Segue into Stupid

The photo isn’t particularly relevant to the following topic, but heck, photos are fun to look at. The strings of headlamp glow spanning a length of this lava tube cave, though, are somewhat metaphorical to the meaning of segue, a word that until a few nights ago I had a serious issue with. Yawn, whatever, but up until then I thought "segue" was spelled “segway,” and would be perplexed when I’d type the latter and see that condescending red spell check line pop up underneath. It’s just one of these trendy new buzzwords, I’d thought, the technology hasn’t caught up yet. Segue, or segway, is used almost endlessly in class discussions I’ve experienced. I thought maybe it came from the invention of those ridiculous wheeled pogo sticks that don't even bounce. It might take my intuitional confidence a while to recover after learning from the Merriam Dictionary that segue is spelled as such and dates back to 1740.


I was reading “The Amazing Buddha Boy,” by George Saunders. This is the first nonfiction thing I’d read by the funniest and wackiest short story writer out there today. The article is about the author’s journey to Nepal to witness a 15 year old boy who was reportedly surviving after spending seven months without eating or drinking, subsisting solely on meditation. Anyway, I read “segue” in the text, was nonplussed by the context (it can’t be, it musn’t, how can “way” come from “ue”?), so I looked it up. Now I just have to somehow retract any emails I’ve typed segway in…


But back to Segway, the two wheeled goof that failed to revolutionize personal transportation. I was amused and horrified to see there is actually a Segway Adventure model that “takes you off the beaten path and turns you on to the powerful thrill of nature.” It weighs 120 pounds, goes up to 12.5 miles an hour (like mountain biking without all that terrible exercise) and can go only 12 miles, off road, before needing a charge. If I am ever hiking and see an Adventure doubling the width of a lovely 12 inch trail with its preposterous existence, I’m going to, well, really I’d probably just smile and nod at the rider and then silently fantasize about stealing their Adventure and then running them over with it.

See for yourself (photo from the Segway website, as are the quote and specs above)...

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Camping on da Hood

I’ve been goofing around with making star blur images for years and finally came up with one that I’m as close to satisfied with as I’m probably going to get. This is from a camp on Mount Hood, actually, it’s only a few hundred yards up from the uppermost chairlift leaving out of Timberline Lodge. Looking down I could see the massive snow machines grooming the glacier for the next morning’s crop of brightly clad skiers, quite a contrast with the other direction, home to only rock, snow and sky. I’m often surprised at the flattening effect of a wide angle lens. I shot this image at twelve millimeters, and the vertical presence of the mountain is greatly diminished because of that. It as though the mountain was soft plastic and the ends of its ridges were pulled on until it became low and wide.

It was cold up there, well below freezing,



but aside from the fantastic view of old Hood, at sunset, eastern Portland and the Columbia River could be seen as a cozy cluster of lights (they really look that way while in the snow) and dark orange ribbon of water.

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My Good Friend's Wedding

Matt DeGuise and I have been hanging out since elementary school. Being a traitor, he left Minnesota for Denver a few years back, and I've only seen him a few times since. Matt may have left God's country for the thin-aired west, but he's still a taciturn Midwesterner by heart, or perhaps DNA. In fact, he'll go long stretches of time without speaking at all. Never enough will be said about the rounding capabilities of attraction, as Matt's new wife, Darcy, is one of the most gregarious souls I've ever met.



Last month the two of them put together the most fantastic wedding I've ever had the privilege of attending, and furthermore, photographing. They wrote their own vows for the pithy outdoor ceremony. The grub was highlighted with juicy bison tenderloin. The bar was open. There was even a touring bluegrass band, Hot Buttered Rum, playing the reception. Maybe best of all was the setting. Along a mountain river, at the foot of a 13,900 foot mountain, in the midst of fields of wildflowers, my good friends wed.


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Mountain Biking

I've been doing a fair amount of mountain biking over the last couple weeks. The raft in the photo is along the Minnesota River Bottoms trail, and was taken last fall. While riding the same trail last weekend I rode up onto a large pile of logs, and as I began rumbling down the other side veered too far askance and tumbled over me handlebars. For an instant I thought a good deal of pain was soon to be, but I landed softly on my back. The only damage was a bent brake lever.

There are some fun trails around, one in particular has a teeter-toter (Lebanon Hills). I'd never seen such a thing for a bike, but rode up the grounded end anyway, thinking, this is easy. At the top, a few feet off the ground, I paused, beginning to grow concerned until the toter teetered and I was back on the ground. Full Post»