concretejungle
Adventurer
word!
Adrift in Space
- Thread starter Phoo
- Start date
Phoo
Observer
And now for something completely different!
I originally posted this particular micro-adventure in the Northwest Regional sub-forum, so I'll just leave the link here:
http://forum.expeditionportal.com/threads/171874-Olympus-Rally-May-13-14
I originally posted this particular micro-adventure in the Northwest Regional sub-forum, so I'll just leave the link here:
http://forum.expeditionportal.com/threads/171874-Olympus-Rally-May-13-14
unkamonkey
Explorer
I sent it off to a friend that used to time rally races in CA.
Red Zebra
Adventurer
...whoa. Way cool. I'm in.
Phoo
Observer
Stardate: 2017.7.5
Local Coordinates: 47.048929, -122.893076
Ship's Log:
- -
Oregon Splitfest, Mt. Hood, Oregon:
The perfect way to cap off an amazing splitboarding trip to Canada and Alaska is with more splitboarding.
Sunrise touring up to the face known as “Snow Dome” on Mt. Hood.
I don't recall the exact context, but it was most likely on the subject of pedaling a bicycle through the woods for ill advised distances, perhaps in unfortunate weather. Something of that sort, most likely. Ultra-endurance blahblahblahwhatever... And so, in that context, one of my closer friends suggested that I actually enjoy suffering. But that's ridiculous. What kind of FOOL would enjoy suffering? Such was my immediate, knee jerk response. Thus, I snorted my retort, knowing quite well that various flavors of acute physical discomfort seem to find me on a suspiciously regular basis. Almost as if I seek it out.
It's hot. I'm hungry. Just landed on the edge of Bend, OR. Spacepod is moored at the curb in the first tiny park I roll past. Sweaty, unshaven and shifty-eyed, I sit at a picnic table, savoring my pastrami sandwich, BBQ potato chips and Coca Cola from the local grocery store. Across the driveway, four middle aged women, dressed in polite office attire, politely converse, while politely eating their polite lunches. A battered, white, Ford F150 impolitely lurches up the driveway, pauses at the stop sign, then stalls on takeoff. Easy with that clutch, Eugene. F150 slowly drifts back downhill while its pilot makes repeated, desperate attempts at relight. An audibly geriatric battery gives its best while the starter spins uselessly, failing to engage the flywheel serrations. Clickwhiiiiirrrr. Clickwhiiiiirrrr. This sandwich is amazing...
Maryhill, Washington:
The other Stonehenge. This one is in Maryhill Washington, and is a WWII memorial.
Oregon Coast:
I picked a nice, cold, rainy weekend to explore the Oregon coastline. The beach pictured is where The Goonies was filmed.
In more recent days, however, something peculiar has come upon me. It is this strange concept they call “comfort”. TCD has gone back to his real-grown-up-life, and I have a whole minivan all to myself (I can practically rollerskate in here). I'm usually parked on dry ground. My cozy, cold weather sleeping bag has been relegated to roofbox storage. I know all of the good stealth campsites in the area. I can even tell you where to get a good pizza. I have this place more or less “dialed” (as the kids say). I have become comfortable. Worse yet, I have also become semi-stationary. The Pacific Northwest, Oregon in particular, has been good to me.
Pilot steps out of the derelict beast and opens the hood. Also sweaty, unshaven, clad in greasy jeans and off-white tee shirt, he peers in at the lifeless hear of the beast. I don't think that's going to help, buddy. Reflexive, I guess. Or perhaps he's going to give it some stern words. Copilot steps out and pulls out a phone. Calling in an airstrike presumably. Maybe a tow truck. Glances around a few time. Eyes the guy on the bench eating pastrami. Copilot is dressed in a tank top and a flowy, ankle length, tie-die skirt. A gentle breeze reveals some kind of RF transmitter collar clamped around one ankle. Parole? Who knows. Mind your business. Pastrami sandwich finishes his sandwich, goes back to his van, grabs a five gallon water container and heads for the water fountain, nodding and smiling at polite lunch ladies along the way. Polite lunch ladies are unimpressed and politely avoid eye contact with the scruffy traveler. Do I smell? Perhaps.
North Cascades Splitboard Trip, North Cascades, Washington:
After sitting out for a few weeks, thanks to a foot injury, I jumped on a trip to the North Cascades with Pat and Cory. There isn't much that one can complain about when riding snow in June.
Pat riding it out to the bitter end.
Surveyor's Ridge Ride, Mt. Hood Oregon:
… But eventually, the snow does start to melt in places. Thus, dirt riding season begins in earnest! Taken along the Surveyor's Ridge Loop, a designated IMBA Epic (link).
Comfort and certainty. These are the antithesis and enemies of adventure and exploration. Enduring memories and life experience will never spring forth from the overstuffed cushions of the couch. Thus, at six months in, and slightly past the apogee of this wild ride, it is time to relight the reactor and push onward. The plan: north then east then south then west then east then north. Got that? Me too. Fast and loose for a few more months before braving the searing heat of reentry and jarring splash-down on the other side of the continent. So long for now to Cory, Pat, Jesse, Jay, Jaran, Jessmin, Anna, Saturday blues jam jammers, music festival hippies, glorious snow-capped volcanoes, endless seas of pine, and all of the no-longer-really-ironic mesh trucker caps in Bend. It's been real great, but I gotta roll, man. Uncertainty and discomfort beckon me.
Back in the van, I am checking directions and getting ready to move. Over yonder, across the hill, a man with a backpack materializes, walks across the lawn, greets Tie Die Skirt, and B-lines toward the van. “HI, I'M JOE ! This is Mara (Tie Die Skirt). Do you have a lighter?”
“Uhh... yes, I do, as a matter of fact.”
Joe waits by the open sliding door as I rummage through my gear.
“I'm homeless! I stay at the XYZ (I forget where) center. Why are you homeless?”
Well that's a thought, isn't it... “I quit my job a little while ago, and I'm just traveling for a bit”
(To Mara) “HE SAID HE'S A TRAVELLER!”
(Mara) “Oh, that's a little bit different...”
Joe's cigarette is successfully lit, more friends are gathering (presumably the rest of the airstrike), and it's time for me to go...
4 Peaks Music Festival, Bend Oregon:
There were some funky people,
Funky vehicles,
And tremendous musicians. Sierra Hull on the main stage.
Some, such as Moon Alice, were quite well seasoned. By the way, did you know that it's the 50th anniversary of the Summer of Love?
Others, like Ron Artisse II and the Truth were a bit less “experienced”. To my amusement, several folks later mistook me for Ron. I wish I was that talented at anything, but NOPE! He is not I, and I am not he.
Carl Denson's Tiny Universe was clearly the best dressed.
And the band simply known as Moe, jammed between a blazing desert sunset and a slow-pulsing sea of tie die and nodding heads. You feelin' that groove?
Local Coordinates: 47.048929, -122.893076
Ship's Log:
- -
Well, I wait around the train station
Waitin' for that train
Waitin' for the train, yeah
Take me home, yeah
From this lonesome place
Waitin' for that train
Waitin' for the train, yeah
Take me home, yeah
From this lonesome place
- Jimi Hendrix Experience, Hear My Train a Comin', 1967
Oregon Splitfest, Mt. Hood, Oregon:
The perfect way to cap off an amazing splitboarding trip to Canada and Alaska is with more splitboarding.
Sunrise touring up to the face known as “Snow Dome” on Mt. Hood.
I don't recall the exact context, but it was most likely on the subject of pedaling a bicycle through the woods for ill advised distances, perhaps in unfortunate weather. Something of that sort, most likely. Ultra-endurance blahblahblahwhatever... And so, in that context, one of my closer friends suggested that I actually enjoy suffering. But that's ridiculous. What kind of FOOL would enjoy suffering? Such was my immediate, knee jerk response. Thus, I snorted my retort, knowing quite well that various flavors of acute physical discomfort seem to find me on a suspiciously regular basis. Almost as if I seek it out.
It's hot. I'm hungry. Just landed on the edge of Bend, OR. Spacepod is moored at the curb in the first tiny park I roll past. Sweaty, unshaven and shifty-eyed, I sit at a picnic table, savoring my pastrami sandwich, BBQ potato chips and Coca Cola from the local grocery store. Across the driveway, four middle aged women, dressed in polite office attire, politely converse, while politely eating their polite lunches. A battered, white, Ford F150 impolitely lurches up the driveway, pauses at the stop sign, then stalls on takeoff. Easy with that clutch, Eugene. F150 slowly drifts back downhill while its pilot makes repeated, desperate attempts at relight. An audibly geriatric battery gives its best while the starter spins uselessly, failing to engage the flywheel serrations. Clickwhiiiiirrrr. Clickwhiiiiirrrr. This sandwich is amazing...
Maryhill, Washington:
The other Stonehenge. This one is in Maryhill Washington, and is a WWII memorial.
Oregon Coast:
I picked a nice, cold, rainy weekend to explore the Oregon coastline. The beach pictured is where The Goonies was filmed.
In more recent days, however, something peculiar has come upon me. It is this strange concept they call “comfort”. TCD has gone back to his real-grown-up-life, and I have a whole minivan all to myself (I can practically rollerskate in here). I'm usually parked on dry ground. My cozy, cold weather sleeping bag has been relegated to roofbox storage. I know all of the good stealth campsites in the area. I can even tell you where to get a good pizza. I have this place more or less “dialed” (as the kids say). I have become comfortable. Worse yet, I have also become semi-stationary. The Pacific Northwest, Oregon in particular, has been good to me.
Pilot steps out of the derelict beast and opens the hood. Also sweaty, unshaven, clad in greasy jeans and off-white tee shirt, he peers in at the lifeless hear of the beast. I don't think that's going to help, buddy. Reflexive, I guess. Or perhaps he's going to give it some stern words. Copilot steps out and pulls out a phone. Calling in an airstrike presumably. Maybe a tow truck. Glances around a few time. Eyes the guy on the bench eating pastrami. Copilot is dressed in a tank top and a flowy, ankle length, tie-die skirt. A gentle breeze reveals some kind of RF transmitter collar clamped around one ankle. Parole? Who knows. Mind your business. Pastrami sandwich finishes his sandwich, goes back to his van, grabs a five gallon water container and heads for the water fountain, nodding and smiling at polite lunch ladies along the way. Polite lunch ladies are unimpressed and politely avoid eye contact with the scruffy traveler. Do I smell? Perhaps.
North Cascades Splitboard Trip, North Cascades, Washington:
After sitting out for a few weeks, thanks to a foot injury, I jumped on a trip to the North Cascades with Pat and Cory. There isn't much that one can complain about when riding snow in June.
Pat riding it out to the bitter end.
Surveyor's Ridge Ride, Mt. Hood Oregon:
… But eventually, the snow does start to melt in places. Thus, dirt riding season begins in earnest! Taken along the Surveyor's Ridge Loop, a designated IMBA Epic (link).
Comfort and certainty. These are the antithesis and enemies of adventure and exploration. Enduring memories and life experience will never spring forth from the overstuffed cushions of the couch. Thus, at six months in, and slightly past the apogee of this wild ride, it is time to relight the reactor and push onward. The plan: north then east then south then west then east then north. Got that? Me too. Fast and loose for a few more months before braving the searing heat of reentry and jarring splash-down on the other side of the continent. So long for now to Cory, Pat, Jesse, Jay, Jaran, Jessmin, Anna, Saturday blues jam jammers, music festival hippies, glorious snow-capped volcanoes, endless seas of pine, and all of the no-longer-really-ironic mesh trucker caps in Bend. It's been real great, but I gotta roll, man. Uncertainty and discomfort beckon me.
Back in the van, I am checking directions and getting ready to move. Over yonder, across the hill, a man with a backpack materializes, walks across the lawn, greets Tie Die Skirt, and B-lines toward the van. “HI, I'M JOE ! This is Mara (Tie Die Skirt). Do you have a lighter?”
“Uhh... yes, I do, as a matter of fact.”
Joe waits by the open sliding door as I rummage through my gear.
“I'm homeless! I stay at the XYZ (I forget where) center. Why are you homeless?”
Well that's a thought, isn't it... “I quit my job a little while ago, and I'm just traveling for a bit”
(To Mara) “HE SAID HE'S A TRAVELLER!”
(Mara) “Oh, that's a little bit different...”
Joe's cigarette is successfully lit, more friends are gathering (presumably the rest of the airstrike), and it's time for me to go...
4 Peaks Music Festival, Bend Oregon:
There were some funky people,
Funky vehicles,
And tremendous musicians. Sierra Hull on the main stage.
Some, such as Moon Alice, were quite well seasoned. By the way, did you know that it's the 50th anniversary of the Summer of Love?
Others, like Ron Artisse II and the Truth were a bit less “experienced”. To my amusement, several folks later mistook me for Ron. I wish I was that talented at anything, but NOPE! He is not I, and I am not he.
Carl Denson's Tiny Universe was clearly the best dressed.
And the band simply known as Moe, jammed between a blazing desert sunset and a slow-pulsing sea of tie die and nodding heads. You feelin' that groove?
Last edited:
Phoo
Observer
- Continued -
Crater Lake National Park, Oregon:
Crater Lake is actually the disfigured remains of Mt. Mazama. Much like St. Helens, Mazama is a volcano that blew its top one fine day, several thousand years ago. Don't fall in, eh?
McKenzie River Trail, Sisters Oregon:
For the better part of half a year, I've lived as an unpaid “professional” snowboarder. It's almost time to say goodbye to that gig, sadly. Fortunately, my other career riding dirt (which pays just as well!), is warming up. Taken along the McKenzie River Trail, which some folks claim to be the #1 trail in America.
Mt. Adams Splitboard Trip, Mt. Adams, Washington:
The above are from a big tour with some old and new friends on Mt. Adams. It was a near identical repeat of a trip taken about three years ago. Topping out near 12,000 feet, and descending via the steep, beautiful and seemingly bottomless Southwest Chutes, that trip truly altered my perception of the mountains, and certainly played some part in informing my current adventures.
Gateway Green Urban MTB Park, Portland Oregon:
My last micro-adventure prior to waving a final goodbye to Oregon. The bicycle folk of Portland have rallied together to create a miniature mountain bike park called Gateway Green, nestled in a little green-space bounded by the interchange of two major highways. On a hot, sunny Thursday afternoon, locals whip over the groomed dirt jumps as rush hour traffic roars in the background.
So long PDX!
Yes, Nicole, you are correct. I do enjoy suffering. Just a little.
'Phoo is Listening:
At the 4 Peaks festival, the recent passing of Gregg Allman was an often noted point (appropriately so), and several bands closed their sets with some sort of Allman Brothers Band tribute. Though slightly divergent from my typical listening choices, I've always had some affection for the ABB. Recently, “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” has been sitting near the top of my mental playlist (those songs that get stuck in your head while hiking, running, biking, etc.)
LINK!
Please remember to groove safely at all times, and for goodness sake, use a decent quality set of headphones.
Crater Lake National Park, Oregon:
Crater Lake is actually the disfigured remains of Mt. Mazama. Much like St. Helens, Mazama is a volcano that blew its top one fine day, several thousand years ago. Don't fall in, eh?
McKenzie River Trail, Sisters Oregon:
For the better part of half a year, I've lived as an unpaid “professional” snowboarder. It's almost time to say goodbye to that gig, sadly. Fortunately, my other career riding dirt (which pays just as well!), is warming up. Taken along the McKenzie River Trail, which some folks claim to be the #1 trail in America.
Mt. Adams Splitboard Trip, Mt. Adams, Washington:
The above are from a big tour with some old and new friends on Mt. Adams. It was a near identical repeat of a trip taken about three years ago. Topping out near 12,000 feet, and descending via the steep, beautiful and seemingly bottomless Southwest Chutes, that trip truly altered my perception of the mountains, and certainly played some part in informing my current adventures.
Gateway Green Urban MTB Park, Portland Oregon:
My last micro-adventure prior to waving a final goodbye to Oregon. The bicycle folk of Portland have rallied together to create a miniature mountain bike park called Gateway Green, nestled in a little green-space bounded by the interchange of two major highways. On a hot, sunny Thursday afternoon, locals whip over the groomed dirt jumps as rush hour traffic roars in the background.
So long PDX!
His old guitar swung across his back
His dusty boots is his Cadillac
Flamin' just a blowin' in the wind
Ain't see a bed in so long it's a sin
Now you may call him a tramp
But I know it goes a little deeper than that
He's a highway chile
Walk on brother
Don't let no one stop ya
- Jimi Hendrix Experience, Highway Chile, 1967
His dusty boots is his Cadillac
Flamin' just a blowin' in the wind
Ain't see a bed in so long it's a sin
Now you may call him a tramp
But I know it goes a little deeper than that
He's a highway chile
Walk on brother
Don't let no one stop ya
- Jimi Hendrix Experience, Highway Chile, 1967
Yes, Nicole, you are correct. I do enjoy suffering. Just a little.
'Phoo is Listening:
At the 4 Peaks festival, the recent passing of Gregg Allman was an often noted point (appropriately so), and several bands closed their sets with some sort of Allman Brothers Band tribute. Though slightly divergent from my typical listening choices, I've always had some affection for the ABB. Recently, “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” has been sitting near the top of my mental playlist (those songs that get stuck in your head while hiking, running, biking, etc.)
LINK!
Please remember to groove safely at all times, and for goodness sake, use a decent quality set of headphones.
Last edited:
Phoo
Observer
Glad y'all enjoy my insane ramblings.
With regard to the bus, yes that is ONE of the TWO further buses. The second one to be specific. There was a write-up taped to one of the windows, and I can't recall the exact story, but the ORIGINAL original wasn't really on the road for all that long. This is its replacement, and I believe saw the bulk of the miles accrued by the Pranksters. This iteration was recently restored and is slated for some sort of journey in the near future. Further #1 is sitting in storage somewhere, waiting for similar treatment. Worth taking a close look at if you ever get a chance. The paint job on that beast is beyond words.
With regard to the bus, yes that is ONE of the TWO further buses. The second one to be specific. There was a write-up taped to one of the windows, and I can't recall the exact story, but the ORIGINAL original wasn't really on the road for all that long. This is its replacement, and I believe saw the bulk of the miles accrued by the Pranksters. This iteration was recently restored and is slated for some sort of journey in the near future. Further #1 is sitting in storage somewhere, waiting for similar treatment. Worth taking a close look at if you ever get a chance. The paint job on that beast is beyond words.
concretejungle
Adventurer
isn't that original bus parked somewhere up in death valley from when Charles Manson made it fly up there?
Phoo
Observer
Nope, wrong bus. Charlie's bus, is in fact in Death Valley somewhere, and there it will likely remain.. The original Furthur was stripped and used as a utility vehicle on Ken Kesey's farm for a while, and eventually ditched in a swamp. It is currently slated for restoration, pending the raising of necessary funds.
I found it on the internet:
http://www.sfgate.com/bayarea/article/Ken-Kesey-s-Furthur-bus-on-new-trip-to-5160396.php
So, it must be true!
I found it on the internet:
http://www.sfgate.com/bayarea/article/Ken-Kesey-s-Furthur-bus-on-new-trip-to-5160396.php
So, it must be true!