Cross Crusade #1

As I drove through downtown on my way to the Alpenrose Dairy Velodrome, I saw the throngs of runners 15 minutes into the Portland Marathon cruising along Front Street, a backdrop for the glassy Willamette River in the almost dawn light. Seven years ago when I lined up for my 10th marathon and second Portland, I had never heard of cyclocross. Now I felt only a mild twinge of envy, looking forward to a day of cowbells, pommes frites, and Bob's Red Mill oatmeal.

I pulled up behind my teammate Jeff's blue Sprinter van as I exited the freeway. Perfect timing! My race wasn't until 2pm, but I volunteered to arrive early and help set up the team tent on the front lines of the course. The dairy grounds were cool and quiet in a light fog with few signs of the chaos and insanity that would ensue.

It only took a few minutes to pop the awning on the Sprinter and erect the Showers Pass tent next to it, but early arrival is essential to enjoying the front-row view of the course. I also got through the registration line quickly and rode the course before it closed for a full day of racing with a record turnout of almost 1,500 riders turning three to six laps each of the 2.1-mile course featuring two sets of barriers, a flight of concrete stairs, and a steep hill run-up.

The Beginner Men kicked off the day at 9am. I settled in for a day of cheering, heckling and cowbell ringing. I warmed up on the trainer while I watched my friends Peter, Neal and Russ in the single-speed race. Then I went to line up for my race, fighting some pre-race jitters despite telling myself it was just for fun and it didn't matter how I finished.

When the start whistle sounded, I found myself in the middle of a situation I planned to always avoid--dozens of fast-moving cyclists rounding corners on pavement at high speed. This is why I don't road race! I took a few deep breaths to calm myself and settled into the pack as we made the third turn onto the grass, dirt and gravel course. I was farther back than I wanted to be and worried about getting boxed in, but also wanted to slow my heart rate and not feel panicked.

A long, bumpy downhill, then a sharp right turn uphill to a sharp left turn. My friend Jake (the pommes frites vendor) had warned me earlier to gear down before the climb to ride past everyone who got stuck in high gear and had to walk the hill. I remembered and clicked down several gears on the descent, then cut to the inside of the turn, riding past several riders who sling-shotted to the outside. I stood up on the climb and made another pass on the second turn before getting boxed in on the singletrack through the trees. After a couple tight turns, the course widened for a downhill straight-away then made a quick u-turn before climbing the straight-away--some good passing opportunities.

A couple more corners, flat straight-aways, then a bumpy, twisting descent to the bottom of the run-up. I got up the run-up well, but did not remount smoothly, losing some of my gained ground before entering the velodrome for some loop-de-loops and barrier hopping. The course climbs as it exits the velodrome, catering to my strengths and presenting additional passing opportunities. I stood the climb and scooted past several more riders. Some more tight turns, the second set of barriers, then a paved flat to gear up and hammer. Then a 180 to the stairs. One lap down!

Much to my surprise, I continued to feel strong and moved up every lap, finally finishing in 15th place out of over 50 in the Women's Category B race. The entire last lap, I went back and forth with a girl in a blue jersey that I just couldn't seem to lose. I would pass her on a straight-away but lose ground to her on the barriers or stairs. I passed her just before the run-up, but she overtook me at the top and I just couldn't catch her again. We talked afterward--her name is Kelly and she's a student at U. of O. She's new to the area and doesn't really know anyone; it was her first 'cross race (and my second) and she had a blast. It was a fun rivalry.

The pro race is the last event of the day and truly amazing to watch. Ryan Trebon gets his 6'7" frame up the steep hill in about two strides. He doesn't even have to hop the barriers. The fluid technique and superhuman speed is something to behold.

Next Sunday, 1,500 racers will be back for more, this time at Ranier High School a few miles down the Columbia River.

40th Birthday Hike in Glacier Peak Wilderness.

That's right--I'm 40! How the F--- did that happen? And no, we didn't go to Glacier National Park--that's in Montana. Glacier Peak is one of the tallest mountains in Washington's North Cascade range and has a wilderness area named after it.

As always, my objective is to get up high--above timberline where there there's lots of granite, wildflowers and glacial lakes. To that end, I planned the first day to be long and hard, to get to the destination, so we could leisure it and enjoy the scenery for a few days. Loaded for five days, we set out up the North Fork of the Sauk River, pretty mellow at first. But two miles in, we crossed the river and started up Pilot Ridge.

The trail ascends unapologetically, gaining elevation at an astounding rate. Water sources are few and small this late in the season, so we filled up where we could and rationed well. We were tempted by a sparse campsite on the low end of the ridgetop, but the long hike to water kept us pressing on. Sweating and heaving, we only took a couple breaks on the 11.7-mile trudge, punishing ourselves for our late start. I did start to lag behind as we proceeded up the ridgeline as I found the mother lode of huckleberry harvests and couldn't resist the temptation to snack.

At about the point where we decided to rename the trip my "40th Birthday Death March," Scott said, "You know, Sherman, a lot of women just want dinner and a movie for their birthday." He even said he would have flown me to Maine for dinner at Conti's, this place that we sampled once and have fantasized about ever since. We laughed, but I knew the reward would be worth it.

We trudged into Blue Lake just moments before dark, dropping packs to scramble in different directions and quickly identify the best campsite. Then I set up the tent and our beds while Scott fired up the stove for drinks and dinner. We were well fortified on our hike with giant deli sandwiches we purchased on the way to the trailhead, so opted for the lightest dinner choice--curried couscous with raisins. Hot cocoa with Bullet Bourbon served us well as both apperatif and dessert. We watched the fog roll up the valley, settle into the cirque of Blue Lake, recede, then creep back in.

We slept until 8 a.m. when we heard a hiker calling to his partner that he was off the trail again. We had let Tucker out of the tent an hour or so before and worried that he was bothering people. Alas, he was just scouting the area for squirrels and eagerly came running for breakfast. Happy birthday to me! I opened most of my gifts at home, but Scott had brought one on the trip for me--a new Patagonia top that came in handy in the warm, sunny morning. We loitered around camp, marveling over the lake which we barely saw the night before. We even jumped in briefly (very briefly). By the time we had breakfast and packed up camp, it was 1 p.m. again, a now familiar start time for us.

Although the day would generally be an easy one, the start was a bear--a 1,000 climb out of the cirque on a steep, rocky trail, followed by a hairy descent on a narrow, loose, scree-covered and exposed slope. The view from the saddle was amazing, though! We all enjoyed a rest there, had a snack and snapped some pictures.

Once down the slope and back on the main trail, the hiking got easier and the scenery was just as rewarding as I had hoped. We hiked through the four-way junction of Dishpan Gap, then northward on the Pacific Crest Trail along Sauk Pass. You could see high peaks in every direction, for as far as you could see. It truly felt like we were far from anything. One of the most genuine wilderness experiences I've ever had.

We took advantage of an obscure stream for water and shortly after an irresistible meadow for lunch. Pondering the map, I surmised that we had traveled three miles in three hours! Time to get a move on.

The views and easy hiking continued for another mile and a half, then we dropped into and across a high valley, climbing back out of it toward our intended camp at Reflection Pond. Mostly in the trees until the junction right before the pond. Here we saw the first people we had seen all day--two climbers headed down from Glacier Peak and a Forest Service ranger completing her weekend patrol. It was nice to be out on Sunday night when all the weekend warriors are safely home.

Reflection Pond sits in a saddle between the Sauk and White River valleys with exceptional views in both directions. The sunset behind Sloan Peak was riveting! The stars were bright and clear. For the second night in a row, we watched the fog roll up the valley, climbing up the headwall into our saddle. It receded again, and again settled in for the night.

We had at least an hour to spare before dark this time, but still split up camp duties. Dinner was pasta with homemade pesto and sundried tomatoes--which I could not find and though I had left at home. So just pasta and pesto. And cocoa or hot tea with more bourbon as we toasted 40 years.

Reflection Pond sounds quite romantic and sits in a scenic locale, but in fact is a stagnant breeding ground for mosquitoes and offers little privacy from the trail. So instead of a total layover day, we agreed to move camp two miles to White Pass, the originating point of the day hike I had planned. Despite the best intentions of rising early, it was after 8 by the time we started hiking. Tucker nearly revolted--he whimpered a little when I lifted his pack from the ground, but relented and saddled up. But the two miles went by quickly, with well maintained, level trail. We saw several marmots--big hoary marmots, not the smaller yellow-bellied ones I know from Yellowstone.

Just before White Pass, we met a couple from Michigan who had just vacated camp there. They were doing our loop in reverse--apparently rangers discouraged people from going the way we went due to the lack of water on the climb. In the end, we preferred our direction since it gave us a short, easy day at the end when we had to drive home.

With camp newly established in the basin below White Pass, we set out on an afternoon dayhike to Red Pass. The round trip was less than five miles and reaped so much more than that in scenery! From Red Pass, you have a clear view of Glacier Peak and Disappointment Peak, the White Chuck glacier, and a spectacular glacier-carved valley that invited wandering in for days! Originally, I had wanted to scramble along the ridge crest to several rocky peaks along the way, but we were tired (I'm 40 for crying out loud!) and Tucker seemed a tad overheated. It wasn't a hot day--maybe mid-70s--but with little shelter from the sun, the small but steady climb had taken its toll. We enjoyed the pass for an hour or so, then headed back to camp slowly, letting Tucker rest in the few shady spots along the way. He even laid down in a shallow stream--a sure sign he was hot since he hates water! In the warm afternoon, we voted to save fuel by having our bourbon with Tang--not a bad drink that my neighbor later informed actually has a name--a TicTac.

The next day, we would move four miles, dropping 3,000 feet back into the river valley to camp at Mackinaw Shelter, a rustic lean-to in the dense, virgin forest floor. Reluctant to descend out of my alpine paradise, I wanted to spend the morning in camp, relishing the place before hiking out mid-afternoon. The morning was blessedly overcast after the previous day's baking sun and we had our first rain of the trip. Clouds battled blue sky for several hours until an afternoon thunderstorm reminded us it was time to go.

The trail down was necessarily steep, but gentler than the climb up. We dropped off the ridge and into gradually deepening forest as the thunder rolled and the lightning flashed. Close enough to scare Tucker, but far enough away to savor. Down in the woods, we stayed almost completely dry.

Mackinaw was our first campfire of the trip. The well placed fire ring an abundance of wood seemed to insist upon it. We were joined by Zach, a climber turned back from a solo attempt at Glacier Peak in the thunderstorm. We down miso soup and macaroni and cheese while he had freeze-dried mashed potatoes. And the last of the bourbon with hot tea.

Day five was an uneventful hike out (if you consider an encounter with rude horsemen and hiking through piles of horse shit uneventful)in the shade of the forest,crossing several small streams and descending gradually to the car. Tucker jumped with joy when we hefted our packs; he seemed completely recovered and eager to head out. When we arrived at the car, I imagined him spotting his cozy bed in the back and yelping "Praise L.L. Bean!" I think he thinks we went to live in the wilderness but ran out of food and had to come home.

A Whole Weekend of Riding Bikes!

Mountain Bike Oregon did not disappoint again this year! My friend Peter and I arrived late Thursday night and found a flat spot in the growing sea of tents to make camp.

I was a guide this year, so I had to get up early to check in and get my ride assignment for the day. My ride schedule couldn't have been better: "The Epic" on Friday, followed by mellow North Fork on Saturday, and long Middle Fork Sunday. Two hard rides with a recovery day sandwiched in between.

MBO is like summer camp for grownups. You show up with your tent and a bike and they do everything else for you. Your biggest responsibility each day is packing your lunch and getting to your shuttle on time. It's become so well known and loved that both July and August sessions sold out this year.

Notable improvements over last year were added ride options and a new and improved beer garden with all local microbrews. The morning routine is pretty much like this: crawl out of sleeping bag and stumble toward the coffee station; coffee in hand, go inside the pavillion to make lunch from the spread provided; cruise over to the vendor area to secure a demo bike for the day (see, you don't really even need to bring a bike!); refill coffee and stand in line for breakfast; fill up Camelback; get bike and self ready to ride; ride short distance to shuttle.

Afternoon routine: arrive back in camp, either from shuttle or riding in; collapse in chair next to tent to marvel at the surrounding beauty and the wonder of MBO; chat with neighbors; visit beer garden for post-ride beer; catch shuttle to cold showers at the high school; return to beer garden; eat dinner in beer garden; participate in evening festivities such as bike toss and Kiddie Bike Criterium; crawl into sleeping bag.

What more could a mountain biker ask for?

Planes, Trains, and Motorcycles

...oh, and ferries, too!

This weekend I joined Scott on a group Harley ride called "Too Broke for Sturgis." I needed to find a way to seriously limit my time sitting on the bike since that really aggravates my back. So I concocted a plan:

We left the house at 6:30 Friday morning and Scott dropped me off at a coffee shop downtown before heading up I-5 to meet the rest of the group. After an Americano and the paper, I strolled over to the train station where I boarded the Amtrak Cascades to Olympia. Less than two hours in more comfort than you find on an airplane. The train was pretty full, too--a good sign for the industry!

Scott was waiting when I arrived and I strapped on my chaps and leather jacket with body armor to protect against the cool overcast. Since my train was a few minutes late, we didn't make the ferry that the group had a reservation on from Port Townsend and had to catch the next one. But we enjoyed our drive up the east side of the Olympic peninsula, smelling the salt air and admiring the calm bay and the small towns along the Hood Canal. But by the time we got to Port Townsend, I was freezing! The hour wait inside the ferry terminal was a welcome respite and I got my hands thawed out before we boarded the ferry to Whidbey Island.

Motorcycles load first. We strolled the deck checking out the view during the 30-minute ride across Puget Sound. I was disappointed to miss seeing the Olympics due to the low overcast but at least it didn't rain! Once off the ferry, it was just a 45-minute ride northeast to Deception Pass State Park where the group had already set up camp, tents back to back in the flat areas away from the fire pit. It was only 4:00, but everyone was pushing for dinner since they hadn't stopped for lunch. Scott and I had heeded the warning to bring snacks and had quite a feast at the ferry terminal. It was way too soon for us to eat, but we sampled a couple of the local microbrews at Flyers Pub in Oak Harbor.

Sleep was just not to be had, between the people who stayed up late, the ones who got up early, and the ones who snored all night. Scott and I were almost last out of camp at the ripe hour of 7:50. I wisely got coffee at Starbucks before joining the group for breaky at Frank's Place, a veteran-themed greasy spoon that was not at all my style, but suit the rest just fine.

After just a few minutes on the bike, we stopped at Deception Pass, a narrow inlet that separates Whidbey Island from the mainland peninsula that houses Anacortes. A gorgeous spot! Made us want sea kayaks.

Heading northeast was like a walk down memory lane as we retraced some of the steps of Primal Quest '04: we passed Mt. Vernon and Bayview State Park, where we portaged kayaks before paddling back to Orcas Island; we drove up the Skagit River that we paddled 60 miles of in the tandem Neckys; I recognized the bike path near Sedro-Wooley where we did the "ride and tie" before setting off up the mountain for an all-night "bike-whack;" Concrete where we met our support crew after hiking around Baker Lake; Rockport where we launched for the long Skagit River paddle; and Marblemount where I think we had a transition.

Then we entered new territory for me--the North Cascades Scenic Highway. I fly over this region frequently and long to check it out up close. True to form, the PNW "summer" weather kept the clouds low and the views limited. Another disappoinment, although the drive was still beautiful. We stopped for the spectacular overlook of Diablo Lake, and again at Washington Pass. The east side (as usual) was sunny and warm and the scenery amazing!

We had lunch in Winthrop, a faux-western tourist town nestled in the Methow Valley. It reminded me of Montana. The group split up here, some in a rush to get to camp in Wenatchee, and others wanting to linger and soak up the local culture and scenery. Scott and I joined the laggers and walked around Winthrop with an ice cream cone before saddling up again. My back thanked me for the break, but was really glad when the day was over!

The entire Methow Valley is gorgeous, the craggy Cascades giving way to the granite folds of the Okanogan and then to the more arid hills of central Washington. We arrived at Confluence State Park on the Columbia and Wenatchee Rivers shortly before the group left for dinner at a Mexican restaurant. Still full from lunch, we opted for showers (cold) and a trip to the grocery for beer and snacks from the deli. We spent time in camp with a couple from Salem who took camping to mean camping and cooked all their own meals--something Scott and I just haven't figured out on the motorcycle yet. We're still learning how to pack and what can be left behind.

I'm sure we woke the whole campground when we peeled out at 5:15 this morning for the airport. Scott dropped me off to catch a flight home through Seattle so I could avoid another 7 hours in the saddle on a route I've seen before. Getting on the plane was adventurous, but once airborne, it was two quick flights home for a 3-hour nap! before I went to pick up Tucker from our dogsitters. Scott didn't get home til 3 p.m.--I'm glad I flew!

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: