ski portage

Went for a ski with my friend Jo-Ann today. I'd heard from Jon that the conditions were perfect at Portage Lake when he was there two days ago, so Jo-Ann & I took off just before noon.

Sunny skies; no wind; crusty snow with an inch or so of fines. We were the only skiers on the lake.

Toward the north side of the lake, drifts covered small bergs that were trapped in the ice below. They made moguls on an otherwise level surface.


The glacier didn't come into view until we were more than halfway across the lake, its blue-tinted ice covered in spring snow.


We were not alone in wanting to cross the lake.


In the city and on the calendar, it's spring. On the trails and on the lake, it's still winter, but melting.


I don't spend much time on my skis, but they were the right mode of travel today.

each moment

Each moment in life is unique. Some, I want to hold onto and I'll experience them knowing the impact almost as each one happens. Monday's ride brought me one of those moments. Biking home from work that night, we detoured away from the frozen, bumpy streetside path and headed for the Tour of Anchorage route.

Hopped on at the "Ballfield" trailhead. Right away, the conditions were hardpacked and fast as we soared down the hill at around 9:30. The Tour was perfect, with our tires barely leaving a track, just a little kicked-up snow atop the surface. Heading north, just after the Moose Meadow intersection, I started noticing the shadows cast by the moon to the east.

I slowed down. I turned off my headlamp. As my eyes adjusted to riding by moonlight, I began to notice the fine details of the shadows even more. Shadows of branches tricked me into thinking a branch was actually on the trail. The light cast a soft blue on the crust of snow. Jon's light had disappeared ahead of me. I was alone in the moment, slowing my pace so I could just glide through the night and experience the waxing moon.

I had time to relax and just enjoy the simple beauty of winter cycling. I already know I'll miss it.

splash!

Arrived back in Anchorage on Monday evening. Leaving Chicago was easy - rain was turning into sleet as I topped off the tank on the rental car before returning it. The snow would be better in Anchorage, I was sure.

Instead, I was met with 40 degree temps and rain puddling on the ice-covered bike paths. I rode into work Tuesday anyway, jumping back on the bike and back into what could be a busy spring at work.

Two weeks ago I was taking a last stroll near the hotel. Looking at a fountain I hadn't noticed yet. Watching as vendors swept litter from the cobbles. Still taking it all in. Not ready to leave but knowing I couldn't stay any longer.

It re-sparked my desire to just ditch all plans I may have, convince Jon to quit work and buy a couple one-way tickets to Europe. One piece of luggage each and a train schedule along with some walking shoes. Isn't that what I should be doing with my life? I mean, why should our 40s be spent working all the time, saving for a few weeks of biking or traveling in some exotic location each year when we could just drop out for a year or more and see the world while we're young and healthy?

Maybe it's just the breakup talking, because it sure can be tough to be a cyclist in Anchorage this time of year. And it is about time for my spring fever to check in with me. I'll get through the season; but I can't promise I'll be here for the next one. This planet is just way too big to ignore. I just want to jump in.

midwest time

After a few days of jet-lag, I'm finally on Midwest time. And in two days I fly back home to Alaska. Plenty of snow here, but no skis or snow bike to take advantage of it. Instead, a pilgrimage to the cheese store and dinner last night with my parents & my brother at the KofC fish fry. Another Midwest Catholic thing.

Back home in Alaska, Jon told me the trails are fantastic, so I'm anxious to get back and get on my bike again. It already seems like Rome was weeks ago. I promise to go back. Next time with him.

I also promise to learn more of the language. Though I was adept at ordering a couple of espressos, my phrasebook didn't help me interpret to a store clerk that something had "caught my eye." I was rarely without the book or the now mis-folded map of central Rome with its narrow, bending streets. The non-grid system of streets made each turn a study in map-reading and offered the possibility of surprise and thrill at any corner.

Look up, and discover that we are at our destination. Listen and know we're close to the fountain. Turn a corner and spend the next minutes studying the map to learn which direction we're going. Arriving back at the hotel my aunt claimed to never doubt my navigational skills.

back in the states

Hello friends -

I had hoped to post while in Italy, but a few things got in the way: wifi not free; busy schedule (an "organized" trip) and just way too tired to post things.

Some things stood out to me: the first few days were filled with visiting basilicas and other historical, religious sites like the catacombs, the Sistine Chapel, and a day trip to Assisi. The other thing was: those Catholic pilgrims sure do put down the wine! Man, each night in the hotel bar the glasses were emptied and the voices got louder until I had to sneak out back to my room. Oh, yes, and the Father was one of the bunch enjoying the partying.

I'll put a few photos here for you, and will put more on Flikr when i get them together.


The first pic is of cobbles near the Coliseum. The cobbles made up probably half the walking surface while in Rome. After tripping on a few raised cobbles, we learned to better pick up our feet.

The second is pretty self-explanatory...another ladies' frame with a baby seat on.


So, friends, keep checking back; I promise to get things together. But, for now, I'll be in Wisconsin. Back the first week in March.

stay tuned.

to Roma

I'm almost halfway to my destination, spending a night in Chicago in preparation for another travel day to Rome. Yes, the Rome in Italy.

Italy! Pilgrimage site for Catholics, foodies, wine lovers, historians & cyclists. I qualify for at least a few of these. I just need to make sure I can ask where to find a bike shop and the best caffe latte.

I've wanted to go to Italy since at least my early college years - when I fumbled through a semester of Italian. Now, it's just two more flights away.

A little background:
When Jon & I were visiting my parents this time last year, my aunt joined us for dinner. In conversation while doing the dishes she told me she was going on a church trip to Rome and would like a traveling companion. What could I say but "I'd love to go with you!" Aunt Anna Mae and her husband, Hugh, had a dairy farm just up the road from us when I was a kid. Their kitchen table was always open. Many times my mom would phone to tell me it was time to come home for dinner.

But living in Alaska since 1994 doesn't give me much time to visit with my aunt who's now widowed. So a few weeks later I called and told her I'd like to go if the offer was still open. Emails and letters were exchanged and here I am in the Windy City. I'll meet her and the rest of the group at O'Hare tomorrow morning for a long travel day & night.

Italy! Benissimo!

commit to the commute

So, last night after coming home from a concert - wow - if you get a chance to see the Carolina Chocolate Drops, don't miss them, especially if you like old-timey, string with some roots blues... I can't describe it enough...

Oh, yeah, after getting home, with the temps slowly climbing, decided I wanted to bike into work on Monday (today). Guess I missed the forecast. Did anyone else know it was supposed to snow overnight? Not me. As I sat at the table this morning, I asked Jon the question: riding or driving? Riding.

See, even though we had over four inches of snow in the driveway (more in other parts of the route) it was my last chance to ride before I head off on a non-cycling trip later this week. I left on the Pugsley a bit before Jon, pedaling down the street on the way to the trailhead and on to South Anchorage. The temps were single digits, but it was above zero before 11 a.m. for the first time in a couple weeks.

One stretch of the commute was Lake Otis bike path. The snow was pretty deep and I followed the track of a lone cyclist who had biked in the opposite direction. The rider's pedals repeatedly tapped the top of the fresh layer of snow on the uphills and the left pedals scraped a line atop snow all the way down the hill that I was then climbing.

The best sight was about half-way between Abbott and O'Malley roads. Through the spray of snow kicked up by traffic in the road, I saw the path plow - really, more of a path snow-blower. He was coming my direction, heading up the hill, blowing the snow into the trees. "Yeah!" I was so happy to see him!

I stopped to let him pass.


It's the second time this season I've crossed paths the snowblower. I don't know his name, but I sure appreciate that he was out there doing his job so I could get to mine. Thanks!