Trader Joe's is Heaven

LEFT: Michelle spends the day hard at work sucking down margaritas while we all shop and pack. Note brazillian pool boy running over with another round in background










The day before a big adventure is always filled with nervousness and errands. Today in Fresno was no different, except for the fact that it was ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE DEGREES OUTSIDE!!! And, that's just ambient temperature. It was probably 130 on the blacktop. Luckily we had an open-top Jeep with no air conditioning.

I stopped in the motel office to check on some things, and found the funniest sight. There was a mexican couple checking in, and getting a room for two. About 10 minutes later, 3 pickup truck loads of mexican kids pulled up to the motel, and went with them to the pool, where they proceeded to spend about 8 hours owning the place. I guess that's the mexican equivalent of a theme park - adults pay $60, kids get in free. Cute kids though; they even came with their own battery powered margarita mixer.

We spent the day shopping for food and gear. Karen, had purchased a pair of $200 sunglasses (can you say too much disposable income?) on her last day in Boston. Unfortunately for her, she placed them on the TSA security belt at the airport, where they were confiscated for looking "to arabic". They did however look nice on the TSA screener. So, Karen had to go buy a new pair Fresno, which involved 4 shops, trying on about 150 pair, one salesperson who had heat stroke from going in the stockroom so many times, and us sitting in the jeep at 130 degrees waiting on her for 4 hours. But, in the end, they did look nice on her, and should help her marketly in her quest for the perfect Brazilian pool boy.

My favorite store of the day was Trader Joes. If you're unfortunate enough to live in a city without them, think the Armani of Food. Everything top notch, but 6 times the price of regular groceries, with hairy legged women working the registers, and earthy-crunchy, teva-wearing shoppers. I barely got out alive with my Buffalo jerky (the animal, not the city), and chocolate covered expresso beans. NOTE TO SELF: Taking chocolate covered express bean on a hike when it's 130 degrees was not my smartest move. Took me hours to wipe the chocolate out of the pack...

We're leaving at 4am for the drive up the mountain to Roads End (the real name), so I'm off to beddy-by with visions of bears eating my chocolate-covered express bean coated backpack.

Lumpy out

Garlic; No, Garleeek!

(Clockwise from Top Left): X-Games stunt rider "riding the rail"; Garlic mushrooms, soaking in garlic oil, with minced garlic covering; The Gilroy Garlic Festival mascot; Wonder why it's FREE??? Because you need a colonoscopy when you finish eating it!!!

Last day before I head into hike mode, and all eyes (noses, mouths, and colons) are on the Gilroy Garlic Festival. I'd heard about this for years, but never had the pleasure of attending before, so I just HAD to make it a part of my trip this year. The festival was awesome; bands, stunt boarders/bikers/bladers, and garlic everything. Anything that you could ever think of dipping in garlic was available. Various meats, vegetables, things on a stick, things in a bowl, and, of course, ice cream.

One of the funniest sights was the parking "lot". It was a HUGE furrowed field (where I assume they grow garlic) that everybody had to drive over. While in the jeep, I had no issues, but nothing funnier than watching car after car of porsche's, BMW's, etc having to drive through a field. Thank god I didn't bring my mini cooper along; the plow lines were higher than the car.

The X-Games exhibition was awesome. A 30 ft ramp, with competitors on stunt bikes, rollerbaldes, and skateboards all doing their tricks. 360's, 720's, and the boarder even pulled off a 1080 (3 full revolutions). A "flatlander" stunt cyclist actually flipped his bike completely over and "rode" upside down on his rear wheel. Very cool, and an awesome display of talent. Plus, they had cheerleaders. What more could you ask for?

Bands included a solid C&W band playing standards like Mustang Sally, Folsom Prison Blues, and Sweet Home Alabama. The rednecks were out in force, dancing up a storm. Somehow I think C&W music and dancing should be distanced from each other. Then there was a gal who I saw in the play Love, Janis (about Janis Joplin, an awesome stage show if you get the chance) doing a gig with her band. They were killer, and her Joplin was spot on.

After a full day at the garlic festival, and thanksfully to humanity with the jeep top down and a 4 pack of TP onboard, I drove up to Stanford in Palo Alto, met my new hiking buddy Michelle, and headed up the long drive to Fresno to rendezvous with everyone for the hike prep. The drive was uneventful by CA standards, given the 4 HOUR backup going over the hill for an accident, and roads named "15 3/4 mile road" (what drug were they on when they did these naming conventions?).

We arrive in Fresno late night, meet up with Karen and Bob, and go to sleep with visions of switchbacks dancing in our heads.

Tomorrow's Post: Hike Prep in Fresno..

Lumpy out!

Go West Young Man!

LEFT: Gilroy Garlic Festival runway

Monday morning, 4am, and I'm exhausted from my recent weekend training activities. But, off I go to the Rochester International Airport (International because apparently some Canadian once got off here) to wing my way out to California. Upon arrival, I fight the Bay traffic (ughh, back in a "big city" again), and head up to Mt Tam. It's actually Mt Tamaupululahiaimkahanamanamaiaiasteinbergshalom, but the locals all just call it Mt Tam. It's kind of sacred ground to us cyclist, as it's considered the place where the first mountain bike race occurred. As I drive up the mountain to go hike, I come across an old mexican man selling produce roadside. I stop and buy some cashews, banana chips, and other assorted fruits. He gives me a handful of cherries as thanks; they were incredibly juicy, so I buy a big bag of them and devour them, singing as I'm climbing up the mountain, and tossing cherry pits out the window at the porsche's driving by. Seems like everyone on Mt Tam drives a porsche (well, maybe the hired help drives BMW'ers). Lot's of money out here. I'm in a jeep (original, not some pansy-ass SUV) and driving over every object I can; bushes, concrete barriers, small children.

I hike a few hours out on Mt Tam, then head to my friends house in Sausalito. Now Sausalito, for those of you who have never been there, is a nirvana kind of place; situated right on San Francisco bay, populated with scores of little touristy stores and restaurants, and, when it's not under fog (which is basically 12-14 hrs/day), has incredible weather. I have dinner with my friends Deb and Ed, and stay at their shack on the bay. It's embarrasingly small (you'd think that they could have something more than a trailer after all these years), and only the addition of the elevator to take you up and down the FOUR floors makes the visit worthwhile. Well, that and the 187 smoke alarms that all went off simultaneously at 4am. I thought a freighter ship was driving right through the house. Ed was his useful placid, thoughtful self, as he ran through the house tearing the smoke alarms out of the ceiling one after the other, and tossing them into the Bay. He must have been a pillar of stability in the San Fran hospital ER working on the hermaphrodites!

Tuesday I head down to one of my favorite little seaside towns, Santa Cruz (SC). SC is kinda the consumate surfer-dude town, with an old amusement park, a VERY liberal downtown (the bookstore sells Al Gore books under "Conservative Manifesto's"), yoga studios, surfing beaches, and, of course, smoked hippies. Not smoked as in "I had some of that smoked jerky this morning", no, smoked as in "shouldn't have done that 27th tab of LSD last night". They were scores of them walking and laying around the downtown area, harmless, but a sorry sight nevertheless. I think this is where the slogan "A mind is a terrible thing to waste" was coined.

There's lots of interesting sights as I troll around SC; low-rider pickups totally crack me up, they seem so totally dysfunctional. Hey, I can put 4 head of lettuce in the back, and STILL have room for my Goya beans. Spanish radio is on full-volume in about half the cars; every other song has mariacha guitars and is about "mi corazon, mira mira" which (for those of you who don't speak spanish as fluently as I do) roughly translates into "My heart, it is exploding from the refried beans I ate for lunch". I eat stuffed burritos every meal (god, I miss real mexican food), and then try to get through the evening without a reverse colostomy. You get the visual.

It's interesting that the weight problem is not as pervasive in CA as it is back East; I'd forgotten how much better looking all the people are, as they actually get out of the house and do activities. Maybe there's hope for the 90% of kids who are going to be diabetics before their 16th birthdays after all. I stop at one diner for breakfast, and they have "not kidding here" the "migrant breakfast" - a 5 (five) (FIVE) egg omlette, hash (eatable, not smokeable), a 6 oz steak, 2 slices of toast, 4 slices of bacon, 4 sausages, and (my favorite) a small juice. I down two...hey, BP is finally under 200 since I've quit working, might as well live the wild life.

Along the culinary line, I also get to stop at my favorite snack shack, In-N-Out burgers. I never miss stopping on any trips to CA; they have the best burgers, fries, and shakes on the planet, bar none. I could live there.

After a few days R&R in SC, I head up to Gilroy, for their nationally famous Garlic Festival. More on that next post...had to be there to believe it

Lumpy

Back to Civilization

Hi all,
Just back to civilization today, after a grueling 20 hour return trip from CA to NY (ain't airlines great...). Will start the Sierra's post this week. Stay tuned, great stories!!!

Lumpy

The Sierra's Await...

Morning all,

Today is my last day at home, after a busy, busy week. I head out tomorrow morning for the High Sierra Mountains, and specifically to attempt a conquest of Mt Whitney, the highest peak in the continental US. <http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=EN&geocode=&q=Mt+Whitney+Ave,+Fresno,+California,+United+States&sll=46.88448,-113.97536&sspn=0.010823,0.028539&ie=UTF8&cd=1&mpnum=0&ll=36.532812,-118.340607&spn=0.814351,1.826477&t=h&z=10&om=1>

We (Gary, Gill, and Tom) did our last training hike yesterday, a pretty grueling 10 miler, with full pack (~ 45 lbs) over some of the hardest grades in the area. Bopple Hill is a notorious killer, with grades that top 20% in the middle (as opposed to the top, where most hills peak gradewise). After we finished the main hike, we went over to the local ski resort and hiked one of the main alpine ski hills. This just added to the brutality, and forced us into a position where we HAD to go get margaritas following.

Today, our friends from PHL are in town visiting, so we're off to kayak, followed by a BBQ at Casa de Lump. Always something doing on around here!

I'll be off-grid for about 2 weeks now (thru Aug 6), will post the story of the Mt Whitney hike upon my return.

Best to everyone, and see you on the flip side of the mountain.

Lumpy

16 Tons, and What Do You Get?

Title: An old Erie Canal spiritual (or maybe not, but it sounded good)

http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/16-Tons-lyrics-Tom-Jones/DF95C964D88B85DD48256B730006F634

TOP LEFT: Break on the riverside

TOP RIGHT: Da Crew (back) Jerry, Gary, Kathy, Peter, Carl: (front) Jan, Scott

MIDDLE: Gary at crest of Mohawk River waterfall

BOTTOM: View from inside Little Falls lock (40+ feet deep)

A couple years back, I came up with another hair-brained idea (a full-time job for me) to kayak the entire length of the Erie Canal in Upstate NY. Many have probably heard of the canal, but don't know that it was the largest public works project in the world at the time of it's construction in the early 1800's. The canal goes from the Hudson River near Albany all the way across Upstate NY, connecting up with Lake Erie in Buffalo. We decided to paddle Eastbound, as we were more likely to have a tailwind, thus cutting the time down some. Plus, the concept of doing a "flight" of locks ending in the Hudson River just seemed too cool to pass up.

We've done a leg or two each of the past few years, except for last year, when the "500 year flood" destroyed a significant portion of the canal from Utica eastward. So, we sat out the year, and we're off and running trying to wrap-up the paddle this summer.

The core group of paddlers are me, Carl, Scott, and Peter solo, and the spousal units (Kathy, Jan, Pam) relaying it. We get some other day paddlers also, Jerry, Tom, etc. along the way as their schedules permit.

This leg was to be from Ilion to around Amsterdam, including the key crossing at Little Falls, so named because, well, because there was a little falls there. Little as in around 40 feet tall that is! Until just recently, Little Falls was the tallest lock in the world; the Panama Canal is a junior model.

Also at Little Falls is Moss Island, a very good climbing spot with unspoiled rock, and great scenery. As we were waiting for one of the downstream locks to reset, we had a half-hour viewing of scores of climbers working the rocks. Jerry, our resident climber, narrated for us what they were doing right, wrong, and who was going to die that day. Better than having Curt Gowdy around!

We planned to do ~ 40-50 miles during this weekend, in what looked to be good conditions (some tailwind, mid 80's, no rain). Aside from the little falls lock, another highlight was to be dinner Saturday night at Beardsley Castle, an old castle that had been converted into a restaurant. Cool place, mediocre food, lousy service. If you're ever by, stop in and have a drink in "the dungeon"...very cool.

Most of the kayak was actually on the Mohawk River, and the destruction from last year's storm was a sight to see. At many of the locks, 4" thick steel railings were bent like plastic straws, at one the entire lock house (like a WWII concrete bunker) was completely swept away, and we came upon huge trees along the river's banks for miles on end. Nature 1; Mankind 0.

At one point we did over 8 miles in 90 minutes, which is basically like having a boat motor on the kayak. The front wake was so powerful that it was kicking up over the bow. Peter decided to try water skiing off the back of Carl's boat, that is until he realized that his newfound vegetarian lifestyle (AKA eat a whole pizza and an ice cream sundae 7 nights a week) had made him the size of Carl's kayak (4 feet around), with the cholesterol rating mirroring Orson Wells. Luckily the Coast Guard was nearby (why does the Coast Guard patrol inland waterways? shouldn't there be a River Guard or something like that) and they were able to pluck Peter, Carl, and Carl's kayak from the River with on of their helicopters. Peter has vowed to go back to eating pepperoni on his pizza as soon as we get back, which should get him back to his fighting weight. There's only room for ONE LUMPY in this world!

Logistically, the crew paddles basically from morning till dinner-time, and the spousal unit who is off-river brings the boat trailer up to rendezvous with us, and runs some errands to kill time (tracking down subs for lunch, antiquing, finding jewelry stores and outlet malls...). In this case it was jan doing most of the trailer logistics, and that was a good thing. At one point she saved us a FORTUNE by going to 4 gas stations to get gas for $3.17. The other stations were outrageous at $3.18. That damned President Cheney and his oil henchman, they're just robbing us blind.

At one point Jan is driving the trailer about, Kathy is behind in another vehicle, and a large white strip of paper goes flying down the road, just missing Kathy's car, and bounding on by. When the two of them stop at the next jewelry store, they realize that it was the FENDER from the trailer that flew by, and they have to go chase it down. That was problematic for the trip home, as a trailer without a fender basically throws up a 20 foot roostertail as soon as it starts raining; which it did all the way home. Man, did we get some one-finger waves from the drivers passing us; it must have been like driving through a waterfall!

After a long, tedious leg sunday afternoon we pulled out (of the water, you pig), packed up, and headed home (with a brief stopover in Cooperstown to see the baseball HOF). We've got one more big segment to complete later this summer, and then we'll have made the traverse. Next year we're looking at paddling the entire Hudson River, Albany to the Atlantic Ocean via NYC. That could be a very interesting proposition to say the least.

Paddlemeister Lumpy out...

Patches, I'm Depending On You Son...

TOP LEFT: Gary's incredibly cool patch for scaling Mt Phelps

TOP RIGHT: Bob, AKA "The Nair Hiker" (who wears short shorts?.....) by Indian Peak and Ausable chasm

LEFT: Bob and waitress Margarita discuss the size of Bob's Burrito

After two days of hiking, we spent the entire evening at a great mexican eatery in Saranac Lake. There, we were fortunate to come across Margarita Sanchez de Hidalgo, our new favorite waitress. Margarita had such incredible lines as "I'm from Syracuse you morons", "I'd rather cut off my left ear than be seen out with you" and "If you call me Margarita again I'll dump a plate of jalapenos in your eyes". Bob, forgetting his FCC fetish for a brief moment, fell in love again. Unfortunately, his Visa bouncing, coupled with his pocketful of alimony receipts didn't help his cause. He was however able to get an extra bowl of chips free, so we considered it a moral victory and went home feeling like winners.

The next day we started out with a visit to "The NoonMark Cafe", a local historical diner that Bob had been raving about for days. Of course, it was Bike Week (think hells angels and motorcycles) in Lake George, so we pulled in with our little subaru, and, unfortunately for us, Bob in his "Nair" hiking shorts. Now, I'm not one to embellish any details, but let's just say that when Bob ordered a "big sausage" with his eggs, the biker guys certainly perked up. We barely got the car doors locked before the crew of them caught us. If we wanted that kind of abuse we'd go back and see Margarita!

We did a full day hiking, then stopped back to the NoonMark to have a piece of their world famous pie ("It's all about the pie"). Personally, I think Bob was just after seeing the biker guys again, but anyhow the pie was in fact damned good. I had 3 pieces, Bob 5, and waitress Edna took great care of us.

Two interesting experiences on today's hike: Trail maintenance and Bladder evacuation. We ran across a couple trail maintenance guys deep in the mountain. They had saws and hammers and similar implements, and were cutting down trees left and right. They apparently volunteer for this, and were having the time of their lives; no power tools, just wilderness saws and a passion to cut things down. Bob got a bikini wax from them as long as they had some time to kill; not too shabby a job, and they only went through 3 sawblades.

The other interesting thing was that Bob apparently has the bladder of a 90 year old pregnant woman. He must have pee'd about every 30 minutes, which, actually was good for me as it gave me 5 minutes to catch up on the trail. I'm NOT going to introduce him to kayaking; he'd probably fill up a cockpit (hmm, that's why they call it that...) in an hour out on the lake.

Friday Gill finally arrived, and we finished with an ascent of Cascade Mtn, another stunning peak. When we got up top, soaked to the skin from sweating with sore legs, we came across 2 paraplegics in wheelchairs, having a bottle of chardonnay and some cheese. Guess it's time to start turning up the training....

Tonite, on to the Erie Canal for the next of our kayak weekends.