I was working at the Abercrombie and Fitch in South Coast plaza at the time. Regarded as the flagship store for this brand and used by almost the entire soccer team as a means to make some side income. They let us work after hours, likely because we were all too ugly to work during store hours, which allowed us to make our 5pm and 6am practices as well as go to school. I had recently got in touch with a long time friend, Mitch, who was living in Long Beach. He informed me of a party that I “needed” to go to at all costs and any excuse was not going to be good enough. I had to work until 10pm on the Saturday night but Mitch informed me that this would not be an issue and I should arrive whenever I could. That night I worked feverishly so as to be able to leave early and at 9:30pm I was out of the store.

My vehicle at the time was a 1989 Suzuki Katana 600 motorcycle. A fantastic starter motorcycle for those that might be interested and a horrible decision for my father who purchased the thing for me. I jumped on the Katana and set off North on the 405 at a gut wrenching speed to ensure the party would not start without me. Mitch lived in the downtown area of Long Beach right off 2nd street which is the main ‘drag’ if you will. There is a main street, 2nd street, littered with bars and restaurants and behind them are countless one way streets lined with fortunate cars that found parking. The houses are all very large but usually split into duplexes or triplexes. I came to a skidding stop in front of his house and the atmosphere was relatively quiet when I arrived. I walked in wearing my leather jacket, hideously long abercrombie shorts, helmet under my arm, and a huge smile as I was looking forward to seeing Mitch for the first time since we jumped out of Nicky’s bedroom window when her father came home.

The party was bleak to say the least, and it was already a little after 10pm. But that doesn’t stop re-acquaintances and immediately I was given the tour which included a trip to the fridge. This was the first fridge I had ever seen where all the shelves had been pulled out, and the entire thing was completely filled with beer from top to bottom. I grabbed one and we all sat down in Mitch’s bedroom and chatted and sang and played guitar. It was a splendid moment I must say, Mitch had become an amazing guitarist, along with his companions, and the music in the air was just right for the beginning of an outrageous night. The house was small but people were filling it up quickly and our overly merry group entered the party to make our presence known.

The first few hours could be described as a loud commotion with rapid talking and intense conversations. The people I met spanned the generations and mental capacities that this great world has to offer. The fish tank became quite a heated topic of conversation. I believe I was really hung up on why my gold fish always died and these pristine creatures seemed to be enjoying their existence. Music debates filled the apartment and many a soap box was constructed and shattered within minutes of each other. Small animals seemed to own the lower 2 feet of the apartment and if anything was dropped or you mistakenly bent over, they took advantage.I was the only person wearing Abercrombie and Fitch and they made sure that I knew that.

I am not one to count or brag about my consumption, but under these circumstances, I drank at least 18 beers over 5 hours with an unknown quantity of shots and other things put in front of me. ..

So the night dragged on and people started to clear out. The remaining crew fought courageously to maintain the rhythm of conversation that had been present all night. Mitch and Mike started to ask me about my motorcycle which I was so pleased about as I DO love bragging about that. We went outside around 3:30am to scope the beast out. You can imagine myself tapping the top of it, giving it a few kicks with my foot, and puffing my chest out about how fast I had taken it and all this. Mike asked to ride it which I did not think was a good idea. BUT, I would happily give him a ride. There was only one helmet so I forced him to wear it since I could not take responsibility for his demise due to lack of head protection. With unprecedented precision and accuracy, I stormed off down the one way streets of down town Long Beach. I took Mike on what was the most reckless driving that Long Beach had ever seen by two men on a motorcycle. One way meant nothing and I enjoyed heading straight into head lights only to squeeze between them and the parked cars lining the street. Speeds of 70mph+ were reached in 20mph zones. After about 10 minutes, I decided I would need to give Mitch a go. We arrived back to the house. Mitch was bouncing up and down like the floor guards inside the house. I came to a sliding halt and waited for Mike to get off. Mike slowly dismounted, removed the helmet, and gave it to Mitch. He said nothing. He just shook slightly and stumbled into the house. Later, from other party goers, we heard that Mike had entered the house very slowly, and when queried as to what had happened, he just mumbled something and flailed his hands in the air. He then went into his room, locked the door, and was not to be seen again for another 20 hours.

After seeing this, Mitch was doubly excited. He was about to put the helmet on but then stopped. He told me “If you are not going to wear a helmet, I am not going to wear a helmet.” Now, I like to think I am a master of logic, and Mitch’s logic was so clear and concise to me that of course I could not argue his reasoning. We sped off down the roads, screaming and yelping, with the wind in our hair and not a care in the world. I repeated the same manoeuvres that I had done with Mike and the more I did them, the more Mitch screamed with excitement. We took a cruise down 2nd street, slowly trying to show off our situation even though there was not many people to entertain. At this point in time, I had recently rolled my ankle during soccer practice and was severely weakened on my left side. On 2nd street, we came to a stop sign. I came to a complete stop because I follow all laws. As I leaned on my left side, I could not support the bike and Mitch and I fell over. The bike crashed to the ground still idling. I screamed at Mitch that we needed to rectify the situation so we both got on one side and lifted the bike. We both pushed so well that it just fell over to the other side. Eventually we recovered but this sequence of events happened at least two other times at other stop signs.

I decided that we needed to raise the bar a bit so I headed to Pacific Coast Highway. A marvellous road with at least 3 lanes on each side and slow rolling curves as you pass through Long Beach. Making sure to take the corners on the inside despite traffic regulations, we were able to exceed 100mph without issue. In a sudden moment of clarity, Mitch decided he needed to relieve his bladder so I headed into one of the beach parking lots. On the way in there was a gate that was blocking half the entrance. I thought to myself what a stupid gate and just went around it. As I passed the gate, the bike lurched like a bucking gila monster and all of a sudden the Katana sounded like a fully bored Harley. No matter. We parked and took a piss on top of a wall. A homeless man approached us and we talked philosophy with him for a while. An angel in disguise I believe as I am sure that the Police were currently scanning the roads for a loose cannon that made screaming noises.

We left the beach and made a few quick hot laps around the neighbourhood, but this time, we suddenly had the power to turn on the lights in all the houses. I believe it had something to do with the new noise my bike was making. We paid no attention to our onlookers and found the house. We parked, walked into the house, Mitch pointed at the couch and then walked into his room and locked the door. I fiddled with the TV remote and put a movie on. It was the movie RAD which is a BMX movie from the 80′s which culminates in the main character swooning his lover by dancing on his bicycle, with her, at prom, to send me an angel. During this movie, a giant white fluffy dog entered the house as if he lived there which I do not think he did. He laid on the end of the couch and looked at me as if to suggest I should use him as a pillow, which I did.

I woke up 16 hours later, and was the first one up in the house. I had to be at Abercrombie in 40 minutes. I tried to say my good byes but all the doors were locked in fear or excitement, I do not know. I went outside and inspected my bike, the muffler appeared to have been attacked by a radio active bobcat that had sliced a 10 inch gash in it. I stormed off and made it to work just in time, just in time to be harassed by the Abercrombie people for wearing the same outdated clothes two days in a row.

(The gash was created from running over the things that pop your tire if you go backwards over them. Pffff…. useless.)

July 10th at Big Johns hostel on Sukhumvit in Bangkok. Apparently Sukuhumvit is the longest road in the world leading into Cambodia from here. Could be a lie.

Got duped by a guy in a golden Buddhist temple as he warmed us with talk of the ‘middle way’ and then moved on to talk of knoglee suits which apparently are the best. Then we get taken to this suit place which looked the same as the rest. Didn’t buy any but got a free pepsi out of it. But seriously, recruiting tourists at a Buddhist temple?

Have befriended an English chap and we plan to move up North. I have no cover for my bag and my mosquito repellant isn’t strong enough by at least 32.5%. Malaria cant be that bad.

Only nights here and saw the same tuk-tuk guy, Tony, and same cheating little thumb wrestling kid. Tony let me drive the tuk-tuk which I almost crashed but I was the fastest on the road.

Saw the entire town by boat. Maybe too much. A lot of walking. As expected.

Saw some girls open a pepsi bottle with their pussy and then pull 20 foot rope out of that same pussy, amongst other things. I even stuffed a ping pong ball into a girls vagina, it smelled like rubbing alcohol. She was going to shoot it into my mouth but I pussed out, no pun intended. Got a few drinks out of it and a few dick grabs.

Red bull out here is definitely full of speed. I want to try 3 all at once and see what happens.

I am fed up with Bangkok. It reminds me too much of Tijuana. Tonite we ride a sleeper train up north. Hopefully I am not robbed and can find a cheap bottle of wine. Cant wait until Ko Tao. Now where are my socks? Oh right, the night of muay thai fighting, the long walk there, met some English, got drunk, burger king and 5 people in a tuk-tuk to sum up the night.

It is likely that if you goto Bangkok you will do all these things whether you want to or not. So then Johnny and I got on this sleeper train to Phikolok which he had convinced me to go to. I had no idea what was there but he told me there were some wonderful ruins and temples there and was not as well touristed as other places so I agreed as I rarely say no to anything. A sleeper train, I have aluded to before in other entries, but are these 30 car trains that have bunks up and down each side that move very slowly through the country side and stop a hundred times through out the night and your main fear is that a herd of small children do not run onto the train at one of these stops wielding clay knives sharp enough to rake an eye out and slit backpacks while they release chickens in the air to promote confusion. I am not overly tall at about 1.8 meters but these beds are designed for Thai people. It would be one thing if I was much taller but my bed was only about 10 centimeters shorter than I was so I was forced to sleep in a very awkward position which kept my legs bent and half leaned over while my back was twisted and one of my arms hugging my bottle of wine and backpack at the same time. At 4:30 am I was abruptly woken up by Johnny and we got off at our town with only two other people who were not very friendly. I immediately had this incredibly debilitating limp and all I could think of was that I had slept on my hip funny. I struggled on as it is the backpacker code to leave the wounded and slow behind. The town we had come to, Phikolok, was not a tourist town at all, in fact it was barely a town. There was no one out to rob us or say anything to and we basically wandered in a direction looking for accommodation. Ghost town. We found a place, payed our $1.75 for a double room and immediately both laid down to goto bed. And here is where my night began…

The hostel itself was lovely and very well decorated. All sorts of drapes with dragons on it and Buddhist symbols and knick knacks. The room was the same and had one large double bed with a large floor to ceiling window with a small patio that hung over onto the alley outside. This alley must have been the main through way for the town because even at 4:45 in the morning, people were flying up and down this alley and like all good countries outside of the U.S., no one uses mufflers. Johnny went to sleep immediately but I just laid there sweating in the 40+ degree heat wincing in pain as my aching hip would go from severely hurting to intolerably hurting. In this sort of heat you must have the window open which invited mosquitoes. I covered myself several times in repellent but I would lay still and feel it start to melt and then freak out as I thought it was a mosquito. That buzz you hear as one approaches your ear is bone rattling. I would watch in the shadows as one would land on Johnny, spend a good five minutes sucking his blood, and then struggle to fly off and I couldn’t understand how he was not affected. Here was my journal entry during this time…

From the journal…
July 12th. At London hostel giving up on sleep in Phikolok.

I don’t know if I have insomnia but when it is this hot, with a hard bed, and a window to the road, it just is not possible. Currently have 1 hour of sleep in 38 hours. Geckos crawl all around me and mosquitos just wait for the lotion to be sweated off. Very good sting on left thigh right now, wonder if I now have malaria? My leg hurts bad and I don’t know why and my throat is really soar. No wonder those punk kids in Bangkok were trying to make me buys halls medicine. Now whos laughing Luke? 2 hours until air conditioning seats. I will try my hardest to guarantee air-con room from now on, why not?

I am sure this sounds negative but the learning moves on. I wish I could dream inconscient dream right now. So thirsty…

I would get up and try to keep myself busy by taking some really nasty trips to the bathroom. The Thais have the bathroom sorted out. It is always a hole in the ground with foot holds on the side, you sit down and let loose. Your butt cheeks are in optimal position to not receive and particulate and that position promotes the body to get rid of more than you would sitting on a toilet. The toilets there always have a fancy way of providing water into a bucket that you use to flush. Water will trickle off the roof collected from cow sweat, hit a bamboo bucket held up by a monkey used only for this reason, who tips the bucket into a beaker lighting a torch which pops a balloon, that then scares a bird to fly over and hit a domino that cascades into others as it turns some faucet on to fill up your bucket. That night, I watched all that happen maybe 5 times. Be sure to bring toilet paper to Thailand if that is your thing.

I tried to go back to bed and lay there. I harnessed my chi and allowed for any movement on my skin to just go on and I succumbed to malaria if that was my fate. My hip hurt so bad that I had to whimper. I know that sounds rather wimpy, but I had no alternative. I felt depression for the first time in my life and there was nothing I could do about it. The time was moving in reverse and I saw no end in sight. It was too hot, I was hurting too much, and I was in a place I did not want to be. And on top of it I had to watch Johnny sleep happily and listen to him snore to make sure if my sleep was to happen, it would be with more noise than the raging vehicles outside.

In the end I never slept, I wiped my tears and limped the next two days and then my hip was magically restored just in time for some intense Takrar action. I did find out that the fan had two more speed settings which would have helped immensely and I also believe that this night was the first night that caused my hip problems that I have today which I will have to write about in another entry.

Charlie, this story is dedicated to you as I can half sympathize with your nights in Istanbul. Thanks again for the good times in Turkey!

I was at my good friend Dustin’s house, which we called the Villa since his surname was ‘Villa’ plus another eight syllables. During high school we spent many a night partying, hanging out, playing games, being lazy, and finding trouble at the Villa. The convenient location and amazing parental units (Thanks Debby and Tom!) never went to waste. This particular Saturday night was not a special night but there were probably 12 people in the house playing games and talking and generally keeping themselves entertained.

Early in the night Dustin and I were playing Tetris 64 I believe. We would play in these ridiculous hour long games playing at a speed that was incomprehensible to our onlookers and impressive enough to make them watch Tetris for an hour. During the game I remember hearing one of the girls behind me say something like “OH MY GOD! I just saw the scream (like the movie) mask outside!” We all laughed it off and said she was crazy, and she probably was, and continued doing what we were doing.

Maybe an hour later Dustin starts telling me about some video he got online which was a video of somebody getting their head shot off up close. We started arguing about the fact if it was real or not and eventually we go up stairs to his room to take a look at the video. Zak and Scott follow me and Dustin into the room to watch. Just to add some details to the situation; Dustin is a 6′ 9″ Jewish white guy. Zak is Dustin’s brother who was many years younger than us but bigger than the rest of us and just crazy enough where we liked having him around. Scott was (probably still is) a very well trained army guy who was recently back from some deadly mission. So we are watching the movie over and over again and pausing it at the most gory parts and staring at the screen very close trying to figure out if there is a change in the video or something that would prove it to be fake.

CLICK! The lights turn out and the entire house goes completely black. The kind of black that is darker than the backs of your eye lids. Immediately I could hear gun shots down stairs, girls screaming, and guys shouting, and people being thrown intot hte walls or something similar. Luke, with all his courage and bravery decides the best option is to stay still and move against the side wall of Dustin’s room in an attempt to camaflauge himself in the dark. I had no idea what Zak, Scott, or Dustin did. The commotion down stairs starts to be less frequent and eventually all is silent. A gun shot every now and then goes off followed by a scream. Luke is pressed firmly against the wall and trying to control his breathing and I remember thinking that my breathing sounded So loud. Then I started to hear foot steps walking up stairs. No voices. Just slow and deliberate footsteps. I was on the wall adjacent to the door way and with my back right up against the wall if I turned my head completely to the left I would see whoever would walk into the room. The plan when that happened was never really properly thought out however.

I stayed as still as I possibly could. I reduced my breathing as much as possible but this only made me breath louder I felt. My eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dark and I realized my plan to be camaflaged was just stupid. And then the footsteps stopped outside the door. This made my breathing even louder I think and I am sure they heard the breathing. Then a head peered in the doorway wearing some sort of mask. First it looked forward, then it turned to the left (away from me), and then it turned to the rigth staring straight at me. Then the head pulled back and for a moment I thought I had escaped. Then all of a sudden the figure came into the room and put me in a headlock and bent me over backwards and said “Who is this?” I said “It’s Luke” in a somewhat childish voice. Then the person said “This is Brent and Brandon. We are playing a trick on you guys.” I knew immediately who they were and a huge smile grew on my face. I was overwhelmed with the situation and was pretty much just happy that nothing else had happened. I congratulated them on their good work and was truely impressed with the complexity of their “joke.” They asked me if anyone else was up stairs and I said I dont know and I also wwarned them that likely everyone had claled the cops by now. With the lights still off I lead the intruders into the upstairs bathroom where I thought Zak and Scott had gone. Right when I walked into the bathroom I was slammed into another headlock and bent over backwards and before I could say anything, the lights turned on. That snapshot in time needs to be documented somehow. Maybe Zak can draw a picture. Scott had bent me over backwards putting some hardcore military move on me and Zak was coming down on me with a 9 inch knife. (He always had many knives laying around). And the intruders were behind all this just watching. So basically had the lights not turened on, I could have been stabbed by “my own team.” For that moment I have thanked every god that our species has come up with.

Dustin had some how got out of the house in three bounds with his long lanky white legs. The people down stairs received a barrage of paintball gun shots to the face (no paintballs were used) while some of the guys were roughed up a little bit. Mainly Sven since the intruders did not really like him. In the end, the girls were crying and the guys were pissed. I was chatting with the intruders asking them how they did it and having a general laugh. The scream mask was used to scope out the “joint” before hand and then they cut the breakers and entered from the back door. Apparently they had done this before but this was the biggest one. Some 6 people had called the cops and they were pretty mucht their immediately. All the guns and gear were confiscated. However the police were the parents of some of the intruders and I am sure they got the gear back.

I have many other fearful moments, but at the point in time when I was listening to the footsteps slowly ascend the steps, I know no other time when I had more fear building in my body. I am slightly ashamed for not pulling some ninja tactics and in hind sight, I should have just climbed out the window or at least hid in the corner of the room or under the bed or anything other than standing against the wall. Oh well, back to ninja camp for me.

The Way of Planet Ultra
Planet Ultra is a state of mind, a way of life, a place to seek solace and inspiration, to take refuge, to find insight and inspiration. It is both terra firma and terra incognito, myth and mystery, muscle and mind. We live with the motto “by endurance we conquer.”

Very applicable to many situations.

So prior to doing this ride I was scoping out blogs to get an idea of what I was about to do. This one gives a hilarious account of the ride. and although it made me laugh, I was half laughing from fear of this monster I was about to try and tame. This other site gives a more objective version of the ride but is not nearly as hilarious but it does show some interesting graphs that give you an idea of how much climbing is going to be involved.

Well let me help the future Mulholland challengers as well…

Pre-Race Preparation.

1. This race is hard. In fact, it is not a race as I learned early on at about mile 14. It’s a race of survival, just looking to make it to the end. So train before hand or you will be ridiculed by all these old guys who dominate this race as you bail out. I had ridden one 80 miler before hand with at least 100 milesa week riding for a few months. I still felt unprepared.
2. Bring full fingered gloves with a jacket. The first 30 or so minutes through the early morning canyons were agony with 41 degree temperatures. Its worth the very little extra weight.
3. Seat bag had tube, 2 CO2 and adapter, multi-tool (which I got justin to carry, sucker)
4. Get the compact crank setup. All the good riders had em, theres no reason not to. $140 bucks right now at performance bikes.

During The Race

1. Don’t drink their “Sustain” powder, tastes like shit and makes you feel like your gonna yak on mile 93. Just go with the Gatorade.
2. Take the anti lactic acid pills, just do it. I took 5 before we started and another 5 at mile 70.
3. Don’t ride alone. Always have someone there to push you or succomb to the mountain mind games.
4. I carried two water bottles. They recommended bringing a camel pack on the website but we have already ignored their request to change our gears so why bow to the water demands as well?
5. In my jersey pockets I had 5 lactic acid pills, 2 cliff bars which I didn’t eat, two gel blocks bags, extra tube, camera which I got X to carry, and a banana in the beginning. I would pick up granola bars at each stop and eat them on the way as well.
6. Drink more water than you think you need, you know your dehydrated when you are sweating salt crystals.

Ride Description
I didnt have a computer, I kneed it off one ride and have never replaced it. So this account wont give you the mile markers you are looking for but the sites I mentioned above do a good job of that.

We started at 6:32am and it was extremely cold. I opted to not bring arm or leg warmers for heat and weight reasons. Uustin, Xavier, and my self were in the 5% of people who came as poorly prepared as we did. Going through Las Virgenes road is relatively painless and most people were not going really that fast. The hill is short and easy and then you get a fantastic down hill looking over at the Pacific Ocean as the warm air hits you coming from the west providing only a small relief to my numb fingers.

You go south on PCH and we were pushing pretty hard. I considered conserving for the unknown hills I knew wer coming but competition brings out funny decisions in a person. A left turn onto Topanga Canyon and this horrible wind just smacked us in the face lowering my moral as we trudged up this slow ascent. The wind eventually subsides as we got deeper into the canyon. Apparently on the way up Topanga a guy got knocked down by someone who got a flat tire. I would have cried if that happened to me.

The first hill was a slow steady grade and I felt really good at this point and went up it quite easily. Apparently Xavier cramped at this point mysteriously. The first sticker stop (you have to collect five stickers through the race) is about 30 miles in and a welcome relief. I felt comically delirious at each of the sticker stops. From here there are just a load more hills, none are particularly difficult until you get to Cotharin. Here is where I left my impact racing brethren and surged forward to not see them again for about 8 hours. This hill was brutal and the sun just started to come out.

Eventually you get to the top and the road turns really bad with huge cracks all over it. Going down hill and hitting these things at 50 km/h and not getting a punctured tire is just ridiculous. I saw several guys pulled over on the way down, one apparently broke his steering tube and another guy went down hard requesting that he could ride to the “clinic” in Malibu. I heard of three bad crashes through out the day. at the bottom you hit PCH and then you go south again. Again we moved at pace but riding PCH with speed gazing out over the horizon is an activity everybody should do in their lifetime. Eventually we arrived at Decker Canyon and we began the hardest hill of the race. It began with 18% and probably averaged 10-12% and went on for some 8 miles. I rode well and found a group of Orange County’ians to motivate me to get to the top. I got to the top and at the sticker stop I was laughing because I really didn’t think I should have been able to climb that hill.

Next came some slow rollers through the interior peaks of the Santa Monica mountains. Beautiful scenery and on a truly gorgeous day as well. I didn’t find this section so bad as the hills never got to steep but I did have to do it on my own. At the second to last sticker spot you are at mile 79 r something. You are told that the next and last sticker spot is not that far away. But you have to go up Stunt road. At mile 90 the road goes at steady 8% grade for 4 miles. The key here is the mile 90 factor, not the hardest hill normally but different story after the day you have just had. I had to stop 2 times on the way up. I believe for over heating reasons as I felt a little dizzy. You get to the top and they were the friendliest sticker spot yet as they pretty much carried you to a chair, fed you a bottle and served you homemade chocolate chip cookies.

From here you have 1.5 miles of pretty tough climbing left and your home free. This was the one part I almost cramped on and i attribute it to the homemade chocolate chip cookie. A great downhill looking over Calabassas is next and then you have an annoying up hill on Las Virgenes to go back to the hotel where the race began and start.

Personal Reflection

This race is not attempted by young people for some reason. It is all 30+ year olds with many well over 40. My cohorts and I were the only youngsters I saw although Xavier and Justin said they sighted a 20 something rider and a few youngsters who likely did not finish the race. The only explanation for this is because young people now-a-days are bread not to be masochistic. I think the older mentality is summed up through the quote I started this blog with.

After 8 hours and 36 minutes the ride was over. For the last 2-3 hours the theme of the ride was “Just make it stop” and the thought of laying down brought me to the finish. In the end, I have no regrets and am extremely happy with my performance. I would do it again, only after the big bear climb and maybe riding from LA to SF.

Whats next, I am thinking of velodrome racing.