It's All In Your Head

I had a pretty dull weekend last week. The highlights were rock climbing, attending UW volleyball games and... playing online bridge with my mom. That's right, playing bridge with my mom was probably THE highlight of my weekend, and that fact made me rather depressed Sunday night. I stayed in Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights, and I felt like a pretty big loser.

Then Monday hit. I'm not really sure what happened Monday that pulled me out of my funk, but instead of viewing last weekend as a waste, I felt very fortunate. Sure, I'll probably have more fun this coming weekend--drinks on Friday with classmates, partying on Saturday, Seahawks game with friends on Sunday--but on Monday I realized that my time staying with the folks will come to an end soon. Staying in with one's parents all weekend probably is not many 26 year olds' idea of fun. But when I think about last weekend in the context of my life, and wondering how many more weekends like that I'll have, it makes the weekend feel much more special.

Driving Range

Today marks day one of my three week summer break. Like most people, I enjoy a good break. A prolonged break from school or just a bathroom break in the middle of a long day at work--both are welcome opportunities to spice life up a bit. Breaks give me time to investigate what it is I am actually doing and how that is different from what I want to be doing. With this break, I've already realized that I am taking school less seriously than I originally intended, and I would like to be more serious about school in the Fall. This break is the calm before the storm. Fall Quarter is going to be tough, Winter Quarter is going to be tougher, and Spring Quarter I student teach for two months.

In addition to reflection and attempts at temperance, breaks give me time to have fun, and I fully intend to have fun for the next three weeks. I've already got a few camping trips planned, I'm heading to Lake Tapps tomorrow, and I hope to ride the ninja up to Canada to possibly meet up with Schaubs for some much overdue B.C. poker. Today started the break out great with a bit of Warcraft, a successful trip to the library, and a splash of Team Fortress 2 sniping. But the highlight of the day was going to the driving range with my folks.

My mom taught me how to play golf when I was a wee one, maybe 9 years old. We would go to the little par 3 courses around Seattle and I would tee up the ol' 5 wood for Greenlake's behemoth 115yd 5th hole. I remember being giddy for my 12th birthday, because according to mom, 18-hole courses had a minimum age requirement of 12 to play. For my 12th birthday we played the Jackson 18-hole course in North Seattle. It wasn't until I was old enough to drive that she let me know there really was no such thing as a minimum age requirement--she just didn't want to walk 18 holes all the time! Oh to be young and gullible.

That story pretty much sums up my golfing history. Whenever the family gets together to play, we play for fun and try to prank each other every chance we get. Favorite pranks include shifting the golf carts into reverse for the high-pitched squeal in the middle of someone's back swing, and replacing dad's golf ball with an exploding golf ball that has a thin cover with just flour inside, or a snake ball on the green that has a weight inside it and goes anywhere but straight.

Our golfing went from once a week in the summer to once a year when I hit college. The only place we've played for the past ten years has been Bear Creek golf course over in Winthrop, WA. It is a spacious 9-hole course conveniently located near Sun Mountain Lodge, which is where the parents would go to get away for a few days each summer. The course is cheap compared to normal greens fees, cheap enough for us to get golf carts for the round--which is, of course, the most important part!

We're heading to Sun Mountain on Wednesday, so last night I suggested we hit the driving range to warm up for our high-stakes golf match at Bear Creek later in the week. Mom's been doing physical therapy for her shoulder for the past few months, and dad has a foot problem that has forced him to cancel our summer hike this year--so I was a bit doubtful about our chances at getting a round in at Bear Creek this year. Those doubts were put to rest today at the range--we had an absolute blast!

It was a blustery day today, with 15-20mph winds whipping across the range. Fortunately for us, the wind did not affect our shots, as we had trouble getting the balls up in the air. I secretly brought along my camera to take pictures and video of dad golfing, because he has a hilarious swing that just had to be captured on film:



I got my sports skills from my mom, as you can clearly see with her smooth swing. Dad improved remarkably as the video progressed--he went from missing the ball, to hooking the ball, to not being able to get the ball out of the ball rack, to slicing the ball and then he fished with a straight and true right down the fairway rocket.

THE GOOD: I have to give credit where credit is due. We were all swinging pretty well today. Mom corrected her "trying to swing too hard" complex about halfway through the bucket and finished with some nice strokes. Dad was hitting the ball in the air more than 50% of the time, which is unheard of for him. I was crushing the ball and actually hitting my driver in the air, straight, which hasn't happened since I was 13. I also sunk a 40ft putt uphill and into the wind to win our putting challenge--and mom gets credit for calling it from the moment it left my putter.

THE BAD: Well, dad didn't hit all the balls he aimed at, but that is to be expected. He is 6'5", after all. Unfortunately, I too missed a few with powerful whiffs that undoubtedly altered the course of our universe and may or may not have created tsunamis in Japan tomorrow morning.

THE UGLY: The ugly is my dad's category, he is the king of ugly when it comes to golf. He had some absolute prizes today, but the single swing that had me laughing the longest was when he took a big swing at the ball and just BARELY nicked the ball. So softly in fact, that it wound up in the ball holder just to the right of the driving range mat. I can honestly say I have never seen that before. I have trickled the ball off the front of the mat, I have ricocheted the ball off of the screen behind the ball holder--hell, I have even hit the roof of the covered driving range before, but I have never hit the ball so gently, on such a strong swing, to get the ball to rest peacefully back in the ball holder with the rest of its round, white friends. Kudos to dad for doing the impossible. Kudos.

Spring in Seattle

Home--pretty much sums it up.

I'm not sure why I hadn't really felt it since moving back to Seattle last August. The last eight months I've mostly spent my time re-acclimating myself to my home town. Everything is different through older eyes. Everything seems smaller than it once was, which is depressing in a way.

Riding the 1200 miles up from Tahoe on my motorcycle, behind Dad in the Explorer, I had lots of time to think about my future. I knew living with my parents was going to be bittersweet. I love my parents, and love living with them, but I'm also ashamed to say I'm 25 years old and living with my parents. Somewhere in the middle of Oregon, I remember tackling the pros and cons of living with my parents, and I had this great vision of walking down to a local pub with my parents for dinner. We would buy a pitcher or two of beer, play some pool, and have a fun and relaxing evening together.

Last night, we did just that. The three of us played a game of shuffleboard (shuffle-puck?) and on the first throw of the evening, with no warm-up, my Mom rolled the puck down the sandy counter and it stopped perfectly along the back edge of the counter for a 4-pointer. We didn't roll another 4 all night (although I think I did manage to knock her 4 off the board). Dad and I got a game of pool in after dinner, and he was confident that I would sink the 8-ball out of turn. This is usually a good bet to make, but somehow I managed to sink it AFTER hitting all of the solids in--there's a first time for everything!

Today was another one of those perfect Spring days in Seattle, where everyone and their mothers go outside to catch some rays. Greenlake was popping again this Saturday, and I got in a good three hours of ultimate. John from my teaching program was out at the field with his pregnant wife and her sister who is a beast at ultimate. The four of us headed to Baskin Robbins after ultimate, and I got a triple-scoop Chocolate Mouse Royale. Dear God it was good. I hadn't had Baskin Robbins for years, and I was ecstatic to find my favorite flavor still intact. I actually feel like I am throwing my money away if I buy any other flavor of ice cream at Baskin Robbins, because Chocolate Mouse Royale is THAT good. Dark, rich chocolate, filled with little shavings of hard dark chocolate--come on! How am I not gonna eat that?

Speaking of pregnant wives, when I got back to my cell phone after ultimate, I received a picture message of Marc's baby, Claire. I love that name, and he is the first of my friends to have a kid, so he got to snatch the name before any of us... bitch. Congrats, Marc and Sarah :)

I got a few games of Magic in with Tyler, then the two of us headed to Marshall to hoop it up. Tyler hasn't shot a basketball in six months, but he still won the first game of 21. He retired on top while I hopped into a game of 2v2. My teammate was the other guy playing 21 with us, and seemed to be pretty decent... until we started playing 2v2, doh. We started off ice cold and he threw up a number of air balls. I think the other team scored 5 points before we sunk our first bucket. We were down 5-10 and 6-11, then I caught fire. I remember thinking "alright, time to get hot." 8-11. 10-11. 12-11. It feels so good to play bball when your shot is falling, and it was raining 3's at Marshall this afternoon. We finished them off when I faked a 3 and drove baseline to lefty in a rare layup (I don't make layups... ever).

Life is good.

Seattle is still different in my mind than the daily view I take in, but days like this connect the past to the present. I remember the sunny spring days down in Tacoma (close enough), where ultimate frisbee out on Todd Field played out from about 3pm to 8pm. The players would come and go, and the girls bathing in the sun would do the same. In Seattle, I remember plenty of sunny afternoons in Springs long ago, playing basketball and baseball games until dark.

Spring might just be taking over as my favorite season. I've always said Summer, but with Spring you've got these rare, amazing days that are my favorite. You've also got the anticipation of Summer. With Summer, you've usually always got nice days, but you look forward to a wet Fall, Winter and Spring.

Today is almost over, and I'd rate it 5/5 on spirit, 5/5 on body, and 2/5 on mind. Time to go read!

Bald Eagle Hunting

My parents went up to the cabin on Wednesday. They only spent a few minutes at the cabin proper, to make sure the place is still standing. For the rest of the day, they went bald eagle hunting. Endangered, smangered.

Although once a member of the NRA, my Dad has traded in his guns for cameras, and got a pretty snazzy Canon Rebel Digital SLR for Christmas, and then for his birthday in early January he got one of those really nice big zoom lenses to mount onto his new camera.

My Dad, the Comedian

So, I wake up this morning feeling just as crappy as yesterday. Sore throat from hacking up all sorts of goodies, runny nose--you know the drill. Anyways, I head upstairs and find my Dad pretending to clean up our old computer room. He's really just looking through old photos, so I say:

"You aren't as productive as Mom when it comes to cleaning."

He responds, "Oh! Go blow it out your ear! Not as productive as Mom... Oh!"

OK, maybe not the nicest thing to say to your Dad first thing in the morning, but we had a good laugh. A few minutes later, I'm making some Tazo green tea to try and give this cold the KO, when my Mom comes down from upstairs and yells:

"ALLAN!"

He strolls into the kitchen from the computer room with a fake smile on his face, "Yes, my dear?"

"What is this sock doing in my laundry basket?" She says as she holds the sock in question up for his examination. It is a white ankle-sock, very similar to the ones I wear...

"Do I wear socks like this???" she says.

"Well, I..."

"Allan! Have I ever worn socks like this?" Oh, she's starting to have fun now.

"I think..."

"Allan!"

"But..."

"ALLAN!"

"Yeees?"

"I have NEVER worn socks like this, do you see how long this sock is?" She says as she holds it from toe-to-heel in front of his face.

He looks at me.

"Oh! It must be Chris's fault!"

He and I laugh.

"Allan!" Mom says again.

"Well, wait one second, let me see that sock," He says.

She hands him the sock, and he studies it for a second. Dad then lays the sock down next to my Mom's foot, and the length is EXACTLY the same length as her foot.

"OH!!! Innocent!!!" He shouts, as Mom finally can't hold her straight face and the three of us are all laughing uncontrollably.

"If it fits, you must acquit!"

Spider Meadow

Spent yesterday and today hiking at Spider Meadow with Dad. It was cloudy yesterday, and rained on us a bit overnight, but today was gorgeous blue sky. I'm pooped!

I'm Home!

It feels great to be back in Seattle, and although there were some amazing spots on my 1,000 mile ride home, the last 100 miles from Enumclaw to Seattle were the best! The Cascade Mountains are just striking, especially compared to all of the other mountains we saw along the way. The green of the forest, the steepness of the mountains, and the blue of Lake Washington--just screamed: HOME!

Yesterday morning, Dad and I checked out the Steens Mountains, about an hour outside of Frenchglen. The mountains are pretty cool, and the result of two glaciers banging into each other thousands of years ago. It is the biggest half-pipe I have ever seen.





Once we got back to Frenchglen, we started the trek to Pendleton, which was about 260 miles. Just south of the small town of John Day was easily the nicest road I've ever ridden on. Fifteen miles of very recently repaved road through a national forest, with shoulders wide enough for bikes to safely ride. There wasn't a bump in the entire 15 miles--perfect for riding my motorcycle around 40mph turns.

North of John Day I decided to take the lead, because the windy roads were just too fun to go Explorer-speed. I was only in the lead for about 10 miles, but in that ten miles I whacked my first bird. One of the first things you learn while riding a motorcycle is S.E.E. Scan, Evaluate, Execute. Well, here I was, riding happily along a road, with a river on my right. I come around a turn and see about five duck-looking creatures walking across on my side of the two-lane highway.

Scan: OK, five bird-looking creatures. I'm pretty sure they can fly, and I'm not sure why they are walking across the road.

Evaluate: Well, I'll probably just cross over into the oncoming lane and avoid them, or slow down and let them disperse and drive through whatever opening they leave me.

Execute: Well shit, a semi just rounded the corner, so I'm not going into the other lane. Slowing down... why aren't the birds moving? Fly away! OK, a few of them flew to safety, but there is one right in front of me, ah crap! Brake! But not too fast to flip me...

The bird finally lifts off when I'm about ten feet from it, going 30mph. It whacks my tiny shield on the front of my bike and I dodge the rest of the bird as it flies over me. The semi is directly to my left, and I hope I didn't bump the bird into the oncoming semi--because it would be game-over for that bird. I don't know if I actually killed it or not, but Dad said he saw some blood on the windshield when we stopped for lunch shortly thereafter. The liquid didn't look red to me, it could have just been bird-slobber... ...right...

Dad and I stayed at a Best Western in Pendleton last night, and it was a very nice hotel. We ate at the Shari's across the street, and I had a gut-busting Double-Stack Bacon Cheeseburger, and added two Widmer Hefeweizen's to wash it down. The hotel had high-speed internet, and I checked email, checked a few blogs and got my WoW fix in. We both got to bed pretty early again, and woke up at 6am this morning.

Today's riding was the most difficult, because it was chilly, and there was a pretty stiff side-wind the entire trek. I had to pull over about 50 miles into the trip and put back on the liner in my jacket, as well as a long-sleeve t-shirt. Once we got to about Issaquah, I ditched my Dad and headed home :)

So much to do now that I'm in Seattle. I have a lot of work to do on the teaching-front, and I'm also looking into assistant tennis coaching at my old high school, and also coaching a youth basketball team at my old community center. I've always wanted to, and now is the perfect time :) I've got a month before classes start, and I will be spending two or three of those weeks observing classes from high school to elementary school.

Went out to go see Bourne Ultimatum today and I had a few gripes with the otherwise as-advertised-action-packed movie. First is the bouncy camera. They purposefully made the camera have a head-bob effect, which just got annoying after a while. Second, I sure hope the female lead (from that dancing movie) didn't get paid by the line, because she sure didn't talk much. I think her signature move was the: stare at Matt Damon, then nod and walk away. Lastly, there sure were some no-brainer spots in the movie: "this is the worst possible spot, why would he want us here?" "He's got a reason." At this point I turned to Tyler and smacked my forehead.

Just finished cleaning the spa out with Dad, and it has been raining on and off since I got home. It is good to be back! I love the rain!

Hiking With Dad (LONG)

(written two days ago where internet hasn't been invented yet)

Well, I’m either old… or I’m living the life. I’m currently freshly showered, sipping a Corona and sitting in a rocking chair on the second floor of the public Frenchglen Hotel in Frenchglen, OR. There is a window open behind me, and another window on the other side of the room blowing a nice breeze over my shoulders. I’ve got my laptop with no internet in front of me, and I’m trying to figure out where to begin.

I just finished a very good ‘family style’ dinner out on the deck. Along with Dad, there was a retired couple sitting across from us, and an 80 year old doctor who rode a motorcycle down from Portland. Frenchglen is in Southeast Oregon, so it is quite the drive from Portland. His motorcycle is parked out front, and it has a futuristic-looking side-car. Instead of a wife, he keeps a 10-gallon fuel tank in there for the long rides.

During our meal of rice, spinach and artichoke dip, chicken, rolls and salad, we all shared stories. The older couple (in their 60’s) had some really neat stories, including taking a train from Eugene, OR to Miami, FL. They went down the coast on the Starlight Express (I believe?) then took a train from Los Angeles to Miami. They stayed a few days in San Antonio, New Orleans, Miami—-then flew back to Eugene. Not bad! We had a good dinner, filled with laughs, and I wasn’t meant to feel too out of place, even though the rest of the table had a good 40 years on me.

I scooted out early from dinner and played with Ichi a bit. He’s had quite the day. I went and got Dad from the hotel this morning a few minutes earlier than scheduled, re-introduced him to Ichi, then the next thing Ichi knew, he was trapped in the Explorer with his grandpa! It was a pretty hot drive from Tahoe to Frenchglen, and Dad finally admitted at dinner that the thermometer in the Exploder hit 101 degrees somewhere in rural Nevada. Luckily for Ichi, he had air conditioning this trip! After the normal Ichi freak-out, he settled down, and at almost every stop along the way, he was curled up in a ball on Dad’s lap. Ichi is going to spend the night out in the Exploder tonight, but tomorrow night we have a hotel in Pendleton, OR that allows cats—-so he’ll get to come inside then.

I don’t feel too bad for Ichi though, because I was out in the 100 degree weather all day on my ninja. The drive today was about 400 miles, and it consisted of pretty much staring at the back of the Explorer for 8 hours. It wasn’t that bad though. Dad planned the route through Nevada and Eastern Oregon, and I agreed because I’ve really only drove I-5 from California to Seattle. Dad said he had some amazing country to show me, so I obliged to let him plan the trip.

His favorite part of today’s trip was about 30 miles north of Winnemucca, NV. We turned off of I-95 and took Hwy 140 through Denio to Frenchglen. At the turn off onto Hwy 140, there is a straight-stretch of road that must of lasted 30 miles, not a single turn. It felt like you could see forever, and there was not a single car in sight. You can go the entire drive from Sacramento to Seattle and never lose sight of another vehicle. Dad and I drove for a good 20-mile stretch without seeing another soul. The scenery was amazing, and even though there were ‘open ranges’ along the highway, it felt pretty safe to take my gaze off of the Exploder’s license plate and glance around. A couple things struck me on that long, straight-stretch. First, whoever had to build all those telephone poles along the highway must have had one helluva-long summer. There were telephone poles every hundred feet along the highway, and we sometimes crossed a different stretch of telephone poles heading perpendicular to the road. They stretched on as far as I could see… hundreds, maybe even thousands of telephone poles, out in the middle of nowhere. Power has to get from the Hoover Dam somehow, I guess—but damn if those telephone poles aren’t going to be obsolete in twenty years.

Since there weren’t any other cars or police cars within our miles of sight, I decided to pass Dad and punch the ninja up to 100 for a little giggle. I couldn’t think of a better, safer place to do it (although I was a bit worried about the ‘Open Range’). I crouched down and gave the bike lots of throttle, and it responded with a zoom. I hit 100 and decided that was enough for me. I checked my rear-view mirror and was surprised to see the Explorer so far behind. I popped in the clutch and let the bike coast for a good mile until Dad caught up. I moved back over to the left lane and let him pass me on the right side, as if we were rewinding the tape. Good times.

Other than the fun stretch between Winnemucca and Denio, the ride was a good endurance test. It was almost as long as the ride to Vegas in June, but it was a much easier ride, because I was following Dad. Going it alone is pretty tough, I wanted to stop more often on my ride down to Vegas than I did with Dad today. Some of that might have to do with the hike we just got through, and my patience and stamina are near an all-time high.

Speaking of hiking, the hike was amazing. Truly a once-in-a-lifetime hike. We had near-perfect weather. 70-75 degrees, blue skies, no lightning storms and no fire/smoke until the last day hiking out. We got incredibly lucky with the weather. You can pretty much rely on sunny weather for August in California, but camping at 10,000ft in rock bed, lightning storms are not your friend—and they are mighty frequent on sunny, August days. Also, if luck is not on your side, the months of planning a hike can quickly be for naught if a wildfire strikes.

On our last day, we saw a bit of smoke on the 5.6 mile hike out, but it didn’t seem too bad. It wasn’t until we got to the car and started driving back to Mammoth to pick up the Exploder, that we noticed how bad the smoke was. You could hardly see the mountains when we got back to Mammoth, and we knew the mountains were there, because we had seen them four days earlier on our entry into the Ansel Adams Wilderness.

The wilderness is aptly named, and it definitely rivals the Cascades. Some of the view we got were just incredible. We camped at Thousand Island Lake our second night, which sits at 9800ft. Mount Banner shades the lake in the afternoon, and it is 13,000ft high, standing just to the Southwest of the lake. Our hike up to Thousand Island Lake was a bit of a grind at 8.5 miles and probably around 2k elevation from Agnew Meadows—and I promptly stripped down to my shorts and hopped into Thousand Island Lake when we arrived. I could see the glacier which fed the lake, but that didn’t stop me! It actually wasn’t that bad, until Dad saw me getting out after diving in and said, “Mind doing that again for the camera?” I didn’t, but that second dive seemed much more brisk than the first!

From Thousand Island Lake, we climbed Island Pass, descended into a really nice valley with a picture-perfect stream. I got a few shots of Dick pumping water at the stream where we ate lunch. There were foot-long fish swimming around in the stream, lush grass, and the constant trickle of the stream to make you feel at home in the wilderness. That great feeling caught us a bit off-guard, because from the top of Island Pass, all we saw was a valley with trees, and we were all staring across the valley at Donoghue Pass, which we were going to climb the next day. If we had a bridge across the valley, we could have saved ourselves a few thousand feet of elevation, so every step down into the valley, we knew would be a step up the other side. The perfection in the valley got our minds off the hike back up though, and we made it to within 1000ft of Donoghue Pass and camped at over 10,000ft our third night on the trail. That third day was pretty rough, because it was spent at or above about 9800ft, and we did quite a bit of climbing.

Back to my all-time high in patience, climbing isn’t exactly my Dad’s forte. He makes his money with his long strides in the flat meadow. When the path gets steep, he shuts down into 1st gear and his long stride collapses into a literal toe-to-heel grunt up the hill. The steepest part of the entire 27-mile trail was about five hours into our first day. We had a 0.6 mile stretch that rose 600ft. That’s 1000ft/mile. We averaged 2h/mile. Two hours per mile. Not two miles per hour. It took us over an hour to hike 0.6 miles. I love my Dad, but that pace was a grind on my patience! It seemed to me, that if he just took bigger strides, he’d go at least two times faster—but I didn’t say anything. He knows his body well enough to know what pace he is comfortable with, and the fact that he is even doing a 27-mile hike at age 65 is a pretty impressive feat in and of itself. I feel very lucky to even have the opportunity to hike with my Dad when he is 65. I really doubt I’ll be doing any 27-mile hikes when I’m his age.

I tried my hardest to stay positive about his pace, and for the most part I think Sarr, Dick and I did a good job. It was difficult at times, because we all (including Dad) were very cognizant of the fact that Dad was the slowest out of the group, and we kept a pretty good attitude about it. It had me thinking a lot during the hike though… what is the best way to handle a situation like this, where there is one weak link. I plan on both teaching and coaching within the next few years, and I’m sure I’ll face this issue again in the future. You don’t want to hold everyone else back, but you also want to try your hardest to boost them up. A few times during our hike, Dick and Sarr would go ahead of us and find a spot for lunch, or a spot to camp once we got close to the campsite. That seemed to please them, but over dinner tonight in Frenchglen, Dad commented that sometimes on our hike Dick and Sarr would race ahead to a stream for a stop, but by the time Dad and I got there to rest, they’d be ready to go again, and Dad would get no rest! I guess another unique thing about our situation is that Dad is 65, and isn’t afraid to speak his mind, or request a rest stop. It probably meant more rests, but it also staved off any serious problems from occurring, because Dad knows his body and isn’t afraid to make us wait if he needs a rest. I can see the opposite of that having a very bad outcome in a classroom sense. If the kid isn’t willing to raise his or her hand and admit to not understanding, or get their parents to do their homework, or any other number of things, the problem is just going to get worse and worse.

OK, I’m getting a little off-track, but I would like to hear any advice about what to do when there is a weak link in a group. I think we did a good job, but I felt some of our tactics were either a little too childish, or just not right for the situation—but I was at a loss for how to handle the situation any better. We didn’t really have any way of making him go faster, so the hike was pretty much testing his speed and our patience. Dad also admitted after the hike that he felt rushed for most of the hike, but I don’t really think we could have accomplished the hike in the number of days we had allotted going any slower—so it was more a planning thing than anything else. He also likes hikes where you backpack in, then spend a few days without your pack going on day hikes and coming back to base camp every night—and this hike was definitely not that! All told, I think we all still had an unforgettable time, and it was the perfect way to cap off my six months in Tahoe. To make the matter a little less stressful, Dad and I had an amazing pace on the last morning, when we hiked out to the car. The trail was 5.6 miles of meadow, and Dick and Sarr gave us a little head start like they had become accustomed to—but they didn’t catch up! Dad was zooming in the flat, shaded meadow, and we had a great talk along the way. We got to a little junction of trails about 0.6 miles from the parking lot, and I left a false note for Dick and Sarr, saying we arrived there at 8:30am (when I left the note it was closer to 9am), and for them to move their butts! Dad and I waited around the corner for them, so we could all hike out to the car at once, and we had a good laugh… Dick said he’s going to frame the note.

After the four-nights of hiking food, which was actually amazingly good, we hit Burgers Restaurant, in Mammoth, CA. We all had ½ lb burgers, and three of us had chocolate shakes to go with our burgers. The food and shake were the objects of my desire for the last few days—but in hindsight, I have to say eating all that food wasn’t the smartest idea, because I think all of us were a bit sick after gorging ourselves. The freeze-dried meals we had on our hike were the best I’ve ever had. Our normal dinner consisted of chicken noodle or cream of chicken soup to start, an entrée of Beef Stew, Chicken Teriyaki, Beef Stroganoff and Lasagna, a vegetable dish of peas, green beans, corn and vegetable surprise (not our favorite), then we’d finish up with hot chocolate or apple cider. The portions were great too, not too big, not too small, just enough to fill you up. This was the ninth hike Sarr and Dick have done with Dad, and they have got dinner down pat (except for vegetable surprise!).

I drove Dad and I back to Tahoe after the burgers. I was driving because I lost a prop-bet during the hike. From our camp at 10,000ft, I guessed there would only be 201 of these awful stone-steps on our hike up to Donoghue Pass. Dad guessed 313 and there turned out to be 423… argh! I counted them all, and after we passed Dad’s 313 guess and still had quite a ways to go, we bet again—he picked 560 and I picked 500. I don’t think I actually won anything on that bet, nor did I win anything on our time bet from the same spot. I guessed 10:30am to the top and he guessed 10:45am—we got there at 10:15am. I need to work on my betting strategy.

Other than the meals and the prop-betting, another thing that made this hike so memorable was all the wildlife we saw along the way. In order from largest to smallest, we saw: horses, mules, a buck with a 9-point rack, a doe, a coyote, a golden hawk, a fawn, a red fox, a marmot, a different hawk, bunnies, dozens of different birds, plenty of squirrels and chipmonks, a caterpillar, big biting ants, horse flies and of course—mosquitoes. One of my best pictures yet is of a lady passing us on her horse, leading what looks like a few pack mules up the trail. The light through the trees hits the dust coming up, and it just looks pretty neat to me. I have a minute-long video of the buck, who was eating some grass across the river from us while we were on a siesta. The golden hawk was really neat, and was perched atop a dead tree at our 10,000ft camp, the doe and her fawn were seen at the very end of the hike near the ranger station. Dad got a picture of the fox. We saw a few different marmots, but the one I remember the most was the one we came across on our descent down the Yosemite-side of Donoghue Pass—it had just been bathing in the stream and its fur was all spiked up as it waddled to safety. The second hawk we saw was one of the coolest moments I’ve seen out in nature. We had just crossed a bridge and were entering a forest when we heard commotion up ahead. The hawk had dive-bombed a squirrel, and the squirrel dodged away at the last second and started climbing a tree. The hawk flew up after it, but the squirrel kept running around the diameter of the tree—and it could run fast enough to always be on the opposite side of the tree. The hawk was having a devil of a time trying to fly around the tree and get to the squirrel, and eventually gave up and perched itself on a branch of another tree, trying to spot the squirrel’s escape. The hawk was pissed that he missed that squirrel! I saw some bunnies in the grass just before Thousand Island Lake, but wasn’t able to get any pictures. Dad and I spent time bird-watching, but I wasn’t able to get any good shots. Shooting birds isn’t easy, especially when the terrain reminds you of Oregon Trail and you drift off, imagining a buffalo sliding into your field of vision, then quickly running back off-screen. It wouldn’t have mattered though, because I only could have dragged 200lbs back to the wagon.

Picture Dump Time:





























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Thanks Dad!

In response to my Mt. Tallac post, I received this email from my Dad:

"No more preparation hikes for you.....the old folks will be left in the dust (at least I will). from now on chocolate ice cream and carrot cake for you. remember how those girls made you feel as they left you in the dust...."

Best.Dad.Ever!

Buck Creek Pass Picture Show



Got in a nice hike this weekend (and Monday) with Stacey and my dad. 10 miles and 3000 elevation up to Buck Creek Pass about 15 miles West of Leavenworth, WA.



It was amazing.

The hike was a bit of a grunt, but the trail started at an old mining town called "Trinity." There are tons of old abandoned mining towns in the Cascades, and this one is fairly well-preserved. The trail then wrapped around mountains and crossed dozens of little creeks, winding its way through the valleys and eventually up a mountainside to the Pass.

It is a pretty remote hike, into the heart of the Glacier Peak forest. It is also currently a detour on the Pacific Crest Trail, which runs from Canada to Mexico, due to flooding which wiped out another section of the trail.

We hiked all the way up to Buck Creek Pass on the first day, leaving Seattle at 7:00am and arriving in camp as the sun was setting around 8:00pm.

Stacey had a few up close and personal experiences with deer, chipmunks, bugs and butterflies. My dad has been hiking in the Cascades for nearly 40 years and that was the closest he's ever been to deer.



No zoom on that shot either!



The bug is about as long as my dad's finger up to his second knuckle. It had two long antenna-feelers and flew straight into Stacey's face earlier. Well, its brother did... cause his brother got SQUASHED.



This was a meadow filled with butterflies. Stacey's about to touch a little black butterfly in the above shot.



We also had a few close encounters with Marmots. These two were on lookout laying on the rock. They are basically mountain beavers. I wanted one for a pillow.

Sadly, we don't have great shots of the close encounters we had with chipmunks!

The second day we hiked up to High Pass Trail (I believe?) and didn't have to carry our packs, which was niice.



We climbed back down and played cards and rested in our tents for a quick nap in the afternoon. We then climbed towards Flower Bowl and watched the sun set on Glacier Peak.



We had a great kitchen set up, and had some tasty freeze-dried meals both nights.

Monday we woke up before the sun and made our way out to the sunrise on Glacier Peak--so blue. We hiked the 10 miles out about two hours faster than our hike up and got to the trailhead around 1:30pm. We had plenty of time to get back to Seattle, then Portland for the work day today. Except for one thing.

The car wouldn't start.

Dead battery. Quite possibly the worst feeling in the world. On par with toilet water going up to the brim about to over-flow after plugging up the toilet.

Being a weekday, there weren't any hikers at the trailhead, and the first pair we saw didn't have jumper cables (nor did we). Three hours of waiting later, because we were out of cell phone range, two older hikers made their way out from the trail, who we had passed early in the day.

They didn't have jumper cables either.

I decided to divide and conquer, sending my father out with the couple to the ranger station with a cell phone to get some help. My dad is about the least techincally-savvy person on earth, and needed a lesson in cell phone usage. Needless to say, Stacey and I were a bit worried. We distracted ourselves with cards and playing with more chipmunks. We would put peanuts on the side mirrors of the car and the chipmunks would climb up through the engine (the hood was up), onto the front window and then get the peanut.

An hour and a half later, the one private resident at Trinity arrived in a truck with his two husky dogs and one chiwawa. We flagged him down and he thankfully gave us a jump.

We found my dad at the rest stop (I guess there was no ranger station?) with a tow truck. We honked and he was RELIEVED to see us. His story was pretty amazing too, but we all made it back safely to Seattle by 10:00pm and Stacey and I made it to Portland by 2:00am.

Work wasn't too much fun today, even though I didn't arrive until 10:45am!

More summer fun to come this next weekend out at the coast with my three best friends, more pictures for sure!