I forgot how to ride my bike

KiM has been sorely neglected in recent weeks, so today I pumped up her tires and greased her chain and took her out for a quick jaunt before work. I headed a couple of miles out the Dupont Trail, which is marginally rideable when it's dry, and late-season vegetation provides a nice cushion for falls. I was timid, as usual, but for the most part we rocked it, hopping over roots and dodging boulders.

It's always invigorating to get back on the bike after a longish spell away, and between that the stoke I had left over from my semi-successful traverse of the lumpy trail, I was pedaling hard by the time I reconnected with the pavement. At one point I accidentally lifted my foot off the pedal (yes, a platform pedal), and when I put it back down, inexplicably, the pedal was no longer in the same spot. I pressed my foot hard into dead space, which threw my whole body off balance. I banked hard right, swerved wildly, overcorrected, and finally went over, scraping pavement and skin beneath a thick fleece pullover, and ripping a seam in the shoulder of a cotton T-shirt (Most of my clothing is still stowed away and my access to laundry is limited, so I have been wearing a lot more cotton recently.) Anyway, damage was minimal, but I jolted back up consumed with deep shame, wondering if that was perhaps the stupidest move ever made on a bike.

I didn't tell anybody about it today, and certainly wasn't going to write anything on my blog, but I figured I already rode my mountain bike across the length of the Rockies. I can own up to a stupid crash now and again.

Mountain bender, day 7

It had become a challenge at that point - seven days in a row of Juneau alpine; a week of hard hiking and crisp air and the transforming tundra and snow and ice and sun. I already had all the physical signs of a tough week - bloodshot eyes, a grumpy post-hike demeanor and mushy, sore legs that even at the tops of stairs protested loudly for all the mean things I was about to do to them. Could I really pound down yet another mountain? But then Abby stopped me after work Saturday and asked me how I felt about Mount Jumbo. She had never been to the top of Mount Jumbo before. And I realized that a Juneau alpine binge just wouldn't be complete without a little bit of Douglas Island.

I drank four cups of coffee in the morning, in hopes that it would power me through. We started up the mountain, and as soon as I got going, my legs started to come around. All of it - the root-step climbing, the rock scrambling, the skidding and sliding, the downhill pounding - is starting to become routine. My legs protest for the first few steps, but quickly accept their fate and continue the march to happy heights. Abby said my pace didn't seem too slow, although I did lose my balance quite a bit more often than usual, even for me.

According to my GPS and a little bit of guestimation on the peaks where I didn't use GPS, I ended the week with 48.5 miles of walking and 27,200 feet of vertical. In there, I accessed four ridges and four peaks, one of them twice. It was a successful week in the alpine, and a fun challenge. But I think I'm about due for a mountain hangover.

Mountain bender, day 6

I had to clean up and clear out of my temporary room this morning; my throat is sore; my leg muscles are well-blended to the point of being mushy; and to top it all off, blisters are starting to form on the tops of my toes. But when I woke up yet again to clean, untarnished blue sky, and a call from Sean inviting me to try out a new route that I had never even heard of before, I couldn't resist. Bah! Out again.

The guys were going for the Grandchild peaks. I didn't have time before work to go all the way to the top, but I figured it would be fun to traverse a new ridgeline. The guys couldn't really remember where the trailhead started off the Montana Creek trail, and we ended up climbing out of the creek about a quarter mile too soon. We bushwhacked for a half mile through thick blueberry brush, devil's club and several steep drainages before we finally found what turned out to be one of the most well-marked trails I have seen in Juneau.

From there, it was a quick jaunt up to the bowl.

One of the advantages of nice weather in Juneau is a rare opportunity to hike with guys who aren't wearing shirts. :-) I think the sole reason these guys go hiking in the summer is to scout out ski lines for winter.

Time was running short just as the terrain was getting good.

But I did make it high enough to catch a satisfying glimpse of the imposing north faces of Stroller White and Mount McGinnis.

Looking out toward Lynn Canal and the Chilkats. The air was so clear that we could see Mount Fairweather, a 15,000-foot giant far away in the St. Elias Mountains. In Southeast Alaska, Fairweather is our "mountain," our Denali. I've never see it from the ground before.

Another great day! I really can't describe how stoked I am on this week - the challenges, the new experiences, the company, the views, the supreme fatigue ... but I think the mountain bender is starting to wind down. Maybe. Maybe I'll start using that thing again ... um ... it has two wheels and these feet platforms you turn in circles to move it ... what was that called again?