PED, SM100 and 3 Weeks Ago

As if on cue, the Post Epic Depression set in this week. I talked it over with a couple friends and I think most of the problem comes from living in an empty house. You just don't get to tell the really detailed stories to your buddies when attention spans are limited so the finite highlights that serve to carry the stoke of an epic trip or experience never get told and I start to question if it was really that epic at all. When you don't have someone around at the end of the day asking, "Wow, I can't believe you were there, what was it like?" or "So tell me again about the bears, whales and otters...and the quiet morning with that bird..." it can fade all too quickly. It's hard not to button up the memory, pack it away and move onto the tasks at hand but if that happens I think there's some beauty that is lost and it makes me feel really lonely sometimes. I used to revel in my independence and solitude, how things change when you get older.

So what's a guy to do? Get back on the bike! Of course I picked the first day of real rain in the mid Atlantic region in weeks to go for a ride with Eatough but it still got me out of the house yesterday and put a smile on my mug. It had been a while since I rode with Chris and even on a slower 'spin' day the guy is quick.

The rain forced us off the trails, onto the road where we found a turtle waiting to get run over. Chris relocated it to the stream bank near his old house off Oella.

We finished our spin at a coffee shop in Ellicot City near his old house.

We ended up sipping coffee and chatting longer than we were on the bikes but what the hell, my legs feel great and at this point there's no use in overdoing it. Plus it was really good to catch up with Chris without having to film or worry about my heart rate. I just wish I brought money to score a cinnamon roll.

Today is another rainy day. Good for the land, bad for this camper's PED. So I'll drift back 3 weeks to the quick trip to Rochester for the big crit race. I got 2nd last year as a cat 5 and it was my first real crit so I was stoked. This year I signed up for the cat 3/4 race and wondered how I'd fare against 3's which are one cat down from semi-pro. I'm still not too savvy with all the road cats but I think that's correct. I really like racing on road bikes and have had much better results but I also like to poke fun at roadies because, well, they're roadies. I get a kick when a pro mt. biker jumps into a road race and blows people away (Take Todd Wells finishing 19th in last year's Tour of Georgia) but if you throw a roadie into a mt. bike race, unless it's Lance or Floyd who both raced mt. for years - let's just say it's fun for the spectators. Alas, I digress...

Cast your mind - 3 weeks ago...
As soon as I arrived home my buddy Dave ran us out for some proper pre-race fishing on Mendon Ponds, one of my all-time favorite places.


This is all we got



I was stoked to have my family, Dave and Shana (who made the trip from Wisconsin!) there to cheer me on.
Dave even helped get me warmed up for the race, practicing the "Flask Feed"

The race was intense but I felt really good. First few laps I was settled in a constant 2nd or 3rd place, loving the 9 technical turns. That's when things got interesting.
Pretty for spectators - bad sign for racers...


Having pulled half of one lap I drifted back into the pack to rest for a bit - I didn't even know an attack of 4 riders went off the front. Then a wall of rain hit and there was no way we as a group could build enough speed to catch the break as we'd have to slow down in every corner to keep from crashing. I pulled hard at the front trading spots with the top guys

I watched at least 10 guys in the front group hit the deck. Having never raced in the rain I settled in, focused on not crashing, survived and waited for the sprint for 5th place. Coolest part was coming through on our bell lap and hearing the growing crowd of 30-40,000 spectators roar. It was like we were in Europe - I was thrilled that my home town, usually only excited by a Buffalo Bills game or Amerks Hockey, turned out the way they did.

I didn't jump soon enough but still finished somewhere around 13th.

It was pouring so my main concern was getting warm clothes on and not checking results. I made an effort but at first they were not posted yet, then after the pro race they were taken down. Speaking of the pro race it was off the hook exciting as there were more than a few crashes on the still wet course.

This was the corner that claimed many riders - notice all the manhole covers

This dropped one block downhill into another slippery corner that provided more carnage.
I think it's funny how mountain bikers crash, get up and keep racing. Roadies tend to sit there...

Probably at first to avoid getting run over

but then, after brushing away the tears, to take advantage of the rule that lets you join the pack when they come around again. ??? Try that in mountain biking and you'll get your ass kicked.

I have to admit tho, the pros were hauling ass like I only dream about - turn down your volume if you watch this:

Racing in the dark makes for interesting photos

The late-night posse


The lame-ass local paper barely mentioned the race the next day and instead focused on the Nascar race 3 hours away at Watkins Glenn but they estimated 40,000 spectators were there before the rain hit. As my luck would have it I was omitted from the results and I was way past the bullshit rule of having only 15 minutes after the results are posted to lodge a protest. So my first race with cat 3's and I don't get a bit of credit for it. As Dave reminded me - doesn't really matter since those I care about most got to see it in person. That was the first time both my Mom and Dad have seen me race a bike, that's all that mattered. Wish I got a photo of them there.

On the drive home I was loving the windmills outside of Naples - a welcome sign of the future.


Ok, back to worrying. 2 more days till the 100...

Last Day in Alaska

2 days ago - Saturday, another blur. I woke up wasn't quite sure where I was. Another minute to brush away the fog of multi-day, multi-locaiton filming and I remembered we were in the comfort of the Tenakee Lodge. A nice place considering how remote it's location was. And beside many neighboring houses, this was palatial. I was up first and noticed how calm the water and sky were. I immediately grabbed the camera and tripod, slipped on my shoes and ran across the road to Art's place where i set up on the deck overlooking the receding tide just feet away. I set the camera to record in time-lapse in hopes of capturing the far shore fog as it crept over the hills and valleys then began my ritual of coffee injection, gear preparation and wondering where our next meal would come from. Luckily for us Art offered up some cereal, a simple pleasure I often miss when traveling. After many days of restaurant pancakes and eggs I welcomed the more healthy oats. It was time to head out and begin another fast paced day of filming as much as possible. While I was breaking down the camera and getting it ready to transport a raven flew over my head. At first I heard it and was startled at how close it sounded but once I looked up and saw it was 20' above I wondered how it could seem so loud. Then a gul flew by and I could hear the air pushing down off it's wings like I've never heard before.

A sort of "Swooosh, swoooosh..." I looked 360° around and realized there were no motors running, no cars, no planes. Nothing but the wind complimented by the fizzing waves lapping on the barnacle covered rocks revealed by the low tide. I know I'll remember those sounds for a long time and will wish I had kept the camera running even tho the perfect shot with perfect sound cannot relay the magnificent silence and beauty of that moment.

After a brief discussion we decided to drag our gear including the large bag of dolly, tracks and mini-crane (weighing in at an even 50lbs) into a skiff and motor off to find what is by many, considered the tallest (and most likely oldest) Spruce still standing in the Tongass. On the way we passed seals, porpoise and whales in the distance. Art had a GPS with coordinates so we figured it wouldn't be a problem.

When we arrived near the spot Art circled the skiff and looked a bit confused. He announced as we sat 30' off the shore that this was the spot. It was clear we'd have to bushwack into the woods and hope for the best. Looking at the thick brush hiding all points of entry to this old growth forest I couldn't help but worry about possible bears just inside the trees. It was another Jurassic moment but we followed Art who confidently led us towards what had looked like one hell of a tall tree from the shore. I couldn't believe how thick with vegetation, moss and Devils Club the forest floor was. This is Devils Club

It's huge and nasty and hurts like hell when it pokes you. It's roots are slippery and Art took a tumble into a patch of it. The guy didn't make a peep. Clearly a local. Curtis and I were more like "Dude!... Ouch!... @#$@!!!"
I could hear and see water everywhere, in kettle ponds, sponging out underfoot, running down trees, over all things there, even overhead in thick mist that moved in and around the forest like a ghostly blanket. We got a solid interview using the mini crane until the tripod head snapped off. All said we lugged the dolly tracks and crane around all of South East Alaska for 3 shots. I hope they're worth that effort. The tree behind Art was beyond description, even for a wordy guy like me.

It had somehow escaped the loggers saws where as this guy was not so lucky.
You can see the notch where the logger would have inserted a "Spring Board" to climb up on and then cut through as the flared base would have required twice as much effort.

We roared back to town, recharged batteries and dumped footage to my computer and backup drives then walked down to meet with Walter, a 99 year old Tlingit who has lived in Tenakee for his entire life. Before he let us set up, he interviewed me. He clearly was testing me to make sure I wasn't too much in one direction (no logging) or the other (clear cutting) which luckily is where my client stands, in between the two. I haven't been on the spot like that in a long time but I spoke honestly from my heart then shut my mouth. He didn't answer right away. In fact it seemed like it took quite a while for him to finally gesture to my camera bag and say in a decisive voice, "Ok, set up your stuff"

Walter spoke of his people's life before the white man came and claimed their lands. Sure you've heard it before but to hear it from a guy who witnessed it - my eyes were welling up with my own guilty embarrassment being a 'white man' as he spoke. He was adamant about seeing the land as a resource but also quickly pointed out how disgusting and destructive the clear cutting is. He touched on the youth of today having little respect for anything but themselves and said something to the effect of "How can they have respect for the land and water when they never go outside?"

When he saw I was running low on questions he promptly said, "Ok, that's it". He waived his hands and was done. I turned off the camera. He was a powerful man and I don't know what he thought of me but I was in awe. I could likely make a film based solely from his stories.

We continued down the road of Tenakee and met with Ken, a guy who flew helicopters for 22 years then retired in Tenakee stating, "I've lived in the cities and have no need for all that crap. So I live here now." This guy is huge, like 6'4" and 250. He's runs his own small scale mill and is a great example of what's wrong with the system. Ken was also concerned that we were not going to use his words to make the forests off limits to logging, even tho he cannot take a single log out of that forest since his operation is SO small. He relies on wood that makes it's way to the water. He'll get it off shorelines and drag it back with a skiff or make a float. Then he cuts the wood and sells it locally. The Forest Service doesn't have the manpower or desire to deal with such small allotments or so it was explained to me so he lives surrounded by resources he cannot touch.

Ken is also an amazing artist. His woodshop was immaculate and superbly organized. One look at the bowls and vases he makes show how talented he is. His wife is also talented in the art of brewing award-winning beer. This guy has got it going on!

We made our way back to the docks hoping the settling fog would not crowd out our ride back to Juneau and we got lucky.
Something I'll surely miss - getting around via float plane

Once we landed back in Juneau we bid our absolutely amazing guide Butch, adieu and checked back into our hotel. It was pouring so the option of getting another bike ride in wasn't so appealing. We opted for some quick gift shopping since these trips are when I do all my Christmas shopping. For myself I picked up a sweet silver bracelet with a native carving of a killer whale, the spirit of the traveler - seemed fitting. Then we scored some terrific sushi. A few short hours to repack our gear then sleep and we were in the airport yet again. Delayed planes, terrible food and numb legs. Travel days suck.

Now I'm back in DC jet lagged and melancholy. Good to be home for sure but it makes me think why do I live here? Trying to tell friends will be hard - how can you describe the absolute quiet of that land in a crowded, loud bar? No way. I'd rather just smile and say something like
"Alaska is still wild. The people are friendly and happy. The land is untamed and rich but not without controversy or need for better management which will only come from more people being aware of this amazing and eternally endangered place. So get involved. The fate of the Tongass is in the hands of those who care about it most."

Which in essence, is the goal statement of the video.

Peace-

Tenakee Population 95

Today (really yesterday now) we woke up, walked to the only restaurant in Hoonah and had a quick breakfast then it was off to get an interview with Wanda Culp , a native alaskan who has become the voice of conservation for many places in the northern reaches of the Tongass. She needed very little prompting from me as she told the story of her people, their culture, the lack of voice they had in the logging of their own tribal corporation lands. I listened intently as she testified to the devastation wrought by years of exploiting the Tlingit people and their resources.

She continues to fight the Alaskan State DOT as they propose to build roads connecting Hoonah with Tenakee which was our next stop.

As our ferry boarded I walked onto the back deck which faced the bay the forms Hoonah and watched a whale breach not 200 yards from where I stood. I did my best to film this whale but a sport fishing boat leaving the marina rushed up to within 10' of the whale then floored it and sped off. Guess they got their "Been there, done that" photo and can now mark "Humpack Whale" off their must-have-photo-of list. Jackasses.

On the ride to Tenakee we met Art & Lindsay Bloom, another father-daughter team who live and work very closely. Both own and operate their own commercial fishing vessels in Bristol Bay. Lindsay is connected to Trout Unlimited and I think had a role in the recently released film "Red Gold" by Felt Soul Media. She didn't say a whole lot but seemed intense in a good way. Her father Art was a little more inquisitive as to what were were up to so I chatted with him before heading out on the deck of the ferry in the rain for some much needed 'alone' time. I listened to David Gray' s Lost Songs and for the first time since I've been here I started to forget about the project and just loose myself in the place. This was very fitting for the town we were about to land it.

Tenakee is today as it was 120 years ago.

One dirt road paralleling the waterline with only 2 cars that drive that road - one pickup used to distribute heating fuel and one fire truck. The 100 or so people who live along that road rely on bikes, a few 4-wheelers and their feet to get where they need to go. It was sureal - once we got our gear dropped at the lodge we would be staying in, we walked from one end of that road to the other, meeting many of the residents along the way. Art introduced us as we made our way down that exceptionally textured road passing newly built houses juxtaposed to houses that have stood for a generation or more. Along every step there were bushes full of ripe berries - blueberry's, huckleberry's, thimbeberry's, even some weird-tasting Russian-berry. It's easy to see how people who live here eat very well. Suddenly, about 200 yards off shore a pod of whales were bubble-feeding and I got some amazing footage.

Hopefully we'll see them again tomorrow while we're out on Art's skiff. We are planning on interviewing a guy who runs a small mill, another guy who's turning 100 this year and he was actually born and raised here in Tenakee as well as interviewing both Art & Lindsey and maybe even Butch. There's a ton of work to do before we board our chartered float plane back to Juneau at 4pm...

As the afternoon wore on we headed back for a sort of happy-hour with two old friends of Butch's from Juneau who happen to live next door to Art. For as big of a state that is Alaska, it sure is a small world. Then we moved the party to Art's house and watched Lindsay put the finishing touches on a Sitka Black Tail deer she shot with her father last Fall. We shared dinner with guests of theirs who seemed very appreciative to be in the Tongass and out of Boston.

After an amazing dinner the guys walked down the road to the community hot spring (it's not coed, darn!) and we traded stories of travel from around the world. Turns out Butch was one of the first rafters down the Zambezi River back in the day. Art has a color past as well having picked up a business card when he was in grad school in Massachusetts which led him to Alaska for the rest of his life. It was pretty cool to bond with such colorful locals although being nakid in a hot spring with only men was a little un-nerving but hey, when in Rome... right?

So it's light's out for this camper. There's no internet here but I'll get this up when we get back to Juneau tomorrow night.

It's a great night to be alive & again listening to David Gray as I fall asleep.

A different perspective

Forgot to mention - there were no fences, railings or anything between us and the bears at Pack Creek. I think that makes the entire experience that much more real. I needed some rest so I let Curtis stress over writing an entry. I think he was up till 1am but here's his thoughts on the trip so far.


After eight days of interviews and around-the-clock filming, Jason and I finally got to experience first hand exactly what this project is trying to show; the qualities that make Alaska unique. It wasn't until our epic mountain bike excursion that we got to take a breath, stop and purely enjoy the state without a camera or a nervous interviewee. It was also for me, an eye opening realization of what is here and what could be gone very shortly..

Our days have been filled since the day we landed in Ketchikan, beginning at 6 AM and ending at 11 PM consistantly. We've been lucky enough to have excellent guides that held our hands at all of our stops and that educated us along the way. Having collected nearly 30 hours of important footage in many different cities, traveling by skiff, ferry, car, float plane and jet, Jason and I have been given a crash course on Tongas National Rain Forest history and have been given the tour at sonic speed. Rushing around visiting six islands, we've been lucky enough too see wilderness and wildlife most people won't see in their in entire lifetime.

Maybe you've seen a bear or two, maybe even an eagle. Or maybe you've been fly fishing and caught a pink salmon. What about 400 year-old Spruce and Hemlock trees, humpback whales, waterfalls, sea lions, seals, herrings, halibut or clean pure unmessed-around-with air? Maybe you've seen one of those. Maybe you've seen all of them. But there's only one place on earth that you can see all of them living together, dependent on another in some way shape or form. Alaska.

Our taxi service

Our fishing guide and taxi driver, Doug

It wasn't until yesterday, after I threw a leg over our outstanding Lapiere loner bikes (thank you Dennis!) that everything finally sunk in. Grinding up a mountain and forcing your body to hurt has a way of clearing your mind. We stopped every 10 minutes just to enjoy the view, and because Jason was tired, because we were no longer trying to frame a shot or make sure the lighting was good. Getting off my bike to walk across a valley of snow made me reflect on the previous days' activities and how incredible the experiences were. Standing 30 feet from five grizzly bears, hiking through the last remaining temperate climate rain forest, and meeting the people that rely on the Tongas has made me realize that we are part of a cause worth fighting for.

I didn't know what to expect before journeying across the United States, in fact I was terrified of getting mauled by bear and I thought I'd meet an Eskimo. Ignorant. What I have learned is that Alaska is home to the last remaining temperate climate rain forest in the world. There are people that have damaged, and want to continue to damage the forest without considering the harm that has been done to the existing wildlife as well as the people that inhabit the area.
Doug's daughter Shelly

Sure, cutting down 40 million board feet of old growth timber will bring quick and easy money but only for so long. Boom and bust. Clear cutting has killed not only wildlife but business. When the Spruce and Hemlock are so elegantly ripped from the earth and forced down a mountain, erosion occurs and dumps sediment into the water. Bears, deer, wolves, and eagles lose their homes and food sources. Salmon and other fish swim in polluted water. All of these animals die. Fisherman are put out of jobs even though many of them have worked hard to respect the need for balance. Hunters no longer have a place to hunt. Tourism decreases- who wants too look at naked mountain sides or hear their tour-guide say "There used to be bears here." Limitations on sport fishers get tighter and tighter. The list goes on and on...

No, I'm not a tree hugger- I love my wood floors and cabinets, but not at the expense of acres and acres of the only temperate rain forest on earth and the businesses that rely on and respect the balance of the Tongas. Better management of the forest is all it takes. Though things have improved from the 50's, clear cutting is still clear cutting.
Peggin it down the trails with Jason made me realize how much I enjoyed seeing waterfalls from three thousand feet up, and how much I loved the smell of the crisp air the trees provided, and how incredible it has been to be 30 feet from bears, whales, eagles, sea lions and a plethora of other creatures. Though I'm leaving in three days and may never get another opportunity to find myself in the rich wilderness Alaska provides, it is still nice to hope, even if only for intrinsic value, that this region will not only continue to survive, but thrive.

Pack Creek, Admiralty Island

Well it's been a long time since I've been a bit afraid for my life. Today was one of those times. Admiralty Island is home to the largest population density of Brown Bears (Grizzlies) in the world. It's a "forever wild" sanctuary and you have to get a permit just to step foot on the island. It's regulated by the US Forest Service, State Conservation Dept as well as US Fish and Game Bureau. This is one case of the government getting it right. There's only a few months out of the year you can go and during those months only 28 people a day can go and of those people you can only walk to 2 spots on the island. One is the gravel point at the head of a creek the runs up between two peaks on the island and one is further into the rainforest along that creek, about a 30 minute hike through some of the most dense forest you can imagine.

Butch, Curtis and I landed smoothly after a bumpy flight (we hit an air pocket and Curtis almost launched through the roof of the plane - there would be no napping on this flight) and were greeted by one of two rangers on the island. The current administration has cut the funding for what used to be a dozen or so rangers that would tend to the place, now it's down to 3. Harry is in charge of the other 2.

Harry gave us the ground rules which are in place to protect the bears. Then we marched off to the first viewing spot at the mouth of the creek.



One brown was fishing about 30 yards from us. It quickly caught a fish and took it off to the woods. I got a few shots but not really what I wanted. We sat and talked for a bit then a sow and her cub appeared at the far end near the woods. They played for a while in a deep hole, swimming and chasing fish. I've seen plenty of bears on TV but this was like seeing one for the first time entirely. It was so bloody cool watching the cub rough-housing with it's mom and playing in the deep water. It would float around, chase fish then run to catch up to mom as she would check different parts of the stream, getting close to us but never too close. Another young mail appeared across the creek from us with a bit of a youthful trot and it was game on! He started jumping into the water trying to squash fish. It was hilarious. This didn't work so he tried chasing after fish, one then another then the one beside him, ahead of him, over his shoulder - for about 200 yards out towards the open waters.

He turns and came charging back towards us and I got some of the best shots I could have ever dreamed to get. It took this motivated grizzly a few minutes but he finally caught a large salmon

and trotted quite happily around our point into a grassy field where he feasted in the sun. OH - that reminds me, we've now had 3 of the best days of the entire summer in regards to sun. It's been very cold and more rainy than normal so I'm exceptionally happy to score such good weather. A person could have spent a month trying to get the lighting and shots we did today. It was awesome. Then we moved onto the viewing tower located about a mile into the woods, up Pack Creek.

Heading into the rainforest got my heart absolutely racing. They had just told us there were over 1,000 huge bears living on the Island - that's one bear per square mile. Normally animals that big require huge tracks of land to live off but there's so much food so readily available year round, it's the perfect place for many bears to live together in balance with the fish and plants. So walking through that dense forest knowing we were literally surrounded by some of the largest animals on the planet was kinda like the feeling you got back when you watched Jurrasic Park. It's so hard to describe, especially as fried as my brain is right now but believe me, it was really fun, scary and amazing all at once.

Then we rushed onto the float plane, back to Juneau where we met a couple who run a charter fly-fishing guide service. We shot them and their kid along a stream with lots of stinking, rotting fish carcasses and tried to make the best of it. Then Curtis and I contacted Dennis of Glacier Cycles who met us at our hotel with 2 bikes for us to use. Dennis had other commitments so he couldn't join us but he did drop us off at a trail head that led to some of the most spectacular waterfalls I've ever seen. gt;
The 30 minute climb was exactly what Curtis and I needed. We were like kids on Christmas morning, tearing up the mountain and stopping every 300 yards to either take photos
or shout something like, "This is AMAZING! We're mountain biking in ALASKA!!" We didn't have waterbottles so we drank from the glacial stream.

I opted for a snowcone.

Yes, there were snow fields in August! I wish we had an entire day to sus out all the trails here but I was very thankful to have the 1 hour that we did. So big, big thanks to Dennis for hooking us up.



We're amped from the ride but exhausted from so much running around and then standing around to film. No, I'm not complaining one bit. This trip is all-time-epic for sure. But man, I'm whopped. And worried that just days after I return I will face the yearly suffer-fest known as the Shenandoah Mountain 100. And with only 1 bike ride in the last 2 weeks, I'll be hurting like nobody's business. But I guess that's the price for being on such an epic journey so I'll take it. Or pay it. Whatever. My brain sorta stopped working an hour ago. I just keep thinking about how much more sleep I need - tomorrow it's up at 6am and onto another small plane headed to Gustavus Island where we'll look for whales to film and interview native Alaskans. Then we'll hope a ferry to Tenakee, another small native community of roughly 90 people. No cars are on the island so I'm stoked to see the place. Saturday we spend the day in Hoonah, another indian community and then it's back to Juneau where we'll collapse for a night before heading home. Might not have internet but I'll do my best to keep this updated. Ok, time for this camper to zonk out.

Thanks for reading.