Scorcher

Portland is known for many things, rain, smelly hippies, spandex clad assholes, i can go on all day, but what Portland isn't known for is stifling heat. That could be because Portland is supposed to be a temperate locale. Now. . .i could join my fellow left-minded, grass burning, bike riding thinkers and go off on a 6 1/2 page rant pointing out all the degrees of separation that can be linked back to Global Warming and Capitalism (aka George Bush). I seriously think that everything bad that happens, people, out here at least, blame good ol' Georgie. Dan and i were discussing, after watching Bob Costas's interview of our ill-famed leader, which president we would like to party with the most. Dan, being a Canadian, has a far better understanding of our presidential history (go figure). I threw out Billary and George W. While i think Bill would make for more stimulating conversation, George W. would be my man, a true drinking buddy. And if i had to guess. . .he's probably packing some Xanax in those cargo shorts of his.

After being on the move nearly the entire month of July, i've been aching to settle back into the Portland scene, local hikes, bars, bike rides, waterfront festivals and the like. My first weekend back in town presented me with just about all the above activities. The Red Bull Flugtag, an event that takes crafty soapbox derby like flying machines and hurls them (that is if they don't fall apart before they reach the end of the runway) off a 30 foot high runway built in the Willamette river . I found out that weekend that showing up to festivals "fashionably late" doesn't work so well. Fortunately, i had a co-worker who set up camp at 5am. I grabbed and ass sized square on the blanket and sat back to enjoy the festivities. There was a wide variety of flying machines but my favorite by far was the Spaceballs Winnebago. Mostly for nostalgic reasons but also for the costumes the participants were sporting, full Spaceballs garb. They even included a reenactment of the Schwartz battle between Dark Helmet and Lone Starr. A real classic. Most flugtaggers plummeted nose first into the river. The more creative types, i.e. chips and salsa, used hang-gliding (the chip of course) type "technology" to attempt something that could be considered flight.

The SpaceBalls Winnie just before "lift off."

The Lego Jet.

Post-launch carnage. Lego's everywhere.

This weekend i moved from aerial soapbox antics to the real deal, the Annual Mt. Tabor Soapbox Derby (sorry no good links with info or pics). My friend Matt had just bit the bullet and picked himself up a fancy new single speed rig for tooling around the city. I figured, what better way to make him question his decision than a ride up our local volcano. We parked at the foot of Mt Tabor and walked the course up and scouted seats along the way. The thing about the soap box derby is that the rides are homemade. This means that the safety equipment, brakes and steering, aren't always up to modern standards. It's wise to always leave an escape route just in case the Optimus Prime soap box car runs astray. I haven't been to the event before but it appears to be an all day affair. We stayed to watch a few runs and then it was off to slurp down some margaritas before our ride to the west side for a Timbers game.

Our view from turn #1.

This guy was cruising. I think he put a bit of effort and engineering into his rig.

This participant decided on a the classic all wood approach. Another speedster.

I have no clue what this is supposed to be but they seemed to be having fun.

A view across the reservoir and onto the finish line. You can also see the cityscape through the haze.

I managed to escape the urban jungle for the real deal last weekend. At the beginning of the summer i decided to do my best to explore my surrounding wilderness. Aside from trips southward, i have stepped foot on a new trail just about every weekend this summer. This past weekend i took a trip back up to Mt. Hood to explore the flame roasted, old-growth forest of Burnt Lake. Apparently, many years ago, the woods leading up to Burnt Lake were the victims of slow moving forest fire. Most of the carnage has long since fallen to the ground or been taken over by new growth but there are still some remains of the historical damage. After my trip in the Olympics, the 7-mile hike seemed like a casual stroll. The hike starts with a winding trail through a dense clover field and moss-lined trees. As i worked my way further into the wilderness the woods became more dense and the toasted douglas firs started to appear. The trail took to a steeper grade as i got closer to the lake and exposed some hints of the magic mountain. I had never understood the reference to Mt Hood before this trip. It's amazing how a 11,000 foot snow covered mountain can appear, disappear and reappear as much as Mt. Hood does. Once i got up to the lake i was ready for a swim. After my 40 degree bath in the White Salmon a few weeks ago, i have been weary of just jumping into unknown waters. I tested the temp and decided against an afternoon swim. I was happy with my decision as, like it often does, the wind kicked up a cool breeze that would have stiffened my nipples to a point of discomfort. Instead, i scrambled out onto a downed log and enjoyed a snack. After taking advantage of a few photo ops and a quick nap in the sun, i headed back down. The downhill grade was perfect for a quick walk/light jog and for some sick reason, i decided to do just that. I was pretty beat by the time i got back to my rig but it was all worth it (if by worth you mean i still had 90 minutes of football to play later that night).

Some clover.

Me in a burnt out tree. I nearly broke my leg trying to get this damn picture.

Same tree, without me, and some sunshine peeking through.

Mt. Hood trying to push through its clouds.

Burnt Lake in color.

Burnt Lake in the absence of color.

So it's back to work for another 5 days and then off to find another place to play. I hope everyone is in good health and taking advantage of whatever living is giving you.

Looking Through the Filter of Perfection

Portland turns into paradise just about this time every year. The flowers have all blossomed and the birds are out chirping. It's almost like a Disney flick, minus the cutesy little fury things (unless you put hippies in that category). I have been trying to take full advantage of the weather by spending as much time away from the television and outside of the house as i can. That may mean i'm chilling on the front porch with Riley, riding my bike up the volcano to catch a last glimpse of the sun before it hides behind the Portland skyline, hiking some of the local and not-so-local trails, or. . .what else but playing football (i'm on a mission to convert the sport's name back to the proper term, please join me). I could probably go on but it would start to get boring (for both of us).

This is the view of Mt Hood from the backside of Mt Tabor. Not a bad view for a Thursday afternoon.

The weekend before this past weekend was my boy Trip's birthday. He turned the big 2-5, talk about old. He celebrated with a weekend long party, if you will. The weekend started off with a night of vicious beer pong. I don't think i've played beer pong in over 5 years and it showed. Not to mention i was surrounded by kids. Trip was the oldest person in the room, next to my geriatric ass. There was no shortage of old man/medicare jokes. I didn't even think kids that age knew about medicare; shows how much i know. Saturday started late and we ended up going to watch the mighty Portland Timbers play Juventes Jr team. I can't remember the final score, on account of the 16 oz beers they were serving, but i think we won, 1-0. After the game we "maxed" (subway, metro, call it whatever you would like) back to "Thrillsborritto" for another wild and crazy (read Scott drank too much cheap beer) night. While we were downtown we had the fortunate experience of catching (far too much of) a glimpse of the Naked Bike Ride. This is a protest of some sort. Portlanders undress and ride their way around town. It is quite the sight to see. If anyone wants to join us next year, let me know.

This past weekend i spent a little time (not as much as i would have liked) in the woods. I took a trip up to Mt Hood for some peace and quiet. I chose to tryout the Ramona Falls loop, located just outside of Zig Zag, Oregon. The trail was pretty quiet on Saturday. Overall the trip wasn't too tough, minus the sketchy river crossing. The Muddy Branch of the Sandy River is fed by the never ending (this doesn't mean global warming isn't real you freaks) supply of glacial melt. This time of year the river is only about 30 feet across but the log "supplied" to cross the river was flimsy, greasy and dangling over rushing, ice cold, dirty, frothing water. It's funny how just a little thrashing water below your feet make something that, over dry land, would be otherwise harmless. Although the river was only 30 or so feet wide the river bed and carnage the river has brought over the years is close to an 1/8th of a mile. I wasn't expecting many more challenges on my trip but the snow"pack" still existed at 3500 feet. There were sections of the trail that disappeared under the remaining snow. This left to some back country meandering but after finding a creek i made my way to a clearer path. The falls, as you have probably already read, are of the cascading, stair step type. I stopped for a few peaceful bites of my Fallafel wrap, sink my teeth into my apple and headed back to the truck. The trip back took me along the banks of the Muddy Branch, which provided me with some good shots of the "hill." The time out in the back country kind of reminded me of the good ol' days with the family running around the wilderness of the Appalachian Mountains or Shenandoah National Forest. Expecting good weather on Sunday i had made plans with Trip and his lady to conquer Saddleback Mountain. I can't tell you how disappointed i was when i woke to grey skies and winter-like showers.

This was the view from my truck as i tried to find Forest Road 1825. I don't mind looking at something like this when i'm driving around lost.

I guess this is what the Forest Service calls a foot bridge here in Oregon.

The river knows no friends. It pretty much takes down whatever it wants in it's path to the mighty Columbia, including old growth forest.

After a short scramble over the downed trees the willing are treated to a view worth writing home about.

I guess this is why the trail was empty on Saturday. Everyone was lost.

Thankfully the trees parted enough to resemble something trail like. I never thought i would need my snowshoes in June.

The wet kicks and tired calves are well worth the trek when you find a lunch spot like this.

Another look at the falls and footbridge that is more up to code.

On my way back to the truck i scrambled back down to the river bed to snap a couple more shots of the mountain, this time i got the man in it too.

Not too much else to say. A week from Thursday Willy will be out here enjoying what Oregon has to offer. Our agenda includes a trip to Crater Lake and a two day raft trip on the North Umpqua river. I'm looking forward to a break from work and some q.t. with the Ol' Man. I'm sure there will be no shortage of antics and pictures that come out of our adventures. Until then. . .

Patience? What Patience?

If anyone has ever told you that it takes patience to learn a something new. . .they are a lying s.o.b. I am making great progress in my desire to learn to ski. And just look how little patience i have! This video and several of the photos listed in this post are proudly brought to you by the hands and eyes of Charles R. W. , aka Deputy Picaboo. Thankfully, his digital equipment does not record sound so we can keep this blog safe for all viewers, even Fiona.

Ryan flew into stumptown Valetine's night and we've been destroying Mt. Hood ever since. The weather deities unleashed the sirens for his visit. Uncommon to PDX this time of year, the skies were clear, the rains ceased and the temp even raised a bit. And. . .today is your lucky day, i'm not in the mood to write, so all you're going to get out of me are pics and captions. Here you go. . . enjoy!

But first. . .some words of caution.Couldn't have said it better myself, "You or your heirs."

So Ryan helped me figure out why i have such a hard time reading maps. It's upside down, stupid!

Here's Ryan trying to make some folks jealous. Ahh, what did we do with ourselves before the camera phone?

I think it's safe to say that we've had a few inches of snow this year. You can see it piling up to the third story of Timberline lodge.

This is only one of many reasons for hitting the mountain on a clear day. That's Mt. Jefferson in the distance. More to come.

Here i am skiing back down to the tree line. Just part of the 1 1/2 mile run we attacked all day.

Here's Ryan trying to keep momentum along the flat lands. All the more reason to ski, poles seem to help in these situations.

No good deed is left unpunished. This is what he gets for all his efforts.

From the top there is only one direction to take. . .it's that way.

Here's the camera man du jour preparing for another downhill photo shoot.

Check out the technique. Not bad for only my 3rd day on the hill.

Some more action shots of Brody doing some serious shredding.

It's pretty easy to get caught up in trying to find the meaning of life. . .i think we found it this weekend.

After a hearty lunch in the lodge the clouds tried to punish our beloved mountain. Everyone was a winner.

Catherine joined us on our 2nd and even more spectacular day. The snow was just right, soft, fast and plentiful.

The mountain rats take a break for some tasty grocery store sandwiches, kettle chips and pop (yes, i said pop).

"Dear Video Diary, Day Two, Portland Oregon. . ."

On our way home my "patience" paid off again. Too antsy to sit in the typical Mt. Hood downhill traffic jam, we took the "long" way around the backside of the mountain. After a quick pit stop in Hood River for some replenishing goodies, we headed back through the Columbia River Gorge and into Portland. No trip through the gorge is complete without a stop at Multnomah Falls. We jumped out to strecth our legs and let Ryan shutter shake off some of its dust.

Vital statistics.

The low light give the picutres a "dreamy" look, according to the photagrapher. I would have to agree.

A whispy shot of the lower falls.

As the cliche states, "All good things must come to an end." And so this trip did, although our successes on the mountain made it very tempting to spend the sabath celebrating the great weather and spirits.

I hope this post finds you all green with envy. If i were you i would be. Although i lock my door every morning when i leave and before i go to bed each night, it's always open. Bring your wax, boots, hat, shorts, gloves, sleeping bag, and of course. . .your camera.