Crystal just told me my presence is calming. I'm fairly certain no one has ever told me that before. Amusing maybe, but calming? Most likely not. I'm sitting in her room watching her try on a punk wig named Vanessa. It won't fit over her bun. I guess the lady at the wig shop spent quite some time and effort putting it on her, getting her waist length hair all tucked up into a short pixie cut wig. The wig caused quite a stir around McCarty (that's what our barracks are called) when she showed up with it. I tried to be cordial but all I could think was that her new friends that she had left with must have been quite an influence to encourage her to chop all her hair off and dye it a dark red. Anyway, I digress.
It's the end of our winter season. The last day is two days from now. I get in my vehicle and drive west 3 days from now. 6 days from now I will be arriving at my home, unloading all my junk and sitting down in my own house and sleeping in my own bed. I have not seen home since the end of December.
We just got back from an uber long roll in Florida. We did a 14 day stint, took two days off (we call it R&R in place) in Jacksonville, FL and then went right back in to some fires and worked another 19 or 20 days (I didn't count during that second round). So overall we spent more than 34 days away from home on that roll. It's our last week and we're no longer available, we're working on all our close-out stuff. So Crystal and I have decided to do a couple more fancy dinners before we head home.
I'm not sure what all I've said about Crystal, but she's actually off my home unit (my same forest) and lives about a half hour from me. I met her once before we came out here, but I've reluctantly agreed to continue our friendship when we come back home. Just kidding, she's actually a fairly decent person to hang out with.
So last night we went to Que Sera here in Black Mountain. Our favorite place I think, although it's in close competition with The Blackbird, which is where we ate tonight. With an appetizer, an entre, a dessert and a drink or two, we're looking at about $50 per person. It's been fantastic. I think that's the only thing I'm going to miss about this place.
I've also decided to take up photography, digital to be exact. With a digital SLR camera. I decided with the investment that I'll be making, to research the cameras and photography first (hello Photography with Digital SLR's for Dummies) and then buy the camera. So I've got it narrowed down to about 5 cameras. I just have to decide how much I'm really allowed to pay for these things. I mean, I do have a mortgage and all. I have to start making adult decisions someday.
Crystal is packing her things while I sit here and write. Yesterday we had a competition going about whose room was more a disaster. She may have won but I believe it was because I was not quitting until my room had some sort of order to it. We had to empty out all our gear, which is 4 bags of stuff: line gear, hotel bag, briefcase and black bag (black bag has camping stuff and extra clothes...and of course is usually black). We turned in the bags, so I had to transfer it all into my bags for home: red bag (it's red and contains extra clothes), black bag (it's black and contains a sleeping bag, tarp to lay on, pajamas, underwear and baby wipes), line gear and a back pack. The problem is, the layout of our off time is different between the crew here and the crew at home. Here we stay in hotels (due to weather and insect/animal issues) whereas at home we usually sleep on the ground with the exception of a couple nights stay in hotels when we're travelling to and from fires. So bags need to be packed differently. Our line gear (what we carry on the fireline) is basically the same.
So we had to completely empty out all our bags and compiled with the huge load of laundry I had spread out on my bed, it was a disaster. What was worse was trying to remember how I packed my gear at home, as I moved stuff into my home bags. I'm a little worried because I keep finding things that I forgot to pack in my red bag or black bag. I'd hate to find out the hard way that I've forgotten something.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
On Sabbatical
After yet another night of being awakened by drunk people, I've checked myself into a fairly decent hotel to get some sleep. The funny thing was, a good majority of the people on my crew felt that I should not have to spend money on a hotel to get some sleep and that it was my home too and I should be able to sleep just fine at home. Their chivalry did not make it to 1:45am. Once again, the giggling and the cooking started, but this time it was accentuated with several people saying "sshhhhh!". I gave up.
After breakfast I went back to my room and went on hotels.com to find a hotel that didn't cost too much, but also had amazingly comfortable beds. I decided on the Country Inns and Suites. You know if they have big heavy down comforters then the bed is comfortable too. They've got an indoor pool and jacuzzi and a fitness center. The staff is very friendly.
Years ago when I couldn't sleep, I didn't fight it too much. I simply got out of bed and found something else to do. And if I got tired during the day, I'd just drink more coffee. I found a book for my kindle called Restful Insomnia that didn't promise to solve my sleep problems, but would make me feel rested despite not sleeping. I put it on my wishlist and basically forgot about it. Every night that I didn't sleep I would think about it.
Yesterday I checked in to my hotel completely exhausted. I had an overwhelming need to fall asleep and instead of getting coffee, I waited until it was time to check in, closed the black out curtains and got into bed. I snuggled into the down pillows and concentrated on sleep. After about 20-30 minutes, I began to fade off. Then my arm jerked and shot out from underneath my pillow and into the empty room. Damn it. Ok, I thought. No big deal. I'll try again.
I closed my eyes, tried to focus on nothing at all and let my eyes soften into my skull. Another 15 minutes later I was drifting off into sleep and the hotel phone next to my bed rang and jerked me out of sleep yet again. Are you kidding me? Who on earth knows I'm here?! I picked up the phone and it was the guy down at the front desk wanting to know if everything was acceptable in my room. Jeezo.
After a brief conversation, I hung up the phone and tried to go back to sleep. I wasn't laying there long before I decided it wasn't going to happen. So I got up and made a cup of coffee and watched a terrible love story (Something Borrowed...I don't recommend it) before going out to meet some of my crew for dinner at Frankie Bones.
My sleep last night was a little broken, but every time I woke up, I fell back to sleep. No one woke me up at 2am, I wasn't josteled awake by heater noises and the bed didn't creak and squeak every time I moved. My hand towel in the bathroom is also shaped like a swan.
I have to check out by 11am, which is a bummer. I'm definately over living with 16 other people (we lost one to injury, it used to be 17 other people). I miss having my own home with a comfortable bed and a more quiet means of heating the house. The heater in my room sounds like a diesel truck starting up every 10 minutes or so.
Oh yeah, so after the front desk guy woke me up yesterday I decided to purchase the book Restful Insomnia. I'm a quarter of the way through it and not totally convinced that this lady can teach me how insomnia is actually a blessing. I guess we'll see.
After breakfast I went back to my room and went on hotels.com to find a hotel that didn't cost too much, but also had amazingly comfortable beds. I decided on the Country Inns and Suites. You know if they have big heavy down comforters then the bed is comfortable too. They've got an indoor pool and jacuzzi and a fitness center. The staff is very friendly.
Years ago when I couldn't sleep, I didn't fight it too much. I simply got out of bed and found something else to do. And if I got tired during the day, I'd just drink more coffee. I found a book for my kindle called Restful Insomnia that didn't promise to solve my sleep problems, but would make me feel rested despite not sleeping. I put it on my wishlist and basically forgot about it. Every night that I didn't sleep I would think about it.
Yesterday I checked in to my hotel completely exhausted. I had an overwhelming need to fall asleep and instead of getting coffee, I waited until it was time to check in, closed the black out curtains and got into bed. I snuggled into the down pillows and concentrated on sleep. After about 20-30 minutes, I began to fade off. Then my arm jerked and shot out from underneath my pillow and into the empty room. Damn it. Ok, I thought. No big deal. I'll try again.
I closed my eyes, tried to focus on nothing at all and let my eyes soften into my skull. Another 15 minutes later I was drifting off into sleep and the hotel phone next to my bed rang and jerked me out of sleep yet again. Are you kidding me? Who on earth knows I'm here?! I picked up the phone and it was the guy down at the front desk wanting to know if everything was acceptable in my room. Jeezo.
After a brief conversation, I hung up the phone and tried to go back to sleep. I wasn't laying there long before I decided it wasn't going to happen. So I got up and made a cup of coffee and watched a terrible love story (Something Borrowed...I don't recommend it) before going out to meet some of my crew for dinner at Frankie Bones.
My sleep last night was a little broken, but every time I woke up, I fell back to sleep. No one woke me up at 2am, I wasn't josteled awake by heater noises and the bed didn't creak and squeak every time I moved. My hand towel in the bathroom is also shaped like a swan.
I have to check out by 11am, which is a bummer. I'm definately over living with 16 other people (we lost one to injury, it used to be 17 other people). I miss having my own home with a comfortable bed and a more quiet means of heating the house. The heater in my room sounds like a diesel truck starting up every 10 minutes or so.
Oh yeah, so after the front desk guy woke me up yesterday I decided to purchase the book Restful Insomnia. I'm a quarter of the way through it and not totally convinced that this lady can teach me how insomnia is actually a blessing. I guess we'll see.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
2am
It's 2 in the morning on Sunday and I've been awakened by a crowd of I'd say about 4-5 drunk people by the sound of it. My bedroom shares a wall with the kitchen which is a popular hangout for those returning home from the bars. The walls are very thin and the kitchen has a way of bringing out the echo in every little sound, especially if no one is trying to be quiet, everything is funny (as is often the case with drunk people) and some one is trying to cook.
The night before, a wave of people came in at 11:45 pm and proceeded to have an argument over how to run the extremely loud dishwasher, so they kept slamming down the industrial crank, letting it run it's 5 min cycle and then running it again. On the third slam (accentuated by very loud laughing) I decided it was enough. I went into the kitchen and very tactfully declared that people (ok, maybe just me) were trying to sleep. Shortly after, it became quiet and I lay awake until about 2am trying to coax myself back to sleep.
I discussed the situation with a few of the members of the late night party, which is much easier to do when they're sober the next day, however, it doesn't stick with them through the next night after too many drinks. At 1:30am, a group came in and headed directly into the kitchen. One girl tried to boil water but had to pee. After returning, there was plenty of banging around, laughing and talking. I banged on the wall a few times, heard my name mentioned (because even in their drunken state they remembered that there I was, on the other side of the wall, trying desperately to get just one night of quality sleep) followed by laughing and someone saying "ssshhhhhhh!". The cooking, talking and laughing continued. I knocked again. Again the "sshhhhh". A couple minutes later everyone dispersed with the exception of the girl trying to boil water. I lay awake and wished it was 5am so I could get up and start my day and say the hell with any attempt to get back to sleep.
We had our first roll of the season these last 2 weeks and by now I'm pretty sure the whole crew knows that I have insomnia. It was the talk of the assignment. When on the road, we share hotel (yes, hotels...no sleeping on the ground when it's 15 degrees outside) rooms. My roommate did not get the whole gist of it until a couple weeks ago when we snuggled into bed and had "the talk". She already knew that my sleep was often disrupted, I went to bed early and got up early. I'm fortunate to have such an understanding roommate, and a crew that is dry on assignments.
When I snuck around in the dark room at 5am, when our alarms were set for six, she would wake up and tell me to just turn on a light. I'm sure she didn't really mind, but I didn't want to be one of those people that deprived others of sleep. When I was wide awake at 3:30am, I certainly was not going to be that person. I learned to lay out my clothes and key card so I could sneak downstairs at 4am for a cup of coffee and to gather intel on the internet. She finally started setting her alarm for 5am because she knew I'd be up moving around by then.
One morning, I sat up in bed drinking a cup of coffee and heard her alarm go off. It was 5am. She turned it off and lay awake until the second alarm went off, a few minutes later. I asked if she was ready for the light. She turned it on and was shocked to see me sitting up drinking a cup of coffee. She later discussed it with my bathroom mate from back in Black Mountain who declared it "Creepy". It became the joke of the roll that I sat awake in the dark and watched my roommate sleep, perched up like a gargoyle. Not incredibly accurate. It's dark in there, I can't see a whole lot of anything. I just listen to her breathe.
In any case, once everyone is drunk and we're back home and don't have to share rooms (actually some peole do which must suck), people forget that other people have fragile sleep and don't truly understand how that feels. I'm sure from their experience, if some one wakes them up, they just roll over and go back to sleep. If some one wakes me up, I'm up for at least a couple hours if not for the rest of the day. Well, at 1:30am, the rest of the day is a long one.
Now it's 2:30am, the house is quiet except for the occasional movement of furniture upstairs and my stomach is rumbling. I don't know what it wants, maybe some sleep, maybe some food. I can tell right now that sleep is a ways away and it makes me want to take a blanket out to the front porch and curl up in a rocking chair but it may be far too cold for that. I wish people could truly understand what I go through on most nights just to be able to function the next day. I took a nap yesterday which ate up a good portion of my day and today may end up the same. I can't wait until the work week when I can get a decent night's sleep.
The night before, a wave of people came in at 11:45 pm and proceeded to have an argument over how to run the extremely loud dishwasher, so they kept slamming down the industrial crank, letting it run it's 5 min cycle and then running it again. On the third slam (accentuated by very loud laughing) I decided it was enough. I went into the kitchen and very tactfully declared that people (ok, maybe just me) were trying to sleep. Shortly after, it became quiet and I lay awake until about 2am trying to coax myself back to sleep.
I discussed the situation with a few of the members of the late night party, which is much easier to do when they're sober the next day, however, it doesn't stick with them through the next night after too many drinks. At 1:30am, a group came in and headed directly into the kitchen. One girl tried to boil water but had to pee. After returning, there was plenty of banging around, laughing and talking. I banged on the wall a few times, heard my name mentioned (because even in their drunken state they remembered that there I was, on the other side of the wall, trying desperately to get just one night of quality sleep) followed by laughing and someone saying "ssshhhhhhh!". The cooking, talking and laughing continued. I knocked again. Again the "sshhhhh". A couple minutes later everyone dispersed with the exception of the girl trying to boil water. I lay awake and wished it was 5am so I could get up and start my day and say the hell with any attempt to get back to sleep.
We had our first roll of the season these last 2 weeks and by now I'm pretty sure the whole crew knows that I have insomnia. It was the talk of the assignment. When on the road, we share hotel (yes, hotels...no sleeping on the ground when it's 15 degrees outside) rooms. My roommate did not get the whole gist of it until a couple weeks ago when we snuggled into bed and had "the talk". She already knew that my sleep was often disrupted, I went to bed early and got up early. I'm fortunate to have such an understanding roommate, and a crew that is dry on assignments.
When I snuck around in the dark room at 5am, when our alarms were set for six, she would wake up and tell me to just turn on a light. I'm sure she didn't really mind, but I didn't want to be one of those people that deprived others of sleep. When I was wide awake at 3:30am, I certainly was not going to be that person. I learned to lay out my clothes and key card so I could sneak downstairs at 4am for a cup of coffee and to gather intel on the internet. She finally started setting her alarm for 5am because she knew I'd be up moving around by then.
One morning, I sat up in bed drinking a cup of coffee and heard her alarm go off. It was 5am. She turned it off and lay awake until the second alarm went off, a few minutes later. I asked if she was ready for the light. She turned it on and was shocked to see me sitting up drinking a cup of coffee. She later discussed it with my bathroom mate from back in Black Mountain who declared it "Creepy". It became the joke of the roll that I sat awake in the dark and watched my roommate sleep, perched up like a gargoyle. Not incredibly accurate. It's dark in there, I can't see a whole lot of anything. I just listen to her breathe.
In any case, once everyone is drunk and we're back home and don't have to share rooms (actually some peole do which must suck), people forget that other people have fragile sleep and don't truly understand how that feels. I'm sure from their experience, if some one wakes them up, they just roll over and go back to sleep. If some one wakes me up, I'm up for at least a couple hours if not for the rest of the day. Well, at 1:30am, the rest of the day is a long one.
Now it's 2:30am, the house is quiet except for the occasional movement of furniture upstairs and my stomach is rumbling. I don't know what it wants, maybe some sleep, maybe some food. I can tell right now that sleep is a ways away and it makes me want to take a blanket out to the front porch and curl up in a rocking chair but it may be far too cold for that. I wish people could truly understand what I go through on most nights just to be able to function the next day. I took a nap yesterday which ate up a good portion of my day and today may end up the same. I can't wait until the work week when I can get a decent night's sleep.
Friday, February 3, 2012
First Assignment for the Winter Season
Well it's Friday night and in a house of 18 people (yep, I live with 17 other people) I'm the only one home. Yes, I've always been this lame, but tonight is a special night. I just got the crew turned over to me as I am the first one to go in the round of crew boss assignments. I'm now in charge of the entire crew and we just received an order to head out to the Croatan National Forest on the east coast of North Carolina. Right now the order is to help out with prescribed burning, but this time of year is also their fire season, so we will be there to help out if fires break out. However, we can also get called to fires anytime this weekend as well, which is one of the reasons I'm not joining in on the festivities.
We won't be leaving until Monday morning, but as always in this job, plans have a way of changing as soon as you think you've got them tied down. So tonight I'm working on gathering intel on the area and making sure I'm ready to go. I've made a list of questions for my supervisor, travel plans, finance code information, contact information, weather forecasts and things to remember while on assignment. In bold on top of my page reads "Food, shelter, and engaging work". That phrase sums up how to keep a hotshot happy. I've also got various notes and ideas scribbled on 4 seperate notepads and have attempted (in vain) to put them into one. I've made a list of things I need to accomplish this weekend before heading out, and things I need to buy. One of the more local guys dropped off his map depicting heli-spots on the forest, on his way out to the local Ale House. I've written down questions I intend to ask the guy in charge when we get to the Croatan.
For now I've put away all the maps, notes, the gps and my radio and will curl up in bed and continue reading "A Guide For Prescribed Fire in Southern Forests" which will hopefully enable me to better understand the assignment we're about to take on. Everything is different here. Fires burn differently, fuel (vegetation) types are different, soils are different, heck we even will see fire burn through swamps! What a sight that will be. Our crew structure is different, our vehicles are different. We travel in 6 pick-up trucks as opposed to the 2 buggies and 1 supt truck back home (and occasionally a chase truck but that may be going by the wayside). Our radio communications are slightly different. Oh, and they talk different. We don't say dinner down here, we say supper, and I was just fined another dollar tonight for saying "dinner".
Another major difference is that we'll spend more time in hotels than sleeping on the ground. This is new to me and it also presents new issues. Showers for example will be a new thing. Not that I've never showered before, I'm actually quite learned at the art of showering. However, showering on assignment is different. For example, we pack light, so my clothes will be dirty. But if I shower, I will be clean. And then I will put on dirty clothes in the morning. It's just unfathomable. But I can't just not shower because being in hotels, we will also be eating in restaurants and it is just not ok to be that dirty in public. It's different when you're just out in the woods and don't come across civilians for 14 days. I don't know, we'll see how that goes.
Staying in hotels also presents a sleep issue. For both myself and my roommate. Possibly more for my roommate. It's one thing to get up and roam around fire camp when you can't sleep, it's another to turn on a reading light in a hotel with your roommate right next to you who was sleeping. And it's harder to roam in a hotel at 2am. Less safe places to go.
Anyway, I could go on, but it's past my bedtime. Hopefully I will return with amazing news of my travels.
We won't be leaving until Monday morning, but as always in this job, plans have a way of changing as soon as you think you've got them tied down. So tonight I'm working on gathering intel on the area and making sure I'm ready to go. I've made a list of questions for my supervisor, travel plans, finance code information, contact information, weather forecasts and things to remember while on assignment. In bold on top of my page reads "Food, shelter, and engaging work". That phrase sums up how to keep a hotshot happy. I've also got various notes and ideas scribbled on 4 seperate notepads and have attempted (in vain) to put them into one. I've made a list of things I need to accomplish this weekend before heading out, and things I need to buy. One of the more local guys dropped off his map depicting heli-spots on the forest, on his way out to the local Ale House. I've written down questions I intend to ask the guy in charge when we get to the Croatan.
For now I've put away all the maps, notes, the gps and my radio and will curl up in bed and continue reading "A Guide For Prescribed Fire in Southern Forests" which will hopefully enable me to better understand the assignment we're about to take on. Everything is different here. Fires burn differently, fuel (vegetation) types are different, soils are different, heck we even will see fire burn through swamps! What a sight that will be. Our crew structure is different, our vehicles are different. We travel in 6 pick-up trucks as opposed to the 2 buggies and 1 supt truck back home (and occasionally a chase truck but that may be going by the wayside). Our radio communications are slightly different. Oh, and they talk different. We don't say dinner down here, we say supper, and I was just fined another dollar tonight for saying "dinner".
Another major difference is that we'll spend more time in hotels than sleeping on the ground. This is new to me and it also presents new issues. Showers for example will be a new thing. Not that I've never showered before, I'm actually quite learned at the art of showering. However, showering on assignment is different. For example, we pack light, so my clothes will be dirty. But if I shower, I will be clean. And then I will put on dirty clothes in the morning. It's just unfathomable. But I can't just not shower because being in hotels, we will also be eating in restaurants and it is just not ok to be that dirty in public. It's different when you're just out in the woods and don't come across civilians for 14 days. I don't know, we'll see how that goes.
Staying in hotels also presents a sleep issue. For both myself and my roommate. Possibly more for my roommate. It's one thing to get up and roam around fire camp when you can't sleep, it's another to turn on a reading light in a hotel with your roommate right next to you who was sleeping. And it's harder to roam in a hotel at 2am. Less safe places to go.
Anyway, I could go on, but it's past my bedtime. Hopefully I will return with amazing news of my travels.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
High Top
We don't get much hiking in during the week with the crew, so my toilet mate, Wendy, and I go on the weekends. A toilet mate is one you share a toilet with, but not a room. So not a roomate, but a toilet mate. Wendy and I hit it off right away when she dropped my toothbrush in the toilet and was kind enough to let me know about it right away. I've done meaner things. Actually the other day I flushed her hair tie down the toilet and it was quite hilarious. What that toilet needs is a lid.
Anyway, Wendy is a six foot tall hiking machine who can also throw a pretty good punch. I would say she inspires me to work out, but what she really does is sneak up on me when I'm laying on the couch with my kindle and hovers over me until I agree to go do some insane workout with her. Yesterday it was a run after my 4 hour nap. Little did she know I was hopped up on Sudafed, Mucinex, Tylenol and my inhaler. I sure showed her. But she dragged me out into the cold and the 20 mile per hour winds just as the sun was setting. By the way, I caught a gnarly cold from her. It's been going around on the crew since day one and it's still circulating.
Today we decided to try out the hike that the staff here at Blue Ridge recommended, High Top. We were getting bored with High Windy (they're really creative out here) and needed something a little steeper. A week or so ago, we were talking to the staff about the trails and they mentioned that high top was a good challenging one. Even mentioned there were a few "scrambles" in there. One thing I've noticed in this job is that the lay person's steep hike is usually nothing in comparison to what we deal with everyday. Your average discomfort is our leisure day. So we figured the hike would be challenging but no big deal.
Wendy hiked in front of me with a chainsaw on top of her shoulders. I carried a hoe (haha...yeah, lead hoe) but outside of that we both had gear weighing about 40 lbs on our backs. We laughed when we saw the sign at the beginning of the trail: Warning- Steep and dangerous rocks ahead. Use at your own risk. We were amused. We were less amused when the trail really did get steep and we were pulling on tree roots to pull us up and over the rock faces of the ridgeline. We agreed that it would be easier on the way back to hike the ridgeline out to High Windy and walk the less steep trail back. We scrambled over icy rock ledges and crawled over downed trees and fell into little holes covered innocently by bunches of leaves. We laughed because it really was not funny...but it was at the same time.
It was around this time that we A) wished we had brought a camera and B) wished we had told some one where we would be hiking so that they would know where to look when we didn't make it home. That just made it funnier. If you can't laugh at yourself, what can you laugh at?
After crawling and climbing for an hour, we made it to the top. The views were magnificent and there was a nice flat spot on top to sit in the sun. It was freezing by the way, but at least the sun felt nice. We decided it was finally time to head over to High Windy and make our way down. I fell in behind Wendy and didn't think much of the curse words that came out of her mouth when we rounded the corner. After our climb up, we could handle anything. I walked around her and looked out towards High Windy and got it right away. We would have to hike way down into the valley and then way back up the next mountain just to get to where we could start our descent back towards home.
It was then that I felt a severe loss of hope. Either way was going to be long and painful, but neither of us could fathom heading in an upward direction again. The only other choice was to scurry down the steep rocky slope that we came up. I suggested we use our radios to call for a helicopter. Wendy said we could tell them they could either pick up two healthy girls at the top or two broken girls at the bottom. We laughed, trying to cover up the foreboding we both felt as we walked towards the trail back down High Top. The wind howled around us as we carefully shuffled down rock cliffs and trails of tree roots. At one point Wendy had a cliffhanger moment where she clung to a rock with one hand, the chainsaw with the other and tried desperately to figure out a way down. I offered to hold the saw while she descended but she would have none of it. The few moments that followed made me really wish I had my camera. She made it down just fine and I tossed my tool down ahead of me and shimmied down the rock.
After falling into the leave holes a few times, lowering ourselves down the rocks by tree branches and roots, we began to feel like we may make it down safely. I joked about how she was going to make us do the same thing next weekend. She said no way, the trail was way too sketchy. So I agreed, then said "So when you make us do this next weekend you're going to suggest we go without saws and tools so that we could have our hands free." She laughed and said no, we weren't going to do this next weekend. I said "So when we do, what do you owe me?" We agreed on a beer.
We just went out to Indian food where I talked the waiter through how to make me a hot whiskey and discussed the hike (rock climb) with one of the girls who missed out. Wendy said "It wasn't really that bad" and that's when I knew. We're totally doing this next weekend.
Anyway, Wendy is a six foot tall hiking machine who can also throw a pretty good punch. I would say she inspires me to work out, but what she really does is sneak up on me when I'm laying on the couch with my kindle and hovers over me until I agree to go do some insane workout with her. Yesterday it was a run after my 4 hour nap. Little did she know I was hopped up on Sudafed, Mucinex, Tylenol and my inhaler. I sure showed her. But she dragged me out into the cold and the 20 mile per hour winds just as the sun was setting. By the way, I caught a gnarly cold from her. It's been going around on the crew since day one and it's still circulating.
Today we decided to try out the hike that the staff here at Blue Ridge recommended, High Top. We were getting bored with High Windy (they're really creative out here) and needed something a little steeper. A week or so ago, we were talking to the staff about the trails and they mentioned that high top was a good challenging one. Even mentioned there were a few "scrambles" in there. One thing I've noticed in this job is that the lay person's steep hike is usually nothing in comparison to what we deal with everyday. Your average discomfort is our leisure day. So we figured the hike would be challenging but no big deal.
Wendy hiked in front of me with a chainsaw on top of her shoulders. I carried a hoe (haha...yeah, lead hoe) but outside of that we both had gear weighing about 40 lbs on our backs. We laughed when we saw the sign at the beginning of the trail: Warning- Steep and dangerous rocks ahead. Use at your own risk. We were amused. We were less amused when the trail really did get steep and we were pulling on tree roots to pull us up and over the rock faces of the ridgeline. We agreed that it would be easier on the way back to hike the ridgeline out to High Windy and walk the less steep trail back. We scrambled over icy rock ledges and crawled over downed trees and fell into little holes covered innocently by bunches of leaves. We laughed because it really was not funny...but it was at the same time.
It was around this time that we A) wished we had brought a camera and B) wished we had told some one where we would be hiking so that they would know where to look when we didn't make it home. That just made it funnier. If you can't laugh at yourself, what can you laugh at?
After crawling and climbing for an hour, we made it to the top. The views were magnificent and there was a nice flat spot on top to sit in the sun. It was freezing by the way, but at least the sun felt nice. We decided it was finally time to head over to High Windy and make our way down. I fell in behind Wendy and didn't think much of the curse words that came out of her mouth when we rounded the corner. After our climb up, we could handle anything. I walked around her and looked out towards High Windy and got it right away. We would have to hike way down into the valley and then way back up the next mountain just to get to where we could start our descent back towards home.
It was then that I felt a severe loss of hope. Either way was going to be long and painful, but neither of us could fathom heading in an upward direction again. The only other choice was to scurry down the steep rocky slope that we came up. I suggested we use our radios to call for a helicopter. Wendy said we could tell them they could either pick up two healthy girls at the top or two broken girls at the bottom. We laughed, trying to cover up the foreboding we both felt as we walked towards the trail back down High Top. The wind howled around us as we carefully shuffled down rock cliffs and trails of tree roots. At one point Wendy had a cliffhanger moment where she clung to a rock with one hand, the chainsaw with the other and tried desperately to figure out a way down. I offered to hold the saw while she descended but she would have none of it. The few moments that followed made me really wish I had my camera. She made it down just fine and I tossed my tool down ahead of me and shimmied down the rock.
After falling into the leave holes a few times, lowering ourselves down the rocks by tree branches and roots, we began to feel like we may make it down safely. I joked about how she was going to make us do the same thing next weekend. She said no way, the trail was way too sketchy. So I agreed, then said "So when you make us do this next weekend you're going to suggest we go without saws and tools so that we could have our hands free." She laughed and said no, we weren't going to do this next weekend. I said "So when we do, what do you owe me?" We agreed on a beer.
We just went out to Indian food where I talked the waiter through how to make me a hot whiskey and discussed the hike (rock climb) with one of the girls who missed out. Wendy said "It wasn't really that bad" and that's when I knew. We're totally doing this next weekend.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Black Mountain, NC
It's a snow day here in North Carolina so I decided it would be a good time to update everyone. I survived my first week with the new crew: living, working and eating together. That's a lot of time together, in case you didn't know. I have my own room, which is nice, and share a bathroom with one other girl.
The food is pretty good. They feed us breakfast, lunch and supper (they don't say dinner here) most days. We're at the YMCA Blue Ridge Assembly which is situated in the Blue Ridge Mountains of the Appalachians. The food is also local faire...sweet tea, biscuts and gravy and breaded and fried fish. They do serve salads though.
It's pretty here, with lots of big rivers and mountains all around us. I look forward to riding my road bike around and going for trail runs, but the cold and the snow have me sitting inside wanting to take a nap. Of course I'm one of the very few early risers on the crew. Breakfast this morning was at 0730 and there was only two of us. A big group went out on the town last night. I do plan on heading to a yoga class at 3pm today.
The food is pretty good. They feed us breakfast, lunch and supper (they don't say dinner here) most days. We're at the YMCA Blue Ridge Assembly which is situated in the Blue Ridge Mountains of the Appalachians. The food is also local faire...sweet tea, biscuts and gravy and breaded and fried fish. They do serve salads though.
It's pretty here, with lots of big rivers and mountains all around us. I look forward to riding my road bike around and going for trail runs, but the cold and the snow have me sitting inside wanting to take a nap. Of course I'm one of the very few early risers on the crew. Breakfast this morning was at 0730 and there was only two of us. A big group went out on the town last night. I do plan on heading to a yoga class at 3pm today.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Road Coffee
After reading about "upside down" coffee in Israel, I declared to Candace that I would go there next winter to try it out for myself...and maybe coffee in Turkey because it's supposed to be really good. She suggested I write about my experiences with coffee around the world, and said people would read it. I got to thinking about it, and it sounded like a great idea, full of warmth and discovery, of new worlds and new beans....
This is not that story. This is a story of a long road filled with desperation and disappointment. Road coffee. Or coffee on the road. I'm not talking about your commute to work kind of coffee. Chances are if you find yourself stuck in traffic on your way to work without a good cup of coffee, it was because you were ill prepared and I can't sympathize with that. This is a story about a cross country road trip and one woman's desperate search for a decent cup of java (mine actually).
I just finished my drive from San Diego to Black Mountain, North Carolina and it took 4 days of driving for 10 hours at a time. I'm no coffee snob and will drink almost anything as long as it's caffeinated. I'm not however, a fan of energy drinks. Just give me good ol' coffee. I've drank the worst mud and the lightest tea-like coffee from so many places. I've dumped instant coffee in my mouth and taken a swig from a canteen of water. I can handle some pretty bad coffee, but only for so long.
After two whole days of drinking coffee from Love's and Shell, I was driving down highway 40 in the middle of Arkansas when I started thinking about the coffee I had in Ireland. Actually, there's this one cup in particular that was on my mind. There's a cafe at the Chester Beaty Museum at the Dublin Castle that had an amazing cup of coffee. I asked the chef behind the counter what brand of coffee they use. He gave me a funny look and said he roasts his own. Hmm. Was that a dumb question? Do all little cafes roast their own coffee? I don't know, in any case, he didn't sell it except for in a cup, hot and wonderful.
I also noticed that most places in Ireland did not drip brew. They would make coffee "Americano" style- an espresso with hot water added. No, coffee is not just watered down espresso. Watered down espresso is an Americano and it is entirely different than coffee. But I won't get into that. So I got to thinking that if I found a Starbucks at one of the little towns (har har har) then I could order an Americano and it should be something like what I had in Ireland, which would be fantastic next to all the gas station coffees I had consumed.
Ok, I'm not really all that enthralled with Starbucks. Don't get me wrong, Starbucks is a rock solid standby in the event that you can't find a nice little cafe that roasts their own coffee and has a name no one has ever heard of. But of course you're not going to find a Starbucks in most small Arkansas towns.
I found a small town called Clarksville that had several gas stations, a walmart and a McDonald's. They would surely have their own coffee shop. I drove past the gas stations and up the hill into town, scanning left and right while trying not to piss off the drivers behind me. I'm an excellent scanner when I know what to look for. It must come from years of speed reading. On my left I spotted a sign in a small strip mall: "Julie's Perk". What else could "Julie's Perk" mean beside a coffee shop? Don't go there. So I took a hard left in front of an oncoming van and into the parking lot.
I peeked in the window and it looked like a gift shop, but the sign said it sold gourmet coffee. When I went inside I was instantly greeted by a man with a very heavy southern accent asking if I was looking for something in particular. Just as I started to ask if they sold coffee, I noticed a small cup in his hand.
"Where did you get that? You sell brewed coffee?"
"Oh, well no. We have samples though if you'd like to try some."
I asked if there was a place in town that sells "made" coffee that doesn't come from a gas station. He said there used to be one across the street from the church but they closed down.
So I tried a sample of cinnamon coffee, which was way too cinnamon-y but it got me thinking. I had brought along my french press and could make coffee in my car...but where would I get the hot water? I could go to McDonald's and ask for a cup of hot water...or wait...I have a Jet Boil (if you don't know what that is, I can't help you) in my car, and about half a bottle of water...jeez, this was getting ridiculous. I decided to look at what they had anyway.
I chose a half pound of Mudslide and a half pound of double chocolate fudge. As I was checking out, he said "You come back if that tickles your fancy", and I wondered how far back in time I had traveled. I got back in my car and started thinking about how to make coffee with what I had. I was fairly certain my Jet Boil was in my flight bag which was buried underneath all my clothes. This was becoming far too much work, so I pulled into McDonalds and got a horrible mocha worth over a thousand calories.
As I approached the next town, I saw an ad for a hotel that read: "Turn left at the Starbucks". Ugh.
Further into Arkansas, a billboard along the freeway stated that you must use the rod on your children so they may be saved. It went on to read that you must be reborn of the body and the spirit. I wasn't in California anymore.
Then thinking back to my own childhood, it occurred to me that somewhere back in those woods in an old rickety house, a small child was getting beat with a piece of lumber in order to save his soul. I imagined the fear he was feeling on a daily basis and how he'd grow up to be a drug user, spouse abuser and in jail. This isn't your typical spank-your-children religion. This is a crazy, scary, hurt people if you think they're disobeying God sort of religion. I suddenly felt very unsafe. I've seen enough movies to think the cops in the town were all of the same belief anyway and if I got a flat on the side of the road it would probably be my last. I couldn't wait to get out of Arkansas. There is a very ugly side to religion that I would rather not come in contact with out on the road by myself.
As I crossed into Tennessee, it was getting dark and I could just see the towering buildings of Memphis. I needed gas, had to pee and was hungry. I decided Memphis would be a perfect stop. I really didn't think that one through. It was rush hour. I got off, got my gas, peed and got Subway...then tried to find the freeway on-ramp. In the dark. Man, signs are crappy in some parts of the country.
I finally figured it out, being they savvy city slicker I am, and landed myself in stop and go traffic. No big deal, at least I was on the right freeway. As one highway merged into the other, some one got on my butt close enough to kiss my bike that was attached to my spare tire. Everyone was merging, I was in the center lane with nowhere to go, driving about 45 miles per hour with some jerk just inches from my bumper. I slowed down to increase my distance from the person in front of me in case traffic stopped suddenly, which caused the guy behind me to lay on his horn and try to get around me, but there was no moving. No one was going anywhere other than with the flow. This caused me to have a road rage break down like I have not had in years. I began screaming profanities and flashed my brights at him as soon as he did get around me. Ugh...it pisses me off just thinking about it. But I figured, oh well, there he goes. You can't get all riled up with one bad driver.
Except they were all that bad. Mind you, we were now going the speed limit:70. And I was going about 72/73ish. People would get right up onto my bumper...and I mean right up in there. Los Angeles, move over, you've got some competition. So they'd get right up on me, pass and then get directly in front of me. Not more than 20ft in front of me. When there was an entire freeway with nobody there but us. This continued until I finally made it to Dickson...170 miles away. By the time I got to Dickson, my nerves were shot.
This morning began a new day out on the road (still in Tennessee unfortunately, home to the worse drivers in the world). Somewhere outside of Nashville I saw a billboard for Dueling Lumberjacks. Some sort of dinner-show. I kind of chuckled and wondered what sort of people went to see that. If I went, would I be entertained? I let the vision play in my head of two dueling lumberjacks, competing by cutting down small trees...and I realized it was my crew! I laughed out loud. People would pay good money to watch some hairy sweaty men see who can cut down a tree with the least amount of swings, and I see that all the time on fires when the guys get bored (I know you all were envisioning us working hard day in and day out with a raging fire chasing us up the hill. If you only knew...).
I was determined to find a Starbucks. There's no way there wasn't a Starbucks in the entire state of Tennessee. I was betting on Knoxville. But before I even got there, there it was! Like a beacon in the night! Except that it was daytime. A Starbucks sign (cue singing angels). I went inside with my awesome cloth sleeve (for coffee cups) that Debbie bought me (thank you Debbie!! I love it!) and ordered up a grande Americano, got back in my car, gassed up and took off. It was so disappointing. It was nothing like I had in Ireland. Totally lame. I tried that once when I came home from Italy. I had espresso at every coffee place I could find and none measured up. Just goes to show you.
As I drove up through the Smoky Mountains, I saw signs on the side of the road that read "Accident Investigation Site Ahead". What the hell? Looked like road workers, but jeez.
I finally made it to Black Mountain and went for a walk through the cute town. It's filled with shops (a couple coffee shops too!) and restaurants, very touristy. As I sat eating dinner in a Mexican Restaurant, I listened to a small group of people talking a couple tables over from me. I looked over and saw two guys and a girl who looked very much like putzes...ok, that was judgemental, but follow my train of thought here. It occurred to me that they could be from my new crew. I suddenly got that dreaded feeling of "What the hell was I thinking?" Here I am again in a strange town with strange people I may not like or get along with. Really Carrie? Ah jeez. But it's only 5 or 6 months and then I head back home to Montague. I feel like such a feather in the wind....har har.
Hopefully this town has a good cup o' java.
This is not that story. This is a story of a long road filled with desperation and disappointment. Road coffee. Or coffee on the road. I'm not talking about your commute to work kind of coffee. Chances are if you find yourself stuck in traffic on your way to work without a good cup of coffee, it was because you were ill prepared and I can't sympathize with that. This is a story about a cross country road trip and one woman's desperate search for a decent cup of java (mine actually).
I just finished my drive from San Diego to Black Mountain, North Carolina and it took 4 days of driving for 10 hours at a time. I'm no coffee snob and will drink almost anything as long as it's caffeinated. I'm not however, a fan of energy drinks. Just give me good ol' coffee. I've drank the worst mud and the lightest tea-like coffee from so many places. I've dumped instant coffee in my mouth and taken a swig from a canteen of water. I can handle some pretty bad coffee, but only for so long.
After two whole days of drinking coffee from Love's and Shell, I was driving down highway 40 in the middle of Arkansas when I started thinking about the coffee I had in Ireland. Actually, there's this one cup in particular that was on my mind. There's a cafe at the Chester Beaty Museum at the Dublin Castle that had an amazing cup of coffee. I asked the chef behind the counter what brand of coffee they use. He gave me a funny look and said he roasts his own. Hmm. Was that a dumb question? Do all little cafes roast their own coffee? I don't know, in any case, he didn't sell it except for in a cup, hot and wonderful.
I also noticed that most places in Ireland did not drip brew. They would make coffee "Americano" style- an espresso with hot water added. No, coffee is not just watered down espresso. Watered down espresso is an Americano and it is entirely different than coffee. But I won't get into that. So I got to thinking that if I found a Starbucks at one of the little towns (har har har) then I could order an Americano and it should be something like what I had in Ireland, which would be fantastic next to all the gas station coffees I had consumed.
Ok, I'm not really all that enthralled with Starbucks. Don't get me wrong, Starbucks is a rock solid standby in the event that you can't find a nice little cafe that roasts their own coffee and has a name no one has ever heard of. But of course you're not going to find a Starbucks in most small Arkansas towns.
I found a small town called Clarksville that had several gas stations, a walmart and a McDonald's. They would surely have their own coffee shop. I drove past the gas stations and up the hill into town, scanning left and right while trying not to piss off the drivers behind me. I'm an excellent scanner when I know what to look for. It must come from years of speed reading. On my left I spotted a sign in a small strip mall: "Julie's Perk". What else could "Julie's Perk" mean beside a coffee shop? Don't go there. So I took a hard left in front of an oncoming van and into the parking lot.
I peeked in the window and it looked like a gift shop, but the sign said it sold gourmet coffee. When I went inside I was instantly greeted by a man with a very heavy southern accent asking if I was looking for something in particular. Just as I started to ask if they sold coffee, I noticed a small cup in his hand.
"Where did you get that? You sell brewed coffee?"
"Oh, well no. We have samples though if you'd like to try some."
I asked if there was a place in town that sells "made" coffee that doesn't come from a gas station. He said there used to be one across the street from the church but they closed down.
So I tried a sample of cinnamon coffee, which was way too cinnamon-y but it got me thinking. I had brought along my french press and could make coffee in my car...but where would I get the hot water? I could go to McDonald's and ask for a cup of hot water...or wait...I have a Jet Boil (if you don't know what that is, I can't help you) in my car, and about half a bottle of water...jeez, this was getting ridiculous. I decided to look at what they had anyway.
I chose a half pound of Mudslide and a half pound of double chocolate fudge. As I was checking out, he said "You come back if that tickles your fancy", and I wondered how far back in time I had traveled. I got back in my car and started thinking about how to make coffee with what I had. I was fairly certain my Jet Boil was in my flight bag which was buried underneath all my clothes. This was becoming far too much work, so I pulled into McDonalds and got a horrible mocha worth over a thousand calories.
As I approached the next town, I saw an ad for a hotel that read: "Turn left at the Starbucks". Ugh.
Further into Arkansas, a billboard along the freeway stated that you must use the rod on your children so they may be saved. It went on to read that you must be reborn of the body and the spirit. I wasn't in California anymore.
Then thinking back to my own childhood, it occurred to me that somewhere back in those woods in an old rickety house, a small child was getting beat with a piece of lumber in order to save his soul. I imagined the fear he was feeling on a daily basis and how he'd grow up to be a drug user, spouse abuser and in jail. This isn't your typical spank-your-children religion. This is a crazy, scary, hurt people if you think they're disobeying God sort of religion. I suddenly felt very unsafe. I've seen enough movies to think the cops in the town were all of the same belief anyway and if I got a flat on the side of the road it would probably be my last. I couldn't wait to get out of Arkansas. There is a very ugly side to religion that I would rather not come in contact with out on the road by myself.
As I crossed into Tennessee, it was getting dark and I could just see the towering buildings of Memphis. I needed gas, had to pee and was hungry. I decided Memphis would be a perfect stop. I really didn't think that one through. It was rush hour. I got off, got my gas, peed and got Subway...then tried to find the freeway on-ramp. In the dark. Man, signs are crappy in some parts of the country.
I finally figured it out, being they savvy city slicker I am, and landed myself in stop and go traffic. No big deal, at least I was on the right freeway. As one highway merged into the other, some one got on my butt close enough to kiss my bike that was attached to my spare tire. Everyone was merging, I was in the center lane with nowhere to go, driving about 45 miles per hour with some jerk just inches from my bumper. I slowed down to increase my distance from the person in front of me in case traffic stopped suddenly, which caused the guy behind me to lay on his horn and try to get around me, but there was no moving. No one was going anywhere other than with the flow. This caused me to have a road rage break down like I have not had in years. I began screaming profanities and flashed my brights at him as soon as he did get around me. Ugh...it pisses me off just thinking about it. But I figured, oh well, there he goes. You can't get all riled up with one bad driver.
Except they were all that bad. Mind you, we were now going the speed limit:70. And I was going about 72/73ish. People would get right up onto my bumper...and I mean right up in there. Los Angeles, move over, you've got some competition. So they'd get right up on me, pass and then get directly in front of me. Not more than 20ft in front of me. When there was an entire freeway with nobody there but us. This continued until I finally made it to Dickson...170 miles away. By the time I got to Dickson, my nerves were shot.
This morning began a new day out on the road (still in Tennessee unfortunately, home to the worse drivers in the world). Somewhere outside of Nashville I saw a billboard for Dueling Lumberjacks. Some sort of dinner-show. I kind of chuckled and wondered what sort of people went to see that. If I went, would I be entertained? I let the vision play in my head of two dueling lumberjacks, competing by cutting down small trees...and I realized it was my crew! I laughed out loud. People would pay good money to watch some hairy sweaty men see who can cut down a tree with the least amount of swings, and I see that all the time on fires when the guys get bored (I know you all were envisioning us working hard day in and day out with a raging fire chasing us up the hill. If you only knew...).
I was determined to find a Starbucks. There's no way there wasn't a Starbucks in the entire state of Tennessee. I was betting on Knoxville. But before I even got there, there it was! Like a beacon in the night! Except that it was daytime. A Starbucks sign (cue singing angels). I went inside with my awesome cloth sleeve (for coffee cups) that Debbie bought me (thank you Debbie!! I love it!) and ordered up a grande Americano, got back in my car, gassed up and took off. It was so disappointing. It was nothing like I had in Ireland. Totally lame. I tried that once when I came home from Italy. I had espresso at every coffee place I could find and none measured up. Just goes to show you.
As I drove up through the Smoky Mountains, I saw signs on the side of the road that read "Accident Investigation Site Ahead". What the hell? Looked like road workers, but jeez.
I finally made it to Black Mountain and went for a walk through the cute town. It's filled with shops (a couple coffee shops too!) and restaurants, very touristy. As I sat eating dinner in a Mexican Restaurant, I listened to a small group of people talking a couple tables over from me. I looked over and saw two guys and a girl who looked very much like putzes...ok, that was judgemental, but follow my train of thought here. It occurred to me that they could be from my new crew. I suddenly got that dreaded feeling of "What the hell was I thinking?" Here I am again in a strange town with strange people I may not like or get along with. Really Carrie? Ah jeez. But it's only 5 or 6 months and then I head back home to Montague. I feel like such a feather in the wind....har har.
Hopefully this town has a good cup o' java.
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