Dusk to Dawn

One wonders what pattern of living you might enjoy if completely free to choose.  We have learned to savor dusk and dawn.  We plan trips, outings, and places to stay around opportunities to enjoy twilight times.  Both dusk and dawn are magical transition times in which one world quiets down while the other awakens.   And as you will see below, all species, including our own, are influenced by these special moments of change as the earth fades from or faces the sun each day.

The best example of such transitions might just come from a tiny mining town, Pine Creek, Australia.  Pine Creek has a few hundred people but thousands of birds and bats.  At dusk, for reasons no one really understands, thousands of birds from dozens of species pour into a few trees in a small park.  The glint of the old dying light shines off the crimson bellies of rainbow lorikeets and transforms the metallic aquamarine color of rainbow honeyeaters to an ocean blue in the last rays of sunlight.  The bird chorus rises to deafening proportions as they cry out their final songs into the night and ghostly bats fill the blood orange colored horizon flying in from daytime roosts.  At dawn, the bats ease away and the birds begin their raucous calls an hour before the first glint of sun fills the morning sky.

It is in places like Pine Creek that we have found a passion that causes us to walk into the forest in the dusk, lights turned off unless necessary.  We have held still for the better part of a night listening for the crackling footsteps of one of the kiwi species to emerge on a moonlit trail in New Zealand.  At dawn on a beach in Australia, we searched for and followed tiny flipper prints of hatchling sea turtles emerging at midnight from a nest and racing toward the sea.  In Costa Rica we walked behind a guide and found three- and two-toed sloths moving slowly through the trees.  We observed vipers poised to strike, waiting for the heat signature of a smaller mammalian prey.  In Australia we snuck out onto a canopy bridge and trail walk and found, to our night adjusted eyes' delight, a glen of Gloworms.  Gloworms are fungal larvae that spin single strand webs dangling their attractive nighttime offer of light to unsuspecting moth prey.  The musky smell of decaying Eucalyptus will be imprinted in our memories along with the sight of their blue green lights glowing softly like a tiny field of stars in the forest.

And it is not only the other animal species that attract our attention from dusk to dawn.  Human patterns of vibrant life differ across the world as well.  In Argentina, we cruise the street at 5 am in a taxi heading for the airport to watch the first customers begin to emerge from clubs and tango joints.  We found out, much to our dismay, that even 9 pm was too early for dinner in many places including a restaurant we loved in Buenos Aires.  Yet in New Zealand, hostels close their doors by 6 or 7 pm and in Australia, even on a Saturday night, the miners in Pine Creek call 10 pm a late night.

We have purchased a strong light to aid us in our nighttime hunts for koalas, spiders, honey gliders and wallabies.  We have spent many early predawn mornings slipping out of hostels or campgrounds quietly and heading somewhere in the dark to watch one world lie down and another awaken, reborn again. As we prepare for Indonesia and Malaysia, we wonder what will emerge in those distant locales at dusk and dawn.

Images are of a sign near Nimbin, Australia; Sally communing with a wallaby in Katherine Gorge National Park, Australia; and of our first Costa Rica nighttime tour guide at Pasion tours, Marcus, who was training a your apprentice on the arts of insect ID.

Posted in Darwin, Australia

Who are you and what have you done with my partner?

We wanted to share a bit about the origin of our most common, almost daily saying.  "Who are you and what have you done with my partner?"

Who are you....

As I reflect on the past nine months, I realize that Jess has changed.  Actually, we have both amazed each other at times with our ability to adapt to whatever the current situation demands.  Jess, however, has slowly migrated from what her family labeled as "messy Jessie" to "neat complete."  This has led me to ask myself (sometimes with great humor) "Who ARE you and WHAT have you done with my partner?"

In our home life, Jess cooked and I cleaned.  That was due mostly to the fact that I neither liked to cook nor wanted to learn, and Jess loved working in the kitchen, creating wonderful and tasty delights.  As we have traveled together, the same has been true, but because of limited spaces and unique circumstances, we have both found it necessary to assist each other in ways that are not familiar to either of us.  Jess's abilities to put things back where they belong, put lids onto bottles tightly, and keep her gear organized have become phenomenal.  Her prompting me to consider doing laundry when a clean change of clothes still exists has been beyond my comprehension.

Our travels together have only solidified my admiration for this person who means so much to me.  Jess has always been an amazing person, with a calm, confident inner strength that most of us can only dream about.  Her ability to handle multifaceted, difficult, sometimes unpleasant, tasks is mind boggling, as is her incredible ability to work with all types of people.  My role in her life has been one of consistency and stability.....a shoulder to cry on when necessary.  Now, as we share the challenges and rewards of our travels, she has adapted to the necessary, immediate consistency of time and place.  As I watch her rinse out coffee and tea mugs before she puts them away in the car, I smile because there will not be coffee stains on the carpet of the rental car, and the cups will be easily found in the morning as we make our travel beverages.

As I smile at the above descriptions, I reflect on how lucky I am to have found such an incredible person.  Her ability to adapt to my peculiar tendencies has been one of the main stays of our relationship, especially during our travels.  As we travel the world, I sincerely hope I can continuously ask "Who ARE you and WHAT have you done with my partner?" as we both learn, grow, and adapt together.



... and what have you done with my partner?

After more than 20 years of living with another, you come to believe that you know them intimately, thoroughly, and can predict their actions and reactions.  Such are the survival skills of partnership.  So you can imagine our surprise as we began a trip together in a space smaller than our closet and our most common phrase quickly became "Who are you and what have you done with Sally (or Jess)?

We surprised each other.  To best explain how Sally surprised me, one has to understand that for most of her life, she has survived and excelled through consistency.  Such a skill can also lead one to be a bit resistant to change, be a little risk averse, and be conservative.  Somehow, after over 60 years of practicing those traits, she has set them aside.  Sally embraced the idea and action of change as we sold or gave away all that was familiar and hit the road. She is always ready each day for a new place or setting, trying a new food or drink, using wifi, playing words with friends, and showing patience with me, even when I move all of her stuff around and forget to tell her where I put any of it.  She is quick to shrug off the small stuff and thoughtful in facing the big stuff.  And she takes risks.  She takes them emotionally, physically, mentally, and financially as we venture forward.  Life is not always easy as memory fails and hard won physical strength fades with age and such can frustrate.  Yet what really stands out is not what is lost, but what my partner gains each day as she faces a night in a new hostel, a steep and uncertain road, or an urban adventure with the keen curiosity of a child again.

I know that people wondered how we might get along given the tight quarters and intense nature of international travel together. Sure, we occasionally need to talk things through and explain what we need if tensions arise, but most days, in fact every day, I am delighted and honored to travel with someone who understands that to live is to grow.

Posted from Nimbin, NSW, Australia

Karen's Socks

Oh the places they have been... and the things they have seen.  Karen's socks have been on quite a journey since they found their way into new backpacks in Arequipa, Peru.  Karen, a new lifelong friend, heard about Sally's plight of wool allergies and her lack of success in finding quality replacement hiking socks in Peru.  Selflessly, Karen rounded up her Thorlos and set Sally off with a warm heart and warmer feet.  Karen's socks kept Sally's feet comfortable in the unexpected snowstorm on the way to Lake Titicaca.  A few weeks later, as we crept into simple plank beds at almost 16,000 feet near the lagoons and volcanoes of the Uyuni Salt Flats of Bolivia, the socks gave their best through the cold night.  Sliding through muck and mud in the cloud forests the next week and walking the high streets of La Paz were no challenge for these faithful new friends.

The socks really stood up under the test of varying conditions in Patagonia, hanging out in kayaks, hiking glacier trails, and experiencing relatively few sock showers (we call them laundromats) for days or weeks at a time.  Stiffly, they went on toward northern Chile, sometimes hiding in a dark corner of the pack, but more often hanging out of Chacos as we watched folkloric dances and slid into each new dawn in kayaks, busses, or ferries.

The grey and black socks looked almost new after a week of rest in LA, some simple laundry soap, and time to rest.  Forgotten in the pack while their people walked barefoot on the sandy beaches of Rarotonga, Karen's socks waited patiently for their time to tread New Zealand.  Patience is rewarded and the socks dominated the New Zealand days, their stout lengths and tight weave often the only barrier between Jess and Sally and vicious sand flies.   They climbed fearlessly up lava peaks, glaciers, and forest trails saving their quiet, more reflective moments for sitting in kayaks or by baby seals in streams.  They snuck through the night in a dance that can best be described as a combination of blind mans bluff, hide-and-seek, and snipe hunting as they searched for the elusive nocturnal kiwi bird.  And occasionally, they gave way to much less favored pairs to wait their turn at the trail again.

As we travel, we take parts of our friends with us.  Some are physical reminders such as the inches gained from the thoughtful send off treats from Alina, Anthony, Linda, Bill and Dale.  Others are practical such as the emergency bracelet from Sara, Becca and Toni or Karen's socks.  Most of the time, our friends' and families' presence is less tangible but just as real as we think of the time spent with them, see things we know they would love, or hear the things they have taught us about ourselves or the world as we walk new paths each day.

Images are of Karen's socks on the Routeburn track in Milford Sound, New Zealand, under pant legs near Mt Aoraki/Cook and just out of sight of the camera at dusk looking out over the Tasman Sea.  For more about the woman who would give you the socks off her feet read, "Karen's Adventures: My life is a fairy tale" at www.salientmoments.blogspot.com.  Posted at Jarrel's sister's house in Christchurch, New Zealand

One ring to rule them all

"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future" - Galadriel


OK, we admit it.  We are big fans of "Lord of the Rings" and "The Hobbit," and New Zealand is just the place to immerse ourselves in our love of these movies/books.  For much of the past decade, we gathered as a family with Jack each Christmas season to watch Aragon and Frodo realize their destinies. What we have found to be amazing, though, is the effect that not only these movies, but the legacy of their director, Peter Jackson, have had on this small country. 

Tourism is a vital part of the New Zealand economy.  Of course there are other industries such as agriculture, forestry, and fisheries and all of these in total make for a diverse and usually stable country.  During the last thirteen years, however, tourism has had a significant shot in the arm due, in large part, to the efforts of Sir Peter Jackson.  His trilogy, "Lord of Rings" became so popular that many of the movie locations are advertised and marketed as tourist attractions.  There are tour companies that exist only to provide tours of these sites for the visiting public.  Visitor information centers added personnel to handle the additional visitor traffic seeking anything they could visit concerning the trilogy, and we talked to employees who "had a job because of the trilogy."  Books have been published that detail (with GPS coordinates) site locations of the film and these books can be found in all bookstores and visitor centers across New Zealand.  Things are not slowing down for the movie buffs, as "The Hobbit" locations are now becoming just as popular.

Jackson, along with two other founders, has also located his Weta special effects business in his hometown of Wellington, on the North Island.  This studio/workshop/museum/office is an amazing wonderland that, until recently, was not accessible to the public due to patent concerns.  However, a portion of it is now open for guided tours, and topics such as false faces, armor and swords, stunt doubles, camera tricks, costumes, creation of/aging process of props, etc. are presented, explained and demonstrated----fascinating stuff for those of us who geek out over special effects and the wizards who create them.  Visitors come in droves to this small, inconspicuous building, and spend their vacation money touring this facility as well as for food and lodging in this quaint, bustling little community.

Probably the most surprising aspect of Jackson's influence came to us as a "must see" encouragement from other travelers and locals we met in New Zealand.  We were told more than once as we decided to meander through the wine country in the northern part of the South Island, that the vineyards and wine tasting were good, but the vintage avian heritage center in the same area was fabulous.  "World class" is the term brochures used to describe this museum that Peter Jackson has helped develop, but often we do not agree with the brochures, or with the people we talk to after we have actually visited a site.  However, we decided to see if Jackson's fingerprint could be identified here.  "Surprised" is not nearly a good enough word to explain our experience in this museum as we entered a dark and magical journey in the skies over Europe a century ago.  Jackson, who apparently is a World War I aviation buff, and his Weta studio, put together a fascinating journey beginning with early aviation through World War I with life size planes and figures in dioramas that are as detailed as real life.  There are biographies of many of the pilots, from Eddie Rickenbacker to Baron von Richtoffen. We were mesmerized and amazed as we stepped back in time and lived some of the moments depicted in the dioramas.  It was a stunning and unforgettable experience. The greater unforgettable experience will be a growing understanding of how one person supported by a team of creative geniuses with vision and passion can change the world.  

Images are of Frodo's famous hairy feet at Weta Cave, one of dozens of displays at the Avian Heritage Center in Blenhein, and the "Beacons of Gondor" film setting at the Franz Joseph Glacier.

Posted in Moeraki, New Zealand

Invaders

A walk through the California Redwoods puts everything in perspective, gazing at giants that began life as tiny seeds searching for light in a dense forest.  The smell of natural decay in this forest is one of life, rather than death, as the eternal cycle of life continues as it has for eons.  What's wrong with this picture is that we were not in Northern California, rather a few kilometers outside of Rotorua, New Zealand.

One of the strongest patterns we are seeing in our eight months of travel is the stark, all encompassing influence of Homo sapiens.  Humans have, through time, "introduced" to native landscapes many of their favorite aspects of home.  Most times, the introductions have been deliberate attempts to convert a native landscape into something more profitable or familiar; however, many of the introductions of exotics have been accidental.  Whether deliberate or accidental, these introduced species are the single most significant factor to date behind the global extinction and endangerment of native species whether they be one third of all of the extant plant species in Chile, common myna birds on the Cook Islands, or possums in New Zealand.  The local ecosystems and endemic species simply have no tools to resist the onslaught.  For example, myriad flightless birds evolved in the island country of New Zealand in the complete absence of mammalian predators.  Today, rats, cats and possums dominate the landscape necessitating identified zones of poison where air raids rain toxic pellets on the land and bounties are offered on possums to give local species a chance to recover.

While the transformation of the natural world is alarming, we have contemplated the level of cultural contamination as well.  Every country we have been to has a similar story of losing some part of its identity, often with a fight over resources or religion at its center.  Invaders bring disease, war, forced conversion, and extinction to people and cultures that had evolved across millenniums on the land.  Today, that cultural invasion appears to be one of mega corporations, fast food, and pop culture as we find our Monsanto, McDonald's, and music in every region and zone we have traveled.

What is gained from such efforts can be a common appreciation, sense of familiarity, and basic comfort with the known and homogeneous world.  What is lost are the evolutionary branches of organism and cultural diversity that we celebrate in our nature programs and festivals even as they dissolve and disappear. At the beginning, invaders are generally welcomed.  It is often not until all that was special about a place disappears that the invaders are recognized for what they were.

Images are of a poisoned possum, bounty sign on a New Zealand window, and a ubiquitous McDonalds advertisement in South America.  Posted from Franz Joseph Glacier, South Island, New Zealand

It's so easy

People talk about how they feel after traveling abroad for awhile so we were curious as to how we would feel during our few days in LA prior to renewing our travels in New Zealand, Australia, Indonesia and Malaysia.  We have been back only two days but have one dominating thought:  It's so easy.

While traveling for the last few months in South America, we had incredible experiences with people, nature, and domestic animals.  Each day was an adventure and the vast majority were rewarding, stimulating, educational, and some, even mind-boggling.  However, each day was also a struggle.  Every day required us to figure out the basic necessities of our lives.  Where would we sleep, how could we move from point A to point B, how would we get drinkable water, what could we safely eat, and how could we find public toilets?  Those basics of life were being executed in second and third world nations in a language that was foreign to us and in societies that were novel.   Some days were more complicated as we sought medical assistance or tried to communicate with financial institutions in the United States.  Getting money was much harder after we were robbed of the easiest tools for accessing our resources.  Transportation was challenging and often fraught with greater risks.

In LA, we slipped into a rental car (prearranged by bidding on Priceline) at a daily rate one-fifth of what we paid the two times we rented in Chile.  While our phone was shut off, it still provided GPS map service given the coverage in Southern California.  We were able to see a podiatrist in the morning and get a same day dental appointment in the afternoon while driving safely through, for the most part, paved, well-marked streets.  Our beloved Tito's Tacos provided some of the safest, quickest, and most delicious food we had eaten this month, and Trader Joe's supplied our healthy dinner.  Our best friend Lisa's house and our cousin Michele's home were warm, secure, and welcoming with a refrigerator full of good food.  There was excellent coffee for breakfast rather than the freeze dried Nescafe beloved by people to the south.  And everywhere we went, there were toilets with toilet paper provided (a rarity in South America) and the ability to flush it into a system terminating in a wastewater treatment plant rather than turning a local river a frothy, chocolate brown.  As we stopped briefly at a CVS pharmacy, the array of choices for our needs was truly staggering as well as was the quality and, overall, lower prices. 

It's easy here and we did not understand the difference until we sold everything, put on packs, and chose a distant land for our destination.  We cannot say the experience has made us more grateful as each day of our lives we recognized we were two of the luckiest people to have ever walked the planet.  Perhaps it just makes us more certain of the truth behind that statement.

We are curious as to how we will feel in both New Zealand and Australia and suspect it will feel much the same as being in the United States given a common language and first-world infrastructure.  Indonesia, Malaysia and Southeast Asia lay before us as well, and we know that those cultures have much to teach us about ourselves and others.  It is almost time to put on the freshly washed clothes and packs and begin again.....

Posted in Irvine, CA.  Pictures are of our cousin Michelle and Sally at In-N-Out Burger and Sally getting a much needed haircut!

Kids Again

As we head out of Latin America, we decided to finish this part of our "hundred stories" with two of our favorite events.  Both were unexpected in the power they had to tap into our deepest childhood memories.


Outer space


My dream as I was growing up was to become an astronomer.  At the age of seven, I was totally captivated when Sputnik was launched.  Space captured my imagination, and I spent many hours gazing skyward, identifying constellations and looking for planets.  As the space race began, I became especially interested in the Gemini and Apollo projects and kept a thick scrapbook of newspaper clippings concerning each mission.

As happens many times in life, as I grew older, I followed many different paths and left my dreams of astronomy behind.  Though still perking my interest when major stories concerning the skies, heavenly bodies, and space craft were broadcast, I no longer pursued my dream with the energy I had displayed in my earlier years.  


Dreams have a way of being realized sometimes in the future.  Last night I had the opportunity to realize a part of my dreams in a major way when I was able to stand, awestruck, in the middle of a giant observatory and watch as it "woke up" to the night sky.  My guide in this miraculous opportunity was a young astronomer who is just now beginning his lifetime journey investigating the vast universe through the lens of the incredible scope housed in this structure.  

As I stood in silent wonder, the walls of the observatory began to rotate, giving me a sense of vertigo.  The walls opened and as I looked up to the top of the dome, it, too began to slowly expose the scope to the sky as the center piece receded back onto itself.  The huge blue supporting arms reached high and, as the surreal experience continued, the entire structure began to tip toward me, slowly revealing the majestic mirror, looking like a sea of quivering, silver mercury encased in a huge blue dish.  As the blackness of night closed in around the observatory, we adjourned to the grounds outside the awesome structure, pausing to watch as more and more stars took their age old places in the heavens.  Then, within a predesigned plan, a laser beam shot an eerie,  straight orange line from the scope far, far into space.  Against the blackness of the night time sky, it was an incredible sight.
As we left the observatory late that night, I was humbled and filed with wonder as I again was a child of seven gazing into the vastness of the heavens.....  

Inner Planet


"I had thought they would be gone" was the answer to why I was crying.  I couldn't figure it out.  The Chilean captain had announced that blue whales were off the port side of the ferry and as I rushed out to see them, I caught my first glimpse of the biggest mammal that has ever existed on the planet.  As I watched the four individuals dive and move around the ship, I started to cry.  

Deep emotion is often connected to deep, long un-accessed memory.  As I searched for the root of my tears, I remembered an eight-year-old Jess doing her "show and tell" presentation on "endangered species," a new concept after the 1973 act signed by Nixon became law.  I had chosen "Blue Whales" and pasted pictures of them and sea life into a shoebox diorama.  My report to my third grade class was about how we had overhunted them to probable extinction and less than 1% of the intelligent giant denizens of the deepest ocean were left.....yet the hunting continued.

At the tender age of eight, I mourned their loss from my planet.  I thought they were gone.  Yet, there they were before me on a cold day near the coast of Chiloe Island.  A few thousand exist, persisting and surviving.  Seeing them wild and free made me cry tears of deep joy and gave me hope for other species, including our own.

Posted from Santiago, Chile