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| the bar to which all others are compared…
my second year of treeplanting used to be that bar. the bar of the worst. when some awful day rolled around i would think back on that season and say, 'at least i'm not hiking two hours up a mountain side with two boxes of trees on my hips and eight liters of water on my back for 11 cents a tree'. this season that all changed. the bar was raised and a new standard marked. i can safely say it has been the worst season in terms of contracts, quality specs, access, blah blah blah. i've climbed steeper mountains, planted more seedlots, screefed more tree spots and had to encourage others to do the same. personally, i can do it. i feel like i'm getting a little old to do so, but nonetheless i can still suck it up and plant the trees while grasping precariously to the side of a cliff face hoping the rock i'm placing all my weight on does not give way. telling someone else to do so is a whole other battle. and not always a fun one. but we survived. exhausted and elated, we've arrived in Alberta to the promise land of black mud gold and fast trenches. with four shifts left in the season, retirement is starting to smile wider, flashing it's grin whenever i catch a glimpse of the future. i'm not saying i'll never plant another tree but as for knowing exactly what i'll be doing from summer to summer, it's all up in the air, and if it includes my bags and shovel, then so be it, but if it doesn't, i'm sure another glorious adventure will welcome me with open arms and i'll smile in pure delight to be moving on.
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| Home from Central America and still on vacation...
I returned home to sunshine, temperatures of +25C and a full bloom of everything green and beautiful. My return coincided with Matt's between-quarter break so we packed up the dogs, the car and our expedition bags for a few days of hiking the Lost Coast of northern California. The dogs traded in their usual deer legs and porcupine carcasses for star fish and sea urchins as they enjoyed their first 'beach trek'. The sun shone, the weather was gorgeous, and we fit in some wine tasting with friends on the way out there. So really, although technically I'm home and my traveling has ceased, it really hasn't and I'm pretty much still on vacation. Next up: three months in Northern BC...but calling that a vacation may be a bit of a stretch.
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| and as always, it's the little things in traveling that make it such an adventure…
while staring down into a smoldering volcano, walking through brightly colored markets and touring around a multitude of old colonial churches are all quite enjoyable, it's sitting in the park as the sun sets with a group of young locals practicing their english, or spending two hours at a bus stop practicing my own spanish with the kids selling plastic bags full of cold drink that are most memorable. with two and a half weeks left my plans change every day depending on weather, place and mood…just as they should.
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| An hour and a half on a bus from Esteli, we arrived in a little hill top village called La Garanacha. It was immaculate in how it was taken care of with perfect little gardens, communal pens for their goats and beautiful corrals for the cows. We were shown by a boy to our little cabin and told that we should walk down for the sunset over the ridge. Standing overlooking the valley below the volcano peaks in the distance, we watched the cloud-filled sky change from yellow to orange to blood red as the sun dropped further and further in the sky. Then the winds began. By the time we had eaten supper and returned to our little cabin, the wind was howling, so although there were three beds available, we took the blankets from each, piled them all onto one bed and huddled down playing cards, eventually falling asleep to the ferocious winds.
 
The next morning any plans we had of walking around were put on the shelf as the wind had only increased through the night. So after a breakfast of homemade bread and village made cheese (so delicious), I suggested that we walk back down to Esteli. It was perhaps two hours and all down hill I told my mom. Well, two hours was more like four, and it wasn't quite 'all down hill', but the views were incredible and the little houses and villages we passed along the way were fantastic. It was much more enjoyable then the bus ride up, although our feet and calves definitely complained about it the next day.
 
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| paddling through alligator infested mangroves...
Paddling of any sort is generally my favorite form of activity, so when my mom suggested that we take the double kayak out into the estuary around the corner from our beach front hostel in Las Penitas, I eagerly agreed. It wasn't until we were half way through the mangroves that she then informed me that this area was home to alligators, a few of whom had been spotted just days prior by a couple on a motorboat tour. Seeing an alligator from a gas powered motorboat and seeing an alligator from a semi-stable water-level kayak are two very different things. So while we thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet of paddling through narrow mangroves, observing beautiful water fowl taking flight in the early morning, my mom got her kicks by paddling us closer to the shoreline, aka alligator resting places, while I put all my effort into keeping us well away from any such place.
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