South Mountain Bike Ride

Find a Mountain. Climb it. Since my road bike travels with me, I let her out to play sometimes too.

The first climb up summit road offered views of a sun setting over the greater Phoenix metro area. Flashbacks of a hike up Mt. Olympus in Megan's Salt Lake City backyard to see a similar sun over another metropolis hiding between mountain ranges.

Adam and his dad accompanied me on the second climb. Gus, Adam's brother-in-law, graciously lent them the gear he had, two mountain bikes, one of which was single-speed. Perhaps he just wanted to give me a little ego-boost. Thanks Gus, can't help but smile when I pedal past a boy!


View South Mountain Ride, Pheonix AZ in a larger map

5 Ways to Survive a Beautiful Day Indoors

Deep woods, 2 feet of glistening snow and blue-bird skies glare at me through the windows of my current "office." Here at Adam's dad's house, floor to ceiling glass windows make up more of the wall space than actual walls. Sun rays flood the table I sit in front of, still wearing my pajamas at 4 p.m. If you know anything about me, you may think I've already gone made.

Here's 5 ways on how I'm dealing with suppressing my dominant "play" gene to get work done and surviving this beautiful day sitting inside.

1. Keep A Consistently Filled Mug. This doesn't mean a day full of coffee. Mix it up. Start with coffee, of course, but try different teas or even an Emergen-C in hot water for a fruity energy boost.

2. Do a handstand. Yes, thats right, put your hands on the ground in front of a wall and kick your feet in the air above you. The increased blood flow to your head will revive you in the way a nice stroll in the untouchable outside paradise would. Try doing one every few hours.

3. Make a Gourmet Lunch. Nothing too heavy or filling, but something that takes time and care to prepare. Don't devour it in minutes after putting in all the effort. Enjoy each calorie for what its worth, not attempting to work and eat at the same time.

4. Keep the Jammin' Tunes Flowing. Turn your work space into a personal dance party. Move your body to the music, even singing loudly when your skills as a back-up vocalist are clearly needed.

5. Plan Tomorrow's Outdoor Adventures. Don't spend every beautiful day indoors, that would just be disrespectful to the natural world and immensly unhealthy for the mind and body. Do this early in the day so it drives you to get more done while forced to stay indoors. Tomorrow will be that much sweeter!

Know any other good ideas? I'd love to hear!

A Process to Travel

In one of the rooms in my mind I have a large map. On it, the world's countries are each brightly colored and separated by a thin border line. Roads, rivers, mountain ranges and other geographic features transect these blocks of colors, connecting the oceans and continents over vast areas.

On this map I can draw lines between the places I have visited over the 26 years of my life. If these lines were drawn over a period of say 13 minutes, 30 seconds for each year, the last few minutes would be the most exciting. Suddenly the lines connecting the dots would fire across the map, from Montana to Montreal, from Beijing to Denver, from Lima to Miami and plenty more in between. In fact, the past week would only be a blur. Strangely enough, that is how it felt actually living it as well.

I took for granted the ease at which I could get to my car in Montana from Denver. After researching possible routes with travelers heading in that direction, I found that my time was a whole lot more valuable devoted to other things. This path required me to throw myself to the wind, essentially, taking rides when they came and waiting patiently when they were no where in sight. Not worth the time and energy for a few saved dollars.

So I opted for a tour of the west's major airports, an apt description of my flight itinerary. Denver to LAX to Salt Lake and finally to Missoula. This method of travel only requires that I remember to remove my knife from my purse, bring a good book and be prepared to run between distant terminals. The first of which I failed to do.

It was late and 20 degrees colder, but I was in Missoula. I pass a whole day running errands and catching up with friends when I find myself back in the familiar seat of my Forester for the return trip to Denver. Behind this wheel, ipod playing familiar tunes, foot on the gas, I feel more at home than anywhere in the world. For 14 hours, I just hang out at home. Scenes of highway travel drift by my windows. I am warm, the climate is pleasant and my mind spins with the excitement of being on another journey.

I spend at least 10-14 days a year unpacking and packing my belongings. The following day in Denver was one of these days. Each time I exchange t-shirts I've used for the past few weeks or months for new ones I have not seen since last season. Bins are emptied and filled again, each time a bit more organized than the last and, ideally, with a bit less stuff. Still, it seems a luxury when I do not have to fit it all in a Watershed Dry Bag and back pack. This time, I can take 2 Rubbermaid bins of clothes! Exciting!

While this day is spent mostly at my late grandmother's house, I still feel as though I am traveling. Really, it is only a brief lull in the forward progression, as I am back on the road less than 24 hours later for another long, 13 hour drive to Flagstaff, Arizona.


While each long drive I take-on provides new discoveries, this day's trip was especially exciting. The landscapes morphed from mountainous vistas to broad desert scenes the further south I moved. New Mexico and Arizona are new states for me, both showing me a new view of my home country unique to the southwest. Mile markers pass by and my imagination spirals into days of hiking through canyons.

I arrive exhausted, a sort of sitting-exhaustion. However, it is behind the wheel that I am sometimes able to clear my mind the most. Practicing yoga has infiltrated this time, giving me hours upon hours of meditation and introspection, often clarifying many of the current issues and problems I seek to resolve. I arrive full of drive, motivation and enthusiasm for the next great adventure.

How Far Does Your Spirit Reach?

Perhaps millions of other smiles were generated from the glowing one you see in the photo above. Kind gestures, words or postcards spread for miles around her, inspiring most to continue spreading their own light. Most days she sat in her home, 1312 Oneida St, where the walls knew the same stories that danced in her memory, the same people that filled her heart. The steps out front reminded her of the grandchildren in the lawn and welcomed daily visitors, the friends who had been touched by her love over the past 96 years. The basement echoed shouts of children. The living room sang of joyous conversation. The bedroom spoke of the peace in her dreams.

My arrival to this home was unlike any previous visit. The three flurried days of travel, layovers and plane rides exhausted my body and mind. Suddenly back in western culture with absolutely no transition from my position as an international teacher and kayak instructor in Peru left me confused and deflated. Yet I walked through that front door, propped open by the ancient stuffed turkey, and my soul was waiting.

Gently, I took her left hand, the one that hadn't been paralyzed by the stroke 4 days early. I spoke to her. With each word I felt more at peace, more comforted, more at home. I was there, with her. She squeezed my hand and lifted her heavy eyelids. She knew I was there. Her eyes closed and her hand relaxed, leaving her lungs to maintain the slow rise and fall of her chest.

Her agitated movements slowly faded. Her blood pumped slower through her veins, but kept her skin warm to our touch. Her breaths grew further apart until the last one hung in the air with nothing to follow. y la Alma se fue.

What was most amazing to me was the blurring of this line. We assign death a moment, a time, a definition. Yet, I'm not sure when my grandmother transitioned into the next life, and I sat next to her to entire time. Was it when her heart stopped? Her Lungs? Did she begin the transition earlier, remaining peaceful and motionless because her being slowly melted into the divine spirit that encompasses us all?

From this experience, I am inspired. I feel grateful to be spending the next week working hereat 1312 Oneida St. My grandma has not left me, in fact, she has filled me in a new way that her physical body could not have done. I carry her generous, kind, caring, loving, beautiful spirit with me always now.

Thank you grandma, I love you.

Mi Alma

Culture shock with my own culture. Added to the shock of actually being back in the US a whole month earlier than expected. Just using my cell phone brings a slightly bitter taste to my mouth, or perhaps that is just the airport coffee I’m sipping while writing. I receive welcome home messages from collection agencies, not even sure if I still have a job after leaving so abruptly. Thus a list of tasks begins, starting with clear up that whole 2005 tax return thing that the IRS just can’t seem to get. Next is figure out how much that crown is going to set me back.

Yet I don’t regret leaving paradise early. The moment actually couldn’t have been much closer to crossing over the paradise threshold in foreign travel. I’m excited to see my grandma, spend as much time with her as I can. I have stories to tell as I hold her hand, sitting with my mom and aunt for as long as we can. Inevitable difficulty and pain come along with this excitement.

Sometimes the lemons are just too sour for lemonade and you just have to start over with a new batch.

WCKA in Peru: Santa Teresa

View of Cusco, Peru from mountainside

All fourteen of us throw our two heavy bags on the roof of a van we expect to sit in for the next four hours. In my experiences in South America this type of temporal information; hours of travel, meeting times, length of a river run; can almost never be trusted. After seven hours sitting on the hard, flat-backed seats, my body swaying back and forth as the van followed the curve of the steep mountainside, I wished I had remembered this and brought a pillow for my numb butt. The first two hours we were all smiles, taking in the sharp peaks around every bend. Then night fell and we were left with the fantasy of the valleys, rivers and ranges we knew surrounded us.

Home for a month, great view off front porch

Great neighbors

With our hunger and discomfort at unimaginable peaks, we pull into our camp in Santa Teresa. We gathered on the patio, under the thatched-roof, taking in what little we could see of this place we would live for the next 3 weeks. With the light of the morning we saw that Cusco’s high-altitude, dry climate couldn’t be farther away. Tall trees forming the canopy above created a patchwork of shade for the undergrowth filled with palm trees, coffee plants and other sub-tropical species. It felt familiar. It felt like my time in Ecuador. Fresh avocados, eggs, bread and oatmeal for breakfast filled our bellies, preparing us for our first day of classes in Peru.

Dining Hall/Class Room/Evening Hang-out

What happens when students "bathe" in the river

Yet something is off. Our world is imbalanced and we are restless. Nine of the world’s top junior paddlers and four of the sport’s most obsessed athletes hold their breath. Although we have successful made the journey through airports, past customs and over the second largest mountain range in the world our boats have not. Each day our program director and Spanish teacher jumped to appease the demands of the system with seemingly meaningless tasks; notarizing letters, switching names on paperwork and photocopying passports. Each day hopes were high and still the kayaks waited in Lima, not even released into the country.

Following along the impromptu and creative nature of World Class, teachers immediately sought out other activities to relieve the group’s escalating energy levels.

Muscles put to work

We hauled dirt. Not the most exciting afternoon on our list, but one key in the development of our relationship with our host, Gian Marco, and our program’s commitment to service. Its amazing what can be accomplished in 2 hours with 14 strong workers. We practically built a road.

Zipping over The Sacsara drainage, high above the canopy

We went flying. Our location not only provided us with three filling meals a day and a quiet place to live and study, but also the opportunity try out the area’s only zip-line canopy tour. As if playing a connect-the-dots game with the surrounding mountain tops, Gian Marco has strung up six lines so that tourists can truly feel the vastness of jungle below and mountains above.

We took baths. Only five kilometers from our camp, on the other side of the small town of Santa Teresa, pools of warm water from natural hot springs beckon weary travelers. Or frustrated kayakers in our case. It felt like summertime back at the Brookfield pool in Greenville, SC; kids flipping off the side of the pool, wrestling each other underwater and the general horseplay that accompanies youth and water.

We went dancing. Our tall, large american boy students eventually blended themselves into the group of locals in Santa Teresa's local discoteca. Perhaps it was the example set by some of their teachers, some of the first to hit the floor.

Finally boats arrived, not ours, however, but boats nonetheless. As the situation escalated and more days passed without the exploration of the local rivers we were forced to take action and rent six kayaks. For the next week we alternated days and began to remember our true purpose and identity.

Walking to the put-in for the Canyon stretch of the Urubamba...finally!

Andean Return

The streets of Cusco smell familiar, an indescribable feeling. I had forgotten about my connections to this part of the world and am excited to be experiencing them again. And being able to speak the language is huge. I almost forgot how convenient that makes traveling. This trip however will be an exploration of the river valleys here in the andean mountains, a different and beautiful view I'm sure. Its only going to get better...

You head east...

Your Route:

From Montana head east. Through some Dakota and a bit of lake country, turn north into Canada. Don't stop until the farmlands around you look like they are hiding something. A big and powerful river charges through them, breaking the quiet, quaint nature of the surrounding countryside.


Continue east to a river, flat and wide, that flows through a major city, stopping only to create a Big Joe, the biggest wave you have ever surfed. You can't help but hoop-and-holler as the wave throws your boat around.


A student has his boat stolen from the KOA and your stomache turns, imagining how your salary can't support the loss of such a valuable and necessary item to your lifestyle.

Now you turn south. To break up your drive, as Washington DC is no where near Montreal, you are given the red carpet treatment. Or in your case, the steak-dinner-birthday-cake treatment. Between the generous parents of a student and the Harrison's ability to fill the belly and the heart so fully, you and your students are refreshed and gracious at the opportunity to feel a little piece of home. Even if it isn't yours.

Next you find yourself navigating the metro system, Smithsonian circuit and busy city streets of your nation's capital. But don't worry, you have a plan. You know exactly what you are going see and do and where you are going to take your high school students. No problem. Just another day. During free time you and your only female student decided to go shopping as an act of defiance against the boy's locker room you have been living in for the past month.


The past few weeks you might have been immersed in a French speaking culture, fed delicious gourmet meals and paddled some of the world legendary playboating spots, but all you've been able to think about is the Youghiogheny. The weekend in DC couldn't go any slower as you look toward the upcoming week on your favorite river. The people, the towns and the water beckon you, and finally you respond.

The next week you navigate the familiar boofs and drops on the Upper Youghiogheny with both students and long-time friends. You even get the opportunity to show your female student what it is like to paddle with the girls on the Lower Youghiogheny. Both Tuesday and Thursday night you rejuvenate with the world's best yoga class and even find time to throw yourself a birthday party at the pub. The week is complete and you are satisfied beyond words.

Next stop: West Virginia...

Back to Writing...

Capo dropping into Habitat 67 wave, Montreal, Canada

I must think at least 3 or 4 times a week about how I would just love there to be an extra hour in every day, a writing hour. I would cozy up in my tent, take out my journal or computer and let the dam break. All the revelations about human interactions and travel, stories of perfect days on the river and musings about future schemes and plans would all make their way onto paper, and eventually to this little webpage.

However, sometime we have to put certain parts of our lives on hold. For now, that is writing. I hope this hold will lift as soon as this quarter is over...only another couple weeks. The students will be dropped off at the Nashville airport to head home for a long, relaxing fall break. I will begin 10 days of relaxing, spending time with family and Adam, and reveling in the beauty of the southeastern US (you all must know by now that fall is my favorite color).

The days off will also allow me to renew the habit of writing. Perhaps I can finally tell the stories of my last days in China this summer and the epic river adventures we had. Perhaps I can describe what it is like to drive for 3 days straight to Canada with a group of high school students. Perhaps you will vicariously surf the biggest waves you've ever seen after reading about the Lachine rapids outside of Montreal. And perhaps you will understand how much it meant to me to be able to spend several days with my Ohiopyle family over the past week. Once I'm reaquainted with my love of words, I will be able to keep up with our adventures in Peru, the 2nd quarter destination for World Class.

Fast Transition and Lingering Memories Pushed Aside

What just happened?

Where are all the bicycles on the roads?

How much does a bag of peanuts cost?

Why are people staying in their own lanes when then can easily pass on the left here?

How many types of microbrew do you have on tap?

Mostly, where are all the chinese people?


I've dived into the next session head first, but what other ways are there to dive? I'm strangely enjoying the hours in front of the computer, exploring the paths my classes might take this semester. Seeing how much I am going to learn this semester about the subjects I have to teach, scanning the fastly growing bookshelf here at Crystal Springs and slowly meeting my new students. A week ago I was riding on a 25 hour sleeper bus through rural Qinghai. Wow.



Too many stories to tell, pictures to share and not enough time for them right now. Throughout this semester I'll be sure to sprinkle in the occasional Chinese Epic from my summer.

Bike Relief

Relief!

!

For only 40 kwai (roughly $7) for the whole day these beautiful bikes were ours. With only one flat early on in the day (easily repaired as half of the population rides on two-wheeled vehicles) we headed for the mountains.



No surprise coming from either of us that even though we havn’t been on bikes in months we decided to go climb the biggest mountain we can see. Hard, but felt so good.

Riding up the west mountains through a park called Xishan we finally felt some serious adrenaline. Honestly, riding around through traffic in the city is a big enough adrenalin rush. Chinese tourists walked along the road as we huffed and puffed our way to the top, most of them with looks of surprise and shock, followed by a smile and a shout.




The top of the mountain had a chairlift to temples further up. Reminded both of us of skiing in the states, but was a beautiful way to see the city on the other side of the lake at the bottom of the mountain.



But the best part of the day was the 5 minutes it took to get down the mountain. Flying around curves, impressing the locals and passing cars! I love going fast.

Unexpected Urban Adventures

The world teaches me the same lesson every day. Always a different scenario, yet always the same bottom line…never trust your plans. Never rest assured on an event that has not yet taken place. The world is keen, however, to not let this concept morph into a lifestyle void of planning. It’s the balance between these two ideas will continue to challenge me.

Packing for a river trip can yank one from the smokey-loud-busy-crowded-sweaty cloud that is city life to get a glimpse of the horizon. Since traveling with an 8ft bag on planes, buses and taxis is one of the most annoying activities a person can undertake, we opt to ship our kayaks and gear on a train. We’ll pick them up when we arrive several days later. The rest of the trip gear will also travel by train, but luckily we don’t have to deal with it this time.

Just as we are tying up random lose ends our last few days in Kunming I come down with the standard stomach bug that prevents any vertical activities, unless it is walking to the bathroom. Yet it is perfect timing because I’m not on a train. Adam leaves for Vietnam to renew his multi-entry visa. There goes my soup-cracker-water provider. Oh well.

Enter world: “Ha! Made ya think you were traveling soon. Well think again”

Adam returns, unable to leave China due to a mistake in Visa technicalities. Long story short we remain in Kunming for nearly 10 more days as he pleads officials, weasles out of large fines and arranges travel to Hong Kong. Suddenly kayaking is pushed further over the horizon line and we are left to amuse ourselves for another week in the city.

Ok, breathe, relax, this isn’t so bad I remind myself. The rivers aren’t going anywhere.

I’ve said that too much this year unfortunately.

So we make a point to eat different and amazingly delicious (and cheap) food every night. Even the Indian restaurant provides one of the best Mutton dishes I've ever had. Not to mention dumplings every morning for breakfast.

photo by Adam Elliot

We share a bottle of wine and walk through Green Lakes Park several evenings after dinner. Groups of musicians and singers come together to play into the night. Women practice dancing routines to song after song after song. Just behind them children rollerblade around miniature cones, each with more padding than I have ever seen on one person. Thier coaches, not wearing any safety gear, organize races and courses for them to test their maneuvering skills. All of the city seems to be in the streets and parks at night. With so much to do, I would be too.

I leave you with one of the many funny translations here. Menus are sometimes hilarious. This one, on one of the biggest banks, was surprising. Could they not find one native english speaker to translate this?

What have you done for a river lately?

Workin' hard to get people all over the world on the river. These guys are true enthusiasts.

Check out what China Daily has to say about them...

Rafting into a Niche Market by By Erik Nilsson and Chen Xiaorong (China Daily)

Citylife: Beijing part II

It is hot here. Hot like the southeast in the middle of the summer where even if you are lucky to escape the sun’s powerful rays, the air temp remains the same as moisture floats around every corner. Here in the great city of Beijing the smog and exhaust make this feeling even worse. Men roll their shirts up, revealing rolly-polly bellies. Women wave their fans briskly in front of their faces. But it does not stop them, people move and work and travel in this swealtering heat. Perhaps it is preferable to the other seasons, of which I have not yet experienced.

I escape the heat associated with traffic by spending time in city parks. Here I can see what the people do in their free time, one of my indicating factors of the quality of life in a place. Both here and in Kunming, groups of old men gather together with complicated wheels, thick cords and delicate kites. Using the winds, they fly their kites and smoke their cigarettes, probably grumbling about their wives, the heat or other small annoyances that strike them in their old age.

Other people sit around concrete tables playing cards or Majong, the famous tile game seen throughout China. Some sit alone, playing an instrument or crooning a traditional song. No matter the hour of the day, it never fails that the park is full of people taking part in many different activities, none of which are work related or stress inducing. Buried in a city pumping with business, commercialism and progress, it is refreshing to see people relaxing and enjoying the spaces in between.

One afternoon we swam in a community pool where my friends held a membership to maintain physical and mental stability while surrounded by the concrete and steel of a city. Small children with failing bathing suits and foam strapped to their torsos shouted and splashed. Hearing these kids speak a language as foreign as Mandarin makes my minimal comprehension completely void. How can anyone distinguish their words? One day.

The life guard notified us upon entry that we were to purchase swim caps in order to enter the water. This made me laugh as although they were seemingly required for sanitary reasons, the caps were made from bathing suit materialand frequently failed to cover the majority of the swimmer’s heads. We, however, complied with smiles.

As we bobbed and chatted, breaking to swim a few laps, a young Chinese boy silently floated next to us. Although he couldn’t understand anything we said, he continued to follow us around the pool as if he had come there with us. He simply watched us, not attempting to communicate, not observing any norms of personal space or privacy. We were in a public pool after all.

Now the time has come to travel south to Kunming, where Last Descents’ office and gear is located. Between urban traveling, retrieving kayak from left luggage, checking overweight and oversized baggage and waiting while security double checks our bags, we cut it as close as you possibly can to catching our flight. I vow to never let it happen again. Right.

Here in Kunming we continue the preparation and work. While Adam toils away with design work and trip planning, I struggle with the lack of computer (eventually maguivering a wire job on the power source of an extra laptop I can then use) and read as much as possible. When we are at the office, I spend time down in the street, with local shop owners and friends kicking around a Jienza—a type of hackysack made of metal disks and feathers. It is a wonderful way to pass time in a foreign environment.

We plan to take a train to Qinghai in a few days, once LD’s trip gear is loaded onto a shipping train and Adam has gone down to Vietnam to renew his Visa. While meandering through a local bookstore I came across a Qinghai Province photo essay . Mountains, valleys, colors, people, festivals, monasteries, tradition and beauty filled every image. Excitement elevated off the charts.

Citylife: Beijing

Beijing, the city that goes on forever through both time and space.

The Forbidden City, not so forbidden anymore.

We file in with the hundreds of Chinese, cameras and fans in hand, to walk through the massively thick and intimidating doors to this ancient city of palaces. The square opens up, revealing large, ornate walls surrounding a largely vacant plaza. Not even the flood of bodies pouring into this space can begin to fill it.

We close our eyes, leaving the image of the plaza in our minds and imagine the sort of elaborate processions, festivals and celebrations held here when the city was still forbidden. I want to see that. The colors, the costumes, the spectacles. My eyes open to see a group of Chinese wearing the same bright yellow hat, dragging children, eating popsicles and following a tiny man with a yellow flag held high. A modern-day procession I suppose.

The enclosed city continues for what feels like forever, especially in the hot, humid air. Ancient gardens and smaller palaces dedicated to thinking or meditating surround the larger centers. Every stairway, roof corner and dividing wall display different forms of colorful expression of culture and art from centuries ago. Statues guard the entrances, mosaic pictures form the garden path, carved dragons tell a story along the stairs.

There is too much to see and not enough time to truly appreciate its importance in the history of this place. Like many overly-visited historical sites, meaning slips away with lines, tickets, gift shops, glass enclosures, restorations, bottled water and tourist maps. Now it stands as the skeleton of a once mysterious, magical and fascinating place. This being said, I can still close my eyes, knowing where I stand and imagine the spectacle around me in its true form. No book, movie or picture will ever allow me to come that close to such a distant time and place.

Aside from the Forbidden Palace, my week in Beijing was not filled with guide book driven trips. Instead, I moved through the city with Adam as he checked items off his list, ran errands and accomplished the required tasks to be able to fly south to Kunming. We traveled 2 hours to the outskirts of the city—that probably continue for another 2 hours—to visit a factory where rafts are made. These small, two-person crafts carry “adventure-seekers” down a short and controlled section of water. With no paddles and a cheap vest awkwardly filled with foam the guests hold onto the rope and splash each other on their brief descent. This is how the Chinese see rafting. Incredible. They don’t understand the exploration of natural features, the movement and control of a vessel through varying currents, the thrill of accomplishment or the peace of a vast and epically beautiful place. Hopefully Last Descents will change this.

China: 2nd Round

View from the Beijing apartment balcony

I land for the third and last time in Beijing International Airport. A pleasantly smooth journey with quick transitions in the busy cities of San Francisco and Tokyo, each leg began and ended nearly on time. The time between these transitions passed without frustrations or inconveniences, but also without the time warp associated with sleeping for 8 hours on a 10-hour plane ride. Instead I adopted every possible position a narrow airplane seat might offer for 20-30 minute periods, like Goldilocks in military barracks painfully testing each of the 100 beds for the perfect one. The eight hours of sleep lost the night prior were thus not found.
The last leg, Tokyo to Beijing, sleep continued to elude me this time due to the speed of thoughts.

I’m about to be in China again.
I have just flown to the other side of the world—with my kayak—to traipse around new places in a country I never expected to love so much.
I’m about to see Adam and other friends again.
I have almost no idea where we will be going or when.
I can’t speak Mandarin.
I can pass the time however I please because this time in China, I’m on vacation.
The next meal I eat will be with chopsticks, as well as every other meal after that for 6 weeks.
And so on…

And now I'm here!

attraction of knowledge

An decent update from my time here in China is in the works (considering computing and connecting issues are abundant in this part of the world), but just a quick note of excitement...



i was given this book by a friend over a year ago not aware of how perfect it would fit into my life only a year later.  I forget the original context of the recommendation, but Carl bestowed 1491 to me aparently with the idea that it was a book i needed to read, or should read or even would like to read.  Now, as a high school history and biology teacher who strives to present the most accurate, controversial and thought-provoking material to my students, Charles Mann's words repeatedly spark my thought processes. 

The obvious connection can be made to my American History curriculum.  Although I must follow a set curriculum, I find an explanation of the past critical to understanding the present.  Themes involving imperialist actions of different cultures, both foreign and domestic, combined with resources analysis and explanation of the former natural enviroment allow questions to be presented involving the nature of man.  World History correlates even more so by drawing conclusions regarding populations and cultures unknown to much of recent historical analysis.  The author even presents biologicla concepts as case studies.  This type of evidence demonstrates the connection of these concepts to the real world throughout time.

Can you tell I'm excited?

I hope books like this keep falling into my path.  They are often the most valuable to me at the present moment and thus more meaningful.

Can i post from China?

I'm having to circumnavigate my way to posting on Blogspot. So this is a test...

Another Countdown...

8 hours till first flight...

Denver to San Francisco.
San Francisco to Tokyo.
Tokyo to Beijing.
Beijing to...ok, havn't gotten that far yet.

2nd trip to China, but full of new destinations and experiences. It is finally hitting me. Traveling, kayaking, reading, writing, yoga, and all the awkward moments that come with being somewhere completely foreign.

Holy Cao.

Colorado and FiBark

Cottonwood Pass, heading to Crested Butte to chill-work-play with Kristi

I have to admit, this part of the adventure is just painful. Hours of organizing, packing, weighing, re-packing and never being able to shake the feeling that you are both forgetting something important and bringing something useless.

Tomorrow I fly to Beijing solo. This time I'll bring a slightly bigger boat, my Pyranha Burn, which the airline will charge me an additional arm and leg. This one weighs more so I can't pack gear into that bag, making for a larger, bulkier carry-on. I'll throw in some school books to prep for the fall semester as well as a few extra fun dresses, since this is vacation after all. Crossing fingers for under 50 lbs.

This particular packing session is also more overwhelming due to the harsh and abrupt transition leading into it. Just a few hours ago I was safety-boating for FiBark's 26 mile downriver race, as well as organizing 5 other boaters positioned throughout the course. This after 3 days of fielding WCKA questions from curious parents and excited students at a booth I had on the boat ramp for this legendary paddling event. Since my skills were needed for safety and conversation throughout the weekend I opted to just watch competitions, rather than participate. My healing shoulder and increasingly dilapidated wildwater boat also contributed to this decision. Although I think it was the beach ball-sized boulder that rolled onto my forearm, then the stern of my fiberglass boat after a practice run that sealed that deal. (No worries--only the boat broke, not my arm) Thanks to Mariah from Dawson school for the fix on that one!

Here are a few shots from the weekend...

Geoff and Peter duking it out in the head-to-head Wildwater Sprint. These guys make this incredibly challenging way to paddle downstream look too easy.

Althea, Hannah and Ben Dann enjoying sun and a great wave

Griff in the wave

A couple shots of the WCKA booth

Haley Thompson and Peter Lutter, two of the strongest Jr. paddlers I've ever seen, trying out the C2 together for the first time

Big crowds and this great event

A small world moment...

Memories of my childhood in South Carolina would not be complete without Bonnie Gerlaugh: days at the pool, playing in the creek and, of course, many sleep-overs. After moving to Pennsylvania in middle school, contact drifted away, until facebook brought us back together. Since then she has similarily come down with the travel bug and has trekked around Europe and other distant lands...not too dissimilar from my current lifestyle. Turns out, our paths were to cross, in unlikely Fairplay, CO during a congregation of couch surfers and vagabonds from everywhere.