Michael: Solo

Eagle Rock viewpoint
Looks out to the Pacific
Through the Palisades.

Monday, May 27, 2019

There comes a point where, if we acquire enough of the gear for a specific hobby, we’re pretty much obligated to get out there and use it - like it or not.
I’ve reached that point and I’m a bit stressed about the liking part of it.

The hobby in my case is fast packing. I now possess all the tools of the trade; light pack, bivy sack, elephant’s foot sleeping bag, super light down jacket, super light sleeping pad… I should be one happy camper.

Thing is I haven’t taken a solo trip in over 10 years and that kind of gap in time is makes me wonder if perhaps I didn’t enjoy those solo walks in the woods, or why has it been so long since I’ve been out there. Heck, every time I crash my bike I saddle up and get back out there as soon as I can.

I know it’s crazy… but that old “lions, and tigers and bears, oh my!”, still rings through my irrational fear center. Plus as I’ve gotten older, I’ve grown more fond of coming home after even 100ks and taking a nice hot shower every night.

But I’m going to do it and I’m going to focus on the advantages of getting away from it all for just a few days and see what I can see when I’ve got no other voices around me and only the sounds in the brush and my footsteps to focus on.

Michael: A Rooney Flashback

A smear of flowers
Seen through the pulsating rain
Reminds me of you.

Thursday, May 16, 2019

Half my lifetime ago there was a grumpy old commentator that would end 60 Minutes with some good old days rant. He was quite famous and considered quite witty. I feel I am now that dude sans fame and wit.

Yesterday I drove into town, where I get cell phone reception, determined to get wi-fi phone service so I could receive calls at home. I called AT&T and after going through the lottery of choices, I finally hit what I thought was the jackpot that got me through to a human. Unfortunately, the humans I spoke with kept informing the they would be unable to help me as my issue should be handled through U-verse.

This did not go well as the U-verse robo-machine would ask me two questions:1, was this related to this #? And 2, Was this an AT&T serviced phone? When I replied yes, I was kicked back over to the AT&T information line.

After a few rounds of this an AT&T representative told me to just press 0 to any inquiries from U-Verse and eventually I’d get to a U-Verse human. I did and it worked… kind of. I would here a human voice for a bit but then would be cut off.

Frustrated, I decided to just go to an AT&T store. There, the very nice human told me my phone was too out of date and was incapable of wi-fi phone service. I would need to upgrade from an I-phone 5 to an I-phone 6. I suppose I’ll do that one of these days. What choice do I have? It’s either upgrade my phone or try and talk to my mom through two cans and a very, very, very long string.

Michael: A Peloton of Painted Ladies

The horse is so large
It’s gallop is like thunder
That frightens the earth.

Monday, May 13, 2019

I’ve been riding regularly but sporadically this year; if that makes sense, but yesterday, although they’ve been around for a while now, was the first time  I’ve ever ridden with a peloton of butterflies and it was both a childlike delight and a recall of old motorcycle days.

The childhood delight was hanging out with so many butterflies in Southern California. More than I can ever remember. It felt like riding through the Little House on the Prairie fields with that goofy theme song playing in the background

As for the motorcycle reference…As an adult I road a motorcycle for thirty years and do know for sure I received some hard knocks from insects, rocks and even a bird. And at 60+ mph those can give an audible and tactile thwack. Though I only reached two-thirds of that speed on the bike yesterday, some of those butterflies kamikazeed me in a way that reminded me of my old MC days.

Note to SoCal riders who haven’t started up this year yet; good sunglasses and a helmet and keep your mouth shut on the down hills and breathe through your nose.

Michael: Spring?

Sleeping on the floor
Folding into each other
Like newborn puppies.

Thursday, May 9, 2019

This is what I wore to stay reasonably comfortable on a mid-day spring ride in the ‘perfect’ weather of Southern California:

Shoes
Socks
Knee warmers
Bib shorts
Short sleeve jersey
Vest
Arm warmers
Gloves
Helmet liner
Helmet
Sunglasses

And although I’ll admit to disliking the cold, I doubt this was an atypical kit for any rider out there on a day like it was yesterday.

 I’ll also admit that while I’m a fairly soft spoken person, heck sometimes I can’t even hear myself, I’m also not an atypical rider in that my kit can be very LOUD.

Ahhh…the paradoxes of  living the life in SoCal has to make you chuckle once in a while.

Michael:Encounters

The half eaten hare
Protected by the rattler
Will soon be devoured.

Monday, May 6, 2019

It’s not even summer yet and already I’ve encountered more rattlesnakes than I can recall coming across in a single year. On Friday I crossed the same snake’s path twice and neither of us was very happy about it, though I lacked a distinctive rattle, or even my typical short yelp, to indicate my displeasure.

This snake was about a mile or so up the Ray Miller Trail and was curled up partly on the trail and partly under a mustard plant. I was able to scooch it off the trail by stomping my feet but not without it giving me a good wag of it’s distinctive tail. And in just a few feet I found out why it was so agitated. There was a half eaten bunny about 15 feet up the trail.

Initially, this puzzled me, as I figured the forensic file worthy bunny couldn’t have been the snake’s kill because snakes don’t chew their food. But whatever, I was flagging for my hiking group and really didn’t have a whole lot of time to investigate, so I’ll admit, I sullied the crime scene and kicked the bunny aside so as not to startle our guests. And then I didn’t think much about it.

Until, on my way back down Ray Miller, I saw 4 older women stopped at about the same spot as I had come across Mr. Rattler earlier in the morning.
This time he was curled up next to the corpse of the bunny and the women were wondering if I knew what was the best way to get by. They had a couple of feet long branch they were thinking of poking the snake with, but I proposed that since the snake was curled up next to it’s prey, it probably wouldn’t be very happy about being poked and might possibly leap a few feet to strike at whomever was trying to separate it from it’s next meal.
I thought it might be wiser to climb up and around on the hillside opposite the snake to give it some distance.

After I had made a successful crossing to reach them, they decided to give it a go. And, as opposed to the forensic file stories on T.V., we all went merrily on our way and the true killer of the bunny was never revealed and now will undoubtedly never be thought about again as much of the evidence now resides in the momentarily well fed rattler.