Life in the 415

Life at Palo is good. Being here two weeks I’ve already learned a lot… and have much more to learn. Actually banding the birds that we catch in the mist nets is really only one small facet of what are a bander’s duties. Every half hour we walk our net trails to check for captured birds. If/ when we find one we have to carefully extract it from the net, wing by wing, and coax the especially grabby ones to let go with their feet. We place the captured birds in a small cloth bag, and walk back to our banding station for the day. (They’re actually calmer, and safer, in the bag than if we were to walk around with them exposed.) If they’re already banded we record who we’ve caught, and if not we give them a nice lightweight aluminum bracelet to wear with their own 9 digit code. After that we try to determine the bird’s age and sex, look at feather condition, amount of fat, and weight among other measurements. Some birds we color band. Then we release the bird. If it’s a small bird, just releasing it from the bander’s grip over your palm, close to the ground is fine. If it’s a raptor… throw it into the wind. (Keep those talons as far away from you as possible.) Most of the birds we catch are small, like this Yellow Rumped Warbler.



But sometimes we catch larger birds. Like this juvenile Red Shouldered Hawk.



I have not “processed” a raptor yet, but I have released a Sharp Shinned Hawk. (Who was smaller than even the juvenile Red Shouldered.)

I’ve been hoping for a Western Scrub Jay in the nets, but so far they have eluded us. There is no shortage of them around the Palomarin field station. Lately the only time you see one is with an acorn in its mouth. Perched high on the top of the nearest tree, surveying the area for other jays, and either yelling at/ to them, or flying, beak full, with the characteristic flap like mad, tuck your wings, flap like mad, Jay flight pattern. Nora, one of my banding intern buddies, has been hoping to catch a Black Phoebe. Especially since at least one appears wherever she goes. (And I mean everywhere.)

Another duty of the bander is mending mist nets. Yesterday Nora and I attempted to mend nets in the backyard while Colin, another winter bander, worked with Renee banding. Just figuring out the diagram of how to tie the correct knot was hard enough. Doing it was another story. A good chunk of the time we’d end up tying slip knots by accident. Re-do. Then it got windy. And it was impossible to work out where the little square of net that you were attempting to knot into had just disappeared to. At that point we broke for lunch, I rode my bike to Bolinas to drop off a movie at the library, and then we re-grouped for some proofing of data from the previous month. (Another duty)

Today we banded at one of our “off sites” and I extracted and processed my first few birds alone, which was exciting. I also had a Winter Wren stuck down my shirt for about 10 minutes. He/ she was getting a little shaky, so it was back in the bag, and zipped loosely in my jacket while I processed another bird. By the time I was done with the second bird the WIWR was kicking and biting again. Success!


Biking around Bolinas is very scenic. You alternate riding along cliffs overlooking the Pacific and through stands of eucalyptus trees. A sea breeze, or the smell of fresh bark mulch and vick’s vapo rub combined (which, call me strange, I find rather pleasant.) The only downside to the ride are the hills. This is near San Francisco after all. Going downhill is tons of fun. Going up again… not as much.

I have found a place to get some bouldering in only 10 miles from the field station. Right on the beach. I’ve never had to plan my climbing around tides before. There’s a nice little traverse that I’ve found, and a V1 that could be a project. It feels a little strange pulling on the rocks on the beach. The texture of the dried salt on them is a whole new element. They almost feel slippery.

Here's Nora on the traverse, hanging out.



and some of the other boulders in the area.



I also went surfing for the very first time on Thanksgiving day with some scientists from the station. I was lent a board and a wetsuit, given about a 5 minute primer on how to stand up, read a wave, and proper surf etiquette, then ran after my teacher, Nat, into the waves and paddled out here… (the little black specks are surfers)



Having seen it firsthand now, I can imagine surfing being a scary thing if you haven’t had a lot of swimming experience. There was only once when I panicked a little bit after riding face first off my board into the water. I got tossed around a little, smacked on the head by the board, and couldn’t pop up until another wave had passed, but once I relaxed it was fine. I didn’t stand up in the 2 hours I was out there, but by the end I was getting the idea of what waves were good, and how to get into a good position to paddle into them. I caught a few waves, and rode them on my stomach. One of them I rode long enough for Nat, riding next to me, to yell at me “Stand up! Stand up! All the way!” At which point I jumped, but hesitated at the last moment, and only made it to my knees before I pitched over sideways with a yelp. I was immediately swallowed up by the wave. I popped up grinning a little while later, and paddled back out for another try.

Palo

This is home for the next few months...





and work for the next few months...

We're not in Kansas anymore.

NH – I leave bright and early on the 5th, learn Obama is the new president elect while listening to the radio on the drive over to pick up Jan. We tetris-style pack my car, and head for the wilds of Vermont.

VT – Pretty hills and mountains, a few cows. (State line #1!)

NY- First stop for supplies… somewhere on some back country highway. Pay lots of tolls on 90. Very close to Niagra Falls, but no time to stop, we’ve still got a long way to go today. (State line #2!)

PA- don’t really remember that much… how long have we been driving now? (State line #3!)

OH- Yes! We’ve made it to the destination state. No! we’ve got to get all the way to Cincinnati. (State line #4!) I spend two nights hanging out with family, Jan visits a cousin in the city. Somehow I have become a cavalry horse in a game of keep away with a cousin. (Note: it’s much easier to run without a child on your back.) I depart at the break of dawn on the 7th, only become slightly lost getting Jan in the city, and we make haste to the Midwest. (First of many realizations on this trip that driving in/ around Boston pretty much prepares you for anything.)

IN- yeah… we crossed it, I just don’t remember. (State line #5!)

IL- similar to above. (Sorry to my readers from IL… State line #6!)

MO- Traffic going through St. Louis around lunch time. (State line #7!)



KA- Flat. Well, almost… you can see the crest of the next hill about 10 miles distant (straight ahead.) (State line #8!) We drive into the dark, finally pulling off somewhere in the middle of the state, spend a very windy night on a man made lake in Wilson State Park. First night on the trip in the tent. Fill up the gas tank the next morning at a station in the middle of nowhere with a clerk who is about the friendliest person we will encounter on the road… with about half of his teeth in his mouth.

CO- Yay! We’re making it to the west now. Oh wait. We’ve got hours of flatness before we hit the Rockies… how much longer? (State line #9!) This is it! The slugmobile chugs up the Rockies for the second time in 6 months on route 70 West. The little car that could. We top out at above 11,000 feet (driving through a tunnel). Pop out the other side and, IT’S SNOWING! Light flakes are falling all around. The spires of rock that hang above us are dusted. The summits of the mountains are hidden by the top of the windshield. We duck down low to peer up at the peaks which look like they’ve been dusted with confectionary sugar. We pass a ski resort which is open. People are skiing, making nice S’s down the nearest trail. I claw at the glass of the driver’s window and moan about not bringing skis. (Where they would have fit in the car, I don’t know.) We pass exits for Steamboat and envy Kirsten. We descend from the mountains, regain our composure, buy groceries in Grand Junction, find a place to crash, and drive into the night…

UT- It’s dark. And the desert landscape is very strange in the spare light from the stars. No wonder so many science fiction movies about outer space have been filmed in the Utah desert. This place really is alien. (State line #10!) We arrive in St. George around 11 pm. Crash on the couch of a friend. Awake on the morning of the 9th with grand plans to climb a fairly simple multi-pitch sport climb just outside town at the Prophesy Wall. It’s raining when we arrive. Re-group. Can’t climb on wet sandstone. (Unless you want to be hated by climbers forevermore for destroying holds.) Visit some old co-workers of Jan’s in town, head out. Red Rocks or bust!

NV- More desert. (State line #11!) But this time it’s a bit more familiar. (Not quite sagebrush though.)



We arrive in Vegas in the early afternoon. We avoid the strip. Go to the climbing shop instead. Get a few supplies, chat up the locals, claim a campsite, and head to the crag to get a climb in before dark. I lead a 5.8. (Highest rating outside leading yet.) Find out later it was a 5.8+. No wonder it felt a little sketchy there for a bit. Jan is glad I led. Cook dinner, crash. Wake up, we think late, but learn it’s only 7:30. Start of first full day in Nevada. Silly trad climbers getting up at the break of dawn to climb 10 pitches. Eat breakfast. We’re at the “Panty Wall” by 9:00, and climbing.




Phone climbing gym friend and gloat. Complete 7 climbs in the day. Led all except one 5.7, and a TR on a slabby 10b. Gawk at the rescue helicopter hovering and ambulances in the parking lot. Hope parents are not paying attention to NV news and that if it is indeed an injured climber they come out ok. Resolve to call parents as soon as dead cell is charged again. Finish out the day on a very bouldery 5.9. Drive the 13 mile “scenic loop” around Red Rocks Park in the dark. See the lights of Vegas from the wilds of the desert. (Very weird how the city just stops. No suburbs. Just blocks and blocks of people… then desert. I prefer the desert.) Cook artichoke and garlic chicken sausages on sticks over the camp fire. Crash. Wake up, again, we think late. Still only 7:30. Into the desert again. Get a random hiker to take our picture.



Head to “The Magic Bus” wall for a half day of climbing. Head into town to find internet and connect with civilization again. (A bit of a let down, really.) Last night in Red rocks. We wake up, bright and early, pack up the Slugmobile, and head for California. Pass such illustrious places of business as “The Shady Lady Ranch” and others with similarly suggestive titles.

CA- Last state crossing! (#12) This is it. We arrive in Bishop around lunch. Eat in a city park with very friendly (and gluttonous) ducks. Jan yells at them. Chat up the locals in a gear shop. Claim a tent site at “The Pit” and head to the Happy Boulders. Climb around a bit on a traverse on the Totty Boulder.



Hike out as the sun is setting over the Sierra Nevada. Spy a Black Diamond truck in the parking lot and guess what hidden goodies are on the inside. (Jan wants tele skis. I want lots and lots of climbing gear.) Night (who knows what at this point) in my tent. Wake up on the morning of the 12th, head to the Owens River Gorge for some sport climbing. Manage to not die hiking down the steep scree trail to the Warm Up Wall, and later, the Great Wall of China.



Highlights include me leading my first 5.9, and Such awesome routes as “China Doll.” (This is somebody else on China Doll, taken as we hiked in.)



Scrambled back up the “gully” to get out of the Central Gorge. Dinner in the parking lot of Wild Willy’s Hot Springs. Post climbing soak in our birthday suits under the light of the full moon reflecting off the snow covered peaks of the Sierra Nevada and White Mountains looming above us. Extract ourselves (reluctantly) from the warm water, head back to The Pit. Sleep soundly. Wake up the next morning and re-pack all our gear strategically to get Jan into the airport most efficiently.



Re-tetris the slugmobile. Begin the final drive. Make a brief stop to check out Mono Lake.



Extract ourselves from the “moon” mud, part the brine flies, and chug over the Sierra Nevada. The Devil Duck, Toejam, and Leroy rejoice.



One lane highways on windy roads with sheer cliffs enclosing you on either side are fun… I’m glad I have a manual. We drive through the Central Valley, through Sacramento, hit traffic (for the first time since St. Louis.) I break out the Boston area driver skills again that have been lying dormant for a few days. Arrive at the Oakland Airport just in time. Jan and I exchange our goodbyes… I drive out, back into the insane Bay Area Traffic. I’m not so sure I’m glad I have a manual anymore… but just briefly. I re-evaluate this when driving North on 1. I feel like I’m driving a rally car on the winding road. Up and down hills, around hairpin turns, all with an amazing view of the sun setting over the Pacific. Pass through Stinson Beach, arrive at Palo in the dark. Stumble into the kitchen of my new home for the next 5 months and meet my fellow interns. The road trip is over, the new adventure begins…

The next step (or marathon across the country)

My car is clean, my gear is mostly packed, and a plan is in place. Tomorrow I leave in the early AM, drive to Jan's to pick her up, and then we make a mad dash to Ohio. From there it's westward bound, headed for some climbing in the warmer southwest. Maybe we'll do some climbing in Colorado depending on the weather. But it looks like we'll be headed to Red Rocks at least. From there I will arrive on the Point Reyes National Seashore on the 14th of November, ready for the first day of my bird banding internship at PRBO's Palomarin Field Station. I'll be spending the winter on the Pacific, learning lots, and working hard. I'm looking forward to the experience, even though I will be extremely poor. Of course, you can always send me fun things here:

My name
PRBO
Palomarin Field Station
PO Box 1157
Bolinas CA, 94924

I've enjoyed my time back home. I'm going to miss climbing with the Vertical Dreams crew, and hanging out with friends who are still in the NH area. Kaija and Ben's wedding went off without any major mishaps... even though the ceremony was held on the ice in an arena, and the whole wedding party was on skates (in dresses and tuxes of course). No one fell. And we got their car good, even though they tried to hide it from us.

It's time to take the next step! And as always... where I'll be next, who knows...

A Live Free or Die state of mind

So, once again, when not in the field I have been slacking in the blog updating. This does not mean that I am not doing anything interesting… on the contrary, I have been extremely busy.

A few days after I got home I began working full time in the Hudson River lab at Normandeau, sorting samples again. Registered for and took the GREs (I think I did decent), and began some preliminary grad school scouting. I also got myself a membership at Vertical Dreams, the local climbing gym in Manchester (or Manch-Vegas, or Man-Chest-Hair) as soon as I could. I’ve visited a bunch with old friends, I think I’ve been apple picking three times already this fall, and have done a ton of climbing with the usuals from VD. We even went to the first Nor-Easter Climbing Festival up at Tenney Mountain about a month ago. Saw some climbing movie premieres and brushed elbows with the likes of Sharma, Graham, Kinder, Caldwell and Rands.

I also made it back up to the White Mountains to hike the legendary Mt. Washington again. And yet again, the temperamental mountain gave me crappy weather, and I had no view from the summit. This time I hiked up with Jakob and his friend Maureen, who was visiting from Oklahoma. We still had an excellent time, even though we were completely soaked from hiking through the clouds, from cairn to cairn the whole way above tree line.

A new tradition started up this summer with the gym crew, bouldering outside at Pawtuckaway State Park on Wednesdays. I got in on this when I got back. Unfortunately the days are getting shorter, so we’ve been relying on headlamp and propane lanterns more and more for seeing what’s going on when climbing. It does make it easier to offer beta when someone is climbing though… just point to the hold/ foot with a flashlight.

A view of “Another World,” a current project of mine at P-Way, as seen from atop another slabby problem I sent

And Jakob working on “The Professor” the week before he sent it.

Last weekend I went up to Rumney for my first real sport climbing experience. Jakob and Kevin gave me some instruction on how to clip, and I led my first climb. (An extremely easy 5.6.) I did a few 5.8 and 5.9s throughout the day, and then got stuck at the crux of a 5.10. I don’t know how many times I threw for that tiny crimp with crappy feet. If I were about 3 inches taller it would have not been a problem. (but that’s an excuse… right?) At one point I had the crimp with my middle finger only, and stuck there with my hand all splayed out for a few seconds before slipping off again.


It was a good day all in all. Got a few more scrapes and bruises, climbed into the dark, and watched Jakob and Jeff work on their current project, “Social Outcast”, a 5.12. (not sure the letter grade) Here’s Jeff climbing, and lurking at a nice little rest stop…



And Jakob yelling at the crux…


No, those pictures are not crooked… the rock is really slanted like that.

The foliage was beautiful, I’m looking forward to getting back up there tomorrow for some more climbing. Maybe I’ll send that 5.10…

Lonely French Canadian explorers.

Continuing in the spirit of adventure and exploration, after I visited the Oregon Coast, I made my way East, (for the first time in 5 months), and slightly North, up to Washington state to visit a friend working on fisheries research on the Columbia River. When I arrived we immediately set out for a short jaunt to one of many local waterfalls, apparently in Big Foot country, and then came back and ate an excellent dinner of home made ribs. The next morning we set out again, this time for a slightly longer hike (6 miles... not 15 minutes...), to get some views of Mt. Adams, and Mt. Hood. It was a little hazy that morning, probably due to wildfires, but the view was still pretty amazing. And the plethora of huckleberries we found along the trail didn't hurt morale either. Getting back from the hike and making (banana) pancakes with those fresh berries was awesome.


I left that afternoon, and arrived the next afternoon outside of Yellowstone National Park. Of course, at 1:30 in the afternoon all the camping spots in the park were full. As a result I camped outside of the park in National Forest land. After spending two nights in the park, besides the inconvenience of being slightly further away from all the sights, the national forest was a much nicer place to camp, (and was cheaper.)

Driving into the park I immediately encountered wildlife. A minor traffic jam was created due to about 4 elk doe and two fawn browsing along a creek. After taking pictures, I moved on, and found even more elk.


After seeing some of the more touristy spots in the park (meaning people just drove up, hopped out of their cars for approximately 5 minutes, then jumped back in again), I was getting sick of the crowds. So I set out on a little 6 mile round trip hike to Shoshone Lake, the largest back country lake in the US. It took me about an hour to hike out on the flat trail. I lazed about on the beach and wading in the water for an hour, then hiked the hour back.



It was the perfect recuperation for the mad crowd at Old Faithful. You can't go to Yellowstone and not see Old Faithful.



That evening, while driving to my campsite, I spotted this beautiful rainbow over Yellowstone Lake.


That evening at my campsite, I made made friends with my neighbors, two girls from NY State, one in grad school, the other a high school shop teacher, who were making their way around the country on a 3 week, National Park tour. We sat around the campfire for hours, exchanging fieldwork, and other stories.

The next morning I woke up and made my way over the Continental Divide within the park to hike Avalanche Peak, a 10,600 foot knife-edged mountain in the North East of the park. I figured a 2 mile hike up couldn't be that bad... I thought it might even be faster than the Shoshone Lake hike the day before. As soon as I started hiking I quickly re-evaluated that thought... I had forgotten to think about the fact that I would be gaining over 2,000 feet in elevation in those two miles. The work was well worth it though, as I sat on the summit, eating my lunch, while taking in views of other peaks in the area and watching a rainstorm blow in over Yellowstone Lake.


That afternoon I made my way to "The Grand Canyon" of Yellowstone, and took in the 100 foot Upper, and 300 foot Lower falls in the Canyon.


The hike up Avalanche Peak, and the approximately 300 steps from the viewpoint at Lower Falls, was a warm up for what I would tackle the next day... The Middle Teton in Grand Teton National Park, just South of Yellowstone.


I ended up getting a later start than I wanted, (Lost my old watch, bought a new one, and apparently didn't figure out how to set the alarm), so I didn't make the whole 17 mile round trip, but I did get the 13 mile round trip up to the lower saddle, between Nez Perce Peak, and the Middle Teton. This put me at 11,692 feet after about 5 hours of hiking. I plowed through the first 4 miles up. Hiking nearly every day in Sheldon didn't hurt my condition. But the higher in elevation that I got, the steeper the trail got, and the thinner the air. Where we were living on Sheldon we were at at least 6,000 feet all summer, so I had that going for me. But I started to feel it when I got to the Moraine region of the mountain, while hiking up next to the Middle Teton Glacier.


How exhausted I was at the end of the day was well worth the beautiful views from the Lower Saddle.

"Ocian in view! O! The Joy!"

So after some frenzied job searching while visiting the cites of Corvallis and Portland OR, I have come to the conclusion that I need to head back east. I had multiple conversations with potential employers, and just people around the city that said they didn't want to hire someone for just 3 months. However, the good news is, that I know if I decide to get some culture for a while and move to a city, Portland is a good bet for me. (And a pretty sweet place.)

Just the three days that I spent in Portland I got to experience some of its character. One of the first nights there Matt and I went to check out "Last Thursday." Last Thursday is a gathering of local artists and musicians, out on the street at night, selling their work, and performing their music. The street was not shut down, but it might as well have been. The place was crawling with people. People looking at the art, performing music, walking around on stilts, riding modified bicycles that were about 10 feet tall, and juggling fire. While there I bought a necklace from a guy with some of the most intense facial piercings I've ever seen. The next night Matt and I were invited to a pot luck dinner/ blue grass jam session by an old friend of Matt's from when he lived in Portland. The next morning I went out on my bicycle to explore the city and run some job search related errands. I decided to head toward the East Bank Esplanade, and discovered that the Red Bull Flugtag was happening. The best I can make of the goal of Flugtag is just to make some kind of silly vehicle, that may or may not operate a bit like a glider plane, and run it off a ramp into the river to see how far you can glide. Awards are given for distance, and favorite team. Ridiculous vehicles and costumes are more common place than highly technical engineered marvels.


When I decided that it was time to make my decision, and come back East, I knew I still had one thing to do. I made a pact with myself that I would not return home without dipping my feet in the Pacific Ocean. So, I headed for Canon Beach OR from Portland. After a short drive I made it to Ecola State Park, where I parked... Then hiked just over a mile on a pretty steep trail to get Access to Crescent Beach. (The only access is via that hike, so there weren't many people there at all.) I spent a few hours watching the waves and the birds nesting on the rock formations out in the surf, took a little cat nap while listening to the waves, then decided it was time to get a move on when the incoming tide threatened my comfort.



The hike to the beach was well worth it just for that relaxing afternoon, but it was doubly worth it when I discovered a banana slug! (No, I did not kiss it. I have to draw the line somewhere.)



After Canon I made my way down the Oregon Coast on Route 101 for a bit, taking in the views and small ocean side towns along the way. I camped right on the Pacific at Lookout Point State Park, where I watched the sun set into the Ocean before passing out in my sweet new tent.