Snow and mountains

Day before yesterday it started snowing. Slow at first, then fast and thick - big, fluffy flakes and lots of 'em so it was difficult to see. I woke up yesterday to piles and piles of snow on everything. And it was still snowing. So i went to work (i got a temporary job at a christmas tree lot a couple of blocks away) and spent the morning shoveling and pushing snow. It was fun, because shoveling is so ridiculous (it all melted today anyway). Shoveling is satisfying, partially because its necessary only at specific moments. And it wasn't that cold, because i was moving all the time. But now the cold has set in, and today it was like the snow gave way to the cold. It started colding?

The cold is SO cold, its breathtaking. Literally. Its maddening, like a mosquito incessantly buzzing in your ear. I think to myself, how can this be, and my bones start shaking. I can't BE in this. I can't be...calm, because i'm hyperventilating trying not to freeze. Draw a breath in, and cold sears the inside of your nose and creeps into your lungs. I cough. Breathing out produces puffs of smoke, visible vapor. But somehow, we manage through it.

But with the cold came clear skies, and sky opened up to show off the gorgeous mountains. When i first got back to Colorado, i was awe-struck with the mountains. I looked up, and even though i've seen a similar view so many times before, i was amazed by their beauty. Now, with snow on, the mountains take on this ethereal quality, and broadcast a special, majestic presence that commands respect. The sun is going down, and the sky is lit bright fading blue while the mountains loom in front of the light, dressed in snow.

There is no need to second-guess myself, since i was never sure of what i was doing in the first place. All there is to do is continue on, guess anew at each fork in the road. Just show up when the band starts playing, when the mountains switch on their backlight in snowy glory. Its a sure thing.

The revolution will be televised, at 1 pm Eastern

So this is what it looks like?

We've just heard that Donald Rumsfeld has resigned/been asked to leave/is out of office. Dubya announced the news at a press conference this afternoon - but he must have known or decided last night because he scheduled the press conference last night (after it was assured that the Dems would take the House), which is unlike him since he usually calls them with only a few hours notice. This is a good day for Americans, for progressives. We have made a difference! We all ask ourselves, as we learn about atrocities in Iraq, inconsistencies and bullying in American foreign policy - we all ask "what can we do? this is terrible!". Well, folks - THIS is what you can do! We brought Rumsfeld down, because in my opinion, the leadership in the House would have demanded nothing less. Bush wanted to spare the carnage and further embarrassment to the Republican party, so cut the contract.

So this doesnt mean that its over, but rather that our work has just begun to take hold and now our concerns and efforts might actually be taken seriously by someone in power. Its a good day. Lets take a moment to recognize Dan Savage: Dan, we will never know how much difference you made in terms of votes, but thank you for helping to ensure that Santorum won't be on the Senate floor for the next six years! And also, whoever was working on the McNerney campaign: i probably haven't met you yet, but WOW - great job, and THANKS!

Good job people. There is tangible hope.

More on same sex unions

Looking into it further, the bans on same sex unions across the country is really outrageous. This is the wrong message. So we have good news about more Democrats and liberal leaders elected to office, but bad news about state definitions of marriage. We also have good news about environmental issues and minimum wage (at least seven states passed measures to raise minimum wage), so the hope is that this new leadership can afford committed couples a method to recognize their union. We need to honor healthy families, and afford same sex couples the same benefits (health, taxes, etc) heterosexual couples enjoy. This IS possible and it must change, will change soon.

Election Day

I had about a week to catch up with friends and family, when i realized it was election time and i started working as a canvasser to get out the vote. Three days of non-stop, walking, talking, hanging literature, revisiting districts, coordinating. This culminates in Tuesday, 7 November: Election Day.

Its early in the morning, long after polls are closed. But the races are not decided. We (Democrats - who did you think?!) are now in control of the House of Representatives. This is a huge step for us, since the House controls which bills are brought to the floor for consideration, among other things. Nancy Pelosi is then the first female Speaker of the House. We contributed to this in Colorado, with the installation of Ed Perlmutter (guess who i voted for!!) as the secure incumbent vacated his spot to run (unsuccessfully) for governor. So we've won a national House seat, we've won Governor, and we've got a Dem majority in the House and Senate in Colorado. Things are going well - in fact, its a revolution. This is the election we should have had - we were all expecting - in 2004, but the installation of a Dem governor is exceptional for our state. We are landing on the map as a place with a progressive base, for my county, (go, Jeffco!) for my state, and for the nation. Thank goodness, and even with all the victories - let it be known that even though Colorado defeated a measure to legalize same sex unions, this issue has only just begun and we will win basic human rights for all couples.

More from the pit, soon.

Le Tour, part 4 Zagreb - Johanneshof

I left Zagreb around 10 Oct, and took the overnight train to Geneva. A little less sleeping was had than when i went to Zagreb, becuase of all the passport control crossing borders (and this happened in the middle of the night).

Once in Geneve, i met up with Abi, and made myself a nuisance at her family home there. Her family was amazing and welcoming, and they live in this gorgeous location outside Geneva in France. I laid low for a couple of days, having caught a bug in Zagreb and made worse by travelling. So i waited out the chills and the aches, and spent some quality time with satellite cable tv.

I made my way to the south of Germany, taking the train from Basel, Switzerland. I reached Johanneshof (in the black forest - beautiful!) by the evening of the 12th. Once at Johanneshof, i settled again and tried to kick the cold that refused to go away. I spent the next week sitting, cooking and cleaning with some old friends and lots of new friends at the Zen center there for our weeklong traditional retreat. It was wonderful, and intense, and surreal since i was sick. But it was an amazing experience and i hope to return to this special place in the German countryside someday soon.

Le Tour, part 3 - Hvartska

Croatia. This is an incredible place. Mountains, rivers, lakes, ocean. Beautiful. Good food. Good coffee. Mild autumn weather.

Lets start with Zagreb. This is a city of art, food and street cafes. The public transit is in the form of trams, many of them straight out of the 60s, at a time when socialism was at a crescendo. Next to the main square, which is blanketed with modern ad banners for mobile phones, sunglasses and Coca Cola, there is the market. It must be the way that people used to do things, before supermarkets came to be the norm. Rows and rows of fresh fruit and veg crowd table tops. Choosing a table to buy from is difficult. When i finally stop at one, i point to the items i'd like, and the hip young woman, the farmer in overalls, the wizened wrinkled face woman - all equally likely to be the person behind the table - take the items and weigh them on a scale with free weights that look like little milk vessels. My produce is sinfully cheap, and the dirt still clings to it, seemingly picked that day. The experience is overwhelming, not only because i know most of the people are calling out to me trying to get me to buy their goods, but just because of the sheer volume and variety. I see eggplant, tomatoes, white potatoes, baking potatoes, yams, green lettuce, leeks, broad beans, apples, oranges, nectarines, pears, white onions, garlic, red onions, zucchini, large green squash, string beans, carrots, rocket, parsely, more more more....my head swims with the combinations of color and potential dishes to be made. Downstairs, inside the first thing you smell, before you see it are the tubs of sauerkraut. Its there ready to buy in whatever quantity you could imagine. Next there are butchers and bakeries, and then come the cheese counters. The cheese area is set off from the main bit of the inside market (which looks like a little shopping mall with bakeries and meat counters). The cheese area is a series of marble topped counters, some with a small refrigerated case. There is soft cheese, that you buy and mix with yogurt or cream or somesuch, and it becomes a sort of spreadable cottage cheese. There are massive wheels of farmers cheese, smoked cheese, mild, strong, salty, sweet, fresh butter, eggs. These are all tended to by women, who all seem to have been trucked in from a farm somewhere in the 1940s, with scarves and dark sun-kissed skin, with wrinkles and callouses from weather and hard work. They wear practical clothes, bottoned shirts and aprons. They seem patient but not overly joyous about serving me, and we stumble through some communication about "half a cheese wheel and how much might that cost?". I imagine the woman who is probably 60 but is small and has furrows in her cheeks making her appear to be 100, is thinking that there is not much more that life could bring along to her cheese counter that would surprise her.

We speak different languages - so different that it is virtually impossible to reason through the meaning of words written, much less spoken. I can order one coffee with milk (eiden kava i smljekom) and i can greet you with a "hey! how are you! whats new?" kind of a greeting, but thats about it. I can pronounce anything put in front of me, but i dont retain the words for special strudels made with salty cheese and filo dough or the name for the old cheese ladies at the market. I feel slightly guilty for not understanding the language, exacerbated by the guy at the shmenker internet cafe who, when i ask about how to pay, retorts angrily "WE DONT SPEAK ENGLISH HERE!". However, my guilty feeling is mostly my own construct, since most everyone does speak some english, and a good lot of those speak it really well. But its still a matter of enforcing the need for english to me the lingua franca - i feel guilty that mine is the language most expected of other peoples, and it is sort of a priveledged guilt then since i dont speak any other languages fluently. (To do list: bone up on my other languages i've started on).

Then there is the coast. Sparkling waters. Limestone cliffs and rock outcrops. Roman ruins, italian feeling, wine and olives everywhere. Yet its still distinctly ADRIATIC - and it is some elusive difference between here and the Mediterranean. Connected, but different and proud of it. Could it be the remnants of socialism, the monuments to Tito and rulers past? Could it be the crazy names of things that Jenna and i repeat to each other, testing our Croatian pronunciation ("Trsat. TUR-sat. TRY-st? TR-sat!")? Maybe its just the knowledge that we are in Croatia, this is where Sandra is from and her family and her friends and her identity is rooted here, was built here. Because no matter how much i read about the place, and hear about the war or the history, there are still these elusive bits that i think will always be there for an outsider. For now, it is enough to pay attention to what i notice, to try to look at the place with a child's mind: see what i can see, count how many trains pass this spot, see how many coffees i can have in one day, drink with the locals. Zhh (the local "cheers")!

Le Tour, part 2b - Pyrenees Spain

The story left off at the crazy hut at the pass, just below the looming Breche de Roland.

After a rest-afternoon, our fill of dinner (the food not as excellent as at Oulettes de Gaube, but hot and plenty nonetheless) and a course of hut-debauchery, we slept and woke for an early-ish start at 8. We were not overeager to get started, since when we woke up we peeked outside and discovered the cirque was enshrouded in clouds. We could just see the pass, with clouds hanging in the tops of the ridges. We contemplated waiting an hour or two hoping the coulds might burn off, but we decided to give it a go anyway. This turned out to be the RIGHT decision, since later in the afternoon, after we had crossed and were well away, the snow started to fall on the pass (we learned later).

We embarked on a long trudge up to the pass, which wasnt as terribly awful as it looked from down below. One step at a time, go at your own pace. We weren't in a rush, having learned that clouds dont necessarily mean thunder in the Pyrenees. The glacier crossing was little more than a few steps on gravel covered snow, although the gaping holes forming tunnels and pools in the ice were not in the least bit encouraging for counting on the stability of the ice, or for being reassured that there we wouldnt break through the top into some crevasse below. Fortunately, we made it across and did some scrambling which could have been worse but for the bomber handholds and dry rock. When we got to the top, the toothy gap that marks the border between France and Spain, the clouds swirled around us and while we could see the hut looking back the direction which we had come, the clouds were so thick looking north that we could barely see the trail. The mist would clear off in an ethereal dance, and we caught glimpses of a beautiful valley yawning out below us.

We had been warned about the two possible routes - the 'mountaineering route' and the normal-people route. The three of us agreed we were not insane, did not fancy the idea of climbing down pins put there who-knows-how-long-ago, and wanted to get to our destination that day instead of bivouacing in the backcountry, so we steered right for the normal-peoples route. Now we couldnt see much of anything. We had been told to 'just follow the cairns' which is a much easier thing to do when you can actually SEE the next cairn ahead of you (recall, Martha, hiking in Utah in the dark trying to find the next cairn on slickrock). Anyway, the going was s.l.o.w. because we couldn't see anything. Then the mist cleared for a minute and we made it to a clear trail that was still in the valley we were supposed to be in. We had made it down the talus slope and were walking on real ground, which seemed much better than picking our way through rocks. None of this situation was made better by the fact that the unbelievably beautiful view we had been told of was invisible, hidden in the clouds.

We picked our way downslope, and came to a crossroads. We got out the compass, and chose the most likely, from the compass and map, trail leading to our next destination. Our advisors had told us 'keep the big peak, circles on it, you cant miss it, on your right'. They were wrong - we COULD miss it, and did, since we never even got a glimpse of the landmark. So we did our next best with map and compass, but at that first junction we took the wrong path, had a nice little detour over razor sharp limestone jagged rocks (pretty cool rocks, actually) and spent an extra hour on that side trip. It was also around this point when, as it had just been foggy and humid before, it started to rain proper. We pulled on our waterproofs and wrapped the map in a plastic bag and continued on, now on the right trail, but still slow going since we werent sure and it was necessary to check the map and compass often. I was not encouraged at all by the warning our book had given about the maps made by Editorial Alpina, "these maps, while generally very good, do have some errors, and in some cases have had serious errors". We had tried for the other (better) maps, but these were the only ones the map store in Barcelona had that covered our entire route, and that had the refuges marked on them. In the end, the maps turned out to be really good and reliable, but it wasn't a feel-good situation in the wet-fog-losing-your-way entry into Spain.

Eventually we found the correct path, reaffirmed by the presence of other people coming from the other direction. One feature of this part of the day was climbing up a limestone arm flank of the mountain we were traversing, to meet the trail. As we climbed and hauled, the dropoffs on each side of the flank deepened, and my heart somehow found its way into my throat, stomach turning. My fear of heights prevented what was otherwise a supposedly fun bit, and i focused on keeping moving, and looking at the spot right in front of me which did, amazingly, prevent the hyperventilation which threatened to begin with every step. Past the dike of death, i felt like i could skip, except then the rain got stronger and so instead we did something more like upbeat trudging. We had at least FOUND the trail, although we had several more extended conversations and map-compass study sessions.

We walked through some beautiful terrain for the remainder of the afternoon, lush alpine meadows and jet black rock walls spiked with white marble or quartz like streaks. Eventually, we came to our next destination - Refugio Goritz (say goreeths). Since it had been raining all day, and some the day before, the river we had to cross right before the hut was like a raging torrent, so we walked a piece downstream, found a moderate bit right before the river falls off a cliff, and slogged through. No matter, we could dry out in our new home-for-the-night which was dry and warm and felt like the Ritz Carlton.

Inside the hut, there were plenty of other bedraggled, wet travelers who were passing time waiting for the weather to clear, or were delivered that day, like us, wet, muddy and somewhat dazed that there was a warm dry place. As you walk in the front door of the hut, you are greeted by a gang of smokers, huddled under the eave of the porch, so their cigarettes dont get wet. It turns out, its sort of a requirement that if you are Spanish, you smoke (i asked Nuria, our Spanish friend who doesnt smoke, later on how she could have escaped this cultural mandate and she admitted it was difficult and that she was always sort of seen as strange). Anyway, we booked ourselves a bed and a place at dinner (all in Castellano, amigos) and then i promptly crawled into my sleeping bag and had myself a long thorough nap. Over dinner we pondered our options as the rain seemed set in, and there was snow gathering at the pass we'd come over earlier that day. We could either wait it out another day, or 'make a run for it' (uh-oh, said Abi, maybe we could call it something else) and descend into Ordesa Canyon as planned.

We decided to go for it, and set out in the rain, crossing overswollen streams that, with a little more time, could become impassable. There was a steep descent from the headwall of the canyon to the canyon floor, beyond which the trail was gradual and very wide and well marked. We didnt somehow worry as much this time, even though it was a similar situation to descending the Breche with a 'mountaineering' route and a normal-people route. Instead, we just walked, mostly in silence because it is really difficult to hear in the rain because of the noise of the rain itself, and your hood covers your ears so everything is somewhat muffled. We made it to the bottom of the headwall, greeted by the Ordesa Waterfall which was an absolute raging tiger. It was like a pack of tigers, roaring and spitting and menacing. It was truly awesome, and frightening, like if you got too close it might reach out and grab you or let loose some watery tentacle. In awe, but cold and wet, we left the waterfall after a few minutes, but not before taking stock of the dozens of other, smaller waterfalls that were appearing by the minute on the canyon walls. It was our reward for slogging in the wet rain - there were waterfalls everywhere, as though they needed company and had been kept locked away the rest of the time. Spectacular.

We descended the canyon, pausing to look at the big waterfalls of the main river Ordesa, and arrived at the blessed cafe at the car park near the trailhead. That was one (er two, actually) good cup of coffee. This was where the bus to town goes from, and even though we had time and there is a trail we couldve walked, we opted for a 3 euro ride to town.

Torla became our little repose in the mountains. We found a lovely little gite d'etape (these are called auberge in Spain - which is funny, since thats still a french word, no?) and we strung a line and again splayed out all our soaking stuff all over the room. We stayed a couple of days there, drying out, contemplating life and wandering around this town of cobblestone and gift shops. The town was quite beautiful, and i must say that the shops were nicely done, at least not ALL of them were hawking over-the-top tourist crap. The streets were tiny, didnt appear to be fit for cars at all, and there were these little doorways tucked in through a corridor so it made me feel like i was in a medieval castle. All in all, we loved the town and i cant think of a better place to be stuck for a while.

When the rain finally did let up, we went for a walk back up the canyon. We could see white capped mountains where we had been a few days earlier, and the cayon seemed to glisten like a child's eyes after having a good cry. It felt like that too - the canyon was now warm and mild, and everything seemed fresh and crisp, recently scoured from the rain and wind. Everything was vibrant and smelled of damp earth and leaves.

Next day we set out for our last hut, up the GR-11 a few hours to Bujarelo. We didn't have much of a plan, since all of our distance planning was gone now that we'd spent several days in Torla instead of on the road. In Bujarelo we were greeted by the loveliest hut-auberge there ever has been. No plan needed when youre staying at Refugio San Nicholas! It was gorgeous with hot water and showers, good coffee and all the amenities of an auberge in town, but its out of town situated in a valley on a sparkling river. We stayed two nights, and explored one of the valleys nearby, which was filled with cows and big fat fuzzy marmots. The food was excellent, and food was available made-to-order (as it was at most of the refuges, but the food at Bujarelo was really good). We played some more cards and ate the rest of our store-bought food, and tried to bite down on the reality of leaving the mountains. We drank wine and hung out with the staff of the refuge who gathered around a hearth at night and drank wine and played guitar.

And that was the end of trekking in Spain! It was beautiful, and we were really glad in the end that we did what we did, and got to spend time in Torla and at Bujarelo. We saw some incredible scenery, and vowed to come back for more, sometime in the not-too-distant future. Bueno!

Le Tour, part 2a - Pyrenees France

Picked up Vera in Barcelona at the airport, and before she had a chance to realize she was jet-lagged, scooted off to the mountains. At the train station we found out that we couldnt use our passes for the first half of the journey, because all the rail pass seats were booked. This worked out just fine because Vera was able to not use her train pass the whole time and she can get a refund. So we embarked on the day-long journey to Lourdes. At the train station in Toulouse, we saw people making the pilgrimage to Lourdes - we didnt realize it at first, since the women wear habits very similar to the uniform of a WWII nurse. I honestly thought there might be some kind of re-enactment going on, and then i kept seeing more of them, plus the discussion of the healing waters in Lourdes reappeared.

See Vera's pictures from our trip, here.

We agreed to meet Sandra and Abi in Cauterets, which is an adorable skiing town. Its quite touristy, but they serve good cafe au lait. Cauterets was a great starting place, since the scenery around that area is spectacular. No matter where you start in the Pyrenees, theres a stiff uphill climb ahead of you, though, and Cauterets - Refuge des Oulettes de Gaube was no exception. (See these photos of the hut). By the end of the first day, we were exhausted and no less than ecstatic to see the hut which served an enormous carbo-tastic meal (veggie options too!). We camped next to the hut, much to Vera's chagrin, since the designated campsite was situated in the river floodplain and right beneath a talus slope - "you'd have to be STUPID to camp in a glacial moraine valley". I was heartened by the 20 or so other campers who didnt seem to notice the impending flood or landslide, although doomsday headlines did flash before my eyes several times. Fortunately, we all emerged unscathed although this wasnt the most helpful to remedy Vera's jetlag.

Breakfast in the refuges is continental - that is, coffee or tea, bread, jam, butter, croissants if you're lucky. Cold cereal and milk was usually provided as well. So after "breakfast" (i quickly learned that i could carry a loaf of bread and some cheese and just pay for the coffee to save some money and longing for eggs and toast) we set off with our legs aching already. However, despite the hurting and the longing for more breakfast with real coffee, i was quite content since this area was as spectacular as anything i could have hoped for (Sam was RIGHT! not that i ever doubted, but). We climbed our first high mountain pass in better time than i hoped, so with some urging and a nice break we dropped our packs and headed up Petit Viginemale, a high peak close to the saddle at the pass. The weather was clear, despite a dry thunderstorm the night before (that didnt help the nervous sleeping situation). The top was crowded but absolutely great views. We could see the valley we were headed down to Gavarnie, and the Breche de Roland in the distance looking like a gap in a toothy kid's front teeth. Below us on the other side of the pass we'd just climbed was Refuge Baysellance, where we stopped to eat lunch at their tables. Both these first two refuges we encountered were new looking, clean and lush. We descended into the valley des oulettes, for our long walk into Gavarnie.

We had a good long way to go to get to tree line, and we were all acutely aware of the thunderheads building as we descended. Just about the time we scrambled over the last of the exposed rock-ledge bits (there werent many, but enough for those of us afraid of heights) the rain started. However, there wasnt thunder, so we just kept walking. There were plenty of other people on the trail. In France, it is customary to say "Bon jour" (or Bon jour! or Bon JOUR!, however you feel) to everyone you see on the trail. I loved this custom, seems very civil and nice to me. Not so nice when someone then tries to keep talking to me in French and i cant understand a dang word and i have to admit my American ignorance.

Luckily we had french-gifted people wiht us, and Abi and Sandra, surely after a lively Bon jour!, struck up a conversation with some fellow hikers. They were just out for the day, and offered to give the four of us a ride to Gavarnie from the car park. Saved from the rain! By the time we made it to the car, we were already drowned rats. All of our stuff was wet and muddy, and to make matters worse these guys who gave us a ride had a volkswagen station wagon, with leather interior. Abi told me later she thought it was a rental car, but still, i wanted to jump out from embarrassment when the bottom of the car scraped rocks several times as we zipped down the dirt road which is steep and winds into Gavarnie. Well they put up with us and hauled all of us and our wet shtuff to town, and we thanked them profusely and scampered off before they could record our details to report to the insurance company.

Accomodation under a roof, and hot food are like winning the lottery when trekking in the rain. We found this amazing gite d'etape (like a hostel-refuge that serves food) and splayed all our stuff out to dry and went to order glorious pizza and wine. On our way, we discovered that the town of Gavarnie has absolutely astoundingly beautiful views, and the cirque du Gavarnie has become one of my favorite places on the trek. The town looks south onto the cirque, and Le Grande Cascade. The cirque and the waterfall seem unreal, and i stared at them, standing on the wet ground and the scent of wet leaves and dirt surrounded me. The clouds hovered just above the ridgeline, and it seemed as though we'd been delivered to wonderland. In a volkswagon.

Next day we set out for the Refuge des Sarradets (Vera calls it the "crazy hut at the pass"). We were skeptical about the pass above the refuge, and the climb up to the hut looked dicey on the map. Reading in the book, we learned of a glacier crossing above the hut that sounded dicey - you need ropes and training for that! So we gathered all information we could, and talked to some people at the gite d'etape who had been up there the previous day, and sussed out that we could make it, that it wasnt as bad as the book said. So we set out, not without trepidation, and as we started the steep part of the day, (the second half), the clouds were already gathering over the peaks. Us Colorado girls saw this as a BAD sign, meaning, we better make it SOON or we might have to turn back because of a thunderstorm up there. This was the day that Sandra was parting with us, so we said a hurried goodbye, and made a run for it. Later, Abi told us that she never wanted to hear those words again in the context of climbing. First, "running" is quite the wrong metaphor for going full steam, while still only moving at snails pace because its so steep and your pack is so heavy. Second, if you're making a "run for it", you maybe shouldnt be there anyway, right? Well anyway, we made a last push for the top and we made it in an hour up the steepest bits and up the waterfall you have to use chains to assist climbing. The waterfall was stressful, not because it was that scary, but because it was crowded and there were all these people with kids in their little tennis shoes and there was no right of way or yielding pattern so it was sort of a free for all. Regardless, we made it and the view! The hut! When we arrived at the hut (it was only 12.30), we were exhausted. And, the weather never got terrible. It rained, but no thunder and it cleared up in the afternoon.

So we had a rest day in one of my favorite places on our trek. It was glorious. We watched the waterfall, and we read and we napped in the sun. We drank coffee and we played crazy norwegian-style gin rummy. Exquisite. We talked to people about the pass ahead, and consulted our maps. We decided that based on what we'd already done and what the maps showed, it would be fine to try for the pass the next day. The pass, the Breche de Roland, is the border between France and Spain, and the story about Spain will be continued from here.

Le Tour, Zagreb Interlude

Now in Zagreb, trying to learn how to say basic phrases and count to ten in Croatian. I will post about the Pyrenees trip and Barcelona soon.

Leaving Barcelona, the train was delayed, and i missed the first connection in the series of four trains that was to deliver me to Zagreb sunday morning. Trying to resolve the issue in Montpelier, the woman at the train station communicated through rough english and spanish that i would have to make a new reservation in Geneva. The scenery on the train journey through eastern France was absolutely gorgeous. Mountains and cliffs, forests and vineyards. I read Stephen Jay Gould essays and dreamed about what the next phase of my life and career might be.

Upon arrival in Geneva, i was surprised in my ignorance to learn that (obvious now that i think about it) Switzerland is not part of the EU, and they only take Swiss Francs for money. All the change offices were closed, so i managed to pay for some coffee with euros. I made a new reservation, this time leaving a bit later but a bit more direct to Zagreb, only now i was due in to Croatia in the late afternoon instead of the morning on sunday. No matter, i still had a new reservation.

As i boarded the train, i realized that the ticket agent had misunderstood me, and booked me in a sleeper car instead of a seat, a happy mistake since it meant i had a little bunk to sleep in more comfortably. Thankfully my bunk was on the bottom row (i'm still scared of sleeping on the top bunk) and as i sat back in my bed to read, i saw a flash of light outside. I looked up and there was a full display of fireworks proceeding, in perfect view, outside the train in the distance. As orange and golden balls of light exploded in streaks in the sky, i felt a great sense of peace and the conducter idled the engine such that the train slowed and i could see the show with ease. The rest of the trip to Zagreb went smoothly and without obstacle (although the border guards in Croatia adamantly questioned me about where i was going and why).

I landed into the lovely city of Zagreb, and have since been steadily eating and drinking my way through town. Sandra is such a gracious host, picking me up from the train station and patiently teaching me Croatian, listening to me stumble my way through pronunciation as i try to read the writing on the food cartons and billboards. Jessica was here for a couple of days as well, and we did a walking tour of the city which was really nice and gave good views of the city. Highlights of the eating and drinking include coffee at a street cafe listening to live cello-guitar duo and lunch at a macrobiotic cafe, Makro Nova. So far, so great!

More on this and the previous bits of the trip i've omitted, soon.

Le Tour, part 1 Oxford - Barcelona

Le grande tour of Europe began three weeks ago, late at night after a chocolate tasting in the cyptic quarters of Magdalen College. After a frenzy of packing and errands, Caroline and Jessica made elderberry pastry while i unloaded the contents of my kitchen cupboard onto Jessica´s bedroom floor. Thank goodness she´s staying in Oxford, otherwise i would have had no such luck. Anyway, we tasted chocolate and by the time we said goodbyes it was already 1 am. Jessica and i had to catch a 3 am bus, so we decided just to stay awake, since Jessica had to pack anyway. We walked out of Magdalen´s Holywell Ford at 2.45 am, and thus the journey began.

The bus brought us, bedraggled, to a cabon-neutral cab, the cab brought us to the train. The train took us through the chunnel to Paris, and oooh la la! Nick W and Sandra met us at the station, and about fell over laughing when they saw how much luggage i had. Nick sherpa´d us to his sister´s flat. Dazed and confused, we walked past the Moulin Rouge and then to the storefront where Amelie buys her groceries in that film of the same name. We walked to Montmarte, and the Basilique du Sacre Coeur which is the most amazing view of the entire city. It was like walking into a dream, with Paris laid out at our fingertips. Gorgeous. Then Nick played tour guide, and we drank coffee and we went to Notre Dame and the Louvre and the Seine and it was all very nice and Parisian. We ogled the bread, the pastries, the shops. There was a shop that only sold pots of mustard and vinegar. You can bring your own jar, and theres a tap that pours out different kinds of mustard. Plenty of entertainment in Paris, for the foodies certainly.

After some eating and interesting car packing, we sqaushed into Nick´s vauxhall, risked our lives driving round the Arc de Triomphe (good driving Nico!), and drove out of the city past the Eiffel Tower. Au revior to Paris, bon jour to Cognac! We drove to Sam´s family house which is on the north coast, about halfway between Bordeaux and La Rochelle. Its in cognac country, vineyards everywhere and fields of spent sunflowers. Little villages, dotting the landscape between rolling fields. All very picturesque and lovely, until then you have to try to find some house address and none of the roads have street signs or names apparent. After some searching and additional direction from Sam, we made it to the hostel of heaven. The house was amazing, with lavender growing out front, fig and plum and pear trees in the back and vineyards all around. A swimming pool in the back convinced us we shouldn´t ever need to leave. However, we were fortunately next to the beach, so we went there too. The beach was full of people, and good size waves. I wasn´t aware that clothing is optional on a french beach, but apparently, it is.

We made a big feast and told stories and said goodbyes - one last class goodbye, even though many were already missing. Then at 6 am on a misty morning, Nick and Jessica shepherded me off to the train station, where i met my first all day train trip, from Bordeaux to Barcelona (via Toulouse, Narbonne and the coast). No views of the Pyrenees as i had hoped - they were still too far away and tucked in the haze. But amazingly, i was able to muddle my way through with only 5 words of french and some euros. It turns out that one of the most important words to know for me is the word for "meat", so i can point and ask for "food without meat". Sin carne, por favor. If you just try all the languages you know usually you can communicate something, or at least you end up laughing together if nothing gets through.

This all delivered me safely to Barcelona, in the late of the night, 11 pm. And Nuria was there, at the train station to catch me! My saving grace. We hauled my baggage through the stiflingly hot metro to her flat in Barcelona, and flopped into bed after cranking up the air conditioning so we could sleep a while. Then the next chapter began...the Pyrenees.

Hip Hip Hooray!

Laura and Naomi
Originally uploaded by n_yoder.

Weeks of work. Days of high stress. Late nights. Hard work. Here we are, finished with our dissertations! Yesterday was our due date, and we all submitted on time, for better or worse. It feels like a dream now. All my books are back at the library. All my notes are packed away. It is such a relief, and such a release. There is a reason to write a Master's thesis in 3 months: the reward of feeling free from the stress of reading one more paper, one more book. Digesting that information and incorporating it intelligently into an already complex study. Unfortunately, the side effect is that now its difficult to think clearly, to process. Regardless, i'm proud of all of us! We did so much work, and put in so many collective hours. All of us had moments when we didn't think it would ever be complete. Yet, here we are, tired and worn as we might be. Now we're all off to different corners of the world to spread love and conservation. Great job guys!

Stay tuned for travel diaries from me, as i move around continental Europe for a while.

Henry the boy King and PROMS

Voyage to Stratford-upon-Avon (shakespeare's birthplace) to see Henry VI, part III. I had never heard of Henry VI, much less a story that involved three parts. But the RSC is offering free tickets to people under 30, for the Courtyard Theatre. They are putting on the complete works throughout this year, so we went to see this little-known show.

To my delight, it was fabulous. It was really well done, well choreagraphed. The acting was superb. Henry VI was crowned King when he was 6 months old, and there was a prophesy that he was doomed to fail. Meanwhile, this is the point in time when Richard of York - who will become Richard III, is rising to the scene, fighting in the War of the Roses against Henry's clan. Richard is wicked, tortmented, disfigured and pathetic - all acted superbly. The set was minimal, with nice rust-brushed metal for the floor and tower backdrop. Lots of fighting and blood, but it was as well done as this can be without eliminating it. I also like the power-hungry Queen Margaret - she was a better sword-fighter than Henry was! She wore a tweed dress with a high collar and a sword belt holster. She was fearsome. All in all, they did an excellent job and there was no problem at all following the story. It makes me remember why i love Shakespeare - to see a really well executed show.

Last night was Proms at Royal Albert Hall. This is a summer music extravaganza - there's a concert EVERY DAY for two months. Its classical music, and its incredible. It was created to make classical music accessible to the common people - cheap tickets and great music. What could be better? For 5 pounds, we walked in and sat in about the third row for a Haydn piece and two Mozart pieces, full ensemble and full chorus. It was spectacular, and i plan to go again. It also happens to take place about a block away from the Natural History Museum, where i am many days. Perfect. Nice diversions!

Open Letter to Dave Para

Dear Dave,
You never say all the things you want to before its too late. I wanted to tell you how much i love you, how much you’ve given me as a friend. There is a piece of the world missing without you in it. I can’t believe i won’t be seeing you again. I hope we meet again in another lifetime.

One of my first memories of you is seeing you on the front lawn at Boulder High School, 9th grade, 1990. You always wore the red bandana, tied at four corners in knots, a funny hippie-hat. You had long curly hair, always covered by the bandana. But the bandana that earned you the name “bandana-man” among the freshman girls didn’t hide your dimples or your infectious smile and positive attitude. We became friends, and our groups of friends were friends. There were tie-dye shirts, Led Zeppelin and the journey to Vail in my blue blazer (Towanda, rah!). You taught me how to ride the back bowls, and tried stupid tricks on your snowboard. You showed me Monkey’s Traverse on Flagstaff. You always wore shorts to school, even during the cold of winter. We wondered if you even owned a pair of pants.

Remember after you got back from traveling in Australia and New Zealand? You told me about Tasmanian Devils (sound effects included) and Nutella and rainbow-striped long johns and feral kids. You told me that you used to drive pedal cab in Seattle, where you rented the bike-cab from a company, and got to keep all the money you made. So instead of charging a flat fee for service, you asked passengers to pay what they thought the ride was worth. When you started flight school, you worked really hard. You studied and borrowed and made sacrifices. You were really passionate about flying and becoming a serious pilot, which you did. I’m sorry it ended this way, but just think: at least it happened in Indian Peaks Wilderness – a beautiful place where you had spent a lot of time.

I loved your girlfriends, without fail. You chose to be with people that were beautiful and talented and wanted to save the world one day at a time, with smiles and creativity. Margaret, Julie, and Bree stand out especially. When i first met Julie i thought you had met your equal – she was as tall as you were short, she had crazier hair than you did, she wore mismatched and second-hand items just like you did! Then later, when you and Bree started going out, you showed me the little monster-pillow guy she had made for you, and i knew she was a great match for you.

I will miss you because you named your bike after your sister Miranda, and you tied streamers to the ends of the handlebars. I will miss your love of musicals: you liked the idea of people suddenly breaking out into song and dance when things get rough or sappy. I will miss you because you considered my pleas for you to join Cirque du Soleil, prompted by me seeing it for the first time. When i told you i was applying to Oxford for grad school, we laughed because you were wearing an Oxford sweatshirt – except you had gotten it from the free box or as a hand-me-down – not because you really wanted to wear something that said Oxford. You wished me luck all the same, and i was still expecting you to be ready to go to the jungle with me when i got back to go save biodiversity and All Things Good.

I was looking forward to seeing you again, to hearing about your life in the past year. I was looking forward to meeting your future kids one day. I was wondering how we could get you a plane so you could fly trips to aid conservation. I was hoping you could show me how to swing fire poi. I wanted to tell you about biodiversity and herbaria and nudibranches and rowing and sufjan stevens; food politics and Snowdonia and my nieces and Oostvaderplassen. One of the last times i saw you, we went to see Sweet Honey in the Rock at the Boulder Theater. Its somehow appropriate because their music helps me through the sadness of losing you. I know we all die, and we have talked about it, but i just didn’t get as much time as i would have liked with you. I would have liked to tell you one last time how great you are, what a blessing you are and how bright your light was you shone on the world. You were always there for me, even when we didn’t see each other for months at a time. I will miss you Billy D. I will miss your light in my life, and in the world, but i will try to continue to dance and celebrate as i know you’d want me to.

Love,
nomes

(for more info see http://www.denverpost.com/news/ci_4119473# . to all Dave’s friends and family, i am with you in attention and intention. i wish i could be there with you now. we will get through this.)

Good customer service! In England!

In response to my English friends feeling somewhat slighted by the England day = bad day comment (sorry guys, you know its not personal), i have a GOOD story! I will even consider renouncing my definition of an England day. Here's the story: i needed to return some headphones i bought through Amazon.co.uk. You can track all of your orders, and see your account history online. When i went to find out where to call - since the headphones are outside the 30-day return period - after some searching i came across a "contact customer service" link. When you go to click on "call customer support", you type your number into a box, and THEY call you right back! Its brilliant, because all mobile phones (and land lines, for that matter) charge for outgoing calls but not incoming! So you don't have to waste your minutes calling customer service! Amazon.co.uk has renewed my faith that there IS such a thing as good English customer service - also they resolved my issue, and said they'd send me a replacement for my faulty headphones. I stand (somewhat) corrected - before i renounce my definition, i should point out that Amazon was originally an - ahem - American company. So - i'll gather more evidence and renounce if necessary. Until then, let it be known that not all companies are party to the VORTEX of black-hole customer service in England.

Notes from the Tube

More happenings on the tube: in addition to the earlier post about women applying makeup on the tube, i saw the most incredible one the other day. This woman was painting her nails, standing up, on the train. Fire engine red. Good god. She did a decent job too. Good thing she didn't have this happen:

Yesterday i lost my footing on the train, and fell into someone's lap. Full on, complete fall with my bag in their face, sort of straddling two passengers. They were very nice about it, but the fact was i was the one at fault. I wasn't holding on, i was getting out my reading material, and the train lurched and i teetered, and there was no bar to grab onto, and nowhere to balance my feet. I just fell backward onto some laps. The guy was really nice, but i was mortified and the woman was possibly tying not to scream because i might have smashed her toes in her flip-flops. What do you do? I apologized profusely, but its kind of like "hey, sorry for being such an asshole" and then what? Anyway, the moral of the story is: don't stand on the tube without holding on. Unless the train is so crowded that you can't move and if it lurches the crowd will "catch" you - don't do it. Its not worth the embarrassment or the potential for damaged body parts.

One of those "England" days

Lets start with the good news: i recovered my phone. It was lost, and then it miraculously was turned in and now i am reunited with this small piece of critical equiptment. Thank you to the lost-item gods.

Now, on to the black-hole effect that i encounter in England on a regular basis.

After i got to the museum on Monday, i realized that the missing phone had indeed not been left there. I promptly called the Oxford Bus Company to see if anything had been turned in. Lo and behold, the woman on the other end of the line said, yes, a phone matching that description WAS turned in, and she would go and get it to verify it was mine! Hurrah - until i was put on "hold" (the handset of the phone was simply set down on the counter). For about 10 agonizing minutes, i could hear that the woman had returned with an object (said phone) and was talking to a colleague (now an assumed Monster or Man-in-Black perhaps) about their weekends and their kids and their next holiday. At some point i started asking, loudly, if they could hear me - had they forgotten about me? Now i know: this is why, when you normally call the Oxford Bus Company, it takes about 5 minutes for anyone to answer the phone! Its not because, as the recorded message states, "All of their customer service representatives are very busy" - rather, they're idly chit-chatting about the weather and footie and the godawful haircut they had recently. Gah! So i chew my nails, shout occasionally into the phone, and finally, my heroine comes back. "Yes! We have your phone!" she says. I ask if she's sure - since when i had called over the weekend, there was another phone of very similar description which was NOT mine. Well, she's mostly sure, but i want to be very sure - so i ask her to turn it on and check so that i can identify the picture wallpaper. BAD idea, since this activity (presumably very simple, no?) takes another ten minutes with more evidence of office joking and chatting. After a while - meantime i had come very close to hanging up and calling back because i thought they'd forgotten about me again - she says, "Yes! We have your phone!". Great, i say and arrange to come pick it up that day, before 5 when they close. Superb.
I catch the early bus back to Oxford, and arrive at the bus station, walk into the office, and announce the purpose of my visit. The nice young woman behind the counter looks at me sympathetically, and says, "No, we don't have any phone here". I tell her, in as calm a manner as possible, that there has been some mistake, now kicking myself for not getting the woman's name i spoke with earlier. I start to think there's been some bad joke, and this bus station IS one of the portals into the Underworld or outer space. Monsters Inc is real?!
It turns out, that the lost and found is NOT LOCATED at the bus station! Its located about 30 minutes away, in south Oxford! Okay, well that would have been useful information to know, since its now ten minutes until 5, when they close. Thank god for Searle, the man at the office who takes pity on me and my plight, and agrees to let me in if i knock at the door when i arrive, as long as its before 8.30. Soon, after some suburban trekking in the industrial district (i did get to see the warehouse where Mini's are built) i arrive and am happily re-united with my phone! Hurrah! And, i am currently backing up my address book as i write.
This whole experience led me to the conclusion that things do not operate on a logical progression necessarily in England. It has to do with the ideas of customer service, and providing the necessary information in a logical way. When this effect is most pronounced, i know its been an "England" day - things work out, but in a needlessly circuitous, frustrating fashion. Maybe this happens everywhere, or maybe England just has more portals into the Otherworlds that i've heard and read so much about. I prefer to think its the latter (witness the Plant Sciences Library as well, and O2, and the Royal Mail and the OUCE IT department, and, and...). Of course there are exceptions like The Alternative Tuck Shop (are they efficient or WHAT?) and the London Tube system, but if we assemble all the data, there seems to be something going on here. All makes me more thankful that anything ever really happens or manages to work properly.

An unexplored planet teeming with new lifeforms

Searching for Mina Carlota, Cuba, i came across this little gem from E.O. Wilson, who surely should be knighted by now for his incredible service to our discipline. My favorite is this passage, written in response to the amazing diversity and species he was seeing in New Caledonia:

• "Take me, Lord, to an unexplored planet teeming with new life forms. Put me at the edge of virgin swampland dotted with hummocks of high ground, let me saunter at my own pace across it and up the nearest mountain ridge, in due course to cross over to the far slope in search of more distant swamps, grasslands, and ranges. Let me be the Carolus Linnaeus of this world, bearing no more than specimen boxes, botanical canister, hand lens, notebooks, but allowed not Fears but centuries of time. And should I somehow tire of the land, let me embark on the sea in search of new islands and archipelagoes. Let me go alone, at least for a while, and I will report to You and loved ones at intervals and I will publish reports on my discoveries for colleagues. For if it was You who gave me this spirit, then devise the appropriate reward for its virtuous use...."

There is something incredible and moving about seeing, touching, smelling, hearing something new and extraordinary. Put many of those things together at once and we experience...awe, beauty, fear, inspiration? Maybe this is why so many people describe feeling "more alive" in the wilderness. Thanks, Guru Wilson!

Seven seven

The museum observed two minutes of silence yesterday at noon in rememberance of the 7/7 bombings last year in London. I gathered with maybe two hundred people: visitors, staff, directors, contractors in the central hall. There was an announcement and a low hush spread over the crowd. As i looked around, i realized that the number of people standing together is only a fraction of the number of people injured by the blasts. It is such a heavy and tragic feeling, to confront the sudden deaths and numbers of people killed and injured. It made the knowledge of the 7/7 evenets feel much more weighty, real - the victims were robbed of their lives, and the ripples were intense through the fabric of society.

I do believe that we can, and will, find ways to stop killing and harming each other. Saving all sentient beings from suffering is our goal. If we move toward that, we fix everything, including environmental and social problems. Environmental conservation IS about social values shifting, and as Jared Diamond so thoroughly illustrates, all environmental degredation has been one of the pillars leading to societal collapse in history. So in order for anything to change, everything has to change, and everyone has to do their part. Listen, good people: continue to be the change you wish to see in the world, especially in the face of adversity.

More on evolution

After i posted the questions about plant evolution, i got some answers in the form of lectures given by distinguished researchers. At the Natural History Museum, Dr. Ansell has done research into the chloroplast (the structure that makes plants green and is responsible for photosynthesis) genome. He says, roughly, that the genome is much more highly complex and variable than we previously thought, and that the variation within that DNA could be responsible for the extraordinary speciation we see in vascular plants.

Dr. Rieseberg, of Univ. of British Columbia, then gave an outstanding lecture which i attended, about the mechanisms of speciation in plants. He discussed the concept of a species, and systematically proved that its a good concept for plants (as has been debated and questioned by botanists since Darwin's time). He also talks about the spread of "advantageous mutations" and tested the inheritance of certain genetic traits in widespread plants. His conclusion is that a "species" is likely reinforced, or encouraged to remain separate from other similar plants, by the spread of advantageous mutations.

Which brings me to some speculative points:
Polunin says there are several "eras" or heydays of taxa: these are times when the organisms flourished, diversified, and occupied much of the planet. So the first heyday (in the early Paleozoic) was Fishes and Ferns. Then in the Mesozoic period was the rise of the Reptiles (including dinosaurs) and Gymnosperms. Now in the Cenozoic, we're in the age of Mammals (including us) and Angiosperms. My theory is that these explosions of proliferation and diversity among taxa have to do with the most available resources (water, heat, food), and with mutual benefits. So maybe its no accident that mammals and all animals depend on higher plants for their source of respiration: oxygen. And likewise, plants use what we breathe out - and maybe this lends weight to why we see a parallel rise of these groups now. So the recent rise of mammals and angiosperms could be (partly) about mutual benefit. This would favor the advantageous mutation theory too.

Ask a big question, get a big(ger) set of questions.

You go girl

One more thing: big props to the women who apply their makeup on the Tube. Are you crazy?! I saw a woman today, painting her eyebrows in. Its a fine art, as the train jerks along and lurches, she deftly lifts the pencil from her face, and draws a line with the same pointilist method. I've seen this several times now, and i am impressed. I think it should be commissioned as performance art.

Gingko and plant evolution

The plant world is astounding. It turns out that flowering plants, angiosperms, are only at their peak in this geologic epoch. Relatively recent. Why should it be that this evolutionary mechanism (pollen and ovary reproductive structures) are the most prevelant? Is it a coincidence that Gingko biloba, when taken daily, can help with memory, while this plant is among the OLDEST living vascular plant relatives? Does it have some collective memory properties because its just been around for so long? And my book (Polunin's Plant Geography) says that plants just came up on to land at some point. Coincidence? Maybe over milennia, coincidence just morphs into evolution. Angiosperms have this complex method of reproduction, whereby the pollen grain has to find the flower of the appropriate plant (might be on another individual, far away from the origination of the pollen grain) and then, once landed on the flower, grow a pollen tube to deposit the gametes. It is just an unlikely and accident-prone system - yet somehow the earth is covered with these things! Over 250,000 species - the only other taxa with more species in it are the bugs (beetles in fact). So maybe the question becomes: why angiosperms and beetles? I guess the answer for now is, why not?

How to have cream tea

Good things happen every day.

Today there was cream tea, and lots of sun and another job application (Kew) in the mail.

As for the cream tea, there are some certain things that pertain. First, i can verify that the V&A does indeed do a nice cream tea. Cream tea is usually taken in the late afternoon - say between 2.30 and 4.30. Earl grey is customary (milk in the tea is acceptable). One takes a scone, a pat or two of butter, a healthy helping of jam - strawberry, but today there was also the unusual raspberry - and a splot of clotted cream. Split the scone into halves - or, as my instructor told me, "chop it into as many bits as you can, but halves at least" - spread butter, glop on some jam, spread on clotted cream, and more jam if you like. Perfect! I also learned about elevenses. Its the intaking of food (usually cream tea) at around 11 am. Its not only for hobbitses, as i thought when i first heard it - although Wikipedia informs me that it IS indeed a meal for LOTR people!

This being my second partaking of cream tea, i decided i think i've got the hang of it and i should have it MUCH more often. Thinking about that scone recipe rolling around the back of my mind. One of the things we discussed at tea was about how the farmers and peasants used to eat and drink something about every hour to keep fueled and hydrated. This got pared down into even less eating occasions, but the big meal was always at noon. So we have breakfast, elevenses, dinner (at noon), tea (food with tea in the afternoon) and supper/evening dinner. However, as industrialization occurred along with urbanization and modernization, now people tend to eat less frequently but more at one time, and cream tea is for fun or sometimes instead of a coffee break. Regardless, it is fun and i recommend it, as well as the V&A.

Also i am reading Collapse. Just finished the chapter on Montana and started on Easter Island. Its interesting, and the outline of Montana's problems (though no solutions are really given) is indicative of some of the widespread problems throughout the Intermountain West.

Disturbance hypothesis

Graduate school in my life is analagous to disturbance in an ecological system. Its disruptive, its difficult, it pushes my limits, and ultimately it cleans things out and provides fertile ground for growth and change. Most ecological systems require some disturbance, or are dependent on disturbance events for some piece of their functioning (fire, flood, wind, etc). Maybe it makes sense, then, that so many people choose to subject themselves to the catastrophic lifestyle of graduate school. Its a challenge, it pushes us to find our limits, it expands our horizons and perspectives. Just in the meantime, we feel a bit ruffled and tousled. Yet another way the human organism is similar to the ecosystems we are part of and inhabit. Now, i just have to figure out how publishing work fits into this scheme of lunacy?

Wales!

Rock-biter territory
Originally uploaded by n_yoder.

Two weekends ago, went to Wales (Snowdonia) for some hiking, hut-living, and playing in the sun. It was perfect weather. We arrived friday night in Caroline's mighty little car, tromped about 500 yards to the cabin and made ourselves right at home. Sunny, but not too hot. We made soup:
traditional Bulgarian soup, with stinging nettles. by Antoniya
Normal soup stock (potatoes, carrots, onions)
Trim the nettles to just the new tips.
Add the nettles toward the end.
Turn off the heat, and working quickly take a bit of broth out, and add a touch of vinegar to this.
Beat in an egg quickly so the broth runs smooth. Broth should be hot, but not boiling or the egg will cook - it should "melt" into the soup.
Perfect!

Then hiking all day saturday, with spectacular views and weather (see the Flickr site for photos). Fabulous dinner at the pub where Peter had reserved a table for our weary, merry group. Then we set off Thai lanterns Peter had: they are paper cylindrical lanterns and they float into the sky under the power of a little bunson burner. Beautiful. Slept under the stars, and realized too late that the sun now rises around 4 am.

All around great trip and a highly recommended location for outdoor fun.

Celebrate 2006

Celebrate 2006
Originally uploaded by Mike Grenville.

Somehow we missed this; didn't find out about it until today. You gotta love London!

Sol Source

Photos and stories from hiking in Wales to be posted soon. It was absolutely glorious and fabulous, in sum.

In other news, i am official at the museum for the summer:
Check out the website
(don't click if you're not intested in my shameless self promotion)
Bring on the specimens! Its databasing time. Oh, and georeferencing can come too.

The boathouses were packed with people.

Saturday of Summer VIIIs

We rowed really well, we rowed really hard. We got bumped, but it was less of a defeat this time because we were just strong and managed to hold them off for a long way. We all gave it everything we had, and it was a good race.

Then we rowed home, had some drinks and threw Judy in the river. It was fabulous, and an all around excellent time.

Saturday warming up. Taken by Jessica from the bridge.

Addicted to pain and suffering

We were feeling good. Nervous, but strong and hopeful. I REALLY wanted to bump Osler-Green. We were looking good and the practice starts in the warm-up felt good. The weather had cleared up. Then somehow, things went wrong after the start gun. As we were closing on OG (which we really were, just not as fast as we'd hoped), Hertford came up behind us fast. We fought, but not hard enough, not long enough, not enough enough. We couldn't hold them off, and we conceded to them while still a length off OG.

Tough one. It sucks to be bumped. It sucks to lose. And, we tried our best. So we'll try again tomorrow, we'll brush it off, and we'll hunt down Hertford on a saturday afternoon. How does rowing (and losing) turn me into a petty revenge seeker? I do believe its an overdose of lactic acid buildup and shifty weather. Or maybe the rivermud all over my clothes, bike and backpack. Okay W1 - we know what we can do so lets ride Hertford the whole way tomorrow.

St Hildas Women's First VIII. Thursday of Summer VIIIs racing.

Thursday racing. See that grimace? Its PAIN

Bittersweet Defeat

Maybe we were overconfident. Maybe we didn't have a proper crew chat. Maybe we just didn't row well. Because the sun was shining, perfect weather, we were chasing a crew that isn't as fast as us, and we had every reason to bump in this race. But we didn't. They bumped before we could catch them - so we rowed on. The good news is we didn't get bumped either, so we stay in the same place as yesterday. And, we know now that we do have work to do - its not going to be easy, but we can row well and we can keep bumping. We just won't get blades (bump every day). So now that we won't be getting blades, the pressure is eased a little bit and we can focus on the fun part of rowing, doing our best and just having a good time on the water! Bring on friday!

St Hildas closing on Queens

St Hildas closing on Queens
Originally uploaded by n_yoder.

At approximately 18:20, St Hilda's Womens 1st eight bumped Queen's Womens 1st eight in the gut. This Weds 25 May, first day of Summer Eights 2006. Beast it Hilda's! (For all my loyal fans: i'm sitting at 2, second from the end of the boat in the foreground of the picture)

Three cheers for the first eight! Congrats guys.

Hip Hip Hooray!

Exams over! I made it through, alive! Its amazing. And glorious. This had to be one of the most stressful experiences of my life. The last exam went relatively well, and the relief once it was finished was exquisite - like a tangible weight being lifted. Here are the questions i answered yesterday:

2a/ Critically evaluate the success of the 1992 Convention on Biological Diversity.

5/ What is rapid biodiversity assessment? With examples discuss the circumstances in which this approach is required.

6b/ Assess the evidence that the global network of protected areas does not cover the geographic ranges of enough species. Why might this be so?

Sorry, folks, but my camera is broken and all the photos i took didn't come out. I will get some photos from classmates to post here very soon.

Finally, thank you for all your support which has helped me get me to this point. I couldn't have reached this milestone without your support and belief in me - thank you. Lots of love and conservation!

Exams - day 2 - breathe deeply

"Lose the panic" as our cox would say. Today was all about panic. Not enough prepared material, not enough references stuck in my head. Not enough coherent structure or argument in my essays. But, the good news is: more than halfway through! One more day, and exams are over! Here are the questions i answered today:

5/ Is there any such thing as a business solution to the biodiversity crisis?
7/ What role, if any, do religions play in biodiversity conservation?
8a/ Discuss the multiplicity of factors lead[ing] to the misrepresentation of conservation science in the news media?

I'll be happy to discuss my answers with you at length if you're interested. I'll post all the choices of exam questions, plus photos and more - after tomorrow. Truckin along until then.

Exams - Judgement Day no. 1

This was more difficult than boat racing. But strangely similar. Butterflies in the stomach, nervous beyond belief, cyclical feelings of panic and disbelief, followed by fatigue. That was yesterday. Then i went - after a day of reading over notes trying desperately to memorize the references i need - to exercise class, got home and ironed (yes, IRONED) my gown. I woke up this morning, and was more nervous that i would forget something like my student card or my bowtie - they're very strict with the dress requirements - than i was about the exam. It was normal England-style chaos at Exam Schools. I looked over my notes one last time, pinned a white carnation (signifying our first day of exams) on classmates, donned my gown, and walked in. The desks are in rows, simple little tables. We're sitting in a room right next to the courtyard (pics tomorrow) and i was next to the window. Alphabetical order. There's only one gigantic portrait on the wall. I'm not sure who it is, but he's wearing a long red cloak. As we took our seats, and everyone wished each other well i realized part of the point of wearing sub fusc (fancy dress). Its part of the ritual to signal to yourself, to the world what you've set out to do, and this is a significant piece in accomplishing that. When you wear your sub fusc out in town, people notice - they smile, give you a nod of encouragement, give you free beer (right? at the Turf? Friday night, here we come!). It signals to the world that something is happening today.
The exam itself. Nine questions. Nothing out of the blue. Here are the questions i answered (an hour for each, annotated with references):

1/ What are the Linnean and Wallacean shortfalls? Why are they such a problem for conservation science?
3/ How environmentally fragile are oceanic islands? Should they be a priority for conservation? (Note: this question was not on any of the study guides, but is my FAVORITE! Thanks, Rob!!!)
7/ Discuss the challenges of nature conservation in a changing world.

I can post all the questions presented in the exams this weekend.
I was pretty happy with the way it went. The islands question was a windfall, since much of the material i had prepared had to do with island ecosystems. I was way more nervous than i needed to be. Three hours went by in a flash - there was never a moment where i felt like time was dragging. My arm and shoulders got tired from writing. Like Torpids, the nervousness is a lot less now that i know what to expect, what the room looks like, and i can envision myself in there writing my answers out. And, like Torpids, this will be a significant challenge every day.

One down, two to go! Lets get out there and rock the exam schools, folks! Dreaming of friday afternoon...

BCM study tour, part 3 - OVP

The last part of the study tour involved visiting Veluwezoom National Park, and Oostvaderplasen Wildlife Refuge.

We had a lovely tour of the national park. The most exciting piece of the tour for me was the wildlife overpass. There are about 15 wildlife overpasses in Holland, and so its not as controversial even as the idea is in North America. The park was also lovely, and the landscape was quite different than the floodplain areas we had seen the day before.

Next, we traveled to Oostvaderplasen - OVP. OVP is a wildlife refuge/natural experiment. It is an area that was artificially filled in (as most of Holland was) to create habitable land. Under the astute direction of Frans Viera, there are now Konik horses, Heck cattle and Red Deer thriving in the refuge. There are also many birds. I saw: spoonbills, greylag geese, oystercatchers, avocet, great white egret. We also saw a fox wading through the reeds. It was very interesting, to see so much wildlife in such a controlled resotration environment. It seems to be working, is the other interesting piece. There are many species there now that had been extirpated, and the vegetation community is theorized to change into forest. Unfortunately, my camera broke so there are no pictures of OVP.

It was a fascinating trip, overall. We were presented head on with this question: what are we preserving? How should we go about it? Holland has a national restoration/natural areas protection plan that is so far ahead of what the US has done. There is nation-wide coordination and planning. There is effective implementation. In many ways, Holland's strategy can serve as a guidline for conservation planning in other developed countries.

BCM study tour, part 2

The first full day in Holland we spent at Millingerwaard. This is a nature reserve near Nijmegen, centered around...you guessed it: rivers! Its a government/NGO arrangement, and the managers have succeeded in introducing large herbivores (mainly Konik horses) into the area. The office for the reserve is an ingenious design: organic-green-healthy restaurant/visitor center/butcher/deli. There are several ideas in the reserve: one is to sell bricks made from mud that is dredged out of the areas that are being reclaimed. Brick-making, in fact, is one of Holland's traditional crafts and exports, so this practice also fosters small community sustainability. Second, since there are no top predators in the food chain, the reserve has an excess of horse and cattle. The animals that die naturally they harvest and sell the meat. The visitor center is really nicely designed, and thoughtful, with wonderful ideas about sustainable business built in. We were received warmly there, on a cold morning with coffee and biscuits and a presentation by reserve managers. We took a walk around the reserve and saw the herbivores and the dikes that had been allowed to flood over. At the end of the day, several of us stayed behind to see if we could find the beavers that we'd been told were re-introduced to the wetlands. As we were walking back into the reserve, binoculars in hand, Nick called us over and Paul set his spotting scope trained to...a BEAVER! It was extremely exciting for everyone, especially the europeans and the brits in the group who had never seen a beaver (and especially not in Europe).

We kept walking and listening to the cacophony of birds: lapwing, robin, chaffinch, pigeon, dove, goose, stork, heron. Then, as though we had walked through the looking glass, Nick spotted the beaver again. This time, it was very close to the edge of the pond where we were standing. He motioned to quietly look, and as i walked to the water's edge, the beaver surfaced not ten feet away in the water. I didn't have my binoculars, and i didn't need them - it was that close. I could see its face, nose, whiskers, and it would sort of paddle around, then dip its nose in the water, preening-style. I could also see the tail (Martha! THE TAIL!) and even though the beaver didn't slam it on the water as Martha always dreamed of, it did use the tail in a fascinating way. The tail sits like a rudder in the water, 90 degrees perpendicular to the water surface. It moves the tail side to side, like a fin, and this is how the beaver swims around. Its very smooth, and skilled: where we saw all of this was in somewhat shallow water, thick with reeds and branches to navigate.

We watched the beaver until it disappeared. Unfortunately, only Nick and i were lucky enough to see it, and we were left trying to convince the others that this event had really occurred. I don't care anymore if anyone believes me - it can remain a story locked in my memory only, a moment where i was at the very edge of beaver-world. How can i translate that into language anyway?

I also saw a fox and Egyptian Geese (there are stray populations in Europe) so all in all a very good wildlife day.

BCM Study Tour, part 1

This is LONG overdue. Apologies to all. I can't promise much better in the next couple of weeks either, but i'll try.

We embarked two weeks ago on a trip around Holland. Two minibuses, 25 students, one lecturer, and an unwitting PhD student (dragged into driving the second bus). We drove, from Oxford, to Nijmegen, Holland, on Monday. It was a long day. We picked up Brit Nick at the ferry dock in Dover. White cliffs (left)! We drove through France, Belgium and Holland, and thanks to our intrepid drivers, plus a few amazing strokes of grace from Caroline, Laura, Matt and others - we made it to our small town just 3 km from the German border. It was a fun drive through the countryside, and the roads seemed just as confusing to me as in England. No one had to worry about lack of cheer (below) thanks to Antoniya.
The town we stayed in was Beek, just outside Nijmegen. It was right on a river, which i found out was a fork of the Rhine - a strange fork. This was when it was really impressed upon me that Holland IS a delta. The river splits upstream of Nijmegen, and doesn't rejoin itself - its the opposite of what we normally think of as a "fork" in the river. It was an anti-confluence. The whole country is essentially one large delta, and as the rivers get close to the ocean outlet, they split and splinter into many riverlets and streams. Thus, the flooding, the incredible feats of engineering, the fertile sedimentary soils. The Netherlands is famous for being a country almost entirely below sea level. They've engineered their way out of submersion, into what we now now as Holland. In this incredibly structured, manipulated environment was where we were to engage on a massive study tour of conservation. And it was one of the best places we could have done this, in the end. It reminded me of the predicament of New Orleans, except Holland has had extensive draining, dredging and diking for much longer. However, the problems remain that this is a place which WANTS to be underwater, and it is only through feats of human ingenuity that we've managed to make it inhabitable. Next destination: Dutch nature reserves.

Naomi n Abi Minibus style

Naomi n Abi Minibus style
Originally uploaded by myblackboxrocks.

Riding back to Oxford next to Abi and Sam. Many more posts to come about Holland...stay tuned.

Here, here, pretty bird

More pheasants: saw three male pheasants perched and preening today. Grey morning, mild temperature, slight occasional precipitation. In Christchurch Meadow - they were positioned in triangular format, at opposite corners of the meadow, each one atop the highest thing around. Were they searching for mates, forming a trifecta, or just coincidentally simultaneously ascending a summit in their corner of the world? I vote mating, since i've never seen a pheasant in the Meadows before.

Still life with woodpeckers

I'm not sure if i've just started looking, or if maybe the woodpeckers know i'm looking for them. I saw two more today, outside my window. These were not Greens, but the more common Great Spotted Woodpeckers. Still gorgeous. And either they have sensed that i WANT to see them, or its just spring and the birds are all out in full color.

And on that note, i also saw three pheasant two days ago on my way into town. My usual path into town takes me by a marshy field, where the reeds are clumpy and high enough for a respectable duck or large bird to sit in and not be seen. As i rode by on my bike, i saw a family stopped looking and pointing. This is always a good cue to stop (binoculars are another dead giveaway) and as i slowed, two pheasants flushed about 20 feet from me. Nice, because i've only ever seen male pheasant in the area. Could be a mating pair? Not seconds later, i saw another male flying out of the field on the other side of the path.

Then, as i was cycling home last night, another cue to slow down, get off the bike. A group of three people was stopped, fanned out across the path, then walking slowly. Stopped again. Repeat. As i approached this curious behavior pattern, and had to slow down anyway just to pass them, i saw what they were looking at: frogs. "We're just trying to get them off the path", they explained cheerfully. The frog hopped off into the dirt just off the path and burrowed himself under a couple of strands of grass. I watched for a few minutes, since i haven't seen any small slimy animals on the path since last autumn when the snails were out. As i watched the wrinkly frog breathing heavy after its encouther with The Path, i spotted a snail resting on a broad leaf of grass.

More signs of spring! Animals out in full fury, mating and creeping out in the bright mild day from the wet and dark depths of winter. The world transforms right in front of us, as long as we're paying attention.

Eyes wide open

Its spring. Sunny (with bouts of rain and cloud), mild temperature. Yesterday i looked up to find a Green Woodpecker cruising the tree outside my window. Then i saw a little deer, tiny new horns (must be a yearling). The days are longer, and the flowers are sprouting. Amongst the glory, there is still furious work. Writing, researching, discussing, contemplating. Ultimately this question re-surfaces again - what is conservation about? We can't prove, scientifically, that we should or need to preserve biodiversity. We have ideas about it, but it seems like all we know is that we have economic and aesthetic/cultural arguments that are the bottom line. So - can scientists be conservationists? Can scientists still be credible, while defending conservation measures on economic or aesthetic arguments?

Back to the sun and flowers.

Evabella and Kellia Perkins

kissing

proud

Been a long time

Welcome to this post - last month in review.

End of term - visit Colorado - get sick - niece born - return to UK - work on academic madness.

Visit to Colorado checklist:

• run out of time to pay for carbon offsets
• fall ill just about immediately
• watch movies with Evabella
• bear witness to the birth of Kellia
• ski once
• visit an eighth of the people i intend to; those i did visit for an eighth the frequency intended
• spend ridiculous amounts of money on things i sort of need
• pack more heavy stuff to bring to UK
• bask in the sunshine

return to UK checklist:

• try to speak German on the plane
• try to sleep on the plane
• hope that the waitstaff at all UK establishments have been faking this whole time and really DO want to take my order
• sleep for days
• try to reorient self to local time zone
• smell the flowers
• watch The Boat Race, scare locals because of loud cheering
• slowly realize that time seems to be speeding up, large scary assignment deadline looms
• attempt to organize self; give up and go have coffee

Photo illustration to come soon. Again - my apologies to all of you i didn't get to spend (more) time with in Colorado. I hope posting will become more regular again on this site now that i'm sort of functional again.

The mighty second eight after the bump on friday

Bow four rowing for our lives on thursday.

Celebrating after Torpids. Left to right: Steph (cox), Kristin (2), Sarah (4)

The boathouses are packed! Saturday before the Mens first division race.

No less Mighty without blades

It was glorious, but not as glorious as we'd hoped. We didn't bump on Saturday. Which means we didn't get "blades" - awarded to boats who bump all four days. We were SO close. BUT, we rowed like never before. We rowed long and strong, we rowed past where we thought we could row, we were gaining on the boats in front of us the whole time. The three boats consecutively ahead of us bumped out, and we were gaining on a boat four places ahead of us! Its amazing that afterward, we were wishing for the race to be longer (!) because we would have caught them (Lincoln). We rowed our hearts out, and we didn't get bumped, so due to our performance over the four days we moved three places up in the division. And, we are the highest rated 2nd VIII on the river. Most colleges have two womens and two mens boats, so its not even as though we stack the odds in our favor - this would only be the case if we had four women's eights. So, we did well for the boat club, and we rowed well. The Mighty 2nd VIII proved itself this week.

Congrats to our 1st VIII who won blades, second year in a row. This, combined with the 2nd VIII achievements speak really well for the boat club, who before last year hadn't won blades in over 20 years! So, we tried our best, we had a good season, and we had fun (especially when the race was over)! Bring on summer eights - the next race.

Friday's Bump

Coming up to bump Corpus Christi on Day 3.

Our boat pushing to donny bridge. Feel the pain! Love the pain!

The Mighty Second VIII screaming past donny bridge and St Anthony's. Raaah! (I'm the last one, at bow)

Boating chaos. Crews rowing to race, rowing home after racing.

Clear river Thames

Ellie, Sarah, and Steph pre-race. Notice the warmer weather...Beast it!

Hail Mary

Day 3. WE BUMPED! This means one more bump tomorrow, and we get "blades" (code for really cool trophy).

We pushed our boat, the Mary Bennett, halfway down the river to bump Corpus Christi. Wow! It was insane. Pain pain pain. I was feeling a bit sluggish before the race. But i managed to be energized and give it some real power in the water.

There was no snow today (hooray) but it was quite cold anyway. However, the sun does help, and there was no wind. So, nice weather, but not feeling too sure about what would happen. I went in thinking, "this will hurt" and just went for it. There were a couple of strokes where i didn't feel like i could move. But i just focused, stared at Kristin's neck, and pushed. Steph (our cox) was screaming, and i took that sound of her voice and tried to stick it in my feet, through my back. Drive! Push! Lengthen! Now! And somehow, it worked. I thought i might choke, and again i had this searing pain in my chest like my lungs would explode. About that time, we came around the bend and my friends Nick and Wei were on the bank - i heard them yelling for us, and i grimaced as i tried to smile. At the same time we rowed into sight of St Hilda's boathouse, and the yells coming from the bank were great - i honestly think the cheers help to get some power out of nowhere, when you think there's none left. Thank you, everyone for coming out to support us! And, here's trying for blades tomorrow. Saying my hail Marys tonight.

Weather cleared for the races. Womens 1st Division, queueing to start.

Hear the Mighty Second Eight roar!

Kristin and Sarah at St Hildas Boathouse

Longbridges Raft, 20 mins until race time

Torpids Day 2

We bumped again! Hooray! (Remember, that's a good thing.) Still didn't get the boat in front of us though. St Anthony's: we will get you. Oh, and sorry about whacking into your cox yesterday.

Today was different, better. We had a longer race, a longer chase, but we weren't so panicky right at first. So we didn't sprint quite so hard the first bit of the race, since we knew early on that we would be rowing for a while. After knowing what i was going to feel like from yesterday, i somehow descended into my body and was able to stay present the whole time - i actually remember the whole race. I was more alert - i actually heard the calls from coach and cox, instead of just feeling senseless and in pain. There was still pain, but it was somehow understood that it would be there, and so we (me and the pain) could both exist there in that moment. There was still the searing pain in the lungs, but this time i didn't feel like i was going to bonk completely. I felt like i could keep pushing through the tough part, through the pain, and put some power in and row well. I got a second wind, after i was feeling sort of weak and tired, and we powered into the chase. This concept of time is really strange when racing. It feels like two minutes must have taken about twenty minutes. Its incredible - when i stand and watch from the bank, it goes pretty fast and the people in the boat look knackered, like they're working hard, but its hard to remember that i was in another time-zone when i was there on the river in their place. Racing time versus spectator time.

Also, we amazingly missed the SNOW again! It was partly cloudy all day, and then an hour before our race time it started snowing. And it didn't stop, until 10 minutes before we put on the water! It was really miraculous, and our race was sunny and warm-ish. The photos don't do it justice, but show the snow-sun wierdness! Wow. Do it again tomorrow.

Torpids Rush

Imagine running, sprinting at top speed. Imagine that feeling, being totally out of breath and feeling like you're hyperventilating. That was the feeling today at Torpids. I looked up, and realized that we hadn't even made it to Donnington bridge - maybe 1/8th of the race course. It was like sprinting for a 100 m, and then realizing that there is still a kilometer to go. You just...can't sprint for so long. So. It was completely insane. But we bumped a boat (caught up to a boat in front of us - the whole point of the race)! It was a bit strange, since we rowed right into the stern of St Anthony's (sorry, StAntz cox - i think i really whacked you there) and i thought we'd bumped them. But our cox gave the call to keep rowing at race pace, so we did, and it turned out that St Ants had already bumped out. So we got Wolfson/Lincoln - who did we get? Anyway, we did what we set out to do. And it felt damn good - to make it through the first day of Torpids. I thought my chest might explode. And then after we bumped and settled, it was such adrenaline rush i was shaking and then hyper for about an hour.

If you have no idea what i'm talking about - its the rules of bumps racing and its a strange and funny beast - where you're trying to overtake another boat in front of you - called "bumping". There are several ways this can be achieved, one of which is actually making physical contact with a boat - bumping into them.

Stay tuned. Next race tomorrow.