Biking for the Inyo

I feel like my childhood was pretty similar to a lot of kids in the 1990s; Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Saturday morning cartoons, pillow forts, and getting bullied by my siblings were regular parts of my life in the last decade of the last millennium. However, I do feel like my upbringing-- and the majority of my life, really-- were uniquely special because of where I lived. 

Looking north from the valley floor, April 2014

The Owens Valley is a place near and dear to me, and though I've talked about it at length before in other posts it deserves praise at every opportunity. It lays between the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada and the western side of the Inyo Mountains in Inyo County. Despite being one of the largest counties in California, it only contains about 2% privately owned land with the rest being split between the National Park Service, The Forest Service, Bureau of Land Management, and the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. It's a beautiful, harsh high desert environment that has been host to Native peoples for thousands of years and unique geology and ecology since time immemorial. Scars exist on the landscape from attempts to extract resources, from water to minerals, but despite the damage done by colonizers in the past Inyo County and the Owens Valley remain a natural wonder. 

The issue these days, though, is the same as it's been for the last couple hundred years. People look to take what the land can offer. The Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, or LADWP, still extracts water from the valley floor. Mining companies still look to secure contracts to extract gold, silver, and lead from the ground, promising jobs in exchange for environmental degradation and invasion of traditional Native lands. I've been fortunate enough to see the Owens River go from a dried swath of desert to a lush, green sea of life along the valley floor. Seeing the rains from the early part of the decade flood the Owens Lake, and seeing the water reflect the mountainsides for the first time since LADWP drained the lake in 1913, is something people might never see again. I've witnessed what nature can reclaim, and what it can bring with proper help from agencies looking to help it. 

Friends of the Inyo is one such agency. They've played a role in stewardship and policy to help protect and serve the Inyo National Forest and the areas within Inyo and Mono counties. Their mission is "to protect and care for the land and water of the Eastern Sierra" which means a lot to me. 

Now, a brief note about my history with bikes:

Like a lot of kids, I had bikes growing up. At one point early in high school I decided to take my bike down Mazourka Canyon Road, outside of my hometown of Independence. The bike itself was cobbled together with parts from other bikes, and even though it wasn't much to look at it did what it was supposed to well enough. That is, until, after riding to the end of the pavement five miles away in 105 degree desert summer heat, the rear tire went flat. Fortunately for me, after walking for awhile I got a ride from some of my friends dads who were driving through for work, so I only got a little sunburned instead of mummified and dead. Much later, in my 20s, I'd ridden a route with some friends on an old Schwinn Traveller with a warped rear wheel. That day lead me to running since running shoes are cheaper than a bike, but since then I've gotten back into riding bikes. I now go farther and faster than before-- thanks in no small part to running for so many years now-- and I've decided to do something worthwhile with my new cycling abilities.

This April I'm planning to go to Las Vegas to ride the Tour de Summerlin. The team I'm on, NevCali Riders, is riding for a variety of causes, and I'm fundraising in support of Friends of the Inyo. I hope to raise funds for the organization and awareness of what they do and represent. If you can donate, let me know! I hope you help support the cause to respect and protect Payahuunadü. 

My heart, my little bike shorts, my beefy legs, and I would greatly appreciate it if you can.

The Dregs

I've said before that I am a fan of good coffee. Very little compares to a well made cup of high quality coffee on a cool, quiet morning, though I do see the value of a cup of cheap coffee because I'm not the snob I used to be. Still, I try to buy good coffee when I can; if I'm able to support organic farming and fair trade coffee then, for the sake of the people producing my daily caffeine fix and the land that grows it, I'll do it.

Because I make my coffee the same way every day-- two tablespoons of ground coffee for every cup, and usually three cups between my wife and me-- sometimes I'll end up with just a little extra left at the bottom of the bag. Normally I'd use the last bit in a bag of coffee with grounds from the new bag since I'd be drinking it eventually anyway. Some people just dump the remainder into a new bag of coffee, and apparently some people throw it away-- which is wild to me. 

At some point, though, I decided to take the little bit of coffee I had left in a bag and saved it in a jar. Over the course of weeks I'd try different brands and roasts of coffee, and once a bag was almost through I'd take the little bit left in the bag and add it to the jar. Eventually enough coffee ended up in the jar to make a full pot of coffee.

I call it the dregs. 

Some folks during the early months of covid had "infinity bottle" projects, and I'm no exception. The concept is, essentially, that you take a small amount of whiskey (or any spirit, really) from bottles you enjoyed and blend them together in what ends up being a highly custom blended whiskey (though it's kind of a glorified and more notated Kings Cup). As whiskey is added, the flavor and character of the contents changes, and it becomes a new experience over time. This, along with not wanting to waste perfectly good coffee, was the reason I stared saving the little remainders of coffee in a jar; I wanted a unique cup of coffee that also wasn't so wasteful. 

However, unlike whiskey, coffee gets stale and loses flavor over time. It's why most coffee is nitrogen packed or vacuum sealed, so mixing old ground coffee in an old repurposed pasta jar isn't going to yield the same sensory experience as, say, blending a 12 year old Islay Scotch with a quality Kentucky bourbon. You won't find the dregs of whatever mix of coffee I got on sale served in a high end cafe in Paris. 

Here's the thing, though; I ain't picky. I appreciate carefully crafted artisan roasted coffee grown in small family farms served in hand crafted ceramic ware in high end coffee shops, but if I have a cup of three-hour old Farmer Brothers hotel lobby coffee in front of me I'll drink it too. If I have a mix of old coffees from the last couple months, and haven't gone to the store to get more coffee yet, I'm more than happy to see how the dregs is tasting. It caffeinates, it isn't wasted, and it has yet to taste too bad, so it's a win-win-win in my book. 

Yesterday I hand ground some organic, fair trade beans and brewed it in a press. Today I'm enjoying the dregs from the coffee pot, and I appreciate them both for what they are.