Shabbat

Just had a really nice dinner. Our substitute cook made a fantastic stir-fry, and all of us--interns, field staff, owners, one participant whose flight out today got screwed--sat around one table and broke bread together. Since Panim is coming up, several people were Jewish and we had wine and challah and a blessing. It was the cosiest I've felt since I got here.

The other best moment of my day was at the meeting this morning. There was a mountain shuttle today, and JR wrote himself in for it when Seth's back was turned. Then the field leader whose group we were shuttling came in and said she wanted to pick who took them. She picked J & me. JR was apoplectic. Finally, J told him "Stop whining like a little bitch." Tweedledee and Tweedledum did end up doing the shuttle, but it was all worth it just to hear J call him out.

I've got the 4:30 shuttle tomorrow morning. The kid who didn't make his flight today is trying again tomorrow from Farmington, NM. I was headed there for my day off Sunday--guess I can scope it out and see what I think. I was supposed to have tomorrow off, but now have Monday instead. Time's getting short.

Had my "mid-summer" eval with Seth today. Next Friday is going to be cool. Apparently, we'll get evaluation forms for all sorts of things--admin, the job, each other, Deer Hill in general... Friday we'll spend debriefing, then have a sweat lodge, then a birthday celebration dinner. I hope we don't all hate each other by then.

Mesa Verde tonight, then bed ASAP!

The 9th-to-last Day

Today's big events:

I'm listening to my roomies talk about the SNAFU that was breakfast this morning. Breakfast is at 8; I showed up at 8:10 and got cereal. A lot of people were miffed that we ran out of food so fast. 2 minutes ago: J to D: "Breakfast was all f*ed up this morning" D: "Who was on it?" J:"Tweedledee and Tweedledum" Glad I'm not the only one who thinks that.

I was having a seriously psychedelic dream when the alarm went off this morning. I was supposedly at church, but people were looking and acting like they were on the Magical Mystery Tour, and Michael Jackson was there (the normal version). It was supposed to be a newer, more marketable St. John's.

Called Grandma this morning and told her I was going to Asia. The connection was so bad, I couldn't really hear anything she said. I do know she said there are a lot of people there who aren't too good. Not a surprising reaction.

Called the IRS to get my resident certificate that enables me to not pay taxes in Korea. It costs $35 and takes 45 days. (Better than the other way around, I suppose) I thought I was done with the money. And I'm supposed to have it in hand when I get there.

Manned the store for HOR to return their gear after backpacking for 18 days. Man, that place was ripe!

I was supposed to meet the SYSCO truck when it arrived this afternoon. With their usual knack for screwing up an iron ball, they showed up early this time, at the moment I finally sat down with my lunch.

Was supposed to meet with Seth for my mid-summer eval today, but never had the time. SSQ returned this afternoon, and took forever to deissue their stuff.

Another double dinner tonight. These are universally hated by staff.

Since SSQ is leaving for the mountains tomorrow, instead of the usual full-day layover in basecamp, they packed their rations tonight, and J & I are the BCP gurus. So after working a full day, we keep going from 7:30 to 9, helping 13 hyped-up kids pack mountain food. I got to give the spiel with Seth and 2 of Deer Hill's most senior field staff listening. Beforehand, I was waiting for the group in the BCP, slumped on the floor, and finally, as they started to come in, there was a thunderclap and the lights went out. The leaders brought in some camp lanterns, and we carried on. It actually made it more fun; I had not been feeling like doing this. The lights came back on just as we finished up.

D & some of the field staff went rafting in Durango today, and just returned drunk as skunks. One of the field staff was an intern in the spring, and persists in staying in the Homestead whenever he's in basecamp. Because we need another person in this shack. Apparently, he fell facefirst on a rock, and his forehead looks it. D is actually playing the role of caretaker...it's rather sweet.

No time to do what I wanted tonight, but I'm going to at least try to get a walk in. Left my headlamp in the tent, again, so I'll have to carry my Maglite around the "block", again. The moon is heading back to a phase where it's light enough, but it's been particularly overcast & stormy this week. Lots of rain at night, instead of in the afternoon when it belongs. Seth just got a new watch with a bunch of geek features, like a barometer, which he doesn't have calibrated, and which everyone has fun digging him about.

One more day 'til the weekend! My weekend matches everyone else's this time.

Silverton, stars, & counting down

It's been a rainy day for Colorado. Cloudy when I woke up this morning (with the usual dozen crickets under the rain fly--they go away during the day). Rained on me when I was hiking. Cancelled the Mesa Verde program.

I was much in the mood for the MV program tonight, and it was one I would have liked very much--astronomy (presumably the laymen's kind, of identifying stars & planets). There weren't any stars to see, though, and so I am hoping very much for clear weather next Wednesday, as it's my last chance to learn something about that which I have been very interested in all summer. Finding constellations and tying knots are 2 skills I've never aspired to much, but now feel quite motivated to. I did get some nice quiet time in the amphitheater to write postcards and read my Lonely Planet USA book. Decided it is worth going to New Mexico on my day off Sunday.

The view of Cortez, with an arch of clouds over it and the fuzz of rain coming down, all backlit by sunset, was really eye-catching on the way up Mesa Verde. Then, in the spot at the campground where deer always are, there were 4 bucks just a few feet from the road. Of course I didn't bring my camera. When I looked for it back at the Homestead, though, I found it in my backpack...which had been with me the whole time. So you'll just have to picture 4 bucks with big racks, grazing in knee-deep grass on the side of a small windy road with an unusual number of people walking up & down.

I did have to work today, and I did hike a bit. I was picking up HOR near Silverton, and the directions said to stop by an old mill and waterfall and walk the remaining 1/2 mile to the group because the road is too rough for our vehicles. Thing is, there are a lot of old mills, and they're ALL by waterfalls...that's why they're there. So when I saw one where the road narrowed, I parked and started walking. I was already late because I had very little time to make the road lunch, then, when I went up the hill to get the van, discovered that it needed gas, and the back seat was out (SO glad I realized this; getting 2 hours to the trailhead to find that we don't have room for everyone would have been a first-class disaster). Also very very glad I took my raingear with me. After about 1/2 mile, I crested a ridge and did not find our group, but could see the truck our marketing guy drove in the distance (he often meets groups for the last day or two of a section to film the goings-on). It was a ways off, but walking back to the van would have taken longer so I continued on. It started to rain. I was wearing cotton, shorts & t-shirt no less with new snow on the mountains, was long past hungry, stressed about being late, and really wanting a bathroom. Slung my rain jacket over me and my daypack and pressed on. It was exceedingly beautiful, misty with a lot of waterfalls, but no time to appreciate it.

As I got closer, the truck drove away (from me). So now, instead of walking to the real parking area, I had to walk up the hill beyond. The upside was that seeing the truck in profile confirmed that it was in fact, ours. The other upside was that I passed a latrine, so became marginally less miserable. I'm not a great one for walking uphill, let alone walking fast uphill when I'm desperately hungry. I still didn't know where the group actually was, or whether they were seething at me. At last, I encountered Richard, the marketing guy; and George, the photographer kid, walking down toward me. Rarely have I been so pleased to see anyone.

Fortunately, the group wasn't too stressed out, even when I told them I'd forgotten to bring a rig bag to secure their packs in the pickup bed. (the chips, which I'd also thought I forgot, turned out to be there after all) Richard & George drove me down to the van, which was far enough away to garner sympathy, and Cat, the leader, claimed triumphantly that she knew it was a problem with directions. After being in the backcountry for 18 days, the entire group was over the moon about sandwiches with real bread & cold cuts, and loved the egg salad Seth & I made. Even if it did start hailing once we'd spread the food all out on the tailgate of the truck. By this point, I was wearing my raingear for warmth as much as water repellancy, but lunch was a speedy affair, and I was riding in the truck (with the heat on) with Richard & George in no time.

Having a chauffeur back to Mancos was a rare treat. I never get to just admire the scenery. Silverton is really cute; all old buildings, and touristy, but not in an offensive way. Beyond town, there's all kinds of old mining relics, and a lot of hiking opportunities. Much like my summer in London, 2 months here has only revealed to me how much more there is to see. And made me a little complacent, too--once we got close to Durango (a feeling kind of like the Wayne County part of 104), I actually went to sleep.

That's probably the last time I'll be up that way for a good while. In my ever-evolving scheme, the 3 days off I figure I have left will be spent at Hovenweep, in New Mexico, and tying up loose ends. Time here is running out--I made a list of evening activities I have left to do, then tried to plug them into the calendar...and I have more activities than evenings. I'll probably only be able to talk with my 3 phone buddies once more each; maybe another time in Seattle, but it'll be tight. I actually want to spend a little time with my colleagues before I leave. We're having a 3-way birthday bash on the 7th. Each honoree gets to choose a food item to be served--I hear Seth has chosen fresh peach cobbler! Then there's all the packing, laundry, errands. Yikes!

Day in the Life--Monday

And so for the last installment of This is My Life...

6:35: Alarm. Way too early. I am woken from a sound sleep. And consequently grumpy all morning. What I really want to do is find some job that I can sit and work at in a quiet corner with nobody bothering me. Instead, I have E. singing and Mrs. Owner hovering while I try to make pancakes. We can't use the griddle because it isn't Kosher, so we've got cast iron skillets instead, which mess with the pancake mojo I've built up over the summer. The first ones are always a mess, anyway, but Mrs. Owner is fretting, so I let her do it and busy myself with pouring things out of cans. Our stock of Kosher serving dishes is limited, so I have to serve Cheerios in a colander, and be creative about everything. (I told Seth how a former employer used to torment me with the phrase "use your creativity"--in a Brooklyn accent--and he hasn't missed an opportunity to say it since)

7:40: These kids are early risers! Breakfast is at 8, but they're all lined up at the kitchen window, watching us. I do dishes--my default when there's nothing else to do.

8:10: A few stolen moments by myself in an Adirondack chair with pancakes, canned blueberries, and fresh banana.

8:20: We're cleaning up already! The kids do the dishes, but no other staff come to help, so it takes E. & me right up to 9:00 to finish.

9:00: Meeting time. Since I've brought my camera, this is the one day in 2 months that Seth does not toss his dry erase marker in the air repeatedly. He addresses me specifically, "the booze have to move forward." Huh? Oh, 'Bus. As in Malibus. As in Seth's, J's, & my cars. Why they're in the garbage truck's way today and haven't been for the last 8 weeks, I don't know. Nor do I know why guys in their 20s have to make every word a monosyllable.

9:15: Move my car forward 5'. Sit in it for a couple minutes. This is MY space. And the tire is still inflated, which makes me cautiously happy.

9:25: Clean the house bathrooms. I don't know why the counter in the girls' is always a soapy slick, but I only have to contemplate it for 2 more weeks!

9:40: The tent deissue station from yesterday was not fully put away. Dump garbage cans of water down the hill. Hose out the sand. Realize J. wasn't at the meeting and doesn't know he needs to move his 'Bu by 10. He's tending the sweat lodge fire. Has gotten into the Deer Hill spirit and leaves his keys on the seat. I get to walk back to the parking lot and move his 'Bu.

9:50: Come back to tent deissue and pick up the pile of stakes left to dry. We use plastic ones, which are horrendous to pound in, and virtually impossible to do with a foot (of course, the moister soil in the East is helpful, too). Later today, someone was discounting the quality of the stainless steel water bottles that were our staff gift this year, "and they're useless for pounding stakes."

10:00: My proximity to the shower house reminds me that it's probably pretty mangy and I am right. Whoever's Zone of Responsibility this is doesn't take much responsibility for it. Fixtures dirty, mirrors sprayed, trash overflowing, floor in desperate need of sweeping. And perenially no paper towels. I kill a good 1/2 hour remedying the situation and take a walk back to the shed to restock the toilet paper, too. Which reminds me, I need to tell someone we're almost out again. (had a bit of potential crisis in June when we realized there were something like 8 rolls in all of basecamp and it was 2 days 'till the next Sysco drop)

10:30: Stop into the BCP to snack on the gorp in Refugee Food. Clean scoops left in sink, close bins left open, wipe counter where necessary. Someone has taken the 2 jars I took out of recycling to empty yesterday and helpfully put them in the fridge. Must take care of this. Head for staff room sink to clean jars.

10:40: Staff room recycling is overflowing. Clean BCP jars, pick dirty paper towels out of recycling bucket, arrange containers so I can carry them all to the carport in one trip.

10:50: It's largely a wasted trip. Plastic and paper are both full, sealed, and on the truck to go into town. There's still room for glass and cans, though, and I can throw the cardboard on the pile in the back of the Tundra.

11:00: Take full buckets back to staff room. Continue on to River Room, where I'm motivated by a sense of progress with the repair shelf. Replace a tent zipper.

Sometime around lunch time: There is a guy in the driveway. I guess he used to work here. He just rented a bunch of our river gear and reports that there's a leak in the ducky. Seth starts to check it out. Asks me if I want to fix it. *groan* Gives me the soap spray bottle to find the hole. I have to brush all the sand and mud off first. Spray it in sections. Nothing is happening. I go to ask John how obvious the hole will be. He suggests getting it super full of air, so I attach the blower and fill it to bursting, at which point the valve starts hissing. Can it be that simple? John, ever the teacher, comes over to see how I'm doing and seizes on the valve theory. I mostly watch while he tries various wrenches, then blows soapy water in with the blower to clean out any dirt that may interfere with the seal. Voila! No more hiss. I leave it inflated for a while to make sure that's it.

12:00: I go down to the kitchen to see how lunch is faring. Amidst the bustle of preparation, Mrs. Owner pulls me aside. It looks like she has something significant to discuss. "Now, what were the seven Horcruxes?" Someone must have told her I'd know.

12:05: Sweat lunch. Usually, they have more substantial fare for us, but not today. We're all scrounging for extra stuff. Jason, Deer Hill's second-in-command, goes to get one of last night's hot dogs from the Nalgene I put them in and returns and declares my work "the best weenie package job of the summer." I want that on a certificate. Unbelievably long & involved conversation about In & Out Burgers commences.

1:10: Back to the River Room. Back to the zippers.

2:15: Panim store hit. JR & I are on it. The kids come in and stare at stuff, then leave. We're in there for about an hour, and sell one hat.

3:15: Back to the River Room. Back to the zippers.

4:30: I'm getting bored of this. Besides zippers, have sealed one seam and sewn one hole. Tents (or anything else) are supposed to be tagged with what's wrong with them, but several are not, necessitating a lengthy inspection of both tent & fly. The seam seal job was a guess, since nothing appeared to be wrong with it otherwise.

5:15: Enough tent repair. The River Room does look better, though--even G. notices, which is saying a lot! I want to go chill for a bit before dinner, but get appropriated to put tablecloths on picnic tables.

5:40: SMOE has emailed my Korea Arrival info packet. Good stuff, though not as informative as I would like.

6:00: BBQ. Instead of black bean burgers (not Kosher), there is BBQ tofu for the vegetarians-mmm! The kids go through the food like locusts. No need to find packaging for leftovers tonight. Mrs. Owner sits & chats with D, J, & me. It's enjoyable. She's indignant when the kids all walk away without carrying stuff back to the house. "Basecamp staff are not your mom & dad!" she calls after them. Only a couple come back to help.

7:00: Clean up time, but the kids are having a group photo done. Fill the sinks, sweep the mudroom, everything else is on hold. D. has hosed down the picnic tables.

7:10: Store hit for the other half of the group. Not much more productive than the first. These kids have to pay cash, instead of the accounts the regular DH groups have, so they're a lot more judicious in what they buy. Free stickers--everyone's on that.

7:30: Last call for store. Stop by the kitchen to see what needs to be finished for night crew--nothing!

Two weeks from right now, I'll be on my way to Valley of the Gods.

Disclaimer

I should say for the record that, while I kvetch about working at Deer Hill, I think their programs are fantastic and would recommend them without reservation. Unlike when I worked at Camp Arrowhead and would advise parents at every opportunity not to waste their money, I fully support (literally!) what Deer Hill does. The field leaders are great, the things they do are fun and incredible experiences, and the focus is in the right place. In that sense, I am glad to be a part of this.

Escape to Mesa Verde

So I did both--went to the Mesa Verde program and then walked in town. In 20 minutes, I covered about 1/3 of Mancos. And the obvious became so: Deer Hill is tightly wrapped. It's pretty and bucolic, so people from outside come and marvel at how lovely it all is and how great it must be to be here. Inside, though, it's fun and games slathered over a deep pool of strain, tension, and judgment. In the moments when I can unhitch from that--looking up at the stars at night, or sitting alone in an Adirondack chair after lunch--I see the loveliness. Most of the time, though, it's a heavy weight, the kind you don't notice until it lifts.

It lifts for me at Mesa Verde. I love that amphitheater, in the crisp night air, listening to stories and looking up at stars. I like to go early and sit by myself there, reading or plotting (or skating in the parking lot). Tonight, the moon was the kind they draw in children's books, and the program was about animals and the ancient Puebloans--my favorite yet. It's cold (I miss warm summer nights--they don't happen here, ever) and the benches get uncomfortable fast, but I always want to linger afterward, soaking it all up.

National Park evening programs started at Mesa Verde in 1907. Then, Jesse Fuchs, the park anthropologist, would sit around the campfire at night and discuss the day's discoveries. From there, one of the great features of our National Park system began.

Day in the Life--Sunday

Two weeks to go!!! When I say I've got 4 weeks to be in the US, it seems short, but 2 weeks here stretches endlessly in front of me.

It feels like not much happened today, but I'm sure I'll be able to write a massive tome nonetheless.

8:02: Time to get up. No group=no breakfast, so we're on our own. My tent is miraculously dry. I lay awake for quite a while last night waiting for the inevitable trickle, sure that each time the tarp snapped in the wind, a stake was coming loose and it was going to blow off. My rig held, though.

9:00: Meeting time. Seth will be meeting with one of us each day to do "mid-summer" evals. I'm last on the schedule--by the time we talk, I'll have only a week left here. Everyone updates Seth on what happened yesterday, when he was off, but since I was too, I have nothing to add. I do have some mail waiting for me, though. :) Why is it that I haven't been to a wedding in 5 years, but within 2 months of my leaving the country, the two friends I've known longest are both getting married?

9:25: Schlepping rocks in the hot sun. The sweat lodge is an ancient Navajo tradition, and something all our programs end with. As one of my zones of responsibility, I need to return the lava rocks to the fire pit after the last use, and pick up all the rocks and pointy things that wind up in the area where people walk barefoot. I start to lay out the old tarps and sleeping bags that insulate the sweat lodge, then remember that Seth said to wait until the grass dries.

9:40: The River Room. My favorite place to be. Not. Now that I've learned to replace zipper pulls, though, I can be a bit more effective. I actually fix 4 tents. It takes all morning. I am daydreamy--thinking of Idaho for some reason, and anticipating Seattle--but the real issue is that getting the new pull onto the zipper is highly frustrating. They should just slide on, but seldom do, and I've yet to figure out why.

12:15: Time to go get lunch. It's YOYO again, but there are plenty of leftovers. I am STARVING--a hazard of backpacking--and down a salad, a big plate of spaghetti and beans with avocado, some fruit, and a bit of peanut butter crack. Without any formal cleanup, the afternoon starts early.

1:20: Some AP participants bought spears when they were on the rez, and for some reason these are still in the staff room. I am assigned the task of preparing them to mail. Hmmm. I get some cardboard from the recycle pile and make a nifty mailer for the small arrow. I'm just wondering how I'll handle the 5' spears when John comes in and suggests PVC pipe. As he's returning with it, Panim pulls in. Deissue time!

2:00: This group is huge. We help the kids unpack the trailers, and I take over the tent & cooler wash station. All tents and stuff sacks need to be dipped in a garbage can with soap & water, then rinsed in one of clean water, then hung on the line to dry. Getting a dripping tent onto a clothesline is harder than it sounds. All the coolers, ammo boxes, water jugs, and sundry other eating items also need to be scrubbed and hosed. Fortunately, we have a lot of help. It's hot and the kids have fun splashing and squirting each other.

3:10: Deissue is winding down. I don't want to abandon them, but I'm not really doing much. I take the recycling to the carport, where I am promptly trapped there by a downpour. I stand and wait it out--the recycling bins in there are full anyway, so I'll have to sort the stuff outside.

3:20: Dig through nasty recycling bin. Why don't people empty their drinks before throwing them in? Why is there stuff in here that isn't recyclable? Need to wash my hands, pronto. I do so in the BCP, where E. alerts me to and influx of good stuff in the Refugee Food Bin.

3:50: Back to the spears. John has found a cardboard tube as well, so I carefully pack the artifacts for mailing. I hope they make it in one piece.

4:40: Time for some random projects. Finally finish the paper recycling sign I was making for that can last week. A trash bin in the carport would help, too, giving people an alternative to putting garbage in the paper pile. Since we aren't allowed to park cars in the carport any more (3 bangups earlier this year), groups pack in there all the time now, and there's always garbage around. Seth helps me find a can to put up there. He jokes around a bit...he's much lighter lately. He also tells me that the softball team that everyone around here seems to be on won their game at 3, so they'll be in the championship at 6 tonight, so D. will want to go watch, so I'll need to switch dinner for night crew with him. Night crew sucks.

5:10: Since I'm not doing dinner, I putter for a few minutes. Tidy & sweep the River Room. Pick up some detritus outside the shed. Score some dried pineapple and chocolate raisins from Refugee food.

5:20: Relax a bit and email some before dinner. I feel a little guilty, but J. is here watching tv, too.

5:55: D. comes in and says that was the easiest dinner prep ever. We're all kosher, since Panim is a Jewish group, which makes meal prep weird. We have to use different dishes, equipment, everything.

6:00: Dinner. Corn on the cob!!! I'd forgotten about that. And pound cake with fresh berries for dessert. Nice.

6:50: Kids are doing dishes. J. & I are night crew. I rarely do night crew with him, but he & D. are my favorite co-workers. He actually sweeps and cleans out the sink, 2 things that are usually relegated to me. Putting away food seems to take forever. We have to use the kosher containers, a lot of which are Nalgenes, so J. drops half corncobs into one while I fit weenies into another. One of the kids wipes the tables. Wow. We're done by 7:30. Woohoo!

So the question now is, do I walk in Mancos or go to Mesa Verde for my entertainment tonight? I'll have to leave within 5 minutes, but I'm still not sure.

Days Off in the Life--Friday and Saturday at Blue Lakes

I feel like watching the Sound of Music. Backpacked in the Uncompahgre National Forest, Mt. Sneffels Wilderness (got it wrong on the postcards I sent), and it was stunning. Like scenery everywhere, photos galore, you have to see it to believe it kind of thing. There's a reason they're called the ROCKY mountains, but I felt like I was in the Alps. Lots of crags and snow (though not on the trail). The hike in was hellish (3 1/2 miles uphill with a full pack), but frequent scenery saved it. I was surrounded by mountains, and every time I came to another break in the trees, I was getting a different and very intimate view of them. The wildflowers are in abundance, too. I never knew there were so many different kinds. I could do an entire calendar, probably for a couple years, with pictures of wildflowers. Giant queen annes' lace, pencil-eraser size buttercups, purple daisies...and columbines. Those are really exquisite. I don't know if photos can do justice to the sun shining over a flowery meadow sloping toward a cerulean lake with a jagged peak rising behind. The scenery I saw today would make you get religion.

I also saw a bear. He was colored just like an elk, but when he walked, there was nothing else he could be. He was way up on the mountain, but I was jumpy the whole time. Nobody came for my bear bag, though. I don't think I hung it in an exemplary fashion, but it was effective enough. Saw a couple of boy deer when I was way up high. They were sleeping all splayed like a chalk outline, but got alert when they noticed me. I moved along to leave them in peace. There were also a ton of chipmunks. Alpine chipmunks are tiny, like mice.

So yeah, hiking in was a trial, but the rewards were immediate. Blue Lake (the lower) is a rich, baby blue, and nestled at the bottom of a mountain basin, fed by a waterfall that winds down the mountain like hair. It has a rocky beach, which made an excellent spot for cooking (and I worked my JetBoil all by myself, and am so enamored of it I would gladly do testimonials if they wanted me to). Half of the lake is surrounded by forest, perfect for camping. I got a nice spot under a pine tree, where I could look out of the tent at the lake or the stars. There were enough other people there to make me feel secure, but not enough that I noticed them.

Today, I climbed to the upper lakes. It was another significant elevation change (I did about 3000' altogether), but a shorter hike, and I left the tent and half the contents of my pack behind, so was only slightly miserable. The piney part reminded me of the Adirondacks, the scree part of Gros Morne. There was a musky, poopy smell that at first I feared was bears, but if it was, they stayed hidden. Walking across the waterfall would have been a highlight of any other hike, but this wasn't like any other hike. The upper lakes are above tree line, right at the base of the mountains (in fact, if you want to scale the ridge, you can get to a pass, but I didn't see the need for that much masochism). These lakes are also an improbable blue, still and serene amidst the wildflowers and patches of snow. My guidebook page tipped me off to another, still higher, lake, and though the trail was busy, nobody at all was up there. Except the deer. I wrote some postcards, ate lunch, filtered water from the lake to refill my Nalgene. I had gray mountains on the left, red ones on the right, and stripey ones straight ahead. I also could see to another range, probably near Montrose. It was so wonderful. "Climb Ev'ry Mountain" kept running through my head (that and "Cinnamon Girl" because a lady who also saw the bear kept calling him a cinnamon bear). All the places I had felt like I would never reach were now a long way down. Even the upper lakes trail was tiny in the distance. The long, long waterfall that filled the lower lake was completely below me. I took pictures of the speck that was my camp.

I wanted to stay for a week. I had to pry myself away, but I did at exactly the right time, because it started raining as soon as I got back to the tent. (I borrowed this tent from a colleague, as mine is too full to take up and down, and the Deer Hill one I've appropriated is too big to sensibly backpack with) My first thought was to hang out and wait for the rain to stop (it almost always does here). I lay back on my Thermarest and read the '93 National Geographic I'd brought--an article about life at the Tower of London (the beefeaters actually live there). It was an agreeable way to pass the time, until I noticed that my elbow seemed damp. Rain was now seeping through the bottom of the tent--a look outside revealed my very own lake forming where the rain fly and tree above simultaneously ran off. Change of plans--pack everything up while it's still dry and hike out in rain gear.

That mostly worked. The tent is a muddy mess, though. I decided not to put it in with the dry stuff, but to carry it between the main & top parts of my pack. Inexplicably, though, the poles are too long for the stuff sack. They stretched and chafed at my brand new pack cover and made it gap around other things. Then I noticed the hole in their bag, so the stakes would drop out as I walked. I could just pack them the way I'd originally intended, but that would require opening everything up in the increasingly heavy rain, and they were now wet & muddy enough to soil the other contents. So, as hail pelted my exposed hands, I decided to carry them, clutching the bag upside down by the holey part. Mentally singing the "Hole in the Bucket" song, I picked my way through the mud and forded the river that the trail had become. The hail filled the puddles like so much styrofoam and made them look solid.

This was all the perfect cure for not wanting to leave. Since it's Colorado, the sun was out by the time I was halfway down, but I was still damp around the edges, and taking off my rain pants was a bigger production than I was willing to invest in. My hands were too full to reach for my water bottle, so I was thirsty all the way, the wet hiking poles rubbed at the wet blister that's healing on my left hand, and 3 miles of passing the tent poles back and forth got old fast, especially since they interfered with my already precarious balance.

I'm glad I took a ton of pictures on the way up, because I took exactly zero coming down. I was so done by the time I got to the car...and found that the tire I had patched a couple weeks ago was very soft again. Portable compressor to the rescue!

The day was put back on the right track by a visit to Ouray on the way "home". Ouray, the "Switzerland of America", is like Venice--totally touristy, but charming enough that you don't care. Like Venice, you can stand on the main drag and take pictures without looking like a prat. The buildings are historic (and the ones that aren't have dates on them anyway), the mountains are very close at hand, and the atmosphere is congenial. There's even a grocery store right on Main Street. I ate at Thai night at the deli. Usually on these trips, I look at the restaurants trying to find a reason not to buy anything, but I'd been thinking I haven't had tofu in a long time, so when the woman said I could have tofu pad thai, I was sold. I even got to sit on the front porch and eat. It was like being normal.

The Million Dollar Highway was quite wonderful, too, both going and returning. I love the swirly "Red Mountain" that's had all its minerals exposed by miners so they've oxidized and made quite a palatte of it. There are old mining buildings all around, too, and vistas galore. Ouray and Durango are about as far apart as Buffalo and Rochester, but it takes 3 hours to make the trip. It's one pass after another--gorgeous but not very expedient. The mountains at dusk have their own magic.

I'm hungry again. It's a hazard of backpacking. My hips are tender from the pack strap, my knee is grumpy, and the dirt under my fingernails threatens permanence. It was a phenomenal experience.

It's also very late, and I have to work tomorrow, so check back for photos. I have tons!

Day in the Life--Thursday

Going to Moab is getting to be like going to the Country House. Same distance. Same kind of roads. VERY different scenery. But familiar, in a half-comforting, half-exasperating sort of way. Now, (Mom and Dad), imagine driving there in the convertible. Towing a trailer.

7:17: Alarm! Hit the ground running. Need to shower and pack my stuff, then eat and pack SSQ's stuff.

8:00: Breakfast of birchenmuesli. I love this one, though without the side of hard-boiled eggs, it's a bit sugary. They serve bagels and English muffins instead, with the condiments I prepared yesterday for the SSQ resupply.

8:30: Packing coolers. Fortunately, more ice has solidified overnight. There is a ton of food to pack yet. We decide we need a bigger cooler, I go to get one, carry (and drag) it back to the kitchen, never mind, it all fits. Quickly discover why the guys are miffed with E. for being bossy. Leave her to finish and go find something else to do to save my sanity.

9:00: Trying to remember details. Sunglasses for portable store. Paperwork from the office. Get Seth's credit card. Does the cassette player in the Blue Whale work, and does the steering always grind like it did when I went to the P&D the other day? JR has decided not to set out the sack lunch for RMA, so I need to improvise my own. Thank god for leftover pizza.

9:40: Repacking the trailer to accommodate all the extra coolers. Need to leave E. to it again. She knows best. Pack watermelons. Ice pack or real ice for water jug? Oh yeah, fill my own Nalgenes, too.

10:15: On-time departure! This never happens!

10:20: Gas up at Cox's Conoco. It's a zoo. Hard to maneuver for a pump with trailer attached. I fight with the Blue Whale's crappy aftermarket radio while I wait. The buttons don't appear to do anything useful, but it doesn't seem to eat the tapes. Remember at the last minute to write down mileage because the gas gauge doesn't work.

10:30: Bound for Cortez, eating cherries from Monday, with my own mix tape playing and nobody else in the truck. I'm getting used to the boat-like steering. Life is good.

Sometime (the Blue Whale has no clock, and nor do I): drive past the massive junk yard north of Cortez, where the cars aren't stacked, but arrayed in lines in a field like a carnival parking lot. Cars of every make, style, and era, in varying states of decay. I notice a '50s Cadillac hearse. I'll have to take a bunch of pictures when I go to Hovenweep.

12:30: Stop at the Texaco in Monticello, UT. Eat, chat, move on.

1:40ish: Get ice at City Market in Moab. Appreciate the self-checkout.

2:00?: Pull up at the take-out. We've arrived before the group! Juggle vehicles, attach trailers.

2:20: I get 5 minutes to sit on a rock with my feet in the Colorado River. The best part of the day. We can see the group coming down the river.

2:25: The first of our boats pulls up. I go and bring down the canoe trailer (I backed it up expertly!). 2 hours of chaos begins. We have 2 rafts and 7 canoes to unload, a truck & trailer to pack, rafts to deflate and fold, canoes to lash down. Moab is hellishly hot and there isn't a cloud to be seen. I drink a liter of water just while we're there. Loading stuff is difficult because everything sears your flesh when you touch it. Water has to be poured on the tables to pick them up at all. Even the plastic oars are hard to hold for more than a few seconds. I get to practice my climbing moves tying down the canoes at the top of the stack. E. is very particular about how things get strapped. I decide that even though he doesn't talk much, J. is my favorite shuttle partner because he does his job AND he doesn't do mine.

4:30ish: Scene change to Moab community park. The kids can have their road dinner and do the "duffel shuffle" (emptying dry bags, packing duffels we brought, sending laundry back) where there are grass and trees, and take showers at the pool house. We can't find the screwdriver needed to open the Blue Whale's back door, so I get to revisit 1983 and climb over the back seat to retrieve the rolls and cookies ("peanut butter crack") for dinner. I set up the portable store, laying things out on a ground cloth. The kids want to do major shopping. I have to remind them that this is just what they can't do without until they return to basecamp in a few days. They crowd around for a long time. Finally, I yell "last call". Naturally, 1/2 hour later, when everything is put away, a kid tells me he needs sunglasses. We need to empty kitchen items from dry boxes (for the river) to action packers (like coolers, but not insulated), make sure everything in the Blue Whale is for the Rez and everything for basecamp is in the pickup, and get the kids something to eat. Both containers of pasta salad also contain chicken.

6:30: E. and I are finally excused. It's a shame to leave Moab because I probably won't be back soon--this is our last river takeout of the season. Truck seats are wet because E. & Program Leader jumped in the river while I was driving the BW to the park. Ground cloth from the portable store saves the day. I need food, but this is a tourist town and all the restaurants are swanky and/or kitschy, and expensive. I have petty cash for this, but the idea is not to finance our fine dining. I've OD'd on pizza lately, but a little Mexican stand would be nice. Finally, with guilty conscience, I spend $9 on a veggie burger. Consider ice cream (out of my pocket), but decide against it, and E. isn't down with that anyway.

7:17: We're on the road. E. is driving so I can eat my burger, but she's uncomfortable with the size of the rig. The red rocks are quite fetching in the sinking sunlight.

8:00: Stop at the Texaco in Monticello again. I wanted a popsicle, but finishing the cherries scratched that itch. I'm desperate for something cold. Morally opposed to buying water, but decide that if I buy a slushie, I'll still have plastic to throw out at the end, and I won't feel as good as with water. Leave with Aquafina. I'm driving now.

Next 2 hours: Long conversation with E. about co-workers, supervisors, field staff, Deer Hill in general. Interns definitely need field training. Working here is like being married to an alcoholic. Fiery sunset in the west.

9:50: Return to Cox's Conoco. I'm freezing standing at the pump. It's always one or the other. Truck is temperamental about filling up...the pump keeps shutting off. Get it most of the way full.

10:04: Basecamp. Consider unloading food, but decide it'll be cool enough at night. Seth can't put me on breakfast tomorrow like he did last time I got back late because I'm off tomorrow, and there's no breakfast anyway. Label credit card receipts, reconcile petty cash.

10:14: My time at last. Pick & pry spilled gorp off bottom of backpack, look at stars, retreat to tent.

Day in the Life--Wednesday

Today was nice. Real work to do, and only D. and J. and me in basecamp again. If it had just been the 3 of us all summer, I think the dynamics would have been very different.

7:43: Time to get up. I'm not doing breakfast today, so I get an additional 80 minutes of sleep, which makes a big difference. Someone's in the bathroom, which gives me a few minutes to gather my wits. Breakfast is scrambled eggs...and cake. This is a strange habit here that does nothing for my health. Especially since the cake has fresh strawberries on it. I help clean up a bit, then sneak back to the Homestead to look up the number for the Korean Consulate in San Francisco. If I don't get this done today, it won't happen until next week.

9:00: Meeting time. I wanted the Cortez run this morning, but J. gets that. I'm assigned the RMA store hit and BCP raid, plus packing for the SSQ resupply tomorrow. Plus lunch and dinner.

9:15: I try to call the Korean Consulate. They do in fact open at 9:00 Pacific, so I get a recorded message. The first minute is solely in Korean, and so quiet it takes me almost that long to tell. I almost hang up, but they finally switch to English.

9:20: Tidying the house bathrooms and sweeping.

9:30: Check on the ducky I patched yesterday. The patch is stuck fast, but the edge seems too prominent. I call in Seth for a second opinion. He picks at it, pumps up the ducky and sprays the patch. No bubbles. I get to roll & tie it up and lug it back to the storage area and put away all the tools. JR is gathering PFDs and begs me to switch my dinner shift for his night crew. I hate night crew, but I've also been in the position of wanting to do something in the evening. I tell him if he gets back from his airport run in time, we'll talk.

9:50: All the rain jackets and stuff sacks that got washed yesterday were taken off the line by a program leader concerned about the wind. They're all piled in the River Room. Some are still wet. I need to sort them, hang up the wet ones, and put the others in their rightful places in the store.

10:10 I try the Consulate again. I can barely hear the woman, but I do get a list of what I need to send--it's mercifully short and full of stuff I already have.

10:30: I go up to the office to print/copy the documents I need to get my Korean visa.

10:50: I start to make a sign for the paper recycling can because I'm sick of picking trash out of it. I get as far as selecting the materials and writing "Paper" before I hear RMA gathering at the store.

10:55: Store hit! RMA is going backpacking, so we need to outfit the kids with rental equipment and merchandise. I love working with the kids; I hate fitting backpacks. Mostly because I really don't know what I'm doing. I give them ones that look ok and go around their waist at the right place; other than that, the leaders will have to make necessary adjustments. Funny questions about gaiters and pack covers make me realize that the kids don't always know what I'm handing them. After the kids have what they need, we restock the mugs and sunscreens, but at this point in the season, the sunglasses are gone and the Clif Bars are picked over.

12:20: Lunch. Tomato soup. General consensus is that this is the least favorite lunch on the menu. And we have it a lot. I figure this will make it easier to lighten up on the food. Some cornbread (the season's best today), salad with avocado, strawberry shortcake, and that'll be it. I've just taken seconds on the cornbread when Diane shows me some melts she made with leftover veggie burgers, quesadillas, and tomato slices. So much for light lunch.

1:3o: Backcountry Pantry. RMA is packing their mountain rations. J. & I are supervising. I give the explanatory talk to the kids. How to read the quantity charts. Don't cross-contaminate the food. Don't graze. Measure carefully. After last time, I realize I need to explain how to read the scales, too. These kids listen much better than the last group. I circulate & answer questions, find items. We need Nalgenes from the kitchen. I walk down there to get them and the rains come. I have to wait several minutes before I'm willing to go back. Some quantities of couscous and curry lentil soup are missing...I go to inquire about this...mass confusion...finally one of the leaders shows up and sorts it out. The group is helpful and earnest, but the BCP still looks like there was a food fight. Fortunately, the leaders are orchestrating cleanup.

3:00: Time to pack for the SSQ resupply tomorrow. D. has been doing this while I was in the BCP. Duffels are packed, and he's gathered all the service tools, for which I'm glad 'cause I hate doing that. We get the tools strapped to the trailer and set about gathering the other stuff. This group is going to subdivide at the reservation, which creates a bunch of confusion over food needs...basically they need 3 of each kitchen item. There's food in the kitchen freezers, the BCP fridge, and in dry boxes they already packed. They need propane. They need 5 ammo boxes. They need cash from the storage locker. They DON'T need a groover.

4:10: Seth notices a couple of coolers that came back from SWJ yesterday that still have some stuff in them. We interrupt packing to wash the Nalgenes, take the ice jugs back to the kitchen, and hose out the coolers.

4:20: Cart coolers down to the kitchen to pack freezer items. The freezer seems to be struggling and so we struggle to find ice jugs that are frozen. Then we struggle to find the food...Mrs. Owner has rearranged the chest freezers since this group packed, and their supply box is at the very bottom of the ice jug freezer--we almost miss it. We unload all the jugs, and then have to unpack the box item by item because it's frozen to the bottom of the chest. Dolly it all back up the hill to the trailer, then go to get the dry boxes from the BCP. D. & I haul one--my arms are longer by the time it's loaded. We go back to get the other one. I can't lift it. The guys can hardly lift it. It takes 3 of them to get it on the trailer. No idea how we'll get it back off.

5:00 I'm supposed to be on dinner. It's pizza, and Diane has it well in hand, so I spend the time collecting the food I'll need for SSQ's road dinner and breakfast. It's all been made, but I need to assemble it and gather condiments. I also need to make sure I haven't forgotten anything, and that I have a grocery list of things we're supposed to have and don't. Panim's resupply earlier this week was a disaster, with 2 food boxes left behind...I'm determined that this won't happen on my watch.

5:45: It's early for dinner, but we're ready, so we ring the bell. Diane has made 2 special pizzas for the staff, and we all gather around the oven greedily. AP has gone home, which means the atmosphere is much more peaceful, and staff can resume eating in the Adirondack chairs outside.
The middle schoolers debate the existence of God inside, while we tease and quote movies outdoors.

6:45: I'm not on night crew, and cleanup is well in hand, so I can go back to the Homestead early. I need to pack and get organized for my backpacking trip this weekend. I feel like being outside, but this needs to happen now.

8:35: I go to the River Room to get a stuff sack and some stakes and cord, then up to my tent early. Wonder of wonders, I actually erect a tarp over my tent to protect it from the sun, something I should have done a month ago and have been meaning to do on a daily basis. I use 2 stakes and 2 trees, and tie all the knots in figure 8s because that's the only secure knot I know. I'll have to pound the stakes in more with a mallet, but this job is actually done!

9:07: I'm in my tent. I hear Sylvie the cat meowing and consider going down to her, but don't. It's an early night. Doesn't happen often.

Day in the Life--Tuesday

We talk a lot around here about all the different crazy things we do in the course of a day, and what the list would look like if we wrote down everything we did, etc, etc. Today I decided to take some photos of what I do, and it occurred to me tonight to do a week of Day in the Lifes. If I'd thought of it earlier, I would have taken more photos today--pancakes lined up on the griddle would have spoken nicely--but we'll see how this goes. I may need a little license later in the week when I finally get some days off, but we'll start with good intentions.

Tuesday (not that it matters) at Deer Hill:
6:20: alarm goes off I'm totally out. Put my sweatshirt on to walk to the Homestead because it's much colder now than it will be in an hour. The Homestead is hopping--unusual at this hour--because 2 of us are on breakfast and 2 more have to sit at the end of the driveway waiting for the Sysco truck that was due yesterday.

7:00: report for breakfast Mrs. Owner is in Durango today, so D. & I are on our own. Most of the stuff she told us to serve is expected in the still-tardy Sysco order, so we improvise a lot. I make 50 or so pancakes--only 1 group in basecamp this morning, and a handful of staff.

8:00: kids come in So does Sysco. Just at the point I would have sat down to eat pancakes, I help put food away instead. I've been eating the broken ones anyway. Since this is an in-house group, they do the dishes, while I help wipe surfaces, sweep, put leftovers away.

9:00: Daily basecamp meeting. Seth goes over what needs to be done today and assigns specific people to be responsible. 3 folks will be doing shuttles to Utah, 3 of us will have to handle everything else around here.

9:30: Set off to check "ZOR"s--Zones of Responsibility. Mine are the house, the Backcountry Pantry, the River Room, and the Sweat Lodge. House--take out bathroom trash, wipe sink/counter, sweep. BCP--floor is a mess...sweep. River Room--always a mess. Try to fix sleeping bag kid turned in yesterday...discover it's fine. Scoff at tag on one tent claiming broken poles...it's just missing the convenience cord that holds the segments together, but is perfectly functional. Sweep River Room.

10:15: Start my project for today...making "cases" for satellite phones out of an old sleeping pad. I was reluctant to volunteer for this, but find I quite enjoy it. I get to slice up the pad and duct tape it into a phone cozy. I go crazy with this and make insulaters for my Nalgene bottles, too. Some of this happens in the afternoon, though, because...

10:45: Store hit. Kids back from mountains and going home tomorrow want merchandise; I sell a lot of t-shirts and hats. I'm supposed to have help, but G. just comes in and fools around while I deal with kids. I like jobs like this, where I get to work directly with the participants. When everyone's gotten all the Clif Bars they need, I clean up and sweep (I do a lot of sweeping). The floor looks like everyone's shaken out their incoming gear.

11:30: Getting out of the store, I'm late for lunch prep, but the kids are doing a sweat lodge this afternoon, so they're only having salad, rolls, and fruit anyway. Diane, the cook, has made peanut butter bars for the staff, which we eat ridiculous amounts of while tearing lettuce. Staff gets to eat a real lunch at 12:30. It's just leftovers, but it's a helluva spread. Way too much, in fact. We joke around, then clean it all up. I have time to finish my phone cozies.

2:00: One of the duckies has a hole in it. Seth shows me how to mix the glue, apply 2 coats, then heat it and patch it. I leave it under a rock to dry and will have to check on it tomorrow. I get a few moments' peace in the carport while waiting for the glue to dry.

3:00: RMA is back! A group of middle schoolers, they're done with service and doing a layover at basecamp before going to the mountains. They've got a ton of gear to deissue. Service means tools, and, since the reservations are so hot, usually all the food is spoiled. I help empty the coolers and put salvageable food away. The girl I'm working with is eager to push the wheelbarrow. We have to make a couple trips to the kitchen to return the unused canned goods and condiments, and put the ice jugs back in the freezer.

4:00: I leave RMA to finish up while I make a P&D run for Diane. They take it on faith when I say to put in on the Deer Hill account, but who else would buy 6 cartons of eggs, 5 packages of French bread rolls, 4 bags of pepperoni, and 2 watermelons? It's such a small store and we need such huge quantities, we frequently clean them out of odd items. I load it all in the "Blue Whale", our '91 Suburban, and bring it back to the kitchen.

5:00: Dinner prep. Complicated tonight because AP is having their bye-bye barbecue, but RMA isn't. One dinner outside, one in the house. The kitchen is a zoo. I chop tomatoes, array cheese, put out picnic tablecloths, and gather items to carry down to the picnic area. This all takes forever.

6:15: Dinner is finally served. One of the program leaders is apoplectic because the food varies a bit from the "traditional" Deer Hill barbecue. This happens a lot. She placates herself by finding some tortilla chips to add to the spread. The kids crowd around these instead of helping to bring food down.

6:30: Staff are just digging in. One of the office staff has brought her kids to join us, and we're having a great time. Unfortunately, the AP kids are just about done eating, so we need to trek back up to the house and bring out the ice cream. Mr. Owner has come out by this time to watch us carefully and point out every mistake or oversight. Program Leader is beside herself because, even though the kids have ice cream and chocolate cake, there's no chocolate syrup or almonds. Must go to the house and locate these items. Nobody eats the almonds.

7:15: Clean-up time. The 3 of us who are here today are responsible for everything, but we get a lot of help from all (or most) present. TONS of food to put away, and everything needs to be spic-and-span to start over tomorrow. A few kids have decided to have a cake fight, so there's whipped cream all over the floor. I get outside for a while, cleaning and folding picnic tablecloths. D. mops, which means I don't have to. This hasn't happened to me on night crew in a long time. I stick around and find stuff to do until he's done because I hate being the last person working.

8:05: Dodging sprinklers and portable horse corral, I take the garbage to the dumpster. Done! Now do I relax or get out of here.

8:30: Cutting it close, but I head to Mesa Verde to catch the Tuesday program. This guy's actually got pictures to go with his talk. The topic is what the Ancestral Puebloans ate. Lots of corn. And eggs from their turkeys. I think this talk was the most interesting so far. I sit in the parking lot for a bit afterwards to plan my upcoming backpacking weekend in peace.

10:30: Back at Deer Hill. I should go to bed, but I want to blog first. Have to upload some photos.

11:36: Finishing blog post. Need to get ready for bed and walk up to my tent. Hoping to get a bit of Bryson read tonight. Tomorrow looms.

A Boring Post

For the one or two of you who get antsy when I don't write anything, here are some random notes on recent days. I've only had 3 days off this month, so there hasn't been a lot interesting to talk about. Deer Hill politics aren't that interesting, and that's what my life has been full of. I'm gearing up for a backpacking trip Friday & Saturday, though! Not many days off left! I don't think New Mexico is going to happen, which is unfortunate since I just remembered seeing a Nature program about a guy there who keeps skunks. I have 3 weeks left here! Besides going back to Ouray and hiking near there, I intend to hike around Hovenweep, go to New Mexico if I can, and if there are any other days, skate in Durango or hike near Telluride. Maybe get a 14er, but I'm not feeling that driven about it.

After I blogged the other day, I went to Mesa Verde and did the 8-mile Prater Ridge Trail (started at 4pm, which sounds nuts, but it worked), then stayed for the ranger program at 9. I should have been doing this sooner. They have a different one for each day of the week, so I need to go 5 more times (I went Saturday, too). It's only recently occurred to me that I can do stuff in the evening. I feel too tired, but if I get out of here, I get more energy. My Parks pass means I can go to Mesa Verde and hang out (or skate in the amphitheater parking lot!) without it costing anything. Tonight I finally hiked up toward Flint Rock (but not all the way to the top), and saw a killer sunset from a high point in the Deer Hill universe. There was a pretty large animal track up there, but we're having a hard time identifying it. The difference between a mountain lion and a bear is not much in soft dirt.

I need to remember this in Korea. It's taken me 4-6 weeks to feel comfortable here, and to feel at home enough to start reaching out, branching out. I need to keep that in mind when I'm feeling out of sorts at the beginning of my time in Seoul. Eventually I will come into my own again and rediscover volition. Only 3 weeks left here, and I'm just getting in front of the beat enough to initiate projects. But it doesn't matter any more. At least in Korea, I'll have enough time to settle in. At least in Korea I'll have weekends.

All the groups are in the field now (ok, all but 1), so days at basecamp either involve shuttles or real behind-the-scenes work. Yesterday, I got to drive to Vallecito again to drop off rations for one of our groups--I left the stuff at a horse corral, where they will strap it to horses and ride in to meet the group tomorrow. Vallecito is a reservoir big enough for boating, with a quiet, resorty feel. It's cute, quiet, and mountainous. I like it a lot. Like a Rocky Mountain Adirondacks. Today, I used a scythe in the hot sun, then took my blisters to the shade to stain picnic tables. Tomorrow, I'm taking the last group to Utah to put canoes in north of Moab. I can't wait. I hope I get a few more shuttles before I go.

Each night, I plan what I'll be doing a month from today. Tonight I need to look up Mt. St. Helens.

Not much time to read here. I'm so tired at night and it's always not long until morning again. I'm slogging through Bill Bryson's A Brief History of Everything (or whatever it's called). It's my 2nd attempt and it's going only slightly better than the first. I started it July 1, and thought I could absolutely finish by August. I just passed page 100 (out of almost 500). I'm probably going to have to send it home unfinished. Maybe I'll aim for halfway. Had planned to read The Time Machine, and something by T.C. Boyle this summer, but it's not looking good. Which is ok I guess because the library in Cortez doesn't have them anyway. I wonder if they have Alexander McCall Smith in Korea.

Aaaahhhhhhh....

The push is over. We've got 5 groups in the field, 2 who've been and gone already (4 if you count Waldorf), and 2 yet to arrive. I've just worked 7 days in a row; the last 5 were insane. I didn't realize how much psychic space everyone was taking up until I got back from yesterday's shuttle. All through Tuesday and Wednesday morning, I was *this* close to falling to pieces at any given moment. I assumed it was just exhaustion. But when I got back from Sharkstooth yesterday (they tried to take that shuttle away from me, but I plead insanity and got it back), the difference was palpable, and the extreme stress was gone. If I had been simply tired, I should still have been, especially since there was still part of a group here, and we still had to clean up after them. But I could feel my soul expanding, and realized that the compression I was feeling was not just a lot of work, it was simply too many people about. Now basecamp is quiet, and I can sit on the palapa without the chance of being driven out by a group doing circle or setting up camp here. Nobody is asking me questions, I'm not trying to remember to do 40 things (well, I am, but they're things for my own benefit). Plus, the snacks-and-coffee routine for the teachers is over, and I can go back to getting involved in tasks rather than just picking up garbage and playing gofer in my fragmented moments of availability. For 2 weeks, I've been listening to "Oh it's so nice here!" "You must love it!" "I wish I could stay here all summer" I don't deny that I'm lucky to be here, but it's hard to keep that top of mind at times, and all I could do with the teachers was smile wanly and agree that sure, it's lovely. Today I can see what they mean.

Yesterday, I went off-roading in an Econoline with 14 passengers, plus a pickup trailer. I was taking a group to the Sharkstooth Trailhead, 15 miles out of Mancos, but a 1 1/2 hour trip. I had been partway up the road before, and knew it was dirt, but when Travis, one of the leaders, pointed out the turn for the last 3 miles, I asked if this was a practical joke. The road was the type you see in Chevy's "Like a Rock" commercials--pitched, uneven, full of pointy stones and water-filled washes. But they were entirely serious, so we trundled along it at a pace that didn't register on the speedometer. Going up one steep hill, we got stuck and stalled, and Caroline, another leader, told me I had to drive faster. So I bumped it up to 5mph, and we promptly got a flat tire. Not just flat. Decimated. And the road was so uneven and our speed so low that we only noticed it because Caroline wanted to stop for a potty break. I don't know how far we went on it, but the hubcap was only about 20 yards back, so I'm hoping that was where it happened. So in extreme dust and flies, we changed a tire in the middle of the road, turned van and trailer around, and the group decided to just start hiking from there. Nobody at basecamp seemed too surprised or upset, as well they oughtn't be because that road is ridiculous for that type of vehicle. Flat tire changing was a key part of our intern orientation, but I think I'm the only one who's put it into practice. All in all, it was a rather diverting adventure.

Yesterday's other big event was that 4 of us interns went into Cortez to see Harry Potter. I had intended to wait until Friday, but everyone was going, and the idea of getting out of basecamp and making my day off start early appealed, so I went. The movie was fun, it was ok, but probably the least satisfying of any for readers of the books. It wasn't so much based on the book as based on a bullet list of plot points, some of them shoehorned awkwardly into passing dialogue. Harry and Ginny hooked up (sort of), Harry and Dumbledore checked out a couple of memories and went to a cave (made out of black glass Legos and with water filled with Gollum clones instead of Inferi), Snape did the dastardly deed, and oh by the way, Lupin and Tonks are on a pet-name basis. And Harry's allowed to roam London alone, he & Ginny did an M. Night Shyamalan, Children-of-the-Corn sort of showdown with Death Eaters, and the Weasleys' house got immolated on Christmas Eve. And hope you enjoyed it because the end of the movie had no climax. The cave and Astronomy Tower scenes in the book were taut, fraught, page turners. In the movie, they were subdued and emotionless. I understand that the movie can't follow the book precisely (the Voldemort edition of This Is Your Life would be feature-length all by itself), but a lot of the changes were either totally gratuitous (the house burnings were just thrown in there for the hell of it) or maudlin and manufactured (Dumbledore's dead! Hold up your lighters, kids!) I understand that time and intelligence constraints require removing the meaning from every scene (Snape's critical "Don't call me coward!" moment was rendered so insignificant, I'm not sure it actually happened), but the lack of understanding of the characters' subtleties continues to annoy me. A minor itch is Lupin being outwardly emo, instead of the careful calm I love so much. But why does nobody "get" Dumbledore? When he says he likes knitting patterns, he's being wry, not daft. So instead of drily explaining why he's been so long in the loo, now he's stealing Muggle magazines? Come on! Like the 5th movie, this one had a couple of lines that were humorous and clever, but unlike the 5th movie, this one disappointed, with more faults and oversights than understanding.

One More Month

One month from today, I leave for...well, everywhere else. My last day of work is August 10, and I figured to drive to Salt Lake City on the 11th, but it's a long way and there's a lot to do, so if I can cut off 2-3 hours the night before, that would help a lot. Which means I need to start packing in about 3 weeks. The summer is really flying! I don't want to wish my life away, as Grandma always warns against, especially not the summer, my absolute favorite time of year, but I am looking forward to hitting the road again.

Do I hate it here? No. I wouldn't even say I'm unhappy. I could do with a bit less Deer Hill, and I doubt I'll cry when I go, but I am glad I did this. The Waldorf conferences have been a treat, and I'm eager to start doing shuttles again when they're over (as point person, I can't just go trotting off to Sand Island for the day). We're starting our busiest week of the summer--I'll be working at least 7 days straight--with groups arriving daily and cycling through basecamp duties. My stamina's flagging a bit, things are getting intense with my colleagues, but in 6 weeks, I'll probably be longing for the ease and comforts of Deer Hill.

I got word from the recruiter in Korea that my documents were received today, and they check out, so they'll next go to the Seoul Ministry of Education. If they like them, it's time to apply for a visa! I keep reminding myself that being here is just ramping up for Korea. I may not be having the time of my life or building lasting friendships, but I can speak easily to anyone I meet; I know how to bank, get groceries, and use public restrooms; my car is here, that comforting and useful friend that I can have regular adventures with for just a little longer; and there are a million other details I haven't even realized I need to appreciate. I've left my favorite people and places behind already, but in a greater sense, I'm still home. The post office is the same, the electricity is the same, the signs in the National Parks are that reliable government brown, I still need my road atlas, and though people may notice my license plates, I attract no attention whatsoever. Things are about to get a whole lot weirder.

Already it's time to be thinking of what I want to do before I leave. There was all summer for evening walks in Mancos, but I haven't done one yet. At best, I've got 2 "weekends" and 4 single days for exploration. I still haven't hiked in the mountains much, and I haven't been to New Mexico; for the single days there's Durango, Telluride, Hovenweep, Mesa Verde some more, or any number of hikes. Not to mention packing. It's a good thing we have to write the date on the leftovers we put in the fridge--I at least know where we are on the calendar, even if people's Facebook posts about weekend activities perpetually take me by surprise. I don't listen to NPR, I don't interact with the outside world very much at all, I have nothing that anchors me to any particular day of the week. All the recurring details of my life--oatmeal in a red bowl for breakfast, class/lunch/Britcoms on Saturday, looking forward to a skate with Mark or dinner with Dad at the end of the day (and, ridiculously often, having to juggle the two at once), walking around the block at night, racing against the piling dishes, feeding my guys before bed--have been abandoned. But the date on the extra french toast reminds me that time is slipping away, my grandiose plans turning to tangled memories, and perhaps the biggest (and loneliest) adventure of my life growing closer and larger all the time. In one month, I begin the transition from a town without a drug store to the biggest city I've ever seen.

Bring it on!

And now for something completely different...

At some point during what turned out to be a 4-hour drive, I suddenly thought, "I'm driving hours to see sand?" I was, and I did, and it was awesome! Great Sand Dunes is, I believe, our newest National Park, a bizarre anomaly where all the sand that the wind picks up on its trip across the San Juan valley gets stuck against the Sangre de Cristo mountains, creating a landscape more appropriate to Egypt, or at least the American coast.

My advice to those who climb the dunes: wear socks. The sand is excruciatingly hot, and when I wasn't emptying my shoes, I was trying to remember what I knew about hot coal walking. In fact, the entire trip to High Dune was excruciating. For everyone who did it. I have never seen such collective misery outside of an airport. It's like walking home in St. John's, combined with the nightmare where you're trying to run and your feet are stuck. It takes 3 steps to go the distance of one, your shoes are forever filling up so there's no room for your feet, and taking a break is like trying to rest while climbing...if the rocks were hot lava. Upon reaching the summit, you've earned the treat of being sandblasted in the speeding winds. And a damn fine view. There are snowy peaks to the north and east that aren't visible from the ground, and the same is true of the rest of the dune field. A lot of people were surprised that there was more than one row of dunes. And again, walking about among the landscape is the only way to really feel you've been there.

I had a much more subtle visit the previous night. One of my guidebooks recommended a walk on the dunes under a full moon, and I was extremely lucky that full moon happened to fall right on the break between Waldorf groups. So I got a campsite with a view, hiked to the overlook for sunset, then sat and read maps (in my car--I'm hard pressed to remember a more intense mosquito experience) until moonrise. A buck foraged within 3 feet of my car, oblivious to my presence. Finally, it was time, and I set out right behind the family from "across the street" for a moonlight walk. I wore my headlamp, but only used it to cross the creek. The moon made the dunes glow slightly, and following my shadow across their dark forms was surreal. I strode purposefully across the wet sand by the creek, naively thinking I'd climb the entire eminence in front of me, but my first step upward revised my plans. This dune was really soft, and cascaded around every footfall. At the first ridge, I decided to park and enjoy. I could hear other people reveling in the distance, but I sat with Lumphy, admiring the patterns and textures all around me. Yet another top travel moment, and another where if I'd had someone to sit and chat with, I might still be there. Coming down was even cooler--the sand made neat "zzzoooooop" noises under my boots as I slid down.

This would be such a great place to bring kids! The creek is like Colorado's beach, with families of all descriptions settled on the sides while the kids waded and dug and experimented with sand structures. There were groups of kids sliding down the dunes en masse, and several adolescent boys at the top with boxes and boards to "surf" on. And the sand itself is fascinating and endlessly explorable. There are toys and museum exhibits where you can play with the effects of wind and water, but this is real! An awe-inspiring natural laboratory, and all the kids I saw were enjoying it to the hilt. I heard one mom ask her boys how much longer they would be with their "engineering project", and the son answered, "How about forever?" A must on any itinerary.

And millions of tiny, free souvenirs to boot!