Oregon

Summer perfection with live Latin music at Sellwood Park

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Portland does get its summer concerts in the parks right, even if so many other things are not going well.

We have a lot of issues now in our city, from a wave of gun violence to massive open air drug use of deadly fentanyl, and the failure of our community to meet these and other challenges. These problems have also led to an exodus of nearly 3 percent of Multnomah County’s population since 2020.

In fact, this week, the local weekly newspaper, Willamette Week, published a litany of woes that national and international journalists have shared about the falling star that Portland has become from its quirky, almost rock star status less than a decade ago.

“Portland is on a short list of destination cities for national media,” wrote the Willamette Week.
“Rather than a model, however, we have become a cautionary tale. It wasn’t long ago that the nation’s leading newspapers and magazines regularly wrote the same glowing profile of the Rose City—a lovably weird outpost wedged between the Cascades and the Pacific where colorful (but mostly white) residents pedaled tall bikes while playing the bagpipes, eating Voodoo doughnuts, and slurping elderflower-flavored kombucha.”

The Voodoo doughnuts and bagpipes were always absurdities and click-bait style gimmicks disconnected from lived reality of nearly everyone who lives here, but that’s what feeds the media and social media appetites.

Portland, and its countless brand messengers, ran with it, until the city hit the brick wall of harsh reality. This collision of fantasy and reality has made us a model of what can go wrong with civic life and the brute truth of complex issues like gun violence, deadly opioid-fueled drug use, mental health disorders, gentrification, racial disparities, political experiments gone amok, and more.

Despite our many issues, the city can still put on some good public events that bring together diverse residents. That was on display on July 15, 2023, at the great public park near my home, Sellwood Park.

The Portland-based Latin Music group Conjunto Alegre dished up the standards of salsa, merengue, cumbia, bachata, cha-cha, and more. This is a wonderful and eclectic ensemble from the diaspora of musicians from Latin countries who call Portland home.

Even dance-challenged–and yes, mostly white–Portlanders were on their feet dancing. The band had fun. The crowd had fun. Kids had fun. The breeze cooled all of us down at the end of a hot day. And for a couple of hours, the magic of Portland had returned. I loved it!

So what makes you happy?

*Rare calm waves visited the north coast of Oregon on March 18, 2023, bringing out dozens of surfers from miles around.*

As my work day closed on the first day of spring, when those in the Northern Hemisphere recognize the vernal equinox, I also learned it was another important day.

Since July 2012, the United Nations has recognized March 20 as “the International Day of Happiness, recognizing the relevance of happiness and well-being as universal goals and aspirations in the lives of human beings around the world and the importance of their recognition in public policy objectives.”

The promise of a day surfing brings out my best, always.

The first day honoring happiness was observed on March 20, 2013. And I have been ignorant of the event for more than 10 years, it appears. Shame on me.

In its naming of a day dedicated to happiness, the body also “recognized the need for a more inclusive, equitable and balanced approach to economic growth that promotes sustainable development, poverty eradication, happiness and the well-being of all peoples.”

I have a lot more work to do to address issues that promote the happiness and well-being of all peoples. I come up far, far short.

From time to time I also need to care for my spirit. I long ago realized I could do little for others if I did not tend to myself. When the weather and free time allow it, I practice self-care in the Pacific Ocean, with a surfboard, to disconnect from things that weigh on me. Surfing for just a couple of hours allows me to just live in the moment to recalibrate my priorities.

By doing this I can better focus on what really matters in my life and what I do for others.

I hope everyone had a great day and will work the rest of the year with the well-being of others in their own, special way.

Teacup Nordic ski area on a perfect winter day

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After weeks of planning to cross country ski, I finally did it. I am a bit tired, but feel alive.

Though I now roller ski every week, it is not the same as skiing on snow. There is nothing that compares to Nordic skiing on fresh snow. The workouts are always deeply fulfilling, and I can eat voluminous amounts of food when I am done.

For Nordic skiers of the world, this also is the time of year to Nordic ski the world over, in places where one can ski.

February and the first half of March is when the biggest ski races in the world happen for amateur skiers: the American Birkebeiner in northern Wisconsin at the end of February, the Birkebeinerrennet in central Norway in mid-March, and the biggest, the V asaloppet races in central Sweden, at the end of February and first weekend of March. I was allowing myself the guilty pleasure of watching videos of these races from past years, but without getting out myself. I grew envious of Swedes and Norwegians who can ski all the time most of the winter. Me, I get wet this time of year, roller skiing in the rain or drizzle in Portland.

Cross-country skiing that is accessible from my home is fickle at best during the winter, and now more unpredictable with climate change disrupting winter weather in my region. The closest ski area is 75 miles away, on Mt. Hood, at a spot called Teacup, on the east face of the mountain. It is pretty, but it mostly has a lot of big descents and big climbs instead of long, flat straightaways. It is nothing like my fun ski life I had in Anchorage, from 2004 to 2010, where I could literally strap on skis and walk 100 feet to a shared used trail on most winter days.

Alas, all the ski videos got the best of me. I was antsy to get to the snow. Then we had a good new dump with consistently cold temperatures to make the drive to Mt. Hood worth it on March 5, 2023.

It was nice to finally skate ski again after 13 months of not being on a trail since my last trip to the Methow Valley. I miss being able to do it often, like I could in Alaska. My 150-mile round trip took four hours, involving some white outs, rain mixed with snow, and icy roads. It was a reminder to me why I may do it only once a year in Oregon and why I stick to roller skiing, which I can do any day of the year.

Yes, I do miss that snow. I am proud to say I face planted my first 10 yards today. I was so used to my roller ski balance I was unready for snow. Quickly, I found my muscle memory and soon was off for nearly three hours of looping the descents and long, lung-busting climbs. I saw nearly 50 cars and a lot of people out. Unfortunately, none of us saw Mt. Hood, which was mostly hidden in the clouds.

I want to give credit to the group that maintains the 24 km of trails here, on the Mt. Hood National Forest, called Teacup Nordic. It is a nonprofit that promotes nature, cross-country skiing, and healthy lifestyles encouraged by outdoor sports. The group is a mostly volunteer-powered. They run the venue and produce programs for kids, families, and adults. They do a good job. On many days, I Iike to see the morning photo of the trail groomer of the Nordic trails he’s groomed, telling skiers about conditions. It is a bright spot when all I see is rain in Portland. Thinking of a snowy trail still makes me smile!

Historic snowstorm slams into Portland, woot woot

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Around 3 p.m. on Feb. 22, 2023, big flakes began falling in my neighborhood in Portland, Ore. I did not think much of it, because the normally accurate National Weather Service’s winter storm warning only called for one to three inches through the next day. And to my surprise it really started falling. By 6 p.m., when I called it a day working at home, nearly three inches of snow had already fallen, and the blowing flakes were still coming down, heavy and wet.

After a nice and soggy snow walk, I settled in, wondering what the next morning would bring.

Much like Bill Murray’s weatherman Phil Connors in Groundhog Day, who finally sees a new day that ends his torment in Punxsutawney, Penn., when I opened the blinds at 5:30 a.m., I saw a massive dump of snow had accumulated. It was far greater than predicted. Our regional weather data gatherers reported Portland recorded the second-largest snowfall in a single day by the time it all ended, with parts of the city recording up to 11 inches of white stuff.

For hundreds of thousands, this historic snowstorm did what we know happens here, by bringing the commute to a crawl. Most drivers in Portland don’t have good winter driving skills, and the excess of large vehicle owners driving recklessly, causing mishap, not to mention trucks jackknifing and shutting down the arterials, paralyzed the evening commute. Countless big and “manly” pick-ups” and SUVs were abandoned, as were the semis, and it turned into a saga of six-hour commutes for many workers. I really felt sorry for most. I had that happen before to me, in Portland’s February 2017 snowstorm. I counted my blessings, as I am now a telecommuter. I will never forget how lucky I was not to be risking my life to commute–it’s something I hated doing for years of my life.

Before my workday began, I did a nice three-quarter mile walk in my neighborhood, snapping the proverbial winter shots I often do and relishing the snowy quiet.

Local and state transportation officials were urging people to avoid driving if they could, which is impossible for tens of thousands of people who have to work, particularly if they are essential workers. But the icy conditions probably grounded many, and those who showed up showed up like they always do, because when you work, you show up if you aren’t privileged.

As the day ended, I did a fun run through a snow covered wooded trail. It was glorious. I also marveled at narcissistic behemoth vehicle owners gunning it 50 mph on ice covered streets as if they were immune from laws of physics. They always do that here, because that’s who they are. Mostly, I smiled at the teens enjoying the bliss of sledding on a popular sledding hill. Now that was how to make the most of the weather.

An almost white Christmas

As the nation navigates from extreme winter weather that cancelled thousands of flights, lead to fatal crashes by dangerous truck drivers, and imperiled many living on the margins, Christmas Day finally arrives.

Snow and ice hit the Pacific Northwest, blanketing Seattle in perilous ice and closing portions of Interstate 84 outside of Portland. Fortunately, Portland had mostly light snow just before Christmas eve that today, Dec. 25, is turning to wet, soppy mush.

To everyone who is braving the elements or trying to connect with families and friends, please travel safely. Enjoy the season and, if you can, be kind and think of others who may be less fortunate.

Seaside on a calm October day

Oregon has seen freakishly warm October weather. On some of those warm days, when there is no rain, we will also see fog blanket the coast. That is what I found last weekend when I headed to Seaside, Oregon, one of my favorite Oregon surfing locales. It was a mild day in terms of wave energy and size, and I caught some nice rides. This is how it looked before I went in with my now-aging Stewart 9.3 ft. board. It still works.

Lloyd Center before the fall

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There is an entire genre of photography devoted to the collapse of the United States’ consumerist structures, notably the shopping mall.

Malls in decay represent a specific type of schadenfreude in a country where consumer activity drives about 70 percent of our economy. The collapse of the venerable shopping mall, a landmark from the 1950s through the 1980s, in mostly suburban American, reveals deeper troubles in our economy and the promises we were told and believed.

The Lloyd Center, a major landmark in the Lloyd District in Portland, has been slowly dying for years. There were efforts to revive it as late as 2021, and it’s all but certain as of late July 2022 the final nail in the coffin appears to have been pounded in.

I made what might be my last visit to the Lloyd center in late July 2022, when I was working at the state office building nearby, on the hottest day of the year. The center was meant to be open as a cooling center. The ice rink was still being used, even as the thermometer outside was pushing 95F. Nearly all the stores were shuttered, and major retailers had closed their doors.

I for one will miss it because it provided an urban retail space to serve many residents who didn’t have cars and who didn’t want to drive to the suburbs. I imagine there are other photographers like me getting their final photographs before the death of yet another American shopping mall is formally announced.

Wild thing

Spring in Portland is now winding down its cycle of magnificent blossoms from the many ornamental flowers that adorn lawns and parks. Because of a cooler and wetter than expected spring, like we used to have before the onslaught of climate change conditions, flowers bloomed a little later than we have seen the past five to seven years. Tulips and daffodils have come and gone.

The last great entrant I am seeing now, on their final leg, is the Japanese Iris (Iris ensata). The iris genus, which has many varieties that are planted by gardeners, is among the wildest and sexiest of all flowers planted by gardeners on the west side of the Cascade Mountains, in Oregon and Washington. It prefers wet soil and shade. Most of all, it is delicate and crazy at the same time, with its sultry mix of delicate petals and bold colors. For me, it is a rare gift from nature, which marks the culmination of moisture, sun, pollinators, and of course the flowers themselves. And, dear readers, because I am not a gardener, please correct me if I identified this one incorrectly.

So, with that, here are a few words describing my reaction to seeing these beauties last night. It was the Jimi Hendrix version I heard in my head too:

Wild thing
You make my heart sing
You make everything groovy
Wild thing ….

Sites and impressions from the Oregon road

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Oregon, geographically and geologically, is an assemblage of parts that don’t truly make for a whole. Like its northern neighbor, Washington state, it is divided by ecosystems that also provide a rough border of the political divisions that have never seemed deeper, particularly following the dangerous four years of twice impeached former President Donald Trump.

West of the Cascade Mountain ranges are the state’s most densely populated areas, and they are more to the left in the northwest corner of the state. The lands east of the Cascades are sparsely filled. They include the northern farming counties of Gilliam, Morrow, Sherman, Wasco, Union, and Umatilla.

On this trip I passed through Gilliam County, which features stunningly scenic rolling hills and an endless supply of wind that led to the siting of extensive wind farms. Outside of the federally recognized tribal holdings and communities, the areas is overwhelmingly white, but is now seeing an influx of some Latino residents, who do much of the agricultural work in this part of the state. Politically, this is as red as red gets anywhere in the United States.

I drove south from the Columbia River Gorge on Highway 206 through Condon, then took a right going south on Highway 19 through the abandoned intersection community of Mayfield to Fossil. Here is where landscape turned from rolling hills to deep canyons, revealing millions of years of geological history. Farms that draw from the John Day River line the roads that wind through a “scenic byway.” Some of these stunning geological formations are partially protected in a federal land management area called the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument. The area has some of the richest collections of fossils spanning a 40 million year period, showing the evolution of species, plants, and ecosystems that existed long before homo erectus walked out of the plains of Africa to populate the planet.

After a brief stop at the monument’s fabulous visitor’s center, I took a right and headed west on Highway 26 that took me through more stunning canyons, multimillion dollar ranch holdings of land barons, and to the turnoff for the Painted Hills Overlook, which are some of the most photographed hills in the annals of photography. I first came here in 2003 and had forgotten how stunning the scenery was.

After taking a great walk and taking my obligatory tourist photos, I jumped back on Highway 26 (the Ochoco Highway), which climbed through the scenic Ochoco National Forest, where sites of recent forest fires were visible. Along the way I observed how severe the drought conditions were, with the Ochoco Reservoir down at least 20 feet. I passed through Prineville, which once identified itself as a town tied its ranching and agricultural past, celebrated in its public art. In reality, it has become a bedroom community for nearby and fast-growing Bend, about 25 miles to the southwest. The community is now home to larger data servers that tap into cut-rate cheap federal power provided by the nearby Bonneville Power Administration dams on the Columbia River.

Facebook recently announced it was building two more buildings here on top of nine existing structures, with operations the size of 80 football fields. The new investments will cost $2 billion. Apple also operates large data farms here as well. These investments make the bucking bronco and cowboy sculpture feel as old an a Roman antiquity sculpture.

Rudy Owens at Paulina Lake, smiling because it snowed the night before in early June 2021.

I ended my drive in Newberry Crater, another national monument about 45 minutes southeast of Bend. This is one of my favorite places in Oregon. It similar geologically to the much more famous Crater Lake National Park, but more developed for campers and fishermen. The day I arrived it was nearly 32 F, and it snowed during the night. I had almost an entire campground to myself. I woke up with white stuff on my tent, and it was still the second week of June. I loved that, actually! From my campground, I did a long overdue nearly 8 mile run around Paulina Lake, which is one of the finest running loops I have done anywhere. That was worth the trip alone.

Flowers work magic on long, long days

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I have not had a proper vacation in more than two years now. I have had some weekends off, and I did have five days off in February 2020 to attend to my mom’s passing.

But these pauses from my jobs do not amount to a week’s break from work. That means I am, at times, tired and at times less elastic than I ideally strive to be.

For the last five plus months, I have been working in Oregon’s COVID-19 response. My job requires long days and, I have to admit, not enough compliments to sustain one’s energy as a day drags beyond 12 hours, with no lunch breaks. The situation is fluid, because this is a pandemic. The nature of my job means that many people I engage may not be satisfied that their needs are not met to their liking. So there is frequently unhappiness that is directed at the person who provides them what they cannot get.

Some days my abilities to navigate this are tested. When that happens, I have been fortunate with longer daylight hours and the arrival of spring to stop and literally smell the flowers at the end of my workdays.

Portland’s flowers have brought me much joy the past few months. A flower does not criticize you or bear you ill will. A flower also does not harm human health.

Flowers simply bring joy and provide pollen to our insect pollinator friends. Thank you for making my life more joyful this spring!

What Beautiful Light

Photos, Commentary, and Videos by Rudy Owens