bpope’s blog

Background information: Mt Shasta (14,179′) is near the southern end of the Cascade Range. For more info on the route and the mountain, check out the SummitPost page.

I had been looking to climb Mt. Shasta since I drove from Seattle to San Francisco via I-5 last summer. For miles and miles, Shasta stood alone and magnificent in the distance, an adventure waiting to happen. So this year, after climbing Whitney, I got a group of friends together to make the attempt. Knowing that this year’s snow conditions were good late into the season, we picked a date in mid-July that worked for everyone.

Since most of the group was 100% new to snow travel (i.e. crampons and ice axes), we settled on the most traveled route up to the summit: Avalanche Gulch. Given the difficulty with altitude that we had on Whitney, we decided to spend our first night at the trailhead and second night at Lake Helen (elev. 10,400′ in order to aid in acclimatization. So, on Friday after work the seven of us piled into two cars and started driving for the Bunny Flat Trailhead. We arrived at Bunny Flat at about 11pm, got out of the car and looked up to a clear sky glistening with stars and lit by the milky way. Awesome start to the trip. We stumbled through the dark a little bit to find a campsite across the street from the trailhead, and promptly called it a night.

Group shot at the Bunny Flat trailhead

We got up about 7ish (it’s amazing how easy it is to wake up when you’re camping!) so that most of the crew could go rent crampons/axes. One car of 4 went to get the 6 sets necessary (I was lucky to still have my set from the Stanford Alpine Club). An hour and a half later they got back with two sets of bad news: 1) the cheaper place that we had called earlier in the week that had promised to be in stock had sold out and 2) the place they ended up renting from (The Fifth Season) required that you have super, super stiff boots or they wouldn’t rent crampons without renting boots too. Oh, and you had to be there in person. So, the two who hadn’t gone to rent the gear got back in the car and headed back to town.

Fortunately, the time waiting at the trailhead was nice…it allowed me to take my time packing up and talk to some folks at the trailhead, which was very relaxing. By 11, we were finally on the trail, which put us at Horse Camp (elevation about 7950′) about lunchtime. Horse Camp is a cabin maintained by the Sierra Club Foundation, and is the last stop for potable water.

The thing about Shasta via Avalanche Gulch is not that it’s a particularly long hike in horizontal distance, but you go up a long way in that not so-long distance: over 6000 vertical feet. We had planned to camp the night at Lake Helen, a morraine at about 10,400. The trail winds up rocky terrain to 50/50 Flat, about halfway from Horse Camp to Lake Helen. There, we found some rocky shelters built to protect tents from the wind and lots and lots of pumice. Pumice is one of the coolest rocks there is, in my opinion, and makes you look wicked strong if you take pictures holding big hunks of pumice and don’t tell anyone what it is.

Ethan holding, um...not pumice.

We ran into snow after 50/50, and followed it around to the left of the Lake Helen moraine, which is much shorter than skirting the moraine to the right. Plus, going up the snow route let the group get comfortable traveling on the white stuff in preparation for the next day. We got to Lake Helen by about 5:00 pm which gave us plenty of time to play cards, make dinner, melt snow for water, and enjoy the sunset. We all went to sleep as early as our bodies allowed (unfortunately mine didn’t want to rest until 11 pm) because we were shooting for a 3:00 am start (yeah alpine start!).

Looking up at our route...up the snowfield, bearing to the right of Heart (looks like Argentine) and through a small snow chimney.

As we awoke, and stumbled out of our tents, it was surprisingly warm! I hiked in pants, but with the zippers open for most of the legs, and an R1 over a light shirt. The snow crackled under my crampons, and I took the opportunity to practice some skills: setting a solid measured pace, taking small steps, and front pointing were all on my mind. On Whitney, I had taken the ‘take a bunch of really powerful steps and then rest’ mentality. This time around, I altered my mindset to be a bit more conservative. I felt way faster and more efficient, too. With our headlamps off, we could make out the rock outcropping known as ‘heart’ (I thought it looked more like Argentina though) that we were aiming to the right of, and the chimney through the Red Banks. Looking behind as the sun rose, Shasta cast a perfect triangular shadow over the mist in the valley. Simply awesome. 5:30 am, at 12,000 feet, watching the sunrise and I couldn’t have been happier anywhere in the world. Just think, I could’ve been asleep at home…what a waste that would’ve been!

Mt. Shasta's shadow from the rising sun.

For most people, the trip from Horse Camp to Lake Helen takes about the same amount of time as from Lake Helen to the summit. For our group, that held about true, too. We thought we were way ahead of schedule, but the Red Banks, which looked steep but short, ended up being steep and long! By the time we emerged at the base of Misery Hill (which was actually quite pleasant, I thought), a few of our group were having a bit of trouble with the altitude. From then on, I paid even more attention to small, measured steps, and fell into a rhythm. Step, step, inhale, step, step, exhale…repeat. The vertical feet slipped by, and I barely noticed the effort. I felt great!

Pretty soon we were crossing the snowfield with the summit pinnacle in view, passed by sulfur springs, and found ourselves at the top by 8:15. While not completely alone, the summit wasn’t too crowded, which was really great. We enjoyed the sun (and sustained 30mph winds) for a while before heading back down. The whole crew was in great spirits as we headed down the mountain, trading encouraging conversations with our fellow climbers still on their way up.

We made it!

At the top of the Red Banks, there were two descent options: strap on crampons and descend the way we had come up, or skirt to the climber’s right and go around the edge of the Banks. Most of the group decided to descend the ascent route, but Chris and I opted for something different. I’m definitely glad we did, both for the chance to try something new, and because the views of the Konwakiton Glacier to the east. A 6-foot downclimb and some slipping down a talus slope deposited us back onto the snow, and a short traverse later we rejoined our group on the glissade troughs. (A glissade is a mountaineering term for sliding down the mountain on your butt, using an ice axe to control your rate of descent.) We were a little early in the day, so the snow was a little hard, but we decided to glissade anyway. Now, while way easier than downclimbing the whole way, glissading was still a little strenuous. It also made the 2000 foot descent to Lake Helen go by way quicker.

Suncupped snowfield

After a stop for lunch, and to pack up our things, we continued on our descent, through soft snow to 50/50, then on the trail from there. I was still practically floating on the glow from summitting, so it barely seemed to take any time at all. When I looked back up the mountain from the parking lot, with the chimneys of the Red Banks so small in the distance, I could barely believe that we had just descended from the summit. Definitely one of the best weekend adventures I’ve ever had!

Some closing thoughts:
- On both Whitney and Shasta you have to pack out your poo. While the Whitney “pack-out bags” seem a bit more secure, the Shasta kits win the prize for humor. They offer a paper sheet to aim at, literally. It looks much like this:

- I felt amazing on the mountain, even at altitude. I could tell there was less oxygen, but I didn’t even get a headache. I attribute this to a few things: camping at 10,000′ helped a lot, i really paid attention to eating/drinking, and this time the vagaries of altitude decided to not effect me.
- I’m looking forward to going back for a few reasons. On my to-do list is learning to downhill ski. I think a ski-descent of Shasta is a must! Also, I’d like to get better at glacier travel, so the Hotlum Glacier has my name written all over it.

Background info:  At 14, 505′ Mt Whitney is the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States.  We chose to take the Mountaineer’s Route up the mountain, a less popular, more strenuous, and in my opinion wayyyy more beautiful way up the mountain.  For more details about the route, check it out here.

I didn’t do my homework last summer.  In years and years of school I probably missed one homework assignment, maybe two at most, so it figures that not doing my homework would start to catch up with me outside of school.  Having not done my research, I had no idea what an early deadline there is to get permits for Whitney!  This year, though, I was prepared, I was going to get a permit!  Funny thing about a lottery, though…sometimes you don’t win.  Undeterred, my two coworkers and I had noticed that earlier in the season there were always lots and lots of no-shows.  So, we (Chris, Ethan and myself) took off on a likely seeming Friday afternoon, hoping that there would be a few less enthusiastic permit holders.

We drove a few hours from Cupertino to crash with a friend of mine in Fresno (thank you @teaganita).  The next morning, we awoke bright and early in order to get to the Lone Pine Ranger Station in time for the 11 o’clock lottery.  As it turned out, there weren’t any suitable permits for us available at 11, only overnight permits beginning the following day.  So, we decided to pick up some gear (crampons and axes at Lone Pine Sporting Goods…not too expensive and they did the job) and took a trip up to Whitney Portal to set up our tent at the Whitney Portal before returning later in the afternoon, hoping that there would be some no-shows.  As luck would have it, there were and we became the proud owners of three day-use permits for the Whitney Zone on Sunday.

Chris points out sea-level

We had time to kill, though.  It occurred to me that we weren’t far from the lowest point in the contiguous US and that we would be hiking to the highest point the next day.  So, naturally, we took off for Death Canyon National Park (which happened to be free that weekend!) and visited Badwater Basin and played on some sand dunes.  We made it back to the Portal, cooked dinner and sorted our gear, ready for a 3am departure.

Sand dunes in Death Valley

We hit the trail at 3:30 (who ever actually leaves on time?).  The trailhead is at about 8000′ and on the main trail takes its time winding up interminable switchbacks.  After making the turn off the main trail without issue, we discovered that the Mountaineer’s Route was not quite the same and headed uphill.  About half an hour or 45 minutes in, we ran into a little bit of trouble.  After missing a creek crossing, we headed up some steep granite.  At that point, all of us wished that we had actually read a description of the route more carefully…oops.  We eventually made our way back to the right route, but only after losing about 30 minutes.  Mis-step number 2 came at the base of the ledges.  We were split on the right way to go, and ended up taking the variation to the south of the creek instead of going up.  As the day grew lighter, I spied the more traveled route on the other side of the canyon, so we dropped back across the stream and bushwhacked across.  Finally we were on the right track!  Soon after crossing over, we ran into a pair of climbers coming down from the East Buttress who had been forced to bivy because they couldn’t find the ledges.  I shook my head at the bad luck these guys were having, but at least we weren’t the only ones who didn’t find the ledges in the dark.  Little did I know that they looked in good shape compared to what our party would deal with.

Sunrise from Lower Boy Scout Lake

As dawn broke, we found ourselves at Lower Boy Scout Lake, with plenty of trail left to go.  For the most part, the route was clear and easy to follow with cairns every once in a while  It was also easy to avoid snow all the way up to Iceberg Lake (at 12,000′).  After we passed Upper Boy Scout Lake, and approached Iceberg Lake, we angled to the right and stayed high, scrambling up a short class 3 section near a frozen waterfall that was actually pretty slick (It was a good boulder problem, I thought, but my partners found it a little unnerving).  Had we gone low, we wouldn’t have had the same obstacle to climb, but it would’ve taken longer to slog through a big snowfield.  In any case, the scramble deposited us on the lake’s plateau, where we took some time to rest and try to eat.  It was at this point that each of us began feeling the altitude at least a little, with some headaches and food tasting like sawdust in our mouths.

The ribbon in the center is the gully we ascended (approx 35 degree snow)

From the lake up was still covered in snow (and we had to chip ice before collecting our water), so we strapped on crampons and headed up the steep gully.  Since we were a little late in the day, the snow slope was a little soft, making the going a bit difficult.  When we reached the notch, we were informed by a guided group that had just descended that the traditional route was very icy.  Since Ethan was feeling weak, and Chris was new to crampons, we decided to take the less strenuous, and more straightforward, traverse to gain the summit plateau.  Once on the plateau, we each started moving at our own pace, since the path was clear and the worst of the hiking was behind us.  In retrospect, I really should have known better and we shouldn’t have spread out at all.  I reached the summit at about 2:30.  It was a beautiful day, and despite having a small headache, I couldn’t stop marveling at the views (Iceberg lake below, Lone Pine and the Whites in the distance, and the Sierra stretching out behind)

About 10 minutes later, Chris joined me on the summit, but Ethan didn’t arrive at the top until just past 3:00.  When he did arrive, he wasn’t in great shape…exhausted, with a headache, and feeling cold.  After a couple very quick photos, I got Ethan inside the summit shelter to try and warm up.  It was here I learned that he was a bit underprepared, at least part of his headache came from the fact that he hadn’t been wearing sunglasses all day.  Also, he had no hat or heavy jacket so he thought he didn’t have a way to get warm.  Fortunately, I wasn’t going for light and fast that day and I bundled him up in most of my layers until he started to perk up a bit.  I wasn’t sure if he was suffering from hypothermia or from the altitude, since they conveniently have the same symptoms, so I figured we ought to descend as quickly as possible.  Given the condition of our crew, we all decided the Main Trail was our most prudent route (and that’s what we had listed on our trip plan).

Chillin' at the summit.

As we moved slowly towards Trail Crest, I became more and more worried that we would have to negotiate the icy switchbacks in the dark.  To make things worse, Ethan became increasingly listless, continued to be unable to eat anything without vomiting (though he did try a few of my Clif bars), and had run through his own 3 liters of water in addition to one of mine.  Every step of the way I was keeping up a running chatter, wishing I could send Ethan more energy and willing him to concentrate.

Night fell as we hit the 99 switchbacks, and keeping Ethan conscious between steps was becoming increasingly difficult.  My patience was being severely tested, since he was completely incapable of focusing, which in addition to annoying me a little bit, was also making me more worried.  Once again, I bundled Ethan up in all of my layers (despite his insistence that he was not cold), which seemed to help a lot confirming at least a little hypothermia.  Finally, we made it to Trail Camp (where one resident had been following our headlamps’ progress down the mountain, wondering if we needed help).  There, we finally got more water and managed to get Ethan and Chris to eat something, which perked them both up (Chris had a small headache and nausea).

Since the trail was still partially covered in snow, and I was unfamiliar with the route, route finding was quite difficult for a few sections.  I figured it out, though, and the only challenge for the rest of the return was keeping one exhausted Ethan awake enough to continue the hike down.  Finally, at 4:30 on Monday morning, 25 hours after departing, we stumbled back to the car and promptly fell asleep in the seats.  Needless to say, we arrived at work a bit late on Monday (read: we created our own three day weekend), but at least we all returned safely.

I would like to highlight that this trip could easily have gone very wrong, and nearly did.  Fortunately, as a group, we were prepared enough for the situation, but even experienced hikers (like Ethan, who has extensive winter hiking experience, too) can make mistakes that put themselves and their partners at risk (i.e. not enough layers) because they think nothing will go wrong.  It’s also easy for the stronger members of the party (i.e. me) to miss signs that indicate turning back would be prudent.  It would’ve cost me a summit, but it probably would have been best for Ethan to turn around after we had reached the summit plateau. It is always helpful to remember those lessons.

On that note…awesome trip, amazing views, and fun to have gone from the lowest low to the highest high in the lower 48 in less than 24 hours.  I don’t think I’ll ever do the Whitney Trail up, and am looking forward to trying the East Buttress or East Face someday!

I arrived at McCarren Airport in the late afternoon on 3/21 and met up with my friend, Brandon, who had arrived earlier in the day.  Fortunately, he was able to work out all the rental car details and had already visited the campsite and pitched our tent.  Unfortunately, we still needed to wait three hours for Ian and Adrienne to show up, who had been on a late flight to begin with which ended up being postponed even more.  Anyway, by about 12:30, we had all our bags and made our way to the campsite.

Day 1 - 3/22
We arrived on the evening that the Red Rock Rendevous was wrapping up, and the weather was less than stellar, so there was no climbing to be had on our first day.  Instead, we ran some errands (fuel and a guide book from Desert Rock Sports, grocery story) then headed over to the Rendevous to catch up with Jason Martin, AAI guide and good friend of my buddy Ian.  I had previously met Jason only very briefly, but got to talk to him a little more this time around.  He had taught Ian most of what he knows about climbing, and Ian had in turn started teaching me, so I guess that Jason is kind of my climbing grandfather, which I think is really awesome.  If you don’t know Jason, or all about him, check out the awesome AAI blog (http://alpineinstitute.blogspot.com/) or his personal web page (http://www.dramaticwriter.com/OutdoorAdventure09.html).  After lunch, we decided to head over to the first pullout and just hike around.  Despite the rain, and a touch of hail, we had a lot of fun, and were getting excited for some climbing in the better weather forecast for the following day.

Messing around at the first pulloff from the scenic loop.

Day 2 - 3/23
Time to hit the rocks!  We started out by getting ourselves warmed up with some intro sport climbing.  Our first stop was at  Panty Wall, where we started out with in two teams: the two comfortable leaders (Ian and Adrienne) split up with me and Brandon, respectively.  Adrienne and I ran up and down Silk Panties and The Last Panty, both 5.7, a few times.  Next, we moved onto the Black Corridor.  At that time, I had never led a climb before, but I was feeling decent and, as they say, there’s no time like the present.  I picked Bonair, a classic 5.9, located in the middle of the lefthand side of the lower canyon that looked like a lot of fun.  It was a little anticlimatic: everything went off without a hitch and I was lowering before I knew it :)  The walls were busy, so I was having as much fun watching as anything else.  Once Ian had led it, I had a go on NIghtmare on Crude Street (5.10d) falling once on the crux, but getting after I had felt the hold once was able to stick it.  I really, really liked the route, actually.  We decided to end the day in the sun, so we headed over to the Magic Bus.  Neon Sunset (5.8) was open, and well bolted, so I ran up that before we had to headed back to the car to get out in time.  I definitely like Bonair better than Neon Sunset, but still not a bad climb.  Overall, it was a good day to get back into outdoor climbing, and my first lead to boot.

Day 3 - 3/24
We had planned another day of single pitch sport and trad to get into shape before some multi-pitch routes later in the week.  We headed over to Moderate Mecca, which we figured wouldn’t be very crowded, and we were right.  I was feeling a little lazy (and it was pretty hot), so I ended up taking it pretty easy.  I followed Adrienne on The Route to Mecca (5.7), and cleaned her gear, which was fun but nothing special.  After a short lesson in placing cams and nuts, I grabbed the rack and headed up Sir Climbalot (5.7) for my first trad lead.  This definitely made me think a little bit more than my few sport leads, but still went off mostly without issue.  Afterwards, I led up The Route to Mecca again before we took off for a late-day visit to Atman (5.10a) which I was lucky enough to get a move or two up…my crack climbing still needs lots of work.  We headed back to the car, and to camp, as the sun set and the stars came out.

My climbing partner, a Chuckwalla lizard

Day 4 3/25
On Day 4, we split up the team…Ian and Adrienne took the rack for an attempt of Black Orpheus, while Brandon and I held on to a few draws and the rope for some more sport climbing.  We headed back to the sunny and friendly Panty Wall to begin our day.  The nice weather led to a slightly busy wall, but we weren’t in much of a rush.  We climbed Brief Encounter, Sacred Undergarment Squeeze Job and Boxer Rebellion (all really fun, sustained 5.8).  Brandon had never climbed outside before, so he was still getting the hang of things, which slowed us up a bunch (read: 30 minutes to lower after he climbed), but the day was nice and I wasn’t in a rush, so no big deal.

As things got busier, we decided to hit up the Black Corridor again where I re-climbed Bonair so that Brandon could top rope it, then Bon EZ (5.9+), which was good, but not quite as much fun as Bonair in my opinion.  Then we headed to the upper level to climb 757 2×4 (5.7) which Brandon wanted to take the sharp end for.  Despite trying to clip the rope in backwards a few times, he got the hang of things eventually and led without a problem. I followed, for a good finish to the day, because we had to go pick up Ian and Adrienne.

When we picked them up, we heard their unfortunate story.  First, they had some trouble finding the base of the climb thanks to some overgrown trails, then got stuck behind a super slow party.  The howling wind midway up the 4th pitch was enough to send them back down, which was totally the right move.

Brandon lowering from Boxer Rebellion (5.8)

Day 5 3/26
My last day had me excited.  I was going to take the rack and the sharp end and head up Cat in the Hat (5.6, II) with Brandon following.  I was super psyched for the super classic (probably the most popular climb in all of RR), mulit-pitch lead.  The day was beautiful, meaning the route was crowded, but not too crowded thanks to some pretty high winds.  As I crested the top of the 4th pitch, I moved a little bit out of the protection offered by an arete and got hammered with what I would guess were 35-40 mph winds.  Since we were worried about communicating around the arete in high winds, Brandon and I decided to call it a day and rap down (we weren’t alone in this decision, two other groups were headed the same way).  The adventure wasn’t over, though, since as soon as I tossed the rope behind me, the wind streamed it out sideways.  After traversing wayyyy to my left in order to loosen the rope from a particularly sticky horn, the descent continued mostly without issue.  I nearly missed the final set of bolted anchors since we had taken a slight variation on the way up, but managed to spot them in time.  Overall, tons of fun, highly recommended.

Second belay on Cat in the Hat (5.6, II)

That brought an end to my time at RR for the week, so I headed back to McCarren to hop on a plane bound for Maryland and a very rainy and muddy Ultimate tourney (we got called off after 2 games), but that’s another story enitrely.

Check out the galleries section for more pictures, or check out my flickr pages.

Today, Core77 highlighted a Businessweek article that commented on a rare talk that Jonathan Ive gave. The whole thing is pretty good, but one section really illuminated why he and Steve Jobs are on exactly the same wavelength.

Ive’s own commitment to the design process is precisely why, he said, if you don’t like Apple products, then you and he have a problem. Well, he didn’t put it exactly like that. In delicate Ive speak, this was, “We maybe would have a difference of opinion, but I can say it’s that way because that’s the way we wanted it to be. There’s not an excuse.”

Dear <subject>,

<Choose 1:

a - something obvious about the subject that personifies it in an attempt to (1) be cute (2) be insightful

b - passive aggressive note to the subject>

xoxo,

<tweeter>

My take:  It’s like the twitter version of the five paragraph essay: maybe a little overused and not necessarily original but highly effective.  I guess if I saw too many of them, I’d get annoyed, but for now I guess the habit isn’t necessarily good or bad, just is.

I feel like there’s been a lot of death recently.  I realize that’s awfully self-centered of me; I know that hundreds of thousands of people die every day.  It’s just that for one reason or another, the concept has penetrated my protected little world and thoughts, thanks to both high profile celebrity deaths and accidents in the outdoors.

Cases in point:

Three weeks ago, I night-hiked Half Dome (trip report forthcoming).  Earlier that evening, a woman slipped and fell while on the cables section (the very steep final section that features large steel cable hand-rails).  She was lucky, and was caught by the cables.  She suffered a relatively minor head injury and was helicoptered to safety.  I learned of this after descending from my hike.

Two weeks ago, a 40 year old software engineer and father of two slipped and fell 100 feet to his death (as other hikers looked on), on the same section of trail.

Three weeks to a month ago, three elite climbers died on Mount Edgar in southwestern China.  They were all in their early thirties.

Yesterday, John Bachar, a father and climbing legend, died in a free soloing accident in Bishop, CA.

It’s an almost inevitable thing.  If you mountaineer or climb for long enough, odds are you will die doing it (unless you have some other high risk hobbies).  They are sports filled with objective hazards, and every move is a calculated risk.  Risks can be mitigated by preparation, training and good judgement, but when you’re on a mountain or wall, risk cannot be eliminated.  I was reading about the coverage of the mountaineering deaths in China, when I came across a particularly interesting take by Will Gadd, who wrote:

For me I’m never going to use the word “tragedy” in reference to a climbing or mountain sports accident again. A tragedy is when a whole family gets killed by a drunk driver. A tragedy is when a little kid gets abused. A tragedy is when a 30-year old mother of two young kids gets cancer and dies. Dying while climbing, kayaking, paragliding, BASE jumping or any other form of outdoor recreation isn’t a fucking tragedy, it’s a clearly predictable result of doing the activity. If I or anyone goes out while doing our sports with a clear understanding of the game we’re playing then let’s have a drink, cheer for the life lived, and move on as best we can. I know it’s not that simple as death leaves huge craters in life, but I think that’s the only sane response I can give to the continued and voluntary mountain carnage I keep seeing year in and year out. To celebrate the rewards without clearly understanding the risks is not only bad math but blatant self-deception.

Mountaineering and other adventure sports are awfully narcissistic, so the term ‘tragedy’ just doesn’t ring true.  So, for my part, I think Will is dead on. Enough said.

And to my mother:  for now at least, I am going to keep climbing walls and mountains.  At the same time, though, I need to remember that I’m 22 and despite feeling like I can live forever, I won’t.

(The fact that I recognize this should, at least, make my mother feel marginally better.  Well, at least until I tell her about my latest epic.)

I think the Polar Clock is one of the more interesting, and clever, screensavers I’ve come across.  Each ring represents a different scale of time (seconds, minutes, hours, days of the week, day of the month, and month of the year), and the rings sweep around their circumference as time marches on.  Additionally, the rings are slowly, but constantly, shifting colors.

It’s available for both Mac and Windows, and also as a widget and iPhone app.  Find out more here.

Update: while gazing into space looking for inspiration at work, I noticed that the color of each arc is actually dependent upon its sweep, it’s not just a random transition of colors (for example, you’ll notice that as the second “hand” passes the minuted “hand” they’ll take on the same color.  the same happens as it passes each of the other “hands”).

I subscribe to Steep and Cheap’s (like a Woot! for outdoor gear) daily advertisement e-mail, The Daily Dose.  Alongside information about products on sale that day is a paragraph, a pretty much entirely random paragraph, but always entertaining.  Yesterday’s installment:

“I had mono for my first few months in college and didn’t find out until the virus had almost run its course. I was afraid that I was just really lazy. Finding out that my sloth was virus induced was nice. That one experience ruined me for life. Honestly, I keep waiting to find out that I’m at the end of some other mild disease that’s made me not stress out about not having a job or owning a car and house.”

I rarely, if ever, find out any useful product information, or buy anything because of the e-mails (I’ve got Growl notifications to take care of that), but they’re still funny.  So, I guess I’m recommending signing up for The Daily Dose, if you don’t mind one more e-mail in your inbox each day.

What can I say?  Life has been busy…the academic year has come to a close, and my summer employment is well underway.   Since last I wrote, Ive been able to get back into climbing (at PlanetGranite in Sunnyvale), the Ultimate team placed highly in Sectionals and did slightly better than seeded at Regionals, and I’m back at Apple, with the same group as last time around.  This year, once again, I’m working on more phone things, specifically…things that I am under contractual obligation to not talk about.  The hours are long but I’m having a great time since the problems are difficult and interesting.

I’m looking forward to a summer of busy weeks at work, and exciting adventures in the Sierra on the weekends, with maybe a trip to Seattle or LA sprinkled in.  I might even have time to keep the blog updated with trip reports (this weekend…Half Dome night hike) or at least fill in old galleries of trips, ultimate, and projects for my ‘portfolio.’

Last night Jack and I were doing what we do as often as possible: watching the Red Sox. This, somehow naturally, led us to wonder what exactly Trot Nixon’s facial hair would be called.  We still don’t know exactly what that would be, but did learn this interesting tidbit about facial hair:

That is taken directly from the Wikipedia page on goatees.  I’m glad I learned something interesting today.