Susan's Evolution

Adding up Four Months on the White Salmon River

2011-08-09T12:34:00.013-06:00

Its time for a highlights edition blog post. Not only a good way to sum up 4 months of no updates, the highlights edition blog post also brings together events and activities in a math problem sort of way.

Add up fulfilling experiences and subtract out hardships. Let's see what comes out.

+ Move to BZ Corners, on the Banks of the White Salmon River

On the whole, moving back out to the Gorge tips the scales toward awesome.

The Wet Planet Family: Weeknight Truss Run

Jeff Clewell, Brian Lee, Tyler "Fastlane" Houck, Lance Reif, Trevor Sheehan, Ryan Copenhagen, Brendan Wells, Curt Joyce, Adam Elliott, and me, Susan Hollingsworth

Living on the peaceful, riverside property of Wet Planet (also known as North Camp), at the take-out for my favorite section of the White Salmon makes coats every day with the simple bliss of fresh air and ourdoor play.

Surrounding me, all nestled into their own plot of earth at the end of a trail, are 8 of my best friends. Each contributes something different to our community: Lori motivates pre-work activities, Tyler and Drew make sure Wet Planet is well represented on the Green Truss, Nicki and Brian keep the general pace of life mellow and happy, Giani cooks better than any restraunt in the Gorge, Jeff's music collection never needs to repeat, and Cat just does a little bit of everything.

- Move out of Portland

However, temporarily abandoning Portland was not easy.

Nick builds the best kayak rack I have ever seen, right in our backyard.

The nest I've assembled (with furniture and walls, not sticks and spit) over the past 6 months has become more of a home than anything I've had for the past 5 years. Bigger than a car, more permanent than a friend's couch, 6235 N. Atlantic is my home. I may not own it, but the guy who does may be the most easy-going and enjoyable landlord humanly possible.

Luckily, I can travel the 1.5 hrs west into the hipster mecca anytime I want. Best of both worlds.

+ Teaching Kayaking and Inspiring a Whitewater Lifestyle

Try a spending a week teaching a group of cancer survivors to kayak and tell me that whitewater doesn't change lives. Just seeing Tailz (everyone gets a nickname...I'm Swish) navigate the class II rapids on the Klickitat without the benefit of vision makes me grateful for the strength, positivity, and empowerment this thing called kayaking can provide. I hope I get to be a part of First Descents Kayak Camp forever.

Two week-long instruction on the Rogue with Sundance Kayak School...new favorite teaching river.

Another instructor's dream come true took me to the Rogue River to partner with Team Sundance for an 8 day, 13 person beginner course in late June. I helped the Crawford family to let go a little bit and tackle some incredible whitewater. In return, they made sure I laughed more.

First experience with Stand Up Paddle Boarding on the Rogue, or SUPing

The second Rogue trip of the summer, a 6 day, 6 person intermediate course, fed my intelectual brain with in-depth stroke clinics and advanced boil dynamics. Each day contributed another idea toward the week's theme of "The Meaning of Life from the Eyes of a Kayaker."

A typicaly multi-day rafting/kayaking scene: costumes, good food, tasty drinks.

Hopefully our guests were as swept away by the entire experience as I was.

- Wet Feet and Butt Every Day

Whitewater rafting on the White Salmon River with Wet Planet Whitewater

However, as instruction and guiding time increases, so does the potential for foot rot and swamp ass. Unpleasant, I know, but nevertheless a reality. Finding time to air-out has becoem as important as brushing my teeth.

+ Experiencing the Removal of Condit Dam in First Person and Writing with More Purpose

I am poised on what feels like a significant moment in history.

Standing with American Whitewater's Megan Hooker in front of Condit Dam

Condit Dam, a 125 ft hydrpower project on the White Salmon River, is about to be excavated from the canyon where it has sat, blocking the flow of the river for the past 100 years. And I've got front row seats to watch the whole thing happen.

Even better, I assigned myself the job of informing everyone I can about the big deal right in their backyards. Wet Planet handed me The Eddy Line, a blog for news in and around the river, a year ago when I came to the gorge. Throughout the winter, this outlet became my own little soapbox for preserving our rivers and our ability to recreate on them. I wrote about the purpose of the Wild & Scenic Rivers Act, the breakthroughs in the saga of Condit Dam, and the best kayaking and rafting locations in the Northwest. Like candy.

A friend competes in the BZ Huckfest during this year's Riverfest

This led right into the orchestration of the White Salmon River Fest and Symposium. Kind of a big deal. This year, Heather (fellow instructor) and I picked up the task of running the whole event and went with it. Family responsibilities in Holland required Jaco, owner of Wet Planet and organizer of the event for the past 5 years, to leave the country for a few months. She was, thankfully able to help with vital contacts and ideas all the way from Europe.

Local community leaders speak about the removal of Condit Dam during the Symposium

The event was a success. Bringing people together along the White Salmon River makes me feel a greater connection to this place, as if I could even call it home.

- Kayaking Less and Living with Guns

With all this writing, guiding, and instructing, I'm actually kayaking less. Or rather, kayaking-for-fun less. Instructing is fun, writing about kayaking is great, but nothing can replace the deep satisfaction of hitting your own line.

The Subaru gets a new rear window (and will later be sold completely)

Kevin, probably the sweetest river guide alive, shot a beer can with the family bee-bee gun which then hit my rear window. Minor inconvenience to keep things in perspective.

What is the answer to the equation?

Considering the items subtracted are really only small annoyances and temporary adversities, this equation leaves me in the positive. A place I have no intention of leaving.

When Gear Works, It Makes Me Smile

2011-02-12T18:57:00.006-07:00

Looking down at your jacket, after paddling through miles and miles of rapids, and seeing small beads of water brings a smile across my face every time.

Gear drying after a run down the Urubamba, Peru

The quality of my specialized equipment and technical clothing directly corresponds with how many days I get to be outside. When my IR dry-top still repels water, even still beads up the slippery substance on the surface, you know you've made a good investment.

I'm also comforted by knowing my personal flotation device is going to work. My throw rope will deploy. My skirt will not implode. I don't waste time doubting these things. This makes a difference in the water I chose to take myself, and my equipment, down.

Copper Creek, Washington

It is also nice to see an industry begin to represent itself with a bit more creativity, a bit more personal branding.

My new Astral LE 4 jacket boasts design work by Megan Smith, a young designer who has spent the past 25 years completely entrenched in extreme sports culture. Its about time people like her are able to express their ideas and designs to the kayaking world. Maybe we will begin to see character, expression and rad designs on our formerly drab looking gear.

While the 10 years I've spent in the kayaking community may yet be a blink, the progression of the sport has been exciting to witness. Think I'll spend another 10 years here, maybe more.

Little Klickitat River, Washington

In Portland, Biking is Contagious

2011-02-01T13:00:00.003-07:00

As a Lole Blog contributor, I get share all the juicy activities and inspiring thoughts that an active and adventurous lifestyle affords.

While biking through Portland's unique neighborhoods and along the Willamette River downtown, the fresh air and crowded bike lanes inspired me to share the culture of biking with the Lole community.

Alberta Street in NE Portland, my neighborhood

Because in Portland if you don't embrace the pedal, you are just missing the main idea. Leaving the car keys at home can initially be harsh, like shedding the crutches. But once you learn to trust the efficiency, practicality and extra joy, you soon learn why the bikers are just happier people.

Take a look at the blog post for more: 5 Tips for Urban Exploration in Portland, OR

Self-Taught Continued Education and the Learning Bug

2011-01-24T10:07:00.005-07:00

There are individuals who would enter a pool in no other way than to dive, head first and with conviction. Some with knowledge of depth and others with a keen intuition and trust in skill and judgement.

Either way, these individuals do not waste time. They do not care about temperature or slimy, aquatic life lurking below. Divers just go for it.

Swim team ended over 15 years ago and I still find myself diving into deep and unfamiliar waters. There is a certain lust in the unknown, in the possibilities and opportunities of increasing one's understanding of the world and connection to place.

Swimming in the unknown waters surrounding Galapagos Islands

The lust increases and a bug attacks me, forcing me to dive. This learning bug assaults me every so often, leaving me in fits of late-night research, over-consumption of coffee and high fevers of passion and excitement.

Most recently, it has been rivers.

Ok, you're right, its always been rivers.

It began with learning to descend them safely in a kayak, moving to gaining familiarity with flows and locations and ultimately sharing this process with other newbies. Separately, I explored ecosystems, habitats and environmental services as a scientist and environmental educator.

Now these passions meet. Or perhaps they have been good friends all along, finally awakening me to their intrinsic connection.

So now I dive again, into the turbulent waters of river conservation and advocacy.

I assign myself projects: digesting complicated documents loaded with obscure verbiage, filtering through countless blog rolls for real news headlines, recording notes and thoughts for no exact purpose other than proof of accomplishment.

This all might seem pointless to you. (Or to my family who wonders if I will ever get paid for this type of dedication.)

To that, I point out that dedication to knowledge acquisition is never pointless. Especially when combined with intention to use the information for positive change. In other words, I know this information will prove useful for me. As I learn more and swim deeper into these waters, I feel the weight and pressure grow, becoming more excited by the second. Rather than gasping for air and swimming to the surface, I'm growing gills.

I think I'll be swimming down here for a while.

Condit Dam, murky waters of Northwestern Lake surging over 185 ft. dammed dam.

Interpreted, synthesized and reformatted for the ease of others' understanding:

Wild and Scenic Rivers in Oregon and Washington

River Trip Permit Window Closing

Condit Dam soon to be freed

Currently attacking:

Hydropower Reform Coalition: Citizen Toolkit for Effective Participation in Hydropower Licensing

Filling the cup, at 6 am

2011-01-18T09:26:00.007-07:00

The rain spit at my face at 5:30 am this morning. I could hear my bike wheels draw up the water and hit my fender, as my movement broke the stillness of such an early hour.

A glowing flower from Costa Rica. If a flower can glow...I can too.

Whether part of a resolution wave or just simple interest, I have enrolled in a week-long yoga intensive that gets me out of bed long before the sun. In fact, it returns me to my house before the sun's alarm clock even goes off. Almost as if my transformed mind and body gently rub the sun's back and draw him into consciousness for the day.

"Good morning sweet sun. The day has begun, you should get out of bed and bring light to all the people who have already awoken and encourage those who have not to lift up and out of their slumber. I've already gotten the wheels turning, all you have to do is rise now."

The biking element is my personal icing on the cake of breaking into a tough daily routine.

Thus, each morning this week I will suit-up in my rain gear (rapidly aging here in Portland) and pedal my way to North Portland Yoga at a silly early morning hour.

Of course, the pay-off makes all of these petty difficulties cower.

The studio's warmth first draws you in like a fresh apply pie on grandma's window sill. Then every participant welcomes you with a smile, that you naturally return. You settle into your own body and wipe away everything that could possibly put you in even the slightest bad mood. Gone.

Just you and your breath and your body and the insightful and calming words of Sweethome Teacup, my teacher.

Balance: always seeking.

Ivan Steifel in a stern squirt on the Gauley River, WV

Now, I begin my Tuesday with a cup so full, it seems that the whole day will float by without impediment. Or perhaps, I will simply deal with impediments in a different way.

Staying Accountable for Resolutions

2011-01-04T10:07:00.011-07:00

This time of renewal flashes into our lives every January.

Couch potatoes spotted purchasing yoga mats. Recycle bins more packed than the garbage. Junkies putting down the crack. Wait, I don't know what junkies do.

It's all a package deal with the strike of midnight on New Years. We are given the opportunity for change, for improving our circumstances and making life better. Despite actually possessing this ability every day of the year, something about the rolling over of a new year makes these commitments somewhat more solid.

Breaking out of old habits, like clipping the fence to jump into moving traffic.

At least until we fall back into a lazy, distant relationship with all those commitments which would have significantly made life better had we just kept with them. My estimation is February 3rdish.

But not this year, right? (It is, afterall, still only January 10th).

So how do we make ourselves accountable when the freshness of the New Year blows away and the recirculated air of our routine reemerges?

I believe we must first develop a connection, a link between each of our committments.

Just as one, oval chain link will not suffice, an entire chain becomes one unit, strong and unified.

A better diet and more exercise? Ride your bike to the local farmer's market.
More exercise and keeping in touch with old friends? Write a letter for every hour of exercise you do.
Keeping in touch with old friends and using less energy? Use regular mail instead of email.

If our resolutions depend on each other for a stronger presence, each will become easier to manifest. I see each individual goal as getting easier, the more we focus on the others. Often the first change is the most difficult to adapt, with each successive growing easier and easier. Like cookies during the holidays, each easier to consume than the last.

I think this chain idea will help me integrate more of these positive elements into my daily (post February 3rd) routine.

Don't go to the left.

Additionally, I must also give myself time. I think of it as a little present on my desk, that just pops into existence mid-work day. Under that lavishly gold sequenced bow, two whole hours to keeping my resolutions going.

I sometimes accept with the smile of a teenage boy holding his Aunt Phyllis' banana hammock birthday present. Really, I don't want this gift. Not right now at least.

Of course, to avoid family feuds over inappropriate gifts, I use the present. And, just like that boy, I learn to love it.

Just give the banana hammock a try.

Therefore, each week I will accept the gift of time to the practice of all of my new goals, at least once. Hopefully each week, this will become so second nature that the air of resolution will surround me all year long.

Ahh, the bliss of pre-February 3rd.

Joining the Wild and Scenic River System: What does that even mean?

2010-12-23T15:34:00.007-07:00

Wild & Scenic Waterfall: Big Brother on the White Salmon River, WA

I said it to my kayak instruction students and rafting clients countless times this summer.

"Oh yea, the White Salmon is a Wild & Scenic River" (confidently nodding as if it was so obvious what this means that I wouldn't even bother elaborating).

Just a few of Oregon and Washington's Wild & Scenic Rivers

When it comes down to it though, I have no idea what this means exactly.

Obviously it means that some type of imaginary conservation blanket covers the twisting river through canyons and farmland. Perhaps it prevented the construction any sort of obstruction, like a dam, along the free-flowing river. It might even mean that the river met some higher standard of water quality.

Still, too many questions remained for me to be able to truthfully make this statement to my guests.

Is the whole river protected?
What does 'wild' and 'scenic' actually mean?
What about the Condit Dam downstream?
Is some agency/organization/group actually managing this river?
Why is this river so special?

So I found out.

In the article Part I: Wild and Scenic Rivers Act in Oregon and Washington, I explain the answers to all these juicy questions.

If you have ever enjoyed the flowing water of a "Wild & Scenic River" I suggest you check it out. Educate yourself on the rivers you love and maybe one day you will be the one to stop their destruction.

Changing a River Forever: Removal of the Condit Dam in my backyard

2010-12-16T17:04:00.000-07:00

I follow the river. Not only when pushing off from shore and moving with the current, but also from home. I watch gauges and learn about tributaries. I listen for reports of new wood and alteration of rapids over the seasons.

My new home in the Columbia Gorge, from Portland to Hood River to White Salmon, brings the opportunity to learn and connect with a new set of rivers.

When I heard the plan to tear down a 200 ft dam from my new favorite river, my attention sharpened.

[Check out the article Condit Dam Removal: White Salmon soon to be freed that I wrote to learn more about what is going on with the decomission process and how boaters will be effected]

I learned that the days of the Condit Dam on the White Salmon River were numbered, soon discovering how long this process has actually taken.

Steps toward decommissioning began 14 years ago! Hoops and hurdles stood in the way as PacifiCorp, Skamania and Klickitat counties, local community associations, energy and environmental departments and many more all petitioned for their interests. Settlements were made, certifications gained and now only one last order from the Federal Energy Regulation Comission must be made before the final date is set.

And here I stand, showing up for the very last moments of the ordeal.

While I have not been a witness of the process in the past, you better believe I will be around for what happens next.

The White Salmon River valley is about to change drastically. We will witness a new riparian environment slowly rebuild. Fading through degrees of succession as plants and animals reemerge into their natural habitat. Fish will travel farther upstream now, changing the dynamic of upstream sections of river as well.

And of course, the contours of the river bed that have hidden under the lake for nearly 100 years will once again feel the flow of the river.

Makes me wonder what other projects exist throughout my region working toward similar goals and how I might be able to be a part of it all.

New Goal: 30+ Mile Wildwood Trail

2010-11-06T19:30:00.008-06:00

New city, new home, now I need a new goal. A goal that feels as foreign as living in a city does for a mountain girl.

Blissfully cramp-free running on a trail in Forest Park after work today, I decided to give more purpose to each footstep. I'm not one for tallying up the miles in my running shoes. In fact, running longer distances has always seemed silly to me, as the sport falls into my cross-training regime. I run when convenience allows, when my kayak needs rest or when my schedule puts me near a trailhead.

Setting off to loop some trails in Forest Park, just before inspiration for new goal

But its time for running to get more credit. Bending around a lush patch of ferns, bouncing over tree roots, pulling in every breath to energize my body: nothing beats that moment.

Thus the 30-mile, One-Month Wildwood Trail Challenge. Self-induced, naturally.

Forget a "marathon." I don't even want to hear that word. Crashing footsteps send imaginary shock waves through my leg joints at the mention of the word. No, my running credit will be gained from the successful completion of one, simple trail. North to south, without stopping. Thats it. Just one trail.

Now you might be confused at this point. How can I run enough miles through the woods to take on such a challenge while living in a major metropolitan city? Well, Portland is not like most large cities. Within a train or bus ride from every point in the city, I can reach the 5,000+ acres of juicy wilderness called Forest Park.

Thus it is settled. My kayaks might find a little more rest for the next month. My knitting project might last all winter. My friends might shake their heads.

For geeky analysis of each workout (both wet and dry) check this out (keyword: smhollings). My new Garmin Forerunner allows me to track mileage, elevation, heart rate, laps, course and more.

Whitewater Meets Adventure Racing: BADDLUN

2010-10-22T09:02:00.004-06:00

If you thought Class V was hard, think again. The bar has been raised.

First, try fully exhausting yourself by biking through grueling terrain, up steep and narrow trails or over mountains on back country roads.

Next, change your shoes and run through the woods like a Yankee in Deliverance for miles and miles.

Now paddle your Class V river as hard as your remaining muscle power can take you.

This is the BADDLUN, and it is going to change the face of Extreme Adventure Racing.

I know I have a new goal for 2011: Gauley, Russell Fork, Green...

Hell's Canyon and Popping Lori's Cherry

2010-10-19T23:34:00.010-06:00

Nicki, Lori and me ready for our flare-filled overnighter

The end of the summer means ants in the pants for raft guides at Wet Planet Whitewater. We've kayaked and rafted ALL summer long, hitting hard to hit runs in the spring and settling for backyard Green Truss runs into July and August. But the daily grind gets to everyone and now we want to go exploring again.

Many of us migrate back east :::sigh::: to work the Gauley or play on the Russell Fork and Green. Some chose the other direction exchanging creek boats for surfboards and taking a two month hiatus in Hawaii. Others will be in Nepal for months, opting for the abrupt environment change and increased life-lesson intake route.

But not us.

Nicki, Blee, Lori and I continued to train rafting guests for Husum Falls, answer phones and live in tents. Someone had to do it, but we needed an escape.

Hells Canyon, Snake River, Idaho...no wait....Oregon....ok, both.

Scouting the first bigger rapid from the OR side

Better than your average kayak self-support, this trip was going to be Lori's first multi-day river experience EVER, and Nicki's first one out of her kayak. Blee and I were there to see the epiphany that occurs when a kayaker realizes how easy, fun and liberating a self-support trip can be.

Blee in Wild Sheep Rapid...about to face the meat.

Waking up to the ridiculously bright headlights of multiple F3,000,000 trucks and stomping fisherman boots at the Hells Canyon Dam, we began the gear explosion that would lead to fully-packed kayaks.

Soon enough we were feeling our heavy boats pushing through currents and eddies on our way to the bigger rapids, all of which we would see in the first day. The newbies transitioned flawlessly. No worries or concerns about maneuverability with the added weight, just smiles at the thought of the experience.

Perfect lines and meaty-hole hits added to the general elation of the canyon and we settled into the peaceful pace the river sets. After 20 miles (total 35), we decided we would camp in ID, rather than the shady OR side of the river.

Unloading the Green Boat at camp, just in time to enjoy a sunset and the last bulkhead Hamms

This might be the hardest decision on a multi-day river trip. Choosing the location where elated exhaustion meets prime riverside realty.

Pine Bar campsite, ID side

Beautiful beach with grassy patches...yes please.

Lori takes a pre-rest before the real rest on the beach. Baby steps.

Warming by the moon-lit fire and passing out on a beach with the river lulling in the background. Is this a commercial for paradise?

Taking a lazy morning, despite the 15 mile agenda, is always a good idea. The coffee tastes better, the oatmeal fills the belly easier and the day just keeps getting better.

Nicki taught me how to take apart my Whisperlite and bang in on the ground to get it to work. She's a tough cookie in the kitchen.

Lori and I opted for the tarp...smaller than 2 bivy sacks. More ventilation to fresh air and plenty of coverage.

Sunday we floated. We caught eddies, rode wave trains and took it all in. Soon enough a truck appeared on the right, signaling that we had made it to our take-out. Not bad for a first taste for the girls and definitely a well-earned break from the daily grind for all of us.

Not a bad year for the Green Boat and overnighters...what next?

Swamper's Delights: First Round on the Grand Canyon with AzRA

2010-08-18T10:57:00.007-06:00

Adam guiding the paddle raft

This Grand Canyon trip really began a year and a half ago when I met Adam Mills Elliott in Lijiang, China, preparing to set out on the now-dammed Great Bend of the Yangtze. We met then, later falling in love over the seething eddylines and boils of the Salween.

Adam and I at the source of Thunder River

There he told me about the canyon in a way no one has spoke of it before to me.

Charlie soaking up a waterfall in Stone Canyon

I've heard from other kayakers about the river, the hikes, the daily life. But Adam's words spoke of details, true knowledge of a place. The kind of knowledge that develops over time spent living on the river.

And lucky me, he took me along for a couple of rides this summer.

Rinsing off the muddy Colorado in one of the many side streams

I begin by noting that the Grand Canyon is beyond the English language. That being said, I will do my best to fit in nouns, verbs and adjectives to fit the deep canyon and powerful river.

The hike down into Gallaway Canyon from Stone. Just shimmy down that crack in the Tapeats. No biggie.

Swimming in Havasu's fluorescent blue waters

Although days bleed into each other, I believe it was day 4 that I fell into complete silence drifting beneath the tiered and colorful canyon walls growing higher around me. Before this I was impressed, but for some reason something else hit me that day.

Exploring side canyons never gets old.

The highest walls stand back, solid and steep, quietly reminding the rafters of the depth at which they travel. The youngest in the canyon, these walls also must see the action of the river from the greatest distance.

My favorite picture...ever. Hiking down Havasu. Photo by Adam, of course.

Narrowing the canyon slightly, the tall faces of Redwall Limestone appear impenetrable just below. A closer inspection, however, reveals their increased susceptibility to the floating aquifers pushing through the rock layers. Deep caves speckle their aspect, eroded by water slowly dissolving the rock. We pass one such cave at river level several days earlier. Cool sand, hidden from the heat of the inner canyon, our group is hypnotized. Several hours of rest and we move on.

Redwall Canyon break

To a guest, running a commercial trip down the beyond-stimulating Colorado River appears like the coolest job in the world as well as the hardest. They might be right.

Fun group. Everyone loves life.

It is a marathon.

No, it is an ironman triathlon for the amateur adventure enthusiast, run by the professional adventure enthusiasts.

Kitchen on night 1 near Sheerwall

We eat, we pack, we paddle, we hike, we climb, we swim, we run, we eat more, we jump, we float, we unpack, we eat yet again, we sleep.

Sometimes we relax, listening to the nearest rapid crash in the darkness illuminated only by the stars filling in the night sky.

I can't wait to do it again in another 3 days.

Wildwater 2010 National Championships and Inevitable Racing Frustrations

2010-08-18T10:38:00.010-06:00

Bursting through a wave on the sprint course. Photo: Adam Elliott

Athletes often quickly fall into a whirlpool of frustration when a competition/race does not go as planned. Ideally, this stage does not last long, especially for those athletes who understand the deeper joys of the river.

When this much boat is out of the water, you know there is power behind your stroke. Photo: Chris Norbury

The amount of disappointment possible after my 3rd and final race at Wildwater National Championships this weekend could very well have been unbearable. Yet, somehow, it didn’t even make it past the finish line with me. Only now as I write do I understand why.

I had swam. Not just through the finish line of my first sprint race the day before, disqualifying me from the sprint class, but also in the middle of my longer, classic race. I swam twice. I also would have been the sprint National Champion had my head been above the water for those last three yards of the race course.

National Women's Champion Tierney O'Sullivan heading into the rapid

As for the Classic race, I felt like I had a good chance for a win. I love longer events, stretching the mental focus and attention required for competition over a longer period of time.

Yet, I’m not upset. Why would I be?

Going into the weekend, I knew that I had spent more time in my kayak over the past 3 months than any previous 3 consecutive months. Just the wrong boat.

Confessing to the other athletes, I spoke of how my creek boat had stolen my attention during the past few months, leaving little time for fun with the Wildwater kayak. I spoke of unexpected rainstorms and an abundance of eager new river friends. I even used the excuse of participating in the Eddyflower Total Vertical Challenge, a competition based on

running the steepest rivers you can find. I almost had to spend that much time in my creek boat.

The championships were also held on an infinitely clear river inside a National Park I might have otherwise never visited.

The North Cascades, in the northwest corner of Washington state, blew me away. Massive trees filled in the jagged mountain views on either side of our vehicle as we wound our way deeper into the wilderness.

Some ladies from the Women's Team giving perspective on boat length. Photo: Adam Elliott

Finally, the race brought in kayakers from all over the country.

Kayakers who revel in the meticulous break-down of the forward stroke.

Kayakers who extensively talk about each micro-wave and eddy line within a rapid.

Kayakers who like to read and run their whitewater faster than any other boater.

Tom Weir, C1 National Champion

I identify with this particular group of kayaks for their dedication to improvement of skill and development of understanding the currents we slice across.

So really, I had no grounds to allow a few silly swims to ruin my experience.

I’ll admit, the frustration visited me momentarily. I secretly hoped that my head had somehow remained above water as I crossed the finish line, pulling my skirt just after. I wondered if I had paddled hard enough after the second swim to make up for the time lost.

But I immediately knew that it is what it is. It just was not my race this year, and I’ve got all winter to look forward to the next. With all of the upsets, I still got a spot on the US National Downriver Team, allowing me to participate in coaching and training for an upcoming Worlds event.

Boo loves her boat.

I also was about to board a plane to do two consecutive trips down the Grand Canyon. Not much can spoil that feeling.

Discovery Channel and Femme 45: Why Waterfalls?

2010-07-21T16:07:00.007-06:00

Me on the first drop on the Lower Wind River

Who is Femme 45?

Discovery Channel Canada wondered the same thing.

Barry the camera man, loving hanging out with the ladies

Femme 45 is a group of ladies in the Pacific Northwest with kayaking always on the brain. Sharing waterfalls, big rapids and whitewater joy with other girls is the goal and having fun every time is the outcome.

Kate, Monica, Melissa, Christie and I...smiles all around cause life is so good

Kate and I waiting. Lots of waiting when there are cameras.

On Sunday, a group of Femmes (Christie Glissmeyer, Kate Wagner, Melissa DeCarlo, Monica Gokey and myself) took a camera crew to the waterfalls of the Lower Wind River, as well as the infamous Big Brother on the Green Truss. The idea was to explain how we can have so much fun doing something that seems so dangerous.

The answer? Well, thats tricky.

Walking to the put-in through Washington's finest tropical forested landscape

Monica and I setting safety on the first drop

Partly its the rush of facing a challenge. Every drop, every rapid is like a problem that must be solved using personal judgement and confidence in skills.

Partly its the act of carrying out a specific plan. We see a line, and we go for it.

Partly its the feeling off a horizon line. Free-fall...whoa.

Mostly, its our connection to the river's power and the people we are with that keep us asking for more. Working with such a powerful force of nature along with an incredible group of friends makes for some incredible experiences.

Monica on the second drop

To demonstrate this, we decided to hike into the Lower Wind River and run the 4 waterfalls a couple of times. Afterwards, Christie, Melissa and I took the film crew into the Green Truss where we ran a more difficult drop called Big Brother. The drop was a first for me and due to the support of my friends and the confidence in my ability, it went perfectly.

With all the fun, I can't help but think what we might do next.

Femme 45: Ladies of the Little White Part I

2010-07-14T16:20:00.002-06:00

If you've ever sat in a creek boat and felt the pull of a boof stroke as it transitions into a weightless moment, landing on aerated water then you can relate.

Waves spraying and folding over a steep riverbed of huge boulders, cascading over cliff faces.

Turquoise tinted, translucent waters boiling into chaotic hydrolics.

Steep and jagged canyon walls speckled with glowing green mosses and ferns.

A creek that feels like it should be on another planet.

The Little White Salmon, Washington State.

Here's an idea of what I mean, in case you still can't understand.

These ladies, some of the Columbia Gorge's Femme 45, document the thrill in this Ladies of the Little White preview.

Icing on the Multi-day Cake: Selway River

2010-07-08T18:11:00.006-06:00

Straight beauty, 24 hours a day. Photo by John Blackshire

There was scattered talk about the Selway during our Middle Fork Trip. Seemingly unlikely in the first few days, events just kept falling into place for our group to extend the big blue watery road-trip another few days.

The road over the pass was rumored to be plowed.

Levels were low, but days were getting warmer promising higher flows.

A shuttle bunny offered to drop my car in Missoula...my next destination.

And...we would be putting on the river for the final two days before permit season.

I even managed to make the 3 hour drive south to pick up my belongings in Sun Valley, then turn around and drive another 4 hours back north, landing at the Nez Pierce pass at 2:30 am. Friends were doubtful I'd make it, so I woke at 5am just to be sure. It wasn't until I pulled into their camp that I actually believed I would be on another one of Idaho's legendary river trips.

Thus the Selway happened.

Casey and I with the standard Selway Perma-grin. Photo by John Blackshire

We began to float on the crystal clear-water, all just giddy with the idea that we managed to arrange another classic river trip at the last minute.

Day one was mellow and beautiful, nothing new really. Camp was found the only way a camp can be found on the Selway, with the perfect combination of exhaustion and riverside perfection. We passed the afternoon mushroom hunting and hiking up to the nearby airstrips. Here I met and man who walked as if in his own backyard.

He had flown his small plane in to enjoy an evening in the Bitterroot wilderness, a region he helped protect by writing the Management plan decades ago. He spoke of days spent floating down the river or traversing through the snowy backcountry. He was rich in stories, and I was lucky enough to be there to hear them. Truly a gift.

Perfect place to spend the night. Photo by Nathan Galbreath

Camping by the bridge, ideal dinner and post-whiskey stargazing spot. Photo by John Blackshire

By the time the last day arrived we were pretty accustomed to cruising whitewater, floating into each rapid lackadaisically.

And then we hit the rapids.

Whitewater! Photo by Andy McMurray

Boat scouting everything, we took turns dropping into the chaos. Watching to see the degree of success, we each followed remembering with each stroke how much fun big rapids can be.

"I like rapids so much better than flatwater" Casey commented, nearly laughing hysterically as he spoke.

Casey, throwing gainers off huge cliffs. Us looking like ants down below. Photo by Andy McMurray

Pulling onto shore above Selway Falls, we quickly went our separate ways, taking advantage of any ride we could find. Sometimes a quick goodbye is the easiest. Luckily, I got to hang out with the Montana boys for the next few days...mountain biking and creeking with the locals is never a bad thing.

Can't wait for the next time I get to pack that Green Boat and set out on the water.

Middle Fork of the Salmon: 5-star, All-inclusive, Adventure Resort

2010-07-01T09:29:00.009-06:00

Just floating through Idaho's legendary River of No Return Wilderness

Photo: Todd Corey

The invite for this 6-day multi-day river gem came from a stranger. Of course, if you are a kayaker it doesn't take long to find a connection and realize that you knew each other all along. Mike sent me a message in hopes of adding another female to round-out the crew for a friend's Middle Fork of the Salmon river trip. Since it is just wrong to pass this opportunity up, I was in.

2 ft snow launch into Marsh Creek, Photo by Todd Corey

Three months later I pulled into Salmon, ID to meet up with the group of southeastern boaters who I assumed would be great people, as I had only ever met one before.

The cold air and snowy forest floor made me throw in a few more layers as I jammed my food and camp equipment in the back of my Green Boat. As we packed, another group of guys pull-up to launch. Seemingly strangers as well, it didn't take long to make the connections between mutual Montana friends and suddenly I was now boating with 12 new people. It just kept getting better.

Marsh Creek, keeping warm with Hamms, Photo by Todd Corey

Marsh Creek was low, but it didn't last long. Snow pelting in the face was annoying, but it eventually subsided. Hands were going numb, but they still worked. This was about the extent of our troubles during the whole trip, and they only lasted for a few hours.

Days passed watching herds of elk traverse the mountainside. Afternoons were spent hiking up to see ancient pictographs on the canyon walls. Mostly, time just stopped and we continued to ride the river.

My "tent," also known as "Green Boat Lean-to." Works like a dream. Photo by Nate Galbreath

With so many rivers located in amazing wilderness in this country, it isn't hard to organize a multi-day river trip that will amaze you. However, the Middle Fork is in its own class because of the incredible hot springs.

The first hot spring. No time to take off dry-suits, must get warm. Plus they make for good flotation. Photo by Todd Corey

Every night but one we filled our stomaches with food from heaven then lounged in nature's hot tubs till the whiskey ran out. There were tiered, shallow pools with a built-in shower at Sunflower campground and deep, hot and large tubs at Loon Creek.

Supposedly built by Chinese workers, the hot spring at Look Creek was deep, warm and luxurious, Photo by Nate Galbreath

It was like we stumbled upon a 5-star, all-inclusive, adventure resort in the middle of paradise.

Luck was good with putting some great people all on one river trip. Lofty, Andy and Dick to name a few. Photo by Dick Lewan

The whole crew at the take-out

Trail Running in Washington's Finest

2010-06-17T23:29:00.006-06:00

After questioning enough local endurance fiends about trail running and pulling together all the information, I found a gorgeous and intense trail only 5 min from work. (That's 10 minutes from home).

Just past Northwestern Lake, our local kayak instruction spot and take-out for the Middle White Salmon rafting trip, there is a mountain. I knew there were mountains around here but it seems as though the grandiour of Mt. Hood and Mt. Adams caused me to overlook the ones in my backyard.

Bouncing on Red Rock Canyon Floors in Arizona, December 2009

A similarly great find in Sedona, AZ.

First, I drove a friend to the top for a downhill bike shuttle. He had kindly taken me and friends up to the put-in for the Green Truss a few days earlier. And it took forever. The road kept bending and climbing for a solid 10 min. longer than I expected.

Next I ran into a friend, returning from a run up the same mountain. After some general directions to trails, I found a trailhead and went with it.

Running along a clear blue creek then slicing up the lush mountainside, my legs just couldn't stop turning. I would cross another trail, wanting to turn to explore but also feeling pulled ahead. Next time, I'll go there, I would tell myself. The air seemed to be filled with the crispness of the dew still on the bright green foliage.

It doesn't take much to find some beauty around here that I can go and run around in.

Rivers in the Columbia Gorge

2010-06-08T11:02:00.006-06:00

Its official:

P.O. Box 334

Husum, WA

98623

I'm in love with yet another place.

Washington living, thus far, is like the tropical ecosystems of Ecuador merging with tall, thick Ponderosa Pine groves of Idaho, sprinkled with the snow-capped volcanos of Peru with Pennsylvania's meandering roads through lush farmlands, add an outdoor sport community that rivals Asheville, Fayetteville, Vail, Flagstaff and Jackson Hole COMBINED.

Not to mention some of the best kayaking I've ever seen.

Curt heading toward the take-out on the Miracle Mile, outside of Eugene, OR

Taking part in the Eddyflower Total Vertical Challenge (check it out if you havn't heard about it) has allowed me to paddle more rivers in a shorter amount of time than I could have imagined. I essentially dropped into a community of already motivated paddlers who won the competition last year.

We've lapped lots of local stretches of river as well as traveling to a few more just for fun. The photos in this post are from the Miracle Mile stretch of the Willamette outside of Eugene OR. I did 6 laps of this short but intense stretch, each time trying out new places and growing more and more familiar with every move.

Warm-up stretch on the Miracle Mile, typical Oregon/Washington full green coverage on the river banks

More local to me is the White Salmon, a stretch of spring and glacial fed river that flows through lava tubes that once carried the magma flows off of Mt. Adams. The river canyon is deep, jagged and like nothing I've ever seen. And its in my backyard.

Heading toward a boof, Miracle Mile stretch of the North Fork of the Middle Fork of the Willamette (love the names of river stretches here)

Most incredible Washington River Moment:

Two Bald Eagles followed us around a bend of the Wind River, landing on tree branches nearby with the food they just caught for their young. The juveniles soon joined the party as we sat in a nearby eddy and watched it all go down.

This kind of stuff happens every day here if you are looking for it.

For a list of all the rivers I've hit since arriving in this paradise check out the Eddyflower page where I have to enter in each river I hit. A great way to look back on the past few weeks and remember how lucky I am to be here right now.

Don't forget you can show your support by donating to my team, Femme 45. We are almost at our goal of $1000! Its a great cause....tax deductible!

Total Vertical Challenge: Raising Money for Kids with Cancer

2010-05-18T22:59:00.006-06:00

Kayaking may seem selfish at times, but for the next 32 days I'll be kayaking with a whole lot of purpose.

Taking on the Total Vertical Challenge, I am paddling as much as I can possibly manage (while working and carrying out normal life tasks) to descend as many vertical feet as possible and raise money for First Descents. This organization teaches cancer survivors to kayak, a sport that forces an individual to be aggressive and overcome any obstacle.

I am taking on this challenge with 4 other ladies. We are the Femme 45 team and plan to not only descend more feet than all the other female teams, but raise the most money for this incredible organization. By just raising $1,000, our team can send one cancer survivor to a week-long camp through First Descents.

And you can help!

Any donations are welcome. Consider sponsoring me for every foot I descend (I already have 2,665 on Day 5 of the competition!), or just a flat donation. It's EASY!

Just click here to reach the offical Eddyflower TVC Donation site. Don't forget to list me as the competitor that you are sponsoring!

I have set a personal goal to raise $1,000. If my teammates do the same, we could sponsor 5 cancer survivors to learn to congquer their fears in the most unique way possible, through kayaking.

Keep an eye on the standings, updated daily, to see how me and my team are doing. The women's division is at the bottom of the screen

Thanks!

Compliments from Teammate Brian

2010-05-18T21:40:00.002-06:00

Check out Brian's post on the Adventure race on the TeamSOG blogsite. Its great to hear his point of view about the day's events, especially since they were so flattering!

Another gas station

2010-05-17T11:45:00.001-06:00

She stepped out of her Legacy parked at the next pump and said to me,

"Your Subaru looks like an adventure commercial."

She went on to tell me how her car salesman said that the target audience for the Legacy is woman between 40-55 making over $70K. "Subaru must target young, active woman looking for fun."

Pretty spot on.

Adrenaline, Endurance, Pain, Pleasure, Torture

2010-05-15T15:48:00.006-06:00

At hour 6 ½ in the race, my naive enthusiasm for physical activity mocked me.

It was not until I found myself fighting through the 1500 ft climb, knowing that my body would endure another 3 ½ more hours of this addicting form of torture, that I wondered what I had gotten myself into. At the last minute, TeamSOG asked if I would jump on board to fill out the team. As a the major sponsor of the Yough Extreme 10 hour Adventure Race, TeamSOG needed to be represented even if not by the top members of the team.

My teammates, Brian and Jennie, and I looking fresh at the start

Pre-race meeting

Several factors were in my favor to make the jump into Adventure Racing so blindly.

First, my two teammates, Brian and Jennie, are US National Champion Adventure Racers.

So they’ve got some experience and a little passion for the sport. When Brian asked me to race, I knew that he was aware of my capabilities--or lack thereof. Technical mountain biking is a skill I have yet to acquire fully. However Brian had met me and therefore knew that I would be excited to dive right in and figure it out during a full day of playing in the woods.

Second, I almost never go about an activity via the well-established route of progression.

What is a better way to learn a sport than under the pressure of competition? For example, as I rode across the finish line of an off-road triathlon this past March (the last time I had been on a mountain bike) I noted that the course had been longer and far more technical than anything I have ever ridden before.

Lastly, I was really excited.

This trait might get pushed into the “naive” category, but I consider it a serious asset as I knew it would stay with me through the majority of the race. The night before I made little snacks with all my favorite high-calorie foods and I filled my camelbak with my best brew of green and ginger tea. I thought of pushing my endurance farther, and I mean way farther, than before and wondered how I got to be so lucky that all the pieces fit together for me to slide into the sport.

Race Day

When we could finally take another look at the gash in my arm, 5 hours after the bike bucked me off, I was ready to look at it without getting sick. At checkpoint seven Jennie cleaned it again while I ate a burrito and listened to Brian tell me about the next leg of our journey. Multitasking being an essential skill when not in motion.

When I crashed, our team had only fallen slightly behind the leads. I had been biking for almost an hour and a half, testing my handling skills on a freshly slick 1000ft climb. By the time we reached our first checkpoint, I had already felt more comfortable on the bike.

I told the race staff that it was a lovely day to learn how to mountain bike as we rode away.

Similarly, during the descent I quickly learned some key points to going fast down a mountain. The hardest one being to just let go more. “Don’t use your brakes” Brian suggested. Fairly simple. Reminds me of Andrew Holcombe saying to just paddle faster. Speed is simple, no matter the media.

However, the deep rut my tire dropped into stopped me before any thought of using the brakes. As I breathed through the concentrated surges of adrenaline my body as ever experienced, Brian and Jennie practiced their field first-aid skills. Liquids, betadine, ace bandage and pain killers revived me enough to walk the remainder of the descent to the bike path.

Admittedly, lying on the ground and yelling through gritted teeth at the pain, I did have the thought that this might be the end of the race. Yet being in a remote setting allows you to postpone such a decision. No one would come to carry me off that mountain. Just like when a difficult situation occurs on the river, most often you have to just pick yourself up, brush yourself off and keep going.

By the time we arrived at the paddling transition area, I could grip my right hand. I didn’t even remember that I had the thought of quitting. Not before the river component of the course.

Somehow the ten miles of class I/II in the big and awkward Double Duckie Kayak gave me an extra spring in my step. I didn’t have to think about going downhill on my bike for at least another 3 hours.

We were machines on that river, and brought that energy with us into the long run and hill climb we completed after. By the time we reached that last checkpoint before the orienteering course the top teams were not far ahead.

I kept eating and drinking, but I also noticed my energy and motivation levels start to fluctuate more rapidly. I went from grudgingly crawling up the side of the mountain to joyfully running down the backside. By the time I got only my bike to make the descent to the finish line, I had lost the ability to balance. My knee had gotten pretty painful by then so running was also awkward.

Problem solved: gallop down the finish line while Brian tows both our bikes behind. Not ideal, but it worked. Unfortunately several teams passed us at this point, dropping us down a few places in the final standings.

The next day I was toast.

Icing a swollen elbow and eating as much as I could, I have never enjoyed rest more.

Final Asheville Adventures and "New" Ones Ahead

2010-04-25T11:35:00.011-06:00

Final days in a place are typically not enjoyable. At least when all belongings must be packed, family must be hugged and errands must be run. Fortunately, thats not how I work.

The last day in Asheville began with a pre-dawn drive down to the Green. We put on shortly after the sun came up with our friend Ben Edson. Morning air feels different on the river; as if no one has brushed past it. The rapids felt the same way, ready for kayakers to enjoy and happy to allow us a safe ride through first.

Getting home by 10am meant that all the loose ends of living in a place for 4 months could be tied with a satisfying smile.

That evening I set out on the road with 3 great friends; JP, Sommerville and Steven, for a long road ride on the Parkway. First time riding in pack, I could feel the ease of drafting behind the others as well as enjoy the Hollywood rode through town at the end of the day. The perfect ride really.

Our first stop on the road out west was actually north, in West Virginia. Adam has apparently led a sheltered life, not ever having visited this pristine Appalachian state before.

Perhaps one day you will find yourself driving down West Virginia's Route 19 and smile as you ride over the famous New River Gorge bridge, thinking "Wow, great bridge." Well, you have no idea. Take a minute and at least look at the thing from the visitor center overlooks and you will find yourself wanting to stay longer.

We camped down in the gorge by the river, and paddled down the New River the next day with an

old friend of mine. While we only really spent a day in the valley, we at least drank it in fully.

Next comes one of my favorite parts of the trip so far: Upper Youghiogheny Release. I have been looking forward to taking Adam down my favorite river since we met and finally it happened. Levels were perfect (although they rarely are anything but) and friends were abounding. Each boof and every line were my favorite, and Adam could tell. He said I was glowing (although I rarely do anything but).

And then I prepared for the most grueling, exhausting, hurtful day in the woods I would ever have. More on that later...

Moving West...Again

2010-04-21T10:16:00.001-06:00

We hit the road this morning, saying our last goodbyes to all the things we loved about living in Asheville. We only just scratched the surface, making a return visit a must. Already thinking about being back in the fall.

I can't believe everything fit in the forester this time, both adam's and my stuff. I think my car was born in the same factory as Mary Poppins' trunk.

For now, those rushes of excitment about the new places and people flow steadily.

West Virginia hills, Pennsylvania friends, St. Louis museums, Idaho wilderness, and a Little White home.

This is Asheville

2010-04-13T13:36:00.001-06:00

Enjoying Asheville

2010-04-13T10:21:00.003-06:00

I'm sitting next to my open window with all the benefits of spring blowing right on into my work space. Birds, breeze, sun...the works. Asheville is popping right now. Unfortunately, a week from today I will be driving away from this funky valley. Up and over the Blue Ridge Mountains, I'll have a packed Subaru once again and be on my way North.

Luckily, it is silly to miss Asheville, as I know I'll return soon. Maybe this fall, maybe next spring. Who knows. However, the past few months in the southeast have been the longest amount of time I've spent in this region since I lived in Greenville, SC during elementary school. Experiencing this area as an adult, as a kayaker and as a generally curious person, I will certainly miss many wonderful things. Such as...

The Green Narrows
West Asheville Yoga
Amazing Savings
Running at Bent Creek
A new coffee shop for every day (still havn't seen over half of them)
SO MANY new, awesome friends
Intellectual Raft Guide dinner parties
The hanging bed
The Watauga
The Rivergypsies...oh wait, i'll see them all over the states
The winding road to Marshall
The French Broad (oh yea flatwater training)
Live music all the time
Orbit video
People who want to run/bike/paddle all day with me
Costume boxes bigger than my entire closet
Porch swing
Learning about Gardens with Rose

Plus a lot more.

I'll just have to enjoy the hell out of it all for the next week I guess. Such a hard life.

Back in Ohiopyle

2010-04-11T21:48:00.001-06:00

It was like seeing Ohiopyle from the drive-thru.

With only 2 days to enjoy being back, I had to keep hellos brief and loop runs minimal. There was, however, somehow enough time spent at the Pub. I even found myself pickin up the waitressing pad and slingin some pitchers.

Good thing I'll be back soon.

2010-04-11T21:41:00.001-06:00

US Team Trials 2010

2010-04-06T20:24:00.004-06:00

Yes, it was that much fun.

For me, this event really began back in December. Looking for a reason to be somewhere for the winter, I used the excuse of Team Trials being held on the Nantahala to move to Asheville for 3 months. It also helped that my dad and sister lived in the area and I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to be surrogate mother to Hudson, Andria and Leland Davis' dog. (By the way, their new North America Guidebook is one of the coolest books any paddler can own)

The thought that the southeast might we warmer (and therefore more conducive to training on the water during the winter) also enticed me. After weeks and weeks of freezing temperatures and a ridiculous amount of snow, I have learned to never expect anything out of the weather anymore.

Yet, somehow I bucked up enough to gain a semblance of control over this craft, enough to stay in it and keep it relatively straight. I actually found using a wing blade to help a lot with this, in addition to the flatwater workouts I put myself through.

The race weekend turned out to be a blast. Something about competition is just really exciting for me, every time, no matter how much physical torture I know I am going to endure. I couldn't help but talk to all the other racers I hadn't met yet, just oozing with enthusiasm.

Sprints were first, 2 trials on a 80-90 second course through one rapid.

White-out in Patton's Run on the sprint course

I really just tried to paddle as hard as I could for the sprint. Considering that my boat control is still fairly non-existent I thought I might as well just rely on my strength for this one. Blasting through the top hole (as opposed to slicing to the right of it) slowed me down, but made for a great photo.

I placed 3rd out of the ladies in the sprint, only 1.67% off of Tierney-the numba-one lady. For those of you who don't get this comparison, that is REALLY close. Haley, second-place-jr-racer, was only 1.13% off Tierney.

Arggg! (i.e. I might puke)

Sunday's Classic race, a 12-15 minute race, was a bit more of my speed. Give me the longer endurance race and I'm a happy 'yaker. Of course, the tornado that threw me into the shore as I pulled away from the start, picking up water from the river to spit in my face, made for an interesting beginning to my first Classic event.

Every time I felt myself backing off, I made myself go faster. Every time I came out of a rapid, I made myself go faster. And every time I thought of Tierney a few spots behind me, I made myself go faster. Although I was barely breathing across the finish line, I think I could have gone faster.

I pulled it up a bit for the class, allowing me to jump to 2nd place for the final rankings. Amazingly enough I was still just 1.65% off of Tierney. What is with that number?

JP Bevilaqua, my Asheville training partner, and Tom Wier after the Classic

Mackenzie and I cheering the boys over the finish line on after our Classic runs

It feels pretty good to make the Team, even if I can't make it to World's in Spain this year. I'm looking forward to working out the kinks over the next 2 years and hitting an international event in 2012!

15 Pounds, 15 Feet and White Knuckles

2010-02-22T07:02:00.007-07:00

How often do you get to genuinely feel like a true beginner again, after practicing a sport for nearly a decade? Almost never.

You can fake it, like letting a 6 year old catch you in a game of tag, or...

You can fudge it, like using only one arm to shoot hoops.

But rarely do you get to feel the excitement and anticipation of square one again.

If you have been kayaking for as long as I have try sitting in a wildwater boat and you'll know exactly what I mean. Throw everything you know about the forward stroke, torso rotation and edge control out with the trash. Get the slate as blank as possible, you're going to need it.

Chris Hipgrave flies under the bridge. Photo: Adam Elliott

Perhaps this doesn't sound like a very good idea? You spend years developing skills and techniques and reach a fairly advanced level within a sport. Why would you want to throw it all out the window.

To get better.

It also makes class III really REALLY exciting again.

JP demonstrating the kind of focus you need to paddle the boat correctly. Photo: Adam Elliott

Me, just holding on and trying to keep up. Photo: Adam Elliott

The boat is going to teach me a lot about kayaking that I might have assumed I already knew. Just trying to get a proper forward stroke is sometimes too much for me to think about. I find myself returning to taking it in pieces, just like how I recommend my students approach learning to paddle.

I continue to struggle finding a sufficient level of comfort in the boat so that I'm not just using correctional strokes the whole way down. A little padding here, a new seat from the Czech Republic and many, many more days on the water should help out a lot. I can only imagine what this is going to feel like when I have my ducks in a row and can work on paddling as hard as I possibly can. My sister did comment that the boat looked like a torpedo. I answered "that's because it is."

The three of us charging toward Nantahala Falls, a rapid that I would never imagine to bring me chills. Photo: Adam Elliott

Busting through the bottom hole...upright! Photo: Adam Elliott

Hope to get out many more days with these guys in the next month! Thanks!

Must Paddle

2010-02-15T06:49:00.001-07:00

Happy Monday!

The snow and cold weather just doesn't seem to be going away. Getting out on the water means a few more layers, a pair of pogies and a whole lot of motivation.

Today we head to the Chatooga in GA/SC with high hopes for a run on Overflow creek tomorrow.

All the while praying for warmth.

Partner Poses: Kids Yoga Teacher Training, Asheville NC

2010-02-04T19:34:00.010-07:00

Too many of us could use a little more help, encouragement, support and human touch in our lives.

In Yoga, practicing poses with a partner allows the body to connect with another's breath and strength. Sometimes this can awaken places within your own body that were hiding. With the gentle pull of another's hand, the slight pressure of their feet or even the warmth of their laughter, something allows you to go deeper into yourself.

Now imagine this with a room full of wonderful female yogis, gathered in this room to share their love for bringing yoga to kids. A playful and fun bunch for sure.

Rewa and Lisa make triangle look like it should be in a major dance production here. In this pose you may not be able to see your partner, but the increased stretch in the outer body and soft back support reassure you that you have a friend back there.

Cody introduced the "squish" pose, a favorite of her young students. Here the ladies took the squish to the next level, throwing in a backbend for the squisher. By using a connection in the hands both partners get a better back stretch from crown to sacrum.

From here, the top yogi can even lift her legs straight to the sky for a more challenging balance inversion. The bottom yogi gets the benefit of an even greater release of the hips toward the ground.

I think song birds should be released behind the partner pair that opens up their hearts to the sky in this pose. They clasped their hands and began to rotate up, using each other to open up the side waste more than anyone could do alone. At that moment, there was a uniform sigh-of-beauty from the audience. Everyone creates beauty in themselves withyoga.

From an assisted down dog to a flying partner balance. These ladies took a common partner yoga pose and mixed it up a bit. The great part is, there are no rules so anything is game!

Try simply flipping a normal yoga pose and balancing it on your friend's head. Here, Laura and Bonnie just turned staff pose upside down.
Suddenly your staff is floating in the air and those sit bones don't extend away from the crown of the spine as easily as when your friend gravity is there to assist.

Lisa, my partner for supported cobra pose, became my new best friend in only a few short minutes. Not only did she show me space in my lower back that I hadn't been able to reach, she lowered me to my mat with a gentle, yet exquisite shoulder/neck/back rub. Again, I love you Lisa.

Your arms are shaking, your legs are about to collapse and you are no where close to having your belly in the air. Then suddenly your partner rises beneath you. While supporting your back as she rounds hers to the sky, you are suddenly lighter and begin to feel your own strength again as you finally come into full bridge pose.

This is the narration I would have given if this partner pose were to be done in a dramatic, lifetime mini-series.

More than 2 friends? Easy. Here we just arranged ourselves equally and played with where we could balance ourselves using our neighbor's position. Add in a twisting, heart-opening stretch to the sun and there are instant smiles all around.

Jana isn't trying to knock down her friend Jessica here. Leg and core strength translate into a greater heart opening in this inversion. This opening can be difficult to feel when also concentrating on the balance and focus needed for a hand-stand. But that's what friends are for.

A confusing game of twister? Or just 5 creative yogis looking to incorporate everyone into the pose.

With many possible variations in hand and leg placement, even number of people, this pose could really go anywhere.

Bottom line: Grab a friend and see where you can go beyond your personal practice!

Be a Cool Kid

2010-01-26T10:57:00.003-07:00

Hey, why not hear about what Susan's up to without having to keep looking for an update!

Subscribe, Subscribe, Subscribe!

Its easy! (right side task bar)

It will make you smile! (I am almost always writing about how cool life is or can be)

It will make me smile! (love to hear about happy readers!)

Vasisthasana in Arkansas: I-40 Yoga Trip Review

2010-01-26T07:41:00.006-07:00

Vasisthasana

Reading and pronouncing a yoga pose in Sanskrit are often harder than the actual pose. This is Vasisthasana, or Side-Arm Balance. To be more specific, it is Vasisthasana in Arkansas.

The vinyasa (a sequence of several yoga poses that loosens up the spine) that I practiced on the cold, stone Arkansas Visitor Center sign might have been the only yoga I have ever done in Arkansas.

While on our I-40 Yoga Tour, my sister and I outright neglected Arkansas' yoga opportunities. Instead, Megan got a lesson in driving a standard transmission and I rode my longboard around a parking lot. The state just had some bad luck. It was a long day behind the wheel and we decided not to stop between Oklahoma City and Memphis. Next time Arkansas.

This pose has come up several times since I've arrived in the Yoga Mecca of Asheville. Anusara trained instructors Meghan and Joe at West Asheville Yoga and Asheville Yoga Center clued me in to a different perspective on my alignment here. By drawing my hips back, as if to stick out my butt then curling the tailbone under I was able to pull in more stability from my core. This allowed me to breathe deeply and open my torso and heart to the sky fluidly, without loosing my balance.

It was exciting in my own nerdy-yoga way.

Moral of the Story:
Stability can originate in the center and spread throughout the body with the fluid connection of deep breath.

New Rivers: North Fork French Broad, Doe, Watauga

2010-01-22T10:10:00.007-07:00

North Fork French Broad, Clog rapid. Photo courtesy Chris Bell

This Asheville living thing is going to be fun. The rain hasn't really stopped in the past week and new rivers just seem to be everywhere. First day out I caught Adriene before she headed off to Australia for an epic Kimberly mission. The Green was on the low side, but that just made the boofs bigger. Only a few days before temperatures were probably in the single digits, leaving thick ice coats on all the rocks and ledges. Lines were tighter and beautiful ice structures were everywhere. Check out her blog for some photos.

After another great run on the Green, Charley and I joined Chris and Harrison (C1) on the North Fork of the French Broad.

Harrison droping over Boxcar rapid. Photo courtesy Chris Bell

A little creek just outside of Asheville, this run provided some great drops, like Boxcar seen above. Even better, this was the third day of paddling with new locals. I can't get enough of kayaking's ability to creat instant friendships with some amazing people. Lucky me.

Charley on boxcar. Like a waterslide for big kids. Photo courtesy Chris Bell

Gotta take time to enjoy some beauty every once in a while. Photo: Harrison

Harrison dancing with danger under massive ice daggers. Photo courtesy Chris Bell

Me dropping into Suicide rapid (no worries, suicide is left...i'm going right) Photo courtesy Chris Bell

Charley and I headed out toward Boone, NC to get on the Watauga River at a higher flow. My good friends Drew and Jeff graciously showed my students and I down this stretch of river in the fall, but at much lower water. It was a creek then, today it was a full-on river. Some might go as far to say a high water river.

Charley sending it over a boof, Watauga River.

Stateline Falls, higher water than I've seen yet. Representing TeamSOG

Charley and Drew on Doe river, an unexpected canyon in eastern Tennessee, a secret wilderness beauty.

The Doe Canyon was an unexpected treat for Charley and I. With a severely broken Nomad (not mine luckily) and the constant desire to get on some new runs, Drew agreed to meet us here. This canyone is said to be one of the most beautiful, easily accessed runs in the region. The fog hung in the trees, provided the occasional glance to surprisingly large cliff faces on either side of this micro-creek. Mellow rapids with some great boofs and tight, technical lines made us happy. But then again, it doesn't take much to make us happy.

The next few months will be filled with good times like this. So many more runs in the area, many of which will push the envelope more and many of which will take the breath away.

Keep it comin!

More Canyon

2010-01-12T21:32:00.001-07:00

Still Thinking About the Canyon

2010-01-12T21:30:00.001-07:00

Moonlight to Moonlight, Grand Canyon in Between

2010-01-11T09:10:00.002-07:00

The moon's luminenscence upon snow turned our path into a glowing white carpet. After the first hour of descent the sun began its day with lighting up the very edge of the top rim, where we had just been. Our elevation dropped, and the sunlight upon the canyon wall followed us down. It caught up in no time. We are athletic, but the sun moves pretty fast.

I think I can say that every other time I've gone for a hike it has been uphill first. Perhaps a bit of downhill to get to the uphill, but its almost always up then down. It was an adjustment to be going down for so long with taking absolutely no steps up. For 3 hours gravity helped us move along the trail. We would sometimes allow it more control, placing each footstep strategically in an assisted run. Other times it worked more against us, reminding us of our weight through our knees.

At the river we shared coffee and hot chocolate at Phantom Ranch, relaxed and wandered around. By the time we decided to start going up again, it felt like summer. Warm sun rays around every corner, the sound of rapids just around the bend and a soft, sandy beach.

Moving from summer into fall, the temperature dropped with the sun. The crampons got more use and we pushed to complete the 5 hour ascent back to the rim. The increased numbers of ill-prepared and hesitant tourists meant that we were only moments from the visitor center on the rim. A sunset to remember for a long time.

Next Adventure: I-40

2010-01-04T17:53:00.003-07:00

Avoiding Insanity on a 30 Hour Drive

View I-40 Yogaventure in a larger map

My dear sister, Megan, is flying out from Greenville to spend the next 4 days with me along I-40. Several years ago my dear friend, also Megan, and I pointed her white Jetta west and headed along I-90. Over the following years I found myself moving about these latitudes; lots of I-70, a bit of I-80; crossing from one side of the country to the other. This week, we will get to know another of these interstates, a southern route. We'll see how the rest stops compare to Ohio, how the truck stops compare to Pennsylvania, the scenic overlooks compare to Utah.

But why let your muscles atrophy sitting for hours and hours on end? Only a strict deadline warrants this, which we don't have. So in light of our mutual interest and love for yoga, we will stop in some of the major cities to visit studios and explore the urban scene. (Urban? How do I do that?) Check out the map to see some of our ideas for stopping.

Know anything interesting to see or do along this route? PLEASE let me know!

Why Two Wheels All of a Sudden?

2010-01-03T14:21:00.003-07:00

Again, you find yourself on a bike. A new trend that doesn't suck.

New Years Eve in the desert:

You wake up late because Boondock Saints went late last night with your new friend Will. Fortunately, your bikes and gear are loaded into the futuristic, distance-friendly Toyota Prius and you leaisurely drive south to Sedona.

There are no bookstores in Sedona, you come to find. There are plenty of jewelry, t-shirt and jeep tour shops though. All of which are sandwiched between the purple signs of psychics. You don't want to visit any of these shops, as they only remind you of the excessive luxury tourism of other outdoor destinations like Breckenridge, Stowe or Sonoma.

You make your way to 7 Centers Yoga School, where the auroma and taste of new spices will fill your head for the next hour and a half. The Ayurvedic cooking class is part of their free New Years Eve class schedule. And free is your favorite flavor.

Your boyfriend, however, is tired at this point and needs an energy boost. You decide to swing into the local bike shop to fish for the "local" scoop on good biking spots for the day. NOD, as the attendant introduces himself (gnarly old dude, the G is silent), is a Navajo descendant who prides himself on giving his friends a unique biking vacation. Just last summer he took his buddies, the Switzerland World Champion Mnt. Biking team, on a ride through the reservation, an experience unavailable to those without the proper connections. He mentions he wants to take them down the Colorado next summer. Good thing your boyfriend is a guide. Cha-Ching.
NOD sells you a Cosmic Ray Bike map and sends you on a route you simply can't hate.

Despite being fitted for someone else and rarely ridden, your bike is perfect. The first few miles you remember which levers make it harder and which make it really harder. The next few miles you begin to remember to change these settings in order to climb hills, or speed up around bends. Slowly the comfort and ease of a mountain bike comes back to you. Rocks, ledges and ditches are no longer obstacles, but features. Your body is working hard and you are loving life.

The sun is setting and you are back at your car. Salty skin and fatigued thighs, but smiling powerfully.

South Mountain Bike Ride

2009-12-29T16:35:00.005-07:00

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

2009-12-17T16:39:00.004-07:00

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

2009-12-15T12:51:00.004-07:00

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?

2009-11-22T19:21:00.005-07:00

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

2009-11-17T05:58:00.000-07:00

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

2009-11-13T06:01:00.014-07:00

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

2009-10-15T10:38:00.004-06:00

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...

2009-10-04T20:21:00.011-06:00

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...

2009-09-22T11:38:00.008-06:00

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

2009-08-16T10:34:00.006-06:00

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

2009-07-14T21:23:00.001-06:00

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

2009-07-14T19:52:00.000-06:00

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?

2009-07-07T04:24:00.001-06:00

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

2009-07-03T20:57:00.000-06:00

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

2009-07-03T20:49:00.000-06:00

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

2009-07-03T02:20:00.000-06:00

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

2009-07-02T03:58:00.001-06:00

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?

2009-06-30T04:42:00.000-06:00

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

Another Countdown...

2009-06-22T01:46:00.002-06:00

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

2009-06-21T22:37:00.005-06:00

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.

Teva Mountain Games, Vail Colorado

2009-06-10T11:40:00.011-06:00

Perhaps you are reading my posts and thinking...does this girl ever do any real work? Well, yes actually. In fact, that is what brought me here to CO..."work".

First assignment: attend Teva Mountain Games in Vail and watch friends and students throw down in Extreme Creek, Freestyle and Downriver competitions all weekend.

In addition, the world's top extreme athletes in climbing, biking, running and more were there all weekend to compete making for plenty to see and do in between kayaking events. Here are some of the highlights...

Here is Jake Greenbaum (shout out to local Ohiopylian) pulling hard on Homestake Creek for the extreme creek race. Jake is a fellow Nature Cure Race team member (he and I make up the kayaking team).

Nikki Kelly, female winner of the Homestake Race and long time Teva Athlete. The women all the young kayaking ladies look up to (including myself).

Pyranha team memeber Nicole Mansfield competed in both the extreme creek race as well as making it to the Finals for Women's Freestyle.

The competitions also gave me the opportunity to meet some of my students and their families who will be traveling with WCKA next year. Just a few weeks ago several of them made the Jr. National Freestyle Team in Glenwood Springs, allowing them the opportunity to travel to Switzerland this summer to compete for a World Title.

It was a great, and exhausting, weekend. Put some of the world's most talented athletes together in a party town like Vail and you not only get some spectacular events, but even more spectacular parties.

If you know me at all you can imagine the torture of just watching these events. Next year I plan to enter and win. Watch out.

Next stop...FiBark in Salida, CO, June 17-21st...then CHINA!!!!

Who'se a cover model? Oh hell no...

2009-06-07T21:30:00.002-06:00

I thought those back home at Penn State might be interested to see what I've been up to lately. Apparently it was interesting enough for the center article and cover shot! Just my way of telling all my professors, mentors and instructors back in Reading how my education helped me to get such a great job.

Thank you!

New Landscapes

2009-06-07T18:45:00.012-06:00

After no more than a week spent in Colorado, some time with Grandma in the big city as well as Aunt Margie and George in Idaho Springs, Megan decided to take me on a vacation to Moab, Utah. Since I had never been and all. And since she was sick of living out of her truck in the cold/rainy/snowy weather Vail just kept dishing out.

Keeping with tradition we leave late in the evening, keeping the canyonlands hidden in the night alongside I-70. We immediately drive up to a place called Gemini Bridges, quickly gaining elevation as she weaves her car along the 4-wheel drive path cut into the mountainside. Vehicles on the highway below turn into matchbook cars, then disappear altogether. The whole time, my mind is painting pictures of what I imagine the view to be.

I wake up the next morning to this.

With no others camping in the area, we hung out in our personal canyon all morning. Simply soaking in the sun, reading, exploring and relaxing.

Megan's new truck couldn't fit her lifestyle any better. Equiped with kitchen shelves, a comfy, carpeted bed and even a "princess lair" she can basically go anywhere and still be at home. Oh, and rarely do we travel without a box of Delicious Red.

Driving out of Gemini Bridges exposed the amazing landscape, with aerial views of Arches National Park and the snowy peaks of the distant mountain range (whose name I can't remember). Amazing.

Hanging my feet out the rear of Meg's truck while driving around the canyons. Kind of like my own viewing window. 10 times better than TV.

The desert is a landscape I look forward to exploring more in the future. So raw and stark, with bursts of life in the most unlikely locations. I hope it begins with some trips down the classic rivers that carve out the canyons in this part of the country. Lucky for me, some good new friends call this part of the world home and might be excited to share it with me!

beyond the concrete chaos

2009-05-23T15:55:00.001-06:00

Maintaining peace is a fine balance in the city. It is possible that I attract this type of urban experience by attempting to complete an absurd amount of errands and chores in a small amount of time. Today there was too many stop lights.
Too many one way streets.
Too many Target-Panera-Nail Salon malls.
Too many off ramps.
Too many things to take my money.
Too many shut-down bike stores…ok, just one of those.

I could feel the stress-level begin to snowball. Unable to kayak—not just because there are no rivers in downtown Denver—and unable to bike on a flat, I dropped my car off at the shop, grabbed my longboard and ipod, and took off.
Two hours later, exhausted and elated, I remembered that stress is often a useless and fake emotion. I also remembered that for me, this epiphany usually comes with the release of adrenaline.

reprogram

2009-05-21T14:53:00.002-06:00

I have referred to every vehicle as van. "We'll pack your van later...i mean truck" By the third time I noticed the pattern, realizing how many times i've said van in the past two months.

Done and Done.

2009-05-20T21:23:00.004-06:00

Graduation day and now its over. It felt as abrupt as that sentence. Now I’m reminding myself what it is I do with myself when no one is planning out my day for me.

Mornings of review or finals and afternoons of surfing comprised most days throughout the week. The group also came together to beautify our home base, Crystal Springs, by laying stones for a walkway that circled around to the side of the house. Looking at the finished project, I am amazed at what you can accomplish with 13 students and 5 teachers shoveling, leveling, hauling and fitting.

What do you do when stressed? Jesse plays dress-up.

After the flurry of finals week slowly came to a close the weight of classes was lifted off the student’s shoulders. They began to feel summer’s presence and the end of a semester of experiencing, traveling, paddling and living the dream getting even closer. Many were only just beginning to process what just happened, most will take the rest of their lives to fully appreciate the time we have spent together. I know I will.

Erik and Jerry Johnson

Parents began to arrive, hugs and stories were exchanged and good food was eaten. As a teacher, it was fun to play the Who-Belongs-to-Who game. Facial features, mannerisms and, of course, nametags all gave it away pretty easily.

Graduation platform, overlooking Alberton Gorge

I happened upon help, yet again. Sam’s dad, Stan Makman the Orthopedist, examined my shoulder offering advice and help as to how I can continue treating it. Next came Amy the physical therapist, Dave Zinn’s girlfriend, who moved my shoulders in every way possible and sent me a plan to begin more intensive therapy for it.

Thank you world. I needed that.

Now there is this overwhelming sense of freedom. First, celebration. Graduation and LJ's birthday. Best in the West, Sushi and probably ending at Charley's. Where else?

Ten Days Ago

2009-05-20T09:24:00.005-06:00

No more miles to be covered, no more kitchens to be assembled, no more tent sites to be scouted. At least not for a few months. The final leg of our journey, however, was not without flair. Rumor of a “short cut” through the backcountry Montana had us on windy, country flattened strips of land (purposely not using the word “road”). With multiple unhitching of trailers to turn the caravan around due to wrong turns and deep, muddy snow we backtracked to the mail road, found the real short cut and continued on to Crystal Springs, our home base, with only a few hours lost thanks to a short cut.

I fight the desire to settle into my place here. Lucky enough to have my own room (4 walls! A mattress! A door!) I can imagine setting out all my books, organizing my “closet” and building a study space. But I know 5 days from now I will be wrapping things up again, compacting them into my vehicle and driving away. Thus I settle for the minimal in my temporary home; sleeping bag, computer, backpack.

A week of writing reviews, creating finals, grading essays—not terrible, just wait—and hanging out with the incredible group of youth and staff who have experienced the world with me alongside a deep river gorge amidst the mountains of western Montana.

Business mixed with pleasure as usual.

Falling with Water

2009-05-05T14:14:00.004-06:00

Take the 360 degree views of verdant slopes, dripping with the earth’s moisture despite the lack of precipitation. Combine this with steep gorge walls, steep grades and basalt rock and you get the Pacific Northwest.

Go for a walk in the woods.

Meander over the soft terrain where each foot step sinks into the earth slightly giving you a bounce in your stride.

Weave around the towering pine trees and smaller shrubs and brush.

A small stream appears, flowing slowly and calmly around small river rocks. You decide to follow its path through forest.

Light shines through to a clearing ahead. As you approach the light, the earth turns rocky and abruptly ends.

A canyon hundreds of feet drops out in front of you. The innocent brook cascades off the end of the earth; falling, falling, falling.

It lands in a deep pool, clear and fresh, and continues its smooth and easy journey downhill as if it hadn’t just thrown itself off a huge cliff.

Spirit Falls, Little White Salmon, Washington

Nate Garcia, coming out from behind the curtain at Spirit

Downstream shot from the lip

Jesse Shimrock's tree-slide, Sweet Creek, Oregon

I forget the name of this one, just outside Hood River, Oregon

Downstream of the gorge after Punchbowl Falls on Eagle Creek, Oregon

Nate Garcia going off the lip at Punchbowl

Eric Parker sticking his line

Jason Cohen, about to punch the bowl

We barely scratched the surface of the waterfall fun in these parts. I can't wait to return on my own, perhaps with my girl Megan, to fall off these amazing drops over and over and over again.

So much yet to explore...

Oregon and Washington: My Future Home (one of them at least)

2009-04-18T13:34:00.015-06:00

With only 3 weeks left in the semester, we have already covered a significant distance. From the Feather and Trinity Rivers in northern California our traveling circus headed west for the coast where ocean waves would allow us to dust off our playboats. I found yet another slice of heaven amongst the Redwood trees at our campsite in Jebadiah State Park. For two mornings the team’s workouts consisted of a meandering trail run to one of the oldest groves of these trees on the west coast, aptly named Stout Grove. Like the gold at the end of the rainbow, suddenly your quick footsteps bring you around a bend and the undergrowth melts away to reveal 20-30 of the biggest trees I’ve ever gotten to wander beneath. I was halted by their beauty, unable to look down at the trail.

Adding to the list of firsts for the year, possibly longer than previous years already, I traveled up the epic Oregon coastline toward Florence, our next destination. Around every bend was yet another view of steep cliffs dropping into the ocean, waves crashing and the sun setting. As this passed out of view the vans weaved through the magnificent coniferous forest waiting to reveal the next jaw-dropping vista. I wished I could stop at every one and take in the view completely. Another time perhaps.

From Florence, the group split between more ocean surfing and Sweet Creek, a short stretch of slides and waterfalls easily

lapped via a riverside trail. The whole scene was glowing in every shade of green, alongside the mountain walls, hanging from every limb and branch. Every breath felt like thousands of microscopic, pristine water droplets entering my lungs and filling my body with a crisp, clean air. Although I had been taking it easy on my shoulder, I was able to get in several runs on the creek, each time remembering how much joy is felt from a single boof. Unfortunately, I also realized that my shoulder would not get any better if I were to continue testing it before completely healed.

Eugene’s River House became our next home. This building houses the city’s recreation programs, led by multiple friends as well as one of our students who lives in the area. After finally visiting a doctor and getting told to take several weeks off the water, I let go of my hopes for paddling more in Oregon and began to embrace other avenues of adventure, such as longboarding.

While students paddled in the afternoon, I rode my new longboard through the streets of Eugene, exploring the city’s markets, drum circles, playgrounds, walkways, alleyways, bums on benches, rose gardens and more. Over an excellent Americano with honey I was entertained by the styles of Eugene’s drag queen population as they prepared for a show that evening. I still wonder how they manage to walk on those high heels with such grace. Weaving through the streets toward home, I met several friendly people who kindly directed me back toward the River House, some correctly, some slightly off, all appreciated.

Now, our current campsite resides on the property of All Adventures Rafting company on the White Salmon River, Washington State. This stop will be our longest for the quarter, approximately 10 days total. If you were here, you’d understand why.

Each day we drive into the chill town of Hood River for class, crossing the broad, wind-swept Columbia River into Oregon. Almost every morning kite boarders and wind surfers dot the flat surface of the river, taking advantage of the gorge’s famous winds to catch epic air and carve out turns at high speeds. Afternoons the group heads down any one of the multiple creeks in the area; Farmlands, Green Truss, Little White Salmon to name a few. With more water and gradient, these creeks provide a generous challenge to each student, no matter their skill level. A future post will include some great shots of these runs!

Kaweah and Three Rivers

2009-04-04T09:27:00.018-06:00

We have exploded in the Three Rivers Hideaway, a campground and RV park on the banks of the Kaweah River, just outside of the Sequoia National Park.

Home for me is now the blue North Face in the right of the photo. First contained in a Rubbermaid bin and large Watershed dry bag, I unload the pieces and assemble the cozy nook I will escape to every night and anytime I need a break from the chaos that is our traveling circus. With each new home I find myself outfitting even the tiniest space with pieces of comfort. Certain books, a cozy sleeping system, my journal. Quickly it transforms into a home, different from the last and the next but perfect for right now.

Frisbee before breakfast and we are on to our classes for the morning. A student-teacher team prepares meals every day (I'm wednesday) and by the afternoon with the sun shining bright upon our small world, we load up the boats and head into the park for a section of the Kaweah. After a heart-pumping afternoon of granite, boofs, sun and pure joy the stresses of the school day have been put into perspective. I realize I can accomplish necessary class prep, menu planning and other daily chores without excess stress, thanks to the daily reminder of the river.

Here our group awaits at the bottom of the first slide, a stout rapid for some of the crew members and an incredible way to begin a day of kayaking.

Further downstream the more experienced group members run a section known as Hospital Rock. A section full of California's classic steep, technical, canyon rapids and plenty of waterfalls. About 3/4 of the way down this run I fumbled, attempting to brace my way back upright going over a small slide. Something pinched in my shoulder, causing me to walk off the run before the final few rapids. Luckily, the river isn't going anywhere.

A weekend field trip deeper into the park and suddenly we were surrounded by giants. Snow blanketed the surface of the forest and intermixed between normal conifers trees were the towering Sequoias, bright red bark, thick trunks and incredible height. General Sherman, the tallest of these beasts, was beyond words. Somehow it didn't even seem like a tree to me, perhaps some sort of other man-made structure placed there to amaze our tiny species. Yet, it also stood with a quiet confidence that proved its living presence.

A final day in the park meant a creative trip down the river. Teachers and coaches organized a mini adventure race for the students. Broken into four teams, each member was to run to the put-in (uphill of course), tag a team-mate who would race down. Each team-member had to complete both sections of course (with a nice break in between the legs to gear-up). Students muscled head-to head on the water and pushed thier way through the hot sun up the hill. Taking photos, and running with some of the groups, I was still able to enjoy the day, despite being inured and off-water.

Here, a student drops into the final pool, crossing the finish line. This last rapid was one of the best on the run, a 3-drop sequence with seivey consequencse (water coming through rock on right).

Next stop, former student Justin Pat's house and the Yuba river!

Another example of life handing you exactly what you need: J Pat's dad happens to be a chiropractor and was able to take a look at my shoulder, apply some electric shock therapy and give me exercises. What luck? How do you say thank you for such care? Not to mention they opened their house to our insane explosion, kitchen, bathrooms, living space...where ever we go, we immediately take over. However, our departure is flawless as the group comes together (with much prodding from teachers) to clean and organize the space as to hide our catastrophic presence. Thank you Pats!

Creeking in California. Everyone Should Try It.

2009-03-27T11:51:00.005-06:00

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

2009-03-18T10:44:00.004-06:00

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

2009-03-18T10:24:00.006-06:00

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?

2009-03-18T10:11:00.004-06:00

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.

Xidong, Matrimonial Dress and Family

2009-02-23T18:05:00.012-07:00

Exit China, enter Tibet.

No welcoming sign marked this border, in fact, a border doesn’t exist at all. Yet something here is different. Faces toughened by harsh sunlight and heavy workloads, Rosy cheeks over tanned skin. Time taken to connect to the earth, to come together in celebration, to give thanks for one’s blessings.

Here alongside the Mekong our group stayed in a small guest house in a town where no internet cafes could be found, no bakeries, no China Mobile shops. A simple convenience store in our guest house was the closest our group came to enjoying treats from the outside world. A sprite, a Snickers bar, a bottle of water. Due to an exciting stretch of river and the relaxing atmosphere of our new home, the group decided to stay here for over a week. It wasn’t until near the end of this time that I began to feel a connection to the amazing family whose home we shared.

I began by entering the kitchen to speak with Zachary, our translator. The great grandmother would usher me in to take a seat and immediately offer me Yak Butter Tea (a warm, salty, slightly thick beverage that while you continue to drink, you’re never really sure if you like it or not) and an assortment of surprisingly flavorless cookies and cakes. The students likened these enticing goodies to eating twigs made to look like rice crispy treats. They, along with the tea, began to grow on me.

One afternoon I asked if I could help cook dinner. I arrived as great grandma was heading to feed the pigs. Ladleing a soupy mixture of our leftovers into two buckets, she began to carry them on her back. I, of course, insisted that I do this work, amazed that she is still able to lift such heavy loads. This naturally relieved her and gave her some enjoyment at my initial struggle with the mechanism.

Returning to the kitchen I helped grandma and a young daughter of hers begin to prepare dinner. Over the deep wok, heated by a small wooden fire enclosed in the concrete structure, we heated oil and began dropping in ingredients and seasonings filling my nasal passages with pure, tasty bliss. The jalapeno peppers more so a fiery, sneeze-inducing bliss. I learned how to stir the fried rice, flatten the peppers and fry the meat. Yet, what I enjoyed the most was spending this time with these women. They laughed at my ignorance and I smiled, knowing that it made them happy I was choosing to spend my time with them. I returned the following day, our last, to help prepare other meals and pass the time in this warm little kitchen where aromas swirled and foreign languages filled the air.

Our group requested the presence of the family members of the household (grandparents, moms, dads, nephews, nieces, aunts, uncles, kinds, etc) for a photo of everyone on our last evening at the guesthouse. The family interpreted this invitation as a call for celebration. The women quickly grabbed Kristi and I, the only two females in our group, and guided us to their rooms. Here all the women of the family began to layer us in traditional Tibetan wear. Silk shirts with sleeves reaching the floor, heavy dresses and layer upon layer of cloth wraps. To garnish, thick necklaces laden with local orange coral beads and large silver pendants hung from our necks while similar ornaments were wrapped around our waists. Lastly, a headdress with tassels, balls and string were placed on our heads. We were instantly 40 pounds heavier and more colorful than a box of lucky charms. Along with a few other transformed male group members, we joined everyone in the family’s worship room. The students and other teachers were shocked, not aware of the reason for our delay. A photo shoot ensued until we all settled into seats, chatting and sipping on our homemade barley wine (or rather the teachers were sipping on the wine).

As is tradition, our young host got up to sing a beautiful Tibetan song. Upon completion it soon became apparent that we were to all individually to get up in from the group to sing, as per tradition. While some of the students had to be dragged to the front and forced out a verse of twinkle-twinkle little star, others rattled off verses of music ranging from country to rap to bluegrass. I chose “Down to the River to Pray”, a short and beautiful tune by Allison Krausse, one of my favorites.

The rest of the night was spent sharing photos and videos of our travels and our exploits on the river. After a hearty breakfast of rice porrage, hard-boiled eggs, steamed rolls and noodle bowls, we sadly bit our farewells to this family with which we all felt a strong connection. When the great grandmother began to cry at our departure, holding our hand and motioning for us to return, we knew we would not forget our time here.

Photos by Adam Elliot

2009-02-20T00:15:00.003-07:00

These are some photos from the Yangtze taken by our Trip Leader with Last Descents River Tours, Adam Elliot. His photos are breathtaking and capture the moment in a light unseen by most others

Group shot!

Yubon - The Roadless Tibetan Village

2009-02-19T21:38:00.014-07:00

The clanging of cowbells echoes across the high mountain walls surrounding our small guesthouse. While their song fills these parts from sunrise to sunset, this hour marks the symphony’s grand finale. Yaks, horses, donkeys and other large farm mammals saunter down from the hills where they grazed away the day’s hours. Each bell chimes a slightly different pitch, making the overall sound quite harmonious rather than painfully obnoxious. The sun has dropped behind the snowy peak in the foreground, looming over this small mountain village. The crisp air creeps out of the shadows where it took refuge during the sun’s daily reign and I must immediately don more layers to my poorly adapted form. Two horses veer off the path to drink from the stream, both moving on as if a silent consensus took place as to whether they were satiated. A fat pig ambles by, nipples hanging low, with five little piglets scrambling to keep up at her feet. No fences line the fields here, holding the animals inside. They seem to instinctively know where to go for food and where to return for rest at the end of the day. Perhaps they learned it from their ancestors, being passed on for centuries.

Our arrival yesterday afternoon culminated a journey that brought new highs with each bend of the trail. Once I found a steady pace, my legs carried me up the steep, dusty path, through forests and over rocks and ice. As we rounded the apex of the mountain standing between the small, road less village Yubeng and the town Xidong, evidence of the land’s sacredness emerged. Strings of prayer flags linked branches overhead and alongside the path. Flapping loudly with the wind, or silently waving in the breeze their colors danced as massive snowy peaks emerged in the distance. The small village emerged nestled in the valley floor below as we descended slightly on the backside of the mountain.

The following 2 days were the closest WCKA gets to having a vacation. No one brought school materials and no workouts were scheduled for the next full day. Students were able to sleep in, rest, read and explore the village and surrounding mountains to thier heart's content.

A large group of us hiked further up to the base of the glaciers, seemingly in reach of the summit. We passed trees covered in trinkets offered to the spirits by travelers, webs of prayer flags shading the path, and a creek bed covered in cairns built to direct one's soul toward heaven as it leaves the earth. It was as if the closer we got to the peaks, the stronger the connection to the earth was felt. An unexplainable sensation.

We reached the melting glaciers where members of the group refilled thier bottles and we basked in the sunlight. Melting ice chunks broke free and tumbled to the ground with echoing explosions. Ivan and I helped Kristi hang several strings of prayer flags, each for a dear friend. We then sat in this intricate web of colors, imagining all the billions prayers flying over the mountains and land into every part of this massive country and beyond. Its amazing how simple pieces of cloth on a string can evoke such a vast feeling of peace in one's mind and body. Far different from the flags hanging on the porches of dilapidated college homes. Yet now even those flags will remind me of their true meaning.
We discussed deep philosophical matters and simple moments of joy. Everything with an undertone of gratitude.
Once the sun set and another Chinese meal had satiated our bellies I joined some of the students in capturing the full moon's light upon the snowy peak. We experimented further with the use of our headlamps to create messages in the photos. Another teacher, LJ, was able to produce this photo for the school's blog. Pretty impressive.
We rested well that night and prepared for our hike out the next morning.

This experience will surely be one of my most memorable from our entire stay in China.

2009-02-17T05:39:00.002-07:00

Today I am frustrated and overwhelmed and tired and slightly cranky and confused and just wanting to run away. But you'll have that.

We over the half-way point in the semester and I am entering into material that I am not as well-versed in. Therefore, it takes me longer to prep for each class so that not only do I understand the topic, but that I can also convey this topic to my students. On top of this, we are trying to complete 3 more weeks of class before we leave China, making for several day and a half of classes. Less prep time for Susan. Some days I must opt out of kayaking to complete this, and others my day is just made up of a continual sequence of reading, writing, talking, eating, sitting on bus (reading more), kayaking, planning, eating...and so on. At the end of these days I brush my teeth and a huge smile covers my face as I know all I have left to do is crawl under my comforter and rest. The toy at the bottom of the cereal box.

These days are also exciting because I know it can only get easier. I write down my ideas to make this process easier next time around, I promise myself I will work on this and prepare a better and more interesting class for the next time around. Because I know I am good at this, I just need a bit of time to work out the kinks.