Brian Head

Hubris: An irrational sense of overconfidence. Perhaps unqualified and bordering on arrogance (just ask Alex), it can lead to one's ultimate demise. That's my own loose definition of hubris - and on this day the definition may as well have included a picture of me.

For reasons still unclear to me, I decided that my skills at snow skiing combined with my skills on a bike qualified me to hop on a mountain bike at 10,000 feet and fly down the rocky slopes of Brian Head Ski Resort. This despite the fact that I'm an intermediate skier at best, not to mention skiing skills will mean nothing here today. This also despite the fact that I live and ride at maybe 5 feet above sea level max - rarely up, rarely down, just riding. Sign me up!

As I pulled up to the resort I was excited and ready, still blinded by hubris but also perhaps eased by the pictures I'd seen online. This was going to be a scenic ride with some adrenalin mixed in, and my itch would be scratched. As I rode the lift up, feeling the air getting thinner and cooler and seeing myself rising above the neighboring mountains, I started to get a sense of being in over my head. Really - you think??

I was told to follow the 'Color Country' trail for my first run. It's the park's easiest, and at 6 miles long it's a good way to get used to the mountain. On the trail map it looked like a nice ride but in reality it was a violent awakening. I stopped about halfway down the trail to remove my sunglasses, which were vibrating so much due to the rough/rocky trails that I could barely focus enough to dodge the bigger boulders. Shades off, I resumed the bumpy ride down. It only took a few moments to realize that it wasn't the shades that were vibrating - it was my eyeballs, bouncing around in their sockets. Somehow I got used to that freakishness and made it down. With a new sense of respect for the mountain combined with a more tempered level of confidence, I rode the lift back up for my second run.

Less than a mile down, my front brakes broke. Didn't stop working or malfunction, the pads completely broke off. Unfortunately this happened as I tried to slow the bike from going about 650 mph. No longer able to control my speed or direction, the result was inevitable. When I find myself in this sort of pre-accident position when skiing - and I do - I simply wreck, so at least I control when I begin suffering. However, at this speed and in these rocky conditions, wrecking wasn't at all desirable. Right about the time that I finished having this long and thoughtful conversation with myself, I wrecked. Somewhere in the course of tumbling down the rocky trail I must have tried to stop my fall with my foot, and in the course of the attempt managed to shred both my foot and ankle. At least it kept me from feeling the damage I'd done to my elbows...

The best part of this was that it happened when it did, early in the day before I was able to gain enough confidence do do something even more stupid than what I was already doing (VERY possible), and risking a more serious injury. The resort refunded me my money since it was an equipment failure, but I'm sure my lack of experience played a large role as well.

In the end this day changed a lot about the rest of the vacation for me. Hobbled, I was no longer planning on hiking or biking several miles each day. Instead of hustling each day from place to place so I could hit the trails, I would seek out the dirtiest lines on the map to get me there.

Zion and Kolob Canyons

To get from Vegas to Cedar City you simply drive north on I-15 for about 2 hours. Or, you can drive through Valley of Fire and then take the scenic drive through Zion Nat'l Park, and then detour on the dirt road that moves through Kolob Canyons, eventually dropping out of the sky and 'down' (elevation: 5800 ft) into Cedar City about 8 hours later.

After about 4 hours of 20 mph zigzagging, and right about the time that I was wondering if I'd made a major error and would have to turn around, a big truck towing a dirt smoother (think baseball diamond) approached. Surprised to see a convertible slumming it on his dirt track, he slowed to chat. I asked him if this road would get me to Cedar City. "Heyull yeah!" he shouted proudly. Put at ease, and happily inhaling the swirling dirt from his passing, I eagerly continued on and eventually found civilization again.

So very early in my vacation, and already I had satisfied my desire to Get Lost. Yes this road was on some map, but it was gray and dotted. And I was on it. Heyull yeah.

Utah: Life Elevated

How good does it feel to crest a hill and see this view, knowing that it goes on and on like that for miles, and that you have the road all to yourself? REAL good.

For me the journey is equally as memorable as the destination, sometimes even more so. That's what this trip was all about, one reason why there are a lot of pics that include the road. My favorite memories are usually found somewhere on the gravel road between Point A and Point Z.






For a ton more pics click here. Eventually I'll post more here along with some scattered details and ramblings. Right now it's time to get the heck outta here so Hurricane Ike can have his way...

Tropical Storm Fay

At 2:00 Monday 8/18, right in the thick of hard rains and 50 mph gusts brought by TS Fay, I decided to take a drive around Key West and see how the island is taking the storm so far. This 1st pic shows a muddy surge coming over the seawall at Higgs Beach.

A tree uprooted just 100 yards from my house

Exactly one hour later I return home, the rain has slowed down quite a bit. Nice to see that they're already taking care of the tree.

Weather pics

Approaching storms always provide a good photo op, lots of colors and contrast.

Addition by subtraction

In the spirit of my previous post regarding independence, I'm happy to say that Manny Ramirez is no longer with the Red Sox. Despite the fact that he's a certain hall-of-famer, he wasn't worth keeping in the clubhouse. He quit on his teammates. This man makes over $120,000 every game - and there are 162 games in a season! - yet he didn't feel that he needed to show up and perform every night to earn that money.

So the team did the only thing they could: they gave him away to L.A. Not only are the Sox paying the remainder of his salary for the last 2 months of this season ($7 million!), they also threw in a couple of players from their major league roster to make sure the deal got done. The Dodgers get a free Manny, the Pirates get 4 promising young players, and the Sox cure cancer - and get a good player in Jason Bay. Win win win.

Manny was quick to draw a parallel to his situation and the one Nomar Garciaparra was in 4 years ago, painting the picture that the team ran these stars out of Boston. Here's another parallel: In the summer of '04, the Sox traded away Nomar - like Manny a fan favorite, but like Manny a player that was an underperforming grouch - and promptly won their first world series in a bazillion years. Now Manny joins Nomar with the Dodgers, and the Sox turn the page.

See you in October.

Independence Day

A personal Independence Day is approaching: On August 13 2007, some papers were signed and filed, and liberty for two people was granted. From each other.

Happiness is what you gain from every moment in every day. Life doesn't have to be miserable, in fact it should be the opposite. Waking up depressed is a terrible way to start any day, much less all of them. Misery can make you drown; freedom is a reason to celebrate. Life can begin again - and if it does make sure you embrace it.

So, if on August 13th you hear some firecrackers going off in NoVa or Key West, you'll know why.

Book: Into Thin Air (Krakauer)

Wow. Jon Krakauer can write. I was blown away by his book Into The Wild, and became obsessed with the story of Christopher McCandless (still am), based mostly upon my perceived similarities to the main character. At the same time, I also became obsessed with Krakauer's ability to tell a story. As a result, I grabbed his book Into Thin Air and dove in eagerly.


If you don't already know the details (I didn't), the book tells the story of the tragic events that occurred in 1996 as several groups simultaneously attempted to climb Mt Everest.

Krakauer, as a columnist and editor-at-large for Outside magazine (and experienced climber), was asked by the magazine to join a guided expedition on Everest - not to climb the peak, but to remain at base camp and document the increasing commercialization of the mountain. He declined, mostly because he felt it would be too frustrating to be so close to the challenge of the mountain without ascending higher than base camp (altitude of 'only' 17,600 feet). Later he asked Outside if they would consider booking him with one of the more reputable guide services (and cover the $65k fee) to give him a chance to reach the summit (29,028 feet). They surprised him and agreed, and off he went.

Just as with Into The Wild, after reading the first chapter of Into Thin Air you know how the story ends. This became much more than a documentary account of the increasing traffic on the mountain: it was a struggle for survival, and not nearly everyone survives.

Included in the book are several photos taken at or near the summit of Everest. It is clear in the photos how extreme the conditions were, and also how difficult it was to tell who is who due to the amount of gear/clothing each climber was wearing. This is relevant, as the story reveals - "is that a guide, or a fellow client, or a Sherpa?" etc. With wind-chill temps reaching minus-100 degrees, and at an oxygen-depleted altitude over 29000 feet, your life depends on every decision that you make. Throughout, it is revealed that poor decisions were made by guides and clients and Sherpas alike. At the same time all were challenged to be heroic and many responded in ways that cannot be imagined by someone sitting at sea level.

The story is so incredibly told that it's easy to forget that it's true, and that Krakauer was there, living (barely) through the drama. One of my favorite reviews of the book included the following, from Mirabella:

"Though it comes from the genre named for what it isn't (nonfiction), this has the feel of literature: Krakauer is Ishmael, the narrator who lives to tell the story but is forever trapped within it...Krakauer's reporting is steady but ferocious. The clink of ice in a glass, a poem of winter snow, will never sound the same."

Indeed.

More Keys history

Lots of old Keys pics and information to be found here. Select 'virtual road trip' and sample some pics along the way from Key largo to Key West. Or, select 'photo search' and browse the archives - you can click on individual pics for larger versions. Click on 'description' for the date the photo was taken and other interesting details.

























Link: http://www.mile-markers.org/

Genius at work

Book: Haunted (Palahniuk)

I'm a huge fan of Chuck Palahniuk. He's so ridiculously creative and unique, I can't even think of anyone to compare him to. While his most famous work so far is Fight Club - a great book which was made into a great movie starring Brad Pitt and Edward Norton - he has written several books that in my opinion are even better.

Choke was the first book by Palahniuk that I ever read, and remains my favorite. It's being made into a movie, set for release sometime this September. It's been a few years since I read it and I'm gonna resist the urge to read it again, just so I can go into the movie with an open mind and not try to measure it against that book. Just as with Fight Club (and all of his books), Choke is a complicated story that can't possibly translate easily to the big screen - but, just as with Fight Club, if it works it will work very well. I can't wait!

I just finished reading Haunted. This is a collection of short stories told by a group of would-be authors, as part of what is supposed to be a 'writer's retreat' (one of the stories in particular is alleged to have caused many people to faint when read aloud by Palahniuk while on a publicity tour). This was a wild ride, and as usual for his books there is simply no predicting where the story is going, or what the characters are capable of. As much as I can't wait for Choke to be a movie, if this book ever gets there it'll be a blockbuster. The whole time I'm reading, my mind is showing the movie - I'm exhausted! Any potential director has his work cut out on this one...

Haunted is not for the Palahniuk virgin. If this is the first book you read by him it will probably be your last - and you'll probably burn it before anyone else suffers through it. If you've already experienced his genius, if you're already prepared for his insanity, then you'll love this one too. There is always a frenetic pace in his books that leads to some sort of climax, and this book is no exception.

If you've never read Palahniuk but want to, try starting with Survivor. This is also an excellent book but not quite so...I don't even know what word to use here, but if I did it would describe Haunted.

Movie: The Happening

I went to see The Happening this weekend, M. Night Shyamalan's latest effort. Hyped as his first R-rated film, I was hoping that it would make up for recent duds (in my opinion) like The Village and Signs. I made sure not to read any reviews before I went, just in case there was a trademark plot twist or some other reason that I'd benefit by remaining ignorant. Thankfully my friend didn't reveal to me the bad reviews she'd heard...

Anyway, I have one word to describe the movie: don'twasteyourmoney.

Maybe I was caught up in the hype, maybe I expected too much - or maybe it just sucked. The first half was pretty cool, mysterious and suspenseful as you try to figure out what's going on. The second half of the movie just dragged, and finally the end just sort of happens. No twist, and not even much of an explanation about what happened. It just ends. You ask "that's it??", and you get up and walk out wishing you had those 2 hours (and your $20) back.

Four thumbs down from us.

Desert wandering

In August I'm going on vacation. It starts and ends in Las Vegas, but the 9 days in between will be spent wandering the gravel roads of Indian country and hiking/biking the canyons of SW Utah. It's hard to find a greater side-by-side contrast in this country - the lavish crowded excess of Vegas vs the nearby deserts and canyons and their hundred mile views. It's an area of the country that everyone should see, and experience. I can't wait!

Two definite destinations are Canyonlands and Bryce Canyon. I don't want to have an itinerary so I'm not planning out anything more than the first and last nights (Vegas), but I know for sure that I will spend some time at these two parks. Zion and Glen Canyon and Capitol Reef are all also near enough that I'll probably find myself there as well, time permitting. I'll rent a mountain bike and throw it in the back of the car, and when the road ends the real fun begins.

Who knows when there will be time to read, but if so I just got a couple books with this trip in mind:

Life of Pi is a book that was recommended to me by a friend, after hearing how much I liked Siddhartha. While I'm far from religious, I do enjoy a journey whether it's physical or spiritual. In this case it appears to be both. Perfect!








Desert Solitaire seems to be a perfect book for this trip, about the author's experience while working as a park ranger in Utah's deserts. It is by no means a travel guide or reference book - it's more of an introspective look at time spent alone, away from society's trappings and inside one's own mind. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to relate...

Mitch Hedberg makes me laugh

Mitch Hedberg is (was) a funny dude. His comedy style was similar to Steven Wright, based almost entirely on simple observations made funny by his delivery. Some of my favorites:

I want to hang a map of the world in my house, then I’m gonna put pins into all the locations that I’ve travelled to. But first I’m gonna have to travel to the top two corners of the map so it won’t fall down.

If you find yourself lost in the woods, build a house - 'Well, I was
lost but now I live here'. I have severely improved my predicament.

I order the club sandwich all the time, but I'm not even a member, man. I don't know how I get away with it.

I sit at my hotel at night, I think of something that's funny, then I go get a pen and I write it down. Or if the pen's too far away, I have to convince myself that what I thought of ain't funny.

You know, I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask where they're going and hook up with 'em later.

My roommate said to me, 'I'm gonna go shave and use the shower, does anyone need to use the bathroom?' It's like some weird-ass quiz where he reveals the answer first.

Last week I helped my friend stay put. It's a lot easier than helping 'em move. I just went over to his house and made sure that he did not start to load shit into a truck.

On a stop light green means go and yellow means slow down, but on a banana it's just the opposite. Green means hold on, yellow means go ahead, and red means, 'where the hell did you get that banana at?'

I used to do drugs. I still do, but I used to, too.

My belt holds my pants up, but the belt loops hold my belt up. I don't really know what's happening down there. Who is the real hero?

Wearing a turtleneck is like being strangled by a really weak guy, all day. Wearing a backpack and a turtleneck is like a weak midget trying to bring you down.

I want to be a race car passenger: just a guy who bugs the driver. "Say man, can I turn on the radio? You should slow down. Why do we gotta keep going in circles? Can I put my feet out the window? Boy, you really like Tide."

I played golf. I did not get a hole in one, but I did hit a guy. That's way more satisfying. You're supposed to yell, "Fore!" I was too busy yelling, "There ain't no way that's gonna hit him!"

My name is...wait - what day is it?

My married friends often bust my chops for not posting more about the single life and action on Duval Street. I can sympathize with them to a degree - I mean they log on to see what kind of crazy stuff goes on in Key West, and all I feed them is tales of paddling mangrove tunnels and rising gas prices and book reviews. Granted, not exactly compelling reading, and not much reason to tune in tomorrow to see what happened next. There are several reasons for this, including:
* Both of my parents read this, so I'd rather not tarnish their wholesome view of their son;
* Some past (and potential future) girlfriends read this, so I'd rather not enlighten them with sordid details;
* To be honest there really isn't that much to tell. I love my life, but it's probably boring to anyone that's looking for tales of tourist girl conquests and random Van Der Slooting.

That said...

Friday after work I met with some friends for dinner at Salsa Loca. This is my favorite restaurant in Key West, serving great food at a very reasonable price - which cannot be said about many restaurants on Duval Street. I have a weakness for chips and salsa, and also am unable to leave a single speck of food on my plate. This combination means that I leave there at least 15 pounds heavier, as stuffed as after Thanksgiving dinner. This would all be fine except that this night was only beginning.

One of my friends was moving the next morning, so we were celebrating. Adding several drinks to my already full stomach, by 10 PM or so I was overfilled and about to be overflowing. As we moved from Island Dogs to Irish Kevin's, I came to the sad realization that I was about to throw up. I made my way to the bathroom and waited impossibly long to get a stall (who poops in a bar bathroom??!) so I could have some privacy. Finally the stall door opened and in I went. Ah, relief! I was so happy (as happy as a dude in my condition could be, anyway) only to see that there already was barf all over the toilet. In some bizarre backwards twist of oxymoronic irony, it was too gross for me to barf there. I could only laugh at my sad predicament, wipe the sweat off my head, and walk back out to join my friends while remaining in my private misery. Somehow I survived, even managed to make it until 3 AM until I finally went home.

Saturday night it all started again. This time at least I didn't eat nearly as much, so no probs like the night before. Feeling good, we bounced from The Bull and Whistle to Fat Tuesdays to Sloppy Joe's to Irish Kevin's. While at Kevin's, I was approached by an attractive girl who had a couple of very nice things to say to me. Flattered, I followed her to the back of the bar where we could have a more intimate conversation. Her name was Shea - but no not Shea she clarified, Shay. We discussed her name at length, as it's a name I've always liked. As the night went on and we were periodically interrupted by guys stopping by to say hi, it became apparent that I wasn't the only guy she'd been flirting with. Not surprising really, I mean Irish Kevin's is a bit of a meat market. I said something about the fact that obviously I wasn't the only guy she was interested in, and in her effort to defend her integrity she told me "hey at least I didn't feed you the line that my name was Shay". Oops. I asked what her name really was, and sheepishly grinning she asked me what day it was...

We had a laugh about it, I mean really it was kind of enlightening (and humbling). Men aren't the only ones that bring a fake rap/bio into a bar, and women aren't the only victims of bogus pickup lines. To top it off I didn't buy a single drink all night - I think I like being the hunted, even if it means being lied to.

Book: Into The Wild (Krakauer)

I've written about this already: saw the movie a couple months ago, then bought the book and DVD the next day, etc etc. Obviously this story had a major affect on me. I finished reading the book last weekend, and now I'm depressed - the adventure is over. Same (true) story but with much more detail, including interviews with many of the people whose lives were affected (and altered) by Chris McCandless/Alexander Supertramp.

Unlike the movie, in the book you know how the story ends from Page One. I suppose the author (Jon Krackauer, columnist for Outside magazine) felt that it would help him tell the story, since he's constantly weaving in his own experiences and opinions throughout the book. Krakauer is an extreme adventurist in his own right, having climbed many mountains - in fact I also plan to read 'Into Thin Air', a book he wrote about his tragic trip up Mt. Everest.

Much of his life experience follows a path similar to that of Chris/Alex's, or vice versa. Sometime solitary adventurer, sometime extreme chance-taker, sometime stubborn idiot. It's no wonder I relate to both of them so much...

The book contained many memorable quotes. One of my favorites, from a letter that Alex wrote to the old man in the desert, trying to convince him to change his sedentary lifestyle:

"So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more dangerous to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future.

The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun."

OK now read that again.


I highly recommend the book to anyone who loves to travel, loves the outdoors, is searching for something, or just loves to read. You won't be disappointed.

Mangrove Tunnels

Stalking Geiger Creek for tarpon. I watched a nice one shoot up one of the skinny tunnels that spur off of the main creek. Earlier that morning the tide was high and I wasn't able to get through them, but as the tide went out the tunnels became passable. I followed him in.

As the tunnel tightened I couldn't use the paddle so I just pushed off of the mangroves. Watching the water below as I passed, I saw the tarpon shoot back out right under the canoe: just like that he was gone. I kept going, no longer chasing the fish but instead just exploring.


It felt so secret. Instead of talking to myself like I always do when I fish, I was whispering. Eventually the creek kept going until it snarled up into an impassable mass of mangrove roots, and it was time to give up - and work my way out backwards.



Fishing, hunting, exploring - all great hobbies, even better when you can do them all at the same time.

Up the Creek

Saturday I launched the canoe off of Boca Chica beach (5 miles east of Key West), with plans to explore Geiger Creek. As I paddled across the flat leading to the creek I saw several tarpon rolling but couldn't get them to bite anything. I caught a couple of barracudas at the mouth of the creek, then decided it was time to paddle in and see what I could find. I saw a huge cuda loitering under the bridge, but he was just watching me with no interest in biting (I was alternately throwing a zara spook and a DOA shrimp). I started working my way up the creek, and after a couple big snaps from under some mangroves, I anchored up and started pitching the spook.






I saw a huge cuda come out from a spot under the groves, and watched him follow the spook as I walked it across the water until finally BAM he hit it. I fought him for a minute or 2, until he straightened out 2 of the 3 hooks in the treble that had hooked him, and off he went. Dangit! About this time a kayaker came by from upstream, and I asked him if he'd seen any tarpon. Nope, just snapper, he didn't think any tarpon were in that creek. I knew better so I kept pitching the spook. I threw a perfect cast into the mouth of a little side creek and let it flow up under the overhanging mangrove as I twitched it, and BAM another huge hit. Thinking it was another cuda, I set the hook and brought it out into the open water. About that time it jumped, and I realized it was a BIG (3+ foot) tarpon! Sweet!!

The kayaker dude was freaking out because it was jumping all around him and he was afraid it would swamp his kayak, so I did my best to muscle him over my way - I almost fell in during the battle, to his amusement. After about 10 minutes of fighting him I could see he (and I) was getting tired. He'd stopped jumping and would just surge now and then, so I decided it was time to try and release him. I looked away for a moment to grab my boga grip, and he managed to get some slack and simply spit out the hook. Just like that it was over. Tarpon fishing.

I was shaking for an hour or more after that, such a great feeling! I cast a few more times to the same area, but the battle had cleared the water of any fish willing to bite. I paddled over to where the tarpon had hit, just to see what the area looked like and if it looked like a spot that they might always gravitate to. Sure enough there were several more tarpon swimming down below, not as big as the one I'd hooked but there they were, looking like they were at home. Good to know - I'll definitely be back. After that I paddled all the way up the creek, thru the narrow mangrove tunnels and out into the open water. Caught a couple nice snapper at the mouth, and saw a shark swim by but he wasn't biting. I stopped there and had lunch, still shaking from the adrenaline rush of the tarpon fight. Finally I paddled back down the creek and out into the open ocean and enjoyed the nice day, knowing I was a lucky boy.

Where else would I want to be? Nowhere.