Travel: Labor Day

Deception Pass

Whidbey Island, WA

I don't like to brag. I really don't. Sometimes to a fault. I find I don't tell people things, perhaps important life things, because I feel like I may be bragging. But I must say, my 2011 Labor Day weekend was better than yours. It just was. That's what happens when you camp at the beautiful Deception Pass on the best weather weekend of the year. But I'm sure you had a nice little weekend as well.

Bellingham: Summer Recipe

North Cove : Lake Whatcom

Bellingham, WA

Summer Recipe:

- From the North Cove (pictured above) paddle board 25 minutes South to Camp Firwood on a clear as could be August evening. Set the temp to 74 degrees. Set the timer to 7:50pm.

- Hang out at camp all evening. Watch Center stage, ET and consume a serving dish sized bowl of Lucky Charms.

- Paddle board 20 minutes North on Lake Whatcom back to the North Cove on a clear as could be, starry filled August night. Set the temp to 64 degrees. Set the time to 12:15am.

Travel: The Hike

Clatsop County, OR

Saddle Mountain State Park

Imagine with me for a moment. Imagine you work in an office building. The tallest office building around. You are considered one of the lucky ones too because your office just so happens to be on the top floor. The very tippy top. Nothing above you. When other people in the building are asked what is above them they always say you are above them. You enjoy this man-made elevated work space. Your office is expansive and is very well decorated. Lots of lush plants and flowers, hardwood flooring, a little babbling brook runs through the center. You have a big oak desk, the CEO's former chair that he gave to you for "A+" work, the freshest and most crisp air around and wonderful art adorning the walls depicting nature at it's photographic best. When it comes to office accommodations, you have almost everything going right for you ... save for one minor (editors note: Major) detail. You have no view. The entire floor is windowless. No matter which way you look in your office, you can't see a darn thing. You know you are on the top floor of a very tall building, but you have no visual proof. The only times you get to see the pristine and seemingly limitless views of the building are when you come to work and when you leave for the day. And in order to see those views you have to take the stairs. You have to climb the whole way just to get a glimpse out of the few windows shedding light into the stairwell. But once you get to the top, where the supposed best views are, you are forced to sit and wonder what it all might look like.

That's what our hike was like. It was fun, a good sweat inducing challenge, it had some nice views on the way and many beautiful plants, trees and wildflowers. Overall, it was a worthwhile and enjoyable dash up a steep and tall mountain. But hanging over the top of said mountain, where the supposed 360 degree view was, lived a floating visible mass of condensed water vapor. Yes, a cloud. A cloud that limited our summit view to nothing. I could have stayed at home, put my head in a white bag and seen as nice a view as I did from the peak of Saddle Mountain. But I wouldn't have lost any calories. Oh those calories.

Travel: The Beach

Gearhart, OR

The Battlefield

It was on this beach that some of the worlds fiercest plastic army men battles took place. Pitting green vs gray, for hours on end my Father and I would engage in military combat WWII style deep in the dunes and beach grass of the Gearhart coast. Obviously I was always the diminutive green men, aka, the United States of God Bless America. My dad was relegated to battling with the grays, the hated enemy depicting the Nazi regime. These made for History Channel epic battles consisted of brilliantly strategic set-up, well planned out and executed attack formations and edge of your seat combat. We took our time mapping out our war plans then took turns sending imaginary volleys back and forth red rover style. Plastic men went flying. Sand exploded everywhere. Grenades broke gaps within the flanks of kneeling riflemen. Kamikaze tanks rumbled across open terrain taking no prisoners. Brave men crawled there way into enemy territory. Machine gun totting jeeps burst into action from their well camouflaged sand holes. We dueled back and forth until the gray army was no more. There were two reasons the green men always won. #1: USA. #2: I had well over twice as many green men as I did gray. Even though he was the wiser strategist and more knowledgeable general, my Dad unfortunately always took to the battlefield at a sever disadvantage. And as any good 7 year old military strategist would do, I exploited that disadvantage. For it was on this beautiful Gearhart beach that my dad taught me how to valiantly hold my own as a green army-men war reenactment commander.

...

He also taught me how to dig a hole in the sand and happily pee in public.

Travel: The Trail

Gearhart, OR

The Arduous Journey

The Beach cabin we stay in at the Oregon Coast is "on the Beach". Not California "on the beach" where you can literally throw your pet rock from the porch and have it land 20ft deep in the ocean. No, Gearhart, Oregon "on the Beach" means about 1/4th of a mile lies between the house and the soft, white-ish sands and the salty, freezing waters of the Pacific Ocean. In between the glories of the ocean beaches and comfort of the cabin exists a vast expanse of overgrown beach grass, sand, a few trees and more overgrown beach grass. Little trails carved out by the flip-flop toting feet of excited beach goers pervade through the great grassy expanse connecting civilization to the front porch of Western America. As a little child this distance was frighteningly long. As a spastic teen it was annoyingly inconvenient. Now, it's just part of the overall splendid experience.

Seattle: $3.50

There exists this profound little story about how sometimes we don't always get our way in life. It centers around our protagonist, me, not getting to stay home from school due to sickness because the antagonist, my mother, out-smarted me and called my bluff. In other words, I got parented. She somehow knew I wasn't indeed sick. But instead of just calling me out for being a snotty little faking lier and a disappointment to the family, she plainly noted how if I was too sick for school I was also too sick to attend my schools annual 50's dance that evening. Mom subtly went all in and all i could do was fold. If I had my way, I would have been able to skip out on school and still attend the dance that night with my friends. Instead, I got to go to the dance but also had to endure a day of public education. Moral: sometimes we don't always get our way in life.

This brings me to the picture above. You can see it depicts somewhat of a sunset off in the distance with the majestic 520 bridge featured prominently vanishing out over Lake Washington. I was hoping the sunset would explode and cover the sky in vivid, bright colors. It tried, but in the end failed to live up to my hopes and dreams. It was descent, but it wasn't what I wanted. Good thing I learned as a young child that we don't always get our way in life.

Bellingham: Firwood Staff Break

Firwood Staff Break Cruise

Bellingham Bay

If I had hoped to provide you with a photo journal of what a Firwood staff break boat cruise looks like, I wouldn't have chosen these photos. Based on this series, you really have no better idea of what happened on the cruise than I do of what happens to old Disneyland character costumes when they are no longer needed for use at the theme parks. In fact, only one of the frames contains an actual 2011 Firwood staff member. The problem was, I didn't take a lot of photos and thus don't have an accurate digital storybook of the comings and goings of the staff as they enjoyed a beautiful evening aboard Bellingham's finest whale watching adventure vessel. These photos above were just some of the random shots I ended up with at days end. You see, for 90% of the trip my Cannon was set to HD video mode. I shot video. I don't usually shoot video. It was a mostly brand new experience for me. And one day, perhaps one day soon, the collection of these moving picture files I helped create will be systematically bound together under the guidance and direction of musical composition to form a 3 to 4 minute long telling of a wonderful story called the Staff Break Cruise.

'Merica

Memorial Park

Bellingham, WA

Today we celebrate 4th of July Guy. Sporting wrangler jean shorts, a cutoff No Fear t-shirt and a well worn coors light mesh backed trucker hat, 4th of July guy is intoxicatingly excited for his single most favorite of holidays. For it is on this day, the day of independence from the tyrannical reign of the British empire, that 4th of July guy can openly and emphatically celebrate freedom, George W Bush, Texas sized double bacon steak burgers, big box retail stores, Nascar, payday loans and the right to bear arms all on the same day. And he can do so with a bucket full of well crafted mortar shells imported straight from the land of our forefathers, China. After last years unfortunate homemade tennis ball bomb incident, 4th of July Guy is left with only 7 fingers and no hearing in his right ear, but he won't let that little misshape get in the way of going all out for Backyard 4th-a-palooza 2011. While Mrs 4th is cutting the watermelon, seasoning the beef and putting the 24 pack of silver bullets on ice, 4th of July guy is out back with his trusty mut Rusty cleaning, priming and loading his Winchester Model 24 pump action shotgun, used of course to commence the annual fireworks spectacle. And while 4th offspring are in the yard lighting sparklers and throwing TNT poppits at each others feat, 4th of July Guy is creating a red, white, & blue themed playlist to really set the mood. 4th of July Guy loves his country, loves his family and loves his Ford 150. Today is his day, God Bless 4th of July Guy.

Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing

June 25th, 2011

Disc Golf - Vanderyacht Park: Ferndale, WA

Croquet - Hovander Homestead: Ferndale, WA

Boche Ball - Zuanich Park: Bellingham, WA

Random: Chainlink

Bellingham, Washington

Near the Freeway

I'm going to a Mariners game today. The weather is clear and sunny, 80+ degrees. Also, the ticket is free. Today is a good day. Today is a day that should happen more often than it doesn't happen.

Sunset: Jonny Sunami

Lake Whatcom: North Shore

Bellingham, Wa

Camp of Champions

Whistler, BC

Whistler Village

To be honest, I don't know what the Camp of Champions is and or was. All I know is youngsters rode bikes off jumps and landed on an oversized, pillowy soft, inflatable mattress. Quite frankly, all it did was remind me of the great elephant in my own personal Whistler room. That elephant being the figurative representation of the great torn ACL of the winter of 2005, the last time, prior to this past weekend, I had set foot on Whistlers fine Canadian soil. You see, it was 6 years ago that I traveled north with friends for a post Christmas weekend of skiing on the world famous Whistler/Blackcomb Mountains. It was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be safe. It was neither. Except for the fun part. It was mostly fun. But safe? Sadly no. And I only have myself to blame. I hadn't been skiing in at least 4 years. Yet when my compatriots decided it was time to hit the black diamond rated Whistler Bowl, I dutifully followed along. Worst decision of my life. Within 10 seconds of embarking down the run, my ski got stuck in thick powder. When my upper body turned to make a cut, my right knee acted like a whiny 5 year old who didn't get his way and decided not to follow. I heard, felt and fully experienced the ensuing pop from deep within the nether region of my right knee. End of my day on the slopes. On the bright side, it was only my first run so I made sure to get next to no value out of the ski pass I had purchased not even a half hour earlier. Long story short, I somehow skied/hobbled/fell/crumbled down the mountain, hit up the hospital, was told to get lost since my insurance didn't cover in Canada and waited out the rest of the afternoon until my friends were done enjoying the beautifully overcast day. Two and a half years later I was surgically repaired by the great Dr. Thorp, endured weeks of physical rehabilitation and now sit here as healthy and strong as ever. So this past weekend, when I was given another chance to face the nonexistent and completely made up emotional and physical scars that were Whistler/Blackcomb, I accepted the invitation. Consider those demons exercised.

Whistler/Blackcomb

Whistler B.C.

Canada

Whistler is like your really good friend who you had a lot of fun with growing up. You threw snowballs at unsuspecting cars, egged the houses of ex-girlfriends, drank a gallon of milk just to see if it was possible. You jumped in the near freezing lake in mid-December, bombed the local streets on longboards and killed entire nights battling it out on the MarioKart racetrack. You and Whistler did everything together, everything you could possible do without having any money. Eventually you both grew up and did your own things, but stayed fairly good friends. You got a job as a sales manager at the local brewery. Good job, descent money. Whistler on the other hand struck it rich. He started his own solar energy company then sold it off for big money. He then started a 100% compostable shoe company and sold that off for even more money. On top of that, Whistler started a software company that created 6 of the current top 10 best selling games on the Apple app store. Naturally, he sold that off as well for unspeakable amounts of greenbacks. Whistler now owns cars you never knew existed, smokes the finest tobacco rolled in hundred doller bills and wears polar bear fur lined silk underwear. He only eats at restaurants that don't print prices, hires workout trainers who cater to Hollywood stars and considers a $400 bottle of 1992 White Meritage whine to be low class. Even with all this new found money though, you can honestly look your mother in the eye and say Whistler hasn't changed where it matters. He finds time to hang out, shares all his sweet toys with you and will still be seen late at night racing as Mario on the Starcup circuit with an empty carton of extra large eggs sitting beside him on the couch.