August 6, 2008
~ Anderson Reservoir, Trinity Lakes ~
This past weekend, Josh and I went camping in the Anderson Reservoir/Trinity Lakes area. I'd like to begin by directing you to Josh's blog entry that contains a nice summary of the events.
The Anderson Reservoir/Trinity Lakes is a lovely area. That photo above is of the canyon right at the base of the reservoir. And a big reservoir it is. To get to where we would camp, we had to drive on a scary road to the end of the reservoir and then through the forest and mountains to some campgrounds approximately 13 miles before Trinity Lakes (some high mountain lakes). Our camp spot was lovely.
Soon after we arrived, we went on a mountain bike ride up Fire Road #101 which took us up a gradual climb to the top of some mini-mountains. After the bike ride, we went down to the stream adjacent to our camp, and washed the dust and sweat off our persons and spent several hours splish-splashing around in the water. This was one of my favorite activities of the trip. We cracked open a few beers and had a splendid time playing stream-side.
Interestingly, we opted not to have a camp fire. I realize this is normally a prime joy in camping, but for some reason we weren't feeling it. Instead, we went on a nice evening walk - - primarily so that I could massage the terrible intestinal cramp that I had developed - - played some smashmitten and boggle, and retired to the tent for some reading at a ridiculously early hour. I read half of an exciting science fiction short story about a kid who stumbles upon an abandoned alien space ship and takes it for a spin. It was apparently one of the year's best sci-fi short stories, some years ago.
The next day's primary activity was a big mountain bike ride up to the Trinity Lakes area. According to Josh's calculation, we climbed about 2300 feet in elevation. We rode up a gravel mountain road, which featured an interesting mix of turns and straight-aways, smooth dirt and rugged rocky surfaces. The first part of the ride was through the forest, and then it took us well above the tree line to a higher mountain zone. After two hours of consistent climbing, I began to wonder how much farther it would be to get to the lakes. It was about this point that the road began featuring some more challenging rugged surfaces that took a bit more effort to pedal one's bike over. Also, without the trees, we found ourselves more directly in the sun's rays. All of this, in addition to the fact that my leg muscles were starting to feel the burn, compelled me to feel a bit cranky. At some point, a truck passed us and Josh took the opportunity to ask how much farther it was to the lakes. The man said that the lakes were still a ways away and that the road was really rugged and that we wouldn't be able to ride our bikes up there. This last statement really irritated Josh because the guy clearly underestimated the utility of the mountain bike. Soon after that, we found the turn-around spot. It took about 2.5 hours to ride up, and about 15 minutes to bonzai down. I must say, wow, the downhill was incredibly fun. We had the whole road to ourselves and we bombed down SO FAST. Before we began the descent, Josh commented that we would probably be using our breaks a lot, what with all of the ruggedness and turns. In reality, the breaks were hardly used. I did opt to navigate the particularly rugged stuff slowly, and those sections I really enjoyed - - it's amazing what sort of terrain a person can roll right over on a bike, I didn't even bother navigating around huge rocks, I just rode over them. On the smoother surfaces, I kept my fingers off the breaks and was flying down the mountain. So thrilling! I wish that I had my cycle computer on the bike so that I could have known how fast I was actually travelling - - Josh seems to think that it was faster than ever before and I have to concur. Of course, as irony would have it, Josh later consulted a map and discovered that we had stopped not too far from the lakes.
Photos for this adventure may be found on my Anderson Reservoir photoset
June 19, 2007
~ mini-vacation Salmon, Idaho ~
I have found that when one has the opportunity to embark upon a spontaneous mini-vacation, that it is generally in one's best interest (of having a splendid time) to take advantage of that opportunity. Last week, Josh and I had such an opportunity - - he had the rare, so to speak, chance to take a three day "weekend" (being that his normal weekend is Friday and Saturday, it became a three-day with the additional day off of Thursday). It turned out to be a perfect week for me to cut my hours short by two days, despite the short notice of taking Thursday and Friday off on Monday. We then had two days to come to an agreement about how to spend our mini-vacation. Now, I don't know about all you other couples out there, but occasionally Josh and I find ourselves engaged in heated negotiations to agree on something. With regards to the mini-vacation debate, we each had our hearts set on a certain place, only for the other person to articulate a number of reasons in disfavor of that location. Eventually, the night before we were planning to set off on our adventure, we found agreement on the location of Salmon, Idaho.
According to Mapquest, the drive from Boise to Salmon is estimated at 5 hours and 11 minutes. Josh and I had established approximately 3 hours as the maximum time allowance for driving, so it's surprising that we decided to travel somewhere with almost twice the travel time. To compensate, we decided to stop at about the halfway point for a big bike ride. We stopped several miles before Stanley and completed a 20 mile loop around the Knapp Creek area of the Sawtooths.
The Knapp Creek Loop was pretty fun. When we arrived at the trailhead, there was a big bright yellow sign indicating that the area was "BEAR COUNTRY" and advised trail users to make noise so as not to startle any bears. Now, I have read enough reports about people in Idaho being mauled by bears to take a sign like that seriously. Which is why, for the majority of the ride, Josh and I were singing and humming nonsensical tunes for to not startle bears. For me, however, it was a nice change to fear being mauled by a bear than to be afraid of some aspect of the bike ride. Indeed, there was nothing about the ride that could have frightened a 'fraidy pants like me. It was labelled as a beginner/intermediate ride, the only reason for the intermediateness about it being a wee little bit on the technical side and the length (20 miles being nothing to shake a stick at). Personally, I was loving the wee little bit of technical action on the trail - - one does not see much technical spots on the Boise foothills - - and it was a nice challenge that made the ride more interesting. Another interesting factor about the ride were the number of creek crossings we faced. There was quite a bit of water running down those mountains, sieved nicely into streams and creeks. The first major creek crossing I peddled my way through no problem, despite my feet and ankles dipping fully into the water. The other major crossing was more of a river which was far too deep for peddling. Wow, ice water from the mountains can sure make one's feet lose all circulation quickly!
The last few miles of the ride got a bit old for me - - we left Boise at 9:00 in the morning, started our bike ride at 1:00 in the afternoon, and that was a long time for me to go without a full meal. At mile 17 of the bike ride (which was around 2:45), I was officially about to faint from starvation. We had all kinds of energy bars and calorie drinks, but I needed FOOD. After returning to the car, we quickly made our way to Stanley where we had a big meal. The last leg of the drive was a bit more tedious and uncomfortable, as our butts were in the process of withering up and dying from sitting in the car for so long.
But we made it! The night before, we made reservations to stay at the Greyhouse Bed and Breakfast (see above photo), which is 12 miles outside of town along the Salmon River. We stayed in one of the cabins for a very reasonable rate. Our cabin was nice and odd. It was a good solid cabin with a comfy bed...and it was decorated with a simply ridiculous amount of fish motifs. There were stuffed fish everywhere, several on the bed as pillows, some on the chairs as cushions, and even some sticking here and there for mere decoration. The walls had a wide assortment of fish in various format, everything was fish, fish, fish. Whatever, the bed was comfy and there was plenty of hot water.
After settling into our fishy cabin and taking showers, Josh and I decided to drive on over to Salmon for some groceries. It was about 8:00 by the time that we hit the road again. We took a quick tour of the town, which is super cute, and stopped by a grocery store for some food items, and beer. We then sat on our porch at the cabin, snacking and drinking our beers. It was very nice.
The next day, we rose at 8:00 and had breakfast with our fellow bed and breakfasters. We also procured a map of the area and began to ponder our adventures for the day. After breakfast, we went back to the town for some real exploring. We walked up and down Main Street, visited the Lemhi County Historical Museum (where Josh and I were both conned into picking up solidified hair balls from cows' stomachs - - those Salmonites have questionable senses of humor). Josh took the opportunity to question several individuals about possible mountain biking trails. There were several options and, ultimately, we decided to ride Twelve Mile Creek for the reason that we would not have to drive to get there (it began a block down from the Greyhouse Bed and Breakfast).
Twelve Mile Creek is a forest service road that travels up and up into whatever wilderness area. I think that we were forewarned that it is a rocky road, but it's difficult to know how much weight to give various warnings. You know, Josh and I have been warned about mountain biking on this or that trail by all sorts of non-mountain bikers, only to discover that there was no need for any kind of a warning. This Twelve Mile Creek forest service road was just like the warnings we heard... ROCKY - - and I don't mean there were some rocks on it, I mean that the entire road for miles and miles is nothing but big loose rocks, such that it was quite a challenge to ride. And it was HOT. The grade did not seem like much, but after looping around the first switchback, I glanced down into the bottomless void from which I had ridden, and realized we were climbing much more than it seemed. We stopped at several of the streams coming down the mountain and stuck our heads in the icy water to cool down - - did I mention that it was HOT?! We made it about 9 miles up before we gave up - - we were hoping to arrive at some scenic meadow area, but with each switchback going higher and higher, our hopes diminshed. And the rocks were making for something of an unpleasant climb. It was not the nice technicals of the ride the previous day, it was frustrating rockiness that was just a pain in the bottom. So after 9 miles of butt pains, we turned around. I had been a little wary about the prospect of the downhill on such a rocky, deceivingly-steep road with a massive drop off into a deep void off the side of the road (see: fraidy pants). So I started my descent focusing on my proper biking form, not looking at the scary drop off next to me, and trying to not wipe out on the rocks. At some point, I thought about how one could really fuck one's self up by crashing on such a road. Somehow, in spite of all these scary factors, I was having fun! I hit a massive rock head on, unintentionally, and it was absorbed into my shocks and my descent continued uninterrupted. As I continued down, carefully engaging my breaks at the proper times (not in corners, not as I hit big rocks, not as I rolled through loose sections of rocks) and let my wheels carry me through the sketchy sections, it became really awesome. Soon, I let go of the breaks all together and only used them to keep my speed from getting out of control. According to my computer, I was going 15...18...20...22...25...27 miles an hour down a steepish rocky road, faster than a car would have gone, with my shocks absorbing all of the rocks so that my ride was cushy and comfy. For a good while, I was even seated, with the rear suspension making for a smooth ride. After a while, I started riding over the bigger and looser rocks, just for practicing. At the bottom, the straightaway before the highway, I was going almost 35 mph, which is pretty fast for me. It was a great ride!
That evening, we went back into town for some dinner at a place called the Shady Nook. I enjoyed some blackened salmon and sweet potato fries and Josh had some kind of alfredo pasta thing and french onion soup. We then wandered around down by the river where Josh impressed me with his ability to skip rocks. I hypothesize that the skipping of rocks is some base animal instinct that dudes have retained over the ages in order to attract a mate. The rock skipping ritual lasted quite some time, it was as though Josh was showing of his vibrant plummage.
The next day, Saturday, was the end of our mini-vacation. We had breakfast at the Greyhouse and loaded into the car for the drive back. We opted to go the LONG way so that we could see Craters of the Moon. We biked a 7 mile loop around the area, and saw lots of volcanic stuff. I'd never been there before, so it was nice to have that opportunity.
Also during the drive back, we opted to stop in several of the small towns along the way for a quick walk around. In Mackay, pop. 500, we found a number of yard sales to peruse and managed to skedaddle out just in time to miss the town parade. I don't parades. We had lunch in another little town, Carey, I believe. Also, I had quite the giggle as we passed through Arco, the first community in the world to be lit by nuclear power!
The great misadventure of the trip was while we were driving along this remote highway after leaving Mackay, at 65 mph, and all of a sudden Josh (who was driving) looked in the rearview mirror and screamed "Your bike is gone!" I practically had a heart attack as I looked back at the trunk rack to see no Minty Fresh (what I named by brand new expensive bike). Immediately, we turn around, thinking that the bike must have flown off the rack (because it was on the rack when we left Mackay). The amazing irony being that this was a brand new fancy pants rack that Josh arranged for us to use specifically for this trip. For years, I've used this trunk rack that my dad found at some thrift store for $5, and it has served me well (no bikes flying off). This rack that I've had, however, has just seemed like an accident waiting to happen. The manner in which it fastens to the car is questionable, and Josh and I are always going to great pains to secure the bikes to the rack. So for this big trip, Josh wanted to have the piece of mind of using a high quality brand new bike shop recommended rack. It attaches to my car so much better, and it has wonderful pads and straps for the bikes, to hold them securely. So it was quite the shock to look back and see that my bike was no longer on the rack! As we were driving back from whence we had came, I was scanning the sides of the road, expecting to see my brand new (expensive) bike, having been crushed and run over by the traffic, all bent up, broken, and sad. Boy, was my heart rate up. We did not drive for very long when we began to wonder if perhaps the bike was somehow dragging along behind us. Josh pulled over and I ran to the back, where I discoverd my bicycle dangling by the cheap cable lock that we had used to lock the bikes to the rack while in the thief-ridden town of Mackay. Somehow, the straps securing the bike to the rack came undone and the bike flew off the rack, but the lock held. I cannot find the words to describe my relief that my bike was not only NOT bent, broken, and sad along the side of the road, but that it appeared to be undamaged. I was so glad that we had randomly decided to put the crappy cable lock on the bikes, which would have done nothing if a thief had really wanted to steal our bikes, but which managed to hold the bike up enough so that it wasn't even dragging along the road as we sped along at 65 mph. There is not even single a scratch on sweet Minty Fresh!
Whew!
Anyhoo, here's a link to my flickr set on this mini-adventure.
June 11, 2007
~ cramping quads ~
Is it true that when one does an extra-ordinary amount of difficult physical activity, that one is the most sore two days later??? I guess I'm not so much "sore" per se, but rather that one of my quadriceps is seizing up into these painful cramps. I hypothesize that it is acting up because of an unusual quantity of bicycle riding I engaged in this weekend. After all, on Friday I did a 17 mile ride, and the next day, I rode 25 miles, both on the mountain bike.
The second of these long rides was to the old ghost town of Silver City. After 12.5 miles of riding uphill and getting overheated enough to stick my head into a creek to cool down, I was happy to arrive at the dusty gates of Silver City. Josh and I had driven to the end of the pavement and then ridden bikes the rest of the way (12.5 miles rest of the way). The ride was not as difficult as I had expected. Not nearly as steep and the road was in much better condition than I expected it to be. The road, however, was hardpack with a thin layer of loose sand, and I had a near-wipeout-miss. The ride was made difficult by the heavy backpack that I was carrying. I hate carrying things on my back and I actively seek to avoid it under most circumstances. However, it was necessary for me to carry extra water, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and some other supplies, and I had no other means to carry them except for aforementioned backpack. But, oh man!, it was so heavy and it felt like it weighed an extra 30 pounds and was dragging me down, cramping up my shoulders and back.
Silver City itself wasn't quite what I had expected. As a ghost town, I had imagined abandoned buildings and tumbleweeds rolling through the streets. I also wasn't expecting to see as many people as there were. Not only are the buildings in use, some people actually live there, but most of the buildings are being renovated and restored. There were also a lot of people there, it was a popular place! Most everyone was driving an SUV or ATV and we had several people exclaim to us, "Did you ride your bikes the whole way up that road?!!!"
As some point, we were down by the creek that runs through the middle of town, underneath a large wooden building, when a dude in an ATV came by and offered to let us see the inside of the building. As we were on the wrong side of the creek from the front door, he allowed us to sit on the hood of his ATV (me, holding on for dear life!) while he took us across the creek. Inside the building, we discovered a veddy veddy old Mason Lodge. There were all kinds of odd things here and there, peeling wallpaper, and dusty cult trinkets. Probably the most interesting find was an old globe that (you know, because it was old) had different nation states than what we know today.
Silver City is in a valley in the mountains. After we had ridden ten miles up and up and up the mountains, we had about 2.5 miles to descend into the town. On the return trip, my legs were cursing me for making them continue to work. I kept telling them, my legs, that they didn't have much more work to do, that it was almost over, but they were having none of it, being all cranky and pissy with me. After that climb, there was a good long downhill which I took the opportunity to practice braking techniques. At the very end, there was another climb right before the spot where we had parked the car. I must have gotten some sort of adrenaline rush on the downhill, because I suddenly had more energy than I had on the rest of the ride and it was probably the funnest part of the whole ride for me. It was one of the steeper grades, yet I was easily going twice as fast than my average pace up the rest of the climbs.
Incidentally, I've got a computer hooked up to my computer, so I do know for a fact the distance and speed at which I was riding. My fastest speed on that downhill was 28 mph, which felt pretty fast to me. On the ride the previous evening, the mere 17 miles on the Boise front, my fastest speed was 32 mph, which I was peddling down Bogus Basin Road in an effort to catch up to some downhill riders we had chatted with up on the trail. I thought it would be super funny if I zoomed up to them and said, "Hey guys, how's it hanging?" while passing them. Unfortunately, right as we caught up to them, one of the dudes crashed on the pavement in a spectacular tour de force and I had the opportunity to see his muscle tissue poking out from under his knee and an arm with a lot of missing skin. Somehow, his friends kept on riding, so Josh and I kept the dude company until his friends had the sense to come to his aid. I felt a little bad for how happy I was that it wasn't me who had crashed, 'cause I bet it sucks to be him, but hey, at least empathy doesn't imply that you physically experience the same trauma and pain as another. Empathetically, I felt for his pain, but I certainly didn't feel his pain.
Oh, but to return to the title of this post, Cramping Quads, I'd like to direct your feelings of empathy towards my quadriceps which are crampy and seizing up with tightness. Boo!
April 9, 2007
~ Marsing ~
This weekend, Josh and I went on a mini-vacation to Marsing, the Gateway to the Owyhees. We have been through Marsing numerous times, having thrown some money down at their eating establishments after a hike or bike ride in the Owyhees. While Marsing might not seem like the most amazing place to go on a mini-vacation, it holds a warm place in our hearts and is much more quality than a superficial view conveys. We left Boise on Saturday morning, after procuring some good coffees for the road. Josh had made reservations at the only hotel in Marsing, the Whitehouse Inn. I suppose that from the name, I had expected something slightly more grand than what was the reality. Somehow, the name "Whitehouse Inn" compelled me to assume that we would be staying in a beautifully renovated historic building with a view of the stunning Owyhee mountains. Yet, as I pulled up to the front door, I was a tad surprised to find that the so-called Whitehouse Inn was nothing more than a trailer park, with trailers that had been sectioned off into multiple "hotel rooms." After seeing our portion of the single-wide trailer, I was greatly relieved that we would at least have our own restroom. While I may be harshly judgemental, I'm not much of a snob and I don't insist on existing always with a silver spoon crammed into yee olde netherparts. At the same time, I found that staying in a converted single-wide trailer was to be one of several white trash experiences.
After settling into our accommodations, Josh and I hit the town. We walked "downtown" where we got some very affordable soft tacos from Freddy's Taco stand (a joint that we've eaten at a few times before). Freddy's Tacos is wonderful. It appears to be a family-run establishment that offers affordable food at incredible quality. Ah, just the thought of my tastey tacos makes my mouth salivate. Josh, who is WAY more social and outgoing than I, chatted with some local Marsingians, found out how to pronounce some Spanish words, and through the interaction I was able to get my hands on some homemade salsa for my tacos. I probably applied too much of this homemade salsa, but it was amazing! Zing! Then, we located a park and had all kinds of fun. We swang on swings, teeter-tottered, slided, and I managed to persuade Josh to let me into his fort which he was protecting by throwing rocks and twigs at all of the enemies.
Then, we went down by the lovely and radioactive Snake River. Marsing is also a check point for motorcycle enthusiasts. At the river, there was some kind of motorcycle congregation which we took pains to avoid. The ground was littered with goatheads and I spent several moments plucking them from the soles of my shoes. The most notable landmark in Marsing is Lizard Butte which is basically a hill with some volcanic rock that looks like a giant lizard. It's pretty cool. As you recall, Easter was on Sunday, and while neither Josh nor myself are big followers of Easter, we had planned on joining the locals at the top of Lizard Butte at sunrise for their Easter Sunrise Service. While we were walking along by the river, we took the opportunity to people watch some of the locals as they were fishing in the lovely and radioactive Snake River. Now, it's not as though I am this neat-nick clean-freak, but the polluted waters of the Snake River is not the source from which I would like to get my fish.
On our way back to the "hotel", we stopped by the grocery store, where I was a little surprised at the numbers of dead animals hung about. The entire Marsing adventure had undertones of white trashedness, but this grocery store which displayed dead animals alongside food and beverage for sale was the second clear demarcation of a white trash experience for me. You know how when people hunt and kill animals, they display the dead animal carcass as though it was a trophy...I've never much understood that. Above the greeting cards, in this grocery store, were moose and elk heads, above the candy and pre-packaged baked items, stuffed turkeys. Along the cereal aisle, there was even a dead mountain lion. I know that it's hard to judge taste sometimes, but I prefer to not live around dead animal carcasses, so I've never quite understood the many people who choose to swathe their walls with dead animals. I mean, why not display a family photo or a replica of some famous painting? What is the appeal of dead animal carcasses as décor? …Yet another mystery of life.
That afternoon, we utilized Marsing's Gateway to the Owhyees, to enter into the Owyhees for some mountain bike riding. We went to someplace a bit west of Jump Creek and explored some motorcycle roads. It was a lot of fun. At some point, we rode up to this plateau to take in the view. Josh noticed, in the distance, that the wind was causing a mighty dust storm. And by the look of the clouds, and the smell in the air, it was apparent that we were about to be caught in a sudden torrential downpour. We immediately started to ride back to the car, but the wind was so strong that it proved to be a harbinger of the difficulty that lay ahead. Twice, the wind coming at me to the side was so strong that it literally blew me off the trail and the rain came very quickly. Rain plus strong wind made every exposed part of my person freeze, and then the wind would whip up the sand against my leg, which stung my frozen flesh. What is more, our lack of structured exploring made me feel slightly concerned that we would lose our way. Nevertheless, we made it back safely and returned to our trailer section for a shower before going out to eat.
For dinner, we chose Marsing's finest restaurant, the Sandbar, which is beachside of the lovely Snake River. The meal truly was lovely…it just took forever to arrive. I was concerned about gorging myself on the appetizers. The vegetable soup that came first was divine, and my salad that came twenty minutes later was incredible. An hour later, when my entrée arrived, I was quite uninterested in continuing to sit at the table. Yet, the food was good (though, Josh's was better than mine). Throughout our dining experience, there was a group of real and old school cowboys next to our table. They were having some conversation about the good old days of being a real cowboy, when you could herd your cows in the open range...or whatever. At some point, it was the most obvious thing I've ever seen, one of the cowfolk turned around, looked up Josh and I, turned back around and started saying something about "ferners." Again, I'm not a snob with a silver spoon, but sometimes it takes a bit to understand some of the regional dialects. It was very apparent that he had said the word "ferners" in response to seeing Josh and I, and I was able to deduce that he was poorly enunciating the word "foreigners." I thought it was rather rude. Anyhoo. After we were finished eating, we thought about going to one of the local dive bars, but didn't. We went to bed feeling fully satisfied. Ah…but I probably should mention that the freak torrential downpour which had disrupted the bike ride had not abated by bedtime. In fact, all throughout the night when I would wake up with insomnia every ten minutes, the torrential downpour continued. This put a damper on our plans of attending Easter Sunrise Service at sunrise on Lizard Butte. In fact, it put a damper on the rest of our Sunday plans, which had included a hope of returning to the Owyhees for more mountain bike exploration. Instead, we returned to the big city where I remained exhausted and lethargic all day from my lack of sleep.
You will be pleased to learn that I managed to post a variety of photographs of the adventure.
March 29, 2007
~ Parma, Nyssa, Ontario...ho! ~
On Saturday, despite the pain from my mountain biking crash, I had the opportunity to go on an exploratory adventure. Josh and I packed up our persons and drove West. Our first stop was his old stomping ground, Parma. As we pulled off the highway, we drove up to a replica of Olde Fort Boise, which is apparently the only thing to see in Parma. In front of the withered concrete structure was a sad looking model of Big Foot. At the base was an educational snippet about Big Foot, as though Big Foot were, you know, real. ...It was odd. Speaking of Parman education, while we were there, we stopped by Josh's old middle school where it appeared that the construction of a new building may have destroyed the hiding place of a time capsule that his class had burried beneath the earth. Despite his saddness, he was able to have some fun at a nearby park. Here's a sweet photo of the little apple of mine eye finding some joy in the day. 
We then drove our persons across the border to Nyssa, Oregon where the fun was simply overwhelming. The two-block downtown provided ample amusement for two young bumpkins like ourselves. We started the Nyssan adventure by entering a quilting store and wandering the stock of brightly colored fabric. There was a seemingly antisocial genderless being playing a game on a computer and Josh bought a small stuffed animal friend of the ground hog variety with top hat and bow tie which we named Half Chubb because of its resemblance to a semi-erect penis. Nyssa provided ample more excitement, including a video rental establishment with cheaply priced items and a "fashion" store which embodied the epitome of gaudy. 
View image
And so we found ourselves in search of further excitement in Ontario, Oregon. I might mention that before leaving Boise, we stopped by the record store for some new compact discs with which to listen to some musical tunes, which included the new Modest Mouse album. Josh had wanted to purchase tickets to their concert while we were at the record store, but he learned that the tickets sold out in seven minutes. So, no dice..or, no mice. Anyhoo, Ontario. Our hunger compelled us to drive around town looking for a tasty place to eat (rolling of mine eyes...a tasty place at which to eat, but we were so hungry that we could have eaten an entire establishment). After driving around for a good amount of time, we finally decided to enter a cheezy "Italian" restaurant whose decor I simply could not contain my disgust for. I dunno, call me Judge Mental, but I found their expression of the shabby chic with cheap "made in china" knock-off furniture along with plastic grape vines and postcard photos of Italy not the choices that I would have made if it had been my restaurant. We ordered some garlic bread and sauce which was veddy veddy yummy and some calzones which were alright. I wanted four beers but had water instead. After filling our bellies with authentic Italian food in an establishment that made me feel like I was on the streets of Roma (insert another rolling of the eyes), we wandered the streets until we came upon the local train station. 
September 24, 2006
~ Blue Lake in the Fall ~
On Saturday, Josh and I went to Blue Lake. As usual, it was absolutely stunning. I've never been there so late in the year, and I found the fall colors beautiful. We hiked around the lake and captured some views, relaxed a bit. Then we continued our journey up to the top of the mountains where we were able to see on both sides to the east and to the west. It was awesome. Josh spent a good time with his gazetteer to determine what all of the different landmarks were that we could see. What was particularly amazing was that we could actually see far enough to the east to see the tips of the Sawtooths, which were 58 miles away as a crow flies. Here's a link to my flikr set to view the photos. See if you can see me in the below photo.
July 22, 2006
~ Dancing at the Arcade ~
I've finally gotten around to posting my photos from the camping trip to Upper Payette Lake onto my flickr dealie. If you depress your mouse button on the above photo, your browser should be directed there. I've decided to refer anyone interested in the narrative of the camping trip to Josh's Camper's Log as I feel that it does a very nice job of capturing some of the camping moments.
Anyhoo, last night Josh and I found ourselves in something of a pickle as we tried to decide how to spend our evening together. See, we work kind of incompatible hours, and Friday and Tuesday are the two weekdays that we have the possibility of spending a decent chunk of time together. Which is why I like to embrace my Friday evenings...that, and you know, celebrating the end of the work week. So, part of the problem of deciding what to do was the fact that it was over 100 degrees outside, which basically precluded doing anything outdoors. Josh was attempting to persuade me to go to a movie with him. I, however, was hesitant because I feel that I've had a disappointing several months of trying to go to the movie theaters. A few weeks ago we saw the latest Pirates of the Carribean movie and Josh was so bored that I think he fell asleep (we also saw the LATE showing) and I just sat there and sat there and sat there wondering why the movie wouldn't end. I thought it was terrible, it duplicated so many of its scenes and gimmicks, and the plot failed to substantiate the duration of the film. So we left before it was even over. A few weeks earlier, we saw that Nacho Libre film by the director of Napoleon Dynamite. I believe that I already provided the internet with my thumbs down review, but aside from the fact that I was so annoyed with the teen boys behind me talking for the entire movie, the movie sucked. And we walked out of that one before it was over too. Which makes me feel like both of those experiences were just a waste of money, and I am of the opinion that wasting money is lame. So Josh had quite the task ahead of him if he thought he could convince me to go to another summer blockbuster...
Instead, while I was in the shower after having a workout at the gym, I was brainstorming things to do. I didn't feel like sitting down at an establishment (like a bar or restaurant...or movie theater) so I began to think about what sorts of places would provide airconditioning as well as amusement. And it hit me! A video game arcade!!!
So we went to PoJo's Arcade and played a variety of shoot'em-up games, motorcycle racing, and other standard arcade games, as well as several rounds of that Japanese dancing game (which is quite a workout!) and bumper cars. We left around 10:30, which is my bedtime. By the time that we got to my apartment, I realized that I had locked myself out of my apartment. Which was this complete freak occurrance. I was stressed out because it was way too late to call my landlady to let me in (I've been thinking recently - about the last year - that I need to get a spare key, but I've been putting it off...). Josh and I wandered into the alley behind my apartment and he shimmied up the concrete wall and managed to open my alley window (which was totally latched and locked from the inside) and hoisted himself through. While I was delighted to get back into my apartment, I was alarmed at how easy it was to break into my place of residence.
This morning I got up at 7:00 and went on a two hour road ride before the heat hit. I think it's almost 105 degrees right now. Which is fine because I've already got my exercise in and now I can just relax at an airconditioned coffee shop all day playing on the internet.
July 17, 2006
~ Secesh to Loon Lake ~
This weekend, while Josh and I were camping at Upper Payette Lake in the Payette National Forest, we took a day trip to bike the Loon Lake Loop. We drove about ten miles from our camp to the Ruby Meadows turnoff from Warren Wagon Road. From there we asked for directions to the trailhead, as it was not readily apparent which way to go, and along with directions we also received some information about a WWII era bomber lodged at the far end of the lake. In my googling of Loon Lake information, I discovered someone who had taken photos of the bomber, which can be viewed here. We, incidentally, opted to not hike to the far end of the lake to view the bomber.
The first half of the loop, to Loon Lake, was amazing. It began as a road suited to ATVs and motorcycles, though all access, with fun banked turns and the sort of rollercoastery bumps that off-road vehicles tend to produce, which happen to be super fun on a bicycle. The trail took us through the area that was burned in the 1994 fire, and the effect was a graveyard of trees. Eventually the trail turned into a well maintained singletrack which had a pleasant combination of mild technicals and rolling intervals of ascents and descents, into meadows, forested hilltops, and rocky mountain slopes. There were several wooden bridges to cross as the trail wound through the meadows. These bridges were constructed with a series of wood panels jutting upwards into the center of the bridge. This created an effect similar to a rut. At some point, while I was navigating my bicycle tires in between the wooden bridge rut, my front wheel scraped the edge of the wooden panel causing a loss of control. I sensed that I was about to flip face-first onto the wooden bridge so I attempted to prevent falling with the use of my trusty left leg. As I was trying to catch myself, in a manner involving the wild flailing of limbs, I was stumbling along the bridge with my bicycle firmly attached to my right foot until I launched off of the bridge into the unknown. At either side of the bridge there was some thick tall grass, and it was impossible to see what was beneath the grass (whether water, rocks, mud, etc.). Fortunately for me, there was only soft ground, which provided that the only thing hurt was my pride. As I was hoisting my person back onto the bridge, Josh and I had a good guffaw.
We continued peddling until we reached Loon Lake, a name which I found pleasing, almost as pleasing, in fact, as the lake itself. Though, stunning would be a more appropriate description. Once lakeside, we relaxed and consumed some carbohydrates. I removed my socks and shoes, though not in that order, and noticed a very prominent dirt line divided my dirt and dust coated legs from my non-dusted and non-dirted feet. I placed said feet into some water, which I found somewhat freezing, and splashed them around.
For the second half of the loop, we took a different route to get back to the car. I have chosen to delete the second half of the ride from my memory. All that I will articulate is that I would not recommend that route to anyone with severe- to worse-than-severe phobias regarding narrow technical trails at the edge of steep rocky cliffs.
By the time that we reached the car, I was very happy to have reached the car. Frankly, I was kind of pooped. Back at the campsite, Josh and I inched our way into the lake for a refreshing wash - - and boy, did it feel great to rid my person of all the mud clumps, dust coating, dried sweat, congealed sunscrean, and smashed bug bodies. For the duration of the evening, I was in a daze of sheer exhaustion.
July 6, 2006
~ 50 Miles from Emmett to New Plymouth ~
Because I am still catching up on my blog writing, I still have a backlog of stories to recount. This one centers around the longest bike ride of my entire life (but, hopefully will not remain such). On Saturday, Josh and I got up early and drove to the town of Emmett, which is not all that far away, but is on the other side of a big overpass which makes it seem like a completely different part of the state. We pulled into the parking lot of an Albertson's grocery mart and utilized their restrooms for our wardrobe changing. From there, we rode our bicycles along a meandering route via empty farming roads. It was pretty early in the day and the ride to New Plymouth was under a pleasant temperature. I felt as though I had so much energy and was just having the greatest time. When we arrived at New Plymouth, we located a market and purchased some food items, which we ate under the shade on the grass of a local religious establishment (apparently, they have no parks in New Plymouth). Having refueled, we set out for the ride back to Emmett. It had become early afternoon and the temperature was begining its ascent into the 90's. The ride back seemed to me much longer in duration than the first part. We basically rode a loop around the Emmett Valley. The second part of the loop, rather than going through farm lands and cattle pastures, took us through cherry orchards, which I found much more aesthetically appealing. It also had a lot more "rollercoaster" sorts of roads which, instead of being long and flat or steady mild inclines, went perpendicular to the rolling hills. I found it great fun. There was an unfortunate incident which we aren't talking about in which we were confronted by an angry dog. But since we aren't talking about it because we have agreed to disagree, I shan't say any more. By the time that we were riding into the Albertson's parking lot, I felt that my body could have ridden many more miles, but my butt was kinda tired of sitting on a bicycle seat. Plus, it was really mutherfucking hot out and my front tire had gotten some kind of flat. Here are a few photos of the trip. As always, there are more on my flickr thingie which you can access by depressing the link to the right. I would link it directly right here, but there is an issue with me accessing such things as flickr right now so I'll leave it up to your own internet prowess to figure it out for yourselves.
July 5, 2006
~ Idaho City Historic Independence ~
It would be an understatement for me to say that I appreciate holidays. Indeed, having had an insanely busy last week (working overtime and being overwhelmed with my workload), I was elated at having this Tuesday off of work for some national holiday. On Monday, I seized the day by getting up an hour early in the morning and having an entire morning experience before having to go to work. That evening, I bragged about this feat to Josh, while we were sipping beers on my stoop. On Tuesday, the national holiday, I had planned to get up at 6:30 in order to seize the day even though I didn't have to work. When I woke up, I saw that Josh had sent me a text message wanting to go on a mountain bike ride before the temperature hit the predicted 97 degrees. By 7:00, we were riding our bikes up Hulls Gulch. It was a short sweet ride, which we enjoyed in the cool temperature. There were quite a number of other people on the trails as well, hikers and runners, dog walkers. After we returned from our ride, cleaned up and all that, we met for some coffee at Java downtown, and I had some quality time with my laptop computer. Before the noon hour, we prepared to go on our main adventure for the day: to Idaho City for their Historic celebration for Independence Day.
Part of my desire to go to Idaho City hinged on its location to the north at a higher altitude. From my knowledge of its location, I surmised that it wouldn't get quite as hot as Boise (as I said, predicted at 97 degrees). Unfortunately, it was still really really hot in Idaho City. When we arrived, there were bucket loads of people everywhere. It was craziness. We began our adventure by walking up and down the two roads which comprise the non-residential part of the town. We walked into all of the antique stores (specializing in Old West stuff), weaved through the crowd of people, and I snapped a lot of photos. At one point it was real funny (hah!)...Josh was in the process of walking along this boardwalk thingie that had old saddles slung over the railing and a big wooden fish dangling over his head. I decided that it was an opportune moment to take a photo of the little whipper snapper. Snap! After I had taken my photo, this big sweaty man dressed in a cowboy costume wrapped his arm around Josh and seemed to want me to take a photo of Josh with the cowboy. A little weirded out, I brought up my camera and took another photo. Then the cowboy thought it would be great to swap hats with Josh and give to Josh his gun. Snap! Snap! Then the cowboy started asking us where we are from, wondering if we were tourists from some distant land where they don't have real cowboys such as himself. The heat was making me a tad cranky and I was annoyed that he thought we were tourists. I mean, I happen to have this new digital camera which is this great toy for me, but just because I am always taking photos of everything doesn't mean that I'm not from around these parts.
The Idaho City Library was having a book sale and Josh and I purchased a few books. Josh bought a collection of these "Myserties of the Mind" book series that were published in the early 1980s and contain funny photos of "paranormal phenomena". At 2:00 we wandered over to this place where some real cowboys were having a real Old West shootout. We gathered with a lot of other people in the heat (though we found a spot in the shade). There was a stage made to look like some Old West scene, with a jail, bank, and saloon. Before the shootout, one of the cowboys, the one who had posed for a photo with Josh, gave the audience a lecture on gun safety. Then they performed this skit about an Old West miner who had struck gold, a cowboy who stole his gold, and the sherriff who tried to restore the peace. The "plot" of the skit was quite brief and was punctuated by gunshots and a final "shootout" at the end. Not being much of a "gun person" myself, I found it rather alarming and every time that the loud bangs of the guns sounded, I let out a surprised scream (which was embarassing). The elitist in me found the whole display disappointingly amature (to me, it just seemed like three guys who put on some costumes and wanted to have fun shooting for pretend at each other).
After the shootout, we decided that it was high time to get some food. We located this establishment called "Diamond Lil's Pub and Eatery" and consumed some greasy bar food, pepsis, and beers. The establishment was something else, as may be evidenced by the photos just below this paragraph. There were rows of dollar bills (defaced by writing) hanging from the ceiling, framed collections of outdated currency from around the world, photos from someone's travels, politically distasteful decorations (notice the "slick willie" wall hanging behind Josh and I at the table...in fact, there were several displays of anti-Clinton throughout the town), and the bathrooms... When we first arrived, I overheard the bartender direct a small boy to the men's bathroom by saying to "go through the door with the pretty woman". Later, I discovered that the women's bathroom was the one with the shirtless man on the door. Inside, the walls were covered with photos of shirtless men with big packages...apparently the men's bathroom was covered with photos from Maxim. Belch. I was offended by such a blatant tasteless parade of heterosexuality, and not even just heterosexuality, but a very specific breed of macho heterosexuality which does not at all appeal to me. Honestly, why do people like that have to wave their preferences in my face? So, our bar food was mediocre but we had an excellent time. The air conditioning was cool, the suffleboard table was slick, and the beers hit the spot.
Anyhoot, I have uploaded many more photos onto my flickr account, which you can access by depressing your mouse button over the flickr photos on the sidebar to the right.
July 3, 2006
~ Bogus Star Party ~
There are several adventures and projects that I have directed my attention to remember as needing a blog post. I have some catching up to do in the way of my personal reporting. I have been busy lately... Screaming mad busy. Anyhome, I have selected the Bogus Basin Star Party as the first item on my list to recount.
The Star Party, which took place a week ago last Friday at Bogus Basin Mountain Resort, was (as might be inferred from the name) a party to celebrate the stars. There was a variety of astronomical nerds and aficionados, including their star gazing equipment, in attendance. The organizers chose, from all of the music in the world, the soundtrack to the Star Wars films to be the audio experience for the evening. Josh and I drove up to the Lodge in time to enjoy the last bit of a spaghetti feed. We quickly ate our overpriced and rather stale spaghetti and rushed to join a large group of people for a nature hike. The nature hike was annoying. The group of nature hikers had gathered next to some trees and were listening to a lecture on fire safety. Smokey the Bear was on hand to give a thumbs up to good answers to the fire safety questions posed to the attendees. At some point, my glory was stolen as Josh articulated to the group the answer to a fire safety question that I had mumbled so that no one could hear me except for him. Smokey the Bear provided Josh with a thumbs up which should have been mine! Some time later, while the group was still discussing fire safety, I got really bored. Josh and I wandered off a ways and took some photos of the view.
We rejoined the group once it continued the hike. This, however, was short-lived because they stopped again for another dull lecture, on some subject such as the solar power lighting installation at the resort. I suppose that solar power and fire safety are interesting topics, however, the manner in which they were presented in lecture format I found painfully tedious. At the point of our maximum tedium, we quit the group and went on our own hike. It was beautiful. We saw some lovely flowers and plants and stopped to watch the sunset. It was almost dark by the time that we returned to the Lodge. The party section of the Star Party wasn't quite underway, so Josh and I located some beers and drank them over some witty banter. When our beers were done, we made our way to the telescopes and proceeded to examine various objects in the night sky. Unfortunately, the objects were way too far away for the telescopes to pick up very much, so they appeared as not more than a dot. Nevertheless, it was a neat way to spend the evening.
May 22, 2006
~ Silver Creek ~
"You know, I don't go in for that whole "God thing", but there's something to the Great Outdoors and a renewing of the spirit." - - Amy, 2006.
On Friday last, Amy and I loaded into her automobile and "got away from it all". We traveled to a place called Silver Creek, which is near to the small town of Crouch, Idaho, about a two hour drive North of Boise. In between our witty banter focusing on the ridicule of science, we admired some scenery and got in some physical activity.
Here are some photographs that I snapped while seated in Amy's moving automobile.
It took us a small time to locate a camping spot suitable to the both of us. There was some confusion regarding whether we ought to camp at that which appeared to be the idea of spots, except for that it was along the creek and we had seen some signs which notified campers that they were not allowed to camp within 50 feet until June 1st of the creek. Amy and I were uncertain of the distance from our camp to the creek, it might have been 50 feet, but we decided that should a forest ranger question us, that we would deny having seen the sign. Deceit always, you know, being the correct plan of action.
After we arrived at our ideal camping location, Amy set up the tent while I gathered firewood. I do not know what it was like for Amy to set up the tent, but my firewood gathering was quite the adventure. I had to wander deep into the woods which seperated our camping ground from others. I triped and stumpled over ground debris, received whips to the face from low-dangling pine tree branches, got my feet wet in the waters of the flooded stream, all the while loading my arms with a large amount of branches and hauling them back to camp. That evening, we hopped onto our bicycles and went on a small toodle up the forest service road which connected all of the camping lots.
Then we returned to our camp, Amy started the fire, and we sat around drinking wine and making obvious observations about the scientific world around us, until we were so tired that it was time to go to bed.
We stumbled over to the outhouse for one last time and then got all bundly in the tent. Right about the time when I had perfected my bundly sleepingbag arrangement, I had to pee yet again. Fie, wine, fie! So I donned my attractive-and-not-at-all-dorky headlamp and ventured outside. I returned to the tent and slept soundly all through the downpour of the night. At some point around what I hypothesize was 6:00 a.m. or thereabouts, my bladder woke me up. I realized that the torrential downpour had stopped and decided that it was time for me to get up. I put on my clothing and navigated my way out of the tent to find a very foggy and moist morning. I was about fifteen feet away from the tent heading towards the outhouse when the torrential downpour began anew. Luckily, I was wearing my rainproof jacket, but I became very wet during the two minutes that it took me to travel to and from the outhouse and the tent. Despite being wide awake and wanting to seize the day, I returned myself to the tent and snuggled in my sleeping bag adjacent to a sleeping Amy and listened to the rain for several hours. Throughout most of this experience I was worried that we would have to call our camping adventure off.
At some point, I dozed off and had a dream about being the captain of a tugboat off the Baltic Sea. When I woke up, the rain had stopped. Amy and I emerged from the drenched tent and put together a breakfast and some thick french pressed coffee. I spent a good deal of time sitting alongside the creek staring at the water. Then we went on a stroll up another forest service road. It was during this walk when I informed Amy that due to my ability to theorize, I am a theorist. While I was talking about my theory-making, Amy and I became alarmed when we heard loud gunshots near to our persons. Considering that there were signs pretty much everywhere which indicated that the shooting of firearms was not a forest service approved activity in that area at that time of year, it was lame. We then proceeded to have a conversation, before returning to the conversation about how I am a theorist, about how we aren't really "gun people".
