My walk last night wasn’t particularly spectacular. It was long – a rainy day meant the bulk of my steps came during my evening walk (a little over three miles worth). I got lucky and caught a perfect break in the weather – not a drop of rain, though I was dressed for it just in case. The only notable things were the loud fight in one of the homeless encampments next to my route (Alli and I opted for a detour…) and my Fitbit’s heart rate sensor kept going flaky on me – an increasingly common trend of my weather-beaten Charge 4. But other than that, it was just another walk.

Oh, and it marked the 365^th consecutive day I’ve gotten at least 10,000 steps.

That’s a milestone that I find both awe-inspiring and mundane. Awe-inspiring because I have done this now for a year – come rain, come frigid temperatures, traveling, working two and three jobs, illnesses (oh yeah, I got covid this year, too!), everything that has happened in the course of a year and I still managed to get at least 10,000 steps in every. Single. Day.

But it’s a bit of a mundane milestone because, when I set out to do this – and you’d best believe this was a deliberate effort – my goal was simple: wake up every day with the knowledge that I would get 10,000 steps in. Not “I might get my steps in.” Not “I hope to…” No, just an ingrained knowledge that as sure as I got out of bed, I was going to get 10,000 steps in.

So, when I went to my log and typed in “11237” for my steps yesterday it felt… unremarkable. After all, I’d done 11,507 the day before, and almost 16 thousand steps the day before that… But it was remarkable – 11 thousand steps is not insignificant, and 10,000 steps for a year is an achievement!

A few years ago when I started walking for health – before we got Alli and I convinced myself I was walking for her – I remember walking across the valley floor at Armstrong Woods. It was late afternoon and I was crisscrossing the flat trails in the dappled light through the redwoods and I thought first how lucky I was to just be there among those majestic trees. And then I thought how lucky I was to be able simply walk there. I don’t think I was at my heaviest at that point, but I was pretty close and I found myself in tears because I was so grateful my body was holding up as well as it had.

At the time I had a gym membership, but I had more excuses for not going than I had actual attendance figures. But walking? In a goddamn redwood forest? That I could do. And I did. Because I could. Because I owed it to my body that put up with my neglect.

There’s a recurring reminder I set probably just after that walk to “Get 3 10,000 step days in a week!” I don’t remember when I wrote it, but I remember at the time that was a very ambitious goal – one I didn’t often hit!

One year of 10,000+ step days.

I mentioned I keep a log of my steps, and it’s yielded some interesting stats for this period:

• 365: number of consecutive 10,000 step days (as already stated).
• 2,309: number of miles walked over that period.
• 4,953,094: total number of steps taken over that period (that boggles my mind).
• 41,180: highest number of steps in one day during that period (that was my Mount Tam hike in September!).
• 10,082: the fewest steps in a day during that period.
• 39.8: the number of pounds I’ve lost since starting this quest.

It’s been quite a year! I absolutely intend on continuing as long as I can. In a few days I’ll celebrate the year anniversary of consecutively meeting my other metrics (steps, floors, distance, calories, and “zone minutes”). This has been phenomenal for my health and I am only going to keep working on it!

Here’s to the next year!

The camp chair didn’t make the cut. Nor did the little table. For that matter, I’m leaving my hammock and back up camp stove.

I’m not really complaining, mind you. The aluminum paniers on my bike are cavernous and swallow enough equipment to make a pretty comfortable camp situation without having to go all ultra-light backpacking. My packing list started as a sprawling collection of “Would Be Nice” and eventually gets whittled down to “What will fit.”

Saturday my friend Terry and I are embarking on a nine-day motorcycle trip out through southern Nevada to Zion National Park and Capitol Reef State Park, and numerous other points of interest. It’s a trip many months in the making, but naturally you’ve got all the time in the world right up until you’re scrambling to put the final touches in place before it’s kickstand-up and we’re away.

The guiding principle of packing is trying to find that delicate balance between bringing too much and too little. That hammock? I’ve brought it on my last two road trips but haven’t actually used it in the field. It’s all about sorting the “Need Its” from the “Nice to Haves.”

But after a year where we all pared life down to a pretty spare version of “Need It,” it’s understandable that we all want to throw in a few “Nice to Haves.” I mentioned our itinerary to the bartender I worked with on Saturday whose regular job involved dropping off rented Sprinter camper vans to clients all across the West. He mentioned that people are out and about in droves these days – that jibes with the insane demand for campground reservations we encountered. But, seriously, after a year cooped up, who isn’t ready to get out there?

My tool kit is a lot more, well, useful this time around. I’m embarrassed to say that in trips past on this bike I’ve carried my requisite tire plugging kit and air compressor and then a hodge podge of screwdrivers and sockets I hoped I’d never have to actually use (you can take anything apart with a 10- and 12mm socket, right?). Getting back in touch with working on my bike myself has helped me build an extremely useful tool kit… that I still hope I don’t have to use…. But if I do I at least know what I’m doing.

It’s funny, despite having gone to grad school in Utah, I’ve traveled very little in the arid southern part of the state (broke grad school students, don’t you know). In fact, the only other time I’ve been down to that area was 25 years ago. Exactly 25 years ago I ventured out with my uncle Chuck on another epic motorcycle trip that took us as far east as Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills. The return leg followed the Colorado river down from Estes Park, Colorado down to Arches National Park outside of Moab. I remember our itinerary had us continue south to some ferry crossing on the river before heading home, but the unrelenting triple digit temperatures made us curtail our plans and aim a more direct path home to more reasonable temperatures.

This week one of those infamous “Heat Dome” phenomena of high pressure has parked itself over the southwest, with meteorologists predicting record-breaking temperatures all week, and I can’t help but think of the sweltering afternoon in Moab when we decided it was just too damn hot.

Three years ago, I thought it might not be that bad if I stay a night in Death Valley in early July. And, really, the Wildrose campground at 4,000 feet was reasonable at 96 degrees. It was just the 113-degree furnace I rode across for hours that did the damage.

Long pants didn’t make the cut. I know, I know, it could get cold at night. But I also know from that Death Valley stop that my tent has pretty lousy cross-ventilation; I’m not worried about getting cold even if the heat dome is supposed to start subsiding just as we start our first leg through the Sierras.

One of the complications of packing for this trip is anticipating some of the improvisations we may have to make to deal with the crowds. We weren’t able to get reservations for our ideal spots, so we’re going to have a few nights in “dispersed” campsites. If you’re not familiar with that term “dispersed” camping it means there are no amenities. Bathroom? Nope. Potable water? Nope. So, while I won’t need the 5L water cube the first couple nights, I need to leave room for when we’re going to rely on the water we bring in.

But that’s the nature of the adventure. Pare the list down to what you can fit on a motorcycle, point yourself out to places I’ve never been to and adjust to whatever comes.

Oh, and those aforementioned aluminum panniers? They actually make a pretty good chair and table in and of themselves.

PS: As always I’m bringing my Spot locator beacon in case things go completely pear-shaped. But it has a neat feature that lets me “check in” by sending an email with a link to a map showing my location to a pre-set list of email addresses. If you’re curious, drop me a line with your email address and I’ll add you to the list for the trip (Also, the locator beacon is named “Doug.” So you’ll get an email from “Doug.”).

PPS: I’m hoping to be able to post some updates and pictures from the road. I think I have these grand intentions every time and I never manage to get anything posted. But we’ll see! Stay tuned!

Right up front, last weekend caught me off guard. That whole “Monday isn’t really a Monday thing” completely threw off my new-found flow and I never got my footing. Not to mention how the week finished, but we’ll get there… As a result, no posts.

This week is different, though. Starting with not one selfie, but several! If I haven’t mentioned it already I moonlight as a bartender for Elaine Bell Catering. They’re amazing, and I’m not saying that because I’ve worked there for the last five years.

As I look at the website now, there’s a picture of me from the back. I remember that gig vividly for a few reasons, and I’m pretty sure I was making one of many Dark and Stormys in that picture.

But I digress…

Let me say, cater bartending is a lot different than working behind a bar. I’ve only done the latter once, so I can’t speak too much to that experience, but I can say I don’t know of any bars where the bartender first hauls everything out, sets the bar (or bars) up, serves for hours, then breaks it all down at the end of the night. Honestly, catering is a young person’s game and any given gig is an exhausting marathon and once or twice a week is enough. I had four gigs this week. But I loved it. I really did.

Having said that, I’m exhausted and so many things hurt in different ways.

But I’ve got selfies! And stories!

Let’s start with Thursday and the only non-wedding (or wedding-adjacent) gig of the lot! I didn’t get that gig until just the night before when they asked if I could show up at Viansa Sonoma winery as quickly as possible after I finished my day job. Viansa Sonoma sits above the wetlands south of the city of Sonoma. A little further down 121 and you’ll pass Sonoma Raceway. The view is gorgeous and that warm Thursday night the wind held off and it was a perfect sunset. It was a retirement dinner for a prominent person at the Raceway, and as Sonoma and Napa notables sipped wine on the patio, then dined as the sun set and the swallows darted and dived for their own meals I snapped a selfie with their warthog statue in a rare free moment.

Friday brought a new, unique event. I worked a few events in 2020, but the lockdown gutted the wedding scene for the most part. There were a few exceptions – one actually took place at Viansa very early in, when we weren’t fully locked down, but the shifting parameters meant the couple had to pare their guest list from 250 to just 20.

Similarly, I worked a wedding at a private residence in Napa where the guest count was whittled down to 25. A year later, that same couple decided to have the reception they couldn’t have last year. One of the families owned a facility out by the Cutting Wharf on the Napa river and they transformed an out building into the perfect party barn. I love working at some of the beautiful wineries, but these gigs where we take a place you would never think of as a party spot and turn it into something magical are really special. Of course, it takes a lot of work and I didn’t get a chance to take a proper selfie. Instead you get this shot of the bar before we actually set up, complete with my big ol’ bar bag on top. The family remembered me from the wedding the year before and we shared smiles and even hugs before getting down to the task at hand: having a proper celebration they couldn’t have last year.

Unlike most gigs, we ended up switching from glassware to plastic and leaving the bar to them. As the wind whipped off the river and we packed the truck, I realized I was halfway through my marathon. My back was hurting, sure, but it was manageable. I knew Sunday’s gig would be a grind – it’s the nature of that particular venue – but if Saturday’s wedding was anything like the events on Thursday and Friday I’d be fine.

Dear reader, it was not fine.

I’ll start by saying it came off fine and the guests really and truly had an amazing time. The venue was a sprawling private residence nestled in the folds of the hills west of Sonoma. Stepped hills dotted with mature redwood trees, verdant hydrangeas, and winding paths leading to various gardens, the property was an unreal sanctuary. Of course, some of those same features make staging an event more than a little onerous. Cocktail hour began at the top of the property while our kitchen was set up way down at the bottom. The narrow paths and uneven slate stairs made footing rough, but downright treacherous when hauling, say, racks of glasses or cases of wine.

Once we transitioned to the dinner bar and we were able to catch our breath and get into a rhythm, things got a little easier. It was made even better by the phenomenal band! Guitar, bass, drums, sax, and three singers, they belted out stirring renditions of Motown classics, but also provided new takes on contemporary tracks on my imaginary Wedding Music Bingo card – they killed Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud” in such a way that that ginger should just renounce the song to their version. (Incidentally, the band was Hip Service. I’m sure they weren’t cheap, but, holy cow… I’ve seen many, many wedding bands and they were truly memorable.)

Breakdown rekindled a lot of the same hazards we encountered during set up… only in the dark. But with everything broken down I hiked down the long driveway to the parking area grateful I brought a good flashlight, and glad my back wasn’t any worse for wear – my legs, however, took a beating that night as I wholeheartedly embraced lifting with my legs to save my back. #legday.

Sunday dawned with the final stretch! I knew it would be a grind, though – any event at the beautiful Campovida winery in Hopland inevitably is. While specific setup varies from event to event, they’re always spread out through the gardens and among the various buildings on the site. At ten hours, it was also the longest stretch of the group. However, there were four of us tending bar and I’ve worked the site many times over the years. I was confident we’d finish strong.

And, really, we did! It was a grind – finishing with almost 20k steps for the night. An insistent and unceasing wind made things a little tougher than they might otherwise have been, but by the time the DJ ended his set and the guests headed to the after party, we were already well on our way to getting everything back on the truck. Walking back through the dark gardens to the parking lot, I was exhausted. I didn’t get back to Akilah’s until nearly two in the morning. I crashed on the couch with Alli curled up on my feet.

This morning I was back at my regular Day Job with my selfies and aches as reminders of a busy, busy weekend.

With the world opening up again as vaccination rates rise it’s clear couples are making up for lost time and plans deferred. It’s going to be a busy summer, and that’s fine by me. These jobs are tiring, sure, but so is a good hike. And I love my brief interactions with people – whether it’s making the perfect Old Fashioned, or dropping a cherry into a Shirley Temple for someone not drinking, the actual tending of the bar, serving of the drinks, and interactions with people having one of the great nights of their lives makes the whole thing worth it.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go stretch out my back….