Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! screamed the headlines of the newspapers of 1897 and thousands of people from around the world made the long journey from Seattle to Dawson City to find and make their fortune. Those people, those determined dreamers we called the miners, made most of their journey on boats, only 33 miles of the route to Dawson did they have to do on foot, over the Chilkoot trail. This they did, with the required "ton" (roughly 1,500 pounds) of gear required by the Canadian government, during the gold rush years of 1897-1899. Miners, incidentally, were not the first to travel the Chilkoot terrain, native populations of Alaska and Canada had used the route for centuries to trade. The primary groups of the area were the Chilkats (belonging to the Tlingit nation of Alaska) and other groups living along the Yukon River.
I found out I would be making the same trip over the Chilkoot with my stepdad and a friend of ours four days before their expected departure date. The news came to me through a text from my mom, one I received while both recovering from a flu bug and visiting my grandparents at their home in Wasilla. "Sure, I'll go" I replied to my mom. They had arranged for three people to go on the trail, and when one in our party cancelled, I was elected to go instead. I had wanted to before, once I knew the trip was planned, but I knew that only three could go, it would be too difficult to change the plans. So I was excited to go, though there was no time for me to do any research (or any physical preparations), I really had no idea what I was getting into. This was how it was each day of the hike. But hey, I like surprises, and I figured it would be more authentic, cause the miners wouldn't have known much about what they were getting into either.
Leaving the house in Anchorage on a Saturday, we arrived in Skagway Alaska the next day with one overnight stop. We had the day to prepare our packs and ready them to begin our hike Monday morning. I didn't have to carry as many as 100 pounds, let alone 1,000. With all my gear (which, naturally, included a book) and some communal gear for our trio, my pack was roughly 25 pounds (a good amount for someone of my size). The miners, making the same trip, would have to make multiple trips from one camp along the trail to the next, dropping off some of their gear to go back and get the rest and so on. Many traveled with partners, one to guard stuff while the other retrieved more. The "ton of goods" was the amount that the Canadian guards, the mounties, decreed were suitable for health and mining purposes for one year and those with less than that amount with them at the border crossing were sent back to Skagway. To help them, some miners hired native "packers" who would help carry stuff for a dollar a pound. Occasionally, however, another miner would come along and offer the packers more money per pound, so the packer would drop whatever they carried and leave it to accept the new offer.
Monday, before we left Skagway, we listened to a talk given by a Park Service Representative about the trail. They gave safety tips, a map of the trail, and other relevant information. Then it was into the shuttle to get to the old townsite of Dyea (there is no longer a town there) and the Chilkoot Trail Head. After pictures at the start, we headed off down the trail. We had four or five miles to go to get to our first stop, Canyon City. The trail was gorgeous, but the weather was super super hot. We stopped for short breaks to drink water (and to rest in the shade or by rivers) and I was slathered in sunblock and bug dope. Surprisingly, out of all the people who were at the trailhead when we were, our small and tired group got to Canyon City camp ground first. Setting up the tent was easy, and then we were off to explore. During the gold rush, a horse and wagon team hauled a huge boiler up to Canyon city, a remarkable feat. The boiler, used to power a tram that the more wealthy miners would use to haul their goods, is very rusted now but is still there where it was, though the park rangers said it is slowly sinking, and they are trying to find a way to keep if from doing so. Canyon City, during the rush, grew fast with houses and hotels being built, but in less than a year after its heyday it was deserted, once the train rails were laid and walking to the Klondike was less common.
Tuesday was also a short distance day, from Canyon City to Sheep Camp. It was even hotter that day, and the bugs equally as bad as the day before, but I decided the bugs were the lesser of two evils and backpacked with less gear on than I had started with. The last couple miles to Sheep Camp were the most difficult. Arriving at Sheep Camp was less of a relief than I was expecting. Sure it was great to drop the packs and chat with the other hikers, but it was SO buggy....really hard to take. But we stayed inside the cooking cabins and tents and things got better. A ranger was established in a cabin at Sheep Camp, she came in the evening to talk about the trail and the gold rush. One of the most noteworthy things she spoke about was how little thievery was tolerated. I kind of thought it would be everywhere, but she spoke of one instance where a man was caught stealing and publicly punished before losing all his things. It was not tolerated then. It did not occur at all while we were there.
Wednesday. The hardest day. Not distance wise, but difficulty wise. For this was the day that we were to climb the mountain, and ascend Chilkoot Pass. Rangers advised that we wake up and be ready to leave camp by 4:30 am in case of an avalanche. So we did. Before getting to the mountains at all, we had Long Hill, four miles of uphill to climb, with one nerve wracking water crossing. The weather was foggy and wet. Once we got up Long Hill, it got snowy. Those we spoke to with Chilkoot experience advised us to, when crossing snow, to avoid rocks that absorb heat and melt the snow around them, making it easier to fall through. We avoided rocks and no one fell through, or down at this point. The wet weather continued as we went farther. The Scales is the area at the base of the mountain. This is where miners would have their goods weighed, where they would leave behind anything that they didn't need. There were lots of cool relics to see. Beyond the Scales is the Pass, and area called the Golden Stairs. In the winter, they would carve steps into the snow, hence the stairs name. We were hiking in the last week of June, there was some snow but not enough for stairs. Most of our climb was over rock, and it was very wet and misty while we climbed. I didn't look down or up as I climbed with my pack (don't lean back!) just right in front of me. I sang, I joked, and I also did some swearing. At this point, there wasn't much of a "trail" instead it was more of a route. On the Alaska side we followed tall orange pipes to keep our way. The Canadian side had smaller orange flags. Once we made it to the top of the mountain, I was very tired. We still had maybe four hours to our next stop, Happy Camp. Somehow, I did it. As I walked, I thought of the miners, how they could do what they did...it is amazing what greed, or maybe hope, will do to a person.
Happy Camp was a nice place. Well, still snowy and wet, but nice. The miners weren't so happy. In the cook cabin there, there was a large sign on the wall with a blurb and photos. A quote from one miner was quoted, who despaired over the one tent and small meal he received there. There was no real need that Wednesday, to worry about avalanches. Still, we thought it best not to take chances. Though we only had about seven miles to go, it was rough terrain and we did not make it to Happy Camp until around three in the afternoon. It was a LONG day.
Thursday was my favorite day. I woke up feeling like after Wednesday, I could handle anything the trail dished out. I was also eager to leave the snow and wet behind. Once it cleared up along the trail, it was more and more gorgeous. Some of it, I thought, was like being in the Scottish Highlands. I haven't been to Scotland, but I think Scotland would look like that. So, so pretty. Thursday we had nine miles to walk, but quite an easier terrain. We stopped for lunch at Lindeman City (six miles into our day's hike), not much of a city anymore, but a nice campground, and an area only reachable by walking the Chilkoot. There was a cemetery there, with surprisingly new grave stones. Also a museum of sorts, with old photos and miner's recollections. There we found sheets of paper that served as self-made certificates, ones that proved we had hiked the Chilkoot. Our camping that night was done at Bare Lune Lake, which some say got its name due to both the birds that live there and the people that swim there....with or without their clothing. I did not swim. The cook area there was nice, it had open walls.
Friday was the last day we had, and we only had four miles left. There was no hurry, it didn't take us long to go the four miles, and the train at Lake Bennett would not come for us until two that afternoon. Friday's trail had us walking through some sand...not easy, but it was not a long stretch. Bennett has the only remaining building from the 1890s. A church, called St. Andrews. The inside is no longer open to the public, but the old building still made for some nice photos. The train station at Bennett was a nice place. They gave us a meal (well, we paid for it, but still) of beef stew and apple pie and bread and coffee, pretty authentic I think. I ate a LOT of food. The train ride back to Skagway was pleasant. I did a lot of reflecting on the changes from the gold rush days to what things are like now.
We had dinner in Skagway and stayed there Friday night, to head back to Anchorage Saturday. Again, I ate quite a bit. After all that exercise, I was pretty hungry. We made it back to Anchorage by Sunday. We showed pictures from the trail to my mom. And I slept very well that night.
The Chilkoot Trail was spectacular, and probably the most dangerous thing I have ever done. Especially Wednesday, there were many times that day I thought I wouldn't make it out of there. Even with no training, I am very glad I went. Along with the memories, I have the tactical mementos of both my trail certificate, a t-shirt from Carcross, Yukon Territory, and, of course, some fantastic photos.
Thanks to the U.S. and Canada Park Service Representatives for their historical information, as well as Archie Satterfield's guide the the Chilkoot Pass for the facts I learned.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Saturday, May 4, 2013
17 days ago
Seventeen days ago I had a weekend I really enjoyed. Time has slipped fast as it usually does this time of year, when everyone finishes classes and prepares for finals and for moving, so I'll remember the details as well as I can. As I reminisce, I may remember random little details as this is the way I usually think. My mom once put it that a "stream of conscious" writing style is mine. I don't change anything here, not once I type the last period. It goes straight to published from there. I like to be as honest as possible. I'm not offering any apology, really, just an explanation. Hmm, something a little different, maybe.
My weekend started officially at two pm Friday, when my last class of the day ended. My class was Environmental Communication and I exited the Natural Resources building to the bright outside with a mood as high as the clouds. I had given my last speech of the semester. It really is a heady feeling, when everything inside just screams "DONE!" The sense of freedom truly is remarkable. I hope this is something adults (or professionals?) experience also, I mean not just students or young people. My speech had gone well too. My topic was to convince people to stop buying plastic disposable bottles and use reusable containers instead. It was a good day for speeches, many of my classmates were very entertaining in giving theirs. The feeling of relief in the room was palpable, no more speeches for anyone.
At some point before or after this test I had the chance to go and visit horses. The first two I met were in the care of Heart of the Redwoods Horse Rescue, where I occasionally volunteer. The two I met were named Louis and Olive, they had been in McKinleyville so I had not had the chance to meet them before. Louis is a Thoroughbred, he towered over Olive. The two seemed to skirmish a lot, as horses can, but they also seemed really affectionate with each other too. Maybe similar to human relationships. Olive is gorgeous, bright red and her blaze is precious. Louis is a bay and both of them love carrots. They live in a huge pasture in McKineleyville, which was nice, but part of it was quite the quagmire of mud and puddles. It was very interesting ground, the horses don't mind. I hope to get the chance to visit them again before I have to go back to Anchorage. Nearby the horse pasture was some sort of water tower or some other building, I can't remember exactly what. There were goats around it behind the fence, I guess they were kept there to keep the grass down. They liked the carrots too.
The best part of that weekend, roughly three weeks ago (this weekend too, incidentally) was the weather. It is really hard to stay inside right now and then was impossible. So I took a favorite old book outside and read for a long time. It was very pleasant. Later that Friday night I got ready to go swing dancing. I have a new dress, one I got in Hawaii over winter break, that has a perfect twirly skirt for dancing. It was the first time I had made it out to dance in a while and was totally worth it. I got to catch up with old friends. There was a live band that was great also. I left once the band did though the dancing continued with recorded music. As it had been so long since I had danced I was tired and sore. But it was totally worth it. The evening was warm which was nice so that I wasn't cold walking back home. I stopped along the way to buy some donuts, an odd craving I had. They were delicious. I will definitely get to dancing again before the semester ends.
The highlight of my Saturday was going to a local business called Cafe Mokka. They have great hot chocolate and the building itself is really cool. It was constructed in a Finnish style, I am pretty sure. All the door knobs are wooden and most of the decorations are obscure musical instruments. Anyone who visits Arcata should visit Cafe Mokka too, although it is a cafe with coffee and what not, it does not open until noon every day. This must be because of the other aspect of their business. They have private hot tubs for rent, for an hour or half an hour. When I went I chose the half an hour option, an hour would be too long. The entire hot tub was wooden and very deep, but nice. I really liked how they were outside so it was possible to see the sky and some trees. But the small area was separated from the others by walls. It really was very relaxing, I should like to go back soon.
Those 17 days I mentioned went by fast. I have less than that left in Arcata. Now I am preparing for finals and moving all these things I have to tubs for storage or to suitcases to have back home in Anchorage. I will miss all my Californian friends this summer, but I am excited to see everyone back home. This summer will be interesting for sure, I will continue to share stories about it here. I probably will not have time to write anything else though until I get back home at the end of May. Have a good weekend!
Juls
My weekend started officially at two pm Friday, when my last class of the day ended. My class was Environmental Communication and I exited the Natural Resources building to the bright outside with a mood as high as the clouds. I had given my last speech of the semester. It really is a heady feeling, when everything inside just screams "DONE!" The sense of freedom truly is remarkable. I hope this is something adults (or professionals?) experience also, I mean not just students or young people. My speech had gone well too. My topic was to convince people to stop buying plastic disposable bottles and use reusable containers instead. It was a good day for speeches, many of my classmates were very entertaining in giving theirs. The feeling of relief in the room was palpable, no more speeches for anyone.
At some point before or after this test I had the chance to go and visit horses. The first two I met were in the care of Heart of the Redwoods Horse Rescue, where I occasionally volunteer. The two I met were named Louis and Olive, they had been in McKinleyville so I had not had the chance to meet them before. Louis is a Thoroughbred, he towered over Olive. The two seemed to skirmish a lot, as horses can, but they also seemed really affectionate with each other too. Maybe similar to human relationships. Olive is gorgeous, bright red and her blaze is precious. Louis is a bay and both of them love carrots. They live in a huge pasture in McKineleyville, which was nice, but part of it was quite the quagmire of mud and puddles. It was very interesting ground, the horses don't mind. I hope to get the chance to visit them again before I have to go back to Anchorage. Nearby the horse pasture was some sort of water tower or some other building, I can't remember exactly what. There were goats around it behind the fence, I guess they were kept there to keep the grass down. They liked the carrots too.
The best part of that weekend, roughly three weeks ago (this weekend too, incidentally) was the weather. It is really hard to stay inside right now and then was impossible. So I took a favorite old book outside and read for a long time. It was very pleasant. Later that Friday night I got ready to go swing dancing. I have a new dress, one I got in Hawaii over winter break, that has a perfect twirly skirt for dancing. It was the first time I had made it out to dance in a while and was totally worth it. I got to catch up with old friends. There was a live band that was great also. I left once the band did though the dancing continued with recorded music. As it had been so long since I had danced I was tired and sore. But it was totally worth it. The evening was warm which was nice so that I wasn't cold walking back home. I stopped along the way to buy some donuts, an odd craving I had. They were delicious. I will definitely get to dancing again before the semester ends.
The highlight of my Saturday was going to a local business called Cafe Mokka. They have great hot chocolate and the building itself is really cool. It was constructed in a Finnish style, I am pretty sure. All the door knobs are wooden and most of the decorations are obscure musical instruments. Anyone who visits Arcata should visit Cafe Mokka too, although it is a cafe with coffee and what not, it does not open until noon every day. This must be because of the other aspect of their business. They have private hot tubs for rent, for an hour or half an hour. When I went I chose the half an hour option, an hour would be too long. The entire hot tub was wooden and very deep, but nice. I really liked how they were outside so it was possible to see the sky and some trees. But the small area was separated from the others by walls. It really was very relaxing, I should like to go back soon.
Those 17 days I mentioned went by fast. I have less than that left in Arcata. Now I am preparing for finals and moving all these things I have to tubs for storage or to suitcases to have back home in Anchorage. I will miss all my Californian friends this summer, but I am excited to see everyone back home. This summer will be interesting for sure, I will continue to share stories about it here. I probably will not have time to write anything else though until I get back home at the end of May. Have a good weekend!
Juls
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
celebrating Cesar Chavez day
I have to be completely honest. Before that week I didn't know who Cesar Chavez was. I understand that Californians know but in Alaska I don't think we had that lesson. I was interested to learn about him. Most of my information came from my Political Science class, a class that against my first expectations I rather enjoy.
My reasons for celebrating however went beyond just the one day. It was the whole weekend I so appreciated (along with the reason for it, HSU recognized Chavez day as a holiday to cancel Monday's classes) because I had family come and see me. My mom and my cousin Alice arrived Thursday afternoon in time for my classes to finish, leaving (most) of my evening free to spend time with them as unfortunately the weekend also required that I finish a lot of writing assignments...all of which are now complete (and if I may boast, sport fairly decent grades too). Mom brought me the best present ever, a piece of art made by a special cousin in Florida.
Due to the Thursday evening time constraints, Alice and mom and I only had time to catch up a bit and share a meal at the Plaza Grill in Arcata. I had an absolutely delicious hamburger. Then I went back to my room and wrote and wrote and wrote. The next day was more fun, once I finished classes I met up with Alice and mom and we went all around the campus. The weather was very nice but a bit warm. Later we ate at another restaurant with my friend Emmy. We always have fun when mom comes to visit as college students don't get to eat out much. We got to go for ice cream too. If anyone comes to Arcata to see me (or later on to see the redwoods) I highly suggest going to Arcata Scoop, they have delicious products.
Finally came Saturday, the first real weekend day. The weather was more cloudy yet abstained from raining, perfect as far as I am concerned. Mom and Alice got to meet David. First we had breakfast at Renata's Creperie (another place to definitely find yourself a patron) and I was the only one to have a sweet crepe which was delicious. Mom told some stories of yours truly growing up. I was fascinated, they were new stories to me. After breakfast we went walking on Mad River Beach. Mom and I walked together talking about our Alaskan friends and catching up, Alice and David walked ahead talking about computers, a mutual interest of theirs. It was a lovely day to be outside. Unfortunately we couldn't spend the whole day outdoors as I had more work to do. We met up again later for dinner. This time it was a small bistro in Eureka where mom and I had been on a previous visit. I ate so much food but before it was served I filled out my absentee Anchorage ballot, not an easy feat in the dimly lit restaurant.
That night I stayed with Mom in the hotel. She and I went down to the pool, where we met two charming children. The boy was about Colin's age. The girl was a bit older. Her name was Jayci. She was only eleven, but from little prompting from me she told me of her aspirations to go to university in the state of Oregon and study to be an orthodontist. She convinced me to leave the hot tub and enter the cooler pool. I hadn't swam in a while, but we had races and floating contests and more conversation. She taught me how to do an underwater handstand as this was something I had never attempted before. In a couple attempts I figured out the proper positioning, but with less speed and finesse as Jayci who has had more practice. Before bed mom showed me an absolutely adorable Easter Peep's commercial that became a shared joke for us the rest of the weekend. If you have the curiosity and a minute to spare, feel free to see the link below and watch for yourselves.
The next day was Easter Sunday. Alice, mom and I piled in to our rental car to drive down to the Avenue of the Giants (another place worth seeing here) and look around. Mom drove. We did look at the amazing trees and numerous informational signs. One depicted an alternate route back to the main highway of 101, reputed to be more scenic. In the Alaskan way, mom and I decided to check this out with only one (likely highly outdated) sign. It was supposed to be a short ways, but the road ended up being a lot longer than that. We hadn't planned ahead and purchased any lunch. We thought for a minute we were going the wrong way but eventually found out it was right after all. We came upon a small store that was just about to close but not before we got some snacks (and popsicles) for the rest of the drive. The first part and last of the drive were the most beautiful. Back at the hotel I made significant progress on my homework.
Monday was the best of the days. We met again with David and had breakfast at a local cafe. Again, I had a sweeter breakfast. Then we drove north to Fern Canyon. I slept most of the way there and was surprised to find how quickly we found ourselves an hour away from Arcata. Fern Canyon is awesome. I am not sure my words will do it justice. To get there it is necessary to drive first through a large puddle and later through two streams. Once the parking lot is reached it is only a short walk to get to Fern Canyon and the creek. There is a trail that goes up above then canyon and looks down into it that is really cool and not very long. It is only a loop if on the way back hikers walk through the creek, which is possible. This Mom, David and I did, Alice opted to go back along the trail. The creek is not that deep nor fast moving. Most areas have fallen logs in strategic places. These I did not need, my neoprene rain boots did the job for me.
Fern Canyon is not a large canyon. I don't think it was more than 15 feet tall, but I am not a good judge. It is one of those places where it seems like no one else has been and you can't hear anything but the water and the quiet. True to it's name, Fern Canyon is populated with ferns. Trees are there too, fallen in the creek and above the canyon. I saw no litter except one cigarette end on the trail. People walked through the creek in all types of shoes (or barefoot) heedless of the chilly water. It is so worth it. There was so much green in the foliage, the sky was light grey and far away, there was no fog. The water was clear and browner naturally in some areas. The rocks and pebbles were all water worn smooth and when wet were a kaleidoscope under the movement of the creek. Dry and on shore they were slightly less colorful. I chose an orange rock about the size of half a potato to take home. Nothing alive did I intentionally disturb.
Back in Arcata Alice and mom said goodbye to David and thanked him for showing us Fern Canyon when we dropped him off. Alice we dropped off at the hotel so mom and I could go get pedicures. It was very relaxing. Alice wanted to stay behind and prepare for their departure the next morning. Mom and I ate on the Plaza at an Italian place called Mazzotti's. I like it there though that time our waitress was a bit abrasive, maybe she had had a long day. After dinner I tried to direct mom to David's house, where she would drop me off. They were to leave early the next morning so it was good bye. Still I am used to Arcata on foot, the streets as only cars can go are rather different. Especially when everything is dark. After slight struggle (gentle annoyance on mom's side, amusement on mine) we made it. It was a hard good bye, but I will be going home to family and familiar in one month...not long to wait now.
So, that was my first Cesar Chavez day. I will remember it fondly. I look forward to the rest that I will have. Below is the link I mentioned earlier to the commercial. I think those with younger brothers, sons, a fondness for cute kids or yellow marshmallow birds will enjoy this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIKBnKPchUY
Sunday, March 24, 2013
spring break
California, or at least the parts I have seen in detail, always seem like spring to me. I can probably say this, and am probably believable, because I grew up in a place with drastic differences between the seasons. But I have spent two years here, or two winters anyway, in northern California, and I notice differences from autumn to winter to spring. It is always green, always. And some plants have blooms I can notice any time. But spring is a special time, because some of my favorite flowers come out (bright, flashy rhododendrons, sunny yellow daffodils), and we have more clear blue days. Honestly, everyone should see the contrast of the redwoods against the blue sky. It is absolutely amazing. I am so lucky to be able to enjoy it all the time, either on my way to class or during the days I have off to spend more time outside.
My spring break is on it's final day. I am back on campus (and behind the redwood curtain) again now. This week has been so full of activities though, I have been busier than I am when class is in session. I spent the first part of my week off with my boyfriend David in his hometown, Martinez. I hadn't heard of Martinez before. It's one of many towns in the San Francisco Bay Area. Apparently John Muir used to live there. It is very hilly, and green also, but not like the redwoods. The trip there took most of our Friday. We left Arcata early in the morning, and we got to Sacramento around midday. We did stop for breakfast along the way. The diner was small, full of locals or regulars. It seemed like a setting for a movie or a book, how the waitresses knew the other people dining, talked to them like old friends. The regulars looked at us with some curiosity, but not a whole lot as the place was right off the highway.
Sacramento was not our final stop. David told me it was about an hour and a half away from Martinez...by train. I have not been on a train since I was young, and on the Amtrak we boarded I must admit I acted that way. Young, I mean. I was pointing at everything and bouncing in my seat. Nobody sat near us, but that wouldn't have mattered to me. It was exciting, to see the cars on the highway, the hillsides of wildflowers, the glimpses into people's backyards. The driver (conductor?) must really have liked sounding the horn, it went off repeatedly at every intersection. Passing trains going the other way made me a bit nervous, both locomotives were going fast and the tracks were very close to each other. Near Martinez David pointed out refineries. I don't like the principle of those, but I recognize the need for them in today's society. One had quite a bit of it's structures painted green. I thought it looked like Oz.
The reality of Martinez was not so fanciful, but it was fun. I went to a farmer's market with David and his parents. We ate huge crepes and listened to a guitar performer. I spoke to a soap vendor, she made all her products herself. She said usually the colors in her soaps were natural, but sometimes she had to doctor them. Like chemistry. Another vendor sold flowers, daffodils and narcissus. He was really interesting to speak with. He said he cut all his flowers by hand, off of large fields. He couldn't use gloves, because you have to be able to feel what you are doing. He couldn't use scissors, because it is better not to cut the leaves. He said that the stems of the narcissus have some properties that bother the skin. He also said he had a friend who taught him how to graft flower genes to make the daffodils and narcissus have different petal colors, but he didn't have much time to use that skill because he focused on selling the flowers. David's mom bought some and let me hold them. They smelled wonderful.
A while back for my environmental law and regulation class, we learned about the case going through about Point Reyes National Seashore and the oyster farming going on there. I was really interested in it because it was something real that was happening, not some example made up in a book. So when I found out how close Point Reyes was to Martinez, I was really hoping I could visit (my new facebook profile picture was taken there). I was very, very glad when we (David, his dad, and I) did. It was very windy there, but it was clear the day we went. We saw the lighthouse, even got to go inside. It was a lot of steps down to get there. Inside the lighthouse were plaques with information, and a guide was there to answer questions. The light of the lighthouse was made with 1,032 pieces of glass. We didn't see any whales that day, the ones that migrate back to Alaska (yay home) around this time of year. But we did get to see elephant seals--from a safe distance. Dairy ranches were still in operation there, on the shuttle back to the main visitor's center we passed a cow giving birth. We didn't stop to watch. Before we left, we stopped by the oyster farm (which will have to close down soon, changing the area from potential to designated wilderness). Nobody bought anything, but we looked around. The ground everywhere was littered with old oyster shells, and there were bags and bags of them in stacks too.
Last winter, when my parents and I took our road trip through the southwest, we stopped in Santa Cruz for a couple days. It was my favorite part of that trip (okay, one of my favorite parts). So, I was thrilled at the chance I had to return. David and I went to visit his sister, JJ, who goes to school at UC Santa Cruz. The three of us had a great visit (with plenty of good food) and a bit of an adventure. We went to a beach called Seabright, that had a lighthouse on one end and a large rock on the other. There was more beach on the other side of the rock. We decided to go around the rock to get to the other beach. There was a creek on the other side. Wading through, I got my skirt wet. At first I wasn't happy, but it dried fairly quickly and wasn't a huge deal. Along side the beach we were on was a boardwalk though most of the attractions were closed for winter. We still walked though part of it and on the pier at the end (where we saw sea lions). We must have spent a couple hours there because when we got back to the rock to get to the other side, the tide had risen.
This is where the adventure part comes in. There was no bridge or sidewalk to get to the other beach. Basically our options were to go around the rock or over it. I didn't really want to get wet again crossing the river...so I had a piggyback ride from David. JJ decided to brave the deeper water and go around the rock, to meet David and I on the other side. David and I climbed over the rock. At the time, I will admit, I didn't like the situation much. We did make it back to the car, but with slightly more stress on my part than I would have preferred. Now though, looking back, I realize what I great story it makes, getting past that obstacle. Also I knew at the time that it would make a great story.
I got back to Arcata on Wednesday. I took the Amtrak bus from the station at Martinez. I needed to get back to work on my school work, David stayed to visit more with his family. I've been pretty productive indeed, and have enjoyed going back in the redwoods. Still I don't know how ready I feel for classes to start up again tomorrow, but so they will and I will go. These past few days have been a great time to get caught up and to get ahead...so I can prepare for my mom's visit. She comes Thursday, and I am very excited....about as much as I was to visit Martinez.
My spring break is on it's final day. I am back on campus (and behind the redwood curtain) again now. This week has been so full of activities though, I have been busier than I am when class is in session. I spent the first part of my week off with my boyfriend David in his hometown, Martinez. I hadn't heard of Martinez before. It's one of many towns in the San Francisco Bay Area. Apparently John Muir used to live there. It is very hilly, and green also, but not like the redwoods. The trip there took most of our Friday. We left Arcata early in the morning, and we got to Sacramento around midday. We did stop for breakfast along the way. The diner was small, full of locals or regulars. It seemed like a setting for a movie or a book, how the waitresses knew the other people dining, talked to them like old friends. The regulars looked at us with some curiosity, but not a whole lot as the place was right off the highway.
Sacramento was not our final stop. David told me it was about an hour and a half away from Martinez...by train. I have not been on a train since I was young, and on the Amtrak we boarded I must admit I acted that way. Young, I mean. I was pointing at everything and bouncing in my seat. Nobody sat near us, but that wouldn't have mattered to me. It was exciting, to see the cars on the highway, the hillsides of wildflowers, the glimpses into people's backyards. The driver (conductor?) must really have liked sounding the horn, it went off repeatedly at every intersection. Passing trains going the other way made me a bit nervous, both locomotives were going fast and the tracks were very close to each other. Near Martinez David pointed out refineries. I don't like the principle of those, but I recognize the need for them in today's society. One had quite a bit of it's structures painted green. I thought it looked like Oz.
The reality of Martinez was not so fanciful, but it was fun. I went to a farmer's market with David and his parents. We ate huge crepes and listened to a guitar performer. I spoke to a soap vendor, she made all her products herself. She said usually the colors in her soaps were natural, but sometimes she had to doctor them. Like chemistry. Another vendor sold flowers, daffodils and narcissus. He was really interesting to speak with. He said he cut all his flowers by hand, off of large fields. He couldn't use gloves, because you have to be able to feel what you are doing. He couldn't use scissors, because it is better not to cut the leaves. He said that the stems of the narcissus have some properties that bother the skin. He also said he had a friend who taught him how to graft flower genes to make the daffodils and narcissus have different petal colors, but he didn't have much time to use that skill because he focused on selling the flowers. David's mom bought some and let me hold them. They smelled wonderful.
A while back for my environmental law and regulation class, we learned about the case going through about Point Reyes National Seashore and the oyster farming going on there. I was really interested in it because it was something real that was happening, not some example made up in a book. So when I found out how close Point Reyes was to Martinez, I was really hoping I could visit (my new facebook profile picture was taken there). I was very, very glad when we (David, his dad, and I) did. It was very windy there, but it was clear the day we went. We saw the lighthouse, even got to go inside. It was a lot of steps down to get there. Inside the lighthouse were plaques with information, and a guide was there to answer questions. The light of the lighthouse was made with 1,032 pieces of glass. We didn't see any whales that day, the ones that migrate back to Alaska (yay home) around this time of year. But we did get to see elephant seals--from a safe distance. Dairy ranches were still in operation there, on the shuttle back to the main visitor's center we passed a cow giving birth. We didn't stop to watch. Before we left, we stopped by the oyster farm (which will have to close down soon, changing the area from potential to designated wilderness). Nobody bought anything, but we looked around. The ground everywhere was littered with old oyster shells, and there were bags and bags of them in stacks too.
Last winter, when my parents and I took our road trip through the southwest, we stopped in Santa Cruz for a couple days. It was my favorite part of that trip (okay, one of my favorite parts). So, I was thrilled at the chance I had to return. David and I went to visit his sister, JJ, who goes to school at UC Santa Cruz. The three of us had a great visit (with plenty of good food) and a bit of an adventure. We went to a beach called Seabright, that had a lighthouse on one end and a large rock on the other. There was more beach on the other side of the rock. We decided to go around the rock to get to the other beach. There was a creek on the other side. Wading through, I got my skirt wet. At first I wasn't happy, but it dried fairly quickly and wasn't a huge deal. Along side the beach we were on was a boardwalk though most of the attractions were closed for winter. We still walked though part of it and on the pier at the end (where we saw sea lions). We must have spent a couple hours there because when we got back to the rock to get to the other side, the tide had risen.
This is where the adventure part comes in. There was no bridge or sidewalk to get to the other beach. Basically our options were to go around the rock or over it. I didn't really want to get wet again crossing the river...so I had a piggyback ride from David. JJ decided to brave the deeper water and go around the rock, to meet David and I on the other side. David and I climbed over the rock. At the time, I will admit, I didn't like the situation much. We did make it back to the car, but with slightly more stress on my part than I would have preferred. Now though, looking back, I realize what I great story it makes, getting past that obstacle. Also I knew at the time that it would make a great story.
I got back to Arcata on Wednesday. I took the Amtrak bus from the station at Martinez. I needed to get back to work on my school work, David stayed to visit more with his family. I've been pretty productive indeed, and have enjoyed going back in the redwoods. Still I don't know how ready I feel for classes to start up again tomorrow, but so they will and I will go. These past few days have been a great time to get caught up and to get ahead...so I can prepare for my mom's visit. She comes Thursday, and I am very excited....about as much as I was to visit Martinez.
Friday, January 25, 2013
aloha
My three week vacation in Hawaii went by fast and well. There was a lot that happened on Oahu and Molokai. Ideally I would have recorded more over the trip but circumstances prevented this. It was also vacation time and I must admit I did enjoy it very much though I put off the use of computers for the most part.
By far my favorite part of my vacation was the snorkeling trip Colin, Mark and I went on. The name of the adventure was Dolphin Excursions and they didn't disappoint. We were lucky that morning with sunny clear skies even though I remember there being some wind. This was on Oahu still, but I don't remember the name of the area we were in. I was a little bit nervous, it had been a long time since I had done any snorkeling. It was also pretty early in the morning so the whole group was slightly subdued. Excited, but quiet.
First we stopped to have everyone explore, check their equipment, and get used to snorkeling before we saw any dolphins. The first place we stopped was near this small coral reef. I did see lots of fish that I don't remember the name of, and some that I do including convict tangs, and the reef triggerfish or humuhumunukunukuapua'a (I like that word). One fish was one of the oddest fish I've seen, it was long and white and wiggled as it swam like a jiggling noodle. He seemed curious about me, he stayed floating close to me for a while. I didn't move either, I just watched him for a while. He was maybe a yard away...although after a while I did turn my head to look at something else and when I looked back he was gone. The tour guide said he was a cornet fish. I read about them later online, they are pretty interesting. Naturally, I also saw a lot of shells, though the coolest one was not at the reef area.
There is something about snorkeling though. At least to me. When I first got in the water I was fine, but my heart was racing a bit and my breath came fast, I was waiting to start sinking or inhaling air or for some other catastrophe, but everything was fine. My first thoughts were getting my breath under control. It didn't take long. Then my only other worry really was keeping track of where the boat and my family were, not going too close to the rocks like the instructors said, and not bumping into people. Kind of like driving or for me horseback riding, there are things to be aware of but it's not hard to multitask. I had all that under control soon after I was in the water and I really started enjoying myself. It was really quiet, all I could hear was myself breathing. The other snorkelers were close to me, but still distant somehow, or removed? It was like I was in my own world, just with my thoughts and the amazing sights around me. I am very, very excited to snorkel again, it is truly a remarkable feeling.
They pulled us all back in the boat to go and look for the dolphins. Now everyone on the boat was talking animatedly, to their friends and to ask questions of the tour guides with us. Many were taking photos. It only took a while that I remember to first spot the dolphins. The ones we saw were called spinner dolphins, because when they jumped above the water they would spin in the air -fast, like a top- before splashing back down. These were a smaller species that traveled in large groups. I think we stopped twice to look for them while snorkeling before we found a place they decided to stay and rest. The guides said the dolphins would be out at night looking for food and would come find a place not far from the coast to rest and regroup (and play) during the day. They traveled in large pods, from fifty to a hundred or more. I'm pretty sure the group we saw had less than a hundred, but there were a lot. One did come pretty close to me, maybe five yards away. It didn't linger like the fish did. There was also a baby, a calf, that was swimming with the group, I saw it leap once. It looked to be as long as my arm, not a big animal at all. It was near the dolphins I saw the coolest shell, a large white cone on the sea floor, all by itself. Good luck, critter.
The second most memorable thing I did on Oahu was participating in a surfing lesson. My brother and I both went. I was really scared about it but I definitely wanted the experience. They took us walking from their business shop to an area on Waikiki where we could go. They said the waves were small there. I knew they were, but to me they looked huge. The surfboards were big too. They didn't tell us much, the lesson was more about getting out there and trying it. So off we went. Colin and I both had one guy/instructor that would stay with both of us, there was someone else with a camera, and one more just in case I suppose. I couldn't look at the waves, they made me nervous. For most of the time I had a death grip on that board and the only times I stopped touching it were when I fell off. That happened a couple times. I knew it was a part of surfing, especially for beginners. That didn't make it fun, the falling part. My instructor said I did really well in that I didn't get scraped on rocks. I'll take his word for it. I could never stand up all the way, the times I went. They didn't explain to us how to stop. I guess it depends on whether you fall off or whether the wave just stops and you stop with it. I prefer horses that listen to the word.
It wasn't all bad. I think I will try again sometime. As long as I go with someone who knows what they're doing by themselves and with a beginner along. The last wave I went on I stayed on my knees and I didn't fall. The time, therefore, ended on a good note. I do like being in the ocean. I just didn't know enough to feel in control of the situation while surfing, I might someday be more comfortable with it. Colin, I saw, did very well. He stood up a lot, I'm glad we went together. It makes a good story and I look back on the experience with a smile.
After two weeks on Oahu we went to Molokai. Mark, Colin and I were booked on a plane together, mom was scheduled to follow a day later. I have not been on such a small plane before. It was a Cessna Caravan 200 something, 208 maybe. Colin and I were the smallest passengers, we sat next to each other one one seat (it had two seat belts and two head rests) right behind the pilots. I chose the window seat and had Colin sit in the middle. I was more interested in looking out the side window and the ocean and the islands, he was more interested in looking between the pilot's seats at all their controls. It worked out for both of us. The plane flew a bit rickety, enough that is normal I think for a plane like that. Nobody got sick and we all landed safely.
Once landed, Mark went to find our rental car. It was a Dodge Durango and about the size of the plane we had just exited. It worked for us, though I can't imagine why a rental place on Molokai would need a car that big. Molokai only has a population of about 7,000 see, and no hotels and not many restaurants. There weren't many city like attractions. In other words, I loved it. It was pretty much untouched country, way, way less trash and development than in Honolulu. I had the same amount of fun in both places, just in different ways. I do prefer nature to urban areas.
Molokai was a week of relaxation. We went to some beaches that were close, others we had to drive to. Our condo area had a nearby pool that had recently been fixed up. One day we took an awesome drive, the road was curvy and had only two lanes. We got to see some cliffs and cool rock formations, forests, tiny cute churches and other buildings, and it ended at a beach. The air smelled like plants. I don't know how to describe it. It was clean smelling and tropical and amazing.
Our condo was very nice. I did most of the cooking that week, I enjoyed it. The area used to be a golf course, but that went defunct a couple years back. There was a hotel there too. The golf course area was more overgrown now with taller grasses but there were still some paths. The hotel room buildings were there, but empty. Some had ajar doors that would sway in the breeze. Fences were rusty and falling apart. It looked deserted like a good place for a scary movie. There was a restaurant building by the pool, a very nice one. But it was abandoned too, with dirt that people had written in all over the large windows (I put my initials too...the only time I have ever left a trace that way). Inside I could see tables left and one "please wait to be seated" sign. It was kind of sad. They said that used to be one of the nicest restaurants in the islands, back in the 70s. Still it wasn't a bad place to stay.
Toads came out at night, they were fun to watch. We had one day with a large rainstorm, we stayed in and read. We met people in the condo near ours from Alaska. They had a boy about Colin's age and the two played together a lot. One of the ladies in that family was very nice. She was the owner of the condo and visited often. She had an extensive book collection and let me take some paperbacks. One is by Robert Ludlum and I am very into it.
The week passed quickly. When we arrived at the airport they said our plane had been cancelled. We could get on another one but it didn't leave for hours. The airport was very small, with not a lot to do. We managed, but were glad to get on the plane and head home.
Now I am back at HSU starting my fifth semester here. I think it will be fun (and yes, I am already learning a lot). Most of my homework so far has involved reading. I should really get back to it now. I promise I will write more soon!
Mahalo
Juls
By far my favorite part of my vacation was the snorkeling trip Colin, Mark and I went on. The name of the adventure was Dolphin Excursions and they didn't disappoint. We were lucky that morning with sunny clear skies even though I remember there being some wind. This was on Oahu still, but I don't remember the name of the area we were in. I was a little bit nervous, it had been a long time since I had done any snorkeling. It was also pretty early in the morning so the whole group was slightly subdued. Excited, but quiet.
First we stopped to have everyone explore, check their equipment, and get used to snorkeling before we saw any dolphins. The first place we stopped was near this small coral reef. I did see lots of fish that I don't remember the name of, and some that I do including convict tangs, and the reef triggerfish or humuhumunukunukuapua'a (I like that word). One fish was one of the oddest fish I've seen, it was long and white and wiggled as it swam like a jiggling noodle. He seemed curious about me, he stayed floating close to me for a while. I didn't move either, I just watched him for a while. He was maybe a yard away...although after a while I did turn my head to look at something else and when I looked back he was gone. The tour guide said he was a cornet fish. I read about them later online, they are pretty interesting. Naturally, I also saw a lot of shells, though the coolest one was not at the reef area.
There is something about snorkeling though. At least to me. When I first got in the water I was fine, but my heart was racing a bit and my breath came fast, I was waiting to start sinking or inhaling air or for some other catastrophe, but everything was fine. My first thoughts were getting my breath under control. It didn't take long. Then my only other worry really was keeping track of where the boat and my family were, not going too close to the rocks like the instructors said, and not bumping into people. Kind of like driving or for me horseback riding, there are things to be aware of but it's not hard to multitask. I had all that under control soon after I was in the water and I really started enjoying myself. It was really quiet, all I could hear was myself breathing. The other snorkelers were close to me, but still distant somehow, or removed? It was like I was in my own world, just with my thoughts and the amazing sights around me. I am very, very excited to snorkel again, it is truly a remarkable feeling.
They pulled us all back in the boat to go and look for the dolphins. Now everyone on the boat was talking animatedly, to their friends and to ask questions of the tour guides with us. Many were taking photos. It only took a while that I remember to first spot the dolphins. The ones we saw were called spinner dolphins, because when they jumped above the water they would spin in the air -fast, like a top- before splashing back down. These were a smaller species that traveled in large groups. I think we stopped twice to look for them while snorkeling before we found a place they decided to stay and rest. The guides said the dolphins would be out at night looking for food and would come find a place not far from the coast to rest and regroup (and play) during the day. They traveled in large pods, from fifty to a hundred or more. I'm pretty sure the group we saw had less than a hundred, but there were a lot. One did come pretty close to me, maybe five yards away. It didn't linger like the fish did. There was also a baby, a calf, that was swimming with the group, I saw it leap once. It looked to be as long as my arm, not a big animal at all. It was near the dolphins I saw the coolest shell, a large white cone on the sea floor, all by itself. Good luck, critter.
The second most memorable thing I did on Oahu was participating in a surfing lesson. My brother and I both went. I was really scared about it but I definitely wanted the experience. They took us walking from their business shop to an area on Waikiki where we could go. They said the waves were small there. I knew they were, but to me they looked huge. The surfboards were big too. They didn't tell us much, the lesson was more about getting out there and trying it. So off we went. Colin and I both had one guy/instructor that would stay with both of us, there was someone else with a camera, and one more just in case I suppose. I couldn't look at the waves, they made me nervous. For most of the time I had a death grip on that board and the only times I stopped touching it were when I fell off. That happened a couple times. I knew it was a part of surfing, especially for beginners. That didn't make it fun, the falling part. My instructor said I did really well in that I didn't get scraped on rocks. I'll take his word for it. I could never stand up all the way, the times I went. They didn't explain to us how to stop. I guess it depends on whether you fall off or whether the wave just stops and you stop with it. I prefer horses that listen to the word.
It wasn't all bad. I think I will try again sometime. As long as I go with someone who knows what they're doing by themselves and with a beginner along. The last wave I went on I stayed on my knees and I didn't fall. The time, therefore, ended on a good note. I do like being in the ocean. I just didn't know enough to feel in control of the situation while surfing, I might someday be more comfortable with it. Colin, I saw, did very well. He stood up a lot, I'm glad we went together. It makes a good story and I look back on the experience with a smile.
After two weeks on Oahu we went to Molokai. Mark, Colin and I were booked on a plane together, mom was scheduled to follow a day later. I have not been on such a small plane before. It was a Cessna Caravan 200 something, 208 maybe. Colin and I were the smallest passengers, we sat next to each other one one seat (it had two seat belts and two head rests) right behind the pilots. I chose the window seat and had Colin sit in the middle. I was more interested in looking out the side window and the ocean and the islands, he was more interested in looking between the pilot's seats at all their controls. It worked out for both of us. The plane flew a bit rickety, enough that is normal I think for a plane like that. Nobody got sick and we all landed safely.
Once landed, Mark went to find our rental car. It was a Dodge Durango and about the size of the plane we had just exited. It worked for us, though I can't imagine why a rental place on Molokai would need a car that big. Molokai only has a population of about 7,000 see, and no hotels and not many restaurants. There weren't many city like attractions. In other words, I loved it. It was pretty much untouched country, way, way less trash and development than in Honolulu. I had the same amount of fun in both places, just in different ways. I do prefer nature to urban areas.
Molokai was a week of relaxation. We went to some beaches that were close, others we had to drive to. Our condo area had a nearby pool that had recently been fixed up. One day we took an awesome drive, the road was curvy and had only two lanes. We got to see some cliffs and cool rock formations, forests, tiny cute churches and other buildings, and it ended at a beach. The air smelled like plants. I don't know how to describe it. It was clean smelling and tropical and amazing.
Our condo was very nice. I did most of the cooking that week, I enjoyed it. The area used to be a golf course, but that went defunct a couple years back. There was a hotel there too. The golf course area was more overgrown now with taller grasses but there were still some paths. The hotel room buildings were there, but empty. Some had ajar doors that would sway in the breeze. Fences were rusty and falling apart. It looked deserted like a good place for a scary movie. There was a restaurant building by the pool, a very nice one. But it was abandoned too, with dirt that people had written in all over the large windows (I put my initials too...the only time I have ever left a trace that way). Inside I could see tables left and one "please wait to be seated" sign. It was kind of sad. They said that used to be one of the nicest restaurants in the islands, back in the 70s. Still it wasn't a bad place to stay.
Toads came out at night, they were fun to watch. We had one day with a large rainstorm, we stayed in and read. We met people in the condo near ours from Alaska. They had a boy about Colin's age and the two played together a lot. One of the ladies in that family was very nice. She was the owner of the condo and visited often. She had an extensive book collection and let me take some paperbacks. One is by Robert Ludlum and I am very into it.
The week passed quickly. When we arrived at the airport they said our plane had been cancelled. We could get on another one but it didn't leave for hours. The airport was very small, with not a lot to do. We managed, but were glad to get on the plane and head home.
Now I am back at HSU starting my fifth semester here. I think it will be fun (and yes, I am already learning a lot). Most of my homework so far has involved reading. I should really get back to it now. I promise I will write more soon!
Mahalo
Juls
Sunday, December 2, 2012
the music and the rain
Last night I slept warmly enough. My window was open to welcome the sound of the rain I had just gone walking in. My tea steeped gently beside me, and reminded me home. It was a pleasant walk I had. I do not mind the wet, I love the feeling of the water landing on me. Also I am a little vain, if only for myself, so I appreciated my appearance also.
My route was familiar as last year both as a result of my plans and whims I explored campus often. I headed last night toward a tree I favor near the football field with plans of passing the Kinesiology building where the swimming pool. Naturally, so late at night, the lights were off in the building but I can remember how pretty that room is when the lights reflect on the water.
I do not recall, nor exactly do I wish to, my thoughts as I walked up the hill. It was a peaceful time despite the downpour and the wind. Occasionally I paused to swipe with my foot away the leaves and debris that rested on and blocked the storm drains. Habit? Impulse? I am not sure. Eventually though while still enamored with the sounds and feel of the raindrops and the wind, I crested the hill and looked down onto the -almost- deserted Redwood Bowl.
As I paused there I heard a sound, like a flute. I was sure I had imagined it though. I grew distracted a moment by the road that led toward the forest, it beckoned to me strongly, though I could not see the trees (despite their size) in the dark. I could feel it, pulling at my heart to enter it. I resisted with difficulty, remembering my promise to my mother not to enter the woods in during the storms. I'll not regret that decision for what happened instead made up for it tenfold.
I resumed my earlier quest with my intentions of reaching my tree. Descending the steps between the metal gate separating the athletic area of campus, I heard the flute call again. In that instant I wanted to run towards the sound, to know if it was real. I hesitated though, but I had my fingers crossed in my wet pockets that I would hear it again. It was all I could think.
I walked slower. I didn't listen harder per se, but I found myself more aware of my surroundings. Right as I was a yard away from the slightly ostentatious lumberjack sign, I heard it again. The flute! This time it was more than just a note calling but almost a tune. I could not see where it was coming from but my feet directed me towards the sound. First I walked along the runner's track that I tell myself I ought to utilize weekly but never manage to, I could make out the tone of the flute and I was confident in my scant musical abilities that I was sure I was not missing any notes in the song.
I had to walk toward it. My rational mind knew there was someone playing somewhere nearby, but there was something so ethereal of the situation. It felt like a movie, like a book, like a dream. Not quite like real life. There was no one else around but myself and the still unseen musician.
I detoured to the water clogged "grass" of the football field in the direction of the football field. Through the rain near the middle of the field I could make out a shadowy figure sitting high up in the sheltered bleachers. Yes, someone of course was there and practicing their instrument.
I was only glad to have discovered this, I decided to leave him in peace and go towards my favorite tree. But it felt like I shared a secret now with this player, a moment that only we might know about. As I reached my tree and leaned against it, I listened to the song being played. He really was talented. I have no idea what type of flute he might have been playing. I wonder what caused him to play alone, in that place and that time. I grew wetter though as the rain steadily and with regret had to resume my walk.
I passed the stands, enjoying still the rain and the wind, hoping to show my presence to the musician in case he would rather have remained private. I was grateful when he didn't. Up the stairs I went, farther from the lone player than the other steps. It was not until I passed him I knew that he was indeed a him.
I wanted to tell him I appreciated his sounds but my instinct not to interrupt was stronger. I continued up the stairs and on my way and he continued to play. A car passed in front of me on the street behind Founders Hall, my favorite building on campus and obviously their windows (on the car, not the building) were sealed against the water (the building had closed windows also, but I am referring solely to the car in this instance). I find that driver to be a bit unlukcy. They would have known not what they were missing, as the now more remote and distant sounds of the flute continued behind me. There was no way they could have heard what I had, felt what I felt. Perhaps I was the only one. My goal here is not to brag but only to share.
That whole experience was remarkable. Part of me is still there, still listening to that simple, perfect flute music. Whoever the player may be, I hope he continues to play that way in secluded, calm areas. I also hope he is heard again as I heard him, by someone who will appreciate even more than I his music. A moment like that, I know must be rare. It deserves to be treasured and remembered. It was, quite simply, perfect for mind, soul and imagination.
(please note, anyone concerned with the storms we had over the weekend here in Arcata, that the worst of the weather happened at night, not during the day, and that nothing is wrong on campus.)
My route was familiar as last year both as a result of my plans and whims I explored campus often. I headed last night toward a tree I favor near the football field with plans of passing the Kinesiology building where the swimming pool. Naturally, so late at night, the lights were off in the building but I can remember how pretty that room is when the lights reflect on the water.
I do not recall, nor exactly do I wish to, my thoughts as I walked up the hill. It was a peaceful time despite the downpour and the wind. Occasionally I paused to swipe with my foot away the leaves and debris that rested on and blocked the storm drains. Habit? Impulse? I am not sure. Eventually though while still enamored with the sounds and feel of the raindrops and the wind, I crested the hill and looked down onto the -almost- deserted Redwood Bowl.
As I paused there I heard a sound, like a flute. I was sure I had imagined it though. I grew distracted a moment by the road that led toward the forest, it beckoned to me strongly, though I could not see the trees (despite their size) in the dark. I could feel it, pulling at my heart to enter it. I resisted with difficulty, remembering my promise to my mother not to enter the woods in during the storms. I'll not regret that decision for what happened instead made up for it tenfold.
I resumed my earlier quest with my intentions of reaching my tree. Descending the steps between the metal gate separating the athletic area of campus, I heard the flute call again. In that instant I wanted to run towards the sound, to know if it was real. I hesitated though, but I had my fingers crossed in my wet pockets that I would hear it again. It was all I could think.
I walked slower. I didn't listen harder per se, but I found myself more aware of my surroundings. Right as I was a yard away from the slightly ostentatious lumberjack sign, I heard it again. The flute! This time it was more than just a note calling but almost a tune. I could not see where it was coming from but my feet directed me towards the sound. First I walked along the runner's track that I tell myself I ought to utilize weekly but never manage to, I could make out the tone of the flute and I was confident in my scant musical abilities that I was sure I was not missing any notes in the song.
I had to walk toward it. My rational mind knew there was someone playing somewhere nearby, but there was something so ethereal of the situation. It felt like a movie, like a book, like a dream. Not quite like real life. There was no one else around but myself and the still unseen musician.
I detoured to the water clogged "grass" of the football field in the direction of the football field. Through the rain near the middle of the field I could make out a shadowy figure sitting high up in the sheltered bleachers. Yes, someone of course was there and practicing their instrument.
I was only glad to have discovered this, I decided to leave him in peace and go towards my favorite tree. But it felt like I shared a secret now with this player, a moment that only we might know about. As I reached my tree and leaned against it, I listened to the song being played. He really was talented. I have no idea what type of flute he might have been playing. I wonder what caused him to play alone, in that place and that time. I grew wetter though as the rain steadily and with regret had to resume my walk.
I passed the stands, enjoying still the rain and the wind, hoping to show my presence to the musician in case he would rather have remained private. I was grateful when he didn't. Up the stairs I went, farther from the lone player than the other steps. It was not until I passed him I knew that he was indeed a him.
I wanted to tell him I appreciated his sounds but my instinct not to interrupt was stronger. I continued up the stairs and on my way and he continued to play. A car passed in front of me on the street behind Founders Hall, my favorite building on campus and obviously their windows (on the car, not the building) were sealed against the water (the building had closed windows also, but I am referring solely to the car in this instance). I find that driver to be a bit unlukcy. They would have known not what they were missing, as the now more remote and distant sounds of the flute continued behind me. There was no way they could have heard what I had, felt what I felt. Perhaps I was the only one. My goal here is not to brag but only to share.
That whole experience was remarkable. Part of me is still there, still listening to that simple, perfect flute music. Whoever the player may be, I hope he continues to play that way in secluded, calm areas. I also hope he is heard again as I heard him, by someone who will appreciate even more than I his music. A moment like that, I know must be rare. It deserves to be treasured and remembered. It was, quite simply, perfect for mind, soul and imagination.
(please note, anyone concerned with the storms we had over the weekend here in Arcata, that the worst of the weather happened at night, not during the day, and that nothing is wrong on campus.)
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