Missives from Kev

20 miler with the Scouts

2011-06-05T22:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a good day... if you're a masochist!

After a couple of months of working on the Hiking merit badge with Etho, 30 intrepid souls marched out along the Mule Hill Trail in Rancho Bernardo through San Pasqual Valley up to Raptor Ridge. This was the first 10-mile leg of the crowning point of the merit badge. Really pretty walking through the strawberry fields and finally into the coastal desert foothills up to the Ridge.

After a quick lunch and a Nestle's Crunch Bar from the nearby Chevron station, we set out on the second leg around the South side of Lake Hodges. Highlights included walking over the new pedestrian bridge that spans the lake and a sparsely flowing waterfall, but more significantly seeing the memorial to Chelsea King who was murdered last year on the shores of the lake by a madman.

All in all, the boys and men held up well over the course of a long day. As I write this I remain a little achy despite the beer and Ibuprofen (!), but Ethan's none the worse for the wear. We'll finish up the book work for the merit badge next weekend at the upcoming Flag Ceremony on June 12, 2011. I couldn't be more proud of my son - a strong and cool young man.


Hiking through San Pasqual Valley

Strawberry Farmer

Heading up Raptor Ridge

Obligatory picture of Dads taking pictures

Gnarly!

Hikemaster Dave (AKA Merit Badge Counselor)

Hiking up from the Waterfall

Dads on the move!

Desolate location on the trail

Surprising amount of growth (foliage AND boys)

Tres Amigos

Behold — Lizard Man! (mile 17)

Asst. Scoutmaster M. Powers

Taking a short break before the final push

Memorial Day 2011 with the Boy Scouts

2011-05-28T23:12:00.000-07:00

This morning a posse of Boy Scouts from Troop 648 went on their annual mission to honor our country's service men and women who have lost their lives defending America.

Honoring their memories by planting flags at the graves of our veterans around the country is a time-honored tradition of the Scouts and of our Troop. Ethan and I have done it nearly every year since he was a Tiger in the Cub Scouts (1st grade).

Here are some photos from the experience today.

I thought this was a cool shot - Ryan Forbes

Tour de Murrieta MotoPhoto

2011-03-21T21:59:00.000-07:00

Bicycle racing has never been high on my list of spectator sports, for a variety of reasons. Chief among them was that it seemed you stand in one place to watch a group of riders blast by one time and everything's done. How spectator-friendly could that be?

Friends Rod and Alex are going to beat me when they read this. I'm grossly oversimplifying, I know. At the same time, they'll heartily acknowledge what I'm about to tell you is absolutely true: the ONLY place to watch a bike race is ON THE RACETRACK!

Fortunately Rod gave me that opportunity recently without all the pain, training, and expense of taking up the über-sport of cycling. He was in charge of volunteers at the recent Tour de Murrieta and thus was privvy to some inside knowledge of the race preparation.

One of the pro photographers that was covering the race had asked if they knew anyone with a motorcycle willing to ride with a passenger on back shooting pics. Sounded fun to me and after determining the guy wasn't a 300lb sloth, I was ALL IN.

The ride up from Rancho Peñasquitos on Sunday morning was quite chilly and I was in a pea-soup fog until past Fallbrook. Since I arrived about an hour before I was to hook up with the photographer, coffee was on my mind and the donut shop down the street from the Start/Finish line fit the bill perfectly.

Brian Hodes of Velo Images couldn't have been cooler. A wiry fellow, Brian was a former cyclist himself and LA wedding shooter who'd finally snapped to his senses to marry his passion for photography with that of cycling. He talked the talk, walked the walk and when I saw him "high-fiving" some of the Pros, I knew he was the real deal. Plus, he was a Nik user and fan!

His gear was simple and oh-so functional: a sweet D3 Nikon, a couple of big lenses (his fav being an 80-200 as I recall), a wide angle, and a battery pack to fire up his speedlight reliably. To top it all off, he had a GoPro Hero HD camcorder that fit into a special hot-shoe attachment so he could videotape everything he was also shooting (for a documentary film he's working on). This was all carried very efficiently in a utility belt supported by a cross-over-the-shoulder strap system.

With his primary targets the Men's and Women's Pro races, Brian worked the starts, then hopped on the F800GS. The course design was roughly rectangular, winding through some of the ranch land and high end housing areas outside old town Murrieta. A lap around was only about 3.5 mi., but the race length of 46 and 56 miles (Women/Men respectively) gave us plenty of opportunities to work the course from all angles.

Each race was led end-to-end by one of the CHP's finest R1200RT riders, while the refs rode alongside or behind the riders depending on the part of the course everyone was on. It was kind of cool that the two referee bikes were a dual-sport KTM and a BMW R/60 from the 70's. In some parts of the track, the racers were permitted to span the width of the road - this allowed riders to "break-away" and pass their competitors. Usually when the riders had the whole width, Brian and I would try to ride in front of the pack, or if we were behind would find a spot to set up for the next lap.

In other parts of the course, the racers were confined to the right lane - called the "yellow-line" rule - and here we could easily pull alongside the peloton (group of riders) and snap some great close-up action shots. Coming down one of the hills, the racers could easily be doing 40-45mph and so it was pretty thrilling to be pacing them.

Between both the Men's and Women's races, we probably spent at least 4.5 hours on the motorcycle jockeying for position, speeding ahead or slowing down, finding some clever ways to show the cyclists in action, and more. A series of my favorite shots that Brian was able to capture were the ones taken in the apex of the corners. He would focus on one rider and pan the camera on the rider as he slashed by - anything in the background would be blurry and so give a strong impression of speed.

The winners of each race instinctively knew whom to face when lifting their arms up in victory - Brian was right there at the finish, camera and big lens cocked and loaded to get that "Sports Illustrated" cover shot.

It was great to catch up with Roderick again too - he and his family are only 45 minutes up the road, but it seems a lifetime away sometimes. He was in fine form, radio in hand, astride his single-speed mountain bike orchestrating myriad volunteers like a band conductor. The camaraderie he has with the Temecula/Murrieta cycling community is tight.

With the race day ended, Brian thanked me for the good piloting work and said he'd send me some pics. I promised to hook him up with Nik's new Silver Efex Pro 2. He was off to shoot an 8-stage bike race in Turkey the following week, but I hope our paths cross again soon.

As for me, I flew home on Hwy 15 sunburned, muscles tired but stoked that I'd experienced seeing these amazing competitors up close and personal. Here are some pics Brian shot of the racers in action:

I was a little bushed by this point in the afternoon, but took solace
that the racers were MORE tired!

Evader XTS2 - First Drive

2011-02-05T08:22:00.000-08:00

My son Ethan turned 12 this past weekend and a couple of great things happened besides the passing of time: he played Paintball for the first time (which will be the subject of another post) and he got a really sweet, very fast radio-controlled (R/C) "stadium" truck called an Evader XTS2.

It was easy to set-up and oh so fun to drive. Plus, spectacular in the dirt down at Canyonside Comm. Park!

The next day we cruised out with our next-door neighbor to share the joy of speed.

Action Filmstrip!

Minor jump. Processed with Nik Software filters Bleach Bypass & Tonal Contrast.

Now it's time for dad to save his shekels for one!

UPDATE - 2/6/11: Took the Evader out with a new 7-cell battery (it came stock with a 6-cell). Oh Jeez - way faster. ;-)

Double Rooster-tail!

Joy and Tragedy

2011-01-23T22:29:00.000-08:00

It had been a balmy week for us folks here in SoCal, and today was no exception. For our Sunday ride, Mark and I chose to start out with the BMW of Escondido ride group for a "cruising" tour to Borrego Springs. We were planning on diverging from the group at some point when the time was right. There was a mixture of road BMWs and a couple of GSs like ours, a few two-up. It left later than our normal "zero dark thirty", about 9am, on a pretty conventional track through Escondido and Valley Center through the Rincon Indian reservation to link up the Hwy 76. From there, we moved out smartly past Lake Henshaw and past Scout Camp Mataguay, turning on S-2 then to Montezuma Grade through Ranchita.

The pace had been leisurely as advertised and both Mark and I were looking for mile marker 6 "Old Wilson Road" in Ranchita. We motioned the group by and waved as they rode into the distance towards Borrego while we stopped and chatted briefly before turning off ABS and heading on to the dirt road.

Our maps showed that Old Wilson would connect up to a road called "Grapevine" that would lead us down the mountains and through Grapevine Canyon to exit near Yacqui Pass on Hwy 78. There was a bit more sand than I would have liked, but the new Scott's Steering Damper gave me some confidence (that I quickly used up!). I think that when I aired up my tires getting ready for the ride I made them *less useful* for this kind of sand riding!

We were motoring pretty steadily downhill and there were jeep tracks that had created sand berms around sharp corners. Luckily it had rained a week ago and the sand was a little hard packed. We passed a few remote ranches and I found myself wondering if that life was simple in its "basic-ness," or difficult.

We were making pretty good time and finally came to dead-end turn-around that was actually a trail head for "Angelina Spring." We met some South Africans there who confirmed that we needed to take a left at the last fork rather than the right turn we did. Heading out, the very next [blind] turn had us climbing through a fairly technical bit of hard pack, replete with boulders, smaller rocks and ruts caused by the recent rains. Mark had already plowed through this, but I wasn't ready for it at all. Fortunately I was in 2nd gear and hit the gas for a low-torque roll-through the rocks. Sheesh - I better start paying attention!

As usual, the more I stood up on the pegs, the better control I had in the sand and jeep tracks. There were a few times the bike got a little squirrely and I did stall it once trying to keep it upright. I found myself riding in one jeep track or the other, but that also subjected me to the whips of creosote bushes and other nefarious branches!

Mark had the foresight to make a couple of ham sandwiches, one of which I joyfully macked on as we relaxed in the middle of *nowhere.* Man, life was great: sweet street curves, challenging dirt trails, and homemade food for energy! He needed some gas, so Julian, CA and a coffee were our next stop. After a bit of rest and "manly talk" we climbed back on the iron horses. Hwy 78 and an unfortunate tragedy lay just ahead.

After waiting for a some motor homes and pick-ups & trailers returning from Ocotillo Wells, we entered the highway about 2 miles south of the twisty part that winds through the rocky pass just south and east of Scissor Crossing. Moving swiftly through the curves all was right with the world until we passed over San Felipe Bridge to find all traffic stopped. We immediately hugged the center line and rode slowly past the vehicles. I asked a couple of people what was going on and the answer was "motorcycle accident." Uh-oh.

As we neared the accident scene, predictably it was a mess. A cyclist was on his back by a crashed Moto Guzzi with onlookers uncomfortably looking on; one woman was leaning over his head. A side-car that used to be attached to the Guzzi was off the road against the cliff. But without a doubt, the thing that captivated attention like a laser beam was the motorcycle crushed underneath a large trailer, fluids leaking out and free-flowing across the road. Being on bikes, we picked our way through the wreckage. There was no way the 4-wheel cages were going to do that anytime soon. I stopped briefly to ask one of the people that looked like they had their wits about them whether we could cruise ahead to get help, or if there was anything we could do, but the emergency teams had already been contacted. One guy on his mobile phone was reading the GPS coordinates of the accident into his receiver.

It was a corner Mark and I knew well - a blind corner that dove in tighter than one expected. I could easily imagine a long truck/trailer combo cutting the corner and the bikes running wide and close to the double-yellow. Trouble.

http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/2011/jan/16/fatal-accident-snarls-highway-78/

It was a sobering scene to be sure, but there was nothing we could do that wouldn't otherwise have gotten in the way. We drifted off at a sobering pace to Julian on a pre-planned gas and coffee stop, the latter at the Julian Coffee Shop. On the way home, we cranked it up a little bit and took the side route of Old Julian Highway off of the 78. The good news is that they'd paved a bit of it and it was a LOT nicer road heading into Ramona. Highly recommended, esp. if the smell of chicken crap doesn't phase you. ;-)

At one of the stoplights in Ramona, Mark suggested taking Highland Valley east-to-west on the way home and I'm really glad he did. This road has it all, from high-speed straights to the tightest of corners; smells of orchards and dust and the sights of "gentlemen" farms dotting the landscape. We separated when the road "T-bones" into Pomerado, me going right towards the 15 and Mark heading Southward towards home. It was a fast, uneventful commute for me after the drama of the day, but oh so sweet as I rolled back into Buckwheat Manor. Next door neighbor Julie Hunter and Emily were selling lemonade outside the house - and doing a land-office business! A cold glass of lemonade poured at home never tasted so good.

Gas, Coffee and tortilla soup, Old Julian Hwy, home to the girls selling lemonade.

Single Image HDR with HDR Efex Pro

2011-01-14T18:23:00.000-08:00

HDR Efex Pro, the latest software creation from my employer Nik Software, continues to amaze me! I especially like re-working previously shot images using "Single Image" tonemapping. Here is a short video by my colleague Tony Corbell that shows the range of things you can do with single image HDR. Enjoy!

Fencing with the Devil

2010-12-31T02:25:00.000-08:00

"This is the most treacherous ride I've ever been on," I kept repeating to myself as the 30-40 mph winds lashed at my F800Gs and the driving rain sleeted against my helmet and suit. I was soaked, 70 miles from home and fighting to stay upright winding up Montezuma Grade coming from Borrego Springs, CA. And then I recalled the freezing rain in Julian, CA a few hours earlier with 34 degrees indicated on the bike's thermometer and thought that perhaps THAT was the most treacherous!

Egads - what had Mark and I been thinking? A few days ago it hadn't sounded too bad — hey, if it rains a little while we're out and about, so be it! But to head off this morning as the rainy front end of a cold Canadian winter storm rolled into town was sort of crazy. Still... 'that which does not kill us, makes us stronger' some old fool said one time.

I'd thought when my friend and riding buddy Mark Myers called on Monday to suggest a Tuesday ride instead of Wednesday, I pressed for the original plan - having the extra day to get over my head cold would be beneficial. Well, we both paid for it in spades. I set out about 7:30am in a light rain from Buckwheat Manor to Mark's house in Rancho Bernardo. My travel bits were nestled in a Krega-10 drybag tail pack so I was confident they would arrive in good working order no matter where we ended up. I wasn't sure about me though!

Rather than start off with the steep & twisty Highland Valley & Bandy Canyon jaunts that preface nearly every one of our rides, we headed over to Poway and Hwy. 67 through Ramona. Our first destination was to be a hearty breakfast at the Old Julian Cafe on Main Street. Getting there was trickier than expected. Since both of us have new Anakee tires on the bikes, traction never seemed to be an issue throughout the day, but the rain would not let up until we hit Borrego late morning. As we climbed above 4200 feet into Julian and the temperature dropped below 40º, a nagging concern for "black ice" peeked out of my sub-conscious and put me on high alert. By now, my outer suit and gloves were soaked and I could feel my fingers going numb. Fortunately my feet were dry in a pair of rain boots and we were nearly there. By the time we rolled onto Main St. the rain was a torrent, literally bouncing off the pavement. Yessiree! High adventure in our home county - sheesh...

There was some question about whether the folks in the cafe would let us in, but once we shed our waterlogged coats and helmets at the door we were a little more presentable. I felt the stares of other patrons and as the rain continued to pour could only imagine what they must be thinking! We warmed up with coffee and the aforementioned hearty grub before grabbing the gear and heading back out to confront the elements. Over food, we agreed to head down the steep and twisty Banner Grade into the Anza-Borrego desert and hopefully warmer, more inviting riding weather.

Banner Grade is arguably one of the most fun, most twisty and engaging rides in the county. It descends about 6 miles or so from Julian to the small outpost of Banner on the desert floor, a drop of just over 1500 feet. There was water sluicing from the hills, usually at the apex of the corners which made every lean of the bike a delicate one. I was concentrating as hard as nails and surprised when the old Banner Store with its neon "OPEN" sign flashed by on the left. We straightened out the road and cracked open the throttles as the rain dissipated, first with thinning drops then the occasionally "plink" against the helmet. While the skies were still gray and black clouds puffy, the desert smelled fresh as we shot past Scissors Crossing en route to Borrego Springs.

Dolomite Me Baby!

Christmas Circle in Borrego is a familiar rest and jumping-off point for all points in the region. Mark had brought along a new map of the area which was an excellent guide to dirt roads and jeep roads; we intended to discover the difference between the two on this trip! Click here to see the map. After a short respite in balmy 52º weather and light rain, we set off heading eastward towards Peg Leg monument, Rock House road, and to explore one Truckhaven Trail. Good choices all!

Rock House road began paved for a couple hundred yards, then turned to dirt. A lot of RV camps were set up close to the S-22 highway, with dirt bikes, quads and buggies galore. With the rain, very few people were out and about in camp. We rode by the campers, me switching off ABS at the dirt, then standing up on the pegs for pretty much the duration of the road. Standing puts the CG ("center of gravity") a bit lower on the bike making for a more sure-footed ride off-road.

This was a fun ride, riding parallel to Clark's Dry Lake bed, with angry clouds above, but chunks of blue sky peeking through. The rain had hard-packed any sandy sections so it was smooth. About 2-3 miles in, we saw the Borrego rock quarry and stopped to take a peek.

No Freakin' Way!

Another reason we stopped: mud, and lots of it. Not the kind of mud you fly through, or even crawl through at slow speed. This was the dry lake bed turned wet kinda mud. Even the old gent repairing a barbed-wire fence at the quarry advised us to not even try. Said that if it had just rained the soil under the surface would have been hard-pack. But with the deluge from days prior and last evening, it was soaked through and through! Better judgment prevailed.

We moseyed back out to the highway, and went searching for Truckhaven Trail, a little slip of a dirt road just before Font's Point which was a trip I'd taken in the Tacoma with the kids and my buddy Steve Koenig (who owns a sweet H3 Hummer). The Trail split off from the highway at a 30º angle then hugged some foothills, dipping through a couple of (mercifully hard-packed) sand washes and climbing a couple of embankments and low-lying hills. Eventually it wound back to S-22, a thoroughly satisfying big-bike jaunt.

Tow vehicle?

While poring over Mark's map at Christmas Circle, we'd also seen a side-road for the Vern Whitaker Horse Camp and thought that would be fun to explore. Anything for a dirt-road! This one split through some sweet-smelling orange groves. Amazing that the trees were still producing at this time of year, but the migrant workers picking oranges were not bluffing. The camp was several miles into the desert, but had stalls, bathrooms and campsites. Of course, ya had to have a horse to camp there, and "iron horses" apparently didn't count!

Desert Beauty at Vern's Horse Camp

At this point we'd been riding and poking around for almost 6 hours and it was time to start heading homeward. We stopped briefly at the Chevron in Borrego - Mark for gas, me for a Red Bull. I figured I'd need some wings to head up Montezuma Grade which was looking pretty dark and foreboding at this point. The route home was set to be as rapid as possible: Borrego Springs > Ranchita > Hwy 76/Lake Henshaw > Pauma Valley > Hwy 15. We briefly flirted with taking another side trip out of Ranchita on what looks to be a very promising dirt road back down through the mountains to Yacqui Flats, but that will be for another day.

Which brings us, gentle readers, 'round to the start of this Missive: treacherous riding up a gorgeous and dangerous twisty road, in sleeting rain, fog and the gusty wind of Hades own breath. OMG, I'm gonna die! Cautious, but quick, we headed up the mountains. I can't speak for Mark but I had a warm house and family on my mind! I think the thing that was most unnerving was the wind. Unpredictable. Swirly. Inconsistent in its ferocity. There's simply no way to describe the sensation of the bike drifting almost uncontrollably across a wet lane towards "rocky pain" than unnerving. We were in a fencing match with the Devil himself: parry, thrust, side-step, score! After reaching safe haven at home, I looked up the weather report online only to discover in horror that wind gusts up to 65mph were reported in Ranchita... I don't think I'd be here to write about it if I encountered something that strong, but it does give one pause.

We finally reached Hwy. 79 east of Lake Henshaw, and yet it seemed as though the wind kicked it up a notch, having a few miles of open space across the lake to build in intensity. The rain hadn't let up since we left Borrego and wouldn't all the way home. We blasted past the Mataguay Scout Camp to Hwy. 76 - lots of folks at the Lake Henshaw cafe´ today - and onward towards home. Still... Jilberto's Taco Shop called out - we needed to refuel our bodies after the workout! Spicy carrots and carne asada tacos never tasted so good!

Besides being chilled to the bone, wet and tired, the rest of the journey was pretty much routine - a fast blast south on Hwy. 15, thanking Cal Trans for rain-grooving the concrete and thanking the Good Lord above for delivering us once again to our loving families — ever the more appreciated for the journey we'd endured to return to them.

Without the constant adventure and adrenaline rush of a RTW trek — or at least a trans-continental journey — we search for some pinch of hard-nosed reality in our own backyard. This week's ride was all that and more!

Scout Backpack Trip: Devil's Slide

2010-09-27T23:08:00.000-07:00

Earlier this month, Ethan and I embarked on a tasty little backpacking trip with 34 of our closest friends from Troop 648. The 3-day/2-night trip consisted of driving up to Idyllwild on Friday, hiking up Devil's Slide on Saturday, and hiking down on Sunday after an overnighter near Skunk Cabbage Meadows. Of course, I insisted on riding the F800GS up while Etho carpooled up with one of the Troop drivers. Yahoo!

I'd dropped Ethan and his gear off with the group leaving San Diego at 6pm, but I didn't hit the road on the bike until 7pm. Leaving town on a Friday evening heading through Riverside to Hemet is always a bad idea, but it's even worse when there's an accident (for no obvious reason) on the I-15 freeway between Fallbrook and Temecula. Luckily I could lane split close to the front, but was dismayed to see a full-dress Harley smashed up against a guardrail.

Turning east on Hwy 79, I headed into the desert on a familiar route to Idyllwild - Aguanga, Anza, Mountain Center. By the time I really got cruising though, it was pitch black. Been a long time since I'd ridden at night, so I thought this was good practice (and incentive to put on some aux. lights one of these days!).

Our first night was to be at Idyllwild Park in town, to keep things simple. I was astonished to be the 2nd vehicle in camp - everyone else got caught in traffic and all stopped for a Dairy Queen through Hemet.

Once everyone was in camp about 45 minutes later, the tents were set up pretty quickly and all were in bed by about 10:30pm.

The Troop tradition on campouts is to serve a "Cracker Barrel" snack to tide everyone over - cheddar cheese and Ritz crackers never tasted so good!

The next morning, once everyone got up and had some muffins & coffee (juice/water for the boys), we fell into a rhythm of taking down the tents and then divvying up the 2-person Troop tents for backpacking. I was going to bunk with a fellow named Chris (whose son is a good friend of Ethan's), so I took my share, got everything sorted and threw my pack into a truck for transport. Did I mention yet that my pack was *wicked heavy*? More on that later...

Crew #2 on the morn of departure from Humber Park.

We had a bit of an auspicious start trying to get everyone to Humber Park, the starting point of the trail. Seems all the cats that knew how to drive there left in one group. So the other 4 vehicles and I lagged behind and ultimately I asked a lady walking down the road for directions. To my surprise, she asked for a ride down to the end of the road - about 3/4 mile - in exchange. Sure, says I, and she hopped on the F8! LOL.

Because we were such a large group, we divided into 3 "crews" and left in 20-minute intervals. I'd hiked the Devil's Slide trail with Rod Baine and River back in '96 or '97, but the steepness of the trail and elevation gain was still very trying.

Etho and I had done a "shakedown" hike up Black Mtn near our house with the rest of the Troop, but our packs weren't completely loaded then. Now they were and we were laboring... I'd bought some Leki trekking poles so my aging knees might be spared, but Ethan immediately claimed them for his own. I called dibs on the way down!

1996: A younger me and my pal who is now in "doggie heaven"

1996: Best friend Rod and I - start or finish? (I can't tell)

"Window Rock" - nice pic Etho!

The switchbacks up both afforded spectacular views and were butt-kicking. One of the leaders had said we were gaining 1600' in about 2 miles. That's pretty steep if you're counting! Our crew started about 11am and by about 3:30-4:00 hit Saddle Junction. I was very impressed with Ethan's strong performance - what a trooper! We planned to camp Saturday night near Skunk Cabbage Meadow. There were reliable opinions of water that we could filter up there and it was big enough in area that a group our size could set up camp and have 200 yards or so between crews (one of the principles of Leave No Trace).

At the sign we should have turned at!

Hiking down from Saddle Junction, we followed another crew that unfortunately took a wrong turn. I had just turned to our crew leader an remarked we were off course when a hiker coming up the trail confirmed that we were heading away from Skunk Cabbage Meadow. So... back up the trail we went! At a junction we passed earlier, pointing to Taquitz Meadow, we headed down another finger trail and downhill - losing precious altitude! Still... the trail through the meadows was gorgeous compared the the scree field we had climbed up earlier in the day.

About 3/4 of a mile in, around a nob hill, and down further into the meadows, we stopped and a couple of us fanned out to located a suitable campsite and water source. Eureka! A flat area above Reeds Meadow beckoned, with a tiny brook several hundred feet further down in between two hills as further evidence of a good camp.

Awesome meadows await

Despite being tired, the boys and adults set about erecting their tents quickly, and filtering the first of many batches of water from the brook. Everyone had to do it at least once, but some boys took to it like, well... fish, so they did the lion's share! Since we arrived so late into camp, it seemed like we only had about an hour to hang out in camp before the sun started to go down, dropping the temperature dramatically. It was only forecast to get into the high '40's deep at night and I'm confident it did.

Our campfire!

We were boiling water like mad to get everyone's dry food "cooked", and then most of the camps seemed to hunker down and talk amongst themselves as the night grew longer. One of our ASM's, Anne Daniells was kind enough to bring over a tin can "campfire" filled with cardboard and wax. Doesn't seem like much, but it really sparked up the ambiance of our camp!

My tent mate turned in a bit earlier than I, but eventually I crawled into the tent through a half-open doorway - the zipper was broken so it would only conveniently open about halfway w/o a lot of noise and workin' it. Eventually I got settled in and fell fast asleep pretty quickly. It had been a tough slog - I'd packed too heavy and actually took on a couple of things from Ethan's pack - but all's well that ends well.

The "kitchen"

The next morning (Sunday), the camps woke somewhat slowly but once we got going everything broke down and packed up quickly, departing around 10am. We were once again the 2nd crew to leave, and willed ourselves uphill back to Saddle Junction for a quick break before heading further downhill.

It got hot fast as the sun crested the trees and bore down on us. I took my trekking poles back from Etho, which I credit for helping my aging knees on the way down Devil's Slide trail. Again, Ethan would be very strong on the way down, marching forward and this time keeping pace with one of the 16-year old boys and the adult among us in the best shape. Yeah, I was lagging in the middle or talking with our "sweepers." ;-)

I had left my riding suit and helmet in the 3rd crew leader's truck, so once we arrived at the trail head again I had to wait about 45 minutes to retrieve them before hopping on the F8GS back to San Diego. It was again getting later on in the day, but I still avoided Hemet and went back through Anza - hurrah for Dairy Queen there! - through Temecula and onward south on Hwy 15 backtracing my steps of a couple days prior. The traffic was moving along nicely and a couple of times I jetted forward to keep up with some executive barnstormer in a BMW or crazy person doing triple-digits. Bike felt nice and stable at about 105mph. ;-)

As for Ethan? Despite protests in the beginning and the reluctance at the start of the trail, he had a great time with his friends and just being out in the woods. I think he was glad I was along, but not more glad than I was to be a part of his life in this way. Go Troop 648 - Onward to the beach camp in a few weeks!

Black & White Delight

2010-08-02T18:07:00.000-07:00

A few times a year, Nik Software (company I work for) has an "employee photo contest." The mid-year contest theme was "Dramatic Black & White with a Human Element." All were color and light adjusted with Nik Software's Viveza 2, converted to B&W with Silver Efex Pro, and sharpened for output with Sharpener Pro 2.0.

I thought each image hinted at some good and rather human stories. Herewith for your viewing pleasure are my 2 entries to the contest, and some others considered. Cheers.

ENTRIES

Lonely Man Mulls Redemption

Joe Gets Ice Cream

OTHERS CONSIDERED

Order of the Arrow

Sunset Surfer

"Did You Just Pinch Me?"


Chalk Artist - NYC

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Solo Black Canyon Blast

2010-08-01T20:27:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago - the weekend of Emily's big dance recital which will be the subject of a future blog post - I took the opportunity of having mother-in-law Mary in town to take a solo blast to find and ride some dirt roads.

Creeping past mom (who was asleep on the couch) and my friend's beagle that we were "dog-sitting," I quietly headed into the garage and fired up the F8GS motor after putting the garage door down. There was a little nip in the air, but most early mornings these days are around 60 degrees and pretty comfie.

I shook off sleep and motored away from Buckwheat Manor towards the Wild Animal Park and the "real" start of my ride. Riding past the Orfilia Winery and the llamas on Old San Pasquel road to a gloriously empty Hwy 78, the trek was fast and smooth. My plan was to try and find the south entrance to a longish dirt road called Black Canyon truck trail that my buddy Mark and I had traveled on several times, then motor out to Lake Henshaw on the dirt. However, we'd always traveled from the northeast side coming from Sutherland Dam. I recalled one of those occasions in 2009 when we exited on a road called Haverford, so that's the one I turned on this particular morning.

It wasn't clear how to get to the road so I found myself winding through pleasant rural neighborhoods waking up. Folks were jogging or walking dogs, slopping pigs, getting their morning papers, and nearly all waved as I rode by.

Finding a promising sign for Pamo Ranch road - promising because it said "Dead End" and "Pavement Ends" - some instinct inside told me to press on regardless. I wasn't disappointed!

It turned out to be a paved road winding down into a valley past the Ramona dump, which after a mile or so turned to dirt - yahoo! The land on both sides had signs saying it was owned by the City of San Diego but I just figured that meant as a taxpayer I could cruise on until they stopped me! Early in the morning and surrounded by small foothills, the sun peeking over, it was a relaxing time for a ride.

I spent a lot of time up on the pegs learning the feel for the bike on the dirt. Mostly I stayed in second or third gear since Pamo was pretty flat with lazy turns - 2nd gear on the F8 is wide-band joy. Had to slow down for some turkeys crossing the road, but the cows stayed put in the fields barely looking up as cows do.

Start of Black Canyon road

Eventually Pamo ended with locked gate and a ranch in the distance and I turned around. Heading back into the neighborhood, I saw a promising road that seemed to lead into the hills beyond. Turned out it was in fact the entrance to Black Canyon road. This one was a bit more technical than I recall, with lots of narrow curves. Again, up on the pegs most of the time, in 2nd gear, and working on throttle control (which would serve me well a couple weeks later up in Big Bear).

About 10 miles along, I stopped at the new bridge built near Sutherland Dam to replace one constructed in the 30's, and then continued on to the Mesa Grande Indian reservation.

Black Canyon through the reservation was wide and well-graded, but had a few wash-board areas - still, no issues at all for the F8. I love poking around through the back-country and came across the Shooting Star Ranch as well - love that gate!

Shooting Star Ranch

Beauty shot on Black Canyon

I've always sung the praises of the twisty Mesa Grande road which was re-paved a few years back. The dirt ends right at the old Mesa Grande store. I turned left and immediately was on the gas, flying through the corners heading for breakfast at Lake Henshaw. The versatility of the big dual-sports never cease to amaze me! The lake was looking beautiful and I couldn't help but stop for a "self-portrait!"

Breakfast was hearty, the coffee was hot and the boot-wearin' waitress cute, but it was also getting to be mid-morning. I'd had it in my mind to be rolling back into the driveway in Rancho Penasquitos at 10am, and that was going to take some "scooting" to get 'er done.

I jetted the straightest way I could think of, which was back through Santa Ysabel to Ramona and into Poway. I clipped along as fast as possible and arrived at about 10:15am, tired but all smiles.

Big Bear Ride

2010-07-31T22:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's ride had all the rich goodness of a long-distance adventure ride, albeit packed into one long day. For a couple of months, riding buddy Mark (R1200GS) and I have been taking a day off from work during the week to ride - this month, we headed towards Big Bear Lake about 2 hours North of San Diego. We knew generally we wanted to cruise up fast in the morning, poke around the lake, and sample some of the fire roads. The plan was followed, but as I reflected later, what we really did was a dandy little compressed ride for big dual-sport bikes.

About a week earlier, I posted our intentions on the San Diego Adventure Riders web forums and asked for some advice about dirt roads suitable for big bikes. Most of those cats it seems ride smaller, purpose-built, barely street legal cycle and can go up trails that would make mountain goats think twice... A friendly rider, DSFOX, answered my call and totally delivered the goods.

Deb hooked us up with a forestry map complete with highlighted trails and notes about each one and her take on whether it was cool for the biggies. There was way more to explore than we could handle in a day, but since she had just ridden the South side of the lake the weekend prior, that seemed like a good choice.

As always the day started early. We left Mark's joint at 6am and traveled fast up Hwy 15 heading to San Bernoo. Traffic wasn't bad at all - roads laden with "contractor trucks" easily identifiable by their racks, gear, and logo'ed doors - but when we hit Hwy 215 thru Riverside it became a small nightmare (you'll see later in the day why it was only "small"). Eventually, we popped out of the mess on to Hwy 10 East to the 330 towards Running Springs, Lake Arrowhead, and of course Big Bear Lake at approximately 7500' elevation.

Hwy 330, which turns into Hwy 18 about half-way up the mountains, is a clean and twisty biker paradise kinda road, winding up through the trees towards the heavens. Again, a few contractors and some semis slowed our progress, but thankfully all used the turnouts to let us pass.

Arriving near the top, the road went to one-lane due to construction, with flagmen at each end alternately stopping and releasing traffic in great long trains of vehicles. It's a joy to have a bike at these times to jet to the front of the line. ;-)

As we got closer to Big Bear, we could see some significant work being done near the dam that, well... makes the lake possible. In fact, the road over the dam to the town was closed, so we detoured on the North side of the lake and stopped for breakfast at a town called Fawnskin (eewwwww!). The Gold Pan Restaurant called out to us and we enjoyed the cool, 42-year old family run restaurant and bar.

The interior was filled with mementos of the glory days and lots of signed actor/actress publicity shots. We sat next to guy who works for a concrete company and he explained what was going on at the dam: it was built in 1911 and because the main road into town was built on the top of the dam (and 20,000 lb. trucks weren't around in 1911) it was crumbling fast. The decision was made to build a new bridge and turn the current road on top of the dam into a pedestrian walkway. I think it was TARP money footing the bill. He marveled at the construction of the dam, saying that in the old days plywood hadn't been invented yet, their "rebar" was square iron rods, and they didn't have the cranes we use today. Just an observation and nod to the ingenuity of earlier generations...

After a hearty meal, we cruised to the east side of the lake to a bridge that of course we had to stop on - it was turning into a gorgeous day! Mark got some great shots of the 2 bikes on the bridge and of course the BMW Rallye Pro 2 riding suit advertisement. ;-)

We planned to try one of the forest roads Deb suggested right away to get our boots dirty. Called "2N10", the road started off of Moonridge road near the Bear Mtn ski resort on the Southeast corner of the lake, and wound through the pines for at least 8 miles back to the lake. Nothing too tricky, and the views were spectacular.

Mark was hot-dogging it around some berms, and there were some ruts to stay out of, but otherwise it was a piece of cake. We emerged on the Southwestern edge into one of the many cabin-infested neighborhoods and then finally into the town of Big Bear.

Mark scooting around a berm on the big bike!

Dusty and now a bit more tired in the mid-day, Mark led us to a little bar right on the lake where we had some hot wings and cool drinks. Taking in the boaters and jet-skiers sitting outside in the cool breezes was completely relaxing and a great way to ease into the second (and more difficult part of our day).

By the time we left the lake, we'd pretty much decided on another road from Deb's map called 2N93 which would take us from just outside Big Bear City and wind down through the mountains to link up with Hwy 38 to Interstate 10 and home. On one map we had, 2N93 was labeled a dirt road and on another it was designated more like a 4x4 trail.

The latter proved to be true, demanding all our attention and skills to make it down the mountain. There were times when it was a pleasant dirt path, but mostly it was a rock-strewn "scree-field" of a road where you just needed to keep the speed up and roll through the shards. Other times you had to steer your front wheel slowly through the jutting rocks that could easily cause you to lose balance if they shifted. This happened to Mark once and he dinged up one of his exhaust pipes and an engine cover - battle scars...

Even though I had plenty of close calls, I found the F800GS to be in it's element on the 12-mile road. It wasn't too technical, just enough. The switchbacks were not too tight for the long bike, just right. The up- and down-grades were challenging, but manageable. Most of my time was spent standing up on the pegs (and I'm feeling it today!). I tried hard to ride the bike, not overly control it. The snatchy throttle so characteristic of the F8GS was a bit tricky, but it was surprising how low you can lug it when needed. I'm really pleased by the bite and performance of the Michelin Anakee tires - while knobbies would have been better on the dirt road part, for an all-around tire I'm pretty stoked.

There was a pretty technical downhill part right in the last quarter-mile of 2N93 that had me relying on the F8GS's massive 21" front tire to roll me through then - eureka! - there was Hwy 38, a gleaming smooth ribbon twisting through the valley. The amazing thing that completely spoke volumes to me about the versatility of the BMW dual-sport bikes, was this: we had come off a hard dirt trail, then in 30 seconds were shifting with ease through all 6 gears again, slicing and carving on an incredible twisty road, with nary a skip. I took it easy through the first couple of corners wanting to make sure the dust was off the edges of my tires, then blazed on with reckless, giddy abandon until the next town, still about 2 hours from home.

We made a quick pit-stop at an A&W, victims of a roadside billboard, then were quickly into 5pm rush hour traffic. Interstate 10 wasn't bad, but Hwy 215 - the bypass through Riverside between the 10 and Hwy 15 was a NIGHTMARE. This was the opposite of the aforementioned "small" nightmare. The only thing I'll say about it is that 40 miles of lane-splitting through bumper-to-bumper traffic is no picnic - demands equal parts instincts, faith, experience, and insanity.

After all that, I was glad to have a little extra time at the end of the day to chill with my good friend Rod and his family in Temecula, still about 45 minutes from Buckwheat Manor. He graciously offered a bottle of cool water and we caught up a bit on the back porch of his hacienda before I scooted for home. My family wasn't there when I arrived at 7:15pm. That was probably a good thing as I was in desperate need of a hot shower. A few minutes later, a cold beer never tasted so good!

So... this one had it all folks! My checklist for a good all-encompassing adventure ride: meet new people, ride twisty roads, share good meals, ride challenging dirt roads, marvel at beautiful scenery, be with friends, don't crash, see new places, have a blast. Done, done, and done! Until next time...

BMWOCSD Ride

2010-04-18T23:04:00.000-07:00

Methinks it's been more than a decade since I've showed up at Giovanni's Restaurant (err... Mr. G's) on a Sunday to ride with the venerable BMW Owners Club of San Diego. Back in the day when I had my K75S, was editor of the Road Signs (the club's monthly fishwrap), and was a single man, it was pretty much a 3x per month thing. Heck, back then I figured no better way to learn the back roads of our county, blazing trails, kicking tires, and meet new people. Plus, the annual Oktoberfest rally was always a blast.

With nothing much going on this weekend, unlike the upcoming 2-3 weekends, AND a couple of new tires on the F800GS - Michelin Anakees - I decided to jump back in the pool and check out how the club was doing. I'd fixed breakfast for me and the kids, which made me burst out the door a little later than planned, but still had plenty of time for some coffee, tire-kicking and getting to know a couple of people at Giovanni's. Klaus - the fellow with the sidecar built in Switzerland comes to mind, as does Terry who is a retired musician living right across the street from the start of Highland Valley road - one of my all-time fav roads.

But who should also walk in but good 'ol John Hermann, the King of the Alps. All decked out in his black leathers fresh from the Coronado trek on his trusty R1200R, he looked dashing with a characteristic twinkle in this eye - great to see him! Made me sorry I missed the annual running of the Wildcat Canyon ride last weekend.

I elected to tag along with Terry and the ride leader for the morning named Bill. Terry was riding 2-up with his wife on a K1300GT, and the rest of the pack was a mix of R1200 and R1150 bikes of the road and dual-sport variety if you get my drift. Fun to see a guy on one of the big GS's doing a wheelie down Ruffin road as we left. I was definitely the odd man out on the F8GS. There were 10 of us total.

Only Bill knew the route, so we followed him down the 15 south to 805 south down to hook around Otay Lake. Ahhhh... a road I know well. Still... these guys were fast and butter-smooth through the turns. Zoom - Zoom - Zoom, ten in a row we blasted through the corners, only slowed by the occasional car or Border Patrol enforcement truck. I was focused and in the groove with the pace, the F8GS humming along always above 5k RPM in the sweet band, shifting snick-snick up and down in formation. As I was getting used to the tires, I was a little reluctant to press the outer edges, but definitely shaved some newness out of 'em. We hit Hwy 94 and continued to haul butt towards the east, past Portrero and the burned-out church where I took a few cool photos back in January, past Dulzura, and on into Campo for a rest at the Circle K mini-market at Cameron Corners.

It should be noted that the roads are delightfully twisty in this part of the county, making them a magnet for folks like us but also for the "squids." Dunno why we call them that (I'm sure my friend Jon will weigh in here), but these are the high-speed sport bike crowd who really MOVE down the public roads. You really have to be on your toes because these cats will whiz by, aftermarket pipe howling, or just dice through our 10-bike formation pell-mell looking to move to the front of the pack like we're on the track at Willow Springs - been there, done that. I don't begrudge them at all, but on a twisty road, oncoming traffic, bicycles on the right side, there is damned little margin for error. I was even passed a couple of times on the right side which was a bit reckless by most people's reckoning. I know... some of you are thinking "pussy", but hey, I'm also mortal. ;-)

Anyway, after a few tire kickin' stories at the mini-mart and a couple of artsy antique gas pump shots I couldn't pass up, we threw our legs over the saddle and fired up the iron horses again. The group jetted over to old Hwy 80, rolled through the Border Patrol stop there, and then I broke away from the group to head back home via Hwy 8. It was close to noon, and I had some things to do back at Buckwheat Manor.

After free wheeling through the back-country, I was still feeling pretty froggy on the way home and thus didn't suffer the slow "car coffins" lightly. Taking no prisoners, despite a few stiff breezes, I cruised back in record time clocking 85-90mph most of the way on the 8. Hwy 67 was a little more leisurely - I fell into a pack of Harley cruisers for awhile. Finally the home stretch on Scripps Poway Pkwy towards home provided a little amusement talking stoplight-to-stoplight with a pig-tailed girl on a Sportster heading from home in Ramona to Mira Mesa.

All told, a great little re-introduction to the club and some fun riding. Wished I could have done the Laguna Mtns with the rest of the gang, but next time will certainly be the charm. Oh, the new Anakees? Sticky as gum - couldn't be more pleased on the tarmac. Big shout out to San Diego BMW Motorcycles for a job well done mounting/balancing the tires and also replacing that pesky gas tank under warranty! Stay tuned for a fire trails report on the tires when I go riding with R1200GS Mark. ;-)

Are the Boy Scouts Ready for Ethan?

2010-03-22T19:34:00.000-07:00

It's been nearly a month since my son Ethan "bridged" (i.e. graduated) from the Cub Scouts of Pack 621 to Boy Scouts the last weekend of February.

This was a 5-year journey of some note, beginning in 1st grade which is the "Tiger" rank all the way to 5th grade and his Webelos 2 rank. As a parent and coincidentally the Pack Cubmaster for several of those years I couldn't be more proud of his accomplishments.

In that short amount of time, the experiences we shared include but are certainly not limited to:

Ft. Rosecrans flag placement
Visiting Fire Station #40
Snow day at Big Bear
Webelos Woods camp at Mataguay Boy Scout Ranch
The Traveler achievement
Den meeting at Heritage park in Poway
ARC camp at Camp Balboa
Summertime bowling
Every Pinewood Derby race, but most especially the last one where Etho won and will represent Pack 621 at the annual San Diego 500 this April

Pack 621 celebrates these occasions with a combination annual "Blue & Gold" part and bridging ceremony led by the Order of the Arrow, a special group within Boy Scouts that help such things. It's a Pack event with each Den represented as well, and lots of parents and grand parents enjoying the spectacle.

The celebration and bridging ceremony this year also coincided with the 100th anniversary of the Boy Scouts of America. This is obviously a huge deal for the organization and they've gone all out to note the accomplishment and look ahead to the next 100 years (God willing!). Their "Adventure Base" making the trek around the country is a visible example, as are the Centennial ring patches that fit around the World Crest badge on uniforms.

We had 6 boys bridge over to 3 different Boy Scout "Troops" (vs. "Packs" in the Cub Scouts). Troop 676, Troop 622 and Troop 648 all welcomed the boys by calling them over a Bridge symbolizing the Scout Law that was built by Mark Mallrich (alum of P621) and switching out their neckerchiefs and epaulets.

So, after 5 years, Ethan and I are on a new Scout journey. He's joined T648 and is working towards his "Tenderfoot" rank. He's in a new Patrol called the "Flying Squirrels" and by all accounts loving it. The Troop is made up of a lot of pretty cool kids, insofar as I can tell. I especially like the way the older boys treat the younger ones with respect.

It's far too challenging to eloquently sum up how one feels when your child passes from one special place in his life to another, so I'll just let a few more pictures do the talking...

Dog on Miner's Ridge Trail

2010-02-28T19:33:00.000-08:00

A few Sundays ago, as most morning go, I woke up before 7am. Now the thing about that is... well... it's damned early for a Sunday and not much is going on. I meant to change that! Moseying downstairs, I fed Bella the Vizsla and decided that her fission-level energy need taking down a few notches: Off to the trails!

Usually we head to one of the many parks in Rancho Penasquitos - none of them formal dog parks, but early enough no one will hassle you for having your pooch off leash. This time however I decided to head to an open space preserve that encompasses the tallest hills in the area known as Black Mountain. There was a parking area that fronted a couple of trails and I figured "no time like the present."

Was I in for a pleasant surprise! Bella was stoked of course, but the morning was cool and "dewy," the trail was slightly muddy and wet, and the elevation was up and down. Yee-haw! Perfect conditions for a romp. Up and down was right - the trail was rocky but clear, with scrub brush on both sides. I wasn't sure it went all the way to the cell phone towers on top of the mountain, but the map at the bottom showed a loop so we went for it.

What a great way to start off the day - the dog crashing through brush, bounding about, and checking in every once and awhile. Me, alternating between jogging up the hill and rock-hopping. Sixty percent of the time, the brush was at least chest if not head height, so the views weren't quite as spectacular as they could have been... but I think that made me stop and appreciate them more!

About 3/4 of the way around the trail, I came upon the carcass of an eviscerated mouse. I could imagine a hawk grabbing the unlucky chap in razor-sharp talons, eating its fill and dropping it to the ground. Poor mouse; Bella didn't even pause going by (but at least now you're immortalized on the Internet!).

I'll visit Miner's Ridge again - next time with a kid in tow. Gotta get up early to keep up with Dad!

Da Dump!

2010-02-06T22:59:00.000-08:00

Etho and I went to the garbage dump today. Ordinarily this wouldn't be a big deal, but it was pretty much the first time I'd been to a dump (AKA "landfill") here in CA vs. the ones in AZ. The last one I was at was outside of Green Valley, AZ a few years back when visiting my step-father. House man "Bear" and I had taken a load in the smallish red Nissan pickup truck.

The cool thing about the big Miramar landfill is that it's... well... REALLY BIG. You have to drive 5-8 minutes after cruising through the scales and paying to get to the pit. Cars and trucks are shuffled away from the big trash haulers. The birds were omnipresent.

It was raining when we went - a rarity in San Diego - which helped tamp down the stench and increase the mud content of the joint.

We were hauling a couple of closet doors, a toilet that my friend Tony wanted to get rid of, and some chest of drawers from the kid's rooms (following an Ikea visit to replace them). Cost was $18 - ouch - but I wasn't complaining because the City of San Diego is stupid enough not to charge homeowners for trash pick-up!

I liked the mud and the birds and the time spent with Etho who seemed to dig helping his Dad for once...

Pinewood Derby 2010

2010-02-04T22:26:00.000-08:00

This year's annual Pack 621 Derby was extra special in a number of ways. One such way was that car entries built by Dad and son (that would be me and Etho) were joined by a totally cool race car designed and carved by my daughter Emily in the shape of an "E." Her colorful car turned heads and smoked all comers on the Friday practice day!

It was also the inaugural race on the brand new aluminum Derby track purchased by Pack 621. The company which built it, BestTrack, did a fine job - it was everything they billed it as and more. The smart purchase as well was their "Champ" electronic timer which sorted out race results to the *thousandth* of a second - WOW!

Kevin, Patrick, Matt, me and several others trucked the track over in a fine storage box built by Woodworker Jim of the Pack. We built it on Friday night at the Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormon) church up the road. The have graciously donated their gym the last several years so that we could run a quality race rain or shine. There was a little tinkering that had to be done and a couple of times we had a few things backwards for a minute or two, but by early evening kids were racing and fine-tuning their cars for the BIG race scheduled for the next morning.

Ethan's entry was a last-minute build later that night because when we tried to install his axles/wheels in his car the wood split because he had carved out the body too close to the axle grooves. Much gnashing of teeth and wailing! Luckily he had cut his block of wood down the middle during the Pack's "Build Day" in mid-January. So, we reached into the parts bin, pulled that wedge out, and immediately reached for the orange Krylon. After it dried, I used a T-square to mark some new axle grooves straight as I could, then gingerly sawed those darned grooves. The wheels slotted in perfectly and we went to bed satisfied that we had a decent and hopefully competitive car.

Boy howdy: Race Day! Scout families were abuzz with excitement as they wheeled their cars in. Most did some last minute adjustments to weigh in at 5oz, squirting powdered graphite into their axles and finally going through Registration to end up with their rides on the Impound table (where they could not be touched again prior to race time). Soon, racing began with cars zoom-zooming down the track, sometimes separated by tenths of a second. Starter Matt and Scorekeeper Matt (errr... different people), kept the races moving along until we had the top 12 cars ready to move on to the finals.

During intermission, Dads and siblings raced their cars in the "Unlimited" class. Since there were essentially no rules except that the cars must be powered by gravity, some entries went for style points (one had functioning lights and Emily's "E" was a crowd favorite), or brute force (heavy railroad spike), or a combo of the two (stylish and oh-so weighty). I entered a black lowered pick-up truck with about 1.5lbs of lead in the bed.

Though my favorite was probably Dave's old-school Derby car he raced decades ago as a Cub Scout, and Spike gave me a run for the money winning a couple of races, it was no contest at the end as sheer black lead mass triumphed over all comers...

When the Scouts came back from snacks, everyone knew it was serious race time. The margin of difference between a first place finish in the heats now was measured in hundredths of seconds. Whoa! Lots of clapping and cheering.

Because I was taking a lot of pics of the races, it took me awhile to realize that Etho's bright orange wedge car kept winning, heat after heat after heat! It wasn't long before I heard a group of the Webelos 2 boys chanting "Ethan, Ethan" and another faction of the younger Scouts shouting "Camden, Camden", whipping the crowd into a frenzy and swinging all attention on the final races.

Eyes of the adults and kids alike were glued on the track and timer as Derby cars built by Ethan, Camden, and Miles raced down the track three times. And three times, the "Krylon Special" of Ethan logged position #1 at the end of the track. Ethan had won the 2010 Pack 621 Pinewood Derby! Fantastic - I'm proud of you son!

Next stop is the "San Diego 500 Grand Prix" at the 2010 Scout Fair at Qualcomm Stadium in April. Until then, the car is under glass: Nobody is touching the Krylon Special!

R.I.P. River

2010-01-18T20:35:00.000-08:00

"Cry Me a River Wild" departed this shiny Blue Marble in the general direction of Dog Heaven this evening. If there's some meandering to do, count on some o' that.

My supreme pal with angel wings, near limitless energy, a zest for family, and a curiously aerodynamic bump on your head, I will miss you bud...

"Now it is lonely inside my heart; I don't know what to do..."
~~ Emily La Rue

"River was one of the best dogs a kid could ask for."
~~ Ethan La Rue

Rest in Peace River (but run like heck!)

d. Jan 18, 2010

1.24.10: We have the greatest friends in the world. Since I cross-posted on Facebook, I'm sharing some of the comments from that place to this place, as follows:

Rod Baine
So sorry my friend... he served his master well, and can now rest.
January 18 at 8:38pm ·

Michael Rubin
Hang in there bud!
January 18 at 8:46pm ·

Steve Koenig
Sorry to hear that Kev. Tough losing a pet, a member of the family. Give my best to the wife and kids.
January 18 at 10:01pm ·

Laurie Shupp
Kevin, a great big hug to you and your family. I have the feeling that Caleb will be joining River soon...
January 18 at 10:24pm ·

Mornee P Sherry
I Stood By Your Bed

I stood by your bed last night, I came to have a peep. I could see that you were crying, You found it hard to sleep

I whined to you softly As you brushed away a tear, "It's me, I haven't left you, I'm well, I'm fine, I'm here."...

I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea, You were thinking of the many times, Your hands reached down to me.

I was with you at the shops today, Your arms were getting sore. I longed to take your parcels, I wish I could do more.

I was with you at my grave today, You tend it with such care. I want to re-assure you, That I'm not lying there.

I walked with you towards the house, As you fumbled for your key. I gently put my paw on you, I smiled and said "It's me"

You looked so very tired, And sank into a chair, I tried so hard to let you know, That I was standing there.

It's possible for me, To be so near you every day. To say to you with certainty, "I never went away."

You sat there very quietly, Then smiled, I think you knew… In the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.

An when the time is right for you, To cross the brief divide, I'll rush across to greet you, And we'll stand, side by side.

I have so many things to show you, There is so much for you to see. Be patient, live your journey out…

Then come home to be with me.

I feel for you buddy...hopefully this helps!
January 18 at 11:55pm ·

Cindy Taylor
Aw Kev....losing a special friend is NEVER easy....I hope your happy memories bring you peace and comfort. The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master.
January 19 at 7:21am ·

Alex Tosheff
He had a good long and well-loved life - even though we tried to do them in once or twice (penasquitos flood) I'd like to think River and Romeo are chasing each other somewhere else now :)
January 19 at 7:25am ·

Lauren Tosheff
The focus on that dog, standing there at the beach waiting for you to throw that Frisbee.... We'll never forget River, and always be grateful for your friendship because of 2 great dogs.
January 19 at 4:11pm ·

Jon Wright
Dude, know how you feel, and while it's the right thing to do it is never pleasant. I felt a lot of emotional angst as I watched the life leave Desi's eyes, and while I was sad I was also relieved that the struggle and pain were over. Our family will miss him dearly, even though he never failed to nail me in the crotch every time I showed up at your door.
January 19 at 5:56pm ·

E-Ticket Sunrise

2010-01-10T22:25:00.000-08:00

Today I just needed to ride. Following a tough week at Nik and a super-busy Saturday, my goal was to just spend the morning riding and shooting pics out east of San Diego.

I was flying solo, so time and distance was not an issue. After studying the famous BMW Owners Club of SD ride map, the Laguna Mountains called out like a siren!

I left Buckwheat Manor at 5:35 bundled up to the hilt, with neck warmer, windproof vest and new BMW "Allaround" gloves that have some nice warm lining in them. Still wicked cold though (more on that later!). I filled up with gas at the Mobil on Scripps/Poway Parkway, and took off like a shot to Hwy 67. I was hustling so through the foothill curves of that dangerous two-laner I was alternating between high beams and low (when traffic approached).

Sunrise was to arrive at 6:52am according to the paper, so I scrambled to get into the back-country by dawn. Once I got on I-8, I was flyin' at 90mph much of the way to the Hwy 79 turn-off at Descanso to which I arrived about 6:20am. The highway riding was mostly in the mid- to -high 40's, but once on the twisty tarmac heading towards Lake Cuyamaca my temp guage was indicating 27 - 37 degrees. Heated handgrips were blasting, but the cold was severe. I was a bit concerned about hitting some "black ice", but there hadn't been any precip for a couple of weeks and the days had been warming up nicely.

It was a race to find some picturesque country before dawn - something other than just burnt hills or craggy foothills. I stopped about 6:40 and took some shots just to have a tale to tell, but knew there had to be something better. Rounding a few 15mph corners, the valley to the south of Lake Cuyamaca opened up, with the still beauty of the waters posing as if for a postcard.

I spent dawn time there by the lake, with a few other hearty travelers passing by (one motorcyclist). Otherwise, still, cold and clear. Perfect!

After the sunrise, I had planned to scoot for Julian and familiar territory, but decided instead to head still higher into the mountains on Sunrise Hwy (S-1) to check out the hang glider launch precipice I recalled from so long ago - Kwimmee Point. I was sad to see several memorials there at the launch, and disappointed as well at the graffiti.

The sun was starting to warm things up a bit, and since I'd been jonesin' for a cup of Joe for miles & miles, it was time to do something about it. Old Man Sol was really low on the horizon, making for some blinding curves, but nothing deterred me from arriving safe & sound at the Blue Jay Lodge. Looked like I was the first customer of the day for Ms. Connie from Descanso who was friendly (and biker-friendly) as she could be. We chatted while I warmed up about back-country news mostly.

By the time I finished some coffee and eggs (sunny-side up if you please), local Earth temp was in the low 50's and I was heading south Japatul Valley Road. Sunrise Highway deserves a special mention here - the maps just don't do those wonderful sweepers justice! Smooth, fast, predictable asphalt, glory be thy name! ;-)

Now... I could very well have settled for that excellent bit of a morning ride and cruised I-8 for home, but my thrill-thirst to ride and explore was not yet sated - Hwy 79 turns into Japatul Valley Road south of the 8 and I knew that ultimately that would take me to Hwy 94 and homeward bound. JVR is a wonder, and it's kissin' cousin Lyon's Valley Road is just as good. There's NO substitute for morning rides without traffic. Jetted past the Barrett Honor Camp on LVR - need to look that up. Think it might be for "wayward youth..."

After nearly 5 hours on the road, I pulled back into the garage at home. Exhausted, but stoked for another great back-country "E-Ticket" ride on the F800GS barnstormer.

Rainy Anza Pictographs Run

2009-12-13T20:30:00.000-08:00

I almost wimped out on this glorious ride, so hat's off to Mark for holding my feet to the fire on this ride. Errr... well, it felt more like "waterboarding" I suppose. When I woke up at 6am, the rain was pelting the house and with visions of last nights wind advisory in the mountains, I texted Mark to say I was gonna do the responsible thing and wuss out. His one-word response spoke volumes: "OK".

Crawling back into a warm bed, I was still thinking about the ride but only on a different day. Mark was having none of that - his next text: "For someone who wants to ride to Alaska someday you're letting a little rain stop ya? It's gonna be a great day! It's only an hour ride to the desert." *sigh* He was right!

We had a short call and I was to meet him at 9am instead. I set off in chilly but scattered cloudy weather here in the city, but dressed to the hilt for warmth. Highland Valley road had puddles and mud to dodge, but slow and steady was the name of the game today. The rain started as we entered Ramona and there were nothing but dark clouds ahead. The going was slow, but the bikes felt pretty sure-footed on the tarmac. I'll be replacing the F8's tires in another month or so though.

Passing through Santa Ysabel, Wynola and Julian, the rain was steady, the chill deep (about 40 degrees), and the fog deeper. Really brutal and as miserable riding conditions as I'd been in since the Seattle Sabbatical 17 years earlier - good training ride, I thought, as if trying to pump myself up. Did I mention is was cold, cold, cold?!!

We'd agreed to just blast through Julian and continue down to the desert as fast as possible. Banner Grade in the rain was interesting - they call it a grade because it's steep and curvy I suppose. Ha! Once we straightened out, the bikes got their legs stretched a bit as we headed out S2 and passed the sign demarcating the Anza Borrego Desert State Park. Mark had been out this way a month ago and had been itchin' to take a dirt trail to the Indian Pictographs, but wanted an able-bodied sucka to go with him. Ummm... that would be me.

Turns out this was a GREAT destination, a really fun 8 mi ride on mostly hard-packed jeep road punctuated by puddles and some loose sand. Each of us nearly keeled over a couple of times on the big Adv bikes, but somehow kept them upright. The air was crisp and the rain had stopped. The heavy smell of wet creosote bush wafted into our nostrils; one of my favorite smells from the monsoon seasons spent in Tucson.

Probably the funniest, best story of the day trip had to be Mark turning his R1200GS into an "ark" of sorts. We'd been dipping the bikes into a few puddles as we made our way down the road and, feeling a little froggy, Mark steered the GSpot straight through the middle of one of dem dar puddles. The next thing I saw was his front wheel heading DOWN into the puddle instead of through it! The water was well over his cylinder heads and a huge wave of water splashed up from his "bow." He gunned the engine and plowed out of the puddle, but not before being drenched head to toe.

I laughed my ass off, neatly steering around the killer puddle, as he stopped his bike to assess the situation. Muddy water was dripping from all over, including from the top of his helmet. Crazy stuff; good stuff! Watch the "debrief" video here.

We made it to the Pictographs all right, and set about climbing off and stretching after nearly 2 cold hours on the iron steeds. Giddy happy, and proud of the way the bikes had performed for sure. As Mark wrung out his socks, I took some pics and surveyed the squall coming up the valley behind us. It was clearly going to be a rainy dirt ride back to S2. We decided to bring the kids back to this spot and actually hike to the Pictographs next time - neither of us were up for a mile hike in riding boots in the rain.

Heading back on the trail was just as much fun as heading in - picking your line, avoiding deep sand, only heading through water when absolutely necessary. Rain pelting, but that just added to the "aliveness" of the moment.

Ask me how I really felt about the cold rainy ride!

We decided to stop for coffee in Julian, but the weather was so lousy, we kept moving until Wynola when I pulled over to check out lunch at a bistro called Jeremy's. Much higher class than I expected, but food oh so good - highly recommended. Hey, any place that lets me hang the dirty Aerostich on their fancy coat rack goes to the front of the line in my book!

I should have stopped for gas in Ramona, but was late getting home as it was - pulled into the garage with an indicated 9 mi left on the tank. All I could see was the mud and grime of another excellent adventure.

H1N1 Done & Done

2009-12-13T20:29:00.000-08:00

Even though what we now know H1N1 is pretty much a fake epidemic, Kim and I had the opportunity to get the kids vaccinated last month, to the tune of about 4 hours waiting in line to be one of the "lucky 1000."

Because Em is under 8 though, she gets 2 snifters up the nose. Last Saturday, dear 'ol Dad (that's me) got up about 5am and, with coffee in hand, headed down to one of the Poway elementary schools. I figured getting there at 5:45 would put me damned close to the front, if not #1. Boy, was I wrong! Rain or not, there were scores of people ahead of me, and by 7am - 2 hours before the first shot would be administered - there were hundreds in line.

The good news is that, as with last time, making small talk with your neighbors is kind of fun. In November I chatted with a General Contractor for a couple of hours; this time I met Robert, a Biomedical Robotics Field Engineer. Whoa! I thought of some kind of bio weapon arthropod, but, well... the reality is that he fixes the machines that administer thousands of precise doses in samples at drug company labs around the Western U.S. Still damned cool.

Kim dropped Emily off about 30 minutes before we got to go in, her hair all disheveled from just having been awakened. We got 'er done and were off to the rest of Saturday - building a "sleigh" for our Scout den and watching the Wildcats lose badly to the San Diego State Aztecs. Still, we bought some piece of mind for the ladies in the household.

Twilight Run

2009-11-23T15:34:00.000-08:00

It started with a simple phone call last week from friend and fellow rider Mark. Asked whether he'd been riding lately, he remarked that he'd done a solo blast out to Ocotillo Wells recently, leaving S.D. at 3pm. Since Ocotillo is a helluva long ways out, and it's dark at 5pm these days, that was an interesting ride I thought and filed it away. Fast forward into our busy weekend lives and the only time either of us could break away was late afternoon. Thus, the "Twilight Run" was born!

Not to be outgunned by Ocotillo (although that sounds fun and we will do that!), the consensus was to head out to the foothills of the Laguna mountains, and trek along from Hwy 8 to Julian via Hwy 79. By the time we got to the Descanso turn-off to Hwy 79, it was 4:30 and the sun was fading quickly. We accelerated and took off, not wanting to waste even a precious glimmer of light. Fortunately, there was almost NO traffic and the 25 mi to Julian went by very quickly.

But oh so beautiful: The long shadows; deer in the meadows; crisp air; hum of the bikes and curves aplenty; headlights glancing off pavement, barely illuminating the curves ahead. While I wasn't worried about ice (yet), the bike thermo registered 40 degrees in some of the valleys. Yahoo - that's bracing!

By the time we hit Julian, it was dark with residents and visitors alike clutching their jackets about them and scurrying for the indoors. The town was adorned with white Christmas lights already, making a pretty sight. A line of people waiting for pies at the Julian Pie Company stared as we drove by, perhaps shuddering as they imagined the wind chill factor on the bikes. I was pretty committed to getting some soup and a cup of coffee, so we cruised through the 4-way stop in the center of town on to Bailey's BBQ.

Bailey's smelled great walking through the door, an concerto of spareribs, beans, coffee, and wonderful hot coffee. A few couples and families looked up as we walked inside with our riding suits, but turned back to their own meals quickly. Mark and I talked of light subjects and future travels on the bikes - Tombstone or Utah anyone?

Then it was time to jet. Bodies warmed nicely, we stepped out into the ever-chilling night air for the dark ride home. Heading down the hill, rounding corners, trees lining the road, stars and new moon blazing. Very little traffic, and though "inky black," our pace was brisk. By the time we scooted through Ramona leaning into the curves of the tarmac past Archie Moore road it was still getting colder, but home was close.

Mark gave a quick wave as we parted. I rolled in to Buckwheat Manor, immensely satisfied with my first Twilight Run. As I entered the house, the kids ran into my arms making the night rave even better!

Oceanside Pier Fishing with the Scouts

2009-10-15T10:46:00.000-07:00

Practically nothing stirs a boy or girls heart with excitement more than the promise dealt by fishing: luring a floppy sea or lake beast to snatch at a hook and dragging said fishie to the surface against her will. It's a thrashy frenetic time for the fish and kid alike when the scaly, googly-eyed creature finally breaks the surface. "What the hell?!" no doubt top of mind for the fish!

We took to famous Oceanside Pier last weekend to rent sea-faring poles and try our luck. Etho and sister Emily were looking forward to the challenge. It was a breezy afternoon,warm, and the Pier was crowded. We rented poles and bought the bait suggested by the shop proprietor - in this case Squid. Meanwhile the kids were scolded by a homeless dude for messing with the pigeons; I decided to let that be a life lesson...

As the only one who had a pocket knife on him, I was nominated to be the bait cutter. Soon all had poles in the water, some 40 feet below. While the grizzled vets were pulling Mackerel in around our merry band, we were drawing blanks. For awhile... Finally one of the boys landed one after about 30 minutes! Every other kid leaned the poles against the railing to go take a look, then went back to redouble their own efforts.

The girls were mostly prancing about and I wasn't paying too much attention until Em and Tina bounded up with Squid tails sleeved on to their thumbs - who woulda thunk it?! Giggling, bloodthirsty lasses. Good training I thought for later life- ha!

As the afternoon wore on, another couple of fishies were hauled to the surface by our crew, but a little fatigue set in as the shadows grew longer. The girls shifted their attention to a dead fish one of the many Filipino families had been using for bait ( hacking meat out of it as needed). Pretty soon they were waving it around like a trophy and poking at it's glassy eyeballs. Fun stuff, that stiff fish.

Everyone had worked up an appetite so we asked for a local recommendation and landed at Las Colimas, a fast sit-down Mexi place about 2 blocks from the Pier. Cheap and didn't seem to look askance at 8 or so loud kids.

It was a good day for me - relaxing with minimal "referee" work with the kids. But best of all was the note Ethan wrote me on my iPhone afterwards: "Hi dad thank you for helping me fish today i loved it besides the part when Emily put the bloody fish in my hair. I can't believe Emily keeps a pet squid in her pocket."

Warms my heart - whether we caught a fish or not.

(blogged from Sky Harbor airport via iPhone)

Late Night at the La Rue's

2009-10-09T01:16:00.001-07:00

The Macs are humming, my eyes are bloodshot. Definitely time to turn in after a Scout meeting and hours of work on Nik Software business. Making my way slowly up the stairs, my first stop (as always) is to check on the kids.

They are peaceful; fast asleep. Softly breathing. Bella the Vizsla is curled up at Emily's feet. Ethan is lazily stretched out, on the verge of snoring. Though beat down by life and work, I'm cognizant of how blessed my life is... these living souls are connected with mine, never to be severed.

Football - A Photographer's Update

2009-09-14T23:06:00.000-07:00

My son Ethan is enjoying his new-found football "career." The boys on the 2009 Rancho Penasquitos "Stampede" team are - as a whole - a good bunch of young men with a decent work ethic and desire to win. Their record stands at 1-2 after this weekend where they scored on a long pass/run-after-catch of 35 yards or more. The boys were ecstatic. Here's the video of that TD play shot by team videographer Harry Huang.

As team photographer (using borrowed gear from either Nik Software or Tony Corbell), I'm privileged to hang out on the sidelines happily snapping away and trying to get the best shots I can muster. A few sports photography tips from the trenches:

Much as I hate to admit, there's no substitute for a big lens. For instance, Tony's 300mm Tamron will do quite nicely thank you.
Snap a lot of shots, but pare down mercilessly back on the computer.
Our games are usually in the broad daylight so far, and I've been shooting in Aperture mode at f-stop 2.8 - either the Tamron or the Nikkor 70-200mm 2.8 VR (a sweet lens).
High-speed crop mode - if ya got it, flaunt it baby!
Position, position, position. The first game, I was reluctant to swing over to the opponent's side of the field. But half the game the ball was positioned on the hash mark closest to the "bad guys." By the second game, I was roaming far and wide, including on field during the coin toss. That leetle "Photo Pass" the Team Mom gives me is pure gold, man!
Behind the scenes and candids - I arrive 90 minutes early with Etho to get pics of the boys warming up and weighing in, shots of the coaches, and "scene-setting" images. I don't know all the boys, so I just shoot away hoping that by the end of the season I'll have a good mix of each boy (candids, game shots, etc.)
I am pretty serious about getting a mix of offense, defense and special team shots the first half so I have those covered. At halftime, I'm shooting candid pics of the boys sucking down oranges and listening to adjustments by the coaches. The second half, I follow every play with the lens, and try to mix in some artsy shots too.
Looking for "grit" - I love the shots of struggle, boy vs. boy locked in battle. You know, shots my homeys Alex and Jon will dig, taking them back to their H.S. days when powering over some puny lineman and questing for the QB ruled their days and earned bragging rights the following week.
Coaches - I try not to miss the opportunity to get a good shot of the coaches doing their thing - talking to a Zebra, holding up a dry-erase board with the play, motivating the boys to play their best.
Post-processing (you knew it was coming) - There are a lot of ways to skin a cat (I suppose); here is my take: I use Capture NX 2 from Nikon to review and rate the images as either a 4 or 5. The pics that are rated a 4 mean that later on I will just batch resize them and post to my favorite photo-sharing site, SmugMug. If they are a 5, that means I'm going to take a shot at enhancing them. NX 2 is smooth because it handles the native NEF files shot from the Nikon D2X or D3 (my faves) so well. The RAW conversion is quick, and then the program invites you to subtly enhance or get crazy-creative. In the latter mood, I often turn to the Color Efex Pro 3.0 for NX2 photographic filters to either draw attention to the action or create a completely artistic scene.

It's all a blast and I hope the team keeps "calling my number" for their photography! Now, enjoy a few pics - it's Game Time!

The Great Sausage Caper

2009-08-09T22:03:00.000-07:00

I knew for weeks before arriving in Ohio for the 2009 edition of the La Rue family reunion – a tradition dating back over 30 years – that there would be a considerable amount of work to go along with the reminiscing and merriment of the weekend. The “Left Coast” La Rue family had traveled in some 6 days before the Saturday, July 4 festivities, and it was a fine, trouble-free ride.

The “work” to which I’m referring is not so much labor, but a labor of love: the making of venison sausage or, to my eyes, “The Great Sausage Caper" (since I knew at the end of all this I was gonna steal some delicious meat!)

Dad (Carl) and I began early on Monday morning with a ritual my hunter-sister later called “processing.” Basically we were carving meat off the leg bones of a deer, making sure it was free of any freezer burn that might have crept into the meat or hair that might still be remaining to lodge in the unsuspecting teeth of an innocent eater. Afterwards, we cut it into grinder-sized chunks. It was a tedious process to yield the best meat, but easy conversation and a light mental energy task carried the next 3-4 hours well…

Before grinding could commence, Dad’s recipe called for mixing the venison with pork sausage, to give the whole concoction a little fat and lots more flavor. The commercial-quality grinder shone with power and purpose on the worktable. The threads were coarse, most likely for machine longevity and ease of cleaning. At the top of the grinder was a tray that allowed us to move venison, pork and curing agent into the round maw of the feeding hole. Emily delighted in pushing the meat-mixture into the hole with a plastic pole, and seeing the resulting stringy mixture of raw meat poke out from a screen in the machine’s side.

This mixture was pressed into rectangular baking pans and then compacted with as much force as possible and sealed by smooth butcher paper. Dad explained that he wanted the meat to properly cure and that the way to do that was to have it compacted to the point of molecularly bonding - I almost called “BS” at the term “molecular” until I realized that’s what it was probably doing. As it turns out, we ended up kneading the mixture by surgical-gloved hands 2 times a day for 3 straight days, so I had a lot of time to think about it.

Did I mention we kneaded this concoction 2 times a day? Egads that meat was cold, but our mission was clear – mix, mix and mix again to the point of molecular bonding (that’s just darned fun to say!).

After the kneading/curing process, it was time to stuff the meat into casings. Once again we turned to a machine. Dad would hold the casing bag – conveniently pre-labeled with the words “Venison Sausage” – tight against a tube, while I fed meat into a top-mounted cylinder and cranked a “piston” down to squeeze the highly compressed mixture into the sausage tube. Dad had poked a few holes in each bag to allow moisture to ooze out. Once a bag was full, we crimped the end with a u-shaped metal clip.

When we finished, 14 tubes of sausage lay on the table. I took pride in cleaning the equipment and washing down the table so that Dad didn’t have to bother himself with mundane “housekeeping” work.

The next day was “smoking day”, which I greatly looked forward to: basically 14 hours tending a fire to cook and smoke the meat.

Here’s how we did it: A dozen years ago or so, Dad rigged up an old Frigidaire refrigerator on top of a small hill behind the barn. He had dug a trench up the hill and laid a pipe up underneath the fridge. At the bottom of the hill was an enclosed fire-pit. The smoke from the fire-pit rises up the pipe and into the refrigerator, helped along by two draws cut into the top of the appliance (one of which was controllable by wire from the bottom of the hill).

Dad got up at dawn to start the fire and hang the meat from racks in the fridge. He woke me an hour later. The fuel was a mixture of sassafras, apple and maple wood, stored in a small woodshed next to the chicken coop. The smoke smelled great. Occasionally it rained slightly at times during the day, but that did not detract from the mission: 170 degrees steady!

As I said, I looked forward to the day because there would be no distractions from the job. I read Sherlock Holmes, wrote a bit on the Mac, watched the rain for awhile, and chatted with anyone who wandered by. Ethan busied himself tending a burn pile nearby, and driving around on the Kawasaki Mule (a four-wheeled vehicle with a tilting dump bed). Sister Dana, brother in law Bob and their family showed up. Dad supervised every once and awhile, and we all stayed well lubricated with rum & cokes.

Long about twilight, Dad and I opened up the fridge door for the first time and stuck a meat thermometer in some of the casings. The internal temperatures in the neighborhood of 152 degrees (give or take) seemed great and it was time to test the meaty fruits of our labors. Whoa… delicious. Not to say I was surprised, but I was…well, surprised. It was hot and flavorful.

We cooled the sausage by spraying it down and then moved it back into the barn to cut and wrap in butcher paper again, ready to dole out. So… the “Caper” comes to a close: I myself brought a few sticks home and am enjoying venison regularly, metering it out to stretch the goodness.

Thanks for the education, Dad!

Fan Voyeurism of the Highest Order

2009-07-20T20:14:00.000-07:00

I recently received an email from one of my all-time favorite bands, Marillion. They have been playing their own style of rock - some would say it ranges from progressive to pop - for over 30 years. While not an stadium-filling kind of ensemble, Marillion are undoubtedly popular and fill venues worldwide with music-hungry fans.

Fifteen million albums sold, sharing the stage with Queen, a catalog with literally scores of songs, and more world tours than you can shake a stick at is nothing to look down upon.

After being introduced to the band in Tucson in 1986 by Herman Brau, a guy Rob Schumacher and I met the previous year in London whilst back-packing through Europe after college, I quickly fell in love with the style, the lyrics and the cadence (if you will) of the band. They drew upon influences like Genesis, Camel, and the Beatles; later Radiohead and others. They are on their second singer, who joined the band in the late 1980's. Singer Steve Hogarth took some getting used to, but brought a more "poppy" influence and certainly a greater sense of social and environmental sensitivity that did their previous singer Fish.

Still, the standout for me has to be Steve Rothery, one of the most soulful rock guitarists of his own right I've ever heard. Read an interview from Classic Rock Blog here. Plus, he races Porsches in his spare time! Seriously though, his solos are to die for. Click here for a listen to a great song called "Neverland" that features the full measure of the band.

KLR and Pete Trewavas (bassist) & Steve Rothery (lead guitarist) at the LA "listening party"

I've seen Marillion a few times, interviewed their keyboardist Mark Kelly, attended a "listening party" in LA, joined their "Front Row Club", and even participated as an early contributor to the Internet fund-raising North American fans conducted in the late '90's to help fund the band's tour here in N.A. All of it - including the fan-funded tour - has stretched into a marvelous experience and I think perhaps the inspiration for their forward-thinking approach to using the Internet to connect directly with their fans. As such, over the years they've added some great staff like Lucy Jordache and Erik Neilson (to name but two) to handle the website, promotions, tour planning, ordering, etc. and well as linked up with video producers The Boom-Boom Boys to create some killer DVDs.

Which brings us back to the aforementioned email announcing Episode #1 of "Racket TV" (Play now on the Marillion YouTube channel) The bands' homespun practice place and recording studio is called the Racket Club. This first episode begins the chronicle of the making of their next album, which will be an acoustic "re-rendering" of many of their earlier songs (and maybe a few new ones) called "L=M" (or Less equals More).

I, for one, am hoping for a band rendition of "Maybe I'm Amazed" by Paul McCartney). The interview with bass guitarist Pete Trewavas is cool as are the clips from the studio floor filled with all manner of interesting musical goodies.

L=M is promised this fall; you can bet this rabid fan will be checking out every Racket TV video and will be most assuredly pre-ordering!

"It's All Fer Me Grog..."

2009-07-12T18:32:00.000-07:00

Anytime someone asks for a campfire song, I can't help but think back to one of the more formative times of my youth: Outward Bound Colorado.

The time was the summer I graduated from Sabino high school and to commemorate the achievement my mom and dad asked if I wanted anything special. In very short order, I'd replied that going to Outward Bound would be a terrific life experience. Plans were quickly set in motion to attend.

I hopped a flight to Denver the day after school ended and was off on a strenuous trek where we spent some 3-weeks above 14,000 feet in the Rockies. One of the trail songs that I recall we sang a lot went a like this:

Well it's all for me grog, me jolly jolly grog
It's all for me beer and tobacco
For I spent all me tin with the lassies drinking gin
Far across the western ocean I must wander

The trouble is, I'm sure there were more lyrics but can't for the life of me recall any. I mean, we sang that bloody song for days on end! Maybe it's time for a deep hypnotic trance, or... GOOGLE!

A ten-second search on the first line of the song and I'm listening to "It's all for me grog" on the site Irish-Song-Lyrics.com. Well... blow me down! Unbelievable. Click here to listen to a lo-fi streaming version of the whole song below... Thanks Google (and Marc Gunn) - I'm complete now...

"It's All For Me Grog"
Background: Traditional sea shanty and a rousing drinking!
Chords: KEY D

Well it's all for me grog, me jolly jolly grog
It's all for me beer and tobacco
For I spent all me tin with the lassies drinking gin
Far across the western ocean I must wander

Where are me boots, me noggin', noggin' boots?
They're all gone for beer and tobacco
For the heels they are worn out and the toes are kicked about
And the soles are looking out for better weather

Where is me shirt, my noggin', noggin' shirt?
It's all gone for beer and tobacco
For the collar is all worn, and the sleeves they are all torn
And the tail is looking out for better weather

I'm sick in the head and I haven't been to bed
Since first I came ashore with me slumber
For I spent all me dough on the lassies movin' slow
Far across the Western Ocean I must wander

Where is me bed, me noggin' noggin bed
It's all gone for beer and tobacco
Well I lent it to a whore and now the sheets are all tore
And the springs are looking out for better weather.

Where is me wench, me noggin' noggin' wench
She's all gone for beer and tobacco
Well her (clap) is all worn out and her (clap) is knocked about
And her (clap) is looking out for better weather.

Red Barchetta

2009-07-08T20:28:00.000-07:00

Those of you familiar with the Canadian powerhouse trio Rush will no doubt recall a sonic gem of theirs from 2 decades ago called “Red Barchetta.” The name refers to a famous classic sports car built by Ferrari, but later was also the name for a lame Fiat drive. The former car earned its stripes by being fast and sexy.

The lyrics of most all of Rush’ songs, penned by drummer god Neil Peart, have often strayed – strike that – plunged into glorious sci-fi epics, which endeared the band to many free-thinking youth over the last 30+ years. Red Barchetta was a song on their "Moving Pictures" album about one such young man living in a distant future age where socialism at least and fascism at most reigned. It was also, as an entry in Wikipedia described it, a “post-petroleum future in which the ‘primitive’ gasoline-burning sports cars are prohibited by ‘the Motor Law.’” A controlling society, the youth were compelled to rebel in ways that the State could only hope to contain by vigorous use of the police.

This particular boy would escape to his “Uncle’s country place that no one knew about” and drive a perfectly preserved Ferrari every few weeks. One such time took immense effort to realize a narrow escape from the robotic “alloy air car” minions of the totalitarian society in which he was irresistibly trapped.

While on vacation in Ohio last week, I was delighted to learn that my father had his own version of an older exotic foreign sports car – red, of course – for me to drive: a well-preserved, daily driver of a convertible 1991 Jaguar XJ-S, V-12. Huzzah! This baby purrs… but also roars when pressed.

The ’91 makes 318 horsepower under a longish hood, replete with muscular lines arcing down to a fine pair of headlights. The switchgear, I would say is customarily British…which is to say that a reasonably intelligent American driver can figure out about 95% of what is needed; the other 5% is anyone’s guess.

To fire up that glorious 12-cylinder engine, one turns the key and an array of lights glow up the walnut wood dash. After a few seconds electric fuel pump whine, the engine roars to life, then settles into a soft exhaust burble directed with authority out two gleaming tailpipes.

My wife Kim and I had the pleasure of taking the Jag to Amish country, where the car drew an unexpected amount of attention amongst mini-vans, Honda sedans and – dare I say? – buggies. The weather was not too cooperative, raining off and on during the day; just enough to force top-up driving. Still, even at speeds approaching 100mph (dancing with a Mini Cooper S), the cabin noise was minimal.

Handling was good for a heavy luxury-touring convertible, but compared to my Miata M of a few years ago – a veritable go-kart – it was heavy to steer and rolled over on bulbous tires.

We capped off a day of driving on twisty two-lane country roads and antiquing with a pretty good Italian meal at a restaurant in Zanesville, a town made famous as the birthplace of famed Western author Zane Gray. Now Zane would have appreciated the risks our futuristic youth took to escape the suburbs of his youth for the wide-open countryside in his Uncle’s Red Barchetta.

Camping & Football Father's Day

2009-06-22T23:46:00.000-07:00

Father's Day 2009 will go down as an especially sweet one indeed; several things conspired to make it so:

iPhone 3GS - she'd ignored several of my not-so-subtle hints, so it was entirely unclear whether wife Kim would agree to me joining the "cult of the iPhone" when I called her last Friday. Two work colleagues had shiny new phones on their desks and reported the line was only 20 minutes at the Apple Store Fashion Valley!

I called Kim from my formerly state-of-the-art BlackBerry and pressed the point, asking "Can I go get one dear?" (and trying ever so hard to keep the desperation out of my voice). She drove a hard deal: Birthday gift and Christmas 2008 gift which I'd never cashed in on. Ouch! Still, the smart phone has got plenty of giddy up!

Hurkey Creek Motorcycle Camp - It's long been a goal of mine to test out the F800GS on a short "shake-down" camping trek. Well... this weekend I ticked that one of the 'ol checklist with an overnighter up at Hurkey Creek County Park near Lake Hemet with my good friend Mark "DL650" Myers. We left from Mark's place in Rancho Bernardo about 1pm on Saturday, taking almost exactly the same route I had back in Nov. 2008, heading towards Idyllwild, CA.

After jaunting through Ramona, Santa Ysabel, Warner Springs, Aguanga, and Anza we found ourselves at a park hopping with families and friends camping for the holiday weekend. Awesome riding too numerous to mention (OK, ya twisted my arm: the 6 miles on 371 from Anza to the Pines-to-Palms turn-off are spectacular in their twistyness, as is the Lake Hemet-to-Idyllwild blast). Plus all the riding to get there! ;-) Enjoy some pics.

What - No action shots??!!

Ethan Mows the Lawn - Perhaps it was sheer glee at seeing me home again safely, or a Father's Day gift from a cool young man, but the most amazing thing happened about an hour after getting home from the camp: Completely of his own volition, Etho came outside to help me with the yardwork! OMG - the boy is growing up.

Yahoo! Finally some help in the yard!

Dads vs. the Boys - In preparation for the upcoming Rancho Penasquitos "Stampede" Junior Pee Wee Pop Warner football season, the league is holding weekly 2-hour conditioning clinics in June and July. In August the pace cranks up to 5/week - whoa!

For Father's Day, the coaches decided that an hour of conditioning, followed by an hour of 2-hand touch ball with the Dad's would be a good idea. Right they were! On the field of glory that is the Westview Wolverines home stadium (artificial turf and proper running track and all); on this one Sunday afternoon, 2 sets of men came together in heated battle. The brash upstarts vs. the seeming giants of the field: the DADS. The boys played valiantly, but "age & guile baby!"

Fun playing on a "real" field!

The weekend ended with a dandy family dinner at Sammy's Woodfired Pizza, a last splurge for a weekend already engorged with good times.

PS: And last but certainly not least, Carl La Rue (my dad) is recovering nicely from having partial right knee replacement surgery - hope he'll be up and about when we get there for the 2009 Family Reunion in 6 short days! (Hi Pop!)

Fail Blog

2009-06-12T20:16:00.000-07:00

Hands down my favorite new irony-is-comedy site on the web is www.failblog.org. A community site that crowdsources idiocy from around the world, failblog is an unending ribbon of social inanity. You know, like this one:

See what I mean? This is quality. OK, how about another?

Ouch - and her parents will wonder about that pole-dancing hobby at age 14. ;-) Here's another goodie:

You get the idea... If you happen to have a few minutes to surf, paddle on over to www.failblog.org and hang ten on some giggles.

Credit: Thanks Morneé Sherry for sharing this gem with me...

MVRTV Takes on the F800GS

2009-05-09T22:54:00.000-07:00

Over the past week or so I've been taking in an excellent video review of the F800GS on YouTube. It was shot by Bill Wolf of "Motorcycle Video Review" with a cool helmet cam. I love this angle because you experience exactly what he sees when he sees it.

Starting at the Fall North American BMW press intro of the bike, Bill goes a step further and continues the "real-world" review on his journey home. He takes in some amazing back-roads in Utah and Colorado, and narrates them with the ease of a seasoned rider.

What a great adventure and all done solo! In many of the comments, Bill said the whole task of editing was grueling but the comments he's received since posting in February makes it all worth the effort.

Did I mention this is an 8-parter?! All of the segments weigh in over 9 minutes meaning I will have basically been watching an entire MOVIE on the F800GS by the time I'm done - wahoo! ;-)

My favorite episodes thus far were number 6 & number 7 where Bill says, "I don't even know where I am; I don't care its awesome..." For the record, where he was is absolutely gorgeous riding for big and heavy dual-sport bikes: dirt roads through the forests, small water crossings, rocky patches where the torque of the F800GS shines. All the while, a near-constant well-considered narrative that illuminates both the ride and spirit of adventure touring.

How about the quote "when they find my body, please tell my wife it was a GREAT ride! And make sure you tell her I love her as well - ummm... you get in trouble if you don't do that!" ;-)

During episode 7, the temperature cruised past 42.8 degrees on it's way into the 30's - you can tell when he talks, he's got that cold speech slur. And... the GPS read 11, 385 feet elevation which is nothing to sneeze at (or maybe it is!).

Mr. Wolf is a master of the inspirational one-liner: "Nothing better than being nowhwere." Another gem of a quote. "Good steering when you're standing." Also seems like knobby tires are the way to go - he's really sure-footed off road. When Mark Myers and I went up Nate Harrison Grade (on Palomar Mtn), I was really nervous about traction on my "Conti Battlewings."

Another great quote: "It's time for a headlight test" (yes, he's riding at night late in episode 7) and "I could do without the rocks at night...just think - if I make a mistake you'll get to see it and...well, I'll get to feel it."

View Episode 7

As I write this, episode 8 isn't on YouTube yet (#7 was uploaded about 3 weeks ago). I can safely say however that many of us anxiously await a safe outcome and Bill's final thoughts on our favorite bike.

Tap-tapping Away

2009-04-19T22:17:00.000-07:00

My lovely daughter Emily was in the Canyon View Elementary School talent show recently, preceded by a "flag ceremony" in which my son Ethan participated along with other Scouts in his Pack. Sadly... due to work travel, I was not there to witness either.

Anecdotally, I hear the Scouts did an admirable job and - God willing - will be invited back next year.

More than just storytelling though, herewith find ye evidence that Emily can tap her little fanny off. And to the Stray Cats to boot! Take it away, Em...

Epic Commemorative Ride

2009-04-05T19:41:00.000-07:00

Legend has it that 31 years ago, an erstwhile BMW rider named John Hermann was thwacked off his cycle by drunken "Injuns" whilst traversing the Barona Indian Reservation on Wildcat Canyon road.

The aforementioned Mr. Hermann, who was later named a "Friend of the Marque" after more than a million miles on BMW motorcycles, recalls said thwacking being accomplished by none other than a good 'ol fashioned 2x4 plank. I suspect an ass-whupping followed, but we'll have to get the rest of the story from John.

A million miles and counting!

Today ensued the Annual Wildcat Canyon Ride in which a great number of riders cruise through the reservation following Hermann's route of yore. I counted about 40-50 riders who left Giovanni's restaurant on Clairemont Mesa, en route to Fat Ivor's rib joint in Valley Center via Palomar Mountain. Loads of Beemers, plus a Norton, some Ducati's and a Cagiva. Yee-haw!!

Cool old "Steib" sidecar on an R90 (at Giovanni's). I later saw the bike at the Hideaway

With a couple of stop lights separating the group, I soon found myself hanging with 3 other riders, all on R1200GS's. They set a sprightly pace on the highway, but once we got to the twisties I hung back to keep an eye on a fella who didn't seem to know the road too well. The wind was blasting out there - gusts of at least 20-30mph kept us on our toes.

After the nice clean curves of Wildcat Canyon, we picked up Old Julian Hwy where I was passed with authority by the Ducati rider and a guy on a K-bike & sidecar (of all things!). Picking up 78 at the end of Old Julian, we flew through my favorite curves to a brief respite at Dudley's bakery. Having an apple turnover there in my Aerostich suit brought back floods of memories riding with Rod Baine & Jon Wright oh so long ago (well... early 90's). I snapped some photos, taking my time to savor the moment, then put a splash of gas in the F800GS before moving out to glorious Mesa Grande.

The gas stop meant everyone in the group was ahead of me - which turned out to be awesome! Mesa Grande was clean and clear. The bike and I were - forgive the trite expression - "one with the road." Leaning, accelerating, darting, up on the pegs over cattle guards, windscreen and face-shield pelted by leetle insects. All senses firing. The smells of the mountain meadows wafted. Slowed for the dirty corner that took out Jon on his VFR, and then into the tree-lined lane down the mountain to the Hideaway. Not a single car in front of me the entire time. OMG.

Me on Palomar Mountain, next to the Post Office

Not seeing anyone from the group yet, I knew they were up at Mother's Kitchen on Palomar, so I kept going... The East Grade up Palomar was superb. Again, a bit windy at the bottom by Lake Henshaw, but clean and clear of traffic. It was a 14-mile, twisty blast to the top with NOBODY in front of me. Incredible luck!

Not just any given Sunday... Mother's Kitchen with a lot of Beemers

The gang was very definitely at the top, kicking tires, drinking some coffee and looking forward to a smooth ride down the very intensely twising South Grade and ribs in Valley Center.

Artsy parking sign at Mother's

Not knowing exactly where the restaurant was, I snapped into a group of 4 riders and motored down via Valley Center road by Harrah's Rincon Casino, then by Bates Nut Farm, and finally to Fat Ivor's where the "King of the Alps" was holding court and signing official-looking certificates. I have another certificate from about a dozen years ago, but this one seemed sweeter.

The pulled pork sandwich sitting nicely in my gut, I finally broke loose of the wonderful food vortex that is Fat Ivor's and scooted for home, still keyed up, and a bit worn out and sore in the shoulders. I'd covered a load of miles, quickly, on a beautiful Spring Sunday in San Diego County. Truly epic ride.

Whither the Talking Moose?

2009-03-28T20:44:00.000-07:00

Back to the Golden Age: OSS Ecosystem Fueled by the Internet, New and Better Development Tools

By Kevin La Rue, November 30, 2005

Lately, I've been feeling a little nostalgic about what I call the "golden age" of consumer software innovation in the late '80s and early '90s. Back then I was cutting my teeth at a medium-sized Mac software publisher called Silicon Beach Software that had a few early successes and that also saw a fair number of applications plied by smaller developers wanting Silicon Beach to publish their software.

As a product manager, I recall my excitement at the number of cool software applications that were hitting the scene, be they commercial, shareware, or freeware. Innovation was happening everywhere around us as both big companies and one-man shops were looking at their crystal balls trying to figure out what the next "killer app" would be. Anyone remember PageMaker, SuperPaint, MORE, QuickKeys, HyperCard, Morph, or Printshop? And who could forget that adorable sage, the Talking Moose?

Just when I'm lamenting that the "good ol' days" are gone, I look around and realize that, if anything, the pace of software innovation has gone stratospheric. The open source community - fueled by online collaboration, advancements in development tools, and open standards - is out-innovating and surely outproducing even that beloved golden age, driving desktop Linux adoption forward.

You can't read a tech magazine or RSS feed today without seeing a discussion of the strides that the open source software (OSS) movement is making or its potential to reshape the computing landscape. Much of the OSS buzz comes from highly visible projects like Firefox (www.getfirefox.com), GIMP (http://gimp.org), and SugarCRM (http://sugarcrm.com), which have done so much more than provide great alternative software choices; they've opened people's eyes to the kinds of quality software that can be developed communally.

A glance at SourceForge (http://sourceforge.net), a large repository of open source software projects, recently showed more than 100,000 collaborative projects underway. That's an incredible number, and a testament to the Internet's power to support sustained communication between a like-minded community of people.

Besides the OSS ecosystem fueled by the Internet, innovation is being stoked by new and better development tools arriving on the scene. Tools like Kdevelop (http://kdevelop.org) are popular, as are commercial environments like Sun's Java Studio (http://sun.com/javastudio), Real Software's REALbasic (http://realsoftware.com), and Revelation's OpenInsight for Linux (http://revelation.com).

Innovation is also sped along by a communal vibe that application data types really should be based on open standards because it's the right thing to do. Despite differences in GUI or feature sets, data can and should be shared effortlessly between platforms.

Who gains from all this innovation? At the end of the day, we as computer users gain the most. We get more choices and a larger stable of innovative, nicely polished software applications that ultimately are critical to the widespread adoption of desktop Linux. In fact, after more than three years of running desktop Linux, I can say I'm totally satisfied except for one thing: I miss my old buddy the Talking Moose.

PS: this is a reprint of an article written for an open-source publication when I was with Linspire. Just found it on the Web!

Midway Madness

2009-03-27T19:17:00.000-07:00

It had been nearly a year in the planning (Thank you Marie Weir!), but the day had finally come - the Cub Scout "camp-out" on the U.S.S. Midway aircraft carrier.

Whoa. This ship had seen action in Korea, Vietnam, the first Gulf War, and boatloads (pun intended) of missions without public name. A serious boat which, when fully loaded, had more than 4,500 soldiers on board. The boat that help evacuate Saigon. The boat that fired the first missile on Baghdad. The boat that took on Pack 621 (and survived!). Now those are some impressive credentials. ;-)

We stepped on to the decks (they call it "mustering") about 4:45 on a Friday. Pack 621 fielded nearly 40 souls. Giddy kids and giddy adults. Once on board the hanger deck with our gear, there was an orientation talk by the docents and then bunk assignments before dinner.

Mustering...

Bunks were 3-high, but we were only allowed in the bottom two (wise rule for us old guys). The kids were loving it, but all I could think about was (a) how narrow the height and (b) how the h*ll I was going to squeeze into the middle bunk! It's harder than it looks, though with practice...

Yummy... generic food served by the hands of those who shall remain nameless!

Eating in the galley was a big thing for me; I dunno why. There was just something wicked cool about having a steel tray with slop on it, slopped on by unseen men with their sloppy gloved hands. Food never tasted so good, despite the mechanical smell all about. I'm told the room we ate in used to be a weapons assembly room.

During the first night, we were able to fly simulators, tour the ship in a neat scavenger hunt which included the "crypto" room, visit the Admiral's planning room and visit both the flight deck control tower and the ship control tower. One dealt with the planes; the other with all other matters of ship & fleet.

The Crypto Room w/ pneumatic pipes carrying messages of import

Map of Baghdad - looking at first strike targets, Day One of Desert Storm

Overnight was a late one. The boys were so stoked about chatting with one another and cruising around the dark ship with their flashlights ("but we were only going to the head!"), that when I finally fell asleep at 1am (lightweight), many were still up. And... there's rumors about some dads exploring some places that I can't and won't retell on the open Internet! ;-)

The next morning we got up early, mustered with all our gear to the hanger desk again, ate heartily, heard stories of the Midway's role in the evacuation of Saigon, cruised around on the flight deck, and then "drove" some more simulators. The boys were ecstatic as near as I could tell.

All told, I would heartily recommend the Midway, both as a tour and as an overnight destination. At $85/camper it wasn't cheap, but how many of us can say we've slept on a freakin' aircraft carrier!!

The Business Swarm

2009-03-05T19:48:00.001-08:00

I've always approached trade shows at face value: hang out a shingle and roll the dice as to who swings by to see what ya have to offer. Then maximize that encounter.

Oh sure, set some meetings (trying to limit the number who are trying to sell YOU) but also spend time fully focused on what's in front of you too...

Take the WPPI and PMA shows I just attended. Back-to-back Las Vegas trips; one end-user focused and the other more reseller/trade partner oriented. The former was a friendly rollicking fun show with people genuine in their hunger to learn more. Sales were pretty much snap decisions. The latter was slower, and one whose success will likely be measured in the days and weeks to come.

I met with some many resellers this week looking for ways to expand their business (hey, software is high margin, says I!). Also spent some time with some cool guys from Peachpit who are maybe interested in penning a book about Nik Software tools. Canada continues to dominate my radar too. I call this the "swarm approach:" take all comers.

All of this will take some work to close or otherwise derive benefit from. Well... guess that's why they pay me the BIG BUCKS! ;-) LOL

Disc Golf Rules!

2009-02-28T20:27:00.000-08:00

Earlier this month while at the Scouts "Roundtable" meeting, an innocuous flier was on the table near the entrance. It called to me though... stirring a spirit from the way back days: "Free Disc Golf Clinic", sponsored by the Youth Disc Golf Association (YDGA). I knew then that the boys needed to experience the coolness of disc golf (AKA "frisbee golf" to the unitiated!).

I sent the message out to Pack 621 and announced it at our monthly meeting. Still... only 4 boys accepted the challenge - the rest will come to learn what they missed! LOL. The course we were to play was in San Marcos, and I found it it was fairly recent - only about 18 months old.

The YDGA folks, as well as members of the San Diego Aces, a competitive disc golf team, were as friendly as they could be. Cold water, plenty of discs, and an approach to teaching the kids that was genuine, fun and informative.

After just 20 minutes of rules, practice, and Q&A, the boys trudged off towards Hole #1, a 150 footer with a ditch just to one side of the hole. I was proud of Ethan and his friends, open and eager to learn.

Discs for disc golf come in a wide variety of weights and aerobatic properties. There are discs for driving, mid-range, putting, for flying around trees, and more.

A couple of the instructors had bags holding a dozen or more specialized discs. Here's a picture of a full-on kit.

After the boys were on the 4th tee or so, several parents went out with one of the instructors who was quite skilled and taught us the ropes as well. He had a wicked drive and a throwing technique on one hole where the disc literally knife-edged it's way between two trees to drop within a few yards of the chains.

Oh, so a little about the "chains": The holes are actually posts with a tulip-shaped series of hanging chains that do a decent job of trapping the discs when hit properly. Or, in many cases, they can be tricky little chains of denial, swatting away even the most skilled players' flying putters.

The boys seemed to love the whole experience, recounting different holes and shots over a sub sandwich later. I think this is a fire that can be stoked...

Wind Chill Factor ZERO

2009-02-04T22:14:00.000-08:00

"!$#@%!%#$^%$#!! Damn it's bloody cold," I mutter, easing the throttle of my F800GS on and accelerating up from Buckwheat Manor. Clear, but cool.

Today it's the carpool lane for me, which means a quick blast down Hwy 56 East to a super tight right-hander on to the entrance ramp to the Hwy 15 carpool lanes.

I don't like that spooky, paint-slick right-hander at all, and I think every time I lean into it that it's an engineering abomination - a royal screw-up by somebody who had a chance to make it right. See... it's narrow, tight, and of course one of those faceless, ubiquitous, crazy retaining walls is staring me in the face daring me to smack it all the way through the curve. Hey, don't get me wrong: I ain't actually complaining, I just don't like the darned things trapping me into their narrow tunnels... not to mention the coffin cars that back up at the non-carpool entrance ramp, making me (yes, FORCING me!) to lane split to get to the fast track.

But, back to the cold stuff. The commute to Nik Software is on a super-slab that traverses many canyons. Yet even though the concrete ribbon looks rather smooth and flat, there are definite dips through the canyons where the temperature can easily drop 5-12 degrees (according to my onboard thermometer).

And hoo boy can you feel it! One minute you're trucking along at 75mph and reading 68 degrees, and the next few moments you're in the 50's or even lower. I do like the sensation of the off and on coldness - keeps ya alert - but at times have wondered what the heck the actual "wind chill corrected" temperature might be on the commute.

So, I set off to find a wind chill chart to get some data. The Nat'l Weather Service even has a calculator that makes sussing out a wind-corrected temperature easy.

Speeds on the super-slab range from 50mph to an easy loping 90mph (especially if there's a Porsche hot-footing it by!). I plugged in 49 degrees (the highest this calculator would go) and 80mph, which yielded a 36 degree wind chill.

Yikes! At that temperature, frostbite is not supposed to occur for at least 30 minutes; therefore a 20 minute commute should be fine and dandy!

The bike has heated grips, and with last weeks service appointment is now outfitted with a direct-to-the-battery, fused 15-amp socket. That's powerful enough to drive a mini-air compressor or - more to the point - electric clothing. Now that should make future commutes nice and toasty IF I can scrape up the cash to pick up an electric vest! Until then, I'll suffer through (but enjoy) the cold "dips" on the commute.

The 2009 Pinewood Derby Rocked!

2009-02-02T20:49:00.000-08:00

This year's edition of the Pack 621 Pinewood Derby was super-fun. I had missed the 2008 running due to a poorly-timed business trip so I was extra-anxious to enjoy every single moment. Capably led by Sharlene Forbes and a host of volunteers, we dialed in the cars and practiced on a Friday night, then raced Saturday morning.

I was probably as excited as Ethan - his car looked excellent and I was hopeful of a solid performance (by both of us).

A former dad in the Pack has some pull at the excellent LDS church up the road - they have a basketball gym that can easily accommodate our crowd of 50-60 parents, boys and siblings.

Sharlene was able to secure a well-built track and an electric timer (key to eliminating ALL controversy). And, being a statistician, she arranged a sequence of "heat" races to determine the top 4 racers who would compete to represent our Pack at the upcoming Scout Fair in April at Qualcomm Stadium.

Racing action at its finest - wow, look at that photo-finish!

Along the way, two "belt loop" stations were set-up (music and heritage) and a free snacks table was available. Thanks to Jeanette Candelaria and June Ludwick for manning those stations!

Emotions ranged from pride to delirium

Chris Claborne, the Camera Ninja, once again proved his mad warrior skills behind the lens. The pictures you see on this post are his with full credit - if you are looking for an excellent portrait and fun-loving location photographer at a reasonable price, look no further than Mr. Claborne.

Pit row was awash in last minute fixes and graphite powder lubricant. My hot glue gun was a hit. The natives were restless! Fun stuff.

But not too restless to enjoy the Parent races and the sibling/guest races. It should be noted that the Parent races pitted cars that had virtually no restrictions on them.

Clearly the fastest in the group was that chunk of wood with a 1lb of lead on it entered by Ryan Omer. LOL. At the speed it was traveling, every crash into the foam at the end of the track took its toll. Still, it prevailed. I had to take consolation in my "Electric Gravitas" racer which I think earned serious style points!

In the end, racing action was intense, emotions ran high, and each of the 4 final contestants ran on each lane of the track one time - thereby eliminating any advantage a cock-eyed lane might provide.

In the end, a Webelos 2 boy who will be bridging to Boy Scouts in about 3 weeks came away with top honors - hearty congrats, Juan! Keep that car safe and we'll be cheering you on in April!

Congratulations Juan - do us proud!

Quick trip to the Midwest

2009-01-25T05:46:00.000-08:00

This is a personal blog, but most often just "lightly" personal - not a "tell-all." This one is a little more personal. Over the past 3 days, I've reconnected with both sides of my family under some trying circumstances and came away bouyed by the experience.

My sister Jody is embroiled in a divorce of epic, ugly proportions that threatens to rip the fragile rug of her life out from underfoot. No matter the outcome of the custody battle, it will be vital for her to center herself and regain her footing and not permit this melee to define her life or Motherhood.

I'm confident she will recover with the help of a stable job caring for the elderly, the love of her current man (a H.S. flame I also knew back in the day), and the family support she can rely on from the La Rue clan.

At the same time, as hard as it may be, Jody must find a way to not let hatred thoughts consume her. IMHO. The kid's childhoods HAVE been damaged & compromised. Two promising young girls and a vibrant formerly loving young son completely turning their backs on their mother is unthinkable. BUT to get thru this I think she needs to stay focused on her health & sanity and, to a great extent keep moving forward as best she can. Look, as we saw in court, the power in this whole menagerie has been with the kids *choosing* - and being allowed to choose -to whom they want to throw their love. With no consequences when they act like horrible little urchins.

Jody has to -in my opinion - stop appearing dependent on the kid's overt love for her definition; for her self-worth. I said hi to (and was acknowledged by) Maggie at her ball game. I had a short conversation with Mollie about cell phones & texting. The yummy chewy loving center of those kids ARE under their hard shells; however, they have to realize the power they've enjoyed and abused over the last year will not be tolerated or effective anymore. Jody can't control the Ex and what he does, but can certainly continue to take the high road and maintain an outward posture of love and acceptance of the kids.when they come around/wake-up/whatever, they need to know the she's there for them. The bashing of the Ex needs to slow too. Again, in my opinion. That feeds a festering psychological wound.

The custody trial has two more days of gut-wrenching testimony and cross-examination. Neither my father, step-mom (who was a rock) or I will be there in person but our spirits will be reaching out across the distance. Jody - if you're reading this, take heart! Be strong sis!

On the way home I stayed briefly in the home of Tamara & Justin in Dallas, TX (Copell to be accurate). Tamara is my niece - Pam my step-sister's daughter. Justin is a woodworker by hobby and an ace physical therapist by trade. Great guy, smart, and a loving hubby. Killer new garage he's just built too. Tam works for the Gov't - a DEA chemist. Two sons. I truly enjoyed their hospitality, and a very comfy spare bed!

I really hope Jody can get back to that happy, comfortable place in life that we all strive to be in.

Jerry and Jody, sitting on an old tractor feeling the 2 degree chill!

On the Road to Cold

2009-01-22T13:27:00.000-08:00

Thought I would see if I could blog from my Blackberry - turns out I can, but you gentle reader shall be the judge!

Heading to Des Moines, IA which regularly sees "zero" degrees. Ouch! That's hurtful, or if you prefer WTF??!!

Jody - my dear Sis - has been embroiled in a caustic split with her 2nd husband that is nothing short of a horror film on rails, sprinting for a landmine field. Really about as non-amicable as one could imagine. Toss in a "parental alienation" chaser and you have a cocktail of devastating proportions.

The losers in all this are the kids - deep down they are supremely confused but love both parents. However, it's my belief the Ex has manipulated the kids into thinking they must make a choice. Plying them w/ gifts and a permissive atmosphere and lie after lie made the choice of allegiance easy for their impressionable lives.

Regardless, they have made the choice to make their Mom "persona non grata" and everyone suffers short & long-term trauma. Their child counselor has stated repeatedly that the children are deeply hurt and angry; that it's the worst case he's seen in 28 years of practice. Well, that's a record nobody should want.

So sad...as I sit on the tarmac in Dallas, I'm not thinking of the chilly temperatures ahead, but rather the cold, dark Winter Jody's kids face as they struggle everyday with the weight of their hateful decisions and with trying to understand what went so wrong.

The "Gem" Next Door

2009-01-18T22:35:00.000-08:00

Not only is San Diego enjoying record warm temperatures this Winter, unlike most of the rest of the country (ummm... it was in the upper 70's this afternoon and I washed Kim's car as well as my F800GS), but we live in an incredibly beautiful area. I was inspired by my friend Kevin Carmony, who wrote recently of running in the Rancho Santa Fe area, to remark briefly on Los Penasquitos Canyon. It's truly a "gem next door" - about a 5 minute walk from my front door.

PQ Canyon is an urban canyon stretching some 5-7 miles from basically Highway 15 to Highway 805 sandwiched between the communities of Mira Mesa and Rancho Penasquitos. I've hiked, mountain biked, run, cavorted with the dogs and kids, Geocached, and basically enjoyed this ecological wonder since I bought the Covina house in the early 90's.

Heck, Alex Tosheff and I almost killed our dogs Romeo & River one twilight hike in the rain a decade ago. We were trying to figure out how to cross the raging stream near the waterfall in the middle of the canyon when of course both dogs decided to go "wading" in the water. Which, of course, promptly proceeded to sweep them down towards the aforementioned waterfall. Luckily, their mighty and desperate dog-paddling delayed the inevitable long enough for us to grab their collars and cheat the Devil again. The wives were NOT happy. ;-)

Lately, PQ Canyon has been a willing photographic subject, as I explore my new passion and continue to experiment with the Nik Software photographic filters. Here are some of my favorites...

(Silver Efex Pro)

(Viveza & Color Efex Pro 3.0)

(Color Efex Pro 3.0)

(Color Efex Pro)

(Color Efex Pro 3.0)

(Viveza & Color Efex Pro 3.0)

What a lovely spot on the planet...

F800GS Bar Risers Install

2009-01-14T22:37:00.000-08:00

I ordered the "Ultimate" compact toolkit for an F800GS and a pair of ROX Pro offset "bar risers" from Adventure Designs a couple of weeks ago - my Christmas present to myself! The toolkit was needed because it was a fast, convenient way to assemble ALL the various wrenches, Torx bits, etc. needed to deal with every fastener on the bike. Plus, it's supposed to fit under the seat, although I haven't tried it yet. The YouTube video makes it look easy, but I'm sure it will be a challenge.

Bar risers are good for riding while standing on the pegs. Riding in this position helps cushion the back and body when traveling over bumpy roads. Without the risers, it's uncomfortable and a bit unnatural to hunch over and reach for the bars. DR650 Mark and I have been practicing standing up on every dirt road we come to; after all, practice makes perfect. By raising them an inch or more, I'm finding it more comfortable to stand and the bike handles better. On paved road, the bike feels taller, but I'm re-learning lean angles again - not a big deal.

Installation was a bit funny. At first I thought I'd try the recommended configuration for "adventure bikes." Unfortunately, when spinning the wheel "lock-to-lock", the riser block hit my ignition protector (see below). So, I had to switch 'em. Mark, who happened by during installation, concurred.

Here is a picture of them installed, giving me more height. I tilted the bars back towards the seat a bit to make it even easier to ride. I've felt some ache in my shoulders on the ride, but again I think that's just re-learning...

One thing I thought was odd was that at the recommended torque spec for an 8mm aluminum bolt, the top of the risers didn't completely seat to the bottom half. I'm keeping my eye on it though... Onward!

Wind Caves Trek

2009-01-04T21:29:00.000-08:00

When you've visited the glorious Anza-Borrego desert enough, it calls to you even more, a dusty kindred spirit eager to show you dry wonders. It is with this backdrop that 4 intrepid familys left on a foggy San Diego morning recently heading Eastward through Julian, down Banner Grade to points beyond. Steve Koenig had suggested the trip just after our last 4x4 adventure, and I'd gladly taken the bait. Dave Foster and his family, as well as my motorcycling buddy Thuy joined in the fun.

The kids excitement rose considerably as we entered Ocotillo Wells, with off-road vehicles of all shapes and sizes hauled dusty butt along trails real or imagined. The desert was alive with critters! Our caravan took a right turn at Split Mountain road and, after about 5-6 miles, turned into Fish Creek Wash and stopped to stretch our legs and take a group shot.

The goal was to hike the Wind Caves, then if time and energy permitted head up the Wash and take a finger called Sandstone Canyon where the walls of the canyon stretch upwards blocking out the sun on the fringes of the day. We cruised up Fish Creek, stopping briefly to check out a spectacular formation that Steve dubbed "horseshoe" (for obvious reasons). Pretty amazing geologic scenery.

It had been well over a decade since I'd been to the Caves, carved out of the sandstone by a millenia of blasting wind, which was mercifully light as we climbed up the trail. The kids were troopers, leading the way and giddy about what lay ahead. Ethan was admittedly a little nervous about "crawling down into caves" but I assured him they were mostly above ground.

They are pretty spectacular and thankfully mostly graffitti-free. We hiked around a bit, the kids dodging and exploring the crevasses; the parents mostly took pictures! We ate lunch hunkered down inside of a particularly large "cave", sheltered from the sun which beat down about 70 degrees worth.

After lunch we all agreed that we were not at all done and decided to continue the drive. Dust and more dust and yet fantastic formations greeted us at almost every turn.

The striations of this canyon wall were very cool - for you photo buffs, I used a light blue-ish desaturating filter on the sand and warmed up the wall a little bit. I used the Nik Software Color Efex Pro 3.0 "Duplex" filter on the dusty roads image.

"Artsy" H3 entering Sandstone Canyon - Midnight filter

It wasn't long before we reached Sandstone Canyon. It starts out with a sharp right-hander, but then meanders back a mile or so, sometimes with the canyon walls squeezing the trucks within a few feet on either side. Eventually, as it narrowed too far, we turned back (Steve's H3 making it further than the others). A short respite for the kids to play and for the Dads to take more pictures, and we were off again.

The kids of course didn't want to leave - I recall my son Ethan saying this was "the best day ever, could we do it again tomorrow?" and that warmed my heart a lot. At the mature age of 10-ish, those tender moments seem to be fewer and fewer. We pretty much hot-footed it out of the wash back to Split Mountain road, but did decide to grab a bite to eat in Wynola. There was a pizza joint next to a red barn I wanted to try out and the kids were "starving" as always. Seemed like a dandy idea.

We rolled back into San Diego just after dark and, at least in our household, everyone headed for the showers to try and peel back the second skin of dust that we all sported!

Mother Grundy Calls

2009-01-01T19:04:00.000-08:00

To properly celebrate the New Year, my buddy Mark and I headed Southward to take in the delicious scenery and delightful roads around Otay Lake near the Mexican border. I had enjoyed the highways and byways around Otay Lake in years past on my venerable '87 K75S, so I knew it was a ride worth taking. Besides, I was anxious to see the airstrip at the end of the lake where Gary Poppitz and I took sky-diving lessons so many years ago.

Mark rolled up to Buckwheat Manor around 8am, and the air was crisp as we examined some of the cool modifications he's made, as described in a new DR650 website he's started. As we departed, I marveled at the fact that it's the first day of a new year and while most of the country is either iced, snowed, or rained on, we're blessed with near 70 degrees... Of course, my thermometer was only registering 44.1 as we hit Highway 15, but it would warm up. ;-)

We sped down the 805 and took Telegraph Canyon road East to the Lake. I wanted to stop and stretch from the ride on the super-slab, so we detoured on a lake frontage road that took us past the Olympic Training Center down there, dubbed "ARCO." Very picturesque and quiet at that time of the morning.

Mark took off in the lead as we continued on the windy road East, past a very nice Thousand Trails RV park I might need to check out with the RV soon, onward to Highway 94. I had read good things about a road called "Honey Springs" and noted on Google Maps there were some interesting dirt side roads vectoring off Honey Springs.

We took a left at 94 and an immediate right on to a honey of a road. I took lead and we hightailed it down a very nice 2-lane road with some amazing (and expensive-looking) ranch houses on our left and right. I was looking for the turn-off to a dirt road that had caught my eye when researching the ride: Mother Grundy Truck Trail. That one had our names all over it.

Image credit: Jack Brandais, Union Tribune

It had twice rained pretty hard in the last couple of weeks, so I wasn't sure what the local conditions would bring. Other than a few ruts, the road was pretty hard-packed; wet on the edges, but no mud to speak of. The trickiest part for me on the heavier F800GS was negotiating some fresh-graded dirt past a working Bobcat dozer. Both legs were down as "outriggers" but the bike totally handled it easily. Throttle control and a straight line, baby!

So, where did the name Mother Grundy come from? Well, according to a story by Jack Brandais in the Union Tribune from 2006 in which he credited Leland Fetzer and his "San Diego County Place Names A-To-Z", there wasn't actually a Mother Grundy! However, there is a peak nearby called "Madre Grande", named by early settlers because there are rocks that look like a woman's face. Apparently, 40+ years ago a local resident name Claire Hagenbuck said the "Madre Grande looks more like Mother Grundy to me" and the name stuck.

F800GS meet Rusty Tractor

Regardless, there were soaring vistas to the South and West greeting us as we clamored up the mountains - Mexico calling... As we neared the end of the trail, houses became more prevalent and we even saw a little ranch corral with 3 llamas playing. Really nice, very rural scenery throughout.

Heading home via the awesome sweeping twisties of Honey Springs road, then Highway 94 on to Highways 125 & 52, I couldn't help but be thankful for another great New Year's Day ride, just like the old days on the K-bike.

All Hail Crokinole!

2008-12-21T17:28:00.000-08:00

On Friday afternoon I received a long-awaited, very pleasant surprise in the form of a "Crokinole" board dubbed "Blue Bayou" after the Ray Orbison song. Crokinole is a game that was invented in Canada, or at least someplace North on the compass where long months are spent inside and where such games are conceived, refined and invented. Or so I'm told...

Artsy Glamour Board

So, Crokinole is a game similar to shuffleboard that is played on circular, highly polished surface. The object is to "flick" (with your finger) a small lacquered disc into a recessed hole in the center of the board and at the end of play have more of your 12 discs in scoring position than your opponent. Surrounding the hole are 8 pegs that will confound you. Further compounding the confoundment is that your opponent is compelled to hit one of your pieces with each of his IF you have a piece in play on the board. Game play alternates, one flick followed by another, until all pieces are exhausted. Sound simple? Well... it is, but there are some other rule nuances (such as you have to remain seated in one place for the duration of the game (can't position yourself for the optimum shot every time) and there is a fair bit of skill involved too.

Kim ok'ed the board purchase in November and I contacted Stan Hilinsky of Maryland who makes them with his brother. These are fine pieces of hand-crafted woodwork, and are priced as such. The Hilinsky Bros. have a huge gallery of images on their website at www.crokinoleworld.com. Others make the boards, but after seeing one owned by my buddy Matt Kardos, I was dead-set on having a Hilinsky Bros. board. The boards are in pretty high demand, so you either have to place a special order and wait until they get around to making it, or be damned ready to jump on a purchase if one should come available. Luckily, Stan is pretty plugged into email and responds pretty fast to questions. He knows you're serious when you PayPal him the cash. LOL.

So far, the board has a prominent place in our living room and everyone is enjoying it very much. We've had wicked competitions already and both Ethan and I are vying for the title of family champion. Age & Guile baby... ;-)

Self-portrait

2008-12-05T23:55:00.000-08:00

A colleague at work recently showed me a picture he took of our UI designer who hails from Luebeck, Germany. It was a stark black and white, with high structure and a gritty feel.

I think I've come close by using a few of our Nik filters, namely Silver Efex Pro and the "Bleach Bypass" filter of Color Efex Pro 3.0. Let me know what you think.

BMW Xplor Gives Me a Gift

2008-12-02T19:14:00.000-08:00

Imagine my surprise this evening when I got home to a wicked heavy box sitting on the dining room table. Return address of NY, but no clear Sender info. OK, I was curious. Herewith for your pleasure, dear reader, is a blow-by-blow recap of the unveiling (in video).

Thanks BMW XPLOR!

Epic Ride

2008-11-30T19:37:00.000-08:00

Prior to the 5-day Thanksgiving holiday, I channeled a huge amount of positive universal energy into the goal of taking a long solo ride. I figured if the weather held, and the kids were reasonably occupied, I could get a solid 5 hours in and a couple hundred miles. Seven and 1/2 hours and 320 miles later, I rolled back into Buckwheat exhausted but deliriously happy.

Departed Buckwheat Manor at 7am with fog surrounding - I figured like the weekend before that I'd be out of the fog soon enough, but it was still chillin' to the bone. I was wearing Neighbor Scott's Difi riding suit - it's not the Aerostich by any stretch (pun intended), but better armored and comfortable enough. Temp was in the high 40's and my gloves were soaked wet by the time I hit Bear Valley Parkway about 10 mi up Hwy 15. Here's what went down:

Bear Valley Pkwy to Valley Pkwy to Lake Wohlford - the ride around the lake never disappoints; distractingly beautiful and the sweeping 180 degree turn by the Cafe is so sweet
Around the Lake to Rincon, then down S-6 to the 76 heading right to Palomar where I noted about 39 degrees on the on-board computer - yeesh - that's why my fingers were tingling and cramping
Around another lake (this time Henshaw) to Hwy 79 through Warner Springs past the Glider port, right on Hwy 371 up through Anza, where I warmed up with a cup of coffee
I was feeling kinda "froggy" about now, so I decided to head left and cruise by Lake Hemet, Hurkey campground and on to Idyllwild where I picked up some gas. The mountain community was just waking up, it was crisp and there were many good folk walking dogs in the cool air.
I headed back to Hwy 74 - the Pines-to-Palms highway with some of the finest curves in SoCal. Luckily a fair number of slow-goers used the turnouts and a couple of us were able to put up a respectable pace. I did make a brief stop and a nice fellow in a sweet Lotus Elise snapped a photo of me, the Difi and the F800GS.
Once down to Palm Desert, Indio, La Quinta, and the Salton Sea, it was a flat, hot, boring drag of stop lights through strip-mall lined streets. Disgusting really. I found myself wondering how so many lame nail salons and mexican food restaurants could stay in business.
My stomach was growling by now - it was after noon and I'd only begun with a bowl of Raisin Bran (maybe a good testament to RB - I can see it now: "Choice of recreational GS riders everywhere!"). Seeing no viable restaurant in the Salton Sea area (save for mini-markets selling beer to off-roaders), I turned on S-22 heading to Borrego Springs.
Pleasant surprise! I cruised at high speed on a road bisecting a bunch of off-road campgrounds - lots of buggys, quads, cycles and such. Even saw some totally built Jeeps heading into some gnarly ravines on a 4x4 quest of the landscape. Borrego was pleasant, albeit crowded.
I ate at Carmalitas in Borrego - a tasty chimi - and left a message on the home answering machine before jetting up Montezuma Grade at approx. 1:35. WOW. I lucked out and had *nobody* in front of me for about 8-10 miles up what is definitely one of the top 5 twisty roads in SoCal. Really incredible. I hadn't been on the road in probably 10 years, so this was a real treat.
Heading back to town I wanted to be home by 2:30 - didn't think it was possible, but rolled into Buckwheat about 2:40pm (see first paragraph about the exhausted part).

All in all, a fine day! For instructions and a map to "rinse & repeat", see below. Cheers.

View Larger Map

Palomar Jaunt

2008-11-23T21:04:00.000-08:00

Ever since I picked up the F800GS, I've dreamed of cruising up to Palomar Mountain northeast of San Diego via the Nate Harrison Grade. It's a twisting 10-12mi graded dirt road that climbs 4000 feet and deposits riders into the State Campground at the top. A hop, skip and a jump away is Mother's Kitchen, an all-vegetarian restaurant that has on any given weekend 20-40 sport-bikes parked in front. Tasty chile, tasty cookies, and some darn good coffee too.

The day started off misty and cold; heading up Hwy 15 where I was to meet Mark (Suzuki DR650) and Conrad (Kawasaki KLR650) I kept thinking that if it stays this cold, and drops as we gain elevation, I'm going to be a chilly boy.

The plan was to take all back-roads to the mountain, starting with Bear Valley Parkway to Valley Parkway to Lake Wohlford and on up through the Rincon Indian reservation (punctuated by the huge Harrah's Rincon Casino black-eyeing the landscape). Luckily, by the time we got to the sweepers by the Wohlford cafe, speed was up and so was the sun.

The singles were keeping up well at all sane speeds so prudence was the order of the morning, up to and including my decision to let them lead up Nate Harrison. The grade was named after a black man who settled in the area with the Indians and was a local fixture for many years around the turn of the century. A pretty complete history of the era can be read in the "Valley Roadrunner" online. For our purposes, the road was dandy with a hard-packed grade, somewhat steep at times, not too rocky, and with nicely bermed switchbacks. We stopped several times for pictures, not wanting to let this moment pass. One such picture spot was a sharp curve where Mark's Suzuki exercised it's freedom to act of it's own accord and simply laid down. A few scuffs and a bent brake lever was the toll of the road. We paid and were off again!

As the group broke through the treelines, we found ourselves surrounded by an enormous amount of cut wood, remnants of the fire that swept over this part of Palomar Mtn. several years ago. The shadows were tricky in mid-day, and we were all vigilant for potholes, frost heaves from years past, and logs/branches in the road.

We hit paved road near the campground where Mark, Julie & Rosalie spent a weekend back in September, so the route to Mother's Kitchen was totally familiar. He led us to lunch. Many sport-bikes parked in front, but all well-behaved. Lunch varied - Conrad took the last tacos of the day, only because he ordered before me - the rat!! ;-) Mark macked on grilled cheese and I had a salad and club sam'wich. I didn't follow my own advice and was waaayyy too full for a delicious oatmeal raisin cookie! Mark insisted on a pose in front of the Post Office - classic!

While in Mother's I spotted a sign that said the old Palomar Lodge was going out of business and everything (fixtures and all) was for sale. Eureka - our next move!

The Lodge is just down the road from Mother's, a handy left turn off of the East Grade, leading to a tree-lined twisty country lane that nearly "done me in." I was in the lead on a road that seemed to have a lot of leaves scattered about. Only one of those "leaves" turned out to be a fist-sized granite rock that I hit square with the front wheel. (Note to self: don't stare at rocks in the road). The 21" wheel of the GS rolled over it, but was deflected rightward, enough to jerk the bars and nearly throw me at 35mph. Credit some fast twitch reflexes honed on the CRF250X out in Ocotillo Wells to keep me from kissing pavement (thank you Roderick!). Or, probably dumb luck. Just afterward I noted the tenseness in my shoulders and felt like I'd pulled a muscle in my lower back. None the worse for the wear - God bless the "gyro!"

Palomar Lodge was picked clean, unless ya couldn't live without a ratty bear-skin rug, deer racks or a cornucopia of scantily-clad Indian maiden paintings. Fun! Well... not so fun was listening to the proprietor rant about taxation without representation, how California was an impossible state to do business in, and how he was definitely heading to Oregon or Wyoming to "really live." Oh yeah, and a final bit of advice from the fella: "Never let 'em repeal your right to bear arms, boys!"

The East Grade of the mountain, and the start of the trek home, was everything I recalled from distant years past. Wonderful sweepers, decreasing radius corners, pretty smooth pavements, cow grates in all the right places... as bad as Kim reminds me my memory is, it is for these kinds of details I'm pretty spot on. LOL.

We stopped at a "vista point" overlooking Lake Henshaw, and took in more of the scenery. A couple of other bikes were there, including a very cool looking Buell rocket that was a purpose-built cornering demon. It reminded me of a similarly purpose-built futuristic ship called a "Tie Fighter" (you know what I'm talking about!).

We had decided to visit the Chapel at Santa Ysabel as our last stop prior to jetting home. There were only a couple other touristas there on the grounds, which includes a very nicely appointed church, museum, and cemetery. Quiet (and quieting for the mind).

The singles led the way home through Santa Ysabel and Ramona; in the late afternoon, it was a chore chugging along in traffic. But, we stuck to the main highway and others on the road were traveling fairly smartly - no laggards. Probably the right pace for the road-weary.

The total mileage for the day was about 100. Throw in the crisp air, a dusty bike, and some great memories and you have a recipe that shall be repeated soon. Until next time... Press On Regardless!

Webelos Woods-2008

2008-11-23T20:33:00.000-08:00

I think I've been waiting for "Webelos Woods" my entire Scouting career! Err... I mean, my son's entire Scouting career. LOL.

He had no idea what was about to hit him! Well, maybe he did, judging by the results from his last multi-day camp!

Camping out for 3 days at Boy Scout Camp Mataguay east of Mt. Palomar about 50 miles out of San Diego is my idea of a good time. I'd taken Friday off to pack and get out there as early in the day as possible I wanted to stake out a good spot in our campsite for Etho and I and generally "fly the flag" of Pack 621 to guide others in. Everything went smoothly as I picked Ethan up from school at 1:45pm to begin the journey on a beautiful sunny day. I'd heard there might be some rain in the forecast, but since it was less than 10% county-wide, I felt pretty good about not wasting a lot of energy on rain protection. More on that later!

Webelos Woods is a Boy Scout-led camp, designed to introduce 4th and 5th grade boys all around San Diego to some of the activities they will be doing if they continue on to a Boy Scout Troop. Mataguay Scout Ranch has a long and storied history and is perfect for the mission. It lies on 840 acres which was deeded to the San Diego-Imperial Council Scouts back in the 1950's. There is evidence that prehistoric Indians made the land their home here, being indications of villages and grinding stones for the Cupeno Indians. Groups that use the facility besides the Scouts include YMCA, YWCA, the Royal Rangers, Sheriff's and FBI SWAT groups, and World War II and Civil War reenactment groups.

The campsite slowly filled up with members of Pack 621 as Friday afternoon turned into evening. The campsite itself was situated near the end of the one-way road that circled the entire camp. Cars were parked about 3/4 of a mile away and you had to either walk or get shuttled in to your camp after dropping off gear. We heard later there were over 1900 people at the camp that weekend - wow! There was a very large outcropping of rocks and a steep hill behind the camp that provided boys from all campsites in the surrounding area with a cool "Lord of the Flies" experience. We could have skipped everything planned for the weekend and let them all play King of the Hill and I think the boys would have been very happy. Sad commentary on our suburban society. Rush put it perfectly when they sang in their epic song "Subdivisions":

"Any escape might help to smooth the unattractive truth,
but the suburbs have no charms to soothe the restless dreams of youth"

I was proud to see nearly all of the Webelos-age boys here on Friday, and knew that the balance would be coming in the morning. We were given colored wrist bands on check-in, which governed the activity areas of the Camp that we would be visiting on Saturday. After a quick night hike to check out the stars, folks began to disappear into their tents for a chilly but restful night of sleep.

"Artsy" morning Flag ceremony

Morning did come early though, and the parents got started on eggs and sausage breakfast, while the boys slowly emerged from their tents to search for sticks of war and begin patrolling the aforementioned rocks. A flag ceremony in full dress uniform awaited the boys bout about 8:30am, so we needed to hustle, and did barely make it on time.

The activity areas opened up at 8:45, so after a quick change into pack t-shirts everyone was off and running to the Fort. Highlights there were making rope and fire-building (a crowd favorite).

After the Fort, the Pack headed up to Mountain Man Meadow and sampled the rope bridges and trebuchet seige engines that the Boy Scouts built for our enjoyment. There was also a cool game where two Scouts were blindfolded and shot squirt-guns over the heads of the Cubs crawling under "razor wire" (well... ropes). There was wrist-rocket practice and more fire-building.

The boys pretty much scattered into all corners of the Meadow, none further than Etho and his buddy Sage who bounded into the woods to catch bugs and fill in gopher holes. Later on, they built fires and hot-footed it back to camp early.

We retired for a simple lunch back at camp, then several of us adults took off for some leader training whilst the boys went on a 2 mile group hike, which was activity #3 of a planned 4 activities.

When we returned, the boys had opted out of activity #4 in favor of more rock battles! That's cool because there was a terrific campfire program and show on Saturday night after our feast of a dinner. Many of the Boy Scouts put on skits and songs, as well as hosting a Flag Retirement ceremony. S'mores were on the menu after the campfire, then everyone started buckling in for the night.

*patter, patter, patter* Rain drops woke me up in the middle of the night. Glancing at my watch, 3:15am unemotionally stared back at me. I heard someone stirring out in the cooking area and I went out to help. Jeanette had also been awakened and we silently stashed everything that would "melt" if the rain continued. After falling back asleep, we woke early to a light rain, and the grim reality that it had actually rained continuously since we were out. Coffee tasted good and hot, but nobody was relishing the camp tear-down and subsequent clean-up. There was standing water in the lowest corner of my tent, soaking the foot of my sleeping bag. Several of the parents fixed breakfast and everyone started breaking their individual gear down and stacking it by the road.

Yummy S'mores!

By about 10am, most everyone was gone. It was still raining off and on, and folks like Joe McCaffrey, Ryan Omer, Dave Rose, Jeanette Candelaria, and Thuy Hunyh stayed 'til the end to make sure the camp was clean. I think the boys - especially the Webelos 1 (fourth graders) learned a lot, had a blast, and are looking forward to the next Webelos Woods in 2009. Only this time, they may actually elevate their re-enactment of Lord of Flies to the next level and take over Mataguay!

"Movember" Hullabaloo

2008-11-17T22:33:00.000-08:00

I'm constantly on the hunt for legitimate reasons not to shave, and the month of November finally came through! My co-worker Sean has for several years been involved with a worldwide group that encourages men to grow moustaches to raise awareness and money for Prostrate Cancer research.

Like women have designated October as National Breast Cancer Awareness month, so have the men-folk of our good land adopted the month formerly known as November as National Prostrate Cancer Awareness month. It is in that spirit that we grow facial hair, despite the oft-heard protestations of our women. I'm growing a moustache and "bringin' the Mo back" because people I know and love have struggled with prostrate cancer.

All the guys at work are "representing" and it's fun to see the groans as each day we look cheesier. To learn more about Movember, go to their U.S.A. web site.

To donate to my Mo, simply go here and donate online using your credit card or PayPal account. You'll be glad you did!

The money raised by Movember is donated directly to the Prostate Cancer Foundation which will use the funds for high-impact research to find better treatments and a cure for prostate cancer. Here are some other facts:

Prostate cancer is the most common non-skin cancer in the US with one in six American men developing the disease and more than 28,000 men dying of the disease every year.
African American men and those with a family history of prostate cancer are twice as likely to develop the disease and should have regular annual testing starting at 45. All other men should commence testing at 50.
Prostate cancer is 90% curable if detected and treated early.

The only big downside? Going without a kiss from my bride for... well, 17 days as I type this. Ouch!

Anza-Borrega 4x4 Trip

2008-11-06T22:17:00.000-08:00

It's been a long time coming, but well worth the wait. A couple of weekends ago, Steve Koenig who is one of the dad's in Pack 621 organized a bit of an offroad trip to the desert. His co-pilot was Brett Alexander - another Scout dad. I didn't have a wingman, but two energetic boys in Etho and his friend Josef. Good crew.

We first highway'ed it out the Interstate eastward ho until the little town of Ocotillo. A sharp left on to S-2, and we were off! Steve's got a sweet Hummer H3 which looked as though it could climb like a Billy goat - we found out later it could.

The plan was to ease in at Dos Cabezos, do some rock bouldering (trucks and kids) at Mortrero Palms, eat lunch near the old Dos Cabezos rail station and water tank, then mosey over through Canyon sin Nombre. We did all of this, with a tricky little bonus: the Volcanic Hills, which included a one-way arroyo through Piepkorn Slot that turned out to be a little dicey, but manageable. Here's the story:

After ending lunch, somehow I ended up in the front of the Hummer as we came through the Volcanic Hills, but soon came to a narrowing of the arroyo. I knew I was in trouble when I saw a plaque riveted to a rock.

Piepkorn Slot
Anza-Borrego State Park, CA
N32 47.003, W116 08.567
Elevation: 1469 feet

The plaque was a memorial to Mark Piepkorn who died there on Nov. 1, 1996. We got out and scouted a bit, finally coming to the conclusion that we could in fact make it through 3 different ever-narrowing drops.

We had to be careful not to scrape doors, and there was a little jockeying, but mostly a straightforward drive (easy to say now that I've done it once!). Here's a video of some other folks going through the same place: Piepkorn Slot: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sNu7VSs5_d4

Once through though, we only had about 150 yards of joy until an uphill scree field followed by a wicked descent into Mortrero Wash. I'm not ashamed to admit we spent a good 20 minutes moving rocks into the wheel ruts to enable our trucks to NOT high-center. It was very steep and made for some exciting "wheels-in-the-air" action on the downhill side. Yes, the children walked down the hill!

Here's a video of some trucks going down the hill - I have to say that it's a bit more gnarly now than in the video: Wicked descent: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JkM_sbW62ME&feature=related

As we cruised through Canyon sin Nombre, I finally took Etho's bluff. He's been begging me to drive the truck. I figured I was in for a "pop-the-clutch-and-stall" debacle, but the boy made me proud. He was able to let out the clutch, ease on the gas, shift into 2nd, and steer all at the same time (with a little coaching from Dad).

Onward to Julian and home. We did have a quick dinner stop at a BBQ joint in Julian just on the other side of the 4-way stop (really creamy Butternut Squash soup!), then headed down the hill.

All in all, a very successful trip for all involved: the trucks performed admirably, we hiked and got dusty. Just what the Desert ordered!

Photo Plus Expo in the Big Apple

2008-10-23T19:15:00.000-07:00

My 2nd Photo Plus Expo in Gotham City with Nik Software. Typical first day settling in to the prattling pitchman mode, dogs barking, throat scratchy, wondering what I'm picking up with every handshake and smile. Lovely industry the photographers have created though - mainly workin' folks, keen on their craft. Some egoists, but that goes with the territory I suppose.

The Nik Software booth was steadily jammed with attendees wanting to check out the latest from the firm, or just take a load off their backs in our comfy-seated theater. Sales OK as those things go, but more is better - we'll be fired up for the whole show. Some of us were true "Rock Stars" as this picture of Herr Haftel clearly indicates!

I did enjoy meeting a long time correspondant of mine named Xenophon Beake in the flesh so to speak. He and his wife Frances were very pleasant, and he showed me some nicely rendered images of his excellent black Crown Vic automobile. Tony Corbell and Xenophon go way back...they both claim "oh, we got stories..." ;-)

After the first day, I decided to take a lazy walk-through Times Square (which you already know if you follow my Twitter feed) and have a relaxing dinner at an Irish Pub off Broadway. Got a fun shot of a Times Square cop hassling a photographer for using a tripod with his DSLR - apparently that's not cool without a permit.

Walking back was a tiny bit chilly, but not bad given the Gap coat I lugged out to the East coast.

On Day 2, it was more of the same from the show standpoint, but we hooked up with the good folks from Mitsubishi Imaging & Pictorico Japan for a most excellent meal at Ruby Foo's, an Asian "Fusion" restaurant a few blocks from our hotel. There were 14 people total, including some C-level cats from Tokyo, but $1100 later all was good. ;-) My German co-worker Christian Grosse and I walked around Times Square (2nd time for me) with Michael Gilbert, a professional photographer who is doing a seminar with us next week. Michael is one of our Team Nik shooters and does good work from the studios he maintains in Hawaii and Paris (tough, eh?).

Day 3 was a little more low key - booth was jammed at times and we continued to amaze folks with Silver Efex Pro, Viveza, and our Capture NX 2 demos. Several people asked about Lightroom 2 compatibility, so we'll probably have to take a closer look at that soon.

Speaking of Capture NX 2 (which we developed, but Nikon sells under their own name), it was all over the place at the show. Very strong showing with continuous theater demos in the Nikon booth, free Trial versions for EVERY attendee, and some good-looking literature pieces. Hopefully there is some good recap press coverage coming from the show.

On this final evening several of us went to Don Giovanni's restaurant to celebrate the end of the show and wind down. The food was a gut-pleasing delicious, there was good conversation among work comrades, and a friendly waitress from Israel. I had an amazing lemon-chicken dish cooked to perfection, with capers that set the taste-buds tingling!

Tomorrow I plan to hoof it on over to Central Park for some sunrise shots if I can get 'em - Tony Corbell turned me on to a good location that should yield some amazing reflective shots into a still pool on the south side of the Park. Then, it's off to JFK and a short 5-hour flight back on Jet Blue, my new favorite airline on the strength of their in-flight entertainment systems. Cheers.

Unleashing (amateur) power with Nik Software

2008-10-15T21:36:00.001-07:00

I'm a bit of a digital tinkerer, I admit it. Hey, a guy's gotta dabble now and then! Sometimes in goofy GarageBand compositions, other times video. Occasionally building web sites and blogs, but since I started working at Nik I keep coming back to images.

Up at the Digital Imaging Conference '08, sponsored by InfoTrends, I found myself with an extra hour in the hotel room after the festivities and decided to "tinker" with an image of my son Ethan. Putting Photoshop CS3 and some of the Nik Software plug-ins to work, here's what I came up with - bear in mind, I definitely belong to that not-so-exclusive club of AMATEURS! ;-)

ORIGINAL IMAGE

The original image wasn't too bad, but the face is muddy, the background distracting and there's simply no "life" in the colors of the face. Believe me, there IS life on Planet Ethan!

Original NEF file coming up in Adobe Camera Raw (naturally, I click "open image" without any adjustments - I'll be using Nik Software for that, thank you!).

Default window showing the Nik Selective Palette with each of the plug-ins, ready for action!

Decided first to ensure there was no noise in the image by invoking Dfine 2.0. Dfine analyzes my image automatically and all I do click one button to "make it so." There are controls to more selectively apply noise reduction, but the tool does such a great job at NOT dorking up an image (i.e. making it softer where it shouldn't), I usually just tell it to de-noisify the whole image.

After a Nik filter has been applied, a new layer is automatically created.

Next, I thought I'd brighten Ethan's face, give it a little warmth, redden his lips, blue up his eyes and darken up the backdrop a bit with Viveza. About 6 clicks and 30 seconds!

Here's the same image with a split screen and showing a U Point powered Control Point over Etho's right eye. Control Points are ultra-easy to use: click the mouse on the area you want to enhance and move a few sliders. U Point "automagically" selects the area without any complicated selections or layer masks.

Now that I have Noise and Color/Light corrected, I'll turn my attention to (2) Color Efex Pro 3.0 filters, each accessed through this handy-dandy tool palette.

Ahhh... Glamour Glow, one of my favorites. It produces an other-worldly feel of glow and comfort and wisdom. Note the controls for Glow Temperature, Saturation, etc.in the upper right. Again, move a few sliders to get the look I want and I'm outta there.

Back in Photoshop, you can see the the Dfine 2.0, Viveza, and Color Efex Pro 3.0 layers are visible in the Layers palette on the lower right.

One of my other fav filters is the Bleach Bypass filter, giving Etho a look from the movie "300." How cool is that?!!

Finally, I decided that this picture merited a trip into our Silver Efex Pro, winner of the Best Imaging Software of the Year at Photokina 2008 (awarded by Chip Foto Video Digital magazine, one of Germany's largest). Note the handy presets on the left side for quick results and a myriad of choices on the right that give you infinite control.

In this screen shot, I'm choosing a venerable Kodak B&W film type. The software will actually recreate the image using the grain of the film I select - cool!

THE RESULTS

With a few clicks and sliders, I've been able to dramatically enhance the photo pretty quickly in (4) distinct ways, starting with Viveza which I used as the basis for the following (3) images. Here are the "before and afters:"

Before and after with Color Efex Pro 3.0 (Glamour Glow)

Before and after with Color Efex Pro 3.0 (Bleach Bypass)

Before and after with Silver Efex Pro

Editing images of people I love is very satisfying. It's definitely a new hobby for me and one that any family "memory-keeper" can dig - the investment in cost and time can pay off ten-fold (ego satisfaction, great prints, greatimages to share, etc.).

The Nik Software tools are free to try at www.niksoftware.com/downloads. The free versions work for 15-days, and can be used in Photoshop, Photoshop Elements and Aperture.

First Dirt! (road, that is!)

2008-10-06T22:02:00.000-07:00

On Sunday last DR650 Mark and I took off mid-afternoon for sights unknown (well, some of them unknown). This was to be our first post-600 mile tune-up ride, with enough miles and road-learnin' to satiate. The route was one I'd been thinking about a lot in the last 10-11 months - the dirt roads west and north of Sutherland Dam road outside of Ramona.

The day was mid-80's inland as we jetted from his house to our mainstay Highland Valley road. A lovely piece of engineering work, HV meanders and carves through some beautifully craggy orchard land, up into the hills towards Ramona. We flitted through the curves, leaning and throttling up and down through gears joyfully meshing their songs for all the world to hear!

We took a break at the Dam, gazing over the receded reservoir and making up our minds then and there to head northward wherever possible to try and mate up with Mesa Grande road (leading to Santa Ysabel, and Julian). At first gingerly, then with a bit more confidence, we motored down the graded dirt road until reaching the Black Canyon bridge, built in 1913. It headed north and upwards, so we headed that way too... Recapturing some of the elevation lost when cruising down to the Dam, we climbed back up to the ridges and continued the journey. The dirt road was sweet and by the end of the 15-20 miles I felt more comfortable on the "fire-road" quality dirt. The bike felt stable and I rode up on the pegs leaning in towards the tank wherever possible. We ended up above an Indian Reservation where the signs posted made it very clear we were not welcome, and onward towards Mesa Grande.

Love that road, MG. Been on it many times on the K75, but the F800GS was magic on it: Smooth, swoopy, sure-footed. It doesn't have the lowest center-of-gravity in the tool shed, but sweet nonetheless. Shot around the corner where Yoberdude slid out on a sandy apex - funny how memories come back!

We carved down the side of the hill until Lake Henshaw reared. And, before you hear it from anyone else, I did in fact run over an indecisive squirrel - weird thump-thump. MG let us off at Center Loop; a right turn and we were at the Hideout Steakhouse and amidst a PILE of Victory bikes on a ride down from L.A. Wahoo - the dual-sports have arrived! ;-)

A nice crew, cool and friendly. Mark and I took their "group photos." However, I was surprised how so many were sipping beers. I mean, I'm no prude in that area as some of you know, but piloting a two-wheeled horsepower machine like a loaded $25k Victory back through some of the windiest roads in SD County on home via the super-slab to LA didn't seem like such a good idea.

Minutes later, on the way to Julian we were re-routed near Springview road off the 78 about 3 miles out of Santa Ysabel. We'd seen the medi-chopper in the field behind Dudley's and I grimly thought the worst. The paper later reported a 21-year old sailer lost control of his cycle and hit a tree. Gotta keep yer head screwed on straight with this motorcycling stuff!

We'd come this far, and Julian was in our sights. Surprise of surprises - I wasn't looking for a slice of their famous apple pie, but rather some good home-cooked chile to beat back the chill in the late afternoon air. Alas, none was to be found where we settled in to eat, so a BBQ Pork sandwich and cole slaw was the order of the day.

After a quick gas-up, the ride home - 79 to 78 to Old Julian Hwy to 78 again to Poway road and on to Ted Williams Parkway to Hwy 56 - was fun, but not as fun as it could have been: too many cages on the road, esp. on my favorite sweepers between Santa Ysabel and the turn-off to Old Julian.

All told, a successful first long trip on the bike - a bit over 100 miles methinks. My odometer ticked over the 1000mi mark.

So many roads, so little time.

First F800GS Impressions

2008-10-01T21:44:00.000-07:00

I'm sure my regular and loyal readership is sick to death of the F800GS musings, but it truly is a gem of a bike thus far. Plenty of power, handling fine for a 21" front wheel, lovely luggage, nice exhaust sounds, and the like. I don't have a problem with the bulbous, wobbly brake reservoir that others have, and I'm not complaining about the vibrations (hey, it's a Twin after all!) or the wind-noise (pussies).

On the down side, the digital fuel gauge is driving me nuts - filling up at a gas station and having the gauge read 1/3 of a tank is maddening. I'm kicking myself because I forgot to mention that issue at the 600 mi. service... duh!

Speaking of the service ($180, btw), I was able to swap out the lowered seat that came with the bike for the standard (higher) seat I'd ordered. Whoa - definitely is taller and oh what a PLANK! My butt was numb from the git-go. Still, after a week or so, it's getting softer or I'm just getting used to it.

Last weekend I had a terrific ride - those of you in San Diego will know whereof I speak: Highland Valley eastbound to Bandy Canyon, Hwy 78, Old Julian Hwy (with a stop at Michelle & George Welsh's house), back to the east side of Highland Valley heading west back to Hwy 15. Fun stuff; just like old times. Bike did everything I asked of it, including the sharp 15mph curves on HV and Old Julian. I definitely felt rusty, but a lot of street smarts are coming back quickly. It will take a while to grow into this bike. My biggest challenge will be slow-speed maneuvering on the beast - hey, practice will make perfect.

Trying to dig up some Sunday morning riding partners this weekend; otherwise, I'm off to the races on my own.

It's ALIVE!

2008-09-15T23:44:00.000-07:00

I'm within spittin' distance of the break-in service of 600 miles on the new bike. A couple of quibbles, but overall man is it awesome!

Far exceeds expectations and turns heads everywhere. People say it looks fast and mean (yet classy) just standing still. ;-)

Not insignificantly, I feel the F800GS tugging me towards a camaraderie with riding buddies and visceral experiences that I haven't felt since the K75S was sold in 2002. I'm ALIVE!

This is a VERY good thing all around.

Here are some pics from delivery day and then a week later at sunrise over Iron Mountain, East Poway. Of course, breakfast at the Kountry Kitchen in Ramona with some good-natured strangers ensued.

Iron Mountain Sunrise

Kountry Kitchen with an MV Augusta, a couple of Ducatis and more

GS spotted: San Diego!

2008-09-03T20:30:00.000-07:00

I was at the Southwest Airlines curbside drop-off at Lindbergh field today when the call came in. I recognized the number - it was the motorcycle dealership.

You know - THE motorcycle dealership. Said good-bye rather quickly to friend and workmate Tony Corbell who was heading to Vegas on biz and clicked the "Answer" button to hear: "Hi Kevin, this is Gary over at San Diego BMW Motorcycles. There's a truck outside with your bike on it."

Wow. Out of body experience (though I had to bottle up the "Whoopee!" a little bit as I was pulling away from the curb under the watchful eye of a traffic cop). "I'll be there in 30 minutes," says I. And off I was, back to Nik Software to pick up my friend Laurie and a camera. Laurie has been a tremendous pillar of support throughout the "waiting ordeal." Her hubbie Wayne has a KLR650 and I hope to ride a fair piece with him at some point.

When we arrived at about 11am in the morning, the dealership was fairly quiet, but even so I felt the crackling energy of an F800GS in the vicinity. Gary saw us and said it was out back, and I spent a few precious minutes with Stan the service manager looking it over.

Clean. No damage from the voyage detailed ad nausea elsewhere in this blog. I was surprised that it was in a cardboard box, but saw a reasonably secure 1 x 4 frame built around it within the box. The front tire was off in its own cardboard cradle. A fair amount of thin foamy covering to keep the bike sano. Overall, very pleased with the packing.

I told Stan I had a few things in the Parts dept. to pay for (bashplate and crash bars), plus an Accessory Package that his guys would need to install. He understood the mission completely.

Then... the operative question: "Can I pick it up tomorrow (9/4/08)", says I. "I think we can get that done for you," says he.

Grins all around. I headed for the Parts dept. to talk to Sean and Jeff. Good times; stay tuned.... After all, we have to pick out a name for the steed.

Contemplating my navel.

Fever Pitch

2008-08-26T23:21:00.000-07:00

It's a hallmark of blogging I suppose that posts should be somewhat timely - not as timely let's say as Twitter, but at least current. Well... hearing the real time chatter of folks who are taking delivery of their new F650GSs and F800GSs here in the U.S.A. has become a real obsession of mine!

I've been in pretty regular contact with SD BMW Motorcycles and, while they don't know exactly when the bikes will arrive (how can that be true?!), they have said my bike was in the BMW Warehouse on 8/15 AND that just this afternoon (8/26/08) two F650GSs hit their showroom.

I'm anxious, and hopeful that mine will be delivered and ready by the end of the week (just in time for a 3-day weekend to break it in... Of course, it will be the Dark Metallic Magesium color and look much cooler than the bike above. ;-)).

Edit - 8/29/08: got word yesterday afternoon that the dealership had been "invoiced" for the bike. According to Gary Orr, this means that it is on a truck and en route. He doesn't expect it to arrive by the Labor Day w/e, but next week. I'm ordering Farkles and getting my gear ready! ;-)

Mark's New Suzuki DR650

2008-08-16T18:01:00.000-07:00

Imagine my delight this morning when my long-time friend Mark called me to ask if I could drive him down to a dealer in Chula Vista (South Bay Motorsports) where he'd at last found a black Suzuki DR650. I picked him up from home at 3pm with my son Ethan in tow and off we all went: 3 guys on a mission.

The dealership was a long ways away, but oh boy what a complete joint. Like many of the mega-dealers, this one represented Honda, Kawasaki, Suzuki and Yamaha. Very impressive. When we got there, Mark made a bee-line for the gent that he'd spoken with earlier, who wheeled a 2008 DR650 out to the front entrance. Nicely detailed new bike with 1 mile on the speedo. Very dual-sport.

To my amazement, Mark let me have first ride around the parking lot and the bike definitely has power. 2nd gear pulled surprisingly strong. Me likie! It had been 20 years since Mark was

on the street, and he did really well on the way home. The highway seemed a little unnerving the first time out, but he handled it adroitly. Lots of people merging, but he moved neatly from lane to lane and still was modulating the throttle (break-in period).

Mark cruised by my house for a few minutes to debrief, then was on his way again to Poway - God speed!

I'm so anxious now and anticipating the F800GS. The latest of course is that it's at the VPC (vehicle processing center) in New Jersey, timing unknown but probably September. I can't wait to ride with my buddies and explore new territory. Alex T. is considering an F800GS as well, by the way, and Rod is looking at KTM640 & 990s... It's a good time.

BBQ Smackdown a Go-Go

2008-08-04T22:37:00.000-07:00

This afternoon was really special. Skip Cohen (Publisher of famous photo pub Rangefinder) and Carey Schumacher, local photographer and owner of Barefoot Memories, had challenged each other to a cook-off. The proceeds were going to the "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep" foundation which helps families who have lost babies get through the grieving process and have beautiful memories through photography. The gauntlet was thrown, the grills were fired up, and the contest was on!

Tony Corbell, my good friend and co-worker from Nik Software had been scheduled to attend, but was called away at the last minute. Lucky for me though, he gave me his "Golden Ticket" which gives the bearer "magic judging powers." When I got to Balboa Park where the event was held things were in full swing, albeit with people I didn't know. Nevermind, there were great smellin' steaks a'grillin' and smiles all around.

Soon the 8 judges were seated with steaming steaks and fixins' in front. Both pieces of glorious meat were cooked to perfection, I'll hand that to the chefs. I cut into the first steak and sampled it. Good, but... an interesting flavor. Fancy in fact (maybe too fancy I thought). I was eager to taste the second. Whoa. This is good. Solid presentation. Flavorful. Salty. Meaty. The caveman in me was stirred.

Naturally I had to finish both steaks - all in the interest of "science" of course. Still, in the end, Carey's steak took home the honors with a "ravensalt" rub that gave her meat all the flavor of the Old West or a fresh Mastodon kill. Congrats Carey on your 5-3 win!

Skip - hold yer head up proudly, amigo. Though the Jack Daniels and Soy sauce was a bit over the top for this landlubber, many gentle folk sampled and were drawn to it. Until next time folks...

Now THIS is a Good Thing

2008-07-22T22:20:00.000-07:00

Note: See updates below.

It's a funny obsessive SPIN that waiting puts on your life. Especially waiting for something you've been dreaming about for 5 years, and that's been inching towards reality for 9 months (hmmm... sounds like a baby!).

There are more than a few of us who are daily readers of and posters on the ADV Rider forum. It's proven a great place to hang out, get advice, dream a little, relive adventures, and kvetch about the sorry state of affairs as the U.S. gets dissed from BMW Motorrad on the eve of the F800GS launch last March. Nope, no bitterness there... LOL

So earlier this week... finally things get super-interesting. According to San Diego BMW Motorcycles owner Gary Orr, the VIN number on my super stealthy, uber-speedy Magnesium Gray F800GS puts me at #216, scheduled for production on July 17 (about 5 days ago as I write this). I'm guessing here a bit, but hopeful that those last several digits in the longer VIN foreshadow some ranking of build order.

But I digress. In a post this evening, a fellow on ADVRider stated that got confirmation from his dealer that his cycle was "on the boat", AND he linked to a real-time positioning map of where the boat is on the high seas (ed note: this server doesn't seem to be working now).

True or false, I don't know, but it sure does sound promising! Further, his dealer said that the boat is due into the Port of New York on July 23. Checking the Port of New York/New Jersey Vessel Traffic website, they DO have a listing for the Ever Delight arriving on 7/23/08 from its last port of Le Havre, France. So far, so good! It came out of the "Ambrose Channel" (presumably from the open ocean to the actual port), at 2:40pm.

The betting line is that it could be at his dealer in 1-2 weeks. He lives in PA, so assuming it takes an extra week to get to the Left coast, we're looking at seeing the beast around August 13. Wow. Pinch me.

Update: Today I received an email from Mike @ San Diego BMW. He confirmed that the build date of my F800GS was 7/18, leaving port on 7/27. I'm trying to estimate what the time-in-transit might be and will update this blog as new info arrives. The ship, by the way, is called the Ever Result. I like that word "Result." ;-)

Update #2: 8/3/08 - I found a new, better site to do cargo ship tracking. It is a site called: cargotracking.org and it's much more complete than the other site I stumbled upon earlier. Basically it confirms the Ever Result sailed from the Port of Bremerhaven on 7/27 en route to Rotterdam, Le Havre, France and finally to New York with a scheduled arrival of 8/4. Ummm... that's TOMORROW for those of you who are counting! ;-)

Over on the ADV Rider forum, folks are speculating that cargo from the first ship coming in with F658GS and F800GS bikes has been held, pending arrival of the Ever Result which carries the balance of the bike shipments to cover all the U.S. Dealer allocations. Theoretically that means the bikes will begin transport out to the individual dealers within a couple of days. It will probably take a week or so to get out here to the Left Coast, but having the steed "in-country" is huge. Keep ya'll posted as I come across additional info.

Adventurous Oregon & Beyond

2008-07-09T23:12:00.000-07:00

I was determined to have a decent breakfast and get an early start on the trip over to Ashland Oregon, a full day's drive away. I wanted to visit Ashland and check out the town I'd heard so much about from friends Alex Tosheff (whose brother has a restaurant called "Dragonfly" there) and Stuart Henigson of the Allegiant time of my life (so long ago in the mid-90's). Etho and I broke camp quickly and headed to Boise where I was confident we'd find a good joint. Turned out to be a Perkins "Cake & Steak" house, so famous in the Midwest but certainly scarce on the West coast.

I had planned the entire trip, in fact before leaving, to contact Stuart and sort things out so we could stay with him in Ashland. As you can guess from the first sentence, as I was heading INTO Oregon I still hadn't reached out. Ahhh well, par for the course. I plotted our route (over a veggie omelet) that would take us the fastest way through the state (or so I thought) and as we hit the highway I dialed 411 for Ashland. *brringgg - briinnnggg* There was NO Stuart Henigson in Ashland, nor Sarah his wife, BUT there was a Lena Henigson. The operator asked if I wanted to be connected - sure. I think to myself: how many Henigson's can there be?

Turns out, Lena was Stuarts SISTER! Stuart had moved to Portland several years earlier (my heart sunk). Lena and I had a terrific talk and finally she said that Stuart was actually going to be in Ashland *tomorrow* for a consulting gig. But that he would have to relay a complicated, but shorter and more beautiful driving route to Ashland from Boise. He knew the routes well as his mother lives near Boise. Fortune was truly smiling on us!

Stuart called a couple hours later and man was it great to talk with him! Just like old times. Plus, Etho and I had just stopped for a vanilla milk shake in a small town of less than a couple hundred people. Lena wasn't kidding - Stuart gave me a route only a native could follow, but I had good maps and a strong instinct for a Westerly direction!

One of the key things Stu told me was that we needed to "turn left" to get to Christmas Valley (LOL), that the Klamath Basin Marshlands would be a terrific sight (it was), and that we should try and camp in Shady Cove just North of Ashland if we wanted to do a little rafting on the Rogue River (we did). But... it was a BIG danged day of driving. 3 hours from Boise to Christmas Valley (great lunch at the town cafe, by the way), then I happened to mention to Etho that Crater Lake was nearby. Off we went!

Sadly some of the areas around Crater Lake were closed due to a late snowfall., but we went up as far as we could. The best part was our EPIC snowball fight which included an errant throw by Yours Truly *through* the open windows of my truck. I was trying to "thread the needle" from the driver's side and pick Ethan off, but he smiled, whooped and closed the passenger door. SMACK went the iceball, splatting into and all over the *interior* of the truck. Uggh! We laughed almost until we cried...

Pulling into Shady Cove a couple hours later, dusk was upon us when we happened upon a fellow washing down some rafts at the "Rogue River Rafting Company." We talked about renting one of those "bad boys" the next morning. Then got some directions to camp at a State campground called "Rogue Elk." After driving back North about 6-7 miles, the campground appeared. We quickly set up camp in the dark, and soon thereafter I shot some of the most beautiful pictures of the trip - the moon over the Rogue. I was psyched!

I hadn't rafted in a long, long time - maybe 15 years? - but the Rogue where we put in was pretty mellow - Class 3 in only certain places, but otherwise a leisurely float trip. Ethan had a good time getting us into a squirtgun fight with another raft, and I enjoyed steering from the back - Captain of the ship, as it were!

Ashland reminded me a little of La Jolla, only in the wood vs. along the coast. High-class shops, tourists, terrific restaurants, and the welcome mat to browse. Only it was HOT and all we really wanted to do was take a shower. We found a hotel and relaxed for awhile - I'd made arrangements to meet Stu at "Dragonfly", Marla and Billy's restaurant, later in the evening, but I still wanted to shop a bit and poke around the town. Ashland is known for it's Shakespeare Festival that lasts much of the year. It's a real draw and I'm sure helps upscale joints like Dragonfly thrive. Ethan and I walked around downtown (ask him to show you his fly-fishing "flies"), and did a "walk-by" Dragonfly so there would be no problems finding it later.

It was great to see Stuart again - he hadn't changed much at all (no more than I have over the last dozen years!). Good times catching up on family and work, and the food was marvelous. We bagged some ice cream down the hill and called it a night - long day, which foreshadowed the next day's drive as well!

The next morning, Ethan and I got a reasonably early start towards home. We were heading to Southern California finally after nearly 2 weeks on the road. Mary (Kim's mom) and David (her bro) expected us for dinner in Oxnard, and I vowed not to disappoint. Man I hate the "super-slab" highway through the middle of California. The "Grapevine" is a major dread, and the stupid people who do not know how to interact with fast-moving commerce truckers are a major pain as well. Still, a little route planning and a lead foot, and we were at Grandma's house by nightfall...

The trip is clearly coming to an end now. We were bunking for just a night in Oxnard, then booking for San Diego and OUR family in the morning. My two-week road trip/adventure with Ethan was nearly done. We'd clashed a bit, smelled each other's farts, ate together, hiked, rafted and spelunked, laughed heartily (usually fart-related), pitched tents at night, and met more than our share of other Americans on the road just livin' their lives. What a great country we belong to, to travel so effortlessly! And, without a doubt, what a great kid I have in Ethan - I'm truly blessed with a superb traveling companion. Can't wait for the next adventure!

From Yellowstone to Boise, Idaho

2008-07-09T23:09:00.000-07:00

Ethan and I raced out of West Yellowstone, which was a fine little tourist town I would have liked to peruse, but time and distance pulled at us strong. Besides, we were a bit "saturated" with tourism by that point and needed to feel the open road. Our objective was Idaho Falls, a looonngggg ways away at the 55-65 mph that most traffic was maintaining on the smaller highways. Nevertheless, we forged ahead and soon were pulling into town at dusk.

Since we were essentially traveling over the 4th of July holiday, a big objective was to see some of the hit movies along the way, one of them being Will Smith's "Hancock." And lo and behold! A theater loomed just off the highway, and soon we were hunkered down munching on popcorn enjoying the flick. I'd give the movie an overall 7.5 out of 10 (would have scored higher were it not for the confusing end).

We hadn't even bothered to find a motel prior to the movie because, as I'd come to learn on this trip, there really isn't any point. There is almost always extra capacity in the towns we were in, and you just come to accept the room rates for what they are - usually between $28-$50/night, although I did have to spend $70+ one night when I just couldn't soldier on to a campground.

The next morning I was committed to making it to Boise but had no idea what I was truly up against: two very cool National monuments that would consume most of our day! Ever cruised down the highway in the deep Southwest and seen the signs for "The Thing?" Been driven to near madness wondering what it was? Well... a similar fate attached its tentacles to Ethos and I in the form of the "EBR-1." What the H$#@*&ll was an EBR-1? Sign after bloody sign... poking us in the eyes, taunting us, unraveling our brains which were already starting to decompose after so many hot days on the road. Government cars and some sort of National Research Facility in the middle of bumf**k, Idaho only piqued my curiosity. Finally, we drew near. The sign pointed to the left, 2 miles further and hopefully answers aplenty.

EXPERIMENTAL BREEDER REACTOR - #1. OMG. This is the very first nuclear power plant to generate electricity (vs. blowing the crap out of things!). I was fascinated, and even Ethan was a bit excited as we pulled up to the otherwise nondescript brick building in the middle of nowhere. The heat was a blast furnace, but the horizon was punctuated by the large twin turbine-looking objects across the lot from where we parked (more on those later!).

EBR-1 was successful at making 4 light bulbs glow in 1951, followed the next day by powering the town of Arco, ID, about 30 miles to the West. The plant seemed largely how it must have operated in the late '40's and early '50's, complete with concrete floors, a warehouse-like feel and, oh yeah - an honest-to-gosh Control Room that had more dials, switches, and gauges than you could shake a stick at.

The dawn of Atomic Power, and we were standing in the middle of it. Holy cow! My 3 favorite moments:

The neon sign that says "All of the electricity now in use in this facility of Argonne National Laboratory is Atomic Power." Cool.
The small push cart sporting a Teletubbies-like "Nunu" vacuum device with a small plaque that simply stated "Nuclear Measurement." Egads.
The dead moth in the bottom of one of the dials in the Control Room. Huh?!! ;-)

Well... I would also be remiss if I didn't mention the "SCRAM" button for shutting down the entire joint in the event of a reactor emergency, or Etho playing with a fuel rod manipulator. Really, a cool danged place. Check out my Flickr album for additional photos of EBR-1 and those wicked turbine-looking things that turned out to be experimental nuclear-powered *aircraft engines.* Whoa!

Leaving the NukeStation(tm), we headed down the highway for Craters of the Moon. I had high hopes for this Nat'l Park, and wasn't disappointed. The place was strewn with chunky lava boulders and it could very well have passed for another planet (or moon as the case may be). Cost us $7 to take the 12-mile drive, but the hook was definitely the opportunity to do some mild spelunking. Yep, you read right: hiking through underground caves.

Fortunately, since we were camping boys, flashlights were readily at hand. And what Scout could pass up an opportunity to venture into a hole called "Boy Scout Cave." Warned that there might be ice at the bottom of the cave, Etho and I stepped lively and bravely ahead. And promptly fell on our asses! Hard to believe it was 95 degrees up top, but a cool 40 degrees or thereabouts in the interior, cool enough for the frozen sheet of floor ice to persist throughout the Summer. The footing was precarious enough, but the entrance also required some squirming through a narrow passageway before opening up. These so-called caves were actually "Lava Tubes" that had collapsed and afforded an entrance to their interior. The park signage was informative and we had a good time before departing.

As predicted (by me) earlier in the day, it was late middle afternoon before we once again stretched our legs on the highway heading towards Boise. A long day, but a rewarding one (did I mention we started at Denny's for breakfast?). Trouble was... it was a long day, and I was getting tired. My thought was to try and stake out a camp site before nightfall - which meant that we wouldn't make it all the way in to Boise. Etho was getting hungry, so we stopped by the side of the road and made some turkey sandwiches before proceeding to a town about an hour out of Boise called "Mountain Home."

The signs to a KOA campground beckoned and we followed like moths drawn to what I hoped would be a flat grassy space. When we got there it was still about an hour from sunset, plenty long enough for me to chat with a couple of R1200GS riders who were tent-camping next to the office. They were from Chicago and were just out for a general "rideabout" before heading Northward to the BMWMOA rally coming up in Gilette, WY. Nice folks with their heads screwed on straight.

Cody, Star Valley and Yellowstone

2008-07-09T23:07:00.000-07:00

The upper half of Wyoming is truly a sight to be marveled. Nicely-sized mountains, colorful meadows and windy roads through small hardy towns. One such town is Cody. On our way to Star Valley to spend a couple of days at Bea Latham's house (the house that she and Bob built), we stopped in Cody for the night.

One of the big draws to stopping there was the Buffalo Bill Museum which featured the Cody Gun Museum, an absolutely world-class collection of every gun the Wild West saw in action (and some it didn't).

Ethan was enthralled and it goes without saying that I was mighty impressed as well. Thousands of guns from long-time manufacturers like Winchester, Remington and others. And cool dioramas too, like the one where Etho took on a Polar Bear!

Leaving Cody about mid-day (after the museum), we cruised through Yellowstone and Jackson Hole on our way to Star Valley and Thayne. Loads of touristas (like us) driving the speed limit, but there was enough scenery to keep us busy. Plus, a fellow had showed us a short-cut to lop off 45 minutes easy from the trip.

An extra-special stop was "Lewis Falls", a 35 ft. drop on a fast river. The falls are no-nonsense, and the meandering river that follows down the valley below them tranquil.

Thayne lies in the middle of Star Valley, down from the Grand Tetons. A sleepy town that seemed not much more than a collection of businesses on the highway, it was about 5 miles from the house we would call home for the next 3 nights. The house is modest from the outside, but with an open floor plan, a full-finished basement with 3 bedrooms of it's own, and a spectacular porch overlooking the 6th tee of the local golf course, this thing was clearly meant for family parties. That's certainly what Bob had in mind as the long-term plan.

Etho and I had only intended to stay a couple of nights, but got caught up in family stuff, and mostly things that we were psyched to do anyway. Golfing, hiking, fishing. I actually played a decent game of golf - at least I think so. I shot a 102 for 18 holes in my first game in over 8 years. I said playing golf on the Nintendo Wii had kept my skills sharp - ha!

The next day we hiked to a place called the "Intermittent Spring", which is a spring feeding a pretty nice river. One of only 3 in the world! Thing is, between September and May, the Spring will shut itself off through a weird series of bends in the rock for about 30 minutes a day.

It was really nice for Ethan to hang out with the cousins - Tamara and Kim's kids: Logan, Brody, Dane, Caiden, and Abbie. He really bonded with Dane, the eldest. The day we left Star Valley, we actually went fishing for 1/2 day, and Etho caught a fish like he was born knowing how to do it! Fun stuff!

I was looking forward to heading back up through Yellowstone, but due to our extra couple of days we were definitely behind schedule. Still, I wanted to make sure we saw Old Faithful, and stopped when we felt like it through the Nat'l Park. We blew through the Grand Tetons (for the 2nd time), and got to the Geyser Visitor's Center and viewing area with about 15 minutes to spare. Good seats for the show! Ethan was really excited to use the new camera to take a movie of the eruption. I thought it was cool when the rain started just after the geyser blew, almost like one caused the other.

As we drove out of Yellowstone to the West, I was struck (for the millionth time) at how beautiful it is. The Nez Pierce river, a stand of trees, fly fishermen in a quiet stream, hot springs everywhere, bison by the road, colorful meadows, mountains on the horizon filling the mind's eye with majesty.

(more pictures on my Flickr space)

Fulfilling a Wish

2008-07-09T22:50:00.000-07:00

The ceremony for Bob Rhinesmith was a quick and private affair in Buffalo, Wyoming's local cemetery. Bea (his wife at the end of his life) had arranged to have a portion of Bob's cremains buried in a plot next to Frank "Dutchie" Schmitz who was the man who raised him. My step-brother Pat was as eloquent as usual in these difficult circumstances, painting a clear and present picture of the man for everyone. I was reminded of how effective speakers wrap their words around a few simple points, and Pat does that as well as anyone I know.

I could only bring myself to say a few words, overcome as usual with the emotion of the moment. Frankly, I suck at eulogies - it seems pointless to try to sum up all the memories of a person in that manner.

As the ceremony ended, we all turned as an antelope walked through the cemetery about 50 yards behind the group. What was it thinking we were thinking?

It was about lunchtime and the consensus was to have some food and browse Bob's history in downtown Buffalo (which is about 4 blocks long in actuality). In the late '40's, he'd owned the Buffalo Bar which is now an artisan gallery, and a hotel called the Idyllwild.

Bobby and Pam Rhinesmith spent some formative years living in the apartments above the bar. Bobby recalled with a twinkle in his eye sneaking down the stairs in the late evenings to watch the rough men smoke, drink and play poker until closing time.

In the early afternoon, we started on the road to Cody, WY and into the Bighorn Mountains where Bob expressly wanted his ashes spread.

A lifetime, in a handful of gritty gray ash I hold. The harder I squeeze, the less compression I can feel. The ashes are dense. My arm arcs, sweeping across my view of the Bighorn Mountains as I release the powder and whisper "Thanks" to Bob and the memory of what he meant to me. The ashes drift slowly down on the beautiful vista that he will forever overlook.