Time to do it...

Follow our journey to the land of the enlightened. We leave on October 29th and return on November 20th. Click on the link below to see where we are today... 

Annapurna 2011

Casaval Ridge, Mount Shasta

Paul, Eric and I out for a go at Casaval Ridge, Mount Shasta, California. We ended up pulling at 11,900' just below the hourglass.

The dead of winter in the middle of May on Shasta?

This past weekend, I was guiding a great group of climbers up on Mt. Shasta. They were mostly all from the Seattle area raising money for the Hutchinson Center for Cancer Research. Most all of them have climbed mountains before. At gear check on Friday morning at the 5th Season, it was rare to have somebody with any rented equipment. Me and the rest of the guides were stoked. It seemed like we had a strong group of 17 that all knew each other relatively well and were ready to climb. From the parking lot, we could not see a cloud in the sky and the standard flip flops and boardshorts were the attire. As we wrapped up the gear check and final instructions, the clouds rolled in like a freight train. We knew there was a chance of showers in the afternoon and colder temps with high winds, but the morning gave no indication as to what were in store for.


When we reached Bunny Flat trail head, a full springtime snowstorm was in effect. The kind of storm where you would get a sunburn AND an inch of graupel within an hour. Day one found us at Horse camp and sharing the warming hut for cooking detail. It was great to share the space as the storm was developing outside. By nightfall, the winds had picked up to a steady 30 mph and the snow came in waves.

Day two had us on the move for high camp at 10,400’ before the summit attempt. Spirits were high as we climbed. The wind had subsided for a time and the sun came out. It was downright hot with all of the residual radiation coming off the snow and lack of wind. It was the “Country Club” climbing these folks from the Northwest had signed up for. We arrived at Lake Helen parched. We divided up the duties of brewing water and helping set up camp. No sooner than the tents were up, the clouds rolled in and deposited another 6” of snow. Temps dropped like a rock and the wind returned with a vengeance. From that point on, it was pure survival mode. We rushed getting the rest of the water brewed as the spindrifts kept extinguishing the stoves like a kid blowing out birthday candles. Finally to bed as the intensity built to gale force winds and the temps dropped to single digits. It was cold, and getting colder. The tent lines whistled in the wind while the tent fly danced and stretched over the poles. The flapping was loud and non-stop. Sleeping was not in the cards.

2:45am. Summit bid wake-up. Turn on the radio to check in with the other guides and assess the situation. The current temperature was -1 Fahrenheit with 35+ MPH winds. The wind chill was around -34F. We quickly decided that the summit chances, with this group, was off for fear of frostbite. By 4am, I went stir crazy with the wind unrelenting on my tent and the fact that I had a 20 degree bag in far colder conditions. I got up and dressed to try to warm up. I love this time in the morning where the sun is rising and the clouds create images on far away canvases. As I watched the sun come up, I watched multiple groups try to gain the avalanche gulch, only to turn around because of the horrid conditions. I knew we made the right call. Later in the morning, I had to talk multiple team members out of their disdain for not attempting to summit. I assured them the only thing they missed out on was the unquestionable likelihood of losing digits. Not on my watch.

New Years on Pico Orizaba

Garmin GPS track of the climb
flickr link to the photos

Why not?

In June, Caron, my girlfriend and I met this couple at a going away party for my friend Liz. We ended up just chatting. You know, the usual; Where are you from? How do you know our friend Liz? What do you do? The conversation took a drastic turn when one of them glanced down at my feet. You wouldn't think the following question would be a life altering moment...but hey, take it as it comes. "Where are your big toenails?" asked one of them.
"Well, funny thing, I lost them climbing Shasta (again) this summer," I replied.
Next thing you knew we were talking about their trip to Argentina and their climbing trip up Mt. Aconcagua. After about 30 minutes of back and forth questions, we were duly talked into the idea of giving it a shot. We had already planned on spending 3 weeks in South America over the winter holidays. Now we had a destination.
So, now, after months of preperations, consultations, discussions, hikes, weight lifting, learning to pee in a bottle in a tent in the middle of the night, we are ready. We have spreadsheet upon spreadsheet of logistics, aclimitization schedules, calories per gram for the foods we are carying, and a plethora of other details that someday I will put into some sort of report and post it somewhere on the interweb.
What is an Aconcagua?
It's a beast of a mountain. All 22,841 feet. It happens to be the highest of all mountains in both the Western and Southern Hemispheres. We are taking the Normal Route up to the top. We are departing today for Buenos Aires. On Monday we fly to Mendoza and buy the last of our delightful trail food, hire some mules to carry our 200 pounds of stuff to the base (2 days trek in), and get a good night sleep in a nice hotel. On Tuesday, January 16, we embark on our journey. We will be hopefully summiting on the 28th if all goes perfectly. Regardless, we have hotel reservations in Mendoza on the 2nd, so one way or another, we are back, eating the best beef in the world and drinking Malbec wine by a pool.

Read up on the mountain if you would like. We will have more to come once we get around a computer after the climb.

Until then, enjoy the ride (or climb)

Shasta: Certain Uncertainity

"The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts of today."

Franklin Delano Roosevelt:

Everything went according to plan. Almost.


It was a trip rife with uncertainty. This was a first for me in many respects. First time climbing Shasta. First time attempting a 14'er, and really first time over 12,000 feet. First time hiking through the night to destination unseen and virtually unknown. I had good reasons to feel uncertain of the journey I was about to embark on.


I left work on Tuesday afternoon around 3:30pm. On the drive up, I had plenty of time to think about a lot of things. I found myself having driven the whole 4 plus hours without listening to a single song on the IPOD. Now that is unheard of for me. But given the things I had to think about, music would have had no use or effect on me, I was deep in thought. Everyone on that mountain tomorrow was climbing for a cause, Cancer. More specifically breast cancer. I needed to look only near to my heart to find my inspiration to climb. Cancer will affect us all in one way or another throughout our lives. I chose to think about someone that I know that has been threatened by cancer, not someone that has lost the battle. Not that my meager steps can cure anything, but my intent thoughts about the significance of this person in my life and how to possibly make a difference in theirs when they might need it the most. That is powerful.


Before I knew it, I was in Mt. Shasta City by 8:00pm. I grabbed a big chicken pesto sandwich at the local Italian restaurant and I headed up the mountain to the trailhead; Bunny Flat, elevation 6950ft. I changed out of my work clothes into some shorts and a t-shirt, pulled on my boots, took one last check of the equipment and threw on my pack. There was a blanket of clouds covering the peak, and it smelled like rain. I was already nervous that this was going to turn into a wet slog and an exercise in futility. But I press on, ready for what comes at me.


My first section is a simple 2 mile hike to Horse Camp, a place where in the olden days, mountaineers would ride their horses to and tie them up while they climbed up Avalanche Gully. The Sierra Club has built a small warming hut there fully stocked for emergencies, and general shelter from the elements for hikers and climbers. It is at Horse Camp that I am going to meet up with some co-workers from Clif bar, Kim and Jennifer. They have been selected to raise money and climb for the Breast Cancer Fund. I knew that there would be a lot of people on the route on Wednesday morning, which is the only reason I decided to go Solo. I would be climbing alone, but there would be 35 people around me if I got into any trouble and needed help.


I managed to let my nerves get the best of me at the start. I waffled around the trailhead, not quite sure which trail I needed to take. There was one very distinct trail I followed for about a mile or so, but it felt like it was going too far to the left of the Avalanche Gully. So I backtracked to the main junction. I then followed the trail the seemed to go a little more to the right and it too was feeling all wrong. I pulled out my map, took a good look, in the dark, under headlamp, and retraced my steps back the the junction. I then took the original trail off to the left. I felt some relief that it was well traveled, unlike the last one. The rain started to fall ever so lightly. It smelled good, and it felt even better. It was 9:30, and it was still in the low 80's at 7500 feet. I noted that at my cabin last weekend, 2 days prior, we arrived around 11:00pm and it was still in the 70's, but much lower in altitude. I was in for a warm hike. My thoughts were if I were to get "lost" I had my GPS with the location of the car locked in, so I could at least find my way back to there. I was just going to hike till I got tired, sleep, and then access where I am in the morning. If it started to downpour, I would retreat to the sanctuary of my car and reassess the situation. Finally, if I made it to Horse Camp, I would reset my goals for the summit with the same parameters.



I arrived at the Sierra Club hut at Horse Camp around 10pm (right on time according to my plan) and immediately checked in with my support crew of Seth and Caron by sending a text. Caron's response was "Glad you made it. Sleep tight and good luck tomorrow." If she only knew where I was going to be sleeping, and for how little time. It amazes me that I can be on the side of some crazy mountain and have cell service. Thank goodness. I left my climbing plans with both of them and promised I would check in at regular intervals along the way if there was service. (Which there was the whole time.) They were my safety net. It always feels good to know somebody out there is aware of your existence. I managed to run into a couple of people that will be climbing with the BCF. I mentioned that I worked for Clif Bar and that I was there to cheer them on. One lady noted that my co workers were departing around 1am and that I could find them up on hikers right of the trail.

I settled down on the side of the hut, sitting on some foundation rocks, just enjoying the warm evening when it started to pour rain. I gathered my stuff and moved to the inside of the little hut. After about an hour, the rain stopped and I could then head back outside, where it was much cooler than inside the hut, and now it was clear. I laid down on the same rock foundation wall and I could see a gazillion stars which reminded me of sleeping on the deck of my cabin only two nights before. I needed to rest my eyes, for I only had an hour or so till I was to start climbing.

Sure enough, at midnight I could hear lots of people rustling in their tents, getting ready to climb. My plan was to let the first group go out front so I had somebody to follow in the dark and let the other groups follow me. That way, I could see where to go, and have back-up if I was to get into trouble. Hiking in the dark is a trip. Your headlamp is your only source of light. While you are out in the great wide open, your realm of reality is really only the small cone of light coming from your headlamp. While I was not scared, I was respectful of the severity of what I was doing. I did have the confidence in knowing that it was not too hard to find my way. Just go up. And coming back, just go down. Simple...right? And it was, but still, 6 miles and 7000 feet of climbing is no walk in the park. If there is anything to create uncertainty, it is the environment that I was currently challenged with. A baby cone of light all by it's lonesome in this vast space on the side of this serious mountain. My only guidance is gravity. I know to walk in the direction of most resistance...and that is about it.


Within an hour, I caught and passed the group ahead of me. As per my usual luck, the guide taking up the rear is a friend of a friend from Jackson Hole Wyoming. We chatted for a few minutes before I passed the group. Luckily, I met up with two guides that had no clients and were there for additional support if need be. They were traveling fast, like I, and they allowed me to tag along. We got up to Helen Lake at 10,500 feet (which is not a lake, but a big pile of avalanche sluff) where we took a break. I refilled my water bottles in a nearby spring. It was still incredibly warm. I had on a pair of running tights and a turtleneck. Not bad for the middle of the night.

At 11,000 feet, the snow climbing started. I have been essentially hiking up a large, inverted funnel. The higher I get, the tighter it gets and the steeper it gets. From what I hear, at the top, the slope is over 50 degrees in pitch. The guides tell me that the easiest route I had intended on climbing is unclimbable due to severe lack of snow. Oh, oh! What does this mean for me? I am certainly not going to climb something out of my comfort and ability zone. They tell me that we can only make it up "Left of the Heart." I remember reading in the guide that this is a more direct route to the top, but it is much steeper and a bit more of a challenge. Is my climb over? My uncertainty grows, yet I continue. I figure, I will go as long as I feel like I am not in danger to myself or anybody else.

The two guides and I manage to make it up to 12,000 feet before the sunrise, still 1,200 feet below the crux of the climb, the 50 degree section of ice. Upon the first light, as we climb by, we all notice this rather large rock precariously balanced on this pedestal of unmelted snow beneath it. Imagine a Volkswagen Beetle balanced on a garbage can, but not quite as high. Later, we all mention that we just had a very bad feeling and energy from the rock, yet none of us mentioned it at the time. We continued on, and at this altitude, coming from sea level the night before, I noticed I was moving in slow motion. Breathing was becoming a bit laborious. Still, I keep moving, and feeling nervous about what was to come.
"Rock! Rock! Rock!" I hear repeatedly from down below. The yell was not of caution, but of fear. I quickly look uphill to clear myself. Whew, okay. I whip my head downhill to see that large rock we passed rolling quickly towards all of the teams of women below us 1,000 feet. They were all directly in it's line while it gained speed. People were diving right and left like crickets trying to avoid the oncoming locomotive of a rock. You could hear panic in their voices, and I could hear my heart stop. Someone was going to die, I thought. At one point the rock hit another rock and it split in two. Now people did not know what to do. Dive from one into the line of another. I knew my co-workers were at the bottom of the chute, directly in it's path. As the rock careened out of sight, there was an erie silence that came over me and the two guides. Quickly, they were on their radios, getting a damage report. I thought for sure we would be switching into rescue mode. We could hear the other guides all report in one by one. Two women were shaken up pretty badly and in shock, but nobody was directly hit. Nobody died.


I sat there for a good few minutes, collecting myself. What did I want to do? Continue on? or down climb and just go home. My mind was strewn with thoughts of home and loved ones whom I desperately wanted to see right then and there and let them know how much they mean to me. But alas, I have lived my life in such a way that they already know this. I tell them all the time. Still, I am uncertain as to whether this was a sign from the mountain that she did not want us to climb her today, or was it just a test of desire to continue despite the uncertainty at hand. After a good mental inventory, I decided to continue on, but with great respect and caution. I want to climb high, but I don't want to die. I have people at home I want to see again, now more than ever.


At 7:30 am, I climbed up through the 50 degree chute "Left of the Heart" and onto the ridgeline at 13,200 feet. I had made it past the hardest part. I was elated that I had made it this far, higher than I have ever been on my own two feet. Upon my joyous celebration, I quickly looked in the direction of the summit to learn of my next hardship. Thunderclouds.

I still had over 1,000 feet to climb up Misery hill and finally onto the summit, and I could not even see the summit. It was covered in clouds. My heart sank. My climb was certainly over. I walked to the base of Misery hill and started up the first switchback when the rain came. Being on a peak or a ridgeline in a thunderstorm is no place to be. The risk of lightning is way too high to sit around there. I retreated to below the rocks in the chute. I was safe from lightning, I had a commanding view of the the climb below me and I was out of the rain. I figured I would sit there a while and enjoy the fruits of my view. It was a great time to reflect on the reason I was there, climbing in the name of someone else. Every step to this point had a hint of significance, and not of my own, but that of someone else. I was bummed that I was not able to make it to the top and raise my hands in dedication, sign the summit registry, enjoy the feeling of accomplishment of reaching the summit. Or could I still make it??? My mind quickly shifted from quiet defeat to the air of uncertain possibility. It was 7:30 am. My designated turn around time is 12:00 noon. I still have time. The weather may clear. Pigs may fly. I have a chance still and I am not leaving till that chance is gone. I reached in my bag and started eating my Clif Bars and drinking my water, prepping for a summit push if I get the opportunity. The rain has stopped. I think I will go topside and check it out.


As I climbed to the ridgeline for the second time, i was elated to see that not only had the rain let up, but there was a noticeable change in the density of the clouds shrouding the summit. I looked out onto the horizon and I could see blue sky. The winds tell me that that blue sky is coming my way. I time it and figure that I have an hour till the clouds open up and the summit will be in the clear. I start back over to the base of Misery Hill. My stomach is in knots. I am now not nervous, but scared. What if I am wrong? What if I get struck by lightning? What if the leaning tower of Pisa topples? All things are possible. I carefully and calculatingly walk up the trail leading to the top of Misery hill. The wind is fierce. As I walk on the switchbacks from into the wind to away from the wind, I have to catch myself from toppling over from the side wind. Slowly and nervously, I continue. I keep an eye on the clouds behind me blowing my way and I keep another eye on the summit. As time passes, the summit becomes more and more clear. I take another look behind me to notice that my plan is working. The clearing is soon approaching. As I crest Misery hill, I can see that the summit is now within reach, and the clouds are all but vanished. This is the final push. Every step at this altitude is intent. You don't want to be wasting valuable energy and oxygen. I scramble over the final scree field and climb up the last bit of trail up to the peak. Upon reaching the top, an elation has overcome me. I have conquered all the uncertainty to be here, and it was worth it. I thought a lot about how I had made it and what it all meant. I thought about the person whom I dedicated the climb to and I well up with emotion. I thought finally about the fact that I was only halfway to the finish and I should enjoy it for a bit more, than head on down, carefully. Get home.
All the way down the mountain, back to the car, and finally all the way home into bed that night, I thought a lot about how so many times I thought the climb would never take me to the summit, yet I never stopped believing it could be done, and that made all the difference.

"Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we often might win, by fearing to attempt."

Jane Addams:

Addendum: I keep getting e-mails asking who this mystery person is that I climbed for. It is a personal thing, between me and them. If you really must know, climb up there yourself and read the summit registry from July 11, 2007.

Another Day, Another Journey...

You would think after spending the weekend up in the Sierras climbing, conversing and relaxing, what I am about to embark on would be the last thing you would think of...

"A man travels the world over in search of what he needs, and returns
home to find it."
- George Moore

After work tomorrow, I am heading to the base of Mt. Shasta in advance of climbing to the summit (14,162) on Wednesday morning. I will arise around midnight, make some breakfast, turn on my headlamp and set out into the dark to climb over 6000 feet in a little over 6 miles straight up Avalanche Gulch, alone.

Now before you go getting all worried, I have three things to say. First, I will technically be alone, but this is one of the most climbed peaks in the US and I will be climbing the most common and easiest route up there. Additionally, I do know that there will be a party attempting to summit from Horse Camp, 2 miles up the trail, at 2 am. A few co-workers are in that group climbing in the fight against breast cancer. So there will be lots of people around. I did ask a few different people to join me, but for for varying reasons, they all declined to go.

Second, I do know what I am doing. I have spent the better part of my life in the mountains and I know to respect the mountains with great humility. This time of year, there is virtually no risk of avalanche, little risk of snow storm, and occasional risk of afternoon thunder storm (which is why I am leaving so early.) My turn around time will be 12 noon. Wherever I am at noon, I turn around, no matter what. There is a late afternoon risk of lightning, as well as the temps go up significantly and that increases the chance of rockfall. So, get in early, and get out before the risk goes up at all. Besides, the snow stays nice and firm which is better for walking on.

Third, the "Why?" Well, I need to get some thinking done. Without really going into details, I need to get over some things, work through some things, and get on with life. (No, I have not joined a 12 step program or anything like that, I just need some alone time in my "crawl space." What better place to do it than watching the sunrise from 14,000 feet.)

Now, I have to say, I am a super happy-go-lucky guy. While I much prefer to journey with a companion, for the experience with another is infinitely better, I have no problem wandering the earth by myself. I've done it most of my life. Not in a selfish sort of way, but sometimes you just have to go about it alone if you want to go at all. If you wait around too long for someone to go with, you may never get to where you want to go. And sometimes waiting is worth it, unless they don't want you to wait. So sure, I roam alone sometimes, but I have never been lonely.

John Greenleaf Whittier once said:

"Of all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these:

It might have been."

It's time for me to wander...so don't worry. I'll be fine. I always am.

RAAM Pre-Race

Race Across America- 24 Hour Corporate Challenge Team Clif Bar (Click on the link for time updates)

San Diego, CA-

Just a quick update. After months of preparations and hours of safety inspections, we are about to light this candle...We start tomorrow at 9:00am. We have decided to have Eric Walle, my cohort in crime at work lead it off for the 7 mile (neutral) Parade followed by a flat 8 mile section where he will undoubtedly throw down. I will then take over for the first of many hills here in the mountainous North San Diego County. My section will comprise of a 3 mile climb where hopefully, we will take over the lead, say goodbye to our competition and settle into just going as fast as possible...for the next 20+ hours.

It is official: bike racers are complete geeks. While attending the rules meeting this afternoon, the organizers called all of the solo competitors on stage. These are CRAZY people in their own right. They will be sitting and sweating it out for 9+ days on end NON-STOP. To top it off, one of them showed up to dinner, wearing his chamois. (You'd think he will be getting enough time in them in the days to come) There is another report that one team will be wearing time trial helmets (you know, the ones with the big fairing that make you look like a conehead). I promise to get some snapshots of all the geeks and post as soon as I can...but we will be riding through Nowhere, Arizona so I can't promise when. Thankfully we have a great support crew from Clif Bar helping us every inch of the way keeping us fed and hydrated. More to come soon...

Enjoy the ride...

Pat Bush 2.0

Yup...I can't believe it either. I am actually posting a blog. To put it mildly...I have been relaxing and enjoying the P.L.T. (Pro Leisure Tour). I am racing again...sort of. Aside from the occasional "Off The Couch" cameo appearance on the local crit scene, I am joining my co-workers in a couple of weeks to race in the Race Across America 24 Hour Corporate Challenge on June 10-11. As you can see in my profile, I am taking it seriously. Don't tell anyone from the Two Ring Circus, but I had to put Aero-bars on my road bike for this one.

Since December, I have been up to a lot...but not on the bike so much. My energy has been focused on another fight, another race and ultimately another journey...that was coming to an abrupt end. Since September, my step mother was battling her third bout with cancer, and it finally won in the middle of December. That was a life altering experience for me. It reminded me how short life is, and how important your family and friends are. Every day, every minute, every second and every breath count. I literally sat and watched life pass and the lasting effects it not only had on me, but those that are dear to her, especially my dad. The thing is, it will happen, and when it does, what will it all sum up to? Say it happens tomorrow. Will you be clear with your closest friends and family as to how much you loved them?

Since I broke my back at the ripe age of 21, I have always thought about how I have appreciated life, in my own terms. I have been really good at ensuring that my time is spent doing the things that are important to me with the people that are important to me, but not really as it pertains to others.

As I sat and watched my dad say goodbye to his wife, my stepmother of 17 years, I realized how final it was. This was IT. My experience with her was ending right here and now. The big questions come to the forefront. Did she know that I loved her and appreciated her? Did she know that no matter what, I was going to take care of my dad for her and that she should not worry about him? Did she know that I will forever be grateful for being a positive part of my life?

For the most part, I know she knew the answers to those questions because I made sure in the past that she was aware of it. But what if she didn't understand? Or what if she was not quite sure? Or if I was not really that good at conveying how I truly felt? I can tell you this...I promised myself later that day, that nobody significant in my life would ever doubt how I felt about them or the positive impact they have made on my life.

So that's what has been going on, in a nutshell...in my nutshell.

Semi-retirement has allowed me to not live like a Buddhist monk anymore and actually have a social life. I skied my ass off this winter both alpine and Nordic, caught up with old friends, and made some great new ones. I am simply doing everything that I enjoy doing, including doing NOTHING whenever I feel like it. I promised myself to not over schedule myself to oblivion for a while. As it was in the past, I could tell you exactly what I would be doing on any given day down to the minute for the next nine months. And now...well, whatever...I like sleeping in on Sunday mornings when I get the chance.

I AM enjoying the bike, and all of the roads and trails it allows me to experience as well as the people that I can ride with along the way. With RAAM coming up, I am sure there will be some Blogs pertaining to the antics involved with 6 guys, riding bikes, FAST, for 24 hours from San Diego to Flagstaff. You can be sure, there will be pictures and stories coming from this one...

Working at Clif Bar is better than ever. I LOVE my job, the people I work with, and the positive impact we have on this earth. To put it lightly, we have fun, and we work hard. There are plenty of other GREAT things to share, but I shall save them for another time.

Till then, Enjoy the Ride.

Oh yeah, I was told that if I mentioned Paris Hilton, more people would read my Blog. So there you go, I did it...for whatever it means...

Happy Holidays

Every year on Christmas night our family reads a story after dinner. Usually it is the same story, the "Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry, so I thought I would share it with you. Click Here to read it.

Happy Holidays to everyone.

Waffle Wednesday

Working for a food company has really brought out the "International Waffler" in me. So much so that it has worn off on my co-workers. I work in the Sports Retail sales group. Our group has taken it upon themselves to really represent the heart an soul of the company. In the past, we have done such things as "liberate" the company Foosball table from the finance department. Well, this week we started a new tradition, Waffle Wednesday. Our goals were rather simple. Eat some waffles. Oh, and how could I forget...the main topping was Nutella. We had a brief planning meeting on Monday where we decided on who was bringing what and then we just did it. Normally in similar events one would send out an all office e-mail. One of our (SR's) pet peeves is the all office e-mail banter. We were going to rely solely on word of mouth advertising as a sort of social experiment. Our theory was the people that would be up for waffles would somehow find out about it anyway. In the end, we ended up serving over 75 waffles..."great success." For the last two days, all anybody asked me was when was the next Waffle Wednesday. We did not want to set ourselves up for failure, so we gave ourselves plenty of time. It is going to be a regular occurrence, "Every third Wednesday in December, every four years. Rain cancels." I am sure that we will come up with some sneak attack sooner than that, but the bar has been set high, so we must ensure we outdo ourselves next time, hopefully sooner than the next planned "Waffle Wednesday."

More on the Waffle Wednesday can be found at the Clif Bar Blah Blah Blog

Enjoy the Waffle...

Friday Meeting

So I was in our year end meetings for two days last week at Clif Bar. In the building we have an intimate little auditorium that we use for a variety of events aside from our usual Thursday morning employee meeting. I have seen bands play there, film premieres and the launch of a group that is very dear to me The Tyler Hamilton Foundation. But Friday I never expected to see one particular individual whom I will reveal momentarily.

So keep in mind, it is the second day of highly entertaining meetings. We have an extremely brilliant and talented group of employees. So the presentations with seemingly boring topics are not only entertaining, but captivating. The previous day, the entire company watched "An Inconvenient Truth" while munching on popcorn. To an outsider, this may sound strange. A company actually urging it's employees to watch a film on company time. But we're different. Our company measures its success on five bottom lines. One of which is our impact on the environment and our progress towards not only becoming a "Carbon Neutral" company, but a "Restorative" company whereby our footprint on the earth is actually negative (we take away more emissions than we put in).

So on Friday, while watching another short DVD presentation, the DVD player skipped. All 180 of us sat waiting to resume the presentation, feeling a bit awkward for the people working the soundboard. They start playing some music (Queen none the less), pretty loud, and all of a sudden, BOOM, the stage lights come on and Al Gore is standing ten feet in front of me.

Needless to say, we were all in SHOCK and AWE (the good kind). He went on to speak for almost two and a half hours on all sorts of issues including a hefty Q & A session. Here is the press release from Clif Bar...


"Al Gore Delivers Surprise Speech at Clif Bar & Co.
Former VP’s Global Warming Message Coincides With Unveiling of
Nation’s First Employee Commute Incentive Program
to Reward Biodiesel Car Buyers

BERKELEY, Calif., Dec. 8, 2006 — Clif Bar & Co. received a surprise visit today from former Vice President Al Gore, whose inspiring talk about global warming coincided with the launch of the eco-focused food company’s groundbreaking Cool Commute program. Cool Commute is the nation’s first incentive program to pay cash to employees who purchase clean-burning biodiesel cars. It also helps them buy high-mileage hybrids and offers a variety of rewards to those who leave their cars at home altogether.

Gore drew resounding applause from the 180 people at Clif Bar’s annual meeting as he challenged the company to continue its efforts to reduce its impact on global warming. “There is a hunger in the business community for practical solutions on how to put environmental goals into action,” said Gore, whose film documentary, “An Inconvenient Truth, presents a powerful case for addressing global warming. “Companies are searching for pioneers that are examples of positive change.”

Clif Bar is a nationally-recognized leader in the fight against global warming—Gore’s top priority as an environmental advocate. Clif Bar’s new Cool Commute program helps tackle global warming at a personal level by paying $5,000 to employees who switch to biodiesel (B100) cars for their commutes. In addition to a cash incentive for biodiesel, Clif Bar also will pay $5,000 to its people who buy a fuel-friendly hybrid vehicle.

Along with incentives for driving more fuel-efficient cars, the Cool Commute program awards points to Clif Bar people who carpool or leave their cars at home and opt instead to walk, bike or take public transportation to work. Points can be redeemed for tax-free public transit vouchers or gift cards from Whole Foods Market, Peet’s Coffee and other local green businesses. Points can also be used to support environmental groups such as American Forests, Clean Air-Cool Planet and NativeEnergy.

“We found that collectively the folks at our company consumed about 29,500 gallons of gasoline commuting more than 700,000 miles to and from work in 2005,” said Elysa Hammond, Clif Bar’s staff ecologist and co-developer of the Cool Commute effort. “By encouraging our people to rely less on fossil fuels in their commutes, we can make a difference as a business when it comes to arguably the single biggest issue facing us all—global warming.”

“Our company measures its success not only on how well we sustain the business, but on how well we help sustain the planet,” said Clif Bar CEO Sheryl O’Loughlin, who sought out Gore for the company’s annual meeting. “We truly believe you can operate a thriving business that treads lightly on our environment.”

“Clif Bar is constantly looking for ways to reduce our ecological footprint,” said founder and owner Gary Erickson. “We’re using as many organic ingredients as possible, reducing waste in our packaging, ‘greening’ our office space and offsetting our climate impact by helping build wind farms and planting trees. There’s a lot more we can do—and we’re committed to that journey over the long haul.”

Gore encouraged other businesses to also think beyond quarterly earnings and consider the long term value of environmental stewardship. He said most businesses now “treat the environment as an externality,” which results in decisions that “ignore or are actively harmful to the planet.”

Cool Commute is the first phase of a larger Clif Bar initiative that will eventually help employees address their environmental impact at home as well as at work, according to Jennifer Freitas, the company’s wellness advocate and co-developer with Hammond of the Cool Commute program.

Clif Bar & Co. is a leading maker of all-natural and organic energy and nutrition foods and drinks, including the organic certified CLIF® BAR energy bar delivering nutrition for sustained energy; LUNA®, The Whole Nutrition Bar for Women®; Clif NectarÔ, the organic fruit and nut bar; and CLiF® ZBaRÔ, the energy bar that nourishes kids in motion. Committed to sustainability, Clif Bar & Co. works continuously to reduce its footprint on the planet from the field to the final product. " Thanks to Paul McKenzie for the great Photos.

So, if you are wondering how I am "settling" into my new life as a former pro cyclist...I'd say it's going pretty well so far. I do miss some of the epic rain rides this time of year...just a bit, but I don't miss HAVING to do it day in and day out.

Ride a bike. It's good for you, and it's good for us.
Enjoy the ride.

Fresh Tracks

Tahoe Rim Trail 10.28

For most of my comrades, this is the silly season. The time where the off season has come to a close, and it is time to get back to work. Last year, I already had a full month of base training under my belt. That meant a full month of riding 3-6 hours a day, six days a week. It is quite a treat to ride for that period of time and never have to ride hard...in fact it was discouraged. This is where the races are truly won...in the off season. The hard work starts now. Aspirations meet opportunity, and the only possibly way for the two to co-exist is through honest to goodness W-O-R-K.

I am missing the excitement of it all to some degree. To be out on the bike for ENDLESS hours, racking up some serious miles gives one a sense of satisfaction and achievement. Not to mention the clarity of mind. With the weather being as nice as it usually is in November in Northern California...it becomes almost infectious. Just when you start to get some confidence under your belt, SMACK in the face, the weather hits you. And from there on out, only the committed continue and hence, the cream will rise to the top.

Yesterday was one of those first "Test" days where the temperature drops below freezing in the pre-dawn hours. As I walked out my door to head to work , scraping the frost off my windshield, I couldn't help but offer up a moment of silence for those of you that were out doing what I used to do every morning, rain or shine...ride it out. While I was perfectly happy and comfortable in my down puffy coat and beanie, I couldn't help buy feel just a little jealous that I wasn't out suffering, building something for the summer.

Pinecrest Peak 11.04

For my comrades, yesterday was the first in a series of tests that will determine the results of some race in the middle of some unknown cattle ranch, on some pothole riddled road, in the middle of the summer, worlds away from today. Were you ridin'...or were you hidin'? Only "you" will truly know, and you only have you to blame one way or the other when the results will be revealed this summer.

I, on the other hand, don't feel the pressure to be out there. I did it, I enjoyed it, and now, I am on to something else. I don't feel the need to be out there and "train", I have found solace in simply riding, regardless of the weather. In fact, I would say I have probably logged more miles on my mountain bike in the past month than I have all last season. The more interesting thing is, I have done predominantly all of those miles in the Sierras, primarily in Tahoe. I have been up there virtually every weekend for the past two months. I can't seem to get enough of that place. I am fortunate enough to have a great group of friends that live there, and are always open to having me come up for the weekend.

Pinecrest Peak 11.04

Back in the day, I was on the road so much in the fall, I never really got to experience the changing of the season in Tahoe. My friends from back East would contest that the change out here pales in comparison, as I would agree, but it is stunning, none the less. This year, I have been really fortunate to watch Tahoe morph from a summer sanctuary into the winter wonderland that it is known for. I have been there to experience the cold nights and warm days of Octoberfest change to sub-freezing nights and cold days of Thanksgiving.

Tahoe 11.11

On my last trip over Thanksgiving, I was feeling like the ride I was on was almost like cheating Mother Nature in a way as there was a significant bit of snow on the ground and I was still riding my bike. The trail was almost unrecognizable at times, yet never unrideable. The downhills were like powder skiing as the snow flew from the sidewall of the tires as I carved the turns that the trail dictated. Freedom never felt so good.

Tahoe 11.25

The shadows told the story of a bike ride mimicking a ski run. A giant grin was plastered on my face as I started to remember why I loved skiing so much. I can't wait to get back to the other things I love...like skiing. I felt bad for everyone that was at home, waiting for the "Big Dump" to happen so that they could finally make their fresh tracks. I was already getting mine.

Tahoe 11.25

Next weekend, it's the real thing. No horsing around on bikes...just skiing. No joke, I'm back.

Squaw 11.26

See you up there...

Enjoy...

And Now for Something Completely Different...

Whew, that last post was a bit heavy. It has been brewing in my head for a while. I told you I had been doing a lot of thinking.

Anyway, I have been thinking about getting a new TV. The one I have works pretty well, but some of these new HD TVs are AWESOME. The clarity is by far superior. I am not much of a TV watcher, but now and again I go through these phases. Right now, with all of this free time, it has been top of the mind.

I am thinking flat screen, plasma, HD...the works, but I don't want to spend thousands of dollars on it so I have come up with a SWEET solution...

I just hope my landloard doesn't mind the mess.

On second thought...I will just stick with what Ive got. My place is too small for something like this.

There Goes My Hero

“It's not who you are that holds you back, it's who you think you're not.” ~Author Unknown

Back then…1994…I was not afraid of who I was, I was afraid of who I wasn’t. I was really afraid of the unknown. I mean, at age 23, who wouldn’t be. I was fresh out of college. I had the luxury of a great job right out of school, but in my mind I was going down the path of least resistance, not the path to me that ultimately would be sustainable. A lot of my friends really struggled to find “the” job out of college at the time. I was lucky. I was recruited to the dream job, a ski rep. I eagerly took the job. I mean, who wouldn’t. I had a van full of skis, a salary, benefits and a sick expense account. My alternatives were to return home and work at Ski Shop Santa Cruz, or stay in Santa Barbara and continue working at Mountain Air. Both of which I loved, but it was time for me to branch out. I took the job.

Life was great. I was living a fairytale of sorts. I worked hard. I was in my element, and I loved it. Yet, in the back of my mind, I knew I was not living to my potential, just what came easy to me.
After not even a year, I was promoted to the craziest job in so many ways. Looking back, I still can’t believe what I did, where I went, the people I met, and I actually got paid for it. I was traveling the globe, working on skis and boots for some of the greatest skiers (my heroes) in the world at some of the greatest ski places on earth. I was always on the road…and never the same place twice. Life was in fast forward, and I knew I was like a surfer just trying to hang onto the wave as long as I could…at almost any cost. Life was easy, I worked hard and I was good at what I did.

Over a brief break at home in Squaw Valley for New Years, I met this woman that would forever alter my life. I had no idea what it all meant at the time, and I still don’t to this day. We dated for a while and even went on a vacation to Cabo together. In the end, we broke up the next summer. During our relationship, I began to get this uneasy feeling. She was looking for what I thought was a fairytale. Something so unrealistic to my reality that I passed it off as such, unrealistic. At the same time, I took note because not understanding her really bothered me. I knew that I was having a hard time understanding what she was about. She just graduated from college as well. She moved to Tahoe to live the dream of skiing in California, and maybe find a job. But what she really dreamed about was writing. Writing, skiing and me. That’s what she wanted. Her supposed fairytale.

Yup…she, a writer, and I, a corporate ladder monkey. In my mind, while we both loved to ski, her dreams were noble yet unfounded. I wanted measurable success, and she wanted an immeasurable fantasy. She wanted the fairytale. We wanted complete opposites, or so I thought. I was bothered by such discrepancy, and I took note despite my lack of understanding and appreciation. We were in love despite our differences (at least I was), which made breaking up hard. I was promoted yet again and had to move to Southern California so I broke up with her. It was one of the hardest things I had to do to this day, yet, it seemed so logical at the time. Two different dreams, and two different places. Simple math. I still remember how hard I cried the day she drove back to the East coast. I called Seth, and all I could mutter was, “She’s gone. She’s really gone.”

The biggest thing that bothered me was how much I felt for her but how little I understood and appreciated her and what she wanted in life. I mean, really. Who could shun reality and go after their dreams? Who could set aside all convention, pay no attention to the naysayer, and actually go after what makes one happy? And how could you really justify doing what you truly love if it was not measurable in the eyes of others let alone your bank account? Who REALLY lives their dreams????? Yet, underneath it all, deep down, I understood it, I even envied it, yet I just could not logically quantify or justify it in any certain terms. Ironically, it sounds familiar to me now...

Well, it was that episode that shaped my adult life. I was so bothered by how I let somebody whom I loved go, how I moved away from a place that I loved and how easy it was to let go of who I am that to this day it haunts me. I knew I was doing something terribly wrong, but I sided on the path of least resistance. The day I drove a moving van out of Squaw Valley and pointed it towards Long Beach, effectively ending my relationship, I knew something was fundamentally wrong with me. I was on the wrong road…and I knew it. But…hey…when you get to a junction in the road…take it…right? Little could I know that this was exactly the path I would take to find myself...

A few years went by, and got progressively worse as I got farther from who I was and closer to a person who I loathed. One day, things started to fall back into place. Inspired by the person whose dreams and desires I could not understand at the time and ran away from, I let go of who I thought I should be, and started to grasp who I am, and who I dream to be. I took to heart what I could not allow myself to be, yet inherently am, a dreamer. I decided to do what was right for me, not necessarily easy to do. I took the path less traveled for once. I realized that in order to survive, and to be a happy and complete soul, I needed to live my dream no matter how different it may be from conventional wisdom. No regrets, no guilt and most of all, on my terms. The first steps back were excruciating, but necessary.

My ride back to who I am has been the greatest journey (read all of my past entries). I have many people to thank for allowing me to live my dream. Without the support of so many, I would never have achieved such mediocre success. Seriously, the friendships that I have forged and survived through the past years have meant the world to me. I am here today thanks to all of you. Sadly, the one person I have to thank the most for inspiring my journey has left me in the past out of self preservation and cannot believe the person I have become, the dreamer. I guess the tables have turned. I am the dreamer and she the logical, cynical doubter. Serves me right I guess…

Today, watching one family member slowly forget life as it rapidly slips away, while another frantically fights for life reminds me…life gets shorter everyday, and I cannot go another moment without telling you this, though you probably won’t hear me…

I adore you for daring to dream. I admire your courage to live in the direction of those dreams. I am forever thankful for your inspiration. Now I understand.

Enjoy your ride…Happy Thanksgiving

Epiphany Ride: Europe

Col du Petit St. Bernard (FRA)

It's been a while...I know. Believe me...I know. I appreciate all of the "where's the update?" mail. I have missed writing, it's just...well...I needed a break to get my shit in gear and time to think about the meaning of what I was doing. It is quite emotional to end a career, even if it is on a high note. But all is good.

I have not really had a chance to actually sit down and just breathe for quite a while. I got scared the other morning as my alarm went off. I actually woke up in this weird place that I sort of recognized...my own bed. It's true. I had a hard time remembering where I was. I have really not been around since I left for Mt Washington Hill Climb back in August. I was home for a couple of days then it was off to Worlds in Canada. After that I was home for a couple of days then it was off to Europe for a couple of weeks. Upon my return (of one day) I boarded yet another plane and went to work at Interbike in Vegas for the week. I finally got home ...and decided that I couldn't stay at home. I needed to get away from the pending pile of duffels and bikes that sit piled in my living room, so I left for the weekend. I needed it. I managed to sit by a lake, without my bike and just breathe. It probably sounds weird, but you should try it sometime. It feels great.
Since then, I have done a lot of reassembly to the other parts of my life. When you spend as much time on the bike as I did, a lot of things get pushed aside. So now I am in the process of doing all of those things I set aside reluctantly or not. Lately, I have reunited with friends and family, managed to get in some epic riding in the Sierras before the winter sets in, and worked on my new career at Clif Bar. Many of you have asked me if I have had a problem settling in to my new job and my new life. Do I miss what I was? The simple answer is no. It was time. I was ready to give it my all and then be satisfied with the results. I loved EVERY second of my time training and racing. There was not a pedal stroke that went by that I did not appreciate. But as the saying goes, "Life goes on." I still love riding my bike, and that is the way I always want it to be. But I love a lot of other things too.
My travels have given me so much perspective on life, and it is the bike that has provided me with these opportunities. To sum up what I have seen and learned would nearly impossible.
I will provide stories and pictures as time warrants, but for now let me just share a defining moment...
As a ride leader on MS Global, I was able to share in many personal victories as we rode around Mont Blanc in September. The third day of MS Global, the skies opened up. Rain and wind with the possibility of snow were the forecast. We were to climb the highest and longest pass of the entire trip, Le Grand St. Bernard from Switzerland to Italy. The last 15k was some of the toughest stretch of road I have seen on a bike.
I rode with a strong group of riders, of which a few had MS. For one person in particular, it was her first time riding in Europe. She had no idea what was in store for her coming from Houston where the highest point there is the pitchers mound in the Superdome. We were riding over the shoulder of Mont Blanc. No easy feat even for a seasoned rider like myself. She had it in their mind that she was going to conquer the climb of the day no matter what. With me riding in support…every pedal stroke of the way offering words of encouragement, I caught a glimpse of a Serono rider ahead. It was at that moment that I had an epiphany. In front of me was a Serono Rider. Without Serono and the MS drugs they produce many individuals with MS would not be able to ride a bike, go for a hike or just maintain a quality of life. Right behind me was one of the fundraising cyclists. Without fundraising efforts of the cyclists MS research would not be funded. On my left side was the van with the staff. Without the Tyler Hamilton Foundation and the staff we would not all have come together. And on my right was an individual with MS, determined to reach the top. We all need each other, one depending on the other. MS Global is about community, working together in the fights against MS.
I highly recommend doing something like the MS Global. It is a life altering experience in which you will not only challenge yourself physically, but you will enrich the lives of many in the process.

More to come soon, I promise. For now...

Enjoy the ride.

A Whole New World

Long time since I posted....I know, but I have been busy. Europe, Vegas, Tahoe, Pinecrest, Marin, Tahoe....Just because I have retired does not mean I have stopped riding. It just means I can ride wherever I want, whenever I want, however I want...or not at all.
I am off on yet another adventure this weekend; My cabin, to grab one more high Sierra mountain bike weekend before the snows hits. This time with the hooligans that got me into 24 Hour racing way back in the day. (I can say that now...right?)
Upon my return, I will start posting again. I am ready. I have lot's to share. I've been doing a lot of thinking.

Till then, Enjoy the Ride!

Soxxxxx

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"Flip Flops"

I am pretty much an "add water and stir" kind of guy. I can drop into just about any situation and find my bearings pretty quickly. In order to be successful at bike racing at the elite level (or anything for that matter) you have to not only accept adversity, but thrive in it. It is just part of the game. Some people manage it by planning for it, yet get totally tripped up when something unexpected happens. Others just fly by the seat of their pants, and somehow pull it off, but other times crash and burn.

Me, I am a little of both I guess. I am certainly prepared for things when the wheels fall off the cart. After a lifetime of competing at different levels, in different sports around the world...I have seen a thing or two. I have had to deal with a lot of "deal breakers" turning them into opportunities. I think this comes from my parents. The taught me long ago how to be well prepared for not only success, but failure. And when amongst seemingly sure failure how to remain calm and collected for that is the only way to see a way out. Some things you just can't control...just accept it.

Worlds was no exception. I was sick going into the race. My bike nearly started retirement without me first by breaking a rare frame only weeks before in Napa, then by missing the flight up to BC. To say the least, I had the cards stacked against me. But over the years I have learned one simple rule: to persevere despite how things seem. So many victories and successes come to those who continue trying when others have give up and gone home. Whether it be in sport or life...that rule applies.

I went to win. I was going to do everything I could to make that happen, but more importantly to follow my own defining principal: Above all else, Enjoy the ride. It became clear to me early on in the race that because of factors out of my control, I was not going to win the race, but that was not going to stop me from having the ride of my life.

After three of the four laps and watching my first lap lead fade all the way to 8th, I was determined to ride it out and finish the race with everything I had, one final time despite what place I was in. Going into the final lap, I welled up with emotion. What started out as a hobby, then became a passion, then became a rare opportunity to live out a dream was ending. And end it did. Nothing like finishing a great journey with a yell out loud and a huge infectious smile. You would have thought crossing the line I just won World Championships not come in fourth like I had. But to me, that did not matter. It was my own personal, well deserved celebration for merely being alive.

The thing about living a dream is you never really forget it, but you can ruin it if you try to hard to hold onto it. For the rest of my life, I will never have to look over my shoulder and wonder "What If?" because I had the courage to try...and that has made all the difference.

What's next? Oh the list is long...and it includes plenty of time on my favorite beach with nothing but boardshorts, "Flip-Flops," a towel and a few pesos and maybe a friend...

But first, I am off to Europe to ride in the Alps with Tyler and friends to raise some money to help fight Multiple sclerosis. Please help me help the cause... www.active.com/donate/msglobal2006/patbush

Worlds

4th place...and top american...
Details to follow (when I'm not on my cell phone).

Sent from the Treo 650 of:
Patrick Bush
415.847.0370
http://patrickbush.blogspot.com