Wild Turkeys and Big Rocks

Next step: road trip.

As we drive our scenic route to New Mexico, visiting family and national parks along the way, Jameson and I realize how much easier it may have been to plan an 8 month journey through North America, still seeing gorgeous country, different cultures, and learning. But, our budget would have to be at least triple, and it would not be nearly as exotic. Though, shedding exoticism would also mean avoiding uncomfortable encounters with parasites and such. I suppose each venture further into the unknown opens into both disquieting situations, and ideally, greater rewards.

We were fortunate to drive the Avenue of the Giants (weaving through groves of luscious old growth redwoods), visit one of my fave breweries (Lagunitas... yum!), and friends in the Bay Area en route to my mom and stepdad's house nestled in the western Sierra Nevadas. We got to check out a couple of wineries (Butterfly Creek was pretty super! - the owner even invited us to come help bottle the next day), hike in Yosemite National Park, and just hang out. It was a perfect visit in a beautiful place, with the oaks changing colors and the invigorating crisp fall air. Oh yeah, and she has wild turkeys that frequent her backyard.

... when turkeys knock at your back door...!

... us at a viewpoint on 4 mile trail, with El Capitan in the background.

Instead of doing the crappy Central Vally drive south yet again, we elected to take Tioga Pass east through the Sierra Nevada, as I have been itching to go to Mono Lake ever since I read Cadillac Desert a couple years ago. It was amazing. We reached the lake in the late afternoon, in time to catch the sunset illuminating the tufa formations.


Tufa is made when calcium laden springs flow up from the lake bottom. It bonds to carbonates in the water, and forms calcium carbonate (a type of limestone). Over time, this builds up into a 'tufa tower'. Because the lake level was reduced (when Los Angeles bought the water rights to all streams flowing into the lake), these towers are revealed here.


We completed the route over the pass (the highest drivable pass in California, at 9,945 feet) just in time, as the very next day the region was carpeted in snow, and the pass was closed.

Our route from here took us to more and more remote territory. I don't think we saw a town with a population that topped 30,000 until we reached Phoenix metro. Instead we saw the dry Owens Lake (also a relic of Los Angeles' overconsumption of water), BLM land, and open high desert areas embraced by mountains in the Owens Valley. This transformed into the warmer desert further south, and desolate territory traveling on 2 lane roads leading as far as the eye can see, uninterrupted by trees or cities. I didn't really let myself think about what would happen if the car had a problem. I wondered about who lives in these little old run down places, hours and hours from any large city, and likened them, at least in some ways, to the tiny Peruvian villages I encountered last year tucked away in forgotten corners of the Andes.

We navigated ourselves towards Phoenix via the north end of Joshua Tree National Park, and were fortunate to get advice at the visitor center about a fee-free place within the park that gave us respite from the long car ride... this was not just a little wheelchair-accessible .2 mile stroll, but huge granite boulders to climb! Jameson turned into a mountain goat and we played for a couple of hours in the warm sun. Oh, did I mention warm? We escaped the incoming storm to enjoy the first real sun I've felt since August. How completely revitalizing.

Boulder fun

Phoenix is a huge (5th largest city in the US) sprawling conglomeration of pavement and vehicles, dotted with peaks and buttes. We had a great time with my brother and sister in law - hitting up a dueling piano bar, a couple other hot spots, and Camelback Mountain. Camelback was a superfun and fairly challenging hike and in some places scramble up, but chock full of Phoenecians getting in their Saturday morning exercise. The most crowded northwest hike is tranquil in comparison.

We've now made it to our final US destination: Albuquerque, New Mexico! Time to spend time with Jameson's family, and finish our preparations.

South to Sunny California

Everything has seemed to start off on the right foot.

First stop: Portland, to see Jameson's brother, Julian.
As you can see, they seemed to have a great time together. Julian made a superb dinner. It was the first realization that, well, we're not going home!

Wednesday itinerary: PDX to Big Lagoon County Park, CA. During our lunch break, we pulled off 199 at a sign that said "Botanical Walk" and saw the endangered and endemic Darlingtonia californica (by the way, this is my new favorite plant genus to say), aka, the California pitcher plant. There are two main awesome things about this plant: it grows in serpentine soils where other plants cannot survive, and it is carniverous. Since it gets its nutrients from bugs, it is able to survive in places with extreme soil conditions.

Another random stop in northern Cali gave us a magnificent Roosevelt elk viewing. This, again, was a hint from a road sign that said, "elk viewing area." Surprisingly, there was this herd of about 20-30 elk, and the males were all going at it to be the one in charge. Evidently its the tail end of rutting season, and we got an amazing show!

The day ended at Big Lagoon, a gorgeous park north of Arcata. Unfortunately I didn't really break out the camera, but the moon was nearly full, and when walking on the long spit, to the west was the crashing Pacific, and to the east, a calm lagoon. We practiced putting up our hammocks that will be our beds when we're camping in SA, and slept in them for the first time.

About the blog

Naming things takes a lot of thought. I'm pretty bad at it, admittedly. I never named the garden I put in at the school. My cat came adorned with a name. Names are so laden, and I think they can end up confining the named.

There were many ideas I hoped to capture in figuring out the URL for this blog, making it even more challenging to determine something appropriate. Tambien, quisimos llamar el blog en espanol, pero not so obscure that our English-speaking friends would find it obtrusive. So I was excited when Jameson and I came up with the URL / blog title, "Diversidad de Vida [diversity of life]", I feel that it addresses so much of what this journey encapsulates: diversifying our own lives while learning about the way people live in different areas and how they counter place-based societal and environmental challenges. Also, it conveys our interests and future postings about biodiversity and ecological interactions in the breathtaking ecosystems we will encounter.

Saying Goodbye to Kennedy Creek Chum

Today we left Olympia.

It was with mixed feelings: sentiments towards the house, the garden, and all the work we've put into it alongside excitement for closing a chapter and opening a new one. As we closed in on getting every last thing out of the house it became very evident that change was imminent and things would not be the same - ever. I noticed a cedar at the top of the hill that we planted a few years ago, now five feet tall, and the alders by the front bridge, now 20 feet tall, seedlings when we moved in. I noted the creeks changing morphology, and the restoration work we've done just in the past year that has begun to flourish. A part of me questions why I would leave the paradise we've built, and then I recall the restlessness stirring within me, the desire to see new places and collect new experiences.



After the final goodbye to the house, and tying up loose ends in town, we paid our final tribute to the salmon at the Kennedy Creek Salmon Trail. They return to the stream throughout the month of November. A few years back I did research on salmon and Kennedy Creek (since its upstream portion is in my backyard), and I've done many wanderings, drawings, photographs, and wadings in these waters, so the creek and the falls are very close to my heart.

I've been here at the cusp of October/November before only to find a couple chum here and there, but with the rains we've had in the last couple of weeks, I had a feeling the fish would have started swimming upstream. In my favorite viewing area there were many courting pairs.


My most vivid revelation was that the fish we saw today were likely from the eggs that hatched the year we moved in to the house: chum typically return to their home streams to spawn between 3-5 years of age. It gave me a sense of closure, and acknowledgment that a new page is turning. Salmon not only contribute to ecosystem health in the literal sense, but embody a metaphorical story of life in their ageless cycle in the Pacific Northwest.