Rachael Cate: tough-girl feet are taking me places!

Grad School Gives Way Around the Bend: Dreaming Life in Real Time

2011-01-11T13:27:00.000-08:00

I can hardly believe that my second year of graduate school is half over. As usual, the time I've spent here seems both to span a much longer period than a year and a half, and it also feels like I just arrived yesterday at the same time. This paradoxical combination leaves me without words to describe my feelings often and at a loss when I struggle to explain to myself just how I feel about the experience, what it means to me, or piece it together into the story of "me." It's much easier, though, when I stop trying to do this and just accept the past and present (and future) for what they were, are, and might be. I am joyful. I'm celebrating life, and I feel incredibly lucky to be sharing my time here with such beautiful, loving and caring friends. I've had the good fortune to spend much time with my roommates over the past few months. They are dear to my heart, and we have made amazing memories together. I've been on weekend running trips to the beach, Thanksgiving ski cabin adventures, and holiday trips with my friend and roommate Katy, and I'm certain that I've found a friend in her to help me and motivate me to be the best that I can, all while we have an incredibly enjoyable fun time together in the process. Meeting her family was a beautiful experience for me, and all I can hope for is that I can be a good enough friend to her in return in order to honor the gift she's given me.

Katy and I jogging at the Oregon Coast near Newport

Loal Ocean Seafood Fisherman's Wives Stew: feast for two

I was a back-up dancer in the fall OSU drag show for my friend Thomas/"Varza"! It was an 80's workout theme. "Exercise your ass off!"

For Halloween we roommates (plus 1) where Spice girl Ninja Turtles in honor of our Tur-telle Team from Costa Rica ;) I was Posh-Michaelangelo

Ande and I enjoy dessert--and let it snow let it snow let it snow!

For Thanksgiving we headed out to a Forest Service cabin near Mt. Baily! Over 30 people came! We all built a kayak luge and had a jolly ol' time--even on the first night, when Katy and I arrived near the cabin around 10pm in the dark and a blizzard and weren't sure we were on the right trail. We decided to set up our tent where we were and wait it out til morning. We didn't realize we were only 150 meters from the cabin until a rescue party came out and found us. We decided to stay hunkered down, as we were already settled in and full of peppermint schnapps.

For Christmas, Katy and I both went to Moab to spend the holidays with her family! They were incredibly welcoming and we had a lovely time every day sleeping in, eating delicious food cooked by Katy's mom, going on hikes in canyon country and celebrating in town.

Moab Brewery

Moab

Delicate Arch, Arches National Park

Hidden Valley hike/run

Then it was time to head up to Park City Canyons resort and hit the slopes!

And we finished it off with some fabulous cross-country skiing. The whole trip was blissful, even despite a sore throat I incurred at the very end that caused me to miss the first couple of days back to work. Now we're planning to head out to Sun River near Bend, Oregon with our skis for another winter wonderland-filled weekend at a house some friends have rented there for the MLK holiday. I'm enjoying my last couple of seasons here in Corvallis for all they're worth, and I finally think I'm starting to experience them for what they are instead of just wishing I was done with grad school and looking toward the future constantly. I'm sure this is for many reasons, including my relaxed schedule due to my being almost done with my classes and thesis (!), my having found an amazing place full of love to live with beautiful friends and being able to take the time to appreciate and have adventures with them. I also credit more time do the things that I love to do that make my life feel more balances and me feel healthier: salsa lessons, reading yoga philosophy and doing yoga, studying French and sitting with the Corvallis Zen Circle for meditation. Not least of all, I'm very excited about the possibility that I'll land a job teaching in Europe (France or Spain) for next year. I haven't heard back from the Fulbright Committee yet, but I'm very hopeful. I do find it ironic, though, that it's just when my departure is in sight, when I have bright plans and graduation on the horizon, that my life here is starting feel that much sweeter. But I'm going to take it where I can get it, and just keep on smiling through the happiness, sadness and confusion of dreams lived out in real time. :)

Pura Vida and the Great Turtle Tour: Beginnings beginning all over again!

2010-08-26T14:50:00.000-07:00

Chronicles of the late summer: saying goodbye and staying on the in-between side...

Just before leaving for Costa Rica with my new roommate Katy, I had to say goodbye to my good friend Michelle, who left for Kazakhstan on August 16th. She's not sure how long she'll be gone, but the total Peace Corps program is more than two years. I'm already missing her so much! She's been one of the most important people in my life up to this point, she's been kind of like a role model and sister to me, and I think about her often. It was difficult to arrive back in Portland after my trip and go back up for a wedding party last weekend knowing she wouldn't be there. I feel her absence in my life so strongly now, I am often moved to tears. But her brave example continues to inspire me. I've been thinking about my own next move. I'm thinking Europe!

Opal Creek, Oregon-July

I went to the Oregon Country Fair with my new roommates, Ande and Katy. They're beautiful and inspiring, too. I moved in with them at the beginning of August, and we have 11 chickens in our backyard. I feel so lucky to be living in a supportive communal house with them this year.

Hiking with Katy and Dana at Iron Mountain, Cascade Mountains, Oregon

Goodbye Michelle! I love you! (of course we'll keep in touch by using Skype)

There were a few really nice hot days at the end of July. Wow...it's only the end of August now and I already feel like fall's here. Dreaming of heat...

Costa Rica:

This is the pool at Backpackers International hostel in San Jose where I arrived first and waited for Katy's flight the next day. I walked to a street fair and a bustling pedestrian thoroughfare. It's a big city, not especially clean-feeling, but comparable to most large Latin American cities I've visited before. The cathedral is pretty and the city has its charm.

The first day at the hostel, while I was waiting on Katy to arrive, I sat down with Dennis, the hostel's tourism guide, and created an extensive itinerary for us to follow on our journey, complete with bus times. I then promptly threw out the itinerary, after I met JB, Colin and Nicolas on the first night at the hostel (three guys from France traveling Costa Rica with the same travel plans and time frame as us girls and with whom I hit it off immediately), and we all decided to go to Turrialba in the mountains south of San Jose the next morning.

View from the bus

In Turrialba, we arrived in the afternoon and hit up the biological reserve, as it was open until 5pm. There were so many interesting plants, birds, and flowers, they likes of which I'd never seen before. It was a good choice!

A little photogenic run through the reserva biologica.

You can see smoke coming from the volcano at Turrialba just behind Nico. The French government had actually put out a no-travel warning to citizens because of the volcanic instability (which we didn't check until our second night at the cute little Herza Hostel on the corner), but it was fine for us! It did prevent us from being able to hike up to the crater rim as we had planned.

The time in Turrialba was beautiful. We got to spend plenty of quality time with our fantastic new friends, including a sunrise photo session for me and JB. The light was perfect for exploring the just-waking-up cute little Latin American mountain town. While Costa Rica felt similar to other Latin American countries I've visited in terms of language (of course), architecture, signs, roads, etc, the people and culture definitely have their own very unique attitudes and ways of life. I noticed how uncommonly friendly and cheery almost everyone we came across was to us visitors. Warm people. In Spanish: Una gente calida In French: Ils sont tres polis.

That day we visited the Mayan Archeological Reserve and site. It was unbelievable how old some of the ruins we saw were. So long ago...When that amount of time passes again, will there still be people..or anybody...who'll wonder about our own record through time?

JB, Nico, Coco

We found a vine and swung!

At night we went out salsa dancing. I had a lot of fun dancing with JB especially. A good dance can make a nice kind of magic.

On to Parismina! After Turrialba we took a fantastic rafting trip down the class 4 rapids of the Pacuare River and floated all the way to the Caribbean! We wanted to check out the Tortuguerro turtle and wildlife research station and reserve, but the official tour made it an expensive option. Instead, we made our way to the little coastal town of Parismina, which we had to take a boat to and which had dirt streets and was mostly all locals. We went out dancing there, too. We also met Crystal and David, a fun couple from California. Some of us went fishing, some of us had a small boat crash on our way into the Tortuguerro reserve and to the ATM there, and a few went on a nighttime tour and saw turtles laying eggs and lots of crocodile eyes looking out of the swamp. We all saw and heard the howler monkeys calling away. OOooooooOO!

The beach was not crowded, except for some locals

You only live once! Nico thought he'd test his luck in the alligator swamp, and he emerged unscathed. Coco juggled some coconuts to celebrate. Whee!

Even though everything always had sand in it, our private room in the beautiful beachside hotel ($10/person) where we stayed was thoroughly cleaned daily, so we still felt great sleeping in the comfy beds. This picture makes me dream of heat again...

Mono ("monkey") took us on a boat ride to Tortuguerro where we could withdraw cash. Everyone on either river bank seemed to know this guy. He's quite a character. Pura vida, cara picha!

Yes, that's me driving. We each got our turn. The local gals were just along for the ride.

Next, we took a boat back to the mainland and headed south to Cahuita, just north of Puerto Viejo. It was just like the typical picture of "paradise" that I have on file in my own head. The ocean was clear blue and--deceptively--calm. We rented our own cabin with the guys and had our own kitchen and music setup! It all felt perfect. Except...
When a rip tide seemed to come out of nowhere and start sucking me right out into the ocean! After about two minutes of furious swimming, I realized I was still getting further away from the shore. I had been able to stand, but with the sand getting swept out from under my feet I was just below standing height! I began to scream for help, and JB and Coco leaped from the shore to come rescue me. They pulled me back to safety. When they deposited me back in the sand, I was full of an incredible rush of adrenaline--and I felt extremely grateful to my friends. I love you guys!

Oh no! Because of a slight mishap involving a night out at the local bar, Katy lost her passport (or had it stolen?). So it was back to San Jose with the two of us while the guys headed down to camp out near Puerto Viejo. We split up for a few days. It was hard to say goodbye even for a little while! But we agreed to meet each other back at the Backpacker's in San Jose.

And Team Turtle Power was born! Hooray for Les Tur-telles!

But there was no stopping Katy and I. After a half-day jaunt to the embassy we headed straight away for a girls' trip to Montezuma and the Pacific Coast by bus and by boat (and another bus!).

Murals in Montezuma.

Go turtles go!

We stayed at an inexpensive little hostel right on the beach and got in some quality souvenir shopping time. We also booked a snorkeling tour, but rough waves that day caused a cancellation, so we made good use of time relaxing, running five miles to the national park and picking up trash on the way back.

Yay! Then we met up with the guys again, and they rented a car to drive us all to the mountains near Monteverde and the reserve there. The canopy ropes course was a blast.

Zip-lining!

On our way down to La Fortuna, the hot springs and the erupting volcano Arenal, we met a beautiful older woman hitchhiking back from her trip to retrieve medical plants in town. With a bright shining smile, she welcomed us into her cozy mountainside home full of flowers and chickens where she lives and works alone. The owner of the land (a gringo, she said) has promised her that she can stay there indefinitely, even if she becomes too ill to work. She struck me as a very brave and optimistic lady. And the fresh juice and chocolate bread she offered us were delicious and very welcome by our empty stomachs!

We arrived in La Fortuna just after dusk--just in time to see red lava flowing from Arenal! It seemed like a special and auspicious sign to herald our arrival and punctuate our journey. This place also brings back feelings of sadness for me--it's where we said goodbye.

One last supper! After Katy left for San Jose, we shared one last night together. I also met Lydie and Michel, from Switzerland. We wished we had met them sooner, too! I ended up catching a ride with them back to San Jose, as they were also leaving the next day. It was great getting to spent the last couple of evenings in such warm and fun company!

Back in Oregon...

I flew back to Portland feeling great sadness and missing my new friends very much. It's so hard to say goodbye knowing that there might be a great gulf of distance between us until our next meeting. But we're trying to keep in touch. I'm planning my next trip: France.

Luckily, I caught up with Steve and Cedar for their weekend plans and we drove down from Portland for an Oregon Coast camping trip! It helped keep my mind off of my goodbyes and got me re-oriented to my life here a bit.

This is the bar-cafe-country store on the Smith River, southern Oregon Coast

Our friend Michael Henry led us to some good singing with his banjo.

Cedar and me!

After picking chantrelle mushrooms in the local woods, we cooked 'em up and ate 'em! mmmm...

The lighthouse at sunset in the dunes reminds me of memories from other times I've been to the Oregon Coast, the places I've seen, and, inevitabley, the differences: the time that's past between then and now, the changes in my life, in who I know, and in who I am. It seems to be harder and harder for me to identify a place I can say with confidence is my "home" anywhere in the world. But I'm also excited about the freedom that letting go affords. I love Oregon. But it's this Oregon, now--it can never be the magical place that existed in my memories, and it's futile to pretend it can be--or at least it's painful to imagine it and then realize that it doesn't exist anymore. But I do exist. The friends I love and cherish change, just like I do, but we can continue to braid our lives together like threads of love and warm regard wherever we happen to be. It will just always involve letting go too, because it has too. But I do know one thing: love is love is love and it is just as real for me now as it has ever been. And I'm continually grateful for that gift each day, just as I'm grateful for the gift of the day itself, knowing that it's far from permanent and it isn't guaranteed to me by any kind of justice. It's just here, all the same, and so it's beautiful and ready to be appreciated the way it is right now.

Currently I'm applying for scholarships to teach English and study (possibly in France) or in Spain. All the sudden I feel like a course of action (for the next couple of years, maybe), has become more clear to me, laid out as a map of goals and uncertainty together of the road ahead. It's amazing to me how what seems like a frightening void, a maze of the future, can suddenly come alive with hopes, aspirations, and plans. I'm so excited to meet what comes up on the voyage ahead, and I'm trying to remember to stay open to the gifts that I haven't yet asked for and cannot yet imagine giving and receiving! Au revoir!

Summer 2010: An Oregon Coast bike trip,Team Bike ART and the landscape rolling exactly we are

2010-07-06T13:18:00.000-07:00

The spring and summer have come and progressed quickly this year, perhaps more quickly than I've noticed in the past. I've been working hard in graduate school--thankfully, I feel like I am more or less where I should be in my studies as far as my scheduled graduation date for next spring goes. I'm sorry I haven't had more time to keep up with blogging my adventures. I've been lucky to have had a few. And training and racing in a couple of triathlons this spring seems to have kept my head in the game at times at least. Spring break to summer was packed with reading, writing, and working of various kinds, and I'm just getting to the blogging now that full-on summer has rolled around.

In May, the Corvallis Mountain Club organized a "Beginner Smith Rock Climbing Trip." Those in attendance were mostly the Mountain Club crew from around here that I've climbed with there in the past (plus a few beginners or "gumbies"). We had a great time on the rock all the same.

My friend Katie and I took a walk to enjoy the beautiful desert colors. It was still pretty chilly in the shade in May--but the sun was warm and golden and provided a gently-satisfying heat.

At one of the triathlons I ran, the Heart of the Valley here in Corvallis, I had a glass blowout flat and it ripped my tire. I'd just left the biking gate a few blocks back and I didn't have a spare. But an incredibly nice neighbor-spectator lent me his mountain bike--and shoes--to finish the 15 miles! What a nice guy! And what a rush...

There have also been some fun day trips in the area, like visiting Alsea Falls at top flow capacity. Check out those eddies!

Bike Trip Time! Amy and her friend Terry and I met up in Eugene at another friend's home to begin our journey down the Oregon Coast! We had to split up the gear to make sure we weren't carrying an ounce more than was necessary. For the sake of our collective knees.

We drove from Eugene to Florence to camp the first night at the Oregon Dunes, where I camped on my first bike trip, to San Fransisco, in 2005.

This is a picture of me after accidentally riding 20 miles up and over the "Seven Devils" on the way to Bandon, Oregon with my brakes engaged. I wasn't really drinking whiskey and olnly pretended for this picture--but it felt like it. I noticed that the flag on the back of my bike was pressing the brake cable once we got into town and the wheel was dragging as I attempted to walk with it. Extra training, I suppose?

The weather was sunny for a total of about two days. The state park at Cape Blanco just north of Port Orford was a highlight.

The fog followed us into California. But we were proud to have made it! We were calling ourselves Team Bike Art (Amy-Rachael-Terry) and it felt like we really were a team by the time we got there. The rewards of help and teamwork--along with a new friend--I already felt a strong connection with Terry--were another highlight for me!

Terry demonstrates our collective affinity for maps and mapped planning as we sit in a cafe in Crescent City and contemplate riding to Arcata through the Redwoods or going all the way to San Fransisco. In the end we found a shuttle that carries bicycles (and riders) inland to Grants Pass, OR. Having ridden almost 250 miles, ready for a rest day and itching for some warm weather and sunshine, we hopped on the bus--but not before enjoying some clam chowder on the beach first.

In Rogue River (where we got off the bus) we met up with some of Amy's family and re-grouped. The decision was made to base ourselves at a state park right on the Rogue River and tour wine country for a couple of days!

After a 50-mile wine tour ride we treated ourselves to a picnic and swimming!

Caprice Winery just outside of Jefferson was especially beautiful--and there were alpacas.

Then we got a ride with another friend headed back to the beach and were able to pack in one more day of beautiful (but chilly) beach weather just before picking up the car in Florence.

Team Bike ART in action!

Now that this July's here, I can't help being reminded of other ones, the summers past. Last year I flew back from a year in South America to drive across the country with my brother and start school. The year before that I was preparing for the trip and climbing in Washington State and salsa dancing in Portland....before that the memories provoke an ebb and flow of clarity and blurriness of snap-shot images from bicycling and climbing trips to California, Washington State, Montanta, and British Columbia...
At times these memories can trigger emotions of nostalgia, wishing that they weren't already past and that I could somehow return to the parts of the memories or the stories of them that I really cherish. Sometimes I wander down a path that leads me to think I'm better off now in some way, and that because things have changed since then, that there must have been something missing before that's here now. At times like this, I often gravitate to going back to the things I feel sure about. There's one thing that I know. It is what it is. I can't go back, even if I wanted to, and probably later I'll feel like the things I'm doing right now were incomplete in some way compared to what I'll know and do later. But "now" is what it is. It's what I am, my community, and our adventures. It's a treasure and I'm grateful to have it. This summer doesn't have to be exactly like the other summers (it's right that it couldn't ever be) or completely different either. They just keep moving on, and I keep moving right along with them. I don't know what the rest of July holds in store for me and my friends, but I'm about as excited to find out as I am uncertain. I love to ride my bicycle, though, and the feeling of rolling along.

Slowtrain back to the Sierras: I'm beginning to see the light!

2010-03-28T18:08:00.001-07:00

This winter has been a winter filled with work. I've been making progress towards my goal of earning a master's degree in writing/English, and it's been almost as hard as the reports I'd heard about "the rigors of graduate school" stated before I started. Although there have been hard times, and definitely a few times when I stopped to wonder why I was working so hard for so little in the first place. I've stayed pretty much on course through it so far. But, at every step, I've needed and tried my best to continue the parts of my life that have meant the most to me until now, including relationships with friends, with the outdoors, and a pro-active lifestyle within my community in general.
Alas, there hasn't been much time for art, but I need art, and I've been dancing and writing creatively and living creatively all I can, and that's what I call my art. I want to participate in my community--but, unfortunately, my work load doesn't allow for much public service in the schedule. So I've been getting to know my friends better, finding better ways to be a good friend myself, and just spending time outdoors joining in with activities that develop relationships to the land around us. I've also been gearing up for triathlon season, even while my work/homework time is crunching in on the sleep hours so far.
I've had my golden moments, though, and they've kept me going. I've met many beautiful people, and knowing them has kept me going too. Over this past spring break from Oregon State University at the end of March, we flocked south to bathe in the desert sun and worship granite oracles for a week to remind us of what treasures the summer always holds.

In January, when it was very cold, a group of us went up to the Santiam Pass for Todd's birthday and played around in the snow. We were able to get in some skiing. I held on to this one when I was giving speeches and grading tests into March!

whoosh! Dana and I on the slopes

...and then it was March. Time to go south to the central-southern California Sierra Nevada mountains! I caught a ride with a local gal named Heather in her snazzy-fuel-efficient car. When we drove down hwy 395 in California past Mono lake, it was my first there since the great Sierra bike trip of 2006. It was great to see the place again and think of memories of Yosemite. I decided I'd really like to go back again this summer if I can, and it looks like there'll be friends going down. I cemented my decision later in the trip, when I got a taste of some classic California crack climbs in the Owens River Gorge.

Kicking Bristle cones was a popular pastime on the way south.

Aaaah. First sight of the Sierra.

Venturing into the Owens River Gorge-Canyon

I ran through the gorge on the most beautiful of days, 75 degrees and sunny, and I also ran up a few sport climbs that others set up. I scoped out a couple of cracks, but most were bolted up. I still felt great when I got to the top of this lovely face 10b in the shade in the North Gorge.

On the long, sunshine-filled walk home, two climbers from across the gorge who'd seen us on the other side stopped and offered us a halfway-walk-up brew. We talked about the climbs, camping in "the pit" (climber's camp in Bishop) and waved g'day. It was nice to meet other visitors with such nice manners.

For a couple of nights Heather, her brother and I camped out above the Owens Gorge away from the pit with a few of their friends. They had a rad disk golf course set up on the side of the ridge and we played until sundown before campfire time.

There was some kind of mining going on in the 19th century in the Owens River Gorge, so there are remnants like piping, bridges over the small river, and these doors in the side of the cliff. Little is known about what was mined there, according to the local climbers' guidebook, it was "something unknown." Anyhow, this wreckage is also one of the key reasons the gorge has been a chosen sport climbing development spot--since there is already so much human impact in the area, a few bolts don't matter as much as the connection of climbers with the land, the reasoning goes... It seems that I agree. I had a great time in the gorge.

Hello! Good morning! So much camping and no mirror in sight. What's a girl to do? Sometimes I'd take a picture in my tent in the morning just to survey the "another-day-without-a-shower" damage. Nice earrings though.

One of the parts I love about trips like this is the freedom to not know what's coming next, and the feeling of ease in sliding from one mode to the next, next day, next group project, next moment. After a couple of days climbing in the gorge with Heather and co., I caught a ride back down to the pit. I'd been in contact with some more friends down in Bishop from Corvallis, most of whom where bouldering. Cris and Javier, my friends who are studying at OSU from Ecuador, had been at Owens for a couple of days too, along with a student friend from U of O in Eugene, and they had an extra spot in their car. We had a great time bouldering, checking out the area, and visiting the hot springs together for the rest of the week.

Cristina bouldering at "the Happys" near Bishop, CA

Me: a "happys" attempt

Ariel from Corvallis met up with us to climb too!

Next up: Remote free hot springs location! Snow driving necessary! Oops! A friend in a van ahead of us couldn't hack it! We spent a couple of hours digging him out.

Cris enjoying the beauty of the day. Where could be better to get stuck for a little while and have some friends make a project of digging you out? Even if we were stuck, we were still on vacation in one of the most beautiful places ever. We had an astonishingly good time. Then, we spent all evening at the hotsprings and then went out to eat for a special treat. Mmmm.

The next day, the crew was ready to venture out again. We went to the famous local bouldering destination "the Buttermilks" this time, saw some amazing rock formations and met up with another crew of OSU friends who'd been on backpacking duty in Death Valley for the previous week.

Frasier from Eugene on a wicked hard boulder problem

You can see Cristina on top of that rock!

There she is!

In general, I tackled the smaller stuff...but I won!

And Betsy and Josh definitely conquered all with their splendid guitar-mandolin-vocals combination.

Splendid beauty beyond words...
then it was time for the 12-hour drive back to the damp and school/work-filled Northwest again. So Cris and I piled in with Matt and Rob, and settled in for the long haul. It was a good ride. And, even though I'm back in Oregon again now, and it's definitely raining and I can feel the difference deeply between this place and the granite cliffs of the Sierra, I've soaked up my fill of sunshine to keep me going for a little while, I know that summer's coming, and I now have the renewed imprint of the feeling of what summertime is and what it has the potential to be. I will bound over mountainsides, when the time comes. There is time for this and there will be a time for that too, I have to believe. Until that time, I'm working towards my school goals. Even though sometimes the work and studying seem to swallow my life up whole, I know that the way to the other side of school isn't around it, but through it. So I'll go on through. But I'll also keep remembering the sunshine of the desert and the freedom of the hills, who I am within a Doug Fir grove, and what life looks like on the open road. That much, I'll do for now, and I know that soon I will be where I belong once again.

Saluting beautiful pieces of ourselves: autumn in Oregon blows the tender colors in

2009-12-18T10:09:00.000-08:00

Erin's getting married! At the end of the summer, she and Paul got engaged. Time to start planning for some parties! I was living in their house after getting back from South America, and I had the pleasure of going shopping for wedding dresses. We didn't find one this day (she ended up buying online), but we had lots of fun. We're having a party for her in January, and then the two lovebirds are headed to Mexico to tie the knot. Good for them. Meanwhile, I've been trying to get out into the beautiful Northwest that I love from my homestead at my new college town of Corvallis--although grad school so far has kept me pretty darn occupied most of the time.

Leaving Erin and Paul's house to go away to school. It was sad to go. I really felt like I was at home there. Now, after a quarter of school at Oregon State University, I already feel like I'm warming up to Corvallis. But I love going back to visit her and my friends in the old Portland neighborhood.

Of course, I have had quite a bit of help from my friend Tyler (who I've known for a few years before moving to Corvallis) and the incredibly fun and exciting group of people that he introduced me to upon arrival there. I feel so lucky to already have a community around me that I want to be a connected part of. First stop: rafting on the Rogue River in Southern Oregon!

We packed it all up on a Friday in early October and slept next to the river, before waking up Saturday morning all riled up (party clothes and stick-pony included) and heading out on the river until Sunday night. Splish-splash!

As the fall went on, weekends began to become a much-anticipated refuge from the hard work to do writing research papers and tutoring others during the week. At a friend's family's time-share cabin at Cascasde Head on the coast, four of us captured a bit of quiet serenity at the beach--with a good helping of synchronized dancing to new age music sprinkled in with cooking in the evening, of course.

Hiking to the Head!

Cascade Head

Then it snowed in the mountains, and it was once again time for skiing! It has been a year and a half since I've been in "winter" (having spent last winter in South American summer) and I've been pretty excited about skiing this year. I had almost forgotten how beautiful the snow is as it glistens in the trees on the eastern edge of the Cascade Range. We spent Thanksgiving weekend at a forest service cabin (all 25 of us!) on beautiful Mt. Bailey, cross-country skiing the days and dancing the evenings away by the fire.

Dana and her pink cowboy hat.

My jungle-print dress was a big smash hit. Well, I enjoyed it, at least.

On our way back out on Sunday, Sam and Tyler helped tow the party supplies back out to the road. The kayaks were multi-purpose: tow-sleds and crazy luge-mobiles down the hill behind the cabin!

Group photo!

Before heading back to Corvallis, we made a stop at some hot springs near Ashland. The water was hot and comforting in the cold mountain air and misty rain. It was a great cap to the weekend.

Now I'm visiting home for the holidays, and planning a ski trip with Thomas and a beach trip with Michelle (friends from Portland) for New Year's. I have missed them, and it's going to be great to be able to spend some quality time before school gets started up again. It's a mixed bag with school starting up again and the busy rush of January, though, because, while I am enjoying a break, I am already beginning to miss all those fun-filled weekends and to prepare for more to come in the winter and spring.
It seems like my idea of what home is, instead of moving in focus from Argentina or Portland to Corvallis, just keeps on expanding. As it expands, I am homesick for each and every place, and it becomes harder to feel fully at home in any one of them, for lack of the others. On the other hand, it is great to feel comfortable where I am now, and, even if I miss my "other homes" incredibly, I know that it is only because I am a richer person now, more multi-faceted and experienced in the world. Each homecoming is a return to part of myself I am getting to know better, and a way for me to learn that I can be okay with all my many pieces scattered throughout the world because, after all, being so many reminds me that the most precious beauty within me is something far-reaching, that can never be contained.

Congrats to Erin and Paul! May the beauty of you both continue to exceed all boundaries, including the one into my heart!

40 Miles of Home: Playing on the Dunes, Backpacking the Olympics, and a Portland Interlude

2009-08-31T16:56:00.000-07:00

Michelle and I at the Oregon Dunes, being awesome

Since I've been back in Portland, I've had my share of eventfulness and business, even though I had imagined at one point that this time would mostly be a restful period for me, full of reunions, preparation for my shift to life in Corvallis (75 miles or so south of Portland) and graduate school. But, as usual, I have tended to find plenty of odds and ends to fill up my time. I have loved seeing and being so close to beloved friends after such a prolonged absence. When I think about how they're near, I am happy and excited about spending more time building relationships with them. I am also hopeful about new relationships (the ones I hope to make in my new school town), along with maintaining the others. While I still miss or think about my traveling lifestyle at many points during the day, I also have lots to do here and am already back into the swing of things and enjoying it. I have some work to do, the means and time to do it, and I'm actually feeling pretty ready to be creative and productive while continuing to reflect on my travels, my traveling friends, the places I've been to and everything I've experienced or learned.

That being said, I have really been anxious about and already getting back into the adventures which I am so fond of, those which allow me to be goofy and free and me while also challenging my skills and attitude and bringing me closer in another relationship--the one between me and the beautiful land that I call home. From the Oregon Coast, to the Olympic Peninsula, to the jagged mountains of the central Washington Cascades and the Columbia River Gorge, I have been feeling really excited to be back in all of these beautiful places I love and identify with. It isn't that Patagonia was lacking anything at all--except that beautiful feeling of home that makes me feel like an integrated and unique part of my own environment. It isn't to say that one day I might not feel that way about the Argentine Lakes District, for instance (if fact I already feel that I do have a part of my home there, and a part of me will always be from there now, belong there, feel the need to return), but I am extremely content to be back in the Pacific Northwest for a change, for a while, for now.

So recently I was asked by my awesome and adventurous friend Amy to accompany her on a week-long backpacking mission in Olympic National Park on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. We planned a week, then met up and rode together into the park to camp the Monday night before at Deer Park campground, on top of a mountain on the north end of the national park.

One the night before we divvied up the goods in order to pack as light as possible.

Here we are at the trailhead on Tues. morning. Ready for a long 4-mile steep downhill hike and then 8 miles through a river valley and up the side of another mountain about 4,000 ft towards Grey Wolf Pass on a primitive trail to camp at Cedar Lake

Unidentified but strikingly bright tree fungi.

The Olympic mtn ridge on the side of the first river valley (Grey Wolf)

We were informed that the bears pretty rarely bothered hikers, but in order to keep them that way (wild) it was important to carry a bear bin, always hang extra stuff high in trees, and also be responsible about food or smelly stuff like suntan lotion. For the bears' sake, we were sure to do all we could, including packing everything out with us that we brought in.

Me: constantly awestruck and in total bliss (when I wasn't complaining about aching muscles or blackflies, of course)

What a beautiful place to swim! Glacial Cedar Lake in an off-trail hike up pretty steep terrain with some obstacles to overcome, but highly recommended. Thanks to the Park employee at the Wilderness Info Center that recommended it to us. The WIC of Olympic Park is also a recommended visit, by the way, and you can also call them to plan ahead for permits or whatever you might need. They also rent bear canisters.

In the morning we were both kind of stiff, but in good spirits. Breakfast is always a favorite meal: mmm, oatmeal and chocolaty fruity trail mix or cheesy grits. That's right. Cheesy grits (polenta and chedder mixed in).

The weather couldn't have been better. It is rare in the Olympics even in August to have 4 or 5 consecutive days of clear skies and over 80 degree heat. Good for swimming in any river we spotted and washing off the sweat (also recommended if you share a 2-man tent like we did).

Cedar Lake

Greay Wolf Pass: to get to the pass we used the "social trail" (for deer, marmots, and us!) up to and there rejoined the regular trail down into the Dosey Wallops River valley.

Back down...

I liked the little primitive backpacking campsites every now and then along the trail. They gave a feel of a homey, lived-in space where travelers often stop to make camp after long days of hiking. And they were kind of long...on average 12 miles per day sometimes gaining and then losing 4000 feet or more...our trek would total out at 40 miles in the end, over 3.5 days.

At Lost Pass, then Cameron Pass we saw what are surely some of the most beautiful views in the whole of the Park, depending on your preference, on a gorgeous and clear day. It was just windy enough up there to eliminate annoyance from blackflies. Bonus.

6,450 ft

We followed the last river valley through a mostly-marsh all the way back the point where we originally dropped down right at the foot of Blue Mountain, atop which rests the original campground where our car was parked.

On Friday morning, we prepared to ascend Blue Mountain from Three Forks Campground back to Deer Park. About 4,000 feet in abut 4.5 miles. We started about 9:30 and were back at the trailhead at noon. Then it was time to lounge on the beach, eat fudge, and think about all we'd seen and done in the wilderness!

It is so beautiful, even with partial cloud-cover on Friday, that I have to take a moment and try to breathe in thoughts about how it made me feel every time I look back at the pictures.

On the beach with Amy

Now I'm thinking about how I am spending my time in Portland and getting to be outside all I can while finding a place to live in my new town, enjoying staying with and spending time with good friends, and focusing on landing some interesting work at the University. I'm also excited about building up gradually and maintaining a new web site, www.rachaelcate.wordpress.com, which I want to use at more of a professional outlet and showcase for some of my work/projects/online portfolio. Check it out if you're interested in reading some more varied work of mine. I'll also continue to post my latest adventures here, for the time being!

-Rachael

Across the States in 20 days: back to Portland the (extra) long way

2009-08-04T17:56:00.001-07:00

At the end of June, I flew into Nashville and re-entered the United States! I went to Tennessee to visit my family, stayed for two weeks, which seemed like just about enough (granted, I don't have a very easy time spending time there taking family issues and basic cultural differences into account) and it was quite a shock when I flew in from Buenos Aires. But I knew I still had a road trip across the country with my younger brother ahead of me, and that we were going to have a lot of fun. Aside from all our adventures, there was also the positive news that JP (my brother) had decided to stay and live in Portland near me and get our of out small hometown which can be suffocating. And the fact that I love Portland and Oregon and the people I had been missing so long so much and the prospect of being amidst it all again during summer was a constant happy thought propelling us toward our arrival. We still wanted to really make this trip count, though, and live every moment of it, so that's just what we set out to do.

We started off by driving to Arkansas, camped for the night, but then quickly headed down to Austin. By staying in campgrounds the majority of the trip, we reduced our costs and I also had opportunities to go on some pretty great morning trail runs in extremely varied landscapes, which made me feel good even while riding in the car for hours after.

And Austin was hot! The only thing hotter than the 100plus high humidity drippy day downtown was the steamy night full of bar specials and live music. It's a party town for sure. We met up with a friend of JP's who knew the ropes and hit the town. Just by chance, we caught a really nice live act called The Gospel Truth. And the adventure was underway.

JP and Tara

The Gospel Truth

We stayed in Austin just a couple of days before life in the hot lane started to seem a little too hot for us. Besides that, we were itching to get some more miles under our belts and really get out west. So we headed down the highway through a whole lot of nothing in Texas until we ended up at a big natural spring swimming pool which gave us a bit of relief. Then, on to Carlsbad, NM and the caverns. But not before stopping off at Guadaloupe Mtns National Park, a little known millions-year old reef for some hiking and a geology lesson.

We reserved ahead from Guadeloupe to Carlsbad Caverns National Park for a guided tour, hearing they could all fill up Sundays, and especially during "free-entry fee" promotions. We also saw there that were were signs up saying that the next weekend was a free-entry weekend also. We made plans accordingly to visit the Grand Canyon and Zion Parks during that time...unfortunately only to find out that there had been a typo on the sign and the other weekend was happening in August, not July. So we didn't get to see Zion, after driving all the way up to the gate. Our budget just didn't allow for it. But we did learn a valuable lesson in re-checking and checking again whereever the park service in concerned...

The caverns at Carlsbad were beautiful and cool (the same 62 degress year-round). I felt like an explorer. And a tourist. But that was kind of fun, to be just another tourist enjoying, for once.

On to Sante Fe! The Sante Fe Forest was the most beautiful thing I had seen up to that point. It was a magical experience being there, finally, in the cool, crisp mountains of the west again. A feeling of being home overcame me, and I couldn't help shedding a tear. I had often felt while traveling that I was a perpetual stranger, and that I had lost a sense that there was anywhere in the world I truly belonged. In Sante Fe I could feel home as mountains, trees, and a place that was seeming ever closer as we drove west.

A short stop in Colorado gave us a taste of the "upscale" Rockies. We camped at a KOA outside of Durango in order to take showers--pretty upscale for us. Then it was straight on to Moab! Aside from the horrible beer, we really enjoyed the time out we took there staying at the Dead Horse Point state campground, rafting the Colorado River, trail running, and all-day hikes through Arches and Canyonands National Parks.

I helped row. The truth was the easier-river option cost a third the price of the more exciting class 4 rapids upstream, and it was just too much, so our adventure downstream was disturbed by barely a ripple. While still really fun, I got a bit stir-crazy after 7 hours aboard. So I volunteered to row and enjoyed jumping in and swimming with JP. He accidentally lost his glasses...but wasn't too upset by it.

"before" photo, with-glasses

Arches National Park and Canyonlands, neighboring each other, were both very dry, very hot, and very beautiful, with rocks that made me want to get back to Oregon just to climb. We drank lots and lots of water and remained constantly thirsty.

Landscape Arch

Delicate Arch

We stopped at an amazing watering hole near Moab and immediately got filled with the spirit of the high desert and of sweet relief.

I pretended to have conquered the Canyonlands after our last hike there, but it was all a rouse. The canyonlands really conquered us. But it definitely brought us together in the process. When we got to the Grand Canyon, we felt ready for adventure, come what may. What we weren't expecting were the throngs in the desert. Masses of tourists clogged even difficult trails. We camped, ventured into the canyon 3 miles down (I ran up and down) then made our way swiftly out, to California.

At Pismo Beach, we camped on the beach and were refreshed and surprised by the cool weather. We had to drive out in the little Toyota sedan, and JP, not ever having driven in sand before, ran straight into fresh white fluff. We spent the next while getting help pushing out, but eventually did arrive unscathed (save our simmering cooped-up-together in a car for two weeks clashes which were mild in general).

Then we struck gold. We got to Big Sur. And the beauty of the west coast and journey on into the Northwest could really get rolling. I felt in my element completely. I was so happy to be back.

We got to Big Sur without campground reservations, because everything had been all booked up for months, pretty much. But, luckily, we found a campground on a first-come basis called Andrew Molera that said full, but we decided to venture in to the .4 mile walk-in sites, just to see what was up. And there were lots of sites. Apparently, the sign always says that. Your guess is as good as mine why. But we stayed two nights, had an amazing stay, and hiked 10 miles the next day. So. Breathtaking.

sunning on our own private little beach

San Fransisco! We hit it quick and just went through to get a taste of it. We met up with my friend Olivia from the Bay Area whom I met in Bariloche and had lunch on Haight street. I managed to buy some clothes and we got a 53$ parking ticket after having paid 5$ and being 5 minutes late. Pretty productive all and all. With the ticket and driving being so stressful, we realized we weren't going to make it all the way to our already-paid-for site in the redwoods that night. Thankfully, our aunt Beth angelically offered to fund a stress-free night in a hotel room on the coast and wouldn't take no for an answer. It was deliciously restful and wonderful. Our trip was always a truly family affair, but it sure felt good to know just how supported and loved we were. Thank you Beth!

Then we made it to Oregon! And just in time to meet up with and camp with my long-time friend Thomas, who is working as a botanist at the Oregon Caves. We went on a great coastal hike and ate pizza. Oh so good to be back with old friends I love in the land that I adore!!!

yum?

Two days ago we made it to Portland! It feels like such a wild ride, everything, and I've been gone for almost a year(!) but this still feels every bit like home to me. We are both staying with Erin, my beautiful wonderful friend in North Portland, while I do what I need to before school starts and my brother looks for a place of his own and gets more or less on his feet. We've got a lot ahead of us, and at times it scares me to death. But I realize that before I left on my South American travels I was frightened too. Everything about the future was unknown, just like it is now. But I'm realizing that that's the norm, maybe--or at least the norm when I'm taking steps in my life and changing it and risking failure but also risking success and just plain old following my dreams. And that's a joyful kind of feeling, so I'm going with it. I'm ready for what will come, and I'm happy to have seen the world and met so many wonderful new friends--and also to be back with the people I love, including my brother here now too. I'm glad not to be able to see or know exactly what the future holds for me, and that my life will change again in ways I can't possibly imagine, but that it will all make me a stronger, wiser, and more full-filled person. It's a challenge I'm excited to accept. It's a challenge I welcome just as this beautiful land has welcomed me back in the very whistling of the wind through the Douglas fir trees. Hello again, old friend. I missed you too.

Leaving South America: Like a tornado that takes you home...and it feels like Oz

2009-07-07T11:54:00.000-07:00

In spanish cultures, the idiom "when pigs fly" meaning "I doubt that will ever happen" is translated "when frogs rain down."
This is an art project by my friend Fransisco Castro and others at an indie art exhibition and poetry show in Cochabamba, Bolivia.

During my last week in Bolivia, I met up with Aline on her way to Lima and our friend Fransisco from CIDEP in Argentina traveling through Cochabamba. It was nice to be able to say farewells to them all. But also hard. I found it hard to anticipate how leaving was making me feel when I hadn't left yet. To me, life was still life in Bolivia and in South America. Little did I know just how used to it I had become, just how much of a shock NOT being in South America would be. Little did I know how "south americanized" I had become.

My last week at Mosoj Yan, I was starting to feel a little bit like a lost wandering of the world already. I suppose I had put down some roots in Cochabamba, and the effects of being uprooted were evident. Pasking up again, traveling again, alone again...all the more exciting and bittersweet because it was to be the last adventure of my journey in the south. I had saved a beautiful natural wonder to cap off my travels, though, and I was excited to finally be going to the amazing gigantic waterfall that cascades down and across the border between Brasil and Argentina in the atlantic jungle: Las Cataratas de Iguazu (Iguazu Falls)! I hopped off more than 50 hours on cold-night gravel road Bolivian bus rides to find myself in a beautiful magical wonderland that really melted my heart with its dewey verdant lushness.

It is an Argentine national park, equipped accordigly with all the tourist necessaries. I hear the "Brazil side" is similar.

Amazing

Breathtaking. Though there place was absolutely crawling with tourists, at least there was no lack of people to offer to take my picture for me and then wonder at me while I snapped self-portraits anyhow.

Left side Brazil/Right side Argentina

So then I found a gorgeous jungle trail and went for a run--and nearly no one else followed me. They were all in the wine bar-chocolate shop, I think.

Left side Argentina, Right side Brazil

Then it was time to hit the road one last time. I was nearly floored when our bus hit the outskirts of Buenos Aries. I hadn't seen that city in over 8 months. And now it was just to say goodbye. And I'm afraid seeing a completely different side of the city made me fall in love with it all over again, I had visions of all the argentine-ness and south american-ness mixed with italian charm...and I decided I wasn't so sure I wanted to leave after all. Or maybe it's just that I always want to change my mind as soon as I think it might be made up. Luckily, my beautiful hospitable friend Veronica from CIDEP opened up her home and her busy film producer's life to me for a few days so I could fall in love with life there again and develop a healthy desire to return. I felt right at home in the heart of San Telmo, arguabley Buenos Aires's most artsy and happening neighborhood, the first of the city and the birthplace of Tango. We walked, went to cafe's, shopped at the artesan fair and, on sunday, I even got to experience a first-hand look at the Argentine congressional elections!

Here's Veronica looking for her name to find out where she'll vote. We already met up with her mother, father, brother and aunt to drink espresso coffee out of teensy cups and go to the polls as a team. We didn't dicuss voting choices; according to Veronica's family voting is just something the argentines really appreciate and want to make a familiy affair. Aside from the fact that there was a dictatorship within recent memory of most citizens (in the 70's and 80's), voting here is also mandatory!

The ballot squad

After I got in the cab, that's when in hit me: I was so sad to be leaving. Argentina and latinoamerica had become my life, my reality. I didn't know what the next reality was going to look or feel like. I had plans, for sure. I planned to visit my family, ride across the country with my brother, finally see my friends in Oregon and climb and be in the mountains with them. Beautiful lovely thoughts...but as soon as the plane landed, I realized that I was in a new and challenging, at times oh so unfamiliar world. And I began to adjust, here, in Tennessee. I'm still far from being adjusted. But I also don't ever want to fully "adjust"--or have things be like they were before I got "south american-ized." I want to be changed, remain changed, live and dance to the beat of a deeper and broader drum. And, just like that, I know I'll have to go back soon.

Road trip time!

note: to contact the volunteer organization go to www.sustainablebolivia.org

The Great Salt Desert and bitter cold in the driest place on earth

2009-06-16T11:55:00.001-07:00

Over the past week, I have been doing some of the last traveling I plan to do in Bolivia for the time being. With a group of other volunteers working here in Cochabamba, I set out on a bus, then a train, the a four-wheel drive vehicle to explore the renowned Salar de Uyuni, with a span of 12,000 km squared easily the largest expanse of salt in the world. The Salar is in the Atacama Desert, one of the driest places on the earth, at an altitude of about 4,000 meters, and we visited in mid-winter. The greatest obstacle that we would face would be the bitter cold, as we camped for three days without heat or fire and traveled to 4,600 meters at the highest point. But I (at least) will say that it was all well-worth the experience. As a quick google-search will prove, one of the highlights of any Uyuni trip is the incredible effect of the salts on perspective in photos. So, like the rest of our group, my companions and I took full advantage of this interesting characteristic of the place. The particular tour which we chose was on the cheaper end of the spectrum, and (who knows if price is a factor in this) the quality of actual "guiding" left much to be desired. At times we collectively felt that our presence was an annoyance and burden to our guide, as especially demonstrated by the quickness with which any of our questions was dismissed. I'm not positive that a pricier tour would have made a big difference, though, as dismissal of foreigners and tourists in particular seems to be an aspect of this culture that I have encountered often. Perhaps it has something to do with the abject poverty in which many people live, as well as a cultivated political animosity toward "norteamericanos" and blame of wealthier nations in general for hardships. However justified that generalization may be for developed nations and their giverments on the whole, my group still found it frustrating that these attitudes were being directed at us personally.

Last week, Aline came through Cochabamba for a spell and we had a merry reunion hiking in the nearby hills. It was good to see a familiar face.

And Saturday night the volunteers had a "robot/android dress-up affair" which was good for laughs. I pretended to be an android from the movie "Bladerunner"

And here's the Uyuni crew. Mostly it was easier traveling in a larger group for tour and pricing reasons, even though at time this can make logistics like cab rides more difficult.

Me in front of our night-train to Uyuni. There aren't many trains in Bolivia in general. This one was absolutely freezing.

In the morning, after spending only a few hours sleeping in a budget hostel, we set out to find a tour. Eventually we settled on Lipez, and at 11am we were off. First stop: The train cemetary (basically just a dumpyard of old parts from more auspicious train-travel days). After that, though, we saw what we came to agree was the most spectacular sight of our trip, the Salar itself. Perhaps beautiful isn't as befitting as strange--but it was an interesting oddity indeed.

There was one solitary island in the middle with some cacti where we could take a hike and get a better view.

That night, we slept in a "salt hostel": another spectacle, for sure. Even the beds were made of salt. Unfortunately, the tempuratures outside hovered around 0 degrees F and there was no insulation or heating system.

The next morning, we were glad to get out early and make it to see the volcanoes, almost 20,000 ft in elevation, that seperate Bolivia and Chile to the west.

At lunch on the shore of Laguna Colorado, we took the opportunity to do some stretching and watch wild llama-like animals calls vicunas grazing the salts. It was a good thing we took advantage, most of us became sick with food poisoning for the remainder of the trip not long after this stop.

"Arbol de Piedra" or Tree of Stone, formed by volcanic rock

On the morning of our last day, I was luckily able to rouse my spirits enough to check out the geysers and hot pools near the volcanoes. Unfortunately, it was too cold to strip down in order to get in all the way, especially with no way to dry off or get warm afterward!

Needlessy to say, our group was happy to make it back to sunny warm Cochabamba. I really value the opportunity to live with interesting and considerate people, as well as have some privacy here. At times lately it can feel like the people I see in the streets are cold and uncaring, and have little respect for women, foreigners, (pedestrains!) or even strangers in general. But perhaps my judgement is a bit harsh, as my weariness has been augmented by the knowledge that I'll be home again soon. I suppose it's only natural to be readying myself to take that step, and to be glad about it. It is turning out to all be part of a natural procession home for me, after all, and sooner than later my path will lead me far, far away.

On the island of the sun: being blessed by the closeness of the sky

2009-05-25T08:17:00.000-07:00

The Isla del Sol, Lake Titicaca, Bolivia. My time here, though I still had about 6 weeks left in Bolivia, was already feeling like it was winding down. I suppose that, after almost 9 months of traveling, my trip is indeed coming to an end although, with four weeks to go, of course I also feel more involved and used to life on this continent than ever before. For all practical purposes, yes, I can sense the end-ness of it: I'm planning the last few things; I'm actually the one now, while others are talking about their myriad opened-ended plans for the months to come, that is saying that "I wish I could, but I don't have time." But, while I would like to see Cusco, Rio, or Bogata all in this trip, and a part of me is so attached to being the traveler now that I have no idea what kind of rupture the change to being in the US again will bring about, something also tells me that I am ready for this next step. I can and will travel again. Hop on a plane anytime and I'm back in the game..for the next few years, anyway...or forever if I'm passionate about it, right? But I'm ready tomove on now, I'm just about sure. And even if I've realized I can't be sure, I've also learned to be okay with that and make meaningful choices andto stand behind them anyway. I can't damage control for all of the sadness or nostalgia for South American adventures I might feel when I'm studying away at grad school...but I will continue to have adventures none-the-less, and none of the adventures I have had up to now will be gone, really--they will be a part of me, and a part of the flowering of endless possibilities for the future "present day" as it comes to pass...speaking of the present day...that's today...and I am in Bolivia.

Going out with the volunteers in Cochabamba to see another traveler off on the next leg of his journey.

Then she wandered alone. I set off, knowing I had limited time to travel left, to venture to La Paz and then Lago Titicaca , the highest capital city and highest lake its size on the earth, with a rich indigenous Aymara culture and a people that remain living on and around the shores of the lake to this day. I have found that it can be exhilarating traveling all alone, with no one else's thoughts or travel plans but your own to get hung up on...left to the agenda of your will alone, whatever shape it may take. That particular shape can tell you a lot about who you are, I've found.

In La Paz, I met up with some friends I met in Argentina, also travelers. Francisco is actually here in Cochabamba now and Aline is set to arrive later today.

To get to the Isla Del Sol, we had to cross a river and take a small boat "una lancha", while the bus took a different one. Here I am on the dock. I am also just about to meet my friends of the trip, Derek and Liza. They are a delightful couple from Pennsylvania and New York who I was lucky enough to share the rest of the journey with. We ended up going out to eat, finding a hostel, and hiking 5 hours across the Isla Del Sol together the next day. So I wasn't alone after all. I was glad.

Here we are in the Aymara ruins on the island. The sun was incredibly strong, the wind chilly. Perfect for walking and viewing.

It's hard to imagine that people a thousand years ago might have been looking through this same window on the world, seeing it in a totally unique way, but seeing this magnificent lake, all the same. The sun glinted magically off of everything and gave the whole day a surreal air (later in the hostel I would collapse from exhaustion at about 5:30 pm and suspect some sort of sunstroke as the culprit...) but the native people of this place call it home, a place especially designated to worship the sun god "Inti" and the seat of magic and light.

That's it for now. I'll let you know how my plans to visit the Salt Flats, the historic towns of Potosi and Sucre, and, finally Iguazu Falls before arriving back at Buenos Aires go....even writing "Buenos Aires" I expect that I am going to have a lot to deal with on that particular journey...but we'll get there when we get there...and let it all go rolling home.

The Festival of Fruit and Bolivian Street Culture, Cochabambina Style...

2009-05-09T14:05:00.000-07:00

Independencia Valley, first municipality independent from Spanish rule

The past few weeks have been filled with flowers, long black braids, a delicious fruit called the chirimoya and lots of mixed feelings, among other things. Because I've been able to settle in with the Lopez family, do work such as translating documents and coming up with fundraiser ideas at Mosoj Yan during the week, go salsa dancing, take interesting weekend trips and also have a daily workout routine at a local gym, I feel like my life finally has some kind of reliable rhythm lately. And I like it. I also like Cochabamba, a medium-to-petite sized-city (the third largest in Bolivia) with lots of interesting things going on, a laid-back feel, southern California weather and perpetual flowers everywhere. Of course, there are some aspects I'm not so fond of as well.

I drank corn/beer alcohol called "chicha" with the best of them...and spilled a little on the ground to tribute "Pachamama" or mother earth in Quechua, which is the local custom.

It was nice to spend some time singing around the fire and visiting the fruit tree orchard with the local volunteers. They are with a "sustainable tourism group"and made us feel very welcome.

You might think that, by this time, I might have gotten pretty comfortable with southern south American culture, or at least gotten used to it. But, the truth is that I'm not sure I ever would...at least not the more populated places I've been living in and traveling to (El Chalten and El Bolson excluded). Perhaps a good way to describe it might be...living under a gaze. Now, normally I enjoy a healthy dose of attention, all because I enjoy artful attire, inventive ways of dress, public expression, community art and all that good stuff that encourages respectful openness in community a whole lot. I'd even say it's part of who I am. But that's also why it's been a bit hard living within a culture which is perhaps less-used to it, inclusive, or accepting, and the fact that I'm just not accustomed to the level of staring that goes on here...nor I am willing to be someone I don't like in order to try to fade into the background and avoid judgement...even though I doubt it would be very effective. Sexism is certainly a pervasive characteristic of this culture, which is of course one of the main reasons I wanted to work with an organization aimed at empowering and educating girls living on the streets here. There are many inequities among their statuses and those of even men living on the streets with them...the cards are stacked pretty highly against them.
For many reasons, though, I do find myself frustrated (when I'm not running around town and cutting a rug or speaking with interesting people, that is) with the restrictiveness of this culture. The cultural climate is in reality very conservative, especially here in Bolivia, as it turns out. Sometimes it's hard on me, and I go a little bit nutty with all of the staring, just knowing that, around every corner and across every street, the men gathered talking (yes, sometimes hooting or using degrading language) are directing their attention at me. Sometimes I go nutty and I have a hard time getting a handle on my own self-confidence in a climate like that or centering myself, and I need to sit for a while with a pen and some paper (and maybe a glass of wine) and contemplate the reasons I came here, my goals, what I want out of this experience eventually, and the things I trust are true despite that current circumstances might lead me to forget them. Things like, for instance, my conviction that it's okay to be who you are no matter what, as long as you are honest, well-intentioned, and (especially) full of exuberance for what you're doing. That it's more than okay to be different; it's great. Diversity enriches life for everyone.

On the eve of the festival of the chirimoya, local elders invited us to witness their earth tribute ritual and take part, which involved chewing copious amounts of coca leaves (very popular in Bolivia, give off a "buzz" a little like caffeine), drink chicha (spilling some on the ground around the fire), and hugging everyone.

Sometimes I think my move out west to Portland made it easy to forget how frustrating the fight can be to retain these ideals and live by them in places where people are less open-minded. So it's good to be here again, experiencing the struggle, that is, in order to remind myself that there is still so far to go in the fight for social acceptance and justice.

With that said, I have been having a fabulous time working with warm and hospitable people as well as traveling to the countryside to take part in local holidays and festivals.

It is true that the tiny town of Independencia, where I traveled last weekend for a few days, has a high-percentage indigenous population and that among that population it was obvious that poverty and alcoholism are prevalent. At the same time, the town was also beautiful, as were the smiling faces in traditional dress, singing and dancing to celebrate the harvest of huge fruits called chirimoya that are delicious and abundant in the region. I can't imagine anything else quite like it. I plan to stay here, travel, work, and continue Spanish studies until mid-to-late June, when I'll plan my return trip to Buenos Aires and the United States. I know there are a lot of mixed feelings I will have, am already having, about returning. It will be difficult from here on out, I know, the aspect of remaining in either place and not the other. Something always seems missing somehow...but there must be a way to reconcile that, or at least turn it into something positive like an interest in globalism and cultural awareness...I'll let you know when I decide.

All night salsa and Bolivian dance as we kick off the Festival of the Chirimoya!

...For the time being, I'm supposing, I'm just going to have to continue to go along for the ride.

BOLIVIA

2009-04-23T12:33:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Cochabamba, Bolivia, about a week and a half ago. To get here, I first had to travel north for 3 days in buses to the Argenina Bolivia border, where they let you off and basically tell you you´re at the end of the line. From there, I had to walk myself (and all my ever-increasingly heavy pack full of things I just couldn´t possibly do without) a couple of kilometers across the borders-and into Bolivia! It´s amazing how much everything can change with just a couple of steps across an artificial boundary line...different faces, totally different way of speaking, different money, different quality of life...
So I arrived at Sustainable Bolivia that monday after about 4 and a half days on the road. I am completing 2 more weeks of intensive Spanish before I move to my volunteer post working to raise funds and with the communication department of the community aid project Mosoj Yan (http://www.boliviasostenible.org/mosoj_yan.html).

Here I am crossing the border.

On the bus rides through northern Argentina and southern Bolivia I saw some of those most breathtaking places I´ve seen anywhere in South America so far.

You can see large statues of Jesus on hills in just about any decent-sized city in Bolivia. This is the view from the back porch of my room in the Lopez´s home.

And this past weekend I alrea dy managed to get out of the city with some other volunteers. We went to Chapare, a region which they call semi-jungle because it still has some altitude, but it sure seemed jungly enough to me... ¡HOT!

Funny-looking caterpillar? You be the judge.

We went sunday for a hike in an animal refuge full of animals recovered from unnatural or hostile situations.

And here´s the house where I´m living now! It´s really big, and there´s an annex out back where the uncle lives. In our house are myself, Cecilia, 19, Erik, 23, Elizabeth, their mom, and abuelita. They´re delightful, prepare three meals a day and answer all my questions about the city and Bolivia in an incredibly amicable and helpful fashion.

So here I am until mid-june. I hope that Aline and possibly Didier and Julia will be coming up withing that time and we´ll do a bit more traveling together, or perhaps in mid-june when my volunteer commitment ends. Then, on my birthday at the end of June, I will fly from Buenos Aires back to the United States. I have definately entered a different, and what seems to be close to the final, stage in this South American trip for me...not because it has to be, but because it all feels very natural all the sudden... just like almost nothing did before. I didn´t know when or even if I´d ever go back...I didn´t want to know...I didn´t have a plan, know what I was doing in the sense of some grander scheme, I was totally loose and free...And I feel now like having done that was possibly the only way that I could feel right about taking the steps that I am now preparing to take for the future, even though I will reserve the righ t to change my mind. I miss old Oregon deeply, but I know that I will see and and value it differently this next time around...until then, I feel like I have a new liscence to live and really go for it in the months to come, taking them for all they´re worth. So here goes, and

¡Viva Bolivia!

Chiloe, preparing to head north, and the close of a patagonian season

2009-04-05T09:32:00.000-07:00

For the past few weeks, I have been traveling with Aline and Julia, a terrific couple of gals I met while volunteering at CIDEP, along with their other friend from Switzerland, Didier. Aline and I met up with the other two in Castro on the island of Chiloe, a beautiful and magical place to rest up for a few days after camping in the Alerces and inland Patagonia and (to our surprise) watch the seasons begin to change before our very eyes. ¨Chiloe ¨is one large main land mass surrounded by various other smaller islands. They are dotted by small (and teeny tiny) little towns that each have a rich history of native Mapuche (but also specific to Chiloe) legends, customs, and culture. Maritime ventures are essential, the seafood is fresh daily and amazing, and the women knit beautiful and cozy traditional wool clothing for the months and months of rain and snow. We saw the warm weather out and watched the cold and rain come in almost overnight, before our very eyes.

We decided to go backpacking to a remote place on the island called Cole Cole, the tidewaters of a river on a roadless bay. The hike there, the beach, and the weather were all gorgeous...that is, until our first nigt camping on the shore.

We woke up to blasting winds and rain, and cold. Luckily, we managed to also do some exploring and find to our surprise an as-yet-unopened ¨refigio¨ for hikers. After getting in the building, we had a place to dry off some of our things and eventually lay out our sleepingbags to spend the next night. It was big and empty with big windows to view the fury of the stormy shore. Hot chocolate would have been nice, but it was still pretty cozy.

After we got back, we decided to head out to one of the remote teeny towns to do some camping. We ended up staying on the shore on the lawn of an amazingly welcoming and accomodating family, who invited us in to sit out the cold and rain in their kitchen next to their warm wood-burning stove. During the day, they invited us to come drink apple juice with them and view their orchard/juice/¨chicha¨ making operation. Chicha, they explained, was the local hard apple juice drink on the island. Autumn is harvest time! Mmmm...

There were fishing boats in various bright and cheery colors all over the shore. We were told that many fisherman spend all day into the night fishing and then pull up on shore to spend the night in their ships.

Each and every town, no matter how small, seemed to be complete with a gorgeous and unique cathedral.

We also got to cook atop the wood stove! We had a wonderful time chatting in a mix of Spanish and French and munching what noodles or grains we could find at the local minishop. One time they even had some bread!

Now I am back in Bariloche, preparing for my next trip, up north to Cochabamba in Bolivia. I miss my friends from Switzerland as well as my time at CIDEP, and once again I find myself traveling alone. It´s a little frightening and intimidating, I must admit, to be about to embark on a journey that will take me at least half a week with 2 or 3 stops in unknown towns in the north of Argentina and in Boliva before I reach Cochabamba. But I can do it, I will do it, I know it is all a part of my own personal adventure and at some points I´ve just got to do my best and trust the road, uncertainties and all. Once in Cochabamba, I have a home and Bolivian family to stay with, more language studies and one of a few really exciting options for social and environmental sustainability-geared volunteer projects to join up with, put energy into and meet other travelers while volunteering at. The prospect of all of these things energizes me and motivates me to make the journey that I know will be more than worth it. It will be a little sad to leave Bariloche and Argentina where I have been for the last half a year, but I really feel as well that it is a time for a change. Maybe its the cold autumn wind beginning to blow, the realization that there is an end to my trip in sight (and I welcome it as well), a spirit of adventure that ushers me on to explore places I´ve never been, or a bit of all of these and more. I will let you know, when I get there, what life is like on the other side of my journey. Until then, I´ll be waiting myself as well to find out how it all goes.

Central Patagonia, almost autumn, and walking through the woods one step at a time...

2009-03-23T13:34:00.000-07:00

Aline and I started traveling together after we both left the farm about 3 weeks ago, and as of now we have been traveling though central Patagonia exploring national parks, trekking, and swimming in some of the most beautiful lakes I´ve ever seen.

First, we bid goodbye to El Bolson and our good friends Poncho and Jorge. It was kind of sad, but we also looked forward together to the uncertain waters that lay ahead with a keen sense of excitement and adventure! Arrrg!
And we made our way to the Parque Nacional Los Alerces. The reserve is large, (it stretches all the way across the border into Chile), quiet, and stunningly serene. It was just about all we could do for the next week to try out best to marvel at the beauty and peace of the place while appreciating what a great opportunity it was to be there.

Aline in a tree!

We finally made our way across the border to Fulaleufu in Chile next. Once there, we found the place covered in ash from the currently erupting volcano near the coast, Chaiten.
Later, we traveled through Chaiten and saw the ruin that the ash and eruptions have caused so far...
Chaiten

Right now, we´re on the next leg of our adventure, traveling on the island of Chiloe off the coast of Chile. Julia and Didi are coming to meet us today, and from here we´ll plan the next few days backpacking along the coast! After that, I´m not sure where I´ll end up! I´ll keep you posted!

CIDEP Permaculture Center: working to live in the land of the lakes

2009-02-28T07:13:00.000-08:00

For the past three weeks I have been living at a rural farm and permaculture center outside the town of El Bolson, Patagonia, Argentina. (website
Www.permaculturadelsur.org.ar). I have been learning a great deal about building up and maintaining an intentional community that is self-sustaining and geared toward sustainable living. We produce very little trash, and with what ¨waste¨ materials we do have (including bottles, scraps, fertalizer, etc) we have been both excericing our imaginations to find productive ways to use as well as taking advantage of technologies and methods for powering everyday life such as solar heaters and methods of natural building with clay we dig from our own riverbed. We live and sleep in buildings just like the ones we are leaning to construct in that way, in fact. I feel excited to be absorbing knowledge about how to build and craft habitations that are comfortable, pretty, and so definitely rooted in their place and environment. At the same time we are taking on native plant reforestation projects and also leaning to brew our own beer, make pasta...it feels so good to be actually doing the work of living well--experiencing what it takes, and then enjoying the benefits of the entire process as a whole--as opposed to being in the position of a disconnected consumer and nothing more. I think there is so much more personal benefit in that experience than at first might meet the eye. At the same time, I am making friends with splendid people from all over the world, making contacts for later travel, and I have a sense that I have a home for a while--all in all, I am very pleased with my experience here so far. So much so, that from here I plan to contiinue to travel for a bit within the network of such places to which I have been introduced and which stretches all over latin america. To that end, I am currently researching locations in Chile, Bolivia, Brasil...and I am excited about the possibilities that have opened up so far. For now, I will continue on here for maybe one or two weeks more, working during the week and attending festivals, camping, and hiking during the weekends in this beautiful place. After that...I will feel sad to leave...perhaps that as why I want to take my time making my way north...and to be honest, I don´t think I will ever really leave it entirely, no matter where I might go. I am realizing that part of me is here now, whatever that might mean in the future for me and for it. We´re now mixed together somehow, in some sense. I feel enriched by it all, and I can only imagine that this is a mutual experience.

One of the steps for making adobe bricks out of clay, sand, and straw is jumping in yourself and getting your feet wet...not to mention covered in muck!

Beer-making!

Camping El Chalten and Ascending El Mojon Rojo

2009-02-01T08:07:00.000-08:00

I have been livivng in a campground in El Chalten, Argentina for a couple of weeks now. The people I have met here I been some of the friendliest in Argentina, and there are also travelers here from all of teh world, among them world class climbers from Yosemite. It is excited being here now, if a bit overwhelming too. The weather here is extrememly unpredictable, and even when we do get a coulpe of nice days in the middle of ¨summer¨ with sun and calm winds, the walls can still be covered with a thick layer of ice that makes traditional rock climbing difficult. Some climbers here are awaiting just the perfect conditions to attempt ascents of some of the most challenging towers in the world, including Cerro Fitzroy and Cerro Torre. They come back to the campground the next day and make dinner just like everyone else as if nothing was different. I often find myself in awe with my mouth agape and have to check my tendency to stare. But then we exchange smiles and congratulations and everything seems to return to some sense of normalcy again. Times like that I remember that I am experiencing something really special here, and I should relish it.

I feel really glad that I have met some super nice people here, mostly from Bariloche, actually, with which to climb, cook, go out dancing and have fun. My orginal departure date was the 24th of January, and here it is Feb. 1st and I am planning to leave in 2 days. Another adventure just keeps on coming up, and I don´t want to miss it. First, included in the pictures I upoloaded a few days ago, I went backpacking with my friend Agustin from Buenos Aires, who I met on t he bus. He was on a bike trip trhough I went Patagonia. And we went bacppaking together for 3 days form camp Poincenot. It was a blast.

Next, I went trekking up to Paso Superior with Hernan and Emiliano, two super nice guys from Bariloche I met in town. After meeting Hernan, I soon moved to the camp at which he was staying and where most of the climbers are. We went cragging together in town and then both he and Emiliano invited me to hike up the pass with them (pictures included in my last entry). We all seemed to click together well, and have had a really good time enjoying this beautiful and rugged place.

On the third and most recent trip, this past weekend, I had one of the most challenging mountaineering experiences of my life so far. Emiliano invited me and Gabby (both Emiliano and Gabby are climbing and mountaineering guides with the national forest here) to go and climb something called Agujo de La ¨S¨ with them because there were a few nice weather days predicted in the forecast. Hernan and his friend Maria from Buenos Aires were setting out that day too, so they decided to acompany us to the beginning of our ascent, at Laguna Sucia. Then they headed back to camp at Poincenot. The three of us, on the other hand, started climbing the steep and loose rocky slopes up to sleep in a cave underneath the glacier.

Waiting in the hostel-campground from good weather can seem interminable sometimes, but at least there are lots of funny characters to fill the time...

Here´s our team gearing up to go.

Here´s Hernan (Cacho) fording the currently high waters of the Rio Blanco.

Gabby and I just before making out way up the the cave to spend the night.

Here´s Emi in front of Poincenot and Monte Fitzroy. By this point we´d gotten word from the party ahead of us on the ¨S¨ was covered in ice and snow and that we´d need to wear crampons virtually to whole way up to climb it. Realizing we´d be short on time, we decided to ascent the pile of rocks to the left of it, the ¨Mojon Rojo¨ instead. It was still well worth the effort.

Mojon Rojo

Now I am getting ready to head back up to Bariloche, perhaps to climb with someone I met there and also to get ready for my move to a WWOOF farm outside of El Bolson. Time only can tell what the future will hold. Part of me feels like I could get addicted to this place. To being with the incredibly nice people and climbing peaks, becoming more skilled and experienced and moving on to harder peaks. Another part of me, I´m realizing though, is craving a bit more of regularity...a healthy lifestyle in which I can meet people, relax, reflect, and explore the forests...at least for a little while. I am going to follow that through, and I´ll let you know where that leaves me afterwords....

Right now the sun is coming through tyhe clouds, and even if it is cold, it is lovely.

Photos of Backpacking and Mountaineering in El Chalten, Argentina

2009-01-24T10:03:00.000-08:00

pictures!

2009-01-24T09:29:00.000-08:00

And here are some of those pics I´ve been promising!!

Que ricos sueños granitos...y estan pasando ahora!

2009-01-12T11:44:00.000-08:00

Well, the bad news is that I have unfortunately had a bit of trouble connecting to the web in a place with the ability to upload pictures lately. I did get one picture of myself climbing at a place called Piedras Blancas on Cerro Otto yesterday here in Bariloche before my connection stopped working today though.

The good news is that I have been taking some pretty good pictures, and been able to have some new and exciting adventures in Patagonia and around Argentina. Since I last wrote, I have been traveling quite a bit. Right before Christmas, I rode a bus for about 24 hours to get up to Santiago in Chile, where I was to meet my friend Michelle from Oregon to begin our 2-week-long trip from there to Valpariaso in Chile on the coast and then through Argentina. But when I got to Chile, I found a message from Michelle letting me know that her flight had been delayed indefinately due to snow in Portland! Instead of going to Valpariaso alone for Christmas where I might feel kind of lost and a bit sad (I couldn´t understand anyone in Chile! They speak really differently from the people here!) I decided I would take a bus right back to Argentina, to Mendoza, and wait there for Michelle to start out trip late. Luckily, I ended up meeting some really cool people at the hostel in Mendoza (where I once again could understand the Spanish or Castellano they speak) and ended up going on a bike ride through wine country to visit ¨Bodegas¨ with them in unbelievably warm Christmas weather.Swimming on Christmas! What a treat! I had a good time right up until Christmas Eve, when Michelle arrived in town in the evening and we all went out for dinner together. We dined with travelers from Norway, Germany, Holland, Australia, and Finland just to name a few! And it ended up being a really special night together. I had almost forgotten just how much I really miss all my friends back in Oregon. But not really. It was wonderful to see her, and, even though our trip with abbreviated, we high-tailed it all over Argentina together, laughing and having fun catching up. From wine-tasting and running in the parks of Mendoza, we trekked by bus to Puerto Madryn, a cute beach town centered around whale watching, surf, and Argentine culture on the Atlantic coast of Patagonia. From there, we went camping in Puerto Pyramides, one of the world´s most pristine wildlife refuges. The whales, (or bellenas)had already left for the season, but there were still penguins, guanacos, and insteresting regional creatures of all types in the park. We also had a good time kicking back in the campground and meeting some locals who spend vacations there.
From there, we headed on a 16-hour bud right to Bariloche, where I showed her all around my haunts for the past 3 months. It´s hard to believe I´ve been here for that long. ALthough I have met so many cool and amazing people, only a handful actually live here--many have been travelers in the hostel on their way through town. It can be hard sometimes living such a transient lifestyle. It´s not my nature really, I´ve discovered--it just the way it has to be for me to accomplish the things I am accompliching right now--meeting all of those amazing people and sharing cultures, adventures, and educational experiences with them. Although I´ve had some problems retrieving money from the ATMs and other trivialities lately, I have found that I can work through just about anything with a bit of ingenuity and a lot of patience. It´s all worth it. And coming through hardships to see the light on the other side (the other side of a few days without cash, the other side of a few days when it feels like there´s no one else around and I am so alone..) to see that once again I have hope and am excited to start the days and that there are indeed connections to be made and meaningful relationships to be forged with the people and world around me makes me glad. I realiize that the there is room and space for me to shine the light I have to share in the world, and that doing it still makes me feel good. Resilience. Love. I´m coming to find out their what it´s really all about.
It definately hasn´t hurt that my friend Sebastion had come from Buenos Aries recently to Bariloche and we have decided to go together on the trip I had been planning down south. And recently, as well, I met up with some really cool climbers at my hostel and went climbing with them here in town. Climbing always lifts my spirits. It reminds me of what I love. That´s it´s still out there, and always has been, for me to reach out and touch. I still feel like I´m flying, kind of, even now.

And I´ve decided that after I get back from my trip trekking and climbing in southern Patagonia, I´m going to come back up here to northern Patagonia to work on a wwoof organic farm in the El Bolson region if there is space for me there. I´m extemely excited to develop some more long-term relationships with a community of like-minded individuals around here, while still connecting with Argentine culture. After that, in March, I am thinking about heading to some beach towns in Brasil to dance and perhaps work with children, but there are many options out there. For now it´s all just something to ponder while I´m engaged in the business of living today. It´s suprising how much more there really is out there to learn as the moments unfold.

Piedras Blancas! Que ricisimo! Que granitoso!

Phase 3: Post-program Patagonia

2008-12-09T14:15:00.000-08:00

To say that I am now in the ¨post-program¨ portion of my trip is partially true, but I still feel like I´m keeping to some kind of ¨program,¨ even if it´s just my own. That´s just the way I work, I figure. Like it or not, it´s what I´m most comfortable with: having some kind schedule, timeframe, etc, however flexible they might be. I have been weighing my options. While exploring the beauty of the place I´m in (like above, on Isla Victoria where Olivia and I arrived by boat after crossing the lake), I have had the chance to do a lot of thinking about where I might be headed next. Conclusion: I still don´t know. But I do think I know one thing maybe a little bit more clearly than before--I want to be doing something... in particular. Not one thing, I´ve realized, though, or even following one main trajectory...What I know about it isn´t so much what it is going to be, look like, be called...so much as feel like. I want to be doing things that make me feel right. Kind of obvious, maybe? Well, maybe, if not obvious then at least something that I´ve been told I should do time and time again by people I respect...but I guess before I just wasn´t so sure exactly what that meant. If you´re not sure what exactly ¨right¨ is supposed to feel like, then how do you know when whatever you´re doing is? Well, for me at least, I think the answer is ¨you´ll know when it is.¨ And I think I´m getting warmer. As for right now, I´m going to continue following this path and letting a feeling lead me along as much as anything else. I guess I´m just seeing things a little bit differently these days.

For Thanksgiving, Olivia, Pat and I helped to make a large dinner for our host families. It was a really special experience, and I think we all connected a little bit by sharing not only culture but also thanks with one another. Two days later, Olivia was to leave for California. Two days after that, I moved from José´s house into a hostel in the city. Sometimes I´m astonished by the rate at which so much in my life can be changing. I miss them all very much, but here I still am, doing my thing. And I´m doing alright after all.

This past weekend, I went to El Bolsón, two hours to the south of here, for a jazz festival with Pat and James, a new student in town who I met in Buenos Aires. We saw some amazing ¨conjuntos¨ playing traditional jazz and latin jazz variations. The crowd was quite a switch--El Bolsón used to be home to some kind of commune that is still partially active in the community , I´ve heard--and we all enjoyed the change of scenery and music a lot.

Bolsón is also home to a weekly fair in the summer with all kinds of beautiful and interesting crafts. It´s a big tourist draw, and I could see why. We also drank smoothies called ¨licuados¨ and ate tartas all day. mmmmm...

The setting was incredible. In the backgroung, looming over the town, you can see Cerro Piltrikitron. It reminded me a lot of the granite peaks of central Washington. I want to be up there! Luckily, I have been making connections with some local climbers lately and even climbing a bit. Hopefully I will get to go soon! Hooray!

On Sunday morning, there was this gorgeous traditional choir playing and singing in the park. They sounded beautiful. It was not only a real treat, but also pretty moving for me considering the amazing backdrop that set the scene.

I am spending my days with others experiencing this incredible place and learning more than I thought was possible on almost a daily basis. What´s more, the things I´m learning aren´t at all like subjects that could ever be taught in an academic course (Spanish excluded, of course, and I´m taking in as much as I can of that each day, as well), but Í feel like the things I´m learning are really important in order to live my life like I want to, and to do what I need to. I just wasn´t aware that there could be so much more out there, or that to gain access to it I would have to take myself so far from my own zone of comfort, voluntarily and involuntarily. I´m finally feeling like I´ve got my head in the game, anew if not for the first time. And this time I´m definately playing for keeps.

My Patagonian Adventure Begins...

2008-11-11T12:26:00.000-08:00

This past week, I have been getting used to my new surroundings here in Bariloche! The food is great, the people are nice, and the mountains are amazing. It does feel like a big breath of fresh air to be in a place that has a little bit of a slower pace and where the people smeem to be enthusiastic and appreciative about this amazing place that they live in for the most part. In the winter, Bariloche is a ski resort town, and in the summer there are tons of outdoor activities to do here. It is a little bit like Aspen or Vale, I would imagine, or Whistler in BC where I´ve visited..but that also means that is has some pretty seriously heavy tourist activity. Lots of shops charge ¨tourist prices¨ here, and there are many Europeans and other foreigners with money wandering the streets and frequenting the pubs and hotels that cater to them. Despite that feel, I do think that this is an amazing place, and I am so glad to be here. There is so much I am itching to do! So much, in fact, that I find myself surely a bit neurotically worried about finding people to climb with and getting on with identifying ways to go about doing all of the amazing things I came here to do. It can almost be exhausting at times. There is a voice of reason in me too, of course, that tells me that my time will come, that I needn´t worry myself so much about doing things in the future that I am not fully taking adavantage of this amazing expereince as it happens right now. That it´s ok to slow down a bit, and everything will materialize in time. I just can´t rush it like I want to. But realizing that helps a bit. I am excited to go down and visit El Bolson to the south, because I hear that there is some pretty great climbing there and also more of a laid-back and less touristy feel. I have also been doing quite a bit of exploring with my Spanish class partner and roomate Olivia, who I feel glad to have with me as a fellow adventurer for now. We like to go into town after class and get wine and ice cream. Last weekend, as well, we hiked to the top of two peaks together. One on Saturday, Cerro Campanario, which was lovely, easy to get to, and had a cafe on top!
I enjoyed our hiked on Sunday especially, though. We spent about 2.5 hours summiting Cerro Lopez, a Patagonian peak with a refuge on top where hikers can sleep. There was so much snow. It really reminded me of the beauty and the majesty of the mountains, and of why I am really here. I will find my place, it will just take some time.

Before leaving Buenos Aires, I had one last night out on the town with some friends. Since it was Halloween, we decided to show ourselevs as the foreigners that we were by dressing up in crazy costumes. I was a muse.

After I arrived with Olivia in Bariloche, a wave of relief came over me. The beauty almost caught me off gaurd. I feel so incredibly lucky that I am able to experience the vistas of springtime here every day now.

This is the top of Cerro Campanario. It´s a short little jaunt on a bus from the town of Bariloche, and a brisk straight-up hike to the top is nice anytime...and once you get there, there is a coffee shop, like many of the short peaks around here that you can also take a ski lift to for winter skiing (and summer tourism). I don´t really aprove...but eco-tourism is so big here that everyone wants to make a buck my making everything accessible to everybody. I did have some coffee and enjoyed it along with the view once we arrived.

The next day, we set off on a larger adevnture (and one I really enjoyed). We spent about 5.5 hours ascending and descending Cerro Lopez, one of the tallest points around here, up from the little town of Colonia Suissa. It was gorgeous. Breathtaking. I was extremely taken and felt very lucky. Olivia and I went with some other travelers that we met the previous day, and we all had a wonderful time.

getting a little lost...

Refigio Italia...opened year-round in the snow for hikers...where we split a bottle of wine

The reflections off the lakes down below (this is known as the lake district) were breathtaking. It was cold and there was quite a bit of snow, but it was all fairly tightly packed and not too much of a problem for my snow boots. I can´t wait to go back and do a multi-day trek between several refugios.

Wehn we got back into town, we took it easy and enjoyed the amazing view from our little room on the hillside. Our host family has been very accomodating. José and his three children always ask us lots of questions about our adventures and give us a chance to practice our Spanish. Their family is actually all descended from Slovenian immigrants to Argentina.

This past weekend, Olivia and I went camping at Colonia Suissa, then rode rented bikes back to Bariloche (only about 22k). We had a blast, carrying our gear in backpacks and all. Once we arrived, we took a load off at a local beach.

That´s it for now. I´ll report back with some info on the trips we´re planning to Refugio Frey and El Bolsón later. I´ve got to go and see about continuing my Spanish lessons into December (I need it), and planning some more adventures around here. I am itching to find some people to climb with, so I might eventually sign up for a trip with the outdoor club here (Club Andina) to try and meet people that way. In December, also, I will be moving to a hostel in town, and I´d like to find a private room at a reasonable rate, so I figure I should start looking around. I´ll let you know how it turns out.

Chau!

Excursion in Uruguay and Bidding Goodbye to Buenos Aires

2008-10-31T13:43:00.000-07:00

I can hardly believe that six weeks have already passed! Well, it´s kind of odd, because at the same time, I am really ready to go. Maybe it´s just that it´s hard for me to place the fact that six weeks of my ¨adventure¨ have passed here in this city already, and I don´t know how exactly to measure or compare how long the time feels. It doesn´t so much as feel short...that´s for sure...as it does sort of unreal...like the time here has passed without having really contained much of the stuff I measured my life by before. It´s been different. I´d probably call myself a creature of habit, even though I do love to accept new challenges and step out of my comfort zone. I still thrive on routines. Simple routines, in which I am doing things that I love to do, that are fullfilling, and although sometimes very difficult are also straightforward. It this city, I have often felt like a hampster spinning on its wheel fervently racing to accomplish little if anything of real substance. While this assesment might sound somewhat bleak, my experience has also taught me much, even if by an excercize in futility. I long to take long strides in the mountains. To breathe clean fresh mountain air and clear my head and heart a bit. The city makes me feel kind of gunked up, I think. Whether from air pollution, clogged streets, my own uncertain schedule and mission here, or the many bodies which constantly bump me and push me about, giving me the impression of a world in which there are people everyone but true warmth nowhere...I don´t know. But its probably been a combination of all of these and more. It´s not that I want to be alone. I love company--but I´m just discovering that I am pretty particular about what kind, how much, and the quality of the environments that I want to be in. It matters a lot to me.

That´s one of the reasons why I was so pleasantly suprised when I took a trip last weekend to Uruguay. I´d heard a lot about the ways in which the culture is different there. From the smiling faces of small-town people to the uncrowded and emmaculate beaches I found, Colonia turned out to live up to it´s name. I boarded a ship for a 4-hour trip to get there, said goodbye to BsAs and set off to spend the day on my own exploring the Uruguayan port town and enjoying its open spaces.

When I arrived, the first thing I did was hit the beach. Bliss. The atmosphere was quiet and friendly, the beach right in town, and the mountain bike I rented to get all over the region for the day was only $1.50 per hour! Score! There were friendly smiling faces to meet me eveywhere I went.

At the tourist office, a nice man in a suit enjoying the afternoon on the beach handed me a map of the region´s historic places. It was a perfect bike map, as all of the streets were laid back and manageable by bike (although the mountain bike was needed for the cobblestone streets!)

On my way out of town, I biked past a kite-flying contest. Everyone seemed to be having a really good time, and it was fun to stop by for a bit and see how high some of the kites were, and pretty too.

On my way back in, I decided to make a stop at a beautiful beach where I saw lots of kids playing around and laughing. As I walked by, a waitor at a beach cafe playing reggae music stopped me to remark about what a lovely day it was (in English) and then offer to watch my bike while I walked to the water. When I came back, I got an invitation to a real Uruguayan party! But alas, I wasn´t prepared to stay for more than the day, and I headed off to catch my boat back.

Ahh, goodbye, Uruguay. As we floated away, I thought about how I´d like to return sometime. I heard that Montevideo, 2 hours away from Colonia, is the most laid-back capital in South America, and I believe it.

Maybe I will return sometime. For now, it was back to rockin´ Buenos Aires...

but not for long. After an illness this week kept me in most of the time, it´s already time to pack up and head off to Bariloche tomorrow! I am so excited!! I know I will miss this city sometimes; I doubt there is anything that compares to it anywhere else in the world...and I am grateful for what I have learned here, even if it is that I am certain that it´s time to leave, and that I will be going to a place I really need to be.

Getting it in gear: Buenos Aires and Beyond

2008-10-18T13:47:00.000-07:00

My Spanish (or Castellano, as they call the language here) is coming along nicely, although I am daily frustrated when I just can´t understand what someone is saying to me, and I´ve got to swallow my pride as I tell them that. Other times, I am stoked to have a conversation with someone, understand everything, and gain confidence in my abilities. I am finally starting to feel like I am understanding the peculiar dielect here as much as almost any Spanish I´ve heard. And I´ve gotten to know the city a little bit bit better, just by going about my business each day and getting around. I was very excited recently to get out of the city for a while though, and had what turned out to be kind of a wild ride.

Last Friday I and a few others, including my friend Oleana from Venezuela, decided to get out and go near the town of Cordoba in the Pampas to do a little bit of camping, hiking, and get some fresh air for a change. But it just so happened that Oktoberfest was just about to hit the college town Cordoba as well, and all the buses and trains were booked solid. So someone suggested we rent a car and drive 12 hours instead. And that´s where the adventure began...

We drove all night long (well, not me because the car turned out to be a manual shift...oops) on crazy Argentine highways through some beautiful pampas scenery (albeit in the dark). It took us about 2 hours just to get out of BsAs (oops) because the directions we printed off were difficult to understand and there seem to be about 80 million highways(called autopistas)in this gigantic city, all with similar names and hard-to-locate turn-arounds. But we made it! And in the morning we were able to take naps first thing by a scenic river just outside of Cordoba.

After our nap, we moved on to higher pastures. Someone had mentioned to Oleana that there was a lake great for camping in an area to the north where there had also been UFO sightings...so we decided we should definitely check it out. And it was gorgous! Beautiful rock formations surrounded a lake (a river dammed in the 80´s, but still a very pretty, majestic and peaceful place).

These (wild?) horses just wondered over for a drink. They were beautiful.

It was wonderful to have a fire at night, I realized how much I´ve been missing it in the city.

Astonishingly, the weather turned crazy out of nowhere after we fell asleep outside under a starry sky. I was startled as I woke up in the middle of a whipping windstorm to see my tent just about being blown sideways. We all piled in, and decided what to do from there. We weren´t sure how the weather was going to chnage, and, being on a penninsula without trees and very exposed to wind and storm, we decided to take down the tent wait it out in the car instead. We could tell that, alarmingly, the thunder and lightning were quickly getting closer. As we closed the last door, hard rain started.
Throughout the night, the wind continued, rain fell, and it hailed on us as well. In the morning, the skies were still dark and the clouds heavy with rain. It rained all the way back to the city. I felt lucky to have experienced such a wild and exciting night, even if it was a brief trip.

Coming back to my last week of TEFL was a little hectic, especially because my good friend Greg came to town for a visit on Wednesday! This is him by some crazy graffiti art in San Telmo near where he stayed.

We had a really nice visit over the next couple of days, and it felt really great to be with someone from the old crew back home. It does make me miss Portland a bit now, especially that he is gone, but I also think his being here helped me in my processing of adjusting to all this newness in Argentina and city life. It helped be to remember where I come from, and also kind words helped me to gain some confidence in who I am, here or anywhere. It feels good to be reminded that I still have a place out there, and it doesn´t necessarily have to be a geographical location for me to be ¨there¨. I can incorporate my past and my present into an integrated vision of what I want for the future. I have goals and aspirations that are very much my own and, although they are flexible to accomodate the many changes that I encounter in life, they are what truly matter to me. I am so excited to go to Patagonia, to climb, to feel the exhilaration of bicycling again and doing the things I love, while also being stoked to be in South America where I am learning Spanish, meeting so many new people, and having the experiences and adventures I crave.

Yesterday was the last day of my TEFL program, and now I am an officially-certified teacher of English as a foreign language. We had a party to celebrate.

I hope to keep in touch with some really awesome people I met in my course, and maybe even meet back up with them in Patagonia.

And now I´m off to get some things accomplished here in the city before moving west. I also have a lot to think about. Here goes... I´ll keep in touch.

Update: I am living the city life!

2008-10-07T12:08:00.000-07:00

Lately I´ve been dressing up everywhere I go. Battling the hoards as I make my way to school (a thirty minute walk in high heels up Avenida Callao). Elbowing my way in to claim free drinks at crowded bars (ladies drink for free a lot! and get in for free, while guys have to pay!)and staying out until the wee hours of the morning before flagging a cab to get home. So this is what life in the fast lane is really like! Whew! I must admit, it is not my most favorite cup of tea. Although I certainly did ask for it, so I´m going to drink it up while I´m here. But then I´m going to make a bee line across Argentina to my next destination, Bariloche. In the mountains of Andean Patagonia, I feel that I will really get to experience the land of Argentina. While it´s true that there is much culture in the city, I also feel that the richness of culture to be found in smaller mountain town is calling my name. I want to travel south from there and climb in the high Patagonian summer. I can hardly wait! Luckily, I won´t have to for long! At the end of this month, I´ll be making tracks and heading up into the hills! I am already devising plans to somehow get my trad climbing rack down here as well. Sometimes, perhaps, it takes being in a situation that isn´t quite what you expected it to be to help you understand better exactly what it is you want and need to make you feel happy and fullfilled. Well, I guess that´s the work I´m doing now-and I think I´m getting warmer!
In the mean time, I have a some good experiences exploring the city as well.

This is that park I like in the Palermo district. They have paddleboats!

This is the famous Plaza Del Mayo, where mothers of "dissappeared" Argentinos protested in the 70s and 80s.

Casa Rosada, near the Plaza de Mayo and the port (Puerto Madero), was where Eva Peron gave her famous speech to the working class people of Argentina.

Puerto Madero and "Women´s Bridge"--in the rain!

Oleana and I at Bomba Del Tiempo!Officially my favorite thing to do on Monday nights! Called "Timebomb", it´s a great group of drums and other instruments. We dance samba!

The girls on my floor

***
Tune in later for more about life in the fast lane! Whew!

Pictures of Buenos Aires and an update from the southern 'sphere!

2008-09-28T14:03:00.000-07:00

This week I have trying to travel around the city as much as possible in order to get a feel for directions and my surroundings, although my TEFL certification course has been pretty intensive, leaving not much time during the days for exploring. Little by little, though, I am getting more comfortable and acquainted with the city. It is incredibly lively; I have decided that it is very important for me to take the time out I need for myself and for resting, regardless of how impatient I tend to get do be everywhere and do everything all at once.

These are some of the guys I live in the student residence with. Everyone I've met here is nice-and always asking if I want to go on outings like drinking mate (the traditional Argentine tea) in the park on International Student Day--or dancing all night any day of the week at the nightclubs called Boliches.

Yerba Mate is drunken by almost everyone here, in a social fashion by passing a gourd and straw around a circle.

Every week day I walk this way to my TEFL class, about 15 blocks away in the Recoleta neighborhood.

I took a time out and read in the park in Palermo on saturday. The weather was gorgeous and the sun hot. Spring is here!

Boliche time! Dance clubs and pubs are all over the city, and they are all hoppin'!

End of transmission for now, tune in later to read about Bomba Del Tiempo, the huge live drum show that happens every week and involves tons of Argentines (and me) taking part in some serious samba on Monday nights!

BsAs: The city that really never sleeps

2008-09-21T09:10:00.000-07:00

I arrived on Friday morning, and, unfortunately, I have no pictures yet. But I've just been getting used to my new surroundings and easing myself into big city Latin American life as non-jarringly as possible. After two days and two nights, I am definitely thinking fondly of both my friends in Oregon and my life there. Buenos Aires is a huge city, and the people here don't seem to go to sleep usually until 6 or 7 or even 8 a.m. And as far as I can tell so far, morning before noon is pretty much nonexistent, and only for sleeping. Both nights so far (albeit they were Friday and Saturday) everyone around and all the people in the city streets have been out literally all night long. It's a little bit overwhelming and exhausting so far, but that's probably because I've just dived in head first, and I usually feel like I need to do everything I can right away rather than taking my time. At least I can recognize this, and it is a relief to realize that I have time, and that I can experience the city my own way, do what's good for me, as opposed to jumping in over my head. It's ok to go out and experience that excitement for a while though, I think, if only to remind exactly of that--that I have my own preferences and style of living, and even though I am open and ready for new ones and changes while I am here in Latin America, and am questioning all of my old habits, it is also a great opportunity to identify those "old habits" which, like the sweater I just had to bring with me around the world because I really do want to wear it all the time, I want to keep around in my life.

I went to the gym around the corner yesterday and felt a rush of relief and joy. Why? I felt so good, I think, because I not only felt comfortable in that environment, but I was also doing something that really matters to me and makes me feel like "myself"--the self I really like me to me and have confidence in. And I realized that doing things that make me feel good is more than just doing things that sound fun--it is doing things that make me feel good about myself because they are part of the person who I want to be. Going and working out at the gym helps me to realize that I want to be a strong, healthy and capable woman, fit to fulfill my dreams of--another part of my life that I have been thinking a lot about lately--being in the mountains and traversing the wilderness. Thinking of the mountains gives me a feeling I almost can't put adequately into words, spontaneously. I think that is how I know that it is what I need to be doing as a permanent element in my life. So lately, while I am going to fully enjoy the urban excitement, dancing, dressing up and going out in BsAs (and I want to do some of those things no matter where I end up eventually)it matters most to be to be near the mountains in a place where I can feel healthy and spread out my wings. Knowing this is like having one of the keys to unlock a door to myself and my own happiness, I believe, and perhaps that is why the idea gives me such a feeling of exuberance and joy. My move to Bariloche in 6 weeks, I think, will be much-welcomed. And, who knows?, I'm starting to think I will probably want to stay somewhere in the mountains or in Mendoza, a medium-sized city at the base of the Andes, for a little while longer.

Spanish update: I am learning more and more every day! I do feel like I've taken about 5 steps back in trying to understand the very particular accent here in Argentina, but it is a challenge I am up for. I will begin my teaching certificate program, so I will have a a set schedule and I think I'll be able to settle in some more.

I have been busy figuring out my surrounds lately, and haven't had time to take pictures. As I'm feeling more comfortable, though, I'll be transmitting them.

Today is the first day of spring on a new continent and the festivities are beginning! I am feeling ready to get out and learn about this place and myself in it!

Welcome change! Goodbye Oregon! Hello to South American Adventure!!

2008-09-02T16:02:00.000-07:00

The last time I wrote you, I was planning on moving to Corvallis, Oregon this fall to begin my progress toward a Master's in Writing degree. I had also recently split up with my partner of over 6 years. But wow, July was good to me. August was amazing. And I decided, at the beginning of it all, that I was on a roll with positive the changes in my life, and I shouldn't stop while I was ahead, but that I should keep on keeping on until forever, or at least until I was satisfied that my life is finally going in a direction I want it to go in desperately and is being guided my me and my own exquisite desires.

I thought...I am a free agent, someone who can be and do anything I wish, as long as I'm willing to face my fears and work hard enough--
and, after a good deal of wandering and wondering, my trail is leading me south, south to South America again! The next time I write you, it will be from Buenos, Aires, Argentina, where I will take a certificate course in Teaching English as a Second Language lasting one month. After that, my plans are to head for Patagonia, where I will take Spanish courses, climb (hopefully), explore, and decide what the future holds for this excited and excitable girl from Dixie from there on out. Perhaps I will find a job in Bariloche, where I'll be studying near the Patagonian Andes. Or perhaps I'll find an apartment share in Buenos Aires while teaching English and learning to Tango and writing. Perhaps I will continue to travel until I find a place I want to stay for a while. Whatever happens, I feel fully ready to begin the next leg of my journey.

So, during this summer, with the knowledge that I will be leaving this beautiful Northwest soon, I have been trying to take it all in even more than ever. I've been backpacking near Mt. Hood, I've been traveling to the San Juan Islands and Northern Washington with friends, climbing near Portland, cycling to the river outside of town, and competing in the famous Hood to Coast foot relay from Mt. Hood to the Oregon Coast (I ran 4 legs, totaling 23 miles!).

All in all, it's been incredibly memorable. But I am itching to begin the next phase of it all. On September 18th, I will fly halfway around the world and end up in another season, under different stars. I can hardly wait!

WA Climbing, Mt. Hood Bike Touring and Appalachian Backpacking: Turning on Summer, 2008

2008-07-06T11:09:00.000-07:00

In the past months, there have been many changes in my life and also the lives of people close to me. I am now adventuring with old friends, new friends, and on my own more than ever. I have said good bye to an old love who has shared many challenges, successes, and failures with me. They will be dearly missed, but I have also had occasion to do some valuable moving-on in my own life. I am doing the excellent and rewarding work of turning on summer, 2008.

In May, I was hopeful about that way that my training in the climbing gym and on the bike had been going, and began to think about some of the trips I wanted to take over the summer, and what I want to accomplish. I am thinking for just me now, as opposed to planning mostly joint-trips focused on myself and my long-time partner. I realized that I have the freedom now to make my own goals happen, just because it is what I personally desire. It is an exhilarating feeling, and I have been dancing to lively rhythms late into the evenings when I imagine reaching out for my own dreams.

In early June, I went to the Icicle Canyon to switch leads on some multi-pitch walls to get the season started. It was gorgeous. Beautiful splitter cracks down granite slabs with great friction. My favorite. It couldn't have been better. We climbed several routes, including on the Icicle Buttress, the Bathtub Wall and more. I had an amazing experience climbing with an all-woman group who were all at similar levels as climbers. Instead of relying on anybody else to do rope work, route finding, leading, etc, we did it all ourselves. It was an almost intoxicating feeling, and I was inspired by it. After, I searched out another set of cams for my rack and decided to really go for it this year. I am excited and hopeful about some projects in the works for August and September, including routes in the North Cascades such as Presik Peak or mountains like Mt. Stewart in the Enchantments.

Besides continuing work training by cragging outside of Portland and running 3-5 miles 3-4 times a week, I also have been continuing to do weekly bicycle training rides, and in the middle of June right before I left on a trip to see my family in Tennessee, I decided to guide a weekend 100-mile bike camping trip up to the woods around Mt. Hood. I had great fun instructing my friend Mia on the delicacies of packing for bike camping and then leading her out myself, and I have even decided it would be a good idea for me next summer to try and get associated with a bike tour-guiding group to earn some money. I can't think of anything that I love doing more. I would guide groups of enthusiastic cyclists and climbers across the ranges of the west to get into fun in the mountains cycling, climbing, swimming, backpacking, fishing and more. What could be better?

The route Mia and I did was a very familiar one to me, and to you as my readers, because I have done it solo and in groups often in the past. Taking Hwy 26 up into the Salmon Huckleberry Wilderness affords even beginners great opportunity for long distance cycling on moderate roads with minimal directions, the Salmon River for swimming, great views of Mt. Hood, hiking trails, a free campground, and bolted crags for sport climbing at French's Dome and Salmon River Slab.

During the last week of June, I went home to see my family in the Southeast, and mostly spend quality time with my mom in the gym and running in the 90 degree heat. But, for the weekend of my 24th birthday, my brother and I set out to go backpacking in the Big Frog Wilderness Preserve for black bears. I was taken back to many trips out to the Cherokee National Forest and Ocoee River wilderness areas around there where I grew up. The smell in the Appalachian woods is different. The air is thick and the cicadas sing all throughout the evening. There is a dreaminess in the air which lends itself to letting yourself drift away for a while. It was great fun being with my brother on a mini-adventure (we just hiked about 3 miles into and out of the preserve)for the first time as adults. The feeling sunk in deeply, and suddenly almost, as I held my head up high and trekked through those forests, of just how it is different being grown up. I felt responsible for myself, and it was a good feeling. I breathed in vigorously and dreamed openly.

The black bears must have been curious about the two of us, as well, because encounter them we did! One thinner looking, maybe younger bear on the trail, and then another larger, healthier looking one scampering off in the brush through the trees. It was a beautiful and exciting sight. We felt vulnerable and wonderfully, utterly enmeshed in those woods of our youth. That evening, after my brother collected a handsome store of wood and I built up and sparked a roaring fire, right before a deluge began to fall and thunder clap, we spotted a white bobcat too. Even though we had to spend most of the evening in our tent, we enjoyed sharing thoughts and memories as two independent, strong people, siblings whose relationship somehow seemed both old and new. The next day was my birthday, and we went rafting down to Ocoee River, where the whitewater Olympics were held in 1996, in some of the highest water conditions in years. We had a blast.

Since I've been back in Oregon, I have been plotting my next excursion, possibly backpacking around the Olympic Peninsula in two weeks; but I am up for much. Yesterday, I ran up and down Dog Mountain, gaining 2800 feet of elevation (and then losing it) over about 7.5 miles in about 2.5 hours. I feel strong, and more capable of achieving my dreams all the time. As I bounded up the trail through mature forests of Doug Fir, Cedar and Vine Maple, I recollected the way that Aldo Leopold put it: "Thinking Like a Mountain." I thought I understood that idea, really believed that it was important and meaningful to put oneself in the place of the mountains, of the wilderness, and to act as a member of the environmental community. But never before has it hit me quite like that, the tangible meaning of those words. There is nothing else but the mountain. There was nothing else but the mountain. And even as my heart beats strong and sweeps me, like a friendly wind upward, that thing, the mountain, contains me sweetly and completely.

Spring Break Cyclo-tour: Let it all rain down on us!

2008-04-04T12:02:00.000-07:00

I've been catching a few rays around town lately, here and there, whenever I've been lucky enough to. Then down pours the rain, in great sheets that splatter me before work, during runs, and on the way to the climbing gym. Never-the-less, spring is still coming, and I'm really excited about the newest development in my long-term adventure and ski, in particular, experience: I got some AT alpine downhill skis with adjustable bindings for upslope trekking in the backcountry. I had to get my dynafit screw-pivot lightweight bindings drilled this week, but soon I am so ready to get out to the mountain, especially with the return of cold, sleet, and snow, even here in the valley.
...
Wait wait wait--hold up. Snow at the end of March in Portland? What?
Uh huh. Pretty strange, but Michael and I (and my decked-out with lei flowers bicycle, Bonnie Blue Bell), experienced it all first-hand from front row seats in the Columbia River Gorge last week, during Spring Break 2008.

We had originally planned to spend 5 days biking out to camp near the Deschutes River in north central Oregon at the eastern end of the Columbia River Gorge, where the weather is normally dry and the sun shows itself more often and with more intensity in the spring than further west in the Cascades. It seemed like a pretty simple plan, considering this has become something of a tradition on Spring Break for us; we rode the same trip last year and in 2006 in calm sunny wonderful (and, as we now realize, extremely lucky) conditions. We especially like to cross the Dalles bridge and climb at Horsetheif Butte, a beautiful rock formation and native spiritual place in an area boasting many native petroglyphs which were painted thousands of years ago. (Climbing is only acceptable in certain areas on the rock, away from ceremonial spots and the glyphs.)

But this year, on Wednesday when we had planned to leave, it seemed that our luck had just about run out. Sleet poured in over everything and grey-black skies threatened our departure. Unfortunately, we realized later, we left for the gorge in some of the very wettest and torrential conditions. By the time we got to Troutdale, at the beginning of the gorge and outside of Portland, we both came to the conclusion that the best thing to do would be to go back home, dry off (including down sleeping bags, clothes, and soggy egos), stop our teeth from chattering and turn up the volume in the next days in order to reach our original destination and come right back. We went back home and prepared ourselves again, this time making extra sure that everything was packed tightly into trash bags in our panier-bags on the sides of our bicycles, and set off on Thursday morning under just cloudy skies.

Riding finally completely out of Portland and into the lush green gorge was like a breath of fresh and clean, if damp and dewy, air. By the time we arrived in Cascade Locks, directly north of Mt. Hood, we were being pelted with sleet and high winds...so we picked up a bottle of whiskey at the grocer's and had some lunch, then kept on heading into the hills.

Native American wooden salmon fishing ledge

We turned a bit southward there on our route, veering away from the interstate onto secluded Herman Creek Road. This route took us into Mt. Hood National Forest land near Wyeth, (Native Americans in the area call Mt. Hood "Wy'est") and set up our backpacking tent and tarp in the trees.

It was a cold but pleasant night, and most of our supplies and ourselves were mostly still dry enough to keep warm. We slept, and slept and slept....even into the next morning, when we woke to see snow on the ground and falling from the sky. We waited a bit for a break it the snowfall, but there was none after about half an hour, so we took apart camp and headed for Hood River, a logging-turned wind-surfing adventure town toward the eastern part of the gorge before the Dalles.

The town was only about 12 miles away, and we were planning on getting there quickly and having breakfast, not least because we'd be was riding on the side of 4-lane interstate 84, probably the most intimidating section of our trip. Parts of the highway are narrow and curve around sharp bends which are perched between the steep terrain to the south and the Colombia to the north, and 18-wheel commercial truck traffic is often heavy.There are also often accidents or rock slides this time of year, as snows melt and water drains down the mountain.

Needless to say, we were both anxious to get to Hood River. As we reached a mile-long guard-rail stone wall and uphill inclined curve, I turned on "the engine," adrenaline pumping, and pushed my speed to about 21 mph to get through, hopefully without being pummeled by a drifting truck. As I got to the wider lane on the far side, though, I looked back and realized that Michael had fallen behind. I got to a safe enough spot and waited for him. By this time, nearly whiteout conditions made it difficult for me to see even his bright yellow jacket as he made his way up to me. He was moving more slowly than he should have been, it seemed. Soon, he emerged at the end with his bike and collapsed beside it. Later, I learned that he had hit a piece of tire and been thrown out into the interstate lane, where he had picked up his bike and began immediately running for his life. His derailer was beyond repair, and even though we tried everything we could think of while we froze our fingers on the side of the road, nothing worked to put enough tension on his chain to pedal on. We still had between 5 and 10 miles to Hood River, and only the interstate shoulder and continuing wind and snow. So Michael took one end of a bike cable-lock and hooked the other end to my rack with a carribiner. I towed him the rest of the way, slowly up some fairly steep sections, and carefully down, keeping the cable taught, steady all the way.

Cascade Locks old locks

Carrying our bikes over a landslide

We got to Hood River soaked, and treated ourselves to a motel and a hot meal while Michael had a new derailer installed on his bike. We started back to Portland the next day and, although we were unable to make the distance we originally planned, we still felt that it had been a trying and worthwhile journey, at its end 4 days and 130 miles through a blizzard. The weather certainly put us to the test, and I was afraid on the interstate, thinking each time as I heard the roar of another semi behind me that I might not live to see it pass. But I learned, because I had no other option, that I could push on. The rewards where unimaginably sweet.

Now I am gearing up and getting excited for warmer weather tests, new heights, and possibly even some extreme all-terrain skiing. I want the sun to come, yes, but I am done waiting. I am ready to take a bite of my slice, for it to nourish me, however bitter or sweet it turns out be.

The Long Approach: springtime 2008 comes creeping in real slow

2008-01-27T19:47:00.000-08:00

There have been many instances of late in which I am finding myself realizing that there will be an end to the winter again, that summer will indeed someday come, that I will again bask in the long-lasting and golden light of day. That this will sink into my mind completely. One day before I know it, I will look up--and erased will be the cold crystallization of life at a standstill. I will forget the feel of tundra underfoot that pushes frozen all the way down and reaches up into me, into my own slow calculated movements and makes me know, yet appreciate, the very bite of winter.

But how do I know? I know because we traveled together to the Oregon Coast last month to begin to remember the other side of being ourselves, outside. We went camping and roaming the sunny hillsides of a February holiday. We went to seek the refuge of coming out like waking up from a long hibernation. So hungry, we went seeking the smell of the salt and the sea, and refuge as well from the cold and rain of Portland, the stillness of the mountains, and the search within ourselves for the wealth of heat and lightness that the secret of springtime holds in waiting.

Now that it has been not about a month since we took that first trip, and the promise of a new season first began to peek its face into our lives. Since then, there have been new developments every day. There are blossoms on the sweet-smelling cherry trees that line our streets. There is another hour and 15 minutes of daylight and more every day, and, even though the cold and rain persist (it's only March, after all). Acknowledgment is pretty much universal that springtime has hit the Northwest. My energy level has been on the rise ever since our restful coast trip, and I am increasingly excited about training for the on-season, for living my life on my toes.
I have begun switching my 2-3 run per week
(plus cross-country activities) schedule with more bike rides as the days grow longer, there are more sunnier days, and my desire increases to go further. Standard rides are to the tops of Rocky Butte, Mt. Tabor, and Counsel Crest all in Portland. What can I say, I like climbing up and then flying down. I have also done several longer, less hilly rides as well, in preparation for our 5-day bike touring trip next week out to climb in the eastern Columbia River Gorge. I can't wait! Here are some views from Rocky Butte, a steep hillclimb bike ride and sport climbing crag in Northeast Portland:

When we have been able to get out camping on the weekends, we have also been doing some more spring hiking-type activities. Recently, we backpacked in about 7.5 miles up Eagle Creek in the gorge to camp in our new larger, more rain-appropriate backpacking tent. Still fun and relaxing, but we are gearing up for and discussing a 1/2 month wilderness backpacking trip this summer, so I want to get all of the experience possible this season hiking with a heavy pack. Who would have thought it could be so much fun??

Another twist in events has been my interest in downhill skiing lately. Some friends took me out for my first time ever, then I went a few more times, as my budget has allowed. I have to say that, were it not for my environmental obligation to abstain from supporting too many trips up the mountain ski lift machine (and the chunk each trip takes out of my wallet) I might be able to do this activity much more. I love the feeling of gliding down so fast and, with some coaching, have mastered level 1 black diamond runs at local facilities. My main goal: to save up and buy a pair of A-T all-terrain downhill back country skis, for "skinning up" large inclines and alpine skiing down. The basic difference between these and the downhill skis I have been renting is that the binding allows for switching to a free heel system and attachment of "skins"--frictiony, snow-grabbing scales for uphill travel--for ascents. I am excited about my quick progress towards these goals, and also my authentic enthusiasm for the season to come. I now feel really to jump feet first into the icy waters of spring; this readiness is invigorating and intoxicating. I jumping. I am smiling. I am shifting into a position poised for the heights to which I know can climb if I dare.

Snow in the moonlight that looks like magic: Finding my way in a Blue Mountainscape

2008-01-27T15:25:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, Michael and I embarked on our longest cross country ski/backpacking trip to date, although conditions were particularly cush, not just because of blue skies, beautiful snow and no wind, but also because we rented a 1930's civilian conservation core-era guard station cabin 11.4 miles from Mt. Emily Sno Park off hwy 84 in northeastern Oregon. in the Blue Mountains which, once we got to it, made our stay more comfortable than any snow tent imaginable. Even though it wasn't the most trying of circumstances, or the most strenuous or therefore challenging adventure, it offered us several valuable opportunities for learning about ourselves and each other, as well as to take a load off and let our nerves settle away from the city and into the woods for a while.

The plan was to leave on Thursday evening after work, but unfortunately a pair of illnesses made it impossible for us to leave before Friday morning. Stress levels rose as we were eager to get to our cabin, reserved for 21 dollars/night Friday-Sunday on the Forest Service website,

but the over 11-mile largely uphill trip with packs on presented a hard day of skiing, and leaving on Friday morning to get to the Blue Mountains from Portland meant we would arrive at the entry point around 2pm. (We could have woken earlier, but much-needed sleep and recovery time outweighed an earlier departure.)

As a result, we left the Mt. Emily parking lot at 2 with about 6 hours of skiing ahead of us and about 3 hours of daylight left.

At about 7pm, the overabundance of goodies we had packed for our 3 nights in paradise was taking its toll on my back. Like the kind soul that he is, Michael offered to carry both of our packs. He insisted, in fact. So he did carry them both, for about 75feet. Even though it didn't take much physical burden away from me (I then made him give me my pack back so we could keep moving forward), emotionally the gesture really lightened my load. If he could be kind enough to offer to carry my pack when he already has his own load to shoulder, his own aches and pains, his own problems, then surely I could keep going with a positive attitude for just a while longer. After all, this was what I had signed myself up for. Actually, this was what I needed.

After getting to our destination, at about 8:30, exhausted, we had one last scare as we fiddled with the lock on the cabin door attempting to get in. We did, and proceeded to enjoy the propane stove, heater, and lamps, and well as the beds and table. More than anything, the three days and nights of skiing that followed served as a chance for us to get to know those woods, ourselves, and each other better. We didn't see another person during that time, aside for a few passing snowmobilers. I fell in love with those quiet mountains, our cabin, myself in that place and us in that place. It all seemed so simple, even if only for a little while. I started to think: what if I no longer lived in the city at all? What if I could look up into these huge pine trees, overburdened with their own loads of snow and life but still standing tall, and know that we didn't have to leave them at all or carry our burdens alone, but could instead learn to watch ourselves grow by measuring our progress against something so much bigger and taller than ourselves, something real and alive?

After returning, I feel myself itching to be out in the snow daily, even now as I look out of my window onto the evening Portland skyline of warehouses, construction equipment and people hurrying home. Maybe it's partly because I've caught the bug for cross country skiing, the beautiful sliding motion that lets me go and feel the world around me in a way that invites vibrant enthusiasm into my every step. But maybe that's just it--I feel more like myself when I'm sliding along through the forest, or at least more like a self I want to be, a self I like and can relate to. Not as much like the self of the city that hurries along like everyone else. That snaps at loved ones when I've had a rough day. That doesn't have compassion in my heart for all of the people I meet. Is it possible it just takes more space for me to be that person I actually like, more healthy life around me and filling my life with everyday magic?

Because the full moon lit our way, we didn't need to use headlamps or even squint our eyes to see along the winding road leading up through the glittering trees and sparkling snow to our cabin in the woods. I felt for a little while like maybe I could
see more clearly that way even, than I can in the brightly lit urban spaces I frequent where so little magic seems to grow. And I realized it's possible I need to see by the light of the magic outside in order to find my way to the place I want to go within.

2008: Training in quiet country 'til the sun goes down

2008-01-08T18:45:00.000-08:00

I have now been back home in Oregon from Ecuador for a month and a half--the same amount of time I spent out of the country. The comparison between the two periods of time, though, is impossible. On the one hand, I remember my time in South America as a kind of othertime, a space that isn't quite congruent or running right up together against this one. On the other hand, utterly at home in the northwest, I think back to my time spent on the equator as if it were yesterday--I could go back at any moment, it feels that close.

Even though it has really been late fall the majority of my time back here, coming straight away from the warmer climes really did throw me into what felt like winter in mid-swing (and I a ripe banana ready to peel or split). But home felt as warm and inviting with friends around the Thanksgiving table as it did frosted around the edges. On one of my frirst weekends back in town, I went with my friend Thomas out hiking in the Columbia River Gorge, a beautiful place to go-a-walking all year round. I ran up to the top and then ran all the way back down, breathing in deeply the intensity of my fall spent climbing and running at over 3,000 meters. This feeling of bursting energy and delight to beathe in the thick air was met with a bittersweet feeling as well, though, as the cold touched my chest and bade me run faster. I thought ahead to months of rain and cold. I had been living in an extended summer that might never end, or so it seemed. In fact, I'd been training with energy and vigor in the warm sunshine since the springtime, since our bicycle ride to Montana, since our ascent of Ingall's peak, and since the top of Volcan Imbabura.

Now the sun seemed to be setting on it all too soon.

Beginning at the end of November though, my attention turned to snow. Cross-country skiing is an activity which I first started doing last year, and fell deeply in love with. With the commencement of ski-season this year, I went ahead and let the sun set on my ambitions for warm-weather hiking, climbing, and bicycle touring for a little while, in order to try my hands (and feet, and ankles, and legs, etc) at another kind of touring: ski touring. The world of quiet winter whiteness has me captivated.

So Michael and I started driving our VW Rabbit out to the mountain--we got the last dusty pair of tiny Rabbit-sized tire chains for the icy conditions, thankfully, and we set out to accomplish the training we will need to eventually try our hands at rondonee skiing, skiing up to summits like Mt. Adams, ski-camping and long-distance overnight touring. Luckily, we have some good friends that are also interested in the great health benefits and adventure of cross-country skiing, so we've been in good company so far, carpooling up to spots on Mt. Hood, Mt. Bachelor, and Wind Mountain to get in lots of experience every weekend. And I'm hooked!

What at first may seem like an inhospoitable yet beautiful landscape of ice and snow, when skiing for long pushes at a good pace, can become an almost intoxicating dance that heats your body and soothes your mind. Each step--slide, hold, slide, hold or downhill poling motion becomes a beat that helps to measure out and synchronize breath, thought, and action. And the still and frozen world around allows for plenty of clean, uncluttered, and inspired thought-space, too.

The weekend of New Year's Eve, I had so many reasons why I felt an overnight camping cross-country ski trip was a choice I wanted to make for bringing in a new year. Symbolically, the white fresh and cold snow, like death or sleep, seemed to be just the thing to wipe the old year out and leave room for a new and vital spring. With all of the cakes and pies I ate over the holidays, as well, I found myself yearning for the opportunity to stretch my body in a clean, austere environment, become a part of the winter landscape of silence, endurance, and strength, and slide along like a streamlined glider on the ice.

When we woke to a New Year's Eve under our picnic-shelter roof on the side of Trillium Lake, we opened our eyes to a renewed day of skiing, laughing, and turning our noses toward the sun and what happened to be perhaps the most beautiful, sunny day of the winter so far.

It made me think: What is an old year, or a new year, but time freezing and then flowing, breaking free from solid coldness and dripping down again in thaw after thaw as a part of an endless rotation of renewal and decay. I am not apart from this rotation, I thought, and cannot, nor do I want to, stand aside. Even if it means I will beathe in and breath out, wake and sleep, live and die back again.

This is already the year of renewal and opportunity, I thought, even if 2007 is leaving today, even if my life is changing, I am not in the same training shape that I was at the end of the summer, and I will have to build once again on what I have accomplished. But I am ready for those challenges. I am ready for blue skies revealing mountainslopes and pretty valleys of glistening white and green. I am ready for grey mists, obscuring my vision and spitting rain or snow into my face. I know that some parts of this year will be difficult. I know some will be splendid. I don't know if I will live through it or die in it, if I will gain further bounties of love and material wealth, or if I will lose everything. But I do know that I will remain a part of this world, the quiet one that exists around me right now as I slide on through the trees and the green one of spring which brings the sounds of life into my ears. And I know already that it will all be beautiful to me, if I see it through the eyes of this quiet country I call home.

Last Transmission from Ecuador: Biking Down Volcan Cotopaxi and Attempting to Process the Unimaginable

2007-11-15T14:20:00.000-08:00

This is my last night in Ecuador, and I couldn't be happier to have come, or more excited about my reunion with friends and loved ones in Oregon and the United States. Before this trip, I may have thought I had, but, truly, I had never fully realized what a short time six weeks could be. During my last week here, I was lucky enough to take part in some very worthwhile adventures, including my usual runs to the Peguche waterfall, assiting in the grammar school education of amazing Kichwa children,saying goodbye to valued friends, and bicycling down the volcano Cotopaxi starting at 15,000 feet on a rutty and exciting mud road.

Coming down the mountain, we were lucky enough to see some amazing views when the clouds parted, and I had an incredible experience mountain biking, something I had actually never done before, aside from trips down gravel roads on my trusty touring steed. I got mud on my face, on my pants--everywhere--and it was completely worth it. We only had to ride about an hour and a half from Quito to the mountain, where the national park began and my consciousness of the singular opportunity to make lasting memories live up to their fullest potential also took root. I realized on our way up that I would only be there and with this particular opportunity once, and the exhilaration I felt at being able to take part in my own dreams was unmatched by any expectation I could have had of them. I was and am in love with the Andes and my ability to experience their majesty as well as unforgiving and rugged beauty.

Back at school I was allowed a special gift, the ability to see a condor up close. I fumbled with my camera before being able to get a clear shot, but it flew close for a brief moment. Along with the smiling faces of the children I had to reluctantly leave, its image will stay with me as one of the enduring images I take with me from this singular and special place.

Journey by canoe into the Cuyabeno Amazonian Reserve: where the jungle grabs hold of us, wraps us tightly up and teaches us to watch once and for all

2007-11-06T14:12:00.000-08:00

This past weekend, some of the other volunteers and I were lucky enough to go for four days into the Amazon jungle to stay in a jungle lodge and travel by canoe into the interior to see many colorful animals and glimpse a beautiful unique environment which is currently under threat from oil companies of rapid deterioration. Our lodge was supposedly ¨ecofriendly,¨ and I can see how that is relatively true, considering we had to take a canoe 2 hours into the jungle to get to it, it was built on wooden stilts with thatched rooves, and had simple rooms with no ceilings to speak of, hot water or electricity. It was humid, hot, and sweaty the whole time we were there, we had to take malaria medication because of danger from mosquitos, and it was extremely worth it. We were able to see numerous species of exotic birds, including mckaws, parrots, tucans, and others, monkeys, alligator-like animals called camens, beautiful butterflies, pihrañas, and even hints of jaguars (remains of a fresh kill). No pink dolphins, but we heard that another group had seen them recently.

It is amazing to imagine that such an amazing place is not only already being drilled for oil and mined for other ¨precious resources,¨ but that exploration for more is underway. If there is any cause which it is urgent and appropriate for the global community on the whole to rally together in order to defend, then surely this hotbed of fantastic and beautiful species fits the bill. Fortunatey, there has been a history of indigenous uprising here in response to the extraction of oil from the region for the purpose of export to international as well as domestic markets, and, recently, protests have succeeded in reportedly impeding the shipment of 26,227 barrels of crude amounting to a loss of 2 million in would-be revenues by way of road blockades.

I felt grateful for and throught deeply about these efforts by the indigenous peoples of the region to protect the rich heritage of the Amazon as I drifted along the rivers, listened to the hum of the jungle, and gazed out upon a wealth of evening stars.

Imbabura: 15,000 ft --Peering over the precipice of brilliance, I find myself materializing in the footprints of the steps that lie ahead.

2007-10-29T12:59:00.000-07:00

At 3am this past Saturday morning, a few friends and I woke to climb the volcano nearest to Otavalo, Imbabura. It was dark when we first set out, and, unfortunately, I was the only person equipped with a headlight on our entire crew. Altogether, we were five: myself, Alyssa of Colorado, Julie of Pennsylvania, Ben of New Zealand, and Cesar, our guide from Otavalo. With Cesar´s help, we weren´t worried, luckily, about route finding in the sometimes thick layers of clouds that accumulate around the volcano (none of us has brought even a compas to the country), but instead we were focused on the difficulty of the climb based on its elevation. To others, this mountain is known as a practice or acclimitazation route, but to us in definately presented a formidable challenge. Before leaving, I was confident in all of our abilities, but, as we approached the base, heavy breathing and near-pitch dark conditions caused me to question myself a bit.

As we rose higher throughout the morning, and the sunlight began to rise amidst the clouds on a horizon that seemed to be at eye-level with us, a fever of excitement and adventure came over me, and each step seemed lighter than the last, as the realization hit that each one carried me to the summit that we could all now nearly see beyond the next ridge. The site of neighboring peaks such as Cayembe, Cotopaxi and Cotocachi that would accompany us up much the rest of the climb stood as luminous and reassuring reminders that we were all now approaching the heavens themselves.

Alyssa and I reached our lunch destination first, a saddle from which all directions became visible--Mountains to the South, and West, hills and valleys to the east, and Colombia to the North. Julie and Ben followed behind us, but, unfortunately, Julie seemed to be having difficulties with the cold conditions, and both she and Ben turned back after we ate. The rest of us went on up as they descended.

Nearing the top, our steps became more measured and are breath more audible, as we began the scramble up to the 4630m (over 15,000 ft) summit. We had started at 3,000 meters. At about 4,5 hours, though, the climb seemed to me, amazingly, to grow shorter as we inched our way upward to the magnificent volcanic formation perched on top step by step. That is to say, before as I had gazed up at the towers above us, I had almost imagined that we weould never reach the. But now, as we did, each stride or move upward seemed to carry me farther than I had dreamed in could.

Gazing out over the vast fields of clouds, earth, and sky, I felt as if I might burst with the pressure of my own happiness and the sense of fulfillment pushing out from within me. Coming to Ecuador, this climb was definately something that I had set out to acheive from the beginning, but I wasn´t sure if it would be possible. And there I finally was!

On our way down, we got the chance to stop and view some of the amazing and unique plant species in the region, which were unbelieveable, and almost seemed extraterrestrial to the likes of us. Hard and brittle yet utterly beautiful, these equatorial alpine flowers reminded me that there is still so much in the world to discover, and the many different kinds of complexity that are yet out there unbeknownst to me represent the richness of potential which life every day can grow to embody.

We hitched a lift on the back of a pickup truck back to the city of Ibarra not long after we reached the cobblestone road leading to the small town of Esperanza. Like a tide of images and emotions cresting at their breaking point in my mind, I sat back and allowed the flood of my own experience to wash over and then sink down into me.

Being wholly here, with my eyes open and ears listening attentively to the word around me as I make my way through it, as I change it and as it changes me continually, I now realize, is indeed one of the greatest tasks I can possible set out to accomplish in this or any land.

Elation Abounds: Over the Mountains and Through the Woods From Ecuador Once More

2007-10-23T16:31:00.000-07:00

Another week has passed, and I am doing everything in my power, I believe, to soak in this amazing and beautiful place and time, and to be everything I expect myself to be for the children whom I came here to meet. The puffy white clouds which often waft through the otherwise clear blue morning skies remind me of lofty dreams upon which rays of sunlight and rainbows sleep and dance. On special occasion, they break for long enough to reveal their deepest and most beautiful secrets, those of the high and mighty Andean peaks which rise to greet us all and knocks our socks off. By mid afternoon, though, they always cover up again in misty shrouds of whiteness, and you might almost forget there was ever anything out there--until the brilliant sun rises again.

This past weekend, I and some other volunteers were lucky enough to head up twice into the mountains, on Saturday and on Sunday. We first went up to the infamous ´´heart of Imbabura,´´ the volcano which lies to the northeast of and is closest to Otavalo. It is a heart-shaped formation located on the south or southwest face of the mountain. At the base of this formation, we climbed an outcropping of volcanic rock which in years past has fallen off the top. It was great fun to be climbing again, and I enjoyed in immensely. We then headed off in a caravan for lunch in town and the, afterward, up to the 4,000 meter Mohanda Lakes area. The weather had turned into a torrential downpour by this point in the afternoon, so we could´nt venture on the dirt track road farther than the first lake, but it was still an amazing site to see. We heard that it is am ideal place to see condors, especially in the mornings, when the weather is clear.

The next day, we headed up into the mountains near Otavalo for some horseback riding and amazing views of the valley. I didnt ride, because I decided I needed the exercise myself, and besides didnt feel the need to burden another animal with my weight, but meeting the horses was still a special experience which I enjoyed very much. It was about 7 miles to a ¨sacred waterfall¨ where it is said that indigenous peoples have come for centuries to bathe and also to search for medicinal herbs. I´d say I got my exercise sufficient for training for next weekend. I will continue to train this week by running. I´m especially excited, because I and two other female volunteers are planning an ascent to the top of Imbabura. Wish us luck! Until them, here are some photos!

Isabell and Louis at Casa de Frutas!
Volunteers near Imbabura in front of a 6,000 year old leechee tree.
Climbing near Imbabura.
Near the heart of Imbabura.
Mohanda Lakes.

The waterfall.
Twirling!
Me and Carolina.
The classroom.
Lining up for fruit after school.
The Ecuadorian coast near Esmereldas. Party Time!
A rainbow near our house in Imbaya neighborhood of Otavalo.
Otavalo

The Equator

Cold and high and utterly amazing: constantly watching the dematerialization of the unknown

2007-10-12T13:00:00.000-07:00

Today was my first day going up to the indigenous village school of Irquasiki. I feared perhaps the journey wouldn´t materialize for today, because of the incredible amount of heaving and barfing I was doing yesterday, but, luckily, I recovered in the nick of time.

It was amazing to actually see the children and the community which I had so often thought of before as actual and physical today. High up in the Andes mountains, it is hot in the sun and suddenly strikingly cold every afternoon, as the clouds drift in, making it impossible to see anything, and the mothers begin to dole out hot meals to the bouncing children. I can see that I am at risk of getting my heart broken here--6 weeks is seeming less and less like the long time I thought it would, and there are so many smiling faces to get to know better. Before I could introduce myself, children hopped into my arms, asking me to play. They are fearless, climbing tresses and bounding down the dirt roads without regard, becuase it is all they know every day. Most looked at least 3-4 years younger than they said they were, and I am told that this is due to malnourishment. Once, the indigenous mountain people here are said to have been prosperous. Now, it seems that the encroachment of global market economies have left most high and dry.

I feel so lucky to be here meeting everyone and learning invaluable lessons already. Tomorrow morning, I and a few other volunteers leave early to spend the weekend at the coast, where we will be able to swim and enjoy ourselves before returning for one more week of Spanish lessons.

The unknown seems suddenly and irresistably comforting here, where my isloation is quickly distintegrating into joy.

La Cuidad de Otavalo...Que Montañas Bonitas!

2007-10-08T14:54:00.001-07:00

From inside an internet cafe on Avenida Sucre, the main drag of Otavalo, I keep out of the seasonal afternoon rain that is characeristic of this 3,000+ meter Northern Ecuadorian Andean town.
Today I started my Spanish classes, very necessary for sommunicating with my host family, but all is going well so far. The family is extremely nice and accomodating, and exceptionally forgiving of my poor grammar. I have been spening the past two days walking around town and trying to get acquainted with is as well as with the other volunteers, with whom I´ll be working in an inigenoous primary school up further in the mountains.

Already, though, I an itching nearly uncontrollably to get out and start up some of the mounatisn that loom around me. Imbabura is nearest to Otavalo, but others are close at foot. I hope to make a trip very soon.

This weekend, I´ll be venturing to the coast for swimming and doing some climbing at a crag somewhere in between.

The smells. colors, and sights of this place all seem to be super-vivid and almost overripe, like the strange extotic fruits that seep juice and burst open in the square of the village mercado. "Hill people" in bright reds, blues, and golds ferry their crops and wares here and there everywhere rushing past me, often knocking me into the cobbled street in which taxis fly past narrowly missing me and honking wildly. "Ten Cuidado" I tell myself. But I can´t help becoming intoxicated by the thin air and heavy culture as it seeps in through the whole of me.

Ahhh, the rain is ending. Farewell!

On Top of Ingall's Peak (7,700ft) : Way up close and personal with that queasy feeling that comes from realizing I want to be alive

2007-09-05T16:59:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, Michael and I backpacked in to the Esmerelda Trailhead in Central Washington to first climb the easier south face of Ingall's peak. Then , on the next day, we woke to traverse the ridge starting at the Eastern Face. It was challenging for me, most of all mentally. Here are some photos of the trip:

First, we hiked up to Ingall's pass (about four miles, about 2, 400 ft in gain) where we set up our camp for the evening. The air was crisp and delicious. So we ate it up. Then we decided to go ahead and go for the west face that afternoon. Some nice goats came to greet us on our way up.

The view couldn't have been any better of Cascade peaks like Ranier and even Baker, in our opinion. After climbing up to the top of the peak lit by an alpenglow, we rejoiced. There seems to be a feeling unmatched by any other while at high elevation in clear skies rising above majestic forests and deserts. And clarity of mind, too.
The next day, we tried for the east-starting traverse. It was one of the most difficult alpine (or any attempts of my life so far. Tame by the standards of most seasoned mountaineers, it was a large accomplishment for me. We started the day optimistically by bounding over chossy blocks above Ingall's lake. And trying to take in all in stride, so to speak. I was daunted by the sight of the north face snowfields below us as we crossed each gendarme, descended to the next pass and rose back up again. At times we straddled the knife-edge ridge like a mechanical bull. But it was no time to be cocky, from what I could muster. I was going through some personal anguish, for sure. And, at the time, I was in utter disbelief of the beauty and power emanating from the expanse below. On top, I felt that the arms of the sky encircled me with wonder, threatened to send me plummeting to my death, promised me the world and deafeningly resounded thee fact of their indifference all in the same breathtaking instant.
Then, finally we were on top together. (And all we had to do then was get back down again.)