Happy Thanksgiving! And an Update.

To my friends, some of whom I have not seen in years, some of whom I have recently had the pleasure of visiting: As I relocate every six months or so, I miss the friends I have been incredibly lucky to meet along the way... I met you in New Jersey, New York, Colorado, Pennsylvania, Washington and Abroad. Even Montana, Florida, California and more. As I think about our good times together, I wonder, would you be willing to share with me an update about your life? If you are curious, here's some news about mine...

Spring started with a leap westward, to Leavenworth, Washington, to a job for a whitewater rafting company. The new job title, Director of River Yoga Retreats, sounded amazing, but in reality, was not all that glamorous. Never the less, I met some fun river guides and explored Leavenworth. Whitewater, climbing and skiing surround the little, Bavarian-style town. I even reunited with my long-time river guide friend, Jamie Weaver, who has been guiding on the Wenatchee and other nearby rivers for several seasons. She will soon begin studying to be an environmental engineer, a career that suits her nature-hippy core. And she's a mechanic! Having someone like her tend our natural resources would be a relief to my mind.

Fate had a funny way of turning me back to Colorado. After only a few weeks in Washington, I was offered a dream job, one that I had been pursuing for over a year... River Ranger. With tent and kayaks packed, my rickety old truck, Bessy Mae, carried me along another migration, this time to the Western Slope of Colorado. As I drove through Washington, I visited my friend Philippe, a Climbing Ranger at Mount Rainier National Park. We skied in June, one peak across from the massive, white Mount Rainier. As luck brought me through Utah, I also got to visit more river guides. Clark and Kelly Gallo are long-time kayakers and snowboarders who relocated near the Wasatch Mountain Range in pursuit of ultimate powder. They are an amazing couple who get to work and play together... Congrats to the new home-owners. I hope to build a loving relationship that works as well as theirs, someday.

My summer went by quickly as I settled into the role of River Ranger for the Bureau of Land Management. Almost every workday was spent on the Gunnsison River. The best parts of the job were driving big, new, government trucks on remote, dirt roads and frequent kayaking. I worked with a crew of five other rangers, the most gentlemanly river-folk... A cowboy, a sandy-haired ski bum, a red-bearded sage, a noble officer, and a big-smiled, tropical traveler. They took great care of me as I learned my new job.

We patrolled in pairs. Our most frequent patrol was a two-day trip which began with an epic, off-road shuttle drive, then a hike. We carried our kayaks and gear on our backs, down a mile-long trail into the Gunnison Gorge. The gorge is a delicate, wild place: desert cactus and pinion junipers up-high, lush riparian grasses and willows down-low along the river. About halfway down the 14 mile stretch of river, we spent our nights camped in a teepee on the sandy beach. Shooting stars were frequent and dazzling. With the coming of autumn, the numbers of fisherman began to dwindle and the timid desert big horn sheep came down from their rocky cliffs to drink from the river as we floated by.


As the seasons change, so do my jobs. I have been thoroughly enjoying the fall interim between river job and ski job. This fall was full of exciting firsts. I participated in my first elk hunt, really more of an assistant than a hunter, watching and hiking up above 12,000 ft. on Hayden Mountain. No elk was bagged, but I wore camouflage and saw many bugling bulls and mewing cows. Then, I was invited to the rock climbing Mecca, Indian Creek for the first time. The dessert colors were unlike any I had ever seen: pale golden greens, red rocks under a double rainbow. As a novice rock climber, I had some important firsts with my climbing guru, Neil Backstrom: my first multi-pitch climb in the Black Canyon and my first lead sport climb. I have not yet ascertained Neil's secret recipe for his healthy, morning greens-shake, but I am working on re-creating the elixer.

Now, I am in Northwest New Jersey, visiting my family and friends here and anticipating Thanksgiving. I caught the fall leaves in full color-- bright reds and yellows with a punch of orange and mature brown, even a hint of deep purple in the reds-- just before cold rains and wind swept them away. In search of the rural Jersey, "the Boonies," I knew as a kid, I went to pick apples in an orchard with my parents. Most apples were on the ground, giving us a sweet, slightly vinegar smell that reveals everything about the location. We have been snacking on fresh cider and maple sugar candy.

Ski season is just around the corner, so I have been spending almost every day in the gym getting ready for my return to high elevation. While visiting two of my tribal families, the karate dojo with whom I trained for nearly fifteen years, and the river guides at Whitewater Challengers, I realized how similar the two groups are. They really ARE tribal families; they work hard together and play hard together, often at the same time. They inspire me to keep up the shenanighans... I plan on living and working in Telluride this winter and hiking up Palmyra Peak every day that the ropes are open. Once I am settled in, I hope many of you, my friends, will come to visit. See you on the slopes!

Wheels Are Turning

Blog Entry 5-4-10, Tuesday.

My 1986 4Runner (I call it a truck) needed a test voyage before taking the big leap into the Rockies. The (!) BREAK light has been glowing red for months. I drove down Boulder Canyon, coasting most of the way. The wind teetered the truck, my two kayaks on the roof acting like sails and catching scoops of the cold air. Even though it is early May, on this morning, fresh snow dusts the shaded canyon wall. Today, I'll go to a garage and have the oil changed.

Despite the fact that I have driven East to Boulder, Colorado, my Westward journey to Leavenworth, Washington has begun. Everything is packed in my truck. I am motivated by the notion that it is much warmer on the eastern slope of the Cascade Mountains than it is here along Colorado's Front Range. In these mountains, it has been a long winter and is no time to be sleeping in my truck.

Right now, the wind is howling and shaking the walls, even this chair, here at Neil Backstrom's house.

Last night, Neil hosted my goodbye dinner with his "Chicken Soup for the Soul." Neil and I made schemes about stopping on the Dolores River, Ruby Thief, the Ark, the Colorado. However, neither of us got out the maps. My epic road-trip has dwindled, over the last few weeks, to a solo endurance race with an overpacked, poorly maintained truck.

Neil is my climbing guru. He looks just as I imagine a guru should. His long white hair is pulled back into a small knot at the back of his head. He has trimmed back his mostly-white beard since I saw him last. He wears flip-flops. He is tall and lean, and crazy in just the right way, in a smart way. Inside his house is a historical museum sized collection of climbing tools, boots, shoes, ropes, ice axes and other various, brightly colored stuff sacks and gloves. All the other walls are lined with books.

Neil drinks green shakes every morning and goes to a hot yoga class like he has found religion, except it is not religion. It is just yoga. He has taken me for my most favorite climbing day ever. Now, it is time for me to leave Colorado.

Neil's finger is broken. He talks about doing aid climbing, something he never thought he'd get into. If there ever was such a thing as an iconic old-school climber, it's Neil. But that is too cliché for Neil. It's time.

I dread going back out into the wind; one last box to the storage unit, a visit to the Cash-For-Books counter, one more box to mail back to my parents in New Jersey. Maybe I will return to Neil's for tea after I finish my parting errands. It is good to know he is here.

This road trip to Washington has been the hardest one yet. For the last six years, spring has been my time to make a seasonal migration, eastward toward my original home and Northeastern whitewater. This spring, the seventh spring, I go further West. My cargo is heavier, my truck is older, and I am somehow surprised that I am doing this alone, again. Yet, during that test-cruise down the canyon, I yelled something like "Yeeeeyhoo," excited, free, and on my way.

The wind shakes the roof of Neil's trailer. I stay inside a little longer. Winds are reaching 80 MPH, the local public radio reports. My kayak, visible from Neil's window, lifts off the roof-rack when the wind gusts. Under my teacher's roof, under the high shelves of snowshoes, a rolled sheepskin and a book about Shackleton's Arctic Expedition, I can happily affirm, I have learned to pick my fights with mother nature. On wind-hold, my trip is delayed. (You can learn more about Mercury in Retrograde here.)

5-6-10

Soon to be in Wyoming. I have not bathed in about a week. The truck is packed like a complicated game of 3D Tetris. Sorry to everyone who has left voicemails... I will call you back when I get to a phone. xo - M

Food For Thought: Traveling Tea

My housemate Tim, who is moving out at about the same time as I am, gave me his beautiful Japanese tea set and black samurai pants. I am honored. What struck me most about the gift was the wicker basket that houses the delicate pottery, all packed up and ready to go. The art of tea is an important part of my life. I have hopes I will enjoy the finery of tea while on the road, and not break the blue tea pot and cups.

With most of my possessions loaded in the back of my 4-Runner, even my kitchen cupboard is bare, except for a few useful items. I stow the wicker box tea set and re-organize the space. I am ever wondering how it will all fit in my truck. Committed to my tea, I have designated to it an entire drawer in a mobile cabinet in my truck. Whole chamomile flowers, dong quai, jasmine green, French black tea blends infused with plum and vanilla.

Fascinated with the effect that packing has had on my life, I notice that I am reconditioning myself at the most basic levels. Even my diet is affected by my nomadic lifestyle. I buy food in smaller quantities because less can be stored. My rations are simpler. A few select grains and legumes. They store well, are healthy, and make an easy meal. Quinoa, barley, oats. Dahl, black beans.

Oil gives flavor and makes cooking easier. Olive, walnut oil.

I go to a grocery store almost daily, to pick up fresh produce. I eat it right away. I must let food stay refrigerated at the store until I am ready to prepare it. Apples travel well. Fresh vegetables add to my grains. Kale. Onions. Strawberries for dessert. None of this will be stored in my truck.

I fit a few dried mango slices, almonds and raisins for a snack.

A taste of meat or eggs is a special occasion. I cannot store them. I will only buy something from outside my food storage box if I am able to cook it right away.

I travel with spices: cumin, coriander, fenugreek, cinnamon, asafetida, anise, fennel, cardamom. I try to keep alive a few captive plants clustered on my passenger seat: mint, chives, rosemary. They make for a mobile apothecary. I study Ayurveda as I cook. It ads life to the food.

And then, there's tea. I have about as much space allotted to tea as I do the dried food that I'm packing. 1/3 space for tea, 1/3 dried rations, 1/3 cooking tools. It is the tools that make the simple foods taste gourmet. A press for squeezing oranges to juice. A fine, wire mesh strainer for soaking and sieving the quinoa, removing its outer, soapy residue. A good chopping knife. And now, the tea set itself, which ads specialness and quality to the tea experience.

Tea is not just about ingestion. It is contemplative, social and medicinal. A quiet morning, sitting on the tailgate, reading alone. A gathering, sitting on logs around a fire pit. This is a special tea set, even more so because it is now one for traveling. A little preciousness amidst the roughness. I hope somewhere we get to share in its luxury.

A Sunny Day in Ned.

I have been contemplating the launch of several new blogs. Up and running is "Training Blog: The Mongolia Project," covering the logistical planning, physical conditioning, mountain skills education and philanthropic aims of an expedition to Mongolia, planned for May 2011.

Today I soaked up some of the sun while strolling through town. We have a guest in the Medicine House named Craig. We stopped in to visit Andrea at the rock shop. Andrea tends beautiful crystals during her day job, but tonight, she will be making music and singing live on Radio Station KGNU with the base player from Mountain Standard Time, a favorite local mountain-grass band. We talked about what

Balance

I snuck in five runs today, starting just past noon, when the light was golden and the shadows where starting to lengthen and turn blue. I met a friend by chance at the lift. We found soft pillows of snow in the trees. Riding on the lift we shared the stoke. Now I'm back at the laptop writing again, sipping tea. A perfect day!

Priorities

I am missing a powder day after a long, dry mid-winter. This is because I want to finish grad school. I am writing stories today. I am counting on another snow day, somewhere in the future. Where is my loyalty? Skiing? Writing? Today, I am torn.

So, winter hasn't quite lived up to my early season expectations. It's been dry and the little snowpack we have is sketchy. To archive my optimism, I've saved the below preface to the Write-Wild blog from the opening of the ski season.

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Woha there! Three feet of snow brewed up on Nederland Halloween, starting off the 2009 ski season with a bang.

My bones are predicting the "Winter of Ned..." I can feel snow in the air. Ski conditioning began early this fall with several CobraBalance Snowsport Conditioning sessions. Climber's pull-up grips hang above my staircase. I dream of a season with 100m wide underfoot, but before I float on water-ski fatties, my most practical pair of skis: the 190's will transport me on daily jaunts along the Jenny Creek Trails.

Newsflash: An X-Ray reveals screws in my bionic knee. Learn more about how the doc will use his screw driver! Check out ski journalism at its finest y'all... RIGHT HERE.

Wooden skis.

Active bindings.

Adrenaline Rushes.

Hot Ski Patrollers.

Ice Skier Symphonic Bliss and Other Music Mixes.

Ski Lifetsyle: It's in the Family.

East Coaster Gets Schooled.

Rocky Mountain Medicinals and Ski Town Follies: Driggs, Idaho to Nederland, Colorado

The Migrational Seasons of Gypsies: Whitewater to Whitesnow

ACL Injury Prevention and Repair