Mountaineering Class Post 1: What is the Basic Climbing Class?

I've been a backpacker for over a decade, but I was ready to take my outdoor knowledge to the next level and add more technical skills. In March I started taking a Basic Climbing and Mountaineering class through the Washington Alpine Club (WAC). The class is described as "a basic but comprehensive introduction to the technical mountaineering skills required to travel safely over snowfields, glaciers, and high-angle rock."

When I started the class, I didn't even know what perlon was, or why I would need a personal anchor, or how to use a prusik. But I feel like I've learned a ton already. With classes on Tuesday nights and field trips on Saturdays, and attendance mandatory to both, we can cover a lot of material. It's a good pace though- challenging and stimulating without being overwhelming.

So far we've had four Saturday field trips. The first was to Mount Si, just outside North Bend. That was a bit of a fitness test, to see how we'd do hiking four miles up with 3,200 feet of elevation gain with 30+ pounds on our backs. We have a strict packing list, and here we are in the parking lot for pack checks.

And then, once we got to the top, it was good practice to stay dry and warm for the rest of the day. I've hiked Mt. Si lots of times, but usually in warmer weather, or I eat a snack and descend. But this day in March, it was snowing and we still had hours of standing in the snow as we did rotating workshops. 

We had a map and compass workshop, and practiced knots. My favorite station was emergency bivouac, where we basically made a huge cuddle pile. And we must have been doing something right, because that was probably the warmest I was all day.

Saturday #2 took us to a man-made climbing rock called Spire in Spanaway (outside Tacoma). Spire was a great place to practice basic climbing skills, like climbing in mountaineering boots, rappelling, belaying, ascending using a hand-line, and practicing using our personal anchors.

We had other non-rock stations, such as roping up for glacier travel, which just happened on the grass. The goal was to flake the rope, divide it, and get our 4-person team all properly tied in and personal prusiks attached in under five minutes.

We also had another really cool station rotation where we learned to ascend a rope using a Texas prusik. This is how you would get yourself out of a crevasse if need be. We all climbed at least 25 feet up in a tree, inching our way up toward a bag of candy on a high branch.

On Saturday #3 we went back to Spire, but this time turned everything up a notch. Instead of just belaying, we learned how to tie off a fallen climber to completely escape the belay system. For every rappel, we had to practice with our right and left hand, as well as with and without an ATC.

We ascended the rope into the trees again, but this time with our backpacks. We roped up for glacier again, but this time practiced passing protection and using commands to travel as a rope team.

By the 4th Saturday, we were ready to move onto real rock. We headed up to Mount Erie outside of Anacortes. We again had rotating stations, and worked on getting more comfortable with the skills we were already working on. We had a good chance to climb a variety of routes, and rappel bigger faces than we had done before. It was a beautiful spot to spend the day, with a stunning view looking south down the Puget Sound.

We were lucky enough to be on the edge of the rain shadow, and while it poured rain just east of us and in Seattle, we barely got a sprinkle all day. It was cold though, and the wind was howling. We did a lot of yelling, but it was still nearly impossible to hear calls from the top of the cliff like "rope!" or "off belay!"

We also had an anchors station. The class doesn't teach us necessarily how to build anchors, but how to at least check anchors for safety. 

Oh, we always go out for beer after class and field trips. It's a great group of people- both the students and the dedicated volunteer instructors. I'm looking forward to learning more and getting into more backcountry settings. This coming weekend is going to be our first overnight field trip- snow camping. Stay tuned!

Silent Grace (Amidst the Chaos)

I've been trying to write this blog post for over a month now.

It started when Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 disappeared, and left the world with a profound and unsettling mystery. I didn't follow the news obsessively, but definitely more than I usually do. My brain just couldn't wrap itself around the idea of a jetliner vanishing in 2014, and apparently others have tried to explain The Obsession over missing flight MH370.

Then there was the massive and tragic mudslide in Oso, Washington, destroying homes and claiming 41 lives. There are still three people missing, and area flags still flying at half-mast.

I found out that my bees did not make it through the winter, putting my backyard death toll in the tens of thousands and a sad way to start the spring.

Shortly after that, my sister's car got stolen with her one-year old daughter inside. The police responded really quickly, and they found the car just seven minutes later with the baby still sleeping inside. Everything turned out fine, but it was shocking and scary and a reminder of how quickly life can change. It gave me an uneasy sense about things not always going as they should, and our helplessness to prevent catastrophic events.

The absolute worst recent news is a dear friend getting diagnosed with cancer. It was out of nowhere- she's a perfectly healthy young woman. Again, my brain just can't quite comprehend it. When I think about it, I'm more angry than anything, at the unfairness and randomness and plain stupidness.

Usually some who likes to talk about everything, I'm too mad and bewildered to find my own words helpful. But I do like to read other people's words. My friend Tessa Hulls just finished a solo bicycle trip in Ghana. From the road she wrote:

"There is no such thing as passive riding here: the whole day is spent ceaselessly watching the road and shifting my body weight and trajectory to weave my way through all the various obstacles, and sometimes I have no choice but to just swear loudly to myself and brace for impact. My bike is being an absolute trooper, though. Forward motion is meandering at best, and my progress more aptly resembles the loping curlicues of figure skating, only with less sequined V-necks, and with a hell of a lot more dodging of wayward goats. 

Two days ago, I had what was probably my favorite moment thus far. I was at the very end of my riding, and was just barely limping myself to the village I was trying to get to. Then, out of nowhere, a man in traditional Muslim attire (flowing robe, that hat I don't know the proper name of), starting bicycling alongside me. He joined me with a smile and a nod, and he had some sort of music-playing device tucked away somewhere in his robes, and it was playing the same song on repeat. He kept pace with me for about three miles, and we parted ways with him worldessly pointing to a small turnoff, and smiling one last time before branching off. Small moments of silent grace, friends. They're why I do this."

I'm not saying that it's been a terrible past month. There have been a lot of fun and wonderful times too. But it has just been a potent reminder of how we cannot control life, only our reaction to what happens. So I've been doing what I can to feel grounded. On my bike, moments of bliss before dodging a card door; hiking and panting up a wooded hillside; staring out the bus window instead of at my smartphone; checking how the greens are growing in the garden; the focused lines and hum of my sewing machine; big hugs, arms wrapped tight with no words; quiet tears and glass of red wine; cooking for friends, like this Shallot Chicken, letting a sauce reduce and watching in a daze as the sprig of tarragon wilts away. I don't know what else to do right now, and so I continue to move forward, even if it's meandering and unsettling, and find my own moments of silent grace.

Winter at the Beacon Food Forest

I first got involved with Seattle's Beacon Food Forest a little over a year ago. Back in December, I wrote an overview of 2013 volunteering with the project. Since then, there's been three monthly work parties this winter. Considering those are usually some of the coldest and wettest months, the turnout and productivity was astonishing. Here's a look back:

January was shockingly warm and beautiful. Plants were planted, trenches dug, stone walls built, ground mulched, tools cared for.

My personal area of most interest is the compost, and in January we prepared the site for the first official compost bin. We leveled and woodchipped while the carpenters finished constructing the lid for the 3-bin compost system.

Lunch was sunny, musical, and delicious, and at the end of the day we realized there had been 150 volunteers. Incredible!

The February work party felt like a more typical winter day with its chilling cold and foreboding clouds. Again, amazing volunteers came and contributed a ton of work. In addition to planting nursery plants, we also started seeding some seeds. I was helping with compost again, as we chopped compost materials and started building up the piles. Then the sky opened up right at lunch time, and it POURED. We huddled under the pop-up tents, drank tea, and accepted that sometime you just have to get wet and muddy.

The March work party was right before the vernal equinox, so it was technically still winter. The weather was pretty nice- not too cold, and only the smallest spatterings of rain. Then it got sunny! I couldn't understand why my face felt so warm when I got home, and it took me awhile to realize that I had gotten a little sunburned! 

 

The Beacon Food Forest recently installed several beautiful educational signs throughout the site. Extra special about this work party? The artist who designed the signs came up from Portland to be there! Illustrator Molly Danielsson is an artist with a background in science, and specializes in visually representing complex and sometimes technical ideas. Her explanations of biological processes from compost to urban forests are awesome.

Olympic Coast Weekend

While the rest of the world was thinking about the Olympics in Sochi, I was plotting my escape to Washington state's own Olympic peninsula. I was waiting for the next opening in razor clam season as my perfect excuse to drive to the coast. These big clams can only be dug in the cooler months, and only after the Department of Fish and Wildlife tests marine toxins to determine they are safe to eat.

There are several beaches on the southern portion of the peninsula with abundant clam populations where you can dig on approved dates. The best time to dig is 1-2 hours before low tide.

 

From Dept. of Fish and Wildlife Website

Last Friday, low tide was around 6pm, so that meant that my sweetie and I had to leave town a little early to get to the beach in time. It was still light, and we had no trouble finding the clam holes and catching our limit (15 clams each).

It was a gorgeous evening- calm, clear, mild, and with a stunning sunset. Our hard digging work was rewarded with burgers and beers at a nearby pub before heading to the campsite. We had to blanch the clams to take the shells off, and then get them into the cooler. Did you know the Jetboil pot is the perfect width and depth for dunking razors clams?

In the morning, we still had to clean the clams. The clouds had rolled in and the wind picked up, and a seagull eyed us relentlessly from his perch 15 feet away. One of us did the cutting open while the other scraped the guts out. It was sort of a ridiculous process to do at a campsite on a winter day, with one bucket of guts and one bucket of clean rinsing water. We had to keep hot water on the camp stove to dunk our freezing fingers. But we knew it would be worth it to have a cooler full of clean, delicious local clams.

It was a fun day of road tripping north up the peninsula. I had never been on Highway 112 toward Neah Bay, and it's a beautiful stretch of road as it hugs the shoreline out to the very corner of the state. We made it to the Shi Shi Beach trailhead in the late afternoon. It's a couple miles hike in, and while I don't usually backpack in rubber boots, I'm glad I wore them for this crazy muddy trail.

This section of the coast is breath-taking. Shi Shi is wild and rugged and you realize that it has looked that way for hundreds or thousands of years. The Point of Arches sea stacks are so unique, and the tide pools are plentiful. It was a little disconcerting though to see how much garbage was on and off the beach. I thought at first that it was from visitors not packing out their garbage, but then I realized that with the buoys and big blocks of styrofoam, it was more likely that  the debris had been washed ashore. If I ever got back there, I am definitely bringing a garbage bag to haul off some of the trash.

It rained during the night and all day on Sunday. That didn't stop us from walking around and exploring, and in fact the mist added to the ambiance. I must be a Pacific Northwesterner, because I found myself saying things like, "Wow, we got so lucky with the weather! We saw stars on Friday, and it didn't even rain on Saturday!"

We hiked out of Shi Shi and took a short side trip to Cape Flattery, the most northwestern point in the contiguous United States. By that point, it was dumping rain. Luckily, much of the muddy trail is boardwalked. Unluckily, I wanted to take more pictures but was worried about damaging my camera in the downpour.

As we left Neah Bay, we decided that more coffee was in order. It was cold, damp, and we still had a bit of driving to get to Port Angeles, not to mention to the ferry and back to Seattle. The next town was Clallam Bay, so we figured we'd take whatever we could find, even if it meant a gas station. We stopped at a little shop on a corner of town, which appeared to be a hodge-podge of mini-mart, gallery, and ice-cream shop. I didn't see an espresso machine, and thought maybe this was not going to fit the bill. I asked the lady if she had coffee, and she exclaimed in a sweet Australian accent, "Why yes! But only French press and pour over. I carry beans roasted nearby in Sequim by a father and son team. Are you a light roast or dark roast person?" Needless to say, it was a really good cup of coffee, one of those welcome surprises when you are on the road and don't know what you will find.

Back home we set to work making a big clam dinner before the rest went in the freezer. We fried some clams as an appetizer, then made a northwest version of pasta a la vongole- a delicious pasta tossed with a white wine-butter-garlic clam sauce. Next up will be zucchini-clam fritters and clam chowder. Yeah for catching and eating your own food!

How to Be a Better Coffee Customer

I recently started a totally new job, which means I am 99% sure that I will never, ever again in my life get paid to make espresso. A part of me will miss my awesome customers, the grounding feeling of being part of the rhythm of some one's day, and serving up delicious, artfully poured caffeinated beverages. But I will not miss doing customer service, especially the moments when customers are less-than-ideal.

I like to give folks the benefit of the doubt and assume that they just don't know when they are being rude... and then I thought, "Hey, I should write a blog post about that!" Lo and behold, some one else already did. How to Piss Off Your Barista from the Huffington Post is pretty spot on, and mentions a lot of what I wanted to say. But, in laying down my barista hatchet (tamper?), I still must say my piece, my way.

1. When you order your drink, place your WHOLE order then. It actually matters.

It's really frustrating to have a customer tell you when you're halfway through steaming a pitcher of milk that they actually wanted nonfat milk. Or soy. Guess what? All that half-steamed, lukewarm milk gets dumped out, wasted. Also, even adding, "Can you make that extra hot?" while the drink is in progress is annoying, because I have timed your drink down to the SECOND to make sure that the milk is already done steaming before your shot finishes pulling. A shot that has to sit starts to taste bad. So sure, I CAN make your milk extra hot, but that extra 15 seconds of steaming is 15 seconds your shot is sitting, getting gross. Am I supposed to serve bad shots? Or do I pull new ones, giving you free product AND making you and every one else wait longer? It's a lose-lose situation.

One more example: It takes more cold milk at the start to make a dry cappuccino than a wet cappuccino. More milk yields more foam. Also, good, silky foam can only be made while the milk is cold/cool (below body temperature) so asking a barista to make your cappuccino bone dry when she's already halfway through steaming the milk is physically impossible. But she will just smile and nod.

2. Take out your earbuds/Look up from your smartphone when ordering.

I remember when I moved to South Korea in 2010 and was riding the subway in Seoul for the first time. Almost every one was on their smartphone. It struck me, because it wasn't yet like that in the U.S. When I came back to Seattle over a year later, I noticed far more smartphone use in public, and it permeates not just our alone time, but our time when we would previously have been interacting with humans. Family dinners? Smartphone. At the bar with friends? Smartphone. Ordering your vanilla latte? Smartphone. I understand that for a customer, it might be their few minutes of downtime between work or classes or driving. But for a barista, it's her full-time job, and even though you are just one customer with a three-minute interaction, a whole day of that is incredibly dehumanizing. If some one wants coffee from a machine, I recommend making it at home or going to a gas station or coffee vending machine.

You may have already seen these videos, but while we are on the topic of the pervasiveness of smartphones, here is comedian Louis CK on Conan O'Brien talking about kids and phones, and here's MIT professor Sherry Turkle giving a fabulous TED talk Connected, But Alone. Also, I wanted to share this poem (recorded on KUOW) called Analog Love by Elissa Ball. Elissa is an acquaintance I met in college, and is a powerful poet now living here in Seattle. I love this poem and how in explosive reverence it reminds us of the visceral, tangible qualities of life and love that have gotten lost in this digital age.

3. Order whatever you want, but don't justify your choices to the barista.

Baristas ask follow-up questions about your drink just to be sure they are making what you want, not because they care one way or the other. So if you order a soy mocha, she might ask if you want whipped cream just because that's standard. For every customer who rolls their eyes and says, "Uh... of course not, it's a soy mocha!" there are just as many customers who say, "Uh, of course! Who would pass up whipped cream on a mocha?" There are people who order nonfat lattes with whipped cream. Any drink that seems strange or unlikely has probably been ordered. It starts to feel really inauthentic to smile and chuckle and agree with all the customers and their widely varying preferences.

4. Don't act like spare change is a major catastrophe.

This mostly applies at places that don't allow baristas to accept tips, such as state institutions. Once I rang up a guy's coffee, and it was $2.03. He balked then glared at me, "Are you serious? Two oh three?" he repeated. I assumed he thought it was too expensive and that's what he was mad about. After repeating the price a few more times, he finally said, "What am I supposed to do with 97 cents?" He stared at me expectantly. Surprisingly, this kind of thing happened often- customers being almost offended that they had to take any change.

Also, don't try to pay less for a drink than the full price. It's just tacky. That same guy probably wanted to pay a flat $2 to avoid getting change back, and I understand it's only three cents. But unless you see a penny jar with pennies to use, it is putting the barista in an awkward position. If she is not the business owner, it's not really up to her to undercharge you, and her till needs to be correct at the end of the shift.

5. Try to talk to your barista while waiting for your drink.

Remember, this is what she does full-time, or a good chunk of her working hours. And guess what? Making coffee all day can get kind of tedious. A little genuine connection or sense of humor goes a long way. If she seems busy or not able to talk right then, that's fine. But a huge part of what makes working in the service industry enjoyable is relating to people. And what is going to be more enjoyable to you as the customer, checking your Facebook newsfeed for the billionth time, or a barista who knows you? I got really close to some of my coffee customers, and still hang out with a few of them even six months after leaving that job.

It was actually a customer who inspired me to apply for the job I have now. In our quick exchange at the drive-through window, I told her I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do next in my life. "Well, how would you spend your days if money was no object?" she asked. "Writing and gardening!" I said. She nodded pointedly as she drove away, and that was the first time it had ever occurred to me to think of myself as a writer. I am now a writer at a job I love, thanks in part to one customer who was willing to really engage for a few minutes.

6. Don't assume your barista knows everything about the surrounding area.

If you do want to ask a logistical question, at least preface it with a "By any chance do you know..." and if they don't know then don't stare at them like they are an idiot. It may be shocking, but being a barista at a cafe does not preclude that we know directions to every part of the city, all the bus routes, what time they come, where the closest post office is, why the automatic door opener on the building next door isn't working, how to get to your biochemistry lab in the J wing, etc. Most baristas are barely trained enough in coffee, let alone the whole city.

That's all I got. I don't usually rant, but I wanted to just get that off my chest. And I'm going to enjoy not making any one coffee for a looooong time. I already have a policy of only dating men who make coffee for me, so I'm off to a good start!

February of Champions

It's been over two weeks already, but I would be a terrible Seattleite if I didn't at least mention the Seahawks. You may have already heard about it, how they CONQUERED THE UNIVERSE? Or at the very least, won the Super Bowl?! 

Now, I'm not really much of a sports fan, but it was pretty amazing to see Seattle explode with so much pride and support. Suddenly everywhere you looked there were jerseys, hats, green and blue lights, banners, signs up in house windows, and whole downtown buildings decorated. The top of the Space Needle emitted the team's colors. Pretty much the whole city became the 12th Man. This was the view from my office for about 2 weeks before the big game.

And what did I do on that historic Sunday? I high-tailed it to the mountains, for a day of serene snow-tromping and hot spring soaking. Sacrilege, I know. I can't believe I'm even admitting that. I just didn't want to stay inside all day watching football when I've never been a fan. But I certainly was happy that so many Seattleites were happy to do just that. And I was kind of envious of all the delicious snacks that were being made and drinks being consumed.

The funny part was, when I got home around 6pm, I immediately checking the score and Facebook for the play-by-play. I suddenly had the overwhelming feeling that I couldn't completely miss the Super Bowl, so I ran to the pub across the street for a beer, some major Seattle camaraderie, and the last 20 minutes of the game. I cheered and hugged strangers and I have to say it was a pretty astounding evening to be in this city.

That weekend was also Imbolc, which is the halfway point between the winter solstice and spring equinox. I went to a Christmas tree burning at Golden Gardens- if you've never been to one of these, I highly recommend it. The quick woosh of flames is entrancing to watch, and you really do feel like some part of the darkness of winter is being burned away.

It was Groundhogs day too, and spring is indeed coming. But not before the weather took a seriously cold turn. That following week, it got beautifully clear and bitterly cold, making my bike commute painful for my fingers and toes.

That also meant it was in the 20's for the Seahawks Victory Parade, held the Wednesday after the game. I had to work that day, but luckily my office is in Pioneer Square, right on the parade route. These were some of the views out the window.

Even from five stories up, the  low roar of cheering from outside was audible for hours. I tried to get work done, but kept getting drawn to the window to watch the crowds in awe, who had arrived hours and hours before the parade started. I did go outside for a little while, and marveled at the people waiting steadfast in the cold, clustered onto a bridge, sitting in trees, and hanging from buildings.





My cousin and her husband actually drove to Seattle from Idaho to watch the parade, along with their two little boys, and were outside all day. I give them serious props for that. The day of the parade was pretty magical for me- not because I'm a Seahawks fan, but because I'm a Seattle fan. I will never forget how much energy, excitement, and joy was in the air. Call it a contact high.

The following weekend wasn't quite as civically momentous, but it was another great weekend. We celebrated my aunt's birthday by Riding the Ducks. Even though we are locals, no one in my family had ever done this land-and-water tour of the city. Verdict? It was really really fun. I learned a ton about Seattle that I didn't know, and it was a fast-paced, catchy, theatrical tour.

That night it snowed, and we got a long-awaited snow day. Everywhere kids were sledding and building snowmen. I tromped around the arboretum and Foster Island, with hot coffee and pain au chocolat. So far, February has been pretty fabulous.