Poppin’ Wheelies & Burning Down the Woods – Ladies Adventure Ride 2014

Photo by Staci Beach

Who wants a hot one?

After a long weekend of drinking hot beer and accidentally mashing a chocolate muffin all over my chicken nuggets, I remembered that I don’t totally love camping. What I do love is riding dirtbikes with 14 other women through the back roads of Central Oregon. I’ll put up with night-peeing in the cold and fighting my way out of sweaty pants inside my tent forever to go ride with these amazing people.

Learning to ride my dirtbike has been an intense journey frought with heat exhaustion and wipeouts. I’ve had a lot of street bikes over the years, and have always loved the freedom that comes with riding and maintaining my own motorcycle. Who doesn’t? So when I started dating Eli, who prefers riding off-road, I got my first dirtbike. It was a 1993 KDX250 which was too tall for me, had a 2-stroke motor that needed a new top-end, and the white hand of Saruman slapped on the rear fender. He would just take me riding wherever he wanted to go, figuring that I would pick it up quick and be able to keep up, because I am one of the Uruk-hai. So I would try with all my might to follow him and keep up, because I am one of the Uruk-hai, and supposedly a tough girl. Instead, I would do things like run into trees, burn myself on my exhaust header, fall entirely off of the trail and get stuck under a tree root, drop my bike 13 times in a row in the sand, get overheated, cry, try to take a G.D. break for one fucking second, lean my bike up against the Brown’s Camp sign but then tragically drop it and injure my shoulder somehow. Every ride was an incredibly physical battle, and I couldn’t understand how everyone else was so much better at it. read more

Ay Yo, Fuck Reality!

This is the difference.

This is the difference.

Over the winter I got really good at cramming dildos onto overly full shelves, determining which Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figures had battle shells, and falling off of the last move of Seven Spanish Angels. It’s strange to think that after I stopped working in the Amazon warehouse that my tasks became MORE repetitive. Obviously I am exaggerating… of course I crammed more than 75 dildos onto a shelf, I’m a professional.

What happens to your mind after you have fallen off of the same thing 75 times though? What is the timeline of this failure? Is it longer than I will live?! Is it longer than I will be in Bishop for, anyway? read more

Left Fork Pool Boyz

One of the underbosses throwing the LF by the pool.

One of the underbosses throwing the LF by the pool.

This is the tale of my initiation and rise to the top of the Left Fork Pool Boyz gang.  POOL BOYYYZ!

It all began on a rest day in Joe’s Valley. I was sitting by the river thinking about how shitty and ugly this slow-moving section was, when three big scary dudes walked up and started rearranging it with their fists. MAKE A POOL HERE. I joined in; a lot of gangs initiate you by beating you up, but we just spent almost an entire day moving one giant log. It was an initiation of will.  The Pool Boyz became my family, and we had each other’s backs. Live by the pool, die by the pool. read more

Enjoying Moe’s Valley

Stay tuned for a longer video we are making featuring all the easier climbs we enjoyed in Moe’s, and read more about how easy it is to enjoy Moe’s Valley.

Forever Butthurt

“Why didn’t you just walk up the other side?” -Most reasonable people

What is she even doing up there?

What is she even doing up there?

Well, I sure don’t know! It is hard to explain, or even justify bouldering as a sport, much less something to dedicate your life to. Somewhere, in every climber brain, there is a rationalization for the obsession, and it’s just hanging out at a party, talking about postmodernism, and not caring if you care. This rationalization lives in the corner of the mind where good things happen to good people, polar bears are soft, and the internet wants you to win free laptops. It doesn’t need you, but it knows you need it. read more