The Train in Dunsmuir

On April 4, I wrote that the previous Wednesday I finished up work around the same time I normally would and walked home and packed and caught a bus to Emeryville Station and confirmed my train's arrival.

I was repacking before the train arrived and was frazzled because I had made a few mistakes timing my departure. However, my feelings improved as I put my bags away though. I took my books to the café car to have a snack and read my book until midnight.

Sometime before arriving at Chico Station, I settled in for a nap. I woke up at three in the morning, right before arriving in Redding. Then, as we entered the mountains, I willed myself to dress for the cold and eventually headed downstairs. I set up in the “lounge“ area – basically a powder room with a double vanity – I was disappointed that it had no bench, but I managed.

When I was ready, I stood with the conductor near the train’s exit watching light glinting off the the snow covered forest. We passed my remaining twenty minutes on the train with light conversation as I drank a can of coffee. I was the only one to get off the train in Dunsmuir. The town was quiet and inactive at 5:10 in the morning. I dug through my bag across from the town’s only motel for a phone charger before hitching a ride to the town of Mount Shasta.

The guy who picked me up told me that he shuttles the UP crew around the region for a living and that he had just completed a drop off. However, he noted that he also occasionally works for the local taxi service in the neighborhoods. So, as we sped up the interstate above the Sacramento Canyon, I decided to give him money when he dropped me off in town since I had basically just hailed an independent cab. I felt the need to acknowledge that he had just picked me up in the middle of the night from the middle of nowhere…

I went to Starbucks and I sat there until seven drinking coffee. I was really bummed out when I discovered that the bus to McLeod had just passed me. I had consulted the bus timetables weeks before and had concluded that the case for taking the bus from Dunsmuir to the ski resort was actually fraught and had given up on the idea. However, there was one segment that matched my schedule, and I had not really considered the possibility that I would be able to use it.

I collected my things and I went to the hotel that I had booked. I knew that they would not be open yet. So, I just looked through the window and I checked out the coffee shop

I walked across the street to Shasta Boulevard to hitch another ride. I had a sign that said Ski Shasta. Some guy picked me up. He told me that he worked at a small ski resort in Oregon and would snowboard at other resorts in his free time. He told me that he had to visited Shasta with a bunch of his friends. He had a big van filled with his life in it… Basically he was living out of his van. It was a nice van though.

When I got to the resort, I rented skis and got ready in the locker room. Everything fit in the locker. I took Douglas Lift. It had no safety bar and the seat was narrow, and that was disconcerting. I got to see the weird statue at the top – The Luminarians. I descended to Coyote Lift. Riding that was easier – it was less narrow. Then I tried to descend to Gray Butte but it didn’t work. I had to walk the cat track and it sucked.

Gray Butte, which is technically the backside of the resort, really made me giddy though because it was so fun. I rested a bit at the bottom and then I did three or four runs there. Then I experimented with a route I had seen on the previous run. I descended from the top of Gray Butte lift on the far right side of the runs until I found the flagging which marked the route..

As I descended along a path, I noted that it wasn’t really good for snowboards, but it was OK for me because it was pretty straightforward and clearly marked. While riding through the first time, I found a sign that said “backcountry cabin.” From there, I noted that the other direction would’ve taken me back to the Gray Butte Lift.

I followed the higher run which proved fruitful. The lower runs all converged on the cat track at the bottom. I noted that it probably would’ve been better to go that way since they both go over to the front side.

I descended to the Lodge for fries and a Dr Pepper before taking the Marmot Lift on the kiddy slopes, which also didn’t have a safety bar and gave me nightmares. The kid left was terrifying for me! I ascended Coyote again and this time road closer to the cornice on the backside, and though I made the left without hiking, it was not very effective either. I determined that I actually needed to go around the chorus and descent towards the backcountry cabin (although it’s not possible to get to the cabin on this route). I ascended twice more sedate this time.

An old college classmate sent me pictures of his trip as he was skiing in Park City. The pictures were honestly amazing. However, I sent him pictures that were pretty great too. Eventually though, the snow was really heavy and I wasn’t loving it so I took the cat track to Coyote. I noted that the backside of Coyote is the only real way to get to Gray Butte. I was really tired when I got to the lodge. I had a beer and a Jager shot and then dumped my equipment and walked in my socks to the locker room where I packed to leave by 3:45.

I got one ride to the town of Mount Shasta. The person who picked me up turned out to be an old coworker, who was stunned to find me hitchhiking. I got to meet his children. The last time I had seen the younger one he had been in a stroller, so it was pretty eye-opening. He and I had worked together at City College and had met up at Car Free Happy Hour and Geobeers a whole bunch of times. We lived in the same neighborhood.

They were headed to pick up his wife in Dunsmuir. I was able to convince him to drop me off at my hotel, which has 12 rooms and no staff. When I got to my room, it had only just become available. All the locks are keypads. The room was huge.

I was really lazy for a while but later I walked Mount Shasta Boulevard to a Mexican restaurant, which turned out to be closed. Some guy on the way told me that the south end of Mount Shasta Boulevard is dead. I honestly should’ve borrowed the guy’s bike since I ended up walking back to the center of town where I found a Mexican restaurant.

I noted that Mount Shasta Boulevard has a bunch of shops and restaurants and that I really wanted to explore the rest of the town. Unfortunately, I had not slept in at least 20 hours and was dead tired. So, I told myself that I could look around the next day and I walked back to the hotel room and quit at about 830.

I was able to get comfortable despite the aches from my ski adventure. I got up at 850 and a short while later went to the coffee shop inside of the hotel. There was a lady who was bothering everyone. The staff there wouldn’t acknowledge that I had ordered everything for here and they gave me all this paper bags and stuff. The baked goods were OK though.

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

Butter People

On March 13, 2025, I wrote that the day before I went home from work and prepared for a rainy Butter Lap. Once I was packed, I rode Market Street to the Ferry Building and got myself empanadas as a snack. Then I sat with people I knew from the ride and the other Butter people until it was time to go.

I ended up buying batteries at fisherman‘s wharf because my lights weren’t working. I also felts silly since it was obvious there were no rain concerns. I climbed up to Pacific Overlook as the one other person from the group passed me and it was just us there for a while. SOme others were there with a few people a bit later. As we descended to Lobos Creek it was freezing. I chatted with a couple of the new people. We passed the strongest fixed gear rider. When we were done climbing to Legion of Honor, I shed my rain clothes.

One of the riders had cake because it was her birthday and that was most of the reason why I was there. One of the other riders offered me mulled rum which was really nice. Everyone seemed to disappear a short moment later so I took 30th to Golden Gate Park and ended up chasing riders I thought knew who I had found on JFK. However, they got away and later on I realized that they were not from the ride because the fastest rider turned up behind me and he’s usually first in the pack. I rode to Stanyan then and took my raincoat off. I was really hot at that point.

I accidentally went down Duboce not remembering I was going to Benders. I took Capp and Van Ness. I passed a bunch of the riders then. At the bar I chatted with the people. THe bike party people I knew on the ride – particularly the East Bay people – had left after Legion of Honor. I sent some of them pictures. We played pool. I left at 1:30

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

I Stood at The Top Tree

On March 9, I wrote that I wanted to attend SFBP.

I took a bike share to the apartment to find out where Bike Party would be. I rode to ferry building and got empanadas and beer.

When the ride left, the flag circled ballpark and Mission Bay to Dogpatch. I chatted with participants along the way. I saw others I knew. We took Chavez to Potrero del Sol and I got to know some new people. SOme people I had known a long time were there too. New people got to know each other, and there were a lot of people in a big group.

We rode up 24th. A butter Lap person was nearby so when I spoke to her. We chatted about being Car Free and having motorist friends. The new people slowly faded away. I saw them again on Sanchez though.

At Duboce Park the group and I stood at the top tree and looked at everyone. I found a friend with a front loading cargo bike. I had some of his mescal. We all shared our social media. I saw It was there that I saw many of the people I know from Lower Haight and I kind of had a lot of feelings about it because I like everyone together like that. However, sometimes being around a lot of people you like gets you down too.

I spoke to the ones I got a lot with best for a bit. I noted that they had been with the East Bay Bike Party people celebrating Ragbai.

I went home when everyone had left.

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

Down the Ravine Headfirst

On March 1, 2025, I wrote that I got up at 6:20 in the morning of the day I wrote this and got my seven year old boys up and out the door by seven. The three of us rode the cargo bike to San Francisco Station and at 740 we boarded with no problem. The boys played iPad and drank smoothies and hot cocoa. I had a pastry. At San Jose Diridon Station, we transferred to the Green Line.

It was kind of cold. At Campbell Station we went to the coffee shop nearby. I filled up our cups and ate a bagel. Then we headed out to Los Gatos Creek path. We tried the east side of the path this time. The ride to the lower reservoir was good and fast. At Vasona Lake Park we stopped at the parking lot to watch the train. We sped up to Lexington Reservoir then.

In Los Gatos, I chose to go through the baseball stadium to avoid some gates. I just zipped through the narrow section of the creek. The boys hiked up the Lexington Dam without me. I enjoyed the fresh air alone. We ascended to Alma Bridge together. Only one car passed us. We parked near Moody Gulch and walked along the path which became less clear as we progressed.

Eventually we were making our way through brush and steep hillside. There were toppled trees, but I had my eye on Ryland Dam which I could see. I was thinking too much about my objective and less about getting to it, and I should’ve spent more time thinking about it. We were basically traversing the side of the fault and because it was a fault there was active erosion going on.

The three of us were holding hands, but we were above a ravine filled with stinging nettle. I slipped and accidentally pulled one of my boys and he felt straight down the ravine headfirst. He was really upset when he got to the bottom.“I’m sorry“ I said to him over and over “I’m sorry!“

I made sure my other son was on stable ground and then I descended to check on the one who had fallen. He was on the shore of Los Gatos Creek. I found he had light scrapes and I made sure he was not panicking. Then I went up and got my other son.

We washed up with creek water and rested. The boys were OK but upset. I gave both of them, hugs and apologized a lot. The foliage was mostly stinging nettle and blackberry. I had concluded that there wasn’t any poison oak for the most part. We followed some sand bars and under redwood roots in the middle of the creek there.

Because it hadn’t rained recently the creek was actually pretty low and traversible. We should have descended to the creek earlier and just picked through the rocks, but I just thought that there was no way through. We forded a puddle and landed on a muddy bar which we were able to avoid sinking into. We balanced on a tree while gripping willow shoots. Then we picked our way across wet stones. The stones were a mixture of Franciscan church and Salinas granite with a variety of other materials.

At this point we were right below Ryland Dam. We climbed the salmon ladder to the south side of the spillway. The ladder turns at the top and then there is a catchment up there but the creek no longer fills the ladder since the water is now piped down from the upper reservoirs. I picked the boys up and placed them on the cat walk there and we climbed up on top.

We inspected the pipeline bridgeway and then, instead of trying to get back across the creek and onward to Aldercroft side, we followed the pipe to a street nearby named Assiniboine. It was a climb which I decided not to do. On my previous visit to Assiniboine I had discovered that there was a telephone line or a powerline that crossed the creek from the old hwy 17 side of the creek to the Aldercroft side and from the pipeline itself, I could see that power/phone line crossing 100 feet above us and Assiniboine street and Chemeketa neighborhood were about 40 feet above the ravine through thick foliage.

On the way back, the boys debated on how to cross the creek. We decided to scramble back down on the hillside next to the salmon ladder and then ford the creek because the pipe bridge was gated. When we climbed up to the other side to the Aldercroft side of the bridgeway we followed the pipeline road, which was old railroad tracks and walked to Aldercroft.

The boys and I made lighthearted comments about falling into the creek, etc. When we got to Alma Bridge, I saw some bike tourists and I asked them a bunch of questions. They said that they were taking old highway to Summit and Soquel, but they considered Mountain Charlie to be an option. They were uncertain which way they were going.

A bit later the boys and I returned to our cargo bike bike and we rode it back to Lexington Dam with no trouble. We descended to Los Gatos Town and back to the baseball field. Then we returned to Vasona Reservoir where I got tickets for the Jones Model Train. The boys liked it in the end. It was smoky and misty. They sprayed us with steam mist from the engine as we rode through the park.

Latter I made sure we cleaned up from our trip to the forest. After that, we rode to Campbell Station and waited before riding to San Jose station. We stopped at Whole Foods and got some food before boarding Caltrain back to SF. The boys played iPad until we got back to the Mission via BART.

I was writing in my note book while riding the train. One boy was sleeping in my lap and the other was kicking me. The next stop was Balboa and we were getting off at 16th.

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

Down the Ravine Headfirst

On March 1, 2025, I wrote that I got up at 6:20 in the morning of the day I wrote this and got my seven year old boys up and out the door by seven. The three of us rode the cargo bike to San Francisco Station and at 740 we boarded with no problem. The boys played iPad and drank smoothies and hot cocoa. I had a pastry. At San Jose Diridon Station, we transferred to the Green Line.

It was kind of cold. At Campbell Station we went to the coffee shop nearby. I filled up our cups and ate a bagel. Then we headed out to Los Gatos Creek path. We tried the east side of the path this time. The ride to the lower reservoir was good and fast. At Vasona Lake Park we stopped at the parking lot to watch the train. We sped up to Lexington Reservoir then.

In Los Gatos, I chose to go through the baseball stadium to avoid some gates. I just zipped through the narrow section of the creek. The boys hiked up the Lexington Dam without me. I enjoyed the fresh air alone. We ascended to Alma Bridge together. Only one car passed us. We parked near Moody Gulch and walked along the path which became less clear as we progressed.

Eventually we were making our way through brush and steep hillside. There were toppled trees, but I had my eye on Ryland Dam which I could see. I was thinking too much about my objective and less about getting to it, and I should’ve spent more time thinking about it. We were basically traversing the side of the fault and because it was a fault there was active erosion going on.

The three of us were holding hands, but we were above a ravine filled with stinging nettle. I slipped and accidentally pulled one of my boys and he felt straight down the ravine headfirst. He was really upset when he got to the bottom.“I’m sorry“ I said to him over and over “I’m sorry!“

I made sure my other son was on stable ground and then I descended to check on the one who had fallen. He was on the shore of Los Gatos Creek. I found he had light scrapes and I made sure he was not panicking. Then I went up and got my other son.

We washed up with creek water and rested. The boys were OK but upset. I gave both of them, hugs and apologized a lot. The foliage was mostly stinging nettle and blackberry. I had concluded that there wasn’t any poison oak for the most part. We followed some sand bars and under redwood roots in the middle of the creek there.

Because it hadn’t rained recently the creek was actually pretty low and traversible. We should have descended to the creek earlier and just picked through the rocks, but I just thought that there was no way through. We forded a puddle and landed on a muddy bar which we were able to avoid sinking into. We balanced on a tree while gripping willow shoots. Then we picked our way across wet stones. The stones were a mixture of Franciscan church and Salinas granite with a variety of other materials.

At this point we were right below Ryland Dam. We climbed the salmon ladder to the south side of the spillway. The ladder turns at the top and then there is a catchment up there but the creek no longer fills the ladder since the water is now piped down from the upper reservoirs. I picked the boys up and placed them on the cat walk there and we climbed up on top.

We inspected the pipeline bridgeway and then, instead of trying to get back across the creek and onward to Aldercroft side, we followed the pipe to a street nearby named Assiniboine. It was a climb which I decided not to do. On my previous visit to Assiniboine I had discovered that there was a telephone line or a powerline that crossed the creek from the old hwy 17 side of the creek to the Aldercroft side and from the pipeline itself, I could see that power/phone line crossing 100 feet above us and Assiniboine street and Chemeketa neighborhood were about 40 feet above the ravine through thick foliage.

On the way back, the boys debated on how to cross the creek. We decided to scramble back down on the hillside next to the salmon ladder and then ford the creek because the pipe bridge was gated. When we climbed up to the other side to the Aldercroft side of the bridgeway we followed the pipeline road, which was old railroad tracks and walked to Aldercroft.

The boys and I made lighthearted comments about falling into the creek, etc. When we got to Alma Bridge, I saw some bike tourists and I asked them a bunch of questions. They said that they were taking old highway to Summit and Soquel, but they considered Mountain Charlie to be an option. They were uncertain which way they were going.

A bit later the boys and I returned to our cargo bike bike and we rode it back to Lexington Dam with no trouble. We descended to Los Gatos Town and back to the baseball field. Then we returned to Vasona Reservoir where I got tickets for the Jones Model Train. The boys liked it in the end. It was smoky and misty. They sprayed us with steam mist from the engine as we rode through the park.

Latter I made sure we cleaned up from our trip to the forest. After that, we rode to Campbell Station and waited before riding to San Jose station. We stopped at Whole Foods and got some food before boarding Caltrain back to SF. The boys played iPad until we got back to the Mission via BART.

I was writing in my note book while riding the train. One boy was sleeping in my lap and the other was kicking me. The next stop was Balboa and we were getting off at 16th.

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

Ride up Mount Diablo

On February 10, I wrote that the previous Sunday an acquaintance had been staying with me in the Mission District. I had suggested we accompany a group of cyclists to Mount Diablo and at around 7 am we rode the bikes to Civic Center and onward to Walnut Creek BART where we got coffee.

A short while later we met up with at least fifteen people for the ride. We started off using Ironhorse Trail from Broadway and a little while later rode up El Cerro and through a few more turns to the State Park Gate Road.

After taking a group picture at State Park Gate, we continued. I caught a glimpse of someone from the group with a flat, but the group helped them out. Sadly, my companion and I were dead last after that. When we got to the park entrance gate, he revealed that he wanted to quit. However, I was able to convince him to have a snack at Rock City a few miles up the road where we looked at elephant rock and a few other sights before heading back. The descent was nice.

Going through the Diablo Country Club and that actually made things a lot easier. I noted that El Cerro is a terrible road. We continued without any problems to Walnut Creek BART then. I noted when headed back to San Francisco that the ride had gone well but it was a stretch.

Back in the city my companion and I enjoyed some delicious Thai food on Divisadero. I noted a funny moment where we happened upon some people from the ride earlier. I waved at all of them and they were happy to see me. Apparently, others had dropped out of the climb as well.

After that, we took in the sights and I also saw a coworker outside of a store on 9th avenue. My companion and I went to the Shamrock. Everyone was there for the Super Bowl.

 
This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

Bike Party at The Panhandle

On February 8, I wrote that an acquaintance of mine borrowed one of my bikes and we rode to to Baker to meet Bike Party at the Panhandle. It was muddy, but the ride was leaving so we didn’t hang out in the mud. I saw a lot of regular riders. I also saw some people from my neighborhood. There are a whole bunch of other people there.

We rode up Golden Gate from Lyon and over to Anza at Lone Mountain. At about 27th Avenue we rode up Geary and headed to Sutro Heights. My companion and I stood with the regulars and said hi to people. I took pictures.

The group rode down from the Cliff House and up MLK. It was so cold I needed gloves. At JFK at Prayerbook Waterfall there were cop cars everywhere. We were at Conservatory of Flowers for about 25 minutes. I saw a bunch of people I hadn’t seen in a while. It was a real party. My companion and I followed the ride leaders Page Street but split off to the apartment.

 
This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.