King of the Mountain

This weekend marked my official start to the ski patrol season. Unfortunately I had to cut my Christmas holiday visiting short but even more unfortunate was the weather forecast. Typically, I like to ride my snowboard in snow. I don’t mind if it’s cold or windy, but rain is a whole different story and that’s exactly what it was doing on Saturday. Even with rain and temperatures in the 40’s, the mountain stayed open.

Initially I wasn’t crazy about the idea of getting to the mountain at 8:30am to slide around on my board in the rain, but I figured since I had to be out I’d make the most of it. To my surprise the snow was really nice. Since it was warm and rainy everything was really soft. The mountain was virtually empty so I decided to test the limits of my board and have some fun. Also, Scott was patrolling with me so he grabbed his tele gear to get some practice.

After a few runs I realized that the conditions were truly fantastic. I could practically set an edge just by looking at it. I was digging trenches like a prison chain-gang. A few times I managed to drag my toes and bury the nose but it didn’t matter because the snow was so soft and forgiving. The mountain was ours except for a few other patrollers, several employees and about a dozen paying customers. By the time my shift was over I was soaked from head to toe but I didn’t care. I was having so much fun I decided to keep riding for an additional three hours. I even spent some time helping a new snowboarder learn some technique.

We were back on the mountain Sunday morning and the conditions could not have been more different. It was a bluebird day and much colder. Everything had firmed up overnight but as the sun continued to rise it softened up the cookies and made for some ideal riding. By the time my shift was over I was thoroughly worked and ready to get off my board. The riding turned out to be much better than I expected. The forecast is calling for cold temperatures and additional snow over the next week so hopefully it will be a solid season on the slopes.

Adult Santa

Contrary to what the title says, I’m not talking about a jolly man stripped out of his red suit having his way with a woman that’s been naughty and one that’s been nice (ho ho ho everybody). Now, if you could bring your mind out of the gutter I’d like to be a little more serious (but not really). This weekend I was having dinner with friends at Alison’s house and the question was asked if her kids still believed in Santa Claus. She said they no longer did but this got me thinking: why isn’t there a Santa Claus type thing for adults to believe in?

I’m not saying that grown-ups should try to convince themselves of something as obnoxious as a fat guy sliding down a chimney with a sack of gifts, but why not have something for adults to get excited about? The way I see it, once you stop believing in Santa Claus everything goes downhill. After Saint Nick is out of the picture it’s no longer milk, cookies, and trees surrounded by gifts. Sugar plums are replaced with shopping malls and lines and wrapping paper and trying to find presents that those on your list might actually like (or at least pretend to like). It takes a lot of work.

This is where a person or thing or abstract idea or amebic vapor would be useful because it would give me (as a non-Santa Claus believer) a reason to get keyed up about this holiday again. Granted, I truly do enjoy getting to see my family, the food is fantastic, and having some time off of work is a nice touch but the rest of this holiday seems to be more stressful than it should be. It would just be nice to know that falling asleep on Christmas Eve would mean that mustard companies would change back to the screw top lids. Now that’s something to believe in.

Happy Holidays Everyone!

A Dusty Shade of Pink

As a new homeowner I have developed a fairly substantial list of projects that I want to take on in order to improve and update my house. The dwelling was built in the fifties and therefore has a few items that need updating or improving. One of the items on the list is adding insulation to the attic.

This weekend my father decided to make a visit to the SC and help me with this project. He arrived on Friday night and the plan was to start working first thing on Saturday morning. We took a quick look around the attic on Friday (without actually climbing the whole way in) to see what the existing situation was and began to strategize for the morning. After several trips to the local big box home store we had 36 giant rolls of insulation ready to be unrolled.

My dad was first to go into the attic. I handed up supplies through the miniature opening in the ceiling and he staged them as best he could. On several occasions I heard a few expletives and, upon inquiring what was wrong, my dad said that there wasn’t enough room to move around. I knew my roof was low so the space was limited but I didn’t realize just how tight it was. Well, I was about to find out.

I climbed into the attic to be greeted by old, blown insulation that was plenty dusty, lot of cobwebs, and less room than I ever imagined. When I say it was was close quarters I mean there wasn’t enough room for me to sit completely upright at the ridgeline. It was not the most ideal situation but we were determined to make the most of it.

After about four hours of crawling, shimmying, wriggling, and using our hands and knees as feet, we had as much fluffy pink insulation installed as possible without compromising the ventilation. I also had more fiberglass pieces in my hands and arms than I cared for. Of course, with the weather turning cold, I’ve not only made my house more insulated, I’ve made my skin more efficient too.

Who Are You Talking To?

Recently I’ve noticed that I’ve developed an interesting habit. I talk to myself. While this might not seem like a big deal, I kind of think it might be. When I say I talk to myself I don’t me the occasional “What should I have for dinner?”. I’m engaging in full-on detailed conversations and I’m doing it out loud. It’s making me feel a little crazy. I’ve always had an internal monologue going in my head, but this is a whole different ballgame.

After a lengthy discussion with myself, I came to the conclusion that I might be feeling a bit lonely. Here’s how my theory goes (or at least what I’ve discussed with myself). For the past several years I was sharing a house with my friend Brian. We spent a lot of time together so I would talk to him. He typically wasn’t paying attention to my ramblings but there was at least another human that could have added to the discussion. Well, in July I bought a house and Brian took a job as a fancy-pants college professor. Now, I’m living alone and don’t have anyone except for myself to talk to.

I don’t think it’s that odd. I know plenty of people that talk to their pets (non-conversational talking) or sing along with the radio (musical talking) or spend time writing (silent talking). I’ve just decided to externalize my thoughts. What does seem to be a bit nutty is that I recently noticed I was having a conversation with myself when other people were around. That freaked me out a bit and made me a little concerned that I might be on my way to getting a house-full of cats, letting my fingernails grow, and wearing tissue boxes on my feet. Fortunately I’ve recognized this issue and I’ve decided it would be better for me to talk to other actual humans. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

Giving What You Can

About two and a half years ago I made a decision. It wasn’t a major life-changing endeavor, but more of a case of laziness. For the last thirty months or so I’ve been letting my hair grow (I told you it wasn’t a big deal).

This rejection of hair management techniques took on several different iterations. Originally it started as a way to keep my head warm in the winter. However, once the spring rolled around I decided to keep it for a little while and see what it was like to once again have long hair (I was once a stand in for Gene Wilder).

After a year or so, it started getting a bit obnoxious and people began asking when I was going to get it cut. At this point, I was just starting to enjoy the fluffy coif and began telling people I was growing it out so I could donate it. That answer was somehow a socially acceptable reason to allow myself to resemble a convict. After a while however, I realized I’d need to follow through on this claim. This weekend, in the spirit of giving thanks, I decided to make good on my plan.

At first I wasn’t sure if I was ready to give up my Sampson-esque locks but as my mom (that’s right, my mom cuts my hair) began laying waste to my curls, it became easier to accept. After about two hours the majority of my hair was gone. It was actually kind of nice to have my neck exposed to the freedom of the outside world. I knew it was the right decision when I asked my six year old niece what she thought and she replied, “Now you finally look like a man.” While I appreciate her youthful honesty, I’m looking forward to saving money on shampoo.

Talkin' Turkey

Lately we’ve been experiencing some unseasonably warm weather here in the SC. This weekend was no different. I was happy the weather was decent because this past Saturday was a special day. After doing some yard work I decided to fully embrace my role as the sole provider for my family of one. I did what any red-blooded male would do this time of year. I exercised my right to bear arms, grabbed my shotgun, and headed for the woods.

Saturday marked the end of the turkey hunting season until next spring. Since Thanksgiving is only a few days away I decided it would be fitting to provide a fresh wild turkey for the table. I met up with Brian at his camp about two o’clock. That didn’t leave much daylight for shooting, but I was overly confident I wouldn’t need much time. After getting into maximum camouflage and popping a few shells into my gun, we headed out.

About an hour into the hunt Brian and I found ourselves on top of a ridge where we anticipated the turkeys would return for their nightly roosting. We had about thirty-minutes of daylight left so we hunkered down near a tree to wait. Shortly after we got comfortable we heard that unmistakable gobble of a turkey, and he was close-by. We positioned ourselves just off the ridge-top so the turkey wouldn’t see us but unfortunately we were a bit too far off the top because we couldn’t see him either. Because of this predicament we decided to slowly head back to the top with the hope of seeing the turkey before he saw us.

With guns at the ready we made our move. Each step was calculated and slow. It was like walking on eggshells. Ironically it sounded like we were actually on eggshells because of all the dried leaves under foot. All of a sudden we saw our prize. At that very moment he must have seen us too because he started running and began to fly up into the trees. As I tracked him with my gun; finger on the trigger; waiting for the shot that would knock my Thanksgiving centerpiece out of the air; the business end of my weapon found a tree. I waited to hear Brian’s gun echo through the valley but all I heard was silence (followed by a few profanities).

As the final shreds of shooting light faded, Brian and I watched the last bird of the season escape to the safety of the trees. Empty handed, we headed back to the cabin. On the way back we recounted the missed opportunity and began to concoct a more dramatic story to tell the rest of the hunters. At the end of the day I was okay with the turkey escaping because the spring season isn’t too far off. Besides, the grocery store sells turkeys too.

Plus One

This weekend, after a long nine months, the little bundle of joy known affectionately as “Iggy” joined the outside world. On Saturday, Scott & Ieva welcomed a son into their lives. Not only do we finally get Ieva back into the fold (and just before ski season), we all kind of get a nephew.

While I already have eight nieces and nephews that are actually related to me, Iggy will be the first child born to friends that are a major part of my life. Sure I have other friends with children, but this is different because Scott & Ieva live here in the SC so I get to see them all the time.

I don’t know yet how having a baby will affect the limits of what Scott & Ieva are able to do, but I have a feeling they won’t skip a beat and pick back up right where they left off. After all, Scott & Ieva are pretty radical people. And if things get hectic, there will be more than enough people ready to help out when they can.

I just recently found out the specifics of Iggy (weight, size, name, etc.) and I’ve only seen one picture, but I know this kid will have lots of love and no shortage of things to do or people to help raise him. I’ll eventually get a chance to see the young lad but for now, the new family will get to be, well, a family. Congratulations Scott & Ieva and welcome to parenthood.

Summer in the Fall

You may recall me talking about the unseasonably snowy weather that trounced us a few weeks back. After the snow melted the cold started to settle in (as I would expect being November in Central Pennsylvania). Well, this past weekend the weather took another wacky turn. This past weekend, the weather became unseasonably warm.

Saturday and Sunday brought about clear blue skies and sunshine. The temperatures during the day danced around in the mid 60’s. It was a welcome change and allowed me to get a lot of yard work done. It also allowed me to get reacquainted with my road bike. Once the fall hits I normally saddle up on my mountain bike and play in the woods. Sunday, however, I decided to break tradition and throw a leg over my road bike.

The weather was great so I decided to head east on some flat roads. My plan was to ride out to Elk Creek Café in Millheim for some dinner and music. The best part was, I didn’t have to ride home. Cathy and Betty drove out to meet me and brought along fresh clothes so I didn’t have to spend the night in my kit. While my legs were a little worked when I finished, it was a really fun ride.

I don’t know how many more days I’ll have on the bike before I switch over to my snowboard so it’s nice to get in some saddle time while I still can. Soon the snow will fly (hopefully) and bike rides will only be in my memories. Weekends like this however, will make sure I have plenty of good recollections to last all winter long.

Ghosts, Candy, and Beer

This past weekend I decided to get out of town. It was Halloween and, since I’m not a big fan of dressing up, I decided I’d take a trip to my sister’s just outside of DC for a visit with her family (my niece and nephews). Since the shorties are still young enough to enjoy the dressing up and candy, I thought it would be fun to tag along with them while they went to shake down their neighbors for sugary treats.

My sister lives in a toney suburb so everything is lavishly decorated to accentuate this ghoulish occasion. In fact, one entire street has several houses that hire professionals to come in and decorate with smoke machines, haunted houses, and spooky soundtracks. They also seem to have the best candy on said street so once the kids were costumed up we grabbed a handful of beers and headed out. After all, in this area, it’s really more of a block-party than the Halloween I grew up with.

A light rain accompanied the warm temperatures that made the evening all the more enjoyable. The scene was more than I expected. The amount of time and money some of these people put into decorating their houses was astounding. Also, the number of people that were out was even more surprising. It was difficult to walk down the street (and I do mean the actual street) because there were so many people. It was however, a very social environment as the adults were having as much fun as the kids.

By the time it was all over, the two vampires and the witch that we took out with us had bags full of candy and were fighting to stay awake despite the sugar IVs they were given. I was also ready to get back inside to relax with a few less screams and howls. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone door-to-door on Halloween and watching the shorties get caught up in the theatrics was well worth it.

Change of Plans

So I was going to tell you about the work NMBA did this weekend to help reclaim some of the trials from last weekend’s gnarly weather, but instead I stayed up watching game six. Now it’s late and I’m tired (mainly from wielding a chainsaw all day long). I have a big week ahead of me and I really just want to go to bed so that’s what I’m going to do. Sorry, but sometimes that’s the way it goes…

Two Cycles Are Better Than One

This weekend in the SC we were inundated with some freakishly bizarre weather. It snowed; a lot. It wasn’t your average snow, but a very heavy wet snow. In some areas they reported accumulations of seven inches. As a snowboarder this would normally be fantastic, but in this case it was a different story.

Since we’re just getting into the heavy fall colors, the trees are still covered in leaves. This, coupled with the wet snow caused a lot of trees to lose branches or come down completely. They actually declared a disaster and opened shelters due to the power outages (that still hasn’t been completely restored). Fortunately I had power, but I, as well as several friends, had a lot of trees and tree related parts lying on the ground, hanging on roofs, or bending well beyond where they should due to the extra snow-load. In order to clean up from Mother Nature’s cruel joke I got to run my chainsaw.

I don’t often get to play with the chainsaw but it’s definitely something I really enjoy doing. I was offering to help friends, neighbors and anyone who had tree appendages that needed to be cut. There’s something about a finely tuned chainsaw effortlessly slicing through a piece of hardwood that’s quite gratifying. Apparently I’m not the only one who feels this way because the neighborhood sounded like a sawmill.

While it might seem as though I’m making light of the events from this weekend I’m not. It’s incredibly nerve wracking to lie in bed at night and hear nothing but the sound of cracking wood followed by loud thuds that you hope are not the roof of your house. Fortunately the weather warmed up enough to melt out the snow and give some relief to the over-stressed trees. Also, power has been restored to most of the community. Even with all the craziness, I was able to find one more thing that I really enjoy doing and now I also have some free firewood.

It’s All About The View

Fall is starting to settle into the Valley and the trees are starting to change. This weekend I was out in Rothrock for a bonfire, pig roast, and general merriment. Several of us decided to camp so we wouldn’t have to drive back in to town. As an added bonus, it was a fantastic night with cold crisp air that made getting zipped up my sleeping bag that much nicer.

Sunday morning was nice and sunny so on the drive out I decided to stop and take a few pictures. Looking down into the valley I was greeted with brilliant colors and some low clouds that were fighting to hang around before the sun burned them off. It was one of those views that you just need to sit back and take in. There was nothing but trees, hills, and Mother Nature doing what she does best. The pictures don’t truly capture the moment but it’s nice to have a reminder of why I live in Central Pennsylvania.

Things I Hate

While other people might disagree, I consider myself a pretty easy-going guy. There really isn’t much that I hate. In fact, I don’t even like using the word because it seems so harsh. Until recently there was only one item on the list of “Things I Hate.” That one thing was cobwebs. I truly hate cobwebs, with one caveat. If I’m in the woods were cobwebs are common, I don’t mind them. They’re supposed to be there. However, when I’m walking out my front door in the morning to go to work and take one in the face, I hate them. This weekend, I added another item to my list. The new affiliate giving cobwebs company is acorns.

I have a tremendous white oak tree in my back yard. It’s probably close to two-hundred years old and is very healthy. For about the last month this tree has been surrendering acorns. They have been ricocheting off my roof keeping me awake at night and accumulating on the ground. So many acorns had fallen that walking in the yard is like walking on marbles (those cartoon characters aren’t exaggerating much). Apparently there aren’t enough squirrels in my neighborhood to take the acorns away and since the majority of this tree fruit is now on the ground I decided it was time to take action.

After spending several hours raking acorns into rows and piles I was faced with the decision of what to do with them all. After some discussion with the neighbors and consultation with other individuals more wise than me, I still had no definitive answer. I reluctantly decided to add them to my ever expanding yard waste pile. After hauling about a dozen trash cans full of acorns across the yard, I called it quits. This constituted only about half the acorns that were relinquished by this massive white oak. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of them. What I do know is that right now, I really hate acorns.

Happy Anniversary

You may have noticed that I didn’t post last week. That’s because I was at the beach enjoying the sun, surf, and sand. It was truly one of the best trips I’ve had in a long time. It might have been because of the people I was with but for whatever reason it was absolutely amazing. I’m not going to tell you about it because I don’t really want to. Some experiences are just for me and this is one of those instances.

Instead, I’m going to talk about something a lot less interesting. This weekend marks the one year anniversary of this blog. I’ve come a long way from “Bacon Wrapped Barbeque Scallops.” When I started this blog it was difficult for me to figure out what to write about. I had some great ideas regarding what I wanted this blog to be and that it would have some great purpose where I could voice my opinion about topics as if anyone actually cared what I thought.

As it turns out this blog became more of a weekly journal about my doings. In a way, I’m kind of happy about that because it gives me an opportunity to look back and recount some of the adventures that I’ve been on. With all the craziness (and mundane activities) that occurs in my day-to-day it’s nice to look back and recount what I’ve done and where I’ve been.

It feels like this year (as with most) has gone by so fast I haven’t had time to enjoy it, but when I look back on the past 365 days I’ve done some pretty cool things and spent quality time with some really great people. There have been some ups (I bought my first house) and some downs (turning blue in New Mexico) but overall it’s been a really full year. The best part is there’s still more to come.

Fandemonium

I’ve been posting to this blog now for almost an entire year. In that time, I’ve had several visitors drop in and take the time to read the worthless blather that I’ve spewed out. I’ve also had a few regulars continue to stop by for a quick read. This past weekend I got the chance to meet one of the anonymous people that read my weekly post. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s a “fan” because that implies they might actually enjoy what I write. I thought it was kind of flattering, but at the same time a bit nerve wracking.

See here’s the deal-e-o yo; I found myself at a distinct disadvantage. I’ll admit, I’m a bit of a “Look At Me, Look At Me” type of person which also translates to a need to be the center of attention. Because of this, I like to dictate (read: be in control of) how a conversation might go. Here’s an example:


(Me) “Hi I’m Eric.”

(Other person) “Hi Eric, I’m [insert name here].”

(Me) “Let me tell you about how awesome I am. Also, I’ll take everything you say and turn it around to be something about me therefore emphasizing my self-centeredness and unquenched need for attention.”


Since this person I was talking to (let’s call her Emily) has been keeping up with my weekly ramblings, she had an insight into my world, yet I had no clue about her. To top it off, she grew up just down the road from where I grew up so she also knew about the geography that helped to shape my childhood. It was definitely not my normal conversation stream.

After a bit though, I came to terms with the situation because she was pretty cool (despite her being from the Valley). It was also nice to meet a complete stranger that has been patient enough to keep up with my day-to-day. Also, the possibly of having at least one fan (sorry Mom, you don’t qualify) is always a nice little boost to the ego. Oh yeah, and to the ladies at the Monday Night Book Club who tend to follow along as well, thanks for being my “fans” (even if you’re not).

Smoke ‘Em If You Got ‘Em

This was a busy weekend for me. Since it was the Labor Day Holiday (and therefore a three-day weekend) I made the most of it. I did a little of everything including visiting with friends, riding my bike, putting a new water pump in my car, cutting brush out of the yard (that was no small undertaking), and cooking food in a trash can. That’s right, a trash can.

See, I enjoy everything pig. From the bacon, to the tenderloin to the chops, and even the scrapple, pork is pretty much always delicious. I decided to make myself a smoker so I could enjoy one of my favorite types of pork, the barbeque. I found some make-shift instructions on the interweb for making a smoker out of a trash can so I figured I should give it a go. Getting the thing to function properly is a story in itself, but rest assured, about one year and way too much money went into this contraption, but I finally managed to get it working. This weekend marked the maiden voyage of Sir Smokes-a-Lot.

I’ll admit, I was a little skeptical about cooking food in a trash can, but I figured if there was someone on the net-xtravaganza claiming that it worked than who was I to question the legitimacy. I put a slab of meat in the smoker this morning and went about some yard work with frequent checks to monitor the temperature and smoke content. As the day progressed, everything seemed to be working out as planned. After about seven and a half hours I had a properly cooked and smoked hunk of meat that was quite delicious.

Sure I learned a few things along the way and may do some things differently for the next smoking but for the most part it was a success. The one change I’ll certainly make before the next time is switching from a plastic can to a metal one. No matter how much sauce you use it’s hard to cover up that taste.

Holidays for Everyday

So it’s a holiday weekend which means tomorrow will be my Sunday. Check back then for a new post will ya?

Moving On Up

Moving is never easy. I was recently reminded of this when I bought my house a few months back. It’s even more difficult when the move involves lots of bikes and bike related stuff (including lots and lots and lots of spare parts). Jordyn, Justin, and the rest of the crew at Freeze Thaw Cycles are in the process of moving their entire store to a new location so I decided to give them a hand with this little undertaking.

They’re only moving a few blocks but it’s a significant few blocks. The new spot is bigger so there’s more space for both inventory and merchandise; there’s more headroom due to a lofted second floor that’s open to below; but what the new space really has is a sweet location. Instead of being on the second floor of a cramped little alley space, this quality bicycle shop will be located right in the heart of downtown at street level. Anyone traveling down Allen Street will surely see the new storefront with bikes abound. And if you miss that, the colossus of a sign above the store will be hard to miss.

Sure I could have worked at my own house this weekend to cross some tasks off my (ever expanding) list, but I’m not on a deadline to get those projects finished. Assisting with the transition was a nice distraction and it felt good to help out some friends even though I was really just in the way most of the time. When the new store opens for business on Tuesday there will be a lot of very exhausted people who have been working their tails off to get this move completed. Ultimately though, I bet they’ll be happy the move is finally done and they can take advantage of the new address.

Effortlessly Rewarding

Recently, I’ve noticed a change in my personal perspective on what I consider to be a significant and fulfilling effort. Before, it would have required a burly feat such as riding my bike an obnoxious distance or some other adventure that, upon telling my co-workers on Monday morning, they would look at me in bewilderment and wonder if I had a screw loose. Lately, however, I’ve been finding joy in much simpler pursuits.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I just recently bought a house. Apparently, I didn’t only buy a house; I also bought a list of projects and chores to go along with the house. None of these projects are absolutely required; however they are items that need to be done. Individually they are small projects, but collectively they can be a bit overwhelming. In fact, some of the tasks have been lingering since day one.

Today I installed a new faucet in the kitchen, a new showerhead in the bathroom, put new locks on the doors, and got one box closer to being completely unpacked. These were all items on my list so today was truly rewarding, and I didn’t even have to turn the pedals over once (but that would have been cool too).

Cleanup on Aisle Two

This weekend I went on a three day - two night backpacking trip on the Black Forest Trail in Central Pennsylvania. Seven of us (plus three dogs) set out to do a 20 mile stretch which was roughly half the total distance of the BFT. I knew everyone in the group but was only close with two of the would-be hikers so I was looking forward to getting to know more about the other four travelers.

We met at Spring’s house on Friday morning to organize some gear and have a little breakfast before driving up to Pine Creek and starting the trip. Once at the trail-head we split into two groups. Four of us and two dogs started off to do the first stretch while the others drove on and parked near the first camp location. They set up camp, prepared dinner, and waited for us to arrive.

The first day was about six miles. The part I didn’t anticipate was the first two of those miles being straight up hill (for about 1500 feet) and the last mile straight down hill (for about 1000 feet). Normally that wouldn’t be an issue but throw in a false dog injury, half broken water filter, shin-deep stream crossing, an attacking swarm of bees, cell phone voice mail (seriously?) and over-loaded packs and you have the makings of a trip with more stories than I can include in this post (which is precisely the reality of the situation).

After the first day was concluded things started to settle in a bit more. Day two started out with bagel sandwiches, hot coffee, and first degree burns (those were all mine though). I wasn’t sure if that was an indication of the day to come but I hoped it was not, especially based on the previous day’s adventures. Fortunately, it was an isolated incident and had no bearing on our future luck.

Aside from the burly uphills and the precarious stream crossings, the rest of the trip went really well. All the camp sites we used were bonzer. They were right along the icy-cold creek which made for invigorating post-hike rejuvenation. The dinners were not only plentiful but also super delicious (thanks Jamie & Darcy). And the conversations by the fire; okay that wasn’t always appropriate but at least it was consistent from night to day (and back again).

By the time the trip was over I learned more about the rest of the group than I probably cared, but I guess that’s what happens when you spend a weekend with people in the wilderness. Thanks to Spring I have at least one more use for rocks, and to top it off I ran into Tomi (of all people) on the trial. It was a lot of fun and definitely a weekend I won’t soon forget.

Choo Choo

Since moving into my new house, I’ve had to manage without a few “creature comforts.” In particular, I don’t have cable hooked up at my house and therefore I’ve been watching a lot of DVDs. The other night a movie I was watching had the distinct sound of a train whistle running through the background.

So who cares, right? Well, as long as I can remember everywhere I’ve lived there have been trains. Granted, it’s not necessarily a good thing because while trains move massive amounts of freight they can also cause major backups at the railroad crossings. Regardless though, that familiar whistle was always there; sometimes a lot closer than I cared for but still, it was a constant presence.

It didn’t dawn on me until I watched that scene that there aren’t any trains running through town. In fact, most of the tracks have been taken up and the old railroad beds are now multi-use paths. There are, however, trains close by in Bellefonte. What does any of this mean? I don’t know, but it was the only way I could figure out to work in this great video. Enjoy!

Pushing the Limits

This weekend I slept in the back of my car; woke before the sun; hauled about 400 gallons of water and a truckload of food into the woods where I stayed for most of the morning; then left the woods and drove to a highway underpass where I stayed until almost sundown. This was all in support of the Wilderness 101 mountain bike race. We were treated to all kinds of weather and a lot of people tested their limits to try and complete the 101 mile race through the woods of Central Pennsylvania on Saturday. I’m completely worn down, got very little sleep, and I hurt even though I didn’t get on a bike. It wasn’t your average weekend, but I did get a pint glass out of the deal.

Bad Ideas Make Good Stories

Recently I was talking with a friend of mine and the conversation turned to relationships. He wanted my opinion regarding a certain lady that piqued his interest. At this point I informed him that I was probably the absolute worst person to talk to about relationships (as evidenced by my lack of female companionship). To further emphasize my point I decided to tell a story about a girl that I was quite taken with when I lived in Georgia. It goes a little something like this (hit it):

There was this girl I met through a work related project. She lived in Athens (Georgia) and worked for the University of Georgia in their historic resources department. Our paths crossed because my friend and co-worker Andrea submitted an application for the University to survey our little portion of the state in order to accurately document the vast historic resources that existed. After the application was accepted but before the survey work began, Andrea decided she wanted to leave the south and therefore I became the local contact for the project.

The University’s coordinator of the survey project was a very petite woman that wore very tall shoes. I immediately had a bit of a crush on her. The survey team spent an entire summer documenting the local resources and over the duration I got to know her and the team of students performing the work. One particular conversation we had was about her affinity for cooking and the fact that she wasn’t very good at it even though she tried very hard. This was a tidbit of information that I chose to hold on to and file away.

We stayed in touch for the next year or so even after the project was finished. It wasn’t a regular correspondence but still, there was continued communication. As my career path was floundering, I decided it was time for me to relocate. Before I left Georgia, however, I thought it would be a good idea to send her a little something to remember me by.

A friend of mine had a son who lived in Alaska and made wooden utensils. They were very unique and interesting so I decided that, since my far away crush was into cooking (as I remembered), I would send her a handmade spatula. That’s right, a spatula. I thought this would be a great idea and it would show her that I was paying attention to our previous conversations. I figured she would think it was a grand gesture and might find it a bit endearing. I boxed everything up, dropped the package in the mail (including my new information in Pennsylvania) and waited for her to contact me. Needless to say, I never heard from her again. It was at this point my friend realized the error of his ways in asking me for advice on the lady front.

I consider myself very mediocre at a lot of things and I’m kinda proud of that. Having the slightest clue about women is clearly not one of them.

Fun With Homes

This weekend, all of my friends were off being extreme at various races in different states. iScott finished an ultra marathon in Vermont (congratulations Scott!) while everyone else was in New York doing a mountain bike race (Six Hours of Power) and getting podium spots. While I had the option to go to New York, I (reluctantly) decided to stay in State College.

What did I do this weekend you ask? I mowed grass, cleaned gutters, took down part of a split rail fence, filled in the holes from the posts of said fence, unpacked some of my belongings and moved stuff from one house to another. Fortunately the owners of the home I was moving things from weren’t home so that made things a lot easier. Okay that wasn’t funny but still, this weekend was a lot of work to say the least.

People keep telling me that owning a home is a great idea. I’m not sure if I’m ready to fully accept that notion. I’ve owned a home for about three weeks now and all I’ve done is yard work, moved stuff, and spent money. It hasn’t been all that much fun. In fact, I haven’t even spent a night in the house yet. It’s a little slow going now, but I really do think it’s going to be fun and I’m looking forward to that point. I’ll keep you posted on when it happens.

A First Time For Everything

The weather this weekend was beautiful. It brought the perfect mix of sunshine and low humidity which made for ideal road biking conditions. I decided to do some hills. The climbs provide the right amount of suffering and the downhills make it all worth it.

When I go downhill I like to go fast; as fast as I possibly can. It’s not uncommon for me to use both lanes on a decent in order to maximize speed while minimizing braking. One of my favorite descents is off the back side of Black Mo down into Julian and that’s where I was at this weekend.

So there I was, bombing down the hill. At one point I glanced down at my computer and I was flirting with 50 miles per hour. It’s also important to note that the posted speed limit on the road I was riding is 35. This is a key factor in the story. As I negotiated a turn I noted a state trooper coming up the hill. I didn’t think much about it and continued to stay tucked in to gain as much speed as I could. A few moments later, I heard the too familiar sound of a siren. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that same trooper behind me and he wasn’t looking to pass. He was there to pull me over.

That’s right; I was pulled over by a state trooper while riding a bicycle. As I stood on the side of the road in utter disbelief and befuddlement I was issued a ticket for speeding. At first I was pretty jacked about what was happening but after I thought about it, the whole scenario became quite humorous. I asked the trooper if he often pulled over cyclists and he wasn’t amused. I reluctantly accepted my ticket and told the trooper I would slow down in the future.

While the above tale makes for a good story, it didn’t actually happen. I actually spent this weekend cleaning my new house and moving. That didn’t seem like it would be very exciting to talk about so I made something up. Sorry.

Expensive Pain

This past week marked a significant milestone in my life. I finally purchased my very own house. Everything was made official on Tuesday. While this is an exciting time for me, it’s also causing me a lot of pain.

The house has hardwood floors in a majority of the rooms so I decided to have them refinished. I thought this would be a good time to do it because the house is empty (obviously). Since I can’t really move anything in yet, I’ve been doing a lot of work in the yard.

I first looked at the house in early spring before anything had really started to grow. Now that we’re fully into summer and we’ve had more rain than I care for, the plants, weeds, shrubs, grass, and bushes have been growing like gangbusters. Over the past three days I’ve been trying to get a handle on the landscaping. All I’ve seemed to do is spend a lot of money on yard tools and wear myself down to the point where all of me hurts.

While I have a lot of work left to do both inside and outside of the place I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’ll probably spend a lot of time worrying about insignificant aspects of the house and that’s okay because at the end of the day I get to call it mine. Eventually the sore muscles and overwhelming amounts of work will give way to general maintenance and minor upkeep. It will be nice, however, to move my stuff in and start living there.

Aren’t You Forgetting Something?

Last week was interesting to say the least. By the time Friday rolled around I was ready to kick back and relax. I decided to go out for a nice dinner and have a beer. I hadn’t been to Elk Creek Cafe for a while so I decided to make the journey to Millheim.

When I got to Millheim I parked my car and reached into my bag for my wallet and phone. It was at that point I noticed I missed a call. I had a message from Cathy so I decided to call her back. I stayed in my car and chatted briefly before changing venues from the driver seat of my car to a seat in the bar.

As I opened the door to get out of my vehicle I heard an odd beeping noise. I wasn’t quite sure what was causing this annoyance. Everything in my car was turned off so I decided to ignore the beep and continue on my way. I locked my car and closed the door. At the exact moment the car door closed it became abundantly clear why my car was beeping at me. There, dangling from the ignition, were my keys. That’s right; my keys were now securely locked inside my car.

A lot of thoughts were running through my head at this point. First, I checked all the doors to make sure I really did lock my keys in the car. I had. I decided to call Cathy back and see if she was otherwise engaged or might be interested in driving to my house, getting my spare key, and then making the 45 minute trip to Millheim. She conveniently had other plans and suggested I call Triple A (and not the blues band). That seemed like a reasonable idea so I did. About thirty minutes later I had my keys in hand and was finally able to begin my evening as I had intended.

In the end everything worked out just fine. I ended up having dinner with the proprietor of Elk Creek and he bought me a beer for my troubles. Maybe next time I’ll check to see if anyone else wants to go with me and let them drive.

The Importance of Shoes

So I rode my bike this weekend. I know I said I wasn’t going to talk about that if I could help it, but this was not the usual kind of ride. This weekend was the CVIM charity ride. It was their first try at a ride of this type. Even though it was a route that I do all the time, I figured it would be worth doing because it’s a really good cause. Also, several friends were doing it so I decided to tag along.

The ride took place Saturday morning. The other thing that happened Saturday (morning, noon, and night) was it rained, a lot. I don’t mind if I’m riding my bike and it starts to rain. It’s a lot more difficult for me to get on my bike if it’s already raining. However, as I said before, it was for a good cause so Scott, Betty, Cathy, and I decided to gear up and head out.

The route we were doing was only about fifty miles. Normally, with proper gear fifty miles isn’t that tough. What makes a ride of this distance a bit more challenging is when a key piece of equipment is left on your kitchen counter, like cycling shoes. I’m obviously bringing this up because that’s precisely where Scott decided to leave his shoes for our ride on Saturday.

Clipless pedals are designed to be ridden with cycling shoes that have cleats mounted to the bottom. They’re not as effective when wearing approach shoes. You lose a bit of science (and look a little goofy as well). Fortunately, we weren’t in any great hurry to get through the ride. The deluge of rain kept our speeds low and casual. We were all pretty soggy by the end but it was fun. At least Scott’s cycling shoes stayed dry.

A Stoopid Departure

Okay, this won’t be the most exciting post in the world but it’s been a long couple of days and I’m tired so this is all you’re getting.

This was an interesting weekend. On Sunday the Rothrock State Forest played host to the Stoopid 50 Mountain Bike Race, courtesy of Shenandoah Mountain Touring. This race wouldn’t have been possible without a lot of great volunteers like the crew from Freeze Thaw Cycles and many other fantastic people (that includes you Cathy). It was an amazing day for a ride and a lot of cyclers showed up to race. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing that happened this weekend.

While having a wicked fun mountain bike race in my backyard would normally be the subject of my post, I’m not going to write about it. There will be plenty of other race recaps for you to check out if you’re really interested. The other event that occurred today was my housemate Brian departed for an excursion out west. For the next six weeks (or so) Brian will be mountain biking, fishing, skiing, and relaxing in Colorado, Utah, and Montana. When he gets back, however, I will have relocated.

I’ve been renting a room in Brian’s house for about two years. While that’s not a long time, He’s the first person I’ve shared a living space with since I was in college. On top of that, Brian will be moving shortly after he returns. It’s a big stage in both our lives because I’m buying a house and Brian is getting a real job so he’ll finally be using his PhD for something other than picking up women.

Here We Go Again

Lately I’ve noticed my blog posts seem a little boring. I feel like I’m just recycling the same post over and over again. Sure a few of the details are different, but overall the theme is the same; “This weekend I rode my bike, blah, blah, blah.” I don’t mean to imply that I take for granted the fact that I’m able to be active and have the fun that I do, but I’m beginning to realize I might need to write about something different.

Sure, some people might say bombing down a mountain road at 50 miles per hour on a road bike isn’t all that vanilla, but talking about it week after week tends to get a little repetitive. This weekend was no different. What happened you ask? I spent a night camping with Scott and Betty on Saturday and went for a bike ride on Sunday, but I’m not going to tell you about either of those things (I’ll show you a picture instead).

I’m not trying to imply that I need to incorporate death-defying stunts and other acts of danger (or stupidity) into my life on a daily basis, but every now and then it might be nice to have a story that involves boxing a kangaroo or wrestling a shark or riding an elephant or planting a tree. Of course, it would be a tree that produces bikes or snowboards or something cool, but I think you get the point.

In the future, I’ll do my best to incorporate more variety into these posts. I can’t guarantee the stories will be altogether true, but hopefully they’ll be interesting to read.

Life of the Party

This was a good weekend. While I managed to log some miles on my bike, I also went to a birthday party. This wasn’t a standard birthday party, but the first birthday for Sergio (the son of my friends Brittany and Jordyn). The first birthday is always special because you finally get to have an age that is measured in years instead of months. You also get to smash your hands into cake, throw it around the room, make a complete mess, and no one cares. In fact, people find it cute. When I turned 28 I had a little too much to drink and did the same thing at a restaurant except no one found it cute or funny, but I digress.

Since this was a birthday party for a one-year-old there were a lot of other kids there, which made sense. Kids are fun. They’re just miniature people that need a little extra attention. While I don’t have any of my own, I do have seven nieces and nephews (with number eight on the way). Also, several of my friends have either just recently had kids or are expecting.

It’s interesting because this influx of shorties didn’t happen overnight. The stork brought the oldest of my nieces and nephews almost eight years ago so this isn’t new to me. I think I’m noticing it more because the people I spend the majority of my free time with are having kids; therefore it’s becoming more a part of my day-to-day.

Overall, I think it’s fantastic. Kids are great because the most pedestrian activities are new and exciting to them. There’s also all the different experiences you can introduce them to such as riding a bike, seeing the ocean for the first time, going camping, or just getting to stay up “past their bedtime.” I imagine there are also some things that aren’t fun but I try not to get involved with that part because after all, I’m not one of the parents.

Miles & Miles of Miles & Miles

Pain hurts. Usually it comes with a hefty price that no one wants to pay because it’s bad. For me however, this weekend brought about a lot of pain that I inflicted on myself, and it all revolved around riding bicycles. Oh yeah, Brian was included to make sure the suffer-fest actually occurred because suffering is right up his alley.

I haven’t done a century yet this year so I decided it should be included in the weekend’s agenda. As I talked about it with Brian he suggested we do the Renovo loop. Brian and I did this same ride last year and it was fast but that was last year and I was in much better shape. Unfortunately I thought it would be a similar ride, but I was wicked wrong. Without getting into the details I’ll say this: I was glad we departed from Bellefonte because I might not have completed the ride if it was longer than the 101 miles we did. Even though it was a fast ride (by my standards) I was happy to be off the bike.

Apparently I didn’t get enough riding in during the death march that occurred on Saturday because I thought it would be a grand idea to ride trails on Sunday. Granted, my legs felt like sticks of butter that had been sitting out in the sun all day but I still wanted to ride. Needless to say, Brian was more than happy to get back out and that meant I was going to suffer again.

We ended up doing about four hours on the trails which as about three hours and fifty-nine minutes more than I should have done. This became blatantly obvious when I was struggling to turn over my easiest gear; regardless of the trail. Lucky for me the route we picked included lots of climbing on double track and fire-roads. Oh yeah, the hike-a-bike we did was also a world of fun.

I spent a lot of time on my bikes this weekend. It hurt. I suffered through hot and humid conditions while slogging along on a bicycle with only myself to supply the motor. I have cuts, scrapes, bruises, sore everything, and lots of pain, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Fill it to the Top

A lot happened this weekend. The weather was pretty good (for the most part) so I spent just about all of it outdoors. Saturday I finally got to enjoy some time outside climbing. It was the first time this year I’ve been on real rocks. I haven’t had much time to climb at all lately, let alone outside so I was really looking forward to this.

I met up with Scott, Ieva, and Cathy at the “Power Cut” in the lower reaches of Rothrock. As its name indicates, the Power Cut is an outcropping of rocks at the top of clearing for an electric transmission line. The rocks are nice but it was a little humid so lots of chalk was needed. After about two hours I managed to cut my hand and that marked the end of my climbing for the day. I was okay with that because I needed to get some supplies out to Brian’s cabin for an impending pig roast.

Brian’s cabin is a rustic little place on some acreage with a pond. It’s out of the way and has a great porch for sitting. Saturday turned out to be the perfect day for doing just that. By mid afternoon a rainstorm rolled through and the heavy drops on the tin roof mixed with a group of friends and some sweet tunes made the day just about ideal. Things went on like that into the night and a good time was had by all.

Sunday brought about some cooler temperatures which was a recipe for an afternoon of mountain biking. Fly Scott, Betty, Cathy, iScott, and I went out to Rothrock to ride the Coopers Gap area. We did a loop that included some of my favorite singletrack. It was a little wet in spots but that didn’t bother me. I was just happy to be out on my bike enjoying a day in the woods. We rode for about three hours and I felt good (except for the two times I went down).

It’s weekends like this that make me realize just how fortunate I am. Sure there are some aspects that I might change, but let’s be honest; I have no room to complain. At times I even feel a bit guilty. I’m lucky enough to have so much happening on the weekends the biggest part I seem to be missing is sleep.

A Tale of Two Trails

This weekend marked the grand opening of a new trail system at Raystown Lake so Scott, Ieva, Cathy, and I decided to go for a ride. The Allegrippis Trails were built for multiple uses but on Saturday it was all about mountain biking. Amid much fanfare (which I didn’t get to see) the thirty plus miles of buffed out singletrack officially opened for use.

The Allegrippis Trails are unique in that they are nothing like the trails we normally ride in Rothrock. They were designed with the mountain bike in mind. There are lots of wooptie doops, banked turns, and swoopy stuff that make it wicked fun and super fast. There are no rocks, logs, or roots to slow you down. The trailhead is only about an hour away but it felt like we were riding out west.

We ended up riding for about three hours and while it wasn’t the usual rock-fest I’m use to, it was still more of a workout than I expected. I was dirty, my bike was dirty, and my back was sore from hitting all the kickers. I have to say though, it was totally worth it. It’s amazing that Central Pennsylvania can have such a diverse and exciting mix and variety of trail options that are so close. I have a feeling this is going to be a fun summer in the woods.

So Long and Goodbye

It’s that time of year again when things start to quite down in the SC. That’s right, it’s finals week and slowly but surely the students will be dispersing. Some will graduate and leave for good, some will go home to live with their parents, others will depart for internships, and a scant few will stay around for the summer. Regardless of where they go, the important thing is they will not be here.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy having 42,000 students infused into the community. They provide an energy that wouldn’t otherwise be here. Without the students, there wouldn’t be a university and therefore a “Happy Valley.” Without the students this would just be another stop on the railroad. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, the students are an integral part of this town.

For the next three months however, the streets will be easy to navigate and relatively free of traffic. Getting a table at a downtown watering hole at 10:00pm on a Friday night won’t be an issue. Parking spaces will be plentiful. Waiting in line won’t be necessary. Lazy days will be the norm.

Eventually though, the quite will change. People will begin talking about the upcoming football season and tailgating. Hot weather on the trails will turn to thoughts of fall mountain biking. Before you know it, the students will be returning and it will start all over again except there will be a new group of freshman that have no idea what they’re really getting into. Either way, I’m going to enjoy the next three months and soak in as much of the quite times ahead.

Let's Play Steak

I just got back from my outing in Minneapolis. I’m worn down from several nights of poor sleep (even though my room situation was resolved) and catching up former colleagues, not to mention spending all day in training sessions. On our last evening in the city, a group of us decided to go big and have a nice steak dinner. It turned out to be a larger than life experience.

I like food and don’t mind spending money for a good meal. This however, was a new experience for me. Our waitress (Heidi) was a spitfire to say the least. When we told her it was our first time in this particular establishment she wheeled out a huge cart with various cuts of meat (and lobsters too). She explained the quality of the cuts while showing us examples. Next thing I knew she was picking up a rib-eye that I thought was straight from a dinosaur. The bone sticking out of this thing was almost the size of my arm. It looked fake. When this was followed by the 40 oz.“double porterhouse” I took it as a sign that I should order the smallest piece of meat on the menu. Actually, I think we all did.

The food arrived a short time later and it was plentiful. My “small filet” was probably about 12 oz. cooked. We could have fed everyone at the table with just the side dishes. We managed to eat most of the food and we were all pretty full. Even though most of us couldn’t eat another bite, Heidi convinced us to get dessert. Fortunately we had the wherewithal to order just one piece of key lime pie for the table. When it arrived I thought it was a whole pie. It seemed a fitting end to the meal.

Needless to say, the food was fantastic. Everything was cooked perfectly. The bill scared the hell out of me but that was expected. After all, the “double porterhouse” was listed on the menu at $92.00. I don’t know if it was worth it, but we all had a good time and laughed a lot. For some reason though, I doubt the office will reimburse me for this “business expense.”

The Joys of Traveling

Saturday I departed from the SC bound for Minneapolis to participate in the American Planning Association’s National Conference. A coworker and I left from State College about 4:30pm. It was the last flight out for the day. We had a short layover in Detroit before continuing to Minneapolis. The weather was nice and we left State College on time so I was hoping that was an indication of what was to come. It wasn’t.

Our flight was about an hour late departing Detroit because the flight crew taking us to Minneapolis was delayed getting in. There was also some bad weather in the area so I figured even if the flight crew was on time we still would have been delayed because of the thunderstorms. I was okay with it and the Detroit airport has some cool underground walkways with really “trippy” lights so that provided some entertainment while we waited. Eventually we departed with little fanfare and arrived about an hour late in Minneapolis. We took the train from the airport into downtown and proceeded to our hotel. It was about 10:30pm when we got there and then things got interesting.

We had two rooms reserved (as there were two of us traveling). I was under the foolish assumption that by making a reservation and securing it with a credit card I would have a room waiting for me. Oddly enough, I was the only one who thought that. The desk clerk proceeded to tell us they had only one room left in the entire hotel. It had two beds and was a smoking room. That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

To compensate us for the “mix-up” the desk clerk said they would pay for us to stay at a nearby hotel and have rooms for us the next day. I was tired, cranky, and didn’t feel like dragging my suitcase another three blocks only to bring it back to the very spot I was in. He continued to tell us that we could have the smoking room at half price. I asked if they could just comp us the room. He said no. Slightly confused I said, “Wait a minute. You can pay full price for two rooms at another hotel but you can’t give us one of your rooms for free?” He said, yes, it’s the hotel policy.” I didn’t understand and this concurrence stoked my already agitated state. Fortunately I managed to keep my cool and didn’t tear the guy a new one.

We took the room at half price and the hotel threw in two bottles of wine for our troubles, but I have to say, there are not many more things worse than trying to sleep in a room saturated with stale cigarette smoke. I made sure to not unpack any of my clothes and risk having them soak up the stench. I considered just sleeping in the lobby, but I decided to out for a few beers to unwind.

I had a terrible night of sleep and I’m still not sure if it was worth it. Soon I’ll return to my hotel and get my new room. Hopefully a nap in a less toxic environment will do me some good. I just hope the rest of the trip has a few less surprises.

A Weekend of Bikes

I like bicycling. It doesn’t matter what kind of bike, I just enjoy spending time riding two wheeled machines that require me to supply the power. When I lived in Georgia I was almost exclusively a roadie because where I lived was flat, swampy, and devoid of mountains. When I returned to Pennsylvania I got back into mountain biking because let’s face it, the trails here are spectacular. This weekend I got a little bit of everything.

Saturday started out with Brian and me heading into Rothrock to ride the trails. It was a bluebird day with temperatures in the upper 60s. Add that to the fact that Brian recently got a new suspension fork for his bike and I knew a suffer-fest was not too far away. Needless to say his fork performed better than I did. After about the third hour I was running out of energy and shortly thereafter I ran out of water. By the end of the ride I was pretty well worked and ready to get out of the saddle.

The forecast for Sunday called for rain so I wasn’t planning to ride, however the weather predicting people were wrong. Since the weather was cooperating, Brian and I got out the skinny tire bikes for a short recovery ride. We were out for just over an hour but that was okay with me. It’s still early in my riding season so my legs aren’t quite acclimated.

Sunday evening I finally got to work on a project I’ve been putting off for almost a year. I started breaking down my first mountain bike (circa 1992) to begin it’s rebirth as a signal speed townie cruiser. It’s almost completely original (including the tubes) but well worn. It’s been a very reliable steed but lately I haven’t used it for much more than a bar bike. Hopefully I’ll be able to get it built back up in a few days and have it back in service to get me around town.

Yep, it was a weekend of bikes and it was great.

Stop Me If You've Heard This One...

So a pig and a giraffe are riding along in a canoe when they come upon a giant rabbit. The pig looks at the giraffe and says, “Look, it’s a giant rabbit. How weird is that?” The rabbit looks down at the pig and the giraffe and says, “Screw you.”

I realize it’s not the best joke in the world, but it was a lot funnier when my three year old niece told it to me.

This weekend I went home to visit my parents and spend some time with the family. Since it was Easter, everyone was congregating at my parents for the food, merriment (or chaos), and egg hunting. I hadn’t been home in about three months so it was nice to get back and catch up with everyone and hear the imaginative stories my nieces and nephews concoct (as evidenced above).

Easter is one of those “holidays” that doesn’t really make sense to me. Without waxing too religious, I can’t quite figure out what rabbits, chocolate eggs, and jelly beans have to do with the resurrection of Jesus, but I’m okay it. Sometimes it’s best to not question the reasons and just accept the sugary goodness that has become a staple of the day.

Even though my niece didn’t really say the stuff above, it was still great to visit with the family and see how much the shorties have grown. Some things stayed the same though because the older ones still chase each other around and ignore me while the younger ones are still a little scared of me. Eventually, however, they all took time to give me some love. Of course I was sitting close to the candy.

Flying Solo

Well it happened. It took longer than I would have preferred but the weather finally cooperated (for my personal preferences) and I was able to get in my first real road ride of the season. I realize I did a ride back in February but it was so cold I couldn’t feel my feet and therefore (in my opinion) it didn’t count. Today was a different story.

Unfortunately all of my usual riding companions were either out of town or already had ride plans so it was going to be me, my bike, and the road. I was okay with that because I’d be able to ride at my own pace and I could change the route if needed. After all, it was my first ride so I wasn’t sure how my legs would hold up.

I decided to ride to Spring Mills and back. It’s a relatively flat and rural route that stays in the valley and therefore is mostly guarded from the wind. There’re also no real hills or traffic to speak of so that was a plus. The afternoon temperatures were in the mid sixties and the wind was mild. Conditions were pretty ideal. I had a slight tailwind heading out so I was feeling like a rock-star. The ride back wasn’t quite as easy but it was still fun.

I ended up spending about three hours on the bike. Soon the weather will stay warm, the days will be longer, and I’ll be able to spend more days (and more hours) touring around the sweet back roads and state forest trails. It may not be the most cosmopolitan place in the land, but Central Pennsylvania is a great location to ride.

Mercury Rising

Once again I was duped. Brian told me it would be a great idea to wake up at four in the morning (on a Saturday no less), get in the car, and drive three hours to fish in a shallow creek just outside Erie, Pennsylvania. The plan was to try and catch Steelhead trout that were running back up the creek to spawn. I decided to go because I thought it’d be worth the experience and after all, Brian only goes big.

Daylight was just starting to break when we got into the stream. There were people everywhere. It was elbow-to-elbow on the upper reaches of the creek but we weren’t discouraged since there was plenty of water to explore. The morning got off to a slow start but eventually we found some quality pockets that were willing to give up the fish. After that, the day (and the fishing) got better.

For all intents and purposes we got lucky. We got onto some fish; a lot of fish. The sweet symphony of fly line being ripped off the reel as a fish runs for deeper water (or safety) is something that resonates indelibly. Of course landing the fish that sends you on a twenty minute “tour of the creek” is also something to savor. We decided to keep a few fish but we threw most of them back. It turned out to be a great trip with fantastic fishing. It was a long day but when you're crushing the trout it's completely worth it.

The Great Vacation Sham

As my loyal readers know I was just recently on vacation. A vacation, by definition, is a break from work where you’re suppose to rest, relax, recreate, or do whatever you want. It’s a chance to leave your normal nine to fiver behind and spend time doing something of your choosing. That’s all well and good, but I’ve recently discovered a major flaw with this approach. Work doesn’t stop while you’re on vacation; you just stop doing work.

Every time I return from a vacation I inevitably say, “I could really use another vacation.” This is usually because the amount of work waiting for me when I return is double what it would have been had I not taken my vacation in the first place. It seems like a rather back-handed reward for spending time away trying to relax and leave your normal responsibilities behind.

I don’t know, maybe I’m over thinking this, maybe I’m being unrealistic, or maybe I’m finally coming to the conclusion that the world doesn’t revolve around me and everything continues even when I choose to take a break for a little while. Whatever the case may be, here are some additional pictures from the big trip to New Mexico. I’d like to write more, but I need to get back to work.

Changing Seasons

Now that the snowboarding season is all but over, it’s time to get back into the riding season. Sure I’ve already done a road ride (on a wicked cold day in the snow) but until recently it’s been tough to get into the trails because of the snow and ice on the forest roads. I recovered enough from my bout of illness last week to get out, but I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy day so I didn’t have big expectations.

Before saddling up on our bikes, we decided to help out and build some trail with the local mountain bike club. I spend plenty of time throughout the year riding trails but I often take for granted the hard work that goes into creating the sweet singletrack that gives me so much pleasure. Most of the trail work involved clearing the rocks that Mother Nature scattered along the proposed route and then putting them back in a less random order so they could be ridden. It wasn’t rocket science, but it was still hard work.

After about six hours of trail building it warmed up enough to actually start riding. Unfortunately I was sufficiently tired and didn’t have a lot of energy. Since this was the first mountain bike ride of the season for all of us (Cathy, Alison, and I) and no one was feeling in top form, we decided to do a short loop and that was okay by me. We were only out for about two hours but that was plenty. I was a little rusty in the rock gardens but at least my lungs held up. It was a good day all around and I’m looking forward to a solid season of riding in the woods.

Vacation & Health; Part II

I don’t consider myself a liar but in my last post I may have stretched the truth a bit. I said something about getting back out and getting into some fresh powder while enjoying the last few days of my New Mexico vacation. I was wrong.

The bottom line is I got my ass handed to me. I thought I’d be able to rally from my cocktail of illnesses and get some more riding in but that was not the case. Instead, I got to spend the last three days of my vacation in the town of Taos. Honestly, that’s not as exciting as it sounds. Taos is at a mild elevation (about 6,900 feet) compared to Taos Ski Valley (where the actual slopes are) at about 9,500 feet so while there was no place to use a snowboard, it was better on my lungs and elevation sickness. Even though I didn’t want to spend my days in Taos, I didn’t really have a choice.

Each morning was a struggle for me to get out of bed. After spending the better part of the night coughing and puking, I would wake up (from the minimal sleep I managed to get) with a ridiculously painful headache, nasty fever, and nauseated feeling in my stomach. It was difficult to stand up and I would get winded walking up or down stairs. I figured my only options were spending the days in Taos or in a hospital so I chose Taos. Besides, it was on the way to the Ski Valley so I could get dropped off while my friends went on to make fresh tracks.

Yes it sucked. Yes I still feel terrible. Yes I missed out on the freshies at a world class ski location. Yes I was pissed off that I was sick. In the end however, the rest of my friends stayed healthy and didn’t have any issues. I guess if someone had to “take one for the team” I glad it was me. They all got to spend an amazing time on the slopes getting worked and I got to hear all about it.