After a 15 minute experiment with my underwater camera, it appears I will be out of camera posts for a while, pending its return to functionality.... A friend told me to try some rice, so i guess Ill give it a shot...
otherwise,,, Things on the project are moving forwards, we are in the process of getting some aerial photos with which we (at this point I) will be creating maps of the community in which we are working (the community centered around Dos Bocas) in Bocas del Torro, Panama. The project is currently a preliminary study of the willingness of people living in the Comarca Ngobe to participate in a Reduced Emissions from Deforestation and Degredation (REDD) project. Wee are traipsing across the extant beaureaucratic framework, tenous as it is, in Bocas del Torro, getting information, maps and coordinating activities across different government departments. The process is resulting in getting a fairly clear image of the social forces active in the area, as well as complementary and competing economic interests that manifest in different attitudes and relationships with the environment. For instance, the main economic drivers in the area are agriculture (welcome to the home of Bocas Fruit Company, a major piece of Chiquita Banana), tourism, and a large marine fishery. Tourism and the marine fishery depend on the conservation of marine resources, whereas the fruit companies, think at least, that they need to fertilize, and apply aerial pesticides to their banana plantations to maintain a high profit margin. Should those practices change, i.e. responsible and ecological methods of agriculture being practiced, everybody stands to benefit... the trick of course being, a willingness of the agrigiants to change their practices. As is the story the world over, the paradigm of higher yield reigns supreme, though the alternatives, of ecological land management, have yet to be practiced on an appreciable scale (although they are being tested in some places). Thus we are faced with a choice resulting in definite environmental benefits and uncertain economic ones, can we really afford to not make that choice?
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Amalgams of belated thought, the work progresses, the world waits
Some said it could not be done, really, most said it could not be done. The park ranger scoffed, and gave some bogus account and psuedo terrifying story of rain, darkness, hunger and jaguars. Our host, the caretaker of the secret garden (Jardin Secreto), was also incredulous. Needless to say, after much encouragement from our friend (Kristin Fischer, aka KFi), as well as some tasty tidbits of knowledge from a Texas native english teacher, Jennifer (who told us that the annual race up and down Chirripo had a record time of 3 hrs and 20 minutes, much encouragement), we decided, that a one day peak and return was in fact, a good idea.
A late start (getting on the road, 2.5 k from the trailhead at around 6.20) was prompted by our burial in the valley, the sun had just broken the crest of the ridge as we shouldered our minimal gear (some water, some clothes, some tortillas, a tin of cherry wood smoked oyster, and a packet of walnuts) and proceeded on a brisk pace, summit bound. While I´ll leave the full accounting of the trek for a later date, let us suffice to say that at around 6.30 in the pm, a succesful summit attempt behind us (albeit in about 20 ft of visibility due to thorough ensconscement in water vapour), the light quickly fading we were still 10.5 k from home (a good 8 k from the trailhead). In our defense (maybe) we did have on lost (and found) backpack adventure about 2 k from the summit (during which I took a good 45 minute nap, waking up with a serious headache and feeling cold), and our headlamp had, sadly, been left at home. A stumbling kilometer from (7k to 6k) led us through near blackness to the realization that my camera´s LED light (for illuminating macro pictures) may have enough zing to light the way. A handheld bubble of light led us the rest of the way down to about half a klick from the trailhead, where our valiant source of illumination was finally exhausted. A stump and scuttlebut later (with no serious injuries), we limped into town to be greated by a local named Casper, who spoke a decent street english, fed us shots of Kosako vodka and arranged for his friend Luis, the owner of the Rockadura restaurant and hostel, to sell us a few beers "for the road." A bowl of granola and a hot shower later, we passed into darkness to awake at the crack of dawn to pack our limited luggage and catch the bus to San Isidro. While a full accounting of the vagaries of the Tiko travel system is beyond the scope of this narrative (at this time), it will suffice to say that Dave made his 2.30 flight back to Atlanta, and I am safe and sound in San Jose, at a friend named Marcos´ house, learning about freebording (check it out) and plotting good plans for the future.
A late start (getting on the road, 2.5 k from the trailhead at around 6.20) was prompted by our burial in the valley, the sun had just broken the crest of the ridge as we shouldered our minimal gear (some water, some clothes, some tortillas, a tin of cherry wood smoked oyster, and a packet of walnuts) and proceeded on a brisk pace, summit bound. While I´ll leave the full accounting of the trek for a later date, let us suffice to say that at around 6.30 in the pm, a succesful summit attempt behind us (albeit in about 20 ft of visibility due to thorough ensconscement in water vapour), the light quickly fading we were still 10.5 k from home (a good 8 k from the trailhead). In our defense (maybe) we did have on lost (and found) backpack adventure about 2 k from the summit (during which I took a good 45 minute nap, waking up with a serious headache and feeling cold), and our headlamp had, sadly, been left at home. A stumbling kilometer from (7k to 6k) led us through near blackness to the realization that my camera´s LED light (for illuminating macro pictures) may have enough zing to light the way. A handheld bubble of light led us the rest of the way down to about half a klick from the trailhead, where our valiant source of illumination was finally exhausted. A stump and scuttlebut later (with no serious injuries), we limped into town to be greated by a local named Casper, who spoke a decent street english, fed us shots of Kosako vodka and arranged for his friend Luis, the owner of the Rockadura restaurant and hostel, to sell us a few beers "for the road." A bowl of granola and a hot shower later, we passed into darkness to awake at the crack of dawn to pack our limited luggage and catch the bus to San Isidro. While a full accounting of the vagaries of the Tiko travel system is beyond the scope of this narrative (at this time), it will suffice to say that Dave made his 2.30 flight back to Atlanta, and I am safe and sound in San Jose, at a friend named Marcos´ house, learning about freebording (check it out) and plotting good plans for the future.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
buscaros los veinto frescos
The Quest For Fresh Air
Chapter 1, Leaving Hobbiton
The day is early and the sky is dark. A whole world is left behind when one embarks to Central America, and a new one is discovered. Good and bad, ill and healthy, hale, whole and disconnected. Get on a plane, allow yourself to be swindled and utterly dismember your sense of self, self confidence etcetera, go to a place where you don´t speak the language and allow yourself to be opened, literally opened to a new way of life and a new way of thinking.
In short, discover the scrub forest, the heat, the rain, the bugs and the humanity behind our existence on this planet. The ludicrity, the hilarity, insanity and the niceties of being a human being, a transformer of our habitat, and one with enormous potential to effect positive change. Cast aside the idiocy of self limitation, of socially constructed metaphors for existence and allow yourself to see things as they are. Pierce the disgust and disconnectedness of our sheltered little existence and ramble on through, and if, you are lucky, or if your quest is true, you might just find what you are looking for.
Chapter 1, Leaving Hobbiton
The day is early and the sky is dark. A whole world is left behind when one embarks to Central America, and a new one is discovered. Good and bad, ill and healthy, hale, whole and disconnected. Get on a plane, allow yourself to be swindled and utterly dismember your sense of self, self confidence etcetera, go to a place where you don´t speak the language and allow yourself to be opened, literally opened to a new way of life and a new way of thinking.
In short, discover the scrub forest, the heat, the rain, the bugs and the humanity behind our existence on this planet. The ludicrity, the hilarity, insanity and the niceties of being a human being, a transformer of our habitat, and one with enormous potential to effect positive change. Cast aside the idiocy of self limitation, of socially constructed metaphors for existence and allow yourself to see things as they are. Pierce the disgust and disconnectedness of our sheltered little existence and ramble on through, and if, you are lucky, or if your quest is true, you might just find what you are looking for.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
working in the working world
It's tuesday in the a.m. and the empty regurgitation of yesterday's thoughts and feelings are all too prone to catch you when least expected. In short, a world that is empty of true feeling and understanding will bear the consequences of its lack of connection to things that are Real. Hence, the advent of cubicle life... on to the next...
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Belated Tuckerman's Post
Amidst the hustle and bustle of life and family disentegration we managed to get a reasonably well put together trip up to Tuckerman's Ravine, the week of March 8th. Conditions were a bit dicey at times, though one day of fairly decent skiing was had, after the morning's rain on tuesday. The trip got off to a rocky start and we left significantly later than our 5 am ETD (see below, Lena serenely threatening to chop Nick's head off should he be unable to fix the ski rack), though we managed to get on the road once we had resolved our organizational and technical difficulties.
Driving at a steady 75 miles an hour, encumbered by the Thule and ski rack (and not our normal ~95), we managed to get up to N. Conway and get through EMS with even more winter gear, most notably the ice axes, which came in handy later.
Having made it, at night to Hermit lake shelters uneventfully (besides Vlad dumping his skis and boots trailside about halfway due to encumbrance) we settled in for some well deserved rest.
to make a long story short, we had one day of decent conditions (Wednesday), with high avalanche danger which kept us on the little headwall and the sherby. Air however, was fresh (not like PNW, but some of the best in NE), spirits were high and the food was incredible. Thursday found us with awaking from subzero sleeping conditions to a 0 degree day and absolutley 0 avalanche danger, as everything had turned to solid ice from Wednesday's rain. Such is fate. We skiid the lower snowfields anyways, as well as an insane variation of The Sluice, unfortunatley, without crampons, reaching the lip of the ravine was next to impossible, as it was, we were chopping out footholds on the way up. As it was, we survived to tell the tale, and I made my flight to Poland the next day. We plan or returning early april to revisit in friendlier conditions.
you don't get lichens like this in CT:
nor mountains like these (the view from my perch
newly dubbed, hootenanny's hotspot, before our
descent of the solid ice of Tuck's, march 12, 0 F):
Driving at a steady 75 miles an hour, encumbered by the Thule and ski rack (and not our normal ~95), we managed to get up to N. Conway and get through EMS with even more winter gear, most notably the ice axes, which came in handy later.
Having made it, at night to Hermit lake shelters uneventfully (besides Vlad dumping his skis and boots trailside about halfway due to encumbrance) we settled in for some well deserved rest.
to make a long story short, we had one day of decent conditions (Wednesday), with high avalanche danger which kept us on the little headwall and the sherby. Air however, was fresh (not like PNW, but some of the best in NE), spirits were high and the food was incredible. Thursday found us with awaking from subzero sleeping conditions to a 0 degree day and absolutley 0 avalanche danger, as everything had turned to solid ice from Wednesday's rain. Such is fate. We skiid the lower snowfields anyways, as well as an insane variation of The Sluice, unfortunatley, without crampons, reaching the lip of the ravine was next to impossible, as it was, we were chopping out footholds on the way up. As it was, we survived to tell the tale, and I made my flight to Poland the next day. We plan or returning early april to revisit in friendlier conditions.
you don't get lichens like this in CT:
nor mountains like these (the view from my perchnewly dubbed, hootenanny's hotspot, before our
descent of the solid ice of Tuck's, march 12, 0 F):
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