Utopian Quest

This autumn was exceptionally challenging and rewarding.  Back in the tumbling cycle of graduate school, swimming in a pool of research about contrastive rhetoric commanded that I completely learn a new stroke to stay afloat.  Old strokes came in handy though with a trip to Pictured Rocks National Lake Shore (see below).  Many characters from previous plays fell into this stew.  In the new dish came together with orGAINic LOVEly INgredients of OTHERSome interest.  The Lampost seemed to be the new kitchen, and the Sunday Night Potluck the community.  From this new foundry, a Community Garden was forged with much potential.

With a breakaway of warmth upon us, Krystal and I did a spur of the moment bike tour of the Amana colonies.  Lost to the trap and lure of tourism, we found the Amana we were looking for hidden in an old oak, on the skirts of Middle Amana (Below).  As a break to the peaceful country symphony, we contemplated poems by Emily Dickenson, and wrote a few of our own too.

After dropping the dumplings off at the bird house, we took Mokulele to Kauai where Adam and I met two of his friends, Margie (the blonde), and Katie.  They knew a guy on the island who picked us up, refueled our vagabond stomachs, and slingshot us into the Kalalau trail along the Na Pali coast.  This trail is for no confessing sinners, you gotta pack your elephant gun to survive the 13 mile hike to Kalalau valley.  Since we had a late start, the first night was spent in the wet coffee grove of Hanakoa.  This place was so humid we couldn’t get a fire going with fuel as kindling.  I made a little shelter out of sticks and ferns and in the middle of my sleep it decided it wanted to snuggle, I awoke thinking a wild boar was upon me and yelled at the top of my lungs.  Kalalau, like Waimanu, is a place where mother nature is doing a good job of letting man in the door.  These lush valleys used to be home for some 5,000 Hawai’ians, and there terraces serve the new community of some 150 hippies, living off the land.  We ran into a caveman in his garden, planting taro naked as the day his mother shot him out.  He had a sun died beard that, like his hair, had been worked into a nappy blob over the years.  He looked at us and smiled and went about his business.

After our exploration of the noni cliffs, and unworldly waterfalls.  We flew to Maui, where Margie and Katie lived.  This taste of civilization gave us the burning desire to run back into the moss of the wild.  The surf competition off of front street kept us entertained until a vortex by the name of, well I don’t quite remember her name, but she took us in her camper-truck to a beach party, that was about 5 people strong.  A fairly un-normal night ensued, and the next morning at 4 am the last palate burnt out and it was time for us to take our island flea back to the Big I.  Our pilot weighing in at 350 easy was sweating heavily as he loaded us and two others’ luggage into the small Cessna.  Shortly after takeoff there was a buzzer that I was sure was his heart monitor, warning of Cardio-infarction, it instead was a warning of a ajar door, right behind me the door then flew open.  We had an interesting jump, and after radical Rob brought our luggage, it was off our separate ways.

46 days on the Big island put me back with my Aquarius cusp.  This summer ripened my tropical Hawai’ian family ties.  Analou, a keeper of Hawai’ian culture, shared with us the true shared breath of Aloha, and chants granting us a safe and prosperous time in Hawai’i.  Alberta and Jason have given us our own little campground, a slice of the simple life where we may live off the land, eating papaya, mango, and of course Boot Boot, and fishing the waters of Waipio.  Waimanu (below) is always a welcome recharge, a sanctuary that civilization can never penetrate.  Of course, our trip would not be complete without cameo appearances from the sit-com-big-island: Derrick “Steve Erwin’s lost twin,” Betsy, Dave and Anna from the van, Abe, Smokey, Paul, Radical Rob, Tanya, Ralph, Alex, and the Maile, Jim and Artesia, and the crazy bike lady, and of course 25 amazing teens and two amazing women counterparts.  Thank you Kiki and Lizz.

For the past two weeks I have been in Colorado.  In Frisco the first week, my dad and I went climbing, biking, hiking, and rented a canoe and a jeep for a day.  It was a blast and what made it even more exciting was that there was a BBQ festival on main in Frisco for three days.  Last week some old friends from college and I did a lot of climbing.  Sunday at The Monastery outside of Estes Park.  It has difficult, exposed, and fun sport climbs.  Monday, Dusty and I met these two older guys (40’s) at Vedawoo in Wyoming.  We climbed 4 diverse climbs on rock that rivals the Needles and Joshua Tree.  Tuesday morning another friend from school, Joe, met Kristy and I and we bouldered at Horsetooth Resavoir.  And finally Thursday came.  We awoke at 2 am, were at the trailhead in Rocky Mountain National Park at 4am, at the base of the Petit Grepon at 7am and then 8+ hours of exposed alpine climbing and rappelling ensued.  About halfway up, we heard thunder, and blinded to the weather coming from the west, panic set in and we silently performed our tasks at hand.  The summit is only about 3 feet by 20,we gladly found it at 1:15, 12,000 ft. some long scary rapps on the ice floss and were back at the car by 6pm.  Thank you Ed’s Cantina for the most rewarding Nachos we had ever ground. Click the summit photo for more photos, below is a photo of the delicate climb as seen from the Gash:  (Courtesy of Bryan Bornholdt), the climbers are setting the abseil, and us at the third rapp station(Below right).