For those of you who are athletic outdoors types, check out my good friends at Brazen Racing: http://brazenracing.com/diablo.html
This weekend's excitement is the Diablo Trails Challenge, a Brazen event and benefit for Save Mount Diablo, one of my favorite causes. If you fancy yourself a mud runner, this weekend will be right up your alley. There's an unbelievably difficult 50K, a half, and a 10K / 5K.
I'll be the 5K turnaround, a position I hold close to my heart as I watch Gina, Sabbath and hundreds of running friends pass by. The cruise to the turnaround location might be excruciatingly difficult by itself - I was there last Sunday, a week after any rain had fallen, and there was plenty of mud, as well as a half dozen creek crossings...and it's to rain all week before this run.
And I'm SO looking forward to it! So much support from all, as well as the thrill I get from seeing so many people, some of whom have never run a mile, as they grit teeth and bear down to finish what will be a grueling event no matter the chosen distance.
It'll be wet. It'll be muddy. And it'll be the most fun you can have without breaking any laws. Pine Canyon is gorgeous now, and Stage Road will offer challenges for the shorter distances. The Diablo Regional Trail will carry the 50K route, including the hellish 4.5 mile hill from Round Valley to Morgan Territory. It took me 4 days to roll this trail 2 years ago...these runners will be mere hours from end to end, no matter the conditions.
So think of me slogging through the mud to hang out with you on a wet, soggy trail Saturday, March 19th at Castle Rock Regional Park. Check out the link, sign up if you can and please say "hi" as you run past me or turnaround to head home for the 5K. Hang around to greet the 50K runners as they finish. Most of all, welcome to a real life, real time experience, one you won't get sitting around watching basketball in the morning.
Runners, to your marks - sign up, I'll see you there. My best to all participants. Maybe if I start tomorrow I can finish with the 50K folks....;-) See you there!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The Kid In The Candy Store
The next two weeks are the 4wheelbob equivelent of a major holiday. We all celebrate The Season in different ways, though. For some, it's sitting on the couch and watching college basketball or pre - season baseball. Others will start getting the garden ready, planting, trimming; maybe you'll clean the house, or the garage....
Not me. After all, it's The Holidays.
Sunday marks the start of Daylight Savings Time, perhaps the most useful creation ever to spring from Congress. The following weekend, or shortly thereafter to be precise, Spring will, well, it'll spring. Wildflowers and animals will be everywhere. As the mountains warm, the snow will melt, filling reservoirs and clearing the way for some high altitude 4wheelbob cruises. And every night, thanks to that extra hour of daylight as well as the lengthening days, will be an opportunity to cruise my beloved trails.
I'm already getting a big time itch for those long, late days. The middle of June will come all too soon, and the longest day of the year will pass as if on a surly wind if we don't take up the call to arms. Get off the couch. Grab the dog, kids, husband or wife and go outside. Leave the car (and save the gas!) and take a walk.
Sunday...Daylight Savings Day...I'll be out as early as I can get up, and will be out somewhere until the darkness returns. So many trails, so little time. Maybe I'll finally do the Coyote Creek Trail from Morgan Hill to Sunnyvale or Milpitas and back. Maybe the Iron Horse Regional Trail, a long standing favorite. Maybe Mt. Diablo's North Peak, a summit I enjoy like few others.
The point is - it doesn't matter. I could tell you about the things you're likely to see but that would ruin your fun. Think renewal, freshness, wonder and amazement. Nature will be just getting warmed up. Watching the transition from winter's stark beauty to spring's restoration and celebration of life will have you in awe if you have a soul. It's free, too....why go anywhere else?
The first day of spring follows a week later, and will almost be anticlimactic. We'll have had a week of late daylight, and the wildflowers will bust out between now and May or June. Our green hills will call us out, to look closely at the tiny flowers that begin the color show at ground level. Mom Nature will put together color shows, the likes of which cannot be duplicated by fashion designers or any other pretentious human endeavors.
And again, I'll be on a trail, rain or shine. The Diblo Trail Challenge run will be March 19 at Castle Rock Regional Park, a perfect way to welcome spring whether it warms or it's gray and damp. You'll see me out there Saturday as well as Sunday while I sit and listen to the springtime jazz concert coming from the birds of the season. Find me, get in touch if you've never experienced this, and I'll take you there. Because everywhere will hold zillions of wonders, beckoning us to enjoy.
Tis the holiday season, after all. It's ours, all of ours to take in. I'm back in the gym getting ready for some really epic early season hikes and climbs. Some won't last as long as others, but the universal reaction will be that of the kid in the candy store - so many good things to take in, to see, to hear, to smell.....and just enough time to be filled with the experiences. Join me. Come out, come along. Get your Spring self on - this is a season unmatched over the coursing of the calendar! See you out there!
Not me. After all, it's The Holidays.
Sunday marks the start of Daylight Savings Time, perhaps the most useful creation ever to spring from Congress. The following weekend, or shortly thereafter to be precise, Spring will, well, it'll spring. Wildflowers and animals will be everywhere. As the mountains warm, the snow will melt, filling reservoirs and clearing the way for some high altitude 4wheelbob cruises. And every night, thanks to that extra hour of daylight as well as the lengthening days, will be an opportunity to cruise my beloved trails.
I'm already getting a big time itch for those long, late days. The middle of June will come all too soon, and the longest day of the year will pass as if on a surly wind if we don't take up the call to arms. Get off the couch. Grab the dog, kids, husband or wife and go outside. Leave the car (and save the gas!) and take a walk.
Sunday...Daylight Savings Day...I'll be out as early as I can get up, and will be out somewhere until the darkness returns. So many trails, so little time. Maybe I'll finally do the Coyote Creek Trail from Morgan Hill to Sunnyvale or Milpitas and back. Maybe the Iron Horse Regional Trail, a long standing favorite. Maybe Mt. Diablo's North Peak, a summit I enjoy like few others.
The point is - it doesn't matter. I could tell you about the things you're likely to see but that would ruin your fun. Think renewal, freshness, wonder and amazement. Nature will be just getting warmed up. Watching the transition from winter's stark beauty to spring's restoration and celebration of life will have you in awe if you have a soul. It's free, too....why go anywhere else?
The first day of spring follows a week later, and will almost be anticlimactic. We'll have had a week of late daylight, and the wildflowers will bust out between now and May or June. Our green hills will call us out, to look closely at the tiny flowers that begin the color show at ground level. Mom Nature will put together color shows, the likes of which cannot be duplicated by fashion designers or any other pretentious human endeavors.
And again, I'll be on a trail, rain or shine. The Diblo Trail Challenge run will be March 19 at Castle Rock Regional Park, a perfect way to welcome spring whether it warms or it's gray and damp. You'll see me out there Saturday as well as Sunday while I sit and listen to the springtime jazz concert coming from the birds of the season. Find me, get in touch if you've never experienced this, and I'll take you there. Because everywhere will hold zillions of wonders, beckoning us to enjoy.
Tis the holiday season, after all. It's ours, all of ours to take in. I'm back in the gym getting ready for some really epic early season hikes and climbs. Some won't last as long as others, but the universal reaction will be that of the kid in the candy store - so many good things to take in, to see, to hear, to smell.....and just enough time to be filled with the experiences. Join me. Come out, come along. Get your Spring self on - this is a season unmatched over the coursing of the calendar! See you out there!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
True Confessions
This is going to be short, as I am not proud when I make a commitment to do something that I NEED desperately to do, then get sidetracked and hogtied.
This was to be the Week of the Return to the Gym...an epic in 5 parts. I alluded to it in my last post. I felt great every night this week, ready to get back to the extreme workout regimen.
Except - it didn't happen. Instead, events conspired to get me home later than anticipated; illness in the home kept me watchful and available; and now I feel redemption is necessary. Redemption may come in the form of trying to put in several miles during my lunchtime, even on the ugly streets of Silicon Valley. It may mean 30 minutes in the gym at work, if the workload abates and I can find 30 minutes. It may come as a quick "see you Monday" at Noon tomorrow, after which time I'll head to the friendly homelike confines of Sunol Regional Wilderness. To get away for an afternoon, finish a couple of projects and spend enough time in the gym to convince my fragile ego that no, I'm STILL a viable entity. That would be a gas!
There is no crueler tantalization than a gaze out the window on an Almost Spring afternoon, and realizing there is no way in hell to enjoy it. But the call I hear, the one that yearns, in my best William Wallace shout, to cty "FREEEEEDOOOOOOM..." at the top of my lungs out in the parking lot, while high tailing it to a trail.....that's the voice I hear. The working world may simply be too structured for me as I age; my job could ultimately turn out to be that of the sage, watching life in its zillion forms provide the inspirations and motivations so many seek. So let me finish with this - rather than being found keeled over at my desk by an indifferent co - worker, how much more rewarding to meet Mother Nature in Her home, on Her terms, and at Her mercy. Food for thought. Have a perfect weekend, let's meet somewhere and listen to the bluebirds...
This was to be the Week of the Return to the Gym...an epic in 5 parts. I alluded to it in my last post. I felt great every night this week, ready to get back to the extreme workout regimen.
Except - it didn't happen. Instead, events conspired to get me home later than anticipated; illness in the home kept me watchful and available; and now I feel redemption is necessary. Redemption may come in the form of trying to put in several miles during my lunchtime, even on the ugly streets of Silicon Valley. It may mean 30 minutes in the gym at work, if the workload abates and I can find 30 minutes. It may come as a quick "see you Monday" at Noon tomorrow, after which time I'll head to the friendly homelike confines of Sunol Regional Wilderness. To get away for an afternoon, finish a couple of projects and spend enough time in the gym to convince my fragile ego that no, I'm STILL a viable entity. That would be a gas!
There is no crueler tantalization than a gaze out the window on an Almost Spring afternoon, and realizing there is no way in hell to enjoy it. But the call I hear, the one that yearns, in my best William Wallace shout, to cty "FREEEEEDOOOOOOM..." at the top of my lungs out in the parking lot, while high tailing it to a trail.....that's the voice I hear. The working world may simply be too structured for me as I age; my job could ultimately turn out to be that of the sage, watching life in its zillion forms provide the inspirations and motivations so many seek. So let me finish with this - rather than being found keeled over at my desk by an indifferent co - worker, how much more rewarding to meet Mother Nature in Her home, on Her terms, and at Her mercy. Food for thought. Have a perfect weekend, let's meet somewhere and listen to the bluebirds...
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
No Snow? So What? It's almost Spring!
I've got a serious, horrible case of cabin fever. In order to keep the illness from spreading, I left Saturday morning to see how the spring wildflowers were coming along. Although only a hardy few species had begun blooming, the greening of the East Bay Regional Parks is moving relentlessly over hill and dale (what the hell is a "dale"? Anyone?).....and the unshorn locks of native clump grasses are asserting themselves over everything. Here's the forecast, again - it's going to be an awesome year for wildflowers.
But my attention was quickly diverted as I crossed the bridge over Alameda Creek in Sunol Regional Wilderness - the ever present red shouldered hawks started it. Then, as if tuning up for a symphonic statement, bird after bird after bird chimed in - from hawks to woodpeckers, kinglets to flickers; something was in the cold air this weekend, and I wasn't going to miss out on it for a second.
After being invited to attend St. Mary's College's clinching of the WCC title (I had a seat just behind the west basket), I went home a happy camper Saturday night, feeling as if the game were an omen and pleased in the knowledge that tomorrow would be spectacular.
Sunday didn't let me down. It was cloudless and clear enough to pick out the snowy mountaintops 200 miles away along the Sierra Crest. After a breakfast at the old Byron Inn, we drove across the street and around the back side of the Byron Airport. Red Tail Hawks, Egrets, beautiful, nesting - colored Western Bluebirds, even a Sharp Shinned Hawk, rare in that we were in grassland, not forest where they are usually found. We drove home smiling at the bounty of beauty, and after a short while at home I decided to try out a brand new section of trail that would connect me all the way from the house to Sycamore Grove Park.
The trail was a creation of the City of Livermore, whom I thank for providing the means to enable me to leave the car parked while I wheeled the 4 and a half miles to the park. Along the way were songbirds, mockingbirds, birds of prey, wild turkeys with small turklets - very curious they were, so much so that mom & dad turkey had to herd them away from me as I approached them. A kite flew over, circling, circling until something caught its eye and it went into hover mode - the quick, silent flapping that lets it lie stealthily in the air over whatever it is about to kill. It hovered for several minutes, then flew off, circling higher, effortlessly catching the breeze and gaining altitude...
The new trail was nice. I felt good, but it had been a long time since I'd taken to our civic trails. The rolling of the trail over short, paved hills did nothing but give my winter - dormant psyche a lift. I coasted through Holdener Park, then down the hill toward Sycamore Grove, passing thousands of acres of our fabled Livermore Valley grapevines while maintaining a controllable speed. Small songbirds danced alongside puddles that lined the road. They seemed to be cheering me as I passed, and I reveled in the attention.
Sycamore Grove was beautiful, just weeks before Spring springs forth. I chatted for a minute with Ranger Amy, a member of the wonderful ranger / interpretive staff at The Grove. She offered some fresh highlights of the park, and I took note to get back soon. But I felt a little ragged, even after such a short cruise. I knew I had a lot of "up" to deal with on the trail home, so Ol' Paint and I saddled and "up" we went.
The long haul back up the trail wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated. Sometimes, a trail seems easier if you talk yourself into thinking it'll be much harder than it is. I cruised up toward Arroyo Road, keeping pace with my idle thoughts; soon I had climbed enough to cross the road and enter the trail to Holdener Park again....it was on this stretch that the trek became grueling...
No, it wasn't because I was fatigued, even though somewhat out of shape. The trail was delightful; the problem was much worse - the splendor of this marvelously sunny day had allowed a longstanding block in my brain to soften. That block had held in forebearance thoughts of a song I'd hoped never to hear again, one that causes me to cringe in fear when driving, forcing me to pull over and look for one of my live Grateful Dead CD's. Here it was, though, making an unwelcome return from the 70's:
That song was none other than "Knock Three Times" by Tony Orlando and Dawn. And I was humming it! The song matched my cadence perfectly. I tried slowing, then speeding up just to throw it off and send it back to Big Hair Purgatory. Nothing worked, until, as if sent by a divine, forgiving force, a Northern Harrier flew just a few feet over my head, looking for a crow to harass. It was so close to me that I could see its beautiful eyes searching for its next lunch. As the bird flew over a rise., I heard the squak of alarm from 3 crows, flying at this moment much faster than crows should fly, with harrier in pursuit. Had I been in Vegas, I'd have known where to put my money.
The song eked its way out of my head as the breeze cooled and with it, my arms. I sped up to try to keep warm as the sun was an hour from setting, by my awkward calculation. I flew up and down, up and down over rolling trail until I reached the Marina Road section. It was now flat, and I was 2.5 miles from home. That was good.
Cruising at a modest pace, modest because by now I had realized how low my endurance level had become during a sedentary week or two, I noted the same kite I'd passed on the way out was still hunting. Kites are a favorite, hunting constantly, appearing to drift and float with the wind once in a while so we'll know they're cool. I watched as she settled over a soon - to - be unfortunate gopher or mole...eventually, the inevitable dive happened, and she flew home with her take out meal. Watching a kite hunt is a celebration of efficiency.
By now, I'd reached Concannon Drive. I was cooling rapidly as well as tiring. Caught up to Mocho Creek, around the school, across South Livermore Ave. and on the home stretch. The last 300 yards were the fastest - although I had a jacket in my pack, I decided to get home as fast as I could to get out of the breeze. Dusk had arrived, the sun was down and I was pleased to be inside. Had I been camping, I'd have cuddled in my warm down bag inside a nice, tautly erected tent and settled off to sleep.
The lesson of the weekend was simple. I need to get in shape again. That starts tomorrow night, as I'll be off to the gym. Summer and mountains will be sending me postcards soon, and I want to be ready. So here's to a weekend of flowers, birds and all the beautiful living things, people included, whose paths crossed mine. My best to all, and I'll be out there to do it again just as soon as I can. Join me, OK? We'll meet again in a few days, just you and me.
But my attention was quickly diverted as I crossed the bridge over Alameda Creek in Sunol Regional Wilderness - the ever present red shouldered hawks started it. Then, as if tuning up for a symphonic statement, bird after bird after bird chimed in - from hawks to woodpeckers, kinglets to flickers; something was in the cold air this weekend, and I wasn't going to miss out on it for a second.
After being invited to attend St. Mary's College's clinching of the WCC title (I had a seat just behind the west basket), I went home a happy camper Saturday night, feeling as if the game were an omen and pleased in the knowledge that tomorrow would be spectacular.
Sunday didn't let me down. It was cloudless and clear enough to pick out the snowy mountaintops 200 miles away along the Sierra Crest. After a breakfast at the old Byron Inn, we drove across the street and around the back side of the Byron Airport. Red Tail Hawks, Egrets, beautiful, nesting - colored Western Bluebirds, even a Sharp Shinned Hawk, rare in that we were in grassland, not forest where they are usually found. We drove home smiling at the bounty of beauty, and after a short while at home I decided to try out a brand new section of trail that would connect me all the way from the house to Sycamore Grove Park.
The trail was a creation of the City of Livermore, whom I thank for providing the means to enable me to leave the car parked while I wheeled the 4 and a half miles to the park. Along the way were songbirds, mockingbirds, birds of prey, wild turkeys with small turklets - very curious they were, so much so that mom & dad turkey had to herd them away from me as I approached them. A kite flew over, circling, circling until something caught its eye and it went into hover mode - the quick, silent flapping that lets it lie stealthily in the air over whatever it is about to kill. It hovered for several minutes, then flew off, circling higher, effortlessly catching the breeze and gaining altitude...
The new trail was nice. I felt good, but it had been a long time since I'd taken to our civic trails. The rolling of the trail over short, paved hills did nothing but give my winter - dormant psyche a lift. I coasted through Holdener Park, then down the hill toward Sycamore Grove, passing thousands of acres of our fabled Livermore Valley grapevines while maintaining a controllable speed. Small songbirds danced alongside puddles that lined the road. They seemed to be cheering me as I passed, and I reveled in the attention.
Sycamore Grove was beautiful, just weeks before Spring springs forth. I chatted for a minute with Ranger Amy, a member of the wonderful ranger / interpretive staff at The Grove. She offered some fresh highlights of the park, and I took note to get back soon. But I felt a little ragged, even after such a short cruise. I knew I had a lot of "up" to deal with on the trail home, so Ol' Paint and I saddled and "up" we went.
The long haul back up the trail wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated. Sometimes, a trail seems easier if you talk yourself into thinking it'll be much harder than it is. I cruised up toward Arroyo Road, keeping pace with my idle thoughts; soon I had climbed enough to cross the road and enter the trail to Holdener Park again....it was on this stretch that the trek became grueling...
No, it wasn't because I was fatigued, even though somewhat out of shape. The trail was delightful; the problem was much worse - the splendor of this marvelously sunny day had allowed a longstanding block in my brain to soften. That block had held in forebearance thoughts of a song I'd hoped never to hear again, one that causes me to cringe in fear when driving, forcing me to pull over and look for one of my live Grateful Dead CD's. Here it was, though, making an unwelcome return from the 70's:
That song was none other than "Knock Three Times" by Tony Orlando and Dawn. And I was humming it! The song matched my cadence perfectly. I tried slowing, then speeding up just to throw it off and send it back to Big Hair Purgatory. Nothing worked, until, as if sent by a divine, forgiving force, a Northern Harrier flew just a few feet over my head, looking for a crow to harass. It was so close to me that I could see its beautiful eyes searching for its next lunch. As the bird flew over a rise., I heard the squak of alarm from 3 crows, flying at this moment much faster than crows should fly, with harrier in pursuit. Had I been in Vegas, I'd have known where to put my money.
The song eked its way out of my head as the breeze cooled and with it, my arms. I sped up to try to keep warm as the sun was an hour from setting, by my awkward calculation. I flew up and down, up and down over rolling trail until I reached the Marina Road section. It was now flat, and I was 2.5 miles from home. That was good.
Cruising at a modest pace, modest because by now I had realized how low my endurance level had become during a sedentary week or two, I noted the same kite I'd passed on the way out was still hunting. Kites are a favorite, hunting constantly, appearing to drift and float with the wind once in a while so we'll know they're cool. I watched as she settled over a soon - to - be unfortunate gopher or mole...eventually, the inevitable dive happened, and she flew home with her take out meal. Watching a kite hunt is a celebration of efficiency.
By now, I'd reached Concannon Drive. I was cooling rapidly as well as tiring. Caught up to Mocho Creek, around the school, across South Livermore Ave. and on the home stretch. The last 300 yards were the fastest - although I had a jacket in my pack, I decided to get home as fast as I could to get out of the breeze. Dusk had arrived, the sun was down and I was pleased to be inside. Had I been camping, I'd have cuddled in my warm down bag inside a nice, tautly erected tent and settled off to sleep.
The lesson of the weekend was simple. I need to get in shape again. That starts tomorrow night, as I'll be off to the gym. Summer and mountains will be sending me postcards soon, and I want to be ready. So here's to a weekend of flowers, birds and all the beautiful living things, people included, whose paths crossed mine. My best to all, and I'll be out there to do it again just as soon as I can. Join me, OK? We'll meet again in a few days, just you and me.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Beating The Annual Gas Price Frenzy!
Each year, it seems, I have to post something about gas prices, and how American consumers can lower them at the pump. Each year, I have the same answer.
It's not about Libya. It's not about unrest in the Arab world. It's not about anything political at all, no matter what the New York Times says.
It's about economics. It's about you and your driving habits. It's about American consumers setting the marketplace to their advantage. Really. It's this easy......
This is the time of year excuses spew from the PR machines of the oil companies. The Middle East unrest made it easy for 2011, and it's as good as they've been able to come up with in a while. It's not the usual "refineries close for maintenence" or "deliveries from Alaska are stalled by pipeline repairs". We now have Libya to blame for $4.00 / gallon gas. But the fix it is close as our car keys...
Here's how we do it, America. I want your undivided attention.
Stop driving so damn much. There. I said it. Believe it or not, the U.S.A. is almost oversupplied at this very point in time. As I drove CA Hwy 33 a couple of weeks ago, I found the Kern County oil fields blazing away with production - it appeared that 80 - 90% of the pumps were cranked up, well above the norm. Easy to wind them up when per barrel prices were above $92, much better now that Mideast "tensions" have moved the marketplace over $100.
But get on the floor in your lotus position and visualize something with me.
Close your eyes. Imagine planning a daily trip route each morning over that first cup of coffee. How often do you need to go out? Can you combine trips by parking at one shopping center or mall and picking up several things? Or can you walk to your kid's school with them, eliminating one short drive and perhaps getting to know your kids a little better?
Can you look at how many times you use the car each day and for how many miles, and cross at least one trip off - every day? If all drivers did that every day, we'd be at a critical oversupply in less than a month - really. It IS that simple. We've done it before, mostly in a reactive mode because we couldn't afford to use gas at the rates lower prices encourage.
Now is our chance to make a proactive statement. Stop making unplanned trips. Walk downtown once in awhile. Ride your bike. Walk the dogs to the local dog park instead of driving them. Then watch gas prices at the pump. Any contrived scarcity issues will have abated. Overstock will take its place - then it becomes as simple as supply and demand, just like high school economics taught us. Don't drive as much, the marketplace will react within weeks. Prices will drop, and it won't matter if the Mad Hatter or Santa Claus becomes the leader of Libya. If nobody's buying oil, the price will drop until we decide it's fair again.
But make no mistake - the oil companies will, believe it or not, report record profits in the first quarter. With your support, though, by the end of the third quarter their profits will be merely obscene rather than unconscionable. It's in our hands now. Park the pick up or SUV and drive the smaller car to work, or take public transportation (ACE train to the South Bay from Livermore is a special ride, by the way). Walk instead of driving when you can. All I ask is that you forego ONE TRIP a day. That's all it will take. All the phony "experts" in business or government won't convince me otherwise.
Take charge now! To quote Peter Finch in "Network": we should be "as mad as hell, and we're not going to take it anymore." Walk, ride, lose one trip a day....and you watch - prices will drop as we drive fewer miles. It's in our hands. Make it happen. Do your part to reduce oil industry bonuses! One less trip. And please - let me know what you're doing and how it's working for you! See you on the trail - NOT driving!
It's not about Libya. It's not about unrest in the Arab world. It's not about anything political at all, no matter what the New York Times says.
It's about economics. It's about you and your driving habits. It's about American consumers setting the marketplace to their advantage. Really. It's this easy......
This is the time of year excuses spew from the PR machines of the oil companies. The Middle East unrest made it easy for 2011, and it's as good as they've been able to come up with in a while. It's not the usual "refineries close for maintenence" or "deliveries from Alaska are stalled by pipeline repairs". We now have Libya to blame for $4.00 / gallon gas. But the fix it is close as our car keys...
Here's how we do it, America. I want your undivided attention.
Stop driving so damn much. There. I said it. Believe it or not, the U.S.A. is almost oversupplied at this very point in time. As I drove CA Hwy 33 a couple of weeks ago, I found the Kern County oil fields blazing away with production - it appeared that 80 - 90% of the pumps were cranked up, well above the norm. Easy to wind them up when per barrel prices were above $92, much better now that Mideast "tensions" have moved the marketplace over $100.
But get on the floor in your lotus position and visualize something with me.
Close your eyes. Imagine planning a daily trip route each morning over that first cup of coffee. How often do you need to go out? Can you combine trips by parking at one shopping center or mall and picking up several things? Or can you walk to your kid's school with them, eliminating one short drive and perhaps getting to know your kids a little better?
Can you look at how many times you use the car each day and for how many miles, and cross at least one trip off - every day? If all drivers did that every day, we'd be at a critical oversupply in less than a month - really. It IS that simple. We've done it before, mostly in a reactive mode because we couldn't afford to use gas at the rates lower prices encourage.
Now is our chance to make a proactive statement. Stop making unplanned trips. Walk downtown once in awhile. Ride your bike. Walk the dogs to the local dog park instead of driving them. Then watch gas prices at the pump. Any contrived scarcity issues will have abated. Overstock will take its place - then it becomes as simple as supply and demand, just like high school economics taught us. Don't drive as much, the marketplace will react within weeks. Prices will drop, and it won't matter if the Mad Hatter or Santa Claus becomes the leader of Libya. If nobody's buying oil, the price will drop until we decide it's fair again.
But make no mistake - the oil companies will, believe it or not, report record profits in the first quarter. With your support, though, by the end of the third quarter their profits will be merely obscene rather than unconscionable. It's in our hands now. Park the pick up or SUV and drive the smaller car to work, or take public transportation (ACE train to the South Bay from Livermore is a special ride, by the way). Walk instead of driving when you can. All I ask is that you forego ONE TRIP a day. That's all it will take. All the phony "experts" in business or government won't convince me otherwise.
Take charge now! To quote Peter Finch in "Network": we should be "as mad as hell, and we're not going to take it anymore." Walk, ride, lose one trip a day....and you watch - prices will drop as we drive fewer miles. It's in our hands. Make it happen. Do your part to reduce oil industry bonuses! One less trip. And please - let me know what you're doing and how it's working for you! See you on the trail - NOT driving!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Scouting Mission - Carrizo Plain Nat'l Monument
The drive down Interstate 5 is always a long, boring drag. Fast food and speeding traffic are the norm, but yesterday I made my first overnight foray of 2011 to a Central CA favorite of mine, the Carrizo Plain National Monument.
As far as monuments go, Carrizo is a little utilized, barely known three quarters of a million acre paradise. The main attraction each year, besides free campgrounds, is the early spring wildflower bloom. Although it's too early to tell yet how the bloom will be or when the peak will happen, I took a sunny weekend before a week full of rain to check on the potential for this season, and to see some of the other features of the monument.
Taking the Highway 58 exit which most people use to get to Bakersfield, I turned west instead, putting me on track to travel through such small stalwarts as Buttonwillow and McKittrick. Neither would be mistaken for a burgeoning suburb, and although they are just a few miles apart each is grounded in a completely different economy - Buttonwillow is an agricultural crossroads, while McKittrick is in the middle of Kern County's vast oil fields. For the sightseer, getting through them without stopping is the right thing to do.
Hwy 58 would eventually lead to Santa Margarita on the Central Coast, near Morro Bay and San Luis Obispo. But I wasn't going that far. This was a solo overnight campout on a perfect, warm winter day. I was going to gauge the pending wildflower bloom, to find out if Carrizo had gotten the early rainfall the rest of California got hammered with in late fall. 58 was empty, as usual. Not many cars or trucks travel this desolute route, which traverses western Kern County and its oil fields into the fertile farm and ranch land of eastern San Luis Obispo County. Parts of the monument are in Kern, the rest in SLO. One thing is unmistakeable - this is a monument with a zillion natural features, even when it's not yet wildflower season.
One of the most obvious as 58 ambles down toward the Plain, is the San Andreas Fault. The fault runs on the east side of the monument, at the base of the Temblor Range, a rugged series of wrinkles and push ups rising to over 4,000 feet. The animals and birds are what attract me, along with the wildflowers. You might run across a herd of pronghorn, or a small band of Tule Elk. Kangaroo rats will inevitably invade your campside as soon as the sun goes down, especially at the southernmost canpground, known simply as KCL. I've seen or caught an endangered snake, the San Joaquin Coachwhip, in the hills. Mega - sized jackrabbits might convince some that jackalopes live, and live at Carrizo. Small voles and mice abound.
My attraction to this place is all of the afore stated; the two campgrounds, Selby to the north and KCL farther south, each sport wheelchair accessible outhouses and nicely put together campsites. I've been comfortable here in warm sun and driving rain. And if you're not here during wildflower season, it's likely you won't have much company. I like that part in winter.
I chose to camp at KCL toward the southern acreage, because I knew there would be great horned owls and I needed an owl fix. The birds at sunrise are very noisy, so if you wish to camp at KCL be a bird lover. It annoys many. I found the perfect campsite, with just one drawback - the tent would be beneath one of the large eucalyptus trees, which are bird hotels. Knowing this, and that I'd have to wash the tent fly when I got home, I began to set up the tent anyway. I placed it with the entrance facing the south east, to get a wake up call from the rising sun right in my face. Didn't want to sleep too late, although it would be a relaxing night.
The setup was perfect. Not only did I have a clear view of the sunrise ready made in the morning, I found that as the half moon set a thousand galaxies became visible; I had camped in a postcard - view site, able to look out over a half million acres of green beauty, and all the stars in Heaven staring right back at me.
I wasn't very hungry and decided after the long drive to head to the tent and look up from inside. Laying flat on my back felt great; before I know it I had drifted off to dreamland, awakened only by the respectfully soft "whooo - who who" of at least three resident owls. I woke at midnight, already having slept 5 hours. Took a short roll outside to listen for critters and saw in my headlamp another of my favorite residents, a kangaroo rat. I had to race him to the tent because I'd left the tent fly unzipped and he was making a b - line for it. They are such cool creatures! I herded him away from the tent and listened as he made his way into the thick, fresh stalks of young fiddlenecks, a ubiquitous early bloomer at Carrizo.
All night long I heard mice and other small rodents in the plants outside. At the same time the owls hooted, every so often getting an answer from a compadre in another tree. It was delightful to hear, happening just as I'd hoped it would, and caused a great sense of relaxation. I awoke this morning at 7:30 AM - I guess I needed it, and a 4wheelbob "thank you" to the Great Horned owls of Carrizo Plain.
I set off early this morning to come home, packing up quickly at 8:30. My camp is an easy set up, easy take down - nothing very difficult except finding the energy to say "time to go home." And for the first time in all my visits, I was going to exit the Plain at the south end, toward the sunny burg of Maricopa and the quiet, old empty Highway 33.
The south side of the monument was considerably greener than the grass of the north portion. Fiddlenecks and buttercups were beginning to show, and it looked as if this might be another banner year for wildflowers. The large number of marked BLM sites included Padrone Canyon and Traver Ranch, both begging for further exploration. The folds of the hills, hidden canyons a walk away, endless dirt roads to who - knows - where...all are among the features that call me back at least twice each year. I missed the pronghorns this time, but I'm sure they knew where I was. I'll be back in another month to six weeks to watch the bloom explode all over the monument. I expect it'll be a very good year, especially if this week's rain forecast holds true. Soda Lake, a seasonal alkaline sink was very close to full at this time. The lake is yet another attraction, as are the great fields of flowers north of the lake along the feeder creeks.
For the first time visitor, here's how it goes during wildflower season. Get there on a Thursday or very early Friday to be assured of a campsite in either Selby or KCL. Selby's got more sites and more room to improvise, but KCL is more picturesque. Oh, bring water - there isn't any available at either campsite, and it's a long drive to find any. I usually pack a 7 gallon jug no matter how long I'm there, just in case. And firewood...it gets cold at night, no matter what time of year. It can get windy, or rainy, or be hotter'n...well, you know. Dress accordingly.
Carrizo Plain National Monument deserves your attention. I suggest reading about it first on the BLM website (that's federal Bureau of Land Management for you who stay home too much), and call the number of the Guy Goodwin Education Center at the Plain for best wildflower viewing information. Will you see me down there? Watch this space for updates. Planning may be no more than a week in advance. But I'll be there again at some point, chasing kangaroo rats, listening to owls and convincing newbies that if you drive across the Plain to the San Andreas Fault and start jumping, you'll register on the seismograph at Parkfield....heh heh heh....I love newbies! See you there!
As far as monuments go, Carrizo is a little utilized, barely known three quarters of a million acre paradise. The main attraction each year, besides free campgrounds, is the early spring wildflower bloom. Although it's too early to tell yet how the bloom will be or when the peak will happen, I took a sunny weekend before a week full of rain to check on the potential for this season, and to see some of the other features of the monument.
Taking the Highway 58 exit which most people use to get to Bakersfield, I turned west instead, putting me on track to travel through such small stalwarts as Buttonwillow and McKittrick. Neither would be mistaken for a burgeoning suburb, and although they are just a few miles apart each is grounded in a completely different economy - Buttonwillow is an agricultural crossroads, while McKittrick is in the middle of Kern County's vast oil fields. For the sightseer, getting through them without stopping is the right thing to do.
Hwy 58 would eventually lead to Santa Margarita on the Central Coast, near Morro Bay and San Luis Obispo. But I wasn't going that far. This was a solo overnight campout on a perfect, warm winter day. I was going to gauge the pending wildflower bloom, to find out if Carrizo had gotten the early rainfall the rest of California got hammered with in late fall. 58 was empty, as usual. Not many cars or trucks travel this desolute route, which traverses western Kern County and its oil fields into the fertile farm and ranch land of eastern San Luis Obispo County. Parts of the monument are in Kern, the rest in SLO. One thing is unmistakeable - this is a monument with a zillion natural features, even when it's not yet wildflower season.
One of the most obvious as 58 ambles down toward the Plain, is the San Andreas Fault. The fault runs on the east side of the monument, at the base of the Temblor Range, a rugged series of wrinkles and push ups rising to over 4,000 feet. The animals and birds are what attract me, along with the wildflowers. You might run across a herd of pronghorn, or a small band of Tule Elk. Kangaroo rats will inevitably invade your campside as soon as the sun goes down, especially at the southernmost canpground, known simply as KCL. I've seen or caught an endangered snake, the San Joaquin Coachwhip, in the hills. Mega - sized jackrabbits might convince some that jackalopes live, and live at Carrizo. Small voles and mice abound.
My attraction to this place is all of the afore stated; the two campgrounds, Selby to the north and KCL farther south, each sport wheelchair accessible outhouses and nicely put together campsites. I've been comfortable here in warm sun and driving rain. And if you're not here during wildflower season, it's likely you won't have much company. I like that part in winter.
I chose to camp at KCL toward the southern acreage, because I knew there would be great horned owls and I needed an owl fix. The birds at sunrise are very noisy, so if you wish to camp at KCL be a bird lover. It annoys many. I found the perfect campsite, with just one drawback - the tent would be beneath one of the large eucalyptus trees, which are bird hotels. Knowing this, and that I'd have to wash the tent fly when I got home, I began to set up the tent anyway. I placed it with the entrance facing the south east, to get a wake up call from the rising sun right in my face. Didn't want to sleep too late, although it would be a relaxing night.
The setup was perfect. Not only did I have a clear view of the sunrise ready made in the morning, I found that as the half moon set a thousand galaxies became visible; I had camped in a postcard - view site, able to look out over a half million acres of green beauty, and all the stars in Heaven staring right back at me.
I wasn't very hungry and decided after the long drive to head to the tent and look up from inside. Laying flat on my back felt great; before I know it I had drifted off to dreamland, awakened only by the respectfully soft "whooo - who who" of at least three resident owls. I woke at midnight, already having slept 5 hours. Took a short roll outside to listen for critters and saw in my headlamp another of my favorite residents, a kangaroo rat. I had to race him to the tent because I'd left the tent fly unzipped and he was making a b - line for it. They are such cool creatures! I herded him away from the tent and listened as he made his way into the thick, fresh stalks of young fiddlenecks, a ubiquitous early bloomer at Carrizo.
All night long I heard mice and other small rodents in the plants outside. At the same time the owls hooted, every so often getting an answer from a compadre in another tree. It was delightful to hear, happening just as I'd hoped it would, and caused a great sense of relaxation. I awoke this morning at 7:30 AM - I guess I needed it, and a 4wheelbob "thank you" to the Great Horned owls of Carrizo Plain.
I set off early this morning to come home, packing up quickly at 8:30. My camp is an easy set up, easy take down - nothing very difficult except finding the energy to say "time to go home." And for the first time in all my visits, I was going to exit the Plain at the south end, toward the sunny burg of Maricopa and the quiet, old empty Highway 33.
The south side of the monument was considerably greener than the grass of the north portion. Fiddlenecks and buttercups were beginning to show, and it looked as if this might be another banner year for wildflowers. The large number of marked BLM sites included Padrone Canyon and Traver Ranch, both begging for further exploration. The folds of the hills, hidden canyons a walk away, endless dirt roads to who - knows - where...all are among the features that call me back at least twice each year. I missed the pronghorns this time, but I'm sure they knew where I was. I'll be back in another month to six weeks to watch the bloom explode all over the monument. I expect it'll be a very good year, especially if this week's rain forecast holds true. Soda Lake, a seasonal alkaline sink was very close to full at this time. The lake is yet another attraction, as are the great fields of flowers north of the lake along the feeder creeks.
For the first time visitor, here's how it goes during wildflower season. Get there on a Thursday or very early Friday to be assured of a campsite in either Selby or KCL. Selby's got more sites and more room to improvise, but KCL is more picturesque. Oh, bring water - there isn't any available at either campsite, and it's a long drive to find any. I usually pack a 7 gallon jug no matter how long I'm there, just in case. And firewood...it gets cold at night, no matter what time of year. It can get windy, or rainy, or be hotter'n...well, you know. Dress accordingly.
Carrizo Plain National Monument deserves your attention. I suggest reading about it first on the BLM website (that's federal Bureau of Land Management for you who stay home too much), and call the number of the Guy Goodwin Education Center at the Plain for best wildflower viewing information. Will you see me down there? Watch this space for updates. Planning may be no more than a week in advance. But I'll be there again at some point, chasing kangaroo rats, listening to owls and convincing newbies that if you drive across the Plain to the San Andreas Fault and start jumping, you'll register on the seismograph at Parkfield....heh heh heh....I love newbies! See you there!
Monday, February 7, 2011
February? Winter? REALLY????
Thoughts of snow, ice, cars sliding on Slurpee - covered roads and highways...that's been the past week in America, at least that's all we see day after day on the news. So for those of you experiencing such conditions, let me tell you how we in NorCal suffered over Super Bowl weekend:
It started with me getting out of the house at 9 AM Saturday. Expecting the usual low 40's of winter, I found instead a thermometer reading 68 degrees. It was 70 by 10. No clouds. No fog. Sabbath and I left a couple hours later for Saint Mary's College and a fantastic event for young people as well as old farts such as myself. After an afternoon of inspiring speakers and enthusiastic attendees, as well as Chris Major's incredible energy and leadership, we made it to McKeon Pavillion to sit on the floor as St Mary's (that's 20 - 4 SMC) put a whuppin' on Loyola Marymount. But Saturday was just a warm up.
Sunday morning came too quickly. We hemmed and hawed about where we'd go when Gina and I came up with the perfect solution - Pt. Reyes National Seashore. It would be a wonderful day (almost 80 in sunny Livermore) featuring unchecked visability - would we see the Farallons today? I was more interested in the great herds of elk that roam Pt. Reyes. We even had a trail in mind, one we'd partially finished a couple of years ago - Tomales Point Trail just above McClure's Beach.
The drive was sensationally easy, as most of the sedentary world was pre - filling up on Super snacks well before the kick off. We had no allegiances in the game so had no concerns about missing it. Arriving at the historic farm buildings at the Tomales Point Trailhead, we found it was already 2 PM. The sun was high and bright, though, and the cool (60) air cruising sedately over us from the sea to Tomales Bay created perfect conditions for a fine day on the trail, or to sit on a hillside and watch the waves.
We started off northbound on this perfect trail, rolling over soft dirt mixed with assorted rock on a level path. If a hiker stopped every few yards to look around, he or she would find a complete change of scenery with the movement along the path. It was easy to stop and take it all in on this spectacular winter day, too. The cool air tempted a good pace, and with each slight downgrade I coasted along the trail effortlessly taking it all in.
One of my favorite features of this trail is the short drop to a saddle followed by a long but fairly gentle uphill. It wasn't the grade that made this stretch a challenge as much as the ruts and narrow sections where I had to balance the chair on thin ridges of soft, sandy support. There was no danger unless I wished to take the more difficult parts. But the hill seemed unending; there was a summit point, but with each turn it moved farther away - it was a bit like watching parts of "The Shining", those parts where the hallways stretched out more and more.
This was not a hill that would have me breathing hard, either. It was just long. I stopped a lot, mostly to keep an eye out for the whales that cruise past this time of year. I had barely a few hours over our rainy winter to get some trail time in, so to say I reveled in this long roll is probably an understatement.
Gina and Sabbath had taken residence on a grassy hillside overlooking the beach and a beautiful feeder canyon where seasonal streams ran. Lest I forget this part as I froth over the wonderful day and trail, we watched a large (maybe 3 dozen) herd of elk munch fresh vittles as they grazed along unruffled by human observers. Elk were everywhere - my only outside disappointment was the lack of raptors riding the breeze. But I know I can expect them soon on the Bear Valley Trail as the ospreys nest. Gee, a reason to go back...what a tragedy!
This day was quite literally one in a thousand. Mother Nature might well have been sitting in my lap for the warmth I felt. And she's a loving Mom, too, tossing out a few early wildflowers as well as elk and deer by the dozen during the drive home. We were glad it was such a long, sedate drive from the trailhead to Highway 1. Although we all had obligations today, had this been a Saturday night we might have stayed in one of the many wonderful inns or B&B's in Olema or Pt Reyes Station. The day had been surreal, beauty at every turn and green being the Color of the Day - extending, we found on the drive home, to the football game that dominated America.
So for all of you in the Midwest and East, we're sorry we had no snow and 80 degree weather around the Bay. We apologize profusely that as we laughed in short sleeves along a coastal trail, you may not have had electricity and are huddled around the fireplace trying to keep warm. Mom Nature was riding the trail with us, and we didn't want her to be disappointed. For you, let's hope you thaw out soon, that you have ample firewood in the meantime and soon can think of a Spring that will be here shortly. And as you read news reports and headlines and wonder why we who are California natives love our state even with all its issues, look no further than a long coastal trail in a large national seashore...then wonder no more.
It started with me getting out of the house at 9 AM Saturday. Expecting the usual low 40's of winter, I found instead a thermometer reading 68 degrees. It was 70 by 10. No clouds. No fog. Sabbath and I left a couple hours later for Saint Mary's College and a fantastic event for young people as well as old farts such as myself. After an afternoon of inspiring speakers and enthusiastic attendees, as well as Chris Major's incredible energy and leadership, we made it to McKeon Pavillion to sit on the floor as St Mary's (that's 20 - 4 SMC) put a whuppin' on Loyola Marymount. But Saturday was just a warm up.
Sunday morning came too quickly. We hemmed and hawed about where we'd go when Gina and I came up with the perfect solution - Pt. Reyes National Seashore. It would be a wonderful day (almost 80 in sunny Livermore) featuring unchecked visability - would we see the Farallons today? I was more interested in the great herds of elk that roam Pt. Reyes. We even had a trail in mind, one we'd partially finished a couple of years ago - Tomales Point Trail just above McClure's Beach.
The drive was sensationally easy, as most of the sedentary world was pre - filling up on Super snacks well before the kick off. We had no allegiances in the game so had no concerns about missing it. Arriving at the historic farm buildings at the Tomales Point Trailhead, we found it was already 2 PM. The sun was high and bright, though, and the cool (60) air cruising sedately over us from the sea to Tomales Bay created perfect conditions for a fine day on the trail, or to sit on a hillside and watch the waves.
We started off northbound on this perfect trail, rolling over soft dirt mixed with assorted rock on a level path. If a hiker stopped every few yards to look around, he or she would find a complete change of scenery with the movement along the path. It was easy to stop and take it all in on this spectacular winter day, too. The cool air tempted a good pace, and with each slight downgrade I coasted along the trail effortlessly taking it all in.
One of my favorite features of this trail is the short drop to a saddle followed by a long but fairly gentle uphill. It wasn't the grade that made this stretch a challenge as much as the ruts and narrow sections where I had to balance the chair on thin ridges of soft, sandy support. There was no danger unless I wished to take the more difficult parts. But the hill seemed unending; there was a summit point, but with each turn it moved farther away - it was a bit like watching parts of "The Shining", those parts where the hallways stretched out more and more.
This was not a hill that would have me breathing hard, either. It was just long. I stopped a lot, mostly to keep an eye out for the whales that cruise past this time of year. I had barely a few hours over our rainy winter to get some trail time in, so to say I reveled in this long roll is probably an understatement.
Gina and Sabbath had taken residence on a grassy hillside overlooking the beach and a beautiful feeder canyon where seasonal streams ran. Lest I forget this part as I froth over the wonderful day and trail, we watched a large (maybe 3 dozen) herd of elk munch fresh vittles as they grazed along unruffled by human observers. Elk were everywhere - my only outside disappointment was the lack of raptors riding the breeze. But I know I can expect them soon on the Bear Valley Trail as the ospreys nest. Gee, a reason to go back...what a tragedy!
This day was quite literally one in a thousand. Mother Nature might well have been sitting in my lap for the warmth I felt. And she's a loving Mom, too, tossing out a few early wildflowers as well as elk and deer by the dozen during the drive home. We were glad it was such a long, sedate drive from the trailhead to Highway 1. Although we all had obligations today, had this been a Saturday night we might have stayed in one of the many wonderful inns or B&B's in Olema or Pt Reyes Station. The day had been surreal, beauty at every turn and green being the Color of the Day - extending, we found on the drive home, to the football game that dominated America.
So for all of you in the Midwest and East, we're sorry we had no snow and 80 degree weather around the Bay. We apologize profusely that as we laughed in short sleeves along a coastal trail, you may not have had electricity and are huddled around the fireplace trying to keep warm. Mom Nature was riding the trail with us, and we didn't want her to be disappointed. For you, let's hope you thaw out soon, that you have ample firewood in the meantime and soon can think of a Spring that will be here shortly. And as you read news reports and headlines and wonder why we who are California natives love our state even with all its issues, look no further than a long coastal trail in a large national seashore...then wonder no more.
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