Fresh Snow Falling

My farewell to Bellingham came Tuesday in the form of an adventure through Whatcom Falls Park, culminating in this jump. Each visit to the park throughout my week and a half in town gave me the same feeling, "Spend more time here." The morning was foggy but dry, and the river meanders through the dense trees here hypnotically. With company, my option of wussing out was ruined.

In the park, a portion of Whatcom Falls visible under the bridge

In Seattle the next morning, I decided to take the long way to Portland through the Cascade Mountains. Exploring 15 miles down a gravel roads leading deeper into a valley allowed me to enjoy an entire campground to myself that night, where I departed from in the morning for intending to hike to a lake. It rained on me at first, then the rain turned to snow, and as I missed the turn off for the lake and walked another mile up the canyon, I found myself in the middle of a beautiful snow storm in this part of the state that's all but abandoned this time of year.

Today was an adventure on the road. With clear skies in Yakima, I chose to take the scenic route along Rainier and St. Helens. I thought the snow in the first pass I went through was bad, appropriately named White Pass. Then I got to the second pass along Mt. St. Helens. Deciding against taking the time to put on chains in the snow and all that, I followed the tire tracks of previous trucks and creeped to the top, at times my speedometer reaching 30 and 40 mph with my car barely crawling. But I made it, slowly up and slowly back down to the welcome sound of rain on the windshield and a road with lines I can see.

Some Pictures So Far

Glacier National Park in Montana. Atop one of the peaks we climbed that day. You can see in the background how jagged and compact the mountains are here, making it possible to summit multiple in a single day's route.

In Portland. I went to watch the Portland Timbers play their USL playoff match. The crowd was intense. Smoke bombs and chanting and standing for the full 90 minutes.

Out of Bend, OR, I drove up the Cascade Lakes Hwy into the Cascade Range. They had just gotten eight inches of snow the previous weekend, and I was granted to fresh powder on the mountain trails and very few people getting in the way of the scenery.

In Newport, OR., where I hit the Oregon Coast for the first time. I ate at the Rogue Brewery Public House and somehow joined in on a locals Bingo game that night, which consisted, among other things, of creating nicknames for each letter-number combo on the board, a lot of telling of both good and bad jokes, an impromptu hip hop performance, and rocking the Winnebago of a guy from North Carolina who bailed early.

A view of Crescent Beach, still on the Oregon Coast. I hiked out to the beach early in the morning and shared a driftwood campfire with a few people from Portland. You can see the smoke rising off the beach.

Snow In Whistler

My car had a few fresh inches of snow on it as I woke up this morning. Well, really I watched it accumulate periodically throughout the night. A night's sleep in the Element is more like a packed together sequence of hard earned naps, but all the same.

So what I've learned from exploring the Whistler job market: Canadians want to hire Canadians, a work visa is expensive and not guaranteed in today's economy, and living here is expensive. That said, I have little to no plans of what to do next, so for now, I think I'll be making my slow way home. I could go anywhere, do anything I want to. A strange feeling really I've never encountered before. Obviously, I want to make the most out of my time, whether it be filled with adventure or culture or people or hopeuflly a mix of everything, but I feel a pretty big responisibity to choose wisely, and unselfishly. I guess we'll see where things go from here, that's always fun.

From North of the Border

I'm sitting in a Vancouver public library. I spent the past week in Bellingham and drove across the border into Canada for the first time last evening. First impression: Vancouver's very clean, but I guess that should be expected with the Olympics coming.

Bellingham was pleasant, and I'll be returning this weekend for Halloween I expect. Last Thursday I borrowed my friend's bike and took the ferry to Orcas Island, which turned out to be larger than I expected. I rode his mountain bike 22 miles to the top of Mt. Constitution, and then enjoyed a single track hiking trail down from the top, killer climb but worth it for the view and the ride. I hopped into a few intramural soccer games Sunday night in the rain on the Western University Campus, it felt great to be out there. Today I'll be heading up the Sea to Sky Highway, from Vancouver up to Whistler, and hoping to possibly land a job in Whistler or Squamish for the winter, we'll see.

People continue to be the reason for my most memorable experiences. After cramping up on the bike on my return trip to the ferry and resting on the side of the road, I was offered a ride from a nice gal in a pick up. Then again once my chain came off for the umpteenth time and this time was bent and was unrepairable, another guy stopped, held up traffic, and gave me a ride all the way back to the ferry, in the dark and far out of his way. Then staying in a town for an extended amount of time allows meeting so many more people. Meeting friends and hanging with friends of friends and so on, hearing their stories and what they've done and where they've been always gives energy to keep going and meet even more. That coupled with the beautiful surroundings of changing leaves and evergreen hills and water everywhere, makes this whole thing pretty fun.

From Seattle

I drove into town on Thursday. Big towns, like here and Portland, take a day or two to feel comfortable in. To figure out the tricks around paying for parking, and understanding the workings of the public transit, and where the library is at and all the other essentials to a city. The first few days are spent exploring around the downtown area meeting people and asking for directions and advice on what to do and where to go, then you begin to spread out a bit and spend more time in the neighborhoods surrounding the city, where the real culture is and the interesting people hang and the places and pubs with character lie. I'm staying at a friend's house North of town near Fremont and Ballard now, and last night broke a ten night stretch of sleeping in my car. It's kinda incredible to notice the comfort that comes with where you sleep, even if it is your passenger seat. You get used to it, and begin to even prefer it, and many times at the end of the day I've really looked forward to returning to the comfort of my home on wheels.

Last night we went to the Combine at St. Mark's Cathedral, an old massive church that sits atop this hill where hundreds of people gather every Sunday night to listen to traditional chants and prayers. The inside of the church was incredible, and the service itself was moving and interesting to witness. But what really got me was the whole atmosphere. We got there about fifteen minutes early and the pews were already filled, and the crowd that consisted mostly of people my age had begun sitting against the walls and against the pillars, on the actual stage, and anywhere else there was open space. This wasn't just a trendy thing to do on a Sunday night either. The mood was very sincere, and people laid down, kneeled, or did whatever they felt necessary to experience this spiritual event in their own way. It got me thinking, what has caused this mass of youth to latch on to this extremely traditional service in a surprisingly authentic search for spirituality? And why was the sincerity within the crowd so refreshing when you would think that should go hand in hand with spirituality?

This morning I'm off to Bellingham, and have my ticket for a Ben Folds show there tonight. Woo hoo.

Greatness, from Port Angeles, WA

So summarizing where I've been and what I've been up to would be dull for me to recite in any length. In short, from my last post forward, I drove from Portland to Bend, from Bend to Salem, Salem to Newport, Newport up the Oregon coast to Tillamook (the home of the cheese), Tillamook to Astoria, and from Astoria across into Washington and up onto the Olympic Peninsula and around the Olympic National Park region, meeting friendly folk and driving through incredible scenery along the way.

But what is more interesting to write on would be an excerpt from my head regarding greatness. I went to the Portland Timbers (soccer team) last last Sunday, had a ball and thought I should quit everything (like what do I have to quit?) and attempt to make it as a competitive professional soccer player. I think the same thing every fall when I go watch a golf tournament in person, maybe if I lived off of my savings and practiced all day every day I could make money playing golf, and it would be worth it. Or the other night watching Harry Potter in a fun little theater in Astoria, it would be awesome to devote my life to acting and be really really good at it, then maybe I could even get a girlfriend like Emma Watson. Or writing after reading Donald Miller's last book. Is this life okay and worthy if I never end up great at anything? So far for twenty-two years I've gone from one hobby to the next, never really striving or succeeding to any extreme degree in any of them. Maybe that's my personality, maybe I just haven't found something to entrance me yet. What I think I'm really looking for is some sort of feeling of being called to something. I think what I desire is to feel overwhelming transcendance in this life. Until then I guess I'm waiting, or searching, or living out regardless.

Okay Sista, WAL-MART

:)

Here's to Wal-Mart...

Thank you Wal-Mart in Walla Walla, Washington. I appreciate you allowing people to spend the night in their cars in your parking lot. I appreciate you allowing me to wash my face, brush my teeth, and change my clothes in your restroom. And thank you Wal-Mart in Vancouver, WA, removed from Portland by two rivers and two bridges. Though your parking lot patrol did make me nervous and I didn't sleep well, I still appreciate your hospitality, and your open restroom for the morning necessities as well. See mom, I am keeping clean. But Wal-Marts, I'm still reluctant to spend a dollar in your stores. That's for people who are too lazy to go more than one place when they run errands, or who would rather save a few bucks here and there instead of supporting local businesses. Ouch. Hopefully the rumors about how you treat your employees isn't all true, or how when you show up in town and all the mom and pop stores go under isn't all your fault. Maybe those tales are exaggerated. I will continue to use your parking lots and restrooms when convenient and necessary, but that doesn't mean I have to like you.

I'm in Portland now, been here since Sunday. Traveling alone leaves only opportunity to make new friends, and the friends have been good, and so has Portland. I'll be staying here longer then expected, so my timeline in exploring the area has been slowed a bit which is nice. Cities and people in them are calling and when I out-stay my welcome here I'll be moving on. Portland is better than I expected. I expected to be disappointed, that the trendiness of this city from a Southern California perspective was overkill, but it isn't. There's great big tree forests surrounding the downtown. People are fresh and creative and unique and plentiful, which is intimidating at first after spending the summer in small towns in Alaska and Montana, but once immersed within the flow here it becomes the norm.

To maybe Corvalis, and maybe Bend, and maybe Astoria, and very likely Seattle, and very likely Bellingham, and who knows where in between and after, off in a few days I'll go.

Montana

So... I arrived in Kalispell, MT last Tuesday afternoon and drove through Glacier National Park to the little town of St. Mary's. In the 5 days I spent there, I worked two shifts in the dish pit, hiked for two days, and relaxed for one of 'em. I arrived at the tail end of season of the Park Cafe. I was instantly surrounded by a group of people who had been exploring the Park, working in the cafe, and hanging out in the small town bars together for most of them what has been the past several summers. I enjoyed a family dinner my first night, then was invited along on a 19.7 mile hike through Gunsight Pass and another pass my next day. The Park Cafe is known for their pies, and I had to get in as much as I could only being their for 5 days. After a dish shift on Thursday night, Friday morning came and I went hiking again with a new group of people. Three peaks and most of the day spent on unkept goat trails along the edge of ridges left me to do nothing but relax on Saturday. The end of the year festivities were great to be around, and everyone was so warm and advetnurous that I'll definitely be returning one summer soon.

We spent the night last night at some Hot Springs, and now I'm in the University of Montana library in Missoula, MT. I'll be here a few days then take off west for Portland. There's no plan once I'm there, only a bunch of ideas and people to meet up with. No pictures yet but they'll come soon.

This Past Week

Every day is postworthy. Therefore, here's a concise summary of the past week, my last week up here in Denali. Today I'll be packing my bags, then making the drive up to Fairbanks tomorrow morning, and flying to Kalispell, Montana Tuesday morning where the next adventure awaits.


After seeing my first grizzly on our trails in two summers, I finished up with the tour and went to watch it some more, where my a few of the younger locals I work with were gearing up to take it down. I had to go set up for another tour, but two minutes into the ride our first unscheduled stop was the grizzly lying on the side of the road.



This is from my last trip up the extended trail on Wednesday morning. Warm people and warm colors have filled this week that has been full of lasts, at least for now.



I took a free two hour shuttle ride into the park on Wednesday also. It's Moose rutting season, and we watched this bull pursue to young cows. The bus was rooting him on, but after getting up on his hinds and going for it, she ran out from under him, she was having none of it with a full audience on the road.



Thursday I got to go on a helicopter ride around the park. First time in a helicopter. It's strange how able we are now to see wilderness from such extreme and unnatural angles. I think there's an art to still enjoying it the old-fashioned way, on foot and with a pack on the back, but it takes a little more patient effort.

A little rough draft of sorts for the next few months: Spend a week in Glacier National Park doing dishes in exchange for a bed and meals, driving west to Portland through Mizzoula, Jackson Hole, Yellowstone, and whatever else is on the way. Spend time there, then up to Bellingham, WA and the Seattle area, then see if I can land a job somewhere in the Northwest for a few months. We'll see how it goes.

Sensory Overload

It was a Saturday, now almost two weeks ago, when I woke up early for no reason, looked out my window, and saw that the storm had finally passed, leaving low lying clouds in the valley and blue skies up above. I didn't have work for hours, and no plans of anything that morning, but couldn't stay in bed any longer and feel okay about it. I got up, with not a clue of what to do, and texted my friend over breakfast.

Me: I hate/love the hopelss/anxious feeling of an overwhelmingly beautiful day and the inability to do anything worthwhile enough to capture it.

Friend: I know! It holds so much potential and no matter what you do you're not taking full advantage of it or doing it justice as it slips through your fingers.

Me: Yeah I hate it.

Friend: But you love it too. Isn't that part of what makes it so beautiful - that it's fleeting? Thank God for time or we might not appreciate anything.

I worked outside for a few hours then spent the full evening giving tours. I took my camera along and tried to capture at least a portion of what surrounded me.

The view of the Healy Range from Dry Creek, one of the stops on our Otto Lake Tour

The Healy Valley from atop an overlook on our tour, Autumn in August


That would be Otto Lake in the bottom right, and those would be pretty clouds everywhere else.


Enjoying the sunset on the final tour of the day from atop another one of our overlooks

That it's fleeting is what amplifies the feelings of beauty and the need to seize it. The bright fall colors that threaten to leave just as quick as they came. The looming end to the season that scatters friends and relationships to different parts of the world. The final few days of a well paying job and a warm bed and the comfort that comes after residing in a place for a few months. Denali is sure doing a good job at talking me into coming back next summer. We'll see. By the way, everyone's invited.

Our Attempt at the Bus

Here are a few photos from an overnight attempt at making it to the bus that Chris McCandless lived in as documented in the book and movie Into the Wild. It's 19 miles from the end of the maintained road, and we were hoping to go there and back in two days, spending the night at the bus in between.


We didn't actually start hiking til about 1:30, which pretty much sealed our fate right there, but we set out anyway hoping to make up time on the trail and still hoping to make it all the way. The trail crosses two big rivers, the first and smaller one being the Savage River, which the four of us crossed one closely behind the other. Next is the Teklanika River, the big one. We crossed the first and usually more difficult strand fine, but once on the island we were unable to find a safe place to cross the rest of the river. It was already about 8 o'clock by this time, and with another ten miles to go after the river until the bus, we didn't press the issue. We turned back, and along with an Irish couple we were now hiking with, found a campsite a mile down the trail from the river.



Even though we didn't achieve what we set out to do, the hike to and from the Tek was still beautiful, especially with all of the fall colors. With the shortened trip, we had time to sleep in and relax around camp before hiking out to the car the next day. We finally made it out around 7 that night, drove straight to a local restaurant where we all scarfed down our food, and then snuck into the local resort spas overlooking the Nenana River. iitting there, we watched the full moon rise through the trees and over a mountain toward the south as the sun was setting toward the north. There's always next year, maybe.

The first strand of the Teklanika River, you can see the rope/string left there
by hikers to help everyone get across

I read about sixty pages of my book at the campsite as everyone else slept in. I also snapped this self portrait. The beard is no more, now people tend to call me wolverine.

A Few Adventures in Not Having a Car

The destination was Fairbanks, 120 miles away from Healy, and I had the day off and some errands to run. I grabbed the old guitar I was hoping to fix up and an empty backpack and left the house around 10 a.m. After two rides, the longer of which with a package delivery guy, I got dropped off in the city around 1:30 p.m. on the opposite side of town from where I needed to go. I thought, I could try to hitch a ride, or without a car, I can be alright with hiking a few miles when necessary and not bother anyone else. Grass roots guitar was my first stop where I picked up a new nut and a package of light strings. Next was dinner at a local bakery restaurant, followed by a visit to Home Depot to shop for materials for my boat. Finally, I went to the Safeway and filled up my backpack full of non-perishables and went looking for a good spot to try to hitch back. Where I hoped to hitch from was no good, so I decided to walk back to where I got dropped off. After getting a little lost and doing some backtracking, I made it back to where I started, waited a bit then caught a ride to the next small town, then another one all the way back to Healy, finally getting home about 12:30 a.m. Total hitching distance, about 240 miles. Total walking distance around Fairbanks, about 15 miles. Check out my course.


View Larger Map

Last week I needed to get back to the house for a three o'clock tour after spending the morning down in the canyon. The first van that passed picked me up. It was a friend who worked at the bar who was going on a hike before work, and could only take me about halfway. I got out with her at the trail head and continued down the highway, thinking it wouldn't be a problem to catch a ride from there. Was I ever wrong. No one would pick me up, and realizing I was now going to be late, I started jogging along the side of the road with my two bags of expired potato chips I just got for free from the local store. Six miles later I arrived at the house barely on time just to find out my coworker was going to take the tour instead of me. A frustrating lack of communication on my part.

These two stories are accompanied by the daily routine of figuring out shuttle times, and free bus trips, and using anything lying around the house like bikes and scooters to get where I want to go. Cars are definitely convenient, but necessary? No. Regardless of location, I think if you begin a new lifestyle without a car, you'd be able to make adjustments and do alright without one. If you've become accustomed to having one for so long then I think it'd be mighty difficult to give it up and try to go without one. I know it'd be extremely challenging to do in Southern California, I just don't like hearing people say it'd be impossible.

Dragonfly Creek

I joined a friend on a little hike down Dragonfly Creek the other evening. The weather was just about perfect, and the low sun filled the canyon with such warm light. We explored around a few waterfalls, past a fun little beehive, and down to the fast flowing Nenana River. Hopping along the rocks and making our own trail when the bank became to steep, we hiked along the river until we were underneath Windy Bridge, sat ourselves down on a rock, enjoyed a beer each, and waved to rafters as they passed. It was an impromptu little trip and was ever so satisfying.





Now here's just a random thought for the day, with not the slightest correlation to Dragonfly Creek, that I would love someone to explain to me. It's a simple concept that I just can't seem to grasp. It's nothing new. Statistics are different all over the internet depending on who did what study and when it was conducted, but generally speaking the U.S. contains five percent of the world's population and consumes about thirty percent of the world's resources (energy, water, food, forests, etc.). I think we've all heard these statistics before and are fully aware of them, but why do we conveniently ignore them without feeling any motivation to alter our lifestyles. Where do we get off continually consuming more then our fair share just because everyone else around us is doing it? That's just speaking about people in general. Now take the religious person who claims to live selflessly and beyond materialism, and they should be called to live to an even greater extreme when it comes to contrasting consumerism, right? Yet often times referring to their lives as "blessed" allows them to live extravagantly. Now I'm obviously typing this on a computer meaning I'm not living the simplest life I can, but I feel like there should be such a greater urgency and heated discussion with regards to why we feel entitled to have whatever we can get our hands on. If someone could explain to me the numbness and complacency towards these facts I would be ever grateful.

Sunshine.

Ah. After a week straight of cloudy days, cold temperatures, and tours in the rain, I walked outside this morning after a full sleep and was surprised by overwhelming sunshine and big white happy clouds. Nothing seemed just except to sit at a picnic table and do nothing but take it in. Now to seize it more, I'm off to the lake and my boat to catch up on reading, relax, and practice a little guitar in the open air. The song that kept coming to mind this morning and a good representation of the mood I'm in would be John Denver's Sunshine on my Shoulder. Listen to it and understand. Hope today is good to you.

I Have a Boat

Last year there was this old metal tin, painted red boat sitting in the water down at the lake shore. Filled with water and fall leaves, I wished I had more time and the okay to try to fix it up and take it out on the lake. This year, I had both. And now I have a boat to explore all of the inlets and shorelines of this here Otto Lake. It's maiden voyage consisted of me standing in the back with a long piece of driftwood, pushing off the shallow lake bottom as far out as I could go seeing if it could hold off water. Then my boss and I got a beautifully silent trolly motor for it and a spare paddle. It's been my companion in enjoying midnight sunsets and exploring beaver ponds in far corners and discovering private sections of the lake and choosing to paddle back in the dark instead of using the motor. I think tonight calls for another adventure in it.

Last September

This summer, the first trip with the new (used) motor

Besides that I've fixed up an old guitar that was living in the garage when I got here. I'm slowly learning chords and practicing them on slower Iron and Wine songs. People are intriguing me more and more each day. Future plans shift from one hour to the next. I took a family from Ecuador on a tour yesterday, and after getting over myself, I attempted broken conversations in Spanish with the grandpa and two young boys. I decided I want to go to South America as soon as I can. Then last night a friend said she was looking for a travel buddy to volunteer at an orphanage in Africa for a few months next spring, and as of now nothing seems like a better thing to spend the money I've been making up here on. Friends are going to Vietnam to teach English for a year, or spending 6 months performing on a cruise ship between New Zealand and Australia. Meeting people brings inspirations and opportunities. Hooray for that.

More Lonesome A Capella

Last week kicked my butt. I ended up working about 50 hours, 20 of those on Saturday and Sunday with a middle of the night visit to the Anderson Music Festival between them. My reward come Sunday night was getting Monday off, but I couldn't just let a day off pass by without going and and doing something. I decided to climb Mt. Healy.



I got dropped off at the trail head around nine o'clock and scrambled up to the craggy summit just before noon. It was a beautiful day. I took a break along a grassy ridge to watch some Dall Sheep climb on a distant cliff, then continued up the mountain a bit more to find one on my trail. It stared at me blankly as I said hello and tried to persuade it nicely off the trail. Fortunately it listened and meandered down the hill away from me as I snapped this photo.



I wanted to find an alternate root down just to keep things interesting, so I went off the backside of Healy in search of a trail I'd heard connects to the park highway. There was no such trail. Instead, I found my way into a gorge I knew was feeding at least in the right direction.

The canyon flatted out and turned into a gentle creek bed, varying from just a few to fifteen feet wide and lined with heavy brush. The perfect environment for grizzlies and the worst place to run into them. There were bear prints and bear scat everywhere, and I was convinced I was a gonner. I sang the whole way down again, getting tired of songs I knew and creating originals. It was four o'clock by the time I finally saw telephone poles and electric wire in the distance, accompanied with the sound of busses on the park road. What comfort they brought. The solitude and serenity of marching through the flowing creek was too muffled by the paranoia of what was around the next bend. I won't be hiking alone again for a good while.

At the top, before the trek down

Yesterday morning I took out a couple from San Diego along with an office girl we just hired on our extended tour. It didn't feel like work. Then last night a few of us met up with that couple to enjoy all you can eat Salmon, ribs, mashed potatoes, and corn at a dinner theatre nearby on the house, with of course a hefty tip expected. Here's a look at a section of our extended trail, not a bad office to show up at every day huh?

What a Day Was Yesterday

Technically, it started with a victory in Chinese Checkers, a midnight snack run, and an unnerving bike ride home through a windy and almost dark night. Then after the quarter to six alarm, a tired shower, making sandwiches and packing snacks enough for two, a phone call to a flaky friend to not surprisingly discover I'll be on my own for the day, I was off on my adventure into the park on the same bike as the night before, down Otto Lake Road towards the highway. At the highway I ditched the bike and began walking in the direction in which the entrance of the park laid thirteen miles down the road, hoping for generosity from the limited number of passing cars. Five bucks later I arrived at the Wilderness Access Center, and reserved my seat on a bus going 90 miles into the park to Kantishna, twelve hours round trip and as far as they let people go.





Our bus was friendly. In the first ten minutes we sighted a grizzly just off of the highway. Throughout the day we saw several more grizzlies, mamas and their cubs and some lone riders, plenty of caribou though none too close up, two beautifully colored red foxes, and one moose with a giant rack. Blueberries grow wild here, and I took time by Wonder Lake to bag some. They're great in oatmeal. There were a couple of backpackers on the bus I talked with and of course became envious of their multi-day adventure they were in store for. I offered to move their car from the day parking to the overnight lot, and they trusted me enough to take me up on it. After handing over their keys, exchanging contact info on old receipts and torn book pages, we said we'd try to meet up at the music festival this weekend as they set off away from the highway and up a mountain.

Mt. McKinley, also goes by Denali, meaning "The Great One"

It was growing late as the bus was on the return trip home, and I wanted to scrape a little bit more out of the day and go explore somewhere. I got dropped off in the general vicinity of Cathedral Mountain, and had roughly two hours to make it back to the highway to catch the last shuttle out of the park. Singing and talking loudly to myself the whole time to notify any nearby animals in hiding that I'm coming, I made my way across a creek, up a steep valley then around a crest and up another vertical stretch to what I thought was the peak. From the top another peak on the other side of a deep canyon was visible, much higher and with a visible trail circling around along ridges and slanted scree slopes to the base of a crazy steep scramble to the top. I had fifteen minutes before I had to turn around and still be comfortable on time. I went for it. Running where I could, being careful where I needed to be. After a few falls and a bloody couple of fingers, I made it to the top twenty minutes later. A quick rest in gusting winds and it was time to turn around, sliding down the rocky slopes, running around the ridges and taking shortcuts I was now aware of. Then what sounded like the shriek of an eagle caught my attention, and I saw two wolverines skirting around on a rock quarry. Wolverines are some of the rarest animals seen in the park, and known to be pretty ferocious, especially for their size. I hesitated for a second, now reminded I was alone out here in this wild place, and took the long way around, singing louder then ever in my anxious hurry back to the road. I made it back into the valley I came up through, except now as I rounded a bend in the mountain in front of me was an enormous mama grizzly and her two cubs, about a hundred yards away and blocking my way back to the road. Encountering a grizzly when hiking is never a good situation, add to it your alone and she's got two cubs with her and you didn't see them until you're a little too close for comfort and its worse. Again I hesitated, then bent low and slowly backed away hoping they hadn't yet noticed me. I backtracked up the valley a bit, climbed over a ridge now separating me from the bears, and, singing and yelling still louder, made my way down to and across the creek and back up to the road. It wasn't long before the next bus came. I let the driver know to look for the grizzlies, and we sat on the side of the highway looking down into the valley I had just come out of. As I listened to a bus full of tourists like myself 'ooohing' and 'ahhing' at the size and beauty of the animals, I sat back and relished in this moment, in this safe seat in a safe bus a safe distance away, in my experience of terrifying adventure that in hindsight is the always best kind.

From the actual top of Cathedral Mountain, just before the real adventure began

I enjoyed meeting more great people on that bus, sharing my stories and hearing what they're up to around here. I found the car I was responsible for and moved it to the appropriate location, accepted a ride to a bar from the grandparents and granddaughter I sat next to for the last few hours of the ride, relaxed with friends over a drink, went and had a hearty half-off burger with a couple of guys I work with, and then back to the house where I gratefully laid down and passed out, exhausted from a day that could not have gone any better.

Travel is good?

My good sister filled the title page of a book she gave to me with this quote by Mark Twain...

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."

I got into a conversation with a friend about whether it's okay to be intolerant towards people's willingness to stay put. I don't know if it has to to with having the mountains to the north, a border south, an ocean west and desert to the east, but from the outside, I notice Southern California is a difficult place to get out of for most. I would say that gaining multiple perspectives on something is the only way to see something for what it truly is, whether its the world, different cultures, humanity as a whole, or the place you grew up or what you believe in. I'm fully aware this is a mighty convenient perspective to have given my current situation.

And Now We Have Pictures

The setting moon over the Alaska Range flying into Fairbanks. There's something about traveling alone, spending time in airports and meeting other people doing the same thing as you that is a type of rush. It's the foreshadowing of adventure. That rainbow glare is just the result of my laziness in not wanting to take off the polarizer, oh well, it turned out cool.

This is what I had to adjust to. My first day in Healy, I spent all of it sitting around, reading, not doing much at all, which was an extreme contrast to the previous couple weeks in California. Transitions are made easy when you have something like this to look at, this is the view of Otto Lake from a small beach a short walk from the house. My favorite place to be when the bugs are tolerable.

All last week I was looking forward to Saturday and my first day off since I got here. When I switched shifts with someone and it got pushed back a day I didn't care and went hiking anyway. This is the view from the top of the first peak you summit on the trail to Sugarloaf. It's about the half way point, I ate a small lunch, took a little nap, and turned around here. In the very near future I'll be making it all the way to Sugarloaf.

Ah, and then there's my day off. Going on a hike the previous day meant I felt no obligation to do anything but lounge. It consisted of huddling in the shade of some trees down by the lake, trying to avoid the too-warm sun. A seventy-five page sprint to finish a book I was previously unimpressed with. A phone call from my childhood babysitter letting me know we just happen to be working in the same small town in Alaska this summer (who I finally did rendezvous with last night, we had a great time hanging out and letting everyone know just how far we go back). Bright purples wildflowers surrounding me in the brush. For hours hearing nothing but the sound of swarming bees, horseflies, and mosquitos, and young kids playing somewhere in the distance. The book ended on the note that the overdone pursuit of physical beauty and social acceptance will mutilate you. Thankfully, as I was easily reminded this day, beauty runs fairly deep here.

This is what I do...

If you look close enough, you might just see me in there in a shot or two. I've been working since I got here and tomorrow get my first day off. Just about to head out with friends for a 'free' (we get comped for things so we can then go ahead and advertise them to our customers, except then we're expected to leave a better than average tip making it still barely worth it for this frugal kid) all you can eat salmon and ribs dinner theater, and then I'm thinking I'll try and hitch a ride to a trail head in the morning and climb Mt. Healy, a nearby peak I've been giving tours under. There's bush fires north of us so the visibility hasn't been great the last week or so, but we've been getting some afternoon thunderstorms here and there and it's cleared up a bit the last few days. I've been hoping for a perfect partly cloudy day tomorrow all week, with some giant white clouds that cast shadows across the land and air quality that allows me to see for miles and miles from atop the mountain. We'll see what we get.

From Alaska

It's Saturday about midday, meaning I've had enough time now to settle in to the new routine of things. My flight out here went fine, meeting a few friendly and interesting people on the flights. I sat on the Seattle runway and watched the sunset, then as we took off it rose just a little bit back into the sky and for the next three and a half hours direct to Fairbanks it didn't move a bit. There was the beautiful dusk glow out my window the entire flight as we flew over incredible landscape, the last of which was the Alaska Range and Mt. McKinley. After collecting my baggage and walking outside, I was just in time to see the sun again go behind some hills just after midnight.

I ran some errands around Fairbanks and then drove a couple hours to the small coal mining town of Healy. There was definitely a necessary lifestyle adjustment when I arrived here. There's more time to do nothing, and to read and to write and to cook meals. It's much simpler. My second day at the house was my first day of work. I spent some time in the garage learning about the machines, something I didn't do at all last year. Then I tagged along in the rear of our Stampede Trail tour. Yesterday I was able to lead a few of our Otto Lake tours, and am now into the flow of things. The land is as beautiful as it was last year, and still surprises and amazes me constantly. I'm grateful to be here.

Graduation Day!

Woohoo, what a good day yesterday was. Days centered around ourselves are always fun.

Thank you Bethie for the signs...

...and the cake

First and second attempts were backwards, there was no S-I-V-A-R-T at the graduation, after that they were right on

You want an insight into how cool us Math majors are? Well we were those kids who wrote numbers on the tops of our caps and sat in a precise order... 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, ... I think we got all the way to 2584. Cool huh?

Da Pops

The Story of Stuff

If you have twenty minutes, spend it watching this video. It's good. If you don't have twenty minutes, my condolences for your too-busy life.

THE STORY OF STUFF

with Annie Leonard

Attempting to Define an "Open Mind"

These thoughts stem from this post and it's reactions, which wasn't intended to be about whether religions oppose each other or not, it was about whether it is okay or not to have an open mind towards them.

I know that people say it's okay to have an open mind towards other religions and when reading other religious canons, but I don't believe most of them mean it. (This idea is new to me lately, that people are capable of saying things and thinking they mean them when they don't, but anyway...) It's politically correct, or religiously correct, to believe it good to have an open mind towards things other people hold to be true and dear to them, but I think that's more because the positive connotation we associate with having an "open mind" and less about what it really means, or I guess I have to say 'what it really means to me'.

I think all too often people, like me, venture into other religious ideas and texts and willingly engage in conversations with those we think differently from only after our mind is already made up, tipping our toes in the foreign water out of curiosity, out of a desire to be deemed as less ignorant. I don't think that's being open minded.

I think that when we first believe that the Bible is exclusively divine, we then sacrifice the ability to read other texts with an open mind. Listening to ideas from other religions and agreeing or disagreeing with them based on whether they agree with the Bible or not is not having an open mind.

To approach something with an open mind, we have to be willing to earnestly give every idea a fighting chance, whether it agrees with what we already believe or not. In order to approach things with an open mind our ideals must be fluid, with plenty of room for those thoughts not yet included, and the openness to discard of the thoughts already present for better ones, or different ones, or to discard just for discarding's sake, without feeling the need to replace them with new.

That said, I think most people don't have an open mind towards things, and that's alright with me.

Mountains

From Robert Pirsig-

Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you're no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn't just a means to an end but a unique event in itself. This leaf has jagged edges. This rock looks loose. From this place the snow is less visible, though even closer. These are things you should notice anyway. To live only for some future goal is shallow. It's the sides of the mountain which sustain life, not the top. Here's where things grow.

Along the trail of the Routeburn Track last February