Did Juneau

Date: Oct. 7
Total mileage: 22.5
October mileage: 145.5
Temperature upon departure: 45

I finally got around to hiking Mount Juneau today. It almost didn't happen. I woke up - late again, of course - to a blanket of thick fog smothering the valley.


"What's the point?" I asked Geoff. "We won't be able to see anything up there." I thought I wouldn't have time before work anyway. I told him I would just go for a quick bike ride instead. He talked me into it.


Before we hit the trailhead, we were already climbing out of the clouds and into the bald blaze of a rare clear day. And then we just hiked - up, not out. The mountainside was so steep that we could peek over the edge at a nearly direct vertical drop into town. If I owned a base-jumping parachute, I think I could have landed on top of the capitol building.


As we watched the cloud cover slowly thin and drift away from the channel, all I could think about was how amazing it was that I could be standing there, on a mountaintop,


less than two miles from my house, on a warm and sunny Sunday morning, two hours before I had be at work for my regular shift,


and I thought, this,


this is why I'm a happy person.

BikeSwim

Date: Oct. 6
Total mileage: 11.5
October mileage: 123
Temperature upon departure: 46

I went mountain biking today. I didn't take my camera because I worried it would be swamped with water. I made a good choice.

We tried out the Dredge Lake trail system today. This area is actually a winter ski trail system, but where there's ski trails in the winter, there's bike trails in the summer, right? It was raining lightly and I expected standing water from heavy showers earlier this week, so I dressed to the nines - neoprene socks, neoprene booties, neoprene gloves, waterproof snow pants, waterproof (read: industrial plastic) shell. Also good choices.

What we found on the web of trails snaking across the rolling moraine beneath the Mendenhall Glacier was mountain biking unlike any I have experienced before. Both comfortable in its ease and confounding in its complexity, I don't know how to reconcile it into a comprehensive description. But I do know this: I like it. Love it. I'm drooling to go back.

We started on a narrow strip of sand separating the flood-level Mendenhall River from a thick wall of trees. The trail quickly disappeared beneath long puddles - nothing unusual, but there was something ominous surrounding these benign mudholes. "I feel like we're in the bayou, and water's just about to come rushing toward us," Geoff said. I laughed. I had no idea.

Less than half a mile from the trailhead, we rounded Dredge Lake and dropped into what appeared to be a small pond. But since we were such a short way into our ride, and since the rain was already finding its way through the armor anyway, we had nothing to lose. We took the plunge.

Held up by glacial gravel as smooth and hard as concrete, we splashed through the clear, cold water, pounded a few hard strokes up a large mound and rolled into the next pond - butts hanging over the rear wheel, lips and eyes pursed shut against the rush of water ... Splashdown. Pretty soon we were kicking against water up to our knees. And then our stems. A mile into the trail, the water level reached waist deep. With legs completely under water, we had to spin frantically against the deadly slowdown that that threatened to inundate us. I can only describe the sensation as kickboarding upstream, or bicycling in one of those dreams where you can't help but move in slow motion. If this kind of riding were its own sport, I would call it BikeSwim.

This ride has so much more going for it, too. We'd rise out of the swamp to hairpin singletrack carving through a canopy of trees so thick that the clearance on either side of my shoulders would have to be measured in centimeters. Then we'd drop back into the water, cross the swamped moraine, and hit the high, root-covered rollercoaster trail in a swirl of autumn leaves. At one point we were paddling (pedaling/paddling, what's the difference?) down the trail when a foot-long carp darted by. And any ride where you can bike through something the map calls Crystal Lake is a good ride.

I don't really mean to sound so giddy, but honestly, this is like discovering that somebody dropped Disneyland's Splash Mountain in my neighborhood, and I can go ride it anytime I want. Only this is even better, because unlike those creepy robots that play the banjo in the dark, this ride's bears are real (I know, I saw a pretty big black bear at close range today.) And you don't have to worry about being wet at the end because, well, that's the whole point.

Next time I go, I'll try to take one of those waterproof disposable cameras. I'd love to take pictures, because describing BikeSwim just doesn't do it justice.

The trouble with commuting

Date: Oct. 5
Total mileage: 45.3
October mileage: 111.5
Temperature upon departure: 47

I made a decision a couple of weeks ago that I was going to work toward reforming my habits to minimalize if not eliminate the use of my car. It makes sense on paper because I'm already accustomed to cold-weather cycling, I already own a nice headlight and set of bike panniers, and I live in an area where I couldn't travel more than 40 miles from my house if I wanted to. Of course, what's easy on paper is definitely not always easy in practice. Gas-guzzling habits run deep, and I'm beginning to realize just how tough continuous bike commuting would actually be.

For starters, I can't figure out how people in wet climates would get around the whole social stigma of showing up at their destination wet and covered in road grit. And I don't mean walking into a store wearing a damp waterproof shell. I mean showing up in a public place looking like a jeep that spent the past hour spinning donuts in a wet gravel pit. I stopped at a grocery store on the way home from a three-hour ride today just to buy a newspaper, and I spent five minutes outside brushing my dirt-covered clothing in a failed attempt to look"inside" presentable.

This also is a huge problem for biking to work. At three miles one way, I can coast there without breaking a sweat, but I can't stay dry. Sure, I can carry dry clothing with me to change into, but this doesn't remove the aforementioned grit-stuck-to-skin problem, not to mention the whole wet hair thing. How do bike commuters keep their hair dry? I know I can lift up my hood before putting on my helmet, but this in the past has not exactly preserved "dry" hair. My only idea was to begin storing a hair dryer at work. I'm not crazy about doing this, though, and I'd love to hear better ideas.

Being wet and/or sweaty in the fall/winter also ups the chance of mild hypothermia. What's comfortable for me to wear while pounding out 20 mph on pavement is definitely not good for stopping for any length of time in a marginally heated grocery store, bank or library. Stop for more than five minutes and my core temperature plummets to noticeably uncomfortable levels. Like today, my wet feet and hands felt fine before my newspaper run, but afterward became numb and stiff. It's fine when I can go straight home and take a warm shower. But what about all the times I can't?

Then there's groceries. Luckily, Geoff does most of the grocery shopping, because I hate it something fierce. So much so that I usually suck it up and spend an hour shopping for two weeks worth of food in one large load. A bicycle necessitates frequent small trips to stores that aren't Costco (A new favorite of mine.) And how will I haul home my 24-packs of Diet Coke? I need these.

Look at me, making pathetic excuses. I'd love to hear some suggestions, especially on the issue of staying as socially acceptably dry as possible. I really don't think those skinny little road fenders are going to do much. I already have fenders on my mountain bike, which I'll begin using exclusively as soon as it gets much colder, and I already know they're pretty close to useless in that regard. But I do have an honest desire to become a dedicated bicycle commuter. I was doing really well before I left Homer, but it was easy in Homer. I Homer, I had a.) an awesome commute route (as opposed to the current one, which in three miles covers all of the only truly awful stretch of bicycling in town.) b.) an employer that didn't mind if I showed up to work looking like a lumberjack who had been out on the job for six weeks. c.) less than a quarter of the rainfall. Bike commuting in Juneau takes true dedication. But I'm working at it. I really am.

Also, I wanted to thank Bone, The Blasphemous Bicycler, for archiving my orphaned Web site on his server. I had no idea it was so easy. I now feel embarrassed to think about all of the money I've thrown down over the past few years just to keep this thing from fading into cyberoblivion because it felt like trashing a cherished photo album. Oh well. In the same respect, I should probably feel the same way about all of the money I'm tossing to Big Oil.

But I need my car.

Well, actually, I don't.