June 20th marked the first time in nearly 70 years that a full moon coincided with the Summer solstice, and although it’s been our home-base for some time now, I couldn’t think of a better time to finally traverse the iconic stretch of highway on which we live, guided by the glow of Earth’s only satellite. Continue reading
Virginia and I thought we’d kick it up a notch in 2015 and attempt two routes through the highest and most remote regions in the lower 48; the Sierra Nevada of California and Wind River range in northwest Wyoming. Continue reading
Planning to thru-hike an extended version of Roper’s Sierra High Route, I knew the dreaded bear canister had to join for the escapades. Shortly after becoming enamored with my Gossamer Gear “Kumo” backpack, the question popped into my head: Can I carry the Kumo with a bear canister? Research online proved little-to-no-help, so I set out to test not only the possibility but also the comfort of carrying a bear canister with my beloved pack. The results, a resounding success!
“People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing everyday.” – Winnie the Pooh
After a year of intensely satisfying travel, especially travel of an adventurous slant, willfully hopping back into the workforce with both feet is tinged with hesitance. It’s like chasing honey with vinegar. Resume gets updated, sloppy hair gets cut, and you try and look respectable. If Mom were here she’d spit on a hanky and scrub me red. Continue reading
The extended forecast showed sunny little icons for the next 7 days, which for Oregon in February is a blessing, so I’m told. The rain had stopped and we sat atop Dog Mountain in the Columbia River Gorge, eating chocolate pretzels and watching the little barges beneath us push their cargo up and down the river. We had driven east out of Portland the night before, finding a fairly level spot to park the van for the night and fell asleep with the sound of Multnomah Falls swishing through the roof vent. The climb that morning reminded us that we’d gotten soft since finishing the AT three months prior, although unlike most of the AT, this slog ended with a view. To the south, the tippy top of Mt Hood rose from the foothills, and to the north and northwest stood Adams and St Helens, blanketed by snow and standing in deep contrast to the blue sky. We’d tossed around the idea of climbing St Helens for weeks, and here was a perfect window; mild temps, no precip, calm winds. We decided to summit the next day.
Driving back into the city we hashed out the plan. Shove gear into our backpacks, throw some food together, rent crampons and ice axes from Next Adventure. Check, check, check. North on I-5, South on 503, Rt 90 East and follow the signs to Marble Mountain Sno-Park. Was it really that close? As a child raised back East, climbing volcanoes was akin to swimming to the moon. Yet here we were, preparing for an alpine start and not another car in the parking lot. Continue reading