Tina's Journal - May 2001

May 10th, 2001

My first internet cafe...if you enter this statement into your calculator, download your bank account balance and read the resulting output you would be left with....a short message. Sorry.

5/5/01 Note to self: Do not listen to Sarah McLachlan when leaving all your friends and your home. That is unless you have a unconscious desire to be melancholy.

5/6/01 Eighties pop is awfully cheery and quite a nice accompaniment to driving around Seattle chowing on home-grown mung bean sprouts on a beautiful sunny day.

It was the kind of day that makes you feel silly for leaving the Pacific Northwest. Where else can you start knitting a new hat in a little yarn store in the morning and paddle around lake Union in the afternoon?

Note to all: Black sticky rice is GOOD. Get it next time you're in a Thai restaurant.

5/8/01 When my heart actually sped up as I caught sight of the I-84 South on-ramp, I knew I was an addict. Travelling becomes me. I revel in the feeling of freedom and adventure and the transition from the known to the unknown. Never has it felt so right, so good.

I dawdled in the high desert of the Idaho flatlands. I was on Route 20, East, a two-laned road, straight and narrow, speckled with a few scattered farm houses and cars. Dry, but blooming with springtime. Listening to The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood (thanks Annie!) I didn't want to reach a destination. I wanted to drive forever through this sage-covered land, alone, speeding down the pavement, wrapped up in a fictional world where their emotions were strong and became mine and I wiped tears from my eyes and thought about friendship and love and pain. I pulled over once, just to stand in the wind and look into the softly rolling hills to the North. I drove by the entrance to the Camas Marsh Wetlands, stopped and turned around. Finally slowing the gigantic beast that is my vehicle, I slipped down the dirt road, bordered by brown farmland on either side. Turning into the marsh I was alone with the birds, and strangely few insects. Two gigantic birds crossed the road in front of my car stepping from wet pool to hard-packed reddish dust to glistening pool. I believe they were whooping cranes. They even danced in the marsh.

5/9/01 Mary's house is fabulous. Sun Valley is mostly true to its name and I could never leave and feel happy.

5/14/01 - Upon further reflection, I think it was Mary herself rather than Sun Valley that made my time there so peaceful, relaxing and wonderful (plus the hottub, gorgeous house and grounds of course).

Quote of the day: "Life: get on up and ride it" - Viva, The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood

5/10/01 Sunscreen. Right. Oops.

5/11/01 One sunrise, 4 fill-ups, 5 quarts of oil, a depressing book, an entire Dixie Chicks tape (seemed appropriate, somehow, in Wyoming), a disturbingly large amount of splattered yellow butterflies, a surprising variety of gluten-free junk food; including, but not limited to, an entire package of frozen strawberries; one 45 minute rest/nap stop, 14 hours, 777 miles, one sunset and far too much desert later... BOULDER, CO.

Note to self: Try to get more than 5 hours of sleep before driving for an entire day. It makes the trip much more enjoyable.

Also: trucker's coffee isn't so bad, as long as you dilute it 1:4 with vanilla rice milk. Although, most likely the hippy-ness of that action will decrease its potency by at least one-twentyfifth...

5/12/01 Note to self: Try to get more than 5 hours of sleep before playing in an Ultimate tournament for nine hours... at altitude.

Right. And being in better shape probably wouldn't hurt either...

But I did discover that a few sips of Jagermeister doesn't really hurt your playing... Where else but Colorado would you have the rivalries of two teams named Absolut and Jager-monster? Sponsored by...yup you guessed it (replete with a shark, flag, Jagermeister T-shirts and this large, round squishy non-bean beanbag with exceedingly high gravity).

5/13/01 "Ow, ooh, ouch, groan..." "climbing? Sure I'll go climbing... but how 'bout something easy? And near the car? And could you lead? Sure, I'm fine... I always walk this way... Are you free in June? I'll be better by then... "

It was not a stellar day in my climbing career.

Ten exceedingly full days later I emerged from Leadville with only a sore throat - no blisters, injuries or other ailments (yes, I agree, very unusual...) I'm not even sore (besides the throat). I am, however, rather tired, which I'm sure has nothing to do with staying up rather late in a wood-fired sauna on the edge of a beaver pond at 10,500 feet, with several other souls who had also imbibed some...um...refreshments. I decided to leave when the person perched on the shelf above me started sweating more than I. It's one thing to be covered with sweat, it's quite another to get showered with someone else's perspiration.

What to say about new instructor training? (before I have to figure out where in the world I'm going to stay tonight - a park bench is looking rather inviting right now...). It was great - the organization is founded on some wonderful principles, the staff is enthusiastic and friendly and the training was the epitome of experiential. We were busy every minute, but we were also engaged at all times. There were meetings designed to make us think very seriously about our future responsibilities and activities that allowed us to bond and be creative. There were skits (as one Nepalese on my "patrol" said, "I should have taken acting classes before coming here!") and game shows and initiatives.

Then there was the "trip" - five days in the Collegiate Range. We hiked up to the Three Apostles and climbed Ice Mountain. It's just a few dozen feet short of 14,000 feet tall. Our route took us up a narrow, short gully, across a sloping snow field and up a couloir that required 7 fixed ropes. Definitely ice axe territory. I got to "solo" up the slope to dig trenches in which we bury pickets. Snow anchors are thankfully much simpler to create than rock ones. No-one got hurt but three of our group did not continue to the top due to the exposed, steep nature of the climb. Very interesting... Anyway, for those of you who are wondering (and I know some of you are) I did just fine; I believe, in fact, that I was the only one in our group that wasn't freezing cold. Plastic boots are your friend...

The rest of the trip was full of classes and cooking and sunning and being in denial of the fact that our tarp platform was now surrounded by a moat. And post-holing, but it was nothing compared to Wyoming. So, yeah, it all went great, I was given a positive review and classified as "in the zone" for an Assistant Instructor (i.e. no deficiencies). And none of my courses were cancelled.

Much, much better than working in a building...

Now, I just need some sleep.

Sleep? I wouldn't exactly say it's over-rated. My sore throat tells me differently (not to mention the rather rumpled and dazed look that I've been sporting lately). But I guess the old saying "I'll sleep when I'm dead" is more appropriate than I realized. I spent last night in Fort Collins with Jessie and about 10 of her college buddies. Too much fun for a sleep-deprived traveler. But who could turn down an offer to go white-water rafting with the FNG (new guides) even if it meant waking up at 6:45 AM? A class 3+ river is made infinitely more exciting when travelling in a raft guided by someone who's only run the river 3 times and this is his first without an experienced guide by his side. I'm sure we made an extremely professional impression on the paying clients when we all started screaming as we headed sideways towards the bridge pilings. Definitely worth the sleep deprivation.

We were off the river by 10 AM and after a fun lunch with some of Jessie's friends we spent the rest of the afternoon pretending that we could actually accomplish something (like climbing). Luckily a thunderstorm rolled in before we could finish setting up our top-rope so we could retreat to the house for guilt-free naps :)

Climbed the Bastille Crack this morning. A classic Colorado climb in Eldorado Canyon. Notable for its "off the road" start and long queues of aspiring climbers. Not a great climb if you don't like an audience... I believe that I single-handedly removed several parties from the waiting line by fumbling with my gear at every placement during the first pitch. Man, those cracks look way bigger than they really are! Either that or the cams just don't slim down as much as they used to. Regardless, I'm sure a few parties had a more enjoyable time on the route without the extra people who left the line-up... They'll thank me later...

5/28/01 I was in Boulder for the Bolder Boulder, an apparently well known 10K foot race, but I slept through the part Tom participated in (the "citizen's race") and watched the world-class professional racers on TV. A woman from Colorado won the women's race, beating out the favored Kenyans. When the stadium erupted in cheers as she ran the final lap carrying a small American flag, I felt especially pathetic for being a few miles from the race and watching it on the screen. Oh well. I consoled myself by watching MORE TV (after Tom left for some social occasion). It was rather a culture shock to be exposed to various insundry ads for hair remover and other beauty products. It makes you realize just how bombarded we are with images insinuating that we are not perfect and if we just had this Super-Space-Age-Instamatic-All-Natural-Echinacia-Gingko Bilboa-Vasodilator then our lives would be perfect and we would be having more sex than Lou Bega claims he does. No wonder people are insecure.

There also were ample messages about the Extreme Thunderstorm and Tornado Warning that was in effect for parts of Colorado. Since I didn't know exactly where they were in relation to me and it was raining outside, I became rather anxious. Then I decided that if I turned off the TV then I would be as informed as I normally am about Extreme Weather and could therefore return to being as concerned as I normally am about weather when I'm sitting in a house somewhere. Which is Not At All. That solved, I headed out in aforementioned weather, down to Denver.

Saw some cool lightning too!

5/29/01

I named the car Bruce today.

After a stop at the RMLC (Outward Bound's Rocky Mountain Logistics Center) I headed to Iowa. Everyone always complains about how unpleasant it is to drive across Nebraska, but I actually thought it was rather attractive; gently rolling hills, lots of farmland and quintessential Midwestern silos and farmhouses scattered throughout. Bruce particularly enjoyed cruising on the flats again. The steep hills had been quite a challenge for the lumbering giant, loaded down with all my junk.

Nebraska inspired a comforting feeling of food. The East and West coast are distinctly isolated from the growing fields of our country. We rarely are reminded of the vast amounts of land dedicated to producing all the staples from which so much of our prepackaged meals come. Think of all the pasta that starts out in Nebraska. It'll give you much more of an appreciation for that maligned state.

Interspersed with the corn and wheat fields, however, were also beef cattle farms and trucks full of feathered white objects, reminders of where the rest of your generic American meals come from. This was less comforting than the endless brown and green fields.

Illinois, Indiana, Ohio were not exciting. They were flat. It was dark when I reached Pennsylvania; after midnight when I crossed into NY state. Driving at night, however, was infinitely more exciting than driving during the day - especially in the (numerous) construction zones. They were full of dust and ghostly spotlights partially illuminating monstrous Jurassic vehicles. And cones - a nighttime obstacle course with no shoulders and very large, hulking trucks pacing you a foot off your door. I had my hands at ten and two for those periods...

Although I had warned Brielle that I might arrive at 4 AM, I felt a little bad about waking the house up that late. Luckily the streets weren't marked very well and there was a long detour through the rolling hills and narrow winding roads of the farthest reaches of Western NY state. I was 20 miles outside Corning NY at 3 AM - only an hour from Ithaca - when I decided to stop for a quick nap. Just me and about 40 truckers lined every conceivable parking space in the rest stop, their monotonous hum and glow filled the air with an eerie brooding presence. Two and a half hours later I woke up to golden streaks of sunlight peeking over the hills. I uncrumpled myself from the steering wheel and clutter that I had shoved onto the floor and took off, surprised that I, the stereotypical light sleeper, had managed to sleep for that long in the front seat of an Oldsmobile. The land was beautiful again - misty ponds and hills brilliant in their new green leaves. I started to recognize the landscape - distant memories awakening in the corners of my brain. I arrived in Ithaca at 7 AM, just as Brielle woke up. Her dogs greeted me Very Enthusiastically.

I woke up again when she came home for lunch at 1:30 and met her new foal - a 5 day old filly named Zip. We went to the Ithaca Festival Parade in the evening and I enjoyed it with every sense of being an alumna and a returning friend. I still meet people I used to know on the streets and still remember all the little stores and restaurants and places to go. And where else but Ithaca will you see the Dancing Volvos (replete with tutus), the Salsa Subarus (OK, I could see these in Bellingham (AKA Subaru-Land)) outfitted with giant fruit strapped to their roofs? As well as the Vehicle of Leisurely Persons (this combo truck-van was a gaily painted affair, with plenty of space available on the roof for reclining lawn chairs).