Snowshoes
Mount Hood is about 90 minutes drive from Portland and - in addition to creating an impressive backdrop to the city's skyline on clear days - is the nearest ski destination.
No, I didn't take this one myself, but you get the idea...
Just before Christmas a colleague organised a trip up the mountain - in snowshoes. I'm up for almost anything and therefore found myself heading up to Timberline lodge one cool morning in late December in the back of a Ford Explorer (or some other analogous monstrosity - they all look the same to me). We hired the shoes in nearby Sandy; in case you're not familiar with these contraptions, essentially snowshoeing involves strapping each boot onto a metal plate which has teeth on the underside and a pivot at the ball of the foot which connects to a sporty looking plastic tray. The tray acts to spread one's tonnage across a wider area, thus limiting the speed with which one sinks, meanwhile the teeth grip the packed snow beneath you, reducing your chances of slipping when the other shoe is in transit. Most of the group new to the experience found it a little awkward and struggled initially to prevent one shoe landing on the other with cataclysmic effect. I, on the other hand, being naturally bow-legged, took to the sport like the proverbial duck to water! Although around freezing the sky was blue and the sun very bright and before long the vast majority of my ten-or-so layers were deposited in my backpack and I was shoeing up the mountain with the best of them in no more than a t-shirt and jacket. Surprisingly perhaps at the age of 32, it was my first trip up a mountain in winter time (well, apart from that time Rachel and I got lost on the way back from Santa Fe, but that wasn't really recreational) and I had a wonderful time! Everything was so bright in the sunshine and the snow was soft and white and festive and you could see forever and I felt lovely and warm and full of life though the air was cool and frosty. We didn't push it too far and climbed less than 1500 vertical feet, stopping half-way for sandwiches and the large bar of Cadbury's chocolate I'd stowed away especially for the occasion. The journey down was much easier of course and I rewarded myself at that end with a big mug of cocoa at the Lodge. The apres shoe, if you will.
Up a certain mountain...
It was a quiet day on the mountain as the snowfall has been well under-average this year (no this is nothing to do with so-called "global warming" and all the SUV's on the road, you communist), which meant that until very recently the runs were nothing but ice and protruding boulders. My next trip to the mountain will probably be to attempt skiing for the first time as with Linda, Leon, Julie and Ben all working as instructors this year I should be in safe hands. Wish me luck.
We've had more of an opportunity to explore our neighborhood recently and I must say I really like it: it reminds me very much of the North Laines in Brighton circa about 1990 - you know, before the money moved in and The Green Dragon became The Office; all cafes and bric-a-brac shops, comic and retro clothes stores, specialty delis, the odd arty little boutique, bookshops, ethnic mini-markets, a good sprinkling of bars. Halcyon days for Brighton, but its all still right here in Portland at prices you can afford (yes, you especially, with your hard currencies). Plus Hawthorne Boulevard has a Ben and Jerry's. And Big Daddy's BBQ.
We finally got around to seeing Team America: World Police at a second run cinema around the corner last week. Definitely worth seeing; even better after a couple of beers, when you might even find yourself singing along as the puppet jets swing into action: "America - fuck yeah! Coming again to save the motherfucking day, yeah!"
Must dash now as season 4 of 24 is about to premiere on Fox...
No, I didn't take this one myself, but you get the idea...
Just before Christmas a colleague organised a trip up the mountain - in snowshoes. I'm up for almost anything and therefore found myself heading up to Timberline lodge one cool morning in late December in the back of a Ford Explorer (or some other analogous monstrosity - they all look the same to me). We hired the shoes in nearby Sandy; in case you're not familiar with these contraptions, essentially snowshoeing involves strapping each boot onto a metal plate which has teeth on the underside and a pivot at the ball of the foot which connects to a sporty looking plastic tray. The tray acts to spread one's tonnage across a wider area, thus limiting the speed with which one sinks, meanwhile the teeth grip the packed snow beneath you, reducing your chances of slipping when the other shoe is in transit. Most of the group new to the experience found it a little awkward and struggled initially to prevent one shoe landing on the other with cataclysmic effect. I, on the other hand, being naturally bow-legged, took to the sport like the proverbial duck to water! Although around freezing the sky was blue and the sun very bright and before long the vast majority of my ten-or-so layers were deposited in my backpack and I was shoeing up the mountain with the best of them in no more than a t-shirt and jacket. Surprisingly perhaps at the age of 32, it was my first trip up a mountain in winter time (well, apart from that time Rachel and I got lost on the way back from Santa Fe, but that wasn't really recreational) and I had a wonderful time! Everything was so bright in the sunshine and the snow was soft and white and festive and you could see forever and I felt lovely and warm and full of life though the air was cool and frosty. We didn't push it too far and climbed less than 1500 vertical feet, stopping half-way for sandwiches and the large bar of Cadbury's chocolate I'd stowed away especially for the occasion. The journey down was much easier of course and I rewarded myself at that end with a big mug of cocoa at the Lodge. The apres shoe, if you will.
Up a certain mountain...
It was a quiet day on the mountain as the snowfall has been well under-average this year (no this is nothing to do with so-called "global warming" and all the SUV's on the road, you communist), which meant that until very recently the runs were nothing but ice and protruding boulders. My next trip to the mountain will probably be to attempt skiing for the first time as with Linda, Leon, Julie and Ben all working as instructors this year I should be in safe hands. Wish me luck.
We've had more of an opportunity to explore our neighborhood recently and I must say I really like it: it reminds me very much of the North Laines in Brighton circa about 1990 - you know, before the money moved in and The Green Dragon became The Office; all cafes and bric-a-brac shops, comic and retro clothes stores, specialty delis, the odd arty little boutique, bookshops, ethnic mini-markets, a good sprinkling of bars. Halcyon days for Brighton, but its all still right here in Portland at prices you can afford (yes, you especially, with your hard currencies). Plus Hawthorne Boulevard has a Ben and Jerry's. And Big Daddy's BBQ.
We finally got around to seeing Team America: World Police at a second run cinema around the corner last week. Definitely worth seeing; even better after a couple of beers, when you might even find yourself singing along as the puppet jets swing into action: "America - fuck yeah! Coming again to save the motherfucking day, yeah!"
Must dash now as season 4 of 24 is about to premiere on Fox...
posted by Richard Tammar at 6:46 PM
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