Andrew Hou (1990 - 2007)
Tuesday July 31, 2007
ONTARIO: A Boy Scout troop's canoeing expedition went terribly wrong yesterday at Big Canoe River, Cuttle Lake, with the accidental deaths of two young Boy Scouts.
A Boy Scout to the very end, Andrew Hou, 17, drowned while trying to rescue one of his fellow Boy Scouts after their canoe overturned in a freak accident.
Andrew Hou failed despite his best efforts.
Both he and his friend drowned before their friends could reach them.
"No words can adequately express how sorry we are," A representative of the The Northern Tier High Adventure Base told reporters. "It won't happen again. We promise. Beginning in December, the public may participate in the challenging cold-weather camping program called Okpik. We've lowered rates considerably in the light of this tragedy."
The Northern Tier High Adventure Base facilitated the canoeing expedition that Andrew Hou and his troop signed up for.
"That was how he would have wanted to go," A close friend of Andrew who declined to be named said. "He lived as he died."
A wake for Andrew Hou was held in his home in Seattle, Washington last night.
"What I don't understand is wasn't Andrew in his physical prime? Wasn't he a great swimmer?" A member of the Hou family who declined to be named told the massive crowd at the wake. "I don't understand. I don't understand."
There wasn't a dry eye at the wake as friend after friend, relative after relative, and news crew after news crew took turns to reflect on the life Andrew lived.
Oldest child prodigy alive. Model student. Celebrated pianist. Acclaimed mathematician. Renowned motivational speaker. Indispensable handyman. Star Wars fanatic. Loyal brother. Filial son. Friend of friends. Likable geek.
The list goes on.
The Hou family, already exhausted and emotionally spent, had gone to bed by 1 AM. But the wake continued without them as people flocked from all around the world to pay their respects.
People from China, Malaysia, Singapore, England, Australia, India, and even Madagascar dropped what they were doing and caught the first flight to the United States.
"Oh, no, I don't know him personally," A tall Indian man who declined to be named, but insisted on including his nationality, told reporters. "I just read his blog. He was indeed a talented boy. Very talented. He had very good English. It was only right that I came to say farewell to this boy I do not know personally."
CNN's Kathy Paik who was at the scene was astounded at the turnout.
"This is incredible," She said. "Two Boy Scouts die and only one is honoured? What about the other guy, what's-his-name? This is simply unfair. This is an excellent example of how biased the media is today."
As for me,
your intrepid and impartial reporter, I couldn't stop the tears from flowing.
Unfair or not, the crowds, the news crews, and the tears - they spoke volumes about the lives Andrew Hou had touched during the brief period of time he had on this planet.
Rest in peace, Andrew the Boy Scout.
Northern Tier
I'm going to be gone. For a long time. Until the 10th of August, exactly. Boy Scouts is leading me to northern Minnesota and southern Ontario, where I'll be at Northern Tier High Adventure Base. Canoeing will be my thing for the next two weeks, and I'll have paddled over a hundred miles by the time I return. It's quite a trip, and I expect to get a lot out of it. I'll be stronger, from daily paddling. I'll have made closer friends in my crew. I'll be closer to God, from the daily services we will hold. And, I'll have one heckuva tan-line, one that can almost compete with the one I got from the Seattle to Portland. Look forward to guest posts, some under my name, some not. Have a great summer!!!
thinkandrew
Fishy Fishy Fish
I decided that a very large picture of a very large fish being held up by a very large Native American carved in stone would make a very nice header-picture for my post today. I took this picture at my Deception Pass camping trip last week; the statue must stand about fifteen feet tall. What's even scarier is that when I walked around to the other side, I realized that the statue had a different face holding the same fish in the opposite direction. The fish is a Pacific Northwest Salmon, though I'm not sure what the significance of the statue is. There was a plaque, but that was covered by overgrown shrubs.
Eagle Projects happen en-mass during this time of year, due to the excellent weather and lack of other responsibilities. I recently finished mine, which I had put off until the summer because I was to lazy to work in the rain. A friend of mine just had the second work party of his project today, which I went to help out at. He was putting in thirty nine steps into a slope that would lead down to a neighborhood park. The steps were made out of lumber that retained gravel, they're also to act as a sort of drainage system when it rains. Being that there was limited workspace (the steps are only three feet wide), it was difficult to have more than two or three people working on a particular step at a time. Even though we split the work group into two teams (one to work up, one to work down), the majority of the work party resembled the
Tostitos commercial that was on Superbowl XL. The one with the three people just standing around talking, while the fourth works hard?
Garage sale-ing today led itself to some interesting finds. After quite a few junky sales, I finally found myself at a garage sale with such an eclectic collection of items that I could most likely walk away with something. Having recently developed an interest in golfing, three sets of golf clubs caught my eye. They were in bad condition, and probably not of good quality even in their prime. However, it's really hard to beat a one dollar price tag for a set of ten clubs plus a bag. They'll be great to practice a swing with, and if they turn out to be completely worthless, I'm sure I'll find a way to get rid of them.
After I got home, and cracked open the newspaper, I discovered that the garage sale was one of items from a
homicide victim's home. I'm glad I didn't try to bargain the price.
thinkandrew
Hurting Feet
It's a dull throbbing pain that aches on the bottom of my feet. I have to walk gingerly across the carpet, less the rough fibers irritate my soles. They're somewhat raw. What I learned today is that wearing flip-flops over the mud-flats and clam beds of Puget Sound probably isn't the best idea.
You see, my best friend and I had planned to go kayaking this morning. And we did, though at great expense to our feet. Having planned and gotten excited about our kayaking excursion, a little thing like low tide couldn't prevent us from wanting to go. She has two 10 foot long kayaks, which we loaded onto a little dolly to take down the steep road to the waterfront. It's pretty much walking on our heels the entire way down, leaning back to stop the kayaks from running away. When we reached the bottom of our mini-mountain, I was expecting to see a beach of smooth rocks to the water front, and that we could simply carry the kayaks out to the water. Instead, I saw oyster beds, clam beds, exposed mud flats, and mountains and mountains of barnacles. When walking on muddy barnacles, it's not long before flip-flops get slippery enough to not really do a good job of acting as shoes. It didn't help that my friend didn't have any shoes with her, so we tried switching off for a while. It wasn't long before we determined that the best course of action would be to go back and get her a pair of shoes.
Lifting a forty pound kayak on the mud flats beyond the clam beds isn't terribly difficult. Carrying it any distance, though, is a completely different predicament. Puget Sound mud sucks your feet right up to the knees, and grabs at your shoes. We had to take slow steps, to make sure that when our feet went into the mud, they came back out with all of our shoes and toes. Eventually, we got both kayaks out onto the water, and hopped in. The wonderful thing about kayaks is that they float in minimal amounts of water. The tide was low enough that we could see the muddy bottom from above.
We paddled around for over an hour, talking, laughing, and eating the snacks that we brought along with us. The tide made its way back into shore, and we headed back in as well. Pushing the kayaks up the hill was not quite as fun as holding them back from behind, but we got them up there eventually. The caked-on mud on the kayaks needed to be scrubbed off, after which we left them out in the sun to dry. There was mud on our feet that needed to be scrubbed off too, which in the process of doing which, we realized that our feet were torn up. Oh well. It was a great time, out on the water, out in the sun. I had fun!
thinkandrew
Rough Hands
It's Thursday night, which means that we have to take out the garbage tonight. Every Friday morning is Garbage Day, where the garbage man comes through our neighborhood to dispose of our household waste. However, the days are gone of a man hanging on the side, throwing the contents of cans into the back of the truck. The garbage trucks operated by
Pacific Garbage Disposal have these nifty robotic arms that pick up the can, empty it, and replace it on the curb all by themselves. The driver doesn't even need to lean out the window to watch the arm, there's a camera within the arm. To guarantee service, we have to have the cans out on the street by 6 am, so we'll put it out tonight. There's a separate can for our recyclable materials, but we only put that out every fortnight. Large stacks of newspaper leave my hands black, so I'm glad I won't have to deal with them until next week.
Driving home from golf lesson today, we passed by Capitol Lake, a picturesque man-made lake that reflects the state capitol. The sun was shining its last rays of light onto the dome, and an early moon hovered right around the tip of the spire. It was a beautiful scene, I almost had my dad stop the car to take a picture, but decided against it. With digital cameras, it's possible to take hundreds and hundreds of non-stop photographs. I have gigabytes of image data, and I rarely ever look at any of them. Besides, beautiful pictures of the capitol hold no emotions or memories for me. Photographs of people are the ones worth keeping, the ones of friends and family sharing in certain events. I've begun to weed out the pictures that I no longer care for, the ones that are just eating up space on my hard drive. It's kind of like throwing away that shoebox of slides that sits in the basement, it's just as hard.
Speaking of golf, I got to play with a driver for a while, instead of irons. Hitting a ball over 150 yards is progress, I suppose, but it's better when it's actually going in the direction that I'm aiming. A few good shots really sent my heart soaring, it feels good to finally be progressing somewhat. I'm making blisters and developing callouses on the palms of my hand. That's a good thing. I'm likely to build many more this summer, canoeing up in the Boundary Waters. Rough hands show signs of use, and ability to work. Moisturize all you want, having able-bodied hands is the sign of a true hard worker.
thinkandrew
Nighty Night
I spent a long time working on my golf swing today. My best friend got me hooked, and I've been taking lessons with my brother at a local club. We go out there maybe twice in three weeks, though this week, I'm having two lessons. As with every sport, there are lots of small nuances that you'd never feel until you actually picked up a club. However, they seem much more subtle in golf; the smallest twitch can throw your pitch completely off. It was exciting today, though, because I found one thing that I was doing wrong, fixed it, and slid right into a groove. I was consistently hitting the ball over 100 yards every shot, in the direction I was aiming for. With a Five Iron, that may not be very impressive, but I was pretty happy that the ball was finally going straight. That's about as far as I've ever hit the ball, too. A real confidence boost, to be sure. My best friend said she'd let me borrow a set of clubs some time, to go out and play a few holes. I can't wait.
The Scoutmaster Conference went very well, it lasted nearly two hours. The topics we spoke about were wide and varied, covering almost all the points of my Scouting journey up until now. Of course, we opened with the most Scoutmaster-esque question of all, a question that I've heard many many times. "Now, Andrew, tell me something about yourself that has nothing to do with Scouts." We did paperwork, talked about the process of turning in my application, the heritage of Eagle Scouts, my Scoutmaster's past experiences in Scouting, just about everything there was to say in an evening. It never quite seemed like a Conference, but more of a very deep discussion of Scouting with someone who shared my interests. I enjoyed it a lot.
It's been shaping up to be a very long week. Tomorrow morning, I'll be out at the driving range again, working on my swing once again. Jazz piano lessons roll around right after lunch, and I've still got packing to do for my trip to Minnesota. Sunday night near midnight is when our plane will be leaving, and that date is rapidly approaching. For some reason, I don't feel the knot of excitement that I normally get when I leave on such trips. There's no jittery feelings, no non-stop talk about leaving. Just a growing realization in the back of my mind that I'll soon be gone for two weeks. But when I set foot on that plane to Minneapolis, I can guarantee that there will be butterflies in my stomach. Almost as many as when I step on the plane to return home to a real shower.
thinkandrew
A Long Trail
Cleaning up after all the mess was quite an operation. Wet tents needed to be dried out, sleeping bags hung up to air, and at least three loads of laundry were to be done. Sleeping bags were spread out all over banisters of our deck, and we spent a while spreading the tent on the floor of the deck. The sun shone, for the first time in the last week, and dried up all of the rain that we brought home from Deception Pass with us. Tomorrow, we'll be able to pitch the tent up in our backyard, and sweep up all of the dirt and pine needles that hitch-hiked along with us, too. It's not the most pleasant of chores, but it's gotta be done, I suppose.
A fairly long Boy Scout meeting was held tonight, though not particularly longer than normal. I was actually there until 8:55, as there was an extra meeting for the crews heading out to Northern Tier. It's almost time for the two-week long canoeing trip in the Boundary Waters of Minnesota and Ontario, we're leaving on Sunday evening. It seems as if I've just been gone so often during this summer, and that this blog has been somewhat devoid of posts. I'll try to get someone to write a few for me, but it will not be regularly updated as it normally is. Rather, I will be having such a wonderful time with the Boy Scouts, hopefully covering up to 100 miles in the 10 days that we'll be on the water. Our pack-check was tonight as well, everything we'll need for two weeks will have to be compressed into two small stuff sacks, plus our sleeping bag and pad.
Tomorrow evening, I'll have my Scoutmaster Conference. A Scoutmaster Conference is a conference you hold with your Scoutmaster (no surprise there), it's somewhat of a heart-to-heart talk about Boy Scouts that's done every time you're ready to advance in rank. In previous ones that I've had, we've talked about my experiences in the Troop, my goals as a Scout, what I do outside of Boy Scouts, and how Scouting has been a very large part of my life. I have no doubt that tomorrow night, we'll have all that and much more. It's my Scoutmaster Conference for my Eagle Scout Rank, so it's a much bigger deal. We'll sit down at the dinner table, finish all sorts paperwork, and talk about my journey up to this point. I finished the last Merit Badge for Eagle Scout tonight: Family Life. Once tomorrow is over, all I have left is to turn in my application. I'm excited, but at the same time, somewhat subdued. It's been a long trail.
thinkandrew
Deception Pass
That was some trip. It was fun-filled, exciting, filled with good food, great company, and lots and lots of games. Just like you would expect any good family camping trip to have. However, it was also plagued by soaking wet clothes, a leaking tent, biting insects, and nearly constant rain. Just like any good Boy Scout camping trip. It was a wacky, zany, heckuva time this past weekend, and I had a total blast.
My little brother was working on his Cooking Merit Badge, which requires the cooking of six meals within a two day period. My mom saw this trip as the prime opportunity for him to complete that requirement, and had him plan out the menu for our first two days of the trip. I must admit that I was somewhat apprehensive of the idea, having my thirteen year-old little brother provide food for the whole family. However, I was pleasantly surprised, and ate very well for the entire trip. There was no lacking of food, we shouldn't have had a lack, as we brought a gigantic cooler the size and insulation power of a small refrigerator. A two-burner stove and a gas-powered barbecue was also towed along, and they were fired up for every meal.
When my mom showed me the weather report for this weekend, I almost burst out laughing. Every day was forecasted with rain, and the weatherman certainly didn't disappoint. Water droplets fell from the sky every day, but fortunately enough, it often waited until the late-afternoon or even the evening before beginning. However, it often rained heavily throughout the night, leaving our low-quality tent with a soaking wet floor. Having come across this problem while backpacking before, it wasn't completely new to me. It's never pleasant, though, to have to empty out the entire tent, dry everything off, then move it back in. My little brother's entire bag of clothing, and even a his library book, got damp from the rain. This happened nearly every night, except for the last, when we finally put down tarps on the floor of the tent, in addition to the ground sheet already underneath the tent. It's something to blog about, I suppose.
The rest of the trip was spent exploring Deception Pass State Park. It's really a picturesque area, right on the northern tip of Whidbey Island. Craggy bluffs littered the beaches, and were prime area to climb and explore. We went on a few short hikes, and enjoyed taking very many pictures. It was a great trip!
thinkandrew
Camping
It's about time that I go on a camping trip that's not related to the Boy Scouts. My family and I are leaving tomorrow morning. My
entire family, as my older brother has finally returned from school up at the University. A State Park is our destination, where we'll be until Monday afternoon. A long weekend away, in seclusion. Regular amenities like electricity and the Internet will not be accessible. More necessary amenities like bathrooms and showers will be present, though the showers are coin-operated and require 25 cents for a five minute dose of lukewarm water. There's a lake, too, so we might go swimming. There's the ocean, but who'd want to brave Puget Sound at any time of the year? The weather report predicts showers for the entire weekend, so I've been giving my mom a hard time about picking the perfect weekend. But even if all four days are spent inside our tent, I'm sure we'll have a great time. It'll be fun to hang out, as a complete family, for the first time in weeks. I'll see you all when I get back!
thinkandrew
Seattle to Portland, the Finish
It was nice to be able to wake up at a more manageable hour on the second day. To go to Seattle, I was up by 3:30 in the morning, and my entire family and I were in the car and out the driveway by 4. Since Centralia is about 20 miles down the highway from us, I was able to sleep in (relatively) to a more comfortable 4:30, leaving the house around 5. Arriving at Centralia College, people were still waking up and packing up their stuff. It sounded like a herd of animals just getting up to the sunrise, with feet and heads poking out of tents across the lawn. There was the rustle of sleeping bags, as well as the clickity-clicks of bicycles already ready to go. There was no hubbub, no start line, or any official send-off. It was simply 5:45, and myself, with about three other cyclists at that specific time, up for an early morning ride.
I took it easy for the first few miles, reminding myself of how worn out I was yesterday afternoon. I was trying to conserve my energy for later in the day, when I would really need it. I resolved to eat a lot more, as well. STP statistics say that the average cyclist burns over 3,900 calories during the ride. Only eating two energy bars and a few pieces of fruit yesterday obviously wasn't enough. I didn't quite learn my lesson, though, and was nearly ready to fall off my bike at the second rest stop. A bottle full of sports drink, an energy bar, a bagel, a banana, and two cookies later, I felt invigorated and ready for the rest of the ride. During the course of the day, I think I ate five more bananas, two more plums, at least another four bottles of water, two more energy bars, a strange tasting chicken-teriyaki wrap, and a very dry peanut-butter and jelly sandwich.
A stiff headwind was in our faces for pretty much the entire day, and pace-lines were essential for conserving energy. V-Flying geese use the same technique, letting the leader break the air while the followers benefit from the wind-shadow. I was riding with two other cyclists from the Bay Area, and we switched off every 12 miles or so to give us all equal opportunity to rest up. Sometimes, we would catch other pace-lines in front of us. Once, when I was in the lead, I looked behind to realize that not only was I leading my two riding parters, but about another 30 cyclists to almost fifty yards back. It was a pretty exciting feeling, to cruise along around 20 miles per hour.
The beautiful Lewis and Clark Bridge greeted us halfway into the second day. It's a two-lane bridge, crossing over the Columbia River. In an effort to improve safety, large groups of 300 or more were to be escorted by motorcycles while crossing the bridge, and traffic was shut off in our direction. It was a fairly steep climb to the top, with crosswinds buffeting us from the side. Coming down the other end, though, was about 38 miles per hour and an aggressive curve to the right. There were a few of those hills in the rolling roads of Oregon, and man, was there a rush from coming down them. It's probably as close as I'll ever get to flying without wings.
Highway 30 was our route for the last 30 miles or so, and highways aren't generally very scenic. Simply put, they're flat sections of asphalt going on and on for miles and miles. The nice thing was that riding on a highway meant that the road grades were never more than 4%. There were also very long stretches of very slight downhills, just enough for some moderate coasting. There weren't very many towns on that stretch of highway, so it was a shock when all of a sudden, you could see the outskirts of Portland off in the distance. There was suddenly a tangible goal to work towards, and a huge surge of energy sent my flying towards it. Even the last few hills into downtown seemed like nothing, I even called ahead to let my family know that I was approaching the finish line.
When I got there, it was all cheering and celebration. People were on the sidewalks snapping pictures, and a large banner flew over the entrance to Holladay Park. My family yelled and cheered, taking pictures, while someone shoved a bottle of water and a "Finisher" patch into my hands. And just like that, it was over. I had finished the longest ride of my life, with enough energy left to actually walk my bike back to the car myself. A dad grabbed my arm and brought me over to the "STP Merchandise" booth, where he bought me a "Finisher" t-shirt. Needless to say, it's pretty much my favorite item in my wardrobe right now. My dad says he'll ride it with me next year, and my brothers say they will soon, too. The Seattle to Portland was really an incredible feeling, an entire experience that has to be lived at least once by everyone. Amazing.
thinkandrew
Seattle to Portland, Elaboration
There's nothing really like it, finishing a double-century ride. I suppose it's akin to the rush you get when crossing the finish line of a marathon, or coming in the top ten in the IronMan Triathlons. It's a feeling like I'm capable of incredible feats, like it's one of the greatest moments of my life, like nothing is impossible anymore.
Leaving the University of Washington start line took quite a bit longer than I thought it would. Traffic was incredible, coming into Seattle. It was 5 o'clock in the morning, and we could already see groups of cyclists on the street. Many times, we stopped at intersections only to see crowds and crowds of all sorts of bikes, from road racers to mountain bikes, to recumbents, a bike trailer with a dog on it, a unicycle, and even a skateboard. I think the youngest person one the road was 8 years old, and the oldest had to be over 80. Every car in traffic had a bike rack, too, carting two or three bicycles at a time. From the highway exit to the Start Line itself, it took us nearly half an hour just to make it that far. But once we reached the start line, all I had to do was unload my bike, slap on some sunscreen, and it was time to go.
I officially left the University of Washington E-1 Parking Lot at 6:17 in the morning, in a group of about two hundred cyclists. We were sent off in ten-minute waves, to avoid overcrowding. Even then, it was difficult to go much faster than twelve miles an hour for the first five miles or so, with all the other bikes and traffic stops. It was a nice warm-up, though, a good chance to get the kinks out of my muscles. It was awkward, too, as I had no where to put my cycling glasses. It was too early in the morning to use them, so I sort of slipped them down to the tip of my nose, and looked over them. But soon, we found ourselves circling Lake Washington with the sun peeking out over the Olympic Mountains. What beautiful music.
Training mostly on hills in my town made the relatively flat STP route seem easy for the first fifty miles or so. I cruised into the first official food stop at mile 24, only having left a about an hour and a half ago. I found a few pace-lines, tucking into other people's wind-shadows to ease my own efforts. Many times, the entire line would hit close to 25 miles per hour, and we'd be making the road fly by. I even powered up the "Big Hill", a mile-long 7% grade at mile 43. Passing people on that hill felt pretty darn good, and the view was incredible from the top. Once I hit mile 60, though, it seemed as if a brick wall had placed itself in front of my tire. Already the longest distance I had ever ridden (yes, I know, I shirked myself on my training), I almost felt foolish for having left that morning. I still had all the physical energy I needed, I just had a mental block that made me want to stop. The endless stretch of Highway 507 just seemed like the most miserable ride I had ever been on.
But when I pulled into Centralia, it all felt worth it. There were people lining the streets, watching, and many people had placed sprinklers to spray the street, allowing us to cool ourselves off. Going over cobblestones into Centralia College, the half-way point, I raised my hands over my head as I finished my first century ride. Centuries have some perks, too, as registered riders got free creamsicles. Being hot (it was over 90 degrees) and hungry, I went through that station several times, eating three creamsicles. Cheap ice-cream has never tasted so good. Once I was there, there was nothing to do but pass out on the lawn, and wait for my parents to come pick me up for a comfortable night at home.
I'll finish the story tomorrow.
thinkandrew
Finishing Up
I spoke to a friend on the phone today.
"Hey, Andrew, how are your legs?"
"Oh, a little sore, but not as bad as I thought they would be."
"How about your rear-end?"
"...That one is a little bit more tender...."
I spent 204 miles in a bike saddle, and I'm not sure how long it's going to be before I want to hop onto a bike again. I spent an hour today cleaning it, though, so it's in tip-top shape, and ready to ride on the road whenever I feel up to it again. Which probably won't be for a while.
I did, though, spend the entire day enjoying company with my family and best friends. There was no shortage of food, either, and it did not involve bananas, peanut butter, or PowerBars. Donuts, clam chowder (the best in town!), and great home-made soup filled my stomach today, and I'm as happy as a clam.
thinkandrew
Seattle to Portland, Day 2
There aren't very many reasons for someone to want to wake up at 4:30 on a Sunday morning, especially during the summer. Nor would anyone in their right minds normally want to do that to ride 104 miles. But that's exactly what I, and more than six thousand other people, did just today. It was the second day of the Seattle to Portland Bicycle Classic, and I was ready to finish it.
Surprisingly, yesterday's ride didn't wear me out as much as I thought it would. My muscles were a little stiff, but that soon disappeared when I warmed up. My biggest fear was that I wouldn't be able to get out of bed for the second day, but I was able to roll out without a thought. A quick donut, breakfast bar, and two glasses of milk later, I found myself in Centralia, ready to leave for yet another century ride. Many people were still waking up, either just crawling out of bed, or putting away their tents. It was a very quiet morning, and as I left at 5:45, the sun was barely peeking out of the clouds. There was a slight chill in the air, and temperatures were lower than they were yesterday. But it wasn't long before I found myself in the groove, cruising along between 18-20 miles per hour.
Cycling has its own community, and everybody's always very friendly. When there's 9000 people out riding towards the same goal, it's not unlikely to find some chummy people. Two cyclists from the Bay Area in California graciously allowed me to ride with them all day today. It's so much easier to ride with others, both for the emotional and physical support. In a group of three, we could always guarantee some sort of pace-line, drafting behind each others' wind shadow. That was particularly helpful today, as a strong head-wind blew in our faces all day. It was particularly discouraging right around mile 40 or so, when it felt like it was impossible to break 20 mph. But all of a sudden, we realized it was only another ten miles to Oregon, and we hit a stride. The confidence boost from crossing the Lewis and Clark Bridge was amazing, and going down the other side at 38 miles an hour was nothing short of thrilling.
Most of the terrain we rode on in Oregon was fairly rolling, with ups and downs all the way. The ups weren't particularly hard, but were fairly long. The downs were steep, long, and sweet. When the entire pace-line shifts grips onto the handlebar-drops, and tucks into an aerodynamic position, we would hit upwards of 30 miles an hour. I'm a freak about maintaining my bike, and always make sure my parts are running as smoothly as possible. As such, I found myself overtaking many pedaling cyclists, while only tucking myself into the wind. It's really one of the biggest highs you can possibly get from cycling.
Coming into Portland, the last few miles took us right through downtown. I felt a new surge of energy, and powered up the last few bridges to the finish line. When we circled around the bend, and saw Holladay Park down the street, I raised both hands over my head as I neared the ribbons and fanfare. My family was cheering me on as I finished my first double-century, and the longest ride of my life. Am I going to be out there next year? More likely than not.
thinkandrew
Seattle to Portland, Day 1
I'm the silver-headed object in the middle. That's what this morning felt like, a complete and total blur. We left the house at four o'clock in the morning, and I left the Seattle to Portland Start Line at exactly 6:17 am. 100.2 miles passed underneath my wheels, and I arrived in Centralia after 6 hours, 34 minutes, and 34 seconds of riding time. Not bad, for my first century ride. The first day is over, and tomorrow will possibly be even longer. We'll see how sore I am in the morning. Right now, all I want to do is go to bed. For more than the four hours of sleep I got last night.
thinkandrew
Seattle to Portland Bicycle Classic
I swore it was one of those things I would do, but it just seemed as if I never actually did. It was a goal that was in the back of my mind, something that I thought would be incredibly awesome, but take too much work to be any more than just a dream. All of that changed when I bought a bicycle December. Suddenly, I had something that was forcing me out onto the road, and I found that I immensely enjoyed it. When registration opened for the Seattle to Portland in January, I was among the first to sign up. And now the time has come, and it's about time to hit the road.
The
Seattle to Portland Bicycle Classic begins tomorrow morning, and I'll be right at the start line. The gates are open between 5:15 and 7:30, and I hope to be among the first groups to head out. It's gonna be one heckuva ride, with 8,999 other cyclists on the street with me. Totaling out at 202.25 miles, it's going to be the longest ride of my life. The start line is at the University of Washington E-1 parking lot, the halfway point being at Centralia College. From there, I will take a break for the night, and continue on the second day. Riding just over 100 miles, I hope to finish it in under seven and a half hours. That goal is fairly realistic, it's actually slower than my average speed for my training rides. If all goes according to plan, I'll be at home by 3 in the afternoon.
We went shopping today, for "energy food". I'm not a great fan of such foods, but they're light, and full of stuff to keep me going. One ounce of energy-gel (a gooey mess in a packet) holds 110 calories, and a two ounce PowerBar holds 240 calories. All of these unpalatable healthy-foods, along with a few sachets of electrolyte drink mix, will be in my little saddle bag for the long day tomorrow. A wallet and cellphone will be imperative, in case of emergencies.
Hopefully, I'll be able to group up with a few friendly cyclists tomorrow. It's going to be a wonderful experience, and hopefully something that I'll be doing annually for years to come. Finishing the first day shouldn't be a problem. Whether or not I want to wake up for the next will be the real question.
thinkandrew
Bushmaster NYLT
Bushmaster National Youth Leadership Training took me by surprise. Scouting is my thing, something that I've thrown myself completely into. There have been a few times where I was completely impressed with the quality of the Scouting around me, where I felt as if I was completely immersed in the actual core of what Scouting should be. One time was at
Philmont. The most recent time was at Bushmaster NYLT. At this course, I felt as if every person there came together for a common purpose, to teach and learn leadership skills to improve Scouting. I had an amazing time, and loved every minute of it.
As much as I missed my blog, I must say that I wasn't thinking about it a whole lot while out at Camp Delezenne. Leaving on Friday morning, the seven days at Bushmaster finally ended this afternoon. It's great to be home, and as much as I love Scouting, it's nice to think of something else for a few hours. Bushmaster was designed to have about a month of camping, troop meetings, and skill lessons squeezed into the short period of six days. About fifty scouts were split into six different patrols, which were dispersed to six different campsites around Camp Delezenne. There, we would eat and sleep, while during the day, we would come into the main camp area for lessons and activities. My patrol consisted of nine older scouts; we christened our patrol the "Angry Beavers".
Each morning, we would awaken to pick up our breakfast ingredients at 6:30 am. These ingredients would then be brought back to the campsite, where the chefs of the day (as determined by a duty roster) would prepare our meal. Being the furthest campsite away from Main Camp, it was to our benefit to wake up nearer to 6:00. 8:15 was the deadline to have the meal finished and dishes washed, as at that time we would attend the Flag Raising Opening Assembly. The day would then be jam-packed with PowerPoint and video presentations, as well as different activities. Model troop meetings would be held, where different skills were taught to the skills. Lots of time was left for Ultimate Frisbee and Kick-Ball games, too. A particularly fun activity was First-Aid, where we made fake skin and blood, turning one Scout's elbow into a bloody mess missing the forearm.
If there's anything Boy Scouts love, it's acronyms. Each leadership skill taught at Bushmaster had a mnemonic acronym attached, for easy memory. SMART Goals were set, which were taught with the Teaching EDGE. To asses what needs to be done to achieve a goal, we use SSC, and to resolve conflicts, we must use EAR. MaSeR taught us to communicate effectively, and ROPE ensures that we value people.
All of these different acronyms led us to achieve our personal visions for success. A vision is an elephant, and to eat an elephant, you must eat it one small bite at a time. Be, Know, and Do is the Bushmaster mantra. All of these skills are ones that I will apply for years to come.
thinkandrew
Goodbye
Happy times in SeattleThis blog is dead. But don't worry, it's only a temporary death. I'll be back by Thursday, the 12th. Summertime has rolled around, and there's very little time that can be justified to spend indoors. That's right, folks, Andrew's going on another camping trip. This trip is just the first six days of nearly a month or more of camping that I'll be doing this summer. While I won't be writing, there certainly won't be a lack of reading material, which can be found
here, here, or
here. On this particular trip, it won't be simply a camping trip. I'll be attending Bushmaster National Youth Leadership Training, a week-long Boy Scout program run out in the woods. It'll be like every
Junior Leadership Training weekend that I've ever attended, and more so. I'm not sure how many Scouts will be attending, but they'll be from all over the Pacific Harbors Council. There's really no indication of what I can expect, except that previous attendees tell me that it's a great experience. I'll be walking into camp with an open mind, ready to have a blast.
Not two days after I return from Bushmaster, will I be riding in the
Seattle to Portland Bicycle Classic. It's a 202.25 mile bike ride, split up into two days. I said that this blog was dead, but that was a lie. To say that I'll be dead is a fairly accurate assumption. My training has been lacking, though I think my level of physical fitness is high enough that I'll be able to complete the ride. The question is whether or not I roll into Portland at 9 o'clock at night. This Cascade Bicycle Club event is a fully supported ride, so there are food and water stops, and the ever-important Port-a-Potty stops. Showers are forecasted for the first day, though, so we'll see what happens. I know I'll make it. But I'll probably have to be dragged home.
Goodbye! I'll be back in a week.
thinkandrew
Good Day
It turned out to be a very good day. Even though I spent the majority of the day power-washing and re-sealing the deck, I still feel as if I celebrated a great holiday. We grilled some chicken, which counts as our barbeque. My little brother threw a frisbee around in the evening, which counts as our game-for-the-day. We even attended the City's fireworks display tonight. Though it wasn't as good or as exciting as previous years', it was still a fun show to watch. It's been a long day full of hard work, and I'm looking forward to a relaxing day tomorrow with my friends. Sleep beckons.
thinkandrew
Fourth of July
I've no doubt in my mind that both tonight and tomorrow night will filled with insomnia. No, I do not have a sleep disorder, nor is Mars lined up against me to prevent me from having a restful night. Rather, there will be almost non-stop noise and excitement, who'd want to go to bed? You see, it's almost the Fourth of July, the most hallowed day of American Independence. It's also one of only two holidays in a calendar year where fireworks can legally be set off. The other day is New Year's, conveniently six months from now so that people can get their fireworks fill twice a year. The sparkling cascades from the sky are beautiful to watch, and the loud noise is just part of the experience. It's gonna be a long and fun night.
Fourth of July celebrations are huge every year. Parades will be filling the street tomorrow morning, and the sweet smell of barbeque ribs, hamburgers, and especially hot-dogs will be filling every neighborhood in the nation tomorrow afternoon.
Nathan's Famous in New York City will be having their annual Hot-Dog Eating Contest again tomorrow, where competitors routinely eat more than fifty HDB's (Hot-Dogs and Buns) in the ten minutes alloted. The defending champion with a six year reign has a serious challenge this year, though, so be sure to watch it on TV. The United States eats enough HDB's every July Fourth to go to the moon and back four times! It's quite an accomplishment of consumerism that only a nation such as ours could achieve. I've already had my own hot-dog party, where seven people managed to eat nearly thirty hot-dogs. Not quite a record, but a nice hustle anyway.
Fireworks, non-stop fireworks! My neighbors are setting them off right now, and a huge show across town is just finishing up as I write this post. There seems to be a huge obsession with blowing things up around here, multi-colored explosions are preferable. Tomorrow night, the city's biggest fireworks show will be held over a driving range, the only field in town large enough to hold the thousands of people that come out for the early evening festivities. My little brother was out shooting off some of our own fireworks tonight, on the driveway. Some friends had given us a large bag two years ago, and only now have we been able to finish them all off. Obviously, we're not huge fans of shooting off our own fireworks. I think they're much more fun to watch, anyway.
My best friend and her family will be heading off to a friend's property on the water tomorrow, where there will be a huge party. I've known people that have little private planes, and they fly over Seattle on the Fourth of July to watch the fireworks from an entirely different perspective. It'd all be great fun.
I'm not entirely positive how my family is going to partake in the festivities that will be going on all tomorrow. It seems that this year's Fourth is just going to be a slow celebration by ourselves, as few of the family is home this year. Currently, my schedule calls for mowing the lawn, power-washing the deck (our yearly chore), and practicing piano. We might go out to see the parade (I saw the firemen decorating their truck today, it looked great!), or perhaps even the fireworks show in the evening (it's great, but fireworks get old after a while). Whatever we do, I'm sure it'll be a great Fourth. Happy Fourth of July!!!
thinkandrew
Finally Driving?
Freedom is something that I've had for a long time. With an unlimited bus-pass and a bicycle, I've basically had the whole run of the town. Having a chauffeur (thanks, mom!) at home is also very helpful. There's never really been a time that I've wanted to go somewhere, but couldn't due to lack of transportation. It's just never been an issue. However, it is about time that I learned how to drive. One of the first posts I ever wrote on this blog was about how I had
no drive to drive. Now, there is a lingering want in the back of my mind to be behind the wheel of a car. I'm not jumping out of my seat to be able to cruise for hundreds of miles, arm out the window, picking up girls, and a sub-woofer thumping out the back window. Driving is a practical skill I would like to have, and it's about time I learned.
There's a booklet that the Washington Department of Licensing distributes, with all the information needed for the written driver's test. Most of the information seems rather moot, and would be things that are road-tested by instinct, rather by book knowledge. When I park, I know how close is close enough, and when I'm on the freeway, I have a feel of how far ahead I'm supposed to look. I highly doubt that any driver thinks in "park within 12 inches of the curb" or "look ten seconds ahead, or about a quarter-mile" terms. However, such knowledge and experience has to be somehow quantified in order to be tested on paper, and such numbers are the result. The manual is incredibly boring, but I somehow have to pour through it, commit the numbers to memory, and test on them. Since learn-and-forget is a skill that I'm great at, I'll make sure to be reading the book just before I go into the test.
Actually driving a car should be more intimidating, than just knowing the theoretical part. Already having much road experience from cycling, following the rules of the road should not be a very difficult thing to do. Unbeknown to most drivers, bicycles are full vehicles on the road, and must follow all rules as such. Driving a car will be somewhat different, though, as a sense of how wide the vehicle is must be acquired. It can be scary, too, feeling so much power underneath the hood. Vehicles are behemoths that actually move under your control, the slightest twitch on the pedal will make it roar.
It's a great responsibility, being able allowed to drive a car out on the road. I suppose I do somewhat look forward to it, but it won't be until next May that I'll be a fully without-restrictions driver. Until then, I'm satisfied with my bike. I'm a cyclist first and foremost.
thinkandrew
Glorious Mailbox
I saw one of those in Downtown Seattle last Sunday, while on my best friend's
birthday trip. An inner-geekiness drove me to take a picture with what must be among the coolest collection of mailboxes in the world. The United States Postal Service helped celebrate the 30th Anniversary of Star Wars, on May 25th. In part of their celebrations, these mailboxes were distributed across the country. As none of them are located in my hometown, I've been keeping an eye out for them every time I headed into the big city. When I finally found one, it was non-stop camera snapping for about five minutes. And here it is, in all its glory.
thinkandrew
