Naughty Boy

I hear the thing about blogging (if that's what you would call this) is that you need to put stuff up if you want people to visit. I haven't been very good about that lately. But. . .i'm back with a vengence. . .okay, maybe not such a vengence but at least i return bearing pictures. Enough to keep me up to the wee hours of the night loading on to this new post.

When i left my homeland for the far reaches of the Pacific Northwest there are many things i could have become; homeless (creating off smelling summer puddles), mascarading as a homeless man (accepting gourmet pizzas from unsuspecting nice folk [bastard]), a nike employee, or. . .as the history channel has recently revealed. . .an "AxMan." I became none of the above. What i have become in my "senior" twenties is something i never saw coming; the voice of reason. I don't know what has happened to my deviantly minded old self but i think i may have lost him. A companion of mine, knowing my historical. . .let's call it "moral flexibility. . .has been pushing her limits. The other day on a camping trip she attempted to steal newspaper from the wood guy and me, of all people, said, "no, let's just play by the rules (or something lame like that)." You could have possibly convinced me i would become one of the things listed about but the "voice of reason" i never would have believed you. Getting old sucks. What's next? A rascal scooter or a Craft-matic adjustable bed?

Oh. . .and i became one of these too.

I have been pretty busy the last few weeks/month. I've gotten a year older, co-hosted a cooking lesson (really i just pay rent and my roommate did all the work), nearly rear-ended an SUV on my bike, and got a tan (maybe not such a big deal for those in my sunny locals but here in the NW it's unheard of [at least natural tans are]). Instead of writing your eyes loose, i'll just post some pics.

Dan, my well liked roommate from the north country, has a friend who is a cook at a resturaunt that has been rated Resturaunt of the Year for 2007 by both the Willamette Week and Portland Monthly. She kindly volunteered to come into our cramped little kitchen and teach several of us how to cook just like her (aka have us watch her cook delicous food). Now for those of you who haven't visited Portland, our food scene is out of this world! Words do it no justice, so to have such a distinguished chef in the house was quite an honor. Here are a few shots from that night.

Dan is supervises the kitchen operations.
Bria scopes out the menu for the evening. As you can see. . .bachelors don't really keep wine glasses handy.
I have no idea what the hell this leafy green is but it was damn tastey.

A stovetop full of goodies.

Dan's drunk and i'm sober. . .go figure :)

For those of you who may have not known. . .i had a birthday recently. Being the pooper i always am, i didn't really do much. The weekend prior to the big day i decided to get away and head to the coast. As you can see in this video it was a perfect weekend to lay on the beach and catch what the Pac NW is best known for this time of year, some liquid (frozen solid) sunshine.

No March trip to the coast is right without a snow covered trip through the costal range

Even my beloved Toyota felt the nip in the air.

The video above was brought to you by this little off-shore storm.

Fiona eat your heart out.
I took a four day weekend this past week; a chance to get away from the office and enjoy myself. I had planned on a backpacking trip in the Olympics or something in the less snow ridden, eastern Oregon. Instead i ended up in Salem, my state's fine capitol. All-in-all a gross, hideous sight; a puss filled zit on the chin of a young girl getting ready for prom, if you will. Who ever would have though that this same hideous town is so close to one of Oregon's many gems. Instead of venturing off, on battered feet, into the wilderness, i parked my truck about 30 yards from my tent (and my f'ing neighbors), pulled out the ol' Coleman 2-burner, and a cooler full of delicousness. Yes. . .i car camped. A friend and I went to Silver Falls state park for our little weekend getaway. Silver Falls is Oregon's largest state park and just as majestic as it is massive. The Canyon Trail is a 7 mile loop that follows a meandering creek. The low-flowing creek provides it's guests with 10 waterfalls. Pictures say a thousand words (not that i haven't already used more than that by now, but i'll save you another thousand).

Every good camp trip needs a good chef. Bria prepares our feast for the first night, halibut with lemon zest (done via pocket knife) dill and vegan butter. Dinner is served. A side of brown basmati rice and salad pulls the meal together. Oh and a little Henry McKenna to wet the palate
And for dessert. . .what else but S'mores

A fireside jam session completed the night.

And in the morning. . .toast, potatoes, and a delicious smoked salmon egg scramble. . .
. . .and tea. . .
. . .and sunshine, glorious sunshine.
I think the phrase "pictures don't do it justice" is over played so. . .for perspective. . .those little white things you see to the left are specators

Safety first. This was taken as we made our way behind the first falls.

. . .and for lunch. . .water and mojo bars (actually we had a delicous turkey, avacado, tomato and spicy mustard sandwhich, not pictured)

This was the last waterfall before the trail turned into the woods. Hopefully you can get a feel for how deep the overhang is. The defined line that arcs from left to right is the trail as it sweeps behind the falls.

With lots of moisture comes a lot of moss, green, fuzzy moss. These were the stairs taking us out of the canyon and back up to the Rim Trail.

I hope you enjoyed the pictures. It's not just rouding midnight and i have people to micro manage tomorrow and a soccer game to cry over. If you made it this far. . .i hope all is well.

The beautiful thing about Portland is. . .

The easy answer would obviously be the surrounding natural beauty; the 30 minute drive into the Columbia River Gorge, the 60 minute drive to the year-round snow capped Mt Hood, the 90 minute drive to the rocky Oregon coast, or any of the undulating forests in between. But those answer are all to obvious and thus. . .to easy. The real beauty about Portland is. . .it's women. Just to clarify, it's not all the woman in pdx but rather a specific sub group. Not the hipsters on Alberta street, the Pearl girls, or the dreaded, unbathed hippies of the southeast. . .but the lovely footballing chicas of the north. Portland is home of. . .University of Portland. U of P has been known to produce some of the finest women footballers in American women's footballing history. Well. . .guess what. . .i have been fortunate enough to play with several of our local products. I am currently playing on three teams, all of which have superb talent. My Tuesday team, Smut Koala (a name i wished i had come up with myself but apparently there are others just as creative in this city), has the privilege of our goal being tended by one of the best. But seriously, where else would you expect a woman of this caliber to go after returning from training with the US Women's National Team but our very own Smut Koala? To put things in perspective, she's not an indoor keeper and it was obvious in her first game playing with "Smutty." She charged hard out of the area and plowed a few players down in the process. In her second game she took to the new venue and, although we lost, frustrated the opposing team's strikers. All i know is. . .i'm in love with footballing women. Not in the biblical sense because. . .let's be honest, they are a typically a little too "sturdy" for my taste. But damn if i don't love them anyway.

Speaking of love. . .have i mentioned how much i love being able to travel by bike in this city? I must have mentioned this once or twice. I sometimes find myself suffering with bouts of schizophrenia. When driving, i hate all bikers, they are brazen and most of them have a death wish. When i'm biking i hate cars, pedestrians, and even a lot of my fellow bikers (typically just those in spandex, the slow movers in yellow rain gear don't bother me so much). Just today, on my ride home, i had a woman (not a footballer obviously) stop her car and shake her finger at me. That's right mom. . .this woman had the nerve to shake her finger at your baby. Some people. The story goes: I was nearing a traffic circle and per standard biking protocol, rolled through the stop sign (which if you ask me, traffic circles were designed so that you didn't need a stop sign in the first place). Surprisingly, she saw me coming and stopped her car before i ever reached the intersection. I just smiled and waved as i took advantage of her courtesy. Hell. . .she didn't even have a stop sign but she let me go anyway. Maybe she was too busy worrying about that twitching hand of hers.

So while i'm spilling all these loving feelings i get an ache in my stomach. I can only be complimentary for so long. . .right? As many states are diligently enforcing rules about using cell phones while driving (honestly they'd be better off making public places smoke free), Stumptown is a cell phone users paradise. Not only can you chat away while driving but you can text too. Better yet. . .i've seen people riding their bikes and talking on their cell phone. Even better than that (but wait there's more!), in the past week i have passed two (count them, two) people texting and biking at the same time. No hands on the handlebars, no eyes looking ahead for stop sign running cars (because bikers never run stop signs. . .oh wait) but just sheer, mindless texting. Now that's what i call freedom. By the way, Portland has passed a smoking ban this will take effect Jan 1, 2009.

That's it. short (i think) and sweet. I needed to get that all out of my head before i could get some sleep. Sorry i don't have any pics to post but it's hard to ride and shoot at the same time but i'll work on it.

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.

Spank Me

A snow covered Pacific Crest Trail. Nothing is better.

Sorry i've been so bad about posting the last few weeks. I wish i had a good excuse but i don't, although i was nearly abducted by hippies (another day friends). I took a break from the left coast and shot across the country to visit the ol' fam. Going home is always a tale of two trips. Since i moved to Portland i have been telling my mom and willy that they screwed up (i know, i know, it's obvious enough, i don't need to rub it in) and raised me in the wrong area. Hell. . .i think the whole family would have loved growing up out here. But it is always easier to say that if you don't know any different. Spending time in VA makes me miss the people i left behind. I miss spending time with my family and some of my long-time friends. I even miss the pets that live there. Despite the people, the connections and furry critters, i belong here and it's a challenge to find peace with the distance between me and my kin.


Amazingly, there are tones of home in pdx. Christina, for example. I went to high school with Christina and she just so happens to live down the street (for now, she's moving to N. Portland). It's nice having at least a few people around who understand where i come from.


A few weeks ago Christina and i went for a snowshoe trip. I probably should have been up on the mountain working on my 1080 jackaroo tail grab but even Brody needs a break every once in a while. It wasn't the best day for shredding; in fact it was a pretty bad day for snowshoeing. We left Portland with the standard precipitation falling. I think we had both hoped that it would turn into the white fluffy stuff once we started gaining some elevation but we weren't so lucky. We choose the Twin Lakes loop trail which turned out to be a pretty good idea. What really turned out to be the good idea was to leave at 8 am. We headed up the trail and didn't see another soul. Made a quick trip around the lake, plopped our asses in the snow banks and ate some lunch (pb&j on jewish rye and some potato salad from New Seasons). A few sips of whiskey would have been nice to thaw the bones before we started back downhill but SOMEone didn't think ahead (so much for being raised by a boy scout). On our way back to the parking lot we passed about 3 groups of 15+ people. That's where leaving at 8 am pays off. I snapped a few pics of our adventure.

Here's Christina standing next to the snow pole. It shows a solid 6 1/2 feet of snow are below her feet.

This is the view as you decend onto the first lake. The fog made for a nice setting.

Here we are looking at a rather soggy map trying to figure out where we are. I've never been much of one to know how to read a map. I certainly didn't learn this day either.

What the map didn't show or i couldn't read (you be the judge) was this kick ass rope swing.

I will have been living in Portland for 3 years this April and in my short time here i have seen and heard many things, outrageous, hairy, smelly, funny, unbelievable things. I may venture to say this one takes the egg, milk and butter free cake. I was informed by a co-worker or friend, i can't remember, that a new strip club opened in town. This isn't news i typically receive seeing as there are about 500 strip clubs in the metro area and they are opening and closing all the time. But this strip club is a noteworthy strip club. Now. . .i'm all for the liberal, love everyone and everything mentality of the Pacific NW but this strip club takes it to the next level. No, there aren't any donkey shows. This place is Portland's first, one, only and most likely last (and short lived) strip club of it's kind. And it figures it was opened by a Californian transplant. It's our very own vegan strip club. Some may ask, "Scott, what exactly is a vegan strip club?" Well my friends, i will tell you. As disgusting as it may sound many strip clubs in this city serve food (pervs have to eat too). The Acropolis on 99 south is known for it's $5.99 16oz NY Strip steak special, Mary's Go Go conveniently has a back door to El Grillo (Mexican food and strippers, ummmmmmm). This new joint, instead of steaks or chicken chimichangas, serves vegan only fare. Now vegans can enjoy rump shaking while they eat their Tofurky Melts. I hear the strippers still follow standard upkeep rules but many are vegan or vegetarian themselves. I have gotten to know a few vegans in my time here and trust me. . .the last thing you to see is a vegan naked on a stage next to a pole. Okay, maybe the last thing you want to see is a naked vegan walk behind the pole, they would disappear all together. All jokes aside, my mom always told that you shouldn't judge people until you have a chance to know them. So. . .i'll let you know what i think. Maybe i'll have some more pics to post next time.

That's about all the energy i have for now (really i'm splashing on some cheap sage oil cologne, my hemp shoes and headed out to the vegan joint). Keep it clean.

Baby Blues

Today was probably the best Sunday i have had in some time. Really, the whole weekend was pleasant. And now i'm topping it off by putting up a few pics of my recent antics with the wee man sitting in my lap purring away. Ahhhh, life is good.

Nothing beats a yota in the snow, plus it makes for a great staging area.

The morning started off with quick jaunt up the hill with Catherine P. for some powder tossing. I say morning but we didn't really leave town until 10. We scooped up our 12-4 passes and headed to our alpine chariots. Our first run was designed for the crawlers and bawlers (i was neither, thank you). We took it up a notch and moved onto "Easy Street," a nice winding green with some good pace and even better snow. Things got a little crowded on the greens so there was only one option, Blue, baby blue. "Mt Hood Lane" started with a step drop and nothing but butter the rest of the ride down. I took a few "soft" spills, not even enough to pop my planks off. After that i was juiced on the blues and left the softer greens for the snowplowing kiddies. I must give thanks to Catherine for the motivation and taunting that got me over that first edge (thanks).

This is the face of one happy lad.

A lonely chair has its moment in the sun, a brief moment but sun nonetheless.

We decided on Skibowl per Dan's suggestion and the financials of the whole thing. The cost for a 4-hour ticket is softer on the pocket than at any of the other spots on the hill. I had heard grumblings of a "Warming Hut" mid-mountain. I didn't really know what to expect but what we found was a real gem. This "Warming Hut" is an old and apparently sturdy, wooden shack. But this isn't your everyday shack, they have exactly what ever good carver needs, beers, a nice big fireplace and. . . sausage. What more can you want to break up a long day of running the groomers?

Liquid warmth awaits!

This is the face of an even happier lad about to get his beer and sausage on.

The face of a happy lass that doesn't know that sausage awaits (easy pervs, it's not like that)!

After the beers and sausage we had to pick a few last runs to round out the day. We decided on another run down "Dog Leg" and transitioning over to "Fire Hydrant" to take us back to the Cascade lift. After that it was back up the hill down an uncharted blue "Middle Reynolds" to the Multorpor Lift for another shot down "Mt. Hood Lane."

Map reading 101. Be sure to have the right equipment; a map. . .and a beer.

The plan was perfect and would have been executed to the same perfection but we didn't calculate for the 3-Close skiers to swarm the lifts. When we got to the foot of the Cascade lift the line was large and far from in charge. By the time we got into our chariot, our chances for another two runs were slim. We settled for another trip down "Dog Leg" and "Fire Hydrant." No complaints here. It was a great day to be on the mountain and i'm happy i had the company to nudge me over that ledge.

To round out my pre-blogging evening, i played a little co-ed indoor football (the real stuff). I expected to be slow and uselss but i think the skiing did something to my legs because they moved gracefully and led to a hat-trick. I ripped of a beauty of a side volley from about 20 yards out that slammed off the top corner and deflected itself into the unsuspecting (lucky son of a bitch) keeper. So close!

Peace and fresh powder grease!

Gone Shreddin'

A picture is worth a thousand words.