Front Door Adventures

The Toboggan Run

2012-01-22T13:20:00.000-08:00

"It's still snowing"

Jen looked up from her magazine photos of the lush warm beaches of Vietnam.
"Cliff Mass sure got this one wrong", I said with the slightest bit of jest; I am a big fan of Cliff and he is spot on nine times out of ten. I can be forgiving, as the man IS trying to predict the weather.

"That Cliff!" Jen responded with her characteristic tight lipped smile and nod of the head, followed up quickly by a not-so-subtle hint of, "Vietnam sure looks sunny and warm."

You can take a girl out of Southern California, but you can't take Southern California out of girl, I think to myself with smile.

What was forecasted to be freezing rain continued to blanket dry white powder over North Seattle all day long. Three days into to SNOWMAGDON 2012, I was beginning to catch a bit of cabin fever and I think Jenny could tell.

"I am going to walk to the gym and work out", I announced without the least bit of enthusiasm in my voice.

"Do you wanna go out sledding with me?" Jenny responded.

The thought of getting outside with my wife for a couple hours sounded way more appealing than pull-ups and deadlifts, "You bet!"

We suited up in our best winter garb and Jen threw on the kettle for a couple of hot thermoses; we were out the Front Door in 15 minutes.

"Should we take a garbage can lid?" Jen asked as we trudged out to the street through seven inches of snow.

"Oh no, we'll just steal a sled from the neighbors; come on, follow me."

I led out the driveway and just two houses down Jen and I scored; an authentic made-in-china four foot black plastic toboggan. Escaping the scene of the crime we headed south on Phinney Ridge through neighborhoods of turn of the century craftsmen homes. Phinney Ridge runs North and South about two miles rising 300 feet out of out Greenlake to the East, and falling 350 feet to Ballard and the Puget Sound beyond to the the West. Needless to say, Phinney Ridge has some steep hills and thus prime sledding real estate when the infrequent snows come to the lowlands of the Pacific Northwest.

Two runs on the sidewalk of 79th and we bypassed a crowd of mom's screaming "that's far enough!" to ten-year old children armed with snow saucers climbing the street hill above them . Two great powder runs in an alley and we kept heading south carried by rumors of steep streets closed off from the dangers of automobile traffic.

Orange cones and a gathering of people at in the intersection of 70th and Fremont announced that we had arrived. A helmeted man cradling his two-year old daughter in his lap sped past in a saucer from the street above at 15 mph and shot downhill into the block below.

"They are going fast", I remarked with a concern in my voice. Visions of the headlines ran through my head:

North Seattle Teacher and Wife Decapitated in Phinney Ridge Sledding Accident.

Jenny nodded in silent agreement. "What do you think?"

"I think we should walk up there and just have a look" I said and commenced stomping up the steep sidewalk with toboggan in tow.

As we crested the hill and moved into the middle of the street a distinguished looking man nearer to my fathers' age than my own emerged from his garage and slowly walked into the middle of the street. He wore a thick white beard and carried a sled with railed steering. Closely behind him followed a woman I assumed to be his wife.

"I bet that thing steers well", I remarked with envy.

"She steers well", he responded dryly with quite confidence as he lay belly-down on the sled in the middle of the street. The woman followed suit and lay down on top of the man without hesitation or a flicker of emotion shown on her stoic face. She seemed to me quite bored with the whole operation as if they had been repeating this exact same ritual for the past 30 years. She plopped down on top of him and gave a little push. Off they they went.

Alone at the top of the hill we chose our line and reviewed proper safety procedures. "You go in front and try to keep your feet in; steer with your hands" I reminded Jenny, although I didn't really know what I was talking about. We settled in our plastic rocket, pointed our nose down hill and gave a little push. We picked up speed quickly and cleared the traffic circle in a block without incident and dropped through Fremont Ave into lower 70th Street; I pressed my gloved hands into compact ice to our sides as I tried to retain some semblance of control over our vehicle. Breaking my own rules, I threw my feet out of the toboggan and dug my heels in attempt to control our speed. Although my feet met the most immediate requirement of significantly reducing our velocity, it also had the unintended effect of plowing a steady stream of dirty snow and ice into Jen's face. My wife's vision is less-than-perfect to start with and my braking maneuver, while well intentioned did little more than reduce us to an uncontrolled blind plastic missile.
Although not aiming for the jump, let alone aware of its existence, we hit it squarely at about 10 mph and caught good air before we knew what was happening.
For a moment, all was well. A blink of weightless flight in the stark snowy night; how Santa must feel driving his sleigh through the crisp air of a winter eve. But unlike Santa, Jenny and I abide by the laws of gravity; we all know that what goes up, must eventually come down. I flashed back to my Lutheran Pre-School and having my chair pulled out unknowingly from underneath me by Brett Schwartzmiller as my rear slammed into the ground sending a rattle up my spine to the tip of my skull.
We pulled to a stop, stood slowly and assessed the damage. Nothing broken, but two sore asses were diagnosed for the morning!

The helmeted father and 2-year old hiked past on their way back up the hill.
"Having fun?" the father questioned cheerfully?
"Almost to much to handle", I replied as we limped off to the end of the block and headed south again. Bruised but not broken we climbed back up the ridge, through Woodland Park Zoo and over the bridges spanning Highway 99 into upper Woodland Park.

The Norman Rockwell scene opened in front of us. Everywhere people sledding and skiing; un-leashed dogs running about playing in the snow; the laughter of children of all ages warming the frozen air.

Veterans of our novices experiences and much wiser now, we loaded back on the on the Toboggan and readied our hands as breaks. A small push and we descended through the crowded field into the quite wood enjoying a blissful half mile run nearly all the way to Greenlake.

On our stomp back home Jen remarked:

"It sure is nice to be outside on the streets without any cars."

"It sure is Jen, it sure is."

As I sit and write, the rains that are typical of the Northwest winter persistently tap the skylight above me and wash away the last of the snow that crippled Seattle not four days ago. Power will soon return to those who are without, schools will re-open and the snowplows will be parked indefinitely.
What strikes me the most about winter storms in Seattle is the direct correlation between the decreased use of the automobile and increased amount of social interaction between members of our community. In the grocery store I overheard a woman explain to a friend how she had lived on the same street for ten years and only this week, due to the snow, met neighbors who reside just three houses away.
I too spent more time interacting with the people on my own block than I have in months.

I am happy to be headed back to work tomorrow, but must say that I like my city more when the unlikely convergence of arctic air and pacific moisture slows us down a little and forces us all to live just a little closer to our own Front Door.

That's how I roll,

Matt

Despite her innocent appearance, my wife is a hardened criminal. We would have asked, but no one was home at the the Lawson's.

Fleeing the scene of the crime.

Hot wings and a cold beer on a winter day? To tell you the truth, it never really sounds (or smells) that good to me at any time of the year.

The second run on 79th was significantly faster than the first.

Jenny is a good sport and still smiling despite the bruised tailbone.

Follow the arrows to Woodland Park.

"The Hiker"stands as a tribute and memorial to the U.S. solider's who served and died in the Spanish-America Wars.

Snowman and the Baboons.

Upper Woodland Park; a winter wonderland!

Progress continues at a slow, but steady place here at our Front Door. I really enjoy coming home to a cozy fire after the dark wet rides of my Seattle winter.

That's How I Roll

2011-12-24T00:26:00.000-08:00

I had always imagined it as a summer adventure, but when the benevolent high pressure gods and the little Apple device that seems to run my life aligned for the winter solstice, I had to move the Mount Si project forward a few months. I explained the logistics of the plan to Jenny she just shook her head and smiled. She has learned that protest and logic have little impact on my decision making processes and that going on my little adventures makes me an easier person to live with.

That's just how you roll Matt, was all she could say.

4:30 am comes pretty early to a guy on vacation, but a little self-doubt can do wonders for a fellow's motivation. Something that climbing has taught me over the years is that you're much less likely to epic if your adventure ends before darkness falls. When you are tired, cold and hungry, lack of daylight always seems to confound the situation further. Armed with such wisdom and only about eight hours of daylight on the shortest day of the year, I departed from the Front Door in Greenwood with a pound of homemade fudge and two beers at the unpleasant hour of 5 am. Regardless of how this one turned out, I knew I was going to get lots of practice riding in the dark and wanted to be back on familiar ground when the sun went down.

I arrive at the end of I-90 bike path in Issaquah at 7am after pedaling east for two hours in the icy darkness of the Seattle winter solstice. The temperatures dropped steadily into the high 20's as I climbed out of the layer of marine fog that enveloped the city, across Lake Washington and through the urbanized foothills of Bellevue towards the Cascade Mountains. Previous FDA's had brought me this far before and while certainly not lost, I really don't know how to get to where I want to go next.

My Dad Jim always says it is better to be lucky than good, and I am certainly more the former than the latter. As I pull over into the IHOP parking lot to check my map and regroup, I nearly run into a cyclist that I quickly size up as member of the Seattle Ranonneurs Bicycle Club. I wipe the frozen snot from my face and politely ask to be pointed in the right direction of the Issaquah-Preston Trail. Despite having just completed the 200 km Solstice Ride, Bill gladly went out of his way to guide me to the trailhead on his way home. Bicycle culture is rich with people willing to pay the kindness forward and assist other two-wheel travelers.

Pavement soon gives way to a dirt path and frozen mud puddles as I pedal into a rising sun that burns through the tall evergreens throwing off a haze of vapor into the cold blue sky of a perfect winter morning. Moments like these make all the work worth-while and reminds me that reward often only comes with great effort. The Issaquah-Preston Trail connects to the Preston-Snoqualmie Trail and I soon find myself climbing steeply around Lake Alice into a strong headwind blowing out of the Southeast. I pick up the Snoqualmie Valley Trail, put my head down and push into the shadow of Mount Si. A little to my surprise I arrive at the trailhead right on schedule at 10 am.

I swap shoes, hydrate, choke down some more fudge and begin my 4000 foot stomp up the Mount Si trail. In less than two hours I dump my trekking poles at the base of the summit pyramid known as the haystack and carefully scrambled the last 300 feet rock to the summit. In the summer conditions the haystack is a straight-forward class 3 scramble, however the melt-freeze cycle of the winter has plastered a layer of compact snow and verglas over the rock. I keep repeating the mantra don't f**k up as I carefully climb, brushing snow and ice off of holds and sticking the rubber on my shoes to the areas of dry rock.

I pull the final feet to the summit smearing my feet on the icy rock as the steep west face of Si falls a thousands of feet under me to the Snoqualmie River Valley. I sit at the summit for a couple minutes and take it all in. Mount Rainier dominates to the south, the Olympics fill skyline 100 miles to the west, the skyscrapers of the Seattle are still barely visible through the winter haze as the sun hangs low in the southern sky. This isn't this first time I have stood on the top of Mount Si and likely won't be the last, but this one gets etched a little deeper in my brain. Maybe it's the blue in the sky or the bite in the air. Maybe it's the sting in my frozen fingers or the deep ache of fatigue settling in my legs. Or maybe it's because this way of doing things feels pure, clean and sustainable.

The truth is it's all of these that make this moment special. I won't say it's the easiest or quickest way of getting to top of something, but I certainly find it to be the richest. Like my wife says it's just how I like to roll, and it brings me a deep sense of joy and satisfaction.

The breeze picks up and I am snapped back to reality as the sweat on my body chills, running a shiver up my spine. Halfway there I remind myself as I throw my pack over my shoulders and set off retracing my steps back home to my Front Door.

That's how I roll,

Matt

With ample sugar and fat, fudge makes a pretty darn good endurance fuel. In addition, eating a pound of it in a single day will leave an aversion to Holiday Cookies until Christmas 2012.

The other kind of fun.

I was really amazed at the ease and relative safety of traveling from Seattle into the Cascade Mountains by bicycle. Part of the Mountain to Sounds Greenway, nearly the entire route to Mount Si is on designated bike/pedestrian paths or shared use roadways. Truly a classic FDA!

The Issaquah-Preston Trail parallels I-90 with 7 miles of gravel connecting the City of Issaquah to High Point Way.

The Preston-Snoquamie Trail is a 7-mile paved regional trail that is also part of the regional Mountain to Sound Greenway.

Mount Si from the town of Snoqualmie.

The Snoqualmie Valley Trail is a 31.5 mile crushed gravel that connects to the cross-state John Wayne Pioneer Trail.

Mount Si Trailhead

Although we have had one of driest Decembers on record here in the Pacific NW, we are still at 80% of our normal snow pack. The trail up Si is mostly snow covered from 2500 feet onward.

Mount Rainier: FDA Summer 2012

Eastern front of the Olympic Mountain Range with the skyscrapers of Seattle barely visible center right

Snowman, my constant companion.

The question mark tree.

D brought the hounds up to Si for the day and we met on the trail for an early afternoon beer. Darren likes beer too.

The last 20 miles of the day were difficult, but honestly one of the best parts about endurance events is the head space that it puts you in. I snapped this photo on the I-90 bridge and the scene captures well how I was feeling at the moment. Tired and focussed with the end near, sights and sounds start to to blur into one as you retreat inward to the singular task in front of you: keep spinning.

A fine recovery meal by Russian River Brewing.

A am a simple man. Meat, cheese, bread and greens.

Back in the Saddle

2011-12-04T19:53:00.001-08:00

Front Door Adventures has been pretty quite for the last couple of months; work, house projects and bad weather have kept me close to home and truthfully, at times living my life more or less by bike really doesn't inspire much creative writing in me. It is not that I haven't been riding my bike, I get up every morning and pedal to one of my jobs and try to avoid getting killed in a city where bike infrastructure and sustainable transportation in general lags decades behind cities like Portland and Munich. I thought about a blog entry titled, "What in the hell am I trying to prove anyhow?", but thought better of it. While readers of Front Door Adventures know that I like to exhort the virtue of both commuting and recreating by bicycle, I have to admit that sometimes it can kind of suck. I still strongly believe that embracing a little suffering in life ultimately provides one a Reference Point from which to recognize and appreciate comfort; but I also certainly understand how the gray, wet and cold misery of November in the Pacific Northwest can get to even the most optimistic of bicycle affectionado. It can be hard to find joy in thirty-nine degrees and rainy.

Yet I persevere, I ride through the rain, sleet and traffic because it makes me feel better about my life not to have my car shoved up my ass, and like Ghandi said We must be the change we want to see in the world.

Just when I am about to give up hope, historic high pressure returns to the Northwest and and a perfect cold, crisp winter day invites. My friend Darin came down from Bellingham this weekend and hopped in on a FDA from Seattle to the top of Tiger Mountain with only the slightest of apprehension (How do we get to Issaquah without riding on the freeway?"). Despite working 60 plus hour weeks for months and never having ridden a bike more than 30 miles in a day, Darin handled the the 50 mile ride and 7 mile stomp up and down 2500 feet of elevation gain in fine style. It was really nice to be using my bike for an adventure again and great to have a buddy along for the ride. I had almost forgot how fulfilling going on a human powered adventure could be!

Livin' the Dream

Matt

Darin, feeling like many vitamin D deficient NW residents as we emerge out of the trees and above the clouds on the West Summit of Tiger Mountain.

Darin Berdinka is my climbing hero and my friend. He is also on the cutting edge of outdoor fashion.

The High School Trail begins behind Issaquah High School and climbs steeply on an unmaintained trail to join the Section Line Trail and on to the the West Tiger Summit.

Not very warm.

Summer 2012: FDA to the top of Mount Rainer.

The city of Bellevue above Lake Washington. Glacier Peak on the far left of the photo.

Movember has come to it's sad end. My Stach is better than last year, but not quite respectable enough for full time wear yet.

Recovery meal by Ninkasi Brewing Company, Eugene, OR.

Sleep Over

2011-09-17T23:58:00.000-07:00

The Fabritius Boys came for a sleep-over with Aunt Jenny and me a couple weeks ago. It is likely that at some point in history our 101 year old 500 hundred square foot home housed a family of four rather comfortably, but times have changed and so have children. At 4 1/2 and 2 1/2 Carter and Taylor are busy, curious, and constantly asserting themselves as individuals as they seek their place in the world. That is nice-speak for they are both completely nuts!

Jen and I kept the boys on the run and showed them how we get around in the city and have fun doing it. We took a bus ride and an urban hike to the best park in North Seattle. We walked to the local Elementary school made up some games with a baseball bat, a rubber chicken, and a Nerf ball. We took a bike ride to the lake and went for a swim. Aside from a few time-outs, scraped hands, backward diapers (my fault) and flying shoes, the weekend went smoothly and I had a really great time with my nephews. I hope they enjoyed the time with me as well.

The more time I spend with these boys that I love so dearly, the more I respect and honor people who make the commitment to bringing children up in this crazy world. Parenting is the ultimate in self-sacrifice and the most courageous and introspective adventure anyone can ever embark on. I respect those who are brave enough to walk the path and I am thankful that my sister trusts me enough to let me be a part of my nephews' lives.

Livin' the Dream

Matt

Pit stop at Carkeek Park in North Seattle. The boys both walked over 4 miles without complaint from the bus stop on Greenwood and Holman the Puget Sound.

When you're this cute, you get a ride from a sucker now and then!

Rock art was an unforeseen big hit with Carter. I watched him lift a stone equal his body weight, carry it 20 feet plop it down on the patio and begin madly scribbling rainbows of chalk. Stone after stone was carried, colored and lifted to display on Grandpa Bench.

Carter, preparing for the Art Show.

A well designed developmentally appropriate play structure at the Greenwood Elementary playground. Notice that the design of he structure is conducive to the body geometry of a two year old child. According to Dr. Larry Bruya of Washington State University, level of challenge must be be equal or slightly higher to the skill level of participant to retain attention and encourage play. Taylor threw himself at this balance and coordination implement over and over for nearly 15 minutes. He begged to stay longer, but Carter called Code Brown and lunch was ready at home.

Aunt Jenny's homemade smoothies are good.

Not to sure about the ride in the chariot to Greenlake.

Attitudes improved dramatically after a swim and an ice cream.

Proof.

Lucky

2011-09-17T23:49:00.000-07:00

Among my many marital duties is planning Jenny's and my annual anniversary adventure. While it is true that this trip has historically included a sufficient amount exercise, I hardy think it deserves the "Jenny proves she is tough enough to be married to Matt another year trip" designation it has come to be known by among Jenny's co-workers and friends. I guess that time Jenny got a moderate case of Rhabdomyolysis on a climbing trip and hobbled around work for a week left lasting impression. That which does not kill us make us stronger.

I have become wise over our four years of marriage and learned that what is fun to me is not always fun to my lovely wife, and planned this year's outing accordingly. The first Adventure Cycling Magazine I ever picked up listed the Canadian Gulf Islands as one of the best bike tour destinations in the world. Being within easy striking distance of our home in Seattle, the islands quickly moved to the top of the Front Door Adventure tick list.

While a cyclist could easily spend a month exploring this beautiful and unique archipelago, Jen and I were limited to 5 days by the constraints of time (damn those jobs!). Without too much of a plan, we caught the Victoria Clipper in Seattle and were deposited on Vancouver Island three short hours later. Despite being the most expensive aspect of the trip, the convenience of not having to deal with car was well worth every penny paid. The best thing about traveling by bike from home is that you are on vacation the second you lock your front door and hop in the saddle.

The Gulf Islands certainly lived up to their reputation and did not disappoint in any way. Jen and I spent five sunny days riding, eating, drinking and getting to know each other a little better. My Dad always told me it is better to be lucky than good, and I certainly got lucky when it comes the woman I married. Beyond beautiful, kind and smart, Jen is tough as nails and an excellent companion both at home and on the road.

Livin' the Dream

Matt

Built in Bergen, Norway the Clipper IV catamaran can reach speeds of 30 knots. The 5 am start and gray Seattle skies produced such inspiring photography as seen above.

The Galloping Goose Regional Trail starts less than 1 km from the Clipper terminal and begins a network of regional bike trails that connect Victoria to Sydney BC and the Gulf Island Ferry Terminal at Schwartz Bay.

The Galloping Goose Trail gives way the Lockside Regional Trail, a network of paved and gravel paths, bike lanes and shared use roads. 35 km of care-free, low-traffic pedaling!

Fulford Harbor, Salt Spring Island.

Ruckle Provincial Park on Saltspring Island. With over 75 walk-in/bike-in sites on the water, an operating farm and clean toilets, Ruckle is popular destination for cyclists and families alike.

Although my wife is a trained chef, cooking by the Jetboil is an art born out of experience. The time I spent living in my truck has really paid dividends in my life. Jenny enjoying steamed cous cous with fresh zucchini, salmon and Parmesan. Bon apatite!

Many artists call Saltspring Island Home. Roadside Toad was my personal favorite piece.

The original Green Roof.

Despite being nearly 100 miles north of Seattle, Saltsping Island enjoys over 85 days of sunshine a year. Often the Gulf Islands are referred to as "Canada's Banana Belt". Jenny enjoying ripe blackberries the second week in August, a full month before we do in Seattle.

You can't go far on Saltspring without running into a roadside stand of fresh produce or home baked treats.

I bought Jenny a peanut butter ball that was almost as big as her head!

Another rainy day on traffic congested roads with terrible scenery.

Jenny loves it when I grab her bottom rib.

My soon to be released sports nutrition book will be titled Bread, Butter, Beer, Bacon and Coffee: Your Path to Nutritional Salvation.

Oh yeah, eggs too.

After two days on Saltspring, we hopped a Ferry to Galiano Island.

Jenny enjoying the view from Bodega Ridge Provincial Park, Galiano Island.

Spotlight Cove, Galiano Island.

Retreat Cove, Galiano Island.

Laughlin Lake Reserve, Galiano Island. An unmarked trail led us through a 1/4 mile of swamp grass to the largest body of fresh water on Galiano, Island.

At first I thought that the ground was covered with crickets, but closer inspection revealed thousands of tiny frogs so thick that one had to be cautious of stepping on them as you walked.

The Hummingbird Pub on Galiano operates a school bus shuttle service between Montague Harbour and the center of commerce on the island free of charge. Smart Business!

While Victoria is a great place, something about the city makes me a little uptight. Beer makes everything better.

Chinatown, Victoria BC.

Off into the sunset., Victoria B.C.

7 Perfect Days

2011-08-05T16:15:00.000-07:00

As I sit here and try to organize my thoughts, I struggle to find the language to adequately describe the magical seven days I recently spent adventuring on the Olympic Peninsula. While I would like to say that the experience simply transcends words, my shortcomings in the use of the english language in prose is the more likely culprit.

Climbers are a funny bunch and I like 'em a lot. Heck, I even tried to identify as one for a good chunk of my life, and still do to some extent. I have found climbers to be pretty good folks for the most part. They generally value their health, the great outdoors and a cold beer at the end of the day; I hold all these things dear to my heart as well.

It wasn't that long ago that being a great climber was so important to me that I thought nothing of hopping in my truck and driving hours to Index, Leavenworth or the North Cascades for a day of climbing to return home the same day. Somewhere in the past couple years my attitude started to change a little. Maybe I read too much Kuntsler, Friedman & Heinberg, or maybe the thought that my nieces and nephews might someday have a chance to walk on glacier in the North Cascades became much more important to me than climbing 5.11.

Now I know what your saying because I say it to myself all the time.

One guy out there riding a bike with a bunch of crap strapped on it is a drop in the bucket overall C02 emissions. Climate change is happening regardless, and putting yourself at risk on a bike isn't going to change that.

Really can't argue but to say that I am not trying to reduce my footprint; it really is insignificant in the whole scheme of things. Nor I am trying to recruit an army of beer swigging bicycle alpinists (not a bad idea though), to with roam the mountains. I just hope that people might wrap their heads around the idea that if a physically ordinary individual like myself can climb Mt. Olympus using a bike, boots and a bucket of calories, maybe using a bike to run some errands close to home shouldn't be out of the question.

Change one mind and change the world.

Livin' the Dream,

Matt

I use my Surly Long Haul Trucker for everything, but had it built by the fine gentlemen at Second Ascent with adventuring in mind. Loaded with full gear for general mountaineering.

Good clean high calorie livin'!

Jametown S'Klallam Tribal Center, Sequim, WA.

The Spruce Railroad Trail hugs the north shore of Lake Crescent and bypasses 11 miles of a shoulder-less Highway 101. Rideable with full touring gear for all of but a single mile, the trail eventually deposits you at at an unmarked gate across from the Sol Duck Hot Springs Road.

The view for lunch was more than worth the effort!

Forks Washington. This once a booming logging town has been forced to diversify it's local economy largely in response to the environmental movement. Forks has recently experienced a boom in tourism associated with the The Twilight Series by Stephanie Meyer.

Sean Nordquist, partner extrordinaire taking his cough medicine. A couple days before our trip, Sean came down with a respiratory infection and was unable to ride with me. Despite the steady flow of green & yellow mucus, Sean rallied and met me at the Hoh River on his Royal Enfield.

MAF Sandwich: one tortilla, two tablespoons of Sunflower Butter, one whole dried banana and a squirt of honey.

The incredible and edible dandelion.

Photo: Sean Nordquist

I had always heard horror stories about the death march into Glacier Meadows enroute to Mount Olympus. I found the walk up the Hoh River Trail through an ancient rainforest to be one of the most pleasurable day hikes I have ever done.

We woke to light rain and brewed and extra coffee for motivation. Not 500 feet above camp we emerged from a thin layer of clouds into another world.

High on the Blue Glacier.

Photo: Jesse Salk

Photo: Sean Nordquist

The edge of the high bergschrund on the 4th of July Route.

Jesse and his fiance Sarah over the schrund and on to the steep upper slope.

Photo: Jesse Salk

Taking pictures of taking pictures.

The route description assigns the rock scramble to the summit of Mount Olympus as YDS Class 4. I concur with the rating save two moves of low 5th Class climbing. Due to poor rock quality and bad fall consequence, I recommend the use of rope for those not confident in their rock climbing ability. A few large nuts or hexes would protect the crux of the route adequately.

220 miles down, 220 miles to go! Summit in the clouds.

Photo: Jesse Salk

Big clouds. Little people. Big glacier.

Photo: Sean Nordquist

The sphincter of the Blue Glacier. Notice the upper slope collapsing and subsequent emission of rock and ice debris at the foot of the icefall. It is likely that someday this will be a large amphitheater with a waterfall cascading through the center.

Sean is excited about our delux accomadations at Glacier Meadows.

Photo: Sean Nordquist

At 85 mpg fuel economy, the motorcycle is a pretty good option for transportation as well.

The Bigfoot for Brunch. Hard Rain Cafe Forks, WA.

Photo: Sean Nordquist

Posted along the shoulder-less portion of 101 around Lake Crescent, this button activates a flashing warning sign alerting drivers that cyclists are on the road. Despite the unfavorable shoulder and limited sight distance on the road, I didn't feel overly exposed due to slowed traffic. The Spruce Railroad Trail is a longer and safer option if you don't mind pushing your bike a bit.

Upper left: Marco, Lucia, Sierra
Lower left: Josh, Sharah & Kenji

Hospitality defined. I met Josh and Sharah on the Edmonds-Kingston Ferry. They were on bikes and looked pretty friendly so I chatted them up for a few minutes on the boat ride. They kindly offered me a place to crash and I took them up on the offer passing through Port Angeles on my way home. They let me crash their garden party, fed me and took me in for the night. The bicycle affords unique social opportunities that the automobile simply cannot offer.

This is a 1000-pound chunk of granite on top of a 12 foot tree stump. Loggers are artist too!

Hard to believe that I clean-up enough to be trusted with children. Aboard the Spokane and near a shower, shave, a cold beer and a cute wife.

Patriotism

2011-07-09T21:32:00.000-07:00

On July 4th 1776 the Second Continental Congress of the 13 Colonies signed the Declaration of Independence from Great Britain and the United States of America was born. Men such as Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Benjamin Franklin were the first patriots of our Nation and guided a young country through the turmoil of a revolution that emerged as the greatest experiment in Democracy this world has ever known.

Sadly, today it seems that the definition of a patriot has been diluted to hanging a Support the Troops sticker in the back window of an SUV and celebrating the death of America's most hated enemies by dancing in the street. Never mind the direct connection between the gas pedal and our ever expanding theater of world conflict. I too am glad Bin Laden is ridden from this earth, but I won't rejoice as if no more American men and women will die before the world struggles to remember what al-Qaeda was.

I don't know whether my political and social values would align with those of any of the men who built the United States, but I do know that the country we inherited from them is ours to do with as we wish. I like to think that I am a pretty patriotic guy, I just happen think that living a little smaller is a quicker way to get our troops home and the best way to preserve the future of our Great Nation. We could of course keep fighting never ending wars for what remains of the world's dwindling resources.

Last week I rode my bike to the local hardware store and bought a 48' American Flag. I hung Old Glory on the fence near the front door before the 2nd of July BBQ Jen and I threw at the house; It got different reactions from different folks.

A southern drawn "Goddamn right I'm American", in some form or another came out of more than one mouth besides my own.

In every joke lies a seed of truth.

We all like think that our world view is the correct one, but not all of us sit down and write about it. I tell things like I see them and hope a few people out there might see things the same. I noticed one of my neighbors put an American Flag up on their house the day after I flew mine. Who knows...maybe they see things like I do?

Livin' the Dream,

Matt

Support your local hardware store. Since 1948, Greenwood Hardware has been operating in Greenwood, WA.

Shopping Basket.

I took a 4th of July ride up to Snohomish to hang out with my Dad. The Interurban is truly an awesome trail system and a great example of cities and counties working together to create bike infrastructure and transportation solutions. Not perfect yet, and a little difficult to follow in a couple places, but 35 miles of nearly uninterrupted urban trail riding from Seattle to Everett is pretty rad!

Like I said, not quite perfect yet. This section from the King/Snohomish County line to 228th St SW in unincorporated Snohomish Country is scheduled for completion in 2011.

None too soon for this resident of 74th Ave West. Mike gave me a little background information on this particular portion of the trail and pointed me in the right direction.

The American Legion Post in Snohomish, WA. The American Legion was chartered by Congress in 1919 as a patriotic veteran organization devoted to mutual helpfulness.

I met Kevin in Lynnwood and road with him for 35 miles. I convinced him to backtrack to Snohomish with me so he could ride the Centennial Trail north to Arlington.

My Dad Jim is a craftsman in every sense of the word. He hand built this replica of a 1780-1790 Southern Appalachian Flintlock Rifle and gifted it to me. How else to spend the 4th of July than shooting the weapon that won The Revolutionary War.

Hand-made steel plating.

50 yards is a pretty long ways for a black powder rifle.

Powder...

..wad, ball...

...ram...

...catalyst...

...bang!

Nothing says "Happy Birthday America" like a red, white and blue Budweiser. You won't catch me turning down a cold buddy on hot summer day! No beer snob am I!

The South Brother

2011-06-29T21:39:00.000-07:00

My longtime friend and climbing companion Alan Kearney generously donated several photos for this post. Check out his website and blog here.

I count Alan Kearney as one of my mentors in the mountains. Alan took me on big trips when I was a really green climber and taught me things that have kept me alive over the years. I feel lucky if I can tick off a trip with all my buddies over the course of a summer, and Alan & I have a long history of making cool trips happen year after year.

Alan, being supportive of my Front Door Adventures project agreed to drive down from Bellingham and meet me for an attempt of the Brother Traverse in the Skokomish-Duckabush Group of the Olympic Mountain Range. This double summitted peak was named by Captian George Davidson of the United States Coast Survey in honor of Arthur and Edward Fauntleroy and climbed first in 1912 (Mountaineers, 2006). History tells it that Davidson was courting the Fauntleroy's younger sisters and wished to make an impression on their older brothers.

After a Seattle-to-Bremerton Ferry ride across The Sound, I pedaled SW around the tip of Hood Canal and North again on Highway 101 to the Hamma Hamma River Road. An 8-mile climb to the trailhead found Alan, fresh off a ski descent off Mount Townsend sipping beers. "Greetings Young Matt! ", Alan called from his perch on the tailgate as I rolled to a stop and wiped the sweat from my brow. A cold beer was soon consumed, and possibly a second, but who is counting.

Favorable June weather windows in the Great Pacific NW can unfortunately be short lived. Such being the case, one wishing to climb any of the fine summits of this great state must retain a certain amount of flexibility as the weather dictates the success of any mountaineering adventure to a large extent. Over dinner & alpine mojito's Alan I discussed the impending poor weather and agreed to forgo our Brother's Traverse scheme and go light for a single push on the standard route of the South Brother. The sleeping bag called loudly as the mountain darkness crept down the valley from the west and the 65 mile approach ride sunk in to my bones.

A 4 am alarm, coffee & muffins by headlamps, the stiffness of the approach ride ebbed as we set a steady pace towards Lena Lake. The Hemlock Trees towered through the switchbacks and repelled the light of the rising eastern sun; you have to earn your views in the Olympics as few hikes start anywhere near the 5000 foot tree line. We hit steady snow at 3000 feet and avalanche paths of 24" diameter trees snapped like toothpicks a little further beyond; nature is a powerful force. Long open slopes of snow beckoned from above.

Kick a step...rest...kick a step...rest....kick a step...rest...3000 feet of steep snow climbing as menacing clouds blew in & out offering a tease of the spectacular views the surrounding mountains offer. At noon, Alan and I stood in wind jackets and stocking caps on the 6,842 Summit of the South Brother 7 hours and 6,100 feet after we began our march. We couldn't see much, but I didn't really care; I was happy to be outside and on the top of something in the company of a friend.

Back at camp we drank more whiskey. Tall tales grew taller as the bottle got emptier and afternoon waned to evening. I retired to the tent and read an article that Alan gave me about the impending doom climate change will have on civilization as we know it. Being in the mountains reminds me that we are small and our time here is short. I am going to do my best to tread lightly while I am here, but the valley I walked up today was buried in ice less-than 20,000 years ago and it will fill with ice again someday. All of these things will come to pass and I am just thankful to have spent a few days stomping around the hills with my good friend Alan.

Livin' the Dream,

Matt

On the tick list for and FDA.

I have a long way to go! Hood Canal and the Olympics Mountains in the far distance.

The word "approach" in Mountaineering usually refers to the portion of the trip where you leave pavement to the beginning of technical climbing. Front Door Adventures defines "approach" from the minute you leave your house to the beginning of technical climbing. Alan Kearney shot this photo of me at the end my 7o mile approach.

Tastes like PBR...darn good after a long ride!

Up...

and up...

and up just a little further.

Summits in June, you take what you can get!

Our successful ascent was celebrated with a couple of Hagen Alpine Mojitos...

and my backcountry specialty; salmon and vegetable couscous.

Alan! Our fearless leader!

Homeward bound with a good omen ahead.

Monkey Dick Sandwich. Don't knock it until you try it!

While brewing a coffee at Potlatch State Park, and elderly gentleman approached me and chatted me up about my bike and where I was going and what I was doing. As we departed he reached in his lapel pocket and handed me a card "This could come in useful", he said and turned to walk away. I looked down and the card and was surprised to see he had handed me his Wednesday appointment card for a colonoscopy. "Excuse me sir, ah..I think you may need this", I said as I handed him back his appointment reminder. Slightly embarrassed he rooted through is pockets and produced another card reminding me of all that Jesus has done for me. Obviously he didn't know that I am both an Ordained Minister and The Gift of God.

Knowing that the World is full of lost souls in need of direction, I stashed the card in a Geocach site I found at the Historic Dalby Waterwheel on Hood Canal.

Built in 1924 the Historic Dalby Waterwheel on Hood Canal produced electricity for the Dalby home and several cabins into the 1940s. Through a volunteer effort the wheel was restored and relocated to it's current location in 2006.

What is one to do with an hour to kill waiting for a ferry?

Mnt. Townsend

2011-06-26T19:42:00.000-07:00

What a stupid goddamned idea.....one thousand feet into the three thousand foot climb up Forest Service Road 25 to the Mnt. Townsend trailhead I really began to rethink my brilliant idea of using my bike to go climbing in the mountains. At the end of the day, it is just a whole bunch of hard work to get things done in good style.

The Eastern Peaks of the Olympic Mountain Range tower proudly over the Puget Sound and are clearly visible from Sunset Hill Park near my home in Greenwood. A couple weeks ago I raced my bike west in the evening light of clear spring night to catch a sun setting over the Olympics and sip on a lukewarm Ranger IPA. I hatched a stupid plan; to bag all the peaks visible from this point using my bike. I crushed my beer can against my head, pedaled home and ordered a copy of Olympic Mountains: A Climbing Guide. Despite the fact that I have been climbing mountains at a reasonable standard for the past 12 years, I had never reached the summit of a peak in the Olympics. Might as well make things interesting, eh?

The original objective for the weekend, the Buckhorn Mountain Traverse was abandoned due to a sick partner, an unseasonably high snow pack and more honestly to many Friday night beers. A late start and a 60 mile ride culminating with a 3000 foot climb deposited me at the Mnt. Townsend Trailhead in the late afternoon. A quick repack and bike stash found me stomping up the intermittently snow covered trail as the afternoon turned to evening.

As darkness approached and the fog closed in, I found a reasonably flat spot to lay my bag down for the night. Consistent with the classic NW weather inversion, as the the sun went down and the air cooled, the clouds sank into the valleys and left the peaks the of the Olympics perched under a clear star-filled night.

I woke to near freezing temperatures at 5 am and booted a path over untrodden snow to the 6,280 foot summit of Mnt. Townsend. Despite being one of the most visited summits in the range, today I was alone and felt the solitude I sought pedaling out of the city less than 24 hour before.

I don't know how long it will take me to reach all of my Sunset Park Summits, but I know that I will reach all of them by bike and be a little tougher for the process.

Livin' the Dream,

Matt

Kit for the adventure. I added a pint of whiskey for emergencies...such as waking up in the morning.

Mass transit is fair game in the FDA, plus Washington State Ferries are just pretty cool.

Time and distance have a little different meaning on the Olympic Peninsula. The "Welcome Sign" is about 12 miles out of town.

They forgot to mention the 3000 feet of elevation gain.

...and rednecks with firearms.

Salvation!

Wandering around on the snow by myself in the evening fog convinced me that I should probably sit tight until morning.

A couple minutes after a crawled in my bivy sack the clouds began to drop...

to reveal clear skies and a bright half moon.

Sunrise was OK. A sea of clouds over the Hood Canal and the Puget Sound.

Left to right: Mount Jupiter, Mount Constance and Buckhorn Mountains from the summit of Mnt. Townsend.

Cloudy with a chance of drizzle at sea level, splitter at 6 k!

I wore my special Reno Card Dealer shirt for the summit shot.

I am pretty sure this includes me.

Beer beats water for hydration!

Pit stop at the Hood Canal Brewery.

Next stop: Edmonds Washington.

A Walk in Greenwood

2011-06-24T16:28:00.000-07:00

A Front Door Adventure is just like it sounds; an adventure that leaves from your front door. The rules are simple, don't take a car and see what you can get done using human power and mass transit. Although most of my Front Door Adventures employ the use of a bicycle, going by foot truly embodies the spirt of the FDA in every sense of the word. Not only is walking beneficial to our health, or pocketbooks and the environment; it offers an opportunity for freedom, fun and spontaneity that the car just cannot present.

Walk Score is a website that rates the walkability of your home based on proximity to amenities such as groceries, entertainment, medical facilities, parks and public transportation. While our 500 square foot home might seen unreasonable small, with a Walk Score of 92 out of 100 it sits in one of the most walkable communities in the United States. I won't pretend that there are not some real disadvantages to living in the city, but a huge plus is that it allows us to live a life that is not dependent upon an automobile.

Livin' the Dream

Matt

My sister dropped Carter off with only one request, "Don't let him get sunburned." We both stripped to the waist and greased up for the day.

Carter was more interested in working on the Trek Mt. Train than he was riding it. Half-way around the block, Carter politely let me know that he was done with the bike ride. An early negative experience with a new challenge can jade a young mind easily and a child should never be pushed too far beyond their comfort zone. Carter and I will go on a ride when he is ready and I look forward to that day. An opportunity for an adventure by foot was born, the bike was parked and the proclamation made, "We walk from here!"

Two blocks from the house Carter decided that we should sit down and have a feast. We split a granola bar and drank water from the Nalgene. Carter spun around in circles.

Although it makes me almost sick to watch, spinning in circles is critical to proper vestibular stimulation and brain development in children. This type of activity allows the brain to integrate sensory information from the environment in the development of proprioception.

Top Ten Toys in Greenwood is the coolest store in the world for kids of all ages.

Knights, dragons and wild imaginations!

Just like his Dad, his Grandpa and his Uncle Matt, Carter likes going to the Bar! Carter's first (root)beer at The Naked City.

Great day with a great guy! Thanks Cartman!

Beer Bike

2011-06-12T19:15:00.000-07:00

Beer Bike

noun

1. A bike dedicated solely to the purpose of acquiring and/or consuming beer.

"Nice Beer Bike man, looks good with the custom 6-pack front basket."

verb

1. The act of bicycling with the primary objective being the acquisition and/or consumption of beer. One must not necessarily own a dedicated Beer Bike to participate in a Beer Bike, in fact any bike will do just fine.

"Honey, would you like to go on a Beer Bike next weekend?"

Two of my favorite things, beer and bicycles, are truly a natural fit. You see, riding a bicycle to often will make a guy to skinny, and drinking beer to often without a little exercise will make a guy fat. Put em' together and your're just a fit and jolly fella!

Bare with me as a I geek out for the next few minutes.

Invented in 1864 by French carriage maker Ernest Michaux, the modern bicycle is the most efficient form of human powered transportation ever invented. A human being can travel at 10-15 mph on a bicycle with the same energy output required to walk at 3-5 mph. In terms of the ratio of cargo weight a bicycle can carry to total weight, it is also the most efficient means of cargo transportation. The bicycle has changed little in the last 150 years.

Beer is what I consider and energy positive beverage. At 200 kilocalories a serving and high in carbohydrates, a decent quality IPA doesn't really qualify as a health drink, but it tastes pretty damn good warm or cold. Besides, beer outdates Jesus and that pretty much makes it sacred.

All these interesting facts naturally lead one to pose the question, "How many beers does it take to power a bicycle?" Assuming clinical conditions controlled for additional caloric intake and ideal riding surface, this is really a simple math equation.

We can use the constant of .28 kcalories a mile per pound of rider assuming travel on flat firm ground. When I plug myself into this simple equation it looks like this:

.28kcal (Calories) x number of miles ridden x 160 pounds = total energy cost in kcal

Assuming a ride of 50 miles:

.28 kcal x 50 miles x 160=2240 kcals or roughly the equivalent of 11.2 cans IPA.

If we wanted to state this in mpg of beer we would need to convert our 11.2 twelve ounce cans into gallons:

11.2 cans x 12 oz/can = 134.4 oz/128 oz = 1.o5 gallons of beer

Divide that into our theoretical distance of 50 miles:

50 miles/1.05 gallons = 47.62 mile per gallon of beer

To tell you truth, I like the math problems but don't really care about the milage. You see, the most important thing is that Jen and like to get on our bikes and hunt down a beer or two at some cool place that we have never been and then ride back home. I get to hang out with my cute wife, exercise and drink beer all on the same day! Truly, I am living the dream!

It is pretty fun to go on a Beer Bike and there is probably one to be had in your neighborhood!

Maybe you should find out?

Livin' the Dream

Matt

More than one great day has started right here at the Wild Mountain Cafe in Greenwood. Serving one of the best breakfasts in Seattle.

While beer is a fine breakfast food, I prefer eggs and toast.

Black Raven Brewing Co. in Redmond WA. Beers, peanuts, pretzels and Connect Four.

Jenny suffering in the dreadful Pacific Northwest weather aboard the Walla Walla.

Seattle is nestled between the Cascade Mountains to the east and the Olympics to the west.

Jenny refused to pedal further until I took a photo for her train-loving father.

Hood Canal Brewing Co. Kingston, WA.

Refuel and rehydrate.

Terrible views of Mount Rainier from Suquamish, WA near Agate Strait.

Another gray rainy day in The Emerald City.

Mother's Day

2011-05-25T22:52:00.000-07:00

On June 1st, 1997 a column titled "Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young", by Mary Schmich appeared in the Chicago Tribune. The essay, wrote as a fictional graduation salutation was later made famous by Australian film director Baz Larhamm, who set it to music and released it as the hit Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen) in 1998.

The song, spoken word lyrics set over a mellow rhythmic beat, is full of useful life edicts such as, Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, don't put up with people who are reckless with yours, and Do NOT read beauty magazines, they only make you feel ugly. One of these verses that resonates most with me is, Get to know you parents, you will never know when they'll be gone for good.

It is not that I'm expecting my exceeding healthy Mother and Father to fall ill and die at any moment, in fact I fully expect to mooch off them for decades to come. It is just that a good friend of mine called the other day and let me know that his 39 year-old bother died unexpectedly in his sleep.

Get to know your brother, you will never know when he'll be gone for good.

You see, the word parents in this song could easily be replaced with brother, wife, niece, friend or student and convey the same message. No matter how you look at, we have a limited amount of time to live and the only meaningful thing that really happens in that time is our relationships with people we love.

I rode to Snohomish on Mother's Day and had a beer and bike ride with my Mom. We spent a couple hours hanging out and I learned a few things that I never knew about her. I gave Mom the gift of time and she said it was the best Mother's Day present that she'd ever been given. Go figure?

Livin' the Dream,

Matt

Crytogamic Carpet: Over 100 species of moss thrive here in the Great Pacific Northwest.

The emergence of the Sporophyte, a critical phase in the sex life of moss.

Edmonds-Kingston Ferry. Scuba divers barley visible as two black dots near the beach.

Flat tire.

Historic Seahurst Pumphouse at Mukilteo, WA .

A Mother's Day celebration started properly with beverages at Fred's Tavern.

This is the best photo I have ever taken of my Mom.

With close proximity to the gem of Snohomish County (AKA the Centennial Trail), the Snohomish Bike Shop is an excellent choice for a bike rental.

Stylish, sleek and athletic. Biking Granny!

Part of an excellent 10 mile country loop.

Friends far, friends near and friends estranged!

Field of love. Something really cool happened here at one time.

The mighty and muddy Pilchuck River, from Chinook Jargon meaning Red Water.

It is really terrible living here in Washington where it rains constantly.

Without my Father, Mother's Day would not have been possible. Mom thanks Dad daily for her Gift of God.

The Interurban Trail, previously the Interurban Trolley Line, is a network of paths, residential streets,arterials and bike lanes that connect King and Snohomish Counties. Three hours between Snohomish and Seattle.

More good news, beer prevents osteoporosis ! Drink up Mom!

Who's the Big Dummy?

2011-05-15T14:23:00.000-07:00

My mind wondered....

I wonder if I crashed and the gas exploded if I would get one last big ride in the sky on a jet powered bicycle before an eventual unpleasant landing?...much more likely I would explode into little pieces though.....BUT, rolling with relatively large quantity a compressed gas kind of equals out the car vs. bike equation ...well not really, but at least it makes you a little less attractive target....

The path-side artwork of a mushroom cloud explosion yanked me out of the thought train and called out, Don't crash dumb shit!

The Erbeck Family recently acquired a Surly Big Dummy cargo bike and Aaron was nice enough to let me take it on a "refill the propane canisters" adventure to a conveniently located Lowe's Hardware.

Some might call me a be a big dummy for riding my bike everywhere I am able, but I sure have a lot of fun getting things done on two wheels.

Livin' the Dream,

Matt

Aaron , Luca and True taking The Big Dummy with Erbeck's deck-saddle conversion for a test drive. Custom machined handle bars, hand-sewed teak stirrups and 100% fun Dad! You really should enlarge this photo to see the expressions on the boys faces. Priceless!

Two wheels, ten gallons of propane and a small brain.

A feature that I see as a design flaw. The buckle is anchored to the frame with Velcro strap. On my way home the entire buckle separated from the frame while carrying a canister of compressed gas. The other two straps carried the load and I was able to re-secure the tank, but was not put at ease by the experience. While it would come at the price of versatility, I see a sewn buckle as a safer and more secure option. Propane or groceries, one never wishes to lose a load while riding a bike!

Nobody died.

Spring Training

2011-05-02T19:37:00.001-07:00

Good Morning Matt. Get on your bike!

As you get older it is harder to have heroes, but it is sort of necessary.

-Ernest Hemmingway

In October 1995 Goran Kropp loaded up his bike with 108 kilograms of gear in the town of Jonkoping Sweden and began pedaling east. Seven months and 8000 miles later, he arrived at the Everest base camp in Nepal and proceeded to solo Chomolungma without the use of bottled oxygen or Sherpa support. He then pack up his kit on the bike and pedaled home. Frontdoor Adventures wasn't my idea.

In 2001 I attended a slideshow by Goran that detailed the epic and promoted his book Ultimate High: My Everest Odyssey. For two hours I sat and listened to a man poke fun at his beer belly and humbly downplay the mental and physical fortitude required to successfully pull off such an adventure. Don't take yourself too seriously was one of the resounding messages I walked away with.

I waited in line to have a poster autographed after the show. Goran greeted me with a hearty handshake and bousterous smile.

"What shall I write Matt?" he asked.

I hadn't really thought about it to much and spat out, "Train hard!"

"Perfect", he retorted and scribbled the message over a self-portrait of himself atop the highest mountain in the world . "Train hard", he bellowed and gave me friendly slap on the back.

That poster still hangs above the bench in my man space. Every morning when I go to the shed to get my bike, I am greeted by Goran's chipped-toothed smile and frozen beard. I am reminded that to accomplish great things, consistent small effort must be put forth.

On September 20, 2002 Goran Kropp died from injuries sustained in a rock climbing accident in Vantage, Washington. A memorial etched in the rock where Goran died reads, With a thumb up "Kropp on Top" Goran lives!

Goran Kropp is one of my heroes.

I have some plans of my own that involve a bicycle and the mountains, and although they may not be as grand as Goran's adventures, they embrace his spirit and get me out training on a beautiful spring day.

Livin' the Dream

Matt

Url, doing what he was built to do.

The one thing that keeps Seattle from being a world class city is transportation. It is getting better, as indicated by projects like the link light rail at the UW Campus. They can't happen soon enough.

Hydration is key to any successful athletic endeavor. Never pass up an opportunity to drink potable water...or beer.

Just in case you didn't get the memo, cars kind of suck and gas is pretty f'ing expensive.

Uphill with gear ;-)

Mt. Olympus by bike, what a crazy idea.

Long Ski Socks by Teko. A really versatile and durable piece of clothing. Pull 'em up when your legs are cold!

Overkill for the day hike at Sqauk Mountain, but the La Sportiva's need broken in for bigger objectives.

Squak Mountain State Park was donated by the Bullitt Family of Seattle for the greater benefit of the environment and community. The best any of us could leave behind is an environmental legacy.

A nice change of pace.

Rainier and May Valley from the West Summit of Squak Peak.

In July of 2008 Randall Nordfors biked from Lacy to Paradise, climbed Mount Rainier and biked home in under 20 hours. The man is an animal. I wonder how long it would take if you carried your own gear and stopped for a couple beers along the way?

New friends Gary, Sally and Chloe guided me from the microwave tower summit of Squak Mountain to some good views from the West Summit.

55 isn't old for a tree.

Nature's Sponge. The great Douglas Fir Tree.

Art is alive and thriving in Seattle...

even in the ditches.

Lots of rain and a little sunshine makes things pretty here in the evergreen state.

The second best institute of higher learning in the State of Washington.

Recovery meal by Flyers Brewery in Oak Harbor , WA.

I picked up a hot dinner date on a bike near Roosevelt.

Recovery Meal by Will Fernandez! Thanks Will!

Beast and Wild Asparagus from Idaho.

Part of the Solution

2011-04-28T11:38:00.000-07:00

Folks living the Pacific Northwest may have difficulty understanding this photo. We are both wearing hats and sunglasses as protection against UV rays.

Last week I broke all my own rules. Jen and got a ride to the airport in a car and hopped on a plane to Salt Lake City. We rented a mini-SUV when we arrived and drove hundreds of miles to be deposited in sunny southern Utah. We bought a styrofoam cooler to keep our beer reasonably cold and threw it away at the end of our trip. In all likelihood, Jen and I quadrupled our average monthly footprint over the last ten days.

I also had a really good time wondering around the desert hanging out with my best friend and spending some time with my parents.

The problem is that my brain easily takes the the walk down pessimism lane and I find it exceeding difficult to ignore that the rate at which we consume fossil fuels in the United States is completely unsustainable. Conflict ensues in the world over this resource, yet I still get on an airplane and fly thousands of miles for a few days of pleasure a couple times every year. Sooner or later the price of extracting oil from the ground will not be economically advantageous for anyone, but it seems not before we burn a lot more of it, and kill hoards of folks fighting for the last remaining drops. Although we all close our eyes tight, plug our ears, and scream real loud in the face of facts, our planet is getting warmer and dryer each year. We fight for oil today, water tomorrow.

Jen and I got upgraded to first class on our way to Utah. I had a coffee in a ceramic cup and Jenny watched Big Love on HBO. I did my best to play rich, but my dirty Carhartts, Pink Yoda t-shirt and perpetual bad smell didn't help the act.

I picked up the on-board Delta Destinations Magazine and read that the Boeing Airplane Company just landed a 35 billion-dollar contract to build military refueling planes for the Pentagon. It occurred to me that thousand of jobs will stay in the Puget Sound as the result of this contract, and my life will improve. When families have good jobs, they pay the taxes that write the paychecks of public school teachers like me every month. Without Boeing, I might not have a job. As much as I like to think that riding my bike to work somehow excludes me from the “Part of the Problem” club, it seems it is hard to escape the benefits of living in a military industrial economy without somehow being connected to the suffering of others. Soon one of those planes is going a refuel a jet that will drop a bomb on some "legitimate" target in our ever-expanding theater of world conflict. It might miss its mark by a couple hundred yards and make orphans out of some children whose dad was just on his way to work. He might be a teacher like me.

But hey my IRA is up a couple hundred dollars, I am flying first class and capitalism goes marching on. And really, none of us should go asking questions that don’t have easy answers. I think I’ll just tell myself it’s all going to be OK.

I digress, and wasn’t I supposed to be talking about my carbon positive vacation in the desert? On second thought, I think I was. You see, I have spent more than a few days with my forgiving wife ranting like I do about the race to the bottom and the demise of the World as we know it. Frontdoor Adventures was born out of my need to have a productive way to outlet my frustrations about the world as I choose to see it. I have come to learn that nobody likes to be around a pessimistic prick, and I really don’t want to be one. At the end of the day I want my writing and my actions to convey a message of not only conviction, but hope.

I flew home on Sunday after a glorious 10 days of sunshine, family and friends. Monday I got on my bike and rode to work in the rain and returned to my efforts to live as small as I am reasonably able. One of glorious things that I have discovered through this project is that like riding my bike, writing helps me find the silver lining that I need for my sanity. Sometimes I fall short of my own ideals, but still continue my struggle to be part of the solution.

Livin' the Dream

Matt

Desert Art. I see The Scream by Evard Munch

Little Wild Horse Canyon. San Rafael Swell, UT.

The lost art of chimney climbing.

Sunshine makes girls from Southern California happy.

Snowman, a little out of his element but always happy to be included.

I found a pair of discarded socks in the desert and instead of putting them in may pack, I felt compelled to set them on fire. You never can know the whole story of used socks and the only safe bet is incineration.

All the comforts of home. Browns Coffee.

Gratitude

2011-03-11T22:24:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I forget to be thankful.

I turned on the news this morning and watched a wall of water devour a river valley in Japan that looked a lot the one I grew up in. I tried to put myself inside that car as it was swallowed up trying to escape the black sludge of an intruding sea. I am thankful not to have been in that car.

The people of Libya have lived under the rule of a repressive dictator for the past 40 years. This week, hundreds of Libyans died in a conflict for political ideals and basic human rights. At times I question the altruism and transparency of those who lead this country, but I am thankful to have the right to criticize my government on a public forum.

A recent study by the US Military reported that 2,537 civilians were killed, and another 5,594 were injured in Afghanastan in 2010 & 2011. Considering the source of this data, and their track record, one might assume these estimates are far to low. In any case, it is difficult to argue that those who suffer the most in armed conflict want little or nothing to do with the fight that showed up uninvited at their doorstep. I am thankful to live in a country that overwhelmingly chooses to solve it's internal disagreements through political discourse.

A week ago I sat the passenger in a car and watched a man with what I assume to be Multiple Sclerosis struggle to position his motorized wheelchair in a manner that would allow him to reach the crosswalk button . I am thankful for the ease at which I roll through that same intersection on my bike at 15 mph on a regular basis.

Tomorrow I will wake up and ride my bike for an hour in the rain and practice Yoga under the watchful eye of my wife. I will eat wonderful food and drink hot coffee for breakfast in a peaceful restaurant. In all likelihood, no road-side bomb will explode on my path, no missiles will strike down announced from the sky, and the hands of nature will remain relatively docile for another day. I will live as I see fit in pursuit of my happiness, grateful for one more day of health and peace in my life. Tomorrow I will not forget to be thankful.

Livin' the Dream,

Matt

Shadow: An area where direct light from a light source cannot reach due to obstruction by an object. On March 5th, 2011 the sun shined for the first time this year in Seattle. I am thankful for the slightest hint of an approaching summer.

Young entrepreneurs out in force at the first signs of Spring. They assured Jenny and I that "they would have popsicles in the next week or two".

Not quite Mexico or Hawaii, but a fifty cent lemonade near the Puget Sound pretty much counts as a beach vacation with cocktails.

Some of us are really grateful for the sun.

I ran into my cousin Jessica at Golden Gardens. I am her favorite cousin.

Pretty cool paint job, but I prefer our little house.

Snowman is also thankful to go to the beach.

I would like to thank the person who purchased the Shake Weight at full-price and then donated it to the Greenwood Goodwill. I have only owned it a week, and have been more than satisfied with the value of $1.99 I paid. As a fitness professional, I can honestly say that I have never laughed quite as much while using a piece of exercise equipment. I think it is important that everyone follow the link above and watch the promotional video. It won't change your life and you shouldn't buy anything, but it is pretty funny and laughter is good medicine.

A cold ride the rain provides the perfect reference point for a hot yoga class. Jenny is now teaching at Mountain Flow in Madrona.

Recovery Meal. A picture says a thousand words & fat cardiologists can go pound sand.

Snt. Cloud Cafe.

Most of all I am thankful for a partner who will join me in putting a little adventure into an ordinary rainy Seattle day. We got wet to the bone biking today when driving was an easy option. Jen kept smiling and joking our way through the soggy day. Like my Dad says, It is better to be lucky than good and I certainly got lucky with Jen!

An Adventure with the Fabritius Clan

2011-02-08T20:14:00.000-08:00

Bike, bags, bottles, coffee & a wee hangover.... Url ready to roll!

Cool Gary, Vashon Island, WA. As legend has it Gary was a life long islander who suffered from mental illness. Gary could often be found hitchhiking the island roads, somedays with a smile and a wave, others with a cursing fist. In any case, he was part of the Island Family and largely accepted by the community. Gary was killed when he stepped into traffic on a dark winter morning. This statue stands as a memorial to him and the unique community of Vashon.

Time warp. Vashon Island, WA.

Now that Rudolph is a celebrity, he hangs out on Vashon most of the year.

Discovered in 1792 by Capt. George Vancouver named for his friend Capt. James Vashon. Pioneering began in 1877 when Shermans came to homestead at Quartermasters Harbor: Prices, Miners, and Gimans at Paradise Valley. By 1878 all had settled on claims.

Rhododendron ride.

The Goldfish Tavern. Tacoma, WA. Had it been open, I would have likely stopped to fuel up.

The Ortlieb Ultimate 5 Classic Handlebar Bag. I love this piece of gear and affectionately call it my glove box. Maps, food, phone, camera, wallet and snowmen all at the tips of my fingers. With all seriousness though, I own several Ortlieb products and have never been anything but thrilled about the quality and function.

Jenny's homemade bike bars.

Visits to the emergency room will be in this one's future.

Taylor on the wake-up call.

Nature wins again. The Deschutes River at Pioneer Park in Olympia finding the path of least resistance.

Good clean fun.

Late morning snack.

Nylon pants and morning rain made for perfect sliding conditions.

It seems that that the future of Ursus maritimus is largely dependent upon our desire/ability to curb greenhouse gas emissions and the resultant impact on polar ice cap retention.

Loading up.

Pre-crash action shot.

The whole "keep your eyes headed the same direction your bike is going" hasn't really sunk in with young Carter quite yet.

Taylor, just happy to be included.

My ride home.

Train tracks are huge part in the history of both Washington and United States. I believe that they also are a key to our future.

Recovery meal.

Saturday morning came early with the echo of Friday night's beers tapping lightly, yet persistently behind my eyeballs. Can't do the time, then don't do the crime say I. An alpine start of 8:20 am and a a quad Americano got me rolling the now familiar route to the Fauntlaroy Ferry in West Seattle. I put in a phone call to my 4 year old nephew Carter on the ferry to Vashon.

Unlce Matt, I am coming to get you in a helicopter was about all I could decipher through heavy breathing and the pitter-patter of feet running across hardwood floors.

That sounds much more fun than spinning another fifty miles with a slight hangover, I thought to myself.

OK see you soon, bye! click before I could arrange my pick-up spot.

A spin in the foggy mist and tall evergreens of Vashon delivered me to an encounter of the Snohomish kind with a friend from the past. Sixteen years time and I recognized Sean on the sidewalk outside Harbor Merchantile in an instant. I wouldn't have had this meeting in a car.

A Rhododendron ride to Point Defiance and south through University Place. A 10 minute chat with the mailman saved me half an hour and got me off my donor ride to the refuge of bike lanes. South...Steilacoom, Joint Base Lewis-McCord, a secret passage through the twilight zone of Dupont, bike lanes in Lacey, destination Olympia reached.

The welcoming crew at my sister Jenny's house was 25% naked when I arrived on this particular evening, but offered food, water and shelter. Un-offended and hungry, I was thankful for a hot meal and a warm bed.

Jenny was pretty straightforward when I told her I wanted to come down and hang out for the weekend, You never know what you are going to get Matt, she warned.

I manage large groups of five year old children for a living, and figured hanging out with my two and four year old nephews for a day would be a cake walk. Mark Twain once said All you need is ignorance and confidence and success is sure. I have plenty of both, but Mark never met my nephews.

Super Bowl Sunday found the men at the pleasantly empty Pioneer Park on the Deschutes River. Forest hiking, rock throwing, spiral sliding and a short lived long jump competition carried the morning into afternoon. Carter ate bird shit, which was not nearly as troubling as the fact that he didn't seem to mind the taste. Skip made a smart Dad move and declared it lunch time before Carter got hungrier and found something more revolting to eat.

Load up the troops and off to the Cabela's in Lacey. If you have never been , it is quite a site to behold. Lots and lots of dead stuff, tools associated with the craft, and folks largely interested in killing more of it. I grew up in a gun family and have killed and ate more than a few animals in my life. I take no issue with hunting and do so myself. In fact I think that if all people who ate meat got a little "closer to the source" we might respect the life that ended to sustain ours a little more.

Sunday afternoon came to quickly. A break in the rain and an unfamiliar route to the train station motivated me to my bike. Carter helped me pack and Taylor, always happy to be included, followed close behind. The clouds parted for a moment and invited a quick ride with the boys. Helmets and boots, training wheels and laughter; a Front Door Adventure on the Lake Cove Loop.

Experience is the best teacher, and my nephews didn't really inherit the caution gene. Sharp turns at high speeds usually don't end all that well, and this was no exception. A respectable crash, a skinned elbow and an abandoned bike cut the adventure a little short but left a smile etched on my soul.

As I peddled away from Olympia I realized that five minutes on the bikes with Carter and Taylor was more fun than the 80 miles it took me to earn the opportunity. I love these boys more than words do justice and look forward to the day that the we shed the training wheels and stretch the adventure just a little further beyond the Front Door.

Livin' the Dream

Matt

The Reference Point

2011-01-31T20:08:00.000-08:00

Sometime during the chaos of building My Front Door, my sister Jenny slipped my wife Jenny (yes I know it is a little weird) a wad of cash and told her to spend it on something fun. This Front Door Adventure is brought to you by my loving Sister Jenny.

Adventure Bike 1.0 (AKA Url). Built like a tank yet hard to hit. Designed and built by David and Issac at Second Ascent in Ballard. Top notch work done at a fair price.

Oishii Sushi in Greenwood. Pros: Good Sushi and great service. Cons: No bike rack.

I am a Lucky Basartd to have married such a fine looking woman who will go on a bike date in the rain with me. I am thankful her parents invested in orthodontic braces.

My month of sobriety did not stop me from stocking the beer cellar. Chuck's on 85th and 8th in Greenwood has the best beer selection in Seattle. Chuck is a pretty entertaining fellow as well.

My Team: Promises of hot coffee and food just around the next bend and beer at the end of the day keep Team Snowman on the move.

In what I have coined the Beach Climb Ride, 5 Seattle and Shoreline Parks are visited over 40 miles and 1500 feet of climbing. Hamlin Park, Shoreline WA.

Rails, rain and empty playgrounds.

One of my favorite tree in Seattle. If this one could talk, a story it could surely tell.

Salmon Slide. Carkeek Park, Seattle WA.

Perfect riding conditions. 43 degrees and raining. We love our green summers here in Seattle.

The tree gives the blacktop the middle finger. As much as pavement make my life by bike easier, I still like to see the trees win the battle.

First beer in 29 days. I haven't gone that long since I was 12.

January 3oth, 2011. Rainy and 43 degrees in Seattle Washington. Today was a perfect Reference Point Day. A Reference Point Day you ask? What on earth is that? The Reference Point is closely tied to my belief that we might all benefit by embracing a little more discomfort in our lives. Yes that is what I said, embrace discomfort.

I had this conversation a couple weeks ago with Ben Krause who has been farming in the Snohomish River Valley for the past 30 years. Sitting in his hot tub drinking a beer just a few miles short riding a 1oo miles on a day that the temperature never creeped above freezing, Ben offered his opinion of my recreational pursuits, "I can see the fun in riding bikes and all Matt, but today is pretty miserable man."

I couldn't disagree, but instead posed this question. "Are you comfortable right now Ben?"

He looked a bit confused and hesitated, but sitting in a 100 degree pool of water with a cold beer, there was really only one answer, "Yeah, I am pretty comfortable."

"How do you know?", was my follow-up question. Again, a confused look; this time I didn't wait for a response.

"You know you are comfortable because you have spent quite a bit of time uncomfortable Ben." I pointed across the yard over to the old milk parlor, which was converted into a bakery/kitchen several years ago when the Krause's discovered that pumpkin patches and weddings were a better bet than cows. "I can remember when we were kids and you would be up at three in the morning on freezing cold mornings going broke milking cows. Covered in shit, cussing up a storm and every day deeper in dept. That was pretty uncomfortable eh?" Ben laughed and nodded, "Yeah, that was pretty uncomfortable alright."

"Exactly, you know you are comfortable now because you have spent quite a bit of time in your life really uncomfortable, you have a reference point for understanding comfort. " I could tell Ben was following me but still thought I was crazy.

It seems to me that we strive so much in our lives to eliminate any discomfort that we don't recognize or appreciate the simple things that bring us comfort. A hot shower, dry socks, a roof over my head, clean drinking water and a warm bed. These are a few of the simple comforts that I appreciate on daily basis.

People have a hard time understanding why I get out of bed an hour early in the morning when it is pouring down rain, get on a bike and peddle when there is a perfectly fine automobile sitting at curb side ready to deliver me to my destination. The truth is that inviting a little discomfort into my life provides the reference point for me to understand and appreciate the things that bring me comfort.

As our country becomes collectively fatter, more polluted, and increasingly mechanized I think we all might benefit a little by inviting a bit more discomfort in our lives. Maybe a short walk in the rain to bus stop, possibly getting up a little earlier to carpool with coworker, might I suggest a bike ride in the rain?

You gotta get to know the ying to understand the yang.

Livin' the Dream

Matt

Recreation

2011-01-16T19:32:00.001-08:00

Church is in session, 50 degrees and raining on Sunday morning in Seattle. Living in the Great NW nearly my entire life, I have come to the realization that it could be like this until June. May as well embrace it and get outside.

Brown's Coffee and Cafe at it's new location, the best thing going in North City. I have been a long time fan of Neil Brown and his business practices. Kevin Rodgers bought me coffee and a snack this morning. Thanks Kevin!

I have learned many things in life from my friend Eric . Included among the lessons is the meaning of the word recreation. Recreation comes to us from the Latin re + creare literally meaning to create anew. Eric majored in Recreation at Western Washington University and introduced me to the concept that the true purpose of recreation is not to simply relax, but rather to help us re-create or renew ourselves. It has taken me a while to understand this concept, but more and more I turn to my bike to help clear my mind of the layers of chaos that build Monday through Friday. Spinning down the Burke in the rain on Sunday with no more of an agenda than to ride, solutions to problems that I have been pondering all week start to unravel almost effortlessly, and the piles of tasks that seemed overwhelming on Friday afternoon fall into a mental checklist and seem surprisingly surmountable.

John Ratey, author of Spark: The Revolutionary New Science of Exercise and the Brain references a growing body of evidence that supports the contention that aerobic exercise has beneficial effects on anxiety, stress, depression, learning, aging and attention. Ratey's research states that, "physical activity sparks biological changes that encourage brain cells to bind to one another. For the brain to learn, these connections must be made... The more neuroscientists discover about this process, the clearer it becomes that exercise provides an unparalleled stimulus, creating an environment in which the brain is ready, willing, and able to learn.”

Stop the press, exercise really is good for your brainl!

While some may look at a Sunday ride in the rain as an exercise in misery, the truth is that it is this act which helps me to re-create spiritually, physically and now it seems neurochemically. I wonder what would happen if if everyone road a bike to work once a week? Might we notice increased worker productivity? Maybe decreased incidence of depression? Possibly less days lost to illness and decreased medical care costs? Could it lead to improved environmental health? Would stronger communities emerge? Who knows for sure, but we can now definitively say that recreating by bicycle is good for your brain. Good enough for me for me to keep riding.

Livin' the Dream

Matt

Tea Party 100

2011-01-02T16:42:00.000-08:00

Pre-Front Door Adventure cleaning. Likely the last big ride for the Trek 520 and I. Adventure Bike 1.0 is currently being put together. Stay tuned.

There are moments when riding for hours in the pre-dawn freeze with ice block hands and feet that you start to question your resolve for a winter bike adventure. Then there are other moments, like when watching the sun burn up the morning sky through a frozen orchard when you feel like you could ride for days.

Two wheels, snow and ice, a good attitude and a small brain.

Right to left: Pilchuck, Three Fingers, and White Horse Mountains over the Snohomish River Valley. (Abominable Snowman in the foreground).

Nature's sculpture park.

Salvation. A 30 minute break and a hot Chai do wonders for a man's motivation. The Java Inn Coffee Roasters in Snohomish is good place to grab a Cup of Joe from some local folks.

Terrible views and crowded bike paths.

Where the hell is Machias, WA?

Be on the lookout for horses in Machias...

...and trains near Silvana, WA

Sadie let me know that my Carhartts and Patagonia Fleece were not really "Handsome" enough for Tea. Since that was all I had, she agreed to let me stay.

Buffy, the very special Buffalo was also invited to the tea party. Last minute accommodations were made for Snowman and Duck.

60 miles in to a 100 mile day and all you can eat crumpets & tea. Livin' the Dream!

It is hard for me to reconcile the the beauty of this child and her striking resemblance to my brother. Madeline Wren at 8 months.

The Old Snohomish Library was built in 1910 with money donated by businessman and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie. One of only 2,500 Carnegie Libraries built worldwide, the Old Library is now home of the Snohomish Carnegie Educational Foundation.

This tree was growing in what we call Snohomish County 100 years before Columbus "discovered" the New World.

It is very important to be on the lookout for farmers on tractors when riding at night near Snohomish.

Mom's Bean Soup. Guaranteed to put hair on your chest.

I ride bikes quite a bit. Most of my riding just involves getting here to there and back again. I ride to work. I go on long trips with gear. I prefer short trips to the bar. I raced a couple of BMX races at the Monroe Fair Grounds when I was a kid. I have been riding bikes my whole life, but I had never ridden 100 miles in a day.

The last day of 2010 seemed like a great day to give the solo century a go. With a forecasted high temperature of 33 and snow & ice on the streets I suited up at 5 am for my best shot at a Darwin Award. Using Disaster Style Tactics and my hand drawn map, I got a little disoriented (I have never been lost in my life) in Clearview (again) and was couple hours behind by the time I reached Snohomish. I tried to talk myself into throwing in the towel as my hands and feet thawed at the Java Inn. Fred's Tavern called from across the street, but I had a very important date to keep with my Niece Sadie in Arlington. Back on the road, the Centennial Trail opened up 17 blissful miles of solace. Truly, this is a gem of Washington State and I look forward to the day it stretches to Skagit County and beyond.

Although grossly underdressed for the occasion, my lack of manners was excused with the promise of more 'handsome' attire in the future and I enjoyed the most precious time that I have had with Sadie in her young life. We talked of family and made future plans to visit links to her past over tea and butterfly sandwiches.

Too soon I had to be on the move as 40 miles and the short winter days threatened. A forced bivy between Arlington and Snohomish didn't sound as nice as a warm bed at Mom and Dad's house. The frigid wind pushed me south, cold beers and a hot tub at The Farm 4 miles short of the finish line proved the most dangerous objective hazard of the day.

Creeper gear up Fobes Hill, bean soup and corn bread, shower, sleep...deep sleep.

It wasn't all that long ago that the minute school got out for Christmas vacation I was racing off to climb frozen waterfalls in Canada or Colorado. While I am not quite ready to hang up my ice tools yet, I can't help but recognize that a bike ride, a tea party with my niece, and spending a little time with friends and family brings me a joy that can't be found on the side of a frozen mountain.

Livin' the Dream

Matt

The Road to Vashon

2010-12-11T17:50:00.000-08:00

Jenny and watched the not so uplifting adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's The Road the other night. Filmed in mono-chromatic landscapes filled with the scars of industrialization, director John Hillcoat did a wonderful job of painting a haunting picture of a post-apocalyptic world void of all but the most resilient, amoral and sometimes cruel beings.

Riding from Seattle to Vashon this weekend, Jen and I stopped under the West Seattle Bridge and spent several minutes just taking it all in. The eery similarities to the film captured us both. Above us towered thousands of tons of concrete that if left unmolested will stand for a thousand years. Under us what was once Duwamish River looked more like and industrial dump site than a natural resource. We stood in wonder of how long ago Salmon ran so thick through this waterway that one could walk their backs shore to shore? 100 years, 200 years ago? Surely a blink in the history of this place, but in that same blink look at we have "accomplished". I turned on the TV at the B&B Jen and I stayed at and learned that I will likely live to see the extinction of the Orca . Apparently they are starving to death. If we can not save this icon of our beautiful home, what makes us think we can save ourselves? We live an illusion of infinite economic and industrial expansion amidst finite resources, it seems to me part of a larger global race to the bottom. Everywhere we went this weekend I found myself saddened by the destructive hands of man on the order of nature; but in the midst of this destruction there is always life claiming it's place and fighting back. We too shall come to pass.

When I started riding bikes they were nothing more than a fitness tool, a means to fill the a void left in my life by chronic running injuries. Over time the bike has come to shape the way I view the world and taught me lessons about life. The bigger your life gets, the more it weighs you down. The faster your life goes, the more you miss. Less is more. Last is first.

While the direction that our world is headed causes dark times in my life, I am thankful for the opportunities I have to enjoy the beauty and joy that is around us. I will do my part to preserve it by approaching it on two wheels.

Kla-Ha-Ya

Matt

Concrete Jungle.

The moss will eventually win.

Sky Scraper.

The world will be a much better place after I shave my one month attempt at a moustache.

The Captain and Me.

Every day is a great hair day.

The Vashon Island Coffee Roasterie has a long and rich history in the NW. A great place to have hot coffee on a cold day and a look around.

The sign reads "Objects found in beans between 1984-1989 here at the Roasterie R1"

The Bicycle Tree, Vashon Island. Nature wins again.

Nature's Recyclers

Jenny loves the feel of my moustache against her face...

...and is saddened by the thought of me shaving.

Pretty OK winter day at the beach.

Equal parts Styrofoam and natural sea detritus. Charming.

Survivors.

Squatters

Point Robinson Lighthouse, Vashon Island.

Not your average cinnamon roll. Monkey Tree Cafe, Vashon Island.

A professional. This guy ran after us for 2 miles uphill before I caved and gave him a chunk of my meat stick. I think he would have came home with us if he could have kept up.

Spin with a view. Open all day every day.

As usual, it is important to rehydrate after a ride.

News spreads quick on Vashon, a barn fire north of town the culprit here.

No photography skills here. Just dumb luck.

Home sweet home.

A Bike, a Train, a Truck and an Elevator

2010-11-23T15:24:00.000-08:00

To long has it been since I could wake up early in the morning and ride a bike with the freedom of not knowing exactly where I might sleep that night. Pack the essentials, make a reasonable plan, put a smile on your face and see what happens. With a forecast of heavy snow I set off at 6 am from Greenwood and caught the Amtrak at King Street. Hours of West Coast visual bliss landed me in Bellingham and 4 inches of snow. Looking particularly screwed on my two wheels, a local guy Mark offered an unsolicited ride. Not too proud to recognize my predicament, I accepted. Dropped off at Grossme Outlet, I rode-pushed (rushed) a grueling three blocks to my old climbing buddy Alan's house in the York Neighborhood. A hot tea and a ride in the Toyota down Chuckanut Drive to Blanchard delivered Alan and me 30 miles of pedaling snow-free 28 degree pavement. Living the dream.

Beers and booze at the bus, George's welcome home party, wood fired hot tub under a sea of stars, spoon with Mikey, 6 am alarm, spin to Mount Vernon, rails to Seattle, beer at the Dray, dinner with Jen, a warm bed.

It felt nice to just let things unfold this weekend. It may be crazy to suggest, but what if more of us simply got on a bike and rode somewhere cool next weekend? What if you figured out a way to visit an old friend without using your car? Maybe you would meet some folks along the way that restore some of your faith in humanity? Maybe you would realize that faster isn't always better? Maybe you would discover that everything you need really is just out your front door?

Hard to say not knowing?

Kla-Ha-Ya

Matt

My Mark Twight "Disaster Style" pre-adventure gear photo was sabotaged by this cute girl. Bummer.

End of the easy part, snow in B-Ham.

In the event of Nuclear Holocaust or Rapture, edible food item will be found here for approximately 1000 years.

Two wheels, small brain. Perfect combination.

Destination reached! Alan, our fearless leader's house.

Alan Kearney fits the definition of a climber. Alan has lived the life a guide/photographer while putting up first ascents in Alaska, Patagonia, and Washington for over 35 years. If I have learned anything about climbing in the past 10 years, I can count Alan as one of my mentors.

Alan suited up at a moments' notice for the 30 degree ride. We didn't see many other folks out riding that day.

Andy is a little fatter than the last time we hung out, but it's winter and all and he still seems pretty content with life. Much can be learned by observing cats.

Trouble brewing.

Another magic bus ride with the usual suspects.

Good things happen in Mt. Vernon, Wa.

Southbound

The Alaskan to Pike Elevator saves folks like me a hill climb....

..and gets me closer to the celebration beer at The Dray.

This fine morsel of health food was purchased at the Calico Cupboard in Mt. Vernon. My wife is a very discerning critic of the fine American Tradition we call the Cinnamon Roll....

...she approved.

Homecoming

2010-11-13T21:55:00.001-08:00

The last four month have been pretty dormant here at Front Door Adventures. I assume much to think anyone reads blog enough to notice the absence.

The truth is that Jen and I have been working pretty hard just to get back in the Front Door. The remodel was physically, emotionally and intellectually consuming. We spent our first official night back in the house on Halloween among stacked boxes and hoards of trick or treaters. It felt wonderful for neighbor kids to come by and walk in the Front Door uninvited. It's nice to be home.

Remodling our home was not easy in any sense of the word and created friction in many areas of my life..., I cannot begin to express my gratitude for my family and friends who turned this vision into a reality.

Thank you is not enough.

My brother Jeff owns and operates Fish Creek Custom Woodworking. The best value custom cabinets in the State of Washington. From start to finish, this project never would have happened without the help of my brother.

A small sample of the work. Jeff really helped me wrap my head around the realities of designing a custom chef's kitchen in a 500 square foot home. When we put a tape measure on some of my grand ideas, they simply didn't fit the space.

Jeff talked me out of a galley style table in the corner and replaced it with a pantry and broom closet.

Granite from the boneyard and more custom cabinets by Jeff.

Smart design by Jeff here as well. I envisioned a corner vanity and sink, but I learned how much function is lost in corners due to limited drawer pull and cabinet depth.

Where the magic really happens. Jeff at the Fish Creek Shop.

My Dad Jim told me I was crazy to tile a shower. He then proceeded to plan and execute the tiling of my not-s0-standard shower stall. My dad is a craftsman in every sense of the word, (he builds Flintlock Rifles from scratch for fun) , I am not. Fortunately I paid enough attention to my Dad at work not be a complete hack. Dad came down to help out with the skilled labor at a moments notice.

Amuater hour with the Alford men.

As you may have noticed, I have a soft spot in my heart for cute girls. My niece Sadie came and visited on the night that counter tops were delivered. Buffy was a big help as well.

Although Madaline currently carries a striking resemblance to my brother, I believe that she will grow up to be cute someday as well.

A photographic history of the interior of the house over the last 5 months.....

Without Jenny, I would not have been able to pull the house project off. Nearly every night I was greeted with a smile, a beautiful meal, and more often than not a cold beer (or two). Jenny doesn't know much about swinging a hammer, but she truly held me together through this journey. We build our home together.

I'm quite eagerly anticipating a long overdue Front Door Adventure this weekend.

Kla-Ha-Ya

Matt

Our Home

2010-08-06T23:09:00.000-07:00

A house is made of wood, plastic, and stone.

A home is made sorrow and joy, struggle and triumph, frustration and ease, doubt and confidence, hurry and patience, fear and courage.

Jenny and I are building a home together.

First round of cabinets from Jeff at Fish Creek Custom Wordworking.

Huge milestone

Bedroom Storage

Jenny playing house. She is cooking me a dead pig. Mmmm Bacon!

Fast wife

Bikes and trains. A good combo.

Foot modeling at the Calico Cupboard in Mt. Vernon, WA.

I think she's still got the touch.

Snowman, along for the ride.

Discovery Garden, aka the Garden of Eden. Part of the WSU Extension program in Mt. Vernon.

GO COUGS!

You can take a girl out of Santa Cruz....but you just can't take the Santa Cruz out of a girl!

Jenny likes the sun...

and apparently meat sticks as well.

The preacher at his pulpit.

Foot Ferry to Lummi Island.

The Birthday Balloon. Yes, my wife and I are completely insane.

Jenny looks absolutely nothing like her father.

Don't trust Juan Corrasco.

The Breadfarm in Edison, WA.

Good food, good beer...happy wife.

Skagit River Brewery, Mt. Vernon, WA.

Don't ask.

My Bodygaurd

Silver City Brewery in Sliverdale, WA

The Offering

Jen and Eric at the Whidby Island Co-op Tasting Room. Eric is the Murphy of Ott/Murphy Wines from Swede Hill Cellars.

Wild Sheep in Mukutilo, WA

Kla-Ha-Ya

Matt

My Front Door

2010-08-06T21:45:00.000-07:00

My Front Door

The Adventure truly hasn't moved to terribly far from my front door this summer. While those folks who read this blog know that all my adventures start and end at the front door, most of you don't know much about my front door.

In August of 2006 Jen and I bought a 1910 504 square foot cottage in Greenwood after renting the home for a year. Jenny was somewhat reluctant to buy a rat-infested 100 year-0ld house that had been a rental for the past 15 years (go figure?). I promised Jen that I would build her a home, and she trusted me enough to sign the mortgage. I promptly went to war with the rats, and we have been pecking away at the house since.

On the first week of summer break this year, myself and several buddies gutted our home wall- to-wall and I have been rather busy putting it back together since. Powered by Jen's gourmet sandwiches, PBR, and lots of help from friends and family, I will finish the project this fall and get back to blabbing here about my misadventures on a more regular basis.

Despite the busy schedule I have managed to get out on some good bike adventures in the past month. I was thinking about it today, and had to laugh at the paradox of my current situation. Most of the year my bike delivers me to work at school or the gym, away from my refuge of home. This summer my bike has been the refuge that has taken me away from work on little adventures that have refocussed, relaxed, and recharged me. I am thankful for a set of wheels and the health that lets me power them.

Kla-Ha-Ya

Matt

This is the living room/kitchen pre-remodel.

Step 1: Gently remove the 100 year-old ship lap ceilings.

Krause strong with the demo flex down. Next month's cover of Men's Health.

Cliff came down from Blanchard to help me vault the ceilings. It is good to have friends with skills.

This is the most current picture of just inside my front door. I am painting this weekend and floors are in next week.

Vaulted ceiling with lots of can lights