Thursday, May 21, 2020

This Man Sacrificed His Coronary Arteries for You

He has, at this writing, consumed no fewer than 525 cheesesteaks, searching for the best cheesesteak in Philly and its surrounds.

I was surprised that V&S was ranked as high as it was, suffering mostly because a baby was crying that day. Having suffered a lapse in quality 15ish years ago, I guess it's back!

If you comment below to tell me about how I should go to some shit cheesesteak place in California you only like because of the depths of your ignorance, I will punch you.

Sunday, May 10, 2020

Biomass and Toxicity Responses of Poison Ivy (Toxicodendron Radicans) to Elevated Atmospheric CO2

Of interest to trail runners and hikers. Just passing along this paper, by Mohan et al 2006.

From the abstract: "Furthermore, high-CO(2) plants produce a more allergenic form of urushiol. Our results indicate that Toxicodendron taxa [which includes poison oak] will become more abundant and more "toxic" in the future, potentially affecting global forest dynamics and human health."


Biomass and Toxicity Responses of Poison Ivy (Toxicodendron Radicans) to Elevated Atmospheric CO2. Proc Natl Acad Sci U S A. 2006 Jun 13;103(24):9086-9. Mohan JE, Ziska LH, Schlesinger WH, Thomas RB, Sicher RC, George K, Clark JS.

Friday, May 8, 2020

New Podcast: Trail Doc Vlog

By John Onate of UC Davis, and medical director of the Western States 100.

Here's episode 2 - Ultramarathons during a Pandemic, a discussion with Ultramarathon Medical Directors.

Sunday, April 19, 2020

Sharp Tail Snakes, Backyard, Sonoma County

Three of em. I'd never heard of this species, in its own genus, with a protruding final sharp vertebra (hence their name) they use to pin down their favorite meal, slugs. I let them go in some wilderness nearby. Lockdown silver lining: who knows if I ever would have seen one of these if I hadn't been spending more time in my (increasingly obviously awesome) backyard?



Tuesday, April 14, 2020

International Space Station's View of the Susquehanna and Appalachian Ridges

From ninety miles up. For Penn Staters: on the left side of the image you can see the 322 bridge across the river at Duncannon, where it then starts following the Juniata. You can appreciate how what SEEM like conical mountains as you're driving along are revealed to be just the ends of ridges, dissected by one of the oldest rivers in the world. There is a mountain in central-western PA you can see from the turnpike - only westbound - which looks like a conical mountain that my family officially named "Tit Mountain", which turned out to be another ridge. (There are conical mountains in PA but they are very old and at this point very very worn-down, and they are indeed volcanoes - but there's really only one of them that you can notice as stand-alone.)



Thursday, April 2, 2020

East Coast: Where the Trees Don't Lose Their Leaves

I've always wondered where the leaves stay green throughout the year - on the East Coast. Why does this matter? West Coast natives will never understand this, how the combination of the East Coast mentality and continental climate can make you feel trapped by the climate. During a road trip from Philly to Florida at spring break one year, the sun came up right about as we were crossing from South Carolina into Georgia, and seeing the green forest around us, I felt like we'd escaped - like we had cheated the world. It's not even the temperature that can be grueling about a temperate zone winter - it's the colorlessness, the gray clouds and especially the brown trees. A friend from Georgia referred to the Pennsylvania winter's wan sun, clouds and dead trees as the Dead Land. I had the same experience when I moved to California, and drove across the country in December as I descended the Sierras and came into the foothills and Sacramento's eastern suburbs, again there was green. Again I felt like I had come back to life, and I was home.

So I had always wondered: where do the trees stay green?

I started to think I was going to have to learn to program somewhat, and find satellite images from August and February of the East Coast, and then (if I was being rigorous) look at the color value of each pixel and try to correlate that with vegetation. But these maps are already available. (I couldn't find them the last time I did this search.) The first map is from databasin.org. Although weather moves west to east (hence the East Coast being much less moderate), there is still an under-emphasized maritime moderation effect near the coast - for example, the robins don't migrate for the winter in suburban Philadelphia, but one county away in Berks, they do (they come back early February though.) So this map shows how the coastal deciduous zone ends right near the Virginia-North Carolina line, and then hugs the coast, a bit downhill of the Fall Line, maybe 100 miles from the ocean. The pattern continues as it bends around the Gulf Coast, trends a bit north in Louisiana, and then much to my surprise, bends back toward the coast to include Houston. West of that, the mountains and/or dryness of the climate dictate vegetation more than temperature. I can confirm - having flown into Houston at Christmas, I was quite surprised that the trees were brown. (Corpus Christi was still green.) What surprises me most is I think I expected the 40th parallel to dominate more over coastal effects (as the typical dividing line between temperate and subtropical) but this is not the case.

And speaking of the southeast - while you're social-distancing, don't all hike on the same trails! It happened in both California and now Georgia. Come on outdoorsy types. We're smarter than this. And I want more of us to stay alive!



It also confirms what I suspected about Virginia: it's really just Pennsylvania with nastier summers.

Below is a map of the Fall Line from gallivance.net, where the first hills begin. There's nothing like this on the West Coast, where instead of being a passive margin where the land just kind of "gives up" to the ocean, the mountains come right up to the water, sometimes a mile high within a few miles as in California's Central Coast. The Fall Line corresponds to agricultural development historically, the Black Belt, and where the mills were. Almost all of Pennsylvania is uphill from the Fall Line - it's already at the Falls Bridge/Schuylkill Aqueduct, and the Twin Bridges (ie, Roosevelt Boulevard - before Manayunk even!), which is why large vessels don't go upriver past Philly. (Imagine a parallel universe where they dock in Reading. With cruise ships as carriers of disease - norovirus for many years and now COVID-19 - that's probably a good thing.)




Above: from Wiki, the Falls Bridge, aka the Reading Railroad Bridge, and the Twin Bridges at the Fall Line on the Schuylkill in Philly. Below, a typical cruise ship (from Signal Horizon.)



Of course a lot of the non-deciduous forest in the Carolinas is pine forest. This map shows that the vegetation you'll see along I-95 heading south transitions from Loblolly pine to mangroves along the river and patches of chestnut oak.



Sunday, March 29, 2020

Hope Everyone is SAFELY Getting Exercise - COVID-19 Potpourri

Coronavirus tips, plus trivia, from a physician who loves being outside:

1) Now is not the time for intense exercise regimens. Keep up a gentle routine. But anything that really stresses you (long runs, lots of sprinting) can wait - it immunocompromises you, increases inflammation, and very likely will make your course more dangerous when you get coronovirus. (It's a matter of when, not if.) Look at it this way - pressure's off! Everything is canceled! Just relax!

2) STAY HOME.

3) It turns out that hanging around in your hood is not so bad. We're all trying to find silver linings and that's one of them for me! Here is a list of California superlatives. Pennsylvania is the most underrated state on the East Coast so wherever you are, make your own list. (Sort of like a combination of bucket list-making and gratitude exercise.) Check out uncoveringpa.com. Check out u/moxy79's southeastern PA hiking/exploring videos, and Scott's Odyssey for Central PA, on Reddit.

4) STAY HOME.

5) Get outside in a way that stays AWAY FROM OTHER PEOPLE, not these selfish idiots who endangered themselves and everyone else in Northern California.

6) I thought this was a really interesting story. Native heritage on the East Coast is not as culturally central, which is a big lose-lose for everyone. We can fix this. "These Native American Women Came to Philadelphia To See Their Ancestral Land."

7) Let's all be adults and not belly-ache too much about our missed trips. So far I have two trips, including one that was a planned mountain climb with other people, canceled. Know what's more important than that? My family and my health. Another silver lining: priorities become very clear when something REAL like this pandemic is happening.

8) I think our ideas of what animals can survive at what altitude are probably off. Here's the new world record for world's highest dwelling mammal, a mouse found at the summit of one of the highest mountains in Chile, Lluillaillaco, over 22,000 feet. Yes humans have summited Everest without oxygen but no one lives there - the highest permanent settlement with any self-sustaining economic activity (not research stations that would die quickly without outside support) is La Rinconada in Peru at 16,830'. In California at least in the Sierras from Yosemite to Tahoe or so, the received wisdom is that there are no rattlesnakes above 7,000'. This report (linked here) of a rattlesnake at the summit of San Jacinto (yes a bit further south) at 10,000' would take issue with that.

9) Some social distancing photos (Sonoma Coast and Sugarloaf State Park - snowcapped ridge in the distance in the last photo probably Snow Mountain in Mendocino NF.) All taken before parks closure, which I am obeying, and not joking about that. WEAR A MASK! WASH YOUR HANDS! STAY HOME! STAY ALIVE!







Sunday, February 16, 2020

Sea to Sky Trail, Sonoma County

Apparently I can't get enough of trails climbing from the ocean through scattered woodlands, so I visited Sea to Sky. Originally the pictures online made this trail look scenic but kind of boring - just a slog up a hill in open coastal scrub. That is not the case. The first two miles (on the Raptor Ridge side) are like that, but the view of the Russian River mouth (and the Pomo Canyon Trail area on the other side) keeps growing. Then you get to the top of the ridge and start descending through redwoods with lots of sorrel, a good sign of a healthy redwood forest. At the bottom you're at 4.3 miles, a little over halfway - it's 7.6 miles each way, making a 15.2 mile day. Then begins a 3.2 mike 1,816' slog up to the top of Pole Mountain which afforded views of Santa Rosa and Mt. St. Helena, Point Reyes, Mt. Tam in the distance, and of course the Pacific. Besides gophers, vultures, and crows, I surprisingly saw no wildlife, although as in most of Sonoma you're far enough north for bears on the coast. There were some flowers out but it is FAR too early - I can't blame them for being confused because Sonoma County has ominously had ZERO rain in February, and one or two 80 degree days.

Thanks to the Wildlands Conservancy for preserving this forever!


Above and below: area around the mouth of the Russian River, currently open to the ocean. There were two seals hanging out right there. I don't like when it's open because that means in theory great whites could get in to the estuary area and they do attack kayaks - and I'm planning a Guerneville-to-river-mouth trip. Maybe I'll wait until summer when the river drops enough.

























Wilder Ranch, Santa Cruz County

I've lived in the Bay Area 16 years, and not only have I STILL not been to all the parks, I haven't even HEARD of all of them - not even all the awesome ones, like Wilder Ranch. I took advantage of the unseasonably clear February weather (complete with summer-like night time fog worthy of the Lost Boys.)




























And one building (where All Shook Up Vintage Clothing is located) has of all things, a hex sign. Nowhere is safe from Dutchmen!

Sunday, December 29, 2019

How to Measure Coaches

In college football, the "winningest" (coach with most wins) is a stupid statistic. It's much more a measure of quantity, not quality. If you coach a long time, even if you suck, you have a better shot at being winningest than a younger high-quality coach. It's a participation trophy.

What matters is your percentage of wins, right? Yes - but it's also true that teams differ in the strength of their recruiting. What I didn't know until I read this article at watchstadium.com is that the strength of each incoming class is measured and ranked, just like teams are. Not surprisingly, there's a relationship: the better your incoming class, the more your team wins.

But it's not an absolute relationship (otherwise, why play the season out?) So if we compare class quality against the final record, this gives us a good way to measure the strength of coaching. For coaches, your input is the quality of your players, and your output is your win-loss record. Coaching is converting talent into wins. That's what you have control over. Not the strength of the rest of your conference, not how screwed up the ranking polls and CFP committee are. (A committee to determine who gets into the playoff? Ever wonder why they don't just use a transparent formula? It's so the bowls make more money. It only has to do with how good the teams are to the extent that if it's too obvious they're actually maximizing for revenue, people will spend less on bowls.)

So if a coach consistently wins less often than the strength of his recruiting class predicts, he's screwing up. If he ends up winning more often than the recruiting class predicts, he's taking silver and and turning it into gold, and he's a good coach.

The article I'm linking to shows scatter plots of programs from the Power Five, plotting number of wins from 2015 through 2018 against average incoming class quality rank for the same period. They don't give an r-value, but the curve does look sigmoidal. This is interesting, because sigmoidal curves often suggest network behavior, and the output here (number of wins) for each team is dependent on other teams. They also point out the relationship is weaker in basketball for a number of reasons including transfers.

On the plot below, the further above the line, the better the coaching. Bottom line: Mike Leach at Washington State is the best coach in the Power 5, with his team finishing 6 wins higher during 2015-18 than would be expected based on his recruiting class. Paul Chryst at Wisconsin, Kirk Ferentz at Iowa, and Dave Doeren at NC State, all tie for second best coach in the Power 5, finishing on average 5 wins higher than their recruiting classes. These are the coaches who are converting talent into wins most effectively.

Which coaches waste the talent they bring in? UNC and Maryland (6 wins lower), along with Nebraska and Texas (5 wins lower.) The full list is available at the article.

Monday, December 23, 2019

Hood Mountain on a Rainy Day


What a difference 45 minutes makes.










Below: the view from the summit. Also from Gunsight Rock. Also pointing straight up in a random direction.


After this it started to clear, with the cloud deck lifting and fog dissipating and forest and vineyards coming out from behind the wisps that lingered along the ridges.












A good rule to live by is that if you can include pictures of San Francisco in a blog post, you should.