Hot Hot Hot!

Boy is it HOT outside! After awakening from my nap, I headed into town to get medication for the fungus between my toes (happens every summer with my feet confined to swampy boots and wool socks) and was shocked by how much the temperature changed from this morning. Apparently it is only 101 degrees out, but that's just plain ugly when there is no AC in your house or vehicle. This is not a time to be out of doors. In my house it is a nice, cool 80 degrees. Funny how that becomes such a relief after pulling myself out of the pool of sweat that had puddled in the driver's seat from my one errand into town.

This morning I went for a bike ride with my friend, Jen. It was nice and cool, not really any warmer than mid-80's by the time we returned.

 

The nice thing about being on a bike is that you get a bit of a wind chill. When we stopped for a small break in the neighboring town of Gazelle, the lack of wind reminded me of how hot it really was and how hot it was going to get.

 

 

We rode from my house in Montague to the town of Gazelle. I've got visions of living the sort of life where I bike large distances to have a cup of really great coffee at a small town café. Having never been to Gazelle, I had that sort of vision for today's trip. I should've just asked Jen who's been there a time or two. No coffee shop, no cute little pancake place. It had a post office, an auto repair shop and a very small elementary school. All of which were closed since today is Sunday. Anyway, Gazelle is 15 miles away and it was a beautiful ride.

 

 

About halfway between Montague and Gazelle is the small town of Grenada. It has a gas station, post office, general store, auto repair shop and an alpaca farm. There's actually quite the alpaca population up here. These guys must've just gotten shaved. Just in time for this awful heat wave we're having.

 

 

In case you've never seen an alpaca before, these guys are usually quite fluffy all over. They are now shaved with the exception of a bushy head and tail. As I was snapping away at these guys I was trying to figure out what they reminded me of. Some 60's or 70's disco star or something.

 

 

Thirty miles later we pulled up into my driveway and off-loaded our sore butts from our saddles. Jen is more sore than I am being as she has yet to purchase padded bike shorts. We went inside and broke open a small seedless watermelon that I had chilling in the fridge. I gave half to Jen and half to myself. We plopped down on the couch to recover.

 

After she went home, I got on Facebook to post photos. Looking at the photos of Jen and I, I was irritated about how obvious the chin strap on my helmet was and how dorky I look in the helmet. While posting the picture of the alpacas, I realized what they reminded me of. Me in a helmet.

 

I've been wanting to do a triathlon for awhile now and there's one coming up here in September, not that I'll be able to go being as it's fire season. But in the off-chance that I am not on a fire and able to go, I'd like to be prepared for it. Jen wants to do it too. I've been reading up on this creature we call the Triathlon and have come up with all sorts of ideas and issues.

 

Clothing is one such issue. I just don't know about wearing those one piece things (you have to be able to run, swim and bike in whatever you choose to wear) but I also wasn't too sure about swimming in a "tankini" and shorts. The shorts should be a little padded for the bike stretch but not so padded that it's irritating in the run and the swim. The other option is a total 2-piece. Sports-bra type swim top and a pair of padded bottoms (specially made for triathlons). I would be comfortable swimming and running in that, but I don't know about being hunched over a bike with my belly showing. We all know what happens to our bellies when we hunch over. I know, I know. But don't tell me you all wouldn't be phased if it were you.

 

Hair style. That's another predicament. The low braid I wear for cycling is not at all what I'd appreciate on the run. This is irritating. I like my ponytail much higher up on the run but that won't work with a helmet.

 

Then there's food replenishment. I'm used to long bouts of exercise and have no issue with consuming packets of gelled sugar throughout a race. I was just reading one of the triathlon books my friend from the gym loaned me and I came across a sentence I had to read 4 times before I understood it. "You can also mold unwrapped energy bars to the top tube of your bike."

 

What? I had to break it down, like a foreign language. Unwrapped. Like no wrapper attached? Why on earth would you...hmmm. I got a vision in my head of my swimming days and the old style power bars. Banana or peanut butter specifically (why? couldn't tell ya). Back in the day, it was pretty much all I could eat at swim meets without upsetting my nervous stomach. They were those thin little things that don't look (or taste) much like food. When it was cold out, trying to eat those darn things hurt my jaw, they were far too chewy. But I could place them (still wrapped in their original packaging) in my armpit to soften them up.

 

Bingo. Warm floppy power bar draped over the top tube of my bike. Unwrapped. I wonder how warm it has to be to make that happen. I flinched at the thought. I don't know if a power bar is comparable to raw eggs when it comes to putting it on an expensive paint job. I wondered how that would affect my brand new gorgeous bike. Don't worry Ruby, I thought. I would never do that to you.

 

Then I thought about the utility of it. Think about it. You're tired from your swim, you're riding along on your bike thinking about how bad the run is going to feel. You're hungry. In front of you, draped over the top tube of your bike is a choice of chocolate or peanut butter power bars, unwrapped and molded to the tube. You just peel it off like a fruit roll up and start munching away. Genius! I like this idea.

 

Question: Being as the bike is second, and it sits at the transition spot while you swim, how do you keep critters away from your power bars while you're away? Ants, squirrels, deer, whatever. Flies. I don't know. Critters.

 

Hmm...food stuffs draped across the top tube. I don't know about that. It seems like a lot more fun than sticking packets of gel in my sports bra and pinning them to my shorts with a safety pin, but also not quite as clean. I definitely see the benefit of having solid food during the bike portion.

 

I will have to stew on this some more. I'll let you know what I come up with.





It Takes a Little Time

I was in the grocery store today perusing the coffee aisle and Amy Grant's "Takes a Little Time" came on.

It takes a little time sometimes
to get your feet back on the ground.
It takes a little time sometimes
to get the titanic turned back around.
It takes a little time sometimes
but baby you're not going down
it takes more than you've got right now.
Give it time.

The song was still in my head as I pushed my cart to my vehicle. How fitting, I thought. I should text that to Candace. "It takes a little time sometimes to get the titanic turned back around." Just a little note to let her know that I believe in me almost as much as she believes in me. Yeah, 'cause the Titanic is like a wreck, but time can turn even that around...no, wait, that's not right. The Titanic sunk. It didn't get turned around in time. It was one of the most famous disasters in history. Most of the people on that boat died.

Huh. So what you're saying is, it takes some time to get a ship of great mass to change course and avoid disaster...more time that you have, and the consequence of failure is tragedy. The Titanic didn't have time. Isn't that the point? Sometimes it takes time...even when you don't have it. Interesting.

That song is darkly ironic and hopefully not a fitting tribute to the change of course going on in my life. How dismal.

Mine and Ruby's First Adventure Together

Meet Ruby.

Ruby is a Specialized Ruby Elite Apex Women's bike. All carbon frame, internally routed cables, double tap shifters, sweet brakes, super light, super smooth, with Zertz vibration dampers embedded in the fork and frame. Ruby is a $2500 bike that I scored for $1500 because it had been test ridden and has a small scratch near the seat post (I've been unable to locate that scratch). Ruby is made to go the distance. Ruby is a champ.

Today was my first ride on her other than down the cul-de-sac at the bike shop to learn how to use the new shifters. We went 36 miles round trip, over several miles of gravel road and one long uphill dirt road in which I learned a thing or two about road bikes and off-road terrain. I also need to work on mounting accesories. Because Ruby is a distance mare, I need two water bottles and a tire pump. Well there's two mounts. So I settled on one water bottle and tire pump and figured I'd fill up at the Lavender Farm (my destination) before the return trip home.

The minute I took off down the road, I knew Ruby was special. The ride felt totally different than my old bike. Smoother, more solid maybe. I covered the miles out to Little Shasta in no time, stopping to take pictures along the way.

I sped by a cool looking tractor with Mt. Shasta in the background. It would make an awesome picture. Too late, I was beyond it and indecisive. I'll get a picture of it on the way back.

Next up was the Little Shasta church.

And then the Little Shasta Cemetery just up the road a ways.

I watched the gathering clouds with a bit of trepidation. The weather report said 0% chance of rain, even though we had a decent storm blow through yesterday. So far the clouds were staying in the mountains and out of the Shasta Valley where I rode. Mt. Shasta was visible the entire route to the Mt. Shasta Lavender Farm.

Not long after snapping a picture of this horse, the road turned to gravel. I happen to know that Harry Cash Rd is paved out by the highway, so the gravel can't continue very long. It's been a couple years since I've driven this road, and then it was all paved. Apparently they're re-doing it. Well, I've said it before, but if they can do it in the Tour De France, I can do it in Montague (or Little Shasta as it were). The gravel continued for a couple miles before dumping me out back paved road. Whew!

After several more miles I was getting a little ansy to find the lavender farm, and I had to pee. I must not have been paying attention, because I was shocked to suddenly realize that the fence alongside the road had boots and shoes on all the fence posts.

What on earth is that all about?

Finally I came to the Lavender Farm sign, and it turned onto a dirt road. That went uphill. A fairly steep uphill. Well, here goes.

I started up the hill and quickly ran out of low gears. I tried to stand up, but as it happens, taking a road bike on a dirt road calls for a little extra attention to detail. Lesson number one: you must keep your butt on the seat in order to put pressure on the rear tire. If you don't, the smooth tire will just slip right against the dirt road. And you will go nowhere. I looked down at my chain rings and realized the front gear was still fairly high. Huh. Who knew I was in the high gear up front? I down shifted and gained some speed up the hill. My lungs were starting to burn and I was moving fairly slowly. I decided to take a break.

I dismounted and stood on the side of the road and took a drink of water. I walked my bike a little ways, but walking a dirt road in bike cleats is not that easy. It doesn't help that it was uphill. I decided to get back on and toughen up. The parking lot couldn't be that far away.

Lesson number two: re-mounting a road bike while going uphill on a dirt road wearing a pair of road cleats is extremely difficult. Let me see if I can paint a picture. I have cleated shoes that clip in to my pedals (they're called clipless, I know, it's a little ridiculous). The thing is, my pedal is required to be in the exact right position and my cleat needs to find the right spot on the pedal to clip in. It is very difficult to pedal without getting clipped in, as the bottom of the shoes are slick and so are the pedals. So the idea is this: you get one foot clipped in completely and push off, pedaling with that one foot while you attempt to connect the other foot. This is where the uphill dirt road schooled me.

I clipped my right leg in, pushed off and attempted to get my left foot in (going uphill) while trying to pedal with only my right foot. I had to create so much force on the upswing that my right calf cramped severely. I stopped and hopped off, stretching my calf. I tried a few more times, almost got it and helplessly careened off the road. I walked a ways until the ground looked flatter. Nope. I walked some more. Finally I came to a flat spot, managed to mount back up and pedaled around the corner until I coasted into the parking lot.

I think my left cleat is wearing out because it didn't want to come out of the pedal. I'll replace them and see if it helps.

Exhausted, I walked my bike to a solid wall to lean it against and went in to use the restroom. I grabbed a lavender lemonade and set out into the lavender fields to snap some photos.

The Mt. Shasta Lavender Farm is only open about one month out of the year. You can have special events there. It's free to show up and you can cut your own lavender bunches for about $5 per bunch. You're greeted in a Tuscan style building where there's a gift shop and they give you a free glass of lavender lemonade. It's absolutely stunning.

After getting a bunch of pictures, I decided to head to the bathroom to fill up my water bottle and take one last bathroom break before hitting the road. I really should've asked if the water in the bathroom sink was potable. Usually though, if it isn't, there's a sign that says not to drink it. I remembered from their website that they're on a well. Well water is usually fairly safe, just not always tasty. I was kind of embarrassed to ask, thinking if I asked if their water was safe to drink, they might take offense to it. It is a fairly fancy place. Anyway, if it wasn't potable, it would be labeled right?

I took off on my way back home (by the way, it's 18 miles each way) and got lesson number three. It's just as difficult down a dirt road on a road bike as it is uphill. Why? Because of the lack of traction and control, you have to take it easy. And it was steep. I marveled at how fast I made it up the hill being as it was going to take me twice as long to get down. My forearms and shoulders ached from clutching the brakes. Brand new bike and I was gonna need a new set of brake pads.

I finally made it back on pavement and turned towards home. After a little ways, my right calf squeezed a bit, trying to cramp. Better drink some water. I pulled my water bottle off the frame and took a swig. Whoa! It had quite a bit of zing to it...followed by a bitter aftertaste. What on earth? Then I remembered the website saying something about their well water being naturally carbonated. I wondered if it was safe to drink. Damnit. There was no way I was going back and I was out in the middle of nowhere. Better not drink it....unless you really have to.

The clouds started to gather and the wind picked up. 0% chance of rain, you'll be ok. My calf squeezed again and I pressed my heel down to keep it stretched. My shoulders, back and butt started to ache. I still had a couple miles of gravel road to contend with. I could've gone another way but then I wouldn't be able to take a picture of the cool tractor.

I hit the gravel road and focused ahead. Pick your line and stick with it. When the gravel got deep, I sat back and tightened my abs. At one point the gravel was so bad that I almost lost control of the bike. I moved over into the oncoming lane to find a firmer path. Up ahead the gravel road ended and hit pavement but it was right around a curve. I hoped I wouldn't meet a car coming the other way. The gravel on the right side of the road was awful. I popped up on to the pavement and moved over quickly. Just after I got in my lane, an SUV came around the corner. Yeesh.

I relaxed a little and tried to shake out my shoulders. My calf squeezed again and I gave in and drank more water, gulping quickly so I wouldn't have to taste it. I passed the cemetery and the church and almost missed my tractor. I pulled over and was disappointed. It looked a lot cooler as I flew by it earlier. It's still kinda cool.

I hit the road that signaled that I had 5 miles left until home. The clouds were taking over the sky and I could see rain in the mountains to the northwest of me. 0% chance of rain, huh? I pedaled faster. 3 miles to go. I stood up to rest my butt a little and tried to stretch my back. It was no good. This was by far the longest bike ride I've ever done and it was starting to wear on me.

I hit the Wildlife Reserve. 1.5 miles left to go. I took another swig of my carbonated well water and stood up again. I speed down the hill into town, convering my brakes with my fingers. The rain clouds tracked north of me. I would make it.

I pulled up in front of my house and struggled to get my foot out of the pedal. I'd have to do something about that. I dismounted and clacked up the driveway in my cleats. Whew! Home! Food! Water! And of course a Mt. Shasta dark chocolate bar. I jumped in the jacuzzi to ease my stiffening muscles and then hopped in the shower.

The 0% chance of rain? It's now sprinkling on and off. But I'm safe inside.

Awesome Day of Fishing!

I got home from a Southern California fire assignment yesterday afternoon, picked up my new bike from the bike shop and headed out to Iron Gate Reservoir to do some fishing. I hadn't had time to pick up worms so I tried a few lures before being chased out by a storm.

After watching the storm roll in for awhile, I decided to call it a day and headed back up the hill to my vehicle.

On the drive home, I pulled over at the dam and tried to take pictures of an eagle's nest high up on a power pole. Didn't turn out to be much. I planned on riding my bike to the Mt. Shasta Lavender Farm the next day if the weather cooperated. If not, I could always grab a rain jacket and some worms and try my luck at fishing again.

This morning was chock full of errands I had to run. Went grocery shopping, got my tires rotated and balanced (what I really need is to buy a couple new ones) and got my eyebrows waxed. The girl who was tasked with removing my errant eyebrows from the areas of my face where they don't belong, said "You're going fishing in this weather?!" I could hear it pouring outside. "Maybe it'll stop."

Anyway, fishing is supposed to be more fruitfull when it's raining, right? When I left yesterday, I spotted a litle rock outcropping that looked like the perfect fishing spot. The water should drop of sharp right there, giving the fish their much needed "structure". Plus the rock there was low enough that I needn't figure out how to get the fish out of the water should I actually land one.

I grabbed my worms, pole, tackle box, cooler and fish identifying book (apparently in order to stay legal with my fishing, I actually have to be able to tell them apart instead of just saying "big fish" or "little fish") and drove out to Iron Gate. There were plenty of people at each little cove and I worried some one had taken my spot. After all, it was after noon. The plus side of my little spot is that the road down to it is now closed, so you have to park up top and take a little hike down. I think fishermen are generally lazy, because I've never seen anyone else at this spot.

I parked the jeep on the side of the road, gathered all my gear (this time being smart enough to grab my little net) and set off down the hill. I found a comfortable rock, set all my stuff down, and cast my line in with the last lure I used yesterday. After a couple tries, I decided to switch to worms. It rained on and off. I dropped my worm directly below me where I could see the rock drop off...and instantly landed a fish. A 4 inch bass. What's iritating about these little guys is that they swallow the hook whole. My pliers are not needle nosed enough to do delicate surgery. Poor things.

I pulled in a few more small bass, and one larger, just short of the 12 inch minimum. Getting tired of struggling to pull the hooks from the throats of tiny fish, I switched to a larger hook. I got several good size fish on the line but they kept slipping off. Frustrated, I reeled it back in and realized I had put a barbless hook on the line (required for fishing in the Klamath River). I switched it out for a larger barbed hook. Everybody ate my worm and no one landed ashore. I siwtched back to the original hook.

The wind and rain came and went some more. I was getting frustrated with the little fish. How was a big fish to grab this thing if I keep reeling in all these little guys? I replaced the worm and chose the next drop spot. Just below me looked like a nice deep spot. I let my worm sink far, then set the reel.

Bam! Fish on! This one felt big! It ran under the rock and into the weeds...no good! I had to drag him to the other side while climbing down from my perch so I could get him into the shallows to net him. I let him drag awhile then coaxed him over. He flashed about and darted around. I pulled him in and swept the net under him. Whooo! He was big! I grabbed my ruler (that also has a handy knot tying guide on it) and laid it next to him on the rock. It started to rain again as I realized this guy was a definate keeper. Close to 16 inches!

So here's an interesting concept about fishing. When you catch a keeper, you have to kill it. Yes, I suppose you could just let it suffocate. It will eventually die when left out of the water. You could also cut off it's head. I've never actually killed a fish on my own until today. I never killed one as a kid. That was my dad's job. And I don't really remember how he did it. A few years ago, I was talked through killing one while on a fire in New Mexico. I picked the little guy up and slammed his head against a rock. Twice.

This guy here was a little big to do that, but that's ok. I had a plan. I bought a little fish club just for this purpose. It looks like a small billy club. The idea (I guess) is that you hold the guy still and clobber him on the head... hard enough to kill him. Quick and painless. Ha. That's only if you do it right.

I took my little towel and grabbed him good and solid-like. Head pointing up. I took aim and swung, fairly hard I thought. Ugh. It definately stunned him (and me) but he didn't seem very dead. I hit him again. He slipped in my hand and the third strike landed on the side of the head. Hmmm. Looks dead. Now to gut him.

I got out my fillet knife and set the fish on the rock. His gills moved shallowly. Really? What the hell? Is he for real? I'm thinking he was at least unconcious...at least that's what I'd like to believe. Well, if all else fails, cut the head off. Bah! Eww! It went fairly squemishly, and the spine resisted all attempts of me trying to cut it. I was fairly certain this fish was alive and suffering until I was able to sever the spine. After attempting a few times, I finally stuck my pliers in there and snapped it. I finished cutting the head off and realized I did a crappy job and also had removed a good portion of the body. Yeesh. At least it was finally dead.

I slit open his belly and pulled out the organs and slipped him into a plastic bag. It started raining harder. My adrenaline was going pretty good from my thwarted efforts to bludgeon to death a fish and I was feeling a bit of guilt from my first kill. I decided to call it a day.

Hmm...I thought about it. The big ones are just starting to bite! The wind was worse and more chilly and the rain fell harder. I packed up my stuff. There's more big fish waiting under that rock!

Ahh, ok, one more attempt.

I threaded a new worm on the hook and dropped it down by the rock.

Fish on!! Holy moley another big one!! Again, I coaxed it towards the shallows, landed him in my net and measured.

Another keeper, this one around 14 inches. I vowed to do better at putting this one out of his misery. I took careful aim and snapped the club down into his head. His fin seemed to straighten up and twitch but I couldn't tell if it was the wind or not. I slit him up the belly and removed his innards...including a partially digested fish. Geez, this is gruesome. I put him in the bag with the headless fish and put them in the cooler. I packed up my stuff and headed up the hill.

As I drove home I started thinking about how I was going to fillet the fish. It would be easiest to google how to do it. Sure enough, there were plenty of youtube videos on how to fillet a bass. I watched it a couple times and then went to work. The headless one was sloppy and I ended up more with chunks instead of fillets. I got to work on the second one.

A little better cut, but I still left some flesh. The other side went much better.

Ready to fry.

In the pan with some coconut oil and "Joe's Dirt" seasoning.

Lunch.