Henry's

(Diary Entry January, 2010)

Henry Block, Tom McCray, Bill Ryder, and I were in Peace Corps in the early 60’s in the outer islands of Micronesia. They were in Truk District, now called Chuuk. I was in the Marshalls. Henry and Tom were island mates (Peace Corps volunteers on the same island). The four of us shared similar experiences of living on very small atolls with very small populations of locals, about 65 individuals in my case, up to 250 in the case of Bill and Henry. Those shared experiences provided a bond for us and have helped keep us together over the years.

Since the late 70’s, some combination of the four of us has gotten together each winter for 2 or more weeks to ski and relax. Henry died from natural causes 2 years ago, so now there are 3 of us. A couple others have joined us for shorter periods in the last few years (Tom’s brother, Rob, and our good friend and ski-mentor, Fred Torrence, who we met in Teton Valley, ID in the 80’s). The point is that we’ve kept in touch with each other over the years, and have gone out of our way to make these winter get-aways happen. They comprise a highly valued anchor for my life and this is one of the times of the year I most look forward to.

This year’s trip began last weekend when Bill arrived from Hawaii, where he spends late fall and early winter. The 2 of us drove from my house in Irvine to the place we’ve stayed in recent years. We have one of two apartments that Ted and Shana Kasper built over their garage to supplement their income. The place is small, but just right for us, with a living room/kitchen, bedroom, and bath. We rent it for a month, and it’s very reasonable. The cost of these excursions is minimal since we do our own cooking, and don’t have to buy expensive lift-tickets to ski at the resort, preferring to ski backcountry where we earn our turns, by ski-hiking to the top under our own power.

Backcountry skiing is like chairlift-serviced skiing, except we ski-hike to the top of our ski destination rather than riding up in a chairlift. It’s not unlike bicycling, where you spend a long time riding up a long ascent, then enjoy a short, often thrilling, ride down from the top. Modern backcountry skiing gear allows the heel to lift up from the ski's surface when climbing (with alpine gear, the heel is fixed to the surface, preventing raising the heel to go uphill), and climbing skins (synthetic fabric that adheres to ski bottoms with fibers that extend backwards along the ski, preventing the ski from slipping when pointing uphill) allow you to climb uphill. But it’s not ski-gear, or the skiing experiences, wonderful though they may be, that I want to talk about. It’s friendship.

What’s the value of a friend? It’s the value of life itself. Without the close contacts of friends and family to share with and confide in, life hardly has any meaning at all. Take today: this morning a friend we’ve known here in the valley, Glenn Vitucci, called in response to an earlier call of Tom to him, asking if we could get together for a visit, or a ski. Glenn returned the call this morning, and we arranged to meet him at one of our favorite backcountry ski locations.

We skied at a place we call Henry’s. It had snowed about 2 feet over the last several days, and the snow was heavy and almost too deep to ski. We did our best, and after several runs, headed back to the trail-head about 4:00 pm. On the way back we stopped at our favorite pub for a basket (of French fries) and a pitcher (of Sweetgrass IPA Beer). We talked about the day, and about the prospects for skiing over in the upcoming days. We also shared news about mutual friends. One of whom was Heny, who isn’t with us any longer. By the way, we call the place we skied today “Henry’s”, because it was one of his favorite places to ski.

Henry never gained the level of fitness of the rest of us, and always carried a considerable amount of weight. I’d guess his weight fluctuated between 180 and 200 pounds. Being large makes gravity sports, like ski-climbing, more difficult. It’s never as easy for a 185 pound person to work against gravity as it is for someone lighter. Fred (damn him!) weighs in at not more than 125 pounds, dripping wet. And he can climb like a mountain goat. None of us can keep up with him if he wants to get to the top of the hill.

Henry’s is the lower portion of a backcountry ski area called Lone Pine, named for the single tree (actually a very small group of trees) toward the top of the open ski slope. By the time Henry got to the lower portion of this area, he had exhausted his strengths, and didn’t want to go any further. He would ski there, even when the conditions weren’t great. Because he always wanted to stop there, we named the spot “Henry’s”.

Henry was a bigger-than-life kind of guy. He went out of his way to make everyone comfortable. He was the eighth of a family of 10 children (Henry, the eighth), mostly males. Growing up in a large family like that, he learned to get his share and have his voice heard, while still protecting his siblings. He started a men’s support group at one point, and kept it active for years. His wife (second wife) was a counselor and Henry soon learned that the informal support structures that women develop are frequently lacking for men. Men grow up competing with each other, and often don’t know how to ask for help and offer it to others. So Henry jumped in the fill the gap.

Henry was something of an iconoclast. One of my memories of him is one winter, about 1999, when driving through Jackson Hole on one of our excursions. Likely, we were on our way to the Visitor’s Center at Grand Teton National Park. We stopped in Jackson; perhaps to enjoy the wonderful sourdough pancakes at Jedediah’s Restaurant, named for Jedediah Smith, one of the wilderness pioneers of the Jackson Hole area. On the way, a hat made from a badger skin caught Henry’s eye. After admiring his image in the mirror with the hat, he looked at the pricey $175 tag, and returned it to the shelf. But on the way back through town after having completed our excursion, he bought the hat. He said he couldn’t resist getting it, partly because it was so politically incorrect. Here’s a photo of the four of us:  Bill, Tom, Henry wearing his badger hat, and me.

Bike Stories - Me 'n Lance (2002)

In 2002, I had a business meeting in Austin , Texas in mid-April. I decided to travel early, the weekend before, to visit a friend, Chris Williams, who lived in Austin. Thinking I would try to get a bicycle ride in, I borrowed another friend's Bike Friday to carry with me on the airplane.  A Bike Friday is a small-wheel travel bike that fits in a suitcase and can be carried on a plane, generally at little expense.

I also looked on the Internet for Austin cycling clubs, and when I looked at the Austin Bike Club's ride schedule for Sunday, April 14, it said "no rides scheduled ... supporting Lance Armstrong's Ride for the Roses." What luck! I went to the link that was displayed on the bike club’s website, and signed up for the ride. I registered for the 100 mile ride. There are shorter distances as well, but being a distance rider I opted for the longest one shown.

I arrived Saturday and had a wonderful supper with Chris. We took plenty of time to reminisce. Chris and I shared two years in the Peace Corps in the late 60’s, teaching English as a second language in the Marshall Islands, a group of atolls in the middle of the Pacific.

Sunday morning Chris drove me to the starting location.  When he dropped me off, he took the photo shown above.  It turned out I was almost too late. But, by blind luck, this worked to my advantage. At the ride start I looked across the huge staging area where the riders were assembling for the start, and I saw several huge groups of cyclists waiting for their turn to begin the ride.

As I was puzzling over where I was supposed to assemble, I heard an emcee announcing the ride start. I could hear him exchanging quips with, of all people, Robin Williams. I knew he was a cyclist and friend of Lance, but I didn’t know he was expected to ride that day. As I looked across the thousands of people, I saw an area with a large banner above it, and a cadre of photographers with cameras raised high. I had brought a camera in my jersey pocket, so I made my way to where the commotion was and ... Egad! ... There was Lance, and next to him, Robin Williams, Eric Heiden, and Davis Phinney! There was just enough time to grab a couple of quick photos with my camera before the announcer blew the horn for the start for the first group, the group with Lance, where I was standing. I jumped on my Bike Friday, and we rode out of the stadium.

We started through the western outskirts of Austin, heading further west. At first, we were on a well-traveled highway. I could see Lance farther forward in the group. I could tell it was him because of his US Postal Service cycling clothes and his rapid cadence, which stood out from that of the others. Leading the group was a stake-bed truck loaded with paparazzi taking pictures of the celebs in the front.

I was reluctant to go farther forward and snap a picture of Lance riding in the peloton for fear of making the congestion at the front worse than it already was. I thought there might be an opportunity later when the front pack thinned out. But when we got further out of town, the pace picked up to 25-30 mph and it was all I could do to stay with the group. Finally, at about mile 35, I had to drop from the front pack. I've never been a great climber, and having extended myself just trying to stay with the group on the flats, I was quickly dropped when we went over a small rise. But I'm happy I was able to stay with them as long as I did. I heard someone say that we averaged about 25 mph for those first 35 miles. When the next group came by (the fastest riders of the next group to start), I jumped in with them and continued at their fast pace. Later I heard someone say we did the first 60 miles in 2 1/2 hours.

Riding with one such group, I started talking with a female who was asking about the Bike Friday. I mentioned that I rode with the front group that included Lance for 35 miles. She replied "Oh, then you started with the VIP group!" That’s how I learned that the first group consisted of specially invited people, including those who had each raised at least $1000 for the Cancer Research Foundation. So that's why I said I was lucky to have come late, because I got to ride with the VIP group without even having to feel guilty about it. I didn’t know that I had crashed the party!

The weather was perfect. We had a cloud cover that kept us from heating up too much, and it even sprinkled a few drops of rain a couple times. I continued the pattern of riding with a fast group until I got dropped on a hill. I’d then wait for the next group coming through and jump in with them. And there were plenty of fast groups, so I had ample opportunity to ride in fast pelotons.

At about mile 80, after having exhausted myself trying to keep up with these fast groups, I was on the verge of cramping in my calves. I only stopped once before then, to get more liquid. I was drinking fairly dilute powdered Gatorade, with a small amount of powdered milk for protein. I also had a banana the one time when I stopped. On that occasion, I stretched a bit. When I resumed, it was at an easier pace, and I was able to recover quite a bit. There was a final rest stop at mile 92, where I got more liquid, some orange slices, and a few pretzels. That was enough to get me to the finish, with no more threat of cramping.

When we arrived at the finish, I found out that we rode the 100 miles in about 4.75 hours! It was the draft from the fast riders that enabled such a fast time for me. At the finish, there was a wonderful music group playing old Beatles songs, especially Sergeant Pepper tunes. There was also free beer at the end, courtesy of a local micro-brewery. Chris finally picked my up, and after a long shower to clean up from the effects of the high humidity, I took a nap. Life was good that day!