Endopolis

I spent five years of college in San Luis Obispo, most of which included surfing everywhere imaginable in SLO County. While my friends and I had plenty of great waves and sessions nearby, it’s also a fickle stretch of coastline that lent itself to many, many disappointing drives back and forth to the beach.

So we started to stretch out. Some days, with nothing better to do and knowing the waves were small or the wind wasn’t cooperating (which is often in SLO), we’d hop in a car with our boards and just drive. Sometimes we’d go all day, from Morro Bay to Santa Barbara. We found some pretty amazing and weird spots going up and down the coast. This was pre-Google Earth. We just had a AAA map in the glove box to show the way and plenty of free time.

My surfing roommates were from Southern California and my girlfriend was from Santa Barbara, so I started to spend more time exploring everything between Leo Carillo to the south and Gaviota to the north. I logged a lot of time on Hwy. 1 between Santa Barbara and SLO. It’s a gorgeous drive once the highway turns along the edge of the land, with numerous pullouts next to the railroad tracks that run alongside the road. Empty paths lead to the cliffs or down to the sand. There was hardly anybody around.

Flash forward 15 years. Me and my old friends get together every fall for an annual surf trip. We’re spread out now, so we pick a place to camp along the coast. We meet there, we drink a lot of beer, and we surf as much as possible. For a number of years, we camped at El Capitan State Park and got to know the nooks and crannies that lie within five miles of the park. We stumbled upon a beach called Tajuigas, which seems to be better known as a dive/snorkel spot. Sometimes, it turns out, the waves get good there and there’s nobody else in the water (except for when the photo in this post was taken, in 2003). Shhh!

It’s amazing that you can still find places like this in Southern California. That’s why when I found out about the Surfrider Foundation’s effort to create a documentary about the land battles happening on the Gaviota coast, I couldn’t help but chip in and help fund The Twenty. It’s named after the 20 miles of undeveloped coastline that exists there. It’s my first donation to a Kickstarter project. I’m no local of the place, but my son is starting to get interested in surfing, and me and my friends are still camping every year. It has given me so much. This open place needs to be protected so that we can continue to use it and explore its unspoiled beauty. There’s no place like it in Southern California, and perhaps the entire state.

Ironically, there has been active oil exploration going on there since the early 1920s, and the oil platforms loom large offshore. It’s not uncommon for little globs of tar – natural, or maybe not – to get stuck on your board, wetsuit and feet. It’s all a minor annoyance for a visitor, but a reminder that civilization is very much nearby and it is encroaching. It’s disturbing to think that the coast could be fully developed, to be turned into more resorts and golf courses, and to really let civilization have their way with the place. Let’s hope it stays as pure as possible.

Filed under: Current Events, Life, Surfing, Uncategorized by Steve Enders
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So, this happened at the Coupons.com Halloween party yesterday. It was my first event — I had been warned that the company goes big for the holiday. It didn’t disappoint, and neither did our PM team.

Filed under: Life by Steve Enders
No Comments » Tagged with: gangnam style • halloween • product management • star wars

Filed under: Media, Music by Steve Enders
No Comments » Tagged with: culture • dub • reggae • roots • streaming music

One of our team’s engineers is about to go on maternity leave, so I emailed some advice to her. It’s too important not to share with my vast audience. Plus, it’s been a while since I’ve updated this blog:

Hey <name redacted> – I’m working at home today because my washing machine broke again last night. So here’s some advice that you won’t get anywhere else.

Buy one of these, or something like it:

http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3502301

Use it. Because you’ll need to wash lots of baby stuff, including baby socks. Baby socks, it turns out, are tiny and get sucked into the pumps of washing machines.
I’ve spent about $300 now on various fixes over the past two years – each time has been due to their damned little socks getting stuck. The one the guy pulled out today is a 3-12mo. sock, meaning it’s been in the bowels of my washing machine, unnoticed, for over a year.

Anyway, enjoy the ride. It’s little stupid stuff like this that drives parents insane. The kids are easy.*

- Steve

*They are not easy.

Filed under: Family, Life by Steve Enders
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It’s been nearly a month since me and Scott were standing on top of Mt. Whitney, the tallest peak in the continental United States. It was satisfying on so many levels. My two (only two!) blisters are finally nearly healed. That one mushed toenail never fell off. My back didn’t go out on me. I trained and trained for this and we made it to 14,505 feet without any problems, but that’s not to say the three-day trip wasn’t an adventure or a walk in the park.

The first day was spent driving up Hwy 120 to Yosemite and Tioga Pass where we lucked into (maybe) the last cabin available at the Tioga Pass Resort, which sits around 10,000 feet. We didn’t have a reservation anywhere and were hopeful to stay somewhere above 9,000 feet so we could begin to acclimate. After failing to get a tent cabin at Tuolomne Meadows in Yosemite, we just hoped to camp somewhere in the area or, best case, get a room at the resort. We did, thankfully, and took a quick 2 mile hike up to an old silver mining ghost town called Bennettville near some pristine and otherwise remote lakes, set against a magnificent backdrop of snow-covered peaks.

That night was crucial to the trip’s success, I think, as that afternoon I started to develop a dull headache and eventually had a really crappy night’s sleep (maybe due to the amazing berry crumble and ice cream at the resort restaurant?). Both are symptoms of altitude sickness – something I was hoping to avoid, for obvious reasons. It never got any worse than tossing and turning that night so I ignored it, popped some Advil, and we set out for Lone Pine after a quick shower and good breakfast that morning.

Earlier in the year, Scott had applied for and secured a permit for one day on the mountain inside the Whitney Zone (map – PDF), thus giving us a day to make the summit. But we were hopeful that the recent bad weather might scare some other permit holders away and give us a shot at a second day’s permit. So after a four hour drive on Hwy 395 we checked into the Eastern Sierra Interagency Visitor Center prior to 11am and got into the daily lottery. Scott drew a nasty 17 out of the hat (out of about 20), but the ranger said most existing permit holders would get the extra permits they wanted. Lucky enough, we did, and we were stoked to set off for the trailhead after a quick sandwich stop at Subway, and to grab some last-minute food rations at the local grocery store. We were planning to travel as light as possible, not taking a stove or utensils so we planned to load up our single bear canister with trail mix, fig newtons, crackers, peanut butter, energy bars and goo, electrolytes, and the like.

Some old school Metallica got us up the road to the Whitney Portal, where we scored a great parking spot and spent an hour getting ready, stripping our gear down and packing only the essentials. We weighed in at the trail scales – Scott was the man at 40 lbs. (thanks to the bear canister) and I was packing 35. So at about 1pm we set out from approx. 8,600 feet. About four hours and over 3,000 feet later, up countless granite steps and switchbacks, we made it to trail camp well above the timberline, at about 12,000 feet.

It’s funny that people complain about the notorious 97 + switchbacks, which lead from trail camp to the John Muir Trail at the trail crest, or the stretch that runs along the ridgeline leading up to the summit. Sure, these switchbacks are a bitch. But the whole 11 miles from the portal are nothing but switchbacks. The trail is incredibly well kept, especially considering all the nasty weather this year and flash floods two weeks earlier. But the trail is short and steep, and goes back-and-forth practically the entire way up to the crest. I didn’t realize how brutal this was until we were on the way down, however. More on that in a sec.

The switchbacks were all free of snow, but it was cold that night/morning at trail camp with temps dropping into the low 30s. Some ice remained in the shady spots on the trail but nothing treacherous. We packed only essentials for the summit that day, filled up and UV cured 8 liters of water between the two of us, and at 6:30am started going up and up and up. Despite the grueling switchbacks and continuous steps (they are indeed tough as you push up over 13,000 feet), it was exciting to ascend up the sheer face of the mountain, gorgeous views in all directions, water flowing over portions of the trail from the snowmelt, and gigantic peaks ahead. We could catch glimpses of the summit, which seemed to get further away the closer we got to it.

This was especially true as we cleared trail crest, where we began to meet some interesting folks who had spent a month or so on the Muir trail. Whitney serves as the final landmark on the Muir trail so you get some scruffy characters who’ve been in the wilderness for weeks. They’re amped to be there and finishing their journeys, and meeting these happy folks gave me a boost to finish the climb. I was now feeling like we were getting close, but still had a long way to go, plus another final ascent to get there. It just. Seemed. So. Far. Away. Feeling good, we trudged on.

The trail along the ridgeline behind these great granite spires gets hairy in some spots, with crumbled chunks of rock obviously just peeling away from the cliffs above, from the spires that seem to be as tall as the summit itself. I had heard a couple of distant rock falls during the previous restless night spent in the tent. There’s nothing but granite rubble everywhere up there – the mountain must be constantly in motion. Along the ridge, with impossible views to the west and east, you start to wonder how amazing it’d be to climb up the rocky spikes above, while thinking about how shitty it’d be to slip off the left edge and go careening down to the west, a virtual stone abyss off the ledge. The so-called “windows” between the spires offer some incredible views to the east and other incredible vertical drops. As we passed, I wondered if anyone had ever BASE jumped from these spots. You think it’d be fun to descend by parachute, if not for the thrill but also because then you wouldn’t have to walk all the way back down those countless steps and goddamned switchbacks.

We trudged on to the summit, over a somewhat sketchy snowfield which was cut at about a 45 degree angle into the edge of the mountain. The summit lay just ahead, up and to the right, but about another 500 vertical feet and a long half mile away. Stopping every 50 feet or so for a breath and a sip of water, we eventually made it to the top to the rock cabin (an old Smithsonian research station) and the granite slabs that somehow stay put, dangling over the top. It took about 4 hours from trail camp – we stood on the summit at about 10:40am. We caught a guitar show from a guy who called himself The Boot-Stompin’ Dave Thompson, met some other hikers including a rude know-it-all and the crazies who had done the whole hike in a day. One woman, an avid trail runner, bolted down and ran the whole way down.

That could have been us doing the day hike with our single-day permit, but I’m really glad it wasn’t. It was hard enough to do as an overnighter. Starting the trail at 3am and doing all 22 miles in a day would have just been brutal. I’d like to think from a fitness standpoint we could have done it, but on the way down… down… down the steps and switchbacks I was thankful that we spent the night on the mountain. As you’re going down, the steps aren’t just nice stair steps. They’re steps down big and small rocks, onto sometimes jagged, triangular pieces of granite that serve as the best footing possible. You’re trying to move quickly so as just to get down. And it takes an incredible amount of concentration, which gets tiring. There wasn’t much conversation on the lower half of the trail. Twisting an ankle or knee would be all too easy. So you’re careful with each quick step because at 20 miles you just want to finish. Plus, it’s just jarring, especially carrying 30 lbs. or so down, each step starts to feel crushing after just a few miles of descent.

Anyway, we made it back to the car at about 5pm, exhausted but happy we had made the trek. Next stop, our motel room in Lone Pine for a much-needed shower. We later wolfed down a pizza and Sierra Nevadas at a local joint. Slept like a baby that night, and drove the whole way home the next day.

Whitney? Check. Three days, 22 miles, and about 6,000 vertical feet up (and another 6,000 down).

People ask now: Does it feel like something’s missing since you’ve done it? Yeah, it does. After months of training and prepping and planning and thinking about it, to have it finished leaves you feeling a little empty. I’m not clamoring to go climb Everest, but I hope to stay active. I’ve been eating and drinking more, and exercising generally less, but still feel in OK shape. Though, that emptiness doesn’t compare with the feeling of having checked Whitney off the list. This trip was 15 years in the making since my first failed attempt, so it was all worth it.

I’m also lucky to have an understanding wife and kids who allowed me the chance to do it. I couldn’t have without their support (or tolerance!). My son appreciated the gift I brought back for him. He asked me if I’ll do it again someday. I told him: Only if you go with me.

Photos on flickr.

Random factoids:

• Months training: 9+ (including PT for the back)
• Miles hiked on Whitney: 22
• Months of serious training hikes: 4
• Miles hiked on Mt. Diablo: ~24
• Miles hiked on other Bay Area trails: 35+
• Miles swam as part of rehab & training: too many
• Hours spent stretching during rehab/training: 1 hour/day x 6 days/week x 9 months. Do the math.
• Clif Bars consumed on Whitney: 4
• Liters of water consumed on the trek: 12+

Critical gear:

• REI Flash 50L pack
• Solomon Quest 4D GTX boots (but a little disappointed my feet were so mashed at the end)
• REI Traverse trekking poles
• Patagonia bucket hat
• Patagonia micro puff jacket
• REI silk sock liners and Bridgewool lightweight hiking socks
• 2L Camelbak reservoir
• 2×1 liter Nalgene bottles
• Nuun flavored electrolyte water tablets
• Jelly Belly Sport Beans (they’re awesome!)

Filed under: Uncategorized by Steve Enders
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I surfed my go-to spot last Sunday in Capitola knowing there was a nice incoming SW swell on tap. It was the average Sunday morning crowd but not too busy, and the waves were waist to chest high with some head high sets pouring through. The bigger ones were breaking way outside on the reef, even during the high tide at 8:30am. There were some long lulls but the good rides were connecting all the way through to the inside, no problem. I had gone over with my neighbor for the second time — after talking about surfing together, we’re finally starting to do it, and we’ve had two fun sessions together. There were other familiar faces in the water and everyone was having a good morning, getting lots of waves.

Midway through the session, a set came through and I caught a wave from the outside peak and rode it all the way in. The inside section can be pretty fun — the outside breaks bigger but is crumbly, and then it backs off in a deep spot, but then gets steep and faster as the wave breaks over an increasingly shallow, rocky bottom. All told it’s probably a 100-yard ride and, typical to the eastside, a really a nice right handed pointbreak. The two points on the Google image here show the takeoff spot and the inside section.

As I was paddling back out me and a couple of other guys saw a longboarder riding along on a similarly nice wave, with style. All of a sudden this big heavy guy pops up behind him in the whitewash, speeds toward him and literally pushes the longboarder off his board on the inside section, and keeps going. This is way out of line. First of all the big guy had no right to the wave. A clear violation of the first rule of surf etiquette. Secondly, he flat-out pushed the guy off his board. We all kind of looked at each other: what the hell was that? Did he just really do that? I’ve been surfing the area for about 10 years and I’ve never seen such a thing.

According to the Surfing Handbook (not to mention common sense):

“If someone is up riding a wave, don’t attempt a late takeoff between the curl/whitewater and the surfer. If the surfer who’s riding the wave wants to make a cutback she’ll run right into you.”

I talked to the surfer that got pushed a little later when we were sitting on the outside waiting for a set, and he couldn’t believe what had happened. He wondered: Did I do something? Was it my fault? I’m pretty sure I didn’t burn him, right? I told him: No way, the wave was yours and the big guy had no right to do what he did.

Over the next hour, I got a couple more rides and was ready to head in when another big set came — just what I wanted to finish the day, a nice sized wave and something to take me all the way home. Me and my neighbor were all alone on the outside peak, set up perfectly. He gets the first one and rides it all the way to the beach. I nabbed the second one, navigated the crowd and was just getting some speed on the inside when I see the big dude get up on the wave behind me, again taking off in the whitewash (I had been riding it for 50 yards already). I’m thinking: Oh great, here we go. I looked back at him and started chuckling as he was doing his best to pass me.

Just like what happened to the other guy, the big man is pumping his hybrid to catch me (I was out ahead on the open face), and I’m thinking: no way am I backing off for this bastard. A million thoughts are running through my head and I’m thinking about the ensuing confrontation which will probably end in a fight. Should I jump on his back? Should I kick out and hit him in the teeth with the nose of my 9-2? Should I deliberately wipe out in front of him? Should I just let it go and call it a day?

Before I could decide, he grabs my leash and shouts: “Watch out!” and he yanks me backwards off my board! I did my best to launch my board out forward at him, hoping I’d take him out, but it caught me by surprise and I couldn’t make it happen. The wave had been walling up in front of me so my ride was done anyway, and I knew I was done for the day, but still. I’ve been stand-up surfing for over 15 years and I’ve never had such a thing happen to me, especially in Capitola which is usually one of the most mellow spots possible. Hell, there were grandparents surfing out there that day, like they do every day.

So I go under and he rides on. As I came up, he was already paddling back out, about 25 yards away and around the smaller jetty inside. He had earplugs but I shouted at him, “Thanks, dick!” He didn’t hear me or care. Didn’t even look back. He soon began paddling in but kind of delayed as he had to have seen me getting out of the water and walking back toward the breakwall. I wasn’t about to chase him and get in a fight, but just stood on the beach in amazement.

Not only did he violate the first rule of surf etiquette, he took me off my board. Goes without saying — not cool.

In the end, I let it go. The big dude paddled in after me with his son (!!) who was about 10 or so. I had seen the kid in the water earlier and he clearly didn’t want to be out there or be near his dad. It’s no wonder. Father of the year.

Funny enough, this wasn’t the only incident of the day. I got snaked earlier by a short boarder on the inside, who instead dropped in on me and tried to pull an air as the wave closed out. He fell, which was actually kind of dangerous had his board hit me. He went in right away and I never saw him again.

The only thing I can think of that would remotely justify all this bad behavior is resentment over a longboarder riding a wave from peak to beach. It’s a long ride. But it’s also traditionally a longboarder’s spot. Logs and old guys have always dominated the place. Capitola is not Trestles. There are plenty of other waves to surf nearby if launching slob grabs is your thing. Also, I think I caught five or six waves all session — it’s not like I was ruling the place. I’m too out of shape to nab every wave that comes my way — other guys were out doing that. Besides, I’ve been the hog before and now, older and wiser, know that sucks nearly as bad as being dropped in on or pushed off a board by some dickhead.

After I got changed I desperately wanted to go talk to the guy, who I saw getting into his truck. But I figured I’d just get in a fight (and probably lose) on a busy beach by a guy who was twice my size. I haven’t fought anyone since I was 12. But I envisioned myself calmly approaching and reasoning with him, letting him know that he was not operating within standard operating procedures, that I was dismayed and disappointed by what he had done, that he’s setting a poor example for his son by surfing the way he does, etc etc etc. Then I’d shake his hand and tell him to have a nice day. Maybe I’d buy him a cup of coffee. Maybe he just needed a hug.

See you next time, big guy. Hope you have a better day. If not, then apologies in advance if my board accidentally hits you in the teeth.

Filed under: Life, Surfing by Steve Enders
No Comments » Tagged with: leash pull • right of way • snaked • surfing etiquette • surfing rules

Team Whitney (me and Scott) had been talking for some time about meeting for a couple of lengthy training hikes this summer. He lives in the Sierra foothills so Mt. Diablo seemed like a great midway point for us, not to mention a sufficient training hike for the real deal in August.

We had no idea. The date we picked (weeks ago), July 3, would turn out to be one of the hottest days of the summer so far, with temps forecasted to push 100 in the valleys around Diablo. The forecasters were right. It was hotter than hades.

We did one of the Mt. Diablo Interpretive Association’s “ten demanding hikes,” the loop of Mt. Olympia via Middle Trail. Scott had a good topo map of the mountain, so we made some impromptu diversions and a trek instead to the mountain’s main summit at 3,849 feet. The loop turned out to be longer than we thought — roughly 12 miles and 1,000 feet higher than we were planning, climbing roughly 3,500 vertical feet. We started the hike at 7:30 am and finished at about 2:30 pm.

The hike began at the Regency Dr. gate in the town of Clayton, and the route up started pleasantly. It was mostly covered in shade as the sun rose over the mountain’s southeastern ridges and we did combinations of fire trail and singletrack over some sections with increasingly expansive views of the Bay Area’s eastern valleys. The shade was very helpful, as the climbs were getting steep and we could tell the temperature was rising quickly. We were already sweating buckets after the first mile or two.

After some fun traverses and scrambles through a couple of poison oak-filled creek beds (which cooled us off further thanks to the still-flowing water) we started making the real climb at about the halfway point of the mountain. Then it was up, up, up to the summit which seemed to get further away the closer we got. The last mile up the exposed southwestern face was hot, filled with are-we-there-yets, and dreams of well earned after-hike hefeweizen.

We had some snacks at the top and took in the hazy, summer smog views. I failed to refill my 2L hydration pack at the summit water faucet, which would later prove to be a huge mistake. I didn’t know I was near empty. Plus I had another 1.5L Nalgene bottle full, so figured that was plenty to make it down. Boy was I wrong.

As the sun came up exposing the whole mountain to the now-hot sun, the trek down became a death march. Our quads and knees were burning like the sun, and we had to take some long pauses just to catch our breath. I carried about 20 lbs. in my pack, and the weight was starting to affect me. I hiked this for the first time ever with trekking poles, and while I found them generally kind of annoying to hang onto, they certainly were helpful on the descent both as a leg-saver and stabilizer on the steep sections with loose trail gravel.

The final 1.5 miles was a lesser decline on blazing hot exposed fire trail. I could have used a fire truck to hose me off as I sipped the last drops of what was then hot water from my Nalgene. We were happy to make it back to the gate and the car, and then to the nearest Jamba Juice in Concord. It took me the next day to fully recover, and realize what we had done. We thought we had done a 10 mile loop but Scott checked the topo map and sent the results, which grew more satisfying as my legs became less sore.

Overall definitely a great training hike that we should do again – this is the kind of stress (at altitude) we’ll see on Whitney.

More photos on Flickr.

Filed under: Life, Uncategorized by Steve Enders
1 Comment » Tagged with: hiking • mt. diablo • mt. whitney

Mt. Whitney training update: We’re doing a 10-mile + hike this weekend on Mt. Diablo. Amazingly, I’ve never been there before, but it should be a decent test. Looking forward to a warm day and hopefully a bit of time at “Rock City” doing some bouldering. Should be fun.

Finally, Scott dug up and sent what few photos we took from the first Mt. Whitney trip, shot prior to the widespread adoption of digital cameras. I’m looking forward to taking my tiny Canon on the upcoming trip, and taking a lot of pics.

Scott (L) and me (R), circa 1996 - afternoon arrival at High Camp on Mt. Whitney. Shortly after this was taken we retreated to our tiny tent to ride out an insane thunderstorm.

Good morning Mt. Whitney! (That's me in the foreground.) Clear skies but too much snow for us to make it to the summit.

Descending. :-(

Filed under: Life, Uncategorized by Steve Enders
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I’ve been trying to set big goals since blowing out my back twice in the past two years. PT and rehab have been good, and I’ve returned to doing many of the things I like to do. Surf? Check. Swim? Check. Stairmaster? Check. Hike? Check.

So when my friend Scott suggested we try and tackle Mt. Whitney again this year, I thought: (Holy crap, no!) Why not? Two months from today, I hope to be enjoying the view from the summit. There’s a lot to do before we get there, though.

Scott got our permit sorted out, which is for a single day in the so-called Whitney Zone. This means we have a day to do the bulk of the hike, up roughly 5,000 vertical feet. This, I’ve discovered, is what’s now commonly known in hiking circles as an “extreme day hike.” And it sounds a bit insane to think that I, a sea-level dweller, can bag a nearly 15,000 foot peak in a day.

We’ve agreed to wing it a bit on the trip. We may try to do a short hike and overnighter if possible on Tioga Pass. We’ll throw all our gear in the car so we’re ready for a longer hike/overnighter on Whitney if we can luck into an extra day’s permit when we arrive. Then we can acclimate a little better and hopefully have a better chance for the summit. If not, we’ll go anyway and see how far we can get in a day or before we start puking or the legs give out. If we have to do the extreme version, we’ll get up well before the crack of dawn and we’ll benefit from headlamps and late daylight on the way down.

Today we also have the internet at our disposal, and access to discussion boards about current trail status (how much snow is on the face/switchbacks?) and an advance on the weather. We’ll know what we’re getting ourselves into before we go.

Flash back to 1996, the first time I tried Whitney. Me and Scott did the trek up to Trail Camp (~12k feet), and hunkered down just in time before getting slammed by a wild thunder and hail storm. We couldn’t summit the next morning due to snow on the switchbacks. I also recall being sore as hell that morning. So the prospect of doing the entire hike in a day is indeed a big goal. I don’t recall any altitude issues that trip, but we didn’t go higher, either. I was in pretty good shape. And I was 21. But we’ve vowed to return and try again, so this is it.

When PT for my back ended about a month ago, I started training in earnest with regular trips to the gym, the pool, biking, and more recently up local trails. This weekend I did two hikes up the 7.2 mile (roundtrip) PG&E Trail at Rancho San Antonio County Park, which after the second trek on Father’s Day kicked my ass pretty good. It’s one of the tougher trails in the area — a calf-burner on the way up and a thigh/knee-killer on the way down. I’m trying to push myself without over-doing it, so as not to F-up my back again. In addition to getting in shape, the hikes are proving to be a good gear test as well.

My primary gear, so far – all recently purchased:

• REI Venturi 30L pack
• 2 liter Camelbak water reservoir
• Salomon Quest 4D GTX boots
• REI Traverse Shocklight trekking poles

Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

• I’m beating myself up right now but am generally fit. I’m not too concerned about fitness overall if I can keep up my current workouts.
• I’ll be glad to do some 10 mile hikes this summer. We have our first scheduled on Mt. Diablo in early July.
• I’m happy to be breaking in my boots early. My feet are torn up. Heel blisters, toes are smashed, ankles are a bit cut up.
• I hiked with my 30L pack weighted on Friday. Every hike now will include a pack with some weight. Just having the straps on you while going uphill and sweating up a storm takes some getting used to.
• My 2 liter water reservoir may not be enough and I may upgrade to a 3L. Then again, not sure I want the extra water weight/space taken in my pack.
• I’m loving the REI backpack – it’s a great size, and not too heavy even if loaded. It has great airflow through the back and harness. However it won’t be big enough if we get an extra night on the mountain.
• I don’t want to hike in with my ratty old North Face pack. It’s like hauling a potato sack on your back compared to the new REI pack. My how materials have evolved in the last 15 years.
• I need a blister kit and am considering sock liners, on the recommendation of another friend.
• I need to get to the gym.
• I should probably start running a bit.
• I need to hike more.

Two months left. Getting there is going to be a tough but fun climb.

Filed under: Life by Steve Enders
No Comments » Tagged with: backpacking • extreme hikes • fitness • hiking • mt. whitney • physical therapy

We’re just back from a week on the north shore of Kauai. It was a good trip. It was a bad trip. It was a trip! Here’s the roundup.

Hit: Successful travel with three kids, two of whom were lap babies on the plane!
Miss: Both flights during nap time (there was no napping) and we were, in fact, “that” hell family on the plane that everyone wanted to throw off. Sorry, folks.

Hit: My parents were there too, as was my sister and her family (my nephews). Still, some quality time was had! Babysitting was had!
Miss: Not enough time to really hang out what with naps, early bedtimes, dinners, etc.

Hit: First time surfing since November due to my ongoing back injury. My hours of PT paid off, and I was grateful to get some fun knee-high waves in warm water on a rental longboard in Hanalei Bay.
Miss: The weather generally wasn’t great, the surf was blown or small, and the swell filled in on the day we had to leave, natch.

Hit: Easy snorkeling off the reef at Tunnels beach.
Miss: As the reef dropped off to deep sand bottom, the constant tug reminding me that about 100 yards away was the spot where Bethany Hamilton lost her arm to a huge tiger shark.

Hit: Queen’s Bath was near our place, and it was fun to hike to and swim in.
Miss: That’s the only hike we took during the week.

Hit: N’s first shave ice!
Miss: They ought to put warning labels on those sugary suckers, for parents.

Hit: I’m tan!
Miss: Should be tanner, but that weather… those naps…

Hit: Ample time on the beach. We spent just about every morning on the sand, somewhere.
Miss: Not enough time to do much else. Kauai is the place you just want to explore – not easy with 19-month-olds napping every day after lunch.

Hit: Air-temperature, non-chlorinated pool in the condo complex.
Miss: Air-temperature pools can be chilly!

Hit: Date night for sunset cocktails at the St. Regis hotel bar, which overlooks gorgeous Hanalei Bay…
Miss: It looms over the bay’s main pointbreak/reef, which was small and glassy during the sunset we watched. Plus I’m too out of shape to paddle that far anyway. It was kind of hard to look at.
Hit #2: Amazing sunset for an otherwise cloudy day.
Miss #2: Damn, the service is slow.

Hit: About a week and a half off from work!
Miss: Vacation came unexpectedly in the middle of the launch of a crash project to ship the Royal Wedding site on Yahoo. Our team rocks – they pulled it off perfectly without me.

Hit: Celebrated Dad’s birthday at the Hanalei Dolphin restaurant and had amazing sushi.
Miss: Think I was able to sit for 20 minutes with the kids then had to bail on the table to run around outside and make sure nobody fell in the river.

Hit: Feeling that blast of warm, humid, Hawaiian air as the plane doors open in LIH, and feeling glad you wore shorts on the flight.
Miss: Landing at SFO… to horrible news of the Japan quake, and arriving at home news of the tsunami.

Filed under: Family, Life, Surfing by Steve Enders
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