Trudging out of the classroom I swung open the door, and a blast of frigid air hit as I with the frigid weather and hopped into the pickup. We were off to jump my Prius, which was sitting idly a few blocks away in front of the local Family Learning Center. It was a risk – I had to poop. Since I was sleeping in my car the classroom bathroom was my only real option at the moment. Unless my car came back to life.

The past couple days had been a bit of a whirlwind. I was in Silverton, CO for an avalanche training course, and had just finished driving out from Virginia after winter break. So far I had managed to leave my snowshoes in a parking lot the day before class, woke up in the Prius to -30°F weather, woke up in a Prius that refused to start, experienced enormous, feathery ice crystals inside the Prius, and most recently had my fleece gloves and balaclava stolen when I left my gear outside classroom doors. Who steals a balaclava? Needless to say my faith in humanity was taking a considerable nosedive.

Dave and Sophia had come with me to jump the Prius, and as I fiddled with the battery terminal Sophia handed me a note “Hi, I don’t know, I’m just guessing that you may be sleeping in your car and it looks to be another -30°F night. I have a spare house/office/mancave with heat and plumbing that you can use if you like…”

Suddenly all the negative emotions of the day washed away as I looked at this small, handwritten note. Later in the night, while taking a shower I reflected on the events of the day. Mr. Kerwin, the kind gentleman who offered the house to me had been mayor of the town previously. According to him it was typical that a couple younger folks would sleep in their cars during the avalanche courses, during which it was usually quite a bit colder than normal. It was tradition to offer them a bit of lodging if you could pick them out.

I walked to class the next day, warm and well-fed without a care in the world. It didn’t matter that my car didn’t start, or that I had been eating the same, beyond-frozen food for a week straight. I had a warm place to call home. Walking back after the course finished I opened the door to the house and in front of me lay a bag of fresh, homemade chocolate-chip cookies. My faith in humanity was restored.

Before the oozing and brusing.

Unfortunately I’m not working on this beautiful day, but instead I’m swatting bugs off my oozing face while feeling pretty mellow with hydrocodone in my system. Along those lines, if anything in this post doesn’t make sense then please disregard it – I feel fine, but then again the last time I was on narcotics I took my bike apart and don’t have a single memory of it.

Yesterday I was ripping along the trails at Freedom Park in Williamsburg. It was my first time riding in that area, and I was with Passages, the camp I teach whitewater kayaking and riding with. Throughout the “C” trail (aka the most technical) there were various optional obstacles and jumps placed throughout. Matt O. and Stratton were killing it on these jumps, with one aptly named “Shotgun.” I gave my go at two small double jumps, landed the first one perfectly and then unexpectedly continued on despite planning to pull out before the second one. The second jump had a bit of a flatter landing, and I was a bit too far forward so I slid out with the front of the bike. Nothing major, just a small cut on the back of my knee and some dirt on the arms.

Later, we came across three ramps in a row. I checked them out and planned on demoing the smallest one. Londrey blew by me though and did the smallest one. Quickly I decided to do the middle one – could it be that bad? Apparently it was as I have no recollection of approaching the jump, hitting the ramp, or landing on my front wheel and eating dirt with my face.

Launching.

Luckily I was only out for 30 or 40 seconds and Matt O. the EMT quickly stabilized my neck. All I remember is dreaming about mountain biking, and waking up with no idea where I was but feeling very relaxed. I then made sure that the EMTs wrote in their report that I was injured doing a “big jump” – while the actual jump was less than 2 feet tall.

Time to say goodbye to my favorite helmet.

Cracks.

Later, after an ambulance ride and some CT scans and X-Rays at the hospital I learned that nothing was broken, just that I had trekked in loads of dirt and mulch into the sterile ER room. I even managed to prevent my parents from starting their vacation at the beach that night as they drove back to the hospital to check on me. A few hours and lots of gauze later the wounds on my face were cleaned up, and a cool sugar-momma doctor who served in Spain painlessly stitched up a cut above my lip.

I’ll be out for the next 6 months anyway after shoulder surgery, so a little bruising on the face won’t be a big deal. Hopefully I’ll be able to jump in the dirty, but oh-so-enjoyable cesspool named the James River without getting an infection soon.

Until then I’ll be watching the Olympics, 21 Jumpstreet, and Salmon Fishing in the Yemen until I feel more alive and can move my lips again.

Thanks to everyone who took care of me – Brent from Peak, Mr. EMT Matt O, and Woody for taking a picture of something I’ll never remember and for holding my head.

Admittedly I haven’t been paddling much this summer, but I promised myself at least one trip to the continuous, intoxicating whitewater of the Upper Youghiogheny. My shoulder is in pretty bad shape, but I kept a close eye on my paddling technique and got away with a few braces without any trouble.

Ryan, CJ, and my brother came along for the scenic drive from Richmond early Saturday morning. We arrived plenty early for the release, and quickly noticed that it was noticeably cooler than Richmond – drytops would have been nice. Luckily the weather improved later in the afternoon, and the cool waters of the Upper were a refreshing break from the blazing sun.

Cruising down scenic byways.

By happenstance I met up with Borge, a Colorado College graduate whom I paddled the Rio Chama with this past spring. It turns out he was good friends with a paddler Van knew in Norway – it’s interesting how connected the world is. I caught up with him later at National where he showed us a cool jumpspot below the hole. Have fun in Norway man!

Borge brings the boof.

Per usual, the weather turned toward the wet side that night. I can’t remember ever camping at Paddler’s Lane without it pouring. After failing to light a fire before the deluge, I hopped into my bivy and attempted to get some sleep. This reminded me to figure out a way to breathe in a fully zipped up bivy. Hop on over to the Bivy Breathing Mask page for more on that!

After an obligatory visit to Sister’s Cafe in Confluence, Matt and Ryan pulled out killer boofs on Ohiopyle Falls. Such was the end of the weekend visiting hands down one of my favorite summer rivers.

Upstream from National

CJ with the levitating kayak.

Solid.

Biting monsters?

Matt pulling through.

Van with the Proline.

Dylan coming in hot

Michael with the oldschool moves.

National beatdown.

Ryan clearing the hole.

Matt going in for the soft landing.

View from Paddler’s Lane.

I bet there’s a lot of gold under those rainbows.

I saw this beauty from Semmes Ave. while driving shuttle after kayaking yesterday. I had complained about having to drive shuttle, but this sight made it more than worth it. It’s funny how life works out sometimes.

Location: Semmes Ave. Richmond, VA

Camera: iPhone

Earlier in the day I was looking through some recent GoPro footage and came across this clip from an early Saturday Dawn Patrol run. Waking up at 4:30 to paddle may have been one of the best decisions of the weekend.

I don’t know the name of this rapid, but I always felt like I just managed to thread through the rocks – albeit without much style. This run, however, I pinballed between the rocks and took a casual left stroke to slide right off the small bottom boof. I can’t quite describe the feeling, but the line seemed so fluid. There’s a feeling you get when you know you did something just right but didn’t expect it. It’s amazing what that single stroke did for me.

My shoulders felt tense as I scouted Supernova, the bottom drop of Eleven Mile Canyon, seeking out low-water lines. Once my drysuit was on I limbered up, doing a few quick arm circles, convincing myself that my shoulders were sufficiently warmed up.

Robby slid into the eddy behind me, and with a couple strokes I was bouncing down the rapid. I caught an edge coming off a small slide, pinning both Robby and I above a flake leading into a four-foot drop. After a little bit of teamwork we both slid off the flake, continuing down the run.

I eddied out after the slide, forgetting the channel I needed to be in on the left side. After calling out to David I ferried out of the eddy and went a little too far right in the left channel, going between two shallow rocks, feeding me right into the wall. Watching the GoPro footage made me sick as I remember the feeling of throwing up a left high-brace, feeling my shoulder slide out of its socket, and flipping over.

Typically, or at least the past 4 times I’ve dislocated shoulder paddling, the shoulder pops back in after just a couple seconds and I can roll back up. This time, however, I couldn’t torque on the shoulder and wasn’t able to roll back up. My right hand searched blindly for the grab loop, and I swam out of my kayak. As soon as I started to swim my shoulder found its way back into the socket. Luckily my boat pinned just a couple feet downstream and my paddle eddied out upstream of me so I didn’t loose any gear.

Just a couple hours earlier I was contemplating spending the weekend in Durango to do Vallecito, and of course I was psyched to do the Teva Games in just two weeks. Unfortunately this was my 6th dislocation in 18 months and I really need to be careful with my shoulder. I don’t want to have it dislocate on a run like Vallecito and get seriously hurt because of it, so it looks like I’ll be doing a lot of mellow paddling in the Southeast this summer.

Starting to warm things up.

Darkness began to envelop the world around me, golden flickers of sunlight shot across the sky, and then a cool calm pervaded the air. I reached down, held the bottle under my nose, took a sniff, and downed two gulps as quickly as I could.

I nearly gagged.

It’s Saturday night of Easter Weekend in Colorado, and here I am, enjoying the sunset with my bike and a greasy, cool bottle of cold-pressed olive oil. With 240 calories per ounce I figured that the bottle would be an easy way to restore the calories burned earlier, but I failed to take into account the burning sensation olive oil imparts on the back of the throat as you gulp it down. Luckily I had my roasted almonds and raisins nearby, but I just couldn’t stomach eating anymore at that point.

I had Saturday afternoon and all of Sunday to make it to Cripple Creek from Colorado Springs, roughly a 36 mile bike ride on Old Stage & Gold Camp Rd. through Pike National Forest. The two limiting factors were time and elevation as Cripple Creek is over 3,000 ft. higher than Colorado Springs. I also quickly learned that the third limiting factor would be my legs – they just couldn’t handle the punishment of climbing 15 miles to 9,000 ft. on a single speed setup with 30 pounds on my back – at least 15 pounds of it water.

That's nearly 6 liters of water alone.

Ascending to 9,000 ft. was brutal, pedals grinding and sweat running down my face into my pink cotton long-sleeve button up shirt. As each turn approached I prayed that the continuous 6-10% grade of the dirt road would let up, but to no avail as I climbed higher and higher. The sun began to fall in the sky, and I grew anxious as the land on either side of the road was steep – too steep and rocky for a good campsite. Scanning the sides of the road I eventually spotted a road above that paralleled Gold Camp. Leaving my bike and pack behind, I trudged up a loose-gravel embankment, caught a glimpse of the sun barely floating over the mountaintops, and walked a short ways down the narrow road to find a campsite.

With an open space covered in rocks and gravel and a flat, sheltered area under pine trees, the camping spot was perfect. I quickly changed into warmer clothes and set out to gather firewood. Minutes later I had enough dry wood to keep the fire going for an hour or two, and I set my lighter under a pinecone. The flame hit the sap, a few bubbles rose to the surface, and then a strong blue and yellow flame worked its way up the side of the cone. After surrounding the circle with some rocks and adding kindling I finally had a respectable fire. Few things are as satisfying as making your own fire – the tool to self-reliance in the wilderness.

Pinecones have sap. Sap burns well.

Going bigger.

I crawled into my sleeping bag, adjusted my sleeping pad, and slowly settled into the ground as I looked up to the sky to see a full moon illuminating the landscape. Not accustomed to sleeping outside I woke up several times that night, but the moon greeted me every time and I quickly fell back into sleep.

Luxurious sleeping arrangements.

Sunlight glinted off the trees and I slowly gathered my belongings , setting back out on the road with sore legs. After about a mile, the grade of the road lessened and I came to a spectacular overlook of Colorado Springs framed by the mountains of North Cheyenne Park. I took a quick self-portrait, scrambled up some rocks for few more pictures, and then continued on.

Exhausted but happy.

The road, relatively flat by this point, meandered through the side of the mountains at just under 10,000 ft. Each turn brought a new vista, and I kept pedaling knowing that I would get nowhere near Cripple Creek but craving the adventure of pushing further.

Soon my body got the best of me and I needed to turn back. I stopped at a land bridge with a small creek trickling underneath it, had a bite to eat, tightened my gear onto my pack, let out some of the air in my tires, and took off on the descent.

The ascent the previous day paid off as I whizzed around each bend in the road, going as fast as I dare on a loose dirt road with 30 pounds on my back. The miles flew by and I soon happened upon a police car stopped on the shoulder of the road. Then I spotted a car embedded in a small creek. The car must have taken a corner a little too fast and run right into the creek. It was interesting to see since we had been talking about car crashes so much in EMT class. Dismounting my bike I snapped a couple quick pictures and continued down the road.

That's unusual.

Less than 2 hours after starting the descent I was back at campus. In a semi-exhausted state I took a quick shower and dug into my homework. And with that I set the adventures of the weekend behind me and went back to the grind of the real world.

Ride Information:

Saturday afternoon to camp

Returning early morning Sunday

Pictures

Posing at the overlook of Colorado Springs.

Almost 4,000 feet above downtown.

Talk about sprawl.

Discovering the self timer mode.

Improved self portrait.

Turn around point.

About level with the NORAD antennas on the middle right.

Natural beauty.

I woke up Wednesday to snow falling in Colorado Springs, went to class for an exam, and by 1 o’clock we were driving northwest through snow on our way to Fruita. I was stoaked to be able to get one more kayaking run in as well as boat with a fantastic group of 24 stuffed into two vans. The trip was sponsored by the Outdoor Club at Colorado College, so there were some that had never rafted before which was exciting as we would be showing them the beauty and power of some local rivers.

Abundant Flatwater

We put on the next morning at the Loma launch as we planned to run Ruby & Horsethief Canyon before entering Westwater Canyon since we could only camp for a night in Westwater. I didn’t know it at the time, but 25 miles of flatwater, plus another 15 or so for Westwater,  is daunting – especially in a kayak. Luckily, I had borrowed an old Perception Sparc from the college, which made for a bit of old school fun. The weather was beautiful for the three days we were on the river, and it was just warm enough that I was comfortable sleeping outside every night in my new Marmot Hydrogen sleeping bag.

Lots of Water & Photos

The river was flowing at a healthy 5k cfs, so the current carried us most of the way, and the hole at Skull was just perfect for punching with a kayak. There weren’t any mishaps for the whole run, and every raft stayed upright! The trip was a blast, and I finally remembered to keep daily journal entries. Here are a couple photos from the trip:

Shot on a Canon EOS Rebel T1i.
Edited with Apple’s Aperture.

Getting ready to launch.

Suiting up for a day on the river.

David surfing Little D

The wave at Little D provided some fun playboating for us – when we could catch it from the eddy. Ferrying out was easy in the Sparc, but I only got it once or twice when I switched to a small playboat.

Nicely coated in frost

We had to hang around camp every morning until the sun hit so the frost would melt off all our gear. A frozen Greenjacket isn’t fun to put on.

Elk meat sauce

One of the kayakers had shot an elk this time last year, so we worked on eating some of the meat. It was delicious with pasta and vegetables.

Catching honey

We had a bit of downtime at the takeout, so naturally we watched Min catch honey in his mouth as it was fell from the top of our bus.

Man vs. Nature

One of my favorite pictures from the trip. A sharp contrast between the beauty of fall colors with the beauty of man’s accomplishments flying in the background.

Boating season is done, but hopefully I’ll be able to get a run in on the Big Thomson before skiing starts!

Moby

I recently started work on producing a film for the budding non-profit Homer Wilderness Leaders [HoWL], and was searching for some free music to use within the film. I did quick Google search for “non-profit film music”, and Moby‘s site MobyGratis popped right up. Apparently it’s been around for a while, but this is an invaluable and overlooked source of free background music for independent or non-profit films.

What Moby Says

The website is designed in a minimalist fashion, but here’s what he has to say about the music:

hi,
i’ll keep this brief.
this portion of moby.com, ‘film music’, is for independent and non-profit filmmakers, film students, and anyone in need of free music for their independent, non-profit film, video, or short.
to use the site you log in(or on?) and are then given a password.
you can then listen to the available music and download whatever you want to use in your film or video or short.
the music is free as long as it’s being used in a non-commercial or non-profit film, video, or short.
if you want to use it in a commercial film or short then you can apply for an easy license, with any money that’s generated being given to the humane society.
i hope that you find what you’re looking for,
moby

Using the Site

Once you create an account on the site, you can browse through the available tracks and play full versions of each. If you find a track that you feel would be suitable for your project, click on “request license” and fill out a couple questions about the intended use. Assuming that Moby gives approval, you can then download the song and use it in your production.

I haven’t downloaded any songs yet, but I’m sure I will in the near future. Once I get some songs to use in the HoWL video, I’ll post a review of the site up at Fluid Glass Reviews.

Also, thank you Moby for providing such a great resource.

Contribute

Do you have any other favorite sites for “free” music suitable in non-profit videos? Feel free to leave any comments or suggestions below.

The shopping cart in question.

Save the shopping cart:

http://www.change.org/petitions/residential-life-save-the-shopping-cart-allow-shopping-cart-to-remain-locked-up

The Issue at Hand

In the past week, the Slocum Residential Life staff has decided that this shopping cart is an eyesore. In addition, the RLC has declared that the presence of a shopping cart on campus is one of the more “bizzare” issues that she has had to deal with. Multiple notes have been left on the cart by a Slocum workman stating that he is on the verge of cutting through the lock connected to the bike rack, and disposing of the shopping cart. I believe that I have the right to possess a shopping cart on campus.

How I Got a Shopping Cart

No, I didn’t steal it from a homeless person. And frankly, it’s a shame that most people associate shopping carts with the homeless population.

I procured the shopping cart while on a run next to Monument Creek behind campus. I noticed a shopping cart rolled over in the creekbed, so I scampered down, lifted it out of the creek, and brought it home. It presumably ended up there after Monument Creek reached record flood levels following rain about a month ago. After arriving at Slocum, I locked it up immediately so that no one else would steal my treasure.

Maybe it’s overkill.

Although the maintenance man threatened to cut the lock, I’m not exactly sure if he could. The OnGuard Beast Chain Lock is pretty beefy.

Why I Need It

Shopping carts are useful in all types of situations. This includes carting an injured friend around campus, to hauling large amounts of books, or even as a homemade trailer behind my bike. Essentially it’s a rolly backpack on steroids, and it has four wheels like a car, but it’s environmentally friendly.

An “Eyesore”

I fail to see any reasoning behind this shopping cart being an eyesore. The only possible situation I could see here is that individuals associate shopping carts with the homeless population, so they assume that Slocum is inhabited by a homeless student? Yes, I live here. No, I’m not homeless. The cart is also in remarkably good shape, and maybe I’ll even wash it next weekend so I can really show it off.

Furthermore, I would like to point out that there are numerous bikes lying around the Slocum bike racks. Some are missing from tires, others have chains that are rusting off. I presume that the administration wouldn’t refer to these dilapidated bikes as “eyesores”, so why a shopping cart? I’ve also strategically locked the shopping cart to the end of the bike rack so that it doesn’t block other students from safely locking up their bikes.

If bikes, skateboards, and even golf carts are allowed on campus, why not a shopping cart?

Eyesore #1

Eyesore #2

Please, if you agree that a shopping cart should be allowed on campus, sign the following petition. I appreciate it.

http://www.change.org/petitions/residential-life-save-the-shopping-cart-allow-shopping-cart-to-remain-locked-up