a qwik thanks.

out surfing the webz,
stumble across this
on a political site...

Secretary of Trans Blog

Soooo, just wanna say
thanks, a huge, HUDGE!!,
thanks to all you fellas
and ladies out there on
the advocacy front lines.

Times are a changing,
shake a hand, a pat
on the back, buy your
advocate friend a beer
for doing the work
that benefits all of us
two wheeled lovers.

Thanks everybody!

From the DOT press release:

Conclusion

Increased commitment to and investment in bicycle facilities and walking networks can help meet goals for cleaner, healthier air; less congested roadways; and more livable, safe, cost-efficient communities. Walking and bicycling provide low-cost mobility options that place fewer demands on local roads and highways. DOT recognizes that safe and convenient walking and bicycling facilities may look different depending on the context — appropriate facilities in a rural community may be different from a dense, urban area. However, regardless of regional, climate, and population density differences, it is important that pedestrian and bicycle facilities be integrated into transportation systems. While DOT leads the effort to provide safe and convenient accommodations for pedestrians and bicyclists, success will ultimately depend on transportation agencies across the country embracing and implementing this policy.

Ray LaHood, United States Secretary of Transportation

First ride

there's always a first ride
another first ride. Ridden
for the first time. An old
loop, but first ride. A reboot
in soooo many ways. Today
was a day, a good friend
is good, keep an honest
pace in an honest way, the
way home is always qwiker.
Skin of the teeth.




Singletrack

knobby clump loam
disconnected Cheshire 
Grin breathing

rockin' the leathers.

Title block of the viddy
pretty much sums it up
brings a smile fer sure.

work

hands weary, wish for
cork wrapped aluminium
to drape over.

44, 45...that's a wrap?

do I stay, or do I go now, then,
to there. to there once more.
one. more. time. more time,
more time. weigh the options,
not ready yet, not ready in the
head, not ready for Cupcake
spring reunion ride. Ski,
celebrate spring, ski, again.

ski

harvest corn and Luau it up
for the day at T'line, blasting
about around and down the
mountain. Retaining passages
from Skiing Zen, don't overthink
it, don't examine it, just turn and
have fun, and have fun and have
fun and just turn and be anonymous
on a mtn I've never skied. Oh, got
pinched by ski patrol on that first
run, ooops...blah blah, closed, blah..

Closed? what? rope? where?

"We don't use ropes here..."

oh sorry, now I know...
I'm not from around here.


more blah blah blah, can I ski now?

Hard early bumps with some
fast skiing to find our edges,
I'm glad Sarah likes to let 'em
rip now and then. Mix it up
with plenty of glades, open
Cherry zipper pickin's and a
bit of combat styley thru 'why
are we in here??' lines...

Another late afternoon double
beer/Bailey the Dog break and
hook up w/ Chipper, Chaga
and the Chase boys and have
a hella good time chasing the
Evo shod wvunder skiers around
the hill, riding it out until last lift.
Spectate the torch light w/ Bailey,
drunken firework & flare silliness,
then back to WG for insane mouth
melting Chef Curtis cafe' leftovers,
quizzing him about whitewater,
listening in on Tibeten medicine
conversation before slumming
back to midnight IceBox.

Out. Cold.

no alarm, no nothing, just peaceful
slumber arrising, man, that damn
blue Icebox 'bed', a simple sheet
of plywood w/ egg crate foam is
about the most comfortable thing
I've ever slept on. No traffic, no
noise, layzzeee ski morning routine
is dialed, coffee, amazing local
newspaper news...what's going on
in Whitmer? "Jake Hubbard spotted
200 geese flying north over the
North Fork on Tuesday evening,
a sure sign of Spring..."

To WhiteGrass, Sarah on the same
tour prospectus wavelength, she
grabs an Evo setup,rocking the nnn
bar and we hook up with the crew...
Chipper, Stro, Sue, Gisella, the good
Dr, puppies Melly, Bailey and Ruby,
and and and, Justin caught us and
joined in, and then Chaga & Leslie
couldn't resist the springtime ski
party over off Baldy..seriously, it
was a freakin' ski freak party on
skis, man...we just sucked in skiers
like a vortex, or something, ya know?

I mean, talk about just skiin' to just
ski and to try to 'capture the madness!'
Chip is an inspiration to be out on
the mountain with, first full Chipper
tour I've been on, what a blast, what
a way to wrap it up. Humbled now
and then by the leathers, inspired by
those rocking the bar, amazing what
you can pull off soft shoe style when
you trust yourself, trust that ninja
instinct...when the groove is there,
when it's there, it's there, there in
there, now, there and now for now,
those moments that you see as there,
but are there, an instinctual puppeteer
now...the puppy dogs know, they know,
that's for sure, look how freakin' happy
they are, all. the. time...ski around and
down most of Baldy, into Springer to
FlatRock and hucking grass bare spots
with plenty of lightweight nord repeats
and qwik hits for shits n giggles until
one more blasting run down down the
main slope into a laid back outside apres'
chillout and refuel, consisting, of course,
of one more plate of nachos, IPA in a
pitcher, wine tastings & other elixers
before season ending hugs all around,
punch out of the log book in Barry's Wurld.....

then, yeah, one more zoned commute,
letting it all. soak. in. It still is, will be,
whew, yeah, wow.

that's one hell of a season, thanks,
thanks, thank you. thank you to
everybody who shared it, amazing,
amazing times. and now I will pedal,
maybe go for an unintentional
swim or two..



Ski boots muddy,
as they should be,
long winter's splendor.

driving home.

so many thoughts,
wish for magical
Haiku feather.

pome

"Blooney Breath"

January plow trucks
throw sleet in turnpike mist.
Revolving lights of police cars
armed with new gizmos
at strategic highway posts
to check your blooney breath.

Waiting nervously in line of cars
you munch potato chips
wondering
What country am I in?

Land of proper I.D.'s
and no red eyes please
Road block neon Ark baloney.

"I suspect you to be under the influence
of life in the United States of America.
Take'm down Butch,
throw the book at 'em."

-Lance Clewett

west wind

out the door, to the street
feel it on the cheek, warm
nip of breeze, catching your
attention out in the open fields.

hello my friend, my mentor,
will you help wipe the brain
clean of thought today?
will you sternly remind
me that it's about circles?
not squares. will you allow
me to dance with you, now
and thru these long blustery
spring days as I find my stride?

Will I find that soothing tempo
winddance spin again? early
gumption meets reality, just
settle in, settle in and realize
that here, now, that the legs
aren't there, here, yet. not
here, now, to work yourself
into that pain denying solitary
thoughtless focus.

realize that here, now, these
are the days to get lost in
thought, and as usual, it's
gonna take a few of 'em to
figure out this goofy waltz,
days, thoughts, always does,
out there working with my
mentor, the wind.

where the fuck am I?

this is a strnage place,
in between seasons with
no real forward looking goal or achievement on the tic list. I mean, I do have rides to ride, rides I want to ride, rides I want to get done. but none of them are of the racing genre. I just need to be in decent enough shape to get thru 'em. This is a wierd place to be in mid-March. my ride tally since Jan 1 is a handful of spins to the [ost office/beer shop/errands around town and one, 1, siingle road ride last week for 1:20.

but, that doesn't mean I'm fat n out of it, quite the opposite I found. Since I rode the road bike, I also stood on the scale, again, first time since Jan 1...and, shockingly, I'm at summer weight right now in the here and now, hmmm, what's that mean? At most, it means I wasn't lazy this winter, for a change. Finally broke the 40 day ski season, phenominal year! fuck yeah. looking at the og, I only hit Roundtop 15ish times, Whitetail once. 20ish at WhiteGrass Icebox nirvana, and a handful schussing around our local hills, coulda, shoulda snuck in more local nighttime XC...those days of travel left me spent & occupied for chasing the afterwork dragons, lots of gear shuffling and recovery going on during those school nights.

so now what...I dunno, feeling it out, no huge motivator to push me out into it head on for the ramp up to the season. banter already tossed about about the spring race, course loop layouts, scouting missions...shit, I just need to start riding first...that ride last week though, yeah, it. was. money. qwik roadie spin on Rocinante', so sweet, so tight. no queasiness along the white line, over shoulder traffic checks, and still solid on track, no sway or veer. balanced awareness from the skis translates...


meh, whatever, fuck it,
here's a bit of poem:

The alphabet of
the trees

is fading in the
song of leaves

the crossing
bars of thin

letters that spelled
winter

and the cold
have been illuminated

with
pointed green

by the rain and sun-

-William Carlos Williams,
from "The Botticellian Trees"

wow, just, wow.

Pillow Line from Kari Medig on Vimeo.

peaked

doing it old school, early Saturday AM, hit the damn snooze, 3hrs just not enough. This extra hour of roll slap snooze, yeah, it'll make a difference, sure. Coffee, pop tarts and out the door predawn southbound commuting, put on the thinking cap cruise control and enjoy the sunrise thru CR-V window at 73mph.


In thru Davis, 9:30ish and the bank shows 15 degrees in the Faranheight. Oh. Yeah. Look at all the sparkles! Icebox change of kit, second breakfast and to the lodge, bit later than usual. Parking down in a lower lot, haven't done that yet this year...grab the Jaks, grab the skins, strap a helmet to the pack and hike up the hill, solo, try to quiet the mind. Try to shut down the thinking end of things and just. ski. Make good time to Bald (why am I hammering up this climb?), around the shoulder, checking exposures, feeling the snow, plan A, B, or C?

A, Laneville & back? South facing, not ready yet according to the wrap around, corn still growing, maturing..
Plan B, just hit it on the face. Check.
Plan C, that's just a place holder.

Rip the skins, drop it down, steep hardpack edging, carving, find a clean running seam, find that soft ripple of snow and let 'em run into the apron, into the meadow. Like Sue said, skiing on Wedding Cake....cruise into Upper Springer and find 4-5 inches of creamy hoared up pow over that silky smooth wedding cake base. Bliss. Pure. fucking. bliss. Skiing like a selfish rockstar, nobody else to worry about, just me, the snow, the sun and my skis...turning 'em where I want, how I want. What dreams are made of, ski on instinct.


Down into Springer Shelter, carving the icing, dip a hip and let it flow over, if you find that honey hole of protected deep love. Want. more. Snack, slap on skins, get to breaking trail, follow the fenceline direct for a rinse and repeat lap 2. 50minutes later, second lap done, slope is schralped, body is antsy with a curious brain. Trees? hellz yeah. Back to Bald, around behind the Grovey Shelter, look over the edge....hmmmm, I know it's soft, plenty soft, and deep. This could be it, this could be the beginning of the end, feel the air getting warm, gotta get it now. Pull on the helmut, the goggles, breath a few times and push off into that momentary nothingness.

Silence, wind past the ears, accelerating into a soft caressing whummppffffff....bathtub into a hipcheck, trees come qwik. Pop out the hole and point 'em down the hill. Ski the steeps, like trees don't exist..it wasn't turn turn crash, scope line, turn turn scope, crash, flounder. No, this was: Don't be such a fucking pussy, fucking turn 'em now, turn like you know how and thread the needle, fall line bambi porpoise, loading/unloading the ski and snap it around and down and feel the flow. About 8 minutes, about 1000ft later, laying beatific in the snow, bathing in sun, stripped of everything but the experience.

I. want. more.
Lots more.

Go big, or go home. Skin track is in, use it. Back to the top again, off the rock and bomb out the remaining open landing spot into Baldy Steeps. Another 8ish minutes later and I can't get up, I can't breath, all I wanna do is holler and howl at daylight camoflaged moon, this is the shit! Get back on it and up again for a return lap to the lodge, to Roundtop via the Steeps, one. more. time! Drop in again and bear to the right, to Boundary and a high speed groomer schuss, carry the mo onto the RoundtopFlat, finding mach looney love down the cut up cruddy main slope, skiing so fast, so clean, feeling the carved out G's. A hoppy keg snack or two out in the sun, and just can't resist, out for a hot lap, back to Bald, can't stop, won't stop, don't stop on down into Cathedral, finish with a qwik skin back over to mainslope and punch out, 4:20ish in the PM....mmmmm chili.


mmmmm, 'shine', mmmmm, sweet tea vodka, food, beers...mmmmm, leather boots, headlamps, mmmmm nighttime XC ski. Sketchyness thrills in hazed LED halo before finally calling it a day. Warm IceBox movies and pizza set the stage for overnight coma action. Wake with the sun, ease into the day, easily cycling of the snooze button. Hiking again, 10ish in the morn, bright sun bluebird. Feels like the day to seek out some rumored terrain, maybe ski something I've only ever looked at, the fabled BladeRunner. Warm up with a short Tour around Bald proper, warmup w/ a lap down thru the Breakfast Bowl. The gladed GS turn comes easy, comfortable with the speed pretty qwik. Ahhh, this loving hero snow, small airs off logs and stumps, like kid in a candy store. Work the mental map, where am I? A bit of traversing, bit of side stepping and ohh, there it is, the crux entrance...what is that? 8-10-12' drop to get into it? hmmmm.


step back, look at it, step back, look at it, step back, step up, breath, breath, breath, breathbreathbreath and jack the heart rate, get the system fired up. Step back, push and let it roll off the edge.....ahh, that quiet accelerating whhoofshh.....poomph, stomped on the feet and run it out. WHOOOO HOOOOOO! back it up for a evidentiary pic, then punch right and thru the rabbit hole into steep gladed dreamscape. turn. turn. turn....woooosh.

That's it, that's the peak right there. So soak it all in, might be a long time coming before the next go round. Finish it out with a couple more laps up to Bald to really empty the legs, enjoy a festive couple hours of apres' at the WhiteGrass beach party, and unfortunately, slummingly head home again.

Damn, that was sweet.

pome

"The Politicians"

Running around here & there
stirring up trouble and bothering people
a bunch of lushes--
fern leaves and cloud:
the world was so chilly and dark--

Before long that sort
will up and rot all by themselves
and be washed away by the rain
and afterwards, only green fern.

And when humanity is laid out like coal
somewhere some earnest geologist
will note them in his notebook.


-Gary Snyder