DIY Art

[carpathian]

Surf Alaska

May 2, 2013:

The surface of the sea started to hump up into glassy swells. We had just rounded the rocky point of Caines Head, about 6 miles due south of Seward, Alaska. The 42' Delta known as the Viking plowed into the oncoming 10' seas easily. She had seen much worse as Captain Liska had been plying these waters for years in pursuit of salmon, halibut, bears and waves.

Liska slowly rounded the corner and started running across the deep troughs heading west towards the surf break at Bear Glacier. There were 15 of us on the boat and we were getting amped! We could see the waves crashing through the pillars of rock and ricocheting into the hanging sea caves of the rugged coast. Vertical faces of rock leapt skyward peppered with hearty hemlocks and the occasional mountain goat.

The blue ice of Bear Glacier loomed in the hazy distance. The haze was created by the heavy surf that exploded on the spit of gravel that stretched across the head of the bay. It was a terminal moraine of Bear Glacier and on the inside was a fresh water lake on which tall icebergs rolled lazily.

"The Icebergs?!" I thought in my head. "How the hell did i get here?"
The last time I was here was about July 2001. I was with Liska at the time on the same seaworthy Delta. Back then I was but a lad of 21 and I figured that I could teach my self to surf that very day. I had never surfed but I could downhill ski and snowboard pretty good. It seemed applicable.

I basically got my ass handed to me as I quickly got stuck on the beach. By beach I mean bowling ball sized rocks slamming around in VW sized rocks as white water rakes through. Two hours later I flopped onto the deck of the Viking after struggling and struggling to get back out through the white water.

12 years later I decided to move with my wife and 3 year old daughter to Maui for 6 months. I was tired of the cold and ice that I had known my whole life. I needed to thaw out my cold bones. It was pretty sweet because my wife and I could take turns on the beach with our daughter while the other one caught waves.

About 1500 waves and 6 months later we returned to Alaska as what? 6 Month surfers. Two days later I am on the Viking again fresh from the tropics. I recount tales of being wave punched and chundered by rogue gnarlers. "It was at least head high! It was so shallow! The natives gave me stink eye!" All badges of honor in the world of wave catching.
Liska hollered, stunning me out of my reverie, "When I saw go, GO!" A minute later he had pulled in tight to the shoulder of the break so that us keeners could get right in the action without too far of a paddle from the soon to be anchored boat. Myself along with 3-4 other guys all jumped in and zipped over to where the break appeared to be.
The water is shockingly cold. Not 30 seconds later a large set came through and someone caught the 1st wave and disappeared. Someone else took the 2nd bigger wave and disappeared. "Holy Shit! These swells are huge!" I yelled out to no one in particular as the 3rd wave came rolling in FAT! A vertical wall of water stood up and looked to have caught Liska off guard as I could see the 42' boat climb the face and roll off the backside at quite an angle.

The people still on the boat cheered as I did not even think to catch this wave. I sprinted to the outside and by sprint I mean that I moved my arms as fast as they could in the 6mm wetsuit I was wearing. I was now sweaty and breathless and feeling the burn after less then a minute in the water! I thought I was in good shape…?

The last of the 15 people on the boat were now in the water and a few were already caught inside on the rough beach. All of the sudden the lineup felt crowded. It was funny because I had grown tired of the busy surf spots in Maui and now in this frigid water there are all of these people?! I guess surfing is pretty fun and these waves were seemed to be pretty sweet, though I had yet to catch one.

For at least an hour I could not get on a wave. I would paddle, paddle, paddle as fast as I could but the waves kept rolling out from under me. Several times I got to the top of the lip and looked down into the pit a loooong way down and I wondered if I even wanted to catch one of these things.

They looked to be pretty big. Like way bigger then anything I had caught on Maui all winter. The few times I even saw waves like this was from the parking lot as I prudently would deem them beyond my skill level. North Shore Hawaii; South Shore Alaska. "Uh oh," I thought.

I had to get a wave but now I was so tired. I wanted to try this new SUP I had just finished in the garage the night before but I would not live it down if I did not catch a wave on prone surf first.
I had to get deeper in the wave in order to catch one. The 1st wave I caught actually felt like I was too late as the wall of water was passing vertical 8-10 feet over my head. I thought I was going to get crushed!

[carpathian]

It turns out i was actually in the sweet spot and I managed to pop to my feet for just a second. I started to arc a big toe side bottom turn but the heel edge caught and I was launched butt first into the pit in front of the wave. In mid somersault I was looking backward at the house sized curl as it punched me to the depths.

It felt like I was rolled under water about ten times. I was completely disoriented and running out of air. I opened my eyes and only saw opaque green in all directions. "All right cool," I thought, "longest personal hold down record, no big deal…"

A second later the moderate float of the wetsuit took me to the surface. "Holy Shit!" I gasped in sweet oxygen. I got back on my borrowed 8' board and turned and looked and was shocked to see the size of the next wave coming at me! I was shocked that I was in the water in front of it let alone trying to surf its kin.

I dove to the rocky bottom but could feel my legs getting pulled and then I was sucked up and over into the maelstrom. I came up again, another wave. I paddled with all of my might and was barely, barely able to crest over the top. On the horizon was a break in the set, "Thank god," I thought.

"Do you guys see how big this is??!" I asked in general. Hoots and hollers of agreement. Some surfers were better then others. Some were stoked while others were terrified. I fit in somewhere in the middle. I realized that I had survived the initial carnage and it put a smile on my face.

Over the next two hours I managed to catch 5-6 more waves, each over my head and each bigger then anything I had ever done. We were stoked! The board I was borrowing would hiss down the line as i got around a few sections and got pummelled by a few.

One of my practiced techniques on smaller waves that are about to closeout is the flying leap off the back, sans board. I tried that only once on a wave that I could not see over and it did not work. I don't know if I thought I would slice cleanly out of the back of the wave like a dolphin or something. I pretty much got stuck head deep in the now falling lip as it cart wheeled me off the front into the pit.
"Note to self: don't do that again."

People were getting tired. I could not catch a wave unless I was deep enough so that gravity did most of the work. I guess that is what you are supposed to do. Wave! Wipe out! I am battling my way out from the inside. Winded, gassed. I need a break.

At the boat the survivors and spectators soaked in the sun. It was awesome; vertical snow covered peaks, good friends, good waves. Welcome to Alaska! Who needs Hawaii?

I hemmed and hawed about getting back in the water. I wanted to test this board I had just made. I did most of the build up before Maui and when I got back I scrambled to to finish for this trip. It was 9' x 29" copied off a popular Jimmy Lewis Kwad model.

But Liska said, "NO paddle boards! So and so hit me last week and blah, blah, blah…"
Whatever, I had to test this thing. The crowd in the water was shrinking quickly. Liska was still in the water, I think he is part sea lion.

I felt like a spectacle in my firmly suctioned wetsuit and funny looking board. Cat calls from the boat. "Who brought the SUPPER?" It was all fun and games until someone gets hurt, eh?

I made my way to the lineup. "You better watch out!" I mocked warned everyone. It felt good to get a paddle in my hands. More horsepower, new muscles for the day. Beautiful walls of water waiting to be shredded. The board felt good, buoyant, maneuverable. Here comes a wave, I caught it! The board bombed down the line and I actually made the next section. "Needs more sanding," I thought. I could feel the drag, but I was in a hurry last night just to get the thing water tight.

I made another wave and another. I was stoked! I had previously made about 40 pairs of custom alpine skis and 3 snowboards. I knew the satisfaction of riding your own handiwork. But this felt like the next level, to me at least. I know guys have been shaping boards for a long time and now I see why.

I needed to get out of the water while I was still ahead of the game. Then I saw it, a wall of water that rivaled the size of the 3rd wave of the 1st set four hours earlier. I was in a prime spot. The boat heaved on the anchor line and the crowd cheered. "Holy shit, I have to get this!"

I turned and paddled with all of my might. "Come on baby, come on!" I actually spoke out loud. I could see my buddy Matt and Liska bobbing down in the soon to be monstrous pit. I could hear Matt yelling, "GO! GO! GO!" The wall caught me and I instantly was at the top of the lip looking way down to the bottom. I was actually on this thing and my little board seemed to enjoy the speed as much as I did. I arced a long low bottom turn and purposely buzzed right under Liska. He was smiling as he knew I was not going to hit him and I think I was clearly stoked! Another happy customer on the Viking.

I made to the right on my toe side and contemplated making a run down the line when the face caught up with me and I pulled to mid face for a second or two. Just enough time to look around and take it all in. Then I saw the impending massive closeout that was forming so I drifted up the face and popped over the back and cleanly transitioned back to SUP skier stance.

That was enough so I got out of the water.

[carpathian]

Swim with Dolphins

We had a plan to meet out friends at 8am as we pulled in to the parking lot 20 minutes late. I parked and saw Shannon playing with her twin three year old boys in the tide pools.
I asked, “Where is Shawn?” We were planning on snorkeling out to try and 'swim with the dolphins' in La Perouse Bay at the south end of Maui.

Shannon said, “Shawn already swam out.”

Shawn had been talking about how cool the dolphins were for the whole previous week and he was excited to get out there.

“All right, I'll go catch him!” I said as I was already pulling my goggles and fins out of the car and moving towards the water. I could look south and see the heads of about 20 people who were way out in the middle of the bay. Way out.

I nimbly made my way to the water. The shoreline and parking lot was in the middle of a fairly new recent lava flow and the rocks along the waters edge were sharp and unforgiving. I was excited to get in the water. I had been snorkelling and swimming a lot in the months leading up to this momentous day; Swimming with Dolphins day!

Anyway, I figured I could catch Shawn because he would always 'snorkel' with regular Speedo race goggles and no snorkel or fins. Some would call it swimming.

I started snorkeling out. The water was pushing 20 feet deep right away and the water was cloudy. I could see the bottom and was doing the usual fish spotting and shark-hopefully-not-spotting. There were some fat looking fish here and there and the water was getting deeper but I still felt comfortable knowing that I was going to catch Shawn and join all of the other people out there.

I kept swimming. I poked my head above the water to actually look for Shawn. All I could see where swells moving in bigger and bigger. Then I could see heads bobbing in the distance and then they were gone hidden behind a swell.

The water was getting deep now, pushing 60-70 feet and you could barely see the bottom. Slowly it was taking on the more 'deep blue look'. This was one thing I had never done, snorkel or swim in really deep water. The though had never occurred to me that it would be deep out here with the dolphins and... scary.

“What the heck is down there?!” my scared inner child would holler in my ear. I did not like it. I looked on the surface again and could see no one. Then I could see the little heads bobbing from over the back of a choppy swell. I could not see the bottom and could see no one around me as the swells heaved up and down. I looked back to shore and it looked a long ways off.

“Holy shit! Where is Shawn?” Then I could see him way down the coast from where we had put in. I had been power swimming straight out to sea for about 15 minutes now. The shoreline had been paralleling my route for a bit but now it pulled away to the south. I gave Shawn a wave. He waved back and was yelling something but I could not hear.

He kept walking and I kept swimming seaward feeling alone and determined to join the group out there anyway. I did not like swimming and just staring into the abyss so I would change and go on my back with my eyes up to the sun trying to ignore the growing void behind me.

I kept at it for a while then turned to look for the group again. No one around and then as the swell passed underneath I saw all the people quite near kind of power swimming this way and that in a weird frenzy. As they all turned and came towards me I stuck my head under the water and was startled to see that I was surrounded by 30-40 spinner dolphins!

My heart lodged in my throat for a second and they all blasted past me. I could hear their little clicks of communication as they turned and dove way down and I could see their silver and black markings silhouetted above the watery depths. And then in an instant they were gone in another direction as the gaggle of snorkelers followed in pursuit.

I was left by my self treading water trying to catch my breath from the long swim out. After about 5 seconds I was over it and aimed for shore. It was a long swim back. I attempted to maintain my head above water but would periodically check to see if I could see bottom. It didn't really matter, all I could do was keep swimming.

I veered to the right, much like Shawn must have, where the shoreline cut back in closer. The bottom jutted up into view as I nimbly maneuvered in through the coral heads. It became too shallow to swim but the bottom remained to jagged to walk on as the sloppy seas pushed me off balance. It took some time but I eventually crawled up on the dry ground and walked the half mile back to the car.

I found Shawn and asked him why he got out. He told me that he was in the same spot where he had seen me from shore. He was getting tired and looking down into the blue when a long torpedo shape paced from behind about 20 feet down. At first he thought it was a dolphin until it turned and he saw it was a shark!

He basically aborted mission right then and boogied back to shore. I suspect that if I had actually seen a real shark I would have done the same thing.

[carpathian]

To the Hotel

We dropped in at 7pm. Around 8 I started to get distracted by the oil painting hanging on the wall of the dingy ski condo. It was probably hung on the wall sometime in the mid 80's. I kept looking at it and finally had to pull it off the wall for closer inspection. Sure enough, there was a rectangle shaped patch of whiter wall behind the frame.

I sat in a lazy boy chair with the frame in my lap while Hans and Ethan flanked my sides on the arms of the chair. The painting depicted three skiers ripping down a broad wind blown alpine ridge line. The wind was picking up the snow and blowing skiffs around the skiers boots as they were locked in perpetual turns. It was like holding a flat screen TV in my lap, you could actually see the wind move and the skiers smiling back at us. I noticed that it was interesting that the painting was obviously dated by its general context, but somehow the skiers were making huge big mountain turns as if they were on fat skis. Where was the old school butt wiggle?

We were stuck in the condo because the mountain was shut down for the night. It had snowed all day but around 4pm the system turned warm and Alyeska was now being pummeled by what could best be described as 'monsoon like rains.' We now turned to watch the frenzied antics of the poor lifties who had the job of dismantling the lift line bamboos and rope. The base of Chair 3 was not more then 50meters from the the deck of Ethan's second floor condo. He thought they could use a hand so he grabbed a half empty flat of Redbull and jumped off the deck like some sort of super hero. He forgot to put shoes on but managed to stagger through the knee deep slush and gale force winds over to the lifties. The cardboard casing was falling apart by the time he tried to offer them a pick me up.

For some reason they declined and Ethan staggered back to the building and scaled the deck, heaving the sodden flat over the rail in front of him.

We needed a mission and quickly decided to go to the hotel. There are not many things to do in Girdwood if the mountain is not open. The hotel looms in the back of the valley like a 5 star Castle Greyskull. We prepared to venture into the elements. The hotel is about mile away so it was not too far to walk. There is a nice bike path that goes along the road in the forest but we decided to troop through the bog that the bike trail goes around. It would be shorter as the crow flies but more difficult.

It was calf deep slush and pissing rain in the dark for what seemed like an eternity. Staggering now. Must get back to solid ground. The lights of the path guided us like wayward moths in the maelstrom. Once back on the path the rain poured through the light with an atypical intensity. We finally strolled up under the large carport in front of the hotel. The red carpet was dry and toasty because the heated sidewalk was working overtime. There is beautiful rock work and timber framing all around.

As we walk into the foyer we could expect to be greeted by a bellman or at least catch glimpse of a front desk person scurrying behind a curtain. There was only silence. No muzak played as we paused to take in the surroundings. The huge vaulted ceiling soared overhead and merged into a fake northern lights display all complete with a large stuffed polar bear, hanging out on a iceberg. Silence. We were dripping wet and peering from under drooping gore tex hoods and shuffling wet feet. We aimed for the elevator. On the elevator there was muzak and we all stood and contemplated our reflection in the mirror on the roof of the elevator cab.

For what seemed like an eternity the cables pulled us up one floor and the doors opened. We turned to step out but were shocked and horrified to see an entire wedding reception deep in concentration as the lone photographer was busy lining up bodies and smiles. The bride was literally glowing under the lights and her smile was a mile wide. She managed to keep smiling as we ducked back into the elevator to decide what to do. I held the door and peeked out. Everyone was paused and waiting for us to go though but we hesitated. Hans and Ethan made a dash and I still paused, lingering in my sanctuary. The brides smile betrayed her irritance as the photog waved me through. I hurried through with a mumbled apology and around the corner was silence again. It was as if the wedding party was never even there. We made our way down the long corridor that leads to the tram base. There are shops all closed up behind little fold up glass walls selling shitty skis and glove warmers.

We were relieved to slide back out side through the automatic doors into the covered sidewalk that leads to the tram base itself. We were out of the elements but the elements were still pouring down and steaming around out feet. We stood at the closed tram base doors as if we were super early morning keeners, ready to get after some powder. We stood there like hoards of people might show up at any minute and we would be validated for standing in line for so long. Getting on first tram is one thing, being first in line for first tram is reserved for those in a league of their own. We stood there and wondered how the snow was holding up. It has to be snowing up there somewhere. We stood there and then began to mill about in circles, losing interest. What is the hold up?

Finally as if snapping out of a trance knew that we must move on. We ventured back out into the rain and stood on a little foot bridge that goes over a creek that flows off the mountain and into the manmade pond nearby. The creek was a raging torrent as every once of precipitation was too warm to stick. The entire mountain was flowing beneath our feet and we realized that the mountain had forsaken us. She does not love us and does not care that our emotions are so wrapped up in her frame of mind.

We stood there on the bridge for what seemed like an eternity and contemplated our fate thus far. Maybe it will cool off tomorrow? This is probably good for the snowpack some how, somewhere.

We trooped back to the condo where the skiers were still ripping their perpetual turns on the wall over the couch. This time they did not seem to be so happy. Maybe they wanted to ski somewhere else for a change?

[carpathian]

Thanks Diamond Jong! That shit looks technical, kind of like surfing on the the Big Island.

Big Island Beat Down Part 1


After 20 months of hard labor I have managed to move the family back to the Islands for the winter. This time we will be on the Big Island for almost 6 months. Vesna is 7 months pregnant and we decided to make a somewhat drastic move to come and have the baby here. I could do some surfing and hopefully learn some more fiber glass skills, Rosie is loving kindergarten and Vesna can live in a bikini.

I did manage to get some days in at Bear Glacier the previous summer and it was awesome. There was a standout day with Clint and Nik when we took my boat out for a nice 4' swell. It had a long period of 15 seconds and the waves just kept coming. I surfed for three hours and then did some standup paddling for another three hours. We were so tired but the waves just kept getting better as the tide came in. You have to get it while you can out there because you never know when you will be back.

I think I surfed 7 times during the summer of 2013 and then only 3 times during summer of 2014.

Day 1:

I arrived with a conservative optimism. I knew I could get by on a standup board but I really felt the need to get in some time doing more long boarding and maybe even get on a short board. I had to run around town collecting fins and boards from cargo and wax and information.

Colin was down at his favorite break at the bottom of the road called Pine Tree. I sorted out names in my head; The Bay, A Bay, K Bay, Kahalu'u, Kukio, Harbor Right and Left, Elevator, Rat Bowl etc. I should have figured my first attempt being on a wave called Rat Bowl might be trouble.

Everyone is one short boards. I have not seen any stand up paddlers. I have rebuilt and restylized the 9' board on which I shredded the giant out at Bear Glacier. Removed the ghetto quad setup and put in standard tri thruster boxes. I had not bought fins for the side boxes yet so I compensated by using a wicked old school wind surf board fin that stuck down about a foot.

I opted for the long board for the apparent short board wave. Colin had already been out there for an hour. I navigated barefoot through the lava rock until I could mount the board. I made it out through the white water with relative ease. I gave Colin a wave and then I purposefully stayed back in the line up.

There was an inside wave that I was trying to get on but the big sets from the out side kept barreling through. The 4-5 feet of water would noticeably rush backward off the reef as the swell hit and the wave would stand up from no where out of the sea. The sweet spot was tiny and I could not hit it.

I turtle dived. I nearly got up on a knee once. I pearled like a mofo once but never hit the bottom, which was nice. Colin called me over like a bro trying to help a kook. “Get in here,” he said as I dodged another shredder coming in hot. I was sideways in another wave. Struggling, getting tired. Wearing t-shirt to protect my oh so white skin from the sun. I realized that this was futile after about 20 minutes. I staggered to shore tired but not too exhausted. “I would have to play it cool around here,” I thought.

Day 2:

I decided to get out on my paddle board right at 7am. There 3-4 guys down the way a bit but no one was one the Rat Bowl. I got out though the rocks and made it through the white water easy enough. On a paddle board you can get on your knees for more stability when the going gets rough. For the first time a realized a flaw in my board design. I did not use a foam grip pad on the top deck of the board like on a normal SUP. I used wax like a surf board and that is fine when you are wearing a wet suit that protects your knees. I felt rickety, off balance and white under the early morning sun. Some surfer girl jumped in off the rocks from the north.

She eyed me warily as I tilted and keeled about wildly trying to catch a wave if not my composure. I made a half ass wave and turned heel side as the single fin set up washed out. Crash, in the water swimming with paddle. Wave on head. Wave on head. Struggle back to the outside. I don't feel balanced enough to stand. The last time I had used this board style effectively was after I had been in the water every day for the previous 5 months.

I flailed onto another wave. The short boards were moving in on the peak. I decided to make an early exit to save what remaining dignity I met have. As I paddled onto shore it got real shallow. Where was that micro channel though the rocks? I was too far down the beach but only like 20 feet from shore. Small waves surged around me as I have crawled the last ten feet. My foot got stuck deep in an urchin pocket of rock and it hurt but it held me as I made last step to land. “God dang!” I said out loud.


Day 3:

I went to another spot near the fish traps at the Harbor. The fish traps are rock walls built a long time ago to catch fish with the falling tide. Today they make a nice swim spot and access point to the waves. On this day the waves were too small to catch but it felt good to get on the board with no one else around. There was a nice looking wave way out in the distance that I would keep my eye on in the future.

Day 4:

I felt pretty good getting in the water at a place called Kuhalu'u. There is a little white and blue church perched along the edge of the rocks of the bay. I could see beginner looking waves rolling on the inside. I had to catch a wave. Just one would be nice. I put in the water amidst a gaggle of snorkeling tourists and started out. The waves were not that big but they were pushing in consistently.

I paddled out on the long board. I paddled and paddled and felt like I was not getting through the whitewater. I was not that big but it just kept coming. I kept my eye on the church which was now behind me. I also landmarked off of a rock that was sticking up on the outside. I paddled and paddled and was getting no where. I would stop and watch and I could see the current moving me north, out of the bay.

[carpathian]

Basically the waves would come in from the west and the flow would gyre out the north. I did not know this before getting in the water. I tried to catch a couple of white water waves to no avail. I was growing tired and as I watched the current kept pulling me north. In the back of my head I knew that if I went with the flow I would horseshoe around and out into the line up. There was one old man who I kept catching glimpses of as he caught wave after wave.

I was getting more tired as that faint panic feeling was rising in my gut. I was now past the church. I looked at the waves crashing in the rocks and along the stone walls that border the residential houses from the sea.

“Dang getting out of here would suck,” I observed to my self. I started quartering this way and that trying get across the current. I paddled and battled my way. Every time I stopped I would look at the bottom of the clear water and see coral moving by. I would go 90 degree across the current and then rest and watch again. I was getting tired but felt somewhat in control. I could see the life guards on duty probably watching me as I had been paddling against the current first one way then the other.

Damn I was getting tired but I knew I would make it at this point. I staggered back up through the snorkeling tourists and put my board down after a half hour in the water. I went up to the life guards and asked about the currents. He pointed to a public display showing the currents and waves patterns. I was too tired to go back out as I watched the local after work crowd show up. They all parked down the street a ways and jumped in off the rocks I had been stuck nearby. They floated right out to the line up in less then a minute.

When they got out they rode the gyre right back to a hidden little cove in the rocks and climbed out while I had been running in a big hamster wheel.

Day 5:

Pistol Pete and is cousin Cody were coming that night from Alaska, ready to get after it.

I was glad that I had finally I caught a few head high waves at a spot called Kukio. I needed to know my way around a bit before playing tour guide, you know. It is a nice left that breaks across a reefy plateau that lies adjacent to the exposed lava point. The water was so clear that you felt like you were floating on air over the coral and small fish.

Out toward the point the reef drops off vertically to 60 feet or so. I found it to be somewhat distracting as the water ebbed and flowed off the reef with each wave. I would stand along the shoulder which broke along the drop off of the reef edge. I could see huge roundish looking fish or sea turtles down under the edge that formed a cave. I started to purposefully get deeper in the break just to avoid the deep water.

Off the end of the reef the waves would step up out of 100 feet plus of water and slab up and then collapse on itself immediately in the true pit. A secondary shoulder would form as the water turned to race off the reef to grow the face of the wave. Tracking, tracking. Deep heel side bottom turn.

Rinse. Repeat.


Day 6:

The next day the Cody and I went out to the Harbor break. There was a lone wave that was breaking way out far like half mile...? We easily navigated out of the fish pond and started paddling. The wave was way out there and fairly biggerish with 5-7 foot faces. It was tricky keeping track of where you lined up. The shore was a smudge of brown under a mountainside of yellows and greys. The Costco and Home Depot complex dominated the view.

The water and wind pushed south lightly. The sun was out and we caught big friendly waves. The biggest sets were perfect for shredding. There was a long period so you would crash and pop up all ready for a pounding and the next wave would be standing up lazily in the distance. Pete was on it, smile on his face. Glad he was not in Alaska.

Cody's turn, my turn. Making long turns across the green face was pleasantly exhilarating. After a 3 hour shred with no one else in the water we reconvened back to the Kukio beach. Stop at security to get a beach pass. Drive past billionaire weekend cottages to private parking. Pretty swank.

The wave was working perfectly. The light was a little grey and the wind came up so you could not see the distracting bottom so much. We surfed another 2 hours until we called it a day and went home. The surf forecast said something about the swell of the decade that was due to arrive the following afternoon.

[carpathian]

Big Island Beat Down Part 2

Day 7:

We went back to Kukio in the morning. The sea definitely felt more alive as you could feel the first heavy pulses. One big wave came through and it ran across the whole mouth of the bay, connecting the left we were surfing with the right that was breaking off the point north of us.

Luckily we were all towards the outside when it came though. “Holy smokes!” I thought, “I see where this is going.” The friendly wave we had been surfing turned into a vertical faced slab of doom. As the tide dropped the normal sweet spot on the reef plateau was now getting sucked dry into the oncoming waves. In order to catch it you had to nose in at like 45 degree to the break as the slab eased off into a rideable shoulder. The face still collapsed in on itself but the rideable part was deeper, a little more hollow.

On one wave I caught the perfect crest deep in the pocket. I could see Pete down in the pit in survival mode. I dared not make a turn down the line because I could not guarantee to myself that I would make it past him. I had to straight line it out deep onto the slab floor. There were huge speed bumps then slam! MY ten foot board pearled to full depth as I basically moon walked off the back right into the full height of the curl. I piled deep and could feel some sort of double cycle.

I started swimming up and up and up. I opened my eyes and could only see bubbly blue. I was now power swimming to the surface. I think both me and my board had been wave punched like 20 feet down! Anyway, I made it up and ended up catching a few more waves before calling it for the day.

We went back to the Harbor. The swell was getting bigger. Now instead of the lone break in the distance, the whole mile long bay was crushing over head closeouts half way out and double that on the far outside. Pete was feeling adventurous while Cody and I were not into it. I love it when I can volunteer to take pictures!

I was nervous that Pete was going to get cocky and try to make a push outside. In the distance you could see the break unleashing thunderous barrels. A local had told me that this break stops getting taller at a certain point but gets thicker as the swell grows.

Pete did make one attempt to ride the channel out but was quickly halted by booming water. He caught a few inside waves and rode up on the rocks at one point. He moved to negotiate to the entrance of the fish trap. The water was flowing out like a river as Pete power paddled on his knees. He made it and we cheered.

Day 8:

The swell grew to insane proportions. There were calling for 30-40 foot faces with 20 second period! All of the west coast beaches were shut down so we took a few days off and toured around the Island to Hilo.

There was a nice flat water cruise in the Hilo Harbor and behind Coconut Island and up the river into town. It was a beautiful and idyllic scene watching a junior high school championship canoe race. The fans run up and down the beach screaming encouragement and some people just swim out into the water and cheer as the 6 man canoes go slicing by.

[carpathian]

Big Island Beat Down Part 3

Day 9 of surfing, 14th day on island:

The main force of the swell had passed but the seas were still heavy with faces of 8-12 ft. We were amped to get out after 3 days of no surf. There was two guys on standup boards and two guys on short boards already out there.

Just as I made it to the line up a double over head barrel of doom bombed through. One of the stand up paddle guys was wearing a life vest. Good idea I thought. Pete was a ways back so he did not see the power of that wave so when he did get out there he quickly moved in deep on the wave. I was playing prudent just on the edge of it all. The guy in vest caught a big one and disappeared down the face on his way towards land.

The other standup paddler was a guy on a little 8'6” looking board and he could not really stand on it in the choppy rolling seas. He would paddle around on his knees and then jump into position as the waves jacked up.

I got on a wave pretty quick. I caught it easy but once I was going it seemed to just keep growing into a huge, broad green face. I stayed up on the top half of the wave, not daring to risk a sweet bottom turn. I kept glancing down the line and could see that this was one of those monster closeouts I had seen from shore. I was sure that it had surpassed my previous big wave record back at Bear Glacier!

I drifted up to the top quarter of the face and aggressively prepared for an exit off the top. I felt bold though and milked it, milked it... Here it comes, the lip! I danced over the top and transitioned back to skier stance cleanly. God damn, that will put a smile on your face! The board had hit hissing velocity and felt lively and nimble at speed. The bigger the wave the more it feels like snowboarding, I reckon.

Pete caught one deep. He rushed by and his tall lanky frame disappeared behind the green roll as it passed by. A moment later his head popped up through the foamy water. He yelled, “My leash!”

“Oh shit!” I was hanging right on the shoulder and started paddling in deep towards Pete. “You want me to get the board?” I hollered. “Yeah!” he yelled as he started making his way out to to Cody and his big board while I pinned it deep into the wave chundered belly of the beast. I knew that this was a short lull in the sets as I caught up to the board. I reached for it then glanced behind just in time to see a wave crashing in from above.

I dive off of my board under the wave. Come to the surface and see another wave. Repeat, repeat. Pete's board is long gone now. I make a few half hearted strokes towards it and then decide to reconsider as another set stands up. 1,2,3 waves on the head. This is serious business.

Pete and Cody were doubled up trying to navigate inside the big waves along the edge of the rip channel. I steered nearby and could see that they were moving too far down the coast just as they were moving into the true danger zone. Then out of the mist the guy with the life vest appeared with Pete's board in tow. He must have caught one of the bombs and ridden all the way inside cleanly.

I felt kind of sheepish in my failed attempt. I did not know the protocol in such situations. I did not know the move. We eagerly paddled back out into the line up. Apparently Pete's leash had come un-velcro ed. It was an 11' 6”rental board after all.

It had been fun driving around town in the red Dodge tourist rental van with three huge paddle boards strapped on top. At 6' 1” I was the shortest to 6' 7” Pete and 6' 5” Cody. Pete dodged and weaved through traffic with a smile on his face. He pulled a 'haole right', a 'haole half park', and a couple of clean 'haole fakes'. They were almost as smooth as the stunning 'japanese parallel park' we had witnessed.

In the lineup Pete was equally bold. He got in late a couple of times on the short boarders and did not give way. I cringed a bit but my wife accuses me of being too empathetic anyway. I ventured in deeper and caught a nice medium sized wave and rode off a clean shoulder. When I looked back I saw a bigger one coming. Survival mode, here we go.

You have too turn and face down the giant and wait. Timing the move. I prefer one hand out front and the other choked up on the paddle, with the blade trailing. Building wall of doom, cresting way up there above me. Dive. Wait for the familiar pull of the big board getting pulled through... POP! There goes my leash!

I came to the surface and saw the guy riding around on his knees. I yelled, “My leash broke!”
“Start swimming!” he answered. My leash was still on my ankle and something told me to just get rid of it. Not worth trying to save $10 dollar part. I was swimming now! Huge wave! It was easy to with no board now at least. The guy on his knees came up near me again. I laid on my back and got going, keeping my face to the oncoming waves so I could see them coming. I swam and I knew I was near the off shore rip current.

I tried to 45 degree out of it but I had to get deep in the crashing pit to go with the flow.

Set on head 1,2,3.

Swim.

Set 1,2.

Swim.

Set 1,2,3,4

The guy on his knees was pacing with me and offering advice. I entertained the brief notion that he was a guardian angle of some sort...

“What the hell is your buddy doing?!” He asked me.

“I think he is after my paddle.” I answered.

“Your paddle is way inside, the other guy is getting it,” He said referring to Pete. I could see the two surfers to my right periodically.

“Am I moving?” I called out.

“Not really,” he answered.

I was getting tired and felt like I was in the middle of the ocean. I was thankful that I had been running a bit trying to get my cardio up to capacity.
Set on head 1,2,3.

I waved to Cody, “Come help me!” He scooted over and I gave a “Hurry up!” He got to me and I was able to grab the tail of his board where the leash connects and I kept swimming along. I started think about what would happen if I was by my self right now. That would be trouble. Who am I going to surf with when Pete and Cody leave?

I encourage Cody, “GO! GO!” We were getting on the inside and I caught a glimpse of Pete chasing after my board. I saw another closeout coming and tried to stay with Cody for a moment but then realized not, “You are on your own!” I shouted as I let go and dove deep under the wave. I came up and could see that Cody had been destroyed. He came up a second later directly under his board. I could see his head bump up then go down again. Then he came up with me power swimming towards him yelling, “Go, go! We gotta be quick!”

We regrouped and plowed on. I gave a wave to the guy on his knees and he disappeared over the back of a wave with a look of being unimpressed.

There was Pete! He had my board and paddle. Later he told how he had come in on my board and had to get on it while trailing his by the leash. He came face to face with a closeout and tried to hang on to my board for dear life. It was ripped free of his grasp at the same time his leash came apart again.

While I had been swimming this whole time he somehow recollected all of the said items and was pushing out as Cody and I were making it in. My hero!

I hopped on my board and exclaimed that I was going in. It took a little patience but I finally slid back into the safety of the fish trap none the worse for wear. It was a pretty solid reality check for me though. This shit is dangerous as here I am convincing myself that backcountry skiing and all of that is too dangerous...

What would I have done by my self?

We regrouped and ventured south to Kealakekua Bay. This is the historic place where Captain Cook came to the Islands as a god and where he died as a man. We had a leisurely paddle across deep blue water. 500 foot cliffs sprang straight up above us. It was awesome and scenic and historic.

I was feeling gun shy at the very end of the day. Pete went and caught a couple of meaty waves off the rocky point. I pulled out at the van and sat on the large cobble stones and watched the sun dip. I reflected on my 'surf career' thus far. I found my self thinking how I need to get a job.

[carpathian]

Get Back on the Horse


I would say that the strongest hint into my frame of mind would be that I did not go surfing for three weeks after my long swim in the Harbor. I had a lot of time to think of my priorities and ambitions as I swam along in the known sharky water.

When I got home at the end of the day I could feel the familiar conflicting emotions as experienced after a dangerous day in the mountains.

“I am strong and tough and I made it!”

“I might not have made it!”

“My friends got me out...”

“What if my friends are not there next time?”

“What is the point?”

This all coincided with a shift in my craving from the stoke of pure adrenaline to the more controlled rush of endorphins unique to endurance cardio activities. Get in shape, set goals. Be safe.

I did get a job. I needed to, it was time. After two months jobless in Alaska followed by 5 weeks jobless here in Hawaii, I felt ready. I had several job offers along the way, but I was felling picky. Roofing in the blazing sun, rock wall building in the blazing sun, framing in the blazing sun...

I played strategy with timing and the wait paid off. Through a friend of a friend I was offered a job as a 'finish carpenter' with a company that exclusively works on 10 million dollar custom homes. Charles Schwab and Elon Musk both have houses up the street from where I am working.

They have these homes built and then let them sit there vacant most of the year while the AC cranks and the infinite pools are maintained regardless of occupancy. I bought a bike for the 9 mile commute along the famous Iron Man race route. It is all a very pleasant environment to be living and working in. I dig the nature of the work, slow motion, technical, finicky and in the shade most of the time.

I can see the break at Kukio from the backyard of the job site. After a week of work I decided to get back in the water.

Friday 4pm

I had my wife meet me at the parking lot with my board. I had the familiar nervous feeling normally reserved for the start gate of one of those extreme ski competitions. The waves were not that extreme but they were meaty. The Kukio Reef Suck... I know the move.

There were two other surfers already out. I stayed on the edge and watched the timing. Heavy sets came in 1,2,3. Perfect. One guy would go, then the next, then it was my turn. You have to get into the impact zone to catch this wave. The water drops into a hole along the reef edge as the swell grows.

The surfers were holding back, letting me catch one. I was ready, then I see a monster coming, “Oh shit!” I think. For about one second I thought I had a chance, then I realized it was futile as I was about 10 feet too far on the inside. I paddled with all of my might and tried to 45 degree to a better spot. The wave picked me up as I took aggressive evasive action by jumping with all my effort backward off the board. My head perfectly cleared the lip and by some miracle my momentum held me on top as the wave passed. My board, however, was in deep. I waited and felt the familiar pull of the leash. It pulled and pulled.

I was thinking, “Oh no, leash break in 3,2,1...” The leash must have pulled out like 30 feet. My head stayed on the surface as I could see the tail of the board poke over the top of the white water.

The leash was pulled taught like I was a fisherman fighting a 10 foot marlin. Finally the board launched over the top and shot towards me and I caught it in front of my face like a fast ball pitch.

“That would have knocked out a tooth or ten,” I thought.

The surfers were smiling and impressed that I had kept my hat on and dry. After that I felt better. I got in the rotation and caught 4-5 waves and it felt good. I got out of the water on a high note.

Saturday 8am

I was driving to Home Depot in the morning and from the highway I could see huge glassy peelers rolling into the Harbor. I could actually see a surfer on a wave as he was arcing huge turns down the line.

“I should go out there,” I thought. My board was on the roof. When I am nervous about getting in the water I subconsciously pick up the pace to maintain momentum. I double stepped down the lava trail. I can hear the surf booming. At the beach the waves are beefy 10-12 foot faces but with a real long period between sets of 3.

I timed my move and made it through the fish trap. The break is maybe 800 yards out. The cluster of stand up paddles are little specks. As I paddle close I see a big set come through. The scale of the waves becomes more apparent as someone broke a leash! And another! I watched from a distance as the other paddlers mounted a rescue operation to the inside for the lost boards.

“Holy shit! What am I doing out here?” I thought. Luckily there was a long break in sets and everyone made it out easily enough. In the lineup people were talking about buying a new leash every year no matter what. Good idea I thought. I was thinking about my leash getting stretched to all hell at Kukio the day before.

Here comes a set! I waited and caught the second wave. It was huge and thundering. I took the time to look around while on the wave. This magic place suspended in the void between creation and destruction. This thing was going to close out for sure. I juked off the top, happy to have my mojo back.

But I knew that things could run amok in a moments notice out here. I caught a couple of more huge waves and they all felt like personal giants. I kept having to turn off the top. Some one said that if you stay a bit more inside you can catch a smaller wave but it will run all the way without closing out.

Check, caught a couple of those. The lineup was getting crowded with 6-8 sups and 2-3 prone surfers. I was feeling good and wanted to end on a high note and go buy a new leash. I was feeling lucky. I made my way in after an hour and half of glassy glory. The swells rolled in through the narrow channel into the fish trap. The tide was high. I thought I knew where I was. Getting in, getting in...

“Oh shit!” I was 20 feet off course and not in the channel. The tide was so high that the normally exposed rocks were now under 6 inch of water. I cursed out loud to the amusement of the pasty white tourists on the beach. I was now sitting on my butt trying to not get urchined.

“God dang it!” Another little swell rolled in and picked me off the rocks and I flopped on my board in the safety of the fish trap. Blood ran down my right hand. I staggered to shore and took the day for a win and went and bought a new leash.

[carpathian]

Girdwood Marathon 2019


Did my race yesterday, sitting here looking at my data, drinking coffee. Life is good...

Oh it turns out the course has almost 3500 ft gain.

I found my self right at the front from the get go along with another guy. We plodded along side by side chatting about trail sections and tactics etc. Though we were out front I felt better that this guy was with me, though he could have been some ex nordic olympian out for a cruise, we have a lot of those around here. We felt like we were pushing the pace and joking about who was gonna crash first.

At mile 8.5 there is a turnaround where we could see the competitors. I was expecting a good 4-5 min gap but no, it was a mere 1 min. #3 and 4 was a couple of top notch mountain running women out for the kill and I suspected I was on the menu...

Mile splits:

1) 8:14
2) 7:56
3) 8:29
4) 8:19
5) 7:51
6) 7:59
7) 8:31
8) 8:40

Picked up the perceived pace a bit and made haste for the next turnaround at mile 12 where we saw we had 3 minutes up on the 3 and 4. # 5,6,7,8 were all in close proximity as well.

9) 8:03
10) 8:16
11) 8:20
12) 10:27

Mile 12 was slow as we had to climb back out of a gorge and this is where my number 2 shadow made his move and jetted up the mile long climb and dropped me hard.

13) 7:51
14) 8:47
15) 7:41
16) 9:05

Mile 13-15 were fast down hill back into town. I could see #1 about a minute up on long straightaway but of course now my legs were feeling it as we approached the biggest climb section of the day.

17) 14:57
18) 17:46
19) 10:16
20) 10:57
21) 12:35

You can see by the numbers that things slowed way down. Combo of steep muddy gnar and me battling the bonk. The 2 ladies passed me easily at mile 18 while I wallowed in misery. Contemplating why I do this. Am I gonna barf?

Up until this point I had been using mantra from one of my favorite youtube run specific guys, Seth James Demoor (check him out!). "Eyes up, pump arms, quick feet"

It was not working any more.

I took my time and drank from every stream I came across knowing that there was 5 or 6 people right behind me. Sure enough guy passes me fast at mile 21.

I know that the flat pavement/ gravel section was coming and I was going to have to lay down some heat to break 4 hours.
I came to the bike path split and I wanted to be there at 3:20 and it was 3:23!! Holy shit I'm on track for my race plan.

I chugged one last Gu and started rolling on the flats feeling half decent.

I was in 5th and could see 4th about 1/4 mile up.
We dropped back into trees and I came up with new mantra that seemed to work

"Im grateful for my health. Im grateful for my family. I'm grateful for being able to even do this"
And the pain seemed to melt away and I started feeling all emotional...

22) 9:12
23) 8:40
24) 8:53
25) 8:19.

I popped out of the woods for last mile and there was #4 guy going slow. I snuck up on him and asked if we were gonna have to sprint to the finish and he laughed and said no and congratulated me on solid bonk recovery. lol

I pushed up the long uphill to the finish. In the distance I could see me wife and daughters sitting there cheering as I chugged along. It actually almost brought a tear to my eye, that funny swelling of emotion that can only come from hard endurance exertion.

Lo and behold, I crossed the finish at 3:59:30 with over all average of 9:26! 4th place same as last year. But I was 20 minutes faster and felt better over all.

So even though I had a bad stretch in there (which I suspect is the nature of the beast) I managed a perfect execution of race strategy. Now I get to take a few weeks off after a long summer race schedule.

[carpathian]

Blazing Byron



Reckless Driving


I guess you could say I’ve done my fair share of ‘reckless driving.’ People might have slightly different opinions as to what can be described as reckless. Some people think skiing off a cliff or big jump is reckless while they happily enjoy easy groomers. And some people think that even going skiing or DH biking or surfing is reckless to begin with, period.

I think something can only be called reckless if injuring innocent bystanders is a real possibility.

I got pulled over the very first day I got my drivers license at age 16. I wasn’t speeding or anything but apparently there where some runaway kids in the area and the cop saw that my friend Abe and I looked pretty young so he pulled us over. I just remember the look on Abes face when the cop asked him if he was a boy or girl! Abe squirmed uncomfortably and mumbled, “I’m a boy.”

Some would say that hanging out with Abe could be considered reckless in of itself, but I will get int that more later.

In general though, my most dangerous driving was done between age 16 and 18. I would crank my little 1988 Subaru GL wagon up to top speed around 85 mph and time trial up the Seward Highway on a daily basis. I think my record was from the Tesoro to the Rabbit Creek overpass was 18 minutes. But that was at two in the morning with no traffic. If there was any traffic in day light hours it was all about passing at any possible straightaway.

I cringe nowadays at the spots I used to pass on a regular basis. Today I set the cruise control on 57 mph and enjoy the ride. Why risk your life for getting to town three minutes sooner on such a short drive?

You see the speeding only comes in handy on longer drives when the net negative time has some mileage to add up to something worthy of risking the lives of innocent highway travelers, like 20 minutes or something…. I jest but am still guilty of the occasional bit of speeding.

A couple years ago I was working down in Soldotna, doing a McDonalds renovation. I would drive down early Monday morning and come home Friday night after work. Following the speed limit it took 1:50 or so.

On the way south on the Monday morning I could make good time but by the time I reached Sterling not only does the speed limit drop but it would also be Soldotna rush hour with a fair amount of cars on the highway and gosh dang if I got stuck behind the school bus.

And driving home there was always a lot of busy road construction from Sterling up to Cooper Landing so that would slow overall progress. Standard summer driving in Alaska.

I was good for several months. Then one stormy night in mid October I decided to start blasting it. Well not really blasting it because my truck does not go all that fast being a 2000 F250 diesel. It is the 7.3 liter and it does an interesting thing right at 70 mph. It becomes perfectly silent. Kind of like that movie ‘Contact’ with Jody Foster when they build that big spinning space ship thing. When she is released from the seat belt and all the shaking stops.

Well the 7.3 is quite loud and shaky in general, until you hit 70. The first time after I bought the truck and hit 70 for the first time I actually thought it had died or stalled or something. All the big engine parts somehow swing together in unison and a perfect harmonic of silence is achieved.

So I made it through the last of the construction and it is getting dark now around 7pm. It was raining and blowing pretty good so I guess that is where the reckless part comes in. Anyone can drive a fast car fast on dry clear pavement in broad daylight. But can you drive moderately fast in bad conditions?!

As the job and weekly commute wore on, one of the things I learned to love was my Friday night when I could set the cruise control at 70, crank some tunes and rocket through Summit and Turnagain Pass. This night was stormy, blowy. Leaves and standing water covered the shiny black pavement in front of me. It was bliss and I was cruising.

I pulled pass Tern Lake and turned off the Sterling Highway and started heading north on the Seward Highway. In my rearview mirror which had been mostly black for the previous hour I could see a line of cars coming up behind me from the Seward side. I decided to stay ahead of this group and punched it up the first long hill.

They were over a mile back but I could see about 10 sets of lights back there. I blazed through Summit managing to keep them at a distance. I couldn’t tell if one car was holding everyone back or what. There are only a few double lane sections and if you are already doing 70 it can be hard to really break free of a group. I would watch in the rearview and see several cars make the move in the double sections and bump it up a couple mph in hot pursuit.

Sure enough the fast drivers in the rear where gaining on me so I eased it up to 75mph. The harsh cross winds would buffet the vehicle and spray would shear off the surface of the standing puddles but the big, heavy 7.3 powered ahead, unperturbed.

We dove down, down, down out of Summit and blew across the Hope bridge and I could see the main pack maybe half mile back. It was uphill now with a double lane about 5 minutes out. I gunned it to keep the RPMs up and hit the double lane fast. As I drew over a rise I could see a slow car cruising in the slow lane and I knew that I was gonna get by him but all these other guys would not.

The prudent driver was probably doing 50 as I was pushing 80 in high powered diesel bliss. I could see in my mirror the mob of headlights hot on my trail. I snaked by the slow driver at the last moment and could see that no other cars made the crucial pass.

‘Ha ha suckers!’ I thought as I easily pulled away again. Brief section of single lane as we neared Johnson Pass trailhead. Then another double lane and I could see the whole group blow by the lone prudent driver. They were on to me again!

I knew there was one more double lane just pass the Johnson parking lot. In the wind swept blurry distance I could see three or four SUV type rigs with trailers. They were in a caravan. They were going slow. This was the last double section up until the top of Turnagain Pass. I had to make this move.

I was holding 80 now and these poor guys were probably doing 45. I could see four rigs, all with trailers. Three of them were in the right lane and but one guy was making HIS big move and trying to get past the three slower ones.

This is when it got surreal. As I passed the first Jeep with trailer I realized how fast I was going. As I passed the second Tundra with trailer I thought about the kids that were probably asleep in the back. I thought about my own kids at home who I was excited to get home and see. As I passed the third rig, probably a Subaru with a pop up trailer or something, I could see that the forth guy was still in the fast lane. He probably didn’t even see the unruly mob of wanna be race car drivers riding up his ass. An unruly mob that was cooking along at 80 and all of which may or may not have known they were all racing each other, if not the imagination of the guy in the big truck in the lead. I’m such an asshole.

The forth guy was still in the left lane and I had about 1 second to decide. Was he gonna see me last second and jump to the right lane real quick like or is he gonna just roll in the left lane as the passing section was was drawing to a close in 3, 2, 1…

[carpathian]

Without missing a beat I juked right into the slow lane and time itself slowed. With all of the combined headlights now right behind me I could see the forest illuminated. Tall cotton woods were lashing in the wind. Yellow leaves scoured the road surface and then an actual tree branch came flying out of the sky from the right and landed some where off to the left in the dark.

I made the pass and could see in my mirror the three slow rigs in the slow lane and at least twelve or fifteen vehicle trying to go fast. Emphasis now on try. The one slow guy in the fast lane finally got the hint and pulled right but by now the momentum of the horde was slowed. I pulled away with speed unchecked as only one guy from the chase group made the pass.

He quickly caught up to me and I could see his low wide headlights. In the distance I could see the massive cluster of vehicles all pinched together as the lanes merged and then they were gone in the night.

Me and my new partner in crime tore off over the pass settled into a comfortable 75 mph. I was on the home stretch and curious as to why this guy behind me wasn’t passing me when he had a chance. I guess I was breaking trail fast enough in bad enough weather that he was happy to follow my tail lights.

I came around the Portage Curve and made the last 10 miles to Girdwood at a good clip with hellacious tail wind now.

I pulled in the Tesoro parking lot side road and seriously wanted to talk to the guy behind me to get his take on the night of reckless driving. I was kind of amazed to see that he was driving shiny brand new Corvette or Viper or some such sports car. I decided against stopping and went home and gave my kids and wife a hug.

Don’t worry there is more. I think it was last year or maybe three years ago, I don’t know, they are all blending together now, I was driving to town in the winter. It had snowed maybe 5 or 6 inches of light cold snow. I pulled out of Girdwood heading north to Anchorage and the traffic was going slow right from the get go.

Right away the traffic was condensed to the right lane and the people were doing maybe 50 mph. The left lane was choked with snow and no one was passing, though it was legit double lane highway. I stayed patient for about 7 miles, all the way around Bird Point. At the Bird Flats double lane I decided I had enough. Yes it was snowy but 50 mph was too slow by my opinion.

I went for the pass and only had get by the one slow guy at the front of the line. When I pulled into the passing lane I could see in my rearview that I was kicking up a huge plume of snowy dust cloud because the snow was so cold and light.

“Ah shit, I’m dusting these guys,” I noted. I knew that the 20 people behind me all hated me now for making a notorious drive even more dangerous. But what was I gonna do? I had places to go, people to see. And we were doing 50 for Pete’s sake!

I made the pass and pulled back over into the right lane and stepped on the gas a bit to make a haste get away. Just as I eased on the gas, keeping in mind that this was winter driving conditions, the rear end of my truck kicked out hard to the right. “Oh shit! Its icy now!” You know sometimes it can be icy but kind of a sticky ice? Especially when it is real cold? Well it was sticky ice before, now it was ‘slick as shit’ ice. The Seward Highway is good for that, massive temperature swings in quarter mile increments that change the conditions quicker then you can change the radio station.

My tail end kicked out and I immediately felt like an ass… again. I knew all the people behind who already hated me saw me almost fish-tale, just confirming their opinion of me.

Alright, I figured I could slowly just ease away from the pack and not worry about steely glares at my tail gate and license plate. But no, the ice only got worse. The temp warmed considerably as it will do later in a storm cycle. No matter how I tried, I could not get more then a turn ahead of the pack of prudent drivers and I was the dick in the lead.

We finally made it to the O’Malley off ramp and I stopped at the red light. The guy I passed 30 miles back pulled up right behind me about 20 seconds later. Well you know, you win some and you lose some.

[carpathian]

I've been putting off writing these last few stories for reasons that will become apparent...

In the meanwhile I've launched a new approach to Youtube and social media in general. I'm going to alternate between action sports, art creation, podcast style interviews, ski building etc etc But in the end Bobo the dog will be the star.

Here are a couple videos you might find entertaining. Don't forget to hit the 'Subscribe' button below!

[carpathian]

August 10, 2020

It has been two years to the day since my friend Abe died. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about how to start writing about this royal bummer of a subject.

I keep having this recurring recollection about a funeral I went to as a kid. I was in Cub Scouts and one of the kids in in my group was named Robert. Robert was cool and we were friends enough that we got together outside of actual Scout events a few times.

One day Robert got on a plane to fly to Dallas to visit his dad for a couple of weeks, as his parents had been divorced for some time. While visiting his dad they went to a shooting range to shoot guns as they do in Texas.

As the story goes, Robert was killed by his dad when the gun accidentally discharged. A rifle? A pistol? I don’t know, that is all they told me. I was not immediately too sad as I really barely knew the kid. But I remember the feeling of being affected by death for the first time. It was not too bad, as far as I could tell as an 8 year old.

The day of the funeral came and Roberts mother first requested that all of the boys in the Cub Scout troop that came would wear their Scout uniforms. She also wanted us to carry the coffin like a squad of adult marines but that idea was turned down by my dad, the scout troop leader.

We went to the funeral and the only thing I can really remember… *short pause…

The Image that is ingrained in my mind was of Robert’s mother being escorted/ carried by a gaggle of sister and brothers and aunts and mothers from her car as she was racked with uncontrollable sobbing. As they lowered the little baby blue coffin in the ground she tore free from the group and threw herself on the box half way into the hole.

Family rushed in and pulled her back as they proceeded with the internment. We watched the coffin disappear into the hole while holding holding the Cub Scout sign; two fingers held at the brow in a final salute to our friend.

As far as Abe goes… Abe was a bastard. At his memorial the recurring toast being hollered and cried out by his mounring friends was “Fuck you, Abe!” It seems like the oddest ode to be found in an insult but that was Abe and he would have loved it.

He was like a mischievous little devil in the form of a human and you would count your blessing he was on your side. So many people in high school thought he was a complete asshole but I got to call hime my best friend. It was with Abe and Ryan who I spent my most formative years I the mountains.

One month after Abe’s death, Ryan and I decided to do a good old fashioned death march from Bird Creek to Girdwood along the mountain ridge tops. We started in the rain and climbed for two hours before gaining the first high point in the ridge around 10 am. The weather called for the rain and we planned on getting wet but right as we topped out, the clouds dispersed into fluffy cotton balls that would dance in the wind along the ridge ahead of us, drenched in sun.

We would be in the fog but the Sun would still be blaring through, turning everything to gold. Then a break! And we could see the water of Turnagain Arm and then a new cloud would roll by like a recovered memory of Abe. Ryan and I laughed our ass’s off as we would just blurt one story after another about the twisted little fucker!

One time Ryan made us stop so he could go into the supermarket for something. I was in the drivers seat, as always and Abe was in the passenger seat. On the dash were three items; Ryan’s toothbrush, toothpaste and an old school film camera. This was 2001 or so.

I can remember Abe picking up the camera, like a baboon maybe and inspecting it. Then his eye spotted the tooth brush and his hand bolted out and grabbed it. He held them both in front of his face with a loo like he had just discovered fire. I was on to him! “What are you gonna do?”

I knew it could not be good. Abe just started laughing and as he laughed he grabbed the tooth paste. He started laughing more as he uncapped the tooth paste and put some on the brush. I was laughing, I though I was still not sure why and asked again, “What are you gonna do with it?!”

He held the camera and took a picture of the toothbrush. And then as quick as lightning he pulled his pants down and started slobbing the tooth brush on his disgusting dirty dick, all while taking pictures and laughing like a maniac. I retrospect maybe he was a maniac and I was his enabler. He scrubbed his nuts enough that I remember them being all frothy as I partly wanted to escape the car but I also wanted to know how fucked Ryan really would be.

Ab had enough. He cleaned the tooth brush in his armpit and set it all back on the dash and then turned to me in a half scold and his finger pointing in my face demanding silence on the subject. I wiped a tear from my cheek and complied.

Back on the ridge top with Ryan, my feet hurt and I knew it was Abe fucking with me. I had very specifically planned on bringing multiple sets of socks for this long day in the mountains. But at the last second I switched backpacks and didn’t realize that I had forgot to grab the socks out of the side pocket.

Our feet had been soaked from the first 10 minutes of the hike and now around 5 hours in, I had some chaffing going on where dirt and debris had worked in around the top of the shoe. Ryan smugly swapped out his socks and I was reminded how I had trained Ryan up in the mountains over 15 years earlier.

[carpathian]

Abe’s feet were always fucked up. Or I should say Abe’s clothing and equipment was always falling apart but he endured. He was seriously only 5’ 2” in high school and for all of the suffering I professed to have endured in the mountains, Abe’s burden was surely double.

I had mentioned a story earlier about Abe having a broken foot and we rode scooters to Girdwood. Good times. A couple of weeks later Abe prematurely pulled his cast apart because it had been saturated too many times and it stank. We told him not to but he insisted. The dang pin that they had put in there had been working its way out next to his pinky toe so he just yanked it out.

The next day we decided to go on an adventure. We biked from the Glen Alps parking lot above Anchorage with skis on our back packs. This was in early June. We biked back about 4 miles to the base of the north side of Ptarmigan Peak. Our plan to climb and ski the gnarly North Couloir that runs right off the summit.

It was fairly hard summer snow. Abe’s foot hurt too much to jam it into a ski boot, the preferred foot wear. Instead he carried his skis and boots over his shoulder while retaining SPD bike shoes on his feet. At the top of the run Abe forced the boot on to the swollen foot and he skied the line.

That night we went to a party at a friend’s house on the Hillside. Abe had 21 shots of tequila and soon took his pants off. He went out in the driveway as we hollered directions at him as to the where-abouts of the imaginary girls out in the yard.

“They are right over behind that bush!” Abe did a couple of stumbled laps around the house before taking off down the driveway, towards the world at large. We ran out and corralled him back o the house. I gathered his pants and any remaining dignity and helped put him to sleep in the garage, curled up on a round dog mat.

A couple of hours later I went to check on him. I found him in the utility bathroom passed out with the top of his head hanging scalp deep in the puke filled toilet bowl. I shook him awake and put his head at ease on the urine stained bowl rim. Again later I checked on him, this time he was drinking the puke filled toilet bowl water with his hand, like it was a fresh mountain stream.

“He was so gross...” Ryan lamented. Ryan and Abe were basically gay butt buddies for another decade after my wife ejected me from the Bro Club. Ryan reminded me of the party Abe threw at his step-dad’s house.

The night actually started at a hotel room that Abe rented on his very own credit card. They destroyed it! I had not joined in on the festivities at that point of the evening yet. They ripped the toilet out and threw in on the floor with the mattress’s and everything else in the room and pissed on it and poured beer out on it for ‘fallen homies’ and then they left.

Fred Bull was there, if you remember him…

Later at his step dad’s condo the party reconvened. Max was a retired Air Force pilot and was very respectful and patient with Abe and his brothers. Over the course of the party Abe put tinfoil in the microwave, smashed vodka screw drivers all over the place, burnt Max’s American flag that hung in the corner, knocked out a Russian exchange student on the fireplace mantel and pissed on a girl who passed out on the couch.

I retrospect I feel bad for having been part of it. I liked Max and I think he and Abe’s mom thought I was a good influence on him. I think I was in general but I did like to encourage Abe’s shenanigans, but in this case I didn’t encourage any of it, for what it is worth. That was Abe, always pushing things to th limit.

One time I was dropping him off at his parents condo, same place as mentioned before. He pulled his bike off the rack and I could see it on the ground behind the car. I looked back over to the passenger window and there is Abe gleefully pissing all over the rearview mirror and window and I yelled, “Stop it!” That only encouraged him as he laughed more and smashed his nasty cock and balls up against the glass while still pissing, making a mess for sure.

I should have just run over his bike. Oh yeah, a few weeks later we did run over his bike on purpose so his mom would get him a new one. To be fair it was a 24” ghetto Huffy and we smashed it flat and Abe told him mom that he crashed and broke it. The whole bike was taco ed out! And she believed him!

Abe use to steal from REI, a lot. He would go in a buy something. Then go back in and grab the same item off the shelf and then go ‘return’ it for cash. Or sometimes he would just go put clothes on in the change room, or once he hid in the circular coat rack and put clothes on there. I swear he specifically cause REI to clamp down on there very lenient return policy.

One time we were in Seward for the Forth of July festivities. We stayed up all night drinking by a river and some people had the audacity to try and sleep in some tents on the beach. Abe and another guy started wrestling right next to the tents and on purpose bulldozed over three or four of them, snapping the tent poles and shredding flies. I thought it was hilarious, but then again, as mentioned before, I might be an asshole.

One time I gave Abe $5 to eat 3 moose turds. He started chewing and the pellets were so dry they got all pasty and he didnt have any water and he nearly choked.

I laughed.

[carpathian]

I didn’t laugh the one time he sprayed Deet right in my mouth.

Abe was so proud of getting people to ‘snap’ and they would want to kill him. I was proud of not ‘snapping’ despite being the target of his concerted effort.

In 11th grade he told half the school that I was gay and that I had hit on him.

He had sex with my sister. He steered me clear and covered for Ryan when Ryan had been having sex with my ex-girlfriend when I didn’t want to be an ex. A decade later he also had sex with same ex-girlfriend, but at least I was long over her by then! He was so proud about that one.

His first girlfriend he got to bang was named Sarah. He would come to school and smash his fingers in your mouth and face before you could react and then laugh while showing you the period blood around finger nails.

I already told the story about how he got Hans kicked off the radio because he had Abe live on the air and he was already 12 beers deep…

I have two regrets. I didn’t invite Abe or any of my Alaska friends to my wedding in Canada. We were so far away and I felt like I had suffered a certain amount of dissociation by the whole move to Canada in the first place. Part of me did not want to see my friends and make me homesick and part of me did not trust Abe to not make a drunken scene.

In recent years Abe had moved on to live in Utah where he worked for MSI in all the free ride comps. He was the actual start guy for a few years and he may have set you out of the gates! I was proud of him for that. Most recently Abe moved to Austria with his new girlfriend. He would come back to Alaska only for a week or two every other year.

The second regret was on Christmas Eve 3 years ago he called and said he was at my house. I was driving home from town and would be there in 5 minutes, I told him. I got there and he had just left. Maybe my wife and kids and domestic bliss had scared hime away? I called him back and we talked a few minutes but he and another friend were off to find a party. I actually really wanted to go with him but had to say good bye and put the kids to bed in anticipation of Santa in the morning. I never did see Abe again.

It was hilarious at the memorial when all of his ex-girlfriends were getting up on the mic and each professing there long lost love for the bastard.

He would have been laughing his ass off, “Look at all those dumb bitches just want my dick!”

And it was true. It was was pretty big for his size and believe me, I saw it way more then I’d like to admit. Speaking of which, it was like 3 months later when Ryan finally got his film developed. He just came running up on Abe punched him in the shoulder and thrust a grainy picture of Abe scrubbing his frothy nuts with Ryan’s tooth brush.

We had totally forgot about that!

And that was the problem Abe left me with. All new friends I would make over the years would be so ‘boring’ and ‘normal’ in comparison. Abe had broke my shock and fun meter and I’ve been recovering ever since.

But for all of his crazy public persona he had a quiet side. I had seen him in a place of introspection. Silence in a long drive home after another close call in the mountains. Silence on the chairlift after 1001 and ski runs together.

But then I remember how one day Ryan and Abe took LSD in eye drop form. They jumped off a classic cliff run called Lolo’s leap over 30 times on refrozen crud. Abe swore to me that he could control the free fall through the forest as he flopped like a ragdoll after another massive double eject impact. Lap after lap with hydrogen peroxide in his hair to help turn it blonde and baby oil on his face to help ‘get a tan’.

In summary that is how I prefer to remember Abe, free falling down the mountain and through life in perfect control.

[carpathian]

Been slow on the writing while launching new YouTube channel. I am really liking the podcast format of all things.
Don't forget to hit the SUBSCRIBE button if you like what has been going on around here! Thanks!!

[carpathian]

Podcast 5 uploading at the moment. Number 6 this weekend. So many people I want to talk to!

Any maggots in the area want to do random interview?