Allana silking at Meadow Camp outside of Bend, OR I didn't get to finish uploading my photos from this spring in New Zealand. VOILA they have appeared. morning dew on a pink tractor at Wooden Shoe tulip farm color/contrast ::: bikes outside of student housing on the UO campus out in Eugene ::: an alley next to the Jazz Station ::: Elle and Alex goofing around at the playground ::: Elle and Friendly Park Elle shaping Wooden Shoe tulip farm -- fishy fishy Allana's reflection in a tide pool at Cape Perpetua friendly reflections sheets blowing at the Oregon Country Fair more silking strange foggy textured wallpaper movement // stillness bar walls at Velvet two nutty ghostly girls at dusk Elle bear // Barn Light Allana + more silks light and shadow stillness in motion // makes me dizzy For my final project in photography this spring I got to choose my own subject and conditions. I wanted to photograph crowds and chaos (situations I am extremely uncomfortable in) and somehow juxtapose that with vast, open spaces (places I feel at home in). So I shot photo after photo on my road trip up to Sasquatch Music Festival in May, did some Photoshop experimenting, and came out with the following results: lights and legs desert windmills in the setting sun felt like a Gregory Crewdson shoot.... man vs. nature nature and man man and nature floating flying people I love /// acting like ghosts sharing favorite <3
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color study -- foggy lens at a house party It's been a while since I last wrote a significant amount on my blog, and updated all you cyber-people about happenings in my life. So here it goes.... Immediately after U.S. Nationals I took off for school in Eugene. I took a full load of classes during the spring term at the University of Oregon, working toward my Bachelor of Fine Arts. Taking art classes always sounds amazingly fun and simple, but somehow every year it proves to be insanely difficult and busy. I'll spend hours editing a single photograph, a single line of code, on a single watercolor oyster. This year I took digital photography, an advanced drawing class, a digital arts class, and an environmental studies class called Global Environmental Issues. Let's just say there wasn't a dull moment. Throughout this post I'll insert photographs that I shot (some are edited) for my course this spring. Starting now. shapes and lines -- an early-evening reflection in a Bend, OR downtown window The photography class was likely the most surprisingly fun one. I had assumed that I wouldn't learn much in that class, and was annoyed when I heard they had changed the upper-level photography course prerequisites from film to digital photography, although it does make perfect sense in this age. Alas--I was mistaken. I learned so much about my SLR, it was pretty amazing. And we even covered a bit of editing techniques on Photoshop. I hesitated to sign up for that class, but I'm now ever-so grateful that I did. light/shadow study My drawing class was really wonderful. We did a lot of value-studies for the first few weeks of class, which were simultaneously frustrating and meditative, but never really that fulfilling. About half-way through the term our professor opened up the project definitions to include ideas that we had as individual artists. On the last project there were essentially no guidelines, other than to spend mass amounts of time on many drawings. So I experimented a bit with water colors and layering graphite/ink on top, which I ended up loving so much. I plan on doing more of that work when I get a bit of time, hopefully this fall.... color/movement study Digital arts was probably the most difficult class of them all. I went into it thinking I would learn how to use a Wacom tablet, translate drawing into a digital form, and edit digital artwork. I have never been more wrong. We started out using Makey Makeys (please check out this video--these things are cool), Quartz Composer, and moved on to finally delve into Processing (a coding program). I never thought I would be learning to write code in that class, but that was essentially what the class was all about. How to take a vision/idea and translate it into this foreign-mathematical-computer language.... Yikes. I was completely unprepared for that. But after an incredible amount of confusion, struggle, and unintentional lap-top naps, I figured a few things out and actually learned to love the language a bit. That being said, I have so so SO much more to learn in the programming world before I become even the tiniest-bit proficient enough to create anything unique and original, and I'm not sure if I have the patience or the capacity. I may continue with it next year, just to challenge myself and see if it's possible. Cause I have so many ideas that I can't bring to life due to the dark expansive gap that the information needs to cross in order to take shape. We'll see..... movement -- Allana silking out at Meadow Camp And then there was the Environmental studies class. I've always been an advocate of sustainability, conservation, earth-loving, etc., but I wanted to get a better understanding of what is going on in our world and why. What a mind-blowing experience. I learned about everything from Green House Gas emissions, to water conservation, to industrial-vs-sustainable agriculture, to world-wide fishing practices, gender inequality, wealth disparities, and the violence all of these issues create around the world. I learned that I am leading an incredibly unsustainable life, and contributing immensely to global warming. Flying around the world, going through 50 pairs of skis a year, getting 4 ski jackets every season, supporting the agriculture industry in ways that are extremely detrimental to the continuation of our species, buying new clothes---these are contribute significantly to the problems I complain about and know are destroying this wonderful planet. Taking this class has inspired me to rethink my choices: how I choose what I eat, how I transport myself to the gym and the store, what clothing I buy and where it's coming from, knowing how the fish I eat was caught, and questioning my sport and the damage it is propelling. But I'm not perfect, and it's really, really tough to stick to all of my guns and ask every single waiter/waitress where my meat is coming from, researching a pair of shoes before I buy them, or choosing the more expensive crackers because they're GMO free. I'm not doing everything right--there is so much that I am still doing that is so harmful to this planet we're existing on, but I am now more aware of the choices I make, and I understand how these influence the market, capitalism, consumption, and hopefully the choices that the people around me make as well. It's a struggle, but it's better to believe it can be reversed than to just give up. The Barn Light color/light study -- party dishes depth study -- Allana's feet on the Oregon coast sand After school wrapped up I headed straight out to Park City, UT to train for a few weeks. It was time for me to get back to focusing on working out, and the Center of Excellence is one of those places that makes it easy to do so. Living in Park City allows for me to focus solely on working out, and not worrying about too much else (to-do lists, house projects, homework assignments, etc)... It was intense and demanding, but felt good to know I was getting back to the top of my shape. And pushing/challenging myself physically always feels so satisfying. I was working out while I was at school, but my program was condensed, and I was more concerned with finishing a drawing (at 3 am...that was due in a few hours) than taking my time during my lifts. So the few weeks in PC were worthwhile, and I returned to Oregon exhausted but ready to be home in Bend for more than 3 days for the first time since last October.... people project people project 2 people project 3 people project 4 Oregon was wonderful. I got to spend the 4th of July in Bend, and had many guests come visit from Hood who got to enjoy the festivities around town. We had a fun barbecue party for Allana's birthday on the 5th, and Leanne and Dustin stayed in town for a few days after the rest of the crew left to climb, workout, and play by the Cascade Lakes. We went up to the foot of the Deschutes to camp for a night, which was gorgeous and wonderful. After Dustin and Leanne left town, Tommy and I headed out to the Oregon coast to surf, camp, and explore. On our way back to Bend from the coast we stopped at the Oregon Country Fair, which I've never been to before. It was so full of magnificent, community-driven, earth-loving people...I am definitely going back!!! 5th of July fireworks :) sunset in the Oregon sky sheets in the wind at the Oregon Country Fair The time spent at home in Oregon was short, busy, nuts, and lovely. It flew by, and before I knew it I was on the plane headed to New Zealand. Skiing down here has been wonderful. It is the most wintery I have ever seen in the 10 or so years I have traveled to New Zealand.....on Round Hill there were 8 runs instead of 1, as it was last year. The snow pack is perfect, the free-skiing is impressive and fun, the terrain is varying, and the training has been ideal. For the first week or so we were in Round Hill, the snow was very compact, icy, and perfect for training. There has been weather moving in and out, but for the most part it has been a really valuable trip. And we still have another week--YAY! We just arrived in Arrowtown, and will be training at Coronet Peak until we leave on the 16th. Yesterday was insane--we went heli-skiing with one of the U.S. Ski Team trustees. I'm pretty sure we were basically the luckiest people in this country, while we were plowing through massive amounts of new, fluffy snow. I was choking on it constantly, to the point of it being an issue to try and get air to my lungs. But it didn't matter. It was glorious. I have never had that much snow to myself (well, I had to share with a few others). But we never repeated a run, and waist-deep fresh snow was basically a requirement... it was so deep that you almost wanted to ski in someone else's tracks, just to keep your speed up. We hit a few steeper runs, and I had a few illustrious moments--it was literally so surreal I felt like I was dreaming..... It's a blurry, fuzzy memory in my mind now, but I'm going through some footage and am excited to share the bliss..... movement study Well, I've run out of time for today....but I have many more photographs and words to share, so I'll be updating again soon. Enjoy the heat of the summer sun, and I'll soak up the winter while it lasts. So much love from the Southern, colder, moon-waxes-and-wanes-from-the-opposite-side of the equator <3 <3 <3
how i made this adorable/ghetto ukuleleSo I was assigned a DIY project for my Interactive Digital Arts class...and I knew I had to make an instrument. I have spent all of my life playing music and yet am unaware of what it takes to make an instrument and the physics behind the crazy beautiful things that make wonderful noise and make me feel so good. I didn't have a whole lot of time, given the fact that I'm trying to keep up on the working out thing (blah) and trying to conquer all of my other classes as well (which I am accomplishing relatively well). Anyhow, check it out! I made a ukulele! I followed almost all of the instructions from the Instructables website ("Make a ukulele with a pocket knife!"), but used wood working tools and altered a few steps. See my tutorial below to figure out how I made this crazy baby guitar thing and...maybe you should even make your own! materials: -wood sandpaper (varying grains) -a nice 4'' x .75'' x 24'' wood (I used maple--which smelled delicious while going through the works--I highly recommend it) -a long steel ruler with metric measurements (yes, it comes down to millimeters) -Ukulele strings -super glue -4 ukulele tuning pegs -thumb tacs -toothpicks -(not shown) 2 liter clear PET bottle (like that containing pepsi or something of the nature--it's a #1 recycling container) -some denatured alcohol or something similar (yeah, you're gonna burn stuff) -a metal bottle cap (like one from a beer bottle) -a lighter -2 screws...about an inch long with a good sized-head -(not shown) the following woodworking tools (good luck with this stuff...): -band saw -drill (with relatively large and small bit capabilities) -an oscillating spindle sander -a hand-held jigsaw (also called a saber saw) -a good pocket tool also came in handy ;) OKAY LET'S GET STARTED THEN step 1: cut out your shapeSince the length, height and width of the plank of wood are the correct size, all you need to do is cut out your hole in the middle of the body and also shape the neck. Exact sizes don't particularly matter here, my neck ended up being 33 cm long, and my body 31cm. Basically you want to cut out the neck shape starting half way down the piece of wood. My neck ended up being about 44 mm wide at the body, and 40.5 mm wide at the head piece, creating a nice taper. You can even get creative with your body's hole (teehee). Mark the center of your instrument with pencil so you can get things even. Use the band saw, jigsaw and sander for the above. (if you can't get your hands on these tools, which is understandable, you can actually make this instrument with JUST a pocket tool--though I DO NOT recommend this, as it will take you forever to cut the wood and it is MUCH more difficult to get things perfect...none the less, you can click here for the link) I have used wood working tools only once before this project, so am definitely an amateur! Just get into the shop, know/learn how to work the tools safely, and go for it. It's a good time. step 2: thin your headstockMeasure your tuning pegs, and thin your headstock accordingly to their height. The picture above was my first attempt at thinning the head stock....I had to thin it even more to accommodate my tuning pegs. The length of my headstock is about 92 mm. I used the bandsaw (watch your fingies!) to accomplish this. step 3: drill your holes and attach the tuning pegsFind a drill bit that matches the diameter of your tuning pegs. It's always best to start small. Measure up and make sure all 4 pegs will fit in the right place on the headstock. I recommend setting the top two pegs closer to the center of the instrument and the bottom two further away from the center. This is so that when you pluck the strings, they don't ring on the metal of the tuning peg below. I had to learn this the hard way, unfortunately.... Make the final adjustments and permanently attach the tuning pegs--these babies are not going anywhere! step 4: create and attach a nutCut out a piece of wood that is the width of your neck at the edge of the headstock. It should be about 5mm x 4 mm x 41 mm ....yep that works perfect. Now sand or use the bandsaw to create grooves in your nut...make the outer two grooves a few mm from the edges, but not TOO close, and then evenly distribute the other two in between. Superglue the nut on. At this point I also carelessly varnished the whole instrument with some super glue--quick and easy! step 5: create a bridge!The bridge should be about 6-7 cm long, 8 mm wide and about 11 mm tall. Then sand it down to the top is rounded/somewhat maintaining a triangular shape. Cut 4 grooves in your bridge--BUT DON'T MAKE THEM TOO WIDE (I also learned this the hard way). You probably want the farthest distance from outer groove to outer groove to be no more than 4.5-5 cm. Same rules apply (measure!) for distances here as they did on the nut. I kept the bottom side flat, but sanded up all the edges to make them look nice 'n purrty and also so they're not that dangerous :) I also sanded a groove in the center of my bridge (see above) cause then it's just the real deal. Super glue that baby on just below the bottom of your giant hole. STEP 6: (MEAsure first!) attach the frets and sand downMeasure the EXACT distance from the edge of your nut to where your strings will hit the bridge, write that number down, then go here: https://www.stewmac.com/FretCalculator Don't forget to choose the "Ukulele" option, and, depending on the size of your hole, you will likely have 12 frets. My options were-- 12 frets, scale length of 438 mm, measured in mm, and the ukulele option. Remember, you measure from the NUT toward the bridge (starting with 0 at the nut). Write down all the measurements and then measure EXACTLY and attach your frets. I just used a little super glue down the edge of each toothpick and let it set for a bit. Try to make these perfect since they will determine your notes and their accuracy. Then sand down the sides (I cut off the extreme excess) to the width of the neck--try to round them off for grip/comfort purposes, and also so that you don't get splinters while playing. step 7--make some markers on your fretI made mine on frets 3, 5 and 7. You can look this up and do something freaky if you so please. I just used pencil, and then applied another layer of super glue varnish. I forgot to take a picture of this part before I strung it up, but you can see clearly above anyhow :) step 8: tac down your plastic bottle and set fire to this muthaI was extremely unsure of how this was going to work out, but just try to give yourself a lot of excess plastic outside of the hole--you can adjust your tacks later if need be. Make it as tight and uniform as you can, but when you burn it, the plastic will shrink and give you that tight fit that you can't achieve without FIRE. Once your membrane is sufficiently tacked, pour some of the alcohol in the bottle cap and light it up. It is like a mini-campfire, so beware of heat (FUN THOUGH!)....hold the plastic close(ish) to the flame, so that it begins to shrink and take form. Only shrink to the point of shape obtainment....don't go past that or you may need to find another plastic bottle and do it again. Just dig through a few recycling bins--you'll find what you need fo sho. This seems super ghetto--but leave the tacks on. Trust me. Your membrane should be tight, and sound like a drum when tapped like a drum. NEAT At this point you're going to want to insert those 2 random screws into the back (through the plastic membrane) right through the body and into the two bridge sides. Make sure you leave a bit of the heads sticking out so you can attach your strings! step 9: almost there...add strings now!This is why you need the excess screw head sticking out of the bottom. Learn how to string a uke here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwNDkh43oqc Basically the only thing you're going to do differently is that you're going to wind the end of the strings around the screws on the bottom of the instrument, then back up and tie a knot around the same string (headed the opposite direction) at the base of the instrument (so it has an edge to hold on to). The knot is not so important here, but I'm sure you could do something fancy if that's your thing. As you can see above I had to adjust my bridge by adding new grooves toward the end when I realized that my strings where hanging off of the sides of my neck, and I couldn't play the outer two strings. LAME. Measure up love. It's worth it. step 10: finally--time to playYou can find some fun ukulele tabs here: http://www.ukulele-tabs.com/
Yay! Enjoy your home-made instrument :) It might sound kind of bad, but hey...you made it from basically nothing Ghetty Images/Agence Zoom Racing Super-G in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany Yesterday I clicked into my bindings and stepped into the start gate for the last time this season. It felt good, sad, relieving, and strange. To think that the racing season is already over is somewhat mind-boggling…I still feel hungry and somewhat unsatisfied. It was my best racing season of my career, but I got a taste of what it feels like to contend at the highest level, and I didn’t get to take a real bite out of it. free-skiing in Courchevel I had 4 top tens in downhill this year, and 10 top fifteens in World Cups/World Champs. There were a few races that I was hauling ass in, headed for a top 5 result, a podium, possibly a win, and ended up crashing. Those were incredibly disappointing, frustrating, and eventually created this mental block that wouldn’t allow me to let go anymore. Because when I let go, ski freely, fast, on the edge, I am taking the risk of losing my balance, losing my stability and composure, and pushing things too far—often to the point of ending up in the fence or tumbling through snow expanses. These moments are scary, and they are something that I feel I have been working my whole career to avoid, but they are risks that we all take as athletes. Ghetty Images / Agence Zoom Racing DH in Méribel, France--about to crash.... I, for some reason, seem to be more prone than most other skiers to crashing. This is a fact that I am trying to comprehend and accept, it is one that I have been working and fighting with, mulling over, and struggling to grasp my whole life. I guess I’m a bit clumsy—I drop things, trip, and stumble. But I’m also the strongest and most coordinated I’ve ever been, incredibly powerful, quick, and athletic once I’m fully aware and involved. As I try to narrow down the possible reasons for my blunders—and I realize there is not only one reason, but many—I understand that my awareness and presence are the most important pieces to the puzzle of my ski racing success. looking up at the Mer de Glace in Chamonix, France While I know I can get even stronger, more stable, more coordinated; I am accident-prone, a bit ungraceful and awkward, sometimes unlucky; I understand that even if I solve the above problems, I cannot use the skills or confidence learned unless I fully hone in and become intensely immersed, acutely aware, and fiercely focused on the moment and task at hand. top of the training course in Méribel, France I’m heading to Eugene, OR for the spring term at the University of Oregon, which starts on Monday. Although I have almost no time to sit down, unpack, settle down, and rest up between my stressful, extensive season and the beginning of another ambitious endeavor, I am so incredibly thrilled to stretch, tease and fill my brain with information, ideas, creativity, and knowledge. I learn and explore my boundaries every single day in ski racing, and doing the same in school, in a completely different sense, teaches me so much about myself and how I can be a better athlete. Spring is a time I use to regain my concept of balance, push my mental limits, and engage in a sense of myself that I often forget about. It is hard for many people to understand why I ‘put myself through this,’ (go to school) but it is something I need desperately to feel whole and maintain drive in all aspects of my life. And I truly believe it will make me a more knowledgable, aware, wise, and better skier. finding my inner animal Here’s to education! Hah ;) I’ll be in and out of Bend on the weekends, doing a bit of skiing and other work, but will try to stay focused in Eugene for the most part. I won’t be back on snow with the ski team until mid-July, which provides me with a long period to get strong, smart, motivated and eager to get back on the snow. I probably won’t be doing much updating over the next few months, but because I am taking photography, and have piled up so many photos over the season, I will be doing a POD (Photo Of the Day) every weekday during the spring, just to stay connected and to show you how I see things. So keep checking in on PODs, enjoy the blooming flowers, and feel the love in the air <3 <3 <3 Here are a few photos from the last couple of weeks. Enjoy. inspecting in Garmisch free skiing in Courchevel with Alice and our new friend Martin :) can't decide... castle-touring at Neuschwanstein the one. she did it again. two globes. what a comeback!!! the after-party at La Folie Douce messing around with Stacey in Sölden, Austria early March // photo by Mitch Gunn one of the first walls of granite I saw in Chamonix, France. along the Petit Envers route ripping down Grand Envers ::: photo by Stacey Cook walking across some sketchiness, atop the Aguille du Midi the Aiguille du Midi, Chamonix side 17:00 hrs -*-*- walking back through town to our home base Stacey slashing the Mer de Glace our lovely adorable hilarious hosts: Glen and Kimberly purple-hair-don't-care-crew sooooo many lines....... Mr. Plake enlightening the crew happiness is fresh snow, a good guide, and a harness... and Chamonix. (one of those smiley faces with hearts as eyes) looking up at Grand Envers (Moyenne, ou Petit??) adieu (from the Mer de Glace)
A few weeks before heading to World Championships, Stacey and I discussed taking a tropical vacation after Beaver Creek instead of going home. After some half-assed research and light discussion, we decided on Puerto Rico. We wanted to check out a spot in the Caribbean (in between the States and Europe), head south South (for the warmth!), and not have to apply for a Visa (Puerto Rico is an American territory). We had also heard that there were some great waves to surf in Puerto Rico, so that made our decision even easier. our sunset dinner stop near Aguada, on the way to Rincón Although these first two pictures don't show it, the waves were much too large for myself and Stacey (we're eager, but extremely inexperienced!), they were 18+ ft almost every day we were in Puerto Rico. We were there for 7 days. The ocean was going off, crazy angry, fast and hard, heavy, punchy, NUTS. We flew into San Juan in the evening, and headed straight to our first hotel there in Condado. On our way to the airport in Denver we thought it over and decided to book our first nights' stay there, just in case we landed late or ended up confused, lost, unorganized, baffled tourists searching for shelter. Other than the first nights' hotel, we decided to leave the rest of our trip open, to decide on where to go when we got there, play it by ear, wing it and explore freely instead of being tied down to a hotel room. Turns out this wasn't the most intelligent planning strategy, as it was Valentine's Day and President's Day weekend....yikes. We ended up scrambling quite a few times to try and find a place to stay. But it all worked out in the end. The photo above is of the bar/bar tender at our first restaurant visit in San Juan. nighttime streets of San Juan We woke up on our first morning in San Juan, did a quick workout, hung out poolside (by our resort hotel--found a gem on Hotwire!), and explored Condado in San Juan a bit before hopping in our car and heading West to Rincón. On our drive we stopped in town (Rincón) and luckily came upon an art fair/party scene downtown. a woman and her hammocks at the Rincón night fair art! drum circle party hammock art! We stayed at Lemontree Oceanfront Cottages on our first night in Rincón--a last minute find by Stacey. Our cottage was literally on top of the ocean...I could have jumped off our back porch balcony and landed in the crashing waves (although I would have smashed up against our building wall and likely gotten seriously injured). It was a cozy and comfortable place to stay, with the waves crashing outside and the birds/sun waking me in the morning. from our balcony at Lemontree the living room of our sunlit cottage good morning world On our first morning in Rincón, we woke up and headed to the beach to watch the surfers. Stacey and I decided, after our first day in PR, to make daily ocean bathing a requirement, so as to embrace and absorb the tropical lifestyle as much as we could while we could. The waves were too big to surf on, but they weren't too big to play in (we thought). We got tossed around a bit, smashed against the shore, knocked over countless times--faceplants, stripped of underpants, sand in every crevice, salt water up my nose, powerless and tiny. THEY ARE SO BIG We found a pretty awesome nameless beach south of Maria's (Rincón area), grabbed some Acaí bowls, and found a tree swing--on which Stacey swung while I climbed atop the anchor. climbing! and swinging! the water rolled so high up on shore, it tried to steal our shoes and drinks and soaked our towels. such amateurs. in the top of the tree! any help with the tree variety? from the top Stacey's spot From Rincón we headed north to Jobos, our next stop on the tour. On our way we paused for a peak at Maria's beach to check out the waves (too big. again.). It seemed to be run by locals, so we got a bit frightened, took a few photos, hid in a cove, and peaced out. Stacey at Maria's (notice the sign) a closeup After arriving in Jobos and finally finding our hotel (a no-frills surf hotel just south of Playa Jobos), we went beach searching and exploring. We found my favorite restaurant on the island, Ola Lola's, which was down road 4466 just off the beaten path west of Jobos. I had my first peanut butter burger (way way way way WAY more delicious than it sounds), my favorite meal of the trip, and proceeded to Aguadilla to check out the surf. It looked delicious and relatively small (head-high ish, there is usually not much to surf on in Aguadilla unless it's huge everywhere else), but we couldn't find a surf shop to rent boards at, so we played in the water, took some photos (below!), and drove back to Jobos defeated and hungry. jealous of the surfers... boat ties grape fanta crumbled boardwalk beached boat more of the crumbled boardwalk more sunset at Aguadilla trash etc. danger flat surf The next morning we woke up and did a wonderful beach plyos/gymnastics workout (check out my Instagram/Facebook page for a taste), hung out on the sand, and got incredibly sunburnt. After recovering at a lunch shack (El Carey Cafe) with some Octopus and fresh coconut water, we headed west to explore the coastline and find a spot to watch the sun set. We drove south past Crash Boat beach and took a right down a backroad to the water. After discovering a good spot to play in the waves, we opted to drive a bit further to see what we could find.... i like this blue bench ...and we stumbled upon this gem! I have no idea what it is called, where exactly it is, or what it used to be. But it was a beautiful sunset spot (although we couldn't exactly see through the clouds...) and gorgeous ruins to wander through. sunsetsurf Stace wandering around the rocks below skies and letters makes me wonder what it was like when this building was new... Stace fake leaves // real toes textures The next morning we woke up and jumped on a few horses--YES WE RODE HORSES ON THE BEACH AND IT WAS THE BEST THING EVER. They even let us canter. We ran on the beach on horses. Amazeballs. leaving the stables my horse Bailey--she didn't like me taking photos of her.... we had to do a bit of bush whacking to get to the beach!!! so so dreamy We tied our horses up to a couple of trees on the beach, and came across a beached boat. Our guide told us it was a drug-running boat from the Dominican Republic that had gotten caught and ended up running and beaching at this deserted cove. After exploring the abandoned beach a bit (you can get to so many wonderful places on horseback!), we hiked up a small mountain to get an aerial view of the surrounding beaches. It was gorgeous up there.... the view! about to jump (I love the crouching photos in jumping series like this!!! so funny!) the one loving Bailey the abandoned boat wading through a puddle last beach / horse photo...promise! After our wonderful horse ride we headed to Playa Jobos for our daily dose of ocean. It was a bit dirty, but seemingly very popular and made for some good photo ops. There was another abandoned building on the beach that I obsessed over for a few minutes with my camera while Stacey played in the water.... ruins fences and webs remnants of a plastic bag heading upstairs... a beautiful mess textures, colors, depths As we began our drive across the island (eventually landing in Caguas), I found another abandoned building... heh.... sooooo many photos..... in the mirror graffiti / high heels / colors like this stencil Then we finally hit the road. I'm sure at that point Stacey was ready to break my camera...but I saved it from her wrath (legitimate wrath...). We were starving by the time we got in the car, so we stopped at a roadside stand and got some traditional Puerto Rican lunch--roasted chicken (a whole one) with rice and cooked plantains. So satisfying! After doing some research on the drive east, we opted for the scenic route--the Ruta Panorámica. Unfortunately the signage was terrible, and our 3 compiled maps were not detailed enough (nor was google maps) to find our way. So after getting lost countless times along the way, we bailed and followed the highway to Caguas for a good nights' rest. Actually, our frustrating excursion didn't turn out to be completely fruitless--La Ruta Panoramica is incredibly gorgeous. We were driving through a lush and dense rainforest, overgrown and overhanging onto the road to the point where it was like we were driving through a luscious green tunnel. It was worth getting lost for 5 hours on.... After a relatively uneventful sleep in Caguas that night, we jumped on a ferry in Fajardo the next afternoon and headed to Culebra, a tiny island off the east coast of Puerto Rico. We had heard that one of the most beautiful beaches in the world existed on Culebra, and decided we had to see it. That ferry ride was the coldest I got during our whole trip in PR--the air conditioning was cranking, and it was filled with other tourists just like us, heading to see Playa Flamenco and other gorgeous beaches on the island. Upon arrival we headed straight to our hotel, Mamacitas (which was an awesome spot to stay--delicious drinks***TRY THE BUSHWHACKER!). They told us of a spot to rent bikes for our stay on the island, so we dropped in just before closing and picked up a few beaters to ride around the island on. We hadn't yet plunged in the ocean that day, so we hopped on our bikes and headed to Playa/Punta Melones for the sunset and some ocean time. Stace playing in the water strange, colorful tire planters next to Playa Melones ...and roosters playa/punta Melones close-up dead things, moving on That night in Culebra Stacey and I hit the town. We started off at Zaco's Tacos (YUM), had a few drinks at Mamacita's, and then ate at a spot on the water. There were TONS of sturgeons next to the dock, glowing in the underwater lights. fishies a mural in Culebra The next morning (a bit hung over) we woke up and hopped back on our bikes. We rode to Tamarindo beach to snorkel, but the ocean was still so angry and wild that we couldn't even see our hands. Our hotel manager told us that the snorkeling at Tamarindo beach was some of the best in Puerto Rico, and that if we went in the morning time we would be swimming with the turtles.... that was false. At least on the day we went. Silly ocean. But the bike riding was really enjoyable (and hilly), and made it easy to beach hop. It was off to Playa Flamenco after Tamarindo, the famous gorgeous beach. Turns out it was true--it was one of the most pristine beaches I have ever seen, if not THE most. But it was ridiculously crowded, and Stacey and I are not good with crowds, so we moved on after some sun-soaking and headed back to the hotel to grab our stuff and continue riding around a bit before getting back on the ferry. so dorky. so happy. Stacey's helmet was far too large the famed Playa Flamenco It was back to San Juan for the evening before our flight the next day. We stayed at Hotel Casablanca in Old San Juan, which was in such a perfect location and had some really incredible amenities--such as the beautiful roof-top viewing tubs... gasp gawgeous views We explored the city a bit that night, but got a bit more adventurous the next morning. We set out without a plan and jaunted around the city. It was interesting to learn about some of the history of San Juan and Puerto Rico, and to check out the fun colors and architecture of the city. colors! a wall at the edge of the city (and two fun-havers) a lookout she's got good aim even the bricks are colorful a nice door so powerful love the alleys birdholes closed off After some exploring we FINALLY GOT ON SOME SURFBOARDS! It was a dream come true. Truth be told, the waves were absolutely hideous, but I managed to catch a few and got that feeling that I have been missing for so long. Then we hopped on a plane. The end.
Actually, I am extremely sick of writing this post. I have been trying to finish it for a week, and need to go to bed so I can sleep and rest up for tomorrow's Super G race here in Garmisch! K bye. One more fun photo below :) love peace and wellness. mysterious Cortina fog As I was reading through previous athlete’s blog posts on T2's website, trying to come up with ideas for a topic for my personal contribution, I found myself inspired by tear-streaked cheeks. Genuine words of love, compassion and radiance influenced by two ski racers who recently died doing what they loved fill a few of the posts preceding mine. Bryce Astle and Ronnie Berlack were caught in an avalanche in Sölden, Austria at the beginning of January. I don’t want to talk about the tragedy or my grief, as I barely knew Ronnie and Bryce, but I am enticed to write about presence and fear. Because when somebody who does what you do dies doing it, it shakes you to your core and makes you think; why am I doing this? Is it worth it? the intimidating start pitch at the Bad Kleinkircheim, Austria World Cup Downhill Sometimes I recall my past with sadness, regret, confusion. I so very often think of my future and become anxious, frightened, confused. Living in these places in time where I do not exist stirs up a certain weight, an itch, a twist in my gut that wrenches my psyche and pushes me into a dark place known to so many others. Call it what you will—depression, anxiety—the only way to conjure my submersion from these depths is to bring myself back to where I am. There are a few ways to manage this. My first go-to is to fill my lungs, so perfectly gently and steadily, with intent and poise. When my first attempt falters, or my mind proceeds to bring me back to some other jet-blackness, I have to do something that requires my whole self, something that fetches my flow. Returning to your breath sounds so simple, so cliché, so hippie-yoga-earth-loving-bohemian-flower-child like. Meditation has a similar reputation. But there have recently been piles of scientific studies and research on how mindfulness can enhance quality of life, and I’m buying it. Because it’s science, and I guess I believe in things that can be scientifically proven. Silly, I know. So—I’ve been sitting in the mornings, boiling water just to watch it bubble, and enduring through pressure and irritations with pauses. WOW I sound like such a balanced, free spirit. If only. It takes so much work—a lifetime’s worth—to get to where I want to go. But because I live in such a competitive environment, full of stress, fear, pressure, doubt, and nerves, it seems worth the effort. And when I just can’t seem to realize my composure, I turn to something like skiing. groomer tracks next to the St. Moritz Downhill course Skiing freaks me out. Racing down a course at 80 miles an hour, through ice patches and bumpy darkness, around tight corners and close to not-so-forgiving fences, really scares me. Putting your life at risk for a rush of adrenaline seems so foolish in the grand scheme of things. But when you arc a perfect turn, when you fly off a jump and time stops, when you cross a finish line, whether with a smile prompted by thrill or relief or delight, it all suddenly becomes worth the risk. If not for fear and doubt, there would be no reward, no fulfillment, no high. I’ve learned more and more about why fear and doubt are positive emotions, and I continually have to remind myself to accept them. Many experiences, mentors, crashes, and fast runs have taught me this. Many tears and scars, close calls and powder-slashes have magnified this realization. birds in flight over the foggy Cortina course I find myself fully present, fully absorbed, by only a few simple pursuits: music, creating things, and skiing. There are some other activities that require my full attention, but none that I am so well versed in as skiing. Skiing makes me laugh and cry, pushes my buttons and my limits, teaches me relentlessly, challenges me outrageously, and fills me up to the very tippy top of my fragile little glass. I can’t think of a better way to transition from this life to the next than doing it on my skis. Skiing, to me, is worth far more than the risks that accompany it. I truly believe that Ronnie and Bryce would have said the same. boundaries:::down a valley in St. Moritz--from the hil With the dangers considered and the fear acknowledged, I return to my sport once again at a big event: World Championships. After the Olympics, World Champs is the largest event in Alpine Ski Racing. And this year, it’s in Beaver Creek, Colorado. This will be the only big event of my life that I will get to race in that is hosted in my home country. I arrived here a few days ago, and felt the weight of it immediately pressing down on me the moment I saw the snow. But I will let that weight drive me, let it frighten and enliven me, bring out my fury and tickle my fancies. Ales, my magician technician, hexing and rubbing potions on my skis :) After a season of using my terror and unease to inspire aggression, I am learning more and more about how beneficial it is to embrace whatever I’m feeling in any given moment. My racing has been much more consistent and less wild than ever. I feel so much more comfortable and confident to take risks and ski on the edge. I get excited to get in the start gate: to feel the nerves, the excitement, and the fear, and to manifest these crazy feelings into aggression and tenacity. Of course there are bumps in the road, of course nothing is guaranteed, this is ski racing. But every day I look more forward to stepping up to the challenge, and here I am—facing one of the biggest ones in my career. So cheer loudly. I can already feel the energy. See below for some photos I took over the past few weeks.... enjoy our mountain huts in Bad Kleinkircheim a welcome sign from the hotel in Bad Klein--one of my favorite places to stay! (see the website above) and another photo below the two pictures above were taken from the exact same spot--Cortina when we arrived, and then Cortina after the snowstorm hit (during our speed weekend, naturally)... Cortina early morning inspection downtown Cortina at night one day I taught Kevin how to ski.... (with the help of Ron!!!) (he taught this to himself though...) ....and on a canceled day, Kevin taught me to snowboard! SO FUN! more Cortina fog (above and below) top of the Cortina course, on a mostly beautiful day free-skiing in Cortina our deck from the Salastrains Hotel in St. Moritz, Switzerland he can howl too (a close-up of above) snowmobiles n' stuff, St Moritz another view bored in my hotel room rodeling in St. Moritz (SUCH AMAZING FREAKISH FUN!!!!) above and below (thankfully that wall was there...)
LOVE LOVE LOVE In awe / viewing the sunrise from the top of Zermatt So I'm finally writing about September. It's November. But whatever, at least it's happening. We took off for Switzerland from home (Oregon, for me) at the beginning of September, and headed straight to Zermatt. I've never skied in Zermatt before, so I was pumped to check out a new spot. Although, I must say, I was very skeptical about glacial skiing in the fall, as it has always been absolute madness in the past. This (above) is what I'm talking about. It's definitely something about the European culture, because you would never get trampled in line to go ski on ice in the States. It just wouldn't happen. Perhaps if it snowed a meter, and you were in line for the tram in Jackson Hole, you would maybe get shoved. But I often feel, training on glaciers in Europe in the fall, like I could literally be trampled to death in those lines. My personal space bubble, although I shrink it due to special circumstances, is popped so often, I loose my cool and yell profanities at small children. I deliberately hold my skis across the entrance to the tram, blocking any ass holes who think they can just pass whoever they want because....well, I don't even know why they think that, or who they think they are. How do you not understand how a line works?!? You get in one, remember who you're behind, maybe who you're in front of, and stay in that order. There's no reason to shove, push, or even touch the people in front of you, beside you, behind you. You don't get to pass people, like it's a freaking free-for-all. We aren't herding cattle here. We are human beings. CIVILIZED HUMAN BEINGS. Just went on a bit of a rant there, and I want to apologize, but I feel what I said above is accurate, and I still believe that European glacial skiing in the fall can be miserable if you let those animals get to you. So I had to post a scenic picture of a European ski town (Zermatt) to remind myself that I really do love it. Because I do. The pros outweigh the cons. the pros outweigh the cons. they do they do they do. phew. Stacey and I hiked up to the Edelweiss hotel on our last day in Zermatt after skiing. The views were gorgeous--it was wonderful to see the town of Zermatt from a different angle. Speaking of different angles... we got to fly down from the hill in a helicopter one day, which was really spectacular. It also helped to not have to shove our way DOWN from the hill. Yes, people even shove on the way down. Whoa. Okay, moving on from that topic. (helicopters are neat!) Luckily the training in Zermatt was spectacular. We were skiing a minute-and-a-half long Super-G, on varying terrain, with a sustained, steep pitch. The women's Austrian and Swiss World Cup teams were training with us, so there were plenty of fast ladies on the hill. We got a few nearly perfect days of Downhill and a few more of Super-G. The conditions basically could not have been better. They more than made up for the 2 hours we spent commuting to and from the glacier each day. happy girls in the mountains and sun photo cred: Mike Arzt // The Public Works spectacular views, gorgeous training -- photo cred: Mike Arzt // The Public Works arcing some Super-G turns -- photo cred: Mike Arzt // The Public Works On the tram ride up to the glacier each morning we spotted some cavernous canyons that enticed our adventurous sides. So after skiing one day we went exploring through Gorner Gorge, a deep ravine with water running through it, green moss in abundance, and stairways/walkways along the cliff's walls. so nonchalant, so steep, so gaping (so neat!) (scary handstand!) yum. After training in Zermatt for 10 days, we headed down to Thun for a few days off. It was wonderful to explore such a historic city, and to actually take some time away from the mountains to soak up some Swiss culture. The city was celebrating their 750th anniversary....which is almost unfathomable to a North American.... WOW. I thought my 86-year-old house was ancient. Hah.... Thun Lake on a very windy day After visiting Thun for a few days, we headed back up into the mountains to train in Saas Fee. We skied a bit more GS there, but got to train a few days of speed on the bottom. It was a great speed hill to work on technique on....not to steep, some good terrain, a bit of speed, and an opening of about 10 sweeping Super-G turns. So fun! All in all, the camp turned out to be incredibly productive. We were much luckier with the weather than we were in New Zealand this year. And now I'm in Copper, Colorado, where it's finally dumping outside :) YAY When we arrived here in Copper there was almost no snow to be seen from the base of the hill. Now they've blown enough snow to ski to the bottom of the public slope (Main Vein), and there are 4 different runs with training possibilities...when we got here there were only two. It has been a bit of a fight, trying to get on snow and compete with hundreds of other racers for spots on the snow. But the "arctic blast" is moving in (says the local news channel), and we're finally getting natural snow. In years past it has almost always been freezing-ass cold here, so I always come prepared for training early in the morning in 5 degree weather. I think this arctic blast is just something we used to call winter. Unfortunately the whole global warming thing is really throwing things off. It's progressing slowly, but it is noticeable and is sadly changing our sport for the worse. BUT soon we'll be able to train full-length Super-G and Downhill! Yahoo. That's it for now. I have some film photographs that I've been shooting over the last couple of months that I will post soon. Hopefully you're enjoying the snow somewhere..... so fast. so smiley. so corduroy.
the Mount John observatory above Lake Tekapo Every time I return to New Zealand, I love it that much more. Something about the country just pulls me in and speaks to my love of nature, snow, oceans, spirit. And this year I got to experience a new land: Round hill and Lake Tekapo. The tiny town of Lake Tekapo was quaint and full of character. The Lake was beautiful and gleaming blue--sparkling and vast, expanding all the way from the town of Lake Tekapo to far past the ski area of Round Hill, which was a 45 minute drive from town. the town of Lake Tekapo from the observatory above Round hill was...well, it was what it sounds like. Round. It was relatively small and lacked any worthy off-piste skiing. There was not much snow when we arrived, but it was perfect for working into training and working on technique. Often it is enjoyable to ski at a hill that doesn't have terribly steep faces and crazy terrain--it's less stressful on the mind and body, and helps to get your body used to the forces of skiing, especially when you've been off-snow all summer. After a week at Round Hill we were supposed to head to Mt. Hutt, but because of their lack of snow we skipped that portion of our camp and skipped straight to Queenstown/Coronet Peak. I have skied there quite a few times, so it was not anything incredibly new or exciting. But after visiting a place multiple times, as I have spoken about before, you start seeing things you missed the first time. So with open eyes, I ventured around Arrowtown with my camera :) (see more below) Training at Coronet Peak was good and bad: the weather crazy, the snow unpredictable, and the visibility slight. All in all, we ended up missing 6 days of training because of the erratic weather. The snow never really had enough time without new snowfall to set up well, so we got to train in some rough and variable conditions. It's easy to complain about bad training conditions, but in all reality, ski racing is never perfect. It's an outdoor sport--at the ultimate mercy of mother nature. Actually, when you think about it, it is one of the few sports with ever-changing conditions. The surface under your feet is never the same--as in basketball. The lines, the boundaries are never once identical to races past--as in football, tennis, soccer, etc. The visibility can change multiple times during one single run--from clear, sunny skies, to squinting through thick fog, to blinking sleet and hail. Once in a while you'll even find yourself flying through the air, with mountains beneath your feet and 80 mph winds in your face. And if you're lucky, practiced, skilled, and most of the time a combination of all three, you'll land upright. You often can't see over a roller, you can't turn your skis the radius required by the course set, and in some unlucky instances, your binding will prerelease and you'll be left to fend with one ski, careening straight toward a fence, arms awry, eyes glazed, blood pumping--somehow slowing time to an impeccably painful pace. But then, once in a while, you're blessed enough to experience the ultimate rush. Hero snow. Sharp edges. Calm senses. Clear mind. You're flowing, like a perfect, falling river, past a gate--balanced, arcing, silently euphoric. And if you're centered, seasoned, fortunate, you'll perpetuate this flow all the way down a course, for ninety seconds, beaming in so so so much hard work paid off. Finally. So training in poor conditions often pays off. Although it can be painful, unpleasant, and degrading, there are only so many races each year that present ideal conditions. I've been working on embracing the shifting conditions, understanding that they're improving my skiing and keeping me open to variable conditions--in all senses of the term. It feels good to accept every condition as it is, and not want to change it or yearn for perfection every run. And applying this philosophy to other aspects of life is a challenge I am steeping in every day. And it is so grounding. Although we only had a few days of sun down south, we timed our heli-skiing trip just perfectly. A few of the USSA trustees took Julia, Jackie, Leanne and me out for a wondrous afternoon of helicopter rides and fresh powder runs. Despite the snow being a bit chalky, not 3 feet deep and light as feathers, the skiing was incredible. The views were insane. And the experience was one I'll never forget (see photo above, and more below). gangsta what? Richardson mountains, NZ happy girls yeehaw. with guide Rich poppin wind lips We flew to a gorgeous mountain lake for lunch (see above), and got to enjoy a spot deep in the mountains that not many others will ever see. That was one part of heli-skiing that I found incredible; I skied so many lines that no one will ever repeat. At least not exactly. With the many missed days of skiing, we managed to entertain ourselves: blue hair dye, outdoor adventuring, and bungee jumping! (one of the scariest moments eva) Regardless of the crazy storms, excessive amounts of hail, wind, rain, snow, sleet, pterodactyls, etc, I still had some ridiculous fun in New Zealand. It happens every time I go down, and I don't expect that fun to stop. I already look forward to returning next year. Some more pictures to look at, and hopefully enjoy, below. That's it for now. Peace and love, manners and hugs, blesses and bugs <3 <3 <3 working out in our backyard--Lake Tekapo snowy Arrowtown photos (above and below) (empties) canyon swinging with the doc :) new Briko babes (with Alice McKennis) goodbye.
(a continuation of до свидания, Сочи) It looks like I didn't have a chance to finish my last post. My plane boarded earlier than I thought, and all of a sudden, I was off. Flying away from Sochi. Up up and away, just like the eagle I landed as. I suppose things come and go, time passes, no adventure is permanent. Just as it came, it went. And I went with it... but below I will look back... The Olympics were insane. Complete insanity. So many people, so much work. so much construction, bustle, cheering, hustle, energy and warmth. We (speed alpine skiers) got incredibly lucky with weather...for the 2 weeks that we were in Sochi the sun shone down on us almost every single day, and never did a flake or fleck or speck or spit fall from the sky. It was amazing....especially given all the hype around the absurd weather predictions. Although it was warm and the snow deteriorated a bit, we were so, incredibly lucky. And it was so so so wonderful to spend some time in the sun. I had to throw this photo in there, because I loved the Sochi slogan, "Hot. Cool. Yours." At first I laughed and guffawed at the ridiculousness, but I grew to love and embrace it. It was certainly hot during the time I was there. I guess it was also sexy in some way or another... If not sexy at least hip. Cool. Neato! And all yours. Or, was it mine? Jackie and I at processing in Munich. Processing was nuts. We stepped into this warehouse to get our credentials, uniforms, phones, etc. and it was like a dream: free shit everywhere. The opening ceremonies uniforms (and shoes!) were hysterically awesome, all the Nike stuff we got is so so nice, comfortable and super duper stylish. There were free goggles, sunglasses, P&G stuff (razors, soap, face cream, body wash, etc), watches, Olympic rings, ski gear, off-hill gear, casual wear, cell phones, blah blah blah IT WAS NUTS. the Olympic torch the night we went down to cheer on Jules Jules started it off with a bang. She won the Downhill run of the Super Combined and had a miraculous slalom run to pull into third. Watching her excitement and being a part of it was so fun and inspiring. It was so cool to see her receive her medal... PROPS for performing when it counts. Rock on. dancing around as per usual the decor MAGIC! Unfortunately my ski fell off toward the top of the Downhill portion of the Super Combined, so that wasn't super rad. Regardless, the energy in the start was unbelievable: it was my first Olympic race, and the incredible atmosphere in the starting gate that day proved how special of an experience it was. I have never been more excited to send myself down a Downhill course. It was extreme, intense, paranormal, and extraordinary. Racing in the Downhill felt similar. I had a lot of excitement and pent-up energy left over from the Super Combined. I felt like I skied really well, and had a good, but not perfect, run. At the Olympics the only places that matter are first, second and third. Everyone is skiing to win, and even one tiny mistake puts you that far behind the leader. Because somebody out there is going to have a nearly flawless run...and it's really tough to compete with that. But I'm really happy with my skiing, and am going to take that feeling into the remainder of my ski season. Leanne bein peachy-- on our way to the medal ceremony Of all the things I saw, places I went, and energy that I felt, I enjoyed most the happiness. The giddiness that comes along with simply being at the Olympics. The smiles from unknown Moroccans, high-fives from Peruvians, hugs from Canadians, bright eyes from Jamaicans. Those I will always hold so so close to me...the diversity that comes together for a mere sporting event is truly remarkable. Aside from the competitions, the 'shows' that we as athletes put on, the most significant thing about the Olympics was the unity. It shows, time and time again, that we can all come together, from different nations, different backgrounds, different religions, different political beliefs, even different ideas of good and bad, to form an amazingly diverse and unique group of young people. And the potential within that distinctive group, those unconventional friendships built, is limitless. It proves that we can work together, no matter how varying our beliefs, for the good of the world. We are the future, and as we step onto the stage to perform in front of the world, we give ourselves an opportunity to make amazing changes in so many ways. Just with one step. Shuang Li competing in the women's snowboard cross finals Attending other events was also a significant step on my Olympic journey. Seeing how other athletes in incredibly different sports work and compete was huge. The women's snowboard half-pipe was definitely one of my favorites. It really gave me a new perspective and sense of respect for those girls--they completely huck themselves! So awesome and inspiring. I want to bring that fearless flight into my sport, and hope I can push it like those girls do theirs. although I cannot tell or recall, I believe I took this delirious photograph at a men's hockey game Another one of my favorite events was ski jumping... I have watched ski jumping countless times on the TV over here in Europe, but have never understood the magnitude of the jump/landing. It was really neat to see it in person, and gave me a new respect for that sport as well. Having my family in Sochi was so huge for me. It was a serious event, surrounded by serious people, so to have my parents and sisters there to lighten things up was really meaningful. We got to explore the actual city of Sochi, which was incredibly different from any of the Olympic venues. There were definitely signs of Olympic happenings all around the city, but it felt so raw compared to all of the other places I had experienced (the mountain villages, venues, etc) that were so recently built and updated. I'm glad I got to see a bit of the real Russia... It was a crazy interesting experience...I learned some remarkable things about competing, culture, friendship, and myself. I am so lucky to have raced in the Olympics, to have experienced the energy and spirit, to have been a part of such a huge event, to have met so many varying individuals. Thank you to everyone who has supported me along my journey...your love and kind words mean the world to me. Although my Olympic performance wasn't perfect, it was good. I went in with no expectations; I just wanted to soak up the experience, live in the moment and leave with no regrets. And I did just that. So I'm smiling :) Below are a few pictures I took while walking around Krasnaya Polyana. Enjoy. Peace and love. a beautiful, but sadly unfinished building finishing up a paint job. this and similar sights were extremely common around Sochi lots and lots of trash cans...where they were supposed to go I'm not sure... a different angle some more interesting trash cans... just what you see <3 <3 <3
(goodbye, Sochi)
I'm sitting in the airport in Sochi, waiting to depart. The last few days have been pretty nuts--a crazy super-g race (women's AND men's!), a USA Olympic hockey game, exploring the Olympic park, packing, and soaking in the last little bit of all the possible. The super-g race two days ago was so tough. It was a challenging set on a difficult hill...and when starting early is often an advantage, it was definitely not the case on that day. Leanne started 2nd, and she was the first girl to make it to the bottom. When I, bib 7, came through the finish (after skiing out on the bottom section), Leanne was still the only racer on the board. That was a bit of a surprise... but neat that Leanne was winning the Olympics for a while!!! My family, being my wonderful family, thought Leanne would win the race, and also suggested that I ask for a 'redo.' Spectacular. Unfortunately, I just didn't have enough direction coming off the bottom jump, and, as it turns out, flew a lot further than I did in the downhill. I landed nearly at the next gate, and couldn't pull the late line off on the steep bottom pitch. Once I knew I was going to miss a gate, I decided to ski switch for style points... Hah. If only. |
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April 2021
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