Hike This: Pilot Rock

We've been married just over two weeks now and are just back from the most epic awesome amazing backpacking honeymoon.... lots of photos and trail beta to share from that soon! In the mean time, I wanted to blog about this great hike in Ashland, Oregon (where we got married): Pilot Rock. 

Views from Pilot Rock.

Pilot Rock is a "volcanic plug" in the Cascade range and comes in just under 6,000 feet. You can read all about it in this BLM publication (it's also located on Bureau land, part of the Cascade-Siskiyou National Monument). We invited friends and family to join us for the walk/mountain scamper the day before our June 20th wedding because it's short enough for most people to handle, offers panoramic views of the Rogue Valley, Cascade Mountains and Siskiyou range, and it has a little steep section at the end that challenges the toughest of hikers. 

This hike, a spur off the PCT, is about 1.25 miles each way with 1000 feet of elevation gain. In recent years, the trail had been rerouted slightly and updated to avoid a sensitive bird habitat and prevent erosion. It's nice, and a bit more manageable to get up and down -- no more scree slopes -- but the rock climbing aspect at the end remains. 

The climb.

Possibly, I didn't fully explain the summiting information with the dozen or so people I convinced to hike with us before the wedding. I also maybe forgot how challenging that scramble is, despite doing the hike a few times in college and in the fall, when M and I took his parents and the dogs. That time, we all made it to the rock-climbing part of the hike. Mike and I summited while his parents hung back with the pups.

Luckily, the friends with babies and small children peaced out on the hike, so we didn't have to haul littles up two chutes and some low-grade free climbing. Instead, our crew grabbed beers and strolled up the trail, checking out wildflowers and urging the dogs along. There's not much to report in terms of how the hike went. We walked, most of us climbed the rocks and took in the views, then we walked back. No one got hurt and I even kept my manicure intact by wearing gardening gloves for the rock climbing. The whole hike takes maybe an hour. 

Pre-wedding group outing.

Driving directions: 

- From downtown Ashland, head SE on Siskiyou Blvd/99. Stay on this road through town.
- Merge onto I-5, heading South, just South of town.
- Take exit 6 towards Mt Ashland. Follow this past Mt Ashland and under the interstate.
- Turn left on Pilot Rock Road/BLM 40-2E-33.
- Follow this till a parking lot/old quarry appears on the right. This is the trailhead.

Lets Get Sweaty

M and I decided to kick our yoga game up a notch or three this year and, for the first time ever, I've found myself going to yoga class two or even three times a week AND IT'S HARD. Total surprise. This is a complete departure from my long-held contention that yoga is not exercise.

This change of pace came rather by accident; our gym offers free yoga classes and we got hooked on this one instructor, Yogi Greg. But all good things must come to an end, and Yogi Greg's tenure at Cabrillo Fitness expired when the Highway 1 evening commute became too soul-sucking for our pop-culture-savvy, sometimes-foul-mouthed Zen guru.

So we did what any fan does: we followed our yogi to a studio that specializes in hot vinyasa yoga and pilates. Although I only make it to one of Yogi Greg's classes a week, I've found a couple other instructors I enjoy taking classes from.

M and I had been all-stars in the front row of Tuesday classes at the gym. Turns out that class was bush league. Three weeks into my four-week trial, I'm a hot mess almost every class. High planks, vinyasa after vinyasa, balance poses for days -- you would never know if I'm crying because sweat is dripping from every part of my body. Some classes, the pace and the heat combine to make my heart pound and my head woozy. That's when child's pose is my favorite. Other days I think I'm killing it, but then I look around at all of the rail-thin Lululemon-wearing yoga chicks pushing up into crow pose like it's completely
normal to balance your legs on your arms and realize I have so far to go -- in my yoga practice and my wardrobe.

I think the classes would be difficult without the added heat and humidity, which makes me think that maybe sometimes yoga can be strength-building and — wait for it — even exercise. Yeah, I said it.

For now, though, I'm going to reserve any major judgements on these classes. I love the noodle-y feeling I have after yoga and my hips feel amazing when I run. But I'm waiting to see if regular practice leads to a stronger core and arms, or if I can ever master crow pose. If I apply what I know about running — it takes three weeks to benefit from a workout — to yoga, I might see some gains soon. I'll probably sign up for more time at this studio when my trial month is complete (M already pulled the trigger on a six-month membership, right after he got us the fancy yoga mat towels) and see how things go. Plus doing more yoga gives me a great reason to buy new workout tanks from Athleta … on sale, of course.

Ride Report: Clubbin'

Saturdays often are reserved for cycling with my sweetie but we hang out and exercise together A LOT so last weekend we decided to get our spin on separately. While he took off with some dudes to summit  the Eureka Canyon climb, I joined the Santa Cruz Triathlon Association for the club's weekly group ride.

Technically, I'm an employee of the club because I serve as Race Director for the Santa Cruz Triathlon, a nonprofit Olympic-distance race that's in its 33rd year this year (it's just my second as RD). But even though I work hard to put on the race, I haven't spent a lot of time with club members. The group ride seemed like a good way to connect with my people and a nice change of pace from chasing the boys all over South County.

We met at Natural Bridge State Beach at 8:30. Instead of driving into town, I decided to ride the 11-ish miles from home. Serendipitously, so did a handful of other Aptosians in the club and they picked me up on the way in. We zoomed into Natural Bridges nice and warmed up for our Highway 1 ride.

About 30 people showed up for the ride, which even had pop-up bike support courtesy of Wade from the Spokesman (also a sponsor of the race!). Many of the cyclists are in Nu2Tri, a training support program for newbies to the sport. They were going up to Davenport on Highway 1, essentially the bike course for the race, while more experienced riders set their sights on Swanton Loop.

Unwittingly, I got in with a fast group right at the start and we flew up the highway at something like 20 mph. We took turns leading and I managed to stay with the pack until almost Davenport. By then, the front group had spaced out quite a bit, with people stopping for bathroom breaks or snacks, and others cruising in twos and threes. I rode solo through Swanton, an idyllic coastal valley dotted with herb (like rosemary) fields, apple orchards, farmhouses and timberland. It's one of my favorite stretches of rural road in the county and I was happy to have it to myself.

Swanton ends with a one-mile, 500-foot climb that feels awesome: enough to make you sweat but doesn't zap all of your energy for the ride back to town. I spotted a pack of guys in front of me and geared down to chase after them. Two of the club's badass guys had already made the climb and were circling back down to pick up the rest of us. They rode with me for bit and helped me reel in the other guys. I won't lie — it felt amazing to finish the hill with the lead pack.

We stopped at the top of the hill to snack and chat while others caught up with us. The women I had ridden out with arrived, along with a few other club members I had yet to meet. Then I floated down the other side of Swanton, toward Highway 1, with the guys for a quick turn-around and another climb to the top. The hill is actually easier from the highway side, and I'm all for avoiding the highway when possible. Plus doing the "Swanton Double" just sounds cool.

I'd like to say the ride home was just as enjoyable but man, was I whipped. I'm not sure if we hit a notorious Highway 1 headwind or if I just overdid it on the outbound ride (probably the later). I rode back with a girl in the club I had yet to meet and we hit it off, chatting about our jobs and Santa Cruz as we swapped leads the whole way to Natural Bridges. She shared some cookies with me and we traded phone numbers before I pedaled back toward Mid-County.

I logged about 57 miles on the ride and 3,100 feet of elevation (there was a little GPS snafu when I forgot to restart after the cookie stop and I lost a mile). The boyfriend was impressed — and got a little competitive. He had a great, fast, hill-climbing ride that totaled out at 50 miles, a little shy of my mileage.

So my weekend rides in January were 38 - 55 - 40 - 57 miles, with varying elevation gains. It's a good base to get fit for a metric century (100K) ride in April or early May, and then a century (100 miles) in late May. With some more work on hill climbing, I may even attempt the torturous Santa Cruz Mountains Challenge in the summer and get redemption on Jamison Creek Road.

Ride Report: Our Personal Santa Cruz Mountains Challenge

Some background to start: Mike, the fiancé, and I love playing outside together. We appreciate each other's activities — he's a surfer, I'm a runner — but often there is one person who truly loves what we're doing and one person who is along for the adventure. One area where that isn't true is road cycling. We both really, really like getting on bikes, climbing hills and covering a lot of pavement.

We set off this morning on an adventure Mike had mapped out. Inspired by the Santa Cruz Mountains Challenge, he wanted to tackle some of the toughest climbs in the county during a 55(ish)-mile-ride. Our weekend rides often include 2,500 or more feet of elevation gain over 25-30 miles, but increasing that didn't seem like a bad idea, especially if was just the two of us and no timeline.

Elevation Map

The plan entailed parking off West Cliff Drive in Santa Cruz, then heading through town to our first climb, a breezy warm up on Glen Canyon Road to Scotts Valley. From there, we rode the lower section of Glenwood Drive (a normal climb for us) and then headed up the infamous Mt. Charlie Road, a 5.2-mile climb with multiple short Cat 2 segments. Mt. Charlie was new for both of us. The steep sections left us gasping for breath but overall the ride was scenic and pleasant. We stopped at a historical marker at the top to learn about Mountain Charlie, a failed gold digger who survived a bear attack in the 1870s and went on to be a stagecoach operator in the area, before continuing our climb up Summit Road.

The road seemed remarkable free of cars. We pedaled past vineyards and Christmas Tree farms on Hwy. 35/Summit Road until the highway split at Bear Creek Road. We went left up, then down Bear Creek Road about 11 miles into the town of Boulder Creek. This was essentially the halfway point of Mike's plan: about 30 miles in and one of two significant climbs done. After a quick stop to refuel at Johnnie's Super (including a LARABAR and Hammer Gel) we were back on the road.

The next section covered more new terrain for us: Hwy. 236 toward Big Basin Redwoods State Park. Four miles in, we made a sharp left onto Jamison Creek Road. Mike had said this would be the steepest — but also shortest — climb of the ride. The hill started with a mellow 5% grade and we held the same conversational pace we'd carried throughout the ride. But 1.2 miles in, the hill changed. Here's a description from Stanford Cycling Team:  For people wanting to climb over 1,100 feet in 1.8 miles (read: masochists), this is the ride for you. This section of the climb averages 11.5% grade, with some areas nearing 14% grade. 

I made it about two-thirds the way up the hill (the whole hill, not just the really steep part) before my legs turned to Jell-o and I had to walk. Mike powered on, using a mix of out-of-the-saddle riding, weaving back-and-forth across the entire road (much to the chagrin of descending cyclists) and sheer willpower to summit the hill. I walked about a mile, pushing my bike and wishing for a passing motorist to hitchhike with. I tried (and failed) to ride again, and even considered carrying my bike on the back of a motorcycle. The bike-hike took about 25 minutes, but it turned out Mike had only beaten me to the top by a few minutes. That must have been one hell of a crawl up! 

(Let's just say, the only good Jamison is probably the whisky, and there should be a bottle at the top of that climb for poor cyclists like me.)

From there, we turned onto Empire Grade Road bemoaned all of the little hills on our back to town. Just before we passed UC Santa Cruz, we hit 37 mph on a downhill. The ride finished along West Cliff Drive, rounding out at 56 miles and about 5,600 feet of elevation.

These climbs are integral parts of a couple cool century rides that happen in here in the spring and summer: the Mt. Charlie Challenge in April and the Santa Cruz Mountains Challenge in late July or early August. I've heard the Mountains Challenge always includes Jamison, which may be a deal-breaker for me, but the Mt. Charlie ride could be exciting. I haven't ever attempted a century ride (metric or full 100 miles), but would like to. Maybe 2015 is the year! 

Getting back UP

It's been months since I've blogged. Running, like blogging, also has languished. Why? Why not? Life has been busy-busy-busy.

Race director-ing proved harder than I expected,
but the race went well! 

I just finished my first year as the Race Director of the Santa Cruz Triathlon. One might think organizing a triathlon would correlate into triathlete workouts. I can tell you, it doesn't. I miss paddle boarding. Evenings normally reserved for yoga class or beach runs were consumed with meetings, paperwork and stress. Lots of stress, which makes it hard to sleep, which makes difficult to rise early and get a workout in before work (I have a day job too). So my fitness has suffered some.

Thankfully (I guess), it's mostly running fitness that's poor right now. Yoga is fun. Our Tuesday morning "Oregon Workouts" of circuits and body-weight exercises feel great. And cycling has never been better. Mike and I just got back from a quick jaunt to Ashland, Oregon, to plan our wedding (240 days to go!) and ride bikes. We knocked out 25 miles and made it halfway up Mount Ashland, which is about 2,100 feet of elevation in a single, steady climb. While we wanted to go all the way up (5,000-plus feet of climbing), the altitude ate up any anaerobic fitness I had, plus we had to get cleaned up for a friend's nuptials. I am sticking with my story that the elevation, not a lack of fitness, did me in because rode the undulating hills here at sea level in Santa Cruz with ease the following weekend.

Conquering Eureka Canyon Road
with Mike and friends in August. 

But the reality is I need to do more. I know that. I'm healthier but, more importantly, I'm happier when I'm exercising and feeling fit. So I've taken three steps to do better:

1. I registered for a 10K. I haven't wanted to race in years. Really, years now. But I needed something to force me to run, and the prospect of official race results available forever on the Internet is super motivating. Plus, my running buddy Meaghan was already signed up for this one, the Surfer's Path 10K. The race is too soon and I won't be in great shape, but it's a starting-off point to get me back where I should be: able to knock out a 10-mile trail run any day of the week. 
2. I'm heading back to the gym. This will please my brother, a personal trainer who swears by lifting for fitness and weight loss. He's right, too. Doing weights seems to give everything else a little extra "umf!" So I'm on board: at least once a week, plus those body-weight exercises in the Oregon Workout and yoga on Tuesdays. Someday I may even do a pull-up.
3. I bought an UP. I never thought I'd be a fitness tracker person, but I love my Garmin and got intrigued about what else was out there. The UP wrist band tracks steps and sleep, and if you want, moods, calories eaten and exercise. So far, I'm just using it for the basics and to remind myself to get up and move around at the office every 45 minutes. I'm interested to see how much I walk and run each day, and really like the the reminders to get off my ass. Too often, I get sucked into whatever I'm doing on a screen and lose track of the time. UP should help with that. 

I feel like I'm starting from zero, which is a huge bummer. It's easy to regret not maintaining fitness when I had it because, man, I had a few good years where I busted out two or three marathons annually. But I also know the commitment it takes to get it back and keep it — and I know I'm capable. 

Backcountry Ski Trippin'

I'm new to snow sports.

Until the past couple of winters, my experience in the snow amounted to some sledding as a child and chaining up my '98 Mustang in college to get access to a snow-covered peak for a hike.

But the boyfriend is a snowboarder and, over the course of the past couple winters, I've learned how to get down a mild blue-square run and acquired all kinds of snow gear: the appropriate layers, snowshoes, waterproof boots and a complete snowboarding setup. 

Last weekend we put it all to the test by hiking in to the Benson Hut, a Sierra Club shelter three miles south of Sugarbowl and about six miles from Donner Pass. Our friends had, smartly, left a day earlier and made the five-mile hike from the ski resort parking lot in during idyllic conditions. 

The boyfriend, a buddy and I weren't so lucky. 

The only precipitation the Sierra has seen since the first week of December rolled in Saturday morning as we got geared up for the adventure. We cut off two miles of hiking by riding chairlifts up to the top of Sugarbowl, a cheat method that almost immediately knocked me out of the game because I didn't know how to snowboard with a 25-pound pack on. 

Kindly, the boyfriend carried both our packs (what a stud!) and we made it to the top of Sugarbowl, AKA Mt. Lincoln, elevation 8,400 feet. 

It looked like this: 

 

Yikes. Visibility was basically nothing. Winds whipped us, threatening to blow away stray gloves as we got our  gear organized and used a bike lock to chain our snowboards together between some boulders (for protection against blowing away, not theft). 

Then we hiked.

Three miles, even backpacking at altitude, should be nothing. We were able to hug the ridgeline enough to avoid getting lost (normally, it's a simple ridge hike and the path is visible throughout). But no one was having fun. Our buddy, hiking in Sorels with Yaktrax post-holed through the soft new snow. Once the boyfriend and I strapped on our snowshoes, we kept them on -- even when that meant crossing the rocks of wind-blown, snow-free saddles in the snowshoes. 

We hiked for two hours to reach the hut, quite off of the 30-minutes-a-mile pace we had accepted as the slowest we would possibly go. The boyfriend and most of the crew already the hut had made this same trek five years prior (one of them loves doing this trip as a birthday celebration) which also helped us find the way.

The hut was a welcome sight, nestled just below the peak of Mt. Anderson (8,500 feet). 

We spent the afternoon and evening sipping whiskey, making fajitas and enjoying the company of friends while it stormed outside. A few brave skiers in the group took their skis and skins out to test the fresh snow. I can't imagine being good enough at snowboarding to get a split board and skins and ski in the backcountry, but props to those who do. Resort skiing feels adventurous enough for me.

In the morning, we awoke to more snow and panoramic views. 

The return hike, with the sun shining and epic views surrounding us, felt like a walk in the park compared to our adventure the day prior. To avoid the snowboarding-with-a-pack debacle, get a little more cardio and ensure the guys got to a sports bar in time for the Niners game, I handed off my snowboard to a friend who had hiked in without one and chose to snowshoe down the ski runs with the boyfriend's sister. This added a little over two miles to our hike and was possibly the most pleasurable part of the weekend. Happy skiers paused to ask us about our adventure before zipping down the mountain. We trotted on.

The Benson Hut is open to the public for day use and as an emergency shelter. You also can book the hut for overnight stays and volunteer to maintain it (one of our friends does this, which is how we got hooked up with the hut). It's part of a network of huts on the Sierra Ski Trail in the Lake Tahoe area. Each are about a day's ski apart. 

After visiting, I'd love to go back in the summer.