Bizzaro Organ Pipe National Monument

Really the only bizzaro thing about it was the weather. Last time we worked in Organ Pipe it was over 100 degrees, this time we are wearing sweaters. Winter has come to the southwest. The rain came. All night and all day and everything was damp, most things were wet, and some things were soaked. I smiled and laughed as I sunk to my ankles in the mud as I attempted to dig up prickly pear. My crew wore a combination of pouts and anger. This is the desert? Then the fog came and everything that was damp was wet and everything that was wet was soaked. With the morning came the sun and it burned through the fog until only fluffy white clouds remained. But the desert rejects moisture and everything continues to be damp.
With one hitch left people are definitely getting good at getting on each others' nerves, but we continue on working and laughing and having a good time. This time around no asphalt work for us! In fact we mostly worked with the restoration team. Picking creosote seeds, installing signs, removing prickly pear, and removing buffelgrass. Half of us spent a day with Steve, the engineer turned seasonal park maintenance man, surveying and laying out the rest of the cacti nursery that we started with him last time we were here. We worked on the border fence road practically touching Mexico while our armed guards patrolled the area. At night we look out over the lights of Mexico. Funny how much an invisible line on a map can mean. On our last day of work we were pulling buffelgrass. As I was hacking away at the root system of a mature plant, I heard the weak rattle of a western diamond back. I woke it from it's cold weather slumber with a swift wack to the face. It's bottom jaw was falling off. I was not allowed to put it out of it's misery. It continued to angrily rattle for the remainder of the day as we continued working a few yards away. My heart sinks. It is going to die slowly.
In the midst of it all crew member, Cory, did an education on climate change re igniting my fire for what I am doing. I feel I had lost a lot of my passion and reason for doing my job and living a conscious lifestyle. I had forgotten the importance of the little things I can do to make a positive impact on the well being of our Earth and am embarrassed at how easily the fog of apathy and complacency had washed over me in the ho hum of everyday life. I find myself re invigorated and re committed to living an ecologically conscious lifestyle, attempting to leave as small of a footprint as possible, and appreciating mother nature for all she has to give. Thank you Cory for the small reminder.
Caruck update: The caruck is currently in my father's garage and the engine is in pieces on the work bench. Broken alternator belt, broken timing belt, bent valve, scratched piston, broken cam followers... Basically Dad is rebuilding the engine. Best birthday/Christmas present ever. Fingers are crossed that he doesn't find too much more wrong with it and that I'm able to drive it back to Tucson after the holidays.

Desert Oasis

The last two weeks we worked on desert oasis habitat restoration. We moved from incredible location to incredible location pulling tamarisk, seeding, counting trees, and removing old irrigation pipe and tree cages. We camped on the Colorado River and then on the Salton Sea. The migrating birds overwhelmed us each morning with their playful frolicking and calls. On our way, California stole our oranges. On our way back we checked out Salvation Mountain and camped at Imperial Sand Dunes, got our suburban stuck in the sand, unhooked, unloaded, moved, and reloaded our trailer, over heated the suburban, blew a coolant hose, got the suburban unstuck, hooked the trailer back up, MacGyvered the coolant hose, and drove the 278 miles back to Tucson the next morning. Teamwork makes the dream work.
Then it was a whirlwind weekend to Michigan to celebrate the marriage of George and Kate and take in some real fall weather.

The smell of autumn and new fallen snow

Sometimes while working back country with a crew I hate my life.  Sometimes when my pack weighs more than half my body weight, and I can't stand up straight or even lift my pack by myself, and I look like a combination of cro-magnon man and Quasimoto, and every step is a delicate balancing act relying on my trekking poles and luck of proper foot placement, and I am so exhausted that I want to puke, poop, and pee all at once I hate myself.  Sometimes I hate myself for thinking I am indestructible, for thinking that this job is fun, for being a crew leader, for stepping up and packing in that extra 15 pound tool or bag of rice that someone much bigger and stronger than me could have taken, for somehow ending up with the heaviest pack on my crew even though I am definitely not the biggest, strongest, or best hiker.  But then I stop a moment in my delicate cro-magnon Quasimoto trekking pole balance, I breath in the fresh air, I look around at some of the most beautiful wilderness in the United States, and I love my life.  HOT DAMN!  I get paid to explore and live in some of the most awesome places on Earth!  Can't beat it.

This last hitch took place in Lincoln National Wilderness Area on the South Fork Trail #19 in central New Mexico.  It was my crew's first back country experience as a crew.  We had the usual ups and downs... at 8,000 feet the aspen leaves were changing colors, it was below freezing every night, our water source was near our camp, our gravity filter stopped working, our crew members got to learn how to cross cut, we didn't make sure we had handles that properly fit our saw, the scenery was beautiful, our hike to our work site was killer, the scenery was beautiful, there were yellow jacket hives all along the trail.. and so on.  All in all it felt good, and I came back to Tucson to a beautiful weekend of dancing in wildflowers, potlucks, vegan spanicopita, free yoga, and a community clean up.    

Early morning Border Patrol wake ups and 2 1/2 gallons of water a day

Our last hitch was in Organ Pipe National Monument, which is located on the Arizona/Mexico border west of Tucson, and we had it made.  Refrigerator, freezer, bathrooms with mirrors, flush toilets, sinks, running water, and showers, a group campground to ourselves, access to ice machines.  Fancy.  We spent our days picking creosote seeds, building raised beds for a cacti nursery, laying asphalt, digging footers for patios, a little of this, a little of that.  We celebrated Kendra's birthday with strawberry cake with chocolate frosting baked in our stove top  oven.  We spent our days mostly with the delightful maintenance men, Shawn and Steve, and occasionally spent time with ecologist, Kate, and two contracted armed guards, Bill and Steve, while we were working next to the boarder.  We met some Federales and found out our contracted armed guards did not know any Spanish.  We happened upon rattle snakes, scorpions, and kangaroo rats all around camp and had one extra special early morning wake up from boarder patrol "tracking some activity through our area."  We spent our mid hitch rec day at the Ajo Dairy Queen making ourselves feel disgusting.  All in a delightful days work in the southwest.

There is nothing like a storm in the desert

Arizona has been a whirlwind. Two weeks of intensive crew leader training straight into receiving our crews and heading out of town on hitch.
Crew leader training started off bumpy when crew leader, Lewis, walked off the job on day two giving the remainder of us a scapegoat when things went wrong. Then off we went to Globe, AZ to Tonto National Forest for five days of workshops and trail maintenance minus Lewis. We were at about 6,000 feet, surrounded by ponderosa pine forest, and above the Tucson heat.
Back in the oven that is Tucson, we prepped for our crews, received our co-leader pairings, and I made a deal with my friend, Trevor to live on his roof/couch during my 6 off days a month. My co-crew leader is Logan, a 6'5" skinny Virginian who's car also broke down on his drive here. The crew leaders went out on Friday for blues guitar and dancing, I spent the entirety of Saturday on Trevor's couch, and Sunday I went house shopping with my lovely cousin Bobbi Jo and her family who also just moved to the Tucson area. Monday brought on our crews. Tuesday we hopped into our van for a nine hour car ride to Carlsbad, NM for a hitch of trail maintenance in Slaughter Canyon. Our crew is a rag tag bunch of very diverse delightful young people who are managing to get along quite well.
Two nights into our hitch a storm rolled in that devastated our camp. The rain flowed like a waterfall and the wind blew like a hurricane and people got soaked and people didn't sleep and people's tents collapsed or blew over and people have a wonderful story to tell. The next day was beautiful and we were able to dry out. On our rec day we were treated with tours of Slaughter Canyon Cave and Carlsbad Caverns. Nature is neat.
On our way back to Tucson we stopped half way to sleep on the side of the road on BLM land with another crew. As I slept, boarder patrol crept by once an hour to shine their spotlight on each of us. I like to think of it as their way of ensuring our safety rather than them being jerks. We returned to Tucson safely, de-rigged, and dispersed. I spent most of my weekend off with Bobbi Jo and Matt receiving a tour of where he works (Caterpillar Proving Grounds) and hanging out. Then suddenly it was time to go back to work and off to Organ Pipe National Monument we went.

If at First You Don't Succeed, Try Again

I spent a week in Michigan, visiting with family, quickly visiting Grand Rapids, spending the weekend at the Woodward Dream Cruise with my brother and nephew, and regrouping before driving to Tucson with my mom for my next season of leading conservation corps crews.  We left Tuesday evening, caruck packed beautifully.  We made it 89 miles.  The timing belt broke.  Daddy came with his truck and car trailer in the morning and we made our way back to Niles.  Mom wasn't going to let a little set back like a broken vehicle ruin her road trip vacation.  Also, I think she wanted an excuse to get herself a new vehicle.  So off we went on Wednesday afternoon in the mommobile, which seems huge after the caruck.  We stopped in Rollo, MO and Amorillo, TX to sleep and arrived in Tucson, AZ on Friday evening.  We went wine tasting with the delightful Ashley in Sabino.  Today, I took mom to the airport and finally took a big breath.  Tomorrow, I start my next job.

Single Mother of Seven

After one more week at Sylvan Lake State Park busting out a massive amount of new trail, we hiked Hanging Lake Trail, had a surprise party for Matt, headed into Steamboat Springs, dropped off Matt for chainsaw training (he was switching to a chainsaw crew for fall season), and I became a single mother.  The now crew of 8 headed to Colorado State Forest State Park wondering why the state of Colorado isn't more creative.  The last week of work was relaxed and quick. We repaired crusher fine trail, repaired a switchback, installed some monowall, cleaned up after a logging operation, and while my crew spent their last morning of work hiking 8 x 8 wooden steps up a steep trail, I spent my morning vomiting.  The vomits stopped, we finished our last day of work, and we cleaned our gear and got ready for derig.  After deriging on Friday, the crews dispersed.  Crew members went directly home, directly to the liquor store, or simply disappeared. I spent the evening going out to dinner and playing in the wildflowers but alas I did not dance for the wildflowers were simply too fucked up. 
I spent Saturday at the laundromat, removing a summer's worth of filth from my gear.  On Saturday evening I drove my project manager's Jeep to Fort Collins in order to visit my super cousin, Caleb.  We spent the rest of the weekend frolicking about FoCo doing cousinly things before I flew home to Michigan on Monday, saying farewell to Colorado.

Higher than I've ever been

Today I woke up in the middle of meadow of tall grass and Colorado wildflowers moistened by morning dew with nothing but the sounds of a few buzzing bugs and chirping birds and a butterfly on my sleeping bag. The first thing I do is put on sunscreen. Soon chatter and laughter will rise from my waking crew members. We have two weeks left to our season and today we are going to the rodeo.
From the Great Sand Dunes we had six days off. We scavenger hunted in Alamosa, celebrated Matt's birthday in Silverthorne (movie, bowling, strawberry short cake, dinner), climbed a 14er, and taught another trail crew how to Dip.
Going from the lower elevation of Alamosa to hiking Grays Peak was less than delightful to say the least. It was beautiful. At the summit the clouds had rolled in and you could barely see your hand in front of your face. By the summit my body wanted to poop, pee, and puke all at the same time. But the sense of glory and accomplishment and the glee that comes from being on top of a mountain over 14,000 feet made us do it all over again the next weekend with three other trail crews on Democrat.
We spent the next two weeks on Mt Evans at Summit Lake talking to tourists, watching yellow bellied marmots sun themselves and mountain goats licking the salt deposited from urine around the pit latrines, building rock walls, staircases, and terraces, revegitating, and enduring lightning and hail storms. At 13,500 feet we were working above tree line along North America's highest auto road. Needless to say Mt Evans is the most summited 14er of the Rockies. On our third day of work, out project sponsor, Jon, crushed his right ring and middle fingers between two rocks, and I got to put some of that first aid training to use. He was back to work on Monday but doctors still aren't sure if they will have to amputate part of his ring finger. All is dependent on bone infection.
The below freezing temperatures and gnarly morning winds and afternoon storms on Mt Evans were trying but it is always nice to work in one of the most beautiful places on Earth, planting alpine flowers and fighting erosion even if a ranger threatens to give half your crew $350 fines (per person) for swimming in the lake.
For the past week we have been in Sylvan Lake State Park building new trail and sweating balls, having a close encounter with a black bear who was checking out our trail, and standing strong against raccoons trying to break into our van for our food leaving their little paw prints on our windows as evidence.
Two weeks left. One more at Sylvan Lake and the other somewhere else. Then to Ft Collins to visit my cousin, Caleb. Then a flight back to Michigan for a quick visit and regroup before mom and I drive the caruck out to Tucson.

Next Steps

I have been offered and have accepted a job with the Southwest Conservation Corps running out of Tucson, Arizona.  I will start work there a couple weeks after the RMYC season has finished.

How to cross a creek with a 60 pound pack

The wild roses are blooming. The cottonwoods are cottoning. The bears are hungry for human food.

I spent the last nine days in the back country of Great Sand Dunes National Park and preserve with my crew. We were to spend eight ten hour days in a row doing trail maintenance on the 11 mile long Sand Creek Trail focusing on corridor, snags, a trees that had fallen on the trail. It was the first time a few of my crew members had ever been backpacking. The first day we hiked in the six miles to our first spike camp, working a little as we went. Our packs were weighed down with food. Our hands were weighed down with cumbersome tools. We quickly learned as we hiked and as we looked closer at our topo map of the trail that the trail runs fairly straight southwest down the valley while Sand Creek meanders back and forth equaling about twenty crossings. We also quickly found there are many ways to cross a creek with a heavy pack and tools in hand. The Matt: gingerly hop from rock to rock or quickly scamper across a fallen log to make it to the other side only moistened by a drop of sweat. The April: follow Matt but do so very slowly, hunched over, wobbling, and with a big stick for support. The Wes: spend 5 minutes looking for a better way than Matt, then give up and follow Matt because we all know Matt is the best at everything. The Erica: take off shoes and socks and hang them around your neck while slowly walking through the creek with pants rolled up. The Bryce: follow Erica but curse loudly every time a sharp rock is stepped on (a constant string of obscenities). The Sarah: leave boots on and don't bother to roll up pants and ford the river. The Ama: follow Matt and fall off a rock ending like Sarah or slip on a log ending by army crawling across it. (The Ellen is identical to the Matt and the Adam is much like the April.) The Rob (saw manager): skips across the creek much like Matt then comments as others cross, "OREGON TRAIL! Ford the river! Oh no your wagon sank and your family is dead! Don't worry that's less mouths to feed. Now you have a better chance at lonely survival!"
We spent the next seven days perfecting the art of cross cutting snags and lopping branches, moving camp further down the valley, and exploring. We spent the evening of July 3rd on a ridge watching the sun set and the far off Alamosa fireworks. We found that as you come to the bottom of the trail and emerge from the valley and look south, "BAM! Egypt appears!!" (Matt) We found the remains of what we assume was a mining operation. We found a mysterious hole in the side of our van when we returned to it. We met and got to know our ever so delightful project sponsors Ed and Sean.
Despite the many daily creek crossings always ending in me getting at least a little wet, despite the mosquitoes, despite the bear I listened to ripping apart our bear hang demolishing our food the entire last night of the hitch, despite anything that might have seemed unpleasant, Sand Creek Trail and the Great Sand Dunes were incredible and beautiful and wonderful.

A dirt biker's dream: the smell of fresh cut cedar in the morning

Matt and I received our crew on a delightful Saturday morning amongst the chaos that comprises youth corps. We not so sneakily looked at our list as people took their turns in the introduction circle and one by one discovered our crew. They are young even though their ages range from 19 to 24. All but one have never done trail work before. They were the quietest group of people I have ever encountered for the first 72 hours. Matt or I would make a joke, which would be followed by silence. Apparently we are an intimidating pair.
For our first hitch we were off to work with the BLM for two weeks. We started off in Hardscrabble near Gypsum, CO cutting corridor on the world's greatest dirt bike downhill. It is not the world's greatest uphill on the hike out at the end of a long hot day. Our project sponsor, Boyd, was mesmerized by Matt's biceps as he sawed down tree branches, "you sure are a big boy aren't ya!". Two days of corridor down and we moved a few miles away to the Red Hills where we spent two and a half days rerouting a poorly laid out trail, cutting more corridor, and busting out some sweet rock work. It was a pretty impressive first week for a group of people who at the beginning didn't know a pick from a rock bar.
After a weekend of failed weekend recreation (flooded hot springs, road construction keeping us from getting to a trail head) we moved on to Rifle, CO where buck and rail fence was the name of the game. From there we were off to the Roan Plateau to fix barbed wire fence and weed wack around a BLM cabin. The Roan Plateau was very welcome scenery of greenery and aspen after a week and a half of dust and ATVs. Before we left the plateau, we checked out Colorado's tallest waterfall.
It was a glorious first two weeks. I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful crew or assistant crew leader.

Life as an American Pack Mule

Over the two weeks of crew leader training we all accomplished a lot but most of all, we all became Americans. We may have all been legal citizens but our project sponsor, Doug, made us all Americans. After treating us to a cook out, he brought out his glock and his Winchester 308 and taught us all how to shoot. I am now a more well rounded individual. According to Doug, I'm a natural. Doug is a law enforcement officer and land manager for the Colorado Division of Wildlife who blew off part of his right pointer finger with an M-80 when he was thirteen and now lives his life by the saying "safety first but fun is a close second."
In a whirlwind of odd weather from dippin dots falling from the sky to waking up to a quarter inch of ice on our tents to blistering hot days we worked for Doug. In Hot Sulfur Springs, CO we improved an existing fishermen's trail running along the Colorado River with boardwalks, bridges, and a french drain. We met Jack, Jack, and Juniper the resident mules and horse. We camped on old ranch land resembling a junk yard and ooooh-ed and ahhh-ed over beautiful sunsets.
Week two of field training had us relocated to Radium, CO population 9. There we dug ditches, hauled materials a couple miles up a running irrigation ditch, and worked on one of the most incredible and butt clenching work sites I have ever seen. The boards on a twelve inch catwalk over an irrigation pipe sixty-ish feet in the air needed replacing. The cradles that hold the catwalk are only stable when the catwalk is in place, there was nothing anyone could do for you if you fell, and DOW employee, Blake, did an excellent job of cutting catwalk boards to size with a chainsaw while balancing on a cradle. It was awesome.
Half way through training I was assigned an Assistant Crew Leader. Matt from Minnesota played college football and only eats meat, potatoes, butter, cheese, and ketchup. His father cooked him a pound of bacon for breakfast every morning in high school. He is in charge of crew meal planning. I haven't been able to talk him into trying spinach yet... Maybe if I put a bunch of Ranch on it... I already tried butter

Things they are a changin'

I have been in Steamboat Springs for two weeks now. Tomorrow we depart from RMYC's posh tent village to two weeks of field training. Saw and trail will go their separate ways only to meet again at mid-season rendezvous. I am a trail crew leader so I will be off to Hot Sulfur Springs with the other trail folk. Hopefully the suspense will be ended and we are assigned to our assistant crew leaders soon so we can start discussing what we want out of the season and how we want our crews to run. Either way it will be nice to get out of town, get dirty, and get some work done.
The past two weeks have been delightful. I have perfected the art of living in a single person backpacking tent in the midst of unfavorable weather, which has been a combination of rain and snow and a small bit of sunshine. All crew leaders got certified in Wilderness First Aid. We realized tent village had a tick problem. We learned all sorts of things having to do with risk management. I spent some quality time in the local hot springs. We geared/tooled up for the season. I re-waterproofed my rain coat. We sang and played music around nightly campfires. I bought new sunglasses. Obviously good times are being had by all.

The farewell to Michigan tour and another new beginning in Steamboat Springs

I couldn't have asked for a more lovely last week in Michigan. I spent it reminding myself why I came back to Michigan after Peace Corps in the first place. The weather was beautiful. And when it wasn't, it simply allowed for an excuse to stay in with friends. I walked around Grand Rapids, drank a beer at Founders, and ate lunch at Marie Catribs. I took the Caruck for one last adventure lazily driving up the lake shore, spending a night in the Lazy B Cabins and continuing on M22 to Sleeping Bear Dunes. I walked the pier in Ludington and ventured to the top of the lighthouse due to the generosity of Ken the keeper. I attended get togethers with family, friends, and the three caballeros.
Then I took three flights and a four hour shuttle and arrived in Steamboat Springs. Set up my tent in the yard space quickly becoming RMYC tent village, put on more layers, and marveled at the amount of snow still in the mountains. One day of training down, four weeks to go. Rain is in the forecast and the temperature hovers around freezing at night. I have a smile on my face.

Finally. A little something to say. Another adventure.

I left Peace Corps and Ghana on November 21st, 2009 and returned to Michigan, USA. There were a lot of factors that contributed to the decision to leave Peace Corps early and although I have missed Ghana on many occasions, I have not regretted my decision. I found that I had a moral disagreement with the impact of international aid/development, and I did not want to contribute to that machine or be viewed as part of it. I am very thankful for my experiences in Ghana and the opportunity to live there for six months.
For the past year and a half, I have been at a life impasse. I simply spent this time attempting to process where I had been and where I am going. I spent this time in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Sharing a bed with my hetero life mate, Sandra, and later living in the delightful urban farming cooperative that is The Franklin Farm. Working as kitchen staff at Making Thyme Kitchen, a driver at Valley Truck Parts, and a treatment coordinator at Turning Point Programs. Riding the bus, riding my bike, walking, and driving my glorious Caruck. Learning about me.
And so the impasse is over, and I am off on another adventure. On May 16th (after what I assume will be an incredible week of visiting with friends from all over the world) I fly out to Steamboat Springs, Colorado where I have accepted a seasonal position as a crew leader for the Rocky Mountain Youth Corps. Life is good.