Category Archives: Outside

Return to Tahoe

My first experiences with skiing and with respectable snow were in Lake Tahoe. It is also the place where I had first seen whitewater, though not where I would first navigate it. It had been a few years since I’d visited and Erika had never been. We drove up the Saturday morning of MLK weekend. Camp Richardson’s Historic Hotel in South Lake Tahoe is where we stayed. Erika found a great package deal: $260 for the weekend including breakfasts, a voucher for dinner, and two lift tickets at Sierra (we traded these for beginner’s packages – gear, lessons, and a limited lift ticket).

There was no shortage of snow. It was deep, it blanketed everything. We had Saturday afternoon, all of Sunday, and Monday morning to make the best of it. We spent Sunday at Sierra learning to ski and repeatedly taking the bunny slope. I am always surprised just how quickly you can shoot down a bunny slope if you aren’t careful. Sierra was nice, but it can’t compete with Heavenly where I first tried skiing a few years back. Both make Mountain High look like a slushy skate park. As the day passed, snow began to fall harder. It took us a while to find Erika’s snow-covered Yaris in the parking lot. The ice scraper we’d picked up on a whim the night before came in very handy. We ended the night with a nice meal at an Irish Pub and a soak in the snow-coated hot tub. As steam rose from the tub, it cooled, then fell back on us as water.

Monday morning, we rented snowshoes and hiked down a trail into a wooded area. We knew a storm was on its way and would be a good idea to leave before it hit in full. It began snowing lightly as we headed back to the sport rental shop. We climbed into the car and I drove us towards the mountains. I tried to, that is. The storm was close enough that chains or snow tires were required in the mountains and checkpoints were set up. The traffic leaving Tahoe was barely moving. As we slowly traveled down the main highway towards the checkpoint, the storm grew closer. I had never driven in snow and never used chains. I had read the directions that came with our pair the day before. The time had come to apply that limited knowledge. Putting chains on a vehicle is not difficult if you know what you are doing. Crouched in slush—reaching behind tires on a low-clearance passenger vehicle as snow falls and cars slide past—while learning to attach tire chains is not so easy. It took me a few tries to discover what works and what doesn’t. I was covered in snow, my toes were wet and freezing, and my fingers cold because my gloves were too bulky for precise chain manipulation. The chains were on, it was cold, Erika’s interior was wet with melting snow, and I hoped I’d done it properly. They were about to be tested and there would be little chance to adjust them once we hit the mountain.

I come from the South, the land of swamps, rain, and humidity. Hurricanes, floods, fog—I have a lot of experience driving in such conditions. I was not prepared for the adventure that awaited us on our 6 hour drive to Sacramento (a drive that took less than 2 hours on the way to Tahoe). The sky was white. Visibility varied by dozens of feet—it was like diving except instead of receding into darkness, details faded to white. Snow fell steadily. I crouched like a hunchback as I drove because we could rarely keep the upper portion of the windshield from fogging up. Snow banks flanked us on either side, ice and snow were caked to the streets. Occasionally we would pass a car stuck in a snow bank. We crept along at 20 mile per hour, an icicle grew from the passenger side mirror. The tire chains clanged and I feared they were loosening and would fall off. Brake lights peeking through the white were my guides around the curves of the mountain. It was nerve-wracking and exciting. 

The snowfall stopped, then started again, falling harder. A checkpoint was ahead. It was time to remove the chains. We were on a decline, the snow was falling harder, there was little shoulder. My chains had lasted! Taking them off would be easier than installing had been, right? Yes, it was easier to remove them… a little easier. We struggled with the locking chains on the inside of the wheel well. Snow falling, cars sliding past, ice becoming slush. Finally they were off! Yet, we still had a few miles to go downhill in snow on icy roads. Why in the hell was I required to take them off now? I drove on. Eventually, the snow was replaced by rain. Hours later we made it home. We had a great weekend and we experienced our first snowstorm. I wouldn’t trade any minute of it.

More Photos Here

Looking Forward to the Season

If you aren’t a podcast subscriber yet, you are missing out on a vast world of entertainment and information. I subscribe to various podcasts, both video and audio, on a variety of subjects: DIY filmmaking, backpacking, creative advertising, comic books, independent filmmakers, software tutorials, vfx discussions, philosophy, conservation, gear, grammar, and much more. Some are great, some are so-so, but all keep me informed and educated. Often they lead me to other podcasts and various useful resources. Sometimes, it is difficult to keep up with them all.

For the last year, I have been listening to an audio podcast called The Dirtbag Diaries by Fitz Cahall. He takes real people’s stories of outdoor adventure, life-altering events, introspective moments and shares them with the audience. These are stories that will make you run the gamut of emotions and ultimately want to do something with your life. These stories will make you want to live. The podcast is well produced and always features great music (usually from bands I’d never heard previously).

I was pleased to see the latest entry a few days ago. Entitled "Happy New Year! This is what I’ve been working on," it is a two-minute video preview for a new podcast called The Season. Fitz has managed to do what I have been trying to figure out for months now, combine the outdoors and documentary into something visually and emotionally compelling. Below is the synopsis from their website:

From the creators of The Dirtbag Diaries and 49 Megawatts comes a new web television project following five athletes through the course of a single season in the Pacific Northwest. A veteran climber invents a new piece of gear. A pro snowboarder searches for a way to return to the roots of his sport. A boulderer returns from a series of injuries with new perspective. A family man goes to Whistler to test himself against mountain biking’s elite. A young sea kayaker with a troubled past sets out to reinvent his sport.

The video in the preview is beautiful and inspiring. I am greatly looking forward to this series. If you are interested in outdoor sports, you’d be doing yourself a disservice not to take a look.

2009 Catch-up Part 5 (of 5): Surprise Canyon

2010 starts tomorrow and I haven’t finished posting about 2009. The last few months have been a blur of activity and compositing so Live Journal updates have suffered. Fear not, my three readers, a flurry of updates has arrived!

After finishing the Zion Narrows, I knew I wanted to do another exciting backpacking trip over the Thanksgiving holidays. The tricky part would be finding a good hike that was passable in late fall, a bit strenuous, and not especially far from Los Angeles. I searched online and through a backpacking book and settled on Surprise Canyon. Surprise Canyon is in the middle of nowhere. If you find yourself nowhere, keep driving, you aren’t there yet. Technically, it is in Inyo County on the Western outer-rim of Death Valley National Park. It is in the desert, long past a town called Trona—a place we drove through twice, yet never saw a single person, only smoke pouring from the Salt Plant into the Sulphur-soaked air. Deep into the desert are the remains of a town called Ballarat. All that remains here is an abandoned jail-house and a somewhat functioning “general store” manned by the sole inhabitant of Ballarat. And lots of RVs and ATVs. Be careful in Surprise Canyon, help is hours away.

Surprise Canyon is aptly named. After driving deep into a dry, dusty desert and two miles up a tricky gravel path—leading into the mountains and ending at a burnt-down shack—you never expect to see a lush canyon full of running water. This is the beauty of Surprise Canyon—a hike up a flowing river that takes you to Panamint City, an abandoned mining town.

Panamint City doesn’t come easily. It must be earned. The hike up the canyon is short, only 5-6 miles, but it is a strenuous hike for all except the seasoned hiker. The first portion involves non-technical canyoneering as you climb beautiful waterfalls and verdant rocks. Shortly afterwards, the bushwhacking begins. This canyon is predominantly on BLM land meaning it doesn’t receive the attention a National Park does. The canyon is highly overgrown. Brush which allegedly was cleared a few years ago is now far above a human’s height. We traveled upstream and forced our way through the foliage as the slope increased. Once the bushwhacking portion ends, the climb begins. The slope increases greatly and the stream disappears. Panamint City rests 6300 feet above sea level. Much of the 4000 foot climb takes place over these last two miles. It is a tough climb if your legs are not trained or ready for it—especially when you are carrying 30-40 lbs. on your back. November is a month of limited light. Canyon walls are high. By 5:00 P.M., it was growing dark rapidly and we still had not seen the enormous smokestack marking the city. We set up camp and prepared for a cold night.

The Story Continues + Plenty More Pictures

2009 Catch-up Part 4 (of 5): Black Canyon

2010 starts tomorrow and I haven’t finished posting about 2009. The last few months have been a blur of activity and compositing so Live Journal updates have suffered. Fear not, my three readers, a flurry of updates has arrived!

Karl, of Extreme Things, has many connections in the outdoor community and because of this is able to put together events that are fun and inexpensive. In late November, a group of us headed into Nevada to canoe a stretch of river beneath the Hoover Dam called Black Canyon. We were led downstream by an older man named Terry who was in superior shape to anyone in our group. We camped in the canyon and made several side quests: Sauna Cave, waterfalls, natural hot springs, lots of non-technical canyoneering, and hiking. We even time-traveled. One side of the canyon placed us in Nevada and the Pacific Time Zone. The other bank placed us in Arizona and the Mountain Time Zone. The Sunset over the Canyon was among the most beautiful I’ve seen.

Lots More Canoeing Goodness

2009 Catch-up Part 3 (of 5): Bungee Jumping

2010 starts tomorrow and I haven’t finished posting about 2009. The last few months have been a blur of activity and compositing so Live Journal updates have suffered. Fear not, my three readers, a flurry of updates has arrived!

Karl of Extreme Things has been trying to get us all to jump off a bridge for months now. He had arranged a bungee jumping event on two separate occasions that were each canceled because of circumstances beyond any of our control such as a huge wildfire in the Angeles National Forest. Thankfully, the third attempt was successful and a few of us were able to bungee jump off the Bridge to Nowhere. I’ve made this hike a few times prior and I always enjoy it. It includes my favorite aspects of hiking: stream crossing and rock scrambling. This time, although, I was able to jump off the bridge with the help of Bungee America.

I flew three times and each experience was different (See a list of jump styles here). First, I tried the front swan dive. It was fun, but not especially frightening or jarring. The backward plunge, on the other hand was quite exciting. Not being able to see where you are falling or anticipate when you will stop is quite a rush. Lastly, I tried the Elevator Drop. I have never felt so aware of acceleration before. Streamlining your body and leaping straight down is a frightening, but fun experience. Karl said my eyes were huge.

At the moment I have no photos of my own jump, but Karl and Trails promise to send me pictures and video in the future.

2 More Photos

In the Words of Teddy

Said in reference to the Grand Canyon, but an apt blanket statement for wilderness in general:

In the Grand Canyon, Arizona has a natural wonder which is in kind absolutely unparalleled throughout the rest of the world. I want to ask you to keep this great wonder of nature as it now is. I hope you will not have a building of any kind, not a summer cottage, a hotel or anything else, to mar the wonderful grandeur, the sublimity, the great loneliness and beauty of the canyon. Leave it as it is. You cannot improve on it. The ages have been at work on it, and man can only mar it.

-Theodore Roosevelt

Hiking the Narrows

Occasionally, I look through travel books or magazines searching for ideas. There are often photos of beautiful locales and listings for resorts, expensive hotels, eateries, and other aspects of luxury travel. I can’t generally afford luxury travel and I am not a big fan of pretending to be a member of the bourgeoisie with servants dancing around me. Earlier in the year, I stumbled across two books catering specifically to adventure travel—trips where you learn about yourself and get dirty. Thanks to The Rough Guide to Ultimate Adventures I was informed of something I never suspected—there are many reasons to visit Utah.

Slot Canyons, deep and narrow gorges, abound in Utah. They are spectacular. My Rough Guide highlighted one in particular—The Zion Narrows in Zion National Park. The itinerary: hike 16 miles (mostly in a shallow river) through the Zion backcountry within the confines of a slot canyon over the course of 2 days. The particulars: The Narrows were formed by the Virgin River. Over the 16 miles we’d be walking through it, its depth would range from ankle deep to waist deep with the occasional hole requiring swimming. Water flow would vary from mostly stagnant to somewhat powerful swiftwater. When not in the water, the hike includes a lot of rock hopping and scrambling. The walls of the canyon often rise over a thousand feet on either side. Nearby rain can cause flash floods (a few occur each year) so the weather must be monitored preceding and during the hike. Once inside the canyon, you must commit. Hiking is your only feasible way out as rescue is relatively difficult and time-consuming. I love climbing and scrambling. I love water (especially moving water). When water and climbing are combined, I am truly happy. From the moment I read about the Narrows in the Rough Guide, I knew I had to go.

Zion is a 7-10 hour drive from L.A. greatly dependent on traffic running through Las Vegas. Erika and I did a number of things this year, but visiting Zion had not fit into any of our plans conveniently. As fall approached, it became clear that our chances to hike the Narrows were dwindling. The waters would grow colder and dry suits (not just wet suits) would be required. Erika is not made for the cold. Labor Day weekend was our last hope. I logged onto the National Park Service website a month prior. Only 40 people are allowed through the Narrows each day as overnight hikers. Luckily I was able to reserve the last four spots for Sunday, Sept. 6 at Camp 2. Thankfully, our posse was only four people: Erika, Al-Insan, Steven, and me. Now, we just needed to wait for the weeks to pass.

The Adventure Begins Here + More Photos

Crystal Cove

Saturday, Erika and I tried to go snorkeling in Crystal Cove. The waters have been rough lately and this still seems to be the case. The undertow was extremely strong and the breaks were equally powerful. We thought it unwise to swim out to try to snorkel. Instead we played in the shallows and explored the beaches and coves. It’s a beautiful place.

More Photos

Perseids

In the late 80s, as a child, I had a subscription to a children’s science magazine called Odyssey. I would read it cover-to-cover and especially enjoyed the astronomy articles. One issue referenced a coming meteor shower and gave times for viewing it. I eagerly awaited the coming of the meteors. I awoke early on the proper Saturday, somewhere around 3:30 or 4:00 A.M. I made my way into the dew-covered backyard and laid out a lawn chair. For a long while I laid there staring into the dark morning sky waiting for the stars to fall. I was alone in the dark yard surrounded by the sounds of the night creatures—the frogs, the crickets, the various noises from the nearby woods. I watched and waited. No star ever fell. Later I would discover the times listed in my magazine were intended for a different time-zone. Over 20 years later, and I had still never seen a meteor shower. Sure, I’d seen numerous falling and shooting stars—small white flashes jetting across the sky—but never the main event.

Last Wednesday night, Erika and I drove up into the Angeles Crest mountains to watch the Perseids. The real flurry of meteors was alleged to show in the wee hours of the morning, but flashy precursors were supposed to appear as early as 11:00 P.M. (proper time-zone this time). We laid atop my car and then upon the ground watching the sky and often shielding our eyes from frequent passing headlights (the excitement of the coming shower had made the highway through the mountains oddly popular) for nearly an hour. We saw over a dozen. They were spectacular—large varicolored spears of light shot across the sky every few minutes. Occasionally one would appear suddenly off to one side illuminating my peripheral vision. Some would be gone in an instant, others would trail through the sky for a few seconds fading slowly into the night. My disappointment as a child was rectified.

We also saw an adorable fox run past into the overgrowth.

Certifiable

As of the afternoon of Saturday, August 15th, Erika and I are PADI certified Open Water divers. Essentially that means we can go dive anywhere that doesn’t require specialty diving skills or depths below 60 feet. Learning to SCUBA dive has also made me feel more comfortable snorkeling and wearing masks that encase my nose. Years of sinus problems have made me especially touchy whenever I feel my breathing is hampered. Forcing myself to learn to dive has alleviated much of that.

Our three certification dives took place in the waters near Catalina Island—specifically Lulu’s Reef and Big Giger. Our first dive was the most interesting. There were only four of us and we dove through a labyrinthine kelp forest descending down to 49 feet. As we made our way down the anchor line, the kelp parted like a doorway letting us into an undersea world. Between the three dives we spent an hour underwater, mostly demonstrating skills necessary to receive our certification. It was fun, but I really look forward to a day when we can spend all of our time underwater exploring.

During the trip back to shore, our boat was often flanked by pods of dolphins racing alongside. Over a dozen dolphins would swim just beneath the bow, then leap into the air and shoot ahead into the ocean. There were times they would breach and be merely several feet from my awestruck face.

More Undersea Photos Here