Pics from a plane

I know, I know. No one takes pictures from a plane because the color and features are really flat because you're shooting from 30,000 feet through several panes of bullet-proof Plexiglas. But today was a really nice day for flying. And I got stuck in a window seat on three different legs, drinking the complimentary caffeine and then paying the price with a full bladder while two unconscious strangers slumped over their trays next to me for the duration of the flight. I suffered for these pics, so I'm posting them. Beyond that, I had a good flight and a great, rare evening with my two sisters - sushi and Scrabble. We leave at dark o'clock tomorrow for the long drive. So I'll just leave it at the pretty sunrise over Juneau ...

The Coastal Mountains ...

Morning over a rare nice October day in Ketchikan ...

Mount Rainier ...

To the desert

Date: Oct. 8
Mileage: 23.1
October mileage: 192.0

I was riding Pugsley up the Perseverance Trail today when I ran over a nail (a nail!) that tore a hole in one of the tires (the tire!) I'm worried I may have ruined what happens to be an pretty expensive but well-worn tire. It didn't matter anyway because I had stupidly neglected to bring my repair kit. (My fault, I know). I resigned myself to the five-mile jog home. I was running along the Douglas Highway with a very flat-tired Pugsley rolling beside me when a woman pulled up and offered me a ride into town. I accepted graciously and as she shuttled me the last mile and a half, I learned her name was Robin. It was funny, because last winter, I ripped two valve stems on two tubes and became stranded with my Pugsley way out the Glacier Highway. (It was the first and until today only time Pugsley got a flat) A woman named Robin pulled up in a very similar SUV and offered to let me hang out in her home while I waited for Geoff to come rescue me. It was not the same Robin ... but I have to say, there is no shortage of kind Robins in Juneau.

I leave early Thursday morning for my trip to the Grand Canyon. I believe this will be the fourth time I've hiked Rim-to-Rim with my dad. Annual tradition since 2004. We're hiking Saturday from the South Rim to the North Rim, down the South Kaibab Trail and up the North Kaibab Trail. I'm packing for the trip tonight so I checked out the weather for the places I'll be hanging out this weekend.

Salt Lake City: Rain and snow likely. Highs in the mid 40s. North winds 10 to 20 mph. Chance of precipitation 60 percent.

Grand Canyon: Breezy. Much cooler. Mostly cloudy with a 20 percent chance of rain and snow showers. Highs around 44 on the North Rim to around 71 along the Colorado River. Lows around 22 on the North Rim to around 40 along the Colorado River.

What can I say? I take a little bit of Juneau with me wherever I go.

October sunlight and snow

Date: Oct. 7
Mileage: 22.7
October mileage: 168.9

So my Olympus camera is not broken. What happened is some mud somehow jammed down into the lens area and held the lens cap shut, which is why the camera kept turning off. I finally cleaned it out and it works again. Mud, salt water, snow, ice, falling out of my handlebar bag at 20 mph ... it all just goes with the territory of being my camera. Which is why I don't own expensive cameras.

Geoff is in theory going to be back in Juneau on Wednesday (I say in theory because the last I heard he was leaving northern Idaho on Friday in his rustbucket of a 1989 Honda Civic with 310,000 miles, and I haven't heard from him since.) Anyway, I was going to take a rest day today and knock off a bunch of chores to prepare for his possible arrival (clean the house, call the DMV, mail back that Netflix DVD that's been sitting unopened on the desk for two months, and dig out my big backpack so I could bike commute over to the grocery store and buy just enough food so it doesn't look like I've been eating canned beans and rice for three meals a day.)

Anyway, I crawled out of bed this morning, all pumped up for my mundane plans, when I looked out the window to this completely clear, sunlight-streaked, deep azure sky. And when you wake up to that, in October, you don't fret about covering up the embarrassing evidence of just how deeply you neglect your real life because you spend all of your time outside. No, when you wake up to a sky like that, in October, you go outside.

But because there were chores I really couldn't neglect today, I compromised and went out for a quick mud-and-beach ride with Pugsley. We hit up the Treadwell Ditch Trail until we were thoroughly splattered with cold mud, then went down to the sea to wash it off. The beach riding was great fun. A mid-tide covered a lot of the sand and forced us up in the gravel. We dodged boulders and crunched through fields of frozen seaweed, still frosty where the sun hadn't quite broken through the shadows. I had forgotten just how much Pugsley loves frosty stuff.

The municipal election made for a late night at work, and I found myself riding home at about midnight. Not many people in my small town are on the road at that time of night, and the air hangs heavy with an eerie silence. My breath swirled in a thick cloud around my headlamp and obstructed my vision, so I turned it off. With only a little handlebar headlight casting a thin white beam in the darkness, I pedaled along wet pavement glistening with flecks of ice. I'm still trying to get the hang of my bike commuting routine and still pack the way I did in the summer ... I had only a thin rain shell, cotton socks, no gloves. But I didn't feel cold. White flakes started to swirl through my headlight beam and I realized they were snow flurries. Sun and snow, even light snow, are both rare occurrences in October, and I felt privileged as the only person on the road at the moment, maybe the only person to have had the rare opportunity to pedal through both. It's simple moments like that, that remind me why I actually do enjoy bike commuting. Just like blowing off my daily chores in the morning, it's a regular opportunity to experience simple, satisfying moments that I otherwise wouldn't have.