- Level: moderate
- Length: 5.2 miles
- Elevation: 930 ft. elevation gain
- Type: loop
- Open: all year
- Permit: n/a
- Drive time from Portland: +/-15m
- Google map: “Linnton Loop Hike Trailhead”
This is my current favorite in-town hike. There are ridiculously gorgeous parts and annoying parts and difficult parts and old growth trees and all kinds of turns and changes to keep me on my toes, sometimes literally. There are downhill pitches where I basically tip-toe. It was the first tougher trail I did while rehabbing my knee and I’m hooked on it. Continue reading “Linnton Loop”
- Level: easy (Beginner level: doable)
- Length: 2.4 miles
- Elevation: less than 40 feet gain
- Type: loop
- Open: all year
- Permit: n/a
- Drive time from Portland: 20m
- Google map: “wapato access greenway”
I have a deep attachment to this not-so-spectacular trail. I did it many times and never posted about it on social media like I usually do. I felt like I was keeping it a secret which is kind of dramatic, but honestly, it was. It’s the place I rehabbed my shitty knee injury that took me down from hiking for about three months. Continue reading “Wapato Access Trail”
You’ll find me on various parts of the Wildwood Trail at least once a week, so it feels weird to “revisit” it. However, spring in Forest Park is popping off right now and I have a new favorite loop that deserves a little attention. Continue reading “Forest Park via Germantown Rd. (revisited)”
A few things:
#1 and foremost, I’m on a RAD podcast and I couldn’t be happier about it. Lacy Davis, of Super Strength Health and Liberation Barbell, has a new podcast called, Femmes to the Front. I loved doing this with her and I lovelovelove the end result. I do not love the clicking sound of my headphones cord knocking against my earrings making a sound not unlike those awful dry mouth clicks on NPR, but what can I do except make unattractive, self-conscious comments about it? Please download and leave Lacy an iTunes review because that’s how those of us doing this online thing succeed ❤
#2 I have great updates on the way, but do you know how hard it is to have a full-time job, make time for hiking and then actually write about it? It’s basically impossible, but I do my best. I cannot wait until I’m able to make a lil money doing this… (there’s a hint about future announcements in there somewhere.)
#3 You know that newsletter I said would come out in early March? It’s still going to happen. See #2.
Just a couple of things!
1) I was featured on this sweet outdoors website, Camp Culture ltd. Awesome! It matters that they wanted to elevate the stuff I do. Check it out, leave a comment, make me look cool, buy one of their shirts if you want to, etc.
2) If you’re in Portland, tonight is the Unlikely Thru Hike talk at the Lucky Lab on Killingsworth. It’s free! Please come and hang out with us.
(The photo above of me was taken by, Megan Holmes.)
His shelter name was Tommy, but that didn’t work because my at-the-time boyfriend’s dead dad was named Tommy and it just felt weird. I tried to call him, ugh, Morrissey. Yeah, it was 2001, the year after I did not graduate from high school. I had just moved into my first apartment, a roach and flea infested dump on the furthest edge of town. It was dreadful, but the promise of adulthood and freedom were gloriously at my back. I was an adult! I lived on my own! I have forgotten so many things about my young adulthood I wish I could remember, but I will never forget the day I got him. I was at the San Diego County Animal Shelter and this gray giant, far bigger than any other cat I’d ever seen, was standing up in his cage on his hind legs, front claws drawn all the way out and attached to the metal door, screaming at me for attention. He was terrifying. I came in hoping to get a black cat, but they all seemed disdainfully uninterested in me. I circled the room a few times, waiting to feel a glimmer of connection with any of them and the huge gray cat continued to scream and holler his perfectly snaggle-toothed hollers, flexing his claws. I have always made terrible decisions, so I asked to see him. He was hyper and scary and incredibly sweet. I loved his wildness. I took him home.
That first week, he never once responded to Morrissey and, here in my mid-thirties, I couldn’t be more relieved. Listen, I will love The Smiths forever, but Morrissey is such a dick. I began calling him the nickname my boyfriend and I threw round at the time, Chicken. It stuck.
A few weeks ago, I had to say goodbye to this beloved companion of sixteen years. Sixteen years is a long time. Sixteen years is a really long time when you’re only thirty-five. Those years contain so many lifetimes and he was with me through all of them. I’ve hardly told anyone about Chicken’s passing and as a typical millennial over-sharer, this strikes me funny. I even had a small gathering of friends over to my apartment recently for my birthday and a few of them asked where he was and I had to finally tell them. How weird that I haven’t told all of my loved ones. I did this when my mom had cancer, too, and it was especially weird then because every single day, I’d wake up and immediately barf up some oversharing garbage on Facebook about my crushing depression and the earth shattering dramas I can’t even remember. Some things are too real for social media. Or, maybe it’s that it’s so personal and while it affects me profoundly, it isn’t exactly about me. It’s about someone I love so much more than social media can contain. It’s also really ok to keep some things private.
Continue reading “Chicken, My Anchor”