azette G December 2020
e 40 Gazett inal year Laryngology, Denmark Tennis, Music X-country ski, Back Country ski Downhill ski, Hiking Cycling, Cycling, Cycling Forest, Snow Fire, smoke Trees, Palouse COVID-19
Cover photo: Cispus & Cowlitz River divide Centerfold: High Prairie, Wy’East region, Oregon Rear cover: Bennett Pass, clouds rolling in.
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Gazette inspiration from: my muse; snow, rain, Trees, Mushrooms,
An iPhone, a camera, two bicycles, an enthusiastic partner, the gift of time and landscapes to explore.
Apple, iPhone 11 Max, Macc OS, MacBook Pro, Instagram: voxdoc, Canon EOS RP,
Amy Polo & James Thomas 122 SW 1st AVE, STE L9 Portland, OR 97204
Rapha, Open Cycle, Sugar Wheel Works, River City Bicycles, CyclePathj, Dirty Finger Bicycles, Patagonia & independant coffee shops everywhere.
a lim
2020 rocks! “Really?,� you reasonably ask. Where have I been? I am writing this in 2020 and since living is a strong prerequisite for a splendid year, being alive in 2020 suffices to make 2020 the greatest year. Certainly a top 62 out of the past several milennia in my limited lifetime. I find it impossible to live either in the past or the future. The pandemic ground my office practice to a halt, opening up hours and days for exploration, a huge gift of time. I saw no patients for 3 months, save 2 or 3 with a significant infection or breathing problem. Time opened to study voice and interact with colleagues via video. My work/play time balance shifted even further to time in the outdoors than I previously savored. International travel ground to a halt after a January trip to Germany & Denmark. Six international teaching travels were on my agenda. Some were cancelled, some postponed and others went ahead online. A gradual inner change became manifest as Amy and I became parters.
While you are reading the Gazette, if you want to reach us... jim@voicedoctor.net amy.polo@comcast.net
: voxdoc : blovedhoneyb
: docvox : honeyb_cyclisme
(503) 341-2555 (503) 807-9513
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Sound
Camping in the forest this spring, nature dominated the soundscape. No noise pollution from jets overhead. No contrails. Just the unadultered sky and hardly anyone out to enjoy it. Technology made sounds and sights disappeared. Wilderness returned to an approximation of a natural state as a special gift from COVID-19.
Night
Discovery
During winter 1979 I picked up books to learn celestial navigation for sailing by memorizing stars in the night sky. New stars rose as the seasons wore on. One late summer day, I searched the sky just before dawn. Suddenly I recognized the Pleiades, seven sister stars I had last seen the previous winter. The night sky had come full circle and I grasped some visual knowledge of the connectedness of years when outside at night. Camping frequently this year renewed my night sky observations. Stars still rotate and it was a particularly bright year for Saturn, Jupiter and the moon. Hiking to a campsite one night, a campfire on the hill ahead turned out to be Mars rising through the forest. In July comet neowise graced the wilderness night, while hidden in plain view in the city. In August, lying on a chilly mountain top rock outcropping, down Rumpl for shelter, clear night air rapidly cooling, watching for just a few more minutes, a fireball streaked across the sky - serendipity.
Hidden
We ford the cold mountain creek, when that uncomfortable sensation in my gut suggests a need to step off the trail for relief. I lean my bicycle against a fallen log, duck under branches away from trail and creek, dig a hole and squat. Staring back at my path during that moment of meditative relief, the crosshairs of my sight align on a ribbed fungus. A frisson of recognition - a morel, although I am a bit uncertain initially. More ribbed protusions from the leaf litter come into focus. I had stomped through them, #night hidden while walking. How many have I passed before? They pop into view frerquently #wild after that initial discovery. How difficult to see and hear what is all #forest around us without some conscious effort. The #light pandemic tuned my ears and eyes. #comet
#Morelseason
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Started a cycling blog - roughride.cc
Elevation climbed: ~242,000 meters (about 27 trips up Mt. Everst)
Hours ridden ~1,100 hours in the saddle
Distance cycled: 17,938 km which is a bit over 11,000 miles.
m k 8 3 9 , 7 1
“I’m not afraid to die, I’m afraid not to live.” Wim Hof
s r a b e l d n a H
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Rolling grassy hills pass slowly, each a nearly identical curve, snow dimly lit by filtered moonlight. Fingers feel tight, squeezed by the cold, even with gloves. Climbing the gentle grade partially warms toes to the point of an ache. Mentally measuring time and distance to the end, with no assurance from unchanging scenery that the end is any nearer - monotony. Or: Wheatfield stubble patterns on each hill pass slowly in the night, lit by a diffused moon on the remaining snow. A twitching mule deer’s ears by the side of the road calculate whether the cyclists notice, asking herself should I bolt? Chilled fingers or toes are barely sensed, the rhythm of pedaling automated. Mental clutter fades, wonder at how one can ride by ranches for hours, seasonal lights lit just for us, not even a single pickup passes - serenity.
eral circulation after eating. Our plan was to ride the Palouse country in the land of the Wasco for the Rapha Festive 500, a 500 km ride challenge over 8 days of winter between Christmas Eve and the New Ye a r . F o r us, the ride celebrates feeling alive after the winter solstice, as life begins its return, so incremental so symbolic, during 2020’s coronavirus pandemic. I just received the vaccine this week. Dufur to Dufur via the Deschutes River trail was one proposed leg of the week’s journey. Snow dropped two days ago as we entered the Columbia Gorge. Rain in Portland moved east toward Hood River during our drive. At Cascade Locks, the temperature plummeted and large, wet f lakes started to cover the windshield. By Viento, more than 10 cm covered
yo n n a c e Th
What is the difference between monotony and serenity?
Serenity or monotony, it is 7 pm, 2.5 hours past twilight. We still have 45 km to pedal, an 11%, iced gravel grade to get started, aptly named Old Moody Road and we skipped lunch in order to get past the central crux of the day. We never skip lunch. One of us will surely bonk and slow to a crawl very soon. Time for a quick calorie break before commencing the uphill crawl to the warm and gracious Balch hotel. My digits always seem to freeze after eating. It actually helps to have a hill to climb, to recharge my periph-
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the roads and cars were pulling off to the side. Exiting the deep gorge, Hood River was painted completely white, altering our planned cycling tires. We have studded 45Nrth and Terenne tires for white adventures. Generally, east of the Cascades, the Palouse region is dry and can be cycled much, if not all of the year. Winter fog and interior intense cold can greet you, though the winters are a rather nice time to ride backcountry as the rattlesnakes and ticks are in hibernation. However, the snow storm was a little weird in the way that the gorge, the Columbia Gorge, generates a strong micro climate. It shuffles cold air between each side of Cascadia. The recent rain in the Willamette Valley moved over the mountains dropping typical orograpic snowfall increasing depth with elevation. However, with the gorge effect, cold air whistling through the gorge changed the lower elevation rain into snow, leaving a pretty good dump along each side of the Columbia gorge. This low level snow extended eastward into the typical rain shadow area of Wasco and Sherman counties. Counter intuitively for our planned loop, riding up over the Tygh Ridge through the Dufur gap was rather easy, with less than an inch of snow at the top. Downhill we would enter the Deschutes canyon at Sherar‘s falls and descend the canyon to the mouth of the Deschutes River.
Inside there are really no practical canyon escape routes. Options are to exit the canyon at the bottom or return to Sherar’s falls and then climb back over the Dufur Gap. Some of my Gaia GPS maps imply that this route will go through, but other maps imply that the central section is fairly closed. Never having ridden it, there are now two questions in my mind. Is the central section passable? Then, did the gorge effect leave snow too deep on the lower section trail that even studded snow tires weren’t going to get us through? With two of us on this trip, in the principle of a Rapha Prestige ride, we
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only finish at the pace of the slowest person. The circuit will be 145 km, already a longish distance so near the winter solstice. The climbing will be more than 1500 m. We are getting started about an hour after sunrise. Amy is 51 and I’m 61, both modestly athletic in different ways. We don’t lift weights or attend fitness class, mainly we ride regularly, not necessarily long distances, definitely not fast. There is always time to stop riding and savor the light, listen to a bird, smell the lush earth. My approach to trip planning is a bit cerebral. Read reports online, get to know reliable riders for beta, examine a variety of maps available on Gaia GPS, weather maps, current satellite photos. Amy may search for any interesting peak or a specific destination and leave the details up to me to get us there. If we run the route clockwise, I
route counterclockwise, it will be easy to abort if the upper road is snow clogged, but it will get harder to abort once we reach the center, unknown section. If impassible, it still seems possible to backtrack, getting back at a late, but reasonable hour. The most difficult decision will be, if we get through the troublesome unknown center section, reaching the lower trail and finding that the snow pack is so heavy that the last 30 km out the river canyon becomes a near impassible slog. Then we would be at the halfway point, but need to turn around and retrace our steps through the central section with an unknown number of washouts before returning uphill, back and over the 900 meter Dufur Gap. So there seem to be several stages of commitment and even with satellite photos, they are still unknowns. Then there were the cougar tracks. This is a contemplative trip at
will answer the question about the lower level snow depth early in the ride with a relatively easy return to Dufur, but then we will have to climb canyon most of the day. If we run the
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times, rock walls on one side, river on the other. A graded rail path, easily wide enough for two abreast. Having ridden the lower section in the fall, it is possible to ride fast and chat and think you are the only ones out here. For much of the world, these are clearly mountains surrounding us, rising 800 meters on either side of the valley. Here in Oregon, they are hills and ridges. But surely, if you had to climb their scree and cliffs at night trying to exit the canyon for help, they are clearly mountains. We hit the central section in a fresh snowfall. Not seeing anyone for miles, we encounter and climb over barbed wire that an aggressive rancher put up on BLM land that tries to close off trail sections (until a rail tie falls on it, lol). We hike through a few arroyos, scramble over heavy rockfall carrying our bikes. Trestles built by the Des Chutes Rail company once bridged these gaps but have succumbed to weather and fires. We glance down in the snow. Life magically appears. Rabbit tracks, yes. Wandering bird prints, yes. Gatherings of mule deer, yes. Mountain goats, yes. Life is all around. It’s actually crowded with invisible life as all these tracks were made since yesterday’s
snow. Then, deep in an arroyo, trail blocked by a blown down, barbed tree, giant dog prints appear, except there are no human prints accompanying these dog prints. They are too big for coyote, and they don’t have any claws. Hmmm. Puma concolor, cougar. I scan up the rocks on either side. How fresh are the tracks? How f a r away f rom cell ser vice are we? Could I even see a cougar if he crouched , mo tionless straight in front of me? Evening sunlight paints the basalt pillars sa lmon a long t h e c a n y o n’s upper east rim. My pupils dilate, either from the dimming light or the adrenaline. One more wash to pass through before there is only moonlight. We want to see the trail condition at the end of this section to know how difficult the next 30 km will be. There has been snow, perhaps 15 cm on each north facing loop of
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trail, while solar clensing cleared the south facing loops. Entering what turns out to be the 6th and final wash the nearly full moon appears above the rim as dusk settles. Climbing out onto the north section of the rail trail, there is a dimpled 38 mm tire mark in the snow. Relieved, someone has ridden this section today from the Columbia river side, so we should be able to ride most of the way out now. After climbing the trestle end pillars, we are hot and unfortunately sweaty. With no more climbing in the next thirty km, falling temperature of nightfall, and still a bit of residual uncertainty about whether the cyclist we are visualizing had to walk much to get here, stopping now for lunch is a recipe for chilled bones, freezing fingers and painful toes. While the air temperature is below freezing, streams are still flowing. On a stream crossing in this section in October, mud suctioned my wheel to a halt and I planted my boot in the stream, filling the inside
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with water. I’ve no desire for that adventure tonight. Coming upon two ruts of water, we attempt the icy hump in the middle. I start a slide near the end and cut into a bit of puddle. Halfway, Amy’s wheels slide sideways into the left puddle. Reaching out to slow the fall, she plunges her hand into the right puddle, over her wrist. “My hand is wet!!”, she crys out. A priori we never know where the adventures will lie, only in hindsight. Yet attempting a long ride, in an unknown area, with questionable maps, in fresh snowfall, sets up for the possibility of highlights. Exiting the canyon, we feel we have accomplished our goal, and yet we have 45 km to go. Thus begins 3 hours of serenity or monotony, it depends on one’s perspective.
James
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F
6 weeks after a July descent on this hill, on August 23, the left side of the road burned in the White River fire.
t s e r o
Outdoor cathedrals of black monoliths, burned in the 2015 Cougar Creek fire. Who knows when they will topple? We didn’t lean on any of them.
Godberson road enters daylight again.
Descending the Dark Larch corridor.
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T re e s As spring waned, higher elevation forest opened up from snow, but hundreds of trees lay across the trails and roads in the Cascades. I began to carry a handsaw for passage through the branches, but trail volunteers later cut through the larger trees, opening paths and speeding riding. One day I paused to admire some rings. How many were there? I snapped a few photos for later enlargement. 300 rings in the first tree I counted. Wooop! that is a lot ot time! Dendrochronology began to tell stories of the forest around me, dry years, wet decades. Jordan Creek, an upper branch of Tygh Creek, hosts wildlife and trees reaching for the sky.
Winter fall along Memaloose Creek in May, burned later in September in the massive Riverside Fire.
A leeward side of the Cascades White Oak, gnarly limbs searching for light at the edge of a former ranch, now grassland nature preserve.
The young conifer, seeking what light is available, ready to push skyward should the canopy open further.
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Two views of this towering conifer. Who has this giant seen pass beneath? I am not an expert, but I suspect this titan has parhaps 2/3 of a milenium beneath its branches.
Gazing up, what did this forest look like in 1400? How long has this tree chatted with the surrounding trees? It is boggling to think someone would cut down forest this ancient to be installed as a 2x4 inside an anonymous wall somewhere.
!
"
A red mark for every decade on this fallen collosus, a blue arrow for every century. 6 centuries of cells visible here by the side of the trail. Crane Creek was just some blue lines on a map for us at the start of 2020. Then we rode it several times, becoming intimate with the huckleberries and the fallen mammoths. Plenty are still standing.
Tahoma
Crane Creek
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Black Lives Matter is a central part of our lives. Portland was an epicenter in the news and we actively engaged in activities from patronizing businesses of color, learning what systemic racisim is and how we are complicit in it. We joined in protests around the city.
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I wander Portland streets daily. On May 30 after George Floyd’s homocide, downtown Portland sustained substantial window trauma. The next day, plywood covered the downtown core. The Apple store front among others became a mecca for art.
Joining protests revealed democracy intensely in action, along with human inhumanity toward other humans.
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My father, Charles, became ill and nearly died in November 2019. After he returned home, I flew to Pennsylvania for a visit, discussing life choices. All his life, he nearly lectured me about how important it was for him to remain independent, self sufficient and to be able to walk. He valued these ideals above many others. In fact, he had already been able to stay on his farm for many years after retirement as he physically slowed. I tried to echo his choices to him in his state of debility and illness. His recent debilitation was diagnosed as aortic stenosis, symptoms which he likely had been ignoring for some time. He never did like doctors very much., a much longer story. He had an option to have the aortic stenosis dilated and there was a risk of dying from the procedure, but there was the possible outcome of restoring blood flow to his body and extremities, probably allowing him to walk again. He wantd to avoid any surgical intervention. He believed that the outcomes of many surgical procedures aren’t that great. Whether this was a bias from his years as an anesthesiologist at a small town hospital, watching surgeons, I can’t be certain. So he maintained a strong fear of doing something and simultaneously a view that life is only
Choices
worth living if he could remain independent. These views were not commensurate with each other at this point in his illness. He spoke to me a lot about wanting to die, and we discussed assisted suicide which seemed not to be available to us. I painted a picture where he could choose to have the procedure that he was either frightened of or quite sure wouldn’t work, as being very compatible with his stated views. If it was successful, he would probably walk out to the barn again and feed his horses and cats each day. If it was unsuccessful and he died, that was what he was actually wishing for now that he was bed bound. However, there was also the choice to do nothing, likely with ongoing physical deterioration. This is what he chose, consciously, after the discussion and it seemed like a reasonably thought through decision. He remain mostly bed bound for the next seven months until he died. Possibly this was a conscious choice, possibly it was avoidance of a choice. I will never know. James
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Ch a nge
Susan & I shared a substantial portion of our lives. While we are moving apart and onward, she has been a wonderful part of my life. I admire her personal goals and achievements, her dedication to children, our own and the children of Shriner’s Hospital. She has been kind to me thoughout our years together.
“Why do you linger at this fork in the road?” Ma Shouying to Ma Sih Hsuin (in The Overstory)
Tim e
Small differences in an individual’s perspective on time add up. For one person, tomorrow is a good time to pursue a goal and for another, today is a better time. That tiny difference is magnified over weeks, months and years.
Then why split up?
Sh a r i n g
While there is a positive ring to celebrating anniversaries, I haven’t been able to find an inherent reward for maximizing the number of years spent with one individual. I recognize value maximizing time sharing interests while still alive. When, or if two individuals share fewer common interests, then it seems reasonable to move on.
Fric t i o n
When a software coder designs a solution to open an iPhone several milliseconds faster, the accomplishment can seem trivial. Yet, from the perspective that millions of iPhones respond that tiny bit faster, multiple times per day, that coder who spent hours or days on the solution to reduce friction could be said to have saved the equivalent of several lifetimes when all the milliseconds are added together. Conversely, when two individuals who may be ever so slightly frustrated with their partner, add little bits of friction to the relationship, all the frictions add up to time lost.
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Light
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Carbon River, Washington
Golden hour at Syncline in the Gorge.
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S
no w Visits to Washington state led to field trips in the Cascades for skiing and hiking.
Apres ski recovery
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T
e y d i e-
House bound
at the start
of Lock-down Morgan & Sydney
started up a
little creative outlet.
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Happy Holidays from James & Amy
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My pre-pandemic travels took me hiked and viewed the Sea of Galilee, to the beautiful country of Jordan, the Mount of Transfiguration, the where I spent nearly the entire month ancient Decapolis City of Gadara. of February. It is also a country rich in (“Pigs of Gadara,” the unfortunate historical, cultural, and geographical creatures where Jesus sent the cast-out treasures. Most of all, it was demons in the Bible story), a rare opand the historic Yarmouk portunity River to le a r n v a l l e y, from and where come to we ha d know a constant by Amy the Jordanian people. and close view There were four distinct of Israeli-occuparts to my visit in Jordan. The pied Syria, also known as the Golan purpose of the trip was to participate Heights. One of the most important in a Habitat for Humanity (H4H) elements of this part of my trip was build, my fourth such trip through learning about the Jordanian pointthe H4H Global Village of-view, regarding “Israel.” To the program. Jordanian people it is “Palestine.” Many people living in Jordan are Palestinian refugees. Back in Amman, we met-up with the others from our
Jordan trip
The first part of my journey involved renting a car in Amman and jaunting to up to Northern Jordan for about a week with two of my lady friends. We first visited the Archeological Site of Jerash, perfect for my recent obsession with the history of the Roman Empire. We then visited Ajloun and hiked to Elijah’s birthplace, Mar Elias, on the “Prophet’s Trail.” In Um Quais, we
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Habitat for Humanity group. We toured the city’s Roman Ruins (on the second day of Lupercalia!) and visited t h e a m a z i n g King Abdullah l Mosque. Finally, we a r r i ve d i n Pe l l a , J o rd a n where we met Mohammad, our local Habitat liaison, Ramadan, a loca l bui lder who was our bui ld ing super visor, and the young couple, Moatasem & Amona, for whom we were to build a house through Habitat for HumanityJordan and a local community aid organization. The community we served in Pella was typical of conservative, Muslim culture. It was an honor to be so beautifully, and warmly welcomed by them. It was an experience in “radical hospitality.” Our group lodged in spartan dorm-style, and each evening we dined in the home of a different, local family, allowing us an intimate and unique look into Jordanian family life. This was the treasure of my visit to Jordan! We dined seated on cushions on the
floor, surrounding the perimeter of the room. Great trays of delicious food were laid on a plastic mat spread in the center of the room. It was incredible. Conversation, questions, dancing, Bollywood drama on the television, and sometimes singing and dancing were part of the evening. The young daughters eventually felt comfortable enough with us (and with parental permission) to show us their beautiful hair. The third part of my journey in Jordan, took place a little further south in the Dana Biosphere Reserve, for a trekking and scrambling adventure with a group of 10 from my H4H group. Dana is like a desert playground, like Moab, Utah. A highlight was the Shaq
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al Reesh trail. Our guide in Dana, Mr. “Welcome to Jordan,” was the real superstar with his charisma and willingness to take us scrambling in the remote parts of the sandstone wilderness and definitely off the tourist trail. He even took me personally by the hand and “ran me up” a nearly
k nowledgeable and fun, but they gave us a glimpse of modern Jordanian youth culture! Mahmood and I performed a few songs on the bus: I sang while he provided an incredible beatbox, hip-hop-style, with his mouth and hands. We slept in tents, but when the weather changed, we stayed in Bedouin homes. When I mentioned that the weather changed, we actually experienced a snow storm! It was a beautiful surprise. As we hiked, we learned about the Nabataeans, their history and culture. It was very special to enter Petra “through the back door” and walking through time and viewing the archeological wonders on a quieter, vertical wall of sandstone to reach a less-trafficked route, culminating as promontory. we viewed The Treasury. On the final leg of my Jordanian The final part of our “Experience journey, our trekking group joined a few other international hikers and set-out on a trek from Dana to Petra in Southern Jordan with young, expert guides from “Experience Jordan.” Mahmood and Furat were not only
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Jordan” expedition was amazing more concern about the spread of the hiking and Bedouin camping in corona virus. There was a hush in the Wadi Rum where I could indulge my air at the Istanbul airport and maskLawrence of Arabia fantasy) and a f loat/swim in the Dead Sea, slathered in salty, black mud. Jordan was such a big experience, that on my return a “longlayover”visit to Hagia Sophia seemed like an afterthought. I was overwhelmed by the beauty and significance of this 1,500-year-old wearing was more visible. I used one of the masks I had brought for mixing cement at the H4H worksite. Within a few days, Italy would close its borders, and Jordan would be completely closed by March 17. Amy
former cathedral and even more grateful for the opportunity when in the summer Turkey announced that it was converting the Hagia Sofia into a mosque, an affront to the religious pluralism of this sacred space and a threat to its status as an UNESCO world heritage site. My return travel on March 1, was markedly different from my flight to Jordan at the beginning of February, due to
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Acts of Contrition
by Amy
T
his Gazette is full of beautiful, blissful depictions of our new
life together. It is an understatement to say that James and I are truly happy as a couple. We are finally living together with authenticity, honesty, and intention. Nevertheless, our joy coexists with the sorrow of others, and I am deeply remorseful for causing so much pain. As an act of contrition, it has been very important to me to write letters to family and friends. In these missives I bare my failures as a wife, mother, and friend. At James’ suggestion, I publish this example: maybe some of you have heard about this already. It is important to me to let you know; so you are not surprised down the line. Maybe you will not be surprised at all. Jim Thomas and I are “coming out” as a couple. I fell in love with my best friend, and while we are very happy about starting a new life together, this leaves a lot of very sad and justifiably angry people, most notably our spouses, some family members, and close friends. The details of my betrayal will forever be a part of my “permanent record” and do not paint a pretty picture of my character. C u r r e n t l y, w e a r e divorcing our spouses and we are living together in a loft in Old Town Portland. The rupture and moving has all taken place since October 5th. I am reaching-out with respect for all of the many years of love and friendship between us. I also want to make it clear that you are welcome to respond in any way you feel. I respect you, and you deserve to speak your mind. Facing the fear of revealing my sin is something I, personally, need to do. Call it “confession,” but I want to live the remainder of my life walking in truth, and I cannot do it if I hide this part of me, especially from those closest
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to me, no matter the consequences. I have spoken at length about this, by phone, with our church leaders. I submitted my resignation as Director of Choristers. This is not a secret at Trinity. Trinity still feels like my church family. I have been a member for 27 years and led the Choristers for over 26 years, 20 of those years with Jim by my side at the piano. Â Hopefully, we will someday return to the fold, but it is important to give people time to feel comfortable with us. So far, I have been humbled and awestruck by the generosity of grace demonstrated by my church family as I have unburdened myself of the secret. I ask your forgiveness for not living up the role model of a Christian woman. This news disappoints many people, and I expect it to disappoint everyone. Please feel free to reach out, ask questions, and speak your mind With true affection, gratitude, and sincerity, Amy
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Wildflowers obviate the need for gardening. They bloom nearly year round in the Pacific Northwest - just changing topography, elevation and moving around the rain shadows of the Cascades changes the blooms quickly. Just a bicycle and a camera for floral appreciation.
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Orchids
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Photography reveals the dynamics of the raptor’s aerial maneuvers. The beauty of their wings, motion and colors pop out in the camera lens.
.. Flight.
I wanted to identify a woodpecker and days later I noticed the blue bird in the same photo.
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Cycling one particularly windy afternoon, moments after a sunny lunch, smoke dimmed the sun, filling the tinder-dry pine forest with an apocolyptic orange. We abandoned further exploration plans to head deeper into the woods, instead turning back and high tailing it toward a paved road, just in case the fire was closer than we thought. That September day, those forest fires devoured large swaths of Oregon 100 km to our north. Those furious winds fanned the furnace, carbonizing a number of the rides we had done earlier in the year. We continued riding in central Oregon on the upwind side of the Cascades, but over the week, the smoke ultimately spread througout the entire Cascade region.
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Still we found an unearthly beauty in the smoke.
Gazette 2020
n i e r Fi y k s th e
Ash over Wy’East
South Cascades at the start of fire season. New smoke in the air.
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Burdoin mountain, Washington
Winter along Hasting’s Ridge where a hardy few pass. The rain shadow of the Cascades along the Columbia Gorge, largely ignored by travellers zipping along expressways, offers vistas of rolling grassland, extremes of temperature year round, solitude, wildlife and other discoveries for those willing to pause.
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e s u o l Pa
These fields burned in the 2013 Gordon Butte fire and again in the 2018 Substation fire. Fire molds these rolling buttes with a heavy hand.
Pines fade out on the western margin of the Paluse, here near Friend, Oregon.
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What can you see from the saddle? What can you feel on two wheels? What do the seasons smell like?
Palouse country
Klickitat River
Higher than it looks Badger Creek Wilderness
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e d i s ut
O
‘Tis a bonny morning at Bonney Butte
The syncline
Gunsight notch
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Jamys Butte
y r e v o c s i D Always, always carry a picnic.
Drinking at the source - Dog River Springs.
Roads and streams less traveled.
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Exploring the back roads and trails of Cascadia. There are many occasions to get off the bike...
Rails to trails, missing the trestles - Deschutes River.
Rolling down the home stretch into Friend, Oregon.
Sometimes it gets dark on the home stretch. Above Mosier, Oregon. Chatted with the landowner by phone and he said as long as I supported the Republican abandonment of the Oregon Climate vote, we could cross his land.
Dalles Mountain
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Twenty-five Things You Don’t Know About Me (à la Us) by AMy
1. My Oklahoma accent can only be summoned three ways: a) When I’m singing country music. b) When I just get off the telephone with my mom. c) When I’m really, really upset. 2. I just retired as choral director of the Choristers at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral after 26 years. 3. I am allergic to strawberries, but only if consumed in massive quantities. I found out the hard way. 4. I am against clutter. James is finding-out just how much. 5. My childhood pet was a dachshund named « Schnitzel. » 4. I sang backup for Barry Manilow… once. 5. I have climbed 11 of the volcanic mountains in Cascade Range. (I summited four of them with James in various climbing groups.) 6. My favorite Christmas-tide place is Ljubljana. (In my world, Christmas begins on Christmas Eve.) 7. My favorite Christmas carol is “In the bleak midwinter” 8. My favorite color is everything. 9. I am learning to cross-country ski this year. I did not play sports growing up, but I have learned a new sport about every five years since I was 35-years-old: Tennis, Mountaineering, Downhill Skiing, and now XC and Backcountry Skiing. James is a patient teacher. 10. When I talk about “Trailmix,” I am referring to my hiking group, not a snack. 11. My favorite song cycle is “Die Winterreise” by Franz Schubert. 12. I bonked and rallied when hiking the C2C, “Cactus to Clouds,” a trail from the Palm Springs Museum up to the top of Mount San Jacinto.
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Gazette 2020
13. My favorite tennis player is Roger Federer. 14. I need coffee every morning. I need coffee; so I can make coffee. James brings me coffee. James is the best. 15. I try not to be afraid of spiders, but I still break into a cold sweat when I rescue them from my house and release them outdoors. 16. I am a professional model, a vocal cord model. James has gotten me gigs, most notably for the television show, Hannibal. It is not lucrative. 17. One of my eyes is more blue. The other is more green. 18. Cycling is my true passion (besides James.) 19. Music History was my favorite subject at university. Music theory was my least favorite. 20. I am a mosaic. 21. I miss going to Pilates class, but I don’t feel like the pandemic is making me miss-out in general. 22. Like James, I drive a manual transmission, “stick shift” vehicle. 23. I love to co ok . This pairs perfectly w i t h James’ love of eating. 24. I am crazy about vintage fashion. 25. I truly believe that mental illness is an illness, just like cancer. That we abandon so many suffering people to live on the streets is a shameful failing of our society. Now that I am living in close proximity to so many houseless people, their plight is a constant presence in my day. Amy
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To be alive
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Gazette 2020