From Texas, and LouisianaMississippiAlabamaTennesseeKentuckyWestVirginiaMaryland, to Virginia! - Pt 2 AlabamaTennesseeKentuckyWestVirginia

Last time we talked about the beginning of the trip - Louisiana and Mississippi, leaving off with Moss Point, MS on the Gulf Coast...

We crossed through Mobile (which has the COOLEST tunnel under their port.... or so I thought until I drove under Baltimore's bay in the COOLEST tunnel ever!) and headed up to Montgomery, or Birmingham (i don't remember) to crash for the night at a campground. This was back in the day when I needed showers and flush toilets and was willing to pay for them, like a CHUMP, at a private campground. Nowadays I am willing to forgo those niceties for a FREE campground :-).

The next day we headed up to Lynchburg, TN to visit the Jack Daniels Distillery. Neither R or myself is in to whiskey but why not visit anyway. The distillery is set in the hills and is a gorgeous ride... much like the Maker's Mark Distillery visit of my youth. It was a great way to be introduced to the Appalachians. After that stop, we continued north to visit Mammoth Cave National Park. On a previous road trip, R and I went to Carlsbad Caverns National Park, and we liked it so much, we decided to check out another one. This cave was very very different from Carlsbad. No huge rooms like "the Big Room", but with over 300 miles of underground riverway, there was plenty to explore.

We chose to hit a ranger-guided tour that involved a bus ride to a more remote part of the cave. There, in a wooded dirt parking lot, was a pad-locked metal doorway into the side of a small hill. Only slightly creepy. The guide warned us that there were over 100 metal steps to go down right at the beginning to get into the main chambers, and they were slippery. Slightly more creepy. He failed to mention the THOUSANDS of SPIDERS that were living at the entrance on the roof overhead, waiting for the door to open and admit the tiniest amount of light. Once they see the light, they begin to bounce. OMG way more creepy!
(If you need a refresher on my history with spiders.... here, and here.) And you can't run, NO, not with the slippery steps of death or the line of 30 people who all want to run with you. NO! I spent the whole walk down the steps alternatively pushing the old man in front of me and squealing "get them off of me!". In actuality, there were no spiders on me. It's a mind-fuck.

Once we got down to the bottom, everyone chilled out. The place was cool and damp, dark and long. Its not overly decorated like Carlsbad but it has some fantastic history. The locals used it as a tuberculosis ward back during the Civil War and up to the turn of the century. Awesome! Survive the spiders to die by TB...

We did survive, and drove on up to Louisville and headed west to West Virginia. In all honesty, I don't remember West Virginia on that trip.... sorry West Virginians. Here - interesting fact to make up for lack of being memorable - If you ironed West Virginia flat, it'd be larger than Texas.

Ok, moving on to Maryland and Baltimore next time!

*If you took nothing else away from this piece, remember to always ask if there will be spiders on your cave tours....

My Happy Place

Whenever I'm stressed, sad, bored, or lonely, I think of my happy place. We all have one. That special place in the world - real or imaginary - where everything is right.

My happy place is southeast Utah. I spent many months living in SE Utah, at both Capitol Reef & Canyonlands national parks. This isn't my happy place because I was happiest there. No, in fact sometimes I was downright miserable & making the best of a poor situation. However, SE Utah was always there to soothe me, refresh me, & rejuvenate my soul.

When I think of SE Utah, I remember the following:

- the redness of the Wingate sandstone against the white Navajo sandstone & impossibly blue skies
- breath-taking vistas as far as the eye can see of mostly unpopulated areas
- the smell of pinion pine ( my soul aches every time I smell a pinion tree)
- the sound wind makes as it soars across, through, beneath, & between the fantastic rock formations of the region
- the feel of the sun soaking into my sink, just as it soaks it the rocks I walk upon
- the indescribable feeling of being alone & completely at home in the Utah wilderness
- canyon wrens
- the ability to 4-wheel drive & camp across most of the area & rarely see another vehicle
- 8 national park areas within a days drive. Yes- EIGHT!
- The ever- constant feeling of walking in an ancient civilizations' footsteps
- the tingly spidey- sense I get when petroglyphs & pictographs are near

I cannot wait to share my happy place with M. I know he'll love it as much as I do.

Where is your happy place? If you don't have one, feel free to share mine.

From Texas, and LouisianaMississippiAlabamaTennesseeKentuckyWestVirginiaMaryland, to Virginia! - Pt 1 Louisiana & Mississippi

Disclaimer - This trip is fuzzy in my memory... R and I were both under some stress from moving so far away for the first time... and its the ONE trip I didn't journal.

R and I had almost 2 weeks to report for work in Virginia... and many states to get through before then. We loaded up both of our vehicles to the brim and headed east. I had bought little walkie talkies for us to use on the road. (before great cell reception and waaaaaay before texting...) We very quickly learned that our walkies would pick up every vile foul thing truckers were saying to each other, and to the 'ladies' who worked the truck stops. Ew....

Our first stop was in New Orleans. I'd been there several times before but never without family, making my own decisions on what to do and where to go. We stayed in a nice high rise hotel on Canal, at the intersection of the French Quarter and the medical district. Basically tourist central... I remember our hotel had no 13th floor.... if you didn't know, they're pretty superstitious down in the Big Easy.

After a good night's sleep, we set out to explore the town. We took the Saint Charles streetcar all the way to the levy where it turns around. Its open air and slow moving, so its a great way to get a look at the city. One of the most notable things about the streetcar system is that the drivers are extremely friendly with each other. Imagine taking a cab ride in NYC, only to have the cabbie stop the car everytime he passed a cabbie friend. This is what happens in New Orleans. Our operator woman stopped the streetcar at least twice when a passing streetcar was driven by a friend. Their conversation was what you might hear in a hair salon... A five minute discussion of who's doing what, with who, and when. Very much a laissez les bontemps roulez attitude. (translation: Let the Good Times Roll). I have a feeling that Mexican time can't compete with New Orleans time... R and I didn't mind the stopping. It was a great taste of the local culture, and gave us time to take a better look at the surroundings.

Tracks are spaced close enough for streetcar operators to
discuss their day as passengers wait, and wait, and overhear
intimate details of these strangers lives. Fun! - ummm not my image...

Inside of streetcar - again, not my image. I can only hope that
this is during Marde Gras and this person is heading for a truly good time!

At the end of the line, the streetcar literally turns around. Everyone on had to get off and stand to the side as the track spun in a circle, then they let us back on and off we went. R and I got off at the garden district and walked to Garden District Book Shop. I'd read online that there were free walking tours given by local old men most mornings. This was intriguing, and in hindsight I wish every city on the planet would do this! The book store was this cute little shop directly across from Lafayette Cemetery #1. Our guide was an old creole man that I can only describe as "jolly and also a bit curmudgeony". He took us and 5ish others out to walk the Garden District. We wandered through the cemetery and learned the history and culture of the Lafayette cemeteries.

none of these are my photos...

there are 5 or 6 Lafayette Cemeteries spread around New Orleans

Crypts are above ground due to the low lying land, beneath the water
table. Galveston Island does the same thing...

The idea behind the crypts is that each one is owned by a family. When someone dies, there body is placed in the crypt, either in the center slab or off to a side slab. Nowadays coffins are used but before the 1940s, the bodies were simply placed on the slabs. Its so very Buffy the Vampire Slayer in there. Once a family dies out, the crypt is put on the market and a new family will take over. I have no idea what the new family does with the old families remains....

cheaper crypts... not family owned

These 'condo-style' crypts are usually owned by the city or a mortuary. These are much more interesting. Our guide told us that they don't use coffins. The interred body is allowed to stay there for at least 366 days, or a year and a day, to rest. Then if the crypt needs to be used again, the body is pushed to the back where there is a large enclosed hole that goes down to the ground. There would be piles of bones 8 feet high as more and more people are 'buried' here. Super interesting!

Walking through the cemetery was a bit unsettling. An underground burial is so easy to dismiss and these crypts are so visual, so many of them are beautiful, and you realize that you're looking at, what is essentially, a house of bodies. LC#1 is the most famous, being the oldest, and has been the setting for many books and movies. We were there in 2002, so a lot of talk revolved around Anne Rice's Interview with a Vampire.

After leaving the cemetery, we walked into a neighborhood of Garden District homes. These gorgeous homes have survived centuries, first built as home, slave quarters, and stables on each block. As we evolved and no longer used slaves, those grounds were filled with more homes and stables, doubling the population density. Then as cars took over and the stables weren't needed anymore, these stables became smaller garage apartments, increasing the population density even more. An aerial view of the district now would show a haphazard, scrambled collection of properties. An urban planner's nightmare.

Every house that we walked by was gorgeous! Most were painted white, all were surrounded by picturesque Live Oaks, the air was humid and quiet, with birds chirping everywhere. Our guide took us by Trent Reznor's house (frontman for Nine Inch Nails) and the home that Anne Rice lived in while writing her Vampire books. We also learned that most Garden District homes have the ceilings of their porches (big glorious wrap-around porches!) painted a pale blue to keep bees and wasps away. An old antebellum trick that really works!

Before leaving our tour, we asked for a restaurant recommendation in the French Quarter. Our guide gave us a name of a restaurant and the owner's name, saying 'he'll hook you up'.

The next day R and I hit the French Quarter and Jackson Square. Now I remember Jackson Square from when I was a kid. There are face painters, sidewalk painters, buskers, etc. My parents had friends in New Orleans so we went there often. I even have vague memories of the 'family' Mardi Gras parade. I say 'family' because the French Quarter will forever smell of stale beer and pee, and the exotic bars all advertise with pictures of each of their dancers. I spent a lot of time asking my parents why the women had black bars of areas of their bodies... hmmmm.

Jackson Square was gorgeous the day R and I went there. The square was built in 1815 and named after future President Andrew Jackson for his heroism during the Battle of New Orleans in 1815. We visited St. Louis Cathedral and Cafe du Monde. We walked down Bourbon Street and I was able to reminisce about my childhood thanks to the stale beer/pee smell. :-) The architecture of the buildings is pure French and gorgeous. We found the recommended restaurant and had a great meal - I don't remember the place or the dish, but I remember it was great!

not my image... but everyone who visits takes this same shot... 

After visiting the Garden District and the French Quarter, we'd seen what we wanted of the Big Easy and so we took off towards Mississippi for more adventures. But first we had to cross Lake Ponchartrain. I remember a huge traffic jam that caused us to sit on the bridge for an hour. Fine by us - great views and the feeling of the bridge swaying were enough to keep us occupied. (I remember later telling my parents about this and making my dad very uneasy... he hates big bridge, especially if they sway!) 

In Mississippi we stopped at Gulf Islands National Seashore for a quick visit... Its RIGHT off the highway. We didn't have time for a hike or beach visit. We simply stopped at the visitor center at the Davis Bayou section of the park. Gotta get that park stamp!

We also detoured down to Pascagoula and Moss Point. I'd spent a Thanksgiving holiday there one year and fell in love with the drapey Spanish Moss that is everywhere! One road in particular that we needed to go back and photograph. (and of course I don't have the photographs anymore. boo)

Onward to Alabama and Tennessee to the Jack Daniels Distillery!
To Be Continued....

The Messed Up Decision that Changed My Life Forever... In a Good Way

Ok - lets go back to the beginning. I've discussed my childhood spent driving the highways of the US, my parents instilling in me the deep desire for frequent road trips. I've also discussed many of my more recent adventures. But how did I get from there to here? Good question...

Like most messed up decisions, this one started the spring before I graduated college. I was graduating soon, didn't really know what career path I wanted, wasn't really getting anywhere with interviews, and didn't want to be one of those people who stayed around my college town long after graduation. So I did what any recent graduate would do - no, not move back home with mom and dad. I ran away to the east coast - to live and work at a resort in a national park. (Listen up, recent graduates! Super-cheap rent, interesting coworkers, good money.) This decision wouldn't have been possible without the support and accompaniment of my roommate and bestie, R. She was in the same predicament as me and therefore, ready to hit the road!

The plan was to go as far north along the east coast as possible - to Acadia National Park!

Gorgeous, right? Yes it is. I STILL haven't been there.

Acadia was quickly pulled as a possibility due to the lack of housing in the park for workers at the concessions. (Quick note - most national park sites have different kinds of workers - National Park Rangers mostly wear badges, get paid by your tax dollars, and must be US citizens - Concession workers are the people who work at the resorts, the campgrounds, the camp stores, the restaurants, etc, - no badges, get paid by a private company, and are mostly NOT US citizens.) So R and I quickly pulled out the US map and searched for the next northernmost national park that may have housing... This is how we ended up with Shenandoah National Park.

Just as gorgeous as Acadia, but in a very different way.

No R and I were not hikers or outdoorsy. That bears repeating. R AND I WERE NOT OUTDOORSY! Ok, keep that in mind over the next few posts as I describe our new-found lifestyle.

But first, we had to road trip our way up to Virginia.

to be continued.....

Lost Journal Entry...

When I was posted outside the cave at Carlsbad Caverns, I got to witness some truly glorious spring days. You know those days when the sky is that perfect shade of deep blue, a few fluffy white clouds sail past to remind you of unseen winds, the landscape is a desert postcard of deep greens and accent greys, birds chirp and flirt and build homes for future chicks, and ravens play overhead to taunt you and your earthboundedness... yeah, those were the days I was inspired to write. I'd write on a tiny notepad I kept in my sexy NPS-provided fanny pack. I would write thoughts, aspirations, travel plans, and memories.

I recently found that notepad, and on it I had written this.... 

I discovered who I was the summer after college. I went to Virginia looking for something but not sure what. What I found was myself. The self that was hiding deep inside; the self that cried out for every trail that went into the woods along the highways we traveled during family vacations and led me down old farm roads during one of my drives. I realized that I was happiest when I was simply putting one foot in front of the other in the wilderness. I spent lazy summer afternoons lying on a mountain peak with a book in my hand, some good company and a beautiful view. I hiked through the ethereal Blue Ridge fog, the life-stealing heat of Utah's desert and sand dunes in the Rockies. I've seen alligators, badgers, mountain lions and bears along winding wooded paths.

My life has taken me to many new places. I have met some wonderful and interesting people along the way. There was the practical joking law enforcement officer who engaged me in a battle of the wits, the guys who lived next door who rappelled from the roof of the house and the drunk, with whom I shared a wall, who had a heart of gold and a never ending supply of weed and beer. I have met mortal enemies and kindred souls, sometimes living with one or the other. The most interesting souls I've run across have been the thru-hikers along the Appalachian Trail. So many different walks of life and reasons for hiking the AT yet they all came together for one common goal; to finish the 1,200 mile-long historic trail.

I grew up a nervous child always pestering my parents with "what if" questions. Who would have guessed that I would grow to experience all that I have. I've been chased off a mountain peak by bolts of lightning that rained down around me and spent hours deep within the red-rock canyons of Utah never quite believing that I could get out. I have witnessed first light from the top of a 2,000 foot cliff and been woken by cowboys moving herds of cattle around my tent. I have hiked through the 120-degree heat of a Utah summer, camped in the howling winter winds of the Guadalupe Mountains and bagged a peak in Virginia during a blizzard. But none of that prepared me for the tiny holes and crevasses that awaited me my first season as a park ranger at Carlsbad Caverns. There I learned the true meaning of the words "pitch black" and understood just where the term "pinch" got its name.

I have lost toenails, gotten sun poisoning and developed a stress fracture for my love of hiking. I sold my apartment and all of its furnishings to follow my dreams and I've never been happier!

Happy discovery!

This was one of those perfect spring days

Happy Thanksgiving (although I confess this has historically been one of my least favorite holidays)

Today I am thankful for the long hard road that has led me to my first completely compassionate Thanksgiving Day. I am thankful for my friends and family who may not always agree or understand but are supportive nonetheless. I am thankful for a fantastic boyfriend who loves me as much for our differences as for our similarities. I am thankful for the Vegetarian Society of El Paso, a group of people who I never expected to meet and never expected to have such an impact in my life.

There are many other things in this world I'm thankful for, like sunlight soaking into my skin or the smell of the air in a pine forest or for my grandma Joy and all her undying support of me throughout my life. But, for today, I'll stick with the short list above. The rest are just for me.

The Kritzler clan of Texas, Ohio, and a bit of Canada (c. 2009)

The Hines clan of Texas and Iowa (c.2006)

What are you thankful for today? (Please don't say Black Friday Sales or I will Punch You in Your Throat!)

The Inner Secrets of Tamales

Last month I went back to Houston for a friend's wedding and to visit my family. While I was there, mom and I decided to try tamale-making for a second time. I've been perfecting the art of tamales here in El P with my best friend A. Mom has only made tamales one other time and we deemed it a 'learning experience".

Now I wanted to try some new recipes because I've been asked to give a cooking class for the Vegetarian Society of El Paso focusing on vegan tamales. Some of you might be thinking "what the F--- are vegan tamales!?" while others may be wondering "what the F are tamales?!" Tamales are amazing Latin American comfort foods! Anything you desire can be mixed with cornmeal and wrapped in a corn husk (recycling!) for steaming. I didn't truly understand the desire for tamales until I was almost 30, but for the last 4 years I've been a tamale-eating machine. I've even bought tamales out of the trunk of an old Mexican lady's car in a supermarket parking lot in Joshua Tree, CA. True Story...

This is my chosen tamale-making guide. I love it!

So I decided that I should document the process along the way to help me with my cooking class this coming spring... and if I can kill 2 birds by also blogging about it, rock on!




First you need to let the cornhusks soak for a bit, say 30 minutes. Don't buy cornhusks from your local English-speaking grocery. Head over to the nearest Spanish-speaking market and pick up all your ingredients.






Cooking our ingredients...



Roasting some green chiles...





Most recipes will call for lard but I'm using Crisco to keep these guys vegan.  Ask me sometime about my mother dropping this huge heavy Crisco can on my little girl toes. Only one nail came off and I forgave her once I was able to walk without a limp again. I relive this moment every time I pick up a Crisco can. :-) Hi mom!

Now I forgot to take a picture of the masa we were using. Masa is the cornmeal used for all tamales. Again, Spanish-speaking grocery (la tienda), not English-speaking grocery. I guess you could make your masa from scratch but really... what decade is this?! I'm cool with store-bought masa.


Mix the veggies and chopped green
chiles, simmer and let cool

Whipped shortening looks like
whipped cream but tastes terrible!



You'll also need a large steamer for steaming - in El P we use A's big turkey roaster. It is perfect! Alas, in Houston we had to create our own thing. Introducing the recycled tamale steamer! We needed to make a space between the water at the bottom of the pan and our little roaster thing (not seen).



Nothing says "Texas" like a football
Dr Pepper can... and nothing says "Kristi"
like a Pepsi can.



 Alright, now we assemble the tamales...

Spreading masa onto open corn husk. I use a spatula
because they're bendy.

 

Cheese or vegan cheese - it goes on top of your veggies

 

 

There are many ways to roll but I chose this one for my
vegan tamales. Even added a little bow to hold the thing closed.

 

And if a bow doesn't work, say Fuck It! and
use ye ole traditional rubber bands.

Here's mom rolling her tamales. Did I mention that this
is a group activity? Making tamales solo would require way
too much wine and boredom. Get some friends or relatives
and have a tamale-making day!

Except for grandma.. grandmas doesn't do
tamales. She's never even had a tamale. In her
defense, she's German. I bet there's a
saurkraut tamale out there somewhere.

 

Stand the tamales upright in the steamer
so they don't spill out...

The cans are doing their job!

 We also decided to try some dessert tamales... I've got dark chocolate tamales in my freezer right now and they are amazing! However, on this day we tried pineapple for my dad who loves all things tropical.

We followed the recipe but the filling was very soupy.
On the bright side, it was pretty good to eat out of the bowl!

We decided to pour the tamale soup into a pie dish and bake
it like cornbread. It was super tasty! Even grandma tried it.

 

Once your tamales are out of the steamer (1 hr-ish), bag them up in freezer bags and freeze them overnight. They will last a very long time in the freezer and are great for work lunches. Just be sure to label the bags as frozen tamales offer no secrets to their contents.

 

Labeling is important!

 

FYI - Did you know that Tamale is also a town in Ghana? The internet is amazing!

 

For more info on tamales, or to really mess with some facts, visit their Wikipedia page

 

A List of Random Things You May or May Not Know About Me

• I only need about 10 minutes of Justified-watching before my southern accent comes on thicker than cold molasses.
• Speaking of Timothy Olyphant, can we all just agree that he should only ever wear a wife-beater (look it up!) or appear shirtless?
• If I were a water-molecule on a highway, I'd prefer to be run-over by an AquaTread tire.... the idea of shooting down the middle tread like a flume sounds fun.
• I've been named the VOOP... the official Voice-Of-Organ-Pipe. Call Organ Pipe Cactus NM and listen to the voice on the phone tree. That's me!
• My toes are double-jointed..... freaked out my parents when I was young.
• I love those gross late-night surgery shows that are on Discovery Health.
• I guess you've already read how I have an odd belief that bodies are going to float up beneath me when I'm sitting in a body of water. No? Read it here....
• The first bottle of wine I ever opened was tough to get into but I managed to work the corkscrew. Upon showing my parents the fruits of my labor, they laughed and pointed out that it was a screw-top bottle....
• I love period-films but anything involving amputation scenes is unacceptable.
• Severe Roach Phobia
• I enjoy crosswords mainly because it involves placing letters in tiny neatly arranged boxes
• I can't stand to watch, or be watched, people brushing their teeth. The beginning of Stranger Than Fiction was tough for me.
• If I ever have a child, I want it to be a girl so I can name her after my grandma. Little baby Evelyn... I'm sure I'll regret my desire as soon as she hits her pre-teens.
• One year for Christmas I gave my father a box of bat-shit... he's a gardener.
• And then one birthday, I received my father's ponytail in the mail.
• I was a twirler... and was offered a scholarship for it.
• I'm the first born in my family  



my 1st birthday

• My favorite time of the year is Fall. I love the changing colors on the trees and plants; I love the crisp fall air; I love baking fall treats.
• I broke my foot but demanded a walking cast only because I was planning to visit Big Bend NP and wanted to be able to hike.
• I've recently discovered that most of my travels are to the same places as my grandparents. Very odd...
• I took, and taught, photography in college.
• I busted my tooth on my swingset in elementary school

see the pull-up bar on the left...
it will forever have a dent from my tooth!

• I love architecture!
• I've been vegetarian for many years and am embarking on veganism.
• I was the last of 4 grandchildren to get a tattoo.
• I was pretty terrified of everything as a child. Sometime in high school that all changed and my life of adventure began.
• I've taken road trips my entire life; with my family as a child and with friends, or alone, as an adult.
• I've used the excuse "but I'm from out of town" several times after driving the wrong way down a one-way road.
• I'm named after my mother's maiden name, and I share my middle name with her.
• There are 2 people in my family with my exact name - first and last - and spelled exactly the same.
• I have never mowed a lawn... and i hope that will remain true forever.
• I have eaten lichen.
• I've also eaten guinea pig, snails, and frog legs.
• I developed a pork allergy from a tick in the Appalachian Mountains. True story.
• I wish someone would invent some type of garbage disposal for the shower drain. Someone with long hair - go! Invent! Become a millionaire!
• My favorite movie is 50 First Dates.... followed closely by Forgetting Sarah Marshall. I think its partly because Hawaii is so relaxing, and partly because I'm a mushy romantic at heart.
• I have a huge girl-crush on Pink.

Alright, I feel like this post is becoming an exercise in narcissim, but please excuse me because I'm sick and bored on my couch.

3 Wild and Crazy Girls Decide to Throw a Party....

When you live in the middle of nowhere, you have to make your own fun, and oh hell yes, we have made our own fun! I have never partied quite as much as when I lived in a certain desert park. We threw parties for EVERYTHING! Hey, my neighbor bought a coconut bra! Jimmy Buffet Party! or Hey, its Thursday and we have extra beer. Karaoke! but my personal favorite was Hey, I lost a bet and now have to throw a kick ass party as payback. Why not make it my 29th birthday party and the theme will be 1978?!

Yes, I had a 70s basement party, complete with Tab, PBR, Disco, (fake) illegal party favors, and Hunter S. Thompson. One thing I'll say about rangers... they know how to party.

So three wild and crazy girls set out to make this the best party of the season, or my payback on the bet wouldn't work. D, C and I each had a role to play. D was in charge of decorations and awards. You can't have a 70s party without a costume competition. She made Loser buttons for people who didn't dress up. These buttons were modeled after official campaign buttons by the politicians who lost the presidential races in the 70s. (Um, sorry to those politician guys but none of you looked familiar. Losers)

C and I were in charge of food, music and learning 70s dance routines. Basically, we watched that episode of That 70s show where they all dance at a disco, over and over again until we had it down!

As I Googled 70s party food, much to my delight I discovered that all the hors dourves that my mother and grandmother had been serving for years was 70s food! I knew exactly how to make this stuff.  Now if only the liquor procurement had gone as easily. Being as we lived in Utah, we would have to look far and wide for a liquor selection. Luckily one of our neighbors was heading to Colorado and after some sweet talking, he brought back the makings for White Russians. (I love them, they are 70s, and I'll probably never be able to drink them again. More on that later.)

Someone actually found Tab at a local store.... not that surprising in our neck of the woods. Some of the food on the grocery shelves was older than me!

Yeah, we were all stoked about the Tab. That stuff is horrible!

Now I must confess that the idea behind this party came a few months before when, at a thrift shop, C found an outfit that she couldn't pass up, but couldn't wear anywhere else.... I had a bridesmaid dress that would fit in and D decided she would come as Mrs. Robinson.

70s Bridesmaid, Mrs Robinson, and Disco Queen - the
masterminds behind the party

The entire park pitched in to help decorate. We had Christmas lights, a disco ball, extra basement furniture, lava lamp, even a mirror to keep in the bathroom for the powdered sugar lines... There was easy cheese, pigs-n-blankets, Tab, White Russians, and more.

Once the sun went down, the disco ball was lit up and as the music blared, the strangest costumes began walking into my house.

C's man showed up. Digging the chains and the shoes!

Smarmy Chuck brought Wonder Woman

Hunter S Thompson, Best Costume Award
He stayed in character all night, shouting at bats, staring into the
disco ball, spending way too much time with the lines in the bathroom....

The hippies did the Time Warp.

Disco Diva

We danced all night. The YMCA, the Hustle, and yes, C and I did our 70s Show routine. Awards were handed out for most authentic costume (Hunter ST), most original (Mrs. Robinson) and of course, the Loser buttons. Someone even got a Pet Rock for an award. C made me an awesome cake and there were birthday candles and singing. There was also lots of drinking. Everyone lives within walking distance so as long as people could walk up the stairs, they were free to go. For those of us living in my house, we drank a bit too much. I do remember perilously making my way up the stairs to mix 2 more jugs of White Russians... 1 for me, and 1 for C. I even found straws to make drinking from the jugs possible. This was NOT a good idea. This was the one and only time that I've ever blacked out from drinking. (It won't be happening again. A few days later, someone told me that I'd run out of cream so the 2nd jug was just milky vodka.... ew.)

While I was blacked out, and God-knows where, the party took a turn. Hunter S Thompson started playing Broomtar (broomstick as guitar) to Sister Christian with Disco Diva clawing at his feet. Smarmy Chuck might have snorted some powdered sugar in the bathroom. Eventually Wonder Woman apprehended Hunter ST for trying to kill too many imaginary bats. Smarmy Chuck lost his Jeri Curl wig, and his chest hair. Some time later, Hunter would be seen wearing the wig and giving his best come hither looks for the camera. Yes, my neighbors were cool enough to capture all of this on camera for me so I wouldn't miss a thing. I'm not posting those because I'm pretty sure everyone was pretty wasted.

In the morning, I awoke with a pretty bad hangover. Luckily, my friends had stayed after everyone else left and we danced (sweated) out most of our liquor. I made my way down the hall, I realized our house was now the scene of the Apocalypse. Blue sequins were everywhere, trash and cups littered the basement, dirty dishes were piled in the sink, and we still had a 12-pack of Tab to drink. But, I had paid back my lost wager, had a fantastic birthday party, and haven't drank a White Russian since!

YiiiiMCA!

PS.... I've moved 7 times since this party and I STILL find those damned turquoise sequins around my house. I lovingly refer to them as Corree-sequins.

The cheapest, and hardest, spa therapy I've ever had... or How I Shrunk My Leather Boots

Sometimes you wanna hike trails, with a map, trail guide, and difficulty ratings. Other times you just wanna start walking across untrodden soil, letting the landscape tell you its own story. This post is about something in between.... something the park service calls "routes". Those are my favorite.

A route is an unmaintained trail that enough people have walked and survived to pass on the information. I like these trails because I typically have it to myself, or may encounter a few people but they are cool hiker-types like myself.  :-)

One such hiking adventure started on a typical gorgeous morning living in the Waterpocket Fold. A friend, J, was visiting and we decided to hook up with another friend, R, for a day of route-hiking. We had a topo map (don't worry mom, I was well-prepared) and recommendations from friends on the particular route we'd be walking. This route was a canyon that parralleled the highway. Hard to get lost, by hard to get out of. We kinda of knew where to park, and we kinda knew where we'd come out of the canyon but the 7 miles in between, not so sure.

Me and J hiking through the Waterpocket Fold. See, no trail here.... this is a route.

The first half of our journey was great, gorgeous and fun. We were completely entrenched in a rock canyon, with no way out but to walk east. Every now and then we'd find a game trail along the side of a ravine. It got a little sketchy but R was great at keeping me calm. (I freak out easy if the ground I'm walking on isn't solid.) I guess I should mention that it was monsoon season so those 7 miles needed to be walked by noon. Catching yourself in a canyon during a rainstorm can be deadly and tourists die every year making this mistake. So yeah, I was a bit on edge.

Anyway.... we were seeing lots of birds, some deer, even scared some quail who couldn't fly and just kept running ahead of us for a mile! After a few hours, it began to sprinkle but nothing to worry about. Just enough to make us walk faster. I guess I was moving a bit too fast because as I was about to leap over a giant mud puddle, I slipped and fell in! The falling in mud part wasn't so bad, it was the getting stuck part that got me.  I had slipped into a puddle of wet betonite clay, the most slippery substance I've come across. My hiking boot and leg had been wedged down into the clay and I couldn't get out! J began to freak out a bit, yelling for R who was lagging behind. All I heard from her was "oh no! OH NO!" and then she asked if I was ok. I was, I just wasn't going anywhere. R came up behind me, grabbed the loops on my backpack and began tugging. With a great sucking sound, my leg and boot popped out. J, who had decided if I was laughing, life was ok, began taking photos... Here is my favorite...

This mud is spa-worthy. Afterwards, my leg was smooth and my pores never smaller!

and another....

and then this one...

I got chilly being stuck in a mud pit.... and it was raining...
hence the rain poncho. Go Aggies!

The rest of the trip, my leg mud dried as we walked through the most beautiful canyon I've ever seen. (yeah, even you, Grand Canyon!) The mud flaked off my leg and my boot, leaving both tighter and firmer.... some people pay lots of money for that treatment! At the very end of the trail, in order to get back to the highway, we had to wade through a pretty nasty, agriculture run-offy river and then bushwack our way through tamarask. After reaching the highway and realizing we had no idea where the car was, J and I took off east while R took off west with the keys. Glad he found the car first and came to pick us up. Another part of route hiking are the unforeseen adventures!

After I got home and showered, I cleaned my boots and wrapped them in newspaper to dry out. A few days later, they were clean and gorgeous, and 2 sizes smaller! So I gave them to a friend and bought some new ones. At least they could live to see another trail on another day.

All in all, a great day. What I remember most when I look back on that hike is this...

Take the trail less traveled and you shall be rewarded

Meet my alter ego... "Near Miss"

Have you ever had one of those days where you should probably have just stayed home? But you didn't and weird, possibly bad, things happened and now you have a kick-ass story and an even more kick-ass nickname? I have!

When you hike the Appalachian Trail along the east coast, or any long trail for that matter, you are given a trail name. You can make one up, or earn one by doing something (read: something really stupid). Or you can do what I did and give yourself one for doing something stupid. My trail name is Near Miss, for all those times I nearly missed dying while enjoying the great outdoors.

Maybe I gained the nickname after I accidently scared a bear that was sleeping up in a tall pine tree, causing it to come sliding down the tree, fireman-style, land a few feet from me and run off into the woods.

Scared a bear outta a tree!

Or was it from all those times where I was too busy sight-seeing while driving, only to have my best friend R calmly say "Um.... road?" as we were veering off towards a rock wall, or worse, NO WALL between us and the valley far far below.

Maybe it was the time the ginormous Yellowstone bison decided to bluff charge my tiny Honda Civic. The bison would have won, making my little zoom-zoom car its bitch in the process.

Wyoming-sized bison vs. college-sized car

Actually, the crowning Near Miss moment came on a day when my friend C and I went hiking. A day that we should have probably just stayed home, but then we wouldn't have this awesome story!...


It all began when C and I picked the 3rd highest peak in the park to hike that day. We'd found a nice 7-mile loop that would knock off another 4 miles of Appalachian Trail in my book. The day was sunny and clear, no rain predicted, and we were ready to hike!

The first 3 miles were great! Hiked through the woods, played in the river, then to some old cabins and hunting for berries. As we were hiking out of the valley, we noticed it was getting darker. Clouds were coming and it looked like rain. I'd hiked in the rain before and its not always a bad thing, in fact, it can be quite pleasant if you are prepared for it. We hiked a mile up out of the valley, discussing the weather and what we should do. By then, we had already made it to the Appalachian Trail, which would take us 3 miles back to the car. So this being the shortest route and still no rain, we continued on.

The 3 miles of AT that we were about to hike down were along the ridge of the 3rd highest peak in the park, surrounded by valleys on all sides. As we looked out the eastern edge towards Washington DC, we saw some storm clouds off in the distance. We heard some thunder far off.  No biggie... plenty of time to make it 3 miles and 1500 feet down to the car. We continued walking.

I didn't really start worrying about the thunder until one clap stopped both C and I dead in our tracks. I'm a huge worrier... thanks to my dad. (see this blog and blame him!) This clap came from the west and it was close! Suddenly we were surrounded by thundering clouds! I began to walk a bit faster, although my asthma had flared up due to the steep climb out of the valley and the horrible air quality in the Appalachians. I asked C, a veteran outdoorswoman, what we do if we are caught in a storm. "Duck and cover" didn't quite seem appropriate and not hiding under the tallest tree wasn't a concern... in fact, there were NO tall trees up here. Just short stubby bushes with us standing tall amongst them.

C, Me, Bushes, Clouds and Lightning.  No bueno...

C suggested when the time came, we should crouch down, yoga-commando style, on one foot, the other balanced on the shoe of the first, hands over head, in a ball. But, she said, it wasn't time yet. We needed to get further down the mountain. We began walking very fast as the winds picked up, fat drops of rain began to fall, and the warring thundering clouds moved overhead and combined into one massive angry storm!

About the time we saw the first lightning bolt hit the ground not far away, C and I took off into a run. Now if you know me, you know I DON'T run! Asthma, remember? Well, adrenaline will allow your body to do amazing things. We ran down the entrenched trail that had quickly become a river. We hopped out of the Appalachian Trail River to run beside it, dodging tree limbs and leaping over boulders in our hurry to get the hell off the mountain. I kept yelling behind me "Now? Time to crouch now?!" C kept yelling "No, Keep Running!" and so I kept running in the now pouring rain as lightning crashed around us.

At some point, a bear joined us on the trail. I don't know if it was the storm or us yelling every time the lightning crashed that scared him but he bounded out of the bushes just in front of me. Normally I would have stopped and let him get away from us but there was no way I was stopping now. We ran behind that bear for 10 minutes or so before he turned into the bushes and away from the trail. That poor bear probably thought we were chasing him!

Eventually we made it all the way down the mountain. Still pouring rain, still raining electricity, still thundering angry clouds. We came to a stop just short of a clearing. Beyond the clearing, 80 yards or so, was my car. Salvation was so close! However, remember how they say you shouldn't stand in a meadow in a lightning storm? So there C and I are, dripping wet, panting and scared, debating over whether to stay in the cover of forest and wait it out or make a run for it. I was all for making a run for it. C was sticking with me. I readied myself with my car keys in my hand and we took off.

Visualize, if you will, all those Vietnam war movies where the men come charging out of the jungle, screaming, the look of war and terror in their eyes. That's what we looked like... soaking wet, seen some action, screaming as we broke free of the sheltering trees! We hauled ass across the field and the street, wrestled with the lock and safely made it into the car. We sat there for many minutes, watching the storm rage around us, trying to catch our breath and piece together these last 4 miles.

This story isn't over yet...
As we sat there, I noticed a strange pounding feeling on my toes. I pulled my soaking boots and socks off to relieve the pressure. After driving 10 miles back to the cabin, my toes were really sore and my toenails were upraised and blue. Weird right? Well, I had on blue nail polish but after removing the polish, the bluish color remained! Within days both of my big toe nails had fallen off, sacrificed to either the hiking or lightning gods. The sacrifice must have worked, I haven't been chased off a mountain by lightning bolts since!

P.S. my toenails grew back great, in spite of what the doctor and C predicted.

Um.... Is That Our Boat?!

It's been a wonderful Christmas and a very happy New Year so let's get back to this city-girl's hysterical history working in nature....

It all started when I began listening to my mother....  she wanted me to work in a "green park with trees".  I guess this was her way of saying she was sick of driving across West Texas. (ahem... 12 hours of straight road through brown desert before hitting the New Mexico line, which then has MORE straight roads and brown desert!)  So I headed up north to a forested park with 1000s of lakes and millions of islands.

From a plane, these islands look about as tiny as they really are!

One day mid-summer, I go out for a day-long patrol in a small boat with another ranger.  B was a young guy who had worked here for a few years and "knew what he was doing and would take full responsibility". Famous last words...

We had been island hopping all day, checking campsites and talking to boaters on the water.  These islands don't have docks; you just pull on the shore and tie up.  Like this...

Boating in the north woods is rough business!

After tying and untying all day as we moved from island to island, we were psyched to get to some sandy shores where we could just beach the damn boat.  We beached our boat and headed over to the campsite to clean up some leftover trash.  Dropping the trash, my backpack and our radio back into the boat, we noticed some blueberries up a small hill so off we went.  We were gorging ourselves on luscious sun-warmed blueberries and enjoying a glorious afternoon of blue skies and bluer waters when I happened to look past the bushes and down to the water, seeing something that made my heart skip a beat...

"Um... is that our boat?!" I ask B.

B stood up out of a bush, covered in blueberry juice, and cast an incredulous eye down to the lake where a boat with my backpack and our radio was floating unmanned out to Canada.

B - "Shit!!!" as he ran down the hill to the beach.

Me - "Fuck!  You go get it! You're responsible for the boat, remember?" as I ran after him.

B - "WTF ever! You go get it.  You saw it first!" still running.

Me - "Hell no! I'm a 7 and you're a 5, you go get it!" still following.

B began to strip off his shoes as he ran onto the now empty beach.  Socks, pants and shirt soon followed; tossed onto the sand as he prepared to dive headlong into the lake and chase after our damn runaway boat! Just before he hit the water, I yelled for his glasses.  (can't have him losing those or even if we get our boat back, we'll never make it home!) His glasses came flying at me as he disappeared into the water in a flurry of splashing.

I helplessly watched from shore, pacing nervously and wondering how I was going to explain losing a boat and having to hitch a ride home to my boss.  B raced across the water and finally made it to our boat just moments before it hit the international channel and was taken away by the current.  Luckily he was strong and young enough to haul himself into the boat.  However, before he did, he took a quick look around to make sure nobody was looking!  My heart soared as he roared the boat to life and hauled ass towards shore.

He beached the boat on shore again, making sure to TIE UP.  I turned my head just in time as he stripped out of his underwear and laid on a rock to dry off.  So there I was, holding B's clothes, in full uniform, desperately trying to hide my badge, while standing next to a naked sunbathing coworker.  One more thing to try and explain to my boss... and to B's girlfriend.

After a few minutes, B decided he was dry enough to get back in the boat, still naked but for his wet and now see-through undies.  We loaded up into the boat and floated back to the open water.  Breaking the silence, B turns to me and says "Nobody hears about this! Right?".  I agree and we both burst into laughter.

As we turn the boat and head back towards home, a boat approaches us.  Keep in mind we are in a bright red boat with "Park Ranger" emblazoned cross the sides and B is in transparent underwear.  I plaster a big smile on my blushing face and greet our visitors, a family with small children. (I died....).

All I remember of our conversation with the family was how B kept trying to turn the boat's nose towards theirs to hide his nakedness.  This is exactly what you don't normally want to do and the dad driving his boat kept trying to correct and pull up next to us.  His eyes widened when he achieved parallel status only to see naked B in the drivers seat!  Hah!  He smiled, and giving us side eye, turned his boat away a bit. B muttered something about an unexpected swim and we departed.

By the time we made it home, he'd told several friends we met along the way so the secret was out.  Everyone had a good laugh.. but I don't remember ever telling my boss.

Sorry for not having any pictures of the event.  That would have been PRICELESS!