Green Bay & Day

Here I am, sitting up over the hill back in Duluth. Just got back from Brian Day's wedding in Green Bay, WI. He is a good friend from my UW-Stevens Point days. The wedding was great and I got to see some cats that I haven't seen since our Hawaii trip 4 years ago!
In between the church and the reception I sat down at Curly's Pub in Lambeau Field for a good ole Spotted Cow brew-again from my Stevens Point days. The following day I drove up to Door County and hiked around Whitefish Dunes State Park. For a good chunk of the day I laid on the beach (along with a thousand other people) and swam under the hot sun.

After leaving the Dunes I stopped at a boat launch and dined on spaghetti-of which I've been living off of since the wedding. I stopped again in Ashland to cook and eat on my way back to Duluth. I slept in Nicolet National Forest the previous night.

Today I am heading up to Two Harbors to meet with Granite Gear and the Superior Hiking Trail Association. GG is graciously helping me purchase some gear for my upcoming thru-hike of the SHT. Afterwards I am heading back down to the cities to spend some time with my folks (who have been watching Tischer for almost 3 weeks now!), run, skate, and plan for the hike.

Rain today-such a soothing sound!

Dancing the night away

I catch a flight back to Minneapolis shortly. I'm all packed and excited for my buddies wedding in Green Bay this weekend. Last evening was beautiful here in Portland and I hung out with Gomez. Everything is so great, and I didn't sleep last night.

Or so it seems.

Curiously afraid of the soft couch and another stiff neck I risked it last night. It seems my body is growing accustom to hard surfaces, having slept on the ground or floor all but 6 or 7 nights the last 2 plus months. In hindsight I had nothing to fear.

For just after drifting off to sleep in SE Portland, I walked into a show at an unidentifiable bar. The band was Trampled by Turtles and my good bud Greggy P was there with me.

We claimed a ledge in the corner and acquired some cold Silos in our hands. The smell was one I remember from shows in college, the crowd was full of people I recognize-though I can recall no one specifically-and I was carefree as the music began.

The entire room and I danced the whole night. My feet moving in familiar rhythms and my head swaying in a way that felt just right. Randomly (as many dreams go), at one point I strummed a guitar while the band took a break.

Upon waking up, I was sweating. Instantly I was surprised at my whereabouts. I can remember the night so exact that it had to have happened. I remember feeling so content, looking at G and realizing this was the place I should be-and no other.

In talking with Gomez this morning, she compared it to dreams of finishing homework and waking up with it un-done. A bummer indeed. I'll be the first to admit that I can be a crazy sleeper. That is why I suspect that had you wandered through that living room in SE Portland last night, you would have seen me rolling and bouncing in between kicking and sliding on that red couch. Fast asleep.

So much better than that weird dream when I was little where I'm falling and can't scream...

2 Weeks Later

I find myself in Portland at MC's house, in front of his computer on a misty day. Almost 2 weeks ago I left White Bear Lake with Greggy P. headed toward Missoula in his silver mini-van. With the rear seats removed, he built a platform spanning nearly the length of the vehicle, on which he laid his crash pad. The trip back west was awesome, mostly because it wasn't just me.

We watched the sunset from the side of I-94 in North Dakota while eating Cup'n'Cone subs that I had picked up the day before. We witnessed a small brawl between men outside a casino in Miles City while filling up on gas. And we alternated sleeping and driving through the night making the drive feel really easy.

In Bozemen, we headed south to West Yellowstone to see our friend Wado with whom I worked with one summer a few years back. He was relaxing after a summer of work in a luxurious pad just off of Hebgen Lake, and we swung in with an early morning wake-up call consisting of our last two beers, a container of my mom's homemade stuffed peppers, and a carton of eggs. We feasted and took in the sights from the front deck. A real quick stop to see Josh and Jamie and Greggy and I were back at it.

We rolled into Missoula and I caught up with Ryan for a round of Frisbee golf up at Pattie Canyon. Then joined a large group outside at Bayern Brewery, and on to Kewanis Park outside of Pablo's house. Finally, we made our way to Sean Kelley's for an evening with Tom Catmull. After Tom finished his last lyric, we couldn't resist the enticing flavor of The Oxford and JJ's Special.

I ran a 5k with Scotty the next morning. And as early as it was I still managed a personal best. It felt good. Some of us gathered up in the Grant Creek area where Scott and Jen just moved for Early Morning Risers on the grill and bloodies in old canning jars. Ultimate Bocce Ball around the yard, tunes on the radio, napping in the shade on an awfully hot day, back to town.

Another night in town and we loaded the van to head south through the Bitterroot to Goldbug Hot springs. Now we were a group of 4, adding Greg's girlfriend Erin and her sister Cara. The van blew a radiator literally on top of Lost Trail Pass. Limping to a gas station in North Fork, Idaho, we first discovered this and spent the night in the gravel parking lot up against a wood fence. We had Jameson, beer, dinner, and good attitudes after the reality settled in. Staying up late, we carved lanterns out of PBR cans and lit them. Greg slack lined between gas pumps under the station lights of the General Store we enjoyed the moments for what they were. It was what we were handed and we knew it. We could only accept it and so we did. It really was a great night and I would do it all over again if I could.

Two days later, after shacking up with friends in Salmon, Idaho while the van got fixed, we skipped the hot springs altogether because I needed to be at Reed for work. And that's why I find myself here in Portland now. I just wrapped up a freshmen trip that lasted over the last 5 days. A few prep and I had the group of 10 new students at the cabin from Saturday to Tuesday, doing something different each day. Canoeing on Timothy Lake, rafting the Deschutes River out of Maupin, climbing at Smith Rock State Park, and finally a half day of hiking near the cabin.

Last night, after all the gear was returned and details wrapped up, Matt and I headed up to his house to grill and play corn hole. A fish dinner around a bonfire in his backyard, Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson in the background, we rambled on and drank. A fine evening we all should have often.

I fly back to Minnesota tomorrow afternoon. The Northshore Inline Marathon is only a couple of weeks away. I plan on departing the day after that for my 3 week hike of the Superior Hiking Trail. Send good energy my way. I'll be back on The Mountain by the middle of October. Be sure to keep checking in!

5 Wide

At this point in the summer, after dinners with friends and family, canoeing lakes and rivers, rope swings, ball games, rooftops, dancing, sunsets, sunrises, storms, campfires, miles of pavement, dehydration, laughing and crying, and swimming nearly everyday, it is this picture that epitomizes my summer.  

Running five wide nude into The Lake at sunset.  Good company, refreshing water upon our toasted skin, and the energy of the sprint make up my satisfaction with how things have gone thus far.  In comparison with my expectations and hopes for the Summer of 2008, I couldn't possibly have any complaints.

If only you could see the looks on our faces! 

Lunch on Castle Rock

We spotted this large rock, worn and thrashed by Lake Superior year-round, on our paddle out to Oak Island.  It's size and single living tree intrigued us as we bobbed in the water from a distance, and so we decided to have lunch on it the following day.

After circling it and scouting possible lines up to the top, we tied our boats together in the protective confines behind a rock on the shore of Basswood Island.  It was a short swim out, and one by one we followed Andy, who had managed the first ascent, up and over the ledge.  

It is marked with a geological survey tag, identifying it as Castle Rock.  Made of sandstone, some of the ledges are thin, only inches in places.  After lunch and lounging, a few of us decided that the only safe way down was to jump.  Greg snapped the pictures and then handed down the goods.  

I've enjoyed meals in some fantastic places in my day, and I have to say that this one ranks up there among them all.  

Forever Young

I am bloodied and bruised.  My skin is tanned and crisp.  Joints are ragged and stiff and my muscles are hardened.  Sometimes my vision is blurred, sometimes clear but always I seem stunned at what sits on the horizon before my eyes.

If this summer, and especially this past month has demonstrated anything to me, it is that I am 27 strong.  I just stumbled into my folks house this morning after a music filled, rooftop night in Duluth, preceded by bloodies in Northern Wisconsin.  Our group of five just left the Apostle Islands where we spent the last days paddling, dancing and swimming.  

We celebrated Cornucopia Days with a block-long parade, riddles, beer, wine, and live music at one of two bars in this nothing town.  Music resonated from a group of Beach Boy wanna-be's in the corner of the Tiki Bar while the crowd overflowed out into the sand.

We slept on this sand when our bodies wouldn't hold us up any longer and woke to the soft lapping of Lake Superior at our toes.  Then caught a ferry out to Madeline Island, loaded our kayaks and headed for Oak Island.  About 14 miles, 6 hours, later we made camp on a long sandy expanse around the corner from any light or sign of civilization.  

Parading along the shore, our dreams couldn't possibly outdo the reality of our situation. Primitive and pure, we thrived on the island, barely making our way into the forest from the beach.  Five wide, we curled up next to the fire that night.  Half our bodies lit by the slow breath from the red coals of the fire, our other half dark as the night but for the North Star and its posse in the sky.

I slept the best nights sleep of my life.  The way things are going, I really believe that every moment is going to be better than the last, no matter how good the previous one was.

I have a couple of days here with my folks and then I am leaving for Missoula with Greggy P. I'll be putting other posts up with lots of pictures from the last month of adventures, and there are lots of them!  I'll be putting the posts up in chronological order, so go back and check the blog for posts that you haven't read yet.

Dinner with my Grandparents tonight.  What's that?  It's happy hour?  Well then.  Happy Tuesday.

If I could pick 2 trees...

...to hang a hammock, I would pick these almost every time.  Suspended over water, partially in the shade, anything I might need within reach from the rock just below.  Uh-huh.  That's all I need.

Greg and I folded a tarp and pulled it tight between the two hammocks by sitting on each end in our respective hammocks to form a great table.  He proceeded to whoop me in cribbage.

A day in the life...

Bro and I in the BW

Zeb and I slid our beefy alumacraft canoe into the waters of Sawbill Lake on the last Friday in July.  We had nine days together ahead of us.  It was already late and Tischer stood watching as we loaded the boat with 3 fat Duluth packs.  Even though the sun was still shining bright, the horizon wasn't far below and we pushed off in haste with hopes of finding a site not far from this popular entry point.

The Boundary Waters Canoe Area is a huge motor less Wilderness of waterways in Northern Minnesota.  It connects with the border of Canada and their equal part, the Quetico.  Our mode of transportation was by boat and foot. When we couldn't paddle we loaded the gear on our shoulders and walked to where we could paddle.  

Tischer was responsible for her own saddle pack that I loaded on to her at each portage.  When in the boat she had a personal floatation device strapped around her chest.  Zeb and I alternated at each portage.  One would carry the lightest pack and the canoe, which weighs just over 60 pounds.  The other would carry the other two packs, one of which was the food bag.

The first 5 days of our trip we had for ourselves.  On day 5 we planned to meet my friend Greg and a few others.  We picked a somewhat ambitious route and headed out to the west through what's known as the Lady Chain (of lakes).  To which we curved to the north and eventually back to the east bound for Brule Lake lying to the Northeast of our starting point at Sawbill Lake.

The wind was slight only a couple of days but the sun was strong every day.  The only rain or hint of storms was either at night or during one early morning, and that just meant we got to let our weary bodies sleep a bit longer.  Mosquito's dominated the trails, especially the swampy and muddy ones.  Every night we planned for the arrival of them starting at half past 8.  By 9PM we could hear the super highway, at least that's how we described the sound of their mass.  Starring at them through the screen from within the tent was unnerving and it took a while to get used to hearing them buzz your ears, even though the thin mesh was between us and them.

We labored hard each day, trying to cover the ground necessary in order to arrive on schedule.  We filled up at lunch and dinner and sipped Jameson in between.  We were exhausted often, but the sights and feeling of

 being out there, way out there, gratified our efforts.  We had a blast and saw very few people.

In all, we travelled over 40 different lakes and rivers during those days.  Our portaging distance was over 3,600 rods, a measurement unique to the BWCA.  One rod is 16.5 feet, or roughly the distance of one canoe.  That means the number of rods we covered is equivalent to over 11 miles. 

 

I think Zeb would agree that some of the best moments of our trip was every lunch when we stopped to soak and swim.  It felt so so good!  

Some of the others that come to mind include the sunset on Dent Lake, walking up on a Moose and her young at the end of a portage, the HUGE snapper we saw sunning itself on a rock, the pre-mosquito campfires, bannock pizzas, paddling across a still lake under a 

heavy downpour, and just feeling the boat move under the control and direction of our own efforts, from our soaring spirit and through our soft bent shaft wood paddles.

Fun is Discouraged

This is what happens to a crowd when a representative is sent to the General Admission section to inform you that the stadium is in fact a "No Wave" stadium. Seriously.

Tuesday night Zeb (my brother) and I joined Britta, Laura, and Joe at the St. Paul Saints All-Star game. We paid our five hard-earned dollars to saddle up in GA with fellow baseball enthusiasts. About halfway through the game we started to try to incite the wave from our far out section back to the grandstand. After a few attempts we were close and excitement was growing. That's when she appeared.

A stadium attendant showed up in front of us telling us we needed to cease our wave efforts. Various flagrant responses rained out from us in the stands. Because "we are a no-wave stadium," she stated. More flagrant and harsh words greeted her declaration, obviously unaware that this was a family game. 20 oz Summits couldn't have helped at this point.

She offered to go and get "Superfan" to come and lead us in some cheers. When a few brave souls tried testing her she didn't hesitate to let us know she has the authority to kick us right on out of the game. After she finally departed, an officer of the St. Paul Police Department joined us for the remainder of the game.

Regardless of this bull-crap restriction, the game was a great time. A sweet fire works show afterwards rivaled the show from this past 4th of July. Also in attendance was Bill Murray, who owns the Saints. Needless to say I spent more than 45 minutes screaming "Hey Big Ern!" in his direction, referencing his character Ernie McCrackin in the film King Pin. We made it over to the grandstand after the game for the show in the sky and Britta actually made hand contact with him for nearly 30 seconds while hanging over the dugout railing. She passed along a few "What about Bob" lines to which he appeared to enjoy. Then she told him which bar we were heading to afterwards. Bill's reply: "I'll see what I can do."

We drank more Summit. Shot some stick. Despite our high hopes, he never showed.

The Rope Swing

At about 4 miles from Stillwater, we paddled under a high train bridge.  Old and impressive it stretched across the river well above the surface of the water.  As we came under it Britta and I watched as a young guy swung out on a rope swing from the west shore.  The swing brought him up to between 30 and 40 feet above the water!  He hit and looked to us-no doubt he and his two buddies on shore had been timing this jump for when we floated by.

One of the dudes setting the example

(Look at that height...)

He threw out the invite to give it a whirl, but I said little while taking a few pictures.  We drifted past as the temptation grew inside.  I could not pass this bridge without trying it.  We pulled the canoe on shore and Britta, Tischer and I jumped out, camera in hand.  

The launching pad for this swing was from the V-joint, the bottom support of the bridge where it attaches to the ground cement pillars.  It looks more daunting from where I'm sitting than anywhere else, mostly because if the rope breaks or you let go during the first 2 seconds of flight, there is a lot of rock and ground to drag across.

Not me (above)

This is me about to hit the river.  Despite my form I actually hit the water well, losing no earrings and barely getting any water up my nose.  If you wait for the swing momentum to peak, just before the swing stops and starts to go back, to let go it is easier to control your bodies momentum, and you are the highest from the water.  I would compare this to some of the higher cliff jumps I have done.

It was so sweet that I had to hit it one more time.  The difference between this and a cliff jump though is that if you let go while still in motion, either forward or back, then your body is being propelled (not always a bad thing).  On my second jump I let go while still moving up and ended up landing in the middle of the river, at least according to my friends on shore.  Right on.

St. Croix Day Paddle

Today was fantastic!  Today was beautiful and relaxing.  Today was delicious.  Today my friend Britta and I, along with T, canoed the St. Croix River bordering Minnesota and Wisconsin.  We hit the water just before the lone bell with a couple of small coolers filled with sandwiches, 4 beers, water and chocolate. 

The expanse of the river is so amazing.  It can be really shallow and really deep.  It is so green and the banks are full of vegetation, including tall pines.  We paddled from just north of Copas down to the Boom Site near Stillwater, a distance of nearly 14 miles.  Over the 6 hours of paddling that it took us to complete the length, we swam on sandbars, waded with the canoe in one hand and beer in the other, and tested out a rope swing of grandeur I have not seen before (see post-it deserves its own!).

We stopped once to enjoy a Summit IPA early on under the hot blanket of sunshine.  Later, only a few miles from the take-out we reclined on the ends of the canoe, feet up, to enjoy our second beer of the day.  I have always enjoyed Summit yet today it refreshed me like no other, lips on down.  It could have been the heat, it could have been the surroundings, and it could have just been the extremely well crafted beer.  It felt like more on this day.

Hot days are meant to be spent on the water.  Swimming when you get even the slightest bit warm, conversing when the thought drifts through, and maneuvering a human-powered craft throughout a maze of islands, sunken logs, and sandbars.  

Thanks B-town for a sweet adventure!  What's next?

Go lightly on the ground

I am listening to Bob Dylan right now.  Just arrived back in the twin cities again after some time up the shore on my own watch this time. Swimming at Park Point on Monday, Tischer and I ran into Billy and Emily, friends from old Duluth.  I consider it "old Duluth" because after spending some time there now, it really feels like an era has ended.  I don't say that with bitterness or sadness, just in reality.

I had an amazing night's sleep that night on front porch of Greg and Erin's place, amidst the humidity and lights of Duluth and, starting after midnight, a show of lightning and thunder.  Ahh, Minnesota porch sleeping indeed is worthy of its own post and writing.  Hopefully I'll get there.

Tuesday Little T and I headed up the shore towards Lutsen.  I unleashed her at the lower falls of the Temperance River and dove into the water beside her.  She needed a little tug of the collar halfway but I lead her out through the mouth of the river into Lake Superior under the watchful eye of curious tourists slumped in metal lawn chairs with wide brimmed hats.  "She thinks your crazy!" one proclaimed as we emerged from the deep brownish water just as the current meets the waves of The Lake.  The seem where these different waters met was friendly and I smiled at their suggestion of her thoughts, doubting it entirely because I know so much more.  We walked the campground and returned to the mouth where we both slipped back into the waters without hesitation.

That night I met up with Virginia at her home on shore.  She is a second mother to me.  We drank beer on the front deck, talked and laughed.  I spent that night in the small fishing shack down by the water, sitting on the rocks and reading all night long.  I wrote my next column for the Mountain Times during my time there, and I'll post it here when I am finished.  

I returned to Duluth and the new home of great friends Billy D and Sarah on Thursday.  They fed me and we started the night out down at the Brewhouse alongside Charlie Parr and his guitar.  From there we attempted to gain entrance to a Trampled show at Pizza Luce but ended up at the Twins Bar not far from a house I once resided in.  Juliet and I danced to the live music and drank silos until 2AM or so and wound up on the roof of her apartment talking and feeling the downtown Duluth night.  She brought me back to the Red Ranger and T-bone early the next morning.  

Now I am here in the TC for the weekend.  As I have promised, look for pictures and more detailed postings of my stellar time here.  It will come, it will come.  First I must play (and perhaps never stop).  

Happy Friday!

I made it to MN!

Alright, so I am back in the Land of 10,000 Lakes.  I actually arrived at my parents house in White Bear Lake on the 4th of July and then I left after only 2 nights bound for the Boundary Waters Canoe Area on a trip with Greg and 5 boys from Florida.  I just got back from that trip on Sunday and since almost all of my pictures are on his computer, I am only able to add these 3 photos.  

This shot is of where we brought the kids climbing on the last day of the trip.  The rock is called Woopie Wall and is located in Duluth, MN.  

And this shot shows of my my fresh new blue carpet, free of T-poop, blood, egg, dirt, and fish guts.  Double padded for extra comfort and with an accessible ground rug, I welcome it.  As Greg said, it was the easiest re-carpeting of someones home that he has ever done.  Quick and easy, I agree.  Tischer approved.  A special thanks to Chuck for donating it.

Finally, this shot.  I have spent a couple different afternoons out on the lake with my brothers and Zack's "little toy."  Going fast on this thing is too easy but a darn good time.  Greg got tossed from it at about 50 mph's yesterday.  Zack is giving it the gas and I'm bull riding in the back.  

I intend to put up a handful of new posts once I get the pictures in my possession.  Look for them in the next couple of days.  As for the next 2 weeks, a couple of day paddle trips and lots of time in Duluth.  As of last night I lost my cell phone.  Out.

Black Sands Spring

Standing on the sunset side of West Yellowstone at a natural spring. A few good memories from this spot.

Leaving for West

West Yellowstone that is. This actually means that I'm heading further east. Today I left Missoula, a night after another softball game with Harry Carey's All-Stars and Charlie B's company. I swerved off of the freeway as soon possible looking for the back roads and a slower pace. I managed to find high winds and a sweet thunderous storm the likes I haven't seen in while. In all my time over the last two years that I have spent in Oregon, I have heard thunder only twice.

After a four and half hours of driving, Tischer and I stopped on the north shore of Hebgen Lake. The lake is formed by a dam on the Madison River, which I drove next to for miles while coming through the valleys from Ennis, MT. We swam and stretched our legs. West was only another 20 minutes or so and I was feeling my excitement to see more good friends Josh and Jamie.

Camping in the 'Root

Because the rivers are high, and in some cases dangerous right now, I was overruled in my desire to spend the weekend floating the Bitterroot River. Instead, and with hesitation at first, I agreed with the boys to head south of Missoula and camp. Thus, we found ourselves at Como Lake near Darby, MT.

A man-made lake underneath snow covered peaks, the lake is an impressive size with dark green stretching from the blue sky all the way down to the shoreline. Because bodies of water like this are not common here in Montana, on any given weekend (like the one while we were here) you find motorized boats galore. I couldn't help but accept this as a little foreshadowing to my arrival back in Minnesota.

Aside from the beautiful setting and deep blue waters of Como Lake, the area around the campground also appears to be hotbed for bouldering. Add the mountain bike trail that wraps around the lake and a weekend here holds a lot of promise. While I didn't get on any rock or bike saddle, I did get plenty of swimming and sun.

Scott, Jim, Ryan, and I lounged all day on the shore, jumping off of logs and rocks on the waters edge. Tischer and Minnie (Scott's dog) got all the swimming I might assume they could handle, but I was wrong. First thing the next morning they were back at it. I personally wore a big grin across my face as Tischer displayed her first jumps into the water. This is only her second year of swimming and she seems to have opened up even more this time around. Finally begging for me to throw a stick out into the water and now leaping from shore. I love her energy!

The surprise of the weekend came on Saturday night when my friends Jeremy, Kim, and Andy happened to be creeping through the campground looking for a site. Jeremy and Kim both work down in Idaho for the Forest Service and have been letting me stay at their house in Missoula while they are gone. This being their weekend, they crossed paths with Andy at the Bitterroot Brewery in Hamilton and decided to camp in the area. As coincidence would have it, it brought our paths together as well. They joined us for a night that included a long campfire session and brilliant stars above.

Being the last to bed, I stood next to the dying fire and tried to get lost in the night sky above. The air was still and with no light to ruin my eyesight, I was able to enjoy the stunning window in the canopy above. Later I brought both T and Minnie into my tent for the night where we all chased down some well earned zzz's.

This is normal

A familiar scene if you hang around me long enough. Or more accurately, if you let ME hang around you long enough. My good and generous friend Ryan's place. A couch that T and I know well from last summer too. Perhaps one day I'll be able to offer a couch to someone and pass on the favor.

Game on!

On this fine hump day we biked Pattee Canyon. We did this ride once before, although by a slightly different route and loved it. This year Brian, Janet, Scott and I biked the front side of Sentinal around into the canyon, mostly double and single track. We eventually hooked up with the paved road that leads up to the Folf course. Last time we biked this road the entire way from town.

This year's route was tough in that the climbing was steeper, but it also had more variables. Whereas the paved road is more gradual but long with little change. Pros and Cons for both. The back side of Pattee is a long and fast down hill on a gravel road. I would estimate we hit speeds between 30 and 40mph on the descent. Then we followed the Kim Williams trail back into Missoula. This trail runs along the Clark Fork River all the way through town. It put us right back at the Parks and Rec, where we had departed together 3 hours before.

While I don't have any pictures from the ride, I do have some stellar shots from later in the night. After biking, we all headed over to Bayern Brewing for some good German beer and life size chess on the back patio. After which, a crew of us now including Cassy and Ryan enjoyed burgers and a pitcher at the Missoula Club downtown. Then, we rendezvoused with more friends at Lake Missoula Cellars, a winery on the western end of town for a wine release party.

A good friend of ours gave us all personal tours and our own glasses for a generous sample session of all the wine they have to offer. Really good wine, this place hopefully will see the business it deserves. Hopefully I'll get to catch Tom Catmull playing there sometime again. Lucky for me they had his music on the speakers when we arrived. Quite a moment.

Not wanting to go home, we then met at Ryan's house. This is where things got crazy fun. From roughly 11PM until well after 1AM, we played 2 on 2 street hockey out front. Using tires on our trucks as goals, Cassy and I took on Scott and Ryan with Tischer offering the occasional offensive help. What can I say? Total domination by Cassy and I, regardless of how skilled these two cats look in the picture. Only one car came the whole time, and all they did was take one of our balls that had made its way down the block. I don't even remember calling "game off!"

Mounting (formerly) Squaw Peak

One of the peaks around Missoula that I had on my list to summit while in town was Squaw Peak. While it no longer goes by that name, it is still known mostly by that name. Sitting on the western horizon as one of the tallest points seen from the Missoula valley, it looks like the tip of a Hershey Kiss, coming to a perfect point.

Tischer and I tackled this hike today under amazing skies. We had to drive over 10 miles of Forest Service roads to get to the trail head, in the middle of no where. First I swung in to talk to a ranger at the Historic Nine Mile Ranger Station about conditions. In fact, there had been a small group the day before that had headed up.

T and I finally arrived at the trail around 11:30AM and departed the truck at noon. The trail started to climb pretty quick, and within 10 minutes we were wading through a small creek of runoff flowing down the trail. To Tischer's delight she got to drink and splash while I huffed a little. As I expected we eventually hit snow and because this trail isn't marked with blazes, when I couldn't tell where the trail was going through the trees I did my best to follow the foot prints left from the previous days hikers. However, everything is melting really quickly and in less the 24 hours, some of the tracks were already gone.

I got lost no less than 3 times, and each time I eventually backtracked in my own footprints until I was back at a spot where I knew the trail was. A little determination and luck finally got me to the fringe of tree line where I traversed the bottom edge of the loose rock that comprises the peak. The trail doesn't actually head up to the summit, so Tischer and I scrambled the last 30 minutes up the scree.

We spent about 25 minutes on the summit. Took some pictures and absorbed the view. I only needed to add a thin layer to fight the slight breeze blowing. The north side of Squaw was still covered in snow and damn if I didn't dream of skiing it. In the shadows, it looked good.

5 hours after leaving the truck we strolled back where Tischer finally decided she was hungry and ate her lunch. Planning ahead, I had half a growler waiting in the cooler for me. Along with some peanut M&Ms and salt and vinegar chips, a refreshing a delicious post hike meal.


I got back to town in time to meet Brian and Janet for dinner at Charlie B's and a few more beers. Good times. Good times indeed.

Cruising Lolo Pass

Today I headed up Highway 12 to Lolo Pass and beyond. I visited with a friend who works at the Visitors Center on the Pass and then went in search of hotsprings. Unfortunately the two locations I was hoping to soak were packed with folks. A scene that I wasn't digging on so instead I brought Tischer down to the Lochsa River, which the highway follows, to play. I waded and she swam. The day was beautiful and warm. A little more driving than I would have prefered but worth it.

I actually took a nap in a pullout just after crossing back into Montana. When we got back to the highway 93 crossing I found the motivation to strap on my inline skates. There is a paved trail that I am used to riding. It is rarely interupted and smooth, and with the Northshore Inline Marathon only a couple of months away, a skate here and there is probably a good idea. I can see and hear the giggling from those of you who know who you are.

It took me 20 minutes to do a little under 7 miles one way, but on the way back I hit a wall. Plus, I had a head wind and a slight uphill climb nearly the whole way. It took me 40 minutes to get back. An hour skate over all. It was one of the toughest outings I've had, perhaps I was still taxed from the relay.

Tischer and I walked in the South Hills for a time in the evening and I met some folks for a tall beer afterwards. Very little is so refreshing.