Quotes From the Land Down Under

We went caving this weekend. There was a lot of belly crawling, river walking, rolling, sliding, crawling, squeezing and a little crying and grunting. We saw cool formations, salamander-like things, and many small brown bats (which were hibernating). My arms are bruised and I'm happily tired.

We did some tight crawls; one was without headlamps and was magical. Another was long and tight, squirling around stalagmites with a final pinch at the end to a magical room called the "radon room" because someone once tested it and found it to have extraordinary levels of radon in it. We didn't stay there long, but it had incredible formations and crystals.

At first, I felt like that part in the Goonies when they found that ship. I actually said, "Down here, we're on our time!" These 13 year olds didn't pick up on it. (They did, however, get a Star Wars reference to the big worm holes on that other planet.) One kid hid under a ledge and grabbed my ankle with a Gremlin-like noise. It freaked me out. I'll tell you what! He claimed it to be one of the highlights of his trip. Hey, I do what I can to keep the kids happy.

While we were exploring, someone got the song, "I come from the land down under..." stuck in everyone else's heads. The Gremlin made some comment about calling Australia "the land down under" because it was the closest to hell without burning up.

Someone retorted, "That's not true. You can burn in Australia. From the sun. It's called a SUNburn."
.............

Before going to sleep (at about 8pm), several kids were hanging out and fooling around. As they were walking back to their sleeping bags, the Gremlin said to me, "You know, Katie, I just found out that fun does come at a price." He paused, and then pulled out his broken spare flashlight. As he held it between us, he continued, "And it costs $5.99."

We slept in a basecamp that was about 20 feet up from the main cave. The cave has a slick clay floor, and although there are steps worn into the cliff climbing up to this large loft, it's slippery and steep. So we set up a handline to ascend with our packs and descend to the river when necessary. At night, we pulled it up to the top. Despite the treacherous approach, we had visitors in the night. First, two folks who seemed to be with a group came up, saw the rope and one of the instructors, and went back to tell their group that they'd have to find another spot. That was fine and respectful.

The second time, however, seemed more usual to our cave camping experiences. We've found that drunk local people seem to come into the cave around 1am. They seem to throw rocks, smoke cigarettes, drink, yell, and scare the blood out of me. The last time we camped with our kids in the cave, we were in a more exposed spot where it wouldn't be hard to walk right to us and mess with us or our packs. I was a lot more relaxed sleeping up in the loft-- at least when I went to sleep.

When the loud people came splashing and yelling, and when I could smell the cigarette smoke, I felt my primal fear. There's something really vulnerable about being in my sleeping bag and hearing them approaching. I could feel my heart panting and I made myself as small as possible. I'm glad that one of my co-instructors was "guarding" us by sleeping near the entrance to our camp. I'm glad that these people didn't hurt us. Two guys actually climbed up the slick entrance. I listened as they yelled down, "Hey, ya'll wanna rope?"

Someone from below said, "Why? Is there one there?"

At this point, our guarding co-instructor said, "Hey!"

The guys yelled to him, "Ya'll campin'?"

He said, "Yeah."

There was a slight pause before the guys said, "Ya'll sleepin?

Our co-instructor said, "Yeah," but he told us the next morning that he wished he had replied, "No, we're just waiting here in the dark at 1:30 in the morning for our human sacrifice to arrive. I guess you're it." I'm glad he didn't say that. I'm glad that the only bruises I have are from the clay and rock. Fun, after all, DOES come at a price.

On the Claw and the Tootsie Roll.

At the start of our TAASC meeting today, Greg, my South African co-instructor, was joking about an ace bandage wrap on one boy's hand. The kids have been practicing splinting arms and legs and know some basics such as stabilizing above and below the injury, putting the patient in a position of comfort, and being able to check for circulation.

This ace bandage was supposed to be for his wrist, but it was only wrapped around the hand and fingers. It tightly bound the fingers together (even the thumb) into a hook of a hand. It was so tight that his fingers were stacked on top of each other. His hand was cupped like the front leg of a praying mantis.



It looked like the Penguin's hand from Batman. Except without the thumb-like thing:





(I wanted to get the web address for this picture to credit it, but couldn't find the link again...)

We called it "the claw."

This meeting was about safely lifting injured people; packing them into litters (heavy-duty stretchers); and then carrying them through the woods. We were practicing for search and rescue scenarios or evacuation situations. Our praying mantis said that he could only use one hand, but he was effortlessly flailing that wrist around like he was a jazz dancer. Seeing this, Greg replied, "Nah, man, hook that claw on." So he did.

We had the group carry the litter around some obstacles in the woods. They practiced passing the litter around trees, lowering it as a group, and squeezing it through tight spaces by putting it on its side. This move is called "tootsie roll" in some wilderness first responder books, and it's like moving a couch through a doorway. Or, imagine the top of your hand is the stretcher with the person strapped into it on top. Most of the time you can carry it flat with your palm facing down and in the same plane. Sometimes to squeeze it through a tight place, though, you have to turn it on its side. Take your hand and turn it so your pinkie finger is down and thumb up.

Greg introduced this maneuver, so the kids pronounced it with his South African accent, not knowing that it was spelled like that chocolately chewy goody, the "tootsie roll." I think most Americans would pronounce that candy as if it rhymed with playing "footsie" under the table.(Unless they are homeschooled and taught to say "bag el" or "Sandra Bull lock.")

Instead of this 'merican pronounciation, all but one sharp kid called it "toot see" like "tutu" or "toot that horn and see." Just like Greg. While they were planning, they'd say things like, "Okay, you two stand on that side and we'll toot see her through here." Or, "Wait until we're ready before you toot see roll her on the side!"

When the kids were learning knots, he taught the munter hitch.

Here it is:

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Munter2.gif. Got this link...)

So I would pronounce this "mun ster" (as in rhyming with Attila the "Hun" ster). By the way, isn't it great that I know phonics so well? I should write for a dictionary company. Forget those little symbols when you can explain it like this. How do you pronounce "belay?" Hmm, how about rhymes with tilapia "filet." Carabiner? "carpet cleaner." But I digress.

So munter hitch like "hunter kitsch" (you know, knicknack bears wearing plaid shirts and hats).

Greg, however, pronounces it as if it sounds like "moon-teh." I'm not doing his accent justice. I should ask him how he would rhyme it. I loved having all of the little TAASC kids run up to get checked off on their knots and yell, "I have the moonta heech!"

It's rubbing off, on all of us though. When we were packing backpacks for this weekend's trip, I said to Greg, "We mustn't forget the helmets!"

As if "we mustn't forget them whilst we pack the bus for our holiday in the cave." What a giggle.

Oh, the praying mantis/penguin/clawboy's hands could also look like t-rex claws.

Man alive, all of these things make me laugh.

Bits and Pieces Part One

First, I must apologize to my close family and friends for monotonously droning, "I'm so unfocused... I'm not balancing my work/study/social time well...I've lost creativity..." My sister got the brunt of it twice as we started watching The Office (at Christmas and then last weekend). I don't know what it is about starting to watch that show... Both times, in a very Sassafras way, she said, "Kates, don't worry about it right now. Let's just watch tv."

It must be even more frustrating for these patient family and friends that my complaining is often followed by the continuation of these same patterns. My social life has gotten to the point of "double booking" (as someone on my calendar put it last night) in which I stop by one social function on the way to another; which is then followed by hanging out late night somewhere else. (Mom and Dad, don't fret I don't really do this on "school nights.") To all of those friends and family: Sorry. AND I'm on a great roll today so the complaining will stop. At least for today. I think I'll even stay in tonight!

(By the way, I'm not procrastinating by writing on my blog right now; I'm on my way to a meeting and really can't start something new in this little time).

For all of the bad reasons for going out, it has also been pretty fabulous. As a result of being so social, I have started to think about the relationships in my life now. I've been blessed with forming new relationships through a long string of connections in my little city and little community. The same guy who mentioned "double booking" asked how I have such an extensive network (he probably didn't expect the long-winded story about how I met all of these people. Expect long winded from now on, kid.)

Additionally, I've been remembering people from other points in my life. My trip to Nashville highlighted the connections from different phases; I visited with high school friends, my sister and family friends, a college pal, and an Outward Bound friend. Lately, thanks to Facebook and other shenanigans, I've gotten in touch with Vacamas folks and people from the primitive community. I've reconnected with many "lost"aquaintances.

I wonder if my current friends will later become those from my "Asheville phase" of life. Or, I wonder if they will be lifelong friends. Lifelong friends are like players on an "all-star" team. For instance, although being "Colby friends," Sponge and his family are also on my team. Of course I want all the folks to be on this team, but we lose each other.

There's a great quote by Lois Cheney that I think speaks to the value of making those connections in the first place. We read it at the end on Outward Bound courses sometimes. It's a bit long, but it elucidates my thoughts so well.

I'm offering it to you who are a bit or piece of my life:

Bits and pieces,
Bits and pieces.

People, people important to you, people unimportant to you, cross your life, touch it with love and carelessness and move on. There are people who leave you and you breathe a sigh of relief and wonder why you ever came into contact with them. There are people who leave you and you breathe a sigh of remorse and wonder why they had to go away and leave such a gaping hole. Children leave parents; friends leave friends. Acquaintances move on, people change houses. People grow apart. Enemies hate and move on. Friends love and move on. You think on the many who have moved into your hazy memory. You look on those at present and wonder.

I believe in a master plan in lives moving people in and out of each other’s lives, and each leaves a mark on the other. You find you are made up of bits and pieces of all who ever touched your life, and you are more because of it, and you would be less if they had not touched you.

Hope that you accept the bits and pieces in humility and wonder, and never question, and never regret.

Bits and pieces,
Bits and pieces.