Over the holidays I spent almost two weeks in New Jersey, the land of my birth. Whenever I return to the east coast, I feel as if I have reached civilization. Although I pride myself on not being one of those uppity mofo’s from the east coast who believe nothing can exist outside the Northeastern bubble, I do feel as if I’ve returned to civilization when I see glitz and glamour of the Northeast corridor from my plane window. When my plane is descending into Newark and I peer out my window, I sigh a breath of relief upon seeing the lights of the Empire State and Chrysler buildings. (more…)
January 13, 2008
January 12, 2008
I celebrated New Year’s in the wonderful city of Seattle. It didn’t rain when I was there. Well, until the morning I left and my plane was delayed. Whatevs, I had two full, beautiful days in Seattle and was almost convinced to move there after grad school. Here’s the thing—Seattle is a great city. There’s a great neighborhood feel to it, and yet it still has big-ass buildings to make you feel like you’re somewhere important. Yes, I do require big buildings to make me feel like I’m somewhere worthwhile. Big buildings convince me that I’m part of civilization. It’s a personal thing, probably resulting from living in small towns outside of New York for most of my life. (more…)
November 24, 2007
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Hey there. Jealous as I am that you are all in Minneapolis having fun without me, I have to admit that, well, I love Paris. In the Spring, presumably, but also now: (more…)
October 1, 2007
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This weekend, I drove about three and half hours upstate to the “Cry of the Loon” lodge, for the annual Creative Writing department September retreat (and, this is the second to last retreat EVAH, which is sad). The cabins were right on the lake: i.e., the lake was mere steps away, unlike my family’s cabin in Canada, where the lake is located down a perilous slope. Minnesota is, famously, the land of a thousand lakes (more…)
September 27, 2007
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I have come to the righteous conclusion that rainforest suck.
They are valuable, perhaps even crucial to the continued existence of life as we know it. They are home to an unparalleled diversity of species. They host a wealth of medicinal plants that modern science is only now beginning to learn. They house countless cultures, some of which stand the peoples least affected by globalization.
And they suck.
As the name implies, there is the constant rain to deal with; you become soaked almost immediately, regardless of protection or the amount of current precipitation. What is not soggy from sky, vegetation, or sweat quickly becomes musty and damp from the humidity.
Vegetation is so think that travel must be accomplished either on trails or on waterways, the latter by boat or by wading. Firstly, no matter what anybody says about macheteing a trail out of dense forest, it’s a bitch. Secondly, due to the nature of rainforest, any trail you do succeed in clearing turns instantly to a long, narrow mudhole, and is then soon recolonized by vegetation unless steady traffic or maintenance beats it back.
Boats typically work well, if you have one. Most visitors are lucky to have a raft or canoe, which are fine for dinking around, but are less than ideal for daily work. Oh, and ‘typically’ does not apply to the twisting, rocky rivers of B.C., because you can’t get a boat through boulder rapids in four inches of water. But that’s why you brought chest waders! Because you really enjoy twisting your ankles on unseen and uneven stones and salmon carcasses, trying to avoid grizzlies in the one place they are sure to be found and where they are also unable to hear or smell you, walking kilometres at a stretch against flood currents, every day. Except it’s not every day, because the river floods when it rains and you can’t get to your study sites anyway.
Speaking of not being able to reach the study sites, why am I here again?
September 22, 2007
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I write now from the coast of British Columbia, in the midst of the Great Bear Rainforest. I am sitting on a couch with a cup of coffee at my elbow and the smell of fresh-baked cookies in the air. To say that I am roughing it would be something of an exaggeration. In my defence, however, I will add that this is my first day off in two weeks, and the first in the same period where I have not paddled and dragged a canoe through ten kilometres of estuarial river. While the smell of chocolate oatmeal cookies (yes, I bake) is certainly a pleasant one, I can assure you that the rotting carcasses of hundreds of pink and dog salmon is less than enjoyable.
I am currently employed by Round River Conservation Studies on behalf of the Heilsuk First Nation and the land they control. Myself and two others (and I use that number loosely) are collecting data on grizzly bears and salmon in this, the Kvai, watershed. [Note: while the river appears as ‘Koeye’ on the maps, the Heilsuk spell it ‘Kvai’ and pronounce it ‘Quay.’ We defer to the Heilsuk.] The data we gather will be added to years of research in forming a Conservation Area Design, which the Heilsuk will refer to when making decisions affecting land use and wildlife policy. Distillation: we field biologists slog through the rivers and forests, counting fish and collecting bear hair off barbed-wire snares.
The Kvai is special for a number of reasons. The Heilsuk have used this watershed for thousands of years, both as a source of food and materials, but also living on its banks in many temporary camps and villages. Four species of salmon (no Chinook) still run this river in good numbers, though are much affected by sport and commercial fishing in the area. The mouth of the Kvai forms a small protected bay, which supports a variety of marine life that tend to be quite scarce in this area. It is also one of the few watersheds in all of coastal B.C. that has never been logged. Though we can look out the window of this lodge and see cruise ships plowing through the Inside Passage, the low mountains around us are still dense with giant spruce, fir, hemlock, and ceder, the undergrowth so thick as to be nearly impenetrable without sweaty hours of machete work. For us, travel is restricted to the waterways, the few blazed trails, and a few meters up along the banks.
So why am I sitting in comparative luxury? The Heilsuk bought a lodge that had been used to house fishermen-tourists back in the day. Now it is used primarily for a summer camp for tribal children, but is also rented out for events ranging from company retreats to weddings. We are based out of the lodge because most of our work is on the lower river and is accessible by canoe and one main trail. We have some sites at Koeye Lake, about fifteen kilometres inland from here, and we camp on the shore while we are there.
Given that the only power we have here is from a small generator, I will cut this post here and give further updates as warranted and possible.
To you all out there, stay warm and dry, and don’t get eaten by bears.
September 1, 2007
My precocious parents retired early at 55 and moved into a New Jersey retirement community (sorry, “55+ active adult community”) by 58. I shouldn’t have been as surprised since our house mantras were “There’s only so much time!” and “Always be prepared.” Like a cross between an anxious military and a group of boy scouts, our family was always early and could adapt to most situations. I just didn’t anticipate dealing with this move while I was still in college. The housing market was hot, though, so my parents made the plunge into active adult living a week before I turned 21. (more…)