Nuggets In The Scree

hitched

2010-07-13T09:39:00.004-07:00

Yep, the rumor is true: I went and got married. It was a great time, up in the mountains with a bunch a friends close at hand. Forgive me for not disclosing more, I am struggling these days with the issue of how much (very) personal information to disclose on the 'net. Sufice it to say I (and we) are very happy and now back in Missoula. We had to stall on our honeymoon for the time being, as work demands are highest in the summer, but we plan on a trip to Central America this fall for a few weeks. Mean time we spent 5 days at the High Sierra Music Festial volunteering in the medical tent in exchange for free passed to the festial. All in all an easy trade and great festival.

You know, considering that we have been dating over 3 years and living together for 6 months, you wouldn't think that a little thing like a wedding would make much difference, but it has. At least the shine hasn't worn off; we still like each other.

Montana!

2010-03-10T09:17:00.002-07:00

Folks ask "so, you from around here?" No. "Got family here?" No. "So...ever been here before at all?" Not really. Passed within a hundred miles of here on the highway a few years back, but the smoke from the wild fires was too thick to see anything and I didn't stop. "So, why are you here?"

And there is the real question. Usually I answer with a pat response: I (we) were looking for a cool mountain town in the west with a trauma center hospital, and ____ was on the short list.

This is true. What you see missing from the above statement however is the name of the town in question. Maybe it is Missoula. But maybe it is Kalispell. Ya see, Risa got a job in the ER of the hospital in Missoula. I had interviewed at the same hospital, and though it had gone well, they simply had no open nursing jobs (Risa took the very last one), and wouldn't for several months. Ok, thought I, I'll look elsewhere. And elsewhere I did look, for every concievable nurse gig within 100 miles, in prisions and jails and schools and retirement homes and clinics and hospitals and summer camps. Nothing...within 100 miles of Missoula.

So, in a moment of curiosity, I expanded my horizions to a town near the edge of Glacier National Park, north of the largest freshwater lake in the western USA, surrounded by mountains and only and hour south of Canadia: Kalispell. And there I found a job, not wiping butts in a nursing home, or bloody noses in a school, but in the ER. A busy, bumpin' ER that handles all the trauma of summer tourists falling of mountains and getting trampled by moose and eaten by grizzly bears. In fact, one of our docs wrote the protocol for post surgical grizzly bear treatment. (that is treatment of humans mauled by bears, we don't actually treat the bears in our hospital...too many uninsured in that population.)

So I get to do what I wanted to do, in a place I love, and so does Risa. The only catch is that those two places are 128 miles apart. So I drive north for my days on, spend 2 or 3 nights a week in Kalispell, and then drive home for my days off. Not the ideal situation, but so far seems quite do-able and not so bad.

By the way, if you are thinking of how you would love to come and visit, but gosh Montana is just so far away, consider that allegiant air has fights into missoula from mesa/phoenix, vegas, and LA for usually under $100 each way (sometimes under $60). So no excuses.

When the earth moves

2010-01-13T18:32:00.002-07:00

If you haven't heard, there was a massive earthquake that demolished the capital of Haiti, Port-au-Prince yesterday afternoon. If you have heard, so don't need me to tell you about the hundreds of thousands feared dead, or the many more homeless and injured.

Those reading this may remember that I worked in Haiti back in 2006 for nearly 2 months (before my own house caught fire and burned up). I still have friends there, and communicate regularly with the folks that are carrying on the human rights work that led me there. At least I did; I have not yet heard from the friends I had living there. I do know that the neighborhood where they lived was hit hard, and nearby buildings were destroyed.

I would like to go back, I would like to think my training as a nurse and EMT would be helpful, but given the utter lack of infrastructure and the fact that my Creole language skills never really advanced beyond mediocrity I think I would be greater burden to the system in the immediate aftermath. Perhaps I can go in a few weeks.

In the meantime I am hoping that my friends are alive and unhurt, and I am sending money, through the organization I worked for and still work with: Human Rights Accompaniment Haiti (HURAH).

I have always hated asking people for money, however in light of the dire circumstances now imposed upon a country already struggling with basic infrastructure and rule of law, I am asking those that read this passage to donate whatever they can afford to help those that help others, on the ground in Haiti day in and day out. If $5 is all you can spare, thank you. If it is more, thanks all the same. If you cannot spare anything (and even if you can), then a prayer would be appreciated.

For background, HURAH is composed entirely of unpaid volunteers (of which I am one, a board member since 2008). Any money recieved will go directly toward the victims of the earthquake. 100%, nothing taken off for overhead or operating expenses. If you like you can read about my time in Haiti in 2006 during the election and working in the jails at www.behindthemountain.blogspot.com .

Otherwise the website where you can donate to HURAH is at: www.hurah-inc.org .
Meci anpil.
(many thanks)

Scoreboard

2009-12-09T23:15:00.002-07:00

115 job applications in 12 states. Actually that should be 114, since one of them was for a nursing assistant job, but then again, I was turned down for that one too. I did get one interview, but there was no job opening associated with that interview, it was more of an "informational chat". Hmm...If I were being paid minimum wage to work on job applications and searches, I might be able to start paying off my student loans. Tell me again about the nursing shortage, will ya?

In other news, we are down to single digits, only 9 days until graduation. So there is happy news. And Risa (aka Sugarmomma) is still gainfully employed. In fact I just went out to visit her for her 30th birthday and we went on a 30 miles (31.5 mile if computer assisted gps is to be believed) hike to celebrate. I celebrated when we finished the hike. Only took 13 hours.

Otherwise all is well: weather is cold, around 10 below right now here in Fort Collins. School/work (meaning clinical rotations) are good, seeing an appropriate balance of weird and mundane injuries and illnessed in the ED to keep me mostly entertained and perpetually learning.

So, if this whole nursing thing doesn't work out, I may wind up back in Kalifornia working as a movie extra and street performer again. But I'll be the most educated juggling clown you ever met!

Seasonal affective disorder

2009-10-02T20:02:00.000-07:00

Winds picked up and the weather turned cold a few days ago. Smelled like firewood chopping weather. Then I had to get back to class; my five minute break was over.

Nearly all of my life has been guided by the seasons: football season, hunting season, trip leading season, fire season, and so on, across jobs and continents, moving in accordance with weather and opportunity. Not this year. From winter through spring, summer, and now fall the season has remained unchanged for me: nursing school. Or perhaps not unchanged, instead unheeded. Rather than move camp I have kept the same scenery and routine in spite of the changing seasons. Trips were still led, fires fought, classes taught, and deployments undertaken, apples picked, firewood chopped, and fish caught, but they were all done by someone else.

I’m not real happy with my current circumstance, thankfully the human organism is infinitely adaptable and capable of surviving most anything for limited periods of time. And this time is limited to only about 10 more weeks. What happens then is anyone’s guess.

Summer Art Project

2009-09-16T18:02:00.017-07:00

Ok, so I got a wild hair and went a little crazy with the sidewalk chalk this summer, leaving notes in public places ranging from profound-ish to jibber-ish. Don't have any idea how many people saw them, as wind and rain usually erased the evidence in a day or so, but it amused me.

A warning of things to come.

The midnight skulker strikes again.

In hindsight, only makes sense if you watched professional wrestling like 10 years ago.

Dedicated to my mentor, Jimmy Buffett.

Thanks to Winnie for the quote.

Feeling a bit ornery that day.

Mmm, delicious grumblecakes...

True.

Tried for a bit of interactive art here, but the next day I came back (front door of the hospital) and it was all erased and the pennys were gone.

So I tried by the school.

Not much response, but better than round one.

Third time's a charm...

Got many more responses but failed to photo them all. Apparently the magic word is pleeze.

Happy Solstice!

2009-06-21T20:00:00.004-07:00

Longest day of the year, means of course that the days are now getting shorter. Winter will soon be upon us. But until then, we can enjoy the sunshine. I did today, excusing myself from the tedium of studying to go exploring down by the river. And what did I find? Probably the prettiest place in all Scottsbluff county, and it wasn't even at the top of the bluff! I will definatly be back to do some fishin' and beer drinkin', down by the river.

In a related story, my latest batch of homebrew, a belgian pale ale, has turned out better than I hoped for, easily the best batch I've ever done, 10x better than my first efforts. Now I can only hope the trend continues; I have a trial batch of a special, secret, ancient brew that I am hoping to make for the wedding, but I figured I should give it a preview to see that it is fit for human consumption. We shall see. If you read my post about the rye bread and balloon animals awhile back, there has been progress on both fronts. I have graduated to silly hats and more sour sourdough.

Myths and facts

2009-05-12T16:14:00.005-07:00

The rumor is true; let me tell you how it all went down

We were 1000 feet below the summit of Longs Peak, perched on a 45 degree snow and ice ramp just below the rock headwall leading to the Loft. The weather, which had been Lousy all morning anyway, was now proceeding beyond Crappy and was well on the way to Scary. So decent was on our mind, even as we climbed higher into the very same wind that was driving ice crystals into our everyplace. Then Risa's crampon came loose from her boot. Perched precariously on the steep slippery white stuff, I down climbed to her position and helped her secure the crampon to the boot. Then finding myself kneeling beside her, I did the next logical thing:

I pulled out a ring and asked her to marry me.

And she said yes.

So we left the mountain to the winds without us, and descended, and spent the rest of the weekend eating Indian and Nepali food, touring the Boulder Meadery, hiking the Front Range, and hitting baseballs around the batting cages. We don't know when the wedding will be, or where (imagine a long time from now, what with school and all), but if you are reading this, you are probably invited. More than anything else, we are agreed it will be a great party.

projects, projects

2009-04-20T20:23:00.003-07:00

Behold, my first balloon animal and my first homemade sourdough rye bread.

Yeah, there is nursing school, but seriously, a fella can only study that stuff for so many hours a day before going crazy.

Let this be a warning to you: crazy may lead you to purple latex dogs and primative northern european bread recipes.

Purple toes and good times...peaks and valleys

2009-03-28T18:53:00.004-07:00

Got back from a wonderful beautiful week out in California with Risa. We went ski touring in Yosemite National Park. Normally a zoo where animals such as bear and deer and chipmunk can observe frantic human behaviors such as trying to reserve the last campsite in the Valley; honking in traffic and running into trees, rivers, various critters with their cars, and yelling obscene things at each other, their kids, the tourists, the rangers, and the bears eating the Doritos they left in the car that the ranger told them to put in the bear locker.

But all of that changes in the mid-week winter, when tourons are at home and only the deranged and winter hardy wander the inaccessible backcountry. Inaccessible that is if you lack skis and stamina. Fortunately, we had both, and were treated to spectacular views and solitude, the latter a rarity under normal circumstances. The 5 day, 4 night, 45 miles ski tour resulted in about 7,000 vertical gain and loss of elevation, and the likely loss of two toe nails. Don’t worry, they don’t hurt too much anymore, though they were a presence during the trip. No frost bite (temps were quite warm actually), just some boots that fit fine for hours at a time during prior use, but when worn days on end decided to declare war on my toes. I call it a draw.

Which gets me thinking. When I got back to Scottsbluff and back in touch with the world left behind, I found news here from distant friends. Gurg’s brother, Luis, died. Mo’s PeaceCorp mission in Madagascar was cut short due to the coup. And Melissa and Jarrett celebrated the birth of their second baby boy. Some good things, some bad things, and some things yet unresolved. I don’t pretend to make light of the tragedy of others, and refer to it here only because those involved have already made it publicly aware. It just seemed like a much larger scale version of bloody toes and grand experience. Like we have to pay the price in suffering for the good times we enjoy. But the price doesn’t always tally evenly, and the balance doesn’t always add up. Some pay more and some pay less. I guess this is just another way of restating the truism that without valleys and canyons there would be no peaks. But I reckon that to be small solace to the ones in the valleys.

One of two toes that look this way.

9 down, 36 to go.

2009-03-12T17:23:00.003-07:00

Haven't had a great deal of time for blogging, but I am now 2 weeks into the second term of nursing school. Spring break starts this weekend, and I'm headed to California to go skiing in Yosemite with Risa. I finally got a new card reader for the only camera (phone) I have (since plunging into a frigid sink hole in a utah canyon with my old camera). So for those of you who don't know much about Scottsbluff, Nebraska, this is the view on my daily bike ride to school.

4 down, 41 weeks to go

2009-02-06T14:20:00.002-07:00

I am now just over halfway though my first semester here at UNMC. Semesters in the accelerated program being only 7 weeks long. Only 41 weeks of school left until graduation. Not that there is anything wrong with being in school, but it is a fairly intense program and we (classmates and I) are all fairly goal oriented here with the big picture in mind.

The accelerated, intense nature of the program generally keeps us busy; this week with three big tests to study for there was a point when I had more poly-syllabic medical terms rattling around inside my head than I could easily contain, some would slip out at odd moments. Like getting groceries and walking down the aisle and words like "propanolol" and "succinolcholine" would just randomly blurt out, like someone with Turret's syndrome, only instead of curse words they were pharmacology terms. This is what happens when you cram too much info inside too little space too quickley. It leaks all over innocent bystanders.

The good news is that I feel like I am finally starting to learn something, which is good considering how much I'm paying to be here, it would be nice to learn a little bit. And now I am, and even being challenged a wee little bit, so I'm happy about that.

But I'll be happier in 41 weeks.

New Begining

2009-01-14T11:10:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow I start nursing school. Eleven months of intensity leading to a new career (arguably my first career) as a nurse of some kind or another. RN BSN. More letters to put behind my name, to go along with the others already there like EMT, WFR, BLS, and AWLS. They said during orientation that if you drop your pencil while taking notes in class, don’t stop to pick it up off the floor or you’ll be two weeks behind when you sit up again. So this should be interesting, being a student again.

I am moved into my new apartment, 2 bedrooms is more than I need by myself, but they didn’t have any vacancy in 1 bedrooms when I called. Being finally situalted, it is an interesting scene. On one hand, the layout and décor is more mature and less cluttered than ever before. On the other hand, my frugality and lack of income here means I have aquired my grandparents couch and recliner, and my book case is two boards and five milk crates. Still, the place is starting to feel homey.

Now, time for goals (not resolutions) for this year. Actually the time for this was 9 days ago, on January 2nd, but I didn’t have them worked out yet, though I did mark the day. I tried to look back at 2008, but couldn’t find any record of goals made last January. This is both odd and reassuring; odd that I didn’t set any, reassuring since I didn’t remember them anyway. As for 2009, the following:
- Do 100 pushups every day
- Complete a crossword puzzle (lifetime goal is the New York Times Sunday edition, but we’ll work up to that one.
- Be able to play one song on the guitar well enough that it is recognizable as music
- Solve the rubix cube from memory alone (best time of 3 minutes 11 seconds still requires the use of notes for one step)
- Learn to tie a tie
- Learn to make gravy
Too ambitious? I hope not. I’ve been successful at the pushups since mid-October. Started fooling with the guitar back around the same time, and am nearly there on the rubix cube. So not as ambitious as it looks. Once I get started setting goals though, it is hard to stop. So maybe one more: become a licensed nurse.

Letting go

2009-01-10T08:07:00.000-07:00

Left Los Angeles a little over a week ago. I don’t really consider that to be a “letting go” however, since I wasn’t really holding on to it. Sure, some aspects were fun, and contrary to the myth, there are in fact 3 or 4 cool people there. I’ll miss the incredible selection at grocery stores (literally almost any ingredient you can imagine was available within about 15 miles radius), and the funky ethnic neighborhoods and restaurants (Brazilian, Thai, Armenian, Sri Lankan, Iranian, Russian, etc), and the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica where I watched the performers and tried to perform myself before being booted out. But that is about it.

The real letting go involved things much closer to my heart. First, last, and most places in between: Risa. 11 months is a long time apart, though the perpetual optimist is angling for monthly rendezvous. I suppose we’ll get through it alright, with phone calls and letters (many, many letters) and the occasional visit. In fact I’m pretty sure we’ll get through it, since the first 6 months where we really got to know each other, I was on the other side of the planet exchanging letters.

Second was my program at NAU, my baby that I inherited as a premature newborn ready to die on the vine that I worked and sweated to develop into a national leader in Wilderness Medicine. In fact, to facilitate the hand off to the fellow that is taking over my job as coordinator and manager, I went back to Flagstaff to help teach the first 4 days of the latest class and ease the transition. As class was ending on my last day, we were reviewing homework and the day’s lesson, and I paused, for a moment longer than usual. They were leaning forward, anticipating some important insight about cardiac assessment in the wilderness, but no insight was forthcoming. I was just soaking it in, the sight and feeling of what may very well be my last experience for a long time standing at that end of a classroom. So I’ve got that mental snapshot to carry with me for awhile.

Lastly, it was Flagstaff, my home, and all the friends I’m leaving behind. As one who grew up on the move, Flagstaff was the first home I chose, the first place I voluntarily came back to after every adventure and excursion. This time however it is for longer than ever before, and even an eventual return is an uncertainty. I temper my feelings of loss and letting go with the thought that I am likely to return, likely to teach again, and will see my girl again before too long (though it will be too long). And I think of the words my friend Mattie used when she left Flagstaff, when asked why and wherefore, she responded: “to conquer new territory.”

another dream come true

2008-12-30T16:34:00.001-07:00

As an hourly rate, you might say I did pretty good. $2 for no more than 5 minutes of actual juggling. What would that be, about $24/hr? Heck, that might be my bet paying gig ever! Or rather, it might have been had I been allowed to continue. Yes, I made my first dedicated foray into the world of street performing. Many of you may be aware I have long harbored a desire to be a street performer, indeed the prospect of being flat broke while traveling and juggling on a street corner to earn bus fare to the next town has always appealed to me, and these ideas are what drove me first to learn how to juggle, then spin fire poi, unicycle, and now stilt walk.

I had been thinking that LA was a good place to give this dream a whirl, since there are places where street performers work regularly here (Venice Beach, 3rd St promenade, and Santa Monica Pier, to name a few) and I didn’t have anything resembling normal, regular employment. The first thought was a bicycle powered blender, from which I would produce smoothies to sell. While I did build a functional prototype bike blender, I was never satisfied with its performance in chopping ice to commercial smoothie standards. So I figured I could unicycle and juggle, but the permitting authorities here do not allow cycling in any form as part of an act, regardless of the number of wheels. So I had a brilliant idea: stilt walking! Nobody here was doing it, and they gave me a permit for it where as they wouldn’t for unicycles and spinning fire. So I thought I was one my way. First thought, I need some stilts! And maybe some practice using them.

Ebay and a few sessions in the street in front of the house solved both those concerns and so last weekend I made my way to 3rd street promenade, ready to give this thing a go. I had my stilts, some incredibly long homemade pants to wear over the stilts, a felt hat to take tips in, my permit, and one each of a stuffed donkey, penguin, and dinosaur (stegosaurus). I thought I was ready. I got smiles and waves and pictured taken as I walked the 2 blocks from my truck to the promenade, and had no sooner begun my act of juggling the aforementioned animals than 1) two little kids ran up and put a dollar each into my hat and 2) a guy with a clip board and a badge told me I was not allowed to perform in that spot since it was a fire lane access area. Ok, so I moved to an appropriately sanctioned spot and began again, and in a matter of seconds, a bike cop pulls up, looks over my permit, and tells me that stilting is not allowed. I tell her in my most soothing voice that it is explicitly written on my permit application, which her department approved. She spent the next few minutes radioing various persons who explained that my permit information had been lost, meanwhile I was discovering how hard it is to pick up a dropped stuffed penguin when you are standing nearly to feet high. After much discussion as polite as I could make, she shut me down. City hall agrees with my position but refuses to issue a refund, so for the time being, I am stuck. Too bad, there were swarms of tourists out this weekend, warm as it was, and I was the only stilter for miles. Could have made a killing. Instead I got a cup of coffee and went home, resolved to work on my guitar playing and slack line walking.

Escape from LA

2008-12-13T23:47:00.004-07:00

Well, I haven't actually escaped yet, but I did get out on furlough for a bit. I had hoped to put up a photo of a sweet slot canyon Risa and I ran in Zion National Park, but near the bottom of the canyon I rapelled into a pool of water that I am fairly certain has no bottom (at least I couldn't find it no matter how far down I sank...) and in the course of scrambling/swimming/cussing my way out of the water and up a slickrock ramp, the camera in my pocket was, shall we say damaged. None the less it was a sweet canyon and a gorgeous few days in Zion. Then it was back to LA and then up to Northern California for a week. Visiting friends, hot springs, and some scrambling in the Sierras, and now back in LA, until the end of the month.

who is that master of disguise?

2008-11-16T18:21:00.007-07:00

Alabama State Trooper by night...

...Army weapons specialist by day...

...corporate insurance agent when the mood strikes, or anything else in between.

And now for something completely unrelated...

...sure glad the LAPD has my best interests at heart, to protect me from...

...are you f-ing kidding me?! What they should really be protecting us from is...

...candy marshmellow french fries and candy gel ketchup. And look, its low in sodium and cholesterol free, so you know it's good for you.

When in Rome, do as the Romans

2008-11-11T21:19:00.002-07:00

And when in LA, work in show buisness, glue a cell phone to your ear, and take your life in hand every day on the highway.

So that is what I do now...sorta. What I mean to say, is that I am now working as a background actor (glorified term for extra) on all your favorite tv shows. Well, not on the Simpsons, turns out they need suprisingly few extras on cartoons. But Criminal Minds, CSI: New York, Cold Case, and My Own Worst Enemy, all these I have been on, as state troopers, lawyers, marathon runners, news crewman, and trendy New York club-goer. It is a good thing I am background only, as I have no concept whatsoever as to how a trendy New York club-goer is to act, but all I had to do was sit at a bar and pretend to drink and talk to the guy next to me while pretty girls jiggled on tables and the real actors conducted their buisness on the other side of the room. Could it be that this is all there is to trendy? So the work (if you can call standing around pretending to talk and gesturing silently work) is monotous, the pay is low, but the food is pretty good on most of these sets.

In other news, I got a permit from City Hall to juggle, play the guitar poorly, and tell bad jokes on street corners in Santa Monica. Now I just gotta polish my material a bit. And wait for the stilts to arrive. Yep, stilts. They wouldn't let me unicycle as part of my permit, but they said nothing about stilts, so I got some off ebay, should be here in a few days. So we'll see what happens on that front.

proof

2008-10-28T20:34:00.002-07:00

7th Circle of Somewhere Hot

2008-10-28T09:07:00.002-07:00

Having now spent a week in the belly of the beast, I find it's not so bad in here. No worse than Phoenix I'd say. I am of course refering to LA, that legendary home for all that is weird, liberal, polluted, stoned, misguided or currupt, according to the teachings of my youth. Not that those teachings were too far off... I've seen some weird shit here. But maybe my tolerance threshold for weird shit has increased over the years.

So what have I been doing in the almost exactly one week I've been here?
I took a long bike ride down the coast, along the beach.
I solved the rubix cube for the first time, in 28 minutes (after futsing about with it for a week).
I applied for work at 4 different used book stores.
I went to a bar to listen to some stand-up comedy with Risa, where her bike was stolen.
I nearly bought a sailboat.
and...
I registered with a casting company to be an extra on movies, commercials, and tv shows.
And so much more.

What will next week bring?

Echos of an empty house

2008-10-15T17:21:00.002-07:00

You can hear a mouse fart in the kithen from the back bedrooms. These new wood floors, combined with an utter lack of furniture or decorations to absorb the sound make the house echo like never before. That and the voices of memories of so many people these last 5 years. When the finality hits people that the house and I are going, they feel as obliged to say good by to the house as to me. I don't mind, we had good times, and a whole lotta people stayed under this roof, and I am glad of that. But while I am as aware of this past as much as any one (and more so than most) I am not teary eyed to go. My relationship with the place has changed as I've tried to sell it (I've put more work into it planning to not live in it than I ever did before) and I'm kinda done with it. Over it. Ready to go. In my mind, once I made up my mind to go, I was already gone. All that's left is the details. Well now many of them are settled, and all I own is either in storage in Nebraska or loaded into the back of my truck, and in the morning I hit the road. No, the house isn't sold yet, but I'll give it a couple more weeks yet. Then come back for a weekend to sign papers giving control to someone other than me. And then I'm gone for good. So how about a highlight reel, for those readers who were there for some of the aformentioned good times:

The going away party for Mattie and I, goose slaughter, rabbitt bbq, good time.

Halloween party where I was spinning fire poi and lit myself on fire.

Ice luge party.

Matt Shaw's drinking pants and claim to beat Duck Hunt.

The Fire.

The last party with the original roomates, Me, Mel, Nic and Nick, toasting in the kitchen.

Elliot making fire in the lving room with a bow drill.

Baking bread all winter to stay warm.

Hanging in the kitchen.

Coming home to find the floor covered in newspaper, like a hamsters cage.

Garage sales, loading up the neighborhood kids with junk for nickels.

Open doors, no keys, and a welcome place for the dozens, neigh hundreds, of random and less than random people who stayed for one night, or 5 years.

Thanks for the memories.

Investing in Karma

2008-09-17T20:51:00.001-07:00

So plans, sometimes they change. Like for example you might be planning on spending 2 and half months luxuriating at the South Pole, shoveling snow and moving heavy things from one place to another, unicycling around the world in your spare time, when…boom, the next thing you know you are living in a tiki hit on Venice beach, selling smoothies to tourists from a bicycle powered blender. I mean, the smoothies from the blender, the tourists, they are from all over tarnation. This is all purely hypothetical of course.

Except for the part where the south pole gig fell through. That is real. And the bike powered blender, that hasn’t happened yet either, although I do have a blender and a bike and a hankering for some smoothies…

Oh yeah, the title “Investing in Karma.” Well, I went out to visit Risa in California a week ago, and it was while there I learned about the failure to launch of the South Pole plan, so I began casting about for ideas for what to do with myself. Among them, learn how to sail, learn to play guitar and play for change on a street corner, build a bike powered blender and sell smoothies and biscotti to tourists, unicycle and juggle and spin fire for tips, and go live with Risa in California. Can you guess which I chose? If you guessed all of ‘em, you’re a winner! So I spent an afternoon watching street performers in LA, tipping generously and learning as much as possible from them, and the many cops, hustlers, vendors, etc that I talked to. That was the investing in karma part.

Don’t worry, I’m still planning on starting nursing school in January, this is all just in the meantime. Now I just gotta sell my house and learn to play the guitar.

Back...to the future!

2008-08-23T18:42:00.002-07:00

Item one:
Out of the field. Yep, another great NOLS course with a good bunch of students whose minds are now ever so slightly warped toward a more responsible, thoughtful way of life. Caught big fish; the token vegetarian student caught the biggest fish, killed it and cooked it and ate it, and is now a card carrying meat eater, partaking of a deep fried cheese burger on out return.

Item two:
Went to California to see Risa, she is working there as a nurse in the emergency department. Not easy, working in the ED, nor living so far from me... Going to be a difficult year or so to come being apart. I envision many frequent flyer miles being racked up.

Item three:
Back in Flagstaff. And moving out. I plan to be working at the South Pole for Raytheon Global Domination Inc, as a General Assistant (low paid slave) in October, and then living and going to school in Nebraska at UNMC for a year starting in January, to get my nursing degree. All this
means that I'm leaving Flagstaff, for more than the usual 3-6 months of every year. And that means:

Item four:
HOUSE FOR SALE!!
I'm selling my place in Flagstaff, or at least trying to (will rent it out if I can't get a tolerable price). So I've been busy, trying to get this shanty shack into selling shape. I've stained the back porch, replaced the front step, fixed the bathroom door knob, hardwired the sump pump, painted the front door, installed 500 sq ft of wood laminate flooring, and pulled about 247 pounds of horse weeds from the backyard. Today was the annual garage sale, and while I made about $35 for my efforts, more importantly I got rid of LOTS of stuff, especially to this one gal that pulled up and asked about the bookcase I had marked as free. Well by the time she left she hadn't paid a cent but I had managed to load a bookcase, three boxes of books, a desk chair, and assorted other furnishings, decorations, and dust collectors into the back of her rig. Saved me a trip to the dump/Goodwill. She thinks I was doing her a favor, but I'd have paid her to have that junk hauled away.

So that is the news from here. Coming up soon: Demolition Derby! Yep, the Coconino County Fair soon come...

Good music, bad feet, long miles

2008-07-08T19:40:00.003-07:00

This is Risa and I working the medical tent at the High Sierra Music Festival in Quincy, CA. Lots of blisters and cracked feet, sunburns and dust in the eye, and more music than you can shake your eardrums at. 5 stages, 4 days, 16 hours each day. Intense.

Now I'm in Lander, WY and about to head into the field for a 30 day wilderness backpacking trip for NOLS. So no new blogs until mid august. Sorry. Go take a hike, or read a book, or read a book while taking a hike.

Design Failure

2008-06-26T12:50:00.004-07:00

Apparently Nissan didn't have us in mind when they designed the engine to my truck. After our third attempt at cooking on the engine block during this road trip, I have several theories as to why it is not working, most of which center on a lack of sufficient heat. But not time, oh no! We gave these brownies about 8-9 hours, with little to show for it other than warm brownie goop. Turns out that 9 hours at 130 degrees is not the same as 35 minutes at 350 degrees. I haven't given up yet, but this whole experiment in cooking while driving has proven more difficult than I had imagined.

A new land speed record?

2008-06-21T15:50:00.002-07:00

Zombies, Unicycles, and a Road Trip

2008-05-29T10:06:00.004-07:00

So there was a bar-b-que at my place last weekend, when a strange coincidence presented itself: a zombie creator and zombie hunter found them selves face to face over bbq-ed pork loin and rhubarb pie. Wait, I had better back up a bit and explain, and in the course of the explanation, I will attempt to use as many exact quotes from the exchange as possible.

Claire works in a lab at the university synthesizing a compound used in research to help fight HIV/AIDS. Sounds harmless enough. Except that it does so by “breaking triple bonded molecules.” For those unfamiliar with organic chemistry, that is pretty impressive, and pretty difficult, and when asked how it does this, she said “we don’t really know.” Then Gurg astutely pointed out, “hey, aren’t we made of molecules?” This would be of only slight concern, until Claire casually mentioned that some of the substance had escaped its quarantine area and jumped across the lab and was now actively destroying other molecules in the lab. And it had mutated. This is where the zombie hunter’s ears really perked up. Further questions reveled that the compound, while not alive, is almost exactly like a protein, but isn’t quite. Almost alive but not quite? Makes it hard to kill, yes? So that led of course to the question of how you kill something not alive, you know just in case it shows even more talent for escape and begins to wreak its havoc outside the lab. Since it is not a protein, heat does not kill it. I say again, it is impervious to fire. Same with cold, and chain saws, shotguns, and wooden stakes if I understand correctly. Dimethylsulferic acid seems to work, according to the creator. As does oxygen. Which is why it is kept under nitrogen, except that it has already managed to outmaneuver that one, when it escaped to the other side of the lab. Oh, and where do you acquire some of this dimethylsulferic acid? In the same lab that “contains” the zombie. Is this beginning to sound familiar? To reach the antidote you must return to the lair of the creation. Hmm…what else? When asked is the compound had ever been exposed to living cells rather than just organic molecules, the creator responded “only mine.” Excuse me?? A carrier?? In our midst?? We all drew back a bit as we pressed her for details, convinced now that an outbreak was imminent and that we would be the last hope for mankind, knowing the details and weaknesses of this abomination. So let’s recap: we have a chemical compound that, while rare in nature has now been artificially synthesized in greater quantities than ever intended and was mutated in the process. The purpose of this compound is to break apart organic molecules strongest bonds. It cannot be killed by fire or heat, has already escaped its “controlled” lab environment and is destroying neighboring specimens in the lab, and the only living cells it has ever interacted with are those of its creator. And the antidote is in the lab. We have the makings of a darn good zombie movies on our hands here.

Except then she let slip a couple of key facts that allowed us to forgive her crimes against nature, for now…first, in addition to being killed by dimethylsulferic acid, it is also killed by water. And it is not self replicating, that is the only stuff there is in the world is the stuff in their lab, and it can’t reproduce. Yet.

In other news, I bought a unicycle and have been teaching myself to ride it. Turned out to be a good way to get to know the neighbors, as they see me out in the street practicing and are always glad to comment on my progress, and proximity of my crashed to their cars.

Lastly, Risa and I are gone for a road trip this summer. First, Lake Powell, then Moab, Salt Lake, Nebraska, northern California, Wyoming, Iceland, and home by early September. Or so goes the plan. With regular unicycle breaks every 100 miles to breakup the driving monotony.

The Creator.

The Zombie Hunter.

The Hope for Mankind, currently on vacation road tripping through northern Utah.

Spring Time

2008-04-10T21:08:00.003-07:00

It is spring in the mountains. Spring, where it might be short sleeves and sunshine one day and blowing snow the next. Where the gooseberries and ruhbarb are emerging from winter burial and snowbanks persist in shady, north facing alcoves. We were skiing up on the mountain up until a few days ago, and working on the garden in the same week. And did I mention the gooseberries? I am really excited because only this afternoon while weeding around the ruhbarb (reliable performer that it is) I saw that both the gooseberry and rasberry I planted last fall survived the winter and are showing new growth, when I had thought them dead beyond salvation.

In other spring related activity, I taught a Wilderness First Responder class over NAU's spring break, on the San Juan river. We rafted the upper section of the San Juan, in southern Utah, over 9 days while learning about trauma, medical, and envirnmental emergencies in the wilderness. The class was a huge success, if a lot of work. The following weekend Risa and I borrowed a canoe and ran the Little Colorado River, from Grand Falls (pictured) to Cameron, about 40 miles distant. Part of what made this so cool, in addition to navigating steep class 2+ rapids in an open top canoe fully loaded with camping gear, is that 10 months of the year the river is nearly dry, only a tiny trickle of mud and quicksand through this stretch. But spring snow melt gives a window of incredible views at Grand Falls and good canoeing down the river.

Oh, a further paradox of spring in the mountains? I am teaching an intro to mountaineering class in a week and expect to be snow camping and using crampons and ice axe to mauever up Engineer Mountain in Colorado.

In other spring related activity, I taught a Wilderness First Responder class over NAU's spring break, on the San Juan river. We rafted the upper section of the San Juan, in southern Utah, over 9 days while learning about trauma, medical, and envirnmental emergencies in the wilderness. The class was a huge success, if a lot of work. The following weekend Risa and I borrowed a canoe and ran the Little Colorado River, from Grand Falls (pictured) to Cameron, about 40 miles distant. Part of what made this so cool, in addition to navigating steep class 2+ rapids in an open top canoe fully loaded with camping gear, is that 10 months of the year the river is nearly dry, only a tiny trickle of mud and quicksand through this stretch. But spring snow melt gives a window of incredible views at Grand Falls and good canoeing down the river.

Oh, a further paradox of spring in the mountains? I am teaching an intro to mountaineering class in a week and expect to be snow camping and using crampons and ice axe to mauever up Engineer Mountain in Colorado.

Gypsy in the Palace or A Guerilla Assault on the Ivory Towers

2008-03-09T21:31:00.004-07:00

Touring backcountry in my Level One Avalanche training.

Digging a snow pit to look at layers in avalanche forecasting.

I was up in Park City, Utah last week, attending a medical conference. Let me explain, this was no stuffy, suit and tie, holier than thou sort of medical conference, rather it was all about mountain and wilderness medicine. So while there were doctors, nurses, Pa’s, and the like swarming the place, they were tanned, unshaven, and had just returned from an expedition to Tajikistan, or some such other far flung destination. Indeed, the world’s foremost experts on high altitude medicine and avalanche rescue were there, as well as famous doctors and researchers from other disciplines within the realm of wilderness medicine: ophthalmologists, disaster medicine, thoracic surgeons, and the man with the most summits of Mt Everest in the world, Apa Sherpa. He was part of a slideshow about a Himalayan expedition, and I got to talk with him and meet him afterward, even got his autograph. It was surreal, like meeting a rock star, me and a few others hanging around after the show trying to figure out a way to say hello and meet a legend.

Then there were others; the anesthesiologist from Cleveland, the pediatrician from Delaware, and so on. People with some, or maybe no wilderness experience but think it is cool anyway. And the ones who don’t really care at all but merely need to attend some sort of continuing education seminar to maintain their license and sign in and then hit the slopes all day, writing the whole thing off on their taxes or getting the company to pay for it. This is where I came in; I was assisting teaching an Advanced Wilderness Life Support class at the end of the conference to these aspiring wilderness medicos. And let me tell you, it was intimidating at first, facing down a room full of ER docs, nurse practioners, and others with years of experience in hands on patient care. Until I realized, they don’t know what they are doing in the woods without a team of nurses to back them up, a pile of gadgets and gizmos, a lab full of tests, and an EMT to pre-package and hand deliver their patients. So when I found out I knew more about patient assessment and packaging in the wild outside places, I loosened up a bit. Truth be told, I’d rather have some of my Wilderness First Responder students treat me if I ever get hurt out there than these supposed experts, they were straight out killing people when we started with scenarios.

But, I can hear you ask, where is the Gypsy Guerilla? Sleeping in his truck and cooking on a coleman stove in the parking lot of a Utah ski resort that charges $300 and up per night for a room. Yep, rather than fork over the equivalent of a months rent or a plane ticket to Toronto every night, I stayed in my truck, nice and cozy in a quality sleeping bag (that incidentally cost less than a single night’s stay at the resort when I bought it), and came in the mornings to eat the continental breakfast and attend the lectures and workshops. The night of the banquet, which cost $39, I just hung out for an hour until near the end, then I walked in like I owned the joint, grabbed a plate of food, and sat down making conversation with a dentist from Louisiana. Nobody was the wiser and food that would have gone to waste instead went to my belly.

Well, I’m back now, I learned a lot, met some legends, picked the brains of the experts, taught a couple classes, and was invited on a couple expeditions. Unfortunately the one to Mt Rainier that is a medical research expedition by the University of New Mexico conflicts with my annual NOLS course, but it was nice to be asked. Seems like if you are interested, you could attend these conferences and make contacts for some cool jobs and expeditions all over the world. Note to self…

Addendum

2008-02-03T14:28:00.000-07:00

I forgot to add these pictures to the earlier post about my adventures in the big city. The first is the screen I was confronted with when I tried to purchase a subway ticket in LA. The second is a short list of all the prohibited activities in said subway. Given the incredible numbers of foriegn travelers who pass through LA, and the fact that I (a native speaker of ingles) was stupified by the subway ticket purchase process, I can only call it a miracle that any one ever makes it out of the airport.

Big Cities for Dummies

2008-01-04T21:20:00.000-07:00

Phoenix vs Los Angeles.

That is what it came down to, not which city is better, so much as which city is less awfull. Before these last few weeks I had my well cherished, highly biased, and certainly ignorant opinions. Then I was confronted with stark reality and a lovely tour guide. So what following are my findings, following nearly 7 years of living in the Valley of the Sun and less than 2 weeks in the City of Angeles.

Traffic: LA is worse, by a long shot. In the way that the rest of the world keeps an eye on the weather and makes plans accordingly, LA folks do this with traffic, a force of nature not to be toyed with. I mean really, do you want to spend 2 1/4 hours in traffic to travel 35 miles?

Food: Phoenix is worse. In LA I could wander down the street and find Thai food, Greek food, Korean food, Indian food, Armenian food, and more. I don't even know what Armenian food is, but I can find it and much more there. In Phoenix there is alot of very good Mexican food, lots of taco joints, some New Mexican food, and plenty of Southwestern and West-Mex food.

People: LA is worse. Even though every one I met was a seemingly nice person, the overwhelming majority have a New York sydrome of gazing at their navel and believing it to be the center or the universe. Unfortuntaly, it seems like most folks in Phoenix are just California transplants, but at least they got out.

Character: Phoenix is worse. This one suprised me, I thought that because Phoenix is a sea of cookie cutter subdivisons, strip malls with chain resturants and shops, and endless beige, that LA would be the same. Wrong. LA has actual neighborhoods with locally owned independant buisnesses and houses that didn't all come from the same 3 floor plans.

Impact on the world at large: Draw. LA is the home of Hollywood and many network TV shows, and the drivel and mind numbing rot that comes with it. On the other hand Phoenix has hundreds of green manicured golf courses in the middle of a desert.

Final tally: Both citys disqualified on the grounds that they are not entities unto themselves but rather single cities surrounded by scores of other cityies like Scottsdale, Tempe, Glendale, Mesa, Burbank, Pasedena, Venice, and so on. Instead, stay the heck out of both of them if at all possible, but if you have to go for some reason, such as that is where your girlfriend's parents live or you have friends and a major airport there, then at least you can enjoy the food.

Not Submitting

2007-12-28T14:00:00.000-07:00

Have you ever taken an online class? I'm taking microbiology online right now through a community college in Phoenix. Once a week I have to turn in an assortment of essays, quizzes, and projects through the class website. Having just finished turning in (notice the verb choice) one such essay, I was met with the following pop-up message: "Thank you for your submission. You may now close your browser window." Perhaps I am feeling a bit feisty because I am sitting in an airport along with so many other cattle... I mean people, but I AM NOT SUBMITTING! I am not subdued, you have not forced my submission, I am not an enemy to be vanquished, but if you want to go that route, let me repeat my earlier statement: I AM NOT SUBMITTING! Thank you very much for your easy and convenient online format for conveying the knowledge of microbiology, but perhaps rather than this adversarial relationship we can work together; you give me knowledge (and perhaps more importantly the documentation to prove it to other people/schools/employers) and I'll give you money. Not submission. And why the domineering tone of voice in the second sentence: "You may now close your browser window." By golly I'll close it any time I darn well feel like it, you know why? 'Cuz I AM NOT SUBMITTING!

Whew, ok, that felt nice. So why am I taking microbiology you may ask? Well, I suppose one reason is that there is still more in this world I don't know that I do know, so as long as that fact remains it is likely I'll be in school trying to correct that imbalance. For another reason, there is a better than average chance I'll be applying to nursing school in the spring, and for some reason they want you to know about germs and stuff if you are going to be a nurse.

Hah, and I bet you were expecting some sort of holiday/christmas themed post.

Commuting to work

2007-12-11T21:10:00.000-07:00

This was my commute to work this morning. About a foot of new snow meant a chance to ski to work, strapping on in the drive way and skiing the entire way to the front steps of the Rec Center, where I work on campus, about 2 miles, half of that through the forest across from my house.

Got my butt kicked

2007-11-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

Every so often it is a good thing to have your ass kicked. My "boot" of choice this last weekend was a 100 mile bike ride around Canyon de Chelly National Monument. We (my lady friend and I) rode 45 miles the first day, gaining abuot 2,000 feet in elevation over 25 miles on dirt roads and another 20 miles on pavement. Camping out that night (we had panniers with camping gear on our bikes) was a bit chilly, snow on the ground, about 15 degrees. Next day was about 58 miles, all on pavement (thankfully). Not bad for my first bike touring experiance, and beatiful country, but ohhh, my aching crotch... Still, it was worth it.

Hmm, since I am doing this at work (it's ok, it is my lunch break) maybe I'll show you what I've been up to....HERE!

100 Miles an hour in every direction

2007-10-28T21:01:00.000-07:00

Well, not every direction, but several at least.

Went back the the ranch for Fall Branding a few weekends ago. It gets capitol letters because rather than a chore, it is an event for which we are known. This year proved no exception, as we danced and drank homemade schnapps and shot clay pigeons in the yard, drove the dune buggy, at roast beef, drank beer, roasted marchmellows, and generally had a grand time. Oh yeah, we also rounded up, branded, vaccinated, ear marked, and castrated over a hundred calves. But really that was just the excuse to have a party and invite the neighbors.

Well, the following weekend it was off to Joshua Tree National Park for a music festival with Risa. We volunteered in the medical tent and checking wrist bands, 6 hours each, so we got to get in for free and camp with the artists and workers backstage, and we helped set up the stage and sound system the night before, which was sweeeeet. And the music, wow, stuff like I ain't never heard before. One band in particular, the Carolina Chocolate Drops played everything from the fiddle and lead banjo, to guitar, whiskey jugs, spoons, and mouth harp. And boy did they ever play, and put an a real performance. The weird part was, while watching their set, I kept thinking about how familiar the guy on fiddle was, until I heard his name and realized he lived two doors down from me my first two years in college. Funny thing is, I remember him playing the guitar and harmonica back then, but he wasn't really all that good. Well, times changed.

This weekend was the night scenario for the wilderness medical class I've been teaching, we again simulated a plane crash with 10 victims ranging from evisceration to burned airways, puking head injuries to amputated feet. The students performed well and a good time was had by all.

We should all look so good when our guts are hanging out!

Tour de Fat

2007-10-07T18:56:00.001-07:00

There are a few events that truly define Flagstaff. The Flag Mountain Film Festival, the county fair and demolition derby, the pine cone drop on New Years, and salsa dancing on Heritage Square. But none is more quintessential that the Tour de Fat, or Fat Tire Fest as it's known by the locals.

It's about bikes, it's about beer, it's about costumes and a bike parade and drinking in the afternoon while riding in a bike rodeo and watching unicycle jousting and dancing to half a dozen bands.

Sponsored by the New Belgium Brewery of Fort Collins, Colorado, the Tour visits a couple dozen cities in the western US, concluding with a run through Arizona, and that means Flagstaff. For the last who knows how many years, Flagstaff has led every city in the Tour in beer consumption, costume wearing, bike fanatasism, and general debauchery. This year was no exception, as Flagstaff drank over 196 kegs of beer in an afternoon in the park, and saw well over a thousand people/bikes in the parade. Incidently this far outpaces any other city in the Tour, including their home town of Fort Collins. Makes me proud to be from Flag.

Put down the pint glass long enough to take a spin on some of the bikes in the bike rodeo.

Parade registration.

Notice the keg cycle in the left corner. Riding in style, if not with speed.

Suprise

2007-09-28T19:32:00.000-07:00

There were plenty of things I noticed in the days leading up. Things that were odd, out of place, or didn't add up. But by themselves none was noteworthy enough to give a second thought. I'd like to say I knew it all along. Or that I saw it coming a mile away. Or even that the thought had stumbled across my mind at some point. But I can't. I was standing in the living room of my friend's house, with a cake, banners, and ballooons all within view asking what it was we were doing here when we were supposed to be going for a hike and a bike ride. But I think my density is forgivable; it was after all my first suprise birthday party.

So now older (26) and wiser (so that's were my missing ruhbarb went, it's in the cake!), I am coming better to terms with this stationary, not sedantary life. Work is good. Teaching a class that is going good. Dating a really cool gal, which is good too. And I'm solving the problem of sitting at a desk too much by training for a marathon and outfitting my bike with a rack, panniers, and a spiffy New Belgium Brewery bell that my gal gave me for my birthday. I'm still avoiding the travel literature section of my bookshelves, for fear of temptation, and last night I dreamed I was going back to Antarctica, but I'm also enjoying all that Flagstaff has to offer those who stay put.

grindstone anatomy

2007-09-12T21:41:00.000-07:00

Riding my bike home tonight I realized that the problem seems to that I've been sitting down too much lately. I've never really worked at a job that involved me sitting before. Now I drive a desk, and while piloting it seemed a novelty at first, it is now causing me to question...stuff. That and sitting through 2 and a half hour anatamoy lessons twice a week and the associated out of class readings and writings and studyings all means more time spent on my posterior gluteaus maximus. But it would be hasty to leap to any conclusions yet, having been home only about 3 weeks since my last excursion, so I'll stick it out, keep the ear to the grind stone, as they say.

And go climbing on the weekends.

A good way to christen a new climbing rope

2007-08-24T20:15:00.000-07:00

Above the second rappel decending Grand Teton

It occurs to me that the title to my prior post about being out of the hills is perhaps the least accurate post title I have ever written. I have been no where if not in the hills these last few weeks. Well, perhaps the truck...

I spent a week in the Sandhills of western Nebraska visiting the family on the ranch. Then I drove to Montana for the aformentioned conference of diabetic mountaineers, where I learned alot. But I drove through North Dakota to get there, so it took awhile. Highpoint number 20 was White Butte, out in a cow pasture in southwestern North Dakota. If you can even make such a distinction with a straight face.

I got to examine new technology on the market for insulin delevery and blood glucose monitoring, and associate with other mountain sport enthusiasts from 6 differant countries and hear stories and see pictures and go hiking and climbing.

Then it was off to Utah, via north western Montana and Idaho, first to visit a friend from the Ice, and then to climb Borah Peak, the high point in Idaho, number 21.

In Ogden met Risa and we went off and spent a few days in the Wind River Range in Wyoming fly fishing. Then it was up to Grand Teton National Park to have a go at climbing the Grand. Proud to say we summitted in good style, and then drove like mad fools to get back home in time for her to get to work and me to register for classes this fall. Yep, in addition to working for NAU I'm planning on taking a couple of classes to keep the ol' noggin in working condition until I figure out where next to point it.

The highest point in North Dakota, about 3,600 feet above sea level.

Borah Peak, high point of Idaho, about 12,000 feet above sea level.

The redneck-diabetic cyborg. Me hooked up to an insulin pump and continous readout blood glucose meter. And lots of duct tape to get it to stick to my hairy body.

High above Middle Teton Glacier, while climbing the Grand.

Out of the hills

2007-08-06T12:07:00.000-07:00

Am out of the mountains, another successful NOLS course on the books. Lost one student to an unstable knee injury, the other eleven had great outcomes. We climbed and hiked and fished and hiked some more, summiting big mountains and catching big fish. A bear rampaged through our kitchen and I had to chase him away from our food bags. I caught a monster 16 inch brook trout on fly tackle. The kids had a 5 day, 4 night independant expedition.

And now I'm out of the field and home on the range. In Nebraska that is, back on the ranch for a week. Then I'll head to Bozeman for an international conference of diabetic mountaineers (betcha didn't even know we existed), and then I'll meet up with a certain lady friend and go wander around the Grand Teton for awhile and then head back to Flagstaff. And do my best to stay put for a little while.

Headed into the field

2007-07-01T11:51:00.000-07:00

Gonna be in the field for the next month with a herd/swarm/flock of 16-17 year olds backpacking around the Wind River Wilderness in Wyoming. Will be back in August (with pictures and tales of adventure). See you then.

Jared

Seasonal migration patterns

2007-06-28T21:34:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I had an instructor who shared with me a perspective that has been helpful to me ever since. The subject was the seasonal lifestyle, the constant (or seemingly constant) changing of address, job, location, climate, and friends that happens a few times each year to those of us in the tribe. She got to talking about the differance between nomadic peoples and people who simply wander. Nomads may be always on the move, but they tend to frequent the same pastures and lands year after year, season after season and that after awhile these lands, dispersed though they might be in time and space, become home as places and seasonal events become part of a person's landscape. Thus the nomad, despite being on the move, is at the same time always at home on the move, within the boundaries of that personal landscape. The wanderer in contrast lacks that personal connection with the places and seasonal events they encounter.

This concept has helped me at times when I feel particularly un-grounded. This is not one of those times, in part because I have grown into my personal landscape and migration pattern, which includes the journey from Flagstaff to Lander, Wyoming, where I sit writing this. I passed through Mesa Verde for the third year in a row to visit Melissa the Taller. Went to Winter Park to visit a friend from the Ice. Made my yearly pilgrimage to Ft. Collins to visit the New Belgium Brewery and sample the fine beverages on tap. And now tommorrow I'll start my third season as an instructor for NOLS. While I generally try and take some differant roads and studiously avoid the freeway, I invariably end up on familiar territory, especially as the years go by. And that is ok.

This year is feels shorter though. I still made my rounds in Colorado, and will visit the ranch for a week after I get out of the field, and then swing up to Montana for a conference of diabetic mountaineers. Then I don't know what will happen, but hopefully an adventurous road trip involving mountains, rivers, and a girl I'm kinda' sweet on, all on the way back to Flagstaff. Then I have the lofty goal of setting a new record for longest consecutive stretch of time without leaving for distant lands. I think if I make it past five and a half months, it will be the longest I've ever spent in one place at a stretch in over 7 years. Regardless of the time, it is the attitude which is important, wherein my adventures happen on a slightly more local scale. But since I'm still adjusting to this new attitude, I think this road trip and NOLS adventure is a good stepping stone in transition.

Driving through Colorado backroads is like driving through a post card.

Tasting at the New Belgium Brewery.

Ranger Mel and I.

Condors

2007-06-23T13:27:00.000-07:00

Went out in the field for a few days last week, helped a friend who teaches desert survival classes do a course for some fellows from the National Transportation Safety Board, the guys who travel around the country and the world investigating plane crashes. Anyway, I taught a short class on wilderness first aid and helped Tony Nestor teach his basic outdoor survival curriculum. Then we went and toured the ruins at Wupatki National Monument and then Grand Canyon, where I got my first good look at the condors that were released into the wild here and few years ago and have since begun breeding succesfully in the wild.

A ten foot-plus wingspan, these bad boys were swooping and diving and soaring no more than 15 feet from me at times. At other times these were much, much farther, obviously.

Kumquat

2007-06-10T20:03:00.001-07:00

Have you ever had a kumquat? Do you know what a kumquat is? Do you think the word kumquat is fun to say out loud?

Until today my answers would have been much as your's: no, sorta, and you betcha'!

At my favorite grocery store, they sit in a small pile under the mangos and kiwis and assorted fruits that grow in the tropics and yet are still available in this high desert town 11 1/2 months of the year. They are in a small pile that never changes size or shape or goes on sale. In fact the kumquats that I bought and ate today may be the entire suppy of kumquats in Flagstaff, so infrequent is their purchase and consumption. Or so I infer from the aforementioned constancy in appearance in the produce section and the fact that it took 3 checkout ladies to identify what I was attempting to buy and locate a price code for it.

So what do they taste like? Well first, if you didn't know, they look like tiny ovuloid (a recently invented word meaning oval shaped sphere like blob) oranges, both in color and texture, if not size, being about the same size as quail eggs. So the comment about quail eggs aside, they taste like they look; tiny oranges that you eat all in one bite, rind/peel/skin and all. So first it's bitter, they it's sweet. Kind of like stereotypical old men in disney movies.

Sorry, I didn't really know what else to write about, life is less compelling in written form while not on the road. But I've been enjoying these last nearly 2 months in town, having adventures of a decidely more local nature. In about 2 weeks I'll head out again, but for a much shorter time, only going to Wyoming for a month to lead a NOLS trip in the Wind River range, then making a pass through Nebraska and Montana for a couple weeks on the way home.

Not work related

2007-06-04T21:04:00.000-07:00

Went down to Fossil Springs last week, just for an overnight. That meant we could bring all the things that you seldom see on a backpacking trip: beer, wine, watermelons, mangos, cantelope, and what seemed like 3 metric tons of assorted other fresh produce for a monsterous breakfast buffett. I was torn what picture to post here for the trip, this one captures the moment best I guess, even though I think the only person in our group in this frame is Risa, flying through the air from the rope swing into the creek.

Went climbing at the Pit on Sunday, first time on real rock since September. Felt nice. Nic is belaying me here as I pause to take his picture.

Tim-Tam Suck

2007-06-02T22:34:00.000-07:00

I first learned of the Tim-Tam, and the Tim-Tam Suck, from Aussie Steve, the intern at NAU Outdoors from a year or so ago. The Tim-Tam you see is a chocolate cookie wafer thingy, something the Brits and Aussies might call a biscuit. Which really confuses them when they visit the U.S. and find biscuits and gravy on menus. But we would call it a cookie. So the Tim-Tam suck works when you bite the tip off either end of the wafer-cookie and dip it into your hot cocoa and suck the hot chocolate through the chocolate wafer, providing a moment of extra rich coco bliss before the whole thing melts into coco sludge. Which is good too.

Had my first day of work at the new job last week, after a 4 day backpacking trip in the canyon country. Then after a day of work went on an overnight hike to Fossil Springs. This week I'll probably work more than one day. Hard to get things done otherwise, still, I think it best to ease into this sort of thing, like a hot tub, or conversation with strange drivers while hitchhiking.

Hard to focus too much on work these days; I have a new adventuring buddy that likes exploring new places at least as much as I do. And she is possibly even more hard core than I am.

2007-05-22T12:00:00.001-07:00

Blogger is weird. Scroll down for latest post.

WFR, Ice, and adventures where the grass is green

2007-05-21T20:28:00.000-07:00

Last night we ran a simulated mass casualty incident in the woods outside of town, to test our students ability to perform medical care under duress. As they ususally do, they excelled despite out best efforts to shake them through the generous application of pig guts, stage blood, smudge fires, and screaming. Always with the screaming. But the reasoning goes, if they can perform under these most intense of situations, when confronted with the far more probable reality of a simple car accident or broken ankle in the backcountry, they will have little trouble. But the intense 9-10 hours a day these last 8 days takes a toll on student and instructor alike, and we are all glad the final exam is tommorrow. They are ready for it, and I am ready to begin tailoring the program for this fall's semester long class. There is much work to be done.

...........................................................................................................................................................

I was sitting in the living room tonight and got to looking at some photo's of Antarctica that a friend of mine took. Looking at them, I felt like I was there. I was cold. I remembered the snow on New Year's Eve, how the wind bit my gloveless hands on Thanksgiving. I could taste the Kiwi beer, hear the music at the Helo Hangar party, the Halloween party, the 70's party, all the parties that blended together. I could see my friends, and the scores of people and handful of places that made up my world for so long. It is hard to think that I won't be back this season. Hopefully down the line, but it is hard to say. I guess the grass is always greener in the other hemisphere... I can also remember, when I take the time to do so, the acute homesickness. But staying busy helps keep me happy with where I am. Speaking of happy with where I am, how about a picture from last week's trip to Coal Mine Canyon:

Homecoming

2007-05-05T19:15:00.000-07:00

Of the many times I have left Flagstaff over the last 7 years, often for many months at a time, this has been perhaps the best homecoming I have ever had. No ripping huge party or parade or people greeting me at the door. Actually the house was empty, as I more or less snuck back into town no telling anyone of my exact arrival time. But it was a myriad of other things, both large and small. My favorite local bluegrass band was playing at the Wine Loft. Old friends, co-workers, and the random familiar faces that make up the landscape of Flagstaff were around, and they remembered my name! Spring time in my mountain town, and bbqs and people coming out of hibernation. The house was rebuilt (mostly) after the fire last year. 15 months I've been out of the house. I have been offered and accepted a job at the university heading the wilderness medicine program. And I'm sort of seeing a gal that I met almost a year ago, and suprise of suprises we managed to stay in touch.

So life is good. People keep asking how Antarctica was, and so I relate the good times and funny stories, but the hard parts and problems are buried under 2 months of leisure travel in the south pacific. I had a great time and can't really concieve of never going back to the Ice again, but I think I'll try and give stability a try for awhile, stability being a relative term of course.

No shortage of things to do

2007-04-23T11:27:00.000-07:00

I made it home, woo hoo!

Slowly I am working my brain back into Flagstaff mode. Bringing that little mental rolodex of people and places back online. And picking up the pieces of a life put on hold for 7 months. Funny, it seems like only yesterday...

It snowed here today.

The States are getting bigger

2007-04-17T22:15:00.000-07:00

Well, they let me back in the country. I know it shouldn't be an issue or come as a suprise, but I am always thankful whenever they do that.

Hawaii is a nice transition. In most ways it is very much south pacific: palm trees, warm humid air, polynesian language, tropical fruits falling from tree tops and knocking people silly from time to time. On the other hand, it is most certainly American, in ways that you don't notice until you've been out of the country for awhile. For example, the cars we drive are HUGE! Compared with the rest of the world, we are rolling around in armored personel carriers. And gas is cheap, even in Hawaii, by world standards, we get the go-juice plenty cheap. And beer, thank heavens, is cheap to. Beer being such an integral part of Aussie society, you'd think it would be more affordable, but compared to the pennies we pay for cheap swill in these parts, theirs is quite dear indeed. I'm still walking on the wrong side of the road and thinking in kilometers rather than miles (they really are better!), but it is nice to be back in the States. Sort of, I mean the State farthest removed from all the other ones, that by no logical means should be part of the States. Yep, nice to be back.

I went to Volcanos National Park yesterday. To see lava. The red glowing molten kind. Now I'm used to the Park Service, heck I worked for 'em, so I was not expecting the freedom they give to people to wander up and play with the gooey red stuff. Well, let me explain. First, they warm you extensivly about the dangers of volcanos. Rightly so, given the number of buildings, roads, and national park service visitor centers buried under the lava in the last hundred years. And people killed. But after that they just kinda point across the older flows and say "yep, it's out there, good luck... and don't fall in." Thankfully for all involved it is a somewhat self selecting hazard, as it is a good 4 mile walk across trackless lava flows to reach the neighborhood of the hot stuff. But even then, I know first hand the extent and great lengths people will go to in order to do stupid things in nature, so I was suprised that you can in fact walk up until your shoes start to melt on the rocks. Instead of loosing rubber, I went to where the lava flow entered the sea, and proceeded to be amazed. I saw new land being born.

Now the fire fighter in me saw a fire burning, and a water supply, in fact a literal ocean of water, wash over the fire time and again and the fire never went out, even under water. I just looked uncomprehending back and forth between the pacific ocean, and this lava flow: water----fire, and it won't go out. My universe was out of alignment. But stare at flowing lava long enough and it doesn't matter anymore. Or maybe that was the fumes. Anyway, it was amazing.

King suit

2007-04-12T17:22:00.000-07:00

I've always thought it wise to carry one reasonably nice outfit while traveling. You just never know when you might need to dress up and look like something other than a dusty vagrant. One overseas journalist described it as a king suit, what you carry with you in the off chance you are invited to tea with the king of some small island nation. Or, you know, what you wear when you are hitchhiking through the Australian outback and a car with two ladies pulls up and offers you a ride and then a few hours later invites you to dinner and the opera. I can't count how many times that has happened to me. Oh, wait, yes I can: once. And it was a lot of fun, we saw the musical "Kiss Me, Kate" at the World Theater in Charter's Towers, Australia, a town of about nine thousand people. Which made it the biggest town by far I had seen in the preceeding 800 kilometers. But the theater was amazing. It could have stood proudly in any major city in the world, seating 700 people and built in Classical architectural style. In a town about the size of Alliance, Nebraska. I thought it charmingly opptomistic to say the least, but it seemed to have worked: a traveling light opera company was doing a show here and these ladies were driving 4 hours each way to see it.

Anyway, now I'm in Townsville, or rather holed up on a little island off the coast waiting for the weather to clear and hopefully get in a dive or two on the Great Barrier Reef before flying out on Sunday. But even if it doesn't clear, it is a fine place to relax and unwind for my last three days down under. I have a hammock, so all it well. In a few days I'll land in Hawaii for a quick 4 days to see the volcanoes and perhaps climb Mauna Kea, the high point for Hawaii. Then home sweet home.

Me and Uluru/Ayer's Rock at sunrise.

Uluru. Not just a big rock, a really big rock with all sorts of interesting faces and aspects.

The outback. This, and lots of it for thousands of miles. But to be fair there are 2 emus just outside the camera's field of vision. Seemingly the only signs of life in any direction...

Noodling through the mullock

2007-04-08T16:41:00.000-07:00

So Coober Pedy proved to be as advertised: a mining town in the middle of the outback desert, where people live mostly in old mine shafts and there is little to do but fossick, or if you are of lesser means, noodle through the mullock. These are respective forms of opal mining.

Now when I first heard about this place, years ago, it represented more like a fantasy, the farthest most remote, absurd, and harshest outpost of humanity on earth. And I thought boy, I'd like to go there some time. Fast forward a few years and I have already been to Antarctica, and I wind up in Coober Pedy. They have a tourist information center and pizzia joint now, and tourists such as myself actually show up. But after you wander through a few underground buisnesses, look at some opal, and noodle through the mullock yourself (I didn't have the faintest idea what I was looking for), there ain't alot else to see. It is still a harsh, and poor, mining camp at the ass end of no where, where water is nearly as dear as the rocks they mine. But it was worth a visit, because the place I slept that night was 20 feet underground in a huge old mine shaft and really quite cool.

From there it was Uluru, Ayer's Rock. Now all the pictures are mostly the same side, from a distance and you think, yeah, it's a big rock alright. But when you get closer, and go around it, you realize it is more than a big rock. It is a really really big rock and the prominent feature of an otherwise flat desert all around. It supports differant micro climates, and it has many faces that you don't see from the post card shot.

Now in my last post, I mentioned it was about 2000 km of long flat road through the outback until you hit the far side ocean. Well, since naturally I didn't think that was long enough, I decided to to take the long way back, turning east at Tenant Creek to add an additional 900 miles or so of outback highway. Actually it is because flights from Darwin are so dang expensive and I can get home cheaper from Townsville. So giant saltwater croc's will have to wait, I'm headed for the Great Barrier Reef.

Me and Winnie the Pooh

2007-04-04T00:49:00.000-07:00

So I made it to Adelaide on saturday, but naturally the post office wasn't open on the weekend, so I found myself with time to spend and no real firm plans. When ever one finds one-self in such a predicament, I find checking the map to be a good first step. Hmmm... Aussie maps are silly things, with even sillier place names: Cocklebiddy, Wodonga, Myponga, Bindi Bindi, Wagga Wagga, and my personal favorite, Nar Nar Goon. Yep, I coulda' been a cartographer here... Why tommorow I'm off to Coober Pedy, the underground opal mining town. Not like underground as in only the coolest hip-cats now about it, but underground like excavated from old mine shafts to escape the blistering heat and desert sand storms.

Anyway, back to the original story: I was examining the map when I noticed Kangaroo Island. Hmm, sounds interesting. Further investigation showed that the island, which has been seperate from the OZ mainland for about 7,000 years, is a refuge for many species threatened or wiped out by feral cats, foxes, rabbitts, etc on the main land. What was more fascinating however is the fact that the island harbors the worlds last remining pure strain of Ligurian honey bees. Now truth be told I don't know a Ligurian honey bee from a hole in the ground (though I might luck out on a multiple choice test), but to sample the last of something, the only remaining place on earth to find that something, particularly if that something is honey flavored ice cream located on a remote pacific island and guarded by hordes of wallabies, well, that is a mission worth going after. Or a windmill worth tilting at, depending on where you stand.

So a bus ride, a ferry ride, a few thumbed rides, and a long walk through the forest found me where I wanted to be: surrounded by flying stinging insects. But more importantly, eating and drinking honey, honey water, honey wine, honey ice cream, and chocolate covered honey comb.
Reverse course, collect my mail, and head north.

Now I am poised at the edge of civilization, on the verge of the Stuart Highway, a narrow strip of pavement about 2000 miles long with not much on either side until you hit the ocean, far far away. Sweeeet!

Further evidence

2007-04-02T22:01:00.000-07:00

Along the Great Ocean Road, between Melbourne and Adelaide. Now it was great, yes, but having seen a few roads, 89A between Flagstaff and Sedona, 395 from L.A. to Reno, and the west coast of New Zealand are all peers.

Summit shot on top of Mt. Koziusco, the highest peak in Australia at about 7,200 feet above sea level. Not much more than Flagstaff, really, but blowing better than 60 knots wind the day I climbed.

Monument and summit rocks on Koziusco, all covered in rime ice about 1/2 inch thick.

Evidence

2007-03-27T16:07:00.000-07:00

Surfing lesson south of Ballina, in Australia. Really tiny waves, but that makes it easy for us rookies to stand up.

Flying foxes near Port Macquarie. Don't let the name fool ya, they are bats, with three foot wingspans and hanging, squawking, and swooping by the thousands in a nosiy din. But don't worry, they eat fruit. Most of the time...

And the requisite glory shot, me and the Sydney opera house and harbour bridge.

Critters you don't see every day

2007-03-24T22:54:00.000-07:00

I saw a wombat two days ago. It was like a cross between a bear, a pig, a koala, and a gorilla. And it was built like a red brick shit house. Solid. Like you wouldn't want to smack one in the face with a shovel, for fear he might take the shovel from your hands and eat it pointy end first, before he proceeded to lay the hurt on you. At least you wouldn't want to do all that unless you were a 16 year old boy, who, trying to impress the out of town hitch-hiker, barreled out of the moving pick-up and chased the beast down the dirt road, before wisely turning and jumping back into the safety of the truck. Ah, the things you see when you leave the beaten path behind...

Speaking of the beaten path behind, I made good on Mt. Koziusko, the highest mountain in Australia. So it goes on the list along with Cuba, Mexico, and the Bahamas, as well as 18 of the 50 states I have high pointed.

Now, south... Melbourne?

Meat pies

2007-03-19T03:14:00.000-07:00

Date Line: Yesterday.

I still haven't seen a kangaroo, but that hasn't stopped me from eating one. I was trolling the supermarket looking to snag supper when, at the meat counter, the kangaroo steak seemed to be the most economical source of animal protein. Eh, when in OZ, do as the Aussie's, right? So I got a steak with the intent of bbq-ing it, but what passes for a grill at my hostel is no more than a big greasy griddle, hardly a proper barbeque. So I just pan fried the thing, with a bit o' garlic and salt, it wasn't bad. Pretty good actually, although I reckon the Nebraska beef market is in no danger from this particular sector. A tad gamey, like it wasn't dressed properly, although I think that is the natural flavor. Still, with enough garlic and salt, downright decent, especially when the leftovers go into a curry.

Come to think of it, I haven't seen a crocodile yet either, but I ate a crocodile meat pie also. I asked the gal behind the counter if they actually tasted good or if it was a tourist gimmick. She didn't know, hadn't had one. But it was tasty, and as you may imagine, a bit like chicken.

Date Line: Today.

I have seen 3 kangaroos, but still no crocodile. Did see dolphins, koalas, and several thousand flying fox bats. No bat meat pie on the menu in the immediate future however.

Date Line: Tommorrow.

Sydney. I hope.

OZ

2007-03-16T21:14:00.000-07:00

So I was sitting on a bench in Auckland waiting for a bus to take me to the beach. It was raining. And windy. And cold. And right then and there I decided to go to Australia. So I went and booked myself on the next flight out, and 15 hours later I was on my way.

Since landing in Brisbane, I hopped the first train south and skipped the city all together, tired of Auckland as I was. Three rides later and I was in Bryon Bay. Now this is a strange little place, a beatiful beachside town with good beaches, good surf, and good weather. And the highest concentration of beatiful people I've ever seen in my life. Seriously, 9 out of every 10 people I pass on the street or beach could be models in magazines or on tv. Creepy.

Now I have spent most of my life, and especially these last 5 months, in places where folks are strong and rugged and capable, occasionally handsome, but seldom beatiful. To be surrounded by this freakshow is unnerving, and naturally my first instinct was to flee, head down the road or into the bush. But I checked my instict and decided to see what happens in such a novel setting. Purely for the sake of exploration, or course.

Now my results, preliminary as they are: beatiful seems to be expensive, or at least living amongst the beatiful is. Everything from food or activites to accomodation is aq bit pricey. Also, the beatiful don't seem to do much else besides being beatiful. I've gone surfing, hiking, and taken a digeridoo lesson, as well as the requisite laying on the beach, and there seems to be an inverse relationship between activity and the number of glamorus people.

Anyway, I've about had it with this scene and all its' scenery, I reckon tommorrow I'll head south and find a small town I can camp outside the city limits and look at beatiful scenery (which only gets better the more you associate with it) as opposed to glamorus people (which tend to do the opposite).

learning experiance

2007-03-12T21:38:00.000-07:00

It doesn't look good, the odds of my finding an Australia bound ship, at least any time in the next month. Not so much for lack of trying, more for the prevelence of cyclones of the coast of Australia. Turns out most folks won't be headed in that direction for about another month, at which time I might have fair luck getting passage. Mean time, most yachties are bound for New Caldonia, Fiji, Vanatu, and a host of other Pacific islands. Which would be fine, if in my haste I didn't already have a visa for Australia and a ticket home from Sydney. And mail waiting for me in Adelaide. I could fly to Australia and then get work on a boat in the Whitsundays, an island group off the coast, or I could crew on local racing yachts, or I could work the dive boats off the east coast, or if I had my competent crew cert I could be a janitor on a super yacht that leaves for Dubai in 3 days. You get the idea, lots of opportunities, none that seem to fit the narrow parameters I set for myself. But it has been a learning experiance, walking the docks, talking to yacht brokers, bartenders, and sailors in yacht clubs, coffee shops, bars, marine supply stores, map and chart shops, and while hitch hiking around. And it ain't over yet, just because the odds are long doesn't mean the game is over. I still have a chance if I can find a foreign registered ship sailing in the next few days that will take on another hand. So back to the water front. And even if it doesn't pan out this time around, I am better equipped with knowledge the next time I try and hitch hike 'cross the water.

ramblin' from place to place

2007-03-10T18:39:00.000-07:00

Whew, wow. Sorry it has been a bit since posting my whereabouts and whatabouts; internet access has been few and far between in the small towns, sandy beaches,and forest hide aways I have been frequenting of late. That and I dropped my digital camera in the ocean and had no pics to put up for awhile. The only reason I do now is that the friends I was sea kayaking with were kind enought to offer theirs.But I'm getting ahead of myself.

At last report, I was headed north up the west coast of the south island. I wandered my way into Motueka and then to Kaiteriteri where I met up with 4 friends from the Ice. We rented sea kayaks and went out for 3 days in Abel Tasman National Park. And Holy Crap, was it amazing! Just like the magazines andtravel brochures, with sandy beaches and jade green water. We say manta raysand seals and birds of all sorts I had never known, and still don't know the names of.We camped on the beaches and boiled mussels and drank wine from a box and enjoyed life on a slightly less harsh continent.

Since finishing that paddle, I headed east to Picton and then crossed the CookStrait on the ferry. In Wellington went to the huge Te Papa museum before heading north to Tongerirero National Park. Despite cold winds and clouds it was beatiful crossing the active volcanic fields that were the film setting forMordor in Lord of the Rings movies. I would have liked to climb Mt. Doom, but low lyingclouds prevented a summit attempt. Frodo I am not. After that headed north and found myselfin Waipoua forest searching rain forest jungles for the largest and oldest Kauri trees on the planet. At 50-60 feet in circumfrence and 150 or more feettall, they are an amazing site. I've always been a sucker for cool trees, like theoldest in Bristlecone Pine Forest, California, tallest in Redwoods, or biggestround down here. Anyway, now I am in Aukland searching for a northbound boatthat needs crew, cook, or company. Looking to parlay one of those for passage acrossthe Tasman Sea to Australia. Failing that I'll just buy a ticket. But dang, wouldn't it be cool to hitchhike across the oceans?

the last few days

2007-02-26T23:28:00.000-07:00

This is the area I stayed last night, Punakeiki, the Pancake rocks, on the west coast.

A kea, the worlds only species of alpine parrot. Yep, that's a glacier in the background. This one was a cheeky bastard, every time I turned my back he had a go at my rucksack.

Me and the kea on top of Avalanche Peak, near Arthur's Pass.

Hoki

2007-02-25T19:21:00.000-07:00

Can't type for long, only 5 minutes left on the pay-by-theminute maching I'm on. Still not entirely unsed to paying for things; on the Ice everything wsa free except the beer, and even that was cheap, at lesat relative to NZ where a pint is anywhere from $4.50-7.50 a pint.

Made it to Hokatika on the west coast, having fun in the sun, headed north now to Able Tasman national park for some sea kayaking, then maybe on to Picton and Wellington and north. Can't say much more, although there is much more to say.

Ice People

2007-02-21T21:11:00.000-07:00

We are easily identified, the pasty white Americans who smell flowers and roll in the grass and perhaps smell faintly still of diesl fuel. Over a thousand of us transit through Christchurch every feburary over a 3 week period, and we almost overwhelm the town. Walking through the square or between popular resturants or bars, every other minute I see another group of Ice people. It is kinda nice, in an inbred, sociopathic way: as we attempt to transition from the ordered and modulated life of the station to the wider world and re-enter polite society, we can be here without having to actually talk to normal people, since Ice people are always at hand. But after a few days the itch to move along comes on; I've only been here 36 hours and I feel the gravity of the open road calling. But for now I can enjoy the social protection afforded by friends and cohorts known for so long in close quarters. But now I can enjoy them at a distance and at my leisure, a far more pleasant prospect than the enforced confinment of only 2 days ago.

Now if you will excuse me, I have an urgent need to sit in a meadow of flowers at the botanical garden.

633

2007-02-18T19:32:00.000-07:00

I have retired from the field of custodial engineering. This wet mop operator, push broom technician, janitorial artist's season is over, with the total of 633 toilets cleaned. I only wish I had a handy figure for the number of square miles vacumed and mopped. Actually that isn't the only thing I wish for; I wish for cold beer and hot women and temperatures above the freezing point of all life on earth. Lucky for me all these things exsist in a much higher concentration only a few (about 31 and counting) hours from now. I have passed room inspection, collected my travel funds, and in a few minuntes bag drag and weigh in for the flight tommorow. It is good to be leaving.

Winter-over personell are all here, waiting for us to leave. It is a slightly awkward situation, as we are toasty to the point of near madness and they are fresh from their sojurns in warm climates. We are training them in the ways we have done our jobs all year and they are dutifully trying to play a long, knowing that when the last C-17 northbound waggles its' wings in farewell, they will find their own ways of getting the job done and getting by for the next 6-8 months without support. We think we are toasty, a summer in McMurdo ain't nothin' compared to a winter, especially for those hardy (raving mad) souls wintering at Pole. The last summer flight left there yesterday afternoon, barely escaping the -50 degree flight limit at -47 degrees C.

So the winter over people. They are obstensibly like us, but more so, damaged beyond repair by too many summer seasons on the ice, they then choose to winter. But arriving in Feb, near the time I am leaving, I feel no desire to get to know them, can't share banter about upcoming off ice travel plans, and really want nothing more from them than not taking my table at lunch or otherwise screwing with my routine. Thus one of the symptoms of toastiness previously mentioned: a fanatical abhorance of change in any form to the fragile little world we create for ourselves here.

New Zealand here I come!

Empty harbor, empty station

2007-02-11T21:18:00.000-07:00

Another flight left today, with 137 souls on board. The supply vessel left saturday night and the ice breaker sunday. More people will leave every two days until, well, until the only people left on station are 134 deranged, or soon to be deranged winter-over personel.

When the supply vessel offload ended around 5:15pm saturday evening, a cheer went up on station, as it meant that the bar could open again for the first time in a week. The store could also resume sales of alchohol, as we were, in theory anyway a dry town that week. By the time the supply vessel American Tern cast off and the Polar Sea tied up on saturday night, it was nearly midnight (and cold, about 18 below zero), so rather than hike all the way into town the Coasties decided to take their shore leave then and there, right on the ice pier. So naturally we joined them and drank their beer, a bitter from Australia and a nice break from the same two brands of Kiwi beer we commonly have on station.

Anyway, with people leaving at an incredible pace, it really feels like the end is here. Only one week left for me, as I am on one of the last flights out, which I like for the fact that I'll get to see the station get small again and enjoy a final Antarctic sunset, which will break the horizon for the first time the night before I leave.

The Polar Sea and the fuel tanker Paul Buck approaching the ice pier.

Minke whales in the waters of McMurdo Sound. We have lots of them out in the bay right now, I can sometimes see them breach from the building I clean.

Locust

2007-02-03T20:49:00.000-07:00

They arrived as a swarm, devouring everything in sight and disrupting the tranquil harmony that was life on the Harsh Continent. They are NAVCHAPS. Navy cargo handling personel that arrived a few days ago to help with supply vessel off load. But since they arrived several days prior to vessel, they have had little to do but clog up the entire station with their idleness and ignorance.

Now, it would be differant mind you if this was October or even November, when so many of us were new and willing to accomodate each others weirdness. But then we settled into our routine of "normalacy" and life went swimmingly. Now these FNG's come in and gum up the works.

Do I sound annoyed? I suppose so, like some crusty old timer who is grumpy that the newbies took his lunch table. But, well, they did damn it! There is a delicatly constructed social order on station, and the day they arrived it was throw into upheaval. Us townies were all shaken and walking around with shocked expressions, mumbling to one another and ourselves trying to find the old order in all the chaos. It isn't just the total number of people on station right now, though that is considerable, with all the NAVCHAPS, Coasties, Air National Guard, Tanker crewman, transient Polies on R&R, arriving winter over personel, and the regulars. It is more the fact that this sudden influx is of people unfamiliar with the routine. So it is nigh on impossible to get computer time, they swarm the lounges and watch tv all day, and they take over the galley. But it is ok, vessel comes in a few hours and they'll be put to work proper, and then they'll be gone. A few deep breaths... Alright, I'm ok now.

In answer to the question, no the folks leaning over the rail in the earlier picture aren't sea sick, they are watching for whales and penguins. After a big blow the other night, nearly all the brash ice cleared out and there is open water off of Hut Point. I went to a BBQ last night and we could see whales spouting in the sound.

Morale Cruise

2007-01-30T22:21:00.000-07:00

Due to favorable sea ice conditions, it was decided that there would be an opportunity for a "morale cruise" for up to 400 people on station to board the "Polar Sea" for a 3 hour cruise along the channel that they broke through the ice from the open sea to the station. So last Sunday afternoon I was one of the lucky ones aboard the afternoon cruise as we steamed down and back through the ice. We saw Minke whales and Emporer penguins and of course hordes of Weddell seals. We even got to smash some ice just for fun, although the engines were hardly running at full throttle.

It has been an extrodinarly year for such things; last year the sea ice road to Cape Evans was never opened to recreational travel due to ice conditions, this year we ran nearly 10 trips. Some years penguin sightings are infrequent and distant, this year we have had several occasions where they wander right up close, once through the cargo yard and down the street. And we haven't gotten a morale cruise in years, as the mega-ice-berg B-15 has played havoc with the sea ice. Back in '03 the supply vessel couldn't even reach the station and off load took place over 3 miles of ice away from town. But this year we have been lucky, and it pays dividends. Even though we are all warned not to expect anything resembling a good time or adventure by taking a job here, most of us still hold out some hope, and by giving those of us working mind numbing jobs for slave wages, getting to see a penguin or get out of town and see the real Antarctic for a few hours once in awhile is not only a season highlight, but the experiance of a lifetime for many, and the reward in station morale and retention of employees is huge. And for an outfit facing 60% turnover every year, that means something.

lack of motivatio...

2007-01-23T22:42:00.000-07:00

...n

The season is winding down. Conversations are fewer round the tables in the galley and more meals eaten silence. When conversations do take place, something previously unthinkable sometimes happens: they end. Earlier in the season it was habit to not ever conclude a conversation, but instead allow them to carry on, drifting lazily over weeks and months, out of simple nessecity. Better to not exhaust the supply of topics to talk about over dinner. Better to enjoy the same subjects for weeks. Now things wrap up a bit more. People are leaving, and most everyone has the far away look in their eye of places and people that are not here. And there is fatigue. As the long hours, cold dry air, and repetative work slowly wear away at a person, and the parties and late nights take their toll, exhaustion becomes the watch word. Rather than participate in the oodles of things always going on around station, more and more people hide in their rooms or lounges watching movies and sleeping. The parties are a good thing however, as they are the common means for keeping track of time in a place where the sun never sets, shifts operate 24 hours a day, lunch may be at noon or midnight with little differance observable, and the exact same time every day finds many of us doing the exact same thing as the day before in the exact same place. This de-a-vu Twilight Zone effect is only broken by major events and parties. Did that happen before Icestock or after? Was that between the Christmas party and Block Party?

I had written a blog entry the other day, before Blogger ate it and pooped it into the ether of the internet. It was about Sir Edmund Hillary and all the other V.D.'s (I mean D.V.'s, Distinguished Visitors) like the Prime Minister of New Zealand and the direcor of the National Science Foundation and various congressional and cabinet staff members who come down here and wander all over the place making life difficult for us. Actually Ed Hillary isn't so bad, we like him, since he was the first man with Tenzing Norgay to climb Everest and he worked down on the Ice for many seasons back in the olden days, leading the first motorized traverse of the polar plateau to the South Pole. So he's a badass, even at 80-something.

Been cleaning, still, and teaching salsa lessons. Led an overnight camping trip and climb of Castle Rock last weekend, may do the same this weekend. There us talk of being allowed to board the Polar Sea for a few hours as it works the channel; there are whales out there and a morale cruise ranks as one of the best boondoggles a person can get. Saw a penguin last night at Hut Point as I was leading a tour of the historic hut. And I have only 25 days left. That's right, I got my redeployment date: 20 Febuary. I asked for the 24th, the last flight off the ice before winter, ut lots of folks wanted that day, so I got my third choice. Still better than the folks who are leaving this week and next, and every week from here till the end. But there is one last hurah on the horizon. Supply vessel and tanker are on their way, and when they bring the suppleis for the station for the next year we will all work rotating shifts round the clock until the ships are unloaded. Then it is a rapid transition to winter and we are out.

Rugby

2007-01-13T17:41:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday was the All Continent Rugby Championship Game. Sadly, the McMurdo Station Mt. Terror Rugby Club lost 22-0 against the Scott Base Rugby Club in an exciting game held in beatiful weather on the ice field on the Ross Ice Shelf. I played fullback for the first half, and although we fielded a better than average team, the Kiwi's really stepped it up this year, it being their 50th aniversary and also hosting a visit by their Prime Minister and also Sir Edmound Hillary this week. That and if they had lost, it is quite likely that they wouldn't be allowed to go back home. So they made sure to step up their game, and history repeated itself as they took home the title once again. Actually, in the entire history of rugby on the continent, Scott Base has always won. But one of these days, we'll take them...

Polar Sea

2007-01-10T23:53:00.000-07:00

The Polar Sea rounding Hut Point on its' way into McMurdo Station, with the Trans-Antarctic Mountains in the background

The Polar Sea approaching the ice pier.

The view from amidships on the Polar Sea, looking into the brash ice.

So the Swedish ice breaker Oden arrived alost a week ago after cutting a channel through the sea ice for the tanker and supply vessel to pass through so we can take on supplies for the coming year. Then yesterday the US Coast Guard Cutter Polar Sea arrived; together with the Oden they will work to keep the channel open and free of bergie bits for the next few weeks. There is even hope that if we get a good strong storm with high winds, that all the sea ice will blow out into the Sound all the way up to the ice shelf. If that is the case, then the 35-100 orcas that are swimiming behind the ice breakers will be playing in our front yard. Or so goes the hope.

Anyway, I had volunteered to be a line handler for when ships do arrive, so when Polar Sea came in, I was on the ice pier standing by to take her lines and tie her up. That evening we were invited aboard to take a tour and see their vessel, and then raid their ship's store, just as their crew was then raiding outr store. I think they got the better deal, as ours sell beer. That night at the bar the place was choked with Coasties enjoying thier first shore leave in awhile. So we'll play host to them for a few more days while they take on fuel and then they'll be back to work in the channel.

LDB and airdrop

2007-01-06T15:42:00.000-07:00

A disclaimer, I did not personally take these particular photo's, but they are illustrative of life and operations here on the Ice.

The LDB inflated and on its' way, taller than the Washington monument.

Long Duration Balloon being inflated to hoist aloft the ANITA nuetrino detection array for a few laps around the continent's upper atmosphere.

A few weeks ago there was an airdrop of cargo at the South Pole. The USAP is constantly looking for a better way to supply the Pole, as everything from fuel to people to freshies must be flown in on C-130's, hundreds of flights every season. This makes even the paper clips extremly expensive, to say nothing of the diesel fuel and apples. In an effort to find cheaper/better ways of getting material to the Pole, a traverse across the continent is underway to explore the possability of an ice road. In the meantime, an airdrop using the larger C-17 Globe Master was done for the first time, rather than the C-130 Hercules or the older C-121 Super Consetellation. BTW, I love the names of these huge cargo planes, don't you?

Pallets slidding out the rear of a C-17 over the south pole.

Cargo for the pole.

Science

2007-01-03T23:39:00.000-07:00

It is what we are all here to support, the reason for our very existence on this Harsh Continent. Yep, Science. Soooo, wazzat?

Lots of folks have asked about the science that is going on down here, why we have a research station in this inhospitable place. One of the nice things about living here is that I might eat dinner with an internationaly renouned film director, a leader in neutrino and sub atomic particle physics, seal biologists, sub-glacial geologists, vulcanoligists, and more. So, some about the specific projects?

Well, the marquee project this year was ANDRILL, a project drilling through the Ross Ice Shelf, sinking a shaft into the sea floor bed 1300 meters deep. That in addition to 80 meters or ice and 800 meters of ocean. They brought up sediment cores and analyzed them for all sorts of data, especially that which would describe the extent and behavior of the ice shelf and glaciers during different climactic periods in the earths history over the past 12 million or so years. About 80 folks here at McMurdo and another 2 dozen or so over at the Kiwi base worked on this project.

Other big ticket items: there were 3 Long Duration Balloon flights. These bad boys are filled with helium and sent into the upper atmosphere, standing taller than the Washington Monument when inflated. One of them carried ANITA, a neutrino detection array. One carried BLAST, a most amazing device that will survey star formation and new galaxy development in the outer universe. The third carried, ummm, I'm not sure actually, I think it carries some climate measuring equipment, but don't quote me on that.

Lots of different oceanic studies looking a life forms in the cold waters of the southern ocean, in particular how they respond to temperature change and are adapted to cold climates. Actually a lot of the science here is related to climate change and trying to create models that will predict how the world will look as it heats up. Global warming is accepted here as a reality well under way, not as a matter of political debate as in some other circles. Actually the implications and ramifications are pretty amazing, from increases in Alaskan storms and how that influences the birth of super-icebergs like B-15, to the collapse of the West Antarctic Ice Sheet, as happened the last time the world got warm. B-15 you might recall was that ginormous berg that was several times the size of Rhode Island. It hung around McMurdo Sound for awhile and made life difficult here for several years, not letting the sea ice blow out and the ships in to station, or the penguins to open water for feeding. Thankfully B-15 has drifted away a bit this year and we all hope the sea ice will blow out for the first time in 6 years.

Anyway, there is lots more science about all sorts of things, much of it simple base line data stuff about critters and land (or ice) forms and weather that would be common knowledge or easily found in any encyclopedia anywhere else in the world, but is still unknown here in Antarctica. Ohh, and meteorites, there are meteorite hunters who scour the ice all over the continent looking for rocks. Because when 98% of the continent is covered with ice, if you find a lonely rock just sitting there with nothing else around, it is probably a meteorite, and it sticks out like a sore thumb. A sore thumb surrounded by a thousand kilometers of blank whiteness.

The main lab here at Mac Town is called Crary Lab; at the time it was built about 15 years ago it was the most expensive building in the world per square foot. I don't know what has since past it, but it is a cool place. There is an aquarium where several unique species of fish are held, a seismographer for measuring earth quakes that jiggles when a large truck drives by or someone slams a door too hard, there is a room for slicing rock samples and analyzing them microscopically, there are neutrino whatcha-gizmos and sediment squishers and super-magno-radio-gramographer-saurases and all kinds of stuff too sophisticated for the like of me. And a real time camera focused on the lava dome of Mt. Erebus, which is cool to watch.

So like I said, you never know who the person sitting across the table eating beef stoganoff might be. (We eat lots of beef stroganoff here) Most beakers (our name for science grantees) are unpretentious and hard working and excited to talk about their research. And most folks here are keen to hear about it, lot of nerds that we are. And with at least 2 or 3 science lectures per week offered either in Crary or in the Galley, we are fortunate to get the low-down straight from the horses mouth, so to speak. And it helps to feel connected to the science and hear the thanks of the grantees who come down for a week or a month or 3 months for their projects and leave. There time is so limited and the expense of their time and research so great and the season so short, not a moment is lost to cooking or doing dishes or cleaning or fixing stuff or anything else that might take away from their focus on research. That is why we are here, and while I never thought I'd need the praise of those scientists to feel gratified about my work (I take pride in my clean toilets without needing anyone else to say so, thank you very much), it does help keep morale up, to feel more connected to the greater mission and less connected to mop buckets and garbage bins.

Mo' foto

2006-12-26T23:53:00.000-07:00

What ya'll have been waiting for, right? Good up close penguin pics. Yes they are cute, no I don't get to see them all the time. I have had three penguin sightings in the time I have been here, and two of those were on the some day with the same animals. Ya want National Geographic Antarctica, go to Palmer Station on the other side of the continent. They have penguins and seals and orcas coming out of their ears. Round here we have ice and rock and skua's.

This is a skua. Does the pictue make it look gigantic? Good, because it is! A wingspan of about 5 feet or so feels like 12 when it is bearing down on you, intent on investigating if you have anything edible on your person. A huge hooked beak, and overall fierce attidue make them one of the hazards of Antarctic life and the subject of many safety meetings.

Mistletoe, naturally. One of many decorations at the holiday party we had in the heavy equipment barn. No, it didn't work...

Me nearing the top, yes I did beat the guy behind me, by all of 7 seconds. Notice the ice forming on the beard; it was cold, well below zero windchill. As for the beard, I entered a beard growing contest and judging is New Years Eve. Yes there will be photos of that.

A view from near the top of Observation Hill as the race began.

Penguins for Christmas

2006-12-24T20:19:00.000-07:00

I awoke this Christmas morning in a snow cave on the Ice Shelf about 5 miles from the station. I had led a camping trip out for the evening and we enjoyed beatiful weather that night, though this morning when I crawled out of my cave, the clouds had rolled in and created a flat white light that allowed for aproximatly zero depth perception. Walking into snow pits and stumbling around in the powder, we got underway back to station in time for the Ob Hill Up Hill, a race from the road up to the top of Observation Hill. I am ashamed to say I did not win, as the winning time was 7:44 to make the climb and I did only a respectable 9:20 to take 5th place. Photos to come. The real excitement however came yesterday afternoon when word ran through the galley that 10 penguins were down at Hut Point. I grabbed my jacket and camera and headed down there, where there were not only penguns, but three seals as well. So I got to hang out and watch the penguins hop and waddle around for awhile, and then on the hike out to the camp site, saw one of them at close range, about 20 feet away and sqwaking at as when we sqwaked at him.

LC-130 at Williams Field, so named for a Sea-Bee in the 50's that plunged through the sea ice while driving a D-8 Catapillar.

The row of 11 20,000 gallon fuel tanks at the ski-way.

Beneath the wing of an LC-130 Hercules, the planes that, ski equiped, make the run between McMurdo Station and South Pole with personel, equipment, food, and fuel. During peak operations up to 7 flights a day make the run, as well as inumerable flights of DC-3's and Twin Otters and helicopters and the odd C-17 Globemaster. This means lots of air operations and lots of fuel needed, so last week I went out and volunteered a few hours with the fuel operators and got to learn how one of these big beasts gets gassed up.

More later, Blogger is being finicky right now...

The fuzz

2006-12-12T23:49:00.000-07:00

So Gurg asks a good question: what sort of weapons do we have on station and how are we policed? Well, contrary to the movie "The Thing", which insinuates that we have flame throwers and machine guns hidden away somewhere, we have only one gun. Or rather, the station manager for the National Science Foundation has the gun. But no bullets. Those are held by his deputy in a seperate location. The director has been deputized as a special US Marshal, or so he informed us upon our arrival briefing. In reality I think he has just seen the movie "Tombstone" a few dozen times to many. But I know a guy who knows a guy who has actually seen the gun, and just sitting in a desk drawer in the guy's office amongst paper clips and ballpoint pens. Apparently it is some sort of standard issue side arm, not the gold plated revolver we had imagined. So that is how we are "policed", oficially. It is rare for such measures to be needed though, the only story I can think of is the winter-over who went skipping through the Galley singing Mary Had a Little Lamb and hitting coworkers on the head with a hammer. Then there is the one about the dinning attendant who showed up to work naked but for her apron. She was promptly fired, but then she suprised them by hiding out on Observation Hill outside of town and then sneaking around between friends rooms being sheltered so as to miss the flight that was to take her off the ice. Naturally she was eventually caught, as is bound to happen in such a small community, but these are the stuff of legends. Although with only one gun and it with ammon stored elsewhere, we may be in dire straights if the Kiwis at the New Zealand base ever invade. At least we have them out numbered: 1094 to 97.

Pegasus

2006-12-08T23:44:00.000-07:00

So because the sea ice is rapidly melting (it is a seasonal thing, not so much the global warming thing, that is apparent else where), the trail out to the historic hut at Cape Evans is closed to recreational travel, therefor the rec department has been offering trips onto the permanant ice shelf where a C-121 Super Constellation (largish cargo plane) crashed in 1970. Coming in on final approach past the point of safe return for fuel to get back to New Zealand, the crew could see the storm coming from across the sound and lost visual of the runway moments before landing. They circled, hoping for a break in the weather until fuel forced them down on an instrument approach. They might have landed well in spite of all that had not snow drifted across the runway during the storm, breaking off their front landing gear and causing the plane to skid and slide and shear off one wing and both propellers. But no fatalities and only minor injuries. If course they were now in a wrecked plane in the middle of the ice shelf in a white out storm, but eventually theu were found and rescued. Later the plane was drug about a mile away from the airfield, as the commander on site thought it bad for morale to have a wrecked plane sitting at the edge of the runway. Now the recreation department offers trips out to the plane where people can crawl about on the wreckage and slide down the snow banks on the fuselage.

Incidentally, the name of the plane was Pegasus.

Wedge

2006-12-04T02:23:00.000-07:00

That is, a simple tool. AKA this guy. Here from MSNBC to do a piece on environmental studies and global warming (yes, it is very real) he is also doing a travelogue and his first piece a few days ago got him in hot water around station, and very nearly his ass kicked and then properly shunned. But he has more or less come around and stopped publishing crap, so I guess he's alright. That and he bought me a beer at Scott Base the other day after I chewed his ass for awhile. Anyway, his current update is on recreation on station, with a description and photos of the rugby team and Skirt Party. And there is a good slideshow that shows a fair bit of station life.

Morale Boost

2006-11-29T01:46:00.000-07:00

So the post-holiday bump in morale didn't last as long as hoped for, so I'm going to try and recapture some of that goodness here in photo form.

Running across the sea ice for the Turkey Trot 5k, Ice Runway in the background.

Core samples and analysis equipment at the field site from the ANDRILL tour.

Glory shot next to a really big drill. If not for the shiny new hard hat you might think I was a driller and not a janitor.

Don't I keep lovely company down here? These two, Maria and Taryn are two good friends that go along way to maintaining sanity on a harsh continent. As for the scruffy look, I entered the beard growing contest, so will have to endure some grungy looking photos until IceStock and the judging around New Years.

Turkey Stand-Down

2006-11-25T22:16:00.000-07:00

AKA Thanksgiving.

We celebrate ours on a day more convientant to Raytheon and the National Science Foundation, so instead of the normal one day off, this weekend we had two, with Thanksgiving dinner (Turkey Stand Down) on Saturday, after a 5k Turkey Trot Fun Run from the Chapel down to the ice runway and back.

Also went skiing, then had a tremendous feed put on by the Galley, turkey, pumpkin pie, the whole nine yards, with plenty of wine, but not so much champagne. I tried to remedy this for my part by mixing savigon blanc with Sprite for that bubbly effect, but the results were not sufficent to win many converts. Then after supper we had a block party in my dorm, two halls over. The fellow that is in charge of the green house brought a bag of fresh mint and we made mojitos, which were a hit. One astute commentator said it was likley more people got mojitos than flu shots when the clinic set those up for free as well.

Today I slept in and had a leisurly bruch; it was wonderful having two amazing meals back to back like that. Then I won a drawing for a trip out to the ANDRILL drilling site, where scientists are drilling through the ice shelf and past the sea water below to get the first mineral cores of Antarctica dating backl millions of years. You could say that today I was one of the first pairs of eyes ever to see roack that old (about 3.5 million years) come from Antarctica. And then after supper tonight is a movie being screened by guest grantee artist Werner Herzog, the famous movie director, who gave us the world public premeir of his newest film, Rescue Dawn.

So in short, the long (two day) weekend has been wonderfully refreshing and I for one will be in a better state when it is time to again put mop to floor and kick mud-season ass. Because it has now gone above the freezing point for the first time in about 9 months and we are living in a dirt town now

Hey, in this shot it looks like I am winning the race. Never mind the 20 or so people in front of me.

Running the 5k on the sea ice.

Happy Camper

2006-11-15T16:18:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while, we get a "Morale Trip", in NSF-speak. We call 'em boondoggles. A trip on a helo to Camp Royds, dive tending a sea ice hole, sea ice training, or more comonl Happy Camper School, aka Snowcraft and Survival School. Well, on monday my name came out of the hat and tuesday morning I was in class learning about cold injuries and prevention before heading out to Snow Mound City on the Ice Shelf. We spent two days learning how to set up the Scott tents, build ice walls and snow caves and survival trenches, set up stoves and melt snow, use the VHF and HF radios (we actually called South Pole Station on HAM radio to get a weather forecast just for practise. It was -42 C with 30 knot winds), and search for a missing companion in condition 1 (simulated by puting a bucket over our heads and not being alllowed to speak as we tried to move as a team out of the fish hut and across the ice to the out house).

That night I slept in a Qunizy, a snow cave made by piling our gear and then heaping snow on top of the pile about a meter thick, and then hollowing it out. Our was styling, so big on the inside you could have a dance party and with an arch over the entry way built from carved snow blocks. Anyway, it was alot of fun and some good training. It is required for parties going into the deep field or just leaving station more than a few miles, but for those of us whose jobs won't take us to scu exotic locals, we get the training when space in the class comes up at the last minute, as part of the whole morale treatment. And it worked, I can feel my morale increasing as I write this.

Eating dehydrate beef stoganoff in the snow kitchen

Our Scott tents set up, with hauling sleds in the fore ground and bamboo poles to the side. We had to set these flags between shelters and the kitchen and the latrine, in case of a white out.

Penguin!!!

2006-11-11T23:43:00.000-07:00

I saw my first penguin last night. I have been leading recreation trips to Cape Evans, about 15 miles from the station over the sea ice, in an effort both to get of station for a few precious hours once in a while, and also in the hope of seeing penguins. I was on my way out last night on just such a trip, when we saw a little Adeladie penguin right outside the station. I mean, so close, you could throw a rock from the waste water treatment plant and hit him. Not that I recomend that, being against the Antarctic Conservation Treaty and all, the NSF looks down on that sort of behavior. But it was funny, to be going all that way out on the ice looking and finding one so close to town, the drunko's in the bar could staggar down to oogle.

The helipad is in the background, and those orange pylons are there because he is on the road to the ice runway. So why did the penguin cross the road? To avoid being run over by the big-ass truck barreling down on him.

Antarctic Sun

2006-11-06T01:24:00.000-07:00

I saw my first skua today. They are a large (huge!) bird that scavenge on seal afterbirth, penguin eggs, and McMurdo garbage. I've heard stories of skuas swooping down and plucking the unguarded sandwhich from a persons hand walking from building to building. Some unscrupulous persons have even been known to duck tape a piece of bread unto the back of the hood of a friends parka, only to be dive bombed by a squadron of fierce, 4 foot wingspanned, hooked beak menaces when that person flps up their hood when going outside.

The scavenging nature of the skua has lent itself to popular usage among McMurdites as both a noun and a verb, as well as an adjective. I was always hazy on adverbs, but it may well find use there as well. To skua somethig is to find it in a community area designated for skua, that is unwanted items such as alarm clocks, shoes, bath robes, shampoo, books, silly costumes, outdated travel magazines, half consumed bottles of wine, etc. Most ofter things are left be residents leaving for another station or redeployment back to the World who are over their weight limit or other wise have no need for a giant paper mache palm tree back home. Lucky for me, as a janitor I have early access to most in coming skua and often get oick of the litter. Really it would be possible to come down with little more than a carry on bag and outfit oneself completly in skua. More than one person has done it anyway.

We are in the middle of a warm spell, 23 degrees above this afternoon and the heat was oppressive. Snow is sublimating off the roads at a disturbing rate, yeilding mud where a week ago was snow and ice. Unlike snow and ice, mud does not evaporate when tracked indoors on a freshly mopped floor.

The building I live in has holes in the roof. Counter intuitivly, this is not a problem in the winter when fine particles of snow blow in the holes and sit undisturbed in the crawl space. The problem comes round mid november when it warms up and this snow melts, through the roof tiles and onto my bed, as it is now. I have an elaborate hammock of garbage bags and paper towels in place now, and an even more elaborate plan to reroute the leak in mind.

Oh, and this friday I'll start my first full radio show as a DJ for 104.5 ICE Radio. I play every other friday from 8-10 pm and my show is "Coconut Telegraph: Music from those little lattitudes, for a warmer state of mind" I'll play salsa, merenge, tango, and of course lots of Jimmy Buffett.

Lastly, an interesting artical ran in the Antarctic Sun, the newspaper here on station that is also circulated in class rooms around the world. Check out the news paper here, with an interesting artical on page 12 here.

Search and Rescue Tryouts

2006-11-02T23:55:00.000-07:00

I was selected to try out for the Search and Rescue team down here, so on thursday go to go out and play in the snow.

Pictures of toilets and broom closets

2006-10-27T02:10:00.000-07:00

Just kidding. Although in reality, I see more of that than I do of these scenes I actually am posting. But that isn't why a person goes to Antarctica is it?

A Wedell seal laying out on the sea ice just outside the station. He looks dead, though he is just sleeping, with frost forming on his windward side.

A C-130 Hercules and what I believe is a Twin Otter, both on skis out on the sea ice runway. I get to go out there every few weeks and clean the toilets in Ice Town, as the airport is known.

The final sunset of the season. It went down for only a few moments at 12:43 am on October 23rd and won't set again until some time in Feb, just circling round and round overhead till then.

Mt Erebus, with Castle Rock in the middle ground. We can't see Erebus from the station, so anytime you get a glimpse over the ridge, it just jumps out at you, BAM! When it isn't hiding in cloud and mist. Kinda like a ninja in that way...

Biscuit day

2006-10-24T00:43:00.000-07:00

Today is wendsday, biscuit day. And yet at the 10 o'clock break, no biscuits were to be found! Just like that, morale on station suffers a heavy blow. By conditioning the people here to simple joys and routines, life is made easier, except when those joys and routines are interupted by the reality that we are at the ass end of the second longest supply chain on earth (the longest being either South Pole station of one of the remote field camps). Even more crucial to station morale than biscuits however, is Frosty Boy, the soft serve ice cream machine. When Frosty Boy goes down, tempers flare and people get edgy. Thankfully I am not yet dependant on Frosty boy for my fix, so my concern is mostly for my mates on station.

It is far to easy to not write much when pictures are so easy. But of course it is the story and experiences behind these pictures that matters more, otherwise we could all sit at home and watch life on tv. In a way, life here is quite easy, in that meals are prepared for you and ready at predictable times, the place is cleaned for you (by me, actually), transportation is readily available, the gym is open 24 hours a day, classes, movie rentals, and sports leagues are all free. But then again, in order to go outside for more than 5 minutes at a time, you must dress in at least 3 or 4 layers of warm clothes, wear gloves and mittens and goggles and boots and hats and so on and still face the wind that could yield frost bitten cheeks or noses in just a few minutes. So life is at the same time easier and vastly harder here. It is arranged that way on purpose, as a matter of cost effectiveness. The man hours involved if each scientist here had to clean, cook, or otherwise fend for themselves in any way shape or form is not cost effective given the short time frame of the workable Antarctic season. Every waking moment, more or less, is devoted to their research. So that is why we are here, more or less. And to support the Air Force troops stationed here. Gotta be ready in case those penguins decide to ally themselves with the terrorists.

Today was a nice day, beautiful and sunny, if a tad windy. I got to go out and clean the toilets at the little collection of huts we call Ice Town, out by the sea ice runway. The whole place will be skidded over to the permanent ice shelf once the sea ice goes out, and air operations will resume there. From the ice runway you can see Mt. Erebus, clear as ever today, and on the walk back (we had missed our shuttle ride), I saw a seal, just lying on the ice sleeping. One might easily be forgiven for thinking him dead, the way he lay there unmoving in the wind, a thin layer of hoar frost forming on his weather side. A few days ago a seal was out on the runway and firefighters had to chase him away with sticks so the plane could land. The Antarctic Treaty doesn’t apply when a C-17 cargo plane is on final approach.

Right now we have a few C-130's and some smaller planes parked on the runway waiting for the weather to break at the south pole to bring in the summer team. The poor bastards down there have been holed up since at least last February, is not longer, and the relief team can’t get in until it warms up to 55 degrees below zero. So far it hasn’t done that and McMurdo station is steadily accumulating summer Polies that are getting antsy waiting for their flight that is optimistically scheduled day after day and then cancelled each morning. They don’t mind too much staying around here, except they are sleeping as many as 5-7 per room and living out of their carry on bags, checked luggage having been put on pallets a week ago in a fit of optimism. We are ready for them to go, however, as they clog up the chow line, there being over 1000 people on station now.

Can't seem to upload photo's right now, will try again later.

Friday...sort of

2006-10-20T21:53:00.000-07:00

Well, I suppose to most of you reading this, it is friday. That is what the computer wants you to believe, at any rate. But here on the continant, it is saturday, my last day of work this week before sunday, my only day off. So it is my friday too... kinda.

Anyway, there has been alot going on these past days, and indeed this whole last week seems to have sped by. Science lectures, toilet scrubbing, hiking, and floor mopping, all combine to make the time pass quickley. I hope to write more later, but for now some pictures will have to do, since I have laundry running and need a shower before going to the film festival at 8:30 and the live band playing at the bar at 10:30. Tommorrow is a trip out to Cape Evans, where Scott's Hut from the 1912 expedition to the south pole is. If the weather holds I'll make a trip out there tommorrow.

Anyway, here are some pictures from last weekends hike to Castle Rock.

That is Castle Rock in the distance, the hike out is about 3 miles from Mac town over the hills and glacier.

From the shoulder of Castle Rock, Mt. Erebus in the background, at 13,700 feet the southern most active volcano in the world, and only a few miles from McMurdo. No, I'm not allowed to climb it....

Looking north over the Ross Sea.

Cosmic Bowling and Walking to New Zealand

2006-10-13T00:25:00.000-07:00

Went bowling on wendsday after work, we have a little 2 lane alley in the basement of a quanset hut left over from the 60's. The lanes are a tad wobbly, but what can you really ask for?

Last night a few of us walked to New Zealand, and by that I mean the New Zealand base for drinks. Every Thursday they host American Night, during which we are allowed to visit their base and drink their beer, differant brands than our own. During the rest of the week we are politely requested not to bother them. It was a good time, with fun had by all, though actual Kiwis are often in short supply, as many tend to hole up in their rooms when the Americans invade.

Walking to the Kiwi base.

The Kiwi base right on the edge of the ice sheet. Much smaller than McMurdo.

That sign is totally lying, the population is al least 40 or 50.

Drinking with the kiwis. Actually these are all Americans, but we are definatly at the New Zealander's base, and there are kiwis around, I swear.

Sunday Funday

2006-10-07T18:34:00.000-07:00

Yea, the weekend is here. All one day of it. But no matter, last night was an indie rock dance party at the bar and this morning was brunch, with corn beef hash on one side, salmon sashimi with lox ands capers on another, and between them, chicken catcitori and biscuits with sausage gravy. Even more exciting than all that however was the flight that came in yesterday: they brought freshies! The first fresh oranges, apples, bannanas, and produce that the winter fly-ins have had in almost 6 weeks.

So, since today is my day off I had planned to go for a hike off the base. Unfortunatly, while yesterday was sunny and calm, a down right balmy 7 degrees above, today was a bit cooler, about 31 degrees below zero and windy. So I didn't make it more than about a mile or so down the trail before concern about the fate of my nose made me turn around and head back. That's ok, though, some friends and I are planning a climb of Castle Rock for next week, about a 6 mile hike and then this thursday is American Night at the New Zealand base a few miles away, so I may ski over there and have a few pints with the Kiwis.

This afternoon there are swing dance lessons at the bar and a science lecture in the Galley tonight. Never a dull moment.

See, it was nice yesterday, all sunny and warm...

But today, a tad chilly. This was right before my camera froze. Wishing to avoid its' fate, I turned around and headed back.

Operation Deep Freeze 2006-2007

2006-10-04T21:51:00.000-07:00

Well, I made it. First try on the first flight of the main body season. Here are a few pictures I've taken so far. More, ever so much more to come.

Extreme Cold Weather clothing issue in Christchurch

Pre-flight briefing

On board the cargo plane down to the ice, a C-17 flown by the Air National Guard

My first view of the continent from the air, HOLY SHIT!!!

Unloading from the C-17 on the sea ice runway. A balmy 1 degree above zero.

Assasination and attempted kidnapping

2006-09-30T21:12:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I learned that someone I had met in Haiti, a Community Human Rights Council leader for Gran Ravine, was assasinated on his way home from a meeting with AUMOHD, the human rights outfit I worked with down there. Mr. Bruner was an advocate for the people of Gran Ravine, who have suffered repeated massacres at the hands of the "Little Machete Army" (Lame Timachet), politically motivated and financed thugs and assasins who have shot, killed, and wounded scores of people and burned hundreds of homes. Mr. Bruner himself was a resident of Gran Ravine and was shot twice in sucessive attacks. A few months ago he held a press confrence denouncing the attackers by name and calling for justice and their arrest. On monday last week he held another press confrence. On thursday he was killed.

Now the head lawyer and president of AUMOHD, Evel Fanfan, the man I lived and worked with for 6 weeks in Haiti, has gone on the air and denounced his attackers and those complicit in the violence, including the U.N. "peacekeepers" who propigate the violence and withhold justice. Now he is under attack and in danger for his life. His son was nearly kidnapped at school and he has been advised to go into hiding, though he remains determined to carry on the crusade for justice for those who have carried out the attacks and are well known for their attrocities in the community but who have not yet been taken into custody.

Now you know the score. What are you going to do?

Here is what I hope you do:

1) Sign the following petition addressed to the Chief of the Haitin Police, the head of the Human Rights section of the UN force, and other leaders within Haiti to bring justice to the people of Gran Ravine and Haiti at large and to protect the life of Attny Evel Fanfan.

2) Donate money to the cause, to provide vital infrastructure such as phone cards, electricity, gas, legal expenses, medical expenses, and so on. It is tax deductible and a new fiscal year, so please give; even a small donation of only $25 makes a big differance, it is those donations which are the lifeblood of our operation. You can click the link to donate through Google, which saves us money, or you can go to the website for more ways to donate.

3) Go to the HURAH website and learn more about how you can help by calling and writing to officials letting them know you are watching the case and expect them to do their job. Also learn how you can get involved in the role of accompanying these brave folks as they do their job, lessening the liklihood of attack while accompanied by international observers. This is what I did Jan-March of 2006. You can do it to, if even for only a week or two, even a couple of days. Contact Tom Luce at the website for more information, or get ahold of me for that matter. I'd go tommorrow if I could, but I'm in New Zealand right now and can't get away just yet.

All for the gumbo

2006-09-25T19:57:00.000-07:00

And the muffleta, bengeits, oyster po-boys, coffee with chicory, and bread pudding.

Why else would I leave Flagstaff a day and a half early and fly 1300 miles to spend 16 hours in New Orleans.

All about the food, but to be honest, I don't know if I can do it all in the limited time I have.

Tommorrow I'll fly back to Phoenix and then Wendsday on to Denver, Friday south to Oz and then, well, you know. Ice.

Was a busy last few weeks in Flagstaff before I left early this morning. So many people to see, things to do, good times to be had. Among them, a tango workshop on saturday and dance that night. Wave of the future I tell ya, that tango.

All in all, I was sad to leave Flagstaff, probably more so than in the dozen or so times I've left before. Leaving alot of great people behind. But adventure lies over the horizon, so full speed ahead.

Countdown

2006-09-17T08:39:00.000-07:00

14 days. Or is it 13? 15? I’m not really sure, since apparently I will lose a day somewhere over the southern pacific when we cross the international date line. But roughly two weeks is all that separates me from the southern hemisphere and then...Antarctica!

Yep, everything is in motion for me to deploy, first to Denver, then on to Christchurch, NZ via Los Angeles and Sydney. And after a few days in Oz, the big ice. It hasn’t quite registered fully that the day is upon me, like a little kid looking forward to Christmas for so long, when the day finally comes it is fails to fully register.

Sept. 22: BBQ and going away party
Sept. 25th: Fly to New Orleans and eat muffletta sandwich and beneits at the Café du Monde
Sept. 26th: In Phoenix, anybody around fancy a beer?
Sept. 27th: Fly to Denver for training
Sept. 29th: Fly to New Zealand for outfitting
October ?: Down to the ice
Feb/March?: Return from the ice.

Oh yeah, and the big question, the one that inspires slack jaws and guffaws in every new acquaintance: what am I doing there?

I’m a janitor.

Guardian of Democracy

2006-09-13T11:04:00.000-07:00

Yep, it says that on my resume. Guardian of Democracy. Kinda has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think? Really I am just sitting here, doing some home work for an online nutrition class I’m taking, reading my book, typing this blog entry, and helping the occasional dysfunctional voter cast their ballot. This year I have been honored with the position of elections inspector, meaning that I am responsible for the entire operations of my precinct. Sounds intimidating, and for a general election in November it might be, but for this primary it has hardly been a deluge of voters. Mostly a slight trickle with an occasional splash. I have endured complaints about the location of the poll site, the lack of signage, the excess of sign age, and the requirement to show id at the poll. It is this last one that gets me, as it was voted on and enacted by the ever brilliant voters in Arizona last election and now people piss and moan when they are inconvienced by the fact that they haven’t lived at the address listed on their driver’s licence in ten years and can’t vote a normal ballot. I want to shout at them that this is what they get for enacting a stupid, poorly written, knee jerk political solution to a problem that didn’t exist. And then the complaints about not being able to find the site. Sorry, the 11 different signs posted around the building, the written notice, the addresses in the paper, all this was not enough for you to wander in here and scrawl your mark next to your candidate of choice? I guess I am a bit crotchety some times, but part of me believes you must demonstrate a very small measure of intelligence before you deserve to vote. But I don’t let that sentiment affect the exercise of my duties, by which I mean it is my job to help everyone, idiot or genius, who managed to get registered do their part for democracy. At the break neck pace of about 59 voters in the last seven and a half hours. Yep, everybody has something to say about government and politics, yet we are expecting a 25% voter turn out this go round. I say again, you that do not exercise your rights and take part in this thing we do, this governance of our country can go straight to hell and don’t even think of complaining about the condition of the roads on the way there or the management upon arrival. Why shoot, in Haiti I saw people by the thousands wait for hours in the hot sun having walked miles through a war zone to cast their ballots. Failure to appreciate and exercise the rights we have is an inexcusable offense in my eyes, made worse by fact that millions of others around the world would at this moment die for the chance to do what some lazy pieces of dung in this country haven’t the interest or inclination to bother with.

OK, I’ll give the soap box a rest for now.

Demolition Derby

2006-09-06T14:35:00.000-07:00

I went to the county fair this weekend, or more specifically I went to the demolition derby. Two days of cars smashing into each other tournament style, last one running wins. It was a helluva good time, and the grand finale was followed by an exhibition of derby ball, the first ever such event held anywhere, ever. Two blind guys (not blind folded but actually blind) were led to two cars in the field and guided by sighted spotters in communication with radio headsets in trying to run a giant metal soccer ball between the goal posts, consisting of wrecked cars. But it wasn’t just two blind guys playing derby ball, they had to do it in the midst of other cars also playing the soccer/demolition derby. It was an idea that I am certain sounded great on a napkin in a bar, but in reality it was less than spectacular. But as the announcer said, I can tell my grand kids some day that I was there at the first ever derby ball event.

I also went to check out the livestock at the fair, and yesterday morning went to the 4-H Junior Livestock Auction with the intention of perhaps buying a critter and taking it home for a Labor Day BBQ that afternoon. Maybe a goat or a lamb or a pig. Even a goose or some rabbits. But this was no ordinary livestock auction, it was more a charity sale for the 4-H kids, and animals sold for outrageous prices. For example, three rabbits sold for $95 each and a 30 pound goose sold for $340. Swine, beef, lamb, and goats all went for unbelievable prices, so I came home empty handed. But the bbq must go on, so I pulled a three foot long pork tenderloin out of the freeze that I had been saving for a special occasion and cooked that bad boy up: toasting the end of summer.

Trouble in Haiti

2006-08-20T15:39:00.000-07:00

While I was wandering about the mountains in Wyoming, trouble was afoot in Haiti.

For 5 months since the election of Rene Preval as president in a landmark election, things were improving ever so slowly. Violence and kidnapping were down, the resistance in Cite Solei was diminished, and political prisoners were slowly being freed. On the night of July 6th a second massacre in the neighborhood of Gran Ravine resulted in 21 dead, 5 wounded, 5 dissapeared, and 40 homes torched.

The investigation and prosecution of those responsible is underway, I won't go into the details here. AUMOHD, the human rights organization I worked with for 6 weeks this spring is leading the charge in moving the case forward and helping the surviving members of the community. In addition, the longtime work of AUMOHD in freeing illegally held political prisoners goes on, with 2006 being the most succesful year to date at over 50 releases gained and the year not yet over. New projects online include the AVJ (Neighborhood Assembly of Jacquet), an organiztion of former street kids who are doing community development work in the poor neighborhoods of Port-au-Prince, and ongoing support of our 50 scholarship students enrolled in Cite Solei, the poorest neighborhood in the poorest country in the western hemisphere.

Now the hook: it is a new fiscal year and so time to hit up the donor base for continued support. Many of you who read this blog also tuned in to my other blog while I was in Haiti (Deye Mon Nan) and in doing so were moved to contribute. Can I move you again? We are looking for donations of $25. By getting more people contributing at the $25 level, reasonable by any standard, we can show large grant making organizations the deep level of commitment needed to bring in larger funds. And hey, did you need a reminder that only $4 can send a kid to school for a month in Haiti? Remember, every penny donated goes to pay for things like gas to drive to the prisons and court houses and other actual operating expenses in Haiti.

Heck, $25 to help get innocent men, women and children out of jail, into school, and seek justice for those who commit massacres, violence, and corruption? Why that's a bargain at any price, but for only $25 per month ($2.08 per month, or 48 cents per week)? Sign me up! Oh, wait. I've already donated. Three times. Now it is your turn, please.

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Off the trail, on the road, and home

2006-08-15T20:06:00.000-07:00

Lightning illuminates the hills outside of town and the smell of fresh rain is on the air. It is monsoon time here in Flagstaff.

I am home again, and by that I mean Flagstaff. The Homestead is still uninhabitable, the once orange “Condemed” sign has faded to grey as the house sits empty with a gaping hole in the roof. Low level warfare is underway between the city, the contractor, and other interested parties, not the least of which is me. I was told before I left that I’d have a house when I returned in August. Now here I be with no house and little hope for one any time soon.

I do however have a roof over my head, and it is considerably bigger than the nylon one I have had o’er head the last 28 days in the field. There were 12 of them, 16-17 years old, with very differant backgrounds. Challenging as any students I’ve ever had before, but with equally high outcomes in the end. It were’nt easy though, took every trick in the book and then some. Since I was the lucky one who hiked an extra 26 miles to evac two students for non-med reasons, I set the course record for most miles covered at 151. One the super cool side, the other instructors and I got to climb Gannett Peak, the highest in Wyoming at 13,804 and fully glaciated while the students were on independant small group expeditions away from instructors for 4 days.

I took a new route home from Lander, through Utah, a state I have largly neglected for too long. Turns out it is quite beatiful and geographically diverse; I camped out near the Big Rock Candy Mountain.

Lots of other exciting, cool, and beatiful things happened, and now I am home in Flagstaff for a month and a half to two months, assuming everything is still on track for the big ice.

Sunset

2006-07-11T16:48:00.000-07:00

Blog and journal both suffer some when things of import go on. It is that tendency of mine to neglect the recording of the thing in favor of the living of the thing. Cognitively I know that the two are not mutually exclusive, in fact by acting as a sounding board and forum, either public or private respectively, writing can complement living. But knowing the path and walking the path, they are two different things, now ain’t they?

The wedding of Melissa and Jarrett was, well it was the sort of thing that might cause a weak minded soul to neglect his writing because he didn’t know how to express himself properly in words. I suppose tears of many origins are normal when a best friend gets married, and I was no exception. Still forming words to attend the images and memories. A wise counselor once advised me to keep for myself only some few precious memories, to not be too quick to give away all my treasures and be ever planning how to tell the story.

A friend of mine died recently. I considered keeping this one quiet too, but concluded that her story is not mine to hoard, nor is the grieving, nor is the celebration of her life. Kristen Yoder and her brother Dustin, along with a third climbing partner died a little over a week ago when they fell into a crevasse climbing in the Peruvian Andes. They were good climbers all, experienced and safe, and possessed of good judgment. That much is certain. In such a incident it is common to jump to conclusions about what may have led to the accident, and I say this to defend their memory against those who might, in jumping to conclusions slander those who can no longer defend themselves. Kristen was a ray of sunshine, always quick to smile and always a joy to be around. She will be missed, along with her brother, both decent people who made the world around them better.

I’m in Lander right now, preparing for a NOLS course, tomorrow I’ll be briefed and meet my co-leads and learn the route. Glad to be going into the field again, I’m ashamed to say I haven’t been on a multi-day trip since my last course a year ago. The drive to get here has been long, but quite pretty. Arizona to New Mexico, north through Colorado and into Nebraska to visit family and the ranch, then west through Wyoming. Missed the New Belgium brewery in Ft. Collins, but maybe on the way home. Did stop at the Sierra Trading Post outlet store in Cheyenne and had a case of gear-envy at all the shiny new outdoor gear at ridiculous prices.

I guess I’ll stop there for now. Maybe I’ll get another post up before I hit the field for a month, maybe I won’t. For now I’m going up on the roof to watch the sun set.

Self improvement through tango

2006-06-25T20:09:00.000-07:00

It was one of my resolutions for this year, to learn to tango. Then I was told that it takes 10 years to learn tango. Conflicts in space-time theory aside, I signed up for a tango workshop this weekend.

The instructor was about what you might expect a world famous dancer to be like; eccentric, scattered, wild-eyed, and frequently incomprehensible. None the less, by the end of the work shop, he had most of us at least proficient enough that when an occasional tango song is played, we'll no longer have to leave the dance floor in shame. Now we can wait until after the song to leave the dance floor in shame.

If any body was watching CBS channel 5 in Phoenix last night, you might have seen me, I gave two reporters a tour of Oak Creek Canyon and the north side of the Brin's Fire yesterday. Search and Rescue was called out to man road blocks and escort residents through the restricted areas and someone was needed to accompany the journalists, so I got the assignment. Then again, the piece may not have even made it on air, there really wasn't much for them to film other than me driving them through the canyon and some smokey shots of the creek. I was under explicit orders not to let them out of the vehicle, but even if they had been able, that sector of the fire was pretty quite.

Hitting the road on Friday, first Sante Fe, then Colorado, Neraska, and Wyoming. I'll miss Flag for sure, but the horizon, she's a callin' me...

People watching

2006-06-15T18:05:00.000-07:00

The clouds are building overhead and the band has just finished their second number, a chamber music group playing in the town square where I sit drinking my coffee and watching the myriad of people sitting, walking, playing, talking...

Actually, I'm waiting. Any minute now, the rain is going to cut loose and pour down in great sheets. Most of the people watching here with me in the square will take off scrambling for cover, but I'll sit here listening to the music (the band will keep playing of course, for the die hards in the crowd), drinking my coffee, and smiling. Because I know in a minute or so the pretty girl I met last night in this very square will come walking by and I'll wave and she'll smile and we might even dance a dance in the warm summer rain before I ask her out and get her phone number, which I was too nervous to ask for last night. Yep, any minute now...

In the mean time, there is a pack of kids running hither and thither, between cellos and speakers and piccalo players. A woman pushing a baby stroller that looks as though it was engineered by NASA as part of the Mars Rover mission stops and listens for a bit. She must be from out of town. Speaking of out of town, I saw the most Barbie-Doll looking gal I've ever laid eyes on downtown a day or so ago. Never have I seen such a thing on the streets of Flagstaff, I tell ya.

Over on the rocks transients with their faded backpacks; summer time in Flag is a popular spot on the transient circuit. And then there are the three elderly gray haired fellow that turn up at every live music venue in town. Pony Tail, who dances by himself to a rythm that only he knows, Mendocino, who fled a bad marriage in California to dance with the pretty college girls and mock the guys who refuse to dance, and Lazy Eye, who plays a mean jazz guitar every once-in-a-blue-moon.

Yep, lots to see and do and daydream in this middle size town of mine...