Outdoors

James B. Summers took this image on June 2 at Saltese Flats Wetland Area. The yellow-headed blackbird was flying erratically before landing. The snack in its beak shows why. 

For 16 years after becoming (briefly) the youngest American to summit the world’s highest peak, Jess Roskelley continued to pack his life with achievement – earning income and accolades as a welder, tying the knot with the woman of his dreams and climbing into an elite echelon of American mountaineering – before it all came to a sudden tragic end in the Canadian Rockies.

Only as an afterthought did John and Jess Roskelley talk about the corpses in their route through the Death Zone of Mount Everest. On May 30, 2003, their first morning back in Spokane and 10 days after standing on top of the world’s highest peak, the father-son team woke to other concerns in a strange land they call home.

Fly fishing

The Washington state Department of Fish and Wildlife will host Fish Fest on June 6 at Fort Spokane Day Use Area, located about 24 miles north of Davenport on State Route 25.

A California quail calls from a pine tree on Tuesday. Reader David Bessen took this photo on Spokane’s South Hill.

One of the most redeeming qualities of being a writer is that one has a well-developed imagination. While it has often convinced me that sounds outside my tent are bears, coyotes and Sasquatch, it has also spent the last several months telling me I glide through the water with increasing fishlike grace.

Last year, my friend, Nelson, gave us his sailboat.

The pureness of the Bikecentennial mission captured my heart and led me years later to serve on its board as the nonprofit transitioned to Adventure Cycling. I could think of nothing more purely beneficial to civilization and the planet than encouraging more people to ride bikes. I was a wide-eyed Montanan who knew little about the real world except that I wanted to see it. The bicycle was my vehicle to that end, breaking down barriers like a tank.

Pedaling across the United States stands out from my numerous lifetime adventures because of the time invested.

Fly fishing

Andy Jacobs and Eric Sorensen are a couple of normal guys from Pullman with a highly abnormal goal: Along with four friends, they plan to start – and possibly finish – a somewhat deranged boat race that stretches 750 miles from Port Townsend, Washington, to Ketchikan, Alaska. The start date is June 14.

Andy Jacobs spent his childhood as a Puget Sound wharf rat who often tagged along with his father, a commercial fisherman, on summer trips to Alaska. His Pullman home is a final resting place for boats of all descriptions, some seaworthy, others not; he keeps a 27-foot sailboat at a marina south of Seattle. When he’s not messing about in boats, Jacobs is the co-owner of a worker-owned cooperative and provides tech services for other co-ops.

Ahead of Lincoln Park’s second annual Great Invasive Weed Pluck and Nature Day, organizers warn that attendees may come away with more than just free coffee and doughnuts.

As spring leans toward summer, many people are drawn toward water in that most direct way: swimming.

For the last 10 years, my friend, Rick Bonino, and I have had an ambitious goal: to hike together – or ski or snowshoe together – at least once a month, every month of the year. We dubbed ourselves the Bonino-Kershner Hiking and Brewpub Club, since we decided that every trek would finish with a brewpub visit.

Dad opened the back door of our station wagon and glared at me and my sister. “Get out of the car,” he said through gritted teeth.We’d just pulled into a parking lot at Grand Canyon National Park, one of the stops on our family road trip.

The earth, still soft from spring showers, gives way to the blade of the hoe. The air is cool and a just-detectable breeze moves across the ridge where the Lazy T Trail winds through cedar and fir trees.About a dozen volunteers with the Selway-Bitterroot Frank Church Foundation armed with Pulaskis, McLeod’s, Rogue Hoes, loppers and a crosscut saw named Emma, labor to rehabilitate the trail