Summer days, drifting away...

Tomorrow is my last day here at the ranch. I cannot believe how the time has flown. It's been a strange summer, to say the least...irritatingly unpredictable. For someone who craves routine and structure, it has certainly been trying at times. Add in the emotional roller-coaster of a hasty summer romance which has left me with more questions than answers, and it becomes more and more apparent that my departure to Alaska in two short weeks may be nothing short of theraputic. I need something I can throw myself into headlong, which will consume my mind and body thoroughly enough to cleanse any outlying "what ifs" from my system. Between a cataclysmic move and beginning my first official year as a full-time teacher, I think that pretty much covers all the bases.

As I reflect on the past two months, now that I am nearly on the eve of my departure, I am able to recognize the time I've spent here as a time of needed introspection and personal growth. Also, it has been a forced detachment from my family and familiar surroundings which, although not quite as extreme, will certainly prepare me for what is to come in the not-so-distant future.

Bittersweet as much of my personal growth and learning has been this summer, when I view it in full I am left with a feeling of accomplishment. I put myself out and took risks like I never have before. Sometimes I landed on my feet, sometimes I fell flat on the ground, and sometimes I was left unsure about what was up and what was down. But despite the outcome, through each new experience I have gained a greater sense of self and an enhanced confidence in who I am and what I am capable of doing.

I'm not quite sure what tomorrow will bring, or the day after that, or the week after that, or what my life will be like just one month from now, but I do know there is one thing I can count on: when I wake up tomorrow morning, I will still be me, and I am happy about that.

My first float down the river (or, How I almost died in 2ft. of water)

The South Fork of the Clearwater River

Looking Down River

Looking Up River

Well, I have had quite a few interesting adventures here at the Ranch this summer, and a week ago today I had yet another to add to the books. Anyone who knows me well knows that I am not exactly into water sports. I am an excellent swimmer, but my crippling fear of sharks, sea monsters, fish, and other unknown creatures of the deep keeps me from going any further than knee deep into bodies of water that are not man made and chlorinated. I've also never been a big lover of boats.

HOWEVER, as of late I have embraced the life philosophy of 'trying things', which is why last Thursday, as Chuck, Lana, and I were setting up party central down by the river for Anderson's and my friends who were coming in on Friday, I offered unhesitatingly to man (woman?) the freshly inflated boat/raft thingy down the river from the barn (where it was currently living) to our party site right above the island. You can see the head of the island in the first picture above. I thought it would be fun to have the raft down at our party site so we could drag it out into the river, anchor it or something, and then lay out in it and get some sun. Wishful thinking, perhaps, on my part.

So, after Chuck got the raft inflated, he came down to the party site to get me, stating that "the Titanic was ready to sail." I maybe should have taken that as a bad omen, but let's remember, I am trying to think positively about everything. So we drove back over to the barn in the 4-wheeler, dragged the raft down to the river, and got ready to launch. I was thinking that Chuck and I were going to navigate the river together, but he assured me that I could do it solo, no problem. Bolstered by false confidence, I boarded the craft, and after brief instruction and reassurance that I could definitely keep my shoes on, Chuck shoved me out into the river.

Per Chuck's instruction, I was to make for the left side of the river, because there were fewer rocks and the landing site was on the left side. Seemed easy enough from the safety of the shore, but the river had different ideas. And as I was launched from the right side, attempting to traverse to the opposite shore became that much more difficult. My futile attempts to 'row' resulted in little more than spinning me in pathetic circles, and I quickly succumbed to the will of the current.

I basically traveled the worst possible course down the river. If there was a rock, I hit it. If there were rapids, I was in them. As soon as I cleared the rougher patches and reached the calmer waters before the island, I started rowing for shore like my life depended on it. Which in my mind, it pretty much did. I knew what came after the island (a narrow canyon with nothing but white water), and I knew that if I didn't get the raft to shore and soon, I was screwed.

Even though I was paddling with all I had, the forward motion of the swift current swept me right past my landing site. I waved to Lana who was standing helplessly on the shore, and shouted a resigned, "Well, I guess I'm going to Stites!" (the next town down the river). Chuck had made it back to our party site, and as I began to float down the left side of the island, about 10 feet from the shore, he yelled at me to get out and try to drag the boat to shore. I had just been wading in the river hours previously, and I knew the water was only about 2 feet deep here, so it seemed like a good idea. I swung my left leg out and tried to plant it on the river bottom. My hiking boot bumped and slipped along the rocky bottom, and barely even slowed the raft's progress down the river. Seeing I had no choice, I dragged my other foot out of the raft and tried to plant both feet on the river bottom. Holding on to the raft by a rope, I began to panic because while I was now fully out of the raft, we were still traveling down river at an alarming rate. I was wet up to my waist and still could not gain purchase on the slippery, algae-coated rocks lining the river bottom.

Then, the thing I had been dreading happened. I lost my footing completely, landing on my butt and dunking me up to my chin, and the unrelenting current continued to drag the raft and me down river. I knew I ought to give up at this point - let the raft go and worry about saving myself - but I am just stubborn (or stupid?) enough to get it in my head that I HAD to save the raft. I had already lost my paddle in my struggle to keep my feet - if I lost the raft too, I would never hear the end of it.

I dug my feet in for a last ditch attempt, somehow managed to regain my footing, and using all of my strength (aided by panic adrenaline) I flopped and floundered and dragged the raft (which felt like it weighed a ton as the current pulled on it) step by slogging step into shore. I flopped onto the rocky beach with all the drama of an old-timey sailor who has not seen land for months.

My legs were shaking from the effort, I could hardly walk, I was soaking wet and more than a little embarrassed, but I was alive and the raft was ashore. Chuck even managed to recover the lost paddle.

Once I got back up to the house and the adrenaline began to abate, I discovered that I was covered in emerging bruises from ankle to knee on both legs - souvenirs of my battle with the rocky river bottom.

As far as my 'trying new things' lifestyle goes, most of the time the result is positive. However, I think my first time floating the South Fork was also my last...well, at least for now :)

Equine Acrobatics!

I WISH I had a picture to show all of you in my blog audience the amazing new experience I had today. For the first time in almost 25 years of on-and-off horseback riding, I was thrown by a horse. It was intense! We actually had three photographers on site taking pictures of us all dressed up in Western garb with the horses, and not one of them captured me flying through the air off of the back of a bucking horse. I was a little miffed!

Yesterday I had an amazing ride on Monty, a gorgeous red Missouri Foxtrotter, and everything was absolutely perfect. I had a lot of fun and was feeling very confident about being back in the saddle and was  ready to take on any horse at the Ranch. We took video of some of my ride, and I'll post the link below.

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=137238182953274&ref=mf


So today, my original plan was to ride Monty again. After our good ride the day before, there were still a few things I wanted to work on with him, like steering him more with my legs than with the reins, as he appeared to be fighting the bit slightly and I was forced to choke up on the reins and ride with my hands in sort of a strange posture. Just like in all sports, it really helps to watch video of yourself riding so you can see what you were doing right and what you might want to change. When Lana mentioned that my hands looked funny, I realized that I could probably rely less on rein steering and more on leg steering with Monty because he seemed almost more responsive to my light leg squeezes than he did when I jerked the reins. Every horse is different - you have to ride A LOT to be able to pick up on their individual subtleties. 


Anyways, I ended up not riding Monty today because as soon as he saw me come into the pasture carrying a rope, he initiated evasive maneuvers. I got sick of chasing him through ankle deep muck out in the middle of the pasture, so I decided to just choose between the other two horses in the pasture who were not purposefully avoiding me. 


Monty's pasture mates are Ferrari, a red Tennessee Walker, and Prada, a white and red Spotted Saddle Horse. I had ridden Ferrari three or four times on previous visits to the ranch, and knew her to be a gentle, easygoing mare. Prada, on the other hand, is younger and a bit small for me and I have never ridden her before, even though I know she is a good little horse. Regardless, I wanted to be in my comfort zone with the photographers there snapping pictures, so I chose Ferrari as my steed for the day.


It was a lot of fun posing for the photographers while I groomed and saddled Ferrari, and she seemed pretty patient for the majority of the session. Finally, after about 45 minutes of picture taking, I was given the go-ahead (by the photographers) to get on the horse. Let me digress for just a moment to say that for this "photo shoot" we were instructed to wear as much "Western" garb as possible. I was weighed down by jeans, boots, leather chaps (w/fringe!) belt w/large silver belt buckle, denim shirt, vintage silver and turquoise squash blossom necklace (my Omi's, now mine), bandana, and cowgirl hat. It was quite the ensemble, to say the least. 


One foot in the stirrup, I swung up onto Ferrari's back, as I have done many times before. I was barely in the saddle and my right foot wasn't even in the stirrup when a loose buckle or dangling fringe from my chaps brushed the horse's side in the wrong way, and she TOOK OFF and started HOPPING AND KICKING with me, one foot in the stirrups, trying to get purchase on my reins enough to pull her back. It didn't take long for me to figure out that I was no longer in control, and the horse was going to have me off one way or another, so I decided to make it on my terms. I swung my right leg back over the saddle, and even as the horse hopped into the air again, I pushed off with my one foot that was in a stirrup and became airborne. In that split second in which I realized I was going to have to jump or be thrown, I knew that I needed to plan my jump so I would land far enough away from the horse so there would be no risk of me being trampled, and to give me some time to get up and get away if she charged at me. The fact that she jumped at the same time I did allowed me to somehow meet my dismount objectives with a bit of added style. I really got some air! I landed on my butt, and was actually grateful (for once) for the added cushion. I dinged my knee up a little bit, but it's just a bruise. I DIDN'T land on my head, I DIDN'T require a trip to the ER, and I DID get back on the horse after we had both calmed down a bit (and I had removed the offending chaps).


All told, it was actually kind of awesome, and I am really thankful for all my years of athletics, which have trained my body and mind to react quickly (and land safely!) as the situation requires.  In other news, we have a new baby here at Southfork! Louis Vuitton was born early Thursday morning to Porsche the black mare and Armani the palomino stallion. Mom and baby are doing very well (Louis is a handful! Lots of personality!) and Dad is very proud. Louis is a Tennessee Walker.

Mom and Baby with Dad in the background

Just another day at Southfork!

New Things!

Today I did some things I have never done before! It was our first truly nice day since I have been here at the ranch, and after the day getting off to a ridiculous start (long story short: I went to throw the discus up at the local h.s. and ended up losing one disc and gaining full-body hives), things got better in the afternoon.

Lana decided I needed to learn to ride a motorcycle. I was skeptical at first because I am SO bad with all things mechanical/electronical/beyond basic stone age technology. It was a big surprise to me when I was zooming around the back yard after just a few minutes of instruction! It really made me realize how much of a tool Bella (from Twilight...ugh) is in New Moon when she bails into a rock on her first motorcycle ride. I was scared at first that I would do the same or similar, but then, as I said, Bella is a huge tool and I am relatively competent in comparison.

We took the bike down to the horse arena so I could practice shifting and get up a little more speed. It was a lot of fun! Especially once I started to get the hang of it with the shifting and accelerating and whatnot. Amazingly enough, I did not fall off once. Lana took video and pics, and of course, made me pose at the end :)

I am unnecessarily smarmy. Haha!

Something else I did today that I've never done before is hit a golf ball! Ok, I've played putt-putt before, but this was full-on golf ball hitting with a real club and everything. I had quite a few spectacular swing-and-misses, but I told myself, "Ok, I'm an athlete, I can do this!" and pretty soon I was at least making contact. I would never say I have a future in golf, recreational or otherwise, but it was fun and challenging and I can definitely say I have a much greater respect for the sport now, knowing how difficult it really is!

And, once again, Lana was on hand with her camera to capture my special golf moments :)

Yes, I am golfing in cowgirl boots. Recognize!

Finally, we had a Jurassic Park moment with the ranch's largest equine occupant during our golf cart tour of the Demme homestead land. Reign did not appreciate having us in his pasture! Check out the video linked below, particularly the second half:

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=135639876446438

Just another day at Southfork!

Moving...it's never fun

For the second night in a row I am fighting off a migraine...it has been a long and exhausting weekend of lifting, loading, prepping, packing, selling, sunning, burning, beer-ing, and not enough sleeping. MOVING! I've done it so many times in the past six or so years, you'd think I would have gone pro by now. The amount of items I have accumulated from the beginning of college until now is disgusting. Or, it WAS disgusting. I have fallen upon my apartment like a black, scourging plague, dispatching of any and all unnecessary items...and believe me, when you've spent more than an hour sorting through anything, you begin to seriously question every item's worth. At this point, I almost just want to pitch it all out and start over!

I have to give mad props to my parents who have helped me with every move, working way harder than necessary and complaining only minimally ;) My mom is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to organizing and packing. She darts around like a hummingbird on Redbull, going in about five directions at once and somehow managing to bring a sense of order to complete chaos. My dad, on the other hand, goes into his surly 'moving mode', where he is happy to haul anything in or out, but will gladly rip you a new one if you as much as look at him the wrong way. Somehow, this combination works out, though I'm not about to ask why or how.

The garage sale Friday and Saturday was ridiculous, but I managed to rid myself of quite a few superfluous items and make some sweet moolah in the process. I also achieved a stunning sunburn, as Saturday was the first sunny day we'd had in weeks and I wasn't about to waste it. As soon as the garage door went up at 8am I was out in my chair in my tank top and wayfarers. Not sure if it was worth the pain, but it was nice to feel warm again!

Today was supposed to have been my day to head out for my summer at the Ranch, but the garage sale turned out to be more of a time suck than I had anticipated so I had to delay my departure one day. After slogging through the wreckage of my apartment for a few hours, it became apparent that a one day delay was not enough. Updated ETD: Tuesday AM, God willing and the creek don't rise.

Will I ever be warm again?

image credit: Anne Taintor

This afternoon, I returned home to Vancouver from a weekend in Tacoma at the state track meet. I have been to the state track meet six times now, and all I can say is, this was BY FAR the worst one on record. Even worse than freshman year when my throwing arch-nemesis beat me by one inch and I got 5th! I had no idea a worse state track meet was even possible, but I was very wrong.

When we arrived on Thursday afternoon, things appeared relatively normal, though slightly overcast. As the afternoon wore on, the clouds rolled in and the sun became obscured, and it became necessary to don a sweatshirt or light jacket. Still, with the unpredictable weather we have been experiencing lately, I think the general feeling in the community was that the clouds would blow through and we would be back under sunny skies shortly. This was not to be born. Rain began falling as the sun set, and our team took refuge first under our orange canopy, then, as conditions worsened, in one of our large eight-passenger vans. As soon as the evening's competition ended, we rushed back to the hotel and cranked our room heaters on high, confident that Friday would dawn fresh and bright.

Ahh, the naivete! Friday was a long, wet slog through running, jumping, and throwing events, with athletes, coaches, and spectators struggling to stay dry and warm. As we affixed more tarps to our canopy and squirmed into more layers of clothing, it began to dawn on us that we had gone from being at the state track meet to being on a really crap camping trip.

If I were to make a list of my top five most hated activities, camping would likely be in the top three. I hate, hate, HATE being cold! This is troubling to me because, as I mused aloud multiple times this past weekend, I am, in fact, moving to ALASKA in 2 short months.

This is what I'm in for...do you think I can handle it?!
http://www.wunderground.com/US/AK/Stebbins.html

P.S.: Yes, I knew when I signed my contract that it is really cold in Alaska and that I am a wilderness wimp. It's no use complaining about it...I just keep telling myself, "it's ok...you're getting PAID." ;) That one warm, happy thought will get me through the coldest of cold days, I think.

Parting is such sweet sorrow...well...maybe not.

As I have begun organizing and packing all of the items I have been lugging around for the past five or six years (longer in some instances...teddy bear Sparky, I'm talking about you), I have come to realize that I have WAY too much stuff. A lot of it was piled upon me by forces that were out of my control (my mother), but then there are just some things that I have not been able to part with...up until now. It's funny how preparing for a big move to the ends of the earth can prompt one to shed some weight in the belongings department.

As I sort through my clothes, books, and movies, and catalog my furniture, decor, and kitchen gadgets into four piles (pack, chuck, store, sell), I have noticed that tossing items into the 'chuck' and 'sell' piles is an unexpectedly liberating feeling. I've never really thought of sorting as being this cathartic, but it feels good to discard some of these superficial, material, layers of my life.

I will be the first one to say that I have a pretty cute apartment. I may not have top-of-the-line stuff, but I have configured my hand-me-downs and Ross finds into an arrangement that feels homey and looks pretty nice (compared to the living spaces of many of my peers). The thing is, I would never choose most of this stuff for myself. All my furniture was either cheap or free, and it is all in decent shape, but anyone who has spent much time in my apartment knows that I have the MOST uncomfortable couch on record in this world, and perhaps even in other worlds. It is also old and heavy and honestly I can't believe I have moved with it as much as I have.

The couch in question...even Roman looks uncomfortable on it!

The point is, it's really easy to get rid of this stuff because I am now moving on to that new chapter of my life where the next time I furnish my living space, I will be able to afford the kind of furniture I actually like and want. Who cares if I get rid of the stuff now or later -- it's gotta go sometime, so it might as well be now! If anything, this move is just a great excuse to flush out the sandy eyeball of my life and move on, Visine in hand (how often do you get the chance to use THAT metaphor, I ask you?!). There is one thing, however, with which I will be sad to part...

...and that would be this little nugget, my not-so-sweet cheatie, Polly. 

She is an absolute terror, but for some reason I just can't get enough of her vicious fangs and lovely lady lumps. She's the best frenemy I've ever had, but somehow I think she would find Alaska disagreeable. Or, at the least the bears would find HER disagreeable. Either way, I am trying to find her a tranquil new home which will include an option for me to take her back if anything should prevent her new owner from caring for her at any point in the indeterminate future. Because just look at that fuzzy tummy...could YOU say goodbye to that forever? Not that I've ever been able to touch the fuzzy tummy without being seriously maimed, but sometimes that's the price you pay for love.