A Visit To The Farm

I stopped at a friends farm in Oregon on my way north. I am really impressed with what they have going on there. There are about six people growing food and hops and raising animals. The summer growing season is in full swing and I was kindly greeted with fresh food and goats milk.

The light from the early morning rays that hit the front fields is a soft yellow that I remember about Oregon from my past summer experiences. The legitimately cool summer air is refreshing knowing the temperature will rise and the heat will control your movements. The simplicity of things out there is apparent but nothing is for free. The work that goes into caring for the food and animals is immense. The reward is a full belly from there own harvest. My plans, when juxtaposed, seem silly with the timing all off as I drive north during the growing season to pick up students from an airport. I wish I could spend more time with my friends but my life right now is connected to a different land; the mountains of northern Washington.

Thoughts from the road

As I crested Sage Hen summit and got the first glimpse of the Sierra Nevada mountains I felt for the first time excitement. The past nine hours at the wheel alone thinking about my six week work contract in Washington and how I wouldn’t see my family for the duration had been hard. But what I realized as I crused down into the valley with the sierras looming ahead like a solid 14,000 ft wall was that I am not solely embarking upon a work contract, I am setting off on another opportunity to evolve further into the person I am and who i want to be and my family will benefit from this. Life lessons can be learned on the road if you are willing to listen. I am cleaning out the wax and preparing for six weeks of mountaineering, rock climbing and teaching in Washington state. What I take away from this assignment is hard to predict pre experience but I am willing to let myself be taken by the mountains and trust that what I learn may have a deeper meaning. Some call it work. Some call it play, but I call it a life of following my passion. I feel fortunate to have a family who supports me.

A Geologists Dream

Mexican Hat Rock in the distance, San Juan River

I always find desert rafting to feel like an oxymoron.  Traveling to the launch, all that can be seen is a desert expanse for miles.  An arid landscape carved by time.  In the desert southwest, one can’t help but be seduced by the colors and shapes of the rocks surrounding them. Without even realizing, travelers are inspired to become amateur geologists following the lines of color and folds in the landscape with their eyes, wondering how this land was formed.  I said oxymoron because when I drive, hike or run through this arid environment, I can feel the moisture being pulled form my body, in the way that a Deatheater, from the Harry Potter films, steals your soul.  It feels strange to think that a river, the life blood for living creatures, can exist in this environment, and then you see it as you round a bend in the road, that brown muddy looking water of the San Juan river flowing strong off in the distance.

Our Vessel, San Juan River

The San Juan river country in southern Utah is a geologist’s dream.  As you launch down the river the landscape is wide and flat, allowing for you and your fellow adventurers to soak up the desert sun and warm up your rowing muscles for the trip.  On this adventure I had the fortune of bringing along a group of enthusiastic college students from my Outdoor Education and Recreation course.   As this trip was an educational adventure we focused our conversation and learning on the environment in which we were traveling to build a greater connection and sense of place with the San Juan river.  As I stated before, “a geologist dream,” the San Juan is the perfect teacher in sedimentary rock formation, crustal uplift, folds, desert varnish, and erosion, not to mention the fact that this land was used and considered home by humans for hundreds of years, prior to western explorations.

The world renowned Butler Wash rock art panel, San Juan River

As we floated, bloated on food, talked natural history and laughed, it was not immediately obvious that the San Juan had taken control. As I rowed and kept my eyes trained on the water features to avoid hazards, I couldn’t help but let them wander to the beautiful sandstone walls that began to close in around us as the river entered a steeper canyon environment.  We began to see signs that people had been here before us, but not by the contemporary style of destruction and trash, but in an ancient way, one that recreationalists hope to stumble upon; these in the form of chiseled steps carved directly into the solid rock walls created by the ancient Puebloan’s to allow access through steep sandstone cliffs to gain higher ledges for dwellings and exits from the inner gorge. These ancient peoples marks have been left and preserved in this land for future adventurers to continue to marvel at.

As this arid land allows passage of this water, we must remember that water, the great eroder, has shaped most of the landscape that we see.  It is hard to fathom that something to soft as water can erode and destroy something so hard and durable as solid rock, but it does, and will continue to do so well beyond the last human to depart this planet.  As the modern San Juan cuts through this soft sandstone, taking with it small particles of silt and sand from the surrounding landscape, it is slowly changing the area on a geological timeline that humans have no ability to truly understand. The best we can do is to continue to marvel at this landscape, asking the question “how did this happen?”  Only when we allow our environment to teach us can we truly begin to learn.

The River House, San Juan River

As we allowed the river to be our teacher, our learning was rewarded with side hikes to see how these ancient peoples lived, communicated and expressed themselves through rock art and architecture.  The ancient Pueblo were known for their cliff dwellings; using naturally forming arches, caves and overhangs to act as the foundation for their elaborate cliff villages, these people built extensive structures rivaling todays apartment complexes. Hundreds of years ago, more so than now, humans were studying this landscape, learning about their environment and living harmoniously with it.

Our rafts carried us through rapids and passed big horn sheep.  We wound through the narrow sections of goose neck turns called entrenched meanders, where the river cuts through the rock in a snake like pattern.  We camped, ate and slept with the sound of the river, trying to imagine what it was like before the first western explorers journeyed down these waters.  Laughter became a theme as our little family grew closer and bonded with each laugh and river mile we experienced together.  The San Juan river has inspired our sense of adventure, grabbed ahold of our learning and won’t let go of our spirits.  Our newly formed connection and shared experience with this environment has again deepened my love of the desert and inspired me to seek out it’s water.

In the" Goose Necks," San Juan River

Please Forgive the Sabbatical

This blog has been unattended for some time now as I found it difficult to be inspired to write personally while completing my master’s degree. With my M.Ed. complete, I have regained enthusiasm for writing and am excited to again send out my words. If you are interested, please subscribe to this blog using the subscription button on the right. Below is just a quick post to get things started again while I edit other pieces.

Thanks for reading

-T

Just a quick thought about a great hike in Sedona, AZ:

Inside the Arch, Sedona AZ

I have hiked through the beautiful colors that make Sedona, Arizona so special for a few years now but just discovered a wonderful place in plain view! Right out of town there are a few trails you can use to create a classic loop hike and a classic day.

I should preface this by saying that a gentleman at one of the tourist/visitor shops in town tried to dissuade me from doing this adventure by saying “there is nothing to see there!” referring to the final short trail section that needs to be traveled to make this a loop. Boy was he wrong and he should be ashamed for saying so.

This hike affords beautiful views and spectacular geological sights! Along the way we traveled up through Smooth-bark Arizona Cypress trees with shinny green peeling bark to a unique desert mesa area with tall grass and the remains of an old forest fire. Dropping from the mesa we entered back into the forest and were surrounded by the greens, reds, oranges and yellows of the forest, rock and soil. These colors all mixed together is what continues to make me stumble and trip over my feet as I stare up at the walls and into the woods, not wanting to waste one second looking at my feet.

When hiking on the weekend you will run into a fair amount of people, but if you can escape to this wondrously close to town place during the day, then do it! Solitude in a busy and recreationally active tourist town is a difficult thing to find, but you can find it here. I still have traces of red dirt in my truck from hiking in Sedona and it reminds me of its beauty and how much I enjoy each trip to Sedona.

The Seven Sacred Pools, Soldiers Pass Trail, Sedona, AZ

The Link Up: From the Trailhead at the end of Jordan Rd in Sedona, AZ, hike the Brins Mesa trail, then link that up with the Soldiers Pass Trail passing beneath a few amazing arches that you can climb up into! (Hike a well traveled trail for about 1/4 mile uphill, about 4 feet wide at the start, at a small wilderness boundary sign on the east side of the trail, crossing over three medium sized logs discouraging travel). After returning from the arches you can link Soldiers Pass trail, passing the seven pools and devils sinkhole (or kitchen) to Cibola trail and then back to your car.

For great detailed info check out Todd’s Desert Hiking Guide www.toddshikingguide.com

Wet Suits are Weird, but Canyoneering is Fun

Chris and Ted getting pumped up in the early morning cool air with half our wet suits on

I am really not a huge fan of hiking long distances. I will admit I love the peacefullness of being alone in nature and traveling at a speed that is compatable with it, but just going out and hiking, let’s say for fitness, is really not my cup of tea. It all started with research I was doing for work, about different land based activities that would have transferable skills to and from technical rock climbing. I was sitting on the floor of the library like I do, dispite the looks I always get cross legged and shoeless leaning up against the book racks, looking over a few rock climbing guides when I saw this brand new book on technical canyoneering. It was a red book and so naturally it caught my eye and I started flipping through it. I met my friend Chris for lunch at a thai place in town, when I showed him the book he started drooling over some of the excursions that were in our own Arizonian backyard. Right there we started planning a trip for the following weekend.

Looking down one of the longer rappels in the narrow section of Horsetank wash, AZ

Now most of the routes described in the book required a fair amount of hiking and I was a bit skeptical at first, but the thought of adding rock climbing gear and creating a “technical hike” kind of excited me. Something new I started telling myself! It had been awhile since I had learned a new “sport” or or started a new hobby, it was a refreshing thought. As the weekend neared, I started to have concerns about the weather, a pattern of thunderstorms had been moving throught northern Arizona, right where we intended to go. Now one place you do not want to be, in a heavy rainstorm or shortly there after in the desert, is a narrow canyon, and that was the type of canyon we had hopes of traveling through. Flash floods are serious hazards in canyon country. After a large rainstorm the water moves quickly over the dry soil, and with little vegitation to hold the ground in place and soak up water, it speeds to the low spots and drainages, often times in huge walls of water filled with dead logs and mud and the ocasional cow.

Not wanting to waste the planning we had done, we decided to at least go check out the canyons and camp out, we could make a better decision once we were there and able to properly asses the situation. We drove north from Prescott and down into the Verde Valley, and up again until we reached the edge of the Colorado Plateau, a large geographical land feature that can be seen from space.

The Mogellon rim is the edge of the Plateau and is filled with tons of drainages, that moves water off of the plateau and down into the Verde Valley and into the Verde River. After about an hour and a half of driving in heavy rain we reached our turn off. We instantly realized we had not planned for everything, and I was glad we had taken Chris’ truck. There are millions of dirt roads in Arizona, leading to places unknown, but that dirt quickly turns to heavy mud, and we were in it. The trip quickly became more exciting as we began the mudding approach to our canyons. To make matters more interesting most of the roads were rough, with volcanic rocks strewn about. I felt like a passenger in the monster truck Big Foot, from my childhood, crushing tiny cars, flash bulbs going off all around me. With all of the mud sticking to the tires and the need for traction over tricky rock manuvers, we made a habit of stopping every few hundred feet and scraping the mud from the tires with rocks, washing our hands and getting back into the truck with the utmost attention, not to get mud all over the upolstry inside Chris’s truck.

Chris rappeling the longest drop about 90ft into the narrows, Horsetank Wash, AZ

With a bit of luck and lots of scrapping we reached our camp site, near the start of the first canyon, Horsetank wash. This adventure would take us deep into Horsetank through a long narrow section in the canyon and past four to six rappels, where it would meet up with Sandrock Canyon and we were to start hiking up canyon and over rocks back to our truck. As soon as we got to our camp the rain let up and the weather started to look good. We were out there and the pictures we had seen of this canyon were beautiful. Dinner was cooked we set up out tent and set our alarms for 5AM, as this canyon was supposed to take between 12 and 14 hours!

When I heard the alarm go off it felt like I had slept for only a few minutes and I was so relieved to hear rain outside. The sound of rain on a your tent is one of the most soothing sounds there is and I almost fell a sleep instantly, but not before I grunted at Chris and he grunted back, indicating that he too thought we should wait it out a bit and we fell asleep. About two hours later we were moving out of the tent, making coffee, eating and sorting the gear we would each carry.

Chris and I under one a beautiful waterfall, West Clear creek, AZ

We embarked down the road and into the canyon, slipping and sliding on wet forest underbrush and mud. Our shoes were sticking to the earth making the hiking hilarious and we soon opted for the duck wattle as the supreme style of mud walking. The weather was getting better and we knew the pattern of these thunderstorms was to come in the afternoon, so we decided to go for it. It was a chilly morning and I was deffinatly not ready for the first pool of water we had to wade through. As we would soon find out, all of the canyon pools were much deeper due the the weeks rain and we were in for a real adventure. I admit I screamed a bit as I walked deeper into the first pool until it was about chest deep. All it really takes is one pool to get you wet and things become ok. I made peace with the fact that my shoes would be wet for the remainder of the weekend and the cool water was kind of refreshing, but only because we had on full body wet suits. The narrows came quickly and we scrambled and slid and down climbed into the depths of the canyon. We reached the first rappel and started to think creatively, building our anchor we were to rappel down on. This first rappel was really fun, water was pouring down on me as I descend and it ended in a pool of water, that only swimming would free you from. I felt like a kid at a water park, there were slides into pools of water and rocks to jump off from, there were logs to crawl over, not to mention the beautiful scenery. Horsetank Wash was beautiful but it soon ended so we took off our wet suits and made our way back to the truck. I was born a fast walker and Chris was trained as a child on the east coast by being pulled through shopping malls and parking lots by his mother and might even be faster so when we reached the truck after the full canyoneering loop five and a half hours later I wasn’t to surprised, but I was sure relieved to be done walking for the day.

This is why we brought wet suits and PFD's, chilly water in these shadded canyons, West Clear creek, AZ

The road out went without a hitch and the road into our other project went smooth as well. We were able to hang out enjoy a few adult beverages and cook up dinner just in time for cooler temps and light rain that turned into heavy rain as I dashed with the down sleeping bag into the tent. That nights sleep was well earned and I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The following morning I was surprised to see we hadn’t floated away with all of the rain and our experience from the day before told us we were going to be wet. All of the same gear was packed, the rope had not dried out and it was easily 20 pounds wet, and we added one other key piece of equipment, PFD’s, or personal flotation devices. The book said we were in for some long swims and we were not about to be uncomfortable or rushed through enjoying our time in a beautiful place.

The rappels were not as spectacular but the scenery was wonderful and after a short one mile detour to retrace my steps after loosing my camera and then finding it again we continued on and down to West Clear Creek.

One of us entering into The "White Box"

West Clear Creek was the reason we chose this adventure.  There are multiple swims, beautiful cascading waterfalls, and a narrow section called the “White Box.”  Our first step into the creek was into a deep pool and a long swim.  With the help of the PFD we floated easily and were able to enjoy ourselves.  Everytime I stood up after a long swim I felt like the creature from the black lagoon, with water dripping off of my wet suit and pouring out of the holes in my heavy pack.  The rope water logged from continous soakings.  It became comical as we walked on slipery rocks, falling over every few feet, banging our ankle bones, but it was worth it.  The narrow section or the “White Box”  was a trip, we swam for what felt like 45 minutes, the elementry backstroke was the stroke of choice, I was able to relax and float and look around.  Swimming and jumping off rocks were the main activities, and the water was deep and cold but the weather was nice and the sun warmed our faces.  Finally we came to the trail that led us up and out of the canyon and back to the truck, up 1,000 feet on a steep trail and then a dirt road.

Chris showing how to pose in his wet suit as he tries to pull out Excallaber

It was funny, I went up to rim country thinking we would maybe camp and turn around because of the potential for a flash flood, but the weather opened up for us perfectly and we were able to enjoy an isolated place far from civilization, out there all alone, just friends adventures and fun.  Technical canyoneering is now on my radar and I keep thinking about all of the new places I can explore, a whole new world has opened up even if I have to do a bit of hiking, now and again.

Mountains as the Teachers

Forbidden Peak just in the clouds the day after the attempt, North Cascades National Park, Boston Basin, WA

We had reached the rock outcrop below the base of the route.  The weather was moving in and any further upward progress would commit us to a more challenging retreat.  We had been moving since 3:30AM and a decision to stop now would be a difficult one to digest.  We had heard so many great things about this mountain and every one of the members of the climbing party had attempted two other times to climb Forbidden Peak.  Today the way may remain forbidden for us all.  Our team leader called us together below the base of the couloir; she had a disappointing look on her face.  She truly wanted this attempt to be successful.  She wanted us to feel the same excitement and elation upon a successful summit attempt and safe return back to camp, that she had felt the first time she had climbed this peak.  Today that wasn’t our reality.

The view into the Valley just before we were swallowed by clouds, below Forbidden Peak, WA

At that moment, when it was official, we were turning around going back to camp, “live to climb another day” as they say, I was proud.  Our leader, my leader for this days attempt was also my student.  She had spent the last eight weeks with her peers in the backcountry of Alaska and northern Washington, studying leadership and practicing skills to keep herself and her future clients or students safe while traveling in the mountains.  Throughout her summer studies our leader, her peers, and Instructors were successful on many other summit attempts.  She had learned a plethora of new skills and was putting them into action everyday leading up until now.  Over the duration of the course our leader had focused on her own leadership style as well as received constructive feedback from her classmates after her scheduled leadership days where she was in charge of the big picture within the course.

She is an ever evolving book, pages could be added, and sentences could be dropped to refine her personal leadership handbook.  With all of this training, standing there below the classic alpine climbing route on Forbidden peak, it was still a difficult decision to make.

“Well folks I think we should gather our last views and prepare to descend, this is as far as we are going today”

Alpine vegetation in the Boston Basin, NCNP, WA

The climbing party reacted positively to the decision, they trusted their leader and they wouldn’t question her, because they knew she had made this decision for their safety.  The following few moments were filled with small discussions on how she had come to this decision and then silence as we all gazed down on the valley that was quickly being swallowed by clouds.

The descent was more challenging than expected as now the clouds had covered the way and visibility had reduced to about 100ft, as we were officially in the clouds.  My thoughts turned to our approach when I started to notice the low level clouds moving into the valley an hour ago.  I knew we wouldn’t make it very far that day but the decision wasn’t mine to make.  My job was to act as a safety officer, to step in before something dangerous happened, as if I was a ghost Instructor.  A resource if needed but at this stage in the summer course the students were empowered with all the responsibilities of a paid guide or educator, so getting a little wet in the clouds wasn’t a big deal.

Our first glimpse of camp on the descent in the low visibility

By the time we reached camp we were quite damp after the slightly scenic route we took back, but we were safe and all hazards we had encountered had been managed appropriately without the need for me to step in.  At that moment I was proud to be an educator.

Moments like these that I have while teaching college students are what keep me inspired.  It’s challenging sometimes to just stand back and take your hand out of the pot and let the students run the kitchen, but it’s rewarding and refreshing when you watch some of your own students walk away and know they are competent and safe.  They might not know all of the answers, heck I don’t, but I know they are set up for success for future situations when learning opportunities present themselves or difficult decisions are encountered along their path.

Ted with Students behind during a skills workshop, with majestic Johannesburg in the background, North Cascades National Park, Boston Basin, WA

There Is No Other Place In The World Like Iceland

For starters, and I have read this quote from a geologist that studied in this country but, Iceland is like no other place on Earth!

Colby with the Ice cap Vatnajokull behind her in Skaftafell National Park.

Colby, my partner in adventure, and I embarked on a week long excursion east into the heart of southern Iceland. It began and ended with a beautiful bus ride along the coast, we passed steep cliffs covered with sharp bright green vegetation, moss and alpine tundra plants in yellows and greens, pinks and blues. I thought this when I was in Alaska, but Iceland’s vastness in landscape is so inspiring that you could stand for hours and just observe whats around you.   Maybe this observation comes from my ever evolving self that is moving from talking all of the time to observing my surroundings and trying to be more attune to my environment. Or maybe its from teaching, giving my students the space to learn and not feeling the need to solve their problems, knowing that their experience is whats important and I am a guide on their path. Whatever it is Iceland has brought out my inner observer and this country gives me gifts daily.

Iceland´s beauty, Skaftafell National park

Skaftafell National Park lies south of the mighty Vatnajokull glacier. I should first explain that in Iceland everything has a name, not just the peaks and rivers but everything and one who might struggle with reading maps already, might find it hard to see the topographic symbols on the map behind all of the place names. It is not for confusion, as I see your thought bubble emerging, but because the people of Iceland are connected to their country.  Not like people from the US, as in Proud to be an American, but they, like the Norwegian people believe that they are part of their environment, not above it to use it as they see fit. Humans are a PART of this whole system we call Earth.  Anyways, Vatnajokull is the largest glacier in Europe, as Iceland is considered part of Europe. Really this glacier is an ice cap, its the size of Connecticut so that’s pretty big. When you are in its presence you are dominated by it. You awake to this glacier and go to sleep with it as your last sight. You feel the cold ice winds coming off of it when you are near it and you can hike for hours and you never pass it by, but only change your perspective of its beauty.

Svartifoss Waterfall, Skaftafell National Park

We spent two nights camping in the park, and with our full day there we went on a long 17km hike.  The hike started in the thick stunted alpine forest, past Svartifoss waterfall and symmetrical basalt columns. The trail continued up into more of an alpine zone with small low vegetation, only the strong plants that can survive in this environment. It sounds bare but in reality this area, like most of the country is very moist because of its relation to the coast. Plenty of precipitation for green to grow. The trail moved through many colors, reds and oranges and greens. The geology of the country is predominantly volcanic so even the sedimentary rocks are created from volcanic material so a lot of the mountains are a dark gray or black to the eye, which creates an intense contrast with the vegetation. We continued on this trail viewing two other arms of the glacier, one of these, when you look at it, is all you can see for miles like looking out into the sea. We scrambled up to a mountain pass where the wind was bitterly cold and then descended the other side for a change of scenery and another arm of the  glacier and a view of the cloudy, glaciated peak that is the highest in Iceland. As we finished our hike we were in awe of this place. We only saw a fraction of the National Park and Vatnajokull but our souls are richer for the experience.

Mornings here have not been our strong suit, as we have the opinion that we are on vacation. The lack of darkness doesn’t help either. However, we have no intention of spending the trip in our sleeping bags and for some of these remote places in the country, the buses only leave once or twice a day and getting stranded is not in our plan. That being said there has been a fair bit of stumbling around and tripping over guy lines on the tent some of these early mornings, but have no fear we are enjoying even those moments, at least after the fact.

Scrambling above Vatnajokull glacier, Skaftafell National park

The bus shows up and we notice that this bus unlike the last, has huge tires and is lifted like a off road vehicle. Hmm… We soon realize as we leave the pavement that only the major roads are paved and most towns are really out there.  So unless you have a rock crushing, river crossing 4×4 vehicle you are left behind. Our next destination is Landmannalaugar which will be the start of our four day trek across the volcanic mountain to the south to Thorsmork. Back to the road, the novelty really never wore off of crossing rivers in public transportation. We would just drive right up and into some of these rivers that were maybe four feet deep! No problem for the bus though! Keep on crushing and plowing through the glacier melt rivers.

View of Landmannalaugar from in the lava field

Landmannalaugar is beautiful and it is impossible to compare to anywhere else but reminded me our our home in the desert of Arizona with the colors and familiar volcanic rock. The difference is the many hot springs and sulfur vents shooting steam into the cool mountain air. We arrived in the afternoon and after using our credit cards for some food for the trail in the most remote of places we pack up for the trail.

Side note, they have satellite credit card machines everywhere, I mean everywhere, the taxi, on the bus, the vending machines, even in the snowy mountain huts can you use your credit card to pay for camping! We signed our name in the safety log book and started the trail that evening, knowing there was no darkness to be caught by.

First day of our trek, with stream rising behind us from a sulfur vent

Our trail began crossing a large lava field from an old volcanic event, we past sulfur vents and climbed up rhyolite ridge lines. The weather was wonderful but we could see the low clouds in the high mountains and continued on. Fog, or really low clouds stuck in the mountains covered the trail continuously, making navigation fun and challenging.  Since this trail is traveled by many people each year and we saw a fair amount, there are sticks in the ground to guide the way, but you always need to keep a keen eye out in the fog as not to get turned around.  We started to cross snow along the path and since Colby and I really didn’t research the conditions of the trail before hand we just shrugged it off and had some fun with it in our low top hiking shoes.

As we continued further on the fog got heavier and the snow more abundant, but luckily the snow was consolidated , consistent with a summer snow pack and our feet stayed dry.  The hike that day was about 10 km and just like in the movies where the marooned ship sees land, however much less dramatic because we were quite comfortable, we caught a glimpse of the mountain hut in the fog.  After we swiped our credit card for the camping fee and use of the bathroom with running water, we set up our tent made some soup as a warm up before dinner and settled in.

Moving into the clouds

The next morning we woke to the same weather and rallied to get our damp belongings together and into our pack.  This day was amazing, yes more fog but also fun snow sections, crossing what they call snow chasams which you can fall into, and past more sulfur vents.  As we descended out of the clouds we were awarded with rain forest conditions without the tall vegetation but with the plentiful green plants and moist air.

You know all that crispy cold glacier water you drink? My feet have been in it!

The mountain creeks were flowing with snow melt and we quickly realized were were going to have to cross a few of these creeks barefoot to keep our shoes dry!  If only there was a mountain creek to cross as each of us got out of bed each day, the world would be awake and caffeine would be unnecessary.  We made it through all the hazards and the hut that night was by a beautiful alpine lake which reflected the mountain scape behind it.  We set up camp and retired for the night.

The next day was more of the same rain forest feel for the first half with plenty of numb feet crossings.  The second half of the day was through a dry desert of sorts, but a black desert, as the sand was crushed basalt, grey and dramatic.  After awhile it felt a bit like beach floundering but we were taken by the landscape and our feet could rest later.  The day ended at the final marvelous hut and we laid in the sun before dinner and rest.  That evening after dinner we went for a short hike to a marvelous canyon with colors to drop any jaw and a drop of about 180 meters to a roaring river cutting through geologic time.

Standard 4x4 river crossing

The fourth day we woke early and gathered our things, we needed to catch a bus on the other end and didn’t want to rush ourselves on the hike.  Down we went out of the high mountains and into the lower foothills across grass valleys and through larger rivers as now the mountain creeks had accumulated into larger rivers.  Still cold!  Our trek ended in Thorsmork a region in the foothills 50km south of where we started and we celebrated our adventure with another bus ride.

Again the bus river crossings would sometimes look impossible, thinking we would surely tip over but then you would see the calm driver and feel reassured.  That final day was long starting with a 15km hike, then the 3 hour bus ride back to Reykjavik, the capital city and to the city campground where we and other travelers call our temporary home.  It has been a whirlwind the last few days but we are loving every moment of it here in Iceland.  Today called for a relaxing afternoon soaking in the famous blue lagoon where the water is as blue as the Caribbean sea and the silica mud makes for an age defying mask!

The secret to staying young, a tip from Iclanders

Our travels will continue this next week into the north west of the country into the Westfjords region of Iceland, hopefully involving ferry rides in the Denmark strait between Greenland and Iceland and a bit of hiking along the dramatic sea cliffs.  All is well in Iceland and we send our love home to those reading.

Like little Pixies

A Journey Down the Colorado River

 

Ted at the helm nearing the Grand Wash Cliffs

Every time the gear gets packed for a trip as short as a Diamond down, Diamond Creek to Lake Mead on the Colorado River, I wish I was rafting the whole Grand Canyon from Lee’s Ferry to Lake Mead, all 296 miles.  The logistics seem crazy during the early stages, gear, shuttle, permit, $$$, food, huge trailer to carry all of the food and gear, but then I get to the launch and see the Colorado river, this time running bright green, and the excitement is high and any reservations I may have had are gone.  It has been worth all of our work.  The heat from the death star drags us down while we rig our boats tight and true, but then we eat a burrito and all energy  is regained and everything seems fine.

You shove off and the rest of your busy life disappears and its only you and the deep inner gorge of the Grand Canyon.  There is nothing to do now but enjoy the surroundings and read the water, scout rapids as they come and slow your life down.  The Colorado gives you a splash to cool off as you pass through Diamond Creek rapid and the only thing that is allowed from now on is fun and excitement.

If you have never been down to the Colorado River in Grand Canyon, take a long hike, hire a guide and learn about the canyon.  If you prefer fresh food and lots of it, less walking, and the occasional adult beverage, then rafting could be your thing.  Whatever you want to bring with you will fit on your boat, a bit lavish you say?  Maybe, but it’s rafting and that’s the culture.  This trip we decided to bring a motor as well to make the flat water a bit more enjoyable and we wanted to get our bodies into shape, one in particular, round.  What justifies all of the gear for me is the environment and the enjoyment of using human power through the rough and tough rapids.  Being able to study the hydrology of the river as it heads down stream is beautiful.  How the water moves in flat sections or speeds up in constrictions and better yet when it is forced to avoid objects or move all of its mass through a tight constriction, creating the splashes we all love.  Reading water really is an art, especially if your floating with the water and choosing your own path.

A peaceful moment in Travertine Canyon

We let the water stay its course as we checked out a beautiful side canyon with a waterfall.  Travertine Canyon is a slot canyon about 15 feet wide and flowing with just the right amount of water so it is possible to walk up stream to the base of the falls.  The water temp in Travertine creek is warm compared to the dam released frigid waters of the Colorado.  The water does the talking here in this canyon and I found myself content sitting and thinking about nothing, allowing myself to let go of all the distractions and focus on the now, the rocks, the beauty and the people I am with.  Those are the moments that constantly remind me why I love what I do.  

 

Not all inspiring moments are serene and majestic for me, the others moments, in this case, are the waves that crash in my face and the screams of joy from the people in my boat.  Water never looks so big as when you are about to hit a huge wave and its right on top of you as you are looking up at it.  White water rafting is not for the weak at heart and you would be surprised at how many medical heart issues commercial companies deal with each year.  

Early morning at Travertine Falls, within the inner gorge of the Grand Canyon

The first night we spent at Travertine falls, a short paddle from Diamond Creek, staged for the rapids the following day. The major rapids are all together on this section of the Colorado and so it makes for an exciting day.  Rapids 231, 232 A.K.A. Killer Fang Falls, 234, Bridge, Gneiss.  All of the tight rigging and preparation for this day was well worth it as we plunged into the white water and filled our lungs with aerated water.  Water crashed and poured over rocks, our ride was intense as we crested waves then quickly moved to calmer waters, thankful to have all passengers still aboard.  The rapid section went smoothly and we celebrated our exciting morning.  We camped that night at a place called Separation Canyon, where three members of the original 1869 John Wesley Powell expedition separated from the group.  They called it quits above a major rapid to hike to the unscouted north rim three days before the rest of the expedition exited the Grand Canyon, and reached the mouth of the Virgin river and civilization.  These three men were killed, and there are a few conspiracy theories as to who killed them, but now there is a bronze plaque to remember them here at Separation Canyon.

Separation Canyon marks the line where we can use our motor and cover the flat water sections early in the morning, and so we did.  Forty miles of flat water on our horizon with beautiful rocks of all colors all around us.  

Cruising Lake Mead in style

Wildlife and historical artifacts also keep our attention as we move down towards Pearce Ferry and it’s New Rapid.  This rapid is ever evolving and as the water level slowly lowers in lake Mead it could one day be unrunable, there is no way of knowing what the river will expose as time goes by.  This rapid is the only rapid that truly gives me the feeling of how John Wesley Powell might have felt as he scouted each rapid with his men.  When you come up to it for the scout you are looking at something that has never been seen before all of the information you may have received was from the past and you are looking at the evolved present.  It is an impressive sight to see.  We get out oars back in the water, lots of splashes and big hits and then it is over within a hot minute and success, we have made it through.   Relief overwhelms us, this rapid has been in our sights for weeks, flipping boats in our dreams.  A Caribbean like sand beach camp was waiting for us as our reward for a long and safe day.

 

Early Morning our final day on a beautiful sand beach

 

 

Early to bed, early to rise is the river life I like, the sun dictates our schedules out here and so we load boats and continue down to Lake Mead and through a few new ripples and to the take out at South Cove.  While reflecting on my trip I think back to those screams of joy and the smiles on peoples faces as we raged through rapids, and I cherish those moments of focus, without distraction, when I was observing my surroundings and falling asleep to the sound of water.

The Grandest Classroom of all

The Grand Canyon from within

When someone says the word classroom, I think most of us cringe to remember a time when we had to raise our hand from our tiny little desk in a room full of construction paper and gold stars just to seek permission to use the restroom.  If permission was granted it was like someone had blessed us from above and we could miss 3 minutes of homeroom or American History.

Student giving a lesson on the history of mining in the Grand Canyon in front of a mine on Horseshoe Mesa 

 

 

 

 

In my line of work I find that the best classrooms are the ones that mother nature has created for us.  They are the places where we can learn from what is around us and form a connection with that place so we can learn it’s language.  When I think of the Grandest classroom of all I think of the Grand Canyon.  You want history?  Time has been laid out in front of our eyes with the beautiful and colorful layers of rocks that make Grand Canyon.  Forget what happened in the 16 century, the Grand Canyon SHOWS us 1.84 billion years ago, that is an amount of time that no human can begin to comprehend!  Geology alone could occupy your entire life just studying in the Grand Canyon.  You want cultural studies?  We can first start with the multitude of international travelers right at the rim.  One can mingle with peoples from all over the globe.  Secondly you can travel to the Haulaipai Indian reservation and visit special places that most tourists never see and interact with wonderful people.  You can study the ancient peoples of the Grand Canyon that date back to the Basketmakers and the Anasazi people.  Grand Canyon truly is a Grand Classroom.

 

Camp at Cottonwood Springs

I spent the past weekend with my students hiking down and up the Grandview trail on a two night field trip.  There are few places in the canyon where you find perennial water sources.  Ours was Cottonwood springs to the west of horseshoe mesa.  Our trip started with a journey through geologic time as a way of getting to know the canyon.  The students studied the different kinds of rock in detail as we descended into the depths of northern Arizona.  There are limestones and sandstones, schists, shales and granitic rocks.  Each layer introduced itself through its colors and texture and composition, through its vegetation or lack there of.  Horseshoe mesa introduced us to some of its historical mining artifacts and a few mines that have since been filled in.  The weather was fair, heading towards interesting so we made our way to camp just in time for the wild winds and rain that would put us to sleep.

 

A look into the inner gorge of the Grand Canyon

Our morning consisted of time travel as we once again walked through layers of rock and gazed into the inner gorge of the canyon where the mighty Colorado River cuts through the 1.84 billion year old Vishnu Schist that is stripped with pink migmatite.  One of my favorite places to adventure in that area of the canyon is a cave situated on the west side of the mesa in the redwall limestone layer, and so it seamed only fair that this be the days main objective and that I introduce my deserving students to this place.  Seven moles with lights affixed to their helmets ventured deep into the redwall layer, covering themselves with dirt and army crawling through squeeze holes and passageways to far away rooms covered with natural decorations.  The time came when we craved the light again and so we made our way to the entrance following the maps we drew in our minds.  We were greeted by thunder and hail as we exited the cave and it seamed like a good time to head back to our camp and make dinner and relax after a learning filled day.

On our way uphill, I started to think about the small things we miss in life when we breeze through a place so fast.  Modern times have made most daily tasks or errands faster and easier with new technology that we, unfortunately “forget to stop and smell the roses.”  The Grand Canyon, I believe, is a testament to a time when life was simple and your daily errands were stripped down to basic human needs.  The hike out from anywhere in the Grand Canyon is hard but the canyon teaches you to slow down, it forces you to look around and notice your surroundings, to watch the vegetation change as you hike up, or to look deeper into the rock layers as you rest and drink water and to be overwhelmed with the views that you are blessed with.  Grand Canyon is a place where humans feel small and you leave wanting to come back.

Prickly Pear cactus in bloom

Moab, UT

Moab Utah is HOT!  even in March.  Leaving our little town in Arizona, we headed north to Utah for some laser cut vertical sandstone cracks to climb.  We had a few projects in mind for climbing, but what we really wanted was a vacation.  What do you do for vacation when you work in Adventure Education, when you rock climb, whitewater raft, backpack, and canoe for a living?  I guess you just pick one of those activities, that you love and wish you were doing more of personally instead of for work.  So that’s what we did, rock climbing in the heart of canyon country, Edward Abby country.

I will admit that climbing on sandstone is difficult if all you are used to is beautiful white and pink granite and the ocasional basalt crag.  The handholds and footholds act so much differently.  The sandstone would lightly sprinkle beach down on me as I climbed and rubbed the rock with my every move, I felt less secure, not always because of the quality of the sandstone but because of how it forms footholds and acts underneath your foot.  My eyes have been trained to see micro edges of exfoliating granite, like layers of and onion and constrictions or bottle necks in cracks to place hands and feet so I can continue ascending.  This sandstone has fractured in a way that seams unnatural, manmade even.  A passer by would stare and wonder how that crack became so parallel, and then loose control of their jaw muscles to see a person gracefully, or not, climbing that fracture.  The climbing in and around Moab is world class, there is Indian Creek, known for its laser cut cracks, south of town outside of Canyonlands National Park.  There are hundreds of desert spires, red, orange and white, spread throughout castle valley and in Arches National Park.  There are even road side crags where you can sit on your tail gate and watch your partner climb from 5 feet away.  For the rock climber, Moab is a destination that must be vistited at least once.

Moab IS the place for outdoor recreation.  The Colorado river flows just north of town and offers boaters miles of beautiful scenery and splashy rapids.  The river is lined with camp sites for every type of recreationalist.  It is not uncommon to look around a camp site and see a family of rock climbers, one parent cooking dinner as the kids run wild and the other parent organizing their gear for the early morning climbs they will introduce their children to.  Next to that family you might see good old boys, families or sets of best friends out with their ATV’s and dirt bikes, license plates from northern states, making pilgramige to the slickrock trails of Moab.  But what you see the most of are the bicyclists, road and mountain bikers that have come down to ride the trails that only Moab has to offer, some of them came down here years ago and have never left.  You can walk the streets of Moab and see a bike rack at the coffee shop in the early morning and be stunned by how many bikes fill that rack, and further more none of these thousand dollar bikes are locked up!  It seems to be a town of trust, a town where people come to visit or live, a place where recreation is the law and the people are relaxed and healthy.

Where I climb locally I rarely ever see anyone else outside.  In Moab on the other hand, unless you are hiking into a faraway project you might be waiting in line for one of the classic climbs of that area.  Not my cup of tea.  It seems that with the reputation of being a so called climbing mecca, you also get the pilgrims.

The weather in Moab was beautiful and the climbing was grand, but it made me miss home and miss the places where people are not.  Thats brings up and interesting discussion topic for me.  How do we protect our recreation areas from over use or development, when it requires spreading the word about these beautiful places so that people will join the fight to save them, which in turn brings more trafic to an area which creates a higher impact on that place?  It’s a catch 22.  I try and focus then on the preventitive.  What is our responsibility to the environment and our special places?  What are our responsibilities as recreationalists for now and the future generation to come?