48:00.000-08:00

After catching up our much needed sleep we set out on foot to explore Gangtok. I had major tendonitis in my left hand from my clutch lever so it was nice to be off of the bikes. The switchbacky town roads are connected by steep stairwells and trails for foot traffic. We made our way to the central market and picked up fruit and locally made Euro style cheese. The people are a diverse mix of Indians, Tibetans, and Nepalese (among other ethnic groups) and it was easy to see why I was waved through the border crossing.

We meandered around, eventually making our way to the Enchey Monastery, which was founded in 1840 by a monk allegedly gifted with the power of flight. Unlike the other major Hindu temples we had visited in Kolkata no one tried to harass us about carrying bags or taking photos. In fact we were free to wander the premises unescorted. The temple contained a Buddha statue as well as some lesser deities. In the courtyard the young monks entertained themselves by playing hacky sack with a bundle of rubber bands. On the return we found a series of paths that quickly brought us back to the main market.

Jascha wanted to try the local cuisine and I wanted to try the popular Indian take on chow mein, so we opted for a cafe serving Indian, Chinese and Sikkimese food. We sampled momos, pakoras, chow mein, and a soup (kawri) with meat, vegetables, and dumplings made from momo dough. The food in this region tends to lack the fire of the south, but there's usually a jar of hot sauce nearby to spice things up.

The next day we decided to get our bikes worked on. My front brake was barely engaging and Jascha's pannier frame and brake light were both broken from Kolkata taxi encounters. Jascha found a place near our hotel that specializes in Enfields. They repaired his bike for 375 Rps ($7.80) and adjusted my brakes at no cost.

Sadly, the next day we had to leave our oasis for Darjeeling. We waited until noon to let the temperatures warm up. It had rained the night before and it took quite some time to start my bike. We passed over the same mountain roads we had ridden on the way to Gangtok, but this time it was light out. The granite boulder strewn river was spectacular as it wound through the forest. Every now and then we saw signs for a random pharmaceutical company. At the border Jascha was again stopped. I was scolded when I went to turn around to join him until the officer figured out I wasn't a local. We closed out our permit and headed out.

We left the main highway for the narrow, twisty road to Darjeeling. At times the hairpin turns were so steep and tight that our bikes threatened to stall. The road wound through tiny villages, tea plantations, and forests rich with lush ferns. By the time we neared Darjeeling we were freezing, but intact save a hole melted in Jascha's riding pants from his exhaust pipe. It took us several inquiries and one encounter with the law (for going the wrong way on a one way street) to find our road. The guesthouse was poorly signed, so we called for directions and the guy waited out front for us. We lucked out in that the roof of the place had gated parking, a rarity in Darjeeling, and an amazing view of Kanchendzonga (the third tallest peak in the world) . We donned our warmest clothes and headed out to the street stalls for onion parathas and potato pakoras. The frigid temps made for an quiet night of reading under our comforters.

The next morning we headed over to the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute, formerly run by Tenzing Norgay (whose remains are located on the site). The displays chronicled the history of Himalayan climbing, focusing mainly on pre-1985. Upstairs was a natural history museum with poorly mounted taxidermy specimens. The ticket included a joint pass to the Darjeeling zoo, which contained a number of (mostly pacing) exotic animals (including clouded leopards, Siberian tigers, and red pandas) in sadly outdated enclosures.

On the way back we visited the Hindu temple (covered with Buddhist prayer flags) which sits on the top of Observatory Hill. We removed our shoes as indicated by the shoe storage area and Indian visitors, but seemed to be the only non-Indian tourists to do so. The garish temple hosts a number of surprisingly inoffensive macaques, contrary to the signs. Not a single one tried to approach us. After another frigid evening in Darjeeling we are seriously contemplating abandoning the lovely scenery a day early for the warmth and spacious accomodation of our Kolkata hotel. Hope our bikes start.

a well deserved respite

2008-11-24T03:39:00.000-08:00

We were dreading the long ride from Varanasi to the Sikkim. I had read an online account of a Westerner that had taken his Enfield on the trains so we decided to look into it. Not surprisingly, the logistics coordination turned out to be almost as laborious as the ride. The shopkeeper from whom I had purchased a kurti said his dad had an Enfield shipped by train so we consulted with him. He told us that we would need to purchase a passenger ticket then get a separate luggage ticket (LT) from the parcel office. He wanted us to use his travel agent, but when we learned that the price for the passenger ticket was 3 times the going rate and that the guy didn't have an actual office we could visit we politely declined. One of the local money changers said that it would be in our best interest to do our ticket purchasing at the actual train station where we could talk to both the ticket agent and the parcel office. There are at least 4 train stations in the vicinity of Varanasi, but he advised us to use the main station as they had a dedicated tourist booking office.

The next day we rode over to the Varanasi train station. We wanted to catch a train from Mugul Sarai station (15 km from Varanasi) to New Jalpaiguri, which is the closest cargo drop point on the line to the Sikkim. The Varanasi parcel office advised us to get our passenger ticket, then head over to the Mughal Sarai parcel office to drop off our bikes a day in advance of our departure. We followed their advice then made our way to Mughal Sarai. The parcel office manager said that bringing our bikes on the train would be “very troublesome” because Varanasi was not the initial loading point and that the train was primarily “for passengers not cargo”. He repeated this several times which we took to mean there was no way in hell we were getting on the train to New Jalpaiguri, so back we went to the Varanasi station.

Our options were to backtrack to Delhi or head SE to Kolkata (actually Howrah station) then ride/take a train north or ditch the train idea altogether. We opted for Kolkata as we were already familiar with the city and there was a hotel we liked. The Varanasi parcel office said that they would have room on the Howrah line the next day and told us to show up 6 hours before the train left. We canceled our Mugul Sarai-New Jalpaiguri tickets and booked new tickets to Howrah, for which we had to pay 600 Rps (~$15) extra because they had already sold out of the tourist quota.

We arrived at Mugul Sarai at our scheduled time and the parcel office told us that they needed copies of our bike papers and that we needed to drain the petrol out of the tanks before we packed them up for transit. I headed off to copy the registration papers while Jascha attempted to get the petrol drained. This took over an hour, but he managed to sell it all for 600 Rps. As I was completing the paperwork for shipping our bikes I noticed that the place from where we were renting (documented on paper as a sale/buy-back) mistranscribed the registration number (i.e. license plate number) for one of the bikes. I was hoping the office wouldn't notice, but of course they did. I had to explain several times that the engine number on the registration papers matched the sales deed and the registration number in the registration papers matched the license plate, but that the registration number on the sales deed was erroneous. They finally let is slide. The packing man carefully wrapped our headlights and seats in burlap, cardboard, and cushioning material secured with various bits of plastic strapping and we rolled our bikes into the parcel office. The whole process took ~2.5 hours.

After a lunch of thalis at one of the local stalls we sat around the train station and killed time by watching the people and monkeys. The train finally road rolled in and the passengers rushed on (I have no idea why given that the train didn't leave for at least 30 minutes and our trip would take at least 13 hours). The seating arrangements were posted outside of the car and were no longer consistent with the printed tickets. This resulted in a number of heated discussions amongst the passengers, including myself.

Jascha and I had booked upper bunks so about 2 hours into the trip we decided to sit up top to avoid the crowds. At almost every stop vendors and beggars would board the train and make their rounds. We had a fitful night as we crammed ourselves around our baggage and I awoke in time for the vegetable cutlet vendor. At the Howrah station we had no idea where to retrieve our bikes as there were multiple parcel services in different buildings. Luckily, I saw one of our bikes being wheeled out. After filling out more paper work, we were sent to another parcel office to inquire about shipping our bikes to New Jalpaiguri, but the passenger seats were full. By this time it was after noon and it seemed unwise to start riding to the Sikkim given our lack of sleep and afternoon traffic. We headed back into Kolkata and visited our favorite kati roll stall.

At 6:30 am we set out for Malda, ~350 km from Kolkata. The ride was uneventful, but long (10 hours). The hotel recommended by the guidebook had been shut down by the government, so we stayed next door. We ate at food stall down the way and paid the tourist price of 60 Rps (~$1.25) for our mutton curry with egg and roti. The next morning we got an early start again and headed north to Gangtok. A few hours into the ride my bike abruptly lost power and I had to pull over. We called one of the guys that runs the Enfield rental company, who told us to check the fuse and if it was blown we could replace it with a wire. We found a spare fuse in the toolkit and set off.

Soon we were in tea plantation country, but much to my dismay my horn completely stopped working. In India a horn is as essential as brakes. Jascha used the multimeter we purchased in Patna to test the horn relay and horns, but we couldn't find the problem. A young Panjabi guy on a tricked out bike stopped to help us and ended up taking us over to an auto electrician. It turned out the horn was out of adjustment. He and his friend bought us chai, soda and biscuits. We paid the electrician 130 Rps ($2.70) and departed.

We passed through Siliguri and a wildlife preserve. The only animals we saw were ever ubiquitous cattle. As we neared the Sikkim the terrain changed drastically and our pace slowed as we rode twisty mountainous roads overlooking a wide blue river. We hesitated to stop and take picture lest we be accosted by the roadside macaques. We noticed that the frequency of agro drivers dropped significantly, which was good as nightfall was approaching. Rangpo marked our official entry into the Sikkim. The border patrol waved me through, but I had to turn around when Jascha was stopped. We registered with the foreigners' office while the border officers had a good laugh about the Kolkata taxis contorting Jascha's now barely attached pannier frame.

We reached Gangtok, which is built on the side of a large steep hill. Fortunately, the kinder gentler traffic paradigm prevailed. The houses were far better maintained than in the other regions we had visited and there were fewer street dogs and no cows. We also noticed a higher percentage of Enfields. I had booked a pricier (than our usual) hotel called The Hidden Forest Lodge, which is fairly far off the beaten path. As usual we struggled to locate our hotel and had to call for directions. The owner's husband and son met us at the gate and had dinner waiting. The craftsmanship of the place was far better than anywhere I had been in India and the surrounding gardens and orchid nursery were well maintained. We knew that we would have a hard time leaving.

wholly varanasi

2008-11-23T05:24:00.000-08:00

We were a day behind schedule due to the Air India luggage "mishandling", but we decided that we couldn't pass up a trip to Varanasi, billed as one of India's holiest cities and I had a keen interest in seeing the funeral pyres. The morning ride went fairly smoothly until we made an inadvertent detour through the town of Bihta. This turned out to be a good thing as I got a flat tire just as we were almost back on the highway. The locals pointed me over to the nearest puncture wallah (fortunately part of my dismal Hindi vocabulary), who found six tiny holes in my tube. Bihta isn't exactly on the standard tourist route and ~50 locals crowded around to observe the entire process.

After 2 hours we got back on the road and made it to where we Varanasi should be according to the mileage markers at dusk. We were once again thwarted by the lack of Indian signage. There were no obvious Varanasi turn-offs or city lights to follow. We ended up backtracking more than once until one of the locals directed us down some random dirt road, which miraculously dumped us out into Varanasi proper. We spent an hour trying to navigate to the guesthouse I had jotted down from the guidebook, then finally called for directions. We were told to head to the university then ask a local for directions to the guesthouse. After another 20 minutes of not finding the university we came upon another hotel and decided to call it quits. We later found out that our original guesthouse was on the ghats and nearly impossible to find during the day, let alone at night, with the maze of alleys.

In the morning we headed down to the ghats. We had chosen well in regards to accomodations, not only because of the its proximity to a number of pakora and Benarasi chicken stalls, but because we were completely out of the foreign tourist zone. The ghat area was choked with Israelis, Japanese, and American tourists and the sadhus, touts and beggars that thrive on them.

We toured the burning ghats and learned about the process, including the various levels reserved for the different castes. We were told that women were forbidden in participating in the ritual because they cry and it disrupts the souls from their journey. Additionally, we were informed that sadhus, pregnant women, children, lepers and animals are not burned. For such a holy river the shores of the Ganges were covered with garbage and even hydrophilic Jascha was not about to dive in. A magical boatride down the river did not sound so appealing.

Later we headed back down to the main ghat for the evening puja, which we were told was a "must see". Not surprisingly, what I expected to be a peaceful event had been turned into a huge spectacle with (bad) speakers blaring music. We ended up leaving early for quieter surroundings.

mela bound

2008-11-23T04:33:00.000-08:00

Due to morning rush hour the final 50 km to Patna took us 2 hours, plus another 1-2 to find our hotel. Unfortunately, this seems to be the norm for navigation in India even with a map. The main point of the Patna detour was to see the Sonepur Mela, which is touted as the largest animal fair in Asia. After our harrowing journey from Kolkata to Patna we decided to ditch the bikes and take a taxi or autorickshaw to the fair. I had read that most of the trading occurs in the days prior to the fair, which officially starts on 13 Nov, so I wasn't sure that we would be able to still see the more exotic fare, like elephants. I had some difficulty in tracking down an actual starting date for the fair because it's based on the Hindu lunar calendar and I had to use the majority rule of the various dates I acquired online.

We were the only non-Indian tourists at the fair and as usual Jascha (being the 6' 6" and very white) received the most attention. The fair was sprawled across the fields surrounding the tiny village of Sonepur and the animals were segregated by type. All of the animals were freshly washed and adorned with colorful bridles, tassles, fabric, or chalk and tusk jewelry in the case of the elephants. The horse area was the largest and there appeared to be two types, a small breed of workhorse, larger in stature to the miniature horses I had seen in the States, and larger show horses. The larger horses were trained for posture and their ear tips were noticeably curved inward. There was some sort of event in progress where yelling men rode the larger horses back and forth down a dirt road at full speed.

We passed through the more sedate cattle area and came upon a huge collection of stalls filled with livestock accessories, food, freak/magic shows, clothing, and the usual kitsch. There were also feeble booths displaying various products and services, notably the Indian military and John Deere, that consisted exclusively of posters and a few men to answer questions. We managed to track down the elephant area, which was the highlight of the fair.

Since Jascha had yet to experience a ride in an autorick we decided to take one for the 22 km back to Patna. Riding in an autorick is the closest thing I have found to being on a motorcycle in terms of being up close and personal with traffic, and our ride back did not disappoint.

crash course in indian driving

2008-11-21T04:47:00.000-08:00

Jascha's bag finally arrived, and after two hours of bureaucracy he managed to retrieve it from the Air India baggage department. This put us a day behind schedule, so for our intro to touring in India we decided to combine our first two days of riding into one and go all the way from Kolkata to Patna, a distance of ~560 km. We would later come to regret this. We got out of the hotel by 7:30 and headed across town to national highway (NH) 2. It took us 2 hours to get to the outskirts of the sprawling city. This was our first encounter with Indian highways, which we have found can range from a four-lane paved divided highway to a rutted one lane dirt road. In cities and villages we have taken to following trucks and tour buses through the maze of streets, as highway signage is a rare commodity. We also learned that divided highway doesn't mean the traffic on each side moves in the same direction. Despite a plethora of places for u-turns drivers often commute in the wrong direction to save themselves the hassle of going 0.5 km out of the way.

We moved fairly quickly through the divided highway with the exception of the (frequently unsigned) road closures where the lanes abruptly end. The countryside was fairly uniform, with large expanses of grass or crops. Coal smokestacks fueling brick factories belched blackened clouds, adding to the dust and diesel fume-choked air. Giant trucks, tour buses, auto rickshaws, cars, SUVs, carts, bicycles, motorcycles, livestock and pedestrians all compete for lane space and riding here is like a massive game of chicken.

We reached the turn-off to Patna as the sun was setting. Unlike NH2, the road to Patna is a pothole-ridden undivided two-lane road, with major sections of hilly, twisty road. Although I had just gotten used to having trucks driving full speed in my lane on NH2, having this happen repeatedly at night on a narrow corner was another story. We passed village after dusty village and after 16 hours of riding (and 50 km short of our destination) just when we were ready to crash in some abandoned building by the side of the road we saw a hotel/motel sign. After washing off the road grime we fell asleep under the watchful eye of our room gecko.

we're not in kansas anymore

2008-11-12T01:00:00.000-08:00

Despite three consecutive nights of minimal sleep we awoke at 7 am to our first day in Kolkata. Businesses here don't bother to open until 10 or 11 am and the street food vendors were just getting rolling when we got off the Metro. India is not exactly the best place for healthy food options and our first breakfast of fried dough filled with spiced potatoes was a fine example. Although chai stalls are plentiful, it's nearly impossible to find coffee before 10 am and when found it's watered down Nescafe. We arrived at the Sikkim House (which serves as a combo hotel and Sikkim government office) to be told to come back around 10 am. We returned at 10:05 and waited outside the office. After another 10 minutes we were told that the woman that handled permits wasn't in yet "because of traffic". She arrived at 10:30 handed us some forms, which we completed, and told us to come back at 4 pm.

We headed down to the Hugli river (a tributary of the Ganges) to kill time. As we approached the river we saw evidence of the previous evening's Jagaddhatri Puja festivities. The elaborate goddess sculptures we had passed on the way to the hotel had been tossed into the river or strewn on the sides of the road. After a lunch that included some breath freshening silver soap cubes (?!) we picked up our Sikkim permits. Before heading back to our hotel we attempted to tour the New Market but grew wearing of the touts and left.

The next day we were scheduled to pick up our Enfields in the Kolkata burbs. We allowed 2.5 hours to get there by train and taxi/walking. The Metro segment went smoothly as always, but when we transferred to the train at Tollygange it was impossible to tell which line to take. We ended up going two stations in the wrong direction and had to wait 40 minutes for a return train. In the interim we were accosted by dirty, sticky street children that clung to us for several minutes. Shortly afterward a man with two macaques on leashes walked by, but fortunately, didn't bother to harrass us. We were supposed to transfer lines again, but decided to take a taxi given our previous delay. The taxi driver took a circuitous route through tiny streets and over dirt roads, magically emerging in the correct neighborhood. The meter said 59 Rps, but he demanded 130 pointing to some chart. I was used to Bangalore, where you pay what's on the meter. We were late so we paid it, later learning that this was a legitimate conversion. The Enfields were waiting for us at the Chakravorty's, owners of IndiaBikes. Their youngest son, Hindol, gave us a run down of the bikes and we came to realize exactly what we was in store. We learned that electric start meant kick start most of the time and electric start only when the bike is warmed up (after 200-300 km of riding). They take at least five tries to kick start, alternating between a decompression stroke. Lucky for us motorcycles are breaking down all over the roads, so if it takes us 5 minutes to restart we would be OK. The bikes are also heavy, 500+ lbs for a 350 cc. We were told to change the clutch and engine oil every 2000 km, which means at least once a week.

Our first task was getting back to the hotel. Thankfully, Jascha had purchased Bluetooth helmet communicators for us and we could hear each other over the constant drone of horns. In India there are as many lanes of traffic as will fit across a road and this changes constantly. Taxi drivers especially ride your ass, and within the first 10 minutes one had hooked his bumper in my panniers frames and was pushing my bike over. We made it back unscathed, parked close to our hotel, and stopped by the kati rolls stand for a mutton roll. After a brief discussion we decided to do our afternoon tour of the Kalighat temple by Metro.

We headed over to the Kalighat area and picked up some chain and a lock to secure our bikes. As we approached the temple we were instantly stopped by men offering to show us the (self-explanatory) entrance. We purposefully overshot the entrance to avoid the annoyance and ended up at what seemed like a dead end. We caved into one of the touts who took us on an interesting route through the back alleys to a stall with some men who were going to "watch our shoes for us." We promptly left and attempted to enter the temple. A man inside told us to leave our backpacks near the door, so we gave up and headed back.

Jascha was uncertain whether he would ever get his luggage back so we stopped at the clothing stalls near the New Market to pick up some extra clothes. One of the pants vendors tried to run off with Jascha's money after the vendor tried to overcharge and Jascha would only agree to one pair. This wasn't a wise move, but in the end the exchange was made as initially agreed upon. After a stop of kesar pista kulfi we decided to brave the New Market again to look at kurtis for Jascha. He found two, and the experience was much less chaotic.

When we got to our bikes the man that initially told us where to park on the unsigned street was demanding a 36 Rps parking fee and that we could only remain there until 10 pm. He showed us a Shakespearean Parking Association badge. The New Market touts carry fake "guide" badges so I was skeptical. After weighing our options we eventually told him we would go verify with our hotel, upon which we learned this was legitimate, so we returned to pay him. When we went to move our bikes at 10 pm Jascha couldn't find his keys. After a frantic search he headed out to see if he had left them in the bike. The parking guy had them in his hands, so I paid him 100 Rps as a thank you. The man explained that someone else standing near us had actually found them, so Jascha also gave him 100 Rps. We moved our bikes in front of our hotel and I struggled to lift the beast onto its center stand as a crowd of Indian men watched us (as they always do). I finally had Jascha help.

That night we had an invasion of bugs in our room, including flies that looked like the vector of the protozoan that causes Leishmaniasis. I wasn't certain of the distribution of the disease in India and whether it is the visceral kind or the kind that causes nasty open sores, so I smashed as many as I could with the knowledge that at least it's a treatable condition.

mind the gap

2008-11-11T23:19:00.000-08:00

Last Friday Neal kindly chauffeured us to the airport while snacked on bahn mi from Saigon's Sandwich & Bakery in preparation for our two day journey to Kolkata. We were excited about a ten hour layover in London, which would give us a chance to do some sightseeing and stretch our legs. The only real thing on our agenda was a trip to the Hunterian Museum at the Royal College of Surgeons. Thankfully, Air New Zealand has on-demand movies and television so I entertained myself watching indie films.

After a restless night we stepped off the plane under dreary, rainy London skies. Our bags were checked through to Delhi so it made things easy. We took the Underground to Holborn station and got a (ghastly) cup of cappuccino to wake us from our stupor before heading to the Hunterian Museum. The museum has an amazing collection of anatomical and pathology specimens from all different species, in addition to medical instruments from prehistory to modern day. The only downside we discovered is that photography is not allowed. We still had a few hours to kill so we headed to Trafalgar Square. The sign for the St. Martin in the Fields crypt caught our eye, but we were disappointed to see it turned into a food court.

We continued along the Underground line and I was surprised to find a large statue of Pazuzu at the British Academy. This is the demon of Exorcist fame and who we discussed in my Babylonian Religion class at UCB. Pazuzu amulets were worn by Sumerian women as protection against Lamashtu, the demon who was responsible for miscarriages. The line spoken by the old priest/archeologist in the Exorcist, Evil against evil, refers to this. Since we were in London we decided to cave and indulge in bar food before getting on the plane.

Unlike the smoothly running Air NZ flight we knew that our Air India experience would be chaotic. Air India and Indian Airlines are in the process of merging and we had already had our earlier flights rescheduled three times following route cancellations. We had to go back and forth between several agents to finally get our boarding pass to Delhi and some sort of special handwritten endorsement for our Delhi to Kolkata leg. We eventually got on the plane for our second night in transit.

By the time we got to Delhi we were wiped out. The air was thick with smog and what the Indian newspapers refer to as "mist". Jascha's bag, which contained his riding gear and tools, didn't arrive, so he rapidly came up to speed on Indian bureaucracy and the need to save every scrap of paper. We took the shuttle over to the domestic terminal and checked in. The armed guards wouldn't allow me to go back out of the security area to use the ATM, so I was hoping we would would find a money changer or ATM in Kolkata. The departure lounge was freezing cold and I spent the next few hours wrapped in both of our jackets. Finally we boarded the final leg of our flight. Of course we arrived at the airport to a broken ATM and no money changers in our terminal. The touts were all over us and the only good thing that came out of it was a black market money changer. We managed to avoid all offers for "cheaper taxi fare" and score a prepaid ride to our hotel for ~$5. En route to the airport we hit a major traffic jam, which we later learned was caused by the procession for the Jagaddharti Puja. We caught only a small fraction, which consisted of trucks hauling illuminated statues of gods and goddesses. Wearily, we stumbled into our hotel room and crashed.

maverick this

2008-11-04T20:03:00.001-08:00

It's about time. Thank you Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Virginia voters. Also, kudos to Colorado, California, and Arizona voters for once again defeating anti-abortion initiatives. I wish I could say the same for hateful legislation banning same sex marriage.

farewell señora sumac

2008-11-04T00:38:00.001-08:00

Sadly, I was only recently introduced to Peruvian-born diva Yma Sumac. Born as Zoila Augusta Emperatriz Chávarri del Castillo, she adopted the stage name of Yma Sumac meaning "How beautiful" in Quechua. Yma was known for her freakish vocal range of 4+ octaves and lounge style renditions of Andean folk songs. She died of colon cancer on Saturday in Silver Lake at age 86.

kudos to the cambodian gov't

2008-11-03T12:54:00.001-08:00

Over the last few months I've become intimately familiar with the intricacies of the visa process for various SE Asian countries. I have to give the Cambodian government credit for the most pleasant visa experience I've had to date with their e-visa program. Their user interface was straightforward, allowing submission of multiple requests, they accepted PayPal (believe it or not), and they offered assistance with digital photo optimization if needed. We received our visas the following morning via email. The cost was $5 more than standing in line at the airport, but IMHO it seems well worth it.

time to get with the program

2008-11-03T12:25:00.000-08:00

While I will give L.A. county credit for offering early voting, can they make early voting any more inconvenient? Having visited Austin (Travis county) recently, where early voting was available starting 20 October at a multitude of locations, I was shocked to learn that early voting in L.A. county is limited to the registrar's office in Norwalk. L.A. county's population is ten-fold that of Travis county, so regardless of last minute predictions of voter turnout it's incomprehensible why voting officials lacked the foresight to open more early voting polling places. Not surprisingly waits have been up to 5 hours. I commend those voters for their patience. Thankfully I voted a few weeks ago via absentee ballot.

visitando los muertos

2008-11-02T20:11:00.000-08:00

This morning Jascha and I headed up to Lum-Ka-Naad in Northridge for a last meet up with Dave, Naomi, Owen, Chad, Isabelle, and Clara before our trip. Lum-Ka-Naad came highly recommended on both yelp and chowhound, and its extensive menu of both northern and southern Thai cuisine sounded most appealing. We ended up with a table full of dishes to sample, including larb, Thai/Burmese curry, nam kao tod, chicken satay, tum makua (eggplant salad), Thai pork sausage combination plate, som tum, and steamed basil mussels and scallops. The nam kao tod was a bit unusual (in a not so good way) in that it was prepared with a sweetened tomato paste sauce rather than the usual fish sauce and lime juice dressing. The som tum was also not so ideal, too heavy on the fish sauce and limp papaya. The remaining dishes were prepared with fresh ingredients and quite good, especially the tum makua, a spicy eggplant dip, and the larb. We are planning a repeat visit when we get back.

After a detour to REI we headed down to east L.A. for Self Help Graphic's 35th annual El Dia de los Muertos celebration. Since the 1970s SHG has provided graphic arts training for local up and coming Latino artists. Sadly, the L.A. Catholic archdiocese covertly sold the building to helpy pay for sexual abuse-related legal settlements. SHG stands to be evicted in early 2009 unless funding is secured. Although the event was smaller than in E Oakland, but included community workshops in papier mache skull decoration. We did a quick tour of the altars and gallery space, then walked over to Cemitas Poblanas Elvirita. We split a cemita de milanesa y quesillo and an horchata. The cemita roll was perfectly toasted and came with thick slices of avocado and a roasted chipotle chili. I would have preferred if the cheese was melted, but overall it was excellent.

On the walk back we stopped by the huge maze-like mercado on the corner of Lorena and E 1st. It felt like I was back in Mexico with its botanicas, porcelain saint displays, cheesy CDs, piles of dried fruit, and buckets of mole. It didn't take too long to get our fill. We cut through a back alley and came across wall after wall of incredible graffiti, a fine ending to our excursion.

rain at last

2008-11-01T22:09:00.000-07:00

This morning's forecast of 30% chance of t-storms left us unphased for our planned hike up Mt. Lowe. This was L.A. after all and we'd been baking in never ending summer temperatures in the 90s. It was a balmy 78F under cloudy skies when we left the house. We decided to head back to the San Gabriels to check out the Mt. Lowe Railway, but this time out of the Lake Avenue trailhead in Pasadena.

After a brief detour we found the switchbacky trail to Echo Mt. Jascha used our ascent as a test for the new GPS he bought for our Asia trip. We maintained a steady pace just over 3 miles an hour up to Echo Mt. and turned off onto upper Sam Merrill. It had rained lightly on the way up, but it was still warm enough to hike sans rain jacket. The cloudy skies brought out the contrasting colors in the hillside flora. Then it started to pour. Streams of water were rushing down the trail. We gave up looking for someplace to take cover in the chaparral and trudged on. We were doing OK between downpours until the wind picked up. I tried putting on my rain jacket and hat, but I was having a hard time staying warm, so after 5 miles (3 less than our original destination) we decided to turn around.

On the way down we detoured over to the ruins on Echo Mt. I had passed the turn-off several times on AC100 training runs, but had never bothered to stop. We found an interesting collection of large gears and engines, remnants of an old power plant and the Mt. Lowe Railway next to the crumbling foundations of the defunct White City resort. The rains had cleared out most of the hikers and left perfect conditions for the mt. bikers. We passed several on the way down. The rain eased up and as we neared the trailhead I questioned whether we had made the right decision to head down until I saw lightning flash over the valley.

wonders of the modern world

2008-10-29T12:43:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, I took Jascha over to the hellhole of west LA to get Lasik surgery. Little did I know that I was going to get to witness the entire amazing operation via video monitor. It took longer to get through traffic than it did for the entire process. I also learned that they don't even bother to suture the corneal flap afterward because the negative osmotic pressure holds it in place.

bjds

2008-10-29T11:11:00.000-07:00

I was recently introduced to the world of ball jointed dolls (BJDs) in a recent LA Weekly write-up on Artmaze, a Korean-based company that produces a line of ultra realistic, ultra creepy BJDs called Elfdolls. Not surprisingly collectors include many fans of anime and cosplay. Den of Angels, one of the BJD forums hosts 9000+ active members on its forum. There is a thriving cottage industry in BJD photography, clothing, and something called faceups (the painstaking hand application of facial coloring). This isn't exactly a kids hobby, as larger dolls (55-60 cm in height) retail for $500+. BJD aficianados stage elaborate scenes with their dolls, like deaths, weddings, and yaoi encounters, granted with the latter it's a bit difficult to tell sometimes with the prevalent androgynous J-rock theme going. Personally, I'd find it a bit disconcerting to have dolls this realistic staring at me in my house, but to each its own.

Note: I was kindly corrected by the owner of The Lost Boys blog, which I had previously referenced for death scenes. The dolls appearing in his blog are Living Dead Dolls and not considered BJDs.

hidden l.a.

2008-10-27T10:51:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, on one of our night hikes in the Verdugos we stumbled upon a small cemetery and series of hand-constructed damns in a canyon near Jascha's place. The canyon closed off at one point and we ended up scrambling up a crumbly dirt bank for several hundred feet before bushwhacking back to the dirt road. At one point we passed a trail heading off left back down the canyon, so we knew that there was likely a better way to go. When we got home (after washing off the poison oak) we went online and found out that the cemetery belonged to the Brand family. On this same blog we pulled up information on the abandoned zoo at Griffith Park and it immediately went on our "must see" list.

We woke up Saturday morning feeling unmotivated to follow through on our usual weekend activities of climbing or embarking on some death march, so we decided to use the opportunity to do some local exploration. First we headed over to the old zoo, which we had read had been fenced off after the 2007 Griffith Park fire. We arrived to find a surreal scene, with families picnicking on green lawns adjacent to easily accessible cages. We crawled inside one of the largest ones through an opening in the fence. The cage was a maze of steep staircases, narrow passageways, and small rooms. Graffiti and poster artists had decorated the walls and the floors were covered with broken beer bottles, but amazingly, it didn't smell like an outhouse. We exited the cage through the roof, walked around a bit more, then headed down to Cafe Tropical for pumpkin pie and guava cheese puff pastry. Outside the cafe the Silverlake Obama volunteers were hard at work reminding folks to vote and offering rides to the poll. Thanks guys.

Next we returned to Glendale for an encore visit to Brand Canyon. Before long we were back at the Brand family cemetery, which is dominated by a large pyramid. Graves were as recent as the late 80s and per the city of Glendale website, include the family dogs. Photographs of the individual graves are cataloged here. We continued up the canyon, amazed at the amount of work that went into building the series of rock dams, some as high as 25 feet. When we reached the point where we had previously gone up the sketchy dirt chute we instead went left up the canyon. We encountered a series of class 4ish water polished solid granite falls (now dry) interspersed with sandy stream bed. The canyon became more brushy as we continued up and we turned back after Jascha ended up with a face full of poison oak.

That night we went to see the Swedish film, Let the Right One in (Lat den ratte komma in), a satisfyingly dark tale about a pale, spindly misfit boy that falls for his undead neighbor. The frigid Blackeberg, a suburb of Stockholm, is the perfect backdrop for this bleak story.

robo boot camp

2008-10-21T07:36:00.000-07:00

I have a weakness for engineers, and one of things that initially attracted me to Jascha was his robotics background, notably his participation in robot fighting competitions like BattleBots. So when an invitation to compete at the Maker's Faire came around I agreed to help out. We lucked out that the event was in Austin because it meant we had access to his dad's incredible shop, a major luxury in a world where traveling to events means working with whatever tools portable you can fit in your storage container.

We caught an early flight into Austin the day before the event. Armed with 3.5 hours of sleep from the night before we set to work on Jascha's robot, The Judge, repairing a leaky pneumatics valve and damage sustained by an overzealous robotsitter. At 2am after ~8 hours of shop time we called it a day.

We arose wearily at 10am and headed over to the event. There were four other competitors in the the 340 lb category and the event was set up as a round robin. The Judge is notorious for its vicious, pneumatically-controlled hammer with interchangeable tool steel tips and many of the competitors came prepared with reinforcements to shield against internal damage. The pit was pretty much what I expected - almost exclusively nerdy guys frantically tinkering with the fruits of their savings and many hours of sleepless nights. My hat goes off to Wendy, one of the few female drivers in the sport. We had a bit of time to kill before the first round so we headed out into the fair in search of food. We were pleasantly surprised to find amazing banh mi (Chinese BBQ pork highly recommended) from Lulu B's amongst the typical carnival fare and gluten/soy/dairy/taste free food.

The first round of the day was against the Vladiator, a lifter type robot. Things went well until the pneumatic system failed, leaving the hammer stuck in the fully released position. It was disappointing to see a loss so early. We had less than three hours until the next round so we quickly removed the armor and took the robot outside for diagnostics. Frustratingly, the culprit was a second valve in the custom pneumatics valve assembly that we had so carefully disassembled and cleaned the night before. We didn't have time to do a full disassembly so Jascha rotated the poppet valve repeatedly in its seat, hoping that it would reseal. Getting the batteries recharged and the armor back on in time for the next round was stressful, and it didn't help that the irritating Tesla coil exhibitors across the hall were blasting sci-fi movie and video game themes as accompaniment. Finally we were ready to go.

Our next round was against Steel Reign. The hammer appeared to be functioning again, but we knew from experience that it might take a few blows to show symptoms of valve leakage. Shortly after the battle began Steel Reign stopped working completely and its owner tapped out. This turned out to be a temporary problem, and Jascha gave the OK to start up the round again. This time the hammer appeared to be working better although now it wouldn't retract fully. Fortunately, we still won the match. We pulled off the armor and didn't see anything obvious hindering the rack and pinion system that actuates the hammer. When we turned it over and pulled off the dented bottom plate, however, we found the problem. Blows from below had put a large tear in the frame, but more importantly, had dented the large piston and housing cylinder that drive the hammer arm. This looked bad as we couldn't exactly pick up a replacement cylinder or piston at an auto parts store. We knew that we had another long night of repairs ahead of us.

After a quick dinner of Thai food, Jascha and I removed and disassembled the piston assembly. We worked on the frame repair, while Jascha's dad attempted to smooth out the dented cylinder with a press. The piston was easily bent back into shape, but the cylinder was more stubborn. After several hours of lathe work and sanding Jascha's dad was able to get the piston to run somewhat smoothly through the cylinder. Jascha and I reinforced the damaged frame by adding an additional armor plate, which had the added benefit of protecting the regulator. We turned in around 3am.

The first round of the day was against Ziggy, which The Judge had lost to in its previous encounter. Ziggy has a pneumatically-driven flipper arm that can easily send 300+ lb robots into the air. We crossed our fingers that the hammer was functioning properly, as it is also used to right the robot after being turned over. The round was close with Ziggy repeatedly throwing the Judge into the air and The Judge fighting back with heavy blows. In the end it came down to the judges' decision and the round went to Jascha.

For once there wasn't any debilitating damage, so we recharged The Judge's batteries, refilled the nitrogen cylinder, and relaxed. We were visited by a number of spectators of all ages and Jascha answered questions about the inner workings of The Judge and offered advice about breaking into the sport. Our next round was against Gerald and Emily, two robots that fight together. I learned that a team can have as many robots as they want in one round as long as their cumulative weight meets the class specifications. As the round got closer, however, we saw that Gerald had been modified with a huge steel plate as protection against The Judge. This meant that Gerald would be fighting alone. As an added advantage to us we found out that the plate partially obstructed the spinning drum and blade on the front of Gerald. The battle started and sparks flew as Gerald's blades scraped The Judge's titanium armor. Jascha got in a number of substantial blows and Gerald eventually stopped moving. The titanium was gouged and some of the welds were sheared, but there wasn't any new internal damage.

We waited around for a while to see if we would have to do a final round to decide the winner, but because we had just beaten the competitor with whom we were tied for number of wins/losses the organizers declared The Judge the overall heavyweight winner.

We postponed our final repairs in order to get in a few hours of climbing, dinner prep (we made nam khao tod, or rather nam tofu, tod and prik khing for Jascha's parents), and blacksmithing lessons for me. I was worked from lack of sleep and helping to lift the robot repeatedly, and I got frustrated on not being able to clip the last bolt from a sharp finger numbing crack on what I thought was a 5.9. I later learned this was a 10c. Fortunately, we moved down to an easier part of the cliff and I redeemed myself on some 10a routes. My blacksmithing lessons were fun, but a bit challenging because my forearms were tired from climbing on overhanging limestone. Jascha's dad was most patient and I managed to produce a slightly lopsided hook. The following evening we patched the armor and repaired the sheared welds, leaving The Judge packed up and ready for the next event. I had a great weekend, picked up some new skills, and fully enjoyed the event and shop time.

Lessons Learned:

If the idea of blowing away countless hours and dollars with a few minutes in the ring doesn't seem very appealing to you, then robot fighting is not your sport.
Helping to lift a 320 lb robot repeatedly with minimal sleep for 2.5 days will not improve your climbing.
Don't always believe locals without guidebooks who tell you a route is a 5.9.
Learning to blacksmith is not compatible with climbing overhung routes.
Metal is incredibly forgiving to the repeated correction of mistakes made by inexperienced forgers.

easy like sunday...

2008-10-13T16:38:00.000-07:00

I decided to the hinder the decline of my alpine conditioning by embarking on an 18+ mile run/hike in the San Gabriels. I found a loop on my Mt Wilson topo leaving from Switzers trailhead with minimal pavement and dirt road. I hadn't been on those trails before, but I could see it had a satisfying amount of elevation gain. After some deliberation Jascha decided to join me.

Sunday rolled around and we detoured to Saigon's Sandwiches and Bakery first for bahn mi and to for the San Gabriel Superstore for mochi, then headed back up north to the trailhead. We parked on the road to avoid getting locked in the gate, which supposedly closed daily at 4:30p. The trailhead was packed with picnickers and day hikers. I would soon regret leaving my camera at home. We headed in a counterclockwise direction, heading SW down the Bear Canyon trail. The canyon was lovely, shady with water-worn rock walls, and the trail zigzagged through the river bed.

At the Tom Sloane Saddle we encountered a four-way intersection. Only three of these trails were depicted on our topo and we weren't sure which of the two trails leading to the Mt Lowe road was the one shown on the map. We chose the right-most trail, which we later learned added 1.5-2 miles. The trail was precipitous with bushwhacky sections and washouts, but also with extensive views all the way to the ocean. When we finally reached the road we realized that we were quite a ways in the wrong direction from where we wanted to go. As we looked over the edge of the road down the canyon we could see the more direct trail we chose not to take. We stopped for a mochi break and map consultation. We had several options for getting back, one requiring ~3 miles of pavement and one which was longer, but trail. The later sounded more appealing.

As we approaced Markham Saddle we started seeing hikers again. After passing through the tunnel we were surprised to see signs for the now defunct Mt Lowe railway. I remembered seeing the old trestles around Echo Mountain, but I didn't realize it once extended up to a huge tavern on Mt Lowe. We left Mt Lowe for our next trip and ran down the twisty Valley Forge trail. Before long we were back down in the Arroyo Seco River Canyon at the Red Box trail junction. The trail was fairly flat until we reached Camp Hi-Hill Outdoor Education Center, which I initially thought was Red Box. The 0.7 (or 0.9 depending who you believe) miles from Hi-Hill climbed about 600 ft and seemed to take much longer than it should have. The temperatures were also starting to drop and the winds were picking up. We took our minds off of our suffering by discussing our dinner plans.

We took our last mochi break and after a bit of searching found the Switzers trailhead. The long switchbacks were frustrating, but at least it was mostly downhill. We initially planned to cut up to Angeles Crest Highway to avoid having to walk up the paved road from the picnic area to my car, but we never found the trail junction that we were using as a landmark. The Switzers picnic area came into view and we trudged up the paved road to find the gate wide open. Oh well. In total we had gone ~20 miles. On the way home we stopped at El Hurache Azteca for their tasty asada huaraches and melon aquas.

punishment

2008-10-13T14:27:00.000-07:00

I don't normally rant about politics in my blog, but I am disgusted (although not surprised) with conservative spewings about Obama's comment regarding not wanting his daughters to be burdened with a baby at age 16. I commend any politician, let alone one running for President, to speak so candidly about this issue.

The Quote:
I've got two daughters, 9 years old and 6 years old. I'm going to teach them first of all about values and morals but if they make a mistake, I don't want them punished with a baby. I don't want them punished with an STD at the age of 16, you know.

How selfish and irresponsible is it to encourage your pregnant 17 year old daughter to keep the baby and marry her boyfriend? A multitude of studies have shown teen motherhood is associated with lower levels of education, lower socioeconomic status, higher rates of abuse/neglect, higher rates of negative child health outcomes, and higher rates of daughters who become pregnant in their teens. Few women, even those with valid and applicable work experience and educational backgrounds, are lucky enough to have as many opportunities as Sarah Palin. It's pathetic that publicity from a pending election is sufficient justification for someone to encourage their daughter to follow a path guaranteed to create barriers to her educational and career development. Raising a baby before one is mature enough and financially capable of supporting it in a healthy, stable environment is akin to child abuse. If you don't believe in abortion, then put the baby up for adoption.

zousan

2008-10-10T17:52:00.001-07:00

OK, so I'm a closeted cook, which means I can appreciate a good appliance almost as much as a cam or accessory for my F650GS. Consequently, I was thrilled when Jascha presented me with a Zojirushi, the Cadillac of rice cookers. I had been battling with my stylish, but functionally challenged, Krups stainless rice cooker all summer to make the perfect sticky rice, compounded by the fact I was living at 4600 ft. I think Jascha heard me mutter under my breath, "What do the Germans know about cooking rice? I need to break down and buy a J cooker."

The Zoji actually has settings for different types of rice, including rice porridge, brown rice, and sticky rice. The sticky rice came out perfect on the first try. I also tried out the timer setting and woke up to the odor of freshly prepared congee.

pilgrimage to LoS

2008-10-10T14:33:00.000-07:00

Jascha's birthday rolled around and I admit that I pushed for a trip to Vegas out of slightly selfish interests to climb at Red Rocks and to try out Lotus of Siam, supposedly the "best Thai restaurant in the North America," so says the almighty L.A. Weekly food critic, Jonathan Gold. I figured that I could compensate by booking a room at the ultra hip & Dwell-esque Palms Place and taking him out to dinner at Rosemary's.

We ended up getting in late on Friday night so we had an easy day of sport climbing in Calico Basin on Saturday. We found some routes that weren't in the guide book, one of which was a thin 5.11+ or 5.12- crimpfest that we toproped. As I was setting up a precarious TR Jascha was questioned by some family struggling down the class 2-3 descent as to whether he had taught me how to rig a TR. He politely told them that I was the experienced climber.

The main attraction of the day, however, was a trip to LoS. We were somewhat versed in Isan cuisine from our trips to our local Thai restaurants Renu Nakorn and Khun Dom. Isan is relatively hard to come by even in a city with a huge Thai population like L.A. We arrived at LoS at peak dinner time and were told that there was a 30 minute wait. We decided to take a stroll around the aging strip mall to kill time. The strip mall contained multiple Asian restaurants/clubs, two wig stores, a 420 cafe, a roller hockey rink, pentecostal and evalgelical churches, an Alcoholics Together meeting space, two gay bathhouses (a.k.a. health clubs/spas), a BDSM clothing/supplies store, and a swingers' club, all seemingly harmoniously coexisting. Only in Las Vegas. Sadly, the nam kao tod and kang hoh at LoS were both lackluster. Both appeared on our table too fast to not be prepared in advance of our order. The rice on the nam kao tod was slightly soggy and the dish contained cubed store-bought pork sausage, not the seasoned ground pork and pork skin we get at khun dom. We ordered the nam kao tod "medium spicey", but received a completely farangified bland version. The kang hoh, however, was less vinegary than Renu Nakorn (a good thing). I am anxious to try the real deal in Thailand in a few months.

The next day we headed back to Red Rocks to climb the classic, Frogland (5.8), Jascha's choice. Thankfully, Jascha agreed to drive because there is no way my Mini would have made it through the washes. Fall was in full swing and the desert temperatures were perfect. We noticed a party on the first pitch as we approached. It was remarkably uncrowded for a weekend day this time of year and this popular of a route, likely because the weather report was iffy about precipitation. We decided to carry our packs to avoid having to contour back around to the start of the route after the descent.

By the time I started up the party above us had reached the first belay. Frogland is one of the more continuous routes I have climbed and even on the second run in a year it did not disappoint. The amount of abandoned gear (no less than 4 cams) in the committing 5.7 lieback on the second pitch was both entertaining and slightly disconcerting. At the second brushy belay alcove we caught up with the other party, one member, Samantha, I recognized as a friend of my other climbing partner, Miguel. I mentioned that I had seen her climbing with Miguel before at Malibu Creek and she said, "Aren't you the one that climbs fast and solos everything." I laughed. I set up a belay just below Samantha to stay out of the way. When Jascha arrived we climbed up to a higher ledge. I knew that the rope drag was bad on the next pitch (last time I lead some unprotectable slab with potential for a major pendulum fall due to my shoddy belay placement) so I decided not to wait for Samantha's partner to finish the pitch and I headed up to set up an intermediate belay below the roof where Samantha's partner was somewhat struggling.

The belay above the roof proved to be a bottleneck so we waited it out. I decided to try and bypass the next belay and go all the way up to the end of the technical section. I wasn't sure if the rope drag would be unbearable, given that the route weaves behind a chockstone, then around a roof/arete. Fortunately, it was fine. Supertopo calls the last class 5 section 5.4R. I find this hard to believe; it's at least 5.7. I was amazed at how quickly Jascha maneuvered through the chockstone section (with his pack) given that I'm ~2/3 his size and I found it grovely. We packed up our ropes and rack for the final class 4 jaunt to the top. On the summit we snacked on pineapple coconut pecan muffins, then we scrambled down the canyon to the car. We were looking forward to our dinner at Rosemary's.

Before heading to dinner we checked into the Palms Place, which was much more tasteful than I expected, plus it had an added bonus of being in a building detached from the casino accessible by a separate entrance. The mix of dark wood/textiles and industrial materials were right up my alley. At Rosemary's we ordered our old standby, twice-baked parmesan souffle, plus panko-crusted crab boulettes, grilled flat iron steak, and baked Japanese sea bass. Something happened with our order to cause a major delay, so we were given another appetizer. We chose wisely, the daily special of squash risotto with basil pesto and goat cheese cream sauce. This turned out to be the highlight of the dinner, along with the pecan pie. The entrees and souffle were better on our prior visit.

All in all we had a great weekend and it was with great reluctance that we headed back to L.A.

bishop send off

2008-10-03T17:13:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe how fast the summer flew by. This week I bid a fond farewell to Bishop by helping Tricia and Lesley celebrate their 40th and 38th b-days, respectively, in classic E Side style (read potluck + high flutin' alcoholic beverages minus Tricia's 40 ouncer). We had a great turnout with our Bad Ass Chick theme, and I finally got a chance to use my mobile theater with a screening of Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill! Jascha helped me make a fairly successful chicken version of nam kao tod (modified from Pim's recipe). Special thanks to Karen, AT, Mixologist Michelle, Matt, and Janet for helping me pull it all together in just a week's time.

iscandar

2008-09-25T21:43:00.001-07:00

I have no idea why but the late 70s/early 80s cartoon Starblazers (an English version of the Japanese anime Yamato sanitized for tender young US viewers) popped into my head last night at the video store. Yes, I've now dated myself. It took me until today to remember the hero Derek's cheesy last name, Wildstar. Sadly, I can still remember the theme song and the race of blue skinned villains, the Gamilons. They always had the best uniforms.

shut down on the e arete

2008-09-25T17:32:00.000-07:00

Note: This trip report also appears on summitpost.

My time in Bishop was rapidly coming to an end so I had to select carefully from my summer to do list. Jascha and I eventually decided on the E Arete of Bear Creek Spire. Unlike the more popular N Arete and NE Ridge routes (both of which I have done at least once), there is little information on the less traveled E Arete other than a vague description from Secor, a brief write-up in Fiddler and Moynier's guide, and an old trip report on climber.org. I was able to get some beta from someone off of summitpost as well. The route is easy to find as it occupies the left-hand skyline of Bear Creek Spire, and is clearly visible for much of the approach. Based on the photos I had seen an escape appeared fairly straightforward, so I wasn't overly concerned. I had read that the climb was 22 pitches in length, should take anywhere from 7-11 hours, and to expect raps for the notches. I knew that it was likely we could solo a lot (if not all) of it, so I estimated we would be on the low end. We packed a 60m half rope, 2 Link cams, a #3 Camalot, 1/4 set of nuts, slings, and rap rings.

We got a not so alpine, but reasonable given our experience and typical performance, start from the Mosquito Flat trailhead. The temps have been dropping in the high country, so my right hip was feeling a bit cranky. Nevertheless we made good time around the bottom of the NE Ridge, from which we got our first good view of our task at hand. We contoured to a set of obvious notches, which according to the guide marked the start of the climb. The approach took 2.5 hours.

We scoped out the various ways to surmount the notch and I selected a chimney, which at first glance looked within our abilities. As I scrambled up, however, I noticed how crumbly the holds were. I told Jascha to find another way up. It seemed unwise for me to downclimb, so I climbed up to a point parallel with an easy ledge system. Now all I had to do was exposed traverse over to the ledge. I found a single solid edge for both hands, which put me off-balance for swinging my left leg over to the ledge. I was having flashbacks of trying to climb snow-covered verglas and rotten rock on Little Bear in whiteout conditions. After three unsettling tries I got my left foot over to the ledge wedged between a crumbly flake and the vertical chimney face. I managed to grab another hold before the flake pulled off. Jascha had gone around and hurried up another set of ledges to try and get above me in case I needed assistance. We made it to the notch unscathed.

From the notch we headed up the next tower. I expected the rock quality to improve, but it didn't. We cautiously tiptoed our way up the ridge trying to avoid pulling off any holds or slipping as granite crystals rolled off under our feet. The first major notch appeared and we found a way on the right side of the ridge to downclimb into it. There was an obvious leftward leaning ramp leading out of the notch. The moderate class 5 ramp system, although exposed, provided fairly easy going until I got to a mini-roof that required making a series of committing slab moves. The knob under my left foot crumbled off (not inspiring), but I managed to get up my nerve and pull through the roof.

Finally the exposure eased up. We walked over piles of broken dark gray rocks and icy slabs, bypassing one separated tower to the right. We ended up in a small notch just below a knife-edged ridge covered with more dark broken rock and an ominous set of towers. We decided to get up onto the ridge for a better look at our path forward. The rock continued to crumble beneath us. Once on the ridge it looked likely that we would have to get out our gear for the two towers. I wasn't confident that pro would even hold given the rock quality. Even though we had soloed a number of routes of similar difficulty this summer (Matthes, Cathedral, Thunderbolt to Sill) we were both starting to feel mentally drained from the crappy rock combined with the exposure. To date I hadn't encountered this much continuous loose rock on a class 5 route in the Sierra, plus we were fresh off of our mini-epic from the Sill decent. After a brief discussion we decided to bail (upon which I discovered I had left my ATC Guide at home). It took one rap to drop down to easier ground, which put us just south of the base of the NE Ridge. We made it back to the trailhead with daylight to spare and headed back to my house for tempura udon.

managing alpine expectations

2008-09-11T14:39:00.000-07:00

I probably shouldn't complain when I say that I had to downscale my E Sierra summer climbing plans. It has been my most productive alpine season to date (26 peaks), pretty good considering I lost a month of climbing to some intestinal bug and I have been splitting time in L.A. Having a boyfriend (yet alone one four hours away) wasn't exactly in my original schedule.

Labor Day weekend rolled around and we decided to do something a bit more ambitious. Jascha expressed interest in doing the Palisades Traverse from Thunderbolt to Sill, which I had done the previous summer. I was game, although I was hoping to solo the route this time. Last year we had roped up for the summit block and rapped a few sections. The only section I wasn't sure we could solo was an exposed notch with an overhanging boulder between Starlight and N Palisade. Rapping this notch requires a pendulum across the gap. I had received some potential beta on summitpost for this section, but hadn't heard from anyone who had actually soloed it. We decided to carry a 30m rope and slings just in case we got stuck. Our plan was to return via Potluck Pass as suggested by someone on summitpost. Most people do the traverse from the Glacier Lodge trailhead or with a car shuttle between S Lake and Glacier Lodge.

We headed out from the S Lake trailhead at the ungodly time of 4:20a. It was cold, cold enough for Jascha to notice, but I had wisely packed a hat and down jacket. The trek up Bishop Pass and over to the base of the SW Chute #1 of Thunderbolt went quickly, but I was dragging up the sloggy chute. I hoped that this was not indicative of how the rest of the day would go. As we approached the Thunderbolt summit we saw a party of three heading over to Starlight.

Our first major obstacle was the slabby T-bolt summit block. We put on our climbing shoes and Jascha let me go first. I had forgotten about the absence of holds on the top of the summit block and I paused for a moment before pulling over. I had Jascha spot me for the downclimb. If I fell at least I'd bounce off the blocks below first. Jascha found a step across method for surmounting the block, then made the downclimb look easy. We never found the register.

We picked up the pace on the traverse to Starlight and soon caught up with the party of three. They were roping up for a lot of the traverses and downclimbs. On the Starlight summit we met a guy from San Francisco, who was also attempting to do the traverse, but with a rope. He said that he was going slow and was doubtful that he would make it all the way to Sill. I told him to keep going because the traverse is shorter than it looks. Jascha and I took turns heading up the Starlight summit block. The summit register was present, but there was no pen. Foiled again.

We were on to N Palisade and the notch. The downclimbing was fairly straightforward and we passed up the SF guy. At the notch I headed down the E side as recommended to me on summitpost. The rock was a tad bit loose but I was soon in the notch below the overhanging boulder. Jascha didn't like the prospect of exposed loose rock and found a different way down. Our options were a short committing lieback and a somewhat awkward ramp and step-across to a ledge. We chose the latter. From here it was a short jaunt to the N Pal summit.

Last year we had rapped the N Pal chimney and I recalled it looking more challenging than its 5.2 rating. When we got the top of the chimney it didn't look any easier than I had remembered. There was an alternate rap station, but I knew the route started at the top of the U-notch and it didn't look right. As we headed down the chimney we found some loose rock, but also hand and footholds when needed. Soon we were down and standing at the top of the U-notch.

I remembered the route up Polemonium, providing the last major exposure (and one of the best photo ops) on the traverse. From the summit of Polemonium we could see the final talus slog up Sill. We were doing well on time. I had wanted to get to the summit of Sill in 12 hours from the trailhead and we were still on track. Along the ridge to Sill we found a skeleton, which we later learned belonged to a deer. The trek up Sill turned out not to be as daunting as it looked and we made the summit in just under 12 hours. I knew from experience, however, that we had a long trek out. I estimated 4-6 hours to get back. Last year it took us 19 hours, 1.5 hours of which were taken up by Miguel sitting around and socializing. Little did I know just how off my estimates would be.

From the summit we scoped our our descent options. We chose one that had a series of ramps, much more appealing than the other scree-laden chutes. Our plan was to stay fairly high and contour around the base of Polemonium toward Bishop Pass. As we dropped down we saw a series of lakes (which we wrongly decided was Palisade Basin). We passed the first two lakes and I realized we had missed Potluck Pass and we were in the wrong basin. No matter, we'd only wasted an hour or so.

As we headed up the pass Jascha was starting to slow down. I figured it was low blood sugar so I told him to eat. Knowing that we had a lot of talus ridges to navigate I wanted to get as far as we could while it was still light. The light started dwindling and the going was slow with the talus and numerous ridges. I realize in retrospect that it might have been easier to drop down to flatter ground, but at the time I wanted to stay close to the ridge given that we were trying to navigate exclusively by headlight and the outline of the peaks against the dark starry sky.

Jascha started cramping so I gave him my hydration bladder and tried to get him to keep eating. He apologized and I said no worries. I told him that I got my CO climbing partner to the finish line of Leadville 100 with completely trashed quads starting at mile 60 and assured him we'd get back to the car that night. I am still entertained when I picture Erick hanging onto trees and moaning with every step over the rooted trail. Sorry, Erick. To his credit Erick had done the MTB race the weekend prior and I DNF'd Angeles Crest 100 at mile 53 a month later. I admit that a good portion of my motivation was because I didn't want my housemate to call SAR and have us end up in Accidents in N American Mountaineering. I started getting worried when Jascha was having problems maintaining his body temperature so I tried to minimize our breaks. I had a space blanket, but didn't want us to have to bivy. Finally we crossed Thunderbolt Pass. I kept looking for the slabs below Winchell that triggered easier ground. When I knew we were below Agassiz I checked the topo and took us down a few hundred feet to flatter ground. I knew it would be hard to miss Bishop Pass even in the dark. I could see the outline of Aperature against the stars. We diagonaled NW looking for the short cliffs that border the Bishop Pass trail near the pass.

After what seemed like hours we hit the trail. We took a quick break under the shelter of a rock. I was starting to drag a bit and needed some food. Then we started the death march back to the car. Jascha let me set a brisk pace and didn't slow or ask for a break the whole way back. In the end it took us almost 10 hours to get back to the car from the summit of Sill. We were looking forward to a shower and my pseudo Zachary's pizza, but came home to find additional house guests sleeping in the room next to the kitchen. I was unwilling to go to bed without refueling so we settled on our only option, Denny's. This week I ordered Jascha a down jacket for his birthday. Don't tell.

fpkk

2008-09-11T11:23:00.000-07:00

Last night I decided that I was long overdue for owning a copy of Russ Meyer's 1965 classic Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!, starring the burlesque hapa sensation Tura Satana. I remember first seeing this film as an undergrad at the now defunct UC Theater in Berkeley and have since watched it many times. A Bishop screening is in the works.

in search of isan

2008-09-08T22:06:00.000-07:00

On the way home from getting pumelled by 100 lb Thai women last night at Pho Siam, Jascha and I tried out a new Thai restaurant, Khun Dom, raved about by LA Weekly's food critic Jonathan Gold. Up until then we had been trekking over to Renu Nakorn in Norwalk whenever we had a craving for Isan treats. The prospect of an Isan restaurant half the distance away was most appealing.

The restaurant was a tiny hole in the wall in a fairly sketchy area of E Melrose. The place was packed and the tables were teeming with sticky, wriggling and screaming children and infants. Perfect. I decided to be patient and stick it out. We ordered fish cakes, som tum with dried shrimp, sticky rice, and Thai iced coffees, in addition to the highly recommended nam kao tod, a dish consisting of ground pork, pork skin, ginger, peanuts, chilies, cilantro, onion, and the pièce de résistance, crispy rice, all bathed in a lime juice dressing. The food made it all worth it. The fish cakes were a bit rubbery, but the salads were delectable. The food came with a huge plate of fresh Thai herb/vegetables, including long beans, cilantro, cabbage, lettuce, Thai basil, and two plants I have yet to identify (see photo). Per my mom, I think one might be watercress.

Nam kao tod has now surpassed som tum as my favorite savory Thai dish and I am anxious to try the real deal on our upcoming Asia tour. Until then we'll be frequent visitors of Khun Dom.

small bike envy

2008-09-04T18:28:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago Jascha picked up a gently used KLR 250 from his coworker, so after a half day in the shop machining and installing new suspension links we decided to take our bikes out for a street/dirt ride around Angeles Crest/Forest Highways. Our options for ungated dirt roads were pretty limited based on my topo, so we settled on the Lynx-Gulch 4WD road off of Upper Big Tujunga. I still had slightly ugly memories of our off-road adventure in an attempt to reach the Mt. Humphreys trailhead. Remarkably, my bike came out with only a few dings in the handlebar end weights and a slightly bent luggage rack. Maybe this would be a kinder gentler trail more suitable for a bike that weighed more than 3 times more than me.

I was in my element on the windy AC/FH roads and blissfully took a wrong turn down Big Tujunga (v. Upper Big Tujunga). I didn't figure this out until we bottomed out in the canyon just before Sunland. We cruised back up the hill and onto Upper Big Tujunga to the Lynx-Gulch turn-off. The first part went OK; I made it through the sandy and rutted sections and rode through a creek after only minor hesitation. Then I saw Jascha stop ahead. When I caught up I saw a steep curvy downhill covered with major ruts and broken pavement sprinkled with gravel, not inspiring. I started down the hill after Jascha, skidded out in the gravel, and dumped my bike. I tried, but couldn't pick it up on with the angle of the hill and sketchy footing. Jascha came back up and helped me turn my bike upright.

So much for my bike karma. My clutch lever had snapped off leaving ~ 1.5 inches past the bend for shifting, my fender was scratched, and my left turn signal was smashed. More damaged, however, was my fragile pride. I've been riding for 7+ years (enduros for 3 years) and I should have better offroad skills. I was pissed and not psyched to dump my bike a bunch more times trying to get down the hill, but I was also stubborn and didn't want to swap Jascha for his ~250 lb bike. Reluctantly I agreed. What a difference. The KLR was light and nimble and I wasn't fighting to keep it up when it tipped. My riding skills magically improved. We swapped back bikes at the road and headed home.

We later found a defect in the clutch lever cast; the fracture occurred at an air bubble. BMW of Hollywood said it would take 5 days to get in a new clutch lever and I wanted to get back home to Bishop. Luckily we were able to crank out a new lever and epoxy my turn signal back together at Jascha's shop. I told my friend Chris what happened and he said not to worry; he had broken a number of clutch/brake levers. Maybe when I finally get settled into more permanent living arrangements I will pick up a dirt bike. In the interim I should probably invest in some Barkbusters.