Guns, Beer, and Snow

First and foremost, I must say I feel sorry for all you folks that are still working full time; I believe a month long vacation is what everyone needs.  Who knows though, I'm only 2 weeks or so into mine, maybe I'll get tired of vacating and recreating.

I've been in the Reno-Carson-Tahoe area for a bit more than a week now, and the radness keeps coming.

On my first day in town, I basically just kicked it with my mom, ate some sushi, decompressed from the drive up.  That same day my grandma had a hip replacement done, so we went to visit her the next day in the Carson City hospital and played a round of golf with my uncle, Steve and his friend Pat.  While I sucked it up in many respects, I was psyched to find out that the game doesn't really leave you;  I made one rad ass chip in, hit some good drives, and sleighed it with the irons.  My putting sucked bad, which is about standard for not playing for 2 years.  We played golf the right way though: carts and lots of Coors.  I don't know why I didn't play golf this way through high school, it makes for a way better, more relaxed game.  Nobody cares, and ends up having way more fun.  Snobby rich folk tend to make this silly game into some life or death matter, when in reality, it's nothing but a mega-luxury.  Why not make it even more luxurious with cold beer and skids through corners in the little electric carts?

(steve and pat, shredding the shit out of their cart)

Following a round of golf and in order to keep up with the middle class niceties, my Mom took me wine tasting outside of Placerville, CA.  I like wine most definitely, but sometimes descriptions like "mildly under-ripe raspberry overtones with subtle hints of Mexican cinnamon and a robust leathery finish reminiscent of John Wayne's belt in Dakota" can be a little over the top.  An interesting thing happened when we walked into the first winery.  An exceedingly cute server in a black dress stared at me for a solid five or six seconds  as soon as we entered.  My mom noticed this and asked "Do you want to see his I.D?" assuming that that was why her stare lasted so long.  I thought the server looked familiar, but passed it off as a mere coincidence.  In response to my mom's question, she said "No, but I think I know you from somewhere."  Confused and intimidated, I mumbled something back about her maybe living in Arizona, then it struck her - I sold her a bike, a 17 inch Myka Sport Disc I believe in May!  We chatted about Flag-istan for a bit, and then I proceeded to drink a bunch of wine, without getting her name, number, or anything of the sort.  Something just doesn't sit right "trying to chat up some philly" with your mom around.  The fortuitous and haphazard nature of our meeting seemed meaningful, but ascribing meaning to these sorts of things is silly.  Running into someone you sold a bike to in Flagstaff in some tiny California mountain town is no more coincidental or meaningful than finding a pair of socks that matches in the dryer.  Through the rest of the day, we went to a few more wineries, then ended up watching some band of old guys play classic rock covers and a bunch of middle aged hippy sorta folks frolic in the dim light of the evening.

Kelsey, a friend I met in Belgium, flew into Reno the day after wine tasting.  We by-passed the whole Reno thing for a moment, and went straight to Steve's house.  That night, we shot the shit, drank a bunch of beer, and fell asleep pretty early.  The next morning, we were all up early, loaded up the dog, some rifles, handguns, and a few other gun-like things into Steve's Toyota Tercel and shredded that sub-compact out to a impromptu shooting rang.  We blasted through a bunch of .22 ammo, some .38 ammo, a few shotgun shells, and totally annihilated some Coors tallboyz, clay pigeons, and some targets on cardboard boxes.  Shooting guns is such a liberating experience - I don't understand why, but it probably has to do with the loud noises and destruction.

(kelsey, blowing up the scene with a pistol)

Post explosions, we resupplied ourselves with the necessary equipment for a hot Nevada afternoon (a 12 pack of Pabst) and drove out to American Flats, an old destroyed smelter that somehow got covered in graffiti.  It's sorta like Mad Max meets N.W.A, or something like that, and made me think about what's going to happen to all the Safeway's, Targets, HomeDepots, strip malls, head shops, and freeways once the inevitable collapse comes about.  Bird shit will probably become the new graffiti and the post-human wasteland will inspire some rodents to collect their thoughts in order to write passively sentimental songs about the coming endtimes...  I could rant more about American Flats, but pictures do better.

(roger sneaked a drink of this water and started glowing...)

(Steve gets his Pabst on)

(roger gets it)

(a brightly colored Rome?)

We killed the 12-pack, then headed up to Virginia (Vagina?) City, where we could enjoy a shot of Maker's Mark and, of course, another Pabst.  The bartender at the Bucket of Blood was so drunk she forgot how much all the product was, couldn't add 12 and 9 together, or read the birthday on my driver's license... That's what you want, and what you get in Jerome done the Nevada way.

(oh yeah, free popcorn too!)

After finishing up our drinks, checking out the Suicide Table (tourist trap in another bar), we loaded up the Tercel and headed back to Steve's house for some delicious homegrown rabbit dinner, acid jazz, and a tincture that made my head spin around in multiple directions and orientations.

A 2.99 Breakfast special was in order after the Shooting-Drinking-Graffiti Day, then some swimming up at Lake Tahoe.  Kelsey and I went to Secret Cove, a nude beach, after hiking around the forest for a few hours.    Swimming in the summertime can't really be beat by anything.  Well maybe shredding mountain bikes, but...

(Roger swam more than I've ever seen him, and hated every moment of it) 

  We loaded back up in the truck and drove back to my mom's house to plan our next adventure.


Initially, I wanted to hike from Echo Lake to Tahoe City on the Tahoe Rim trail, but the conditions there were still way too snowy, icy, and generally sketchy.  All the lakes above a certain elevation were still frozen over, the streams that drained them were flooding, and there were 8 foot deep snow drifts everywhere.  Goddamn north facing shit and hella snowpacks.  Instead, Kelsey and I decided to hike from Brockway Summit to Spooner Summit.  This segment went over the highest point on the TRT, and is on the north side of the lake on south facing slopes, so the snow should have been a lot more manageable.  This section of trail was about 42 or 43 miles, so we decided that 10 mile days would be more than easy.  Packing our backpacks and getting ready the morning we left took longer than expected and we got hiking around 11:30 A.M, and ended up hiking 12 miles before decided to camp at the base of Relay Peak.  Right before we found a camping spot, we hiked though a bunch of off-camber snow; it was tiring and marginals sketchy, as the snow was starting to ice up a bit.     The next morning we ate some bagels with peanut butter and got an early start, and got to Tahoe Meadows super quick like.  The next 10 miles went by fast as well, bringing us about 5 miles away from a free campground with potable water and bear boxes.  Shit-yeah!  We hammered that out, and got to camp around 5 pm after putting in a 21 mile day.  Well shit, there went out 10 mile per day plan. We woke up the next day, and finished up the last 10 miles before 10:30 am, thus we ended up doing the whole 43 miles stretch in less than 47 hours! Nothing extraordinary, but pretty rad none the less.  I gotta say, the scenery was world class, and the mountain biking looked even better.  Many times, I saw a turn, or a rock move and wished I was on my bike instead of carrying a 35 pound pack...  Finishing the hike left us pretty far from the truck, so we threw out our thumbs.  I bet Kelsey a buck that a Subaru would pick us up and won it. Two middle aged sisters picked us up, asking if we were paint huffers.  Of course, we said no, and they said hop in.  They also misunderstood where we were going so they drove us around to the south side of the lake instead of toward the North.  Oddly enough, they told us about their blown dates, single's night at WHole Foods, invited us to go kayaking with them, and asked for advice on how to let guys down easily.  We respectfully declined their offer of kayaking, and starting thumbing again.  The next car to stop was filled with two girls closer to our age and a bunch of comforters, but they weren't going quite far enough, so we declined that ride in hopes of another.  A dude in a massive F350 stopped and said "Man, I hop you guys are cool or have some weed..."  We didn't so I hoped we were cool.  He told us a story about being on a three day bender, taking a bunch of Zanex and waking up that morning with his eyes glued shut, then about going to Bassnectar shows (they changed his life), and doing designer club drugs with Widespread Panic's personal chemist at BBQs in San Fran.  The dude loved to party, snowmobile and paddleboard.  Luckily, he was going to Truckee, so he took us all the way to our truck.    He let us out, we hopped in El Trook, and drove to Mont Bleu Casino where we saw an add for 99 cent margaritas and tacos.  God damn, I love casinos for their cheap food and drink - we ate 3 or 4 tacos each and drank... 6 margaritas each, and left paying less than 10 bucks a piece.  

(hella snow in the end of July)

(where was my bike)

(little lake by our first camp site)

(the wildflowers were blowing up)

(Relay Peak, the highest point on the Tahoe Rim Trail)

(one of too many scenic views)

(end of the hike)

(some gnarly snow drifts and cornices)

(first camp site)

(second camp site, notice the table and bear box)

(Snow Valley Peak and a rad little meadow)

Kesley and I were doggin' a bit the day after the hike, our feet were wrecked, and couldn't think of anything to do.  Thus, I called Casey Clark to see what was going in in the Reno area.  It turned out that there was a crit in downtown Reno, with goldsprints at the finish line (put on by the Reno Bike Project), and drinking in public was accepted.  We met up with Clark with a 24 pack, a cooler, and an afternoon to drink away.  We gold sprinted (The bike project guys got the award girls, who were dressed like cocktail waitresses to race after the pro men finished), we drank, we screamed, we taunted, we made fun of road bikers, we were humbled by road bikers, and lastly, we left the park to deliver a donated bike to the Bike Project.   I had the my cafe racer, so Kelsey got the donation.  After 3 or so pedal strokes, the left crankarm fell off, the seat slammed, and Kelsey was forced to skate whilst sitting on the rear rack.  Casey brought us to a end of July thanksgiving dinner, complete with turkey, stuffing, that strange cranberry stuff, and bien-sur, more beer.  Kesley started falling asleep in the chair, so we got the boot from the party.  On the bike ride back to Casey's house, we lost track of Clark, then I got lost riding around the neighborhoods the west of downtown Reno.  After rediculous cell-phoning and coordinating, we made it back Casey's house for some sleeping.  We awoke this morning, ate delicious breakfast burritos at Michaels Deli and saw a homeless dude who said:  "I gotta collect cans for a few days so I can afford some cigarettes."   That demonstrates a level of commitment (additional?) that I have yet to feel about anything.

We're heading to San Francisco tomorrow, another update coming soon I imagine.