Simplicity vs. Generativity

Well, I wrote one day of the March writing challenge, then forgot for 3 days, but at least I came back within a week!

Lately I’ve been thinking about needs and feelings. I’ve been doing a Nonviolent Communication training with 3 of my housemates at the Dharma House. I was definitely excited going into the training, and also curious as to whether or not it was going to be helpful or cheesy or enlightening or what. It’s been some of all three, though even when it’s cheesy it’s still helpful. That label of cheesy is actually interesting, as I think it has a lot to do with the idea that talking about emotions is syrupy. Or maybe the label of cheesy had something to do with the fact that we use giraffe and jackal puppets to represent different types of communication and thought processes… Either way, more than anything this training is changing the way I think and act, for the better. Of all the things I thought to expect, I didn’t expect that I would be able to learn and apply so much so quickly.

In summary, what I’ve learned so far is the idea that all of our feelings stem from needs we have, either met or unmet, and finding the need beneath the feeling is key to being able to work with our emotions and get our needs met. It also gives us the opportunity to take ownership over our experience instead of blaming our feelings on other people or outside situations. I find this rather empowering. It’s not to say that what other people say and do can’t and shouldn’t affect us, but that it affects us because of a need WE have. It also means that the same is true for all people, and understanding this can help us to understand others’ needs and empathize with their feelings. All of this leads to better communication and a greater depth of connection in relationships.

So, in all of this work I’m doing around needs and feelings, I’ve found it interesting to examine some of my needs, and two in particular have started to become of interest to me: my need to simplify my life, and my need to contribute to making the world a better place. Now, in the ways that I’ve chosen to contribute to my vision of a better world, I seem to have lost an element of simplicity. Or every last trace of simplicity. I didn’t know when I decided to start an intentional community, exactly what that would mean. All I really had a sense of was that it was a beautiful vision that if successfully executed could vastly improve my life and the lives of others, and that it was definitely going to be more work than I could anticipate at the onset.

So now we are over a year into this process and I find myself alternately reflecting on all we’ve done and how in the world I got to be a part of this, and being so in it that it’s hard to really see anything beyond the day to day. And some days it feels simple, and some days I’m so overwhelmed by the complexity and demand of the project that I have to fetal up. It’s the overwhelming days when I escape to Costa Rica in my mind and spend my days reading, surfing, doing yoga, and living a simple life of contentment. It’s very appealing, and I know some day I will do that, if only for a few months, but when that will be, I’m less sure of now than I used to be. Some days I fear it won’t happen if I don’t do it soon, but even writing that it doesn’t seem true. I know that i’ll do whatever I want if I have a strong enough desire, it’s simply a matter of when. It’s interesting to me how I’ve had a desire for a very long time to simplify my life, and yet I continue to make decisions that complicate my world. I haven’t figured out yet what that means, but I’m learning that answers come most easily when I choose to wait for them to arrive, instead of chasing after them. So this is one I’m going to wait out.

I do find it interesting though, how at this point in my life those two needs are in conflict. I wonder if they must always be. If I am to choose between tending to myself and living simply, or making moves big enough to hopefully start to change the functioning of society as we know it. The more I think about and work toward this goal of creating the kind of community that I want to live in, the more I believe that it can’t be done without a lot of hard work and sacrifice. On the days when I feel motivated enough to plug away at the work, it feeds and energizes me and has a powerful momentum. But then there are the days when I feel stretched and tired; when I long for Costa Rica and it’s easy to float off into the fantasy of how that kind of life would be so much easier, and therefore “better”. Again, I don’t know what the answer is. If I think in terms of the future, I imagine that I would feel most fulfilled by choosing to put my energy into realizing a goal of creating a sustainable, cooperative, and loving society, and that maybe that means that my now isn’t going to be as easy as my “one day”. But I also strive to live in the moment, and if I tend to the present without concern or expectation for the future, then I might make a different choice in how to spend my time. I also might not, as my time in this community has been rich with love, meaning, learning experiences, and genuine human interaction.

There is also the thought that no matter how hard I work I’m not ever going to be able to see the changes that I hope for in the world. This makes me think of a quote “The meaning of life is to plant trees under whose shade you do not expect to sit”. It’s a wonderful and noble idea, and one I want to buy into, but I can’t say there’s not a part of me that also believes that it’s possible that my life would be best spent by doing only the things that make me happy in the immediacy of each moment. While I can say that in general I enjoy this work i’m doing, I can’t say that every little part of it makes me happy every day. I don’t actually believe that there is any work in the world for which that is true. And I also know that if I neglect to work and do the things that annoy me, then I actually don’t feel all that happy. This is a whole other topic, about our innate need as humans to work and be productive (which so often means doing things we don’t like), in order to be able to enjoy play and relaxation. That irritates the shit out of me sometimes. Maybe the most worthwhile thing to do with my time would be to figure out how to trick that part of my brain that tells me that I have to produce things in order to lead a meaningful life. Can’t I just do things I love and send that love out to the people around me and that would be enough? Even as I move through this thought process right now there is a voice in my head yelling “of course you can’t do that lazy! if you want the world to change there is much work to be done and we all have to contribute to make it happen!” But I wanna be lazy! My yoga teacher once said something to the effect of laziness actually being considered a characteristic of enlightenment. I sure do like that.

As I said, I don’t aim to find an answer to this right now, I simply think the question is an interesting one to ask. I have to imagine that the beginning of the answer, like most, will be to find a way to strike a balance and meet both needs. I think that is going to be the biggest challenge. I also have a sinking feeling that a very likely possibility for finding my answer may lie in my ability to find and connect to an inner calm that can weather any outside situation without crumbling. I think that might be the hardest work of all. It remains to be seen if the best place to cultivate that calm is in the midst of chaos, but I imagine if I can do it there, then it will be as strong and unshakable a core as I could ever hope to build anywhere.

First Day of March. Madness! I Can’t Wait for Lambs…

How is it that I so often forget to do the exact things that make me feel whole, human, alive, not simply a suggestion of what I could be, what I am? My thoughts would be so much better placed on paper or a computer, than on the slippery surface of my mind, where they climb up again and again into the forefront of my consciousness, only to slide back into who knows where, in an effort to make space for “more pressing” information. Things like “where did I put my keys?”, “what time is it?”, “what else is on my to do list?”… And is it that I forget to write, or that I simply choose not to? So many thoughts that cause a sensation of thickening in my brain, the longer they go without being expelled. That’s all writing is. Thoughts to paper. Bam. Should be easy. If I did it every day, every time I had an idea, I would probably lessen the thick feeling, and also come up with some pretty cool stuff. I am always hoping that the genius ideas that have passed through my brain without being written down will one day arise again at the precise moment when I need them most. I really really hope that they’re not lost forever. If I wrote them down I wouldn’t have to worry about this. Also, it would give me an opportunity to see how many of them are not genius at all, and then let them go altogether.

But there are certain barriers to writing. One of them I addressed in my previous post, which is a tendency to make silly rules about when and where and how and what I am allowed to write. Another goes along with this one. The perfectionist in me has a voice so loud that it often drowns out the voice that’s more important, the voice that actually has something to say. The perfectionist’s voice can suck it. It tells me that what I have to say isn’t good enough. It says that I won’t be able to adequately express myself in the time I have available. It interrupts the creative flow with unsolicited commentary on my ideas or my word choice or my grammar or my general being. Right this second it’s telling me that I shouldn’t write so many run on sentences and write or or or without any commas. It pains me to resist its critique, but I know it’s for my own good. The perfectionist is a merciless critic, who speaks for others but not for me. And the others are imaginary. So who is it really speaking for? Another voice. The fear. The more I inquire into my thought patterns that don’t serve me, the more I see that most, if not all of them, are rooted in fear.

I love yoga. I just finished a 15 month long teacher training, and I am prepped to teach my first class tomorrow. Fear tells me I’m not prepared. It says that I’m a fraud and that all of my students will see through me. If they tell me they like my class, fear will say “ha! they’re just humoring you.” It’s funny, even now as I write this, there’s a voice inside saying that I should stop “wasting time” writing, and work on my sequence more. Even just a moment ago, it told me that this will be the last thing I write for a long time because I’m going to get too caught up in other things and forget to, or choose not to, write. Well I am challenging myself right now. I will write something, ANYTHING, every day. Maybe a finite amount of time is good. For one month. And oh! It’s perfect because today is the first of the month. So every day in March I will write something on this blog. And I just put this challenge out to myself in a public forum, which will make it even more likely that I’ll keep it. Which is, by the way, a terrible reason to keep this promise to myself, because all of a sudden that makes it about my fear of breaking a commitment in front of people, instead of a genuine desire to do this for myself. But if it motivates me… I guess it’s one way of turning something negative around to gain something positive. And it still is something I want to do for myself. Maybe I’ll even explore this need to seem any way at all for anyone else besides myself. Because I recognize that it’s silly. But one thing I’ve learned is that recognizing that some personal habit has no usefulness whatsoever, is NOT enough to change it. That shit is deep-seeded. I can take solace in the fact that I’m even trying. Wow. This post has leaped off the edge of self-deprecating and into total wallow territory. I should put a disclaimer at the top. Want to read my blog? It’s all about blah blah blah I’m awful blah blah blah. SO entertaining. But it’s not for you all. It’s for me. Why I’m putting it on the internet if it’s for me, I don’t know. Maybe because I know other people have these kinds of days too, and if it makes anyone feel less crazy to hear my crazy, then by all means I will share it. Plus, this is helpful to drain all this dribble out. It’s like I turned the faucet on my brain and let it pour out all over this blog. ENJOY!

p.s. Now that I have it out of my system I think I’m prepared to write about more interesting topics than my neuroses. For all of our sake, let’s hope so.

In an Effort to Unstick Myself

So, I was doing really well with the blogging for a good chunk of my road trip. I had some followers, and I was posting with some regularity. It was hard though. I didn’t know when I started this blog that it would be so time-consuming. A lot of that stems from the fact that I am teaching myself how to use WordPress, and have been struggling with posting pictures on the site. So there were times when I would sit in a coffeeshop for HOURS trying to craft the perfect blog post, both because I am a perfectionist at times, and because of the learning curve of using a new system. My first priority on my trip was to experience every moment of it as fully as possible, and I think I accomplished that. In doing so however, the blog suffered, and I never ended up finishing it.

So here is my dilemma. I want to keep blogging. But all of the stuff that happened on my trip that I neglected to write about in real time, is no longer what’s most present for me. Apparently I’ve made this weird rule for myself that I am not allowed to blog about anything else until my road trip blog is finished. I am aware that this is silly and that I can write about whatever I want whenever I want, but there’s an OCD side of me that is screaming “no! if you don’t finish the road trip blog first then you won’t be able to go back and finish it because then things won’t be written chronologically!” What then, obsessive inner critic? Answer me that. What is so unbearable about writing out of chronological order or, worse yet, just neglecting to ever finish my travel blog? Will my computer explode? Will people boycott my blog? Will WordPress banish me from their site? No. So shut your mouth voice. I will no longer be held captive by my unfinished blog. I will forge ahead and write about what I want. And if some day I am motivated to write about Bryce Canyon, Moab, Arches National Park, Rocky Mountain National Park, Boulder, Red Rocks, and our 40 hour blast back to Massachusetts from Colorado, then I will. For now, that’s all you get, but hopefully I’ll find the motivation to elaborate on those more because all that stuff was pretty awesome and I do want to share about it. I think I will try to figure out how to categorize my blog posts and make a little travel section, in which I will finish the road trip blog, and then I will create other sections to talk about all the other stuff that comes up, and not have it get in the way of the chronology of my account of my trip. So I guess in a way I’m conceding to the anal inner self that has a weird aversion to non-chronology (and asymmetry too, for that matter). But it’s better than continuing to let the voice paralyze me and prevent the blog from progressing.

Ok, so now I’m ready to blog in real time! Yay!

Seattle to Southern Utah in 36 Hours

After we leftPortlandwe drove up toOak Harbor,Washington, about 2 hours north ofSeattle, to visit Nate’s friend, Melissa and her husband, Greg. Nate told me that Melissa was his high school girlfriend, and that he hadn’t seen her in almost ten years. He predicted that I would get to witness a funny reaction from Melissa when she saw him, as he looks a bit different now than he did ten years ago.

When we got close to their house, it became clear that they lived in a really nice area.

Melissa  and Greg’s neighborhood on Whidbey Island:

We pulled up to Melissa and Greg’s house, and Greg was outside grilling our dinner. He greeted us warmly and I checked out what was on the grill: a boatload of chicken and grilled veggies. I started to get excited. Melissa came outside to say hello and I witnessed the reaction Nate guessed she’d have: “You’re so much hairier than I remember!” she said with a look of mild shock on her face.

Melissa took us inside where I saw the rest of our dinner: mashed potatoes, chard from their garden, pineapple, and biscuits. They also gave us some of Greg’s homebrew; the first IPA I’ve ever liked. Melissa and Greg: you win for best dinner we’ve had on the road so far. Thanks guys!

They insisted on sending us home with most of the leftovers and two big bottles of homebrew, plus a huge bag full of homemade cookies. You guys are awesome! Thanks

We were poised to make a serious push to get to Bryce Canyon in the shortest amount of time possible. Although we wanted to get on the road as early as possible, we thought it unwise to pass by Seattle without stopping for at least a little while. We decided our one stop in the city would be Pike Place Market, the famous market at the pier where people throw fish to each  other.                                                 

It was overcast when we got into Seattle (surprise!), and we sat inside and got some fresh seafood for lunch. By the time we finished and started walking around the market, the sun had, against all odds, emerged. We checked out some local art and food stuffs from the vendors, and finally found the fish market, something on Nate’s list of things to see. It was a bit underwhelming compared to what I’d pictured, but we did see one fish get thrown! We wandered into the outdoor part of the market and into the sun, seeking a little shop that Melissa told us has the best olive oils. Along the way we saw some pretty impressive street performers. My favorite was the guy that played guitar and sang while balancing a chair on his face – a very useful skill. He played an original song called “I love my mom”, in which he basically said “I love my mom, I love my mom, I love my mom”, over and over really fast. Though the lyrics left something to be desired, the beat was catchy. We found the oil shop and got some gifts to bring home, then decided it was time to hit the road. I would love to return to Seattle someday and really check it out, as we didn’t get very far in the 3 hours we spent there. I was told it’s more laidback than Portland (if that’s even possible) and as far as cities go, laidback is a characteristic I value highly.

So after less than 24 hours in Washington, we were off on the next leg of our journey. We headed south and drove back through Oregon, headed east towards Idaho. When the sun started setting, we figured it was time to find a spot to pull off and reheat some of last night’s leftovers. We’d hit a pretty barren section of the state and found a nice hill with a view of hundreds of wind turbines, and decided to eat dinner there. We put some music on the computer, Nate dropped the tailgate and busted out the grill, and we fixed ourselves a repeat feast of Melissa and Greg’s amazing cooking. Of course, I took the opportunity to snap a few pictures while Nate did the cooking (these had become pretty standard roles for us).

I find wind turbines both eerie and picturesque…

 

After dinner we found a campsite in eastern Oregon and crashed relatively early, hoping to get a head start on the day tomorrow. It paid off as we had our most successful quick wake up and go yet! We were on the road by 6:30 and Rose blazed through the whole state of Idaho in a glory. Speaking of blaze, by the time we got into Utah it was HOT. I’m guessing in the triple digits. The speed limit was a cool 80 mph, and I couldn’t resist trying to keep up, even if it meant pushing Rose to her limits. This proved to be a bad idea. Somewhere just before Salt Lake City the red engine light came on and Nate started to freak out a bit, so we thought it best to stop. Turns out Rose started to get heat stroke and we had to pull over and give her a rest and some water and coolant. We took the opportunity to pray that this wasn’t the end for our beloved ride, and also eat some Carl’s Jr. After the fast food (they delivered it to our table and the burger was goooood – Carl’s is fancy), we checked back on Rose and, true to form, she had recovered beautifully. We hit the road again, this time keeping to a reasonable speed, with Nate reprimanding me if I started to let it creep over 65. Despite our slower pace, we managed to make it to Bryce Canyon that night, found a campsite, and checked ourselves in around 10 p.m. By the time we got into the park, it had long been dark so we didn’t catch even a glimpse of what the next few days would hold for us, but I had a feeling we were going to wake up to some spectacular scenery.

Portland <3

The clean air and laidback vibe of this city make it easy to breathe here. As soon as Nate and I rolled into the city I was like “oh yeah, I feel good about this place” (being greeted by a breathtaking view of Mount Hood didn’t hurt). We met up with my friend, Becky, who I met years ago while working at The Harp. I hadn’t seen Becky in years, and we’d barely talked over that time as well, but I hunted her down on Facebook a few months back and found out she had moved to Portland. I let her know way back then that I’d be visiting and she said I should stay with her, so that became the plan. Facebook certainly has its strong points. What a great reconnection this was. Becky took us in and gave us our own little apartment at her friend’s house, who was away (though we ended up just crashing with her most of the time). She and her twin sister, Kate, and their friends welcomed us with open arms. It was wonderful. I’ve never before been to a city where everyone is so chill and friendly! It was nuts; people were chatting us up everywhere and throwing us smiley waves and peace signs as we drove through the streets (maybe that was just Rose doin’ her thing It felt so welcoming.

After we met up with Becky and Kate at this cool little bar called the Landmark Saloon in Southeast Portland, we headed out to North Portland for a bit because my friend, Sean, was doing a poetry reading. He gave us directions to this little place called The Oubliette, which ended up being a speakeasy-type place in someone’s basement. It was totally decked out and there were several poets that read their work. I met Sean when we were both volunteers at the Western Socially Engaged Buddhist Symposium last summer. He finished out the night with a poem that referenced Anne Waldman’s poetry reading at the symposium. It was so right on, and was especially cool to hear his take on a moment in time that we both experienced. I’ve never been to a poetry reading before, and definitely never heard a friend of mine read. It was really inspiring to hear someone I know share personal poems of such a raw nature. Everyone at the poetry reading was super-talented, but Sean had a different feel. His unapologetic honesty shook the vibe up a bit and ended up feeling really refreshing among more mellow poetry. Rock on, my friend.

On Friday Becky took us up to the Washougal River, just over the border in Washington. We spent a few hours soaking up the sun and enjoying the cool, refreshing river water before we headed back to Portland so Becky could go to work. She was a serious trooper all weekend, hanging out with us during the days and working until the wee morning hours at her bar/restaurant jobs. Kate pretty much had the same schedule, and she worked at a bar with Wifi, so after the river on Friday we headed to Eugenio’s to hang with Kate and get some blogging and other computer work done. We must have been having too much fun on this day because the only picture we got was this one of Kate throwing water on her friend, Alan, at Eugenio’s:

These Portland people know how to have fun. I kept thinking that it would be so great to live here, but also difficult for me to be productive. A prime example: we were at Eugenio’s for five hours trying to get stuff done and people walking by and at neighboring tables kept chatting us up and jokingly giving us crap about working on our computers. I can see how I would easily get sucked into a carefree way of life here. I felt so light and happy the whole time inPortland. We were, however, told that we came at the best time as far as the weather goes. I’d have to visit again during the 8 months of rain before making a decision as to whether or not I could really live there. However, a conversation that happened later on Friday night did make me think twice about this logic.

After Becky got out of work we went back to her house to hang out. Her friend Steve happened to be walking by at 1 a.m. and decided to pop in. We were raving about how much we were loving the city and got to talking about the rain. Becky and Steve agreed that people probably just say the rain is bad so that everyone doesn’t move to Portland. Becky was telling us earlier that people seemed to be flocking to Portland, especially people our age, and especially since the show Portlandia aired. In an effort to prevent the city from getting overcrowded, I can see how people might use talk of the rain to deter outsiders. Until I experience eight straight months of rain, though, I remain skeptical. Another interesting conversation that popped up while talking with Steve is the fact that he scaled El Capitan the week before. This was crazy to hear, seeing as how Nate and I just came from Yosemite as well and had talked about the crazies that did this. Nate informed me my first day in Yosemite that people would rock climb up the face of El Capitan (here’s a pic of it to refresh your memory):

El Capitan. Steve slept hanging off this mountain!

 As if that weren’t crazy enough, apparently it’s not possible to get up it in one day, so people will SLEEP ON THE FACE OF THE MOUNTAIN.  Just hang there, thousands of feet up a huge rock, and sleep. Ha! As if I could relax enough to sleep in that position. Apparently Steve could though. It was kind of nutty to meet someone that’s done one of the scariest things I could imagine doing. I was also a little bit nervous and questioned his sanity, but he seemed like a pretty nice guy so I tried not to worry. But it did make me wonder how many people I meet every day that do crazy shit that I’m not privy too. People are so mysterious and awesome sometimes. I love it. Also, here’s a nice picture of Becky talking on the zucchini phone. I was napping when this happened so I have no real explanation of the picture, but I like it…

Our friend Matty flew in late Friday night, making it a serious Harp reunion, as Nate, Becky, Matty, and I are all former employees. Shout out to The Harp Irish Pub in Amherst, MA for being awesome and giving me wonderful friends So Saturday proceeded much like Friday, with hours spent on the river followed by hanging around in Portland. The four of us went back to the Washougal River, but drove a little farther up this time, as Kate had told Becky that there was a place with waterfalls. The spot ended up being huge and full of waterfalls and little pools and streams and rocks to hang out on. We remembered the camera this time so I can show you how awesome this place is:

 

A couple group pics…

Admiring the view…

If you’re ever in Portland or nearby, I highly recommend this place. There were a lot of people there but it was so big that it didn’t feel crowded.

Washougal River, Washington

Becky had to go to work bartending when we got back to Portland, so Nate, Matty, and I decided to go eat some wings and hang out with her at the bar for a bit. I called my good old O’town buddy, Althea, who moved to Portland about a year ago, and let her know that I was in town. She met up with us at Becky’s bar and it was a fabulous reunion. Althea told me about her experience in Portland, overall a very positive one. She seemed really happy to see someone from home and we got a bit nostalgic. She told me I was only the second person from Orange to see her in Portland! That made me feel quite special

It’s so much fun to see people I’ve known forever in totally new places from where we’re used to seeing each other. I’ve crossed paths with a few friends in some of the cities I’ve visited on this journey, but due to timing haven’t actually been able to see them. It’s funny to me how things work out; that I could be in the same city as a friend of mine, across the country from where we both live, and not see them. But we all have our own plans and sometimes the timing is just off. I feel like I want to go off on a tangent right now about timing. I’ve recently begun to accept how important it is, especially in relationships, but in all aspects of life in general. There are so many times when circumstances almost line up perfectly, but one little thing, like timing, can throw the whole thing off. It makes me wonder why everything else fits so well if it’s never meant to work out, but I try not to think about it too hard because it mostly seems pointless. Instead of trying to figure it out, I’m working on accepting as a fact of life that timing sometimes works in our favor, and sometimes does not, and that’s just the way it goes. So far on this trip things have mostly worked out for us, and I’ve gotten a chance to reconnect with a lot of wonderful people, and meet some amazing new people as well, so I’m really grateful for that. Take Saturday night inPortland, for example. After we spent a few hours at Becky’s bar, Kate met up with us and took us to a party. There weren’t a whole lot of people there but everyone that we met was SO friendly. The hosts welcomed us warmly, and fed us a bunch of food and beverages. They even expressed their gratitude for us being there, as the homeowner had apparently hoped that a bunch of strangers would show up. What a fantastic mentality. Who hopes for a bunch of random strangers to show up at their housewarming party? Open-hearted folk in Portland do. Yet another reason I am loving this city.

Since the river was such a lovely place to be on Friday and Saturday, we decided to go back on Sunday, this time to the Salmon River. The plan for the day was to follow directions we’d gotten from Kate who, along with her friend Sara, was already at the river. Once we met them we’d hang out at the river for a while, then make our way to Frank’s house, who was a friend of Kate and Becky’s and recommended this river spot.

We were excited to check out a new river and this spot was supposed to have a beach and everything. When we got there, Becky told us that our directions were to cross the bridge and walk until we can’t walk anymore. I don’t think it gets more vague than that, but we figured with such skimpy directions the place would probably be easy to find. HAHAHAHAHAHA. FAT CHANCE.

We crossed a bridge and started walking uphill on this weird, wide path covered in hay. We’d walked about a half mile up this hill and were questioning if we were going in the right direction. Luckily we ran into a couple people coming down the hill and they let us know that we were going in the direction of the river. They told us to keep going and then we’d see a boulder and we should take a right. In retrospect, they must have been fucking with us. If I saw a bunch of dopes hiking up a mountain with beach bags and inflatable rafts, I might have fucked with them too. Well, probably not (jerks!), but I can’t really blame them that much. Somehow our group mentality was that we would reach the river eventually, even though we were going up a mountain, we couldn’t see water, and the sound of the river was fading fast.

We hiked about a mile up the hay path, where the path ended and we did indeed see a boulder (along with the hundreds of other boulders we saw along the way), so we took a right and headed into the woods. We hiked another mile into the woods, and the forest just kept getting denser and quieter. Did I mention we were hiking uphill? The ENTIRE way. There was nary a flat spot for us to catch our breath. Nate was carrying a big, awkward bag filled with sausage and a portable stovetop. Becky had two straw beach bags that were scraping her bare skin the whole way. I toted two deflated floaties; the plastic causing my forearms to sweat like they never have before, which made it difficult to maintain my grip. We were all wearing bathing suits and sandals, and we had one bottle of water between the three of us. Needless to say, we were well-prepared for an impromptu hike at dusk. What a fine time it was!

We had stopped several times along the way and speculated that we were not going in the right direction. Becky kept saying that Frank had said that it “wasn’t that far” to the river. We asked if Frank was the type to go for epic hikes and think that two miles (wasn’t that far), and she was pretty sure that Frank was not the hiking type, and that Kate and Sara would not have walked this far either. Circumstances being what they were, we had felt it necessary to continue on for as far as we did, because after the half mile marker or so, it became one of those “we’ve come this far already, we might as well go a bit farther to see if it’s around the next corner. We probably rounded 30 or so corners that only resulted in more long stretches of hill, all of which led to yet another corner offering the dim hope of an entrance to the river, never to be found. After two miles and over an hour of this horrendous hike to nowhere that Nate dubbed “The Faith Trail”, we lost faith. It was time for a drink of water and a photo:

 

Becky suggested we bound down the trail, as it would be faster. We all agreed that this was a good idea. We chatted a bit longer and then I started down the trail walking. I’d made it about 30 feet when I heard Becky behind me saying in a very serious voice “I wasn’t kidding about bounding”. I laughed and began to bound. It was faster than walking and a lot of fun. I highly recommend it, though it does use up a lot of energy very quickly. We had about a minute or two of bounding before my poor little heart said “no more!”, and we walked the rest of the way, stopping only for a couple pictures.

The last stretch of hike…

We speculated along the way about what could have happened, and wondered why Kate and Sara didn’t leave us a note if the place was so hard to find. When we got back down to the car, their car was gone, and this time there was a note. It had directions to Frank’s house; thank god for that. Becky was hell-bent on getting in the river, even though it was getting dark, was no longer hot, and the river was FREEZING, to put it lightly. Nate and I decided our interest in the river had died, but we accompanied Becky down to watch her jump in. Just putting my feet in the water bordered on painful, and I commended Becky for being so brave. She stood out on a rock, preparing to jump in, and we offered encouragement from the riverbank. After some deep breathing, Becky took the plunge, and came to the surface screaming, but smiling as well. Hearing her yell and seeing the look on her face caused me to have an inexplicable urge to go in. Becky said she was going to do it again and I told her I would join her. When we got out to the rock I admitted that there was a very large part of me that felt strongly opposed to doing this, but that there was something inside me saying I would be glad if I did. Becky recommended taking several fast deep breaths to pump myself up, and also told me that I should feel free to yell when I emerged. I did so and with every ounce of courage I could muster, jumped in. Now, I’m not one to scream about much of anything. I don’t tend to scream on roller coasters, jumping off cliffs, or even skydiving, but I heeded Becky’s advice and screamed my head off as soon as I came up. I don’t actually know if it was involuntary or a decision I made consciously, but once I started I couldn’t stop and, let me tell you, it was GREAT. I came out of that river feeling alive and renewed, especially after that god-awful hike. After seeing how much Becky and I enjoyed the experience, Nate decided he had to go in as well. Unlike the two of us, he wasted no time with deep breaths and instead ran across the rocks and dove right in. He did, however, scream the same when he got out, and desperately swam faster than both of us combined to get to shore. We all agreed that it was a good idea, and thanked Becky for insisting we go down to the river. The next day, when Nate and I were driving toSeattle, we would recap how great that swim was and Nate would say ‘Becky taught us something about how to live”, to which I would wholeheartedly agree.

After Nate and my river baptism (WOW that is a seriously dramatic statement, but I will say it anyway), we headed on out to Frank’s house. Long story short, we turned around at least six times on the drive due to going the wrong way. This was not our day for finding things. We did however find his house eventually and were greeted by Frank, Kate, and Sara, who were happy to see us and curious about what happened to us on the river. We told them the whole story and they laughed at us. They told us that it was a very short walk to the river (Becky was right that Frank was not a hiker). They said that they had walked up the hay hill about 75 yards before saying screw it and coming back down (turns out Becky was also right about the fact that Kate and Sara would not walk two miles to get to a river). Apparently they got lucky and ran into Frank on their way out, and he showed them where to go. Knowing that we’d probably not find it on our own either, they did indeed leave us a note on the car (which we never looked for), and made a big “B” for Becky in the hay with a bunch of stick and stone arrows pointing us in the right direction (which we also did not look for). They also walked around looking for us for quite some time before finally giving up and heading to Frank’s house. This made us feel better about the fact that they did all they could to get us to river, but worse about our own common sense. We had a good laugh about our misfortune and decided it was time for food and wine.

Frank was a phenomenal host. He bought pizza and drinks; halved and carved out limes, which he then filled tequila and froze; baked two different kinds of fruit and cheese tarts; made homemade ice cream; set us up a tent and blew up an air mattress, and was just all around really awesome. Thanks Frank! Nate left him some homemade limoncello as a thank you.

We spent the night there and were planning to leave first thing in the morning. Frank’s friend, Justin, showed up right as we were about to leave, though, and apparently he is a chef and supernice guy, too, as he had come over to make us breakfast. What was this place?! Awesome, that’s what. So we decided to hang around for a bit longer and eat some breakfast stroganoff (I’m not even sure what it was but it was delicious). We then said goodbye to Becky and headed north. It was a bittersweet goodbye, as it had been an incredible visit. I was so grateful to reconnect with Becky and finally meet Kate. If you guys are reading this, thank you for showing me the best time I’ve had in a while in Portland. And thanks to Becky for teaching Nate and I how to live a little bit more fully <3

The Pacific Northwest – Rte. 1, the Redwood Forest, and the Oregon Coast

We left San Francisco first thing Tuesday morning and headed north toward the Redwood forests. Having had one too many margaritas at the open mic on Monday night, I was feeling less than stellar when the drive began. Being prone to car sickness anyway, a hangover was not the best thing for me to have when my day consisted of hours of driving on windy roads. I napped in the backseat for a couple hours, and woke up right around when Rte. 1 looped back to the coast and things started to get REALLY nice. I was still feeling pretty crappy, but no amount of nausea could take away from the beauty of this drive.

view from the Pacific Coast Highway

The road was pretty windy and close to the cliffs.

Roadside cliffs.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this yet, but riding passenger in the Hearse terrifies me sometimes. Especially on roads like this, it often feels like the car is going to lose control and plummet into the ocean. Because of this fear, and my hangover, I decided that it would be best for me to drive for a bit.

Driving to fend off nausea

 Frequent pullovers for fresh air breaks were necessary. No better place to do it than on the California coast…

A lovely place for a break.

As the day wore on my pain started to dissipate, and by early evening I was feeling a solid 75% of my normal self. We came upon a beach somewhere a bit north of Fort Bragg, CA.

BEACH!

I suggested we stop and Nate was totally on board. We’d been over a week on the road and hadn’t gotten in any ocean time. I was craving it.

Apparently other people were craving the ocean too and, while the beach was not by any means crowded, there were some people around enjoying the spot. Everyone seemed so cute and happy (how could you not be here?!), which made for some heartwarming pictures.

Family beach time

It was a great place to bring dogs…

Speaking of dogs, Nate caught me in a moment of pure joy:

Because there were bulldogs!!!

Two of them!

I was really jealous of this girl. I wanted to steal her puppies. but she looked so heavenly wandering the beach with them that I couldn’t bring myself to do it…

woman in the flowy skirt with the adorable bulldogs

I love when the sun is all sparkly on the water…

There was a huge rock on the beach that was begging to be climbed, so Nate and I rose to the challenge. First Nate…

Nate climbing the rock

Then me…

me climbing the rock

 

And me practicing some yoga:

Natarajasana - dancer pose

And of course, no photo session would be complete with a picture of a log. Apparently deadwood is my new favorite thing to photograph…

beach log

I’ve always loved the ocean, but I think I gained a new appreciation for it on this particular day. This is my first real road trip ever. It has been fun and exciting and eye-opening, but also a bit tiresome at times. After just 10 days on the road, camping and driving and dealing with unexpected difficulties, I can feel some weariness setting in. The hour or so that we spent on this beach has been the most calm I’ve felt thus far. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is about the beach and the ocean that soothes me, but its effect is undeniable. I made a mental note about how relaxed and refreshed I felt after the ocean pit stop, and I will keep that in mind as I get older and think about where I want to settle. I think I might be a better person living on the ocean than I would be anywhere else…

We weren’t twenty minutes back on the road when Nate, with his impressive vision and alertness, spotted a whale. We veered off the highway and went running down the road in hopes of spotting it again and catching some pictures. I was hoping to see it breach, but alas, it did not. We did get pretty lucky though and were able to get some pictures of it spewing water out its blowhole.

I also got some pictures of these fuzzy pink grasses that I’d been admiring for miles and had yet to capture on film:

This one is the best:

As the light waned, we approached Redwood territory. I saw a sign for the “Famous Drive Through Tree”, and veered off to check it out, since it was less than a mile off course. As we approached the gate, it felt very tourist-trappy, and I doubted that this was THE drive through tree; I’m guessing there are more. But how often does one get to drive a hearse through a tree, so we went on in.

I was nervous the the car wasn’t going to fit, but once I was through the tree I was pretty pumped about it:

driving through a Redwood calls for a goofy smile

Five dollars and five minutes later, we were done with the drive-through tree and it was time to find a campsite in Humboldt County. We knew we wouldn’t make it all the way up to where we were going to hike the next day, so we decided to find a site in the Redwoods, a couple hours south of where our final Redwood destination was. We reached the end of rte. 1, which felt like an accomplishment.

Around 9 p.m. we finally came across a campsite. The woman at the registration center was shocked at our late arrival, and we were shocked by the $35 camping fee. I guess we had entered serious tourist territory. It ended up being a pretty sweet site though, and we woke up surrounded by Redwoods.

Rosie in the Redwoods

 

Wednesday was the day for the Redwood forest hike. I was really excited about this one. Along with Sequoias, I really wanted to see Redwoods too. Who doesn’t like BIG trees? I had been looking forward to the Sequoias more, but just driving through the forest the day before, I was starting to feel partial to the Redwoods. We picked up a hitckhiker who described it well. We found him on the Avenue of Giants (best road name ever) pretty soon after we’d left camp. He was alone and had a huge pack, and I suggested we pick him up. Nate kept driving but I prodded him and he turned around. I get excited about hitchhikers. I always want to pick them up but feel like it’s unwise to do so as a lone female, so with Nate in the car to protect us, I thought it was a good idea to take advantage of the situation.

The hitckhiker’s name was Bjorn. He hailed from England and was roaming around the Pacific Northwest doing something called WWOOFing. I’d never heard of this before and Bjorn told us that since March he has been staying on farms and doing four hours of work per day in exchange for food and lodging; the rest of the time he had free to explore. Here’s the website for more information: http://www.wwoof.org/ It sounds like a pretty cool opportunity and I was thankful to Bjorn for exposing me to a cheap new way to travel. As for his opinion on roaming around the Redwoods, Bjorn said he was “starting to get a crick in his neck”. I believe it. 

An hour or so after we left Bjorn back on the side of the road, we reached Prairie Creek, the site of our hike.

 

 

Back in Redwood City (near San Francisco, not in the forest), Nate’s uncle Dennak recommended that we hike to Fern Canyon. The hike was 10 miles roundtrip. We hiked the majority of the way through Redwood groves:

BIG trees, GREEN leaves

 I couldn’t resist climbing…

Also couldn’t resist getting inside:

I could live in here!

And getting inside again…

 

 

We also couldn’t resist walking over fallen trees, as they made perfect little shortcut bridges!

 

Fallen Redwood

 

Check out the color and shapes of this wood. Love it!

 

Red Red wood

 

This forest is a prime spot for some pictures looking skyward:

 

spiral branches

 

Nate and I taking a break…

 

 

 

 

Near the end of the trail we reached Fern Canyon, a gully (ferngully!) whose 30 foot walls on either side were lined with various types of ferns and other greenery.

 

Entering fern canyon

 

Walking through the canyon:

 

 

There were little waterfalls coming down all the the canyon; you could feel the spray coming off the ferns…

It was SO green in here!

Fern Canyon

and then continued out into beach marshes.

sweet clouds

We hiked the last bit onto an almost deserted beach. The marshes leading up to the beach were gorgeous. I don’t think the vivid contrast of greens, yellows, and blues comes through in the pictures (I wish I had known about the “vivid contrast” setting on the camera at this point of the trip), but the place was spectacular.

 

The last picture I got before the camera died... at least it was a good one.

 

 

I must have gotten too camera happy over the previous five miles, because the camera died just before we got to the beach, so no beach pictures here. We did hang around for a good hour or so, snoozed for a bit, and did some yoga. We looked for elk that reside in the area, but didn’t have the privilege of seeing any. Rocky Mountain National park is supposed to be crawling with elk though, so I’ll hold out to see them there. Being at this beach was, once again, one of the most relaxing moments of the trip so far; a reiteration of how much my soul needs this landscape.

 

We discovered on the way back that there was beach camping only a stone’s throw from where we’d been lounging by the ocean, and cursed ourselves for not having come prepared. Since all our camping gear was back at the trailhead, we hiked the remaining five miles back through the Redwoods, which was equally awesome and exhausting. It was around 7 p.m. when we finished the hike, and decided it was worthwhile to make a push to get to Oregon before setting up camp. I’m glad that we did because as we drove up the coast we caught the most breathtaking sunset. We were speeding down the PCH, caught site of the colors on the water, and nearly flipped Rose with the quick U-turn we made while screaming ‘oh my god it’s SO nice!”

 

 

 

And one more for good measure:

 

 

 

With the sun gone, it felt like time again to find a camp. We checked a map and saw that Humbug State parkwas an hour or two into Oregon, and only $8 per night to camp. As soon as we entered the state of Oregon, I had a feeling I was going to like it. Everything was so quaint and clean. Humbug was the cheapest and one of the best campsites we stayed in, and had the most impressively clean bathrooms I’ve seen at a campground yet. Oregon does a bang up job of keeping itself pristine and environmentally friendly.

Once again, we woke early and got right on the road. A couple people so far had told me that anywhere on the Oregon coast is a place to visit; they were right. It was as beautiful as the drive on the California coast, but a lot more green.

 

I intended to load more pictures but the internet connection in this cafe sucks ass. So you’ll have to catch them on Facebook.

In favor of getting on the road early, we’d skipped breakfast. Around 10 a.m. we got hungry and decided to stop at The Greasy Spoon. It lived up to it’s name. I ate some of the most delicious oatmeal I’ve ever had, and the waitress was a 70ish year old woman with a sweet attitude. We asked to borrow pens to write out some postcards and she threatened to hunt us down if we didn’t return them. During our breakfast, two young folks entered the restaurant. The boy walked behind the counter so I assumed he knew the owners. Our waitress commented that he was looking pretty good that day, which started an amusing interaction. It went something like this:

 Waitress: “Jake, you look like a real city slicker!” (note to reader: Jake was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt

Jake: “I know”

Waitress: “And humble too!”

Jake: “I piss excellence, grandma”

 That became the quote of the day, maybe the week or even the month. Let’s break it down: “I piss excellence” – a wonderful way to express one’s awesomeness. How exactly would a person “piss excellence”? Would it be really great urine, or something else entirely? The real kicker is the end of the sentence, though: “I piss excellence, grandma”. This is funny for a few reasons: 1) The words “piss” and “grandma” in the same sentence is a great combo. 2) Jake is a saucy young lad for addressing his grandma in that way. 3) Jake’s grandma is obviously awesome if she’s the kind of lady who will think it’s amusing for her grandson to say “I piss excellence”. If you’re ever inSoutheast Portland, go to The Greasy Spoon. The food is excellent and hopefully Jake and his grandmother will be there.

Up until the day before, I had been feeling a bit unsure of where we might stay. I had several friends in Portland but hadn’t solidified any solid plans. The day before we were set to get into Portland I finally admitted to Nate that I wasn’t sure where we’d be staying. He didn’t seem to be worried, and I had faith as well that it would work out. I finally got in touch with my friend Becky and she let me know that she would be happy to host us through the weekend. With our itinerary a bit more fleshed out, we decided to spend the day driving and get to Portland before nightfall. We drove up the Oregon Coast until it no longer made sense to go north, then cut inland and were on our way to Portland!

Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair

We rolled into SF around 3 a.m. Friday morning. After camping for a few days and the Tawonga situation, I was ready to transition to a city setting for a while. We found parking (five-ish blocks downhill from Anita’s place – as if we hadn’t hiked enough in Yosemite!), and walked up some infamous San Francisco hills to get to Anita’s apartment. Anita had told me on the phone that she had moved into a new apartment on Fell Street less than a week before we arrived. She said that the place was really cool and that I would like it a lot. She was right. I walked in and the décor was really artsy and colorful.

Anita's apartment in San Francisco

 

There was so much to look at. I had to get a few pictures…

 

                                                                                                   

blah blah blah I wish I knew how to put pictures in a row without writing text in between… if anyone knows how to work WordPress well, I am in need of some guidance.

Sweet painting

These guys were pretty into music…

A bunch of records, instruments, and art.

Anita’s room was especially cool…

wall painting in Anita's bedroom

 This wall is my favorite:

The view from the apartment window was pretty cool too. I was in the process of getting a picture of the mosaic on the wall across the street and happened to catch a tour bus rolling by, making for a solid San Francisco tourist picture:

Anita was in the Peace Corps in Paraguay for two years. She came back in April of this year and I had seen her once out in Montague a couple months back, but that was the extent of our visits over the past two and a half years, so I was really excited to have a weekend to hang out. As soon as we got into the apartment she regaled us with some funny stories of her life so far in San Fran. She told us of her job as a substitute teacher for foreign students learning English, which suddenly became a full-time job where she was expected to prepare them for a test she knew nothing about. Apparently they caught on that she was thrown into this situation without knowing much about it. She told us how they all have been struggling together, and that she got some not so great evaluations from the students. Her light-hearted self-deprecation always cracks me up and reminds me of the importance of not taking oneself too seriously.

Our first day in the city, Nate and I decided we should hit up a coffee shop and get some blogging done. Anita had to work until four that day, so her roommate, Delvin, told us he would take us to a sweet spot for some brunch and wifi. We went to The Beanbag Café, which coincidentally ended up being the café that Nate met his cousin at the last time he was in the city, four years ago, so that was kind of funny. When Anita got out of work we met up with her and joined some of the students from her school on an excursion to the Golden Gate Bridge. We walked halfway onto the bridge. It was foggy and windy and misting and really cold, but otherwise pretty neat. We even got to see some harbor porpoises and a crazy dude parasailing. It wasn’t clear enough to see a whole lot of the bridge but we got some cool pics:

Golden Gate Bridge

Anita and I tried to keep each other warm…

 

Since it was too cloudy to get solid pictures of the bridge, I went for flowers…

GGB in flowers

 And some closeups:

One more…

Later on Friday, we checked out a little dive bar on Haight Street. It was a cool little scene and we got to chat with some locals, but we were feeling a bit tired and decided it would be best to go back to Anita’s house and relax and play some music. Anita plays guitar, sings, and writes her own songs. I LOVE her music. Before she went to the Peace Corps I remember visiting her in NYC and she serenaded me in the bathroom while I took a shower. It was lovely. Almost every time I see her I get the privilege of listening to her play her music. I hadn’t heard her since before Paraguay and she had a whole bunch of new songs. Nate brought his bongos along on the journey and Anita’s housemates have a bunch of instruments, so we decided to have a little jam session. I even joined in for a bit on the bongos and maracas! I need to do this more often; playing music is FUN. Mostly I just sat and enjoyed Anita, though. I even got a video of Anita playing a Decemberists song (I don’t want to post her original music here as she hasn’t copywritten it yet). Here it is:

On Saturday morning we met the house snake, quite unexpectedly. Anita had mentioned that a snake lived there and as I was walking down the hall on Saturday I realized that this snake roams free throughout the house as she pleases. I’m glad that I became friendly with snakes in the past year, otherwise it may have freaked me out, as she is pretty big:

big snake

After that we headed to Oakland to visit Nate’s aunt Edie and cousin Gabe (of Camp Tawonga). They fed us some delicious bagels with various spreads and we relaxed for a few hours, which was really nice. It’s always nice to see family when you haven’t for a while, even if it’s not your own. Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc; they all know how to make us youngins feel loved and taken care of, which I appreciate a lot. Edie even taught us some pretty cool stuff that we have been passing along to everyone we meet.

Edie is a physical therapist and she showed us some really good exercises to do with a foam roller. Laying for five minutes on a foam roller felt amazing on my back and I was blown away by how big a difference it made in how much of my back touched the floor while laying prostrate. We raved about how much we loved it enough that Edie decided to give us a foam roller and a couple half rollers. I highly recommend everyone try these. Here is a link to more information: http://www.power-systems.com/n-233-rollers-a-balancing-act-for-clients.aspx We have been making all our friends lie on the rollers and everyone is astonished by what it does to their backs. Seriously, it’s like $15 online for one of these things. Give it a try.

A shout out to Edie for being awesome and improving my back situation. It was a really nice, albeit short, visit, but it was a wonderful reminder of how even the smallest interactions with people throughout the course of one’s day can change one’s life. I’m definitely not going to forget Edie and her foam rollers, so thanks Edie!

Me, Edie, and Nate

After Oakland, Nate and Gabe and I went up to Redwood Cityto see Nate’s uncle Dennak (Gabe’s dad). Dennak had a house in the hills with an awesome view from a big deck that he and Gabe had built together. Dennak took us out to eat some delicious Thai food,

delicious Thai

and then we just relaxed at the house, did some laundry, and enjoyed a view of the hills and night sky from the hot tub on the deck. All in all it was a pretty awesome day.

Both Edie and Dennak gave us some solid advice for places to check out on our trip, and we ended up scratching Yellowstone, Wyoming, and Montana in favor of Southern Utah. They both told us that Southern Utah was weirdly beautiful and otherworldly, a description that was very enticing, so we decided to heed their advice and make the switch. Since then, every person we have told about our plan to go to Southern Utah has had a very positive reaction, and has confirmed that we’ve made a good decision.

On Sunday we headed back out to San Francisco to hang with Anita for a couple more days. When we got back into town we decided to check out Golden Gate Park. We never actually made it there because we spent a decent amount of time wandering around Haight Street, which was really lively at 5 o clock on a Sunday afternoon. We caught a happy hour deal at a bar and did some good people watching and enjoyed a cocktail. We also got some pictures of the city on our walk:

Nate on the Haight

There was so much art on the houses and buildings. I like this one a lot…

Forever 27

We also ran into some pretty interesting people. There was Burt with a “u” (as he introduced himself). We found him in a little park and he was unusually friendly so we chatted for a bit. He told us of how he came to SF some 40 years ago and has been here since. He also invited us to his house to check out a real Victorian and see some of the old dishes that he sells. We had other things planned, and we’d known Burt for five minutes, so we declined the offer. He said something to us before we went that has stuck with me though: he told us that he was really grateful for our generation, and that we were wonderful and necessary. I don’t often hear that, and it was really touching to have a stranger in the park let us know that the older folk love us and that he feels we are going to change the world. Very cool. Here is Nate with Burt:

Burt and Nate

We also came across a couple young dudes hanging out on the street asking for money. Nate gave one of them a light and I gave them a dollar. They said that they were taking up a collection for beer, but hey, at least they were honest. I really like the sign that one of them had so I asked if we could take a picture.

Too Sexy to Work

 They let me know that they were totally cool with a picture and were happy that I’d ask. they said they don’t mind if people take their picture as long as they give them a heads up first so that they don’t feel like zoo animals. They asked us about our travels and we mentioned that we were headed up to the Redwood Forest next. One of them told me that they filmed the Ewok part of Star Wars in the Redwood Forest. I told him I hadn’t seen Star Wars and he was pretty disappointed. He then told me that he’d heard that the Ewok village still existed and there were a bunch of hippies living there that would let us hang out in the village but only if we brought them bowls and beer. He then said that he couldn’t actually recommend we check it out because he had no idea what was really going on there, but had heard that people lived up there. I took that as a distinct possibility that it didn’t exist or was sketchy, so we decided not to look for it. My curiosity has been peaked though so maybe someday I’ll look for it.

We also saw a girl walking down the street with a bird on her head.

Terrifying!

We finished out Sunday night with a decadent dinner at Lavash. Delvin (who apparently knows what’s up with places to eat in SF), gave us a vivid description of the dinner he’d had recently at Lavash. He talked it up enough that we decided we had to go, so we checked it out on Sunday and Delvin was right; it was SO yummy. I highly recommend this place if you’re ever in the city: http://www.lavashsf.com/ I ate Zereshk Polo. It was one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.

We had originally planned to leave the city on Monday, but Anita had mentioned that she was playing an open mic at the Hotel Utah on Monday night. After our Friday jam session, she and Nate had talked about playing together, so we decided to hang around and go to the open mic, as Nate was pretty jazzed about playing. We spent Monday wandering around Golden Gate Park, which is HUGE. Having just come from Yosemite, it was more difficult than usual to see the beauty of a city park, especially because there were big roads weaving throughout it. Nonetheless, there were some pretty cool things going on in there that I enjoyed.

Golden Gate Park

More wildlife too!

Turtle friend!

 and ducks too!

Waterfall!

Flowers

After the park we made our way over to The Hotel Utah to check out the open mic. We ended up hanging out for a few hours before Anita and Nate went on, and got to see a lot of really great local talent. One girl sounded just like Mazzy Star, it was awesome. Around eleven Nate and Anita went on, and I was excited as always to listen to Anita. I’d only seen her perform at a venue once before, and it was really cool to see how much people love her. She played a song that I’d heard her play a few years ago, and it sounded great with Nate on the bongos. It was a really great way to end our time in the city.

Overall, San Francisco was great. I really liked the artsy and creative feel of the city, and it I one of the more diverse cities I’ve been to (this coming from someone from Western MA), which I like a lot. I can’t get down with the weather, but aside from that the people, the food, the culture, and most everything else I experienced while there was pretty cool. I’ll certainly be back again.

Last Day at Yosemite – We Should Have Never Left

We found a cool little spot in a park near some meadows (I’m all about the meadows now!) and Nate was my guinea pig for some yoga teaching. We did a serious hour-long session and focused on breathing and stretching our sore muscles. It was kind of cool to teach someone something about what I’ve been learning in my yoga training. Plus it always just feels good to stretch. I’ve held the intention to do a lot of yoga on this trip, but so far it’s proved difficult to fit it in among all the other activities we have going on. Same with blogging, to be honest. I’m enjoying this process but I’ve realized how time-consuming it can be. It often becomes a choice of doing something cool, or setting aside time to write about the cool things I’m doing. Both are worthwhile, but so far the doing of the cool things has taken precedence over the writing, which is the way to go, I think.

After our yoga session, we stopped and caught a few pictures of El Capitan. We had so many serious scenic pics, it felt appropriate to get a bit silly…

Fingerwalking on El Capitan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I move mountains…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nate chillin with the Cap

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were trying to get out of the park by afternoon and make it out to Camp Tawonga before dark to visit Nate’s cousin, Gabe, but we were addicted to Yosemite. We decided it would be wise to drive out to Glacier Point to check out a view of the park I hadn’t seen (Nate had been there before). It was.

 

View from Glacier Point

 Nate and I at the top

The falls from Glacier Point:

We even got some more pictures of chipmunks and squirrels!

 

This one was enjoying the view…

 

As I am no stranger to these creatures, I found it curious that I kept getting so excited about seeing and photographing them. In my defense, there were some species that were new to me:

After Glacier Point, we decided to head out of Yosemite. It was so hard though; we kept passing things we hadn’t seen yet! Nate wisely pulled off at Bridalveil Falls so we could hike up, as we hadn’t seen a waterfall up close yet. We got really lucky and caught a fabulous view of the waterfall, rainbow and everything.

We wandered up the rocks a ways to get a closer look. Check it out:

DISCLAIMER: I am about to go on a rant based on my experience with Camp Tawonga. This camp is rumored to be completely awesome. Nate’s cousin, Gabe, speaks very highly about how this camp has positively affected his life. Apparently they tell people to be a vessel, not a dam, which is really cool. So they’re ok with me. But for effect, I must tell the story as I experienced it.

As we were walking back to the car from the waterfall, it was starting to get a bit dark. Oh wait! I forgot to mention that we saw a coyote on the way out! here it is:

Coyote!

We had failed our mission to try and get to Camp Tawonga before dark. It wasn’t that the camp was particularly far away, it’s just that we’d been warned it wasn’t exactly the easiest place to find, which turned out to be true. Nate had some pretty foggy directions to start with, and we got turned around before we even entered the serious backwoods. We stopped at an inn and got some more vague directions, but we had faith we could figure it out. Let me tell you this, Camp Tawonga does NOT want to be found. We got as far as a sign on a little dirt road that said “Tawonga: 2 miles”, and then it was a shitshow. It was a 7 mile stretch of road with no signage whatsoever. In lieu of road signs, there were cows. What looked to be wild cows. In the middle of the road. We passed them several times as we drove up and down the godforsaken backroad looking for any signs of non-cow life. There were none. After a few passes through the stretch of road that we felt had to contain a path to Tawonga (from what we could see, it did not), we drove all the way to the end of the road and ended up at a camp. Nate became visibly excited and insisted that it was Tawonga. I was doubtful. I could sense his certainty stemmed more from a sense of desperation than any real indicators that we were in the right place. We approached the visitor center and Nate asked if we were atCampTawonga. The woman said that we were not and immediately asked if Camp Tawonga was expecting us, as they would not let us in otherwise. This struck me as a red flag. After a moment of hesitation, Nate responded that we were expected. I took this as well as a red flag. Prior to our driving out here, Nate and his cousin had made some plans for us to visit Tawonga. The details of the visit were as vague as our directions and my gut told me that something was amiss. This bad feeling was exacerbated by the directions we got from the woman at the wrong camp. Basically we were told that we should take a left at “the box” on the side of the road. Anytime something is that poorly marked, it’s a pretty strong signal to “stay the hell away”. We forged ahead nonetheless.

We found the camp and Nate enjoyed a brief celebration as we approached the gate. I remained skeptical. Everything about the place screamed “You are not welcome!” Any camp with a huge locked gate and an intercom system feels pretty closed-off to outsiders to me. And we were certainly outsiders. Nate rang up someone on the intercom and told him of our situation. The man responded that Gabe must have forgotten us, because he wasn’t currently on the intercom. A conversation ensued in which Nate asked the man if Gabe was around, and the man said “he’s not sleeping with me!” Ouch. That was a bad sign. This man was apparently sleeping and not at all interested in helping us out. Nate went back and forth with him for awhile and the guy just would not budge. Basically the conversation ended with Nate pleading with the guy to let us in, and the guy saying “No I’m not gonna let you in, I don’t know who ya are!” So that was that. We were out in the middle of nowhere (there were wild cows I tell you!), and left with nowhere to sleep. I knew Nate was debating tossing up the tent wherever was handy, which made me pretty nervous considering that were weren’t too far fromYosemiteand that park seemed to take some serious precautions to prevent bear attacks. We had nothing available to protect us from bears (or hungry cows) out here near Camp Tafuckya, and I was NOT down with camping this far from society. I rang up Anita in San Francisco, who we were headed to see in the morning, and asked if it was cool for us to come that evening. It was, and we decided that was our best bet, pending a refill of the gas tank.

As I said, we were in the middle of nowhere. There have been few times in my life when I have felt so far off the beaten path that it makes me nervous. This was one of those times. We came upon a gas station just off the road to Tawonga, which was fortunate because the low fuel light was on. The gas station was closed, so we had to use our card at the pump. Pump number one was a fail. Pump number two was also a fail. By the time we pulled around to the third pump I knew that we would not be getting gas. Nate was determined to keep trying. After the debacle at the camp, he was visibly frustrated, an emotion that I’m not used to seeing from him. From the passenger seat, I witnessed his frustration come to a head at the faulty gas pumps. He was inserting his card into the gas pump with an anger I’d never seen before in that motion. I couldn’t see his face, but I watched his hand violently shove the card into the slot and rip it out, over and over again with no luck. The hilarity of the situation struck me suddenly and I became hysterical. Nate gave up on the gas and got back into the car, and I couldn’t stop laughing. It was the kind of laughter that borders on a nervous breakdown and you’re not sure whether you’re laughing or crying. But it was mostly laughing, which lightened the mood a bit. After that we shifted gears and were ready to head into the urban jungle. San Francisco, here we come.

 

Day Two of Yosemite = Perfection

Day two began with a fancy camping breakfast of steak and eggs with home fries. Boo yah. Originally, the plan for this day was to hike to Cloud’s Rest, a 14.5 mile roundtrip hike to 9,926 feet. At the end of the day yesterday, Nate asked me what I thought about switching up the plan and doing a shorter hike. I was totally on board as this had been on my mind a bit anyway. We only had three days inYosemiteand a shorter hike meant we would have more time and energy to check out some other parts of the park. It ended up being an excellent decision.

 We settled on hiking up to North Dome, which is about 10 miles roundtrip. The elevation once you get out there is around 7,500 feet, about 600 feet lower than the elevation at the trailhead. To get to the trailhead we drove up Tioga Road, which was a solid 45 minute drive from our campsite at Crane Flat. As I mentioned before, the park is huge, and it took us 30 minutes to an hour to drive just about anywhere we were looking to go. It was cool, though, as the views of the valley during the drive were spectacular.

Views driving through the park.

The hike up to North Dome was challenging, though relatively flat much of the way, which was nice considering we packed about 35 pounds into our pack. That might not sound like much, but for me hiking up and down steep rocks with a backpack proved difficult. Especially for the first half of the hike when I didn’t realize that I was supposed to clip those little clippy things across my chest and waist. What a difference THAT makes. Nate had it worse, though, as he carried the pack about 2/3 of the way. Regardless, I felt a little bit badass for carrying it at all and made Nate take a picture of me with it to document my hardcore hiking nature.

Flat ground was a blessing

 We got a bit turned around at one point and ended up at Indian rock by happy accident. It’s Yosemite’s only natural arch formation and definitely worth the .6 mile detour from the North Dome trail. As we approached Indian Rock we ran into some fellow hikers we had chatted with earlier on the trail and they greeted us with a “you made it!” We were just starting to celebrate our finish when we heard them say “now you just gotta get up to North Dome”. Damn. Back to the trail. Not before we hung out for a bit on top of the arches and got some sweet pics, though.

Indian Rock

It was a pretty steep hike up an unstable pebble-covered hill to get up here.

Nate at Indian Rock

Nate climbed on top of a serious rock formation and made me a bit nervous. Looked like a nice view though…

View from Indian Rock

On the trail down from Indian Rock we ran into a couple hikers that had made the same mistake as us. We told them that North Dome wasn’t that way and they followed us down the trail. One of the hikers told Nate that he bore a striking resemblance to a coworker of hers named Stetson. As I was racking my brain wondering why I felt like Nate did have a connection to the name Stetson, he informed the woman that his middle name is Stetson. Ah yes, that was it. Random. Coincidences like that always make me feel this warm feeling inside. I’m not sure what it is. They are like nice little reminders of the connection that exists between us all. I may be reading too much into them, but that’s ok, because it makes me feel nice to let myself believe that coincidences have meaning…and who knows, maybe they do. Those two hikers met up with the rest of their group and we walked with them to what we thought was the peak. Until we got there and realized that we were still at least a 30 minute hike from the end. We parted ways with that group of hikers (not before the woman got a picture of Stetson’s twin, Nathan Stetson), and linked up with a couple as we were walking the last mile or so to North Dome. We all got a bit lost together – a lot of these trails leave something to be desired when it comes to signage – and ended up hiking out to the peak and having lunch with each other and the chipmunks. We were warned that there were some brazen chipmunks on the mountain, ready to dive into your backpack and steal your food while your back is turned, or in front of your face. Nate wanted to get a video of them so I set a breadcrumb trap and waited. It didn’t take long before we were swarmed with chipmunks running around looking for food. They were so cute!

Nom Nom Chipmunk!

Oh yeah, the view was pretty cool too…

North Dome

Totally worth the 5 mile walk…

View of Half Dome from North Dome

Nate and I at the top:

This shit was crazy…

Holy Half Dome

To put it mildly, we were pretty excited to be up there.

Yeah!

I even got in some yoga: 

I love arm balances

I couldn’t resist a mountaintop headstand either. I admit, I’m kind of showing off here. But I just learned how to do these and I think it’s pretty cool…

North Dome yoga

Oh! I forgot to mention that we ran into a deer on our hike up. Here’s a pic!

Deer in the forest!

 The deer was so cute. Especially in this picture:

Gesundheit!

It looks like he’s sneezing. 

So after we sat up on North Dome for an hour or so, it was time to hike back down. Not literally down. Like I said, North Dome is actually lower in elevation than where the trail starts, so we ended up hiking uphill for quite a while right at the end. After hiking for 6 hours, it was relatively painful to have to go up again. We did manage to muster up the energy to take some nice pictures on the return hike, though:

bear burl!

There are so many animals hidden in these big trees.

FISH.

And hidden among the stones in the stream. Nate decided to try and get a closer look:

Nate lookin' for fishes

Almost back to the car! Taking a quick break before the final leg:

Taking a break by the stream

 If you can’t tell from the pics, I was a bit red by the end of the day. The only thing that kept this day from being totally perfect was that I forgot to put sunscreen on. I currently have the worst sunburn that I’ve had since I was a teenager. I feel stupid. And peely. Ick. Don’t expect to see any up close shots of my skin in the coming days. Not that up close shots of my skin are the kind of pictures I’m trying to share with you anyway. But I digress. 

 

After hours of strenuous exercise and roasting in the sun, I pretty forcefully insisted that we go swimming. Nate did not appear to be overly enthused about this idea. I pretended not to notice, as I wanted nothing more than to find a lake and submerge. Our final destination for the day was Tioga Pass, an exit to the park that some of Nate’s friends had told him was a must-see. Nate kept talking about meadows up there. I was kind of thinking “meadow schmeadow, let’s find a lake”, but I didn’t need to say that as we were able to compromise, especially because Lake Tenaya was right on the way to Tioga Pass. As we approached the lake, it was late afternoon and the heat was still strong. I was grateful for this as the lake was classified as a glacial lake and described in the guidebooks as “chilly”. We approached the lake and it was like a shining beacon waiting to offer some reprieve from the heat of the air and my skin.

Lake Tenaya

 

I walked out onto the deserted beach and immediately felt the calm that comes with being near the water. I took a moment to sneak in a few shadow-yoga pics before Nate got out to the beach.

Shadow yoga

 

It was so quiet and empty. There have been many quiet moments in Yosemite. It has been a pleasant surprise to have them sneak up on me so frequently. And it’s real quiet too, not that kind of tricky quiet that only seems that way because your ears are comparing it to the hustle and bustle you’re used to. It’s that deep quiet. The actual absence of sound; the kind that you can hear and feel.

This was exactly what I needed after a long hike.

I stepped a toe in the water and knew I would have to gear myself up to go under. It took some serious self-talk to work up the courage to go all the way in, but it was worth it. Completely submerging myself in icy water after a strenuous hike made me feel like a new person. I always find it interesting how much a dreaded soak in freezing water can end up being the greatest feeling. I have a funny fear of extreme temperature change, but I force myself to endure it because the moment I come up and feel the contrast of warm sun on cold skin it’s totally worth it. I instantly feel alive and renewed, and then deeply relaxed.  

After Lake Tenaya, I was down to check out some meadows. Let me tell you, meadows are where it’s at. I had no idea about meadows. In the whole spectrum of natural landscapes that can be enjoyed, meadows have generally not been something that has crossed my mind. No more. We drove up towards Tioga Pass and hit Tuolumne Meadows. It might be my favorite part of Yosemite. As we entered the meadows, a baby fawn bounded gaily across the road and into the forest. Sadly, I did not get a pic, but it’s an image that’s forever seared into my memory. If I’m ever feeling down, I will conjure up the image of baby fawn leaping through the meadow and instantly feel warmed.

WARNING: If you haven’t already noticed, this section will be cheesy. It cannot be helped. I was touched by the meadows.

I marveled at the fact that we could go from mountaintop views to glacial lakes to vast meadows in the span of a few miles. Yosemite, you are phenomenal. I could describe the meadows, but pictures are easier, even though they don’t begin to do the place justice. Here they are anyway:

Tuolumne Meadows

 This one of my favorite pics from Yosemite:

I loved this rock.

This place felt like an awesome place to shoot a movie about Native Americans:

The spot where I realized that meadows are the shit.

We went through the meadows, stopping periodically, but set on getting all the way out to Tioga Pass, which we accomplished. When we got there, we pretty much just turned around and came back, but not before I snapped a few pics of a supercool tree.

this reminds me of the shire

Had to get an upshot of this one:

view from the bottom.

 On a side note, the trees, dead and alive, at Yosemite were awesome. And the rocks. And everything, really. I wish I had a more expansive vocabulary to describe these landscapes. Cool and awesome and phenomenal just don’t cut it. It’s the kind of scene that could make an atheist question their beliefs. Not that I really want to get into religion; I just don’t know how better to describe it. The juxtaposition of mountains and grasses and streams and huge stones and deadwood in these meadows is so perfectly pleasing to the eye that it feels like it must have been intentional. Obviously, I don’t know if there’s any truth in that, but I do know that feeling that way about a moment and place in time makes me feel like everything is right and alright in the world, which is pretty cool.

awesome stump

We ended our evening with a glass of wine and a sunset in the meadows.

Tuolumne Meadows sunset

It was the perfect end to a perfect day. It tickled me that the day came out of a spontaneous change of plans. We were both having a hesitant feeling about our original intention for the day, and we listened to our gut and switched things up, and it turned out great. Hooray for our ability to remain open and follow our instincts. If we keep this up throughout the rest of the trip, I think things will work out just fine

Lounging at the Meadows

Big Trees!

We rolled into Yosemite at 1:30 a.m. Tuesday morning. After driving for nine hours I was ecstatic that we were there, until Nate told me it would still take us another hour or so to get to our campsite. Holy. Huge. Park. I handed over the keys for the last stretch of windy mountain road, and took in the night views of the park. It was dark and woodsy, and I was tired, so I had no concept of the utopia I had just entered into. Nate kept giving me hints that we would be coming up on some pretty cool shit; namely El Capitan. I hadn’t done much research on Yosemite, or anywhere we’re headed for that matter. I figured that the less I prepared for and fantasized about what this trip would be like, the less expectations I would have, which is an ideal way to take on something new. This tactic kept me from getting too excited going into the trip, so I wasn’t feeling much of anything except weary as we drove through Yosemite. That is, until we busted through the forest into some clear spots and I was able to catch a glimpse of El Capitan and the rest of the mountainside.

El Capitan

The massive rocky backdrop was eerily beautiful in the 2 a.m. light of an almost full moon and sky full of stars. I was awestruck and borderline freaked out by the scene.

Whoa.

This was the first moment it struck me that I was on a serious adventure. From this point on, my default state was giddy.

Our first day in Yosemite was dedicated to Giant Sequoias. This was a big one on my list of things to see in my life. Probably Top 10, if not Top 5. I’ve even been toying with the idea of a sequoia grove tattoo for the past two years after being inspired by something Michael Franti said about them at a show (that’s all I can say about that, can’t give away too much!) We headed out to Mariposa Grove and ended up spending about five hours hiking around, taking pictures nonstop, hugging trees, and marveling at the size and color of these gorgeous tree beasts.

Mariposa Grove

This was one of the first pictures I took when we got into the Grove. Many more to follow. If i can figure out how to post an album on this site I’ll add more pics, otherwise, check Facebook for full photo albums.

Treehuggers

These are two shots of the same tree. The further we got towards the upper grove the more free we were to get right up in the trees. Some of the more popular trees in the lower grove are fenced off to protect the trees from foot traffic.

Silly Sequoia Shot

As we wandered around the grove, I was struck by the amount of deadwood and debris. There were fallen trees everywhere, in various stages of rot, and they were just as phenomenal as the trees still standing.

Fallen Sequoia root system

There was also a lot of information about wildfires in the groves. Apparently fires are essential for the growth and reproduction of Sequoias. Check out this article for more information: http://www.nps.gov/seki/naturescience/fic_firerole.htm

This got me to thinking about the delicate balance of life, and how death and destruction are necessary to keep that balance. Something like a wildfire can create a sense of panic and distress; to see it as an event conducive to reproduction and life is a fresh and welcome change of perspective. The same goes for any jarring and sudden event that occurs in life. We are often so quick to label such events as “disasters” or “tragedies” that we get sucked into the feeling of loss associated with the event, and overlook the positive outcomes. I’m a firm believer that something good can always be extrapolated from a “bad” situation; one just needs to find the right perspective. Lose a job and find your life’s passion; lose a relationship and find yourself; lose a loved one and gain a new appreciation for all the ones you love; lose some vegetation on the forest floor and create an ideal habitat for a giant sequoia that will grow for hundreds of years and touch millions of lives. The beauty of the grove lies as much in the sacrificed life littering the forest floor as it does in the towering trees that are its main attraction. The death in the grove was so in my face that it was impossible to ignore the traces of what once was; what burned up and all but disappeared so that the Earth could breathe new life into the impressive Sequoia standing before me. Here, life and death are in complete harmony.

Hiking to the Upper Grove

Just writing a little something here because I can’t figure out why WordPress won’t let me post back to back pictures.

Standing on the fallen tunnel tree. A tunnel was carved into this tree in 1881 to create a tourist attraction at Mariposa Grove. Weakened by the tunnel, it toppled over during a snowstorm in 1969. This marked the beginning of a greater awareness of the sensitivity of these ecosystems, and was a turning point in the preservation program in U.S. National Parks.

 So, our visit to Mariposa Grove was a humbling and thought-provoking experience. Also, it was just awesome to see something so huge and alive up close, and it was fun to play in the trees. I would highly recommend checking this place out if you’re ever anywhere near California. It was pretty incredible. Check that one off the list.