Hiking the Grand Canyon - Sweat Equity

Julie C. and Julie B.  return just at the storm hits South Rim

With my free left hand, I grab at scraggly weeds protruding from the towering red cliffs behind me.  With my other hand I clutch my trusty walking stick for support as a mule team blusters its way around us on the trail.  Bored and burdened, these mules feel a strong sense of entitlement when it comes to trail sharing.   

 Julie C. at the Colorado River 

Hiking the Grand Canyon seemed like the right answer to lift my spirits.  My husband Glen had just set off for a month long International Red Cross disaster volunteer assignment to Sierra Leone.   I was in need of that magical feeling I get when totally immersed in Nature.  A super-fit hiking friend, whose name is also Julie, was up for adventure and we were off. 

Julie C. soaking at Indian Gardens creek

 Peering down from the South Rim the evening before our hike was a bit intimidating.  Our hiking plan was to hike down 9.9 miles to Phantom Ranch the first day, descending 4,500 vertical feet in elevation.   The second day we would use Phantom Ranch as our base and explore some short, inner canyon trails so our muscles wouldn’t seize up and because, well, ….how often do you get to have a day to explore the very heart of the Grand Canyon.  
 

Now, what you see peering over the Rim is awesome.  But make no mistake: the views, scenery and emotion that opens up as you descend to the Colorado River are unmatched.  Julie and I stop at Indian Gardens  half-way rest stop to soak our feet in the stream and snack on trail mix.  This mid canyon perspective - when you're deep into the colorful strata of erosion, but can still see the massive canyon sprawling above and below and to the sides - is the highlight of a rim-to-river trek.  Julie and I took turns listening to each other’s awestruck exclamations as we turned corners and saw new wonders.  But nothing can prepare you for a totally different kind of wonder; the amazing place called Phantom Ranch. 

Cozy Cabins On Bright Angel Creek

Canteen Menu - Beer, Wine and Trail Mix Top Sellers

Rustic as it may be, at the end of a hot and long hike,  Phantom Ranch looms more luxurious than the finest hotel.  After more than six hot and dusty hours on the trail, Julie and I claimed bottom bunks in the dorm and jettisoned our backpacks on the wall pegs.  Amazed by the flush toilet, shower and mirror (yikes!) I had to learn more about how this enclave called Phantom Ranch came to be. 

Julie C. Surveying the Splendor

Phantom Ranch lies beside Bright Angel Creek, a ways past the Colorado River. When Grand Canyon National Park was designated in 1919, its concessionaire was the Fred Harvey Co., who appointed Mary Jane Colter to design permanent buildings for tourists at the Canyon's bottom. She designed cabins and lodges using smooth river rocks and simple wood trim. Her style blended with the surroundings and became a national park standard.

More Than Their Fair Share of Trail

 Through the '20s, the ranch's guest book saw the names of America's brave and wealthy. When the Great Depression hit, the land across Bright Angel Creek became a Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) camp. Workers planted more trees and trails throughout the Canyon were improved.

Forward to 2012.  In the 100 degree heat of August, Julie and I and about 100 other trail-weary hikers and campers found cool refuge in the massive cottonwood and sycamore trees that now sprawl between creek and cliffs. At one end of an open area, park rangers offer interpretive talks. At the other end stands the Canteen. Meals are served family style, and we enjoyed Hiker Stew with salad, and chocolate cake.  Calories don’t count after a hike like that.  In the morning, pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs are a bit heavy but irresistible for our bonus day of inner canyon exploring. When the sun is high the canteen tables are full with hikers from all over the world who drink beer in the cool and share tales of their trips. After dinner, the dining room transforms into a sort of hikers’, canyon-bottom club with games of cribbage and checkers. 

Hikers Stew - House Specialty

But the best show at night is looking up.  We sit on the benches built in the 1930s by Depression era workers who enjoyed the very same show with the same original night soundtrack; moonlit canyon walls, crickets and bats chirping, mules braying and Bright Angel Creek gurgling by.  The climb out WILL be tough.  But the last night there was nothing better than to sit and enjoy our hard earned sweat equity!





A Happy Hiker

Mules At Rest Plotting the Overthrow of Hikers
 

In Coaster Brakes Country

Plenty of Working Windmills in Holland

“What are you doing down there?” Glen asked in alarm.  We were just out the door of the train station where we had picked up our big, Dutch bicycles.  “Looking for my hand brakes” I answered.   Glen should have been happy that I sacrificed myself instead of plowing into his bike from the rear.  Instead I chose to crash into a portable barricade that was now toppled onto my bike – now both laying on top of me right outside the entrance to the Central Train Station. The lovely Dutch people exiting the station sprang to my aid, clucking and looking extremely worried about my future on the bike paths of the Netherlands. 

Maybe the Babysitter Didn't Show Up!

Back in Arizona it had seemed like a pretty simple plan.  “Flat,” I told Glen.  “Flat with bike paths all over the place.   Along the canals, in the cities, from town to town.  Windmills along the way, tulips growing wild in the fields, the occasional cows and tall, beautiful people who love to speak English and welcome travelers into their homes for B&B.  And cheese.  Delicious cheese.”

Our guidebook assured us that we were in bike friendly territory and that every train station in every town rents bikes for something like 6 Euro a day.  We also checked out slick internet sites that boasted countless and beautiful 10- 20 mile loops that we could do as day trips.  So we gave up on the advance details and rented bikes in historic Haarlem - “our town” in the Netherlands.  



Cycling Along the Dunes of North Sea



Glen and I love to ride our bikes at home.  We ride them for fun, for transportation, and occasionally for shopping.  We figured it would be no problem translating those basic skills in a flat, cool bike culture.  The reality of things were somewhat startling however.  

First off,  the bikes are way different than our bikes at home.  Dutch bikes are heavy and built to last.  Our B&B host told us that her bike was over 30 years old and was her primary transportation.  She doesn’t even own a car. 

Julie Before the Fall

These bikes are also very big, tall and hardy.  Black, mostly, or spray painted some crazy color.  No gear shifts.  Rust on the fenders.  High handlbars with a large, colorful basket.  Wide, fat tires.  And here is the most important part -  coaster brakes.  The bicycle you learned to ride on felt like this.  That is how I found myself tangled up “right out of the chute” as we say in Arizona.  Searching for nonexistent hand brakes in a coaster brake culture. 

Bike Parking At A Train Station

Riding bikes in the Netherlands is not for the uninitiated.   Americans with visions of canals and tulips and windmills in their heads need to take a couple days to figure it all out by carefully observing.   The intersections have three sets of traffic signals: lighted spheres for the automobiles, lighted walking men for the pedestrians and lighted bicycles for you. On many streets you get your own lane, too, with its own yellow lane divider. This would make your inaugural bicycle ride quite charming and tranquil except for the motorcycles and the buses and the delivery trucks and the map-reading tourists and the

Our B&B Headquarters Haarlem

honking Smart cars and the ambulances going eeee-ooo-eeee-ooo (like from the Ann Frank movie!) and the other bicycles silently bearing down on you from behind…. At times it was scary as hell.     

We Never Found Out What This Meant!

While on our bikes we were commonly overtaken by the following type persons, all of whom pedaled  aggressively and glided past us like we were standing still: leggy blond Amazon women in miniskirts and four-inch platform shoes; businessmen and women in suits; teenage boys with girlfriends balancing sidesaddle on the back; mothers carrying two small children in the front and another clinging from behind; shoppers carrying packages piled up in their front basket; women carrying full sacks of market vegetables; an elderly white-haired women with her small dog peering out of a covered crate; ......None of these people, by the way, were  wearing a helmet.

Glen Pedaling Along Cow Country

For all our near – miss experiences on and around bicycles in the Netherlands we would do it  again.  Especially now that we have some training miles under our belts.  Do we advise our friends and family to take off on two wheels in Holland.  Yes, and we will again. 

Miniskirted Mom and Kids On Bike

But here are some warnings:

-          Most important to know is that you have to pedal furiously backwards to brake. The opportunity to clench your hand brakes in the face of an oncoming obstacle is sadly lost as I found out in my first five minutes.

Dutch Cheese Market

-          The bikes are generally built for long-legged, tall Dutch people. At 5'9", Glen and I were at the very minimum of height for those huge bikes. Not to mention trying to pedal backwards.

-          In cities, Dutch are often on the way to or from work and cycling for them is a serious means of getting from A to B as quickly as possible. Tourists in cities travelling at a snail's pace and stopping to consult their maps can expect to be clanged at by a whole string of bell-ringing Dutch men and women.  Best to stick to the countryside.     

            Cyclists are forced to share their path with mopeds and scooters who weave in and out of the bike traffic at alarming speeds. You never seem to know that they are there until the last startling moment.

 GO!  Bike!  Love it! If we can come out of it all in one piece so can you.  But next time we’ll bring our helmets.   



Dutch Cow



The Swiss Franc Ate My Dollar!

I nervously ordered a drink in my best French accent.  “L’eau con gassom” s’il vous plait.  Our local Geneva colleague nodded approvingly. “Three languages used in one sentence, now you are truly a Swiss.” 

Any country with four official languages is bound to be somewhat confusing for someone who doesn’t speak any of them.  Most amazing is that so many Swiss can drift effortlessly from one language to the next, scarcely aware of the transition.  A Red Cross colleague at the headquarters there explained.  “Some words translate my meaning better in French, some in English.   We find ourselves selecting the right word from among the languages we speak.”  Hmmm….Geneva is probably not the city for a French immersion course.  Or as I learned, for anyone on a budget. 

Julie In Sticker Shock Checking Into the Hotel

 I would go so far as to say that the words ''Geneva'' and ''budget'' are almost never used in the same sentence.   However, creative traveling and tips from Red Cross local colleagues allowed us to experience the “real” Geneva instead of the larger than life Private Swiss Banking version.   What I found out is that a few really great experiences are free or very inexpensive.   For example, all public transportation is free for visitors, and excellent.  The buses run often and extend way out of the city.  Attractive villages are scattered along the route, often with a post office and restaurant set around a fountain.  The bus routes extend into France along two different borders.  We found that out by accident when we took the bus to a village about 30 miles outside of the city and wandered into France for lunch.  We didn’t realize it until we were eating lunch on the front patio and noticed that down the road we had just walked was an abandoned  border crossing kiosk from the pre-EU days of passport stamping.



Glen and Julie riding the FREE bikes for visitors. 



I won’t say it is possible to eat inexpensively in Geneva, but our Red Cross colleague shared a great secret for low cost dining.  Our favorite place in Geneva is neither a bar nor restaurant, but a sort of public beach complex run by a neighborhood cooperative dedicated to keeping it accessible to all. It is of all things a bath-house , on the right bank of Lake Geneva, jutting far into the harbor almost directly opposite a tall plume of water, the lake's landmark fountain. From afar, the fountain might not seem remarkable. But from under the 459-foot-tall column of misting water, it's an awesome spectacle, especially when it's illuminated at night.  Between the funky public bath atmosphere, great food, reasonable prices and water show, Glen and I clinked our free tap water, toasted our anniversary and agreed we were lucky to find ourselves in this corner of the world where “simply ordinary” is never used in the same sentence as Geneva. 




459 ft tall Geneva Icon



Guerrill Knitting of a tree on the wharf in Geneva

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Niagara Falls - Nature Trumps Tackiness

I sat on the porch of the B&B sipping tea and studying the map.  Three days left to tour Canada and the rainy, misty weather had thrown a monkey wrench in my plans.  A plan that had seemed so brilliant …a masterful route visiting the best of the quaint villages along the St Lawrence Seaway on our way to a few days in Ottawa.  I just drew an imaginary line through my plan for the day; taking the ferry across to a nature preserve island.  We had already worn our foul weather gear the past two days and now the fog had rolled in with a light mist.  How to maximize our limited time in these weather conditions?

A promise is a promise.  I had promised Glen that this trip would be relaxing.  We would NOT go tearing all around the country at warp speed trying to see and do too much.  But considering the weather this new plan might now hold better sway. 

Laying out the map with a smile and refilling Glen’s tea I said,  “Did you know we are only four and a half hours from Niagara Falls?  And it is supposed to be way better on the Canadian side?  Like, doubly better according to the guide book. ”   

That is how we found ourselves barreling at warp speed on a very long daytrip ( is four and a half hours each way still in the day-trip category? )  to see Niagara Falls. 

The Canadian side had WAY more cascade.  And kitsch!

Things weren’t looking too swell as we entered the town of Niagara; a mini-Las Vegas w towering hotels and casino towers right along the Falls.  Tacky carnival looking stalls and food emporiums were further up the hill with larger than life ice cream cones and foot long hot dogs promising to smartly separate fools from their money.  This wasn’t looking so bueno as we say in Arizona.  But as we approached Horseshoe Falls on shaky legs, too cramped from the long drive, everything kitsch faded in the mist.  The roar of the cascade grew deafening.  With Niagara Falls, nature trumps tackiness, gallon after cascading gallon, day after day.  Niagara Falls is one of those tourist activities that can’t possibly live up to its reputation but somehow just manages it.

And as we stood there mesmerized by the roar I began to get it. To feel the bone-rattling power of all that cascading water up close is to understand the awesome natural wonder that is Niagara Falls. Thoroughly drenched, chilled and road cranky, Glen and I felt small and mortal, once again in Natures (with a big N) thrall.  This is perhaps the real point of visiting the Falls, to put nature and mankind in proper perspective.

Glen's ponders our 9 hour drive for a 30 minutes Niagara Falls experience. 

Warming Up to Cold Weather

I think we need to get a REALLY big snow shovel!

Nothing feels more like Christmas than a a nicely timed snowfall and a live Christmas tree.  As the saying goes, be careful what you wish for because the snow came in abundance.  And continues to come to the surprise of the La Nina "experts".  At first it was light, fluffy snow that started falling in mid-December. Then it became "let's have a talk" serious kind of snow.  Snow comes at will now, making the White Mountains of Arizona one of the whitest winter wonderlands in the west this year.  Not complaining.  I've really warmed up to winter in our cozy cabin with log firestove cranking out warmth and atmosphere. 
As for the live Christmas tree, Sky Island Woman would like to introduce you to a new member of the family; Pepe. 
As for his name,  Pepe has three brothers named Manny, Mo and Jack.  The first three were presents from our generous neighbor, "green thumb Francis" and those three Blue Spruce seem to be thriving at their new ground floor digs here at the cabin.  We thought that it would be kind of "green" to have a live Christmas tree as well as help repopulate a once common evergreen on some of our land.  So after much searching for the PERFECT TREE, Pepe was adopted and welcomed into our life here in the high country. 

Pepe getting acquainted during the holidays.


Thankfully we did all our hole-digging for Pepe prior to the big freeze (s).   He would have had to live on the porch till Spring if we had lost the bubble on Nature's Way. 
On the left you see Pepe on the cabin porch.  We know he is warm natured so didn't want him to get hot and bothered in the cabin.  Pepe is a fresh air fiend and we were happy to see his fairy lights and Christmas ornaments through the windows. 



Pepe In His Permanent Home


Another wonderful bonus of a White Christmas was some of the best skiing ever this early in the three mountains that make up the Sunrise Ski Complex in Arizona.  The skiing started in mid-December and is still robust after our weekly snow allotments.   PLENTY of powder and deep snow base (yipee!).  Because the cabin itself is smack dab on the Mogollon Rim we seem to have even more snow than the surrounding areas and were able to give rigorous field testing to our new snow shoes (from Santa).  

For those new to the activity, snow shoeing is great in every way.  There are no downsides to this cool winter sport.  Fresh air, exercise and it gets you quietly out into the entirely different world of winter wildlife.  Snowshoeing through the woods is like walking in a storybook that tells you what all the creatures of the forest have been doing when you weren't looking. Each animal has a special track. You can read where a squirrel bounded over to a tree and climbed up, where a rabbit ran fast in a straight line, where a  deer made a huge leap over a deep ravine.
Because the drifts were so high (2 ft and more in places)  I was pleased to see that deer and elk had made trails through the woods.  They make good routes, finding the gentle, less-extreme slopes. Glen and I followed in their tracks and tried to help establish a better path out here in the woods for us 'wild things". 

Here are some glimpses of everyday winter life at the cabin.



Snow Shoeing Is More Fun Than Shoveling!



Glen and Friend Lee Help Pepe Adjust To His New Home

Friend Ines Makes the Best of a Ski Patrol Assist After A Snow Boarder Got Too Friendly

Glen Tries To Lighten the Load on the Side Porch

Better But Slippery On Top!

Bayou Birding

Sky Island Woman Visits Her Mom In the Deep South

My Mom Birding With Me In The Bayou In Back Of Her House

“Let’s drag it.  It’s a canoe after all and made to take some rough conditions.”  My Mom and I were slowly waking up after staying up late to visit and catch up on each others' lives.  We were on her porch drinking tea and watching the birds feeding and singing in the crisp fall morning air.  Her house sits on a bayou that flows into the Gulf of Mexico.  It’s a pretty nice scene watching the birds coming and going from the lush cyprus trees lining the banks.  My Mom says, “Lets get closer to the birds” and points to a canoe next to the boathouse.  The two of us finally manuever the “heavier than it looks” canoe into the water.  For me, canoeing is a new twist on birding and a great way to forge strong memories with my Mom.      

Pileated Woodpecker In A Cypruss Tree

Stealth Is A Good Thing While Birding

              

As we glide along the water we silently approach a Great Blue Heron making like a statue.  Then it comes to me;  Birding is a walking-, hiking-, biking or even canoe-based sport that gets you out into nature where the birds are.  And sometimes "getting there" can be a great workout as well as fun and rewarding.
                        
A great thing about birding is that you don't have to travel to far-off oe exotic birding places such as Ecuador or Brazil.  Birding is an accessible sport you can do with limited equipment anywhere.  On a bayou, on a hiking trail or even your back yard.  Knowing all the bird names, their habitats, and other facts are not a requirement for birding fun (or I would be in trouble), but getting outdoors is.   Walk, run, or ride your bike to a nearby open space – preferably near a water source even if a backyard fountain or golf course pond.  Be sure to take your binoculars ( a MUST), enjoy the fresh air--and keep your eyes and ears open for activity. When you locate a bird perching overhead or bathing in a bird bath, stop and watch it.  Voila, you are now enjoying the fastest growing sport in America! 

Sky Island Woman Proving She Can Adapt to the Bayou 

As with any hobby, the more time spent on it, the more involved you become. My passion for being outdoors and hiking is what led me to birding.  Now my birding takes me to new hiking trails. and as of now I can add canoeing as a birding platform.  It's a thrill to spot and actually be able to identify a bird. Especially the less common varieties.  Plus I enjoy seeing new places, getting outside, and slowing down enough to REALLY SEE what is going on around me.  . 

So if you are ever out on the trails or on your bike or even canoeing, grab your binoculars, field guide and carry a little notebook to write down your spottings.  Better yet, ask a loved one to join you.  Even if you can’t identify the birds yet,  you’ll make some beautiful memories. 

Knee Deep In Oaxacan Chili



Mounds of Oaxacan Fried "Virgin" Grasshoppers 

What better way to get into the soul of a place then through native food, like the fried grasshoppers pictured here? If you like Mexican food, Oaxaca, the city of 7 moles(mo-lays), is your town. The markets are wonderful, especially for those brave enough to try new things. 

Did I mention the chilis?

Nora Valencia - Fabulous Oaxacan Chef 

Chilis chilis and more chilis.  Chilis for breakfast lunch and dinner.  Maybe its even possible for dessert.   Chilis fresh and dry in endless sizes, aromas and shapes — smoky, red, black, yellow, big, tiny and all levels of both mild, and very kaboom level hot!  Sacks and sacks of chilis that smell delicious in a way you can really experience in a Oaxacan market stall.   

Here I am at our B&B stepping out for my morning yoga fix.  Let me tell you it is challenging to have a "moving meditation" amid the intoxicating aromas wafting from the "hood".  Scents of fresh coffee beans and cacao mixed with cinnamon, sugar and almonds spilling out of the kitchen as the ladies spent an hour preparing mouthwatering traditional Oaxacan food for breakfast such as the stuffed pepper you see here.  This ain't cornflakes!!

Stuffed Smoky Pasilla Chili

Oaxaca's native foods such as chocolate, squash blossoms, chilies, and even fried grasshoppers, date to pre-Hispanic times. Oaxacans mixed these foods with ingredients brought by Spaniards-such as raisins, cinnamon, and almonds to create their own cuisine. Our friends Joyce and Eloy had arranged a day-long cooking class with a well known local chef, Nora Valencia. Mexican markets took on a new meaning with a Oaxacan culinary expert as our guide.  Nora, showed us how to distinguish a deep red, smoky scented pasilla chili from a handful of look alikes. We sniffed and tasted our way through the mercado, but the smiling and friendly women at the market stalls must have been used to cooking school students because they gave us samples and made time for our little group.

Los Caballero Chefs Don, Glen and Eloy

 Our cooking class had the feel of cooking dinner with friends-except that creating a four course meal involving over 31 ingredients which included stuffing and cooking four different types of chilis is hard work. Nora gently directed us and worked alongside. The stuffed chili dish was one of the most complicated dishes I had ever seen, much less made. I will try it at home but we may need a reunion to pull it off! All the chopping and grinding and blending and hours of effort produced a four course feast we enjoyed about 3pm. The complex flavors require a lot of work and I hope I have the fortitude to try it on my own.

Our Food Network Press Photo - Oaxacan Six  - Glen is Behind the Lens

Our feast was missing at least one Oaxacan snack: chapulines (grasshoppers). The saying goes, those who eat chapuline will return to Oaxaca, but I'll be back anyway.

Our B&B in Oaxaca - STAY THERE!! http://estanciadevalencia.com/

Our cooking class - Nora is fabulous!!! http://www.almademitierra.net/index.html