Forgive Us Our Press Passes

Crossing the line

2010-02-28T12:50:00.000-08:00

We ended our Olympic coverage minutes ago and are packing to head back to Whistler, then points beyond--but not without taking the time to photograph Team AP at the cross-country finish line! Thanks to our Reuters pals for shooting the photo.

And fun to see, on standing at the line, that someone (likely a Canadian skier) had embedded a "Loonie," at the line, too. Not something you'd see unless you were standing right atop of it.

More later friends!!

16 Down, 1 To Go

2010-02-27T17:36:00.000-08:00

Sixteen days down, one to go.

Except for a steady & cool rain and the inherent problems with keeping our cameras dry, today was a terrific way to end the women's portion of the cross-country skiing competition at Whistler Olympic Park. Poland's Justyna Kowalczyk edged Marit Bjoergen, of Norway, at the finish to win the gold in the 30-kilometer classical race. And if you've ever wondered what 1/1000th of a second looks like, look at the photo above. In an even closer finish than Kowalczyk's win, the first American to cross the line, Kikkan Randall (#33) edged Sylwia Jaskowiec to finish in 24th place.

We finish our Olympic work tomorrow with the men's 50-kilometer classical race, one of only two competitions Sunday and the final event in the Whistler area (fans of that other obscure winter sport, "ice hockey," may already be aware of the little game scheduled between the U.S. and Canada down in Vancouver).

We'll shoot our event and then hopefully gather sometime after our work is done and take a turn standing on the winner's platform and in view of the Olympic rings to take our group photo and begin to say our goodbyes. Packing is being done, plans made for travel, people already beginning to disperse. Of course as quickly as these Games began, they'll end--but not without each of us taking with us a bit of that Olympic spirit with us. And maybe some Olympic flags or signage or something not otherwise nailed down . . .

It's been fun and it's been Games, but it's also not been without keeping so closely in mind that we've been at just one little part of our very big world. The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat are seen through the lens of an Olympics where a competitor died, another lost her mother days before the skate of her life and many, many others--athletes, fans, colleagues--come with stories of challenge few of us can comprehend. Even our AP group dinner was interrupted last evening by Twitter accounts of a devastating earthquake in Chile and before we'd left the restaurant one of our own was making sudden plans to leave the Olympics today and fly immediately to that area to report on the damage.

So, one more day. Thank you for joining me so far on my Olympic journey and I'll try to wrap things up soon!

Whistler plaza

2010-02-27T08:52:00.000-08:00

A few views from the Whistler Medals Plaza and nearby area yesterday afternoon and evening.

Near the Olympic rings, I came across several young people demonstrating a traditional Inuit game of "Aratsiaq," where participants attempt to kick a suspended piece of bone or fur with either one of both feet from a standing start. Believe me, it's considerably harder than it looks, but the kids did make it look easy. You begin from a standing start and the target must be clearly struck by one (or both feet, depending on which type of attempt is made) and you have to land--and maintain your balance on--the same foot you kicked it with.

Despite my reluctance, they nudged me into giving it a try and placed the target less than a foot off the ground, more than three feet lower than they were demonstrating. I managed a two-footed takeoff, hit my target, landed on both feet but couldn't stick the landing and became a victim of gravity. Thanks to the young Aratsiaq participant who anticipated my amateurish attempt and caught me on my fall!

A few other scenes here, too, including my coverage of the medals ceremony at the plaza last night (where the gold medal-winning Norway biathlon team decided to interrupt a photo op for the silver medal-winning Russians and piled-on), Mounties standing guard in the rain near the Olympic flame there, an American fan having his photo taken inside the rings and the nearby and the beautiful and growing memorial to luger Nodar Kumaritashvili.

Wake me when the Games are over

2010-02-26T15:48:00.000-08:00

The tiredness, feelings of "Groundhog Day" and even exhaustion set in here about four or five days ago, when we'd all already been here a full two weeks and 10 days of so of competition had already passed and the weather made the change again from some brilliant "blue bird" days back to clouds, rain, slushy snow and colder temperatures.

As so much has happened already and much time has passed, you start to think that we're just about done, begin to plan packing and travel and make those miss-you-see-you-soon calls home, before realizing that it's a full week left to go. More dressing for cold & rain, hauling gear, clambering onto crowded buses, tromping uphill through slush to the venue, working to keep cameras dry and hands warm and pictures interesting, choosing between chili or sandwich or hot dog for lunch, re-packing for the reverse trip, another dinner out and planning to do it all again the next. The glamour of covering the Olympic Games can begin to feel a bit duller.

But, Groundhog Day or poor weather or sameness aside, there's always something that brings the adrenaline right back to the front and reminds you of what a special place and time you're at. Yesterday it was a thrilling finish to the Nordic combined large hill competition (a ski jump in the morning and a 10-kilometer ski in the afternoon) that unexpectedly put a pair of Americans atop the winners stand when Billy Demong took gold and Johnny Spillane got silver. Demong's gold was the first-ever for a Nordic event for the U.S. and fans cheered so loudly that my Russian colleague half-expected our American president to show up and join in the celebration.

New view

2010-02-24T22:15:00.000-08:00

Our photo venue managers were finally able to finagle a new shooting spot for us at cross-country skiing so, rather than stand where you see a few of the many dozen photographers on the finish line platform standing, I had a chance to shoot from a new position. The idea was for us to be able to see the teammates of the finisher as they ran toward him after crossing the line at the relay event, but it struck me after seeing the photos that I also got a very good look at what the athletes see as they finish.

I hadn't really thought about it before, I guess I like to pretend that we photographers are pretty much invisible and no one's really paying any attention to us being there. Ha, as IF! Now I know--THOSE POOR GUYS!! They work so hard for so long for their Olympic moment, and the first thing they see at the greatest moment of their young lives is not a chorus of school children or a marching band or flowers or beloved family, but us--a bunch of middle-aged, poorly dressed, unkempt, uncouth and often slightly soggy photographers with giant lenses staring right back at them. We are not nearly as cute as I thought we were. I'm starting to feel really bad about that now and will be sure to at least wear a nice outfit next time out and brush my hair. Well, not really but the sentiment is there.

However, they do tend to be good sports with us and, very often with the very vocal encouragement of my European counterparts (and not at all how we normally work in North America), will turn toward the platform and give the shooters a good show.

More Olympix

2010-02-23T19:03:00.000-08:00

Long days and not finding quite enough time to make the good edit that I'd like, so a bit of Olympix randomness coming your way tonight. You don't see too many falls on the cross-country ski course, not that they don't happen, but the course is spread over several kilometers (which I think is French for part-of-a-mile) so it's a treat when they do happen to take a spill somewhere in view. Well, treat for photographers anyway. You're not supposed to do what this skier did yesterday, which, my editor Ferdi Ostrop tells me, is wear a tee-shirt while skiing in an Olympic competition. I'm led to believe by Ferdi that the the spill was karma for the skier's sartorial misdeeds. I don't know, I thought the guy looked terrific and I wish more of them would show a bit of skin on those nearly 50-degree days (that's fahrenheit temp, not the other gauge they keep trying to press on us Yanks up here).

So, what they do at the end of a competition is have a "flower" ceremony, a bit of a bridesmaid event which some Olympics-ago replaced the traditional medal ceremony that happened immediately post-event and at the same venue. The athletes get a two-fer I suppose--a podium stand, a fistful of flowers (which they often immediately toss right back to the fans), a wave, then the REAL medal ceremony later that night at a plaza in either Whistler or Vancouver, where new fans, who have paid yet more money for the privilege, watch them then receive the medals. More music, waves and, bonus!, a national anthem. Meantime, for the earlier flower hubbub, photographers are moved about by our awesome venue photo manager, Porter Binks, who plays exceptionally well the role of a border collie. A friendly bark and a good stare and we all hop-to into position, while he also manages to nudge the athletes into their place. It's really quite a lovely ballet we all perform.

Turns out, we've got many different ways of getting to the various snow venues up at Whistler--walking, car, shuttle, even aboard a snowcat on occasion. But my pal Elise Amendola, photographer out of Boston, has one of the best morning commutes--a short walk from the hotel to a gondola and she's lifted one stop up and into the mountains to the sliding venue, home of luge, bobsled and skeleton. However, unlike most of us who ride shuttles and routes, hers is open to the public as well as media. I rode with her the other day when a grumpy Canadian (and that alone is saying something), not happy that the time of the bobsled event he had tickets for was changed and wound up overlapping with the USA-Canada hockey game, joined us in the cable car on his way to the venue.

Some mornings, things don't go quite as smooth as planned as Ferdi found out the other day. He was pulled out of line for a "random" check, and found security asking him to remove one layer after another on the sub-freezing morning. Raincoat, jacket, sweater and finally stopping at unwinding his scarf and waving him top-to-bottom with an electronic metal detecting wand and he was good to go, though a bit chilly.

A brief visit with some APeeps at the sliding venue as photographer Ricardo Mazalan, center, teases sportswriter Tom Withers (my softball-venue partner in Beijing and Athens), left, and photo editor Stephanie Mullen as they work in their corner space at the press center there.

And, the Smurfs take over a Vancouver Olympic "inukshuk" icon (the emblem of these Winter Games and a contemporary interpretation of a stone landmark that's been in Inuit culture for over 3,000 years) at our venue one evening as they ended their shift. Don't be fooled, they're not real Smurfs of course, but are affectionately called that because of they insist on dressing just like them, right down to their head-to-toe light blue. More on them later, but we couldn't make it without them--these folks, hard-working volunteers and staff alike, run the games and, considerably more often than not, make our Olympic lives much easier.

Royal treatment

2010-02-22T21:41:00.000-08:00

So, what do you do when, in the rush of things and problems of communicating among the many different languages at the Olympics, you need to get an identification? Rather than grabbing and pulling aside that old couple hugging the silver medal winners of the women's cross country team sprint freestyle, it's much easier to just photograph their Olympic credentials--the same sort that any of us wear at the Games--and know that I'll have their names right with my photos.

Surprise! It's His Majesty THE KING OF SWEDEN and Her Majesty THE QUEEN OF SWEDEN. How about that?!

Problem is . . . I still don't know their names--they're not actually on the official Olympic credentials!! Thankfully, we still have Google. And I'm wondering if, at the next Olympics I cover, I can add AP WARRIOR PRINCESS to my tag.

Olympix

2010-02-22T20:59:00.001-08:00

A little Olympix silliness this evening, as I was photographed by my colleague, Dmitry Lovetsky, while I was photographing myself in front of a photograph that I had taken a week earlier of Switzerland's Simon Ammann making his gold-medal winning normal hill ski jump.

Canon, an Olympic sponsor and the manufacturer of most of the cameras and lenses that AP uses, provides offices in both the Vancouver and Whistler Olympic press centers where professional photographers can have equipment repaired or loaned to them during the Games. To add some interest to the otherwise bare walls in the temporary space, Canon makes poster-sized prints of photos that catch their eye early on in the Games and about a dozen are on display in the Whistler space.

Inexplicably, among the many thousands of images available to them, one of mine was chosen. While it's a nice image and I'm glad to have taken it, I'm a bit abashed because it's a pretty simple one to make, even for one as inexperienced in ski jump photography as me. You just stand at the bottom of the hill with a 500mm, f/4 lens (which is about two-feet long and weighs nearly 10 pounds) attached to a nice little brand-new Mark IV camera, rest it all on a monopod, follow the jumper through the air, hit the focus button and lay on the shutter. If you're lucky, as I was on this photo, you'll get a top flight jumper nicely lined-up inside the rings. Even luckier if he's the one winning gold. Even better when you have an editor who finds that photo among the (too) many you send him and he snags it right away, crops and tones it and sends it out onto the wire.

This, by the way, is that view from the bottom of the slope of my camera angle (look for me on TV!). You'll notice a small black box added to the left side of the camera, with a cord attached. We're able to automatically send our photos back to our photo editor in the nearby press work room through that Internet connection.

Biathlonglens

2010-02-20T20:10:00.000-08:00

A couple of days of back-to-back ski jump to cross country ski transitions (large hill ski jumping qualification to women's 15-kilometer pursuit cross-country, followed the next day by large hill individual final round ski jumping which overlapped by some 30-minutes with men's 30-kilometer pursuit X-C) and the inherent race to get from the ski hill to the cross-country venue has me thinking that photographers should have our own medal competitions in a new Olympic sport--something along the lines of a biathlon that involves heavy telephoto lenses rather than rifles.

By the end of today, racing from ski jump stairs to finish line to flower ceremony to running to the upper-reaches of the cross-country venue, uphill through snow and carrying 30-some pounds of camera equipment, and I feel totally in the competition for a medal in that new-found sport.

Above, a few snaps of these past couple of days that have kept me hopping.

Luge track

2010-02-19T19:39:00.000-08:00

Had a day off the other day and visited the sliding center for the women's luge finals. It was an exciting afternoon and a great race (from what I can tell of the refrigerated tube sport on one of the fastest tracks in the world), at the venue that hosts luge, bobsled and skelton.

But you can't visit the track, of course, without thinking about the death--one week ago today--of Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili. Spectators to the track may notice a new, white-painted wooden wall at turn 16, the final turn on the course, where Kumaritashvili careened off of his luge and into a steel post. Several posts beyond the wall are now covered with padding. The back side of the wall, off limits to the public, is still bare wood and partially blocks the view of the post that he hit. At the bottom of the post, where access is limited, is a small memorial of flowers, stuffed Olympic mascot toys, a note or two and burning candles. Within a dozen or so yards on either side--as throughout the course--are stationed emergency medical personnel.

Except perhaps for the children attending the races--playing, laughing, romping in the snow and ringing cowbells at every opportunity--it's hardly a stretch to imagine that every person who comes to this Olympic venue is well aware of that awful death last week, one that has changed how these Games will be seen from here out. It's a sobering thought, but on my brief visit I was glad to see that it did not overwhelm the venue. Spectators still cheered, waved flags, blew horns and urged their favorite lugers on; athletes raced the course beneath the Olympic rings and cheered their personal victories and their competitors efforts and tossed flowers to the fans; photographers worked to capture the striking moments of Olympic victory and defeat and joy and loss. Maybe it's also not a stretch that many have felt the appropriateness in continuing to see athletes racing here and to continue their quest to be swifter, higher and stronger. Maybe it's not a bad way to honor both Kumaritashvili and the Olympic spirit.

Today my office is a ski jump ramp

2010-02-18T21:46:00.000-08:00

Ski jump practice from the big hill today, you get to see what I saw from my workplace today (top) and what the ski jumper would have seen had he looked down (which he did not, because that would have been very bad)--me on the left and yet another European photographer on the right (and more on those guys later, whoo boy).

The jumper is a "forerunner" taking one of the first leaps to test the course before the real jumpers, the competitors, take their leaps. Sort of like the folks who tasted the royal family food beforehand--if they don't die, it's all good.

I mostly shot the big "V" from below, where you see the skier's face between their skis from a low angle, and later from the side as well, but wanted to see what the view looks like from under the take-off ramp. It's exactly what you might imagine, one big rush when they suddenly appear flying past over your head. Pretty much all I can say is "WOWSA!"

Photo finish

2010-02-18T15:33:00.000-08:00

Could this race have been ANY closer?

You'll see in my photo above the boot of Russia's Nikita Kruikov, left, crossing just ahead (the position of the boot at the finish line determines the winner) of fellow countryman Alexander Panzhinskiy in the men's individual classic sprint cross-country ski race on Thursday, before the two crashed into each other a heartbeat later. Still makes me gasp to look at how close it was, one of the closest competitions in these Olympics. Norway's Marit Bjoergen, below, winner of the women's version of the race, won by a mile in comparison.

The classic sprint race is an exciting one, as the day begins with about eight races of six competitors each in races lasting about 3-1/2 minutes on the curve up and through the woods just in front of the grandstands. The men follow the women, then the quarterfinal races are run, again the women race and are immediately followed by the men, each race closer to the finish. Up suddenly is then the finals and the race for the gold. On a moment like the one yesterday, I'm sometimes not certain who the winner is, so I just keep shooting, concentrating on whoever seems to be reacting the most. They'll fool you sometimes though, a second or third or further finisher is sometimes just happy to be there. Can't say I blame 'em.

You'll also see shadows, something we've barely seen in now nearly a week of competition. Hooray, the sun came out yesterday and today and it looks like tomorrow, too!! Made for a supremely classic day in the mountains--the views were spectacular, temperatures here in the mountains easily reached into at least the mid-40's and all of us who forgot our sunscreen are somewhat, but happily, a bit sunburned today. Makes up a bit for some of our otherwise less enjoyable recent weather days.

U.S.Eh?

2010-02-15T20:58:00.000-08:00

I seemed for awhile that I was getting my new-found Canada on.

I mean, I love the Canadians--what's not to love? Love the teeny little accent (eh? aboot), love their sweet disposition, love the understated humor, the red plaid shirts, the Loonies and Toonies and maple leafs and maple syrup.

I love that it's easy to spell. They have k.d. lang and Farley Mowat and Joni Mitchell and Alex Trebeck and Peter Jennings and Tim Hortons. Canada geese and Canadian bacon and Canada Dry Ginger Ale. I like that they can make an Olympic sport out of a bar game (see "curling"). And that national anthem! "With glowing hearts we see thee rise, the True North strong and free!"

O Canada, I will totally stand on guard for thee.

My second day here, I bought a "Canada" sweatshirt. I began to get teary-eyed on hearing their national anthem (though, honestly, that hasn't happened very often yet at these Games). I started slipping an occasional "eh" into my speech.

And then on one recent evening, away from work and enjoying being a fan for a brief time, I was in a bar with American friends, surrounded by Canadians as we all cheered the TV broadcast of Canadian Jenn Heil tearing through the moguls on her quest for Canada's first gold medal of the Olympics. It was a beautiful and inspired race. But then, up next, came American hopeful Hannah Kearney. The Canadian broadcasters seemed unenthusiastic on announcing her, the bar patrons got quiet, the camera panning the crowd showed plenty of American flags. And my heart suddenly pulled south.

Hannah raced the race of her life and my fellow Yanks and I cheered her as if we could make the difference in whether she won and or lost. And win she did, taking the wind out of Canada's sails and putting another gold medal around America's neck. Jenn the bridesmaid was left with the silver, the U.S.'s Shannon Barhrke bookended the competition with a bronze and I remembered again that a bit of red, white and blue nationalism now and again feels pretty darn good when you're on the winning side.

Thanks anyway, Canada. U.S. Eh! maybe not so much. This true blue American still loves ya, but please keep your "zed" on your side of the border. And anyway, I'm already beginning to miss baseball (the Blue Jays don't count).

p.s. And thanks to pal Elise Amendola for taking this snap of me as I visited her covering women's luge Tuesday!

Finished Line

2010-02-15T20:20:00.000-08:00

I covered the women's 10 kilometer and the men's 15 kilometer freestyle cross-country ski races today at the Whistler Olympic Park, another first for me at these Games, and was a bit surprised to see that the skiers often take the "finish" line quite literally. They put out so much physical effort during those 40-some minutes of up & down skinny ski racing that, for many, the moment they cross the red line, they are finished, done, no more skiing, and, for many: not even any more verticality.

Bodies cross the line and fall in a heap, as newly-arriving skiers (because of the staggered-start, the finish is spread out over a half-hour or more) look for space to get by to find their own drop zone. Some remain prone for just a few moments, others appear to be bent on taking a brief nap and only going upright again when ready to be awoken. It's an alarming sight at first, my initial reaction being wanting to scream "FOR GOD'S SAKE, SOMEBODY HELP THESE PEOPLE!!" Fortunately, for the athletes, fans and viewers at home, I did restrain myself from screaming or running onto the course and attempting to render my own aid and saw, in short order, that the athletes do recover enough to become upright again under their own power and it finally became apparent that all will be well and they live to ski yet another day. Good thing, many events yet to come!

Two places at once

2010-02-14T20:23:00.000-08:00

It really is possible to be at two places at once, or so the two photos of gold medal Nordic combined winner Jason Lamy Chappuis, of France, that I took earlier today would have you believe. In the top photo Chappuis is seen raising his arms in victory, just after crossing the finish line ahead of U.S.'s Johnny Spillane, right, who won silver, and Italy's Alessandro Pittin, who took the bronze. Also visible in the wide shot is the beautiful landscape, fans lining the course, clouds rolling in over the hills and the Olympic scoreboard. In the second photo, Chappuis is captured at virtually the same moment by the camera that I held in my hands, the focus all on him and considerably more isolated this time.

To get both the shots at once, I and another half-dozen or so other photographers set up cameras with wide angle lenses at snow-level and just outside the finish line, attaching "Pocket Wizards"-- untethered radio frequency-signaled remoted devices--to them. The trigger is an identical device attached to the camera we hold in our hands, and then set to go off whenever we shoot a photo. And, tada!, we look like magicians.

And of course not only are we able to shoot two (or more even) photos at once, but shooting remotely allows us to give wholly different perspectives of the same moment--wide, inclusive photos with lots of information; or tight and isolated, with perhaps more emotion and immediacy. It doesn't always work, in fact more often than not it doesn't, but it's a real treat when you get that two-fer.

Now, on to tomorrow, Day 4 of the Vancouver 2010 Games, and women's and men's freestyle cross country skiing.

First Gold

2010-02-13T14:22:00.001-08:00

Switzerland draws first gold of these 2010 Vancouver Games as Simon Ammann won the normal hill ski jump and U.S. Vice President Joe Biden added some American interest at the venue by choosing to attend and give an enthusiastic welcome to at least one volunteer in the crowd.

Our team was the one to cover those events of this day, one that started with a pleasant cloud cover and moderate near-freezing temperatures that allowed for terrific light and pleasant shooting conditions. Happily the event ended near noon, shortly before a steady cool drizzle began to drench the area, similar conditions that earlier cancelled alpine skiing events for the day. To our personal distress, the rain came even heavier as the afternoon wore on (while we filed photos from inside our media filing center) and by the time we finally headed for our bus waits then rides, it became especially annoying. The forecast for the area calls for a mix of rain, sleet and snow, but possibly clear up sometime during the week. Olympic officials remain optimistic, and possibly with good reason. While there's little expectation of any significant snowfall, it does look like we'll have some sunny skies coming up.

Apologies for the brief notes, but our team hits the road at 6 am again Sunday and the days seem to get short quickly. So, for tomorrow--Nordic combined!

With heavy hearts, let the Games begin

2010-02-13T07:57:00.000-08:00

With heavy hearts, the Games begin.

The training run death of Republic of Georgia luge athlete Nodar Kumaritashvili earlier in the day cast a pall over the Olympic opening Friday, changing a bit how so many of us see this awesome event. While I spent the morning covering the only Olympic event of the day and the first of the Games (the normal hill ski jumping), I enjoyed the evening as did many of you, watching the Olympic opening ceremony on television. However, I spent it with a friend and colleague who had been at the luge training when Kumaritashvili died and we talked of the day's events. She shot wonderful photos of him on his final two training runs and was, quite literally, one of the last people to see him alive--racing as an Olympian. We believe her photos were among those shown on television as part of the lovely tribute to him during the ceremony.

For now, back to my event--another day of ski jumping. But first, our U.S. vice president Joe Biden comes for a visit, so off I go to photograph him as well!

More soon friends and thanks, as always, for coming along for the ride.

p.s. A big shout-out to the North East Independent School District of San Antonio, Texas, where my big brother Paul Thompson works as one of their best project facilitators. He's directed the district to this blog and I'm thrilled to have readers all the way into Texas--thanks ya'll!

Glamour? Sometimes not so much.

2010-02-11T21:09:00.000-08:00

A quick catch-up as things move rapidly to Friday's opening of the Olympics down in Vancouver, BC. I'm stationed in Whistler, about a two-hour drive north and into the Coast Mountains from Vancouver, along with my three ski jumping/cross country skiing team AP photo colleagues; another several dozen other AP photographers, writers and technicians; hundreds of fellow journalists from other agencies, newspapers, magazines and broadcast organizations; and police, athletes, fans, locals, ski bums and other hangers-on.

While Vancouver hosts the opening and closing ceremonies, as well as figure skating, ice hockey, curling, short and long track speeding skating and Cyprus Mountain (a much shorter drive up from the city) will be home to freestyle skiing and snowboard (uh, provided it stops raining there . . .), Whistler will see, spread out over several locations in this area, cross county skiing, ski jumping, biathlon, nordic combined, alpine skiing and "sliding" sports (bobsled, luge and skeleton).

It's a spectacular setting for the snow events, the town is nestled at 2,200 feet at the foot of a pair of mountains--Whistler and Blackcomb--and is a classic alpine ski resort. Which means, while beautiful, a bit pricey as well. But there are plenty of restaurants to choose from and nice places to stroll. If you're a skiier or snowboarder, I'm told it's one of the best places in North America to go, with lifts taking you as high as nearly 7,500 feet. The year-old Peak-to-Peak gondola, which I have yet to ride but will make every effort to do so when I get a chance, runs between the two mountains and boasts the longest unsupported lift span of any in the world at nearly two miles--imagine!!

But back to the photographer Olympic experience. While it's such an honor to be here covering the Olympics, it's not quite always fun and "Games." From athletes to people raking & moving snow to chief cooks and bottle washers, there are thousands upon thousands of people here for the events and the tremendous volume means that getting everyone to where they need to be and in a timely manner becomes a manner of controlled chaos. Add to that a mountain setting with limited roads, infrastructure and considerably limited parking and it's a logistical challenge to the nth degree.

So, for most transit is by foot, car, shuttle and even ski lift or gondola. For my small group of four, to get to our venue at the Whistler Olympic Park some 15 miles or so away, takes us--and our weighty amount of cameras, lenses, computers and much etc.--from car to shuttle bus to walk to shuttle bus to walk to press center to walk to event and at least an hour each way. Any hitch, like missing the bus by moments or finding ourselves in a "green" bus that we could only guess was solar-powered as it crept against gravity uphill on this cloudy morning, and the minutes spent in transit quickly add up. At the end of the day, tired from slogging through wet snow and ringing out soggy gloves, we're no longer quite pinching ourselves about being at the greatest show on Earth but slumping in our seats (were we lucky enough to not have to stand), getting a bit drowsy in the steamy bus and pondering more a good (and likely expensive) meal and what time we'll begin again the next day. You'll see above photo editor Ferdi Ostrop seated near Olympic rings drawn in the fogged coach windows, and photographers Demitri Lovetsky and Matthias Schrader relaxing as well. And me, still smiling, after walking up several hundred steps to shoot ski jumping. A crazy sport and more on that later.

Meantime, tune your TV's to the opener tomorrow and more from you ski jumping headquarters soon!

Just the best

2010-02-10T15:14:00.000-08:00

The Olympics--where to begin?

For me, simply: it's just the best.

It's always been the best assignment I can have. I am truly humbled beyond words to be rubbing shoulders with the best photographers in the world, all at this one special place. I work for the best and biggest photo agency of them all. The best athletes on the planet are here, at the peak of their game. Fans, volunteers, venue workers, locals--everybody steps it up and puts on a world class show. They do their best, and beyond.

Oh sure, on many days the hours are long, the amount of equipment needed to be hand-carried nearly impossible, the weather extreme, food scarce, tempers shortened--but at the end of the day it's still what it began as, it's the Olympics. It's an event that while some days it brings us close to heat exhaustion and on others closer to frostbite, it's also a place that can profoundly touch the heart and soul. Skeptics will say that it long ago lost it's purity and simplicity, now run by commercial interests, television, money and long past it's glory years. While all that and more may well be true, it still remains that these modern Games are special and something to be embraced by us and so many around the world who go along for the ride.

The events are different than what shows up on our local sports pages for most of the year, but by the end of these Games we will come to love ski jumping, triple axels and parallel giant slalom, we will be saddened that Apolo and his little beard will be off our radar and wonder if we can't just strap on skis and a rifle and race our own little biathlons in our snow-bound neighborhoods. I think many will find magic in the Olympics and, for at least awhile, we'll miss them when they're gone.

Come along for the ride with me where I cover ski jumping and cross country skiing at the Whistler Olympic Park with my colleagues from Germany and Russia. It's already interesting--I'm the only woman on my team and the only American. I don't speak the German they seem to like, but they kindly chat with me in their best English. Earlier this afternoon, I was told that so far I was the only woman photographer at the venue. Oh Lord, going to be interesting times. I'll try to send you a bit of what it's like behind the scenes, what you won't see on television and maybe you'll be able to feel a bit of what's behind my lens.

Enjoy these Games. As my colleague Ron Judd of The Seattle Times writes, the Olympics are a gift. "Open it. Cherish it."

So, these Olympics. Friday they begin. Come join in the fun with the best of us!

O Canada!

2010-02-07T18:25:00.000-08:00

Shiny new Olympic Games credential in hand, I head True North to the glorious and free land of Canada on Monday, some days ahead of Friday's opening ceremony.

This will be Olympics number five for me (if you don't also count the numerous cross-mountain backtracking treks on Washington state's Olympic Peninsula just south of Canada) and my second winter games--though a decidedly balmy winter it is. Host city Vancouver, already owning the distinction of being the warmest city ever to host the Winter Olympics, is in the midst of its warmest winter in decades and January was the warmest on record. Vancouver, just a three-hour drive north of my home in Seattle, usually gets six inches of snow in the city proper every January, but none this year. The precipitation that did fall was rain, which knocked down much of the snow in the nearby mountains that had fallen earlier. The good news--daffodils are blooming! Likely another Winter Olympics first for a host city. Spring is in the air.

While the weather won't affect figure skating, ice hockey, speed skating, bob-a-luge and the ever-popular curling--or, another first, the indoor opening ceremony--of more concern are the skiing, snowboarding and snowman-making venues. Helicopters have been flying in bales of straw to anchor the truckloads of snow being delivered to the Cyprus area, home of the snowboard and freestyle skiing competitions. The precious commodity is then covered by giant tarps to try to slow the melting process.

My venue is still north, I'll be based in Whistler and covering cross country skiing and ski jumping at the Whistler Olympic Park. More on that after my arrival, eh.

Go Figure

2010-01-27T20:34:00.001-08:00

The last of the sequins have finally been brushed away and now a couple of days back in Seattle--and a couple of weeks before leaving for Vancouver and the 2010 Winter Games--and I can reflect for a moment on the fun of nearly two weeks of Olympic "qualifying" for figure skaters at the U.S. nationals in Spokane.

It's hard to beat a better than front-row seat to see Johnny Weir's enthusiasm or Sasha Cohen's dramatic and elegant return to competition or Belbin and Agosto's flair in the dance or Inoue and Baldwin finally being upset by a younger pair, but for personal highlights I had an unexpected first--a chance to feel for a brief moment that wonderful and chilling feeling of being the center of attention in an arena of thousands and what it's like to bring the house down in a grand round of applause and cheer.

It began innocently enough as a small group of us were escorted to mid-ice to our designated photography position to shoot the first of the medal ceremonies, this time for championship pairs. As things go at these events, the planned seven minute set-up became 20 minutes or more and the crowd was a bit restless and bored. We marched out, checked the position and realized we needed to move our carpet back a bit to give us enough room to shoot. As we did so, a small roar went up from the crowd and we quickly looked around, expecting to see skaters finally back on the ice or maybe a video highlight being played. Nope. Despite pretending that we are nearly invisible behind our cameras, turns out people really can see us.

As we stepped back onto the rug and without missing a beat, one photographer turned to the rest and quickly blurted out "OK, on three, take a bow. One, two, THREE!" And crazily and totally in unison, all of us--representing the biggies of AP, Reuters, Getty, Sports Illustrated and U.S. Figure Skating--did a tidy and spontaneous bow to the crowd. The place went crazy nuts, cheering us as if we had brought home the gold. We smiled in return, gave a few waves and the crowd roared. Weeks later and they're still talking about it in Spokane and points well beyond the Inland Empire and giant Radio Flyer red wagons.

Thanks to Dan Pelle, of the Spokane Spokesman-Review, for sharing the photo of us waiting for the women's medal ceremony (despite the audience calls, we declined further bows) and yet one more moment in the spotlight for me.

Next up, shopping for the rest of the outdoor equipment needed as I gear up for shooting cross country skiing and ski jumping at the Olympics in Vancouver next month!

Field Trips

2010-01-19T19:30:00.000-08:00

"Nobody has more fun than people" says the father of a dear friend and he means it.

So true and yet . . . I would add that nobody has even more fun than people with cameras and especially us peeps who do this for a living. Can't do this job from a desk, we get to/have to get out and about. Who else can one day be sitting next to a major league dugout dodging baseballs while watching superstars just feet away, the next fly in a helicopter over an international border (and landing atop a remote mountain in the North Cascades halfway through), and again the very next ride in a boat on the Salish Sea following First Nation paddlers in dugout canoes travel between Canada and the U.S.?

Years ago I stood with a group of fellow photojournalists on Federal Courthouse steps waiting for a stand-up news conference when the wife of one of the shooters happened upon us and finally said aloud what we all secretly knew to be true. Hands planted firmly on hips, she gave us an unexpectedly angry and envious look and very nearly spit out the words "FIELD TRIPS!"

"Huh?" we said, pretending not to understand.

"Field trips. That's all you guys ever do, is just go on field trips. Every day. And you get paid for it. Field trips."

There are many things we do in the world of photojournalism that we rightly talk about with great importance and at times even reverence--our role as journalists of bringing light to dark places, understanding to those who cannot themselves be there, the painful truth of awful happenings in the world, watchdogs of our democracy. All so very important but, truth be told, there's also that way totally fun and maybe not-so-secret personal benefit to what we do--field trips.

I loved 'em as a school kid. Field trips meant getting on the big yellow bus and going somewhere away from the classroom--to the museum, zoo, concert hall or old gypsum mine. No tests or homework, the teachers thought we'd learn something, we just thought it was fun and different. Somehow, I found a career where I could still just keep going on field trips.

A listing of some of those outings from just this past year:

sidelines at the Huskies, Seahawks and Sounders

Chinook helicopter flight with the Governor

aquarium

zoo

Seattle waterfront

baseball spring training in Tucson

Olympic National Park

inside the landmark Seattle Post-Intelligencer globe

The Seattle Times printing plant

catwalks above Hec-Ed Pavilion

floods in a blizzard in Fargo, ND

the new Microsoft cafe

Walla Walla wineries

Boeing's giant airplane production plant--the largest by square foot building in the world

a state lab testing for swine flu

courtside at UW and Storm hoops

liquor store

eastern British Columbia, Canada

Millersylvania State Park

the building of a state ferry at the Todd Pacific Shipyards

a pet shop

the robe room of the State Supreme Court

Top Pot Doughnuts production room

the kitchen of the Yes on Referendum 71 victory party

a veterinarian office in Anacortes

tarmac at Sea-Tac airport

zero-degree freezer of a food bank

thousands of snow geese in the Skagit Valley

Nobody has more fun than people, with cameras, on field trips.

Good night and good luck

2009-03-18T17:10:00.000-07:00

R.I.P-I.

I shot one of the saddest assignments of my career Monday night and, while no one was injured or died, we did lose a great newspaper and that is no small thing. For many of us working in this industry and especially for readers of their beloved Seattle Post-Intelligencer, the printing of the final broadsheet edition of this paper is very much like losing a member of the family.

The P-I had been publishing since 1863, now leaving The Seattle Times, a relative newcomer at less than 120 years old, as the lone existing daily newspaper in Seattle and now charged nearly alone with the responsibility of comforting the afflicted, afflicting the comfortable, bringing light to dark places, pushing and maintaining “sunshine” laws to keep government open and responsible, taking readers to places through words and pictures where they couldn't otherwise go, asking the difficult questions and expecting answers, providing in-depth and accurate reporting of local, national and international issues, and obituaries, sports scores, fishing season dates, color comics, horoscopes, weather forecasts, celebrity gossip, crossword puzzles, sudoku, movie times, festival dates and tidal charts.

The Times did the printing of the P-I and about a dozen photographers and video journalists walked into their plant Monday night to see the final edition roll off the presses. A scent I hadn't experienced in years, the distinctive and oddly sweet smell of a newspaper press—ink, paper, machine oil—was thick in the air as we walked in. It brought me back to the days when I worked at newspapers, and was exactly what I remembered from those years back as I'd run up the back stairwell to the newsroom or walk past the loading dock or, best, those late-night visits to the pressroom watching the massive machines turn our efforts into the final product.

The scent off the presses this past Monday was as familiar as the feel of your grandmother's old quilt that you pull closely for comfort and warmth on a cool evening. But grandmas today—busy now with Pilates classes, triathlon training and updating their Facebook pages—don't quilt so much any longer, nor do people get their news from a broadsheet of ink on paper and that is a big part of the demise of the P-I and the struggles of so many other newspapers.

The power of newspapers has traditionally be great and far-reaching, and it's often been said don't ever argue with someone who buys ink by the barrel. But newspapers never really cost a quarter or even 50 cents, the cost to produce a copy was closer to that of a triple shot grande extra foam seasonal pumpkin latte. Or maybe two. The cost of producing a newspaper—the professional journalists, support staff, office building, pens, notebooks, cameras, overhead, printing plant, rolls of paper the size of small apartments, kids on bikes and those barrels of ink—were mostly paid for by advertisers.

With pixels and much of the Internet now free, nearly unlimited and easily updated; Craig Newmark and his famous list giving readers a new and no-cost place to put classified ads; a terrible economy forcing retailers to cut expensive display ad space and perhaps younger adults less interested in taking the time to mull over a good newspaper with their morning coffee, it has become a terrible downward spiral.

Some might argue otherwise, but newspapers are not this century's version of horse buggy builders trying to stay in business despite someone else manufacturing automobiles down the street. Newspapers, while relying on ink, paper and advertisers, have first, last and always been about the journalism. The tremendous cuts in newsrooms and the loss of newspapers puts journalism--and the hugely important place it holds in our society and our democracy--at great risk. I'll save it for others to comment and figure out how to stop that loss. Right now, I'm just saying.

As for the P-I, who could have imagined that when the U.S. went to war in Iraq six years ago that that conflict would outlast that newspaper? That when the Mariners ended one of their worst seasons ever last September, that writers and photographers would not be at the ballpark on opening day in April to see Ken Griffey Jr. return back in a Seattle uniform or be there to cover a brand new soccer team at it's beginning? That this paper would not be reporting on the first 100 days of a new U.S. presidential administration, or a former Washington state governor's confirmation hearing as a U.S. cabinet secretary? Or a new police chief, or the change in recycling pick-up bins, or whether, come next winter, we'll put some salt on these streets.

The Seattle Post-Intelligencer, despite some protection in their JOA with The Times, a great and rich history, a superb staff, dedicated readership and a highly literate city, fell with so many other newspapers into that awful spiral. No one, especially not another great paper but now without competition, can replace the great work they've done or the importance to the community.

So we--among us P-I photographer Karen Ducey working to the very bitter end as she covered the very last assignment for them--watched as pressman started the final print, we crowded around to document the big blue globe nearly filling the entire front page, felt a lump in our throat, smiled at the headline “You've meant the world to us” and did what best we do—report it.

But it was YOU, P-I, that meant the world to us.

Rest in Peace, P-I.

-- 30 --

Do I really want to leave 80 degrees & sun?

2009-03-05T16:24:00.000-08:00

You know it's time to hit the road when you see this vendor's face so up close. Three weeks of covering baseball spring training--the Arizona Diamondbacks and the Colorado Rockies--have come to a close for me with Mexico beating the Rockies (for the team's seventh or so straight loss this spring) in an exhibition game this afternoon. Not to be confused with a "spring training" game for which they keep records but which don't mean anything. The "exhibition" games are scored, records are probably stored somewhere but not talked about and the games don't mean anything. Got that?

For the most part, it's been great fun, Tucson is beautiful and I'm happy to be shooting baseball again, real games or not. The fans love it, the weather was great, the players all very nice and the hiking tremendous. The downside was working side-by-side with a couple terrific newspaper journalists whose paper's closed or are just about to while I worked with them. Pros to the end, photographer Chris Schneider from the Rocky Mountain News shot beside me on the day he learned that his newspaper was closing and that by the next day, he'd be out of a job; Tucson Citizen sports writer John Moredich, whose paper is likely to close within two weeks, covered the Rockies for the AP these past several weeks and left tonight, while saying he'd likely never work in this industry again, with a smile, a shrug and good humor all the way. The economic realities of this era can't be escaped even at the ballpark, nor certainly the terribly grim reality of where newspapers are headed. My cap's off to them and their very fine colleagues.

Back to Seattle tomorrow, where it's 40 degrees colder, may even snow and is certainly raining. Sigh.

Not All Fun & Games

2009-02-21T18:54:00.001-08:00

For those of you who think an assignment to cover Major League Baseball spring training in Arizona is all fun and games, well that's hardly the case. The games don't start until Wednesday.

Meantime, I've spent the past week in Tucson covering the training camps for the Colorado Rockies and the Arizona Diamondbacks and it's pretty much like baseball everywhere--lots of sweaty young men, many playing under huge contracts paying them many millions of dollars, wearing sometimes ill-fitting polyester outfits, spitting and scratching all too often, using colorful language and playing the high-end version of a children's game.

While they're trying to work out the winter kinks, get back into playing shape and hone their skills--well, I'm pretty much trying to do the same, with the added challenge of making some interesting photos along the way. Every day is a bit of Ground Hog Day for photographers covering spring training--seeing the same faces, uniforms, stretches and drills, hefting giant lenses, several cameras and trying not to tip over on any of the many times we quickly go from stand to squat and back. And hoping you're looking in the right direction if something interesting happens to make a nice photo.

And, yes, meantime we put on sunscreen and enjoy--really enjoy--the nice weather. So far, just a few chilly days but otherwise lots of sun and temps heading solidly toward the 70's. How sweet it is.

This is about my 12th year covering spring training, my first in Tucson after covering the Mariners and Padres in the Phoenix suburb of Peoria before. While I'm missing the hubbub of Ken Griffey Jr.'s return to the Mariners, I'm loving Tucson. The city is considerably smaller, the air cleaner, the Mexican influence is stronger, it lacks most of the strip malls and chain restaurants that seem to dominate Phoenix and everybody recycles, rides a bike and hikes in the mountains. Well, at least it seems more so anyway.

Thanks to Denver Post's Cyrus McCrimmon for snapping my pix!

Dawg Day

2009-02-12T11:49:00.001-08:00

I love my job, but if I got to photograph puppies EVERY day, as long as I kept handy a cloth to clean the nose prints from the lens, it'd be just that much closer to perfect.

Meet "Dubs," the newest mascot for the Washington Huskies. He is, oddly enough, not a Siberian husky, but an Alaskan Malamute--the larger cousin of the husky (or, sort of a husky husky). I'd like to say "say it ain't so," but turns out that Butch, the WSU mascot, is just a guy in an ill-fitting cougar suit, too. At least Dubs really does have four paws. Though now I wonder what that says about the Evergreenies' Fightin' Goeducks?

Dubs is three months old and by fall he'll have tripled or more his weight and size and will be patrolling the sidelines of football games at the school, howling along with the siren every time Washington scores a touchdown. Well, enough said about that. I'll let everyone draw their own conclusions as to how much that may happen.

Thanks to Alan Berner for snapping me snapping the pup, and The Seattle Times for letting me post the photo!

One more thing on China . . .

2009-01-04T11:52:00.000-08:00

Before writing my end-of-the-year catch-up (and maybe this time, not so much in rhyme), I see that I've been awful remiss in not following up on my trip to Beijing and other parts of China, so let me scribble out a few thus-far final thoughts on that big red state—things that I was hesitant to write while still inside it's borders.

While I so enjoyed so much of China—the Olympics, the sense of place and history in Beijing and points beyond, the adventure for me of being in a wholly new culture, excellent food, beautiful architecture and striking scenery, and of course the wonderful interactions with delightful people throughout the country—there is as well so much that is very wrong with that huge and powerful country and I would be remiss if I did not talk, at least the few I am aware of, as well.

I'd read about China's “Internet Police” and their apparent constant cyberspace snooping and ability to block Web sites or , even more chilling, track down users who made Internet postings that offended the authorities. We were warned that Western journalists would likely be watched especially closely, our rooms might be searched, we may even be followed.

So I was prudently careful in blogging about the positive parts of my journey, while secretly skeptical that those folks would bother with a middle-aged photographer from Seattle. But there were things that were unsettling—the emergency exit on the floor of my hotel was barred with a huge chain and padlock; workers were posted at the elevator on our floor, carefully logging the time of our exit & entry; an eerily out-of-place man, looking more like a cop than the children and grandparents in the park, who seemed to be following me one lunch break; photos on a colleague's Web page, of behind-the-scenes Beijing, was shut down and only visible outside the country.

So now, these are a few of my less favorite things:

The Gray Wall of China

The air in Beijing was as bad as everything you've heard, and I would even guess likely much, much worse. Well before landing, in mid-day, a deep and thick gray-brown haze of pollution—a toxic mix of factory and auto emissions, blown-in desertification sand, construction dust, coal smoke, wind-blown pesticides and other airborne particulates—hung over the countryside, obscuring nearly everything until we were within just a few hundred feet of landing. From our windows as we taxied, we could see planes emerging from the cloud, not visible until seconds before they landed; control towers, less than a football field away, were barely an outline in relief.

I came to China feeling healthy and fit and within hours of landing had a sore throat and then respiratory problems throughout my visit to Beijing and Xian, never clearing until we came to clearer air considerably further south and west and in less densely populated areas weeks later. Officials had done everything in their power to lessen the air pollution in Beijing for the Olympics—moving factories (to new cities, which then endured the same noxious pollutants), limiting car traffic by up to half (or nearly one million vehicles), retrofitting and updating power plants (to standards nearly 30-years old in the U.S. and Europe), blasting clouds with bombs in an attempt to make it rain and scrub the sky. Talk about fouling your own Bird's Nest.

It's all good, so say the authorities

When I could grab a newspaper, there was just one—the Communist Party of China-controlled, state-run English-language China Daily, filled with happy international news and upbeat stories about Chinese citizens. They also always featured a few hard-luck cases of otherwise hard-working farmers or factory workers from a distant town who'd fallen on difficult times, nearly always a result of awful medical costs that had bankrupted the family, and the heart-warming result of some stranger coming to their aid and leaving me, the curious reader, wondering why there seemed to be no socialized medicine in this communist country?

While the paper was entertaining and did keep me up-to-date on at least the basics of international news, what it certainly is not is journalism. Nor, even more discouraging is that journalism—much less a free press or democracy—is a generally understood concept by young people, at least from what I saw. Whenever it seemed a good opportunity, I tried to chat with young English-speaking Chinese away from other listening ears about issues in their country and mine—primarily democracy, free press, the U.S. Constitution and the Bill of Right, human rights, the massacre in Tianamen Square 19 years earlier—apparently just what the government did fear from we Westerners! Maybe they just didn't want to be lectured by someone who more reminded them of their mother than a highly regarded internationally traveling journalist, but I was left a little discouraged to find them either listening politely with little seeming interest in following-up, or defending their government's control over their lives. One told me you couldn't possibly allow a free press, because then people would be allowed to say anything, even if it wasn't true—that was why the government should be in charge he told me.

Ah, but there was our young guide in Xian, who met us shortly after he'd watched a broadcast of Sen. Clinton addressing the Democratic National Convention. He excitedly told us all about the speech and how much he admired Clinton (and, clearly, had a thing for her), finally asking if all American women were so smart, articulate and good looking? We assured him that, yes, that was absolutely true.

The Peep's Republic

The People's Republic of China is run by the supreme political authority—the Chinese Communist Party. It's an all controlling, big red state in charge of 3.1 billion people (and most of the U.S.'s debt). And yet, when not in sight of slim soldiers leaving parted crowds in their wake as they marched always in straight lines, I often had to remind myself of where I was. A walk through the shopping district just east of the ancient Forbidden City, and so many other neighborhoods in Beijing, is a stroll into a capitalistic frenzy of electronics, fine clothing, galleries, top name brands, luxury items, jewelery and other items screaming to go in trade for your renminbi.

Happy people, but not gay people

What are the odds, 1.3 billion to one? Crazy as it sounds, apparently there are no gay people in China, at least that's what we were led to believe before traveling there. Though I've read since, and this will really scare some people, is that the Internet has now created gay people in China—ah the power of the Web!

It was suggested that Elizabeth and I just tell people that we were traveling without our husbands. While I decided my cover story was divorced, she had a better one—her husband was dead.

Seen, and unseen

Tibetan prayer flags we saw in the distance turned out to be multi-colored plastic bags stuck high in an old tree, leaving both a clear mark of both high how the spring flood waters run in the area and some idea of how trash is discarded in the countryside.

Drive along the Yangtze River, where roadside toilets were nothing more than simple partial brick buildings with daylight visible below your feet and the sound of the river coming up from below, leaving raw sewage dripping hundreds of feet on the steep drop-off to the river below, flowing to considerably more populous regions beyond.

Walk through a little village and every so often you come across a three-walled open garbage pit, contents spilling out as chickens and dogs sorted through the mess. Bike through the countryside, and there a farmer—wearing no protection from the toxins—sprays an unknown and likely uncontrolled pesticide into a breeze and across his crops, next to a stream where children play, women wash laundry and cattle drink.

Converse with a local guide about her three now-grown children and understand a little of the great fear—then her incredible relief—now some 20-years past, on the birth of her third child and only son. We had heard the stories, but to sit with a mother and have her recount her battle against extreme social pressures and the awful consequences had the child been born a girl broke our hearts and further opened our eyes, but also left us with great hope—as she's continued her battle against the traditions of farm life and managed to put all three children into college, inspiring many other women in her village to do the same.

Traveling to China was a wonderful journey and I look forward to the day when I return, perhaps again to my favorite area, the northwest Yunnan Providence and it's great similarity to the weather and mountains of the Pacific Northwest. While I was certainly discouraged by some things I saw and experience, I am still left with knowing that people are still people—given the opportunity, while some may often take the path of taking advantage of everyone and everything they can, many more others will truly look ahead and embrace their world in a manner that respects us all.

2008, the year in re-verse

2008-12-23T12:56:00.000-08:00

Twas the night before Christmas in the year 2008,
Not an AP creature was stirring, in the bureau of Washington state
The copy was stored in the local VAX with care,
Amid hope that Mayor Nickels would have no further news to share

The photographers, as always, were nestled snug at the ready,
With visions of great pictures and an intent to shoot steady
The COB in her Gortex and the news ed in his bike cap,
Hoped the staff's brains were finally settled for a long winter's nap

In the Pacific Northwest, the upper left-hand corner
The year was ending and we wondered when it'd be warmer
Then we took a few moments to review all our stories
The good, the bad, the odd and the glories

From downtown to Denver, from Ballard to Beijing
We shot thousands of pictures, and hoped they would sing!
And what to our wondering eye did appear?
A parade of newsmakers, from both far and near

The Dalai Lama arrived bearing seeds of compassion,
And citizen Rossi tried again for the governor's mansion
For victory he looked east to sagebrush and cattle,
But Gregoire just laughed, still having the People's Republic of Seattle!

There was a man from Oklahoma, so lively and quick
In barely a moment, he stole our NBA team from Mayor Nick!
And more rapid than salmon, the politicos they came
They whistled and shouted and we tried to remember their name

There Edwards and Richardson and Obama and Hillary,
And McCain and some governor and Ron Paul and Giuliani,
To the top of the Space Needle, and the Key Arena wall
They begged "please vote for us, vote for us, vote for us this fall!"

The Boeing machinists went out on a strike,
And Executive Sims said we're doomed if we don't all ride a bike
Our lieutenant governor was rightly knighted by Spain,
And all through the spring, we had nothing but rain

We went to the market and shot the fish throwers
And then to the country to photograph the vegetable growers
We went up in helicopters and shot from on high,
And even had our shoes taken away by the FBI

We went off to Forks in search of vampires,
And felt awfully lucky that we had so few wildfires
We watched in horror when the Northwest's best,
The stocks of WaMu and Starbucks tanked like most of the rest

And though our economy has taken an awful tumble,
At least our volcano has quieted to less than a rumble
Bill Gates finally retired and left his office keys on the desk
But Microsoft says the next Windows will put your worries to rest

Our Mariners, Seahawks, Huskies, Cougars and Storm
Have, at the end, left us all with nothing but to mourn
Never have our sports teams ever been so dumpy
Except for our national champs, hurrah UW women's cross country!

Elaine went to China for Olympics and fun
Ted went to Alaska to see Palin vote and be done
And just when the shooters thought they were just groovin',
The bosses said "Video! Let's now have pictures that are movin'!"

What will become of the city without it's hoops?
As journalists we're always searching, so hoping for scoops
Will Boeing's 787's ever take their flights?
And would the last departing SuperSonic please turn out the lights?

So as we reflect on the year 20-ought-eight
We'd like to remember all things that are great
Winning teams, world peace and sunny-clear weekends
But yet most of all, you, our colleagues and dear friends.

All the best for 2009!

Ladies of Lugo Lake

2008-09-07T05:55:00.000-07:00

Six hour's of twisting, windy driving on the "highway" to Lugo Lake, the sort of road that most of us would think of as a single-lane seldom-maintained country road is treated as a two- and sometimes three-lane highway here. Cars, motorcycles, SUV's, mini- and maxi-buses compete with each other as well as pedestrians, goats, pigs, dogs, chickens, horses, ponies, geese, cats and school children. We're told that driver's are especially careful of not hitting the farm animals because of the high compensation they'd have to pay--$1000 Yuan (about $150 U.S.) for not letting the chicken cross to the other side.

That show alone was nearly worth the long drive. The lake, too, is nice, large and set in a remote area of northwest Yunnan, bordering on Sichuan province and is one of the last remaining matriachel societies remaining.

How about Chinese tonight?

2008-09-05T02:36:00.000-07:00

A quick note while I have another brief visit to an internet connection . . .

About the food in China, for the most part, it's been really great nearly everywhere we go. But, crazy as it sounds, you pretty much just get Chinese food.

We tried local versions of "Western" a couple of times, ugh. Pizza just isn't the same and the sliver of steak and potatoes wouldn't cut it even at Sizzler. Best to stick with what the locals know, so fresh veggies (most often cooked just perfect) and meat fresher than we ever imagined. So fresh, in fact, that we're leaning closer to becoming vegetarians than ever before. We've come across not one but two pig slaughters in our meanderings through villages and vowed to do our best to avoid pork (pretty much impossible, truth be told), pointed at fish in a bucket out front and had it served to us, perfectly spiced and cooked, minutes later inside. Stepping inside a finer restaurant on another day, we heard a horrible sound from a duck just outside the door, then a worker carrying it's lifeless body inside moments later. The bathroom was adjacent to a tiny outdoor court, where cages held snakes, giant rat-like creatures (nutria?) and chickens in view of a kitchen just beyond.

They generally serve huge portions, the two of us are given enough food for an extended Catholic family. But without the Dlugolenski clan around, we wind up leaving a lot behind. We're told that it's expected that about a third or so of the food should be left, but our Western sensibilities still have problems with the concept of wasting so much (though we also hear that left-overs go to the pig trough under the house next door). We did clear our plates yesterday, and our wonderful guide "Jack" teasingly said that he would lose face because of it. His handsome face remains firmly intact, however, so on we go!

Trains, planes and hot air balloons

2008-09-04T06:00:00.000-07:00

Arrival in Lijiang last night via Chengdu from Guilin from Yangshuo. Who knew? Hot air balloon ride over Yangshuo and the incredible karst limestone peaks. I thought they were pretty from the ground, but getting up at 5 a.m. for the pre-dawn flight was worth waiting on the coffee. And that's saying something. Then on to Guilin, a flight to Chengdu to grab luggage and change airlines for the quick turn-around flight to Lijiang. And thanks to those Chengdu airline employees who gave us VIP service on seeing my Olympic credentials/visa, howzabout that?!

Lijiang--so far our favorite place in China. It's raining & cool, which cut out much of the view of our trip to Snow Dragon Mountain this morning, but made us feel right at home with the very Seattle weather. Old town is a beaut, a so-far pleasant ratio of less tourist tacky and more China natural (and not a centipede on-a-stick in sight). Night found the workers of the cooks local dancing and chanting around a burn barrel in solidarity with their union brother and sister machinist workers in Seattle. Such a small world, after all.

We'll spend another day of wandering the back alleys of this beautiful place, than on to Lugo Lake and their very interesting matriarchal society.

Monday? Must be Yangshou

2008-09-01T01:09:00.000-07:00

If this is Monday, it must be Yangshou.

Our journey across parts of China continues rapid fire. Elizabeth arrived safely in Beijing, got her feet on the ground (including many foot paces throughout the Forbidden City and Tiannamen Square) for a day before we headed to one of the city's busiest train stations where we went through the narrow gates with most of Beijing's 14 million people.

But a two-person sleeper berth awaited on a luxury train for our transport to Xian, terra cotta warriors and disappointed jade salesmen (having already spent most of my Yuan on Olympic paraphernalia). Luxury being no towels, TP or coffee, certainly leaving us wondering how the other half travels. And it is the way to go, despite the Germans outside our door trying hard to enjoy the weak beer until late hours and a thunder and lightening show that brought rain smashing against the metal train roof inches over my head.

An overnight stay in Xian for the 7-foot tall, 8,000 warrior-strong army visit and the equally impressive outing to another long-passed emperor's tomb of midget warriors and we were off to Guilin. A quick dinner there at the interestingly-named Repulse Bay diner and a post-dark ride on the too-Disney-for-our taste boat ride before we crashed & burned at our Li River-view hotel. The morning walk showed the local side of Guilin, like the middle-aged swimmers in the Li and the distinctive bamboo boats already plying the waters. Then off to the nearby mountains to trek a bit atop the Dragon's Back, a spectacular rice and vegetable-growing region in mountains as high as 2,400 feet.

Ping An, our overnight berth in the low mountains, is now a tourist destination overrun with Yao women and other "touts" trying hard to separate us from our sweaty Yuan, but we held firm to our wallets, enjoyed the fantastic scenery, managed to hike to a nearby village with not a tout in site, just lots of cute puppies, baby ducks and a pig slaughter in progress. At least the locals know where their food comes from, and in this area it's not a foam package from Safeway.

The trek back saw us using the same porters as on the way up, a pair of middle-aged women carrying our bags in woven basket backpacks--one having replaced the daughter of another whose young friend had chatted happily on a cell phone much of the way. We are very much finding that Third World meets First in many places in China.

A couple of nights at the Foggy "Resort" (they DID have Western toilets and a 25-yard pool!) where we yet again ran into a pig slaughter and tried hard to not order pork that night and this afternoon's three-hour river cruise past the spectacular & dramatic limestone hills (though, truthfully, coming here from the Pacific Northwest, we have to fake our ohh's and ahh's a bit) along the banks brings us to Yangshou, where tomorrow we are to bicycle and hike with local guide Wendy. Word is that the trails in this area are a highlight of any trip to China and while I'd put the North Cascades or San Juans up against anything we've yet seen, we're still very much enjoying seeing what this part of our planet has to offer.

Lots of Chinese food, for one. What we'd give right now for a Red Mill burger!

Olympix

2008-08-23T20:03:00.000-07:00

Trying desperatly to get the energy to pack and wondering when the hotel authorities will come to my door asking me to leave, but what the heck--one more quick note from my little corner of the Olympics.

Final assignment for me at the 2008 Beijing Olympics last night, Saturday, the gold medal baseball game between Cuba and South Korea. A good game, pitcher's duel and drama till the end in South Korea's upset victory. For me and the other many photographers and writers, it was a welcome end to a very long and hot day. Very much like the other 10 days that I've shot out-of-doors this week, much of the day I worked in direct sun, no breeze, high humidty and awful temperatures, and on little sleep for much of these past two weeks, the final out was a welcome relief.

It's been an exhausting two weeks--hot, tiring, long and wearing on body and soul. And not for a second would I trade it for anything.

There is nothing else that comes close to the Olympics, no other event on Earth that is intended--and often does in at least some small ways--to bring the world together in peace and goodwill on a single stage. The Olympics is big, blustery, outrageous, full of itself and elite, and it is also made up of thousands of nearly unnoticed people who contributed small and wonderful moments that will be carried forward in the hearts of those who bore witness. Volunteers--most especially at our softball venue at Fengtai Field to who I am ever so grateful for their assistance--who glady helped in any way, large or small, and then took moments to steal us away when possible to chat about America or China or both; taxi drivers who had made an effort to learn a few essential English phrases and played language tapes in their cars as they worked; 60-year-old women playing a feathered version of hackey sack in the park who invited us to join in their game; rail-thin young soldiers standing atop boxes at attention, losing their authoritarian composure for a moment to return a smile and nod; good-humored subway ticket takers helping muck our way through their transport system; locals who time & again asked to have their photos taken with us and so many others, but especially as well to my AP colleagues and other journalists from across the planet who do such a wonderful job of bringing this place and these moments to the world. It is no small task and I am in awe and amazement at what a truly amazing job they do in that.

So, it's a last day of catch-up, moving hotels, a visit to the MPC (Main Press Center) at the Olympic Green to finish paperwork and drop off gear, then Elizabeth arrives and off we go traveling this very intriguing country for nearly three weeks. We'll be in Xian, Guilin and Lijiang and if technology allows, I'll continue to add to these posts. Thanks to you all for taking a peek here and joining me at my Olympic adventure!

Have a lucky day!

Final Final

2008-08-21T23:31:00.000-07:00

It was both a sweet and bitter finish in the final final last night--the gold medal game between USA and Japan and the last Olympic softball to be played after the IOC banished it until, and if, it's ever reinstated.

Sweet, oh so very sweet for Japan and new national hero starting, and finishing, pitcher Yukiko Ueno. She pitched 21 innings over two games a day earlier and came back to start and complete the game again. Ueno is the one pitcher that has ever really challenged the US team and she was at her most brilliant last night.

As my AP colleague Tom Withers wrote of the game:

"Behind a rubber-armed pitcher who stared down the world's mightiest lineup and never blinked, Japan stunned the U.S. team 3-1 yesterday, denying the Americans a fourth straight gold medal in the sport's last swing until at least 2016.

"The loss was the first for the Americans since Sept. 21, 2000 at the Sydney Games. They had won 22 in a row, most by outrageously lopsided scores. With power pitchers, power hitters, power everything, the Americans set the standard and showed no signs of slowing down."

Therein lies the bitter. The US was expected to dominate this tournament and did, often with a near-vengence, until their one last turn against Ueno. She, not Team USA, became the sports golden girl last night. It was a stunning loss for the Americans, who all along had no doubt that they would be leaving Beijing wearing the gold, a final consolation against the ultimate lose of the Olympic sport.

In a lovely symbolic gesture, at the end of the night, players left their cleats on home plate, then joined their fellow medalists in a final chant from near the pitchers mound.

Their games end. Mine contine for at least one more day, on to baseball Friday!

Let's play four!

2008-08-20T17:14:00.000-07:00

Four-a-day softball qualifying games for seven days as each of the eight Olympic teams went round-robin through the first week, then another three to determine who heads into the gold medal game tonight. That's 31 games I've covered, shooting by myself until joined by another AP staffer for yesterday's round, before tonight's big final.

And I thought I had seen it all, great athletes playing at the top of their game--tremendous fielding, strategic batting, massive home runs, dominating pitching, truly wonderful play by competitors from all corners of the world.

And then along comes Japan's newest marathon woman, pitcher Yukiko Ueno, who raised the bar on all of them.

Having already put in a long week, Ueno started yesterday's highlight game against the U.S. and became the first pitcher in this tournament, if not in years, to hold the U.S. from getting any runs not just through the standard seven innings, but on into the first of the two extra innings it took for the U.S. to finally put runs on the board and win and epic battle, 4-1, advancing to tonight's gold medal game.

That was just Ueno's warm-up. Japan had one more game to play yesterday, the evening game against Australia to see which of those two teams would then go up against the U.S. for the gold (Australia having beat Canada mid-day). In a sport in which pitchers generally throw seven innings and then get a day off, Ueno then made her second start of the day. The game became a classic and yet another epic battle, low scores but just enough to keep things tight & back-and-forth leads before another tie and another round of extra innings. This time, seven stretched to 12, Ueno remained rock solid and stayed in the game, each team coming agonizingly close to winning or losing in any given moment.

In the end, on the broad shoulders of Ueno and her 21 innings of pitching Wednesday, Japan pulled it out, a 4-3 victory--sending them back up against the U.S. for the title in the final final.

The big story tonight, look to see who starts--and finishes--for Japan.

Hitting the Wall

2008-08-19T06:46:00.000-07:00

Long, hard days and we finally hit the wall.

Or THE wall I should say, the great big one that Qin clan began building some 2,000 years ago and, from what we could see, is still a work in progress. Originally made of a core of packed dirt, it was later reinforced with brick and stone slabs and took about 100 years to complete --or pretty much similar to the current work on Seattle's Alaskan Way Viaduct.

Tom and I did the Chinese equivilant of driving to the south rim of the Grand Canyon and peeking over the side, joining the masses at the closest point to Beijing, at Badaling. The 70-some kilimeter drive from Beijing is an unanticipated delight, the road rises from the plain into low and sharply cut mountains, suprisingly covered in green and looking remarkably for a moment like driving the North Cascade Highway. The scene on arrival, however, is a quick jolt to senses and is suddenly a carnival of sorts, with rows and rows of shoulder-to-shoulder small stands, hawkers yelling as you pass "hello lady, water?" "hi hello, would you like to buy?" "hello, we have nice shirts" "hi, cold beer? (ok, that one almost got us)," selling virtually identical hats, tee shirts & bottles of water.

It's a medium-short walk past the hawkers and up onto the wall. The Great Wall. Then a moment of confusion, as you have a choice of going left or right and it's clear that nearly everyone heads to the right, huge masses already at mid-morning in a parade along the wall. But to the left, very few, uncrowded and, from what it seems, the same views. In keeping with the great traditions of journalists and always have to be different, left it was. Turns out, the climb that way is steeper and a bit more difficult and consequently, much quieter and pretty easy to find plenty of leg room. We walked as far as allowed, perhaps a little less than a mile up and down the wall and were left marveling at so many things about it. How it was built, the beautiful setting, the crazy steepness of many portions, the heat and then the sudden coolness of the towers. And the Starbucks at the bottom. Yes, so much like home, this China.

Beijing, baby!

2008-08-18T01:43:00.000-07:00

So, a little about being here.

It's huge, bigger than you can imagine. So different than home and my usual life. Here, guards watch your every move or ask to see your papers, there are multiple check-points wherever you go, your belongings may be examined at any time, everything is controlled as much as humanly possible, it's an autocracy of the highest order. All things are planned, those in authority leave little to chance, media members are watched with special care, moving from one spot to another is so very difficult, people talk so differently. I might as well be in a foreign county.

But enough about the Olympics. Let me tell you about China.

It's awesome.

Before coming, I thought I would enjoy my visit and while I've only seen the tiniest slice of Beijing so far, I'm finding that it's an even more wonderful place than I imagined. Yes, it's huge and terribly polluted (a couple of rain storms have lately eased that considerably), it has tremendous growing pains and has terrible traffic problems and in many ways is much like any other major metropolitan city on the planet.

But, still, it's China.

It's 40-year-old bicycles used as main commuter, shopping and work vehicles--no spandex, no helmets. It's large and serene urban parks filled with people playing table tennis, badminton, hackey sack-like games, tai chi, yoga, dance, swimming. Fast and efficient subways. No litter, no graffiti.

It's dramatic--the largest airport terminal on the planet, wide open space of Tiananmen Square, a giant portrait of Mao over the gate to the Forbidden City. Stick-thin soldiers, so young they have no memories going back even 19 years, standing everywhere at attention or marching in formation through crowds of tourists.

China is beautiful. There is beauty in the architecture, old & new. Beauty in the parks, the water, the flowering lily pads, flower boxes along roads, the dragonflys in the ballpark. Highways, the train station, high-rises outlined with lights and changing the look of the city as it goes from day to night.

An best so far, the people I've encountered--at the venues, streets, subways, shops--have nearly without exception been friendly, kind and curious. English-speaking or not (and many are), we somehow and so far manage, despite the stresses of travel, new places and deadlines, to communicate and enjoy each other's company.

Softball Softball Softball! Oi Oi Oi!!!

2008-08-16T23:55:00.000-07:00

In the while I'm thinking of it mode, here are a few scenes from my slice of the Olympics--the Fengtai Softball Field on the southwest corner of the Fourth Ring Road in beautiful Beijing. We're halfway through today's games, Day Six of our seven day stretch of four-a-days as the Olympic games reach the halfway point.

The U.S. continues to dominate, still undeated at 5-0 and, sadly for our Netherlands fans, goes up against the 0-5 Nedders this evening. Japan is the solid number two at 5-1 and then things start to bunch together a bit--Canada 3-2, Australia 3-2 , China, Venezuela (a mighty surprise to challenge Japan deep earlier this morning) and Taiwan all at 2-4. That all makes tomorrow a very big day for those on the bubble before the semi's Wednesday. Gold medal game, of course, will be Thursday. Wednesday for those of you still back in the states.

While it's well away from other Olympic arenas, it's a lovely venue. The permanent structure of risers surrounding the infield now sports temporary bleachers surround the outfield that give the park a complete stadium look and there's not a bad seat in the house. The Chinese (and the very enthusiastic Aussies) are doing a good job of bringing in the crowds--considerably more than four years earlier in Greece, where, despite it's location adjacent to several other Olympic sports, the stadium often had no more than a handful of fans.

But the Chinese know how to host the show, presenting a beautiful field, bringing in fans, educating them constantly through the public announcement system ("Did you know, the purpose of the game is to score more runs than your opponent?" "Please leave the ballpark, taking all of your litter with you." "Be sure to take appropriate precautions against the sun which can be hot" "Please take shelter under the roofs from the eletrical storm, which otherwise may kill you.").

Rain like home

2008-08-14T02:05:00.000-07:00

A rainy day at Olympic softball in Beijing is pretty much like a rainy day at UW football in Seattle. While the softball game stops, I still wind up working under a tarp to move photos—what an interesting challenge that is in the Pacific Northwest or Asia East.

It's nearly a wholly outdoor venue here, so while the players bail to the dugouts when the clouds open, Tom & I bail under plastic tarps as fast as we can to protect our computers and cameras. Wow, today was a challenge.

It rained today, and oh did it rain.

On this, our third day of four-games-a-day softball, a morning thick with humidity and a sense of drama in the air, rain began two innings into the much-anticipated U.S. versus Canada game, both teams so far undefeated in this tournament. A few raindrops turned into a quick and steady heavy cloudburst, with some rumblings of thunder in the distance. The teams cleared the field, my colleagues pulled the plastic over our gear and I ran to shoot weather features. My only point for transmission is from either the tribune or photo wells, all very much exposed, so I hunkered down under the tarps—with awesome volunteers helping me hold the plastic tight—and moved photos.

The rain finally lessened, field crews swarmed the field and dried it, some with handheld giant sponges, and game on again.

For an inning. Sigh. The earlier rain was just a sprinkle in comparison, this time the wind blew in, lightening lit the skies, thunder rumbled and the rain was a wide-open faucet—as hard as any I've been in. Crazy fun to try to keep the equipment dry this time, and truly even a bit scary. This time we packed everything under the blowing tarps and lighting storm and headed in for coffee and noodles.

Two more games scheduled for tonight, but the storm has turned to a steady drizzle. Likely a rain-out and maybe a chance for a nice dinner and heading over to watch USA versus Greece men's basketball.

Play ball!

2008-08-12T01:25:00.000-07:00

Softball--my number one Olympic assignment--began today and I'll try to sneak in quick note while we're halfway through our four-game day. North America is so far dominating the tourney, with the USofA beating up on poor Venezuela earlier, but the Vennies did manage to hold the mighty scoring machine off for an inning. The Canadians did their share earlier, dominating Taiwan (aka: Chinese Taipei) to make all North Am's pretty darn proud.

Scoreboard temp was noted at 72, but they really cannot be right. It SO cannot be. It was oh-so hot and muggy--all that we expected of course, but still & all, colleague Tom and I are holding out hope that at least occasionally we'll catch a cool day or a nice breeze. Not to complain--I mean--it IS the Olympics and all, but the humidity and heat is one big fat pain. I transmit from my laptop from either the press tribune (I know, what the heck is a "tribune?") or the photo wells where we have dedicated connectivity. So . . . it's outside all day long and trying to see my computer screen well, keep it--and me--cool, not spill soda or dripping ice cream into the keyboard, well, you can see that it ain't all fun & games here. Sometimes it's just fun.

So, softball. Four games a day for seven straight days (if no rain) before a day break for the semi's and finals. We get here 8:30ish for the 9:30 game, following a 20-minute taxi ride from our most glam hotel (one of Beijing's BEST three-star hotel's, we're told--which sounds so much better than featuring it as one of their lesser four-stars) adjacent to the Beijing Military Museum. Final game will end 9:30ish, then taxi back to glamazonia an hour or so post. Drink adult beverage, sleep, start again.

Great treat yesterday, though. I was assigned fencing! While I know considerably more about the home improvement-type, I became a quick student of women's individual foil. It's hardly like a pirate movie, but shooting women poking each other with sharpened sticks for 10 hours does have it's excitement. For one thing, they scream not only every time they score a point, but every time they THINK they should have scored. However, because they're completely encased in protective helmets with electrical cords sticking out of them, it's all a bit muffled. But it's not unappreciated by the fans.

Ok, about to start here--more later, including lots of catch-up on some really wonderful experiences in China. I do like it here and will tell you all soon why.

Olympic start

2008-08-10T16:10:00.000-07:00

Just a quick note!

Exhausting trip, but started with my first wonderful Olympic moment--finding, in the largest airport terminal on the planet and by absolute chance, my softball venue collegue Tom Withers. Tom had arrived from Ohio a little less than two hours earlier and was super kind to wait and search for me two terminals over and found me among the tens of thousands. Made it so much easier to see a familar face minutes after arrive and to muck our way around in getting to the hotel and main Olympic venue.

Having depleted most of our energy in the long flights from the states, we were running on adreline the few few hours on the ground and maybe these first couple of days. Still catching up and more to come soon!

Happy trails

2008-08-08T11:23:00.000-07:00

On my way! And don't I look fresh? Just wait another 11 hours and we'll see.

Sending this quick note as I sit on the floor of the international gates in Vancouver, B.C., waiting to board for my flight to Beijing. Booted up to do a quick check of e-mail, and--most importantly--update my iPod with the latest NPR and other news to listen to on the way.

A great Olympic start. My Ethiopian taxi driver was only disappointed that he couldn't drive me all the way to Beijing, but he's a big running fan and I now know more about the great the Ethiopian and Kenyan long distance runners than ever before. And he's sure that Lagat will be dusted, especially in the 5,000 meter. Ha--we'll see!

United Airlines ticket agent is another great Olympic fan, and we shared stories of our visits to SLC for the 2002 winter games. Thanks for your help Lara and send your brother-in-law a note, his e-mail got booted back to me!

cheers all and happy trails!

Beijing Baby Boomers

2008-08-06T11:17:00.000-07:00

In what became a pair of penultimate Olympic moments for me eight years ago, I was mistaken—not once, but twice—for being an Olympic athlete.

We all wear similar credentials at the Olympics, differentiated between athletes, coaches, officials, media, volunteers and others by block letters or other symbols, but to a casual glance they all look impressively alike.

And most everyone wears them most everywhere during the Games, as they allow access not only to venues but as a free pass on public transit, too. And that's where it happened, both times riding a train in Sydney on a day off, wearing athletic-type clothes and apparently looking tanned & fit, I was asked, in what I distinctly recall in reverent and hushed tones, “what sport do you compete in?”

Tell me that wouldn't make your day.

I heard those words directed at me again four years later, on public transit in Athens. “What sport do you . . .” and before they'd even finished I quickly thought through what I could say to not disappoint them in what they were sure was a chance encounter with an Olympic athlete.

“. . . coach?”

Ouch.

How far I'd fallen. I've been sadly imagining what I'll hear this time around. “What sport do you . . . cover? volunteer at? enjoy watching? think the IOC will vote out? have a grandchild in?” It certainly seems as if my time has come and gone.

But, a few Beijing Olympians are giving me—and millions of other aging baby boomers—renewed hope that we could become athletes once again, or at least have the potential to become a decent facsimile.

Among those listed in a recent MSNBC story heading to compete in Beijing are Japanese horseman Hiroshi Hoketsu, expected to be the oldest competitor there at age 67 and returning to the Games after a 44-year break. Laurie Lever, 60, is an equestrian from Australia. Canadian show jumper Ian Millar, 61, returns for his ninth Olympics. Canadian trap shooter Susan Nattrass is 57. Fifty-year-olds include Canadian fencer Luan Jujie, Australian sailor Iain Murray, British horseman Nick Skelton.

Americans Libby Callahan, shooting, is 56, Richard Johnson, archery, is 52. There is a French cyclist who is 49 and a Israeli marathoner who is 53.

And the favorite of many, U.S. swimming supermom Dara Torres, 41 and with a two-year-old daughter, competes in her fifth Olympics as the oldest American to swim at the Games. She is also swimming faster than she ever has.

So, before I leave for Beijing Friday, I'll take another dunk in Green Lake, jog Ted the dog to lower Woodland, run the stairs at Golden Gardens or maybe get in one last bicycle ride on the Burke Gilman trail, and happily ponder my response to anyone there who asks me “what sport do you . . .”

Ni hao!

2008-08-01T12:21:00.000-07:00

Forgive us our press passes.

Sometimes they are little more than scraps of paper on a string, or occasionally neatly laminated, others dazzle with color graphics, photos and shiny holograms, or require FBI-type background checks and double as entry visas to a foreign country (and we suspect come embedded with computer chips that can be read at a distance with a remote scanner).

Those are our tickets to a better-than-front-row seat on the world.

We sometimes pretend they're no big deal as they hang casually from around our necks—catching on notebook spirals, camera straps and colleague appendages—as we go about our business to inform, report, sort through the chaos of the world, shed light on dark corners, comfort the afflicted, afflict the comfortable, yadda yadda yadda.

Truth is, at times, we who wear them really think they're the coolest thing.

So, please forgive me a little for bragging, but I have one of the coolest of them all. I'm looking at it now and I start using it a week from today. It came in a tidy orange and yellow envelope labeled “Olympic Identitiy and Accreditation Card.” And yes, they did misspell “identity.” Can that be the only thing that will go wrong in Beijing?

The Games of the XXIX Olympiad, in China beginning 080808, will be my IVth Olympics to cover as a photographer for the Associated Press, following Sydney 2000, Salt Lake City 2002 and Athens 2004. Every one of them awesome, every one of them making me feel as if I was the most privileged photographer on the planet, every one giving me “Olympic moments” to take to my heart and with me back home.

As I've done from some of those events in the past, I'd like to share those Olympic moments with my family & friends, as well. So, please join me in this blog soon-to-be from Beijing as I post photos and talk about those things I hope you might like to see and read about—the “sequins before noon” type of items. They are the looks behind-the-scene, stories about food, transport, weather, language barriers, athletes, what the venues are like, coping with big lenses and bad air, how we get photos from the dusty softball sidelines in suburban Beijing to the newspaper on your porch in Grand Rapids or the web page you're looking at in Seattle, how very different China is—or isn't—from those other places I've been.

In Beijing, I'll cover 32 softball games over nine days, as I did in Greece, and whatever else is sent my way. I'll be at a venue unlike others I've seen, where softball will be the only sport at that location, some eight or so miles from the main Olympic green. I'll also be staying in a hotel away from the main area of media housing, so my Olympic experience already promises to be different and, likely, more interactive with the locals.

So forgive us our press passes (and forgive me Daniel Schorr, for borrowing that line). Please let me know what you'd like to see or read about from my tiny slice of the big Olympic pie and I look forward to sharing with you all!

Zui jian!