Our journey started out with Mac pounding two Negro Modelos while crossing the Golden Gate and us making it two-and-a-half hours North to Harbin Hot Springs, the ethereal baths of the gods (i.e. naked retreat for liberal-thinking Bay Area-ites).
After soaking, sobering up, and exfoliating our bodily fumes, we headed North along 101. The first revelation that we'd left our modern world in San Francisco came when I spotted a pinhead-sized frog in the pygmy forest off the Mendocino Coast. If you don't know what a pygmy forest looks like, imagine bonsai trees on plant steroids. The shrunken, Neon frog looked like he'd just shed his flipper for legs. Uncertain of himself, he took it slow and wobbly. We stared at him for a while, hiked on, and stayed the night off a 10-mile stretch of preserved dunes.
Dunes in California - like black bears in california - are a dying breed. Attempts at saving the dunes and the roads from erosion marked the area. But Californians like their beach houses and will do anything to save that million-dollar view.
My second revelation came upon following the turquoise, crystalline Eel River road up the Mendocino Coast to Humbolt County. This beautiful ravine, while impeccable in its natural state, is even better bottled. The label on an Eel River Porter says "brewed with the finest certified organic hops and barley." I'm on my second today and think the label needs a little marketing work to bring this beer to the masses. It should say, "the best bottled porter ever."
We picked up this wonderful nectar at the co-op in Arcata, an idealistic town which epitomizes everything good and bad about Humbolt County. Good because it touts environment, some of the world's best bud, and green-card toting, brown-bag carrying thinking individuals. Bad because it sits smack dab North of the desolate logger town of Eureka. The dichotomy reminds me of what Austin used to be like - Rednecks living with Hippies.
Third revelation: The second tiniest frog ever. Mac spotted this one in Redwoods National and State Park. Frogs, I believe (without cheating by looking at wikipedia), signify rebirth. The fact that we saw two says something, right? This induced a long discussion of amphibian symbolism among the world's tallest trees. California has been good to us
Monday, May 22, 2006
Saturday, May 20, 2006
5/20/2006 Salvage This (imagine my big, white ass hanging out) Congress!
On most long backpacking trips, I try to avoid all things that boil me up - like politics and big cars. Since staying away from the latter proves impossible on a cross-country stateside road trip, I've chosen to at least neglect my obligation to read news.
So the other day, when I picked up a newspaper - a second-rate, small-town Montana paper at that - one of the stories pretty much undid the last four weeks of cum-bayas, nature walks, and meditation. Deeply hidden in the national news section on page 17 (between a story about Mother's Day events and the surging real estate prices) revealed a snippet on the House passing the Salvage Logging Bill (under the ubiquitously pleasing moniker "Forest Emergency Recovery and Research Act").
This bill, err act, proposed by Reps. Greg Walden (R-OR) and Brian Baird (D-WA), speeds up the environmental review process on some federal lands of downed trees caused by fire, weather, insect infestation, or other occurrence. Federal agencies would have to finalize fallen tree timber sales within 120 days (30 days for the decision and 90 days for the comment period).
In layman's terms, this means that, according to the bill's promoters, salvage trees are dead and therefore don't do a damn thing for the forest. Once down, they have no use. Accelerating the process in clearing these trees and turning them into usable timber before they rot helps regenerate damaged forests - or so supporters frame it.
While this seems practical, it's just not accurate. Downed trees provide life, regeneration, and essential nutrients to a forest - damaged or healthy. This isn't just how I see it. Science agrees. According to the Register-Guard, "169 scientists, including some of the nation's most prominent fire ecologists, warned that the bill could profoundly damage sensitive post-fire ecosystems by disturbing soils, causing erosion, removing wildlife nesting and feeding sites, reducing the nutrients and shade needed to help new trees to grow, and leaving behind debris that can increase fire risk."
Granted, as an American citizen, it's sometimes difficult to see the truth behind garbled, exploitative politics. Unless you've walked an old-growth or second-growth forest and seen these fallen trees, it's hard to imagine life that might come from them. It's hard to imagine hemlocks and elms growing on another elm's carcass. Or imagine that a bald eagle's nest can survive atop this new-life-from-death formation.
It's also hard to imagine what life in the forest would look like without these fallen giants. What kind of runoff, erosion, and more dead trees might occur without dead ones? What would happen to the soil if the acidity were removed? How could the full ecosystem (insects, birds, bears) evolve without proper nutrients or cover to promote constant growth? Fallen trees have as much a purpose to life as live, erect ones.
Sitting behind a desk and thinking about these things differs vastly from strapping on a pair of hiking boots and tromping through wilderness. But I don't expect every representative to be like John Muir, father of our national parks, who stopped theorizing and set out in nature to really understand its scope. All I ask is that our senators and reps at least respect science. But I guess that's way too much to ask.
I mean afterall, what can I expect from an administration that has set air and water quality standards back to 1960s standards? That has allowed oil drilling in preserved lands but banned endangered species acts? That has blocked out immigrants but wages war? That has ignored the Kyoto Protocol while tampering with scientific facts in the EPA Report on the Environment.
The atrocities are numerous.
So why do such laws continue to pass? Why does the House majority continue to neglect science and rubber stamp environmentally erosive laws? I think Walden, head proponent of the bill, gives the nonsensical reasoning best:
"As Americans, we like our wood products."
So the other day, when I picked up a newspaper - a second-rate, small-town Montana paper at that - one of the stories pretty much undid the last four weeks of cum-bayas, nature walks, and meditation. Deeply hidden in the national news section on page 17 (between a story about Mother's Day events and the surging real estate prices) revealed a snippet on the House passing the Salvage Logging Bill (under the ubiquitously pleasing moniker "Forest Emergency Recovery and Research Act").
This bill, err act, proposed by Reps. Greg Walden (R-OR) and Brian Baird (D-WA), speeds up the environmental review process on some federal lands of downed trees caused by fire, weather, insect infestation, or other occurrence. Federal agencies would have to finalize fallen tree timber sales within 120 days (30 days for the decision and 90 days for the comment period).
In layman's terms, this means that, according to the bill's promoters, salvage trees are dead and therefore don't do a damn thing for the forest. Once down, they have no use. Accelerating the process in clearing these trees and turning them into usable timber before they rot helps regenerate damaged forests - or so supporters frame it.
While this seems practical, it's just not accurate. Downed trees provide life, regeneration, and essential nutrients to a forest - damaged or healthy. This isn't just how I see it. Science agrees. According to the Register-Guard, "169 scientists, including some of the nation's most prominent fire ecologists, warned that the bill could profoundly damage sensitive post-fire ecosystems by disturbing soils, causing erosion, removing wildlife nesting and feeding sites, reducing the nutrients and shade needed to help new trees to grow, and leaving behind debris that can increase fire risk."
Granted, as an American citizen, it's sometimes difficult to see the truth behind garbled, exploitative politics. Unless you've walked an old-growth or second-growth forest and seen these fallen trees, it's hard to imagine life that might come from them. It's hard to imagine hemlocks and elms growing on another elm's carcass. Or imagine that a bald eagle's nest can survive atop this new-life-from-death formation.
It's also hard to imagine what life in the forest would look like without these fallen giants. What kind of runoff, erosion, and more dead trees might occur without dead ones? What would happen to the soil if the acidity were removed? How could the full ecosystem (insects, birds, bears) evolve without proper nutrients or cover to promote constant growth? Fallen trees have as much a purpose to life as live, erect ones.
Sitting behind a desk and thinking about these things differs vastly from strapping on a pair of hiking boots and tromping through wilderness. But I don't expect every representative to be like John Muir, father of our national parks, who stopped theorizing and set out in nature to really understand its scope. All I ask is that our senators and reps at least respect science. But I guess that's way too much to ask.
I mean afterall, what can I expect from an administration that has set air and water quality standards back to 1960s standards? That has allowed oil drilling in preserved lands but banned endangered species acts? That has blocked out immigrants but wages war? That has ignored the Kyoto Protocol while tampering with scientific facts in the EPA Report on the Environment.
The atrocities are numerous.
So why do such laws continue to pass? Why does the House majority continue to neglect science and rubber stamp environmentally erosive laws? I think Walden, head proponent of the bill, gives the nonsensical reasoning best:
"As Americans, we like our wood products."
Friday, May 12, 2006
5/12/2006 Vancouver Island: Where Biodiversity Still Flourishes
When we discovered that there was a U.N. biosphere reserve on Vancouver Island, we packed Charlie and headed north. And we weren't disappointed. I've never seen anything like this before. Clayoquot Sound Biosphere Reserve looks like tropical Panama, mountainous Northern California, and lush Alaska fused into one. It's one of the most unique places I've ever experienced.
The drive from Victoria, Vancouver Island, to the reserve led us through clear rivers, coniferous forests, snowy peaks, and curvaceous roads. (Not to mention that the average speed limit is 80 kph, so it took half a day to go 230 km.) Four hours into the drive we spotted our first black bear. He/she was hanging over the guardrail - the guardrail! - observing passing traffic. Upon noticing the black goliath, I might have hit cross traffic if there actually were any. The bear looked at us, and kept his coolness. He stayed stationary - two paws hanging over man-made steel - as we screeched slowly by. Whoa. I had a feeling I'd see amazing wildlife on Vancouver Island.
As the driver, I relished the ethereal citing until we reached Tofino, surfer/sea town north in the reserve. We decided to lodge at a private campground only a few kilometers from town center. That night, we walked into town looking for a bar. But we encountered our first realization of BC - this is First Nation country. In other words, the tribes (i.e. Inuit) dislike liquor. So getting licensed is rough. We settled on Days Inn Marine Pub - the only pub in town. But we didn't care. It overlooked the bay and splinter of lush islands spotting the horizon.
After a bellyfull of Canadian Spring lager and seafood chowder, we headed back to camp, keeping an eye out for guardrail-hugging black bear.
The next day, we hiked Pacific Rim National Park, which provides insight into the cultural and ecological surroundings. The reason the U.N. named this a biosphere reserve is because the 60 km region offers bog forests, one of the last temperate rain forests in the world, long Pacific beach fronts, tidal pools, and burgeoning, diverse wildlife. During our time in the region, we viewed black bear, bald eagles, starfish, hawks, sea lions, and loads of banana slugs. But we missed a lot - like humpback whales, jaguar, and wolves.
Over the next few days, we went sea kayaking, scared ourselves silly (ok, myself silly) listening to late-night phantom bear paws, made morning treks to tidal pools, and discovered why rain forests - even temperate ones - keep everything green. Minus the clandestine pubs, this has got to be one of the best kept secrets on our planet.
The drive from Victoria, Vancouver Island, to the reserve led us through clear rivers, coniferous forests, snowy peaks, and curvaceous roads. (Not to mention that the average speed limit is 80 kph, so it took half a day to go 230 km.) Four hours into the drive we spotted our first black bear. He/she was hanging over the guardrail - the guardrail! - observing passing traffic. Upon noticing the black goliath, I might have hit cross traffic if there actually were any. The bear looked at us, and kept his coolness. He stayed stationary - two paws hanging over man-made steel - as we screeched slowly by. Whoa. I had a feeling I'd see amazing wildlife on Vancouver Island.
As the driver, I relished the ethereal citing until we reached Tofino, surfer/sea town north in the reserve. We decided to lodge at a private campground only a few kilometers from town center. That night, we walked into town looking for a bar. But we encountered our first realization of BC - this is First Nation country. In other words, the tribes (i.e. Inuit) dislike liquor. So getting licensed is rough. We settled on Days Inn Marine Pub - the only pub in town. But we didn't care. It overlooked the bay and splinter of lush islands spotting the horizon.
After a bellyfull of Canadian Spring lager and seafood chowder, we headed back to camp, keeping an eye out for guardrail-hugging black bear.
The next day, we hiked Pacific Rim National Park, which provides insight into the cultural and ecological surroundings. The reason the U.N. named this a biosphere reserve is because the 60 km region offers bog forests, one of the last temperate rain forests in the world, long Pacific beach fronts, tidal pools, and burgeoning, diverse wildlife. During our time in the region, we viewed black bear, bald eagles, starfish, hawks, sea lions, and loads of banana slugs. But we missed a lot - like humpback whales, jaguar, and wolves.
Over the next few days, we went sea kayaking, scared ourselves silly (ok, myself silly) listening to late-night phantom bear paws, made morning treks to tidal pools, and discovered why rain forests - even temperate ones - keep everything green. Minus the clandestine pubs, this has got to be one of the best kept secrets on our planet.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
5/10/2006 (I think): Canada - Europe with American-Sized Cars
It took us 45 minutes to cross the Washington-to-Canada border. And this was Saturday, around 11 a.m., when you should expect crowds. But unlike the Mexico-America border, we weren't even asked for our passports or for a few bucks to wash our windshield. We could stay here forever, smoke buckets-full of marijuana without being sent to jail, and live cheaper than most places in the States (the current exchange rate is 7-to-1).
Canadians joke that America is the 9,000-square-mile border left behind. In many ways, they've got it right. I mean Canadians take things slower, enjoy more pacifistic politics, revere nature and the English queen, and don't even lock their doors at night. (Sure this comes from Michael Moore movies, but the Canadians concede to this social phenomena.) And then there's free health care, beautiful views, and the nicest people you've met on earth.
After spending three months living in Ireland, I had many complaints. Namely that the Irish abhorred diversity. They had terrific stout, rugged bogs, and were the nicest people in Europe, but it got boring there. Everyone was white and Catholic. I need more diversity to survive. That's where the Canadians differ. They offer benevolent spirits alongside great Thai food, Buddhist temples, and African art. Oh, and the scenery is spectacular. Other than the large cars and the occasional Starbucks, Canada (B.C. anyway), resembles Europe more than America.
Curious about Canadian politics, Mac and I engaged a history major working the floors at the Victoria Wax Museum - in Vancouver Island - about Canadian culture, politics, and history. The would-be 30-minute Diane-and-Charles wax tour led us through a two-hour lesson in B.C. Canadian politics.
Among the highlights:
There are many more differences between us and Canada, including three-plus party politics and adherence to the Kyoto Protocol. The interesting thing is that Canadians must learn American politics, while we just learn American politics. Why is that? What are we, egocentric or something? There's more to this world than America. God to Allah, let's hope so. I don't know if Canadians are right. But fuck, at least they're different, eh?
Canadians joke that America is the 9,000-square-mile border left behind. In many ways, they've got it right. I mean Canadians take things slower, enjoy more pacifistic politics, revere nature and the English queen, and don't even lock their doors at night. (Sure this comes from Michael Moore movies, but the Canadians concede to this social phenomena.) And then there's free health care, beautiful views, and the nicest people you've met on earth.
After spending three months living in Ireland, I had many complaints. Namely that the Irish abhorred diversity. They had terrific stout, rugged bogs, and were the nicest people in Europe, but it got boring there. Everyone was white and Catholic. I need more diversity to survive. That's where the Canadians differ. They offer benevolent spirits alongside great Thai food, Buddhist temples, and African art. Oh, and the scenery is spectacular. Other than the large cars and the occasional Starbucks, Canada (B.C. anyway), resembles Europe more than America.
Curious about Canadian politics, Mac and I engaged a history major working the floors at the Victoria Wax Museum - in Vancouver Island - about Canadian culture, politics, and history. The would-be 30-minute Diane-and-Charles wax tour led us through a two-hour lesson in B.C. Canadian politics.
Among the highlights:
- Canada operates under a Westminister System, a democratic system of government following parliamentary rule (i.e. parliament more powerful than executive branch). Constitutional monarchy; federal parliamentary democracy
- Party discipline in Canada controls most elections. MPs (members of Parliament, similar to our house representatives) follow and vote along party consensus. If one aborts party vote, votes becomes benign
- Head of state: Queen Elizabeth II; Representative in Canada: Governor General Michaëlle Jean; Prime Minster: Stephen Harper
- Cabinet: around 30 ministers appointed by prime minister
- Legislative branch consists of two parts: Senate and House of Commons (upper and lower houses, respectively). Senate limited to 104 members, appointed by governor based on prime minster's rec; House of Commons currently at a little over 300, elected by plurality vote, for no longer than five-year term.
- Government provides campaign financing for incumbent - $1 dollar for every vote. Only minor private contributions allowed for competitors. Makes incumbents slightly favored
- Marijuana decriminalized
- Health insurance is free. Although waiting lists for operations can last up to two years
There are many more differences between us and Canada, including three-plus party politics and adherence to the Kyoto Protocol. The interesting thing is that Canadians must learn American politics, while we just learn American politics. Why is that? What are we, egocentric or something? There's more to this world than America. God to Allah, let's hope so. I don't know if Canadians are right. But fuck, at least they're different, eh?
Saturday, May 6, 2006
5/6/2006 Travel Annals: Sandwiched Up, Snowed Out, Smoked In
It hasn't been all fun and games.
The first day we veer away from our typical PB&J lunch for a Subway sandwich (all veggie, mind you), I get food poisoning. The kind of food poisoning that rocks you five hours later, in a Portland brewhouse, when the waitress delivers bubbling spinach and artichoke cheese dip to your table. Thankfully, I made it to the loo, but not before I horrified the table with a look of panic, disgust, and dribble.
The projectile vomiting and severe shakes lasted for 48 hours, but not before I got a bite of that spinach-artichoke-cheese trigger. Looking back, it didn't look much better on the table than in the john.
Then there's been the snow factor. We've beaten the crowds at the national parks, at the campgrounds, and nearly everywhere. But for good reason. Most hikers and backpackers dislike snow packs. We entered Crater Lake Natlional Park - the deepest lake in the U.S. - only to encounter road closures and zero trail head openings.
Just two days ago, we entered Mt. Rainier National Park painfully. The south entrance was closed (without notice), and the only campsite at the mountain's base was being repaved. We found lodging, but expensively for $85/night. The next day, we trekked any open trail possible, and ended up footing snow up to our hips. At one point, I fell in, yelped "help!", and quickly dislodged my boot from its 3-foot hole.
Finally, there's been the lodging arrangements. I never realized how much I prefer sleeping outside in rolled-up nylon than indoors in cushioned beds. The Best Western unearthed this revelation. Online, the hotel chain touted a fitness center, sauna, indoor pool, warm bed, continental breakfast, and free paper for only $48. Whoa. Sounds like a deal, right? Well, we got rooked. The fitness center turned out to be three, 10-year-old machines. The sauna and indoor pool ended up being kid-infested urinals. The warm bed was in a smoker's room, where we coughed and hacked all night. And the paper was a USA Today. Ok. So the breakfast was pretty good, but it wasn't worth $48.
All that aside, we're in Canada now, on a car ferry to Vancouver Island. The air already smells fresher. The people seem more exotic. The geography appears more lush. And you can't bring RVs on the island. So things are looking up.
The first day we veer away from our typical PB&J lunch for a Subway sandwich (all veggie, mind you), I get food poisoning. The kind of food poisoning that rocks you five hours later, in a Portland brewhouse, when the waitress delivers bubbling spinach and artichoke cheese dip to your table. Thankfully, I made it to the loo, but not before I horrified the table with a look of panic, disgust, and dribble.
The projectile vomiting and severe shakes lasted for 48 hours, but not before I got a bite of that spinach-artichoke-cheese trigger. Looking back, it didn't look much better on the table than in the john.
Then there's been the snow factor. We've beaten the crowds at the national parks, at the campgrounds, and nearly everywhere. But for good reason. Most hikers and backpackers dislike snow packs. We entered Crater Lake Natlional Park - the deepest lake in the U.S. - only to encounter road closures and zero trail head openings.
Just two days ago, we entered Mt. Rainier National Park painfully. The south entrance was closed (without notice), and the only campsite at the mountain's base was being repaved. We found lodging, but expensively for $85/night. The next day, we trekked any open trail possible, and ended up footing snow up to our hips. At one point, I fell in, yelped "help!", and quickly dislodged my boot from its 3-foot hole.
Finally, there's been the lodging arrangements. I never realized how much I prefer sleeping outside in rolled-up nylon than indoors in cushioned beds. The Best Western unearthed this revelation. Online, the hotel chain touted a fitness center, sauna, indoor pool, warm bed, continental breakfast, and free paper for only $48. Whoa. Sounds like a deal, right? Well, we got rooked. The fitness center turned out to be three, 10-year-old machines. The sauna and indoor pool ended up being kid-infested urinals. The warm bed was in a smoker's room, where we coughed and hacked all night. And the paper was a USA Today. Ok. So the breakfast was pretty good, but it wasn't worth $48.
All that aside, we're in Canada now, on a car ferry to Vancouver Island. The air already smells fresher. The people seem more exotic. The geography appears more lush. And you can't bring RVs on the island. So things are looking up.
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