Getting a Master's Degree in a Year

My main concern upon entering graduate school was, to be perfectly honest, that I would have enough creative outlets in the absence of numerous outdoor adventures. Instead of heading to Smith Rocks to do battle with my nemesis Cool Ranch Flavor (5.11b), I've been teaching middle schoolers about convection. Instead of coating my bike with Mac Forest clay, I've been churning out word documents like a champ. And in place of Ice climbing in the gorge the other day with Greg and Ian, at 6:37 am I picked up some christian crank (coffee) on the way to school and started cutting out laminated papers for the students.

I won't lie, this hasn't been an easy transition. In the past, I have decided to drive to Red Rocks at 11pm (on an impulse) on more than one occasion. Those days are gone, at least for now, and in their place are deadlines, forms, reflections, research and stress. Despite all that, the past few months have been a truely rewarding experience. From my numerous mistakes, a stronger and more adaptable Jake has emerged, one who gets a kick out of the ever reflective process that a school teacher goes through each day.

I'm not doing this for the pay or the health benefits, even in these uncertain times. Sure, those things will be nice. I'm not even doing it for June, July and August, which are thought by many to be one of the greatest perks of being a teacher. We all need something to throw ourselves at. Something that is bigger than us, and this is what I've chosen. It's been a fun ride so far, even though it's not in the format I am familiar with (snow, rocks, and knobby bike tires are seldom involved). The kids I teach show me flashes of brilliance every so often, and it truely is a wonderful thing when I get to witness it. I'm pretty lucky, I get to learn something every day.

That said, raise your glasses or mugs in honor of some wintertime fun in the woods. Maybe I'll see you out there. Off to go bouldering!

43.365126, -117.306519

My relatively short existence on this planet has shown me that I am quite good at getting very, very close to destinations but not actually there. It is kind of like a modern day Zeno's Dichotomy Paradox. My brother and I have a history of making it not far from summits, I've driven for an hour out to a mountain bike trail only to realize I forgot my helmet or shoes, and I've flailed on many a rock climb right at the top (see: Cool Ranch Flavor at Smith).

This past week, Rachel and I tried to drive out to the Owyhee Reservoir. At our destination there was canyoneering in Leslie gulch and Succor creek, some sport climbing at said waterways, fishing and camping on the shores of arguably the most remote region in Oregon.

We got within 4 miles.

When we were filling up in the thriving metropolis of Rome, OR (blink and you'll miss it) we were told that inclement weather had caused a washout on the road to Leslie gulch. Succor creek (perhaps aptly named) was supposed to be pretty cool, and it still had climbing and canyoneering so we decided to try and go there instead. Around 8 miles from the campground, we saw the most giant grasshoppers/locusts/whatever they were I have ever seen. They made a very alien noise and where probably the size of a hotdog. We are talking old testament stuff here.

After numerous standoffs with cows (about 8 cows for every person out there), thence began the flood the likes of which the world has never seen. OK, so maybe it wasn't that bad, but the packed earth on the road turned into an adobe and axle grease combination that made the road completely impassable. We camped there, on the side O' the road hoping it would dry out that night. It didn't, so we decided to drive in from the other side.

This meant unavoidably driving into Idaho for a couple of hours. The roads there were just as bad. Disenchanted, we headed back towards Bend. We camped at Glass Butte on Highway 20, which I would recommend checking out. I've never seen more obsidian in my life, thus the Butte's name. There were many beautiful wildflowers viewed on our hike to the top, which mostly made up for a trip that had so far involved a buttload of driving. Rachel is such a good sport, and my cheerful disposition never really allows me to not have fun on road trips. It just didn't turn out like we had envisioned. But maybe that's a good thing. A little unexpected weather tantrum can sure keep you on your toes.

Near the top of Glass Butte

A hottie.






A place given the lofty title of "the Pillars of Rome." Rach and I dubbed it the mud walls of Rome. Somehow I expected a giant free standing ring of spires reminiscent of the coliseum. What we found were shabby mud cliffs with an angry peregrine falcon swooping around. Before you get the idea that I'm now jaded, it was actually awesome, just totally not what you would expect. Bonus: One more place in Oregon that I've now visited.



Considering you could almost get stuck walking around, we decided not driving further.




There was concern for a while this was going to become a permanent part of the car




The country out near the Owyhee river is completely stunning. There were sweeping vistas punctuated by odd spires and giant cliff faces. I'll have to go back and check out the actual canyons next time.

The Pursuit of Untamed Ornithoids

Courtesy of my Mother and her incubator, we received 5 ducks a couple of weeks ago. You can watch the buggers practically grow before your eyes and their wings are no longer little nubs (10 lbs of food, 1 week). They've been earning their keep, as they murder the slugs with tireless energy. Note to other would be duck owners: fish and lillipads do not cohabitate very well, but man, they are funny sometimes. Hopefully there will be some tasty eggs soon.

It really is an egg by the way...

"One of these things is not like the others

One of these things just doesn't belong

Can you tell me which thing is not like the others

By the time I finish my song?"

...

==('''')>=|"|=<('''')==

Been busy. Real busy... but at least I still have been able to get out into the hills to enjoy some great singletrack. The snow is receding nearly as fast as my hairline, and the trails are approaching mint condition. Here's a couple of vids to get me through the next couple of rough weeks, it being finals and all.

Everyone has that one section of the Mary's peak trail that they just can not ride (for many, this can be most of the trail). This is my section, which Shaun executes in perfect form what I did moments earlier.

Dan and Shaun screaming down the fast lower section of the trail. Dan is showing off his new invisible helmet technology. To his credit, the dude can make it over nearly any technical section. Yes, when I scratch my head I get splinters, but my poor riding skills necessitate wearing a brain bucket. Kudos to all riders, and Asher the trail dog cruising in the end of the vid.

In a couple of weeks I'll be done with my undergraduate degree in Biology (with a chemistry minor and a pre-education option with completed master's requirements. Sounds cooler that way). Then it is on to the Graduate program in Science and Mathematics education here at Oregon State. As much as I like sticking my fingers into every outdoor activity I can, it'll be good for me to dedicate myself to something this important for a year, and for the rest of my life. Education is where I see myself, and I am looking forward to it. Challenges come in all varieties, and it's good for the soul to sample their delicacies while you can. Thanks to all whom have helped me get where I am; I've been blessed with some of the most outstanding friends and family one can find. Ciao for now.

Assorted Desert Rock Pics

Some desert rock art. I've always wondered if these were really masterpieces painstakenly created by a local legend, or some grafitti on the side of the Piaute equivalent of a 7-11 (Damn kids!). Regardless, they are pretty cool to look at.

D-Tron and Chris gettin' slab-happy

Matt on a great/funky 11.c that incorperated some bizarre stems


Looks comfy to me

The Superfluous Campaign 2009

Exhibit C: Making Creme Brulee with an Oxy Acetylene torch

Rana

The wetlands near my place are rife with activity, particularly later in the day. The red wing blackbirds dart this way and that and the female mallards can be heard everywhere. The cattails are starting to emerge, The fruit trees blossoming and the wild roses budding. (Begin nerdgasm) Invertebrates of all kinds can be found in moments, and Rachel and I saw a leech there recently (awesome!).

However, around sunset the life form with the greatest presence is without a doubt the frogs. The noise of their calls is DEAFENING. To get close, you have to pad silently into the main cattail pond area. Then, wait for the ones near you to decide that you are not a threat (amid the cacophony, they can hear your footsteps surprisingly well) and they will eventually return in full surround sound. Sometimes I swear it is a few decibels shy of hurting my ears. Also, even when you can hear a frog within a few feet of you, you can seldom see the sneaky little buggers.

My old Canon A540 is not equipped with the latest sound recording technology, but I took some video all the same. In a month or two the shallow ponds will be quiet and well on their way to being dried up, and those of us who frequent the boardwalk will have to wait 'til next year to hear them.

P.S. I've noticed that the Green Heron that lives in our neighbor's tree seems nice and plump these days...

An Oldy

I stumbled across some of my old backcountry ranger pictures while cleaning out my OSU storage. Summer's almost here people!

Red Rocks 2009

Some of you may be detecting a pattern here. Though I am loathe to let any sort of routine sneak into my life, going to Red Rock canyon has become sort of habit forming for me during spring break. The trip was, as it usually is, sunny and filled with some steep sport climbing, enjoyable long routes (for the most part) and many laughs.

Many aspects of this excursion were not routine. A few off the top of my head include

• I ate a lot of steak
• Except for a moment, I never set foot in Red Rocks campground (Thanks Mikey!)
• I went to a place called Cactus Joe's. They sell cactus. More at 11
• Got wicked scared on a 5.7
• I witnessed human feces get on a climbing rope on a multipitch *shudder*
• As I scrambled up the side of Mt. Wilson for 3 hours, I was impaled on yucca plants, my arms were raked by desert scrub oak and kept myself from falling by holding onto some grass only to bail at the base of the climb because it was so cold I could not feel my hands (cool view though, I'll be back)
• Ate more steak

I won't post an entire synopsis tonight, but needless to say, the trip was enjoyable. Instead I'll post pieces here and there the next month or two, not because I'm lazy (well... maybe), but it'll keep me occupied while I write a few term papers. Here's to some hard crankin' this April people!

Beater

There are some things in life that you just can't get rid of. Let me rephrase that. It's not that you are actively trying to rid yourself of the object, but more you wouldn't be heartbroken if it were to, y'know... lose itself. But then somewhere along the way you get attached to it and the nostalgia that accompanies the toy becomes larger than it's monetary worth.

Exhibit A: My old Specialized Rockhopper. I bought it with paper route money (and some help from the folks) the year before I entered 7th grade. By my calculations I have had the thing for over 15 years. I bought it because before I had ever mountain biked, I desperately knew I wanted to be a mt. biker. As an aside, curiously I knew I wanted to climb before I ever did that as well; our teenage selves can be surprisingly perceptive at times. Anyways, in that time since it has never been stolen, and much of the bike consists of the original parts. I took the 'ol beater down to the Cyclery here in Corvallis, and the diagnosis brings a tear to my eye. The replace list includes:

1. Bottom bracket: still spins...err grinds. I have my suspicions that the ball bearings are long gone, and the thing somehow makes use of crushed rock that has infiltrated it over the years.
2. Headset: Requires hand tightening mid-ride. Otherwise a mid-ride handlebar/stem removal would occur. Upon application of grease converts said grease to road tar within days.
3. Derailleurs: Front derailleur is irreparably cracked. The rear is starting to do that ghost shifting thing.
4. Shifters: Replaced numerous times as my knees (long legs) tend to deliver devastating upper cuts. The front shifter is circling the drain.
5. Brake pads: I probably have put a dozen on over the years. Same goes for the chain.
6. Brake Levers: Amazingly the bike still has the original levers. I may carbon date them someday.
7. Saddle: Originates from that gel seat craze in the early 90's. Still amazingly squishy, maybe too squishy as it's like riding on a water bed sometimes. The seat post looks like it was attacked by a wolverine.
8. Wheels: The front hub and rim are, astonishingly, the original. The rim is wafer thin due to excessive mashing in my many attempts to endo early in my mountain biking career. The bike has seen two tacoed rear wheels, one of which was courtesy of a parked car.
9. Tires: Long since replaced, the "new" slicks once resembled a rubber like substance.
10. Frame: 3 huge dents on the toptube but since it's steel I'm OK with that. Numerous chips in the paint. Chain stays exude rust.
    

To borrow the metaphor, it's a "face only a mother could love" would be an understatement. To fix all of these problems would cost me about $200, on a bike that I couldn't give away. But I'm fond of the beater. Having a bike that looks like a shipwreck has its benefits too. Nobody is going to steal this thing when there's a flashy Bianci parked right next to it at school. Is it worth 200 bones? Probably not, but it might last me another 15 years at this rate, and pedestrians can be thankful that they can hear my fenders rattle as I careen through intersections.

Tower Work

This is more than a little belated, but this last fall I got a job working on radio towers, courtesy of my buddy Greg who hooked me up with one of the coolest bosses ever: Joe Harrington of Harrington Tower services. How might a semi-pro slacker like Jake get a job like this, you might ask? Well, a major prerequisite is that one not be afraid of heights, because when you are on top of a 300 foot AM self support tower, that sucker sways like bamboo in a spring breeze.

Most often I was painting and pressure washing with coworker Tyler "Mooner" McAdams (painting effects seen below), but at times I had the opportunity to learn how to install coaxial cable, microwave dishes, FM bays, and to work on my ratcheting skills. Sometimes the weather would get pretty nasty on us, as condensation from a cloud tends to make a tower "rain," for lack of a better term. But it was those clear days, the days when you could see all of the Washington peaks lined up that made the job more than worth it. It was one more reason to like hanging out in a harness for long periods of time.



Towers are usually located up in the high places, which tend to have rather protean weather. For illustration, below are two pictures of a tower near Olympic national park, taken 5 minutes apart. Don't be ashamed if you can't see it in one of them, because I could hardly see my work boots right around then. Five minutes later the sun came out, it warmed up by at lease 25 degrees and I could see the ocean, which was a score or more miles distant.

Quick Outdoor-sy Picture (to keep me motivated)

Nothing like a romp up to Mary's peak to get the ummm... juices flowing. The real money is when it gets Mt. Bike-able. But man, sometimes I forget how pretty it is up there this time of year.

The Superfluous Campain 2009

Exhibit B: Extreme Snowshoeing

Big Horn Sheep

Back in 2006, I worked for the BLM in the Steens Mountain Wilderness. It was one of the better jobs I have had. Backpacking around to remote campsites, bucking aspen, using the ol' GPS and bouldering on off days had its perks for sure. I saw my second mountain lion out there, stacks of elk, antelope and some bizarre mt. dwelling shorebirds. My one regret was never getting to see a Big Horn Sheep, which I had wanted to do since my youth.

I recall being astounded hearing from one of the game wardens that a tag for a Bighorn will auction for sums up to $100,000. Well, I'm not astounded anymore. I've actually tried a bit of hunting myself and enjoyed it, but I can think of better things to do with that much money than shoot some mutton with croissant shaped horns. Think of all the cams you could buy with that (sarcasm meter should detect a moderate reading) much dough!

Grown up Calvin

I try not to pontificate too much, but I thought this was pretty cool. Childhood is seldom the idylic time it is often portrayed as. There are, however, lessons learned during that time one should never forget. This is one of them.

Bill Watterson, the creator of Calvin and Hobbes, never licensed any of his material. He claimed it would cheapen his work and reduce the potency of their characters. That's why we never saw Calvin or Hobbes dolls and mugs when the comic strip was popular. Those "Calvin pissing" stickers we see on the backs of trucks in the U.S. are unliscensed and illegal. The image above was not drawn by Watterson, and though he might disapprove, I always imagined (and/or hoped) this is how Calvin would turn out.

*end rant* next up: the usual

Broken Top

Every once in a while the heavens decide to part this time of year and grant us some sunshine. That means it's time to head to the hills and see what they have to offer, e.g. blood, sweat, cold temps and the opportunity to see how the crampons bite. Timbo and I had a decent couple of days playing in the snow out near Broken Top. We found (through the usual suffering) that the summit is a bit far and technical to get to in 2 days of snowshoeing. That said, the weather was crystal clear and the moon was damn near full. We ended up on top of a false summit as a consolation prize, which really was icing on the cake as far as I'm concerned.

View across the crater towards another false summit



The bros at our highpoint with South Sis' in the distance

Pink time during a time o' day I don't usually frequent

South, Middle and North (aka Big, Little and Ugly) sisters at dawn

The Superfluous Campaign 2009

Exhibit A: Running along sandy ledges until you fall.