The "Free Wheelin'" Tour WEEK ONE

Snow, Bugs, Snakes and Gapers.

While spending our first week on the road trying to avoid all these pesky little things, we were led to some purely awesome places in Northern California.  We allotted ourselves just over a week to get from the Lake Tahoe area to Quincy, California, where we currently find ourselves gearing up to head into the High Sierra Music Festival early Thursday morning.

After I finished the race I met back up with Kali and her Mom, who was visiting from Ohio.  Thankful for a shower and a bed to recover in, I spent the night in a hotel with them on the North side of Lake Tahoe.  The next day we moved into Mama and found a nice spot to park her on top of Brockway Summit, overlooking Lake Tahoe.  From here we had access to some of the best trails and road biking I'm aware of.  We spent the day doing just that.  Kali running trails and me road biking, trying desperately to stretch my legs and get loose from the punishing previous day.

Because most of the forest service access roads were still gated, due to snow, we found it hard to escape the onslaught of people gaping at the wonderful big blue lake.  Yes, people, it is beautiful, but you still have to follow the rules of the road and look both ways before crossing the street.  Jesus.  Anyway, we decided to hike into the woods to get away from the crowds.

real estate with a lake view

We hopped on the Tahoe Rim Trail heading north from Brockway summit.  We were only able to get five or six miles in before losing the trail to snow.  No worries, however.  We picked out a beautiful spot overlooking Lake Tahoe and spent a nice peaceful evening with it all to ourselves.  Lovely.  We returned to our car and the crowds in the morning and decided to head for lower grounds so we could go on longer hikes without the snow.

After stopping in one of my old homes of Truckee, California and passing by another (Rainbow Lodge), we headed towards Nevada City.  After spending the night on a forest service road, we headed into town the next day, did our errands, ran in the colorful Empire Mine State Park in Grass Valley, then made our way down the South Yuba River Canyon.

sweet view of a bend in the South Yuba River from the trail

The next day we set out on the Upper South Yuba trail that left from the campground.  I was just not feeling it on this run.  It wasn't working for me.  We were only planning on a short out and back totaling seven scenic miles.  I decided to just keep walking out as to not abandon Kali in mountain lion country.  After she made the turn around and found me I tried to keep up with her until we got to the viewpoint the above picture was taken at.  We paused here to take some pictures and suck in the awesome sights.  I turned around to see what the sound I heard was and saw the biggest, most bad-ass snake I have ever seen.  Anyone who knows me, knows my relationship with snakes (I can hardly write about it).  I took off running and screaming the most deathly high-pitched scream you have ever heard.  After that I had no trouble running and ran the fastest lightest three miles I have done in months.  Ehhhhhh.  

After that incident I wanted to flee, so we scrapped our plans of backpacking down into the canyon on the same trail the next day and left the next morning.  After a few more errands we started heading north on 49, a new route for both of us.  We found a sweet little secluded pull-off among the many gapered-out campgrounds along the North Yuba River.  One problem...mosquitos.  Not kidding, they were unbearable.  Despite the heat and the beautiful spot, we had to confine ourselves to the van with the windows up for the evening.  They were eating us alive.  We quickly left there the next morning, heading back for higher ground, deciding we'd trade the snow back for the bugs. 

As it was the weekend, we couldn't escape Gape-City, so we made the best of it, picnicking among them, before finally finding a coveted free campground, where the crowds were already gone for the week.  It was nice and high (6,600ft) and on a lake.  The bugs were bad, but much more manageable.  We planned a trail run for next day and went to bed early after a nice swim in the lake.

the Sierra Buttes

We rode our bikes a couple miles to the start of our planned lollipop loop.  The photocopied map we got from a visitors bureau didn't have the distances but we were planning on a ten-ish mile day.  We quickly hit snow, but were able to keep on the trail.  We met up with the Pacific Crest Trail, just as we got high enough to see the greatness of the area we were in.  High alpine lakes, giant redwood trees and Sierra Buttes were our entertainment for the day...that and me taking crazy falls on the snow (my shoes just don't seem to work on snow).

 pure niceness...Upper Salmon Lake

It took us quite a long time to go a few miles through the snow.  After much poking around, we were able to follow it all the way around and hook up with the Deer Lake Trail to complete the loop.  That trail was clear of snow and runnable.  We skiied down the stick of our lollipop and made it back to our bikes and was back at our campsite a few up-hill miles later, quite happy with the stunning landscape we were lucky enough to be in all day.

After another lovely evening at the same campground, we headed into Quincy, giving ourselves two days to check-off a list of errands, before the madness of our festival run begins early Thursday morning.  As I finish this post, we have somehow managed to do everything in one day, leaving us all day tomorrow to find some adventure in the hills surrounding Quincy.  WOO HOO!

The "Free Wheelin'" Tour Commences

First Stop:  Kicking My Own Ass

After leaving the Stanford Camp and spring behind on Friday, my mindset quickly moved from the live/work drama and the busyness of moving to preparing for the race I was registered for on Sunday.  I spent two nights in the van in Tahoe City before showing up to start line of the Burton Creek Trail Marathon early Sunday morning.  The race was part of the Big Blue Adventure Race Series that takes place in various places around Lake Tahoe throughout the summer.

The race started and finished at the Tahoe City's Highlands Community Center, home to the cross-country ski area and an awesome system of mountain biking trails.  Two laps on a 13.1 mile loop through Burton Creek State Park was the course for the marathon.  The loop consisted of a combination of gently rolling double-track and singletrack with 900 feet of elevation gain each loop.

I arrived shortly before the 9:00am start after sleeping in my van nearby in National Forest.  After some brief stretching and hula hooping to warm up the race began.  I felt great from the beginning.  I started out slow as could reminding myself that most of the others were running the shorter races...not the marathon.  Settling into a good good pace, I realized that course was as flat as the description suggested.  While some might be stoked about this, it is not to my advantage.  I believe I could compete better on steep technical climbs and especially descents.  Technical is definitely not how I would describe this course.  It was smooth as could be.

As is turns out all that early spring road running down Fallen Leaf Lake Road paid off.  I really had to motivate to get out on the road, especially in the snowy, cold weather, but I was thankful for it during the race.  It was all running.  And I felt great.

Nearing the end of the first loop I counted three people in front of me, one woman.  I grabbed a sandwich I had stashed at the turn-around and downed it while walking up the the slight hill to start the second lap.  I could not believe how good I felt as I started to run again.  Slowly, my muscles began to feel a little tired, but I think I kept a pretty steady pace.  I didn't carry a watch or know any milage along the way except for the 13.1 mile turnaround.  I tried to focus on my form and enjoy the beauty of the course.  The trial meandered through forest and open meadows full of blooming wild flowers.  The weather was perfect; not too hot and a slight breeze.

After the turn around I didn't see any other runners on the course until about five miles from the finish.  On the only steep climb of the course I caught sight of a guy about a quarter mile ahead of me.  I passed him soon after and cruised the slight downhill of the rest of the course.  I finished in 4 hours and 7 minutes putting me 6th overall, 2nd woman.  Quite happy with myself, I inhaled a burger and chicken sausage and a couple of beverages.

Mud Season Distractions

Fallen Leaf Lake in front of Lake Tahoe

The time known as spring in most places in the Northern Hemisphere, is not so affectionately referred to as "mud season" in the mountains.  It is the messy in-between time, when the snow is too spotty to play on, but is still covering the trails.  Muddy trails will gradually be exposed, depending on the elevation, but the ones in the highest country (where I want to be most) will unlikely see the light of day until July.  Aside from heading down to lower elevations, there is surely still fun to be had if one is willing to brave the cold, wet weather, post-hole through snow and/or play on the pavement.  My need to be in the higher elevations allows me to tolerate and even embrace this time of year, but I realized a few years ago bumming around in my car makes it difficult to utilize this swing season.  I decided a warm place to live, a hot shower and even a job (since the weather is crappy most of the time) would allow me to take mud season for all its worth.  Alas, I have found all these things, and then some, at the Stanford Sierra Camp.

Mt. Tallac towering over Fallen Leaf Lake

The Stanford Sierra Camp and Conference Center is located ten miles outside of the city of South Lake Tahoe, California, five miles from the southern shore of the impressive Lake Tahoe.  It is perfectly tucked under the southeast towers of Mount Tallac and on the southwest shores of Fallen Leaf Lake at the end of a five-mile, single-lane road, which dead-ends at the camp.  Granite boulders, huge trees and gushing creeks dominate the landscape.  Perfection, if you ask me.  

 

View from camp

The Stanford-owned facility functions as a resort in the summer and a conference center in the spring and fall.  A separate staff works the conference season and the summer season.   Most of the single season jobs are as an "all purpose" staffer.  A typical schedule will include 2-5 different shifts a day.  Jobs include housekeeping, washing dishes,  working in the dining room,  cleaning, shoveling snow,  leading hikes, set-up and break down of events and doing maintenance projects.  The are 40-50 employees.   Most live on-site.  Room and board are part of the deal.  Employees also have access to everything the place has to offer, which is about everything.  They have a shitload of watercraft, a basketball court, tennis courts, sand volleyball, a beach, books, games and any equipment you could need.  And that is just the stuff to do on-site.  The mountain-tops that run straight up from the back of my cabin offer endless entertainment.  

View from my front porch

True to the its elevation, the High Sierras disappointed most this spring.  It consistently snowed every week into June.  But true to it's California reputation, it was sunny and beautiful in-between.  As planned, I was able to take full advantage despite the rather foul weather.  I started the season by exploring the area on several different snowshoe outings.  As the snow became spottier and I was constantly falling through I spent most of the time road running and road biking.  Towards the end of May I was able to get on some east-facing and low-lying trails.   And through June I was primarily running on trails and road biking.  My cross-training consisted of large doses of hula-hooping and short runs in the Vibram Five Fingers.

After one of a dozen spring storms

As I suspected, structure provided by a work schedule, a home and a hot shower make for the most advantageous situation for me this time of year.  I am pleased with the training I got in during my stint here.  I feel like I'm prepared for the trail marathon I'm doing a couple days after finishing work.  The work itself was average (but necessary and now allows me to not work for a few months).  After not working for five months before this, it started out actually being fun, but then turned to the regular grind after a few weeks.  Then a few weeks later...it is over.  I love seasonal work.  Impermanent, just like everything else.  The perfect distraction for surviving mud season.

Planning Ahead

Surrender, yet prepare. Ask, yet expect.

I've done it. I've purchased both festival passes and registered for the race. This, more than a month before any of the events. It is a bit scary for me. A month is a long time. What if something better comes along? What if I change my mind? What if? What if? What if.....? In a universe of uncertainty how does one commit to non-refundable tickets this far in advance. Luckily, I've already got a grasp on uncertainty. Uncertainty is certain. Easy enough. Now, I am pondering planning ahead. While it first seemed that this is opposite of "going with the flow", upon further consideration, I have concluded these seemingly opposites are not mutually exclusive and a healthy balance would be the most advantageous route.

Planning ahead requires intention, choosing and commitment. Inherently, a certain outcome is desired. Desire lends itself to attachment or expectation. Lots of horrifying words to me.

Going with the flow, on the other hand, involves lack of expectation and non-attachment to outcome. The expression implies passivity, maybe even waiting or reacting.

Practicing an active form of non-attachment would be ideal. The idea is to direct the flow, but not impede, pollute, or get washed away in it. And most definitely not to argue it. Planning is necessary to get anything accomplished or desire met (preparing or asking). But the trick is to execute the plan without any attachment to the outcome (surrender). If the plan does not work out, then it is certain that the wrong choice was made in the first place. If it works out, then its reaffirmed. It is hardly decisive. The commitment is only to the actions of initiation and planning. "Putting it out there". That's all.

Expecting is a the tricky and awesome part. This is where the attracting or manifesting, if you will, comes into play. But, it is still coupled with surrender and non-attachement to outcome. Expecting can direct the flow, but surrendering acknoweledges that the current of the universe will act in your best interest and push you along if you are blinded by the muck of attachment and desire.

While I've traditionally been a card-carrinying member of the "go with the flow" club, recently this planning ahead-business is creeping on me. I guess, it is because I am developing ideas of things I think I may want to experience or accomplish. Things that involve more foresight and planning than just having the intention in my head. But same rules still apply. Be conscious, honest, and accepting, Plan to go with the flow. The seemingly opposites are only seemingly so.

Coming Home.

Home is where my heart…and all my crap is.  Whether it is a pack-full or a giant van-full of crap, it and my location, designate any given space as my home.  These “given spaces” have changed quite frequently over the last six years with time spans varying from one night to one and a half years.  While I thrive on this impermanence, its nice and necessary, every now and then, to have a place to fully unpack at.  Although I was not hired until about three weeks before moving in, the journey to my latest semi-permanent home started two months ago.  Of course it has been unfolding forever, but I’m talking about this current leg of the "trip".  

After returning to Chicago from Guatemala, I had no solid plans.  I had applied for the job I currently have, but was waiting to hear back,  Three weeks of catching up with friends and taking care of the boring minutia (i.e. taxes, banking, dentist, etc...)  was long enough in the Chicago area, so I decided to hang in Denver while waiting to hear about the job.  Having given Billy (my old Blazer) up for adoption, I was now carless and determined to get by without one.  I arranged to rent a car to move all my stuff out to my Aunt Ginny’s house in Denver, and then go from there.  

This plan changed, however, one evening when I received a call from my Uncle Mike,  offering to give me his family’s old van!  I was elated.  I knew it would be perfect for my intentions.  And I had had a dream about the van!  I picked it up a few days later, tricked it out and headed out.

2000 Dodge Ram Van

217,000 miles when I received her

I call her Mama, short for The Mothership

Mama likes to take it slow...real slow, which isn't generally a problem for me. After a one-night, very pleasant layover in Des Moines with my friend, Nickie, I made it to Denver, where I spent about a month.

In Denver I had a healthy balance of doing a lot and doing a lot of nothing.  I fasted for a couple of days, ran on the road, ate lots of good food, celebrated St. Patrick’s Day,  helped a raw milk lady at a farmers market,   biked on the super-nice paved biked trails of Denver, hung out cousins, traded a chart reading for yard work, had Mama’s rear end reconstructed, got to know some distant relatives, ran on some trails, celebrated my birthday, visited a cabin in the hills, read about parasites and pollutants, had a really fun Easter, ate lots of gluten-free baked goodness, met up with an old friend, induced a dog to vomit, watched that basketball game everyone was excited about, painted some baseboards, and had hours of fascinating conversation with Ginny.  The weather was consistently beautiful for a couple of days at a time, then 1-2 days of dumping snow, then back to beautiful.

During this time I found out I did get the job.  I had anticipated starting the journey westward a few weeks earlier, but got held up trying to get Mama’s rear end fixed. 

As usual, the timing worked out better than I could have anticipated.  According to the forecasts I would have a nice window between storms to get to where I was going.  After a run on the trails near Red Rocks, I headed up to my old home of Leadville and spent one night with my dear friend, Wizard. 

view of Mt. Elbert from Wizard's front yard

The next day I had a nice slow drive over Tennessee Pass to I-70, through the magnificent Glenwood Canyon and into the stunning desert.  I arrived in Moab just as the sun was setting,   The town was hopping, this Friday evening, with all the mountain bikers that had zoomed pasted Mama and I on I-70.  From the center of town, I followed Kane Creek Boulevard out about five miles to where it meets the Colorado River.  I found a very specific parking lot in which I would spend my first night in Mama.  

home for the evening

Mama is very comfortable and very spacious.  I slept great.  Good thing I did, because the next morning, in that very parking lot, was the start and finish line of a trail race!  I ran the 8.64 miler in the 1st Annual Amasa 10k and 8.64 mile races.  

This was the coolest course I have run a race on.  The loop was incredibly beautiful, super-technical and tons of fun.  I whoo-hooed quite a few times while running.  The course was one mile on a dirt road, a couple on a gnarly jeep track, and then the rest on the famous Moab slickrock singletrack.  Stunning views of red rock, the Colorado River and the majestic La Sal mountains kept tempting my eyes to veer from the trail. 

Finish line of race

After the race I stopped in town to collect my third place prize (a scoop of ice cream from a local ice creamery), enjoyed it, and headed out.  I took the new-for-me, scenic, Route 6 to I-15 before meeting up with I-80 in Salt Lake City.  Westward!  I don’t mess around much in Utah.  It was slow, easy driving but I was beat from the race.  Half-way through Nevada, I called it quits for the night.  I pulled into a rest area and slept very well for ten hours.  

Sweet camera skills while driving.  View from Route 6 heading north,  south of Provo, Utah

I got going early Sunday and made it to Reno by late morning.  After a few errands, I was climbing up into the Sierra.  I am always very excited when get up in the forest-covered mountains away from the dry desert.  While I appreciate the desert’s colorful beauty and its stark contrast to the green and white mountains, I feel like I’m home in the high hills.  Also, it was exactly two years, to the day, that I left the North Tahoe area, after calling it home for a year and a half.  A few errands in Truckee, and I was heading up Donner Summit, home for the evening. I was a bit anxious to get there as it was starting to snow and I was not eager to test Mama’s snow-dealing capabilities. I got to my friend Carolyn’s just as the snow was starting to stick to the ground.

My first reunion with Donner Summit lasted two nights.  It was lovely to get to visit some old friends and super-lovely that there was 7”-10” of fresh snow for my first and only day snowboarding of the season!  What a splendid day.  The conditions were right up there with the handful of best days I had in the two seasons I spent at Sugar Bowl.  My first two runs were untracked perfection.  Absolutely grand.  And extremely tiring.  My back leg was mush after a couple of hours.  I spent the rest of the day recovering in Carolyn’s comfy little abode in the woods.

I woke up the next day ready for my next dose of crazy.  Although it was a bluebird day after dumping for two days…it was time for me to move into the new home.  The heavenly drive around the west side of Lake Tahoe did not pass without incident.  I managed to get Mama stuck in some snow and mud on the side of the road when I pulled over to take a phone call.  Dumbass.  Luckily, my usually cheap self, realized that roadside assistance is well worth the $12 a year.  I was quickly yanked out and on my way, not far from the turn-off for my destination.  As I drove down the five-mile, windy, single-lane road, I was assured, as expected, that this was going to be another one of the special places, my crap and I, would  be lucky enough to call home for a while.  

Where are you from?

What may seem like a straightforward question to some, has made me hesitate dozens of times in the last 24 hours.  How do I answer that?  Sure, I'm originally from the Chicago area, but I haven't lived there in over six years.  Whitefish, Montana is the last address I had, but I moved out of there over seven months ago.  Since then the place I've slept the most is in the back of my Blazer, that traversed the west coast over a four-month span.  Then there was a month and half in Guatemala, three weeks in Chicago, and then a month in Denver.  I think that might be too much information for those who are just trying to make small talk with me and the other forty-some odd people I am suddenly living among.
  So, now I find myself in a place where I will most likely spend the next two months.  When I leave here and arrive at the next destination, can I say I'm from the Stanford Sierra Camp and Conference Center on Fallen Leaf Lake, outside of South Lake Tahoe, California?
  That is where I am now.  I arrived early yesterday afternoon to my spectacular new home and place of employment.  I thrive on living in beautiful places and I am fairly certain this place will deliver.  This compound is located on the south side of a good-sized lake serving as the foreground view of the Sierra Crest with the Desolation Wilderness in the backyard.  The north side of Fallen Leaf Lake is just miles from the south shores of Lake Tahoe.  A five-mile, single-lane road is the only way in and out of this little piece of paradise.
  Being the first day of orientation it is hard to gage how the overall work and living situation will be, but in a short two-month span, I can't imagine much that could detract from the awesomeness of the place.  I live in a very cute, very cozy, decent-sized cabin.  The food is good and plenty and is stuff I'll eat.  Outdoor activities are limitless.  And there are potentially many new friends.
  Today I had to write down my "hometown" so that it could be printed on my name tag.  Under pressure, I wrote down Bartlett, Illinois.  I guess, that will work.  After all, that is where the story starts.  And when someone who asks really wants to know, I'll give them the whole story...from Bartlett, Illinois to Stanford Sierra Camp and Conference Center on Fallen Leaf Lake outside of South Lake Tahoe, California.

Do'in It

Finally.  I am making it happen.  A blog.  I set this account up over two years ago and have never got it going.  The thought to share my experiences usually occurs to me when I am facing down time; the same time that I usually feel like I have nothing to share.  But, now it seems perfect.  I'm settled for what for me is semi-permanent...a whole two months, but am also confident there will be much to talk about.  Another day, another crazy situation.