A Zipline Harness is the New Black
If you live near Bethesda, within an hour you could be part of the latest extreme action craze: dangling from a steel cable and whirring from one big tree trunk to another. It seems that everyone’s trying zip-lining these days.
Before 2002, it would have been unlikely to have a friend share zip-line stories over drinks, but now you can’t hoist a beer without knocking into someone who’s harnessed up and zipped. And the number of thrill-seekers has been doubling each year since 2008. In our area, there are three nearby canopy tours and many more within a few hours drive.
Recently, I found myself sweaty-palmed and inching across slender balance beams suspended above the forest floor, wishing the obstacle course features of the park weren’t so darned high up.
It isn’t enough to just ride across vast clearings on your line, you also have to swing Tarzan-style into giant nets and crawl through hanging tunnels.
My kids loved it, though from now on, I’ll be quite happy to stay on the ground. You have until mid-December to try it for yourself and share tales of your own harness-fittings at this year's seasonal parties.
Looking to Chill
Last winter, I succumbed to peer pressure to downhill ski despite total lack of skills and an intense dislike for speed.
Still emotionally scarred a year later by a harrowing descent on the green level “Salamander” slope at West Virginia's Timberline Resort, I resolved on this year's ski trip to bring a stack of good books and crossword puzzles and to skip the slippery antics.
I would prop pillows by the cozy fireplace and not even once think about riding the swaying ski lift, dangling like an earring over a vast icy mountainside, while people darted like hornets all over the slope below.
No, this year, I would avoid the whole chaotic scene and stay put in our cabin. Or at least that was my plan until I heard about White Grass.
Just 5 miles from our rented house was a laid-back cross-country ski mecca with a homey café and a hippie vibe and it was there, after enjoying a delicious bowl of spinach and barley soup and a turkey panini, that I found my new sport.
White Grass has been outfitting cross-country skiers since 1959 and it has a North Pole vintagey feel: a big pot-bellied wood stove glows in the foyer and handpainted signs adorn the rental area. No molded plastic boots stomped up steps; no bad, expensive hot-dogs and pizza congealed in the lodge; no lift lines (or ambulances parked nearby!)
The difference between the hubbub of the downhill slopes and the whispery winter trails at White Grass was the perfect cure for my ski-related terror. A 20-minute mini-lesson (only $6!) with a cute instructor had me striding and gliding in short order past barns and horses and snow-laden pine branches.
I stuck to the “easy beginner” trails, but there are more challenging ones with sections of hills and twists for the thrill-seeker. For a path to becoming a fearless skier, it's totally chill.
How about you? Would you trade downhill thrills for a country glide through the woods?
O’s v. Nats: It’s in the Ballpark
This summer I had the pleasure of pretending to be a baseball fan at both of our local stadiums, the relatively new Nationals Park and Camden Yards in Baltimore.
We took Metro to the Nationals game, watching the train fill with more red caps and shirts at every stop. I enjoyed the lively scene coming down the promenade on the short walk from the Navy Yard Metro stop to the front gates as people bought peanuts, met friends, and socialized before going in to root for their team. There's a great sense of arrival approaching this stadium. It feels like a party at the gates.
The new phenom, Strasburg was pitching (latest surgery news here), and people seemed giddy to be there. Luckily, in spite of the buzz, we were able to buy tickets on the spot for pretty good seats.
As someone who is only mildly and politely interested in what’s happening on the diamond, ambiance plays a big role in my baseball outing. In spite of the joyful, red-colored gaiety in and around Nationals Park, I prefer the old-timey, intimate feel imposed by the long brick warehouse wall and the sweeping city views at Camden Yards. Even the gleeful roar that sounded as Strasburg took the mound is not enough to entice me to this more concrete-feeling baseball park.
Nationals Park, designed by the same firm that created the plans for Camden Yards (and about 15 other parks since then), purposefully lacks the retro touches of the Baltimore design. But whatever makes it more modern, also gives it a generic feeling. Nor does it feel attached to its city in the same way the Orioles’ park does.
Josh Levin writes, when he compares Nationals Park to the temporary former home of the team, “If RFK Stadium was an old acquaintance who'd seen better days, then Nationals Park is the pal who's always asking you for money."
I found both excursions rather expensive and both venues filled, in a theme-park kind of way, with pricey food stalls, high-cost souvenirs, and even kiddie rides. Certainly, if you’re taking your family to a game, you’ll spend hundreds of dollars on the event. (The Team Marketing Report, a sports marketing publishing company, shares its shocking averages here.) My friend Adam looked at the children-sized Orioles jersey for his daughter and politely walked away: $79.99 seemed high, even for this ardent O’s fan and devoted dad. At least you are immersed in the historical feel and beauty of Camden Yards when you surrender your dollars there.
This photo is by Amanda Lippert, www.baseballstadiumreviews.com
For me it comes down to this: Nationals Park has Teddy's BBQ, the racing presidents and also, “Shout” by Otis Day and the Knights during the 7th inning stretch. The Orioles’ park sits amidst great pubs and restaurants, has awesome crabcakes for sale inside the gates (only $12 which is barely a mark-up compared to the $7.25 you spend for a beer!), and, curiously, “Thank God, I’m a Country Boy” as its mid-game, crowd-rousing ditty (“Life ain’t nothin' but a funny, funny riddle!")
Sadly, if you’re sitting in a seat at Camden Yards, you’ll be (one of the few fans) in one of the most beautiful parks in the country, watching the worst team in the league. Still, I’ll take the Orioles and the longer ride home.