Category Archives: Adventure

Time Out

Posted by dkrashb on
My happy, happy trail dog
Evening hike at Cloudland Canyon
Cloudland Canyon
Savage Falls
Savage Falls hike
Upper Savage Falls
Point Park
Trail to Sunset Rock from Point Park
Moss on the way to Sunset Rock
Theo
Cody
Gilbert
Ocoee Whitewater Center
Bridge over Ocoee Whitewater Center
Lizard on old Copper Road Trial near Ocoee

This is my last day of a one-week vacation.  Instead of going somewhere, a friend came down for a week of hiking in the area.  I managed to disconnect from my day job completely.

The reality is that work is going on without me.  I may have a few messes to fix when I get back, but those messes probably would have happened whether I was there or not.  And if I weren’t there, someone else would figure out how to clean them up.

I choose to take from this the lesson that if there is time for me to take a week away, there is time for me to take a breath during the day.  There is time for me to stop at a reasonable hour and pick up again the next day.  There is time for me to take care of myself regardless of what messes come up.

I re-learned the truth of how important unplugged time is to me.  Going out into the wilderness where there were no sounds besides the wind blowing through the trees, water tumbling over rocks, and occasional conversation with my friend brought with it a sense of connectedness with the world around me that hours in front of a computer cannot achieve.

The computer, whether for work or just for fun, takes me away from the here and now.  Choosing footholds along a rocky trail puts me intensely in the present moment in a way that’s hard to achieve typing on a keyboard or reading an email.

I also re-learned the power of physical exertion.  The sense of aliveness and appreciation for every bone, muscle, blood cell in my body intensifies as the trail becomes more challenging.  The ability to move myself rhythmically up a steep rocky climb turns into a sense of power and wonder.  The body is a marvelous thing to inhabit when it’s working well.

And, I re-learned the joy of pushing limits just a little.  Hiking with a friend who hasn’t hiked much helped keep me from over-doing.  It kept the soreness to a minimum and allowed me to enjoy what I was capable of without suffering what might otherwise have been the pain of over-exertion.  Happy medium is called “happy” for a really good reason.

Taking time away also gave me the time and energy to consider alternative possibilities.  The freed energy led to imagination and my imagination went wild.  At the end of a week of time “off”, I find myself full of hope.  Hope that I can make time for what is most important to me.  Hope that anything truly is possible.  Hope that life can be joyful on a daily basis.  Hope that I can return to my “normal” life and make it a little less normal and a little more peaceful.  Hope that if I can do that, the world as a whole can be more peaceful, too.

It was a good vacation.

Missing Summer

Posted by dkrashb on

It dawned on me today that it’s August.  Kids are getting ready to go back to school just as I am noticing it’s summer.

This summer, I have spent sitting.  I’ve done a little math.  I figured I’ve spent an average of 80 hours a week sitting in front of a computer, 45 hour sleeping, 7 hours walking the dog(s), 1 hour doing yoga, 14 hours eating (mostly more sitting), 3 hours socializing (yet more sitting), 3 hours shooting, 4 hours working with birds, and the remaining 11 hours doing mundane tasks like getting ready in the morning, driving places, grocery shopping, dog washing, dog feeding, taking the dog to the vet, making coffee, and doing household chores.

That’s not exactly how I might have planned my summer.

I think back to the summers of my childhood when they seemed to stretch on forever.  I remember running around in the neighborhood with my friends playing whatever game we could come up with much of the day.  If I wouldn’t have been an avid reader, I probably would have spent the entire day outside.  When friends weren’t available, I took my books outside and read in our treehouse or in a make-shift tent made of blankets hung over our swing set.

There were chores and, when I was old enough, a job.  But my first job was mowing lawns–even that felt like a fun outdoor activity once I got started.  I used to love the smell of fresh cut grass and the look of a neatly trimmed lawn.  All of it spoke of summer to me.

It’s funny that we grow up thinking we will have summers forever.  Summers with less responsibility, fewer deadlines, and an open schedule.  Summers where the biggest worry is that we’ll be bored.  Do kids still have summers like that?  I miss them.

I miss the feeling of sleeping in on a weekday, rising to an empty house with a stocked fridge.  Meandering through the day without a single thing planned, required, or demanded.

I suppose the whole summer wasn’t like that.  There was a week of camp.  Days I had to do things.  But I looked forward to those days because the freedom of the unplanned days was sometimes overwhelming.

I entered this summer without acknowledging it.  I didn’t just spend it sitting; like walking past a lost penny, I didn’t pick it up to spend it at all.  I didn’t notice the longest day of the year.  I didn’t catch any fireflies.  I didn’t spend a single night gazing at the stars.  I didn’t take a moment to sit in the shade on a hot sunny day, feeling the breeze and thinking life is good.  It seems like a summer wasted.

Nice Hotel

Posted by dkrashb on
My view

My view

My recent business trip took me to Nice, France and Monte Carlo, Monaco.  I know it’s hard to feel bad for someone who just went to the French Riviera, but I’d like to point out a few facts that make me sympathy worthy:

  1. I arrived Monday morning and departed Thursday morning after 2 hard days of work,
  2. I stayed in Nice, but the conference was in Monaco, resulting in a 1 ½ hour bus ride from hell during rush hour traffic on Tuesday morning,
  3. Pat couldn’t come with me
  4. Tisen couldn’t come with me
  5. I spent 40 hours traveling in exchange for 72 hours on the French Riviera.
OK, so it's a King-sized bed, but check out the carpet

OK, so it’s a King-sized bed, but check out the carpet

If that’s not enough, let’s talk about my hotel room.  First, I had a sense of deja-vu when I arrived at my hotel.  I didn’t remember where I stayed the last time I was in Nice (in May of 2006), but when I walked into the lobby, I was pretty sure it was the same hotel with an updated decor.

These chairs were "updated" with orange slip covers looking like they're in desperate need of a cleaning

These chairs were “updated” with orange slip covers looking like they’re in desperate need of a cleaning

Unfortunately, the updated decor stopped at the lobby.  I had to chuckle at the orange shag carpet and matching accessories in my room.  I did not, however, chuckle at the tiny little room with a toilet, and only a toilet, in it.  Fortunately, I discovered a bath tub and sink in a separate room opposite the toilet room.

I tried hard to remember whether the toilet was separate from the bath and sink the last time I was in France.  I never did manage to come up with that memory, but everyone I talked to had the same arrangement no matter what hotel they were in, so I guess it’s a French thing.

Now I understand why some people call it a "water closet"

Now I understand why some people call it a “water closet”

The view from my room left something to be desired.  From the window, I could see the back of 3 surrounding buildings and the shed for the trash bins for my hotel.  This is not the kind of view one hopes for when staying on the French Riviera.  Especially not when one read that the hotel in question was a 4-star hotel.  I suspect the person who awarded the 4 stars was the owner’s mother.

I don’t mean to complain.  After all, it was a trip to the French Riviera that I didn’t have to pay for.  But no matter how glamorous it sounds to say “I’m going to the French Riviera,” the reality was far from glamorous.

One last look at the view from my window

One last look at the view from my window

Raptor Experience

Posted by dkrashb on
Artie always impresses his new friends

Artie always impresses his new friends

It’s been a while since I’ve posted about S.O.A.R.–Save Our American Raptors.  This is a fantastic, and very tiny, organization that cares for about a dozen or so unreleaseable birds of prey, making a life-long commitment to care for birds that may outlive the current organizers.

These birds stay fit and happy by participating in educational programs that help spread awareness of the importance of predators to our ecosystem and provide an up-close, one-of-a-kind experience for the human participants.

Unfortunately, not all of the birds can fly.  Some have eye injuries and wing injuries that make flight impossible for them.  The ones that can fly usually are human-imprints that cannot or will not return to the wild because they perceive humans as their parents.  Cayce, the black vulture, as a case-in-point, has been released to the wild three times only to return to her human parents.

Not a great shot, but Cayce is usually the star of the show, playing with the visitors and flying for them

Not a great shot, but Cayce is usually the star of the show, playing with the visitors and flying for them

S.O.A.R. offers an opportunity to have an intimate experience with their birds called “The Raptor Experience.”  This is actually how I first met Dale and John, the birds caretakers and directors in the organization.  About a year ago, I saw their poster at the Lookout Mountain Flight Park when we were taking hang gliding lessons.  Pat and I called and scheduled our experience and were amazed by the whole thing.

This participant enjoys meeting Buddy, an Eastern Screech Owl

This participant enjoys meeting Buddy, an Eastern Screech Owl

Since that time, I’ve been volunteering for S.O.A.R. whenever and however they need me.  When Dale called me over the holidays and asked if I could assist her with a Raptor Experience, I was thrilled to have the opportunity.

Two couples and a friend arrived at the S.O.A.R. location in a van driven by Dale.  Because the road back to S.O.A.R. is a bit tough on the suspension, Dale or John meets attendees at a nice, smooth parking lot a couple miles away and then shuttles them to the site.  Sometimes the ride up can be a bit of a thrill–slick mud made for some tricky maneuvering on this particular day, but Dale’s experience negotiating the road makes it a very safe ride.

Artie watches his new friend carefully, probably hoping he'll get petted (he did)

Artie watches his new friend carefully, probably hoping he’ll get petted (he did)

I helped get birds out, put them on gloves, and talked about them in a sort-of tag-team with Dale.  I realized that while I think I know a lot about the birds, I have much to learn.

The owls are always a favorite for visitors–perhaps because they’re the only raptors in the program who enjoy being petted.  If you scratch the back of Artie’s neck just right, he rolls his head back, his eyelids close and you could almost swear you hear him moan.

Jerry enjoys being petted, too.

Jerry enjoys being petted, too.

Like Jerry and Buddy, the Eastern Screech Owls, Artie, a Barred Owl, was hit by a car.  All 3 owls are unable to fly as a result of their injuries.  Most people are surprised when they hear the owls were hit by cars, but statistically, this is the most common way that owls are injured.

Maybe we should put up owl crossing signs?

 

Theo like to flap a lot--he's one of the human-imprints that can still fly

Theo like to flap a lot–he’s one of the human-imprints that can still fly

Atsa Yazi, the littlest eagle, is a small male Bald Eagle who was shot when he was only a year old, costing him his wing

Atsa Yazi, the littlest eagle, is a small male Bald Eagle who was shot when he was only a year old, costing him his wing

 

Ascending Stone Door

Posted by dkrashb on

Having descended as far as we were willing to climb and absorbed the scenery, we decided to start back up to the top of Stone Door.  We started our way back up the steep ascent.

Scrambling back up the fallen outcropping proved easier in terms of keeping our footing, but more difficult when it came to heart rate and breathing.  I was quickly reminded that I haven’t been spending much time on my bike of late.

Truthfully, there is not much that seems to prepare my body for steep climbs other than, well, steep climbs.  Every time I take the steps, I am reminded that riding a bike, rowing a sculling boat, doing yoga, and walking are not really comparable exercises.

This day, I was reminded that only stair climbing is good preparation for ascending steep slopes.  I am not fond of stair climbing.  I’d much rather climb a steep hill out of breath than spend hours going up indoor stairs in preparation.

When we reached the first plateau, we stopped.  I pretended to want to take more shots of the cliffside above us.  I really just wanted to catch my breath.  But, the cliffside was fascinating.  The volume of rock that had fallen next to the volume of rock still standing made my knees feel a little weak contemplating what it would be like to be standing on top of the overlook when it suddenly caved away.  I hope no one was there the day the rocks fell.

A chunk of the cliff fell in what must have been the same position it was in at the top

A chunk of the cliff fell in what must have been the same position it was in at the top

This chunk of cliff must have fallen long ago to have been reshaped into a smooth mound

This chunk of cliff must have fallen long ago to have been reshaped into a smooth mound

The natural overlook at the top of Stone Door framed between the trees

The natural overlook at the top of Stone Door framed between the trees

We continued slowly up the rest of the ascent.  I’ve learned that racing up steps doesn’t pay.  Racing leads to having to stop for long recovery times.  A slow steady pace allows the heart and lungs to keep up so the turtle passes the hare.  I learned this when hiking in the Rockies.  In my twenties, my friends and I sped past a woman who was probably the age I am now only to be passed by her when we were all sucking wind later.  We repeated our folly, passing her and being passed again 3x before reaching the end of our hike.  She finished well ahead of us.  That’s when the lesson sunk in.

We made it back up the wooden stairs and slowly made our way up the slippery, dripping stone steps through the stone door.  I paused at the top to take a shot of the pitcher-handle tree at the entrance.

This crazy tree marks the entrance to the Stone Door

This crazy tree marks the entrance to the Stone Door

Having worked up a sweat, we decided it was a good time to find a flat rock to sit on and have our picnic lunch.  We stayed much further back from the edge of the overlook this time–the image of that overhang was still fresh in my mind.  While we feasted on our wild-caught smoked salmon, carrot sticks, and apples, the dogs chewed happily on pigs ears.  Tisen had to be convinced it was edible.  But once he got a good grip on it, he was sold.  Good thing–he’s allergic to salmon.

Tisen enjoys a tasty treat at the top of Stone Door

Tisen enjoys a tasty treat at the top of Stone Door

Descent Below Stone Door

Posted by dkrashb on

Once we reached the bottom of the Stone Door, we continued downward beyond both sets of manmade stairs.  If we’d been feeling more in shape, we might have gone all the way to the bottom of the valley.  However, it was Christmas Day and we weren’t prepared to make the return climb back up, so we limited our descent to a distance we could comfortably climb back up.

The path went through fallen outcroppings of rocks.  Rough natural steps were formed (or maybe occasionally placed) from the fallen limestone.  But the steps were uneven with cracks and slippery spots.  I nearly fell on more than one occasion while working my way down one of the larger rocks.  All I could think was “protect the camera.”

When we reached the point we decided would be the end of our descent, we stopped and looked back.  The outcropping we’d been standing on earlier looked a little more frightening in the context of the enormous chunk of fallen rock we’d just scrambled down–particularly when we saw just how much that overlook juts out from the cliffside.

An example of a rock shelf that looks like it will slide off down the hill at any time

An example of a rock shelf that looks like it will slide off down the hill at any time

Looking back at the overlook we'd been standing on, we realize how much of an overhang their is

Looking back at the overlook we’d been standing on, we realize how much of an overhang their is

So much of the stone looked like it was precariously perched, just waiting for the wind to pick up enough speed or water to pour down hard enough or lightening to strike or a few too many hikers to jump up and down on the overlook to break free and find its way down to the valley below.

Tisen and Twiggy were unimpressed by the scene.  They were busy searching through the leaves for interesting new scents.  Did they find evidence of a bear?  Perhaps just a deer.  Whatever smells they found, they buried their noses in them and wagged their tails feverishly.

Thankfully, Pat had them back on leashes and was able to keep them from running off on down the valley tracking whatever scent they’d picked up.  To be honest, Twiggy probably knew exactly what scent she’d found–she’s a true hunter.  Tisen was more likely to just be imitating Twiggy, going through the motions, trusting that Twiggy had found something really good.

We stood gazing at the fallen rocks with trees growing out of them and tried to guess how long those rocks have been lying there.  I have no idea how to guess how old the trees decorating them are–they could be 20 years or 100 years old.  The rock no longer looks like a disaster scene but rather like it’s settled into the earth it met with some time ago.  The sharp edges have softened and fissures have opened in the rock, allowing for more trees to grow.

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I like this metaphor.  A big crash that seems like total destruction creates a place for new life to flourish. Lichens cover the rocks.  Leaves decompose on and around the stone, creating rich new soil.  The rock collects and redirects water into the fissures, watering the seeds the have fallen in the cracks.  Life reclaims the fallen and uses them anew.

When I Grow Up . . .

Posted by dkrashb on
Santa closes the parade.

Santa closes the parade.

Have you ever seen a more perfect elf?

Have you ever seen a more perfect elf?

The young boy sitting next to me had it own miniature santa.

The young boy sitting next to me had it own miniature santa.

I believe this guy was part of the Chattanooga Zoo entourage.

I believe this guy was part of the Chattanooga Zoo entourage.

The Chatt Zoo mascott.

The Chatt Zoo mascott.

A serious color guard does the flag proud.

A serious color guard does the flag proud.

The Chatt Roller Girls pose briefly

The Chatt Roller Girls pose briefly

Some girls grow up to be roller derby stars.   This is a sport I think I can relate to–I’ve never actually seen a roller derby, so I’m only guessing.  It just seems like if you’ve had a really bad day at the office and you like to roller skate, this would be the perfect sport.

With helmets, knee, and elbow pads, it’s enough protection to eliminate the whole fear of skin sticking to wood floors.  I’ve heard there are often broken bones, but heck, broken bones grow back stronger.

This gets me thinking about the classic question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I’m guessing not too many parents says things to their kids like, “Stay in school, get good grades, roller skate every evening, and you can get into the roller derby.”  Yet, why not?

I think there should be a few ground rules for deciding what you want to be when:

  1. Know your instinct.  Before you knew people expected things from you, before you knew you had to make enough money to support a family, before you knew you would be judged for what job you had, what was the thing you said you wanted to be?  Keep some of that with you.
  2. Ignore what other people think.  Many people don’t know what they want to be when they grow up.  Even long after they’ve grown up.  This usually happens when a person allows their sense of responsibility to overcome their desire to be happy.  Don’t do this to yourself.  A job you love is far easier to go do well every day, whether it meets other people’s expectations or not.  A job you do well is a job that creates opportunities for you.
  3. Think short term.  Setting a course is just a direction; it doesn’t obligate you to decide permanently.  Just because you wanted to be a firefighter when you were 7 doesn’t mean that at 18 you’re obligated to go off to firefighter school.  There’s a lot to be said for experimentation.
  4. Bring your best “you” to work.  No matter what you do or how long you do it, it’s a job.  It’s not a “come hang out and talk to me while I work” or a “come get a bunch of free samples”.  And there are always people looking for the up and comers.  Don’t forget to bring your character to work with you–don’t expect to receive what you don’t give.
  5. Remember what’s important.  Every once in a while, remind yourself you’re doing your job for 8+ hours a day, 5+ days a week and ask your internal child (the one that looks something like the Santa’s elf image) if this is how you really want to spend most of your waking hours.

BTW, my brother used to want to be a UPS driver–he thought delivering packages all year was far better than only doing it on Christmas.

 

Tisen’s Turn

Posted by dkrashb on

I imagine our day from Tisen’s perspective.  If Tisen were writing this post, what would he say?

“Mom put antlers on my head.  I’m felt stupid, but Mom kept smiling, so I pretended I liked it.  As long as I had my fluffy bed and Jack, I really didn’t care about the antlers.

Mom also put a snug sweater on me.  It was warm and felt like a hug.  Daddy rolls his eyes when Mommy puts it on me, but I kind of like it.

They left me in the sunroom with my breakfast and a rabbit.  I gobbled down my breakfast before the rabbit could get out and steal it, but then I was in the sunroom all by myself with that rabbit.  It kept watching me.

Eventually, they came back and took me outside.  I got to sniff and pee on some of my favorite spots, and then, JOY!  They finally let me back in the van.  I love the van.  It takes me places with Mommy and Daddy.

We didn’t go very far before we stopped though.  Mommy and Daddy met up with Uncle Paul and Aunt Megan.  I watched them walk into a building.  It was so windy, Mommy’s hair flipped up like a toupee in the wind.

They were in there a long time.  I got worried.  I decided I’d better take shotgun position so I could keep a closer eye on the door.  It was getting cold in the car while I was sitting there.  Mommy left me a blanket on my fluffy bed, but I was determined not to take my eyes off the door, so I stayed put.

Eventually they returned.  Mommy got in the seat with me and let me sit on her lap while Daddy drove around for a little bit.  Mommy was so warm.  She pulled the blanket over my cold ears and paws and cuddled me while Daddy went somewhere.  When Daddy came back, I had to get in the back on my bed.  I didn’t want to leave Mommy, but she insisted.

Mommy covered me with my blanket and then we drove for a really long time.

I was getting too warm.  I had to get out from under my blanket.  Then, we stopped and Daddy took off my jacket and walked me around in some nice grass.

After that, I got to sleep in the back for a long time.  Mommy was sleeping in her seat, too.  I was a little worried about her because her head kept tipping over, but every time I checked on her, she was OK.

After a long time, we were in my very own parking lot and Mommy took me for a walk around my very own park.  Then, we went inside and I found Tiger, Blue Dog, Skunk, and Big Dog all waiting for me.  I told them all about my adventure, but I’m not sure they believed me.  Especially the part about the rabbit.

A Little Whimsy

Posted by dkrashb on

I’m in the mood for some whimsy.  And what better place to find the whimsical than Key West, Florida?  I am not there.  But, I have photos from the last time I was.

We went to Key West the long way.  We drove from Columbus, Ohio through Shenandoah National Park over the Blue Ridge Parkway to Congaree National Park in South Carolina, to Everglades City, to Key West.

I am not one of those people who goes to a city and immediately wants to know where all the art museums and galleries are.  Don’t get me wrong.  I enjoy art.  But I’m easily overwhelmed.  Even more so when the art is violent and bloody.  There are entire eras of art that I prefer not to know about.

The Custom House in Key West might be the only art gallery I’ve ever gone to where I managed to walk through the whole thing and still felt so fascinated, I peeked in at an upcoming exhibit that wasn’t open yet.

What kept me interested was whimsy.  If ever there were going to be a place with an art and historical museum full of whimsical wonders, Key West would be the place.  Even before we made it inside, we were amused by the life-like sculptures outside performing day-to-day tasks ranging from sweeping trash to taking pictures.  We kept getting confused as to who was real and who was art.  I guess that means we were all art.

Inside, we found more life-like sculptures, all by Seward Johnson, of scenes from some of the most famous photos ever.  Like the WWII guy kissing the girl at the end of the war.  Or Marilyn Monroe with her white dress over an air duct in the Seven Year Itch.  Can you tell who doesn’t belong in that image?

There were also several sculptures based on famous art.  The girl with the pearl earring was there (not pictured) along with The Landlady (based on L’Arlesienne by Van Gogh) who was hanging out on the porch of the Custom House.  She was even more amusing because of the plastic outdoor chair positioned on the porch next to her, implying that she had just been visiting with someone.

But, above all, my favorite sculpture was called “Day Dream.”  This was a bigger-than-life sculpture of the Matisse painting called “Dance” but with the addition of an adolescent boy laying on the ground as the naked ladies dance in a circle above him.  At first, I thought the boy was real, perhaps because there were real people going in and out of the sculpture as well.  I thought it was rather bold of a guy to lay on the ground in the middle of a sculpture of dancing naked women.  Turns out being bold was what the artist had in mind all along.

Skin Problems

Posted by dkrashb on

I have one last story from our wedding/elopement (that always seems like a fake word to me) to share with you and then I will return to current events in tomorrow’s post.

On the day after our “wedding,” we decided to go to Taliesin West–the Frank Lloyd Wright school of architecture that was out in the middle of nowhere the first time I visited  in the early ‘90s.  As of 6 years ago, it was on the outskirts of Scottsdale.  Now, it may be in the middle of downtown.

I like Frank Lloyd Wright buildings when it comes to interesting places to visit.  However, I wouldn’t want to live in one.  For one thing, he apparently sized everything to make himself look taller.  I am tall.  I don’t feel the need to be made to look taller and I don’t really appreciate being forced to duck through doorways just because the man had a complex.  It is a great tour, however.

Only about 5 miles away, McDowell Mountain promised a nice hike in the afternoon, so we took the long route back to the resort and made a stop at McDowell.

Mountains in Phoenix are like miniature versions of the mountains of the Pacific Northwest minus all the foliage and, of course, snow.  Without the trees and snow caps, they resemble acne.  The desert is suddenly, almost rudely, interrupted by a big old brown bump that looks like some sort of underlying infection caused it to swell above the surface of the landscape.  I mean this in the most loving of ways.

While the sudden appearance of these bumps on the landscape might be somewhat odd, one of the great advantages of these isolated, suburban mountains is they afford amazing views across otherwise flat land.

How could we resist making the short drive to one of these pimples to check it out?  Unfortunately, we didn’t really pack hiking clothes.  We had many layers and waterproof jackets/pants for the Grand Canyon tour, but waterproof clothes are really hot.  While it wasn’t scorching hot in Phoenix in December, it wasn’t “wrap yourself in plastic and hike up a mountain” cold.  Having just come from Taliesin West, we were wearing our “good” clothes.  We looked the paved, gently graded trail and decided we would be just fine.

For once, we were right.  Although the climb got a little steep, we managed to make it to the top without sweating through our shirts too badly.

And the views were completely worth it.  It was at that moment I realized why so many people move to Phoenix.  That little pimple makes for quite an overlook!