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Most weeks, I venture out of our mountain stronghold into the autonomous republic of Fresno, in search of groceries. It seems ironic to me that despite Fresno’s size and location in the huge agricultural production center of the valley, I’m still eating Washington apples.
Does that still count as local?
The Prince of the Marshes: And Other Occupational Hazards of a Year in Iraq, Rory Stewart’s second book, is a depressing read. Detailing Stewart’s time as CPA governor in two of Iraq’s southern provinces, it gives a clear view of the mess of politics in the country. Despite intentions, any action taken by any party is turned negative, or at best futile – demonstrating the failure inherit in a people who do not wish to be governed, being governed by a people who do not wish to govern.
Yesterday (the first day of my weekend), I was tapped for a SAR. I was told to be ready for 48 hours in the backcountry at 0645 today. Despite messing with my laundry plans, I was excited for the chance of a little excitement – free helicopter rides are always a welcome addition to my weekend. So, I get my pack together and prepared for a few days, only to hear that, a few hours later, they found the guy.
Next time…
Jason Robert’s A Sense Of the World is a biography of James Holman, the Blind Traveler. Living in the early 19th century, Holman traveled the world, not letting his blindness come in the way of his successful career as a writer or his circumnavigation of the globe. I found the book itself to be wanting in detail – the sense of adventure in his travels is often missing – though this is more likely due to the lack of source material than the author’s talent. For those stricken with a case of wanderlust, or, as Roberts so skillfully puts it, the “freedom of abandon”, this account of “poet turned warrior turned wanderer”, the clear predecessor to Burton, is a recommended read.
The difference between journalists and writers is that journalists report events after the fact, constructing images from rumor and hearsay, presenting it as fact. Writers live in the moment. They pen what they see, hear, feel, taste, and smell – not purporting it to be fact, but only what was experienced.
Sarah Chayes begins The Punishment of Virtue: Inside Afghanistan After the Taliban as a journalist and ends as a writer: the difference is starkly obvious. As such, I found the beginning of the book slow and mundane, but the rest an exciting and rich source of information. Overall, the book is a marked second to The Places In Between, but her summation of the history of Afghanistan, focusing particularly on the city of Kandahar, is well worth the read. And her exposure of the weakness of the Karzai government, the meddling of Pakistan, and the critique of post-Taliban U.S. policy is a crucial piece of insight into the region’s modern standing.
I returned today from Ranger Lake, the first of my overnight trips here in the backcountry. One of the many perks of this job is that I have access to all the caches hidden here and there. At Ranger Lake, there are two bear boxes filled with sleeping bags, cookware, a stove, full EMS kit, tent, bivy bag, folding chairs, and other odds-and-ends. I prefer my own sleeping bag, but other than that I need only to hike out with water and food, and still be able to live comfortably in the wilderness.
Surprisingly, the mosquitoes at the lake weren’t bothersome at all, but there was a relentless swarm at the stream I stopped at this morning to filter water. Overall I think I was bitten by more ants than anything else. I wonder what diseases they carry…
All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible. This I did.
- T.E. Lawrence
One of the sub-district rangers is out of town this week, so I have use of her unmarked car. The Powers-That-Be don’t like me driving the marked cruisers around, though I transported one through the park a week or so ago. The reason they give me is not that I may misrepresent a federal agent, take advantage of the lights or sirens, or speed off with a few thousand dollars worth of government property – none of those logical reasons. What they tell me is that the stripes are provocative, and I may be shot at. Personally, I think the unmarked vehicles are more provocative, what with their GSA plates, antennas, and hidden lights barely visible through the windshield. It has that sort of undercover I’m-stalking-you look to it. But, I’m glad to have use of the car, instead of burning my own gas or relying on rides from the other Rangers. (Not to mention, everyone pulls over and lets you pass when they notice the plates.)
Today, I drove myself down to the Lodgepole area, with intention of taking a jaunt down to Alta Meadow: a respectable 5.7 mile (one way) hike, with 2,000 feet elevation gain. At the junction where the trail splits, the right heading to the meadow and the left to Alta Peak, I decided it was still early enough to give a try for the peak – despite the protestations of my trail map (“very strenuous…don’t undertake this trail unless you are in good physical condition…one of the most strenuous trails in the western half of Sequoia National Park.”) From the junction, the peak is only about 2 miles away, but in those two miles awaits 2,000 feet of rocky elevation gain.
I did make it to the 11,204 feet summit and the views (this being my first time in the high Sierra) were stunning, despite the haze of pollution from the West.
For your enjoyment are some pictures and videos taken along the way (any chattering in the background of the videos is my radio).