Skating is Commuting

I love street skating but I've never been that good at it. I can't pop big sets of stairs or slide down hand rails, but I find pure enjoyment trying to mimic the nonchalant style of Tom Penny while cruising to class, work, the market or wherever. I was always infatuated by Penny's style because he looks like he was merely skating to some destination rather than the typical try and try again style of the top pros pulling ridiculous maneuvers over big gaps and long rails. 

This is one of my favorite skate parts of all time from Flip Skateboard's first film, Sorry.

I recently came upon this segment of skateboard--now musician--Tommy Guerrero pushing the streets of San Fran and my love for skateboarding has once again been solidified. This is the essence of skateboarding. I can picture Tommy saying, "Ma, I'm gonna run and get some milk... be back soon!"

VoliFoniX @ the Coast

Early this summer, Volifonix climbed the dune with instruments in tow as the explored the shore for the perfect spot to shoot their first music video for their track, Three Good Friends. In their never-ending episode to rock the Coast, they wrapped up a four set show in Yachats--the gem of the Oregon Coast--with a fire and an open invitation to kick it with Ninkasi. 

Here's a slideshow narrated with the help of Volifonix lead singer and guitarist Trevor Forbess about the making of the video:

After passing out at sunrise the vehicles were loaded and the crew skipped north to Cape Kiwanda to shoot at the conception site of the song.

A day on the cape with the VFX crew I didn't mind spendin' time. Tomo spent his time hanging from rock protrusions while Joe went tumbling down the dune.

Afterwards, Elijah stood in dismay as the market's Aloe Vera supply was drained.

Listen to VoliFoniX

Insomnia on Hood

Rory slams his third (but not last) 5-Hour Energy drink as Hardman and I race to change into warmer clothes while we wait for Tommy and Peter to show up in the Timberline parking lot. It's 11:00pm and none of us has slept for sixteen hours and now we're preparing to summit Mt. Hood.

Having conceived the plan just days before, we were now attempting all of our first ascent of the tallest mountain in Oregon sans guide. I've never even ascended a peak over 6,000 feet.

Burning up the terrain park at Timberline, we were en route to the Pearly Gates via the Hogsback. Within the first couple miles we were greeted by cold shoulders at the warming hut courtesy of those forgoing the slow march up the groomed tracks to Palmer Glacier. We would later reconvene with these folks as we waited for them to slowly ascend (and painfully) the final steep push to the summit where we were forced to withstand the putrid sulfuric stench billowing from the fumerol nearby. 

Eventually patience paid off and we ran up the steep slope through the Pearly Gates and traversed the knife edge to the abandoned summit. 

In the screaming wind we found solace as Rory and Pete slugged their summit brews while I tried to swallow my stomach back not capable of thinking about drinking the Longhammer IPA I'd packed up, (It was to be enjoyed with the company of a sandwich the following day.) 

Staving off altitude sickness in a state of insomnia left us stumbling during descent. Unfortunately for us the hard snow kept the convenience of glaciading--or sliding and self-arresting downhill--out of question. The snow was also bumpy, making a shovel ride a painful ferry, aside from the groomed trails, but the skiers weren't stoked about that.

After 26 sleepless hours, the parking lot never seemed to get any closer, but the thought of burritos, Dos Equis and bed kept our feet moving and eventually we found ourselves back in the concrete jungle where Rory downed another 5-Hour Energy. We were dead tired, dehydrated, hungry, and hurting... but most of all, stoked.

Thielsen on a Whim

Sitting stuffing as much food as we can at the local pizza buffet, I find a buddy willing to paddle the Willamette to Corvallis with me so far as I climb Mt. Thielsen with he and some friends. 

Twenty minutes later I'm packing quickly and crammed into the back of Henry's pickup. 

Just north of Crater Lake and brushing east of Mt. Bailey and Diamond Lake, Thielsen stands 9,184' into the sky in a spire fit for a Tim Burton film.

Thielsen, Diamond Lake, Bailey

The scramble to the summit push was sketchy loose scree. It required light feet and a quick pace.

Henry's boots gave him blisters, driving him to hike in sandals. For the last forty vertical feet, however, he was deduced to bare feet.

The traditional summit brew.

Will-a-met-té

Contrary to the common opinion of the Willamette River, the mild paddle along its course is surprisingly serene. Three days culminated into these haiku's and a few exposures. 

late start boat packed

flooded rig too long delay

scrape bottom chow well

two bridges new city

five sheep lay roaming on shore

two burns rest by sunset

corn valley spare time

forty tees pulling soaring saucers

sunny day shade tree

Haiku inspiration stems from the works by Taku Hokoyama in Frank Wolf's "Boreal Summer," featured Fall '08 in Wend magazine. The article peaked an interest in canoeing that has thus far been an eclectic safari. 

The full story is in progress.