I just watched the Snoopy balloon float through the streets of New York -- it's Thanksgiving! Although it feels and looks a little more like Christmas here in Denver, what with the snow on the ground and the temperature at 26 degrees. I miss California.
I've got a lot to recap, I know. My memory is going to be a little fuzzy, because it's been a while since I left Monterey, and things have been slightly more whirlwind-y during the last week.
On Saturday morning, I took a spin through the historic section of Monterey, where California was born. It reminded me of St. Augustine, Florida with its Spanish architecture. I saw California's first theater and Fisherman's Wharf, which is now home to chowder houses and souvenir shops but is still good for some photos. Then I headed south again for Point Lobos State Reserve, which I knew was going to be good, because so many locals told me I had to see it. And it was! I had a great hike that looked out on the rocky shore, wound through groves of crazy cypress trees, and proved just how fickle coastal weather can be (sun, wind, fog, back to sun...). There's a section of beach that was renamed Weston Beach, so I stopped to take a breather and imagine Edward Weston and his sons (many of whom became or are accomplished photographers themselves) hiking along the same paths and capturing the same raw beauty. And don't tell anyone with the Park Service, but I nabbed a couple pieces of driftwood from the beach as mementos. They're small! I'm sure they won't be missed!
After a few hours at Point Lobos, I got back on Highway 1 to go a little further south to Big Sur, which I was told I couldn't miss, especially from a photography standpoint. And yes, it was beautiful, but honestly? I had enjoyed similar scenery at many points along my drive from Eureka. Plus, there was more traffic and many cars stopped at every lookout, so it didn't have the remote feeling that I enjoyed along the northern coast.
Right about then, I kind of hit a wall in my journey. I was tired, mentally and physically, and I think I just wanted to take a break from being adventurous. I knew I was going to be picking up Angie in Oakland that night, and maybe subconsciously I knew that the solo-girl part of my travels were over (for a little while, at least). I had one more stop to make before Oakland, though, and that was at the Pigeon Point lighthouse in Pescadero (luckily, it's right on Highway 1, so I didn't have to go out of my way). I didn't want to miss the once-a-year lighting (this was the 135th annual) of the lighthouse's original Fresnel lens. This probably doesn't mean anything to most of you, but as a lighthouse buff I knew it was going to be good.
I arrived in Pescadero amid thick fog and would have totally missed the turn for the lighthouse if the town hadn't sent out several police officers to set up flares on the road and stop traffic so the spectators could park across the street -- I had to park waaaay far away and walk a good distance. There were so many people there! You could tell it was an event that really brought the community together. I found a good spot to stand, set up my tripod, and waited. After a few minutes, they shut off the current auto beacon. I admit, I kind of got distracted with people watching, and then pow! Two dozen fingers of light streamed out of the lighthouse, and it was one of the most extraordinary things I have ever seen. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. People cheered and clapped, and camera flashes were going off everywhere (although I can't see how those photos would come out). I waited until the flashes died down, and then I took some 10- and 20-second exposures to try to capture what I was seeing. Of course, the photos don't do it justice, but they're not bad. After 5 minutes, the lens began to rotate, and we were watching what seafarers back in the late 1800's saw as they approached the shore near Pescadero. It was truly unforgettable. If you want to see some REAL photographers' images, you can Google "Pigeon Point Fresnel lighting photos". There are some really gorgeous photos floating around out there.
Angie flew in from Denver that night, and on Sunday we acted on a tip from her roommate and sought out a Thai Buddhist temple in Berkeley where they have a fundraiser brunch every weekend. It was PACKED, but the people watching was spectacular (another example of the community coming together), and the curry was pretty yummy. We drove around the city for a little bit and then ventured into San Francisco. The weather, I'll mention, was not the greatest, but I knew to expect that about the Bay Area. We checked into the hostel at Fisherman's Wharf, which is palatial compared to some of the hostels I'd stayed in during my drive. Then we hopped on the bus and rode it to Golden Gate Park, which was so beautiful. The sun had sunk to a level below the cloud cover, and everything was lit like a painting. The fog keeps everything so lush and green, and there are so many different kinds of trees, and you can look away from the park and see the sun setting on all the houses that rise into the hills around the city. We just kept saying, "This is SO pretty!"
To keep this post from being ridiculously long (too late!), here's a rundown of what we did in SF: ate a criminal amount of falafel at Ali Baba, had cappuccino and chocolate cake at Tartine, walked a lot, rode a cable car, went shopping at the H&M in Union Square (wearing the same boring clothing for weeks on end makes one want to buy something a little funky), walked through Chinatown and had yummy pastries at the Eastern Bakery (the oldest bakery in Chinatown), walked some more, sought out the In-N-Out Burger by Fisherman's Wharf, walked some more, and then left. Seriously, it was a LOT of stuff packed into a time span of barely more than 24 hours. I really want to go back again, because I loved the city and want to see the rest of it! Oh, and I forgot to mention that we met Ian, from Canada, who is in the process of riding his bicycle from Winnipeg to Mexico and who was a great sightseeing buddy on Monday. Good luck, Ian!!
We spent Monday night in Sacramento (thanks, Matt and Sarah!) and hit the road Tuesday morning with Park City, UT as our destination. Hey, guess what? Utah is freaking COLD. It was a rude "welcome back to reality" from Mother Nature, but I guess it's good to get re-acclimated before I get back to MN. We stayed with Angie's friend Justin (thanks, Justin!), who gave us a little driving tour on Wednesday morning before we hit the road again. I am happy to say that I-80 through Wyoming was not nearly as bad this time around. Some snow had fallen, making the desolation a little prettier, and by the time we reached Laramie, Cheyenne, and then headed down into Colorado, the scenery was downright gorgeous. Picture mountains and rolling hills with a light covering of snow, the pale yellow grasses poking through as the sun set and caused everything to positively GLOW. It was quite breathtaking.
I was very happy to pull up outside Angie's house in Denver, though, and even happier to get to spend Thanksgiving with her, her awesome roommates, and a few other friends. I plan to hang out here for a couple days to see more of Denver and Boulder, and then it's back to the Twin Cities. Someone turn the heat on for me...
November 22, 2007
November 16, 2007
Track 23: Conversations
One of the great side effects of traveling alone is gaining confidence in talking to strangers (that thing that our parents warned us not to do when we were little). I feel like today has been all about talking to people I randomly encounter. It started this morning in the kitchen of the Point Montara hostel, where I ended up talking to Glen (from Salt Lake City) and Wynn (from Manchester, England) for over two hours about everything from traveling to No Child Left Behind (they're both teachers, and I didn't have much to contribute, but I enjoyed listening nonetheless). I had planned on leaving the hostel pretty early to get a good start to Monterey and Carmel, but I reminded myself that part of traveling (and life) involves connecting with people, and I am always rejuvenated by stimulating conversation, so I hung around and enjoyed the company. It's so refreshing to start talking to someone you don't even know and find yourself still talking (and listening) hours later.
Because of this welcome diversion, I decided to stray from Highway 1 and take the faster freeways to points south. I bypassed Monterey, where I knew I'd be staying, and headed right for Carmel. The only reason I wanted to go there was because of a documentary I'd seen (and subsequent reading I'd done) this summer about the photographer Edward Weston and his wife and artistic partner Charis Wilson, who lived there during the mid-1900's. I ended up visiting several galleries, gathering great advice from the curators, and I especially enjoyed my visit to the Weston Gallery. I also saw a great exhibition at the Center for Photographic Arts. It was a pretty inspiring afternoon, from a photographic point of view. Tomorrow I'm heading back down there to visit Point Lobos State Park (a favorite photo subject of Weston's) and Big Sur. I just hope the sun comes back out -- it's been cloudy, and although I'm a big fan of fog (it's so dreamy!), a nice sunset would make the coast that much more photogenic.
I headed back north to Monterey, where I checked into the hostel and got some great touring advice from the manager. I was walking down the block to Cannery Row when I stopped next to the Culinary Center of Monterey. Their cooking school has a restaurant that's open on weekends, and although I was planning to make my own dinner at the hostel, the beet and goat cheese salad caught my eye and made my mouth water. I'm a sucker for a good beet and goat cheese salad. Long story short -- the salad was scrumptious, as was the potato leek soup, and after asking the friendly server how the school/restaurant works, I learned that not only does the Center hold public cooking classes and a culinary school, it has a foundation (which is aided by the restaurant proceeds) that does wonderful things by teaching parents and kids all about healthy eating. I left twice the amount I owed for dinner and left with a happy belly and happy conscience.
I posted a bunch of photos to Flickr -- just click on any of the photos in the little collage on the right-hand side of the page. I went a bit crazy during the sunset in Mendocino (those that are posted represent a fraction of what I took). I hope you enjoy them -- I'll label them with details about location, etc. at some point in the near future.
Because of this welcome diversion, I decided to stray from Highway 1 and take the faster freeways to points south. I bypassed Monterey, where I knew I'd be staying, and headed right for Carmel. The only reason I wanted to go there was because of a documentary I'd seen (and subsequent reading I'd done) this summer about the photographer Edward Weston and his wife and artistic partner Charis Wilson, who lived there during the mid-1900's. I ended up visiting several galleries, gathering great advice from the curators, and I especially enjoyed my visit to the Weston Gallery. I also saw a great exhibition at the Center for Photographic Arts. It was a pretty inspiring afternoon, from a photographic point of view. Tomorrow I'm heading back down there to visit Point Lobos State Park (a favorite photo subject of Weston's) and Big Sur. I just hope the sun comes back out -- it's been cloudy, and although I'm a big fan of fog (it's so dreamy!), a nice sunset would make the coast that much more photogenic.
I headed back north to Monterey, where I checked into the hostel and got some great touring advice from the manager. I was walking down the block to Cannery Row when I stopped next to the Culinary Center of Monterey. Their cooking school has a restaurant that's open on weekends, and although I was planning to make my own dinner at the hostel, the beet and goat cheese salad caught my eye and made my mouth water. I'm a sucker for a good beet and goat cheese salad. Long story short -- the salad was scrumptious, as was the potato leek soup, and after asking the friendly server how the school/restaurant works, I learned that not only does the Center hold public cooking classes and a culinary school, it has a foundation (which is aided by the restaurant proceeds) that does wonderful things by teaching parents and kids all about healthy eating. I left twice the amount I owed for dinner and left with a happy belly and happy conscience.
I posted a bunch of photos to Flickr -- just click on any of the photos in the little collage on the right-hand side of the page. I went a bit crazy during the sunset in Mendocino (those that are posted represent a fraction of what I took). I hope you enjoy them -- I'll label them with details about location, etc. at some point in the near future.
November 15, 2007
Track 22: Shoreline Highway
As the hip kids say, OMG! So much to write about. This will probably be a long post, so settle in with a nice mug of tea. Or glass of wine. I'm sure it'll be much more interesting after a glass of wine, so you should go that route.
Anyway, I left Eureka early yesterday morning (around 7:30, after a stop for coffee). The town was so quiet and pretty, still drowsy beneath the light fog, and I was sad to leave. But once I got on Highway 101, I remembered what was ahead of me: Avenue of the Giants! There are few things more humbling than redwoods, people. Avenue of the Giants is a 31-mile scenic drive through several groves of them. Remember what I said about those moments of beauty that make you want to cry? Picture me, blinking back tears, my mouth agape, trying to watch the road and stare up at these enormous towers at the same time. Thank goodness no one else was on the road, so I had a nice, leisurely drive without any oncoming traffic to swerve at.
At around 10:00, I turned onto historic Highway 1 (the Shoreline Highway). Highlights: hairpin curves (I'm getting good at them by now), the sun streaming through the trees and illuminating the last bits of fog still clinging to the road, and listening to Leo Kottke. At 10:41 (yes, I looked at the clock and wrote it down), I reached the coast. I think I audibly gasped. And there were more tears. Honestly, you'd think I'd never seen the ocean before. But it was so blue, and so vast, and so...well, beyond words. There was a place to pull over (as I imagine anyone who reaches that point does), so I grabbed my camera, hopped out of the car, and was greeted with the sound and smell of the Pacific Ocean crashing on the rocks below. In my head, I heard the opening strums of "Into the Mystic" and started to choke up all over again.
As I continued to drive, it was hard not to stop at every vista point and turnout. I have yet to upload and go through any of the photos I've taken over the past couple of days, but I'm sure I went a little overboard. The weather was just perfect: blue sky, a bit of fog softening the bluffs and rocky shore.
I made a couple of stops to walk around. At MacKerricher State Park, I walked along a wooden promenade and saw a few harbor seals (they were pretty far away, though). In Fort Bragg, I found Glass Beach, which was a little underwhelming, but I did manage to snag a few little pieces that will make nice earrings. There was no one around to scold me, and there were a few other people stooping to pick up the glass as well. Back on the main drag, I happened upon a great little organic restaurant and had one of the best salads ever.
And then -- Mendocino. Shannon, if you're reading this, I owe you even more for directing me to stop and spend some time there. It is the cutest place in the world. It is impossibly quaint, in an only-people-in-movies-live-here kind of way. The village (and it truly feels like a village) was started by hippies, I've been told, and they've put a ban on any new development, so there are no condos, no Dairy Queens, and one gas station (which was selling the low grade for $4.04 a gallon. I'm serious.). I walked around the village, longed to live in one of the cute little houses (I can't stop using the word 'cute'), wished I could buy something in every store, and then made my way to a good spot on the beach to watch the sunset. Everyone, my family especially, knows how I love Sunset Beach in Cape May. But honestly, it doesn't compare to watching the sun drop into the Pacific. More tears. I really have to work on this crying thing. I stayed there watching the sky grow deep with colors until I had to leap up and run to my car for my tripod. I had fun playing with longer exposures, trying to capture the fiery pink clouds and the brightening crescent moon. It was truly spectacular.
I stayed the night in the cutest (sorry) little one-room cabin at Jughandle Creek Nature Reserve. It had a wood stove! Unfortunately, I'd never built a fire in a wood stove before; I think I missed that Girl Scout meeting. Luckily, I ran into Lou, who is staying there while he makes repairs to the farmhouse, and he helped out. The fire was great, until I got distracted by my book and the yummy local beer I had bought in Fort Bragg, and before I knew it, I was down to embers. I clumsily tried to rebuild it with some more wood, and although it took me forever (plus a lot of newspaper and matches), I managed to get it going again at about half-strength. When I woke up around 4 in the morning to a chilly cabin, I vowed to take a community ed class in firebuilding.
Today, I stopped to buy gas in Gualala, just because it's so much fun to say. Gua-LA-la. Hee!
Here's what I love about driving in California: turnouts. Californians have no qualms tailgating you even though it's clear you're not familiar with the roads (hello, read my license plate!) and the roads have more curves than Jessica Rabbit. Turnouts are places where I can pull over and let the impatient bastards zip by me on their way to somewhere obviously more important than my safety.
I'm a big believer in soundtracks. They can turn a bad movie into a semi-okay one and a good movie unforgettable (a la Almost Famous and The Big Chill, two of my favorite movies). I also like trying to match the music I listen to in my car with the scenery outside my car, like the soundtrack to my life, as hokey as that sounds. Kind of accidentally, I put in my Classic Chillout compilation just before my drive through the redwoods, and I swear it made it that much better. Ditto with Leo Kottke and the winding forest roads at the top of Highway 1. This morning, I started with Bebel Gilberto's Tanto Tempo Remixes, then Van Morrison's Moondance (I had to listen to "Into the Mystic" rather than just singing it in my head), which were both very enjoyable and fitting, but it wasn't until I put in U2's The Joshua Tree that I hit the motherlode. If you can hear the beginning of "Where the Streets Have No Name", with those quiet organ notes leading into that steady drumbeat, and then picture Highway 1 twisting and curving above the waves of the Pacific crashing into the rocky shoreline and NOT get goosebumps, there's something wrong with you. That whole album was the absolute perfect soundtrack for my drive today. I'd have listened to it over and over again, but I didn't want to wear it out with so many days left in my trip. David Gray's White Ladder was next, followed by Tori Amos and Scarlet's Walk. I have no idea if all this is boring you to tears, but the music played an important role in my drive today.
In a really well-timed move, I got to San Francisco smack-dab in the middle of rush hour. As I got closer to the city, I noticed that a thick fog blanketed the coast (it was really cool, actually), so I wasn't sure when I'd see the Golden Gate. I followed the signs to get back on 101, which goes through a short tunnel. Upon exiting the tunnel, I was practically ON THE BRIDGE. More tears. I don't know about you, but I'm a sucker for seeing an oft-photographed icon in person (remember Half Dome?). I just get starstruck, and after two days of being in constant pinch-me-I'm-dreaming mode, I'm an emotional mess.
Then reality hit: a $5.00 toll? Are you KIDDING me? Just to drive across one of America's most recognizable icons? Fine, but I take back my tears of joy. I really should only have to pay $2.50, because half the bridge was completely enveloped in fog.
After a foggy, misty, trafficky (is that a word?) drive through SF, I arrived safely at Point Montara hostel, which is actually part of the keeper's quarters of a lighthouse. For those who don't know (or haven't seen my collection of refrigerator magnets), I HEART lighthouses!! It's a short and squat baby lighthouse, but I'm still charmed. I also stopped at Point Arena lighthouse earlier today to snap some photos. Forgot to mention that. Two lighthouses in one day!
Seriously, if you're still reading at this point, you deserve a medal. Or another glass of wine. Go ahead, treat yourself. I've got photos to upload!
Anyway, I left Eureka early yesterday morning (around 7:30, after a stop for coffee). The town was so quiet and pretty, still drowsy beneath the light fog, and I was sad to leave. But once I got on Highway 101, I remembered what was ahead of me: Avenue of the Giants! There are few things more humbling than redwoods, people. Avenue of the Giants is a 31-mile scenic drive through several groves of them. Remember what I said about those moments of beauty that make you want to cry? Picture me, blinking back tears, my mouth agape, trying to watch the road and stare up at these enormous towers at the same time. Thank goodness no one else was on the road, so I had a nice, leisurely drive without any oncoming traffic to swerve at.
At around 10:00, I turned onto historic Highway 1 (the Shoreline Highway). Highlights: hairpin curves (I'm getting good at them by now), the sun streaming through the trees and illuminating the last bits of fog still clinging to the road, and listening to Leo Kottke. At 10:41 (yes, I looked at the clock and wrote it down), I reached the coast. I think I audibly gasped. And there were more tears. Honestly, you'd think I'd never seen the ocean before. But it was so blue, and so vast, and so...well, beyond words. There was a place to pull over (as I imagine anyone who reaches that point does), so I grabbed my camera, hopped out of the car, and was greeted with the sound and smell of the Pacific Ocean crashing on the rocks below. In my head, I heard the opening strums of "Into the Mystic" and started to choke up all over again.
As I continued to drive, it was hard not to stop at every vista point and turnout. I have yet to upload and go through any of the photos I've taken over the past couple of days, but I'm sure I went a little overboard. The weather was just perfect: blue sky, a bit of fog softening the bluffs and rocky shore.
I made a couple of stops to walk around. At MacKerricher State Park, I walked along a wooden promenade and saw a few harbor seals (they were pretty far away, though). In Fort Bragg, I found Glass Beach, which was a little underwhelming, but I did manage to snag a few little pieces that will make nice earrings. There was no one around to scold me, and there were a few other people stooping to pick up the glass as well. Back on the main drag, I happened upon a great little organic restaurant and had one of the best salads ever.
And then -- Mendocino. Shannon, if you're reading this, I owe you even more for directing me to stop and spend some time there. It is the cutest place in the world. It is impossibly quaint, in an only-people-in-movies-live-here kind of way. The village (and it truly feels like a village) was started by hippies, I've been told, and they've put a ban on any new development, so there are no condos, no Dairy Queens, and one gas station (which was selling the low grade for $4.04 a gallon. I'm serious.). I walked around the village, longed to live in one of the cute little houses (I can't stop using the word 'cute'), wished I could buy something in every store, and then made my way to a good spot on the beach to watch the sunset. Everyone, my family especially, knows how I love Sunset Beach in Cape May. But honestly, it doesn't compare to watching the sun drop into the Pacific. More tears. I really have to work on this crying thing. I stayed there watching the sky grow deep with colors until I had to leap up and run to my car for my tripod. I had fun playing with longer exposures, trying to capture the fiery pink clouds and the brightening crescent moon. It was truly spectacular.
I stayed the night in the cutest (sorry) little one-room cabin at Jughandle Creek Nature Reserve. It had a wood stove! Unfortunately, I'd never built a fire in a wood stove before; I think I missed that Girl Scout meeting. Luckily, I ran into Lou, who is staying there while he makes repairs to the farmhouse, and he helped out. The fire was great, until I got distracted by my book and the yummy local beer I had bought in Fort Bragg, and before I knew it, I was down to embers. I clumsily tried to rebuild it with some more wood, and although it took me forever (plus a lot of newspaper and matches), I managed to get it going again at about half-strength. When I woke up around 4 in the morning to a chilly cabin, I vowed to take a community ed class in firebuilding.
Today, I stopped to buy gas in Gualala, just because it's so much fun to say. Gua-LA-la. Hee!
Here's what I love about driving in California: turnouts. Californians have no qualms tailgating you even though it's clear you're not familiar with the roads (hello, read my license plate!) and the roads have more curves than Jessica Rabbit. Turnouts are places where I can pull over and let the impatient bastards zip by me on their way to somewhere obviously more important than my safety.
I'm a big believer in soundtracks. They can turn a bad movie into a semi-okay one and a good movie unforgettable (a la Almost Famous and The Big Chill, two of my favorite movies). I also like trying to match the music I listen to in my car with the scenery outside my car, like the soundtrack to my life, as hokey as that sounds. Kind of accidentally, I put in my Classic Chillout compilation just before my drive through the redwoods, and I swear it made it that much better. Ditto with Leo Kottke and the winding forest roads at the top of Highway 1. This morning, I started with Bebel Gilberto's Tanto Tempo Remixes, then Van Morrison's Moondance (I had to listen to "Into the Mystic" rather than just singing it in my head), which were both very enjoyable and fitting, but it wasn't until I put in U2's The Joshua Tree that I hit the motherlode. If you can hear the beginning of "Where the Streets Have No Name", with those quiet organ notes leading into that steady drumbeat, and then picture Highway 1 twisting and curving above the waves of the Pacific crashing into the rocky shoreline and NOT get goosebumps, there's something wrong with you. That whole album was the absolute perfect soundtrack for my drive today. I'd have listened to it over and over again, but I didn't want to wear it out with so many days left in my trip. David Gray's White Ladder was next, followed by Tori Amos and Scarlet's Walk. I have no idea if all this is boring you to tears, but the music played an important role in my drive today.
In a really well-timed move, I got to San Francisco smack-dab in the middle of rush hour. As I got closer to the city, I noticed that a thick fog blanketed the coast (it was really cool, actually), so I wasn't sure when I'd see the Golden Gate. I followed the signs to get back on 101, which goes through a short tunnel. Upon exiting the tunnel, I was practically ON THE BRIDGE. More tears. I don't know about you, but I'm a sucker for seeing an oft-photographed icon in person (remember Half Dome?). I just get starstruck, and after two days of being in constant pinch-me-I'm-dreaming mode, I'm an emotional mess.
Then reality hit: a $5.00 toll? Are you KIDDING me? Just to drive across one of America's most recognizable icons? Fine, but I take back my tears of joy. I really should only have to pay $2.50, because half the bridge was completely enveloped in fog.
After a foggy, misty, trafficky (is that a word?) drive through SF, I arrived safely at Point Montara hostel, which is actually part of the keeper's quarters of a lighthouse. For those who don't know (or haven't seen my collection of refrigerator magnets), I HEART lighthouses!! It's a short and squat baby lighthouse, but I'm still charmed. I also stopped at Point Arena lighthouse earlier today to snap some photos. Forgot to mention that. Two lighthouses in one day!
Seriously, if you're still reading at this point, you deserve a medal. Or another glass of wine. Go ahead, treat yourself. I've got photos to upload!
November 14, 2007
Track 21: Eureka!
Hello from gorgeous Humboldt County, CA! I made it to Eureka late yesterday afternoon after a rainy yet beautiful drive up through the Sacramento Valley and then over highway 299 through the mountains (read: more race car driving). Shannon and Brian are renting the cutest little house and are the perfect hosts, and Shannon's years as a travel agent in California have resulted in me actually having a clue what I'm going to be doing this week. I owe you one, Shannon! Or a billion. Can we work out a payment plan?
Anyway, today we had lunch in Arcata, a very charming hippie town that's home to Humboldt State University, and went hiking in a redwood forest that's right next to the campus. I honestly think it was that first time I had ever seen redwoods, and I was speechless. It was like walking through a time warp into this ancient forest grove full of enormous trees covered with moss, and ferns, and it was just beautiful. I kept expecting a dinosaur (or Ewok, as Shannon suggested) to lumber out from the trees. I didn't get a whole lot of photos because the thick cover of trees didn't afford enough light, and I hadn't brought my tripod, but I don't think I'll soon forget that hike. Just magical.
Then we headed for the coast, making a few photo stops as we headed up Highway 101. The weather, which was predicted to be kind of crappy, turned out to be perfect. It was sunny with a little bit of foggy mist, making everything all soft and shimmery. There were moments when the rays of sun came streaming through the giant trees and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. It's every photographer's dream. And to smell the sea (and feel the sky, as Van Morrison sings) was also just what I needed. The day was just one gorgeous thing after another. And we saw elk! Just lounging by the side of the road!
And just because I haven't mentioned food in a while, I have to tell you all about the gastronomical delights: another stop in Arcata for hand-dipped, homemade ice cream (a scoop of ginger and a scoop of pumpkin pie), and dinner at Hurricane Kate's, where I had butternut squash, bean, and corn soup served in a small, hollowed-out pumpkin and a very nice glass of Barbera. Oh, and for lunch I also had a cup of pumpkin and corn chowder. I thought I'd keep the theme going throughout the day.
Tomorrow morning I plan to make my way down to Mendocino, driving along the Avenue of the Giants (redwoods); stopping at MacKerricher State Park to see some harbor seals; then at Fort Bragg to see the glass beach (they say no collecting the beach glass, but I may have to sneak a piece or two into my pocket); Russian Gulch State Park, where I'll do another waterfall hike (I've been assured it's much less strenuous than my Yosemite hike); and exploring and dinner in the village of Mendocino, where Shannon used to live. Brian did some web surfing, and Shannon made the call that got me a small one-room cabin at Jug Handle Creek Farm. It's got a wood stove! Hopefully I won't burn the place down.
After just a taste of the coastline today, I am even more excited about the rest of my drive. I plan to go as far south as Monterey and Carmel (my pilgrimage to Edward Weston and Charis Wilson's former home) before going back up to the Bay Area for the weekend. I have plenty of pictures to post, but it's super-late and I have to get up in less than six hours to hit the road. Patience, dear readers, have patience...
Anyway, today we had lunch in Arcata, a very charming hippie town that's home to Humboldt State University, and went hiking in a redwood forest that's right next to the campus. I honestly think it was that first time I had ever seen redwoods, and I was speechless. It was like walking through a time warp into this ancient forest grove full of enormous trees covered with moss, and ferns, and it was just beautiful. I kept expecting a dinosaur (or Ewok, as Shannon suggested) to lumber out from the trees. I didn't get a whole lot of photos because the thick cover of trees didn't afford enough light, and I hadn't brought my tripod, but I don't think I'll soon forget that hike. Just magical.
Then we headed for the coast, making a few photo stops as we headed up Highway 101. The weather, which was predicted to be kind of crappy, turned out to be perfect. It was sunny with a little bit of foggy mist, making everything all soft and shimmery. There were moments when the rays of sun came streaming through the giant trees and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. It's every photographer's dream. And to smell the sea (and feel the sky, as Van Morrison sings) was also just what I needed. The day was just one gorgeous thing after another. And we saw elk! Just lounging by the side of the road!
And just because I haven't mentioned food in a while, I have to tell you all about the gastronomical delights: another stop in Arcata for hand-dipped, homemade ice cream (a scoop of ginger and a scoop of pumpkin pie), and dinner at Hurricane Kate's, where I had butternut squash, bean, and corn soup served in a small, hollowed-out pumpkin and a very nice glass of Barbera. Oh, and for lunch I also had a cup of pumpkin and corn chowder. I thought I'd keep the theme going throughout the day.
Tomorrow morning I plan to make my way down to Mendocino, driving along the Avenue of the Giants (redwoods); stopping at MacKerricher State Park to see some harbor seals; then at Fort Bragg to see the glass beach (they say no collecting the beach glass, but I may have to sneak a piece or two into my pocket); Russian Gulch State Park, where I'll do another waterfall hike (I've been assured it's much less strenuous than my Yosemite hike); and exploring and dinner in the village of Mendocino, where Shannon used to live. Brian did some web surfing, and Shannon made the call that got me a small one-room cabin at Jug Handle Creek Farm. It's got a wood stove! Hopefully I won't burn the place down.
After just a taste of the coastline today, I am even more excited about the rest of my drive. I plan to go as far south as Monterey and Carmel (my pilgrimage to Edward Weston and Charis Wilson's former home) before going back up to the Bay Area for the weekend. I have plenty of pictures to post, but it's super-late and I have to get up in less than six hours to hit the road. Patience, dear readers, have patience...
November 11, 2007
Track 20: Smokin' in the Boys' Room
I didn't sleep well on Friday night: there were too many snorers, a group of people came in late and made lots of noise, and some more people got up at 5:30 a.m. and made even more noise. Oh yeah, and I was in the guys' dorm and NO ONE TOLD ME.
I slept much, much better last night. On the girls' side.
Anyway, I spent most of yesterday's daylight hours at Yosemite. I won't insult your intelligence and ramble on about how beautiful it is, because you already know it is, even if you've never been there. It's a national park, people! Of course it's amazing! Have you ever had one of those moments where you're just overwhelmed by the beautiful things around you, so much so that you start to choke up? That happened to me multiple times just on the drive into the park. And then, when I finally saw Half Dome -- goosebumps. I have worshiped Ansel Adams for so long, and to see that huge, rocky icon in real life was a moment I will not soon forget. They have an Ansel Adams Gallery in the park, so of course I had to buy a few postcards of his photographs. One is a portrait taken of Adams and his big view camera, and another is a candid photo of Georgia O'Keeffe (they were friends), whose biography I read last year. Somehow, the portraits of the artists are just as inspiring to me as their works of art.
After riding around on the hybrid shuttle bus, I embarked on a hike up to Vernal Falls. If there is a theme to this adventure of mine, it's Things That Kick My Butt. Driving across Wyoming, hauling rocks, hiking in Yosemite. I read in the guide book that the difficulty level was "moderate" and thought, "Okay! I can do this." Thirty seconds later, I was peeling off layers and already out of breath. I was pretty tired when I got to the footbridge that gives you a view to the falls, but I really wanted to get to the top, and it was only another mile or so to go. So I kept going, and then I reached the granite steps. The "steep granite stairway of over 600 steps," as the hiking guide (a separate pamphlet which I stupidly didn't read) states. The pamphlet also lists that second half of the hike as "strenuous". Whoops. I had flashbacks to my nightmare hike through the rainforest in Honduras, except I wasn't soaked through with sweat and I could stop whenever I wanted instead of trying to keep up with our flip-flopped 12-year-old guide. But I pushed on, stopping often, chatting breathlessly with the other red-faced and struggling hikers, until I reached the top. I rested there for a while, had a snack, and headed back down, which caused a whole different group of muscles to hurt. But it was a good kind of hurt. A funny thing happened on the way down: I saw a black fleece hat hanging from a tree branch (nature's lost-and-found) and thought, "Hey, that looks like my hat." Then I realized that I hadn't seen my hat in my bag when I was at the top of the falls, so I searched again and sure enough, some nice soul had found my dropped hat and placed it where I could find it. Yay! It's a good hat. It doesn't give me horrible hat hair. I would have been sad if I'd lost it.
I did some more walking along the Merced River, took a lot of pictures (most of which are pretty disappointing, but a.) I'm pretty hard on myself, and b.) I'd spent a good chunk of time looking at the professionals' pictures in the gallery that morning). When I got back to the hostel, I spent some time in Photoshop, changing some of the photos to black and white and making other adjustments to make them more pleasing to me.
Unfortunately, it's raining today, so I'm not sure I'll head back into the park. I would love to come back again, though, for a longer period of time. Then I can familiarize myself with the layout of the park, do some more research on good photo spots, and take more time to really photograph things.
This afternoon I'm going to head over to the Modesto area for a return visit with Delite. Then, tomorrow, I'll head up to Eureka to stay with my friend Shannon and see the redwoods. Then I'll start down the coast! Woo!
I slept much, much better last night. On the girls' side.
Anyway, I spent most of yesterday's daylight hours at Yosemite. I won't insult your intelligence and ramble on about how beautiful it is, because you already know it is, even if you've never been there. It's a national park, people! Of course it's amazing! Have you ever had one of those moments where you're just overwhelmed by the beautiful things around you, so much so that you start to choke up? That happened to me multiple times just on the drive into the park. And then, when I finally saw Half Dome -- goosebumps. I have worshiped Ansel Adams for so long, and to see that huge, rocky icon in real life was a moment I will not soon forget. They have an Ansel Adams Gallery in the park, so of course I had to buy a few postcards of his photographs. One is a portrait taken of Adams and his big view camera, and another is a candid photo of Georgia O'Keeffe (they were friends), whose biography I read last year. Somehow, the portraits of the artists are just as inspiring to me as their works of art.
After riding around on the hybrid shuttle bus, I embarked on a hike up to Vernal Falls. If there is a theme to this adventure of mine, it's Things That Kick My Butt. Driving across Wyoming, hauling rocks, hiking in Yosemite. I read in the guide book that the difficulty level was "moderate" and thought, "Okay! I can do this." Thirty seconds later, I was peeling off layers and already out of breath. I was pretty tired when I got to the footbridge that gives you a view to the falls, but I really wanted to get to the top, and it was only another mile or so to go. So I kept going, and then I reached the granite steps. The "steep granite stairway of over 600 steps," as the hiking guide (a separate pamphlet which I stupidly didn't read) states. The pamphlet also lists that second half of the hike as "strenuous". Whoops. I had flashbacks to my nightmare hike through the rainforest in Honduras, except I wasn't soaked through with sweat and I could stop whenever I wanted instead of trying to keep up with our flip-flopped 12-year-old guide. But I pushed on, stopping often, chatting breathlessly with the other red-faced and struggling hikers, until I reached the top. I rested there for a while, had a snack, and headed back down, which caused a whole different group of muscles to hurt. But it was a good kind of hurt. A funny thing happened on the way down: I saw a black fleece hat hanging from a tree branch (nature's lost-and-found) and thought, "Hey, that looks like my hat." Then I realized that I hadn't seen my hat in my bag when I was at the top of the falls, so I searched again and sure enough, some nice soul had found my dropped hat and placed it where I could find it. Yay! It's a good hat. It doesn't give me horrible hat hair. I would have been sad if I'd lost it.I did some more walking along the Merced River, took a lot of pictures (most of which are pretty disappointing, but a.) I'm pretty hard on myself, and b.) I'd spent a good chunk of time looking at the professionals' pictures in the gallery that morning). When I got back to the hostel, I spent some time in Photoshop, changing some of the photos to black and white and making other adjustments to make them more pleasing to me.
Unfortunately, it's raining today, so I'm not sure I'll head back into the park. I would love to come back again, though, for a longer period of time. Then I can familiarize myself with the layout of the park, do some more research on good photo spots, and take more time to really photograph things.
This afternoon I'm going to head over to the Modesto area for a return visit with Delite. Then, tomorrow, I'll head up to Eureka to stay with my friend Shannon and see the redwoods. Then I'll start down the coast! Woo!
November 09, 2007
Track 19: Into the Wild
Hello from Yosemite Bug Mountain Resort! I'm staying at the hostel here. Right now I'm in the cafe/lodge sitting on a big, leather couch right next to the fire, and I'm TOO HOT. Really, it's not cold enough to warrant a fire, but I appreciate the ambiance. There are lots of people (a lot of families, actually) reading, talking, eating. The food at the cafe is supposed to be really good, but I'm not too hungry and I've got a cooler full of fruit, bread, and whatnot in my car. There's a nice feeling here. I haven't seen the dorm where I'll be sleeping, but as long as it's heated, I'm happy.
I just had to write about the drive here. It seemed pretty straightforward -- 49 South to Mariposa, then 140 East for about 9 miles -- and I was under the impression that it would take a couple hours. Wrong! It took me 4 hours. During the first half of the drive, I went through some really cute towns: San Andreas, the only fault (yeah, I said it) being that it was pretty boring; Angels Camp, the self-proclaimed Home of the Jumping Frog (I think they have frog-jumping contests there); and Sonora, which had the best historic main street full of shops, bars, and cafes. It was nice to drive the country roads instead of roaring down an interstate at 70 miles an hour.
But then, 49 South turned into the curviest, most mountainous road I have ever driven. At first, I felt like I was in a car commercial. Then I realized that it was like playing one of those race car games at the arcade, where you just turn the steering wheel back and forth and back and forth. Second gear, then third, then fourth -- oh no! -- back down to second. It was CRAZY. The worse thing was, I couldn't take my eyes off the road to look at the gorgeous scenery! I did manage to stop at one "vista point", as they call them, but I was worried about it getting dark, so I didn't stop anywhere else. But I made it in one piece, and I'm planning on taking a bus into the park tomorrow.
It's supposed to be sunny and 67 degrees tomorrow -- perfect! I hope to channel the spirits of Ansel Adams and Edward Weston. Hopefully I'll have some great photos to post for your viewing pleasure. Stay tuned...
They ain't kiddin'!
I just had to write about the drive here. It seemed pretty straightforward -- 49 South to Mariposa, then 140 East for about 9 miles -- and I was under the impression that it would take a couple hours. Wrong! It took me 4 hours. During the first half of the drive, I went through some really cute towns: San Andreas, the only fault (yeah, I said it) being that it was pretty boring; Angels Camp, the self-proclaimed Home of the Jumping Frog (I think they have frog-jumping contests there); and Sonora, which had the best historic main street full of shops, bars, and cafes. It was nice to drive the country roads instead of roaring down an interstate at 70 miles an hour.
But then, 49 South turned into the curviest, most mountainous road I have ever driven. At first, I felt like I was in a car commercial. Then I realized that it was like playing one of those race car games at the arcade, where you just turn the steering wheel back and forth and back and forth. Second gear, then third, then fourth -- oh no! -- back down to second. It was CRAZY. The worse thing was, I couldn't take my eyes off the road to look at the gorgeous scenery! I did manage to stop at one "vista point", as they call them, but I was worried about it getting dark, so I didn't stop anywhere else. But I made it in one piece, and I'm planning on taking a bus into the park tomorrow.
It's supposed to be sunny and 67 degrees tomorrow -- perfect! I hope to channel the spirits of Ansel Adams and Edward Weston. Hopefully I'll have some great photos to post for your viewing pleasure. Stay tuned...
They ain't kiddin'!
November 07, 2007
Track 18: Who, Me? Mysterious?
Wow -- I guess people are actually READING this thing! (That makes me feel good.) I got several e-mails from people wanting to know more details. So, here's the scoop:
Reasons I Am Heading Back to Minnesota:
1. I heard it already snowed there, and I got jealous. (Just kidding!)
2. As much as I've enjoyed working outside, getting fresh air, and feeling more connected to the earth (as hokey as that sounds), I am really anxious to get back to civilization. Thing I've Learned #1: I am more of a city girl than I thought.
3. Part of heading back to civilization means getting back to the people I've grown to love over the past 6 years, whom I've missed very much. Thing I've Learned #2: I found a niche in the Twin Cities without really realizing it. I was hoping that I would come to some kind of realization when I got some distance, and it happened.
4. I have issues with the personalities of some of the people at the farm. I don't want to elaborate should these people ever happen to find their way to this blog, so I'll just stop there.
5. I am tired of sleeping in a trailer.
6. All of this sunshine is making me TOO happy. (Kidding again!)
I guess I've gotten whatever was in my system -- namely, romanticizing farm life -- out of my system, although I know that I do need it in small doses. I'll probably join a CSA (community supported agriculture) next summer that offers members a chance to go out and work on the farm in addition to getting fresh, local produce every week. And I'll have my community garden plot, or a backyard garden, depending on where I'm living. I'm also thinking about trying the "100 Mile Diet" sometime next summer, when the growing season is in full swing. I finished the Barbara Kingsolver book (can I just repeat how awesome it is?) and am starting another book about people eating locally for a eyar. It's called Plenty, and it's written by Alisa Smith and J.B. MacKinnon.
I have to say, though, that not having reliable internet at the house has led me to be very resourceful with my laptop. For instance, right now I'm at the laundromat, and I'm able to pick up a wireless network from the athletic club across the parking lot. God bless these people and their inability to password-protect their internet access!
Reasons I Am Heading Back to Minnesota:
1. I heard it already snowed there, and I got jealous. (Just kidding!)
2. As much as I've enjoyed working outside, getting fresh air, and feeling more connected to the earth (as hokey as that sounds), I am really anxious to get back to civilization. Thing I've Learned #1: I am more of a city girl than I thought.
3. Part of heading back to civilization means getting back to the people I've grown to love over the past 6 years, whom I've missed very much. Thing I've Learned #2: I found a niche in the Twin Cities without really realizing it. I was hoping that I would come to some kind of realization when I got some distance, and it happened.
4. I have issues with the personalities of some of the people at the farm. I don't want to elaborate should these people ever happen to find their way to this blog, so I'll just stop there.
5. I am tired of sleeping in a trailer.
6. All of this sunshine is making me TOO happy. (Kidding again!)
I guess I've gotten whatever was in my system -- namely, romanticizing farm life -- out of my system, although I know that I do need it in small doses. I'll probably join a CSA (community supported agriculture) next summer that offers members a chance to go out and work on the farm in addition to getting fresh, local produce every week. And I'll have my community garden plot, or a backyard garden, depending on where I'm living. I'm also thinking about trying the "100 Mile Diet" sometime next summer, when the growing season is in full swing. I finished the Barbara Kingsolver book (can I just repeat how awesome it is?) and am starting another book about people eating locally for a eyar. It's called Plenty, and it's written by Alisa Smith and J.B. MacKinnon.
I have to say, though, that not having reliable internet at the house has led me to be very resourceful with my laptop. For instance, right now I'm at the laundromat, and I'm able to pick up a wireless network from the athletic club across the parking lot. God bless these people and their inability to password-protect their internet access!
November 05, 2007
Track 17: In Praise of Pesto
On Saturday night, we had pasta with pesto made from freshly-picked basil. YUM. Enough said.
Picture me this morning, harvesting tomatoes: it is like a tomato FOREST. Just when you think you've got all the little cherry tomatoes, you squat down (carefully, as there's another tomato plant about 3 inches behind you), push aside some branches, and jackpot! There's a cluster of bright red ones, juicy and perfect. I gather them in the hem of my t-shirt, humming a song, and suddenly I feel like someone else. There are chickens hiding out amongst the plants, waiting for me to drop something. All you hear is a slow, quiet "boc, boc", and maybe you see a flash of feathers, but you know they're there. Stalking.
This afternoon I finally got around to washing all the dead bugs off the front of my car. They were nice and petrified, so it was lots of fun. The chickens would not let me alone, and I can't figure out why. They pecked at the bubbles on the ground, or maybe they were drinking the water. Were they smart enough to know that I was washing BUGS off the car? One of them started to peck at my bumper, and that was the last straw. I really do find chickens quite annoying, especially when I can look forward to cleaning out the coop again on Thursday. (And there was much rejoicing. Yaaaaaaaay.)
I feel a bit sheepish telling you this, but I drove into Sacramento again on Sunday just to go to the farmers' market. It's about 40 miles away. Yes, the fuel I burned probably negated the fact that I was buying local food, but I just couldn't help it. I needed more persimmons and mandarin oranges! And strawberries!! Oh, those strawberries. When I got home, I had the best salad EVER for lunch: lettuce, orange sections, thinly-sliced persimmon, cucumber, and onion, pomegranate seeds, and balsamic vinaigrette. Oh. My. God. I had the same thing for lunch today, but I added walnuts and spinach. It felt so good to be eating a salad. Steve is a great cook, but he doesn't do much in the way of raw, leafy greens. I needed some roughage.
Here's the REAL news: on Friday, I'm leaving Fiddletown to do some more exploring before heading back to Minnesota. I plan to spend the weekend at Yosemite (I'm staying at a hostel about 25 miles outside the park), and then I'm heading up north to start a tour of the coast. On the 17th, Angie (of Denver fame) is flying out to meet up with me, and we're going to spend the next couple days exploring the Bay Area. Then we're driving back to Denver for Thanksgiving, where I'll probably hang out for another few days, and then it's back to the Twin Cities! So yes, I'm cutting the trip a little short. I have many reasons, which I won't get into in this post, because it's almost 10:00 p.m. and I'm still sitting in my car in front of the post office.
If anyone has any suggestions for things to see and do along the CA coast, let me know! So far, I only have a few things in mind. Also, remind me not to take I-80 across Wyoming on the way back...
Picture me this morning, harvesting tomatoes: it is like a tomato FOREST. Just when you think you've got all the little cherry tomatoes, you squat down (carefully, as there's another tomato plant about 3 inches behind you), push aside some branches, and jackpot! There's a cluster of bright red ones, juicy and perfect. I gather them in the hem of my t-shirt, humming a song, and suddenly I feel like someone else. There are chickens hiding out amongst the plants, waiting for me to drop something. All you hear is a slow, quiet "boc, boc", and maybe you see a flash of feathers, but you know they're there. Stalking.
This afternoon I finally got around to washing all the dead bugs off the front of my car. They were nice and petrified, so it was lots of fun. The chickens would not let me alone, and I can't figure out why. They pecked at the bubbles on the ground, or maybe they were drinking the water. Were they smart enough to know that I was washing BUGS off the car? One of them started to peck at my bumper, and that was the last straw. I really do find chickens quite annoying, especially when I can look forward to cleaning out the coop again on Thursday. (And there was much rejoicing. Yaaaaaaaay.)
I feel a bit sheepish telling you this, but I drove into Sacramento again on Sunday just to go to the farmers' market. It's about 40 miles away. Yes, the fuel I burned probably negated the fact that I was buying local food, but I just couldn't help it. I needed more persimmons and mandarin oranges! And strawberries!! Oh, those strawberries. When I got home, I had the best salad EVER for lunch: lettuce, orange sections, thinly-sliced persimmon, cucumber, and onion, pomegranate seeds, and balsamic vinaigrette. Oh. My. God. I had the same thing for lunch today, but I added walnuts and spinach. It felt so good to be eating a salad. Steve is a great cook, but he doesn't do much in the way of raw, leafy greens. I needed some roughage.
Here's the REAL news: on Friday, I'm leaving Fiddletown to do some more exploring before heading back to Minnesota. I plan to spend the weekend at Yosemite (I'm staying at a hostel about 25 miles outside the park), and then I'm heading up north to start a tour of the coast. On the 17th, Angie (of Denver fame) is flying out to meet up with me, and we're going to spend the next couple days exploring the Bay Area. Then we're driving back to Denver for Thanksgiving, where I'll probably hang out for another few days, and then it's back to the Twin Cities! So yes, I'm cutting the trip a little short. I have many reasons, which I won't get into in this post, because it's almost 10:00 p.m. and I'm still sitting in my car in front of the post office.
If anyone has any suggestions for things to see and do along the CA coast, let me know! So far, I only have a few things in mind. Also, remind me not to take I-80 across Wyoming on the way back...
November 02, 2007
Track 16: Rocks (but not rolls)
I'm at Starbucks again. I know, I know! But I honestly think it's the only coffee shop in this whole area (and I'm still able to pick up a mystery wi-fi network). And I didn't feel like sitting in my car this afternoon. The sun is too hot. Are you jealous? You should be. But then, think of me in my trailer when it's in the 40's tonight. The trailer that's situated under a tree that drops acorns that hit the metal roof with a nice little bang and then roll down the length of the roof.
So this week involved a lot of tedious physical labor. We did some more trail maintenance (last week's scratches hadn't healed yet), and then we started collecting rocks to make raised beds in the garden. This involved picking up the rocks (all around the size of a large grapefruit) in the woods, carrying an armful to the wheelbarrow, wheeling the wheelbarrow to the tractor, placing all the rocks into the bucket of the tractor, following the tractor to the garden, watching the rocks be dumped out, loading up the wheelbarrow again, wheeling the wheelbarrow to the bed being built, and building a mini wall around the bed. The beds are about 40 inches wide and 30 to 40 feet long. Then we covered the onions and garlic that are starting to come up already (always exciting!) with hay, and covered that with plastic mesh to keep the chickens and guineas from digging stuff up. We did a lot of digging this week too. My back is saying, "WTF?! First you make me sit in a chair all day long, and now you subject me to all this lifting and shoveling and raking! And sleeping on a bad mattress! This is crap!" Ah, I love imagining things my body says to me. My biceps are also saying, "Dude, rock on! I knew you hadn't given up on us."
Anyway, having Delite come to visit was awesome. We both said, several times, "This is crazy! We're both in California!" She's heading back to the midwest in a couple weeks, but hopefully I'll get down to Ceres to see the Heifer International educational center where she's volunteering.
Currently, I'm reading the book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver (the author of The Poisonwood Bible and many other good books). She writes about moving her family from Arizona to a small farm in Virginia and their experiment with eating only local food for a year. The books contains more than their story, however, and I'm learning so much about food production and its history. There are a few facts I want to share:
Okay, enough of my soap box. I hope everyone had a delightfully spooky Halloween!
So this week involved a lot of tedious physical labor. We did some more trail maintenance (last week's scratches hadn't healed yet), and then we started collecting rocks to make raised beds in the garden. This involved picking up the rocks (all around the size of a large grapefruit) in the woods, carrying an armful to the wheelbarrow, wheeling the wheelbarrow to the tractor, placing all the rocks into the bucket of the tractor, following the tractor to the garden, watching the rocks be dumped out, loading up the wheelbarrow again, wheeling the wheelbarrow to the bed being built, and building a mini wall around the bed. The beds are about 40 inches wide and 30 to 40 feet long. Then we covered the onions and garlic that are starting to come up already (always exciting!) with hay, and covered that with plastic mesh to keep the chickens and guineas from digging stuff up. We did a lot of digging this week too. My back is saying, "WTF?! First you make me sit in a chair all day long, and now you subject me to all this lifting and shoveling and raking! And sleeping on a bad mattress! This is crap!" Ah, I love imagining things my body says to me. My biceps are also saying, "Dude, rock on! I knew you hadn't given up on us."
Anyway, having Delite come to visit was awesome. We both said, several times, "This is crazy! We're both in California!" She's heading back to the midwest in a couple weeks, but hopefully I'll get down to Ceres to see the Heifer International educational center where she's volunteering.
Currently, I'm reading the book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver (the author of The Poisonwood Bible and many other good books). She writes about moving her family from Arizona to a small farm in Virginia and their experiment with eating only local food for a year. The books contains more than their story, however, and I'm learning so much about food production and its history. There are a few facts I want to share:
- "If every U.S. citizen ate just one meal a week (any meal) composed of locally and organically raised meats and produce, we would reduce our country's oil consumption by over 1.1 million barrels of oil every week. That's not gallons, but barrels."
- "U.S. consumption of 'added fats' has increased by one-third since 1975, and our HFCS [high-fructose corn syrup] is up by 1000 percent. About a third of all our calories now come from what is known, by community consent, as junk food."
- "It's hard to reduce our modern complex of food choices to unifying principles, but this is one that generally works: eating home-cooked meals from whole, in-season ingredients obtained from the most local source available is eating well, in every sense. Good for the habitat, good for the body."
Okay, enough of my soap box. I hope everyone had a delightfully spooky Halloween!
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