…..and i’m off home. it was a great summer…i’m extremely glad i stayed and worked at stanford. now time for a little r&r before the affectionately pre-dubbed “hell quarter” kicks in.
coming soon: part 3 of the DiscMagnet™ saga.
Monthly Archive for August, 2002
last friday at around 4pm dan, dave and i loaded up dave’s ford previa van with all of our hiking gear and set out north. we stopped at rei san carlos to pick up some important details, and then we were off to a very slow drive to yosemite. normally a 4-hour drive, we didn’t get to the valley till 11pm. still, it was worth it–my first glimpse of yosemite was of el capitan in the moonlight, faintly glowing as the light grey of the granite reflected the ghostly rays. i wasn’t particularly prepared for the immensity and grandeur of the rock, and we stood on the side of the road and watched for a few minutes before driving the last few miles to curry village, near the base of half-dome, where we parked.
we were all probably a little tired from the tedious drive, but excited to be out of the car and ready to be on our way. we stashed our extra food underneath the car so that bears wouldn’t rip the car open trying to get at it, stretched a little bit, then started walking the mile or so to the trailhead. at the base we said a quick prayer for safety before beginning the epic trek. we opted to go up the mist trail, a shorter and much steeper trail than the john muir, until it intersected john muir at nevada falls. the first hour of the hike was fairly intense, and most of the going was up narrow stairs hewn out of granite and placed at precarious angles along the sides of the mountain.
bears are more or less numerous in the forested yosemite valley, and night is their hunting time, so we had to be careful to make a continuous stream of conversation lest we be too quiet and catch a bear unawares. so with all the talking and stair-hiking we were pretty exhausted by the time we reached nevada. we ate our only trail food, a ration of 2 granola bars each, and refilled our nalgenes with water filtered from the stream above the falls. my pack had a platypus hydration system, which i found to be the most fantastic thing in the world, and which lasted all the way to the summit.
after our very steep introduction, the relatively level section of john muir just past the falls was a welcome break, but the odd sand floor made the going a little slow. still, it was nice, because we were able to turn off our headlamps and walk like stealthy (but noisy) wraiths, our shadows just as visible as ourselves under the light of the moon. soon the trail started cutting back and forth uphill, and we passed the first of the many hikers we were to see on our ascent. as it turned out, there were probably 4 or 5 other largish groups of hikers who were attempting the summit that night.
until we neared the top, the hike was more or less uneventful, staring at the ground and plodding quickly up the steepening trail. we did make one half-an-hour-long error where we missed a fork to the summit path in the dark, and didn’t realize it for about a mile. unfortunately for those who were just close enough behind us to see our lights, they followed us astray. still, not much damage was done and we went back and found the missing fork. from there the cardiovascular nature of our hike increased threefold, and we sweated and pushed our way up neverending winds of stone and forest, tired, but excited about the adventure and wanting to push our endurance some.
finally, we got to The Stairs–steep, narrow, and dangerously sandy prismatized rocks providing little better footing than the granite slabs surrounding them on the last leg to The Cables. we gritted our teeth and pushed up hundreds of them. eventually dan and i forsook the stairs for the smoother, if more dangerous and adventurous route of the rock wall. it was quite angled, but not too much for a good scramble with dan’s 5.10 approach shoes and my grippy trail runners. at the top of that second-to-last peak, i got a glimpse of the cables for the first time, just across a small dip. i got really excited. from my elevated vantage point it looked like the twin metal cables ran at a nearly vertical angle to the top of half-dome. as we got closer, i saw that the angle probably wasn’t more than 45 degrees. still, 45 degrees is more than it sounds like.
the next 15 minutes were spent gloves gripping the cables and pulling myself up, step by careful step, to the top. it was only when i finally crested the last round that the elevation hit me, and i could tell that the air was a little thinner–the final exertion had made me more aware. half-dome stands over 8,000 feet above sea level, and the base of the valley around 3,000, if i remember correctly. so, we had hiked 8 miles in length, and 1 mile in height, to get to the top.
i can only say that i can’t wait to do it again–as i stepped out on the highest rock on the summit and looked around at the moonlight panorama that greeted me, i was immensely joyful. there is a perfect 360 degree view of truly amazing scenery. to call it “scenery” seems a little blasphemous. “scenery” is used to decorate stages for school plays. what i saw were raw, huge mountains thrust upwards from the earth in an immense ring, covered in beautiful coniferous forest, shining with a dim white light, the photons of which reached my eyes across a phenomenal space: clear, without sign or sound of the ravages of human progress. a giant frosty field, the stars gleamed like cold, bright diamonds as the wind whipped across my body, carrying 40-degree-fahrenheit air. i was exhausted, sore, and happy.
the time was 4:30am, roughly 5 hours after our embarking. to our delight and credit, we had reached the top before any of the other groups, all of which started hours before us. thus for about an hour we were the masters of the yosemite early morning, and we used our reign to thank god for his creation.
the spectacle, fortunately, was not yet over: the sunrise was yet to come. we hunkered down in between some rocks to fight off the cold, and made hot chocolate with dave’s whisperlite stove. thus armed, we made it through until sunrise, which greeted us like a color brush to a black-and-white world. all i’d seen for so long was the dull (enchanting nonetheless) palette of the moon, so the sun surprised me with its color as much as its warmth. we expressed our delight at dawn by cooking up instant oatmeal for breakfast–3 packets each, and i’m surprised we weren’t starving for more.
after the sun had been sufficiently raised in the sky, we explored the enormous top of half-dome, chatting occasionally with the others who had finally made it to the top for sunrise. we found a nice rounded crest looking west at the shadow of our monolith, and each had a celebratory cigar, brought specifically to enjoy on the summit.
sooner or later we decided that we had better begin our descent while we were still awake, since none of us had slept in 24 hours and we might have begun to fade fast. we geared up, then went down the cables. going down was nothing like going up–i would grab hold of the cables, give a little jump, and slide from one pole to the next, feet in the air below me. in this fashion i sped down the side in record time. dan was right behind and dave joined us shortly.
from there the descent was mainly mechanical–we moved our feet quickly as we dreamed of the large pizza we would devour upon reaching curry village at the base. all told, excluding one stop at nevada falls to wash feet in the cold stream, we made it down in under 3 hours, following the longer john muir trail from nevada instead of mist. the last half mile of the trail, our legs were so sore that we had to jog, to ease the joints and relieve some tension from muscles. but finally, we made it back and had our ginormous pizza.
food was simply marvelous, but we needed more–sleep. we layed down in various ridiculous positions in dave’s van and napped for a good 3 hours before waking up and deciding that it was time to head back. the original plan had been to camp at yosemite (or outside, for free) saturday night, but we figured that that would be superfluous, since no more events were planned. thus we loaded up the car and made record time back: 3 hours and 15 minutes.
the weekend was most definitely amazing, and seemed like two amazing weekends for the amount of time i was awake. it’s always awesome to see completely stunning examples of god’s power and beauty, not to mention the little touches like grace and love.
i wish i could continue with part 3 of the DiscMagnet™ saga. unfortunately, i am going out of town for the weekend.
dan and dave evans and i are leaving today for yosemite. we aim to get to the park and find a campground by around 8pm, then rest for a few hours before our ascent hike up half dome. it’s a full moon (or just about), so as long as we stay clear of bears it should be a beautiful and surreal experience. we aim to have breakfast on the summit as the sun comes up over the valley, and then take the rest of saturday to hike back, relax, and maybe do some climbing if we can find a good spot.
i am all geared up after my trip to rei yesterday, and i can’t wait to crank out the uphill miles under the ethereal white light of the moon. i’ll be back sunday.
i took some time yesterday and followed through with my earlier plan (see the 19th’s post) to do some reconnaissance and strategizing. 1200 hours found me sneaking around the top floor of the durand engineering building looking for roof access. i found one in the corner of an odd little atrium, and scaled it with my kodak Information-Gathering Super-Device™, or IGSD for short. after pushing aside the heavy trap door to the roof, i found myself standing amidst a rather alarming collection of satellite receivers, radar arrays, and other obviously nefarious pieces of pointy metal and wires.
notwithstanding, i got some great shots of my captive discs with the IGSD, making sure to stay as close to the roofline as possible to avoid detection. i have decided to put the results of my espionage up here. click on the thumbnail to view the annotated versions of the IGSD stills, one from a dangerous location quite close to the DiscMagnet™, and one from the top of durand.
in the next few days i’ll have to use this information to make a legitimate rescue plan. i only hope that the discs have been working out and preparing for escape, so that they will not be caught unawares when i come for them.
virtual disc on spin: can you hear us | david crowder
there are four objects. three of them are frisbees that belong to me. one stanford women’s ultimate, and two stanford men’s ultimate discs. discraft ultrastar 175g — a beautifully overpriced and addicting piece of molded plastic.
the fourth object is the Stanford DiscMagnet™, located in the engineering quad and better known as the 11th hole of the stanford disc golf course (or one of the courses). it has the mysterious property of attracting plastic discs (my discs in particular) in the same way as a physics class magnet attracts iron filings, and has ruthlessly stolen the three aforementioned discs from me while playing the 11th hole.
normally, i would call it the way of the game, the world, or the little faeries that must exist in frisbees to make them spin so fast and perform nature-defying feats like the ’scooper’. however, total merchandise currently beached on top of the DiscMagnet™ sculpture approaches $30. this chafes, since it’s the worth of at least two CDs, gone to waste on top of a glorified ‘techy’ tin can. not to mention the fact that my supply of discs is rapidly diminishing.
thus with steeled will i convinced dan to go with me last night at 11pm to the engineering quad in order to retrieve my discs. we brought our climbing gear, rope, and sharp wits to battle the complacently stolid (yet smirking, i know) fiend. unfortunately also sharp were the edges of the overhung top of the DiscMagnet™, making it an impossibility to use the rope and climb to the top. we explored other ideas of lifting ourselves to the top of the 30-foot beast, but none of them had an acceptable risk factor. we were willing to save the frisbees, but not to lose our lives in the process.
my last idea was to take a bite (a loop) of rope and attempt to toss it completely over the top through a hole in the middle (which was, of course the hole for the golf course) and then slowly drag it back across the top so it would act like a net and scoop any discs in its path off the top and into the hole. as it happened, though, the rope was much to heavy–its own weight precluded it from being thrown 30 feet in the air and then some, in order to make it land on the other side.
all told, it was an hour’s hard work with nothing to show for it. i shook my fists in silent defiance at the stolid cement-and-copper behemoth as we packed up our wonderful, useless, gear and walked away.
still, defeat is only temporary, i assure myself. reconnaissance is now the order of the day–i must find a way to the top of one of the surrounding buildings to see if i can spy the exact location of the frisbees so i can plan the next attack accordingly. i know now that i will have to make good use of the element of surprise…maybe a night parachute drop, or hiring a troupe of ninjas to form a human ladder to the top with lightning speed. anything else and i know the DiscMagnet™ will anticipate my every move.
here’s to imminent victory!
disc on spin: lift yr skinny fists like antennas to heaven | godspeed you black emperor!
not spiraling up or down | corkscrewing | planar | pose in front of the mirror | 2-dimensional moebius strip | mediocrity’s whore | banality at its finest | don’t ask for help | smiling vignettes of meaninglessness | incomprehensible failure | what is grace without repentance | nothing in excess | everything in moderation | even evil | the death of greatness | particulars destroy universals | diminished by will | faux-excellence in naivete | paradox of innocence | wisdom or knowledge | knowledge or carnality | love?innerspace:outerlimits | existence?hope:despair | post-existential apathy | vanity in the flesh | fitter | happier | more productive
it is late but i’m happy. i just did something i’ve been meaning to do for a long time: play guitar in the middle of the quad at midnight.
dan and dave evans and i had a legitimate 2-hour jam session…rock, blues, jazz-funk — we played it all, with the help of a few electric guitars and a very long extension cord.
and, you won’t believe this, there was a ninja practicing his moves in the quad while we were rocking out. i tried to give him my guitar so he could wail on it, because everyone knows ninjas wail on guitars, but he obviously wasn’t a real ninja because he declined. but still he had some cool ninja moves.
it occurred to me just now, as i was talking to god in halting and simplified spanish, that it was a remarkable metaphor for my life as a whole.
it seems as if everything i do is confused and hesitant, a class of things that roll unfamiliarly from the tongue and awkwardly from clumsy hands. my actions show that i am still less than fluent in language, and i’ve realized what it is:
i’m still not completely identified with that second skin my body wants to reject though it knows it is its only hope. i’m the ignorant fool who keeps drinking salt water, thinking it will quench his thirst.
on friday, nick bott and i went to santa barbara in search of one trent wiesen. at the time, of course, we didn’t realize that our search would be futile. we were naive, overly sanguine–as youths such as ourselves are wont to be.
trent, a friend of ours, had invited us to road trip down to his place (a 5 hour trip) for the weekend. the invitation happened some time ago (to our eventual frustration), but only on wednesday night did we decide to accept it; i rented a buick regal from enterprise and we planned our drive for late friday evening. friday evening came quickly, and nick and i made our preparations. sooner or later one of us realized that we needed to call trent and let him know we were coming down. i called his house 3 times that night, with nothing but the answering machine: “hello, you’ve reached the wiesens, please leave a message. beep“.
still, we thought, he had invited us for this weekend; he was just out of the house–obviously not out of town or anything. so we figured we had better get a move on, and we’d continue to call while we drove. we pulled out of stanford at 10:30 or 11:00 pm, and started the long trek. it was a great night–moonless, but the stars were out, and no one else was on the road. feeling the freedom of the long dark stretch ahead of me, i couldn’t restrain myself, and pushed the car over 100mph several times. sadly, it seemed that there was a governor of some sort in effect, because as i hit 110mph the engine would drop down.
needless to say, we made great time to santa barbara. the downside was that, while nick and i knew trent lived in or near santa barbara, we didn’t actually know where his house was. we had kept calling until the hour was no longer decent, but to no avail. thus it happened that at 4am saturday morning, we made the choice to give up on finding trent for the time being, and we directed our course southwest from downtown, where we hoped to find a beach. without too many wrong turns we eventually stumbled upon leadbetter park on the south coast of santa barbara, near the harbor. we pulled into the parking lot, exhausted from driving and singing loudly to CDs the whole way.
it was worth the drive, however, to stumble out into the crisp, foggy, night air and feel cool sand beneath my feet, and to hear the susurrative crash of waves just outside my vision. that night we slept in the car, and woke up around 9 or 10 am.
the first order of business on saturday morning, after leaving leadbetter (and paying a parking fee–they had kindly started charging us for parking at 7am), was to find out what the deal was with trent. no one answered at his home, still, so we called his aunt who lived in los altos. she gave us the address of his house in santa barbara, and we stopped at a gas station to look it up on a map. it turned out he lives 15 or 20 miles north of where we were, so we got in the car and made our way north to goleta. it was difficult to navigate the maze of residential streets based on the sketchy (and sometimes wrong) information from the map at the gas station. eventually, though, we found trent’s house. sitting outside, we called the place again, but no answer. they were definitely not home. we composed a short note and went to stick it to their door, asking them to call when trent got back.
at the door, we noticed motion inside….was someone there after all? we knocked. the door cracked open an inch, then another inch, then a foot..suspicion…the person behind the door was asian, possibly vietnamese, male, and looked to be about 22. nothing at all like trent or his family. nick and i were obviously confused, but as the man made no move to initiate conversation, we asked, “is trent there?”. in halting english came the counter-question: “are you the police?” nick and i looked at each other. “no, we are just looking for trent–we’re friends…not police.” he opened the door a little wider and looked around. then he informed us that the wiesens were gone on a family vacation until the 13th.
we thanked the man and left, never finding out who he was, or what he was doing in the wiesen’s house.
for a moment we were disappointed, but then realized that the possibility for adventure had definitely increased. our minds began to imagine all the places we could go with a car and nothing better to do. some of the suggestions were the grand canyon, phoenix, las vegas, orange county, san diego, death valley, and a host of other tantalizing locations. we soon faced the hard truth, however, that many of these places would take 8 or 9 hours to drive….leaving us with a 12 or 13 hour drive back to stanford on sunday. coming back to reality, we decided to stay in santa barbara and hang out at the beach on saturday, and maybe go visit the wine country on sunday on our way back up.
we did hang out at the beach all saturday–reading, sleeping, throwing the frisbee, and in general feeling that pleasant laziness that comes from the sun kissing with poisoned lips, sapping strength while exuding golden nectar. as it happened we got hungry around the same time we were going to start roasting, so we went in search of dinner. our search ended very abruptly upon sight of a fresh choice eating establishment on state street. we stuffed ourselves with all-you-can-eat salads, pastas, breads, soups, and pizzas. fat and happy, we lumbered across the street and caught the 7:20 showing of signs at the paseo nuevo theatres. a great movie with a lot to say for it, and it had wonderfully visceral tension without being grossly shocking. the characteristic darkly toned suspense i’ve come to expect from m. night shamalayan.
after the movie we were once again exhausted, so we parked our buick next to the same beach as the night before, and slept peacefully (if fitfully) in the cushy reclining front seats.
sunday morning was more of the same–inspiring devotionals on the beach just after sunrise, then more baking in the sun during the midday. i finally finished a book i’ve been working on for over a year: warranted christian belief — the concluding book in the trilogy concerning the epistemological notion of warrant, by alvin plantinga. a must-read for any epistemologist with at least a few years of philosophical training.
sunday afternoon found us on state highway 154, snaking northeast through beautiful mountainous desert interspersed with the occasional lush vineyard. just past solvang, the dutch experiment in california, we turned into the grounds of the bridlewood winery. we sat at a table looking over a small valley on which hills grew the lush varieties of grapes used to make exquisite wines. we talked about deeply important, philosophico-theological things, like the meaning of hope and the conundrum of coincidence. it didn’t surprise me anymore that nick would bringn these things up as topics of conversation — his love for stretching his mind in contemplation of spiritual truths had been amply demonstrated to me time and time again. a refreshing quality.
also refreshing was our retreat from the sun into the cool, oak-lined hall where we tasted 5 of bridlewood’s best wines. nick and i voted unanimously that the 1999 chardonnay was possibly the best wine we’d ever tasted. and at half price, we couldn’t resist picking up a bottle.
with that, our adventure was officially over–we got in our de facto motorhome and i braced myself for the long 5 hours of driving ahead of us. stopping once only, for gas and subway sandwiches, we made great time and passed many slow people on our way north. the highlight of the drive was at sunset–flying at 90 mph with the long shadows of gigantic poplar trees on the left making dark furrows in the golden green of the farmland to our right, as dead ahead and to our sides we were ringed by mountains and hills that looked like gigantic sand dunes that god had raked his finger through, while we were listening to what can only be described as a paean of absolute beauty in the form of the final anthems of the gladiator soundtrack, and realizing with each charged strain, the transcendental lens of music, that sometimes heaven can’t help but bleed through to the earth.
we rolled into nick’s half moon bay beach house at 10pm, and relaxed in the hot tub after celebrating our safe return with a glass of the chardonnay. i spent the night there and drove home this morning, shirking work and all other responsibilities in order to go grocery shopping and take a much-needed shower.
our search for trent was futile, but the trip was most definitely not.
welcome to my new home. sit down, listen to the minidisc player, and get knighted. or, search for deeper meaning….and leave a comment with your interpretation.
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