North Portland Street Ramble

On Wednesday I led a Evening Ramble for the Adventurous Young Mazamas. We met in downtown Saint Johns in North Portland and crossed over the Saint Johns bridge. From there we walked up the Ridge Trail into Forest Park.

I had attempted to lead this route in late May, but nobody showed up. That was not the case on Wednesday. I was very pleased that I had three hikers that had gone on this ramble with me in previous years!

It was a great day for a ramble. Not to hot with a little breeze. As we returned along the Saint Johns Bridge there was a pink glow from the sunset. In the distance we could see Mounts Adams, Rainier, Hood, and St Helens!

Natural Grace

Did you know that Alder fertilizes forest soils by taking nitrogen out of the air and then 'fixing' it into the soil?  That Sea Otters have half-million hairs per square inch of skin?  Mosquitoes are attracted to us by the carbon dioxide we exhale as well as skin oils, lactic & folic acids, body heat, and lotions.  Were you aware that the years biggest tides are always near the summer and winter solstice?

These are some of the many factoids that you can find in William Dietrich's book Natural Grace:  The Charm, Wonder, & Lessons of Pacific Northwest Animals and Plants.  The author presents a series of short reflections of the floral and fauna of our region.  Not only does he write about Northwest icons such as the Geoduck and Orca, but species that are taken for granted such as the Jellyfish are also given the limelight.

It would be tempting to look at this book just as series of articles, but I think in this case the sum is greater than the whole of its parts.  Dietrich is trying to illustrate that we could learn something from the animals that populate the region.  That by their existence in our backyard is telling us something.  We could find it encouraging that the Sea Otter's numbers are rebounding.  Then again, the decline of predators at the top of the food chain like the Orca could be a canary in our coal mine.  It is important to note that there are hundreds of species out there that work in concert.  If you remove one, it could have great repercussions on the ecosystem.  There are messages everywhere, we just need to pay attention.

Tremble with Fear

Yesterday I drove to Camp Parsons to attend the Friday Night Campfire.  While I avoided the traffic in Portland and Vancouver, I was held up by traffic in Shelton (?!?) and maintenance of the Duckabush River Bridge.  As usual, it was a treat to drive up and down Highway 101 along the Hood Canal.  When I arrived it hit me that with exception of the camp management, I did not know many of the staff members.  I did get the opportunity to get meet some of the new faces on the staff, some of whom came up to me and introduced themselves.  I also saw staff members walking around that were toddlers when I last saw them.

The skits and songs during the campfire were a nice mix of material that was old and new to me.  There was one skit, Falling Rock, that I had performed long ago and since forgotten.  During the evening shivers ran down my spine as familiar tunes and words triggered memories of times spent with staffers of my generation.  

Just as important as attending the campfire was catching up with those that I know.  The interesting dynamic is that I am a guest and they are on the job, so I appreciated the chance to spend some time with my fellows.  It was good to see that the Kramers (parents and kids) are having a great time at camp.  It is also refreshing to see the improvements the staff have made in the program since my time.  

One interesting side note, on the way home I stopped at the Janzen Beach Shopping Center to take care of an errand.  In the parking lot a troop of Boy Scouts from the Seattle area was debarking from a bus.  When I asked them where they were going, I found out they were from my home town of Kirkland, returning from a week at Camp Meriwether on the Oregon Coast.

Summer Read: In Defense of Food

There are times when I think I spend too much time in the kitchen.  When I moved to Portland ten years ago, I knew I had a couple of choices as far as feeding myself.  I could live on frozen food, fast food, or improve my cooking skills.  The first two did not seem economical or healthy to me, so over the years I have shifted from the frozen fish sticks to finding great recipes for beans and greens.  I think I have done a good job over the years, but it requires a healthy investment of time.

When a co-worker told me about Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food:  An Eater's Manifesto, it peaked my interest.  I have always been on the lookout to improve my eating habits, so this seemed like a natural choice.  Between the covers Mr. Pollan talked about the politics of daily recommended allowances, the folly of nutritionalism, and how there is widespread confusion on what we should eat.  The author argues that we are not eating food, but 'edible food like substances'.  That the more we worry about nutrition, the less healthy we become.  And as a rallying cry against the Western Diet, food industry and nutritional science, he offers the following mantra:  Eat Food.  Not too Much.  Mostly Plants.  It seemed fitting that a book about food would offer a sound bite as a panacea.  But I thought the author could do more to provide substance to this simple jingle.

I think that this book gave me some good insights to improving my eating habits.  I believe I benefit in my efforts to prepare meals from scratch.  However, I'm not about to go foraging in the woods for edible greens.  Nor am I going to get a spare freezer so I can purchase a whole hog, cut it up into parts, and freeze it.  My freezer is already full of frozen blueberries and garbanzo beans.  I want to improve my eating habits, but not squander too much time and energy on one aspect of life.

Mt Baker - Return to North Cascades

About a month ago I stood on the summit of Middle Sister and looked North to see the faint outline of Mt. Adams.  Two weeks later on the top of Mt. Adams I peered North again, this time to see Mt. Baker in the distance.  It seemed only right to drive north, just short of the Canadian border, to ascend up the slopes of Mt. Baker.  We assembled in Glacier, Washington with Mazamas climb leader Whit Fellers.  This was my first climb of the season where I was not the Assistant Climb Leader.  I was looking forward to being just a team member, even though I would have to take turns carrying the rope.  As a University of Washington alum I was pleased to see that the colors of our ropes were purple and yellow.

Mt. Baker is the second most glaciated peak in the lower 48 states, so once we left the trail we roped up.  Only when we arrived at our campsite at Black Buttes Ridge did we unclip from our rope.  While others went to nearby rock outcropping to fill up water bottles I dug out a eating area in the snow.  Later we assembled for dinner.  Above us was the summit, towering over the vast fields of broken ice.  With out stomachs full we reviewed crevasse rescue and then retired for the night.

Our slumber was interrupted by the crash of icefall in the distance.  We stepped out of tents  to clear skies and the moonlight shining off of the snow, which did not last for long.  As we gained elevation wisps of dark clouds started to encircle the summit.  A lenticular cloud was forming there.  These flying saucer like clouds are often a suggestion of precipitation within 48 hours.  They can form fast and I have heard that one does not want to be caught in one on a mountain summit.  We continued to ascend and monitor, placing extra wands to mark our trail.  These would help us navigate back to base camp should the mountain be shrouded in a whiteout.

When I first saw that cloud forming, I thought there was a good chance that we would not reach the summit, so I decided to observe how our leader assessed and handled the situation.  That would help shift my focus from the summit to learning from the experience.  It seems that the patron saint of mountain climbers was looking after us during this trip.  First the Forest Service had completed a new bridge across Grouse Creek just before we started.   Then hours before we arrived at our base camp they had installed two privies at our base camp.  Then the lenticular cloud broke up, so we continued upwards, past the crevasses and ice fall.  The toughest part was the slog up the Roman Wall.  Upon the crater the clouds cleared up and we could see the summit in the distance.  Soon we were on top and it was windy.  I was surrounded by memories of biking in the San Juan Islands, camping in British Columbia, and climbing in the North Cascades.

The snow was getting softer so it was time to descend.  As we returned to Black Buttes more climbers were arriving.  Not long after we took down our tents others were pitched in the same place.  I was really impressed when our climb leader asked us for feedback.  The chance to discuss how the climb went made it even more meaningful.

More photos can be found here.

Full House on Mears Street

Recently I was blessed with the visit of my sister Tanya and nephew Oscar.  They took the train from Seattle to Portland, which was a thrill for Oscar.

Only hours later my cousin Eric and wife Karen and their daughters Julianna and Sophia pulled into my driveway.

It was great to spend time with everybody.  The big thrill for me was to watch Julianna and Oscar riding bikes and trikes in my backyard.  I knew there was a good reason to have a large concrete patio.

Summer Reading: The Sea Runners

I have completed reading Ivan Doig's novel The Sea Runners.  I must admit that part of my interest in this author is that he is fellow University of Washington graduate.  However, I was also drawn to this book because it is a tale of the Pacific Northwest.  Ever since reading Timothy Egan's The Good Rain I have been interested in how the land shapes us as individuals. 

Doig's novel is about four Swedish men who have signed up to be indentured servants at the Russian settlement in what is today's Stika, Alaska.  Their status is not much greater than slaves.  One of them organizes the theft of a canoe and they escape as the Russians are nursing hangovers from the Christmas celebration.  Their goal is to canoe south all of the way to the Astoria, Oregon.  Doing so they braved the wind, rain, ocean currents, starvation, natives and each other.

While the journey has its dangerous moments, it seemed that the greatest obstacle each had to overcome was the strenuous day to day living.  I think the author did a good job of creating four different men with different motivations and show how they coped with the day to day life.  As someone of Swedish descent, I also enjoyed getting insights into the people from my homeland at that period of time.