hearts.and.bones

Buckets of Rain, Buckets of Vomit

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Sun, 30 Apr 2017 22:42:00 +0000

I recently re-wrote a journal entry from this summer, and thought I'd share. There's a longer version, but I think it's too long for a blog entry. So, here's the condensed version of my craziest day at sea:

Today was insane! Every day has been intense, getting up at 4:30 every morning, and being exposed to the sun or the wind or the rain all day. Even standing is hard work on a boat! Then there’s the physical work of pulling anchor, hauling fish over the three-foot rails of the boat, killing them with a bat, filleting them, and scrubbing the deck.

It started out pretty normally, with a group of six guys—mostly middle aged, buddies since forever, and one of their sons. One guy was from New Mexico! Another was more challenging for my optimism. He’d done some ocean charters before and gotten extremely lucky! Once someone catches a 160 pounder their first trip, they think that’s what happens every time—it’s not! Early on, the son and one of the other guys got pretty sea sick. That’s also normal—is it the current? The crazy Alaskan tides? I have no idea, but our inner ears fight it pretty hard, and when they lose, it’s chum all day for the fishies!

We sat on one of our prize spots, but nothing was biting, and I worried about the grim weather forecast: rain and big swells, with gale force winds moving in by the afternoon. A few of the guys were inside the cabin, complaining, while I was out on the deck in the pouring rain, doing bottom checks on their rods, and checking their bait. We eventually moved to what we call a chicken hole—where the babies are. The clients have seen trophy halibut pictures on the website, in the restaurants, and in their dreams, and that is what they’re after. But we can’t catch those every single day we go out; there are many fish in the sea, but fewer than there were before, and we’re catching more every year.

After pulling a few chickens aboard, we headed partway back, where radio rumors had it, there were salmon by the islands. If it were up to me, I’d have cruised right on by, worried about the storm, but my captain, a true client-oriented guide pulled us up to the spot. For the first time all season, the bite was on.

The salmon were coming in fast, but so was the radio chatter, and it was not reassuring. “It’s getting bad past the islands, and building fast—head back now!” There were several other boats at the salmon hole, and everyone decided to leave together, making a boat train to beat down the swells as best we could and sticking together in case something happened. A bigger boat called in to say that if we stuck around a bit, he’d lead the train. While we waited, my captain helped me fillet, because unlike usual, I was not going to be able to filet while moving, it would be too dangerous. She’s been a deckhand since she was thirteen, and I love watching her smoothness and speed when she fillets.

By the time the big boat got there, even the water was pretty rough, and our pukers were looking especially green. Our little craft took sixth position in the eight-boat train. We told our passengers they couldn’t move from their seats; our boat is very sensitive to side-to-side movement, and I didn’t want to think about the tipping point, going over some of these huge swells.

I put a five-gallon bucket between our poor sickies, and sincerely apologized for the upcoming ride. They managed a wry smile each. I’d tied down everything that I could, and took my seat. Wind estimates by the seasoned captains were gusts to 35 knots (around 40 mph) and seas of 12-14’ waves! Although it’s my first season, the sailor-swearing on the radio told me I wasn’t the only one impressed! I started imagining negative scenarios, and tried to think through rescue options. If we rolled, I didn’t know if the other boats could maneuver to pick us up, not to mention the quickly numbing water temperature, and trying to keep your head out long enough to gasp for breath. Just then, the boat in front of us disappeared completely over the top of a wave. My stomach clenched, until I saw it rise up again on the next swell. This is real, I thought, this is like the movies!

I glanced over at my captain—I could see the stress in her face. She’d seen almost everything in her eleven or so years of working on boats—but this was her first year as a full-time captain. I didn’t mention that to the clients. Our poor, sick duo, with nothing left in their stomachs still took turns coughing up bile into a fishy bucket.

Just then the radio interrupted crackled, and one of the other captains yelled that he just broke his side window on that last swell—with his head!!! There were a lot of expletives in the sentence, though. I couldn’t believe it! I imagined a trickle of blood sliding down the side of his forehead from cracking it against the window hard enough for it to break.

It calmed down a bit when we finally crossed into the bay, but it was still a rocky ride. When we finally did make it back, and our seasick passengers stepped onto the dock, their faces showed instantaneous joy. I think all of us breathed a sigh of relief. I was glad to be back safely to the docks, and I grinned at the group—the negative attitudes from earlier didn’t seem to matter anymore. My captain and I headed up to show our still wide-eyed faces to the other crews. They’d been worried about us, in our little boat! I realized I hadn’t eaten or drank anything in hours, and probably barely breathed. I got a drink, and let myself relax. What a day, what a time to be alive!

Not enough heart-space

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Wed, 19 Nov 2014 01:44:00 +0000

Why do I fall in love so easily with places, and so sparingly with people?

I've never cried as much over a boy as I did when I left Spain. Hours on the plane, and then every day after, counting the number of days I'd been gone. How high did I get to before I forced myself to stop counting? I can't remember now, but it's written in an old journal somewhere.

I've never looked at so many pictures, over and over, of a boy as I do at pictures of Alaska. Following accounts on Instagram, setting pictures as my computer background, re-living times and adventures by looking through my albums from my season in Denali.

I've never been so comfortable with a boy as I am when I go home. I can be doing projects, or lazy, outside, or in, but everything from the house to the familiar mountains to family and the dogs is home-y and renewing.

It's like a part of my metaphorical anatomy is a little off-center. There's too much space for places, and gets bigger and bigger the more I go, the more I see, the more I love. There's not enough place for romance, and seems to dwindle with un-use. The longer I'm single, the harder and harder it is to make that first step, try dating someone. People keep telling me that high standards are good, and not to settle...and always seem to critique the boys that fleetingly catch my interest.

Maybe now that I'm stuck in a place, I can somehow make a little more space--even out the compartments a bit, and try to love someone. Maybe it will be easier the more I let go. Maybe, If I just try.

A-H: a summary of me

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Sun, 21 Sep 2014 04:13:00 +0000

A: Aimless. Me, a bit aimless. Not that it comes as a surprise to anyone. I used to write ideas for my college major on a white board and leave it outside my dorm room for people to vote on. It was usually hijacked...

B: Boys. Continual cause/source of interest, annoyance, frustration, and dismissal. Not necessarily in that sequence, though it's not uncommon.
C: Commitment. Something I'm still working on in most aspects of my life. :P Mostly ok with the lack of, though should probably apply a bit of it at some point, especially in the area of Careers, another C word I'm working on...
D: Dog. Want one. Can't have one, too gypsy.
E: Everything. What I want to do/see. Keeps a girl a bit on the restless side.
F: Family. When I tell people about my family, they're almost always amazed and a bit jealous. With good reason...I've grown up with such impressive role models and love and talent.
G: Garden! I've had a lot of fun gardening this year. My current house has some raised beds, but unfortunately the makers did not fill them with topsoil but rather...sand. Or whatever you call NM "soil." Despite this, I've managed to grow some tasty treats:

H: Home. Where I am right now, enjoying a glass of wine and listening to Allison Krauss. It's been a good day: delicious fancy cafe con leche, peach pancakes, a pretty run, visit with my brother and his family, swimming in the pool, beer, yummy food, homemade ice cream, an impressive thunderstorm, guitar playing, popcorn. Hard to beat.

so many questions

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Sat, 31 May 2014 02:44:00 +0000

Tonight I'm actually home alone, with nothing pressing to do, and no crazy plans until tomorrow. It's a rare thing, so my head is full of thoughts, mainly questions, on this perfect summery twilit evening:

- Why am I watching the sunset in the reflection of the window, instead of turning my chair around?
- How did I forget to buy wine at the store today to go with my fresh, homemade pesto?
- Why am I single?
- Will the fertilizer sticks actually help my stunted plants grow?
- Can someone just pay me to play in the garden all day?
- Will drinking iced coffee at 8:30 pm keep me from sleeping tonight?
- Should I go blues dancing, or stay at home and write letters, pack up winter things, clean, and read my Hemmingway book or watch a movie?
- Will I be able to stay longer than 6 months at my new job? Will anyone else hire me if my job history is just a series of 6 month adventures/boredoms?
- Why did I not go back to Alaska this summer?
- Where should I move when I'm done with ABQ?
- Should I go to Potlatch, or skip it, in favor of other, new trips, like Yosemite?
- Who is going to teach me to fly fish?
- Should I take tango lessons? Or hip hop? Or guitar? Or try to get into a ceramics studio? Or write more?
- How long would it take to become and architect of bridges?

<- ->

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Fri, 11 Apr 2014 06:46:00 +0000

Sometimes my life just seems comical to me. Today was an example of this. I got up early, made delicious breakfast, dressed for PT, and drove out to the other side of the Sandias (mountain range bordering ABQ to the East) to train with some of the engine crew for wildland fire suppression. (We did the "fitness trail" which is a half mile figure eight along the side of a hill you can repeat as many times as you wish; we didn't do enough laps for it to be too hard, I was a bit disappointed.) After PT I took a chainsaw and felling class. I've already had it, but a refresher's nice, since I haven't used a saw in a while. As soon as class was out in the afternoon, I rushed home, showered, dressed professionally, put on make-up, and went to a fancy hotel downtown. I had RSVP-ed a while ago for a "networking and info session" with the Dept. of State, Foreign Service. (I've applied to a few jobs previously, and thought this might be helpful; it wasn't. I knew everything from FAQ pages, videos, and personal stories I'd read online, and there were no personal communication availability with panel members. Oh well.) I like the juxtaposition of 8 am, PT and chainsaw theory with a bunch of tattooed firefighters -> 8 pm business attire and heels listening to advice on applying for State Department Civil and Foreign Service careers. The only quote I remember from the evening was, "in the foreign service, you will never be bored." Maybe I'm on the right (12) track(s).

All the jobs

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Sun, 02 Mar 2014 06:58:00 +0000

Two of my friends were brainstorming a single phrase that could identify various friends without any other context. The one they suggested for me was, "I want all the jobs!" Humorous, and pretty true. That or, I want none of the jobs, with the manner in which I seem to discard them.

So far this year (2 months) I have applied to at least the following jobs: ESL teacher at a community college, Spanish instructor at two different private high schools, consular adjudicator in a Latin American country for the State Department, raft guide, living history interpreter, railroad station agent, interpretive coach, and auditioned for an acting agency. Pretty typical for my spread of interests, as well as quantity of options I try to give myself, but this might be getting to be a bit much, even for me.

I started taking classes last year at a community college, hoping to feel out electricity (with thoughts of entering the solar field) and nursing. This year I got a job in an ER which is great experience, but very low pay and usually a bad schedule. I'm also taking four science courses, pre-reqs for nursing, since I decided that route made more sense. But now...of course I'm having second thoughts (or forty-second). I very much dislike being back in school at age twenty-eight for an associates or maybe bachelor's degree, when I already have a master's. I very much dislike using my savings because I'm not getting paid enough to pay my bills and loans each month. I very much dislike staying home to study every weekend while my friends go on adventures. I realize these problems are *very* "first world," so feel free to stop reading if you're disgusted. It is frustrating, though, to feel as if I'm starting from scratch, and my past education and experience mean nothing.

Six years out of college I should be qualified for jobs other than, "entry level," but because I haven't stayed in one field for long enough, I don't have the minimum experience required to meet expectations for many employers. I personally think my broad range of experiences makes me *more* qualified to do almost any given job, as I have such a diversified background, but try explaining that to an automated computer screening system.

I'm ready for a more "career" job. The problem is that I very intensely crave job satisfaction, and thus far have been unable to find it for more than about six months, and its daunting to think about spending another two years in school, going into more debt, to do something I'm unsure about. That's what my first liberal arts degree was for, right? I don't have time to spend looking for an applying to jobs all over the country. I don't have time or money to go back to school four more times. At some point I have to decide on something certain and commit to it, or settle for something and obligate myself to understand that satisfaction can be found in other areas of life and the job I do doesn't have to be the *best* job that exists for me, and perfectly match my interests and skills. (A remarkably similar parallel could be drawn to my romantic history, or lack thereof.)

Possibilities include: architect, landscape architect, nurse, teacher, pilot, journalist/writer, ASL interpreter, Spanish interpreter, Forest Service or Park Service career path, actor, carpenter, firefighter, speech/language pathologist...so whenever I decide, I'll let you know. Don't hold your breath, it might take another 28 years.

termination dust

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Sun, 22 Sep 2013 05:08:00 +0000

My time in Denali is over. For now, anyway; it's hard for me to think about leaving places for good, I may be back someday. Things are coming to a nice, circular close, up here in Alaska. When I first arrived, I was picked up at the airport by some family friends and spent a day or so in Anchorage before catching a bus up to the park to begin working. Just the other day I hopped on a train and came back down to Anchorage, and was picked up again, and now spending a few days here before heading out (though not directly: a plane, then a ferry, then another plane before I'm home: rivers and roads).

The seasons are also serving as cyclical closure for my Alaska adventure: When I came in May it was still unabashedly winter: the ground still covered entirely in its white disguise, just like the ptarmigan and hare, with more snow to come in a rare late-season storm.

Spring was brief, but commenced with the blooming of the beautiful (though poisonous) pasque flower. Wildflowers continued through late summer, each dominating a certain area of soil and slope, rapidly rising to full blossom, and fading just as fast, giving way to another.

Pre-mosquito summer was incredible, and filled with lots of blue-skied hikes, trips to the lake or river, and even a half-marathon (my first: I'm not exactly hooked on running them. I did well, and for now am satisfied with having done it).

Mosquito season sucked. (ah, ah.)

Fall came late, but in striking style. While everyone had described fall to me as the most impressive time of year in Denali, the colors still took my breath away. And just like the transition of flower to flower, the colors changed everyday, the rapidity of its arrival and departure impressive, as I have found most things in Alaska to be.

And then, though there was a brief period, the tundra brown, the sky gray, where Denali was not the most beautiful place I could imagine, for once, the first snows came, bringing a close to so many things. The first snow on the peaks above, a confection coating called "termination dust," signifying the end of summer and fall, the end of the long days of light, the end of warmth, of colors on the tundra, and for me, the end of my time in the park. Of course, endings of one thing are always beginnings, as we all know, and so it is for Denali, and so it is for me.

Still, I thought it fitting, after my snowy arrival, that my departure, too, should be snowy, dusted with all the memories of the season: five seasons in one.

quick call for web support =)

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Mon, 16 Sep 2013 05:21:00 +0000

I'm applying for a really cool job with Jauntaroo where I would be paid to travel around and write/take pictures, etc. about my experiences. If you agree I'd be an awesome "Chief World Explorer" could you take 60 seconds to watch and like my video tonight? Thanks!!http://www.bestjobaroundtheworld.com/submissions/view/15788
(Actually, you don't even have to watch it, just open the link and like...) :P

mosquitopia

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Sun, 11 Aug 2013 05:22:00 +0000

I finally uploaded the videos from my camera, and while the mosquitos have nearly disappeared, I wanted to upload this video which at least gives you an idea of what they were like for a time.

People danced all through my presentation, or headed back to the busses early; none of us wanted to be there. I cut my talk down by about 2/3. But now there are wild blueberries all over, and almost no mosquitos! Good trade!

longest day, ever.

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Fri, 19 Jul 2013 03:52:00 +0000

I am, of course, referring to May 9 to present, as it hasn't gotten dark, AT ALL, the whole time. That's a bit of an exaggeration, actually. I arrived in Anchorage and I'm pretty sure it was dark for a bit when I slept. After travelling north a few more hours up to Denali, much less so! Just a sort of dimness around 2am after the sun sinks below the horizon and before it comes back up only about 10 degrees away over the same ridgeline. It's been rather fun, though unfortunately I keep losing at my favorite game of Nighttime, Daytime now. Actually, the real longest day, ever, literally, that I've experienced, was of course, summer solstice. June 21, immediately followed by a super moon, which was pretty awesome, though without extended exposure, my pictures are mediocre at best. For solstice some friends and I went out to a big rock outcropping, took snacks and drinks and sat up on rocks talking and playing music (this was largely provided by me, on the mandolin and harmonica--not at the same time--so it only involved three songs; more next year). At a bit after midnight we walked down to the river and did a nice 2-mile river-side trail before getting demolished by mosquitos and squishing 13 people into my friend's Honda Element (turned low-rider).

(This makes it look like it was dark, but it's mostly due to my editing.)

I probably can't even remember the majority of the activities since last blogging, but shall list a few: 9.3 mile beautiful trail run up a ridge and along some lakes, including a brief stop to jump in one of the cold, tannin-tainted lakes for an invigorating dip; team ultimate Frisbee tourney in Anchorage, playing with a mostly-Anchorage based team: really fun time, met cool people (or course) and dislocated my thumb, sadface (it's been kind of a pain, and sounds like a very slow healing injury); some friends from NM came to visit--one lives in Hawaii now and the airlines lost all his baggage! He arrived in flip-flops and board shorts from Maui. He was late and it took some extra steps to get him here and then outfitted for our brief backpacking trip we'd planned. We still ended up being able to go, and we had a great time--it was my first overnight backcountry trip into the park, so that was fun.

Bear tracks we found while hiking along the East Fork of the Toklat

I ran a half marathon--not something I've ever had much of a desire to do, perhaps because of running track through high school and part of college--but I decided, why not? If I'm going to do one, it might as well be in Denali, and the money from the race fee went to an Interior [Alaska] HIV/AIDS prevention/treatment program. I did better than I expected, not having trained at all, and came in 4th place (though not that many women runners total) with an unofficial time of 1:49. woo! As a birthday celebration for a friend we went to a lake nearby, not in the park, and rented a kayak and canoe to paddle around in for the afternoon, then got food from the Thai cart (yum!) and ice cream; I also worked some and did some classwork for my online Nutrition class. yeah.

Overall, things continue to go well. The weather takes turns being cloudy/rainy and sunny/gorgeous. I haven't been able to climb because of my thumb, and may not for a while, which is too bad, but I suppose all in all, if I'm going to get injured, now isn't as bad of a time as possible. There are tons of fun things to do and beautiful places to go without relying solely on climbing and ultimate for my social and exercise needs.

Ptarmigan (state bird) among Fireweed

My time here is almost half over now. It's starting to get dim at some point in the late night/early morning, and I am already apprehensive about the last month up here when the weather will already be turning toward winter (I truly am a baby about it). I should be able to see the Northern Lights, though, and that will make up for it entirely.

Otto Lake, Healy, AK

"Dammit! Life's too short!"

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Sat, 15 Jun 2013 19:53:00 +0000

The phrase of today's hike with a friend.

But I think we're doing alright, living it as we are.

Let me back up a bit, to last weekend. On Friday I visited HR and they made some calls for me, to see if I could get on a flight seeing tour (employee benefits here include free or discounted adventure trips, with tips, if there are spaces unreserved by paying customers). I got placed on a tentative list and spent the day trying not to get too excited about it, in case I got bumped off. I also went down to the river with some friends and got my first fly-fishing lesson. Fun stuff! Now I want to get in to fly-fishing, as well. As if I need another hobby. My friend caught this pretty grayling:

In the evening I showed up and called again to see if my spot was still free--I had the one and only employee spot! Jumped on the shuttle to Healy airstrip, put on a pair of glacier boots and waited for manifest and loading. Glacier boots! We flew up to about 12,000 feet (no cabin pressure) from a starting point of somewhere between 1,000 and 2,000. Came back down to 5,700 and landed on Ruth Glacier, about 9 miles from Denali. It was mostly clear and epically beautiful. Not even very cold--I took my hat and gloves and didn't want them at all. Flew up in a limited edition Beaver:

What a beautiful experience! We flew close to some of the steepest, roughest mountains I've ever seen; over bright turquoise glacial lakes; crevasses so deep you'd have a very large, eternal ice casket should you fall in; over the glacial erratics (40 foot boulders on the top of a ridge, leftovers from an ancient ice monster) I hiked to two weeks prior; across the Nenana River, still brown and furious from snowmelt, but dotted with a few tiny, bright red rafts.

Alaska, the Last Frontier!

Since I'd missed dinner, I stopped at the Thai/Chinese food truck in "the canyon" (outside the park where the hotels and tourist shops are) and had a lovely pad thai dish, a good break from dining hall food, and headed back to "Parkside" where I leave.

The next day I went on a beautiful 7-8 mile hike with these pretty hiking buddies. (We named ourselves the "Onward Hos," hehe.)

We finished off the day with an ice cream stop before heading back for dinner.

Now it's my weekend again--the week went by pretty quickly, though the mosquitos have started to come out at full force. Yesterday I went on another beautiful hike, and today I'm going to see if I can get on a raft ride! I think about my crew fighting fires this summer, and sometimes miss it a little, but I'm pretty happy to be where I'm at! Pretty lucky.

cabin life

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Tue, 11 Jun 2013 01:34:00 +0000

Something seems wrong here. No one is yelling at me to move faster, dig harder, spin weather quicker and get back in the line. I go to work, hop on a bus, get off at a cabin, open it up, make a fire in the woodstove, and sit on a wooden barrel waiting for guests to show up. In between tours I read, or write letters, or sing (or even sleep, today!). I *talk* to people as my job. That's it?! Really? I just have to give some history, tell a story or two, joke with people, and answer questions...and I get paid? Nice!

My presentation is only about 10 minutes long, and number of tours/shift can range from 1 or 2 to 8 or 9 (I've heard 11 sometimes, but hopefully that's rare). I can see the potential for the repetition to get old by the end of September, but I will probably change up what I say from time to time, to keep it fresh. And I get to go into the park everyday. I've probably seen 30 moose, 20 caribou, 3 bears, 2 lynx, and assorted birds, hares and small ground squirrels etc. No wolves or foxes yet. I've seen the mountain probably 10 times (unusual). I'm meeting fun people, and constantly learning about the wildlife and tundra/flora around me. I'm going on hikes and running sled dogs and even flying. (More on that later.)

So far, things are swell. I still have a lingering feeling that I'm somehow getting off easy, and this is cheating. Just in case this is true, and someone's looking, I do pushups between tour groups, like a kind of penance or tithe to past jobs.

porcuPINE tree

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Mon, 20 May 2013 04:42:00 +0000

This little fellow was enjoying a nice needle-y snack outside our dorms the other night:

He looks guilty.

And speaking of dorms, this is my little room, still lacking a bit of decoration. Pretty cozy. The main annoyance is that their aren't bathrooms connected to the building, so you have to go outside, downstairs, across the road and into another building, kinda like camp. I probably won't complain so much once it's warmer, but right now it's tromping through snow, and pretty darn cold. Like winter camping, only if I were in a tent I'd probably go about 3 feet from the tent to pee at night, and call it good.

The cold weather and snow (about 7-8 inches the other day/night) is apparently very unusual this late in the year. I blame myself, as this tends to happen when I go new places. Sorry, everybody. I came up with a new motto to get myself out and have fun in it, though, instead of getting all SAD. "When it snows in May, best get out and play!" and went snowshoeing with some new friends, for the first time ever! It was really gorgeous, so even though it should be summer right now, it was cool to snow shoe in the park. The view was tolerable:

And I got to practice my cursive shuffling:

Today, as a lovely sight for sore eyes, the sun came out and it was all clear and beautiful. The sun already melted the snow off of the paths and some of the roofs. It might be Spring/Summer soon, after all. (yay!)

Arrival to the Land of the Midnight Sun

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Sun, 12 May 2013 07:02:00 +0000

I'm here! I'm in Denali National Park. This is night number two and so far both evenings after dinner I've gone on hikes with some of the other girls here. Because, you know, you can leave for a two hour hike at 7 and still come back with lots of daylight. We're not actually going very far, just short trails around the Wilderness Access Center near the entrance (where we live) but because of all the late snow they had up here, it hasn't melted yet, and the trails are still covered.

But let me back up. I flew in Thursday evening getting some pretty spectacular views of mountains below, and was picked up by a family friend and taken home to a most ridiculous view overlooking a lake and gorgeous mountains from their beautiful home in southern Anchorage. Oh, and some yummy leftover salmon.

The next day I borrowed their jeep and met up with my twin from college and had a really nice coffee date, then went to the Anchorage museum, which was quite nice. I got to watch a planetarium show on the aurora, which I'll hopefully get to see in the fall up here. I walked along the coastal trail a bit, and did some errands. In the evening my awesome hosts took me down to Girdwood, which is a cute little ski town, and treated me to an amazing halibut dinner.

The next day I hopped on a school bus (aka Denali tour bus) for employees and we had very scenic drive up to the park. Didn't see much wildlife other than a bald eagle, but the mountains were impressive enough to hold me over. As much of an anti-winter person as I am, the snow covered peaks are really rather lovely.

Still not too sure on details of my job description, mostly doing orientation type stuff so far, but I saw where I'll be working today, which is in a cabin! And we get to split wood and make a fire everyday as part of the enactment! Nice! Although I'm sure there will be some warm and/or humid days in July to which it will not be very pleasant to add heat, but all in all, it looks like a good time. Can't wait to see our uniforms/outfits.

Oh and I can also go play with sled dogs from time to time. (High of the day:)

coffee songs

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Tue, 07 May 2013 21:13:00 +0000

So one time my friend Hermes and I made a bet about who could learn a song on the guitar first (he was considering buying a friend's old guitar) and I don't recall the details of the bet, or what the winner got (or even if such stipulations existed). Today I have a really gravelly voice from a music festival on Sunday which involved me singing loudly and screaming a lot, so I thought it would be an excellent day to record myself (so every error can be blamed on the poor condition of my voice, right?). Here it is, One More Cup of Coffee (ish):

Denali bound!

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 16:01:00 +0000

So despite being awful at blogging about it, I've been pretty decent at adventuring recently.

Two ski trips to Taos, including hiking and hottubs and sleeping in VW vanagons:

Two RV trips to frisbee tournaments (one in Las Vegas, NV, the other in Tucson, AZ):

Cross country ski trip to hot springs in the Jemez, yurt/boarding/sledding trip to Red River, and probably various other shenanigans and adventures I've failed to mention. Don't worry, I'm also getting good grades in my classes, and picking up some work with a solar installer doing some residential roof installs.

And in a few weeks! I'm heading to Alaska! I'm going to work here for the summer:

No big deal. Just gonna hang out for 4.5 months near the biggest mountain in North America, see tons of cool wildlife, make lots of friends, and pretend I'm a 1940's park ranger and give talks to tourists. That's right, they're going to pay me to play pretend. AWESOME! I leave May 9.

sometimes it be that way

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Mon, 18 Feb 2013 06:34:00 +0000

Sometimes, and often when I read Neil Gaiman? I think I could be a writer. And then I proceed to not-write for a very long time. Why is that? Obviously it has something to do with my continued obsession with thinking about just about everything I could possibly do and not doing any of them. Course, I’m changing that, and doing three or four right now: taking classes toward nursing, electricity (solar) and ASL (not that I’d be able to interpret for another decade or so, at the rate I’m learning, but it’s still fun, and been on my list of things to do/learn for ages) and um, also got some headshots done for future potential acting/modeling. Hah. Okay, got it out.

Anyway, I've decided that what I lack is certainly not ideas, but rather the audacity to discard them. I can’t stand letting go of possibilities, and so I try to wrangle everything all at once. It works occasionally— I've combined trips, or attended multiple parties in one night—but at some point, I've got to just embrace something and go for it. (This is when I am about to write, “and then when I want a career change, I can come back to the others!” but I’m afraid unlike most people who want a career change after 15 or 20 years, I’ll want it after 6 months. Curses. )

In the end, our careers do not define us. Or shouldn't. So it’s okay if I don’t manage to find my dream job, or something that fits me perfectly, or I am excited to do (except for some Monday mornings) and actually enjoy… Yeah, I actually want a job I enjoy, so scratch that. And then I come back to the idea of vocation, rather than just occupation. Way back in high school (you know, ‘cause that was *so* long ago) I wrote down a quote about your vocation being the place where your deep gladness and the world’s great hunger meet. Which is a perfectly wonderful, if slightly idyllic definition, and would make this whole deciding so much easier…if only I knew WHERE MY DEEP GLADNESS was! My PASSION. I’ve got like 35, have I mentioned? Although I guess they wouldn't really classify as passions, since I distractedly move from one to the other like a ferret chasing bouncy balls on a trampoline.

So I guess I just pick something, and if it can be considered worthwhile for at least a portion of humanity, and I can be happy that I am doing more help than harm in the world, I should just do it. Plenty of time for adventuring on the side, if my job doesn't include chasing falcons or sailing about on tropical waters.

I almost sound convinced.

the trouble with witches. or boys:

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Mon, 18 Feb 2013 05:11:00 +0000

I like boys who carry books in their back pocket
I like boys who correct my grammar--or could, at least
I like boys who learn to cook
who recycle
who write letters
I like boys who make music
and boys who play sports
and think I like boys that travel all over the world,
and speak several languages
better than me
I like boys who like all the same things as me...

but apparently,
I don't like boys who like me.

letter to a friend, or, what I'm up to:

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Sat, 29 Dec 2012 19:14:00 +0000

I meself have wrestled much with the eternal questions of life, morality, meaning, and the lot. And it be true, I find myself headed once more to pass under the doors of institutions which promise to pass on some knowledge and trade. I do not consider my previous efforts a loss, nor do I regret them, I have simply come to discover that my learnings, while leading me on grand adventures, serve me less in the world of tiresome realism in which we dwell. Thus I have taken it upon myself to come into something more of versatility and usefulness, all the while seeking both meaning and goodwill for others and the world, and something that not numb my very being for lack of change, stimulation, intellect.

As of yet, I have not the perfect solution. I am of two minds: I may pursue the art of healing and thus aid my fellow brethren when ill they become--a trade which is both meaningful and wise, and yet will also give me the freedom to roam about, should I choose, for either short or longer amounts of time; it would suit my need for certain escapes. Another idea which has been taking hold is to harness power from the very source of energy from which we all draw life: the sun itself. From this orb of gas and light we can create the sort of energy we use in these lands to power all manner of electrical and mechanical devices. It would be of great interest to learn the method of this seeming magic, and create such contraptions for those who have mind to invest in this sustainable form of sun power.

the mouse ran up the clock!

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Sun, 09 Dec 2012 05:51:00 +0000

Long time no write. Fire season is over. For some reason this meant to me that I should plan lots of trips and go visit lots of people and do lots of things. I guess that's my MO, but I maybe have done more things in a short (relatively speaking) amount of than I intended. At any rate, here's a summary I've what I've done since being "laid off."

I got back to Albuquerque, moved (some) of my things into a 2 bedroom house with 2 of my good friends, eventually getting my bed back from a friend, which I then put in the living room). Took off to Arizona, a quick camping trip to the Grand Canyon with friends, then to a frisbee tournament.

Back to Albuquerque (briefly).

Off to Colorado. Got to visit a bunch of different friends, see some pretty parts of the western slope, some great canyons, etc.

Back to Albuquerque (briefly).

Off to Colorado again. This time the eastern part, up to visit my sissie rat and Nate near Ft. Collins. I got to watch her do surgeries at work! And we did fun art and played games and frisbee and such.

Back to Albuquerque (briefly).

Off to Puerto Rico! My roommate's sister got married and then I did more traveling around the island. It was lovely. And humid. I'd considered moving there before, but I think I've decided I'm not that interested. Pretty sure I'd be claustrophobic on an island that size. Though I tried surfing one afternoon and I could do that for a while...

Back to Albuquerque (for one night).

Back home for Thanksgiving, brought my roomies. Kelcie and Nate couldn't come =( but the rest of us had a lovely time, and Jesse and Holly's new puppy is adorable. I want one.

Back to Albuquerque (briefly).

Off to Arizona for an ultimate tournament, kind of a reunion team, and stayed with a friend from Tucson, great time and good weather. (Kind of want to move there. I think I need to visit in the Summer in order to think it's too hot...but palm trees! And citrus!)

Back to Albuquerque...till Christmas! Was going to go home again, but I just want to hold still for a moment. Sorry Mom and Dad! (see you in less than two weeks.)

So, been busy, but was rather lovely. Cheers!

A [long] day in the life... [part II]

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Mon, 10 Sep 2012 17:09:00 +0000

On the North side, where the other members of our crew were, things were nowhere near completion. They'd had some slop over, meaning the fire had crossed the line in an area, but it as quickly contained with line around all sides. The main problem had been in our cooperation with the adjoining crew. They'd had a spot fire and several of our members had been sent to their line as reinforcement. We thus had even fewer people and they'd been split in two, trying to take more line, as the other crew was making slower progress than expected. Thus when I finished burning I was sent to assist in the holding of the other side. Thinking that after the hike there, this would mean a bit of a break, and time to eat, as I'd had nothing but a few bites of power bar and jerky, I set off.

Once I arrived, I sat down just for a moment to get something out of my pack. It felt so good to get off my feet. I shoved some more jerky in my mouth while trying to decide if I had time to open up a packet of something from my MRE. Just then I hear, "Glick!" Shit. They needed me somewhere else, so the guy who was last back and I headed up the line further to see where they wanted us. So much for food. (Have you heard the slang word "hangry?" I was very, very hangry.) We bumped up, and were told to monitor and patrol a section of line. I knew the other guy had just been patrolling, so I took the first scout of our new area. Everything looked fine, including the area that had slopped over, all the way out to a meadow where the third little group had started burning. It was a bit of a walk though at least not steep. When got back, we started moving along with some burners who were headed back to where others had started, trying to tie in all the pieces.

By this time, mid afternoon, getting toward the hottest part of the day, the fires were lighting pretty well. Especially in the pine litter, where we were now. Little dots of fuel soon grew to pretty big fires, following sap lines up trees like vertical rivers of flame. We were watching pretty carefully at this point, and our foreman was looking worriedly up at the canopy where some of the trees on the green side were pretty close to the branches from the black side. Then things got very hot on the ground and the fire slopped over to the grasses on the other side of the line. We were quickly motioned out of the way and into safety on the other side of the knoll. The foreman was calling in air support on the radio, which actually happened pretty quickly, as the double-propeller helicopter was on its way somewhere else and we were able to use its load of water for our more-urgent purpose.

The water drop didn't seem to cool it off too quickly, but we had the other squad members who were nearby coming to the scene and we all started digging line as quickly as our tired, stupid bodies would let us. I felt desperately slow, moving about with my ass nearly burning, like when you stand too close to the campfire and suddenly realize your pants are too hot to touch and you jump around like Rumpelstiltskin. It was too hot to get a line directly at the fire, we had to jump back a few feet and work ahead of it. Eventually we got it done, and someone was even back burning already from that little line with a fusee (think cardboard tube shooting 4 inch flames of smelly-gas fire).

Adrenaline still pumping, mind stimulated but body not quite feeling a second wind, I looked up at my foreman just as the radio cracked "spot" from the guy up the line monitoring. I think we all took a half-second pause to groan inside and then three of us started running up the line, meanwhile listening for the size-up and how many people were actually needed. Just two of us would do. The foreman stayed back to make sure everything was ok where we'd just finished, and another guy and I jogged around the corner and found out that the spot fire was a big log round that had rolled down the hill, across the line. The two of them were able to pick up and carry the round back up the hill and secure it in the black. I made sure there was a line around the area it had been resting, and no burning embers were still around, waiting to set the grass ablaze.

I'm pretty sure by this point my face had adopted a singular expression that took too much effort to change. I'd been angry there for a while, in my hunger, and now I was just tired, and past the point of much feeling. The guy who'd called in the spot was opening up his pack for some food when the forman came by and told him he could grab a snack quick but be ready to move (this usually means pack on, standing up). I was told to come along and dropped in behind the foreman. We headed back up the line where our superintendent had started burning. Finally we were able to spread out to monitor the burn and I sat down to get a bit to eat. It was around five-thirty. No wonder, I thought. What a long, effing day! And its not over yet...

The rest of the evening actually passed by in a fairly tranquil manner, at least for me. Our stretches of ground became smaller and smaller until I could actually see or yell at the person to my left. (This is how it should be, but resources where just too thin earlier.) The shot crew that had been working to the South came up to help reinforce us, as we'd send some of ours north. I even had time to heat my MRE meatballs for dinner so that once we got back to camp at ten-thirty or so, I could just do some basic hygene, set up my thermarest and sleeping bag and "hit the hay."

As I was putting powder on my feet and wiping my face with a towelette, I was able to enjoy the scene I had around me. New moon, and the smoke had risen nicely so the night horizon was surprisingly clear: stars everywhere! And then there was the fire... Across the valley and on the opposite slope the the fire we'd lit, and the crew next to us had crep very nicely back toward the black of the main fire. During the daylight hours, I'm sure all you'd see is a bit of smoke, but at night, it was a zigzagging, glowing mess of red and orange. Not wild and crazy, not tall or swirly, but alive and beautiful. Unsuccessfully, I tried to snap a few pictures, but between the distance and the limited exposure time, the flames looked like tiny, isignificant dots in a vast black nothingness. I'll just have to remember this sight, I thought, and went to sleep after a long day.

A [long] day in the life... [part I]

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Mon, 10 Sep 2012 16:12:00 +0000

It seems there are no "typical" days in hotshotting. There are days where you dig line all day. Days where you burn all day. Days where you prep all day. Days where you sit in the buggy, days where you wash the buggy, and days where you do a bit of everything. So it's hard to describe what an average days is like; you just never know.

One day, we were out in the wilderness. As far as I can draw conclusions or make generalizations at this point, this means we are 1. eating MRE's; 2. at a higher elevation and therefore cooler and amid more pine dominated growth; 3. possibly dropped off via helicopter and very likely to walk out, be the distance 5 or 15 miles. In this situation we were eating MRE's for every meal (unless you scrounge together things for breakfast, or bring along pop tarts/oatmeal, etc; I do), were at around 9,000 feet with temperatures in the high 80's, and had ridden in on a helicopter (what luck! and paid to be in it, too!) It was even in our good fortune to fly out, but that was not known at the time. We were working along the Crest trail, a lovely open view to the west of White Sands. Open meadows and pine stands in other directions.

The plan, which almost always changes various times throughout the day/operation, was to split into squads, and begin burning towards the north and south, until meeting up with other crews in either direction. Conceptually it was not a difficult plan, however various factors made it more arduous that I would have preferred. One such factor was the rain which had fallen a few days previous, essentially putting out the fire. The reason we were burning out line on a nearly contained fire we shall leave to the higher authorities, however I shall infer that it has largely to do with available resources and an area which had not seen fire in too long. Regardless of the reason--and "why?" is a question I have learned to dimiss quickly for the betterment of my mental sanity--we began at a reasonable hour, 0700. Things do not tend to burn well with high humidities and low temperatures--at least not in the southwest; I can speak nothing of other climates and geographies.

Alpha squad began moving in one direction, and Bravo in another. At first I was assigned to the task of "holding," as others took their dripping torches of flame to the pine litter and sparse grass between the rocks. Holding means you are responsible for looking into the green--the side of the line which you do not want to burn, and also monitoring the fire in the other side, the black. It often requires many hours of standing, which tires the feet and the mind more than digging or cutting, though not the body. In my case on this day, I happened to be the last person in the holding line, which comprised of too few people to begin with, as we had much ground to cover. I was thus responsible for watching my area of the green and black, and then returning every so often to the place from which we started, making sure nothing had since become problematic. As is generally the case, especially on wilderness fires, I venture, the terrain was rugged and steep. Though the distance wasn't long, my periodic trek was an excellent cardio workout, which is never a bad thing, but does tire one out.

After a time, I was called up for relief of the person actually lighting fire. I dread this, probably because I am not experienced enough in it--I become quickly fatigued by attempting to hold my tool in one hand, the 15 pound (when full) torch in the other, and walk quickly along steap terrain, frequently slipping on loose shale and all the while trying to put down lines or dots or slings of fire before or behind or beside me, as per the instructions of the burn boss. On this particularl day I thought the burning would be easier, the previous time I'd been on a rough side hill, back and forth, back and forth. By the time I was assigned to burning, the steap country had mostly been burned, and I was in a grass meadow. A factor I failed to consider was that most of the grass along the line where I was had been covered in slurry days ago and was not conducive to burning; the product does as it was intended. As I began to burn, I had to retrace my steps and relight many times. My torch would not stay lit. I had to light behind me, with the wind at my back, pushing foul fumes into my breath, taking long strips of fire out into the meadow and then run around the area to escape the fire, then hurry back to the line in order to repeat the steps. As far as burning goes, the time I was actually on the torch was very little, but perhaps having been tired out before, I was more than ready to be done by the time we tied in to the other crew on that end.

They write songs about Nevada

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Thu, 06 Sep 2012 23:07:00 +0000

Don't they? They should. It's very picturesque. Not sure I've really spent any time in Nevada before. Currently driving through on the way home from a two week fire stint in northern California. First time there, too! Rather beautiful, I was impressed by the trees and not even really in "big" tree country. I felt Fall come to the area we were working, it seemed. Was nice to be working in cooler weather, for once, but the thought of Summer's close was a bit bitter for me. Seems I haven't really had a summer and it's already gone! Whine, whine, my sister tells me. It's a job, get over it. I suppose.

I realize I've been quite negligent these past 5 or so months since becoming a hotshot and moving to to government housing on the base; mostly I blame it on being very busy and hardly having internet service. So that's the really fast summary of what I've been up to. I have a rather long entry written out, actually, describing a particular day on a big fire. I still need to attach the photos, maybe I'll get it done during our upcoming days off.

Sitting in traffic in Las Vegas, currently, with an only semi-working AC apparatus. Gross. Whine, whine. ;)

"Possession"

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 18:53:00 +0000

Thinking about Grandparents a lot lately, and missing them. This is a poem my Grandma, Ruth Glick, wrote. My cousin Jonathan Reuel put it to music and played it during her memorial service. (I was going to attach it here, but I seem to be incapable...sorry.)

Not what we own, nor what our hands have held…not measured wealth nor horded gold or land, but what our eyes behold or have beheld: treasures of the mind, not of the hands. The ocean’s beauty has no price, the sands and waves belong to those who know…and love. Flowers come with dew-drop filled silvery light and starry sky above. Not what we have is life, but what we deeply love. The ocean’s beauty has no price, the sands and waves belong to those who know…and love.

Praia do Meco, Portugal

memories of stars

noreply@blogger.com (Lindsy) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 17:18:00 +0000

I remember the first time I was truly aware of the Milky Way, and able to watch its shift across a clear night sky. I was about ten years old and we were vacationing to our soon-to-be home: Glenwood, New Mexico. I'd lived in Ohio until then, and slept out under the stars my fair share of times, but even though we lived in the woods, you don't get the openness or the intensity of the stars that you get in Nowhere, Southwest. I seem to recall sleeping on an open trailer, so it may have actually been once we moved, but our whole family had laid out sleeping bags on the trailer and could stare up at the enormous openness of the real-life Van Gogh painting. The Milky Way was probably nearly straight above us as we fell asleep.

Coyote calls awakened us, and we whisper-marveled to each other: coyotes so close, they probably don't even know we're here! What wild land! (They probably knew we were there.) And then gazing upwards again, the lactic-like cluster of stars had shifted noticeably. My eyesight must have been better then than now, because I'm sure I didn't have to put on glasses to notice this... It's easy to understand why early astronomers imagined the Earth to be the center of the universe, with the sun, moon and stars rotating around us...but oh! to be Kepler, Galileo, Newton! Study the paths of light trekking across the skies season to season, and propose absurd and wondrous ideas about how the universe appears and behaves!

Monday I went on a beautiful hike with some friends and we walked about an hour though the snow in the dark on our way back. It was one day short of new moon, so our starlight was unadulterated by the sun's faithful mirror, and we could see our bright galaxy clearly defined. (The only con associated with aiming one's glance upward is the almost immediate slight shift of your step to one side, which when trudging through knee-deep snow--albeit trampled down from our trek in--usually results in a mild loss of balance.)

I don't think the stars remember me, or benefit in any way from my presence, but the opposite is most certainly true. Were it an action, not a feeling, I'd be proving Newton's third law of motion wrong...but I think he knew what he was talking about. Salud!