I managed to survive a week in Melbourne before heading out to my first wwoof host. As excited as I was to make it to Melbourne, the city itself was a bit of a letdown. Its not like I have a NYC bias (I do, but even taking that into account). Melbourne just seemed very bland. I stayed with friends of mine and they were awesome, but I didn't feel a vibe in the city. Its also ridiculously expensive. I had a good time, but was ready to move on.
Trish picked me up to bring me out to my first farm of Australia. I got to some pretty rural places in Oregon, but this really took the cake. I was a nice 6km bike ride from the closest town, which had a coffee shop and a supermarket that closed at 2. The cover of the local newspaper had a picture of a horse buggy breaking down on the bridge stopping traffic for 2 hours. Echuca, the big town, is known for their steam paddleboats. I guess I've been looking for different cultures than those I grew up in. From selling diamonds in NYC to working on a farm in Nowhereville Australia is about as far as you can get.
This place was a real, though small, farm. Yes I helped tend to their garden, and do some other outdoor chores (help building a brick sidewalk, landscape gardening etc). But the main things going on were the cows. They were great. The fences on the paddocks; not so great. Everything is electrified (to keep the cattle in) and I managed to shock myself on them twice (once pretty bad). Nothing like going out in the morning when its barely above freezing and gripping the handles of the fencing wire to find out that there is a crack in one (which allowed it to conduct energy). To top it off, it was very wet. 7,000 volts will certainly wake you up in the morning. All in all, it was a good 2 weeks.
I made my way back to Melbourne and met up with a random CSer for a road trip. Coming to Melbourne, everyone talks about the Great Ocean Road. On the CS Melbourne board there were usually 2-3 threads a week organizing road trips there. Every Aussie thats been there raves about it. So Heather and I decided to rent a car and see what the fuss was all about. I have to say that I was very unimpressed. I would put it well below my holy trinity of road trips (Amalfi Coast, North Ireland and the Pacific Coast Highway near Big Sur). Only about 25% of the drive is actually against the coast. The rest you go through farmland and bush.
That said, we still had a blast. Taking a dip in the South Ocean was an experience (it was as cold as the water diving off the pier in Muff, Ireland), we saw tons of koalas. Just make sure to keep away from the fish n chips shop in Port Apollo (it will be a reminder of your trip the next week). To top it off, we arrived at Port Fairy and saw that the International (well, Oz and NZ) Sheepdog Herding competition was starting the next day. We camped out on the beach and checked out all the border collies in action the next day. It was amazing watching the people who went to the competition. I felt like I was in the deep south at a Walmart.
Speaking of deep south, that is where I am now. After the road trip I caught a ferry to Tasmania. It doesn't get much farther south than this. It is really beautiful and the first city I've been in is quaint (there really is no other word for it). I am considering chilling out here for a couple of months. I am planning on wwoofing some more, but I may get a room in an apartment and maybe find some work for a bit. So thats me in a nutshell.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Goodbye USA
I've been terrible. I know. Its been nearly a month with only one post, and that didn't really talk about my travels. I am chock full of new stories from the farm, but before I do that I have to bid a proper farewell to my travels in the states.
My last month in the states was a whirlwind of hitchhiking, couchsurfing and hiking. We headed out to Yosemite and did an amazing 30 mile hike there (the Beuna Vista loop if anyone is interested). The first day was ok, but then there was a 12 mile chunk of amazing vistas and beautiful lakes. We didn't do too many miles in a day; we took time to enjoy it. After that we headed to Monterrey on the Pacific coast. It was a bit rough getting there. Though we got hitches regularly, we ended up stranded in not such great places. Merced, Ca is not the type of place you want to sleep in a park, so we got a hotel room (almost 4 months of traveling, only one night in a hotel). We also got stranded closer to Monterrey and we spent a lovely evening in a bare field behind a Lowes.
The Pacific coast between Santa Cruz and Big Sur is my favorite place in the states. Its amazing. We had a relaxing time in Monterrey while we both got ready for the ends of our journey (for me, it was the end of that leg and getting ready for the next). After having a highway patrolman threaten to throw us in jail for hitchhiking (no wonder Cali's penal system is overworked), we got two amazing hitches straight to San Fran and made it to our first host; Lars.
Lars doesn't really have an apartment or house. He squats in an abandoned elementary school. Its awesome. Aside from the fact that we have to jump an 8 foot fence, it was great. (quick tangent: if it weren't for the two months of wwoofing and hiking, would there have been a chance in hell I could jump a fence? back to story). We had a great time there, smoking hookah and hanging out with whichever random CSers were there. Eventually though, we craved such things as doors (instead of fence hopping) and showers so we headed to Astro and March. They are a super cool couple and amazing hosts.
We really got to see a lot of San Fran. SF and NYC are the only two cities that have that great mix of different neighborhoods. Everyone goes to see Chinatown, but I loved the Mission and Haight areas. It is so much more fun for me to wonder around a neighborhood then go to some big tower or a museum.
So that was the States in a nutshell. I really have to thank all the amazing people we met along the way. The amazing hitches, the awesome couches and the great wwoof host/esses along with everyone else along the way. But most importantly, I had to bid adieu to Eva. We had an awesome time for a few months, but most good things have to come to an end. Its never easy spending so much time with one person on a trip, but it was well worth it. We really had a blast.
And I promise I'll get another post in right away about Australia.
My last month in the states was a whirlwind of hitchhiking, couchsurfing and hiking. We headed out to Yosemite and did an amazing 30 mile hike there (the Beuna Vista loop if anyone is interested). The first day was ok, but then there was a 12 mile chunk of amazing vistas and beautiful lakes. We didn't do too many miles in a day; we took time to enjoy it. After that we headed to Monterrey on the Pacific coast. It was a bit rough getting there. Though we got hitches regularly, we ended up stranded in not such great places. Merced, Ca is not the type of place you want to sleep in a park, so we got a hotel room (almost 4 months of traveling, only one night in a hotel). We also got stranded closer to Monterrey and we spent a lovely evening in a bare field behind a Lowes.
The Pacific coast between Santa Cruz and Big Sur is my favorite place in the states. Its amazing. We had a relaxing time in Monterrey while we both got ready for the ends of our journey (for me, it was the end of that leg and getting ready for the next). After having a highway patrolman threaten to throw us in jail for hitchhiking (no wonder Cali's penal system is overworked), we got two amazing hitches straight to San Fran and made it to our first host; Lars.
Lars doesn't really have an apartment or house. He squats in an abandoned elementary school. Its awesome. Aside from the fact that we have to jump an 8 foot fence, it was great. (quick tangent: if it weren't for the two months of wwoofing and hiking, would there have been a chance in hell I could jump a fence? back to story). We had a great time there, smoking hookah and hanging out with whichever random CSers were there. Eventually though, we craved such things as doors (instead of fence hopping) and showers so we headed to Astro and March. They are a super cool couple and amazing hosts.
We really got to see a lot of San Fran. SF and NYC are the only two cities that have that great mix of different neighborhoods. Everyone goes to see Chinatown, but I loved the Mission and Haight areas. It is so much more fun for me to wonder around a neighborhood then go to some big tower or a museum.
So that was the States in a nutshell. I really have to thank all the amazing people we met along the way. The amazing hitches, the awesome couches and the great wwoof host/esses along with everyone else along the way. But most importantly, I had to bid adieu to Eva. We had an awesome time for a few months, but most good things have to come to an end. Its never easy spending so much time with one person on a trip, but it was well worth it. We really had a blast.
And I promise I'll get another post in right away about Australia.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
A New Day
Well here I am. Australia. Home of the wild Aussies, awesome accents, vast outbacks and the most poisonous snakes and spiders in the world. Sure they speak English, sort of, but I feel like an outsider. The last time I was nervous as I got off a plane was 14 years ago. What am I doing here? Then I noticed the day; September 9th. Just September 9th for most of the world. But for 25 years, this was a really special day for me; Rosh Hashana.
The Jewish new year. I remember the days, either in my hometown or in the schools as I grew up. It is a time for introspection, and cultivation of self awareness. We look at ourselves in the mirror and see all that should be and, hopefully, all that really is. We flagellate ourselves then look to a new dawn, a new self. It doesn't matter what religion you associate with, if at all. We all have a time on the calendar where we look ourselves in the mirror and make commitments, promises, and threats to ourselves. Some are little things, some big; most, despite their size, are castles in the sky. In the past I've made countless commitments. Get in better shape, eat better, find a new job, go back to school, get more involved in altruistic activities, stop singing Miley Cirus songs in my head. Sometimes there is a slight improvement, but usually these commitments are distant memories within weeks.
Its really easy to forgive yourself or forget those commitments altogether. At least its easier to do that then to actually change. Once we leave our 'formative years' (unfortunately its rare to find a someone who can prolong their formative years much past the age of 20), we become creatures of our own habit. Those habits push us down a path that, the further along you are, becomes ever more irrevocable.
I have been a prime example of the quintessential creature of habit. People have asked me what prompted me to get up and leave my life behind. Why am I 'running away' from everything I know and love? I still love NYC, love my friends and family there. Yet all the things I love have become intertwined with a self that I no longer wanted to be. Its easy to say 'just make this small change' and build on it from there. How does one change the habits that define who you are? Is that a small change? Its not just 'eating a salad for lunch' type change. Do I stop going to my friend's place at nights for BBQs and beer? Do I turn my back on friends who I hold dearly and love to hang out with? The more I looked at myself, the more trapped I felt in my world.
As I looked at what I wanted to change about myself, I realized that these habits had become entirely intertwined with my essence. It was impossible for me to separate them and address them individually. I needed to change who I was. Start over completely. On June 22nd I made the first step. Left everything behind and started to make changes I'd been yearning to make for years. I was taking baby steps as I created new paths for my life to follow. When I started, I didn't really know where I wanted to end up. Its easy to come up with the negative aspects one wants to change from. But what exactly do we want to change to? Where do we want to end up? What are my ideals, the ones that should drive me and define me? I was so unhappy with myself, I couldn't even see those things.
Here I am now, in Australia. A new world, a new way of life. I am not looking at myself and deciding what aspects I want to change over the year. I feel untethered to the person, habits and all, that I was. I am now choosing what path I want to follow in my life. I may not have changed so dramatically yet, but I have gotten better pictures of where I want to go. I'm sure there will plenty of false steps and failed adventures. But for the first time in my life I feel like I am in full control of the path called 'my life.' It's exhilarating.
Here I am now, in Australia. A new world, a new way of life. I am not looking at myself and deciding what aspects I want to change over the year. I feel untethered to the person, habits and all, that I was. I am now choosing what path I want to follow in my life. I may not have changed so dramatically yet, but I have gotten better pictures of where I want to go. I'm sure there will plenty of false steps and failed adventures. But for the first time in my life I feel like I am in full control of the path called 'my life.' It's exhilarating.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Humanity 101: Hitchhiking
This has been a long overdue post. Every time Eva and I finish a trip, we marvel at the awesomeness of hitchhiking. It really is an incredible way to meet people.
Brandon - 45 year old wine distributor. Here was a guy in a pickup truck (with a washing machine in the back) who saw us trying to hitch down the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) in Oregon. He picked us up. He was only going about a third of the way to where we needed to go. As we drove along, he would stop at amazing vistas and give us some local pointers on cool stuff to see. When we got to the town he needed to go to, he decided to keep on going. He drove us the whole way. Went about an hour and a half out of his way. Pure kindness.
Pat - A 65 year old rancher driving a 25 year old Subaru with 220,000 miles on it. Hitching to Crater Lake, Pat picked us up. He was only going about 6 miles, but every bit helps. He was having such a good time talking with us, he drove us halfway to Crater Lake. It was about 4 hours out of his way. Here was a 'simple' man who bought a ranch when he was 23 years old. He worked his ass off for 20 years and paid off the mortgage on it. Now his kid runs it. Because there is no mortgage on it, he has no problem making a living on it. Then he bought an RV park and worked his ass off for another 15 years and paid off the mortgage on that. Now his daughter runs that business while he bought another RV park and works at that one. He spends his days working with long weekend trips riding his motorcycle up to the Yukon and Alaska. Sounded like the happiest man alive.
Mike - hardcore redneck. Pulls up in a beat up SUV with 'Fle Marcket' written on the side. He can't afford to drive us anywhere, but if we pay for gas he'll take us anywhere. His English wasn't too great and he had some weird ideas about stuff. Seemed real tough and alluded to his record a couple of times. But as we drove around the back roads, he kept pointing out all this obscure beauty. Seems like whenever he could afford the gas, he would just drive around the county stopping at pretty trees/rivers/streams/rocks/hills. After driving us he refused to take the money for the gas.
Ian - 20 year old punk rocker. Ian picked us up around the Portland/Cali border. We needed to get to Arcata, 50 miles south. Had a blast talking with him. We needed to get to a computer to find the address of where we were staying. He pulled off for dinner at a place with wifi, so we can use his computer. We find out that 1) our place to stay fell through and 2) the person who said they'd bring our stuff from the farm to Arcata (we were hiking and couldn't carry it all), left all of our stuff in Oregon. Ian offered for us to come with him to Sacramento (300 miles away) and crash with him at his friends. We ended crashing with him, Brittany and Dave for the night. It was amazing.
Greg and Lulu - Great couple with Mel, the Dutch guy, in the car. They managed to squeeze us into their little GTI. So it was five not so small (with the exception of Eva) people in a sub-compact. And a tiny dog. They were only heading about 30 miles down the PCH (we needed to go 130 miles) for lunch at Nepenthe, a famous restaurant. For the first time ever, Eva and I couldn't get a ride. We waited outside the restaurant for a couple of hours to no avail. We didn't have our camping gear on us (we were just going to a bonfire and were supposed to crash at someones place), so we couldn't just crash anywhere on our own. Greg and Lulu finished their meal and we decided to hitch back to Monterey with them. They owned a restaurant, and we all went there for dinner and drinks. The conversations were great, the company invigorating and the food was delicious (Hula's Island Grill if you ever make it to Monterey).
Couchsurfing put me on a path towards restoring my faith in humanity. It made me believe that people are inherently good and we shouldn't fear people just because they are different. Hitchhiking magnified this idea. While hitchhiking I couldn't look at their profiles, or read their references. I just put my thumb out and hope there are people out there with as much faith in humanity as I do.
There are. Plenty.
Brandon - 45 year old wine distributor. Here was a guy in a pickup truck (with a washing machine in the back) who saw us trying to hitch down the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) in Oregon. He picked us up. He was only going about a third of the way to where we needed to go. As we drove along, he would stop at amazing vistas and give us some local pointers on cool stuff to see. When we got to the town he needed to go to, he decided to keep on going. He drove us the whole way. Went about an hour and a half out of his way. Pure kindness.
Pat - A 65 year old rancher driving a 25 year old Subaru with 220,000 miles on it. Hitching to Crater Lake, Pat picked us up. He was only going about 6 miles, but every bit helps. He was having such a good time talking with us, he drove us halfway to Crater Lake. It was about 4 hours out of his way. Here was a 'simple' man who bought a ranch when he was 23 years old. He worked his ass off for 20 years and paid off the mortgage on it. Now his kid runs it. Because there is no mortgage on it, he has no problem making a living on it. Then he bought an RV park and worked his ass off for another 15 years and paid off the mortgage on that. Now his daughter runs that business while he bought another RV park and works at that one. He spends his days working with long weekend trips riding his motorcycle up to the Yukon and Alaska. Sounded like the happiest man alive.
Mike - hardcore redneck. Pulls up in a beat up SUV with 'Fle Marcket' written on the side. He can't afford to drive us anywhere, but if we pay for gas he'll take us anywhere. His English wasn't too great and he had some weird ideas about stuff. Seemed real tough and alluded to his record a couple of times. But as we drove around the back roads, he kept pointing out all this obscure beauty. Seems like whenever he could afford the gas, he would just drive around the county stopping at pretty trees/rivers/streams/rocks/hills. After driving us he refused to take the money for the gas.
Ian - 20 year old punk rocker. Ian picked us up around the Portland/Cali border. We needed to get to Arcata, 50 miles south. Had a blast talking with him. We needed to get to a computer to find the address of where we were staying. He pulled off for dinner at a place with wifi, so we can use his computer. We find out that 1) our place to stay fell through and 2) the person who said they'd bring our stuff from the farm to Arcata (we were hiking and couldn't carry it all), left all of our stuff in Oregon. Ian offered for us to come with him to Sacramento (300 miles away) and crash with him at his friends. We ended crashing with him, Brittany and Dave for the night. It was amazing.
Greg and Lulu - Great couple with Mel, the Dutch guy, in the car. They managed to squeeze us into their little GTI. So it was five not so small (with the exception of Eva) people in a sub-compact. And a tiny dog. They were only heading about 30 miles down the PCH (we needed to go 130 miles) for lunch at Nepenthe, a famous restaurant. For the first time ever, Eva and I couldn't get a ride. We waited outside the restaurant for a couple of hours to no avail. We didn't have our camping gear on us (we were just going to a bonfire and were supposed to crash at someones place), so we couldn't just crash anywhere on our own. Greg and Lulu finished their meal and we decided to hitch back to Monterey with them. They owned a restaurant, and we all went there for dinner and drinks. The conversations were great, the company invigorating and the food was delicious (Hula's Island Grill if you ever make it to Monterey).
Couchsurfing put me on a path towards restoring my faith in humanity. It made me believe that people are inherently good and we shouldn't fear people just because they are different. Hitchhiking magnified this idea. While hitchhiking I couldn't look at their profiles, or read their references. I just put my thumb out and hope there are people out there with as much faith in humanity as I do.
There are. Plenty.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
I Would Walk 500 Miles!
I woke up this morning and was able to stand up. No groans, no thoughts of leg amputations, no begging for forgiveness from the mosquito gods. I just got up. I know that doesn't sound like such a crazy phenomenon. After the last week though, that is fucking incredible. I just went on a shopping binge and my cart had the following: Hiking sticks, hiking sandals, water purification tablets, headlamp, knife. What the fuck happened last week?
Monday: Eva and I bid farewell to Myrtle Glenn Farms. Time to embark on our next journey. We hitchhike to Crater Lake National Park. Amazing hitches (I really have to write a post on hitching, its been eye opening). We manage to make a 4 hour drive in only 6 1/2 hours of hitching. We end up at Diamond Lake, north of Crater Lake. We pick up some shitty maps and head for the hills. As we are looking for a place to make camp, we realize that Diamond Lake's name should be Mosquito Village. Never in my life have I been subjected to such a fierce attack. One slap on your arm would kill 4 or 5 little bastards. Of course we don't have any repellent (I'm no boyscout) and we don't carry a tent. As we slip into our sleeping bags, hundreds of mosquito's swarm our faces. It was awful. I must have swallowed 10 of them that night. Its 9 days later and I'm still sporting the marks all over my body.
Monday's Score: 0 miles, 227 mosquito bites, 143 mosquito kills, 1 bad ass mood.
Tuesday: We wake up and start heading for the trail head. Our plan is to head up Mt. Thielsen then catch the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail) south towards Crater Lake. The PCT is a trail that goes from the Mexican border clear through to Canada. Its 2,640 miles long. Every spring hundreds of people start it on the Mexican border then make there way up to Canada (this year only 80 were left by August). It takes about 5 months. We have a tough time finding the trail head, but we stumbled on a place to buy repellent. After walking around a couple of miles and getting a hitch, we make our way up the mountain. Its a nice hike up. Unfortunately the combination of lack of sleep and altitude adjustment gave me a brutal headache. About 7500 feet up (which was a 5 mile hike) the trail intersects with the PCT trail. Then its another 2000 feet up that is really rough, so I skip that and wait for Eva (this way she can leave her bag there as well). Our plan was to take the PCT another 25 miles south to Crater Lake. But we bumped into one of the thru-hikers (someone doing the whole thing) and he suggested we skip the next segment then do the part just south of Crater Lake. Sounds like a plan. We hike another 6 miles down to the road that runs through Crater Lake National Park. We camp a mile from the road and plan to hitchhike to the lake the next day.
Tuesday's Score: 13 miles, 20 bites, 15 mosquito kills.
Wednesday: We wake up early and head for the road. I'm really excited because Crater Lake is supposed to be gorgeous. And I'm looking forward to not hiking for a day. We get a hitch with an awesome couple. They are just driving around the crater stopping at all the vistas. We got to see most of the lake in a couple of hours. They leave us off at the visitor center where we hope to get a map for the next hiking section. Time for a bombshell. The next segment is 52 miles (that was the gap between roads where we can hitchhike off of). Let me remind you that my biggest hike before this summer was 4 miles. I have three monster hikes of around 13 miles each under my belt, one of which we did the previous day (I was still feeling it in my feet)! I was not so comfortable doing it, especially when we were told there are 15-20 mile gaps between water sources. I can drink 5-6 liters of water a day sitting in front of a computer. Logic was saying that I should not be biting off this much to chew. But no one ever accused me of doing the smart thing. I figure what the hell, we may as well get some hiking in that afternoon. We reload our energy bar supply and head for the hills. It was scary and exciting at the same time and it got my adrenaline pumping. After walking the few miles to the trail head, we pounded out 8 miles of trail from 4-8pm. I was feeling great about myself and started to do some math in my head. The thru-hikers usually do about 28 miles a day (did I mention that they are crazy). I figured maybe we can pound out 20 miles a day and finish it off the next two days. We get to a decent place to sleep and make camp along with two northbound thru-hikers.
Wednesday's Score: 9 miles, 0 mosquito bites or kills, 24.7 liters of optimism.
Thursday: I'm an idiot. 20 miles a day?!?!? Who am I kidding. It starts off well, and I'm feeling great about it. It just so happens that all the thru-hikers are passing through the area we are heading southbound (they end up getting bunched up so that everyone that is left is within a couple of days of each other). We meet up with about 12-15 of them each day. Some of them are really interesting. They all give each other nicknames that they go by on the trail. We met up with a guy, Hasty, who biked from Virginia to Florida then to San Diego. After he got bored of biking he hopped on the trail (near Mexico) and was hiking for a few months. A killer version of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. The actual hiking is not too bad (no rough trails and not too much elevation). But the pain to the feet and legs is cumulative. After about 10 miles, I start to really drag. I'm also running low on water. We hit a break point about 2 miles from the next water source. My calves are on fire and the soles of my feet are starting to become 2 giant blisters. Hot, thirsty and grumpy. I stumble my way through the next couple of miles and gulp down a couple of liters of great water out of a nice looking creek. I have no interest in going farther. Fortunately there is a lake about 1/2 mile off the trail. Maybe it was the situation, but it was the most beautiful lake I've ever been to. One side of the lake was up against Devil's Peak, which was still feeding melted snow into the lake. The other side was shallow and warm. I went in and soaked forever (probably only 20 minutes, but who's counting) then made camp for the night.
Thursday's Score: 16 miles, 2 monster blisters, 847 cusses.
Friday: Hiking 16 miles sounds good, but then you have to wake up and do it again. At this point, part of me regrets getting started. But I'm halfway through, so there is no point in stopping. It is excruciatingly painful to put my boots back on and stand up. For the first hour I couldn't get my knees to work normally. Eventually I loosen up. We make it up and over Devil's Peak and saw some of the most beautiful vista's I've ever seen in my life. I'm getting into a hiking groove. The first 10 miles are moving well. Then I reach for a sip of water and realize that I'm running low. I bust out the map and realize that I have another 8 miles to the next water source. SHIT! Did I mention that I'm big and drink tons? I keep going, but at this point I'm nearing the point where my feet don't want to go anymore. Eventually I bump into Eva (she took an alternate trail that day) and we find out we still have a few miles to go. I ran out of water miles before. Who the fuck likes to hike anyways? Eva went ahead and filled the water bottles. She came back out and brought me a bottle. While she was gone was one of the scariest times of my life. In retrospect I know that I wasn't in real danger (even in bad shape, it takes much longer to pass out from dehydration), but that wasn't helping me then. We make it to the area where people camp near the water and find that there are no level spots. I'm tired, in excruciating pain, and feel like shit from the water situation. I just drop my mattress pad on top of some sticks and rocks and pass out. Throughout the night I'm reminded of the sticks and rocks every 10 seconds or so.
Friday's Score: 17 miles, 3 prayers to end me, 8 liters of water.
Saturday: The end is in site. Just 12 miles away. Did I really say "Just 12 miles?" I get up early and we set a pretty decent pace to start. There is a road ahead. And a shower (after three days my own smell made me come close to vomiting). Every step makes my feet feel like Paul's in Misery, but the end is nearly in sight. We make it to highway 140 around 3:30pm. Hallelujah (Jeff Buckley style)!!! We are too tired to walk the two miles to the campsite (where there is food, laundry and showers). Fortunately the first car stops and gives a ride in the bed of his pickup. We get there and slowly make our way back into the civilized world. They have a cafe there that sells "The Hiker" named after all the starving hikers that come in. Two half pound burger patties with all the fixings. How could I not order it. Of course my stomach has felt nothing but energy bars and pepperoni sticks the last 5 days and I couldn't even finish half of it, but that was Eva's fortune. There are a few other hikers there and we give them some tips (since we were coming from the opposite direction) about water sources. I struck up a conversation with a couple and got us a ride to start our hitchhiking down to California. But that is for another time.
Saturday's Score: 12 miles, 7 tons of relief, 1 monster burger.
Total Score: 4.5 days, 68 miles, 1 great sense of accomplishment.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Meat
So this last weekend was a pretty momentous time for me. One of the major goals of my trip is to be more 'personally aware' as they say in Buddhist thought (no, I'm not a Buddhist). I feel like much of my life experiences have just flowed around me, like Andrew's view of the world in Garden State. I am trying to get back to basics and build my personal structure from scratch. I am exploring many things I haven't looked at in years (if ever). One of the areas that I have looked into is the ethics of eating.
Ethics of eating is a very broad subject. It ranges from the basic questions, to balancing personal satisfaction with communal responsibilities. Should I buy locally grown food? What is the purpose of a CSA (though right now I'm living a couple of steps closer then local and CSA)? Many of these questions raise other questions. 'Should I eat organic food' leads to 'What the fuck is organic.' But the toughest question I've asked myself is "Is it ok to eat meat?"
I'm guessing that most of my friends and family are shocked that I am even asking that question. The first month in Portland and then wwoofing was brutal to adjust from eating meat once or twice a day to once or twice a week. But it is a fair question. Saying that we've been eating meat for millions of years doesn't mean that we shouldn't consider it. I was uncomfortable exploring the issue (not sure if I was ready to make a real conclusion), but that is what this trip is about; pushing myself.
I won't go into all the back and forth arguments I've had (with others and with myself) because that could take 20 pages of writing. I did come to the conclusion that I am comfortable with eating meat under one condition; if I find it so repulsive to 'prepare' my meal, then I shouldn't be eating it. I would not be able to tell myself that its ok to eat a product when I am unwilling to peal back the cover on the process it entails to create it. If it is so repulsive to me, I shouldn't be eating the end result.
Well this past weekend I had the chance to put that philosophy into action. The farm I am on had to do some 'goat herd management.' One of the mamas stopped giving milk and we needed to take care of one of the mamas and one male kid. To add to the personal factor, I got to know the mama, Anna, pretty well and knew the kid, Duke, as well. I didn't take the shot (it would be unfair, as I'm inexperienced and may miss the spinal cord), but I was there. Then I did all the skinning, gutting and butchering over the next few days.
I wasn't sure how I would react. I didn't want to toss my cookies (that would not have been in line with my natural machismo), but it was a distinct possibility that I would. Going in I figured there was a 20% chance I would be a vegetarian by the end of it all. That did not happen at all. I felt a little sad about it, and once or twice felt a pang of nausea. But overall I was ok with it. I didn't shy away from any part of the process. In fact, I started to wonder why I wasn't feeling more guilty (especially the next day when Tweety, Duke's mom, had more milk in the morning). I feel like I have come to terms with all stages in this circle of life.
Yesterday I made a pot of goat goulash. I prepared everything myself (harvested all the vegetables as well) and I was able to face my qualms. Sitting down to dinner was an interesting experience. It smelled great (if I do say so myself), and it looked like regular goulash. I felt no negative vibes, rather I felt a sense of ease. Everyone loved it (except the three vegetarians). There have been times when I've felt strongly about a dish (one that I slaved over, or a transcendent dish at a restaurant), but this time was different. I was completely in touch with what I was eating for the first time.
So now that I have the goat kills under my belt, its time to get ready for the next step in farm life. Beatrice Bear has been paying me visits at night. I am currently sleeping in a dome in the apple orchard. At night I hear her huffing and puffing and munching on apples until Oops (our dog/guardian angel) goes chasing her away. This is an unacceptable situation for the farm, especially with 400 people coming for Llamapalooza next week. Dave (the farmowner) is going to shoot Beatrice if she comes on the property this weekend. We cut down fire lanes (it felt like we were preparing an ambush for insurgents) and we will stake out the back of the field from the top of the chicken coop (I may be the spotter).
I don't feel too comfortable about this situation. The last month I have been much more in touch with animals around me. I wouldn't give it a second thought to kill a spider in my room before this trip. Not anymore. I am much more in tune with creatures roles in our ecosystem. Now I feel a tinge of guilt when I swat at a fly that is itching me. I know its a part of life out in the boondocks, but I don't have any issues with Beatrice. She hasn't bothered me (just scared the shit out of me last night). In the end I understand its about peoples' safety, but I haven't internalized it. Conceptualizing the danger of bears being comfortable walking around people is not something I ever thought about in NYC. We'll see how this plays out.
So here I am, with blood on my hands (though I finally showered last night), and OK with it. I hope its a step forward, not back, in my life.
Ethics of eating is a very broad subject. It ranges from the basic questions, to balancing personal satisfaction with communal responsibilities. Should I buy locally grown food? What is the purpose of a CSA (though right now I'm living a couple of steps closer then local and CSA)? Many of these questions raise other questions. 'Should I eat organic food' leads to 'What the fuck is organic.' But the toughest question I've asked myself is "Is it ok to eat meat?"
I'm guessing that most of my friends and family are shocked that I am even asking that question. The first month in Portland and then wwoofing was brutal to adjust from eating meat once or twice a day to once or twice a week. But it is a fair question. Saying that we've been eating meat for millions of years doesn't mean that we shouldn't consider it. I was uncomfortable exploring the issue (not sure if I was ready to make a real conclusion), but that is what this trip is about; pushing myself.
I won't go into all the back and forth arguments I've had (with others and with myself) because that could take 20 pages of writing. I did come to the conclusion that I am comfortable with eating meat under one condition; if I find it so repulsive to 'prepare' my meal, then I shouldn't be eating it. I would not be able to tell myself that its ok to eat a product when I am unwilling to peal back the cover on the process it entails to create it. If it is so repulsive to me, I shouldn't be eating the end result.
Well this past weekend I had the chance to put that philosophy into action. The farm I am on had to do some 'goat herd management.' One of the mamas stopped giving milk and we needed to take care of one of the mamas and one male kid. To add to the personal factor, I got to know the mama, Anna, pretty well and knew the kid, Duke, as well. I didn't take the shot (it would be unfair, as I'm inexperienced and may miss the spinal cord), but I was there. Then I did all the skinning, gutting and butchering over the next few days.
I wasn't sure how I would react. I didn't want to toss my cookies (that would not have been in line with my natural machismo), but it was a distinct possibility that I would. Going in I figured there was a 20% chance I would be a vegetarian by the end of it all. That did not happen at all. I felt a little sad about it, and once or twice felt a pang of nausea. But overall I was ok with it. I didn't shy away from any part of the process. In fact, I started to wonder why I wasn't feeling more guilty (especially the next day when Tweety, Duke's mom, had more milk in the morning). I feel like I have come to terms with all stages in this circle of life.
Yesterday I made a pot of goat goulash. I prepared everything myself (harvested all the vegetables as well) and I was able to face my qualms. Sitting down to dinner was an interesting experience. It smelled great (if I do say so myself), and it looked like regular goulash. I felt no negative vibes, rather I felt a sense of ease. Everyone loved it (except the three vegetarians). There have been times when I've felt strongly about a dish (one that I slaved over, or a transcendent dish at a restaurant), but this time was different. I was completely in touch with what I was eating for the first time.
So now that I have the goat kills under my belt, its time to get ready for the next step in farm life. Beatrice Bear has been paying me visits at night. I am currently sleeping in a dome in the apple orchard. At night I hear her huffing and puffing and munching on apples until Oops (our dog/guardian angel) goes chasing her away. This is an unacceptable situation for the farm, especially with 400 people coming for Llamapalooza next week. Dave (the farmowner) is going to shoot Beatrice if she comes on the property this weekend. We cut down fire lanes (it felt like we were preparing an ambush for insurgents) and we will stake out the back of the field from the top of the chicken coop (I may be the spotter).
I don't feel too comfortable about this situation. The last month I have been much more in touch with animals around me. I wouldn't give it a second thought to kill a spider in my room before this trip. Not anymore. I am much more in tune with creatures roles in our ecosystem. Now I feel a tinge of guilt when I swat at a fly that is itching me. I know its a part of life out in the boondocks, but I don't have any issues with Beatrice. She hasn't bothered me (just scared the shit out of me last night). In the end I understand its about peoples' safety, but I haven't internalized it. Conceptualizing the danger of bears being comfortable walking around people is not something I ever thought about in NYC. We'll see how this plays out.
So here I am, with blood on my hands (though I finally showered last night), and OK with it. I hope its a step forward, not back, in my life.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Vision Fulfilled
I came out west on this wwoofing adventure without actually knowing what it would entail. I had thoughts of farming, meeting people that will challenge me, and changing my lifestyle. My first two wwoofing experiences were steps in a direction I want to take my life. I learned a lot in my time at those places. But I didn't feel an emotional connection to my actions. But then I made my way down to southern Oregon and found what I was looking for. Experience thy name is Myrlte Glen Farm.
I figured this would be a new type of experience before I even got here. They have Llamas. Not for food or wool; just because.
So we show up last Saturday and are greeted by Mykael, the 'intern coordinator.' Dave (the owner) isn't around, so Mykael gives us the grand tour. During the tour we start to meet some of the others on the 'homestead.' There are three guys living here for the time being; Mykael (intern coordinator/working on mysterious project X) who lives in the house, James (musician, photographer, other misc. talents) who lives in the recording studio/yoga and workout room, and Baka (random 'get shit done' guy) who lives in the barn over the goats. I still don't know what Baka's real name is, but Baka is 'village idiot' in chinese and 'gross thing' in Czech. There are also wwoofers; Laura (lives in a tent) and Daniel (lives in the tree house). This already has the makings for an epic experience. We also got to meet Oops the dog (daughter of a 17 year old mom, hence the name).
We got here on the weekend, while the boss was away, so we played. After a lunch of leftovers most of us went down to the creek that runs through the property. We hoofed it for about a mile until we reached a waterfall with a great swimming hole. Came back and relaxed with some more leftovers for dinner (the night before we got here, Baka made a monstrous pot of beans that had to be worked down). Daniel is a great guitar player and Laura has an amazing voice (she's a good guitarist/banjoist as well). Sunday was similarly relaxing.
By Monday we were ready for real life on the farm. I woke up at six and joined Daniel for his daily task of goat milking. I decided to spend several days with him to get the goats comfortable with me (and vice versa) before doing it on my own. I tried it myself this morning, with no success. Laura takes care of breakfast every morning. So after the goat milking, we had a nice breakfast where Mykael gets the list of tasks for the day. At eight we head out to the garden/pasture/orchard to do whatever tasks we are given. We generally work until lunch (except the one person who takes on lunch for that day, who heads in an hour earlier to get it done). Lunch, and all meals, are announced by a bell. We break from 1-3:30 then head back out till around six thirty. One person gets dinner ready and we all sit down to eat around 6:45. After dinner we relax a bit and some of us head to the hot tub.
Meals are an affair here. There are a couple of vegetarians and one vegan, so we try to make vegetarian food. We also utilize a solar oven as much as we can for our cooking. About 80% of what we eat comes from the garden. Its amazing how much you can make on your own. All the greens, beans and corn come from the garden, eggs from the chicken (and chicken from the chicken now and then), milk, cheese and yogurt from the goats and fruits from the berry patches and orchards. It really is a challenge to cook like that. We have basic herbs and spices (grown here and dried), and other then flour, vinegars and oils we are on our own. The first meal I cooked here, I made curried lentils with broccoli, collard greens and okra. In my life I may have used those ingredients no more then once each. The next day we added flour and water to the leftovers, ground em up, and made burgers out of them.
The people are amazing here. Viola, another wwoofer, joined us a couple of days after we arrived. I feel like each person is different and challenges my perceptions in different ways. I have been thinking today that five years ago, I would have talked with these people for five minutes and thought they were crazy people. It makes me so much happier that I have broken from the insular communities I spent the first 25 years of my life in. To be able to listen to so many different perspectives on life and not hear them from an 'enlightened' stance that forces me to be dismissive, is great. I still have to working on be less dismissive and judgmental, but I am moving in the right direction. I feel like I will develop serious relationships with several of the people here before I leave. I won't be talking with Eva saying "what were those peoples names in southern Oregon?" in a year from now.
I haven't put a finger on what this place really is yet. It's part farm, part homestead, part intentional community. This is similar to a good couchsurfing experience. There are times you surf/host with someone and there isn't that connection that you hope to happen. Then there is the one time that after 20 minutes, you realize that you aren't surfing; you've just found a home for the time you are surfing. I feel more at home here then I have in years.
I'm going to stick around here for a couple of weeks. They are putting on Llamapalooza, a music festival, on August 14/15. I am amped up for that. I'll probably help clean up the day after then head south to northern Cali. I have more to write about, but I will hold off. The last two days have been a momentous time in my life. I need to dwell on my feelings before posting it.
So we show up last Saturday and are greeted by Mykael, the 'intern coordinator.' Dave (the owner) isn't around, so Mykael gives us the grand tour. During the tour we start to meet some of the others on the 'homestead.' There are three guys living here for the time being; Mykael (intern coordinator/working on mysterious project X) who lives in the house, James (musician, photographer, other misc. talents) who lives in the recording studio/yoga and workout room, and Baka (random 'get shit done' guy) who lives in the barn over the goats. I still don't know what Baka's real name is, but Baka is 'village idiot' in chinese and 'gross thing' in Czech. There are also wwoofers; Laura (lives in a tent) and Daniel (lives in the tree house). This already has the makings for an epic experience. We also got to meet Oops the dog (daughter of a 17 year old mom, hence the name).
We got here on the weekend, while the boss was away, so we played. After a lunch of leftovers most of us went down to the creek that runs through the property. We hoofed it for about a mile until we reached a waterfall with a great swimming hole. Came back and relaxed with some more leftovers for dinner (the night before we got here, Baka made a monstrous pot of beans that had to be worked down). Daniel is a great guitar player and Laura has an amazing voice (she's a good guitarist/banjoist as well). Sunday was similarly relaxing.
By Monday we were ready for real life on the farm. I woke up at six and joined Daniel for his daily task of goat milking. I decided to spend several days with him to get the goats comfortable with me (and vice versa) before doing it on my own. I tried it myself this morning, with no success. Laura takes care of breakfast every morning. So after the goat milking, we had a nice breakfast where Mykael gets the list of tasks for the day. At eight we head out to the garden/pasture/orchard to do whatever tasks we are given. We generally work until lunch (except the one person who takes on lunch for that day, who heads in an hour earlier to get it done). Lunch, and all meals, are announced by a bell. We break from 1-3:30 then head back out till around six thirty. One person gets dinner ready and we all sit down to eat around 6:45. After dinner we relax a bit and some of us head to the hot tub.
Meals are an affair here. There are a couple of vegetarians and one vegan, so we try to make vegetarian food. We also utilize a solar oven as much as we can for our cooking. About 80% of what we eat comes from the garden. Its amazing how much you can make on your own. All the greens, beans and corn come from the garden, eggs from the chicken (and chicken from the chicken now and then), milk, cheese and yogurt from the goats and fruits from the berry patches and orchards. It really is a challenge to cook like that. We have basic herbs and spices (grown here and dried), and other then flour, vinegars and oils we are on our own. The first meal I cooked here, I made curried lentils with broccoli, collard greens and okra. In my life I may have used those ingredients no more then once each. The next day we added flour and water to the leftovers, ground em up, and made burgers out of them.
The people are amazing here. Viola, another wwoofer, joined us a couple of days after we arrived. I feel like each person is different and challenges my perceptions in different ways. I have been thinking today that five years ago, I would have talked with these people for five minutes and thought they were crazy people. It makes me so much happier that I have broken from the insular communities I spent the first 25 years of my life in. To be able to listen to so many different perspectives on life and not hear them from an 'enlightened' stance that forces me to be dismissive, is great. I still have to working on be less dismissive and judgmental, but I am moving in the right direction. I feel like I will develop serious relationships with several of the people here before I leave. I won't be talking with Eva saying "what were those peoples names in southern Oregon?" in a year from now.
I haven't put a finger on what this place really is yet. It's part farm, part homestead, part intentional community. This is similar to a good couchsurfing experience. There are times you surf/host with someone and there isn't that connection that you hope to happen. Then there is the one time that after 20 minutes, you realize that you aren't surfing; you've just found a home for the time you are surfing. I feel more at home here then I have in years.
I'm going to stick around here for a couple of weeks. They are putting on Llamapalooza, a music festival, on August 14/15. I am amped up for that. I'll probably help clean up the day after then head south to northern Cali. I have more to write about, but I will hold off. The last two days have been a momentous time in my life. I need to dwell on my feelings before posting it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)