A Castle and Monument

I have been in Edinburgh about 3 weeks now and am enjoying it quite a bit. Class started this past Tuesday. I am a little disappointed in the size of the classes (about 30) but aside from that I am very pleased. The program is turning out to be just what I was hoping for. It seems like a lot of graduate programs these days are largely vocational-- especially in international development or humanitarian assistance. My program (Geopraphy- Environment, Culture, and Society) seems to blend quantitative reasoning with the theoretical (for example, Muir and Thoreau are part of this weeks readings).

I am heading up to Glencoe this weekend with the Mountaineering Club. Hopefully I'll have some more photos to put up here next week.

Edinburgh Castle and the Scott Monument dominate the Edinburgh skyline. This photo was taken from the lower part of Arthur's Seat-- a hill that rises high on the edge of the city. It doesn't take a military strategist to recognize what an easily defended fortification the castle must have been. (And for those willing to go to jail, I hear there are some long climbs up the side of it.)

This is New College at the University of Edinburgh. Unfortunately none of my classes are here. Since it reminds me of Harry Potter I like to think it is the school of Wizardry, and it sort of is-- it houses the school of divinity.

This is the Scottish Parliament Building. I can' t decide whether I like it or not. The windowed alcoves are actually "Thinking Pods" (you can see that half of it shaped like a seat or maybe one of those vomit cages they have at the fair). This is where Scottish MP's make important Scottish decisions.

I am a man that needs to roam. After about 2 weeks of being restricted to my feet I started to get some cabin fever so I rented a car. First I went to an auction in the countryside hoping to buy a bike. I didn't buy a bike there, nor did I have any idea what people were saying to me. Just like in the States, the thick accents really come out in countryside. Try reading a Robert Burns poem-- thats how confused I was.

Does anyone know whether Burn's just spelled words in Scottish phonetics or if he actually uses Scottish words?

While I had the car, I drove on the wrong side of the road along the coast out to the mouth of the Firth of Forth.

Swans at a wildlife sanctuary about 20 miles from Edinburgh.

Wildlife sanctuary looking wild and sanctified.

Sir Walter Scott.

This is my home. It is cheap, roomy, close to school, cold, and in a quiet area. The hill in the background is the side of Arthur's Seat.

This is the Geosciences building where my department is housed.

Grass is so green here.

From Arthur's Seat looking out over Portabello to the Firth of Forth.

These are the gentlemen from Le Marche Francais where my roommate Atta (middle) works. My house lacks a common area so this oversized hallway serves as one. Atta brings home more croissants than we could possibly eat.

Final Weeks in the States

After working long days and weeks in a high stress environment at the Tallahassee Board of REALTORS for the last 6 months I decided I needed a proper holiday before starting my vaca-umm, graduate program in Scotland. Conveniently, Erma was moving to Miami for a vaca-, I mean, internship, so I tagged along with her and we met some friends from Tallahassee down there.

It was nice to be in Latin America again.

For some reason I was surprised that Miami has a great beach.
Erma's only furniture consists of a couch she won't fit on and what was sold to her as a dresser, turned out to be a cabinet, and is now happy in its current role as a twin headboard. If you doubt the intensity of Miami's UV light checkout the couch cushion thats reversed.

The Venetian Pool was highly recommended by our friends from Miami. I was whistled twice for horseplay.

7-11 meets grain alcohol and Miami beach. The are more ways to walk out of here with a head/belly ache than you can shake a stick at.

When my time at sea level sadly came to an end I headed up to my second residence in Denver. Brendan welcomed me by insisting I meet him at half past five the morning after I arrived for a stroll up to 13 thousand feet by way of the Arapahoe peaks. My generous host Mike, and former co-ski-bum Nick joined us.

Brendan at break number one.

Brendan demonstrates the Major Kong technique of climbing.

The gang at roughly break #27.

Nick hiking with South Arapahoe Peak overhead (Photo from Brendan Leonard)

Nick and I on the summit. (Photo from Brendan Leonard)

A few days later I headed up to Red Rocks with the boys for a little open air cinema. Now Denver is right up there with Portland, when it comes to having a liberal-minded, indie type population so I would expect a good low-budget film or B movie. Such was not the case but I wasn't disappointed when I heard Highway to the Dangerzone six times. In addition to Tom Cruise's masterful performance as Maverick, the crowd put on a pretty good show: there were people dressed for volleyball-- complete with acid wash jeans and taped wrists-- and also a dozen or so in full flight suits.

Nick waits for the feature presentation: TOP GUN.

My final outing in the US was to be an epic three day climb up Gannett Peak-- the high point in Wyoming. Shamefully we failed to reach the top for no other reason than pure exhaustion. Our plan required a 16 mile hike in on day one, then to wake at 2 A.M. for another 10 miles to the summit and back to camp, and then 16 out. We managed day 1 and 3. It was still a magnificent trip and I think to the most remote place I have ever been.

Mike at the aptly named Photographer's Point.

I thought I had seen my last sandy beach for a while when I left Miami-- Not so!

I think the landscape of the Wind River Range is the prettiest I have seen.

Sure beats the flatlands.

I am in Edinburgh now. On the lookout for Neds.

My roommate, Atta, and I tried to take a (small) refrigerator on a bus today. They turned us away so we took a cab that was reluctant to have us.

I walked 4.5 miles yesterday to look at a used bike and it turned out to be something I wasn't really interested in but I didn't wan't to walk home so I bought it.

More stories to come...

1.33% of the Appalachian Trail

If one were to make an opinion of the Appalachian Trail only by consulting the information box on the right-hand side of the corresponding Wikipedia article, it is unlikely you would ever consider stepping foot on it. Under the heading Sights it lists only Appalachian Mountains. And under Hazards it lists the following:

Severe weather American Black Bear Tick-borne diseases Mosquitos Biting flies Chiggers Steep grades Limited water Diarrhea from water Poison ivy Venomous snakes

(I realize this intro is extremely cliche and smacks in its resemblance to every essay I wrote in high school and probably my freshman year in college: "Webster defines Communism as...but...".)

But we all know a single source should not be relied on. Through first-hand observation and second-hand retelling of stories I submit the following as the finest Sight along the trail:

PEOPLE

For reasons that will soon be clear, these sights do not cater to photographers so I will recount them in word.

• A man who sleeps leaning against a tree grasping in one hand a stick with a dagger lashed to the end , a blow gun in the other hand, and a piece of raw meat tied to one end of a string and the other end noosed around his big toe. Like a Rube Goldberg design, you can probably follow the chain of events and figure out what is supposed to be accomplished.
  
• A young man whose necessities for the AT included nun chucks, throwing stars, and a Black and Decker Firestorm 14.4 Volt Battery-Powered Reciprocating Saw. At mile thirty he became a little rowdy after a few beers, started practicing his nun chucks and was subsequently hit in the face with a log by an old man and hauled off by the police, after he started threatening people.
• A comparatively sane man who killed five mice at a shelter in a single night using only a Croc.

The truth is I didn't get to meet any of these people in the meager 29 miles I walked on the trail. The above stories were all told to me. But I have faith in their authenticity. I did meet men who were equally insane though; numerous men (and a woman) who thought it would be a good idea to postpone their lives for 6 months, shoulder their belongings, and walk 2175 miles from Georgia to Maine.

One of the insane is my good friend Brandon Quinn with whom I played a lot of disc golf with while we were both unemployed for the months of January and February. Saad, Amy, and I joined him for miles 550 through 579 in southwest Virginia. We came bearing needed supplies and a much slower pace.

Saad, Matt, Brandon and Amy crossing slow-moving wetlands near the beginning of our hike.

The terrain and ecosystems along this short stretch of trail were amazing. We walked through dry prairies filled with thistle, hardwood forest, humid stand of rhododendron, and even cattle pasture.

Brandon displays superb technique on a fence crossing.

The most classic tradition on the trail might be that of the "Trail Name". For the rest of this post we will go by:

• Brandon= Snuggie
  
• awarded because he supplemented his 40 degree sleeping bag with the backwards robe they sell on TV.
• Matt= Blisters
• Me= Paul Newman's Organic Gingersnaps (or just Gingersnap for short)
• Amy= Tenderfoot
• Saad= Sandstorm, Soul-Ja, Snot-Rocket, Paul Newman's Organic Tomato Sauce
• Saad had qualms with every name he had so one never really settled in.

Since everyone through-hiking leaves Georgia at about the same time, we always ran into people Brandon and Matt had already met and hiked with. Trail names are how everyone is identified and I don't believe Brandon knew the real name of a single person. It seems really silly, but I kind of enjoyed it.

Rain plagued most of the trip. Snuggie and Tenderfoot skirt the muddy trail.

Crossing a submerged bridge. Matt, Brandon's hiking partner since the beginning, briefly picked up the name "Soggy Bottom" as his pack's rain cover looks like it needs a diaper change.

Group shot courtesy of Sandstorm.

Blisters and Tenderfoot stand in front of one of the shelters along the trail. Notice the improvised devices for hanging packs and food bags to keep mice out.

They were holding hands right before this.

Sandstorm prides himself in reverse-over-the-head shots.

Sandstorm takes in the best views we had all weekend. Burke's Garden in the background.

...and I roll my sleeves down on my matching plaid.

Definitely the coolest shelter we saw. The Chestnut Knob shelter is the old quarters of a fire lookout with 360 degree views from the bald. To the north lies Burke's Garden-- a round, fertile valley so green and beautiful it is known as God's Thumbprint.

Photo inspired by Brendan Leonard over at denverdirtbagger.blogspot.com.

Sandstorm and Snuggie on the 3rd evening and the first evening together. On the first two nights, rain drove us into our tents before the sun went down. We all decided that next time we will bring one of those giant 16-man Mondo Condos.

Snuggie and Blisters insisted on adding squeeze Parkay (foreground) to every meal Sandstorm and I planned.

Catching a ride into town to resupply before parting ways. That beard is even better in real life.


Burke's Garden

To make up for the guy who killed 5 mice with a Croc, I stopped to help this poor turtle across the road. Now I have never seen a turtle like this, but I have seen an Alligator Snapping Turtle (that looks a lot like this) bite through the end of an aluminum baseball bat at summer camp in Ocala when I was 11. A few years later I lost the tip of my middle finger to an Alligator Snapper (citation needed), so i decided to let this fella try and make it on his own. I believe this is a Common Snapper.

Amy had class at 8 am. We left for Tallahassee at 5:30 PM. I think we beat the ETA above by about 5 minutes.

Wekiva Springs, Apalachicola Bay, St. Marks Biking Trail

For the new year celebration, Laurel and I went down to Orlando to visit Marine Second Lieutenant Derek Sindler, an old friend from our Panama days. After a long night on the town, we welcomed 2009 and washed away the the liquor from 2008 with a dip in the Wekiva Springs near Apopka. It was a fairly mild January day but the 68 degree spring water still bit pretty hard. There was only one other person swimming, and I think he was northern European so he doesn't really count. Archival advertisements we saw on display claim this water "cures rheumatism and kidney ailments" so I think it was an all-around good way to start 2009.

Derek acting out bible stories. I'm am not sure what that piercing glare on the left is.

Palmetto and (Sand?) Pine forest.

Derek and Laurel on the Sand Lake hiking trail.

Recreation and Leisure Expert Brandon Quinn and I made plans to hike 49.5 miles of the Florida Trail through the St Marks National Wildlife Refuge. The Florida Trail Association fought hard to get the trail through the refuge and when the Feds agreed, it made for the only opportunity for overnight camping in a National Wildlife Refuge. Our plans were all finalized when I realized I overlooked a minor detail-- the only way to cross the St Marks River is by boat. Lacking Huck Finn engineering skills and money to hire a boat, our only option would be to wave down a Mullet fisherman and ask for a lift. We were already on a tight time schedule so we called it off. I think we will try again when the seasonal pool floats get stocked at the dollar store later this year.

As an alternative, we headed down to Apalachicola for some sailing aboard Brett Rudder's boat. We were both fairly excited because the winds were really whipping following a cold front that passed the previous day. But when we got out on the water the excitement turned to nervousness.

Here Brandon is trying to keep the jib from blowing away.

The wind was just too strong for these land lubbers. The highlight was when I was trying to raise the main sail and a gust of wind pulled half the sail grommets off the boom. Picture me with two arms and one leg trying to keep the sail from blowing any more, when the US Coast Guard cruises by. My eyes stayed glued to the task at hand, trying to look as confident as I could in a desperate situation. I still can't believe they didn't stop and see if we needed help.

We decided to turn around and motor back in rather than sink Brett's boat.

Brett Rudder near the beginning of the St Mark's Bike Trail. I reckon' he is pondering whether you can get saved on a 3rd Sunday.

If Tallahassee has one recreational claim to fame, it must be the St Marks Trail. Once the busiest railroad in the South, now a holdout for the only inline skaters left in the world. To my delight, Outside Magazine mentioned the trail one time about 5 years ago. The author suggested that the rusted-out appliances that litter the trail might have been placed there for nostalgia, but I can confirm those are indeed authentic rusted out appliances.

The route we took was 21 miles each way, starting at a lofty 88 feet above sea level you get to ride downhill on the way there, but you have to climb 78 feet on the way back.

I was going so fast you couldn't see my spokes.


Brett checks out some of that authentic junk.

The St Mark's River was our destination and we sat down at Posey's Oyster Shack for some sweet tea and french fries that taste like seafood.

St Mark's River. To the right are the ruins of San Marco de Apalache, a four hundred year old Spanish fort. It was later occupied by both the Union and confederate forces during the War of Northern Agression. Great American Andrew Jackson also executed a Brit and Scot here for aiding the Seminole Indians in raids against the United States.
I can't figure this one out. Confederate flags for sale are a fairly common sight, but never have I seen the vendors also offering Pride flags to go with. I know this is supposedly the "New" South, but I can't help but think that the Pride flag is just bait so these guys can commit a hate crime.