The James Bond of Half Dome

This Saturday, I'm preparing to embark on a hike known as a "butt-kicker." (It's a technical term.)

Most of the time, I'm satisfied with tramping along for five or so miles. At times, I'm even happy with a couple of easy miles.

Other times, a weird streak of masochism surfaces and I say things like, "I think I'm going to climb Half Dome this weekend. I'm ready for a butt-kicker."

Note: the climb up Half Dome and back is about 17 miles. I did it last year, and it hurt. It was a good kind of pain.

Anyway, I decided that I'd climb Half Dome again on Saturday. I gleefully planned on getting up at 4 a.m. to begin the drive out to Yosemite. I silently debated what energy bars I would buy and how much water I'd lug up the trail. I weighed the pros and cons of wearing shorts or hiking pants that convert to shorts.

When I get excited about difficult hikes, I tend to rant on and on about them to patient friends. I inflicted a rant on my friend Danielle yesterday, and she remarked that embarking on butt-kicking hiking adventures is the closest I ever get to being James Bond.

Since that conversation, the 007 of Half Dome has taken a cold shower.

A hiking colleague pointed out that Saturday is part of the July 4 weekend, meaning Yosemite will probably resemble Disneyland because of the crowds.

I'm settling for an alternative butt-kicker this Saturday, but this isn't over.

Half Dome: You will be mine.

Bwah-ha-ha!

The Quest for Sweet, Sweet Caffeine

I allow myself just one addiction these days: coffee.

I prefer it black with a side of pie (when possible).

All coffees are welcome. Trucker coffee? Let it pour! Fancy-pants coffeehouse brew? Great! Gas station coffee that's been sitting on the warmer for 17 hours? I'll take a large!

Of course, this presents a problem on the trail. Lack of daily coffee consumption for people of my ilk can result in headaches, irritability and light coma.

I've spent a lot of time on this problem, utilizing Caffeine Delivery Systems (C.D.S.s) with varying results on previous hikes.

Two years ago, I went cold turkey off the stuff and drank tea. I figured the misery of caffeine withdrawal would be lost amid the misery of hiking miles and miles with a dead weight on my back at high elevations.

Having tried that once, I wouldn't recommend it.

Last year, I drank coffee "singles" that consist of tea bags filled with grounds. The system wasn't the greatest, but it was a fairly effective C.D.S.

This year, I want to try something new. Here are a few things I'm considering:

1. Pack in ground coffee and my "camp espresso maker," a small gadget that brews very strong coffee by the espresso-sized cup. Benefits: fresh, strong, tasty coffee. Drawbacks: extra weight.

2. Pack in an alternative caffeinated substance such as Irish breakfast tea. Benefits: little weight, and Irish breakfast tea rocks. Drawbacks: I take my tea with cream and sugar. And, it's not coffee.

3. Pack in coffee beans and chew them each morning. Benefits: efficient caffeine delivery without much weight. Drawbacks: Uncertain effect on intestinal systems.

4. Kidnap a good-looking barista and force him to prepare tasty coffee drinks. Benefits: Great tasting coffee on demand with no weight considerations. Drawbacks: Possible criminal penalties on return to civilization.

Suggestions are welcome.

She hikes hard for the money

Fresno may have chunky air and a crappy television show bearing its name, but it's a magical place.

Don't believe me? Then consider this: I just moved here, and my hobby turned into my day job.

I, along with three of my newspaper reportin' colleagues, will be paid to hike part of the John Muir Trail this summer.

Paid to hike. Paid money. Naturally, we'll be doing reporter-like things as well. We'll be producing stories along with buckets of sweat.

I'm already planning what kind of pencil to bring.

Hiking planning brings out every latent obsessive tendency inside me. When I was a kid growing up in the Appalachian Ohio foothills, it was so simple. Get the dogs. Go in the woods. Don't bring a baby raccoon home again.

As a grown hiker, I spend weeks writing and re-writing gear lists. I put myself through hellish training hikes (although I stopped using The Complete Shakespeare for weight a few years ago). I fret about detoxing off of brewed coffee and consider carrying my camp espresso maker.

Soon enough, my boots will hit the dirt and all the planning garbage will melt away.

Until then, I'd better hit the gym.