The Mongolia Chronicles

As it ever was

Riders on the storm

into this world were thrown

Of Senators, Sailboats and Solace

Whirlwind as always. And although the St Regis Dana Point is not a bad place to stay for a few days, I prefer the quiet and solace of the woods, this time, accompanied by my nephew who is throwing down at altitude like it's his job. Very impressive. Bleeding on local soil: Priceless. Watching Quinn and Mason mix it up...well - enduring and very special. Kamp Kousin is a success,

High and not mighty

Eeked out some 4 hours from my decrepid, bloated and thrashed legs. Thanks to the C-Y for the banter and distraction on the climb, oh and for dropping me clean on the tech parts of the descent As it ever was. Amazing how long it takes to get the rhytym back into the legs. When in doubt, ride. So, I will be heading out again tonite for a chill ride to the Three Rangers overlook, where I believe I will drink - three rangers and coast home into a quiet weekend and the anticipation of the return of the family on Sunday.

Blogging with Chickens

Yes, we have re-entered the high country and I can feel my blood pressure dropping as I squat with chickens (yay the wireless works out here - stay tuned for the egg laying remote controlled web-cam) and re - integrate with the veins and arteries of mone that live not within me but on the surface of the planet, here in the Land of Ned.  Rode for a few hours today. Legs felt terrible as they always do after a week of running in sand, SUP boarding and surfing. Tomorrow - history tells me - they will feel great - where-upon - after moving approimately 4 tons of chipped wood I will nap, nourish and meet the C to the Y at the 'Bu for some Fuzzy Death Puppy action and a lovely evening ride until dark. New rule: Ride until dark 2 nites a week from now until the trails get shut down. Feel and immerse in the ebb of the light and the coming of the dark months and sleep and weight gain and music and reading and zzzzzzzzzzz. So great to be back on Colorado dirt. There ain't no place like home.

For Mason

Odd customs, these right-coasters. I recall much of the pomp and circumstance from my youth. Reminded by etchings in a bunk bed my nephew now occupies. The things we've handed down....comes to mind. There is always a grounding feeling, to watch Quinn ride his bike across the rickety bridge, or ask about the 'Hairy Hand' or things of the sort. I never feel time more acutely than when I observe myself, and my family in Point'O'Woods, some 48 years after my first trip across the bay to the small patch of sand. That acceleration of time, is slowed, only by the universal hoot of someone paddling into something, dropping into the Atlantic waters and riding current sand energy that helped shaped the island. That feels pretty universal. And pretty priceless. And pretty life - giving.

Guest Blogger: Mason K

Today I was in the water for 3 and 1/2 hours at least. I had caught at least a hundred waves today and lots with my uncle.(but none with my old man) We got slammed and we were pummeled by the "extreme" waves. I ended up cutting my foot with some shells early in the day and when I got back i was walking like a cowboy to the house because I had a rash on my thighs. But in-between those two things we got to listen to the wbjr.(Williams Jazz Band Reuinion) It was a great day with my uncle and I wish to have more when i visit him.

Curtain Call

The myth here - on the island - is that when my brother and I get here, the waves come up. Held true this year, again. We had some fun waves all day. Some solid slammers and some barrels and just all around salt water love. Nothing feels as good as being on the ocean for 5+ hours. Nothing makes it feel better than doing it with my nephew who is the super water polo playing stud and can outlast anyone in the waves. So cool to see.

How Lucky Are We

Spent the first 6 hours of the day dissecting our business with smart, engaged, creative people. Very lucky to have that. Spent the back with the S to the O way up high. Coming from sea level this woman does not balk at 10,600 foot high points, or deep European history. Our paths first crossed when she was on crutches. Her intellect beaming through, so obvious and so humble. I am SO stoked we have stayed in touch and got to SLAY THE FUZZY DEAD PUPPY tonite, together. Quality time up high to catch up and reflect and share and watch the light. Looked like we were doomed, but we climbed away in light drizzle, and then - there - holy - just like Jack Black had commanded it...the sky opened to blue and the wildflowers did sprout and the air did smell like high country Colorado - as - yes - we were there. How lucky are we, that one a regular old Tuesday nite, we got to share this experience. Thx for bringing the karma and energy and the You-ness of you - along. It's an honor.

And now...FOG!

Slow, and wet and tired. But, trails are trails and Monday mornings when you have a review scheduled....better to burn it off a little on the way in. My hands hurt from heaving logs. My back hurt from heaving logs. My psyche hurt from the fact that Rabbit can ride uphill on a singlespeed and basically talk the whole time while I am dying. A week + at the beach could not come at a better time. ONE MORE RIDE up high tomorrow, a few cold ones at The Shed, and we are outttttta here.

A River Runs Through It (all)

Whole lotta labor going on. The rain - came. It was huge. Last nite was biblical. One could have kayaked down the side of Z. The trails were blown to bits today - as was I. But when a (the) rabbit calls, one must respond. Even on a 1 geared bike, and even in the slow surface conditions following apocalyptical rains. Stacked and moved about 3.5 cords of wood in the last 36. Shoulders ache. Back kills. Hands are raw. All good. It's WET out, and that means less fire danger. Which is GOOD as we are going to THE BEACH for a week, or more. Family. Waves. Dad's Band playing in front of 1,000 of our best friends. It's all good - as they say here in the home state.