Endopolis

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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(From the Endopolis archive. Originally posted 10/08)

Dear anonymous surfer girl:

Sure was a nice afternoon in Capitola on Sunday, wasn’t it? The surf was up — some of those sets rolling through, breaking on the outside reef were solid head-high — and it was pretty good, even at high tide and with that breeze on it. There was a lot of water moving around — really the first real swell we’ve had this fall. I had some long rides and managed to get slapped around a little — it was the kind of day we live for, the kind of day the ocean lets you know you’re alive.

So I’m sure it looked pretty tempting from shore, but it was pretty dumb that your boyfriend (I assume that’s who he was) lead you straight out to the peak when you got in the water. I could tell you hadn’t surfed much before. You paddled pretty well but had a bit of a fearful look on your face, like you didn’t really want to be out there. Maybe it was a little too big for you. We’ve all been there before. I understand.

He was also kind of a loudmouth, but the waves were too good for me to really pay much attention. At least until that one set came through. I paddled over the first one, and got ready for the second. That wave, it was going to be my best of the day. I had eaten shit on the previous set, as a nice big one crashed on my back before I could get up — I was just a little too far inside. That was kind of embarrassing, but I shook it off and got ready for the next one. I was pretty determined.

So when it came, and I spun around to go for it, I saw the look of sheer panic in your eyes below me. You were quite a ways down — that wave was meaty. You were sitting right in the impact zone — right where I was aiming — and your boyfriend was right next to you, sitting there, yelling at you to “GO FOR IT!”  You froze as the wall built in front of you, with me on the peak. Neither of you moved, and I was forced to abort before I could get up to turn out of your way. I pushed my board off to the side and tried to jump the other way.

That wave was pretty powerful — it rolled me good and dragged me pretty far. And as I got sucked over the falls and went through the washing machine below, I was just thinking: Please god do not let my board smash this poor girl in the head. I was coming straight at you. I had no idea if I had killed you, but I was really afraid that you’d at least be missing some teeth, it’d be messy, and your boyfriend would want to kill me.

So when I came up and figuring out that everyone was okay, my concern turned to anger. Not because I missed the wave (there were plenty of others), but because your BF put you in that position and almost got you and me hurt pretty badly. I shouted, “What the fuck!?” And gave you and your BF the stink-eye as I climbed back onto my board. I think you started crying and hightailed it back to shore. I didn’t see him after that either.

As I collected myself and paddled back out, I had a chat with an older guy who was really surfing well. We agreed that Capitola is indeed a good spot to learn how to surf, but not on a sizable swell and not on the main peak or in traffic. One of the great things about that spot is it’s friendly to all-comers. Locals, valley weekend warriors like me, kids and the surf schoolers generally all have a lot of fun out there, and there’s always a good vibe in the water.

So, I’m sorry for shouting at you, and for nearly killing you with my 9-2. It wasn’t your fault. We’ve all gotten mowed by a wave before — it’s part of the experience. Even though that wave and I wrecked your day, I hope you don’t stop surfing and hope to see you in the water again. Just leave your boyfriend on the beach.

Mahalo.

Filed under: Archive, Life, Surfing by Steve Enders
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Long time no post. Life has been busy. Work has been busy. I’ve been injured. I tend to spend what little free time I have stretching and strengthening, and icing what has been a very bad back.

This all began back in March of 2009. I was working crazy hours at the startup and it was stressful, but I was generally in OK shape. One weekend we tried to demolish our backyard for a landscaping project and I think — I know — I overdid it with a sledgehammer. Ow.

A couple weeks later I was laying in an MRI machine, only to discover two herniated discs. I took 50% of my orthopedic doctor’s advice and began trying to loosen up and swimming regularly (the other half was physical therapy, which I deferred). The pool workouts were going great – I was swimming over a mile each time out. The back pain and sciatica never got better. I started seeing a locally well-respected chiropractor and therapeutic/sports masseur. Over time, the pain became tolerable with 2x daily exercise and stretching.

Flash forward to September 2010. New job, less overall stress, but more kids to hoist. I was in Oregon visiting family, and while venturing out with my sister we were rear-ended pretty badly in her car. She and her husband were taken to a hospital for observation, while I stayed behind and sorted out insurance and cops. I didn’t feel any immediate pain. A few days later, my shoulders and neck started tightening up. Over a week or so, the tension began moving down my back, and eventually locked in the same spot as my previous back injury. A couple days later, I was laid out on the floor, unable to move. My back muscles had tweaked so badly that I couldn’t straighten my torso. I was bent in a weird angle, and couldn’t get out of it. I could barely walk. My hips started to hurt because they were tweaked so badly, my left leg longer than the other. I spent some of that time on the floor sobbing. It’s a bizarre feeling for someone who’s always been active and relatively fit to be literally crippled. After a few days, even though you tell yourself it’s temporary, the pain and crookedness of your body starts to mess with your head.

Tried the chiropractor, tried stretching, ibuprofen, heat and ice. Nothing worked, and the pain worsened. So I loaded up on meds and went back to the doctor who said the accident probably re-injured the discs and that the muscle was doing its job to tense up and protect the area. The doc gave me a week’s supply of vicodin to “break the mental chain” between the pain and tension. Then and on her advice, I found a physical therapist.

So the loosening and strengthening continues, only this time it’s much more regimented. Strength workouts are focused on core, hips, and legs. The insane back tension that floored me is gone. Now we’re starting to think the discs are healed but that tension in my piriformis muscles are causing the general low back tension. We’ll spend the next few weeks working on that. I haven’t had any ibuprofen for about three weeks. Victory!?!? I won’t say that until I wake up without sciatica, or can sit in a chair longer than 30 minutes.

I’m starting to think about getting back in the pool for very light workouts. I’m focused on getting strong enough to surf a bit during our trip to Kauai in March. I can’t go snowboarding. Worse, for a few weeks I couldn’t pick up my kids. The family is sick of me being in pain and I’m sick of dealing with it. You’re probably sick of reading about it too, so we’ll leave it at that. Only stories of improvement from here on out.

Filed under: Family, Life by Steve Enders
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Yeah, I came back to Yahoo, and I’m proud of it. I’ve actually been meaning to write this post for a while but finally felt compelled to do so after seeing what’s going on in the company today, and reading some disparaging remarks about the company (again) in the blogosphere.

Here’s my story. It starts way back in 1998 so bear with me. I was a newspaper reporter struggling to make ends meet on an annual salary of less than $20,000. In the Bay Area it’s almost not doable. I eventually started covering some high tech stories in Silicon Valley and was exposed to a number of technologies and people doing interesting things. (This after attending Cal Poly and somehow missing the whole computer science thing.) Anyway, I somehow lucked into a part-time copywriting gig with Yahoo that paid more on the contract than I was paid in three months of work at the newspaper. It planted the seed, even though copywriting wasn’t really for me: There’s opportunity in web content.

A year later, I took a job as editor of a startup regional newspaper which turned into a magazine covering the dot com boom. It folded but not until we covered some cool stories and I, again, was exposed to some incredible people and companies. It was easy back then to see $$ in content. I will never forget going door to door in South Park, dropping off our magazines and seeing creative people doing cool stuff online. So, I taught myself HTML before the magazine folded.

By late 1999 I was working at TechTV, and was finally really doing web content as a reporter, editor and producer and making well over double my newspaper salary. I was stoked. It was a great place to work. But I was a south bay guy, and had always kept my sights on Yahoo. Why? It was the first company doing web content at scale, and doing it at scale in ways that nobody else was doing. I interviewed with Yahoo at one point around 2001 and barely lost out on the job to someone I’m still friends with today. (Yahoo is that kind of place.) I was bummed but it was fine – I figured I still needed to grow. Funny enough, I also interviewed at Google around that time, just as they were beginning to monetize search. I thought the place was weird. Not sure what that says about my judgment, but there you go. If it had been a good fit I might be retired by now. C’est la vie.

In 2004 TechTV was bought by Comcast, and I was given the option to move to LA to join the new G4TV network. I declined and took a severance. Prior to walking I helped lead a content deal with Yahoo, in which TechTV video was distributed out to Yahoo News for a new technology section they were building. Through my contacts at Y News I inquired about a job, and there happened to be one opening. I applied, and was lucky to nail it. That was in 2004.

I worked first as a producer and soon as a product manager for News until late 2008, starting out on the team when it was tiny and working through its massive growth, the media group’s move to Santa Monica, the push into original content, and the rise and fall of our CEO Terry Semel (and many other managers). I left the company at the peak of its uncertainty in Nov. ’08 for a good opportunity, to run the content operation at a startup. Ultimately, that didn’t work out for a number of reasons. It is what it is, and it was a great experience.

I interviewed at a handful of companies early this year. When I asked myself what I really was looking for, the following emerged: 1. I wanted to be working with really smart, great people, both on the engineering side and the content and product side. 2. I wanted to be involved in building web content experiences and products at a really big scale, 3. I wanted some job security and benefits (hey, it’s the economy, stupid) and 4. I really still liked Yahoo. I had been hearing good things about management and the changes that happened while I was gone from friends still at the company, so I figured it’d be worth another shot. In March, I was hired, and I’m now leading product management for a team that builds cool custom content and advertising experiences. Our group is responsible for delivering on a lot of revenue, and our sites serve millions of users. I’m lucky that I can check all the boxes that I wrote for myself during my job hunt. Hell, I’m lucky I got a job this year.

I’m not one of these I-bleed-purple Yahoo people. I’m cognizant of the fact they could lay me off tomorrow without cause. I don’t sell my soul to companies. In fact for a while I really didn’t think I’d end up working at Yahoo again. But as a Yahoo user since around 1995, I definitely have an affinity for the company and its products. With News, I worked with great people and learned more on the job than I ever had before. I wanted that again, so I found a great opportunity and went back.

The company has its faults and challenges and hasn’t always made the best decisions. Hindsight is 20/20. But the company isn’t dead. Far from it. I’m not sure why anyone implies it or ever writes Yahoo’s obituary. It’s got the talent, it’s a huge brand, has a gigantic user base and world-class advertisers. What is Yahoo? I see it as a media services company – we provide services and content, and we sell ads. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Every time I see a freakin’ Twitter fail whale, I’m reminded of one way Yahoo is amazing: our sites don’t go down. This is actually an internal mandate, and frankly is something that can add to the infamous bureaucracy we all read about. But, our sites don’t go down. There aren’t many web companies that can achieve this, especially given the traffic Yahoo sees. There are smart people at Yahoo who have figured out how to make this happen and are preparing for problems of bigger scale. This is just one example of things I’ve seen within the company that prove there are countless good, well-reasoned decisions that are made at Yahoo every day.

Here’s another. On Dec. 26, 2004 a huge earthquake hit Indonesia and the ensuing tsunami devastated the region. There were only a couple of us working during the holiday, and nobody knew the magnitude of the event until the next day. We went into scramble mode, and held an emergency version of the editorial meeting generally attended by editorial folks from across the company. With the holidays there was only a handful of people there. As we discussed our coverage options and pages we could launch, I looked to my left and realized that David Filo was sitting next to me offering ideas, the availability of engineering help and hardware support. The same thing happened after Hurricane Katrina. Yahoo mobilized, the founders got involved (I parked next to Filo yesterday – the guy still goes to work), we provided great coverage, Yahoo sourced millions of dollars in aid, and the company helped people on the ground in New Orleans. There are worse companies in the world…

So when was the last time you saw a 404 on a Yahoo web page? Google does search really well but does it have the best News, Sports, Finance and Entertainment websites online? I believe in the powerful combination of human editorial and great technology, and nobody has both like Yahoo. I’ve been involved in quite a bit of strategic planning recently and have been exposed to new leadership that continues to bring fresh ideas and good opportunities to the company. The future remains to be seen but it’s definitely bright, and I’m again stoked to be working at Yahoo.

Filed under: Life by Steve Enders
3 Comments » Tagged with: web content • work • yahoo media

I’m a big fan of Jon Krakauer, mostly because he is what I once aspired to be. I’d still like to be able to research and write the kinds of stories that he tells: complex, non-fiction and incredibly well reported/sourced narratives of adventurous people who are drawn to and ultimately affected by forces larger than themselves.

With each of his books, Krakauer has expanded his range and has gone from stories of wayward youth and outdoorsy tragedy (“Into the Wild,” “Into Thin Air”) to history and religion (“Under the Banner of Heaven”) and now, mainstream news and current events.

I just finally finished his latest book, “Where Men Win Glory: The Odyssey of Pat Tillman.” Tillman’s life and death was fairly well documented in his/my local San Jose Mercury News, so I felt like I knew the story. Local boy does well in football, makes it to the NFL, 9/11 compels him to join the Army (wha?), he dies tragically (turns out due to friendly fire), his service and death are exploited by a desperate military and Bush Administration, his family fights for the truth surrounding Pat’s death and exposes a cover-up that leads straight to the White House. And in the end, I felt terrible for the Tillman family and it simply confirmed that the war on terror was good for just about nothing other than to get Bush re-elected.

Turns out Pat Tillman’s story is much more complicated than any of that. I don’t think that this is Krakauer’s best book by any means (I say it’s a toss-up between “Wild” and “Banner”), but perhaps it’s because I was already familiar with the story. The first quarter of the book describes Tillman’s youth and relies a lot on tales by mother Mary Tillman via her book “Boots on the Ground by Dusk” (which I haven’t read). Throughout, Krakauer slowly begins to juxtapose worldwide historical terror events against Pat Tillman’s life, which of course culminate on 9/11 and during his rising NFL career with the Arizona Cardinals.

This is where the book gets really interesting, as Krakauer dives deep into Tillman’s comprehensive personal diaries and interviews with his then-girlfriend (his eventual wife) Marie and other friends to get inside the character I previously knew as just a high-strung and confused jock. Tillman was much more than that, and the middle of the book reveals some deep and also seemingly contradictory views on religion (Tillman was an atheist), life in the Army (mostly hated it), his penchant to explore and challenge conventional thought (he was a conversationalist and admired Chomsky), and his love for his family and wife (he was constantly torn to leave them for the Army). Tillman passes up lucrative NFL contracts and chances to escape boring, regimented military life simply because he’d given his word and commitment that he would do his three years in the Army, no matter how much he despised it. And he does it with his equally tough brother Kevin, with whom he shares an incredible bond, by his side the entire time.

Krakauer also details other similar and terrible friendly fire incidents in Iraq and Afghanistan, the manipulative faux “rescue” of Jessica Lynch (in which Tillman played a small role) and of course climaxes with vivid descriptions of the events surrounding Tillman’s death. The second half of the book is riveting.

Yet some of Krakauer’s best writing ever in any of his books comes at the very very end, in the final 10 pages or so where he probably very knowingly slips into a beautiful essay that examines why Tillman died. As a reader, I stopped in my tracks and had to back up and start the section over as it occurred to me where the author was going. Quoting a portion of it would be worthless, because as a whole it’s so eloquent — just to get to the end and this part alone makes reading this book more than worth it.

Read it for yourself, Pat Tillman’s family, and the country.

Filed under: Current Events, Media by Steve Enders
1 Comment » Tagged with: 9/11 • afghanistan • army rangers • friendly fire • jon krakauer • pat tillman