IN FLIGHT

 

As I write this I'm sitting solo in the Shanghai Pudong airport, wishing there was wifi but it's broken and no one really wants to help, and I don't really need it except to get the address in India where I will be going. I'll be participating in a month long 300 hour yoga teacher training immersion in Rishikesh. My layover here is 7 hours; It's mildly annoying to be unable to connect but I'm reminding myself to just be present in the moment. I thought about venturing into the city but chose the transfer line instead of the customs line and then when I asked security about going into the city I was told I couldn't leave the airport, and also I'm not feeling too adventurous, even though not too tired. 

 

It is so foreign, so weird, to feel so barely able to communicate here and now. If there weren't English subtitles underneath the written Chinese symbols I would be so lost! Looking outside the window from the airport it looks likes any other big airport with vast flat land, jumbo jets, traffic mixing on overpasses; it is drab and grey outside. This end of the terminal is not busy and I'm thinking about doing some yoga if I can find a nook where I won't look like too much of a freak. 

 

My road trip concluded with a flight in a small little plane over Sequoia national park. An exhilarating end to a perfect adventure. The pilot was a man I had met out in Saline Valley, he and his pilot friends had flown out to Chicken Strip (the name of the backcountry airstrip out there) for the new year and my friends and I had been running all around the airfield, chide toy creating safety hazards. Despite all of that, we made a good impression and I got an invite to fly over all the lands I have explored so extensively on foot. I've gotten a couple of chopper rides in the past but they were always on search and rescue missions, so this opportunity to go wherever my little heart desired was truly awe-inspiring. 

[Unfortunately, as I post this internet is dinosaur turtle and I am having trouble posting pics so you'll have to look at my Facebook or insta posts... lame, I know, but I've been struggling to post just this text for 2 hours...!]

We flew from Woodlake up and over to Three Rivers, circling the north fork twice so that I could find my farm and my bus. I didn't realize the orchard next door was so extensive! The first thing I keyed into from the air was the Roping Arena and was able to trace my way around via the rivers and roads from there. Mandy was waving at me from the farm but I couldn't see her. In my photo you can see all the sheep and pigs and Charlie the donkey though!

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Then we went up towards and over Shepherds saddle and then up to lodge pole, Moro rock, flew over broccoli sequoia trees and the meadows and en up towards Alta Peak, views towards Valhalla and Hamilton Lakes. Then north towards the tablelands, one of the few places covered in snow...

 

The Kaweah range is my most favorite in the world, my beloved, so elusive, so majestic. We flew right in front of it, close enough so I could not capture them all in my camera lens, Black Kaweah so astounding, tears to my eyes, this was the closest I've come to its summit. And then around to the north and peer down the Kern, no snow in the entire canyon, as we approach the monsters of mountains along the Sierra Crest: Russell, Tyndall, Langley, Whitney, flying at 15,000 feet in this tiny little plane that held the two of us and not much more. And over Whitney, down amongst the ruggedness on the eastside, overlooking the snow-covered Siberian Outpost, and south to tunnel and monache meadows, as he told me the story of the airstrip there. 

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We began heading west again and I recognized the forest service land that I've hiked in on the approach to the Kern via Coyote pass, and then suddenly we were. Over the Hockett. First I saw Mitchell Meadow and then recognize Sand Meadow by the circular sand formation I knew from my first backcountry trip in the Sierra. And the Hockett Meadow and the ranger station, barely with any snow cover.

 

I directed us towards Mineral King and up over Columbine Lake, then down upper Lost Canyon, and up the Big Arroyo towards Kaweah Gap. I think this was when he put on the music, music which would've been cheesy at any other time but in that moment it felt like I was in the most heart-opening part of any movie ever made that touches you. We stopped talking much and I just absorbed how beautiful everything was. Just. Breathe. Just be.

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And we began to head back... We circled Dinley this time because I wanted to see the Ranch. Here I didn't realize that the pond next door was so big! She later told me saw me and waved but I didn't see her. And we went on down through the valley haze descending back to Woodlake. Even though my feet were on the ground, I was soaring for the rest of the day.

 

Looking at my photos later though, the lack of snow really became apparent. Although I noticed it in the sky and we made some comments, it didn't sink in until I was later processing the photos to publish, and compounded by seeing my friends comments about them. Aside from having an amazing experience, it was pretty special to be able to capture in photos showing the state of the drought. This winter is currently the lowest (or pretty close to it) year of recoded precipitation on record. 


This was my Groundhogs Day 2018. If there is a day that I get to live and repeat forever, I would love it to be this one.

WINDING UP ONE JOURNEY TO PREPARE FOR ANOTHER

The last month on the road has been amazing. It is hard to think back to my first day out, meeting Sierra and David at Remington Hot Springs, and realize I have not been 'home' since then. I miss my bus! I started missing it about 10 days into this trip. Triplet lamb babies were born at Double Gum Tree Farm today. I can't wait to see them.

Thankfully, Missoula has been amazing just as everything else. The backcountry ski day with Abigail and Jeremy was... an experience... type II fun (the kind that is fun in retrospect). Heavy and deep snow made what would have been great terrain into a challenging situation and we made it out of the Lolo pass area at the border of Idaho and Montana after dark with headlamps, punch-holing to our thighs when we finally took our skis off for safety reasons. As a still-novice backcountry skier, I felt very humbled several times throughout the afternoon. 

While this entire trip has been meaningful, I'm ready to go home. I'm ready to lay my head in my own little space, see the pups and the pigs and the sheepsies and laze around for a couple days. I'm so grateful for hospitality that has been offered to me, and to the myriad of adventures I've been on. So genuinely happy for every connection I have had, whether reuniting with dear old friends, running into unexpected acquaintances, or the new souls I have had the pleasure to meet. 

YOGA PHOTOGRAPHY INTENSIVE

My goals this winter were to develop the creative aspect part of my life, ski, live/work on a farm, and attend an ashram or yoga program. As disparate as all of these may seem, somehow this is all going to work out.

Yoga photography was something I was able to offer many of my yoga sisters in Durango, Colorado, and what gorgeous results emerged. Many of these sweet souls also participated in my YTT-200 hour Prana Vinyasa training with Monica Mesa and Lily Russo. It was such a joy and honor to work with them to create beautiful images that I am already seeing posted on social media and their promotional materials. I love so much to be able to create something beautiful that someone is happy with. As it turned out, I did about 8 shoots over the course of 10 days and have a ton of new material I'm working through: will hopefully get through all of it before I take off next week to India. A huge thank you to everyone who supported me!

Having so many shoots in a week was amazing: I learned so much about working with each individual. My upcoming focus will be to arrange some spring and summer photo tours to gorgeous places throughout the west. If you have a studio or want me to come to your area, please contact me! Here's a few shots I really like from the last few weeks:

 

Disappearing and Re-emerging into 2018: Hot Springs, Bristlecones, Salt Flats, and Skiing

What started out a few years ago as an adventure with friends into Saline Valley for the new year has now become almost a pilgrimage for me. As I drove the distance around mountain passes and down long dirt roads, I realized I had no other idea of what I'd want to do for the New Year than leave the daily-humdrum, soak in some springs, and be ready for the next step, wherever 2018 decides to direct me. Saline Valley is always magical, and always provides what my soul needs to soak up, as I look backward, forward, and inward.

I took time to reflect on the changes in the past year. So much had changed over the course of 2017. Everything felt right. 

Moving rocks in the Racetrack, Death Valley.

Moving rocks in the Racetrack, Death Valley.

This road trip so far has been full of amazing experiences: hours of soaking in the most beautiful pools, with the super moon rising over wide desert expanses, small engine planes landing right next to us as we approached the airstrip, with the opportunity to explore them; the harrowing and formidable 4wd Lippincott road up to the Racetrack (a geological feature in Death Valley); the loss and finding of my good friend's much-loved pup; more hot springs, cool springs, and unexpected encounters in Bishop; skiing in June Lake, and a surreal 12.5 hour drive in a day to Colorado. 

But the truth is, aside from all of the natural wonders, the things that touch me most are all of my friends' individual truths and stories that I hear along the way. Everyone encounters such different challenges, and yet we are all connected by common threads. We all live these different parts of a massive collective story, and fill these roles, and make choices that propel our lives further down the paths we walk. I genuinely value each opportunity to connect and learn from the people who I encounter at all of these junctions. 

Down the Gorge: Little Colorado River Recon

During my last days at Southwest Conservation Corps (which, at the time, I wasn't certain were my last days), I was organizing for my crew to do invasive weed surveys in the Little Colorado River Gorge. I was working with Native American youth, primarily of the Navajo Nation. The gorge was a sacred place to the Navajo and Hopi tribes, and its inner depths only accessible in a handful of places throughout the 75 mile length of the canyon.

Mike Wight (Regional Director, Ancestral Lands Program, Southwest Conservation Corps) and I were leaving from the Conservation Legacy All Staff Retreat. He was sick as a dog. We both wanted to descend into the canyon do do reconnaissance for our crew to be able to work in the area. We both deliberated on if we should go, due to the cold that was plaguing him so terribly. 

At the last moment one could turn, he looked at me, and said, "Fuck it - let's go."

We turned left of the 89N onto a dirt road, and began our way out into the abyss. Open lands lay in front of us, with unseen gorges of the canyon fingers dipping down in the distance, the San Francisco Peaks moving in the distance to mark our traverse of the landscape. 

We hiked down the three mile, 3,000 feet descent, following a loose trail over boulders, deep down into the canyon. The beauty rose above us. 

Upon finally reaching the canyon floor, Mike collapsed in a flat area near the helicopter pad. I explored to see where it may be possible for my crews to hike when their field season would start. I also took note of the helicopter pad and stashed supplies at the bottom of the trail, and was able to contact the USGS and arrange helicopter support for the crews after we returned from our trip.

It was awe-inspiring to explore this hidden place, this sacred land, these holy waters. My legs hurt for several days afterwards as I'd not been in shape and the incline was so dramatic. 

Intro Post

I've thought about putting words on a blog again for a little while. Certainly, I write when there are big changes in my life, which comes about relatively often since I seem to constantly be doing something different. These writings are stored on my 10 year old MacBook Pro (which needs upgrading) in rough form, little word documents that get opened up every so often for reflections of tidbits that make me who I am. 

Back in 2009 I started a blog with my bf at that time, to document our travels in Latin America. It was (and still is) called diversidad-de-vida.blogspot.com (if you want to check it out - there is a great entry on our experience during the 2010 earthquake in Chile!). It was fun writing. People viewed, commented occasionally. Though I wasn't sure how many people would read it aside from my mom (thanks for your support, mom!). Coming back to the USA I mostly stopped. In part, I often have little digital connection. And when I do, I tend not to prioritize it.  

Looking at where travel writing and blogging has skyrocketed to in the last 8 years, I would probably have a pretty good thing going on by now if I'd been more disciplined about documenting my journeys. The road has been long and winding. So, perhaps it will continue to be interesting, and I'll continue to add things on this page. Or perhaps, this page will be deleted after cobwebs collect. We'll see!