Outside

So, here we are, end of March and Bend's seasonal identity crisis continues. Just as Bendites start looking ahead toward longer days and greener pastures, Mother Nature laughingly gives us what we asked, no prayed for months ago.

“The fact that this nine-mile snowmobile access road is the only in and out is a pretty significant safety issue here,” says our guide Ross Duncan over the rumbling engine noise of the snow cat as we travel further and further away from paved road and deeper into backcountry. “From that sno-park it's about 100 miles to the nearest hospital.” Food for thought that, for some, would probably be a solid reason to stay home. But for the eight of us and our three guides, it's why we're here, fresh tracks in the middle of nowhere.
My morning started five hours ago in Bend with a 3 a.m. alarm, immediately followed by a prompt smack of the snooze button. There aren't a lot of things that can get me to wake up at an hour that I once considered a bedtime. But in the last 24 hours about 2 feet of fresh snow has fallen on Mt. Bailey, two hours south of Bend and just north of Crater Lake, near Diamond Lake resort.

Juck Macilster is accustomed to working alone and in the dark.
Four times a week, Macilster (not his real name, more on that later) fires up his Bombardier BR400 snowcat, pulls it out of an oversized garage at Virginia Meissner Sno Park and begins a typical eight hour grooming shift, just as he did on Saturday night.
He was gracious enough to let me ride along for a bit and interrupt his otherwise peaceful evening.
As we rumble away from the shed, I watch him lift and lower the enormous winged blade on the front of his mid-1980s-model snowcat as I shower him with newbie questions. Macilster explains to me in simple terms the complex controls that look more like a flight deck and less like a car or tractor.

I'd like to thank both high and low-pressure systems for working together to bring us some perfect late season weather. Depending on where you were, between one and four feet of snow fell in the mountains, as well as Bend, and hung around because of the low temperatures. Even Mt. Bachelor announced the snow level was above average. I filed that declaration between Bend's reported 300 days of sunshine and Central Oregon's fluctuating, fear-based water reports.
After that storm system headed east to terrorize the Midwest, we were left with bluebird days and multi-sport dreams. Quite frankly, if you couldn't find a reason to play outside last weekend, you live in the wrong town!

George Cocores is an adapter.
While plenty of us sat around bitching about the lack of snow and inoperable lifts at Mt. Bachelor, Cocores was getting his.
The experienced 49-year-old kayaker has been taking advantage of unusually high flows on the Deschutes River as it runs through town. He's already matched his goal of 50 runs on the Class IV+ stretch of water known to whitewater fiends as the Riverhouse run. The stretch surges from Sawyer Park to Tumalo State Park and is a popular experts-only section of the river due to its proximity to town. It's an easy three-hour session if the flows are adequate, which means above 500 cubic feet per second according to Geoff Frank, owner of Tumalo Creek Kayak and Canoe.

The Bureau of Land Management announced this week that it is tempering a decision to close a popular rock climbing area on the Lower Deschutes near Madras. The Prineville-based staff said it is rescinding a blanket closure at Trout Creek in favor of a voluntary closure to protect nesting golden eagles. BLM staff said the move would allow them to “better communicate objectives” and complete an ongoing environmental analysis with “maximum public involvement.” The BLM staff has said that the inability of nesting golden eagles to successfully reproduce at Trout Creek is a concern for the agency. The staff is asking that climbers and other visitors respect the voluntary closure by staying away from the upland area and popular canyon walls. (EF)

photo: www.benherndon.com
The Bureau of Land Management drew the ire of the climbing community on Feb. 1 when it notified climbers that it had closed Trout Creek, a popular crack-climbing destination just north of Madras and situated on a bluff overlooking the lower Deschutes River. BLM cited concerns over disturbance to nesting eagles as the reason for the emergency closure.
The announcement caught many in the climbing world by surprise since advocates, like the Access Fund and Friends of Trout Creek, had been working with the Prineville branch of BLM since last spring on the issue of nesting golden eagles.
“There seems to be some correlation with climbing and nest failure,” said BLM Associate Prineville District Manager Steve Robertson, citing research completed by Portland General Electric, which conducts studies on and manages the eagles' habitat at Trout Creek.

Last month, Canadian freeskier Sarah Burke crashed while training in a Park City, Utah, superpipe. The fall resulted in an arterial tear, a brain bleed, cardiac arrest, and, ultimately ,Burke's death at age 29. Burke was a leader in women's freeskiing and identified by many as one of the best in the sport. She was wearing a helmet and skiing within her abilities when she fell. It was an unexplainable accident. There are a lot of freak accidents in the mountains.
In 2007, Bend's own Tyler Eklund, then a 14-year-old grom, broke his C3 vertebra and was paralyzed from the neck down while taking a practice run at the USASA National's snowboard event. Eklund, who continues to be involved in snowboarding through events like the annual Dirksen Derby at Mt. Bachelor, was also wearing a helmet at the time of his accident and had been training for several months to participate in the event