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.

Racing, Riding, Swimming, Family

It happens every year in the Northwest.  Sometime between May and July, the endless morale-crushing gut-wrenching depressing months of rain give way to a few spectacular months of perfect sunshine.  The entire winter, we console ourselves by saying, "hey, if it's raining down here it's snowing in the mountains!"  We run in the rain.  We ride in the rain.  

After eight or nine months of toughing it out through blizzards and driving rain, we shed the Gore-Tex and frantically try to enjoy the weather before it disappears
NoPoGirl, Hazel and I have spent the past two weeks racing around outside as much as possible.  This past weekend, NoPoGirl squeezed in an open water swim race (above) at Hagg Lake and competed in the OBRA Road Race in Rainier.  I racked up 105 miles on my bike between Saturday and Sunday riding to Rainier and back from Hagg Lake.  I had a lot of thinking to do and as the miles rolled by and my heart raced under a spectacular blue sky, my mind could wander.  
It's funny, when we lived in New Mexico and Colorado, I would wake up and look outside hoping for some clouds to break the monotony of 300+ days of sunshine.  These days we both feel guilty spending just a few minutes inside.
Last weekend we visited NoPoGirl's parents' cabin near Vantage, Washington.  It was hot.  The 1,000 foot tall rolling desert hills were still lush and green.  Hundreds of miles of quiet farm roads fan out across the mountains and valleys in a vast web of perfectly rideable terrain.  We rode, we rock climbed, we hung out with the family.  
It's easy to complain about the weather, but we live in a spectacular place.  And for these few fleeting months, you can find the three of us outside trying to soak up as much of it as we can before it's gone.

And then we may be calling you for advice on getting a one year old baby to ski.

Mothers Day

"We're going to find some sun," NoPoGirl informed me last week when I asked her what she wanted to do for Mothers Day.  "I want to bask in the sun, camp, ride my bike and be with you and Hazel."

Wow, I thought, that's exactly what I want to do too.  So that's how we spent Mothers Day weekend: we loaded up the trailer and sought out sun, camping and warmth in The Dalles.
I've known a lot of great mothers in my life.  Some dedicate their lives to their kids, sacrificing careers and lifestyles.  I admire and respect those decisions.  NoPoGirl, though, is unlike any mother I've ever met.  She's so dedicated to Hazel and I, yet she maintains this energy and enthusiasm for exploring the world and getting into adventures that you just don't see in most people. 
It's been strange watching my wife and partner in adventure morph into a mother.  Obviously, most of parenthood comes naturally.  It's nature.  But each parent puts a certain spin on it.  Some of us try to raise our kids to be like ourselves, others don't.  NoPoGirl is passionate about raising an independent, adventurous, smart little girl.  So far, Hazel is well on her way.
I don't know a lot about parenthood, but I do know that with a mommy like NoPoGirl, Hazel has one heck of a role-model to grow up admiring.  And if she's even half as awed by her bad-assness as I am, she'll think her mommy's the coolest in the world.

Sun, Climbing, Family, Friends

It's been too long since we tied in to a rope and launched up the side of a rock. We've been skiing and bike racing and hiking, but as we learned when our daughter was just a few weeks old, it's a lot harder for two of us to go rock climbing with a baby. We took a break. We dreamed of warm days and sun-baked rock. And finally we couldn't take it anymore.

It's hard to describe what it's like clinging a rock. There aren't many things in life like the airy feeling of a hundred feet of free air dropping away beneath you and nothing but your breathing and the cold, featured rock to occupy your mind.

I've been rock climbing for nearly ten years now and I still get nervous when I'm just a couple of feet above my last piece of protection. Outside noises fade from my ears. My breathing slows and I focus. Then NoPoGirl says something like "stop being such a wuss and just climb" and my concentration shattered, my ego is battered and I finally make the stupid easy move I'd been so timid to try. If it wasn't for my awesome wife's encouraging words, I'd make it up the rock a lot less often.

But things are different now. When I gaze down below me there's a lot more going on at the bottom of the rock. There's a little pink munchkin making funny noises and trying to eat rocks. There are the new friends we've made and take along with us so one of us can climb and one of us can take care of our Future Ropegun daughter.

Someday, hopefully, little Hazel will climb better than Mom and Dad. Mom already climbs better than dad, by the way, but that's nothing new.

Kings and Slush

There are things that you should and shouldn't do while racing along at 25 MPH in a group of 70 guys on bicycles.  You can chat, you can take a swig of water, you can eat.  All of these things are OK as long as you maintain a straight line and do not swerve into the guys wheel that is six inches ahead of yours or the dude who's humming along six inches on either side of you.

Please allow me to add one thing you should NOT do.  Do not unclip your foot from your pedal and attempt to remove your shoe cover while wobbling all over the road while racing along at 25 MPH with a group of 70 guys on bicycles.

Thank you.

For those of you who've been following this blog for a while, you'll remember that I'm not an expert at bike racing.  Last year during the Kings Valley Road Race I got dropped quickly.  Hell, that happens every race.  I'll chalk last year's failure on the hills up to poor fitness and inexperience.  These days I'm just finishing in the back/middle of the pack because I suck.  But I suck less.

This year, I stuck with the group for 56 miles and 2800 feet of climbing until the last 200 meters when they rocked off to the finish line and I did not.  I did not win.  But I did not crash.  And I did not humiliate myself. 

And I was not the wobbly, hairy guy trying to remove his shoe covers in the middle of the peloton.  
Sunday dawned soggy and dreary and NoPoGirl and I loaded up the family for a Sunday of skiing in the slush at The Large Ski Area.  It was slushy and as you can see in the above picture, no-one was there.  There were maybe 100 cars in the lot when we rolled in at 11:30am and we never stood in line all day.
NoPoGirl showed the slush a thing or two until the above pictured Giant Ice Block got the better of her in Roach Bowl.  After a few runs we were both soaked and ready for a drink.  And our favorite ski buddy was waiting for us in The Large Ski Area's very plush daycare.  As always, I'm sure she was wondering what kind of strange life she's been born into.  Get used to it, kid.

Cherry Blossom Stage Race

It was like being in a wild west movie: We were the ones about to die, the cowboys were closing fast behind us, and the heard of horses was skittish.

The dozen or so animals crested the horizon as my team-mate and I struggled around lap two of the first stage of the Cherry Blossom Classic. The 30+ MPH winds whipped the dust away behind them in a reddish brown cloud as they galloped down the barren, green slopes towards us.

(Above) NoPoGirl heads out on the Stage 2 time trial in 31 degree temps Saturday morning.

They raced down to meet us as we sped by on our bicycles, giving everything we had. It was spectacularly beautiful.

For those of you who aren't cycling nerds like me, a stage race is a multi-day series of bicycle races like the European tours that you've heard of.

Friday we raced 40 miles through rolling hills near Petersburg, east of The Dalles.

Saturday (stage 2) we began the day with a time trial, where racers are judged by the amount of time they can complete a set course. It's a show of brute strength and determination.

Saturday afternoon (stage 3) we raced a criterium around a 4 block long course in downtown The Dalles. A criterium is a timed event. The group races a set time (we raced 30 minutes) and whoever crosses the finish line first wins. Criteriums are extremely fast and sometimes dangerous because racers are forced to negotiate sharp turns every four blocks while riding in a large group.

Sunday was the killer: Stage four involves 56 miles of racing with a tall mountain pass (above, near the top of the 1,000+ foot climb) and 4800 feet of elevation gain.

My group's field consisted of about 80 riders. It was fast, hard and relentless. We raced through a brutal wind Friday. The hills were steep, and as soon as we crested them we were blasted in the face by a headwind so strong it negated the gravitational pull of the downhill.

Today, after two days of racing, my legs screamed for mercy as we struggled at race pace for three and a half hours. I burned about 4,000 calories today and I can barely make it up the stairs at home. It was so good to roll through the finish line to see NoPoGirl (who'd just finished racing as well) and Hazel.

Someone told me Friday that, when I'd finished this race, it would be the hardest thing I've ever done. It wasn't. A Half Ironman is more painful and tougher mentally. But my legs have never been more spent.

And I've got another race this weekend.

Piece of Cake? (Piece of Glass)

There's very little in life that feels like hurtling down a country road on a bicycle with 50 guys at your back and nothing but the open road in front of you. Wheels whir, the wind whips past your ears and your heart races as adrenaline pumps through your veins. It feels fantastic.

I was racing lap one of the 55 mile Piece of Cake road race with my team (that's me, above, #1213 with the boys in black) and the front of the pelaton was all black and yellow. Five of us followed the plan and patrolled the front. The race was in Woodland, Washington and attracted cyclists from both Portland and Seattle. The course is flat, windy and fast.

The first lap was fantastic. That's me (above) on the far right at the front of the main field as we zipped through the end of lap one. I felt strong after skiing the day before with NoPoGirl in a foot of powder at The Large Ski Area. I took it easy despite the phenomenal snow conditions and my legs rewarded me with strength and speed.

The race was called Piece of Cake. I was taken out by a tiny piece of glass.

Half-way through lap two, it happened. Again. I found myself drifting back out of the pack. I struggled. My heart rate surged to 197, which is roughly 99% of my max. I caught back up to the field and struggled some more. I ate a gel and downed some water but my legs felt like lead and my heart-rate stayed above 180.

Soon, I was off the back again. What the? The follow car carrying our spare wheels passed me. Then I felt my rear wheel bottom out on its rim. I'd been riding on a flat tire and I didn't know it.

If you're keeping score, that's the second flat I've had in four races this year. I stood beside the road and watched as NoPoGirl raced by with the pack of girls. Finally, someone came by with a wheel and I was able to ride with a few stragglers to the finish line.

Hazel was hanging out back at the car with our babysitter and all of the girls who'd finished their race before us. She enjoyed hanging out in the sun. If she knew any better, she'd probably wonder why she keeps having to come out to bike races if daddy keeps getting flat tires. I know I am.

But for that first fleeting hour when we were on the front, it was worth it.

My team has a racing report up on its web-site.

Sorry

(Above) Marissa and NoPoGirl in the back bowls at Alpental.

I drove past a man playing the drums near Smith and Bybee Lakes just north of my house.  He'd set up his drum set on the side of the road and was rocking out as the sun shot laser-like rays through tentacles of virga hanging down from the spring clouds.

I was driving back from Mount Hood, where I'd spent three days skiing in sometimes violent weather. It was a typical spring weekend in the Northwest as squalls roared past Mount Hood split by the occassional sunbreak. I had Friday off and skied in rain. On Saturday, NoPoGirl and I put Hazel in daycare and skied almost every run at The Large Ski Area.  And on Sunday the alarm went off at 4:45am so that I could work a 12 hour day ski patrolling in 50 MPH winds.

It was a very busy day.  The sun cooked the mountain one minute, winds blasted the mountain the next.  I spent the morning battling the weather and the afternoon hauling patients off the slopes.

I haven't posted to this blog for a while.  It's not that I haven't been doing anything interesting. I've been traveling for work.  We headed to Seattle to visit NoPoGirl's family and skied at Alpental.  I was called in to my real job on my day off.  We spent last weekend perfecting our avalanche rescue skills. We've been busy.

(Above) NoPoGirl searches for a double burial avalanche scenario at Skibowl.

By the time I was in the car and headed back down the mountain to Portland yesterday, my family and reality I had a lot on my mind.  I took the scenic route, driving along the Columbia River to North Portland and watching eagles circle above the whitecaps as brilliant beams of sunlight shot through bands of rain and sleet.

As I raced past Smith and Bybee Lakes trying to get home in time to see Hazel and NoPoGirl, I glimpsed a smile on the face of that drummer rocking out to the sun setting over the West Hills.  I smiled too.  Yeah, life's good.  Busy, but good.