A Snapshot and The Scoop: A Cursed Place - or - The Second Time My Car Died (While Traveling)

I don't really believe in curses. Except that sometimes, maybe I do. I'm inclined to believe in bad vibes, at the very least, when it comes to being near Page, Arizona. The first time I was passing through Page I had to stay at a hotel where not one but two different rooms' bathrooms had plumbing issues. I was cold, exhausted, and recovering from the flu (sick while traveling, yuck) and in the end decided to say screw it and go without a shower. Okay, not so bad, right? First world problems and all that, nothing that would make me put Page on my black list of places I won't return to. The second time I was near Page I was travelling with my sister on our way to the Grand Canyon. We'd been sightseeing along the road and stopped at an overlook to get a view of the desert from a plateau. We weren't even out of the car for five minutes, and when we returned it wouldn't start. You can read about that whole issue here. This time around, I was passing through the area at sunset on a rather cold and windy February evening and decided I was finally going to make the trek to the Horseshoe Bend overlook, 3/4 of a mile round trip from a dusty parking lot brimming with other vehicles and a line-up of port-a-potties. I took Hoodoo with me as we made the short walk, saw the Colorado River far below, watched the sun set beyond the distant mountains, and walked back to the car. Which wouldn't start. Because of course it wouldn't. By the time I looked around I was the last one in the parking lot and felt panic constrict my chest as I considered that it was likely nobody would come by until morning. Fortunately by some miracle I had cell service (thank you, Verizon) and was able to call my husband, but what was he going to do to help me, so many hundreds of miles away? Then I noticed construction lights and all but ran to wave down a couple of guys for help. They jumped the car and pointed me in the direction of Page, two miles down the road. I barely held back tears of relief when my car started and I made it to the closest Walmart. Their auto department was closing but the gentleman was kind enough to stay late and help me determine the problem, then purchase and change out the battery while I shivered in the desert's winter night. By the way, this was a whole new car, different from the one whose battery had died last time. My car ordeal only delayed me by an hour or so (I was on my way to meet up with Torrey in Mesquite, NV), but it definitely has me thinking twice about traveling near Page again. I will anyway because that area is a hotbed of desert recreation and I'm a sucker for those red rock canyons, but the next time I go anywhere near Page I'll be sure to time my arrival in broad daylight with a full tank of gas, other emergency necessities, and might even wear a good luck charm or two. Just to be safe. Anybody got a talisman I could borrow?

Leave me a comment and tell me about any place where you seem to keep running into bad luck. It doesn't even need to be while traveling; is there a cafe you avoid, or a road you won't turn down?

Four Years in Texas

Settled. I moved to Texas four years ago today, but who's counting? I am, apparently, even though this year I had to go back and double check the date I moved, way back on that blustery winter day. I guess the number of years I've spent down here aren't feeling as relevant to me anymore as I settle deeper into life with my husband, pets, home, and career. And I don't think that's a bad thing; the more I lose track of the time, the less I feel like a transplant trying to grow roots. At the risk of a bad analogy, my roots have finally dug deep into the red dirt of the Piney Woods in East Texas. And so, what has the last year brought for me?

Jared and I have finally settled in to our new house. Everything's unpacked, and if it's not unpacked it's because we rarely need it and it's sufficiently organized. I've been working on home improvement projects that make our house more of a home, including finally putting together a vegetable garden. I've wanted one for years, though we weren't quite settled enough by the time growing season in Texas came around last year for us (read: me) to be able to plant anything. This year's my year, though! I've been prepping my not-so-little garden plot since September, and already have potatoes in the ground for the spring/summer growing season. If I do things correctly I should also manage to hit the summer/autumn growing season for most veggies, and get even more out of year one.

Our personal zoo is thriving. While we unfortunately lost a few within the last year, including my first hedgehog, Chesler, we also added to the family. Hoodoo and Rey, a brother/sister pair of kittens came to us at the end of July. Just this past weekend, I traveled up to Julia's house in Oklahoma to pick up our newest adoption: Bullet! Julia has been fostering this German Shepherd pup for a local (to her) rescue, where my husband saw his pictures. Jared saw something in Bullet that called to him, and so he applied for adoption. A couple weeks later, and here we are! Ghost and Bullet are around the same age (and size) and we expect them to get along like brothers. Speaking of dogs, we're almost at the one-year mark since Marley's last seizure. Marley seizured frequently after moving to Texas, but his last seizure was six weeks after we moved into our new house. Our lives have changed drastically on so many levels since moving that we can't pinpoint a single thing that may have been triggering those terrible fits, but if he's no longer having them I am definitely not going to question it.

Jared and I both still work at Tiger Creek, which really has been business as usual.  I never, ever want to take my experiences for granted, but working with and raising new animals has become such an integral part of my life that I can't imagine myself without it. We raised a lion cub, you guys. A lion! And a cougar cub. And a lemur. And I may or may not be able to scratch an itch and go to work to get raccoon cuddles whenever I want. Because I love domestic animals with all my heart, but the wild ones are something special.

My traveling hasn't stopped. As a matter of fact, my (new) fridge is already becoming overwhelmed by the magnets I collect from the places I visit. I'm actually looking at magnetic alternatives, because I might be running out of room. You can read about the last year's adventures here, but suffice it to say I'm still travelling at every chance I get, with or without a partner. I've been developing my style as a hobby photographer as well, focusing on landscape but also fairly proud of my animal photography. It takes a certain amount of skill and no small amount of cooperation from your subject to get a good photo of an animal, whether in the wild or in captivity, and I feel like I'm taking strides in learning how to do so.

I remember those first few months after moving down here and feeling like my life never settled down, even though I expected it to. Now, I feel like my life has settled, but at a faster pace. Not so much a high-speed wobble anymore, more like cruising along the interstate with nothing in your way to slow you down. And I don't intend to slow down. I enjoy being busy, always having something going on, whether it's work related, something to do at the house, seeking new adventures on the road, or caring for animals (which can be either work-related or personal - or both). I am somehow managing to balance my home life, my work life, and my travel life, with a fair amount of finesse. I'm not saying it's perfect; I'm not saying me taking off on my own is easy for Jared, left to take care of all our animals, go to work, and come home to do it all over again by himself. I'm not saying I don't miss him, my animals at home, and my animals at work when I'm gone. And as much as we try, Jared and I still slip up and bring work home with us, especially if there's an animal that requires extra care. But we make it happen. I am able to work, yet I have a life at home, and I'm able to be home, yet still travel to my heart's content. And all the while there are threads of something animal-related in every aspect of my life. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Four years in Texas. Here's to another one.

Grandmaster Ultra: Day Two and Tear-Down

Impressed. Day two at the aid station began with voices. I was more than a little disoriented waking up to find the RV ceiling a few inches from my nose, bunked as I was in the little bed above the driver's seat. Johnny, our ham radio friend, was chatting with Torrey and Carrie, something about the runners and their locations, or something. I'm still not quite sure. It took me a good while to wake up enough to realize I'd slept well past the two-hour time limit I'd set for myself, and dawn's first light was leaking across the horizon. Even that realization wasn't enough to get me out of the cocoon of blankets wrapped around Hoodoo and I, but when Torrey started making pancakes I dragged myself to the table. With dawn brought other runners who had slowed down overnight but were eager to make up distance with first light. We kept up a stream of warmed food, and Johnny provided a thermos of (real, not instant) coffee. Let me tell you how those zombie-walking runners perked up when they heard we had real coffee!

It wasn't too long after I woke that we had a bit of an emergency pop up. A call from another aid station came over the radio for medical assistance, possibly an ambulance or even a life-flight. Over the radio chatter we gathered a male runner was lying on the ground, though it was unclear if he was non-responsive. It was clear that he was not able to be transported in a bumpy side-by-side ATV, though. Through Johnny and Base, they got an ambulance on the way to the area from wherever the closest hospital was, and I flagged down a race volunteer who happened to be driving by on an ATV on some mission of his own. He agreed to return to base and guide the ambulance to the aid station with the runner, and it was with nerves on edge that we kept an ear to the radio, waiting to see what would happen. It wasn't too long after that the volunteer returned with an EMT buckled into the passenger seat of his vehicle, flying down the road past us to get to the runner. Maybe five minutes later a car drove towards base, driven by one of the aid station's volunteers (who happened to be another aunt of Torrey's, and a nurse), with the runner and EMT in the back seat. The last I'd heard (though I didn't ask after we left the race) was that he was still in the hospital recovering from hypothermia and a few related issues. I sure hope he's okay now!

The second day of the race saw a few other injuries, including a broken arm, a few busted faces, and a myriad of other bumps, scrapes, and bruises. The course was not kind, featuring rough, ankle-twisting rocks that seemed intent on tripping tired runners. It was no surprise we had a some runners go down, a few on more than one occasion. Fortunately, only the one gentleman was hospitalized that we heard about, so we'll take that as a win. In addition to the exhausted runners from the first day, a new set of runners began the morning of the second day, consisting of those running shorter distances. Our aid station was busy for a time as those fresh runners passed through, but a lot of them breezed by without stopping, intent on the finish line only four miles away. Unfortunately, the new day also brought new weather, and we had to contend with a few flurries of snow showers that were sure to make the runners miserable. It cleared up as the day went on, and as the runners began to wind down we had a few linger in the warmth of our RV, not quite ready to face the chill again.

We met some truly inspiring people. Women who I want to be when I grow up, including a 48 hour racer (read: run as far as possible within the 48 hour time limit) sporting bright pink hair and fantastic tattoos with her own book out in bookstores, a 50 K racer with a bright personality who insisted she'd get lost on course and begged us to help keep her straight and who came back once she'd finished to hug each of us and thank us for being out there (she only got turned around once, and it was on the other side of the course from us), and a woman who was running (and finished!!) her first 100 miler. Can we talk about persistence for a second? Because holy cow, I want to have even half of the will power of these women. Then there were those who stayed long enough to have conversations with, where we met a man who had lost his wife, found ultra running, and carries her picture pinned onto his backpack every race he does. I'm not normally emotional, and I made it through most of his story about losing his wife to cancer and all that entailed with interest, but as soon as he pulled his jacket aside to show us her picture and explain that he never remarried, even after nearly 20 years, because he was still in love, I lost it. I took one look at that picture, at the love I could see in his eyes and hear in his voice, and let the tears flow. It took a little while to get myself back under control after that one. We definitely felt the gratitude of most of the runners that day as they wrapped up their races. Nearly every one of them thanked us personally, taking the time to ask our names and praise us for volunteering to help out, thanking us for being out there and providing what we could for them. Those who came in to our RV, to warm up or to rest or to use the restroom, all gave Hoodoo a little love if he was out and about. The cat even curled up with the people who came in to nap for a few minutes!

As the sun set and the desert cooled even more we lit up the RV and laid our trail of glow sticks, beckoning runners to light and food and warmth. Johnny and I spent a while communicating with the other aid stations and base, trying to get a list of those who were still on the course and those who had dropped out or finished. In the end, with extensive cross-checking, we got a list of a few names to watch out for as night settled in around us. Johnny was invaluable in this, as we were able to keep track of who had passed what station, and could judge about when they should reach each point on the course. I realized I was worried about those men and women, cared about their safety and well-being, most of whom were entering their second nights of running/walking, most of whom had been awake for that long, and most of whom were exhausted. We took a great deal of care in marking what time each person arrived at our station and what time they left, radioing in to base to let them know when each was on their way to the finish line.

After pulling a 20-hour day, I finally passed out after trading Torrey and Carrie our watch chairs for the bed. I felt like I'd barely laid down when I woke up to the sound of vehicles driving the road, noting that dawn had come and gone and the sun was well above the horizon. Torrey and Carrie were asleep on the other bed, which told me our last runner had finished the race. With quite words we got up and packed the supplies, most of which Torrey and Carrie had done while I'd slept. We drove back to base, where tear-down was a subdued affair, exhaustion a physical presence among the group of race directors and volunteers. We cleaned the RV then helped clear the supplies and waited for runners to come pick up their drop bags. I hung around and chatted with Carrie, Torrey, and her family, as we traded stories from the aid stations and talked about the race overall. Every one of those runners amazed me, and I have nothing but respect for them and their ability to even attempt to do something so grueling. I told everyone this just before I left to continue my desert adventures for a few more days, and I'll say it again now: I had a wonderful time volunteering with this race, and it's inspired me to look into volunteering at other races closer to home. I think I've found yet another annual trip to add to my growing list, and now I can't wait until next year!

Miss Part One? Read it here!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Hoodoo's Second Mom

My little orange adventure kitty has two moms. He may not live with his second mom, and he only gets to see her when we adventure together or I'm visiting her back in Nebraska, but there is no doubt Torrey is Hoodoo's mom just as much as I am. She's known him almost as long as I have, as he traveled with me to Pike's Peak last year just after I got him, and then proceeded to climb six 14'ers with Torrey and I. This cat is clearly comfortable with her, choosing to go to her, climb on her shoulders, and calls out for her when he knows she's nearby but not within his eyesight. He'll follow after her if she walks away, and spends half his nights of adventuring sleeping in her bag instead of mine. This little ball of fluff even chooses to spend a car ride on her lap rather than mine! It's okay, I'm not jealous at all (maybe just a little). Seriously, though, I'm so happy Hoodoo has accepted Torrey into his adventuring routine just as easily as he's taken to adventuring itself. And if I hand him off to her on the roof of an RV while volunteering at the Grandmaster Ultra, and he just happens to climb into her lap like he belongs there? So be it. That just cements her place as my sister as far as Hoodoo and I are concerned.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Joshua Trees

Please bear with me as I let my inner plant-nerd see the sun for a minute: There are Joshua Trees in Arizona!!!! I had NO idea!! Granted, I know very little about these plants outside what I know about Joshua Tree National Park in California (and the fact that assholes cut some down during the government shutdown because they're pieces of shit who don't deserve to walk this earth, but that's besides the point) so when I first saw them at our Aid Station while volunteering at the Grandmaster Ultra I was convinced they were something else. When I finally got back to reliable cell reception I looked them up, and sure enough, Joshua Trees can grow in certain places within Nevada and Arizona! So I spent a handful of days camping and hanging out in a Joshua Tree forest, right in the little desert corner of Arizona, Nevada, and Utah, and that knowledge just tickles me pink! And to think, I let Hoodoo climb around on these trees, and may or may not have spent a good amount of time taking pictures of them and him. Seriously y'all, it's the little things!

Leave me a comment below and let me know if you've ever seen a Joshua Tree. Aren't they neat!?

Grandmaster Ultra: Set-Up and Day One

Interested. I've never volunteered at a marathon before. Actually, my experience with races extends to a couple of 5k's I've run throughout the last few years and the Pikes Peak Marathon every August where I cheer Torrey and her dad on from the comfort of a pile of boulders on the mountain top. When Torrey's aunt and uncle mentioned they were directing an Ultra, back when I saw them in Manitou Springs over the summer, I was excited to volunteer my help. I had no idea what exactly my help would involve, but I was happy and willing to do anything they needed. Also, ya know, hanging out in the desert for a few days during February was kind of a draw.

Now, for those of you who don't know an Ultra is exactly what it sounds like: a super extra race, either requiring extensive effort on the part of a runner but at a normal distance (a marathon or half marathon, for example) or requiring extensive effort on the part of a runner but at a decidedly not normal distance - say, 50-100 miles. Or more. After hiking Pikes Peak's Barr Trail last summer I have mad respect for those who run that race under a time limit, and can totally see how it would be considered an Ultra. For this particular race, the Grandmasters Ultra, there were a number of different distances a runner could enter, the longest of which is a 100 mile course to be completed within 48 hours. Perhaps the most interesting part of this race was the qualifications to be met by entrants: they must be 50 years or older to participate. So to recap, I volunteered to help a 100 mile, 48 hour race ran by a bunch of adults over the age of 50. And you know what? I loved every minute of it.

Oh, and I was allowed to bring my cat. Hoodoo and I arrived in Mesquite, NV late in the evening after a 20 hour drive plus a broken-down car (more on that in a different post). I met Torrey and her friend, Carrie, at their hotel and after getting settled and introducing myself and the cat to Carrie, promptly passed out. The next day was spent helping Torrey's aunt, uncle, and dad get whatever they needed done before the start of the race the following day. It was a long day and a late night of sorting supplies, running the packet pick-up table with Torrey and Carrie, and otherwise getting ready for the inaugural race, and it was far too early the next morning when our alarm went off, prompting us to get to the starting line then out to the Aid Station we would be manning for the next 48 hours. As long as there was a runner on the course, we would be there to help them.

Our aid station, number 4, was situated at the corner of two desert dirt roads doubling as part of the ultra's course, four miles from the finish line. We drove out in a rented RV with our supplies and runners' drop bags, eager to set up and welcome the first runners a few hours after their start at 8am. We weren't alone out there; in addition to the RV where Torrey, Carrie, Hoodoo, and I were to offer food, water, and heat to runners who wanted them we were joined by a ham radio operator named Johnny Rauzi, call sign k7zzq with the Virgin Valley Amature Radio Club - Mesquite. Johnny was to be our communication with the start/finish line (base) and the other three aid stations along the course. He helped us set up the RV, taught us how to work the thing (I've had limited experience with "luxury" camping, as I usually prefer a tent, but did used to travel with my family in our camper for summer vacations), and generally helped us keep track of the runners on course.

That first day flew by. I made sure to take some time to wander along the dusty road and meander through the scrub brush and Joshua Tree desert, taking Hoodoo with me and snapping pictures as I went. We were in a wide valley, with a ridge to the west and north and mountain ranges to the east and south. It was a beautiful place, far enough removed from the hustle of the interstate four miles distant but close enough that we had a fairly constant stream of visitors in vehicles and side-by-sides. We never really got hit by a lot of runners all at once; mostly they came individually or in pairs, only occasionally overlapping. We provided foods you'd expect while exerting a large amount of energy, including fruits, chips, potatoes, candy, and meats, as well as water and electrolyte drinks. As evening fell and the temperature dropped we powered up the lights and heat, preparing noodles, grilled cheeses, and quesadillas for those who would come throughout the night. Most of the runners wouldn't sleep until they completed the course, and if they were up then so were we. Torrey, Carrie, and I took it in turns to nap when we could, but never left our aid station without someone to greet the runners.

Overnight is when things became entrancing. We lit up our station with a small fire and the RV lights, and at the request of a rather, um, interesting, runner Torrey ran out along the trail to mark the way with glow sticks. I have to be honest here, at this point my memory is a little foggy regarding the rest of the night. Exhaustion, excitement, and awareness combined to make things bleed together. I mostly remember the frigid desert night and thinking that if I was cold, when I could get into the RV and warm up, then I was miserably sympathetic for the runners out on the course walking by themselves through the desert night. All I know is that when Carrie woke up and it was my turn to sleep I crawled into the bunk, snuggled down next to Hoodoo (who'd already claimed the bed as his) and passed out within seconds.

Check back next week for the second day of the Grandmaster Ultra!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Indian Tunnel

Named for stone rings left behind by ancestral Shoshone tribes, Indian Tunnel is one of the few lava tubes visitors are allowed to explore without a guide. Formed by rivers of lava, the hardened shell of the tube was left empty as the lava moved away, leaving small caves beneath the baking black surface of the Arco Desert at Craters of the Moon National Monument in central Idaho. Thirty feet high, fifty feet wide, and around 800 feet long, my sister and I spent some time exploring this lava tube during our visit to the monument, where we listened to rock doves coo from recessed alcoves in the cave's ceiling. You wouldn't think there would be much water in the desert, and you'd be right if you were at surface level. Get below ground, however, and you find a cool respite from the desert heat and enough water to allow passersby to survive. Craters of the Moon stayed with us from the first time we visited more than ten years ago with our family, and my sister and I were eager to revist on last summer's adventure. Though we didn't get too much spelunking in during our time, we didn't leave disappointed. I can't wait till we can go back!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Grand Teton

Formed by earthquakes along the Teton Fault, the Teton Range at the center of Grand Teton National Park in northwestern Wyoming houses some of North America's youngest mountains, and they're still growing up. The Teton's sharp ridges speak of their age, as time has yet to dull their peaks with wind, water, and ice. The Tetons soar above the surrounding plains, sticking out from the surrounding mountains in the western states as something to be envied. We certainly spent a good amount of time getting to know those mountains during our time backpacking in the park, but we still only scratched the surface. Grand Teton, I can't wait till we meet again.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Fumaroles

Fumaroles, also known as steam vents, are the hottest of Yellowstone's geothermal wonders. Usually located on hillsides well above a basin's water supply, any moisture a fumarole receives is instantly boiled away into a steamy eruption, accompanied by a whooshing roar as the water vapor is forcefully ejected from the vent. You can always hear a fumarole before you see it, though the cloude of steam issuing from the ground is also a giveaway. We saw so much neat geothermal activity while at Yellowstone, and it only served as a reminder that we were literally standing in the cauldera of a massive active volcano. How cool is that??