THE MEMORY REMAINS

Today was rather a very difficult day for me and for all of us who knew Paul.

As always, and anyone can attest to this, I always arrived early to all of our ballgames just to get mentally and physically prepared. Such was the case today. I got to the cemetery around 8: 40 a.m. I drove by Lawn AW where Paul was to be put to eternal rest. I couldn't stay and wait for the others to show up at 10:30 so I visited my friend Ken at the Chevrolet dealership where he works that was nearby the memorial park.

As I drove, I drove past the school where Paul and I had batting practice with some of the women on our co-ed team. Paul had a lot of patience. I ran out of gas shagging balls.

Then I got to Glassell Street/Grand Avenue. Off to the north on the other side of the 22 Freeway is W.O. Hart Memorial Park. Many Fugowhee softball games were played on those two fields. Fond memories.

When I arrived at the dealership, I walked inside to the receptionist's desk and I had the receptionist tell Ken that I was here. Ken emerged from his office and we walked outside to the parking lot where our vehicles were.

We walk to his car and he opens up the car door and he hands me his Fugowhee jersey. I cannot recall if I had thrown my jersey away because it didn't fit or that I stored it somewhere else. Nonetheless, Ken came through. My jersey number was 19. His was 11. We chatted outside for a while then went back inside to give him my new mailing address to update their database.

I drove back to the cemetery and got there around 9:30. I walked around with jersey in my right hand. I noticed joggers and walkers. Strange. I could never jog in a cemetery.

I noticed an old familiar face pulling up into the cemetery entrance. It was Dave aka Batman. I waved at him as he drove by and he had this perplexed look on his face. He didn't recognize until I introduced myself. He drove 4 hours from Santa Maria to say goodbye to his friend.

As I strolled back to Lawn AW I noticed Ken had pulled up behind my truck. He had his jersey on and I in turn put mine on.

People started arriving. Old faces. Old faces with forgotten names. Faces with no names, but were friends of Paul and his family.

My other good friend and teammate Bob arrived and he was carrying a placard with the picture I had placed in my blog. The picture was of crystal clear quality. Much better than the one on my blog. I made a comment to Bob, "If it were our time to go, then we should all go at once so that we wouldn't be doing this."

Then I saw Gary arrive with his girlfriend, Kathy. A few months ago, Ken and Paul told me he got married so I offered my hand of congratulations. He wasn't married. Ken and Paul were pulling my leg. Insert foot in mouth. It was all in good gesture.

More people started to arrive. I estimate the mourners to be 100 or more.

Paul's mother, Gabrielle, arrived with her daughter, Kit, and her son-in-law. I never did get his name.

The Reverend Rose was fantastic. I was singled out to step forward to share with the others in attendance on the meaning of our team jersey, "Fugowhee." To make a long story short, the name came to be when a band of ancient Native Americans walked to the top of Santiago Peak and exclaimed, "Where the fug ow whee?"

After telling that story the people gathered burst into laughter amidst their tears of sorrow. I told of how Paul got "peppered" by a line drive and a hard throw. I told of how he wasn't the best baserunner in the world but he always ran out every hit whether he was safe or out. I talked about his fight with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. I touched on a few other topics but I was getting a little choked up and felt it was best I exit center stage before breaking down. Ken and Bob congratulated me on my oration.

There was another gentleman in attendance who stepped forward to speak and told of Paul's chili. He told a great story.

After the services, I approached the Reverend and told him that he gave a great service. He hit on a few things that made me think as I stood by the casket. My eyes panned the many faces with tears in their eyes. I did not shed a tear. I knew Paul wouldn't tolerate seeing a "sea going bellhop" cry since he was Navy and I was in the Marines.

I noticed my ex-wife Mary in attendance. I thanked her for coming and gave her a hug. Paul was her friend as much as mine.

I stayed around and made my way to see old friends and teammates. There was one gentleman who introduced himself and told me that he and Paul started playing softball together in 1970. Incredible. That is a long time!

Another gentleman approached me saying that Paul was a big NASCAR fan and Greg Biffle. I did not know that.

It was decided to have lunch at Claim Jumper as a final tribute. I walked around certain groups to tell them of our intentions. I tried not to have the Donaldson family hear of our plans out of respect for their grief.

I got into my truck and rolled down the windows and hit the Guns N' Roses version of "Knocking on Heaven's Door" and headed down to Claim Jumper.

KNOCKING ON HEAVEN'S DOOR

Ken, Bob, Paul and me at Wallaby's in Santa Ana.

The four of us are the best of friends.

That's me kneeling on the far right yelling, "TIME TO BREED!"

Glory days at Centennial Park in Santa Ana after winning the mens' Sunday softball league championship in the spring of 1989.

Graveside services will be on Tuesday, February 7, 2006 at 10:30 a.m. at Fairhaven Memorial Park in Santa Ana in Lawn AW. Bob, Ken and I will be wearing our Fugowhee softball team jerseys in tribute to our dear beloved friend.

This obituary appeared in the Orange County Register on Wednesday, February 8, 2006:

Paul W. Donaldson, 56, of Tustin, an accountant, died Feb. 1, 2006, of congestive heart failure. Services have been held. Arrangements by Fairhaven Memorial Park & Mortuary, Santa Ana. Survivors: Mother, Gabrielle; sister, Kit Katz.

I received a phone call last night from one of my friends and old Fugowhee softball teammates, Bob. He called to inform me that Paul, fellow teammate and all around good friend, passed away sometime early February 1. He got the news from Ken.

I called Ken's home phone and left a message. He later returned my call. Apparently it was pneumonia. Ken has known Paul since 1980. I cannot imagine how he felt when he first heard the news.

I do not know at this time when the services will be. There are two things in this world I do not like to go to: funerals and hospitals.

Paul used to live in an apartment around Old Town Tustin. He eventually moved in with his mother who has Alzheimer's. I do not know how Mrs. D is doing now that her son has passed away.

Paul was my tax guy for a while. He was an airshow fanatic, especially the one at Chino Airport. We would often frequent Flo's for breakfast. He was our pitcher on the Fugowhee softball team. He always needed a courtesy runner if he reached base safely, because he had weak knees. The one thing you never saw him do was give up. He ran out every hit hobbling down the first base line. We played softball almost every night of the week in mens and co-ed leagues in Orange and Santa Ana. I had a lot of trophies to prove it.

There was one game in particular that we played in Centennial Park in Santa Ana. I was the catcher. There was a hard hit line drive up the middle. Unfortunately Paul was in its path. It caromed off of him. He had no time to react. He winced in pain as he circled the pitcher's plate. And if that wasn't enough "insult to injury" the third baseman picks up the ball to throw to first and hits Paul on the side of the head. Ouch! Poor Paul. All this was happening right before my eyes. If it were me I would have gone down for the count. Not Paul. He hung there. Finished the inning. Finished the game. We won. Afterwards while downing pizza and beer we recounted the game's highlights. We busted a gut. Paul gave me one of his "evil stares" but eventually Paul was laughing, too.

We used to go to Claim Jumper in Santa Ana every Friday night for male bonding night. It would be me, Ken and Paul talking about stuff. We also used to go to Claim Jumper every Sunday morning when they served breakfast. We would waltz in to the bar, plop our Sunday paper down on the counter, order breakfast, and then eat as we read the sports page or comics. I always ordered the "Kitchen Sink Omelet" with extra side of hash browns.

There were other watering holes where we would muster. Louie Louie's especially after batting practice. Pineapple Hill Grill. Benjies. Wallaby's aka Slammy's aka OBs.

I never went to Tustin Tiller Days to taste some of Paul's chili. Maybe it was good I didn't.

A couple of years ago, Paul was stricken with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma (NHL). I was going to ride in his honor for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team In Training cycling team, but never got around to doing it. He pulled through. Just like his baserunning, he never gave up.

I last saw Paul at the Santa Ana Claim Jumper on Friday, January 20, 2006. I hadn't seen him in a while. My friend Ken and I were already there chatting. We got to talking about Paul and how he "looked like sh*t."

Then Paul walked in. He did not look good.

We talked for a little bit. Then it was time for me to leave. We shook hands and said, "See you later."

I was in sorting things out in the garage when I came across that softball picture. That night I had a dream that I attended Paul's funeral. I remember distinctly during the wake. He was wearing his Fugowhee jersey #17. Eerie.

My heart goes out to Paul's family.

Paul, have fun up there in heaven. Just think NO MORE TAXES! No more struggling to meet deadlines or filing extensions with all your clients around April 15. I bet you are trying to convince St. Peter and God to file 1040 EZ. I can imagine that heaven is THE PLACE for an airshow with chalet seating and all the Conmemorativo tequila you can drink. Easy on the spices in the chili too, Paul! We don't want God to experience any Divine Wind.

Goodbye, Paul, I will miss you.

NITERIDER NICAD

To know more about Nite Rider, click on the above title to the link.

The NiteRider NiCad (nickel cadmium) battery I ordered on Monday, January 16, came yesterday. Nite Rider is headquartered in San Diego. Whenever I need something, they have always come through in the clutch. Thanks guys and gals at NiteRider!

This battery can get you in trouble at the airport, because Transportation Security Administration personnel have mistakenly identified it as a bomb. If you were the TSA and saw this flash before your screen, you would be alarmed, too.

SUBLIMINAL MESSAGES?

I couldn't help but notice words inside my REI Traverse pack that I use for my cycling commutes. Amazing what phrases were inside...

God's cathedral is the forest.
The road to heaven is a trail.
Open your ears to the silence.
Climb the peaks within yourself.
The best camera is your memory.
I am a sherpa.
Animals were here before you.
Reach the top.
Make the bottom.
Wind tumbles down.
Move like a glacier.
Carry no burden.
Life begins at the trailhead.
Just about halfway.
You can always take one step more.
Switchbacks keep me rising.
Home is where you pitch it.
Reality is for those that can't deal with nature.
Peaks scratch the sky.

There are more phrases, but I ain't tearing apart my pack to find out. Maybe when it is very worn and frazzled.

It is amazing what you can discover every day.

WILDERNESS PERMIT APPLICATION

Click on the above title to view the form. For any enthusiasts out there planning to hike to the highest in the lower 48 states, feel free to print and fill in and follow the instrucions on the application and good luck.

The groundwork for another dayhike summit attempt of the 14,497 foot Mt. Whitney is in the planning and development stages.

Target date is Wednesday, August 9, 2006. Second choice is Thursday, August 10. Third choice is Tuesday, August 1. The rest will be random weekday dates for August, followed by September, then August weekend dates, and then September weekend dates. About four pages of the application will be filled out and sent after midnight on Wednesday, February 1.

All applications must be received between February 1 through February 14. The lottery will be held Wednesday, February 15. Anyone entering the Whitney Zone the cost is $15.00 per person. You can pay by credit card or personal check. Just watch for any "hits" on your statement. A "hit" means YOU ARE A GO!

The permit will be mailed to:
Wilderness Permit Office
351 Pacu Lane, Suite 200
Bishop, CA 93514
Fax 760-873-2484

One of my co-workers, Horacio, is coordinating the event. I am the team leader.

Me (August 6, 2004; July 12, 2005; August 5, 2005)
Greg
Anthony
Horacio
Garv
Jonathan (August 5, 2005)
Kelly (Horacio's girlfriend)

Besides Jonathan and me, the rest will be trying to summit for the first time. Garv has tried twice and failed. The rest are not experienced hikers, but that will change over the course of the next few months. A vast majority of our training will be at Mt. Baldy with at least one or two hikes scheduled to the top of San Bernardino Peak (10,649). They don't know what their training schedule is like, but they will! Oh, they will!

If I can do it, they can do it.

A TALE OF SIX BOYS

I received this email from one of my friends, Kandy. I pass this on for all to read:

Each year I am hired to go to Washington, DC, with the eighth grade class from Clinton, WI. where I grew up, to videotape their trip. I greatly enjoy visiting our nation's capitol, and each year I take some special memories back with me. This fall's trip was especially memorable.

On the last night of our trip, we stopped at the Iwo Jima memorial. This memorial is the largest bronze statue in the world and depicts one of the most famous photographs in history -- that of the six brave soldiers raising the American Flag at the top of a rocky hill on the island of Iwo Jima, Japan, during WW II.

Over one hundred students and chaperones piled off the buses and headed towards the memorial. I noticed a solitary figure at the base of the statue, and as I got closer he asked, "Where are you guys from?"

I told him that we were fromWisconsin.

"Hey, I'm a cheese head, too! Come gather around, Cheese heads, and I will tell you a story."

James Bradley just happened to be in Washington, DC, to speak at the memorial the following day. He was there that night to say good night to his dad, who has since passed away. He was just about to leave when he saw the buses pull up. I videotaped him as he spoke to us, and received his permission to share what he said from my videotape. It is one thing to tour the incredible monuments filled with history in Washington, D.C., but it is quite another to get the kind of insight we received that night.)

When all had gathered around, he reverently began to speak.

Here are his words that night:

"My name is James Bradley and I'm from Antigo,Wisconsin. My dad is on that statue, and I just wrote a book called "Flags of Our Fathers" which is #5 on the New York Times Best Seller list right now. It is the story of the six boys you see behind me.

"Six boys raised the flag. The first guy putting the pole in the ground is Harlon Block. Harlon was an all-state football player. He enlisted in the Marine Corps with all the senior members of his football team. They were off to play another type of game -- a game called "War." But it didn't turn out to be a game.

"Harlon, at the age of 21, died with his intestines in his hands. I don't say that to gross you out, I say that because there are people who stand in front of this statue and talk about the glory of war. You guys need to know that most of the boys in Iwo Jima were 17, 18, and 19 years old.

(He pointed to the statue) "You see this next guy? That's Rene Gagnon fromNew Hampshire. If you took Rene's helmet off at the moment this photo was taken and looked in the webbing of that helmet, you would find a photograph... a photograph of his girlfriend. Rene put that in there for protection because he was scared. He was 18 years old. Boys won the battle of Iwo Jima. Boys. Not old men.

"The next guy here, the third guy in this tableau, was Sergeant Mike Strank. Mike is my hero. He was the hero of all these guys. They called him the "old man" because he was so old. He was already 24. When Mike would motivate his boys in training camp, he didn't say, 'Let's go kill some Japanese' or 'Let's die for our country.' He knew he was talking to little boys. Instead he would say, 'You do what I say, and I'll get you home to your mothers.'

"The last guy on this side of the statue is Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian from Arizona. Ira Hayes walked off Iwo Jima. He went into the White House with my dad. President Truman told him, 'You're a hero.' He told reporters, 'How can I feel like a hero when 250 of my buddies hit the island with me and only 27 of us walked off alive?'

"So you take your class at school, 250 of you spending a year together having fun, doing everything together. Then all 250 of you hit the beach, but only 27 of your classmates walk off alive. That was Ira Hayes. He had images of horror in his mind. Ira Hayes died dead drunk, face down at the age of 32 -- ten years after this picture was taken.

"The next guy, going around the statue, is Franklin Sousley from Hilltop,Kentucky. A fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. His best friend, who is now 70, told me, 'Yeah, you know, we took two cows up on the porch of the Hilltop General Store. Then we strung wire across the stairs so the cows couldn't get down. Then we fed them Epsom salts. Those cows crapped all night. Yes, he was a fun-lovin' hillbilly boy.

"Franklin died on Iwo Jima at the age of 19. When the telegram came to tell his mother that he was dead, it went to the Hilltop General Store. A barefoot boy ran that telegram up to his mother's farm. The neighbors could hear her scream all night and into the morning. The neighbors lived a quarter of a mile away.

"The next guy, as we continue to go around the statue, is my dad, John Bradley from Antigo,Wisconsin, where I was raised. My dad lived until 1994, but he would never give interviews. When Walter Cronkite's producers, or the New York Times would call, we were trained as little kids to say, 'No, I'm sorry, sir, my dad's not here. He is in Canada fishing. No, there is no phone there, sir. No, we don't know when he is coming back.'

"My dad never fished or even went to Canada. Usually, he was sitting there right at the table eating his Campbell's soup. But we had to tell the press that he was out fishing. He didn't want to talk to the press.

"You see, my dad didn't see himself as a hero. Everyone thinks these guys are heroes, 'cause they are in a photo and on a monument. My dad knew better. He was a medic (Navy corpsman). John Bradley from Wisconsin was a caregiver. In Iwo Jima he probably held over 200 boys as they died. And when boys died inIwo Jima, they writhed and screamed in pain.

"When I was a little boy, my third grade teacher told me that my dad was a hero. When I went home and told my dad that, he looked at me and said, 'I want you always to remember that the heroes of Iwo Jima are the guys who did not come back. Did NOT come back.'

"So that's the story about six nice young boys. Three died on Iwo Jima, and three came back as national heroes. Overall, 7,000 boys died on Iwo Jima in the worst battle in the history of the Marine Corps.

"My voice is giving out, so I will end here. Thank you for your time."

Suddenly, the monument wasn't just a big old piece of metal with a flag sticking out of the top. It came to life before our eyes with the heartfelt words of a son who did indeed have a father who was a hero. Maybe not a hero for the reasons most people would believe, but a hero nonetheless.

We need to remember that God created this vast and glorious world for us to live in, freely, but also at great sacrifice. Let us never forget from the Revolutionary War to the current War on Terrorism and all the wars in-between that sacrifice was made for our freedom. Remember to pray praises for this great country of ours and also pray for those still in murderous unrest around the world. STOP and thank God for being alive and being free at someone else's sacrifice.
God Bless You and God BlessAmerica.

REMINDER: Everyday that you can wake up free, it's going to be a great day.

The Clint Eastwood directed movie, "Flags of Our Fathers," is scheduled for release August 2006.

SOLD?

Signed paperwork for a possible sale of the "shoebox."

iPOD

My 30GB iPod is great! I wanted to get a Nano, but Circuit City was out of stock and an urgency of need outweighed the wait. For $50 more, I figured why not get the 30GB.

Just where am I going to find 7,500 songs, 25,000 photos, and 75 hours of video? CDs I have and maybe that's only 800-900 songs. I do have some DVDs, so I will download two to see how it goes. I will download "Silence of the Lambs" (A census taker tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. Th-th-th-th-th!) and "Touching the Void" (SIMON!).
Photos? I have plenty of those on CDs, too.

I asked the Circuit City associate all kinds of questions. I am not much of a techno-geek, but I am working on it. I used their no interest plan and I got a few accessories. They also threw in $15 of music to download from iTunes. At 99 cents a pop, I am going to make my list of hard-to-get-songs. A vast majority of my music CDs are "best of" or "greatest hits" so I am pretty much covered.

I went to the Apple Store at Fashion Island to get a Speck Tough Skin Case since Circuit City didn't have any at any of their stores. It has a belt clip and I figure that is good enough for me.

I will use my iPod for use during those moments when I want to rock my brains out listening to Metallica or relax listening to the sounds of Japanese classical music.

Use while running, biking or hiking? Never! I intend to keep "in tune" with what is around me.

Besides...

Wouldn't be prudent.

AND THE RAIN CAME DOWN

First major storm of the new year. Heavy rain, gusty winds, and SNOW!

I have been monitoring San Gorgonio Backcountry Bulletin Board. Avalanche conditions will be a major concern during the upcoming winter season.

I will be waiting for more snow and get my permits for either South Fork, San Bernardino Peak or Vivian Creek trails.

2005: A YEAR IN REVIEW

Hiking/running totals: 718.48 miles / 303 hours 52 minutes 54 seconds.

Commute cycling totals: 2,222.96 miles / 145 hours 28 minutes 7 seconds.
Ride days: 137
Non-ride ("wasted") days: 95Weekend/recreational cycling totals: 42.19 miles / 3 hours 8 minutes 48 seconds
Overall ride total: 2,265.15 miles / 148 hours 36 minutes 55 seconds


Pushups: 66,100
Crunches: 119,000
Pullups: 1,310
Bardips: 1,310


Summits for 2005 (elevations in feet):San Gabriel Peak (6,161) -- Red Box Station, ODC, January 29
Rocky Peak (2,714) -- Hummingbird Trail, ODC, March 13
Sunset Peak (5,796) -- Mt. Baldy Village, ODC, March 19
Bedford Peak (3,800) -- Silverado Motorway, ODC, March 26
Bald Peak (3,947) -- Silverado Motorway ODC, March 26
Modjeska Peak (5,496) -- Silverado Motorway, ODC, March 26
Tahquitz Peak (8,828) -- South Ridge Trail, ODC, April 17
Strawberry Peak (6,164) -- Red Box Station, ODC, April 22
Thunder Mountain (8,587) -- Manker Flats-San Antonio Road, ODC, May 14
Timber Mountain (8,303) -- Ice House Canyon, ODC, June 5
Mt. San Antonio (10,064) -- Baldy Bowl-Devil's Backbone-San Antonio Road, ODC, June 25
Mt. Whitney (14,497) -- Mt. Whitney Trail, ODC, July 12
Mt. Whitney (14,497) -- Mt. Whitney Trail, ODC & TFG, August 5
San Bernardino Peak (10,649) -- San Bernardino Peak Trail, August 13
Mt. San Antonio (10,064) -- Baldy Bowl-Devil's Backbone-San Antonio Road, ODC, August 20
Bertha Peak (8,201) -- Cougar Crest Trail (Big Bear), ODC, September 4
Mt. San Antonio (10,064) -- Baldy Bowl Trail, Solo, October 22
Los Pinos Peak (4,510) -- East Horsethief Trail, ODC, November 19

Almanac:January 6: First ride day of the year (16.52 miles / 1:06:34)
January 18: 30,000 cycling commute miles since working at TFG.
January 19: I get a FasTrak transponder. No more fumbling for quarters on the tollways.
January 23: Pulled my left calf and right hamstring in a co-ed softball game. Two limp gimp.
January 26: My sixth year at TFG.
January 29: First summit of San Gabriel Peak (6,161)

February 13: Led my first ODC hike at Crystal Cove State Park. The muddiest ODC hike ever!

March 26: First summits of Modjeska Peak (5,496), Bedford Peak (3,800), Bald Peak (3,947).

April 14: One thousand miles cycling commute.

May 4: "Blogging" for the first time.
May 14: First summit of Thunder Mountain (8,587).

June 5: First summit of Timber Mountain (8,303).
June 13: Unsuccessful Whitney summit. Hyperextended right knee.

July 1: Vivian Creek trail opens after months of logging.
July 12: Second Whitney dayhike summit with ODC members Tonya, Joe, and Adrienne. Their first summit on their first attempt. 22 miles in 13 hours 46 minutes.
July 28: Chemotherapy over. Onward to the next switchback.

August 5: Third Whitney dayhike summit with ODC member Cisco (first summit first try), and friend, Joe (third summit) , and co-workers Garv and Jonathan (first summit first try). 22 miles in 14 hours 27 minutes.
August 13: First summit of San Bernardino Peak (10,649).

September 1: Mandatory Settlement Conference. Divorce final. Time to move on.
September 4: First summit of Bertha Peak (8,201).
September 8: 100th bike commute day.

October 15: The "shoebox" goes up for sale with an asking price of $519,000.
October 22: First solo summit of Mt. San Antonio (10,064) via Baldy Bowl Trail.

November 11: Two thousand commute miles. Egads! Seven months to ride 1,000 miles?
November 14: The "shoebox" drops to $499,000.
November 19: First summit of Los Pinos Peak (4,510). Easy scramble!
November 23-27: Walking in a Whitney Wonderland. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!
November 27: The back goes out trying to repair a vacuum. Go figure!

December 7: Ex-wife "proposes" to pay me $2,000 to move out by January 15. Not! NUTS!
December 8: Sciatica. The back and now this!
December 10: The "shoebox" goes down in price to $485,000.
December 18: The "shoebox" gets a bid for $485,000.
December 25: Another Christmas come and gone.
December 28: Broke the 2,200 mile barrier in cycling commute.
December 29: Signed paperwork for a bid of $475,000 on the shoebox. Counter offers to follow.
December 31: I buy an iPod. Thank you, Mom and Dad! My parents still spoil me so at my ripe age! The one that stores 7500 songs. Jeesh! I don't know that many songs!

And that's the way it was for me in 2005.

I was lucky. There are many of you out there who know of people who lost loved ones and were displaced by the recent hurricanes. I cannot imagine losing my home, my business, my job as well as my worldly possessions and having to evacuate and to live in a strange city without knowing where I will be living next. My heart and prayers go out to those families.

Natural disasters and wars take their toll. We grieve, but we must continue with our lives. Yes, it has been hard for all of us.

I always say to people, "If I can do it, you can do it." We have to pull ourselves up from our despair and continue to live and breathe another day and appreciate all that surrounds us.

Well, damned if we do and damned if we don't. Well, damnit, let's do it!

May your 2006 be a wonderful year. My resolutions? Have fun, ride more, hike more, run more, help others, etc.

In other words...

Carry on and be myself.

RED SKELTON'S RECIPE FOR THE PERFECT MARRIAGE

Two times a week, we go to a nice restaurant, have a little beverage, good food and companionship. She goes on Tuesdays, I go on Fridays.

We also sleep in separate beds. Hers is in California and mine is in Texas.

I take my wife everywhere...but she keeps finding her way back.

I asked my wife where she wanted to go for our anniversary. "Somewhere I haven't been in a long time!" she said. So I suggested the kitchen.

We always hold hands. If I let go, she shops.

She has an electric blender, electric toaster and electric bread maker. She said "There are too many gadgets and no place to sit down!" So I bought her an electric chair.

My wife told me the car wasn't running well because there was water in the carburetor. I asked where the car was; she told me "In the lake."

She got a mud pack and looked great for two days, then the mud fell off.

She ran after the garbage truck, yelling "Am I too late for the garbage?" ...The driver said "No, jump in!"

Remember: Marriage is the number one cause of divorce.

I married Miss Right. I just didn't know her first name was Always.

I haven't spoken to my wife in 18 months, I don't like to interrupt her.

The last fight was my fault though. My wife asked "What's on the TV?" I said "Dust!"

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

May you have a safe and wonderful Christmas with your family and friends.

As for me I will pick a direction and go.

CARPE DIEM

Didn't sleep well last night and this morning. Wasn't anyone or anything keeping me awake. I get into thinking early in the morning.

I figured that my current condition with my back and sciatica is the result of becoming "soft." I have been accustomed to riding 25-30 miles per day. Riding 5 miles each way is not my idea of keeping an "edge."

A lot has transpired in my life these last few months. Some good and some bad. It is time for an attitude adjustment.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference.

Well, I know the things I cannot change and I know what I can change, but I don't need the wisdom to know the difference.

It is time I HAVE to make that difference. Today is the day of MY resurrection. I "cleansed" myself by riding 15.66 miles in 1:03:49 (ride day 132) on my Trek 6700 mountain bike.

That is something I haven't done since I rode 14.31 miles in 59:58 on April 27 (ride day 59).

Carpe diem.

I had to leave work early for a doctor appointment so I rode 5.36 miles in 21:07.

I rode for 21.02 miles. My first 20+ mile ride since September 8 the day after a tragic event.

Carpe diem.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LIBERALS, CONSERVATIVES AND ME

Scenario:

I am walking down a deserted street with my wife and my 2 children. Suddenly, Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein come around the corner and are running at us while screaming obscenities and wielding scimitars. In my hand is a Glock .40 and I am an expert shot. I have mere seconds before they reach us. What do I do?



If I were a Liberal…
Well, that's not enough information to answer the question!

Do they look poor or oppressed?

Have I ever done anything to them that is inspiring them to attack?

Could we run away?

What does my wife think?

What about the kids?

Could I possibly swing the gun like a club and knock the scimitars out of their hands?

What does the law say about this situation?

Is it possible they’d be happy with just killing me?

Do they definitely want to kill me or would they just be content to wound me?

If I were to grab their knees and hold on, could my family get away while they were stabbing me? This is all so confusing!

I need to debate this with some friends for a few days to try to come to a conclusion.



If I were a Conservative…

BANG!



But since I am not a Liberal or a Conservative…

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! click (sounds of clip being ejected and fresh clip installed)

Wife: “Sweetheart, he looks like he’s still moving. What do you kids think?”
Son: “Mom’s right, Dad, I saw them flinch.”

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Daughter: “Nice group, Daddy! Center mass! Can we go home now?”


That’s the way I am.

Disclaimer: This scenario does not reflect my political views. Humorous purposes only. Not responsible for content.

SCIATICA

Sciatica...sounds like a name of a rock and roll band.

This morning while taking a shower I noticed my lower left leg was numb. No major cause for concern, but I am monitoring all the little aches, pains, and numbness and will see my doctor in about another week. It is time to take those soft mattress pads off the bed and sleep on a firm mattress. I have to stay active. Hiking may have to be put on hold, but maybe I can do short hikes with a lighter pack to ease back in.

I rode my bike again to work. Temperatures were not as cold as yesterday. I tried to stand up on my bike while pedaling to see how the leg would hold up. I couldn't.

I am experiencing discomfort as I sit at my desk. Relief comes when I force myself to walk around the confines of the office while looking busy at the same time.

A nice soaking in the Jacuzzi tonight is in order. Maybe a lap or two underwater in the pool may tweak me in the right way.

Refuse to yield.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 2005

The drive home. The following pictures are from my little "detours" home.





















Downtown Randsburg. This town is 22 miles from Ridgecrest on the 395. It is a "living" ghost town.
















Randsburg Post Office.


















I did not see one single hubcap! Pearsonville is on the 395.

















Fossil Falls. That's a 200-foot drop. The basalt has been worn smooth by the river that used to flow during "wetter" times.





























































Coso Junction. Wonder what this place was like back in its heyday?

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 2005

Thought I would work on my tan after feasting on bacon, eggs, bread, and Minute Rice. Weather was quite warm. The radiant brilliance of the sun felt good agains my face and body.

I yelled out a rebel yell and probably scared the bejeezus out of everyone at the campsite. "It's okay folks! I just had to do it!"

My RV neighbors across from my campsite are good people. They are retired and are just living the life. We chat about life in general. I told them my story as to what has transpired in the course of almost 3 months. They have two nephews in the Army serving in Iraq. They are about to rotate out and come home for the holidays. They have two dogs with them. I offered both dogs a piece of bacon and my did I make new friends! I had two little shadows everywhere I went.

My whole day was spent cleaning up the site and putting away the non-essentials to get ready for my drive back to reality on Sunday. When all was done, I downed my traditional two cans of Fosters that I always have for my birthday (due to yesterday's adventure I had to postpone my celebration) as well as some Jack Daniel! Then it was a Mountain House meal of spaghetti with fresh minced garlic and parmesan cheese. I just love my Jetboil system!

The winds returned and not as strong, but this time I was in my REI Half Dome tent up against the rock. Through my tent, I could see the canopy of stars on this clear late November evening.

Where I lay my head is home...

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 2005

Today is my birthday #39! Yeah, right! Age ain't nothing but a number.

This card is from my co-workers.
Lonepine Campground Site #1. Basecamp.
Sunrise. The clouds were an ominous sign.

















What started out as a routine day turned out to be a hike of a lifetime. As you can plainly see from the photos, it was a nice sunny day except for the clouds at the top of Whitney. Yesterday, I got an updated weather report. A storm front was moving through. Meteorologists, BAH! What do they know!

I left my itinerary with my campground neighbors and my approximate time of return.

I struck out for the trail at around 7:00 a.m. and went up the old stock trail. I slowly paced myself past Lone Pine Lake, Outpost Camp, Mirror Lake, Trailside Meadows, Trail Camp.

At 11:45 a.m., I had reached the cables along the 99 switchbacks. All the trailrunning I have done since August did the trick. I experience no altitude sickness symptoms. No headaches and no breathing problems. I was making good time! Beyond the cables I could tell that this would be the end of the hike and it was time to head home. No sense of taking chances. Besides it was starting to snow.

I immediately went into descent mode. If I were to be snowed in, I was prepared. In my 30-pound Gregory Whitney pack, I packed my sleeping bag, bivy, Jetboil cooking system, 2 Mountain House dehydrated packages (Noodles & Chicken, Beef Stroganoff), 1 liter of water, Katadyn Hiker, Snickers, down jacket, balaclava, gloves, goggles, hunter orange cap. If I die, I die warm!

I literally ran off down the entire way doing the "recon shuffle." I got off the trail around 4:00 p.m. I did stop to take a look around to see the current conditions. It is snowing on my birthday! Yeah buddy!

My next worry was driving out of the portal area. I had snow cables, but my pickup does not come with four-wheel drive.

I got to Lone Pine campground in no time. No worries. As I made my way down along the road, I could see to the north that it was raining in the valley. As I made my way into camp, it started to rain.

Later that night, the winds had to be gusting 40 mph! It was blowing so hard that the tent was pressing against my face as if someone was sitting on the tent itself.

I took out my gear and placed it in the bed of my truck and strapped everything down. I moved my truck forward just to ensure that the tree would not get blown over. I doused the fire with and stirred it to make sure the embers were out. I place huge rocks inside the tent to keep it from blowing away.

I hunkered down in the cab of my truck for the rest of the night.

Happy Birthday, Gary!

THANKSGIVING DAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2005

Thanksgiving Day. After a restful (and warm) sleep, I awoke to cook breakfast. It consisted of six sausage patties, three eggs, Minute Rice (had to have it), and V8 juice. There is nothing like cooking on an open fire. I tried to go over easy on the eggs, but wound up eating them scrambled. Oh well. I know my neighbors downwind from me were envious of me as I know the smell of sausage cooking made their olfactory senses go into overload.

After feasting, I cleaned my dishes, straightened up the campsite and put everything into the bear lockers, I drove to the Manzanar War Relocation Center eight miles north of Lone Pine to pay my respects.

When I was growing up in Spanaway, Washington, my mother was friends with a "nisei" who was interned there. I wish I could turn back the hands of time and relive what this lady had to go through. I drove to the cemetery and said a prayer. I later drove around the camp to collect my thoughts.

The Manzanar War Relocation Center was a Japanese-American internment camp during World War II. Manazanar was one of ten camps at which Japanese-Americans, both citizens and resident "aliens," were detained as a "precautionary measure" during World War II. Located at the foot of the imposing, Manzanar held 10,046 internees at its height. Many Japanese-Americans were forcibly relocated and interned. Most lost everything they owned. The camp was closed in November 1945. Many internees did not want to leave because most had nothing to return to. One hundred and thirty-five people died here, but only 15 were buried there (the rest were buried in hometown cemeteries). There is also a pet cemetery, too.

An obelisk shrine was built in the cemetery by a group of internees. There is an inscription in Japanese on the shrine that reads, "Monument to console the souls of the dead." The shrine currently is draped in strings of origami and has offerings of personal items left by survivors and visitors. The park service periodically itemizes and collects these items in order to gauge the changing feelings of visitors.

I left an origami crane I made myself and placed it at the base of the shrine. The winds will carry my crane to the site where my mother's friend once resided.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2005

I started my trip at 5:10 a.m. I went up the 241-261-91-15-395 route. I made a little detour through the town of Ridgecrest and stopped at the Walmart and purchased the Steve Earle CD with the song, "Copperhead Road." I reached Lone Pine around 10:13 and was able to take a few pictures of the surrounding area. After my photo shoots, I proceeded up Whitney Portal Road to my destination at the Whitney Portal area. My first night at Whitney Portal was a very cold one. At this time of year, the portal area is shaded. The pine trees provided some protection from the elements, but I still froze my butt off. It is amazing how one can stare at a fire for hours to pass the time.


On March 16, 1872 at 2:30 a.m. Lone Pine, California was violently awakened by an earthquake. The magnitude of the quake was about the same as the "Big One" in San Francisco in 1906. It literally leveled the town of Lone Pine. Of the 80 buildings, built of mud and adobe, only 20 structures were left standing. Diaz Lake was formed by this quake. Twenty-six people lost their lives that day in the disaster. A mass grave, located just north of Lone Pine, on the upthrust block of the main fault that caused the quake commemorates the site.

They still do this.










Yes, this is Lone Pine's version of Sex
Drive. A fellow ODCer directed me to this ranch. It belongs to her uncle.



Movie Flats Road and Mt. Whitney. Many westerns were shot here. With its dramatic High Sierra backdrop, the Alabama Hills has long been a favorite location for television and movie companies. Since the early 1920's, movie stars such as Tom Mix, Hopalong Cassidy, Gene Autry and the Lone Ranger, have been shooting it out with outlaws. Classics such as "Gunga Din," "Springfield Rifle," and "How the West Was Won," were filmed on sites now known as "Movie Flats" and Movie Flat Rd. The area has been used for current movies such as Speilbergs "Tremors" shot in the 80s and most recently, in1992, "Joshua Tree." Some automobile commercials and advertisements are often filmed in this location.
The plaque.




It took me forever to find this granite formation. There are two more. One requires a ladder to get the picture of a lifetime. Maybe next time. The Lone Pine Visitor Center provided me with the "secret map."

I call this "Thumbs Up Rock." This was nearby the rock formation photo I took above.


On the way up.
The Whitney Portal Store is closed for the winter season from November 1 until April 30.
The frozen pond. People actually fish for brown trout here.

RECOMPRESSION

He has spent his life best who has enjoyed it most.

Samuel Butler

I have been invited to some of my co-workers' homes for Thanksgiving. They are trying to coax me out of going to Whitney alone. Bless their hearts. I thanked them for asking me into their homes, but my mind is set and I am going to do what I set out to do.

Alone, possibly yes. Lonely, no. Alone is a state of being, lonely is a state of mind. I am going to have fun!

I had planned to leave at 2:00 a.m., but I will leave at 4:00 a.m. instead. Instead of heading up the 405 to the 5 and to the 14, I will take the 91 to the I-15 to the 395 and northwards to the holy city of Lone Pine. I feel in my heart this may be the better way to go, but I won't know that until I am on the road jamming to the sounds of Metallica, Steve Earle ("Copperhead Road"), Ozzy, Nugent, Dio, REO Speedwagon. Sunrise will be around 6:30 and I hope to be in the middle of nowhere as it peeks above the eastern horizon.

I expect to be at "base camp" around 8:3o a.m. My first stop is the Sierra Cafe for a big, and I mean big, breakfast. I will keep my ears open for any bit of information. The ranger station is closed this time of year and the locals aren't exactly a good source of information. To them, Mt. Whitney is just another mountain. After gorging myself, I will head up to Whitney Portal to claim my spot. The early bird is going to get his "worm."

It doesn't matter if I am the only one at Whitney Portal or one of a few dozen camping up there on Thanksgiving Day. I hope to meet some interesting people. You never know who you might meet.

If my fellow campers are experiencing their first visit ever at Whitney Portal or have never been on the Mt. Whitney Trail, you can guarantee it I will provide them with as much information as I can. I like to share my Mt. Whitney experiences. I am a valuable resource. I am almost a docent in these here parts.

I will take the time to show them around some of the great trails in the area. Meysan Lakes trail. Whitney Portal National Recreation Trail. The Mt. Whitney Trail where I will show them the "dry" route (old stock trail) and the "wet" one (the current trail).

If trail conditions are favorable, I will take them to the John Muir Wilderness sign, Lone Pine Lake and Outpost Camp. I will show them the secret spring near Big Horn Park.

I will tell them about other places to visit while in the area like the town of Lone Pine (the film festival occurs the first half of every October), the Alabama Hills (where some of the greatest western movies were filmed), the Manzanar War Relocation Center (Japanese internment camp during WWII 8 miles north of Lone Pine), and the ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest (home to Methuselah, the oldest living thing on this planet at 4,767 years-old). There are other places too many to mention. They, too, have a rich history.

On the flip side, should I be the only soul on the mountainside, then I will make good use of my time. Come and go and wander whenever I want. I am bringing a lot of food. The my breakfasts I am bringing bacon, eggs, sausage, muffins. For my lunches and dinners, I will dine on various entrees by Mountain House, hot dogs, hamburgers, potato chips, chili. One thing is for certain, if there are any bears hibernating up there, they won't be as long as I am there. Yes, I will be bringing Minute Rice. Can't bring my small rice cooker. Can't find an extension cord long enough to reach Lone Pine. There are plenty of bear lockers in the area so my food will be safe. I just have to make sure I don't cook, eat and sleep in the same clothes. Wouldn't be prudent!

No portable CD player, portable radio, cellular phone (it will be turned off), musical instrument, newspaper. Just me, my digital camera, and the sights and sounds of the Sierra Nevada. I may bring a book or magazine, but I doubt I will ever open up the pages.

I am looking forward to this trip no matter what the circumstances are. Snow or no snow.

To all my fellow bloggers out there, if there are no more posts on this blog long after the Thanksgiving Day weekend, you can assume that I had died enjoying what I like to do most. Common sense will dictate my actions during my stay. I did not request permission to die on this trip. By God, if I had to drive 5 hours to get here I am going to get my time worth!

Accidents do happen. If something does happen, all is taken care of. My organs are to be donated so that others may live to enjoy life the way I have. My body is to be cremated and my ashes scattered at a pre-determined location. I do not want to be buried in a stainless steel box six feet under with a granite marker telling the world when I was born and when I died. No one is going to care in 20 years anyhow. The world is one big burial ground as it is. My ashes will make great fertilizer!

It is said that when people are born, their hands are clenched. When they leave this world, their hands are open. Upon entering life, they tend to grab everything. Upon leaving, everything they had possessed has slipped away.

The only marker I ask is that a bristlecone pine be planted so that others can marvel the beauty of my tree 4,000 years from now.

Move over, Methuselah!

SOLO

Received word this morning that an interested ODClub hiker from the Bay Area will not be joining me for my trip to Mt. Whitney area during the Thanksgiving Day weekend. At least he told me in advance. So it is I who is the only one listed on the activity. I get to be my own leader and follower and sweeper. How about that!

Solo I go.

I wonder who I will meet at Whitney Portal? What will I see? What will the weather be like? That would be interesting. You never know who you might meet, or what you might see, or what you may experience. I may have the whole place to myself with the exception of possibly a bear, a marmot, a chipmunk, a squirrel, a mule deer, a Clark's jay letting me know I am in THEIR house and in THEIR yard!

At home last night while I was going through my my cold weather gear to prepare for my trip, I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do on my birthday that I have never done in my life. I came here last year but didn't stay for my birthday on Thanksgiving Day. This time I wanted to make it special to make up for last year. Then it hit me like a bolt out of the blue.

This is what I will do on Friday, November 25:

I will try to do what I always wanted to do but never got around to doing during my summer visits. If during my reconaissance hike on Wednesday I find the trails are clear of snow, I will run from Whitney Portal to Lone Pine Lake and back. That's a 5.6 mile roundtrip "run" starting from 8,365 feet above sea level to 9,960 feet. You can guarantee I will run a little further and top out at 10,000 feet before I make my descent.

I know someone out there has done this and it was a walk in the park for them. For me, it's a challenge. I remember a quote I once read: Never back away from a challenge if it is something you really want to do. Duck it, and it will nag you the rest of your life.

Time to put that "nag" to rest!

What I will do to have fun.

BACK IN THE SADDLE

Taken at Castaway Park in Newport Beach overlooking Back Bay.

That's me kneeling on the right with my Team In Training jersey. The dog didn't have a bike or a helmet so it couldn't ride with us. It just wanted its picture taken. Camera hog dog.

I have started to ride my mountain bike on weekends which is something I haven't done since March 27. With all the hiking I do on the weekends, it's no wonder.

It is time for a change of pace. Cross-training. Call it what you will. Cycling, trailrunning, hiking. It all comes together.

So yesterday, on October 29, I rode with my friends on a leisurely ride from Irvine to Newport Back Bay along the San Diego River Trail. Nice day. Not a cloud in the sky. Had to make a slight detour near Back Bay since there was a dog show going on and the local authorities had closed the road from Newport Back Bay to San Joaquin Hills Road.

We went to the Baja Fresh restaurant in Oak Creek Village Food Court in Irvine at Alton and Jeffrey for a post-ride together and lunch. For one member of our group today's ride was her first physical activity since she completed her radiation therapy for breast cancer. Her name is Cynthia. She is the lady second from the right in the above picture. She had a pink "Race for the Cure" cap on while she was eating. I was going to ask her if she was a survivor because I knew all survivors who enter this race get the coveted pink t-shirt and hat as a testament to their will, strength and courage.

I gave her a hug. She deserved it. My heart felt good.

FIRST SNOW

The clouds obscure what is beneath.
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)













Closer to the destination.
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)













We're here!
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)













The Sierra Club Gang. I am not a member.
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)











Prepping.
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)













Moi.
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)













Chitchatting.
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)













Move out!
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)













Two down, two to go.
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)













One of the many switchbacks.
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)













Up.
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)













Snow level.
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)













Still going...up.
(Photo courtesy of Nunya)












Snow comes early on October 16, 2005 in the Angeles National Forest along the Baden-Powell Trail. It started snowing above the 7,000 foot level late in the night of October 15, 2005. The winds were between 20-30 mph. Rain at the lower elevations. Snow at the higher elevation. It was a good day for a hike.







Bear tracks along the Baden-Powell trail. The size of the track is almost 6 inches across. That is my size 10-1/2 Montrail boot. Judging from the size of the print, this was one big bear! Maybe this print belongs to the Abominable Snowman who walks on his tippy-toes!

TRAGEDY ON THE 99 SWITCHBACKS ON THE MT. WHITNEY TRAIL

The following is an article from the San Francisco Chronicle about a hiking tragedy on the slopes of Mt. Whitney on October 3, 2005. Mt. Whitney is still dangerous if you overestimate your limits and underestimate the power of the mountain. My condolences to the Tom Family.

Shortly before he died on the icy and rocky slopes of Mount Whitney on Monday afternoon, Stephen Tom told his hiking partner that the conditions were too treacherous to reach the mountain's summit and he would descend back to the base camp.

"He said, 'I have nothing to prove,' " said Jim Kramer, recalling the words of Tom, a 45-year-old El Cerrito resident, after they had finished a section of the trail that ascends more than 1,700 feet up switchbacks from Trail Camp to Trail Crest.

But Kramer continued to Whitney's 14,497-foot summit, while Tom -- whom friends and family describe as a cautious and calculated risk taker -- and another hiker they had met on the mountain decided it would be safer to sit and slide down a snow chute used by some people during their descent.

The technique, called glissading, could cut an hours-long hike to Trail Camp to as little as 15 minutes and avoid the nearly 100 icy and treacherous switchbacks on the trail. They had watched a hiker glissade the chute earlier in the day, and Tom was an experienced skier and snowboarder.

But the early fall snow was shallow, and after sliding on their backsides for a few hundred feet from the 13,777-foot crest, the snow-covered top portion of the chute gave way to ice.

"It was mind-boggling to me how quickly he could pick up speed. He went from in control to out of control almost instantly," said Michael McEntee, 44, a Mountain View resident who was descending with Tom.

Tom had hiking poles that he tried to use as brakes. He turned on his stomach, facing up the mountain, and tried to slow himself with his feet. At the bottom of the chute, Tom was moving so fast -- at least 50 miles per hour, the accident investigator estimates -- that he could not stop. He hit a refrigerator-size boulder on the edge of the snow meadow and died from the impact.

"You're up so high your perspective is skewed," McEntee said. "I don't think either of us imagined it would be possible to slide across that flat part into rock."

McEntee climbed to a rocky area after he saw Tom lose control. He called for help, and other hikers on the trail guided him to safety. He was uninjured.

The next day, two other hikers glissaded down the chute and lost control, said Sgt. Randy Nixon of the Inyo County sheriff's department. One hiker broke a leg, and the other was knocked unconscious after hitting rocks; both were rescued by helicopter.

"(Glissading) is one of those things that experienced climbers probably won't do," said SP Parker, an internationally certified guide who is a partner in the Sierra Mountain Center, a guiding company in Bishop. Several years ago, Parker led a group on the trail and saw five people injured -- two seriously -- in one day from sliding down the chute.

"It's tempting because it looks so easy," Parker said. "But it's one of the most dangerous things in mountaineering."

Anyone attempting the technique, which can also be done while crouching or standing, should be experienced and have equipment, such as a helmet and an ice ax for braking, Parker said. Tom, who had glissaded once before, 20 years ago, had no equipment besides the poles, his family said.

In the past 12 years, three people have died while glissading on the chute, and about a dozen have suffered injuries requiring helicopter evacuation, Nixon said. He said he does not know how many people have suffered minor or moderate injuries.

Many people have been known to perform the maneuver successfully. Kramer, who descended the chute later in the day, is one of them. He avoided injury by going slowly down the mountain -- it took him an hour -- though he sped up at the bottom and caught air off a boulder. To his horror, he said, he landed near Tom's body, which was not recovered until Tuesday.

In the summer, no special equipment is required to reach the peak of Mount Whitney, the highest point in the lower 48 states. Some people make the nearly 22-mile round trip from Whitney Portal to the summit in one day if conditions are optimal, but others prefer to backpack to one of the camps along the trail such as Outpost Camp, where Tom's group stayed, about 7 miles from the summit.

While weather conditions were good when the two started out Monday, two storms in the past few weeks had made for a slower and more treacherous ascent. The hike from Outpost Camp to Trail Crest had taken about five hours before Tom and McEntee decided to turn back.

At Outpost Camp the night before, Tom had been in typical form -- generous and caring, according to family members -- sharing his tent with a day hiker who was unable to descend the mountain by nightfall. The hiker's girlfriend, who had snow blindness from the trek, was invited to share the tent of some women at the camp.

"Stephen immediately asked if they wanted something to eat or drink, and he gave them miso soup and hot cider," said Mark Kramer, a close friend of Tom and cousin of Jim Kramer who initiated the trip but elected to stay at the base camp that day with a fourth member of the group.

"He was one of the most generous, thoughtful people you could meet. He was a solid, solid friend and a good person," said Mark Kramer, who met Tom when they went to college at UC San Diego 25 years ago.

Tom grew up in Oakland and Danville, graduating from Bishop O'Dowd High School in Oakland. He later graduated from UC San Diego and received his master's degree from the Thunderbird Garvin School of International Management in Glendale, Ariz. He was employed in real estate management for General Electric in Concord. He enjoyed outdoor adventures and was excited to climb the mountain, Mark Kramer said.

"Stephen was doing three of the things that he loved most -- spending time with friends, challenging himself in physical endurance and roughing it in the wild -- when he died," said his brother, Daryl Tom of Danville.

In addition to his brother, he is survived by his parents, Leonard and Katie Tom of Danville; and brothers David Tom and Stuart Tom.

A memorial service for Tom will be held today at 6 p.m. at Wilson & Kratzer Chapel of San Ramon Valley, 825 Hartz Way in Danville. A funeral will be held at 10 a.m. Monday at St. John the Baptist Catholic Church at 11150 San Pablo Ave., El Cerrito.

The family asks that donations in Tom's memory be made to the Red Cross Disaster Relief Fund.

SELFLESS ACT (FOLLOW-UP)

This is a follow-up to the post about my friend's "friend."

Turns out that her "friend" who fell ill was her daughter, Ashley.

What a mom!

SELFLESS ACT

I called my friend, Kandace, and left a message on her voicemail to see how she did on Mt. Whitney.

She returned my call about 30 minutes later. She did not reach the summit. She had to turn around just short of Trail Camp which is about 6 miles (12,000 feet elevation) into the hike to the summit over narrow trails and switchbacks.

One of her hiking friends was vomiting severely and was unable to proceed. Nerves? Altitude? Something she ate? Answers unknown. Situation critical. Her friend needed to get off that trail immediately. Kandy thought it would be best to stay with her friend and return to Whitney Portal. Both made it back safely through the 6 mile ordeal to the trailhead and returned to Lone Pine. I can only imagine that it was probably the longest 12 miles both had to endure.

Kandy, I know you read my blog. And I want you to know and everyone who reads this blog to know what you did was a class act far above and beyond as a friend comforting a friend in a time of dire need. You adhered to the golden rule in hiking by never leaving anyone alone on a trail. Your friend was probably the luckiest person in the world today to have a hiking friend like you by her side on the trail every step of the way. I know how much this hike meant to you and you trained hard since March when you found out you got your Whitney hiking permit. But your heart should feel good. You did the right thing.

I hope to be able to secure a permit through next year's Whitney lottery in February. If I do, there will be a spot on my team for you with your name on it, Kandy. You earned it!

Selfless acts has its rewards in my book.