It's...a Long Story

VroooOOOOM ca-THUD. The car lurched forward before stalling out yet again. My co-intern Liz and I had been sitting in an increasingly pregnant silence as our driver struggled with the daunting logistical feat of leaving the parking lot. He, our “field specialist”

Zach, had learned to drive stick last week. Well, “learned.”

Ca-Thunk THUD. Our brief forward momentum was arrested for the Nth time that morning. Also for the Nth time that day, I found myself wondering vaguely whether Fearless Leader was going to kill us all. What if, god forbid, we faced a slight INCLINE?

Anyway, we were clearly going to be late to the march we were supposed to be covering as our "first assignment", and what did that mean for lunch? Maybe I could find a coffee shop. Man I loved coffee shops. Wonder if Zach and Liz would be down to find a coffee sh–VroooOOO THUD.

In between oaths cursing “this stupid car” and the world and the gods and whatever else, a quiet voice spoke up from the right side of the car (passenger side in this crazy place): ”I think…you need to have your foot...on both…?”

And so began the first and last assignment of our team of adventure travel environmental international journalists extraordinaire.

By some miracle, we all made it into Plett, a small coastal town an hour away, in one piece. Long straight highways were something Zach was apparently capable of wrapping his mind around. On our way in, we passed cars decorated with rhinos and elephants...the cars meant to be leading the World Animal Day march we had driven an hour to write about. 

Oh, so we weren't late to the event, we just missed it entirely...good, cool. 

"Well that's okay." Liz had three years of journalism experience under her belt, and was great at remaining outwardly calm even when fuming on the inside. "Let's just call our contact for the march."

"I mean, well, I WOULD, but this stupid phone they gave me doesn't have any minutes on it!" 

Some background: Zach's phone had been stolen his first day in Africa. While the rest of us were in a meeting about the safety hazards of carrying expensive things alone on the beach, Zach had been wandering alone with an expensive thing on the beach. See, Zach had come in as an intern the same month as I had. I was a research intern, and he was a journalism intern. Somewhere in there, his specialist left, and she decided it would cover her ass to just have him take her place. He couldn't drive a South African car, and didn't have a journalism degree, but hey! He was there. 

Zach spent his month as an intern building up the cocky self-assurance only an American who had barely been out of the country could possess; sleeping with the European girls who idolized him, ruthlessly poking fun at his fellow journalism intern from Hong Kong, and bragging about how he was going to get to stay on another month. I, meanwhile, avoided Zach like the plague and assured myself that an actual teacher would be hired while he stayed on as some sort of assistant. This was not the case.

Now, let's get back to what was happening in Plett. Liz listened to his complaint about lack of minutes, and inquired sympathetically whether they hadn't told him the phone had no minutes on it. "Well I mean YEAH they TOLD me! But like, I thought it would at least have like a couple minutes on it to call people, you know?! We're just going to have to stop at a gas station or something." 

Upon getting into town, we had stopped at a grocery store, and I remained silent in the back, taking notes on the day thus far and gnawing on biltong. Biltong is South African beef jerky, and it is delicious. I had procured springbok biltong with chilli powder. 

Zach parked the car and left to get minutes. I offered Liz a piece of biltong. "It has chilli!" Liz accepted the biltong and practiced, I presume, her deep breathing. Zach came back and announced he might be able to do his job and call the event contact. Liz suggested (not for the first time that day, as HER phone DID have minutes) that maybe she should just do it. Zach said that HE was the specialist, and it was HIS job to make calls. Only he could call anyone. Only him. Liz said "okay" in a manner I'm sure Zach thought was friendly. It was not. I sat in the back, using my remaining biltong piece like a pixie stick to scoop up the chilli powder in the bottom of the bag. 

The day turned out alright in the end. We talked to the media person for the march, who told us about another organization that has a after-school program for kids. She also told us about a bird of prey sanctuary we should look at on our way out of town. 

Look! An eagle!

Wooo artsy silhouette

Thant night Zach went out to party with the other interns. Liz and I stayed back to work on our writing assignments. Somewhere between Zach being too hungover to get us to Sunday's event on time, and Zach attempting to tell Liz how to be a better interviewer, Liz decided to leave the program. That afternoon, she and I discussed our course of action at the local coffee shop. As I munched on a brownie, she outlined all the ways in which this what not what we had signed up for. I threw in my two cents and agreed with everything she said. 

The Site of Scheming

We asked for a meeting with the CEO upon our return, and were told that a meeting was set up at 8:30am the next morning. At 8:30, Liz and I were ready with our comments and concerns. Namely: we don't have a teacher and he's probably going to kill us. Then 9:00am rolled around...then 9:30. I asked Kennedene, the "campus coordinator," when Katie would be arriving. Kennedene said she didn't know. I said we would wait until Katie arrived. Kennedene politely inquired as to whether there wasn't some story Liz and I were supposed to be covering that morning.

I said we would wait until Katie arrived.

Kennedene took out her phone to "contact Katie again." Sometime around 10am, Katie rolled in, claiming surprise that Kennedene has said we were meeting her at 8:30. She said the first she had heard of the meeting was 9:30. We were off to a great start.

There were a total of three meetings that day, during which Liz systematically laid out every way in which the program had f-ed us over, and Katie made increasingly desperate pleas for us to stay. She said there was a "Plan B, a guy who had extensive experience in environmental journalism, and could start right away!"

I said that should have been her Plan A. Her eyes said "well shit" but her mouth didn't say anything for a good ten seconds because what do you say to something that obviously true?

In the end they refunded less than half of our money. We paid for less than a week of room and board, and the honor of having our lives put at risk by the esteemed Oceans Campus crew.

For my last month in Africa, I am volunteering at an organic wine farm in Wellington, near Cape Town. It is very pretty here.

Baby cabernet sauvignon vineyard!

The hay is to keep weeds down because ORGANIC :D

Pretty mountains!

It's a RooOOOAAADDD TRIIIIIIPPP!!! (Part 2)

Thought I forgot about this, didn't ya? DIDN'T YA?

Well I don't blame you but you were wrong nonetheless.

ROAD TRIP PART TWO GRAND FINALE LET'S DO THIS

So, where were we?

Ahhh yes, the merry band of travelers were waving goodbye to San Francisco and hello to Northern California – Land of Wine and Redwoods. 

We had unwittingly been pulled in by the pretty pretty colors of the Pride Vortex and were off to a rather late start, but luckily this was a short driving day – road trips are not always about efficiency my friends! We had our fourth and final traveler to pick up, you see, and she lived just a quick jaunt up the cost. Her house also happened to be rather close to several breweries, which was of particular interest to one member of our group. (When Carissa’s brother decided to join us, the decision came with several Priority One brewery stops attached…boy likes his microbrew)

Pretty coastline :)

Deer grazes on the cliffs at Point Reyes

Our leisurely meander up the coast served a stark contrast to the hectic urban morning of rainbow edibles and glittery pixies we’d left behind. Rolling green hills, content cows, and rugged coastline greeted us as we left the bustle of the city, morphing into increasingly dense conifer forests as we drew north and inland. I drifted off for a few minutes and woke up to a world of tree trunks.

We had reached the Redwoods.

I have dreamed of seeing the Redwoods my entire life. When I realized I would finally visit California, these trees were first to mind. Oceans and pretty people and wine are all nice, but they aren’t quite so unique as the towering Redwood trees – the closest thing to Ents this side of Middle Earth. If we had had an extra week I likely would have planned out its entirety north of San Francisco. Alas, our road trip was already halfway over.

The gang gave two days to wandering and driving through various groves (made much easier by the fact that you really can’t help but drive through Redwood trees as you head up the coast). Beginning in a little state park near Santa Rosa, we gawked through the Avenue of Giants, and said our farewell on a misty evening in mossy Prairie Creek State Park. While I include photos here, there is a reason that National Geographic-quality photos of Redwoods are inevitably fold-outs. No normal camera (or page dimension) can capture the incredible scale. Having said that, I do, of course, have the obligatory car-through-Redwood tourist shot. Gimmicky? Sure. Fun? Absolutely.

Carissa is wary of our tree overlords

Such a big tree trunk!

I approve.

Whoa! It's a CAR going through a TREE!

While saying goodbye to the Redwoods was the group goal for our Prairie Creek stay, I had an additional motive for the night. A gastronomic experiment taking marshmallow-based foodstuffs to new heights…of diabetes maybe, but definitely new heights! Remember those s’mores poptarts and my undying love for them? Waaaay back in Joshua Tree? Thought you had heard the end of them? NOPE. These babies are about to make a comeback in a big way. Campfire grand finale folks, step right up.

For I had saved the LAST TWO s’mores poptarts from a car full of twenty-somethings for FOUR days. Why you ask? Why would I do such a thing? Well, I knew we would have one more campfire on the trip. And that campfire was going to be at Prairie Creek. And I had made a promise to my cousin. To construct the Ultimate S’more. The “S’mores S’more: God of S’mores.” My night had come to make good on that promise. Thus, the s’mores s’more rose from mere concept to reality. From idea to fact. And I photo-documented the entire process.

Traditional portion (and middle layer) of S'mores S'more: Graham Cracker topped with full Hershey's bar

S'mores Poptarts roast on the grill as we skewer roast four marshmallows
(one for each side of the graham cracker layer) to a golden brown

S'more is assembled over the fire – double-decker gooey goodness

A glimpse inside the Ultimate Campfire Confection (yes it was as rich and delicious as it looks)

Saying goodbye to Prairie Creek and the Redwoods wasn’t easy, but we had half a day’s trip up to our penultimate stop: urban Mecca of hipsterdom Portland. I had managed to find our accommodations a couple weeks at a budget hotel. Turns out if we fit four people into a two person room, we could book the “beer package” and still come out better than a crappy hostel in San Fran on Pride weekend. Beer package included two beer tasting trays and a growler full of beer of our choice, just about perfect for our beer-lovin' crew. As an added bonus, the hotel had once been a gay bath house and guests had free access to the still functional salt baths. Can't beat a deal like that! We spent the afternoon lost in Powell’s Book City, possibly the best place ever, and the evening sipping beer in a fancy pool. As far as cities go, Portland ain't half bad. We didn't have long to linger though – the next day found us at the end of our journey.

Yes there were only four of us...Yes we ate them all.

We had time for a quick stop at Voodoo Doughnuts Too on our way out of town (no quick stops to be had in the downtown location, line out the door seemingly 24/7) theeeeen Seattle! The Final Destination! We had a great weekend full of pizza, (more) beer, and Frisbee before everyone parted ways. All in all, a wonderful tour of the coast with a fun bunch of people. While it's hard to beat South Africa, I wouldn't be surprised to find myself back on the West Coast in the near future.

It's a GoPro on a stick!

What does it see?

It's a SHARK!

Quite a few sharks, actually. Big sharks, little sharks, so many sharks! Some have stripes! They all have teeth! Sharks!

Sharks on a tree farm? That’s kind of weird! I mean, Washington does have that ocean, right? So…I guess sharks could be a–NOPE. I’m just a terrible blogger! Mystery solved, crisis averted. I’m not on a tree farm anymore! I’m not even in the Northern Hemisphere!

In fact, I’ve left behind the WWOOF life (at least for now) and journeyed back to my field research country of choice: South Africa.  Last time I was living in Kruger National Park, South Africa’s largest wildlife park. We passed elephants on the road as we headed to work, and chased warthogs off the soccer field after work. This time I live by a beach and chase sharks. We pass whales on the way sometimes. Not a bad way to be. Almost makes up for the over 24 hours of travel it takes to get here…almost.

Naw it totally makes up for it, this is flippin amazing.

You might be wondering why I have returned to the sciencing. How does this fit in with my sustainability kick? Well…I am young, and my hippy interests are still varied. I do want to continue learning about permaculture and sustainable food growth practices, but the biologist in me still has a keen interest in conservation research. Specifically, now that I am free of the Iowa cornfields, I’d like to take the opportunity to see what ocean research has to offer. Heck, the program I’m currently on is even called Oceans Research.

Some Backstory!

When I was a kid, I, like many kids before me, wanted to be a marine biologist. Somewhere along the line, I became convinced that that wasn’t a practical line of work. So I put that interest to the side for a while. It wasn’t hard – I’ve always lived in land-locked areas and would have had to go pretty far out of my way to make marine biology happen. I thought getting a liberal arts biology degree would be a good compromise. Then, last year in South Africa, I was given the chance to do a tide pool research project. And it reminded me how much I freaking loved the ocean. The sounds, the smell, the creatures, all of it. The idea of a marine biology graduate degree entered my mind.

It might have faded to memory, however, if I hadn’t come upon a flyer last summer while touring the Maharishi University of Management, a transcendental mediation school in Fairfield, Iowa. We were touring their science building when a picture of a giant shark on a flyer caught my eye.

One year, a few emails, and an application later, here I am. Back in South Africa, not far from the very site that reminded me how much I loved marine biology in the first place. How's that for serendipity?

And my first week on the program has been AWESOME. While it has really only been a half-week (we had introductory lectures on Tuesday and didn’t start field work until Wednesday) I’ve already been out on two chum trips.

What’s a chum trip? Well, we head out on a little boat with a bucket of fish heads.  We anchor at the designated spot, and pour some water over the fish heads, so as to make a fish head soup-type deal. Mmmmm delicious. We then take a big tuna head, spear it through the eyes, and attach it to a rope, which is then tossed into the water. Sharks smell the delicious soup and see the delicious head. Shark fishin! Except the trick is, we’re not supposed to actually catch the shark, because then the shark eats the bait. One can only keep so many tuna heads lying about. We simply want to get the Great White as close to the boat as possible. For photo I.D. purposes, because remember kids, Science!

Science that looks something like this.

NOM am shark!

Why hullo there just passin' through!

It's a RooOOOAAADDD TRIIIIIIPPP!!! (part one)

So, the road trip in question actually went down about a month ago (it’s how I got here, to live amongst the trees!) but I didn’t write about it a month ago.  I wrote about it now! Better late than never?  Better late that never!

First Rule of Road Trip:  Upon leaving, shout, “WOOOOOO ROAD TRIIIIIIP!!!!!!” (Kind of like an inverse “First Rule of Fight Club”) 

Wa-hOOO Road Triiiiip!

Second Rule of Road Trip: As road trip progresses, shout, “WOOO ROAD TRIIIIIIP!!!” intermittently until phrase loses all meaning and enthusiasm, becoming a hollow shell of what it once was.  At this point, you have made it to your destination! 

woo...ro...road trip...

Just kidding!  Road trips are awesome from start to finish.

Just kidding – sometimes you get stuck in traffic or your tent blows down or you REALLY have to pee but feel bad stopping the car because you were the one who said you had to pee the LAST time and NO ONE wants to be “that guy”.

But actually, road trips are 90% awesome. 9/10 – would recommend.

California Road Trip was actually my SECOND road trip of the summer, if you’ll believe it, and in a couple days I shall head out on my third! First road trip was Minnesota to Arizona, second was San Diego to Seattle, and third will be Seattle to Minnesota.  Wondering what that looks like? So was I!

To the Google Maps!

Basically a giant triangle-ish lookin’ loop around the American West.  Cool.  Today we’ll be focusing in on that lovely West Coast-Best Coast bit.  And away we goooooooo….

To kick off our journey, my friend, her brother, and I drove inland, cutting east of LA to visit beautiful Joshua Tree National Park.  Geographically beautiful, anyway.  As we turned into the campsite, we noticed that almost every spot was empty, except for a lone pickup truck claiming space down the hill.  This brought us to our first decision of the trip (many more were to come, making it clear that three “go with the flow” types are possibly not the best at choosing a flow to go with).

In a rare move for the group though, Sam had a definitive plan.  “We should pick that open one at the top of the hill, it looks like the best place to throw a Frisbee!”  So, of all possible empty spaces to set up a tent, we chose the flattest, highest, and most exposed.  About halfway through setting up camp, we realized one of the (what we soon discovered to be) many reasons that Joshua Tree peak offseason is in July.  Our tent, bless its heart, was doing what it could to retain a semblance of Tentness, but every ten seconds or so a gust of wind containing the fury of a thousand desert gods would come bowl it over.  The tent–pancake-tent ballet played out for some time as we decided whether it was worth taking everything down and moving to a better site (which in this case would have been literally any of them).  In the end, however, we decided that surrounding and filling the tent with large boulders was the way to go.  

Poor tent

Ingenious Boulder Plan in action

Epic Tarp Cape

After the War of the Winds, it occurred to us that we hadn’t eaten since breakfast. What to do?  We bee-lined to the nearest grocery store (not actually the best thing to do – kids, don’t go to the grocery store hungry).  It was somewhere between arrival and a cart full of s’mores ingredients, kabob skewers, s’more skewers, beer, assorted campfire food, hard cider, and an open box of s’more poptarts (we decided we wanted to compare s’mores poptarts to actual s’more and then decided there’s no time like the present!) that we realized the error of our ways.  We also realized that we were too hungry to care, probably somewhere between the first and second s’mores poptart.  More importantly, time was a’wastin.  We only had one afternoon in Joshua Tree and so far we had spent it fighting a tent and eating our way through Walmart. 

Not a second to lose, we dropped off the food, grabbed the six-pack of cider, and took off towards a promising-looking hike.  That is, we fully intended to take off towards a promising-looking hike.  Until we saw the sign. “Giant Boulders.”  My inability to pass up anything sounding even remotely climbable kicked in.  We decided to check it out.  A few hours later, I came down from the boulders to my friends chilling on a rock, drinking hard cider.  They had initially followed me up, then realized what happens when one puts a Rachel on an incline.  Namely, I just sorta auto-pilot up.   

Atop the Giant Boulders...accurate sign was accurate

Picture I took while waiting for friends to catch up...sort of a "Where's Waldo" situation

I also had a lot of time to take selfies attempting to convey how ludicrously windy it was

In any case, we came to terms with the fact that we would not be going on a five-mile hike through the desert in July (not much mourning occurred, turns out) and went back to camp for a campfire feast and beautiful sunset.  We celebrated the fact that our tent was somehow still standing and tent-shaped with more s’mores poptarts.  Man I love s'mores poptarts.

Yes, that's a cactus

Next big stop post-Joshua Tree was San Fransisco, which we unanimously found overpriced.  While this remains my most lasting impression of the city, there were some highlights worth mentioning.  Fist: the arcade museum – a place where the full history of things people are willing to put change in a slot to see is on display.  Some of the older ones included “The Song of the Prairie”, which displayed animatronic farting cowboys, and “The Opium Den”, which we decided against spending the dime on.  There were quite a few “test your strength” and fortune-telling options, as well as the more modern pinball and racing games.  Generally a fun time.

"If you are easily offended do not play this machine"

Man, look at all those enticing career opportunities for the ladies!

The other highlight was also unplanned (we had a bit of a theme going in that regard).  When we were looking around for places to stay and suggestions for what to do in the city, one contact mentioned that there would be a parade going on the day we left.  We were only in San Francisco for one day (Friday) and had planned to leave Saturday morning for a slow meander up the coast to our next destination, only a few hours away.  Intrigued by the parade idea, though, we decided to push back the loose departure time to around noon.  The parade began at 10:30am, we left after 2pm.  The parade was not over.  Mostly because San Francisco boasts one of the largest Pride parades on earth.  The hours spent standing on some scaffolding parade and (more often) people-watching made our stop-over in the city well worth the time.  Speedos, glitter, rainbow body paint, tutus, and fairy wings were common attire.  

Colorful mass of humanity

Just a guy in a rainbow tutu on a bus stop, NBD

Carissa was up on the scaffolding too, for a bit

Around 2pm, however, we knew we had to get going and begin the second part of our journey: Northern California and beyond!

It's The Same Ocean, New Farm

Guess who’s back?!

Hint: It’s me!

Back on a farm that is, and back to my trusty blog!  Yes, really.  I’m back for real!  I did all that promising stuff at the beginning, right?  Couldn’t bail on you now!  Wouldn’t be right!  Plus I’d lose all my credibility – no one would come back for “Rachel Tries to Blog: Again. …Part 4.”  But we ALL know third time’s the charm, right? So third blog attempt is what we’re stickin’ too – was a little baby hiatus, that’s all!  Right?

Heck yeah!

Woooo.  You pumped?  I’m pumped.

I’m also sitting in a tiny log cabin watching the sun set over the bay through some stately Douglas Fir trees. (Pictured below)

Little Baby Cabin – Cozy!

Every night it's like this! Every night!

Why am I sitting in a cabin?  What’s up with the pine trees?  What happened to the ducks?? Well, two days ago (after a week-long road trip including 30+ hours of driving) I arrived at Farm Number Two – a tree farm north of Seattle up here in the Pacific Northwest.  This area remains one of my favorite parts of the country, and while I’ve been enjoying my new digs, I can’t wait to take advantage of all the wonderful hiking and proximity to the San Juan Island.  There’s a whale museum there!  And orcas out in that ocean!  Gotta love orcas.

I also miiight have heard tell of some ice cream shops out in Friday Harbor…not saying that trumps the whales…just, ya know, doesn’t hurt is all.

I like it here so far.  The old man who owns this place (Chris) keeps the freezer stocked with ice cream and fridge stocked with pie.  My first day here I got to path-clear by hackin’ at things with a machete.  I have found machetes to be a little too much fun.  No injuries yet though!  Hooray for me!

Other activities in my first few days have included planting a garden, learning how to identify various coniferous trees, making a wooden swing seat, berry picking, and learning how to drive a tractor.  The power tools are pretty fun, and we have plenty of wooden boards lying around, so the other WWOOFer (Adam) and I might tackle bench-making, though neither of us have ever woodworked much before.  Learn by doing, I always say!

Pulling a log outta the woods with a good ole John Deere

Swing-in-Progress

Overall, so far so good.  Lo siento for the long break.  I do want to keep you guys updated, but the nomad life isn’t always conducive to quiet alone time for writing (or reliable internet connections).  But hey, that’s just part of the adventure.

It Is a Fuzzy Solution to a Slimy Problem

Snails are the bane of gardeners’ existence.  Sneaky slimy shellful things that eat your lovely veggies and fruit trees (the ugly ones too, probably – they’re pretty indiscriminant).  Invasive to this country, garden snails proliferate at impressive pace and nom anything in their wake. 

Thus, unsurprisingly, snails are an issue here at Fallbrook Permaculture.  While not reaching full-on THREAT status, they are, at the very least, a nuisance.  A nuisance known to seek shelter en masse during the hot hours of the day.  But where the devil do they go?

Well, last week while mulching citrus trees, we got our answer.  It would appear that they take to the trees.  In that they hide snails-on-snails-on-snails style within the grooves of shaded tree trunks.  Tricksy tricksy.  

Snail Trail!

Thus, on a bright San Diego afternoon, we found ourselves – scattered mulch shovels abandoned, forgotten wheel barrow askew – Snail Hunting.  The incriminating evidence had been discovered, the gauntlet of trees along the driveway found out: all guilty of Snail Hoarding in the First Degree. 

Aha! Gotcha!

Our gastropod apprehension procedure was swift and merciless – each individual was armed with a ziplock bag and set loose with single-minded purpose: all snails found faced the plastic prison, no exceptions.

“But they are kinda cu-“

“NO! They are PLANT KILLERS”

“I mean look at those silly little faces tho-”  

“IN THE BAG”

“Sigh Okay”

To the Dump with Ye!

That evening over dinner, we discussed the snail problem (What you don’t talk about snails over dinner? That’s…kinda weird), and learned a new Permaculture Saying.  “If you have too many snails, that means you don’t have enough ducks.”  Of course all us WWOOFers were very pro-ducks, but the owners of the homestead remained hesitant.  They certainly wanted ducks eventually, but was now the right time?  Baby ducks could be a lot of work.  Did they really want to add new animals to the property?  Etcetera.  The WWOOFer counter-argument, "But...ducks!  Ducks are so cool!" for some reason did not seem to sway them. 

The subject of ducks was dropped after that, apart from hypothetical musings: “If we were to get ducks what kind would we get? What color should they be?”

Then it happened.

Two days ago, Mike and Sonya came home and I emerged from my room to see a large box on the dining room table.  A box with holes.  My fellow coworker stood over it, peering at its contents.  WHAT’S IN THE BOX.

This.

Was in.

The box.

We have been told that they grow quite rapidly, and I'll be sure to keep y'all posted on their progress.  The yellow and black ones are Swedish Blue Ducks (despite the name, they will grow up to be black and white) and the yellow is your standard white duck.  His/her (haven't sexed them yet) name is Odd.  Odd Duck.  The one Odd is hugging above is named June.  We keep them in a little duckling house in the living room, which I imagine they will outgrow soon enough.  Should be snappin' up snails in no time.  For now, though, I am enjoying writing this post with a Standard Poodle on my lap and squeaking ducklings beside me.  Life is indeed good here on the farm.

Until next time!

~Rachel