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Traversing Tornado Alley

5/20/2016

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“So, if you get into trouble, just point right at it.  I mean, cars are meant to withstand the most force from the front, right?  120 mph. 140 mph.  It’s best to take it head on instead of broadside or from behind because it’s not built to withstand pressure from that direction.”  

At that point, Amy interrupted Dave and said, “What?!?”  ​
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Clearly, Dave had gone right back into his tornado chasing days and was excitedly telling us stories interspersed with ‘nuggets of wisdom’ since we were heading down into “Tornado Alley”.  Without seeming to hear Amy, Dave then pulled out his phone and told us a few different apps to use to track the storms as they generally move east-northeast and since the roads are gridded out north and south, you need to stay below the storms as you track them so you always have ways to escape. 

“Wait, wait.  What did you say about the direction of pointing the car?!?”
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Dave looked up at Amy and smiled a broad smile and stated, “Well, uh, I mean, that’s not going to happen but, you know, it’s good to know.”  Our collective laugh broke the tension as Amy made me and the boys (read: me, again) promise not to chase storms across the Texas-Oklahoma panhandle.  I looked directly at her and said we would not chase storms … without detaching the rig first.  Another joke but heartfelt; we were not about to hunt for tornados across the southern US plains, but we were heading directly into their breeding grounds.
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“Where are you guys?!?  It’s actually moving southeast at 30 mph about midway between Dumas and Amarillo.”  

Dave’s texts came fast and furious as we had been sending him pictures of rolling clouds and massive electrical storms and relayed the new set of National Weather Service warnings that were regularly coming in over the radio: potentially deadly storm … northeast of Amarillo … baseball-sized hail … seek immediate cover in first floor of strong multi-story structures … lethal hail … 

“Uh, we’re at the intersection of 87 and 1913, halfway between Dumas and Amarillo….”  

“Go north now.”

Based on the texts alone we would have been freaked out but we had been pacing this storm and two others just like it for the last 4 hours as we drove across northeast New Mexico and into Texas.  We saw one storm’s entire development as we spent the late afternoon watching it transform into a beast that eventually dropped ping-pong sized hail just outside of Perrytown as it went on to trigger tornado warnings in Oklahoma.  As we steadily angled south, it passed us to the north, but we were racing too fast across the Texas plains and slowly gained on another monster that dominated the entire view to the east.  That’s when the now familiar NWS radio warnings shifted away from the beast hell-bent on punishing northeast Texas and western Oklahoma and started mentioning the monster north of Amarillo, the one directly in front of us.
The boys and I decided to stop at a four-way intersection and flyover, which gave us the option to flee in any needed cardinal direction, and just wait it out.  For almost two hours we stood transfixed by a non-stop electrical show that illuminated the monster’s multi-dimensional cloud structure, arced fantastical spiderwebs across the face of the clouds, erupted violet and red hues deep in it’s various bellies and shuddered and vibrated bolts in that air-searing way that stays imprinted in your retina long after you have blinked the image away.  We eventually saw the reassuring appearance of the moon with a good chunk of the constellations and stars that make up the ‘winter hexagon’ emerge from the monster’s flank off to our west which promised a break in the weather but our gaze was still transfixed on the light show.  ​
Finally, and with Dave’s blessings via bursts of texts with attached and updated radar images, we meandered east towards the monster and Lake Meredith, our boondocking spot for the night.  For an entire afternoon and evening we had been skirting on the edge of a series of storms and luckily we were on the back edge of this one.  The back edge that saw the beauty in the monster as the sunset revealed its gorgeous tropospheric plumes above rainbows brilliant in the growling darkness churning across the earth.  Falling asleep we were fortunate to never feel its wrath. ​
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Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico

5/6/2016

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If you haven’t had the opportunity to visit the Yucatan area, I would highly recommend a visit to this beautiful peninsula within Mexico.  Not only is it a stunning beach location on what is known as the Mayan Riviera, it is also a region full of so much culture and geological wonder.  While a large number of Americans fly to Cancun and never leave their fancy resort and explore, we departed Cancun as quickly as we could and based ourselves out of a small fishing village called Puerto Morelos for the first week of our visit.  Puerto Morelos was recommended to us by friends and it was exactly what we had hoped for, muy tranquilo, more local than not, and lots of overall ambience. ​
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While the Mayan Riviera is known for its calm turquoise sea, we were reminded again that this is an El Niño year which resulted in some windy and rainy weather this spring.  Having just spent six weeks in sunny Nicaragua we welcomed the clouds and cooler weather and headed inland to explore some different cenotes (definitely read Grant’s Powerpoint on ‘Cenotes and Mayans’ to give you a better overall description of this geological phenomena).  ​
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On our first day visiting a cenote, it didn’t take long to notice the absolutely crystal clear water we were swimming in and the many scuba divers moving around underneath us exploring and then disappearing.  What we soon found out was that all of the 10,000 different cenote entrances in this region are linked underground through different waterways. And if that’s not crazy enough, the fact was that I soon signed up to go scuba diving with Grant in one.  That it had been more than twenty years since my PADI course (and the last time I had actually gone scuba diving) did not stop me from taking advantage of this amazing opportunity.  With awesome support from my husband, some quick review online of PADI rules, and very reassuring encouragement from Grant, off we went to scuba dive in the Dos Ojos Cavern and Cenote.  I am thrilled to say that it was just as amazing as I thought it would be, really just like the photos in National Geographic.  Grant and I were gliding along in the dark waters with our guide in an underwater cavern full of stalactites and stalagmites illuminated by our flashlights that were allowing us to see up to 200 feet in front uninterrupted.  This was a world of wonder that I am so very happy I was able to experience with Grant.  Luckily two days later, all four of us had an equally cool experience exploring a different cenote Rio Secreto, which was  a river running through a dry cave completely underground. Equipped with headlamps, wetsuits, and helmets, Ryan, Grant, Ethan and I forged our way through yet another spectacular geological location.
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Our amazing exploratory field trips during the day were followed by an evening of browsing the boutique shopping stalls at the town plaza, discovering a delicious restaurant, taking a salsa dance class, or listening to some live music in Puerto Morelos.  One evening we found an amazing jazz trio and our wise son Grant suggested we “get a drink and listen to some music.”  So, banana milk shakes and sweet jazz it was, and some very fond memories of our amazing week in Puerto Morelos.  
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In week number two we headed westward across the Yucatan exploring Mayan temples and visiting beautiful colonial towns and cities along the way (Grant also included a great blog on Mayan temples that is worth checking out),  Whether taking a tour of the highly renovated Mayan temple of Chichen Itza or biking around the ancient city of Coba, the grandeur, beauty, and complexity of the Mayan temples and former cities never failed to amaze me.   Similarly,  the colonial town of Valladolid, the cultural center of Merida, and the old fortress town of Campeche all offered different insight into the rich and varied history of this region.  From stories of warding off pirates at the forts of Campeche to learning about the uprisings and caste wars that existed between the Mayans and the Spanish colonists, the history is so much more complex and complicated then what I learned growing up, and, especially, what many of us know today about the country that shares our southern border.  ​
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I would be hard pressed to try to capture all of our wonderful moments of this trip into one blog so instead will give you an insight into one evening in Vallodolid…..  We finished eating our delicious dinner consisting of locally seasoned cerdo (pork) on freshly-made corn tortillas with pickled onions while looking out over the main town square.  The lights capturing the beautifully built Cathedral de San Gervasi completed in 1570 and the sounds of a band, reminding me of childhood days listening to Desi Arnez’s band featured on “I love Lucy”, radiated from the town plaza.  It was Sunday night in Valladolid, the night they close off the main street to car traffic and open it up to dancers.  On our walk home, we couldn’t help but join the slowly growing number of dancers in the streets.  While we didn’t have quite the same smooth dance moves as the Mexican couples, Ryan, Grant, Ethan and I practiced our salsa moves under the stars.  ​
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It’s moments like these that make me realize time and again how fortunate I am in life.  I have an amazing husband and two wonderful boys who all are enjoying this year of travel and the crazy cacophony of diverse experiences we are sharing together as much as I am.  We have many fantastic moments combined with some very average ones, a few scary experiences here and there, and lots of good conversation and quality time together that have given us memories that will last a life time.    ​
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A Paria River Trout

4/30/2016

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“Where did it go?”​

Searching through the ankle-deep caramel colored water of the Paria River, Grant and Ethan briefly see the trout’s dorsal fin break above the surface only to disappear in a quick flick of the tail.  “There it is!”  The boys frantically slosh across the barely submerged muddy floor, as Grant dips his hands to sweep a small section of the Paria in wide arcs.  “Nothing.”  Looking around and then looking at us, the boys are mystified that the trout as eluded them in such a shallow, open space.  As the last bit of sun blazes across the red sandstone of Lee’s Ferry at the beginning of the Grand Canyon, we turn towards our camper and thoughts of dinner.  The following morning, Amy and I paused our run at a small bridge upstream to stretch and as we looked down, we happened to see the trout half-beached on a sand bank having made only 50 more yards of its exhausted journey upstream.  

Looking down at the trout, I was struck by opposing thoughts.  It is commonly known that, with much variation, the culminating act of a trout’s life cycle is swimming upstream to spawn in the same river it hatched (after all, trout are in the same family of salmon).  In truth, though, only around 70-80% of salmon return to the stream of their birth as a certain smaller percentage wander to new and different streams.  For the various species of salmon to remain healthy and viable, there needs to be this split: the majority returning to the familiar and a smaller percentage heading off to explore different locations and colonize different streams.  This not only adds to genetic diversity with cross-breeding but also protects the species in case something catastrophic happens to the ‘mother stream’.  In this way, salmon re-colonized streams after the last major ice-age, slowly migrating back north, for example, into British Columbia and Alaska.  Likewise, though, this also protects the species from the opposite catastrophe of fruitless and errant wanderings as not every stream nor river is habitable and navigable, so it is vital for the majority of the species to return to proven breeding grounds.  Thinking of it this way, evolution found this balance as species focusing too much on either extreme probably ran into some type of ‘extinction event’ that proved to be, literally, a dead end.

In the Paria River, the trout’s instincts drove it relentlessly upstream even when it is clear that this was not a viable choice.  But this trout’s actions were vital and necessary for the species as a whole even if this individual reached one of those ‘dead ends’.  While seeing waste and necessity and the stark oppositions of death and survival, more importantly I am left with the powerful feeling of glimpsing the vibrant thriving of life.
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Memories of Nicaragua

4/25/2016

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Arriving at 3AM is perhaps not the best way to begin a home stay with a family, but greeted with smiles and yawns at Casa Susana, we grabbed our bags, walked into our host family’s house, and our trip to Nicaragua officially started.  Ryan, the boys, and I were all eager to learn Spanish and starting our trip to Nicaragua with a two week language course in San Juan Del Sur (SJDS) helped make the following nine weeks in Central America a fantastic experience for the whole family.  It was very reassuring and convenient to have four people collaborating together when trying to bargain with a taxi driver, order food, rent surfboards, pay a bill, or just simply trying to chat up with anyone interested in having a conversation with us. While we certainly made the most progress learning Spanish while taking the course, I am happy to say we continued to learn and build off of our foundation throughout the rest of our trip.  What made that possible was the the continual positive enthusiasm and energy we received from the Nicaraguans who just seemed so appreciative and happy that we were giving it a go speaking their language.  Grant and Ethan were especially willing to jump into conversations with fellow children, grandparents and anyone in between.  The warm reception from all the Nicaraguans we met as well as being willing to make mistakes (or maybe just being completely ignorant of our mistakes) helped us make continued progress and feel like we were a part of the community.  ​
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Once our Spanish classes were complete and we had explored several different surf breaks in the SJDS area (check out Ethan’s blog for a great recap and photo display of different surf locations there), we headed to the sleepy surf village of Popoyo located a few hours drive north of SJDS.  A couple of months earlier we had signed off on a two bedroom bungalow rental for a month and to be brutally truthful and honest, at the end of our fourth day, I was seriously wondering if we had mage a ginormous mistake.  While we were strategically located on Guasacaste Beach, truly one of the most beautiful and unpopulated beaches I have visited to date, we had no idea about the wind factor we would have to face on a daily basis, or better known in Spanish as el viento.  Or shall I say EL VIENTO?!!!  The day we arrived in Popoyo, the wind was howling with some serious velocity and there was no indication that it was going to let up at all.  Our goal was to make this a time dedicated to surfing, but the break located right outside of our bungalow apparently did not “work” when the wind was on, and so the next closet break was over a mile down the beach.  Did I mention that we did not have a car?   Oh, and that we also had to cross a river which at high tide was overhead?  In true form and ultimate Ryan Carey style, none of these were show stoppers, so we loaded bottles of water, SPF, camera, and batiks into a backpack, grabbed our boards, and started our daily walks to the break.   

Well, you can only imagine how easy that was when the wind was blowing gusts up to 30 miles per hour.  I promise I am not exaggerating.  Ethan and I would pair up in train style formation holding our surfboards on either side of our body while Ryan and Grant braved the wind individually in front of us.  I quickly taught Ethan the “The Ants go Marching” song so we could walk in unison on the road as the beach proved impossible to walk on due to the vast open space for the wind to become even more intense and relentless.  I am sure we looked hilarious to anyone who happened to be watching, but with not much else to do and home school work completed, we marched along the windy, dirt road determined to get to the surf.  Considering it was extremely hot in our little bungalow during the middle of the day, we really didn’t have much to lose.


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Dripping with sweat, covered with an interesting mix of sand adhered to sticky SPF, and combatting the gale force winds, I did wonder what we had gotten ourselves into and how I was personally going to survive the next three and a half weeks.  It would take us a good 45 minutes to get to the break, and then you actually have to also figure out how to surf at a new break.  Is it best to surf at high, low, incoming or outgoing tide?  When are the least amount of people on the break?  Does swell direction make a difference?  Invariably, the sun would be going down by the time we started our walk home which most likely meant we would be walking home in the complete dark….  

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But at the same time, there were some pretty amazing things happening which started to make my heart grow fond for this cozy little surf town.  With a little effort, we found a few breaks of differing sizes and strengths which allowed all of us to have a great time catching some very fun waves!  We also quickly discovered a muy tranquilo surf shack located on the small cliff above Popoyo’s main surf break which provided not only shade and protection from the wind, but cozy hammocks and the most deliciously cooling and tasty fruit shakes you could possibly imagine. The wind was a little less crazy in the evening and blowing in the right direction when we began our walk home, so we could walk along the beach and watch the sun gracefully and gradually sink into the Pacific Ocean.  Some faces became friendly and familiar to us as we got to know a local artist Julio trying to sell his crafts or Sheila and her family who helped us with our Spanish when not running their guest house and eatery.  On that note, we allowed ourselves to dine out one meal a day (the best call ever), and would enjoying stopping at a little shack/restaurant along the way home to order some fresh fish tacos or pizza.  

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While it would be dark when we left the restaurant, we would finish the rest of our walk home completely surrounded by millions of brilliant stars overhead and were also lucky enough to see several sea turtles making their way up the beach to lay eggs despite it being the low season for this process. But perhaps our all-time favorite discovery during these few weeks was the brilliant display of bioluminescence discovered during our walks home at night.  What started off as just a few glowing specks turned into tidal pools completely full of bioluminescence showing off their magnificence as soon as our feet made contact.  “We have the universe of stars both above and below us…..this is WONDERFUL!” Ethan sang out as we walked and splashed our way home through the twinkling of lights in all directions.  Popoyo slowly but surely became a piece of heaven for us, every day as magical if not better than the one before.  My original concerns were completely eradicated and Popoyo felt like home by the end of our month rental.  While we were reluctant to leave our little bungalow, especially after some amazing field trips around the area, we reassured ourselves by making reservations at another guest house located much closer to the beach break so that we could happily return to our new favorite town after our much anticipated trip to Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula. ​
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Él Estado de Tortugas en Nicaragua

2/25/2016

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The State of Turtles in Nicaragua

“Nothing is ever simple.”

We walked north along the beach conflicted about what was happening behind us, as the two men picked up the Olive Ridley sea turtle for the fourth time and carried it back up the beach, dropping it into a man-made ‘nest’ they had scooped out of the sand in an effort to induce the sea turtle to lay its eggs.  After lying prone for a few moments, the sea turtle awkwardly and slowly turned itself again toward the ocean and started crawling.  As we walked away from the scene and periodically looked over our shoulders back down the beach, we saw one of the men drop to his knees and start digging another ‘nest’.

For Nicaraguans, sea turtle eggs have traditionally been part of their diet and are also highly coveted as a good source of additional income due to the high price of turtle eggs.  While there are protected areas for sea turtles along both coasts, generally being the areas where, during certain times of the year, thousands of turtles arrive each night to lay eggs, the majority of both coasts are unmonitored and egg harvesting goes on unchecked.  Even more serious for the sea turtles population is the market and trade in sea turtle meat that still exists on the Caribbean Nicaraguan coastline.  All five types of sea turtles that are found along the Nicaraguan coast are either endangered or critically endangered, but these cultural and economic realities make the issue of protecting these species much more complex. 

On the surface, the issue is simple from the view of protecting our threatened environment and stopping practices that could cause a species’ extinction.  Our first response to seeing these two men on the beach with the turtle was to try to start a conversation in Spanish by saying, “Is she ready?”, and, politely, “Could you tell us what are you doing with the turtle?”  Neither attempt was remotely acknowledged by the men and it was clear that they were intent on doing what they set out to do without any interference.  

From our environmental outlook, it was difficult to witness and not intervene in what was unfolding on the beach, but as we stood there debating what we could do, we all started talking about why this was happening both culturally and economically.  We’ve talked with quite a few locals about the issue during our first month here and while attitudes are changing a bit towards protection, old habits and needs still take precedence.  After starting to walk in silence further up the beach, a clearly conflicted Grant commented that “nothing is ever simple”.

A few days later, though, we visited a protected wildlife reserve called Refugio de Vida Silvestre Río Escalante Chacocente (Wildlife Reserve Rio Escalante-Chacocente) further north up the coast.  When the sea turtles start coming ashore to lay eggs (the “season” runs from July-December), people from the reserve dig up most of the eggs, transport them to nesting sites and protect them until they are ready to hatch, eventually bringing the hatchlings back down to the beach for release.  As up to 20,000 turtles a month come ashore during September and October this amounts to quite a process but it was interesting to learn that members of the reserve work alongside local Nicaraguan families who are allowed to gather a set quota of eggs during the year in a way to successfully manage local needs with larger environmental goals.  Even better, the reserve is attempting to be a community cooperative and has a wonderful website that explains their goals. 

​It is true that ‘nothing is ever simple’ but working together towards a shared future is clearly the model going forward.  We can all learn and benefit from a lesson like that.   -  Ryan

Links for further reading:
http://www.chacocente-nicaragua.com/english/home.html

https://vianica.com/go/specials/4-sea_turtles_nicaragua.html
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California: A Tale of 4 Trees

11/11/2015

 
Redwood.  Sequoia.  Bristlecone Pine. Joshua
 Tall. Burly. Old. Unique.
 What do you say when you are in the presence of these trees?
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What is ‘tall’ to a Coastal Redwood?  In the mountainous reaches of southern Oregon and northern California, just in from the coastal ranges, stand some of the tallest trees on earth.  Protected from the fierce Pacific storms, graced by mountain fog, yet exposed to a higher number of days of sunlight, the Coastal Redwoods in and around Humboldt County grow to tremendous heights in these optimal conditions. ​
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What is ‘burly’ to a Sequoia?  Confined to isolated groves and one large region protected by Sequoia National Park, these only slightly shorter cousins to the Coastal Redwood are simply massive in their girth.  In fact, at over 25’ in diameter, these trees are the largest and heaviest living things on Planet Earth.
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What is ‘old’ to a Bristlecone Pine?  The aptly named ‘Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest’ is just that; a forest of trees, the oldest of which truly are ancient: 3,000 – 5,000+ years old.  Gnarled, twisted and stately in appearance, the oldest of the Ancient Bristlecone Pines live on the worst of the rocky dolomite ‘soil’.  Quite literally these trees thrive on adversity and it is, ironically, the reason that they live so long.
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What is ‘unique’ to a Joshua?  Each and every tree is incredibly unique as their branches twist and turn at impossible angles as they rise up sporadically from the Mojave Desert.  Actually, Joshua Trees are not even trees at all but a type of yucca plant that only flowers after a winter freeze and is pollinated by a single moth.
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​Four of some of the most iconic trees in the world inhabit one swath of the western United States and while their ranges do cross state lines, all four trees are found in California.  From the Redwoods in the north, the more central Sequoias, the Ancient Bristlecone Pines of the eastern White Mountains and the Joshua Trees of southern California’s Mojave Desert, it is amazing to think that over the past month we travelled down an arc that had us encounter each of these amazing plants.
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Fortunately for us, that arc also brought us within range of some dear friends and family.  Our visit to northern California enabled us to stay with John, Michelle, Dylan and Cassidy Rutledge at their beautiful home (with a crazy driveway) and enjoy family life and explorations on the amazing landscape and beaches of Marin County.  Celebrating John’s birthday on the beach at Point Reyes National Seashore was a highlight as was being joined there for the day by Megan Keiler and Tom Hudson who made the trek north from San Jose.  This westside ‘Simsbury Reunion’ made us all feel a little better about missing (again) the annual Quogue Reunion that happened a few weeks earlier.  Additionally, we were able to have a wonderful dinner with Ann, Andy and Tori Mathieson before heading southeast to Yosemite.
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As Yosemite deserves its own post, the key for now is to thank Adam, Rachael and Ben Ramsey for making the journey east from Palo Alto to see us in Yosemite.  We unfortunately missed Abby but were able to see some pictures from her riding competition that happened the same weekend.  From exploring ‘the Valley’, to scrambling up Lembert Dome on the Tioga Pass road, to a wonderful dual birthday dinner for Amy and Rachael at the Ahwanhnee Hotel, we got a much needed dose of family before racing across the Sierras on Sunday afternoon to outrun a storm that dumped 2” of rain in the Yosemite Valley and more than a foot of snow across Tioga Pass (which is now closed for the season).
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Our experiences in Yosemite, the Eastern Sierra and the deserts of California and Nevada will be documented in better detail later but this arc of travel has made all of us much more aware and thankful of those men and women whom had the tremendous foresight to work to defend, protect and preserve the groves, forests, mountains, rivers and deserts within which these special trees inhabit.  These areas are much more than these four iconic trees and yet focusing on them allowed for ecosystems to be preserved and protected.   
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This fall we have seen the expansion of the United States during the 19th century as going through a series of stages, and, unfortunately, these stages are repeated nearly everywhere in the west: exploration, exploitation, domination, and, belatedly, preservation/conservation.  While the last two terms are positive, these groups and individuals were fighting upstream against a culture and society that was decidedly moving in the opposite direction.  These people saved what they could and while the damage had been done, it wasn’t irreparable.  The struggle to conserve and preserve continues today and what we have learned above all is that we must all be stewards now and stand on their shoulders to complete and expand their life’s work. 

Oregon in October

11/4/2015

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One of the best aspects of our trip so far is the number of wonderful family and friends we have been able to see on our trip and Oregon perhaps wins the prize for most number of friends seen from the different chapters of our life.  Within the first few minutes of driving across the border from Washington we had a delicious Thai meal and very sweet reunion in Portland with friends from Malaysia (Scott and Jamie Muir) and Dubai (Matt and Karen Stevens and their two boys) all in a brief couple of hours.  
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We then drove to Bend, Oregon where we happily stayed several days with Margo MacDonald, another dear friend from camp, and enjoyed the close vicinity to Smith Rock State Park.  While we had seen some spectacular pictures of Smith Rock State Park before our visit, mountain biking around the park gave us a completely new appreciation of the terrain from a variety of different perspectives.  Ethan in particular enjoyed riding along the narrow path close to the river and if you know Ethan, you also know that when he enjoys something there are these wonderful shrieks of hooting and hollering that emanate from his body which somehow makes the whole experience that much more enjoyable.  Once we hit the back side of Smith Rock, all of us had to use every bit of our energy to bike up, (and admittedly also walk the bike up), the 1000’ of switchbacks to then see the entirety of the park from above, difficult but worth it in the end.  The next day we were back for more at Smith Rock and spent the whole day finding a variety of different ways to climb up the face of Smith Rock. Grant challenged himself with some more difficult lead climbing and Ethan really became more confident with each climb, so we maximized the day -something that seems to happen quite regularly when you spend your day with Ryan Carey - and hiked the steep path out of the park as the sun was setting, enjoying another beautiful vantage point of the park.  ​
After Bend, we spent several days in Corvallis with Shannon Finley, one of my closest childhood friends, and her beautiful family.  Our children had’t seen each other in several years and had never really gotten to know each other during our previous short visits, but you would have never known it.  Grant, Ash, Ethan and Ayla palled on up and had the best time all weekend from mountain biking at the terrain park, playing ‘Bloody Wolf’ in the dark of the night (with their parents might I add), bouncing on the trampoline, hiking, and just simply playing outside with the neighborhood kids. Delicious food, wonderful connections with Shannon and Geoff, and especially finally seeing where Shannon and Geoff live in Oregon made the weekend so very enjoyable.  ​
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Our next destination was to the southern Oregon coast, and while Crater Lake National Park wasn’t quite on the way, we still made it a priority to get there.  While it was the boys and my first trip to the park, Ryan had been there years earlier when working at Klamath Falls and had visited the park when there was over 270 inches of snow on the ground in early December.  Situated at over 7000 feet in elevation, Crater Lake is a natural snow magnet accumulating regularly more than eleven feet a year.  While the lake had not received any snow yet, the water looked spectacularly beautiful with it’s bluish green color somehow magnifying the crisp, cold fall day. It’s hard to imagine what the Klamath Native Americans must have thought when they witnessed the original volcano exploding a little over 6000 years ago, but needless to say the end results are truly a wonder to the eye today.  Grant, Ryan, and Ethan decided to end their visit to Crater Lake by biking down from the rim and I happily obliged them by driving the car in the 42 degree weather, picking them up several miles down the road slightly chilled but happy nonetheless.   ​
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Leaving Crater Lake late in the afternoon meant that we did not get to the coastline until after dark, however, we had heard some great things about the little town of Bandon and were ever hopeful to get some fresh seafood for dinner.  As luck would have it, we pulled into town at 6:56 PM and when most everything seemed to have already shut down, Ethan and I made it to the only crab shack that still had lights on by 6:58 and successfully got our order in before they closed at 7:00.  We hungrily devoured some delicious clam chowder, crab cakes and fish tacos at Tony’s Crab Shack- a cute little restaurant/shop located right by the harbor that I highly recommend to anyone visiting there.  This day could be the longest day yet of the whole trip as we still hadn’t made it to our final destination of Cape Blanco State Park, the furthest most western point of the continental USA, so we loaded back into the Bumble, started driving further south and a couple of hours later, well into the sleeping hours of the night, finally heard and saw the Cape Blanco lighthouse.  Playing in the sand, biking to the lighthouse, walking/running/biking on the beach, searching for salmon, watching the waves roll in, basking in the fall sun, and finding whales right off the coast was a magical way to end our last few days in Oregon.   I would happily come back for more when we can.   ​
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Washington: Volcanoes, Water and Salmon

10/24/2015

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The West is tied to water.  People, trees and crops across southern Washington are literally attached to the major rivers of the Columbia and the Snake that weave along the state.  Without these sources of water, the Palouse region and the neighboring scablands would be barren, regardless of the quality of the soil.  In contrast, once the Cascades are reached the open lands of central and eastern Washington are gone, steadily replaced by a thicker and thicker weaves of evergreens.  First Ponderosa Pines and then Douglass Firs and Western Hemlocks dominate the landscape and give testament to the amount of rain these areas normally receive.
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“Normally receive” definitely are the words to use, for, like the rest of the region, the Northwest is in a drought.  Wildfires, a natural part of the ecosystem in central and eastern Washington, raged more dangerously than ever this year and influenced our more southerly route passing dry lakefront campgrounds, marinas extending their docks out into half-full reservoirs and four-wheelers tearing up the dust as they raced across the dry lake bottoms.  The Northwest should be wet.  They depend on the wet and, specifically, they depend on the snow to provide a continuous melt during the summer months, but last winter was a warmer and drier winter that brought some rain but didn’t bring snow.   Mt. Rainier recorded a record low snowfall (under 300”) as its glaciers did not receive their normal snowpack padding, which in 2011 was 25 feet deep at a place called Paradise on Rainer’s southern flank.
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Camping in Mt. Rainier National Park, a short bike ride from the Grove of the Patriarchs, we drove up to Paradise to start one of our favorite hikes of the trip: the Skyline Trail.  This well-used loop trail meanders along the southern side of Mt. Rainier and is the starting point for climbing the mountain itself.  The upper reaches of the trail were largely snow-free this year and allowed us to sneak further up on another trail towards Camp Muir than would normally be possible without extra gear.  The views, dominated by the majestic Mt. Rainier and its fracturing glacier fields on one side and the continuing Cascade Range on the other, including Mt. Adams, the Goat Range, Mt. St. Helens, and the pointed Mt. Hood, were astounding.
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One striking thing that we were reminded of by looking across towards Mt. St. Helens is that the Cascade Range is a range of active volcanoes and Mt. Rainier is, potentially, the most dangerous of them all.  The reason lies with a phenomenon called a lahar.  Super-heated, volcanic debris flows that have periodically poured off the mountain when it erupts and raced down into the Puget Sound.  The model of the region in the visitor center shows their historic paths running right through present-day Tacoma and Seattle.  This may seem something to not overly worry about but when we visited our good friends from Malaysia, Vicki and Amir Salim, Vicki pointed out that lahars were one of the reasons they chose to live in Olympia, which lays outside these lahar paths.
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My cousin Mary-Kate, and her husband Phil, also live just outside these paths in Issaquah, and it was such a delight seeing her wonderful family as they brought us to their town’s salmon fish hatchery.  It was great seeing Luke and Natalie run down to the river to show the boys the salmon swimming upstream and then bring us over to the fish ladders and tanks of the hatchery.  Just two weeks earlier, Luke and Natalie’s school had their annual salmon festival at the start of the run and their infectious enthusiasm was still at a high.
 
We continued to learn a lot about salmon throughout our time in the Northwest, from Amir’s work inspecting commercial salmon boats coming back into Puget Sound, the continuing restoration of the Elwha River’s salmon runs after its two dams were removed, to our wonderful walks in and talks with Park Rangers at the Olympic National Park Headquarters and the Hoh Rainforest.  Just like wolves, salmon are the keystone species to this entire ecosystem directly feeding over 100 different animals and insects and thereby influencing and supporting this region’s amazingly rich biodiversity.  It all seemed to come full circle when Vicki joined us in a visit to Wolf Haven, a reserve south of Olympia that cared for a variety of North American wolves, and the tour discussion turned to trophic cascades, keystone species and the importance of both salmon and wolves.
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Our time in the Northwest, punctuated by visiting family and friends, taught us much about the region’s dynamic environment that shaped Native American tribes for centuries and continues to shape modern society.  It was wonderful to witness sustainability, restoration, and preservation efforts throughout the region as there seems to be an awareness of the importance of stewardship of our natural resources.  Writing this from the desert area of the Great Basin, the progression of storms in the Northwest has started its annual rain and snow with a deluge, and we hope that this starts to replenish their snowpack, refill their reservoirs and jumpstart the winter salmon runs.  Each region of our country is dominated by and proud of their own history and natural features and here in the Northwest it has and will continue to revolve around volcanoes, water and salmon
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Glacier National Park and Beyond

10/10/2015

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I can confirm that there’s no better way to visit a national park then when you go with a biologist.  And it was our luck that my second cousin Marcel not only lives in Missoula, but is a biologist, and was happy to join us on our four day trip to Glacier National Park.  While I had the opportunity to do an amazing back-country camping trip in Glacier twenty-two years earlier when I was fresh out of college, I am pleased to say that within our first few minutes in the park it seemed that little to nothing had changed and Glacier was perhaps even more beautiful and impressive in its grandeur. Marcel’s knowledge of the area combined with his enthusiasm and eagerness to share it with us made the trip nothing short of spectacular.  His keen tracking instincts and enormous telescope enabled us to see a variety of animals including mountain goats, big horn sheep, many variety of deer and birds, as well as both brown and black bears (both at a safe distance).  Whether Marcel was pointing out bear claw marks on a tree or leading extended conversations ranging from animal overpasses to Sao Paulo’s water crisis, it was an extremely informative and educational visit.  
In addition to some spectacular hikes in both the main park and Many Glaciers, our timing coincided with a lunar eclipse which we chose to watch from the highest pass in the park on the Going to the Sun Road.  We thought this was a pretty original idea heading up to 8000 feet especially with the gusty wind and cold temperatures that had set in, however, we were accompanied by many other eager celestial gazers which added to the excitement of the event.  The sheer awesomeness of our Earth never ceases to amaze me as we watched the full round moon slowly but completely blacken and then reassuringly return to its bright and healthy glow.  Our final Glacier adventure, following the suggestions of a friend, was a drive to the tiny and quirky outpost of Polebridge, population probably totaling less than 75, where we enjoyed a variety of delicious baked goods from their one and only store which also leads a double life as a delectable bakery.
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While we could have happily spent many days in Missoula, biking around the cute town, enjoying the abundant bounty from Marcel and Bethany’s garden and getting even more precious time with our dear friend Carolyn Wiley from camp who gave the boys a fantastic visit at the Missoula Insectarium where she works, we felt the need to continue on westward to ultimately try to beat the snow in our travels.  Driving parallel to Lewis and Clark’s route gave us several opportunities through Idaho and Washington to camp near and explore the same area seen by their expedition close to 160 years earlier.  It also gave us the benefit of hiking to some beautiful hot springs in Idaho which was a perfect break in the drive and a total hit and highlight for all four of us.  It was not long after our nature bath that we successfully crossed into the furthest state west we could possibly hit on this trajectory and noticed a complete and drastic change in the landscape. Leaving the green and vibrant tree-covered hills, we entered the dry rolling plains of eastern Washington known as the Scablands.  While some people might think of this area as barren, I completely enjoyed a very beautiful and hilly run one morning looking out across the land as far as the eye could see trying to take it all in.  The diversity and magnificence of our country’s geographical landscape continues to take my breath away on a daily basis and I’m so happy that we are able to really explore our beautiful homeland with our boys.  On that note, we made sure to explore a little gem in this area known as Palouse Falls, which is also known most impressively and interestingly, (as I was informed by my boys), as the highest waterfall (198 feet) ever ridden successfully by a kayaker.  No kidding, see following link for proof!  ​
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Explanation of our departure and bicycle debacle

10/6/2015

 
A few people are still curious as to what really happened to our bikes the first day of our trip, so I thought I would clear that up for anyone still wondering.  Let me backtrack a little to August to help put the story in context.  Did I mention that things were a little busy?

Our shipment from Dubai was scheduled to arrive at my parents towards the end of the summer, so Ryan and I knew we needed to head down to Connecticut right after camp finished.  In addition to collecting the gear for our cross country trip, we had to store the rest of our 61 boxes. (Yes, you read correctly, that was 61 different items shipped from Dubai.  I truly have no idea what exactly is in all these boxes and am even more positive that there is nothing we need in those boxes, but they are now nicely tucked away in my loving parents’ attic.)  We also needed to buy a generator, complete Ethan’s 1st communion with a family gathering and bonus Willie Nelson concert, and attend the fantastic wedding of Amy and Rags’ in the Berkshires.  But this was all trivial to our most important responsibility which was to connect the camper van to the fifth wheel hitch that had just been newly installed onto our brand new, (to us), F250 turbo diesel 6.7, (note the new trucker talk lingo).  Then, more importantly, we had to practice driving the colossally large Bumble/Careyvan duo before we left, and, oh, did I mention also get a license plate for the Careyvan too?
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And then there were some additional details like finishing up some interior decorating of our new “deluxe” home, which is, in reality, the first home we ever really owned (perhaps not exactly the home our parents had imagined for us twenty years ago when we got married but a start none the less!).  Then, we had to get it classroom ready, store all the new gear, clothes and food, and of course, find a way to bring our mountain bikes, a key component of how we wanted to explore the west. On that last note, we had called around to a few places trying to find a welder that could attach a hitch but no one was either free, able, or willing. We had tried to buy a bike attachment online but the order was backordered and would not be available for several weeks.   We were starting to run short of time to our planned departure date of September 1st which was  being strongly adhered to by my dear, sweet, and very determined Ryan.  And so with some dutiful Google research, Ryan bought the components necessary to attach our bikes to the Careyvan the day before our departure.  
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Bright and early the next day, Ryan attached the new bike rack and then started working on unrolling the awning with Biff.  (It got conveniently stuck open the first time we opened it.)  I followed up and started trying to fit the four bikes on the bike rack with the help of Ethan.  If you’ve ever done this before you would appreciate that it is no easy task to try to fit four different sized bikes onto a bike rack.  Ethan would lift one on, I would try the next, we would both lift another one together, we would rearrange and try again.  Good times.  Several hours later, bikes attached, awning retracted, and all systems loaded, we jumped into the Bumble/Careyvan combo to begin our first 10 hour drive to Cleveland.  We were feeling pretty good, everything seemed to look really solid, and even Biff reviewed the system and gave us the thumbs up.  Five hour later after driving through the bouncy, windy roads of Vermont into New York we made our first official gas stop.  It did not take long before we  rounded the back of the Careyvan and discovered there were no more bikes on the back of the Careyvan.  It was that quick.  Instead we found a bedraggled bike rack tilting unsteadily at a forty-five degree angle to the ground, with several of the straps missing.  Since all of our bikes had been nicely locked together, they had a quick death getting ripped off the rack in one fell swoop somewhere along the highway in VT or NY.  NY State Trooper McDaniel officially sealed the deal with a police report of our four lost bikes tragically taking place on the first day of our transcontinental homeschooling family gap year.  Knowing I would one day find this comical, I did take some pictures to remember the event…….
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