The First Day of Summer

While I don't remember all of the ways I spent my summers when I was a kid, I can definitely remember the way summer felt - the anticipation leading up to the last day of school; the long days playing in the woods behind our house; big slices of watermelon on the back porch; week-long trips to visit my grandparents' farm.

As adults, we generally don't get to revel in summer the way we used to. It would be easy to get lost in nostalgia and feel like something has been lost. But for me, it still kind of has that exciting feel to it, and I want to do everything I can to make the summer live up to the expectations set by my childhood.

True, there isn't as much time to spend playing when most of the days are spent earning a living. But most of us still have mornings, evenings, and weekends to live to their fullest. We still have vacation time accrued to compress into a week what used to take a month to do.

The Solstice - the official start of summer - was late last night, which makes this the first full day of summer. The kids have been out of school for about a month, now, but the last field trip for my mountaineering class is tomorrow (it's my last day of school!), which will free up some time to pick and choose how I'm going to spend my off day each week. And the other weekend days when I'm taking care of the kids are full of promise, too.

As far as I can see, this summer is going to be all about climbing, hiking, slacklining, biking, skateboarding, and teaching my kids what I can about all of those things. What are you doing this summer?

Korea and Japan: a late Yule present

Back during the winter holidays, I didn't get any gifts for anyone. And I mean that literally. Nobody got anything from me. At all.

Part of it was that I didn't make the time to do any shopping. And part of it was that C made sure that the people who matter most got gifts from our family. But mostly I think it was because everyone I would have bought gifts for doesn't need anything. On the contrary, most people I know complain that they want to simplify their lives rather than accumulate more stuff.

But I didn't want to be a Scrooge, so I told my family that my gift to them would be an all-expenses-paid adventure to the destination of their choosing.

I spent the next several hours arguing that Disney Land did not count as an adventure.

This heated debate subsided into the kind of subsurface boiling that lava might do after a violent volcanic eruption. A few days later C turned to me with narrowed eyes and said, "I want to go to Japan." I'd been called to account, and now I'd have to put my money where my mouth is. "Sounds fun," I replied.

Of course we couldn't actually get away until after the school year was up, so we planned the trip for the first two weeks of June. Which means that at the time of writing, I've had just enough time to recover from jet lag.

The trip actually entailed a week in South Korea - visiting my sister, who is stationed there right now - followed by a week in Kyoto. It was probably the best vacation we've had.

We flew out of Denver on a Thursday, caught a connecting flight in Seattle and landed in Seoul on Friday evening. The time zones are such that you lose a day in transit. My brother-in-law picked us up from the airport and took us to their home in Pyeongtaek. Travel is exhausting, and I don't sleep well on planes. So we had just enough time to settle in and hang out for a bit before going to bed at a pretty normal local time. We all got up the next morning feeling more or less adjusted to the new time, which was a pleasant surprise.

The next few days were spent going all over the place, seeing museums, visiting temples, going to amusement parks, walking through markets, and playing at a water park on the US Army post where they work.

One particularly nice coincidence was that their neighborhood, comprised largely of Americans working for the military, held a barbecue one evening while we were there. We enjoyed a sense of community that I haven't felt in a long time. There's a unique bonding that takes place when you're all strangers in a strange land, or so to speak, that doesn't happen much here in suburban US of A.

C and M at a street market, Osan, South Korea

Korean War Memorial, Seoul, South Korea

Korean War Memorial, Seoul, South Korea. A trove for AFV enthusiasts.

Tofu vendor at a street market, Pyeongtaek, South Korea

Traditional dancers and musicians, Korean Folk Village

Buddhist temple, Kwang Duk Sa, South Korea

Kwang Duk Sa, South Korea

T-Express roller coaster, Everland, South Korea

Our week in Korea flew by for me. Before I knew it, we were being shuttled back to Seoul to catch a flight to Osaka. From there we traded in our pre-paid vouchers (acquired from a stateside travel agent) for rail passes and took a JR train to Kyoto. The train station is essentially part of the airport, so it was much less stress than I thought it would be. Still, I'm glad that we insisted on fitting everything into a single suitcase plus backpacks. Shepherding two kids through public transportation is challenging enough without a lot of extra baggage.

Even though we didn't manage to do much more than one destination per day, Kyoto was a whirlwind of palaces, temples, museums, and trains. It was a great choice for first-timers in Japan, as there is so much history there, and the city is quite manageable in size. I think Tokyo probably would have been a bit overwhelming.

Nijo-jo (a shogun's palace), Kyoto, Japan

Tea house, Imperial gardens, Kyoto, Japan

M and some monkeys, Iwatayama Monkey Park near Kyoto, Japan

A train station somewhere north of Kyoto, Japan

Trees at a Buddhist temple (Yasaka?), Kyoto, Japan

Kiyomizu-dera, Kyoto, Japan

Kiyomizu-dera, Kyoto, Japan

Waterfront, Toba, Japan. We were on an island, so the kids wanted to see some water.

A Katsuya Terada work at the International Manga Museum, Kyoto Japan

Imperial Palace, Kyoto, Japan

It was a great experience being a visitor to such very foreign countries. I mean, everything from the landscapes and architecture to the languages and alphabets were completely new to us. It's really humbling to immerse oneself so thoroughly in the unknown.

The flight home was from Osaka to San Francisco, and from there back to Denver. It all went smoothly enough, but while we once again arrived in the evening and should have gotten a good, on-schedule night's sleep, I was slower to adapt back to Mountain Time. Hopefully tonight I won't wake up again at 03:00 wondering whether I'll be able to coax myself back to sleep for a couple of hours.

There will be more about this trip to come. There was simply too much to encompass in a single blog post.

SPL T-shirts

Sometimes when we go to the climbing gym, F gets pieces of scrap paper from the counter and draws little pictures of me while I'm climbing. I love those "climbing cards", as she calls them, but if you've got kids you know it's not always easy to know what to do with all the keepsakes that accumulate. After a while, an awesome idea struck me.

Behold, the very first Self-Powered Life t-shirts!

F in her new shirt

Me in mine

I kept the project secret so I could surprise F once the shirts actually arrived. Whatever it cost to get them made (it wasn't that much, really), I was more than repaid when I presented the shirt to her. She thought it was the coolest thing in the world. I'm really proud of mine, too.

These aren't available for purchase, though I guess you could email me of you really want one. I just had these two made, since demand would never be able to keep up with supply if I ordered them in bulk.

Imagining other people going around in SPL t-shirts is kinda novel, but what I would really love is for you, dear reader, to find something that uniquely celebrates your own self-powered pursuits, put that on a shirt (or whatever), and send me a picture. I promise, it will make you smile way more than having somebody else's logo on your chest.

Riding in the Rain

In Colorado, as in many places, it's the rainy season right now. For some people avoiding being caught exposed to the elements means that the bike has to stay at home while they drive to work. For my part, I'd rather take a chance with an afternoon shower than miss a perfectly good bike-commuting day. And honestly, riding in the rain is kinda fun.

But there are a few small things you can keep handy to improve your experience. My backpack always has the following in it.

• A light rain shell
• Rain pants
• Trash bag
• Quart-sized zip-lock bags

The rain shell came with a stuff sack, so it packs down pretty small. The pants and trash bag get rolled up and bound with a rubber band to keep them tidy and out of the way. If it's raining when it's time to hit the road, I wrap my laptop inside the trash bag. Phone and wallet go into a zip-lock. Anything else that can be damaged by water should be sealed up as well.

Or you could spend a bunch of money on a solidly weatherproof backpack. In some parts of the country that kind of investment makes a lot of sense. But it just doesn't rain that often here.

What to do with the wearables should be obvious enough. I like to put my helmet on over my hood, since it tends to get blown back if I do it the other way around. If you're worried about your feet getting wet, you can either get waterproof shoe covers, or you could put plastic bags over your socks and allow your shoes to get soaked while your feet stay relatively dry (except for some extra sweat).

Another thing to take into consideration when riding in the rain is safety. Puddles can hide road hazards and can sometimes be deeper than they look, so avoid them when possible. And use caution when a fording is necessary.

Lightning is a serious risk, especially if you have to ride through open terrain. So try to choose a route that minimizes the time spent being the tallest thing around, and haul ass through any unavoidable fields. You're not going to outrun lightning, but you can limit the time spent exposed to greater risk of a strike.

Finally, rain inhibits visibility, so make sure you're equipped with appropriate lighting and reflectors if you're going to be riding in traffic.

If you're always prepared for a little stormy weather, you can bike your commute without worrying about gambling with the forecast. The weather is going to happen; just roll with it!

Bunnies to Blacks in one season

As I've mentioned previously, my major goal for the winter was to learn how to ski. It seemed silly that I've lived in Colorado for as long as I have without taking my place in the Sunday afternoon traffic jams on I-70. I felt left out. And it was also a logical next step in my mountaineering aspirations.

While there have been plenty of Spring powder days lately, the season for me is over. My weekends for the next month or so are spoken for by field trips with a class I'm taking with the Colorado Mountain Club, and the teasingly warm days we've had are drawing my mind to other pursuits. So now I'm reflecting on how things went, and whether my goals were met.

All said, I'm pretty happy with my progress this year, though there are a few things I didn't get to that I would have liked. So this post is about how I approached my first year of skiing. I think some of it probably applies to many new endeavors.

Riding up chair 4, Loveland Basin

0) Humble yourself. Everyone is terrible at first. Don't let pride prevent you from even getting started. Give yourself permission to suck. But don't worry. Falling isn't really all that bad.

1) Put yourself on the hook. For me, this mostly turned out to be in the form of a financial commitment. I bought all of my gear instead of renting, which obligated me to make the investment worthwhile. Telling people what you're doing can also help add a little pressure not to give up.

2) Start early. Skiing is obviously dependent on the weather, so there's a limit to how early in the year you can start. For me, this meant the Sunday after Thanksgiving. The snow wasn't what you'd call good - it was all machine-made, hard-packed corduroy - but it was enough, and I wanted to be off of the bunny slopes by the time the season was in full swing.

3) Start with lessons. Preferably from a professional instructor. You might have friends that are really good, but being good at something is not always the same as being good at teaching it. The first three times I went skiing, I took at least a half-day lesson. Make sure you take time either before or after the lesson to work on your own and just have some fun.

4) Go often. Most of the time I was only able to go once per week. And since that one day was my only day for doing things on my own, I had to give up some of my other favorite winter activities (e.g. snowshoeing). But I was up there every chance I got.

Hanging out at Ptarmigan Roost cabin, Loveland, during Spring Break

5) Go with friends. They say the best way to improve is to ski with somebody better than you. The couple of times I was able to go with other experienced skiers, I learned quite a bit. Jim taught me how to ski trees and moguls, and now that's some of the stuff I enjoy the most.

Me skiing with Jim at Winter Park

6) Learn with friends. I spent a lot of time skiing by myself, but I also talked my whole family into learning with me this year. It's fun to be able to spread around your beginner's enthusiasm. And sometimes, like Presidents' Day and Spring Break, this allowed me to increase the frequency of my ski days.

C at Loveland Valley

7) Ignore ratings. I know: the title of this post is all about difficulty ratings. We outdoors people seem to be obsessed with rating systems. And they can be useful for risk-assessment, tracking progress, and motivation. But I'm working on a universal scale that I can apply to pretty much any activity. It goes something like

1. Boring
2. Fun
3. Fun But Scary. Or maybe interpret it as "fun, but I expect to fail."
4. Too Scary to try yet

This is a scale that grows with us as we progress in our pursuits. And if you want to get better at something, try to stay in the FBS range. Eventually you'll gain enough skill and confidence that things in the TS category start looking like FBS.

Looking down Over the Rainbow at Loveland Basin

8) Explore new places. This year, Loveland was kind of my home turf, or so to speak. But I learned a lot on the occasions I was able to ski other mountains. And not all mountains rate their runs the same way.

Maybe it was because I was seeing all of Loveland's black runs while I was still just beginning, and that first Too Scary impression stuck with with me longer than it should have. But in my experience, the black runs at Copper Mountain were much gentler than the blacks at Loveland. So going to other places might allow you to break through the mental block and smooth out the transition from one level to the next.

9) Never fail to have fun. That's not to say that it isn't hard sometimes. But if I wanted to do something that feels like work, there's plenty of that waiting for me at home and the office. Fun is what motivates me to get out and learn something new.

Loveland Basin from the top of chair 1

S is for Spring

S is for...

Seeds (and some transplanted seedlings) that I planted yesterday in my community plot at the office. Chard, Brussels sprouts, and cauliflower. Yum!

An pre-sunrise spinning workout on my trainer in the basement - there is an end in sight. I'm so looking forward to riding outdoors again.

Shaving the winter beard, but leaving a sweet trucker 'stache. F says I should keep it indefinitely. My wife thanked me for giving her such a good laugh first thing in the morning.

Slacklining in the front yard after work. (I still suck, but I have fun!)

A special family supper, with sweets for dessert. Sauteed greens, asparagus, roast, and sweet potatoes. And of course, the bunny cake with skittles for the eye and nose.

Vegan roast & sweet potatoes

Chocolate bunny cake

Skiing tomorrow. Seriously, it's a work-sanctioned event - I'm not playing hookie. The imminent end of ski season makes the arrival of spring somewhat bitter-sweet. But there are plenty of other things to do. I can't wait!

Happy Spring, everybody!

Fatties vs. Studs

It's not often that I embrace controversy in my SPL posts, but today I'm writing about a fairly contentious topic: Fatties and Studs. That's right, the question is whether it's better to have a wide, chunky girth, or more svelte and angular.

For bicycle tires, I mean. For winter commuting.

For the past couple of years - excluding last year, which was so devoid of snow that I never had to change out of my 28mm Gator Skins - I've been using 35mm studded tires on my touring bike for my winter commuting. But this year I've done a lot more riding on my mountain bike with its fat 26x2" tires. It's got me thinking about whether it's worth it to invest in those expensive snow tires, or if it's better, assuming you have one in the stable already, to just use a mountain bike.

Skinnies, studs, and fatties.

The studded tires are designed to give superior traction on ice, of course. And for that they perform admirably. And in my experience, the narrower tire cuts into deep snow better.

I haven't really gotten a feel for what the fatties do on black ice. And in fresh snow of 5 inches or so, they get mired and bogged down, forcing me to walk the bike to a plowed/shoveled surface to remount.

But what happens on the rutted, frozen footprints from school-kids, crusty ice kind of conditions I mostly see on the multi-use paths on my commute? My snow tires often failed to ride up the edges of those ruts, instead either rerouting me wherever the previous path user was headed, or sending me into an emergency foot-dip to avoid a topple. The mountain bike tires, on the other hand, gain a better purchase on the sides of the ice and allow me to go up and over the ruts without too much trouble.

Another annoyance, which I was not industrious enough to solve definitively was that the fenders on my touring bike were installed with normal-sized tires in mind. So the wider 35mm studded tires often scrubbed the inside of the front fender, making an awful racket. In wet conditions, I guess that's better than having no fenders at all, like on my mountain bike. On the other hand, the mtb has disk brakes, which work decidedly better in those same wet conditions.

So in conclusion... I don't really have a conclusion for you. I think that both kinds of tires have a place for winter commuting. But unless next year is snowier than this one, I'll leave the skinny tires on my touring bike and use the fatties on snow days.