"My [Man] Made the Frame"

Recently, I made a couple picture frames for my wife. Her two-sided pieces needed frames that were decent looking on both sides, and she couldn't find what she wanted in a store. See one of her pieces for this show here (her blog) or here (the Fuller Lodge Art Center). For my part, here are the frames, sanded and ready for paint

and here is one finished with the art in place. Basically, the art and glass slide into the frame through a groove in the bottom.

I built the frames (and some "feet" for a third frame she bought), then chuckled as I thought of this Gary Larson "Far Side" cartoon (which I lifted from "newspaperarchives.com")

and all the other picture frames I've made over the years, and the few I need to finish. No, I'm not going to open a frame shop any time soon, but it's nice to be self-sufficient in this regard. It's fun to create something that is elegant in its own right, but which also accentuates the beauty of something else. I guess that's the essence of the relationship between a picture and its frame, isn't it?

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In other "Art & Music Exchange" news--

I added a new piano student and a new guitar student in the last couple weeks. That brings my grand total up to 5 students. There may be a couple more coming on as well. Woo hoo! I'm planning a recital in May. 

I only have a couple February gigs:
- Feb 8, K2 Women's ski weekend party, Craig Martin Experience, tentative due to lack of snow
- Feb 25, Pajarito Pub & Grill, DK & the Affordables, 8-midnight, $5 cover.

As we get into March, I've got:
- March 8, I'm teaching a fly tying class at Warm Hearts Yarn in White Rock. Consult their blog for details.
- March 15, CME is playing at the Empty Bowls fundraiser for Self-Help, Inc.
- March 21-23 I'm leading a Level-2 Mountain Travel and Rescue class for local ski patrollers. It's been in the works for about 5 years, and it will probably be my last ski patrol "hurrah" for a while. After this class is over, I plan to hand MTR instruction (locally and regionally) over to someone else.

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In the "Random Thoughts" category--

My back has been "out" again. While it feels much better today, and I have kicked the pain killers that have been a staple for the past few days, I still can't bend over to the left without a needle stabbing me in the hip. But it's getting better, and I imagine I'll be pain-free (and back to running) in a week or so. Anyway, this post from Zen Habits really hit home last week, as the author explored happiness in the face of his own misery. It was what I needed to hear. And then last night, at 10 pm, as I was not quite done stretching and contemplating queue-ing up the next episode of Caprica, I remembered this post about not "scratching the itch." So, I finished my stretching to the crackling of the fire in the wood stove, and went straight to bed rather than staying up until 11 numbing my mind with video. Maybe getting enough sleep made a difference in my physical well-being and in my attitude. At any rate, I highly recommend Mr. Babauta's blog, both for its content and simplicity. Mindfulness and thoughtfulness are ideas I've been working on for a several years now, with, as you might expect, mixed results. Still, those ideals are worthy of effort.

Thanks for reading, and have a great week!

Friends in the Great Outdoors

"I've got a good old friend who's seen me at my worst
He can't tell if I'm a blessing our a curse
But he always shows up when the chips are down
That's the kind of stuff I like to be around" -----Guy Clark, "Stuff that Works"
 
First, PRAY FOR SNOW! We are in that typical New Mexico snow-free doldrums of January. Hopefully things will pick up soon and we get our February and March allotment of snow. Otherwise, it's going to be another flammable spring and early summer.

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Next, my gig schedule into March:
--Jan 25, Dixie Girl Restaurant (Craig Martin Experience), ~7-ish
--Feb 8, Blue Window Bistro (Craig Martin Experience), benefit for the K2 Women's Weekend (and breast cancer research)
--Feb 22, Pajarito Pub & Grill (D.K. and the Affordables), 8 pm
--March 15, Betty Ehart Senior Center (Craig Martin Experience), benefit for the Empty Bowls Project

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Finally, this week's musings--

Initially, this post was going to be about outdoor gear and clothing. I have some great stuff that I really like, from the EMS Bergelene long underwear that they'll have to peel off me when I'm dead, to the Marmot Dryclime windshirt that is either in my pack or on my back, to the crocheted wool hats my wife made me, to the Black Diamond "flicklock" adjustable poles. Backpacks, skis, other jackets. the Jetboil stove. Initially, I was going to write about that stuff, but in the end, that's pretty boring, and doesn't speak to the theme of "abundance" that I'd like to explore over the next couple posts.

Always watch out for G.A.S.--Gear Acquisition Syndrome.

I was thinking about gear because I was putting my stuff away last night after a fairly short, but fun, ski tour near Taos Ski Valley with my friend and ski patrol colleague Scott. I'm teaching a ski patrol class in March and we wanted to check out the area where we'll be conducting the class. Of course, we didn't skin in silence. It was great to catch up and discuss the joys and travails of having children, talk about work, and lament how "soft" we've become, which was made even more obvious when we were passed by Sam, one of the local, premier, Los Alamos hardcore mountaineers. Anyway, Scott and I did a few great trips together back in the days before kids, but haven't been backcountry skiing together now for a few years. It was nice to know that an old relationship like that can click back into place. During the past ten years, we've trained together on rescue toboggans and in first aid, spent hours in the car to and from ski patrol education classes and other destinations, and rebuilt avalanche and mountaineering programs at our local ski patrol and regionally. I'm proud of what we've accomplished, both on and off patrol. Off patrol, we managed a somewhat rare descent from the summit of Wheeler Peak together (rare due to the westward, wind-blown face we chose to ski) in 2004, and a few other backcountry days here and there. (Scott's other exploits in Colorado and Northern New Mexico, though, are also noteworthy. Search for him on SummitPost and you'll see what I mean.)

This reflection took me back to other trips and partners. My friend Ryan and I spent a lot of time climbing in Rocky Mountain National Park when we lived in Fort Collins. Routes like Taylor Glacier, the Spiral Route on Notchtop Mountain, and Dream Weaver were our favorites, though we also went to Ouray to ice climb and did a lot of skiing (and driving) in (and to and from) Utah and Colorado. Matt H. was always up for a ski tour, no matter how big or small. He was also a patroller and frequent companion on our ski patrol education trips. Just try and keep up with him. Mike D. is a newer backcountry ski buddy of mine, and we explored some of Cumbres Pass on skis last spring. I'll be calling him again. D.K. is a great band mate, but has also been involved in a few of my adventures, such as taking my second MTR class in 2005, and setting up several trips in the Jemez to ski, fish, or camp. My brother in law, Chris D., also makes this list as he's put up with my slowness on several climbing and skiing trips. Mark W. was my most reliable running buddy, and we did many "lunch laps" together at our local ski area. Regardless of the company I keep on a particular day, it seems like every time I go out and tick something off the top of my list, 5 more things are added to the bottom. I'm thankful to be surrounded by folks who inspire me to take on new challenges.

On the summit of Wheeler Peak with Matt H., showing our brand affiliation. Photo by Scott.

So, while this post started as an account of my favorite gear, it evolved into celebrating good friends. My take isn't necessarily novel, but here it is: what matters to most folks--be they hunters, gatherers, hikers, bikers, climbers, knitters, worshipers, artists, musicians, or skiers--is the fact that they can find a few like-minded souls to congregate and venture out with. I count myself lucky that I have a few old friends that I like and who can stand to be around me. What's more, while we each choose our *insert activity here* buddies based on how well they *insert activity here*, some of the most important and friendship-determining time occurs in the car, on the approach, over lunch, or in the pub afterwards.

Scott, Ryan, Matt B., Matt H., Mike D., D.K., Chris D., Mark W., and others I'm sure I've forgotten: thank you for the turns, tours, and climbs of the past, and here's hoping for many more.

Ryan H. near Mt. Tukunikivats, UT.

Of course, my wife should get special mention here. She holds the ultimate place in my co-adventurer ranking. We've skied, backpacked, climbed, hiked, created art, grown food, remodeled houses, raised kids, celebrated, lamented, laughed, cried, and learned together. We have spent hundreds of hours in the car, tent, hotel room, and kitchen discussing and planning the next adventure. While the journey hasn't just begun, it will continue as long as we're both alive.

The Mrs. and her bro, Cerro Rubio, NM.

"I've got a woman I love, she's crazy, paints like God
She's got a playground sense of justice, she don't take odds
I've got a tattoo of her name right through my soul
I think that everything she touches turns to gold." ----Guy Clark, "Stuff that Works"

Thanks for reading, and have a great week!

A Visit from My Old Buddy, Back Pain

If you know me, or if you've been reading this blog for a while, you'll know that I endure back pain from time to time. This past weekend was one of those times. I'm not alone, I know, but it still stinks, and can sometimes require a lot of mental fortitude to overcome. It stems from an accident I suffered over a decade ago, and every aspect of my being has changed in the past few years as the symptoms have cycled on and off. I've had a couple bad bouts with sciatica--the general term for irritation of a nerve root that radiates sensation (usually pain) down a limb--and most mornings I am thankful if I can stand up and walk down the hall without grimacing. Luckily, I'm pain-free most of the time. I have a stand-up desk at work, because sitting for long periods of time (and then standing up) can be painful. I had to sell my road bike as the bent over position irritated my spine and hips. I still run, though not as fast, and only on trails. Ski patrolling was out (see my previous post on the subject). I stretch and do core work almost every night. This latest bout of pain was due to the fact that I slacked off in my regular nightly exercise last week, then did some throwing and falling in Karate class on Saturday without warming up or stretching properly. That's the problem with working out with teenagers and kids who are made of rubber. I start thinking I'm still a kid, too.

For many folks, pain is their frequent companion. It can become constant and, in some ways, welcome, as neurons in the brain reconnect and adopt a state of pain as normal. My cousin, who also has back issues, reached a point in his life where the pleasure and pain centers in his brain were almost confused. He was driving home from work one day and the pain in his back and legs was so bad, he said it almost felt good. He underwent surgery to repair his herniated discs soon after. Drugs to combat pain are a major market for pharmaceutical companies. Alternative remedies also abound (I'm a big fan of acupuncture and massage). Yet, as endemic as crippling, chronic pain is in our population, remarkably little is understood about it. Pain treatment is a relatively undervalued and underpromoted specialty, even though chronic pain accounts for much lost productivity in the modern workforce.

Then again, this may be a phenomenon of the "knowledge worker," as folks who rely on manual labor for their livelihood don't have the luxury of complaining about their back pain. Or any pain. Folks who rely on manual labor also aren't subject to the deleterious effects of sitting at an office job, so it may not even be that much of an issue.

As I type this, I'm thankful that the stabbing sensations that plagued my back on Sunday and Monday, and the burning in my hips, have mostly subsided. My back is laterally straight again, instead of assuming the pain-induced scoliosis (sideways curve) I sometimes get. I still got the oil changed in the car and made some small picture frames for my wife (more on those later) on Sunday. Back pain is impossible to ignore, though I'll continue to try in an attempt to be productive. I'll keep stretching, keep moving, stay busy, and remain positive. It will get better, just as it has before. Which is good, because this weekend I have a Karate class, a bit more wood to split, a gig, some work around the house, and some backcountry ski terrain near Taos to check out. 

If you want to read an excellent book on the subject of pain, I'd suggest The Pain Chronicles by Melanie Thernstrom. In the book she outlines her own injury and discomfort, as well as a historical and modern perspective on pain treatment. It may sound strange, but it was cathartic to read this book in the midst of my last 6-month-long bout that required Tramadol, chiropractic intervention, and physical therapy to placate. I guess it was nice to know that other people hurt, too.

Anyway, I hope you are all well. Thanks for reading, and have a great week!

Happy New Year!

We woke up to 5" of snow in Boulder on Saturday morning, and the weather map showed precipitation all the way to the Colorado-New Mexico border. We decided to wait a day before heading home, so I had time to write a quick post. I was going to wait until we got back home, but what the heck.

The wife and I took advantage of free babysitting (grandparents) on Friday (Jan 3) to take a nice cross-country ski at one of our favorite parts of the world--Brainard Lake (CO). Despite the wind (too windy to expose much skin!), the skiing was quite good for early January. The ski did motivate me to re-commit to fitness as I have a few sore muscles this morning. I'm thinking of trying for the 1/2 Marathon in the Valles Caldera in June, as a carrot to motivate me to run and hit the gym. Who's with me?

The holidays were fairly low-key for our crowd. At our house, a tradition is sushi on Christmas Eve. This year, we rolled our own, in part because we couldn't get hold of our local sushi establishment to see if they were open Christmas Eve. It was delicious, and fun, obviously.

Christmas Day was spent lounging. My wife worked the day after Christmas so the troopers and I took a little hike at the Tsankawi Ruin near our house. We are going to have to find some longer, harder hikes because the munchkins practically jogged the 2-mile loop and barely stopped to drink water.

I'm looking forward to a busy spring. Music gigs are already lined up:
- 1/11, Blue Window Bistro (Craig Martin Experience)
- 1/19, UNM-LA (Craig Martin Experience)
- 1/25, Pajarito Mountain Ski Area (Craig Martin Experience)
- 2/8, Blue Window Bistro for the K2 Women's Weekend (Craig Martin Experience)
- 3/15, Empty Bowls Fundraiser (Craig Martin Experience)

Outdoor education:
- 3/21-23, I'm leading a ski patrol mountaineering class near Taos. Yes, I'm aware that I posted recently about quitting ski patrol. I still have a few responsibilities and goals, though, with my role as a regional representative for the mountaineering program. This class is the "level 2" version that I've been considering and planning for a few years now, and it's finally coming to fruition.

Piano lessons: 3 students and counting.

Work! It never ends. "Work is the price you pay for money" (Max Mancini).

Thanks for reading, and have a great week!

The Digital Upright Piano Project--a "Functional Intermediate"

This has been a great project. While I still have a few things to do to really "finish" this thing, for now it's at a point where I could roll it into the house and set it up (and get it out of my shop!).

One question that came up in the process was, "why would you take on a project like that?" My first answer is, "why not?" But a more complete answer is this: as we all look forward to the future our kids will have, we need to look at things we are going to throw away, like an old piano, as either materials for new projects, or as a restorable resource. It's also useful to look at it in the same way you might look at restoring a classic car or a home from the early 1900s--it's a productive hobby with a beautiful product as the goal. It's a way to breathe new life into something that was probably headed to the landfill or the fireplace. Philosophy aside, this post details how I built in the functionality I though I'd need for my home music studio space. 

After getting down to the empty case,

I cut, chiseled, scraped, filled, sanded, scrubbed, wire-brushed, shop-vac'ed and cleaned. I purchased and installed new casters from Piano Showcase Online (they have a huge selection or replacement piano parts). It rolls MUCH more smoothly now, and is much more stable with 4 casters instead of the 3 it had.

I put strips of 1/4" birch plywood between the large posts (I wanted the posts to be visible and needed the depth for some of my bigger songbooks and 3-ring binders), used 3/4" birch plywood for the "floor," and mounted pieces of cherry veneered MDF (which my wife found years ago at a yard sale) on the sides to bring the insides flush with the trim and enable opening/closing of the bottom flap (here the flap is open).

The upper shelf is more or less temporary, but for now will hold my speakers, recording interface, a mixer, and a computer. The shelf supports were made from pieces of the piano guts.

The upper arrangement will probably change. Part of rolling it into the house is to determine what will ultimately fit my needs.

For a more "authentic" look & feel, I set up the damper (right-hand) pedal on the piano to actuate the sustain function on the keyboard. I dismantled the plastic pedal that came with the keyboard, removed the switch, and installed it under the piano's pedal. The pedals had a bunch of holes drilled in them, making installation of a post (a screw, actually) to actuate the switch relatively easy. A fairly stiff spring was placed underneath the pedal arm to return the pedal to the "up" position. The other pedals were "fixed" in place and are currently just there for looks. I made a removable cover so I can go in and add some function to the other pedals later on, if desired. This picture is taken more or less from the top.

The front plate below the keyboard tray needed a hinge and a method to slide it back out of the way. I took two of the maple rods from the guts of the piano and transformed them into slides for the flap.

 I fabricated pins for the slides from two of the screws that held the cast iron harp in place; I basically just ground the heads of the screws down to the diameter I needed and brushed them smooth. Here's the flap closed.

I wanted to rig the upper panel the same way, but there wasn't enough room in the carcase for the panel to slide inside very far. I'm still debating about what to do; I may make it so it slides straight up, but for now it'll just be removable (basically I'm going to leave it alone). There was a really cool, really simple mechanism that linked tilting the upper panel with opening the key cover. Since the key cover had to go, I just changed the mechanism so that I can still actuate it, but from the front with a lever (for now). Here's a close-up, which is the inside left of the piano between the upper shelf and keyboard shelf.

I finished all the shelves and plywood that I installed with rub-on polyurethane to stand up to wear & tear. Rub-on poly is my current favorite finish. It's easy to use, easy to clean up, goes on in thin,  controllable coats, and dries relatively quickly so I can get multiple coats on in a single day.

Here's the "studio" in the house with most of the equipment installed and the upper front panel removed.

The cords and headphones are hanging on some of the pegs that once held the strings. There were more than 225 of these things. It's great pegboard. Ultimately I plan to have a dedicated keyboard for this piano, but for now I'll move my gigging piano in and out.

And here is the piano case with all the remaining covers closed.

As with most projects, there were a few things that I didn't anticipate. Moving it into the house was more difficult than I thought it'd be. The depth of the piano is ~28 1/2", leaving about 1/4" on each side as we squeezed it through the doorway between the garage and the house. We needed a straight shot, which necessitated moving a few things around (and cleaning) in the garage. The next several days will be spent sorting the garage back out.

Another problem is that the digital piano is a good 2-3" thicker than the keybed that I removed, and the piano sits a bit too high to play comfortably for long periods of time. I'll need to create a recess in the keyboard shelf for the digital to sit down in before I can start teaching lessons to little kids with this set-up. Or I'll need to find an organ bench.


An unanticipated bonus is the resonance that I get inside the wooden case, even through the 5 1/2" speakers I currently have. I had bring the bass and low-mid down and boost the high-mid and high, but it sounds really good. I could even feel the sound resonating while I was playing the last few days.

Next steps, eventually, maybe:
- re-do the keyboard shelf
- a couple trim pieces need to be installed
- connection box that houses all the hook-ups (audio, USB, power, etc) to ease switching keyboards and hooking up for recording
- main power switch and wired outlets in a few places
- retractable upper front panel (instead of removable)
- better way to tilt the upper front panel
- multiple positions/angles for upper shelf (in the likely event I want a 2nd keyboard there) and/or multiple upper shelves/cubbies/drawers
- dedicated keyboard (at that point I'll also install the wooden spacers between the case and the keys)
- larger speakers (more bass response)
- possibly, functionality for the other pedals (on/off switch? soft? expression?)
- other projects with the odds and ends that I took out of the thing.

Oh, and if you have any ideas for what to do with a gigantic cast iron harp, other than scrap, please let me know!

Thanks for reading, and have a great week!

Recent Small Projects and Deep Thoughts

I made a bunch of these Altoids tin fly boxes, just in time for the ol' holidays:

The idea of the Altoids tin fly box is not new, but this is a slightly classier version. I rendered a bitmap from a photograph (or, in non-tech-speak, I drew the stencil) in Inkscape (a good freeware graphics program), cut it out on a laser cutter, applied it in enamel (black fingernail polish) with a stenciling brush, and coated the lid with a spray-on acrylic clear-coat to protect the image. The ripple foam was a "boat patch" that I purchased a while back and cut down to fit the tins. It came pre-glued with rubber cement and sticks nicely. The boxes came from Specialty Bottle, though I'll probably recycle tins for future boxes and charge a bit less. I have these kits for sale at Warm Hearts Yarn in White Rock with a selection of flies (tied by me) for local waters. At this point I should also plug Bill Orr and Karen Denison's book, Fly Patterns of Northern New Mexico as the source of the fly patterns in this collection. Look for it at your local bookstore, or heck, find Bill at the Los Alamos Farmer's Market next summer (that's where I bought my copy!).

SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT: I tie flies quite a bit, and I'm reasonably good at it. If there's a fly or a set of flies you're dying to try and don't want to drive to Santa Fe to buy, give me a shout. I'll do custom orders.  I'm also planning a tying class or two for early spring, say March-ish, again in White Rock.

My wife and I just pulled the trigger on a new sewing machine, something we've been saving for for quite a while. The most important feature we were looking for: sewing in a straight line with minimal input (our ol' Pfaff has a broken feed dog). We're looking forward to yards and yards of stitch-making fun. I can't believe how automatic these new machines are; even threading the needle is an automated task, done at the push of a button. Right now I'm in the middle of replacing the zipper on my favorite lightweight jacket, which has been relegated to a drawer for 2 years with a busted zipper, and it's time to resurrect it. I spent an hour with the seam ripper a few nights ago, and I have to say, the folks that sew for Cloudveil do a very good and thorough job! Maybe that expensive outdoor clothing is worth the price.

The old Pfaff managed to turn out my Christmas stocking, which I made from the sleeves of my Carhartt jacket-to-vest conversion. It is hung by the fireplace with care (or carabiner...). The "man stocking" may be a gift for next year's Christmas season, sized big enough for tools, firearms, a 6-pack, etc. We'll see. Maybe I'll make some in camo, too.

 
I'm working on a sword for my son for Christmas. I'm going to use an old axe handle my Dad had lying around in his odds and ends. I had been making swords for all the boys (my son's friends and their brothers) for their birthdays, but sort of slacked off when it came to my own. That and I ran out of the good 5/8" plywood. He said he wanted the "ninja" sword anyway, which makes stock selection easier because there's no elaborate hand guard. Stay tuned for that as well, but I'm hoping to crank it out over the weekend.

Speaking of dads and sons, I've been going through my dad's tools and hunting stuff on my trips back to Idaho, most recently over the week surrounding Thanksgiving. His big old desk still sits in his basement "den," and going through that has been a trip down memory lane. I remember being 5 or 6 and sitting there at the little pull-out writing board, playing with my Matchbox cars or Legos or building with nuts and bolts and magnets while he tied flies or reloaded shells. I learned to tie flies on that pull-out table. I also remember sitting on his lap and pulling the handles and moving the levers on his shotgun shell reloading equipment--first the primer, then the powder, then the wad, then the shot, and finally the crimp. Over and over. I'm honestly amazed at the variety of things he did as an adult, from hunting and fishing to golf and clubmaking to skiing, from landscaping his property to maintaining his vehicles. Maybe that's where I got my varied interests and do-it-myself tendencies! In going through his possessions, I've not only encountered personal nostalgia, but also a history lesson from the 60s through the present--old cardboard cigar boxes, tools, silverware, knives, guns and the ancillary equipment (cleaning, smithing, etc.), vintage books, and some older hunting clothes. I'm also amazed at how much of that stuff I personally remember, and how things have shifted. For example, my memory of the heft of one of his pocket knives doesn't match with my current reality. That desk, however, is still gigantic, and I look forward to someday having a place in my home for it. Our little 1200 square foot abode just doesn't have room for it now, unfortunately. 

My goal for Christmas is to have my upright piano project done, or at least usable. Two or three more good hours and I'll be there. The new casters are on and all that's left is an upper shelf. Hopefully a showcase of the piano project will fill my next post.

Thanks for reading, and have a great week!

First Tracks

For me, a skier since I was 5 years old, first tracks meant getting out the door at some ungodly hour to brave challenging road conditions (traffic or snowpack or both!), and/or find a mountain and start moving. The goal was to be the first person on the mountain, either riding the lift up or hiking up to ski down. I've skied--downhill, cross-country, and backcountry--in 7 states and Canada. Blizzards, snow-packed roads, jack-knived semis, and traffic jams were my frequent companions. I have poor circulation in my feet from standing around in the snow during too many avalanche classes. But I've logged many miles in the mountains in pursuit of something else, something beyond, and yes, the bragging rights that come with being the first one there (or maybe even the only one!) and doing things that few others will or can do.

When I lived in Colorado's Front Range, ski traffic was a horrendous ordeal: it caused more fear in me than the impressive Rocky mountains, and contributed to the desire to move. Avoiding traffic motivated creative schedules (up at 5 am to beat the traffic then leave the mountains by early afternoon), added expense (meals out, lodging, etc.), off-the-beaten-path destinations, or spending the night in the car. Here's a morning after a chilly night on Tennessee Pass, CO in my wife's old Subaru: We got up, had our oatmeal, and toured around the pass, but we were back on I-70 by early afternoon to, you guessed it, beat the traffic.

Then we moved to Los Alamos, where Pajarito Mountain is 20 minutes from town. First tracks are closer, but, in some ways, more difficult to get because the outdoor community in Los Alamos is extremely motivated. There's always someone who got up earlier, went further, and climbed higher.  

While I've slowed down a little, I don't plan to quit the mountain lifestyle any time soon. Here, Rusty the dog and I are getting first ski tracks on a beautiful Spring day near Wolf Creek Pass (photo by Ryan Hess)

in the Nambe Chutes near Santa Fe on another, cloudier, Spring day (photo by Scott Hsu)

 and on Wheeler Peak, New Mexico's high point (sans Rusty; photo by Scott Hsu).

Come to think of it, though, those pics were all taken about 10 years ago. A lot's changed since then.

Like having kids.  Here we are in our local Jemez Mountains, getting a different kind of first tracks (yes, that's me pulling a kid in a sled on my lightweight Nordic gear; photo by my lovely wife):

As you can see, my accepted meaning of first tracks has relaxed a little. I was musing on this little revelation the other day while out walking with Rusty the dog. Even at 8:30 in the morning, we were the first ones out on the local trails behind our house. I could hear the crunch of the snow, feel the crisp, cold morning air, and see the tracks that the crows and coyotes had left during the previous night's snowfall as they, too, were looking for something.  Rusty and I got first tracks that morning, and it didn't involve traffic or treacherous roads or a long hike. Rather, it required an openness to what was: the fact that we were the first ones out on the trail, getting some exercise, and enjoying a little fresh air and solitude.

Maybe that's just the persistence of time, the willingness to compromise on what we will endure for bragging rights. Now I'm as apt to brag that we can get the kids to bed by 8 pm, or that I got a chilly but beautiful moonlit walk, as I am about anything else. That said, Pajarito Mountain is currently blanketed in snow, and I'll be digging the skis out for their season prep sometime this week. Hopefully Sundance run stays un-tracked for another few days, but I doubt it will.

As a parting shot, here's a picture I took that I think captures the essence and spirit of "first tracks."

After a light snow a couple years ago, the boy put on his winter clothes, went to the garage, grabbed his cross country skis, headed out to the back yard, and toured through the garden. Adventure, it turns out, is where you find it.

Thanks for reading, and have a great week!