tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1666685975575575782024-03-19T02:48:16.678-06:00Team Velveeta™<p>This blog <strong>was</strong> about the adventures of a mediocre athlete who tries to do the best he can. Welp, I don't call myself an athlete any more. My life changed. I know identify as a goatherd</p><p>Think I'm gonna try to start writing again, but at least it's up for the sake of history.</p>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.comBlogger302125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-91352421977767233822023-11-06T09:25:00.005-07:002023-11-14T11:48:24.446-07:00Blue Skies and Tailwinds<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AoxoOrfmDKp7cZ-yahDC8m5QG5SM8hmbInlKnHznftXd-Cx4ZXmixayoz8Z0Nd1D3V1WNACtqIpAB9YMILK1gON4_AoIGcmWXW00eB8csETyO0jW8vRh5aihMgRN8RLnxBaTNk9RNgrL3E0lMhnRWdFiPR5TUaF6HaSW1c0E0pB2Hr00fl3lyMst6k2S/s4032/2023-10-22%2014.22.13.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2442" data-original-width="4032" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AoxoOrfmDKp7cZ-yahDC8m5QG5SM8hmbInlKnHznftXd-Cx4ZXmixayoz8Z0Nd1D3V1WNACtqIpAB9YMILK1gON4_AoIGcmWXW00eB8csETyO0jW8vRh5aihMgRN8RLnxBaTNk9RNgrL3E0lMhnRWdFiPR5TUaF6HaSW1c0E0pB2Hr00fl3lyMst6k2S/w640-h388/2023-10-22%2014.22.13.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>All is well. Changes have been falling steadily this fall. New season, inbound and outbound farm animals, and overall smooth sailing have been the flavor of the season for me and my crew.</p><p>Sometime earlier this calendar year my vision for my place and my animals gelled. Goat dairy based on Alpine Goats. No more moo cows. No more meat goats. Careful management of male goat offspring. Better physical resources for goats. Early on I was planning to build a new building, then realized I had a building already but it was being wasted storing junk. </p><p>In October changes in population happened. In the middle of October I drove to Silt, CO to buy two registered Alpine nannies. Same age as Marilyn the Alpine I have from the stock sale in Fowler. I bottle fed Marilyn so she is sweet and easy to manage. The two new girls, Polly and Greta are possibly even sweeter. Tina who I bought them from runs a very mellow dairy operation.</p><p>I had three Boar nannies, but took them to Fowler October 28 and sold them back to where I bought them. I made a little money, probably almost enough to pay the gas for two round trips to Fowler. But they were wild. Wild goats are a pain in my ass. They are impossible to manage. And Boars are meat goats. You can milk them, but they were not part of my vision. And now I have two bottle fed babies and these new Alpines who are perfectly behaved.</p><p>Finally, the day for freezer camp for my steers arrived. I borrowed my neighbor's ancient trailer, made of lead and iron, and loaded up the boys. Chuck went right in after the morning grain I put in there for the purpose of chowing down like every other morning. Brisket the Angus wasn't freaked out, but was hesitant to step in. I texted Andrea and she came over. Three minutes later he was on the trailer.</p><p>My Tacoma hauled it surprisingly well. It's rated for around 5500 lbs towing capacity, but we had to be well over halfway there. The cows were at least close to a ton. The trailer was at least a ton. On CR 1A there is one grade that's pretty serious. It's less than a mile long, but it was a slow pull for me. But it's all done, the truck didn't explode, the drive was made, the trailer was returned and the boys were dropped off.</p><p>It was a little emotional. It was nothing like losing a dog or cat, but bittersweet. That they were so trusting was helpful but also made me feel like I was disloyal. I didn't want to have to drive them nearly an hour on account of their stress, but surprisingly it didn't seem to bother them. I pulled the trailer into the drop off at the processor and coaxed them out. They didn't seem frightened. Maybe a little relieved to be off the trailer, but not freaking out or anything. Which was good.</p><p>I went home and constantly checked for them in the pasture for a couple days. I have 5 of my neighbor's steers here and they were all together before Chuck and Brisket left. For a couple days I'd see one walk up to the water tank and check to see if he was one of mine, then remember. </p><p>Last week I put together a spreadsheet of people who want to buy the meat and posted a notice to Facebook. Nikki who manages the Ark-Valley Humane Society for which I sit on the Board of Directors reached out, interested in a quarter since her husband's hunt had come up empty. I had been thinking of giving close friends a brother-in-law deal, but then I considered the staff at the shelter. They are like my children. I offered them a crazy-low price. So Nikki is taking one and there's another one and a half going to staff. That makes me feel great.</p><p>I'm keeping a quarter, one of Chuck's. He was a dairy calf, and it was visually obvious that he was an inferior beef cow compared to Brisket the Angus. His other quarters are going to the shelter staff. The Angus is going to friends and acquaintances. I intend to drive up to Westcliffe when they are ready and then go deliver quarters. Hopefully only 1 quarter will ever see my freezer.</p><p>It's all a relief. Pieces of the vision are falling into place. I now have a small herd of very manageable goats. This winter I won't have to witness my boys' suffering in the cold and enduring long dark nights. I won't have to constantly worry about their water freezing, and/or that I adequately drained the hoses. I can finish my barn insulating early this week if I get off my ass and do it. Then on nice days I'll work on sealing the outside of my house so the wind doesn't go right through it.</p><p>My firewood kicks ass. I've had 8 or 10 fires so far, and it's a remarkable difference compared to the Cottonwood I burned exclusively last year. It lasts. I can get it going and load the firebox with fuel and it doesn't need to be fussed with for over an hour. Almost no ash. Pleasant aroma.</p><p>It's all good. At least for now, it's all good.</p><p><br /></p>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-27575721542702012452023-09-30T21:16:00.011-06:002023-10-01T09:19:32.300-06:00My Dad<p><br />My dad died this morning.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1RCXZjmnKt1St_TJKGAs9_pU4ioUEbdkOWw1CUNWnKZS_oUWNWEylN5UzQ4tx5WmFHptc4Xc74csHyi_ANIGTlUujGK9zhIrI4AG18CVhW0ZPvpdZsFWgRpRbLB728qgMe4fCE6yxRHafE4Nhtf6K8xuYob25JY6sCT3gHr8VYjwpa4u8QEBI9SsqnGb/s4032/dadInHisPrime.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1RCXZjmnKt1St_TJKGAs9_pU4ioUEbdkOWw1CUNWnKZS_oUWNWEylN5UzQ4tx5WmFHptc4Xc74csHyi_ANIGTlUujGK9zhIrI4AG18CVhW0ZPvpdZsFWgRpRbLB728qgMe4fCE6yxRHafE4Nhtf6K8xuYob25JY6sCT3gHr8VYjwpa4u8QEBI9SsqnGb/s320/dadInHisPrime.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><br /></p>
Dr. George Purvis was born March 30, 1933 at home in an uninsulated
farmhouse in rural Bent County Colorado. This part of Colorado along
with parts of Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and New Mexico were part of
the Dust Bowl of the Great Depression.<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
He lost his father, Francis a week before his 9th birthday. He and
his younger brother Dave were raised by their mother Delma and relatives.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
He went to Colorado A&M in Fall of 1950 to play football and
avoid the army. The Korean War was raging and sending home dead or
badly damaged soldiers. He actually wanted to join the army when he
graduated from high school but was only 17 and his mother wouldn't
sign the papers.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
After he graduated from college with a degree in Agriculture he was
drafted and went to the army. He complained about it, but also
described a life with two buddies both called Ray that was pretty
awesome.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
He met my mother and they were married within 3 months, in September
of '59. They had two girls while he went to grad school at what had
become CSU. He left with a Masters Degree in Food Science. And two
daughters, Amy (1960) and Beth (1962).</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
He entered a PhD program at Ohio State but became disillusioned with
the position and found a job at Gerber Products Company in Fremont,
Michigan. While working there in 1964 I came along. My sister Meg
came in 1966 and they called it a wrap.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
Gerber wound up sending him to Michigan State University where he got
a PhD in Infant Nutrition. His career was stellar. He eventually
became a Corporate Vice President and the Director of Research.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
He left Gerber to form a consultancy (just him) and he worked for a
couple foreign governments and the US Agency for International
Development.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
During his life he traveled the world. He had a marriage that lasted
until my mother died in November of 2021. He never lost his
facilities and he never had to go to a nursing home. His life was a
success by all measures.</p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">Rest In Peace Dad</p>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-88401411479418005942023-09-15T08:41:00.006-06:002023-09-15T08:47:04.772-06:00A Red Fork<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUgDsvZUWda4jkyVSGE-kUooDU4GsmezSDYUGAQ96ChoAa9KtPcrk5pJvGTTZNy0DgkmL7sgF0DsjkvGsl8cDdjsdLimAfcpEktMqVN0amFPbMtBZq38VKBkaEcssSORl3XYrt5TrthAp-3oZQJFSErvYRG9pY0C5eiH2XokKrJFG4_cvCTAsJjpCnn8y/s4032/2023-09-14%2018.29.40.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUgDsvZUWda4jkyVSGE-kUooDU4GsmezSDYUGAQ96ChoAa9KtPcrk5pJvGTTZNy0DgkmL7sgF0DsjkvGsl8cDdjsdLimAfcpEktMqVN0amFPbMtBZq38VKBkaEcssSORl3XYrt5TrthAp-3oZQJFSErvYRG9pY0C5eiH2XokKrJFG4_cvCTAsJjpCnn8y/w640-h480/2023-09-14%2018.29.40.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Aight, shit's getting real with this little scooter. Getting parts is a bit of a bitch with these guys. I was trying to find heavier coil springs for the crappy stock rear shock and was striking out, so I decided to take the gold-plated option and order one of the killer EXT rear shocks endorsed highly by fullfacekenny of the <a href="https://www.justridingalongshow.com/" target="_blank">Just Riding Along</a> show, a podcast published by friends of mine. The good people at EXT put on the weight of coil you want and tune it based on your weight and riding intentions.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Was the shock cheap? No it was not. But it arrived promptly after I ordered it and I'm sure it's going to be badass.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNP7N0dpOU7KuxHIu84Pt62xZbFdsJZhgExlkHmdp27ZmSBTPTjnRydbXHKRWj45DrneG82KPlM_gqVsoG_HxrhP9oJNl1c1fQ6_6RyIzTnSDoxJPwXUnc1s8T4ewuaW-9EDfof_vZmXML6WC9x1XHm2VtI5lFLrGs9vIWUduHBqG-sa3OzF7J6-5PYJPw/s4032/2023-09-13%2011.44.50.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNP7N0dpOU7KuxHIu84Pt62xZbFdsJZhgExlkHmdp27ZmSBTPTjnRydbXHKRWj45DrneG82KPlM_gqVsoG_HxrhP9oJNl1c1fQ6_6RyIzTnSDoxJPwXUnc1s8T4ewuaW-9EDfof_vZmXML6WC9x1XHm2VtI5lFLrGs9vIWUduHBqG-sa3OzF7J6-5PYJPw/w480-h640/2023-09-13%2011.44.50.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My rear wheel shipped from eastern Canada. A very simple headset part was almost impossible to find. So that basically ate the end of most of August and first two weeks of July. Now I'm pretty much complete other than stuff I can get locally.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>I have to dish the rear wheel and spent an extra hour while in Canon City yesterday to acquire a motorcycle spoke wrench. With that enticingly knobby rear tire dragging on the chain, until that's done it's un-rideable.<p></p><p>But damn, I'm excited. My buddy Matt (also on the JRA podcast) came over last night to set the headset and install the fork. I've had this thing for 6 or 7 weeks, and now it's close to being ready for the purpose it was purchased for. Which is getting my lazy body way up into the aspens on singletrack.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgah2qosTk3RFyuepqIovMhmRKdnYyjtVRnL-MIm4twA31HVn6r1cMBTtzzRhLX-RaR744xK9VBE_QB2iqnP3ALoHWeslm2O2e-xYjasdvoIc0TrhcJf4Z6ut8sLfSND7MdYcxLmQSXQgOcP8Lr0zOYtecvfCXeiKqFFvuRWXMrI1bghcDIMbEF2sp_ToDF/s4032/2023-09-14%2018.29.28.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgah2qosTk3RFyuepqIovMhmRKdnYyjtVRnL-MIm4twA31HVn6r1cMBTtzzRhLX-RaR744xK9VBE_QB2iqnP3ALoHWeslm2O2e-xYjasdvoIc0TrhcJf4Z6ut8sLfSND7MdYcxLmQSXQgOcP8Lr0zOYtecvfCXeiKqFFvuRWXMrI1bghcDIMbEF2sp_ToDF/w640-h480/2023-09-14%2018.29.28.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-69849150343232250292023-08-22T15:41:00.000-06:002023-08-22T15:41:10.687-06:00Toy Update<p> Here it is, a full 30 days since I announced my toy. Well it came! And I put it together! It wasn't too exciting at first. Not too powerful, not too fast. Then after googling all over the interwebs I found a video that showed a combination of button presses. Hurray! I did that all day right after it was built. There was also a vid that showed cutting a wire up inside the beast. Huh?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1FI0pFzX_rlGbCeRuLL2bnSA0GG2BYSutuqDi11e2RofypvP7-0TO_nvKmr43MzxsWtTbvR69RD7JO3qRV6vTHR6E_CL_iCvngSnxNoDY3laOIYQU_Nj-ZoQiAajqMbd0UhT7Dk4l2zZcWzsCI3R29m6kDTtWzqkggMC7bK3bq268xnQm-X-ZGPUyHDb9/s4032/2023-08-22%2014.21.53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1FI0pFzX_rlGbCeRuLL2bnSA0GG2BYSutuqDi11e2RofypvP7-0TO_nvKmr43MzxsWtTbvR69RD7JO3qRV6vTHR6E_CL_iCvngSnxNoDY3laOIYQU_Nj-ZoQiAajqMbd0UhT7Dk4l2zZcWzsCI3R29m6kDTtWzqkggMC7bK3bq268xnQm-X-ZGPUyHDb9/w640-h480/2023-08-22%2014.21.53.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>Couldn't be right. But then a support question I'd sent to the outfit I bought if from was answered. "You need to cut the wire" it said. Huh, go figger.</p><p>Cutting the wire changed the whole world. This thing rips. </p><p>Bad news is that it needs a ton of upgrades. I've gotten started, but it moves slowly because it's hard to find what you need. So far it's stock except for pedals being lowered using a kit that was surprisingly not cheap. I have a 21" front wheel like a real moto. Also a tire and tube, which I mounted using my remedial skills. And I pinched the tube. So I ordered a Baja No Pinch Tire Tool (look it up). Should be here this week. My very good friend Matt got me hooked up with a bro deal on a prior model year brand new Rock Shox Boxxer DH fork. Boom!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYoKFVH2Q1NFjEydiem70vGzNUjcxAPsEoArZzxNoF9dA-xRzTkBbYidPQAp4F9chGePNa2Z4ZmczU3HhYNPZBx8Kqv1FfmpNhTI7uv6z0xaOl1V7JV9CLnWox7cVHbay_mQdWUq-vzM3T2msfmk42cUHqkoB9rT5k-jdvpyQz6goHfWe5fHO9ODchyYY/s4032/2023-08-22%2011.29.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYoKFVH2Q1NFjEydiem70vGzNUjcxAPsEoArZzxNoF9dA-xRzTkBbYidPQAp4F9chGePNa2Z4ZmczU3HhYNPZBx8Kqv1FfmpNhTI7uv6z0xaOl1V7JV9CLnWox7cVHbay_mQdWUq-vzM3T2msfmk42cUHqkoB9rT5k-jdvpyQz6goHfWe5fHO9ODchyYY/w480-h640/2023-08-22%2011.29.23.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p>As it is stock it's tiny. One of the reasons I didn't post a follow-up after it got here was that I made the dreadful mistake of trying to do some challenging stuff. As soon as the wire was cut I was rarin' to go. Long story short, I crashed. Three times. Creek crossing 1, whisky throttle and down in the creek. Rocky barrier, whisky throttle and down. Creek crossing 2, you can guess.</p><p>The stock position is cramped. Like an old school YZ80. And I hadn't gotten familiar with the throttle, which is on the touchy side. And it's light and powerful. It weighs half what my Yamaha WR250R weighs. And it has basically a mountain bike wheelbase.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY_aRarAWw4ctoKK4J1opELtUSQtvZpY11Zxz3wpVxLXbSNLWWIH2GFaeNDIH1ExFFTKNNP4QLW_RywbRw_UE4x7_wy4aQzIqEhIhjQv8Xx73E97HbyfGS4mhsPqEur2sP7V0PAy58WYb5PwIwNQ-vN1RuXvxkwjLdX4HO7UJr0oanx6xBVXNyo8lvZPGo/s4032/2023-08-22%2014.21.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY_aRarAWw4ctoKK4J1opELtUSQtvZpY11Zxz3wpVxLXbSNLWWIH2GFaeNDIH1ExFFTKNNP4QLW_RywbRw_UE4x7_wy4aQzIqEhIhjQv8Xx73E97HbyfGS4mhsPqEur2sP7V0PAy58WYb5PwIwNQ-vN1RuXvxkwjLdX4HO7UJr0oanx6xBVXNyo8lvZPGo/w640-h480/2023-08-22%2014.21.23.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>So it's going to be big fun but it's going to take a minute. By this weekend I will hopefully have the new fork and front wheel. Once I have that I'll get a new handlebar. It's just a mountain bike handlebar so I can just go pick one at Absolute Bikes where I still have store credit.</p><p>What do I still need? A bigger rear shock coil spring. A better rear tire, probably on an 18" rim (stock was 19 front, 19 rear). Maybe better pegs. The stock ones are pretty blunt. But with the 21 up front I may be ready to throw it at some trail.</p>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-60998837368204500792023-07-22T08:24:00.001-06:002023-07-22T08:24:46.803-06:00New Toy on the Way<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvULRm1uoihQVmg6T8lQWdlyPB3AbRJjGDwbhxfkuF0aMLPwo8D9LlcAZbntfzSMiUKVf5RTrJR7q9voOU5G3j1wTwfIB050JnszV8cejmWVympmUKP8ZvamFkbe6t8OTOAgL_kAfNAO7TBaRCfLSz5Vb-1B5n3o77gw_63OOKNx_VKZ5fW-xmw1gZvFh/s729/Talaria.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="463" data-original-width="729" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvULRm1uoihQVmg6T8lQWdlyPB3AbRJjGDwbhxfkuF0aMLPwo8D9LlcAZbntfzSMiUKVf5RTrJR7q9voOU5G3j1wTwfIB050JnszV8cejmWVympmUKP8ZvamFkbe6t8OTOAgL_kAfNAO7TBaRCfLSz5Vb-1B5n3o77gw_63OOKNx_VKZ5fW-xmw1gZvFh/w640-h406/Talaria.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />My life since I moved to the country and got livestock has been pretty boring. Enriching for me, but boring for others. This blog for example; the more of my current state of being and activities I share, the fewer readers. My readers liked reading about how I got caught in a hailstorm at 12,000 feet while on a hopelessly ambitious mountain bike adventure. Firewood, not so much.<p></p><p>By the way, my firewood is a completed project. Yesterday I split the last bit and tarped the enormous pile. Which is neat, but don't go away! That's not what this is about.</p><p>I have been mumbling about doing this for a while and now I've done it. I just ordered a Talaria Sting R MX4. I already have a motorcycle. It's a Yamaha WR250R which looks like a dirt bike, but is really more of an ADV or adventure bike. It's awesome for exploring the vast network of dirt roads in Colorado. But it's heavy and underpowered. And it doesn't have sophisticated suspension like a YZ250 does. I like it, and I'm keeping it, but it's not a singletrack bike. This new sled is going to be a game changer. </p><p>Battery driven electric. It only weighs 145 lbs. My Yamaha is 300. It's lighter than a Yamaha YZ125 2 stroke which weighs 210, and that's about as light as it gets for a gas powered dirt bike. But what's really compelling to me as a rider is that there are no gear selections, no clutch, no constantly monitoring your RPM for power band and appropriate gear selections. Just apply throttle for go, apply brakes for slow.</p><p>Stoke is high. I can get on the Rainbow Trail 3 miles up a county road from my house. Can't wait.</p><p>Maybe having and riding it will make my blog readable again.</p>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-3074067787675802342023-07-17T19:13:00.000-06:002023-07-17T19:13:03.882-06:00A Day in the Woods<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmj3fnV3NvUiNvTUL6Q9Wv8_itGjAGQo6_NrF8yt9ldz95Wfo2gZBEJMmGLbYzNFMOXljwLg-8zECTPDfdsk7KimvcaCQKNsVZ1ib_W9msoy3qWvhIBt9K992J1qU-Sjjg4yai6A_CtHA9enaYpc2eE28iAl_j_lfhZE192KDY4G4EN7HjnZLyqjdZmej/s4032/2023-07-17%2016.49.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmj3fnV3NvUiNvTUL6Q9Wv8_itGjAGQo6_NrF8yt9ldz95Wfo2gZBEJMmGLbYzNFMOXljwLg-8zECTPDfdsk7KimvcaCQKNsVZ1ib_W9msoy3qWvhIBt9K992J1qU-Sjjg4yai6A_CtHA9enaYpc2eE28iAl_j_lfhZE192KDY4G4EN7HjnZLyqjdZmej/w640-h480/2023-07-17%2016.49.28.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> I got another load of wood! It was awesome. In ways.<p></p><p>This place I'm gathering is not Forest Service, it's in a subdivision called Trail West above Buena Vista (which I pronounce "Bee Vee"). The woodcutters have been cutting it to stove length and stacking it. Many of the stumps have been cut down to be able to drive over. But not all of them.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk62vCxmgugoidZwKKEE84EYHeByz_WPpUAf59hSDTmfeGYa2nLtibgiiS0LG4SS6K5LCC87aALb6M04sOzhc_bxrQODZQVyGLqMDuoEyjq5kMfvdo8mEZP4fjlCDr3EO2o80ZPRP7hYRVzFyYLLUjAYa_nwmpVfgOjK5o9AHKDKpfeta7n8CE5zpWVooy/s2236/2023-07-17%2016.49.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1519" data-original-width="2236" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk62vCxmgugoidZwKKEE84EYHeByz_WPpUAf59hSDTmfeGYa2nLtibgiiS0LG4SS6K5LCC87aALb6M04sOzhc_bxrQODZQVyGLqMDuoEyjq5kMfvdo8mEZP4fjlCDr3EO2o80ZPRP7hYRVzFyYLLUjAYa_nwmpVfgOjK5o9AHKDKpfeta7n8CE5zpWVooy/w640-h434/2023-07-17%2016.49.17.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>I got a solid load on the trailer and was ready to exit the premises. I made a bit of a mistake in route planning. A stump, not huge and not really high, presented itself as a problem. I failed to give the stump his due. First he destroyed my trailer jack. I mean, fixable. But not optimal. Then he caused my trailer's axle to stop. Hard stop. I did a little 4-wheel low struggle for control, but it was a fail. The stump was winning.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0DDHq2sQRBYG4h6sd0FzJAHoWnBrH1xvsusZTZXzOZB8mevxWJ46hB3OWqySeQMnRT-dltbR05mm74iYZT7wRQEh4doHsUYbksBdsGbF_KlQpTjYMUhh8d6ySomjO0H6OoVB_Ay-j5F_RGaNaLR29iekcaeEriGpgCKWCLmRxlv5LXYu360JW1_OuUqxE/s4032/2023-07-17%2017.44.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0DDHq2sQRBYG4h6sd0FzJAHoWnBrH1xvsusZTZXzOZB8mevxWJ46hB3OWqySeQMnRT-dltbR05mm74iYZT7wRQEh4doHsUYbksBdsGbF_KlQpTjYMUhh8d6ySomjO0H6OoVB_Ay-j5F_RGaNaLR29iekcaeEriGpgCKWCLmRxlv5LXYu360JW1_OuUqxE/w480-h640/2023-07-17%2017.44.14.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p>So then I decided to wage war on the stump. I produced the only saw I brought (!?), my cordless Milwaukee 16". I had to work on it with the trailer in the way. The stump proved to be an incredibly dense piece of wood. Like a chunk of granite. Sweating and swearing I worked that fucker, then thanks to awkward angles the chain jumped off. I went to get the integrated tool that's used to disassemble the saw and saw that at some point in the past I failed to put it back where it goes. OK. Game over on making the stump pay for its insolence. </p><p>Out came my truck's emergency jack. I jacked up the trailer as far as the jack would go and put a vertical chunk of firewood in place to hold it up. I put a rail of tree wood under the tire on that side. Then I put the jack on the floor of the truck and yanked that fucker out of there.</p><p>Trailer seems fine other than the jack. Like I said, fixable.</p><p>Drove the hour home and parked the rig. As I walked past the truck on the drivers side I saw a stick in the front tire. I pulled it out. Air started to leak out. </p><p>Sad panda.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdVajix_H6QZK3tzYj_gYMsbyi65IsSiP-pPxra-9eOODQV2p4_7COt6limfIEFpYJIC10MtipaNSLibtTO2QxFsIf-qrr3RsWfLsIyOKewwIpl7w6ev3eRkwhvBiUB6Es0wzeAZuPuHX67g5fzdv_LpH0nW6wGevls2TfFefRxk47RlWUhInGUFCsnrWp/s2239/2023-07-17%2018.39.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2239" data-original-width="1882" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdVajix_H6QZK3tzYj_gYMsbyi65IsSiP-pPxra-9eOODQV2p4_7COt6limfIEFpYJIC10MtipaNSLibtTO2QxFsIf-qrr3RsWfLsIyOKewwIpl7w6ev3eRkwhvBiUB6Es0wzeAZuPuHX67g5fzdv_LpH0nW6wGevls2TfFefRxk47RlWUhInGUFCsnrWp/w538-h640/2023-07-17%2018.39.36.jpg" width="538" /></a></div><p>But what I nice load of wood!</p><p>As a wise man once said, "Sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes, the bar eats you."</p>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-79572704408320501252023-07-15T13:02:00.002-06:002023-07-16T08:27:29.837-06:00Heat<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4ZH5ch8kObfpSiV1zT6To6lvIBuRAg5OV00W13UbHvShyLhvzEmjIqTU8ZZToh0FruMVz5JpCPENTwdk2EiiPAQzaQzH0OgXHu_kGnAja92HcSsXM7vPCEZFJPWo0cWhEIJuuPjm2nTz2rr7RctrY8gYzbs_fkqjvhO6okLEWQQ_PDrDAE_mGuh_HECo/s2199/2023-07-15%2011.18.49.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1586" data-original-width="2199" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4ZH5ch8kObfpSiV1zT6To6lvIBuRAg5OV00W13UbHvShyLhvzEmjIqTU8ZZToh0FruMVz5JpCPENTwdk2EiiPAQzaQzH0OgXHu_kGnAja92HcSsXM7vPCEZFJPWo0cWhEIJuuPjm2nTz2rr7RctrY8gYzbs_fkqjvhO6okLEWQQ_PDrDAE_mGuh_HECo/w640-h462/2023-07-15%2011.18.49.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>After a wet May and a mild June, July brought the heat. Not news to any of us really, because it's been on the news. </p><p>So far it's stayed at or below the low 90's here at Casa Cabras Pequeñas, but that's hot as fuck at this elevation if the sun is shining and you are not in shade. The Weather Service is forecasting 99 for Monday. 95 for Tuesday.</p><p>The sun seems so damn powerful right now. It has been increasingly hot from my own perspective, and of course I could be wrong and it's just like it's always been. </p><p>I saw Sheree, my dermatologist recently and she asked me if I wear sunscreen, and I immediately blurted out the truth, "I hate sunscreen." She didn't scold me, but told me to get and wear sun-protective clothing. She said J2, our local tech clothing company was selling some nice ones. I got a hoody and started wearing it when in the sun. I have been working, splitting firewood, fixing fences, etc and I try to start early. But I sweat buckets, especially wearing the sunproof hoodie. I just went the other day and bought another one. As little as I enjoy wearing it I do wear it and having only one means it's always going to be sweaty and nasty.</p><p>The dogs sleep through the middle of these hot days. The moo cows refuse to come out from under a bush that overhangs the ditch. They stand or lay in the ditch in the shade all damn day. My goats amaze me. In the middle of the day they lay in the open sun even though shade is available. Nutty. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="429" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dxcGruySBt8" width="515" youtube-src-id="dxcGruySBt8"></iframe></div><p></p><p>So far this post has been me bitching about the heat. But no, it's going to continue with me bitching about how completely in denial the human race is about climate change. I mean people, New York and Vermont major unprecedented flooding. Mississippi flooding. Canadian wildfires flaring. Fatal heat across the southern part of 'Merica, certainly Mexico though that doesn't make news, and now I hear Europe. Massive losses of Antarctic ice. </p><p>People. It all has to fucking change. Until we can figure out how to make travel carbon neutral, we ALL need to do A LOT less of it. Next winter we need to take Jimmy Carter's advice and put on a fucking sweater. I think we're reaching a tipping point, which is an event or series of events that cause a trend that was moving gradually to begin moving rapidly. </p><p>This is on my mind. Sorry if it's tedious. If you got all the way here, thanks for reading.</p>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-49144100019545157212023-07-01T13:31:00.004-06:002023-07-05T08:16:48.075-06:00Problems for young people to solve. A geezer's perspective.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_koTtsHlcFi0VBjoxpDcDoo7r_JVbhmHHzd1v5sDgEwN7KZI6tHollLAiSdMCt5raDcmLoVcTIE3v-ySZrmhgGP7mJGTTGQBvg9AiGeSvbLKXT3E7wcfHdLqX-hphtzwH-JlqhHlQqME0Cdwc5_GAiXwTLD-IZNCbxZUexQ2MEF7RRhjbGdwVFOVDAbGB/s1497/jeebus.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="459" data-original-width="1497" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_koTtsHlcFi0VBjoxpDcDoo7r_JVbhmHHzd1v5sDgEwN7KZI6tHollLAiSdMCt5raDcmLoVcTIE3v-ySZrmhgGP7mJGTTGQBvg9AiGeSvbLKXT3E7wcfHdLqX-hphtzwH-JlqhHlQqME0Cdwc5_GAiXwTLD-IZNCbxZUexQ2MEF7RRhjbGdwVFOVDAbGB/w640-h196/jeebus.png" width="640" /></a></div><p>There are some big doozy problems in the world nowadays. Global Warming is the likely winner among existential disasters coming down the pike to kill and destroy.</p><p>I know, some readers will with every justification put up an immediate thumbs down about me delving into politics and bummer shit. K. Sorry.</p><p>I wanted to point out some things that the younger generations are going to need to deal with, particularly here in 'Merica. I'm not going to do the obvious and bellyache about climate change and how much nicer it was back when I was a whippersnapper. I choose to bring up some things that should be obvious but obviously are not.</p><h4 style="text-align: left;">The United States Senate</h4><p>A great deal of power resides in the Senate. The Supreme Court nightmare we have right now is a direct result of Senate power being used by ideologues who are not representative of the United States' population.</p><p>The Senate is un-democratic. Every state gets two representatives. California gets 2 and Wyoming gets 2. I lived in Wyoming for four years and married a native (oops). I promise you, it is a FAR simpler place than California with far simpler problems and culture.</p><p>The framers of the Constitution could have never imagined that we'd have a Wyoming and a California. Or a New York and a North Dakota. In their world, it made sense for each sovereign state to have a strong voice in that body. But damn. So many low-population, low-tech, less educated states have an equal say. Which is, for example, why we can't do anything about guns.</p><p>One of two things needs to happen: the structure of that body needs to change to be more representative or the big states need to break themselves up.</p><h4 style="text-align: left;">Driving and flying</h4><p>First-world people and Americans in particular feel very entitled to travel around as much as they can afford to, as if there were no side effect. We drive stupidly big vehicles, we're willing to drive them really far even for just a weekend, and when we go to work we go by ourselves in those big honkin' F350s. </p><p>Air travel is out of control. It's a HUGE consumer of fossil fuels. If you fly in an airplane especially for pleasure more than once every couple years you are having a big impact on the planet, even though nobody really talks about that.</p><p>The freedom to own your own vehicle has been part of first world culture for over 100 years. Generations of us have loved our freedom buggies. I have owned 11 of them, Eleven! I have lots of good memories from tooling around the American West in my various rigs.</p><p>The material, water, and carbon cost of manufacturing internal combustion or electric vehicles is a significant portion of their total lifespan cost. If you buy one new off the lot, depending on how efficient it is the carbon cost for it's full lifetime will already be 30-60% incurred. If it's gas or diesel and you put gas and oil in it and burn that up, and tires, etc. for 10 or 20 years and 80-200 thousand miles, the consumptive output of greenhouse gases will be on the same order of magnitude as what it took to build the damn thing.</p><p>Now we've glommed on to the idea that the electric vehicle is our savior. We'll be able drive anywhere, for any trivial reason whenever we want. Like always. So we all need to sell our dinosaur-juice rigs and get shiny new EVs. We'll scorch earth to provide a new EV for every first world driveway on the whole planet. And all the internal combustion ones will still be on the road until utterly worn out, blowing blue smoke.</p><p>Time to change this paradigm homo sapiens.</p><p>As I say, this is for the new generations to solve. All of it. Fixing the Senate could help us do things like clean up the Supreme Court, who went on their own scorched earth tirade this week. Solving the travel-on-a-whim problem would change the way the whole world works in a way that I think would slow us down and make us more thoughtful. And cleaner. We would focus on being here rather than on going there.</p><p>If we don't do anything radical to turn around our carbon problem, blue death may come from the sky to find us all and end the problem. Floods have already shocked much of the world. And fires. I've seen it change in my 50+ years observing. It's changed. But especially in the last 10 years. It's changing faster now.</p><p>Happy Independence Day!</p>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-84940984723755424382023-06-29T16:55:00.000-06:002023-06-29T16:55:34.327-06:00A little VT125 beta<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWNYjyXCpOZvvNjNEP1c49ndBjdx6FGic1G3NCcOTuscwlszOOMRuMlmaXauPl1n6w5m8QOBGjh1FedUe9uxBLeYReMsUFvhWbHL5i3nwBn-MopaUlfEiB73JDFvL_We_y4gqmJxr6lu46Ho0kOkQYM0ngtzFVyusWkXmCYbSlTqygZkCnBBKC7ZPJ24l/s740/VaporLogo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="740" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWNYjyXCpOZvvNjNEP1c49ndBjdx6FGic1G3NCcOTuscwlszOOMRuMlmaXauPl1n6w5m8QOBGjh1FedUe9uxBLeYReMsUFvhWbHL5i3nwBn-MopaUlfEiB73JDFvL_We_y4gqmJxr6lu46Ho0kOkQYM0ngtzFVyusWkXmCYbSlTqygZkCnBBKC7ZPJ24l/w640-h276/VaporLogo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><h1 style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Vapor Trail 125 Ride Breakdown</h1><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">A little break from what the New & Improved Teamvelveeta blog. Just gonna publish this. I wrote it back when I was still a bike rider and a manager within the vast Vapor Trail 125 organization. So, just because I'm publishing this now doesn't mean I'm not still a fat slob who doesn't ride peddly bikes any more. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">As of the writing of this, for the sake of reference:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Aid 1 was near where the Colorado Trail hits a dirt road, above Chalk Creek.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Aid 2 was Snowblind.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Aid 3 was Monarch Pass.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Aid 4 was Marshall Pass.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Mini Aid 5 at the western terminus of the Rainbow Trail.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Go.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">The </span>course of the Vapor Trail 125<span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"> is pretty well described on the official website (vaportrail125.com), but what's it like to ride it during the event? How far between Aid Stations? Where are the biggest challenges?</span><br style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">This document breaks down the ride from Aid Station to Aid Station, giving a rider some idea what the day will be like.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold;">How I arrived at this description</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">: I sliced up the GPX file I recorded when I rode the course on my own early in August of 2013 and analyzed it with my gps software. I am not fast, my sustainable pace is generally barely fast enough to make the event cut-offs. When I did this I was going with no support, so that cost me some time. I was on a pace that would have gotten me through cut-offs, but not by much. So this is kind of the analysis of a slowest possible finisher pace.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;" /><ol style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><li>Start to Aid Station One. 26.5 miles. Between 4000 and 5000 feet of climbing. Took me a little over 4 1/2 hours moving time. Some pavement climbing, then a dirt road climb that is quite mild, but with an increasing grade. Nearly 3000 feet of climbing. Better be there in two hours or less or you're already looking marginal to finish. Then it's Colorado Trail, a very rugged and technical bit of it.</li><li>Aid One to Aid Two. 33.5 miles. Between 5000 and 6000 feet of climbing. Took me a little under 7 hours. This is a big section. Through the night, coldest temps, most remote part of the course. This is the first and most important real test of the event. <strong>Leave Aid Station #1 ready</strong> for a long, cold, dark ride that you'll remember forever.</li><li>Aid Two to Aid Three. About 2,500 feet of climbing 14 miles. Took me 2:15. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Aid #3 is where you'll have access to your drop bag</span>. This is the Good Morning section. The main feature is the climb to Old Monarch Pass. It'll be getting warm, so you'll have that to get used to. It's a fairly mild climb, but a long one. It's about 2500 feet of gain. Just a little on the tedious side. Wakey wakey!</li><li>Aid Three to Aid Four. 10 1/2 miles. About 1000 feet of climbing. Took me an hour and 40 minutes. Monarch Crest Trail. This is a piece of candy that always seems to go by easily even when exhausted.</li><li>Aid Four looping back to Aid Four. 11 1/2 miles. 2,500 feet of Climbing. Took me 2 1/2 hours. It's a little inner loop, so you visit Aid Four on Marshall Pass twice. This loop is what cracks many of the riders who don't finish. Be prepared for a honkin' big effort from a tired body. This little test is probably the most often-discussed part of the course at the after party.</li><li>Aid Four to mini-Aid Station at the Rainbow TH. 7 3/4 miles. About 800 feet of climbing and then a long descent. Took me about an hour 15 minutes. This is mostly candy. The climbing isn't bad, and it's broken up with lots of nice descending.</li><li>Last mini-Aid Station to Finish. Rainbow Trail then pavement down the highway to Poncha Springs and on a County Road back to town. Around 20 miles, a little over 1,000 feet of climbing. Took me a little over 2 hours.</li></ol><p style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Hamburger.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">So it's 5 aid stations, 6 aid station visits.</p>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-16967135762394874692023-06-24T13:36:00.002-06:002023-06-24T13:48:50.944-06:00Firewood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxbKDE41-7_UU1ucRxL5_afCC44TB05Gfp4ESQqSaC0RqNhtQAg--ru3LKzDPqhT61lJI0ypGW8QND9D8SgOTPAKICd4Iv2_p7CgvEfAC428MWe7XtJ99veE6L8e1wx8ZVKvfeMaOnzWMrKDLNDvHpxfBx2dcL0IRZ1zPaU3ci9ARAYtm8TYTEdzxN3WX/s4032/2023-06-24%2012.34.04.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxbKDE41-7_UU1ucRxL5_afCC44TB05Gfp4ESQqSaC0RqNhtQAg--ru3LKzDPqhT61lJI0ypGW8QND9D8SgOTPAKICd4Iv2_p7CgvEfAC428MWe7XtJ99veE6L8e1wx8ZVKvfeMaOnzWMrKDLNDvHpxfBx2dcL0IRZ1zPaU3ci9ARAYtm8TYTEdzxN3WX/w640-h480/2023-06-24%2012.34.04.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>I burn wood in a stove for heat in the cold months. The economics of wood-burning require that the burner get the fuel for a minimum of cost, in either money or time and effort. It takes effort not only to get the wood but to keep the fire going. At least every 20-30 minutes I have to get up and tend the fire. If the fuel ain't cheap, you might as well turn up the thermostat and sit your wide butt into a chair and pay the power company for the BTUs. </p><p>Buying split, seasoned wood doesn't work unless you get a brother-in-law deal. Normal market price would make me pay over a grand for a winter. Bad juju. You really need to acquire and process it yourself. Find a source of raw wood that is cheap or free, hopefully that's been limbed and gathered. </p><p>For last winter's burning season I had primarily cottonwood that I salvaged from down by the creek. </p><p>Back in July of 2016 the Hayden Pass Fire burned a very large percentage of the Big Cottonwood Creek drainage. In places it was a very hot fire, burning even the dirt. My place was far from the burn, and firefighters kept it away from all the houses even the ones 3 miles west toward the fire. But in July 2018 the creek flash flooded.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="381" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Xc9ARv7nEO8" width="458" youtube-src-id="Xc9ARv7nEO8"></iframe></div><p>My creek, which is half a mile from where it dumps into the Arkansas River, is one that you could almost jump across at lowest water. Never any more than knee deep. But it was more than knee deep that day.</p><p>It devastated the stream bed and vegetation along the way. Root systems of trees, primarily cottonwood and willow, were torn up. All of this happened almost 4 years before I ever owned the place, so it was not an injury to me. However, cleaning up down there has been a very large consumer of my time.</p><p>Probably 20 or more years ago a tree house was constructed between a cluster of cottonwoods on my place maybe 20 yards from the creek. The floor was like 20 feet off the ground. The trees were all dead, from the flood or the copious hardware that had been driven into them to hang the little shed. It was a hazard and an eyesore. I was trying to figure out how to get it down with killing myself.</p><p>Then early in 2022 the wind took care of the problem for me. It fell and became gravitationally safe. But it was a huge pile of debris. In April of 22 I broke my right fibula and mangled my ankle by yet again using poor judgement with my motorcycle. So the logs and debris laid there for much of the year.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh17Z5L_JbACW_98TcQxdfTkXQkYo7IlWiCJk2_KdFlbIXrf15HudodwyfGxRmPPuHQ4sr7N0HvlEOtAlFIrAA_vYpGZ_kS3KQ17J11EdZCp_7T8dKKJM_7HZlE1g72j3SGXGvaOEFZ6AJhN2Lu-zM-4B2Y0xD65gm_4Cv4GOI4e_V1bb6aF5qg0UOP3PHk/s4032/2021-08-25%2011.54.34.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh17Z5L_JbACW_98TcQxdfTkXQkYo7IlWiCJk2_KdFlbIXrf15HudodwyfGxRmPPuHQ4sr7N0HvlEOtAlFIrAA_vYpGZ_kS3KQ17J11EdZCp_7T8dKKJM_7HZlE1g72j3SGXGvaOEFZ6AJhN2Lu-zM-4B2Y0xD65gm_4Cv4GOI4e_V1bb6aF5qg0UOP3PHk/w480-h640/2021-08-25%2011.54.34.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">The Tree House</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">'How does all this relate to firewood sir?' the curious reader might ask. Well I'll tell you. There was lots of crappy old lumber, sheet metal, windows that shed broken glass all over and hardware like lag bolts. But there was also about 6 cords of cottonwood logs. In addition to the trees that were holding up the tree house there were two others I felled and one huge one that came down on its own.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I blocked it and hauled out what I could that way. Some of the blocks were too heavy for me to lift into the truck so I took a splitter down there and split and hauled them. There are a number of them still down there that I can't even lift onto the splitter myself. Remember, the economics are thin on this deal. If I get a hernia and need surgery that's going to blow the whole thing up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As firewood, cottonwood kind of sucks. It burns hot, and it's a very clean wood with little sap. But it generates a lot of ash. And it's kind of stinky. On a really cold day when the fire is burning from pre-dawn through evening the coals pile up. They are very durable. I've almost needed to go get the steel bucket and a shovel to take them outside so I have room for fuel in the firebox.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This year I have a good strategy and I'm starting early. First, I met a guy who runs a fire mitigation crew. He works with property owners to thin their woods to help with wildfire. He called me once and I went to his site that day with my trailer and came back with about a cord of mixed ponderosa, juniper, and piñon. It's green for the most part, but I processed it right away and put it under a tarp. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Also I bought 3 cords worth of fuel gathering permits from the Forest Service for $10 each. That's to be a good guy, and in the rare case that anyone from Forest is even at the gathering site to check your permit. If I want I could easily take 10 cords. But 3 is a lot. That's about what I burn in a while winter. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I brought home a load of mostly aspen last week. Aspen is very good, but not my top favorite. That is juniper, followed by high country fir and spruce that have been standing dead for a while. I've been processing it off the trailer for a couple hours in the morning before it gets too hot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's hard work. But I'm trading my labor directly for BTUs rather than paying a public utility to burn fossil fuel on my behalf. Now that I've given up on participation in society and I've stopped mountain biking, I need to put my labor somewhere and break a damn sweat once in a while anyway.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-55655163873521469742023-06-13T09:44:00.004-06:002023-06-13T13:03:30.545-06:00Fred<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiinHWsJnBuAWt2zVbPOMzxOQdxnIhk0IwmXgHT_x6VksGixWf2mml7S-16rt1_WKLlsCDj3HABCAekXG1jwkksJG3HkkBpOWk1eFVSKZ-oS0UdU5ZR5O2nOnKFZOcQnKJCUEY0MeM_aXJLQ0XJ5KeKvHaZnk7BdC-5fYhRFfrkEd0C6bhz9c6F3enLPg/s2373/2023-05-18%2016.56.31.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1620" data-original-width="2373" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiinHWsJnBuAWt2zVbPOMzxOQdxnIhk0IwmXgHT_x6VksGixWf2mml7S-16rt1_WKLlsCDj3HABCAekXG1jwkksJG3HkkBpOWk1eFVSKZ-oS0UdU5ZR5O2nOnKFZOcQnKJCUEY0MeM_aXJLQ0XJ5KeKvHaZnk7BdC-5fYhRFfrkEd0C6bhz9c6F3enLPg/w640-h436/2023-05-18%2016.56.31.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Fred came to live with Vicki and I (and cats, goats, steers) in January of 2022. In the last post, I described his genetics, but specifically he's half Great Pyrenes, 23.3% Australian Shepherd, 17.3% Border Collie, 9.4% Miniature/MAS-type Australian Shepherd.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He's probably around 100 lbs and strong. He has forced adaptations one after another. He was probably a little over a year old, maybe 15-16 months when I got him. On day one he got my butter from the counter. Adaptation #1, butter goes up into the cabinet. If it's on the counter, it's probably going to be his.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then there was extensive poop eating. Then there was the car chasing. Every time he encountered a new kind of livestock he would try to play with it and then bark at it when that didn't happen. My neighbors have horses, pigs, sheep, and chickens. They have a beautiful pair of Pyrenes sisters as guard dogs for the sheep. Every one of them has been barked at extensively. Luckily my neighbors on both sides are very patient. And Fred doesn't chase. When he first got here he barked at my steers. He barked at my goats when they came along. </div><div><p></p><p>Ever since the morning when he chased off the lion, his urge to be protector has surged. </p><p>The day before yesterday I needed to go into Salida for some things. When I got home he'd tried to dig his way out above the dog door. I hadn't finished up the job, and you could see daylight through a small gap. He opened up a hole in drywall that was 18 inches wide and close to 10 inches tall. Big mess, but also a sign of change. In the 18 months he's been here, he's been locked into the house when I leave because he'll try to follow me otherwise. Now he's lost his tolerance for that.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pmFX8bJ6Ohu14Tyb0qHs8uGu1mAli9F2cmLqRsUBkD1Aju52UYtRmPWlx03BV-B4QKesOLSI81coxnwebRVICbowbvxwCB-SDFqz_TYzuxXs00o3P3lERs9G-tu6vyIeyevToh1qnAJbzaECx3E5NoChlBWr-4PisoIMlhquP_MFkm0U5X4zwrqbyg/s4032/2023-06-12%2012.54.54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pmFX8bJ6Ohu14Tyb0qHs8uGu1mAli9F2cmLqRsUBkD1Aju52UYtRmPWlx03BV-B4QKesOLSI81coxnwebRVICbowbvxwCB-SDFqz_TYzuxXs00o3P3lERs9G-tu6vyIeyevToh1qnAJbzaECx3E5NoChlBWr-4PisoIMlhquP_MFkm0U5X4zwrqbyg/w300-h400/2023-06-12%2012.54.54.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p>Yesterday I had to go into town again (to buy a set of tires, ugh). While I was gone he pulled the trim off the latch side of my door, dug for while, then figured out how to unlock it. He got out. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg05eoMPNrdBVwh35xRCWO_sRrZYzrsZDDAjQTIIJGF162TdhHCK5jhTcUuVXWo3ACt6B-kBgb0p8SuRnGr5dyeScLnCSaTNuA0UfPxPCt1IGo-IlklxpXZIa8Y7pjCL1DnEOj9ojIXV6LyyZzm0DB3sQmPpqYMap-uyPb_dV_LANMax4tsnvnD_ZUKkw/s4032/2023-06-12%2012.52.56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg05eoMPNrdBVwh35xRCWO_sRrZYzrsZDDAjQTIIJGF162TdhHCK5jhTcUuVXWo3ACt6B-kBgb0p8SuRnGr5dyeScLnCSaTNuA0UfPxPCt1IGo-IlklxpXZIa8Y7pjCL1DnEOj9ojIXV6LyyZzm0DB3sQmPpqYMap-uyPb_dV_LANMax4tsnvnD_ZUKkw/w300-h400/2023-06-12%2012.52.56.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p>About 45 minutes before I got home there was a big thunderstorm. He was out, and close lightning strikes made him bolt. A neighbor came to the house with his four wheeler from a mile up the road to tell me Fred was up there. While we were talking I saw Fred running for home. The scared dog ran right into the house and up to the bedroom to sulk on the bed.</p><p>So, he's forcing another adaptation. I don't think I'll be able to lock him in for any reason. Which means I'll have to teach him to not follow me when I leave.</p><p>Such a wonderful friend. And such an incredible pain in my ass.</p></div>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-65044565157574242602023-06-09T15:06:00.003-06:002023-06-09T15:10:45.306-06:00My Home<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3ynw8ONdfD3GRNwggz2Eiamh4duvzorwnm4v6O5cFU8dgt0rV0XGnYGC1aMGJXtSLwYI4OJ8syx3Msl2ddh04VSU4RwAO6oIQKPjpJnIJZZpZ_yFiCuJDA2DYy7ipjPPtnEUP0Utid1ObSx1hwWN6JEJi63rnBEd8QPFsd3x2OzjKIwkZQvK9r3wfg/s4032/2021-05-28%2012.32.06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3ynw8ONdfD3GRNwggz2Eiamh4duvzorwnm4v6O5cFU8dgt0rV0XGnYGC1aMGJXtSLwYI4OJ8syx3Msl2ddh04VSU4RwAO6oIQKPjpJnIJZZpZ_yFiCuJDA2DYy7ipjPPtnEUP0Utid1ObSx1hwWN6JEJi63rnBEd8QPFsd3x2OzjKIwkZQvK9r3wfg/w640-h480/2021-05-28%2012.32.06.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I live about 25 miles east of Salida now, on a 3.3 acre place. I'm on Cottonwood Creek, and my eastern property line is the middle of the creek. This is facing west, with a nice view of the northern part of the Sangre de Cristo Range.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have great neighbors. We get along, cooperate, and respect each others' privacy. We get a little bit of ditch water, and we have to communicate about that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There is a community here, but very small. Houses are pretty well spread out up the creek. To the east of us is a big area of rugged BLM land of the piñon/juniper variety. No houses for miles in that direction. If you go 3 miles south up the creek you run onto BLM land, then State Trust, then Forest Service, then the Sangre de Cristo Wilderness Area. To the west is ag land and disbursed residences. Half a mile north is highway 50 and the river. I'm at 6600 feet elevation.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I moved here in March of 2021. I have a cheap security camera setup, 3 cameras with motion sensors. I have seen fox, coyote, bear, lion, skunk. The most troublesome are the lions. Especially for a goat rancher. In early March a lion took one of my goats, a nannie named Maude. I bought her from a stock sale with her sister Marilyn and bottle fed them for about a month then weaned. When you bottle feed an animal, you will forever have a special relationship. It made me sad, but it was because I didn't put them inside that evening until twilight.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Later last month my oldest cat Butters didn't come home. He showed up on the security cams in the week following, so I thought he might have made it and would show up one morning. But it's been a week and a half. He's always been independent, and he just would not come in that night. And the lion has come back at least once since Marilyn was taken.</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxGXNCtVNcse4uHPkPpzJDU9Qzarl7LIl1M-TJlnhlf42VBYmgpM-997RgGqELJwQMK8qDE4tC3WB_hpQs2fQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyoEiyVHg_Mi1Dnka9os4y18VrSzvHSJ0hUjNxLJu7t2tYQJl3V08-ksZlvnQuVnOS6MehzsixBC-u68NfPwA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxegBCaXjKqketZ6ZQMfchXPbPH6PLdIVr3-s1vgDxw4eJjZJHmUuGHp8Adck9Lw1I7spxdJ2vQXhJnFel-Rg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These videos were captured by my home security cameras. They are close to my house, in the 2nd one he walks 10 feet from the door I use to come and go. Roughly 4:25-4:30 am. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At the beginning of 2022 I adopted a shelter dog, a boy I call Fred. I had him DNA tested to confirm my theory that he had a lot of Great Pyrenes blood. Yep, half. Other half is a combo of Australian Shepard, mini Aussie, and Border Collie. Those herding breeds may have provided Fred with some of his abundant intelligence, but his personality is 100% Pyrenes. He's a goddamn magician. He finds things, makes things disappear, he gets into and out of locked things. Leave it on the counter? Sure, it's Fred's now.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Pyrenes were bred to be livestock guard dogs. Since he had figured out that an open window with a screen in it was just an open window, I knew I needed to get him a dog door. I mean, he's already destroyed some screens. And in summer the windows are open, period.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So that morning was one of the first when he'd figured out the dog door. I was asleep, but I woke up because of the racket outside. He went out there and started barking his big, bad dog bark. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='447' height='372' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxOhgmyj0LARUGhVgrhDIz8hnrqUU2vzZhTVbqEQvVWEnZVz2iBjCJuBNGcOluhmcxH4ScdENX4CGWN3udk4g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To see what happened a few minutes after my cameras by the house picked him up, one of my game cameras captured a fleeting glimpse of him heading for the woods and willows down by the creek, and he wasn't waiting for Fred to catch up to him. To see the action you have to look carefully at the lower right. He's gone within a second.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My home is in a wild place. Salida gets some fat lazy bears that want to cruise the alleys for garbage, and deer so tame and stupid you could punch one in the face if you want. Here the deer are wild and wary. We also have bighorn sheep, and elk now and then down from the high country. Lots of cows and pasture land. Irrigation ditches running with cold water.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No pizza. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-42116401569563988502023-05-27T14:14:00.002-06:002023-05-27T14:20:23.537-06:00Well, here we are.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNc6ntdWQ0oFf_pyPaKLV4qjbNK-ndmFk0l4vr-fFRGEE1xSdHsQbP1cfIDa01t3BRcr64aiazkoeV64GTC4nwvqEWNwqWudP_qB99WAF5280gRYnguaAFYPCkE0cAxPVI6zuYAS5gu-nNLhtef6pWqTkup7zKtOV8rw54Lmx5fQYZL1rK9nRl8rDow/s2688/2023-04-01%2013.34.26.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="2688" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNc6ntdWQ0oFf_pyPaKLV4qjbNK-ndmFk0l4vr-fFRGEE1xSdHsQbP1cfIDa01t3BRcr64aiazkoeV64GTC4nwvqEWNwqWudP_qB99WAF5280gRYnguaAFYPCkE0cAxPVI6zuYAS5gu-nNLhtef6pWqTkup7zKtOV8rw54Lmx5fQYZL1rK9nRl8rDow/w640-h262/2023-04-01%2013.34.26.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>The last time I posted to this blog was July 6, 2018. Since then things have happened. Things have changed. That's how it goes. Things do change. As an old-adjacent person, I find that they have been changing real real fast. But again, I'm old-ish.</p><p>So! Where to start? First of all, I don't ride bikes any more. Like, for the last almost 3 years. I just set new hooks and hung two of the bikes that I still have, covered in dust like some kind of loony's showroom-quality 1975 AMC Gremlin in a barn in Arkansas.</p><p>Point is, I rode the bikes hard for decades. I spent a lot of hours grinding away at Rocky Mountain climbs. I carried and pushed bikes up and over big land masses. Crappy late 80's and early 90's rigids and hardtails with pointless forks. Then better 26" hardtails. 29ers starting in 03. Some really nice 29" full suspension bikes. I did great things on a 2013 Giant Anthem aluminum. Also on Lenzsport Leviathan 4" bike from the 07 timeframe. Fond memories of a 2016-ish Yeti ASR.</p><p>But now, fuck it. My body hates peddly bikes. They hurt. I miss being fit. But I think about how much time I spent since I started doing this shit in '88 grunting and wheezing and trying to ride techy climbs clean. Fuck that shit. In that respect I am more than old-adjacent.</p><p>Now for me it's about animals. During the pandemic Salida became a zoom town. Real estate prices went apeshit and lots about the town I'd lived in for 20 years changed. I sold my house in town and bought a place halfway to Canon City. I own and live on a piece of land with a little irrigation water. </p><p>I worked at a raw milk dairy back in 2021, milking cows, feeding cows, straining and refrigerating milk. I found out that I like cows. The dairy shut down, but I had a chance to buy a bull calf out of my favorite milk cow, Sophie. I got him at 3 weeks old and bottle fed him. I call him Chuck. He's a steer, because my pair is the only one allowed here. </p><p>In order to have a herd for Chuck, I got goats. Two 1-year-old wethers and two bottle feeder babies. Come to find out goats are not a herd for a steer. They don't even really like each other. So I got another steer. His name is Brisket. </p><p>Along the way I found out that goats are easier than moo-cows in terms of work and expense. And they have more personality. The amount of land I have is a little limiting for moo-cows. So this summer of 2023 I will fatten Chuck and Brisket on grass, and in the fall they'll go to freezer camp. After that I will become a fulltime goat rancher. I now have four young nannie goats who will be bred this fall. Goat babies!</p><p>Five years that included a pandemic have past and I'm a different dude. And fatter. I have a motorcycle, a Yamaha WR250R. She and I went on a 86 mile jaunt in the Arkansas Hills this afternoon. We were turned back from plan A by rain. But it was a good ride nonetheless. </p><p>Life has entered a new phase for me as the pandemic slowly recedes into the past. It's way less weird to be a hermit in Coaldale surrounded by space and animals than it was being one in Salida. In my life here I often go days without speaking to anyone other than the critters. I MacGyver my way through obstacles because there's nobody else here and not much help even to be hired. Is it good? I don't know, but it suits me. I think that may be the best we can do. </p>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0Coaldale, CO 81222, USA38.365553299999988 -105.757783610.055319463821142 -140.91403359999998 66.675787136178826 -70.6015336tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-40302286069995612972018-07-06T09:32:00.000-06:002018-07-06T14:53:21.377-06:00ImpermanenceA Google definition:<br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><b>Impermanence, also called Anicca or Anitya, is one of the essential doctrines and a part of three marks of existence in Buddhism. The doctrine asserts that all of conditioned existence, without exception, is "transient, evanescent, inconstant".</b></i></span><br />
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I had a significant-other years ago who taught me about Buddhism. About how healthy it can be to understand and acknowledge those things that bring you suffering, or unhappiness. At the source of much of our unhappiness is craving. We crave a new house, car, bike. We may crave for a relationship with someone, and perhaps they don't share the attraction. The wanting without having causes suffering and unhappiness.<br />
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One of the things that we can crave is consistency; to have things remain as they have been. You like having your house and yard and family. You like knowing that you can pick up the phone and ask your dad for advice about things. You like, and assume, that these and many other aspects of your life won't change.<br />
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Impermanence is the idea that the consistency, the changeless nature of your world is an illusion. It may seem like your house will always be there for you. But then a forest fire or lava flow or some other event causes it to be gone. Existence is transient, evanescent, inconstant. Be grateful for those things that stay the way you want because the nature of our time on this earth is fleeting periods of constancy, punctuated by changes.<br />
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Several weeks ago my friends and I who put on the <a href="http://vaportrail125.com/" target="_blank">Vapor Trail 125</a> mountain bike race were notified that the Forest Service has closed FS 888, the Tomichi Pass Road due to a rock slide. They let us know that we can't use it for the Vapor Trail 125. They encouraged us to find an alternative route. So we started looking at maps and talking. As soon as I had a day off I drove over there with my bike to scout.<br />
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Looking at a map is one thing. Going to the place the map describes and really looking is another entirely. The Plan B I was investigating was looking like a real possibility on the map. My optimistic brain was looking for good news.<br />
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It took a while for the reality to sink in. It could work, but there would be need for a whole new aid station. One with a bonfire and plenty of blankets. They would have to descend for most of an hour in the wee hours of the morning in the high country, chilling them to the bone. Then climb 3500 feet in about 5 miles. Then descend Canyon Creek, which takes two hours, even when you are not already hypothermic and/or exhausted from a three hour hike-a-bike. Canyon Creek is already our number 1 injury risk area, with this course it would be much more dangerous. Nobody would be on Old Monarch Pass until late morning or early afternoon. So then you have thunderstorm danger on the Crest.<br />
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What if we dumped Canyon Creek from the course? What, then Waunita Pass to Black Sage? I haven't even seen those passes. Where would the second aid station go? If we did that the course would be way easier instead of way harder, is that OK? How many days do I have off between now and the event day to explore and plan?<br />
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I struggled against the obvious truth. I went back to Forest and asked if there was any chance they would allow us to use Tomichi even with the risk. No. Their risk sensitivity for event permits is the maximum. And honestly, I have a lot of respect for how unstable much of the rock in this part of the Sawatch Range really is. It's rotten, decayed granite. Part of the reason we love it is that it's so raw and rugged.<br />
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The event can't happen this year if we can't use Tomichi. There isn't an obvious good alternative, and we don't have time to plan for a new course. Can a person push a bike over that slide? Yes. I know they can because my friend Alex told me about encountering it on a bikepacking trip. He found it sketchy, but he got across. That doesn't matter though; as long as Forest thinks it's dangerous, we won't be able to use it.<br />
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Will they fix it? I'm not holding my breath. Fixing/stabilizing it will be expensive and dangerous as hell. And at the end of the day, it's a jeep trail. Sure, it's nice to have if you're a jeeper, moto rider, hiker, or mountain biker. But it's not like a highway. Only a small percentage of the population will ever even see it. It's 100% a recreation route. Not used to deliver any goods or services.<br />
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When all of this became clear to me it made me really sad. The Canyon Creek Trail has been part of the Vapor Trail 125 since 2008. The course since then is perfect. It's a large part of what made the event great. To me it was a given that we should keep using it. Different people have suggested changes over the years, from small to large. My response has always been why the hell would we change it? The course is amazing.<br />
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But now it's not viable without major changes. The event doesn't need to die, but without a bunch of creative work it might.<br />
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Impermanence.<br />
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People and animals get old, get sick, die. Marriages suffer infidelity and fail. Brick and mortar crumble. Forests burn. Rocks fall.<br />
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Things are not permanent. Even if we want them to stay the same, they don't. That is not the nature of existence. The nature of existence is transient, evanescent, inconstant.<br />
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What Buddhism teaches is that this craving for permanence, among other things, makes us suffer. To stop the suffering, first get in touch with what it actually is that is making you suffer, then stop the craving. Acceptance is the end of craving. Understand it and accept it. The more you fight it the more unhappy it makes you.<br />
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I'm obviously no Buddhist scholar, but I have taken comfort in understanding some of what makes this painful. It's not just that I won't have the experience of another wonderful Vapor Trail 125 this year, that I won't see many of the family of riders and supporters that have come to be an important part of my life in September. That is hard, and it makes me sad. But what's really hard is that something that was, no longer is. I had no real awareness of how attached I was to the idea that we have this event that uses this amazing course. But now I am aware. And now I am struggling to accept that our amazing course may never be the same.<br />
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The knowledge that I will be working to re-imagine the course with Shawn and Earl (and hopefully some younger folks) is helping. The fact that so many people are sharing my sadness and disappointment is helping. It's going to be OK. We're going to work hard to create a new course that will hopefully not leave anybody missing the old one.<br />
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Let's all really appreciate the memories that we have of so many great Vapor Trail 125s on that amazing course. Maybe we never get to use it again, but let's honor it with our memories.<br />
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2018 has already been a year of Impermanence. This silly little rock slide is nothing compared to the fires, floods, social and political disruptions, and wars that rock the planet. It's a damned bike race after all. We're not curing cancer. But it's always hard when your world changes, and you just want it to change back.Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-44088192368697892282017-03-21T10:35:00.001-06:002017-03-21T10:39:51.617-06:00Happiness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Apparently yesterday was the world happiness day. The 5th world happiness day has now become history. Kinda silly, but maybe it is a good thing to have a look at your own state of being. Are you enjoying your time on earth? Do you have a short term reason to be unhappy? Or a short term reason to be happy?</div>
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Right now in my life I'm going to call my happiness level a B, maybe B+. Enjoying my work at <a href="http://absolutebikes.com/" target="_blank">Absolute Bikes</a>. It's better for me physically, going from 100% desk time at work to 75+% standing and/or walking time. And it's better for me to be among the community, connecting to people and meeting new ones. </div>
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We've had a nice mild late winter. I've been bike riding a lot, and starting to feel like I'm in OK shape.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A day at Lake Pueblo State Park</td></tr>
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As I've thought about my level of happiness and what brings happiness it's occurred to me that part of it, a foundational part, is Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. I have food and shelter. I have adequate resources, and even luxury resources like nice bicycles. I have secure employment that I not only tolerate but enjoy. I live in a beautiful place.<br />
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I have safety. Certainty, security about the future, confidence in our democracy, not so much. I don't usually put political content into this blog, but now I am. If you don't want to read it, you're welcome to click away now.<br />
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I'm staying in touch with the news, trying to avoid reading or watching content that comes from sources too far from the middle. Filtering. Because I know there's a lot of crap out there that seeks to influence me. I do not support our current government, and I'm quite certain that the outcome would have been different had there been no meddling by Russia. The transition of power, should it prove to be true that there was direct collusion between 45's campaign and the Russian state, is likely to be contentious. And possibly even violent.<br />
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But isn't it worse if we just let it go? Not because 45's politics differ from mine (which they most definitely do), but because we're supposed to be putting the people into office who've been selected by The People. Not Putin and his staff, but the American people.<br />
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I could go on and on and on. Like many people who are appalled by 45 and his bizarre behavior and hateful policies, I've got lots of words. <br />
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But how does this relate to happiness? If this fundamental external frustration vector exists, how can I possibly be scoring a B+? I mean, safety is the second level of Maslow's needs pyramid. Security and a belief in a safe future is part of that. That's what I'm writing about. Because, dunno. Maybe the current state of semi-chaos agrees with my worldview and I find some contentedness in that. Maybe it just doesn't matter since it's obviously beyond my control.<br />
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Or maybe it's all just pushing me to figure out how to enjoy today and now. Because tomorrow my health insurance may become un-affordable. Or the economy may tank because somebody is firing legions of government employees and monkeying around with trade agreements.<br />
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Whatever is causing this, I'm feeling grateful. Grateful for what we all currently have. Hoping against hope that things won't fall apart too badly.<br />
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<br />Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-21158243252905302682016-12-08T10:07:00.002-07:002016-12-15T08:10:34.085-07:00Four Years of My Life, Each Ending in 6I was born in 1964, in January. As of this writing in December of 2016 I'm nearing the end of my 52nd lap around the sun. As I've been thinking about my life now and the time of transition I'm in, I recall other transition times. Oddly, four important transition times in my life have come to their culmination in a year ending with 6.<br />
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<b>1986</b>. I had been going to school at University of Wyoming (pretending to be a student) since fall of 1982. I arrived at Laramie from west Michigan where I was born and raised in a small town. I showed up with a pretty impressive substance abuse problem for someone my age. During my years in Laramie, in the heyday of the 'Just Say No' Reagan 80's, I went pro. As a friend and roommate put it, in the summer of '86 we were Promenading Down the Funky Broadway. When the fall semester started that year, my lifestyle was off the rails. I actually tried to keep up with my classes, but I was too engrossed in a culture of drugs and alcohol. I flunked every one of my classes except for an Economics class, for which I believe my major advisor (who was the instructor) gave me the gift of an A.<br />
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<img src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/selfPortrait/80sTomWasted.jpg" /><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This was taken in 1986 at a sister's wedding reception. My face tells the story. Two of my three sisters are there.</span><br />
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My life had become a shambles, and dangerous. I was messing around with a culture that had the potential to send me to a prison or mental hospital. When I wasn't high I was depressed. So finally I figured out that I needed to leave Laramie. And I needed to be at least several hours away. My long time girlfriend had a job and was living in Grand Junction. That seemed far enough away, and I didn't have many other options. We had more or less broken up during my crazy summer (she had graduated in May and left town to go to work). Now I begged her to let me escape Wyoming. Grudgingly, she did. In December I moved to Grand Junction with no job and no plans other than getting away. I've been in Colorado ever since.<br />
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<b>1996</b>. I defended a thesis and graduated with a Masters Degree in Computer Information Systems from Colorado State University. I accepted a job at Hewlett-Packard in Colorado Springs.<br />
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On the way home from a house-hunting trip, I stopped at Mt Falcon Park near Morrison, CO to ride my bike. During that ride I crashed and sustained a traumatic brain injury. I still have an inches-long scar on the left side of my skull from the impact. I drove home to Fort Collins from Mt Falcon by myself after the accident. Drove right to my house in rush hour traffic and remember none of it at all. I used my golden hour to make it home. I lost the memory of most of that day. I know I was at Mt Falcon only because I knew that was my plan. First I remember is being slid into a CAT Scan tube at midnight.<br />
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<img src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/selfPortrait/90sTomHair.jpg" /><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I think this was around January '96. The mullet was replaced by a grownup short haircut before I went to work at HP.
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I started my career at HP with stitches hidden under my hair. I didn't want them to know, because I was afraid I might not be as smart as the guy they'd interviewed and hired. I worked my ass off that first year. By Christmas I was fat, as heavy as I've ever gotten. But I'd figured out how to be a valuable staff member. So my job was secure, I was married to the girlfriend from Wyoming, and had a house in Black Forest. I was 32 and had become a <i>responsible grownup</i>.<br />
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<b>2006</b>. My marriage had been falling apart for the whole year. In May of 2003 I had been laid off from Agilent Technologies (an HP spin-off). Agilent had moved me to Salida to be a stay-at-home programmer. Things had been tense between my ex and I from the job loss. Then there were some deaths in her family and we lost some beloved pets. We were withdrawn from each other, each of us pursuing our individual interests. I was suffering from anxiety and depression and a loss of identity.<br />
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During the Thanksgiving holiday that year, we had the fight that ended it. We separated, but there was no place for me to go. We weren't ready to sell the house, and she was the one who loved it, so I was going to need to find a place.<br />
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It was December.
As soon as I knew that we were separating I signed up for a 24 Solo spot at the <a href="http://www.epicrides.com/events/24-hours-in-the-old-pueblo/event-guide/" target="_blank">24 in the Old Pueblo</a> near Tucson. I had been wanting to do a 24 Solo after years of being on 4-man teams. Now I was free to do whatever I wanted. So I signed up and started figuring out how to get fit for it in the couple months I had until February.<br />
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I sold my last chunk of Agilent stock and bought a travel trailer. To hell with getting an apartment and sitting in it through the winter. Our early winter had already been suckful and it was making me miserable. I decided to drag the trailer down to Southern Arizona to live and train.<br />
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During December I was getting the trailer ready. And I was looking for a window of good weather to get out of the mountains.
I wrote <a href="http://teamvelveeta.tom-purvis.com/2006/12/bugging-out.html">a blog post</a> when I finally decided to stop waiting for dry road and just GTFO. I don't mention the trailer in the blog post, but that was really the deal--hauling a 4400 pound 2-axle trailer in a raging storm was scary. But eventually, the need to be gone overcame the need to be safe.<br />
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<img src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/traylerGuy.jpg" /><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Standing in front of my trailer in Colossal Cave Mountain Park east of Tucson. First day. So... now what?</span><br />
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I met some amazing people down there, got involved in Arizona Trail trail work, and was eventually offered a job on a Pima County trail crew that could lead to supervisor. I almost stayed. But Salida drew me back.<br />
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<b>2016.</b> Which is now.<br />
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During the last 10 years I took endurance riding to a level that I'd never achieved. I had a long relationship with a wonderful woman that sadly didn't work. Relationships with women have gotten harder to keep working. I've become a crotchety old fart. I sustained injuries in a motorcycle accident in 2014 that kept me off the bike for four months, and it aged me. My beard is now totally gray.<br />
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<img src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/selfPortrait/tomSnowBiking12-7-2016.jpg" width="640" /><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Snow biking 12/7/2016. The hunting beard has become the winter beard. Needed it for the warmth that day!</span><br />
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In 2010 I went back to a programming staff job after working for <a href="http://www.absolutebikes.com/" target="_blank">Absolute Bikes </a>starting in 2004. I worked hard, and made enough to buy a house of my own in 2011. That first return to IT job was in Buena Vista. In 2012 an old friend gave me an IT job here in town, 13 blocks from home.<br />
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This year, I seem to have lost the ability to do the work. My brain simply is not as agile as it was years and decades ago. Keep in mind, I had the 80s with vigorous substance abuse, a major TBI in 1983 and an even worse one in '96 (described above). And I'm aging.<br />
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I don't find the new technology exciting any more. The pace of change is exhausting to me. Becoming low-productivity and resistent to change is classic for aging softward developers. I remember the people we called dinosaurs back in my HP days. Now I'm the dinosaur. If I still worked for a big company like Agilent I would have had the option to go into management perhaps. But I chose Salida--I stayed when corporate America barfed me out. <br />
<br />
Being a software developer is hard work. And it's over for me, at least as far as I'm concerned right now. I can still do things with computers, but writing the stuff that runs on them is now somebody else's job. I am both crying uncle and choosing life. So there's my transition theme for now.<br />
<br />
I'm back to working at the bike shop, which is good for me. I'm trying to get my body healthy again (desk time and the impact on my energy level from feeling inadequate at work have taken their toll). I want to lose 15 pounds and get <a href="http://vaportrail125.com/" target="_blank">VT125</a>-fit again.<br />
<br />
I hunted successfully this Fall, <a href="http://teamvelveeta.tom-purvis.com/2016/10/killing-a-deer.html" target="_blank">killing a young mule deer buck</a>. He's in my freezer. My life will hopefully be simpler and cheaper in the coming years. It will need to be cheaper because my income just took a pretty severe haircut. I have my amazing little dog and three good cats, a house in a town that has become my place to put down roots (17th year!), and many dear friends. As I have in four years ending with 7, I'll create a new reality for myself. Nothing to do now but get on with it.<br />
<br />
Funny how life can happen in tidy little decade chunks.<br />
<br />
<br />Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-45288604440199597562016-10-30T20:00:00.000-06:002016-11-17T16:37:09.244-07:00Killing a deerI've been drawing permits to hunt deer and elk in Colorado for the last decade, on and off. I've put in serious efforts, casual efforts, and some years I've blown off hunting the permit altogether. My feeling about buying hunting and fishing licenses is that it's not a bad place to contribute money. It's not for nothing, even if I don't shoot or catch anything. And hunting is an excuse to spend a bunch of time outside, looking and listening intently.<br />
<br />
Point is, for my ten years as a big game hunter in Colorado I have never managed to be any threat to the well-being of any game. I've tried to get smarter about it; reading, talking to people who hunt, thinking about what I've done that hasn't worked. One of the things I have known is that I move around too much. Better off getting somewhere and staying put, but I get antsy, or cold when I'm sitting. A better strategy is to be quiet, stay in cover. Look and listen. Use your binoculars. Be patient.<br />
<br />
This year I decided to take it a little more seriously. I have a camper again, so I did a bunch of exploring around my game unit, which was actually a handful of game units, in the Arkansas Hills north of Salida, and decided where to locate hunt camp. I intended to go up and stay up for at least the first three days of the season. Wednesday (10-19-2016) I dragged my camper up a heinously steep, rough jeep road. Then came back Friday outfitted to stay and hunt. Saturday morning long before light I was putting gear together then driving my truck half a mile down another jeep road.<br />
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<img alt="hunt camp" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/HuntCamp2016-10-19.jpg" width="800" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hunt Camp</span><br />
<br />
I'm going to tell the story of the hunt, but first will reveal a spoiler: I did shoot a deer. In the story that follows, there are some very specific descriptions of things I saw and did that might be hard for some people to read. Killing and field dressing a large animal is an intense and humbling experience. And often quite gory. Much of this is described. Be warned.<br />
<br />
Morning hunts are about getting to where you want to be sitting an hour before it's legal to shoot. Bothering to wake up in the hills right where you want to start hunting on opening day is worth the trouble, or at least it should be. The one nearly-shot I had at a cow elk years ago was on an early morning opening day. After that, never saw another animal the whole season. So Saturday morning 90 minutes before sunrise I was heading down into a draw that's more or less familiar to me from scouting.<br />
<br />
I had made a GPS line to follow, but it was hard going. Darkness, backpack, rifle, binoculars, trying to read a GPS in the dark. I was wearing a good headlamp, but it was still awkward, difficult, and noisy walking. Unexpected thick brush and blowdowns appeared. Since I was following a line I'd drawn based on slope steepness rather than a track I had walked to confirm, I knew there was a chance it would lead me into a dumb place, like a 20 acre blowdown tangle. After about 20 minutes I vacillated; lost confidence in the line I was following. "Right here looks pretty good", I thought.<br />
<br />
Yeah, it wasn't. I sat there as the morning light advanced until it was legal to shoot. I used my binoculars to scan all around, but once it was light I could see I was in a crappy place. Couldn't really see very far. Five minutes after legal light I heard rifle shots to the west. Somebody had done what you are supposed to do with first light opening day. With a sigh, I got up and started looking for a better place. Doing what I always do, walking around like Elmer Fudd during the best hours of hunting in the whole season. I found a good place and hung out there from about 8 to 9:15 or so. By then sun was high, the prime morning hunting time was done. I had watched the morning from a beautiful place but saw no animals other than birds and squirrels.<br />
<br />
Hiked back to the truck and drove back to the trailer. Got some food and got comfortable to rest. Then the wind came up, and it blew an absolute gale all day. Wasn't even gusting, just a steady river of wind. I was so happy to have a trailer to sit in. But not pleased about the weather. Wind blowing dirt into your face all day? Yeesh. Hope tomorrow isn't like this.<br />
<br />
At around 3:30 I got my lazy butt up and laced up my boots. Time to go out until it was illegal to shoot (too dark around 6:10). I had been planning to 4-wheel back south to a place I'd seen in the morning, but instead just walked from the trailer. The wind had me bummed and skeptical about the hunt.<br />
<br />
I headed up onto what shows on the topo map as Loco Ridge. I angled off to the east, the leeward side of the ridge. I got to the edge of a large park lined with thin stands of aspen. I checked my GPS and it showed I'd walked only .2 mile from camp. The ridge and aspen above me were good shelter from the wind. I found a place to lean the rifle, a round chambered and safety on. I sat and started looking around through my binoculars (AKA glassing).<br />
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<img alt="hunt camp" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/LocoRidge2016-10-19.jpg" width="800" />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Vicki on Loco Ridge during a scouting hike the day we brought up the trailer. Kill site was down the slope behind her less than half a mile.</span><br />
<br />
So I start scanning the horizon. Yeah yeah, grass. Trees. Bushes. Wait, what's that?<br />
<br />
Unmistakable. The head and ears of an ungulate. Far away. Half a mile or more probably. Looking with naked eyes I couldn't see anything. Even with binocs, too far to tell if there are antlers. Not even entirely sure whether it's deer or elk. My tag was for a buck, antlered deer. My thought was, "oh well, pretty far. I'd have to walk right across the meadow out in the open to get closer. No way I'd get there without spooking it. Can't even tell for sure if it isn't a funny shaped log."<br />
<br />
My head was in the old way. I was out here with a tag and a rifle, but come on. I'm not going to actually get close enough to shoot a buck. After probably at least 5 minutes, looking over occasionally to see if he was still there, finally I thought, "I might as well try to get close enough to at least see what it is. What have I got to lose?" So I got up, gathered my junk and started crouch-trotting across the open field.<br />
<br />
After I'd closed 2 or 3 hundred yards I stopped and kneeled down with my binoculars. Wow. Definitely mule deer. Antlers! Forker. He stood as I was watching. I figured he knew I was there and would run off soon so I crouched a little lower. He was still at least 500 yards away from me, so I wouldn't dream of taking a shot from there. After a couple minutes he was still there, and his back was to me. Maybe he didn't know I was there and had only stood because it was the end of his daytime nap.<br />
<br />
I saw a large bush almost between us. If I was uphill 50 yards it would be between us. I quickly moved uphill to put the bush between us, then I ran to it (well, you would probably call it lumbering more than running). I got to the bush and he was still there. I could see antlers well enough to know that he was a 2x3 (two points on one antler, three on the other). Seemed to be 200 yards or less. I don't even remember how I set up the shot, whether I went prone, kneeling; just don't remember. But I did shoot. I had steady crosshairs on an animal standing still sideways to me. Other than being closer, there's not a better situation. So I took the shot.<br />
<br />
The deer was hit but didn't go down and started heading away from me into a stand of aspen. I sent a second shot but it was a Hail Mary at a running deer's butt. I really wanted a clean, instant kill. But it was no time to mourn. I had wounded an animal and now there was complete urgency, I needed to put him down. If he kept going I had to track him until I could.<br />
<br />
I waited behind the bush for about 30 more seconds after I couldn't see him in the aspen stand he'd gone into. A friend gave me that advice: don't immediately start chasing an animal you've wounded. It might not run for the horizon if you aren't immediately in pursuit. But if you're chasing and it is capable of running, it will run. Wait just a bit then stalk carefully and quietly. Which is what I did.<br />
<br />
I crossed the distance I had shot quickly but as quietly as possible toward where he'd been hit. As I reached the edge of the aspen I saw a lot of blood on the grass. It was easy to follow where he went, and after about 100 feet into the aspen I saw him laying in the grass. I felt a little better about my shooting, I'd obviously hit him well enough with one or both shots that he was down. I probably wouldn't be tracking him until it was too dark to see without the headlamp I hadn't brought with me.<br />
<br />
As I approached, he moved. Still breathing. Damn. Probably too wounded to get up, but not yet dead. I stopped. Remembering that I'd never extracted the spent round in the chamber I cycled the bolt and loaded a live round from the magazine. He could possibly leap to his feet and run. As I slowly moved closer I could see a jagged exit wound on his chest, I doubted that he would jump up. But he was going to need to be shot again right away.<br />
<br />
Emotion was strong in me, as well as adrenaline. I remember as a kid shooting a bird with my BB gun just to kill it, not because I wanted to eat it. As I watched that little bird die on the ground I felt like a terrible, selfish person for just choosing to end this animal's life because I could. That feeling came back to me--a sense of being selfish and cruel. It surprised me, because I'm very comfortable with my reason for hunting. I want the meat. But here I was, an irresponsible little boy holding a rifle above a wounded animal. Then I remembered, I'm harvesting a resource. It's only irresponsible if I waste the resource.<br />
<br />
He was beautiful, with healthy coat and looking well-fed. We faced each other, I looked into his eyes and said "thank you", then shot him in the neck from 10 feet away. His rib cage deflated like a un-knotted balloon. The light left his eyes.<br />
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<img alt="my buck" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/TheBeautifulCreature.jpg" width="800" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">A beautiful, healthy creature whose life I took for my own needs. Grateful for his life. Every bit of meat will be cherished.</span><br />
<br />
I cleared the ammunition out of my rifle chamber and magazine and leaned it against an aspen. It was time to get to work. As I left the trailer to hunt that afternoon, I had grabbed a knife <i>as an afterthought</i>. Honestly, when I left for the hunt I was pretty sure I'd be back drinking beer pretty soon. Another lesson, don't go out with your rifle unless you have everything else you might need.<br />
<br />
I had grabbed the one knife I have with a gut hook, which is fortunate. A gut hook is a curved back tab that's sharp on the inside. It helps to slice open an animal's belly without cutting into the guts.<br />
<br />
You want the whole GI tract to come out intact. It's full of bacteria, and that bacteria can help spoil your meat. I knew this. Luckily my bullet hadn't gone through the belly. That happens. It is awful for the animal, and also makes a mess which is a threat to the meat. Gut shot animals often run far before dying slowly in severe pain. It is so very important to place shots carefully.<br />
<br />
My first shot was placed very well side to side, but it was 3 or 4 inches below the heart. There was a jagged hole in his lower ribcage where the bullet exited. It could be that I was further than 200 yards, and the bullet had started the drop in trajectory and I hadn't accommodated it by aiming up a little higher. But that would only be an inch or maybe 1.5 at that distance. And I really don't think it was more than 200 yards. As I think about it, a more likely explanation was that I was above him enough that my bullet was slanting downward. It may have entered at the right place, but was heading in the wrong direction and went under the heart. Perhaps I had a little flinch and shot low. Or it was placed wrong and I should have aimed little higher. One of my several regrets about that day is that I did not think to do the forensics, specifically locating the entrance wound so I could know more about how he was shot and why I missed the heart. I'm pretty sure elevation is the answer, but if I'd checked the entrance wound location I would know for sure. Just wasn't present enough.<br />
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The bullet took out a big chunk of lung, which also means it took out some large blood vessels. I'm guessing he would have died on his own after 5 or 10 minutes. But I'm sad that I lost the chance for a more humane instant kill.<br />
<br />
I read an article a while ago where the author was talking about how primitive even a modern hunting rifle truly is as a tool for killing animals. A small pellet of metal is spit out of a tube from hundreds of yards away by a human being who probably has a high heart rate and shaky hands. The pellet must find vitals and dispatch the animal reliably. Sometimes it works perfectly, sometimes OK, sometimes it's a disaster. Sometimes the bullet just takes out a leg. A deer can still outrun a man using only three legs. I heard a story yesterday about how a young hunter destroyed a deer's lower jaw and the wounded animal wasn't found. That animal could run as fast as a healthy one, and probably lived for weeks before starving or being killed by a predator. To me, causing something like that would be a nightmare.<br />
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So obviously shooting well is extremely important to hunt ethically. To shoot well means being able to reliably place the bullet where you want. It takes practice, and you can learn how to shoot well at a rifle range. In my case, I think I shoot reasonably well but I don't fool myself into thinking I'm a great marksman. I have a distance limit. In order to be accurate within inches out further than 100 yards, the rifle needs to be held perfectly still. The tiniest little shake will make the bullet hit feet not inches from the target. Even on the range, I'm hard pressed to reliably perform acceptable shots much past 200 yards.<br />
<br />
Another issue that's critical to shooting well especially at long distance is to know your rifle's ballistics/trajectory. My rifle, a .308, is pretty flat out to about 250 yards, but past that the bullet starts to fall fairly quickly. Beyond 250, you better have a range-finder and remember exactly what the drop will be at the accurately-measured distance.<br />
<br />
Of course you can also shoot badly in shorter range, which typically comes from not practicing, and/or failing to adjust your scope to confirm that the rifle is even aiming at what the scope is aimed at. And practice will hopefully show you what your limits are, as it has for me. Bad shooting causes gut shots, broken legs, etc. In my opinion, it's unacceptable. Take the shooting seriously or do not hunt.<br />
<br />
You need to know how to put the little pellet of metal where you want it, but you also need to know <i>where that should be</i>. And that means not just putting it behind he shoulder. It means that you need to figure out where is the heart. You need to aim at the heart, where it is in 3D space. If I'd been on flat ground I think I would have been aiming at the heart. But I was far enough above him that I was actually aiming low because of the slant. Next time, if there is a next time, I'll have a lot more knowledge.<br />
<br />
Gutting a 250 pound animal is gory. Now might be a time to skip down a few paragraphs if you aren't into specifics.<br />
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The method I've been taught is that you use the gut hook to open up the belly while you keep the animal rolled onto its back. Then you tip the animal down so the stuff can fall out. Well, it doesn't just fall out. Your hands are up inside this warm animal, you're cutting and pulling. Massive amounts of blood. Guts you've seen pictures of are right there in your hands, warm and slimy with fresh warm blood. You have your hands way up in there, one holding a sharp knife. Every once in a while a muscle twitches to remind you that this creature was alive minutes ago.<br />
<br />
At a point early in the process I dropped the knife and staggered back a couple steps then got down on hands and knees to breath. Overwhelmed. I was a little light-headed, more like faint than puke. It all was so intense. Still had adrenaline from stalking and killing. I didn't need much time to get over it. I caught my breath and in less than a minute and went back to work.<br />
<br />
I got as much out of the deer as I could, but I needed a saw to cut the ribcage and pelvis.<br />
<br />
Think about that for a second if you aren't familiar with butchering. You need to cut a LOT of bone. You are sawing away on bone that is bleeding; meat and tendons and skin and hair are clogging up the saw teeth. This is intimate. You have ended this creature's life, and now begun the process of dismantling him. It's not pretty. Unless you have a macabre sense of what's pretty.<br />
<br />
It was time to go get the truck. But first I needed to drag him out to the jeep road.<br />
<br />
The jeep track I'd driven down for the morning hunt was about a quarter mile downhill from the kill site. It was slightly closer to the north, but flat or climbing to get there. Immediately it became obvious that just dragging this guy, even with 30+ pounds of his guts out of him was <b>work</b>. I had my rifle and binoculars flopping around on me as I yanked at his antler, steering him around rocks and brush. Downhill was hard enough so I didn't bother to take the closest path to the road. Thankfully the kill site wasn't truly rugged ground and it was so close to where I could get my truck. It was hard work, but probably less than 10 minutes. If it had been miles to move him I would have had to go get the saw and frame pack and cut him into multiple parts to carry. And that would have been happening in the dark.<br />
<br />
I left him laying in the grass next to the road with my tag attached to an antler. I might have done the tagging later since I only had a little more daylight left, but if a game warden found him before I could get back it would be technically poaching without the tag attached. Ten minutes walking back to camp, start truck, probably ten minutes to creep down the jeep road to where my deer lay.<br />
<br />
Loading this guy into my truck almost killed me. I couldn't lift him. Luckily I had a come-along with me, which is a winch tool. But even with that it was an awkward grunt. I had some lumber with me, but only 4 foot 2x4s. A 6+ foot long 2x8 would have helped but I had nothing like that. The 2x4s helped, but barely. It was awkward. With one other person, even if that person was a 12 year old, it would have been easy. By myself it was a bitch. But it had to be done and nobody was there to help.<br />
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When I got back to camp I noticed that it was 5:10. Wow. Only like 90 minutes since I'd left to go on the hunt. Seemed like it had been hours. But that just meant I wouldn't have to hang him, finish gutting, and skin him completely in the darkness. Found a tree to hang him from and for almost three hours I was working on dressing out his carcass. As I worked, he looked less and less like a deer and more like a carcass.<br />
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As I worked on this animal with knives and saws I was surprised by how well I adjusted to it. I've known people who hunted until the day they killed something and had to field dress it. Some people can't do it and I'm telling you, I get that. Field dress a deer and there's nothing abstract about the life that's been taken. It's as real as the blood and hair and shit all over your hands and clothes as you dismantle it.<br />
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Very hard work, and dangerous. I cut myself three or four times, luckily only minor. But you really have to be careful, because often you are in there pulling with your left hand and cutting with your right. After I cut my left thumb at around 7:30 I made myself stop and think. If I cut myself BAD it will be an hour of 4-wheeling just to get to town for stitches. If it was REALLY BAD I might have to use my SPOT beacon to call in Search and Rescue. Be careful dipshit!<br />
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I was struggling with the animal's rear end. The way the pelvis holds the poop chute plumbing is hard to deal with. I remember that there's a clean method for doing it which I tried from my memory but couldn't get to work. I'll need to find that youtube and review it before elk season starts. But I didn't have youtube and I was struggling.<br />
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The deer's bladder was hanging out of the gore, and it was pretty full. My tired and addled brain said, "Wish he'd peed before I shot him. I don't want that pee all over the carcass, maybe I should drain it before cutting it out so I can control where the pee goes." So I poked it with the tip of my skinning knife and it immediately flopped over to aim right at my chest. Argh! Really controlled where it went. 90% of it wound up all over me.<br />
<br />
At least I didn't get much pee on the carcass! For just a second I was angry (might say <i>pissed off</i>), but then I just kind of chuckled at my goofiness and got on with it.<br />
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Skinning was the easy part. Glad I did it while he was still warm, it's harder once the animal has gotten cold. I skinned him down to where the skin was all hanging over his head inside out (he was hung by the rear legs) and then called it a night. I was super tired and there was beer to drink. And really, the next thing that needed to happen to the carcass for the sake of the meat was to chill down. It had been dark for a couple hours and was starting to cool down, but only the 50s. A nice night in the 20s would really make Sunday easier because I wouldn't have to hurry so much to find him a cooler. But 39 was the low, which was adequate. We've been having a fair (but windy) October. Even at 9500 feet where my camp was it just wasn't very cold for the time of year.<br />
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In the morning I cut away the now very leathery skin and then used a saw to cut off his head. Then I backed the truck over to where I could just swing him onto the tailgate rather than drop him to the ground and have to lift him. I laid a blue tarp in the truck and slid him in. The skin, head, complete guts had to be close to a 1/3 of his weight. So much easier to load. I could have dead-lifted him if needed. He was loaded up. I gathered meat scraps, organs, etc that had been scattered around, and took them and the skin a couple hundred yards from camp. Most of it other than the hide are probably gone already. Lots of smaller critters will benefit from the parts I did not take. If there's a next time I'll keep some of the organ meat.<br />
<br />
I also filled a construction garbage bag with glass, cans, and various junk that previous campers had left around the camp site. I always feel good about using public land when I'm able to leave it better than it was.<br />
<br />
I hooked up the trailer and got everything ready and by probably 7:15 I was on my way back down to town. As I was approaching the top of the first steep rubble filled section of jeep road I stopped to shift my transfer case into low range. It dawned on me that I should try to post to Facebook for help finding a cooler to store him until it was time to process. Fortunately my phone had data service, so I sat there in my idling truck in neutral typing a post to Facebook asking if anyone knew of a cooler in town where I could rent space. Sunday morning! I wasn't going to find many businesses answering phones. It would certainly get up into the 70s in town, no way I could wait until Monday. So I sent the post and then went to work getting my truck and trailer safely out.<br />
<br />
Getting to town took time. I can get there or back in the truck without the trailer in under an hour, but it took close to 90 minutes to get down with the trailer. Lots of 1.5 mph engine braking and bumping and lurching.<br />
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Thanks to the closeness of the community, I found a cooler within a couple hours of getting home. Met the guy who had the cooler and dropped off the carcass. Then I went home and sawed a cap of his skull that had the antlers growning out. Then put the head without antlers into a plastic bag and into my freezer. The enormous ears (there's a reason they're called mule deer) had to be folded down to get the door to close.<br />
<br />
Then it was time to clean knives and saws. Unload the trailer and sort out all the gear. Before I knew it 4 PM had arrived, I'd never eaten lunch (had an energy bar for breakfast), and I was shelled. I didn't do anything else the rest of the day.<br />
<br />
Monday I took his head to the Division of Wildlife and dropped it off for CWD (Chronic Wasting Disease) testing. CWD is related to BSE (Bovine spongiform encephalopathy), aka Mad Cow Disease. This is most often found in Colorado deer populations east and north of us, but it's been found elsewhere. I will not eat any of the meat until I get a negative test result.<br />
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<img alt="boiled down to meat" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/TheMeat.jpg" width="800" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The end goal of the whole process, meat ready to cook and eat.</span><br />
<br />
Tuesday afternoon I get 100 lbs of ice, picked up the carcass and packed it in ice in my truck bed then drove to Buena Vista were my friend Wes had offered to process/butcher the carcass for me for a reasonable fee. More importantly she'd let me watch and learn.<br />
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Wow, there's way more to processing than I had expected. Wes is a chef, and she focused on and prepared each piece of meat. Even the stew meat and grinding meat got focused trimming and examination. And of course she knows which cuts are better meat and which should be used for soup or sausage. While she was working she frequently commented about how nice the meat was. It was a healthy, well-fed animal, and I handled it well. I'm proud of that. I honored his life by focusing on the care of the meat and making sure I got a good harvest.<br />
<br />
I can see the value of having the meat professionally processed now. I would have hacked it up and packed it away not knowing much about what to write on each package. But processing is not free, even if you have a friend who will do it for a reasonable fee.<br />
<br />
So this meat was not cheap. I spent weeks scouting. I probably used up two tanks of gas getting up into the hills for scouting and hunting. And there was lots of 4-wheeling which is hard on tires and pretty much everything else on the truck. Cost me $20 to store for three days in a cooler. About $25 just for ice to transport him. I'll be handing Wes some cash, I won't say how much in case she wants to charge someone else who reads this a different amount. She deserves it for hours of effort. It was money well spent but still money. Burned a couple $30 boxes of ammo sighting in my rifle. Time, effort, whatever part of a $750 rifle and $100 worth of knives and saw I assign this animal (depreciation?).<br />
<br />
You do this because you enjoy the process and because you <i>prefer</i> game meat to domestic meat. And in my case, I felt that it was an important experience to have as a meat-eater. Buying meat that someone else has killed and butchered is handy, but I needed to know I could handle doing it myself when needed.<br />
<br />
So all I have to do is drive up there to collect my meat and pay Wes, then put it in my freezer. Once it's there and I get back the results of the CWD test, this chapter will be over. But then next week I'll be dragging my trailer up into a different game unit and getting ready to hunt elk starting 11-5-2016.<br />
<br />
I'm humbled by the prospect of killing an elk. I don't think I'm going to hunt as far from the road as I have traditionally. I'd like to be inside of 90 minutes for haul trips. A strenuous 4 hour haul trip would make for days of retrieval. And if it isn't cold enough during the day, some of the meat waiting to be hauled out could spoil. I have some friends who've offered to come up and help me haul, and I may need to take them up on it. But I can't ask them to do 4+ hour round trips. And even with help there could be meat out there for too long.<br />
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I've learned much from this experience; about hunting and myself. I'm moving forward as a hunter, hopefully a little wiser. And now I'll have at least the 70-100 lbs of meat that came off this buck for the winter. As of now, I intend to buy no meat until all my venison is gone.That's the rest of the way I'm going to honor the life that I took.<br />
<br />Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com2San Isabel National Forest, CO, USA38.736619510875855 -105.9180287687499937.945725010875854 -107.20892226874999 39.527514010875855 -104.62713526875tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-89998751619739902362016-04-29T05:59:00.000-06:002016-05-02T09:20:32.032-06:00West Elk Bicycle Classic 2015I love Gunnison, I love Crested Butte, I love Paonia, and I love the Kebler Pass road. I have loved this part of Colorado since I first saw it way back in the mid-80s.<br />
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<img alt="kebler pass road" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/kebler.jpg" />
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When I first saw this country, I loved it for its rugged beauty and remote places. As the years have gone by, and as I've lived close by just over the Continental Divide in Salida, I've learned to also love Gunnison County for the people. They tend to be kind, generous, fun, and friendly. Many are amazingly talented elite athletes with the humility of a novice.<br />
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Over the years I've been able to meet many of the key characters in the Gunnison County cycling universe. I met Dave Wiens, first through an event I help to manage, the Vapor Trail 125. Dave raced and won the event in 2005, the first year it ran. Then he assumed the role of aid station captain at our critical Aid Station #2. I raced the Growler a couple times, saw what a quality, well-run event it was, and became a volunteer.<br />
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I met Jarral Ryter also through the Vapor Trail 125, first as a competitor and then as our Aid Station #2 captain during some years when Dave's boys were busy with high school athletics and he couldn't be there to run it.<br />
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Jarral and Dave started an event several years ago as a benefit for the <a href="http://wscumountainsports.com/" target="_blank">Mountain Sports program at Western State Colorado University</a>. It's a road event, and I'm mostly mountain biker. But the course! The road I had only seen once between the Blue Mesa Reservoir dam and Paonia! Kebler Pass! And the Gunnison County people! With Jarral and Dave involved, I knew it would be run like a swiss watch. (Turns out I was right!)<br />
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So enough gushing about Gunnison County! What about the ride?<br />
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I got to Crested Butte the night before and had beers at the <a href="http://brickovencb.com/" target="_blank">Brick Oven Pizzeria and Pub</a>. The next day started before dawn. I got dressed and had some coffee thanks to my friend Dan who had offered me his spare room. When I stuck my face outside for the first time, raindrops were spattering. Whaaat?<br />
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I gave a little uh-oh and started re-thinking my clothing. I had hoped to get away with wearing shorts, short-sleeved jersey, arm warmers and light rain jacket. Leg warmers too? Rain pants? I needed leave soon with everything I would need, and to be able to carry everything all day. I did not want to wear a pack. I decided to stick with Plan A. If the weather wound up too nasty, the day would probably end early for me anyway. And I probably wouldn't be the only one.<br />
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Loaded up in a van a little while later in a dark, wet parking lot. Weather was the topic of conversation for the first 10 minutes or so, then we drove out from under the dome of Crested Butte moisture and into the gray dawn, and the rain stopped. By the time we got the the Western State Colorado University campus to the starting line, the sky was blue and the air was crisp and cool.<br />
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<img alt="starting line at WSCU" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/wsuStartingLine.jpg" />
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Boom! The gun went off and so did the peloton. We moved through town and west on highway 50 toward Blue Mesa. It was hold yer line and stay in the draft of the rider in front of you. The pace was brisk but comfortable even for an old fogie like myself. I just sat in the middle of the peloton and let it carry me along. <br />
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<img alt="in the peloton" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/selfPortrait/westElk2015-1.jpg" width="800" />
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And then about 10 miles from the start, it seemed that the riders at the front decided it was go time. The whole train upshifted and the chit-chat went away. Slowly the peloton started to break up. I wound up hanging with groups of 6-10 until we arrived at the dam and it was time to turn right onto CO Highway 92.<br />
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The first aid station was on the north side of the dam. I stopped and filled bottles with <a href="http://www.tailwindnutrition.com/" target="_blank">Tailwind Nutrition</a> calories. The station was stocked with all kinds of good food choices. But I was only interested in water to mix my Tailwind.<br />
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<img alt="riders on CO92" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/coHighway92.jpg" />
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The next section of the ride on CO 92 was one of my most anticipated parts of the day. And it did not disappoint. The views into the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, undulating pavement, cool air, and the near absence of traffic other than skinny-tire two-wheelers made for a wonderful mid-morning.<br />
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Funny how you never really know how much climbing there is on a bit of road you've only driven.
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<img alt="out on highway 92" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/selfPortrait/westElk2015-2.jpg" width="800" />
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What a beautiful place for a bike ride!
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<img alt="view from CO92" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/blackCanyonFromco92.jpg" />
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<img alt="view from CO92" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/co92West-1.jpg" />
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<img alt="view from CO92" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/co92West-2.jpg" />
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Colorado Highway 92 rolls up and down along the north rim of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, then eventually drops into the clay hills and rabbitbrush of Crawford and eventually Hotchkiss, CO. Fast descents on smooth, empty roads; deeper into the beautiful western slope landscape.<br />
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And warmer. The cool of the morning up in the hills had burned off. Not hot really, but definitely not cold. I became conscious of how much elevation I was giving up. There will be payback for all this la-de-da descending!<br />
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Did I mention aid stations? They were common, stocked with great food and drink options, and manned by friendly, helpful people. You could probably do this event carrying nothing more than a single water bottle. Crawford and Paonia are sweet little towns. Rolling through on my bike made me want to come back some time to look around. But the clock was ticking, and there was a boatload of climbing to do before it was beer:30 back in CB! I kept turning over the cranks.<br />
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<img alt="out on highway 92" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/selfPortrait/westElk2015-3.jpg" width="800" />
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After leaving Crawford and the wonderful aid station there, it was time to start the climbing. Very gradual at first, while we rolled on CO Highway 133 along the N. Fork of the Gunnison River. Shortly after passing through the old mining town of Somerset, we turned east off the highway onto a narrow paved road that soon became a narrow gravel road. We had reached the Kebler Pass road, and it was time to start really climbing. Between the low point on the course around 5,200 feet and 10,007 foot Kebler Pass there was nearly a mile of climbing to do.<br />
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The climbing was tough, but every pedal stroke took me up a little higher into cooler air with more shade. My fatigue was significant, but the scenery was so amazing! I had driven the Kebler Pass road before, but never pedaled it. I'm here to tell you, pedaling it is the way to go. So much to see, such a beautiful cruise through the West Elk range.<br />
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Arriving at the pass was wonderful. Lots of cheers, photos being snapped, and the promise of a long smooth downhill into Crested Butte where beers and food were waiting. When I rolled in to the finish a band was playing and a crowd of bike people were strolling around in the green grass. It was a wonderful finish to a great day on the bike. I got to catch up with lots of old friends, ate some amazing food, drank perfectly cold beer and heard some great music.<br />
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Perfect day, can't wait to line up this year!<br />
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<img alt="view from CO92" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/westElkBib.jpg" />Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-19695480088422177772016-03-20T07:22:00.000-06:002016-03-22T13:14:06.517-06:00Two Years with my Sweet Little DogOn the evening of March 20, 2014 I stopped at Kenosha Pass to let the dog I was adopting have a chance to relieve herself. We had left the <a href="http://foothillsanimalshelter.org/" target="_blank">Foothills Shelter</a> in Golden around 6 PM, Vicki had been on the floor of the passenger seat in my truck. She didn't seem particularly frightened, more like apathetic. She didn't look at me unless I spoke to her. She let me touch her, but didn't seem to either dislike or enjoy it.<br />
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<img alt="Vicki on Kenosha on the way home" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/pets/comingHomeFromTheShelterKenosha.jpg" />
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I was worried that I may have made a poor decision. I hadn't been looking for another dog with baggage. This time I was going to get a fun-loving, unafraid, non-aggressive, easy buddy dog. I wanted a herding dog. I was thinking of maybe a heeler that had been born on a ranch but just hadn't turned out to be a great herder. I was checking ranch-country pet shelters and breed-specific rescue organizations. But also there are pet-finder sites, and Mara (Vicki's slave name) popped up often.<br />
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Turns out, the people at the Foothills Shelter were working hard to find homes for their animals. Vicki's sad little face was on all the relevant pet-finder sites. Foothills stood out as an organization that was really doing a good job. My questions were answered quickly and completely.<br />
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So it all seemed right, except that this dog I'd gone to meet was too scared of me to let me touch her unless I had a biscuit in my hand. These good people gave me a chance to back out on adopting her, and they promised that I could bring her back if it didn't work out. I looked at this scared little dog and decided she deserved a chance. Might not be the easiest for me, but she at least should have the chance to be in my home for a while and see if she can feel like it's her home.<br />
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<img alt="Vicki on Kenosha on the way home" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/pets/vickiFirstDayHomeScared.jpg" />
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Here's my little girl on her first morning in my house. The rawhide bone and toy she refused to acknowledge are on the floor. She watched me warily for the first several days. When I gave her a treat I could touch her briefly before she slipped away to eat it. If she had been adopted by a woman it might have been an easier transition. I know now that men are often seen as threatening to her but women rarely.<br />
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Slowly she started to loosen up a little around me. She would let me touch her head. After a few more days of feeding her I could reach down and scratch her chest. But always this touching happened when all four of her feet were on the ground. Sometimes she would suddenly bolt away.<br />
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One day after a couple weeks, we were in my back yard after having gone for a short hike. I was sitting on the ground talking to her and petting her head. Retaining eye contact the entire time, she slowly laid over and rolled onto her back, for the first time inviting me to scratch her chest and belly. We had a good long belly rub.<br />
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At some point around the same time, I realized that she actually does have a tail. Her tail was docked, so she has only a short stubby one. One day I said something to her and there it was, a stubby little tail popped up and wagged around. She had been keeping it tucked down the whole time she'd been with me.<br />
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<img alt="Rainbow Trail" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/pets/vickiRainbow2015-10-25.jpg" />
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There were always setbacks. The fear in her will always be there. Even as there were more belly rubs and tail-wiggling, every once in a while something will spook her and for a time her eyes will go wild with fear. I learned to keep an eye on her body language, and to help her react more confidently to things that come up. I learned that she cannot tolerate being held and kept from moving. I learned the hard way not to grasp her collar and hold on.<br />
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She was completely indifferent to toys and play, like tug-of-war or fetching a ball. I would give her a plush toy and she would just look at it and then at me. But at some point, probably more than 6 months after she came to me, she started being interested in toys. At first she just carried them around, now she excitedly tears into them as soon as I give her one. Fetch isn't a big thing for her, but sometimes she'll play along. She loves tug-of-war now, with lots of fake growling and being swung around off the ground.<br />
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<img alt="West Maroon Pass Trail" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/pets/vickiMaroonPassTrail2-2015.jpg" />
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About a year ago she made a leap. She became a whole level more confident and able to relate to people other than me. Much of that is a credit to friends of mine and hers who worked really hard to earn her trust. My friend Nate crouched down and spoke to her and let her sniff his hand for almost a year on a nearly daily basis. And one day, she stepped two steps closer and let him put a hand on her head. After that, Nate was OK. After Nate was OK, more of the people she sees often could be trusted to be close enough to pet her.<br />
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<img alt="Fresh snow Salida" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/pets/vickiInFreshSnow.jpg" />
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She and I have bonded very tightly. She is very important to me, a member of my family. I love her deeply. People who know us know how devoted we are to each other. She looks to me for protection. She wants to go where I'm going without being called or leashed. She sleeps with me, and every night spends about a minute carefully licking my face before we both settle in to sleep. I love to see her tiny little tail pop up and wiggle, see her excitement over toys and playing.<br />
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She's really easy, other than the occasional piece of clothing or personal object that she chews. She was a little over a year old when I picked her up from the shelter. She had been pregnant, her teats and mammory glands were still enlarged. For a herding dog of her age, she is amazingly calm and attentive. She's an old soul. I never need to raise my voice. She never runs off unless I fail to control something that scares her.<br />
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I can't imagine life without my little dog. These two years have only been the beginning of a long, close friendship.<br />
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<br />Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-32831943718609334942016-03-10T11:31:00.002-07:002016-03-10T11:39:14.962-07:00Tailwind NutritionFor 2016 I have been selected to be a <a href="http://www.tailwindnutrition.com/" target="_blank">Tailwind Trailblazer</a>! I'm honored to be an ambassador for this product that has done so much to enable my success. What is it?<br />
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Very simply it is Endurance Fuel.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5klnL6SnvL8/VuG0YbudQpI/AAAAAAAAB2E/QFeF5YBwdsA/s1600/125X125logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5klnL6SnvL8/VuG0YbudQpI/AAAAAAAAB2E/QFeF5YBwdsA/s1600/125X125logo.jpg" /></a></div>
How did I come to be a Tailwind zealot?<br />
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Nutrition and Hydration is one of the key areas that an endurance athlete needs to master in order to be successful. As a cyclist, I've been pushing my limits for nearly 15 years now. When I entered my first Leadville 100 in 2005, I had been riding big all-day rides but I was still a total novice. I was experimenting and learning with training, recovery, race day tactics, and nutrition/hydration.<br />
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Nutrition was a problem for me. Friends would often use plain food like peanut butter and jelly or burritos successfully, but for me that kind of food would sit in my stomach and do more harm than good. I tried some popular sport nutrition products with a certain amount of success. But almost without exception, the philosophy behind those products included the strong assertion that you need to have a source of protein in addition to carbohydrates and electrolytes.<br />
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I believed this, and there was science to back it up. But all the sources of protein I tried made me feel lousy. Soy protein was terrible for me, and through my experiments using it during big 8+ hour efforts I learned that my body hates soya in general. So then I tried powdered rice protein. Fail. Eggs cooked and rolled in a tortilla or a mini croissant. Better, but still something I would eat that would set me back until I could finish digesting it.<br />
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In the summer of 2012 I was riding in the <a href="https://coloradoes.wordpress.com/swes-event-list/durango-dirty-century-ddc/" target="_blank">Durango Dirty Century</a>. It happened that Tailwind was being offered at the aid stations. I filled a bottle and went on my way. The DDC is a <b>huge</b> effort (one that proved to be beyond me that year), and my body was stressed. That bottle of Tailwind tasted great, and while I was drinking it I felt good. When it was gone and I went back to whatever it was I was using then, I missed it. I filed that information away.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y_hSz3ox0lE/VuG81zhBXmI/AAAAAAAAB2Y/QZFmQ-x8yWg/s1600/TomOldPueblo2013-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y_hSz3ox0lE/VuG81zhBXmI/AAAAAAAAB2Y/QZFmQ-x8yWg/s320/TomOldPueblo2013-6.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Later in 2012 I signed up for a Solo spot at the 2013 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo. As I started to ramp up my training in early winter I decided to try a new nutrition/hydration strategy based on a product I had sampled at Durango Dirty Century. I went to the website and read about the product. A little way down the page I came to a section about protein. Here's how it started:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #312e29; font-family: "monda" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 21px;">"We researched it. We tested it. We asked experts about it, so you don’t have to. Protein during exercise doesn’t improve endurance, but it does correlate with GI distress."</span><br />
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Holy cow! There it is! Permission to skip the protein, with science to back it up! My experience completely confirmed what I was reading. My most successful endurance achievements to date had happened on days when I (guiltily) skipped the protein. Now I could see that protein had been costing my body during big efforts. My gut tried to break it down into something useful, but the chemistry isn't there. It doesn't get broken down into anything useful, and it takes energy and water for your body to try.<br />
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Tailwind Nutrition was offering a deal where if you bought a fairly large lot of product and then named an event that you had signed up for, Tailwind would refund your money if the product let you down. It was a pretty big buy, but I felt like the refund deal would help me out if it didn't work. And the philosophy behind the product spoke to me. So I took the risk and ordered a bunch of it.<br />
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Old Pueblo went really well for me, and I used Tailwind exclusively. Well, full disclosure: I had a Trader Joe's carrot cake cookie at midnight. But it sat in my stomach for the next lap!<br />
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That was it, I was officially a Tailwind athlete. I went on in 2013 to have probably my strongest season ever as a 49-year-old. Now, 4 years later Tailwind is a core part of my training and racing. My body loves it. Back in the bad old days I had to carry so many different things to support my nutrition. Among other things, I always had a little film can of sea salt crystals, because no electrolyte source I ever found before Tailwind was enough, especially on a hot day.<br />
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So now I'm a Trailblazer. You'll hear me going on about Tailwind on this blog and on social media. Have questions, or would like a sample? Let me know.<br />
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<br />Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-59381432763992438772016-01-01T10:46:00.000-07:002016-01-02T16:31:33.029-07:00New Years Day should be December 22But whatever. We have to pick some day to mark the end of one year and the beginning of another. Since we rock the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gregorian_calendar" target="_blank">Gregorian calendar</a>, it makes a certain amount of practical sense to end the year at the end of the 12th month.<br />
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<img alt="Vicki on New Years Eve 2015" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/vickiNewYears2015.jpg" />
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To me it makes more sense to start when the sun's light, like a seed, begins to grow. The end and simultaneously the beginning of the year is immediately at the solstice.<br />
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It's natural at this time to remember the past and consider the future. But it's also a time when, at least for those of us who live more than 37.0000° N, the reduced photo period and chillier temperatures can have an effect on one's state of being. I think a focus on looking forward might be more effective around the vernal equinox. Let's all spend winter drinking whiskey and fat biking.<br />
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But what evs, for now I'm feeling like doing a little 2015 Greatest Hits. Monthwise. Lotsa pikturs.<br />
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January</h3>
I got a Kona Wo fatbike at the end of 2014. In January 2015, at least according to what kind of pictures I was taking, my life was about going snow-biking with my dog. She likes it, I like it. Everybody wins.<br />
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<img alt="up poncha road" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/starvationTHsnowBikeJan2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Up the Poncha Creek Road</span><br />
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<img alt="up marshall road" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/vickiSnowBikeMarshallRoadJan2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">A sunny day up the Marshall Pass Road near O'Haver</span><br />
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February</h3>
My parents have been living in the Coachella Valley of California in the cold months for 20 years. In that time I've taken part with my Dad in an event called the Tour de Palm Springs probably 15 or more times. We did it the first year they put it on, and it became something of a tradition that I would visit in February and we would do the ride. Dad introduced me to distance riding back in the 70s when I was just a little kid--we did century rides. My first was in 1974 when I was 10.<br />
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This year my folks have changed their living arrangements and no longer live in the Coachella Valley. I probably will never ride that event again.<br />
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<img alt="Tour de Palm start" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/tourDePalmSprings2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The start, ~7 AM Valentine's Day 2015</span><br />
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<img alt="Snow Bikeen" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/snowBikeFeb2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">And then some late February snow-biking back home!</span><br />
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March</h3>
2015 was a rebuilding year for me. 2014 was frankly a <a href="http://teamvelveeta.tom-purvis.com/2014/12/cruising-to-end-of-tough-year.html" target="_blank">shit show</a>. A motorcycle accident in May cost me dearly in terms of health. And confidence. And it had to be the same year I turned 50. It felt like I'd gone through a gate; youth on one side, middle age on the other. And the AARP sent me an invitation to join!<br />
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In March of 2015 I got a glimmer of excitement about getting my body strong again. The snow-biking had helped me stay a little fitter than a typical winter. I was fat, sure. But at least I could get my heart beating fast without wanting to vomit. <a href="http://teamvelveeta.tom-purvis.com/2015/03/back-at-it-baby.html" target="_blank">So I started making plans and goals, and I started working a little harder</a>.<br />
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<img alt="Poncha Pass" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/ponchaPassRoadRideMarch2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Not so many pictures from March. This is what it was about.</span><br />
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April</h3>
In April I kept after it. A typical weekend day would see me walking or riding with Vicki for an hour or two then riding by myself for 4+. Not a lot of pictures! Growing my endurance base, and enjoying the feeling that you get from building a broken body back into a capable body.<br />
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<img alt="Penitente" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/penitenteMtnBikeApril2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Penitente</span><br />
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May</h3>
As the leaves started popping and the snow started to recede up the mountainsides, I was clawing my way up. Up toward the Divide. I was aching to ride all the way from my house to the Continental Divide. If I heard a rumor that a trail was dry or close to it, I would get up there and see for myself. Every glimpse of a place I never visited in 2014 was a treat. I was insatiable.<br />
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<img alt="Rainbow Methodist" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/rainbowMethodistMay2015.jpg" /><span style="font-size: x-small;">Rainbow Trail, Methodist. May 2nd. Barely clear. But clear enough.
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<img alt="tree down" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/treeDownRainbowMay2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Cleared a <b>lot </b>of trees this Spring. I was into it! So nice to be part of the world of trails again!</span><br />
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June</h3>
The Salida Big Friggin' Loop is a race/ride I've been putting on for several years. Due to a comedy of errors, I had never finished it. That was one of the things in March that I decided. Gol-dammer, gonna ride that gol-dang SBFL. I did that. I finished that. Then I got to the Divide. June was a winner month for me. Almost everything I did <a href="http://teamvelveeta.tom-purvis.com/2015/06/reclamation.html" target="_blank">outside in June was joyful</a>.<br />
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<img alt="on the Divide" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/topOfSilverCreekJune2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">On the Continental Divide again at last. About to descend back down to Salida.</span><br />
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<img alt="Silver Creek Trail" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/silverCreekDandelionsJune2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Silver Creek Trail with happy dandelions.</span><br />
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July</h3>
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Summer was rich and green. Colors were saturated. A wet spring and early summer. Hard on the bike parts but easy on the eyes. As soon as the high country would allow it, my bike and I got up there. </div>
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<img alt="rainbow wet" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/rainyRainbowJuly2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Rainbow after rain squall.</span><br />
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<img alt="rainbow lush" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/lushRainbowJuly2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Silver Creek Trail with spring color</span><br />
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<img alt="canyon creek" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/canyonCreekJuly2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Canyon Creek, way up high. July 12 and still snow drifts.</span><br />
<br />
Then at the very end of July, Thursday the 30th. I made an ITT attempt on the VT125 course. I failed, miserably. With a huge smile on my face. <a href="http://teamvelveeta.tom-purvis.com/2015/08/a-contrived-failure-and-clear-win.html" target="_blank">It was awesome.</a> The best experience of my year. The best. Thank you universe.<br />
<h3>
August</h3>
The <a href="http://teamvelveeta.tom-purvis.com/2015/08/a-contrived-failure-and-clear-win.html" target="_blank">overnight adventure I undertook at the end of July</a> released me. Since March I had been exploring and visiting places, but with big miles. I would often hire somebody to look after Vicki on a weekend day so I could ride 8+ hours. Once I had proven to myself that I was back, that my body could do whatever I asked if I worked hard, I was satisfied. I felt free to plan my weekends around fun. No longer compelled to have so much time in the saddle for the sake of fitness.<br />
<br />
The first weekend in August, I took my dog to hike the West Maroon trail to Frigid Air Pass. So beautiful, and especially so as part of a wet summer.<br />
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<img alt="columbine at dawn" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/columbineSunriseAugust2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Columbine with morning dew</span><br />
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<img alt="west maroon trail" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/vickiWestMaroonAugust2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Vicki on the West Maroon trail</span><br />
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<img alt="on frigid air pass" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/frigidAirPassAugust2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Vicki and I on Frigid Air Pass</span><br />
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I visited my parents in Michigan. It was nice. I so rarely see my home state, and it's always nice to spend a long weekend with my wonderful parents.<br />
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<img alt="michigan" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/lunchOnWaterMichiganAugust2015.jpg" />
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<h3>
September</h3>
I rode in the <a href="http://www.westelkbicycleclassic.com/" target="_blank">West Elk Classic</a> in September.
<br />
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<img alt="west elk roll out" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/selfPortrait/westElk2015-1.jpg" width="800" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Chilly morning, fast rollout. I am at the far right in my gray rain jacket.</span><br />
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<img alt="west elk" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/selfPortrait/westElk2015-3.jpg" width="800" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Such a beautiful day, what a great event!</span><br />
<br />
September has come to be a busy month for me. I help with the <a href="http://vaportrail125.com/" target="_blank">Vapor Trail 125</a>, and this year again helped with the <a href="http://salidabikefest.com/" target="_blank">Salida Bike Fest</a>. Then it was time to start scouting for elk! We had an amazingly long, mild, warm autumn. I wasn't too busy to enjoy it myself from time to time.<br />
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<img alt="silver creek color" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/silverCreekAutumn2015-1.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Same meadow on Silver Creek as one of the previous pictures, from when it was green.</span><br />
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<img alt="more silver creek color" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/silverCreekAutumn2015-2.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Glorious color</span><br />
<h3>
October</h3>
I rode a lap of the 12 Hours of Penitence, then crashed and remembered why I don't do lap races any more.<br />
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<img alt="finger" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/selfPortrait/tomp12PenitenceAfterCrashFinger.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Snacks and a beer, after I am promoted to spectator!</span><br />
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Elk hunting was a bust. It was in the 70s at 9000 feet during my whole season. Vicki and I did a lot of homework, but the weather that made the autumn so enjoyable for biking and hiking made it a difficult elk season. Guess that was good news for the elk!<br />
<br />
Certainly was a lovely, golden October.<br />
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<img alt="sangre wilderness" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/elkScoutSangreOctober2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Up in the Sangre de Christo Wilderness looking for elk poo</span><br />
<h3>
November</h3>
Mother nature continued to encourage the dog and I to explore outside. We hiked way up Dead Horse Gulch one day.<br />
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<img alt="dead horse" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/upDeadHorseGulchNovember2015.jpg" />
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Trail riding was stellar the whole month of November<br />
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<img alt="n backbone" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/northBackboneNovember2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">North Backbone</span><br />
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<img alt="cottonwood" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/cottonwoodTrailNovember2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Cottonwood got some new linkages this year. What an excellent ride it has become!</span><br />
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For the Thanksgiving holiday, Vicki and I traveled east and north to visit my sister and her family in Wisconsin. Moist and mild.<br />
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<img alt="Badger Trail" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/vickiRailTrailWI-November2015.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">A moist rail-trail in southern Wisconsin</span><br />
<h3>
December</h3>
The final month of this year turned wintry right away. Vicki rejoiced, the fatbike came out of the shadows in the back of the garage. Boo-yah! I've had trouble with winter in years past. Mainly the trouble has been me hating it. But Vicki has really helped. Seeing her enjoy it has made me more enthusiastic about getting her out there. And when I wasn't watching, it seems that I started enjoying it too!<br />
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<img alt="fsck summer" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/vickiLikesWinterDecember2015.jpg" width="800" />
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<img alt="tracked up" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/vickiWantsFreshiesDecember2015.jpg" width="800" /><br />
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It's been a good year. Not that there haven't been some problems and bummers. There have. But it's balanced. Keep looking for the good and sometimes you'll find the good.<br />
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Here's to everybody finding the good in this next trip around the sun!<br />
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<br />Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-74997030793625285362015-08-01T14:16:00.004-06:002015-08-23T08:26:12.379-06:00A Contrived Failure, and a Clear WinThursday, July 30, 2015 I worked like normal, but left around 3:30. Went home and started darting around, fussing with my pack and trying to make sure I was remembering everything. Then a little before 7 I rode down to the F Street Bridge to do an <i>offical</i> start.<br />
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<img alt="lining up with myself for ITT start" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/vaporITTstart.jpg" /><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">lining up with myself for ITT start
</span><br />
<br />
I had been planning for several weeks to make an attempt to finish a Vapor Trail 125 ITT. <a href="http://teamvelveeta.tom-purvis.com/2013/08/vapor-trail-125-on-my-own-terms-end-of.html" target="_blank">I did this in August of 2013</a>, and it was the hardest (physical) thing I had ever done.<br />
<br />
I was more or less satisfied after my finish in August. It was a feat of 1-day endurance that was good enough for me; I felt no compulsion to find a harder thing to trump a <a href="http://vaportrail125.com/" target="_blank">Vapor Trail 125</a> finish.<br />
<br />
But then <a href="http://teamvelveeta.tom-purvis.com/2014/12/cruising-to-end-of-tough-year.html" target="_blank">2014 happened</a>. I came into 2015 feeling like I could get fit again if I could put in some work, but something like a VT125 ITT felt like one of the things I could do before the accident, and when I was younger. But those days were past.<br />
<br />
Some time this spring, I got the fire again to ride far and push my own limits. I finished the <a href="http://teamvelveeta.tom-purvis.com/2015/06/reclamation.html" target="_blank">Salida Big Friggin' Loop</a>, which opened my mind to the possibility that maybe I <i>could </i>finish another ITT. Once I had that thought, I knew I was going to need to try. I upped my training and then picked a date.<br />
<br />
I borrowed a GoPro in order to document the experience, so I have some footage. Futzing around with the GoPro cost me some time, but I'm happy I did it because I have some good footage.<br />
<br />
The ride started with a warm evening. It was a little cloudy, but looked like a normal nice summer evening. Right away Mother Nature let me know that she controlled the game with 20 minutes of good hard rain. The smell of ozone was in the air, but thankfully no lightning. But I went from a little too warm to damp and chilled. By the time I got to dirt after the first 40 minutes or so the rain was a memory and I started to dry off and get warm again.<br />
<br />
Creatures started showing themselves to me. First it was rabbits and other rodents. Then a mule deer doe. And then, before I had even gotten above 9,000 feet elevation I saw a cow elk who looked like she'd just come from a salon. Beautiful healthy coat, standing in good grass and vibrant flowers. Our land is bursting with fertility this summer, and this huge animal looked like she'd been eating grain and alfalfa all summer.<br />
<br />
My buddy Ryan met me just as I got to the Colorado Trail. He'd been on an adventure all day, all the way from Cotopaxi to Monarch Pass, then the CDT over Chalk Pass and on to the Tincup Road. Then all of the Colorado Trail from Chalk Creek to Blanks where we met. He knew I was going to be out there, so he'd arranged to find me on his way home as I was on my way out. That was cool, great to see a friend as the last light faded. He was just finishing up a huge day and I think he waited around at the trailhead to see me.<br />
<br />
As I started my night and the Colorado Trail singletrack, light rain fell for about 20 minutes, but not enough to soak me. Just enough to make things nice and cool, and to remind me about who really controls the night (Mother Nature). I had borrowed a light from a really cool guy Jay Buthman who has a company called <a href="http://amoebalight.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Amoeba</a>. I'd always been curious about his lights, and didn't have a great solution for my helmet mounted light. Jay sent me a demo unit, which is so cool. I hadn't had a chance to mount and test it in darkness, and had to tinker around a little to get it right, but damn, what a light! Made the tech chunk on the CO Trail all the more fun. And made my own bar mounted light seem pretty weak!<br />
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Here's a video of me pushing up the first hard hike-a-bike, which is about 15 minutes into the CO Trail section (2 minutes):<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AAGCLN_-XBs" width="420"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
Here's a video showing some of the trail riding, smooth:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4Pc1Gp3KvKQ" width="420"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
Here's a video showing some of the trail riding, chunk:<br />
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<div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QQoCXeSGepk" width="420"></iframe>
</div>
<br />
That section of CO Trail is probably my favorite night ride; challenging parts, smooth parts, beautiful woods and creeks. I took enough water to get to my next water stop at Canyon Creek from Browns Creek. Wonderful tasting clear water.<br />
<br />
I should mention that for this entire effort, starting from a couple hours before I left, I was feeding using <a href="http://www.tailwindnutrition.com/" target="_blank">Tailwind Nutrition</a> powder. I had a supply that I used to mix and refill my water bottle from the clear water in my <a href="http://www.ospreypacks.com/" target="_blank">Osprey</a> hydration pack. I used their caffeinated product through the night and switched to normal after dawn. I was using a <a href="http://www.steripen.com/" target="_blank">Steripen </a>to sterilize the water, since it was absolutely gin-clear but certainly carrying some beaver fever. I don't take water from creeks that flow out of <a href="https://www.hcn.org/articles/when-our-river-turned-orange-animas-river-spill" target="_blank">mining districts</a>.<br />
<br />
I felt really good during that whole trail section, and popped out onto the road to St Elmo at midnight feeling strong. Time to get to work knocking out that climb to the divide. Three hours of constant, relentless climbing. No way to get it done other than to get started and keep going.<br />
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Stayed on task relentlessly from Cascade all the way to the bottom of the trail up to Altman Pass (Alpine Tunnel). When I got there I had my first crisis of fatigue. When you do these things, there typically come times when the effort gut punches you. I couldn't catch my breath. My legs were aching and shaking. I had probably pushed too hard up from Cascade.<br />
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On this course, when you get to the divide you better take stock. Continuing means you're over on the west side of the divide in a wild, remote place. There is no help or cell service and no easy way home once you're over there. If you go over there you better be ready to work. Even turning around heading home from the Alpine Tunnel means a two-hour ride home. If there's any question about where you're at, it's time to do a full diagnostic.<br />
<br />
Luckily, I was unwilling to turn around without at least making it to the continental divide. I pushed the bike up there, and by the time I got to the top I could catch my breath, even though I'd just pushed hard for 20 minutes over rocks and up slippery gravel. That made me happy. I had gone from beaten to back in the game. That's key to finishing something big. Down times will happen, but you can beat them if you try. Or you can let them take you down.<br />
<br />
I made it up and over to the west side, rode the railroad grade road down about 2 miles to where the Tomichi Pass Road branches off to the south. From there, it was time to push the bike for two hours. I had a nearly full moon, but clouds kept it mostly obscured. Until I was stumbling over the bowling balls of the Tomichi Pass Road. Suffering in moonlight, and stoked to be there.<br />
<br />
On this adventure, I felt that my fitness for hike-a-bike was solid. HAB is never fun, but I was able to tolerate a lot of effort and kept it going very well. There is a TON of HAB on the night-time part of the Vapor Trail 125, and in years past it gutted me. But I've been hiking more, and riding more primitive stuff on my recreational rides.<br />
<br />
I made the summit of Granite Mountain right around 5:30. Pink light on the eastern horizon, beginnings of daylight, but still not enough ambient light to ride without lights. Here's a video where I can be heard explaining the nature of the risk as I begin my descent.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/iMROorrThxU" width="560"></iframe>
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As I began my descent, I noticed that some kind of noisy birds were squawking as I went past. I was apparently disturbing them too early. Then I heard much more animal noise up on a ridge to the west. I looked up and saw this:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Znegj-byY40" width="560"></iframe>
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Amazing! What a privilege to be in that wild place at that time of day in mid-summer!<br />
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In another mile the trail came close to the creek. A high mountain creek, just below the headwaters. Gin clear and cold. It probably didn't need to be sterilized, but I gave it the steripen treatment. Don't need me no beaver fever.<br />
<br />
Canyon Creek is a long, challenging descent with a painful punchy 15-20 minute climb at the end. The descending part, for somebody with my skill and risk tolerance, is well over an hour. That descent at first light has been the setting for bad crashes for me two different times. This time I made it down in decent time, unscathed, and had a blast. Success!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9wYeLjdOAxM" width="420"></iframe>
<br />
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Making it to Snowblind Campground where the Canyon Creek trail ends, is a huge milestone as part of the Vapor course. It's a transition. Made it through the night and getting ready to tackle the day. Lube your chain. Take off a layer. Steel yourself for one of the two remaining long climbs on the Vapor Trail 125.<br />
<br />
The 2,500 foot ascent of Old Monarch Pass. You finish Canyon Creek with a sense of elation. Old Monarch Pass road replaces that elation with exhaustion. It's relentless. Not a terrible climb when you're fresh, but after the night portion of the Vapor course, it's a soul-crusher. But without help from somebody who has a vehicle, you have no choice for getting home but to tackle it.<br />
<br />
I know from past attempts, best thing to do with the Old Monarch climb is just to get to work and stay on task. Don't let it get to you. I did as well as could possibly be expected, but I was tired and the Old Monarch grind took a toll. A high point was seeing two more cow elk just a mile or so above the valley floor. I looked into the woods and saw what my brain first identified as horses. Because they looked like they'd been curried. Maybe it was my semi-hallucinatory sleep deprived state, but I tell you, those critters looked <b>healthy</b>. Fat and happy like a domesticated ungulate.<br />
<br />
I was deep into my keep-moving-and-don't-think-about-quitting mode. When you make the Old Monarch summit there's a strong urge roll on over the top and point it down. If you want to finish you have to put that out of your mind. Descending on the highway sux. What a waste of all that climbing, with so many good descending trails.<br />
<br />
I rode the singletrack link from Old Monarch Pass to Monarch Pass. My inner dialog during the latter part of the climb and the link over to Monarch Pass was about how I would be OK with it if I decided to just do Starvation Creek then call it a good effort and head home. Or maybe I'd rally (the Crest Trail can be quite a kick in the junk when you really need it) and want to take on the last 3-4 hours after finishing Starvation. Either way, I had no doubt that I had 15 miles to the Starvation trailhead in me. I wasn't even thinking about bailing down 50.<br />
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As I started climbing past the tram on Monarch I felt deep fatigue. Nauseating heart-pounding dead legs fatigue. As soon as I hit the steep part of the first jeep road climb I had to jump off and push. It only got worse. I knew I was properly hydrated and my nutrition was good. This wasn't a bonk. I hoped it was just a low point that I'd ride through.<br />
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There was a threatening dark cloud ahead, even though it was only around 10:30 I was concerned about getting caught and considered taking the first exit, Fooses Creek down. Before too much longer I decided to take Fooses regardless, because it was only a couple miles away and I was shelled.<br />
<br />
Then the bottom fell out. I walked through a ride-able rocky section. When I tried to re-mount the bike, my balance was bad. I had the staggers. A couple of novice riders were catching me, so I got off the trail and sat. Did I have enough energy left to get to Fooses? A couple miles maybe, 300 feet of climbing?<br />
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Then I thought, is it even safe for me to try to descend on singletrack? I'm kind of a shit show, stacking way up on the Colorado Trail would not be an ideal way to end this adventure.<br />
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As disappointing as it was to forgo one more singletrack descent, my practical mind kicked in. Nope. Go home. It's been a memorable experience. It's been a huge success. 80 miles already, nearly 30 more just to get home on the highway. Visions of pre-dawn in a wild place. The memory of a mouse running across the Colorado Trail last night as I floated through the night.<br />
<br />
Why risk tarnishing all this goodness? I had already happily capitulated to the reality that trying to finish would be un-fun. I was fine with that, why get greedy about the end of the ride?<br />
<br />
So I rode down.<br />
<br />
My fitness is very good, and I'm very grateful that I've gotten back from my injury. From the way this ride went, it's obvious to me that the capability is there--it would just take deeper training. In 2013, the year I did this successfully, I had already done a 24 solo, the Durango Dirty Century, the Redneck Epic, Dirty Double Fondo, etc. This year I've done some great riding, lots of very long days, but nothing like the endurance base I had by August of 2013. This was a nice big chunk of training too, beyond all the other wonderfulness that it was.<br />
<br />
I pushed through several low places, and got myself home without needing or taking any assistance. I had logistics covered, meaning I never needed something that wasn't in my pack. You can forget how to prepare for these things, and that can mess you up just as badly as lack of fitness.<br />
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I needed to know how much two more years of age and a big injury had taken. Answer, not enough to matter.<br />
<br />
That's a win. Solid win. I put more golden memories into the bank. I made an adventure. And I satisfied my inner critic. For now.<br />
<br />
Hot damn.Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-1435251503710232022015-07-26T18:26:00.000-06:002015-07-26T18:27:45.209-06:00July 2015 High Country ImagesWe are having a beautiful year.<br />
<br />
In winter it was cold. Spring brought an unusual amount of moisture; snow, rain, slush--it was wet.<br />
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Summer has been very dynamic. Big thunderstorms, then hot and clear for a while, then a week's worth of rainy afternoons.<br />
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The land is busting out with life. Green grass, happy sagebrush, flowers, mushrooms.<br />
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Here are some of my pictures from July adventuring.<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/UpperGreensCreek-7-11-2015.jpg" /><br />
Greens Creek<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/Columbine-7-11-2015.jpg" /><br />
Pretty columbine on Greens<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/GraniteMtnOverlook1-7-12-2015.jpg" /><br />
The view down toward Whitepine from Granite Mountain, Canyon Creek Trail<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/GraniteOverlook2-7-12-2015.jpg" /><br />
Looking north toward the Alpine Tunnel and Brittle Silver Basin from Granite Mountain, Canyon Creek Trail.<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/CraigOnGraniteMtn-7-12-2015.jpg" /><br />
My buddy Craig checking out my bike, top of Granite Mountain, Canyon Creek Trail.<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/GraniteMtnYeti-7-12-2015.jpg" /><br />
Looking south from Granite Mountain.<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/CanyonCreekUpper-7-12-2015.jpg" /><br />
On the way down from Granite Mountain, upper Canyon Creek Trail<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/CrestRide1-7-18-2015.jpg" /><br />
Another day, another bike ride. Crest Trail.<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/CrestRide2-7-18-2015.jpg" /><br />
Crest Trail, new friend Taylor cresting a climb<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/SilverCreek1-7-18-2015.jpg" /><br />
New friend Denise on Silver Creek Trail<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/SilverCreek2-7-18-2015.jpg" /><br />
Denise going past and Taylor rolling on Silver Creek Trail<br />
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<img alt="" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/Rainbow-7-18-2015.jpg" /><br />
Taylor finishing one of the hundred climbs on the Rainbow Trail near Mear's Junction.<br />
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Get out there. The rockies in Southern CO have never been prettier.<br />
<br />Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-82631287951740899462015-07-05T08:34:00.002-06:002015-07-06T08:56:00.443-06:00Describing my favorite rideWhen summer comes and high country snow recedes, I start venturing up into my happy place on my bike. Between Mt Ouray and Mt Antora there there is a high basin with a series of drainages, two of them with trails following down. There are two good climbing routes: the Marshall Pass Road and the Poncha Creek Road. Silver Creek and Starvation Creek have trails following them and they are born at the Divide and complete their runs to drain into Poncha Creek within a relatively short distance.
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<br />
I love to start from my house in Salida on my mountain bike and ride to Marshall Pass. From there a number of adventures are possible. Down Silver Creek or Starvation Creek then back to town the way I came. Or backwards south to north on the Monarch Crest Trail, to descend Greens or Fooses and return to home using highway 50. Or Agate Creek. Or something else I dream up.<br />
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Every adventure up there is different. Weather, riding companions, animals encountered; all of these things make the ride unique.<br />
<br />
Since it's such a favorite place of mine, I thought I might dedicate a blog post to deconstructing a ride into the shadow of Ouray (photo album at bottom of page).<br />
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Start with 5 miles of Salida town and County Road 120. Elevation change is roughly 7100 feet to 7500 feet. Then 5 miles of climbing toward Poncha Pass and the Marshall Pass Road. It's a good wide highway with a breakdown lane to ride in, but lots of traffic. Elevation change is roughly 7500 to 8200. An hour or hour and fifteen minutes of pavement, and I turn right onto the gravel Marshall Pass Road, Chaffee County Road 200.<br />
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Marshall Pass is 15 miles away and 2,500 feet higher. The road starts in Piñon/Juniper and grass with the occasional ponderosa pine. The first 3 miles are pretty flat, but climbing is constant all the way from Salida to the Pass. The three miles bring you to an intersection at a place known as the Shirley Site. There was a town here at one time over 100 years ago, but now it's a parking area with a latrine. There are three ways to proceed up from Shirley. County Road 201 goes south and then west up the Silver Creek drainage. Poncha Creek Road goes west, and a mile up the railroad grade curves around back to the east to begin snaking its way up toward Marshall. Poncha Creek Road takes the straightline approach to get to the same place, going more or less straight without regard to steepness.<br />
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Sometimes I go up Silver Creek Road and ride only the Rainbow Trail then back to town. But my favorite is to follow the railroad grade. That's what I did on July 3, 2015. As I left Salida that day it was cool, humid and overcast. I was planning for the clouds to burn off, but prepared for whatever the mountain had in mind for me.<br />
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Half way up the 5 miles of highway 285 it started to rain on me. After 10 minutes of rain, I considered turning around to ride something lower rather than suffering in rain all day. It looked like it was settling in, and might rain all day. I actually slowed and looked for a gap in traffic to turn around, then thought, "Ah, what the hell. Might as well keep going. I'm already up here."<br />
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When I got to the Marshall Pass Road, it was wet and to the west it looked much more wet. I stuck with my plan, because I'd already climbed the pavement part and it wasn't raining hard enough yet to turn me back. If there's anything I've learned about these mountains, it's that you can't tell what the weather will ultimately do based on what it's doing right now. So I kept rolling over the moist gravel.<br />
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When I got to the Shirley site there were lots of puddles and the brush and trees were shining with moisture. But blue sky had appeared on the western horizon. My wager had paid off. It was burning off, and as I rolled up the railroad grade the aroma of happy wet sage filled the air.<br />
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The railroad grade is a wonderful aerobic climb. And much of it rolls through a tunnel of aspen that goes on and on. So beautiful. I often see bighorn sheep, and the road is littered with old rusting railroad spikes.<br />
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After 15 miles of dirt road and over three hours on the bike I emerge at the pass. Now singletrack! Between the ~4 miles of Continental Divide Trail/Colorado Trail from Marshall to Silver Creek, the ~6 miles of descending on the Silver Creek Trail, and the ~10 miles of Rainbow Trail, there are nearly 20 miles of classic Colorado trail ahead. The whole ride is a reward, but this section of trail-riding is what makes it world-class.<br />
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On July 3, 2015, I rode the traverse over to Silver and down Silver in lovely cool, sunny weather. Shortly after I emerged from Silver Creek to start the Rainbow, I noticed some clouds blowing in from the north. Before I'd gone 15 minutes down the Rainbow the rain started. Five minutes later I was hunkered down in cover with lightning flashing and cracking overhead. It rained hard and there was lots of electricity, then it gradually moved off to the south.<br />
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When I started moving again, I found a trail that was more puddle than not. The muddy water sprayed all over me and my bike. Total mess. But the sun was back out and everything was green and cool. So we went from overcast to rain to sun to storm back to sun. Typical day up in the shadow of Ouray. This particular ride took me 7 hours, 55 miles, over a mile of cumulative climbing.<br />
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I finished, a muddy man who was almost out of water, rolling down the highway sometimes hitting 40 mph, then back to town on County Road 120. Home to my dog, a shower, and a pint of Ben and Jerry's. Typical day up to the divide on the bike. Bliss.<br />
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<embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&captions=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=https%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2F103792911297042686741%2Falbumid%2F6168002173064416385%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US" height="400" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="https://photos.gstatic.com/media/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="600"></embed>Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166668597557557578.post-9471744373285995032015-06-27T18:25:00.001-06:002015-06-27T18:26:47.874-06:00Am I a Hundie Guy? Why?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Today I was up in my happy place riding my bike. </div>
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When I left the house this morning I was planning to climb to Marshall Pass and then climb backwards up the Crest trail to the top of Greens and down. I figured there would be snow, but passable. Messy.</div>
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As I rolled through town on the way to CR120 I thought about it. Up to Greens and down seemed short. It would be trail I haven't seen since 2013 so it qualifies, but it seemed short for a beautiful early summer day with an early start. A more worthy ride would be Marshall and then Starvation Creek, then <b>back up</b> the Silver Creek road to do the Rainbow. <b>That's </b>a hard ride. So before I hit the city limits my plan had switched.</div>
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Starvation was amazing. Early summer beauty. Everything wet and mossy. But it was also strenuous, more than I remembered. Especially since I couldn't keep myself from clearing half a dozen blowdowns.</div>
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As I got down to the junction with Poncha Creek I was thinking about calling it a day and heading home rather than taking on the hour climb back up to the Rainbow trailhead. I was tired. It was hot and getting hotter.</div>
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"Well," I sez to myself. "Well, if I go home right now it's just a bike ride. But if I suck it up and climb up and ride that trail, then it's a 60-miler with over a mile of climbing. That's an accomplishment."</div>
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So here's the thing that popped into my head. <b>Why does it need to be an accomplishment?</b> And I chewed on that during the hot dusty climb up the Silver Creek Road...</div>
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Some of my heroes are the people who do the Big Multi-Day Rides like the TD (wow what a finish for the men's field last night!) When I grow up I want to be Eszter Horanyi or Jefe Branham or Mike Curiak. What they do and have done really inspires me. I have half the gear I need to get into that game, and friends tease me for how often I've declared that I'm going to get out touring, but never do.</div>
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Most of those heroes of mine <i>graduated </i>from the Big One-Day Rides like Leadville, the Breck 100, and of course the daddy of them all, the <a href="http://www.vaportrail125.com/" target="_blank">Vapor Trail 125</a>.</div>
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I never graduated. I'm still stuck on the Big One-Day. And my little internal pep talk reminded me why.</div>
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I'm hooked on the banana split feeling. What, you say, is the banana split feeling? Well, it's this feeling you get after you do something hard and then your dad and his best friend Jerry take you to tastee freeze and buy you whatever you want. And they tell you they're proud of you. And you feel all settled, and satisfied. Like you did what you set out to do.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--vmHGpe8uS4/VY8y2kIlF6I/AAAAAAAABe0/EJsiTE7hpN0/s1600/P1000941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--vmHGpe8uS4/VY8y2kIlF6I/AAAAAAAABe0/EJsiTE7hpN0/s320/P1000941.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This should really be a Father's Day post, but it wasn't in my head yet. And Father's Day is just arbitrary. We shouldn't limit ourselves to thinking about our dads when Hallmark tells us we should.</div>
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Forty years ago. Forty plus. My dad and his friend Jerry Barringer got into riding bikes with gears and funny handlebars. Tony Barringer was my age and my friend too, so we had a posse. Check Tony out with that ridiculous hat! King of the Mountains theme.</div>
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<img alt="those were the days" src="http://tom-purvis.com/images/blogFoto/varsity.jpg" />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">That's me with the poo brown Schwinn Varsity with the yellow bar tape.
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So it started with riding to the next town to have a burger at the diner there. And then some longer rides, and then centuries.<br />
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What I really got thinking about today as I asked my tired body to work for just another couple hours instead of going home was that first one. My first century ride. I know I finished it on that Schwinn. I got a better bike, an Italian Torpado (with Campy!) using paper route money the next year. But that day, that banana split day, I was a little kid on a 48 pound steel throwback to a different era.<br />
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It was the Seaway Century out of Muskegon, Michigan. I can't honestly remember if it was 1974 when I was 10 or 1975 when I was eleven. I remember crying. I remember really caring about whether I was close enough to my dad's back wheel to be in his draft. And I remember the words. He didn't make me feel bad for crying. He just spoke to me evenly and we worked through the miles. I can't tell you what he said, but I'm pretty sure I remember what it meant.<br />
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That experience I think set up some basic wiring in me. There's something in me that likes getting up out of bed and facing a big challenge; to be dealt with and either completed or not before it's time to go to bed again. And then you eat ice cream. And hamburgers.<br />
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I think I'm going to go get some ice cream.<br />
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<br />Tom Purvishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02618754717562698898noreply@blogger.com0