Suffering from neglect

I've seriously neglected my blog this summer. And not for lack of content; mostly because I'm too busy out doing things to sit and write about them. I've been thinking about doing some catch-up, though, so stay tuned! If you follow me on facebook at least you've gotten the abbreviated versions of my summer activities.

Our "transition neighborhood" gets noticed

Portland's Cully neighborhood--that most locals have never heard of--has gotten noticed recently. More specifically, the Ainsworth Street Collective is a loosely organized group of neighbors just one block north of us. We walk down Ainsworth Street almost every day when taking Tucker to the dog park and know several of the residents there.

Apparently, Sunset magazine has a feature on ASC in an upcoming issue and the group appeared on AM Northwest this morning. Ainsworth is a great pocket in otherwise nondescript Cully and deserves the attention. Hopefully it will slow the demise of our home equity as well!

Check out the links:
http://thelocalizer.blogspot.com/
http://www.katu.com/amnw/segments/46828697.html

Spring has Sprung!

Every year, it seems like I leave for a trip in typically cold, wet weather and come home four days later to discover that Spring has occurred. This year was no different. These were all taken in my yard:

Great day on the river!

What better day to spend a rainy spring day than on the river? The great thing about kayaking is that you're wet anyway, so it doesn't really matter if it's raining.

Scott and I slept in, then went to yoga. Then he had to go to work for a few hours, so I made plans to meet one of our paddling buddies out at the Clackamas. The river was up from all the rain this week and since my boating has been more off than on the last couple years due to one injury or another, I opted for the Class II run (borderline Class III at this water level) instead of the more challenging Class III upstream.

The water was pushy and the waves big (well, maybe not BIG big, but pretty big to my low-water paddling self), but less technical than usual since most of the rocks were under water. The run took just over 30 minutes and left me wanting more; on the drive back to Trevor's car, he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to do the upper run?"

By now, the sun was out and confidence was high, so I agreed to go for it. I tried to cheat the first rapid, at Fish Creek, too far to the right and the edge of my boat caught the eddy line on the turn at the bottom and flipped me; I set up to roll and felt like my boat was turned the wrong way to the current. I decided to try it anyway. I nearly came up, but too eager for air, reached up with my head, dropping me back into the 37-degree water. I set up again and waited a few seconds to exit the turbulent water; tried again and made it. My head was splitting from the icy dunking and I caught my breath in an eddy before continuing downstream.

Just around the corner was Armstrong Bridge, a rapid that looks innocuous enough, but probably gives me more trouble than anything else on this river, including the Class IV rapid at Carter Bridge. I set up to enter just left of center and drift into the main current as it pours over a lip and into a hole that often knocks me over. Today the hole was pretty flushed out and Trevor and I both floated right through into some swirly water at the end.

I managed to go down most of Big Eddy up on my right edge; I stayed upright by dropping my head to the right and working my paddle back and forth until my left edge dropped back down to the surface.

We finally reached Toilet Bowl--a long, rocky drop with three giant waves at the bottom. Today, most of the rocks were covered, eliminating usual picking your way down. I hugged the edge of two big holes on the left side, hoping to make my way farther left to avoid the biggest waves at the bottom. They came crashing in from different angles, big, frothing piles of turbulent foam towering over head. But the current tugged my boat to the right, depositing me directly into the meat of the rapid. Nothing to do but dig in, paddle hard, and hope for the best. The first wave hit me hard in the face, blinding me and taking my breath away with the cold. I blindly plunged my paddle into the water and braced for the next wave.

We were a little high on adrenaline as we loaded boats in the truck. I celebrated a great river run with an oatmeal stout back at home.

It was no surprise that the best part of my day occurred while riding my bike. Friday morning, I finally got around to putting slicks on my 'cross bike so I can use it as a road bike during the non-'cross season.

The tire changing is fodder for a blog post of its own--let's just suffice it to say that after 45 minutes, a blister and a punctured tube, I threw tires and wheels in the truck and drove down to my LBS and forked over cold hard cash for someone else to do the dirty work for me.

Finally, chores done, dog walked, I suited up for a nice long ride on a sunny February day. By the time I rolled down the driveway, the clear blue had given way to a high but solid layer of cloud. Oh, well. At least it wasn't raining.

Fighting the wind all the way down Marine Drive toward Troutdale, I argued with myself about how far I would go. I planned to ride to Crown Point, 25 miles away, but I haven't done much riding the past few months and the wind was taking its toll. I would still get a good workout if I turned back early.

Pushing on, I left Troutdale and crossed the Sandy River, then turned onto the Scenic Gorge Highway, enjoying a reprieve from the wind. A few miles later, I came upon a large man in sweats pushing an old Trek road bike with a flat front tire. I stopped to offer help--I had tools, patch kit and spare tube. He declined the offer, saying he was almost home, but thanked me anyway. We talked for a few minutes.

Over the course of the past year, this guy has lost over 100 pounds. He rides his bike daily from Troutdale to Lloyd Center and back, an hour 45 each way, he told me. He started this on a bet with a friend and feels so good he could never go back. Oh yeah, he quit smoking, too. He was quite passionate about riding and wishing he knew other people who shared his enthusiasm.

It was the kind of encounter that puts a smile on your face. I was inspired to push on to Crown Point after all.

Via Rail: The Canadian

I awoke this morning to a very loud announcement making the second call to breakfast. When I raised the blind to look outside, I was nearly blinded by white. We were nearing Saskatoon in a snowstorm and the sky was nearly as white as the vast expanse of snow-covered Saskatchewan farmland.

We boarded the train at 5 p.m. yesterday after 48 hours in Jasper. Sunday, we rented a car and drove the Icefields Parkway along the Continental Divide through Jasper and Banff National Parks. We made a few scenic stops, including one at Lake Louise where skiers were crossing the frozen lake while teenagers played ice hockey. We had lunch and walked the streets of Banff Town before making the three hour drive back to Jasper for an excellent dinner at Evil Dave's Grill.

Sunday, Scott and I went for a cross country ski up Mt. Edith Cavell Road; Dad and Liz walked for an hour and returned to the trailhead to pick us up in time to shower, return skis and rental car and board the train. It was good to get the blood flowing before settling in for three more nights and two days on the train.

We signed up for the late dinner sitting and enjoyed drinks in our room as we watched the last of the Rockies go by in the waning daylight. My steak was melt-in-your mouth tender and the halibut was tender and flaky. I was eager for bed after getting up early three days in a row, but Scott stayed in the dome of the Park Car until after midnight, enjoying the solitude and quiet rocking of the train.

This train is much quieter than the first, with fewer passengers and a helpful but not overbearing staff. We made a brief stop during lunch in Melville for a train crew change. We lose the service staff tonight when we arrive in their home base of Winnipeg—too bad because we really like them.

This afternoon we get to sample Canadian wines and cheeses in the Park Car. The sun got really bright for a couple hours, but today has been a steady stream of white. It looks quite inhospitable outside!

VIA Rail: Day One

The champagne flowed in the dome of the Park Car as the train rolled out of Vancouver Station at 8:30 p.m. We enjoyed the nighttime view as the train crept through the city under a nearly full moon and were later rocked to sleep by the steady motion.

We arrived in Vancouver without incident and met my dad and Liz, who arrived over an hour ahead of us, at the airport. We took a cab to the train station to check our luggage, then the Skytrain two stops to Granville Street to do some banking, have lunch, and stock up on liquor for the road, er, I mean rail. We made a brief tour of Stanley Park and enjoyed drinks and an early dinner at the Fish House overlooking the bay and the sunset. The bus delivered us back at the station in plenty of time to enjoy the Silver and Blue lounge prior to boarding the train.

We always try to give still-valid bus passes to needy passengers and got "Ay, I have a dog, ay," as a response to the first offer--translated to mean, "How the fuck am I going to use that? I have a dog!" A moment later, though, we heard, "Ay, thanks, ay!"

We awoke this morning when the train stopped in Kamloops in the still-dark pre-dawn. We had breakfast in the dining car with a retired couple from Arkansas. He was a defense attorney for part of his career, so he and Scott had lots to talk about. Many Southerners on the train including a woman about my age who is a prosecutor in Aniston, Alabama, traveling with her mother. Two older gentlemen from Rome, Georgia brought back a lot of college memories.

We spent much of the day in the dome when we could get seats, enjoying the view as we approached the Rockies. We were a bit disappointed to arrive in Jasper 40 minutes early.

Here are some shots from today's journey. Tomorrow we drive the Icefields Parkway to Banff. Monday we'll cross country ski at Maligne Lake before getting back on the train to continue across the prairie to Toronto.