Une Photo Par Jour

Chop Chop.

2012-01-15T12:17:00.001-07:00

It's gone. Or rather, it's here in this plastic bag, waiting to be mailed to Locks of Love: my ponytail.

As my haircutter said, this ain't my first rodeo. This will be the fifth ponytail I've shipped off to Locks of Love over the last 9 years. That's not to say I love getting my hair chopped; there's always that two-month period of awkwardness, when I can't quite get my hair into a ponytail, but without restraint it dries into the ultimate poof - the blonde fro. I find myself looking around at all the gals with long hair and wondering what I was thinking. Again.

Anywho, the last straw, or the last hair rather, was finding yet another 15-inch-long hair...this time embedded in one of my pancakes. That's it, I thought. Time to go see the butcher.

Snow Booties.

2011-12-31T16:49:00.000-07:00

Bailey got some hilarious little snow boots for Christmas! Watch her first bootie experience:

Watch it on YouTube here.

Last Minute Holiday Cards!

2011-12-01T13:10:00.000-07:00

Aren't these cute? It's not too late to put together a holiday card.

Available in many different shapes and colors, and they ship fast. Contact me with questions or to schedule a portrait session. I will be in Jackson through December 19th, then in Atlanta until the 29th.

Still Bedazzling.

2011-11-22T09:47:00.000-07:00

Bailey's back! If only she could talk: I hitched a ride for her with some random truck drivers all the way from Atlanta to the Rockies. They got here in record time, stopping only to drop off appliances and trailers and the like. Apparently Bailey rode on the console, or in the lap of whoever was trying to sleep, the whole way. Whatta spoiled rotten rat.

There's nothing like having a dog around to force me to take a walk every single day, no matter the weather (especially in November in Jackson).

Did We Dream It?

2011-11-07T17:15:00.001-07:00

It still surprises me to come home and find that, after only a day or two, every trip feels like a dream. Near or far, traveling lives in the same part of my brain as dreaming: I dream it up, it happens and often feels somewhat dreamlike, then I go home and it becomes a surreal memory.

That is not to say that Indonesia was all dreamy: it was quite real. As in any developing country, there is no trash system: trash lines the roads and the popular beaches or gets thrown into burn piles in tiny courtyards. The toilets are the stuff of nightmares (especially when mixed with public transportation). The showers are cold - unless you are forking over that extra wad of Rupiahs. We, the bulés (white people), enjoy (or endure, depending on the situation) the status of millionaire, literally and figuratively. Just $100 converts to about 1,000,000 Rupiahs - a sum the rare Indonesian makes in a year. And so, $1 meals abound and $6 accommodations are easy to find (yes, that's if you can sacrifice the hot shower). It is a budget traveler's fantasy, assuming that budget traveler has the kahunas to haggle nonstop for correct prices.

Meet the budget traveler who is just that: my lovely cousin Anna. She has spent the last 6 months (or more?) adventuring around southeast Asia, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. She has some amazing stories; I am green with envy of her experiences. We spent about 9 days with her on the islands of Lombok, the Gilis and Bali.

Riding a good samaritan's good will on Bali (the peace sign is still cool in Asia).

We Begin.

We began in south Bali. I think the only way I'd return to south Bali is if I got really good at surfing. The beaches are crowded; there are hawkers everywhere trying to sell this and that. Gated resort communities tower over Balinese slums. That said, there are some gorgeous vistas, such as the ones from the Ulu Watu temple in my previous post. Obviously there is much to like about south Bali given the hoards of tourists and Aussie surfers. And we certainly found something to like: a deluxe, get-rid-of-your-jetlag hotel room courtesy of Ben's mom and stepdad (thanks Anne & Wendell!). Check out our pad for the first two nights of the trip:

Yep. That's right. We had butler service and hot water here.

Bali to Lombok.

From south Bali we headed east to Lombok to meet Anna and surf. Lombok is predominantly Muslim, and tourism hasn't come close to what it is in Bali. We got stared at. We got our picture taken. A lot. Sasaks have a fascination with bulés. These kids crowded around us on a swimming beach in Kuta, and their parents kept sneaking up and trying to take pictures of us with their cellphones.

Everyone gather 'round.

Yes, show me the sand!

A Sasak family bringing in the day's catch.

We had a motorbike in Kuta, Lombok, along with our very own Sasak Mama. Mama's family scooped us up when we arrived in Kuta after dark and took us to their rural homestay where we rented a room for $6 a night. Mama had her own fleet of motorbikes and surfboards, as well as chickens, roosters, goats, cats, dogs and Aussie surfers. It was one of the grossest places we stayed but also my favorite. Mama would yell "you want breee-pass (breakfast)?!" as soon as we opened our door each morning. In the afternoons, when the heat got too intense to function, Papa and various family members and random Sasaks would lie around in the balés (open-air huts) in the yard.

A seven-year-old helped us get our bike started. Pretty sure there's no age limit for driving; Indonesians pile entire families and hoards of goods on the motorbikes.

Lombok to the Gili Islands.

From Kuta we headed to the Gili Islands, off the coast of Lombok. Gili Meno was our base camp for several days. As soon as we arrived we all slipped into the kind of coma that is induced only by the most relaxing places on Earth. Anna and I sat in the balé on the beach and talked for hours while Ben went snorkeling, flipping along the reef just offshore. We read books, ate banana pancakes and watched horse-drawn carts trot by. For once I didn't feel an ounce of guilt for being a sloth-like human being.

Our post on Gili Meno: Sunset Gecko.

Stray cats EVERYwhere.

Passing the hours with good conversations, good books and good food in the balé.

Gili Meno is so small that you can walk its circumference in 45 minutes, stopping along the way to take in the mountainous views of Lombok and the strange dichotomy of cultures across the channel on Gili Trawangan. "Gili-T," as it is called on the backpacker circuit, consists of bikini-clad, strung-out Westerners sharing a tiny, sea-locked space with hijab-wearing Muslims. Mosques blare prayers multiple times a day, seemingly competing with the deafening hip hop music in the main street bars.

Sasak kids watching the mayhem on Gili T's main street.

Paddle boarding off Gili T on Ben's birthday.

On the little commuter boat from the Gilis to Lombok,
gripping the plywood bench & hoping not to capsize.

The Gilis to Central Bali.

From the Gilis, we went to the town of Ubud in central Bali. We'd had enough beach time (i.e., we were both ridiculously sunburned from surfing) and we wanted to see more Balinese culture. Ubud proved to be our home base for the rest of the trip; it's a groovy little city with Hindu temples and offerings everywhere, health food restaurants, spas, yoga studios and miles of rice fields within walking distance.

Market in Ubud.

Checking out a temple in downtown Ubud.

Real lotus flowers!

Anna & Ben wandering along one of the zillion little pathways
between the rice fields and bustling streets of Ubud.

We splurged on a deluxe place in Ubud ($15/each/night...amazing).
This is the view from our balcony at night.

We spent a lot of time walking around Ubud and the surrounding rice patties. We met farmer Wayan on one of our walks. He showed us how the rice grows and cracked open a coconut for us to drink from. We eventually bought a huge bottle of coconut oil that his wife made at home.

Rice, about a week before harvest.

Eating the coconut "meat."

More Walking Adventures.

This first photo is of farmers herding ducks. You read it right: ducks. They move the frantic little quackers between rice patties and use them to eat snails.

I would like to herd ducks one day.

My favorite walk along Campuan Ridge.

Motorbiking Adventures.

We also took a lot of day trips on the motorbike. I loved the motorbike: traffic in Indonesia is such organized chaos. If there is space somewhere on the road, someone will take it. Lanes are only a suggestion; horns are constant and simply mean that someone - often a huge truck - is coming through and not stopping.

Helmets? Yes, please.

We saw a lot of stuff on our motorbike tours:

A coffee and herb farm.

One of thousands of Hindu temples in and around Ubud.

Beautiful rice terraces north of Ubud.

Volcanoes everywhere.

Tomatillos at a roadside fruit stand.

In case you are feeling jealous, hopefully this will keep things in perspective:

Moi, in the midst of a 48-hour poop and barf fest. Ben & I's motto,
through our sunburns and upset stomachs and blistered lips, was whitey come to Asia.
Whitey paid more than 50 cents for lunch after that.

Indonesia Part I: Monkeying Around.

2011-10-29T18:16:00.002-06:00

I'm still editing my Indonesia photos (and procrastinating quite well at that). So, here's a teaser: photos of some of my favorite subjects in "Indo" which were, undoubtedly, the monkeys. Click the photos for a larger view!

I could watch monkeys for hours and be entertained. They gather around the Hindu temples in Indonesia in the "Monkey Forests." At the more popular temples, such as Ulu Watu shown here, they have become conniving little rascals, stealing glasses off people's faces and grabbing at bags of chips and anklets and hats. They have no fear. And, sadly, at Ulu Watu hoards of tourists only encourage them by feeding them. Even so, the resident monkeys at Ulu Watu enjoy unparalleled scenery.

Two monkeys guarding their baby, snapping at anyone who got close.

We saw multiple people get hissed at and almost bitten. These monkeys are adorable but only from a distance, and they close that distance as they please! With tales from a friend who got bitten at this very temple ringing in the back of my mind, I spent our time at Ulu Watu watching my back and taking long detours around monkeys, only to run into more monkeys. A bite would not only be unpleasant; it would incur days spent in Bali's chaotic capital of Denpasar getting treated for rabies. No thanks.

Waiting for the right moment...to pounce.

A young one carrying some loot.

The incredible view from Ulu Watu over the Indian Ocean.

More views from Ulu Watu.

Looking down at the famous surf break at Ulu Watu. The Lonely Planet calls the break "the stuff of dreams and nightmares." We aren't good enough surfers to have even gotten close in the water, but it was amazing to watch some surfers from above, waiting for that perfect wave.

Aside from the designated Monkey Forests, monkeys roam throughout the jungle and hang out on the sides of the roads. They sit on the guardrails and pick bugs off each other's backs or just watch the cars. Even though they can be vicious, seeing them sitting quietly on the guardrails, watching passersby with their potbellies poking out and their hands crossed in their laps, made me want to squeeze them.

Two men hanging out with the roadside monkeys near Padangbai, Bali.

It's Berry-Pickin' Season!

2011-09-01T15:56:00.001-06:00

Those of you who know me well know that fruit and veggie-pickin' is one of my most favorite things to do. Ever. Anywhere in the world. Do not ask me why; all I can tell you is that it makes me feel like a kid in a candy shop.

On that note, if anyone reading this (if, indeed, anyone is reading this) has ever WWOOFed before, I want to hear about it. Or if anyone has friends with an organic farm in the northeast, California, or for heaven's sake, New Zealand, and would take a willing worker, I want to hear about that too.

Back to the original note: berry-pickin' season is happening. There is an overwhelming, unruly, sprawling patch of raspberries taking over part of Ben's yard. Every other day I find myself lost in the raspberries, filling tupperware after tupperware, looking up only to find that I haven't made a dent in all there are to pick. I've become a master of wading through the bushes, squashing the prickly thistles with my flip flops and creeping past the poking willows.

This year I finally did something I've always said I would do but had never done: made jam during berry-pickin' season. Here's a visual taste of how it went:

These are the ones that survived my gorging-while-picking.

Oh yeah, the huckleberries are going off too. Why not throw 'em in?
Step 1: Chopping the berries in a food processor.

That's a lot o berries.
Step 2: Boil the berries.

Step 3: Add pectin. Stir it up. Add sugar. Stir it more.
(To the makers of Sure-Jell: the name of your product is incredibly unappetizing. Other than that it works fine, even for first-time jammers like me).

Step 3: Pour the jam into a clean jar with a seal-tight lid and place the jar in a something-or-other that is tall enough to have boiling water rise over the top of the lid.
I didn't have one of those something-or-others that Sure-Jell referred to, which worried me. But I've never been afraid to improvise in the kitchen (for better or for worse).
So here's my jam sitting in hot water in the sink.
After about 12 hours my concoction turned into JAM!
(FYI: Boil if the jam is going to sit in the fridge for a while. It kills bacteria on the lid.)

It's about time to make another jar.

The Forest Is Afire.

2011-08-26T11:24:00.001-06:00

As of yesterday the so-called Red Rock Fire - a wildfire started by lightning in the Gros Ventre Range about a week ago - had spread to over 6700 acres.

Wow.

The valley has been covered by reddish smoke in the mornings for the last few days. The thickest haze appeared on Wednesday. This is the valley from Teton Pass at about 8am that morning:

Later in the day the haze dissipated, but the plume of smoke over the Sleeping Indian, or Sheep Mountain, remained:

Pretty cool to see, huh?

Good Ole Mon-tucky.

2011-08-24T22:27:00.000-06:00

Really, Montana is not much like Kentucky (not that I have spent much time in Kentucky, but I think it's kind of like Georgia with a more bright green countryside). But for some reason Ben has taken to calling Montana Montucky. Like any catchy nickname it has totally stuck in my mind, but I got several weird looks this summer and last summer when I said it in front of the girls.

Montana marked the beginning of my summer with Alpengirl; from there my co-guide Sophia and I flew to Alaska, then to Hawaii, for the trips that I posted about earlier. What a huge shift in climates and landscapes! The Montana trip, with its focus on photojournalism, got my creative juices flowing for the rest of the summer.

Practicing macro photography

Making a big, healthy salad with the cook crew

Canoeing, and showing off our best whale breech reenactments, on the Henry's Fork of the Snake River

Montucky sunset

Contrast and color

Finding our way...

Teaching the fire skill bead girls to make their own fire

The last day of backpacking in the Tobacco Roots

Ode to Maggie the Bride.

2011-08-23T18:57:00.000-06:00

This comes a bit late in lieu of my recent travels, but all summer I've looked forward to dedicating a post to my cousin, Maggie, who married Chris Bradford in June in Atlanta.

The wedding called for a quick but wonderful visit. Alley (my bestest cousin and friend) and I drank wine and reminisced about how, ever since she exited the womb and entered our lives, we've thought Maggie was the coolest of the cool: she is someone whose affection has always been sought after. And so we wrote this ode to the one, and only, Margie:

Ode to Maggie the Bride,

by The Cousin Clan

Today we rehearsed the wedding of Maggie and Chris,

But little do you know, we’re all quite ready for this.

With binky for a veil and Grayton beach as an aisle,

We’ve practiced cousin weddings for quite a while.

“Which cousin will be first?” we wondered all our life,

But Grandma Betty always knew Maggie’d be the first to be a wife.

Maggie, Mags, Margie, and Twin Toes,

Us cousins have always followed her wherever she goes.

She always found the most Easter eggs and was Susan’s art camp protégé,

She’s really good at everything, despite her middle name: Fayhey.

We envied her newt-finding skills and her extra large Seaside shirts,

As well as her quiet charisma and the way her dad called her Squirt.

From wearing silly hats to waitressing in the Lanning House pub

To building forts for the mysterious CAJAM River Club,

Margie always concocted surprising plans of her own,

Not unlike flushing Stephen’s head in the commode.

Beach plays were the best, from Phantom of the Opera to The Lion King,

We even did musicals, made up dances...and tried to sing.

Us cousins had a blast and charged a mandatory fee,

Our parents complied and watched, but knew that actors we would never be.

Once we outgrew our theatrical acting days,

One by one we each moved onto another phase.

So off to Athens Maggie went, where we snagged her for Phi Mu,

And in no time at all, Chris had started to pursue.

Through date nights and tailgates, Maggie played it cool,

But Chris never gave up: he’s nobody’s fool.

Once they both moved to Atlanta, Maggie realized Chris was a keeper,

And over the last few years, we’ve watched their love & devotion grow deeper.

So Chris, we know first hand that Maggie is quite the catch,

But once you entered the picture, we knew she’d met her match.

Maggie, calling you cousin has always filled us with pride,

And tomorrow will be no different, with you as the beautiful bride.

Now, Chris, on behalf of the entire cousin clan,

We couldn’t wait to tell you: welcome to the fam.

I assisted my friend Abby Bullock Smith in photographing the wedding: click the images for a larger view.

Two generations of fashionistas: my mom and my grandmother, Betty.
Doesn't my mom look like she's about 35 and hitting the gym every day??
Can I please have those genes? Fortunately my mom didn't spend
the better part of her 20's getting wind-burned at high altitude. Sigh.

Adding the final touches.

Margie: can you ever forgive me for posting this?

Margie and her bridesmaids: what a stunning crew!

My friend & photographer Abby capturing Maggie & Rebecca;
the arches and walkways at this church are so beautiful.
It's a super special place for my family and me: I hadn't been back since Alley & I
gave our grandfather's eulogy 4 years ago. I am sure PauPaul was there too,
watching the first of many weddings to come.

Maggie and little sister Rebecca. They could be twins in this picture.

Off she goes with Bec and Stephen.

I love this picture, mainly because of the memory it holds. Click on it to blow it up -
the light was perfect and everyone was quiet. Our camera shutters clicked away, echoing, and the church organ played, muffled by the gigantic wooden doors, in the background;
it was the last moment behind the scenes before the wedding party walked down the aisle.

I was crying like a baby behind my camera at this moment,
alone with my tripod in the balcony.

And now, says Rebecca, PARTAY TIME!

Flower petals to throw at the newlyweds...I apologize to all of
the victims of my flash during my drunken state.

Fortunately Carter didn't mind the flash: looking brilliant and professional, per usual.
And that's Anna, whom I'll be joining in Indonesia in T minus ONE MONTH
(cannot contain my excitement...)

Did that really just happen? It's already over?

Happy Baby.

2011-08-17T09:30:00.002-06:00

One of the most beautiful things I've witnessed in the last year is one of my best friends - Abby - falling in love with a new man in her life: her & Gene's little baby Reed. This portrait sesh was one of the highlights of a great visit to Georgia in June. Hanging out with Reed has become one of my favorite pastimes (hint hint: Abby, get your butt out to Jackson this fall).

Click on the photos for a larger view of the overwhelming cuteness.

Captain Basil witnessed it all.

Scratching the Surface of Alaska.

2011-08-16T16:11:00.000-06:00

I could hardly wrap my head around the monstrosity that is Alaska: the rivers are huge, there are turquoise lakes everywhere, the mountains are gargantuan, the weather is unforgiving, the forests are Avatar-esque, and the bugs and bears are bigger and badder than anywhere I've been.

I loved it, yes; I loved it because it humbled me and kept me on my game and made me want to return again and again to remember just how tiny we are in this big world. Alaska is undoubtedly the last frontier. You could set up shop in one of its many mountain ranges and no one in a 100-mile radius would give a damn, but you'd better be ready for 24 hours of darkness in the winter, 24 hours of daylight in the summer and the biggest mosquitos alive in the northern hemisphere.

I couldn't help but look around at every mountain we passed by (that would be thousands, as they line every highway and surround every body of water) and wonder what it'd be like in the wintertime: a winter wonderland, I'm sure, and a skier's greatest dream come true.

Click on the photos below for a larger view.

Kenai Lake on the Kenai Peninsula near Seward - the start and end of our backpack.

Above our campsite by Lost Lake...the colors and views were incredible.

Along the Lost Lake trail.

Taking off into Prince William Sound from Whittier; beginning our sea kayaking trip.

Sea stuff! The sound is FULL of amazing plants & animals, especially the ones that pop up on the beaches at low tide.

Watching the sun trying to set - but never really setting - after putting the kayaks "to bed."

St. Lawrence Glacier in Blackstone Bay.

There's my cheesy guide pose next to St. Lawrence Glacier.

Returning to camp just before midnight after paddling toward the calving glaciers in Blackstone Bay.

Counting Backwards. Hawaii, How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways.

2011-08-15T13:08:00.004-06:00

Hawaii is the most recent destination, the most fresh in my mind. As I go through my pictures I can hardly believe the last Alpengirl trip has come and gone. From Waipio and Waimanu Valleys to Volcano National Park; from surfing and snorkeling to staying on the farm of my dreams near Hawi, we made a big circle and criss-crossed the Big Island, seeing many of the different microclimates that exist there.

The wet side bursts with greens and gigantic trees and fruits and waterfalls; the dry side is a black desert, covered with volcanic rock and dry yellow grass; and the higher altitudes took me back to Alaska: cold enough to see your breath at night.

Let me count just a few of the ways in which I love Hawaii (click on photos for a larger view):

I love Hawaii for its sunsets and sunrises, its sea turtles and warm nights;

I love Hawaii for its varied terrain and the pristine Waimanu Valley;

for the lush rainy side of the island, the fruit and nut trees, the pigs and birds and marine life;

the beaches and the happiness they instill;

the landscapes around Hawi that are so beautiful they almost seem eerie;

the abundance of life, of fruit, of animals and plants;

the "cowboy country" that still thrives in the mountainous interior;

and the amazing, welcoming hosts who shared their homes and traditions with us.

And We're Back.

2011-08-10T17:14:00.000-06:00

It's back to the "mainland," back to Jackson, back to my adult friends, my computer, my bike, my car after almost 2 months away working for Alpengirl. Goodbye, for now, to my teenage friends! Soon - as in, as soon as I can process over 1000 photos - there will be images posted and stories shared. If I haven't talked to you this summer, I can't wait to catch up. If I have, thanks for the birthday wishes and the support along the way!

Yours truly discovering a new addiction. Thank you for the photos McKenna!

Bringing Yoga and Ayurveda To You & Me: Portraits of a Lifestyle Worth Sharing.

2011-05-31T16:02:00.001-06:00

I spent much of this winter learning about, and consequently thinking about, Ayurveda.

Don't bang your head against the wall if your thinking what in the world is Ayurveda? In the most simple terms, Ayurveda is ancient Indian medicine. Indian as in India, not Native American, though I would not be surprised if there were striking similarities between the two.

The course was spread out over the last 9 months, and though my energy with it waxed and waned as it will with anything that lasts multiple seasons, looking back I realize that it truly changed me. It changed the way I view food and meals and spices. It changed the way I view my body. And it changed the way I view the environment around me. These are all just parts of the large equation that affect health, happiness, energy levels and overall awareness.

I am not a doctor. Nor am I any sort of health expert after taking a 9-month course. But I will be so bold as to suggest these things: drink a warm glass of water first thing in the morning. Every morning. Try adding some lemon juice to it.

And, sometime when you're feeling groovy and up for a challenge, sit in a quiet space and listen to your body; feel into your body. Is it trying to talk to you? You should probably listen.

I want to share some portraits I took of the lovely teacher of this course. Her name is Cate Stillman (soon you'll see more portraits from our photo shoot on her website). She is a warrior for whole health rooted in Ayurveda and Anusara yoga, and she acts as such through education, cleanses, treatments, yoga classes and more.

The best part of our photo shoot? When Cate harvested dandelions, thistle and alfalfa from her yard ("pests" that most people spray with Round-Up) and threw them into a power blender to make green smoothies.

Yes, they were fabulous; slightly bitter, as greens straight out of the ground will be, but sweetened just enough with some stevia and agave.

Check out Cate's rad green house, proving us all wrong when we say nothing grows here.

I had fun.

And I think Cate did too.

Basil's Last Western Adventure...For Now.

2011-05-26T18:00:00.001-06:00

The Bailey Dog, also known as Captain Basil, The Basil Unit, Basil, Bedazzled, Dazzle, Monkey Dog, Monkey-Pig-Rat Dog, Monster, and Little (among other bizarre mutterings), has begun her own adventure today: she is riding 2000 miles from Jackson to Georgia with my dad, embarking on a summer full of hot walks, trips to the lake, jumping 360s in my dad's apartment, and eating cat food at my mom's house. She will likely be standing on the console of my dad's 4-Runner for the entire trip, occasionally tapping him on the shoulder with her left paw for balance or, more likely, attention.

After the NOLS IC, I continued my desert tour by going climbing and biking with Ben and Monkey-Pig-Rat Dog in Moab, Indian Creek and Fruita.

Welcome to our Indian Creek camp:

I haven't seen much of this planet, but I think once I do, Indian Creek will still be one of my favorite places.

We spent one night in Castle Valley, per usual. Oh Fisher Towers, how I love thee:

After getting thrashed in Indian Creek, dragging our hands and ankles up crack climbs galore, we headed to Fruita, Colorado - a mountain biking mecca. I was quite enchanted with Fruita: the bike trails are smooth and scenic, winding through grassy fields and rolling like a roller coaster over narrow ridges.

Ben and I went to Grand Junction one afternoon and passed by a bustling fairground. He looked at me and asked if I wanted to go ride the roller coaster. I told him we'd already ridden our roller coaster for the day.

Captain Basil sighs and takes it all in. It's a rough life.

Wishing a safe drive to my dad and the Captain. See you soon in the dirty south!

Dodging Rattlesnakes in the Gila Wilderness & Slinging Chicken Heads in Cochise Stronghold.

2011-05-24T10:28:00.004-06:00

I spent most of this spring on a NOLS Instructor Course becoming certified to instruct rock climbing and backpacking courses. It was one of the most enriching & educational experiences of my life.

I belly-laughed more than I can remember belly-laughing since traveling in Ireland with Megan. This was due to the funny people, my own clumsiness, and the dry humor that the mountains seem to pull out of us as we grow dirty and our clothes get holes in them and our inhibitions start to slide away.

We climbed in Cochise - a place that resembled how I have always imagined Africa, dotted with granite domes and outcroppings, lined with gritty crack climbs and chicken heads. We built anchors with nothing but dinner plate-sized chicken heads and cordalettes; some pitches offered only slipknots on chicken heads for protection.

We hiked for 20 days in the Gila Wilderness of New Mexico - the wildest place I've been besides the Absarokas. We saw two mule deer in a remote canyon that had died stuck together by their antlers. We saw beautiful Ponderosa pine forests, and we taught each other about backcountry nutrition, public land management, the reintroduction of wolves in the Gila, how to bake on backcountry stoves using "twiggy fires," and the list goes on.

We spent hours upon hours bushwhacking off-trail, scrambling and rappelling through rock-filled drainages, and wading (or more likely swimming) through icy pools of water lined with steep rock walls.

We climbed Shelley Peak, which you have probably never heard of, but which will remain one of the most memorable summits of my life due to the great company of my hiking group, the surprising and daunting descent route, and the incredible thorny shwack that caused us to "bulldoze" our trail at about a half a mile an hour for the better [or worse] part of 12+ hours.

We witnessed one of our male rock climbing instructors prancing around on a summit in a grandma-style bathing suit, anything but properly worn, and we giggled our way through 8-minute abs sessions, short-roping each other, tangling our limbs together in hanging belays, and climbing in tutus.

We slept under the stars and dodged numerous rattlesnakes and drank afternoon cups of Joe and scrutinized terrain features on topo maps. We drank water that looked like slime (only sometimes Mom) and ate magically expanding foods and repaired various holes and rips and blisters and poison ivy rashes.

Eventually we deepened our yoga practices together, read excerpts of cheesy romance novels aloud, heard each other's farts without wincing, disregarded any previous ideas about b.o. or greasy-slick heads, cut each other's hair, hauled an entire BBQ feast up a 5-pitch granite dome (because why not?), and partied like college kids to celebrate it all at the end.

I am so lucky to have been there for it all.

Portraits, Encore, With A Bonus: Dessert.

2011-03-27T10:32:00.003-06:00

This shoot featured local wellness guru Ariel Mann. She cooks nutritious, organic foods, is a yoga instructor, and provides wellness retreats alongside her mother, Carol Mann. It was very cool to see these two cooking side by side, meet their rescued pets, and taste Ariel's delicious desserts.

At this moment, I conveniently forgot that I'm not supposed to eat gluten. Yummm, pumpkin chocolate chip muffins.

Recent Portraits: Local Folks & A Little Peak Into Their Lives

2011-03-27T10:06:00.005-06:00

I love shooting portraits - capturing the essence of someone or what they do in a photograph is difficult, but when you feel like you've captured even just a tiny taste of that essence, it is so rewarding.

I had the pleasure of photographing my friends Liz & Jeremy last week; Liz is pregnant, expecting in May. She is looking beautiful; they are both glowing.

Good Morning, Ladies.

2011-02-12T22:33:00.004-07:00

This herd of elk graced me with their presence last week at the farm out in Wilson. I shoveled manure, they watched; I watched them, they followed their man off into the willows...

Bailey's First Powder Day.

2011-02-05T16:22:00.005-07:00

We just couldn't leave her behind today, so we came up with a plan: Mr. Backcountry Ride gave the ultimate backcountry ride.

She looks nice and cozy, doesn't she?...swaddled in a down jacket with a bungie cord holding her in. After Ben's first few turns she glanced back at me with a look of "What the f$^&, Mom?" A few more turns and she seemed pretty darn happy. Who wouldn't be? It's a glorified roller coaster with powder flying up in your face.

I think she made the team; no more sitting in the car while we go skiing on the Pass. Next post: action shots.

The Office.

2011-02-03T21:07:00.004-07:00

My co-workers:

They are incredibly lazy employees.

Chester Bear: nothin' but love...

Bailey at the buffet...next stop: chicken poop.

Crap! Mom caught me again.

La Famille.

2011-01-15T21:03:00.000-07:00

Cousin Maggie with her baby Bella.

Oh yes. Partay time.

All the Smith ladies...my ladies.

Besties.

-4℉

2010-11-25T12:55:00.004-07:00

Our first deep freeze hit the valley this week: yesterday the high was about 3℉, last night it was -4℉, and today won't get above 6℉. It's a bit more comfortable than the -25℉ snaps we're bound to see at least once or twice a winter, but it's plenty cold to keep Bailey on the couch and me looking like I stepped out of A Christmas Story every time I leave the house.

Though I've seen enough deep freezes to maybe consider myself a Jackson local, I have never seen this:

Bye bye, my only BPA-free water bottle. Death came upon it in my car last night.

I ran inside to tell Bailey, but she couldn't be bothered. She's embracing the Thanksgiving holiday.

Snuggle Bunny.

Happy Thanksgiving to the fam at home. I love & miss yall!

Some Flattering Press.

2010-11-12T13:08:00.002-07:00

Aperture Jackson Hole featured me as the guest photographer this week. Check it out!

Inverted.

2010-11-05T14:58:00.005-06:00

We've been trapped in the dreamlike state induced by days on end where the sun doesn't shine. Sparkling frost, low fog, and the color gray surrounds us.

Yesterday though, I remembered that all one has to do for that dose of vitamin D is drive to the top of Teton Pass. It felt so good - sweet sunshine, blue sky, and the cloud blanket below and behind me...at least for a couple of hours.

Hard to believe this is the same place. It seems the Indian summer is still hanging on up high.

It's Not What You Think.

2010-11-04T11:20:00.002-06:00

http://whathasobamadonesofar.com/
I like it.

It Begins.

2010-10-25T11:40:00.003-06:00

Just two days ago it felt like early fall. Now, after a much appreciated Indian summer, winter is upon us. I'm hoping for a quick recovery from my hardware removal surgery this Friday because it's gonna be a big, deep winter.

Snow King: almost looks ski-able!

Rainbows, Tarantulas, Climbs Called Frogland.

2010-10-13T08:54:00.003-06:00

The West continues to woo me....

with unpredictable weather,

unpredictable wildlife,

and huge, starry skies.

Animal House!

2010-09-23T09:11:00.002-06:00

Can you spot the magpie in the kitchen? It came in through the boot room (we regularly leave the front door open), flew around amongst three dogs and a cat, and after snapping a photo I let it out through the side door.

Red Sky at Night, Sailors' Delight.

2010-09-23T09:09:00.002-06:00

Amazing red sky on Ida Lane.

Photography Tutoring.

2010-09-07T11:40:00.001-06:00

One of my students working with fill flash & ponies on a beautiful September day.

The view from the grocery store.

2010-08-11T22:08:00.003-06:00

It's easy to remember why I live here when I walk out of the grocery store and see this.

MONTANA

2010-07-17T13:22:00.005-06:00

I was lucky enough to spend almost three weeks in Montana this summer working for Alpengirl, an awesome outdoor adventure company for girls. I guided Alpengirl's Montana Photojournalism trip with two co-guides. We got a super-talented, silly, sweet group of teenage girls. The trip consisted of not only photography lessons, but a backpacking section in the Tobacco Roots, rafting on the Yellowstone and Gallatin Rivers, canoeing on the Snake River at Henry's Fork, horseback riding in the breathtaking Centennial Valley, touring Yellowstone National Park including the Lamar Valley, and camping throughout these beautiful parts of Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming.

OREGON

2010-07-14T11:35:00.015-06:00

My first visit to Oregon FLEW by. A week was hardly enough to explore Smith Rock, mountain bike in a rainforest that reminded me of Avatar, check out the college town of Eugene, take in the dramatic coast, walk around crazy Portland, and see the Columbia River.

Smith Rock towers over the Crooked River just outside of Bend, Oregon.

The lush Oregon coast.

Green Gears Transportation - Saving The Planet One Bike Ride At A Time!

2010-05-27T13:01:00.005-06:00

Some friends of mine recently started a new business here in Jackson called Green Gears Transportation. Their mission: reduce greenhouse gases and traffic by offering bike-driven taxis and rental bikes to the influx of tourists, seasonal workers, and locals alike during the warm summer months. Green Gears bike racks have started popping up in front of hotels and businesses all over town. If you're lucky, you may have already caught a glimpse of the bike taxi drivers getting warmed up on the streets of downtown.I got to test it out and pull the boys around:
The owners, Ben, Jessi, & Jonathan, cruising by the Elk Refuge...
The incredible rock-hopping PediCab off-roading in Stormy Circle:
*Bailey did survive (she's not the smartest dog around).

o.m.g.

2010-03-06T08:00:00.000-07:00

It's amazing how our voices change into high-pitched squeaks when a puppy enters the house, but I swear it is physically impossible to talk like a normal person when a little wide-eyed butterball is rolling around, chewing on the big dogs' ears, and hugging your foot like a mini-person while you wash the dishes. Meet Miso, the latest addition on Stormy Circle. Ri.dic.u.lous.ly cute.It's been a rough week for Bailey: that damn puppy keeps showing up (does that thing live here or something?), Mom's been working on the square silver thing day and night, and on Friday the vet did way too much poking around in the fanny area and put her on leash restriction for a shoulder sprain. Lots of treats have been given.

Goin' On A Sleigh Ride.

2010-02-23T22:08:00.002-07:00

I went for a sleigh ride in Wilson with my pal Laura the other day...Bailey helped feed the cows. Actually, she hid under my leg while Laura threw bails of hay to them. If there had been someone bigger than me, I probably would've hid too. There was a humongous bull following us down the levee, and I almost fell off the rickety sleigh every time the horses stopped and started. Nothing like an adventure on the ranch to get me out of bed and whip me out of my sinus infection haze.

Burning Nose, Cold Toes.

2010-02-12T21:53:00.004-07:00

We are getting a lot of sunshine this winter: good for Vitamin D, bad for the snow pack.

On that note, check out one of my recent ponderings: http://thedeal.cleansnipe.com/2010/02/avalanche-airbag-systems-what-are-they-really/

Writing articles for Clean Snipe, a fairly new outdoor gear website, has become one of my latest ventures here in Jackson. That is, besides furnishing my empty home with hand-me-downs and watching my roommate's new puppy rip around the living room with its latest stuffed victim.

Morning Walks.

2010-02-07T23:24:00.001-07:00

It doesn't take much effort to catch the sunrise here in the wintertime. This walk, up Cache Creek, is just minutes away from my new home. Bailey likes it.

The Playground.

2010-02-06T10:44:00.003-07:00

I can play in the mountains again. I've never appreciated it so much as I do now, recovered from an injury.

I talked to a girl last night who broke her back skiing last winter. She is fine - her recovery was actually faster than mine - but in my opinion, much scarier. Here's to good health; it's a huge gift.

Home Sweet Home.

2010-01-31T20:42:00.003-07:00

Nothing like getting creative to furnish an unfurnished home on a budget (or complete lack thereof):

A brand new rope-rug made from not-so-new rope is now lessening the amount of snow we are tracking into my new home on Stormy Circle. Notice the table cloth. The Spiderman himself (you know who you are) gave me a Spiderman blankie for the house, but Bailey liked it so much that I gave it to her.

Missouri: The Good & The Bad.

2010-01-07T08:16:00.000-07:00

The Good:
The Bad:
We spent the night in Independence, MO, and awoke to a bashed-out rear window. Someone had a very happy belated Christmas and is now wearing all of my clothes, using my avalanche and climbing gear in the land of no mountains, and painting ugly pictures with Catherine Campbell's art supplies. And feeding Bailey's dog food to their dog.

Abby and I couldn't help but think hmm, if we weren't a target already in an SUV filled with skis and wrapped Christmas presents, surely we were now with an orange zebra blanket flapping in the window on I-70.

Just Settin' on the Bench.

2009-12-30T08:11:00.000-07:00

My dad and Bailey in Atlanta.

Joyeux Noel In Chamonix.

2009-12-25T15:06:00.000-07:00

We spent the second part of the Alps trip in Chamonix: huge mountains, mostly overcast skies, and tons of young, English-speaking seasoners.
The peaks finally broke through the clouds on Christmas Day.
Even the train stations in Europe are old and beautiful. This was my final au revoir in the Chamonix station before I set off on a two-day trek back to Southern France and eventually the States.

Switzerland. Realization: I Speak No German.

2009-12-23T05:58:00.001-07:00

After a long delay, here are the last photos from Europe. I spent a week in the Alps with various friends, new and old, and my brother Carter. The trip began with a rare view of the Matterhorn on a beautiful, clear day in Zermatt, Switzerland. Switzerland defines the word picturesque. I look forward to going back one day. The people were friendly and the trains were always on time. Or early. After being in France where the train workers strike whenever they feel like it, this was such a luxury. J'adore la Suisse.

Major landmark in Zermatt? The graveyard of climbers from all over the world who lost their lives trying to reach the summit of the Matterhorn.
Switzerland: Chocolate, extremely efficient trains, cleanliness, and St. Bernards, the working dogs of the Swiss Alps.
By the time I made it back up the various trains and trams with my camera, the clouds had rolled in. This is one of the many buildings way up in the Alps. I was amazed at the random churches, hotels, restaurants, and huts that have made their way to the tippy-tops of various peaks.
Skiing with good friends, Chris and Amir. This train went almost to the top, through tunnels and on the sides of huge dropoffs. Crazy.
Zermatt: quaint cabins, perfect Swiss architecture, and no cars except for the town's own electrical vehicles.

Last School Adventure: Madrid.

2009-12-17T09:41:00.003-07:00

We spent the better part of our last week in Madrid, Spain. I got one last taste of the friendly, light-hearted Spanish people before I leave.
Colorful side streets.Spanish street performers.
The "mercado" at night.
Amazing flamenco show.
The indoor "mercado."

This is my last night in Villesèque. I cannot believe three months have gone by already. I'll spend tomorrow night in Grenoble, the "Capital of the Alps," with Marie and Romain; then it's off to ski in Zermatt and Chamonix. Think of me on Christmas: I'll be on a night train to the Toulouse airport.

Field Trip.

2009-12-10T16:31:00.000-07:00

BON ANNIVERSAIRE CARTER!

2009-12-10T14:16:00.006-07:00

Dedicated to Carter, mon frère (my bro), on his 28th birthday.

I love you Carter! Hope you're having a party just like this for your birthday.

Voilà my wonderful cousins and brother on Thanksgiving this year. They made signs for me and Stephen, who's with our troops in Afghanistan. I miss yall! When was the last time we were all in the same country at the same time?

xoxo
Car-tina

P.S. Long live CAJAM.

Les Voisins.

2009-12-09T14:41:00.000-07:00

Get Your Freaking Blur On.

2009-12-08T02:49:00.000-07:00

It's the last week of classes and it's like pulling teeth making sure everyone has pans and blurs in their portfolios. In an act of desperation, I coaxed all the photo students into a van yesterday, drove up a random road into the mountains, and cracked the whip until they ran around for each other with vineyards as their backdrop.

This shot is mine; theirs turned out way better.

Someday they will thank me.

Fête Chez Nous.

2009-12-07T07:29:00.000-07:00

The spread...
for some end-of-the-semester entertaining on our terrace.

M.A.R.S.E.I.L.L.E.

2009-12-05T12:48:00.003-07:00

If you ever have the chance, GO to Marseille.It's pretty much the most interesting, diverse city I've ever visited. Various cultures collide there because of the huge harbor on the Mediterranean. People from Morocco, India, Algeria, and a long list of Eastern European and Arab countries immigrate to Marseille. The open-air markets are colorful and diverse and cheap, and there is a vibe that you can do anything and be anyone in this city...and no one is going to stop you.The city is surrounded by rocky mountains full of hiking, bike trails, and huge limestone cliffs. Marie used to live and work there, so I got the full tour.Voila moi, trying to reach the olive tree in the ginormous pot. There were entire plazas filled with crazy landscape architecture displays like this.Looking out at the Mediterranean from Notre Dame de la Guarde, Marseille's most famous church.

Provence.

2009-12-04T05:39:00.000-07:00

Buy Local.

2009-12-03T13:19:00.007-07:00

€1,99

The Barn.

2009-12-02T14:31:00.003-07:00

I could have sworn this was the ghost of me 20 years ago, come to France, until she turned around and asked me in French if that was my horse.

Today made me nostalgic for my years on the equestrian team at UGA: spending hours upon hours at the barn, searching through tack, catching horses, picking hooves and brushing manes, and finally going to practice in my half-chaps and velvet hat. I was never a good competition rider, but I have always loved to ride.

One of the students takes lessons every week and I finally went with her today to take photos. It was one of those times--and this happened often when I worked for the newspaper in Athens--when I wanted to be the one doing rather than shooting. There is nothing like riding a horse in the fall when it's starting to get cold, listening to your coach talking you through the movements, feeling every step of the horse underneath you and figuring out its rhythm in your hands and heels.The trainer told me he gives our student zee English-speaking horse. I told him that was awfully nice of him.There was a baby. We pet him.

Moonlit Villesèque.

2009-12-01T10:00:00.003-07:00

Sorry to ruin it for you folks back home...but it's a beautiful moon tonight.

Hopefully you'll have clear skies in about eight hours.

High Aperture.

2009-11-30T09:08:00.003-07:00

It's hard to believe tomorrow is December. Here, it feels like Wyoming on a cold summer day.

The King of Rue du Nord.

2009-11-28T16:27:00.000-07:00

Dogs rule the streets in Villesèque. I got a few shots before he granted me passage.

Saturday Afternoon Café & Market.

2009-11-28T01:39:00.001-07:00

Bustling Perpignan.
I love how the men all sit next to each other at the outside tables so they can people-watch. Oh yea: that's a castle in the background.

Black Friday At La Bərgerie.

2009-11-27T01:48:00.001-07:00

We ate Thanksgiving leftovers at La Bərgerie, an ancient stone house once used by sheep herders, in the mountains above Villesèque. My Jackson friends would love this place. It, and much of the land in the mountains around Villesèque, is protected by the French government. Therefore, if someone is willing, they may live in La Bərgerie, but they may not modify it. Today it is a crumbling, stone-walled structure with a big fireplace, a dining room with a long, uneven wooden table, a tiny sitting area, a lofted bedroom, and loads of character. Nepalese prayer flags hang over the door, homemade artwork is propped across the mantle, and political messages and random doo-dads from faraway places hang on the walls. There is no running water or electricity. About 15 of us ate dinner by candlelight as the inhabitant showed a slideshow from his recent paragliding/mountain biking expedition in Nepal.My social life is, umm, more tranquille here than in Jackson, so I was excited to go to a dinner party at La Bərgerie. In the past few weeks I'd noticed life up there: smoke from fires, cars winding up toward the plateau and disappearing into the brush, and even occasional music thumping. Last Sunday someone was really getting down up there. I felt bass vibrating across our very quiet valley. I got curious real fast and walked from Villesèque toward the mountains, following the vibration. At the bottom of a narrow gravel road, I took note of a random blouse set up like a scarecrow pointing in the direction of bonfire smoke. I promised myself I would go up there...eventually. Getting invited to a dinner party made it easy.

I've yet to see La Bərgerie in the daylight, but this UTube video shows the "playground" in the backyard. I'm guessing this part has been slightly modified.

A French Thanksgiving.

2009-11-26T03:13:00.001-07:00

Thanksgiving in France seems like the ultimate oxy-moron, does it not? Keep in mind I am working for an American school. Still, I was pleasantly surprised by how many French people--mostly friends of the directors and staff--showed up to celebrate our American holiday. We had about 70 people for dinner. Many of the students' parents came to visit and made traditional dishes. What did my roommate and I contribute? Nothing less than a dinde itself. As the French would say, oh la la, attention!We were clueless. The sides were touching, the top was almost touching...isn't that a fire hazard? I tried to ask the French chef if this mattered. She gave me the usual eye-roll and grunted, in her thick accent, "duu not ask me!!" Mmmkay. On second thought, we'll just Google it.

Megan and I realized yesterday that there must have been small print in our contracts that said: "Employee will do anything deemed necessary by the school, including cook turkeys for 70 people that have traveled thousands of miles and will not tolerate getting food poisoning during their vacation in Europe." Alors, it turned out fine. My first turkey is behind me.We put on a slideshow before dinner. That, too, went really well. There are some truly talented photogs in this group of students....not unlike Thanksgiving at home: various pies and bottles of wine.

The Calm Before The Storm.

2009-11-25T02:35:00.000-07:00

I felt very much at home here on Wednesday and Thursday, running around setting up for a huge party. I've spent a significant part of my life waiting tables and catering weddings; the only difference here was the language barrier. Before Wednesday, I could not for the life of me remember the translation for turkey. I just kept saying l'oiseau (the bird). By now I have heard la dinde (the turkey) so many times that I will never forget it. We had five dindes.

Night Night.

2009-11-24T13:27:00.002-07:00

The Elixir of Long Life.

2009-11-23T13:37:00.011-07:00

I had my first experiences with the French dish tartiflette and the famous Chartreuse, both in one night. YUM and YUCK. Tartiflette is a traditional dish from the French Alps. Romain, being both a chef and from the mountain town of Grenoble, whipped it up for Marie and me. It's like a tart/pot pie with potatoes, bacon, and Reblochon cheese. Apparently this is the ultimate après ski-tour dinner. We will have to put it to the test in Chamonix in December.

Green Chartreuse, the "elixir of long life," took me back to my baby days of gagging on paregoric. It contains over a hundred different herbs, flowers, and secret ingredients, and it tastes like burning, minty alcohol. But it is a 400-year-old potion produced by monks in the Alps near Grenoble, known for its medicinal powers for digestion (and for really enjoying a party). I had to try it.

This is how it works: you set a sugar cube in a dish of Chartreuse, let it soak, then pop the cube in your mouth and chew. And swallow. It gives me the willies to think about it.

Smiling like a fool.

Gagging.
My friends found this very amusing...worth documenting.

It made my cheeks feel tingly.

Day Off In Fonjoncouse.

2009-11-22T13:35:00.000-07:00

Et après, at the bar in Durban des Corbières.

La Radio.

2009-11-21T15:50:00.001-07:00

I blocked it out for the last month: the fact that there's a delicate bone graft sitting in my ankle, needing a final x-ray. I feared that familiar feeling of devastation: that kick in the gut, when the doctor rubs his chin, looks at the floor, and tells you you're going to have to start all over again...

It's been almost eight months since my accident in Yosemite. Eight months. Though there were moments when I felt like I would be on crutches for the rest of my life, I can still say that time flies.

I finally got that x-ray, la radio, this morning (most people work on Saturdays here. Who said the French don't work enough?). I then dragged one of my students onto the terrace to help me make photos of it. EWWW!! she shrieked. Hmm...oops. It didn't occur to me that it was gross. Eight months and about 30 x-rays ago, I might have felt the same way. I cannot remember.

I emailed jpegs to the wonderful Dr. Williams in Jackson today. I will try not to have too many sleepless nights awaiting his feedback.

Bleu.

2009-11-19T17:38:00.001-07:00

NamNamNam.

2009-11-19T13:32:00.000-07:00

It is taking forever for this tree to eat the sign.

Eat it already!

Hunting Cats, Zooming In.

2009-11-18T10:56:00.000-07:00

My zoom lens sat on my desk for a month and a half. I lent it to a student yesterday for her "Cats of Villesèque" photo project, once I realized that chasing cats around with a short lens was more like PE than photo class.

As we walked around together, cat-hunting and shooting, I realized that I missed zooming in. Alors, I went on a solo zooming mission today, which inevitably turned into cat hunting. They are everywhere, and some of them follow us around like dogs. Spaying and neutering is looked down upon in France. Here in Villesèque, it's all too obvious. Child brides abound.

**Alley, does this sound familiar? Reminiscent of The Cats of Greece? Or Honorable Cat? We all come full circle, we really do. I wonder if cats would follow me around in life if my name was not Cat.

Last [Candy] Man Standing.

2009-11-17T14:30:00.003-07:00

Meet the world's largest Gummy Bear. Mr. Bear equals 1400 regular-sized gummy bears and 12,600 calories, in case you're counting these days. He is currently having his thighs cut off in lieu of dessert. Eating him seems to require a team effort. Normally sugar disappears within seconds around here, but Mr. Bear is holding his ground quite well.

Living abroad is not just walking through vineyards and speaking French and eating brie cheese and taking photos; it is investigating the incoming care packages, which are often just as exciting as anything else.

I Spy.

2009-11-16T13:03:00.002-07:00

Two cats. Beers when I get back for whoever spots them first.

Teenage Wasteland.

2009-11-15T13:08:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I haven't posted a photo of the school before now.

The Emerald Isle.

2009-11-14T04:23:00.003-07:00

Everything you've heard is true. They wear green, hang out for hours in pubs, say "cheers" instead of thanks, have light eyes and fair skin and strawberry hair and big hearty laughs, and their land is a breathtaking spread of bright green mountains and cliff-lined coasts. I love this country, I love its people, and I want to go back.

As far as photos...where do I begin? I was shooting constantly. No wonder the landscape is known for inspiring some of history's greatest poets and artists. Here are a handful of images.

Day One: Dublin - Wicklow Mountains - Kilkenny.
Arriving in Dublin and getting our little Euro-car. First challenge: driving on the left side of the road (driver's seat on the right side). Talk about a test in sensing space and direction. I kept drifting to the left on the highway because I felt like I should be sitting in the seat on the left side of the lane. And when I went to park the first day, Megan instinctively reached toward the gear shift and moved her feet like they were on pedals, feeling all out of sorts just riding along in the left seat. We had a few...several...heart-stopping moments in the car. Especially because the roundabouts there go in the opposite direction.
This is just one of the hundreds of gorgeous, old buildings in Dublin.

We got lucky with three somewhat-sunny days in Ireland. It's far enough north that the sun never sits directly overhead in the wintertime, and the directional light makes everything so beautiful it doesn't seem fair that people actually live there.

Day Two: Kilkenny - Waterford - Blarney - Bantry Bay.Irish breakfast in Kilkenny. FYI: bacon is not bacon in Ireland; it is a slab of fatty ham. At least the Irish DO drink big cups of coffee, unlike France and Spain where an Americana or "large cafe" is a small cup of slightly-watered-down espresso. Waterford, the oldest city in Ireland. This is how I imagine Copenhagen.
Kissing the Blarney Stone at the Blarney Castle. The stone, a bluestone set into the side of this castle in 1446, is supposed to endow its visitors with "the gift of gab" and lifelong luck in love. We shall see about that.

I am baffled by the castles: tiny, steep stairways, ledges and windows looking down at hundred-foot falls, and secret dwarf rooms tucked into all the little nooks. I tried to imagine the Blarney Castle without the gates and signs and manicured lawns, filled with people actually living there hundreds of years ago. It's hard to believe.
View from the Family Room of the Blarney Castle.

Day Three: Bay of Bantry - Kilarney National Forest - Kilarney - Dingle Peninsula.Good morning, with a slight hangover, in Bantry Bay. The sleepy town of Bantry marked our first experience in a true Irish pub. The lack of tourists in November left us fending for ourselves among the locals. We quickly discovered that in Ireland, when people meet you and enjoy talking to you, they buy you a round of beers. And another. And then a round of Bailey's. Never go out in Ireland thinking you'll have one quick drink unless you plan on sitting silently in a dark corner.
Ireland has the most confusing street signs I've ever encountered. The arrows inevitably point toward nothing, or toward the sky, or in two directions at once. We made countless terrifying U-turns, each time trying to figure out if we were still on the right (left) side of the road. By day two, I accepted the fact that when driving felt right, it was wrong.Kilarney National Forest, just outside the quaint mountain town of Kilarney.Rolling, green hillsides and mountains between Kilarney and Dingle. I want to go back and frolic through these fields.Inch Beach on the Dingle Peninsula, complete with surfers and a pink sunset and mountains towering in the distance. This might be one of the most scenic beaches on earth.

Day Four: Dingle - O'Connor Pass - LahinchDriving the scenic, narrow, cliff-lined O'Connor Pass road in the rain.Blackberries on the coast of the Dingle Peninsula. I could get lost and never find my way home from this peninsula. The interior has big, rocky mountains, and the coast has a laid-back surfer-town vibe.

Day Five: Lahinch - Cliffs of Moher - The Burren - Ballyvaughan - Galway - DublinThe Cliffs of Moher crash 400 feet straight down into the Atlantic Ocean on the West coast of Ireland. Climbing up the hillside to see the cliffs felt like stepping off the Jackson Hole Tram on a blow-down day. The wind was so strong I could lean right into it, and the rain blew into my face so hard that my cheeks are still rosy.
The Burren, a "karst" landscape on the West coast, is known for its mysterious caves, ancient tombs, Celtic crosses, and ring forts. The ground is covered with a bizarre natural pavement of limestone; climbers and cavers flock to The Burren. I could sit and stare at this landscape for hours. It was so interesting to me.
A cairn in the middle of The Burren.
A castle somewhere on the West coast in Clare County.
Galway: this was the last (and one of the best) stops. Galway is the "cultural capital" of Ireland. Its pedestrian streets are so lively, filled with music and pubs and bustling coffee shops. We stopped here for coffee before making the three-hour trek across the interior back to Dublin on Thursday night. Like the pubs, the coffee shops can suck you in for hours. The locals like to talk. I love them.

Day Six: Back In Francia.We were sad to leave Ireland. It felt like home, with friendly people, no language barrier, and a slower pace of life. We almost missed our flight due to road construction in Dublin (I sprinted through the airport with my big backpack on, almost limp-free!). I think subconsciously we were trying to miss it. One of you will have to give me an excuse to go back soon.

Since we landed in France, I've done nothing but hang out at the train station in Narbonne, waiting either for my ride or for students that need a ride. It's back to "Bonjour" and driving a manual among crazy French drivers in zippy roundabouts...almost as much of a rush as driving on the left side of the road.

This Week's Posts Coming Soon.

2009-11-06T16:27:00.002-07:00

We are leaving for Ireland. Check back next weekend for some photos of pubs and rolling green hills and castles and the Blarney Stone!

How To Cure Olives.

2009-11-06T11:36:00.005-07:00

I love picking and preparing fruits and veggies. Laugh it up. I can just hear those of you who know what a dunce I am in the kitchen. I was reprimanded the other day for messing up frozen croissants (at least now I can come back to the U.S. and brag that I know how to make crêpes). But really, it is so rewarding to go out and pick a week's worth of grapes or figs.

Right now the olives are going off. You can stand next to a single tree and pick for an hour. Unlike figs, you can't eat while you pick: these things taste as bad as the poisonous bitter almonds that also thrive here. So, you have to gather a little bundle of olives, take them home, and soak them in salt water for 4-5 days. Each day you drain out the old water and re-immerse in a fresh batch of salt and water.

It is day three. Zina, our little Tunisian housekeeper who taught me how to cure them, had the guts to taste one today. "Aye! La merde (sh*t)!" she screamed. They need a few more days.

Crêpe/Dance Party.

2009-11-05T05:39:00.001-07:00

Scooping out my first crêpe.
Breaking to dance. Break dancing. Dance-breaking.
Serving it up: a perfectly hole-y crêpe. I liked to think my crêpes were artsy looking. I think some others liked to think they just looked American. Sigh.

And Another.

2009-11-04T03:55:00.000-07:00

Outfit, that is.

Clouds and Vineyards and Blue Skies and Zebra Pants.

2009-11-03T03:06:00.003-07:00

Another day, another outfit. I love it.

This Way: Villesèque des Corbières.

2009-11-02T15:38:00.001-07:00

With Weather.

2009-11-01T15:00:00.002-07:00

My ankle hurts again. It's going to rain.

Scary Night.

2009-10-31T02:02:00.000-06:00

Vingrau: Where I'd Write My Fairy Tale.

2009-10-30T11:34:00.009-06:00

Today warrants a longer post. Aside from the fact that I drew the short straw and didn't get a ticket to the huge rugby game tonight, I wouldn't change a thing.

Moi, Marie, Roman, and Marie's little brother, François, went climbing. (Mom, I know what you're thinking: does every "it was a great day" have to be preceded by "we went climbing!"?) Just the drive to get there was memorable. We left Villesèque, passed through the lowlands of Corbières, and wound up a narrow road into the mountains. The vineyards sat below us, squares of red and orange and yellow, and smoke rose above us. People are now burning the dead wood and leaves from this year's harvest.

I thought we would turn onto one of the gnarly dirt roads to the left and bounce our way down to a little cliff with a few decent routes. Instead, we came up on an enormous plateau and in front of us stood a massive, three-tiered spread of limestone cliffs, dotted green with shrubs and ledges, stretching for miles in both directions. My jaw dropped. Whhhhat? It's not in the backyard or anything, but it's less than an hour from Villesèque.

These cliffs and the town below are called "Vingrau." I kept pronouncing it "Van Gogh." Non! Lots of climbers live in the town, and it is completely surrounded by cliffs, rivers, vineyards, ruins, and all things fairy tale-esque. The town itself has funky little restaurants and cafés, typical old European apartments, narrow streets, and lots of granola types just living the dream. It's too far into the mountains for tourists, and since I'm not writing for Outside, hopefully it will stay that way.

The climbing was excellent: long routes on slightly-polished limestone. Tiny feet, tiny crimpers...très bon. Roman and I got lost in translation again today. Marie got down from a climb and threw her climbing shoes into the bushes because her feet hurt. I nodded my head and told Roman that, yes, my big toe was sick too. François smirked and Roman belly-laughed and farted. Several times. He informed me that at the dinner table, this is "impoli" (impolite). But in nature, pas du tout, c'est naturel. At least the humor does not get lost.

*Deehan, if you're reading, I couldn't help but think of Al Natural from the City of Rocks.
Smoke over the vineyards.
Driving past the first cliffs of Vingrau this morning.
Just fartin' around at the "Azine Wall."
Castles really do exist. I wanna go in there.
Where we'll climb next time.

A L'Automne.

2009-10-29T15:23:00.003-06:00

Getting ready for Halloween. The Frenchies aren't big on dressing up, so we're throwing our own party. Last year Ashley Pafford came to my rescue with a Rainbow Bright costume. This year...who knows? Tune in Saturday to find out.

Corbières.

2009-10-27T17:21:00.002-06:00

The vin is as good as the view. Villeseque lies in the foothills of the Pyrenees, a short drive from the coast of the Mediterranean and the border of Spain.

I Teach.

2009-10-27T15:43:00.002-06:00

Shooting.Editing. I heart Apple.

The light here...it could not be better, especially with the change of seasons. The buildings and landscape are truly inspiring for any artist. Not to mention the "cat house" (top photo), with cats lounging around on the perfectly old, rustic stairs next to the crumbling building. These little scenes are everywhere.

At Play on the Plateau.

2009-10-26T12:55:00.009-06:00

Villeseque is small. We do what we can.

Actually, there are miles—no, scratch that—kilometers of exploring to do on this huge plateau above the village. You can bike or walk to the top from Villeseque and see the Mediterranean on the other side. There's a maze of dirt roads and endless little footpaths marked with cairns. The area directly above Villeseque has 20-30 of these monstrous wind turbines. Underneath them it sounds, all the time, like a small plane is flying over. Aside from the turbines there are ancient vineyards (who the heck is up there tending to them?), crumbling rock walls, and limestone slabs jutting out of the ground. The plateau is weird, peaceful, beautiful, eerie, and interesting all at once.

SiCk.

2009-10-25T11:08:00.004-06:00

Museums + teenagers = desperation for stimulation. He didn't stick it. But another guy did. SICK.

The beautiful, quaint mountain town of Céret, France.

Cwrazz-ee.

2009-10-23T16:12:00.000-06:00

Today marks exactly one month since I arrived. I have some French friends to show for it! Voila Marie & Roman. They are a fun couple and they live a hop, skip, and a jump away from our house. Marie works for the school as the activities and PE coordinator. Roman is a chef. Both are climbers as well as my unofficial French teachers. I told Roman on Thursday, in what I thought was perfect French, that I wished more people in gym shorts spoke English. He pondered this for a minute with a confused look. I meant I wished some people at the climbing gym could speak English. Oops. This happens a lot. Stupid American. Roman's favorite phrase seems to be "Ca-zzrine, yoo are ver-wy cwrazz-ee."
And the lay of the land: the village, surrounding vineyards, and the limestone cliffs at sunset. This vineyard in the foreground was green last week. Fall is here; the colors are gorgeous.

La Cheville Marche. (The Ankle Works.)

2009-10-22T17:57:00.001-06:00

Healing up nicely.

Taking me places.
Hiking again.

I will get my last x-ray next week in Narbonne. Everyone cross your fingers for clean healing and all screws, plates, pins, and bone graft in tact. The rain and low pressure this week brought a lot of pain, but I am walking a lot and...drum roll...ran a few yards last week.

Thank You To Whoever Wrote This In English.

2009-10-22T14:39:00.006-06:00

"No Stress" on the gas station checkout window in Perpignan.

These Are, Like, So Dope.

2009-10-21T14:46:00.003-06:00

I am not just a teacher here but a student. I am getting schooled in teen lingo and high fashion.

I bet you are looking at these shoes and imagining the rest of the picture showing a little red dress and a stylish Euro scarf. No, my friends, that is not how it works. One of my fabulous students sported these shoes today with tight, ripped blue jeans rolled up. Girlie boxers hung out the top of the low-as-you-could-possibly-go waist, and on top she wore an elaborately-layered combo of hoodie, tight t-shirt thing, and another something-or-other. And accessories? Let's just say there was not room for anything else to be put on the ears, around the neck, or on the wrists. Or in the nose crease. You go girl.

In Perpignan on Monday I tried (Mom, I swear, I really did) to find some more stylish clothes so that I do not look like the lone mountain woman in Southern France. I simply could not do it. I cannot put these outfits together, I cannot spend the money on them...there is some feminina neuron that does not fire in my brain and therefore I hate to shop. I must make the students dress me; this is getting desperate.

Bling.

2009-10-20T12:33:00.004-06:00

Seriously? Apparently, this is cool. Apparently smoking is cool again too, not only in Europe (I haven't met a single Euro that doesn't smoke at least occasionally) but among American teenagers. The teenagers I get: they don't give a you-know-what, and if you care it only fuels their fire. But the Euros as a whole? They know everything that we know...so what gives?

Perpignan & Back on the (Plastic) Rock.

2009-10-19T15:00:00.004-06:00

Today in Perpignan, about an hour from Villeseque.

This was just hours before my first experience in a French climbing gym. I would have taken photos, but it was not the view that was different; it was the attitude. There were no belay or lead-belay tests, no waivers to sign, and as far as I could tell, no Euros to pay (is it because I'm a lady or because my French is so bad that they gave up on telling me how to pay?).

Sidenote: For those who saw me on crutches for four months this summer, you know that this was big--HUGE. I went climbing again; I felt, in many ways, like myself again; and I was reminded that I should never take a functioning ankle, a solid foothold, or properly-placed protection for granted ever again.

You think learning French is hard? Try learning French climbing lingo. Just like in English, it is a whole other language. And no, the French do not climb in hot pink spandex or multi-colored hammer pants. But it'd be way cooler if they did.

Let's Start from the Beginning.

2009-10-19T04:45:00.000-06:00

I've only just decided to do a photo a day for the folks at home. It starts today, October 19, which is exactly two months from my end date here in Villeseque des Corbieres, France.

I'll post some past photos with the dates they were taken, but from today on, there will be a current photo every day.

Look, leave comments, leave criticism, and hopefully enjoy.

Ciao,
Ca-trine (as my French friends call me)

Turning Slightly Golden.

2009-10-17T16:25:00.000-06:00

Les Punks.

2009-10-17T15:57:00.001-06:00

Taking over Barcelona, one teenager at a time.

A Lesson in Blur.

2009-10-15T16:00:00.000-06:00

Rosé.

2009-10-15T15:46:00.000-06:00

It was cold and windy and I felt like drinking Rosé on the terrace.

The School In Blur.

2009-10-14T16:29:00.000-06:00

Quaint, old, and elegant on the outside. Full of wild teenagers on the inside.