Sundance Film Festival, Day 2 & 3

After Afghan Star, we made a quick trip to the grocery store for supplies, then made the 45-minute drive to the spectacular Sundance Resort for the afternoon screening of It Might Get Loud. The rustic resort is nestled in the Wasatch Range and surrounded by classic rocky mountain peaks.

Catherine and I needed tickets, so we joined the wait list line for a few minutes until Zach scored extra tickets outside. The film festival is amazingly accessible, even for those who don't plan ahead and purchase tickets. Even tickets for sold-out shows can be had through the wait list system or from people with extras.

It Might Get Loud traced the history of rock and roll through the lives of three generations of guitarists who get together to chat and jam. Jimmy Page, The Edge and Jack White share their stories, lives, and techniques with the audience and with each other. Fascinating and a must-see for anyone who enjoys rock music.

After an excellent dinner at the resort (the rotisserie pork loin is to die for!) Zach and Monica and I stayed for a heavier film, Boy Interrupted. Again, I was lacking a ticket but got one with no problem. The film follows the life of a child with Bipolar disorder who commits suicide at age 15. His filmmaker parents produced it in part as therapy for themselves and in part to educated the public about mental illness. They came out for a Q&A after the screening. I was very touched by their courage and strength to share such a personal story with the world.

This morning I'm off for a skate ski at the golf course before I catch a flight home. Being a part of Sundance has been quite an experience. I hope Zach invites us back next year!

Live from Sundance, Day 2

Photo courtesy of Zach Sachen. Robert Redford at the IndieGoGo party, 17 Jan 2009.

This morning we rolled out of bed at 7:30 and drove to the Library for the early screening of Afghan Star. Luckily they sell coffee and bagels onsite and allow eating in the theater.

Afghan Star is a world documentary about daily life in Afghanistan, using four contestants in the native version of American Idol as a story line. The film shows very little of the show itself, instead following the contestants as they talk about their lives in different regions of Afghanistan and what the show represents to the country as it struggles to regain freedom. Two of the contestants are women who face unique challenges as famous singers in the country.

After the film, the British producer, the host of the tv show "Afghan Star," and the tv station's producer held a Q&A session which provided great insight into the challenges of filming in Afghanistan and of producing a controversial show in Afghanistan.

Sundance

I caught an early morning flight to Salt Lake City and arrived at The Playground (aka Zach's house) around 10:30 a.m. He and Monica were at a movie, but arrived home by the time I settled in and changed clothes. Their suggestion of an afternoon ski sent me changing again. I thoroughly enjoyed my first day of alpine skiing in 10 years, schussing down a wide range of moderate runs at Deer Valley. Blue sky, sun shining through the aspens, and the crisp air of 8,000 feet--so refreshing!

The three of us met up at the base just after the last lift closed to make a quick transition to an invitation-only party hosted by IndieGoGo, a one-year-old organization that raises money on line for indie films; two of their funded films are featured at Sundance this year. Robert Redford made an unannounced appearance. The fruity vodka drinks went down like coolaid, their effect aided by my empty stomach and day of exertion. By the time we, now a party of 7, finally set off in search of food, we were all famished! The combined effects of 3 hours of sleep, a full day, no food and alcohol has taken it's toll--I called it an early night while Zach and Monica headed to a late-night invite-only party.

We're up early tomorrow to see Afghan Star at 8:30. It promises to be another full day, with at least a couple more films, as well as dinner and drinks at Sundance Resort. Zach and I likened the experience to an adventure race, where we go non-stop and minimize time in transitions.

A rare sight: sunrise in Oregon

Eyelids still heavy with sleep, thermos of hot Stumptown coffee in my backpack, I throw a leg over my trusty steed, clip in, and roll down the driveway. As I pick up some speed on the flat road, the frosty air slaps my face, reminding me of an icy wave of river water shocking me to life on the first drop of a whitewater day.

Although the Scott Cross Team is surefooted, I corner cautiously to avoid slipping on the invisible ice that thinly glazes the street. Encased in neon yellow with lights blinking front and rear in the still-dark morning, I turn onto a more heavily trafficked street. Cresting the bridge over Lombard, I catch a glimpse:

red, pink and orange glowing brilliantly around a snow-white Mt. Hood.

Although the sun must rise and set nearly every day, we rarely get to see it in the Pacific Northwest, especially in the winter. My mood lifted, body coming to life, I cruise down the hill and into the parking lot where I will spend the day in a windowless office.

Still snowing!

It seems the prospect of a white Christmas is no longer in doubt. It would take a lot of melting to change things at this point! Our neighborhood has been transformed into a ski-in-ski-out community. That should bring property values up a bit ;-).

Even the courts closed on Monday, so Scott stayed home and we skied to the Post Office to collect the mail. Yesterday I skied to the grocery store, but the snow was more packed and dirty from all the cars so the conditions were not as good. I awoke this morning to at least two inches of fresh powder and it's still snowing hard. We're supposed to get several inches this morning with a possibility of rain this afternoon (that seem unlikely, as it's only 26 degrees at 9 a.m.

With a little bit of packing, the neighborhood streets should be ideal for skating tomorrow! Skiing on Christmas and we don't even have to drive to the mountain--how cool is that??

Marshmallow World

Desperate for some exercise this afternoon, Scott and I suited up in snow pants, gaiters, and parkas for an expedition to the gym. The roads are too treacherous for running and the iced-over snow is too lumpy for a decent ski. No hope of getting the car out--the driveway is several inches under and the drifts against the garage door are plastered with a quarter-inch glaze of ice. Besides, most of the roads haven't seen a plow and the other people out there are too busy talking on their cell phones to figure out how to drive in the snow.

The first leg of the journey, a quarter-mile hike to the bus stop, went off without a hitch. Thanks to the online transit tracker, we even timed our arrival shortly ahead of the bus to avoid standing in the blowing sleet long enough to frost over. Leg two was a short bus ride to an intersection where we had to change buses. This is the tricky part. Trimet seems to get a kick out of scheduling buses so that you arrive to make a transfer just in time to watch a bus pull away from the stop. Three people were already waiting so we knew we hadn't just missed one. The new bus was on a snow route, though, skipping some of its stops, and we weren't quite sure from which direction it would come. We only waited about five minutes, all in all a successful journey.

The gym was pleasantly empty. After an abbreviated weight lifting session, I hopped on the stationary bike for some sweat-inducing cardio. Grinding "uphill" on the bike, I imagine a scorching day in June, subconsciously steering my mountain bike toward scattered patches of shade on a gruelling climb in the Cream Puff 100. Jolted from my visualization by a song change on my iPod, I glanced outside and my heart leaped at the sight of the blizzard that was going on. The sleet had been replaced with big, white flakes tumbling from the dark sky. I picked up the pace a bit on the bike, thrilled with the snowstorm that envelops us.

Winter Wonderland

Last week, my computer and I caught viruses. My nasty cold slowed me down for a few days, but one day my computer flat out refused to get up. Lucky for me, my friend Tim is a computer guy (that's generic for people who do stuff with computers but you don't know exactly what; it's like someone saying they're an engineer--what does that mean, exactly??) and since I give him guest passes every year, I don't feel too bad about consuming a few hours of his time.

So I took advantage of a small window of driving opportunity (the roads were pretty clear from the first snowstorm, but the next one hadn't started yet) to make the trip to Hood River. Tim and I have paddled together quite a bit and often work in a run or bike ride between paddling and beers. Amazingly enough, I haven't been out there in almost a year, though, so it was good to catch up.

While my computer processed it's rebirth, Tim and I suited up in our warmest winter running gear and headed out to Catherine Creek. Usually a dry desert landscape on the east end of the Columbia River Gorge, the Catherine Creek/Syncline area was blanketed in powdery, white snow. Tim led us along a trail that wound up the ridge. As the trail steepened, I slid back half a step for every step forward. My heart pounded against my chest and my lungs threatened to burst. I slowed to a walk. Alternating running and walking to keep my heart and lungs in check, I finally caught up to Tim where he waited near the summit. The higher we climbed, the deeper the powder. We followed a set of cat tracks with tail drag marks and saw black bear prints. We stopped to admire the view--a rare blue-sky day with the Gorge as backdrop--and the picture of frosted trees.

We finally crested the top of a bench overlooking the Gorge where we caught our breath, had a snowball fight and made snow angels. Tim wondered why my horns and pitchfork didn't show up in mine (his snow angel did sport horns!).

It was the kind of winter day that makes me long for winters in Wyoming. In Portland, winter is a dark, dreary season, soggy and full of moss. But in the Rocky Mountains, I used to look forward to winter, with it's crystal clear blue skies, contrasting white mountains, and lung-searing cold air.

An energizing winter run, pizza and a dark beer, a like-new computer and good friendship. I drove home with a satisfied smile on my face.