The last of the snow seen in that shot is now gone. The snow didn’t make it to June as it often does according to the UVM research snow stake. Never the less it was a great season. As Garrison Keillor would say, they’re all “above average.”

Now that melted snow is flowing past my back porch in the Winooski River, and the kayakers come out after work to play in the Salmon Hole.

So, this is where I wax poetic about Spring-time rebirth and the cycle of life, right? No.

Actually, I’ve been thinking about gear. Which may sound obvious for a blogger on a gear company’s sponsored Web site, but I was thinking about gear a little differently than normal last night. While it can be fun to debate the merits of the latest piece of technical wonderment, or how to budget for the next über -toy, last night I was thinking about the lasting effects some of my best gear has had on me.

Yes, good gear, like a good tool, enables a skilled user to achieve better results. But what if I’m not a skilled user? What if I actually don’t measure up to the high standards that a great piece of gear was designed to? Can the implied expectations of our gear drive us to be better? Maybe….

I’m a consumer product designer by trade, and have spent years engineering the best products I can for my customers. It makes me really happy to see my designs out in the hands of a good user. So when I get a piece of great equipment I often think back to the designer behind it and wonder what she would think of a guy like me using her design.

Do I even measure up?

And this brings me to last night, and pondering my now dead shoes and how they’ve changed me. After last night’s 10k~ish jog, their trail running days are over. Many hundreds of rocky and muddy miles have sapped their spring, worn their tread, abraded the laces, and peeled the soles. They’re the best running sneakers I’ve ever had, but what made me happy last night was they also made me the best runner I’ve ever been. I was psyched to see that I had managed to wear them out, before they wore me out. I lived up to expectations of good gear.

When I moved to Vermont a few years ago, I tried to take up running again. With an older pair of kicks that had been wasting away in my closet I went out for a 20 minute jog along the Winooski River. I could barely walk the next day I was so sore. I kept at it though, eventually developing a habit of (maybe) bi-weekly post work ~5k trail runs. It didn’t take long to shred through my old shoes even with that modest amount of use. I went down to my local gear shop and got some experienced help fitting my feet to the best pair of real trail runners for me.

Dropping a three digit MSRP on a pair of sneakers was really steep for this barely reformed “faux” runner. But the expectation was there: “OK Peter, you bought these things, don’t waste ‘em!” With my girlfriend’s help we were soon running 3-5 days/week during the warm months, and staying after it in during the cold months too. My work night 5k loops expanded to 10k’s. Our long runs on weekends moved up to 20k’s. Then we started adding elevation, doing loops like The Long Trail over Mt.Mansfield.

The fitness has paid off big time for our skiing. My improvement in the local Randonnée racing has been a direct result. It’s also paid off in the development of our new favorite summer past time -> trail running explorations to find the “perfect” swimming hole.

I’ll never be a fast runner. You won’t see me winning any races. But, I do think I’ve lived up to the challenge thrown down by my fancy sneakers. I’m looking forward to buying a new pair tomorrow, and continuing to work towards those high standards.
The next question is: can I live up to the expectations of the fancy new rock shoes and harness I just bought?

When I was a kid, I loved to play in the mud and rain. Living here in CO I get the chance to plat a lot in the crazy weather that comes through here on a regular basis.

Today was no exception.

It’s been raining here on and off most of the summer. We are not known for our rain here, so it takes a lot of getting used to. Its messed up my outside climbing, but has made for some fun mountain bike rides. As the rain came down and I suited up to ride, it looked as if it would clear by the time I was on top of the hogbacks behind my house.

Riding out the trial that leads to the climb, the trail was wet, but not anything to worry about, it was cool and the rain felt great.

Once I started up the climb, which is about a mile up, my tires started to cake up with gumbo. For those of you who don’t know the finer points of gumbo, let me enlighten you.

Gumbo is a soup; it consists of a whitish dirt, rocks, and water. When ridden through at any speed, it clings to all the parts of you bike and makes the trail slicker then snot. And that’s pretty slick.

About 300 yards into the climb, I knew that riding the hill at this particular moment wasn’t going to happen, so I did what any sane person would do, I got off and pushed. Now, on most days, this technique works fine. But it was a gumbo day and as I pushed, the wheels continued to collect the thick ooze. It got so think that my back tore began to skid because it couldn’t spin anymore.

That leaves you with one choice.

Shoulder the bike and hoof it to a solid ground spot.

Walking with a bike is one of those things that just aren’t right. I mean for all intents and purpose, we’re supposed to RIDE the bike. Not carry it.

But, there I was, and that seemed like the best choice.

After several hundred yards, I really don’t know how far, because my bike is not known for its lightness and it seemed like a lot of work to carry. The gumbo was nice and thick on my shoes. So if you can picture a one legged man, carrying his bike with moon boots on, you get the picture.

Once to the back of the hill, I could once again get on the bike, which I will tell you is much more fun then having to carry, and off I went.

Which brings me to the second fun thing about gumbo, as you pick up speed, yep, you guessed it, the mud flings off and it seems like you have a large bulls eye right on your face.

Several bone-jarring miles later I arrived back at my house where again, I did what any sane person would do.
I grabbed the camera and headed back out to do it all again and see if I could get higher on the hill this time now that a bit of time had passed and the sun was coming out.

After all, I still love to play in the mud.

Craig DeMartino is one of Cloudveil’s Inspired Mountain Ambassadors.

Four stages. Three days. One Kinetic Rock-n-Roll Road indoor trainer.

Yes, as its name implies, the “stage race” I did last week was totally and completely done indoors. Take that Tour de France riders. Who among you has the mental toughness to ride indoors? In perfectly beautiful weather? For over thirteen hours? Thirteen. Hours.

Give me Mont Ventoux any day. Please.

Now, I’ve proved — numerous times — my capacity for repetition and boredom exceeds that of a normal person (I submit my training sessions for the 24 Hours of Sunlight randonee race this past winter and the race itself as examples). Still, the Tour de Trainer took me to places I had never before gone. And hope to never again go. The 25-minute “time trial” and the 45-minute “crit” weren’t horrible, but the 75-mile road race (3:30 hours) the first day and the 105-mile road race (5:30) the last day rank amongst the longest hours of my life.

I didn’t devise the Tour de Trainer to see if I was capable of swallowing my own bile for hours on end, but because a broken collarbone has had me riding indoors since the middle of June. The first week-and-a-half weren’t horrible because 1.) Since I couldn’t weight the arm attached to the broken collarbone, the “workouts” were generally short and 2.) I discovered the first (and second) season(s) of The Wire at the Teton County Library.

Going into the second full week post-surgery though, I could weight the handlebars equally with both hands. Which, of course, to me, meant I was ready to ride outside. My doctor felt differently though. Trying – for once – to be a mostly compliant patient, I promised I’d keep my training indoors. He asked for a month. I told him I could give him another week.

The gears in my head immediately went into overdrive. What – besides watch episode after episode of The Wire — could I do to get myself through another week of indoor riding? Was there any way I could make it interesting? Is there anything I could do to make it a week that counted?

It may have taken others longer than the walk through the waiting room at Teton Orthopaedics to come up with the idea – if they ever would — of taking their favorite stage race and bringing it inside, but, as I’ve already explained, when it comes to boredom and repetition in athletics, I’m a superstar. Idiotic ideas come to me naturally. Easily.

Tour de Trainer – based on The Elkhorn Classic — started the next day. The day after that, I had to hide all the knives and razor blades in the house. Still, I pushed on. Half-way through the final day (“half-way” being about 2 hours, 45 minutes), my eyes had rolled to the back of my head and I wanted it to be over more than I’ve ever wanted anything to be over before. (And that includes an Elk Mountain Grand Traverse in which, thanks to the first asthma attack of my life, the last eight miles took my teammate and myself as long to do as did the first 37 miles.)

But, because I am a—perhaps even the – Stubbornness Superstar, I didn’t end it, even though all I had to do was unclip and step down onto the floor of my office. I could have called it, stripped out of my bike shorts, and been lounging on my couch eating Reese’s Peanut Butter cups and Ben & Jerry’s in two minutes.

Now that it’s over and my eyes are back in their proper place, I realize that this particular silly idea did help me. The next time I’m doing something that seems to suck – say, skinning uphill for 24 hours, biking 115 miles and 15,000 vertical feet in one day, or riding up Mont Ventoux — I’ll think back on Tour de Trainer and realize it doesn’t suck. At all.

PS – Since I haven’t actually yet ridden up Mont Ventoux, I am only guessing that it can’t suck as badly as the Tour de Trainer. If anyone wants to further my quest to write on the finest investagatory journalism and fund my testing of this, give me a call.

In short:
Pros of Tour de Trainer

I didn’t get fat.
I won every stage. Off the front.
Feeds could include toasted Thomas’ English muffins with Nutella and peanut butter.
Renewed appreciation for riding outdoors, even in Biblical rain, hail and/or snow.

Cons of Tour de Trainer

You can feel the insanity as it sets in.
Talking to yourself.
Talking to the cats.
Hearing the cats talk back to you.
Having to hide all the sharp objects in the house.

One of the beauties of living in the small state of Vermont with its ancient, worn down, Green Mountains, is the accessibility of the highest peaks. In just a few hours from my back door, I can be standing above tree line on the highest summits in the state.

This accessibility has led to some wonderful traditions among Vermonters, such as watching the 4th of July fireworks from the top of Camel’s Hump. Camel’s Hump is one of the tallest undeveloped mountains in The East, and towers a good 3,000 feet above the pyrotechnics on Independence Day. From the bald summit, one can usually see a dozen or more fireworks displays at once. On a warm and clear summer evening, scores of families will make the hike to the mountain top to enjoy the view and celebrate the holiday.

On a 4th of July evening like we had this year, however, the gathered crowd was much smaller. At the foot of the mountain, visibility was barely 100 feet, and it only got worse as we climbed the muddy trail. The rain came and went, and the wind prevailed. By the time we reached tree line, the temperature was in the 40’s. The futility of our hike wasn’t lost on us. We knew we wouldn’t see any fireworks this evening; we could barely see 50 feet in front of us. We knew we would be wet and cold. But we also knew we would not be alone, and would have a GREAT 4th, despite the weather.

In all, a little over a dozen people showed up on the top of Camel’s Hump this year, three of them being me and my friends Sarah and Adam. We whooped and hollered into the wind. We shared a picnic while bundled in ski clothes, drank wine with mittened hands, and tried to listen for far off ‘booms’ of fireworks through the thick clouds and rain. As the dark thickened, we struggled to light soggy sparklers and grinned like idiots on top of our wonderful little mountain.

A few hours later, just a bit into the AM hours of the 5th, I was back in town, warm and dry in my bed and happy that we had celebrated another great 4th of July together.

Peter Wadsworth is one of Cloudveil’s Inspired Mountain Ambassadors. In his words: I’m a backcountry skier earning my turns among the weather-worn mountains of New England. I also trail run, climb, race bikes and even show up fairly regularly to a day job. But really, these other things are just enablers for backcountry skiing adventures away from the lifts and crowds.

“Broccoli and Tofu” she blurts when you ask what her favorite food is.

We have made our summer garden a family project and the opportunity to influence our daughters eating habits at a young age.  Alyxx is now a bit over 2 ½ and enjoys her trips to the garden as much as mom and dad.  She eats snap peas from the vine, broccoli raw and carrots when she can dig them up.  In addition to grazing on just about everything she loves to water and pitch in with garden chores.

Summer 08 was a great year for the garden and gave us the opportunity to share our booty with family, friends and neighbors.  It was fun to supply everyone with corn, squash, zucchini, carrots, peppers and eggplant.  The process of tilling, planting, watering, weeding, picking and eating has been invaluable and has given us family moments that will last a lifetime.

The garden has been a huge success but our tomatoes and eggplant don’t do much because of the short mountain growing season.  We decided to add a small portable green house in 2009 to increase production.  Green house construction included Alyxx at the top of the ladder, tightening bolts and pulling the tarp over. “I can do it” she says and climbs the ladder with dad!

Beautiful, fun stuff.  Hope the summer garden experiences will last a lifetime!

Garrett and Lisa Ford live in Durango Colorado with their daughter Alyxx. They enjoy distance running, bikes, horses, triathlons, open water swimming and orienteering. They love mountain sports and mountain living!

Purple: blue camas. White: wyethia.

June was a wet month and is our third wettest on record.  We have received 3.75 inches of rain with 1.65 inches being average. Some species thrive in wet conditions and some have challenges. Morels seemed to like the mix of rain and sun. We do have fewer flying insects so fewer swallows.  Vegetation has been and continues to be glorious so herbivores are happy. The endless rain made it tough on visitors, farmers, boaters and other recreationists but now the sun is shining and the trails are clearing of snow.

Morels

At this time of the year, you can witness the transition of the plant world. As you go higher in elevation, you can physically see the change from a winter landscape to a blooming summer meadow. The foothills and sage habitats are filled with flowers. As you begin to ascend into the montane zone (between 6800-9000 feet), you still come across some patches of snow and a mix of blooms. You might see the first flowers- the buttercups, spring beauty and yellow bell lily and also some of the earlier summer blooms -lupine, larkspur, geranium, and nine-leaved desert parsley. The subalpine and alpine zones (9000 feet to treeline) are still mainly snow covered but each day of warmth brings change. The rivers are still high with sediment found in the streams. Peak water is occurring now.

I had the opportunity to explore the Squirrel Meadows area on the Reclamation/Grassy Lake Road north in the valley. It was a main route to the Yellowstone Area during the early 1900’s. It goes from Ashton, Idaho to the Flagg Ranch area in Yellowstone. Visitors would take the train to Ashton then travel on a stagecoach to get to the park. The land is now mainly protected and supports many of the larger predators in the area, specifically the Grizzly Bear.

We enjoyed a day of spring flowers and saw fields of Blue Camas and white Wyethia. Blue Camas was a main food source for the native peoples in this area. They would roast the bulbs preserving them for winter. A favorite camping spot was the shores of Jackson Lake. We even saw the carnivorous plant- the sundew, Drosera rotundifolia. It is a tiny, insect eating perennial herb and also used to treat respiratory tract problems.

June 20 was the summer solstice which is the longest day of light. We align with light to celebrate summer. We align with nature. Time is something we have instilled in our lives so it is nice to live with the light. Rise at dawn, and go to bed at dusk. When we align with the solstice and recognize summer, it does increase the support of nature. Energy is high. Step outside and breathe and you will feel it. Nature supports us. To delve a bit deeper, focus on your breath, quiet your mind, and feel the spaciousness.

Happy summer to all!

(I did receive the rainfall information from Mountain Weather at www.mountainweather.com. It is a great resource for the weather in our area.)

For trail suggestions, a list of what Cathy saw in the woods and to learn more about the Jackson Hole Hiking Experience, visit biologist Cathy Shill’s Hole Hike Web site.

Carnivorous Sundew.

There are Weddings and then there are weddings. Thankfully, Jackson, like many mountain towns, tends to inspire the latter. Male guests decked out in Mountain Khakis and Cloudveil button-downs. Perhaps even Prana climbing shorts. Women in cotton skirts and climbing tops or, if they want to get really fancy, a dress, but one of the kind that advertises itself as perfect for travel, i.e that doesn’t require the touch of any iron, even after being balled up on the closet floor since last summer’s wedding season. Flip-flops, sunglasses, and visors or hats all around.  Dogs as flowergirl and ringbearer.

But Weddings, of the circus-cum-ceremony kind dozens of magazines and reality shows are dedicated to and a certain type of girl evidently dreams of since the day she emerges from the womb, are a different beast entirely. For starters, they are usually announced by intimidating invitations. Paper of such heavy stock as to require dollars of extra postage and wording that might as well be written in a foreign language. Black-tie recommended? Business formal? Casual business? Temple appropriate? Where’s the interpreter?

Because it is the Wedding of a favorite cousin or best friend from college, you RSVP in the affirmative though, buy your plane tickets, borrow a black-tie, business formal, or temple appropriate outfit and set off. Arriving at the scene of the circus, which – another huge difference – is almost always inside – you 1) make an effort to sit several seats in from the aisle (you usually only know to do this if you’ve got prior experience with this sort of Wedding) or 2) grab the easiest accessible seating and risk an allergic reaction or having an eye poked out as the bride, in a puffy confection of lace, organza, satin, silk, chiffon, taffeta, and/or charmeuse swishes past on her tuxedo-clad father’s arm.

And then there’s the ceremony itself. Native American poems and acoustic-guitar songs played by friends are out the window, replaced by serious sermons, readings from scripture, and skin-jarring organ interludes. Survive all that though, and you’ll begin to enter into more familiar territory: the reception. Free beer and wine seem to have similar effects, whatever the type of crowd.

While out on the dance floor, keep in mind black-tie attire isn’t nearly as suitable for the athletic-type dance moves favored by many mountainites as are a pair of burlap-strong khakis or a soy/cotton blend skirt. And no matter what type of Wedding you’re at, a pair of ripped open tux pants or a dress split open up the back is funny. Unless it’s your pants or dress.

Dina Mishev’s own wedding was in the mountains but, much to her husband’s chagrin had elements of a Wedding, notably big satin bows on the backs of chairs. There was no suggested attire, serious sermon, or scripture reading however. There were two cellos though. They erupted into Eye of the Tiger as she and her new husband were pronounced “man and wife.”

As remote, unsupported backcountry races go, the TourDivide has been a ball to spectate from the LCD. Competitors carry GPS tracking devices, updated online constantly. A good many phone in daily reports; Joe Polk assembles them into an entertaining 20-30 minute podcast at MTBcast.com.

Their stories are familiar, unique and rich. Helpful cowboys, dubious bears, shortcut intrigue. It’s been a rainy year along the route. The recordings paint a portrait of the collective cyclo-tourist soul: a constant reminder of disheartening conditions without sounding disheartened. (There’s a lot of laughter in the background.)

Take Jill Homer’s call from Steamboat Springs. Her brakes failed. She crashed hard. From the confines of my iPod, whose sound-seal earphones blocked the roar of a power mower, the delicate arch of Jill Homer’s emotions made me cease my athletic endeavor of battling tall grass and sit down for a bit. She’s a clear thinker on her feet and probably a superb writer.

Other MTBcast delights:

Paul Howard started off a bit whiney about the ol’ route-finding/map-making conundrum. Now he’s filing goofy, charming bits, like adopting a Russian accent as he files from Kremmling, Colorado.

Deanna Adams rambles amusingly.

Jackson Hole locals Jay and Tracey Petervary are the big draw. Their tandem mountain bike, the Love Shack, sounds like it’s been relatively bombproof. I made a wisecrack early on that I came to regret as callous, about the potential disadvantages of Tracey’s riding position from an olfactory point of view. Turns out I was merely empathetic; hear Tracey’s call from Del Norte.)

The Petervary’s are currently running third overall, a real feat of endurance and companionship. They should hit the Mexico border finish at Antelope Wells, New Mexico on Wednesday.

Matthew Lee closes in on the Mexico border, 18 days from the Canada start. Source TourDivide.Org.

To be updated as soon as DS can wrest himself from an estate on Lofty Lane.

Three times the normal rainfall for the month of June 8.75 inches.

About the only thing to do on the east coast is to enjoy the raging waterfalls that, that much rain is producing. The cliffs are sopping wet, the single track has grown in with mushrooms, the rivers are swollen so every last fish is hanging on for dear life.

The only up side is that there is no need to water the garden, which is growing to rainforest proportions.

Joe Klementovich is an Inspired Mountain Ambassador and assignment photographer: KlementovichPhoto.com.

Heck, we even enjoy a good large mouth bass and cold beer story here at Cloudveil. Salt or fresh, we like it all!

Now, put your money where your mouth is and show the world a photo of your fish … or your friend’s fish … and give us a good story and you could win a Cloudveil Cool Short Sleeve Shirt. All you have to do is post your photo and story on the Cloudveil Facebook Fan page wall and we’ll do the rest.

One winner will be chosen every Monday for the next 10 weeks. That’s June 29 through August 31, for those of you keeping count. You will be notified via your Facebook Inbox and we will announce the winning shot each week on the Cloudveil fan page.

Now, how big was that fish again?