4:30 AM

There was a time when those numbers used to scare me.

Now I’ve grown accustomed to seeing that time blinking on the alarm clock as I bottle-feed the baby in the morning. So last week, when I decided to go surfing at 4:30 AM (leaving my wife with our infant until noon), I actually looked forward that ungodly hour. As a matter of fact, I woke up at 3:30 in anticipation of perfect waves peeling in the half-light of dawn.

The forecast promised epic conditions: 7 feet at 14 seconds with mild offshores. My surf buddy arrived right on time in his veggie-oil rig and we departed at quarter-to-five, leaving the smell of fried wontons in our wake. On the ride along empty freeways, over the oily river, past the drowsy city, and through the dark woods, we joked about our daily lives—the ups and downs of fatherhood (me), dating (him), and of course the surf we’d be enjoying soon.

The ocean obviously hadn’t read the report. We were the first ones in the water, but the waves were bumpy and crossed up. We surfed for a few hours, milking as much fun from the session as possible, but in the end only caught a handful of waves each.

A quick change and hike back to the car and we were on the road again, talking about the waves we got, the week ahead, and our next corn-oil-powered dawn patrol.

My wife asked me if it was worth it as I stumbled through the front door at noon with my surfboard under one arm and a dripping wetsuit over my shoulder. I smiled and she rolled her eyes. Would I do 4:30 again? Maybe 5:30, considering the time change.

Young Blood

Photo: Steve Rogers, Bread and Butter Adventure Media

A few months back my friend Todd, of The Range Life, sent out an email linking to a slideshow of the previous weekend’s adventure. Usually his shots capture his standard weekend exploits: kayaking and skiing around Washington and British Columbia. These shots were a little different in nature, and had me wondering if Todd had just joined the setup crew for Cirque du Soleil. The first couple of shots focused on a bunch of guys in the woods climbing high into trees, setting all sorts of lines, yanking on z-drags, and smiling really big. The effort looked to be led by climbing extraordinaire Matt Maddaloni, who I’ve personally known as the climbing mastermind behind the zip-line setup used to shoot the whitewater footage in Bryan Smith’s Collective Video, 49 Megawatts, and who has been involved with the construction of most of the zip-line canopy tours around Whistler. With him behind the wheel, this project was bound to be cool.

The remainder of Todd’s shots focused on Matt attempting to free solo a 5.13 named “Young Blood” on a monster boulder adjacent to the site they’d been working on. It seemed like he was making the first few moves just fine, and then kept having issues with the crux of the problem … and falling off. Shots of Matt climbing. Shots of Matt falling in midair. Shots of the ground thirty or forty feet below the boulder. And a few pictures of the mind-blowing creative rope-work that tied the whole event together.

Bryan Smith captured that day on film, and put together a short film, “Young Blood,” that we recently posted to The Collective. Although I’d seen the photos and some small clips of the event, this video really brought home the magic that can happen when a few creative and educated minds go out to expand the boundaries of play. I will be forever impressed and inspired by folks like Matt who have mastered their craft and keep pushing the boundaries of their physical and mental abilities, use available technology in new, daring ways, focus on a minimal footprint, and do it all within a realm of safety. Keep after it!

Check out the video.

Painting the Big Apple Green

Next week I’m going to leave Portland’s bike lanes behind and fly to New York City for Nau’s warehouse sale. First and foremost, I plan on eating a lot of delicious food. Second, I plan on taking notes about how New York City takes advantage of the dense population to be more sustainable and socially conscious than other cities.

Having never been to NYC, I can guess the obvious reasons New Yorkers have a smaller carbon footprint — extensive public transportation, small living spaces, and the ability to get anything your heart desires by walking three blocks or less. What about the less obvious examples that make it a socially conscious city?

Openhouse, the venue where Nau is holding the warehouse sale, is one example of a hip NYC retail space doing business unusual. Like-minded companies rent this beautiful space for a variety of artistic, creative and socially responsible events: GOOD Magazine made it their Community Center for the month of December, Joni Mitchell’s Art Expedition was launched here, and it hosted a Frank Tell Fashion showcase. Why Openhouse? In addition to its great location and clean design, 5% of the lease cost for this space goes to the non-profit organization of the renter’s choice. In the case of our sale, it is a win-win-win for Openhouse, Nau, and Kiva, who will receive 5% of our lease in addition to 5% of our net sales from our four day event.

Now that I’ve found one socially conscious business, does anyone have any suggestions for a good place to eat in SoHo?

Nau Warehouse Sale NYC
Where: Openhouse Gallery, 201 Mulberry St.
When: March 6 - March 9
Thursday 11am - 7pm
Friday + Saturday noon - 8pm
Sunday noon - 6pm

RIP, WFB (1925-2008)

On a May morning in 1989, my world collided briefly with William F. Buckley Jr. The influential conservative was the commencement speaker at my small catholic university. Having just completed my junior year, I was tasked driving him to and from the ceremony. Buckley, emerging from a sleek jet, hopped in the back seat uttering a brief hello. Twenty-five miles later and minutes from campus, Buckley, rifling through a well-worn Louis Vuitton duffel, realized he’d left his commencement gown and colors on the plane. Leaving him to explain to my boss, I raced back to the airport, retrieved the gown from plane and with minutes to spare bounded into the church. Graduation in those days was managed by a Benedictine monk, Brother Stephen. He grabbed the black gown from my hands and began ironing it. I will never forget seeing Buckley race up to him and say in his achingly apparent accent and now famed sharp tongue, “Hold on a minute…It’s meant to be worn wrinkled.”

Dream Bus

Saw this bus on a walk yesterday.
Had to run over and look in the window.
Of course, it had the perfect sticker on it…

Why doesn’t a car manufacturer make a cool bus again? An AWD, hydrogen-powered six-seater with a fold-down bed in back (or above). Sink, toilet, and card table would all come standard.

This Westy concept car by Verdier is what I’m talking about… Hello, VW?

Pulling Back

Last week I made my first pilgrimage back to the surf since my son was born. Conditions were forecast to be large—maybe too large—but having gotten a green light from the family, I piled in a van with my surf buddies and hoped for the best. When we got to the break, the ocean looked seasick. Massive walls of whitewater tumbled in from the horizon and the inside was a mess. Yet, being optimistic and surf-starved, my friends and I scoured the water for workable shoulders. There were a few, but getting to those waves would require taking a pounding and submitting oneself to unpredictable storm currents.

A brave surfer nimbly negotiated the rocky entry into the churning sea in front of us. He had a long pintail gun under one arm and was wearing a helmet. As soon as he paddled past the inside shorebreak, he vanished from sight into the fog and froth. Then, one of my friends asked the million-dollar question: Do we go for it?

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the salty sea air. I imagined the feeling of cold water flushing through my wetsuit. I thought of the slippery boulders, the ice-cream headaches, the huge breakers holding me down as I tried to find the outside; the burning of my shoulders, arms and lungs from a lack of conditioning.

I thought of my new baby at home, waiting for me to come back and play with him.

“Let’s grab a beer and watch the waves,” I suggested. And that’s what we did. We talked trash, told stupid jokes, and planned our next session. It was a blast, and just what I needed, but the experience made me wonder: Would I have charged it if I didn’t have this newfound responsibility?

Thoughts for ‘08

OK, we’re a few days late to it, but here’s a selection of well-intended resolutions from the Nau gang. Hopefully they’ll inspire, or at least inspire a chuckle.

What’s on your plan for the New Year?

Eat Tastier Food, Dude
I’m of the school of thought that New Year’s resolutions shouldn’t be painful. As a matter of fact, they should be as decadent as possible, to counteract the post-holiday blues, crappy winter surf and the end of fantasy football season. This year my goal is to eat more delicious meals, meaning I’ll have to shop regularly at the farmer’s market and frequent local restaurants that abide by the slow food ethos like Portland’s Nostrana. Everybody knows that organically grown food tastes tons better and supporting our area’s mom ‘n pop farms and eateries is good for the environment and the health of our community. Next year’s resolution? Drink lovelier wines. –Rick

More Work, Less Office.
I have resolved to put in less time at the office, so as to cut down on the amount of fossil fuel I consume on my daily commute from the houseboat. I will endeavor to drop down to three days in the office, and two days telecommuting from home. If that doesn’t work, I’m just going to shack up with our office manager and walk into work from her house. –Hal

Car Smart
My resolution starts with a dilemma: I have a ten-year-old truck, and I want to keep it rolling. But, 2008 will likely be the year for a trade-in, so I’m looking to move to a biodiesel or a hybrid vehicle. –Ian

Home Is Where the Napkins Are
My resolution is to permanently turn my paper towel holder into an abode for the cloth napkins Santa brought me. –Josie

Deep Thoughts
My resolution for 2008: At the juncture where heart and mind collide, I will choose to follow the heart. –Mark

More or Less?
And mine? I resolve to make 2008 the year of more and less. I will write more of my own work. I will cook more of my own food (good start on that one so far). I will visit my family more. I will ski more (and hopefully better). I will ride my bike more…which means I will drive to work less. I will spend less money, and more carefully. I will spend less time on things that leave me unsatisfied. I will do more, with less, whenever possible. That’s a lot of line items, but after a year filled with richness and exhaustion of the best kind (marriage, buying our first home, meaningful work) I am seeking to reinvest in my own routines and rituals in a way that can hopefully transcend the calendar year.

And yours? What ever they are, the Nau collective wishes you success in realizing them.

Also, if you need some more inspiration for a greener 2008, check this post out.

A Real Humm-dinger…

Rain, flooding, hurricanes, Armageddon… What can we do?! During a football game over the holidays I saw a commercial that looked like a public service announcement about the disastrous effects of global warming, but about halfway through I realized that it was a Hummer spot. Called “Hummer Helps,” this is GM’s campaign to reposition their 6000 lb gas-guzzler as a benevolent life-saving machine and not a symbol of American disregard for the environment. It’s common knowledge that the majority of people driving Hummers don’t use them in the same way the Red Cross does, but GM hopes that by providing a website where actual Hummer drivers can send pics of themselves towing 2WD cars out of mud puddles, everyone’s karmas will be cleansed.

I think a commenter on the Thinking in Vain blog said it best: “Firetrucks help [too]… Guess I should go out and buy one.”

More commentary on the Hummer Helps campaign:

Hummer Helps: Ad PR Industry News Blog
Egg USA: Hummer Stuck in the Mud
A video response to the Hummer Helps Ad.

I’m Dreaming of a Green Christmas, Part 2

Last week a friend sent me an e-mail containing “The Story of Stuff” video, a wonderful look at how consumerism shapes our worldview and the topic of Ian’s post below. After getting a major in environmental studies, I love to pretend that I’m enlightened in relation to consumerism, my eco-footprint, sustainability, and the like. While watching the video I realized that I, like most humans, need constant reminders to remember my environmental ethics. It’s the holiday season, and naturally I went out and bought stuff. Granted, I mostly bought eco-friendly gifts. I attempted to support local artists. I even tried to find things that would be useful for a long time after the holidays were over. (I’m sure my family will be sad not to receive reindeer sweaters from me this year. Who doesn’t love those?) But innately, even if I wrap things in the same cloth bags I use every year, consumption was at the center of my holiday traditions once again.

What is it about this season that can force a fanatical environmentalist like myself to buy my brother a belt buckle with a piece of a beer can embedded in it? Read on »

The Pen is Mightier…

In this digital age, when email has replaced letter writing, megapixels have become film, and Wacom tablets are more convenient than canvasses and paintbrushes, it’s refreshing to get back to the simple, sensual act of laying down an expressive line in jet-black ink.

I was just given this hand-crafted Tim’s Pen from Portland’s Timothy Leigh Company a few days ago and love everything about it. The pen’s shaft is made from found and repurposed Birdseye Maple, long-aged and finished with oil and fine wax; the nib holder is brass pipe; the nib itself is hammered and foiled from a recycled metal can. Even the caps on the box are beautiful, carved from incense cedar.

The tool itself is handsome enough to be called art, but to hold it in your hand, dip it in ink, and actually use it—that is really special. The variation of the line that can be achieved by simply changing angles and pressure can shift from fat and powerful to delicate and fragile in one stroke.

Attempting to channel Picasso’s Don Quixote, I immediately scratched out a drawing of a surfer, thrilled at how rich the 15-minute process was: the scratch of the nib on paper, the volatile pools of dripping ebony.

Handmade, sustainable, one-of-a-kind, and designed to last a lifetime, this is perhaps the gift I’ll covet most and longest after the holiday season.

Tim Pen’s start at $35, depending on the wood used. The only way to get one is to contact Tim directly: tim at leighcompany dot com. (If you do, ask him how he started this inspiring endeavor.)