A Decade in Review

I didn't know the end of a decade was so important. Seems like everyone is summarizing the past ten years. So I rummaged through the old memory banks, computer files and the internet to find my personal highlights.

2000 Chile
On the eve of Y2K we expected planes to fall out of the sky, ATM machines to stop working and electric grinds to spark wildly through the night. Boy wasn’t that ho-hum? The New Year did find me wide awake at midnight. With twelve others whom I had met just a week earlier I ate lamb cooked over the coals of a campfire. It never tasted so good. Somewhere deep in the mountains of Chile my trekking crew and I from North Carolina Outward Bound paused for a little rest.

Later,I wrote in my journal…
"Tonight, the moon rose over the shoulder of Osorno. Standing on the shore of Lago Llanquihue, I stare up at the summit in self-amazement. I must tell myself I was there - just last night, descending from the peak under the star-filled sky, following my moon shadow down the slopes. Time is a funny thing, for tonight last night seems like a lifetime ago.

My presence on this mountain when measured in time and size is merely a spec compared to its age and its stature. I guess today's bright sun melted my foot prints and all traces of my being has been erased from the surface of this great mountain. In this regard, Osorno appears unchanged. I can not say the same for me. To any stranger my feat is just another mountaineering yarn. And if I must tell myself I was up there on Osorno's slopes, how will anyone believe me? I know I was there. I can feel it."

2000 Chilean "Millennium" Mountaineering alumna, 32 days
Posted on North Carolina Outward Bound

2001 Ecuador and Peru
Somewhere in my past I saw a photo of Machu Pichu where emerald green mountains touch the sky. A five day trek and I found myself looking down to the stone city. I was invited to spend the night at the hotel near the summit. After the last bus shuttled the tourists from the peak, I walked among the ruins in a solitude. Few get to experience this.

The next morning I climbed Huayna Picchu in an hour. I’ve got a great photo of me at the top taking by a couple of Germans. Alas, those were the days before digital and that photo is buried somewhere in the archives of my storage unit.

I combined this trip with another Outward Bound adventure to Ecuador. Something about the mountains. I climbed to 19372 feet, dragged through the fog with the help of an angel. I got my sorry ass to the top to see absolutely nothing. Fog threw a thick blanket around me. Complete white out. A month later National Geographic’s Adventure magazine had a photo spread of the mountain. Couldn’t believe what I missed!

2002 Singapore, Katmandu and Bangkok.
My first experiences in Southeast Asia. Overwhelmed with language, smells and sounds, and that was in Singapore. I ventured out alone to see the Royal Palace, hire a longboat captain to take me across the river and a private guide to show me the ancient capital. The people in Nepal taunted my life long dream to join the Peace Corps.

My last evening in Bangkok, feeling adventuresome I ordered a chili bass and nearly gagged when the fish arrived with head and scales. It was delicious.

Little did I know I was headed to Micronesia in a year where my host father would offer the raw heart of a tuna and I would see a young man spear a fish and eat it while hanging off the back end of my boat.

I puked in the Sheraton Katmandu lobby after a wild ride in the backseat of a Landrover. I told them I wasn’t feeling too good. And I cussed like a sailor on the accent to Kala Pater. My guide, Anna Griswald, insisted everyone drink two quarts of water during our treks. And every night I had to get out of my sleeping bag, don my frost covered jacket and pee. One night I stepped out of my tent to see the full moon kissing the Himalayas. I couldn’t help but reach out and touch the white light. No one saw me do this.

Later I road an elephant and went looking for tigers. I’m still looking for tigers.

2003 Federated States of Micronesia
“Downstairs the youth group practices Christmas carols in Mwoakillese. Over and over again, they sing with no less enthusiasm than the first time. This morning after digging the tree ornaments out of the closet in my room, I helped my little sister, Juliet, decorate a four-foot fake Christmas tree. The presents sent by my mother and father arrived and I have placed them under the tree. If I could only smell pine instead of the ubiquitous island mold, I might convince myself it is Christmas time.

In town, the lights are hung on the all the store fronts. From the PA system in Wall Mart, an endless supply of Christmas music spills out on aisles of Spam and Ramen. In the freezers, air filled Santa balloons accompany the shipments of turkey tails. Next door at Senny’s, a small retailer where you’ll find everything from rice to mattresses, a life sizes Santa wiggles his hips and dances to the techno beat found on the CD decks of most Micronesian cars.

It’s Christmas time in Micronesia. Hardly feels like it. I feel like this one is going to be a tough holiday for me.”

2004 Slogged through Micronesia
Okay, it was a lifetime dream, turned into nightmarish experiment of boredom. If it had not been for the other volunteers and my cool new family I would have lost my sanity. My assignment consisted of waiting for someone to show up to work. That usually happened on pay day when the staff of four seemed to magically appear before running off to some relatives forty day funeral.

Many a morning I sat in a burnt-out cement block building with windows boarded in plywood. Then I found a project on the island of Nukuoro. I poured my heart and soul into researching and writing a grant to built a library equipped with solar powered computers hooked up to short band radio for email. Clever me.

Clever until I asked for technical support from a salty sea captain.

2005 The High Seas
When the New Year rolled in I was rolling in the belly of the Cosmic Muffin. Remember puking in Katmandu? That was little league. Sailing from Micronesia to Majuro turned out to be a sixteen day roller coaster ride. You would think I would learn, but a promise is a promise and so I found myself sailing from Hawaii to California once again on board the Cosmic Muffin.

My July 29 journal entry
"Took the 8:30 p.m. to midnight watch. With music to listen to, a book to read, stars to gaze at, and the job of sailing a boat using crib sheets, time passed quickly. These hours usually do, especially when the alarm clock is set for every twenty minutes. We should all be nervous tonight, for I am in control using my trusty cheat sheet to keep the boat a sailing.

It is a warm night and the weather is clear, so the captain is sleeping on the foredeck. Maybe he is covered with flying fish? I don’t know.

Don’t accuse me of having a dull, uncomplicated life. "

2006 East Coast
It was on the high seas that I decided to turn my journal into a book. I scribbled out The Last Voyage of the Cosmic Muffin and I self-published my first book.

While I worked on remodeling one of my apartment kitchens, I devised a marketing plan for my memoir. I wrangled a radio show host into following my exploits then jumped into my parents' 20 year old RV and peddled the book in seaports, campgrounds, farmer’s markets and even a roadside corn stand.

The best of plans can't prevent life from happening. Mom passed away and suddenly becoming a famous author didn’t seem too important.


2007 Florida
In my never- ending search to stay warm, I packed my two cats into my Jeep and headed south. I had a whim that I would go to Key West, to pick up where Hemingway left off. Instead, I ported in the Greek sponge diving community of Tarpon Springs and joined three writers groups.

I met up with some old friends and made a few new ones. And at the end of the year, after kaykig, swimming and biking all year, I got to go sailing again. But never let land get out of sight.

Considered the year a total success.

2008 Europe
I've always had a lot of places I wanted to go, but Europe was never on the radar. I was never too impressed with the French, finding them rude even in my own country. Why go chasing after that?

But then my brother Mark thought it would be cool to go to Europe and tromp around where Dad did some of his World War II campaigning. My Uncle David, Dad and I joined a tour and set off to see Paris.

I wrote a blog excerpt...
"The soldier was aware of the constant threat of death. It slept beside him. He merely had to reach out to answer its call to end the misery. Somehow he resolved to ignored it. It wasn't mind over matter. Will-power could not have been enough. Each day he’d take slow crucifying steps toward his enemy, his only companion fear and anxiety. His backpack heavy with despair, yet he continued to grip his bayoneted rifle and a hopeless sense to live.

In this place where death piled up in layers of bones there was one refuge, a fountain. At the only source of water for either side a soldier met his enemy whose thirst had brought him to the same piece of heaven on earth. In misery, he dared not meet the enemy’s eye, for he would see the same fading light of hope. The two would silently dip their canteens in the pool, then slip over the hillside where the smell of burnt horses and gangrene filled their throats."

Lost in the Paris Metro with map in hand a French man, speaking no English, offered to help. Somehow, I managed to tell him where I wanted to go and he managed to give me directions. And suddenly, I thought the French weren't so bad after all. Nothing like a good life experience to prove yourself wrong.


2009 New York
Uncle Sam made me pay for my island retreat in Hawaii, so I worked my ass off at odd jobs to pay a few tax bills. He has no record of such activities. And when he reads this, like everything else I write, I'll claim it's pure fiction.

That’s a good way to bring 2009 and the decade to a close.