Lake Powell

Lake Powell September '08.

Uintas

Climing at Ruth Lake in the Uinta Mountains, UT with Todd, Mark and Garrett. September 2008.

Mt. Rainier

Today is memorial day, and it’s a little soggy outside. Seems like a great time to listen to some tunes and document a trip.

A few years ago, I was able to accompany my brother Kevin, Chris Mason, and the legendary Bob Bills to check out the Cascade Mountain Range in Washington and climb Mt. Rainier. We went to climb the Disappointment Clever Route. Chris and Bob had done the route once previously, however, it was a first for both me and Kevin.

Located about fifty miles Southeast of Seattle, Mt. Rainier is the most glaciated peak in the lower 48 states. At 14,411 feet it’s the highest peak in the Cascade range and is an active volcano (think Mt. St. Helens). This was apparent by the large crater capping it’s summit, and the steam visibly rising there from.

Most of us left the Salt Lake airport to fly to Seattle at the same time- the exception being myself. Apparently in the post- 9/11 world of general aviation, you’re not allow to take sharpened, pointy, steel objects in the cabin of a plane. While packing for the trip, I completely overlooked the fact that I (for reasons unknown) had separated my crampons from the rest of my gear and placed them neatly in my carry-on bag.

The TSA officer at the scanner, however, did not overlook this fact and I soon found myself watching her rifle through my bag searching for the questionable contents inside. It only took her a few seconds to fish out and present before us the foreign and decidedly out of place appearance of a crampon.

Needless to say, my immediate journey concluded at the scanner. Kevin, Chris and Bob caught their flight while I went back down to the ticket counter to sort things out and get on a later one. I did, and later that night reunited with the others.

Mt. Rainier is pretty impressive from Seattle. From sea level you’re in position to view the full 14,000-plus foot rise from the coastal shore. This mass is amplified by the white of the glaciated peak providing a striking contrast to the green, rain-fed landscape of the Seattle area.

Worthy of note was an instance which took place the following morning. We had just Tetris-ed our gear into the back of the SUV (a pile unstable as a schizophrenic postal worker), and were ready to roll out to the trailhead. I saw a pack tumbling out of the back and reached forward to cram it back into place. At that instance Chris was diligently fulfilling his duties as the designated hatch closer. He slammed it shut with laudable form, but instead of hearing the nice, compact ’thunk’ that normally accompanies the closing of a rear door- there was an odd silence. He quickly repeated his efforts, and the door closed.

Unbeknownst to Chris (to this day), the silence of the failed first attempt could be easily explained by the pulsating throb in my upper right arm. I was fairly concerned at the time that the mother of all dead-arms may hamper my climbing efforts, but this worry proved to be unnecessary. The throb quickly subsided and was a non-issue for the duration of the trip.
That day, we hiked and skinned up to Camp Muir. We received word in passing a party on their way back down that there had been a pretty nasty storm with very high winds the previous night. According to them, few if anybody had reached the top that morning. The winds however, were rapidly decreasing and we were blessed with unbelievably nice weather throughout our trip. It was so nice in fact, that I burnt through all of my water that afternoon on the way up. A good portion of the evening/night was spent melting down snow for the following morning.

We spent the evening resting in camp and got a few hours of sleep in preparation for our attempt for the top. We left in two groups. Me, Kevin, and Chris left camp first. Bills left soon thereafter with a few of his friends in a second group. If I remember correctly, it was approximately 2:30 or 3:00 a.m. when we left camp. The guided parties that had been our neighbors in camp during the night were already gone.

Camp Muir is nestled below a large bowl on the Southwest side of the mountain. In traversing up and out of this bowl, there are several bare sections in the snowfield that require some scrambling through loose rock and dirt. Considering we were roped up, in the dark, with headlamps, helmets and ice axes, it struck us as pretty funny when Chris threw out the notion that he felt like a miner.

One of the coolest moments of the Climb was topping out on the ridge looming over the bowl. As we crested over the top, the Eastern side of the mountain fell away from us, and the very first hints of light peered out and glowed from behind the silhouettes of adjacent peaks on the horizon. It was very pretty.

At this point, we had to take a little care to skirt around ice fissures and crevasses as they became increasingly more prevalent.

Chris lead out at a pretty speedy pace- particularly from the Cleaver to the summit. When we got to the crater, we (or at least I) were pretty sauced. The scenery was spectacular. I rolled over and took a brief semi-conscious coma/nap and enjoyed the view.

We walked across the summit crater to the top and took some photos. It was an extraordinarily clear day. From the summit, we could easily see Mt. Baker, Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Adams. Beyond to the south, we could see the tip of Mt. Jefferson.

We passed Bills on our way down and saw a friend of his named Gordy. None of us knew Gordy, but we had heard it thrown out the night before that Gordy was going to try to meet up with Bob on the way to the top. As it turns out, according to Bills, Gordy had just climbed Mt. Baker the day before. Upon completing this objective, he drove immediately to Rainier and when we passed him on our way down, he was nearing the summit. He was un-roped, climbing solo, with ski poles, wearing what appeared to be cross-training shoes. He was also like sixty years old. The guy was a machine.The descent to camp was fun, and we were pretty worked when we got back. After a breather, we packed up and skiid down.

BT1- Manhattan

Here's a video I found on YouTube of Eric Johnson playing Manhattan from his album Venus Isle. The video comes from the 1996 G3 North America tour, and can be found on the DVD G3:Live in Concert.

Great song from a talented guitarist.

The Technological Age

In light of the government's recent donation to my personal funds (economic stimulus check), I decided to join the technological age and buy myself a computer. It's pretty state-of-the-art from what I can gather.

I suspect that most future bog submittal s will originate from this beauty. I'm also looking into some additional, more compact options as well.










Due to limited monetary resources, however, I'm going to have to hold off until future stimulus legislation goes through. I guess all I can do for now is wait and hope for the next recession. Hopefully, it's a bad one- maybe I'll get a printer.

Cell Animation

A biology professor brought this clip to the attention of our class while I was attending the University of Utah and I thought it was really cool. It’s an animation of the general workings and inner life of a cell. It was put together by the fellas at Harvard and is very well done.

This first link shows the clip with some tunes and without narration.

http://www.aimediaserver.com/studiodaily/harvard/harvard.swf

This second link shows the same clip, but with some narration and explanation (Super Speed Version).

http://multimedia.mcb.harvard.edu/media.html

Arizona and Alternators

A couple weeks ago, my uncle Kevin Morris called and asked if I'd have any interest in making a run down to his house in Gilbert, AZ to make a special delivery. The cargo? Three approximately 200 lb. barbeque grills.

The grills are pretty sweet, but are also quite large. It looked as though a truck would be necessary for the haul. This wasn't an extremely enticing option as gas has become decidedly expensive. A solution presented itself in the form of my father's 1990 Cadillac DeVille. I started taking dimensions of the grills and compared them with the potential carrying capabilities of the car. My initial response was- "No way". It pains me to admit that in this moment of weakness I doubted the Caddy.

I quickly corrected my faithless ways and we decided to try and fit one of them in the trunk. It fit like a glove- a snug one, but a glove nonetheless. Hope reinvigorated, we employed some serious packing wizardry and Tetris tactics to cram not one, but both of the remaining grills in the back seat.

My 1-2 day barbeque delivery turned into a really good and interesting 8-day trip. I had a great visit with my relatives down there in Mesa and planned to come home after a couple of days.

I received a call from my Dad while there. It turned out that he, my brother Kevin, and his wife Heather were on their way up to Lake Powell for a few days. I was invited me to meet up with them in Page, AZ on my way home. So, I extended my stay and planned to meet them in Page on Wednesday. It was a toasty 90+ degrees a couple of days down there. I went on a desert march around Usury Mountain one morning and saw a 3-4 foot rattlesnake laying out in the sun.

After I left Phoenix on Wednesday, I drove through Sedona and Oak Creek Canyon to Flagstaff. Sedona is kind of a tourist trap, but is also really pretty and was worth the drive.

When I got to Flagstaff, I went bouldering for a few hours at a place called Priest Draw. There's some excellent footage of the area in the Josh Lowell film Rampage (see films- rampage-trailer). Although unable to spend much time there, I was able to do some fun problems, and had a great afternoon.

As I was leaving Flagstaff, The ‘charge battery’ sign popped up on the Caddy’s dash. I took a look at it and filled up the battery’s reservoirs. It appeared to be running fine, so I rolled the dice and decided to make a break for Page to meet up with Kevin, Heather, and my Dad.

After passing through Cameron, the cab/dash lights started to progressively dim and then go out (my bouldering trip ate up most of the day’s remaining daylight). I still had functional headlights, but they too were rapidly dimming. I punched it with the hopes of reaching Page before everything died in the middle of the reservation.

It soon became clear that I wasn’t going to make Page and would be fortunate to even make the little town Gap (where I knew there was a gas station.) I drove faster with my lights growing dimmer and dimmer all the while. Just as I was ready to concede and pull over, I saw the gas station lights of The Express floating a couple of miles in the distance like a beacon of salvation.

I pulled into the station lot with very minimal light left and the car shut off. I can’t remember if I turned it off or it died on its’ own, but am pretty sure that it died independently right when I pulled in. Either way, I attempted to start it again and it was completely dead. The alternator had gone out and had ruined the car battery in the process.

Fortunately (understatement), Kevin was in Kanab at the time. He dropped Heather off at the motel in Page and he and my Dad drove out to where I was taking in the sights and sounds of the Gap. It was pretty late, so I notified the gas station attendant that I’d be enjoying some mandated down time with the Caddy in his parking lot for awhile and not to be alarmed. He was fine with it.

There was hardly anyone around (just the occasional motorist pumping gas), and I saw a highway patrolman pull in, look the Caddy over with me inside, and then drive off. I figured he must have just been making the most of a rare opportunity to take in the beauty and prowess of the Caddy at close range. It turns out; however, that his glare wasn’t one of admiration or of reverence, but of suspicion. He circled through once more about ten minutes later and then left. 20-30 minutes later, he returned and parked across the road and just sat there for awhile. By this time I was pretty confident that he was on a stakeout and in the process of running background checks on my plates.

Sure enough, after a little time had passed, he drove straight at me and parked perpendicular to the Caddy with lights on and spotlight blazing. By this time I had anticipated an inquiry, so I made sure my hands were visible to discourage any unnecessary friendly fire, got out, and briefly explained the situation to him. He was nice and reasonable about everything and went on his way. Thinking back on it, it’s hard to fault the guy; he was just being cautious and alert- how can you not associate a sweet ride like the Cadillac with Mob affiliation?

Anyways, my Dad and Kevin brought an extra boat battery with them, on which we were able to make it to Page.

We had a great time at Lake Powell. Our family spent a lot of time there when I was growing up, bur it had been about six years since I'd been back. The water was a little chilly, but in comparison to the summer crowds we essentially had the place to ourselves. The weather was great and it was a nice, scenic trip.

We threw in a new alternator Saturday morning and the Caddy was back to its’ previous F1 form. The boat trailer blew a tire on the way home, but we had a spare. Other than that the return trip went off without a hitch.

In Memoriam

I’d like to take a moment and pay my homage and due respect to two important and influental automobiles in my life.

I had a 1996 Jeep Cherokee for about 4-5 years and it was a fine ride. Its' ticker was composed of a 4.0 liter in-line V6 so it had good power (especially low end). It also had a supernatural turning radius.

With the middle seats folded down, you could easily fit a bike in the back (with the tires on) and it was plenty large to crash back there for the night if the weather was soggy.

The driver’s side door was slightly off, so there wasn't a complete seal. It also had loud tires and was geared low. When driving down the freeway, it sounded like you were riding in the back of an open cargo plane.

One fateful morn as I was attending the University of Utah, traffic backed up coming off the freeway on my way to school and I got blindsided by a Ford Expedition. The Jeep was pronounced a total loss by our friends at State Farm. Whether it was salvaged is a mystery to me, but hats off to a solid auto.

When I was pretty wee, my Dad bought a new 1991 Chevy Silverado (Blackie). Blackie was the complete package- a free spirit, a workhorse, a tug boat, an athlete, a concert hall, a beast of burden, a gentleman, a scholar; a symbol for good (weeping).

One Saturday morning about 6:30 or 7:00a.m. I got a call from my brother Kevin (the proud owner of Blackie at the time). He and a couple of friends had gotten a little rowdy about half way up the side of Mt. Timpanogos the previous night and had blown out a shock. I ran up a new one and we proceeded to surgically repair the wounded limb. The procedure went off without a hitch and Blackie came out of the situation stronger than ever. You couldn't help but stand in awe at the composure, grit, and fortitude exhibited by Blackie under the given circumstances- a real lesson in perseverance and nobility.

Blackie now resides in a semi-retired state finishing out its days in Lehi, UT.

Fairview

A few weeks ago, I went skiing in Fairview Canyon with my friend Sam Inouye and a few others. Sam is currently a second year medical student at the University of Utah and is a cool cat.

His family has a cabin up Fairview Canyon by Electric Lake. It's inaccessible by truck in the winter, so we shuttled our gear in with snowmobiles. Here are a few shots Sam took during the trip.

St. George, the Circus, and Fine Dining

Well, I reckon this be me first submittal to the bog.

Last week I went on a climbing trip down to St. George UT with a couple of friends (Mark Hammond and Todd Hammond) from SLC. We spent the first day in an area called Utah Hills (about 15 min. outside Santa Clara) and climbed at a wall called the Soul Asylum. The rock is high quality limestone with pretty grey and orange bands and really crisp, cool features.

We did an unusual climb called Petrified that starts out of a rounded off elevator-like shaft for about 30 feet and then opens out onto more of a slab to finish. It's a very enjoyable and memorable route.

A little ways down the wall, Mark lead an 11.d/12a called Soul Train and Todd flashed it soon thereafter. It's fun climbing with Mark and Todd for many reasons, one of which is that they're better and stronger than me, so in climbing with them I get to work on routes that I probably wouldn't otherwise be able to.

We camped out in the Utah Hills area. There were no clouds and a full moon was out that night. It was so bright that flashlights were unnecessary.

The following morning we drove into town and had a five-star dining experience at Denny's. I treated myself to a Heartland Slam- an exceptional offering of hash browns, sausage links, an egg/potato/cheese scrambling, and pancakes. The Heartland Slam is also an accurate physiological description of the meal's impact on your circulatory system.

After cracking out the defibrillator, we drove to an outstanding area called Welcome Springs. Welcome Springs is the home of some gnarly crags including The Cathedral and The Wailing Wall (Here's a pretty wild shot taken by photographer Keith Ladzinski of climber Andy Raether at the Cathedral- http://www.ladzinski.com/view.asp?id=923). We spent our time at the Wailing Wall and got on three really good routes. Todd and Mark worked a .13a called La Hobytla and are very close to sending it if they decide to go back and work it again. I pretty much just dogged up everything that day, but had a great time nonetheless.

On our way out, we were in range to witness a couple of bulls trying to work out their differences through combat. They seemed to be using an unorthodox blend of Muay Thai and Irish head-butting. It was a good battle.

Solid trip. My only regret is not purchasing this dapper spider-man ski mask we saw at the Outdoor Outlet to wear at important events and various bank transactions.

The next day, I got back in the car and drove down to Moab to ride AmasaBack with a friend named Jud Felt. It was Easter weekend and also happened to be JeepSafari week down there. Needless to say, it was quite a circus (OPEC has got to be a huge fan).

There was a full-on fleet of Jeeps on AmasaBack, so we opted out for the SlickRock Loop instead and had a good ride.

Afterward, we paid tribute to Mr. Dave Thomas (rest in peace) by purchasing one of the finer combo meals available in the world of fast food culinary arts- the Wendy's Spicy Chicken Combo Meal, w/drink substituted for chocolate Frosty. Mmmm-Mmmm.

We swung by the last technical section of Porcupine Rim on our way out of town. Jud had a couple of good runs at it and we saw a guy from Colorado hit a pretty sizeable drop, which he rode out cleanly.

A great few days.