John Wayne Pioneer Trail

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Back in the day, my family and I lived in a small, cute suburban home on the outskirts of the Twin Cities area in Minnesota. The neighborhood was nice and safe and we loved to get out and bike around. My brothers and I each had those little Wal-Mart ‘BMX’ fixed gear bikes and we’d often set up piles of dusty garage wares and practice our bunny-hops or see who could get down the alley the fastest. At one point, we even tried the infamous bike swap, which wound up with us all laying in a bleeding, scraped, groaning heap in the middle of the alley, complete with handlebar bruises and torn up jeans. Ah, the good ol’ days.

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In the morning, low clouds rolled in on our path, making for damp trails and some mysterious looking power posts.

Now, whenever I’m on my bike, the feelings of those days return to me in my mind and in my heart. Biking is still just as fun now as it was then, except now I can go faster… a lot faster. Most of my new homies around campus like biking as well, so naturally, when PSO announced that they were taking a bike day-trip out into the Snoqualmie area on the John Wayne Pioneer Trail, I grabbed my pal Tyler and we signed up ASAP.

At the turn-around point of our journey, we caught a few glimpses of groups of climbers ascending a couple faces right off of the bike path.

At the turn-around point of our journey, we caught glimpses of a group of climbers ascending a face right off of the bike path.

The section of the John Wayne Trail that we traversed was around 10 miles (we rode the route out and back for a total of around 20 miles) beginning at the Hyak Trailhead. It included many sweeping mountain views, ample fresh air, multiple railroad trellises, and, oh yeah, a two-mile long, unlit, stone tunnel that literally goes through a mountain. Let me just say, it was cold in there. The trailhead was around an hour and fifteen minutes from campus and was nearly empty when we showed up there on that beautiful Saturday morning.

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The foreboding entrance of the Snoqualmie Tunnel just up trail from the Hyak trailhead.

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The eastern end of the tunnel, complete with a massive, wooden header.

The John Wayne Trail is interesting in and of itself because its surface is a graveled over, two lane path that rests upon what used to be an old railroad grade for the Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Paul & Pacific Railroad until it was converted around the year 1980. Its total length is around 300 miles and it claims to be one of the longest rail-to-trail bike paths in the country.

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Brock, a fellow Minnesotan, slaying the stone like it’s his day job.

With all of that being said, I would highly recommend the John Wayne for either a day-trip or an extended camping endeavor. Due to the fact that it used to be a railroad grade, the topography changes overall are extremely gradual, in fact, the trail oftentimes feels essentially flat. Remember that if you’re going to leave a car parked at the trailhead you need some sort of paid pass that will ensure you don’t turn a free trip into an expensive one due to the ever-so-unfortunate parking ticket.

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The most natural group photo I’ve ever taken.

So, until next time, make some time to get out and enjoy the glorious fall weather!

& Happy trails,

Colton Born

Rainier

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Driving the streets of San Francisco in the morning, I see fleeting fragments of the Golden Gate Bridge pass in and out of view between buildings and the leaves of low-hanging trees. Shrouded in fog, the bridge is like a spectre, continually appearing and disappearing beyond the city.

Mount Rainier is a similar ghost, overhanging Tacoma like a mirage, its white crown hidden between shadowy clouds that trap sunlight and don’t let it go. Walking up Commencement Path from the library to a class in Wyatt Hall, a hood pulled over my head, I catch glimpses of the mountain between the ivy cords that cover the façade of Jones Hall and between the lachrymose clouds that cling to the bluing hills in the distance. The ghost of Rainier is as evanescent as my breath, materializing and dematerializing in the cold air. My breath passes away.

At a clearing on Todd Field, where Mount Rainier is visible between Commencement Hall and Regester Hall, several students stand with cell phones in their hands, desperately trying to capture images of the ghost between drops of rain. Others stand and only watch, knowing that a ghost is not a ghost if you take a picture of it.

As I climb the stairs of Wyatt Hall, I peer out of the east-facing windows and watch fragments of Mount Rainier pass me by.

Your roommate gone? Try these out

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It’s happening again. My roommate is gone for the weekend. That means I have our room ALL to myself. What do I do? What don’t I do? The possibilities are endless! Play video games all night? Watch Game of Thrones? Go out and come back obscenely late? Have a girl over? Hah, who am I kidding? Any high school graduate knows that girls have cooties.

I’ll figure out something to do with my Saturday night, eventually, probably, hopefully. But what about you? What should you do if your roommate(s) is gone? I can think of a couple things:

  • Hang out with the people on your floor! Saying “Hi” in the hallway isn’t gonna cut it. If you haven’t already, talk to your floor-mates! Go grab some pizza at The Cellar, catch a show somewhere on campus or go off campus and check out Tacoma! We were all accepted for a reason, and that’s because we’re insanely awesome!
  • Netflix. No, not Netflix and Chill, just Netflix, and probably snacks. But if you’re down for some chilling, all power to you. Despite our university’s spotty wi-fi at times, we can still stream some of our favorite shows and movies on our second favorite website (first is Amazon). If you’re short on snacks, pop over to The Cellar for pizza, ice cream and soda, all part of a balanced college diet. Hey, you can even invite your floor-mates and friends over to watch!
  • ALL THE SNACKS. Just eat all the snacks in your room. You know you’ve always wanted to. Just tell your roommate a raccoon or deer or something beat you up and took all the snacks.
  • Mess with your roommates stuff. (Caution: Only do this if you and your roommate have established it is okay to prank on another.) Have you ever seen those videos where someone goes on vacation only to discover their co-workers have filled their cubicle with balloon? Do that. Wrap their stuff in tin foil. Rearrange all of their stuff. Completely redecorate the room without telling them. Put their stuff in jello. The possibilities are endless!
  • Enjoy the privacy. Most of us were used to having a room to ourselves before coming here. Then we got stuck with a roommate and have had pretty much no privacy since. How long has it been since you had a room to yourself? Enjoy it while it lasts.
  • Sit around and wait for them to come back. Admit it. Once they walked out of the door, you started missing them. For most people, their roommate is their best friend. If anything, you got used to having someone around. There’s no shame in staring at the door, waiting for that knob to turn.

The list goes on and on. I hope these help you overcome the boredom of not having a roommate for a little while. Have fun!

Finding Peace on Mt. Rainier..and other ways to practice Self Love College Style

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Last weekend, I went on a PSO day hike in Mt. Rainier national park. I found myself, on the last Saturday of September, which was resplendently sunny and golden-lit, 6,000 feet up and blissfully content.

We took a few moments before hiking back down the trail to meditate and write at the top of the world, and it was the happiest fiteen minutes I had enjoyed in weeks. I wrote a poem about mountains and God. I munched on vanilla almond granola. I felt beauty soak into the pores of my skin. I found peace.

This experience was part of a commitment to myself this semester, to practice self love in my own unique way. I encourage you to do the same, becuase this pact between me and me has made the bad days better and the good days extraordinary.

This does not have to mean taking long baths and buying yourself chocolate. It can, and maybe it does. But for me, self love means more than that. It means seeing as much nature as possible. Trees are a balm for aching souls. it also means sweating as often as I can. This means climbing walls and yoga studios and treadmills. It means putting off homework to go for a run. It means seeing my friends as often and in as many different contexts as I can, whether it’s 1 am on a Saturday night or a quiet Monday morning breakfast.

I also try to love my body by nourishing it. Last night, I went to the cellar with friends, and instead of being tempted by the ice cream, I found myself drawn to the new smoothie menu, particularly (strangely) the avocado one. When my smoothie came, it was creamy and thick and green and delightful. It was a beautiful color, and I wished I could paint my room with that shade. It was just what I needed.

I love my mind, by pushing it hard. This semester, i am working harder than I ever have.I  am reading more than I have ever been asked to read, about things that are complex and deeply challenging. I am thrilled with this.

Loving myself is about finding balance, about caring for all the aspects of my being.

The first few weeks of this semester have been difficult for me, in truth. They have involved a pulled tooth, a nasty cold, and a smattering of stress. But these small moments, these remidners that I need the same care and kindness I offer the world, have brought sunshine to them.

So cheers to mountains, climbing walls, and avocado smoothies.

And thank God it’s the weekend.

Print Progress: Photo Screen Print

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This semester, my upper level printmaking class allows for a lot more freedom and experimentation, which means new techniques! The first project we worked on involved a method of screen printing called photo screen printing. I designed an image digitally and then printed it onto a transparency, coated my screen in an icky substance called photo emulsion, and then exposed the image to my screen with a machine that uses concentrated light. It was basically a bunch of cool chemical nonsense that I honestly still don’t completely understand, but it ended up perfectly exposing my very intricate image to my screen! This method is super useful because of it allows for lots of detail and a screen that can be printed and washed many times. I decided to do some test prints with just black ink before I worked on my edition.

My reversed image and black ink, pre first pull

My image and black ink, pre first pull

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Diner Tips

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This year I came back for my third semester of working at the diner. My co-workers are nice and it’s a fairly simple job. You smile at people and hand them their food. Most of the students here are polite. The only trouble is when you get your pleasantries mixed up. For example, if a customer says, “Have a good shift” and you say “You too.” Of course, the second after you say it you realize that they don’t have a shift and you wince a little. You meant to say something nice; you just used the wrong words.

We’re getting a lot of new people at the diner this month so I thought I’d write some tips on how to work there. Like I said, it’s relatively simple. As a student worker, all you really have to do is have a positive attitude and show up passably awake. That being said, here are my tips.

  • Be yourself. I heard this at the customer service training session we did and it seems worth repeating. Customers don’t want to be served by a robot or someone who sounds like the lady on their GPS. For one thing that lady is really bossy. This may happen in the next fifty years as technology progresses, but in the meantime feel free to relax and joke around a little.
  • Don’t cut towards your fingers. If you do, you may find yourself with one less.
  • Eat before your shift. Or else you could end up trying to cram a cold tortilla into your mouth during the one o’clock rush. Trust me, it’s not good.
  • Bring comfortable shoes. This job is all standing.
  • If you’re spraying the warming pan on top of the stove and the stove is on, a jet of fire may shoot up. This looks really cool but make sure to get your hand out of the way if you don’t want it charbroiled.

I hope these were helpful and I look forward to seeing you at the diner, either as a co-worker or as a customer. If you say “have a good shift,” I’ll be the one who says “you too.”

Solitude

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I was in Seattle a few weeks ago, where I met up with a friend from the university. He picked me up from my downtown hotel and we drove to Beth’s Cafe, a breakfast restaurant known for its 12-egg omelets and the crayon drawings that line its walls. The drawings showcase a range of artistic styles, from remarkable reproductions of Elsa (of Frozen fame) to Dalí-esque surrealisms. My favorite drawing was of two stick bugs, wading through a puddle of rainwater that had accumulated in a crack in the sidewalk. The bugs were indistinct brown sticks, each with six legs. The drawing struck me because it appeared to be the work of six year old who used too much purple crayon. Yet it evoked solitude with an intensity unmatched by any other drawing that I saw. It may have been the color, or a combination of color and visual understatement, but the figures of the two stick bugs seemed to represent a shared lonesomeness.

We finished our meals and drove to nearby Green Lake. There was a boat rental hut, where we rented a blue two-person pedal-boat. We hopped into the water and got into the boat that was waiting for us. I tightened my life-vest, and we began to pedal. There was more resistance than I expected, and I felt my thighs tighten as we pedaled out onto the water, leaving a V-shaped trail of ripples behind us. We talked about our summers. I spent a lot of my summer alone in a library. It’s not a bad thing. Alone, but not lonely. I realized that college, for all the social attention, often is a solitary activity. I study with friends less often than I did in high school. I eat lunch, and sometimes dinner, alone, which, I should stress, is not a bad thing. I think college calls for a healthy amount of solitude. Of course, it also calls for interaction, but I think that solitude is underrated.

In the middle of Green Lake, my friend and I drifted, our feet drying upon the pedals of our $18/hour rented pedal-boat. We weren’t especially thin, having eaten more than our fair share of eggs, hash browns, and bacon, but in every other way we were like the purple stick bugs of a six year old, alone on a boat in the middle of a lake. I could have sighed and my breath would have vibrated the water.

That Lizzie Life: A Summer in Roma!

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Hello first semester of senior year! It’s good to be back. This summer was particularly eventful; I spent the first half of it living that Lizzie McGuire life abroad in Italy! Last semester, I was lucky enough to have made it into a brand new connections class called Rome: Sketchbooks and Space. This class was based in the study and appreciation of ancient Roman art and architecture, focusing heavily on sacred spaces and the utilization of space as a whole. Throughout the semester each student also worked on a sketchbook with weekly entries. As an art major, I thoroughly enjoyed this aspect of the class, though it wasn’t all art majors in the class. The classroom part of the course was very interesting… but the best part was going to Italy for the first three weeks of summer.

You heard me, Italy! Our entire class lived in Rome– along with our fabulous professor and official guardian angel, Elise Richman– and worked in the Rome Center studio spaced owned by the University of Washington. The Rome Center was right in the middle of the beautiful Campo di Fiori, a bustling marketplace during the day and vibrant city life scene at night. I used to sit in this one particular windowsill and look out onto the square… and people used to take pictures of me in my little spot! I guess it is pretty rare to see a redhead in Rome. Here’s the view I had from that windowsill one night as the sun was setting. Stunning. 11390041_10153300221982778_8003798161520122779_n

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To Unknowable Heights

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On the last day of finals week last semester, a friend and I, to celebrate the end of the school year, drove to North Bend and hiked Rattlesnake Ridge. We got there early, before the morning fog had lifted, and so, for the most part, we hiked in a cloud. Though the sun was out by the time we’d reached the ridge’s 3,500-foot peak, the fog covered the surrounding areas so that, where we should have seen the forest and Rattlesnake Lake below, we saw only gray. There were others at the peak, taking pictures, sitting on lawn chairs, and watching the rodents scramble across the rocks. My friend and I found a ledge near the edge of the peak and sat, as wisps of fog passed around us. I pulled out a couple of granola bars and we ate.

I wish the fog would go away, my friend says. The view is incredible. And it puts how high we are in perspective.

A part of me wishes that I could see the view, too. But the sensation of being a kilometer above ground doesn’t abandon me. I gaze into the impenetrable fog from my perch.

I don’t know, I say. The not being able to see is kind of cool. In a sense, it makes me feel that we’re even higher. Too high to see the ground.

My friend unlatches his camera bag. He points to a chipmunk, nibbling a nut on a pedestal-like rock. For an instant, the chipmunk looks at us, long enough for my friend to take a picture, then it darts over the ledge and slips into the fog.

I stand and peer over the ledge. There’s no trace of the chipmunk. Then I notice a man, walking on a thin outcropping of rock on the side of the cliff.

Check this out, I say.

My friend stands and looks in the direction of the man.

That guy’s insane, I say.

He must not be afraid of heights.

The man lowers himself and sits with his back against the mountain-face. He hugs his knees to his chest and leans forward. As he cranes his neck to see the trees below, a thick cloud of fog envelops and shrouds him from view.

We watch. The fog thickens around the mountainside. Then we hear a scream, muted by the cloud, as if from a distance, and it echoes down the mountain, into the valley, and ripples over the lake. I think the worst. I think, This man has fallen to his death.

The people turn. They inch their way to the edge of the peak, as if afraid to see what awaits their eyes below.

The cloud of fog passes. The man still sits on the narrow strip of rock on the side of the mountain. The people let out sighs of relief. He shivers. There’s sweat, or dew, on his forehead, but he’s there. I sit back down and lean against the rock. I realize that what I thought was a scream was a shout, or a cheer, his thrill at sitting blindly in a cloud, at knowing but not seeing, and seeing what we don’t know.

We watch the fog pass beneath us like a slowly moving stream and imagine that we’re on an island, floating in the sky.

The Independent Life

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Last November I made the decision to life off-campus. I thought THIS is what college is about! That THIS is independence that so many people at UPS do this, why not me? Luckily I already had five other friends I knew I would want to live with. That my friend, Nihal already has the experience to house-search, setting up bills and everything. Our house search was basically set up by her, since she spent that year living off campus she knew what to look for and what we should consider. There were many factors including- having six rooms, near to campus (or well reasonable since four of them had cars), cost and size of the house. We started our search through the trusted off-campus house search directory through our University. All the property owners/managers are trusted by the University and know they are offering housing to college students and have a good response from previous students experiences.