SV Kwai

Ship savvy

After a week around the Island with the whole clan, full of swimming, whale breeches, exploring, and beautiful sunsets, we've spent the last three days working like bees putting up the walls on the aina, gardens, and landscaping. Our time on the Big Island is drawing to a close as we are preparing for a voyage on the SV Kwai to the Line, or Kiribati Islands! Check out: http://www.svkwai.com/ for more info.

Kahuku Hike

One of the most important keys to living in a new place is understanding the tales, the ghosts, stories, and legends of the people that walked the land past. Ben and I tagged along for a ranger hike in our neighborhood through an old and gated-off cattle ranch. We learned of brave warriors, Hawaiian cowboys, violent earthquakes, tsunamis, and episodes of spewing lava. The land is harsh, which makes the people of Ka'u and Kahuku stubborn and strong. May I feel their presence as I tread over their ancient trails and stroll past their rock walls.

Progress

Lots of projects to work on, from boats, to building, to gardening. Here are some pictures of what keeps us busy!

Ka'u dirt

My feet are caked in Ka'u dirt from day after day in the hot sun, digging in the soil and working on Ben's land. From the jungle it once was, we're transforming it with the help of Michael, Colleen, and Ambiana into an inviting abode on the big island. When we're not on the land we swim, backpack, and play. One highlight was an overnight trip straight out of Ben's backyard through savanah like grasslands where we watched the sun set, then the moon rise yellow and looming through the skeletons of trees. With tired feet, and stumbling in dim light, our souls soared when we rounded the last bend to embrace the wild, pounding ocean and its salty spray, all to ourselves for the full moon. And to top that: while snorkeling at Two Step, I watched a sight that made me blink twice. About 50 feet below me, glimmering in and out of the aqua blue water, a group of dolphins circled in two directions. A belly flashed white, they appeared and disappeared. Not knowing where to glance, at the surface or down below, they broke the water's calm in froth of gray fins. Ben, just ahead of me, was surrounded. And don't worry about if we were harrassing these magical creatures, as they came to us. If if I wanted to, I couldn't have swum closer, as I was still trying to recover my breath by the time they moved on. We'd encountered these spinner dolphins during rest mode, and they circled in the deep and for a few minutes, then climbed for air for a few. Now once I hear the whales from under water my life will be enlightened.

hawaii pre view flipping out on the big island

what it be to all you folks were gearing up

for the sun whales and surf many more back flips and cliff diving to be had

grap your swim suit and come on over and kick it with us island style

Wonderland Christmas

Christmas, and Ben and I were snowed in. There was nothing to do but get cozy, fire up the sauna, ski, sled, build snowmen, and ski some more in the backyard. Coming in from the cold we enjoyed delectable home-cooked food and sat by the fire while Christmas choir music played over the radio. Truly, a magical Christmas. The only things missing were family, carolers, and sleigh rides.

Swimsuits in -40

I never thought I'd be warm in a swimsuit at -40, but with a steamy hot spring to hustle to, it wasn't so bad. I never thought I'd volunteer to go aurora watching at -40 and last for 3 hours, but with bunny boots and army mitts mixed with constant jumping jacks and foot stamping, it was bearable. The aurora played around the sky in casting green off the miles of untouched hills and spruce of the north country. I felt the earth's vibration, the empty hills calling me in. And then there was the wolf. As I drove up the Denali Park Road I thought to myself that morning, "I might see a wolf today." Then, walking back from the park's kennels, head down into my scarf, a voice warned me to "look up, you don't know what your missing." There it was. Standing as I had always imagined I'd see it. A white wolf, fur tipped with gray, piercing blue eyes, staring into me from the bend of the trail, 50 feet away. I stopped, heart beating through my chest, pulse quickening through my ears. A frozen moment in time, eyes locked with the wild, and then as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared. After a few more moments of silence, I willed myself forward. It was so magical, I had to confirm it actually happened through it's tracks. It had followed mine, paw upon boot print, until that moment we connected. It was real. My lifelong dream, just as I'd always imagined it. The north country, a land of bitter cold, a land where your mistakes can get you killed, a land of raw, undulating, beauty.

Tday in Seldovia

They called it the Thanksgiving Storm 2007. The predawn hours roared and howled with an angry mean wind. Trees succumbed to the gusts. Power went in and out, and I huddled in my sleeping bag praying the timber frame barn would hold. By noon the storm abated enough to allow all 14 of us (9 adults and 5 kids), to don foul weather gear and explore the Stanisch's land near quaint Seldovia. Their moss and spruce forests were converting to swamp and huge rootballs where trees met their fate dotted the landscape. Fully drenched, we returned to the house, where we dried our jackets next to a fire and feasted on all the traditional home cooked, Thanksgiving feast. The rest of the 5 days were filled with more eating, cooking, talking around the dinner table, long walks, saunas, beer drinking, laughing, playing with the kids, and general family goodness. Was that just the bite of the wind or a tear in my eye, when we waved good bye to the wonderful and amazing Stanisch's, as our boat pulled away, to whisk us back to the 'real world'.

Winter pleasures

Glancing ahead, Ben took a sip from his water bottle. In that split second of lost concentration, my balance failed, and down I tumbled, skis over poles, into a quicksand of powder snow. Ben couldn't hear my struggles from the crest of the hill above, as it took me over ten minutes to dig myself out. "What took you so long?" he asked, as I crested the ridge. We'd been chugging upwards for several hours, and my legs were begging to stop. But the beauty surrounding, sugar coated peaks, deep, deep powder, and the bowl to ourselves, kept us trekking. We were skiing the bowl I gazed upon countless times from town below. At the top, trepidation filled me as the seemingly "gentle" slope, now didn't seem so gentle. But with a deep breath, a few timid turns, and then another run, I regained my ski legs. We glided down the mountain, a glow with our meeting of fluffy powder. Soon we trudged over muddy streams and fall leaves in our ski boots, returning to civilization, hard to believe we'd just experienced such a serene wonderland.

First snows and hard frosts. Dry skin, digging out winter layers, reassessing the wood pile. Winter is coming and coming fast. Snow geese flying past frozen lakes. They're flying south and we're flying north.

It was a whirlwind visit home, full of harvest moon, fresh orchard apples, kayaking in a handmade boat along the fox while flushing out herons and kingfishers, long bike rides in the country side to the sound of crickets and grasshoppers, and digging in the dirt to create a new garden bed. The time was gone before I knew it, half the things on my list of fun things to do, left undone. It was comforting to see some things left unchanged, while most things seemed to move all too fast. There were heat lightning storms and countless laughs and smiles, a trip up north in time to see peak colors and the festivities of Oktoberfest. Mom, can you send more cheese curds?

Surfing the wind

Spent a weekend playing with the toys and hiking through the fall colors. The water was cold and the wind howling, skirting dead salmon the biggest challenge of the day.

Autumn Colors

My backyard

Daylight is dwindling, the devils club turning yellow and orange, and the tundra is a carpet of red. Fall storms usher in one of my favorite times of year up year, a time for hiking, for breathing, for that scent of autumn in the air, for the trails, and towns to empty out, and for the bears to stock up on berries and fish.

The rain comes down an inch and hour. You can either curl up to a good book or go get wet. I chose wet. Waking to the dark this morning, I lit some candles and slithered into a wetsuit. Got to the beach by 7:30 to meet Seward Surf Cult member, Nick. The waves were bigger than I've ever seen there. The water glass, pocked with fat raindrops, waves breaking big, sending spray higher than the retaining wall. The surf zone was as turbulent as a clothesdryer. I was pummeled from waves in all directions while attempting to maintain my grip on the 50 pound windsurf boards we were using after each ride. The dogs sat on the beach and howled as we paddled out, cheering us on. A harbor seal head emerged not twenty yards away as half dead salmon showed their fins. Nick even caught one bare-handed. I conquered my fear of waves today. I went for it and I was rewarded. Now that I've stood on a board and rode a wave, there's no turning back...

Scenes from work

What elevation are we at?

We finally got the winning question yesterday, and not only was it just one question, or one person, but man, we got them all! It was a day that started out hectic, behind schedule, and in a torrential downpour. At one point I felt my balance slipping as I stood on the edge of the dock holding the stern of a 100+ pound fiberglass kayak. After a morning of such events, I was just settling in to accepting a very ,very long day, when the clouds broke revealing that bright orb in the sky. The radio crackled with reports of Orcas 1.5 miles east of Pilot Rock. After suspense filled minutes passed of scanning the horizon with binoculars up on the flybridge, I spotted that sleek, dark fin, headed straight for us and my heart leaped in exaltation. But this new sensory overload for the tourists really got the questions flying. My skipper spent ten minutes explaining to one person that the elevation of the ocean was sea level. Then I had to explain why sea otters don't have blubber and whales do, including the consistency and purpose of blubber. Another man could not believe that the little chunks of brash off coming off the glacier actually melt, once they are in the ocean. I understand that if you don't have any experience around the ocean or glaciers you might have some basic questions. I am always more than happy to answer any question and teach about nature. However, yesterday was a day that left the skipper and me scratching our heads....

Home Improvements

Between busy work days and time off, Ben has been busy on the Sauna! Located down in the gorge, the peacefull stream trickles past as the fern and moss cling the cliff walls. Can't wait to put on the finishing touches and crank up that stove, sweat, and rince in the crystal clear waters!

Goat hair on the bear berry

It started out as a short day hike up Mt. Alice with Jason’s dog, Solars. It ended up being a 3 ½ hour climb, out of the hemlocks, past the alders, and onto the alpine and scree. The world of miniature plants, rock gardens, and snowmelt ponds emits a sense of serenity and peace whenever I tread over it. I climbed and climbed, past the highest point I’d ever been to where I’d been skiing with Ryan and Ben, and way past the rise I thought I’d turn around at. This was new territory! How could I stop? After meeting two hikers coming down, I was inspired to push it just 400 feet higher, up the rocky and unstable slope to get, “a good view,” as they explained. When I crested the rise, I burst out, “Holy &#@%, holy &#$#@!” as a smile danced across my face. I dared to peak over the edge, and quickly stepped back. The cliff dropped hundreds of feet down to a craggy slope, but spread out before me, lay the Godwin Glacier, as I have never seen it before, wrinkled, cracked, blue, and a long tongue of ice. Clouds screamed up from below me and dwarfed a little red helicopter heading up the Glacier. Waterfalls laced the cliffs and snow caves gaped treacherously. After an unwilling parting, I began the long, 3,700 foot descent down. Solars was long gone, and I was caught unawares when I rounded a hill and halted 30 feet before five surprised mountain Goats. Their coats were half shed, giving them a half human appearance. They split up in a second, disappearing into the rugged cliffs, all except for one. Then I spotted Solars, running like a wolf 50 yards behind a goat, heading straight for the abyss. “NOOOOOO! SOLARS, COME HERE!!!!” I shouted. My heart started to beat in trepidation, as they neared the cliff edge. The goat flew over and disappeared, but Solars had the brains to give up his chase. As I finally picked my way down, I gave him a half-hearted scolding, and then spotted the goat again, about 100 feet down, on a rock ledge. I lay close to the earth and peered over the lip at him for a good half hour. Every few minutes he’d wiggle his ears and shift around on the rock. The minute I turned my back, he vanished like a banshee. The thing that gets me good, is I was only a few miles away from home, while I was communing with mountain goats and prancing across the alpine and snowfields.