Day: March 23, 2024

Mo’s finally back from her globetrotting gig, and guess what? It’s show-and-tell time, people! She’s unloaded her digital trove, and nestled among the pixels is this dazzling snapshot of Tanque Verde Falls. If you’ve never had the pleasure, picture a slice of desert paradise that’s so stunning, you’d swear it was a Hollywood set piece, complete with a waterfall that defies every expectation of what ‘picturesque’ should look like. Yes, folks, it’s the real deal.

The shot Mo snagged captures the waterfall’s dramatic plunge down the rugged cliffs, all set against a backdrop that yells, “Grab your adventure hat!” It’s cradled by a cozy canyon, flanked by towering, almost hug-like rocky walls on both sides. Down below, there’s a swimming hole that invites you with a cheeky wink—just be ready for water that’s got a bit more personality, thanks to its mineral content.

But the real scene-stealers? The boulders. They have this vibe that makes you go, “That’s it. Packing my bags to start my new life as a rock.” And let’s not skim over the greenery. It’s a masterclass in toughing it out, with plants that somehow flourish under a sun that doesn’t know how to play it cool.

Here we are, sipping on our morning coffee, and Mo’s pics whisk us from the comfort of our duvet fortress all the way to the untamed heart of Coronado National Forest near Tucson, Arizona. It’s a nudge, a gentle reminder of the vast, untapped adventures that lie in wait. Sure, today’s a bust health-wise, but hey, the falls aren’t running off, and our thirst for adventure sure isn’t drying up. For now, we’ll hitch a ride on Mo’s wild escapades and start scheming our own.

So I was at the Cape Mears lighthouse the other day, and I had to take a picture. I was standing right next to it and I noticed something – the lighthouse was really short! So I said, “Wait a minute, this lighthouse is tiny! What kind of lighthouse is this?!”

Then I noticed the sign on the side – “Cape Mears Miniature Lighthouse.”

Mo laughs.

“Well, if this is a miniature lighthouse, what would a full-sized one look like?”, I asked the lighthouse keeper – and he just shrugged and said, “I don‘t know, we‘ve never seen one.”

The morning discussion included proposals to relocate to other places to ski, a hiking option, and a personal favorite, to just sit around drinking beer. My partner and I were locking horns over the latter two when the other parties involved just gave up and went with option 1. Then we were alone and lagging behind. The usual.

My mind kept drifting back to the view of Sphinx Mountain from the night before.

“I want to go back up the canyon and see if we can not ski up the trail that branches to the right”, I blurted out suddenly.

“OK ….ok, damn Bill that is what I said”.

Oh shoot, I wish I listened better.

And we were off. And we did not find any more snow. There was just enough for me to go off on a side trip and scrape the p-tex off the bottom of my skis when I raked over a rock outcropping. By the time I got back to the valley the sun was setting. I should of listened better, to the warnings from my partner that, “… if your into climbing over downed trees”.

My partner was no where to be found. We were supposed to meet in the open meadow. To pass the time I got off a couple shots of Sphinx and Helmet. I started to wonder if I had the facts of our previous conversation right. Meet in the meadow where the trail forked. Gosh, I sure wish I listened more.

Then she appeared and just like that I forgot the promises to myself to listen better.

Heck my listening is just fine.

It amazes me how we as humans and some more than others tend to analyse life to the point that it becomes unrecognizable. I mean look at the mountains. As soon as you pull them apart and classify its elements. Grey rocks built upon some magical fairy dust with this much oxygen per cubic measure-o-meter. Blah blah. Holy fuck folks.

No! It is simply beautiful. If we can just stop thinking about it and just take it in. Just allow the beauty to talk to us. And allow the wind to whisper to us.  Maybe we are not as grand, us humans, as we think we are. Maybe we don’t know a freaking thing.

The mountains maybe know more. Nature is there to be experienced and tested.  Not analyzed   So the next time you feel like you are analyzing your situation just freaking stop. Go to the Mountains and see what they says.

So, it’s been another one of those cold, wet days that make you wonder if the sun’s taken a personal day off. This morning, I poked my head out, thinking maybe I’d find some greens to munch on. My spot, just a stone’s throw east of Carriage Way in Missoula, Montana, is something out of a storybook. I’ve got this quaint little porch pad that gives me a front-row seat to the world through a massive window. There’s something almost magical about lounging in the tall grass come evening, watching a couple get lost in the latest SOA episode on their laptop. Ah, to live a day in my yard.

Oh, by the way, the name’s Peter. And before you even go there, no, I’ve got zero ties to that celebrity bunny with a penchant for trouble. My days? Well, they’re dedicated to guarding the Templar Tu Yer, a sacred temple that’s pretty much my life. And it’s not just any life—it’s a fantastic one in this yard.

To keep the temple looking sharp, I’ve enlisted a dynamic duo: Chad and Hank, the chipmunk brothers. Around these parts, chipmunks aren’t just your garden variety—they’re bona fide munks. Chad’s the one who makes sure our grounds could grace the cover of “Better Homes & Gardens,” while Hank… well, let’s just say he’s not your average chipmunk. Tipping the scales at 200 pounds, he’s the best friend you could ask for—unless you’re a black bear looking for trouble. Last year, I witnessed him give one such unwelcome visitor a lesson in humility. Thanks to him, our yard remains a peaceful haven.

Truly, life is a gem here, surrounded by our precious temples and tall grass, with the bonus of having human dramas unfold right before our eyes through the big window. I’m already wondering what tonight’s show will be.

Shifting gears to a different slice of my life, it was like deja vu all over again today. Our rendezvous was classic—same place, same “hey, how’s it going?” followed by the grueling trek up the “gut” of the trail. Nothing had changed. Or so it seemed.

Perched between Sentinel and University Mountain, the air buzzed with the collective excitement of my crew. The onset of a new season of Thursday Night Rides was like a balm, almost as if we’d time-traveled back to the good ol’ days. Being reunited with everyone was a gentle reminder of how sweet life can be, echoing the same sentiment I cherish daily in my own backyard. Here’s to more such moments, both in the wild and the comfort of home.

I’ve been experimenting with something new lately: minimal stimulus. For the past month, I’ve ditched TV, radio, internet at home (didn’t have it anyway), and even cut out coffee, sugar, and other stimulating substances. The catalyst for this change was a day I came home from work, mentally frazzled to the core, and realized I was constantly being bombarded with stimuli. Overloaded, overcooked, and undeniably manipulated, I decided to switch off everything and picked up a book instead. For leisure, I’ve been allowing myself to just sit and feel my feelings. I don’t try to dissect them; I simply observe them as they drift by.

Today’s photo ties in with what I’ve been up to. I captured it during a ride, a breath of fresh air after spending a whole day rebuilding forks. At the end of my block, I bumped into my friend Ed. It felt like we had telepathically agreed to meet for this ride. We cycled the MoZ, sharing thoughts on life and happiness. Then, we soaked up the Montana scenery, which felt like watching a movie unfold.

Hey everyone! Huge shoutout to my parents, Team Buckeys, on their 36th anniversary! 🎉 Sending all my love.

This takes me back to a tough race day at Mount Snow, Vermont. I was dead last, totally beat. But then, my folks arrive, cheering as if I’d just struck gold! Despite my flop, they saw me as a winner just for being me.

That’s my parents – they focus on love, not mistakes. Their 36th anniversary reminds me how amazing their support is.

Cheers to Mom and Dad, the heart of Team Buckeys! They taught me real winning is about who’s with you at the finish line, not just crossing it first. Happy Anniversary! 🥂

To my racing buddies, remember: In our loved ones’ eyes, we’re always winners. Keep racing and loving!

So, yesterday marked the debut of the season’s racing shenanigans, and it took us to the scenic roads of Clinton, MT. Now, our dear Mr. Jedzilla decided it would be a brilliant idea to toss me into the ‘A’ group. You can imagine me there, sweating bullets, paranoid about either stepping on the toes of the ‘big boy’ peloton or, heaven forbid, causing a spectacular tumble. The main mission? To clock in a 30-minute time trial. Why? Oh, just a tiny quest for my anaerobic threshold data – no biggie. And would you believe it? The stars aligned, and I hit an AT of 172! How’s that for sweet?

As for today’s agenda, it’s looking like a 1.5-hour joyride to shake off the cobwebs and get the legs spinning – Bearmouth is calling, and hopefully, it’s not a solo adventure. Oh, and get this: I might just be inching closer to the team life. Team NRO threw a line my way, hinting at a spot on their roster. So, what’s the moral of the story? Keep those pedals turning, and who knows where the road might take you. Ride hard, folks!

Marcy’s spirit of relishing every adventure truly sets her apart. She doesn’t merely cross the stream; she leaps energetically into its deepest parts and joyously bounces through. The sheer amount of energy this little dog exhibits is unmatched by any human. Outdoors, she’s an absolute whirlwind of excitement.

This morning, running late for work gave me the perfect excuse to pedal my bike faster than usual. In the woods, I channel my inner Marcy on my bike. However, as I rounded a corner, my gracefulness fell short of Marcy’s expertise in navigating terrain at high speeds.

It had snowed earlier, and the wind was so fierce it felt like being in a wind tunnel. The temperature was bitterly cold, the kind that hinted at black ice hiding around every turn. Approaching a traffic light that started to turn yellow, I thought, “Hey, I’ll just zip around this corner and keep going… that way, I don’t have to stop.” So, I dove into the turn – and straight onto the black ice.

I hit the ground, performing the classic road bike slide. Quickly, I got up, gathered my bike, and continued on. As I rode, I adjusted my rear fender and assessed the situation. My bike seemed fine, but I was left pondering over a sharp pain in my elbow.

At work, I noticed the damage to my ROAR jacket and braced myself for what I’d find underneath. Sure enough, there was a significant patch of skin missing. My knee also ached, but I was more concerned yet relieved that my only pair of jeans had survived unscathed. Jeans truly are unbeatable. Had I been wearing my cotton pants, I’d be sitting here with a hole in them.

This morning, I woke up feeling like a mix of tired, under the weather, and, let’s just say, not in peak physical form. I got an email from a pal who used to clock in at Sikorsky. Turns out, Doug was a piece of work to her too, treating her pretty much like I’m getting treated now. It’s tough not to take what he said yesterday to heart. I still feel down in the dumps. How did I go from being a mountain bike champ and local hero to feeling like yesterday’s garbage in the eyes of a whole corporation? Beats me.

Honestly, I’m not even sweating the small stuff like raises or the threat of getting canned anymore. It’s the words that were said, and the sting of betrayal from someone I thought had my back, that really cut deep. But hey, there’s a silver lining—I’m actually getting pumped about the idea of moving back to Montana. The more I think about it, the more places like Billings or even Roundup start to sound like home. It’s time to confront the ghosts I left behind, to ditch the fair-weather friends and the endless chase for their approval.

More Bad News Hits Sikorsky

“Touchdown Sikorsky, and guess what? More bad news than a Kardashian reality show marathon. Turns out, the presidential chopper project’s taking a detour to next year’s election cycle. Sounds like someone’s worried about optics, am I right? So, what does this mean for your friendly neighborhood employee? Buckle up, buttercup, ’cause it means layoffs are about as imminent as a Kardashian meltdown” ~unknown

Now, don’t get it twisted, I was already plotting my grand exit. A part of me, the one that’s eternally wearing rose-colored glasses, was kinda holding out for a moment of glory, a chance to prove the naysayers wrong. Maybe even a “reassignment” over a “don’t let the door hit ya.” But you know what? The mountains of Montana are calling my name, serenading me with promises of peace and quiet—a siren song that’s music to my ears compared to the latest office drama.