Monday, June 20, 2016

Dayshots: Catalina Island Aquaponics and Poppies

I spent a couple of days at the Wrigley Institute for Environmental Studies in March. On this visit, I got to check out the new(-ish) aquaponics system in the greenhouse. 

These goldfish shall be switched out for tilapia at some point.

We ate that head of lettuce for dinner. It was glorious. 

Such pretty roots.

The sun was strong in the green house. 

Rainwater catchment and filtration system. 

I took a stroll in the hills surrounding campus and noticed island poppies for the first time.

They were a pleasure to see after a disappointing bloom at the Antelope Valley Poppy Preserve.

Didn't get in the water very much on this trip, but did walk down the ramp for a quick dip before getting on the boat back to the mainland. I dream of a writing residency on the island someday.

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

National Poetry Month // Tuesday Night Cafe (and Los Angeles) for always

I was invited to collaborate with Shin Kawasaki for Tuesday Night Cafe's Season Opener on April 5. He's a talented musician and I wasn't sure exactly how our collaboration would work, considering I can't carry a tune nor play an instrument, or even keep time very well (I am usually that person who starts out clapping on beat, then off-beat, then stops clapping). But I said yes anyway, because I'd never worked with him before and was intrigued at the opportunity. The last time I'd read poetry with a musician on stage was years ago, also at TNC, with my good friend Cyril

Shin and I met for lunch before my trip into the San Rafael Wilderness (again, with Dunn School) and got to know each other a bit over tacos. It turned out that we had things in common that we'd never realized, and that there was a synchronicity to things that I've been writing about and things that he's been thinking about. We then worked on song lyrics together over email until we could get together in person again-- the Sunday right before TNC.
We met at his rehearsal space in Downtown LA (which he shares with other musicians to swoon over) to refine the lyrics to the song. It was magical seeing how he took the words we wrote together and put them to music. And the process of writing together, too, was new and really cool for me. I learned how a song breaks down into chorus, refrain, bridge, verse. I don't think I've ever collaborated so closely with anyone on a piece of art before-- with spoken word, I would come together with other poets, each of us with our own words. Somehow having the addition of music helped in that process. Or, it was just Shin. Shin is awesome. 

The song that we came up with was inspired by our mutual friend and longtime TNC Resident Artist David Tran aka Applesauce. David was actually the first person who ever took one of my poems and turned it into a song (which I like much more than the original piece) called That Kind of Love. I have to admit that my music listening habits haven't changed very much in the last five years, and that song (along with many other Applesauce songs) are still very much in my usual music rotation. Shin and I both visited David in Vietnam at different times, and those experiences made their way into our song. I left our Sunday session feeling inspired and wondering when I might collaborate with a musician again. And then we filled up on delicious tacos again, this time from a little spot on 1st Street I'd never been to before. There is always more delicious to be found in LA. Always. 

I dressed for radio.
The next day, I had a climbing date at Malibu Creek with one of the other Dunn School instructors. I appreciate Malibu Creek and the accessibility of climbing in LA in general so much more now that I live in the Bay Area, where few 5.10 sport climbs are to be found within an hour's drive, though, yes, Yosemite is just 3.5 hours away.

After climbing, I went straight to (In N Out and then) to KPFK, where Quincy and I spoke with Saba Waheed on Flip The Script about TNC. I read a couple of poems, talked about what the space has meant to me as a writer/artist/community member, and touched on family and Khmer American identity. You can listen to the show here.

And then, the day came. The Tateuchi Democracy Forum was packed to the brim. I wasn't as nervous beforehand as I usually am before getting on stage. Even with all the different faces in the crowd and behind the scenes, the space still felt like home-- there were so many wonderful familiar faces, still. Also, as I said to fellow poet Audrey Kuo, it was a queer Asian American poetry quadruple decker sandwich on the stage that night! In addition to the two of us, Jenevieve Ting and Jess X Chen each graced the stage with their poetry.

Shin and I got to close out the night. I read a few pieces while Shin played in the background, and then he got ready to sing our song. I walked offstage to sit and enjoy, but was urged to get back on stage. I was offered a mic, but I declined. I also insisted that Sean get up there with me for moral and pantomiming support. I was so happy when others joined us, (around 2:40).
My sleepy introvert tendencies had me leaving soon after the show ended, but it was a lovely, lovely night. I'm so glad to still be a part of this community after having left the staff and then the city years ago. 

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Big Sur, Big Rains // A loop around the Silver Peak Wilderness, Part 2

Finally finishing this up after spending time in LA, doing a trip with Dunn's Sophomores, and a personal backpacking trip with friends along the Pine Ridge Trail in Big Sur.

Thursday PM: Estrella Campground to Spruce Campground

The navigation out of Estrella was challenging, and I have to give the students a lot of credit for finding the route. There were a few use trails which led to impassable spots, and we had to explore up and down the creek to find a way. Luckily, one of the students in the other group had mentioned to us a knee-deep water crossing, which was key in helping us find the way. While I tend to prefer to navigate based on landmarks and terrain, the compass was extremely useful after we crossed the creek, and I wish I had it out sooner as it would have saved us some time. I was thankful for my students' patience and their ability to stay in good spirits. 

On this stretch of Salmon Creek Trail, we were stopped in our tracks by deadfall-- two large trees had been knocked down across the trail, making it look impassable. I tried to scout out a way around it down the hill, to no avail. Here was another lesson for me; I could have saved time by looking more closely at the deadfall first. It turned out that the trees were stable, though of course awkward to get around with a big pack. I helped them each across and many of them found that it wasn't as hard as they originally thought. 

The rest of the way to Spruce was, thankfully, very straightforward. The girls later told me that I started hiking very fast after we crossed that obstacle. I was eager to get to camp, and glad to take advantage of the downhill trail. We came upon Spruce Camp very suddenly after crossing a low creek, and walked past it to the trail junction because it seemed to come up so soon. There was no signage at this campground other than an arrow pointing to the trail across the creek and one of the students adamantly said she would make a sign there so that no one else would make that unnecessary .15-mile uphill trek. I'm not sure it happened, but it was a nice thought. 

At this point, knowing how much poison oak we'd just trampled through, I passed around some poison oak wipes for everyone to use on their face, hands, any skin that had been exposed during our hike. I haven't yet had a poison oak reaction myself, but that doesn't mean I won't. Sneaky plant, that. I'd previously used Tecnu for washing off poison oak on trips, never wipes, and I still prefer it. 

That night, during our satellite-phone check-in (the connection was awful), I learned that more bad weather was coming in, and we were to hike out early the next morning and get back to school rather than to have the planned car-camping night with the other groups. I facilitated a small closing ceremony after letting everyone know the new plan. There was some celebration by the students that there would be one less night of camping, which is to be expected with a compulsory trip, and I let them know that I regretted that they wouldn't be able to gather with the other hiking groups as planned. Sharing experiences with one another before returning to school is a very special part of trips like this, and would probably have been extra interesting for them with all the weather-related challenges we had in the beginning.

It was a very warm closing ceremony, and we got to bed early. Just before turning in for the night, I found a tick attached to my left side, explaining the strange ache I'd felt there all day. In my fatigued state, I pried the tick off ungently before even thinking to reach into the first aid kit for tweezers. Ticks have to be attached for at least 36 hours to transmit Lyme Disease, and tiny nymphal ticks are much more likely than adult ticks to stay attached for that long. Still, upon returning to town, I was glad to be prescribed a round of antibiotics (doxycycline) as a preventative measure.

Friday: Spruce Campground to Salmon Creek Trailhead

We woke for our very last morning stretch at 6AM, put out breakfast, and began to take down camp. As predicted, at 7AM, the first drops of rain began to fall and quickly escalated. We got out of camp 1.5 hours after waking, and covered the two miles in around an hour. Everyone was in relatively good spirits, which is not surprising since we were heading toward hot showers and warm, dry beds.

The last mile winding down toward the trailhead was especially lovely, the switchbacked hills covered in poppies, beautiful even with their petals closed against the rain.

There was much rejoicing as we reached the vehicles-- we were the first ones out. Soon after we arrived, a school vehicle pulled up. The trip director was in the process of evacuating an instructor for a severe poison oak reaction. By the time the evacuation happened and all the groups were out and ready to caravan, the storm had fully established its presence.

Back to School

Statistically speaking, driving is the riskiest part of most outdoor programs. The hour spent winding around Highway 1 under sheets of rain and gusts of wind required my full concentration. The students slept through it, for the most part. There were moments when it poured so hard that I considered pulling over just before they passed. I felt sweet relief upon pulling into the gravel lot back at Dunn.

The students were gathered, gear was collected, and they were dismissed at around noon. Due to the change in schedule, the post-trip clean-up which students would typically participate in was left to us instructors. Not ideal or efficient, but so these things go sometimes. Gear cleanup and storage is a vital part of all trips, and I wish the students had been able to participate in it.

Thankfully, the next day and a half were sunny and warm as we dried out the tents, laundered the sleeping bags, tested and fixed the stoves. And then we were done.

After Thoughts

I would love to return to the Silver Peak Wilderness and do this same loop on a personal trip. Some of the erosion along the trails is worrisome, but manageable. This trip was the first time I held such primary responsibility for wilderness skills and risk management, and to be honest I started out quite intimidated. I heard somewhere that a great way to learn something is to teach it. I became a backpacking instructor two years ago with only two short personal trips under my belt, and I'm continuously refining my skills and learning more about pedagogy and facilitation. This recent increase in responsibility has improved my confidence in both my outdoor skills and my leadership skills, and it's taught me that I still have a lot to learn about managing time, giving structured and unstructured lessons, and facilitation.

It's surprising how these trips seem both long and short. Something about being removed from your daily context that does funny things to time. One moment it's only beginning, and all of a sudden it's over. I look forward to the next.