Sunday-June 5, 2011
Hood River, OR
Our small team is fast approaching the start date of our Oregon Waters: Summit to Sea Event.
Starting in June the Beachwalk Team will be descending from the snowy summit of Mt. Hood, and following the snow melt on foot, bike and paddle as it flows down the Hood River, out to the Columbia to the sea by Astoria. From Astoria our team will turn south to walk and paddle the coast of Oregon to the border of California.
Oregon Waters: Summit to Sea is to celebrate Oregon communities and organizations that have taken positive steps to face environmental challenges in our watersheds. Starting with groups such as Columbia Riverkeeper whose offices are in Hood River, we will be meeting unique individuals and groups along the way to highlight some of the challenges in Oregon and how Oregonians have been innovative in addressing them.
This Sunday, in preparation for the launch date, I climbed up Mt. Hood via the Palmer Glacier and skied down. My late start allowed to me to meet everyone as they headed down from earlier summits and share a somewhat winded/exhausted hello between breaths. This was one of those situations where the LATE bird, not the EARLY got the worm and I was treated to the rare opportunity to have the summit all by myself. Nothing but wind, sky, snow and as rather 'philosophical' climber mentioned to me today, "Time with no ceiling".
I look forward to coming up here again in a few weeks to start Oregon - Summit to Sea.
As I prepared for my ski down, I wiped some snow from my helmet. The wind blew it over a cornice and it drifted one thousand feet below me onto the Eliot Glacier. I thought for a moment that the snow, so slow to melt on the summit, may take thirty years or more to finally reach the Columbia River. Thirty years from now, it might pass through the gills of a Salmon. The condition of that Salmon will be the legacy of our generation for the next.
Angry Herons at 5 o'clock
Saturday - Oct 23, 2010 - Hood River, OR
This past Saturday the darn cat woke me at 3:30 am wanting to eat. At first I was mad, but finding myself fully awake I decide to rally on the river. I launch into the Columbia around 4:30 am and paddle on dark water under the haze of the moon diffused behind a veil of clouds. The water is glass, the geese are sleeping and I surprise them as I paddle by. I don’t speak Geese, but I pick up that they’re pissed. I am surrounded on both sides by the 1500 foot walls of the Gorge including the cliff escarpments of Mitchell point on my left and Dog Mountain in the distance on my right. Oh, if they could have enough snow to ski on them some day. I pass by some smaller tree and moss capped monolithic basalt islands rising up 50 feet out of the water. I paddle by the exposed trunks of trees drowned nearly 50 years ago with the Bonneville dam. They rise out of the water nearly 2 feet appearing, in the limited light as the dark shadowed heads of human spirits watching me.
As sunlight starts to lift to the east I find myself under the Native American fishing platforms where bits and pieces of rough cut lumber and drift wood have been patched together loosely and suspended over the water with salvaged steel cable. Hoop nets, tangles of gill nets and buoys lay scattered on the platforms and shoreline. Function, not neatness seems to be the virtue of natives. I pass by a small, shanty, indigenous lodge built on a cliff by the platforms.
“Hallo” I call, hoping that an old native will step out, smelling of smoke and wiping the sleep from his eyes and deep wrinkles. No such luck, although I am answered by a squacking Blue Heron, clearly irked by my interruption. Just for fun I imagine it is the wise native fisherman that has shifted his spirit.
Paddling back to Hood River into the sunrise, I pause under the 207 foot Wah-Gwin-Gwin falls ("tumbling or rushing waters") beneath the sleeping Columbia Gorge Hotel. The stench of Salmon Carcasses fill the air and fill the river with the gifts of five years of nutrients gathered from the ocean over 160 miles away.
My mother calls from Lake George, NY and we chat as she shares the view with me and the paddle back to the beach. I imagine in her own red kayak alongside me as we paddle in the light drizzle that has arrived to wash the haze off the morning.
One hundred yards more and I’m back on shore, and pull my skirt. yah...I wear a skirt. Proud of it. I start to shiver. The thought of making coffee while my family still sleeps and my dog and cat stare at me for breakfast warms me, starting with the smile.
This past Saturday the darn cat woke me at 3:30 am wanting to eat. At first I was mad, but finding myself fully awake I decide to rally on the river. I launch into the Columbia around 4:30 am and paddle on dark water under the haze of the moon diffused behind a veil of clouds. The water is glass, the geese are sleeping and I surprise them as I paddle by. I don’t speak Geese, but I pick up that they’re pissed. I am surrounded on both sides by the 1500 foot walls of the Gorge including the cliff escarpments of Mitchell point on my left and Dog Mountain in the distance on my right. Oh, if they could have enough snow to ski on them some day. I pass by some smaller tree and moss capped monolithic basalt islands rising up 50 feet out of the water. I paddle by the exposed trunks of trees drowned nearly 50 years ago with the Bonneville dam. They rise out of the water nearly 2 feet appearing, in the limited light as the dark shadowed heads of human spirits watching me.
As sunlight starts to lift to the east I find myself under the Native American fishing platforms where bits and pieces of rough cut lumber and drift wood have been patched together loosely and suspended over the water with salvaged steel cable. Hoop nets, tangles of gill nets and buoys lay scattered on the platforms and shoreline. Function, not neatness seems to be the virtue of natives. I pass by a small, shanty, indigenous lodge built on a cliff by the platforms.
“Hallo” I call, hoping that an old native will step out, smelling of smoke and wiping the sleep from his eyes and deep wrinkles. No such luck, although I am answered by a squacking Blue Heron, clearly irked by my interruption. Just for fun I imagine it is the wise native fisherman that has shifted his spirit.
Paddling back to Hood River into the sunrise, I pause under the 207 foot Wah-Gwin-Gwin falls ("tumbling or rushing waters") beneath the sleeping Columbia Gorge Hotel. The stench of Salmon Carcasses fill the air and fill the river with the gifts of five years of nutrients gathered from the ocean over 160 miles away.
My mother calls from Lake George, NY and we chat as she shares the view with me and the paddle back to the beach. I imagine in her own red kayak alongside me as we paddle in the light drizzle that has arrived to wash the haze off the morning.
One hundred yards more and I’m back on shore, and pull my skirt. yah...I wear a skirt. Proud of it. I start to shiver. The thought of making coffee while my family still sleeps and my dog and cat stare at me for breakfast warms me, starting with the smile.
Oct 16, 2010-Hood River-Lumpy waters at home
Today as many other kayakers head out to the coast for the Alder Creek, Lumpy Waters event, I quietly allow the ocean to come to me. 20 pound salmon fattened with their years at sea, return to spawn and die. I paddle across the Columbia River, past patient fishermen and up the chilly White Salmon River. My boat and I are surrounded by hundreds of Salmon returning to the river. Their bodies, infested with parasites and are targets for a plethora of predators because they bring with them the much needed nutrition that the more sterile forest waters crave.
Rotting corpses feed seagulls, small fish and many plants in the riparian area.
160 miles they travel to return this favor to their place of birth. Imagine if we all did the same level of instinctive sacrifice for our places of birth?
Rotting corpses feed seagulls, small fish and many plants in the riparian area.
160 miles they travel to return this favor to their place of birth. Imagine if we all did the same level of instinctive sacrifice for our places of birth?
Tuesday June 9, 2009 - Losing their lives for clean water
Tuesday June 9, 2009 - Losing their lives for clean water
Today I learned the true cost of defending water. Two friends of mine have lost family members during a protest last week in Peru to protect their village and water
They were protesting the Peruvian government’s policy to open their lands for oil and gas development. A practice that has severely compromised the quality of their water in the recent past.
Peru is surprisingly close to the United States. I think sometimes in the US we take for granted that clean water is an environmental issue that can only affect tourism. If left unchecked clean water threats can quickly become a humanitarian issue.
Link to Article:
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5j9pNpad9T95Yc7VQREA4BViTQRhwD98KUCCG0?index=2
Today I learned the true cost of defending water. Two friends of mine have lost family members during a protest last week in Peru to protect their village and water
They were protesting the Peruvian government’s policy to open their lands for oil and gas development. A practice that has severely compromised the quality of their water in the recent past.
Peru is surprisingly close to the United States. I think sometimes in the US we take for granted that clean water is an environmental issue that can only affect tourism. If left unchecked clean water threats can quickly become a humanitarian issue.
Link to Article:
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5j9pNpad9T95Yc7VQREA4BViTQRhwD98KUCCG0?index=2
Monday May 18, 2009 - Sailn' Through the Gorge
Monday May 18, 2009 - Sailn' Through the Gorge. Viento - Hood River(10 miles)
45 knots, 45 degrees and 4-5 foot swells--welcome to the Gorge! I'll keep it short, but what a great afternoon paddle on the gorge. West winds carried me upriver to our happy town of Hood River against a 2 knot current of chilly snowmelt heading down to the Pacific Ocean.
After entering from a rocky beach at Viento Park, I headed over to a native american fishing village where I was just in time to watch them bring up nets filled with massive spring running salmon.
Sailing through the famous windsurfing spots, Hatchery, and Swell City I had the thrill of surfing while still over 140 miles from the nearest coast.
It has been challenging to watch three great projects get underway while still working on the next leg of Beachwalk Project.
Roz Savage is about to embark on the next phase of her Pacific Ocean paddle-http://rozsavage.com/
Margo Pelligrino is completing her paddle of the Gulf Coast-http://www.miami2maine.com/Miami2Maine/Welcome.html
and
Christopher Swain prepares for his Atlantic Coast swim-
http://www.swimforcleanwater.org/
All these individuals are using their adventure to raise awareness for the protection of clean water. Planning a personal adventure is challenging enough, but trying to incorporate a cause into it can sometimes be a bit daunting. I admire their ambition and more importantly their persistent optimism.
45 knots, 45 degrees and 4-5 foot swells--welcome to the Gorge! I'll keep it short, but what a great afternoon paddle on the gorge. West winds carried me upriver to our happy town of Hood River against a 2 knot current of chilly snowmelt heading down to the Pacific Ocean.
After entering from a rocky beach at Viento Park, I headed over to a native american fishing village where I was just in time to watch them bring up nets filled with massive spring running salmon.
Sailing through the famous windsurfing spots, Hatchery, and Swell City I had the thrill of surfing while still over 140 miles from the nearest coast.
It has been challenging to watch three great projects get underway while still working on the next leg of Beachwalk Project.
Roz Savage is about to embark on the next phase of her Pacific Ocean paddle-http://rozsavage.com/
Margo Pelligrino is completing her paddle of the Gulf Coast-http://www.miami2maine.com/Miami2Maine/Welcome.html
and
Christopher Swain prepares for his Atlantic Coast swim-
http://www.swimforcleanwater.org/
All these individuals are using their adventure to raise awareness for the protection of clean water. Planning a personal adventure is challenging enough, but trying to incorporate a cause into it can sometimes be a bit daunting. I admire their ambition and more importantly their persistent optimism.
Saturday November 1, 2008 – Magic of the Columbia River
Saturday November 1, 2008 – Magic of the Columbia River
Beacon Rock - Washougal (18.8 miles)
Over 1200 miles long, the Columbia River (known as Wimahl or Big River in the Gorge region’s native Chinook Language) is America’s fifth largest river by volume. It is along the banks of this quiet giant of a river in a small town named Hood River that I have been preparing for the next venture for the Beachwalk Project. Having a watershed near the size of France and draining two Canadian provences and seven US states (Idaho, Oregon, Washington, Montana, Wyoming, Utah & Nevada) you can imagine that the Columbia must have a variety scenery that it passes through. This weekend’s paddle was no exception.
I had the luck of meeting up with Dan Gavere from Werner Paddles who happened to be in town for the weekend.
“I’ve got a great paddle for us.” I said over the phone on Friday. “Distance? Oh yeah…ten, maybe twelve miles, but great topography!”
Feeling less confident about my distance estimation, as Dan pulled out a new hand held nautical GPS, I tried to distract him from marking his first waypoint. “Hey Dan check that out. That’s Beacon Rock. Did some of my first rock climbing there. Pretty amazing eh?”
Beacon Rock, the basalt core of an ancient volcano, is a monolythic wonder. Rising nearly 850 feet out of the waters of the Columbia, it offers hundreds of rock climbs.
“Sounds like great run.” was Dan’s reply as I pointed out the rather sketchy hiking trail on Beacon that was completed in the 1920’s with cantilevered bridges spanning rock faces. Only slightly distracted, Dan still remembered to mark his waypoint on the GPS….
”Drat.”
Gathering our gear we paddled out into the Columbia. A 2-3 knot current coupled with a steady 15 – 20 knot tailwind promised our travel would be quick. As we paddled into the main channel we must have appeared a strange apparition for the still groggy fishermen. I sitting low in my mango orange Old Town kayak along side a long haired fellow who appeared to be walking on water and sweeping it at the same time.
You see Dan is one of the early Guru’s of the now fastest growing paddling sport of stand up boards. Over the course of the day I began to understand why Dan, with over 30 years of kayaking under his belt, has chosen stand up to be his current favorite paddling sport. He literally surfed downriver.
“I thought he was walking on water.” was the comment from one of the fishermen upon seeing Dan surf by..
“Or you had run up on another sandbar again.” came the rebuttal from his shipmate.
The winds picked up steadily as Dan I entered the middle of our venture. Surfing on some good sized waves we turned to our left and peering beyond one of Columbia’s many fast moving river barges we could see the 700 foot cascade of Multnohmah Falls. The falls diverted our attention only for a moment as a three tiered, 80 foot paddle boat from nearby Cascade Locks headed our way and ushered us downriver to Phoca Rock a one hundred foot high rock island rising out of the middle of the Columbia.
A sudden gust knocked down my kite and as I fumbled with the lines Dan pulled ashore and scaled Phoca for a better view. We regrouped in the wind-shadow offered by the bold island and then continued to the base of the edifice of Cape Horn, a quarter mile span of sheer basalt cliffs rising over 900 feet out of the river. I marveled at the persistance, against all odds, of a bonsai-like evergreen that clung tenaciously to the tip of the actual horn, a needle like rock formation that stands alone from the cliffs in the water.
The small network of roots, shrubs and mosses that clung to the base of the tree reminded me of the rewards for persistant people with a purpose. Slowly, over time and against all odds those people begin to build a network that builds on their work, and, over time change can be seen. Slow change, however, like the slow growth of the tree generates deep roots, and even when the tree actually dies, the roots that it leaves behind serve as a solid foundation for more generations to build upon.
Okay, don’t worry, I won’t get too philosophical with our venture at Beachwalk Project. I will be the first to admit that we are still amateurs in the area of Watershed stewardship. It is my hope, however, that our advocating efforts will motivate a child in a community to become that tenacious tree that creates change against all odds.
After a few hours, Dan and I finished our paddle at Steamboat Landing in Washougal. After loading our craft, we huddled in Dan’s van and like starving parrots feasted on roasted pistachios, reminding me of Stein’s saying, “the best spice in any food is hunger.”
Turns out our paddle was nearly 19 miles not the 12 that I had predicted. I’m still convinced the GPS is wrong. I also still think that it was pure dumn luck that Dan completed the paddle way ahead of me in a ‘casual’ manner. Just the same it was another gift to be back on the water.
In a matter of months, the small team of Beachwalk Project will be heading out of Seattle on our paddle out the Puget Sound and then South down the Pacific Coast. Once again we will be advocating for communities and specifically children of communities to rally behind the small organizations in their region that have been working to protect their local watersheds. We expect to organize and participate in over 50 different events in schools, aquariums, nature centers and on the beach.
Dan Gavere and everyone at Werner Paddles has been gracious enough to gather behind our project in support of our efforts.
Thank you to Werner, his wife and two sons for making such a great company that is so supportive of protecting the waters we live and play in. Thank you to Dan for his enthusiasm for our project, and his encouragement. The Beachwalk team is small, but the help of so many of our friends has helped us so much in reaching all the communities along the coast.
Beacon Rock - Washougal (18.8 miles)
Over 1200 miles long, the Columbia River (known as Wimahl or Big River in the Gorge region’s native Chinook Language) is America’s fifth largest river by volume. It is along the banks of this quiet giant of a river in a small town named Hood River that I have been preparing for the next venture for the Beachwalk Project. Having a watershed near the size of France and draining two Canadian provences and seven US states (Idaho, Oregon, Washington, Montana, Wyoming, Utah & Nevada) you can imagine that the Columbia must have a variety scenery that it passes through. This weekend’s paddle was no exception.
I had the luck of meeting up with Dan Gavere from Werner Paddles who happened to be in town for the weekend.
“I’ve got a great paddle for us.” I said over the phone on Friday. “Distance? Oh yeah…ten, maybe twelve miles, but great topography!”
Feeling less confident about my distance estimation, as Dan pulled out a new hand held nautical GPS, I tried to distract him from marking his first waypoint. “Hey Dan check that out. That’s Beacon Rock. Did some of my first rock climbing there. Pretty amazing eh?”
Beacon Rock, the basalt core of an ancient volcano, is a monolythic wonder. Rising nearly 850 feet out of the waters of the Columbia, it offers hundreds of rock climbs.
“Sounds like great run.” was Dan’s reply as I pointed out the rather sketchy hiking trail on Beacon that was completed in the 1920’s with cantilevered bridges spanning rock faces. Only slightly distracted, Dan still remembered to mark his waypoint on the GPS….
”Drat.”
Gathering our gear we paddled out into the Columbia. A 2-3 knot current coupled with a steady 15 – 20 knot tailwind promised our travel would be quick. As we paddled into the main channel we must have appeared a strange apparition for the still groggy fishermen. I sitting low in my mango orange Old Town kayak along side a long haired fellow who appeared to be walking on water and sweeping it at the same time.
You see Dan is one of the early Guru’s of the now fastest growing paddling sport of stand up boards. Over the course of the day I began to understand why Dan, with over 30 years of kayaking under his belt, has chosen stand up to be his current favorite paddling sport. He literally surfed downriver.
“I thought he was walking on water.” was the comment from one of the fishermen upon seeing Dan surf by..
“Or you had run up on another sandbar again.” came the rebuttal from his shipmate.
The winds picked up steadily as Dan I entered the middle of our venture. Surfing on some good sized waves we turned to our left and peering beyond one of Columbia’s many fast moving river barges we could see the 700 foot cascade of Multnohmah Falls. The falls diverted our attention only for a moment as a three tiered, 80 foot paddle boat from nearby Cascade Locks headed our way and ushered us downriver to Phoca Rock a one hundred foot high rock island rising out of the middle of the Columbia.
A sudden gust knocked down my kite and as I fumbled with the lines Dan pulled ashore and scaled Phoca for a better view. We regrouped in the wind-shadow offered by the bold island and then continued to the base of the edifice of Cape Horn, a quarter mile span of sheer basalt cliffs rising over 900 feet out of the river. I marveled at the persistance, against all odds, of a bonsai-like evergreen that clung tenaciously to the tip of the actual horn, a needle like rock formation that stands alone from the cliffs in the water.
The small network of roots, shrubs and mosses that clung to the base of the tree reminded me of the rewards for persistant people with a purpose. Slowly, over time and against all odds those people begin to build a network that builds on their work, and, over time change can be seen. Slow change, however, like the slow growth of the tree generates deep roots, and even when the tree actually dies, the roots that it leaves behind serve as a solid foundation for more generations to build upon.
Okay, don’t worry, I won’t get too philosophical with our venture at Beachwalk Project. I will be the first to admit that we are still amateurs in the area of Watershed stewardship. It is my hope, however, that our advocating efforts will motivate a child in a community to become that tenacious tree that creates change against all odds.
After a few hours, Dan and I finished our paddle at Steamboat Landing in Washougal. After loading our craft, we huddled in Dan’s van and like starving parrots feasted on roasted pistachios, reminding me of Stein’s saying, “the best spice in any food is hunger.”
Turns out our paddle was nearly 19 miles not the 12 that I had predicted. I’m still convinced the GPS is wrong. I also still think that it was pure dumn luck that Dan completed the paddle way ahead of me in a ‘casual’ manner. Just the same it was another gift to be back on the water.
In a matter of months, the small team of Beachwalk Project will be heading out of Seattle on our paddle out the Puget Sound and then South down the Pacific Coast. Once again we will be advocating for communities and specifically children of communities to rally behind the small organizations in their region that have been working to protect their local watersheds. We expect to organize and participate in over 50 different events in schools, aquariums, nature centers and on the beach.
Dan Gavere and everyone at Werner Paddles has been gracious enough to gather behind our project in support of our efforts.
Thank you to Werner, his wife and two sons for making such a great company that is so supportive of protecting the waters we live and play in. Thank you to Dan for his enthusiasm for our project, and his encouragement. The Beachwalk team is small, but the help of so many of our friends has helped us so much in reaching all the communities along the coast.
Sunday March 30, 2008 – History, Trash and Movies
Sunday March 30, 2008 – History, Trash and Movies
(0 miles)
It was 10 am and despite the high angle of the sun, the light struggled to pierce the thick canopy of leaves that hung over my head. Behind me in the distance I could hear ocean waves crashing on the shell covered beaches of Tanguissan. A thin mist hovered just above the surface of the jungle floor as I pushed further into the darkness. I lowered the brim of my hat and there, concealed in the shadows alongside a fallen palm leaf, I found what I had come to see, an ancient pottery shard from over 500 years ago. Essentially, ancient trash. As I moved forward for a closer look, a single beam of light pierced the rustling leaves and illuminated the weathered artifact that had been constructed by the taotaomo’na or ‘ancestors’ of Guam.
CRUNCH! I stumbled as my foot pressed down on an empty beer can concealed on the jungle floor.
CRACK! Startled by the noise I jumped only to land on a half broken glass bottle.
SQUISH…POP! To regain my balance I stepped backwards landing my foot and all my body weight firmly on a three day old, disposable diaper; the festering contents of which exploded from the seams threatening to spackle my shoes and lower legs.
It is a Chamorro belief that the jungle needs to be respected. It is believed that before even entering the jungle one has to ask permission. But of course on this particular day I entered the jungle to find it littered, not with the artifacts of Guam’s forepeople but instead with the artificats of twenty first century.
Beverage cans, styrofoam plates, batteries, laminated chip bags, toilet paper and dirty diapers all littered the floor of the jungle. This area, supposedly a sacred area where the taotaomo’na spirits live, is now a trash dump.
Today members of the Beachwalk Project gathered together with Underwater World, students of the Marine Mania Biology Club and students of Sharks M.A.D.E.(Making a Difference in the Environment) to clean up Tanguissan Beach. With about twenty volunteers and four hours, the small group filled over eighty trash bags and thirty bags with recyclable bottles.
“My grandfather taught me to ask permission just to enter the jungle.” said Evelyn to Lacee Martinez of the Pacific Daily News, “today people just use it as a place to bring their trash.”
The future, however looks promising. Of those picking up trash today, the majority of the participants were high school students participating in clubs such as Marine Mania mentored by individuals like Linda Tatreau who have found there is a large group of students in Guam who feel compelled to, “to promote marine awareness and to protect the environment.”
Later that evening as the sun fell below the horizon and the sky became dark Evelyn and I found ourselves at Asan Beach for Movies in the Park to present photos of our travels along the coastlines of America. Our last photo was of the trash at Tanguissan Beach. Our challenge is to take the same photo, in the same spot next year. Will there still be the trash? Or will the actions of people like Linda Tatreau, and the students of Marine Mania and M.A.D.E. inspire others to demonstrate respect for the jungles of Guam which serve as the home for not just the ancestors of our past like the taotaomo’na but more importantly for the people of our future like our children.
(0 miles)
It was 10 am and despite the high angle of the sun, the light struggled to pierce the thick canopy of leaves that hung over my head. Behind me in the distance I could hear ocean waves crashing on the shell covered beaches of Tanguissan. A thin mist hovered just above the surface of the jungle floor as I pushed further into the darkness. I lowered the brim of my hat and there, concealed in the shadows alongside a fallen palm leaf, I found what I had come to see, an ancient pottery shard from over 500 years ago. Essentially, ancient trash. As I moved forward for a closer look, a single beam of light pierced the rustling leaves and illuminated the weathered artifact that had been constructed by the taotaomo’na or ‘ancestors’ of Guam.
CRUNCH! I stumbled as my foot pressed down on an empty beer can concealed on the jungle floor.
CRACK! Startled by the noise I jumped only to land on a half broken glass bottle.
SQUISH…POP! To regain my balance I stepped backwards landing my foot and all my body weight firmly on a three day old, disposable diaper; the festering contents of which exploded from the seams threatening to spackle my shoes and lower legs.
It is a Chamorro belief that the jungle needs to be respected. It is believed that before even entering the jungle one has to ask permission. But of course on this particular day I entered the jungle to find it littered, not with the artifacts of Guam’s forepeople but instead with the artificats of twenty first century.
Beverage cans, styrofoam plates, batteries, laminated chip bags, toilet paper and dirty diapers all littered the floor of the jungle. This area, supposedly a sacred area where the taotaomo’na spirits live, is now a trash dump.
Today members of the Beachwalk Project gathered together with Underwater World, students of the Marine Mania Biology Club and students of Sharks M.A.D.E.(Making a Difference in the Environment) to clean up Tanguissan Beach. With about twenty volunteers and four hours, the small group filled over eighty trash bags and thirty bags with recyclable bottles.
“My grandfather taught me to ask permission just to enter the jungle.” said Evelyn to Lacee Martinez of the Pacific Daily News, “today people just use it as a place to bring their trash.”
The future, however looks promising. Of those picking up trash today, the majority of the participants were high school students participating in clubs such as Marine Mania mentored by individuals like Linda Tatreau who have found there is a large group of students in Guam who feel compelled to, “to promote marine awareness and to protect the environment.”
Later that evening as the sun fell below the horizon and the sky became dark Evelyn and I found ourselves at Asan Beach for Movies in the Park to present photos of our travels along the coastlines of America. Our last photo was of the trash at Tanguissan Beach. Our challenge is to take the same photo, in the same spot next year. Will there still be the trash? Or will the actions of people like Linda Tatreau, and the students of Marine Mania and M.A.D.E. inspire others to demonstrate respect for the jungles of Guam which serve as the home for not just the ancestors of our past like the taotaomo’na but more importantly for the people of our future like our children.
Saturday March 29, 2008 – Day at the Races!
Saturday March 29, 2008 – Day at the Races!
(0 miles)
Today we went to the races in Tumon Bay. Starting early at 7 am, the Interscholastic High School Paddling Races launched the outrigger racing season. The day began with the traditional blessing of a new outrigger added to a fleet of outrigger canoes at Matapang beach. Although the students attempted to stand still and show respect for this event, they shifted and struggled to suppress the tension of competition that hung in warm, humid air.
As the sun slipped higher into the horizon the first of the 6 person canoes headed off the beach and into the clear waters of Tumon Bay. As the remaining boats pushed off, I closed my eyes and imagined the crafts that had departed from this very spot hundreds of years before the Spanish had even arrived.
It was organized chaos as the 500 meter races began and the silhoettes of the first canoes approached from the South. Commands coming from the canoe teams echoed across the still water to the onlookers on the beach, who began to stir and murmur as the canoes neared the finish line. Coaches in their wide-brimmed straw hatts trotted barefoot in ankle deep water keeping pace with the boats of their team. A cheer erupted as the first team passed the finish line while other coaches encouraged the remaining teams to continue to paddle hard for the finish. 500 meters was covered in times as fast as 2 minutes 20 seconds which translates into an average boat speed of about 7.5 miles an hour. Could you wakeboard behind that?
The action continued for much of the morning as the they ran Girls, Boys and Mixed heats. Evelyn and I toured the tents that lined the beach to meet with the various teams hiding from the hot sun including her old school, JFK and the Simon Sanchez Sharks whose school we had presented to earlier this week.
I wondered what these students would be doing on this particular Saturday if the races did not exist. Where would they be? I admire the principal supported by Guam Kayak and Canoe Federation which encourages an appreciation for the environmental and cultural traditions of the island through the promotion of both recreational and competitive paddling sports.
Steve Kasperbauer for Alupang Beach Club agrees.
“The more people get out on this water and see how incredible it is, the more they will want to get involved in the protection of it.” said Steve when I talked with him earlier this week.
Our team has also discovered that paddlers, windsurfers, surfers and fishers alike are more invested and aware of the importance of protecting waters in the regions where they pursue their recreation.
As the midday sun reached high into the sky, and the races came to a close for the day, another paddle entered the water. It was that of Sean Pangelinan. His craft was a narrow, kevlar fiber olympic canoe. Quietly kneeling, Sean paddled swifty across the glassy waters of the bay practicing what is a relatively new sport for him but has been a medal sport in the Olympics since 1936. Onlookers paused from their games in the water to watch as this curious craft drifted by, barely creating ripples in the water. Passing by the High School competitors, his paddling was an inspiration for them just as current Olympians stand as an inspiration for him.
I think to myself, “Where will Sean be twenty years from now? Where will his love for water and competition in these beautiful boats take him and how will he use this unique talent and passion to make a difference in the lives of the people he meets along the way?”
I am clearly not destined to be an Olympian and chances are that many of the High School competitors will experience a fate similar to mine. What I do hope is that each of us will consider what gifts and what passions we do have and use them in a way that makes this funny place called earth a little better than we found it.
(0 miles)
Today we went to the races in Tumon Bay. Starting early at 7 am, the Interscholastic High School Paddling Races launched the outrigger racing season. The day began with the traditional blessing of a new outrigger added to a fleet of outrigger canoes at Matapang beach. Although the students attempted to stand still and show respect for this event, they shifted and struggled to suppress the tension of competition that hung in warm, humid air.
As the sun slipped higher into the horizon the first of the 6 person canoes headed off the beach and into the clear waters of Tumon Bay. As the remaining boats pushed off, I closed my eyes and imagined the crafts that had departed from this very spot hundreds of years before the Spanish had even arrived.
It was organized chaos as the 500 meter races began and the silhoettes of the first canoes approached from the South. Commands coming from the canoe teams echoed across the still water to the onlookers on the beach, who began to stir and murmur as the canoes neared the finish line. Coaches in their wide-brimmed straw hatts trotted barefoot in ankle deep water keeping pace with the boats of their team. A cheer erupted as the first team passed the finish line while other coaches encouraged the remaining teams to continue to paddle hard for the finish. 500 meters was covered in times as fast as 2 minutes 20 seconds which translates into an average boat speed of about 7.5 miles an hour. Could you wakeboard behind that?
The action continued for much of the morning as the they ran Girls, Boys and Mixed heats. Evelyn and I toured the tents that lined the beach to meet with the various teams hiding from the hot sun including her old school, JFK and the Simon Sanchez Sharks whose school we had presented to earlier this week.
I wondered what these students would be doing on this particular Saturday if the races did not exist. Where would they be? I admire the principal supported by Guam Kayak and Canoe Federation which encourages an appreciation for the environmental and cultural traditions of the island through the promotion of both recreational and competitive paddling sports.
Steve Kasperbauer for Alupang Beach Club agrees.
“The more people get out on this water and see how incredible it is, the more they will want to get involved in the protection of it.” said Steve when I talked with him earlier this week.
Our team has also discovered that paddlers, windsurfers, surfers and fishers alike are more invested and aware of the importance of protecting waters in the regions where they pursue their recreation.
As the midday sun reached high into the sky, and the races came to a close for the day, another paddle entered the water. It was that of Sean Pangelinan. His craft was a narrow, kevlar fiber olympic canoe. Quietly kneeling, Sean paddled swifty across the glassy waters of the bay practicing what is a relatively new sport for him but has been a medal sport in the Olympics since 1936. Onlookers paused from their games in the water to watch as this curious craft drifted by, barely creating ripples in the water. Passing by the High School competitors, his paddling was an inspiration for them just as current Olympians stand as an inspiration for him.
I think to myself, “Where will Sean be twenty years from now? Where will his love for water and competition in these beautiful boats take him and how will he use this unique talent and passion to make a difference in the lives of the people he meets along the way?”
I am clearly not destined to be an Olympian and chances are that many of the High School competitors will experience a fate similar to mine. What I do hope is that each of us will consider what gifts and what passions we do have and use them in a way that makes this funny place called earth a little better than we found it.
Friday March 28, 2008 – KaYACKERS of the BeachTALK Project
Friday March 28, 2008 – KaYACKERS of the BeachTALK Project
(0 miles)
Friday was a day when the BeachWALK Project became the BeachTALK Project. With special thanks to Jenn Farley of Underwater World our small team was scheduled to give presentations at two different schools: Guam High School and Simon Sanchez High School.
DDESS Guam High School sits on top of Nimitz Hill, in the former COMNAVMARIANAS headquarters. The total district enrollment is about 2400 students and out presentation was to about 300 students in the cafeteria. The students were very receptive as we told them about ourAtlantic Coast venture and some issues that we found common on both the Atlantic Coast in Guam. I only wish that we could spend a week with each of these classrooms to exchange ideas and to explore original, imaginative solutions to some of the problems our watersheds face today. At the end of our presentation we had our first interview with a High School film production team. I was inspired to discover the students that were performing such professional tasks were in tenth grade. What great assets they will be to the community.
After a short drive and two cans of Mr. Brown’s coffee we arrived a Simon Sanchez High School in the village of Yigo. Simon Sanchez, home of the Sharks, has incredible school spirit. This school is deeply involved in recycling (I-recycle), outrigger canoe racing and beach clean-ups. The nature of some of the questions following our presentation demonstrated that these student truly understood what needs to be done to protect Guam. Many of these students, coming from families with generations on Guam, offered perspectives to environmental stewardship that promoted a fine balance between sensitivity to cultural traditions and sophisticated sustainable practices.
Following our presentations and feeling re-energized, we visited some of our sponsors, including Katie Black from Continental Airlines, Kathy of Avis Rental Car and Government of Guam Credit Union to share with them our inspiration from the youth of Guam. These companies, like many other in Guam have been there to support youth programs. It is our hope that they will set the example for all companies to give back to the communities that they serve.
(0 miles)
Friday was a day when the BeachWALK Project became the BeachTALK Project. With special thanks to Jenn Farley of Underwater World our small team was scheduled to give presentations at two different schools: Guam High School and Simon Sanchez High School.
DDESS Guam High School sits on top of Nimitz Hill, in the former COMNAVMARIANAS headquarters. The total district enrollment is about 2400 students and out presentation was to about 300 students in the cafeteria. The students were very receptive as we told them about ourAtlantic Coast venture and some issues that we found common on both the Atlantic Coast in Guam. I only wish that we could spend a week with each of these classrooms to exchange ideas and to explore original, imaginative solutions to some of the problems our watersheds face today. At the end of our presentation we had our first interview with a High School film production team. I was inspired to discover the students that were performing such professional tasks were in tenth grade. What great assets they will be to the community.
After a short drive and two cans of Mr. Brown’s coffee we arrived a Simon Sanchez High School in the village of Yigo. Simon Sanchez, home of the Sharks, has incredible school spirit. This school is deeply involved in recycling (I-recycle), outrigger canoe racing and beach clean-ups. The nature of some of the questions following our presentation demonstrated that these student truly understood what needs to be done to protect Guam. Many of these students, coming from families with generations on Guam, offered perspectives to environmental stewardship that promoted a fine balance between sensitivity to cultural traditions and sophisticated sustainable practices.
Following our presentations and feeling re-energized, we visited some of our sponsors, including Katie Black from Continental Airlines, Kathy of Avis Rental Car and Government of Guam Credit Union to share with them our inspiration from the youth of Guam. These companies, like many other in Guam have been there to support youth programs. It is our hope that they will set the example for all companies to give back to the communities that they serve.
Thursday March 27, 2008 – Buni Search
Thursday March 27, 2008 – Buni Search
Various Dededo Farms (0 miles)
Feeling rather stiff and old, we opted to avoid paddling today. Besides, today was family day. Early in the morning we called Evelyn’s mother, the lovely Rosalina Tenorio Prog.
“Na, lets go find some Buni’is” said Evelyn on the phone to her mother.
Within minutes we were in the van, rolling toward Dededo to pick up Evelyn’s mom. Forty minutes and more than a dozen wrong turns later we arrived at an old friend’s farm in the hills of Dededo. A greeting party of several dogs, a few chickens, a mother pig and her piglets escorted us to the front door of the house, where we met with Evelyn’s friend Freddy Gangie and his mother Maria.
In an incredibly generous gesture Freddy handed Evelyn a bag full of the small, toxic and just downright angry Buni peppers.
“These…” said Evelyn, handing me the bag, “should be handled like a live explosives. Rub your eyes after touching these and they will melt. Eat them raw and you will DIE.”
I lifted a pepper out of the bag, faking to eat it.
“Go ahead. Eat it. Go ahead.” said Evelyn. “You have LIFE insurance. I’ll be okay.”
“Hmmm?” thought I. “Perhaps I should be a bit more careful.”
After rinsing my hands with fresh water in the van, I joined Freddy and Evelyn for a tour of the property. Scattered in small plots along the land we harvested delicious fruits from coconut, banana, papaya, and mandarin trees. We dug a small radish and visited robust pigs and chickens.
In serene irony this garden of eden emerged from fields littered with abandoned cars. The cinder block and reebar ruins of half finished pig pens quietly returned to the shadows of jungle overgrowth. I asked Freddy about the contrast of neatly planted trees, the unfinished buildings and the random debris on the property.
“Typhoons man.” he answered.
The destructive force of Typhoons definitely affect the psyche of the island locals. Each year typhoons threaten to wipe the slate clean by demolishing houses, submerging streets, and pulling the roots of thousands of trees and plants. Every year mother nature’s extreme form of spring cleaning threatens the locals to start over. Even developers in tourism, like Stever Kasperbaurer of Alupang Beach Club have had years of work and financial investment washed away by Typhoons.
“You have to plant local plants.” said Freddy with regards to agriculture. “They once had a coffee plantation here but it didn’t work. They grew real well, but the typhoons took the plants out.” Freddy, like many other farmers on the island have accidentally discovered the importance of permaculture, using native plants in sustainable agriculture and landscaping.
Other issues such as development of sustainable buildings and the disposal of consumer goods continue to be a challenge in Guam. The disposal of cars is not unique to Freddy’s property, but is an issue that is throughout the island. The unfinished construction of pig pens is small in scale to some hotel buildings that remain vacant and unrepaired from past typhoons.
Ultimately success on Guam is achieved through sustainable development and agriculture. Using native plants for food sources and to form a landscaping shield that protects building projects from the affects of erosion and high winds.
The small island of Guam is unique in its beauty. It is also unique in the strength and tenacity is must sustain when faced with the fury of the ocean.
Various Dededo Farms (0 miles)
Feeling rather stiff and old, we opted to avoid paddling today. Besides, today was family day. Early in the morning we called Evelyn’s mother, the lovely Rosalina Tenorio Prog.
“Na, lets go find some Buni’is” said Evelyn on the phone to her mother.
Within minutes we were in the van, rolling toward Dededo to pick up Evelyn’s mom. Forty minutes and more than a dozen wrong turns later we arrived at an old friend’s farm in the hills of Dededo. A greeting party of several dogs, a few chickens, a mother pig and her piglets escorted us to the front door of the house, where we met with Evelyn’s friend Freddy Gangie and his mother Maria.
In an incredibly generous gesture Freddy handed Evelyn a bag full of the small, toxic and just downright angry Buni peppers.
“These…” said Evelyn, handing me the bag, “should be handled like a live explosives. Rub your eyes after touching these and they will melt. Eat them raw and you will DIE.”
I lifted a pepper out of the bag, faking to eat it.
“Go ahead. Eat it. Go ahead.” said Evelyn. “You have LIFE insurance. I’ll be okay.”
“Hmmm?” thought I. “Perhaps I should be a bit more careful.”
After rinsing my hands with fresh water in the van, I joined Freddy and Evelyn for a tour of the property. Scattered in small plots along the land we harvested delicious fruits from coconut, banana, papaya, and mandarin trees. We dug a small radish and visited robust pigs and chickens.
In serene irony this garden of eden emerged from fields littered with abandoned cars. The cinder block and reebar ruins of half finished pig pens quietly returned to the shadows of jungle overgrowth. I asked Freddy about the contrast of neatly planted trees, the unfinished buildings and the random debris on the property.
“Typhoons man.” he answered.
The destructive force of Typhoons definitely affect the psyche of the island locals. Each year typhoons threaten to wipe the slate clean by demolishing houses, submerging streets, and pulling the roots of thousands of trees and plants. Every year mother nature’s extreme form of spring cleaning threatens the locals to start over. Even developers in tourism, like Stever Kasperbaurer of Alupang Beach Club have had years of work and financial investment washed away by Typhoons.
“You have to plant local plants.” said Freddy with regards to agriculture. “They once had a coffee plantation here but it didn’t work. They grew real well, but the typhoons took the plants out.” Freddy, like many other farmers on the island have accidentally discovered the importance of permaculture, using native plants in sustainable agriculture and landscaping.
Other issues such as development of sustainable buildings and the disposal of consumer goods continue to be a challenge in Guam. The disposal of cars is not unique to Freddy’s property, but is an issue that is throughout the island. The unfinished construction of pig pens is small in scale to some hotel buildings that remain vacant and unrepaired from past typhoons.
Ultimately success on Guam is achieved through sustainable development and agriculture. Using native plants for food sources and to form a landscaping shield that protects building projects from the affects of erosion and high winds.
The small island of Guam is unique in its beauty. It is also unique in the strength and tenacity is must sustain when faced with the fury of the ocean.
Wednesday March 26, 2008 – Kayaking Lobsters
Wednesday March 26, 2008 – Kayaking Lobsters
Tumon Bay to Agat (20 miles)
“Amazing what I’ll do just for a hotel room!” said Beachwalk team member Moses Winston who had joined the Beachwalk Project for our Guam venture.
Our friends, Moses and Martha Winston from New Mexico had agreed nearly six months ago to assist the Beachwalk team with logistics for the Guam venture. Martha Winston, like Evelyn, grew up in Guam but now lives with her family far away in New Mexico. While Martha helped Evelyn with final planning for the project, Moses agreed to accompany me on some legs of the kayaking around Guam.
As it turns out Moses like Stein and I during the Atlantic Coast venture had had quite a bit of experience with the ocean but had very little previous experience with kayaking. As we pushed off from Tumon bay at 7 am, Moses spent the first ten minutes ‘familiarizing’ himself with this new watercraft. (‘Familiarizing’ being a fancy term for accidentally capsizing the craft and then awkwardly clammering back on board).
Per Rick Appleton’s advice we located the marked natural ‘cut’ in the reef and pushed out through the moderate surf. Moses paddled like a champ. Champ being a loose term.
Within the hour as the sun lifted into the sky a favorable tail wind picked up and pushed us towards our destination of Apra Harbor and eventual Agat Marina.
The boats, supplied by Steve Kasperbauer from Alupang Beach Club proved to be both comfortable and fast. Despite using sit-inside kayaks from Old Town during our Atlantic Coast venture last year, we chose to experiment with sit-on-top kayaks for the warm waters of Guam. Alupang Beach Club, the principal retailer of Ocean Kayaks in Micronesia worked with our team to supply two sit-on-top kayaks, paddles and PFD’s for our Guam venture.
“These boats are affordable, easy to paddle and so versatile that the whole family can share the same boat.” said Steve of Alupang Beach Club, who is currently exploring the possibility of incorporating kayaking into school intramural programs in Guam. Steve hopes that the kayaks, which are made largely from recycled plastic could also eventually serve as a principal vehicle for many waterway based societies in Micronesia. “The sit-on-top kayaks offer a huge work surface for fishing, transporting supplies, or sharing the ride with the whole family.”
Moses proved to be a fast learner and soon was paddling at a surprising pace. With the added help of flying a Kayak kite, Moses and I manage to reach the Glass Break of Apra Harbor at about 11 am.
Of course travel on the ocean is rarely predictable and just when you think you have it figured out, you’re reminded that best laid plans can quickly change on the deep blue sea.
Foolishly feeling optimistic about our hero rate of travel I called Evelyn on the phone.
“Hi Evelyn.” I greeted her with confident enthusiasm. “Listen, we’re cranking along here. I expect we’ll be in Agat Marina in less than two hours.”
Minutes after hanging up with Evelyn we rounded the corner of Apra Harbour. Pa-wow! We were blasted with a sustained, 10-15 knot headwind. I recalled some simple kayak arithmetic: Tailwind=good, Headwind=bad. Suddenly our comfortable, Cadillac pace of 4 knots was slowed to a rather painful, no break pace of 2 knots per hour. That’s about as fast as a one legged frog dragging a five pound coconut.
Hiding in what wind shadow we could find, Moses and I paddled up close to the base of the 200 foot cliffs of Orote Peninsula, passing over the famous Guam diving spots of The Wall, Blue Hole and Sharks Pit. Considering the water just a deer’s leep from the shoreline is over six hundred feet deep, this would be a bad place to drop your wrist watch.
Passing under the sound of gunfire from the Naval Reserve we continued our struggle to Agat Marina.
I flinched at each volley of gunfire.
“Don’t worry bout the sound Bob.” Shouted Moses over the din. “It’s the pluck plucks in the water that you want to be concerned about!”
A few well earned miles later, our desicated hides drifted in to Agat Marina. Big celebrations ensued with our arrival as Evelyn and Martha presented us with fresh mangos, bananas, and eebac fruit that a local Chamorro had allowed them to pick from trees in his front yard.
Moses stumbled stiffly from the kayak, staggered to his wife, devoured the fruit, swallowed a few tablets of Alleve and discussed the need for a future back rub. I myself rolled awkwardly from my own boat and staggered toward my wife. A hug from Evelyn gave me the rather burning revelation that my sunscreen application had been somewhat inadequate earlier that day. I had become the proverbial red lobster. A victim of equatorial sun exposure ignorance. Ouch.
Several pints of Aloe later I found myself with Evelyn, Moses, and Martha in Chamorro Village devouring beef kelaguin, and drinking melon juice. Locals paused to stare at my red, blistering legs and forearms. Japanese tourists paused to take pictures but I requested they not use the flash. Me, I just burned, ached and smiled. Twenty miles for Beachwalk, a belly full of great Chamorro food, awesome Chamorro music, and just a small cup of Tuba by my side.
Tumon Bay to Agat (20 miles)
“Amazing what I’ll do just for a hotel room!” said Beachwalk team member Moses Winston who had joined the Beachwalk Project for our Guam venture.
Our friends, Moses and Martha Winston from New Mexico had agreed nearly six months ago to assist the Beachwalk team with logistics for the Guam venture. Martha Winston, like Evelyn, grew up in Guam but now lives with her family far away in New Mexico. While Martha helped Evelyn with final planning for the project, Moses agreed to accompany me on some legs of the kayaking around Guam.
As it turns out Moses like Stein and I during the Atlantic Coast venture had had quite a bit of experience with the ocean but had very little previous experience with kayaking. As we pushed off from Tumon bay at 7 am, Moses spent the first ten minutes ‘familiarizing’ himself with this new watercraft. (‘Familiarizing’ being a fancy term for accidentally capsizing the craft and then awkwardly clammering back on board).
Per Rick Appleton’s advice we located the marked natural ‘cut’ in the reef and pushed out through the moderate surf. Moses paddled like a champ. Champ being a loose term.
Within the hour as the sun lifted into the sky a favorable tail wind picked up and pushed us towards our destination of Apra Harbor and eventual Agat Marina.
The boats, supplied by Steve Kasperbauer from Alupang Beach Club proved to be both comfortable and fast. Despite using sit-inside kayaks from Old Town during our Atlantic Coast venture last year, we chose to experiment with sit-on-top kayaks for the warm waters of Guam. Alupang Beach Club, the principal retailer of Ocean Kayaks in Micronesia worked with our team to supply two sit-on-top kayaks, paddles and PFD’s for our Guam venture.
“These boats are affordable, easy to paddle and so versatile that the whole family can share the same boat.” said Steve of Alupang Beach Club, who is currently exploring the possibility of incorporating kayaking into school intramural programs in Guam. Steve hopes that the kayaks, which are made largely from recycled plastic could also eventually serve as a principal vehicle for many waterway based societies in Micronesia. “The sit-on-top kayaks offer a huge work surface for fishing, transporting supplies, or sharing the ride with the whole family.”
Moses proved to be a fast learner and soon was paddling at a surprising pace. With the added help of flying a Kayak kite, Moses and I manage to reach the Glass Break of Apra Harbor at about 11 am.
Of course travel on the ocean is rarely predictable and just when you think you have it figured out, you’re reminded that best laid plans can quickly change on the deep blue sea.
Foolishly feeling optimistic about our hero rate of travel I called Evelyn on the phone.
“Hi Evelyn.” I greeted her with confident enthusiasm. “Listen, we’re cranking along here. I expect we’ll be in Agat Marina in less than two hours.”
Minutes after hanging up with Evelyn we rounded the corner of Apra Harbour. Pa-wow! We were blasted with a sustained, 10-15 knot headwind. I recalled some simple kayak arithmetic: Tailwind=good, Headwind=bad. Suddenly our comfortable, Cadillac pace of 4 knots was slowed to a rather painful, no break pace of 2 knots per hour. That’s about as fast as a one legged frog dragging a five pound coconut.
Hiding in what wind shadow we could find, Moses and I paddled up close to the base of the 200 foot cliffs of Orote Peninsula, passing over the famous Guam diving spots of The Wall, Blue Hole and Sharks Pit. Considering the water just a deer’s leep from the shoreline is over six hundred feet deep, this would be a bad place to drop your wrist watch.
Passing under the sound of gunfire from the Naval Reserve we continued our struggle to Agat Marina.
I flinched at each volley of gunfire.
“Don’t worry bout the sound Bob.” Shouted Moses over the din. “It’s the pluck plucks in the water that you want to be concerned about!”
A few well earned miles later, our desicated hides drifted in to Agat Marina. Big celebrations ensued with our arrival as Evelyn and Martha presented us with fresh mangos, bananas, and eebac fruit that a local Chamorro had allowed them to pick from trees in his front yard.
Moses stumbled stiffly from the kayak, staggered to his wife, devoured the fruit, swallowed a few tablets of Alleve and discussed the need for a future back rub. I myself rolled awkwardly from my own boat and staggered toward my wife. A hug from Evelyn gave me the rather burning revelation that my sunscreen application had been somewhat inadequate earlier that day. I had become the proverbial red lobster. A victim of equatorial sun exposure ignorance. Ouch.
Several pints of Aloe later I found myself with Evelyn, Moses, and Martha in Chamorro Village devouring beef kelaguin, and drinking melon juice. Locals paused to stare at my red, blistering legs and forearms. Japanese tourists paused to take pictures but I requested they not use the flash. Me, I just burned, ached and smiled. Twenty miles for Beachwalk, a belly full of great Chamorro food, awesome Chamorro music, and just a small cup of Tuba by my side.
Tuesday March 25, 2008 – Trash, Springs and other things
Tuesday March 25, 2008 – Trash, Springs and other things
Today, was still zero miles travelled but great progress was made. After an early morning swim in the bay I headed over to Underwater World to meet with a group of individuals from several organizations interested in starting a Waterkeeper Program in Guam.
After my twenty minute presentation about how a Waterkeeper program could be helpful here in Guam we moved into an open discussion which quickly revealed to me that perhaps my twenty minutes introduction was unneeded.
What soon became evident to me is that the watershed problems in Guam may have their own unique details but they do not stand unique in their stories. Many of the situations that Guam is facing today have been overcome by other Waterkeeper programs throughout the US and internationally.
Using these past situations as case studies for situations unique to Guam will empower concerned citizens with the information they need to win and resolve many of the issues with Guam’s watersheds.
I invite anyone concerned with the Watersheds in Guam to contact the education program at Underwater World or contact Waterkeeper Alliance (www.waterkeeper.org) directly to learn about the efforts being made in Guam to establish a Waterkeeper Office.
In the afternoon, the Beachwalk team visited nearby (well…everything is nearby in Guam) Asan and Agana Springs to learn more about problems they face in preserving these unique water resources and what is being done currently to revitalize them.
Not being an incredible biologist or scientist myself there was one problem common between both of these locations that I thought could be very quickly resolved. Trash! Trash is the first indicator of a community’s interest in pride and ownership in the quality of the environment where they work and play. Old cars, food wrappers, beverage cans and oil cans were present at both sites, and Asan springs in particular. It would be great to see some signs put up at Asan springs to suggest no dumping and no littering.
The trash we saw was not specific to any age group or culture. From Spam cans to old cars, it was everybody’s trash. It would be great to see everyone who lives in or visits Guam to take ownership in this beautiful island and work together to preserve it and to educate the next generation on what they can do to make it cleaner.
That evening on Peggy Denney’s radio program, “Where We Live.” we had an opportunity to thank the programs that are making a difference in Guam, including the student based, I-Recycle program which is gathering plastic and aluminum cans in Guam to raise money for Guam based schools. When compared to bottle bills (bottle deposit) these programs have proven to have much greater results and positive effects for communities nationwide. http://www.guampdn.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080408/OPINION02/804080313
Today, was still zero miles travelled but great progress was made. After an early morning swim in the bay I headed over to Underwater World to meet with a group of individuals from several organizations interested in starting a Waterkeeper Program in Guam.
After my twenty minute presentation about how a Waterkeeper program could be helpful here in Guam we moved into an open discussion which quickly revealed to me that perhaps my twenty minutes introduction was unneeded.
What soon became evident to me is that the watershed problems in Guam may have their own unique details but they do not stand unique in their stories. Many of the situations that Guam is facing today have been overcome by other Waterkeeper programs throughout the US and internationally.
Using these past situations as case studies for situations unique to Guam will empower concerned citizens with the information they need to win and resolve many of the issues with Guam’s watersheds.
I invite anyone concerned with the Watersheds in Guam to contact the education program at Underwater World or contact Waterkeeper Alliance (www.waterkeeper.org) directly to learn about the efforts being made in Guam to establish a Waterkeeper Office.
In the afternoon, the Beachwalk team visited nearby (well…everything is nearby in Guam) Asan and Agana Springs to learn more about problems they face in preserving these unique water resources and what is being done currently to revitalize them.
Not being an incredible biologist or scientist myself there was one problem common between both of these locations that I thought could be very quickly resolved. Trash! Trash is the first indicator of a community’s interest in pride and ownership in the quality of the environment where they work and play. Old cars, food wrappers, beverage cans and oil cans were present at both sites, and Asan springs in particular. It would be great to see some signs put up at Asan springs to suggest no dumping and no littering.
The trash we saw was not specific to any age group or culture. From Spam cans to old cars, it was everybody’s trash. It would be great to see everyone who lives in or visits Guam to take ownership in this beautiful island and work together to preserve it and to educate the next generation on what they can do to make it cleaner.
That evening on Peggy Denney’s radio program, “Where We Live.” we had an opportunity to thank the programs that are making a difference in Guam, including the student based, I-Recycle program which is gathering plastic and aluminum cans in Guam to raise money for Guam based schools. When compared to bottle bills (bottle deposit) these programs have proven to have much greater results and positive effects for communities nationwide. http://www.guampdn.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080408/OPINION02/804080313
Monday March 24, 2008 – Errands, Hermits, Fruit bats and Kayaks
Monday March 24, 2008 – Errands, Hermits, Fruit bats and Kayaks
(0 miles)
Some days are just destined to be errand days. After an early morning swim in Tumon Bay I regrouped with our team, hopped in the van and headed out to to meet with Steve Kasperbauer from Alupang Beach Club (ABC). We arrived to find the place ‘jam-pak’ with tourists wanting to get out on the water.
I quickly lost focus myself and started inquiring about other activities Alupang offers on the water. I filled my hands with pamphlets on Dolphin watching, Parasailing, and Underwater Eco-tours.
“Focus Bob.” said Evelyn. “Focus.”
“Right.” I said. “Back to work.”
Spotting a confused twenty something tourist with two cameras, flip-up sunglasses, oversized surf shorts, and white gobs of sunblock still oozing from the lobes of his ears; I walked up, smiled, handed him the pile of brochures and made towards the door.
“One day only.” I said over my shoulder. “Special price.”
The tourist held the brochures up to the light and examined them. Were they coupons? Did he miss a deal?
Across the parking lot I found the main offices for ABC and stepped in. I was greeted by comfortable air conditioning, a young salesman and another middle aged man from Pohnpei Islands who was there to buy some kayaks.
“Kayaks are an ideal resource for these islands.” Steve told me later. “I’d love to see schools use these crafts in intramural sports. It is an affordable, easy to learn craft that can be used in so many activities including scuba diving, fishing, racing, swimming or even commuting to work and grocery shopping in some of the island communities.”
Needless to say, Steve is excited about working with any group that is interested in using these kayaks for recreation or tranportation. He proved to be very supportive of the Beachwalk Project. Minutes after my arrival Steve popped in greeted me and the man from Pohnpei.
Asking the other man to wait a minute, he led me to a room filled with different kayaks, and kayaking accessories, handed me a brochure and said, “Pick out what you need.” Can you say candy store?
Hours later I had made my decision. No, really…it was hours later. I’m a slow thinker. Evelyn and the rest of the team were able to go have breakfast, rent diving gear and do some grocery shopping in the time it took me to pick out gear.
Steve was very patient and made arrangements with his crew to prepare the equipment for me to pick up later that evening.
That afternoon Evelyn went with her friend Martha to visit family while Beachwalk team member Moses and I drove down to the areas of Tarague and Ritidian Beach. These beaches proved to be the magical beaches that I had envisioned from Evelyn’s many stories of her island home. White beaches composed of washed up shells and coral, lined by massive cliffs, lush jungle and flanked by the hissing, rolling waves just beyond the shore line. Every local needs to see these beaches. These are the types of beaches that inspire legends. I could only imagine what they look like when the seas are stormy and a steady wind brings massive ocean swells crashing in on their narrow reefs.
At Ritidian I squatted down to take a photo of the horizon. Despite the seclusion of the beach;I had the uncanny feeling that I was being watched. After looking over my shoulders and seeing no-one; I looked down and was greeted by the probing eyes of a single hermit crab. As I continued to shoot my photo I realzed that he was not alone as nearly fifteen other crabs emerged from their shells and began migrating down the beach like a convoy of RV’ers. I wonder if they ever have races? Perhaps every so often they gather in a circle and have a bonfire. Or perhaps they invite each other over for a new shell warming party and a game of cards.
At the end of the day we visited Chris Bandy at the Guam National Wildlife Refuge and discussed another shelled creature which visits Guam’s shores from time to time, the sea turtle. We also discussed the efforts being made to protect habitat for the threatened and endangered populations of Marianas Fruit Bat and Marianas Crow.
Finally home at night I tucked in the new kayaks from ABC, sipped a small glass of the locally made coconut wine called ‘Tuba’ and quickly fell into dreams of dancing coconut crabs and singing sea-cucumbers. Ahhh Guam.
(0 miles)
Some days are just destined to be errand days. After an early morning swim in Tumon Bay I regrouped with our team, hopped in the van and headed out to to meet with Steve Kasperbauer from Alupang Beach Club (ABC). We arrived to find the place ‘jam-pak’ with tourists wanting to get out on the water.
I quickly lost focus myself and started inquiring about other activities Alupang offers on the water. I filled my hands with pamphlets on Dolphin watching, Parasailing, and Underwater Eco-tours.
“Focus Bob.” said Evelyn. “Focus.”
“Right.” I said. “Back to work.”
Spotting a confused twenty something tourist with two cameras, flip-up sunglasses, oversized surf shorts, and white gobs of sunblock still oozing from the lobes of his ears; I walked up, smiled, handed him the pile of brochures and made towards the door.
“One day only.” I said over my shoulder. “Special price.”
The tourist held the brochures up to the light and examined them. Were they coupons? Did he miss a deal?
Across the parking lot I found the main offices for ABC and stepped in. I was greeted by comfortable air conditioning, a young salesman and another middle aged man from Pohnpei Islands who was there to buy some kayaks.
“Kayaks are an ideal resource for these islands.” Steve told me later. “I’d love to see schools use these crafts in intramural sports. It is an affordable, easy to learn craft that can be used in so many activities including scuba diving, fishing, racing, swimming or even commuting to work and grocery shopping in some of the island communities.”
Needless to say, Steve is excited about working with any group that is interested in using these kayaks for recreation or tranportation. He proved to be very supportive of the Beachwalk Project. Minutes after my arrival Steve popped in greeted me and the man from Pohnpei.
Asking the other man to wait a minute, he led me to a room filled with different kayaks, and kayaking accessories, handed me a brochure and said, “Pick out what you need.” Can you say candy store?
Hours later I had made my decision. No, really…it was hours later. I’m a slow thinker. Evelyn and the rest of the team were able to go have breakfast, rent diving gear and do some grocery shopping in the time it took me to pick out gear.
Steve was very patient and made arrangements with his crew to prepare the equipment for me to pick up later that evening.
That afternoon Evelyn went with her friend Martha to visit family while Beachwalk team member Moses and I drove down to the areas of Tarague and Ritidian Beach. These beaches proved to be the magical beaches that I had envisioned from Evelyn’s many stories of her island home. White beaches composed of washed up shells and coral, lined by massive cliffs, lush jungle and flanked by the hissing, rolling waves just beyond the shore line. Every local needs to see these beaches. These are the types of beaches that inspire legends. I could only imagine what they look like when the seas are stormy and a steady wind brings massive ocean swells crashing in on their narrow reefs.
At Ritidian I squatted down to take a photo of the horizon. Despite the seclusion of the beach;I had the uncanny feeling that I was being watched. After looking over my shoulders and seeing no-one; I looked down and was greeted by the probing eyes of a single hermit crab. As I continued to shoot my photo I realzed that he was not alone as nearly fifteen other crabs emerged from their shells and began migrating down the beach like a convoy of RV’ers. I wonder if they ever have races? Perhaps every so often they gather in a circle and have a bonfire. Or perhaps they invite each other over for a new shell warming party and a game of cards.
At the end of the day we visited Chris Bandy at the Guam National Wildlife Refuge and discussed another shelled creature which visits Guam’s shores from time to time, the sea turtle. We also discussed the efforts being made to protect habitat for the threatened and endangered populations of Marianas Fruit Bat and Marianas Crow.
Finally home at night I tucked in the new kayaks from ABC, sipped a small glass of the locally made coconut wine called ‘Tuba’ and quickly fell into dreams of dancing coconut crabs and singing sea-cucumbers. Ahhh Guam.
Sunday March 23, 2008 – Egg Hunts from chicken to basket
Sunday March 23, 2008 – Egg Hunts from chicken to basket
(0 miles)
Sunday was an Easter Celebration-Chamorro Style. Moses and Martha Winston, also part of the Beachwalk Project invited us to Martha’s Family’s Easter Celebration near Dededo. Our team arrived uncharacteristically early at 2 in the afternoon to find that the party was not to happen until 4…awkward. Well, awkward anywhere else but Guam. The extra two hours were filled with conversation, sharing old stories and of course sampling some of the food destined to be part of the party. This included Octopus Kelaguin, Chicken Stefau, and one cannot forget the green papaya pickled in tuba (coconut vinegar-not the wine…that’s later).
Does it say something about Chamorro culture that the pickled papaya was stored in a container labeled ‘chocolate chip cookies’ and that the kids devoured the pickled treat like candy?
At about 4:30 cars began arriving and the small gathering soon grew to a fiesta of nearly fifty family members. I can’t begin to list the Chamorro dishes that arrived, but our team did our part to devour the corn chowder.
As the food settled, a traditional Easter Egg hunt ensued. Children sporting tiny Easter baskets scurried under cars, in bushes, up trees, and into eachother in search of hidden eggs. No chocolate sweets, no fancy prizes, no marshamallow, sticky, gewy or over marketed treats. Just simple, hard boiled eggs, laid by the many hens on the property and colored in crayon by the children themselves earlier that day.
There is something to be said about activities that we can follow from beginning to end. From the laying of the egg to the eventual hunt. This continuity creates a connection and greater appreciation for everything. Imagine if all of us personally caught our dinner from the sea, picked our vegetables from our garden, made our own vinegar from the coconuts or apples that grew on the property. Industrial farming puts food on our shelves but our connection, understanding and appreciation for the creation of that food is lost, disconnected and in many cases unhealthy.
A small island in the middle of the Pacific certainly has to import many items to satisfy modern demands for variety in consumer goods and foods. It is the things grown at the home, however, that prove to be the most genuine, most healthy and most Chamorro.
(0 miles)
Sunday was an Easter Celebration-Chamorro Style. Moses and Martha Winston, also part of the Beachwalk Project invited us to Martha’s Family’s Easter Celebration near Dededo. Our team arrived uncharacteristically early at 2 in the afternoon to find that the party was not to happen until 4…awkward. Well, awkward anywhere else but Guam. The extra two hours were filled with conversation, sharing old stories and of course sampling some of the food destined to be part of the party. This included Octopus Kelaguin, Chicken Stefau, and one cannot forget the green papaya pickled in tuba (coconut vinegar-not the wine…that’s later).
Does it say something about Chamorro culture that the pickled papaya was stored in a container labeled ‘chocolate chip cookies’ and that the kids devoured the pickled treat like candy?
At about 4:30 cars began arriving and the small gathering soon grew to a fiesta of nearly fifty family members. I can’t begin to list the Chamorro dishes that arrived, but our team did our part to devour the corn chowder.
As the food settled, a traditional Easter Egg hunt ensued. Children sporting tiny Easter baskets scurried under cars, in bushes, up trees, and into eachother in search of hidden eggs. No chocolate sweets, no fancy prizes, no marshamallow, sticky, gewy or over marketed treats. Just simple, hard boiled eggs, laid by the many hens on the property and colored in crayon by the children themselves earlier that day.
There is something to be said about activities that we can follow from beginning to end. From the laying of the egg to the eventual hunt. This continuity creates a connection and greater appreciation for everything. Imagine if all of us personally caught our dinner from the sea, picked our vegetables from our garden, made our own vinegar from the coconuts or apples that grew on the property. Industrial farming puts food on our shelves but our connection, understanding and appreciation for the creation of that food is lost, disconnected and in many cases unhealthy.
A small island in the middle of the Pacific certainly has to import many items to satisfy modern demands for variety in consumer goods and foods. It is the things grown at the home, however, that prove to be the most genuine, most healthy and most Chamorro.
Saturday March 22, 2008 – Paddle like the locals do…well, sort of.
Saturday March 22, 2008 – Paddle like the locals do…well, sort of.
Inarajan to Agat (20 miles)
When in Guam paddle like Guam. On Saturday we did our first miles for the circumnavigation of this incredible island.
Instead of our usual mode of travel I chose to paddle a 2 person outrigger canoe (OC2) and participate in Guam Kayak and Canoe Federation’s annual Eastside Relay which covers about 20 miles of Southeastern coastline starting from Inarajan Bay and ending up in Agat Bay.
Rick Appleton of the Federation was kind enough to let me crew on his OC2 with several women paddlers. I thought I had asked him to pass on the word requesting my crew members be easy on me. If this was ‘easy’ then I really need to get off the couch more often!
My first partner was a woman named Toni who proved to have a heart of a lion and the strength of a bear. We pushed out into the surf and followed some troughs for the 4 mile sprint. I enjoyed hyperventilating.
As we pulled into the first check point, I had just enough time to take a sip of water and dip my shirt into the water before Toni was replaced with Lalani Appleton, a petite Filipina 'drill sergeant'. The boat glided gracefully across the water as we surfed a modest swell through varying depths of coral shallows. I enjoyed the sting of salt in my eyes and paddling blindly while this quietly powerful woman kept us on course for the next 7 mile sprint. At some point the lure of the beautiful reef passing below us must have overwhelmed me and like an oafish, knuckle dragging gorilla I leaned a bit too far and hulied (capsized) us. Before the water even had time to penetrate my shirt we were back on board paddling.
“So that’s a hulie?” I asked.
Lalani politely chuckled then a short while later pointed out a rather large sting-ray gliding under the boat.
“Isn’t that beautiful?” she said. “You don’t want to land on one of them.”
I suspect she was ever so slightly encouraging me not to hulie again.
Pretending to be reluctant to do so I surrenderd my seat to Jenn, a 20 something year old rugby player from the local aquarium for the next 4 mile leg. Grabbing my small thermous of protein supplemented coffee I staggered onto the escort boat. "Whew"
Fully hydrated, caffienated, and filled with overdose levels of ibuprofen I hopped off the escort boat at the next checkpoint and waited for the OC2 to pull in. Another paddler stood on the beach waiting. Next to her was a small duffel bag filled with waterbottles, power gu and a large brown pill bottle that caught my eye.
"Whats in the bottle?" I asked
"Glucosomene…for the joints." she answered
She lifted the bottle out of the bag, unscrewed the cap and offered it to me.
"How many do you usually take?" I asked
"Two to four" she answered.
I took five.
My OC2 arrived just as the last remnants of the chalky glucosomene ball disolved in the back of my throat. The last leg, a nine mile sprint was going to be more relaxing, I thought, expecting that Jenn, a fairly new paddler would be accompanying me. Alas to my surprise Jenn debarked and in her place was Lalani again. Lifting her sunglasses for a moment I could see fire in her eyes as another OC2 with two young local bucks pulled in, grabbed some water and headed back out.
"Ready?" she said and lowered her glasses.
"Oh Cr**." was the reponse in my shoulders.
Inevitably the final leg was hot, and tiring but somewhere along the way I finally felt a sort of groove kick in. Not a fast or very well coordinated groove, mind you, but definately a groove. And a good enough of a groove to keep those local bucks at bay.
As we neared Agat bay for our final push of ‘speed’ a small pod of Dolphins glided past us, swimming effortlessly through the water without the aid of Power-gu, Gatorade, or Joint fuel. I think they were laughing. I can respect that.
Tomorrow, I am glad that it is Easter and in the name of my faith I can save face and take the day off.
Inarajan to Agat (20 miles)
When in Guam paddle like Guam. On Saturday we did our first miles for the circumnavigation of this incredible island.
Instead of our usual mode of travel I chose to paddle a 2 person outrigger canoe (OC2) and participate in Guam Kayak and Canoe Federation’s annual Eastside Relay which covers about 20 miles of Southeastern coastline starting from Inarajan Bay and ending up in Agat Bay.
Rick Appleton of the Federation was kind enough to let me crew on his OC2 with several women paddlers. I thought I had asked him to pass on the word requesting my crew members be easy on me. If this was ‘easy’ then I really need to get off the couch more often!
My first partner was a woman named Toni who proved to have a heart of a lion and the strength of a bear. We pushed out into the surf and followed some troughs for the 4 mile sprint. I enjoyed hyperventilating.
As we pulled into the first check point, I had just enough time to take a sip of water and dip my shirt into the water before Toni was replaced with Lalani Appleton, a petite Filipina 'drill sergeant'. The boat glided gracefully across the water as we surfed a modest swell through varying depths of coral shallows. I enjoyed the sting of salt in my eyes and paddling blindly while this quietly powerful woman kept us on course for the next 7 mile sprint. At some point the lure of the beautiful reef passing below us must have overwhelmed me and like an oafish, knuckle dragging gorilla I leaned a bit too far and hulied (capsized) us. Before the water even had time to penetrate my shirt we were back on board paddling.
“So that’s a hulie?” I asked.
Lalani politely chuckled then a short while later pointed out a rather large sting-ray gliding under the boat.
“Isn’t that beautiful?” she said. “You don’t want to land on one of them.”
I suspect she was ever so slightly encouraging me not to hulie again.
Pretending to be reluctant to do so I surrenderd my seat to Jenn, a 20 something year old rugby player from the local aquarium for the next 4 mile leg. Grabbing my small thermous of protein supplemented coffee I staggered onto the escort boat. "Whew"
Fully hydrated, caffienated, and filled with overdose levels of ibuprofen I hopped off the escort boat at the next checkpoint and waited for the OC2 to pull in. Another paddler stood on the beach waiting. Next to her was a small duffel bag filled with waterbottles, power gu and a large brown pill bottle that caught my eye.
"Whats in the bottle?" I asked
"Glucosomene…for the joints." she answered
She lifted the bottle out of the bag, unscrewed the cap and offered it to me.
"How many do you usually take?" I asked
"Two to four" she answered.
I took five.
My OC2 arrived just as the last remnants of the chalky glucosomene ball disolved in the back of my throat. The last leg, a nine mile sprint was going to be more relaxing, I thought, expecting that Jenn, a fairly new paddler would be accompanying me. Alas to my surprise Jenn debarked and in her place was Lalani again. Lifting her sunglasses for a moment I could see fire in her eyes as another OC2 with two young local bucks pulled in, grabbed some water and headed back out.
"Ready?" she said and lowered her glasses.
"Oh Cr**." was the reponse in my shoulders.
Inevitably the final leg was hot, and tiring but somewhere along the way I finally felt a sort of groove kick in. Not a fast or very well coordinated groove, mind you, but definately a groove. And a good enough of a groove to keep those local bucks at bay.
As we neared Agat bay for our final push of ‘speed’ a small pod of Dolphins glided past us, swimming effortlessly through the water without the aid of Power-gu, Gatorade, or Joint fuel. I think they were laughing. I can respect that.
Tomorrow, I am glad that it is Easter and in the name of my faith I can save face and take the day off.
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