Right in the Feelz – Not cool

Apparently I am horrible at labeling my own blog posts, because I couldn't find what I was looking for, and finally had to resort to a word search through the entire catalog. Finally found it only to discover, I never really talked about it much. I thought I had. Well, I'm doing it now! Also I have a lot of dead links to fix.

First off, I had been kicking around in my head for over a year now a post about a few "rock" band singers that usually scream or otherwise distort their voice that actually have beautiful singing voices. Muse front man, Matt Bellamy, Disturbed's David Draiman, even James Hetfield of Metallica before he blew his voice, and then of course the one and only Chester Bennington, the main singer of Linkin Park. He was going to be front and center. I say was because he committed suicide last Thursday (July 20th, 2017). There have been quite a few celebrity/famous deaths recently (famous people are always dying, just like the rest of us), but his hit me hard. Really hard. I was utterly shocked. I didn't want it to be true. I couldn't listen to any of their music for almost a week. I couldn't bring myself to do it. His death hit me more than Robin Williams did back in August of 2014. I wrote about that a bit here. Celebrity deaths don't really bother me too much. Carrie Fisher's was hard, but hers wasn't a suicide. But Chester... I don't know... god, I loved his music. And thinking about his wife, kids, and his friends/band mates just makes me even sadder. I have briefly talked about the band here before. That's what I was searching my blog for in the first place. Here and here.

Secondly, I am going to totally nerd out now about Linkin Park. You've been warned. Apparently you either love them or hate them. I was/am a lover. I was first introduced to them back in my college days at HSU by a friend. I was a passenger in her car, where we were going, I don't remember but she was playing their first album, Hybrid Theory. She was totally excited and in to it. I think she was even screaming along with Chester. I could be wrong though, my memory is a bit fuzzy. I remember not hearing anything like it before. They blended rap with hard rock with hip hop and electronic/synth stuff. It was just really cool and dark and edgy. And I was hooked. So thanks Crystal for that car ride to wherever and sharing them with me. I do also remember them being played on the radio A LOT! And so I bought their albums, first on CD because back then, there was no itunes, only napster. Remember napster? Dang, that was a long time ago. Dear god, I'm so dating myself. When did we get OLD? I currently own all their albums: Hybrid Theory, Meteora, Minutes to Midnight, A Thousand Suns, Living Things, The Hunting Party, and One More Light, and a few singles: What I've Done and New Divide. Which is all their studio albums. They have done (which I don't currently own) remixes of a few albums (most notably Reanimation, which is a remix of their debut Hybrid Theory and Recharged, a remix of Living Things) and more recently they released two albums of both instrumentals and acapella versions of Living Things and Hunting Party, which are pretty interesting. Weird, but interesting. They also did a collaboration with Jay-Z, but I don't like him, so yeah. Oh and some live concerts. I realized today that they are the only music group that I "grew-up" with. What I mean is, they debuted Hybrid Theory in 2000. I was a senior in college at HSU. The band members and I are pretty much the same age. Everything was new and exciting and our worlds were expanding at the same time. We were on a journey of self discovery and all that stuff. Too corny? I don't care. As they matured and evolved and experimented through the years, I had been too. We grew-up together. We were suppose to grow old together, too.

These past weeks since Chester's passing, I've been listening, downloading, and watching a lot of their stuff. They really are a bunch of crazy talented, a little nerdy, compassionate, funny, and genuinely nice group of guys. They started and/or funded many charities, started a recycling company in Haiti, performed countless charity and fundraising concerts. They all can play multiple instruments and program/sample. Joe Hahn, the DJ, is also a video and film writer/director, and visual artist. Mike Shinoda, the rapper/singer, is also a songwriter, record producer, and graphic artist, and has another band, Fort Minor. And Chester had another band, Dead by Sunrise, fronted Stone Temple Pilots for a few years, and had some movie credits as well. They rode the wave of digital and social media like masters. They are amazing. There's even a Linkin Park game app you can download! Check out their website LinkinPark.com and youtube channel. There is so much there. It's a blessing in a way that they filmed and documented so much of their life as a band. I have certainly spent many many hours watching their LPTV videos on youtube.

So all of this about Linkin Park and Chester to say, Goddammit. I've said here before, so it shouldn't be a surprise that I suffer from depression. I am not medicated for it as of now. I also suffer from anxiety and can/have had panic attacks. I am fortunate to have inherited depression from my mother and anxiety from my father. Thank you so much. Not their fault really. One who suffers from diseases like these can listen to Linkin Park and say, "they get me", "these guys understand what it's like". I can choose countless songs from them over the years to play for you as a demonstration. The things that go on inside of a depressed head can only be understood by another. Chester had demons, he had no shame in admitting to them and was very open about his struggles. Music was his cathartic outlet. You felt it when he sang. I certainly did. Why is it that so many of the most creative minds are also the most self destructive?

(It has taken me three days just to write this. I need to do it. I just don't want to. Keep having to stop to cry.)

I've been trying to work my way out of my own destructive mind for a good while. I got into a slump and then just kept slipping down further. I had some bottom light bulb moments, and would vow to change and do the ole pull yourself up by the bootstraps thing, and then days and then weeks would go by. During this time I had gained all the weight back that I had lost. I outgrew all my clothes, because I had purposely donated all my old "fat me" clothes. I have one pair of jeans, two pairs of shorts, and about 7-8 shirts that fit right now. I have refused to buy new "fat me" clothes. I heartily believe I am crawling back out. First was that I spent two weeks in the field monitoring archaeological sites where dead and/or hazard trees were being logged. I didn't want to go out there. Remember me talking about anxiety earlier? But it was me, or no one. So I went. The two days before and the first day were not fun for me. It forced me to be outside. It forced me to interact with other humans. And it made me realize that I don't fit into any of my field clothes. I was doing good. I got some much needed vitamin D and socialization. I got home from that job, turned my laptop on, and got suckerpunched. I've felt horrible ever since. Thank you to my hiking buddy though with whom we had already planned a hike for the weekend. The hike, again forced me outside and to socialize and not hole up in my room all weekend in a ball. And then I did the miraculous. I put my running shoes on and ran. Everything hurt again. Feet, ankles, knees, hips, even the boobs flop around too much, and their small! And then I ran again, and again. And again.

I will keep mourning the loss of the man who has had a huge impact on my life. Who finally silenced his demons the only way he could.

You hid your skeletons when I had shown you mine
You woke the devil that I thought you'd left behind
I saw the evidence, the crimson soaking through
Ten thousand promises, ten thousand ways to lose

And you held it all but you were careless to let it fall
You held it all and I was by your side, powerless

I watched you fall apart and chased you to the end.
I'm left with emptiness that words cannot defend
You'll never know what I became because of you
Ten thousand promises, ten thousand ways to lose

And you held it all but you were careless to let it fall
You held it all and I was by your side, powerless
                                                  – Powerless by Linkin Park

I'll keep listening to the music. And I'll keep crawling out. I'm not done yet. I've still got some roads untraveled. And maybe I'll write that post about his voice someday.

Well, that sucked

Every once in a while, quite often actually, I'm reminded of my genes. The specific gene this time is what I like to call, "I know you love to travel so I'm going to make you puke because I care" gene. I do not travel well. I've known this for a while now. It has gotten worse with age. As a kid I could be in the back seat of a car for days, through mountain roads, eating junk food, and playing games. But now I can't even do that. I can get sick in a car, plane, train, or boat. I have puked in a car, out of a car, in a van, off boats, in boats, in planes, even off a kayak in New Zealand, but not in a train yet... that's the one moving vehicle I have yet to check off the list. This behavior really blows for someone like me who likes road trips, and exploring the world. So I prepare myself. I make sure I have something to puke in, if needed. I choose aisle seats on planes for easy access to the bathroom, or window so I can see outside if I'm flying during daylight hours. I don't read while in any type of moving vehicle, I bring drugs, don't eat anything "exotic" or spicy. And I try to get sleep before hand. But this doesn't always work.

This past Friday I was to go do a small survey near Clear Lake, California for my job. So I got everything packed up Thursday and had everything ready to go, so that all I had to do Friday morning was get up, get dressed, and head out the door. I tried to go to bed somewhat early (for me that's 11pm), because I needed to be out my door at 5am. So I had a snack of popcorn and a glass of wine (to make me sleepy). At around midnight, I puked it all out in my toilet. Great. So I didn't sleep much. I got up and got out the door on time anyway. I felt nauseous, so didn't eat anything and didn't drink my coffee, and stuck to just water. I left this early because I needed to stop in Berkeley, (company office) to pick up the work truck because it is a 4x4 which we would need. I also left that early to avoid sitting in traffic for 3 hours. Well, I avoided traffic. I got there by 6:45am. So no one was in the office to give me the truck keys. I parked in the garage where the company truck was and took a nap till 7:30. I still felt nauseous. I texted my project leader and she was just getting off BART, so I walked to the office and met up with her to get the keys. I thought, hey, I'll be a bit early now to meet with my co-worker in Lake County. Sweet. I get back to the garage and move all my stuff into the truck and turn it on and see the low tire indicator light come on. So I get out and walk around the truck and sure enough the left front tire is low. I call my project leader and tell her, I don't feel comfortable with a low tire even if it's just a slow leak, I don't want to have to fill it three times in a day. I tell her I'll inspect it for any nails... and there it is, a nail in the tire. Crap. She starts calling rental companies, and she finds one that has a truck but can't confirm if its a 4x4. I unpack the truck and repack my car and walk back to the office. I give her back the keys, we decide to risk the rental and have them deliver the rental truck to their closest office which is 5 blocks away. So I walk back to the garage, pack up my stuff and strap it all onto my backpack and walk to the truck rental office. My project leader forgets to give me the utility company gate key, so she walks the 5 blocks too to meet me at the truck rental office. I get a Chevy Ram 1500 4x4. I'm impressed, and my project leader is so impressed she takes a picture to show everyone back at the office. Of course it's out of gas. So I fill it up. $75.00 later, I'm finally on the road again, and it's almost 10am. I text my survey partner (whom I've never met yet) and give him my new ETA and warn him that I feel like crap and may puke.

I'm still nauseous. I still haven't eaten anything, and still just sipping water. I have to stop twice on the way because I thought I needed to upchuck. I didn't either time. By around 11:30, I start to feel a bit better so I decide I could risk eating a handful of Cheerios, and a sip of my coffee.

I finally pull into our meeting spot, Cache Creek Vineyards, at 1pm, which is 2 hours late from our original meet time and meet my survey partner for the very first time. Archaeologists can spot other archaeologists from a mile away. We are all geeky nerds dressed in hiking boots and outdoor wear, and smell of sunblock and sweat. My survey partner is tall, skinny, and sort of lopes when he walks, so I'll call him Dopey Walkingstick. From here on out is where we will need the 4x4. We drive not even a tenth of a mile before even the 4x4 truck can't go further. There was no point in it. The "road" to our survey spot was not a road. Normally it's a road/creek bed. But because California actually had a rainy season, it was washed out and impossible to drive. So we decide to hike it. It's only about 2 miles to our survey spot. The creek and road weave over each other countless times and is very rocky and unstable. I only slipped once and fell once on our way up. I skinned up the palm of my left hand and thought, "this still hurts, why"? I look down at it and find a thorn sticking in my palm. Great, this is going to be so much fun. We finally make it to where we have to leave the "road" and start up a canyon. There's no trail, no road. We are reliant on our maps only (my GPS unit, and Dopey Walkingstick's ipad with external satellite booster).

We climb, bushwhack, double back, and climb some more. By the time we finally get to our survey spot, I'm exhausted and almost out of water. I drop my pack, and we survey around this one stupid lone distribution pole out in the middle of buttmunch nowhere.

We're done in under 10 minutes. It only took 2 hours to hike there. I sit down to write out our field form, and realize that the trek back will be excruciating. By now I have a headache as well as nausea. Thankfully, the trek back won't take as long because it will be all down hill and we know the way. I took one last picture to remind myself that even though I felt miserable, it's beautiful out here.

We take off back down. I'm slower now, and Dopey Walkingstick is ahead of me and has to stop several times to wait for me. I fall two or three more times. I've now skinned both knees and scrapped up both arms, and I'm out of water. We are about 1 mile from the truck when I stop and puke up all that water (no Cheerios). Dopey Walkingstick see's this. Oh joy. I stand back up and keep going. Not five minutes later, I do it again. Dopey Walkingstick see's again. I keep going. Head down, just keep walking. Just keep walking. We finally get to the useless rental truck at 4:30pm. I sip a bit of water I had in the truck. We get back to where we left Dopey's car and I can't help but feel bad for him. He either thinks I'm a lazy, out of shape, stupid, useless slow poke who shouldn't have been an archaeologist, or a complete hardcore fucking rock star who doesn't let puking her guts out keep her from doing her job. I hope it's the latter, but more than likely the former sadly.

After Dopey leaves, I stay by the useless rental truck for a bit. It takes me about 10 minutes just to change out of my wet boots and into dry shoes. I stand there another 10 minutes waiting for my stomach to calm down. It doesn't. I puke again. I decide I need to get going. I can't stay here. I now have the shakes or chills, but I have to move. I get in the truck, roll the window down all the way, get my puke bag ready, and tell myself, I just have to get to I-5 where there are hotels. I can get a room and just crash. Just get to I-5. I make it to I-5 in about 30 minutes. I've stopped shaking by now. I stop at a gas station and hobble in to get Gatorade and smart water. I know I have to replenish. I'm not too nauseous by now, so I decide to try and get to Berkeley. If I need to stop, I can, since I'm back in civilization.

I make it to Berkeley by 7:15pm. I drop the useless rental truck off at their office and dropped the keys in their after hours box, then walk down to my company office to drop the utility company gate key though the mail slot, and then walk to my car in the garage. I pay the garage fee, text my project leader that I've dropped everything off and that I'm on my way home. I roll my car window down all the way and get on the road for home. I just keep thinking of my own bed. I finally roll into my driveway a bit after 9pm. I tell dad it sucked and that I'm taking a shower and then going to bed.

I think I slept a good 10 hours. I hate days like that. So yeah, that sucked. But I'm still alive. Bruised body and ego, but alive to tell the tale. Oh and to add insult to injury, I had a letter from the IRS waiting for me when I got home saying that I'm being audited.

My Peak Challenge 2016: What happens when you fail

So what do you do when you fail at something? Cry? Eat junk food? Stay in bed all day? Drink copious amounts of alcohol? What do you do when you fail at something big?

If you have read this blog before then you know I participated in something called My Peak Challenge last year. I wrote about it a few times. If you don't know what it was or need a refresher, click here for the beginning and here for the end result from last year. This year was of course bigger, better, and more bad-assery. It kicked off in January and culminated for the entire month of May. There was a facebook group formed for all the participants and a two month long prep program that ran from February through the end of March that included meal prep, menu's, and an exercise program with videos and tutorials. We were to pick our challenge and had the entire month of May to complete it. And of course all the while we were raising money for cancer research. I signed up for it all. I was so excited to do it again. I got my MPC 2016 t-shirt, bought the prep program and followed it every day for the entire two months. I even found and bought a rowing machine from craig's list. All the while I was trying to decide what my May challenge would be. I decided that this year it wouldn't be a physical challenge but a professional one. I kept quiet about the whole challenge this year. No weekly blog posts about good running music or embarrassing work-out mishaps. I didn't want to blurt out what my challenge was going to be. I wanted it to be a surprise.

When I left archaeology originally, it was to pursue opening a small business. My dream was to own and operate a used bookstore and gelato shop. So I started to pursue it. I wrote a business plan, started collecting books, went to classes sponsored by the SBDC (Small Business Development Center) and my local Chamber of Commerce. Learned how to make gelato from a real Italian. I put it on hold when I realized I needed money I didn't have and then my mom got sick. Well then she died, and I started My Peak Challenge 2015 last year. My sister bought me out of our house, I moved into dad's house, and I cashed out my archaeology 401k. All of a sudden, I now had money. So let's do this. Time to get this dream out of the clouds and a reality. That was going to be my May challenge. To find a building in downtown for my shop and get the necessary loans needed to get it up and running. So that's what I did. I rewrote my business plan, found the building I wanted, got my real estate agent on it, and went to a local non-profit that specializes in small businesses and their funding and the bank with my applications.

The non-profit said, "sorry, we won't fund you at this time, too high risk". The bank said the same thing. This wasn't just some normal big bank. Big banks won't even look you in the eye without coming to them with a multi-million dollar deal. I was just asking for $400,000. The bank I went to is one of the local community banks that specialize in small businesses. I tried SBA loans which are government backed and got no answers. I then asked my sister and brother-in-law to go in on it with me thinking they have collateral that I don't have and have incomes that I don't so surely the bank would like them better. Nope. The way that banks and any other financial institutions work these days are not for the common person. They work for huge conglomerates and the big money makers. They will not invest in small businesses. They just won't. They make it so hard. You have to front up to 50%, have already been in business for 3-5 years, etc. So how is someone suppose to start up, when no one will lend? You don't.

I failed. There are a ton of articles about how the current U.S. economy has killed small businesses and entrepreneurs. Google it. Read this article from Time magazine. Could I get investors? Sure, but then I have to do what they say, pay them back at their interest rate, on their terms. It wouldn't be my business, it would be theirs until I payed them off. Could I crowd fund? Sure. Could I get $300-400,000 that I need? No.

I failed. The U.S. economy failed. The only way to be an entrepreneur now is to be a 1%-er trust fund kid. And that, I am not. You have to do it outside of the traditional route. And even then you are taking a big risk. I was willing to take the risk. No one else was.

So what do you do when you fail? When your dream is dead in the water? Well, you keep getting up in the morning. You keep putting your clothes on. You keep going to that job you hate. You keep eating food. And you run. Run till you can't go any farther. You run till your tears stop flowing. You run with the music so loud you drown out the negative voice in your head telling you that you suck and you're a looser. You run. And you keep running. And get up the next day and do it all over again. Because sometimes, that's all you can do.

I did not succeed at this years My Peak Challenge. Not everyone did. Some people had to have surgeries. Others had to stop because they are on chemo treatments. Some got injured. Did these people give up because they failed to reach their peak this year? Hell no. They get up every day and go to physical therapy or to their chemo treatments. They keep going. And so will I. I will keep getting up every day. I will run because that is all I can do.

I failed. My dream of being a proud small business owner may be over, but I'm still here. And for now, I'll keep running.

I'm still an archaeologist... sometimes

So besides my barista job at the coffee shop, I have another job. I write cultural resource reports for a friend/former co-worker/now boss who got a big-wig job. I get to write these little ditties at 3am if I choose, and clothing is not a requirement either. This all means, I work from home, remotely. Well, I actually got to do a little survey earlier this week for them. I haven't done any field work for well over a year. So when a writer of these reports or agency says a survey should be done before work can commence (hence writing the report in the first place), one of us remote writers gets to go play in the outdoors.

I got to go to Wishon Reservoir. Where's that, you say?

It's like driving to LA, only the destination is much prettier and a hell of a lot less people. Now way back in the day, I did this drive a lot. I think the last time I was in the southern sierra's was over 3 years ago when I got to play at the bottom of Shaver Lake. I've talked about the Sierra's quite a bit here on the blog. See here for one example. Well, I'm impressed I remembered how to get through Madera, and that my little putt putt made it up The Grade on Hwy 168. There are so many dead trees. So, so many. The drought and bark beetles have done a severe number on this forest. If a wildfire happens here this summer, it will be completely devastating. It will char this mountain to the core. So anyway, you drive up to Shaver Lake and then hang a right and head to Dinky Creek. I've been to Dinky Creek before, but have never actually been as far out as Wishon. The farthest I had been was Camp Fresno, and I thought as I drove past it, that from here on out will be new. What an adventure. And I saw little bits of snow still on the ground. Probably not there anymore, since we're in a heat wave. I think my ears actually screamed when they finally popped. Oh, the pressure release was amazeballs!

Well, I made it to the campground where I was going to camp. Pulled into a site I liked, and got the tent out. It took me a minute to remember how to set it up, but I got it. Man, I forgot about the bugs. I finished setting up camp, ate what constituted as my dinner at the picnic table and went straight back into my car because it was the only safe place from the Jurassic sized mosquitoes. I got bored waiting for the sun to set. So I bundled up (to keep the mosquitoes from draining me dry) and walked around a bit, but I mostly played games on the ipad.

my little campsite

if we weren't in a drought, this would all be water

So, I went to get in my tent for the night, and apparently I put it on the lovely home of the FIRE ANTS! My little tent was covered in them. Oh, hell no! So I didn't sleep in my tent. I slept in my car. It was very uncomfortable, and too hot because I couldn't roll the windows down for fear of Jurassic mosquitoes. Miserable night.

Woke up the next morning to sunshine and less mosquitoes. I ate breakfast (a crappy Starbucks frappacino thingy, applesauce, and a granola bar) and got ready to go find my survey location, a random distribution pole. Found it. Surveyed around it. Took lots of pictures of it. Was impressed that I remembered the names of the vegetation around it (trees, shrubs, and even wildflowers). I gave myself a pat on the back for that one. And I filled out my survey notes.

It was all done and over within 30 minutes. Well, shoot, now what? I'm all the way out here and it isn't even 9am. Well, I'll regret not seeing the reservoir. So I went over to the boat launch and stared at the water for a while.

Hello, Wishon

And so my little turn as archaeologist was over. But the adventure wasn't quite done yet. I got everything packed back up into my car, including the tent with FIRE ANTS, and started the drive back down the mountain. I had missed it on the way up, but drove passed this famed spot.

you have bars? no, you?

I do, if I stand on the truck.

I texted a good friend, not at this spot though, even today, my phone did not have any bars, and asked her if she wanted to have lunch. And so I turned little putt putt to Fresno. I rolled into her driveway just before noon. I got a tour of her awesome house. And spent a few hours with her and her awesome little human. Her husband, who was once upon a time, my work-husband, and in a round-about-way now I work for, had to be all responsible and go to some important work meeting thing or whatever and missed out on my presence. To bad for him. I got his wife and daughter all to myself.

I then drove the rest of the way home. Unpacked the car, including the tent with FIRE ANTS. I put the tent back up in the backyard. The hot trunk killed the FIRE ANTS (yea) and only carcasses remained (double yea). But I still needed to air out and dry the tent. I did laundry, showered, picked spinach for my sisters chickens, and uploaded my notes and pictures to the company server.

I sat around and thought, I still got this. I still know how to do this. That was fun. And oh man, did I have the best sleep in my comfy big girl bed that night!!

Trekking Volcanoes: Wright Peak of Mount Konocti

While idling after My Peak Challenge ended this past March, I was searching the internet for something to do physically. I didn't want all that work to go to waste. And I was coming down off of a high and sitting on my ass instead of working out. I needed a new goal to reach. Something to commit to that would keep me focused and working out. A few things happened. I found that climbing California's 14ers (peaks over 14,000 ft) scared the crap out of me, especially when people started mentioning ice axes and ropes. Summiting California's volcanoes (20 of them) sounded much more doable, and only one of them, Mt. Shasta, is also a 14er. And a Facebook/twitter group that I joined during My Peak Challenge decided to do a new "challenge" for May.

So, it is mid May now, and I am almost half way done with the May challenge. I'm on track! And this past Sunday I and my cohort completed our first volcano summit. Our adventure is as follows:

Balls! After mentioning on facebook my idea of climbing all of California's volcanoes, only one person said she was totally down with doing it with me. Crazy, I know, only one. I asked if she was serious, and low and behold, she was. She is fascinated by profanity and uses the word balls as a swear word. Although her favorite word at the moment is dick, I will stick to calling her Balls. Balls lives in Santa Rosa. For those of you not from California, it is north of San Francisco by about 55 miles. While researching which volcano to do first, I decided we'd best go for the closest one first. That happens to be Mount Konocti on the shore of Clear Lake in Lake County.

Red Arrow=where I live, Blue Arrow=where Balls lives, Black Arrow=Clear Lake/Mt. Konocti

Here's a quick blurb from the USGS: Clear Lake Volcanic Field is located about 90 miles north of San Francisco, California. The town of Clear Lake lies within the volcanic field as does much of the 43,000-acre fresh water lake of its namesake. The Geysers steam field, which sits at the southwest margin of the volcanic region, is host to one of the world’s most productive geothermal power plants, producing enough electricity for 850,000 homes. The heat driving the geothermal system emanates from a zone of partially molten rock (magma) deep below the greater Clear Lake volcanic system. The most prominent volcanic feature is 300,000 year-old Mount Konocti, rising about 975 m (3,200 ft) above the southwestern shore of the lake. The most recent eruptions occurred about 11,000 years ago around Mount Konocti. Although Clear Lake volcanic field has not erupted for several millennia, sporadic volcanic-type earthquakes do occur, and the numerous hot springs and volcanic gas seeps in the area point to its potential to erupt again. Monitoring in the Clear Lake region by the USGS and a collaborative effort with Calpine Corporation in the Geysers Steam Field, provides real-time tracking of earthquake activity. In addition, the USGS periodically analyzes volcanic gases and hot springs in the region.

I drove up to Balls' house Saturday night, forgot my phone, left it charging in the wall, and slept on Balls' couch. Woke up with her roommates dogs face in my face. Sunday morning we drink coffee. Coffee is important. We go to Whole Foods for snacks, and then leave for Kelseyville, where Mt. Konocti awaits us. We drive into town and turn down a road that turns to dirt. There is no signage telling you that there is a county park at the end of the road, let alone a freaking VOLCANO! Lake County is severely lacking on proper signage. This you will note is a frequent subject while Balls and I were on the trail. Balls was also somewhat shocked that I had an actual camera. Even if I hadn't forgotten my phone, it isn't a "smart" phone. So yes, I'm old school and carry an actual camera.

Look, we can take double selfies at the same time. We are awesome.

Mount Konocti is made up of five peaks (Howard Peak 4,286 ft, South Peak 4,286 ft, Buckingham Peak 3,967 ft, Clark Peak 2,880 ft, and Wright Peak 4,2999 ft). There are no trails to Clark or South peaks. Much of the area is private property. We hiked to the top of Wright Peak, which is the highest. There was a sign for the fork to Buckingham Peak, but there was absolutely no sign, post, or marker telling you that the road on the left would take you to Howard Peak. We saw it just fine from the top of Wright Peak anyway. Apparently Lake County decided having bathrooms, picnic tables, and benches everywhere was way more important than say a water spigot or proper signage telling you where the hell you are. Thank the spirits both of us printed out the crappy trail map and I had my pilfered GPS unit. Someone left it where I work and never came back to claim it. It sat in our backroom for a year. So, I'm sorry, I'm going to take it and use it. Balls was getting worried that she may not be able to make it up to the top, so we stopped at some of the many random benches for some breathers.

We finally made it to Mary Downen's cabin. Who? And why did she build a homestead on the side of a volcano? Well, once again, the signage wasn't great here. Apparently in 1903, a year after her husband died, her son-in-law Euvelle Howard (as in Howard Peak) took her up Mount Konocti on horseback and she fell in love... with the mountain. She staked a claim and paid a whooping $600. A cabin was built and she began homesteading... alone. There is no streams on the mountain and eventually she had a cistern built and her son-in-law Euvelle planted her orchard. Apparently her son-in-law moved up there. Balls and I debated why her daughter didn't move with him and talked endlessly about them most likely having an affair, but that kind of wigged us out. Ew. Euvelle is apparently buried near the homestead. The crappy signs say he is buried 500 ft from the cabin with a large "obvious" boulder with his name and dates carved in it. They even provide waypoints. But there is no path. So we plug in the waypoints into my pilfered gps and off I go uphill, off trail, looking for the "obvious" boulder. I never found him. Why the hell tell people he's up here and all and then not provide a way to actually get to him?? I don't get it. And why is he buried here and not Mary? What ever happened to her? We have no idea. We had to look her up on the internet during dinner. Found where she is buried. She's in Lakeport and shares her husbands marker. So she was buried on top of him, or next to him. I don't know. There is hardly anything about Mary on the internet. It's all the same little bit on every site we could find. She seemed like a very interesting person. Who decides to homestead on a volcano as a widower in her 50's in 1903? She sounds awesome. I want to know what happened to her. How long was she on the mountain? Where's her privy? How did she die? There is nothing! Now, there is obviously some archaeological records out there on her homestead. They fenced off her cabin and dump and there are pin flags everywhere. So those of you who still have access to CHRIS can maybe help a girl out?? Yes?

Mary Downen's Orchard

Anyway, we walked through Mary's orchard debating what kind of trees they are. Again, no signage saying anything about that. I said fruits, Balls said nuts. Of course she did. I think we were both right. We got eaten by mosquitoes, so dicided to get back up on the trail to our summit... after a pit stop at a random bathroom and picnic table.

We made it to the summit of Wright Peak! Great views. Top of the world... or Lake County anyway. While I was taking this pic of Balls, she took this one.

There is a fire lookout and cell tower on the top. The fire lookout was closed in 2005, technology and all that made it useless to stick a person up there 24/7 during fire season. There are some interesting stories about this mountain/volcano but I will spare you. I will say that I'm impressed that the Pomo name for the mountain remains. As with most of the history of white settlers, army, and Indians, things did not go well for the Pomo and Wapo that call this area home.

Clear Lake from Wright Peak

View of Howard Peak from Wright Peak

Balls' best Capt. Morgan pose

Our summit selfie

Our experience of Mt. Konocti has only wetted our appetite for more volcanoes, despite us being in Lake County and their lack of trail signage. We realized that both of us have forgotten much of our botany skills and need to brush up on them, not that we had any to begin with. And we need to do more pre-field research and learning before our next volcanic adventure. So 1 down, 19 to go.

My Next Fitness Challenge, lord help me

As you can see by the picture on the left, I've decided to do a new "challenge". During the #MyPeakChallenge I did starting in January and culminating on March 14-15, I joined a Facebook group called The Peak Posse. It's a group of mostly women who did My Peak Challenge where we give support, offer advice, and tell each other our horror stories about getting healthy and fit, etc. The group also fundraises for the actors in Outlander (tv show) chosen charities. My Peak Challenge raised money for Leukemia and Lymphoma Research which was Sam Heughan's chosen charity. The Peak Posse has decided to continue on and do a new challenge for Caitriona Balfe's chosen charity which is World Child Cancer.

The new challenge starts May 1, and lasts just this month. The 100 part can be anything you want. Write 100 letters, walk 100 miles, be able to do 100 push-ups by the end of the month, etc. Here's the scoop from The Peak Posse: Hope you don't mind me posting it here.

Dear Peak Posse Lassies,
In request to a new "challenge" we have come up with "Cait's Bikini 100 Challenge to Knock Out Childhood Cancer". (I know a mouthful right?) So for short lets just tag it as the "Bikini 100 Challenge".
As the title suggests, this challenge will help the lovely Caitriona's charity as WE prepare for bikini season. Just as we did with My Peak Challenge, each person will set their own individual challenge and their own donation rate.
The challenge will start May 1 and end on May 31st. That's right lassies, you have 30 days to complete your challenge.
Now you ask, "Why the 100?" Right?
Well YOU will chose what 100 physical or mental challenge you want to complete. For example, I want to walk 100 miles in May, or complete 100 sit-ups or squats in May, or knit 100 items for charity. Are you still with me here? GOOD!
Now for each #1 of the #100 you complete you will make your donation into Cait's jar. So if I'm going to donate $1 for every mile I walked, then I would place that amount in Cait's jar as I complete it (you can donate whatever you are able to do. More or less is fine).
Now what the heck is Cait's jar you're thinking! Am I right ? Haha Each person should take a jar or box or whatever you have and decorate it for the challenge. We will include a way for you to print off a pic of our bikini logo and ask that if you feel moved to, please change your profile pic or avi on twitter to the logo...

...On June 1 we will all donate our funds...
One more thing we are asking you to use the hashtag ‪#‎PPBikiniChallenge‬ on twitter.
I hope this is relatively simple to understand. We wanted to make it a short challenge that would be fun and would support Caitriona's wonderful charity as well.
Good Luck You Lovely Lassies! You know we are all here for support so post away on the goal you set and your progress.

I've chosen to run 100 miles the month of May. That's 31 days, 100 miles. I'm scared I won't be able to do it, but that's the point of a challenge isn't it? Since My Peak Challenge ended, I've had a hard time keeping up with the exercising. I've been kind of lost, with no goals to achieve, etc. The Posse Sisters want those of us doing the challenge to have a jar and decorate it however we like to put the money we raise in. So since I am running 100 miles, every mile = $1.00 in the jar. At the end, I plan on donating half to World Child Cancer and the other half goes to my funds for new hiking boots. I can't remember how I killed my last pair of boots. Back when I was still an archaeologist full-time, I went through a pair a boots a year. They are expensive. And I will need a good pair of boots for my upcoming adventures that I haven't told you all about yet... but I will, soon, I promise.

So, wish me luck, or have me committed to the looney bin, which ever works best. This will certainly be a challenge.

Almost forgot, I stopped weighing myself last year. I honestly don't know how much I weight. I came to terms and accepted that the amount I weigh is not important. How I feel and look is. So during the My Peak Challenge I exercised my ass off. And I started noticing muscle and such. Anyway, the other night, a regular customer came in where I work and commented that he noticed I had lost weight, and he wanted to commend me. I was shocked that anyone even noticed anything. The changes I saw in myself were, I thought, small. He made my night. I have shrunk a size in jeans I think, since I now need a belt. So woo hoo. Off to go run my ass off some more!

Picture(s) Number 8

The Not So Random Photo Project:  In honor of poppy season and cherry blossoms.


Even in a most desolate harsh environment, you can find peace and beauty. You just have to look. (And have a camera with a macro setting.)

Taken in the spring of 2008-ish, while on the job in the Upper Mojave, near Lancaster, CA.

To My Mom: Part II the road trip edition

My brother and I in 1985, somewhere in California waiting for our "driver"

My mom LOVED road trips. And I'm not kidding at all. It was in her blood. She would get itchy. There was a need to get out on the road. To get out of the house. Away from the familiar.

To have an adventure.

Perhaps this is in my head because my father just wrote about their (my mom and dad's) last epic road trip which was her road trip with cancer. You made me cry dad, that was quite the epic adventurous road trip.

Along the lines of what I wrote in Part I, I also inherited that gene. I LOVE road trips. I need them. I itch. I crave. And I need one, RIGHT NOW. It's in the works, (a small one). It better be in the works, you know who you are, boo!

But Mom's road trips were epic. I'm glad I was included in some of them. Not like I had any choice in the matter. I, along with my brother, would be pulled out of school for weeks at a time, and we'd get in the car, and off we went.

Dad wasn't on these trips. Dad would take us camping every summer, and mom would take us on epic road trips. Perhaps I'm using epic too much, but they were epic. Especially to an 8-year old, who got to leave school a month early.

There were lots of road trips. Mom and dad would pile all three of us kids in the back of a car with sleeping bags in the wee hours of the morning and we'd wake up in Nevada on our almost yearly summer trip to Wyoming. But there are two trips that I remember quite well.

My brother and I at Mt. Shasta

She took us north in 1985. I got to see snow for the first time.

already an archaeologist at age 7

I saw Crater Lake.

She stopped, and I got to scoop up ash from Mt. Saint Helens along the side of the highway. I rowed in a boat for the first time (that I actually remember) in Oregon.

I also met mean sheep at Aunt Babe's house in Washington.

She took us east in 1989. She drove us south through California, through Arizona, (we did stop at the Grand Canyon, brother, I found pictures to prove it) New Mexico, Texas, and Oklahoma to Arkansas. To Grandpa Perk's Ranch (her father).

I met cousins, aunts, uncles, 2nd, 3rd, 4th cousins and I don't know how you're related but you are.

I'm related to them somehow

Learned a new game of cow pucky fights via 4-wheelers. Mom would have to hose us down in the yard. From Arkansas she took us north. Through Missouri and Iowa to Minnesota to a Larsen family reunion. Where I got to float down a river in an innertube and watch my brother and other cousins pee on Wisconsin.

Watch my grandparents dance. See June bugs. Oh and see my dad after a month or so.

hanging out with Cousin Dawn

can you tell we are Pepsi fans?

She then decided that after the reunion that we should take a detour... around Lake Superior before driving back down. "It won't take that long", she said.

Oh Canada!

Canada is cold

Well, we can tell you, they don't call it Lake Superior for it being so small. I got to spend my first night in a foreign country, by the name of Canada that trip. I saw Canadian money for the first time and drank a Canadian coke. And for the first time on this long trip, I got my own hotel bed. I didn't sleep with my mom that night. We saw Lake Superior, from all sides. It's a big lake. Somehow we ended up in Ohio. Where family friends were and their twin daughters put my hair in such tight pig-tales that I got a headache.

But I also saw fireflies for the first time.

From Ohio, she drove us back south to Grandpa Perk's in Arkansas for a bit, and then northwest to Wyoming to the Larsen stronghold in Cheyenne, then finally back home to California.

So now maybe you can see why I call her road trips epic. Especially to a kid. She did all the driving. There are a lot of stories we could tell. My brother has quite a few regarding our Grandpa Perk, for sure. But they are his to tell.

But mom was game for anything. "I wonder what it's like to drive on the salt flats", she'd say. So she'd take the car onto the flats in Utah. "I wonder what it's like to hit a road construction cone", she'd say. So she ran one over in Nevada... and dragged it under the car for a mile. "I wonder what it's like to hit a bird" she never said, but it happened anyway. And part of the bird was stuck on the front grill, and other parts of it were on the back.

It was a lot of miles in the car with mom. We'd listen to tapes. The Carpenters, Beach Boys, and The Nylons were ones I remember. We'd wear the tapes out till they started to warp. And we'd sing the miles away. I'm sure there were boring parts (Nevada and Oklahoma ring a bell) but I don't remember being bored in the car with mom and my brother.

She was truly happy on the road. There was a mischievousness to her and a true sense of adventure. We could go anywhere we wanted, and we did.

When I was a practicing archaeologist, this need of road tripping was satiated. I was traveling. I was on the road. Some places were not so fun, but others were great. I saw things and places that I'd never seen before. I got to explore the Sierra Mountains, Eastern California (Lone Pine), the Mohave Dessert, etc. Now that I'm not a traveling shovel bum, the need isn't being met regularly.

Mom had an epic road trip planned. She and dad were going to leave for it 3 days after she got her cancer diagnosis. They never got to do it. Instead she went on her final epic road trip of doctor's appointments, chemo and radiation treatments, and surgeries. No one thought it would be her last road trip. It shouldn't have been. But she was a trooper. She was adventurous. She was mischievous. She made the most of her last road trip.

It was epic.

I am determined to continue the tradition. For her, in memory, and for myself. Because it is in me. The need. The itch. I have to go. Somewhere. The force is strong in this padowan.

Adventure awaits.

I'll see you on the road, mom. I'll belt out the harmony to your melody.



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By God, it's a fountain!

Long long ago (back in 2009, the year I went mental and other things happened) in the far distant smelly tar lands (Taft, California) *shutters* some of my crew members came across something that they thought I would like. At the time I was telling them of the adventures I was having fixing my house and landscaping my backyard. I was collecting rocks for a pond that my sister was constructing while I was out doing field work. Now there aren't many rocks in Taft. There's a lot of sand, and sticky stinky sand, but not a lot of rocks... that I'd be willing to display anyway in my glorious and wondrous backyard. HA! I did procure a coyote skull and a sheep skull however, and several other crew members took home some animal bones as well. We had a lovely cat skull sitting on the dashboard for a few weeks. It was adorable until you looked in its dead empty eye sockets and your soul turned black with despair.

Anyway, I'm getting distracted. At the end of the day when we would all meet up again, they said, "hey, we found something you may want". So off we went to find the GPS coordinate they logged. Low and behold they had found a stash of transmission tower ceramic insulators. These weren't your cute aqua glass insulators that people spend $50 bucks a pop at overpriced antique stores. No sir. This was an intact 40-50 pound ceramic insulator. And I thought it was beautiful. I thanked the crew members who found it and thought of me. We heaved it into the back of the SUV, and off we tootled. My first thought was to get it home and turn it into a fountain.

Well it made it home and sat in my backyard for years. It was a stand for tomato plants for a few years. It also held strawberry plants when we rebuilt the main vegetable garden beds. But finally after years of neglect and wishing it was still hanging off a steel transmission line in the dessert, it has become a fountain!

One of my nephews drilled the hole needed to run the rubber tube, and my sister one day took our old pond apart (we never took the time to maintain it) and replaced said pond (mosquito breeding ground) with our new fountain. TA DA!!

isn't it just the cutest thing ever?

and it works!!