Stuck in the snow on Thomas CreekI christened the New Year by going for a ride. I had intended on cutting across Huffaker, climbing to the forest service road that goes across to Thomas Creek, crossing Mount Rose highway and dropping down to Washoe Valley, riding up to the Virginia City highway and then taking Miraloma back up to Hidden Valley, to home (about 35 miles). I had been on the forest service road once before, but couldn't exactly remember how I got there, so I went exploring. Riding into this neighborhood above Lakeside there is a big sign No Public Land Access (Note to self: don't trust signs). I gave it a shot anyway and then around the corner there is a road leading straight up the hill to public land. Go figure. Pretty much as soon as I hit the forest service road I knew I wasn't going as far as I'd planned. As it climbed the road turned from mud into snow and I got to really test my Cross Check in the snow. It didn't go to well. I just spun too easily and ending up sliding, then having to restart. When I made it twenty or thirty yards it felt like victory. In my defense, however, I think it would have been a little better if the snow had been fresh, this was crusted and driven over, with a layer of ice. I cut across into a subdivision, but wanted to at least make Thomas Creek, so I climbed back up the forest service road and then pushed about a mile uphill in the snow, cursing myself for not giving up and taking the easy asphalt back down the hill. I don't know why I wanted that abuse, but finally I crossed the divide into Thomas Creek and had a brief but awesome downhill in the snow, amazing how much better you can go with a little help from gravity. It was late by then, so I coasted down Mount Rose highway (sweet going 40+ not pedaling after pushing for an hour or so) and then had some Del Taco. Bring it on 2009!
Yesterday, January 27, the date this was originally published, Renee and I drove up and went snowshoeing at Tahoe Meadows. It is so amazing to get into the real mountains, and certainly hard to do by bicycle at this time of year. The snowshoeing was actually great, prompting me to think I am going to go snowshoeing by car again at least once. Snowshoeing is in definitely one of the best all-purpose workouts imaginable: the best motion being a mix of dance, sprinting, pedaling, hiking, and beauty.
There is a feeling given by being in an alpine environment in the winter: on one hand the extreme beauty, a crispness and brightness to the world that is almost painful, a beauty that is tempered and heightened by the underlying knowledge that one is not really supposed to be there, that human society could never have developed in such extreme conditions, that upon perceiving such an environment, one is experiencing something special and unique. Consider how few people experienced these moments before cars and trucks could carry us into the mountains. Two local examples come to mind: the Donner Party and Snowshoe Thompson. About the Donner Party little needs to be said, but consider that abject terror they must have felt upon seeing those snow-covered peaks. Snowshoe Thompson was a pioneer who carried mail for many years across the Sierras (from Placerville to Genoa following more or less the route of Highway 50, see http://www.boogman.com/sst/sstsm.htm) by ski. While I am sure he appreciated the mountain's beauty, he didn't go into the mountain for thrill alone; at the time he provided the only link between the eastern front of the Sierra and the outside world during the winter months.
Up there, though, off of Mount Rose Highway, I started to think about what winter sports really mean for society. With global warming having already moved spring back on average a week, what is the ethical response to winter sports? Consider this: for most winter sports (except on those awesome days when the lowlands are covered in snow), one must drive in a single party (even if more than one individual) usually for some distance, park, crush the snow around, drive back home. For those who go to the ski resorts, (think of the imprint of someone flying from a tropical region!) the petroleum use is tripled, all food and supplies are ferried in, polluting machines are made to create the snow, natural vegetation is removed, polluting machines carry one up the mountain. The only non-polluting part of the entire adventure (and the only moment of [sic] human power) is one's descent. How does one justify this? By the thrill.
But think about the thrill if this entire complex was built differently. If one rode or biked to a sustainably powered transport that carried them up the mountain. If sustainably powered lifts (or better still, the person's own power) carried them up still higher. If from the top they looked out across the expanse and knew that being there they were not contributing to the stranglehold petroleum/fossil fuels have on the planet?
Yesterday, January 27, the date this was originally published, Renee and I drove up and went snowshoeing at Tahoe Meadows. It is so amazing to get into the real mountains, and certainly hard to do by bicycle at this time of year. The snowshoeing was actually great, prompting me to think I am going to go snowshoeing by car again at least once. Snowshoeing is in definitely one of the best all-purpose workouts imaginable: the best motion being a mix of dance, sprinting, pedaling, hiking, and beauty.
There is a feeling given by being in an alpine environment in the winter: on one hand the extreme beauty, a crispness and brightness to the world that is almost painful, a beauty that is tempered and heightened by the underlying knowledge that one is not really supposed to be there, that human society could never have developed in such extreme conditions, that upon perceiving such an environment, one is experiencing something special and unique. Consider how few people experienced these moments before cars and trucks could carry us into the mountains. Two local examples come to mind: the Donner Party and Snowshoe Thompson. About the Donner Party little needs to be said, but consider that abject terror they must have felt upon seeing those snow-covered peaks. Snowshoe Thompson was a pioneer who carried mail for many years across the Sierras (from Placerville to Genoa following more or less the route of Highway 50, see http://www.boogman.com/sst/sstsm.htm) by ski. While I am sure he appreciated the mountain's beauty, he didn't go into the mountain for thrill alone; at the time he provided the only link between the eastern front of the Sierra and the outside world during the winter months.
Up there, though, off of Mount Rose Highway, I started to think about what winter sports really mean for society. With global warming having already moved spring back on average a week, what is the ethical response to winter sports? Consider this: for most winter sports (except on those awesome days when the lowlands are covered in snow), one must drive in a single party (even if more than one individual) usually for some distance, park, crush the snow around, drive back home. For those who go to the ski resorts, (think of the imprint of someone flying from a tropical region!) the petroleum use is tripled, all food and supplies are ferried in, polluting machines are made to create the snow, natural vegetation is removed, polluting machines carry one up the mountain. The only non-polluting part of the entire adventure (and the only moment of [sic] human power) is one's descent. How does one justify this? By the thrill.
But think about the thrill if this entire complex was built differently. If one rode or biked to a sustainably powered transport that carried them up the mountain. If sustainably powered lifts (or better still, the person's own power) carried them up still higher. If from the top they looked out across the expanse and knew that being there they were not contributing to the stranglehold petroleum/fossil fuels have on the planet?
First climb in the mud
Second climb in the snow
Sounds like too much fun!
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