Blogging Saddles

Yellowstone, January 28-31, 2011

2011-06-05T15:56:00.001-07:00

In the fall of 2010, I read a press release, or an article, or something suggesting that Yellowstone was revising its policy on over-the-snow vehicles. Fearing that a new policy might make it more difficult to visit the Old Faithful snow lodge, I talked Dad, Ann, Hannah, and Noam in to a trip this winter for Dad's birthday. I am not a fan of snowmobiles in the Yellowstone wilderness. We were transported to the snow lodge in a snow coach, which is pretty much a rental car shuttle on tracks. Very cool. The snow coaches stay on the roads, which are not plowed but are groomed for over-the-snow travel. It seems that using snow coaches instead of snowmobiles (or "sleds" as they are strangely called in California) must result in less air pollution, less noise pollution, and fewer trips, but I acknowledge the possibility that I am a hypocrite for not wanting snowmobiles in the Yellowstone wilderness AND going to the Old Faithful snow lodge. The snow coach, at our stop at the Madison River warming hut on the way to Old Faithful:
Vocabulary word for the weekend: a young swan is a cygnet. A cygnet, on the Madison River:

A bison, patiently waiting to board the snow coach:

We met in Bozeman Friday night then drove to West Yellowstone where we dumped the car and hopped on the snow coach. We took the "regular" run (as opposed to the "express" run), which included stops at the warming hut for hot drinks and to see animals, mostly elk, bison, and birds. Hannah and Noam at Firehole Falls, on our scenic detour down Firehole Canyon Drive:

The last stop before Old Faithful was at one of the geyser basins, where we saw the cutest critter, a short-tailed weasel, also known as an ermine in his black and white winter coat. He was darting back and forth under the snow. They are apparently ferocious hunters, but also adorable:

We checked in to the lodge, then immediately headed out to watch Old Faithful:

Sunday morning, Hannah, Noam and I hiked to a higher spot to watch Old Faithful. The geyser is in the center of the picture, about 1/4 of the way from the top. The snow lodge is to the left of the geyser in the picture. The building with the steeply-pitched roof to the right of the geyser in the picture is the historical Old Faithful Inn, which is closed during the winter, presumably because it costs a fortune to heat.

Sunday afternoon, Hannah and I stayed inside while Noam and Dad went cross country skiing. Noam took this amazing shot of a field of bison poo. The bison spend a lot of time around the thermal features in the winter because (surprise!) it is warmer there. Hey bison! Leave no trace!

Hiking the board walk that winds through the thermal features near Old Faithful:

Monday morning, it was time to head home. The snow coach stopped at the Fountain Paint Pots on the way out of the park:

It was getting really cold when we left - the forecast low temperature for Monday night was 28 below - so there was a lot of other-worldly mist over the thermal areas. I loved loved loved this trip, I wish we had stayed longer. The best part was the lack of people. Years ago, I went to Yellowstone for the first time with my stepsister in July. I remember the boardwalk around Old Faithful being packed with people five or six deep all around the circle, probably over a thousand people. This trip, we watched Old Faithful erupt probably half a dozen times, and there were never more than ten other people watching with us.

Connecticut, January 13-18, 2011

2011-06-05T12:11:00.001-07:00

I keep ending up in Connecticut in January since one can fly to New York from San Francisco for ridiculously small amounts of money at that time. New Haven was blanketed by deep, fluffy, still-clean snow. We scrapped a trip to Vermont to enjoy the winter in Hannah's backyard. I indulged in nostalgia for my childhood in the midwest by shoveling part of Hannah's driveway (she was forced to abandon the garage at the first big snow). We went to Sleeping Giant state park for some snowshoeing, followed by drinks at the Mikro Beer Bar in Hamden. Snow beast at Sleeping Giant:
We walked to this park from Hannah's house - the park was overrun with adorable deer with big, dewy, brown eyes and picturesque creeks. It was hard to take:

Costa Rica, December 27, 2010 - January 1, 2011

2011-05-10T15:59:00.001-07:00

We spent a night in San Jose, then got on a bus that took us to the Pacuare River, where we would raft to the Pacuare Eco Lodge. On the raft:
Action shot:

We stayed at the lodge just one night. It was beautiful but it rained constantly the entire time we were there, a steady, heavy rain that let up for just a few minutes in the morning. Since everything was wet, we were asked to take off our shoes and go barefoot in the dining room, so the floor didn't get filthy from everyone's shoes. Using the restroom in the dining hall was a little weird, Jim and I both felt like we had pee foot for the rest of the night. One night turned out to be just enough, because the rain got old pretty fast. We returned to San Jose and flew to Quepos on the Pacific Ocean, where the weather promised to be better.

The plane:

We stayed at the Mango Moon. I love a hotel with resident animals and this one had a herd. There were two big dogs who roamed around and sprawled on the tile floor in the middle of the entry way, forcing you to walk around. There were about three cats including an insane kitten who would attack your napkin during dinner. One of the more sedate cats, who demanded to be let into our room:

A frog in Manuel Antonio National Park:

Beach!

Sara and I prepared for our zip-line, Tarzan swing, rappelling jungle canopy tour:

Sailing and snorkeling on new years eve day aboard La Perla:

Laying in provisions for new years eve:

On new years day, we headed back to San Jose, then home to San Jose:

Panama, December 24-27, 2010

2011-05-09T18:01:00.001-07:00

We flew to LAX, then overnight to Costa Rica, and on to Panama City. Between these four places, LAX, the plane, the airport in San Jose, Costa Rica, and the airport in Panama City, which was the most awful for using the bathroom? I have not even finished asking the question and I can hear you shouting the answer - you are correct, LAX's Terminal 2 was by far the most awful. With the assistance of the iPhone and two street vendors the cabbie addressed as "General" and "Doctor," we eventually located the apartment we had rented. Just a few short hours later, we located the rental agent, who let us in. Who cares though, it was warm and sunny and a gentle trade wind was blowing - welcome to Central America. The view from our apartment, of ships waiting to enter the Panama Canal:

Before there was a canal, there was the Panama Railroad across the causeway, so it was appropriate that our geeking out over the canal started here:

The rail route was built to accommodate a crush of 49ers making their way from the eastern part of the US to California, making it a nice tie in to our gold country trip, which unfortunately ended in a puke-a-rama (see below). Construction of the rail route began in 1850 and was completed in 1855. If you could not afford the exorbitant $25 fare to ride the train, you could pay a much smaller sum and walk the 40 plus miles along the tracks through steamy, mosquito-infested jungles. Awesome. We took the train to Colon, on the Caribbean side of the canal, then hired a guy named Gibson to drive us back and take us to all the prime geeking-out spots along the way. We stopped first at the Gatun locks, the set of locks closest to the Caribbean. Here are the "mules" that move the ships through the canals. The ships are wedged in there with a few feet between the ship and the lock wall on each side and front and back, and they crank those babies through in about ten minutes. Really amazing. Mules (Tioga is cuter):

We stopped for a brief monkey interlude at the Gamboa Rainforest Resort. Capuchin monkey:

Back to geeking out. Two ships in the middle set of locks, Pedro Miguel. The locks are largely the original locks completed in 1914. They operate entirely by gravity flow - no water is pumped anywhere in the system. This works only because Panama gets about four metric shit-loads of rain every year, which fills Lake Gatun in the middle of the canal. It rained about half a metric shit-load while we were there, and that was during the dry season. Pedro Miguel:

Christmas day we got up late, enjoyed the warm breeze on our balcony, then hailed a cab for Casco Viejo, the old quarter of the city. A view of Panama's skyscrapers from Casco Viejo:

Noam and a church:

The president of Panama lives in Casco Viejo in the Palacio de las Garzas, the Heron's Palace. Herons roam the courtyard, it was weird:

On the day after Christmas, we resumed the canal geek-out with a cruise from Lake Gatun through Pedro Miguel and Miraflores locks to the Pacific Ocean. Noam and I cruising through the Culebra Cut, an artificial valley excavated through the continental divide:

A ship passing under the Centennial Bridge crossing Culebra Cut:

Waiting for our lock section to drain:

The lock wall:

Our canal pilot leaving after successfully piloting the cruise boat through the canal:

On our last day, we hired Gibson to drive us to Panama Viejo, then to the airport. Panama Viejo is the remains of a city that was destroyed in 1671 by one of the most notorious and successful privateers and creator of your favorite girly rum drinks (okay maybe not the last part), Henry Morgan. After Panama was sacked by Captain Morgan (garh!!), the city was rebuilt in Casco Viejo. Panama Viejo:

On to Costa Rica!

California's Gold Country, November 27, 2010

2011-02-15T16:35:00.001-08:00

On our way to the Sierra, Noam and I have often quickly glanced left and right while whizzing through gold country in the Sierra foothills and thought it might be a nice place to visit (sometime when we weren't in a hurry to get somewhere in the mountains). The weekend after Thanksgiving we dedicated to gold country. The plan was to start in Coulterville and to drive along highway 49 (get it? Highway 49! Like the 49ers! Who came to mine gold! Personally, I drove across it about 400 times before I made the connection) to Placerville, stopping for the night somewhere in the middle. Now that the miners are gone, it is clear that the gold country towns live and die by tourism. The main drag to Yosemite no longer runs through Coulterville and there is no ski hill nearby, so Coulterville is a sleepy place. This adobe building was the Sun Sun Wo mercantile, a chinese grocery and probably opium den that operated from 1851 to 1926 on Chinatown Main Street in Coulterville:
The Hotel Jeffery in Coulterville, with its cool stamped tin siding and second story porch, operated until recently as a hotel and restaurant:

North of Coulterville we stopped in Chinese Camp to confirm what I have long suspected from driving through it on the way to Yosemite - there is nothing there. We tried to hike around Jamestown but it was raining and miserably cold, so from Sonora we headed to Columbia State Historic Park. The town of Columbia has a history similar to that of many gold country towns: founded in 1850, swelled to accommodate people mining nearby, burned several times, then declined as the gold rush wound down. Columbia is unique in that in 1945, the state of California bought the main street and several side streets, including the remaining buildings. There are several businesses on main street including a couple of hotels, restaurants, and shops, and people dressed in period costume doing demonstrations like blacksmithing and candle making. The Columbia jail:

After Columbia we headed to the Moaning Cavern of Calaveras County. Dripping water used to cause a moaning sound at the entrance to the 410 foot deep cave. We took a walking tour of the cave down to 165 feet below ground, a depth reached by a sketchy looking spiral staircase built in 1922 and at the time, the tallest arc-welded structure. One website I found calls this type of cave feature "cave bacon":

After the cave, we went to the town of Murphys to find food. Murphys has a super cute main street that is littered with wineries. We stopped at a bookstore so I could buy a book including Mark Twain's story about the celebrated jumping frog of Calaveras County, set in the town of Angel's Camp, where we would stay. At the bookstore, we asked for a restaurant recommendation and the proprietor and her friend recommended Mineral, a vegetarian restaurant across the street, or Grounds. We chose Grounds, where I ate a crab cake that nearly killed me. I spent 11:30 PM to 5:30 AM barfing every 35 minutes at the Gold Country Inn in Angel's Camp. Oh, it was horrible! Noam thinks Jesus punished us for choosing Grounds when there was a perfectly awesome haute vegetarian restaurant available. He thinks the punishment being meted out to me alone was a question of jurisdiction. I felt so awful the next day we just drove home rather than continuing our drive north, so stay tuned for Gold Country 2: Electric Boogaloo! Not sure when that will happen, because the thought of going back makes me seriously queazy, but you will be happy to know that Le Petit Bistro in Mountain View has since rehabilitated my relationship with crab cakes!

Berlin, October 28 - November 3, 2010

2011-02-05T19:43:00.000-08:00

We arrived in Berlin and took a taxi to Pankow, a nondescript residential neighborhood in former East Berlin, where we settled in to Shalev's studio. Thanks Shalev! The next morning, we had breakfast at the bakery next door, where the baker listed to our orders spoken in ratty German sounded out from the labels in front of each type of pastry, corrected our pronunciation, then insisted on hearing our corrected pronunciation before turning over the pastries. After some most excellent rhubarb pastries, we headed downtown. We heard so many horror stories about not validating one's S- or U-bahn tickets, it seemed appropriate to commemorate the act:

We took the S-bahn to the Brandenburg Gate, a former city gate and symbol of Berlin:

Pretzel and sausages, the cuisine of my people. Great shot of every single tooth in my lower jaw, no?

The real purpose of our trip to Germany:

The Reichstag, which was famously set on fire in 1933 by a Dutch communist. After the fire, Hitler persuaded President Hindenberg to sign the Reichstag Fire Decree, which suspended civil liberties and which the Nazis used to ban publications that were not friendly to the Nazi cause. Pretty much the beginning of the Nazi era of Germans-behaving-badly. The Reichstag was reconstructed beginning in 1990 and reopened in 1999 as the meeting place of the Bundestag, the German parliament:

Remember how one of the iconic images of the reunification of Germany after the fall of the Berlin wall was the East German Trabants driving on the Autobahn? Now you can drive them through Berlin on a Trabi-Safari. Alison, who is too young to remember the fall of the Berlin wall, could not understand why Hannah and I got all nostalgic at the site of crappy cars with blue clouds of oil smoke coming out the tail pipes. Trabi-safari:

On Friday Ronni took the train to Berlin from Cologne. We met her at the train station and went with her to Kreuzberg. (Later in the trip I went with her to this cute bar in Kreuzberg with the fox tail with binoculars:)

We stopped for pizza in Kreuzberg, where there was a picture of the funny and bossy guy behind counter with a Hitler mustache penciled in and the words "Pizza Nazi" written across the top. I didn't know you could call people "____ Nazi" in Germany, but I guess Seinfeld desensitized us all to that. Here are some helpful directions:

The River Spree:

Saturday Ronni met us in Prenzlauer Berg, where we walked around, shopped, had a cup of coffee, and tried to avoid disturbing the radishes:

Sunday I met Ronni for the exhibit at the German Historical Museum called "Hitler and the Germans." We spent a few minutes being annoyed by the exhibit, then left and cruised around museum island. This is what is known in my house as a Noamage, an homage to Noam - Noam loves him some photos that juxtapose old and new:

Sunday evening we walked through the Topography of Terror, a history of scary things Nazis did, located at the site of the Nazi security apparatus. We were relieved to note that the German treatment of this material is pretty similar to Yad Vashem's treatment (the national holocaust memorial in Israel). This is a picture from the Topography of Terror, *shudder*:

Actually the creepiest thing we saw was a picture from the 1960s of a Waffen SS reunion. Monday Alison and I headed out to Charlottenburg, home of Charlottenburg Palace, a palace built in the 17th century by the wife of Frederick I, the first king of Prussia. Charlottenburg Palace is the only royal residence in Berlin. Pretty neighborhood:

On our last day, I dragged Alison out to the suburb of Wannsee to see the Wannsee villa, where Hitler's lieutenants agreed on the final solution of the "Jewish question." The villa is on a street along the lake crammed with huge mansions. The villa was owned by the Nazi party and used by party higher ups for R and R. Disturbing to think of the premeditation, that the final solution was discussed not in a bunker but at a business meeting in this beautiful place - I can imagine some SS Gruppenfuhrer saying to his secretary "Lena, cancel my eleven o'clock, I have to schlep out to Wannsee for this meeting" (okay, maybe he didn't say schlep). The view from the Wannsee villa conference room:

I finally ate currywurst at the Wannsee train station, pretty much sausages with barbeque sauce. On our last evening, Alison and I waited in line to go inside the Reichstag. I am glad we bothered to do that, since shortly after we returned, I read that the Reichstag is now closed indefinitely to visitors due to security concerns. This is from near the top of the glass globe on the top, looking down into the chamber:

Thursday morning, we dropped the keys with the baker next door at 5 AM and took a taxi back to the airport. Bye Berlin!

Paris, October 25-27, 2010

2011-01-30T11:44:00.001-08:00

My friend Alison and I left San Francisco on Sunday and arrived in Paris on Monday afternoon. We took the train to Luxembourg gardens and walked to the apartment we had rented in the Latin Quarter, where Hannah had been staying since Saturday. We dropped the luggage, picked up Hannah, and started walking toward Cafe Constant, where we met Denny and Ellen for a late lunch. Luxembourg gardens:
With my sister:

After lunch, we walked toward the Eiffel Tower, where we people watched and decided not to wait in line to take the elevator to the top (which I have never done and want to one of these days). With Hannah, Denny, and Ellen on the Champs du Mars:

We had a drink, said goodbye to Denny and Ellen, then walked back to our apartment along the Seine. Tuesday morning we took the metro to Montmatre, where we walked around the neighborhood. Sacre Coeur:

We took the metro back down across the river to Au Petit Tonneau, where we had lunch with Denny and Ellen. After lunch we wandered a bit, then took the train to the Marais. After wandering around the Marais for a bit, we were all suddenly overtaken with a case of too much togetherness, so Hannah headed back to the apartment, Denny and Ellen headed back to their apartment, and Alison and I continued wandering. We walked up to Les Halles, the traditional central market of Paris. I wanted to see Forum Les Halles, a hideous, partially underground shopping center that opened in 1979 and apparently is an accomplishment in shopping mall awful-ness. It didn't disappoint on that score:

When we got tired of walking, we hopped on the metro and headed to the Arc de Triomphe, to see the Arc and watch the traffic on the traffic circle:

Wednesday morning we went to the Great Mosque of Paris, in our neighborhood. The Mosque was founded in 1926 and sheltered Jews during World War II. Hannah at the Mosque:

Nice tiles:

Hannah and I walked to Montparnasse to have lunch with Denny and Ellen, then we took the train back to the airport to fly to Berlin.

World Equestrian Games, October 8-9, 2010

2010-11-07T08:58:00.000-08:00

Abby and I arrived at the Kentucky Horse Park on Friday. We cruised the trade fair and watched some of the exhibitions. This is Molly, the pony who was abandoned in a pasture in St. Charles Parish after Hurricane Katrina, then was taken to a rescue where she was attacked by a dog who injured her leg. Her leg was amputated and she was fitted with a prosthetic leg by the veterinary hospital at Louisiana State University. She was wandering around loose, eating grass, while kids piled around her. What a good-natured pony:
Riding a mechanical version of Cat Ichi, a quarter horse cutting stallion from Texas:

Show jumping on Friday night:

Saturday was the marathon phase of combined driving. The teams of four horses negotiate eight obstacles. The time in each obstacle is crucial, though the time between obstacles appears to be largely irrelevant. The drivers blaze through each obstacle, then after driving through the finish line for an obstacle, may halt to adjust equipment, or walk or trot slowly toward the next obstacle. A German team negotiating obstacle 5, the Stone Garden:

Dutch driver Ijsbrand Chardon in the last obstacle, the Spring:

The driver before Chardon was a Canadian driver who drove conservatively - he seemed to be fairly new to this level of competition. Chardon drove so aggressively that by the last obstacle, he was just a few minutes behind the Canadian, who had started twenty minutes before Chardon. Saturday night was the show jumping final four, where the top four riders

after several days of competition ride each other's horses over a short course. I was cheering for the 28 year old Saudi rider, because I loved his spicy mare and because it is nice to see some new blood in this sport. He took the silver medal.

Portugal, September 11-18, 2010

2010-10-18T19:11:00.001-07:00

I think we can all agree that trips organized around the planned consumption of alcohol are the best ever, so when Amy and Ben invited us to join them for wine and port tasting in Portugal, we jumped at the chance. We arrived on Sunday, picked up the car, and drove to Porto. A quick lunch stop in Coimbra, home of the University of Coimbra, founded in 1290 and one of the oldest universities in the world:

On to Porto, where we dumped our bags at the hotel and promptly headed across the river to Vila Nova de Gaia, the town across from Porto where most of the wineries that make port are located. We headed to Grahams, maker of the 20-year tawny that I tried for the first time in Foreign Cinema in San Francisco, which got me hooked on this whole port drinking thing. On Monday we walked around Porto for long enough to seem respectable, before heading back to the river for more port tasting. Nice architecture in the city center of Porto:

This kind of stuff suggests to me that Portugal is still mourning the loss of her empire:

The Douro river in Porto. On Monday we had dinner at the Taverna dos Bebobos on this quai - DANGER DANGER DANGER! I think the sardines they fed me were poisoned.

Tuesday we left Porto and drove upstream to the part of the Douro river valley where the grapes that are made into port are grown. Traditionally the grapes were pressed, then the wine was shipped downstream about 100 km to Vila Nova de Gaia in flat-bottomed boats of the type in the above photo. At the Ramos Pinto winery we saw some footage of one of these boats headed downriver through some pretty impressive rapids. The river was dammed in the 1960s and the wine is now shipped by truck (not nearly as romantic). The cultivated hills of the Douro river valley:

I was sick all day with food poisoning, so I spent the day that was pretty much the highlight of our trip hanging my head out the car window like a dog, trying not to throw up on the back of Ben's head while he was driving, and most regrettably, NOT tasting port. We stayed Tuesday night in Ourem. Wednesday we headed to Batalha to see the monastery built to thank the Virgin Mary for Portugal's victory over the Castilians in 1385. My food poisoning seemed to have worked itself out by Wednesday morning. Giving the all-clear sign in front of the monastery:

The tombs of King John I and his queen, Philippa of Lancaster, whose marriage cemented an Anglo-Portuguese alliance that continues to this day. So cute, the hand-holding statues:

King Duarte I, John and Philippa's son, started work on a separate chapel, intended as a mausoleum for his family. Duarte I died young and later kings lost interest in the Batalha monastery in favor of the Jeronimos monastery in Belem, so the chapel was never finished. Still, the Unfinished Chapels are the prettiest part of the Batalha monastery, as illustrated by Noam shown here demonstrating his love for Manueline architecture:

From Batalha we headed to Cabo da Roca, the westernmost point in mainland Europe, where we grabbed lunch, then to Cascais, a delightfully low-key seaside town:

Wednesday night we stayed in Setubal, south of Lisbon, on the Sado river estuary:

The last two days of our trip we spent in Lisbon. Below is the church of Sao Domingos, which was damaged in the 1755 earthquake and a later fire. You can see where large sections of stone fell away during the earthquake, leaving the columns looking rough, it was cool:

At the park at the top of the Elevador da Gloria (a funicular):

Sailing in Escanaba, MI, September 3-6, 2010

2010-10-17T15:37:00.000-07:00

We flew to Detroit on Friday, met Hannah, then flew on to Escanaba. Detroit airport has a cute little red people mover train INSIDE the terminal building - pretty cool. Saturday the weather was a little iffy for sailing so we enjoyed the splendors of the upper peninsula instead. We headed down to Cedar River to see the baby sturgeon, then stopped for lunch at the Lighthouse Pub. We waited there, sucking down beer, for the day's whitefish delivery to arrive - it was worth it. Noam is showing off his new Huckleberry polo shirt, awarded only to those who serve with distinction aboard the Huckleberry:
Just inside the door of the Lighthouse Pub is one of those racks with brochures advertising the local outlet malls and dinner-theaters-with-jousting. We picked up a local driving tour which promised old growth forest at nearby J.W. Wells state park. The ranger at the entrance gate looked at us blankly when we asked about old growth forest (stupid lying brochure) but we still paid six bucks and hiked there. New growth trees at J.W. Wells:

Determined to get our six bucks worth from our state park pass, Dad turned north and floored it, determined to make it to Fayette historic state park before they closed. Fayette was the site of a Jackson Iron Company iron smelting operation from 1867 to 1891. The people have moved away, but many of the town's buildings are restored, though sadly not the two story outhouse that once graced Fayette's hotel. Snail shell harbor, where Fayette is located:

The smelting furnace at Fayette:

Sunday we sailed in the Little Bay de Noc. Behind the wheel of the Huck:

The upper peninsula of Michigan is known for pasties, a dish originally from Cornwall which is sort of like a calzone but is filled with meat, turnips, and rutabagas instead of melted cheese and things that taste good. Several times we drove by the fine eating establishment Dobber's Pasties, which had a sign out front with the changeable letters arranged to read something like "Yooper soul food. Now serving gravy." I begged to go there, and dad, Hannah, and Noam finally relented on Sunday. Highly recommended. Monday dad drove us to Milwaukee where we had lunch with mom, then headed to the airport to fly home.

Red Mountain Basin, August 20-23, 2010

2010-09-30T08:56:00.000-07:00

Campsite inventory and obliteration at Disappointment Lake. Yay! I got to lead my longest string ever, three mules, including Leon, who often carries our food in bear-resistant boxes because they are heavy and he is big. Leon seems to have a sense of humor - he will ram you with the corners of his boxes and he appears to know exactly what he was doing. At one point when we stopped for a minute, we left him dallyed on Trooper's saddle horn, and he positioned himself at an unlikely angle, apparently so he could dig the corner of one of his boxes into Trooper's ribs. Me and my string:
Trooper and Franky taking their morning nap:

Piglet and Leon:

Red Mountain Basin is gorgeous, but the trail up there is steep and unforgiving, which you can tell from the place names up there: Hell for Sure pass, Devil's Punchbowl, Disappointment Lake. Below is beautiful, and entirely un-disappointing, Disappointment Lake:

Sunset from our campsite near Mount Henry:

Why why why would you carry a boarding pass this far? Unfortunately this special person burned his or her name, otherwise I would have sent it back to him/her with a request to please obliterate his/her fire ring in the future and pack out half-burned trash.

Self portrait with a tiny blue sliver of Devil's Punchbow in the upper left side of the picture:

You can't really tell from the picture, but this granite was so slick and steep it made my toes curl. Thank goodness Franky knows what to do:

On our last morning, frost in the meadow while we took down the fence and dispersed the piles of horse and mule poo:

Crown Lake, August 16-19, 2010

2010-09-30T08:11:00.001-07:00

Campsite inventories and obliterations at Crown Lake. I'm sitting on Franky, Coco is carrying the tools, and Lisa is carrying some bear-resistant boxes. Coco likes to lean on the rope, which I did not enjoy at the time, but now I am amazed at and thankful for how strong my lats are after a summer of dragging her around.
Crown Lake from the overlook, Wishon's best view:

Our campsite, near the overlook:

On the last work day before we rode out, I felt the beginning of a cold, so I stayed in camp and rested. It was a good decision - the rest of the crew found a boy scout toilet to obliterate that day. I was not sad to miss that. I have the best luck when it comes to boy scout toilets, there are thousands, nay, millions of them scattered throughout the Sierra National Forest, and I always manage to just miss being there when they need to be obliterated. The last night, we burned the toilet and roasted marshmallows. Below, Franky and I are both very disciplined about hydrating:

The Kern River, August 14, 2010

2010-08-29T13:17:00.000-07:00

We drove to Bakersfield Friday in order to meet the Kendalls first thing Saturday morning for rafting. Rafting on the lower Kern River, zesty!
Saturday night we camped with the Kendalls at Tillie Creek, right on Lake Isabella. Thanks Dan and Lesli for feeding us! Our only contribution was my culinary discovery of the summer: feta cheese, herbes de provence, and a can of kidney beans can make any vegetable in your fridge into a respectable salad. We counted bats, zombie satellites, and shooting stars. A good time was had by all.

Woodchuck Lake to pick up trash, August 7, 2010

2010-08-13T07:36:00.001-07:00

We collected a bunch of trash while obliterating camp sites at Woodchuck Lake in July. On Friday I dragged Noam, Juliet, Lukka, and Tioga up to Wishon to pick up the trash cache on Saturday. Sorry for the shameless butt shot, but here is Tioga, loaded with 94 pounds of trash:
We started referring to Zach-the-intern as "Mr. T" due to his passion for transplanting things into the middle of the obliterated fire rings. Mr. T lovingly attending to his plants:

I guess it got a little hot. Here are the same plants, a few weeks later. Sad!

Juliet stopping for a drink at Woodchuck Creek on the way back to Wishon with the trash:

Noam, Lukka, and Tioga, faithfully cleaning up the wilderness:

This is how the three equids felt on Sunday about the 18 mile round trip up steep, rocky trails to Woodchuck Lake:

Sunday was an eventful day at Wishon. Gary, who feeds the mules when Micki is out in the backcountry, came racing down to my cabin to make sure I wasn't killed by a baby bear that his dog treed right by the fire pit. About an hour later, a HUGE dead tree toppled over into the river canyon, right in front of me. Sunday afternoon, after Noam left to drive back to the bay area, I sat on the rock by Wishon and watched this weather blow in over the reservoir:

Kaiser Wilderness, August 3-4, 2010

2010-08-12T14:55:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday I helped Micki pack gear into Nellie Lake for a group of people she referred to as "ologists" - the scientists checking the health of the meadows where cattle graze in the Kaiser Wilderness. Nellie Lake:

We had planned to camp with the ologists, but we would have had to high-line the horses and mules and the ride wasn't really long enough to get them tired enough to behave on the high-line all night. We rode back out and camped where there was a corral near the trailhead. Wednesday we went back in to pick up the ologists' gear. We stopped just short of the lake to climb up to the top of a hill which the cattle permit-holder told us was near the top of the Kaiser Wilderness and had nice views. A rock with grinding holes:

Micki lamented that she was "out of shape." To me, being IN shape means I can make it through 2/3rds of my ancient VHS Jane Fonda's step aerobic workout tape without pausing the tape more than twice to catch my breath. To Micki, based on the way she scrambled up that hill, being out of shape means she is only fit enough to top ten in a Long Course Triathlon, not an Iron Man Triathlon. Gorgeous views at the top:

I did my best to keep up with Micki, gasping for air and sweating, but eventually lost her. Hmm, what to do? I had no water, no radio, and only a vague notion of where we had left the horses and mules. Lucky for me, when I am exhausted and walking uphill, as I was while chasing Micki, I generally count my steps, so I had an idea of how far we had come. I circled back, went what felt like way too far, raced back and forth a few times trying to decide what to do, then sat down on a rock and reconciled myself to the idea that I was lost. It was an amazing experience really, I considered several options, then decided I needed to head back uphill to try and see where the horses and mules were. After I went about twenty steps, there they were - I have never been so happy to see Piglet the mule. I had to sit down for a minute to shed some adrenaline, then I realized I had to figure out the mysterious fire-box (the radio) that hangs on my saddle so I could call Micki and tell her I wasn't dead. Just as I found a tone that I could transmit on, she popped out of the bush, shouting my name. (She assumed I had passed out at the top of the hill.) We continued up to the lake, where Lisa the mule spooked at a bear box and kicked out, catching my arm at the very end of her kick. I spent the rest of the afternoon subjecting my arm to various stress tests to verify about every five minutes that it was not fractured. In spite of all this, I did enjoy the Kaiser Wilderness.

Thursday I helped Micki and her crew pack up the mules and horses and leave from the Maxson trailhead at Courtright Reservoir. A group of people were unloading and packing up their jeeps for a trip down the Dusy-Ershim OHV trail. I love this picture, it looks like I am about to take off four wheeling in the Prius:

Muir Trail Ranch, July 31 - August 1, 2010

2010-08-12T14:19:00.000-07:00

Noam and I drove up to Huntington Lake on Friday and stayed at one of the hellish frontcountry campgrounds there. Just as I was dozing off, I was awakened by a banging noise, which Noam described as "two cretins with a hammer." Saturday we drive up to Florence Lake to catch the first ferry which was delayed for nearly an hour, in classic Florence Lake ferry style, while the captain cleaned her refrigerator.
A meadow on the hike from the ferry to Muir Trail Ranch:

I had forgotten where the cut-off trail to Muir Trail Ranch was, apparently, because we walked right by it. We turned this in to a happy mistake by pretending we had intended to do this in order to hike a triangle up Sallie Keyes cut-off, down the John Muir trail, then back to the trail ranch. Noam on the John Muir trail:

Score! I found this bag of trail mix on the trail. Noam expressed disgust that I intended to eat it, which I scoffed at, but truth be told it is still sitting in my food box at Wishon and I am as yet too chicken to eat any of it. If I bake it into chocolate chip cookies it will be sanitized by the heat, right?

Tent cabin #1, otherwise known as the Tenthouse Penthouse, our accommodation at Muir Trail Ranch:

After checking in and resting for a bit, Noam and I crossed the San Joaquin river on the log jam below to check out the natural hot springs and warm lake in Blayney Meadow across the river.

The log crossing was a little sketchy because you had to drop down about five feet to get on it, and it was high over a fast and deep part of the river. I crossed it on all fours, and I don't care who knows. On the way back, we opted to just ford the San Joaquin instead at the shallowest, widest spot we could find. I thought it was challenging and I had water shoes and a walking stick, I have no idea how Noam made it across in bare feet with no stick. The warm lake was beautiful, right at the foot of Ward Mountain, warmer than the river though not particularly warm. At the hot springs we first met Molly and Steve, two hikers who we would run into at the ferry the following day after they decided to give up on finishing the John Muir trail. They were so fun to talk to that I ended up driving them all the way to Fresno so they could rent a car to go retrieve their car from Whitney Portal on the eastern side of the Sierra.

What Tioga is listening to right now

2010-08-02T15:24:00.000-07:00

Scroll down to picture 19:
http://www.privilege.csides.net/myprivilege.html

Woodchuck Country, July 21-27, 2010

2010-08-02T13:43:00.001-07:00

On Wednesday, the first day of our tour, Lorrie the mule didn't look quite right, so Micki stayed back and mule-sat while Alison and I packed the tools and some gear up the trail to the first tree blocking the trail. Me on Frank, Coco carrying the gear, and Jesse carrying the tools.
Me and Alison cutting the tree blocking the trail:

Thursday Micki packed our gear, me, and Alison, to Woodchuck Lake, then rode back out. Frank, my mount, government horse extraordinaire:

For the rest of the trip, I backpacked. I know! Me! Can you believe it? Proof of my backpacking prowess, on the shore of Woodchuck Lake, where we base-camped:

Friday we cleared more trail. Shooting stars in the meadow near Chimney Lake:

The trail to Chimney Lake, where we inventoried campsites on Saturday, went way up, down, and around, so we hiked cross country down the talus slope below instead. I am not a fan of this stuff - I ride horses and stay on the trail. I was terrified, crawling on my hands and knees and making everyone wait forever for me, but I made it eventually and it WAS way shorter than the trail:

Chapo calling us in to service:

Sunday and Monday we inventoried and obliterated illegal campsites on Woodchuck Lake:

Applying soothing Chapo compresses after a hard day of hiking and obliterating:

Neat tree with twisty bark, caused by a lightning strike:

Woodchuck Country:

It was a great trip for creepy crawly things: 1. the mosquitoes were absolutely epic, 2. Zach, one of the interns, found an endangered Yosemite toad on Monday night, and 3. on our hike out Tuesday, Micki and I spotted this rubber boa:

Crown Valley, Sierra National Forest, July 18, 2010

2010-07-19T12:37:00.000-07:00

To me, this is what summer looks like:
That is the back of Micki, my wilderness ranger friend, who I volunteer with in the Sierra National Forest. I helped her pack in some tools for a volunteer trail crew from the Backcountry Horsemen of California. Here I am, very proud, in my forest service uniform (also known as "the pickle suit"):

Loaded up and ready to go:

View into Sequoia National Park from a forest service cabin in Crown Valley:

Stopping for a drink at a private in-holding surrounded by the John Muir Wilderness, where the volunteer trail crew camped:

Chester, CA July 1-5, 2010

2010-07-13T16:23:00.000-07:00

Kerry and I drove to Angela's house in Chester on Thursday afternoon. Mark left on Thursday night, drove all night, took a wrong turn up a super curvy and not-recommended-for-trailers road, and arrived at 5 AM. Kerry didn't sleep much anticipating his arrival. Angela worked all night, got home at 3 AM. As a result, everyone except me was a little groggy on Friday. No matter, I did some work, then practiced "chillaxing," which I am not very good at. At the end of the day I dragged Kerry into the truck and up Warner Valley road to scope out a trailhead, which we loved so much we went back and picked up the horses. The Pacific Crest Trail near the Domingo Springs trailhead:
Domingo Springs on Warner Valley Road:

Columbine near Domingo Springs:

On Saturday, Noam drove up with Tom and Joelle and two more horses. They lost the turbo on the truck at the bottom of the mountains (don't buy a Ford Powerstroke, apparently they tend to have problems with the turbocharger), but managed to get it fixed before Angela and I got there with a replacement truck. Tom reports much chest thumping ensued. Noam, Tom, and Joelle were a little groggy from getting up at the crack so we limited our riding to swimming with our horses in a little pond on the property where Angela lives. The pond is really a spot where a creek running through the property pools. It was perfectly clear before we got in and stirred everything up. Holly the Beagle went first:

Attack of the pond scum!

Five dorks on horses flanked by two dogs:

Noam and I hanging out with the gorgeous Herefords that live on the property with Angela:

Sunday we drove to a different PCT trailhead from which Jim, Angela's landlord, said we could ride to some great views and the midpoint of the PCT, where we could sign a ledger. I am all about signing ledgers and demanded we take this trail, which unfortunately quickly turned into a rats nest of down trees in that direction, so we had to turn around and ride north instead. Timer shot: Juliet, Lukka, Cygan, and Tommy having a convention at the turnaround spot:

Tom and Angela jumped some logs across the trail and a good time was had by all. After a few hours we headed back to the trailers and into Chester for some ice cream, then amazing cornish game hens prepared by Angela. Angela took us hiking in the evening. We heard fireworks over Lake Almanor, it was an amazing hike in the woods in the dark. Monday morning Kerry, Noam, and I took another ride on the PCT from Domingo Springs, then packed up and headed home.

Sierra Vista Scenic Byway, June 23, 2010

2010-07-12T08:09:00.001-07:00

On Tuesday I attended the horse-and-mule training for the uninitiated put on by my pals at the High Sierra Ranger District of the Sierra National Forest. The three work centers where my Wilderness buddies are stationed are Wishon (woot!), High Sierra, and Clover Meadow. I had never seen Clover Meadow so on my way home on Wednesday, I drove up there via the Sierra Vista Scenic Byway, to take a look. Our tour begins in North Fork, the exact center of California (apparently, according to the sign):
First stop was the Jesse Ross cabin, built in the late 1860s and the oldest known residence still standing in Madera county:

Lots of flowers:

View of the Minarets and Mammoth Pool Reservoir from the Mile High Vista:

I think this is Sierra Penstemon:

Arch Rock, formed by wind and water erosion of the granite:

Butano State Park, June 19-20, 2010

2010-07-12T07:42:00.000-07:00

Jane Huber, one of the bay area's A-list hiking bloggers, describes Butano State Park as meh - nice enough, but not as great as other parks in the area. I have no idea what she is talking about - Butano is amazing, big trees, banana slugs, and coastal fog like Big Basin, without the traffic jams and crush of humanity. We stayed with Mark, Yu-Chen, and Ellie in the park's one campground. On Saturday, Noam and I hiked a loop including the Goat Hill trail to the Ano Nuevo trail. This is a banner year for banana slugs, we saw about four million of them during the weekend at Butano. Above is a mama banana slug shepherding her baby to safety. Or maybe not.

Deer being cute:

Noam with the view from Ano Nuevo trail:

Sunday we hiked the Butano Creek Trail with Mark and Yu-Chen, who carried Ellie the entire time, probably three or four miles - holy feats of strength! That kid is almost four! Butano Creek:

Big trees:

Baby Mule! Auberry, CA June 16, 2010

2010-06-30T16:24:00.000-07:00

While I was in Prather attending firefighter training for the Forest Service, my friend Debbie invited me over to meet Maya, her month old mule. So cute!
She is not the least bit shy, she ditched her mom and came bounding up to us demanding scratches when she heard the cars in the driveway. Here she is, running around and showing off:

Yosemite and Lee Vining, June 7-10, 2010

2010-06-24T17:00:00.000-07:00

I went to Region 5 of the Forest Service's Wilderness Ranger Academy held in Lee Vining June 8-11. I left on Monday after work and ran into four bear jams in Yosemite just before dusk. In this photo, there is a bear in the meadow, in the middle of that group of snags near the center of the photo.
There is still a lot of snow in Tuolumne Meadows: We camped at Moraine campground in Lee Vining canyon. Nice views of the canyon but man was it windy. The first night was not so bad, the second night I got up to stake my tent about six times, since the wind kept ripping the stakes out of the ground, and the third night I slept in the Prius so I could sleep for more than 5 minutes at a time.

On Tuesday, for the afternoon session, I went to a presentation about pack and saddle stock use at the historic Dechambeau ranch, the only one left of many ranches surrounding Mono Lake that served the mining communities in the area. The ranch was active until the 1930s, and was acquired by the Inyo National Forest in a land swap deal. The house, barn, and many outbuildings are still there but are closed to the public and in need of restoration. The house:

Lee Roeser, the packer for the Inyo National Forest and teacher at the seminar said that this building was a small slaughterhouse, and the wheel on the roof was used to dress the slaughtered cattle.

On Wednesday, lenticular clouds over Mono Lake:

On Wednesday, for the afternoon session, I went to a seminar on campsite restoration at a car-camping campground on Lee Vining creek that the Forest Service was closing. Lee Vining creek next to the campsite we restored:

Tioga lake on my way home Thursday:

The Merced River was running at flood stage, so I took a side trip to Yosemite Valley to see it. This area burned in the Big Meadows fire, the controlled-burn-that-got-out-of-control, last year:

Quiz time: what flower is this? Swinging Bridge over the Merced River in Yosemite Valley:

Tioga Upgrades! June 6, 2010

2010-06-24T16:57:00.000-07:00

Tioga moved to Maureen's house to keep her mare Evie company. He now lives in a much nicer zipcode than me. Check out his awesome view of Silicon Valley:
Thanks Maureen!

Chester, CA and the Lassen National Forest, May 29-31, 2010

2010-06-24T12:37:00.000-07:00

Evelyn and I headed out early Saturday and arrived in Chester in the early afternoon. Beautiful scenery on the road to Chester, and at Angela's house, where we camped:
Before heading out on the trail, we stopped at a craft fair in downtown Chester where I bought this opal ring, which was super cheap because the opal had a crack:

We rode on forest service land just down the street from Angela's house, around one lobe of Lake Almanor, then across the causeway splitting the lake. The marshes on the edge of Lake Almanor:

Great picture Kerry took of the lake in the evening:

Evelyn has kids so she never sleeps and I am a morning person. Angela is working on an owl study and does most of her field work at night. Luckily Evelyn and I spotted this coffee shop just down the street, where we found morning lattes and cinnamon rolls, and stayed a few hours to avoid driving the late sleepers bananas. I waited in line behind a guy dressed to the nines in camo and red check flannel, who told the barrista she was about to save him from the worst cup of coffee ever. Since the coffee shop had not been open, he was forced to drink a cup of gas station coffee before going fishing that morning. Now that he had caught his fish and the shop was open, he was ready for his mocha. I thought Chester looked like a ride-your-horse-to-the-coffee-shop kind of place, so I did, the next morning.

On Sunday we rode part of the Bizz Johnson trail, a trail that follows the old Fernley and Lassen Branch line of the Southern Pacific. The line carried lumber and sometimes passengers from 1914 until 1956. It is named for former congressman Harold T. "Bizz" Johnson, who was instrumental to the rails-to-trails conversion effort when the line was formally abandoned in 1978. Lukka, who tends to overheat, rocked a new, airflow-friendly hairdo on the Bizz.

I loaned Lukka to Kerry and rode Angela's young horse Cygan, who was very kind to me:

The Susan River:

Evelyn, Kerry, and Angela next to the Susan River:

The trailhead at Devil's Corral:

Angela and Cracker the dog. Evelyn and I found that cute little yellow travel trailer bird feeder at the Chester craft fair:

Mark taking Cracker for a bike ride before we headed home on Monday:

Henry Cowell State Park, May 23, 2010

2010-06-16T06:42:00.001-07:00

Another weekend of mostly working, but we did manage a Sunday ride at Henry Cowell state park in Felton. That is a great park: redwood trees, river crossings, the sound of the Roaring Camp railroad steam whistle filling the woods with music, and a cool horse water fountain up at the observation deck. Me and Juliet, near the observation deck:
The San Lorenzo river:

Hailey and Jack stopped by for a little pony ride. Cute!

St. Petersburg, May 13-16, 2010

2010-06-11T16:06:00.000-07:00

Before we get to St. Petersburg, a quick word (rant) about Moscow's Sheremetyevo International Airport. Though on paper Sheremetyevo has but two terminals, terminal 1 and terminal 2, in reality there seem to be about 43 terminal buildings, miles and miles apart, none of which are connected in any rational way. I think this sprawling mess of an airport actually covers about 3% of Russia's land mass. Despite knowing that getting between terminals is impossible and therefore checking for the appropriate terminal, our taxi dropped us off in the wrong place. The inter-terminal shuttle consisted of waiting forever for a city bus (!) (!), finding fares for the four of us in a panic, wrestling our luggage over the turnstile (!) (!) on the bus, and figuring out the right stop. JFK is a toilet of an airport, but at least they have the excuse that it was built in the 1940s. No such excuse at Sheremetyevo, which was built for the 1980 Olympics. (It really seemed absurd at the time, but writing it down makes it sound like nothing. Plus my dad pointed out that it used to be worse, he had to pay $50 for a taxi between terminals in the 90s.)

Anyway, we made it to St. Petersburg! St. Petersburg was founded by Peter the Great in 1703 and was the capital of Russia until the revolution. Peter's desire to westernize Russia is obvious in St. Petersburg, which feels distinctly European compared to Moscow. Canals that divide up the city reminded me of Amsterdam. Thursday afternoon we walked around with Victoria, a St. Petersburg resident and sister of one of Yehudit's colleagues, to get a feel for the city. Noam, me, Rachel, and Yehudit in front of the Winter Palace of the Hermitage museum of art and culture. The Winter Palace was the official residence of the imperial family until the revolution.
Ten five-meter tall Atlantes hold up the roof of the old public entrance to the Hermitage museum. Looks heavy:

Nevskiy Prospekt is the main shopping and entertainment street in town. Nevskiy Prospekt crosses one of the canals on the Anichkov Bridge, which is adored by four statues showing four stages of taming a wild horse. I might have done things a little differently horse-taming wise (like I would probably be wearing shoes at the point in training illustrated below), but those statues are awesome.

The Church on Spilled Blood, or Resurrection Church of Our Savior (this indecision in naming churches seems distinctly Russian - every church in Russia seems to have multiple names), was built on the spot where Tsar Alexander II was assassinated. It is the only church of this type (onion-domed, timber construction) in St. Petersburg:

Noam in front of the Singer house, built for the Singer Sewing Machine Company, on Nevskiy Prospekt:

Another equestrian statue on Anichkov bridge:

Yehudit in front of a diorama of the inside of the Mariinskiy Theater, home of the famous Ballets Russes:

We saw a performance of Swan Lake at another theater. It was my first ballet, and it was fantastic. On our last evening, we went to a show of folk music and dancing called "Feel Yourself Russian." Check out this HUGE guitar-like thing:

The show was held in the Nikolaevskiy Palace:

Russian folk dancing, particularly for the male performers, seems to be more about feats of strength than poise, grace, or elegance. I'm not sure I felt myself Russian, but it was cool. Noam posing by one of St. Petersburg's canals on our last evening in Russia:

Moscow, May 9-12, 2010

2010-06-04T20:38:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Moscow on May 9, Victory Day. We opted to take the airport express train and the Metro from the airport, since a huge parade in honor of the 65th anniversary of the end of World War II promised to snarl traffic. We arrived at Komsomolskaya station, named for the Komsomol, the communist union of youth, who helped build the first metro line, slightly overwhelmed. Located under Komsomolskaya Square between three railway terminals, Komsomolskaya station is extremely busy and as such, kind of an alarming introduction to Moscow. After later sampling some of Moscow's other Metro stations, we decided that Komsomolskaya consistently displayed by far the most comprehensive freak parade. Yehudit treating us to welcome beers in the lobby of the Hilton Leningradskaya, one of seven buildings in Moscow built in the Stalinist Gothic style:

Victory day is a big deal in Moscow. The 65th anniversary was a HUGE deal. For the first time, American and British soldiers marched in the parade in Red Square. Everywhere we went we saw veterans wearing their medals, and people handing them flowers and taking their pictures. In the evening, we headed down toward Red Square to see a huge fireworks display over the Kremlin. Here we got our first glimpse of Russian security theater. In the US, I feel like a lot of our post-September-11th preoccupation with security is more about the appearance of security than actual security (the TSA's fetish about seeing people's socks and bare feet and ongoing mission to protect other travelers from water I brought from home and big shampoo bottles in my carry-on come to mind). In Russia, I learned to appreciate the art of US security theater - at least in the US we get Avatar-caliber special effects with our security theater. In Russia, the security theater special effects are like a cheesy 1930s horror movie. (What the hell is she talking about? I know, I'm getting to it, here it is:) Lots of streets around Red Square were closed to traffic. To get into these closed areas to walk around, we were directed to walk through metal detectors with the power plugs laying visibly on the ground next to them, unplugged. As we were scoping out our fireworks viewing spot, Yehudit and the other Rachel walked around the "metal detector" into the "secure" area without realizing it. Two police officers barked some commands at them, which Yehudit and Rachel couldn't hear or ignored because they were in Russian, so the cops gave up and went back to standing there and smoking. Our favorite example of cheesy security theater was the following day at the Hotel Metropol, where we walked in to the hotel through an unattended door to the restaurant, looked at the famous glass ceiling there, had a drink in the bar, walked all through the hotel, then were scolded for walking around the metal detector when we LEFT the hotel through another entrance. In any case, here are the fireworks over the Kremlin, and Yehudit, the patriotic Russian, waving a flag given to her by some druggies in a bus shelter where we waited out the rain.

Monday morning we went to see Iolanta, an opera by Pyotr Tchaikovsky, at the Bolshoi theater's small stage. Here is the real Bolshoi, closed for renovation:

The Bolshoi, even the small Bolshoi, was absolutely gigantic. Those columns are enormous. You walk for what seems like miles across a huge plaza to reach the theater, as the theater gets bigger and bigger. Rachel described it best - Moscow is an overpowering city. Every building seems to be constructed for giants. Every street seems to have eight lanes going in each direction at about 50 miles an hour. If you accidentally ended up on the wrong side of a street, it felt like you had to walk for an hour to cross it. The city seems intent on reminding you at every moment that you are a puny little cog, an ant in the grand scheme of things.

After Iolanta, we crossed the street to the Hotel Metropol for a drink. A bike race past the Bolshoi and the Metropol:

The famous glass ceiling in the Hotel Metropol. The restaurant beneath this thing was too dreary, so we had a drink at the bar instead, where I paid $20 for the world's crappiest coffee.

Refreshed, we headed out to Red Square. On one side of Red Square is GUM, one of the few department stores in Soviet times that actually had consumer goods, for which people stood in famously long queues stretching across Red Square. Now it is the fanciest mall I have ever set foot in. I'm sure some Communists are rolling in their graves:

St. Basil's Cathedral, a giant piece of candy sitting on the edge of Red Square. Legend says that Ivan the Terrible blinded the architect so he could never again create such a masterpiece, but Wikipedia is skeptical:

The dinner hour was approacing, so we headed to Arbatskaya, a neighborhood outside the Kremlin where historically the tsar's artisans lived. I so loved being there with the other Rachel. Vacationing Shendar-style is a hard core, 7 AM to 10 PM occupation. The Shendars do not stop for frivolities like food or rest. Rachel is, thankfully, a mere mortal like me, so we did get to eat a few times during the trip. The Turkish food we found was cheap and pretty good, and that is all I have to say about Arbatskaya.

The metro in Moscow really is amazing. Trains run constantly - even late at night, we never waited more than two minutes for a train. In one of those famous, chandeliered stations:

A mosaic of grandpa Lenin in one of the stations:

Tuesday we went to the Kremlin. Rachel and I standing on the square where a bunch of Kremlin churches congregate.

Lord, the gold domes. Apparently, in Russia, over-the-top = elegant. If a little gold is good, then a crapload is a crapload better. I particularly enjoyed this effect in restaurants. Yehudit rejected one restaurant because it was so cheesy-sounding that we figured it would be a total tourist trap. I read later that actors and oligarchs often frequent the place. One restaurant recommended by the hotel for authentic Russian food had a down-on-the-farm motif, complete with a stream with fish in it running through the dining room, and some pheasants in a cage a few tables over. I love it! Meanwhile, back at the Kremlin. Moscow's public green spaces were fantastic. The tulips in this park at the Kremlin were gorgeous. Not a lot of tulips in California, it made me nostalgic for summer in Wisconsin:

The Armory at the Kremlin, with the museum of lots of historical crap, and the Diamond Fund, a collection of precious stones that was totally amazing. Absolutely HUGE rocks, there must have been a billion dollars worth of stones in there. Or maybe this isn't the Armory, in which case it is Some Yellow Building in the Kremlin:

After the Kremlin, we headed to Red Square to search for a hipster cafe where we could refuel. Noam with my Kir Royale at the hipster cafe, which came complete with a hipster oligarch-in-training in a shiny grey suit and a shirt with huge purple flowers:
Refueling was necessary to face our next challenge, finding our way to a Jewish Community Center where Yehudit had one of her exhibits. Two Metros, then thank you google for showing us this lovely street car that took us right there. How did we live before google maps? Excellent work navigating Noam!

Wednesday morning we headed to the Cathedral of Christ the Redeemer, and this awesome statute of Peter the Great. It was originally a statue of Christopher Columbus (most overrated figure in history) intended as a gift for the US. When the US government refused it, the sculptor ripped off the head, replaced it with Peter the Great's head, and sold it to the Russian government. It is HUGE, and extremely hideous.

The Cathedral of Christ the Redeemer was blown up at the request of Stalin in 1931 and reconstructed at great cost and controversy between 1994 and 1997. Noam and I are WAY on the other side of the river looking back at it, they sure do not do anything small in this country:

Nice view of the Kremlin, too bad it was on a highway bridge with traffic whizzing by:

Wednesday afternoon there was a press conference for Yehudit's other exhibit, at the Museum of Modern History (referred to as the "stuff people gave Stalin" museum by one of the people working with Yehudit on the exhibit). Yehudit's exhibit featured works by the artist Tolkatchev, an artist who enlisted in the Red Army during World War II to create official art for the regime. He arrived in both Majdanek and Auschwitz shortly after liberation. At Auschwitz he was compelled to sketch what he saw but had no paper, so he rifled through an office to find some paper. Many of the images in the exhibit, powerful images of hatred and suffering, were sketched on the letterhead of the commander of the Auschwitz camp. How awesome that the who, what, and where are forever so intimately associated with the images. Noam and Rachel outside the exhibit.

After the press conference, Yehudit was finished with work for a few days and joined us for the afternoon. We took the Metro to Moscow State University to see another Stalinist Gothic skyscraper, the main university building:

Gorgeous! We walked in but couldn't get too far, lacking a student ID. The area inside the main door was amazingly drab and claustrophobic for such a gigantic and creepily elegant building.

We walked to a ridge for what the book described as an "unsurpassed view across the city" (skip it), then rode this chairlift down the hill next to what is apparently the training area for the Russian ski-jumping team:

Noam and I rode a chairlift in China, so we are obviously brave when it comes to conveyances with sketchy manufacturing or maintenance histories, but this sucker was pretty bare, no sides to the thing, just a flat square moving through the sky with ample opportunities to fall off. I marveled, but Noam pointed out, does this strike you as a society that feels much fear or shows any weakness? Good point.

After the chairlift, we rode a boat down the river and headed to an Armenian restaurant in the Kitay Gorod neighborhood for some excellent food. I couldn't resist ordering the "Existence Ethereality" for dessert. That is a dessert with a lot of promise, and it was pretty good! On to St. Petersburg.

Henry Coe State Park, May 1, 2010

2010-05-24T08:40:00.000-07:00

We had planned to go backcountry camping at Point Reyes to celebrate Noam's birthday, but as the weekend approached, I realized with our upcoming Russia trip, there was no way I would be able to camp all weekend and keep my job. In the category of worst wife ever, you may recall that last year we camped at Yosemite for Noam's birthday. I had promised him a birthday dinner of steak but ran out of time to go to the grocery store, and instead served him weenie mac. This year, I managed to outdo myself yet again - instead of camping all weekend, we worked instead! It ended up being an okay birthday, in addition to work we managed to squeeze in breakfast at Krispy Kreme, a shopping trip to the REI garage sale (where Noam got squat and I got new-used skis), and a sunset ride at Henry Coe followed by Sonic Burger. Beautiful light at Henry Coe:
We managed to find all my favorite flowers, woodland shooting star, owl clover, and mouse ears. I think these are hollyhocks:

I forgot Lukka's bridle, so we rigged her up with this fine redneck contraption, basically the bit tied in her mouth. Elegant!

Note to Sonic Burger: you need at least one horse trailer parking spot for car hop service. Watch out for Lukka though. If she manages to steal some onion rings off your tray, don't try to get them back! Very dangerous!

Montmartre, April 11, 2010

2010-05-19T17:42:00.000-07:00

Saturday we drove from Aix back to Paris, ditched the car at Charles de Gaulle (good riddance), and took a taxi to Montmartre. In Aix I *loved* going out every morning to the boulanger and trilling "Bonjour Madame! Un pain au chocolat et deux croissants!" in my faux poseur French singsong. I know it was wrong, but it was so fun. So, we rebelled against the 15 euro breakfast at the hotel, and I brought some pastries back to the hotel. Coffee-to-go, however, could not be found, so our first stop on the tour of the day was a cafe around the corner for cafe au lait. Mom and Roberta were delighted to discover that it was the Cafe des Deux Moulins, the cafe in the movie Amelie. Mom and Roberta with Amelie:
Coffee fortified, we headed out and wandered up the hill toward Sacre Coeur. The Rick Steves guidebook I borrowed from mom was from 2007 and was kind of crapping on Montmartre as being a bit seedy. I suspected gentrification had set in a la Times Square, but not entirely, as evidenced by this crack pipe we noticed on the sidewalk:

View of Paris, sort of, from Montmartre:

Right around the corner from Sacre Coeur is the Place du Tertre, lined with cafes and absolutely jam-packed with artists eager to sketch your picture. It was still early enough when we got there that there were few people to sketch, so the paint-splattered artists were still relaxing and drinking their coffee:

We made the obligatory pass by the crowded and apparently urine-drenched Sacre Coeur (man, it stunk on the plaza in front of the basilica), then headed off to better-smelling environs on the back side of the Montmartre butte. Mom, in front of the Lapin Agile, one of the cabarets attended by the likes of Picasso and Toulouse-Lautrec, still going:

A view of the last vineyard in Paris, from the recommended Museum of Montmartre:Sweet Montmartre ride:

The Moulin de la Galette, one of Montmartre's few remaining windmills:

Lovely Sacre Coeur, later in the day when the pee smell had somewhat dissipated, but the hordes had moved in:

Aix-en-Provence, April 9, 2010

2010-04-27T21:25:00.000-07:00

We spent our last day with Denny and Ellen walking around Aix. Being a fan myself, I can appreciate a city that names a street after a black mule:
We headed down the Cours Mirabeau to the market near the Hotel de Ville, where we shopped for provisions for our farewell dinner. A moss-covered fountain on the Cours Mirabeau:

Denny with his hipster macarons:

Wow, were those tasty. I felt like being outside in the sun, so while the rest of the crew took in the tapestry museum, I walked to the Pavillon de Vendome, built by the Duke of Vendome to house his mistress in what was then the outskirts of Aix. I sat in the sun by these nice blobby shrubs and made a little vitamin D:

Trompe l'oeil paintings by Jean Daret at the Hotel Chateaurenard, painted in honor of Louis XVI's visit to Aix in 1660. Old Louis was so impressed by the paintings (I think it was the birdcage in particular) that he made Jean Daret his official painter.

After our fabulous farewell dinner of steak and oysters, rooftop kitty theater:

The following morning, Roberta, mom and I drove back to Paris.

Arles and the Camargue, April 7, 2010

2010-04-26T21:09:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday we drove to Arles, a city on the Rhone river. I was completely blown away by how ugly the riverfront was - paved and industrial, about the same as the Los Angeles riverfront except older so the paved channel looks kind of cobble-stone-y instead of concrete. City scene in Arles:
Arles' leftover Roman junk earned it a spot on the World Heritage Site list. The amphitheatre, you have to hand it to those Romans, is still in remarkably usable shape:

Roberta was no longer able to hide her true feelings:

Perhaps Arles' greatest claim to fame is having triggered the rapid deterioration of Vincent van Gogh's mental health. Van Gogh painted some of his most famous paintings (and left his ear) in Arles. Easels throughout the city mark the site of van Gogh paintings, such as this cafe:

A family posing for pictures at the cafe in the painting:

Finding the easels was a fun treasure hunt. Look, a garden!

Just outside of town, look! Another easel! See? Isn't that fun? An awesomely rickety drawbridge, looking slightly more dreary than in its painting. Deterioration from the intense light of a bazillion flash bulbs? Probably . . .

South of Arles is the Camargue, the marshy delta of the Rhone river. The Camargue is home to an ancient breed of horses, the Camargue horse, a rugged little white Iberian horse. I love a white horse, easy to find at a distance:

Luberon, April 6, 2010

2010-04-26T20:02:00.000-07:00

Uncle Denny and Aunt Ellen arrived in Aix on Monday. On Tuesday we all drove to the Luberon, a hilly region northwest of Aix. First stop was L'Isle sur la Sorgue, the Venice of Provence, situated on an island where the Sorgue splits into two streams:
Between watching ducks and studying the weeds in the stream, I was mesmerized:

I saw this in a shop window that was plastered with old timey ads. Kangaroo-recommended briefs! Hot, hot, hot!

We walked by the bank that was robbed in Peter Mayle's novel "Hotel Pastis", then fortified with drinks at the Cafe de la Sorgue . . .

. . . before driving up to Gordes for lunch:

The crew taking in the tight alleyways in hilltop Gordes:

Beautiful views of the town on the road in to Gordes:

The hills of the Luberon:

Last stop was Roussillon, another hilltop town known for the pink, red, yellow, and orange ochre pigments in the surrounding hills. Ochre cliff:

Making repairs on a stone wall with ochre-tinted mortar:

View of Mont Ventoux and the Luberon hills from the top of Roussillon:

Cassis, April 5, 2010

2010-04-12T16:21:00.000-07:00

We were warned that Easter Monday was a holiday in France so all the fun places would be crammed with people, but we didn't really believe that it would be that bad. Wow, were we wrong - Cassis was mobbed. After many false starts (note to self: never again attempt a road trip in Europe without GPS) we eventually found Cassis, a typical though charming seaside tourist trap:
The coast between Marseilles and La Ciotat, including Cassis, is dotted with calanques, little coves with limestone walls, essentially Mediterranean fjords. We toured a few of the calanques by boat. This bluff marks the edge of the inlet where Cassis is located. Fodor's claims it drove Winston Churchill to paint:

Limestone!

On the tour boat:

Calanque En-Vau, the prettiest of the three we visited, with soaring walls and a little castaway beach:

Aix-en-Provence, April 4, 2010

2010-04-07T08:59:00.000-07:00

We arrived in our awesome apartment on Rue de l'Opera in Aix-en-Provence on Saturday evening. The view of a steeple from the wee terrace at the apartment (I love it that there are lights on):
Easter Sunday we walked around Aix. First stop: a crafty, fun-stuff market on the Cours Mirabeau, one of the main drags in Aix. Mom and Roberta in their native habitat:

One of Aix's many fountains, at the end of the Cours Mirabeau:

Awesome overhanging leg on a sculpture on a building at the place de l'Hotel de Ville, where we sat and drank coffee:

In the 5th century Merovingian baptistery at Cathedrale St-Saveur:

Burgundy, April 1-2, 2010

2010-04-04T11:17:00.001-07:00

Mom, Roberta and I rented a car at Charles de Gaulle and drove to Dijon, the capital of Burgundy. Noam's rule is you have to stay up until 8 PM on your first day to beat jet lag, so I death-marched mom and Roberta around Dijon once we arrived. Notre Dame in Dijon, awesome facade with a ton of gargoyles:

Dijon's Notre Dame has a little owl statue on the side that people rub for good luck, so the owl has become a symbol for Dijon. Owls in the pavement mark the Dijon walking tour. I am a sucker for a cartoon owl:

On Friday we drove to Vezelay. The Basilique Ste-Madeleine, with its relics of Mary Magdalene (ewww), was a focal point of Christianity during the 11th and 12th centuries - St. Bernard announced the second crusade from there. Vezelay, from the parking lot:

Mom and Roberta in Vezelay:

I found the most gigantic almond meringues at a bakery in Vezelay. At one euro 50, you could feed a family of four:

Man that town was cute! View down Vezelay's main drag, Rue St. Etienne. Note the little white dots on the grass, sheep!

View of Burgundy from Vezelay:

On the way back to Dijon, we stopped at the Abbaye de Fontenay, a Cistercian abbey founded in 1118 by St. Bernard. The abbey was closed but the bathrooms were still open, score!

Saturday we drove from Burgundy to Provence. We had planned to stop at some of the vineyards outside Dijon, but it was pouring rain and about 9 in the morning, so we scrapped that plan and headed to Beaune. We toured the Hotel-Dieu, founded as a hospital in 1443. Fodor's tells me the tile roof and Flemish architecture have become icons of Burgundy:

We stuck it out for a while, walking around Beaune in the rain, then decided to screw it and search for nicer weather on the road south.

Paris, March 30-31, 2010

2010-04-01T12:42:00.000-07:00

On the plane on the way over I sat next to kid traveling by himself. Totally great kid, we thoroughly reviewed our movie choices together and snarked about the crappy food, it was fun. At some point in the night he put his feet up on the empty seat between us and completely blew me away with a cloud of epic foot odor! What is it with 12-ish year old boys and stinky feet? I got to Paris and took the train to my hotel across from the Luxembourg gardens in the Latin Quarter: I had enough energy to walk around a bit and eat a salad, then I went to bed. Wednesday morning I had breakfast then started walking. Nice clouds above the Ile St. Louis (I apologize for being too lazy to figure out how to do accents on this thing.):
I walked to the Marais area north of the Seine toward the Jewish quarter. I purposely didn't look up exactly where the Jewish quarter is because finding the Jewish quarter in a city like Paris, where the Jewish population is a shadow of its former self, is a fun treasure hunt. I fairly quickly found this building, a nondescript synagogue, by two typical indicators, 1. a sign on the door saying "no visitors" and . . .
. . . 2. a cop standing out front. Sigh. Note to anti-semites out there, besides your many, many other flaws, you are really uncreative.
Another thing I found during my treasure hunt, a small memorial above the door of a building to several people who were deported and killed at death camps during World War II.
Here is the building with the memorial:
So creepy to see this in a neighborhood in Paris just north of the Seine. How could people have been deported from this place?

Neat graffiti:
I went to the Carnavalet Museum on the history of Paris as soon as it opened at 10. My French is so crappy that it would have taken me a year to get through just the stuff before the revolution, but luckily Rick Steves had a great museum tour in his book, so I followed that. The Carnavalet:
After the Carnavalet I headed to the Pompidou museum of modern art, but the line was stupid long so I skipped it. The Pompidou and the line:
I walked down past the Louvre, cut through the Tuilleries, crossed the Seine, passed les Invalides and stopped for lunch at Au Petit Tonneau. It rained a bit, then hailed on me briefly in the Tuilleries, so I was pretty soaked by the time I got there. I ordered veal. Noam hasn't had veal since the first time he saw one of those little white plastic caves where veal calves live and was completely horrified. I stopped eating veal soon after, but I figured I am in the European Union, they must have some anti-cruelty laws that protect veal calves. The meat was fabulous though not super tender, which I am thinking supports my theory. Au Petit Tonneau, yummy:

Self portrait with the Eiffel tower after lunch:

Self portrait with Notre Dame later in the afternoon:

The Memorial of the Martyrs of the Deportation on Ile de la Cite right behind Notre Dame, a memorial to people who were deported during the second world war:

Perhaps I am reading too much in to this, but the French are known for their pride in their language. All day long people humored me and waited patiently while I barfed out my lame and no doubt hideously incorrect French, then answered me in French and only switched to English after I gave up and switched myself. Except the woman at the deportation memorial, who immediately addressed me in English. Hmm. I guess only Anglophones bother to go to that memorial.

My feet were killing me at this point but I stopped at the Cluny museum of the middle ages. During the French Revolution, many churches including Notre Dame were pillaged. Some revolutionaries mistook the kings of Judah in Notre Dame for the kings of France and destroyed several statues. The heads were saved and buried. They were unearthed in 1977 by someone digging for something other than heads from statues at Notre Dame, and are now displayed at the Cluny. The heads of the kings of Judah:

Thursday morning at Luxembourg station, heading back to the airport to pick up my mom and aunt for a trip to points south:

Sea Lions in Moss Landing, March 28, 2010

2010-04-01T11:47:00.000-07:00

My horse club arranged a lecture and demonstration by Dr. Jenifer Zeligs-Hurley of Moss Landing Marine Laboratories' SLEWTHS program: Science Learning and Exploration With The Help of Sea Lions. David Lichman, an accomplished horse trainer with the Parelli Natural Horsemanship program, has studied all types of animal training, and proclaimed Dr. Zeligs-Hurley one of the most accomplished animal trainers he has come across in his study. Dr. Zeligs-Hurley and her sea lions were fantastic. Her presentation was a nice mix of theory and demonstrations, and she is a gifted speaker and (obviously) sea lion trainer. This is Sake the sea lion, the most famous of the bunch (she appeared on The Tonight Show) and probably the most highly trained sea lion in the world. Thinking up the next cool trick:
Learning to use hose-reins so Dr. Zeligs-Hurley can direct Sake in the water while swimming with her.

Sea lion kiss from Cali the sea lion. It was just like have a dripping wet, fishy-smelling sponge on one's cheek, but in a really good way!

Huddart County Park, Woodside, March 27, 2010

2010-03-28T08:37:00.000-07:00

I volunteered for the San Mateo County Parks Volunteer Horse Patrol. On Saturday, I did my ride-along with fearless patroller Kathy Woods. No perps, scoundrels, rule-breakers, or even down trees on this patrol, just beautiful redwoods:

Los Padres National Forest, March 12-14, 2010

2010-03-15T13:52:00.000-07:00

We spent three beautiful sunny days camping with some friends from Indian Hills at Rancho Oso in the Los Padres National Forest, near Santa Barbara. Angela and I drove down early, while the rest followed after work. Thankfully the rainstorm that followed the late crew all the way from San Jose never materialized at Rancho Oso.

It is finally starting to feel like spring. We saw tons of wildflowers: owl clover, shooting stars, blue dicks, poppies, lupin, and various other unidentified blue guys, purple guys, and yellow guys.

There was a lot of water in the Santa Ynez river. Nature's all-terrain vehicle:

Sunset back at Indian Hills on Sunday:

Wisconsin, March 3-9, 2010

2010-03-11T15:26:00.001-08:00

In summary: I ate my way through Wisconsin. It was rad.

I arrived Wednesday and had dinner with mom at Swig in Milwaukee's hip Third Ward neighborhood. Thursday dad picked me up and drove me to Madison, then Heather, Francesco and I had dinner at L'Etoile, a Madison institution (fancy artisanal Wisconsin cheese: check). The L'Etoile people were swooning over Francesco, it was like being with Bono at the World Economic Forum. Friday dad and I had lunch with my aunt Audrey (frozen custard: check), then dinner at Francesco's restaurant, Osteria Papavero, the best eats in Madison (Francesco's restaurant: check).

Saturday we headed back to Milwaukee, picked up Noam at the airport, then went to the Iron Horse for lunch (brat: check, Miller High Life: check). Monday mom and I went to Sheboygan to visit my cousin Jennifer and her family. We had lunch at the excellent Field to Fork, a localvore restaurant (deep fried cheese curds: check). (A localvore restaurant in Sheboygan! I know! Amazing, isn't it?)

These are the only pictures I managed to take on the trip: me admiring the cream city brick, a cream-colored brick made from clay found on the western side of Lake Michigan, in the Third Ward.

Noam after assembling mom's new TV:

Mammoth, February 25-28, 2010

2010-03-05T08:42:00.000-08:00

The flight from San Jose to Mammoth on Horizon was amazing, 36 minutes over the Sierra on a perfectly clear sunny day, and free beer and wine! I think this is the Evolution Valley in Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks:
Noam at Mammoth Yosemite Airport, look at those mountains:

Skiing on Friday with the Kendalls and the Glassbergs:

The weather coming in Friday afternoon:

It snowed 26 inches overnight Friday. I learned I am NOT a powder hound, on Saturday I skiied two runs, had a temper tantrum at how difficult it was, then took the shuttle back to the Glassbergs' condo and worked on a patent application instead. Time for better skis!

Yosemite, February 20-21, 2010

2010-02-24T18:41:00.000-08:00

Years ago, the Curry Company used to light a bonfire at Glacier Point then shove it off the cliff. This was the famed Yosemite Firefall, which my grandmother saw sometime in the 1940s. The practice scarred the face of the cliff and caused the meadow where people gathered to watch the firefall to be trampled, and was thus discontinued in the 1960s. These days, we have only a natural firefall in late February, when the angle of the setting sun lights up Horsetail Falls in gold, silver, and sometimes red. It is gorgeous. You'll have to search google images: it was overcast the weekend we were there. But we still had a great weekend. Saturday morning walk from Yosemite Falls to El Capitan along the Merced River:

El Capitan hiding in the clouds:

Saturday afternoon, a crowd of photographers at Tunnel View:

Saturday afternoon, snowshoeing at Badger Pass with Noah and Tamar:

We stayed at Camp Curry, in a heated tent cabin. The family in the tent next to us totally lacked inside voices and shouted at great length about insipid and vacuous things. This is a risk you take staying at Camp Curry. The good people at the Delaware North Company must have read my post about Sequoia and Kings Canyon, even though I didn't write it until after we returned: they are starting to win me over with free coffee in the morning and free hot chocolate in the afternoon in the registration building at Camp Curry.

Sunday morning we hiked up the Mist Trail. Noam wanted to hike to the top of Nevada Fall but we got turned back by snow below Clark Point.

As we hiked back down the Mist Trail it started snowing, so we high-tailed it out of the park to avoid getting stuck in chain controls.

Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks, February 14-15, 2010

2010-02-24T17:30:00.000-08:00

Sunday we arrived in the afternoon and headed straight to the Woolverton snow play area to get some non-driving activity in before the sun set. I tried out my new snowshoes, purchased in New Hampshire with Hannah at the Ocean State Job Lots, one of my new favorite tightwad shopping experiences. My snowshoes were less than 2/3 the price of Noam's cheapest-on-sale-at-REI showshoes (if you don't count the postage required when I couldn't fit them in my luggage and made Hannah mail them to me), AND they included poles AND a bag. They are awesome. They will no doubt fall apart after about a dozen uses, but by the time I reach a dozen uses, I could be 50! Woolverton snow play area is crammed with people and kinda sucks but here are the snowshoes:

We stayed at the Wuksachi Lodge. Though the lodge is pretty basic for how expensive it is, it isn't quite basic/expensive enough to explain my irrational dislike of the Delaware North Company, the concessionaire who runs the lodges and other stuff in Yosemite and Sequoia/Kings Canyon parks. I should be a huge fan solely from my experience with Tioga, our mule, the world's greatest mule, a 20+ year Delaware North employee. But I'm not. Something about crass profiteering in the national parks, I guess. One thing I do love is how easy it is to get their employees to bag on them. Sunset at the lodge:

Monday morning we got up pretty early and I snowshoed and Noam skied in the grove where the General Sherman tree is. It was beautiful, the sun was rising and lighting the trees, and we had the entire grove to ourselves. It was pretty icy and Noam fell a couple of times. It must have felt like falling on concrete. Ouch! I have become a big fan of snowshoeing, since they work really well when conditions suck for cross country skiing, which is pretty much always in California. Noam with the General Sherman tree:

We tried again at Big Meadows in the Sequoia National Forest. The cross country skiing there was great because it had gotten warm enough for the ice to soften, plus it was in the national forest so we could bring our guns and our dogs and build giant fires, thank god. Cool clouds viewed from the road out of the park:

Take that Fresno! We got all the sun, you guys can suck it!

Death Valley National Park, February 13-14, 2010

2010-02-24T16:16:00.000-08:00

Washington's birthday, baby! Noam and I left early on Friday (shh!) and drove south to lovely Delano, outside lovely Bakersfield. Saturday morning we drove around the bottom of the Sierra and into Death Valley. We could tell it had rained from the standing water left in some low places. The clay soil does not absorb the rain very quickly. The Panamint Valley, where we stopped for lunch:

We hiked into Mosaic Canyon near Stovepipe Wells. Noam lounging in the canyon:

Slick, polished walls:

More Mosaic Canyon:

Golden Canyon, near Furnace Creek:

The spot where I napped while Noam hiked a little longer:

Zabriskie Point, lovely but tour bus hell at sunset:

I love the desert. Not as much as dessert, but still.

Sunday morning we hiked to Darwin falls, near where we camped at Panamint Springs, then headed out of the park toward Sequoia and Kings Canyon National parks. Darwin Falls:

Montana de Oro, January 30-31, 2010

2010-02-24T16:04:00.000-08:00

It has been wet this winter. Mentally and emotionally I cannot handle another year of drought, so I am happy to have the rain, but ugh, this time of year I go to the ranch, smell the monkey-pee-drenched-zoo smell, look at the horse up to her knees in sticky mud, and wonder why I didn't take up motorcycles instead. A few of my horse peeps and I headed south to Montana de Oro, to escape the mud and find a little bit of spring, if only for the weekend. Juliet cam on the trail to the beach:

Beautiful ride:

On the beach with Evelyn and Polli:

We stayed at the Sea Pines golf resort, which has a few horse corrals across the street and is walking distance to the park. Go there soon, one of the employees told us a grocery store is planned on the parcel where the corrals are located. Thanks Kerry for these pictures!

New Hampshire with Hannah, January 17-18, 2010

2010-02-24T12:30:00.000-08:00

On Martin Luther King Jr. day a few years ago, Noam and I were driving through a redwood forest near Mendocino, CA, listening to the "I have a dream speech" on the radio. Amazing. That speech gets me every time. MLK Jr.: the holiday, however, does not seem to have caught on quite as well, except for in the federal government and my office. Thank goodness Hannah went to work for the federal government, so now I know one other person who also has the day off. We spent the weekend in the Mount Monadnock area of New Hampshire. A nice rock wall and view of wintry New Hampshire:

We stayed at the Birchwood Inn in Temple. Despite the Birchwood being voted "Best British Experience, New Hampshire" by Yankee Magazine's editors, we actually picked it because Henry David Thoreau stayed there. Hannah and I went to Henry David Thoreau elementary school and have remained die-hard HDT fans. Our enthusiasm is undiminished, even after discovering that despite penning the awesome "In wilderness is the preservation of the world" line, HDT completely freaked upon experiencing real wilderness in Maine, and that during his "simple living" experiment at Walden his mother did his laundry. The Birchwood Inn:

It snowed like crazy Sunday night. I applaud the granite staters: by the time we got up at about 7, the roads had already been plowed and "gritted." (Thank goodness I had recently been to Ireland during a cold snap, so I could speak the "winter road conditions" British dialect.) Hannah and her car:

Hannah and I managed to catch the tail end of the "I have a dream speech" on the radio, just in time to hear "So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire." Woot!

Hacked!

2010-02-24T12:26:00.000-08:00

I've been hacked! Apparently, when you pay 11 cents per decade for hosting, you get what you pay for. Noam has restored most of it but we lost some content. I was depressed about the whole thing, but resigned to happily reconstruct things on bloggingsaddles.com, until yesterday when I clicked on a link and got a virus. From my own website! That was the last straw, I am now going to blog on blogger like normal people.