Section925 Podcast Episode 80 - Discussing "San Francisco 2.0"
/First time guest Vicky Woodworth joins Connor to discuss HBO's new documentary "San Francisco 2.0"
Section925 Small Batch Series Podcast - Violence in Chicago
/In this episode of the Section925 Small Batch Series, Connor visits with Brandon Barfield on the South Side of Chicago. An 18-year-old senior in high school, Barfield discusses some of the urgent challenges facing one of America's greatest cities. Born and raised in the Chicago, Barfield gives his perspective on Spike Lee's new movie, the gun violence epidemic, and the recurring theme of brutal police incidents around the nation.
"Building Bikes in Hunters Point" - The 2015 Dirtbag Challenge
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Words by Jordan Latham \\ Photos by The Dirtbag Challenge
“Dirtbag is about doing things your own way – without anyone’s approval, without anyone’s permission. Build the bike you want, live the life you choose. If we can do it, so can you.”
San Francisco has recently become increasingly polished. The influx of high-income young professionals has effected the farthest corners of the city. Fortunately, if there is one area you could call a hold out, it would be Hunters Point. Make a left off of 3rd street, head straight down towards the water and you you’ll find a dead end full of warehouse spaces serving as host to The Dirtbag Challenge. Refreshing proof the city of San Francisco is not quite yet all Pilates and decaf soy macchiatos. There is still an underbelly. There is still some edge.
Founded by motorcycle enthusiasts tired of the expensive flashy "Orange County chopper" competitions, the Dirtbag Challenge is unlike any other motorcycle building competition nation wide.
The duration is only one month, and though consistently in the fall, the start date is different every year. Once announced on Facebook (or “Facefuck” as their website calls it) the participants have four weeks to build a custom motorcycle with the budget of only 1,000 bucks. It must ride for the duration of a 100 mile loop. Not an easy task, but seeing as the competition has consistently had about 30 entry's every year for the past 13 years, it is certainly doable.
At 9am exactly one month after the challenge is posted, the machines arrive outside the founders warehouse to head out the Pacific Coast Highway. The rules are basic: stay together, be very attentive of bikes around you (remember they are liable to fail before the duration of the ride) and...NO Harleys. Because of the high budget, anyone can be a biker with 20,000 dollars and a Harley Davidson leather culture. Harleys are out. The spirit of The Dirtbag is represented by the wild creative minds of real people who are real enthusiasts. And the imagination applied to the process is truly impressive. People produce crazy looking 3-wheelers, rat bikes, sidecars and all sorts of chopper style creations. Not all the bikes last for the whole 100 miles, and there's no truck following with mechanics to assist. Sometimes parts come loose, sometimes motors give out. Make damn sure though, every rider wants to get to that after party.
Back at Hunter’s Point, starting around 2pm when the riders roll back in, there will be bands, there will be beers, and the freaks will be out to admire the mechanical artistry and take in the show. On average 4 or 5 punk rock bands are booked to grace the makeshift stage and play through the unreasonably huge speakers. If you hoped to hear yourself think, you're SOL.
When the bikes come in, the party begins, starting with burn outs. The smoke is so rubbery you can taste it, and the sound will replay a continuous rattling and roaring in your head for hours after it's over. Chunks of stripped off tire fly through the air, people cheer loudly, appreciating the genuine passion in the moment, raw bad ass experience of some 17 burnouts going on simultaneously, just feet from each other in a relatively small space.
Tail pipes are red hot and swinging all over the place. People dart in for photos, and try to dodge spinning metal radiating heat and black plumes, those photos better be good! Suffice to say, it isn't for the faint of heart.
With a 5 dollar donation you receive a red solo cup for whatever beer they're serving. You will drink it and you will like it, because regardless of what kind it is, the flavor will essentially be smoke and tires. The onlookers are comprised of every variety of punk rocker and gear head. No matter how bad your tattoos are there's someone here who’s got worse.
There are a variety of prizes doled out to the machines, including: Sketchiest Award, Coolest Award and the People's Choice. Rat Rods roll through, trying to find a place to park. Like their motorcycle counter parts, they're loud, they're custom and they're there to be admired.
After the prizes, the sun starts to drop, and the folks who aren't committed to getting wild head to quieter beer drinking holes. Those remaining to bring in the night are the drag racers, the guys who thought to bring a booze handle, the folks in it till the final drop.
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San Francisco has always had the feel of being one of America’s great grimy cities. Great dive bars, tattoo parlors, strip clubs. North Beach has always been beautiful but seedy; the Tenderloin was notoriously disgusting and dangerous. Market Street had blocks of chess and dice players on the sidewalk, smelling bad and jeering at onlookers. The sailors and the gays throughout… San Francisco was the real deal. Over the past five years the big money tech industries have driven up housing prices and cost of living to the extent that the bar tenders and line cooks who were the gears to the machine, can't begin to afford to live here any more. The city has undeniably changed.
Events like the Dirtbag Challenge represent the remaining aspects of what's made San Francisco stand apart in America. A creative outlet for the people who build the machines, metaphorically and literally, the Dirtbag Challenge is a sight to be seen, an event not to be missed. A reminder of what makes San Francisco great.
A Birthday Letter to Culture Creator Ned Buskirk
/#YG2D
By Joshua Tribe
Happy Birthday Ned Buskirk!!!!! For those of you who don't know, Ned hosts a monthly event--You're Going to Die--that's becoming a San Franciscan institution--an institution in the best sense, which as we should well know, is exceedingly rare. A rare & different tune indeed. I've only been in the Bay and able to attend a few of these spiritual hootenannies--but I treasure those experiences and I'll tell you why: I've never been to anything like it: a secular-spiritual--neither religious nor a non-religious--gathering dedicated to death and dying.
The only guarantee life grants: death, and somehow, the topic is taboo, or if not taboo, certainly not to be thought about too hard or too long--and it must be somber and best done in solitude: stay in thee dwelling should you choose to dwell on death, ha, ho! Ned curates his quiet revolution (a rambunctious unquiet carnival of words and notes) with an immaculate mix of precision and improvisation: scheduled performances and open mic opportunities for singers, poets, spoken wordsmiths or anyone with something to say, someone to remember well to those who are there ... grieving, cavorting, crying, cackling, nothing is off limits--"poetry & prose & everything goes" and it all goes down & everything turns out rhapsodic with Captain Ned steering this vessel that rolls through the silicone dew of San Francisco one Thursday a month. If you're in the Bay Area, go! If you're planning a trip to the Bay, you ought ink it into your itinerary--or type it into your goddamn app that tells you what to do and where to be and when.
The best part, for me, other than the fact that it's several hours of total non-bullshit, is the musical lineup, which often features personal favorites John Elliott, Andrew Blair, Kelly McFarling, not to mention other fantastical local singing-songwriting talent .... If you dig being alive, or you've forgotten that you oughta, check out You're Going to Die.
Thank you for choosing to be incarnated Ned: you're a reminder & an inspiration that we're all here for a reason. Your presence on this earth, manifested through your calling, your support of Andrew Blair, for all these things and those inexpressible, you have my eternal Deadhead gratitude. I know I hardly know you, but I do, and love ya thru & thru.... Selah.
The Valley Fire Engulfs California
/(photo by Andrew Seng, SacBee.com)
By Jordan Latham
September 12 was a Saturday. Residents in the area who saw smoke plumes are quoted as believing careless neighbors were lighting illegal burn piles. You wonder what these folks would have done in that moment had they known what was coming, what action they would have taken to save their homes, their pets, their belongings.
A national disaster is by definition a sudden event that causes widespread destruction, lots of collateral damage or loss of life, brought about by forces other than acts of human beings. Just over 100 miles north of us, on a weekend at the beginning of the month, thousands of our fellow Californians fell victim to a fire that tore through their town. That Saturday September 12 was the first day of a fire that would prove it's self to be a natural disaster they would never forget.
The fire took hold so quickly, firefighters and local officials struggled to evacuate people fast enough. With hot temperatures and high winds, the fire jumped rapidly from home to home. YouTube footage of the fire leaping across a city st., taken on someone's phone, is spine tingling. On Monday September 14, for several hours, it rained. Those of us watching the news at home thought "thank goodness, it will help decrease the spreading and aid in calming the flames". Firefighters reported by Monday, the blaze had become so incredibly hot that the water literally disintegrated before getting anywhere close enough to be helpful. It was so hot that an entire day of rain didn't make a dent.
As of September 28 we ve been told by fire officials that the Valley fireis 97% contained. As the month of October begins more and more people are being allowed to return home. But for hundreds of people, that really means being allowed back into the property where a house previously stood.
In less than 20 days the Valley fire burnt through an estimated total of 1,958 buildings total. 1, 280 of those buildings were homes. 27 were apartment buildings or multi family structures. 66 buildings were commercial properties such as offices and stores, and 585 structures were barns, sheds and garages.
State officials are estimating a current number of 3000 people made homeless by the blaze. FEMA is offering trailers and some financial assistance to folks who suffered uninsured losses. The Calistoga andNapa County Fairgrounds have also been able to house several hundreds of people who have no where else to go. Red Cross has supplied meals and beds.
The community in Lake County and the adjacent Sonoma County have rallied to gather donations of supplies that are immediately necessary, such as underwear, flash lights, batteries, walkers and canes. Local bands played shows for the evacuees at the fair grounds. Walmart donated hot dogs and burgers to BBQ. People have held each other up, in the amazing way neighbors sometimes do when a community is faced by mutual tragedy.
The estimated cost to lake county has been 2.1 million dollars. And unlike Sonoma County next door, Lake County is a poorer area. With a median household income of 40,038$. For those without the necessary insurance to have everything replaced, rebuilding will be a long road.
There has been a wood shed identified as the origination point where the fire first caught. It was a simple structure, with out any electrical systems. There was no spark from a live wire, no smoldering cigarette to blame. Just incredibly dry wood and incredibly hot heat.
On January 17, 2014, Governor Jerry Brown declared a California drought emergency. As of January 2015, Clearlake it's self, with a surface area of 68 square miles, is two feet below average. On April 1, 2015 the California Department of Water Resources measured statewide water content of Sierra snowpack at 5% of it's usual average. This percentage is particularly disturbing because the beginning of April is when the runoff should be at it's peak. 2014 was the 3rd driest year in California on record in 119 years. It was also the hottest year on record. Taking these components under consideration, it does seem as though the state has been working up the perfect conditions for some serious wild fires. The drought had created some dangerously dry environments and the soaring temperatures did the rest. Add the wind, and the fire escalatedfrom bad to ferocious.
Since we are not returning home to fields of rubble, it's easy for us to read that the fire has been contained and just move on with our lives. For people who have only just discovered how much they really lost, the process of dealing with the aftermath if destruction is only just beginning. To help the relief effort, you can send checks directly to our local chapter of the Red Cross at 1663 Market st. San Francisco, CA 94103. They will continue to provide aid to those who are left homeless. There are also multiple upcoming fundraiser events.
On October 3rd at Cache Creek Vinyard and winery Tommy Castro and the Painkillers will preform with Maxx Cabello jr. 100% of the concert proceeds will go directly to support fire victims.
On November 15 at Atwood Ranch 12099 Sonoma Highway, there will be a fundraiser event calledBig Animal Rescue Night. Those of us living here in Oakland don't think livestock problems when we hear fire. But in largely rural areas around Lake County many folks who had to evacuate, were at a loss what to do with their cows and horses. When the whole area had to be evacuated as quickly as it happened, people had no time to plan the housing and transport of their large animals. Donations from Big Animal Rescue night go to an organization called Halter. Halters mission statement is to train first responders to aid rural livestock in emergency situations. More athalterfund.org/barn-event.
For more fundraising events and ways to donate, check out lovelakecounty.org.
Occurrences such as the Valley fireremind us to be mindful about staying prepared. Talk with your family about an exit plan should disaster strike, and stay current on fire insurance.
Really though when something like this happens, as quickly and as fiercely as this fire did, there was very little any one could do in the moment. So take some time to be grateful for your home and the safety of your family. Send a little kindness to those who had those blessings stripped from them. Those of us unaffected now serve as the pillars of support, neighbors lifting neighbors, out of the ashes.
Your 2015 Bay Area Pumpkin Patch Preview
/Do yourself a favor and get down to Half Moon Bay this October. You can't beat pumpkins along the Pacific.
By Jordan Latham
October is here, and man are we ready! It's been a long hot summer, and now it's finally time for the cool down. Along with the lower temperatures of October, we here in the East Bay are all geared up for pumpkin season. Here's a breakdown of my very favorite spots to hit with my young boys when fall finally hits.
In years past, Speer Family Pumpkin Patch has been located beside the outdoor shopping mall Bay st., in Emeryville. This year it's scooted on over to 2153 Ferry Point in Alameda. It's a beautiful area, but it can be windy so close to the Bay, so bring coats for your kids. This pumpkin patch opens October 1 and runs all the way to Halloween. They are rockin' a bounce house, a petting zoo and face painting. Opening at 10am and staying open all the way until 10pm, a day pass will run about 20$. It's a little pricey, but most days I'd happily pay that amount to keep my boys entertained and engaged with something fun outdoors!
About a 30 minute drive from Oakland lies Ardenwood Farm in Fremont. It's host to JE Perry Organic Pumpkin Patch. This spot is no frills, down and dirty pumpkin picking. There is no kitschy Halloween games and decoration, and it is serene and beautiful. The large span of open outdoor space equalizes all the noise, and it feels very quiet. Ardenwood Farm is a functional old school farm, with a big beautiful farm house and original equipment such as tractors and tills pulled by horses. Monday through Friday they're open from noon to 7pm. Saturday and Sunday they open a little earlier from 9am to 7pm and charge 1$ as pumpkin patch admission. It feels like a genuine rural farm experience, with chirping birds in fresh air, and the kids will be wiped out tired after running up down rows to pick the perfect pumpkin (bonus!).
My favorite pumpkin patch is about an hour away, off Mines Rd in Livermore called Joan's Farm & Pumpkin Patch. Joan's is totally adorable, and it's the whole package. First off, the location is worth the drive, Mines Rd is an absolutely beautiful display of fall. Wild turkeys free range all over the farm properties lining the road. Upon arrival you snag a pull wagon from the parking lot, they supply them for hauling around pumpkins. They also work well for hauling small children and the load of lunch boxes and diaper bags that they require. There's a lot to do, so plan on spending some time to take in all the activities. The corn maize is fun and not too expansive for small kids, so you won't get lost. There's an old west town, it's little and great for using that child's imagination. There are hayrides, and pony rides. My boys enjoy the pig pens, they're smelly and they're huge, covered in mud. They section off three large areas full of pumpkins by size. One spot for huge pumpkins, a section for medium and a section for little tiny pumpkins and gourds. They are open daily from 9am to 6pm, but they're cash only so be sure to hit an ATM.
If you are a real pumpkin buff, and want a more adult experience of all things pumpkin, the annual Half Moon Bay Pumpkin Festival is the place to be. The weekend of October 17 and 18 is the 45th year they've put on this event. It features huge, heavyweight champion pumpkins, pumpkin carving contests, pumpkin pie tastings and even a "smashing pumpkins" battle of the bands. With four live stages there's music throughout the day as well as live pumpkin sculpture carving by local artists. They do a full haunted house, a zip line, and a bungie jump. There's a costume contest, and for those who need a little liquid courage before getting on stage, there's all kinds of local pumpkin ales, wines and cocktails to be had. The challenge about this event is traffic and parking. Half Moon Bay is located off of Highway 1, which quickly becomes overwhelmed by festival goers and becomes a traffic jam. Arriving and leaving early seem to be the best advised method. This year, you can actually download a free Pumpkin Festival App! Not only does it have a full event run down, but it has a detailed itinerary of performers and contests for every stage and a list of food and drink vendors. It features a "Find Parking" aspect, with the goal of using maps to alert drivers which lots are full and where you can still find spaces.
October can be a busy month, but make time and mark a weekend or two on the calendar to get the kids out and see some of the festive, fun pumpkin patch activities! You ll be glad you did.
Pumpkins along Highway 1 in Half Moon Bay (photo by http://pumpkinfest.miramarevents.com/)
TRUMP: The American Nightmare
/Illustration by Seth McWhorter (www.SethMcWhorter.com)
By Peter Horn
The quest to unearth the American Nightmare leads you through the nation’s slippery underbelly, past seedy corners framed by slumping silhouettes, through graveyards of shattered dreams and long-forgotten prayers, up a winding trail of revolting excess until your path comes to a dead end, the letters towering over you like a threat: TRUMP.
The irony of your search for the American Nightmare ending in a presidential campaign will not be lost on you, as Uncle Sam’s printed face bulges and swirls into the grotesque, his signature tophat riding a wave of wispy, Clorox-blond hair plugs, his swollen pointer-finger suddenly menacing as his star-spangled overcoat takes on a department store fire-sale cheapness. But the irony will take a backseat to the obviousness of it all, how for years Trump has waved the American flag like a matador at the dull-eyed masses to distract from his utter bastardization of the American Dream.
Trump is the embodiment of our nation’s basest impulses, the modern-day Ugly American with contradiction and hypocrisy sewed throughout every fiber of his corpulent being. The son of an immigrant with a hotel and golf course empire dependent on immigrant labor, who grossly generalizes Mexican immigrants as “rapists and murderers.” The heir to his father’s real estate fortune who advocates an uncompromising brand of bootstrapped free-market capitalism in which programs meant to level the opportunity playing field are socialist and wasteful. The beneficiary of multiple draft deferments with the gall to marginalize the POW experience of one of our nation’s true war heroes.
His dangerous comments on immigration and his tired Obama-birther crusade promotes a xenophobia that is, at its very core, un-American. His America is one where nobility is transferred generationally, a wealth-driven society in which the middle class should be seen and not heard, a melting pot stripped ingredient by ingredient until all that remains is a homogenous broth not unlike the plutocratic social structure our founding forefathers so proudly fled.
It’s greed and the inevitability of entitlement that keeps the pedal pressed to the floor as he rounds hairpin turns at impossible speeds, racing towards the cliff of the next economic cycle in a one-seatbelt convertible with the myopia and selective memory of an addict, the sound of the crash followed closely by the revving of the engine. If the definition of insanity is repeating an action expecting a different result, then there’s a French Cuffed straightjacket waiting for him at the end of this campaign.
Trump crudely equates his personal value to his net worth, which, like his ego, has proven to be inflated. And herein lies the distillation of Trump’s septic American dream: taking all that makes this country unique and (at times) exceptional—freedom, liberty and the opportunity for upward economic and social mobility—and pushing them behind a flashing neon red, white and blue dollar sign.
There are lessons to be learned, even from nightmares. In many ways, Trump is the Presidential candidate we all deserve for allowing the scales of power to be tipped so far in favor of big money and special interests. He is a spray-tanned, vitriol-spewing verdict on the state of our modern political and social strata, and his candidacy should serve as a cautionary tale.
For once we mute the bluster and peel away the layers of hair plugs and veneers, we can see Trump for what he truly is. He’s a vacant McMansion on an unfinished block, a suburban promise never meant to be kept who’s forced to draw attention to the glittery surface for fear one peers beneath. He’s the American flag paper plates crammed into the clearance rack on July 5th. He’s a bloated wolf in red, white and blue-stained sheep’s clothing. He is the American Nightmare.
Jay Stone Waltzes Through Oakland in New Video
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By Connor Buestad | Connor@Section925.com
We at Section925 love us some Jay Stone. So you can bet we were psyched to hear about his new video to his rap track “Recollection.” Adrian Spinelli at Everything Ecstatic alerted us of the news (by way of Impose) and we have been enjoying the lovely visuals to this song ever since.
We went ahead and threw this song in the culture section, only because capturing some of Oakland’s culture was clearly part of Jay’s game plan in this particular video. As Stone told Impose, “A lot of the album was inspired by being out in my environment observing the people around me and the way they move and the things they say. I combined that with my own imagination.”
The producer behind this jaunt through Oakland was Ted Feighan of L.A. Ted produces music under the name Monster Rally. His collaborations with Mr. Stone have been delightful thus far. We can only hope the Foreign Pedestrians EP leads to more creativity we can all enjoy.
"The path ahead and the path behind, try to stay in the present mind." - Joey Campanelli on the Pacific Crest Trail
/“Starting in May, Joey Campanelli set off running along the Pacific Crest Trail. Beginning in Mexico, the 2,650 mile voyage cuts through California, Oregon, and Washington before ending in Canada. Joey Camps’ goal was to beat the self-supported trail record of 60 days, 17 hours, 12 minutes, set by Heather “Anish” Anderson in 2013. This is his retro-diary. Check back for updates as they become available... ”
A retro diary by Joey Campanelli (via JoeyCamps.Blogspot.com)
Pacific Crest Trail Day 1: "Ease In Please"
Tuesday May 19, 2015
Welcome to my Joey "Flash" Camps write up of my PCT hike, 2015.
The goal of the hike was to have fun, experience some beauty, and ultimately see what my body could do.
The current unsupported record for the PCT is set by Heather "Anish" Anderson at 60days 17hours 12mins. The current supported record for the PCT is set by Joe McConaughy at 53 days 6 hours 37mins.
I will be traveling as an unsupported hiker, which means:
Walk into and out of resupply towns to purchase or pick up prepacked and mailed supplies.
Hike as a backpacker, carrying all food and equipment between resupply towns.
Follow the official PCT route, including official closure detours.
Do not have anyone follow, or provide support in a prearranged manner.
Do not get into a vehicle for any reason during the attempt.
Honestly and thoroughly document the attempt.
Practice Leave-No-Trace ethics.
The unsupported record miles per day (MPD) is ~43.9mpd and supported ~49.9mpd. Honestly, I want the unsupported record, sure, but what I wanted more than anything is to see what I was capable of, give it my best and see what it is.
I was thinking and still think, that unsupported I could do 50mpd with everything going right and me absolutely laying it out there.
So here we go...
Day 1 5-19-2015
Mile 0 – Mile 52.7
Last year when I set off for the Appalachian Trail (AT) everything was new, backpacking, hiking, long trails, new. There was a nervousness and naivety that surrounded me.
Well I got hiking and that quickly went away and I was comfortable. This year, there was build up, anticipation …planning. Yes, I spent many hours at the computer, first just getting all of my resupply boxes dialed and shipped. But then it was time spent looking for anything that could help me carry less food/water, places to stay, outfitter stores in case equipment broke, anything. I was scrolling through the PCT maps, google maps and even mapping out routes into town on mapmyride to find the shortest distance.
I spent so much time looking at maps, that eventually on the trail I could imagine those topo lines as I ventured down this section or that. A LOT of time. I was prepared. Ready. No. You are never ready. But I was comfortable and confident in the planning I did.
So off I flew to San Diego, where I was picked up by trail angel Robert Riess. I spent the night at his house along with the other five hikers he had picked up and would be dropping of at the trail in the morning. See that is the thing about long trails, there is a magic, a special power. It transforms people, it makes them better in some way. So countless times, you will encounter complete strangers that are willing to bend over backwards for you, a dirty, smelly hiker that they just met. In this case, I was fairly clean, I had my usual stink and the ride’s were prearranged. But none the less, we will see instances of magic later in our story.
At the house I met two English brothers who were on holiday who plan to hike the entirety of the trail averaging about 30 miles per day (pretty fast) One just finished college and the other between years. We decided to walk together to get lunch/groceries/dinner (our last supper) As we talked about our trip plans, we made way to talking about me hiking the AT last year and ski mountaineering all winter long and now hiking the PCT. One of them turned to me and asked, “so are you a professional athlete?” I chuckled at the question. “No” I said, “Though I would like to be” “I am just a ski bum, so like a pro athlete, just no money!” I grabbed a bunch of veggies, pasta salad and juice, the stuff I would be missing out on the trail and we headed back.
Now we are sitting around waiting to go to sleep, waiting to be driven to the trail. Can’t we just be hiking already. Suddenly, I realize, geez I am in sunny San Diego about to start hiking the PCT. It really hadn’t dawned on me until that moment. Why just yesterday, I was looking out my window in Alta at a fresh 16” of snow that had just fallen and all I could think about was skiing. It is okay though, it is mid May and it will turn to Jank before an hour passes. But still, hiking in the desert? So I am realizing this and starting to get “nervous” probably not the correct work, but my body started vibrating with energy. I AM READY, I think. So I go to sleep.
We pile in the van at 430 and are driven to the trial head by Mr Riess. It is awfully quiet, and Mr Riess says, “this is the quietest bunch of hikers I have had yet” I couldn’t let that happen! So I start talking boorishly about the trail. Making sure everyone knows to go to the bathroom by water sources, don’t filter water (that is stupid) don’t carry water in the desert and make sure to sleep on top of ridges when you get into the Sierras. We all have a snicker and return to silence…oh well, I tried. We arrive at the trial head and climb out of the van haphazardly. We took a group photo. I clocked my starting time (5:30am May 19th 2015).
Off I went, running away from these poor strangers I had met and disturbed oh so rapidly. It had sprinkled the night before. So instead of being sandy and soft, it was smooth and hard almost like sidewalk cement. It made for easy passage and I couldn’t believe how fast I was going. I was trying to not go “too hard” and be really sore or tired for tomorrow. That being said I love running and I did run, when it was “easy”. I saw two rattle snakes in the matter of 20 minutes on the Fred Canyon ridge. I don’t mind rattlers, but boy do they snap you back into reality when you are day dreaming in the midday sun. I started Chaffing between my legs, something I kind of expected wearing my compression tights in the heat. I shoved my compression sock down there and was good to go. As the sun headed down, I eased off the throttle and began to cool down. I rolled into Pioneer Mail campground at about eight in the evening. I felt like I wanted to keep going but I thought 53 miles was a good start and I wanted to be able to “go” tomorrow. Slept like a baby.
A retro diary by Joey Campanelli (via JoeyCamps.Blogspot.com)
Pacific Crest Trail Day 2: "Getting Lost (It's a Good Thang)"
Wednesday May 20, 2015
Miles 52.7 - 106.2 Sleep 2100 - 430
Felt good waking up and I was off. The sun rise was off, the hook. I was on the East side of a ridge and had a view for the entire hour and a half show. I couldn’t help but feel like “hell yea, this is where I am suppose to be” At some point in the early morning, I reached the Mason Truck rd, I had to walk a ways on the road then take a left. I flipped my pack around and started eating a packet of Ramen. This is a strategy I use and like; I eat the ramen dry, which I fancy the taste to be like some kind of cracker. Then I use the seasoning packet to flavor my water and give my body the extra 1.4-1.8grams of sodium it craves. I am a bit hypotensive and therefore on any given day consume a ton of sodium; imagine how much I consume in the desert heat. Sure that I would see the sign, I just kept walking. It must have been when I was eating and not paying attention. But I started getting the feeling that I missed the turn and was going too far down the road. I looked at the map and thought, “no maybe, I haven’t gone far enough” “It is always farther than you think” but then I started going downhill and reached a switchback. I knew I had gone too far. I let out a quick “bleep” and then told myself to calm down, it is no big deal. When I got back to where the trail was, I guess I had gone about 1.2 miles in the wrong direction, adding 2.4 miles to the journey, oh well!
After that I was cruising. Smooth easy trail, easy grade and some downhill got me to the highway 78 water cache a little before noon. Now 24 miles until the next water on the trail and in the mid day sun. I camel’d up and took three liters of water. I had electrolyte tabs and only used four. It was easier and more comfortable than I thought. Of course, usually I can do a 20 mile run at home with no water. But you get nervous seeing as you are backpacking, in a foreign place and it is hotter than usual. I definitely got fried on this south facing ridge, with the sun high in the sky. But as the sun went down and the temperatures cooled, I came back to life. I was booking along after my fresh water refill and enjoying moving by headlamp. When I saw two eyes staring at me from about 300 feet. I thought “stupid deer”, but then it blinked and moved. Deer usually just stare at you, because they are dumb and think that you have just as bad of vision as they do, and if they don’t move, you won’t be able to see them. So now my attention is drawn. It was hard to tell but by the way it moved and the under belly looked white, I presumed it was a mountain lion (hard to say). But I counted it, and picked up my pace…as if I would out run the mountain lion. My thought on mountain lions is this; I was born in the year of the Fire Tiger and I am a Leo. Basically, I am a Fire Tigon. A mountain lion would have to be crazy to eff with me. Now this is just what I tell myself…we all know the reality. But I know I won’t go down without a fight…if I get the chance. Most likely, if a mountain lion were to attack you, they would sneak up and get your neck, you wouldn’t even know you were dead. So nothing to worry about, so I don’t. Moving at night always gives me a weird, eerie feeling, the senses spike and I feel super attentive, but after awhile I tire and just want to sleep. I was exhausted; so I ate, brushed my teeth and cooled down. I set up camp by Eagle rock and passed out.
A retro diary by Joey Campanelli (via JoeyCamps.Blogspot.com)
Pacific Crest Trail Day 3: "Paradise is a Taco Salad"
Thursday May 21, 2015
Miles 106.2 - 159.7 Sleep 2200 - 400
When I woke up, I felt rather tired and a bit sore. No big deal, I should be. It took me almost two hours to warm up and feel semi decent. As I was leaving Warner Springs, down a hill and across a creek, I saw him good. I turned my headlamp to the high setting, which is like a car low beam. The mountain lion jumped ten feet in air and to the side. Almost enough to make it out of the lights field. Damn, I thought. If I could move like that. But then I remembered, that they over heat in no time. Yes, I guess I would rather be a human for my adventure. However; I often envy some of the other creatures on this planet and there physical abilities. The day got hot quick once some fog and clouds cleared. About 23 miles in, I took my only rest. I found a spot with a back rest and feet up combo. I quickly untie my shoes and rip of my socks. I lay the shoes and socks in the sun and make sure my feet get some too. This is an important thing I try to do each and every day. I don't like to take breaks, I lose momentum. But in a 16-18 hour day, there is plenty of time to get it back. It feels refreshing when you put your socks and shoes back on and they feel lighter and drier. But the most important for me, is that it give the skin a chance to dry and become hard again, instead of staying wet and getting softer. I think it will be less of a problem on the PCT because of the drier climate compared to the AT. But I am not taking any chances and I am staying on top of it.
It seemed like the miles were getting longer and I knew the heat and sun was getting to me. It is funny to me, when I know I have a “check point” coming up, in this case the Pine to Palms Highway. I start guessing that “oh this is that last bend before the descent” or “this is that turn you make, then you are almost to the turn to the descent, so you are almost there” to which, I start giving myself shit. Because it is always farther than you think and I really have no clue where I am. I will look over at a boulder and think to myself (sarcastically) “oh yea Joey, that is that boulder on map, you are almost there…..yea shut up and just keep moving” Yes, I talk to myself that way. But when you slow down as you get closer to a target, you got to do something to just get you moving faster again. So a little tough love. Finally I saw the Pine to Palms highway and I was relieved as I knew it was a short descent and then a mile to my resupply. I got to Paradise Café, plugged in and ordered a taco salad. I got my resupply box and started repacking. I ate my salad, finished packing and used the facilities. I was back off hiking in just about an hour. Quick resupplies are something I want to focus on. I find that the longer I spend in “town” the more I eat, the more comfortable I get and the less I want to leave. I got back on the trail feeling good and super satisfied that I did a quick resupply. I rode this energy and hiked for another three hours feeling good. The last hour I ate and brushed my teeth. Found a campsite and settled down with a feeling of supreme satisfaction. I had my first “battle” day, where things didn’t go easy-smooth, I had a good resupply and I crushed it on miles. I have no problem patting myself on the back, except my backpack is in the way;-)
A retro diary by Joey Campanelli (via JoeyCamps.Blogspot.com)
Pacific Crest Trail Day 4: "Mt. San Jacinto"
Friday May 22, 2015
Miles 159.7 - 204.8 Sleep 2200 - 317
Woke up to rain drops dripping on my head. It was 3:17am, 43 minutes before my alarm. I figured I might as well get up, get going and finish the road walk section before too many cars were out. It was windy with the rain kind of spitting, which made for a cold morning. I was on the Hurkey Creek section when I clipped a low hanging branch. It grabbed my rain jacket (must have just been a funny angle) and I heard a loud rip. Looking down, I let out a slight curse, but kept moving. I had a foot long gash in the torso section of my jacket. When the rain let up for a bit, I took the jacket off and taped it with duct tape. It didn’t really hold and I could tell was not going to be a long term fix. The next thing I did was check my phone for cell service. Bingo, searched outfitters and found “Nomad Ventures” in Idyllwild only 1.9 miles off the trail. At the store I was also able to pick up a thermal top and some wool socks. I didn’t have any warm layers yet, as I thought I was going to be hot in the desert.
I got out of town and had a wonderful, fog engulfed, spitting rain/snow traverse of Mt. San Jacinto. The nice thing about being cold, whether you are tired, hungry, thirsty, you are constantly reminded that you are cold. The best way to get warm; is move and move faster. I think this helped me make quick time around the mountain. Finally, in the afternoon after descending the Fuller ridge a bit, the sun came out and warmed me to the bone. I stopped at one windy spot and was able to dry out my gear and my feet really quick. My feet had gotten pretty soggy and it was nice to have them dry and hard again. In sitting there, I was staring up at Mt San Jacinto in aw. It was a gorgeous peak, half engulfed in cloud, the other half baking in the sun. I couldn’t believe I had just traversed this peak. I daydreamed about skiing it. The North had two or three basins that had many chutes that came together into a massive run-out. I would imagine if we got the planet some few degrees colder and a good snow year; you could ski the beast from the peak ~10,800 all the way down to ~1,800 feet. 9,000 feet of gloriousness. Haha yup, this is what I dream about.
Mount San Jacinto
Ski mountaineering was a big part of my training. During the winter I averaged about 5k vertical climbing everyday with ski’s on my feet. This not only got the legs, lungs and heart in shape but also keeps the fat off and makes the transition to running much easier. All of this hiking was done at an elevation of ~8-11k feet, which helps get you used to the high elevations faced in the Sierras. The PCT is claimed to have 450k vertical for the entire 2,650 miles. That is 170 feet per mile average and thus in a 50 mile day you should average 8.5k vertical feet. So basically, for four months straight through (it would be five or six months, but it just didn’t snow this year) I was doing about two thirds the vertical I would have to do on the PCT. That kind of training gives you the confidence it takes to tackle such an endeavor. However; descending on ski’s is much easier than in shoes. I made my way on what seemed like a never ending descent. I thought for sure in an hour and a half to two hours I would have made it down to the highway. Well I ended up giving up on the notion of making the highway tonight and found a nice little camp spot cut into the side of the hill. I was tired, it was a long day and I was supremely satisfied once more, this time with how I handled the adversity of ripping my jacket and some cold wet weather.
A retro diary by Joey Campanelli (via JoeyCamps.Blogspot.com)
Pacific Crest Trail Day 5: "Uphill Battle"
Saturday May 23, 2015
Miles 204.8 - 251.5 Sleep 2145 - 530
Well I slept in, not on purpose. I had only been using my watch for an alarm, as to save my phone battery. I must have hit the button to stop the alarm without knowing or did not hear it because of the wind. Either way I woke up at 530 instead of 400, whoops. Well I am sure that the hot section I have to hike through today will be even more fun now, seeing as how I will be there more like 1200 then 1030. Anyhow, I was cruising and it felt good. After a while though, I couldn’t help but feel like every step was uphill and I was just crawling along. Well, it was! I climbed about 7,000 net vertical feet. I therefore had no reason to get upset about how much walking I did for the day. Finally, I reached a place with a view. And what a view. I could not tell, but I assumed there was a lake down on the horizon and thus the reason the fog-cloud had pooled in that valley. Gorgeous! If I could, I would have set up camp there and watched the sun set right into the cloud. But I seem to remember I am trying to get to Canada as fast as my legs will carry me, so onward. It was nice and cool in the early evening, which was a pleasant change of pace to the temperature all day. I knew I was in for a cold night of sleeping, which I always sleep really well in the cold and was excited for that. I ate dinner and walked on in the cold, having trouble seeing through my breath in my headlamps light. Finally, I said enough and laid up for the night.
Big Bear
A retro diary by Joey Campanelli (via JoeyCamps.Blogspot.com)
Pacific Crest Trail Day 6: "The River"
Saturday May 24, 2015
Miles 251.5 - 302 Sleep 2145 - 400
I was right: slept amazing. I didn’t want to get up in the morning, because I was sleeping so well, but also because it was so cold. But Canada on my mind. I was up and moving fast to stay warm. I moved well for the first ten hours of the day, the music was hitting the spot, the trail easy, the views beautiful; I was flowing, in the river. My philosophy on life; The River; go with the flow and it is all downhill. You can eddy out when you want, portage if you need, or just send that waterfall when you feel like it (I thought I was reading a hiking trip report, not philosophical babblings) It was getting hot in the afternoon and I was exposed in the sun the entire way. When I stopped to get water and dry out my feet, I lost all momentum. My feet were pretty wet and so I spent the little extra time making sure they were dry. I continued slowly running on this apparently never ending descent. All I wanted to do was walk and looked forward to some uphill. It never came, the trail rolled along a river and then into a flat valley. The beautiful sunset only slightly distracted me from the fact that I was fried, needed water and desperately wanted to walk. Finally, I hit Deep creek and was able to camel up for the night. I also got to walk uphill, for about 500 feet. Then it was rolling trail cut into the side of the canyon. I trudged on and finally setup camp in a bend in the trail. I was warned that there was no camping for the next 12 miles or so, but when you are just bivying you don’t need much. Also, setting up late and leaving early, I have no problem sleeping right on the trail a night or two, which tonight I was.
Peace and love everybody!
A retro diary by Joey Campanelli (via JoeyCamps.Blogspot.com)
Pacific Crest Trail Day 7: "California Love, We Keep It Rocking"
Sunday May 25, 2015
Miles 302 - 354 Sleep 2215 - 415
As the sun rose, I realized how absolutely beautiful the canyon I was in really was. The trail was cut into the side of the canyon the whole way, nothing more than a two foot ledge. It was rolling downhill and once again I was cruising. When I crossed Deep creek for the last time at the bottom, I stood right in the creek to soak my feet while I cameled up. I knew it was going to be a long hot section in the sun and it was already feeling hot at nine or so in the morning. Boy was I right. I kept trucking but I felt like I was totally out of it. I was glad my pack weighed next to nilch. This was the first test of my nutrition training and man was it paying off. I packed enough food from Paradise Café to barely make it to Cajon canyon. If I felt like I wasn’t going to make it, I would suck up the four miles and get a resupply in Big Bear Lake. Well as I rolled by Big Bear, I decided with confidence that yes indeed I would go for it and I would surely make it. I had three Nature Valley bars and two packets of Ramen at the start of the day. 1,300 calories for 40 miles. I got this easy I thought. Why? Because for over a year I have been working on my nutrition. I discovered that, indeed the human body is capable of a lot more than anyone thinks. It might be uncomfortable, but you can go very far with no food and limited water. So training; all winter long, I would have my big meal at night 1700-1800 because that is when our employee meal is, I know the time. I would go to bed. Get up 5-6 in the morning. Get all my ski gear together/on and start hiking. I would hike for as long as I could without eating anything. Then I would slowly sip on juice I had packed along. Often times this meant I hadn’t eaten anything for 15-16 hours. And I would slowly be supplying some carbohydrate for the body to use up immediately. Often times I would hike for eight to ten hours on two or three liters of juice. On days I was spoiled I would also have some energy cake leftover from the evening past. Why would I do this? Well it works out nice that you save time not packing a lunch and don’t have to carry it. But no, the real reason is to teach my body to get used to running on fat and fat only. Also, to get used to how it feels mentally to only run on fat. It is important for your body to be able to utilize fat very well, but equally important you have to be comfortable with the feeling. It is different then when you have some carbohydrate. When you have carbohydrate you feel fresher and crisper mentally. When you are running on fat, you feel sluggish and foggy mentally. Once you get used to the feeling though, it is not that bad.
And so, I knew I had some food, but if I had to I could make it to Cajon Canyon with nothing more. Carrying less food, means less weight. Less weight is important when you are doing something like this. Less weight means less work, which means less calories burned. It also means less work your muscles do and less impact when running downhill. On a hot day, you ultimately are doing less work, therefore creating less heat and staying “cooler” And by having a lighter pack, mentally I feel lighter and feel more like running or moving faster. Yes, I am that obsessive and nit picky, every little thing makes a difference when you are going long. So cruising through the heat feeling lighter and cooler, I reached the top of the ridge. All that was left was the long downhill to my resupply at Cajon Canyon. A Cheveron…my favorite resupply (gas station). I felt like I didn’t even have a pack on at all. Such a good feeling had me flying. I got to the road and started the rehearsal of my resupply. I got my OJ and all while drinking, I fill my stuff sack with the appropriate amount of junk food. I was out quick, damn I am getting good at this. As I went under the bridge overpass, there was a group of hiker’s setup for the night playing drinking games. They offered me a beer and told me to setup camp with them. Man, I sure would have loved to. No thanks was all I said as I kept walking. All I could think was, I still got another ten or so miles to hike…probably as many as they did the whole day to get there, ugh. My pack felt so heavy in comparison, damn I thought, this is what 200 miles worth of food feels like. Wait it is only 100 miles to the next resupply. That is right! I got extra food to pig out while I walk up this hill. And so the feast began. Luckily for me, I can’t eat that fast while walking and it saves me from over doing it and laying comatose on the side of the trail. None the less, my stomach hurt and I thought I might knock it off. The last hour and a half I didn’t eat a thing and my stomach finally cleared. Perfect. Set up camp and passed out satisfied with a great week of hiking, well running, or speedmoving? What am I doing? And also a feeling of vindication of my training and that it is working for me.
Delicate Sky
Now that is how you start
A retro diary by Joey Campanelli (via JoeyCamps.Blogspot.com)
Pacific Crest Trail Day 8: "California Soul; Music Is A Rockin'"
Monday May 26, 2015
Miles 354 - 401 Sleep 2200 - 400
“Like a sound you hear
That lingers in your ear
But you can’t forget
From sundown to sunset
It’s all in the air
You hear it everywhere
No matter what you do
It’s gonna grab a hold on you”
The sunrise this morning was amazing above a valley inversion. The trail was nice pine needley dirt engulfed in huge pine trees. I felt like I was in heaven. When “California Soul” came on my shuffle, I turned it loud and got proud with my Cali soul. I miss Cali. I reminisced about living in the bay area a few years ago as the trail continued a long the ridge all day right next to the Angeles Crest highway. I took a break in one of the parking lots as the trail crossed the road and was about to head up a big climb. I dried my feet good and got to chat with a few other hikers. When it was time to move again, I felt refreshed. I was powering up the climb. I could look up and see a beautiful Sun Dog or 22° halo. There is a song by Lord Huron called “In the Wind” and there is a ski edit titled “Sun Dog”(Sun Dog Video if you got a minute) that uses the song, that we (My skimo partner) and I highly enjoy. We often sing the words as we are losing our minds on the longer days as a joke or mood lifter. Well the song came on my shuffle. I couldn’t help but be instantly teleported to the Wasatch mountains covered in snow. I felt numb and couldn’t tell if I was walking uphill in the snow with skis on my feet or hiking the PCT. Didn’t matter. I just started crying and moving faster, I was numb. What an experience, I live for these moments! I reached the top of the hill, sobered up and got back to business. Nothing like 5-10-15 minutes of free, easy, no effort movement to get me further up the trail. I cruised along the crest the rest of the day. I didn’t hate on the road walk that was part of the detour. Most times I would get upset that I was walking along the road. Especially when you are on such a beautiful trail and then you get plopped out next to cars with their exhaust and inconsiderate drivers. I mean I know there is a double yellow line, but there isn’t another car on the road for miles. I think you could scooch over and give me more than just a foot of space as you wiz past me doing 40 mph. Enough about fatties who never ran a day in their lives. I was exhausted when the sun went down, but on a downhill. I tried to just keep the mojo going, but faded. I ate, brushed my teeth and passed out right next to the road.
Perfect Pine Needley Forest Trail
A retro diary by Joey Campanelli (via JoeyCamps.Blogspot.com)
Pacific Crest Trail Day 9: "Effin A and the KOA"
Tuesday May 27, 2015
Miles 401 - 447 Sleep 2200 - 400
The morning was cool, with some trapped cold air in little canyons on the way. But that sun came up and it was quickly hot once more. I am really glad I did all that heat training before getting on the trail. I would crank the sauna, stretch as I usually do, but just see how long I could stay in there at 170degrees and 10% humidity, brutal. I passed the 420 mile mark. Of course it was the nicest mile marker with decorations of a plant/flower of some kind. When I say mile mark: people are able to tell where they are via an app on the phone. Often there is a “500” written with rocks or something like that. It is not the highway; there are not green signs every mile of the trail. This 420 mile mark reeked of marijuana. There was not a rolled up joint for every hiker to celebrate there completion of 420 miles. Although, that is a thought for some trail magic…just saying. No instead the smell is radiating from a plant called “Poodle Dog Bush” Which, is an invasive noxious plant that grows rapidly after a wildfire rages. It is similar to poison-oak and can really mess up your hike. I am entering a pretty long section infested with it.
In the heat of the day, I am picking my way through the poison plant. It sucked, I was miserable, “get me out of here” I thought. At one point, I am sideways on the trail trying to avoid touching the plant to my left, while not touching it on my right. I am covered in sweat and so uncomfortable. Then I hear it. Like glass shattering. The high pitched sound of a rattler. “Oh eff me, I think” standing still as to not touch any plant or startle the snake more, I try to figure out where the snake is. I can’t see anything, the trail is all overgrown and there is no sight to the ground. Shit. Kill me now, I think. A few deep breaths later and I am able to make out what I think is the snake. So I continue picking my way through the poodle dog bush. The snake seems to be getting louder, but surely he will understand my predicament? Not how it works? So I got out of that situation, walked for ten minutes or so to relax then found a place to regroup. Laying on my back, with my feet up; I think to myself, Joey relax. It is just a stupid plant and a little reptile. You are suppose to be hiking 50 miles a day. You are suppose to be a badass. Suck it up and stop being a pussy! And sure enough that worked. I keep hiking on for a ways. Dripping sweat and losing my mind. When I looked up and realized that I had startled a young female “airing out” a little ways off the trail. She covered up sort of, but remained topless. I awkwardly tried not to be awkward. I kept my glance forward on the trail, but tried to be friendly, as though not ignoring her. Yes, real smooth Joey. We deduced that it was hot out (thus the nudity) and I wished her a good day as I moved on. Feeling dumb, I got a chuckle about the encounter. Thinking to myself, “whelp, I don’t know if I could have made that more awkward” I should be used to it, all those street festivals back in San Fran. But I guess it just caught me off guard. This kind of thing happens on the trail, not super often. But I can’t count the times where I hadn’t seen someone for hours and decide I am just going to change my shorts right here. And then magically there is always someone walking around the bend. And I get to do the, “OH, HEY, nice day huh?” So it is good to receive for a change, or give, I don’t know.
Focus! Yes back to…what was I doing again? Oh yea, dripping sweat, getting fried and losing my mind. Like the scene from the movies, I reached the next water. Running, lunging forward and falling to my knees. Face plant H2O style. Water never tasted so good. I was actually excited for the next nine miles. It was a huge descent down to my resupply. I thought, “I am going to rip this up and be flying” all full of myself. And full of **it I was. I ran a bit but my quads started giving out, damn this is a long descent. Finally, I popped out at the road and was basically limping. I walked/hobbled over to the Acton KOA and was surprised by the hoard of thru hikers. It was like a music festival, only dirtier…if that is possible. Got my package from the store and sprawled out on the lawn to repack my pack. So I want you to visualize when you are packing for a trip and you have your stuff all spread out on the bed at home. Okay, now that is me, except on the grass, with my shoes off and feet up on the picnic bench. I see a nice looking fella come over and kneel down by the sprinkler box. He starts poking at it with a screwdriver he has procured from his pocket (looks like he has done this before). I ask, “oh are you going to turn the sprinklers on? Do I need to move?” He looks up at me and grunts. Since he wasn’t adamant about it, and didn’t make more notion as I stayed put, I figured, NO, no Joey, you do not have to move, you will not get wet. Well you shouldn’t assume…ASS. Sure enough the water starts spraying and now I am doing the Chinese fire drill trying to move all my stuff to a safe zone. All in all, pretty hilarious…just not for me. It was nice to get wet, but my electronic stuff is rather adverse to water. I pack up in huff and retreat back to the trail before cursing too much and making a scene. As I am walking uphill from the KOA, the tiredness sets in. I thought I was going to hike on for another three or so hours. I decide if I am this tired, I must need the rest. Bed early, wake early and make up for it. I realize in writing this, this was by and far my most “exciting” or “dramatic” day on the trail. Touché KOA
420 miles done! I get a gold star?
If only I could glide down there
A retro diary by Joey Campanelli (via JoeyCamps.Blogspot.com)
Pacific Crest Trail Day 10: "Aqua Dulce, Where?"
Wednesday May 28, 2015
Miles 447 - 494 Sleep 2000 - 200
Woke up to a sweet cold morning. I moved swiftly getting through the town of Agua Dulce and got off the road before too many cars. Then it was hot, hot and more hot. Big water carry, seeing as I couldn’t rely on any caches. 15 miles on a sun baked south-southwest side of a low elevation ridge. It was hot. I thought all my sauna’ing would have helped me with this or maybe it is really just that hot. I am trying to run a long but the whole time my eyes wonder to Bouquet Resevoir below. If only I could sprout wings and glide down, I would just face plant into the cool blue. Although, I guess if I magically became able to fly I would probably do something cooler…maybe not though, it was hot. I got to the Green Valley fire station around 1330 and drank my fill of water. I decided before the trip, if it got too hot during the day to hike (i.e. I am losing power, losing focus, losing my mind, or dangerous) that I would try to nap during the heat and hike later at night. So, today would be the first giver-go. I laid in the shade with my legs vertical up on the building. I actually closed my eyes and dreamed a bit. When I came to, thirty minutes had passed. But I felt like I was asleep for a full night of sleep, dreams and all. I guess that is what you get when you are that tired; you sleep faster. But I didn’t want to go back out and hike eleven miles on asphalt in the mid afternoon sun for this detour. I tried to sleep more but was really just in a haze. I decided that it was a wash just dazing here versus hiking.
So I packed up and got moving. When I got back to the trail head, I was reading the sign and realized they had opened a section of trail. Great. I thought this detour was going to shave off a few miles but now I have to out and back for about three miles. I ditched my pack and got it done without fussing too much. It felt weird to not have my pack on. Now back at the road, the fun part. There was no shoulder and Cali drivers are apparently afraid of crossing the double yellow, even if no cars are coming the other way for miles. So I got really close to a bunch of cars going 50 mph spitting there exhaust at me…it was awesome! I finally got through the town and onto the more country road section. There were hardly lanes and the road to gravel shoulder was so crowned it hurt my knee. I was walking a third out in the lane and when the four cars I passed the rest of the way came, I scooched over to the absolute side of the road. Two of them honked at me and made wild gestures for me to move over, off the road get in the bushes, I am coming through. I can never understand how lazy you have to be to turn your car steering wheel half and inch and then back for two effin seconds. But they have never run/walked on such a road and just don’t understand. Still how could they be so ignorant. Oh conversations with my multi personalities. Oh hey, watch out, Ostrich crossing…WAIT what?! I thought I was really losing it for a second, but I took a picture and the sign was real, I deduced. Ostrich Crossing…don’t see that everyday. Man this heat is really getting to me. I was glad when the detour took me off the road and back to the woods, my escape from the scary creatures; back with the mountain lions, bears and dirty hikers. Thank goodness my kind of crowd. I hiked in a ways and set up for the night. A cool breeze comforted me as I massaged my feet and legs while laying on my back.
It was a long day
Heading out into the aquaduct
A retro diary by Joey Campanelli (via JoeyCamps.Blogspot.com)
Pacific Crest Trail Day 11: "Funky Town"
Thursday May 29, 2015
Miles 494 - 536.7 Sleep 2200 - 400
Today was all about strategy. I was coming into the low elevation desert crossing before returning back up into the mountains. The plan was to get to Hikertown mile 518, get my resupply box, nap for a bit then tackle the flat hot aquaduct portion at night. Well things went to plan, sort of. I got my hustle on and got the 24 miles to Hikertown done by about 1130. It was already brutally hot and I was glad to reach the oasis of Hikertown. Kind of a funky place, I dig it. It was like a fake western town as you might see at an amusement park for kids. Different little buildings named “town store” “post office” “jail” each was about the size of a bed room and about half of them were exactly that. I posted up at one off by myself. I opened my resupply box and repacked my pack. Then I napped in the shade the best I could. When my alarm went off at 1800, I felt rested and ready to tackle the aquaduct. I looked at the thermometer tucked in under the roof in the shade, 92 degrees. Well it should only be getting cooler.
As I got up I felt a breeze I hadn’t felt in awhile. Sure I had a hole in compression tights on my butt. But as I reached and felt, hmm what is going on? Oh, the tights had ripped along the whole seam. Each butt cheek was still covered, but my crack was full on out there. At first I thought, I kind of like this. Nice built in aeration system. Butt, in the 200 feet I had to walk to get to the garage where the big group of hikers was hanging out; I already got comments from two people about the view. Damn, butt why were they checking out my ass anyway? So I grabbed some pants from the hiker box, as there were no shorts. I cut the wind breaker pants and made some skimpy shorts to wear. I changed and located a sewing kit. Oh yea, you know how you have sewn maybe once or twice in your life. Well time to sew a stretched out seam shut…haha yeah right. Well I tried, failed miserable and decided I would stick to my day job. Well in the desert, it was going to become my night job. So I took off around 2000 instead of 1830, with my 185 miles worth of food and three liters of water. My pack felt heavy. Good thing the entire thing was flat and I was able to shuffle stride a good amount of it. By about 200 I was doing the head bob and decided I should get a nap in. Still being 80 or so degrees out, I just laid on my stuff sack for padding and let my feet hang up on a rock. You know like a hammock, only made of rock and hard dirt. Didn’t matter I was so tired, I would have slept standing if possible.
“Gotta make a move to a town that is right for me
Town to keep me movin’
Keep me groovin’
with some energy”
"Brew Age" - A Craft Brew Revolution in the Bay Area
/By Connor Buestad | Connor@Section925.com
With summer now in full swing, beer gardens on all corners of The Bay are ripe with craft brews of all colors and creeds being thoroughly enjoyed. With the ongoing, albeit never ending celebration of beer in mind, we figured it was a good time to re-visit Oct28 Productions’ original documentary series on craft brew in the San Francisco Bay. The short format, documentary-style show is called Brew Age and delves into some interesting nooks and crannies of the industry. The filmmaking is top notch, and the creativity and progressive beer engineering on display is something to be applauded. Enjoy some handpicked segments of the Brew Age series below. If nothing else, it will give you something to talk about over your next artfully crafted pint.
Almanac Beer Company
The Almanac Beer Company, founded in 2010, is the brainchild of Jesse Friedman and Damian Fagan. The two started brewing beer in their respective San Francisco apartments with five-gallon stovetop batches and eventually crossed paths in a home brew club in the Bay Area. The men of Almanac are progressing the art of barrel aging, to go along with a focus on creating unique and unusual beer. You can find them taking the industry to the next level in the Dogpatch.
Calicraft Brewing Company
Blaine Landberg, the founder of Calicraft Brewing Company, was born and raised in Chico, California, home of the venerable Sierra Nevada Brew Co. Now operating out of Walnut Creek, Blaine’s first beer was called "Buzzerkeley," after the UC Berkeley dorm room he was learning to brew in at the time. Blaine’s ambitious Sparkling Ales just might cut out a whole new segment of the craft beer industry, so find a bottle of his Wild Wit and get in on the ground floor.
Social Kitchen and Brewery
Kim Sturdavant, originally from Eugene, Oregon got his feet wet in California brewing at Marin Brewing Company. Now at Social Kitchen and Brewery in the Sunset District, Kim is focused on creating fresh hop ales with what are known as “wet hops.” Check out the video to meet Kim’s hops hook-up in Lake County. Farmer Marty loves the idea of farm-to-market brewing practices. The proof is in the pint.
Magnolia Brewing Company
It’s hard not to love the authentic ambiance and wonderful tasting beer inside Magnolia Gastropub in SF’s Haight-Ashbury district. Lead man Dave McLean loves the Grateful Dead and loves his beer and he is certainly beloved in the Bay Area. Recently, McLean underwent the project of building a brand new 30 barrel brewhouse in the Dogpatch District inside an old can factory. You can also eat at the new brewhouse, the restaurant is called Smokestack and serves up delicious BBQ.
Moonlight Brewing
Brian Hunt, the creator of Moonlight Brewing, isn’t afraid to be eccentric, nor is he afraid to create a beer that not everyone will like. His goal is to appeal to a small, discerning audience, but those who taste his beers often fall in love with them. One of the ways Hunt is progressing the industry is with his beer titled Working For Tips, which actually has no hops in it. “The beer industry chose him,” Hunt explains. “Beer is poetic.”
Speakeasy Ales & Lagers
The head honcho of Speakeasy Ales & Lagers goes by the name Forest Gray. Before he opened up what is now a wildly successful beer company, he was simply a scientist with a home brew kit. Since 1997, Speakeasy has consistently grown and is now not only all over SF, but it can be found across the nation too. Here, Forest discusses his limited edition Scarlett Red Rye Ale and the staff shows off “The Cadillac of filtration systems.”
Rich Higgins and Beer Lab SF
You would be hard pressed to find a man in the Bay Area who appreciates the process and the product of craft brew more than Rich Higgins. You also have to hand it to a guy who is trying to make “Craft Beer Consultant” his full-time gig. In this video, Higgins hangs with the good people of Brew Lab SF, where ideas are shared and the blueprints for future beers are drawn.
Pacific Brewing Laboratory and Seven Stills of SF
In case you weren’t already privy to this fact, part of the process of creating whiskey is the act of distilling beer. Traditionally speaking, the beer used to distill into whiskey is usually of low quality. Not anymore. Tim Obert and Clint Potter of Seven Stills in San Francisco are changing the game by using craft beer to distill it into whiskey. In the clip below, take a ride on the “Whiskey Train” and meet Bryan Hermannsson, the creator of Pacific Brewing Laboratory. Learn how Seven Stills is using Pac Brew Lab beer to create a world class whiskey you can’t find anywhere else in the world.
If you’ve noticed some cool/new craft brews around the bay that you particularly enjoy, let us know in the comments below. Cheers!
A Look Back at the Baltimore-Oakland Freddie Gray Demonstrations
/Regardless of your opinion of these photos, we believe they should be seen and thought about, as there is no denying how real they are. These images were captured on the streets of Baltimore and Oakland by Mercury news photographers Jim Watson, Patrick Semansky, Alex Brandon, Alex Wong, Dan Honda, and Drew Angerer during the days following the death of Freddie Gray.
E-40's Golden State Warriors Playoff Anthem (Lyrics)
/Did it happen in one day? (nope)
Came a long way (yup)
Never know what kind of angle (nope)
Crossover break your ankle (yup)
Sloppy with the rock? (nope)
Steph Curry with the shot (yup)
Suckas? (nope)
Splash Brothers (yup)
Ain’t no stoppin’ (nope)
Klay Thompson (yup)
Under pressure is he choking? (nope)
Do it big like Bogut (yup)
Never let ‘em tell us that we can’t (nope)
Go hard like Barnes in the paint (yup)
Never ever slowin’ up the pace (nope)
Shoot a 3-pointer in this face (yup)
Everybody say, “Warriors, Warrrrrrrriooooooooorssssss!”
Everybody say, “Warriors, Warrrrrrrriooooooooorssssss!”
Everybody say, “Warriors, Warrrrrrrriooooooooorssssss!”
Everybody say, “Warriors, Warrrrrrrriooooooooorssssss!”
These haters is hatin’ I already know but we never gone choke
Do we panic do we flinch? (nope)
Come hard off the bench (yup)
Horrible? (nope)
Turnt up in the Oracle? (yup)
Can’t beat Steve Kerr (nope)
I’m a Warrior like a blur (yup)
Got something to say? (nope)
Fool this The Bay (yup)
Coward? (nope)
Hustle like Iguodala (yup)
Do we ever play weak? (nope)
Finessing like David Lee (yup)
Ain’t nobody better than my team (nope)
Money like Draymond Green (yup)
Ain’t nobody finna crush our dream (nope)
Won’t stop ‘till we get a ring (yup)
Everybody say, “Warriors, Warrrrrrrriooooooooorssssss!”
Everybody say, “Warriors, Warrrrrrrriooooooooorssssss!”
Everybody say, “Warriors, Warrrrrrrriooooooooorssssss!”
Everybody say, “Warriors, Warrrrrrrriooooooooorssssss!”
These haters is hatin’ I already know but we never gone choke
Section 925 Podcast Episode 50 - Comedian Mike E. Winfield
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Comedian @mikeewinfield sits down with @tripperino in the remote podcenter to talk about opening for Chappelle, working on "The Office," pitching "Step Man" to the networks, and coaching East Sacramento Little League.
Listen here: http://section925blog.podomatic.com/entry/2015-03-06T11_04_14-08_00
Section 925 Podcast Episode 51 - Bachelor Fantasy Suite
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Josh (@jphunsucker), Kelly (@kellyliz1321), and Becky (@beckydiel) mercifully recap the Bachelor finale, discuss whether you can be self-aware and win the Bachelor, complain about the direction of the franchise, stump for Ashley S. to become the Bachelorette, and determine how many years the Bachelor franchise set back feminism by having two Bachelorettes.
Check it out here: http://section925blog.podomatic.com/entry/2015-03-10T21_48_30-07_00
Or on iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/section925-podcenter/id554906376?mt=2&uo=4
Section 925 Podcast Episode 48 - Bachelor Fantasy Suite Podcast
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Josh (@jphunsucker), Kelly (@kellyliz1321), and Becky (@beckydiel - SHE'S ON TWITTER!!) hand out roses and thorns, break down all of the epic dates, eulogize Sanderson Poe's eulogist Kelsey aka the Guidance Counselor from Austin, Texas, and make guaranteed and bold predictions for next weeks doubleheader episode.
Check it out here: http://section925blog.podomatic.com/entry/2015-02-10T00_53_06-08_00
Or on iTunes.
Section 925 Podcast Episode 46 - Bachelor Fantasy Suite Podcast
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Josh (@jphunsucker), Kelly (@Kellyliz1321), and Becky (@Becky_Diel - Instagram) hand out roses and thorns, discuss important things like love gurus, weigh in on whether Britt and Kelsey are full of it, and update their fantasy suite predictions.
Check it out here : http://section925blog.podomatic.com/entry/2015-02-02T23_22_57-08_00
Or on iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/section-925s-podcast/id554906376?mt=2&uo=4
Section 925 Podcast Episode 43 - Bachelor Fantasy Suite Podcast
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Josh (@jphunsucker), Kelly (@KellyLiz1321), and Becky (@Becky_Diel on Instagram) are once again in the Section 925 fantasy suite. They hand out roses and thorns, discuss Jade's breakout performance/covered up tattoo, provide examples of interpersonal skills for bachelor contestants, give Ashley I. a new name, bid farewell to Ashley S., and give their fantasy suite picks.
Check it out here: http://section925blog.podomatic.com/entry/2015-01-26T23_38_46-08_00
or Search Section 925 on iTunes.
Section 925 Podcast Episode 42 - The Bachelor Fantasy Suite
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Josh (@jphunsucker), Kelly (@KellyLiz1321), and Becky (@Becky_Diel on Instagram) forgo their individual couches and stay together in the in the Section 925 fantasy suite. They discuss who won and who lost this weeks episode by handing out roses and thorns, explain why Jimmy Kimmel is the pinnacle of corporate synergy, debunk what a Costco trip is really like, investigate why Bachelor Chris "can't talk good," praise self aware non-kissing, rule on whether the "Amazing Jar" is filled with contestant money, answer a text question from @TheRealReno about censorship, and entertain other uber important worldly topics.
Click to listen: http://section925blog.podomatic.com/entry/2015-01-20T00_39_06-08_00
(or search "Section 925" on iTunes)
Section 925 Podcast Episode 40 - The Bachelor Fantasy Suite Pod Talks All Things Bachelor
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Josh (@jphunsucker) takes Kelly (@KellyLiz1321) and Becky (@Becky_Diel) into the Section 925 fantasy suite to talk all things Bachelor. Is Britt a Hollywood plant or genuine Bachelor contestant? Did Mylie Cyrus and Kelly Kapowski have a baby named Britt 20-something years ago? What are the girls names again? Why does Chris skip leg day at the gym. Can you have a deep-V "zip-up-the-middle” hooded sweatshirt? Why does the Bachelor insist on being so incestuous? Why is Ashley S so hated/loved and is she on or off medication. Plus more answers to questions that don’t matter.
Click to listen... http://section925blog.podomatic.com/entry/2015-01-13T08_27_46-08_00
"Thank You Master Sergeant Keys" - A Bay Area Mother Reflects on Her Son's Return From Afghanistan
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Thank you, Master Sergeant Keys. I made a deal with you and you upheld your end of the bargain. I hope I did as well.
Last December, I got the call from my son that he was heading to Afghanistan within six weeks. Our family rallied and within a few hours all of us had plane reservations from Chicago, Portland and San Francisco bound for Raleigh at Christmas. We plan well, we travel light. Ten days later my husband and I flew from San Francisco to Raleigh with a connection in Texas, and that’s when I met you.
When your body inside a flag-draped military casket was boarded into the belly of our aircraft at the Dallas-FortWorth airport, we stood at the airport window and watched. I secretly cursed the gods and the Universe that they would present such folly to a mother about to say good-bye to her son going off to war. We were informed by the gate attendant that after years of military service, you were on your final journey home. She asked us to remain silent until the entire ritual had ended, and we did. Along with all the other travelers headed to Raleigh, I watched the honor guard salute your casket, then lift it onto the conveyor belt as it slowly made its journey into the hold. Little boys, dressed in their winter coats and mittens, saluted you. Mothers wept. One man leaned his forehead against the window and his tears fell onto the metal floor. The entire gate area was quiet. Even shrill sounds of footsteps from passersby didn’t interrupt the respectful silence.
That’s when I made a deal with you. If I rode on that plane of yours and held your spirit safely, then I was going to hold you responsible for watching over my boy going off to war. It wasn’t a fair trade, I know, but little in life is. And it seemed like you were up for it. Otherwise, the Universe wouldn’t have played such a twisted coincidence card.
My work took a lot less time, but I tell you, it exhausted me. It was only a three hour ride but I concentrated the entire time on your final ride home. I held my palms upward as if to capture whatever spirit or energy of yours might land around me. I ignored the flight attendant’s offer of drinks. I kept my feet planted on the floor and focused on you. I wanted you to know I was there, with you, the whole way home. I wanted your family to know someone was keeping watch and holding the light on your last journey. So I breathed, closed my eyes for much of the ride, prayed and meditated. I kept thoughts of you and your intentions in and around me.
You served two tours in Iraq. The picture on your obituary shows a man wearing a beret. As a little girl I remember a song during the Vietnam war about America’s best wearing the Green Beret. Only last week did I find out you were one. You served long and well, you won medals and you were killed in a free-fall training accident in Arizona. I didn’t know your history then, when I made our deal, but I felt complete faith in you, which is close to what most religions try to teach.
Nineteen minutes ago I received a text from my boy that he had just landed on home soil. His tour is over, he is out of Afghanistan, he is back home. He begins “debriefing” for the next few weeks, which is then followed by R&R.
And I am breathing again. My breath is tingling into parts of my torso I haven’t felt for a long time. When we’re in worry we probably never fully breathe. For the last eleven months I’ve been holding my breath but now, thanks to you, Master Sergeant Keys, my boy is home. That plane ride of ours when I was breathing and holding the space for you on your final journey? I can feel that breath again. I thank you not only with all my heart, but with all the breath that flows. I’ll write your momma and let her know. She lost her heart last December, and mine just burst.
(From the blog, "Emma Tedsen" http://emmatedsen.wordpress.com/)
