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Risk Vs. Reward: On accidents, avalanches and other perils

Risks of avalanches are more common than we think and possible signs appear on Mt. Bachelor.

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

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Thank God for Groomers: Corduroy, Twin Bridges Looping and Belgian cyclocross madness

Thanks to the groomers, trails are easier to navigate on Tangent Loop.

Thanks, Groomers.
An early morning ski two weeks ago reminded me to give a big thanks to all of the groomers who keep the trails manageable for us. I started my dawn patrol of Virginia Meissner early to beat the assured weekend crowd. My ski exploration led me up the freshly groomed Tangent Loop to the tracked-but-not-groomed Wednesdays Trail. I followed Wednesdays until the track stopped at some downed trees. Unexcited about breaking trail through three feet of snow, I headed back toward the Snowbush Trail.
A nice ski track allowed me to experience a couple inches of fresh powder without sacrificing my legs. I toured the western end of the trail system until I ran out of tracked trail. I was suddenly forced to make the unhappy decision of breaking trail or turning around. Unwilling to give up ground, I began to move slowly through the knee-deep, untouched powder. I immediately recognized the futile nature of my attempt and turned around. Just as I headed back with my tail between my legs I spotted the glorious sight of a grooming machine. I knew good karma had saved me as I tipped my hat to the groomers on their way past. The smile stayed on my face as I rode the corduroy to my car.

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Storming the Hill: A new trend, the passing of an old friend and more bikes in Bend

Attempting to bring a velodrome track to Bend.

Snowskate? What the hell is “snowskate?” It’s just like it sounds – one uses a skateboard-esque deck to surf the snow, man.
Garfield Wright, winner of the 2010 Giant Slalom Snowskate Olympics held in Port Angeles, Wash., took some time out from Saturday's rail jam at Hoodoo Snow Area to explain to me the sport and the required equipment. Apparently there are two major types of snowskates: single decks, which have a wide skateboard-like deck with a P-tex and grooved bottom, and bideck boards, which is similar but has a longer ski below the board.
“I think it’s the funnest thing in the world,” said Wright, who rides for the Redmond, Wash.-based snow cone company, Cakeatr, which also sponsored the event.

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The Year Football Broke: The past season was at once tragic, intriguing and exciting. Thank God it's over.

Looking back on an interesting football season.

I woke on Sunday morning realizing that this day would be the last full day of football until sometime next September. Sure, there was the Super Bowl, but it's just not the same. Another season had slipped by.
Soon, Sundays would be occupied by the chores that had been swept aside over the course of the past four months. It's usually a sad sensation when football season ends. Hell, some have said that the conclusion of the NFL season may have contributed to Hunter S. Thompson's decision to blow out his brains.
Weirdly, I didn't care that the season had come to an end. When the Giants kicked that field goal, I turned off the TV and wondered if I'd even bother watching the Super Bowl this year. I will, of course, but I did ponder the thought.

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Goodbye, Bend: On five years of writing about sports and other things you might have cared about

Mike Bookey says his goodbye to the The Source Weekly and all the readers.

I've been writing words in this paper for more than five years. Some of you have enjoyed those words while others have detested them so much that they felt the need to call me, among other things, a communist. This week, however, is my last at the Source. Next week I'm going to go write for another paper in another city that is not Bend, Oregon.
Don't worry – not that I actually thought you were particularly worried about the departure of someone who once called Tim Tebow fans a “gaggle of idiots” – I'll still be writing this column for a few more weeks and maybe longer, but you'll no longer be able to find me hunched behind my computer machine in that old brick building on Georgia Avenue.

Posted inOutside

Is That You, Winter? It's Me, Gregg…: A meager offering isn't enough to save the Nordeen

On droughts, newly arrived dry snow and the debate over headphones in the backcountry

Only one thing will get me up before 6 a.m. on a winter's Sunday morning…fresh snow! Considering the lack of powder days this winter, even two-four inches of white gold drags me out of bed. The previous night's low temperature and impending cloud cover warned me to wax the skis, pack the pack and make a plan.
Arriving at Dutchman Flats before 7 a.m. afforded me a parking spot with a trailhead view. The morning's itinerary included a six-mile, roundtrip ski to Big Meadow. The path ran me up the Flagline Access trail to the Big Meadow trail, down to Big Meadow for some exploration and back to the Landcruiser.

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When Winter is Golf Season: Bust out the long johns and toss out the rules

A round of golf with the lovely La Nina.

While snow lovers have cursed La Nina for her fickle ways and meager offerings this year, many hikers, bikers, joggers are checking the forecast each week to see how many more days of running and riding they can fit in. If you've been hibernating since November, here's how warm it is. I saw a couple playing tennis in shorts in mid-December, a time of year more associated with scarves and socks than shirt sleeves and tube socks.
Say what you will about global warming, but there's something undeniably pleasant about tossing aside your jacket in January. I'm not advocating more carbon emissions or a global monster truck rally, just pointing out that when Old Man Winter throws a change-up pitch, you should take the opportunity to drive it to left field.

Posted inOutside

Hibernation Information: Why not sleep through winter?

Sleeping through the winter.

The longer I live, the more I wish scientists would succeed with induced hibernation, especially for old duffers like me. I hate winter! Well, not really…I do enjoy going out with my family getting in the winter wood, something I’ve been doing almost all my life. When I was a kid, we had a huge wood-burning furnace in the basement of the New England farm house where I grew up.
Woodcutting started in October in Connecticut, with oak and elm being the dominant species we used for keeping warm in winter, and the old two-man cross-cut misery whip was the saw we used to buck up logs into firewood lengths. I can still hear my Uncle Harry on the other end of the cross-cut: “Catsfur (my nickname), I don’t mind you ridin’ that thing, but would you quit draggin’ your feet!”
If I could have just hibernated, woodcutting wouldn’t be necessary, and think of all the money we’d have saved.

Posted inOutside

The Best We Can Do?: The anticlimactic ending to an otherwise dynamite bowl season

The anticlimactic finish we all knew was coming.

The extra point, meaningless at this point in the game, clanked off the upright. There was a confused hush in the stadium, the television announcers fell silent and in the room in which I was watching the All-State BCS National Championship Presented by Professor Snoozington's Boredom Tonicโ„ข, I wasn't the only individual to laugh.
“That kind of sums up this entire affair,” is what uninterested parties seemed to be saying.
Trent Richardson had just rumbled 34 yards down the sideline for the only touchdown of the 120 minutes of play that LSU and Alabama had engaged in during the past two months. Finally, one of these two “defensive powerhouses” (which is code for “mind-numbingly tedious team to watch, unless you attended or live near said team”) had reached the end zone, but then the shanked extra point brought us back to a reality in which two teams from the same conference and same geographic region were playing (again) for a share in a championship that almost no one believes is actually legit.

Posted inOutside

Pity the Poor Beaver: Getting reacquainted with our state's namesake critter

Despite what University of Oregon fans say, Oregon is the beaver state.

Aside from the coyote and wolf, no other mammal – including cows – has figured so dramatically in the commercial history of the state of Oregon as the North American beaver. Wars were fought over the beaver and much of western Oregon was impacted by the trapping of these animals and the sale of their fur. So much so, in fact, that by the mid-1800s they were almost extinct because of the international demand for their pelts. It’s no wonder we are known as the Beaver State.
In the 1800s, anything that helped in making a buck in Oregon was quickly exploited, such as virgin forests, salmon and beaver. But, it's a love-hate-relationship depending on what a beaver was up to, it was (and still is) sometimes maligned for its diet of green plants that live near water, which includes precious and expensive landscaping.

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