It's always fun to return to the town you grew up in - especially if you hail from Fulton, New York, aka "The City with a Future," population 12,000 give or take 5,000. I have lived in Southern California for almost as many years as I did in Fulton. At times I could equate visiting Central New York to travelling in a foreign country - it's like the United States only different.... But I find it interesting how easy it is to fall into the rythym of life in upstate and quickly become "Cathy," or rather an acsented trill "Caaa-thee," once again.
Years ago I proudly brought my Southern California-born, ex-boyfriend Paul home for show. The extended family gathered for dinner including my cousin and his 4-year old son. A cute kid: Friendly and personable. I bent down and teased him, "Why is there chocolate on your shirt?" He slowly lowered his gaze to the stain, paused and cooly lifted his head stating, "I had a dough-nut; I hate frickin' dough-nuts." I'll never forget the look on Paul's face and to this day - 12 years later - my friends quote it like it was a line from the movie Blazing Saddles.
I like going 'home.' I miss the familiarity of knowing a place so intimately. Reliving my personal history - good and bad. Like where I made out with Teddie Webster for the first time or smoked menthals before social studies.
This last time my sister Anna joined me for the visit 'home.' She had arranged for us to take a day trip to the hunting camp my Dad had been a member of for 50 years. It is in the northern territory of New York state in a roadless region west of the Adironacks. Once there, we rode miles of dirt road on old mountain bikes and caught up on each others lives - I hadn't seen her in over a year. I made her ride through every puddle until we were filthy from the waist down and shared the wisdom my friends had given me when descending a steep grade, "Box back, box back." After lunch we traded up to a pair of 4-wheel drive Polaris quads. I was hesitant, personally preferring self-propelled over motorized travel. I admit, it was fun and probably a sport I would have pursued had I not moved west at 22.
While we were there we rediscovered a park I had visited once when I was 12 - Green Lakes State Park. We decided to hike the trail that traced the shores of the two lakes. It was beautiful - broad paths lined with trees and lush vegetation where numerous runners took advantage of the shaded trail. As Anna and I walked ahead of my Dad and her husband I confided in her that I really could envision living on the East coast if I had daily access to a place like this. But truthfully the pull of 'home' was fleeting. I like the East Coast but I hate frickin' win-ter.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
Like Work Only Better
Just another Thursday: A 6:00 a.m. mountain bike ride, a bit of time answering e-mails, pitching stories and editing photographs, taking 10 guys from Santa Monica out and showing them how to rock climb and rappel, teaching a 6:00 p.m. yoga practice and finishing the day with a dinner and margarita meeting for July's Big Bear PaddleFest.
Yesterday illustrates exactly why I live in a small, mountain town and why I moved here in the first place. Well, at least some concept of why I moved to Big Bear. Though not my first choice, Big Bear has grown on me. I always knew a mountain town was more in step with my energy and spirit. Living in the city mid-week and escaping to Mammoth, the Sierras or hiking LA's less urban trails wasn't a horrible existence but it always left depressed on Monday's and counting the hours until the next weekend. I enjoyed my time in LA, even consider myself a successful city-dweller, but I counldn't return.
Although, I have to admit the transition to small-town living was not easy. The first two years we were here, we didn't have a clue. No friends - only acquaintances. Spent much of our time remodeling the house and continuing to drive for outdoor escapes. Didn't really engage much outside of our city circle-of-friends. I would have to say it wasn't until we started to mountain bike that we began to meet people with similar interests. Until then I wasn't too sure there were truly outdoorsy people in Big Bear. As we started to spend more time mountain biking and less time remodeling, we tapped into a vibrant, outdoor community. And with this came a sense of place and belonging - that if something ever happened to us or we needed someone to check on our house while traveling, we'd get help or we'd know whom to call.
The most imporant thing about living in this small, mountain community is that it gave me the license to explore a lifestyle that had always resonated with me - what most might consider a risky or quirky way of earning a living. I had often dreamed of chucking the 9-to-5 corporate job and piece-mealing my earnings from multiple sources, but I didn't think I could do this while living in Los Angeles. In fact, it took me almost 3 years to discover I could do it here. The truth: I work harder than I ever have before. Maintain longer hours because, at the end of the day, I have no guarantee money will flutter into my bank account every other Friday. And even after 2 1/2 years of this existence, I find it at times scary. But I wouldn't change a thing and mitigate my fears with thoughts of not being able to meet friends for a long, mid-morning mountain bike ride or not being able to linger at my local coffee house.
Yesterday illustrates exactly why I live in a small, mountain town and why I moved here in the first place. Well, at least some concept of why I moved to Big Bear. Though not my first choice, Big Bear has grown on me. I always knew a mountain town was more in step with my energy and spirit. Living in the city mid-week and escaping to Mammoth, the Sierras or hiking LA's less urban trails wasn't a horrible existence but it always left depressed on Monday's and counting the hours until the next weekend. I enjoyed my time in LA, even consider myself a successful city-dweller, but I counldn't return.
Although, I have to admit the transition to small-town living was not easy. The first two years we were here, we didn't have a clue. No friends - only acquaintances. Spent much of our time remodeling the house and continuing to drive for outdoor escapes. Didn't really engage much outside of our city circle-of-friends. I would have to say it wasn't until we started to mountain bike that we began to meet people with similar interests. Until then I wasn't too sure there were truly outdoorsy people in Big Bear. As we started to spend more time mountain biking and less time remodeling, we tapped into a vibrant, outdoor community. And with this came a sense of place and belonging - that if something ever happened to us or we needed someone to check on our house while traveling, we'd get help or we'd know whom to call.
The most imporant thing about living in this small, mountain community is that it gave me the license to explore a lifestyle that had always resonated with me - what most might consider a risky or quirky way of earning a living. I had often dreamed of chucking the 9-to-5 corporate job and piece-mealing my earnings from multiple sources, but I didn't think I could do this while living in Los Angeles. In fact, it took me almost 3 years to discover I could do it here. The truth: I work harder than I ever have before. Maintain longer hours because, at the end of the day, I have no guarantee money will flutter into my bank account every other Friday. And even after 2 1/2 years of this existence, I find it at times scary. But I wouldn't change a thing and mitigate my fears with thoughts of not being able to meet friends for a long, mid-morning mountain bike ride or not being able to linger at my local coffee house.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
American Worker - Ski Patrol!
Not to drag out our Russian adventure, but Matt found a link referencing the Competition. See http://www.risk.ru/users/6floor/3674. These were taken by two snowboarders from Petropavlovsk that were filming the Race. There are some excellent images of the more technical sections Matt and Scott had to negotiate. The translation under Matt's photo goes something like, "Matt Theis, American worker, ski patrol."As they say, "No Risk, No Fun!"
Monday, May 5, 2008
Back Home
After picking up our luggage (all of our luggage this time) and filling up the car's tank ($4.05 a gallon - what the hell happened while we were gone?), we began the long drive to pick up McGyver and head home to Big Bear. Over the weekend we unpacked, did about 5 loads of laundry, sifted through our mail, caught up with friends and saw two of them off as they move on to Bend, Oregon. The jet lag took hold on Sunday evening as I lay staring at the ceiling for hours listening to Pink Floyd. Sleep came about 3:00 a.m. and was interrupted at 7:00 for a planned farewell-mountain-bike ride for other friends moving to Taos, New Mexico.
While it is a let down not to be skiing in Kamchatka, it is good to be home. We have made the promise to simplify our lives even further. In 2002, after returning from Lake Baikal in Central Siberia we left the big city, bought a house and moved to Big Bear Lake - a small mountain town in Southern California's San Bernardino Mountains. Though I am not sure what will be the result of our trip this time I do know we spent the weekend contemplating our trip, drinking a lot of tea, avoiding our cell phones, the news and television, and parked the car and rode our bikes everywhere.
Perhaps this will be the new direction of Airstream Nomad - a continuation of Kamchatka and our quest to enjoy every day and eeek out a living in a small town doing the same.
While it is a let down not to be skiing in Kamchatka, it is good to be home. We have made the promise to simplify our lives even further. In 2002, after returning from Lake Baikal in Central Siberia we left the big city, bought a house and moved to Big Bear Lake - a small mountain town in Southern California's San Bernardino Mountains. Though I am not sure what will be the result of our trip this time I do know we spent the weekend contemplating our trip, drinking a lot of tea, avoiding our cell phones, the news and television, and parked the car and rode our bikes everywhere.
Perhaps this will be the new direction of Airstream Nomad - a continuation of Kamchatka and our quest to enjoy every day and eeek out a living in a small town doing the same.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Bright Lights, Big City
We find ourselves in downtown Seoul - a bit like immersion therapy before returning to LAX and our lives. Neon lights, big screen TV's, music thumping, ice cream, Starbucks and department stores. Much like being screamed at rather than spoken to.
It's an interesting contrast. Seoul is modern, the roads paved and well-marked, buildings rise tall and straight. The landscape is well-tended, green and manicured. It's layout is thoughtful. Whereas Petropavlovsk, the urban center of Kamchatka, is hap-hazard and confusing. Ugly concrete apartment buildings abound in varying shades of blue, brown and gray back-lit against aging Volcanos. Bags of trash, old tires and plastic bottles collect by the side of the road. Even potholes are ignored. Their increasing size causes traffic to swerve into the opposing lane. But of the two, I prefer Russia's Far East - its complex simplicity, its people and even its blemishes.
It was extremely sad to leave Yelizovo, our home base for the last 27 days. If I could have stayed in Kamchatka I would have been okay, but here in Seoul, I am anxious to return home and get to work on articles and photographs from the last month. We left with the promise to return and even the promise to collaborate with the people we met to help build a low-impact and sustainable backcountry ski tour industry on Kamchatka.
It's an interesting contrast. Seoul is modern, the roads paved and well-marked, buildings rise tall and straight. The landscape is well-tended, green and manicured. It's layout is thoughtful. Whereas Petropavlovsk, the urban center of Kamchatka, is hap-hazard and confusing. Ugly concrete apartment buildings abound in varying shades of blue, brown and gray back-lit against aging Volcanos. Bags of trash, old tires and plastic bottles collect by the side of the road. Even potholes are ignored. Their increasing size causes traffic to swerve into the opposing lane. But of the two, I prefer Russia's Far East - its complex simplicity, its people and even its blemishes.
It was extremely sad to leave Yelizovo, our home base for the last 27 days. If I could have stayed in Kamchatka I would have been okay, but here in Seoul, I am anxious to return home and get to work on articles and photographs from the last month. We left with the promise to return and even the promise to collaborate with the people we met to help build a low-impact and sustainable backcountry ski tour industry on Kamchatka.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
More Photos!
The winners! (In my mind!)
Koryakskaya Volcano opposite Avachinsky Volcano.
Scott being interviewed for his amazing performance.
Last is a place too!
But not for our American team! The Americanskis took a respectable fifth place in the 3rd Annual Kamchatka Ski Alpinism Competition.
The race was exciting! Unexpectedly and at the last minute, three French teams signed on. The Russians were happy to host the international racers, however, when the French took first in the team competition, they were a bit stunned. Quite an upset! This is a serious competition - some participants don speed suits, others travel 10 hours by plane from Moscow, it is covered by national television (both Scott and Matt were interviewed) and is sanctioned as a qualifying event for larger races.
As to the individual competition, after drinking vodka and beer Saturday evening (btw - learned a new saying "Drinking beer without vodka is like throwing money to the wind"), Matt decided to race in the individual competition Sunday morning. From the start he set a fast pace and broke trail. Third to the top of the first uphill, he skied down to the more technical rock section and climbed the rope in strong position to place. Unfortunately we did not bring all the proper gear and this impacted Matt's ability to make a speedy exit of the traverse and the downclimb in order to reach the final ski descent. Matt ended up finishing 5th behind competitors from the Kamchatka Rescue service. He did receive and honorable mention: All admired him for the way he 'danced' on his skis (the sole Telemarker) and the Competition judges rewarded his prowess with a pair of socks. They also invited him back to teach the Russians how to tele.
We were also invited back for next year's race and likewise we promised to compete. I hope to team up with my new friend Inga from Yelizovo to become the first international women's team to enter. It would be really cool to return to Avacha Pass and experience it as a competitor.
Today we are off to Petropavlosk for the day - visiting the Rescue headquarters, meeting with the Director of Tourism for Kamchatka and having coffee with our friend Slava, the kayaker. It has been an awesome month and we leave on Wednesday for Seoul before returning home. Hope to update you then.
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