Tiny Huecos of Information

Still in the desert.

Climbing stronger than earlier (although today was a weak attempt).

Meeting fantastic people from all over the place and with interesting "day jobs." (More on that soon.) For now, here are three photos:

Inside my tent.

My tent with Lynn Hill's Airstream and some hills behind.

Noey and Al with some perfect avocados from Santa Barbara. See the pockets behind them in the rock? Those are huecos.

More climbing photos to come. Many stories from this amazing place.

Hueco.

Right now I'm sitting in Hueco Tanks State Park with my little 2 year old friend, Tessa. She's sleeping in a running stroller and I'm sitting in the windy park. I'm looking up at the rock bands and out at the prickly pear cactus and creosote.

I have been humbled on the boulders out here, and think that I should take my friend Jeep's advice to: "Get in really good shape and drag your fingertips across pavement to get ready for climbing in Hueco." It was fun to check a few out this morning, and I definitely want to get back on some problems that I attempted while putting my ego on hold next to Tessa's strong parents.

Tessa is very cute. She empathizes about my cut hand, and recounts for everyone how I fell running in North Carolina. She loves On the Road Again by Willie Nelson, which is ironic since she has been to so many climbing sites in her 2 and a half years. She loves the puppies at the ranch, Hueco and Boulder.

We had to watch an orientation video, about which Tessa said, "Oh, we watch the movie again!" This park is pretty cool with rock art and formations called huecos, which remind me of those little basins on cave floors. Because of the way the rocks formed here, water collects in these bowls of hollowed-out places and there are many birds, rabbits, snakes, javelina, and insects around.

I'm sleeping in Roomie's tent in the campground outside of the Hueco Rock Lodge. Nights are cold with the open black-blue sky and full moon. It's amazing to see the silhouettes of the mountains in the distance from the scrubby dirt on which I sleep. I have been journaling and got to practice yoga in the quiet stillness this morning.

Exploration

I am going to Texas to spend time with friends, climb, and learn a little. Although I am excited about this trip, I have a bit of homebody longing to stay around Asheville. (My roommate talking about baking cookies is not helping my desire to get in the car...) I know that part of it is that feeling I get even when going out on Outward Bound trips; it's a dread of the unknown. As Wendell Berry put it in The One-Inch Journey:

Always in the big woods when you leave familiar ground and step off alone into a
new place there will be, along with the feelings of curiosity and excitement, a
little nagging of dread. It is the ancient fear of the Unknown, and it is your
first bond with the wilderness you are going into. What you are doing is
exploring. You are undertaking the first experience, not of the place, but of
yourself in that place. It is an experience of our essential loneliness; for
nobody can discover the world for anybody else. It is only after we have
discovered it for ourselves that it becomes a common ground and a common bond,
and we cease to be alone.

Part of it is excitement about life here in Asheville right now. I know that with every transition and adventure, I feel hesitant at first. Then, once I am out and back, I feel they add more colors and textures to my world.

Bright Zephyr

Despite going on a TAASC trip this weekend and then leaving on Monday afternoon for a bit of a climbing trip, I have not been hunkering down to a computer this week.

This is not to say that I haven't been doing work (or at least that the work won't be done by the time I leave); however, life has been much more full and roundly bright this week. The leaves really are the most spectacular yellows, reds, and oranges, and against the warm blue sky they look almost fake. These primary and secondary colors could be on superhero uniforms, if they wanted.

At one point today, a gust blew small yellow leaves in a flurry as if they were canaries that flew like bats. Or a yellow ticker-tape parade. Or a flutter of leaves.

Later, I saw a similar image when my young running buddy threw a handful of maple seeds and dried pine needles into the air. Two ticker-tape parades in one day!

Taking a break from running, we took a big step up onto a large fallen tree, and walked its spine towards the exposed root ball and empty hole. We sat for a while and talked about tree identification. I know a few basic ones (and most of them by leaves instead of bark), but I had to smile when he asked the same question that I was going to ask him: "Hey, what's your favorite tree?" It was as if nature took a break from its scientific day job and became our close friend or something for which we could have a preference.

I said aspens and maples. He said maples and oaks, but that if he lived in Canada, it would definitely be maples because of their maple syrup.

Life has been filling me up.

Celebration

While parties streamed through the streets on Tuesday night with the Star Spangled Banner and tears of joy and surprise; while jaded feelings faded for a moment; and while the words "liberty and justice for all" having more meaning for some, I drove home.

Orion's Belt and the Pleiades were clear above. The road was dark and empty. I turned on the radio and heard Barack Obama's speech. It made me take a deep breath and have a quiet celebration of my own.

November 3rd

It's this girl's birthday. I love that she is both confident as well as discerning. It takes her a minute to say hello, and then she impresses with trapeze flips, dancing and swimming skills, and love of reading.

Birthday Haiku:

Your giggling laugh

Diving deep to find batons

Curiosity

Green

Like other themes, October's "what is important to you?" will continue to resonate like a vibration that remains after the ring of a bell. Before leaving it for November's theme, though, I'd like to meditate on it one more time on this blog.

The majority are too personal to blast on a blog entry, but I was thinking about some small joys that I have seen or heard about within the past week. They are nuanced and beautiful:




The Japanese maple in my parents' front yard.
The maples that are fully yellow and red
Seeing a mountain you will run up-- far in the distance

This wedding with these people and our friends

Conversations that last longer than anticipated

Gary Snyder's poetry

Chopping cilantro and watching salsa canning at the neighbors' house.

Running with no other plans today

And noticing people's embraces after not seeing each other for many months.

And here's a brief story:

Today I went to Jubilee and moved to the row behind so that a couple could sit together. My new seat was next to a quiet, pudgy 11 or 12 year boy who had a skateboard in front of him. He breathed loudly through his nose and glanced over at me a couple of times; I didn't look at him, though. At one point in the service, we all hold hands. I was surprised that his hand was warm and rough, and that he held mine firmly, but not too tight. He held his mother's hand on the other side. At the end of that portion, we all give a squeeze and let go. He put his head on his mother's shoulder and she stroked his hair.

I love that entire interaction.