Creeking in California. Everyone Should Try It.

Rolling green hills scattered with round boulders.
Trees grow strong, in groups or alone, displaying their green leaves in the striking sun rays.
Purple flowers of varying color dot the view, calming the senses.
Cool morning breeze makes way for a stronger sun in the afternoon, reaching the earth without obstruction in this wide river valley.

The sun tints and warms my face, prepping it for the waking splash of the clear mountain river water.
My paddle moves my body with speed and precision over a rock and down into the rushing currents and the bottom of a drop.
A house-sized boulder creates a narrow slot for my boat to pass through.
Smooth lines layer within the rock’s mass, weathered from time’s powerful currents.
Today the water sneaks over these silent granite monsters with no protest.
It is just another day in California.

The Kaweah river has been beautiful, day after day. A student, Sebastian Scholl, took these shots of me in the Green Boat yesterday on the top slide.

Air time at the speed of light, bright sunny day, great paddling crew. Can't beat it. Well, except for maybe tomorrow.

The Very Thing I Needed

What is the best gift you have ever been given? A car? A ring? An ipod? Was it a material possession or an act, thought or service?

Last night I was given an hour and a half with Audrey, and all prior gifts seemed incomparable. First she asks the state of my physical abilities. Well. Let’s see. I kayak every day, morning workouts, run, ski, yoga, slight knee pain, perpetual soar back and generally feeling pretty good. I climbed onto her table where she proceeded to work through muscle and joint pains that were so deep I had just learned to accept them. Focusing on my back, I breathed through the delicious pain and melted even further into my own body.

I’ve never been more relaxed and completely pain free. This might have to happen more often. After all, my body is my tool and you have to care for your tools if you expect them to work properly.

How to Have a Perfect Spring Break on the Teton Pass

Plan:

• Recharge and get work done in Ian’s cabin at the base of Teton Pass.
  
• Make a fire, read some books, plan some lessons, start a new knitting project.
  
• Escape once or twice to the slopes on my board, but mostly just relax.

Reality:

• Tour of Jackson, Wilson and Victor.
• Meet about 50 new, cool people.
  
• Dance for hours to Fishbone at the Notty Pine in ID.
  
• Get surprised by a visit from best friend, Megan who brings me skiis to use.
  
• Ski for the first time (in many years) and fall in love with this new source of adrenaline (sorry snowboard, maybe later).
  
• Sauna.
  
• Cook amazing dinner.
  
• Dance more.
  
• Get hour and a half massage.
  
• Go to yoga class.
  
• And now it is St. Patrick’s Day, so who knows.

All because of my best friends.

Return to the Familiar?

Bus from the Nujiang (Salween) river to Kunming. Fly to Guanzhou. Fly to LA. Sleep in hotel 3 hours. Fly to Seattle. Fly to Spokane. Drive to Missoula. Sleep 10 hours (ahhh). Drive to Wilson. Rest 5 days and then begin again.

The days of travel back to the states weren’t really days so much as one long stretch of hours devoted solely to waiting, rushing, hauling, loading, explaining, sleeping, eating and driving. Distinction between day and night blurred since sleep found us when it could squeeze in a few hours of our time. Yet it all seemed to pass smoothly without any major glitches, adding to the long list of moments of complete bewilderment of how everything always works out.

Waiting for me at the LA airport were two of my favorite Aunts. Riding to the hotel in Aunt Jo’s shiny red truck, I felt like royalty. Passing my students and fellow teachers struggling to load bags and boats onto the hotel shuttle, I dined on homemade banana bars. At the hotel we shared stories, attempting to catch up from the many years since our last visit. I came to found they would embark on a new adventure, a cruise around the tip of South America in a few days. I happily carry on the Hollingsworth lust for exploration and travel, my aunts being highly practiced in this art form.

The frenzy of movement and returning students to their smiling parents ended when I sat back down in my mobile home, my Forrester. During the next seven hours en route to Wyoming I slowly felt a sense of familiarity. Hearing English speakers at the airport, seeing fast food restaurants in LA, even using a clean bathroom all still felt awkward to me. Is this where I’m from? I’m not sure. I realize that China’s reality grew on me and became my own after my seven weeks. Thus, sights are set on a return to this altered normalcy. For now however, I will belt my music, soak in the snowy mountain landscape and plot my next adventure.