Why I'm Thankful

Apparently it's trendy to make lists of why you're thankful. I've never been one to follow trends - I'm doing this simply because for me, the biggest thing is always family and friends and this year I was not with either. But don't worry, this is not going to be a whiny, you should all feel sorry for me kind of post. Rather, I hope it will be quite the opposite.

First, let me start by saying that as the years go by and especially now that I'm not in school anymore, I'm beginning to really learn and appreciate the value of family and friends. These people have made me who I am today, they continue to support me as I move forward in my own endeavors, they let me lean on them, depend on them, call them at all hours of the day (and night), ask ridiculous favors of them and give me their love. I wouldn't be who I am or where I am without them. So naturally, it was a little difficult to spend the day without any of these people. Last year, I was lucky enough to be surrounded by a great group of friends when I was stuck in a far away city. Here is a picture from our wonderful night:

And to my family, there are not enough words to explain how important you are to me. I'm so glad we've had the opportunity to travel together and visit each other even though we live in different states (and sometimes different countries). This photo was taken during the week of my college graduation:

Today, I actually had to work. I've mentioned previously that I teach environmental education to at-risk youth from Los Angeles. I've learned more about the diversity of lifestyle and experience within our own country this summer than I have in all of my previous travels throughout the US. The group we have right now is an group of high school alumni that have made an almost annual trip up to the Mono Basin for the past 7 years. They come from very different backgrounds and have very different interests now that they're a little more grown up and some are even in college, but a trip to Mono Lake is an important way for them to stay connected to one another. Some have very close knit families, some have no families at all, but this trip and this holiday was important to each and every one of them because for these five days they are surrounded by people who love them and know them better than any other people in the world. To watch their interactions, their respect and appreciation for one another, the way they crack each other up for no apparent reason (at least it's not apparent to me), they way they look up to Santiago, my boss, is absolutely inspiring. I've only known them for two days, but they have included Michael and me in every part of their tradition and are open and honest with their feelings and thoughts about this place. Rather than feeling sorry for myself today, I felt blessed to be around such kind and caring people.

-I'm thankful for my job. I get to work outside every day with kids who's eyes are opened to a whole new world beyond the city during the time their with us.

-I'm thankful for my co-workers. We've had our ups and downs this season, but at the end of the day, they are kind men who have the best interests of our team and the kids we work with at heart. They give of themselves to provide an amazing opportunity for kids who may not have a chance to experience something like this again. And they support me as I learn and come into my own as an educator.

-I'm thankful for this wonderful place that I've gotten to call home for the past 7 months. Each cardinal direction holds a different view equally beautiful and worthy of exploration.

-I'm thankful for my friends who love me even when I go for 6 months without contacting them. They make me laugh and give depth to my existence. To quote one of my kids this summer, "You're like elevator music. You make the ride more fun."

-But most of all I'm thankful for my family. To my parents who taught me curiosity and to have a sense of adventure and who understand when that takes me to Africa or Ecuador or the middle of nowhere in Colorado. And to my sister who has taught me to use my imagination. With those three tools, what else could you possibly need? I love you guys and I'm missing you today.

Moonlit Glides and First Turns

I have a love/hate relationship with the state of California. I mean, what's to love about a state that pulls money from education programs and state park funding to pay our politicians? That pulls people out of prison rather than raise taxes to balance the budget? But how can you possibly hate a place that opens its ski hills the second week of November? That has the highest mountains and the lowest valleys in the country? My relationship with California: it's complicated.

I'll be leaving this state soon so it's nice to go out on a positive note, or should I say a snowy one? I've missed real winter for the last couple years, but growing up in Montana I developed a healthy appreciation for snow and cold weather. When our forecast began calling for feet of snow last week I got ridiculously excited. I stared out the window just waiting for the clouds to begin piling up behind the Sierras, for the sky to darken and for those first feeble little flakes to begin falling. It was hard to remember what feet of snow was like. I started making all kinds of plans for the snow - skiing, sledding, skiing and more skiing. And snow it did. Between Friday night and Sunday afternoon we logged about 9 inches here in town with between 3-5 feet falling in the mountains.

The clouds finally began to clear a bit on Sunday afternoon so my housemate Julia and I took advantage of a beautiful full moon to ski out to Panum Crater. Highway 120 had not been plowed and as soon as we skated away from the car it felt like we were the only people in the world. Snow inspires an incredible stillness. It muffles the sounds of crunching gravel, snapping branches and rustling leaves, and the quiet at Panum Crater was almost deafening.

http://www.blackcatweavery.com/LakeTahoe2007.htm

The next morning, my other housemate Morgan and I left the house early to get to Mammoth Mountain in time for an 8:30 opening. The wind must have been blowing 40 mph most of the day, but that didn't stop us from getting in some early season turns. We both just purchased telemark equipment, so I was showing Morgan how to drop her knee and ski for real! The snow (that hadn't blown away) was fluffy and beautiful and we had a great day! Even met up with friend Clif for the afternoon and challenged ourselves on some steeper slopes.

Photo courtesy of http://4-mammoth-condos.com/

These Sierras have been a truly remarkable place to call home. I know I say too often and it starts to lose its meaning, but the variety of ways to play out here (and people who want to play) continue to astound me. Many thanks to all who have made this place home for the past two summers. I'll miss you and these sentinel mountains more than I can ever express.

A compliment

"As we drove through Wyoming and Utah I thought of you, because even though it's not Colorado, for some reason you just remind me of the west :-)"

Thanks, ex-roomie!

Perspective

I have been incredibly lucky to call Lee Vining, CA home for the last 7 months. Aside from the fact that this is one of the most beautiful places in the world, I've met some remarkably wonderful, loyal, energetic and passionate people here. In ten days I'll be packing up my entire life, loading Sebastian to the gills, and heading up north to Montana for the month of December. And I know I'll start missing it here as soon as I lose sight of the lake in my rearview mirror.

I've spent a lot of time on this blog describing the places that I've seen and the adventures I've had but I have never quite been able to elucidate exactly what it is about this place that makes me feel at home. There's a particular comfort that you achieve once you reach a certain level of familiarity with any place and to me the Mono Basin has been special because that familiarity has been reached with places that are innumerable and hidden, yet easily accessible. I think just about every person here would have a different answer for the question, "Where is your favorite place in the basin?" and for all different reasons. There are so many possibilities, but unlike the unfathomable vastness of the Sierras or even Yosemite, the Mono Basin is relatively small and each place is remarkable for its own unique detail. There are grand vistas, certainly, but that comfortable familiarity comes with being able to note the minute differences in each vista, to recognize the new perspective that each angle gives, to increase the depth of your knowledge and understanding of the place.

This weekend my housemate Morgan and I made the trek up to the top of the Mono Craters, a place neither of us had been.

The Mono Craters are the youngest mountain range in North America and they run on a north-south trajectory almost into the south shore of Mono Lake. They also happen to fall in the rain shadow created by the San Joaquin gap, so the east side of the craters are covered in Jeffrey pines, the edge of the largest single stand Jeffrey pine forest in the world.

The trek to the top of the craters is a steep slog through very loose pumice sand which is quite the workout for the calves/quads/glutes/lungs, but the view from the top is absolutely worth the pain. A friend mentioned to me this summer that it is nearly impossible to see every piece of the lakeshore at any given place. Mono Lake is generally round, but has several little contours that keep parts of it hidden from most vantage points. The only place I've been that has an almost complete view is Warren Bench, though you're missing sections of the western shore that are almost immediately below you. The view from the Mono Craters is so close to complete that it makes you wish that second to last volcano hadn't erupted 1200 years ago. The only sad thing is that the lake is too big for my camera to fit in one frame. Here is the western shore.

From the top, you can see June Lake and Grant Lake Reservoir at the same time, something that I had never really thought was possible considering that they are at either end of a very narrow horseshoe loop with a mountain in between them. It also offers you a spectacular view of Pumice Flat and the Sierras. Sometimes living directly underneath these mountains, we forget how spectacular they are. This view reminded me that though the Sierras are the cause for our sun disappearing at 3:30 everyday, we are quite lucky that this is the view out our back window, not some freeway or industrial complex.

The top of the craters kind of looks like a moonscape with strangely shaped and colored rocks strewn over a surface of pumice sand. Additionally, there are large chunks of shattered obsidian lying around. It almost feels like the volcano erupted last week, not 1500 years ago. It's no wonder that the Kuzedika's chose this place as their home - the stockpile for arrowheads and spear points was inexhaustible.

I was glad to finally make it to the top of the craters. It's a great vantage point for most of the basin, and helps shed new light on the relationships between all these places I've visited countless times this summer while teaching my students the natural history of the basin. I highly recommend a trek to the top of the craters for any Monophile who is interested in a new perspective.

I'm coming to the end of my stay in the Sierra's. It's been a great run and I've enjoyed every moment of my time here. I'll be sad to leave this home place, but eager to explore and develop a new one when I move to Colorado in January.

Hiking Barefoot

Fall is quickly turning to winter here in the Mono Basin. All the aspen have lost their leaves and frost coats the grass each morning. It's getting cold at night and we've been lighting a fire in the wood stove almost every evening to keep the house cozy. I love fall, but more than fall, I love seasons. I love the change. I love the anticipation of waiting for snow on a frigid, cloudy evening and knowing that after four months of glorious skiing spring will come again.

That said, I also love being able to escape to places where I can hike year-round, regardless of the weather at home. Death Valley is one of the places. I took a long weekend last weekend and headed South to visit the lowest point in the United States, at least that's what I thought I was visiting.

It turns out that Death Valley is MUCH more than just the lowest point in the United States. It's a series of mountain ranges with seemingly desolate valleys between, hot springs, beautiful slots canyons, glowing golden sand dunes, thunderstorms, endemic species, and a huge range of diversity that is very different from what my mountain upbringing had prepared me for. The days I spent in Death Valley were refreshing, educational and definitely enjoyable. Here is a sneak peak of what I did.

The first night I arrived after dark and set up my tent without really knowing where I was. I had arrived at the parking area for the Eureka Dunes, but I had no idea where they were, how big they were, or what they looked like. When I awoke the next morning, this is the view I had out of my tent:

I spent the morning exploring the dunes - trekking up the steep ascents as waves of sand cascaded down and between my toes (I learned early on that it's actually much easier to hike barefoot) and slide/skiing down in mini avalanches. I watched little beetles paddling their way through the great sea of sand and leaving little scuttle-mark trails behind them.

I saw the individual grains dance when the wind kicked up. But above all, my favorite thing was the play of light on the ridges of the dunes. I began hiking around 8 am so the sun was still pretty low in the east and I got to see every little impression highlighted and cast in shadow as the sun moved across the sky. It was incredibly beautiful.

An interesting thing about Death Valley is that the entire northern section is connected by dirt roads. That part of the park was annexed sometime in the 1990's, so it's relatively new to the Park Service and for whatever reason, they've decided to leave the roads undeveloped. This makes for pretty slow going as many of them are deeply rutted with washboard. I spent several hours that afternoon making my way to the central part of the park and on the way stopped at Scotty's Castle and the Ubehebe Crater.

Scotty's Castle is pretty bizarre. A narrow highway winds through a desert canyon and suddenly opens onto the Scotty's Castle grounds - palm trees, a small stream and a castle that looks like it came straight off an Italian vineyard. It was built by a millionaire for his friend and Death Valley prospector Scotty Johnson in the 1930's. It's a beautiful castle but seems somehow out of place in the desolation of Death Valley.

Ubehebe Crater is equally bizarre. The road takes you right to the rim of the crater and there in front of you is a 700 foot hole, as though someone has taken a gigantic ice cream scoop out of the earth. It is vibrantly colored in orange striations and is of volcanic origin.

I spent the night at the campground in Stovepipe Wells and weathered an impressive wind/rain storm that had my tent whipping and drumming all night long.

The next morning I headed back north and into the Grapevine Mountains. I hiked up and around a large alluvial fan and into Fall Canyon, one of the most beautiful slot canyons I've seen. The path was paved with small round rocks and the walls were striated and colorful.

I was completely alone and the only sound I could hear was the occasional plane flying overhead. The difference between a Death Valley slot canyon and a slot canyon in Southern Utah is that the canyons in Death Valley are actually in mountain ranges. This means that they're really steep. In Utah the canyons are a lot more gentle so that even though you are hiking uphill, it feels relatively flat. Fall Canyon was steep and the loose gravel of the trail made for quite the calf workout. A couple miles us the canyon you run into the fall - basically a wall of smooth marble that is about 18 feet tall. I brought my climbing shoes, but did not feel comfortable climbing without a spotter; this was the end of my hike.

That evening I went to Salt Creek, a sink in Death Valley proper that is about 262 feet below sea level, only about 20 feet higher than the lowest point in the US. Salt Creek is cool because it is entirely colonized by a plant called pickleweed that has special salt and heat resistant adaptation.

Salt Creek is also home to the endemic Death Valley pupfish. It's hard to imagine anything living in the hyper-saline water of Salt Creek that recedes to almost nothing in the summertime. Nonetheless, these pupfish persist year after year in the little water available in such a harsh environment. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see any pupfish because they had all followed the water upstream to little pools that remain even in the heat of summer. I did, however, get to see Salt Creek begin it's annual rewatering. Both nights that I camped in Stovepipe Wells it rained which was enough to get Salt Creek flowing back downstream. I was there right at sunset and it was incredibly beautiful.

My last day in Death Valley I woke up to more rain. I ran up to Mosaic Canyon because I figured most other people wouldn't be hiking up a slot canyon in a rain storm and I was right! Again, I had the whole place to myself. Mosaic canyon is so named because of the interesting conglomerate that forms the western wall of the canyon. It is basically cement with chunks of marble stuck in it creating a beautiful, natural mosaic.

It was amazing in the rain because the moisture brought out even deeper colors in the rock. This canyon also had a fall - about 30 feet tall this time - but the trail bypassed it through a series of climbs and traverses on the canyon wall. It was a very satisfying hike and I think the narrows in this canyon were the best I've seen.

On the way home I made a stop at Darwin Falls, a total anomaly in the midst of the dry desert scrub and sand. Darwin Falls is set a couple miles back in Darwin Canyon and is absolutely unexpected. The hike takes you up a gravel strewn wash among mesquite trees and russian thistle, but suddenly you come around a corner and there are willows and cottonwoods. Hike a little farther and you can see ferns and other water plants growing right in the little creek. The trail winds back along a rock wall of a gorgeous little falls that empties into a small pool back in a creviced corner of the canyon. What a refreshing way to end a weekend in the desert!

Death Valley is strange. There's really no other word for it. It's not what you expect at all and ecologically speaking, it's more diverse than you can imagine. Inside the park, the elevation varies from -282 to over 11,000 feet. The country is incredibly wild and much of the park is under visited. These few days that I got to explore only whetted my appetite for many future Death Valley trips.