Everyday beauty

Date: Sept. 20
Mileage: 30.0
September mileage: 500.9

My habit of taking a camera on every bike ride has evolved into a habit of taking a camera essentially everywhere I go. Dentist appointment ... grocery store ... going to pick up a friend at the airport ... no matter where I am, there's a good chance I have my little bombproof point-and-shoot in one of my pockets. And although I generally only take pictures when I'm hiking or biking, every once in a while I stumble across a Kodak moment during my day-to-day life. Like this morning, while I was sitting at my kitchen table downing yet another meal of chocolate-flavored Honey Bunches of Oats (they were on sale), I just happened to glance out the window and see a rainbow stretched over Douglas. So I carried my cereal out to the deck and snapped a photo. (And really, how many cheap basement apartments do you know of that have a view like that? Another benefit of living in a city etched into a mountain.)

Then there was the morning ride with Terry up to Eaglecrest. I was trying to break in Pugsley, who has had a pretty lax summer, for the everyday grind with nice, steady climb. Sunlight filtered through the clouds all morning long, and the sky was just clear enough that I could see the mainland from the ski hill for the first time in ... I don't know ... weeks at least.

At about 3 p.m., I was typing away at my office computer when I saw more hints of sunlight streaming through the window. I walked out on the balcony and watched people fish for chum salmon in a heavy downpour while sunlight flared through a clearing just to the north. The fishermen were all far away from where I was standing ...

So I walked downstairs to buy a Diet Coke from the vending machine and snapped a few more photos.

I left work for my lunch break right around sunset. Before I drove home to make myself dinner (I promise it wasn't Honey Bunches of Oats), I stopped at the Salmon Creek inlet and stood by the highway bridge, just drinking it in.

All the while, right behind me, Observation Peak loomed with a healthy coat of new snow. I thought about how much I would love to be up there at that exact moment, feeling my heart pound and lungs burn in the alpine air while the sun cast an orange glow over snow-dusted boulders. Why, I thought, why couldn't the summer of 2008 just have given me a single 10-hour weather window while I wasn't at work to climb that peak before winter set in? And yet, as I stood next to the highway and my office building and an industrial-zoned section of Juneau all bathed in golden light, I didn't feel too bad about it.

I can't climb mountains every day, but sometimes everyday life is just enough.

Monkey makeover

Date: Sept. 19
Mileage: 61.3
September mileage: 470.9

So my dream of riding the Golden Circle next weekend is really starting to take shape. The weather is so far looking like it will be fairly nice (you know, for early winter.) I contacted my friends Anthony and Sierra in Whitehorse and they're willing to put be up on Thursday night and possibly even ride part of the tour with me. (I owe those two enough favors at this point that I'll probably just have to promise them my first born.) Then I started to seriously consider which bike to use. I no longer trust my clankity, creaky touring bike, at least out on my own in a fairly remote part of the world. But it also seemed a little silly to take a mountain bike on a 370-mile road tour. But then I wondered ... what if I turned my mountain bike into a touring bike? I spent the evening in my friend Terry's garage last night wrenching the bike and discussing the logistics. Then, today I dropped by Glacier Cycles to make it reality. The result is my new-and-improved Karate Monkey, KiM ... the lean, mean, remote-Alaska-road-eating machine:

I've had this rigid fork since I got the bike - it was the fork that came with the frame. I stuffed it under my bed in favor of a Reba suspension fork, but kept it around so I could switch it out for winter riding. Since winter is all but here, I figured I could get a jump on it and switch the forks now. It'll mean riding rigid on trails for the rest of the fall (likely on my Pugsley). But it should also be a better fit for my Yukon tour.

I also bought these "skinny" touring tires to roll better on pavement but also chew up the potential gravel and mud without too many problems. If there's a lot of ice and snow out there, that's another thing. But if there's a lot of ice and snow out there, well, that's another thing.

But that's also why I started to think more seriously about bringing all of the camping gear I'd actually need to spend a night out, and not just relying on Sierra and Anthony and Yukon motels. I was also thinking more that as long as it's not raining, a campout along the Haines Highway may even be fun. So, basically, I outfitted KiM with svelte new tires and a sleek new fork and then packed her up like a pig. On the handlebars I have a North Face sleeping bag rated to -20, a 3/4" Thermarest and a Black Diamond winter bivy sack. The seat post bag has a spare tube, my rain pants, an extra base layer, a down coat, mittens, extra socks, a balaclava and some thermal pants (did I mention I'm expecting winter weather?) All I have in the frame bag right now is my water filtration bottle (I'm planning to carry the rest of my water on my back.) There's obviously a lot more room in there than what I'll need to carry a day's worth of food and the miscellaneous other things I'll need, so I may rethink the packing up front or in back. Or I may just carry more stuff than I need. Nothing wrong with that.

The front bag may look like it would really mess up the handling, hanging off the handlebars as it does. I rode it around my block a couple of times and didn't notice any problems. I'll probably take it out for a longer ride when it's drier just to make sure. I think everything put together in that bundle weighs only about five or six pounds, so it's more bulk than weight. There's also the consideration that I will be riding exclusively on roads, so the handling can be more sluggish without problems. Although it does seem a shame to blast right by the mountain biking capital of the north and not even hit up any singletrack, I simply won't have time.

All of my bike bags are the same Epic Designs bike bags I used on my Pugsley in Iditarod Trail Invitational last February. The front bundle was specifically designed for my pig of a minus 40 degree sleeping bag, so it doesn't cinch up as tight as it could over the "small" minus 20 degree bag, which is why I'm getting some bulging (the clearance is still fine.) The frame bag is also too big for the Karate Monkey. But beyond that, all of the gear transferred really well between bikes and different uses. I should mention that Geoff used that exact frame bag and seat post bag during the Great Divide Race. Epic Designs: It's the gift that keeps on giving.

I feel really excited about the prospect of this trip. I should feel more nervous. I did the exact same bike tour a year ago and spent two months preparing and training for it. But what a difference a year can make ... I know a lot can go wrong and it will be hard either way, but I feel a lot more confidence in my abilities, in dealing both with the physical challenge of the mileage and the psychological challenge of the remoteness. I rode my touring bike out to the end of the road today as the mechanics at Glacier Cycles were working on KiM. It was one of those days where I rolled into Echo Cove and despite steady rain and cold wind gusts, I really wished I could just keep going. Sometimes, you just need those open miles. Sometimes they just call to you.

Photographs of fall

I set out to traverse the Juneau Ridge today but got shut down, again, by cold and clouds. I can't believe that summer is over and I haven't even hiked the full Juneau Ridge yet, let alone Observation Peak or a Blackerby-Juneau and/or Juneau-Roberts epic. It's definitely been a dud of a season as far as my mountain ambitions go. At least there were good colors today, despite the flat lighting. Autumn is actually past its peak at higher elevations. It won't be long now until snow settles in to stay.

Ebner falls, with autumn just starting to emerge at lower elevations. I mostly took this picture as an excuse to take a break during the lung-busting climb.

Ah, the city of Juneau. Next week will be the last for cruise ship visits. The first day the cruise ships stop coming is always a strange one, because the population suddenly drops sharply, the downtown shops close up all at once, and I no longer ride by tour buses full of people all staring out the window (the people on city buses never look out the window). It's a nice, quiet time of year, but there's a sadness to it, too.

The always photogenic first pitch after Mount Juneau.

As I crested the peak and started to descend the ridge, I had to fight this wild, frigid crosswind. It pushed with enough force that I felt like I was about to blow off the mountain. Based on past experiences with strong winds, I'm guessing the wind was gusting 50 to 60 mph. The temperature at 3,500 feet was maybe 40, likely high 30s, which would put the windchill at about 20-25 degrees. It felt like it! I wore only a fleece pullover, a rain jacket and no gloves, so every gust blasted me with wintry cold. I knew there was no way I was going to spend two hours traversing the ridge in that kind of wind, but I had hiked all the way up there and thought I should at least enjoy as much of the scenery as I could bear. That turned out to be 45 minutes out, and a fairly uncomfortable 45 minutes back.

I was really, really cold in this picture ...

But that was mostly because I stopped long enough to set up my camera's self timer twice. I just wanted a portrait picture with the crimson-colored tundra. This is the failed shot, because I didn't turn around in time. But now that I look at it, it turned out to be the better picture.

As expected, the clouds finally sunk below the ridge line, so it was a good thing I aborted my mission. After my Blackerby Ridge experience last month, I'm terrified of getting lost on ridges in the fog. It would be even worse to be lost when I'm already uncomfortably cold and wearing every piece of clothing I have with me. Fall is here and winter is coming, so I have to remember to prepare better every time I go outside. It's a harsh, hard time of year, but it never fails to be interesting.