"How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?" -- Satchel Paige
Somewhere between building a railing on a 50-stair stairset, hand-firing the propeller on his 1946 seaplane, diving into an ice cold Maine lake every morning, and bringing a clan together from the corners of the country, my grandpa found time to turn 83.
His physical scars point to a life lived, his smile to a life lived well.
Thanks for the motivation, Papa.
After graduating from a city school, and dedicating more and more time to the outdoors, I've been finding it hard to justify getting a gym membership. Don't get me wrong, I want to be fit, but I'm constantly feeling like just being active is my answer to the problem.
Recently I saw this awesome essay in Coast Mountain Culture, and suddenly my internal struggle all made sense. Give this a read—some sharp commentary and an all-too-necessary look back at ourselves.
So when I started posting music every Monday (and/or Tuesday) I said that it was in an effort to give you guys a better picture of what I'm all about.
That being said, I have a confession: I like Justin Bieber. Well, Biebs with a collosal dose of Diplo, that is. This spring Diplo, Skrillex, and Bieber dropped "Where Are U Now", a track that I can't get out of my head or off my playlist. Everyone knows I love my strings and Mad Decent claps, and boy does this bring it.
If this is goodbye, no hard feelings. We certainly had a good run, didn't we?
After a month of classy soccer across Canada, the Women's World Cup wrapped up in Vancouver this past weekend. Since Van City is in my backyard, I powered through the post-Independence Day haze and drove into a very different, fire-induced haze north of the border.
I didn't have a ticket, but soaked up the scene outside B.C. Place as the masses poured in to witness history. A U.S. win would give all-time international goals leader Abby Wambach her first World Cup trophy, while a Japanese victory would signal the first time a women's team has ever repeated as tournament champion.
The atmosphere was different than I expected. Unlike the crazy drunken street fest I'd experienced during last year's Men's Cup, the Women's Cup was cheerful, but surprisingly calm. The crowd was younger, families, and groups of young girls and guys that had grown up with these players and were here to watch soccer, not just look for an excuse to party.
Granted, there was plenty of that as well, and as the match settled in, I found myself at a rowdy bar just across the street. The flurry of goals shocked us as much as our Japanese compadres and I think we were all just a little glad that we were on the right side of the onslaught.
At halftime, I figured I'd try my luck scalping a ticket, banking on a tired scalper looking to dump his last tickets of a very busy tournament. Note to self, scalpers never get tired. Thinking I'd found my man, I negotiated a good price just to get turned away at the gates for having a fake ticket—a nice $30 lesson.
Regardless, the experience in the streets was well worth the price of almost-admission. The electricity around a stadium on game day is inimitable, and in a game that brings the whole world together for 90 minutes, the sense is that much stronger. The U.S. won, and now we have another holiday to celebrate in July. Great job, ladies. Vamos Estados Unidos!
Ah, I tripped up on the ocho! I'm blaming a long weekend of camping and a spontaneous trip up to watch our U.S. Ladies seal the deal in the World Cup Finals in Vancouver as my excuses on this one. Pictures and short recap to come!
As for our song, it's not an underground cut by any means, but that sax! How can you deny that sax?! Thanks to Saint Motel's "My Type", and its ridiculously catchy chorus for getting me up and out the door this week. Here we go, kiddos...
Not to totally shift the conversation, but totally shifting the conversation. It's Monday, it's a music day, and I have to say, I can't stop listening to this song. Call me crazy or just call me Kade, I can't get enough of "Multi-Love" by Unknown Mortal Orchestra.
Two Sundays ago, fathers got an extra helping of bacon from appreciative spawn around the country. I forewent the traditional in favor of spending Father's Day with my pops and Mother Nature in the Mt. St. Helens National Monument on a little out-and-back trail run. It was the first time since moving to the West Coast that I was able to spend either Father's or Mother's Day with the proper party, so I was really happy to get a little face time in the out of doors.
Needless to say, the trail (Boundary Trail to Harry's Ridge Trail) was more than we could have hoped for—360 views of the historic Mt. St. Helens blast zone while cruising along a narrow ridgeline in between wild flowers and three-hundred foot cliff drops. It's one of those experiences that makes you feel big and small all at once, Mother Nature showing off her awe-inspiring beauty amid reminders of her tremendous power. There are a few photos at the bottom, apologies for the gratuitous amounts of dad-running-off-into-the-distance shots.
Before parting ways, Dad and I washed down our run with some burgers and homemade cobbler and I hopped on the highway north feeling lucky and thankful to share something I love with someone I love.
As I floated up off the ground, Mother Nature was busy playing a very different role in a close friend's life. While I was picking my way through scree fields and scenic overlooks, my friend was receiving word that his brother had drowned in a rafting accident in Colorado. The same thing that was busy bringing me joy was also hard at work destroying the rock in my friend's life. Just like me, he had spent his day in the mountains, and just like me, he had moved across the country to get closer to nature and the inspiration it instilled in us both on a daily basis. Yet now that same natural force that has long been our church came crashing down on his head without warning.
So often the healing processes in our daily lives involves nature, but what happens when nature is the root cause of the pain? I don't have an answer this time around, and it sucks. All I want to do now is make sure that my buddy doesn't turn his back on the stuff that has made us tick for so long. I'm not sure how to accomplish that exactly, but I intend on being right next to him when we figure it out.
Hug your loved ones, call your mom back, and tell someone close what they really mean to you. This shit is precious, remember that.
Happy day-after-Solstice compadres! I'm hoping that all of you got an extra long dose of sunshine this weekend. We're officially halfway to winter again, but for now the sunshine will do just fine.
I know track six is not a new one, but it certainly brightened up my Monday, and maybe it'll do the same for you. Yellow Ostrich puts out some quirky cuts, and this gem, "Whale", is no exception. Still, have to love some DIY percussion. All right beezys, let's get after it this week.
Feeling good on number five. Summer breezes are here and so are airy tunes like Pacing by Tep No. Excited to check out more stuff from these guys real, real soon.
Hoping to have a few more posts for you guys this week, but heading up to Vancouver to watch the U.S. take on Nigeria in the Women's World Cup, so we'll just have to see. Let's go ladies!
Whoop, whoop, we onto numero cuatro, people! Sitting in a coffee shop in Cannon Beach, Oregon and fully embracing the mobile workplace today. I just spent an awesome weekend with dad and sister introducing them to the addicting struggle that is surfing. Finishing up computer life in a few and going to flounder a bit on my own.
Before that though, I'm floating on this Theophilus-esque track by Thurz titled, "High Castles". Enjoy, ladies and gents.
This past winter was a busy one—a series of plane tickets, layovers, and adventures all sponsored by the word 'yes'. One of those adventures brought me to Haines, Alaska for a big mountain skiing competition. With weather windows slim, we had many days to explore the natural beauty of the area, and a solid excuse to immerse ourselves in the wilds of that crazy place.
In addition to being surrounded by mountains, luminescent fjords, and the largest bald eagle preserve in the country (think as many bald eagles as seagulls at a beach), we got to hop in a plane with local flyboy Drake—a former race car driver and 20-year pilot in the area—and get up above these geologic giants. Drake is the same pilot that helped fly Jeremy Jones into his many missions in the Chugach Range, so that was a pretty cool little bonus.
I'm assuming part of what made Drake such a great pilot was his open communication with the ground, but I have to say it's a bit unnerving flying in a tiny Cub as the wind treats you like its play thing and having your pilot say, "Whoa, this is a lot sportier than I thought, we probably shouldn't be in here." Regardless, in between clenching the seat in front of me, I managed to get a few decent photos of an area that really couldn't yield a bad photograph.
Ok, enough talky, more showy. I met a lot of great people up in Alaska, competitors and locals alike, but it was the landscapes that really blew me away. Here is a little gallery about what we were working with in Haines, including an opening photo of the view from our motel at sunrise. Hope the skip from black and white to color isn't too jarring, there are just some things that belong in color.
Oh dang, it's Monday! Let's roll into the week on high with a little ditty from upbeat pop-kids Freedom Fry. Go get it people.
“21” was recorded with the help of the audiences we had during the first three nights of our residency at The Echo in LA. The first night they provided the handclaps, the next the group vocals, and for the grand finale they gave us the most stretched out scream we’ve ever heard. If you like what you hear be sure to follow us on Soundcloud and our other sites for new music updates: Facebook: www.facebook.com/freedomfrymusic Twitter: www.twitter.com/freedomfrymusic Instagram: @freedomfrymusic Official Site: www.freedomfrymusic.com Sign up for our mailing list: hyperurl.co/bnr7e8
Already messed this up, but dang was I confused when Tuesday rolled around after the long weekend. Turns out too much fun translates into slacky blogging. That being said, I wasn't going to leave you tuneless, so here's my top track of the week from Panama. It's called How We Feel.
It's been almost three years of tramping around the saturated mountains, rivers, and coastline of the Pacific Northwest and I still feel like I'm on my honeymoon. Everyday I'm outside of the city limits I find something new to pique the interest and point a camera at. I haven't been too on-the-ball with the latter, but hoping to change that this summer.
This Memorial Day Weekend, I finally checked Lake Serene off the growing to-do list. Situated in the Stevens Pass area just below the imposing cliffs of Mt. Index, Lake Serene is breathtakingly gorgeous—that is unless it's covered in fog like it was Monday. Regardless, the hike was awesome, and there's just something so wild and untamed about a misty forest.
Below are a few shots from the excursion. I'm trying to figure out the best way to do a gallery on this page, so let me know what you think.
The next few weeks are going to be dedicated to making this blog a true extension of myself rather than just a random hodgepodge. Expect some consistency here, folks.
Along with writing and snapping a pic or two, music is a big part of that 'self extension', so I figure I might as well start sharing a song every week. To kick things off, I'm all about the Wales track, "Lose My Mind" these days—an echo-ey track that has my mind wandering to empty beach breaks and evergreen highways. I think my mind is officially in summer mode.
Anyways, check in, say hi, and stay awhile.
Pretty excited to start working with Roads and Kingdoms, an awesome online travel magazine with some really unique voices. Heck, they even let me write about bar rabbits and weird drinking stories in Cuba. Can't beat that!
Havana, Cuba 2013
Sometimes it's amazing where "one step in front of the other" will get you.
Yes, this is a shameles plug—but a plug I'm pretty damn proud of. Almost a year ago I jumped in a car with a bunch of urban skiers in Montreal that made its meandered its way to Minneapolis over two weeks. The experience was as exciting as it was exhausting and putting that all on paper was one of the toughest assignments I'd ever tackled.
Fast forward a year, and I finally get to see my first feature in print. It's amazing how all of the struggles that went into the piece fade to background noise when you get the paper into your hand. Feeling pretty thankful right now.
The frequent flyer miles have been racking up, and with them, a distinct lack of attention to this blog. In an attempt to get this ship righted, I’m going to try and put some posts and photos together from a recent trip to Japan with 5 awesome compadres. Here goes.
Looking at a plane ticket across the Pacific Ocean is a daunting task. With prices falling in the two to three months of rent range, the lingering insecurities mounted every refresh of the web page. But we did it, we pulled the trigger, and let the chips fall where they may. Luckily for us, those chips fell into deep, endless pow in one of the most beautiful winter locales on Earth, Hokkaido.
This post won’t dive into details, but I wanted to leave everyone with this image. Of all the beautiful photos we were able to snap in Japan, this one resonated with me as a skier. It’s simple. This kid gets it—full steam ahead and totally immersed in a world of snow, speed, adrenaline, and laughter that so many of us are addicted to six months out of the year. If nothing has ever made you feel this way, I urge you to find the something that does. Welcome aboard the Send Train.
