These are my day dreams in the winter

There are some days, especially those in the winter, that when I sit down at my desk and my mind doesn't go straight to the work to be done for the day. I walk into the kitchenette to get some coffee and I look outside, out into the cold damp dark morning. I watch as the working people rush into the coffee shop across the street and the computer monitors light-up in the office windows across the way. It is in these moments that my mind drifts far away from the hustle and the bustle of the city, my mind drifts off towards a snowy mountain pass somewhere. A road with tall, majestic fir trees lining the way; branches laden with snow and slumping towards the ground. Past the road, there is a deep dark snowy woods. A woods that is slowly filling with a soft morning light; going from a muddled navy to a light hazy lavender. There in the woods is untouched powder. It softy blankets the base of the trees, just waiting... waiting for someone to track through it. White, perfect, crisp, silent, still...

These are my day dreams in the winter.

I am not one to dream for Caribbean Cruise vacations filled with snorkeling and sandy beaches. My drinks do not come in coconuts with little umbrellas. My screen saver is not palm trees and crystal blue water. It is the snow, it is the trees, it is the mountains, and it is the cold. And these things I would gladly pass up any tropical vacation for. These are my day dreams, not only in the winter... but in the summer too.

Over the past few weeks a few storms have rolled into the mountains and dumped a fair amount of snow on the slopes of Mt. Hood. This has provided an ample base to begin the snowboarding/ski season and so this past weekend, I partook for the first time this winter. I've been keeping myself busy racing bikes all spring, summer, and fall long... but each time I put on my racing spandex and pull out my bike, I am secretly wishing for the time when I can put it away for a while. I am waiting till it gets cold, till it gets wet, and the seasons change. I've had my snowboarding bag, filled with my base layers, my wool socks, my snowboarding pants and my red parka, packed for the past three months, just waiting. I got my board waxed and edged last month.... just waiting.

I love pretty much everything about a trip to the mountain.

I love meeting my friends in the morning; coffee, breakfast burrito, and snowboard in hand... just waiting for the adventure that the day will bestow upon us. I love the approach, the drive up to the mountain. I love seeing how far away the snow starts. I love passing the Mt. Hood Wilderness sign and seeing cars pull over on the side of the road to put their chains on. I love the trees that line the way, branches heavy with snow. Little cabins nestled in the woods, warm glows coming from inside. I love telling my friends to be quiet for Silent Rock (respect it ya'll). I love the view that comes right after we pass it. I love seeing that first glimpse of the mountain. I love getting our parking spot and then getting out into the cold air in an eager attempt to layer up as quick as you can before the chill from the air gets to you. I love that first chair ride up, hearing the snow... listening for what it sounds like under the skis and boards of those below. I love trying to spot the powder stashes off to the side. And I love love love if it's a powdery day. If the snow is soft and light. I love if I can make it to my favorite little tree sections before they get all run through.

(I heart Jack's Woods)

I love the trees. I am sure that one day they will be the end of me, but I love nothing more on the mountain than a deep steep section of trees. I love plotting my way through them. Connecting the dots, using the trees as markers, swishing left, swooping right, narrowly making it through some trees that are only wide enough for a board, ducking under a fallen tree or a low branch. I love seeing a waterfall of powder under me... the snow becomes fluid, just like me, it cascades below till I catch up with it. More than doing tree runs themselves though, I love the trees because it is here that the mountain seems the quietest. Away from the lift lines, away from the park punks, away from the hill bombing toddlers, here in the woods it is still. Here in the woods I have the greatest connection to nature. I feel a part of the world around me. I honestly wish I could have a tree-run that would last for hours, endlessly boarding down without ever having to stand in a lift line to do it all over again.

But alas... at some point an end of the day has to come and with it, a sobering ride home from the mountain. That's the part I hate the most; leaving, driving, being tired from the exposure and the exhilaration. I wish at the end of each snowboarding day there was a few pints of a nice stout or porter, some pizza, cajun tots and then I'd magically be whisked away to a hot tub, a fireplace and a warm bed... wanting nothing but waiting for the alarm to go off and then do it all over again the next day.

Unlike many, I never listen to music while riding on the mountain - but if I did... it would be this song on repeat. There is just something about it that takes me to a snowy woods... enjoy and happy daydreams yourself.

	Fleet Foxes - Blue Ridge Mountains .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

3.31.07

So, the word was released yesterday that one of my favorite singers, Brandi Carlile, was planning to play one of my favorite venues in Portland, Mississippi Studios, in just a few weeks. Looking forward to attending this show, it's impossible to not recall the events that happened roughly three years prior, the last time Brandi played Mississippi Studios March 31, 2007. This date is also the exact same day that I gleefully entered Portland as a newly minted resident. The following story is more about the events that led up to that show than the show itself. These events pretty much symbolized everything I had been working for and looking forward to for so long. It just so happened that the silver lining was a Brandi show.

Mississippi Studios is a special place and 3.31.07 was a special day for me indeed. I'd been a Brandi fan for a few years by that point and been on "the forum" and everything... but I lived so so so far away from every body and everything (Savannah, GA) that I'd never met anyone aside from randomly talking to people at shows hours away, that were also Brandi fans, so I felt pretty isolated. Anyways, getting out of the South and moving to a new life and living in a place that "felt like home" was a pretty big deal for me. Ever since I can remember, I'd been searching for a place that felt like home and had randomly discovered it during a work trip out to the Northwest in 04. Since that time I had set my sights on moving out west, but it was a project several years in the making that always seemed to be plagued by opportunities to stay and settle for something safe and secure. However, by winter of 2007 I was going through a pretty rough emotional patch... so instead of focusing on the negative, I focused on the positive, which was moving to Portland and starting a new life. Luckily, it seemed there was a Brandi show at the end of March that would coincide with my arrival... so I wrangled down tickets to the elusive back to back show and plotted my move.

I was set to arrive in Portland a few days prior to the show, but somewhere along my drive across the country (Gillette Wyoming to be exact) I got stuck in a massive blizzard. The days spent in a roadside hotel started to pile up and I found myself about 24hrs away from the show and still a two day drive away with a reluctant blizzard and the Department of Transportation, who was refusing to open the highways, standing in my way.

Going stir crazy in my hotel room, I'd go out to my car and try to shovel it out only to have my hotel neighbors come out to stare at me and ask where in the hell I thought I was going? I'd reply... "Portland, I gotta get to a concert." Everyone told me I was crazy... that the only way out of Gillette was on the state roads that they had just opened, but once I made it to those, I'd have to drive 200 miles north, out of the way, till I reconnected with the highway and then I'd still have to deal with the blizzard once I turned back west. Well,... I was willing to take that chance. My hotel neighbors just smiled, shook their heads and said that must be some concert I was planning on attending. To which I responded..."It is". I mean, it wasn't just about the concert. Sure I was excited to see Brandi, but more than anything else I was anxious to start my new life and I was excited to finally meet in person some wonderful people that I'd been in contact with over the past few years.

After successfully digging out my fully packed Subaru, I hit the road at appx 2:30pm Friday with plans on getting to Portland by 5:30pm Saturday evening after a 16 hour all night drive. And, I did just as the people said... I drove 200 miles out of the way till the state road reconnected with the highway in Montana. At that point however, I still had the same massive blizzard system that was stalling above Billings ahead of me. It loomed like a massive dark cloud in the sky... trucks were piled up on the highway still waiting for the highway into Wyoming through the Indian Reservations to open. I was afraid that Montana would close their highways just as Wyoming had. I was afraid that I was going to get stuck in the this friggin blizzard all over once again. I was afraid to have wasted my efforts up to this point. So, upon entering the storm cloud, I stopped at a gas station... filled up, grabbed some Starbucks double shot espresso and hit the road. It didn't take long to see that this wasn't going to be an easy drive. All over the place cars were swerving off the road and running into each other. In fact, my windshield was freezing over and the only way I could see out of my window was through a six inch square. White knuckled driving would be the easy way to describe it.

I was getting scared, things were not looking good for me at this point. So, I pulled off at an exit and called my mom back home in Ohio and asked her for an update on the road and the storm. She pulled up MDOT on her laptop and gave me the lowdown. Right now, the roads around Billings where I was at were a level 5 (as in downright shit ass conditions) but... just 30 miles west... the roads were clean, dry and the sky was clear. I just had to make it those thirty miles and I was home free to Portland (providing I still had about 13 hours of driving ahead of me). Clearly, the best, the easiest and the safest option would have been to settle down in Billings for the night and wait for the storm to clear and then be on my way. But, if safe and easy were my concerns... I would have stayed in Savannah or taken that art teacher/soccer-softball coaching job that was offered to me back in Ohio. However, I didn't want to settle for safe and easy. I wanted to get to Oregon.

So, I pulled the car back on the highway and steered my way through the visible six inches I had of blinding white snow. Still, cars were going off the road left and right... I just held my breath and focused, trying to make out the road ahead of me and reminding myself that right on the other side of this mess was dry, clean pavement. Eventually, I noticed the cars coming the opposite direction had very little snow on them. This gave me hope... I must be getting close. I noticed less and less snow on the oncoming cars... and somewhere in front of me... the sky seemed to open up. Finally, instead of my car sliding through inches snow it changed to rolling on wet pavement. The wet pavement then turned to dry pavement and the sky cleared, and there above me were stars. Brilliant white shining stars nestled in a deep deep navy blue sky. I looked behind me to see the massive storm cloud still hovering and dumping on the land and I breathed a massive deep sigh of relief. I had made it. I had finally gotten out of this storm that repeatedly tried to stall my progress. Now, nothing stood in my way (other than a lack of sleep)... I was enroute to Portland to go to a concert.

Needless to say, I drove all night. I stopped to get gas at any chance I could for fear that I would be stranded in the mountain passes over night. Somewhere outside of Missoula I stopped my car at a rest stop for a few hours and caught a cat nap till about 4am. Then, it was back on the road... 8 hours and 24 minutes till Portland. The rest of the drive was pretty uneventful. I saw the sunrise in Idaho and entered Washington state with a giant smile on my face. From there it was south to Oregon and the magnificent Columbia River which I followed all the way pretty much into downtown Portland where I was greeted with a brief rain shower upon crossing the city limits sign. At 3:30pm I unloaded my car at my friends house in SW Portland and then found my way over to Mississippi Street at about 5:30pm to greet my best friends that I had never before met. I don't think at that point anyone could have wiped the smile on my face. I don't know if I was happy just to be out of that car, to have finally arrived in Portland, to eat some decent food that wasn't cooked in a hotel microwave, to meet my friends, or to get to see Brandi again.

To say the least, both shows that night on March 31 were great. Brandi and the boys were seemingly on fire. It was the second stop of their tour for "The Story" which was set to be released a few days later on April 3rd and I think they were so amped and excited to get started. Mississippi Studios is such a small and intimate venue that at that time, could only seat about 70 people and the band sounded amazing. During the show I filmed a few songs (I actually had problems keeping the camera steady since I was so fatigued from driving) regardless though, I put the videos up on youtube and watched the view hits start coming in. Later that month, Brandi showed up on Grey's Anatomy and Conan O'Brien with the title track from the album and then well, there were commercials during the Olympics and now American Idol singers trying their hand at singing her tunes and the rest is pretty much history. In fact, due to the popularity of AI and the debate on how the song was sung... my video on youtube is getting even more play now at about 1,300,000 views.

One of my favorite moments of the evening was after the show I was getting Brandi to sign my ticket stub and I told her all about my trek through the blizzard to get to the show. Then, Brandi proceeded to tell me a similar story about how once she drove through a massive blizzard to get to an Indigo Girls show and afterwards, told Amy Ray all about it. Amy Ray looked at Brandi and after hearing her story just said... "that was stupid". It was at that moment that I realized Brandi had just called me stupid. Good play Ms. Carilie, good play. :)

Back prior to all of this in December of 2006, inspired by a hiking trip I had taken up Mt. Hood to see Timberline Lodge the March before, I got a tattoo on my ankle that simply said the words "snowshoe". To this day still, quite often people will see it and ask if I really like snowshoeing enough to get a tattoo of it on my ankle? I just have to look at them and laugh. See, "snowshoe" the tattoo isn't really an activity, it's a just word that symbolizes not settling for less than you want. Snowshoes are designed to float on top of the snow, they allow for easier passage, they help you reach your goals. Without them, one might be tempted to just stay in one place. To let the snow and the struggle pass. To wait for spring time to come and the storms to clear. However, before you know it... spring has turned into summer and then to fall and back into winter. Next thing you know, winter after winter has come and gone all those dreams and aspirations you had are now just faint memories. Stories you tell your kids about things you wanted to do, but then things got rough and well... life happened. But we should all strive to be a snowshoe. To float on top of the shit and get to your destination... to reach your goals and achieve your aspirations. To get where you want.

Really, looking back at that blizzard in 2007 with my car loaded full of all my possessions (including snowshoes)... it's not surprising that I kept driving. I had a concert in Portland to get to afterall. :)

Mt. Baker photo journal...

Howdy everyone, I just wanted to take a break from the lack of blogging (i've been busy at work!) to show everyone some photos from my trip up to Mt. Baker, Washington a few weekends ago for a few days of boarding, beer, boots, buddies, baked goods and cabins. (ps... through the formatting of my blog, it cuts off 1/3 of any of my horizontal pics, so click on them for the full view)

On our way there, we took a slight detour through downtown Seattle where sure enough, we got stuck in traffic right next to the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile!!!

(art outside of the Evo Store. Fittingly made with snowboards, skis, and crutches)

While in Seattle, we drove to Fremont to pay our friends at EVO a visit. For those of you not in the know, Evo is a fun little company out of Seattle that offers amazing deals on snowboarding, ski, wakeboarding, and skateboarding equipment. Their main presence is on the web, but they do have a brick and mortar location. Sam has spent some quality time with Evo recently as she has ordered at least five various pairs of snowboard boots, each failing to fit. So... we thought instead of paying for S&H over and over and over again, it'd make so much more sense to just try the boots on in the store. Needless to say, that's exactly what we did. Needless to say, it took about three hours. So, while Sam fiddled with boots, Julie, Amy and I aimlessly fingered through merch, sat in big comfy chairs, read snowboarding magazines (ie: looked at photos), and talked boarding with some highly energetic and informative sales staff. Waiting for Sam to find the perfect pair of boots could have been a very painful process... but thankfully it was pretty enjoyable. And to make it better, the Evo folks sent us on our way through Seattle rush hour with a goodie bag full of Red Bull, Clif Bars and stickers.

The cool thing about driving up north of Seattle towards the Canadian boarder is that the surrounding mountains are so much more dramatic. We have mountains down in Oregon, but they are older and smaller, more worn down over time. Up here though, each peak is snowcapped and rugged... it lends itself to the imagination and day dreams of climbing each one of them.

Our lodging for the weekend was in this cute little cabin in Glacier, WA. Roughly a thirty minute drive from Mt. Baker and about 45 minutes from Bellingham. The cabin was perfect. Not too cutesy, but yet not to rustic that we had to go pee in an outhouse either. It had a full sized tiny kitchen, a wood burning stove which heated the whole place, hot shower, and was really built with huge logs that formed all the main load bearing walls. There was no paneling, no ceiling, no art, minimal light sources, and no TV. We made some tasty meals in here and some of Julie's infamous cookies. As well, the people who run the cabins are really nice and they even lent us some missing ingredients we needed for our baked goods. If one were to take a walk down the unnamed road nearby, they'd be privy to a beautiful sweeping vista of Mt. Baker in the distance with a gurgling river running nearby. It was a great place to watch the sunset on the mountain. I think that I'll defiantly be stopping by this place again.

When passing through Glacier on your way to Baker, you can stop and get a coffee and scone at the Wake N' Bakery. Not only is their name amusing, but their pastries looked delicious and they had a pretty wicked cool back fence made from old ski's.

Saturday morning we all woke early and got the the mountain, primed for a good parking spot and an excellent day on the mountain. The conditions were perfect for springtime, high at about 50 degrees, beautiful blue skies and soft snow. Sadly, some patches were icy due to half of the runs being in shade, but really... providing it was early March... we really couldn't have asked for anything more (though fresh dumps of powder would have been nice).

The coolest thing about Mt. Baker has got to be their backcountry terrain. In order to access backcountry from the ski resort, you have to pass a dude at ski patrol who's job it is to stop you and make sure you have all the necessary backcountry gear (shovel, probe, beacon, friends, etc). Seeing how none of us have invested in backcountry beacons ... we could not gain access, but a girl can dream and also plan her next trip to Baker.

(I want to play here....)

I love Sam's reflective goggles...

Sam of the Mountains....

Sadly, the only disappointing thing about our trip to Mt. Baker was the ass-hole quotient of the people on the slopes. I don't like making broad sweeping generalizations about a certain age-group or demographic, but there were a fair amount of male snowboarders between the ages of 16-25 that did not do wonders for representation the male species. I could go into a massive diatribe about that, but.... this post is about pretty pictures, not ass-holes.

(props to Julie T. for her fine camera)

Captain Obvious

So, it's no surprise that I am a massive fan of the Olympics, especially the Winter Olympics. Nothing gives me more joy than watching athletes dress from head to toe in tight tight spandex and throw/hurl/huck/propel themselves off of steep slopes/chutes/ice sheets as fast and as recklessly as humanly possible. True, the Summer Olympics and the athletes may be more scantily clad, tan and aesthetically appealing themselves, but it takes a special person to be a Winter Olympian. More often than not, these are the kids who never turned down a dare. Weather it was doing a back flip off a jump or wearing a sequined flamboyant feathered outfit... these are the people that when faced with obstacles that most sane people run away from (like copious amounts of ice and snow... or sequins), winter athletes embrace. While most people travel south to warmer sunnier climates for the winter, these athletes head north, up high towards the cold, the hard and the fast.

The interesting thing about the Winter Olympics, as opposed to the Summer Olympics, is that it's compelling in a very exclusive way... meaning not that everyone can do it. Ideally, all fit and able bodied people can watch the Summer Olympics at home and then inspired by the events on TV, rush outside to play soccer, baseball, softball, basketball, run, swim, bike, play tennis, etc... as I did; however, for most people, this is not an option for the Winter Olympics. It its pretty much a fact that in order to be a Winter Olympic athlete you have to have access to proper terrain, cold enough winters, ice rinks, and gear to participate. Which sadly also means copious amounts of money, a sugar daddy, or communist country that told you it was your job (that is unless you are the Jamaican Bobsled Team... and that's another story). As a result of this adversity, the majority of citizens of the world cannot participate in said Winter Olympic events and thereby, do not really understand the nature and rules of sports themselves.

In the Summer Olympics, seemingly everyone is a critic. Every Joe Six Pack can watch an event and say to themselves... "Man, I could have done that better than that dude. I mean, like back in high school when I used to high jump, before I got that job. If I had only practiced a little harder, been more dedicated, I could have been there." In the Winter Olympics, there is far less personal guilt involved as majority of people watching, can only regret not living in a place conducive to those sports. This regret is nothing that should really keep us up at night since most of us at a young age, had no say in where we grew up. You either lived in one of those places where they did those sports and your parents allowed you to participate... or you lived in Southern Ohio and didn't have a chance to start with.

In the Winter Olympics, the majority of the population has to rely on the TV announcers to be the critics and the experts. We need them to explain the rules and protocol for biathlon, ski jump and curling. While quite often they'll bring in expert analysts (also known as former Olympians who need a job and are kinda still familiar to the general public from their short stint on a Wheaties Box), it's up to the full time announcers to carry the weight of the broadcast. Some of the TV announcers themselves, are also kinda unfamiliar with the games and thusly, have to fill in the silence between drama and action with words. As a result, they are more prone to say dumb-assed things when trying to avoid not knowing what they are really talking about.

Take for example... while watching figure skating the other evening, one announcer actually said: "you know, the Canadian couple thought they had a pretty good shot of winning till they fell." Or in the nordic combined as the athletes were entering in their final lap on the course and an all out sprint ensued... one announcer said "so-and-so would have a pretty good chance of catching up with the lead pack if only he wasn't so tired."

No shit.

Thank you Captain Obvious.