Wilderness Adventure: Part 2

After an awe-inispiring stroll through the Giant Sequoias of the Mariposa Grove, and a deliciously sustaining snack, I was ready for my next Yosemite destination: Glacier Point.

Glacier Point is a viewpoint, high upon the end point of huge rocky cliff, that affords brilliant panoramas of the park. Waterfalls, granite rock formations, the snowy peaks of the Sierra Nevadas are jaw-droppingly, heart-stoppingly beautiful. I couldn't wait to get there and take a billion pictures.

However, as I drove out of the parking lot in the lowlands of the grove, what stood between me and my glorious destination was 36 miles of steep and winding mountain roads. Half of that distance was on the most treacherous conditions imaginable: two very tight, shoulder-less lanes of traffic, one shoved up the side of the rocky cliffs, the other offering a complete and utter lack of guardrails. One false move and it's down the steep mountainside for you.

Steeling my nerve, I chomped down the last of my beef jerky and entered my Zen zone for the hazardous drive. An hour or so later, I safely reached my destination, no worse for the wear, and hopped out of my car to take in the sights.

How's that for a glorious sight? The cold winds were whipping about, making me wildly homesick for the tropical Malaysian heat, but the dark, moody clouds created gorgeous and dramatic atmosphere. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Like every other person in sight, I grabbed my camera and started shooting.

That gigantic rock formation in the center of the shot is Half Dome, one of the geologic wonders of the park. To the right of Half Dome are two of Yosemite's waterfall superstars: Nevada Fall and Vernal Fall. When I visited Yosemite on my honeymoon, we hiked from the valley floor, past the lower Vernal Fall and on to the top of the upper Nevada Fall, and they feel like old friends.

At this point in our visit, the thunder grew more menacing, and lighting strikes began to cross our field of vision. Uh oh. We retreated to the car for safety. Driving rain turned to hail, and the storm raged mercilessly while we fished a soggy block of cheese from the cooler, whittled it down to the relatively dry and edible core, and ate as if we were starving. This was one of those hilariously miserable moments that make road trips so memorable.

A half hour later, the electrical storm gave way to harmless rain and wind, so we determinedly made our way back to the cliff's edge. This photo is not really any different than the ones I took earlier, but  it speaks volumes to  me of a stormy afternoon's wilderness adventure 

Wilderness Adventure: Part 1

On my way home from Malaysia, I took a side trip to Arizona.

On my way home from Arizona, I took the scenic route through California.

On my way home from California, I took a day off from driving to visit Yosemite National Park.

This may sound like a lot of detours and diversions to tack on at the end of a two-and-a-half month long trip to the far side of the planet. Let's be honest - I may have been crazy to complicate my life in this way.

But I have no regrets. Yosemite is a slice of heaven. Rich forests nestled in a glacier-carved mountain valley filled with spectacular granite cliffs, waterfalls, and a grove of Giant Sequoias.

We started our visit with the trees.

Giant sequoias belong to the family of redwoods. These particular beauties live only on the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada mountains, which is exactly where Yosemite happens to be. They are the largest trees on earth, as measured by volume. It's difficult to convey their majestic presence through photographs because it's almost impossible to fit the whole tree into the camera's view finder. They are just plain massive.

We took a short hike into the woods among the giants, and quickly found ourselves speechlessly trying to capture their magnitude. These four trees, called The Bachelor ad Three Graces, would barely allow me to squeeze their trunks into a single shot. In real life, their graceful trunks soar up to the sky together, young and straight and lean. 

But the primary goal of our walk was this fellow: Grizzly Giant. He is estimated to be about 2.000 years old, and one of the biggest trees in the world, by volume. With limbs bigger than most normal trees, deep black scars from forest fires, and and ever-admiring crowd of onlookers gathered at its base, this gentleman does not disappoint. He is mindbogglingly large.

Look, I even posed for a pic in front of this lovely beast. That's how you can tell that I really love it.

Just a short walk beyond Grizzly Giant is this curiousity, the California Tunnel Tree. Back in the 1800s, scheming businessmen cut an opening through the tree just large enough to allow a coach to pass through. They were hoping to tempt hoardes of city folk out to the park for a look-see at a drive-thru tree, which may have worked, but they also earned the disdain of 21st-century visitors who are shocked to see how the tree was mutilated. Poor baby.

Our total hike was not much more than a mile and a half, but afterwards of course we were famished and desperately in need of snacks. Ice cream bars and a package of particularly good beef jerky pulled us back from the brink of starvation.

Then we continued on with our wilderness adventure.

Wandering In The Desert

When I flew away from Malaysia, I did not go home.

True, I returned to the good ol' US of A. But not to my home in Seattle.

Instead, I landed about 1200 miles to the south, at Los Angeles International Airport. After a adrenalin-draining six-hour wait, in which I ate entirely too much ice cream, found the best phone charging station ever, and struck up a fantastic conversation with a Malaysian couple who were vacationing in the United States. I knew they were Malaysian because I overheard them saying, "Kelana Jaya."

Anyway, after that long, blurry wait, my three eldest finally arrived at the terminal and scooped me up off the curb. They had partaken in a two-day drive down the coast, and now that they had me in tow, we all headed east to fetch my youngest home from her university for the summer holiday

We spent the weekend in Tucson, and as usual, spent some time strolling around the University of Arizona. Now, I've visited several times before, and have seen the highlights of the campus. But this time was different - and special - because my Wildcat daughter has made this place her home. We weren't exploring as newcomers; this time, she was sharing her now-familiar world with her family.

And that made our visit extra interesting and extra fun.

The campus observatory is surrounded by orange trees which were currently bearing fruit. This was cool because a) my daughter is studying astronomy, and b) I love orange trees. 

I've never noticed or appreciated that there are so many different types of palm trees. Psh. I'm such a rookie. I love the feathery fronds on this one.

But come on. Saguaros are the best. I still have a major plant crush on them. 

In a funny little corner of the campus, there is a turtle pond. It's full of shockingly green water, and dozens of turtles. They were quite friendly and inquisitive fellows; definitely the most extroverted members of their species that I have ever met. 

More palm trees. 

Let me first say that I had a great time in college. I kept up an active and interesting social life, and still managed to study hard and get good grades. I always prepared for tests and handled academic stress fairly well. But there is something about this building that makes my blood run cold. I'm not sure why, but as I gazed up at those steel windows set in a rigid grid against the bright brick, I felt a solid and heavy load of scholarly stress and test anxiety hit me squarely on the shoulders like a ton of bricks. I really hate this building. 

Dainty purple flowers have a much more soothing effect on me. Thank goodness.

This charming red door, set in a rounded wall of brick and stone, is not quite connected to the ground. I like that.

And even though that scary building is lurking on the right side of this shot, I love the three palms. They are the kind with tall and skinny trunks, and I think they are very dashing.

Here we are standing in a narrow passageway, a tiny canyon created by several interesting buidings. The sun was shining in at a friendly, late afternoon angle, and we found this to be a cool and cozy retreat. My daughter said it is one of her favorite places on campus, and I can understand why.

The air of the canyon was sweet with the fragrance of flowers. Star jasmine was blooming in great glossy mounds all along the edges of the walkway, and I was in heaven. 

Tall, skinny palm tree. Tall, skinny shadow. 

The short and stock palms have their charms too; such as the woven pattern of old branches that covers their trunks. I always have to touch it to believe that it's real.

Sweetsy little mums.

Soaring skinny trees.

Any my favorite piece of architecture on campus - the center court of the Student Union Memorial Center. I love the interesting play of circles and lines, white on white, with shadows and sunlight that changes hour to hour as the sun passes by overheard. 

And that is how I spent my first full day back in the USA - wandering in the desert with my daughters. 

Today Was Full Of Sunshine

Today was full of sunshine and my front yard was filled with the scent of roses. 

Ranger enjoyed it just as much as I did. 

A Trail Of Treasures

As usual, Ranger and I went for a walk today.

As usual, we followed our established route of sidewalks and pathways, looping through neighborhoods and little patches of forest.

Much to my surprise, along the way, we discovered a series of simple chalk drawings. Clearly the work of the same artist, the sweet shapes were spaced every 15 paces or so. Just far enough apart that I couldn't see one from the next, just close enough together that I felt like I was following a treasure map. 

It might sound silly, but I found this trail of treasures to be an exciting, delightful surprise. I loved that someone had gone to the trouble to lay these little drawings out for me. And I loved that I was lucky enough to have found them before they were washed away by the rain, or scuffed away from other feet. 

And now I'm totally inspired to create a few treasure trails of my own. I'm imagining small painted rocks - turquoise, or maybe red - tucked in among the leaves and plants along the walkway. Or maybe ribbons tied in the tree branches. Or possibly balloons with notes inside? My imagination runs wild.

And I hope that whoever made this trail for me will stumble upon my little surprises, and feel the same sense of magic that I felt today.

Touchdown In Tawain

Wikipedia

On my way to Malaysia, I took a 16-hour flight from Seattle to Taiwan. When I touched down in Taipei,well-rested but disoriented, I stumbled off the plane and began taking pictures as I sought to steady my bearings.

Even in the early morning hour of my arrival, I found the Taiwanese airport to be fresh, modern and irrepressibly cheerful. As one of the economically powerful Asian tigers, I expected this little island to put on a good show. But knowing just a little bit about its complicated history, my head began to swim.

Taiwan is actually the geographic name of the island on which this airport sits. The small nation that governs this land is technically called the Republic of China. It boldly claims jurisdiction over a huge area of the nearby mainland as well, a place we know as China. Technically, People's Republic of China. But at the same time, PRC - big China - completely disregards the Republic of China as a nation, and claims this island as one of its provinces. 

Very confusing, isn't it.

Just goes to show that national identity, something I normally hold to be quite black and white, can sometimes be a very delicate and subjective matter

* * * * *.

As I was wandering around the airport and pondering this confusing state of affairs, I noticed a woman reading a departure screen. A white woman. The only other white person I had seen at the airport so far.

She noticed me also, and called me over to ask if I could help her figure out the gate information for her flight to Kuala Lumpur. 

Oh! She was going to Malaysia too. I quickly gave her the short version of my reason for traveling to KL and asked for her story.

That started a conversation that lasted for the rest of our layover, about three hours. It went something like this.

Kathy was born and raised in the United Kingdom. After university, she was living in London where she met a Malaysian man of Indian descent. They married and settled down to live a British life when her husband convinced her to pack it all up and move to Malaysia. He missed his family.  

That was the beginning of a thirty-year struggle to find a place in her new homeland. To this day, Kathy still feels unresolved confusion about her decision to leave her British roots. And while her now-grown son and daughter comfortably and happily identify as Malaysians, she continues to struggle to find her own place in her adopted culture. 

Which just goes to show, too, that nations aren't the only ones who can get confused over who they are. 

* * * * *

After pouring out her life's struggles to me, Kathy changed gears and gave me a lot of solid practical advice for my trip.

• Watch out for purse snatchers.
• Be prepared for dirty streets.
• When you hear the locals say, "mak salleh," which means "white woman," you'll know they are talking about you.

And lastly, Kathy gave me a piece of advice that suits us all, whether we are identity-seeking nation-builders,, displaced expatriates, or adventuring Americans. 

"Be yourself," she told me, "and be  proud of who you are."

Sobered by our conversation, strengthened by Kathy's advice, I boarded my final plane and flew away from Taiwan, to my Malaysian destination.