Outdoorsports

Abby Sunderland is bundled in foul-weather gear at the tiller of the 40-foot racing yacht Wild Eyes as it grudgingly navigates chaotic swells on a northward trudge against a bone-chilling head wind along the Baja California coast. But as long hours pass into even worse conditions, there are no complaints from the 16-year-old from Thousand Oaks, who knows this is paradise compared with what she'll soon face much farther from home and in far more turbulent seas. If this has a familiar tone, it's understandable.

For Patrick and Tanner Gudauskas, the dream will be realized surrealistically as they catch their first waves during the Quiksilver Pro at Snapper Rocks on Australia's Gold Coast. Thousands of fans in a natural amphitheater will cheer every surfer's slashing top-turn, cutback and aerial. Giant TV screens will enable even the athletes to glimpse replays as they sprint up the beach to paddle back out after each long ride. "It's pretty much a dream come true; you can't really say anything more than that," Patrick Gudauskas, 24, said of his long-anticipated arrival onto the sport's highest plateau.

What's good for Bode Miller is good for America. What? Ridiculous as that reads, four years after his enfant terrible turn at the 2006 Turin Olympics, there may be a ski tip of truth to it. With the Vancouver Olympics fast approaching, we'd like to report Miller is reciting acts of contrition while negotiating a couch summit with Oprah to explain his boorish behavior in Italy, where he failed to win anything or anybody over --...

What's good for Bode Miller is good for America. What? Ridiculous as that reads, four years after his enfant terrible turn at the 2006 Turin Olympics, there may be a ski tip of truth to it. With the Vancouver Olympics fast approaching, we'd like to report Miller is reciting acts of contrition while negotiating a couch summit with Oprah to explain his boorish behavior in Italy, where he failed to win anything or anybody over --...

For Patrick and Tanner Gudauskas, the dream will be realized surrealistically as they catch their first waves during the Quiksilver Pro at Snapper Rocks on Australia's Gold Coast. Thousands of fans in a natural amphitheater will cheer every surfer's slashing top-turn, cutback and aerial. Giant TV screens will enable even the athletes to glimpse replays as they sprint up the beach to paddle back out after each long ride. "It's pretty much a dream come true; you can't really say anything more than that," Patrick Gudauskas, 24, said of his long-anticipated arrival onto the sport's highest plateau.

Moments after a blissful sexual adventure with his girlfriend, the achingly handsome actor almost always nods right off. "Half the time I fall asleep right after sex," admits the 36-year-old Los Angeles man, who, like others interviewed about their postcoital behavior, asked for anonymity. "I usually fall asleep right on my girlfriend. Then I wake up and we talk." What do people do in the delicious afterglow of sex?

The wind-swept airport on the plains south of this little town is a lot quieter these days. No longer do the small Beech 1900 turboprops of GP Express Airlines roar off toward Denver or Alliance, Neb., twice daily. As of early March, the 6,000 residents here in the arid hills of western Nebraska were erased from the country's aviation map when the company determined that its service made no economic sense, even with large subsidies. Fewer than two people a day, on average, used the service.

Among the blessings of the drought is the opportunity to re-examine and perhaps abandon some old baggage of the War of the West against itself. If the cowboys and irrigation boys lost their way in the desert, where they sought empire and wealth, so did we, the enviros. We share responsibility for the death of the wild, for the death of what was unique and valuable about the West. The environmental organizations courted disaster when they "succeeded," American-style.

On a lonely Tibetan slope, storied mountaineer Rick Ridgeway spotted the blue and yellow of a half-buried climbing suit. He warned the young woman with him to prepare herself. Ridgeway climbed to the ledge, found a grave marker of flat stones and moved a rock. The body of his old friend, Jonathan Wright, was still there. In October 1980, Wright, 28, had broken his neck in an avalanche, plunging 1,500 feet down the icy face of Minya Konka. He died in Ridgeway's arms.

Bill Stanfill, who played defensive end, can't turn his head more than a few inches because of fused vertebrae in his neck. When he puts his car in reverse, he says, "I ease back until I bump into something." Teammate Manny Fernandez, a defensive tackle, has given up tennis, handball, golf and running because of chronic pain in his knees. "I can walk," he says. "That's about it."

Abby Sunderland is bundled in foul-weather gear at the tiller of the 40-foot racing yacht Wild Eyes as it grudgingly navigates chaotic swells on a northward trudge against a bone-chilling head wind along the Baja California coast. But as long hours pass into even worse conditions, there are no complaints from the 16-year-old from Thousand Oaks, who knows this is paradise compared with what she'll soon face much farther from home and in far more turbulent seas. If this has a familiar tone, it's understandable.

Bishop Don Magic Juan smiles--the diamonds and emeralds embedded in his front teeth glittering as he surveys his Los Angeles living room. He is swathed in lime-green leopard print from the hat on his head to the custom shoes on his feet. The Bishop, who rose to iconic stature as a symbol of street success in his Chicago heyday, gave up the life in the mid-80s, after finding Jesus.