<rss version="2.0"><channel><title>RSS Feed for Photo Albums - My Adventures</title><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos</link><description>Adventurers Photo Galleries</description><language>en-us</language><item><title><![CDATA[Hiking the Rio Celeste!]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/147/galleries/166/medium_P2050750.JPG2_10_2010_111118_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[We hiked up 3 miles of forest to the Rio Celeste waterfall, where two normal rivers meet and the minerals within each merge to create this super-neon river called the Rio Celeste!  It's beautiful!]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Hiking+the+Rio+Celeste!/166</link><pubDate>Wed, 10 Feb 2010 11:11:18 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Zip-Lining in Costa Rica]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/147/galleries/165/medium_P2040448.JPG2_10_2010_110356_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[On day 4 we zip-lined over the forest canopy in Costa Rica.  It was a tough decision between concentrating on maintaining alignment and brake and trying to take in all the beauty around and below you!]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Zip-Lining+in+Costa+Rica/165</link><pubDate>Wed, 10 Feb 2010 11:03:56 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Horseback Riding in Costa Rica]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/147/galleries/164/medium_P2020104.JPG2_10_2010_105705_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[We headed, on horseback, through some Costa Rica forests and rivers on our way to a secluded waterfall where we were able to pass some leisure hours away.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Horseback+Riding+in+Costa+Rica/164</link><pubDate>Wed, 10 Feb 2010 10:57:05 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Exploring underground caves in Costa Rica!]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/147/galleries/163/medium_P2020056.JPG2_10_2010_104401_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Janna and I explored some underground caves in Costa Rica on our first day there.  We were proud of our mini-accomplishments going from chamber to chamber.  Turning off ALL the lights gave us a true sense of just how isolated from freedom we were...thank goodness for long battery life!  Heading through holes called "the birthing canal" challenged any sense of claustrophobia we may have had.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Exploring+underground+caves+in+Costa+Rica!/163</link><pubDate>Wed, 10 Feb 2010 10:44:01 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Stonehenge]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/54/galleries/162/medium_Stonehenge_1_20_2010_105712_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[While on archaeology field training at Merton College at Oxford University, I visited Stonehenge with my fellow students.

We were fortunate to be able to visit the site up close; it has since been closed to the public except on certain occasions.  (I think the Druids get special access.)

The scale of the stones that make up the henge are truly stunning, sitting in the middle of the plain.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Stonehenge/162</link><pubDate>Wed, 20 Jan 2010 22:57:12 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Buffalo Hunting in Tanzania]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/1/galleries/161/medium_DSC_0443.JPG1_13_2010_101120_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Buffalo+Hunting+in+Tanzania/161</link><pubDate>Wed, 13 Jan 2010 10:11:20 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Hunting with the Last San/Bushman of Namibia]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/84/galleries/160/medium_IMG_2921.JPG11_9_2009_121431_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Arno and Estelle Oosthuysen of Nhoma Safari Camp have worked closely with the San/Bushman of Tsumkwe District’s sandy Panveld for nearly 20 years.  Their ‘unmass’ tourism offers a unique and authentic safari experience: gathering and hunting in the acacia woodland savannah in the company of what may be the San’s last traditional hunters.  

Namibia’s former ‘Bushmanland’ in the sparsely populated and remote north-east lies in the Otjozondjupa Region; look east of Grootfontein on the map. Two communal conservancies, Nyae Nyae (established in 1998 in former Eastern Bushmanland) and N?a-Jaqna (established in 2003 in former Western Bushmanland) were created by the Community-based Natural Resource Management (CBNRM) to enable the some 3,000 Ju/’hoansi and 7,000 !Kung San living in the region to manage and directly benefit from the conservancies’ natural resources such as wildlife, forests, and both natural and man-made water sources. 

The vast majority of Nyae Nyae’s income (approximately $US130,000 in 2008) and protein in the form of elephant meat is generated from Kai-Uwe Denker’s hunting in the 9,003 sq km conservancy, the sale of crafts at the centre in god-forsaken Tsumkwe, and fees from planned joint-venture lodges and campsites.  Credit must be given to WWF (Worldwide Fund for Nature) and USAID for their support in reintroducing in 1995 eland, oryx, kudu, wildebeest and springbok into Nyae Nyae – an area that bordered by Botswana to the east, Tsumkwe to the west, Kavango to the north, and Hereroland to the south. 

In a region with few jobs, the San have also maintained their rights to gather veld food and to hunt, under quota, eland, kudu, gemsbok, blue wildebeest, red hartebeest, springbok, steenbok and duiker – as long as they are hunted traditionally with a bow and poisoned arrows; nevertheless, there are rumours of animals being taken from horseback with spears.  

These 10,000- to 40,000-year-old gathering and hunting traditions are quickly being eroded and are threatened with extinction within a decade. This is due to pressure from the land-seeking, cattle-herding Herero who are settling in the area despite a veterinary Red Line meant to keep their cattle out and limited numbers of San cattle in; the negative influence of rural slum towns like Tsumkwe with its shebeens, cell phones and Chinese wares; and the loss of a generation of traditional hunters in the 1980s when San males were employed as trackers by the South African Defence Forces in their ‘Bushman Battalion” in their fight against SWAPO’s struggle for independence; and well-intended efforts by NGOs and the (deceased) controversial John Marshall to turn the San into cattle farmers.     

***

Fortunately, the Oosthuysens, with their high-standard eco-operation Nhoma Safari Camp, are helping to maintain the time-honoured knowledge of these hunting and gathering traditions by celebrating them and turning back economic benefits to Nhoma (//nhoq’ma) village. Fees from visitors and monies earned from the sale of handmade beaded jewelry and bags go directly to the village, which in 2008 amounted to N$200,000.

For our safari, we accompanied four Ju/’hoansi (pronounced Zhu-wahnsi, meaning ‘real people’) traditionally dressed hunters – Agarob (or Sao), Jonas (or N?amce), Dawid (or N!ani) and Fanie (or Nqeissi) – into the sandy woodland savannah dominated by acacias, Zambezi and Transvaal teak, wild syringa, false mopane and purple pod terminalia. With Arno as our translator, the hunters showed us which trees, bushes, bulbs, fruits, seeds and pods were on hand, from the more than 100 plants they use which provide nature’s materials for survival in this tough environment.

Of especial interest to modern-day hunters like us are the materials that fill their steenbok skin bag.

For their quivers, they seek the roots of the false umbrella thorn, Acacia luederitzii.  They take a 40 to 60 cm piece of root and leave it overnight in warm ashes.  This makes the bark expand, which loosens the pith core, which they can then pop out, leaving the hollowed quiver, which is bound and capped in steenbok skin. 
For bows, springhare sticks and knobkerries, they use wood from the edible berry-bearing Grewia species (or raisin bushes), specifically G. flava (Brandybush).  

For making the strings and a good-as-store-bought rope for their traps, they gathered Sansevieria, (specifically S. pearsonii or gemsbok horn) which many of us know, for obvious reasons, as the potted plant ‘mother-in-law’s tongue.’ The pulp is scraped off with a digging stick, leaving the long, strong white fibers, which are wound together by rolling along the hunter’s thigh, and then plaited. 

Their light unfleshed link-shaft arrows, which kill with poison and not impact, are comprised of the small arrowheads made from pounding wire into shape, while the collar and shaft made from locally common reeds like Phragmites australis or bluegrass, Andropogon gayanus.  The collar and shaft are bound with sinew and glued with the sap from the roots of the common resin tree, Ozoroa paniculosa, that are incised, then heated by the fire to exude the sap. The idea is for the poisoned tip to stay embedded in the animal, while the reed shaft falls to the ground, which avoids the entire arrow from being dislodged by the fleeing quarry.

PH Rudy Lubin got into the act of building and baiting guineafowl and francolin sensitive snares around a waterhole with our hunters, who later demonstrated the construction of larger traps for steenbok and duiker and how they are ‘funneled’ and tricked into being trapped.

Depending on his physical condition, lucky guests might even follow springhare or porcupine tracks for a real hunt with the San, or even oryx, which is pursued the following day once the poison begins its work, possibly encountering a big-tusked bull elephant along the way, which the San leave in peace. 

Our hunters also showed us how they started fires with colorfully decorated fire sticks from branches from the Mankato tree (Schinziophyton rautanenii), whose nuts we also helped gather from piles of elephant dung, delighting in their flavourful and nutritious kernels. Hot cinders are generated by the friction of drilling a vertical male stick into the notched hole of a female stick.  They also re-cycled empty Bics by filling them with tinder made from burnt fungus that they carried in a small metal container.

That evening we went to Nhoma village, home to about 50 adults and 100 children, to watch the lively flirting game of graceful ladies playing catch with monkey orange fruits, then witnessed the mesmerizing medicinal ‘elephant dance,’ whose intense rhythmic wood-clapping puts dancers into a trance state called !áíá in order to seek advice from their ancestors, the go-betweens between their good and evil gods.  

Nhoma Safari Camp is a very special and authentic operation – not a voyeuristic Disneyland for tourists. We had the freedom to snap photos of dozens of unforgettable moments with a fun-loving people, who are not offended by letting Westerners get close. It is as genuine a contact with the San/Bushman as still possible today.  

For clients hunting anywhere within driving distance of Nhoma, it is well worth the detour and a few additional days in unforgettable Namibia.

Contact.
Website:  www.tsumkwel.iway.na
E-Mail:     tsumkwel@iway.na
Cell:	       264-081-2734606	 

Accommodation.
Sitting on a hill overlooking one of Namibia’s last truly wild areas, Nhoma Safari Camp offers 10 tastefully-appointed double meru tents, laid out with privacy in mind and set on individual raised decks. Ensuite bathroom facilities (some even equipped with full-sized bathtubs) are attached or are in an adjoining thatched area, offering the chance to shower outdoors under the stars.  Couples will be glad to find big, comfy queen-sized beds.  Solar-powered lights work through the night.  

Three full meals a day, taken together with your hosts and other guests, are served buffet style and offer both game and domestic meats.  Although there are no ice cubes, the beer, soft drinks, cocktails, and waters are refrigerator-cold.

Getting there.
If you’re not already hunting in the neighbourhood, then hire a vehicle in Windhoek from Richard Hoff’s Be Local Tourism Services:  www.be-local.com.
Take the tar road B8 north towards Rundu, and overnight at Roy’s Camp (www.royscamp.com) 55 km north of Grootfontein (where you should fill your tank). Turn east 185 km on the well-maintained C44 gravel road; turn left/north at the sign to Nhoma/Aasvoelnes for 40 km (40 km before Tsumkwe); then left up the hill to the camp. 
Or charter to Nhoma’s graded airstrip: S19deg14min14sec and E020deg14min10sec.  Elevation: 3790 ft. 1000 m 09/27

When. 
Although the high-season is from May through September, the camp is open year-round. Count on staying at least two nights; three nights are better if you want to have a chance of following your hunters on a full-fledged hunt for springhare, porcupine, guineafowl, or even oryx.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Hunting+with+the+Last+San+Bushman+of+Namibia/160</link><pubDate>Mon, 09 Nov 2009 12:14:31 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Cedar Mesa plateau, Southeast Utah]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/840/galleries/159/medium_IMG_2598.JPG10_18_2009_70842_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Cedar+Mesa+plateau,+Southeast+Utah/159</link><pubDate>Sun, 18 Oct 2009 19:08:42 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Fisher Towers, Utah]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/840/galleries/158/medium_IMG_2385.JPG10_18_2009_63849_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[The pictures do all the talking at Fisher Towers, especially at sunset...]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Fisher+Towers,+Utah/158</link><pubDate>Sun, 18 Oct 2009 18:38:49 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Rafting the Colorado River in SE Utah]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/840/galleries/157/medium_285.JPG10_18_2009_23024_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Rafting+the+Colorado+River+in+SE+Utah/157</link><pubDate>Sun, 18 Oct 2009 14:30:24 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Southeast Utah]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/840/galleries/156/medium_462.JPG10_18_2009_20048_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Southeast+Utah/156</link><pubDate>Sun, 18 Oct 2009 14:00:48 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Southeast Utah]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/840/galleries/155/medium_058.JPG10_18_2009_12407_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Family trip to Colorado National Monument, Arches National Park, Dead Horse point State Park, September/October 2009]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Southeast+Utah/155</link><pubDate>Sun, 18 Oct 2009 13:24:07 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Maine Moose Safari]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/391/galleries/154/medium_moosehead 034.JPG9_27_2009_83048_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Photos of Trip to Maine]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Maine+Moose+Safari/154</link><pubDate>Sun, 27 Sep 2009 20:30:48 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Camping and Climbing at Beam Rock]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/880/galleries/153/medium_IMG_1477.JPG9_7_2009_105710_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Hi, I'm Jake.  I'm in forth grade and i love to camp and climb rocks.  on Labor Day weekend me and my mom and my brother Trevor met my dad at the ridge after school to camp.  on the hike to the campsite we saw a bear!  It ran across the trail about 30 feet in front of us!  It was teh first bear I have ever seen.

We set up a nice little camp, and Dad cooked us tortelini and we ate sandwhichs and chocolate around the campfire.  After we went to bed, the raccoons decided to have a party, making all kinds od wierd noises.  but they didn't get our food, we hung it good way up in a tree.

In the morning we found a giant toad.  Then we packed up camp and walked mom and trevor back to the car.  They were going to Idlewild, but Dad and I were going to Beam rocks to climb.  

We walked about an hour to get to Beam rocks.  the rocks are awesome!  They have tons of cracks and slots to explore, and lots of hand holds and footholds to climb.  I love it!  See all of my pictures of climbing.

Dad and I pretended that zombies came from the cracks and caves in the rocks and were chasing us.  We found secret passages to escape from them, and before we left we pretended we blew it up with depth charges.  but a couple of zombies may have survived...

Dad and I were pretty cut up and bruised and dirty from palying on the rocks all day.  We found the biggest spider i have ever seen walking thru the woods.  and we saw a pileated woodpecker.  Then we met mom and trevor and went and got some fried chicken - we were really hungry after running from zombies all day!]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Camping+and+Climbing+at+Beam+Rock/153</link><pubDate>Mon, 07 Sep 2009 10:57:10 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[pictures album]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/804/galleries/152/medium_1.JPG8_31_2009_122049_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/pictures+album/152</link><pubDate>Mon, 31 Aug 2009 12:20:49 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Up to Long's Peak]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/829/galleries/151/medium_Longs 1_8_29_2009_121337_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[My first "real" hike to a summit.  Knowing that compared to other adventurers in this forum, this is probably pretty tame, but for me, one of the hardest physical things I've done.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Up+to+Long's+Peak/151</link><pubDate>Sat, 29 Aug 2009 12:13:36 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Gore Range, CO]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/840/galleries/150/medium_017.JPG8_29_2009_113215_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[coming soon...]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/The+Gore+Range,+CO/150</link><pubDate>Sat, 29 Aug 2009 11:32:15 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Challenge of the Mountain]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/840/galleries/149/medium_Rainier - Reflection_8_29_2009_111059_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Coming soon...]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/The+Challenge+of+the+Mountain/149</link><pubDate>Sat, 29 Aug 2009 11:10:59 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Color and Clarity]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/840/galleries/148/medium_DSCN1876.JPG8_29_2009_104504_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Coming soon...]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Color+and+Clarity/148</link><pubDate>Sat, 29 Aug 2009 10:45:04 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Grand I & II]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/840/galleries/147/medium_1-DSCN2737_8_28_2009_70439_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[“God said Time
Time belongs to me
Time’s my secret weapon
My final advantage” 
Dan Bern, “God Said No”


December 12, 2007—2:45 a.m. - Indian Gardens campsite, Grand Canyon National Park — The night is perfectly still. Forced from my warm down sleeping bag by a bathroom call, I was initially disappointed that the earlier starry sky had been replaced by a cloud bank; but now I stand still and just enjoy the rare perfect silence. 
Suddenly, a loud sound, like a tarp flapping in the wind, crescendos loudly through the canyon. It takes me a few seconds to recognize the sound and settle my nerves, once I am sure the rock fall is nowhere near our camp. But the slide was loud enough to wake my deep sleeping hiking partner, Mark.
“What was that?” comes a slightly concerned inquiry from Mark’s tent.
“That?” I contemplated. “That was the canyon at work.” 

At work indeed. One grain of sand rushing down the Colorado river at a time; one sliver of rock exfoliated by a frozen, expanding water droplet; one rock fall at a time. Geologists tell us that at one time most of the western portion of the North American continent was at or below sea level, and the ancestral Colorado River meandered over a large plain. About 70 million years ago, a 130,000-square mile area of the southwestern United States called the Colorado Plateau was gradually squeezed up thousands of feet high as the Pacific continental plate crashed against and pushed under the North American plate, close to the modern day California coastline, sending powerful geologic reverberations eastward that thrust up the Rockies. The Grand Canyon began to appear as the sediment-laden Colorado and its tributaries, aided by rain, ice and gravity, worked to deepen and widen the canyon to it’s present depth and width. One grain of sand, one rock fall at a time; repeat as necessary over 5 or 6 million years, until you have a grand canyon.

But I cannot comprehend this. Not now; not after having descended to the bottom; not after exploring only one of the countless box canyons; not after watching the sunset and sunrise from the Tonto Plateau, where the beauty and immenseness of the canyon is on full display.

Maybe when I peered into the canyon for the first time four days ago, it made sense on some logical basis. The strata of rock, each a different color, each representing a different chapter in Earth’s history, conformed to the textbook geological theories. I snapped a picture and said that’s nice.

No, the canyon did not stop me in my tracks or take my breath away upon first inspection; certainly not like the first glimpse of the Yosemite Valley through the Wawona tunnel did. Perhaps my mind was still in the textbooks at that time and I saw only the explained; or perhaps I had seen enough pictures of this over-photographed but never fully captured place that the suspense was gone.

On first visiting the Grand Canyon, few visitors are immediately able to grasp and appreciate the scene spread before them. The forms are unfamiliar and the scale too outrageous. In some sense the spectacle simply does not register in the brain; the eye records but the mind look away. The geologist Clarence Dutton, writing in the late nineteenth century, called the Grand Canyon “a great innovation in modern ideas of scenery” and said that “its full appreciation is a special culture, requiring time, patience and long familiarity for its consummation.” I was glad not to be simply snapping a picture from the rim and moving on; I was hoping to soak in as much of this special culture as I could over the next few days, and perhaps come to a deeper appreciation.

Earlier today, standing at Plateau Point, in the middle of the Canyon, with the river 1,400 feet below me and the rim 3,800 feet above me, only then did I began to grasp what is so obvious but so misunderstood from the top—scale. No photograph can ever truly capture the Grand Canyon. A 288 mile long canyon, up to 18 miles across, in some places over a mile deep. A living, breathing wilderness and an intact ecosystem. A crash coarse in Earth history offering up evidence that is almost 2 billion years old. A testament to the timelessness of creation. 
I struggle to comprehend the scale of time on display here, despite my first person glimpse into canyon carving tonight. How do you contemplate the significance of the patience that created this place? How do you contemplate the briefness of our time here? How do you contemplate a million years, let alone the almost 2 billion years of rock exposed at the bottom of this Earth history window? Timelessness, the secret weapon of the creator, indeed.

Time seemed to escape me in 2007. I took a promotion to a very demanding position, and most of my time was devoted to work. I almost lost sight of my vow to every year visit a spectacular place, to reclaim at least a little piece of my soul lost to duty. By October I had resigned that I would skip 2007.

Then the president of my company, a healthy, vibrant man of only 57 years, suddenly died. At his memorial service I realized how little time I might have, and remembered my vow. The next day I made permit requests to backpack the Grand Canyon, a place I have always wanted to experience.

I originally planned to visit solo; not my first choice, but better than not visiting at all. Then I found airfare at a steal, and decided to bring the whole family out after my backpack. And then Mark was able to wrangle a week away from his job duties to join me on the trip. Everything seemed to fall into place.

I didn’t realize at the time what a blessing it would be to visit the Grand in December. True, I knew the crowds at the most popular US national park would be absent. But it certainly didn’t seem like a blessing when traffic on I-17 outside Flagstaff slowed to a crawl in a snowstorm. I worried about what the weather would do to our trip.



December 9, 2007 — The cleanness of a fresh blanket of snow, the scent of ponderosa pine, the smoky haze of frozen breath, and the excitement of adventure tingling up our spines greet us as we step out of our hotel room on the south rim. The first glimpse of the canyon proper comes from the south rim outside the Bright Angel lodge; the striated bands of white snow and red rock creating a horizontal mosaic of colors, depth and time that I don’t even remotely understand or appreciate.

Mark and I board the hiker shuttle for the short trip to the South Kaibab trailhead. Since I had planned the trip as a solo trek, I had permits to traverse down the South Kaibab trail and back up via the Bright Angel trail, the two “superhighways” of Grand Canyon trail system. Had I known at the time Mark would be able to join me, we probably would have opted for a more remote trail. Sure enough, there are 25 people at the snow-covered trailhead with us.

As usual, our packs are the largest of any of the hikers heading down into the canyon, probably pushing 50 pounds and stuffed with two of everything – tents, stoves, water filters, first aid kits. But they feel light, given the adrenaline of adventure – here we were, embarking on exploring one of the wonders of the world!

The hiking down South Kaibab is easy, even with a couple inches of snow – the trail is expertly maintained and stepped. I wear yak-trax, too, which helps with traction on the steep sections. The hardest part, though, is to not stop around every bend and take a picture.

Our goal today is Bright Angel campground, 7 miles below. Weaving through the switchbacks, taking in the constantly changing canyon and sky, breathing in the fresh air – it doesn’t even remotely feel like effort. We stop when necessary, to take a picture or snack, to chat with folks along the trail, or to try to reclaim our breath, taken away by the scenery.

The views at every turn are unbelievable and the highlights are many. We stop to admire the view from a very exposed section of trail with a couple hundred-foot drop off just a foot away. A raven perches in a juniper snag against a blue sky and the red rocks. A snow-covered amphitheater studded with full-grown trees that are dwarfed by the grandeur of the canyon, completely disguising the scope of what we are looking at.

The first good view of the main architect of this canyon – the Colorado river – comes from a rock outcropping just below the Tonto platform; we’re still about 1,400 feet above it. Due to recent rains, the water is milk shake muddy, loaded with canyon carving sediment, the way the river used to look before the Glen Canyon dam upstream trapped most of the sediment and turned the river green. There is a group a rafters stopping at the Bright Angel beach for lunch; we can also make out stables, a heliport, and a suspension bridge at the canyon bottom. But the most striking feature of the Bright Angel/Phantom Ranch area is the bright yellow leaves of the cottonwoods that grow in the riparian camp. They add even more color to our already overloaded visuals.

It’s only another hour down the steep trail on the inner gorge; soon we are walking through a tunnel and across the Colorado river on the black Kaibab suspension bridge. There is a sandy beach on the other side, were the rafters lunched, and the remains of an Indian pueblo, where perhaps three or four families lived hundreds of years ago. We pass the stables and cross another bridge, this time over Bright Angel creek, and pick out a campsite.

The Cottonwoods are even more impressive from under their canopy. They are maybe 80 feet tall, and shimmering yellow; when the sun pokes through the clouds, it’s like they are plugged in, aglow against the dark rocks of the inner canyon.

I expected to be appreciative of the rocks, but I did not expect the impressive presence of trees and forest in Grand Canyon national park. The Ponderosa pine forest of the south rim is as beautiful as a Sierran forest, especially tinged with snow. The gnarled junipers, scattered throughout the canyon, beg admiration for the sheer audacity of their attempt to survive in such an inhospitable environment. But the cottonwoods take the prize for top tree in the Grand Canyon, and I’m ecstatic to sleep under their welcoming golden branches.

Camp is set up quickly, followed by a dehydrated meal of rice and beans that falls far short of the grandeur the place. But that’s fine, we’re not here to eat. To make up for our less than stellar meal, we make for Phantom Ranch, less than a 1/4 mile from our campsite. Phantom Ranch is a collection of cabins, built in 1922 to provide visitors with food, lodging and comfort against the austere backdrop of the canyon. Most of the folks we started the trek with this morning are staying at Phantom Ranch; mules carried their gear. Other folks rode the mules themselves down to Phantom Ranch. While Mark and I are probably just as comfortable in our tents, the ranch does offer one amenity that even we can’t carry – beer.

So promptly at 8 o’clock, we are lined up outside the Phantom Ranch mess hall for happy hour, to wash down our dinner. The Tecate beer is refreshing, and playing cards and conversing with people from around the world is a great way to spend a couple of hours. Most folks we recognize from the hike down, but others are here, too.

Returning to camp, we spot a gray fox hunting in the meadows. Deer graze the grasses, their eyes glowing yellow in our headlamp beams. And the ringtails are practically crawling over us in camp; obviously they’re used to people, and the crumbs they leave. Mark and I sip a bit of whiskey, and the flowing conversation shifts from the timeless canyon to the mysterious soul, to the comfort and bliss of this trip. We retire tired but content.

December 10, 2007 — The rains move in overnight. Of course, it wouldn’t be right to go on a trip with Mark without rain! It’s still spitting in the morning as we make coffee and breakfast, so we put on our rain gear in preparation for our day hike. The plan today is to explore the Bright Angel canyon up the North Kaibab trail, to a place called Ribbon Falls.

We set a fast pace, since we are free of the heavy packs, and to ward off the chill. God it feels great to be hiking here, feeling the blood pumping through our veins, senses fully receptive and alive!

The North Kaibab trail cuts through a narrow box canyon carved by Bright Angel creek. It’s impressive, and once again we snap pictures regularly. We cross four bridges back and forth over the creek; the trail is sometimes carved right into the vertical rock. Rock wrens and juncos flit through the scrub, and we stop to watch a loggerhead shrike hunt, its steely gray, black and white feathers in sharp contrast to the dark rock of the inner canyon. A dipper pumps his tail before diving into the rushing water, foraging for aquatic insects.

Three hours later we arrive at Ribbon falls; I was not expecting much, maybe just a trickle of water, but the falls is impressive. The water cascades from an unseen plateau maybe 100 feet above, through a crack in the red rocks. It crashes onto a travertine that is covered with mosses of brilliant green. The scene is breathtaking – the red rocks, the blue sky, the sparkling water, the bright green moss – awesome!

We make our way up and behind the waterfall and have lunch there, watching the sun play hide and seek with the puffy white clouds. After lunch we explore a nearby alcove, and get another perspective on the waterfall and just a little more understanding of the relationship between water and rock that makes this place so special.

We set a good pace for the return 6 miles back to camp, knowing that we don’t want to miss dinner tonight at Phantom Ranch. Yes, no dehydrated food tonight, we splurged and made reservations at the ranch. It spurs us on despite our tired legs.

About a mile and a half from Phantom Ranch, we enter the narrowest portion of the canyon, appropriately called The Box. Coming around a bend, we surprise two desert bighorn sheep ewes, down at the creek for a drink. They quickly run down stream upon spying us. We grab our cameras in hot pursuit, hoping to get a picture.

But when we round the bend, the surprise is on us; something downstream must be an even bigger threat to the ewes, because they are running up the trail at full speed – directly at us! Mark and I have only a few seconds to ask whether it’s better to head down to the stream or hug the mountain. We don’t have enough time to answer, however; Mark makes towards the creek, while I try to make myself as flat as I can against the canyon wall and hope the sheep run past me.

But in an amazing display of agility, just before the sheep get to where we are on the trail, they somehow scale the vertical canyon walls in a full sprint! Within seconds they are 25 feet above me; I’m focusing my zoom and clicking pictures before I realize they are directly above me and are kicking down rocks. One lands within a few feet of me before I wisely head down the trail. Wow, talk about excitement on the trail!!!

We make it to dinner on time. Fueled by 12 miles on the canyon trails, it is the best trail dinner ever – steak, potatoes, vegetables, chili, salad, cornbread, wine, and chocolate cake for dessert. Wow, as far as you can get from dehydrated! We sip a little whiskey back at camp around our tea light “campfire” (no campfires are allowed in the park), returning to Phantom Ranch happy hour for some more wine and cards, and then back to camp, where I sleep like a rock, despite more rain again overnight.

December 11, 2007— It’s still raining in the morning, but we enjoy a hearty, warm breakfast at Phantom Ranch, a great way to start the day. Today we have to pack up to move to Indian Gardens, our next camp halfway back up the Bright Angel trail. Mark comes up with the brilliant idea to move our stuff down to the group shelter area, and we pack up out of the rain while chatting to a soloing kiwi boy (who gave me excellent tips for my upcoming dream trip to New Zealand!) and a crazy guy who has been living in the canyon for two years.

We are soon on the trail again, in a light rain. The pack is full weight again, and my legs are tired from the two previous days hiking, but I love it. I love having my complicated life boiled down to just one foot in front of the other. I’m truly enjoying this trip, even (especially?) the “hard work” of the heavy hauls.

The Colorado is especially turbulent after all the rain, frothing underneath the silver Bright Angel suspension bridge. After crossing the river, we traverse west along the river trail, enjoying the spectacular inner gorge. It is here, at the bottom of the canyon, that the oldest rocks exposed by the canyon are found. The dark formation of the Vishnu schist is almost 2 billion years old, some of the oldest exposed rock on Earth. Here at the bottom, I finally begin to grasp the vastness of the view from the top. But it’s still beyond my grasp to truly understand that these vertical rocks are almost 2 billion years old. One foot in front of the other, the mind in contemplation, the senses in awe.

The climb up to Indian Gardens starts where Garden creek meets the Colorado. We’re now climbing steeply up the gorge carved by the creek, but again, it does not feel like work. I’m conscious again of being happy, truly happy, as I trek up the canyon.

The overhang of the Tonto plateau seems too far away, but step by step it gets closer. Soon we are entering the cottonwoods that thrive in the riparian sections of the canyon. As in Bright Angel campground, they are brilliantly yellow, welcoming us to our Indian Gardens campsite after only 3 hours of hiking.

We set up camp leisurely, hoping that the weather will clear and dry things out. And the sun keeps trying to help us, poking out of the blue holes and illuminating this idyllic setting. We can see the rim from here, and the rain we’ve been enjoying down below has been adding white to the upper reaches. Three sides of our camp are dominated by the immense walls of the canyon, striated in white at the top. The view to the northeast, however, opens up above the Tonto Plateau, the most beautiful and expansive view of the canyon we’ve enjoyed so far.

The campsites at Indian Gardens, like those at Bright Angel, have more creature comforts than wilderness sites, such as steel critter boxes so we don’t have to hang our food, poles for hanging our packs away from the critters, not to mention pit toilets and running water that doesn’t need filtered. And with no one else in camp, we enjoy these extras without the bothersome crowds. With the extra time, we brew up some tea to ward off the cold after setting up camp.

We decide to trek the mile and a half down to Plateau Point for the sunset. The sky is clearing, and big puffy clouds filter over the horizon. The trail to the Point is welcomly flat, a true desert habitat studded with prickly pear and barrel cactus, banana yuccas and Utah agave.

But it’s hard to appreciate the desert plants, because the technicolor spectacular of sunset is beginning. The expansive plateau gets swallowed up in the painted mesas and buttes, the highest stripped in white. The rocks and clouds seem to blend together, making it hard to discern where earth ends and sky begins. And both rocks and clouds change color with the setting sun. Beautiful. Amazing. Spectacular. Sitting on Plateau Point, legs dangling 1,400 feet above the darkening Colorado river, watching the show – this is the Grand Canyon of my dreams!

As an added bonus, we have cell phone service on the plateau, and I’m able to talk with my family, who will be joining me tomorrow on the rim. And later, back at camp, we’re able to get Tom-ass on the phone – damn, he should be here! We settle for a promise of a reunited hurricane brothers trip to Colorado next fall, though.

Back at camp, our dehydrated beans, rice and cheese dinner disappoints once again. But we still have some whiskey for sipping, and soon the night sky is speckled with countless stars. What a beautiful night! We can even make out the silhouette and lights of the Kolb studio 3,000 feet above us. We retire early, anxious to get into our warm bags for the expected cold night.

December 12, 2007—The rock fall during the night added to the epic ness of this trip for me, and I awoke early, as planned, hoping to get out to Plateau Point for the sunrise. Mark was still snoring loudly, so I make off solo for the point. Again, I want to pay attention to the desert community just waking up, but again, the show starting in front of me is too spectacular. Again the rocks and clouds change color, this time with the rising sun; and this morning there is even more snow on the upper canyon, mesa and buttes.

Cheops Pyramid, directly north of where I stand and over a mile away, is the star this morning. It’s brilliantly lit in blazing red, backed by the white stripped frosting of the far away north rim. The desert scrub and deer below the butte add green and life to the scene. Wow, one of the best sunrises I’ve ever witnessed.

On the way back to camp, I do have some time to take in the wildlife. This has been the most pleasant surprise of the trip for me; I simply did not expect the amount of wildlife in the desert as we’ve experienced. This morning a family of deer, 4 does and one 8-point buck, graze in the scrub under the blazing mesas. A strikingly beautiful black throated sparrow perched atop a yucca for a full five minutes, allowing me excellent views thru my binos. Rock wrens and juncos flit at my feet, while ravens circle overhead, riding the thermals. I keep hoping to turn one of the ravens into a California condor, but that’s not to be on this trip, and leaves me with another reason to come back.

Today’s our last day in the canyon, and I’m in no hurry to leave. I don’t make it back to camp until 9:30, and I leisurely sip coffee and eat breakfast, enjoying the setting, the camp, the views. Mark has already started packing up, but I’m hoping the sun and wind will dry my tent. Finally I realize it won’t and try to flap it dry, but in the process I startle a mule and rider heading down towards Phantom Ranch. Geez, I certainly didn’t want to do that, and no harm was done, but it was a little bit of payback for all the acrid dark brown piss puddles and green dollops from the mules that we have to dodge on the trail. I won’t miss the pico de gallo, as we’ve dubbed the trail mule droppings!!!

We have only 4-1/2 miles to cover today, but over 3,000 feet of vertical. Again today, it does not feel like work to me, and again, I’m totally enjoying the hike, feeling completely happy. Despite the cold, we hike in just a long-sleeve tee, our exertion more than keeping us warm. I put on the yak-trax as the trail becomes more snow covered, but again, the snow has added immeasurably to the scenery. The cold has eaten the last of my camera batteries, so I just try to take it all in and enjoy it.

Soon enough we are at the top of the south rim. Tourists from around the world are snapping pictures; this will be their only canyon experience. I look down into the canyon. I can see the golden cottonwoods of Indian Gardens; the trail leading out to Plateau Point; the walls of our campsite, culminating in the Battleship. It looks so different from the view I first took in four days ago. Not that anything noticeable has physically changed; even “our” rock fall was an inconsequential blip. No, what changed is a deeper appreciation and a little bit of understanding of what I am looking at. True, even a lifetime of exploration of this canyon and its environs can’t convey a full understanding to the forces and time it took to create it. But four days and 36 miles of travel through the canyon has awakened me to this treasure. I’ll surely return to this spectacular place…
Post Script— Debbie, Jake and Trevor joined me at the south rim, after a long and tedious flight from Pittsburgh and a 5 hour drive. After a late evening meal, we retired early, a slight case of jet lag, but underlying joy at all of us being here.

The next day at the rim is magical. A deep freeze has set in, and a frozen cloud mists everything, forming crystalline patterns on everything and tingeing the forest in silver. We explore the views from the rim, and I can sense real appreciation for this view, this canyon, from everyone, even little T. We duck into souvenir shops when we’re cold, and enjoy the enchanted forest. Deer and elk graze along the rim, and we’re entertained by the snow, the tourists and the spectacular views.

The next day I rouse everyone (grumpily!) from their slumber for the sunrise—and it is worth it. The morning is cloudless and the canyons mesa and buttes are lit up layer by layer. The colorful rock layers are more vibrant than I’ve seen them all week. Wow, these are the memories we’ll keep forever… 










Interlude

“In order to live free and happily, you must sacrifice boredom. It is not always an easy sacrifice.” Illusions, Richard Bach

I’ve had a lot to time to think about the Grand Canyon, creation, time and our place in it. I’ve read more from geologists, mythologists, philosophers and mystics (are they all the same?), but time on a large scale is still an obtuse concept. I’ve found it easier to consider other, smaller scale things that take time and patience to create - like soil. 

First the barren rocks are thrust up out of the sea by the movement of tectonic plates or molten lava. The rock interacts with the atmosphere and the wind, and lichen appear, followed by mosses and other lower plants forms. Over time, the remains of these pioneers create the right conditions to support higher plant forms, and grasses and shrubs appear, followed by trees and forests. The soil that supports the plants supports animals, again, starting with the simplest cellular organisms but gradually supporting bigger more complex animals. Eventually an entire self-supporting eco-system stands where there was once only barren rock. All you need is time…

I can see the simple beauty and truth of Darwin much clearer now, after witnessing a glimpse of the earth scale of time in the Canyon. The diversity of life on earth seems totally possibly when viewed thru the spectrum of time. Maybe all things are possible with enough time. Maybe Dan Bern is right. 

What I don’t understand is why Darwin, or geology or even science, causes such a controversy when viewed through a religious prism. Why can’t natural selection, the movement of the tectonic plates, the big bang theory, or even the universal creation myths, peacefully co-exist with the concept of god or a creator? After all, wouldn’t even god need a mechanism for creation, too?

There are many things that I don’t understand about contemporary religious thought, and there are many things I don’t understand about my own spirituality. So many theories and philosophies, so many customs, so many blinders on our thinking. I think I am ready to admit I don’t even know the true nature of reality.

But I’m asking the questions— which is not easy. It is so much easier to just accept what you are told, to accept the dream of the planet, to accept the reality imposed on you by your upbringing, family and culture. And I really feel I’m learning. I’m learning to undo some of my learning, learning to trust in myself, learning that I have so much to learn. I feel I’m on the right path...to what, I don’t know yet, but I do know that it’s towards something, down a different path...further down my path. 

My path (well, that and cheap airfare!) is pointing me once again to the Grand Canyon...




”The real journey of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” Marcel Proust



February 19, 2008—”It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…” And indeed it is a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a gloriously sunny day to commemorate the 40th anniversary of Mister Roger’s Neighborhood (according to the NPR report that woke me up.) Somehow, hearing that soothing voice, with it’s calming message of belief in me, is exactly what I need to hear this morning. 

The neighborhood this morning happens to be Flagstaff, AZ, a fantastic mountain town tucked under the San Francisco peaks, perfect cylindrical volcanic cones that rise over 5,000 feet above the Mogollon Rim on the southwestern edge of the Colorado Plateau. Mt. Humphrey’s is the highest point in Arizona, topping out at 12,633 feet, a beautiful mountain, and a mecca for snowboarders and skiers this time of year, mountain bikers in the warmer months. The town is dominated by Northern Arizona University, student population 20,000, and percolates with a fresh buzz. Young people in shorts pedal to through the cold and snow on bikes, on their way to the coffee shops, bike shops, art galleries and brew pubs that dominate main street. I’m sure I could really get to like this town, and I’m glad I have a night here after my hike.

Yesterday was a tough travel day, though; a long flight from Pittsburgh to Phoenix, followed by a long, cramped shuttle ride from Phoenix to Flagstaff. I have every detail of this trip planned out, and it’s mostly going according to plan (except for the inability to get a bottle of whiskey at duty-free in the airport while I tried to kill 2 hours waiting for the shuttle—oh well, I found a package store in Flagstaff that was open late night.) 

But traveling alone, especially embarking on a big adventure like this, is not fun; the nervous tension of unfamiliarity, usually shared amongst traveling partners, is yours alone to bear. It tired me out; that, and the lack of sleep due to the freight trains that went by my hotel, whistles blaring, every hour or so throughout the whole night. But if parenting has taught me anything, it’s that you don’t “need” sleep.

Lying awake at night on the eve of a big trip, I thought about why I’m here. In between specific thoughts about details, like how to pack and what supplies I still need, I superficially wonder why I do things like this. But there is an underlying confidence this time, a feeling that I’m supposed to be here, like I’m here to learn something. Indeed, so many people and events have helped me get this far—I think about the jet boil fuel waiting for me at the hotel front desk, delivered there free of charge by a complete stranger (big shout out to Galen from Aspen Sports!) Maybe I just need to work on my confidence, to learn to trust myself. Maybe I just need to accept a little more of what Fred Rogers is preaching…”I like you just the way you are.”


After my complimentary breakfast at the hotel, I meet Cliff from Flagstaff Express shuttle service at the train station for the 2 hour trip to the south rim of the grand canyon. He takes the scenic shortcut, up AZ highway 180, weaving through the beautiful white-barked aspen and ponderosa pine forest, under the glistening San Francisco range. Excitement builds with each mile, and Cliff gets me to the Bright Angel Lodge fifteen minutes early.

Wow, I’m back! I sneak a peak at the canyon before grabbing a bagel and banana at the Lodge. I just finish the banana when my taxi driver Sue arrives. I enjoy the bagel and Sue’s tips for future canyon backpacking trips (Deer Creek on the North Rim is filed away for the next $62 airfare special!) before I’m abandoned at the remote Hermit’s Rest trailhead.

Suddenly alone at the rim, my perspective shifts dramatically. The hustle and bustle of the travel, cities, shuttles, and planning, is replaced with—nothing. Nothing; no sounds, no people, no deadlines, no agendas. Wow, I feel the impact immediately, and smile—yeah, this is right.

I snap a few pics and a self portrait under the trailhead monument, and then shoulder my heavy pack—another drawback of going alone. There is no one to share equipment with, so you’ve got to lug everything yourself. But I feel freer now, even under the 55 pound weight, than I do most of the time stuffed in my beige cube, and I sail off the rim and down the Hermit trail on wings of excitement.

The Hermit Trail is unmaintained, the ruins of a pathway that hasn’t seen a trail crew in over 80 years. The NPS warns that the Hermit “represents a major step up in terms of physical difficulty and potential hazard” from the Corridor Trails of Bright Angel and Kaibab. I suppose these words registered somewhere in my planning, but they didn’t become real until my boots hit the ground. A mile down—”the upper section of the Hermit is steep and sustained, dropping almost 2,000 vertical feet in the first 2.5 miles”, warns the NPS—and I understand what the warnings mean. There is ice and packed snow on the north-facing sections, and loose rocks litter the trail. My attention is distracted by the views, of course, and I’m not fully concentrating on my footing. This costs me about a mile and a half into the descent—I have a nasty fall, painfully twisting my left ankle and bloodying my right shin.

Shaken, I take a few minutes to asses the ankle. It hurts, but I’ve twisted my ankle so many times it’s more like a stretched out rubber band now than the tight tendons of my youth. It gives out the first time I attempt to put weight on it, almost causing a second fall. But no way will I let this ruin my trip. I remove my pack, lace my boots tight to keep any swelling down, and resolve that it will be okay. More importantly, I also resolve to concentrate more on my footing.

I continue down, more slowly now, making sure I put on the Yak Trax in the icy sections. It’s a pain, putting them on in the shadows and taking them off in the sun, but better safe than sorry. I’m also bummed I have to constantly look down at the trail instead of enjoying the views, but I have no one to rely on here but myself. My perspective shifts from the wide open space of the immense canyon, to an inward focus as I step deliberately. 

Needless to say, the going is slow. I make Santa Maria spring, 2.5 miles in, at 12:30, almost two hours since I embarked. There I meet Steve and Mary, a couple in their 50’s from Iowa. They’re amiable, friendly, talkative—and painfully slow. They hit the trail at 8:30—four hours to make 2.5 miles! I bid them adieu with a warning that the worst is still to come, according to the NPS. “The descent becomes unrelenting at Cathedral Stairs” followed by “an endless series of rocky switchbacks.” Steve and Mary disregard my insistence and lounge a little longer at the rest shelter at Santa Maria springs, but promise we’ll meet up again at Monument Creek, where we’re both scheduled to spend the night.

As I’m finding out, the NPS descriptions are very accurate. After the springs, there is a maddeningly long traverse along the contour lines of the Hermit Creek canyon, an endless series of ins and outs but never dropping any further towards my goal, which is always in sight—the Tonto Plateau. And the rock slide areas are challenging, especially where they wipe out switchbacks. It requires careful route finding to not lose the trail, and picking slowly, each foot placement needing to be thought out to avoid another fall. Again, my focus is forced internal, and I’m left with my thoughts and concentration.

After a nice break at aptly named Lookout Point, I do eventually make the Cathedral Stairs and begin the descent. It is tough, although after having experienced the Wiggles in Zion National Park and the 99 switchbacks on Mt. Whitney, these are hardly “endless”. 

Once through the switchbacks, there is a long descending traverse towards the junction with the Tonto. It’s here that I meet a father and son team, again from Iowa. We chat briefly; they are camping at the Hermit Creek camp, so when we hit the Hermit-Tonto junction, they are only a half mile from camp. I have almost two miles to go still.

I know it’s late afternoon and there’s not a whole lot of daylight left, so it puts some urgency into my steps. The Tonto is much easier hiking than the Hermit, and I make good time. I get my first glimpse of the Colorado River from the Tonto as I round the bend and enter the Monument Creek drainage, but I’m anxious to get camp set up so I don’t dally.

The plateau fissures into the erosion channel of Monument Creek, and I begin the descent. Here the trail is marked by rock cairns, which are sometimes hard to see; I wonder if Steve and Mary will be able to find the route in the dark, since it’s now apparent they won’t get into camp before then. Again, the going is slow as I pick my way down into the box canyon. I also keep listening for water, but the drainage seems dry, fueling concern.

But after 20 minutes of rough, rocky descending, I round a bend guarded by the impressive 100-foot phallic Monument Tower, and look down on camp. Tom-ass would like this location—it’s a real “tucker-in”, a shrubby bowl guarded by vertical stone walls on three sides. I can hear the cascade of running water, too—ahh, home.

I have company in camp. A brightly colored tent is tucked in a alcove along the western side of the canyon; clothes and equipment are strewn about the campsite. A young woman is down at the creek, bathing or doing dishes, while her companion lounges in camp. The trail into camp doesn’t take me close enough to them to say hello, so I continue in search of my own campsite.

Further into the wooded glen, I meet Randy, a 40-ish solo hiker from Annapolis, MD. We chat about trail conditions, camp amenities and the beauty of the canyon. I tell Randy to be on the lookout for the after dark arrival of Steve and Mary, if indeed they do make it this far. Although I anticipated and prepared for solitude, it’s comforting to know others are here.

I find a perfect little tent site under the welcoming branches of a mesquite tree, and quickly set up camp. I can hear Randy preparing dinner not too far from my camp; meanwhile, the young couple on the ridge have taken the cue from the beautiful natural setting, and either don’t notice or don’t care that others are in camp as they run around au naturel. Wow, boobies in the backcountry.

I’m tired from all the traveling to get here, and sore from the long hike down; it feels good to lounge on my camp chair. Dinner is great, spinach tortellini with olive oil and parmesan cheese. I’ve got everything within arm’s reach, not having to get up during or after dinner while darkness overtakes the canyon. A few sips of whiskey while waiting for the full moon to crest the canyon lip is the evening’s entertainment. First the west walls of the canyon behind me are illuminated, contrasting with the black walls that I face. Finally, the near full moon crests the lip, and it’s like someone turned on a glow light. A great horned owl hoots over his nocturnal domain. Peace and drowsiness overtake me, and I retire for the night. 

February 20, 2008—I slept great, despite waking up on a deflated mattress. I can’t find a hole when I blow it back up—maybe I didn’t close the valve tight enough, whatever. Oh yeah, my beach ball pillow died overnight, too, an unpatchable hole. But my ankle sure is inflated this morning. The top part of my foot has developed a big baseball sized balloon. It’s uncomfortable, but doesn’t really hurt. I take a couple ibuprophen to reduce the swelling. 

Lucky for my ankle, I’ve planned to spend tonight at this camp, too. I’d planned to do a day hike, either down to the beach and river, or up into the remote off-trail reaches of Monument Canyon. Given my experience hiking on the rocks yesterday, I opt for the easier trek down to the beach.

The father and son from Iowa pass through camp early this morning, and tell us that Steve and Mary were camped on the Plateau just beyond the junction with the Hermit. Obviously we knew they didn’t make it to Monument camp, but I’m relieved to hear they were okay. Randy is leisurely breaking camp, hiking west to Hermit camp today, and the young couple from the ridge cruises through our part of camp while I’m enjoying my morning coffee. Turns out they are from the canyons of New York City, and are heading to Indian Gardens tonight, 11 miles away, so they are on the trail early, too. Wow, the young lady (I never did get their names) is beautiful—it looks like she’s even wearing lipstick in the backcountry.

The sky is overcast and threatening rain, so I pack my rain gear and kitchen to make lunch at the river. I bid Randy farewell and hike down to the river. The hiking is easy in the wash, just what my ankle needs. It only takes an hour to cover the 2.5 miles to the river; once there, I enjoy the energy of the Granite Rapids, explore the inviting beach campsites, climb to a bluff overlooking the river, watch a Say’s Phoebe hawking insects over the river, and generally just decompress. I can feel the stress just melting off of me. That’s why I love days like these in the backcountry.

The din of the rapids is overpowering, so I opt to walk back up the wash to find a lunch spot. It’s spitting a light rain, so I look for an alcove to tuck under. A mile up the wash I find the perfect post, and set up my lounger and kitchen. Hot soup, cheese and jerky wraps, some goldfish crackers and dark chocolate peanut M&Ms—yum. Why does such “ordinary” food taste so extraordinary in the backcountry?

I’ve brought a couple of good books with me, by Don Miguel Ruiz and Richard Bach, and I settle into their pages under the rocks. The slot canyons limit my horizon and the books compliment my inward explorations. I’ve decided to start this week practicing some of the techniques I’m reading about, figuring I’d start easy, since I won’t be around many people this week. It feels right —good and peaceful—to be spending this time on myself.

A family of four—mom and dad, two daughters seemingly of college age - walk down the wash; we exchange pleasantries. I pack up and head back to camp, leisurely taking artsy pictures of the Monument and whatever grabs my attention, like the white heart-shaped rock stuck in cubby-hole in the black, 2 billion year old Vishnu Schist rock layer of the lower canyon. I think that Tom and Jenny would appreciate the heart rock, and allow myself other silly thoughts, like naming my next band The Vishnu Schist.

The family that passed me in the wash has taken the NYC couple’s spot under the rocks, but no one else is in camp. Dark clouds are pressing in, and rumbles of thunder are in the distance. I notice there are some caves behind my camp, and climb up to explore. Wow, they are perfect, and the exploring reminds me of the exploring I did as a kid with my friends back in the woods of western Pennsylvania. Soon the storms explode, thunder rumbling and echoing over and over through the canyon, seemingly amplified a hundred times louder than normal, but I enjoy it all in the protection of the caves. I vow to bring my tea light candles up to the caves to make dinner here, protected from the weather.

But since it’s a lazy day, I brew up some chamomile tea in prep for a late afternoon nap. I’m just about to retire to my tent when I look up the southeast cliff, and, horror of horrors, here comes a big group of people! No, surely they’ll just be passing through, maybe on the way down to the beach—I came here for solitude, remember? I busy myself with camp chores while keeping a watchful eye on the group, and within 15 minutes they are in camp—all 8 of them. We exchange pleasantries, and they scout for a campsite, of course choosing the one right next to me. Ahhhh, no! I retire to my tent.

I try to sleep, but my new neighbors are busy setting up camp, and 8 people make a lot of noise. So I settle into my books again. “Every person, all the events in your life, are here because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.” Wow, the passage changes my perspective about this recent turn of events. What if the book is true, and we really do draw people into our lives for a reason? Are these trespassers on my solitude here for a reason?

When I get out of my tent to make dinner, I notice that the caves I thought I’d be lighting with tea lights and making dinner under are now occupied by the new arrivals. Oh well, there’s another smaller cave just north of theirs, and I bring my kitchen equipment and dinner into the small cave. The thunderstorms have returned, and I’m thankful for the discovery of the caves—I’m nice and dry. Plus, I can do my dishes in the rain dripping off the cave roof. It’s gets darker during the height of the storms than it was last night with the full moon, and there’s even a bit of hail.

I can hear the sounds of laughter and joy coming from my neighbors cave, and their stoves light up the canyon during the dark storm. Is that a bit of jealousy I feel? True, I’m enjoying my solo trek, but I do miss the camaraderie of campfires and sharing dinner and conversation with others. 

Well, at least I’ve got some whiskey, and a few sips ward off the chill of the post-thunderstorm evening. The rain is steady now, and mesmerizes with its insistent patter. But in a page right from desert hikes past, when I stand up quickly in the cave, my head brushes the roof, filling my whiskey cup with sand. Ahhh, is this worse than our sandy dumpling dinner in Zion 3 years ago??? Being a trooper, though, not a crunchy drop is wasted…

The rains stop sometime after sunset, and I retire to my camp, sitting in my lounger basking in my tea light campfire. Hmmm, what if the book is right about drawing people into your life? I decide to venture over to the neighbor’s camp.

The response to my offering of a nip of whiskey is a group chuckle—turns out, they are just breaking out the shots of tequila, complete with lemons and salt! There’s even a few cans of beer floating through the group. The group is on a trip as part of their outdoor club, organized through McMaster University in Toronto, and includes a couple of exchange students from Austria and England. There are four guys and four girls, two of whom are coupled. 

We ease into conversation, despite our generational differences; talk flows freely between politics (discussing our mutual disgust with the Bush administration, but also curious about Canada’s new elected conservative prime minister), the environment, past adventures and future plans, and of course sex, always a topic whenever the sexes mingle over some spirits. Wow, it’s great to be amongst my tribe!

But the most impressive spirit tonight is in the sky. Almost as if we wished it, the sky clears, and we are left with a radiant starry sky. Wow! Someone in the group is pointing out constellations, but then there is a spontaneous silence that lasts a couple of minutes, as we collectively appreciate the universe and the visible Milky Way. Peace.

The shows not over, though. Right on time the moon breaks over the canyon walls, but tonight is a special celestial event—a full lunar eclipse. That’s why the stars are so bright tonight. We are treated to the dark orange silhouette of the fully eclipsed moon, followed by a slight silver crescent of the returning brightness. We watch, mesmerized, as the crescent grows. Wow! Does it get any better than this? Watching a full lunar eclipse from the bottom of the Grand Canyon, while swilling whiskey and tequila with a group of co-eds from my tribe? What a way to end the second night in the canyon!

February 21, 2008—I’m awake at 5:30, refreshed but annoyed at my flat sleeping pad. Obviously I’ve got a slow leak somewhere. But that is just a minor irritant—I’m in the Grand Canyon, not my cubicle! I enjoy the sunrise while sipping hot coffee, but it’s not leisurely today. While I’m packing, the family from the ridge passes through camp, they too on their way to Indian Gardens campsite. I’ve got the same big day ahead of me today, so I’m packed and ready to hit the trail by 8:30. My pack actually feels heavier with the wet tent, but I’m energized and eager for adventure. I bid farewell to my just waking Canadian friends, and I’m off.

It’s a steep 500 foot climb out of the Monument Creek canyon, but I fly up it, watching the camp get smaller as I climb. I’m grateful that the morning was dry; it’s never fun to pack up in the rain. But there are big storm clouds on the horizon, and you can see the rain coming down in sheets a few canyons over. This spurs me on, too—I’d love to find a little alcove along the trail for a rest or lunch spot, and I know my best chances of finding one will be in the next slot canyon. 

Back on the trail, my attention again focused inward, I think about what I’m reading. I’m thinking about how we imagine our own realities; I’ve never realized that I had any control over it before. But the eclipse party with kindred spirits was exactly what I would have written if I were writing a fictional account of my trip. Could there be something to this? Could I be a messiah, too? Could I make a few miracles?

I know my answer that day on the trail was “Yes!” That’s part of why I’m writing this down, because I’m afraid time will dull the memory. But my first imagining was that the clouds would roll away.

In the Zen of a fast paced walk I push my wish to the background. As I enter Salt Creek drainage, I am so sure the rain is eminent that I stop and put the rain cover on my pack and put on my rain hat. I press on into the slot canyon, and actually catch up with the family that left before me this morning. It turns out that the older couple is from Boulder, but the two girls are college exchange students from Germany. We make small talk before I press on.

As I leave the slot canyon, it takes a few seconds to realize that the rain and clouds have dissipated!!! The last of the rain that I was so sure was eminent is vaporizing in front of my eyes, replaced with a gorgeous sunny sky full of white puffy clouds! Wow, how can this be?!?! I snap beautiful pictures of the landscape, marveling at the sights, and wondering, “did I do this???”

Brimming with confidence now, I imagine that the irritating game of passing and getting passed by the German family will end—and it does, we somehow time our picture and rest stops to not overlap. My camera batteries are just about dead, I imagine that they last until I stop for lunch, and they do. I imagine the perfect lunch spot, and - well, here’s the pictures from the most scenic trail lunch I’ve ever eaten.

After lunch I’m tired, so I imagine the boundless energy I had this morning, and it returns. So is this really happening? Dare I really test my new-found “powers?” I put it to the test—I imagine seeing a California Condor. There are only about 300 California Condors left in the world, the majority in a captive breeding program. There are about 30 in the Grand Canyon; I didn’t see one on the last trip, a real disappointment. But maybe now I will…

Hiking along the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon is like following a contour line on a map; there is little elevation gain, but it is maddening how many hidden folds there are in the trail, especially when you can see your destination across the wide vistas. My latest fold is into the Horn Creek drainage. I know I’ve read that condors have nested in this region in the past, but they are very nomadic in winter. Even so, I stop often to peer through my binos at all the caves in the upper Redwall limestone layer—but no condors.

I stop to rest at Horn Creek; there is a pretty little campsite next to the creek. I thought about camping here when I planned the trip, but the water is radioactive, spoiled by one of the purest uranium mining operations in the world at the top of the drainage. I cringe that we’ve left such a lasting mark on a national treasure. 

Before shouldering my pack, I verbally ask to no one, “Where’s my condor?” I clearly see in my mind my bino case falling to the desert floor in my haste to get a view of North America’s largest bird...and sure enough, fifteen minutes later, my bino case is in the dirt as I raise my glasses to spy a majestic California Condor! I banks left, its outer primaries spread wide apart, the bright white patches under its wings. It sails majestically on the canyon thermals, just as they have since the days of the dinosaurs. I watch for five minutes before it disappears over the horizon. 


Wow, I’m awestruck. Not just at the condor, as impressive as it was; but also at the shift in my perspective, in my unlearning. Wow, I feel alive, happy, amazed, miraculous. And fortunate—so many teachers have led me here. I’m grateful, thinking of them a lot on this trip. I send some of my peace and contentment their way…

Back on the trail, I imagine a black-throated sparrow perched upon a yucca stalk, and sure enough, a sparrow-sized bird pops up on a yucca. Again, the bino case is dirty, but this time the bird is not my imagined prize, but an ordinary junco. I laugh, wondering if the universe is keeping me honest. 

I can’t believe I’m at Indian Gardens before 3 o’clock, covering 11 miles in six hours, including a long lunch break. Of course the German family took the campsite I wanted, scouted out the last time Mark and I were here. But that’s okay, there are plenty of other good ones, and I quickly settle into my home for the night.

Camp is set up quickly, and I brew up some chamomile before settling in for a brief nap. Light rain begins to fall, and the clouds are pushing in. I was hoping to take my dinner and whiskey down to Plateau Point for the sunset, but the clouds are getting heavier and lower. Looks like there will be no repeat of the fantastic sunset I enjoyed the last time I was here. 

I’m bummed about the sunset, but also tired, so in a way I don’t mind not hiking another 3 miles tonight. I settle into my comfy rock kitchen and cook up a fantastic meal of cheese tortalini with olive oil and parmesan cheese. Dark chocolate M&M’s are desert, yum. Wow, does it taste good in the afterglow of today’s long hike! A rufous-crowned sparrow joins me for dinner, looking for crumbs. I light a tea light behind me, and settle into my books after dinner, my sore back recovering in my camp chair, whiskey at my side. 

It is peaceful here; camp is about 50% full, not enough to be irritating, but enough to force everyone to be quiet and courteous of their neighbors. My nearest neighbors are silver haired older folks, probably in their late 60’s or 70’s; I’m impressed they’ve hiked in—I hope I’m still able to do this at their age! The first of their group retires for the night in the full daylight of 5 pm, and the others all follow within an hour. Me, I enjoy just sitting, reading my books when I feel like it, watching the camp activity when it’s interesting, or just reflecting on the amazing events of the day. My only visitor tonight is a striped skunk in search of some wayward crumbs.

Soon the only light that is left is from my candle; the wind is picking up—rain is coming, so I retire early, but content…

February 22, 2008—The rain becomes steady but light overnight. Between the irregular patter of raindrops and my deflating mattress, I don’t get a great night’s sleep. I’m still hopeful I’ll get a nice sunrise, and I hope to make breakfast and coffee at the Point, but once out of my tent I realize the sky is even lower today than it was last night. The rain is coming, but right now it’s dry, so I quickly tear down my gear and hang it from the covered shelter; at least it will drip-dry some before packing it up.

I make a quick breakfast in camp, again joined by my sparrow friend, and then decide to leisurely venture to the Point anyway—maybe there will be wildlife, or I’ll get that black-throated sparrow. The deer are grazing the plateau, and western bluebirds add color to a dreary day, but that’s about it. The Point is not the spectacular sunrise of my last trip, but it is still good to just be outside in this place, and I suck up the humid air, taking it all in.

The rain starts again on my walk back from the Point; most of the campers are already packed up and on the trail. I pack up camp while eating lunch; I’m thankful for the shelters, it sucks packing up in a steady rain. Wrapped in Gore-Tex, I’m on the trail by 11 am.

The rain is coming down harder, and the trail is a red muddy mess splashed with wet, green mule shit—yuck! But I set a good pace for the steady uphill march, enjoying the exertion. I pass and re-pass a number of folks, and soon I’m engaged in a sporadic conversation with a girl from Montreal whose hiking up from Phantom Ranch at the same pace I am. She’s also doing a solo trek, down South Kaibab and up Bright Angel—good for her. We swap stories of solo travel while passing slower hikers on the trail as if they’re dial-up and we’re DSL.

At about the 3-Mile rest house, 1/3 of the way up, the rain begins to change to wet heavy snow. The higher we climb, the harder the snow comes down. Reports from hikers heading down indicate a lot of snow at the rim. It’s actually really pretty, the white snow contrasting with the red rocks and dark brown mud. I slip on the Yak Trax, and as the visibility drops to about 50 feet, I start to fatigue from the fast pace. I find myself wondering when we’ll be at the top, a sure sign of tiredness.

Soon we begin to pass tourists in jeans, and I know the top is near. I pass a familiar landmark where we took a Flat Stanley picture for Jake. Smiles, thinking of my family and the great time we had here at the canyon. As much as I enjoyed my solo trek, I can’t wait to get back home.

At the top, it’s near blizzard conditions, with about a foot of snow on the ground. I press a stranger into taking my picture at the trailhead, revealing a lot of snow on my hat and pack. I’m soaked to the bone and cold, but soon the welcoming fire at the Bright Angel lodge warms me and dries out my soaked clothes and pack. 

“Civilization” and deadlines quickly crowd out my canyon experience. I’ve got little time to change and grab something to eat before catching the shuttle. And the shuttle ride is cramped and longer than usual because of the snow. I wish I could be at the canyon rim when the weather does break, I’m sure the sight would be spectacular. So glad I had the time at the rim in December...

But Flagstaff and my train runs through it hotel room arrive soon enough. While packing for the flight home, I finally get to talk to Deb and the boys. I miss home, and I’m anxious to return tomorrow. But tonight I want to toast my adventure.

I think of the sandwiches and Polygamy Porters on a sun-drenched patio in Zion Canyon. My mouth still waters recalling the best tasting pizza and beer ever at a little dive just outside Sequoia National Park after two weeks in the wilderness. I can still taste the Rainier lager, enhanced by the views of The Mountain at the Glacier Lodge in Mt. Rainier NP. And the stops at the Medix after Moshannon, sitting on an open deck in between majestic wooded ridges, an occasional elk grazing in the meadow, a pitcher of Yuengling, and greasy fries; well, they all epitomize satisfaction. True, my Blackbird Porter at the Flagstaff Brewing Company is top notch; the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction is there, too, and the peace and adventure I crave so much was fulfilled. But not sharing that beer with friends while reliving the trip, or regaling family with tales of adventure— well, that’s by far the worst part of traveling solo. 

But I reflect on the trip—the near-flawless planning, the perfect food, doing it all (airfare, transportation, hotels, permits, food, supplies and souvenirs) on an unbelievable budget of $501, getting back to such a spectacular place—wow, it was a great trip! 

And I learned so much on this trip, lessons I know I will continue to explore beyond the canyon. Many of these lessons stemmed from the inward time I enjoyed in the canyon, a gift I did not expect to be so pleasant. Hey, I liked the time I spent with myself! I toast my traveling companions; Bach philosophizes that “Your conscience is the measure of the honesty of your selfishness—listen to it carefully,” Don Miguel Ruiz teaches “We have to be who we are”, and Bill Deasy sings ”We are who we are”, and Cheers!




“Go to the mountaintop, charnel grounds, islets and fairgrounds…
Places that make the mind waver,
And let the body dance, the voice sing,
And the mind project innumerable thoughts.
Fuse them with the view and practice
of spontaneous liberation.
Then all arises as the Path.”

- 14th century scholar and meditation master Longchenpa]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/The+Grand+I++II/147</link><pubDate>Fri, 28 Aug 2009 19:04:39 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Joshua Tree Family Vacation]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/840/galleries/146/medium_IMG_0310.JPG8_28_2009_62407_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Coming soon...]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Joshua+Tree+Family+Vacation/146</link><pubDate>Fri, 28 Aug 2009 18:24:07 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Zion NP, April, 2005]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/840/galleries/145/medium_AngelsLand1_8_28_2009_54937_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Zion the Magnificent

The large bird soared effortlessly between the red cliffs.  It banked left, revealing golden patches on its 7-foot wingspan and giving it away as a Golden Eagle.  Our necks craned upward to follow its path to the very top of a rocky ledge.  There it alighted and peered down, surveying its domain.  

1,200 feet below, three awed observers shouldering large heavy packs watched in silence.  It suddenly hit me that I was in a truly wild place, far from the mundane details of domestic life and job, far from the worries and concerns of our trivial human pursuits.  Here in a perpendicular canyon, amidst a timeless concoction of rock, water and wind, my soul began to open up to the serenity I so badly needed.  Despite the heavy pack, I could feel my own spirit begin to soar.

I badly needed rejuvenation.  Recent events in the political arena seemed to be aimed at me personally.  So many of the things and places I care about seem to be under assault.  Even things I thought were safe and protected are now suddenly vulnerable.  Perhaps I am feeling vulnerable, too.

And then there is the job, eight to ten hours a day stuck behind a computer in a dark cube.  Only the pictures of my wife and boys and the spectacular places illustrated on my calendars make it inhabitable.  

Tom and Mark expressed the same concerns about their jobs.  I don’t know how many times we exchanged emails saying, “Man, I need to get out of here!”  Mark is under double pressure, maintaining a full-time job and a full course load at night.  I remember that pressure well, and don’t envy him.  The everyday pressures of the ordinary wear you down, like the constant, subtle forces of wind and water have eroded these cliffs.  

So we decided we needed to get out, to go somewhere spectacular, to be refreshed.  Zion National Park in southern Utah fit the bill.  

Zion is a magnificent display of nature at work, on her own timetable.  It is a place where seemingly indestructible rock is wore down into patterns of beauty that only endless patience could create.  It is a place that reveals the vastness of the past, and the limitlessness of the future.  It is a place where the insignificance of human activities is on full display.

We planned to do a 6-day thru-hike of the Park, starting in the northwest corner in the Kolob Canyons and traveling southeast back to Zion Canyon.  We figured we’d cover the 38 miles leisurely, leaving time to enjoy the scenery and melt away our worries.  

We also figured we’d be doing the hike in dry weather, too – after all, Zion is in the desert, right?  The three of us have a bad track record when we get together to backpack.  The last two trips out we got caught in the torrential downpours and high winds of hurricanes.  But it won’t rain in the desert, right?

Yet here we were at the Lee Pass trailhead donning rain gear and pack covers.  The excitement of the trip and pure adrenalin caused us to barely notice the thick red mud that sucked us down, and the slippery conditions.  And the scenery, although not picture perfect, presented the Kolob area in a light I’m sure not many folks see.  The fog and low clouds ebbing in and out of the canyons created a surreal experience.

The six-mile downhill hike to the La Verkin drainage passed quickly, and we made camp at site #9 on the north side of La Verkin creek.  La Verkin was swollen with the runoff, creating a mad torrent of frothing chocolate milk.  We scouted the best place to cross, the first obstacle we would face in the morning.  We found a possibility near campsite #14, but were worried that we’d have to anchor a rope across to pass safely.  

Rather than dwell on the crossing, we made a side scramble up to Kolob Arch, the world’s largest arch.  The scramble up the narrow canyon was probably more enjoyable than the arch itself, which is much less impressive than its title suggests, perhaps because the arch is so high up and so close to the cliff face.  But there was a waterfall flowing next to the arch, I’m sure a sight very few see.  We enjoyed the views from the shelter of the giant ponderosa pines on the canyon floor.

The rain didn’t let up that evening, and we made a makeshift shelter between a large rock and a tree along the banks of La Verkin.  Battened down and protected from the rain, we shared a liter of whiskey before dinner.  The whiskey took the edge off the cold rain, and we basked in the glow of a warm buzz and good company.  Unfortunately, Tom basked a little too much, knocking our dumplings off the stove and into the sand!  No matter, the crunch added a little grit and spice to our dinner, that’s all.

As would become our pattern, we retired early, still adjusting to jet lag and the altitude, and anxious to get out of the rain and into our warm tents.  Rest was welcomed and enjoyed.

The morning dawned rain free, and a fantastic full moon illuminated the misty morning fog before being swallowed up in the maw of the valley.  We broke camp early and soon were thigh deep in La Verkin creek, just past campsite #14.  The water level had fallen enough that a rope wasn’t necessary, but we still doffed all our clothes anyway for the crossing.  It was totally exhilarating being nekkid in the cold stream, and it felt so much more natural after being wrapped in our plastic rain gear the whole previous day.  And besides, we had taken to calling each other Mark-Ass, Thom-Ass and Joseef-Ass all week, might as well live up to it, right?  Of course, pictures were taken (mostly, sorry Tom!); we’ll see if they end up on the Internet!

We then left La Verkin creek trail and headed south on the Hop Valley trail.  After a 500-foot uphill climb, we emerged at the bottom of a lush green valley.  Stunning!!!  The wide, flat Hop Valley was brimming with green from the recent rains.  The 700-foot cliffs on each side of the valley were red and white.  The blue sky was dotted with white fluffy clouds.  The whole scene stunned the senses, from the contrasting colors, to the smell of ponderosa pine on a light breeze, to the shrieks of circling hawks and the buzz of songbirds!

We lingered in the valley, enjoying a leisurely lunch in the lush green meadow of horse camp #1, even indulging in a good half an hour on the rocks sans shirts under the warm sun.  Fantastic!  But with miles to go before we slept, we were soon moving again…

A couple hours later we were climbing out of the valley, heading higher up the Kolob Terrace.  The white fluffy clouds had now billowed into thunderheads, and soon the sky opened up, but not with rain.  B-b sized hail crystals pelted us and the wind whipped it sideways, and soon the sagebrush landscape of the high plateau was covered with white hailstones.  The freeness of shorts and t-shirts seemed a distant memory as the hail pelted off my gore-tex hat…

Saturday night before the start of out trek, we had cached food, fuel, and snowshoes (and whiskey!) to pick up at the end of our second day of hiking near the Hop Valley trailhead.  The rain and hail let up as we reached the cache hanging safely in a large pine.  As we divvied up the cache, however, a shocking realization overcame us – we forgot the fuel bottles!!!  Holy shit, we had only enough fuel for maybe one more night!  As the news sunk in, we alternated between “how the hell did we let this happen?” and “what the hell do we do now?”  

We had passed two groups of hikers on our way up to the trailhead, so we decided to head back to the trailhead and see if they might be able to offer us a ride back to town or had extra fuel.  We also called the shuttle service that dropped us off two days ago.  (Yes, unbelievably, we had cell phone service here, about the only place on the trek that we did!)  We even tried a long shot, seeing if a pizza place might deliver up here (fuel, of course, and a pizza while they’re at it, too!)  None of our calling options met with any luck, the shuttle service being reluctant to do it (and probably wanting an arm and a leg anyway, based on their $112 fee to drop us off at Lee Pass!) and us being way out of pizza delivery range.  So we dropped our packs in the trailhead parking lot and sat by the road, thumbs at the ready.

The first car we flagged down obviously was not going to drive us to town, judging by their reluctant body language and ½ rolled down window.  But 10 minutes later, lo and behold, a couple from Michigan let Mark into their back seat on their way back to town!!!

Tom and I spent the next two hours dodging thunderstorms and watching the gear get wet in the parking lot.  Every approaching car noise was met with expectant glances, followed by disappointment when it wasn’t our rented white Buick.  We entertained ourselves with fantasies of pizza and beer in the car and not having to cook, but those thoughts were flushed when we realized Mark probably didn’t have any money on him.

Sure enough, he was solo when he pulled into the lot around 7 pm.  Tom and I had been studying the map and realized we could make up for the lost three hours by driving another 2 miles to the Wildcat Canyon trailhead.  We unloaded our gear and shouldered our packs at Wildcat as the sun was setting.  We traveled only about a ¼ mile before making camp in a nice little pine grove next to a stream.

Camp on night 2 was a relief; we knew we dodged a bullet, and we were thankful for our good fortune.  We all knew our trip could have taken a disastrous turn, but here we were, still pretty much on schedule, still enjoying the scenery, the company and the experience.  It was still much better than a day in the office!  We toasted another good day, all in all.  Another early night, and sleep was contented and earned.

Wow, morning of day 3 dawned cloudless and sunny!  Perhaps our weather luck had finally changed!  We deserved it, didn’t we?  Sunshine and shorts buoyed the extra weight of the packs and snowshoes.   Plus we had a relatively short day, only about 6 miles.

Well, our moods and the weather deteriorated with each mile.  Not more than a mile or so into today’s hike, following some fresh elk prints, we hit snow.  A mile later we donned the snowshoes for the first time.  It took a while to get used to the new equipment, and I did a good face plant before getting the hang of it.  But alas, at least at this point the snow was too intermittent to keep the shoes on.  We spent considerable time and energy putting the shoes on on north facing slopes and taking them off as we rounded the south corner.  

Plus, we were climbing constantly.  I guess we should have figured that 1,000-foot gradient into our assessment of an “easy” day!  And at our lunch stop another hailstorm, followed quickly by a major downpour.  So glad I wore shorts today!  After a wet lunch we marched through the rain, trudging up our last step hill towards Lava Point.  

The snow got deeper and deeper, and hid many pitfalls.  At one point Mark crashed through a snow-covered stream, barely catching himself before being pulled down the steep slope by his heavy pack.  I cautiously made it through, and we waited for Tom, who replicated Marks fall despite our warnings.  Banged, bruised and cold, this day was wearing thin…

Finally we made Lava Point sometime in late afternoon.  The snow was deep – 3-5 feet – so the snowshoes were back on.  We had trouble finding the trail under the deep snow, but stumbled upon a marker while Tom took an emergency dump (damn apricots!)  We were somehow able to discern a slight trail, and were thankful to be trudging downhill.  An hour later we pulled into West Rim campsite #9, exhausted.

#9 was not the greatest campsite, but it did have a flowing spring, and a good dinner and clearing skies soothed our ruffled feathers.  Another early night under a brilliant starlit sky…

But more thunderstorms rolled in over night, and the rumbles added to our concern about hiking over 8 miles today.  We broke camp early again and were cruising over the trail in our snowshoes before 10 am.  Our pace was brisk today, and we quickly covered ground, spurred on by the rumbles of thunder all around us.  It was noisy and irritating hiking in snowshoes over the bare patches, but too time consuming to constantly take them off and on.  But once we sunk into the thick mud of the Potato Hollow springs, they were off.

An intense fire raged through this area in 1998(?), leaving only the charred, hollowed out remains of once proud pines.  The blackened corpses created an eerie landscape, and a woodpecker haven!  We lunched at the dinner table set out by the fallen giants.

Lunch was followed by a steep ascent through the north facing forest.  The elevators on the snowshoes helped tremendously, and soon we pushed through to the West Rim plateau.  Halleluiah, it would be flat from here to camp #3!  

It was easy to make good time on the flat plateau, but the views were stunning!!!  Every couple hundred yards required an obligatory camera stop, and the thunderstorms seemed to always just miss us.  Even so, we pulled into camp #3 just a little past 3 pm.  We had covered over 8 miles in less than 6 hours, despite the heavy packs and snowshoes.

We set up camp and enjoyed the vistas from “our” plateau.  We hadn’t seen anyone in two days and doubted we would again until our descent into the valley two days from now.  But this is part of what we had come for, solitude.  After two strenuous days on the trail, we had earned our views today.  Concerns about of jobs and deadlines and the future were far from consciousness.

The wind was pretty constant at 7,400 feet, so we took shelter behind a large fallen log.  Before dinner, whiskey whetted out appetite for our best trail meal yet.  Tom and I carried dehydrated, pre-packaged Adventure Food meals (very good!), but  Mark, that Sasquwatch motherfucker as Tom calls him, had lugged 2 pounds of cheese tortellini up the hill for two days!  Mark’s a big guy, a grinder, carrying the heaviest loads and always setting the pace; neither Tom nor I could keep up with him the past four days.

On top of the tortellini, Mark also prepared an incredible spicy alfredo sauce and fresh spinach!  We heartily devoured the gourmet meal, savoring every delicious bite!  The log provided perfect shelter from the wind, and relief for our backs as we leaned against it.  The conversation was lightened knowing tomorrow we didn’t have to break camp – we had an entire day to explore the plateau without packs!  Our only task tomorrow would be to find water, as our source tonight was just a trickle of snow melt too cumbersome to pump the amount we’d need for the next two days.

I reflected in my tent that night about our different styles and personalities.  I was definitely the planner and designated worrier.  I’m sure I was wearing on Mark and Tom’s nerves with my constant concerns.  Worry and planning have become a part of me, however, ever since my dad died when I was 15 and I was suddenly thrust into a father figure roll for my 3 younger sisters.  I’ve always felt a responsibility to take care of them, and now that I am a father myself, it’s only compounded.  I guess that’s one of the gifts I take out of hiking with Mark and Tom, seeing that it’s okay to lay down your burden every now and then.  

Mark is the exact opposite - he doesn’t seem to worry about anything!  He didn’t even look at a map (or even carry one!) for this trip!  Tom falls somewhere in between us; he’s prepared for anything, but doesn’t really worry about it.  Maybe that’s why we get along so well on these trips, because our strengths and weaknesses are complimented and covered by each other.  But after a long day, sleep is beckoning, and I put aside any further thoughts.  Another perfect ending to another great day!

We slept in on day five, allowing for some pre-breakfast exploring, a leisurely breakfast, and an after meal nap.  Around noonish, though, we rouse and prepare for our water/day hike.  The sky is completely gray today, and the wind has picked up and is constant now.  The wind did thoroughly dry everything, however, even our boots!

Well, the dryness was short-lived.  Within an hour of our day hike the rain started, and then is changed to wet, heavy snow.  By the time we quit exploring and started pumping water, the snow was driving and we were in near whiteout conditions.  The mesa we had contemplated exploring was no longer even visible.  Poor Sasquwatch had to carry the 11 liters of water back to camp himself, since Tom and I did not bring our packs.

We pulled back into camp, worried about what kind of weather was headed our way.  Our three-season tents wouldn’t hold up against a big snowstorm.  So instead of sitting around shivering and worrying, we decided to make a shelter, just in case.  Using our big log as a back wall, we strung up an a-frame using the tons of dead trees on the plateau (again, from the fire.)  We filled in the gaps with bark shards and downed pine boughs.  We also began collecting dry wood for a fire, despite the restrictions on campfires in Zion.  Better safe than sorry, we reasoned.

Building the shelter took over two hours, and kept us very warm, but I also soaked our gloves and destroyed out already chapped and cracked frozen hands.  So after a quick cold lunch we decided to walk to maintain our body core temperature.  The mood was still light, if not annoyed at the weather.  How could we come to the desert and get precipitation every day???  We decided we should sell our services to drought-stricken locales.  Need rain?  We’ll come hike there, rain is guaranteed.  Or maybe we were being punished for not making an offering the hurricane gods by staying in Hurricane, UT, the first night, as originally planned.  Whatever the reason, here we are, soaked and cold and in a snowstorm in the middle of the desert.

After getting back to camp, we work to light the fire.  We have enough wood for a few hours, and then we’ll retire to the warm tents.  The sun briefly tantalized us through a few blue holes, but the snow and wind soon returned.  The fire provided a little warmth and a lot of smoke in our eyes, and the shelter performed admirably.  Dinner was good but uncomfortable, given the conditions, and finally, soon after dark, we decide to ride out the storm in our tents.  

I was more than a little worried.  It was cold, the wind was howling, and we had no idea what was coming.  Every fifteen minutes I knocked the snow off my tent, and thought a lot about a more comfortable place.  Mostly I thought of home, my wife and my adorable boys.  I felt so far away from them now, alone and vulnerable.  I hoped they were okay and comfortable, and I would have given anything at that moment to be with them!

As it was, the storm passed around midnight.  The snow stopped and the wind died down, and I settled into a brief, relieved sleep, but was up again at 5 am.  Dawn couldn’t come quickly enough.  When it did, the scene was serene, in the brief lapses when I let it in.  The goal today, however, was to get out, not to enjoy the scenery.  We all packed up quickly, wet stuff and all, skipped breakfast, and got the hell out of there before the next storm rolled in.  We were on the trail by 8 am, a record for us!

Today really was all downhill - all 3,000 vertical feet of it!  Despite the wet and cold, my spirits were high – the scenery was spectacular with the snow, and I warmed up quickly on the trail.  As we dropped in altitude, the temperature went up, and then lo and behold, the clouds began to part!  By the time we hit West Rim camp site #1, we knew the rest of the day would be golden – it was about time!

The West Rim trail in Zion National Park is truly one of the most spectacular trails in the country.  Carved right into the side of the cliffs by the CCC in the 1930’s, it still stands as an engineering and scenery spectacular marvel.  Every switchback elicited ohh’s and ahh’s, and picture taking replaced hiking as our my activity.  “Picturebook”, our trip theme song by the Kinks, was apropos here!

Finally we entered Zion Canyon proper.  We were approaching it from the uncommon entrance point at the top – most people enter the canyon from the floor, not the roof.  

Out first view of Zion came from Scout’s Lookout, since it was socked in with rain and clouds Saturday evening and Sunday morning.  What can I say?  Words will not do it justice.  Go there, see it yourself.  Experience the sensory overload of color – reds, browns, and whites of rock, green of vegetation, and blue of sky.  Experience the vertigo of such a lofty perch, usually reserved only for birds.  Marvel in the magnificence and grandeur of such a timeless place.  Soak it in, let it fill your soul; keep it in a special place, to be drawn upon when needed.  For me, the rejuvenation was palpable…

Of course, there is still more adventure.  Angel’s Landing is a precarious spine of a rock outcropping that juts into an oxbow in the canyon, 1,300 above the Virgin River.  To get there, however, you’ve got to scramble up that spine, without succumbing to the 1,300-foot drops that are on each side.  The Park Service has affixed permanent steel chains to the spine, and I cling two handed to the reassuring metal at all times!  Angel’s Landing is a tourist mecca, though, and we have to wait in que through the bottlenecks, and it does claim the lives of a foolhardy person or two annually, so the going is slow.

I don’t mind the crowds.  It actually feels good to be back among humans after 6 days, although I hope my stench doesn’t offend too much!  It’s good to share laughter, and it takes much of the fear out of the task at hand.  I realize how high up we are when I gaze down at the circling Peregrine falcon that nests on the cliffs of the Landing!

About 20 minutes later we reach the pinnacle; we gasp at the views and contemplate where we are.  Of course there are the obligatory pictures, but they are genuine for us – we earned this view, damn it!  We took the one of the longest routes possible to get to this point – and it was worth every step!  I’m overcome with a deep sense of satisfaction.

From Angel’s Landing I looked down at the Virgin River.  Even now, at full spring swell, it looks insignificant.  But look what it created!  Look at the effects of water and wind on rock…amazing!  The key here is time.  How long did it take to erode this canyon, one grain of sand at a time?  How long will it be before the rock I sit on is eroded to a gentle valley?  How does one comprehend such indisputable evidence of the vastness of time?

Time is a concept that I constantly grapple with.  I’m acutely aware that mine is limited, and I try desperately to maximize my use of it.  I fear, though, that this focuses me so inward as to believe that the things I do with my time, and the things that happen in my time, are important.  And perhaps they are.  

But the grains of sand in my life are of such inconsequence in the big picture.  From my lofty perch, I take solace in that.  The universe will get along just fine, even when I make mistakes, and even if I can’t bend it to my will.  Perhaps it is okay to let go every now and then, to go with the flow, to let the cosmos take me where it may.  Looking out over the canyon, I can only think that time is purely god’s domain, her ultimate secret weapon…


The walk down from the Landing is light and triumphant, and the Wiggles are awesome!  I felt a bit like a returning hero as we regaled tourists in the shuttle with tales from our adventure.  We even solved our dilemma of getting the car back from Wildcat trailhead relatively quickly, and I was soon enjoying a grilled chicken sandwich (without any sand in it!) and a Polygamy Porter (Why Have Just One?)  

Ahhh, the perfect ending…]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Zion+NP,+April,+2005/145</link><pubDate>Fri, 28 Aug 2009 17:45:14 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Biking on the Western Ireland Coast]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/234/galleries/144/medium_Cliffs_8_18_2009_21606_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[My husband and I, after a harrowing drive from Irish coast to coast, rented bicycles on the Dingle Penninsula and went for a ride.

After sharing the narrow road with careening trucks, bushes of attack-nettles, and painted sheep; after visiting ancient ruins and modern-day beauties of nature; after having our muscles cool enough at each stop to make getting back to bicycling miserable; after navigating a round-about at the end of a steep hill without helmets to protect us from what was sure to be a catastrophe; we arrived in the town of Dingle for fish and a beer and an exhausting dead sleep.

Really though - bicycling is the way to do it - we would never have seen most of what we saw if we had been driving.  The coast was BEAUTIFUL.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Biking+on+the+Western+Ireland+Coast/144</link><pubDate>Tue, 18 Aug 2009 14:16:06 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Hike To Antelope Falls in Belize]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/391/galleries/143/medium_Antelope Falls 065.JPG8_15_2009_52830_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Hike+To+Antelope+Falls+in+Belize/143</link><pubDate>Sat, 15 Aug 2009 17:28:30 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Afghanistan]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/778/galleries/142/medium_019_8_10_2009_120229_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[on mission]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Afghanistan/142</link><pubDate>Mon, 10 Aug 2009 00:02:29 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Swimming with Whalesharks]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/391/galleries/141/medium_0718860-R2-007-2_8_9_2009_82443_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Very little is known about the whaleshark, the largest fish in the oceans.  They resemble whales, but are are actually fish, not mammals.  A species of shark, but they are plankton feeders unlike their opportunistic, carnivorous predator relatives.  They can grow to 40-50 feet long, but are more commonly in the 25-35 foot range.  In the Caribbean a few miles off the Northern tip of the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico, at a small island called Isla Holbox, these monsters of the sea congregate each year during the summer months to feed on the plankton and krill that inhabit that area.  The water is often murky during this time, but close encounters with these strange creatures is almost guaranteed.  They do swim fast and it is difficult to keep up with them as we swim alongside, but it is an awesome and unforgettable moment to see them in their element.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Swimming+with+Whalesharks/141</link><pubDate>Sun, 09 Aug 2009 08:24:43 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Winsurfer's Guide To Cayo Costa and Cabbage Key]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/567/galleries/140/medium_Cayo Costa  Cabbage Key 006.JPG8_1_2009_65236_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[THE WINDSURFER'S GUIDE TO 
CAYO COSTA AND CABBAGE KEY

I just stood there, starring at my EXPEDITION WINDSUR not believing my eyes.  I had left my dagger board at home, some 70 miles away!  I had just carried the board to the kayak launch ramp at Grande Tours in Placida Florida and realized that I was missing the dagger board.  I never take it out of the board, where could it be?  I had no choice but to load the board back into the truck and head for home.  The EXPEDITION WINDSURFER is a specially designed windsurfer capable of being packed out for multi-day camping trips.  My plan was to spend the next 4 days sailing along the west coast of Florida and camping on an island named Cayo Costa.  
I arrived back at Grande Tours in Placida three hours later.  By now the favorable northeast winds had shifted to a more southeasterly direction.  This would require that I sail upwind most of the way to Cayo Costa.  It was close to 2:00pm and I had a decision to make.  Should I attempt to make it to Cayo Costa or should I hang around Grande Tours, explore the local area and leave early Tuesday morning?  Mary, the manager of Grande Tours suggested that I sail to Hoagen Key which would have been about half way to Cayo Costa.  That would have been the best choice to make, but I decided to stay at Grande Tours for the night and spend the remaining part of the day paddling the back waters Coral Creek and the surrounding area. Stand-up-paddling in these areas is fantastic. 
Grande Tours is a real one-of-a-kind place.  Owned by Capt. Marian E. Schneider it has something for every adventurer who wants to experience the great outdoors and learn about the environment.  Grande Tours offers kayak rentals with various kayak tours, including eco-tours, Calusa Indian history tours and kayak fishing guide service as well as instruction for all levels of kayak skills. They also provide boat tours for those who do not paddle.  Bring your own kayak, or windsurfer like I did, and for just $6.00 you can launch from their wonderful carpeted kayak launch.  The staff at Grande Tours are a great bunch of people as well.  The manager Mary, who lives on the premises somehow keeps everything running smoothly.  Her knowledge of the local waters is indispensable for anyone planning an expedition of the local area.    Grande Tours sits about 9.5 nautical miles North of my destination.
I left Grande Tours at 9:35am on Tuesday.  I paddled out Coral Creek to Dog Island and rigged my sail.  Winds were due south at an easy 10-12 knots.  I knew I was in for a long sail, but the weather was beautiful and I was in one of the most pristine areas on the west coast of Florida.  As I sailed south, crisscrossing the Intracoastal Waterway(ICW) I was amazed at how many boats were on the water for a weekday.  I stopped at Hoagen Key for a light lunch of tuna on a couple of tortillas.  It was 12:45pm and I had been sailing since 10:30.  Almost three hours.  I needed a break.  Hoagen Key is a small island on the west side of the Intracoastal Waterway(ICW) just before it enters Charlotte Harbor.  Along with mangroves and some Seagrape shrubs, it has a few large Australian Pines and some nice camping spots on the north side.  I should have taken Mary's advice and camped here Monday night.  It would have saved me some time getting to Cayo Costa today.  
After lunch I sailed into Charlotte Harbor and my tacks were a lot longer now.    Coming down the ICW which is narrower, I would find a mark or point on an island and aim towards it until the water got too shallow and then tack.  Now, in the open water of Charlotte Harbor my tacks were longer which should make for better time.
  By now the winds had picked up to a steady 15kts and I was in my harness all the time.  The seas had also picked up and I was having waves wash over the bow on a regular basis.  I was concerned about how much water I might be getting in my deckbag.  I keep my GPS, a couple of water bottles, a small survival kit and signal flares as well as a small drybag with snacks all stored in a kayak deckbag on the bow of my board.  I did not like the idea of getting any of those items too wet, so I decided to move the bag to the back of the board.  I sailed in close to Gasparilla Island and moved the bag, attaching it to the rear footstraps and the carrying handle.  This arrangement worked great.  It actually made retrieving items from the bag easier.  
  As I sailed towards my destination I noticed that as I would get in close to Gasparilla Island the winds would shift towards the east and as I sailed out into the open water of Charlotte Harbor the winds seemed to shift to a westerly direction.  I had two concerns at this point.  One was that I did not want to get caught in the lee of Cayo Costa as I sailed across Boca Grande Pass.  This is a narrow pass and a large amount of water moves through it.  If I had gotten in behind the island and lost my wind I would have been at the mercy of the tide ripping through the pass.  My other concern was the possibility of a westerly sea breeze developing as I sailed out into the open water away from Cayo Costa.  This would require me to do more up-wind sailing to reach the island.  Fortunately the wind held steady and I was able to head across the Pass out into Charlotte Harbor and tack directly for the island.   
At 4:25pm I reached the landing on the east side of Cayo Costa.  Almost six continuous hours of up-wind sailing.  As I said before the distance from Grande Tours to Cayo Costa is only 9.5 miles.  My GPS now shows that I sailed 20.2 nautical miles to get here.  Sure it was a long day, but six hours on a windsurfer beats six hours at the office for sure! 
I pulled the EXPW up onto the small sandy beach and walked up the rangers office hoping that I would be able to get a camp site.  The website said they had a few "walk up" sites available.  I was hoping for one of those, I could sure use a nice shower tonight.  What I had not planned for was getting there after closing time.  Fortunately the park ranger opened the office door just as I reached for the door knob.  He invited me in and when I told him I had just spent 6 hours windsurfing to get here, the look on his face was classic.  He and his staff went out of their way to get me and my gear to the far side of the island where the camp sites are located.  
Having a windsurfer capable of stowing all my camping supplies makes it possible to spend a few days camping in remote areas.  If Cayo Costa did not have a camp site available I could have easily set up camp on Punta Blanca Island, just a short sail across Pelican Bay.  It's nice to have that flexibility.  
Cayo Costa is an island only accessible by boat.  It is one of Florida's most pristine state parks.  It's 2,420 acres provides the visitor with endless possibilities to enjoy the natural environment.  From hiking, kayaking, sailing, birding, swimming, fishing, shelling, photography to just relaxing on an unspoiled white sandy beach, Cayo Costa has something for every outdoor adventurer.  The camp ground is located on the west side of the island providing easy access to the Gulf beach.  Each of the 27 tent sites has a fire ring, a post for drying your wet clothes and a picnic table.  There are also twelve rustic cabins available for those who make reservations in advance. The camp ground does not have any electricity, but does provide potable water and cold showers.  The park rangers and their volunteer staff do an excellent job of keeping the restrooms and grounds clean and in great working order.  The rangers office is on the east side of the island, so it is best to sail to the kayak launch just south of the boat docks.  Check in at the camp store to confirm your reservations and the staff will provide you with a free tram ride to the camp ground.  
On Wednesday morning I decided to sail to Cabbage Key.  No visit to this area would be complete without going to Cabbage Key for lunch.  An island located about two miles south of Cayo Costa, it hosts one of Florida's most unique restaurants.  The forecast called for south winds at 15kts with a light chop on the bay and inland water ways.  The forecast held true resulting in more up-wind sailing to reach the restaurant.  No worries though, the sail was fantastic taking me through some of the most pristine waters on the west coast of Florida.  I sailed out through the south end of Pelican Bay, having to maneuver around the various boats at anchor. My course took me through beautiful clear water over grass flats, shallow sand bars and around a couple of small islands before heading out into the ICW and the channel heading into the docks at Cabbage Key. With the winds out of the south and the restaurant on the north side of the island, I knew that my approach was going to be challenging since I was going to have to deal with a huge wind shadow caused by the island.   Along with no winds in the channel and a lot of boat traffic I knew this was going to be fun.   I was able to sail out east of the island, putting me on a beam reach for the docks.  It was a fast sail across the ICW and into the channel and then bam, no wind, like someone turned off the wind machine.  Fortunately I was prepared for this and maintained my balance letting my forward motion carry  me halfway up the channel.  I was very proud of this maneuver since just as I was hitting the wind shadow a large tour boat filled with tourists past me heading out of Cabbage Key channel.  How embarrassing would it have been to fall in front of all those spectators. As it was I waved to the boat as it passed by heading for another tourist destination.  I let my momentum carry me as far as it would and then carefully laid the rig on the tail of the board, pulled out my paddle I keep stored in the bow straps and paddled the rest of the way to the landing.  I love the versatility of the EXPEDITION WINDSURFER!

 I don’t know if it is the atmosphere or that I had to sail to get to Cabbage Key and worked up an appetite, or if it was that I had been eating trail food for two days, but the cheeseburgers on Cabbage Key are the best I have eaten any place.  Well they are world famous for their cheeseburgers and cold beer and famous people from all over come here to enjoy the fare.  Singer, song writer Jimmy Buffet, novelist Randy Wayne White and the current governor of Florida have all been seen at Cabbage Key.
One of the first things that a visitor to Cabbage Key restaurant will notice is all the dollar bills taped to the wall, ceilings, posts, well just about anything that will hold a bill.  legend has it that an old fisherman taped a bill with his name on it to the wall stating that if he never made another dollar fishing, he could still get a cold drink on Cabbage Key.  Well today over $70,000 are on the wall at any given time.  The money is donated to a children's charity.
 After lunch I spent a few minutes climbing the water tower on Cabbage Key to get a bird's eye view of the area.  
As I readied my board for departure from Cabbage Key I drew a small crowd of spectators wondering what kind of boat I had.  After explaining my design and the current adventure I was on they all were amazed and intrigued.  Standing on the shore  watching me sail away, they all waved as if I were going to be crossing the Atlantic.  This just proves that adventure comes in different packages for different folks.  
I spent the rest of the day sailing around Pelican Bay and exploring the islands.
Thursday was going home day.  The forecast called for south winds 15-20kts. with bay and inland waterways choppy.  I was a bit concerned about the sail home.  It would be a dead downwind run and I had not spent very much time on the board in heavy winds.  Having a fully loaded board and crossing Boca Grande Pass in 20kts of wind had me worried.  As it turned out I had nothing to worry about.  The sail back to Placida and Grande Tours was fun.  The winds held at 15-18kts and crossing the pass was wonderful, sliding down a building swell.  It took me a little less than three hours to sail back to Grande Tours and that included a stop for a quick bite of breakfast on the way.  Back in Placida I sailed up into Coral Creek as far as the wind would allow.  When the wind became blocked by the mangroves on shore I dropped my sail, de-rigged, rolled it up and started paddling, never getting off the board.  I arrived back at Grande Tours at around 11am.  
Reflecting on this trip, it is the wonderful people that I met that I will remember the most.  Those at Grande Tours and Cabbage Key who went out of their way to make my trip a success I will always remember.  I found that there are a lot of people who truly care for the world around them and work hard to make a difference every day.  Expedition windsurfing has opened up a whole new approach to enjoying the great outdoors!
Until next time,
Great Adventures!
Trey Flemer]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/The+Winsurfer's+Guide+To+Cayo+Costa+and+Cabbage+Key/140</link><pubDate>Sat, 01 Aug 2009 18:52:36 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Amistad]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/744/galleries/139/medium_P1010272 (2)Warning_7_31_2009_114128_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Paddling trip on Lake Amistad near the junction of the Pecos and Rio Grande Rivers. This area is dotted with caves and rock shelters some of which have artwork left thousands of years ago related to the Shaman religion.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Amistad/139</link><pubDate>Fri, 31 Jul 2009 11:41:28 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Katoomba]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/604/galleries/138/medium_100_0092.JPG7_29_2009_121010_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Sometime in the middle of the trip (difficult to keep track of days), a coach takes us through a small village outside of Sydney: Katoomba.  The cattle are herded off of the bus (a pattern that quickly developed from day one) and sent to the side of a cliff.  Vast, expansive, as far as any eyes can gaze is a range of mountains covered in lush greenery and blanketed with a soft, blue haze.  Australia's infamous     Blue Mountains beseeched my entire attention.  Beauty of a whole new kind.  That's a moment.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Katoomba/138</link><pubDate>Wed, 29 Jul 2009 00:10:10 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Blackhills, South Dakota]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/662/galleries/137/medium_Blackhills1.2005 006_7_25_2009_71739_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[A wonderful opportunity to enjoy history and beautiful scenery with my family on vacation.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Blackhills,+South+Dakota/137</link><pubDate>Sat, 25 Jul 2009 19:17:39 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Gooseberry Falls & Splitrock Lighthouse in Northern Minnesota]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/662/galleries/136/medium_GooseberryFalls.062006 001_7_25_2009_61447_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Enjoying the beauty of the Gooseberry Falls and Splitrock Lighthouse in Northern Minnesota on family vacation.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Gooseberry+Falls++Splitrock+Lighthouse+in+Northern+Minnesota/136</link><pubDate>Sat, 25 Jul 2009 18:14:47 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[White Water Rafting on the Ocoee River]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/662/galleries/135/medium_DSC_0455_Small[1]_7_25_2009_53848_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Our men's group from Osseo white water rafting on the Ocoee river in Tennessee.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/White+Water+Rafting+on+the+Ocoee+River/135</link><pubDate>Sat, 25 Jul 2009 17:38:48 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Whitewater Rafting in Boise]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/718/galleries/133/medium_White Water_7_23_2009_52304_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Whitewater+Rafting+in+Boise/133</link><pubDate>Thu, 23 Jul 2009 17:23:04 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Rest of the Story]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/84/galleries/131/medium_IMG_0620.JPG7_23_2009_94050_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[September means spring in Botswana’s western Okavango Delta, but the weather had turned summer hot. Our flight from Jo’burg’s Oliver Tambo airport had been delayed, putting us into Maun too late for our Mack Air charter to Abu Camp.  Friends directed us to Marina’s – a friendly, comfortable and quiet lodge, 8 km north of downtown that can accommodate up to 18 guests in eight well-equipped rondavels with ceiling fans.  We arrived in time for sundowners at the outdoor bar and put in orders for the day’s specials.  

Marina’s was a good place to organize our kit for the three-night stay at Abu Camp and its world-famous elephant-back safari, created by pioneer safari operator and conservationist, the 57-year-old American, Randall Moore. My mother rode elephants in Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus 60 years earlier, so the safari was especially meaningful. 

Already during the 25-minute flight from Maun’s clean and laidback airport, we’d spotted small herds and solitary bull elephant from the air.  There was dry savannah scrubland on one side and dramatically different wetlands on the other. The distinct game trails of hippo, buffalo and elephant, created a meandering pattern that criss-crossed the landscape of permanent swamps and floodplain grasslands, interrupted by islands dotted with termite mounds and wild date palms that, from the air, looked like African-scaled golf course sand traps.

Trast, our Setswana safari guide, was at the landing strip and greeted us with cold drinks for the 30-minute drive to camp in an ingenuously outfitted canopy-covered Land Rover complete with sturdy folding steps. 

The army’s worth of pushed-over mopane trees and fresh elephant dung gave us our first impression of the 500,000-acre wildlife and wild elephant concession. The droppings from the eight elephants that make up Abu’s herd alone are so abundant that they are mixed into the Kalahari sand of the driving track to improve traction for the vehicles. We were in elephant country!

Just before reaching the camp, we crossed a 30-metre-long bridge made of mopane logs, which were recycled building poles that would be recycled again as firewood for the campfire.  A malachite kingfisher let us approach within spitting distance, and a hippo noted our passing with a full-bodied grunt before disappearing.

Our camp manager, Jean Denis, welcomed the three ‘Baby Boomer’ couples from Zurich, the Netherlands, France and the USA, as well as a father and son, Simon and Julian, from the U.K. Mostly retired – and enjoying it – it was the Swiss couple’s first African safari and Simon’s thirtieth.

Although we’d worked and lived in Central and East Africa for nearly 25 years, nothing prepared us for the teak floors and copper fixtures (including double sinks and a movie-set bathtub big enough for two) of our spacious luxurious ‘Afro-Bedouin’ tent.  The high sleigh-bed was stacked with down pillows, and a hammock swung on the deck in the breeze coming in from the lagoon.  

After a perfect lunch of flaky-crusted leek pie and cold cuts set out on the deck under parasols, and a siesta, out little group crossed to ‘elephant island’ in modern, cushioned mokoros to meet our real companions on this safari – the diverse and international herd of six displaced or orphaned elephants, and two youngsters, including Sirheni, a Kruger Park cull survivor, who’d twice given birth in Botswana when she was covered by wild bulls allowed to mingle with the gently-tethered herd.  

Sirheni’s, (and the Abu herd’s), first baby was born two months premature and died after 13 days.  Since then, she’d delivered Pula (meaning ‘rain’ in Setswana), now a robust seven-year-old bull, and Baby Abu, born in May 2006, and named after the ‘gentle tusker’ Abu that Randall Moore had brought from America, and that was featured in Clint Eastwood’s White Hunter, Black Heart, as well as Lost in Africa (1992), Circles in the Forest, and numerous documentaries and commercials for IBM, Côte d’Or chocolates, and many more.  

Baby Abu is the ultimate heart-winning charmer.  He accompanied all six of our outings, trotting alongside either his mother or ‘Aunt Cathy’, the herd’s matriarch born in Uganda in 1960, captured in Murchison Falls National Park, and raised in a safari park near Toronto, Canada until Moore ‘found’ her and brought her back to Africa to star in Circles in the Forest, set in South Africa’s Knsyna Forest. Cathy – a favourite among the mahouts and appreciated by tourists for her steady ‘limousine’ ride, came to the Okavango in 1990 as a founding member of one of Africa’s first elephant-back safaris.

Standard procedures were in place to maximize safety at every step. We were first directed to sit together on the bench in front of the semi-circle of elephants whose names, stories, and mahouts were presented to us.  The physically imposing headman, Collet, demonstrated how to mount and dismount the left side of the crouching animals, and how to sit, straddle and balance our positions in the comfortable, padded, and carefully adjusted saddles – one babysitted couple at a time.   

Rudy and I were escorted to Mthondo Mbomvu, a very tall 32-year-old Zimbabwe bull with a massive and stately head who’d been a troublemaker at Pilanesberg National Park in South Africa until he joined the Abu herd in 1993 where his reliably good nature blossomed.

It was wonderful to feel him rise up underneath us with a gentle sway and swinging trunk. Then, in the cooling late-afternoon sun we set off, leading the group of pachyderms, the mahout’s knees tucked tight behind the mammoth’s ears as he encouraged Mthondo forward in firm but gentle English.  Soon our caravan formed a spread-out diagonal line, moving at a stately pace across a stretch of water a kilometre wide to reach hard ground for our first ‘gamedrive.’

The magic was immediate.  Without speeches and lectures, we simply began to experience elephant ways. The elephants were always allowed to stop for few minutes every time the spirit moved them to feed on the huge leaves of wild date palms that grew in thick clumps along the islands’ edges, or on the branches of dried-up acacias covered in three-inch-long thorns. We experienced their huge hunger for the most unlikely vegetation, which passes through their inefficient digestive systems in less than eight hours to come out the other end 60% ‘unprocessed’.  Sitting on its back you feel the rumbles and gurgles along the digestive tract beneath you; and yes, you smell the blasting farts.  

Baby Abu swam, suckled, picked pink water lilies, threw up dust or rolled in it, plucked small branches from fallen mopane trees, pushed along clumps of dirt with his tiny trunk, and danced between the legs of his tolerant family.  One day, while I was riding Sirheni, Baby Abu disappeared from her sight for more than 20 minutes, and there was a chorus of loud trumpeting until mother, aunt and baby locked foreheads for several minutes to re-establish contact with chest-shaking bellowings before consenting to moving on. 

Although game is not national-park-thick here, and we were able to approach hippo, giraffe, zebra, kudu and roan within unheard of distances, the mahouts do not insist on pushing their charges to actually mingle within herds, which could produce some unpredictable results. Still, we came in very close contact with hippo, and a small herd of young buffalo bulls, and watched each other for many minutes despite the clicks of busy cameras. 

We proceeded past small groups of impala and families of warthogs to their utter indifference, although the red lechwe I’d come so far to photograph remained out of camera range; I was never able to satisfactorily capture on film that unique-to-Botswana antelope with lyre-shaped horns and bold black lines running down the front of its forelegs.

Walking on the ground alongside the elephants is its own experience, and the giant young Julian accompanied the two safari guides, Trast and Boyce, armed with a .375 Holland & Holland and .458 Winchester, not because of danger from our elephants, but to keep herds of wild elephants from creating havoc; they would fire in the air should uninvited company try to approach.   

If I had a favourite ride, it was on Cathy with the Sri Lankan mahout, Sumi, who has lived with the Abu herd for 16 years while his family remains far away at home.  Sitting behind his shapely shoulders and narrow waist, with Cathy’s ears fanning the air, made me think of butterflies and bats.  That night, during Larium-induced dreams, I felt us take off, and wondered if Walt Disney had ever ridden a circus elephant.

If you show any interest along the way, the mahouts point out and name the rich birdlife:  trees of perched reed cormorants, the buffy-coloured squacco herons whose wings splash bright white in flight, the circling open-billed storks waiting to descend on the mudflats for an orgy of snails, and the appropriately named hamerkop whose messy, dome-shaped nest sat in the fork of the giant tree close to the picnic the camp staff had laid out, along with blankets, pillows and books to sleep off the Pimm’s. 

Before our elephant ‘drive’ back to camp, despite the heat of the day Trast took us to try our hands at catching bream on rods with spinners.  I reeled in reeds, but Simon pulled in a 1.2 kg bream – our only catch of the day.  

On the breezy boat ride back to our waiting pachyderms, we disturbed pretty pairs of pygmy geese and colourful jacana whose pale blue legs dangle lazily in flight.  Back in the saddle, handsome Blacksmith plovers, fish eagles, and sturdy ground hornbills punctuated the familiar dove songs in the background. 

Each outing ended with equally strict precautions for dismounting.  Mthondo followed the verbal instructions to step backwards into position and graciously lifted his back foot for tethering.  Then he would go down, deflating like a giant balloon until I could slide down his left side with the helpful hands of the guards.  

The finale of our last dinner at Abu Camp will remain a surprise, but it gave me the opportunity to speak with Ph.D. Kate Evans.  “Is it ethical,” I asked, “to import and  release elephants into the wild when many wildlife biologists believe that Botswana’s estimated 110,000 to 130,000 elephants are too many, by the tens of thousands, for the carrying capacity of a country like Botswana, with its fragile ecosystems and water supply.  (Three man-made waterholes are responsible for sustaining the elephants of Savuti in the Chobe National Park, whose channel ceased to flow in 1962.)

In addition to Botswana’s own elephant (over)population, like war refugees, elephants from Angola, Zambia, the Caprivi Strip and Zimbabwe have crossed into Botswana, probably never to migrate back towards the bushmeat hunters and poachers’ waiting guns.  

Kate would answer that culling Botswana’s herds would never be acceptable, and that letting nature take its course is always preferable. I myself am deeply conflicted.  My mahout allowed Cathy to do her job and demolish an already damaged large mopane tree, and rip off its large branches for an afternoon snack.  The intensity and physical force of this task demonstrated, like no TV documentary ever could, the potential of huge herbivores to commit ecological suicide through habitat destruction, the effects of which would trickle down to the Kalahari sand. Already we saw ancient baobabs nudged towards death, and fan palms (one of the few trees that thrive on saline soils) knocked senseless by elephants.

But now, at Abu Camp, enamoured of each elephant’s personality and bewitched by their sociable behaviour, I cannot wish for a world with one less elephant.  The solution to Botswana’s overpopulation of elephants ultimately lies in political solutions in the unstable lands beyond the country’s borders.

A member of the IUCN Antelope Specialist Group, Brooke Chilvers lives and works in France, New York and in Africa.  She is the sporting art columnist for  ‘Gray’s Sporting Journal’, and editor of  ‘African Sporting Gazette.’

IN A BOX: 

Contact Information
Marina’s, Shorobe Road, Maun:  marinas@dynabyte.bw; tel: 6801 231; fax: 6861 017.

Mack Air, Mathiba 1 Rd, Maun: mackair@info.bw; tel: 6860

Abu Camp (www.abucamp.com) is booked through Wilderness Safaris: enquiry@wilderness.co.za]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/The+Rest+of+the+Story/131</link><pubDate>Thu, 23 Jul 2009 09:40:50 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Rest of the Story]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/84/galleries/130/medium_img046_7_23_2009_92212_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA["No, no. This ... was your idea," I snapped, lying through my teeth, pointing a Storm Front Mitten System at her. "I live in Africa!" The very word filled me with fierce longing for the blood-warming heat of our safari camp in the Central African Republic.

Still dressed for San Francisco, Doug Lynn - our token mature male - joined the fray but refused to be held responsible: "I'm only here because your husband didn't want you two Dianas running around the Arctic Circle without someone to step in if you got into trouble!”

He was defecting to Janis's side! While this was reassuringly true, we both also knew that Doug could never have resisted the opportunity to hunt muskox and chaperone two Women Who Run with the Wolves.

In Yellowknife, we had postponed cold reality by visiting art galleries and the outstanding Heritage Museum, shopping for Canadian products and treating ourselves to an extravagant last meal prepared by one of the 1,000 Vietnamese who live in this town of 7,000.  But cold reality set in at the Coppermine Airport when a native woman in a colorful, fur-trimmed Mother Hubbard climbed onto a snowmobile with her newborn baby and drove away.

Our outfitters, Fred and Martin Webb, were waiting for us and calmly answered our nervous stream of questions as we made chaos out of their office, spreading out and reorganizing our gear. The arrival of our guides, John Himiak, Roy Inuktalik and John-Franklin Kaodloak, meant there was no turning back. With typical female forethought, we wolfed down the muffins liberated from the airplane and made a last dash to the cozy john.

Suddenly our gear, guns, tents, tarps, stoves, food, fuel and bodies were packed into the three homemade wooden sleds called komitaks. The snowmobiles that would pull us along at some 20 miles per hour lurched into action and we were heading out of town, southeast along the Asiak River basin. We flew past the white church, the satellite dishes, the huskies staked down and sleeping in the snow. Before my goggles fogged over, a brightly painted fishing boat that looked stranded in the frozen landscape made me laugh out loud. And where there's laughter, there's hope,

We learn as school children that the Inuit have 100 words for snow. They must have as many for the bumps on the trail: soft roll, side-to-side swing, chop-chop, soar-crash, roller coaster, Zhivago swush, thud-ouch, mackerel bones and ugh, knock-your-breath-out. Doug added "bite-your-tongue-off” and Janis, "kidney-whoppers."  By the third pit stop, I could no longer ignore Mother Nature's call - who seems to call women more frequently than men.  Luckily, Janis was already a practiced expert and took me through the steps, even helping me locate all the zippers and buckles of Northern Outfitter's gear that is suitably adapted for women's special evolutionary refinements.

After four hours on the trail, camp went up in the shadow of hills intended to break the wind. 'There is no segregation by sex on the ice, and each of us shared quarters with his/her guide. This is also a safety precaution to keep us city slickers from handling the potentially dangerous Primus stoves and heaters. Correctly interpreting Roy's round belly as a sign of good fortune, Doug winked at us and disappeared into the swirling odors of pork chops already frying away.  “Fry and fart ... boil and burp." Fascinated, I repeated Doug's maxim - one I had managed to miss despite 10 years of safari life.

John-Franklin had dug a trench that allowed us to stand up in the tent and simultaneously collect the heavier cold air; the stove was pumped to blasting, muskox and caribou skins were spread out while tea and chocolate cookies miraculously took away the aches, hunger and cold. Later, sitting cross-legged in polar fleece "jimmies” in the expedition sleeping bag supplied by Webb - doing small chores, caring for the cameras, strategically organizing each parka pocket – I was filled with real contentment. The luxury of eating steaming hot stew and bannock in bed literally brought tears to my eyes, and I wanted nobody's life but my own.

The wind pushed on the walls of the tent and made the tarp snappily snap. Icy fog and blowing snow obscured the sun. Webb said the March weather had been bad; hunters were averaging one day in the tent for every one out hunting. We weren't going anywhere. Instead, Janis and I paid social calls to each other's tents, poured tea and swapped cookies. While the solitary old men herded around Doug, we masochistically read about Caribbean hideaways in Conde Nast and took a "French bath" by rubbing scented perfume strips from Vanity Fair on our necks and clothes. An advertisement that read, "Having a bad hair day?" reminded me to avoid mirrors for the duration of the trip.

At midday the weather cleared suddenly - a bright sunny, minus 40 degrees. Down came the camp and we were back "on the road again."  Within an hour, "musk rocks" far in the distance became bona fide muskox.

"Thelma? Louise? Ladies first," said Doug with genuine graciousness. I passed the buck to the more experienced Janis. While she prepared her material (a Remington Model 700 in.338 Winchester Magnum using 250-grain Federal Premium ammunition), John-FrankIin invited me to board his snowmobile to see if there was a suitable trophy bull in the herd. Leaning into the swerves and taking the bumps was fantastic fun – and as close to "Easy Rider" as I was ever likely to get!

At binocular distance, silhouetted against the snow, stood some 40 huge, dark, fur-skirted, rectangular animals.  Although the average male weighs "only" 750 pounds (and females, about 180 pounds less), with a shoulder height about equal to a man's chest, their shaggy, two-foot-long coats nearly touch the ground (hence their Inuit name oomingmaq or “animal with skin like a beard") and make them appear more massive. It was impossible for me to distinguish between the Cape buffalo-like horns of males and the horns of females whose bosses are smaller, more slender, sharply tapered, and divided down the middle by a tuft of lighter hair; and, also between younger and older animals. Bosses become darker with age, although staining while grazing in summer on peat moss may also be partially responsible.

After fighting the fog on my eyeglasses and binoculars, an aperture ring on my Nikon that refused to budge (despite expensive winterizing), thus eliminating all hope of "bracketing" my photos, and fingers frigid from exposure during all my fussing with equipment, we zoomed back with news that a shootable bull probably was vacationing in Miami.

My right hand stayed numb; it ached in the warm mitten. I became frightened and started to pray. Finally it returned to normal, but thereafter seemed more vulnerable to the cold. I became more vigilant about unnecessarily exposing fingers, chin and nose.  Fred Gonzales of Northern Outfitters had outfitted us at his SCI convention booth, explaining that chemical heating packs shouldn't be necessary with his equipment. But my Africanized blood and particularly poor circulation - so typical of female Homo sapiens who select mates according to their ability to generate heat in winter - appreciated the heat packs tucked into the toes of the boots and tips of the mitts.  

Meanwhile, Doug and Roy had spotted another muskox herd, and tracks of a third. Riding up to a vantage point, we recognized the two groups dotting an eternity of frozen arctic tundra. Webb was right: This had to be the most hostile terrain this side of Venus!

Muskox have endured in these regions since migrating across the Bering land bridge (now the Bering Straits) from Siberia some 90,000 to 125,000 years ago. Their range, blasted by blizzards and freezing winds, is covered in snow eight months of the year, and blanketed in darkness during four of those months. Defending themselves against wolves and barren-ground grizzly bears, the Arctic island populations of muskox survived not only the Ice Ages but also the more deadly 6O-year onslaught of commercial hide-hunting before World War I. We were in awe of these animals we had come to hunt.

Janis had hunted around the world for 15 years with her husband, Frederick, bagging moose in British Columbia, Cape buffalo in Tanzania, and tahr in New Zealand. This was her first animal without him, her first hunt since he had died unexpectedly in October 1994. She was clearly moved. It had to be a clean kill.  Responding to our presence, her bull remained insistently shielded by other animals in a demonstration of their typical predator-proof behavior. Her guide, John, was unswervingly calm and patient, never pushing her to take a risky shot.

Distance wasn't a problem, but the wind, blowing in hard from her right, was, especially when the animals stood as if glued at their flanks, side-by-side. Finally, the big bull took a few crucial steps away from the others and even turned broadside, outlined against the cold sky. It went down in what turned out to be a single perfect heart shot.

"This trophy is for Frederick. He was next to me every minute," she said, her voice shivering with raw emotion and bitter cold of the protracted drama. That evening, we dug through everyone's food boxes and conjured up a muskox steak feast.

Having learned how to organize my little universe for convenience and maximum warmth, at ease in the clothing, I now felt comfortable and confident in this extra-planetary environment. I liked taking the hatchet to collect chunks of crystal ice - a commodity so precious in Africa that here we melted for water! Slowly the spirit of this territory unfolded through John's stories about his family - of his son shooting his first muskox when he was only seven, of his father's motto to "keep the circle strong." Snug as a snail in the warm tent, half-dozing, I listened in to the radio waves linking the people north of the Arctic Circle: "Everything is fine here except for bad blowing snow."  “I have some recent coordinates for the bear.  Do you know the number on the collar?”  “How’s my little boy doing?  I miss you too much.  It’s been 12 days.  Kiss his precious heart.”  “I have no more sugar.”  “I’m losing you, Bobby.  I’m not picking you up.  Standing by…”

We discussed "Nunavut,” which means “0ur Land" - the name of the new Canadian province proclaimed for 1999 that returns two-thirds of the Northwest Territories to its native peoples. This violence-free transition seemed enviable when I thought of civil war-tom Africa.

With two more trophy muskox to go, soon we were zipping through a landscape of snow plains, snow kopkes, snow dunes, snow deserts, snowdrifts, and snow-capped hills.  Sometimes I felt like the baby Moses tucked into a wooden cradle and set adrift on the ice; other times, only sleigh bells were missing to complete the Doctor Zhivago setting. In fact, it was the 19th-century fashion for muskox-fur sled and carriage blankets that contributed to over-hunting of muskox until their timely and complete protection under the Canadian government arrived in 1917.

There is no fixed composition to muskox herds and they vary with season, availability of food, and the number of breeding bulls in the neighborhood.  Although the average herd size is 15, we encountered several larger herds of females and young animals. Then we located tracks of a big herd with lots of adult males. Our guides split Doug and me into separate directions.  Knowing he wouldn't shoot until I was successful, this was no time to disappoint him. John-Franklin picked out a bull that seemed taller and “humpier" than the others, and kept checking that I recognized it each time the herd shifted. The sound of Janis's snowmobile climbing a lookout point in the distance sent the animals fleeing. They came to a dead halt stiII within striking distance, but a wolf attack couldn't separate them. And if they took off, I had insufficient experience to take a galloping target.

The spirits that watch over Women Who Run With the Wolves was with us again. Chet and Mark Brown of Brown Precision had honored our adventure by lending me a comfortable, custom High Country .7mm Remington Magnum, graced with Federal shells and Trophy Bonded bullets. My shot went off effortlessly and I was flooded with relief and satisfaction, tinged with the sadness of bloodstained snow. The rest of our expedition materialized from over the hills, led by Doug's smile as powerful as Thor's, signaling the addition of another chapter to our 10-year friendship.  His bull had absorbed the .375 shoulder shot with indifference. For a moment, he thought the impossible: he had missed. But no, it just took a second shot to stop the bull dead in its tracks.

Success also meant the end of this extraordinary voyage on the ice.  While the men spent the long afternoon skinning our trophies bare-handed, I took over the kitchen, preparing sardine canapés, cups of steaming soup with sliced Vienna sausages, topping the menu with Muskox Chili à Ia C.A.R., being careful not to add the saIt of tears.

That night, I watched the electrically charged sun gasses (called plasma or solar wind) that penetrate the Earth's magnetic field and that we know as the Northern Lights - aurora borealis. The swirling shamans of the Inuit people, so beautifully translated into the softness of their soapstone sculpture, were revealed to me that night in the fluid sky. I pondered the mystery of the circumstances, the twists of fate or prewritten destiny that had brought me unexpectedly to this place with these people. Never in a million years could I unravel it, so I sat down on the snow and enjoyed the blessings of the woman - and the huntress - I had become.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/The+Rest+of+the+Story/130</link><pubDate>Thu, 23 Jul 2009 09:22:12 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Myakka River]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/391/galleries/129/medium_040.JPG7_18_2009_102803_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[A leisurely paddle through the Central Florida's "River Of Grass", parts of which are reminiscient of the Everglades.  This area is flourishing with wildlife, with close alligator encounters around every narrow, winding bend.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Myakka+River/129</link><pubDate>Sat, 18 Jul 2009 10:28:03 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Kayak The Moho]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/391/galleries/128/medium_Moho River and Santa Anna Village 025.JPG7_17_2009_84712_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[See trip report]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Kayak+The+Moho/128</link><pubDate>Fri, 17 Jul 2009 08:47:12 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Supai Village: Grand Canyon]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/684/galleries/127/medium_PICT0251.JPG7_16_2009_85617_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Our hike started on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon around 5 AM. It was 80 degrees. By the time we reached the Supai Village the temp was three digits. We stayed in the village and made day trips to beautiful falls and crystal clear streams. The scenery was fantastic.

Supai Village has been home to the Havasupai Indians for many centuries. As time evolved the village has grown with many homes sprouting and taking root in areas where there used to be only farmlands. The village boasts a small café, lodge, post office, school, church, clinic, police station, and a general store.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Supai+Village+Grand+Canyon/127</link><pubDate>Thu, 16 Jul 2009 20:56:17 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Best Pics from Amazon Trip]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/147/galleries/126/medium_Amazon1_7_16_2009_105127_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[These are the best pics for this Amazon trip.  There was a LOT of green out there!]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Best+Pics+from+Amazon+Trip/126</link><pubDate>Thu, 16 Jul 2009 10:51:27 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Costa Rica]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/684/galleries/124/medium_IMGP0480.JPG7_15_2009_112710_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[What a trip! Steaming rainforests, misty cloud forests, raging rivers, dramatically active volcanoes and desolate tropical beaches along both the Caribbean and the Pacific coasts. Costa Rica has over 20 different ecosystems and astonishing biodiversity.

Pura vida is more than a ubiquitous greeting, it’s also a reminder to strive for a “pure life” – simple, vibrant, rich – that is the essence of this stunning country.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Costa+Rica/124</link><pubDate>Wed, 15 Jul 2009 11:27:10 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Jacksonville Beach, Florida]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/9/galleries/123/medium_view from the condo_7_14_2009_60958_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[The view from the condo in Jacksonville Beach]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Jacksonville+Beach,+Florida/123</link><pubDate>Tue, 14 Jul 2009 18:09:58 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Ben Rowland Mobile Photo Album]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/9/galleries/121/medium_9_07032009276.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Mobile Photo Album]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Ben+Rowland+Mobile+Photo+Album/121</link><pubDate>Sun, 12 Jul 2009 19:20:11 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[wedge mountain alpine climb]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/363/galleries/120/medium_wedge mt summit 120.JPG7_12_2009_31037_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[knife edge route]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/wedge+mountain+alpine+climb/120</link><pubDate>Sun, 12 Jul 2009 15:10:37 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[wedge mountain alpine climb]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/363/galleries/119/medium_wedge mt summit 048.JPG7_12_2009_30313_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[knife edge route]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/wedge+mountain+alpine+climb/119</link><pubDate>Sun, 12 Jul 2009 15:03:13 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[wedge mountain alpine climb]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/363/galleries/118/medium_Wedge Mountain 003-red_7_12_2009_23050_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[north arete route]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/wedge+mountain+alpine+climb/118</link><pubDate>Sun, 12 Jul 2009 14:30:50 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Mustache Revolution a.k.a. The 2009 Tucson Mineral and Gem Show]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/112/galleries/116/medium_IMG_1629.JPG7_6_2009_93226_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/The+Mustache+Revolution+aka+The+2009+Tucson+Mineral+and+Gem+Show/116</link><pubDate>Mon, 06 Jul 2009 21:32:26 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Woking's War of the Worlds]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/54/galleries/115/medium_Woking StreetA_7_5_2009_72111_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Photos of the statues inspired by H.G. Wells' War of the Worlds, which was set in Woking, England]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Woking's+War+of+the+Worlds/115</link><pubDate>Sun, 05 Jul 2009 19:15:13 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Mt. Kilimanjaro summit attempt 2008]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/481/galleries/114/medium_243 - Copy.JPG7_3_2009_93529_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[These are pictures from my attempt to summit Tanzania's Mt. Kilimanjaro via the Rongai route in September of 2008.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Mt+Kilimanjaro+summit+attempt+2008/114</link><pubDate>Fri, 03 Jul 2009 21:35:29 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Irish West Coast]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/407/galleries/113/medium_Cliffs of Moher_6_18_2009_90325_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Car Rides, Folk Village, Bunratty Castle and The Cliffs of Moher.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Irish+West+Coast/113</link><pubDate>Thu, 18 Jun 2009 09:03:25 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Barton Creek Cave in Belize]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/391/galleries/112/medium_Barton Creek  Cahal Pech 096.JPG6_16_2009_84705_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[The photo attached is of a human skull found on a ledge within the cave.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Barton+Creek+Cave+in+Belize/112</link><pubDate>Tue, 16 Jun 2009 20:38:59 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[ChicagoTrip]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/7/galleries/111/medium_DSC_6237.JPG6_6_2009_81925_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Downtown of chicago is awesome...]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/ChicagoTrip/111</link><pubDate>Sat, 06 Jun 2009 20:19:25 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Glider Trip in Colorado]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/234/galleries/110/medium_IMG_3408.JPG5_31_2009_60203_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[These pictures are from a glider trip my husband sent me on for my birthday a couple of years ago.  ]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Glider+Trip+in+Colorado/110</link><pubDate>Sun, 31 May 2009 18:09:52 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Sunrise at the Grand Canyon]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/12/galleries/13/medium_6_2_13_2009_63834_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Breaking camp at 2 in the morning to make to the Grand Canyon in time for the sunrise.  AMAZING!]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Sunrise+at+the+Grand+Canyon/13</link><pubDate>Thu, 28 May 2009 07:22:04 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Bungee Jump]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/324/galleries/108/medium_07-28-WB2333.JPG5_26_2009_32429_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Apparently the highest commercial bungee jump in North America]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Bungee+Jump/108</link><pubDate>Tue, 26 May 2009 03:24:29 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Grandfather Mountain]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/316/galleries/106/medium_IMG_2079_5_24_2009_101214_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Our recent trip to the mountains of NC.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Grandfather+Mountain/106</link><pubDate>Sun, 24 May 2009 10:07:00 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Red light District Manila, Philippines]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/309/galleries/105/medium_n615341866_517901_7312_5_21_2009_111755_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[So me and my brother and a couple friends decided to go check out what the strips clubs would be like. Ended up instead of strippers we got midget boxing. Who knew this is what people were into these days?]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Red+light+District+Manila,+Philippines/105</link><pubDate>Thu, 21 May 2009 23:18:03 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[One of the many beaches in Indonesia.]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/309/galleries/104/medium_n615341866_142760_2512_5_21_2009_111230_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Me and two friends decided to take a road trip during our christmas break and this is where we ended up.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/One+of+the+many+beaches+in+Indonesia/104</link><pubDate>Thu, 21 May 2009 23:14:10 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Back Country Adventure Tours trips]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/302/galleries/103/medium_DSCF5100.JPG5_21_2009_91840_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[May trips into Utahs back country]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Back+Country+Adventure+Tours+trips/103</link><pubDate>Thu, 21 May 2009 09:15:45 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Amazonas, Brasil]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/297/galleries/102/medium_200810228.JPG5_20_2009_100942_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Amazonas,+Brasil/102</link><pubDate>Wed, 20 May 2009 22:12:10 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Misc. Outings]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/293/galleries/101/medium_DSC00387.JPG5_20_2009_75020_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Some photos from Yosemite, English Lake District, Switzerland and other hikes.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Misc+Outings/101</link><pubDate>Wed, 20 May 2009 19:56:58 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[pixs2]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/285/galleries/100/medium_Snowtrek_5_19_2009_93645_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Trekking into the Tenn. Mountians=Clingsman Dome  Elv. 6800 ft.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/pixs2/100</link><pubDate>Tue, 19 May 2009 21:40:24 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Pixs]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/285/galleries/99/medium_skymts_5_19_2009_90803_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Pixs of our family out exploring the world...GET OUTDOORS!!!!!]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Pixs/99</link><pubDate>Tue, 19 May 2009 21:11:48 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[nice mule deer buck]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/98/medium_12-31-2003 015637PM.BMP5_17_2009_110542_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[got this buck in wyoming in 1995.shooting a contender in 35 rem which deena later took for her own.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/nice+mule+deer+buck/98</link><pubDate>Sun, 17 May 2009 11:06:15 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[La Tomatina]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/270/galleries/97/medium_DSCF0111 copy_5_16_2009_120437_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/La+Tomatina/97</link><pubDate>Fri, 15 May 2009 23:51:54 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[one more analope]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/96/medium_12-31-2003 125944PM.BMP5_14_2009_102906_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[i got mine too on the same ranch with my contender in 7-30 waters.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/one+more+analope/96</link><pubDate>Thu, 14 May 2009 22:29:16 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[analope buck]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/95/medium_12-20-2003 014134PM.BMP5_14_2009_102543_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[deena got this buck at 185 yards on the duram buffalo ranch in wyoming with her contender in 7-30 waters.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/analope+buck/95</link><pubDate>Thu, 14 May 2009 22:26:09 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[last day deer for deena]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/94/medium_12-16-2003 043348PM.BMP5_14_2009_31701_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[a last run through the area produced this buck for deena.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/last+day+deer+for+deena/94</link><pubDate>Thu, 14 May 2009 15:17:22 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Italy]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/264/galleries/89/medium_IMG_0004.JPG5_14_2009_123338_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Italy/89</link><pubDate>Thu, 14 May 2009 12:37:21 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[my bull moose]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/88/medium_01-03-2004 012643PM.BMP5_13_2009_14810_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[i got my bull moose in 2001 in wyoming at the same place.i was shooting my encore in 308 cal.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/my+bull+moose/88</link><pubDate>Wed, 13 May 2009 13:48:18 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[nice bull moose]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/87/medium_01-31-2005 111229AM.BMP5_13_2009_14414_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[deena got this shiras bull moose in 1999 in wyoming.one shot with her contender in 35 rem.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/nice+bull+moose/87</link><pubDate>Wed, 13 May 2009 13:44:46 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[brown bear in alaska]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/86/medium_bear4_5_12_2009_105028_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[i got my brown bear in alaska in 2003.118 yards with an encore hand gun in 454 casull.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/brown+bear+in+alaska/86</link><pubDate>Tue, 12 May 2009 10:50:38 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[black bear in alaska]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/85/medium_bear2_5_12_2009_104632_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[deena got this trophy at 160 yards with her contender in 35 rem in alaska in 2003.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/black+bear+in+alaska/85</link><pubDate>Tue, 12 May 2009 10:46:46 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[nice bull elk for me]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/84/medium_12-16-2003 043236PM.BMP5_11_2009_32700_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[took this bull with my contender in 375 win.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/nice+bull+elk+for+me/84</link><pubDate>Mon, 11 May 2009 15:27:26 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[north american game]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/83/medium_12-20-2003 012723PM.BMP5_11_2009_32337_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[nice bull elk for deena.shooting her scope sighted contender in 35 rem.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/north+american+game/83</link><pubDate>Mon, 11 May 2009 15:24:04 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Stephen Paulikas Mobile Photo Album]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/16/galleries/82/medium_4_media1.jpeg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Mobile Photo Album]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Stephen+Paulikas+Mobile+Photo+Album/82</link><pubDate>Sat, 09 May 2009 12:56:37 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[impala]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/81/medium_my pictures 120_5_8_2009_40046_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[good impala taken in 2002 with blaaukrantz safaris.used a 375 win at 50 yards.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/impala/81</link><pubDate>Fri, 08 May 2009 16:00:53 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[bushbuck]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/80/medium_bushbuck_5_8_2009_35706_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[nice bushbuck taken in 2002 with blaaukrantz safaris.contender in 375 win at 125 yards.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/bushbuck/80</link><pubDate>Fri, 08 May 2009 15:57:17 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[good blesbuck]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/79/medium_blesbok_5_8_2009_35346_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[first african trophy taken in 2002 with blaauwkrantz safaris.shot was 148 yards with a 375 win contender.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/good+blesbuck/79</link><pubDate>Fri, 08 May 2009 15:53:57 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[gemsbok trophy]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/78/medium_gemsbok_5_7_2009_25541_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[taken at 248 yards with a 375 win contender in 2002.hunting with blaauwkrantz safaris.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/gemsbok+trophy/78</link><pubDate>Thu, 07 May 2009 14:59:03 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Monte Cristo - El Salvador]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/75/galleries/77/medium_DSC03798.JPG5_7_2009_124540_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[An inventory of the breeding season birds of Montecristo National Park (El Salvador) estimated relative abundances of birds in cloud forest, pine-oak forest, and Mexican cypress (Cupressus lusitanica) plantations. Methods included intensive searches (4 hours per day), fixed-radius point counts, and mist-netting. A list of 233 bird species was compiled for the park, and the actual species list may be higher than 275, given incomplete sampling and regional bird distributions. Pine-oak forest was by far the most diverse habitat, although bird density was highest in cloud forest. Cypress plantations had intermediate diversity, but lowest bird density, and fewer resident species than the other habitats. Many species at the park are habitat specialists restricted to cloud forest or pine-oak forest. Ten bird species in El Salvador are restricted to Montecristo National Park, and five of these to the cloud forest. Fifty-two percent (118 species) of the park's bird species are threatened in El Salvador, including 22% (53 species) that are endangered at the national level. Of 18 regionally-endemic birds (restricted to northern Central America) reported from El Salvador, 15 are reported from Montecristo, and three are not found anywhere else in El Salvador. Compared to the larger El Triunfo cloud forest in Chiapas, Mexico, Montecristo's cloud forest has about 90% as many resident species, and includes three species not reported at El Triunfo. Five new species of birds are reported for the El Salvador national bird list.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Monte+Cristo+-+El+Salvador/77</link><pubDate>Thu, 07 May 2009 12:46:02 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[old blue wildbeest]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/69/medium_bluewild_5_7_2009_112109_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[hunt in 2005 with spear safaris]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/old+blue+wildbeest/69</link><pubDate>Thu, 07 May 2009 11:21:16 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[good kudu bull]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/76/medium_edfolmar_kudu_5_7_2009_111828_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[taken in 2002 with blaauwkrantz safaris with a 375 win contender]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/good+kudu+bull/76</link><pubDate>Thu, 07 May 2009 11:19:01 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[african eland bull]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/75/medium_Picture 006_5_7_2009_111150_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[first trophy with my 45-70 contender]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/african+eland+bull/75</link><pubDate>Thu, 07 May 2009 11:12:02 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Alaska]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/246/galleries/74/medium_P6110279_0063_063_5_7_2009_22448_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[From British Columbia to Alaska]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Alaska/74</link><pubDate>Thu, 07 May 2009 02:26:41 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Thailand]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/246/galleries/73/medium_P4010577_0064_1_5_7_2009_21851_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[From Bangkok to Phuket]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Thailand/73</link><pubDate>Thu, 07 May 2009 02:21:02 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[the zebra]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/72/medium_12-17-2003 092810PM.BMP5_6_2009_24448_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[very good male zebra taken in africa with blaawkrantz safaris in 2002 with a 375 win. contender hand gun.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/the+zebra/72</link><pubDate>Wed, 06 May 2009 14:45:32 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[male caracal]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/71/medium_caracal_5_6_2009_110152_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[deena got this trophy on our first african adventure with blaauwkrantz safaris in 2002.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/male+caracal/71</link><pubDate>Wed, 06 May 2009 11:05:18 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[old kudu bull]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/70/medium_kudu_5_5_2009_113852_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[deena did a great 142 yard shot on this trophy bull with her hand gun.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/old+kudu+bull/70</link><pubDate>Tue, 05 May 2009 23:39:00 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[old trophy bull]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/68/medium_my pictures 042_5_5_2009_74926_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[this gariffe was quite spectacular.an old bull,past his prime.taken with a handgun.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/old+trophy+bull/68</link><pubDate>Tue, 05 May 2009 20:03:05 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[trophy old cape buffalo]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/67/medium_my pictures 028_5_5_2009_110617_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[this bull was taken with one shot from my contender in 45-70 at 63 yards in 2005 with spear safaris]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/trophy+old+cape+buffalo/67</link><pubDate>Tue, 05 May 2009 11:06:42 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[typical nyala trophy]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/66/medium_my pictures 066_5_3_2009_23754_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[this typical nyala was taken by deena on our 2007 safari with spear safaris.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/typical+nyala+trophy/66</link><pubDate>Sun, 03 May 2009 14:36:59 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[good steenbuck ]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/65/medium_my pictures 068_5_3_2009_23352_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[this was a good find by ernest,a good steen buck for the area on our 2007 safari.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/good+steenbuck+/65</link><pubDate>Sun, 03 May 2009 14:34:00 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[nice warthog]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/64/medium_hunting picturs_5_3_2009_110742_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[warthog with hand gun on 2005 safari with spear safaris.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/nice+warthog/64</link><pubDate>Sun, 03 May 2009 11:08:06 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[rare nyala trophy]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/63/medium_my pictures 035_5_3_2009_105927_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[my wife deena shot this rare nyala in 2005 with spear safaris using her scope sighted contender in 35 rem.she was featured in african sporting gazette as that issues huntress diana.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/rare+nyala+trophy/63</link><pubDate>Sun, 03 May 2009 11:00:07 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[lioness with a hand gun]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/229/galleries/62/medium_my pictures 069_5_2_2009_51759_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[a safari with ernest dyason at spear safaris in africa in 2007.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/lioness+with+a+hand+gun/62</link><pubDate>Sat, 02 May 2009 17:16:34 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Japan]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/209/galleries/60/medium_japan1_4_28_2009_32336_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Japan/60</link><pubDate>Tue, 28 Apr 2009 15:23:45 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Guam]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/209/galleries/59/medium_guam1_4_28_2009_31940_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Boats' and I lived in Guam for 2yrs while stationed there for the Navy.  Heres some of our adventures that we call Waterfall hunting...............]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Guam/59</link><pubDate>Tue, 28 Apr 2009 15:21:30 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Greece]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/209/galleries/58/medium_DH120004_4_28_2009_22035_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Greece/58</link><pubDate>Tue, 28 Apr 2009 14:20:50 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Egypt]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/209/galleries/57/medium_DH090021_4_28_2009_21844_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Egypt/57</link><pubDate>Tue, 28 Apr 2009 14:18:57 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[italy]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/209/galleries/56/medium_DH020028_4_28_2009_21526_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/italy/56</link><pubDate>Tue, 28 Apr 2009 14:16:02 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Waterfall]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/9/galleries/54/medium_3_waterfall.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Waterfall/54</link><pubDate>Tue, 28 Apr 2009 14:13:52 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Leg 2 of the 1st African Safari]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/16/galleries/20/medium_africa 855_2_16_2009_93745_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Off to Botswana]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Leg+2+of+the+1st+African+Safari/20</link><pubDate>Mon, 27 Apr 2009 19:53:04 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Fun Times]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/204/galleries/55/medium_8416800-R1-002-00A_1_4_27_2009_92329_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Fun+Times/55</link><pubDate>Mon, 27 Apr 2009 09:18:11 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Srilu Miryala Mobile Photo Album]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/images/default/defaultPhoto160.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Mobile Photo Album]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Srilu+Miryala+Mobile+Photo+Album/52</link><pubDate>Thu, 23 Apr 2009 19:56:48 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[random pics]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/170/galleries/48/medium_DSCN1806.JPG4_18_2009_102035_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/random+pics/48</link><pubDate>Sat, 18 Apr 2009 10:12:04 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Namib Dessert]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/163/galleries/47/medium_Namib 2008 Hanlie 096_4_16_2009_83616_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[A 5 day trip with group of friends & 4 X 4's in part of the Namib dessert.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Namib+Dessert/47</link><pubDate>Fri, 17 Apr 2009 00:14:24 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Orangeriver]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/163/galleries/46/medium_DSCN0001.JPG4_16_2009_40241_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[A 4 day trip with my son and group on the Orangeriverfrom Vioolsdrift through part of the Richterveld.
Canoeing & swimming the river during the day.Sleeping under the stars on riverbanks at night.
What a unforgetable event]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Orangeriver/46</link><pubDate>Thu, 16 Apr 2009 04:07:02 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Marine Biology-High School Trip]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/160/galleries/45/medium_DSC00234.JPG4_14_2009_11722_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Marine+Biology-High+School+Trip/45</link><pubDate>Tue, 14 Apr 2009 13:17:22 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Shikar-Safari Club event, Cabo San Lucas, March 2009]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/1/galleries/43/medium_Shikar-Safari fish _CHF3398 - Version 2_4_7_2009_110329_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Gallery consists of photos from marlin fishing, touring the coast, driving Baja race cars and other events.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Shikar-Safari+Club+event,+Cabo+San+Lucas,+March+2009/43</link><pubDate>Tue, 07 Apr 2009 11:32:40 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Hanging out in southern Veracruz, Mexico]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/137/galleries/42/medium_DSC_3563.JPG4_6_2009_82635_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Sun, Tropics, Ocean, Seafood, Friendly Folks]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Hanging+out+in+southern+Veracruz,+Mexico/42</link><pubDate>Mon, 06 Apr 2009 22:25:59 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Wisconsin Trout]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/118/galleries/41/medium_2005FlyFishOuting035_4_1_2009_84756_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Wisconsin+Trout/41</link><pubDate>Wed, 01 Apr 2009 20:48:14 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Winter in Chicago]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/9/galleries/40/medium_005_4_1_2009_40230_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Winter+in+Chicago/40</link><pubDate>Wed, 01 Apr 2009 16:07:21 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Amsterdam]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/54/galleries/36/medium_P1000161.JPG3_8_2009_103949_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[A business trip to Amsterdam, but with a little time to explore.  I was amazed at how quiet the streets were, with very little motor traffic in the cental area.  Lots of bicycles, however.

Didn't have time to take a tour of Anne Frank's house, but did manage to see the exterior.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Amsterdam/36</link><pubDate>Sat, 28 Mar 2009 18:09:03 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Mt Aspiring, New Zealand Feb 2009]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/94/galleries/39/medium_P1310093.JPG3_18_2009_30502_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[My climbing partner and I attempted Mount Aspiring in the NZ Summer.  It was a great trip, full of laughter, challenge, sun, wind and snow.

Read the full story at www.adventurecoaching.co.nz/blog.html]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Mt+Aspiring,+New+Zealand+Feb+2009/39</link><pubDate>Wed, 18 Mar 2009 15:10:08 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Cana Island Light House]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/103/galleries/38/medium_100_1197_3_17_2009_14537_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Cana+Island+Light+House/38</link><pubDate>Tue, 17 Mar 2009 13:45:37 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Activities while Traveling]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/81/galleries/37/medium_n515947451_580317_6053_3_15_2009_84924_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Activities+while+Traveling/37</link><pubDate>Sun, 15 Mar 2009 20:49:46 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Archaeologic expedition in Scotland]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/54/galleries/35/medium_ColonsayCloudsAndFlowers_3_8_2009_82717_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[A dig at a mesolithic shell midden on the island of Oronsay in the Inner Hebrides of Scotland.  Also on the island was a medieval priory that had been sacked by Vikings.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Archaeologic+expedition+in+Scotland/35</link><pubDate>Sun, 08 Mar 2009 20:31:59 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Austria and Hungary]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/54/galleries/33/medium_IMG_2324.JPG3_5_2009_111852_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Trip to Salzburg, Graz and Villach Austria.  Sarvar and Budapest, Hungary]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Austria+and+Hungary/33</link><pubDate>Sun, 08 Mar 2009 20:19:34 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Game viewing in Botswana]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/1/galleries/32/medium_chiefs camp day2 316_3_5_2009_82744_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Botswana's Chobe River runs through some of the finest big game country in southern Africa, and we say game everywhere.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Game+viewing+in+Botswana/32</link><pubDate>Fri, 06 Mar 2009 10:37:02 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[MUSKIE]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/23/galleries/34/medium_2006 MUSKY EVENT_3_6_2009_30447_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[CAUGHT & RELEASED 9/2006 ON THE CHIPPEWA FLOWAGE NEAR HAYWARD, WI DURING THE ANNUAL ADVENTURERS CLUB OF CHICAGO MUSKIE TOURNAMENT]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/MUSKIE/34</link><pubDate>Fri, 06 Mar 2009 03:05:17 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[We did a lot of game viewing from this lodge]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/1/galleries/31/medium_DSC_0003.JPG3_5_2009_101140_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[We went there both for wildlife photography and hunting and found fame plentiful. Mike took a beautiful red stag, while I contented myself with tahr and chamois.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/We+did+a+lot+of+game+viewing+from+this+lodge/31</link><pubDate>Thu, 05 Mar 2009 10:11:40 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[An evening with the Devils]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/1/galleries/30/medium_DSC_0170.JPG3_5_2009_95041_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[We spent one evening with a biologist who was very involved with saving the Tasmanian Devils as their numbers are shrinking for some reason]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/An+evening+with+the+Devils/30</link><pubDate>Mon, 02 Mar 2009 16:30:30 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Cats of Paraguay's Chaco region are big!]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/1/galleries/29/medium_Slide11.JPG3_2_2009_102150_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Cats of Paraguay’s Chaco region are not like jaguars anywhere else. They’re big! Sometimes twice the size of leopards. Rocky has taken males that weighed 250 lbs. Females that exceeded 150.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Cats+of+Paraguay's+Chaco+region+are+big!/29</link><pubDate>Mon, 02 Mar 2009 10:21:49 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Chasing cat #1, the Swamp Cat]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/1/galleries/28/medium_Slide62.JPG3_2_2009_95124_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Before catching the big male in the thornbush we chased a female through the swamps]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Chasing+cat+1,+the+Swamp+Cat/28</link><pubDate>Mon, 02 Mar 2009 09:48:13 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[1stAfrican Safari]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/16/galleries/18/medium_IMG_0559.JPG2_14_2009_43349_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Our 1st African Safari - with many to follow.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/1stAfrican+Safari/18</link><pubDate>Tue, 24 Feb 2009 19:54:40 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Zanzibar (Spice Islands Unguja and Pemba)]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/33/galleries/27/medium_DSC06106.JPG2_20_2009_115252_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Beautiful people. Beautiful place. ]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Zanzibar+(Spice+Islands+Unguja+and+Pemba)/27</link><pubDate>Sat, 21 Feb 2009 00:37:15 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Camping in African Bush]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/33/galleries/26/medium_DSC07653.JPG2_20_2009_105713_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Awesome trip where I spent 2-weeks in the African bush camping in a tent. I learned so much on this trip: finding water, navigation w/o compass, tracking large game, approaching dangerous game on foot and by vehicle, plant types, bird trap making, etc.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Camping+in+African+Bush/26</link><pubDate>Fri, 20 Feb 2009 23:08:00 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Mountain Gorillas]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/33/galleries/25/medium_DSC06016.JPG2_20_2009_95301_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[2-weeks of gorilla trekking in Uganda and Rwanda touched my heart. ]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Mountain+Gorillas/25</link><pubDate>Fri, 20 Feb 2009 22:14:57 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[PEACOCK BASS]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/23/galleries/24/medium_HDR PIX 238_2_20_2009_42642_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[CAUGHT ON THE ORINOCO RIVER JANUARY 1983.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/PEACOCK+BASS/24</link><pubDate>Fri, 20 Feb 2009 16:26:59 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Summiting Mt. Kilimanjaro]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/1/galleries/23/medium_Killimanjaro No. 20034.JPG2_17_2009_95317_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Chat and I climbed Kili in three days and a grueling hike through rain forests, alpine meadows and ice covered rocks. But it was worth it! What an experience. Now I'd like to do Aconcagua in South America.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Summiting+Mt+Kilimanjaro/23</link><pubDate>Tue, 17 Feb 2009 09:48:52 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Visiting the mountain gorillas in Rwanda]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/1/galleries/22/medium_Rwanda gorilla_2_17_2009_94550_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[The vegetation in the Rwanda rain forest was almost impenetrable so that when you came upon a gorilla they would be almost within touching distance.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Visiting+the+mountain+gorillas+in+Rwanda/22</link><pubDate>Tue, 17 Feb 2009 09:39:06 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Arctic Expedition]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/1/galleries/21/medium_Dogs on polar bear hunt_2_17_2009_93721_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Sleeping in a tent at 50 degrees below zero and riding by dogsled across the frozen sea was an awesome experience]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Arctic+Expedition/21</link><pubDate>Tue, 17 Feb 2009 09:31:29 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Darting the big male]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/1/galleries/19/medium_Slide95.JPG2_15_2009_63444_AM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[We put him to sleep but not without a struggle]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Darting+the+big+male/19</link><pubDate>Sun, 15 Feb 2009 06:34:44 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Grand Canyon South Rim October 2005]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/13/galleries/17/medium_10-9-2005-063_2_13_2009_103313_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[These are photos from a trip we took to the Grand Canyon in October 2005]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Grand+Canyon+South+Rim+October+2005/17</link><pubDate>Fri, 13 Feb 2009 22:33:32 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Hoover Dam January 2009]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/13/galleries/14/medium_P1160039.JPG2_13_2009_102703_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Trip with my wife Paula to Hoover Dam in January 2009]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Hoover+Dam+January+2009/14</link><pubDate>Fri, 13 Feb 2009 22:26:13 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Greece 07]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/11/galleries/11/medium_Greece1_2_13_2009_50314_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Athens!]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Greece+07/11</link><pubDate>Fri, 13 Feb 2009 17:03:20 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[South Padre]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/images/default/defaultPhoto160.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/South+Padre/10</link><pubDate>Fri, 13 Feb 2009 15:53:55 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Trip to Byblos]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/3/galleries/5/medium_byblos1_2_13_2009_31827_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Trip+to+Byblos/5</link><pubDate>Fri, 13 Feb 2009 15:20:23 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Hiking through the mountains]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/2/galleries/4/medium_DSC00569_2_13_2009_23802_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[We traveled a lot by foot and hiked all across the terrain.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Hiking+through+the+mountains/4</link><pubDate>Fri, 13 Feb 2009 14:38:56 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Visit to Zuma Beach]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/2/galleries/3/medium_IMG_0513_2_13_2009_23358_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Spent a nice long day at Zuma Beach enjoying the high waves.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Visit+to+Zuma+Beach/3</link><pubDate>Fri, 13 Feb 2009 14:33:58 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Visit to the California Wineries in Santa Barbara]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/images/default/defaultPhoto160.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[We spent about 4 days traveling around the different wineries and visiting the lavender farms.]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Visit+to+the+California+Wineries+in+Santa+Barbara/2</link><pubDate>Fri, 13 Feb 2009 14:31:36 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Enjoying the view in Krakow]]></title><description>&#60;p>&#60;img src="http://www.myadventures.com/uploadedImages/2/galleries/1/medium_DSC03045_2_13_2009_22605_PM.jpg" align="left" border="0" /><![CDATA[Stayed at a warm hotel over looking the square]]>&#60;/p></description><link>http://www.myadventures.com/Photos/Enjoying+the+view+in+Krakow/1</link><pubDate>Fri, 13 Feb 2009 14:26:05 GMT</pubDate></item></channel></rss>