Outside Features

An umbrella drink vacation, Idaho style.When I got invited on a trip down the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, I had no idea how lucky I was. My friends had been trying for 12 years to score a permit. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Which, I've learned, is the secret to running rivers, racing bikes…and much of life.

MIDDLE FORK
The put-in for the 99-mile, six-day Middle Fork trip is at the Boundary Creek Campground in the River of No Return Wilderness in Idaho, about a nine-hour drive from Bend. Like water evaporating and returning to a river as snowmelt, sometimes people recirculate in our lives. At the put-in, I was reunited with my roommate from grad school in the '80s, Carol Cady, who now lives in Missoula. Carol was an Olympic discus thrower in '84 and '88 who went on to earn an M.D./PhD. Anything Carol decides to do, she excels at. She turned her focus to whitewater kayaking about 15 years ago, so I felt pretty good following her down the river.

At home on the RogueFarewell Eddy

Like so many in the local outdoor community, I was saddened when Eddy Miller lost his life two weeks ago during a hike after a day of rafting on the Middle Fork of Idaho's Salmon River. Saddening because even though I wasn't a close personal friend of his, I was looking forward to getting to know him better after spending four days with him on the Rogue River in May.
During our Rogue trip, Miller lived up to his well-deserved reputation as a consummate rafter and outdoorsman. Standing, as he liked to, while rowing invoked old school rafting at its best. But he was on the river for more than just for the rowing and whitewater. Miller reveled in the natural surroundings. And after a day on the river, he proved a model of efficiency in getting the night's camp up and running smoothly.
He looked the part of the outdoorsman, his wiry, tan, well-muscled body set off by a shock of pre-mature white hair.
As the trip unfolded, he revealed his family's unique connection the Rogue. It's detailed in his grandmother's diary, a copy of which he gave me, chronicling a four-month long Miller family stay on the river in 1929. It proved a fascinating read.

Start of the Pacific Crest Half Ironman. I'm the one in the blue cap. "You will have a long and prosperous life," promised the fortune cookie that I cracked open a couple of days ago. I sure hope so. I tucked the tiny slip of white paper into my pocket, not wanting to tease the Gods by unceremoniously sending it to the recycle bin.

Last week, Eddie Miller died on a trip down the Middle Fork of the Salmon River with a group of fellow Bendites. I knew Eddie a little, paddling with him a few times with the stand-up group in Bend. He was a fit, athletic 57-year-old outdoorsman who had just received his river guide license. When the headline circulated the internet last Wednesday, I immediately assumed that a deadly rapid, maybe the notorious Velvet, had taken him. I felt a jolt of sadness for Eddie, but also a jolt of fear. I'll be floating the Middle Fork as you read this.
However, Eddie had negotiated the river safely. It was the final day of the weeklong trip and he had set out on a pre-prandial hike with his wildflower books. Eddie simply slipped on some wet rocks and tumbled down a cliff. The National Guard finally located his body four days later.

The ump runs hot, cold and wild. I am a whitewater neophyte, but I'm joining some far-flung friends to do a trip down the Middle Fork of the Salmon River over the Fourth of July. The Middle Fork is 100 miles of free flowing river in the heart of the Frank Church - River of No Return Wilderness in central Idaho. A group from Bend that did the Middle Fork two weeks ago reported that it was "big and pushy" and, in one incident, unfortunately lost a kayak, never to be seen again. Wanting to actually return from the River of No Return, I figured I'd better do some serious cramming, so I got out on a couple of our best rivers these past two weekends.

Ted and Joan Winchel, who both won the 70-74 age group at the Dirty Half.Are you a runner or are you someone who runs? Does running define you or is it just something you do? When I used to develop running shoes for Nike, we would actually segment the market based on that distinction. A non-ectomorph with three knee surgeries and one foot surgery in my medical records, I am definitely not a runner. Mostly I do it to keep my dog sane. Which is why I didn't sign up for the Dirty Half and wasn't even thinking about it. The super popular event filled up weeks ago. But somehow, after a beer at the Sisters Rodeo on Saturday night with a friend who had an entry that she couldn't use, I ended up at the start line at Phil's Trail at 8am on Sunday morning with 682 other runners (or people who run) and 13.1 miles of trail looming in front of me.

Henry and Amy celebrate a tandem victory.Paddling, skiing, running, hiking, backpacking, climbing, swimming, geocaching-you name it- is all-good, but the bike is my first love. I can still remember the big day when my Dad took off my training wheels and I wobbled away. For a kid growing up in the country, it was my magic carpet to new places and new adventures. Still is.
MOUNTAIN
This is the place and the time to get out on your mountain bike. The not-so-secret news is out: Bend was named Mountain Bike Action Magazine’s Top American Mountain Biking Town in the May 2009 issue. The snow is melting rapidly, opening up higher elevation trails, and the recent showers have been excellent for dust abatement on lower trails. Do it now!

ADVENTURE DEFICIT DISORDER

"The best laid plans of mice and (wo)men often go awry," wrote poet Robert Burns. If you are anything like me, you feel a welling sense of panic as winter suddenly tranforms into summer on the High Desert. The anxiety revolves around a desire to maximize our short summer by packing each weekend between Memorial Day and Labor Day with as many adventures as humanly possible. If a weekend gets lost to poor planning, or unforseen circumstances, I suffer from a condition my friends and I have dubbed "ADD" (Adventure Deficit Disorder). As far as I know, the only cure for a sudden bout of ADD is Plan B.
Fortunately, like a drugstore pharmacist, Central Oregon offers up a vast array of antidotes, especially this time of year. Sometimes we forget how much fun it is to just play in your own backyard.