Greetings loyal subjects! Another long overdue update with lots of ground to cover, so with no further adieu...
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| Boots McGoots: snake wrangler |
As is par for the course, the good times have been flowing freely. After posting the last blog during the final days on Ascension Island, it was a quick turnaround to the beautiful waters of northern MN. Summer's sweet fruits abound and it was lackadaisical living in those long, warm, sunny days.
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| 'Dude', the awkward desert dog... |
The BWCA has remained a place unchanged that I have been fortunate enough to have known and loved since the days of being just a lil' whippersnapper. It has been an interesting and unexpected constant by which to view the changes of my own life. Upon each new arrival life becomes timeless. Everything stands still and the calm, clear waters act as a mirror both literally and metaphorically. If ever I have known a sanctuary, this would be it.
And once again, to prove to all of you doubters out there that I do actually work from time to time...
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| Dome inspection in NM |
See that shadowy, yet oh so handsome outline of a man up there? I swear that is me. Perhaps this will also clear up (for those who still seem baffled by the concepts) what a radome is. This one in particular belongs to National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. These are basically the people watching weather patterns. So after this short stint of work had come and gone it was time to make tracks.
Like the silent song a full moon sings in a crisp and calm winter night, potential for adventure and the open road hummed their sweet melodies and we howled in response. With that dreadful stretch of I-90 from MN to western SD behind us, we were once again pulled back to the center of the universe... the Black Hills.
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| Harney Peak in all its glory |
Fresh caught trout for breakfast. Terrifying life-flashing-before-your-eyes Needles spire climbing. Silence. What more could one ask for in a good time? Perhaps it is the romantic in me or maybe just a susceptibility to sentimentalism but it is hard to ignore the powerful and commanding feeling that the Black Hills owns and radiates. Hell, maybe it's just that when you are free to become engulfed in a deafening silence, the energy of a place can more easily be felt.
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| Hairy Pin stands proud |
For those who do not know a whole lot about climbing, there is a long and interesting history stocked with quirky characters and a plethora of tall tales. Each area has its own unique history, its own scene, its own ethics, not to mention just the setting and the stone vary so greatly from place to place that it makes for an incredible amount of diversity within the sport. The Needles of SD has a particularly long and strong history. To this day the area maintains what is called an "old school" (bold) ethic. Instead of boring you with the semantics, let's avoid that can of worms and just say this... you better have brass to match your bronze, if you catch my meaning. For instance, in the picture above is a spire called Hairy Pin. It, like many of the routes in the Needles, offers ground fall potential for most of the route. This is not to say that there is no protection at all, just not much. Quite often the little protection that is offered is laughable at best (we often call this 'psychological protection'). What this means is that when you are 10ft off the ground, an error on the climbers part could easily result in a broken ankle. When you are 60ft up the route... well, you get the idea. Hairy pin, along with a few other key spires remain historical test pieces that are not to be taken lightly. Such routes are often referred to as 'high pucker factor' routes.
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| Pretty face, pretty place |
So after a few days of getting the bejesus scared out of us, Ellen, dude and I packed up the Mothership and headed to Devils Tower. We only had a few short days to spare for the tower but I was lucky enough to get to climb one of those climbs that everyone who's anyone knows about... El Matador.
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| Looking up at the daunting Matador |
Here is a more visual photo of what the climb is like for almost 200 unrelenting feet.
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Boots McGoots: gender morphing rock climber extraordinaire
(yeah, you don't walk right for a few days after this climb) |
So after summiting the tower to look for aliens (we found none) and having made enough muscles sore that neither of us realized we possessed, we had to keep on keeping on. Next stop: Fremont Canyon!
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| The proud summit of Devil's Tower |
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| Matching a hatch in an unusual setting |
The clouds rolled and the winds picked up. What had felt like summer but a few days ago now seemed like a convincing fall. Gotta love Wyoming. Too cold and wet to climb, we set aside the climbing gear and picked up the fly rods (oh, I'm a sickly addicted to fly fishing now). With a mayfly hatch in full bloom, a herd of man sized trout scoured the waters in a deep pool I was blessed to stumble upon. Like a pack of ravenous wolves, they feasted mercilessly; no mayfly stood a chance. I tied a fly to match the poor helpless creatures and snuck it in amongst the hoards. BAM! A monster rose forth from the depths with lightning speed and a battle ensued that lasted for hours, hell maybe even days. His state of blood lust had propelled him to higher states of consciousness where he had dragged me along with him, tethered by a 3lb test line. Our outlines blurred. Where did the trout begin and I end? Where once were two adversaries beset against each other now remained only two friends with a deep mutual respect. I released the trout back into the water as the trout released me back into the Tao.
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| Pure joy |
After a few days of what will probably long stand as the best fly fishing I'll experience, life called us onward. Time to head to the beautiful state of Colorado. We packed up the Mothership and headed to Rocky Mountain National Park to meet up for a bit of a family reunion. We made a few detours on the way of course... figured it was best to make the most of the abundance of mind blowing recreation that Colorado hosts.
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| Ellen high on life and the Petit Grepon, Sky Pond below |
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| Incredible position in the heart of South Platte |
Such fun cant be funded without a bit of work. Time to pack the bags and head back to Germany. It seems safe to assume that no one here wants to read about work. Cause who really wants to read about Oktoberfest shenanigans and schnitzle anyways. So lets just fast forward a month, shall we?
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| Breakfast of champions |
Upon landing back in Colorado, the cool breath of winter sent shivers down our spines. We chased the wise geese and sought the warm embrace of more southern states. And which southern place could have a prettier face than southern Utah?
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| Horseshoe Bend |
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| Ellen getting squeezed. Canyoneering |
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| Two dweebs |
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| Castleton Tower's North Face |
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| Your favorite vagabond getting his ass handed to him. Indian Creek |
The winds of early winter kept pushing us south as we dodged snow storm after snow storm in the highlands of the desert. Finally after having had enough nights waking up to frozen water tanks in the truck, we had made it to our winter nesting spot... good ol' Arizona. 'Twas only a short while for relaxing; soon after arrival it was time to depart again. Pack yer bags boys and girls. We're going to the Marshall Islands.
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| Incredible sunset. Kwajalein, Marshall Islands. |
Welcome to Kwajalein, where the fish glow in the dark and the government literally vaporized two islands with extensive atom bomb testing. Looks like paradise, right? Well, look but don't touch... you'll get lead poisoning. Due to what I am coming to learn is pretty standard government planning/spending procedures, I ended up not working a single day in this three week work trip.
But the first rule of radome club is: never complain too loudly about a government paid vacation to the south Pacific in December (unless you are a dirty climber of little overall importance and your blog is chocked full of well placed whit and snarky comments). The second rule of radome club is:
never complain too loudly about a government paid vacation to the south Pacific in December (unless you are a dirty climber of little overall importance and your blog is chocked full of well placed whit and snarky comments). The third rule of radome club is: what happens in your man camp quarters (with walls consisting of mere shower curtains) with three other men, stays in your man camp quarters with three other men.
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| Boots McGoots: Tyler Durden |
Ya know what? No, I got a bone to pick with you people. You come here and read my blog and you think it's all sunsets and jet-setting but you don't see the dirt. You don't see the grime. You don't experience the things that I only wish I could forget. You don't know what its like to wake up to the alarm of your electrician bunk-mate's 6:30am bowel movement everyday for three weeks straight. You don't know where I've been, Lou!! You don't know where I've been!!!!!
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| Unusual colored grouper |
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| Remnants of the past |
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| Nurse sharks just waiting for a wayward snorkeler |
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| Garbage bridge |
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| Classic Pacific island beach shot |
Anywho, after laying down a most envy invoking tan it was back to MN for the holidays with the family. Quite a contrast there, aye? From Kwajalein to Minnesota in December? It was a quick two weeks spent in MN before a surprise work opportunity arose. Had enough of south Pacific tropical islands yet? I didn't think so. Onward; Okinawa awaits.
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| Okinawa climbing |
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| Tsunami wall |
It is here in my final days on this beautiful island that I write this blog. I have been here for over a month now. My woman (Ellen, for those who haven't yet figured that out) came out and spent three weeks here with me enjoying a vacation while I slaved away. Now I know how you people feel.
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| Fresh caught fish |
The highlight of the trip was a romantic getaway to some remote islands nearby called the Kerama Islands. Much laughter ensues when the language barrier is so great that you are reduced to a game of Charades with most people you need to communicate with.
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| Behold: Zamami Island |
There was one traffic light on the island, and an unnecessary one at that. Most streets wouldn't accommodate a single car and it was easy to notice that there were just virtually no cars driving around at all. It was silent (quite a contrast from Okinawa). We stumbled upon a fish market with a beautiful yellow fin tuna plucked fresh from the sea. A rather sizable piece of tuna which might cost you $20-$30 in the USA was less than $3 on Zamami. No need to cook it; it was immaculate.
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| The sun sets on Zamami, Kerama Islands, Okinawa, Japan |
January through April is also the time in which Humpback whales migrate to these warm waters. You are almost guaranteed to see a whale when you go out on a whale watching tours. There are a handful, of the hundreds that arrive, that are more notorious for one reason or another. We stumbled upon a big male named Zed. They have been monitoring Zed since he was born in those waters almost 27 years ago. The captain did an amazing job predicting where Zed would surface and we followed him around for a couple of hours as he chased a girl. We could see their monstrous bodies lingering lazily just under the surface as they would catch a few breaths before raising their tails as they effortlessly slipped back to the depths. Zed gave us a grand finale with a full body breach not more than 50ft from the boat. It was unreal.
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| Boots McGoots: National Geographic photographer |
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| Ellen watching 6 sea turtles gnomin' some seaweed in the protected waters below |
So there it is folks; another 6 months has come and gone. It's funny... I spend so much time putting one of these blogs together and it is over in an instant. What an appropriate metaphor. For all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be.
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| Boots McGoots: Shut up dood, it's not funny anymore |
