Seward Pheonix Log Story

Van Williams of the Seward newspaper wrote this story after interviewing both Erik and I following our finish in the Mayor's Marathon and Half Marathon last weekend up in Anchorage.

Find the story on The Seward Pheonix Log website.

Happy Solstice!

Heli kayaking into Bear Glacier

I've had a few half day trips into Bear Glacier so far this season.  We take a flight from the Seward airport and land on the gravel bar near the outflow from the lake where gigantic icebergs bob in frigid waters.

A few photos from these trips.  

Co-pilot in the air edging the Harding Icefield.

White Bear Lake Represents

I discovered this sign mingling with a mix of thousands in the Sign Forest, an attraction along the Alaska Highway affectionately claimed by Watson Lake.  The Yukon Territory had many surprises, but standing next to the marker of my hometown - where one identical to this still stands to this day along at the edge of town not far from my parents home (I think?) - brought a big smile to my face.  A slice of home in a land far away.   

Paddling in Alaska

So after 2 months of no contact, at least via this blog, I have some updates.  You may have guessed that I made it to Alaska by now. Living down on the Kenai Peninsula in Seward leaves little to the imagination.  This place is beautiful and powerful.  The weather has been fantastic and hopefully will continue.  The days haven't been full of work so I have tried to mix in paddling, running, racquetball, hiking, biking, and most recently some long-boarding.  

Hopefully guiding will pick up soon.  Otherwise I have another half marathon up in Anchorage in a few weeks.  Moose Pass which is just a little up the road from us here hosts a pretty stellar solstice celebration and a regional celebrity by the name of Hobo Jim entertains us all on Sundays at the Yukon Bar.  

Been meeting lots of local folks and getting a grasp of where exactly I am.  I have bounced around between restlessness in not being settled and then comfort in exactly that.  It's a weird mix.  

Tischer is doing well.  She gets to swim regularly at Bear Lake and even in Resurrection Bay now and again.  I don't want to spend too much time here (even though I haven't spent any at all in a while) because it's near 70 degrees and sunny out there, and that isn't normal for here.  I need some time on the water.  And a trail run.  

Gazing around the fire at Bear Glacier Lagoon.

Race for the Roses Photos

Just as Drew and I were making our way over the Steele Bridge towards the finish line of our Half Marathon run, I spotted Kirk, Julia, and Erin.  They had come out to cheer us on, and their location couldn't have been more perfect.  The last little incline up onto the bridge was with about .1 left in the race, and familiar faces in the crowd is what I wanted to see at that point.

These are pictures Kirk took from the bridge, and a couple just after crossing the finishing.  Medals and roses for all!  Check out my post on the race a little down the page with details of my effort.

Feeling good entering the final sprint.

Drew and I smelling the roses.

A solid running partner and a "shout out" to Cup'n'Cone

Photos are coming!

I have a new digital camera on its merry way.  

First an experiment:  After 3 years of living at the ski cabin, I am going to find out if UPS will actually deliver to "my residence."  PO Boxes are out and I've always had stuff shipped to friends in Ptown because I was hesitant to use my rural physical address.  I might have to go down to the main loop road to meet the driver, but that is still success in my eyes (assuming I'm around when he/she comes).

Of course this means an onslaught of pictures once I get it in my hands.  Beware.  But also be excited.  I know I am!

Race for the Roses Half Marathon

This past Sunday morning I ran my first half marathon through downtown Portland.  Nearly 4,000 runners participated between the half and 5k.  I ran with my friend Drew.  We enjoyed the course which brought us over the Steele Bridge twice, weaving through downtown, and along the Willamette River.  The sunrise was stunning and led into a brilliant day.  

As an ode to Cup'n'Cone back in good ole White Bear Lake, I wore their shirt before going shirtless halfway through.  My final time was 1 hour and 42 minutes, which means I ran under an eight minute mile.  I placed 285 out of 2,131 half marathon finishers.  My only goal was to finish in under 2 hours.  

I am very pleased to say that I am thrilled with the results.  In fact, almost surprised.  

A few not so great photos are up, taken by the official race photographers.  Kirk was nice enough to snap a few goodies on the bridge with .1 left in the race, so when I get them I'll put them up too.

Bring on the races.  

After the Deschutes: The promise of beer

My April column for The Mountain Times.

"It was a year ago that I took Tischer up the Gorge for a few nights at Deschutes River State Park. For the cost of two micro beers in Govy I pitched a tent on a green manicured lawn next to the swift river just before it joins the Columbia River."

To read the rest of this story click HERE.

Bill willing, some Crater photos are posted

Check out his postjock blog for some photos from our Crater Lake circumnavigation and a really well written post about his thoughts leading into the trip and  subsequent reaction afterwards.  

Photo by Bill Amos

Is it really March 28th?!

Where has this month - this season - gone?  Already the end of March, even though sitting at my window seeing the snow whip down outside, a sunburn on my face, and cold toes it doesn't much feel like April is right around the corner.  

And again it has happened.  My last post was a few weeks ago.  Partly because I've been having a sweet month and not sitting around the computer as much.  So, my approach this time is to go back and post according (or as close as I can get) to the dates things happened.  This means you'll have to scroll down to see previous entries even though you've been checking daily (I take a swig of dark while typing this word) and nothing has been there since the 12th.  Or was it the 12th?  You'd better check...

Crater Lake Ski Circumnavigation

I just typed and deleted no fewer than 14 intros for this post.  This trip was so fantastic I don't know how to lead into it.  Nothing would do it justice.

From the beginning:  Last Saturday I woke up completely surprised by a nasty head cold.  Somewhere in the middle of the night I was awakened mid-dream with a funky nasal taste (graphic?  it should be) and immediately rolled over in hopes that sleeping on my left side would ward off pre-trip illness.  Turns out my left side only breeds it.

I packed deliberately in between huddling under my covers while my body exchanged sweating for shivering as if I were jumping from sauna to snow and back.  But this wasn't the enjoyable kind.  Because of this I was forced to shift our departure time back on Sunday, and thus Bill had to wait around for my sick ass to show up - clutching his skis and wearing his pack probably with his eyes closed picturing us cruising down I-5 and far away from Ptown.

After a 7 hour long drive and some wintry conditions we eventually rolled into the Rim Village at Crater Lake.  A quick bowl of chili and a frigid piss outside the van led us to warm sleeping bags in Bill's built-to-live-in soccer mom van (look for the sticker on the back window).  

The next morning was cold, but clear.  With sun creeping over the elevation to our east we stepped inside the Ranger Station for our backcountry permit.  And then we were off.

For this trip, our two objectives were to ski around the entire lake along the Rim Drive and to try for some turns in an area called Mount Scott.  For these purposes we chose to use our Alpine Touring skis with skins, not the best for cross country travel but would offer us the chance at claiming some higher viewing points (with the descent in mind).  The distance is approximately 31 miles by the road, and the elevation at the highest is almost 9,000 feet.  The road itself hovers around 6,500 feet and the the highest we slept at was 7,700, on a day when we knew Mount Scott lingered just beyond our limited visibility.  

We travelled clockwise around.  On day two we crossed one other group of 5  heading the opposite direction, the only other people we would see until back in the parking lot (only to find out after we had finished that they needed the assistance of a satellite phone and the ski patrol to find their way home).  

Later that day during a break from slogging along I sat on top of my pack with no shirt on.  The sun was lowering but still powerful and warm and my sweaty shoulders and back were thankful.  That night we set up camp while the sun was still out to dry our tent and bags, and Bill and I sat around the pot of melting snow writing in our journals and stretching our legs, ski bootless (felt so nice!).

We fell asleep that night with a slight fear of an expectant cold because of the clear evening.  However we opened our eyes to snow and somewhat high winds.  Or so we thought high winds, turns out the breeze at camp was nothing compared to the gusts along exposed areas of the eastern rim that we would cross later in the day.

When the Rim Drive isn't running directly along the upper contour of the caldera (like it does on the north side) it does a fairly good job of meandering back to overlook the rim whenever features allow.  Such was the case on the east side and it was at these points that Bill and I braced ourselves against some of the highest winds I've ever had to endure on skis and with a pack.  At points I would just stop in a four point stance and simply try to maintain my position.  

It came in waves, and made me feel like an awkward drunk.  I had little control, except when short lulls allowed for hasty movement forward towards anything that blocked the full force of mother nature building strength across the entire openness of Crater Lake.  It blew me over twice.  I screamed into it, my voice lost in the noise from the moment it left my lips.

Visibility was so poor from there on out that when we reached a point where we knew the road existed we decided to hole up for the night on the solace of knowing the road would indeed be near us in the morning.  We were right at the base of Mount Scott.  No turns for us.

The next two days were blue, sunny, and warm.  More stunning views and landscapes.  More slogging along with skins on.  More triumph at each days end.  More delicious hot dinners.  More time for journal writing.  More avalanche bypass routes.  And more miles to put under our belt. 

The last, from the park Headquarters back up to the Rim Village where we had parked was probably the toughest.  Because we knew it was the last and because it was getting hot and the trees were literally raining down on us with widow-maker residue.  

Waiting for us in the parking lot was the van with two 24oz PBR's and a half bag of crackers.  Again, warm sun on our bare shoulders and conversation, we relished in the accomplishment of the previous five days.  I had managed to lose a head cold in the backcountry.  We had managed not to have an epic, though the trip will rank high in my book of adventure.  

For some really amazing pictures from this trip, check out Bill's postjock blog.  He does some good work with the camera and keyboard alike.

My Winter Love Story

The Mt Hood Magazine blog is finally up and running, as far as I can tell at least, and with it is my winter love story that I wrote for their "Straight from the Heart" section a few months back.  I think it reads better than the short blurb on the main mag's site.

"Once when I was in college I took a girlfriend up the shore of Lake Superior to a lodge for a romantic night during a cold winter. Wrapped up on a rug next to the fireplace, we cuddled and nibbled on homemade cookies that she had decorated for our getaway.

Later, dozens of candles illuminated the water of the hot tub and our voices whispered softly for hours. It was comfortable and cozy despite the frigid waves crashing out the front window, and looking into her eyes late that night I knew I loved her."

To read the rest of this story, click HERE.

Backpacking the lower Deschutes River

Tischer and I met friends Erin and Kirk in Hood River on Sunday night for a big cookie and a pint to start our 3 day backpacking trip.  We tucked into a campsite at Deschutes River State Park, where the Duschutes empties into the Columbia River, late that night for a campfire under clear and chilly skies.  Holy cats, the stars!

For whatever reason, we all slept in really late the next morning, waking only upon hearing a park worker fire up a chain saw.  This delayed start to the day would prove to shift our entire "schedule" back for the rest of the trip, though you would hear more laughs about it from us than complaints.  

After shuttling to our trail head 23 miles south of our final destination where we left my truck, the three of us enjoyed lunch in Erin's car at 4 in the afternoon while snow blew hard around us.  It was cold, but still we set out along the old railroad grade that would lead us along the Lower Deschutes River all the way to its mouth.  

We dropped into and climbed out of 4 different drainage's where train trellises no longer spanned across.  We pulled headlamps out when the the scrambling got dark, and we turned them off when the nearly full moon shed its light on our path.

While dinner cooked at our camp that night, Erin put together a masterful fire for our cold fingers and toes, and we passed the flask to warm the rest.  Tischer and I cuddled in my solo while Kirk and Erin made every attempt to ward off the chill next to me, wearing every piece of clothing they had.  

The next day was cold, windy and gray again.  Who said the high desert was warm and friendly this time of year?!  My bad.  Having covered more than we thought the previous day/night, we made our way along the second half of the rail trail, which is maintained as a bike and stock trail.  Simply a matter of cruising the double wide path along the east side of a fast moving body of water.  Not too challenging.

That night we rambled into an old rail car situated alongside the trail.  I've never slept in a train car before.  

Latest from Mt Hood Magazine

The Feb/Mar issue of Mt Hood Magazine is finally published.  Check out www.mthoodmagazine.com to read three stories of mine.  The top two on dining and lodging come straight from my fingertips.  

The third is my winter love story.  While you can read a portion of it, the link to read its entirety on the Magazine's blog isn't working properly.  The story appears a lot different from how I submitted it, for better or for worse, I can't tell yet.