Just Another Lovely Weekend

Mt. Hood from the backside of Mt Tabor.

I thought that in my nearly 4th year in Portland I would have seen it all when it comes to cycling; spandex clad tools, tall bikes, bike jousts, texting bikers and the like. Yesterday was the day of biking firsts however. On my way in from the bike rack I passed by a bike that had a “Parking Violation” on it. . .a parking violation, that’s right. This person apparently broke some obscure parking regulation, bike parking regulation. I tried to deduct what the violation was for; double parking, wrong direction on a one way street, unauthorized locking mechanism, nothing stood out to me. What I found most entertaining about the whole situation is the fact that bikes, have no identification, no license plate, no registration numbers, nothing. So, assuming this cyclist doesn’t have fuckuitis, a common condition amongst Portland bikers ( I don’t because my mother raised a gentleman), how is the biker expected to pay their violation?

Prior to seeing the parking violation at work I nearly witnessed a blood bath of a bike-on-bike accident. When I say nearly I don’t mean that I arrived too late but rather one biker actually knew what he was doing, the other wasn’t so savvy. Another rider and I were headed down the hill into town (one of the many) and this kid, probably on his way to school, pulled out to cross the street on his bike. He couldn’t seem to get his feet settled on his pedals and so he just blindly, powerlessly rolled out into the street. The kid, still fidgeting with his feet to get some power to his bike, kept rolling further and further into the path of the downhill rider. Now. . .i must make a disclaimer about Portland bikers, many of us feel it’s cool to ride without hands, myself included. But. . .when you’re about to t-bone into another biker at 24.3 miles an hour. . .it may be time to put your hands on the handlebar. Back to the near carnage; the handless biker (he had hands just didn’t care to take them out of his pockets) swerved cut in front of the struggling biker’s path, just as he did, the kid got his feet on the pedals and started to pedal. The handless biker pulled his hand out of his pockets and swerved just in time to miss the kid’s back tire. Granted, no contact was made but I had there been a wreck I probably would have been right in the mix, seeing as I was only 20 yards behind the action. It was actually pretty impressive chain of events.

On a less impressive note. . .i got “lost” in the woods on Saturday. A co-worker and I went into the Columbia River Gorge, aka the Gorge, for a hike. I opted for the challenging option of the Herman Creek trail. Apparently the challenging option of the Herman Creek trail is not easy to find. Thankfully, my companion for the day was fit enough to handle the tracking and back tracking that added about 6 miles to our total trip. What peeved me the most was the fact that we never made our way to the overlook. We did however, find an overlook of the overlook. This is the best you’re going to get out of me.

Looking out into the Columbia River Gorge. The flake is where the trail was supposed to lead us. Maybe next time.

Sunday was a blessed day in Portland. The weather was fantastic and a perfect day for being out and about in the city. A friend and I walked up to Mt Tabor to take in some great views of the city and Mt Hood. I was hoping for some nice fall foliage but the funny thing about evergreens is. . .they are always green. Bastards! Sunday ended with a nice long nap on the sofa (inside) and some house cleaning.

Looking up Hawthorne Ave into downtown from the top of Mt Tabor.

Sir Scott the famed NW pioneer.

Sorry for the weak banter and weaker pictures. This weekend marks Halloween, which should produce some interesting sights. I'm not really one to shoot party photos but i'll do my best to capture the mood. Some may want to know what/who i'm going as and that is to be determined. Forever the procrastinator. Here's to handcrafted E.T. costumes and playboy playmates dressed as clowns.

Another Whirl

So, over the course of this summer i have trudged up the skree covered slopes of Olympic National Park, summited Oregon's 3rd highest peak, scrambled all over the fabled Smith Rock; all without a scratch (blisters not included). But this past weekend, i took a benign 12 mile hike along the Eagle Creek Trail and managed to toss my ankle 3 times. It's bad enough i'm off the football for injury reasons but hiking too? Thankfully all that needling and fluid injecting that my Naturopath has been doing has its purpose. Although my ankle was a little tender, it held up for the last six miles of the trip (more on that later).

Being "inactive" has been driving me crazy! I decided to take it easy this weekend by staying around the house and staying away from temptations to party. After a quiet evening out with some friends for dinner,drinks (two) and darts, i was back home watching a foreign film with Dan before 10. I devoted Saturday to domestic duties, aka house cleaning. Once the house was sparkling i needed to do something. I begged my unassuming Canadian roomie to play some soccer in the street with me, "i'll only kick with my left foot," was included in my plea. It has been close to 2 months since i've played soccer to any extent. We started off casually, knocking the futsal back and forth. Our neighbor, as many people in Portland do, put some tires out on the road and tagged them as free. Dan saw a window of opportunity. . .no. . .not for a used, rusty set of studded snow tires but for a new activity. Before you know it we were juggling the soccer ball the width of the street and trying to deposit the ball, via soccer approved appendages, into the column of tires. Before i knew it there were beers and more rules involved. After Dan's last run of regulations we played a game to 5. We added elements of "flair" for additional points (points that were never counted, similar to "Who's Line"). Dan opted for the 360, which he never successfully pulled off. I, on the other hand, opted for the high kick double heel clicker (one successful attempt on record). When it was all said and done. . .Dan was served up a bagel with cream cheese, 5-0. With my soccer fix slightly met, it was back into the house to enjoy the fruits of my labor. . .a clean shower.

When Willy was here in July our hike up to Elk Meadow was foiled by the washout blues. We wrapped our way around Mt. Hood and headed into the Columbia River Gorge for a trip up the Oregon classic, Eagle Creek. We hiked up to Punchbowl falls and headed back to the truck. Looking for an easy, injury reserve safe hike, i chose the same trip but added a few miles into the mix. I had planned on hiking to "high bridge," a bridge that cuts across the narrow gorge created by Eagle Creek. Instead, i took my "endless energy" (some woman on the trail said that as i whistled on my way past her) up to Tunnel Falls. I was happy i put in the extra effort because the additional 6 miles included some of the best part of the trip. I took some pictures but for whatever reason my camera and i didn't really get along. So you have to bear with me.

Punchbowl Falls.



Eagle Creek is known for its narrow, often times, nail biting trail.

Some unnamed waterfall above High Bridge.

Ummm. Shrooms

These shrooms were pretty cool. They had little jelly like droplets all over them.

Some rock and skree along the trail.

Moss seemed to cover just about anything along the trail. This is just one small example.



Tunnel Falls.

And again.

The park service actually dynamited a tunnel behind the falls.

Looking out the tunnel.

That's it for now. I'm working on getting my Flickr account up and organized. I've put some photos on there already but there are many more to come. No big trips planned for the near future but i'm sure there will be no shortage of random acts of entertainment along the way.

Dirtbags

This weekend i took a trip into the high desert of central Oregon. It was basically a climbing trip for most and a kegger birthday party for others. Annually a handful of climbing buddies get together at Smith Rock and celebrate the passing of age. My friend Zack invited me along for the trip. Although Smith is a well known climbing mecca, i stayed off the ropes and opted for the slightly more sure footed trails of the park. Being back around that scene kind of made me want to don a harness and reconquer the crags (not that i ever actually conqured any crags). Maybe next time. Since i didn't do much more than party and hike. . .i don't have a lot to say. . .or remember. I did take some pictures while on the Misery Ridge hike through the park. So this is what you get. . .pictures (and captions).

Home sweet home for the weekend. Zack slept under the tarp and i took my usual post in the back of the truck.

Entering the park.

This is the actual Smith Rock.

The crew sets up for a day of climbing. Smith is like Disneyland for climbers. The well manicured belay stations are just one example of the park's hospitality.

The birthday boy (Jamie) leads the first climb of the day.

His girlfriend Jody is next to the top.

Zack was the last to go.

I left the group to their climbing and hiked around the park via the Misery Ridge trail. No actual misery took place.

Monkey Face is one of the most popular features in the park. It's also one of the more difficult areas to climb.

I took this just before i started off course. This is looking back toward Monkey Face and the park's namesake.

After my 3/4 mile deviation i had to trek back up a wall of switchbacks. On the way back up there were some good views up the back of Monkey Face.

Once i hit the ridge i was rewarded with some views onto Monkey Face and back into the valley.

This picture was taken from a spot known as the "spring board," a little flake of rock near the top of Monkey Face.

A view from the south side of the ridge just before heading back down to the Crooked River.

When i met back up with the group they were just about to change locations. The cool weather and looming storms kept climbers chasing the sun all day. It also afforded me with some good black and white images.

Jamie and Luis lead two separate climbs. Jamie on a 5.8 called "12 Buckets" and Luis on a 10.b name unknown.

My parting shot of the day was a frustrated climber taking a break hoping the light would last long enough to finish this problem.

I was happy to get away from town for the weekend. While it threatened to rain and actually did at times. . .the weekend was great. Good company, good beer and beautiful scenery.