Why Do You Patrol?

The brilliant sun blasted the untracked snow in the pseudo-backcountry section of The Large Ski Area on Mount Hood today. We were alone, my fellow patrollers and I, with the mountain and the snow and the sun. The canyon dropped away beneath us and soon we were all carving lovely long telemark turns in the buttery, scrumptious sun-baked snow.

Today was one of those rare days where the sun shone in January and we on the Mount Hood Ski Patrol had a chance to take it all in.

If you consider the opportunity cost of ski patrolling, it would be a LOT cheaper for me to just buy a season pass and skip the medical refreshers, lift evacuation training, and morning after painful morning of waking up long before sunrise and heading up to Mount Hood. It's pretty tough to explain why I slave away for a pass while many of my friends just shell out the cash and ski.

Today it felt like I was sweating gallons after I helped patient after patient on this typical, busy winter day. It is really hard work sometimes. It's good, honest physical labor. It is completely different from my former career and I think that's why I liked it initially. But I'm a volunteer and, honestly, if we didn't do it The Large Ski Area would pay someone else to do it. So why put myself through all of this trouble for a "job" that beats the hell out of you?

Because it's a tremendous challenge, every day. You get to know a mountain better than almost anyone else. You understand how it works (and how it doesn't), you spend hours alone laboring in a gorgeous and brutal place, you get to help shape how safe people's experiences are, you get to help people who really need it. There are few feelings like making an injured person feel better and getting them to a safe place.

But there are a lot more selfish reasons too. There's the corduroy in the morning, the fresh tracks in the side-country and the friends you make working as part of a team. There are so many days when I find myself all alone in an amazing place on the mountain witnessing something too beautiful to put into words and I have to just stop and appreciate it. Even on the days when 50 MPH winds rake the mountain and it's a struggle to stay upright, I love being on the patrol. Even on the days when it rains. And I detest rain.

But I'll be honest: it's been harder lately when I know I'm missing hanging out with NoPoGirl and my favorite little girl. I patrol at The Large Ski Area every two weeks, and on those long 13 hour days I miss my family. The three of us hung out on the mountain Saturday and took turns skiing and watching Hazel. In fact, we've done that a lot this year and it's still really fun, even though we rarely get to ski together.

We've dialed back the amount we patrol so that we can spend more time as a family. It's tough for us to both patrol on the same day, so we've taken to sharing a day patrolling at The Smaller Ski Area and that's working well. As much as I love my solo days at The Large Ski Area, I think we're moving towards more of a compromise where we patrol less and just enjoy being outdoors together more.

And I'm OK with that... as long as I still get to put on that red jacket every once in a while and enjoy the rush of being there first, and learning more about that gorgeous mountain.

Finally, Snow

(Above) Sun, snow and Heather Canyon

The following are the most important in my life:

1. My family.
2. My friends.
3. Being outside in the mountains.
4. Snow.
5. Sun.
6. Cycling.

Shocking. Huh? Saturday and Sunday saw NoPoGirl, The Hizz and I getting to enjoy numbers 1-5 on Mount Hood and it was amazing.

Saturday I got to ski in the SUN (picture above, after skiing a chute between Basalts 1 and 2 in Heather Canynon) at The Large Ski Area. The Hizz got to go sledding.

Then on Sunday NoPoGirl and I took turns ski patrolling at SkiBowl and, once again, The Hizz frolicked in the snow.

Oh, and about #6 on that list? Yeah, I'm training for bike racing season... but not as hard as I should be. I'll probably regret that later, but right now it's snowing.

PS: Things that I hate:

1. Rain.
2. Rain.
3. Rain.
4. Driving or biking in the rain.
5. Rain (unless that means it's snowing on Mount Hood)

Thanks, Dr. King

(Above) NoPoGirl makes fresh tracks Monday morning in the rare Oregon sun.

It's Monday night and I can barely walk up the stairs. I feel like I've just raced stage 3 of a mountainous stage race and, in a way, I guess I have. Now that I'm a public employee it seems as if I get every holiday off and I am committed to not taking that fact for granted.

I just spent the past three days skiing at The Large Ski Area and it was beyond fantastic. The weekend went like this:

• Saturday - NoPoGirl and I put Hazel in ski area daycare (thanks Mom and Dad! It was a Christmas present) and ski all day. It was warm and misting but, hey, we were skiing together!
• Sunday - Ski patrol duty at The Large Ski Area. Usually, this means I work my butt off. For some reason Sunday saw me skiing tens of thousands of feet of vertical as I "assesssed snow conditions" and "patrolled." Don't get me wrong, I worked really hard, but things just worked out so that I was able to I ski until my legs literally failed to keep me upright and I collapsed in a worthless, blissful heap.
• Monday - MLK Day. Hazel was in daycare in Portland and NoPoGirl and I hit the mountain again. We were delighted to see SUN and were greeted by fresh powder and a canyon that presented knee-deep virgin, untracked snow. Once again, we skied until we could no longer stand.

I have to be honest: I'm a Colorado snob. When I return to Oregon from a trip to Colorado's high, dry, cold mountains I scoff at Oregon's wetter, deeper snow and cone-shaped mountains. I hate rain with a passion that's difficult for me to put into words. But I love living here and just when I'm getting bitter and jaded about the rain, a day like MLK Day presents itself with blasting sunshine, small crowds and fresh snow.

(Above) The avalanche deposition zone. The debris was 15 feet deep.

We also encountered a sobering sight in a pseudo-backcountry area of the The Large Ski Area. Sunday night a large avalanche tore through the canyon and left a fifteen foot deep deposition zone in a place where dozens of skiers are usually making their way towards a ski lift. Luckily, the slide happened in the middle of the night and was triggered by natural conditions high on the mountain, but it's an alarming reminder of nature's raw power.

It was so cool we skied past it again and again until our legs were jelly and our throats were sore from shouting with joy.

Ah weekends, how I love thee.

Twenty Ten

"Your hamburger is mooing at you," NoPoGirl said.  I bit off another mouthful of my scrumptious burger and as the blood wallowed in my mouth, I asked "doesh thish meem I cud get shick?"

"Probably," she said as she eyed her own rare burger, "how can you keep eating that?"

Well, I thought, because I'm just thrilled to be sitting here at this lonely bar in the middle of Colorado with just you.  Just like the good ol' days.  But I didn't say that.  I just grunted and choked it down with a sip of the Wooly Bugger Nut Brown Ale brewed a few miles away in Grand Lake, Colorado.

We were eating dinner in the last joint that was still open in Granby and it was our first of two nights of child-free bliss frolicking in Colorado's frigid mountains.  NoPoGirl and I rolled into town at 9:00 p.m. after two nights with my parents at a ski-in ski-out condo in Breckenridge and we were stoked for two more days of luscious Colorado powder.  

I love going back to Colorado.  It'll always be home to me.  I went to college there and some of my fondest childhood memories are of exploring Colorado's mountains.  Now that I'm the parent of an Oregon child, it's important to me that she spend time there too and grow up walking the same trails that I did.  So as Hazel gets older, we'll be heading back to Colorado a lot more often.

NoPoGirl, Hazel and I had spent a few days with my folks and, after luxuriating in Breckenridge, it was time for Hazel to spend some time a

lone with her grandparents and time for NoPoGirl and I to have some time alone together.  

As we headed off into the darkness under that brilliant Colorado night sky the phone rang.  It was my dad telling NoPoGirl how Hazel was doing after being with my folks for just a couple of hours.  "George," she said, "we don't want to know. Just be grandparents.  We're on vacation."

And with that we raced off towards fresh powder at Winter Park/Mary Jane, bloody hamburgers and a cheap motel.  It was fantastic.  We skied our asses off and, on New Year's Eve, visited the nearby Hot Sulphur Springs and dined at a romantic little family-run hotel by the headwaters of the Colorado River.  NoPoGirl fell asleep at 10:00 and I woke her up at 11:59:30 so she could count down into the new year.

The skiing was incredible.  It's a pretty incredible feeling chasing your wife down a mountain as the wind roars through your helmet.  We skied until our legs could no longer execute the telemark lunges that we asked of them, and then we packed up the car and headed back to Estes Park.

And as NoPoGirl and I walked back into my parents house and Hazel came running/stumbling towards us I think we both realized that at as much fun as we had together bombing down slopes and living like ski bums for a couple of days, we missed the hell out of our daughter.

This new year we are truly the luckiest people we know.  I really believe it doesn't get any better than this.  

Let It Snow

I promised myself that this blog wouldn't become a Dad Blog.  No-one wants to read a dad blog.  They're all the same.  But I guess all Outdoorsy Guy blogs are the same too and, let's be honest, I've posted so rarely lately that daily readership of this website has dwindled to less than a hundred a day.

The reality is that, in the grand scheme of things, our lives really haven't changed much since we became parents.  Yeah, we're less hard core.  But the only thing that's really different about our lives is that we do the same stuff with a cute little bundle of giggling, pointing, and increasingly opinionated baby.  

This is the time of the year that our lives transition from mud and bikes to mountains and snow.  What does that mean for Hazel?  It means she's gone from sitting in a backpack watching bikes race by to sitting in a ski lodge or hanging out in a backpack while I ski her up the out of bounds terrain at our local ski area. 

It's crazy, NoPoGirl and I are spending less time skiing together on the mountain, but I think we're all closer than ever.  We're on the mountain just as much as we used to be, we just take turns watching The Hizz in the lodge while the other skis.  But we're raising our daughter in the places we love, while we do the things that we love.  And in a few short years, we'll hopefully be racing to catch up with Hazel as she bombs down the mountain.  

I just hope she's having as much fun as we are.

On Patrol

It's Time... See you on the mountain

Our Ski Patrol duties start tomorrow. See you there.

The Barker Family Makes Wend TV

Our friend Heidi Swift is working as a roving reporter for Wend Magazine as they cover Portland's Cyclocross Crusade.  They shot a video of Sunday's race and our whole family makes an appearance at the 2:00 mark.  And if you want to truly capture the essence of cyclocross's sheer insanity and stupidity, watch the whole thing.  Pretty silly.

Mud and Snow

There's something I've always hated about rain.  When I was a TV reporter, I used to have to stand in it for hours.  I'd have to trudge through neighborhoods in the rain while wearing a suit, knocking on the doors of people who didn't want to talk to me.  When it rained, it made standing around at crime scenes and disasters pretty miserable.

So if you hate rain why, you may ask, the hell do you live in Oregon?  I've been trying to answer that question for the six years since we moved here from lovely, sunny (and poor and crime-ridden) New Mexico.

Well, I love Oregon.  Hate the rain, love the mountains.  And I love my new job.  And now that I don't have to stand in the rain all of the time, I think I've found a way to embrace it:  Rain makes mud.  And rain makes snow.  And this time of the year I love both.

Last weekend, NoPoGirl and I (plus about 1,200 other muddy gladiators) attacked a sloppy course at Portland International Raceway for the 7th race of the Cross Crusade series.  It had been raining for a week prior to the race.  It was wicked.  I was horrible.  And I was thrilled.  I finally found a use for rain down here below the snow level.  It makes cyclocross racing WAY more difficult and way more fun.

This is also the glorious season where cycling begins to take a back seat to skiing and NoPoGirl and I start making our weekly pilgrimage to Mount Hood.  The flakes are flying on the mountain and we are stoked!  Last weekend, on the day before the bike race, the whole family trudged up to Government Camp and frolicked in the snow.

You can see pictures of the whole fam damily by clicking here.

Oh, and remember how I mentioned that I love my new job?  Yeah: I got Veteran's Day off.  That's fitting because I used to be in the Air Force and have lots of friends who are veterans.  Thanks for your service, everyone!

NoPoGirl and I celebrated Veteran's Day by dumping the Hizz off at daycare and heading up to the mountain to skin up the Alpine Trail (above) and ski down.  The snow was crappy, but we were outside in the snow.

And as we drove back down into the rain, I smiled.  There will be mud this weekend.  And snow.  I love this place.

So? How's the job?

I've decided not to blog much about my new job.  As you may or may not know, I've left the TV news business and now work as a spokesperson (public information officer/communications officer) for the second-largest fire district in the state of Oregon. Because of my position, it wouldn't be appropriate to say much about what I do.

But it wouldn't be appropriate to not mention it in this space either.  So let me say this: I love my job.  Love it.  

I am fulfilling many childhood fantasies racing around in fire engines and learning the fire business.  I've been attending classes at the fire academy and getting sweaty and dirty.  It is awesome.  I get to wear a uniform and represent a group of men and women who I respect tremendously.  I feel good about what I do.

I have also been working a lot.  I've been on the news a few times at big fires or incidents.  I'm working on our District's social media strategy and have created and maintain a blog. I've been towing a giant trailer to elementary schools teaching kids about fire safety. I can't believe I was the one who was lucky enough to get this job.

So, do I miss TV news?  Yes, I do.  I miss the camaraderie of racing around from disaster to disaster with a photographer.  It was a daily adventure and you never knew where you'd end up.  I miss traveling across the region and seeing amazing things before anyone else.  I miss the kind of story telling I spent 11 years doing.  

But I get to see my wife and baby a lot more.  And, with the exception of my on-call weeks, I know roughly when I'll be home.  

I'm very lucky.

Snow on the Mountain and Suffering in Dairyville

An early season snow was blanketing Mount Hood as NoPoGirl, Hazel and I headed up early on a Saturday morning for ski patrol chairlift evacuation training. This is a yearly ritual for us and it's something ski patrollers have to practice every year in order to be prepared for a broken chair lift. As with all of the activities NoPoGirl and I used to do before we had Hazel, it's a little more complicated these days. But our little kid is tough, and she's game for anything.
Hazel helped point out rocks ("Ra!") and trees ("Ah!") and water bottles ("BOOOOOwl") as NoPoGirl and I took turns helping people who had volunteered to be stuck guests down from the chairlift.  Hazel then promptly passed out in her mom's backpack as I dealt with two TV news crews who had showed up to do feature stories about our patrol.  You can see the stories they did here:

http://www.koinlocal6.com/content/mediacenter/default.aspx?videoId=12504@koin.dayport.com&navCatId=15
I awoke Sunday morning thrilled about the day ahead.  The Cross Crusade began today.  The Crusade is a series of cyclocross races across the region that attract thousands of participants.  It has become a phenomenon.  Like a giant mountain that creates its own weather, The Crusade has taken on a life of its own.  At times, the noise from racers and fans is deafening.  Today's race was at the Alpenrose Dairy near downtown Portland and it was huge.

I survived.  NoPoGirl triumphed.  It turns out that, after saying "cyclocross is stupid" for years, the woman is a stellar cyclocross racer.  Hazel had so much fun that she forgot to take both her morning and afternoon naps.  

Weekends are awesome.  

Fire, Rocks and Friends in the Tieton

Joe saw it first.  "Holy crap!" he said, "the fire's right there."  He was dangling from the side of the cliff on the Dream Wall at Lava Point in the Tieton River Gorge.  

The fire he referenced was the same controlled burn we'd seen driving into the canyon on Friday night and the same fire that we'd asked the USFS firefighters about.  "No problem," they said, "it's no-where near the climbing area."

It turns out that, after a full day of climbing, we'd been scaling a rock cliff directly below where firefighters had set a controlled burn.  The flareup Joe had seen was less than a hundred yards away from us.  

Chalk that up as another first.  We were never in any danger because the relative humidity was high, there was no wind and it was cool.  But it was still strange to clamber to the top of the cliff to find a burned forest.

That burned forest was just one of many highlights of the past weekend, which we spent in the Tieton with our friends Joe and Ky and Drew.  

Hazel was there too.  She played in the dirt.  She tried to eat rocks.  She slept for two nights in our little trailer.  She took naps (above) at the bottom of the rock climbing area.  

NoPoGirl and I are really enjoying sharing rock climbing with all of our friends.  We don't get to climb as hard or as often as we used to, but we're climbing with a lot more people and introducing some people to the sport, and that's pretty cool.

And it's also probably a good idea to make sure Hazel doesn't think that the only thing mommy and daddy do is race bicycles in circles, cuz that'd be silly.

And so it begins

NoPoGirl shot off across the cut hay field at the front of the pack.  "Cyclocross is stupid," she used to say.  "Why would you ever get off your bike and run?  That doesn't sound like fun."
It turns out NoPoGirl was right.  Cyclocross is miserable.  It is a sweaty, dirty, scary, heart-pounding struggle to survive.  Each participant must retreat to his or her own cave of pain and gut it out for an hour and try not to get passed by the sweaty, dirty, scared, heart-pounded racer struggling to survive behind you. 

And it is totally awesome.  And I am SO excited NoPoGirl is hooked.
Cyclocross season started this past weekend with Pain on the Peak.  I raced and, as usual, came in near the middle of the pack.  NoPoGirl was contending for the lead in the beginning.  She finished sweaty, disgusting and happy.  
And this is just the beginning!

Game Over

It all ended on a warm night in an all-out sprint to the line at Portland International Raceway at sunset. The team was stoked. Our fearless leader won the race.

And my legs were trashed.

It's been a long year of serious road racing. Monday night's race was my 32nd of the year. NoPoGirl and I have battled through brutal wind, wet and dangerous roads and a series of ugly and unfortunate crashes by team-mates to come out of road racing season mostly unscathed. Now I need a break.

I've crashed a couple of times this year, but not in a race. And now road racing season is over. Monday night's race was the last in a long summer series that's chiefly responsible for Portland's vibrant road racing scene.

Now there's already a chill in the air, and cyclocross (above) looms larger than life on the horizon. After years of saying "cross is stupid, why would you carry your bike in a race?" I finally convinced NoPoGirl to try cyclocross. She bought a bike and we'll be getting muddy together this fall.

You can also find us rock climbing at Smith and the Tieton and preparing for a winter ski patrolling on Mount Hood. Although it's sad to see summer fade away, I can't wait for the adventure fall brings.

And I already can't wait for next year's road racing season.  Bring it on.

A Weekend on Mount Adams

(Above) The Mazama Glacier cascades down the southeast face of Mount Adams 

You could say parenthood has slowed the Barker family down a little bit.  Sure, we don't spend every weekend rock climbing or backcountry skiing.  It's harder.  But there is one thing we've done a LOT more of now that we have a little 13 month old munchkin to accompany us on our adventures: hiking.  

It's been a busy summer.  NoPoGirl, Hazel and I have been to the Olympic Peninsula, Mount Hood (twice), Mount Rainier, Mount St. Helens and the beach so far.

This weekend, we headed northeast to Mount Adams.  If you haven't spent time near Mount Adams, you're not alone.  The mountain is overshadowed by the likes of Hood, St. Helens and Rainier.  But what Adams lacks in stature it makes up for in elevation (12,000+ feet) and splendor. 

 

(Above) Negotiating the carefully built, castle-like switchbacks on Sleeping Beauty Peak

I've climbed Mount Adams twice, but never taken the time to appreciate the glacier carved valleys and remarkably easy to reach views  that surround it.

A drive from Portland to Mount Adams includes a gorgeous drive up the Columbia River Gorge to Hood River, where you cross the river and head up into the foothills to Trout Lake.  We decided to do the usual Barker camping routine; eschewing the established campground for the fire-ring at the end of a random forest road. 

We selected two baby-friendly hikes: Sleeping Beauty Peak (pictured above, on the summit) and Hell-Roaring Viewpoint.

Sleeping Beauty Peak (which NoPoGirl climbed 9 months pregnant last year) sits perched on the southwest face of Mount Adams and presents an easy 1.5 hour ascent up a steep, rocky trail to a volcanic plug that towers over surrounding valleys.  It commands a stunning view of Mount Adams, Rainier, St Helens, Hood, the Columbia River Gorge and Central Washington's desert.

After a gorgeous night under the stars we awoke early and drove to the Yakama Nation's side of the mountain to hike up from Bird Lake to Hellroaring Viewpoint.

This easy, 5.5 mile hike provides a lot of bang for the buck.  You hike past waterfalls, over dozens of babbling brooks and up, up,  and up to a spectacular view of Mount Adams' Mazama Glacier and a valley 2,000 feet below.  

On the way back to the car we feasted on huckleberries (above) growing on the side of the trail and marveled at the remote mountain that the Northwest seems to have forgotten.  

If you want to see more pictures of Hazel (which is why you really check this blog anyway) look here: http://barkersbaby.blogspot.com

A Weekend on Rainier

The weather forecast was not good.  Cloudy on Saturday.  Partly cloudy on Sunday.  It was 39 degrees at Paradise on Saturday morning.  
NoPoGirl, Hazel and I blew off the weather forecast, packed the car and headed two and a half hours north to Mount Rainier.  We were greeted by thick fog on Saturday.  We drove to 4,000 feet and camped in the clouds.  

Sunday morning, the sun burned off the clouds and, for a few precious hours, we could see the summit.  We raced for Paradise and were well rewarded with incredible flowers, cascading glaciers and a squealing baby.  

Life sans Kid

We were on pitch two of an easy sport route at the Pearly Gates in Icicle Creek Canyon in Central Washington.  The rock was sticky, perfect granite.  

We looked at each other and smiled.  We were alone on a rock and ridiculously happy.

NoPoGirl and I dropped the kid at the in-laws in Seattle and headed to our new Favorite Place: Leavenworth, Washington.  

Yeah, it's a kitschy Bavarian village.  It's full of tourists and tacky. But the canyons and steep mountainsides that rise up just outside of town remind the visitor of the Alps.  

I love being a father.  I do.  But the fact that I've posted so little on this blog lately is a huge reminder of how little free time I've had.  Yeah, NoPoGirl, Hazel and I have been doing lots of cool stuff, but I haven't had time to post on the blog about it.  Personal time has become a lot more hard to come by. 

For roughly 36 hours, NoPoGirl and I were on our own.  We mountain biked.  We got lost on a forgotten mountain road and camped with a spectacular view of the mountains west of Leavenworth. 

(Above) Our campsite 3,000 feet above Leavenworth.

Our biggest problem, though, has been rock climbing.  We have to take a third person with us to watch Hazel while we climb.  If we want to climb several pitches, the third person is stuck on the ground with the baby.  

(Above) NoPoGirl on the creek crossing  from the Pearly Gates in Icicle Canyon.

So, for a day and a half, we were on our own.  It was just like old times.  It was awesome.   It took us half an hour to cross a stream and bush-wack our way out of  a quagmire on the way to the rock.  We were thrilled.  We climbed, we gaped at the mountains, we smiled, we laughed.

But as we clambered down from the crag, we both thought about our little baby.  We couldn't wait to get back to Seattle.  We were so happy, but we missed her.  As much as we both miss the old days when we went on adventures alone, we love our new roles as parents.

Yeah, our adventures are a little softer than they used to be.  But being a father is awesome.  Although I hope Hazel's grandparents don't mind watching The Hizzle every once in a while so we can go on an adventure on our own.  Because that was awesome.

Summer

(Above) Eryn and Noah, with Spirit Lake and Mount St. Helens behind

My dad threatened to friend me on Facebook tonight.  "You haven't updated your blog since March," he said. 

Well, it hasn't been that long.  But it's been too long.  To be perfectly honest, I was so freaked out about my career change and so excited about leaving The Large TV Station to go work for The Large Fire Department that I didn't want to say too much.  I blog about what's on my mind, and that transition has consumed me.

But no more.  The new job is awesome, thank you very much.  Maybe I'll say a fleeting word or two about it on these pages from time to time.  But this blog is about adventure, not work.

Summer has been amazing.  I've been getting off at a decent hour with my new job.  I'm home more often and can spend more time with Hazel and NoPoGirl.  

We've dragged the family on all kinds of adventures. 

The weekend after I quit my job at The Large TV Station we loaded up and headed to Bend for a two day bike race, where I actually finished respectably.

The following weekend, after my first week at The Large Fire Department, the family headed to Mount Saint Helens and camped in the blast zone.  The highlight was a hike up Norway Pass to look at what's left of Spirit Lake.

Last weekend, Nate and Marissa where here and we headed to the beach, where we froze our asses off while Portland baked under 100+ degree heat.

And tonight, as I write this, we've just unpacked from a trip to the Olympic Peninsula.  Hazel is getting lots of tent time.  We camped up some forgotten forest road, climbed most of Mount Eleanor (the poor arthritic dog got tired and we had to turn around before the summit) and went swimming in Lake Cushman.

And now it's 10:30pm and I meant to go to bed at 9:30 so I could wake up at 5am and go to the gym.  I'm lifting weights again and spooling up for rock climbing, cyclocross bike racing and ski patrolling.  Oh, and I'm planning to start running up flights of stairs with fire-hose so I can maybe hang with the firefighters I'm supposed to represent.

It's an exciting time.  So exciting, I just haven't had a lot of time to breath, much less blog.  Sorry, you'll hear more from me in the future.  I promise.  Thanks for coming back to this web-page and checking in on me.

A Big Change

(Above) Live on Canal Street in New Orleans, days after Hurricane Katrina.

You'll notice I haven't posted on this blog in a while. I haven't lost interest in maintaining it, I've just been wrestling with a major life decision. There comes a time in everyone's life when it's time for a change. That time, for me, is now. After more than a decade of working as a television reporter, I'm changing careers. It was a hard decision, but I need to spend more time with my family.

For the past eleven years, I've shown up to work every day ready for anything. I've received an assignment, spent my day scrambling to gather facts, shoot video, and brave the elements. I've scrambled to meet impossible deadlines and almost always nailed them. I absolutely love what I do for a living some days.

In my eleven years on the job, I've done some amazing things:
-I've moved from Boulder to Yakima, Colorado Springs, Albuquerque and Portland.
-I camped for a week with migrant farm workers in Central Washington.
-I traveled alone to war-torn Bosnia to report on the recovery.
-I reported from Columbine High School as shots were still being fired.
-I have driven hundreds of thousands of miles across the West.
-I spent months on the road covering forest fires.
-I've nearly been killed in a sudden forest fire, and helped the Albuquerque mayor's wife put out a wild-fire that threatened her home.
-I've raced around in helicopters, climbed mountains and been chased by criminals.
-I spent a month at Mount Saint Helens as it rumbled/sputtered back to life.
-I've waded through the streets of New Orleans as society crumbled and people lay dead in the streets.

But there are many days when I'm knocking on the door of a family who just lost a child or standing on a wind-swept overpass in the pre-dawn darkness talking about a snow-storm that never came. Those days outnumber the days when I can't believe I'm getting paid to be a TV reporter.


And on most days, I get home late and miss my wife and child. The hours are unpredictable. I frequently cancel plans after work because I was live at 6pm in a place hours away from the TV station.

If I want to progress and move on as a TV news reporter, I need to move to Boston or New York or LA and continue to crawl my way up the ladder while working weekends and holidays. I've been there and done that.

It's not that I don't want to work hard, long hours. I'm just ready for something new. I want a new and different challenge. And I don't want to leave Portland.

So I'm leaving my job at KATU effective next Friday.

I do have a job lined up. I'm thrilled about it. It's a dream job for me. I'll let you know, officially, what I'm doing once I finish my last day at KATU. Stay tuned...

Reflections on the Road

It was an emotional night at PIR Tuesday. Our team rode in silence (above) ahead of the large category 3/4 field for two laps and thought about our friend who was critically injured in a race at PIR the night before.

There's a horrible sound a cyclist makes as he or she hits the pavement. There's the sound of scraping metal, the inevitable curses and groans, the smell of burned rubber. Bones break, carbon shatters, helmets save lives.

I'd like to say I haven't heard or seen it very often, but to be honest I have. Ride PIR very often or attend a criterium and you're bound to see it. As you see the peloton split and watch people hit the deck, you can only hope that the injuries aren't as bad as the mechanism of injury indicates.

I've been racing bicycles for two years. I've been lucky enough to not know anyone who's been seriously injured... until now. Monday night a team-mate and great person went down in a nasty collision at PIR during the final sprint. You can catch the latest on her condition here. NoPoGirl saw most of the incident as she raced near the back of the sprint.

As the two of us layed awake into the morning hours Tuesday talking about the crash, it brought the danger of this sport into clearer focus for us. I know my parents won't like reading this, but sometimes bicycle racing is dangerous. People get hurt. How does that affect me and my committment to bicycle racing? I don't have an answer to that question yet.

But as my team has rallied together to support our fallen friend, it's reminded me that family and friendship are more important than any athletic endeavor. And I'm lucky to have the family and friends that I have.

Rubber side down, everyone.