Winging It - The Time I Failed

All of my thinking about successfully winging it has gotten me thinking about a less successful time I went forth without a plan.  I call it "The Time I Got Lost in Phragmites."  Phragmites australis, or the Common reed, or Phrag, or That Awful Tall Stuff is an invasive, perennial grass.  Around the Great Salt Lake if forms dense stands that are literally swallowing the lake.  It's horrible.  I'm currently the only student in my lab not studying Phrag, but I still find it nearly everywhere because it has been so successful around the lake.  Here are some of the reasons it's so successful:

Prolific seed production, in addition to the ability to expand via rhizomes.  

It grows 10-15 feet tall.  

It expands rapidly, quickly out-competing the native species you see growing in the foreground.  

Through rapid growth and growing so tall, it effectively excludes all other species, form monotypic stands.  

It also grows very dense, making travel through it exceedingly difficult.  

One day, last year, I had a really traumatic field experience in the Phrag.  If you haven't been able to tell, I'm generally a woman without a plan.  This has made an entire summer of field work kind of difficult, because I have 50 sites and last year I needed to visit each site twice.  I really winged it the entire summer.  While I had a well thought out protocol for gathering data once I got there, I was figuring out which site to go to on a daily basis.  This not only made it so I didn't sleep well, as my dreams were haunted by semi-conscious field day planning, and I used more gas than perhaps I needed to.  One day I had a plan to work more efficeintly by visiting a field site along with another errands I had to run.  This story proceeds as a series of bad decisions I made on the fly.

Bad decisions #1: making field work part of a day I wanted to get anything else done in.  Field work needs to be an all-day thing, you start in the morning and end before the hottest part of the afternoon.  One day toward the end of the field season, I was having a really traumatic day and I think that set the stage for all the poor decisions that followed.  It was a Sunday evening early in September and I was taking Brent to the airport, where he would be catching a flight to Houston, Texas for three weeks, or three months.  I was unhappy about that uncertainty and already missing him.  Since I was already going to be at the airport, I thought it would be an effective use of time and gas to jump on over to one of my nearby field sites.  This was not a good time to "just" make a field visit.

The field site I intended to visit is located on the beach near Saltaire, and it's a really cool site where all the saltiness and weird water patterns have lead to some really cool plant communities and soil properties.

Parts of the site are dominated by salt grass, pickleweed and alkali bulrush; three of my favorite species.  

Proximity to the Great Salt Lake itself makes it a super salty site.  

Bad decision #2: Accessing field site from the wrong side of the Phrag.  Unfortunately this area has some really large, vigorous stands of Phrag.  The easiest way to access this site is from the marina, but the gate to the road out there was going to close at sunset and I didn't want to get locked in.  So I parked at the nearby concert venue, on the other side of the beach (read: the other side of the large Phragmites patch).  In the beginning, my walk across the beach was awesome, it was a stroll across sand and short plants, temps were starting to cool and I was feeling productive.

I've heard this smoke stack is taller than the Empire State building.  When visible, it provides a good bearing toward my site.  

I said it before, the sunsets on the GSL are the best ever, and they tend to make the western mountains look a bit like Mordor.  

As I neared a large stand of Phrag, my GPS told me the site I was aiming for was about 550 meters away  due southwest; basically I was almost there.  I made sure all my pockets were zipped and my stuff all safely stowed away from the Phrag's prying grasp, and began to push my way through.  As I mentioned early, Phrag is difficult to walk through because it is very dense.  Its nearly impossible to walk a straight line through, this patch was even more difficult because there was knee deep water and seeds were being released.

The point of no return.  Or the point at which I should have returned.  

After a minute of pushing through I realized that it would be impossible to push my way through while holding onto my GPS/compass, so I took note of the orientation of wind blown stems as a way to orient myself and pushed on with both hands.  This strategy quickly went bad, as the stems weren't all blown in the same direction and I was being pitched back and forth a lot.  Further complicating matters, I am pretty severely allergic to Phrag and could not breath well through all the mucus my body was producing.  Here is what my journey looked like:

Journey overview.  All together I had a 2 mile round-trip walk.  I completed 1.85 miles of it. That bright green area between the beginning and destination is all Phragmites australis.  

My path through the Phrag.  I began in the south and moved clockwise.  

Bad decision #3: Not checking in with anyone.  After 15 minutes of pushing through the Phrag, pulling the GPS out to check my progress, and continuing to push through I came to the following conclusions:

1. I could not maintain my bearings anymore, I was just walking in a circle (literally).  After 15 minutes of dedicated work, I was only 17 meters closer to my site, but still more than 500 meters away.  
2. The sun was setting and I was standing in water that had been shaded all year, it was cold.  
3. No one knew where I was.  

This last one really distressed me.  When going into the field by myself I usually check in with Brent, but he was on a plane.  I could have checked in with my field technician, which I have also done, but I didn't want to bother him on the weekend.  And now I was too scared to pull my phone out of the ziplock bag I stored it in because I would inevitably drop it.  Plus, who was I going to call?  I knew my position on the globe because of my GPS unit, but I didn't know how anyone would get there.

View to the north

View to the east.

The south. 

The west.

Phrag face. 

These are silly excuses for putting myself out in the field without anyone knowing, but that's a result of hindsight.  At that moment, I almost started to hyperventilate, but I was too full of snot and Phrag seeds to breathe regularly. Because I couldn't totally freak out, I calmly decided to bail.  The point I bailed was really, stupidly close to the point I started in, so I could find my way back to the channel, back across the beach, and to my car.

The lost in the Phrag experience was very humbling to me.  I had already known I have a poor sense of direction, but I've felt confidence in my field sites because they're flat and I can see the Wasatch Front to get my bearings.  None of this matters in the Phrag.  I knew I was a crier, prone to tears at a change of the wind, but it seems I also make even poorer decisions when upset.  Finally, it seems I had to learn the always-leave-a-note lesson for myself, despite having read Aron Ralston's book about not leaving a note.

While I will spend the rest of my life generally without a plan, I will not ever go into the Phrag by myself, and I will never start a field excursion after 1:00 pm.  And if you're a field monkey, you too should learn from my lessons and don't put yourself in the Phrag alone.

My Mom is Magic

Today is my mom's birthday, which is a totally appropriate situation in which to celebrate her many skills.  My mom is a very talented woman, so talented I sometimes thing she is magic (I'm tempted to believe she may be evil, but she uses these talents for good, so I think she's probably just magic).  There's really no way to list all of her accomplishments (she's held some jobs, got some college degrees, let lots of children live...), so I'll just stick to the 5 skills that have made the biggest difference in my life.

Me and Mom, 12 hours after I was born.  That's when my mom left the hospital.  She's tough stuff.  

I'm very happy she let all of us live, seeing as we've been fighting formal portraits for almost 30 years now.  

1.  Surprise skirt lining!  My mom is an incredibly talented seamstress, she's made many of my friends and siblings wedding dresses, all of my formal dresses, and matching outfits for my siblings and I for many years.

We always get matching Christmas jammies.  

Lots of ladies in lots of bright colors.  

 Not only is she good at assembling clothes, she's also good at picking patterns.  Over the years her dress making whims have produced all of my favorite clothes, including this very nice looking skirt with a surprise red lining!  There's no end to the joy surprise lining has brought me, whenever the lining pokes out it reminds me that my mom loves me and calls me Sunshine.

2.  Powers of healing.  We older siblings give my mom a lot of grief over how little sympathy we got when we were sick as young children.  We had to be bleeding or puking to get out of school/church and we were certainly never offered drugs.  Then the younger ones went through grade school and they get drugs whenever they're ill and they can take days off frivolous things (yes, Psych marathon is frivolous!).  However, we older siblings have proven to be remarkably good at avoiding the hospital, so perhaps all the with-holding made us more resilient.

Despite holding this grudge, I still know that my mom will come nurture me back to health whenever I need it, even though I live an hour away.  One day after I moved out of my parents house I got very sick, so sick I was crawling to the bathroom to puke.  I waited until I could get out of work and called my mom and whined "Mom, I can't stop throwing up, I need you."  And do you know what she did?  She came over to my apartment at 11:00 pm with Saltine crackers, popsicles and Coke to make me feel better.  And it worked!  Whenever I get sick I'm pretty sure my mom can sense it, because she usually sends a text message reminding me that she loves me and is willing to come get me if I need her.  Magic I tell you.

3.  Food, so much good food.  My mom is an excellent, prolific cook.  Staying at other people's house growing up was always a little worrisome because we thought me might starve to death in places that didn't eat as often as we ate at home.  And the things we ate at home were awesome!  Growing up I think my favorite meals were Tater-tot Casserole and most excellent Sunday Pot-roast.  But because my mom is awesome and adaptable, when I became a vegetarian she adjusted her cooking techniques and started making the most delicious curries our family has ever seen.

My first solid food, February 1984

The best cakes ever made, December 1988

Mom made me a wedding cake for my 25th birthday, because she's great like that.  

Thanksgiving the way we do it.  

Holidays with my family are a great time, in part because we just eat all day long.  All the sugar and fat make us quite jolly.  And kind of nappy.

4.  Tickling the ivories.  In addition to cultivating skills in sewing, general crafting, and cooking, my mom can also play the piano really well.  We used to play these awesome Oscar and Hammerstien duets, as well as a duet to "Memory" from Cats that will always hold a fond place in my heart, but perhaps my favorite piano memory was the time my mom played the piano without part of her finger.  One day while putting together a quilt, my mom sliced the side of her index finger with a rotary knife; don't worry, we picked up the piece and she got it sewn back on.  However, this slicing lead to many stitches and quite a large bandage, which was unfortunate because my mom said she would play the piano for a mission farewell in church.  Never one to back down from a commitment, she played through an entire 8-page song in front of the congregation, the only help she needed was me to turn the pages for her.  Hard core.  And she still plays the piano, it's great.

5.  Magic purse.  I mentioned earlier that my family loves food, and that love plays into this most magical skill of all.  My mom gets a lot of grief for the gigantic purse she carries around.  Really, last I checked it was 2 feet long and a foot tall and wide (and brightly colored, which is great).  I'm still not sure what goes into the purse, but I do see her fish out her wallet pretty easily, so I imagine it's an effective case.  Several years ago, while I was in college (and mom was in college, because she's rad like that), I met up with my mom somewhere and I was just famished.  I thought I might die and I told my mom that, and you do know what she did?  SHE PULLED TWO SOFT SHELL TACOS OUT OF HER PURSE!  It was the most magical things I've ever seen in my entire life.  Not only was it enough food to staunch my hunger, but it was good food, not like old purse food you would think might come out of a bag.  That's because it's a purse that belongs to my magical mom.

You might have noticed I'm kind of reaching for pictures with my mom in them.  While she did an excellent job documenting all of these pictures in my scrapbooks, she was good at hiding behind the camera.  Thank goodness for cell phone cameras:

Pretending she doesn't like the dog.  

Being beautiful

Happy birthday Mom!  I sure love you lots.  Thanks for letting us live and being such a phenomenal example of being awesome!

Adventure Inspiration

There's been a lot of field work happening lately, but I'll get to writing about that adventure later.  Right now, I've just a got to share this image my sister sent me.

That's my nephew, celebrating a recent ascent.  I love everything about this picture, but most of all, I love that smile.  I hope to enjoy more things at that level of happiness.  I can't even describe how inspiring this picture is (I hope Liz sees it that way too, but I imagine she's more frightened by just how skillful and daring this kid is).

Turns out, that kid has some inspiring siblings, pictured below.

Yeah, these guys know how to live life well.  As always, thanks Liz, for sending me pictures.  I love them so much.

And finally, I'm inspired to go on more adventures because Brent's awesome mom, Jan, can make them into a cake.  The delightful cake pictured below was based on our most recent trip to Independence Monument. The cake itself was delicious, but also featured real rocks, interpretive signage, and Lego climbers carefully selected to represent Brent and I (Brent with backwards baseball cap and beard, me with my broad-brimmed Scientist hat).  Everyone should have someone as great as Jan in their lives.

So there you have it.  The things currently inspiring me to go on another adventure.  As soon as all this field work business is done with (hopefully just one more week!), I'll be headed to City of Rocks or Maple Canyon or Canyonlands or Little Cottonwood Canyon or.....

My Dad

Today is my dad's birthday.  He's getting old, but you totally couldn't tell it.  This time of year I get to celebrate both my parent's birthdays and their designated holidays (Mother's and Father's Days), and it always gets me reminiscing about how great my family is.  My family is the reason I am the way I am.  And I love that, because I can use it both as a compliment and an accusation.  

I'm the oldest of my parent's six kids.  As such, I'm the default favorite.  Aside from that default, I've decided I'm also my dad's favorite, and will make that case here.  Exhibit 1.  I was the first.  

Christmas 1983. 24 days old.  I think my dad still looks pretty young, but the youth displayed in this picture blows my mind.  My parents are cool.

1985.  I think our bond is evident.  

My dad is the one who encouraged all of my outdoors inclinations.  Some of my earliest memories are of hiking with my dad.  He also taught me the importance of taking pictures that show just how high up we are, because that might antagonize my mom.  But really, my dad was the one to encourage me to start adventuring, and that's been a really important part of my life.

Malans Peak, 1996.  

 My dad also encouraged me to learn how to be handy.  My dad has given me almost every tool I own, and I love that he continues to make sure we (or at least Scott and I) have everything we may need to take care of ourselves as we maintain our vehicles and live in cheap rental properties.  It's great.

Here we are using a table saw.  I was there when the table saw almost severed Dad's fingers.  Because of that I know the importance of lowering the saw blade before you do anything else with a table saw.  

My dad was my first softball and basketball coach.  In addition to giving me tools, my dad used to call me Becky Home-Ec-y to encourage better sports performance.  I think it was both encouragement/antagonization for sport's sake, but also to continue encouraging the influence of tools rather than glue guns and other "crafty" things in my life.  I suck at crafting, but I have some fond memories of sports.  

Jr Jazz Basketball 1999.  A good year for me.  

My dad also taught me how to ski.  Really, he taught all of us to ski, and I think that's awesome.  One of my favorite things during high school and college was our habit of ditching school for my birthday to go pre-season skiing.  Pre-climate change, we usually managed some pretty good skiing on December 1st.  Also of note, my dad occasionally suggested I ditch school for a good adventure, and I will always be grateful for that.  It's important to know when you need a break from the rat race.  December 1st is often that time I need a break.

Brighton 2000.  

Brighton pre-Christmas night skiing. 2007.  

99 Turns.  The Canyons.  2011.  

Some of my fondest memories with my Dad/Family happened on vacation.  Growing up, my parents ensured that we went on vacation somewhere cool every summer.  In the last few years I've really come to appreciate this, as I've realized taking a family of 8 on vacation means hours of crowded driving, many opportunities for children to run off cliffs or into raging rivers, and little sleep.  But it also means lots of fun and lasting memories.  The spot we've picked most often is Yellowstone National Park.  We first went in 1992 (which I have no good pictures of), then in 1997, 2003, and 2009.  And there were lessons from my dad along the way.  

Lesson #1.  Always remember bears.  

Yellowstone 1997.  Eating cantaloupe.  

The picture above demonstrates one of mine and my dad's favorite activities: eating.  On this particular occasion  we were eating cantaloupe, lots of cantaloupe.  You know what happens when you eat 2 pounds of cantaloupe right before bed?  You need to pee a lot.  However, because I was camping, I laid in bed for a lot longer than I should have, tossing and turning before recognizing that I should just get up and brave the cold so I could get some sleep.  On this particular vacation, my dad woke up too because he heard me tossing and turning, and exiting the tent and used it as a way to teach me about the threat of wildlife.  On my way back to my tent I heard a roar and some bushes moving and immediately thought "Bear!" and screamed something else (I forget what).  But it was no bear, it was my dad.  That's how his brain works.  And once my heart rate returned to normal, I thought it was hilarious.

Yellowstone 1997.  The crowded travel conditions.  

Yellowstone 1997.  

Family vacations also took us to Arches NP, San Diego and it's wildlife attractions, Bear Lake, and Fish Lake.  But we always came back to Yellowstone.  Our next trip was in 2003, and this is really the most memorable trip of all.  I was getting ready to start my sophemore year in college and somehow thought I was finished learning important life lessons on family vacations.  Wrong.  So wrong.

Lesson #2.  My family is the coolest.  

Yellowstone.  Tent.  2003.  

 Look at that picture.  Have you seen a happier group of 8 sharing the same tent?  No.  You haven't.  This is the point in my life where I realized my parents were so right, my friends had come and gone, but my siblings were really becoming my best friends.

Lesson #3.  The Swirling Vortex of Terror.  

This was a critical point in my relationship with my dad.  I've been reminding him for years about how he never taught Liz and I to swim.  Sure, we went to the pool and kind of learned later in life.  But when we were kids, fearless and more receptive to lessons, we weren't taught to swim.  We learned how to ride bikes instead.  Despite not really learning the swimming thing, my dad was always encouraging us to jump in bodies of water.  Flowing water, still water, it didn't matter.  We were always encouraged (read: taunted) to jump.  And we're still alive.  So I suppose the lesson is that my dad will never encourage us to do something that will kill us.  But I'm not sure I believe it.

Swirling Vortex of Terror.  Firehole River.  Yellowstone National Park.  2003.  

Anyways, on our trip to Yellowstone in 2003, we had the opportunity to float a short section of the Firehole River.  I had my reservations.  Sure, it was warm.  But it was also huge.  And I'm not a strong swimmer. After many taunts I watched Liz and Scott jump in and they did fine.  So I jumped in.  Then my shoes came off (because they were flip flops) and I got stuck in an eddy (which I had pointed out).  Terror ensued.  But eventually I came to the other side of the channel.  Where we had to jump again.  I watched everyone go in and pop up just fine, then casually float to the beach below.  But I jumped in (using my shoes as flippers), floated in a flailing manner to the beach, and emerged sure I had just gone through the most harrowing experience of my life. I dubbed that stretch of water the Swirling Vortex of Terror and my dad has never agreed with me about it.  However, as scared as I was, I'm glad my dad has always encouraged me to jump into things feet first.

Pre Vortex of Terror.  

This encouragement has continued since then.  When I come up with a really good vacation plan, my dad is always the one who says "That's a great idea."  And he's the one I know to check in with when I go on a trip, because his response is always "Have fun, send me pictures."  My dad is one of the coolest people I know, you all should meet him, because he's awesome, and he's made me the way I am (awesome).

Lesson #4.  Always wear a hat.

My dad understands the importance of wearing a broad-brimmed hat when you're out in the sun.  He actually gave me my awesome "scientist hat" when I went to him about my troubles out in the field.  With the previous message I may have implied that my dad encourages us to dangerous things, but he also consistently reminds us to wear sunblock and a hat (because statistically we kids are more likely to get skin cancer than to drown, and that's my dad's fault).  

Lesson #5.  My family is awesome.  

Yellowstone 2009.  The family.