The Long Approach: springtime 2008 comes creeping in real slow

There have been many instances of late in which I am finding myself realizing that there will be an end to the winter again, that summer will indeed someday come, that I will again bask in the long-lasting and golden light of day. That this will sink into my mind completely. One day before I know it, I will look up--and erased will be the cold crystallization of life at a standstill. I will forget the feel of tundra underfoot that pushes frozen all the way down and reaches up into me, into my own slow calculated movements and makes me know, yet appreciate, the very bite of winter.

But how do I know? I know because we traveled together to the Oregon Coast last month to begin to remember the other side of being ourselves, outside. We went camping and roaming the sunny hillsides of a February holiday. We went to seek the refuge of coming out like waking up from a long hibernation. So hungry, we went seeking the smell of the salt and the sea, and refuge as well from the cold and rain of Portland, the stillness of the mountains, and the search within ourselves for the wealth of heat and lightness that the secret of springtime holds in waiting.



Now that it has been not about a month since we took that first trip, and the promise of a new season first began to peek its face into our lives. Since then, there have been new developments every day. There are blossoms on the sweet-smelling cherry trees that line our streets. There is another hour and 15 minutes of daylight and more every day, and, even though the cold and rain persist (it's only March, after all). Acknowledgment is pretty much universal that springtime has hit the Northwest. My energy level has been on the rise ever since our restful coast trip, and I am increasingly excited about training for the on-season, for living my life on my toes.
I have begun switching my 2-3 run per week
(plus cross-country activities) schedule with more bike rides as the days grow longer, there are more sunnier days, and my desire increases to go further. Standard rides are to the tops of Rocky Butte, Mt. Tabor, and Counsel Crest all in Portland. What can I say, I like climbing up and then flying down. I have also done several longer, less hilly rides as well, in preparation for our 5-day bike touring trip next week out to climb in the eastern Columbia River Gorge. I can't wait! Here are some views from Rocky Butte, a steep hillclimb bike ride and sport climbing crag in Northeast Portland:

When we have been able to get out camping on the weekends, we have also been doing some more spring hiking-type activities. Recently, we backpacked in about 7.5 miles up Eagle Creek in the gorge to camp in our new larger, more rain-appropriate backpacking tent. Still fun and relaxing, but we are gearing up for and discussing a 1/2 month wilderness backpacking trip this summer, so I want to get all of the experience possible this season hiking with a heavy pack. Who would have thought it could be so much fun??




Another twist in events has been my interest in downhill skiing lately. Some friends took me out for my first time ever, then I went a few more times, as my budget has allowed. I have to say that, were it not for my environmental obligation to abstain from supporting too many trips up the mountain ski lift machine (and the chunk each trip takes out of my wallet) I might be able to do this activity much more. I love the feeling of gliding down so fast and, with some coaching, have mastered level 1 black diamond runs at local facilities. My main goal: to save up and buy a pair of A-T all-terrain downhill back country skis, for "skinning up" large inclines and alpine skiing down. The basic difference between these and the downhill skis I have been renting is that the binding allows for switching to a free heel system and attachment of "skins"--frictiony, snow-grabbing scales for uphill travel--for ascents. I am excited about my quick progress towards these goals, and also my authentic enthusiasm for the season to come. I now feel really to jump feet first into the icy waters of spring; this readiness is invigorating and intoxicating. I jumping. I am smiling. I am shifting into a position poised for the heights to which I know can climb if I dare.