Neverland Portland Premier, Words with MFM

Absinthe always makes great movies and when September finally rolls around, I'm always looking for that premier more than any other. Something about a big mountain and pow-heavy video on the big screen gets me shred ready faster than seeing the first flakes on the mountain webcams. My buddy Colin over at ESPN beat me to the writeup (actually a bunch of people did) and he's a far better writer than I (actually plenty of people are), so you might as well check out his article.

But, before I drop that link on you, here's something to listen to while you read it, an interview I did with Marc Frank Montoya after the show. Unfortunately my camera (yeah, I use a video camera to record audio, it's what I got) ate the first half of the interview, so I'll recount that to you now to the best of my ability. We talked a little about how long he's been filming with Absinthe and agreed it had been a long damn time. He bounced around to Kingpin and KidsKnow for a bit but always came back. Why? Because they have the backcountry (especially Alaska) scene on lockdown. He wasn't actually going to film with them this year because he's doing his own thing (or joint thing with FODT) with another crew. If you haven't heard, it's called Hard to Earn check for it later this fall. One thing that's easy to see if you look below the surface is that Marc's into all kinds of different business ventures. Trying to make money for himself instead of making other people rich, as he says it. Is it hard to keep up the businesses and have time to ride? He said he never really looked at snowboarding as a business, just something he did for the love. He never let the businesses get in the way of snowboarding or his snowboarding get in the way of his business ventures. And that's where the following video picks up. The question posed to him was: Your name is on a lot of products, was there ever anything that you wanted it on that you never got?

Yeah, some kid had Marc sign his smelly shoe.

Now, while you're listening, go over here and read about the video.

Points of emphasis: Dan Brisse comes through (in his Absinthe debut, by the way) with one of the best sections I've ever pointed my retinas at. Evel Kenievel ssized airs, stomping the cityscape like his name was Godzilla, the crowd went bananas and Brisse earned every decibel.

Seeing as much powder as Nicolas and Wolle rode is the sort of thing that almost had me looking for plane tickets to New Zealand. I'm counting down the days now.

Cale Zima flat out destroys himself. When he's 40 and can't get out of the recliner anymore at least he'll have some of these handrail hammers to look back on. The dancing is hilarious also.

Travis Rice. Yeah, forget about him? Going huge as always.

The list goes on. Just buy the movie. Reviewing Absinthe videos should just come down to that from here on out. You didn't need me to tell you that. Just go buy it. You'll never regret it.

My Apologies to the East Coast

East Coast, I'll catch ya next time. Here's a rough route map from the road trip...

18 states, nearly 13,000 miles, the ever-popular 'horned fish' route

That was a long one. Toward the end I was really missing the comforts and organization of my house. The road does get lonesome after a time. If you don't like to spend time with your thoughts, this type of travel isn't for you. If introspection doesn't scare you and you laugh in the face of the blacktop's winding grin, well, belt up, download some audiobooks and podcasts and take the wheel. The road is one of life's great professors. Some things I learned along the way:

When on an unknown road, heed the warning signs.


Dropping into the Death Valley area I saw a sign that said 'Humps 35mph' on a 65 mph road. I said 'how bad could it be.' See I'm used to 'railroad tracks' type bumps. These were the far less common and far more dangerous 'backcountry cheese wedge' style. Had I not activated the anti-lock brakes, I would have been recreating a scene that required voice over. 'That boy better grow some wings or he's going to be sitting in his own personal junkyard a long way from home.'

An exception to the rule

North Dakota has giant statues of everything...

I already knew that, just passing it along.

Cornfields dominate every state from Minnesota south to Kentucky. It gets fed to you, it gets fed to cattle, it gets fed to our cars. It doesn't have that much nutritional value, though, more of a grain than a vegetable.

I got a wholly different feeling driving from Indiana to Texas and trying not to rely on maps. Not that I actually succeeded in that venture, but it made its point. Too often our travels are reduced to lines on a map. When you're just thinking about directions and not locked in on specific routes, you're free to see the region differently. Talk to the people, eat the food, develop a sense of place.

Southern hospitality is real. Maybe it's necessary to get people to eat things like pork brains. They really do cook amazing barbecue down there, though. The best. West Kentucky = mutton, Texas = brisket, most of the rest = some variety of pork.

The Kentucky Waterfall is alive and well in that state. I wish I could have gotten a picture. It was possibly the most magnificent thing I saw on the whole trip.

Shreveport, Louisiana is the Reno of the South.

Unless you're diligent about that sort of thing, which I'm not, your vehicle will become increasingly filthy. And I mean inside, too...

This is what we call a 'pile party'

You can find stretches of road out there with no billboards, low speed limits and no commercial vehicles allowed. One is the Natchez Trace Parkway. Check it out. Trust me, billboards aren't something you'll miss.

You will run out of things to listen to. Trust me. Even local radio stations. When you do. Embrace the silence. Even if you don't. Try it for a stretch. You just might learn something about yourself.

One Seriously Salty Lake

Several times now I've been to or through Salt Lake City and I've never seen the eponymous lake. Sure, I've seen it from a distance, but I've never gotten down there and checked it out. That's probably a shame. Like all other things, maybe next time.

This time I got to hang out with my friend Ben, who I met up at Baldface. I managed to not take a good picture of him, so you'll have to check out the only one I have here. How's that for graphic content? Fair to midland. I'll do better next time. Anyway, Ben stayed up at the Baldface compound for a few days after I left on a freakin' med chopper, so we didn't exactly get a fond farewell. It was good to see him again in Salt Lake. Edit: always one to put his best face forward, he sent me a better shot.

The ever majestic Benny Pellegrino.
Check out his Milosport shops for all yer snow and skate needs.

The first cool thing about where Ben lives is that he has a duck pond in his back yard. He commented that most of them are dark, but a couple are half and half dark and white and a few are straight white. He said that the white ones were definitely the aggressors. That's when I told him more than he wanted to know about duck sex. You see, on long road trips you find lots of things to listen to. Last year on a trip to Bellingham I listened to a podcast about sperm that included fascinating facts about ducks. I will share these facts with you now. If you don't want to read them skip below the picture and no one will think any less of you. Except for me. I'll know. I just will.

On with the educating. Male ducks, as it turns out, will rape female ducks, horrifyingly enough. Not only that, but duck penis can be up to 14 inches. Think about that in terms of duck body size. The drakes waddle tall, the hens live in constant fear. But wait, there's more. The hens have evolved defense mechanisms in the form of side branches off of the main vaginal canal. If she has to undergo the displeasure, at least she can try to force the perpetrator down the wrong alleyway, if you catch my drift. The black and white ducks? I guess mom didn't have the technique down. If you want to listen to the entire podcast and learn things you never knew you wanted to know about reproduction. Check out Radiolab. Aside from being overproduced to the point of confusion, it's a quality show. Anything to keep the mind busy on that long and snowy road. . .

Rapist?

How's that for tangents? That's what I thought. Ben is a member of our great American workforce, which meant I had a day to roll solo. He sent me up the canyon toward Brighton for a little hike to Mary Lake. Observation the first: he lives remarkably close to both a city and many ski resorts. Something like 13 miles to Snowbird. Hot damn. I could get used to that. The hike actually started at the base of a lift right off the parking lot at Brighton and followed the liftline up. A couple miles later and I was treated to alpine lake views.

Lake Mary

Lake Catherine (fore) and Lake Mary (back)

If you can't see the hummingbird in this picture, you're too drunk to leave a comment.

Hiking is like snowboarding, minus the snow and board...

After chatting with Ben about topics like how hard Jeremy Jones works and how good of shape Tom Burt is in, that hike was what I needed. The road trip held precious few opportunities for great hikes, so I got out when I could. Things like that are made all the better by the ever-passing scenery, never fully enjoyed from the driver's seat (three months just not enough time?). The casual thoughts of snowboarding that fluttered into my brain only made that hike nicer.

I got reacquainted with a couple more dudes from Baldface on the trip, Glen and his son Jonas joined the crew the next day for a skate session. I'm a transportational skater now, so I laid off the bowls. Those dudes were pretty well owning the place, though, and it was fun to just sit back and watch. Unfortunately, I failed on the camera. Another fail was our plan to float down the river, this time it wasn't our fault. Johnny Law said, 'life jackets required' under direct threat of an $80 per person fine. The badge actually rolled through just as we got done inflating rafts. So we said 'fine' and hung out on a little rocky patch of beach with a couple beers instead. The night ended just right, though, with a cookout at Glen's place. Killer food was backed up by shred videos (Terje's part from Notice to Appear, then the disc went to shit, then Optimistic?) which was backed up by Iron Maiden videos. Yet another disciple from Baldface, Scott, joined the fray and we wound it down with fresh-baked cookies courtesy the lady of the house. Thanks, Summer! Not a bad way to finish off a trip and really, that was the whole ballgame. I was out of my meds and the drive back to Portland was uneventful to the point of sheer boredom. Thanks again to Benny P for that SLC hospitality. Who knows you may see me back sooner than you think and for longer than you think. I could see living in a joint like that. Only 13 miles to the resort? Sign me up!

That brings my 2009 summer vacation to a close. Another 12,000 miles on the Graham Torino. A great swath cut across this land of ours. Experiences that can never be repeated. Only outdone. Bring on the next one. Speaking of next one, I'll probably drop a little recap post next or maybe I'll launch right into snow-related stuff. Who knows? If you do, tell me, I need to prepare. Peace!

Of Black Canyons and Salty Lakes

Heading north from ABQ with my brother, Vance, brought us to a campsite near the Continental Divide. The scenery went from desert scrub to mountain vista quicker than you could say '4-wheel drive recommended.'

Exhibit A

Irrefutable evidence of scenic majesty.

Guilty beyond the shadow of a doubt.

Mountain campsite accessed by roads that could have easily destroyed my car. For reference, had I stayed on that road, I would have ended up in Silverton, CO.

I was on the scenic route home at this point. He was on his way to hike a fourteener. For those of you outside the state of Colorado, the term fourteener probably carries no significance. As you may guess, it's a mountain whose summit is above 14,000 feet. Peaks under that height, regardless of technical difficulty, starting elevation, surrounding beauty or any other characteristic are spat on with a hatred generally reserved for terrorists and gapers. Now 14,001 on the other hand is just fine. I wonder what happens to the ones with glaciated summits that are melting. Do they get kicked out of the club when they no longer meet the requirement? How often do they check that stuff?

Anyhow, after a night of car camping I was northbound. Vance gave me a hot tip to check out the Black Canyon of the Gunnison River, so that was destination #1. In between, though, a little something I never thought I'd see...

I couldn't photoshop them in if I was getting paid.

That's right, a fucking cattle drive on the highway! I pull up to the fella on the ATV and he says, "Just wiggle your way through there, they'll get out of your way." So I did. And they didn't. Cows ran for their calves. Bulls ran for ME. At one point I looked out my driver's window to see the alpha male, skewer-like horns and all, staring back at me. In front of me was a pregnant cow taking up the entire lane of traffic. These beasts did NOT understand my turn signal. They meandered as if drunk. It was hilarious, really. Not more than 10 minutes later I was out the other side and some other driver was coming the other direction. I gave him a shrug and was treated to this view mere miles down the road.

Never ceasing to amaze

Yeah, lots of 'wow' scenery in the great state of Colorado. And I was nowhere near out yet. Next up was the Black Canyon.

Words just became superfluous.

This shot looks out of the canyon to the west.

The Black Canyon isn't so heavy on the hiking or camping, but what it lacks there it makes up for in sheer scenic beauty accessed directly from the road. I drove the South Rim Road and most of the viewpoints there are less than half a mile from parking, none is more than two miles round trip. The North Rim has some longer hikes of three, five and seven miles, but that's it; a total of five maybe six trails of over a mile round trip. The other extreme is hiking the inner canyon. Always check with rangers before attempting such an excursion. Besides hiking visitors can ride horseback, climb rock or raft the river, among other activities.

Nope, not going to make it to Salt Lake this post, but I assure you, it will head up the next one (I pretty much made a straight line there after leaving the Black Canyon, stopping only in a hip little town called Montrose.) I can't promise all the great pictures I had here, as I forgot my camera in a few crucial places. I had some good times, though, so be sure to check it out.

South Central... USA That Is

I can't believe I'm only as far as Louisiana on the massive road saga that was my summer vacation.

Giant casino in Shreveport, where I inexplicably let them keep their money.

On my way out of Cajunland, I made the mistake of eating at a Waffle House. The waffles are pretty poor actually. Mine was limp like a pancake, but had that 'hanging out on a bed of nails' waffle look. A pancake in waffle's clothes. I like my waffles crispy outside, soft inside. Dual textured. Is that too much to ask?

Next on the list of letdowns, Texas. I took some side roads and not interstates so much and what view awaits me but that of coal mines and oil pumps. Not that rad. Mind you, I'm not out cruising gravel county roads, these are paved highways. The oil in ND is a little farther away from the prying eyes anyway.

Texas, birthplace of Travis Parker

Soon enough I was in Austin hanging out with my sister's family. Aside from the fact that they were in the middle of 40-some-odd straight days over 100°, times were fun. We consumed our bodyweights in brisket and played hours of games. To those of you who haven't played games in a while, they are getting better year by year. We played one that involved killer bunnies and another that was a self-deprecating D&D type. What's that, you ask? Of course they can be turned into drinking games. Can't everything? I'm still laying off the sauce (mostly) until the doctor says otherwise.

Also in Austin is a good friend of mine who I met many years ago at a punk rock show in Madison, Wisconsin. Tamicka and I are still in touch after all these years and we shared some of the best barbecue I've ever tasted. We also watched the bats emerge from under the Congress Bridge. Turns out Austin is home to the world's largest urban bat population. Some 1.5 million of the flying rodents. They're super helpful, too, eating up to 30,000 pounds of insects nightly. Maybe Williston should import some of those to deal with the mosquitoes...

West Texas is about as boring as they come. Drive fast and get to Carlsbad Caverns while you still have your sanity. Use the elevator (seriously) down to the Big Room as your decompression. Then prepare to be transported to some sort of otherworldly sculpture garden.



Here's the obligatory 'the pictures don't do it justice' statement. Some perspective: the room is 1/4 mile long and hundreds of feet tall. My on-camera flash just didn't cut it. Check that place out if you're near southern New Mexico ever. They also have a few hundred thousand bats that come out to feed at night. They have a little amphitheater set up at the cave entrance, but they don't allow photos. Seriously, they built an elevator to get to the caves, but they don't allow photos of the bats? I guess it's for their own safety. I'll allow it this time.

After being assured that the drive from Carlsbad Caverns to Albuquerque was miss-able enough to do in the late night hours, I set out through UFO country. Wouldn't you know it, I saw one! Either that or it was one of those Perseids, but I'm going with UFO. It was super bright and it arced through the sky for at least a second or two. Like a really bright falling star. Come to think of it, it was probably a Perseid. Rad enough to keep me awake for a little while anyway. That is, in fact, a boring-ass stretch. Little towns and huge oil refineries are all you have to break up the desert monotony. Oh and giant factory dairies that you can smell for miles. I rolled into ABQ thinking I was dreaming...

My buddy calls the place North Mexico, turns out they mostly speak English.

If I take one thing away from Albuquerque (besides the dust), it's the amazing food. Actually, I did take some of it away and I left it in my friend's fridge in Salt Lake City. He agreed as to its amazing-ness. Adobado. Remember that word. It means extra-fucking-hot-and-tasty in Spanish. I had adobado pork ribs, ate the same dish two days in a row and still had enough leftover to (accidentally) leave some to SLC. That speaks more to the portions at this place, but the quality was off the charts good, too.

Whew. Almost home. What do you know about the Black Canyon of the Gunnison River? Come tomorrow, you may know a little bit more...