I survived the mountains of AZ and all I have to show is this weird rash

Time for a new installment of the ToCN. I've been pretty busy; since Christmas I've been to Michigan, Salt Lake City, Newark, Tuscon, the Galiuros Mountains, and am now writing this from some high end coffee shop in downtown Phoenix. There is Much to report.

If you haven't gotten a chance to visit the left pinkie of the right hand of Michigan, I highly recommend including it in your travel plans. In June. Make sure to account for terrorist attack attempts while laying out your trip timeline. We ended up staying 2 extra days - causing my father's fun meter to plummet below the line. We then made an icy drive to Chicago to catch our second (new) leg back to Montana where people are apparently ready for bad weather. Still, aside from taking wonderful long walks only to return to the image of a day-glow Santa looking like a likely suicidal defenestration victim, the time with family was pretty good. We don't get together often (last reunion: 1994), but the events have consistently been wacky and full of laughter.

Upon returning to the "406" - and, no, people in MT don't say that - I was buffeted by interview requests. Weird, right? People were asking me to interview with their companies. Gratifying, yes; convenient, no. I had exactly 2 free days between a 23 hour drive to Tucson and the beginning of my lightweight backing course in the Galiuros Mountains of eastern AZ. So a few quickly arranged flights, some change of clothes, much handshaking, and a lot of caffeine shots later, and I was back in business ready to head south to my NOLS class by way of SLC. By the way, apparently the Jets didn't make it to the Superbowl despite the rabid fans of Northern NJ. Sorry all.

NOLS stands for the National Outdoor Leadership School - it focuses on developing leadership skills for the wild (taking groups of underexposed, wild-eyed friends into the deep frontiers as bear snacks), is an advocate of Leave No Trace, and teaches a lot of advanced skills in backcountry hiking, climbing, cooking, and medicine. I attended their Alaska hiking course after graduating from Stanford and have always looked back on my time in the Talkeetna Mountains as a coming-of-age experience. This time I had two weeks of time, a lot less physical hardiness, and a desire to hang out with folks who had at least graduated from high school.

My trip began at the NOLS Southwest branch in east Tucson - an equipment briefing, time in the mandatory NOLS circle for introductions, and a gear perusal. This course focused on the concept of lightweight backpacking. Rather than imitating masochistic mules bearing 60lb + packs, we worked hard to reduce our total carrying load to 25 pounds. Trust me - this is a phenomenal and fundamental shift in my packing paradigm. I mean, c'mon, no change of clothes, a lot of layers, 1 spoon, and a tent with no floor. What the hey!!!

Still, given the state of my relatively decrepit body, esp. knees, halving the total weight enabled me to keep up with all of my 19 year old classmates. We left the next morning for a planned 13 day, 90+ mile hike through the Galiuros Mountains of eastern Arizona: high altitude desert canyons, bouldering, bushwacking ("schwacking"), and cliff ascents. Lighweight back packing makes hopping, climbing, jumping, and swimming (brrr) possible; the desert southwest also enables LWB b/c you don't have to worry about rain/snow/insects/etc.... In theory.

I can't know if you have kept up with the weather as my father obsessively does (Dad knows the dewpoint in Glasgow or Rekyavik on any given day). There ended up being the father of all weather systems squatting over the southwest for days, dropping untold billions of gallons of precip all over the place. On day 9 a steady drizzle began to fall. Interestingly, when we ascended 2000 feet to conquer Rhodes Peak, the sun was shining, but that night the rain returned as sleet, then snow, then a blizzard. There is nothing that can prepare you to wake up in a down sleeping bag that now has the properties of a wet plastic sack. Everyones' gear was soaked and would have no chance to dry out - essential for providing insulation and retaining heat. It was time to bug out.

We had a few days of exciting, accelerated travel through heavily blanketed trails (where trails existed) and had 2 12 mile days in a row with over 4000' of elevation change. We ended up splitting up the group, with our three strongest hikers taking the long way out of the mountains. My friends hiked 12 more miles (now 36 in 3 days of high winds and snow, little insulation) and descended 3000' in just over 4 miles to get a van to our rendezvous; the rest of us hiked out to a little-used roadhead to wait in filthy, wet tarps, clothes, and sleeping bags. We slept when possible, and I had a great time singing songs with one of my tentmates who is training to be an Opera singer. I had asked her to sing throughout the trip - only when the snow was falling in direct proportion to morale did she share her voice. It was ethereal to hear on the windswept, shadowy plain. What irony - singing "Paradise" in duet under those conditions. A truck arrived a few hours later bearing us all in its bed to a delightfully warm and dry ranchhouse. Western hospitality is NOT DEAD. Standing on the threshold of the light and heat and seeing everyone healthy and laughing was a highlight of my trip.

So, it was back to the frontcountry's noise and gaudy illumination, burritos and laundrymats. We had a day to clean up and reminisce. The other "old guy" and I found a pretty, uh, unique barber shop named Dapper where the shaves are close, the room is red, the beers are free and unlimited, the pool table level, and the hairdressers heavily tattooed. It was surreal - but I left a bunch of facial hair there and felt great. That, plus a Chinese reflexology massage near the hotel, and I am restored to my self, minus a few pounds. Spend some final hours with my new friend, Niek, at the Sonora Desert Museum watching birds, javelina, and big cats. Awesome place!

Headed north to Phoenix to hang with my long-time Stanford friend Emma and explore downtown. I'm fairly reacclimated but I swear, there are a lot of people around me and they smell funny. It must be because they are clean :)

Take care - more to follow when I arrive in SLC for househunting. Hurray!!