8/31

Today was difficult. We set off with favorable conditions, and for the first time I was in one of the singles, Tropic Thunder. Learning to be lead boat, staying stable, steering without a rudder were all part of the challenge of today, which was then compounded by adding in the wild open ocean. Walls of water and a big chop, the wind against me all the way--it made for a wild ride. I still have not reached my optimum kayaking endurance level and pushed past my limits and into the land of dogged misery. Ken and Gene traded off babysitting and body guarding duties, which meant I was never unsafe, but not being able to switch out or take a decent break with food, water, sunscreen or stretching equalled one furiously tired and grumpy girl. At the end I ever started to get seasick, which never happens, and hopefully will never happen again. I was so slow paddling but it meant that at the very end, when Ken asked for a go, I could paddle like crazy and ride the breakers in to a perfect first controlled landing. I am glad today is nearly over but I also think it was an important day for me and for the group. Now we are here at 3rd beach, the rollers crash into a curving sand beach, dry skies, a beautiful stream of fresh water, grassy field for tents, rocks rising up out of the sand in shattered formations, and the charry smell of a driftwood fire. Ever cooking tonight was calming and low stress. The boats are safely moored, the tent is up, and I am in good spirits after a calming cup of tea and a chat with the fearless leaders. I tried to bathe in the creek earlier, but Dr. Bronners is as poor at hair cleaning as I remember. There have been some unusual prints in the sand, some sort of large canid? and I wish I could ID it for a bear or wolf or dog. Tomorrow we will move on along this rugged coast. Never did I think that I would ever see the wild shore of the Northwest Coast from both the land and the sea. Life moves in interesting patterns.

7/31

I am hiding in the woods in order to concentrate and also to hide from the sand and gnats and various other distractions. I can hear the crash of the waves at high tide and see the cheerful colors of our circus tarp peaking through the leaves. Gale force winds were predicted for today and and instead we were given calm water, gentle rain, and a favorable current. While I do not mind rain while paddling, it has made for a cold and messy beach camp, with sand everywhere and everyone slightly out of sorts. We switched cook and tent groups today, dispersing us girls into the wider group. I am not perfectly happy but it could be worse. Last night was some stereotypical girl bonding night talk. in honor of the last time we will truly be together. Today, paddling in the rain and mist and fog shrouded peaks just showing and deep cut valleys hidden from us, we paddled swiftly in a pod, followed by harbor seals, watched by lofty eagles, and examined by families of sea otters. We are now on the outer shore, and the ocean swells begin to lift our boats up and set them down gently in the next trough. This is Neptune at his most benign and I relished the travel today. The swells turned to white sprays of plume on the outlying rocks and small islands scattered around us like a child's imaginary world, untouched and sized so to offer endless exploration and still be home to the castle by supper time. Through the rock gardens we picked our way, at times poling through the matted seaweed like a pirouge down the bayou. Tomorrow is even longer than today, and many things are dependant on forces beyond us. The only thing we can do is live in the moment, plan for tomorrow, and accept the obstacles that are thrown in our way as learning exercises.

planning for the future

Seattle Children's Theater
ACT Theater
Alaska Sea Kayaking Rangers
Amazing Grace Tall Ship
America's Test Kitchen
Backroads Trip Leaders
Sierra Club
Nature Conservancy
Girl Scouts
Organic Farms
High Mountain Institute
Cascade Land Conservancy
Naturalists at Large
NOLS
North Cascades Wilderness School
North Cascades Institute
Northwest Service Academy
Alpengirl
Parks and Recreation
Port of Seattle
Schooner Zodiac
Sierra Club
Camp Seymour

Some of the jobs and internships and companies I've been looking at. The one that I feel most suited for, and most excited for, is Logistics Coordinator with Salish Seas, working with sail boats and kids and getting things ready behind the scenes. I'm trying to rewrite my resume for something outside of the theater world, and it is slow going. It seems a daunting task, pointing out all my good points, asking someone to like me. Hope for the best.

6 sticks of butter

1. Lemon Tart with pretty cut out hearts and candied lemon peel
1. Upside-down wine-plum cake (cross your fingers that it works out, still in the process)
4. Peach baby Dutch Babies, not so pretty, so I ate them
2. Couches that I have to carry up and down stairs
Lots. Of things to mail to lots of people

Also, dinner invites to arrange. Packing to finish for St. Louis. Exciting phone calls to wait for. Despite there being lemon juice and a fruit sticker in my hair, for once it is curling under on both sides instead of flipping out like a crazy-person's hair. So that is good too. There is a good breeze for sailing out on the sound today.

away

Listening to world music, lounging in bed, reading the Sunday funnies, getting ready to say my goodbyes. It is the end of the summer, it is the end of the summertime adventures, time to return to real life, check in with friends and family, plan for the southern hemisphere summer, start projects and forward-looking future things, and try to stay busy and happy and full of emails and the occasional phone call.

6/31

I am hungry and waiting for dinner, self-banished from the kitchen for three meals so that my cook group can become more self sufficient in the kitchen. At the moment they are figuring out white rice. Not very successfully from what I hear. Today we stayed at Garden Point in order to improve our stroke skill sets, learn about weather, have environmental show and tell. When I look above me there is a grillwork of branches, lacy cedar leaves, drying paddle jackets, and a corner of the tarp of higher learning. Close by are the calm voices of the instructors and the campfire glows and crackles beyond. Sitting in a single kayak for the first time today emphasized the need to really sit up straight. The girls are keeping up a running commentary that is distracting and would be hilarious if I wasn't A.) Hungry and B.)tired and out-of-sorts. I was so looking forward to rice and soy sauce and changing plans at the last moment
is not something I am graceful at. I should make water for tomorrow and prep my gear for easy packing early in the morning. I am not sure why such a sense of despondency is hovering about me, but a good sleep will hopefully send it flying. I IDed a lodgepole pine today
from remembering. Burke would be proud. Out here on the coast Pinus contorta is called shore pine, but whether Montana or Canada, a tree is a tree is a tree. Sometimes things seem to hover at the brink of disaster and Gene just sits there calmly, observing from his corner. He thinks I am hard to read and I often feel the same about him. Ah cabbage, the friendly plant. On our first day, there were some sort of biting gnats and as the days go on I seem to discover more and more damage those little creatures did to my feet and hands. I definitely have not eaten very well today, what should have been a day of feasting. Half a bagel with butter, three gingerbread pancakes, and a peanut butter Cliff bar. Possibly caramels later. Cross your fingers. I asked for criticism today and I got it and it was very fair but also very hard to totally monitor. My shut up reminder has returned to my hand, and I only hope that my role in the group is
not too set in any way.

5/31

A quiet journal writer under a sheltering cedar, a sleeping instructor, boat boat for a pillow, two giggling girls lounging in the sand talking about nothing important. A wide sand and cobble beach, and island that offers exploring at low tide, the high chirrups of a bald eagle perched in a snag above me. Wild roses grow and bloom here and the sand is studded with shells of all sorts, some familiar, some exotic. We have an hour more of this quiet time before our evening lesson. The girls say fries and quesidillas for dinner. Okay quick impressions, not nesscarily accurate--Berek, the southern "gentleman"--Alex, the captain of the crew team--Wendall, the odd one--Camille, a little spoiled--Bethany, the princess--Sam, Thoreau--Jon, the child--Ryan, slightly clueless, utterly normal--Me, wilderness girl--Parks, who is fab-u-lous. Today we paddled to Garden Point and Sam behind me we made it a goal not to run into any other boat. When I started to distract myself with songs and games the paddling pain was easy to put aside, but I am afraid my stroke still needs adjusting, for everyone else seems to be complaining of sore abs, and I haven't felt the muscles working there. Perhaps it is because I have no muscles there to speak of. We are staying here tomorrow, with skill building and lessons to fill the day. I feel as though the other girls are beginning to leave me behind. I suppose I am letting them do it and the future is in my hands with this situation, but I was a little annoyed this evening for I feel as though they are slow to do so many group things for they know I will get impatient and do it for them. Still it is a minor situation.

4/31

Unexpected delays, an imperfect campsite, a quiet group of travelers make up the sum of today, due to an upside down single and the somewhat tense rescue. The fact that she did not shrug it off as no big deal reminded us of how fragile our shell of protection is against the wiles of wild Canadia. With a fierce wind picking up against us, we stopped two miles short of our goal today and made camp at a place that is at once wild and holds the firm print of human habitation. Where our camp last night was like a homey site set aside for us, today's camp is something from the end-of-days, post-apocalyptic in scope, with huge concrete supports rising from the water, twisted rusted iron all that is left of the thing it once supposed. Behind me a strange bird crys, "Hoohwah-Hoohwah-Hoo," a new sound, as so many things are new to me on this trip. And yet I know I will learn and adapt to this enviroment, for it is in my nature to be fluid and melleable to the situation at hand. My hands are swollen and sunburnt, we are making pizza tonight, we were given the how to poop in the woods talk, which is amusing no matter how many times you have heard it. Gene said today that I was hard to read, he couldn't tell if I was having a good time. I am, but the switch hasn't come as it did on my WFR class where I learnt how to show it properly without any know it all quality or other negativity creeping in where I don't mean it to be. More after dinner. In the even ing the clouds have started moving in, forcing me to throw up a rainfly, not stormproofed, but at least it will save me a trip outside at 2am. We were thinking of going without tonight, but those clouds make me nervous and I can hear Gene listening to the weather on the VHF radio which makes me think he is nervous too. I learned about black twinberry today and drank camomile tea, and now I am ready for bed. The ground is unusually lumpy tonight. My tentmates are still out and about, full of energy and unnaturally chipper.

Four Winds

At camp, soon to be heading down to dinner. Life at camp in a nutshell: busy, frustrating, magical, beautiful, exciting, rewarding, and topsy-turvy. Life outside of camp is partially scary and partially going so well that it is almost scary in its own way. There is much of the wondering of futures, and much of the planning of adventures, and much of the wishing that things were clearer and simpler, though I don't think I would have as many moments of complete contenment and joy in that version of my life. Lifeguarding and sunshine today. Tomorrow is packing and preparing.

3/31

I am sitting on a huge worn log, what remains of a retaining wall here at an old logging camp, looking out at a near relation of Hood Canal, a northwest fjord of depth and beauty. I think that my lips are sunburned for the weather is continuing to follow a fair and sunny pattern, though the wind against us today brought up old bad memories of why I dislike kayaking. However, we soldiered through it and traveled eight miles south to a camp where we could practice wet exits in a calm and protected environment. The wind is dying now as the land begins to cool for the evening and the calm seems to have fallen over land and sea kayakers alike. A fire has been lit behind me and birds call to each other across the still air, the sunlight sending last rays of hazy sweetness streaming through the marches of steep hills across from me. Ghee rice and lentils tonight. I have promised to try to teach my cook group more and to do less for them, a legit complaint. Wildlife today: an otter who found us as curious as we found it, and a doe and fawn on the water's edge attending to some secert task that only they know. To see the sea-edge grass set against these rotting pilings, softly nodding tufted heads is a type of music made solid. Salal grows here, and blackberry and salmonberry, but it is the wrong season for them all. I try not to share too much and to relax into being a member of the group and in most times, I succeed. I do not know how sore I will be tomorrow, yet. I had forgotten that exquisite moment of panic that arrives when yu realize that you are stuck upside down in the water and the agonizing second before remembering the way out of this mess. I hope for a solid night's sleep tonight and a french braid in the morning.

2/31

I don't feel as though I have been inspired to any great poetical heights of journal writing yet, but I will defend myself by saying the physical exertion and true wilderness section of this trip will not start until tomorrow, when you will see a boost in journal entry interest. However, today was out at 7am and in at 6pm by car and ferry, highway and logging road to a truly remote and beautiful town with snow capped peaks abounding and salt water at our feet. Originally a mill town, but now they just truck the logs out while. There is a campfire going and two social girls keeping the conversation flowing. I feel as though a more through packing list should be written for this course, for there are a number of things that I had to rent. Also silly things like mint extract and shower stuff, most unnecessary but happiness-promoting. Our two instructors, Ken and Gene are excellent and inoffensive, but I wish there was a female leader for me to study and question and bond with, also to help bond the group more. It will happen informally with time, but I know there are other soft-skill strategies. Dinner did not turn out as well as hoped, for too many cooks made me doubt my methods and I added milk which made the cheese stringy and the noodles soupy. Thank goodness I am not yet banned from the kitchen. I am tired though it is early yet and the alpenglow still bounces a warm pink glow into this tent and the evening birds still sing. I am worried that all my things will get wet. I am worried that I will be too weak to keep up. I talk too much and say stupid things. Let it go. Live in the moment.

1/31

Day One at NOLS Sea Kayaking and Sailing. At the HQ in Conway, WA for all of today, talking and prepping, meeting and getting a group feel, waiting through review and picking up a few ideas and tidbits of new information. Like to blow out the last flame of a whisperlite. And other things that seem to be blurring together for me at the moment. I am sitting in the library where I will not be distracted or cold and drooling at the collection of books and videos and papers behind me, wishing I had such easy access all the time so I could absorb some of the knowledge contained here. I suppose that I will have to learn by doing instead. Today started at4:45am and tomorrow will be a ten hour travel day--north and north and north and then finally west across Vancouver island. It's a more exotic location than I expected and I hope it is worth the effort to get there. So far the staff are enthusiastic, the food is good, the gear is quality, and the trip more cushy than I expected. The paddling will still be difficult, surely, but it is a thing I will face when it arrives. Hope for fair weather! Pleasant seas and skies and wind that blows in two weeks. There are several rooms here that are alluring. The library, of course, and the rations room with clean counters, an abundance of small plastic bags, and big bins of food. Also the gear room, which I tried not to spend much time in because I was afraid I would want it all. There is a group of backpackers prepping to go out too, and getting to overhear their process and travel plans has been interesting as well.

First Pictures from Sailing

First Pictures from Sea Kayaking

SKS

5:15 pm, Friday July 10th. I am sitting in the computer room, surrounded by mail, wearing new shoes, contemplating a new fancywork project for later this evening. Computer is loading pictures, Mariner's game is on in the background, and I am actually, despite all common sense, supremely happy right now. Twelve hours ago I woke up in Conway, WA, wet with dew and knowing it was useless trying to go back to sleep. Tea in the library, walking and talking, wrapping up and bidding farewell to my coursemates. Finally getting my Hug of War hug, with minimal awkwardness, driving home with my parents and Sam. Gifts and good food and a bath sometime soon. Most important of all, the possibility of adventures hovering in the near future keeps me looking forward. Pictures to come soon.

and on the wide sea rode a full-blowing sail

I promised myself that I would update this before I leave. Tomorrow. At an ungodly hour. And then it is off for packing and sorting and lectures and traveling, then paddling and soreness and hunger and not fitting in to the group, as per usual. Here's to hoping that all my fears are easily overcome, and that a whale does not decide to rise to the surface with my boat in the way.

"Sea-Fever"

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

By John Masefield (1878-1967).

Pictures from Seattle

WFR

Sorry so long. I've been in class from 8 till six, which results in running around from 7 till 8 and then collapsing in bed and falling asleep while the light is still shining outside. I'm a Wilderness First Responder now, and the happy owner of an Aerie Medical t-shirt, thanks to a strong score on the written examination. I'm hoping for some hot tubbing this evening to soak away the long day before I once again fall into a deep deep sleep.

testing

Ug. Not a good morning. I took the GRE, and did pretty well on the verbal, not so hot on the math, and I won't know about the writing for a while. I think I will have to take it again next year, though how I will improve my math score is debatable, as they aren't really testing math skills, just convoluted numbers skills. I'll know how to pace myself better anyhow. I'm glad it is done. That's all I have to say to that.

words of wisdom

I'm not going to the giant graduation ceremony in the Adams Center, so I will miss out on the inspirational speaker. But Timothy Egan more than makes up for it.

http://egan.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/05/06/dear-graduate/