An Intro to Seracs, Where the Ice is Milky Blue

Back in college, when snow dumped in Bellingham we would stealthily conceal dining hall trays under our big winter coats and sneaky-like, tip-toe them out. If you haven’t tried it yet, a plastic lunch tray makes a fantastic sled for flying fast down any slope, gradual or steep. The steeper the better of course. Something about that rigid polycarbonate surface made even the lightest wisp of a college coed fly!


Wearing plastic mountaineering boots for the first time had a very similar feeling, though I didn’t quite get that same sledding-induced thrill as I carefully negotiated my way across slippery river rocks and high flowing water. My body isn’t quite so quick to heal after minor impacts with rocks, trees, and other people like it was when I was a gumby-like 19year old.

Our trip out to the Coleman Glacier with Jason Wheeler was also my first trip in crampons, first time wielding an ice ax, and first time scaling a wall on an icy serac. Can’t say I’ve scaled a wall of ice before, serac or otherwise. I would’ve found a way to go around.

I’m a rock climber and a skier. I’ve snowshoed plenty, scrambled a lot. I’m no badass Lynn Hill or Ingrid Backstrom, but I feel comfortable doing most outdoor activities and felt all these experiences would give me a bit of a leg up on learning to ice climb. This day, however, was a serious ego check. And despite Jason’s incredibly patient and thorough instruction, I spent the day re-learning how to use my body despite any experience I may have. Crampons are not nearly as intuitive as I expected – I still don’t get how to tork my ankles when traversing a slope (it’s seriously unnatural). My rock experience didn’t help me grasp moving on ice and I pumped out almost instantly. I am awed by Jason and his brethren of ice, who climb not only smooth, straight, uncomplicated ice, but anything mixed – how does the brain and body compute that into upward motion?



ChitChitTHWOP! Towards the end of the afternoon, despite tired, overgripping arms, I seemed to be consistently finding purchase in the ice with my tools. My saving grace being a bit of upper body strength (I once won an entirely inconsequential pull-up contest, dontcha know). “Perhaps I’m actually getting this,” I thought as I sipped my rum n’tea for a bit of pre-descent warmth. Standing a little straighter, nose-over-toes, stepping a little more confidently, less tension in my arms gripping the ax, I began to feel like maybe this plastic-crampon-ax-mountain-glacier thing really wasn’t all that hard.

The end of the day neared, light softened on the ridge tops and crampons came off as we exited the glacier, hitting the trail back to the easy comfort of a car seat. A day on the ice in crampons seemed to make the hike out in only plastics feel easy. Easy! I continued these confident, new thoughts…”someday I could be good at this. And maybe, I’ll start climbing big water ice! And go to places like Banff! And Canmore! And..” PHWOOOP! An instant later, feet flying above my head, butt very solidly smacking into the dirt, and my ego bruised a little worse, daydreams of Canadian ice melted as fast as a popsicle in a heatwave in hawaii. My friends might have had good advice when they recommended practicing in boots and crampons in my backyard before hitting a glacier. This is not nearly as easy as stealing dining hall trays.

Me, attempting to stem across and find purchase in the ice. Heels down!

The long hike out, just beginning. Thank goodness for dairy milk and pepperoni sticks!

how do i slow thee?

i brought a significant amount of work home this weekend. not that i should be working on the weekends- i try hard to separate work and life- but sometimes sanity demands it and this is gonna be one of those weeks. but despite what i know i need to do...distractions appear aplenty...1. clean dog. 2. eat pumpkin pie with roommate and update on each others weekends events. 3. take down light fixture in bedroom and clean it. 4. shuffle paperwork that needs attention. 5. pause to ruminate on bono's amazing voice. try to be so present with bono's voice that maybe i'll get lucky enough for him to appear in my dreams tonight. 6. clean fingernails from a weekend of attempting to build fires, filling hot tubs, and tossing rocks into a river.... 7. curse computer for its microscopic memory and inability to run 2 programs at once. 8. have an internal debate about dating in ones 20's vs 30's and if it really has gotten any better or if im just trying to make myself feel less like brigit jones. 9. try to figure out how to uncheck whatever button i checked that flags my own blog for objectional content. dont think doughnuts are that sketchy. whoops. 10. wonder how its already after 10 and my work to-do list is still as long...see how easy this is? see.too bad work cant do itself sometimes...

In Search of Frosting

A recent trip to Portland sent me on a quest for cake and frosting and a little voodoo magic.

Goodness. Gracious.

Happiness is frosted dough

South bound

Leavin on a midnight train to georgia...or a morning train to portland.

Air is My Cushion

(aaron and the giant fishhook,
what can we catch in that cave?)

I'm not a fan of heights. They often terrify me. Which is the exact reason why I decided to start rock climbing. "What a silly fear," I thought. "Why dont I self-propel myself to high, exposed places where, without proper gear and skills, I could fall and most likely die!"


So here I am, 6-ish years down the road, having given hours, $$, skin on my hands and knees, etc. to conquer this fear. I do, actually, love climbing purely for the feel of the rock and the route and of my body as I finds my way up these routes. And, for the payoff of unbelievable views at the top. But, I haven't gotten over the fear yet, not entirely.

(my legs look oddly tiny...must
be my mega climbing guns! ha!)

But, I did win a mini-battle on Sunday, out at Index after 10 months off. Toxic Shock out at Index. We warmed up on Great Northern Slab - a comfy 5.6. I got to follow the whole way thanks to my super duper climbing partner, Aaron and was feeling confident. It was a beautiful fall day, I had the best company, and it felt so good to be back out there. Leaving the crowds of the slab behind, we hiked up to Toxic Shock, a great 5.9 crack. Aaron gave the lead to me and after some good encouragement, I decided to give it a go.

(just before the fall,
happy heads have helmets!)

I have never fallen on lead. I avoid it, hold on for dear life, over-grip, scream, swear, and grunt, anything to avoid falling. 


But Sunday was different. I fought, pushed my wimpy, out-of-shape arms to the max, and fell. Twice. On gear! And it held!!! I even hooked my foot in the rope and flipped upside down on fall 2. (thanks, helmet!). I've got a bit of rope burn and scrapes and if i sit to one side, the big bruise on my right buttcheek hurts. But, I fell! And I was fine! (Thanks, especially, to my great climbing partner for the belay). And, I actually want to go do it again.
So, take that, Fear!


Lets go do it again!

crickets make a good back up band

3:32 in the a.m.

the full moon illuminates SR20 so well i hardly need brights. and the stars are magnified out here in the middle of nowhere doing their part to light the world. the rolling hills that run alongside the highway gleam at their tops, just a bit.

its late. very, very late by my standards. and my coffee from the jear jammer truck stop is getting cold. but i'm feeling like it could keep driving for hours! the key to this craziness???

heart

blaring. loud. but i sing louder. take that ann and nancy.

a quick stop for a full-moon photo opp and i realize the crickets are singing to heart at the top of their lungs too. 

i love feeling at one with nature. 

dreaming from dungeonous depths of a ferry boat

The rule makers at the Washington State Ferries clearly haven't met Maile. If they had, perhaps they wouldn't have such stingy rules when it comes to furry buddies on ferry boats. Alas, Maile's sparkling personality couldn't sway andthe cool breeze from the "dog area" on the car deck.

I suppose its really wasn't that bad.Though we shared a space with their "spill kit"(?yikes?) and their mop bucket, we did have front row views from our corner, fantastic port holes for M to peek out of (thanks for the pic, Jen), and the intrigued stares from fellow passengers thinking I was a nutzo talking to myself, when really I was simply talking to my dog (much less crazy). I was feeling quite special in my corner.

I was digging my hands into the pockets of my down vest with my shaking, terrified dog on my lap(she's not a fan of ferry boats any more than they are of her), and then....

...Then! I saw it. The most beautiful, perfect boat (disclaimer: i dont really know it was perfect. my boat expertise is minimal - my only recent experience on a sail boat was sliding back and forth from one side to the other as the "weight girl" during a beer can race in the bay area a few years ago which left me drenched. for all i know the perfect boat could've had a hole in the bottom and was flying to shore to escape sinking. it sure looked perfect). Two wooden masts, four billowing sails, leaning just-so with the wind and FLYING through the saltwater.

I couldn't see the people on board, but I can only imagine the smiles plastered on their faces from the thrill of speed, the gorgeous blue sky day, and clear, open water dotted with beautiful islands to explore. My overactive imagination put me on that boat, in white boat shoes with a red striped shirt and one of those gilligan's island hats, of course, simultaneously pulling rigging and sipping great wine and good PBR while laughing at the side-splitting conversation and jokes of my fellow sun-tanned boaters. Since this is my little dream, lets make the men shirtless too. Why not? :)

I settled into my seat next to the spill kit with my little day dream and added one more thing to my long list of things to do, eventually. Anyone want to take up sailing lessons with me?

A little tardy but never really late, just like a chicken bus

Remember that feeling...? You knew it so well once upon a time. On the way home from 3rd grade, with summer vacation just a day away, those vinyl seats heated up on the slow trip while you compared your Garbage Pail Kids cards with your best friend. As you stood up to get off at your stop, the skin on the backs of your legs stuck to that sticky hot vinyl that seemed to sweat itself.

I almost forgot that feeling. And the way it felt to push the buttons towards one another on

 those ridiculously difficult-to-maneuver windows to get a little airflow. Sitting on the chicken bus heading out of Granada, I am definitely feeling vinyl seat sweaty sticky legs, and also a little like a clueless and awkward 3rd grader (perhaps i discovered the fountain of youth too). As a (mostly) functioning adult I should be able to easily make sure I get from point A to point B and back again. But this is difficult to do when the language spoken is beautiful to my ears but doesnt translate through my thick, English-speaking head. Other than a few basic phrases. Such a doce. (hey, its simple but at least I know how much to pay for my fare, roughly 10cents in US dollars. Take note, Light Rail.) And muchas gracias (I say that a lot. Since I understand the phrase,  like to use it as much as possible). 

Thankfully, that morning I was going to the end of the line and didnt have to figure out all that much on the bumbling ride to Masaya. We arrived at a dusty, enormous parking lot and without too much trouble, I made my way through the hectic public market where everyone wanted to sell me everything, to the artisans market (aka, tourist market) for the last of my souvenir shopping. 

Now on the bus again, after a long day of picking out hammocks and vases, I'm mesmerized by the hummingly frenetic, calming chaos of the market that floats through the window... the harsh smells of raw chicken and fresh cheese that have been sitting out on a table in the sun all day mix with the aroma of fresh baked breads and pasteries, and nose-tingly exhaust and sweat. Men and women call to the passersby with their great deals on sparkly plastic sandals, avocados nearly the size of my head, and rice and beans that overflow from gigantic bags. Women with baskets on top of their heads filled with baggies of some sort of pink juice negotiate the crowds and weave through men with trolleys carting all sorts of goods for sale back and forth. Somehow all of this chaos works. 

Hard working women wearing frilly, dainty aprons that are the market sellers standard, come through the front door of the bus, baskets on heads to sell their juice baggies and candy and breads jumping out the escape exit at the back after they've sold all they can. The bus slowly, slowly fills as we wait for departure. I am filled with happiness over all the crazy hubbub (maybe it was the nica libre at lunch). I'm also sad that I'm leaving all of this to go home tomorrow.

Memories from the trip run like a movie through my head and mix with the scenes of the market as I look out my window, until...

Suddenly, I'm distracted by the man in the seat across the aisle from me getting up with a loud rustle. As I turn towards him, I notice his red, plastic grocery sack. It has a chicken in it. The head coming out one end, and the fluffy tail out the other. A live chicken! In a plastic bag! On the bus! It turns it's head and stares it's beady chicken eyes at me. Surely it didn't know its upcoming fate; it actually looked quite content being in that red grocery sack.

The man and chicken exit the bus just as the driver turns it on with a phffwump of exhaust out the back. As we bumble through the dirt parking lot on my last chicken bus ride, my heart feels a little heavy over leaving Nica. Until I realize I've picked the wrong side of bus. I stick like glue to my seat, with the afternoon sun blazing through my window. 

Use your imagination....

Hola,

Still no camera (sorry, sorry... i´ll quit bringing it up starting...now.) Since i have no visual aids for today, i´ll try to paint you a little picture... I arrived back In Granada today after a gorgeous, but slightly nauseating sailboat ride from Ometepe to San Jorge/Rivas (the waves in Lake Cocibolca where the bull shark lives are quite big, for a lake), followed by a sweaty, jammed chicken bus with my pack tied to the top along with crates of empty soda bottles, a kitchen hutch, and bags of beans or rice among all sorts of other stuff. My new canadian friend, Irish Dave, kept me company and we had a coca-cola and some chickys (¨chocolate bisquits¨) in the bustling but tiny Rivas market before hopping on board for the 1.5hr trip. The countryside looks much better from a seat than it did when i was smashed, standing in the back on the way to Ometepe.

This afternoon, as the temperature finally dropped slowly by a couple degrees, i stopped to sit on the veranda of posh Hotel Plaza Colon in Granada. This! felt like how a vacation is supposed to feel. People walking and biking by, horse drawn carriages waiting for riders, people selling goods and going about their day. For the same reasons I like the pike place market, I like to watch the Parque Central; it hums with energy. Trees pop up all over to provide cool'ish shade above benches and homes for twittering birds and octagonal cobblestones circle a beautiful gazebo in the center where ¨Take My Breath Away¨ blares from the speakers of someone with a stereo sitting on the steps. Across the park -past the carriages that line the west side, past food and jewelry carts, past benches where young, old, and inbetween sit, past the kids hawking pirated dvds, cashews, and gourd pots - is the *bright!* yellow cathdral. Gorgeous, spanish-colonial architecture, built after William Walker torched the city in 1855-ish, it is THE landmark of town from which all directions are given.

This is definitely not the place for the average local, or at least i assume, unless they are here to sell goods to bumbling tourists like myself. There is buzzing energy here, despite the heat at 4pm. I could sit, drinking my nica libre with flor de cannas rum and watch for hours.

A few pictures from yesterday... the horses along Playa Santo Domingo on the ride to Ojo de Agua.
Vulcan Concepcion. This is the live one. Either clouds or a little plume of gas was usually visible out the top each day. I thought, originally, i'd try to climb both but once i realized how steep and nasty it was at the top (very slick shale from what i could tell), plus being in vacation mode, i kicked that idea to the curb and hiked just the "easy" one.
The road. Quality. This was a good patch. People on scooters, in vans, riding horses, on bikes... every mode of transport shared the road.
The trusty raleigh i borrowed from the hostel....No shocks and shoddy breaks but it got me there.
From teh dock of Hacienda Merida. A lovely little spot, was once a hacienda for the old regime before they were toppled. Fell into ruin for a bit, until, lucky for us travelers, it was purchased and fixed up into a travelers spot. Their sister city, oddly enough, is Bainbridge island. Go figure.

Sometimes, things so missing

And that is exactly what has happened to my camera. Donde esta yo camera? My kind hostel keeper has put up a sign requesting, if it (..side note...some how, these nicaraguan keyboards have stolen my words and replaced them with weird characters. not sure what happened but i'll have to attempt to piece together the stories i told before. so here goes:).."is returned that a reward will be given and many thanks too. So far no one has turned anything in. My kind, and fun roommate Fregke (he is Dutch and i dont have a clue how to spell his name, but it rhymes with wreck)" (sp) lent me his camera today for short bit so i was able to take a few, as well as snag a few from the ferry where i met him and his buddy Jaret. I am on the li´l island of Ometepe, in the bustling town of Merida. It is a bustling town because chickens, pigs, horses, people on bikes, people in trucks, and on horses and on foot, seem to be continually going by. Not to give you the wrong impression - its really very rural out here. but, seems like there is a lot of activity.

Yesterday, i made the trek from Granada to Rivas via bus, then a taxi to San Jorge for a ferry to Moyogalpa, Ometepe to catch a taxi to Merida. Here i am. The chicken bus was kind of like being on toads wild ride at disneyland, if you´ve been there.

With my big pack on i bumbled through the Granada market, so many things to look at!, and made my way towards the bus. So many things for sale and they all looked so good - bags of beans, and piles of pineapple. As i neared the bus stop, a kid came up to me asking, ¨Rivas?!, Rivas?!¨ And after my stuttered ¨si!¨ he pointed me towards a bus and i was shoved on. Not so bad, it seemed, since i got a seat next to a quiet guy. We bumped along for a half hour or so until all of a sudden a bunch of guys were yelling, Rivas!¨, ¨Rivas!¨, then proceeded to pick up my pack, walk to the back of the yellow school bus painted red, and then threw my bag out. So i followed my pack. On the side of the highway, with a few other people, i confusedly asked on guy, ¨Rivas?¨ (my side of conversations usually consist of a single word, in question form). He said he didnt know - an english speaker! - but soon another bus pulled up, my pack was grabbed, and i followed it to the back of the bus, where i was smooshed on with enough other people to comfortably fit at least 2 school buses. Now my chicken bus experience was really starting.

From there, the taxi from Rivas to San Jorge, then the ferry to Ometepe (it looked more like a 3 story tug boat, where, even on the 3rd deck we got wet from waves), and the taxi along mostly unpaved roads for 2 hrs to Merida. Which leads me to the sad story of my camera. I was sitting in a hammock, looking at my pics from the day. Got to talking to a few locals, forgetting my camera was in my lap. got up for some agua and the camera? donde esta? i dont know... fingers crossed for its return..

Today, i took a solemn, cameraless bike ride up the road (again...weird characters... this is what i think i wrote...) "to a lovely, calm and tranquil place, the Ojo de Agua. These are natural springs that are beleived to have healing properties by the locals. Perhaps they'd heal my poor camera-less induced broken heart. I attempted to study my spanish for a bit by laying in a hammock and reading my travel dictionary. Note: if you ever have trouble sleeping, i recommend laying in a hammock, in 90degree heat and reading a dictionary. Dont know how long i snoozed but it was nice. Woke up to the sounds of others arriving. Apparently, my short-in-distance but long-in-time (approx 7km, at 2hrs) bike ride still got me out for the day before any other tourists. By the time i'd biked, met my friend Maria-Elena (she's 10yrs old, has about 5 sisters and 4 brothers all named either Maria-xxx or Juan-xxx except the youngest boy, Marco-Antionio) , snoozed in a hammock, and studied spanish, the others on the island were just giving their sleepy muscles a good stretch to the sky. Decided to give those cool, healing waters a go and dipped in. Very nice, very refreshing, and very clean. The pool has been kept in a mostly natural state, other than the cement stone wall around it with a couple big steps in. Swam a bit, sat in the sun a bit. Ordered on of the best lunches i'd had for pennies and sipped a nice fresh pineapple juice. Took the long road back after a nice cool soak.

The long road back was really REALLY long. In the hot direct sun of mid-day, i decided to make my way back to merida. Met Fregk (?) and Jaret along the way - they'd mistakenly turned too soon and found themselves on an hour long dirt road detour. A note about the roads: their main road around the island is worse than any fireroad i've riden back home. Huge potholes, loose rocks and boulders everywhere, dusty as a desert, chunks of tire sucking cement... and mad drivers careening past, squeezing between me, the cement chunks and heards of cows. Which on another note, are terrifying to ride through. I envisioned getting bucked over fences by mean, hungry cows. Oye. With a stop at a hostel along the way for another cool drink, i made it back to Hacienda Merida. Still no camera. But a nice long dock with a cool lake to take a swim in.

Sunscreen is good.

I´d recommend wearing a lot more than i did today. I´m a little pink. But it was a great day! I even was able to figure out how to buy a bottle of flor de canas rum! Here´s a little review of the day...this is where i spent the end of my day. my hostel has a pool in the middle of the building -open air style. not bad for $13.

looking down on the street from the la merced bell tower. everyone rides bikes here
the view from the la merced bell tower. the main cathedral is in the distance. my hostel is about to blocks down, and 2 to the right of the bell tower. the pics are a little out of order... and i´m not blog savvy enough to reorder them... the pic above of the crosses is from the granada cemetary. beautiful. they put so much into making their resting places lovely.
on the boat ride around las isletas of granada. vulcan mombacho spewed out a bunch of rock a few thousands of years ago that created this group of 300 islands. we stopped here for a fanta...
my new friend lucy. she lives on monkey island. we had to hide our packs because lucy has an amazing sniffer and would´ve gone straight for anything edible.
we met this fisherman along the way who showed us his catch of the day. beautiful fishies... too bad they´ll be dinner for someone tonight.
our trusty fiberglass boat ' guapotona (its a type of fish).

had a great day today with my guide Ramon who took me everywhere and sacrificed his poor feet to walk all over the place. I got the impression that his clients dont usually walk that far. Off to Ometepe tomorrow to hike a volcano and look for more of Lucy´s relatives.
buenos noches

First impressions...

Every dog looks like maile. But a little less well-fed. Thanks N, J, and B for giving my girl some love while i´m gone.

People drive really fast here, and flash their lights all the time . I cant figure out the logic; sometimes the brights are on, sometimes not, sometimes you give a little flashyflash to the oncoming drivers and sometimes they flash back. Or sometimes they dont. Sometimes you flash the bicyclists or pedestrians who are walking awfully close to where the cars are zooming by. But not always.... I´ll have to figure that one out.

It is hot and humid and it´ll be nice to get out of my 2-day old clothes, but considering that i heard more snow fell in seattle... well, i wish you all could be here. It smells humid too - kinda a cross between the exhale of trees and plants, some sort of sweet sugar cane aroma, burning brush, with a light hint of soggy socks in the air. Not bad though, as a whole.

Didnt see too much yet, since i flew in in the dark, but i did fly by several discos with killer music and lots of dancing. Me gusto baylen. Think i´ll have to take a night to go shake it at the disco.

In case anyone had any doubts, it is a li´l hard to get around if you dont speak spanish. surprise surprise. i feel like an alien on an awesome new planet (i really like it here so far). But people are patient. My driver guy was very good about helping me figure out pronunciation and we were actually able to squeek out a mini conversation. People get personal fast though - he asked my age, where my novio was(?!?!), and did i like rum. I think we´re friends now.

Will post some pics tomorrow. Hasta luego!

Travel Tip Numbero Uno...

Come prepared with your own minibottles....

Arrived at LAX at 10:45... finished my book (great choice on the first one, bookclub!! i'm finally ready to moveon to book 2). Decided it would be a good idea to leave my quiet, Alaska Airlines terminal on my first trip quest: to find the American Airlines terminal. Apparantely, they dont let you in till 4am. And the restaurants (and bars too, damnit!)at the international terminal (and the only terminal open ) all close at 11pm. And duty free doesnt sell mini bottles. Only fifths. Dont know that i really want to start enjoying my vacations THAT much just yet.... :) so here i am, at LAX, wishing i had a tasty beverage and looking for a nice place to nestle in for a few hours nap... (oh, pause!!*** side notee\*** a police officer on a segway just drove by!!!(do you "drive' a segway? or maybe "ride" one?) LAX is very fancy). Isnt this an exciting trip report? And arent youhappy you ae still readin? Second tip of the night - check the keyboard of the cheap "computer" you use before you put your $3 in. mine, is not so rsponsive. Anyhow, thanks for allowing me a few minutes entertainment during my layover.

PS - i'm totally rocking the espanol!! some guys were talking and one asked, "el bano?" and i completely undertood what he was saying. think i'll go stroll the various non-secure parts of the airport that i have access to and listen in on conversations to keep up with my spanish lessons.

Hasta luego. t

How to Plan a Vacation, 101

1. After swearing off big trips for the year, receive a mail solicitation for an air-miles credit card. Realize you have a crapload of miles you didnt know you had. And if you get a credit card, you'll have more!!! Sign up for card. Stimulate the economy.

2. Call the airlines to find out if you can go to destination #1. After finding out you can get there, but wouldn't be able to get back, put destination #1 back on the list of places to go, someday.

3. Pick a book off your shelf for a region you've never been to, but just so happen to have the guide for. Read it. Front to back. (cant help myself, i really like guide books). Make a spreadsheet incl. each country, with things to do, potential diseases, food options, beach options, poisonous insects/reptiles, etc. Pick the country that has the best overall ranking. (again, i realize my spreadsheet put me in the land of dorkville. i'm ok with that)

4. Call the airlines and book a ticket! Yay! After hanging up the phone, realize that you dont speak the language. Oops.


I leave tomorrow for Nicaragua - a place many people have gone before. Really, i cant get that lost. I took a spanish class, (though i maybe should've studied a little more...). I even made a couple reservations! And i have an excellent travel buddy coming for the second half. So I'll be just fine. I promise, Mom.

I'll try to post a few notes and pics along the way. Do you have a good travel tip for me before i head out? I'm taking a calculator, will take pics of my maps on my camera for stealth studying, and will ask women with children for help if i feel unsure (thanks Aaron, Owen and Jenny, and Alyssa for the good ideas). Lemme know i you have any other good ideas. I'll let you know how they work out. Cheers!
T