Hey you wanna go for a ride?

I'm working on getting the written details from the Colorado Trail hike up here.  I'm just not getting it done as quickly as I could.  I've only got days 34 and 35 left to jot down and then I need to go back and edit it a little and then find some pictures to insert between the lines of words and then I'll have it up.  Promise.  It's been nice reliving the trip at night, writing it all down.  When I was out there hoofing it I made a point to write down the day's major events each evening.  Nothing incredible-earth-shattering ever happened, but it was such a pleasant, invigorating trip.  I'm ready to go back and do it again, except I won't--at least not all at once--because been there done that.   And also winter is approaching.  And surely my employer wouldn't take it lightly, asking for that kind of time off again..  At least not all at once.  Lola wants us to hike the whole trail in segments with the dog...maybe 50-70 miles each summer until she too has completed the CT.  I can definitely get behind that. 

I enjoyed it so much that I am considering a thru hike of the Pacific Crest Trail in 2017.  All twenty six hundred something miles of it.  It would be a lot of work before and during and a lot of time away from Lola. Maybe too much.  It wouldn't be fair to ask her to take care of the household for 5 to 5 1//2 months while I'm out doing something that ridiculous.  Maybe the PCT is a do-it-over-a-few-years kind of thing. 

I don't know.

In the meantime, I have figured out something else ridiculous to do.  Now, it turns out, I enjoy riding motorcycles.  Here's the abbreviated version of how that went down.  

Soon after I returned from the trail, high on ridiculous adventuring, I thought it would be neat to try something completely different.  More power-based rather than me-based.  I researched motorcycles for a few weeks and eventually drove down to Colorado Springs and bought a sweet, sweet vintage 1972 Honda CB350.  Soon after that I took the Motorcycle Safety Foundation course, got the M endorsement on my drivers license, registered with bike with the state and bought some insurance. Here she is: 

Goldie

At just under 350 ccs, I thought she would be the perfect bike to learn on:  not too big, not too fast, not too scary.  The perfect beginner's upgrade from Vespy, Lola's scooter--a 2001 Vespa ET2 that I gave her the Christmas after I got my first executive chef gig at Sacre Bleu.  Here's Vespy:

Vespy, faithful scooter. 14 years and still going strong.

Three weeks  after riding Goldie I knew I wanted to upgrade not only in power (since she should never probably go on a highway and I will eventually want to transport myself on one) but in newness, too.  Even though my mechanic gave Goldie a tune up and the thumbs up, I realized too late that a 43 year old bike is going to require a fair amount of educated tinkering to keep her in good running order.  I'm stupid like that sometimes.  And because I'm not particularly mechanically minded that means financially supporting my mechanic a lot more than I'd care to.  (A quick plug here for Jon Leventhal at Moto+Scooter Lab here in Denver.  The guy is a magician with anything on two wheels.)

So I upgraded to a 2007 Yamaha FZ6, an eight year old two-owner mostly-naked 600 cc street bike I got for a good deal with only 3,500 miles.  Meet Frank Booth:

Smooth as velvet.  Blue velvet.

Frank will give me the muscle and experience I need before finally upgrading to the bike I ultimately covet, a brand new showroom floor Suzuki V-Strom 650 adventure bike that will allow me to stitch together Colorado roads--paved and forest--into interesting routes that will take me through the mountains for camping and fishing in new, more ridiculous ways.  I almost got one, too, before I bought Frank Booth.  Put a deposit down on it and everything but at the last minute decided not pull the trigger.  I figured it was dumb to learn how to ride a bike on a new bike.  Because I'm going to lay it down at some point.  That's a given.  Not necessarily in a violent, life-changing Christopher Reeve kind of way, but more likely in a whoops-forgot-to-completely-engage-the-kickstand kind of way.

Sailors and motorcycle riders have a saying that is plagiaristically similar.  Sailors say that there are two kinds of sailors in the world:  those who have run aground and those who will.  Motorcycle riders say there are two kinds of riders in the world:  those who have laid their bike down and those who will.  If there's a saying about it it must be true, so I opted to buy a used bike, hoping to weep a little less when I invariably lay it down. 

So, statistically speaking I will lay Frank Booth down, and then, (assuming I'm not lusting after something else) buy this:  

Tippy adventure all over the place.

You can tell it's adventury because it's got non-aerodynamic side cases and crash bars.  Even new it looks dusty and happy and worn in. 

Anyway, that and working is what I've been up to.  Next week Lola and I are flying to Ft. Myers.  We've chartered a 34' Catalina from Southwest Florida Yachts based out of Ft. Myers and will jibe and hardalee all over Pine Island Sound and a little bit out in the Gulf of Mexico once we've navigated out of the Caloosahatchee River.  We'll have a cheeseburger in paradise on Cabbage Key--like we always try to down there--and enjoy the shallow and sometimes rambunctious anchorage at Pelican Bay right next to Cayo Costa, and the beaches and the warm weather and the chart work before winter sets in and ruins everything.  But mostly I want to heel that boat over good.  Boat heeling is like a spike in the vein once you've got the taste for it, and I've only had one hit this season.

H

Jibe ho!