Yule Report

While you were spending Christmas in your comfy pants, eating peanut brittle and turkey legs while watching your favorite holiday movie with your family in your warm home, I was being tricked into doing a 12-mile hike. And it was fantastic!

I didn't go home this year, which marked my second ever Christmas away from my family in Minnesota. I've got a pretty big trip coming up in February (so epic that it involves anti-malaria precautions!) and have no vacation time to spare, as well as zero patience or money for peak holiday travel, aaaand my parents were just here two weeks ago, so quit judging me already, OK? Instead Beard and I had brunch with our friends Matt and Jenny, and then we all headed to Forest Park to take a stroll with their vizsla and visiting border collie mix.

As you can see from the photo, Portland suffered an identity crisis, and it was a gorgeous day. Sunglasses were worn. One thing led to another, and the next thing we knew we'd hiked up to Pittock Mansion, where the photo was snapped, then on to the rose gardens at Washington Park before looping back to the car, three adventure-hike hours later.

Then I promptly went home, put on my pajamas, and stuffed my face with pizza and Jubelale and watched Home Alone with some buddies. You really can have it both ways.

Hope you all had a lovely holiday, wherever or however you chose to celebrate it.

Thank you, Dog Mountain, and may I have another

On Sunday my bearded companion and I headed back to the Columbia River Gorge, only this time the weather had pulled an about-face. Instead of last week's 40's and sleet, it was sunny and 70. Sometimes, you win some.

This conquest: Dog Mountain. To be honest, we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. I have a Pacific Northwest hiking book with pages falling out that I study and scribble in every now and again, and this trek has been on the list for awhile. What I failed to comprehend, is what an elevation gain of 2800 feet over 3.5 miles really means.

It was brutal. There was a moderate amount of whining, abundant feelings of inadequacy, and oaths to whip our sorry aces into shape. Finally, we got to the top after taking more mini-breaks than I care to count, and it was amazing. Truly stunning. We were at the top of the gorge, and could see Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Hood (which is impressive when you realize that you've climbed high enough to see it above the walls of the gorge) and at one point, and I'm not joking, we saw an airplane flying down below us. This makes one feel pretty badass.

Unfortunately, I had tricked myself into thinking that once we reached the top, all of the hard work was over. The trip down would be my sweet reward! This was not accurate. I found out soon enough that the trail was so steep that the amount of agility and quadriceps strength needed to prevent one from somersaulting all the way down (which would have been ideal, actually) was far more difficult than trudging up.

I'm more sore today than I remember being in a long time. I am walking like someone took a crowbar to my kneecaps, and I could use some of those stability handrails for help getting off the toilet. Regardless of the pain now and the strings of expletives then, it was a fantastic way to spend what so far has been the nicest day of the year out in these parts. I'm glad I didn't do the math ahead of time.

Gorge-ing

About this time every year I defiantly start acting like winter is over, even if all signs point to "nope, not really." This weekend my brother and sister-in-law were visiting from Minnesota, so I had an excuse to make my fantasies a reality. I simply would not allow them to leave without seeing what Oregon has to offer.

So we headed east to the Columbia River Gorge to do a bit of hiking, amid the rain/sleet mix that I tried my best to not acknowledge. (Which P.S., was not in the forecast. Thanks for nothing, Accuweather.) I took them to Multnomah Falls, the second tallest waterfall in North America, no biggie, and then we hiked the Horsetail Falls trail. It's my favorite of the many waterfall hikes in that area, offering a nice sampler of waterfall action - one you can walk behind, the "weeping wall" and a nice view of the Oneonta Gorge from a little footbridge that feels like it's from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Even though my feet were cold and wet and most of my photos include some precipitation blemishes (beauty marks?), I really enjoyed seeing some of my favorite scenery in what is probably a realistic representation of the natural climate. The moss was growing before my very eyes! And at the very least, Brother and Wifey can at least say that they experienced the REAL Oregon. Not what those pansies see when they show up in July. The only thing that would have made it better would have been a Banana Slug sighting. Next time.

Tundra Sports

I spent the weekend in Bend, a pleasant little mountain hamlet in the middle of Oregon. I know I said I'd be strapping some strategically designed tennis rackets to my feet and traipsing through the Cascade range, but since there wasn't much new snow on the ground it made more sense to rent some cross country skis and explore the area around Mt. Bachelor instead.

I've always had a hard time with skiing. I tried downhill once, at Coffee Mill Ski Area in Wabasha, MN. Which you might not recognize as an alpine region, because it's a river bluff along the Mississippi. Nonetheless, it was formidable enough to scare me away from the slopes for 15 years. Then I moved to Oregon, a mere 50 miles from Mt. Hood, and decided that I should give winter sports another shot. So I strapped my legs to a snowboard this time and threw myself down a bigger hill. Results were not optimal.

This weekend I revisited skiing of the Nordic variety. About 5 years ago I was convinced to do a 10k ski race across a section of Lake Superior, although I had no previous experience. Guess how that turned out.

But this time I went back for a round two, and you know what -- this broad's not half bad on a couple of planks. And boy do I feel like an athlete. And by that I mean I can barely walk and until yesterday I had forgotten I had triceps.

What a lovely way to witness winter.