Introducing Matthew and Jordan Frisbie

The Father of the Groom's Wedding Speech

I’d like to tell a love story.  After all we’re at a wedding, right?

This love story starts in 1995, when we moved to a new house on a full-acre lot.  The house itself was surrounded by mature silver maples while the rest of the lot was a vast lawn.  All I could think about the next spring was, “How am I going mow all this grass?”

Hmm, those pants might be a little tight?

“I wouldn’t worry so much about the grass, honey,” Mona told me.  “Did you see the little forest of maple seedlings you’ve got growing in the gutters?”  And sure enough, the gutters were completely stuffed with decomposing helicopter seeds, some of which had sprouted and were standing almost a foot tall.  As I cleaned the gutters, I was inspired to plant a dozen of the seedlings in the corner of the lot.  Planted in a half circle, I thought, I would bend the seedlings as they grew to create a natural arched enclosure – a gazebo made of Silver Maples.  Wouldn’t that be cool?

Rehearsal dinner at the Athena

While I discovered Silver Maples are not well suited for topiaries, over the next fifteen years the trees grew bushy and dense anyway.  When we hung a large hammock between two tree trunks, it was the perfect spot for an afternoon nap.  Really magical.

So magical, I once remarked to Matt that if he ever wanted a girl to fall in love with him, all he needed to do was invite her for a swing in the hammock.

So let’s skip forward -- it’s the spring of Matt’s senior year at the University of Illinois.  “I-L-L!”

[Wait for response: “INI”]

A Field Museum reception

So now it’s the spring of Matt’s senior year and we realize we’ve never been to Mom’s Weekend.  We’d attended dozens of football games to watch Matt and Lauren in the Matching Illini.  I’d danced on the field at half-time on Dad’s Day.  Imagine 300 band dads line dancing, it’s a disaster.  I discovered my performance improved if I skipped practice.

But we never attended Mom’s Weekend.  Probably because the local hotels jack up the rates, $300/night with a two-night minimum.  So despite the early April weather, we decided to tent camp at a local RV park.  D&W RV Park just off the Market Street exit.  It’s a bargain at $25/night, but the tent sites are too close to the interstate and too far from the bathroom.  You may have noticed this place as you drove by on 57.  It’s the one with the tent campers peeing behind the dumpster.  

After we set up our tent and filled it with sleeping bags, pads and extra blankets, we headed over to the bar to meet Matt.  A bar because Mom’s Weekend is all about drinking – don’t know why.  Moms pack the bars and party hard.  So let me get this straight?  For Dad’s Day, we dance and Mom’s Weekend, we drink?  Who organized this?

When we arrive, the party is in full swing.  As we look for a place to sit, this attractive girl appears.  She is quite helpful.  Drags over some chairs.  Makes sure we are comfortable.  Her name is Jordan.  Really nice.

After several rounds, the moms are spilling pitchers, yelling at the hockey game and looking for a sturdy table to dance on.  I call to Matt, “When we gonna play beer pong?”

The sisters

As Matt’s entry into the Engineering Open House, he submitted “Exploring the Versatility of Arduino: Beer Pong Robot and VU Meter Table.”  Matt had designed and built an 8x4 foot beer pong table illuminated by music activated lights embedded in the table surface.  And at one end of the table was a robotic arm that could neatly arc a ping pong ball into a beer cup with deadly accuracy.  Scholarship aside, I think it just an excuse to build the coolest beer pong table on campus and we wanted to play.

The proud parents

As we walked to Matt’s place to play beer pong on Matt’s custom Robotic Computerized Light Show Beer Pong table, I ask Mona, “Did you notice how nice Jordan was to us?  Do you think Matt and Jordan are a thing?”

“No! What are you talking about! She was just being polite,” Mona responded.

These two clean up nicely

Many of you think that dads are clueless to matters of the heart.  All dads care about is lawn mowing and halftime dancing, but you would be wrong.  Recently, when I recounted our first meeting to Matt and Jordan, they both denied they were even considering dating at the time.  Which means I was the first person to recognize they would start dating.

When Jordan eventually came to our house for a visit, the first thing she did was give our dog, Milkshake, the equivalent of a Swedish massage as an introduction.  That’s when Milkshake fell in love with Jordan.

Late that evening I took Milkshake out in the yard.  Despite the darkness, I guessed someone was in the silver maple gazebo because Milkshake headed over there with her tail wagging.  I called the dog back.  “Don’t break the spell, Milkshake, they’re falling in love.”

A couple summers later, Jordan joined us on a Grand Canyon backpacking trip.  We hiked to the bottom of the canyon, explored trails the rangers only knew as rumors, searched for glow-in-the-dark scorpions and then climbed 5,000 feet to the rim.  On the next to last day of the trip, we had day-hiked to a rather meager spring for lunch and I was holding forth with some park trivia -- the risks of uranium mining bla, bla, bla  -- when Jordan excused herself by saying, “I’m going sit at the canyon edge so can I remember how wonderful this place is.”  That’s when I fell in love with Jordan.

On another backpacking trip on Mount Rainier’s challenging Northern Loop trail, Lauren and Jordan fell in love.  It happened after a day of very difficult hiking when Lauren and Jordan discussed, through a tent wall, the merits of serving protein with breakfast.  This has been henceforth known as the “oatmeal moment.”  Is Jordan laughing?  Too soon?

Mona is not exactly sure when she fell in love with Jordan.  It might have been during our traditional after-Christmas-dinner game of Pit when Jordan traded three wheat cards to Mona for three flax cards.

“Corner the market on Wheat!”

For those of you unfamiliar with the game, Wheat cards are worth 100 and Flax a mere 40.

Killing it

But most likely, Mona fell in love with Jordan when Jordan joined her for a workout at the YMCA.  Mona is a YMCA gym rat and gym rats love other gym rats.

So in honor of this love story and the Silver Maples that started it all, we are giving Matt and Jordan a Silver Maple seedling from our yard.  It’s growing in our gutter right now.

So a toast to Matt and Jordan, may your love grow like a Silver Maple sending roots deep and branches tall in every season of your life together.

And a couple more things about that beer pong game on Mom’s Weekend … first, Mona and I forced a tie-breaker against Matt and Peter Park on the strength on Mona’s clutch shooting in game two.  Where are you Peter?  After dinner, meet us for a rematch in the Pawnee Earth Lodge.  And second, Matt’s Robotic Computerized Light Show Beer Pong table has been stored in our basement for seven years.  Matt, Jordan – the second part of our wedding gift will be arriving by UPS bulk cargo.

Nevada, River Mountains Loop Trail, Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon

When my son, Matt, graduated from college, I proposed a father-son backpacking trip to the Grand Canyon which he readily accepted.  We flew into Las Vegas and on the way to the canyon we stopped for a bike ride -- and what better way to acclimate to the desert climate than a bike ride.

Boulder City, NV is just south of Las Vegas and has easy access to the River Mountains Loop Trail which runs through the hills and along Lake Mead.

Trail head

Matt surveying our route

Off the main loop, a spur trail runs to Hoover Dam along the old right-of-way the railway used to move materials to the dam during construction.

Power infrastructure for the Hoover Dam generators

Just above the Visitor's Center is a bike rack where we locked up our rental bikes and walked down to the dam.

Angel Statues

Hoover Dam intake towers

Hoover Dam spur trail tunnel

Feels pretty hot here for Midwestern boys

Grand Canyon South Rim (the "before" picture)

Our backpacking itinerary was the classic "Rim-to-Rim" route.  It started with a 5-hour shuttle from the south rim to the north rim.  From there we would descend to camp at the Cottonwood Campground.  Then down to the Bright Angel Campground/Phantom Ranch for two nights at the bottom of the canyon.  One day up to Indian Gardens and then climb out of the canyon on the last day.  

We arrived at the north rim to find the ranger station closed for the night.  I had understood that backpackers with a permit didn't need reservations for the first night at the north rim campground, but now I had no idea where to camp.  Fortunately, some fellow backpackers had sympathy for us and allowed us to share their campsite.  It turned out they were also father and son, also celebrating the son's recent graduation from a Big Ten school (Wisconsin), and also an engineering major.

Grand Canyon North Rim

North Kaibab Trail

Interestingly, the park's South Rim is supplied with water by an antiquated and leaky pipeline that runs from the North Rim down to the canyon bottom and up the other side.  The pipeline breaks often enough that backpackers are cautioned to bring a water filter.  At the Cottonwood Campground, we learned the pipeline had burst and there was no water.  I had followed the park's recommendation, but not everyone was as prepared.  We watched a rim-to-rim runner scaling the canyon wall by Roaring Springs with his water bottle to fill up with the cleanest water possible. 

Words of wisdom

Later we saw the source of the problem, a water geyser gushing 50-feet in the air from the partially buried pipeline along the river.  Apparently, turning water off at the below-the-rim campgrounds maintains enough pressure to provide water to the South Rim's six million annual visitors.  Another fun fact: the restrooms at the South Rim go through more than a mile of toilet paper each day.

That's not a suntan, it's a dust tan

Ribbon Falls, North Kaibab Trail

On day two, we were passed a group of backpackers sporting ultralight backpacks.  I don't understand why, but ultralight backpackers can't hide their sense of superiority.  "Those are mighty big backpacks you got there," one cracked as he walked by.

"You're just jealous," I retorted.  "Of my big package!" I should have added.  My response must have prickled because he sneered at me when we passed them on the trail later on.  Really, you're giving me a hard time because I packed too much?  This encounter was the genesis for an article I would later write for the Sierra Club (Hoarder, Foodie, Loose Cannon -- Which Backpacker Are You?).

Bark scorpions glow bright green under a UV light!  Really

Matt and I feasted on a steak dinner at the Phantom Ranch.

After dinner we joined the ranger in a scorpion hunt.  The ranger produced handheld black light and scanned the rock posts by the mule corral.  The scorpions hangout at the corral because their prey eats mule dug.  Sure enough, hiding in the various nooks and crannies were scorpions glowing bright green in the shine of the black light -- amazing.  

Tonto Platform, Clear Creek Trail

115 degrees!

Grand Canyon South Rim (the "after" picture)

-- Frizbo

State:	Nevada
Date:	2012-05-23
Route:	River Mountains Loop Trail
Distance:	20 miles

Pennsylvania, Allegheny National Forest, Singing to Bears

After a day biking in Ohio, I arrive in Pennsylvania's Allegheny National Forest (Why a Frizbo Fifty?). My first stop is the Marienville Ranger Station.

"I'm interested in some mountain biking!" I respond when queried by the ranger. The forest district, while not known for mountain biking, does have extensive trails for All Terrain Vehicles (ATV). These trails are closed to ATVs before Memorial Day, so it seems like a good opportunity to do some mountain biking without the threat of being roadkill.

Based on the ranger's cold stare, I get the feeling this ranger doesn't like me or mountain bikers in general. Reluctantly he points out the nearby ATV trails and parking lots. I try to warm him up. I gesture to the stuffed bear on display. "So, are there a lot bears around here?"

"Oh, yea, lots of bears. Worried?"

"No, black bears don't scare me," I answer. I have encountered enough black bears to know that they will quickly run away with just a little encouragement. "Grizzly bears scare me, but not black bears." I offer, trying not to sound like an urban dweeb worried about bears, snakes and poison ivy.

"Well, let me tell you about black bears," he retorts. "If a grizzly bear attacks you, you can play dead. But if a black bear attacks you, you'd better fight back, cause he plans on eating you."

"Really! And exactly how many people have been killed by man-eating black bears in the Allegheny National Forest?" I am tempted to reply, but I instead I simply thank him and head to the trail head.

From the "Pigs Ear Trailhead" there are 28 miles of ATV trails.

To the west is the Marienville Trail, rated "more difficult" and to the east, the Timberline Trail rated "easiest." I start west to find out the meaning of "more difficult." After a mile of smooth packed gravel trail, I come to a steep climb paved in concrete blocks and covered with pea gravel. It's like riding on loose marbles -- a mountain biker's nightmare. I guess I have to stick to the easier trails (I later noticed this was a downhill only segment of the trail and there was an uphill bypass).

Marienville ATV Trail, "More Difficult"

Backtracking and heading east, I find myself riding primarily forest service roads. Soon I discover the forest is a maze of access roads for oil and gas wells. Poor signage combined with poor maps and I quickly have lost my way. But with all the service roads, I simply pick a road and head north and west until I pick up the trail again.

Oil/gas field access roads

Oil and gas wells every 200 yards!

National forests, unlike national parks, are a resource to be harvested, but this place is disgusting with the sound and smell of wells permeating the forest. I feel like I'm riding in an industrial park. By the time I return to the car, I am pretty disappointed. There has to be some better trails than this.

Kinzua Dam

I drive north to the Allegheny Reservoir and with the sun setting I take a quick hike out to the tops of the bluffs overlooking the reservoir. The northern part of the forest district is much prettier with far fewer roads and wells. On the way back to Warren, the nearest town, a small black bear bolts across the road right in front of my car.

"So, they do have bears here. I wonder if it's a man-eater!"

As I mentioned, I have had some run-ins with black bears. Once in the Porcupine Mountains, I greeted a bear on a pitch-black night by saying "Hey Ron, is that you?", but the most interesting encounter occurred in the Shenandoah National Park. It was a family vacation with my wife, two kids and the dog and we had just finished a canoe trip on the Shenandoah River. We were now headed to the next phase of the trip, a rustic cabin in the national park. Driving through this part of Virginia, we noticed just about everything is named Shenandoah: Shenandoah National Park, Shenandoah River, Shenandoah Drive, Shenandoah View Apartments, Shenandoah Cleaners. Feeling a little punchy after day five of the family vacation, my wife began singing John Denver's "Country Roads" every time one of us said the word "Shenandoah."

Almost heaven, West Virginia

Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River

Life is old there, older than the trees

Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze 

While it was funny the first six times, we were circumspect by the time we got to the trailhead in the S-word National Park (our working euphemism to prevent further outbursts of Country Roads).

The rustic cabins, managed by the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club, were built by the CCC when the park was developed. These primitive cabins are equipped with mattresses, blankets, and cookware. A pit toilet and spring water are nearby. The cabins can only be reached by hiking well into the park and offer an excellent base camp to explore the surrounding trails and forest.

By this time it is late in the day and we are hustling to get to the cabin before dusk. On the spur trail to the cabin, as we are arm-carrying sleeping bags, camping gear and food, we come upon a black bear munching on blue berries.

"Oh, My God! It's a bear!"

"Don't run. Stand together. Look big, he'll run away."

By this time the bear notices us, gives us a long look, and then goes back to eating blue berries.

"He's not leaving!"

"Make some noise. That will scare him."

We make some rather half-hearted yells and shouts which the bear totally ignores.

"He's still not leaving! What should we do?"

"Hmmm, I know, let's sing the song."

"Almost heaven, West Virginia..."

I don't know if it was our singing or maybe bears just don't care for John Denver, but before we finished the first verse, that bear had skedaddled into the woods. Like I said, they just need some encouragement.

Allegheny Mountains

That evening back at the hotel in Warren, PA, I search the web looking for non-ATV bike trails. I find a recommendation from the local bike club website, text my wife that I survived today's adventures and hit the hay.

At last, some single track!

Today, I ride the Tanbark Trail -- a hiking trail that runs from the plateau down to the Allegheny River. This is still early spring in the Allegheny Forest. Only two weeks ago they had eight inches of snow here. Despite a trail covered in autumn's leaves and winter's branches, the ride is exhilarating as I glide through the trees benefiting from a gentile downhill slope.

Spring arrives late in the Allegheny Mountains

Soon the Tanbark Trail becomes steep and rocky. I dismount and walk the remaining mile or so to the river.

"The only extreme thing about my mountain biking is I am extremely careful" -- Frizbo

At the river, I know there is no way I can ride back up the Tanbark Trail. Instead I follow the river road looking for a gravel road going up and east. After some wandering around and a hellacious climb, I discover a fantastic forest road, FS-119, that winds along the Hickory Creek Wilderness Area and right back to the car. Here the Allegheny Forest is preserved for outdoor recreation and is undeniably beautiful.

300+ year old White Pine, Hearts Content National Scenic Area

-- Frizbo

Lost among the oil wells and ATV Trails

Tanbark Trail Single Track

• State: Pennsylvania
• Date: 2011-05-09 & 2011-05-10
• Route: Allegheny National Forest (Timberline and Tanbark Trails)
• Distance: 56 miles

Colorado / Utah, Slickrock Trail, Spring Break in a Road Runner Cartoon

My mid-life biking craze started with the challenge of planning a Spring Break adventure for my easily bored teenagers (I didn't conceive of the Frizbo Fifty until two years later). My proposal for a mountain-biking trip was met with some skepticism that rapidly dissipated when I explained that everyone would get a new mountain bike.

"Moab, Utah is the mountain biking capital of the world," I enthused, "and it's only two and a half days away!"

As we packed the last of the gear in the van, my wife came out into the driveway to kiss us goodbye. "Drive safely! Don't worry about me all alone at home," she added sarcastically as she handed me a half-dozen oranges.

"What am I supposed to do with these?" I asked. "The cooler's packed."

"They're for on the road. Really delicious."

I've seen this behavior before. As my brother and I were leaving for a Canadian paddling trip, my sister-in-law came out of the house at the last second with a pillow and three rolls of toilet paper in a mesh laundry bag. I did not explain to her that a full-sized bed pillow was too big for a canoe trip or that we had packed plenty of TP in waterproof zip-locks. I think it's some primordial maternal instinct and it's best just to go along with it.

"Oranges, good idea," I corrected myself, unpacking the luggage one more time. "Love you!"

Arriving in Grand Junction, we had to stop at the local bike shop to replace some bike parts that had mysteriously disappeared (note: always tighten all quick releases before transporting). I chatted up the store clerk and he recommended Fruita's Rustler's Loop as a good trail to get started. We must have been obvious noobs because when we set out on our first single-track ride we discovered the trail had signage every 50 yards or so explaining how to ride single-track.

Good thing too because even after reading the signs we did not leave Fruita unscathed. Nevertheless, the trails flowed and views were superb.

Overlooking the Colorado River, Fruita, CO

Rustler's Loop Trail, Fruita, CO

Mary's Trail, Fruita, CO

Fruita, CO



Red Badge of Courage, Horsethief Bench Trail

Fruita Trails

The next day we arrived in the mountain biking capital: Moab, UT. Moab reminds me of the Warner Brothers Road Runner cartoons and all those fantastic landscapes -- except in Moab those landscapes really exist!

"He is intelligent, but not experienced. His pattern indicates two dimensional thinking." -- Spock, Monitor and Merrimac Trail, Moab, Utah

For our ride near the Monitor and Merrimac Buttes, I planned a shortcut from one trail to another. On the map, it looked like the trails were only a couple hundred feet apart -- an easy bushwhack to the other trail. When we arrived at the shortcut, I realized the other trail was 500 feet above us! Being from the Midwest, I am often reminded, sometimes brusquely, that much of the planet is not as flat as the cornfields of Illinois.

Climbing Hurrah Pass, Moab, UT

A break in the shade, Hurrah Pass, Moab, UT

The Slickrock Trail is world renowned as a trail that cleverly routes riders over the metamorphic sand dunes. The so-called "slickrock" is not slick at all, as bike tires grip readily grip to its surface. The name was given by early settlers of the area because their horses' metal shoes and wagon wheels had difficulty gaining traction on the rock's sloping surfaces.

THE Slickrock Trail, Moab, UT

Another Red Badge of Courage, Slickrock Trail

Slickrock Trail overlooking Colorado River

The Slickrock Trail is one of the more difficult rides in the Moab area, both technically and cardiovascularly, and is not suitable for novice riders which of course did not deter us. We started with the practice loop and then had lunch at Lookout Point. When I asked if we should continue or turn back, the kids insisted we finish the loop.

Slickrock Trail (where did that dog come from?)

Well before the end of our ride we had consumed all our drinks and by the time we reached the parking lot we were really parched. Opening the van I searched the interior for anything to drink. Floating at the bottom of the cooler with the last of the ice were the oranges my wife had insisted on adding just as we left home. Ice-cold oranges after riding the Slickrock Trail -- best we ever tasted. Thanks Mom!

Slickrock Trail

-- Frizbo

• States: Colorado & Utah
• Date: 2008-03-22 thru 2008-03-27
• Fruita, CO Trails: Rustler's Loop. Mary's, Horsethief Bench (11 miles)
• Moab, UT Trails: Slickrock, Hurrah Pass, Monitor & Merrimac (23 miles)