Diamond Lake

Even though I expected it, I was still shocked when it happened. I'd been tentative all morning with so much hard ice on the trail - the sunlight shining through the trees glistened on the glassy sections. I used the occasional tree-root or boulder to steady my sliding feet, but the steep uphill and downhill sections were treacherous. The thought of losing my footing and skating over the edge and down rocky talus wasn't exactly appealing. I could cope with the thought of sliding through fluffy snow, but not with getting my legs skinned on rough granite, or my skull getting whacked against a tree trunk (although, on the latter point my wife would argue where the greater damage might be caused!).

Snow on the high mountains leaving the trailhead.

Annoyingly, I was upended on a perfectly flat section of trail and little damage ensued, except to my pride and ego. My heel, for reasons known only to it, decided that a sideways skate was in order. As I brought through my trailing leg it clipped the back of my calf and I went full length on the ice. It hurt, but it wasn't an injury inducing fall. Livvy, bemused at my prostrate form, looked in puzzlement. She had the look of a dog who just wanted me to get up and start running again. And that's exactly what I did.

Crossing the North Fork of Middle Boulder Creek.

The Fourth of July trailhead was completely deserted this morning. That wasn't a great surprise. Midweek and well into Fall, this trailhead lies just below 10,000 feet and will soon be snowbound. It gets very busy in summer, but only serious hikers and mountaineers are around in late season...or cerebrally challenged runners like me looking for some altitude before the winter really sets in. It wasn't particularly cold as Livvy and I left the car - maybe 34 degrees - but the wind was very strong. Within 200 feet elevation gain from the trailhead we encountered ice on the trail and snow in the woods. It was going to get much worse as we gained altitude. It was also going to slow us right down. I like running in snow, but not on hard ice. We were going to be walking a lot. Rather that than a serious injury.

Approaching Diamond Lake

I didn't have a lot of time this morning, so rather than attempt a higher mountain outing I took the trail to Diamond Lake. This would give about a six mile circuit and take us up to about 10,600 feet. As we climbed up to the lake Livvy's paws were tracking clumps of ice and her legs were skating all over the place. She better get used to this because we are going to be running in much worse conditions in the depth of winter.

The sun felt warm, but the air temperature was cold.

I've been to Diamond Lake many times. This usually tranquil lake is a beautiful place in warm, sunny weather. Usually I approach it from the Devil's Thumb Trail via Hessie and this makes for a long trip. I recall early last year doing a 17 mile circuit with Livvy with the last section the reverse of the route we were taking today. I knew the route and what to expect.

Looking across Diamond Lake from the inlet.

The dense woodland offered some protection from the wind and occasional clearings provided brief warmth from the sun. The snow depth off trail was about 8 inches, but the wind had whipped it up to about 2 feet in places, whereas other sections of trail were completely snow free. It made for intermittent running and walking, but it was great to be in the high country with not a person in sight.

Sun hadn't reached this area and the air temperature was down to negative 8. Windchill would double that.

We reached the lake and were immediately buffeted by wind. It whipped up ice particles that lashed and stung my face and legs - those shorts were a great choice!! We quickly tracked the lake's north shore and headed for the inlet at its west end. I wondered about completing the circuit but when I saw heavily iced boulders beyond the point where I took the above photo on self-timer, it was much fairer on Livvy to just backtrack.

We raced back into sunshine and took the trail to the southeast corner of the lake. The wind was ripping across the surface and a significant amount of verglas was coating the rocks next to the trail. It wasn't a place to stand around and, just as we were leaving a huge gust sent a stream of water spray that hit me full in the face. Two washes in one day - that should see me through to November.

We paused briefly in a sunny patch to warm up a little before heading back through the woods. This was a really short run, so we weren't under any time pressure.

I had seen quite a few fresh bear tracks on the way up and on the return trip Livvy showed a lot of interest in movements she picked up through the trees to our north. I didn't see a bear on this trip, but knew they were close. Just after this photo was taken we found a large pile of fresh bear skat on the trail that hadn't been there on the way up.

There won't be many more days when the higher trails are accessible, so we are making the most of them while we can.

Betasso Reserve, Walker Ranch & Deepak Chopra

The "woomeister-in-chief"

The weather has been strange recently with lots of low cloud cover in the high mountains - meaning only one thing at this time of year...snow!! I took a trip up to Coney Flats last weekend, and although the snow isn't lying deep, it is very icy and tricky on steep rock trails. It also isn't too kind to a dog's paws. I seriously considered a high level run today, but decided, for the second successive day, to revisit one of my lower lying winter runs - blue skies over the foothills and thick cloud over the high peaks made this the right choice. Yesterday it was the superb Betasso Preserve. Today it was the more undulating Walker Ranch. Knowing both trails so well I was on auto-pilot for much of the time...and when I am on auto-pilot I think about "stuff". Sometimes really weird stuff. Which brings me to Deepak Chopra, the shyster and woomeister-in-chief.

Through the woods on the initial descent.

Deepak Chopra blocked me on Twitter. Apparently, politely asking him to provide evidence for his rather outrageous claims is sufficiently provocative to warrant exclusion from his world. This is hardly problematic to my intellectual wellbeing and now prevents me from choking on food as I splutter with disbelief at his latest nonsense, but his actions speak loudly - Deepak has ideas...he thinks those ideas are true...in his mind he believes them...but there is no evidence for them, and he hates it when people expose his deceit. And with over 1 million "followers" on Twitter, he clearly has a "reputation" to protect, and an irksome pedant like me is just too problematic.

It's difficult to look at Deepak and not think that he's a little "wild-eyed"

Deepak is a menace. He's a menace to science and reason, and ultimately to society. And the reason for this is that he, well, makes stuff up. He is expert at exploiting the gullible by writing using "sciency" sounding words ("quantum" is his favorite, although he clearly does not know what it means) that suggest superficial plausibility. For the uneducated, credulous and uninformed, lacking even the remotest element of curiosity or doubt, he meets their every need. He provides the simplest answers they are looking for to solve some of their most perplexing questions. Worried about dying? No problem...Deepak knows all about the afterlife. That's right, he knows. Apparently even your first kiss has an afterlife. Wow. It's just really hard to know where to begin with that one.

Climbing steeply away from South Boulder Creek

Deepak's problems stem from the fact that he is a smart person with a background in Medicine. This means that he can talk "medical language" with confidence and in many areas of basic medical advice he is likely correct...well, I hope he is correct. However, some of Deepak's current beliefs completely contradict everything he was ever taught...and practiced...in medicine. For example, he believes in a "soul" and that humans have this because of the past activities of God...the Christian God apparently, who intervened in human evolution to implant a soul. There is nothing that can falsify this baseless assertion, but spoken by someone who lauds his "scientific" background, his credulous sycophants just lap it up. To be fair, "mainstream" religion makes similar claims, but they base them on theology (which is their version of just making stuff up).

But it is in the area of consciousness that Deepak truly excels. His assertions about consciousness are simply staggering. He emphatically states, for example, that consciousness exists outside of the brain. As I collect my jaw from the floor for a moment, this conflicts with absolutely everything we know about neurology. If our consciousness - awareness of self, if you will - exists completely separate from the brain, then why does brain damage so severely limit cognitive functioning related to specific capabilities? Why, even, do personality disorders exist? Surely, if there is a completely separate existence for consciousness then it ought to be possible to damage huge areas of the brain and yet retain a complete and rational sense of self. These small issues don't seem to concern Deepak in the slightest.

Crossing South Boulder Creek before the final ascent

While it is relatively easy to convince the gullible and credulous of his prowess, he tends to come unstuck when faced with scientists who really know what they are talking about. It's difficult not to watch this clip without cringing in embarrassment. Still, with a multi-million book publishing machine  - he churns about 4 out every year - behind him, he can afford to look completely and utterly stupid.

Final climb to the trailhead

The list of topics where Deepak is in opposition to established science appears limitless. His ignorance of "random" in genetic mutation from this 2008 article is another case in point. In fact, his view on evolution appear synonymous with those of "old earth"creationists. In this article we have Deepak arguing in favor of the non-scientific "intelligent design" theory as though he had something profound to say. It seems that when you have a world-view like Deepak, it is amazing how much evidence can be uncovered to support it.

It's going to be a long winter!!

Livvy taking a break at the trailhead

Walker Ranch

First mountain snow and thoughts on golf

It has been three weeks since my last mountain run. A combination of travel and visitors has curtailed my high level trips and I am also now constrained to two hours on the hills due to my wife travelling to Europe and three dogs at home to look after. A very early start and a nearby trailhead - Brainard Lake - were in order. I wore leggings, hat and gloves for the first time since March and at 26 degrees, minus 6, I was pleased at getting this decision right.

I could detect a lightening sky as Livvy and I set off from the trailhead. The peaks had fresh snow and there was ice and frost on the trail. We made reasonable progress along the north shore of Long Lake. We were the only ones on the trail and the isolation was a pleasure after such an intense month of travel. It felt great to be above 10,000 feet again and headed for the high country. My aim was to run for 75 minutes and then return straight back to the car. The dogs at home would be hungry.

At the Jean Lunning trail split the first sign of sun was striking the mountain tops and as we emerged from the dense woodland the mountains were illuminated in an orange glow. We quickly turned right where the Isabelle Lake trail kept straight and gained altitude just as the sun warmed my back. It was still below zero and a stiff katabatic wind blasted us in the face. I first encountered these strong winds when climbing in the French Alps 35 years ago. As the morning sun warms the air at lower elevations it rises quickly and draws air from higher levels causing a downdraft from mountain to valley. These winds can reach hurricane force...not what we experienced this morning, but very cold. My sac thermometer showed 24 degrees and it felt accurate.

The rising trail crosses streams at a number of points and the log bridges were heavily iced. Even studded trail shoes were hopeless and Livvy and I had a few anxious moments as we skated across. Falling in the water would have been disastrous and would have forced an immediate retreat.

The Ryder Cup is golf's greatest event. Yes, I know the Rest of the World feels left out and America's dismal recent run against Europe has meant they enjoy the President's Cup a little more these days, but the event is still a great one. And it seems, before the final day, that the US team will make amends for a string of defeats and turn the tables. I'm not sure I like the extreme patriotism and partiality with mega-rich golf stars winding up the crowds with their fist-pumps and shrieking and commentary from our US networks being so biased and Tiger-centric.

I really like golf. It's a game that has held a lifetime interest since our father took my brother and I to the local moorland golf course as toddlers and we swung our sawn-down clubs in an attempt to get the ball in the air. It was clear from those very early days that the difference between my brother and I was that he could hit the ball and I couldn't...it's a minor thing called "talent"...but the thing about golf is that a "handicap" system at least attempts to create some kind of parity. And when I say it was a "golf course", I don't mean in the beautiful green manicured sense of the term, I mean in the northern English, 3 feet high fairway grass with sheep droppings all over the greens (which may or may not have been mowed for 3 weeks) variety. It was only 9 holes but it was brutal and hilly and not necessarily the best preparation for a quick 18 hole round at Medinah.

I've never been able to separate my colorful memory of golf from the thought of sheep. In fact, as a child and teenager I though all golf courses had sheep to keep the "fairway" grass down below knee height. It was only when I started to pay more attention to photos of proper golf courses that I realized the absence of a flock or two on the fairways, there was no fencing around the greens and no clumps of sheep dung surrounding the hole...in fact, I could't see a broom next to each green for exactly this purpose. Maybe sheep and golf weren't synonymous.

About 15 years ago I even joined a local club. It was another 9 hole hilly course and although it was absent sheep on the fairways, these excessively dumb creatures were populating the adjacent fields. So I guess I felt at home. I recall my very first round vividly. I joined a group of three at the clubhouse who were willing to let me play with them. None seemed to possess what I would call a "golf physique" in the Tiger Woods sense of the term, indeed one of the players had trouble touching his hands around his considerable girth, but he looked immensely strong and when he did pick up a club it seemed to scream in pain in his grip. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at things), he wasn't able to transmit this obvious strength and power to hitting the golf ball - well, not in a way that was consistent with the general aim of the game, which is to get around the course in as few a number of shots as possible. From the first tee it became evident that this player was recycling a news reel - one of constant frustration, anger and bewilderment at each and every shot he took, followed by some rather colorful language emphatically stated as a threat. Had he been a 4th century Jesuit he would have self-flagellated around the entire course...and he would have deserved it. It wasn't that he couldn't hit the ball, it's just that he couldn't hit it in the general direction of the green...the green we were driving towards, that is.

He certainly connected well with the ball on the first tee box. It was a perfectly timed shot and the ball went a merry mile. I think I lost sight of it after it rebounded off a car windscreen in the club parking lot about 300 yards away, and I couldn't decide whether it went into the woods or a large field. I had him down for a score of 15 on the first hole as he marked his card angrily with an eight. However, it was what happened on the sixth tee that completely destroyed my round, and it happened without me playing a single shot. The previous hole he had awarded himself 4 shots on a par 3, despite me counting two balls that he hit out of bounds. His mathematically challenged stroke of the pen elevated him before me as we each took our drives on the sixth hole. He was third to drive. His cumulative score after 5 holes was 58 and even he recognized that this wasn't one of his better rounds. He removed his driver from his bag - a club, I should point out, that wasn't exactly his strong suit on the evidence so far - and started some very fast, almost violent practice swings, one of which removed an 18 inch long divot from the tee box without him even noticing. He took a stance that seemed to imply he was aiming for the right fairway and shook the stiffness out of his considerable belly and gripped the club. Sweat was dripping from his chin down his disheveled golf shirt. He was a picture, be in no doubt. I think the golfing term "grip it and rip it" was written for exactly this moment. The ball was going to get spanked and we all knew it.

I'm not sure the best slow motion camera in the world could slow down his swing for proper analysis, but as he wound back his arms the club seemed to scream in pain at the thought of the torque to come. There was so much pent up aggression in his downswing that his left foot slid backwards and he was already anticipating a fairway landing 400 yards away when the toe of his driver clipped the ball and it rocketed like a bullet 3 feet above the ground out of bounds to the right towards a group of grazing sheep. Had I not been standing behind him I would have missed the spectacle. The ball smacked one of them on the forehead square between the eyes. The sheep crumpled and it collapsed in a heap. It looked stone dead to me. I am convinced that at the moment of impact its eyes crossed ever so slightly before it blanked out. Meanwhile, and I don't recall how I was able to keep track of this, the ball, with a metallic ring still sounding in the air, ricocheted in a large, slow arc and landed in the middle of the fairway about 200 yards away. It was his best tee shot of the day. It is the only time in my entire life when I almost lost control of my bladder. The three of us, mimicking the sheep, collapsed for an entirely different reason and it took me a good 5 minutes before I could even grip my club. I was still laughing as I took my swing and sent my ball all of 20 yards. I never recovered.

In all the years of watching the Ryder Cup I've never seen anything quite as funny as that 6th tee experience. For all the talent of these overpaid pro's, I would bet money on none of them being able to repeat that shot.

I thought about these things as I completed the ascent of Pawnee Pass. It was enjoyable feeling the crunch of hard packed snow under my running shoes. I had selected my Walsh PB Trainers with a heavily studded sole for precisely this reason and although they have zero waterproofing, I wasn't expecting a lot of melting snow in the cold morning temperatures.

The views across Shoshoni Peak to Navajo were stunning in the early morning sunlight. It is still my ambition to take a trip up Navajo in the next few weeks, but the snow covering might turn this into a winter mountaineering trip rather than a trail run. We shall see...I expect we'll have some warming days during October and this might create a window where an attempt is worthwhile.

There's something about Livvy's enthusiasm that makes running these trails so much fun. It's as though she understands the rules. She knows that these runs aren't about darting from side to side pursuing interesting scents - which is what we do when walking - and she isn't remotely interested in dog treats. She just puts her nose infront and trots along. She gets tired like I do, but she seems just as excited to be out in the wilds. Running without a dog just isn't as much fun.

Washington, DC

Washington, DC, one of the world's finest capital cities, is a little surreal. Its carefully manicured street and parks around the monuments on the National  Mall stand in contrast to its seedier neighborhoods to the south east and north east - areas where untidy and unkempt streets are littered with the bullet-ridden bodies of the drug wars. But it's surreal for other reasons, both related to politics.

First, it is home to about 650,000 government workers. The heavy density (and I choose the word carefully - dare I call them a "thicket"?) of flexi-time and part-time, largely disengaged individuals, turn the District's beltway into a parking lot from about 5am. It seems, in the interests of "public service" that huge numbers of these employees attempt to "clock" their hours early enough not to actually have to meet and greet the public they are paid to serve. While this isn't an altogether bad thing it does mean that long lines in key government departments necessitate a day off work for a visit that should really only take minutes in actual service time. The morning "rush hour" lasts from 5am to about 9am. The afternoon "rush hour" starts at about 1pm and dribbles along for the rest of the afternoon. The pervasive active disengagement of such large sections of the city's working population manifests in attitudinal dissonance on subways and buses and represents a viral contagion that spreads via proximity. Misery, so it is claimed, enjoys company. Extreme unhappiness appears to be their only pleasure in life. The infrequent exceptions - the ones daring to offer a glimmer of a smile - prove the rule.

Second, DC provides the stage for the nation's only real soap opera - the tragi-comedy that plays daily between Capital Hill and the White House. This week, in the thick of election campaigning, it was unusually quiet. Only "rent-a-mouth" Newt Gingrich, was making the usual disgraceful headlines offering his version of moral clarity defending Senator Akin's "rape" comments. There is something a little perverse about a serial philanderer and charlatan offering comments on moral certitude, but this doesn't cause Newt to pause for a second. I guess divine inspiration has its benefits. The reflexive muscle that connects his jaw to his knee, jerks in a way that completely bypasses his diminishing brain, and he spews forth nonsense without his stupidity ever registering or troubling his synapses. For the leading Republican "intellectual" thought leader, these are barren times. Consistently on the wrong side of all the issues that will come to define this age, Newt exists in a time-warp of his own making, caught between pretending to be scientific while maintaining his support for a party who denies the reality of climate change, evolution and a whole series of other "settled" scientific problems. I recall attending one of Newt's speeches at a private gathering. His full throttled contempt for "Obamacare" was woven into a Biblically justified hostility that claimed the moral high ground for himself...as though, somehow, attempting to provide basic healthcare for all represented a crime against humanity. The echo of his words had hardly dimmed when I stood, as the first questioner, and made the obvious point. " If it is morally wrong, for ethical reasons, to provide universal healthcare, was it morally right for you to cheat on two wives, one of whom was suffering from cancer at the time, and to lead the impeachment of a sitting President for allegations of misconduct that you, yourself, we're at that very time committing?" As a so-called student of history, Newt could only manage a form of historical revisionism of the type that the author of the Hitler diaries well understood. It seems that there is little difference between lying for Jesus and misleading others for a greater cause...apparently behavior that will reward him as one of the chosen few in the life hereafter. Hell sounds idyllic by comparison.

I managed two circuits of the town on successive days. The Reflecting Pond has never, in my view, been a place that encourages reflection. Standing at the Washington Monument the Lincoln Memorial is beautifully framed by a setting sun and the water is bright orange and yellow. I enjoy the long, straight pathways that connect these two structures. I can step out more purposefully and the wide avenues enable me to avoid the inconsiderate groups who persist in walking across the whole pathway. 

My first run took me to the north of the Lincoln Memorial, across the Arlington bridge and upstream on the West Bank of the Potomac. I chose the diversion around Roosevelt Island which includes about 1.5 miles on an elevated boardwalk. There were few people around and lots of wildlife. There are few places in DC where it is possible to escape the noise of traffic, but the north end of this island is one of them.

Georgetown high street is a place to avoid and I dropped down to K Street and picked up the Ohio and Chesapeake canal before rejoining 24th Street just before Washington Circle, NW. 9.5 miles of reasonably  quick running and I was tired.

My second run was less adventurous. Taking the same initial route as my first run I opted to circle the Basin around the Roosevelt and Jefferson Memorials before taking the south trail along the National Mall to Capital Hill. This is always a busy place with runners and cyclists competing for space with the large numbers of daily tourists. Approaching darkness helped thin the numbers and made running easier, but this also brought the added obstacle of homeless people lying on the verges, grabbing whatever sleep they could before the capital police moved them along. 

I did see one spectacular collision and was thankful not to have been involved. The lake and fountain directly in front of Capital Hill always attracts photographers at nightfall. The illuminated dome reflected in the water is a favorite snapshot. It's strange, but even with zoom lenses on the most basic cameras, many aspirant photographers seem to need to take several steps backwards to better frame their chosen picture. Their movements aren't always easy to predict, and a runner just ahead of me took a flyer over a backward stepping leg, crumpled on the concrete and then rolled into the water. Shock quickly turned into anger and in no time the offending photographer was dragged into the water and his camera submerged with him. Excessive retribution, even disproportionate, but only egos were hurt and I quickly skipped by and disappeared into the dark.

I can't seem to imagine a "President Romney". This socially inept, out of touch multi-millionaire seems about as qualified for President as Sarah Palin was for Vice-President four years ago. Even Newt seems lukewarm in his endorsement. If Romney can't excite mercurial Neanderthals like Newt he'll have a hard time dealing with Obama's sophisticated reasoning. Even magic underwear and the will of God won't turn this situation in his favor. Still, when defeat is confirmed at least Newt will be able to explain the reason - Romney just wasn't praying to the same God as him. I spent the last few miles fearing that Washington somehow contributed to people becoming stupid and I wondered if I would be smart enough to know if I was similarly affected.

New York on 9/11

I seem to belong to a socio-political section of US society that Republicans, and particularly those who inhabit the Christian fundamentalist/evangelical fringe of that once respectable party, most despise. Socially Liberal, I support Gay marriage, equal pay, affirmative action and the right of women to make their own decisions regarding their bodies. Based on the "no harm to others" principle, my laissez-faire liberalism takes zero interest in what others are doing in the privacy of their own homes. As an atheist I am self-classified as one of the most reviled and distrusted "religious" (for that is how my atheism is classified on the State Department census) groups in America. This takes the biscuit, so to speak, that considering the reaction of American's to Muslims after 9/11, they are still more trusted than atheists. It doesn't matter how nasty a list of people you create, from terrorists to murderers and even rapists, atheists always come bottom. I recalled an exchange with an acquaintance of mine who, for reasons I cannot fathom, is a Biblical literalist (of the kind who believes the earth is 6000 years old and the Theory of Evolution a hoax perpetrated by evil scientists who will one day be punished by God...although the punishment - that of being cast into hell- seems preferable to me than the genuflecting servitude in perpetuity to whatever deity is alleged to be in control of heaven these days). My question to her was simple enough - "Is it better for society to have a law-abiding, productive atheist engaged in philanthropy, or a serial murderer who 'discovers' Jesus, repents, and becomes "born again"? I'll let you guess on her answer.

But these all pale to insignificance when I add yet another "strike" to my "most distrusted" moniker - that of being a vegetarian. After disclosure of this rather unalarming fact about my dietary preferences the questions follow a similar pattern.

"Surely you eat chicken...that's not really meat? I have a vegetarian friend who eats chicken every once in a while"

"Do you eat fish?"

It seems churlish to pedantically point out that the term to describe such individuals is "meat eaters", but I do point this out, and it is clearly confusing.

But at some point the true feelings of people surface.

"Wasn't Hitler a vegetarian?"

That's a tricky one. Yes, Hitler was a vegetarian. He was also male, small, dark haired and European, and I am all those as well. But whereas I draw the line between myself and Hitler at that point I'm not thoroughly convinced that my questioners do as they sit there waiting for my confession of guilt for war crimes and the Holocaust...except for that growing group of Republicans who seem hell bent on denying the Holocaust ever happened.

It isn't easy being a vegetarian in America. For a country so technologically advanced it is surprising it can't get the math right on simple food production regarding wheat and animal protein. With huge swathes of the country seduced by the vision of consuming a plate full of cow every night, it is easy to see why they might view vegetarians as strange. The honorably motivated organizers and supporters of PETA (Peaople for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) have been skewered, so to speak, by those sporting bumper stickers proclaiming People Eat Tasty Animals. 

Suspicion of vegetarianism explains so much about the levels of ignorance in standards of food preparation and is my number one eating annoyance. I once visited a Subway store to order a "veggie" sandwich. The person ahead of me had a meatball sandwich with extra meat. The dribbles of barbecue sauce smeared the counter top ahead of my sandwich. Attempting to point this out felt like I was communicating in a foreign language. "I don't want my sandwich touching that meat sauce". The rest isn't even worth describing and when the server cut my sandwich with the knife that had only just been used on the meatball sandwich I walked out in disgust.

It's not that people don't want to help, it's that they show a level of ignorance that is staggering. But the bigger problem is where there is even no attempt to even cater for the possibility that someone might not eat meat. As I write this on board another United Airlines flight I have just been asked, in the first class cabin, whether I would like a shrimp salad, a hot chicken sandwich, or a turkey sandwich. Hmmmmm. That's a tough choice. "Well, I can pick the shrimp off the salad if you like", is the most helpful suggestion. "No, no, I couldn't possibly ask you to do that." A small pack of Almonds comes in handy for precisely these situations.

It was surreal to be in New York again on the 11th anniversary of 9/11. I recall visiting a few weeks after that disastrous day when the thick, acrid smoke and dust was still so very much evident across southern Manhattan. I couldn't take in the magnitude of what had happened. I was still struggling to imagine being faced with the "choice" of burning to death or jumping a hundred stories to my death and wondered how bad it was for so many to have chosen the latter as preferable.

I thought about some of these issues as I ran a circuit of southern Manhattan in the shadow of the new World trade center building, at about the time of the morning when these events happened 11 years ago. It was a beautiful, warm morning, just like 11 years ago. Clear blue skies with just a faint breath of wind. I thought about that morning and how so many people would have been doing what I was currently doing...and what others were still doing - tourists enjoying the morning, couples sitting in Battery Park, a ferry heading off to Staten Island, cyclists heading out towards Brooklyn Bridge, an elderly couple enjoying an expresso and bagel on the pavement cafe.

As bad news spreads about violence erupting in the Muslim world in response to the insensitive, but protected, free speech of an underwhelming "film editor", we have to remind ourselves to hold firm against such disproportionate and oppressive behavior. The cherished freedoms that were so much the focus of what was attacked that terrible day 11 years ago, must not be part of what we negotiate away in response to those who use violence and murder as justifiable expressions of their hurt feelings.

Jasper Peak

Questions

The shortening days are more noticeable as we head into Fall. Two months ago I was driving to Hessie in sunlight - today it was darkness. I parked up as the sky was lightening. It was 32 degrees and a crisp frost covered the ground. It would undoubtedly get warmer as the sun climbed, but this first hour was going to be challenging. I still haven't accepted the need to carry a lightweight fleece or gloves...maybe two more weeks and I'll succumb to the inevitable.

Fall colors are evident everywhere, and earlier than last year. Even below 10,000 feet the grasses are showing distinct autumnal tinges.

With the political conventions now over the Presidential election is in full swing and there is a lot for a nation to think about. I followed events as carefully as travel enabled and my general feelings have been negative. I was particularly disappointed with the lost opportunity to put both candidates on the spot with respect to science and how their views of science would impact policy. Scientific American polled eminent scientists and came up with a series of questions to which both candidates have responded. The questions are terrible and are phrased in such a way as to allow candidates to waffle. The outcome is that I am no clearer on where either candidate stands with regards to science. For example, the following questions should have been asked...

• if the findings of science contradict your beliefs, which will carry precedent and why?
• do you believe and accept the theory of evolution? If not, what is the scientific basis of your rejection?
• do you accept the scientific fact of climate change caused largely by human activity? If not, what is the scientific basis of your rejection?
• when does human life begin and what scientific evidence supports your opinion?
• would you support stem cell research and provide state funding?
• what have you learned from recent scientific research in molecular biology and the human genome?
• can you provide an example of where you changed an established belief because of scientific discovery?

Scientific American completely ducked the issue in my view and I am left with only a rough idea of how I think the respective candidates would align on these issues. Sadly, I think Romney will be the most challenged. 

Hessie is my favorite trailhead and I enjoy all the routes that depart from here. Leaving so early meant I would have the initial trail to myself and I set off towards Jasper Lake on the Devil's Thumb trail.

The temperature rose as we climbed towards the lake which lies just below 11,000 feet. The trail is steep in places and I wasn't interested in breaking any speed records today. I think Livvy was relieved and we just took our time gaining altitude in the early morning sun.

I passed by Jasper Lake just a few weeks ago and I was surprised how low the water was today in comparison. The route we would follow involved skirting the south shoreline passing the campsites. There is a sign for Camp 7 which is the trail to take and this eventually deposits you by the entry creek at the extreme west end of the lake. In the photo above Jasper Peak is in the far distance left of center. It lies just below 13,000 feet so we still had 2,600 feet of climbing ahead of us. We would follow the creek up the obvious valley toward Storm Lake.

This is the view back to Jasper Lake as we began to ascend next to the creek.

This is the view up the creek from the same point as the previous photo.There is a very good trail up to Storm Lake...after that it is definitely off trail.

I'm annoyed with Romney for reasons that have much more to do with the fact that he is Republican. I know, and like, many Republicans, but Romney annoys me because he so obviously is prepared to do and say anything to become President. His stance on Gay marriage is just one example.

There was a lot of coverage last week of a a pro-footballer declaring his support for Gay marriage and being reprimanded by a politician (a Democrat no less) who seemed to want to limit his First Amendment rights. Then we had the spectacle of a Veteran confronting Romney directly on the issue of Gay marriage. What started out as an ideal photo opp for Romney quickly deteriorated as the reality of his questioner sunk in.

So what is it with Republicans and Gay marriage? Clearly the influence of the evangelical Christian right is at the heart of this, but surely they see public opinion is working against them? And what right does any human have to restrict the freedoms of other humans for reasons based on bigotry and ignorance? As we see Romney repeat that he believes "marriage is between a man and a woman", what is he frightened of? What does he care what the couple next door do in the privacy of their own home?

So I have some questions for Romney on the issue of Gay marriage.

• in what way does gay marriage constitute a threat to heterosexual marriage?
• do you believe that individuals "choose" to be gay? If so, at what point in your life did you "choose" not to be gay?
• does the presence of married gays cause you to have doubts about your own sexual orientation? Are you concerned that you'll suddenly be tempted to be gay?
• you have publicly stated your support for heterosexual marriage is because of procreation, so why allow infertile couple to marry? Why allow mentally retarded couple to marry?

This issue is the purest form of bigotry and has everything to do with pandering to the fears expressed by the lowest common denominator in this debate. We need a President who can take a moral lead, not one who fans the flames of bigotry.

As I thought about these issues this morning I tried to remain optimistic and kept trying to refocus on my environment.

Approaching Storm Lake the view back to Jasper was beautiful. The screeches of Alpine Marmots kept Livvy entertained and I knew we still had a lot of climbing ahead of us.

We skirted to the right (north) of Storm Lake and struck up the slope towards Jasper peak directly below the tiny snowfield just left of center. 

The cold of the morning seems to be conveyed by this photo. A breeze was blowing across the lake and I didn't want to hang around. 

Just below 12,000 feet we passed Upper Storm Lake. This lake is nearly always ice-bound the whole year, but the warm summer has released it from its ice coating. 

The final mile up to the summit was brutal. The peak of Jasper on the skyline is actually a false summit and we struck up the grass slopes taking a direct line to the obvious col. This slope was 56 degrees in places and it took longer than I expected to reach the summit.

I was surprised to find only a light wind on the summit. I signed the summit register - we were only the 22nd ascentionists this year. Jasper Peak is often admired from afar but very rarely visited because the approach is so long - I clocked 7.25 miles on my GPS, and we still hadn't reached half-way on our intended trip.

Mount Neva lay to the north. I had ascended this peak a month or so ago from the far side and then descended between the lakes in the foreground. That was a great trip.

After a 10 minute break we descended to the south aiming for Devil's Peak, which is the small mound at the end of the obvious ridge. It is possible to see James Peak way in the distance top left.

We got a great view of the Devil's Thumb and the lake of the same name as we descended the steep shoulder. I could see, in the distance, the first human activity of the morning.

We were both tired at this point and we had steep talus to descend towards the Devil's Thumb trail. It was going to be another 90 minutes before we would get back to the car.

Lest you are in any doubt that Fall is early this year, the evidence was all around us.

Stag Hill, Mahwah, NJ

I like to argue with GPS units. More specifically, I like to prove them wrong and it drives my wife nuts. I'm never without good cause, at least in my mind, for protesting the calculated route. And I'm always right. And the evidence I am always right are the countless times when I have been right. Except when I've been wrong. But those times have been so few and far between that I can almost discount them. Unfortunately the number of times I claim I've been vindicated don't tally with the number of times when my wife says I erred. I guess that makes her as bad as the GPS unit. At least at calculating route effectiveness. After all, I'm right so often...nearly all the time.

And it isn't a male thing. Is it? I generally have a very good sense of direction...an awareness of where I am in space and time. I tend to know what direction I am heading, or can work it out by the position of the sun and the rough time of day. I know how to detect North when in a forest. I can work out directions from the stars. I can generally backtrack turns in my head when driving to figure out whether I should turn left or right at the next junction. At a fork in a trail I have good instinct for taking one rather than the other. How could I ever be wrong when up against a GPS unit?

It doesn't matter whether I am talking about the portable Garmin unit I plug into my car, or the built in model in my wife's car, these units speak in such a smugly, annoyingly polite accent they deserve to be challenged every time they say something. It's not just that they are wrong, they deserve to be wrong. And I like to prove it.

Apparently it is now possible to download regional accents (as well as foreign language versions) to GPS units in both male and female voices. Who cares? Smug certitude is just as annoying from a New England female as it is in Irish brogue. Personally, I think these GPS companies have missed an opportunity to truly "connect" with their customers. I would like a GPS unit that spoke with an "attitude". Rather than accents, it would be preferable to select from speech styles, such as, 

"mildly sarcastic" ("Oh, who's a clever boy that he thinks he knows a quicker way than me?"), 

"moderately insulting" ("are you usually this stupid or are you making a special effort just for me?"), 

"extreme exasperation" ("any more nonsense from you and I'll switch myself off"), 

"unpredictably contrary" ("quick, turn left...left...left...errr, I meant right"), 

"Mitt Romney" ("if it makes you happier turn right, but I'm with you whatever way you choose"), 

"downright abusive" ("you complete and utter numbskull"), through to the coup de grace, 

the "Ozzy Osbourne" ("what the *?x# did you do then you $&-*^~#"). Now that would be something worth arguing with.

Rather than the purely descriptive "Recalculating..." it would be much more invigorating to hear "You blithering idiot, why don't you do as you are told?" If voice programmers could induce a sense of sporadic randomness into these responses it could even simulate an argument...of sorts...and make the outcome truly one of win-lose.

But I digress. I had neither GPS unit nor physical map on my recent work trip to New Jersey. Yes, I know...New Jersey...whatever was I doing there? After all, when making choices does NJ ever get a look in? I'll refrain from comments like "Grass? What color is that?" when talking about the local populace, but there are parts of the state that are beautiful. I regret that I was negatively influenced by much early train travel through the state when riding from Baltimore to New York almost every week a few years ago. The stretch from Trenton through to Newark was a miserable experience of graffiti and litter in a depressed industrial wasteland sprinkled with refineries and container depots. The locals didn't "live", they merely existed. But then I discovered western NJ...the bit that borders Pennsylvania...especially towards the north, and the rolling, wooded hills stretching to the Appalachian Trail were very pleasant.

I have never been that clear about the boundaries of the town of Mahwah, but the Sheraton Hotel, where I have stayed on many occasions, overlooks some nice green hills and I was tempted by some hilly roads and trails that crossed this terrain. I had neither map nor GPS, so nothing to argue with. I needed to trust that sense of judgment of mine. It was late afternoon and I enjoy running in strange territory, not quite sure what to expect. Leaving the hotel I passed close to a small group of Roe deer grazing on the verge. Alert, but unthreatened, they kept a close eye as I approached and then left. One day they won't be so lucky navigating traffic or a hunter's bullet.

Stag Hill road climbs away from a busy intersection through a wooded hillside. I was glad to be wearing a bright yellow tee shirt as the traffic that did pass had that aggressive city feel to it exuding both impatience and lack of care for others. The plan was to do a loop by running to Mountain Drive and then following some fire breaks through the woods. I was careful to align the direction of the sun to the route I was taking to help provide some bearing to which I could calibrate.

I was a little shocked by how steep some of these sections of road were. I'm used to steep climbs in Colorado, but somehow I had allowed my mind to assume that a road wouldn't be as steep...and it wasn't as steep, it just seemed that way. I was blowing quickly and my effort level was high as I reached the top of the 600 foot ascent after about 2.5 miles. Mountain Drive came a little quicker than I expected, but I headed west and looked out for the trail ahead. Climbing again through a residential block the road turned into a twisting and turning dirt trail. This didn't feel right. Google maps had seemed to suggest a pretty straight line and I was weaving all over the place. After about a half mile the trail did straighten and it felt like the general direction was right so I plodded along. The tall trees framing the fire break gave me little choice and the dense woodland was definitely to be avoided.

I wasn't wearing trail shoes and had to dance around deep rain pools and muddy sections, but the running was interesting. The direct line of the firebreak cut across the undulations of the hill side and there were some very steep sections, both up and down and the trail turned very rocky and unstable in many places. 

I really dislike the disrespect some of my fellow humans show for their environment. Our "throw-away" culture extends far beyond household trash to old motor vehicles, shopping carts and household appliances, all rusting and decaying and fouling what would otherwise be very pleasant countryside. I don't know what they are thinking as they foul their nests. It would be no surprise to find that some of the most vociferous deniers of global warming come from this same section of the population.

I kept my eye on the declining sunlight as it colored the treetops and felt confident that my direction was right and, sure enough, I came to a trail junction that matched what I recalled from the map. With no hesitation I turned left and knew that in about 1.5 miles I would hit the road. This section was particularly bad for litter and rusting vehicles yet, paradoxically, was teeming with wildlife. About 20 deer skipped across the trail just in front of me and I gave a wide berth to a slower moving skunk. 

With my thoughts drifting and my eyes only casually scanning the route ahead I was startled by a loud crack and a group of rabbits scattering in the grass only a few steps in front of me. A man with a gun emerged from the trees to claim his prize completely unconcerned by my proximity and clearly disinterested in the obvious danger he had caused. Grabbing his gun and twisting the barrel into a figure eight quickly crossed my mind but I quickly recalled very good advice my father gave me many years ago - never argue with people who carry guns, or with those who can fight back with ink (newspapers). I completely ignored the hunter and took pleasure from him missing his target. I clapped my hands loudly and the rabbits who had settled further up the trail bounced into the woods. These are small pleasures in life. 200 yards further up the trail I passed a sign declaring hunting to be illegal in the area and quickly concluded the futility of efforts to control those with such willful intent to break the law.

I had one objective on rejoining the road and turning back to the hotel - could I beat my personal best for running a mile. Currently set at 6 minutes 49 seconds (not exactly threatening any records) when running along the lake front in Chicago, I thought I might stand a good chance. But I had covered about 7.5 miles already and had also done over 1000 feet of ascent. Still, I could try. I pushed myself as quick as I was able on the relatively flat finish. I checked my watch and had covered a half mile in 3 minutes 20 seconds, so definitely on target. But the second half mile was too hard. I was tiring and I also knew there was a 400 yard climb just around the corner. I glanced at my watch as I completed the measured mile - 7 minutes and 1 second. Not bad, but disappointing.

As I turned onto the hotel approach road the Roe deer were still grazing. Two had chosen to lie down and some younger deer were playing in long grass. I didn't much rate their chances of long term survival and pondered the destructive behavior of some humans. But don't get me started on guns...that is going to require an essay all of its own.

Still, some complex navigation was achieved without the need for a GPS and the arguments they provoke. I'll see if I can find an Ozzy Osbourne voice for my car GPS and then just watch for my wife's reaction when I switch it on. Maybe she won't be able to tell the difference.