No Friday

This summer, I had one of my more memorable dining experiences.

Accidentally.

The evening started with me ditching work early to head to yoga. After getting my Namaste on and sweating up a storm, I left Shakti and commenced my hunt for dinner. Meagan originally had plans to meet up with some folks from school, so I was on my own. I remembered that I had half a leftover Salumi porchetta sandwich that I left in the fridge at work. I didn’t want to see it go to waste, so I headed on my way back to work towards I-5 in Wallingford to get it.

(Incidentally, I ran into Tony Bourdain at Salumi, another one of my favorite restaurants. He was in Seattle performing the night before, rightly considers Salumi one of the thirteen places in the world to eat before you die, and wishes he could be adopted by Armandino, the proprietor. Unfortunately, I didn’t get close enough to get a good picture, but you can count this as the first of two interesting food experiences that day.)

While waiting at the intersection of 45th and Wallingford, I got a call from Meagan. Her plans were delayed a bit, but she had found “a cute little wine bar” where she thought we could grab a drink and a bite before her postponed meeting. Cute wine bar with Meagan sounded better than a leftover sandwich (even if it was a Salumi porchetta sandwich). Conveniently, the wine bar was at 38th and Wallingford, so I was practically there. I banged a right and pulled up next to the place in a few minutes. I parked in the thirty minute loading zone, figuring it wouldn’t be a problem after 6pm.

Upon seeing me get out of the car, drenched in my sweat soaked surf trunks and workout shirt, Meagan remembered that I had just finished yoga. She mentioned the place looked “a little nice”, and I debatably made myself passable by tucking in my shirt and tossing on a hoodie. We saw the sign for “E.N.D. Wine Bar” – there were two doors, and we chose the one on the left. We walked in, and the friendly host offered us seats at the “chef’s bar”.

We guessed something might be up when we were offered two apertifs as we sat down. When I asked what they were, the host simply said “something to get things started.” Cool? After enjoying the drink but waiting about fifteen minutes without menus, Meagan was getting a little worried about making her meeting, which had only been delayed, not canceled.

A few minutes later, the host dropped by and asked “are there any foods that you don’t like?” Interesting. We politely said no, now suspicious that we were in for something more than a simple bite at a wine bar. A little while later, two glasses of wine showed up and we were served a delicious soup – lentil, I think, but the evening became a bit hazy going forward.

We weren’t quite sure how to handle the situation at this point. I was very much enjoying the experience but it was clear that there was no chance we were going to finish the meal with time for Meagan to leave. After mulling over our options, we decided that I would stay and I’d politely explain our predicament to our host.

I got up from my bar seat, still a bit sweaty from yoga, and went over to chat with the host. I simply said that we were having a great time, but didn’t realize that this meal was going to be more than we had anticipated, that Meagan had to leave in a bit, and that we didn’t want any of the good food to go to waste. He couldn’t have been more gracious, asked when Meagan needed to leave, and wondered if she’d have time for two more courses.

Phew. We relaxed a bit. While we were waiting for the next courses, I recalled that there were two doors to the place, and we started considering the possibility that the wine bar we had selected was actually next door, and the second door that we chose was another place altogether. I whipped out the iPhone, trying to see where we were at, but reception was a bit spotty inside, and my attempting at Googling and Yelping “End wine bar” weren’t coming up with much. I tried hitting Google maps, and the closest place it had near us was “Elemental”.

Interesting, I thought. Elemental has been on my short list of restaurants I wanted to try, but I didn’t really know much about it. I only knew it by reputation as one of Seattle’s best restaurants. I knew it was in Wallingford, knew that it was a chef’s menu with wine pairing type of place, I knew it was small, and I knew the food was meant to be good. So far, it matched my mental conception.

But I also heard it’s really hard to get into since it’s small and they don’t take reservations, so it’s not uncommon to have to queue up early to get in. It didn’t seem like the type of place that two semi-clueless people, one of them looking like he was on the way to or from the beach, could just waltz into at 7:45pm on a Wednesday night. Plus, I was trying to reconcile where this “End Wine Bar” was and why it wasn’t on the map. But I turned to Meagan and said, “I think we might be at Elemental.”

We didn’t quite want to reveal our cluelessness. “Hey, where are we by the way?”, or “Is this Elemental?” didn’t seem like ways of making friends with the staff. So, we mused to ourselves. The next rounds came. I think the next two courses were a mixed green salad and a pan-fried halibut, but mostly I remember that both were awesome and each came with another wine pairing. After finishing the second, Meagan sadly departed, and I settled in for the upcoming culinary adventure. I asked her to text me if she figured out any revealing clues on the way out, but I didn’t receive any, likely since she was in a hurry to get to the appointment. Worried about the past and forthcoming wine accompaniments, she made sure I was planning on taking the bus home.

Meagan gone, I started chatting more with the two chefs working the kitchen. They were both friendly. It was a fairly small and unassuming kitchen, which made me suspect maybe we were at a wine bar after all. Or not. I didn’t know. Occasionally I’d hit up the phone to see if I could decipher it, with most clues pointing towards Elemental, but I didn’t know for sure. The suspense was both killing me and making me enjoy the meal all the more.

More food and wine kept arriving. I remember a cheese course, a tomato tart, a clam and potato ravioli with a saffron sauce, and a hanger steak. As the wine kept pouring, and my rapport with the staff increased, and I figured at some point I’d have to admit my ignorance.

Sensing a good moment during the ravioli course, I asked, “What is the name of the place next door?” One of the chefs said that it’s “Elemental Next Door” – the same as here, but priced a la carte. I still didn’t make the connection between “E.N.D. Wine Bar” and “Elemental Next Door”. Finally, I broke down. “So, I’m at Elemental then, right?”

They had a laugh. They nodded and said that we didn’t look like we knew where we were when we walked in. Go figure. I explained, despite my cluelessness, that I had been wanting to come here for a while, and the whole situation made the experience all the better, albeit sans Meagan. All the more reason to come back again, intentionally next time.

The meal wrapped up with a trio of desserts, all delicious, none of which I remember, and a digestif. As I was making my way out, Meagan called to let me know she was finished her meeting and was nearby, so I met her outside with some friends. Fairly toasted, I retrieved a few things from my car and headed back home in her car.

The next day, I woke up, a little groggy, took the bus back to the restaurant, was greeted with a $45 ticket for parking in the temporary loading zone (I didn’t anticipate parking there overnight at the time!), and proceeded to inspect the place in the light of day. I snapped a few pictures.

Yes, it was indeed Elemental, although given the subtle white on glass writing, I think I could be forgiven for not noticing it on the way in!

I am definitely looking forward to a return visit, knowing what I am getting into, and with Meagan able to enjoy the entire experience.

Ten years ago today, I moved to Seattle. I guess I can officially call myself a local now.

I never really expected to be out here this long. Before coming here, I was two years out of school and working in my first “real” job since graduating as a software engineer at a hardware company outside of Boston. I loved living in Boston – a young, fun, lively city with “east coast grit” – but despite having great co-workers, I didn’t really like my job.

A good friend of mine from college called me up, letting me know, among other things, that Amazon was hiring. It took a bit of a sell to get me to move to Seattle, since I preferred to stay in Boston and my family was on the east coast. But the temptation to do something different, and the persistence of my friend, were both too strong.

I remember thinking – “I’m 24. I’ll just move out for a couple years and then eventually move back east.”

Well, a couple years is now ten, and counting. The mountains, the weather, my friends, Meagan, the hipster-intellectual vibe, the active culture, and the tech environment are among the many reasons that I love living here.

It’s still difficult for me that my parents and most of our families are on the east coast, but I am pretty happy with the life I’ve built here.

I’ve been a huge slacker in processing my photo backlog. I still have a bunch from Seafair 2009 to go through! I built a new computer a few months ago in order to have a faster photo “editing” computer (really, “editing” == “filtering with Lightroom”), but that hasn’t really motivated me. Too many weekends travelling, biking, or skiing, I guess.

Better late than never.

These pictures are from our trip to the Big Island of Hawaii for Spring Break this past march (at least it’s still 2010).

We had a great trip, most of the details of which I no longer remember. We stayed at the Fairmont Orchid on the Kona side of the island. It was a fantastic place, and my only regret was not spending a night or two closer to the volcano. We made a day trip there early in the week, and let’s just say, it’s a big island.

The trip included a few adventures: snorkeling, trekking around the volcano (sadly the lava wasn’t really flowing), and a super-cool night time snorkel with the manta rays – highly recommended. It also included a lot of lounging by the pool, reading, drinking, and eating.

We also hung out a bit with our friends Cole and Nancy, whose Big Island vacation overlapped a few days with ours. A definite highlight of the trip was a chill dinner with them on our last night at the Manta Pavilion & Wine Bar at the Mauna Kea Beach Hotel. Awesome view, unique menu, and a card-operated, pay-by-the-ounce, wine dispensing system – you have to see this thing to believe it.

We’ve now crossed three islands of our list: Kauai (my favorite), Maui, and the Big Island.

A few photo highlights:

And you can view the rest on Smugmug.

After almost ten years of living and biking in Seattle, I finally did the Seattle to Portland ride this past Saturday. I was pretty stoked and proud to survive the ride and finished a lot stronger than I thought was possible.

The ride itself? Long, hard, and fortunately, mostly uneventful. I read this blog post the night before the ride, and I think it sums up the ride fairly well:

“For the most part everyone is unfamiliar with group riding and incapable of holding a line or passing safely. The route is never far from a freeway, strip mall, gun show, airport or industrial park. And it’s sometimes near all five simultaneously. This event is clearly not done for the atmosphere or unadulterated joy of it all. … In fact why does anyone do it?”

Perhaps a little harsh, but a good question.

Preparations for the adventure started a few months ago, with lots of organized and informal weekend rides, including the Chilly Hilly, Bremerton Red Cross Lifecycle, Flying Wheels, Livestrong Century, and last weekend’s epic training ride. The past week’s dinners included lots of carbs – an awesome dinner at Tavolata on Thursday with my visiting parents, brother, aunt, and uncle was certainly a highlight – and culminated with a big bowl of spaghetti the night before the ride.

After dinner, I finished the pre-ride packing – I wanted to make sure everything was laid out and ready to go for an efficient departure after the oh-so-early 3:30 am wake up call. Water bottles, energy bars, energy gel, shorts, jersey, socks, shoes, chamois cream, pump, tubes, CO2 cartridges, sunglasses, sunscreen, bike GPS, helmet, gloves, registration, jacket, breakfast…check.

Preparations complete, I tucked into bed around 9:30 – way earlier than normal. I am not sure when I finally nodded off, but it was a pretty restless sleep. I was excited for the day ahead and worried I was going to sleep through my wake up alarm.

Around 3:10am, I woke up, and knowing I wouldn’t really fall back asleep, I decided to roll out of bed and get ready to ride. I made some coffee, forced down some bananas and a croissant, said bye to Meagan and the dog, and was on the bike around 4am.

Our designated meetup was at the Leschi Starbucks at 5am so as to avoid the mayhem at the starting line. But as this was my first STP ride, I wanted to check out the mayhem, so I met up with Robert on the Burke-Gilman in Wallingford, and pedaled over towards the E-1 lot at UW to gaze upon the scene. There were indeed a lot of riders piling up at the start line, so after a few minutes we turned around and headed down the Burke-Gilman and towards Leschi.

We met the crew at Starbucks. Everyone except Pete, of course, gradually rolled in around 5 am. Dana gave us some homemade rice, egg, and bacon energy bars, which were a tasty alternative to the usual Clif bars. We waited a bit for Pete, but ultimately decided that he could easily catch up with us. A few miles into the ride, our thinking was confirmed when Pete cruised along side of us. No latte this time. I decided to ditch the Tyvek jacket at the Starbucks since I was feeling warm enough in the short sleeves and figured it would only get warmer. That turned out to be a bit short-sighted.

The plan for the first part of the ride was to only make two stops, at 50 and 100 miles in. Early on, we kept close to plan, forming and joining a few nice, fast pacelines. It’s amazing how fast you can go when you have a whole lot of people doing the pulling! Somewhere south of Renton, though, my front wheel took a bit too much pothole abuse and I got a flat.

Repair was relatively quick, but after pausing for a minute to make an extra adjustment to the wheel, I fell behind the pack. I struggled for about twelve miles to catch up, when I quickly learned the value of riding in a train. I finally caught up at the 50 mile rest stop in Spanaway, but I was feeling a little worn and worried that I might have gone out a little too hard too early.

The bananas, oranges, and other snacks refueled me a bit, and after filling up the bottles, we hit the road and continued the journey south. Next stop: Centralia College. I think this was one of the nicer parts of the ride, with a long stretch along a dedicated bike path.

As we rolled into Centralia, some kids were handing out creamsicles as we rode by. I grabbed one, although I nearly knocked one of the kids over. After we slowed to a stop, I thought better of eating the creamsicle, thinking that a lump of ice cream in my stomach combined with the still chilly air wouldn’t be a great combination. Why did I chuck my jacket back in Leschi?!

We took a relatively long breather, munched on some more sandwiches and fruit, and after refilling the bottles again, continued on.

I was feeling pretty strong for the second half of the ride. Around mile 143, we passed by an unofficial rest stop at Castle Rock High School but decided to hold off for the free one ten miles ahead. A few hundred feet after we passed the school though, I could hear my front brake starting to rub against the tire. Just as I was slowing down to check out the noise – pop! A loud noise emanated from the front tire. Clearly a flat, and upon further inspection, the rubbing + explosion caused a moderate tear in the tire. When I rolled the wheel, it was way out of true. I was worried this could be a big problem.

I started walking back to the rest stop, which fortunately was only a seven minute walk or so at this point. Ming rode ahead to check out whether there was a repair stand. As I was walking back, I saw a Pedros repair van drive by. I tried to flag him down, but to no avail. It turns out he was heading to the high school to set up a mobile repair shop. Sweet!

I was totally lucky. They were still setting up their tent and repair stands when I made it there, but the techs were super friendly and helpful. I only had to pay their cost for the new tire – labor was covered by Cascade. So for $25, I got my wheel trued, tube and tire replaced, and a spare tube to boot. We grabbed some more snacks and water while they did the repairs, but in less than twenty minutes, we were back on the road. We made another pit stop at the official stop at Riverside County Park a few miles up the road before continuing on our way.

We did see this sweeeeet recumbent though. This one’s for you Dan.

Around mile 150, we crossed the Lewis and Clark bridge, a large iron bridge. This was probably the scariest part of the ride. The ascent was really slow due to the steep hill and few opportunities for passing with the relatively heavy traffic. The descent was the treacherous part – a very fast decline with lots of expansion joints. I was hoping that my recently repaired wheel would stand up and fortunately it did.

I was quite surprised to see the “Welcome to Oregon” sign as we made it to the top of the bridge. I didn’t really check the route out beforehand and assumed that we wouldn’t change states until right before Portland (e.g. on I-5). But the last 50 miles roughly parallels the Columbia River on the Oregon side. Go figure.

I kept expecting to hit the wall at some point but some of our strongest splits, averaging over 20 mph, were in the last fifty miles. We were able to tag along to a few well-paced trains, which eased the pedaling a bit and provided some good motivation. Riding along Route 30 was less than scenic, but at this point, the main focus was getting to Portland.

We stopped one last time at St. Helens for one last break before the final push. I was still feeling good, but my feet were starting to burn and it was getting a lot warmer out. No jacket needed now! When I saw the large bowl of watermelon, I immediately grabbed a slice, kicked off the shoes, and flopped in the grass. It was nice rest. We grabbed some more food, filled the bottles again, and pedaled off. Twenty-five miles to go!

When we passed the “Entering Portland” sign, I knew that we were just on the outskirts of the city, but it was still a very welcome milestone. We were almost there. We pedaled up and around a few hills and across the city. As we rolled into the Northwest part of downtown, we started hitting stoplights every block and my impatient desire to finish was getting hard to reign in.

We had a brief moment of comedy as we were delayed by a sailboat opening the North Steel drawbridge across the Willamette. Once the bridge reopened, we continued to the east side of town, up and around another hill and onto the last stretch before the finish line. When I saw the “Finish” sign, I was stoked.

We had to wait at one final stop light before crossing into Holliday Park. But the light turned green, and we pedaled the last few hundred feet through a nice cheering section and crossed the finish sometime around 6:45 pm, 204 miles from Seattle to Portland complete. I spotted Meagan on the left, which made me happy. We coasted to a stop, picked up our “one day rider” patches, and for the first time in about fourteen hours, I was done pedaling for the day. Woohoo!

After meeting up with the wives and girlfriends, we set the bikes down and made a b-line towards the food stands for the first of many feedings. I opted for a Gyro and then we made our way to the beer garden, where we met up with Pete, Matt, and Dana, who finished a little before us. Meagan only ate a little bit of her noodle dish, so I more than happily helped her finish it.

McGarty rolled in a little while later, so we were just waiting for Robert at this point, who apparently was felled by the same busted tire/wheel problem that I had had, but he had the misfortune of not being near a rest stop. Unfortunately, Cascade’s mobile services, which were fairly prevalent on the early parts of the ride, were in scarcer supply towards the end, as Robert had to wait three hours on the side of the road before being shuttled to the finish line. It certainly made me appreciate my quick repair all the more.

Reunited at the finish line, we hung out for a bit at the beer garden before parting for the day. Meagan and I met up with my west-coast expat cousin Becky, her husband Jay, and their adorable toddlers Abby and June, who were quite eager to see their favorite canine, who was still hanging back at the hotel. So Meagan and I hopped on the MET with the bike back to the Hotel Monaco, where I explained to a few incredulous riders that I did indeed just bike from Seattle.

The rest of the weekend was basically eating, sleeping, and hanging out with the family. Saturday night feeding: Rock Bottom Brewery. Sunday pre-breakfast: a chocolate croissant, berry danish, and a mocha at Pearl Bakery. Breakfast: Baked eggs at Broder. Sunday afternoon, we hung out at a park with Lulu and the cousins before saying goodbye and having one more re-fueling: Canolli and iced mocha at Palio. Portland has some great food places, and I was definitely in a mood to enjoy it.

The drive home was slow going but we managed. We stopped in Olympia for, obviously, more food – decent Thai takeout – before rolling into Seattle around 10pm. I was pretty wiped and ready for bed.

So, why ride 204 miles? I think the previous blogger captured it pretty accurately:

“Inspiration and humility. And entertainment, cycling pride (the loosest possible and most all encompassing idea of it) and for the humanity of it. And maybe because it’s hard and demanding and epic, and because it delivers all the glory through suffering you can take in a paceline led by a dude on a Bike Friday. Ok, and maybe because when else do you get to eat four pancakes, seven Little Debbie’s, a chunk of salmon jerky bought from an American Native in the front seat of a pick-up truck parked on the side of a road, four cokes, a tin of Pringles, three burritos, a plate of lasagna, two whoppers, a cheeseburger, three beers, five power bars, four gallons of water, seventeen electrolyte replacement drinks and a chocolate milkshake, in one day, without peeing or gaining weight.”

Or, as I put it to Meagan as we were walking to the beer garden after the ride, to be able to say: I just fucking biked to Portland!

Thanks to the crew for a fun ride, to Meagan for driving the support vehicle and providing a welcoming face at the finish, and to all the volunteers and onlookers cheering away!

Till next year? We’ll see.

Ride Data from my Garmin

We’re full on in the middle of summer biking season. With Seattle To Portland (STP) a week away, on Saturday we had our last big training ride of the season before the 204 mile adventure. We’ve had a few long rides under our belts, including the Flying Wheels and the Seattle Livestrong Century, but we wanted a final long ride to ensure the legs were ready for the endurance test. It turned out to be an epic one.

Planning

A lot of our rides had been along the southeast corridor of the city, including Lake Washington and Tiger Mountain road. Wanting to explore some of the eastern country roads, my original suggestion was based on a 65-mile Snohomish/Monroe/Duvall ride that we did last year. The first surprise of the trip was when Ming of all people insisted on both an increase in distance as well as an earlier start time (“to beat the heat”).

No problem. The Flying Wheels ride also had some scenic, untraveled roads and included or was adjacent to the original loop, so the night before, I played around with bikely.com and sketched out a nice 100 mile ride and wrote up a rough cue sheet. The “Joe Summer Century” had been planned!

The Start

Matt, Ming, Pete, Rob, and I convened at 8am at the University Zoka on the Burke-Gilman trail. Nothing really notable, except that Pete, shockingly enough, was late. Amusingly, he got his coffee to go and pedaled the first few miles with a latte. After seeing my cue sheet, Ming was a little disappointed that I didn’t drive out and paint John Henry turn markers on the road.

The Burke-Gilman

The ride started North along the Burke-Gilman trail. We were expecting to see some trail police enforcing the ludicrously low 15 mph speed limit based on some news reports, but due to our early start, we didn’t see any. Most of us were bummed since we were secretly hoping to get a bicycling speeding ticket that we could frame on the wall.

McGarty Goes Camping

We continued along the Sammamish River trail, into Woodinville, and then through some nice winding country roads towards Duvall. We finished that section with a sweet, long descent down Woodinville-Duvall road to Snoqualmie Valley Road.

Thirty-two miles in, we stopped for a quick energy bar and water stop. Rob, responsible father that he is, had to turn back for a nice father-son camping trip that evening, so the four of us ventured on. It was, however, only the first of three visits to this intersection on the trip.

Passing on the Left!

At this point, we picked up part of the Flying Wheels loop, heading south along some scenic farm roads towards Carnation. There was very little traffic, which made for a pleasant riding for most but apparently not all bikers. After riding past Carnation, we caught up with another biker. As we were passing him, he said something to us but we didn’t really hear him. Pete asked him to repeat, and he gruffly responded, “Next time say that you’re passing on the left.”

Wow! I’m all for proper trail etiquette and giving advance notice if passing someone might come as a bit of a surprise. But the road was empty, we passed with plenty of space, and he had a damn helmet mirror so there’s no chance he didn’t see us coming. I loved Pete’s retort. “No. You’re on the open road. There’s plenty of space. Deal with it.” We moved on.

Where’s Stillwater?

At mile 44, we took our first extended stop at the Stillwater Cafe. We grabbed a bunch of Gatorade, snagged a spot in the shade, did the obligatory Foursquare checkins, and munched on more energy bars. We had a laugh when a guy in a truck pulled up, rolled down the window, and yelled something to the effect of “There’s no time for stopping…get back on the bikes!” Nice one. Shortly thereafter, we did get back on the bikes and muscled up the short but steep Stillwater Hill Road.

Communication Breakdown

We completed the Carnation Loop and returned to Duvall at the intersection of Woodinville-Duvall and Snoqualmie Valley Roads, also known as McGarty Corner. We then headed north towards Monroe.

We eventually got to Monroe, but not quite when we originally planned. I mentioned that the route included some of the Flying Wheels ride but didn’t make it clear that we’d be doing some of those parts in the opposite direction. That detail proved important, since we blew past the turnoff to Monroe (Crescent Lake Road) and continued on towards Snohomish. I didn’t quite realize that we missed the turnoff until I started recognizing roads that I wasn’t expecting to see until later in the afternoon.

Arnold Palmers in Snohomish

Oh well. We were feeling pretty good and figured the ten or so extra miles that this variant would add wouldn’t kill us and would prep us even more for STP.

We arrived in Snohomish a bit before 1 pm, 71 miles in. We grabbed lunch at the Snohomish Bakery, and the half turkey sandwich plus two homemade Arnold Palmers absolutely hit the spot. We wisely saved the leftover ice for the water bottles.

We relaxed for a bit and debated a bit about whether to head straight back to Seattle or continue the loop to Monroe. We decided to venture on to Monroe.

The Shortcut

But, to save a few miles, I spotted what I thought would be a good short cut: Tester Road. It was, I thought, a shortcut that would put us back in Woodinville and on the route home a little quicker. It would have, however, what appeared on the iPhone to be the intersection of Tester Road and Route 522 turned out to be Tester Road coming to a dead end underneath a bridge on Route 522. D’oh!

I believe I promised the crew a round of beers for this one. It was only a five mile round trip detour but at this point, every mile was starting to count.

Flats at Dr Max

We retreated back to Monroe, returning to Old Snohomish-Monroe road and started pedaling into the town of Monroe. Right before we got to the town center, Pete pointed out an obstacle, but I managed to run right into it. I have no idea what I hit, probably a big rock, but whatever it was, my front wheel hit went down pretty hard, and I could immediately hear air escaping rapidly. First mechanical of the day.

So, we pulled over at Dr Max Orthodontics, and I swapped tubes. Classic snake bite puncture on mine. Ming also had a leak, so we had a double tire change. This was getting a little comical. 84 miles into the ride, hottest part of the day, and not all that close to home yet.

The Final Push

Fortunately, the rest of the ride went pretty smoothly, if a bit slowly due to fatigue and the heat.. We finished the Monroe loop, returned to McGarty corner for the third and final time, and began the long ascent up Woodinville-Duvall Road. The fast downhill ride earlier in the day seemed a distant memory as we trudged up the never-ending hill.

We made it closer to Woodinville Center, stopped off at a convenience store for another round of energy drinks. Ming had the brilliant idea to buy a bag of ice, which we used to cool off our drinks, among other things.

Refueled, we pedaled into Woodinville and rejoined the Sammamish River Trail and connected with the Burke-Gilman for the final push into Seattle. We were admonished one more time by a group of riders on the Burke for not properly warning them of our pass. Go figure. Once we made it to the UW, we split up and headed home.

The Garmin clocked the ride at 123.8 miles. I was pretty stoked. I was and am still worried about surviving the 204 mile ride to Portland, but I felt that I still had energy in the tank at the end of the ride. So I am hoping with these miles under my belt, plus a much flatter ride on the STP, that I’ll be in reasonably good shape this Saturday to make it to Portland in one day, and in one piece.

What started as the “Joe Summer Century” became, over the course of the day, “The Joe Summer Extended Century Classic”. An annual tradition? Probably not, but despite the long and hot hours riding in the saddle, not a bad day riding with friends.

This past weekend we headed up to Whistler to kickoff the downhill mountain biking season at the Whistler Bike Park. All four of us were sporting new downhill machines and we were eager to get them dirty. I was happy to make the trip after almost bailing due to a last minute stomach flu. Fortunately that proved relatively short lived and I was mostly recovered by the time we started riding on Saturday.

For the start of the season, we didn’t ride anything too gnarly – mostly blues and blacks, but I was pretty happy with my riding on the technical steeps. I definitely need to work on being able to jump the kickers. Every time we rode A-Line, we got passed in rapid succession by groups of locals. It was a little demoralizing. Oh well – room to improve.

Sunday was a little colder and wetter. The wooden structures definitely were a little slick, but I survived the weekend injury free. Considering that I just finished rehabbing my impinged left shoulder from the August Panorama trip last year, I was definitely happy with that outcome. Plenty more time in the season to do more damage!

We closed out the trip on Sunday with some Splitz burgers before heading back home. With the benefits of the Nexus pass and little traffic, we made the trip home in 3 hours, forty five minutes, which is about the fastest return trip in recent memory. Gotta love the Nexus pass.

I took lots of videos with the Go Pro, but your guess is as good as mine as to when I’ll process those, so in the interim, here are a few apres pictures from Citta on Saturday.

Looking forward to a few more DH adventures this season!

Smugmug Gallery

At the bar tonight, I was discussing with a friend a few situations in which I retained the unpaid legal counsel of a good college buddy. My bar friend suggested this might make good blog fodder. So here you go.

Situation #1: Endangering the welfare of schoolchildren

This alleged infraction occurred about two years ago when the State of Washington  conjectures that I was speeding through a school zone.

I composed a five-point legal defense involving constitutional and other irregularities, and I proposed this defense to my friend.

His response: “My advice is to pay the ticket, and to slow down in school zones from now on.”

He continued:

I’m no expert on traffic law or Washington law, but your defenses do not
sound compelling and would probably just annoy the judge (and waste a
lot of everyone’s time, especially your own).  Your “visibility”
arguments are not impressive because, first, the officer’s affidavit
states that there were flashing lights and, second, the logical
implication of your argument is that one need not heed traffic laws at
night (or at 8:30 a.m.), and can drive at any speed you wish, because,
really, who can see signs in the dark?  Now if the particular signs that
were in use here were not reflective or were defective under state law,
that might help you.  But that’s unlikely, and you still have the
flashing lights and the bad atmospherics of your zipping through a
school zone at 8:30 a.m. on a Friday.  The rushed commuter speeding
through a school zone is typically not a candidate for a judge’s pity.

As for “the presumption that the registered owner of the car is the
operator of the car,” are you going to contend that someone else was the
driver?  If so, you have an argument.  If you do not dispute that it was
you driving the car, then the presumption is irrelevant.  Forget about
it.

As to whether a school crosswalk was in the wrong place, should you be
permitted to speed through school crosswalks, as children are going to
school, because the crosswalk painter made an error of a few feet?  I
don’t think so.  You have to heed the posted signs and markings, even if
they were done incorrectly.

Now you might be able to argue that the officer mistakenly ticketed you
at a location where there was no 20 MPH speed limit sign, if he put the
camera in the wrong place.  For that you’d just need proof that the
position of your vehicle (beside that pothole) was not within a 20 MPH
zone.  But it sounds like it was within such a zone.

All that said, it may be that merely challenging the ticket will have a
helpful effect for you, in terms of a reduction or dismissal.  Probably
the officer would need to show up at the hearing to testify to the facts
in his affidavit, and you likely could cross-examine him (although
fruitful areas of cross-examinatino would be few).  He might not show up
at all, in which case the ticket might be dismissed.  To know you’d need
to talk to a traffic lawyer, which would cost more than the ticket.  Or
you could just show up at court.  You’ll get laughed at making arguments
about the Sixth and Fourteenth Amendments in traffic court, unless you
get the ACLU or somebody to take your case.  If it were me, I’d just pay
the damn ticket and be grateful that your taxes are lower because the
state is aggressively pursuing reckless criminal speeders who endanger
our children in school zones, rather than imposing another latte tax
that would adversely impact citizens like yourself who aspire to be
law-abiding.

Awesome. I did choose the “pay the damn ticket” option.

Situation #2: Dog Walking

We hired a dog walker for Lulu. We’re quite happy with her services. Our dog walker did make us sign a contract, and I consulted my friend to understand the details.

First – this is mostly to satisfy my curiosity since I am going to
sign the contract anyway, but at least I am not trying to get out of a
ticket this time…

What does this mean?

“<dog walker> agrees to provide the services stated in this agreement
in a reliable, caring and trustworthy manner. In consideration of
these services and as an express condition thereof, the client
expressly waives and relinquishes any and all claims against <dog walker>.”

If I am reading this right, she only agrees to provide services in a
reliable, etc manner if I waive claims. So in effect, the first part
of this is just filler to make me feel good?

Yes, I am hiring a dog walker…pathetic, I know.

My friend’s legal interpretation:

It means that even though she says she will be nice, she can hack your
dog to pieces with an axe with no consequence.

She also can rob your house and poison your coffee.

Fortunately none of the above has happened so far.

Situation #3: Whales

Meagan hates when I tell this story since I tend to take forever telling it.

Seven years ago, a group of college buddies decided to head up from Seattle to the San Juan Islands to go kayaking for Summer Solstice.

Early that cloudy Saturday morning, we drove north to Anacortes and took the ferry to San Juan Island. Our guide greeted us in Friday Harbor, and we packed the van and headed to the point of departure.

I am sure our guide was worried about what she was in for right from the start. The cloudy weather had turned to a slight drizzle, but we were in good spirits nonetheless. Our lawyer friend was sitting in the front seat, and started chatting up our guide.

“What’s the forecast for today?”

“Hard to say, but hopefully it should be clearing up.”

Some time passes.

“What’s the whale forecast for today?”

“We’ve been seeing whales most days this week.”

“Do whales seek shelter in the rain?”

Oh boy.

Our guide, taking things in stride, stated that the whales weren’t too bothered by the weather and there was still a good chance we’d see the orcas.

A little more time passes, and, shortly before we arrived, our guide handed us a legal release form.  One of us asked our legal friend: “As our attorney, do you recommend that we sign this document?”

He responded: “It’s unconscionable contract of adhesion – just sign it.”

“What’s an unconscionable contract of adhesion?”

“Well, let’s put it like this. Two months ago, we decided, ‘Hey, let’s go kayaking in the San Juans for Summer Solstice.’ So, we organize the trip, some people fly in from out of town, they take our credit cards, the trip is paid for. We drive two hours from Seattle, hop on a ferry, and arrive on the island. They pick us up in a van. We’re mere moments away from kayaking and a cute girl hands you a piece of paper which effectively means ‘Sign this in order to go kayaking.’”

“What are you going to do? Not sign it? I highly doubt it. It’s an unconscionable contract of adhesion, just sign it. It’s legally worthless.”

And then our lawyer pauses as he turns to our driver/guide.

“No offense.”

And that was the start of our epic whaling adventure. We had a great time, despite repeated admonitions to some in our group not to go chasing the orcas from their kayaks. Our guide seemed to warm to our group, despite our shenanigans. At the end of the day, we headed for the ferry and made the return voyage to Seattle.

Until relatively recently, that was the whole story.

Situation #4: Lawyers and Doctors

And then, there was a med school party. I think the email that I sent to the crew entitled “The funniest thing happened the other night” tells the story best.

I was at a small party on Friday night with some of Meagan’s med school friends.

Before dinner, Meagan and some of the med school crew was at a
“Medical Malpractice” mixer sponsored by the first year law school
class to “socialize” with the med school class. Sketchy. Anyway, we
were chatting about that, and discussing legal stuff, and somehow,
software user licenses came up – Meagan asked “are those things even
enforceable? you just download a piece of software and click a button
that says yes”. This reminded me of our kayaking excursion from
several years back when <our lawyer friend> was discussing unconscionable
contracts of adhesion.

So I started telling that story (it’s one of my favorites), talking
about whales seeking shelter in the rain, etc and us asking <lawyer>
what he thought about the release form.

Meanwhile, <Meagan’s friend> is in the other room, overhearing bits of the story,
but apparently not the important ones – she just heard that we had
gone kayaking in the San Juans. She said that she used to give
kayaking tours on San Juan Island. She asked if I remembered who our
tour company was. I didn’t and then she mentioned a few, and when she
said <kayaking company>, I said, that’s the one. She then asked if we
remembered who our tour guide was. I said I didn’t remember her name,
but it was a nice girl from Vermont – as I was saying this, I was
suddenly remembering that <Meagan’s friend> was from Vermont, had spent some time in the Northwest before med school doing outdoorsy stuff, and started
thinking that she bore a pretty good resemblance to our tour guide.
She asked whether we were that large group of people with the two who
kept on chasing the Orcas! I was like, yup, that would be us, and
reconfirmed it when retelling the parts about <lawyer> being in the
front seat.

Anyway, apparently we were her first solo trip and remembers us well
and thought we were a fun group, despite the challenges we presented. Anytime a subsequent group asked about the contract,
she would say “well, on my first trip, there was a lawyer sitting in
the front seat…”.

I still can’t believe the coincidence and thought you guys would get a
kick out of the story.

Maybe writing this story down will mean that I don’t have to tell it quite so often, but somehow I doubt it.

In the time since these incidents have happened, I keep a keen eye for photo traffic cameras (but apparently not for state troopers on I-90), our dog hasn’t been hacked to pieces, and I read release forms a little more carefully (most ski and bike operations are actually pretty good at giving you enough time to opt out, avoiding the “unconscionable contract of adhesion” problem).

But it’s likely a good thing that I keep my friend’s email address handy.

Trying to work through a moderately sized backlog of photos, I finally had a chance to post some pictures from this past Christmas when we were visiting Meagan’s family in Boston.

These are from Metro Rock, a climbing gym outside Boston where Meagan’s brother Will works. Meagan, Will, and Sarah braved the courses while I hung out and snapped pictures. I’ve only been rock climbing once, and until I shed a few pounds, I don’t exactly have the ideal strength to weight profile for the sport. Or maybe I’m just making excuses. I certainly don’t need any more gear-intensive activities.

Indoor light and vantage point were a bit tricky for shooting, but I was happy with a few of them.

I particularly liked Will and Sarah’s efforts at scaling the archway – super cool!

Also, Will recently painted a climbing mural in the women’s bathroom. The girls stood guard so that I could sneak in to capture it.

View the rest on Smugmug:
* Climbing Pictures
* Mural Pictures

This feud is just getting comical.

Background

Since humor seems to be a scarce commodity, let me set the record straight. I have nothing to do with, and really nothing against, Fitz Happens. From what I can tell from Google, he’s a DJ for KKWF the Wolf, a Seattle country music station.

Me? One of my nicknames is Fitz.

Last summer, a lot of Seattle buses had a large “Fitz Happens” advertisement. No graphics, no supporting text, no URL, nothing. I started getting lots of MMS messages and emails from friends asking what is the deal with “Fitz Happens”. I didn’t know. It sounded like a weird sentence (like “Stuff happens.”) rather than a person. But some quick Googling revealed the truth, which is basically what I stated at the beginning of this post.

This is where it gets interesting.

The Fake Fitz Happens

Sick of getting asked, “what is the deal with Fitz Happens?”, I wrote a blog post, farcically claiming to be behind the Fitz Happens advertisement. Hilarious, to be sure. (I am kidding, PR folks at Fitz Happens!). My friends got a laugh. Life moved on.

Or so I thought.

The Myspace Message

A few months passed, and I got an email from Myspace: “FItz [sic] has sent you a new message!” I was curious who “FItz” could be since I hadn’t checked Myspace in ages.

The message is quoted below:

Hi, Joe. Really? You’re responsible for FitzHappens? Interesting because I work with Fitz from Fitz in the Morning and I can assure you that this is really about him, not you. Please keep your delusions in check and stick to reality. We appreciate your immediate compliance. Thanks, Joe! Laura Manager Fitz Projects, LLC

I was on the floor laughing. I didn’t think it would be possible for someone to read my original post and take it seriously, but I was apparently wrong. I guess Laura chose to send me a Myspace message since it’s the only form of contact information on my main webpage.

So I wrote this post in reply. A few months passed and I assumed I was done with the matter. I was, again, wrong.

Third Grade Playground Tactics

I just got the following email from my blog stating that a comment is awaiting moderation:

A new comment on the post #882 “North Cascades Heliskiing Trip” is waiting for your approval
http://www.nofriday.com/blog/2010/03/05/north-cascades-heliskiing-trip/

Author : Fitz (IP: 76.104.163.175 , c-76-104-163-175.hsd1.wa.comcast.net)
E-mail : fitzprojects@yahoo.com
URL    : http://seattlewolf.com
Whois  : http://ws.arin.net/cgi-bin/whois.pl?queryinput=76.104.163.175
Comment:
your writing sucks

“your writing sucks”. Good one. I can’t really verify the authenticity of the sender, so I hope that it’s not really Fitz Happens, but if it is, please stop. It’s embarrassing.

Now the main question – should I approve the comment?

Two weeks ago, I went on my second heli-boarding trip, this time in Mazama, Washington with the North Cascades Heliskiing. (The virgin adventure was in Panorama, BC two years ago).

It would be an understatement to state that the trip did not disappoint. Fantastic snow (the 18″ earlier in the week + cold temperatures helped), perfect weather, gorgeous views, a great crew, and a chopper (piloted by the veteran maverick Seamus) to take you wherever you pleased are hard to beat.

JJ and I did the 5 hour drive on Wednesday afternoon, and our advance scout Peter took one for the team by learning firsthand and warning us exactly where a cop might happen to be. I’d feel bad if I didn’t get a ticket in Montana the previous week!

Upon arrival, we chilled in the luxury mountain cabin at the Freestone Inn, enjoyed some wine and fine beers before resting up for the start of the adventure.

Thursday morning, we awoke bright and early. Breakfast, weigh-in, avalanche and helicopter safety briefings. After signing our lives and future earnings away, we geared up, and hit the slopes.

Blue skies, fresh powder, and epic views reigned supreme throughout the trip. The North Cascades are a really beautiful part of the world. Guide extraordinare and NCH co-owner Ken shepherded us through some great terrain throughout the day.

Thursday night, we headed down to Winthrop for some pizza, retired to the condo for some beverages and to watch some Olympics, but we all passed out pretty early. We did, however, learn the benefits of aerating PBR beforehand for optimal drinking pleasure. Peter and JJ also invented a new cocktail, the Flaming Adirondack Chair, the wonders of which the world will have to await (perhaps the next heliskiing trip).

Friday – more of the same, this time led by Scott. There were a few hiccups getting going in the morning, and we had a mid-morning problem with the starter on the helicopter that left us in limbo for an hour while the backup chopper flew in the “Auxiliary Power Unit”. Fortunately, we had a little advance warning so we stopped in a sunny spot, and JJ and Scott had the brilliant idea to dig a snow pit so we could learn a little more about snow safety.

Turns out, there was a moderate weak layer about 18″ below the snowpack, which Tim had the misfortune to set off later in the day on a boulder drop.

Apres was a fantastic group dinner at the Swann abode, with more than enough food and wine, etc, to go around.

Starting Saturday morning, team JJ, Joe, and Peter had used up 19 of our allotted 21 heli-drops, but we weren’t going to let that get in the way of fun. Joined by Tim, guided by Michelle, we rode till we dropped, racking up a total of 30 runs for the 3 days. Play now, pay later.

Saturday evening, we hit up the restaurant at the Freestone Inn, rested the legs and fueled up on food and spirits. After dinner, we hit up the other house for some post-dinner relaxation. Everyone was in a decidedly more mellow post-skiing mood.

Descending back to reality, on Sunday we packed up and made the beautiful return drive back to Seattle.

Thanks to our awesome guides, Ken, Scott, and Michelle; to Seamus for being able to put down the beastly machine time and again; to Matt and crew for organizing the trip and inviting us along; to Peter and JJ for being a great riding team and for taking top billing in the total run count for the trip; and to everyone else for a great time.

Fantastic trip, one I hope I am lucky enough to repeat.

My Pictures (Smugmug): http://nofriday.smugmug.com/Travel/North-Cascades-Heliskiing/

My Videos (YouTube): http://www.youtube.com/user/nofriday1#p/c/999497F88D843B9F