Chaitén Revisited

Chaitén? Yes, the name of a volcano and a nearby town on the Chilean coast. The volcano is making news again, following a devastating mudslide caused by an eruption last May.

In August I read an article in the New York Times about the flood and, of course, it all felt too familiar, particularly the photos of mud inside people's homes. Ever since, I could not remember where I had read the article, where the flood took place, and really whether or not I had dreamed the whole thing. So I'm happy today to be reassured that I'm not crazy. I am sorry, however, that the volcano is again threatening Chileans. I hope they have as much support as I had.
Tomas Munita took these photos for the NYTimes of the mudflood damaged homes of Chaitén, Chile.

An Apology to the Teakettle Gods

I've taken on a new project in my forced delayed-ness. I'm writing text for Manzanar's new virtual museum, a fun online project that combines professional quality photographs of objects in our museum collection, historic photographs and documents, and some really great text blurbs written by yours truly. Well, sort of. I'm basically cannibalizing text from our website and other NPS publications. Of course I wrote the text for our website three years ago, but I cannibalized then too. Anyway, it's a nice project that I can do remotely from the snowy north.

I've just come across the list of artifacts being featured in our Remembering Manzanar section, and one of them is a teakettle left behind at the Manzanar Cemetery - lots of objects get left behind at the cemetery, from paper cranes to toys to coins. This particular teakettle is painted brightly and festooned with a floral motif. The note attached reads, "Originally painted for display at Teakettle Junction but wanted to bring some sunshine, flowers and beauty to this sacred site. We are sorry that this tragedy ever happened and are here to pay our respects."

While I will not have space on the Virtual Museum webpage to expound on the significance of the teakettle, that is what the blog is for. Teakettle Junction is in the remote backcountry of the north section of Death Valley National Park (DEVA in government acronym parlance). It is where the Hunter Mountain Road(impassable due to snow in the winter) breaks off from the Racetrack Road (notorious tire-popper). Some years ago, or decades ago more likely, people started leaving teakettles on the signpost at this back of beyond junction. Perhaps it was first marked by early prospectors with a teakettle. Maybe a DEVA-ite can fill in the backstory. Anyway, my first encounter with said junction was in the winter of 2001 when I went out on patrol with friend Dan. Aside from coming across car with said popped tires (and after attempting a trip out to the racetrack another day with Ranger Laura until, oops, we popped a tire), Dan and I also discussed the teakettles. Dan explained that so many people left teakettles hanging from the signpost that occasionally he culled kettles. I naively asked if he delivered them to the park curator. "No," he replied. "I throw them away."

Fast forward six years. I decided my little red house on the creek needed some teakettle decor. Since it was a dry year (no snow on Hunter Mountain) and had a game partner in crime (Brian the Ranger, of all things), I decided it was time to go liberate some teakettles of my own. It didn't hurt that nearby Teakettle Junction are some great canyon hikes with things like petroglyphs and fossils. After a beautiful top-down drive over Hunter Mountain and down through the desert, we arrived at a rather busy day at the Junction. But between passing 4wd vehicles I managed to remove about 12 nicely decorated teakettles and stuff them in the back of the jeep.

Later we did visit some nice canyons and had a beautiful sunny day's adventure. Driving out, however, we were stopped by a DEVA ranger. We said hello and turns out we knew each other as he had come to Manzanar for the Pilgrimage once or twice. I had the teakettles poorly hidden under coats and blanket in the back, but I couldn't help thinking that if he noticed he was probably grateful. Saved him the trouble of throwing them away.

I took the kettles home and hung them in a nice line on the front of my little house. I've always thought that Teakettle Junction should have a rule that if you leave a kettle you have to take a kettle. Most of them were dated and not a one had been at the junction more than six months. So no guilt on my part.

Not until this past July when I, in fact, threw away my teakettles. After the flood, I removed as much from my house as I could - either saving it or dumping the unrescuables. Alas, the teakettles got the boot.

So I applaud Manzanar for curating this wild teakettle. Death Valley doesn't and probably shouldn't. But people make a special effort, decorating and leaving messages, in hopes that someone will hear their voice in the desert. This little kettle reminds me today of an extremely special place, the DEVA north country, and a unique culture of desert pilgrims.

Never Cry Wolf

While I have not sought out any movies this week, we did catch, on tv and in its entirety, Never Cry Wolf - in my opinion one of the most transcendent films I've ever seen. I feel like it is worth sharing the poem that graces the final scene, credited as an old Inuit song:

I think over again
My small adventures, my fears.
The small ones that seemed so big,
For all the vital things I had to get and to reach.
And yet there is only one great thing, the only thing:
To live to see the great day that dawns,
And the light that fills the world.

I'm always happy to be reminded of this precious sentiment. My 10th grade biology teacher, Larry Vredenburg, assigned us the task of seeing this movie in the local theater over our spring break holiday. I have seen it multiple times since. I can't say if it inspired my career in the environment, as it did my friend Tom, but it could not have hurt. If we are, as Gladwell argues, the result of innumerable environmental influences (forgive the simplification here), then I must believe that a seed was planted in that first viewing.

Time to Read

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. I'm off today with my Dad and his train buddies to Steamtown NHS in Scranton.

In my week with family, I have taken advantage of proximity to used book stores and free time to do some enjoyable reading. First of all, having been reunited with my copy of Quammen's Song of the Dodo, am plugging away at that again. I've also picked up another Mary Oliver volume and am enjoying more poetry and prose about nothing short of the meaning of life, gleaned through the filter of nature. Starting Reinhold Niebuhr's Moral Man and Immoral Society. He came recommended by a WWII professor I met at the Arizona. I'm hoping it will tell me something helpful in going to Africa. And best of all, I've read Malcolm Gladwell's Tipping Poing. He's a man who deals in patterns. He also has incredibly sexy hair. Yes, shallow, I know - but true. I'm interested in continuing with his other books, so we'll see how the used book stores pan out over the next three weeks.

I'm still on schedule to depart with my Peace Corps group on March 9th. Til then, more family and friends travel, more reading, perhaps a remote Manzanar writing project. Still working on getting the luggage down to 80 pounds. I've made 8 pounds of progress this week. And no recent reports on violence in Madagascar. Evidently there are UN folks conducting negotiations with the conflicted parties. Hope they're successful.

Notes from a Blubbering Idiot

That would be me.

On leaving Hawai'i, I managed to save the tears for the airplane lift-off with full sunny view of the Arizona Memorial, over Honolulu, and the crater of Hanauma Bay. Here in Independence, I've had less control as I've paid the price of progress - saying goodbye. "and the goodbye makes the journey harder still," sang Cat Stevens. The problem with emotion is that then I forget to say all the words of thanks that my heart feels. The specific thank you's - to April for her fearless pursuit of dreams; to Gerry and Shar (and so many others) for always opening their doors; to Brad and Amy for raising great daughters; to Maggie for having lived in NYC and always knowing what that means; and too many more to mention here. If I have neglected your gifts, please forgive me. My heart is overflowing.

On a different note, a story of good timing. Back in September the geologist who gave me the place to live for a few months gave a presentation to the state about our flood, from a geologic perspective. Tuesday night, he and a colleague presented a similar presentation to our community. Fascinating. And it gives me a new perspective. This was part of the building of an alluvial fan, those large triangular land forms coming out of canyons all over the desert southwest. They do occur other places, but geologists study ours because they are not vegetated - easy to study. Death Valley is renowned for its alluvial fans. So now I can say that I participated in the accretion of an alluvial fan. And my things are now part of an alluvial fan. Go figure. Perspective.

Last night was my going away party at the Mexican restaurant in Lone Pine that I like so much. It was great. Well attended, meaningful words, nice gifts. A really wonderful experience.

And today, finishing up some loose ends at work. Then flying east. I've had a special week of seeing people. And more to come when I get off the plane.

No, Rome is Still Burning

Delayed offically today until March 9th. I will continue with all plans as if I were leaving next week. Even though I didn't see a bobcat today, I thought about seeing a bobcat so that must count. Be patient.

Rome is Simply Smoldering

So far so good in Madagascar. While demonstrations continue, it's looking good that I will depart on schedule next week. You can read more about the situation in the New York Times.

Meanwhile I'm whittling my things down to the requisite 80 pounds and spending time with friends and family. And rereading David Quammen's wonderful The Song of the Dodo which deals with island biogeography - why we love Madagascar. I'm having another "pinch me" moment. People really get to do this?