After coming home from Rainier, we decided to go out on the Timberline Trail (#600). The Timberline circumnavigates Mt. Hood in a 38 mile loop. As always, when we go to Mt. Hood we try to get up to Yocum Ridge. This side trail turned it into a 48 mile loop by adding the extra 10 miles, out and back. The entire trip took us 5 days (4 full days and 2 halves) and we averaged about 12 on our full days (yes, I promise it is mathematically possible if you count the epic encounter). More than anything, we wanted to see just how far The Barracuda could hike over some difficult terrain.

More and more, our son's appreciation of mountains is becoming apparent. He now knows the order of the Northern and Central Cascades and can identify most by silhouette. He is becoming transfixed with mountains.

Day 1 - Timberline Lodge to Paradise - 4 miles

We had no less than 4 separate tourists take our picture. Apparently there is something very interesting about a dog with a backpack and a family all geared up.

Since we got out later than expected (doesn't that ALWAYS happen?) we didn't arrive and get walking till about 3 in the afternoon or later. We hit the trail, hiked for an hour and a half or so, ate, and hiked another mile to begin looking for a decent campsite. We have begun experimenting with ways to make more milage in the day. By eating and then putting in a few more miles before the end of the day we can add 4 or 5 miles to the day without much issue and stealth camp without the need of food prep. We can't quite tell if we like this yet.

Day 2 - Paradise Park to Yocum Ridge - 11 miles

The Timberline crosses a good 3-5 rivers a day as you work through the gullies and melt waters of the mountain. The Barracuda is becoming quite good with Leki poles and can ford most rivers now by himself with the occasional help of hand through some extreme leaps. Guadalupe, however, HATES water and must be manhandled carried over most rivers. She finds this most undignifying!

Yocum Ridge is one of our favorite places on Mt. Hood. It was discovered by Jules when he did his first hike of the Timberline Trail a year or so before I met him. The 10 mile (total out and back) side trail is a brutal uphill of almost continuous switchbacks, but you are rewarded with a personal alpine meadow and an awe inspiring view.

Day 3 - Yocum Ridge to Carin Basin - 14 miles

Muddy Fork runs through Cathedral Ridge. Before the first snow, we will hopefully take a weekend trip up to the actual ridge line instead of the valley.

We were up and out of camp by 7 and pounding miles. Today brought us past Cathedral Ridge and a new place to explore. Though there is a fondness within us for Yocum, Cathedral's towering rock formations and three beautiful waterfalls surround you from all sides. It has a very different feel from Yocum's expansiveness.

Every real backpacking trip has a moment where you think, "This is completely insane!" It is a commitment moment where you have to decide once and for all, are you in? This river crossing would be it for the Timberline trail. As I watched my son slowly wiggle across three haphazardly strewn (and seemingly flimsy) logs, slip twice due to there being no bark on the logs and a gushing torrent of rocky rapids beneath him, and then reach out trying to grab his father's outstretched hand, I couldn't help but have a moment of "What the hell are we doing?!" To make matters worse, the logs were not tied together so as The Barracuda began walking they shifted to and fro beneath his weight.

Day 4 - Carin Basin to Cloud Cap - 14 miles

The dog was horrified; The Barracuda thought it was beyond awesome!
Click on the link below to see the washout in real time via YouTube.

This was an epic day. All went well until we hit the washout at Elliot Glacier. Everyone on the mountain we met was talking about Elliot: "How are you going to get around Elliot?" "Why aren't they fixing Elliot?" "Aren't they supposed to have a bridge over Elliot by now?" There are stacks of pictures and talk on the Internet about Elliot. Everyone just needs to get over it! In the floods of 2006, the winter here was brutal and Elliot Glacier took out the entire trail. It literally drops off in a sheer vertical down to the river. The vertical is over 150 feet high and requires a cross country (not skis, but unmaintained) backtrail and then a technical scramble down an arete, and then getting to a rope to back down to the water. Once down, we forded the river three or four times, crossed the talus and scree for a good 2 hours, and then tied both Guadalupe and The Barracuda up for the vertical climb (no rope provide this time) up the other side. It was exhausting and got us no closer to Cloud Cap. After some bushwacking and route finding, we discovered an old fire road (thank goodness for the Cloud Cap fire a couple years ago). Another unmaintained vertical climb up a fire slope with only water bars to hold the soil in and a quarter mile walk following the smell of campfires took us to a road. We must have looked like Sasquatch scrambling up to the road from the forest. The road lead to Cloud Cap Campground. Needless to say, taking the dog down and then up scree, talus, and places where she was tied together with climbing webbing wasn't Guadie's favorite activity. Her paws were split open by the end and she was drooling uncontrollably, but she followed through in Stickeen fashion and has now permanently won Jules' love. The Barracuda began to go into sugar shock from lack of solid food (he is extremely blood sugar sensitive) about half way through, but pulled it together enough to make it to camp. There were some sketchy moments and I'm sure we looked horrifying when we stumblied into Cloud Cap by nightfall.

Day 5 - Cloud Cap to White River (10 miles)

Walking around the mountain gives the peak a highly personal experience because you get to see it from every angle. Rather than a veiwpoint and only one side, you see them all and you witness them change from one to another. Though I have grown up watching Mt. Hood, I feel like I didn't really know much about it at all now having walked around it.

Being homeschoolers, the lines of education versus life become very blurry. These learning moments are one of the things we enjoy so much about the homeschooling process and a large part of why we take our son hiking so much at such a young age. There have been many amazing learning moments over the last couple years, but one of the greatest happened going from Cloud Cap through Cooper's Spur. From up that high you can see one of the largest expanses in Oregon, but most interestingly, you can physically watch the rain shadow effect and the tectonic plate line come together. The hilly, green expanse in front of you becomes a ridge and then a flat, brown space on the other side. The mountains of Rainier, St. Helens, Adams, Hood, Jefferson, and the Three Sisters all line up and directly before you the puzzle pieces of the Earth's crust become real. The Barracuda has studied volcanoes, subduction zones, the Ring of Fire, and all that jazz but here he could literally see in front of him how it all worked. I realize I'm a total science geek, but it was pretty rad.

Day 6 - Mitchel Creek to Timberline (3 miles)

The ridgelines of Mt. Hood are one of the predominant features of the Timberline Trail.. There is a combined elevation loss/gain of over 12,000 feet on the Timberline Trail (not including Yocum Ridge) so you are rather constantly either going up or down.

We slept in, woke up low key and were moving by 8. We had been warned by another hiker that it had been washed out to the point she was turning around. The thought of another Elliot Glacier crossing wasn't pleasant, but all that was keeping us from Timberline and we were committed. We hiked down to White River to view the damage, and sure enough, total wash out. Notes were posted of other groups heading back. Much like Elliot, we headed down to a nearby arete and were determined to make our way down. Surprisingly, we caught the trail on lower switchbacks. Apparently all that was washed out was the upper portion of the trail. Less than a 5 minute bushwhack and we were back on track. It was a very quick out, even with Timberline teasing us in the distance while we cairn hopped, hiking uphill through glacial silt. A stop by the gift shop to pick up a patch for The Barracuda and we were driving away to Dairy Queen before 11 o'clock.

It was a great trip and a significant victory for The Barracuda. He can check the first item off of his Life List and solidified his confidence about pulling larger mileage in succession. We knew he could do it, but he needed to know.

When we came home, we were suprised to find out that The Barracuda is the youngest person to have ever finished this hike. Apparently a 7 an a 9 year old boy finished the trip with their family a couple years ago, and had claimed the record until now. Our son doesn't much care about that, all he really wanted was a Blizzard ice cream treat.

Ugh! End of July and most of August have been rather full. We went on 3 backpacking trips and 3 more are in the works by the end of September. We set in at least 5 cords of wood and 5 more are on the way within the next 10 days. We made a major direction change in the outlook for next year and we finally (FINALLY!) got everything moved from one house, to the shack, and reasonably (sorta) put away.

But first things first. Let's get to the Wonderland Trail.

The Summary:
We left for the Wonderland with rather steep expectations of what we were going to see. We weren't let down. It was very intense and by day 5 we realized there was just no way we were going to make it all the way around. When we left, no one had successfully completed the trail this year. Some areas are still 80 percent snow covered. They do not expect the snow to melt off this year at all and the glaciers to rebuild significantly (who knew that could happen in the age of Global Warming!?!)

In many places the problem became that unless you had 1:24 topographical maps, you couldn't see anything due to how deep the snow was and how thick the coverage. Even with very close topos the density of the snow made all the terrain the exact same height. Were you on a lake? Were you on a river? Were you in a meadow? Were you in thin air (that was a scary one a few times)?

The sign posts for campgrounds are deliberately placed fairly high in Rainier so that they can stick out of snow, but even at close to 5 feet off the ground the rangers had to dig them out. This was our first campsite and our lowest elevation.

The lack of compass workability meant you had to rely solely on your GPS. That alone makes Jules and I a bit nervous, but it becomes even more problematic when you know it is actively telling you to go the wrong way. When the arrow begins bouncing due to tree cover or mountain passes and ever step or so you take you are redirected, that is a bad sign. Rangers were advising people to turn the GPS units off and then on again about 4 times when this would begin to happen because it was such a frequent occurrence.

You see that river there? That isn't a river. Nope, not a lake either. In fact that isn't even a body of water. That's an alpine meadow which is melting off. Even better, the melt around this meadow was so awkwardly distributed that you never quite knew of you were on solid ground.

So we surrendered the fantasy of finishing the trail and decided to just enjoy being in one of the most beautiful National Parks in our nation. It became much more about workability of us as a family backpacking in extreme terrain and less about any direct goal.

SNOW!
Snow has become increasingly less about snowmen and snowballs with The Barracuda. It is now far more about summitting mountains, ice axe skills, and mountaineering. He is not allowed to wear crampons yet due to how dangerous they are (he has to be 9), but we spent a lot of time actively working on his snow skills. He can accurately glissade, kick steps, and we are looking into getting him his own ice axe. He still needs to work on his self arrest so that the flip turn becomes automatic, but he is quickly on his way to some serious mountaineer skills. We were very proud of him.
This ice axe is my Black Diamond, and though it is light enough for The Barracuda, it is still far too long. Finding something under 24 inches is proving difficult. We have already begun trying to find children's crampons we can have front spikes welded onto foreseeing future problems.
Glaciers
Glacial Education is full frontal on Rainier. Being the most glaciated peak in the continental United States, the park not only has direct views of glaciers everywhere you look, but it has places were the soils is still trying to rebuild after hundreds of years. As homeschoolers, discussing the magnitude of how ice can carve the land by seeing less than half an inch of soil rebuilding over an estimated 500 years is pretty dramatic. "Stay on the Trail" took on whole new meaning.
Just incase you somehow didn't pick up on that from the glacial meadow, the GIANT sign talking all about it, the huge warning placards, or any of that other stuff.

Primordial Forest
Forest primordial oozes from The Wonderland Trail. I've never seen Cedar trees that big. The impact was even greater than the trees in Sequoia because these trees had been left alone. The park has been 97 percent designated wilderness since its conception in 1917 and it shows wherever you walk. From the expansive meadows which fill with lakes and are rimmed with mountains, to the mist which hangs in undisturbed (messy) forests, the only thing which is maintained is the trail.

One of the most important things we wish our son to understand is that he has the power to either appreciate these spaces or to destroy them. Love them while they are here, respect them as temples, and fight with every bit of your power as a citizen to keep them. Someone did that for you and you need to do that for others.

Route Finding
So much of route finding requires you to stop thinking and listen to your guts. An intuitive trail sense is all you can go with. How does it wind? Where would it go? How would the builders have handled here? Once we hit snow line, we could only walk about a quarter of a mile till we lost trail. Then it was packs off, scout around, call when you found something. Even following footprints wouldn't work unless they had been made by the Rangers within the last 3 hours. The Barracuda got very good at recognizing water bars, cut logs, the bend of the trail in the snow, the difference between a snow covered river and the snow covered trail. He lead us the entire way back out solely so that he could begin to feel the way the trail moved.

Route finding is exhausting. You can never find a stride or a pace and making miles just doesn't happen. However, it is incredible at working on observational skills and perseverance! The Barracuda's spirits were high the entire time. He was down right excited...the kid is twisted.

Adventure
There were several times over the course of our hike that we flat out didn't know where we were, didn't know where we were going, and really couldn't tell you too much about where exactly we had been. Lots of "I-kinda-think" moments. I kinda think we should head this way. I kinda think that looks like this spot on the map. I kinda think this is completely insane. However, it made for a whole lotta fun. As one of the Search and Rescue climbers said with great enthusiasm, "We've never seen the park this way. We may not again. Don't be a fear monger; enjoy it!"

The snow bridge held for all of us, but you were a bit nauseous trying it mid-day. The glacial melt was running swiftly underneath and there were quite a few large rocks which looked far too happy to crush your head open. This hike really solidified the concept to The Barracuda that backpacking can be fun, but it is serious business that can get you killed. Don't trifle with it.


The Life List
One of the big things we do around our house is to make lists. We set lots of goals, write lots of systematic lists, and leave scrolled bits of paper laying around with various scribblings about plans. It isn't something we directly involve The Barracuda in unless it has to do with him in some way (such as school or chores), but he is rather saturated in it nonetheless. It was only a matter of time before he jumped on the bandwagon with a few lists of his own. On our Wonderland Trip, he decided he wanted to start his Life List. Not the average 6 year old, his goals are a bit larger than we expected. The ones he came up with while we were hiking:

Circumnavigate all the Northern and Central Cascades
Summit all the Central and Northern Cascades
Thru Hike the Pacific Crest Trail and the Appalachian Trail
Summit a 14er (yes, he knows this term) before he is 12


As the list began to be propagated Jules and I would glance down at him over our glasses. "Really?" we would ask. The answer was always a very confident yes. "Well alright then," we would reply. The boy is determined; who are we to stop him?

Warming up in the White River campground after climbing around a bit. Not everywhere was covered with snow. We converted our backpacks to day packs and spent a nice chunk of time just exploring the park. Afterall, there was an entire 5 gallon bucket full of our food drop to eat through.

The boy got to do his Tirolean traverse, Jules got to return to Rainer (he summitted it a few years ago), and I got to see quite a bit of one beautiful mountain. We had planned on trying to return to the Wonderland in late August, but our dog-sitters fell through and no dogs are allowed in the National Park.

The Barracuda and Jules staring up at Gibralter Rock and the summit. The native people called the mountain Tahoma which meant "The Mountain that Is God." Standing beneath her you can definitely feel why.
With the circumnavigation still on The Barracuda's Life List, however, we couldn't just walk away. In late September The Barracuda and I are going up again for Wonderland Take 2. There will be bugs, there might be rain, but at least this time there won't be 11 feet of snow.

We are off! We just picked up my brother, who has decided to come with us. I should be back by the 2nd of August with quite an amazing array of pictures. I'm hoping just over a 1000 should do us. If not, I'm far too impulsive to be trusted with the camera.

We are checking in today to hold our reservation, spending the night, and leaving before dawn tomorrow. Jules is wistfully imagining heaps of snow, cutting steps, and Tyrolean Traverses. I'm hoping for some pretty amazing skies, a few awesome pictures, and quite the memorable event for The Barracuda. The Barracuda really wants to find a way to zipline over a ragging river crossing, get a new patch for his backpack, and to tell Grampie and Grammie all about it. Either way, let's just not die.

Here's hoping for some awesomeness!

Our Wonderland Trail adventure departs on Saturday - three days from now. We had to put in our reservations back in March and be locked into our route at that time. You are not allowed to backcountry camp, and they are rather strict about headcounts. Much thought went into this process, lots of reading, a little bit of gambling here and there with mileage, but in the end a challenging but highly doable trip. Oh, it is just so cute how we thought we could control all the variables of nature.

Fast forward a couple months to tonight. Currently, it is just past 1:30 in the morning and Jules and I are still up scouring the Internet and pining over maps. You see, in a normal year the mid to end of July has only about 30 percent snow coverage on the higher peaks. This is not a normal year. The 30 percent snow coverage or less areas are far fewer than the 65 to 100% snow coverage areas. That means some places are under 9+ feet of snow. The mountain isn't projected to melt off until sometime in mid August or later.

This is what it looks like about 25 minutes from our house where we have been teaching The Barracuda to kick steps. At points on The Wonderland we are at over 8000 feet....

We are having to skim pounds where we can to add ice axes, webbing, the GPS, and a snow shovel. The Barracuda's harness is being added so we can rope up when necessary (extreme exposure and feet of snow can make Mommy a bit nervous) and belay him through a couple of rather gnarley looking river crossings (which make Dad nervous). The MSR Whisperlite is being switched out for MSR XGK. This means a higher fuel consideration, but that sucker is like a blow torch and can melt snow for water if needed without skipping a beat. Sneakers have been upgraded to boots and the seam grip is coming out in force (Jules has gone through 2 tubes already on our boots and has us both higher than a kite.). We are going to have to upgrade maps to get one with UTM coordinates and a grid reader so we can check our route finding as many places of the trail are still at 100 percent snow coverage for miles at a time.

But we are still going. The Barracuda has shown extreme interest in route finding, GPS, and compass skills in off trail and low visibility situations (our son is a weirdo). Now he can learn first hand. He wants to be a Mazama and summit a 14; this can prepare him. More than anything, we can really meet the mountain on her terms. After all, what fun would circumnavigating a mountain be if you aren't momentarily terrified by the magnitude of what you have taken on or potentially scaring yourself into wetting you pants a few times?

Looks like there is going to be a lot of this!
Hoorah!
I'll take lots of pictures as long as the camera's battery can hold out. It tends to freeze up when temperatures hover in the teens too long, but if I carry it against my chest it tends to hang in there long enough.

So, what do we do without television? We open water sailing! These are 9 foot skiff boats designed for kids. In fact, I have no idea what is going on. I'm just the parent who stays on the shore.

Luckily, Erica is all over it because she has been racing for years. The Barracuda has developed a desire to begin competitive open water racing and we live in just the right place! Here these sorts of events start at age 5 and the National championships went on less than a month ago. He went out with a girl from his homeschool group (age 14) who is actively involved with the local Gorge Racing Association. Now, he's hooked.

Alright, this is very off topic, but after scanning much conflicting information on the Internet, I thought I'd throw it out there.

Does anyone know when or if the Forest Service turns off the water in Southern California, specifically as it pertains to the stops along the Pacific Crest Trail?

I have read November 1st. However, I have also read that people can take 5 months for a Southbound hike which does not mathematically add up to before November 1st.

Anyone with any info?

When we purchased our little fishing shack (called The Cabin) we had to realize a couple things: 1) It was old and rustic, 2)It was so far in the middle of nowhere that any work now or in the future would have to be done ourselves, and 3)We were basically forcing ourselves to become Luddites in many ways. The experience has been quite wonderful, but also a bit intense at times. Before reading this you many want to check out why we purchased The Cabin, as well as the first post about our building process.


The second weekend we didn't accomplish much. The Barracuda and I stayed in The Cabin most of the week and were able to finish off pulling down walls and prepping the space for insulation. By the time the weekend rolled around, Jules was able to come up, and word had gotten out about the new owners. We began to get visitors.

Visitors in the city were no big deal. People knock, pop in for a couple minutes, get business done and then have to go off to another hurried activity. After a week, Dae and I were already starting to recognize woods time. Woods time is much like island time - things move much, much slower. People drop by, and stay a while. Whenever you wake up, you wake up. Whenever something gets done, it gets done. You don't laze about, but you definitely don't hurry. In woods time, you enjoy your surroundings and let the chips fall as they may.

Many rope swings exist around the lake for both adults and children to enjoy. No one owns them; they just hang there daring any brave souls to try the terrifying exhilarating ride. Woods time is much like a Hallmark Movie of the Week.

Here, visitors will drop by and then want to talk. They will show up and then stand discussing. Sometimes they bring beer or wine and stay to have a little. Jules and I didn't know how to be socially appropriate and hint at needing to get back to work. We tried everything that worked in the city, no dice. By the time the third person popped in, we just decided to go with it. When in Rome, listen like Romans.

What did happen to get done, was the supply trip to Home Depot. As big box stores go, our family is not a major fan. However, when you have one giant purchase to make, they can simplify the process significantly. This was the case with Home Depot. We wanted to purchase all our materials (or dang near) in one go. With everything in one place we could then be free to work without the limitations of supply issues. It also meant that we wouldn't be spending extra dollars on both gas and impulse items (such as the drill holster that Jules felt was highly imperative but still sits unused).

The closest Home Depot was a mere 29 miles from our house. I know this because I remember every single mile...

We had saved up 2,000 dollars for repairs on the house and an extra 500 each month from expenses. We figured that was enough money to do a pretty good overhaul. After taking down the walls and living in the space for a week, we compiled a giant list and went off.

The Home Depot is located on the farthest possible edge of what could be called the closest town. It seems very out of place in the small strip mall which includes a Bi-Mart, a combination adult shop/truck stop, and a restaurant called "Spooky's" which seems to serve everything from pizza and hamburgers to Chinese and Italian.

It was a very long trip. The staff was very helpful. All four carts were very full. By the time we were through the will call booth and everything was established for us to drive it all home things were looking pretty good. Because we were only using our normal truck to haul everything, multiple trips were necessary. We grabbed a giant pile of insulation, the water heater, the paint, stacks of silicon caulking, and a bunch of miscellaneous electrical supplies and headed for the car. Jules is the master packer. He can get items into small spaces like a Tetris champion. Most of the bulk insulation order was jammed in, but still some small space remained. The giant bundle pack wouldn't fit, he reasoned, but a few of the individual rolls would. Out came the pocket knife, the plastic was slashed, and then we watched in complete horror as the bundle of insulation began to grow. It expanded, and expanded, and then continued to keep swelling. Once removed from pressure, it was easily three or four times the previous size. The couple of rolls didn't fit much better than the one bundle. No problem, the skies were clear, we were on woods time, we'd just make another trip. Two trips turned into three, no biggie.

The first two trips were no issue...but the third one was sure a doosie. By the time the first two loads were placed into the cabin, more neighbors had visited by kayak, and we were set to head out for a third, time was beginning to dwindle down. All of our purchase had to be picked up before closing time. Back we headed and the skies began to cloud over. We still were fairly secure in our last venture, after all the camper top was on the truck so nothing would get wet.

This is what we had hoped for. See all that blue sky, a nice breeze in the air, easily fitting underlayment with the other miscellaneous items stuffed beneath. Wasn't meant to be!

Then the underlayment wouldn't fit inside. It just wasn't going to work. We had to run inside and buy more rope since we hadn't brought enough. Rope was strung through the front windows, pinning The Barracuda and I into the car. Twine was then employed to help strap the large, lightweight boards onto the roof of the car. Tarps were pulled out from the hidden recesses of the truck and the last roll of insulation was covered and bound to the back tailgate and bumper. Everything was strapped down as much as possible as the raindrops began to sprinkle.

Over on this side of the Cascades, the precipitation is quite a bit less. We weren't exceptionally worried about some water. What we hadn't counted on were the thunder storms. When the warm side of the Cascades hits the cooler wet side, things get a bit interesting. We definitely hadn't figured in the wind. You know all that wind surfing and kite boarding people come from all over the U.S. to do? It is because of the extreme and unpredictable wind!

All it took was leaving the exit ramp for the first gust hit. It caught the underlayment like a giant sail and caused a startled look between Jules and I. The windows were quickly rolled down and any free hands were used to hold everything on top of the car as much as possible. It wasn't too long before The Barracuda was pulling on the ropes inside the car as extra weight trying to keep it all together. Images of crazed college activities flashed through my mind. We looked like some bizarre episode of the Beverly Hill Billies driving down the highway.

Twenty nine miles would have been long enough to hang out the window of a car moving down the highway clinging to items strapped on top, but with the pelting rain it felt much more like 40 miles. At about mile 10 my hands began to go a bit numb, my grip lessened a smidgen, Jules alternated hands on the steering wheel to try and warm up, and we began to laugh at the ridiculousness of our current activity. WHAM! we were hit with another sudden burst of wind. Full attention was regained as the underlayment rose a good 2 inches off the roof. We reluctantly slowed down to less than 45 miles an hour, hazards were put on, and we inched home.

This is our mountain. We live in her shadow, drink water from her glacial melt, and frequently play on her slopes. Every day she is a wonderful reminder of why we moved and what we love. It takes quite a bit to not give her welcoming nod on the way home.
By the time we got to the bridge crossing the Columbia, both Jules and I were soaked. We crossed the bridge and were far too numb/sore/cold to enjoy our mountain. Eventually we made it home with all our stuff intact. It wasn't until we unloaded that we found out all the twine had snapped in the wind. We were literally the only thing holding our conglomeration of crap onto the vehicle. Jules felt this was humorous and incredible. I'm still not quite there.

Clothes and supplies were set out to dry and we watched the store roll over from the porch. The arduous task of schlepping most all of our building materials was over. Now we just had to build a house.

When we purchased our little fishing shack (called The Cabin) we had to realize a couple things: 1) It was old and rustic, 2)It was so far in the middle of nowhere that any work now or in the future would have to be done ourselves, and 3)We were basically forcing ourselves to become Luddites in many ways. The experience has been quite wonderful, but also a bit intense at times.

Since we purchased The Cabin "as is," we got everything inside it and waved any inspections before purchase. We had been inside a few times previously, spoken to the owner and had him walk us through the house, but never had anyone formally crawl around in the rafters or underneath. This meant that not only did we not know exactly what we would find once we started, but it also gave us an interesting look into The Cabins previous inhabitants.

We inherited things like 8+ year old tubes of sunscreen, lots of dried up fishing bait, more disposable plastic dishes than I imagined one person could own, an old fold out cot, half secured (and sagging) shelving, 7 fishing poles of various size and effectiveness, a hot plate that didn't work, the oldest microwave I have ever seen, a stool which had half caught fire, a very industrial looking potato gun, and a whole slew of other stuff somewhere between abandoned and forgotten and neglected and abused.

The Master Suite. We had some very swanky living conditions for the first month or so! About 2 weeks in, Jules and I swapped out our Cats Meow bags to experiment with a Ray Jardine 2 person quilt and like it much more.

Most of the first weekend was spent gutting the place of everything that wasn't bolted down (and even a few things that were) so that we could adequately assess the growing money pit we had just purchased.

The plywood walls would need to come down so we could insulate. God only knew what was inside them! The horrible bead board wall would need to be replaced by something that wasn't falling off. The old chimney would need something, but we had no idea what. The trim was in need of a serious face lift. The deck would need to be converted into two separate bedrooms at some point in time. The kitchen and bathroom....well...they had ghetto bachelor pad written all over them. (Jules and I still sit up at night staring at them and wonder what we are going to do).

Have a look into our kitchen insanity! We later discovered that both the shelves and boards on behind me weren't ever secured but merely resting on a couple of bent nails. Needless to say, they came down.

(Click on the Picture to Enlarge)


With the vigor of new adventure upon us, the boys set to work pulling down trim and walls. The Barracuda is required to help us with building the house. If he is going to live in it, he has to help create it. Required is stretching it a bit. All one really has to say is, "Would you like to help _______?" and he is already front and center with a hammer.

Sticking your tongue out while focusing appears to be a genetic trait in our family. I still do it and, as you can see, so does my son. Luckily, Jules finds this endearing.

While they ripped things down, I went old school Cinderella on the floors. I don't think the place had been cleaned since the Reagan administration.

The floors are one of the things I fell in love with almost immediately. They are the original extra wide cedar plank flooring. The color is natural and they are unsealed. Years of use has made them smooth and dense.

The time was productive, but as the midden pile of stuff grew so did the future work. The water heater didn't appear to work, the kitchen faucet leaked, the outdoor patio didn't keep much dry, the single pane windows were barely holding on, and there was a good inch and a half of daylight showing under one corner of the door due to the floor sinking on one end of the house, much of the old electrical would need to be rewired and we were frequently amazed the entire place hadn't burned to the ground years ago. There was still no stove, no refrigerator, no heat, and no storage to put anything.

Before the Master Suite (show above) is rolled out, the fine dining tarp graces the floor. We feast on such delicacies as baked potato soup eaten from plastic SOLO plates the previous owners left.

The craziest part of all this was that we were really, honest to goodness happy. We were laughing and being silly together for the first time in quite a while. The dog was ecstatic outside, the boy was bouncy at learning to use dozens of various tools, both Jules and I were filled with wonder at all the wildlife and serenity around us.

As Thoreau wrote in Chapter 1 of Walden, It would be some advantage to live a primitive and frontier life, though in the midst of an outward civilization, if only to learn what are the gross necessaries of life and what methods have been taken to obtain them; or even to look over the old day-books of the merchants, to see what it was that men most commonly bought at the stores, what they stored, that is, what are the grossest groceries.

And so that was it. This venture of ours into a dilapidated old fishing shack became our mission to find the grossest of the groceries. What did we really need to be happy and how could we find it together?

No pictures today, but it has been far too long and I am tired of waiting. Computers are still out of commission. One has survived the viral issue, two are now pronounced deceased. We are living full time now up in our cabin and it is slowly starting to look a bit more like a habitable space. There is now hot water, a stove and a refrigerator. My goodness, we might soon even have a bed!

Even while roughing it, we know we have made the correct decision.

The closest town to us is White Salmon. White Salmon is so named after the mythical white salmon whose spirit presided over the giant fish which used to return every year to spawn (pre-dammed Columbia River). The Native name literally translates to "where the sun meets the rain."

Because we are nestled in a valley of the Cascade Mountains, we are literally in the middle of the rainshadow. This means far less rain, mixed ecosystems, and an abundance of varied wildlife. Couple this with the fact our lake is located in a critical habitat designation of a wilderness and you have a rather extreme version of the nature channel every day.

This level of federal, state and county designations make for a bit of an interesting living situation since very little can be done to our house. (The neighbor's hot tub permit was going to cost him 1,500 dollars, take 2 years of committee meetings, and even then might not be approved.) However, the wildlife here is definitely thriving.

Our first evening, we were serenaded by a wild turkey. They have the most infectious gobble! It is very difficult not to repeatedly chuckle as they call. The Barracuda quickly named him (or her) Steve and they "talk" frequently. Steve gobbles, The Barracuda mimics back, Steve replies. The Barracuda has decided to enter the county fair's turkey calling contest (no joke!) which is a highly prestigious event amount adult males around here.

As the sun sets, dozens of swallows begin darting over the lake with a dance-like grace. They swoop and dive, weave in and out of one another, and fly so fast you think they will have mid-air collisions any second. It is somewhere between joyful play and theatrical production.

Once night falls, the bats come out. Jules and I will sit on the dock and watch divebombing bats eat all the bugs possible. A single bat will eat 2000 insects an hour. The 50 or so we think might be out around us keep all the mosquitoes down to none.

Most all our meals are eaten out on the dock to soak up the quiet and peaceful atmosphere. This is also prime viewing time. Breakfasts are had with a parade of Canadian geese waking their goslings (who nest separately) and beginning the daily rounds of the lake. Dinners the same goslings are watched, only this time they are escorted home. The pair of eagles (who mate for life) that live across the lake from us, swoop and hunt these goslings as they parade back to their nests. The parents flap their wings, honk and holler, and threaten the predators. Ever patient, the eagles will take turns with menacing grace swooping ever lower to clutch a baby bird.

Last week, we watched a juvenile brown bear (about 300 lbs) chase a young deer into the lake looking for meal. The deer plunged into the water and began swimming with all its might. It crossed the lake as the bear lumbered along the far edge seeming to grumble to itself. This instance prompted us to bring up the 30/30 and have it posted above the door. As much as we don't need to worry about people here, the animal population is definitely in charge.

We will marvel at these animal shows for an hour or more at a time. The Barracuda can now identify half a dozen birds of prey just from their flight patterns and coloring. He is happily expanding all sorts of tracks, scat, and call identifications. I am equally delighted as we walk and new species of plants are found. Vanilla leaf (an natural bug repellent), wild strawberries, ducks feet (also known as sour apple plant) and the like all freely grow here.

We are quite joyful. Our experiences resolidify our desires to simplify. Unlike Mr. Plasma, our neighbor with a HUGE plasma screen TV, we are much happier absorbing our nature first hand rather than via the Discovery Channel.

We are experiencing some serious technological difficulties over here. One of our computers got a sexually transmitted disease. It wasn't pretty. It didn't live through it. What became a singular infection spread - very rapidly! Two more computers are in the shop, one has had major data recovery surgery and I think I might have contained the issue on this computer.

Do not allow your spouse to turn off the virus protection software and then go onto nefarious websites. It can mean a lot of trouble! Well, perhaps allow is the wrong word. Maybe, directly warn your spouse of how much damage can be created from this risky behavior.

There are a stack of pictures to show you all about the cabin and talk about how awesome the entire experience is. I'm hoping to get the posts up in the next two days.

The Barracuda and I are currently spending 5 days up at the cabin and 2 days in town. Currently there is no Internet up there so many posts will have to be written and scheduled. Here's hoping to get it all reeled in!

The sun has finally decided to grace us with her presence. The days have gotten longer but not very lazy. If any of you all live in places where there are lazy spring or summer days, could you please let me know. I don't think I've ever lived in this place.

When the sun finally comes around, we begin to get rather busy around here.

There are trees to learn to repel down.

There is bread to make and bake and eat.


And laundry to wash and hang and fold.


There is schoolwork to do and planners to fill out.


And excessively long grass to mow...


It is exhausting!
I'll save you the picture where Jules flips me off for taking pictures of him during his nap.

Luckily, Guadalupe is there to supervise and make sure everything turns out correctly.

I wouldn't trade it for much of anything though. I love the evenings of waning light and the mornings of birds singing and the glow outside the windows. The Barracuda is tired every night and can actively play outside over 3 hours a day. Things might get busier, but when we do them as a family it feels pretty darn great.

Though we will be renovating from next weekend till what seems to be the end of time, we are not willing to spend the entire summer without at least one long distance hike. The Wonderland trail was picked for a couple of reasons:

1) It is reasonably close: The Wonderland encircles Mount Rainer which is less than a day's drive North of us. With rising gas prices, the proximity allows us to drive up and back without annihilating any kind of budget.

The red trail is the 93 mile Wonderland Trail. It stays well below what would be considered a need to rope up, but is often still covered in snow through much of July when we will be going.

2) It is a short one: Though considered one of the most beautiful long distance trails in America, the Wonderland is only going to take us 9 days to complete. If we want a zero day we can take it, but we probably won't unless the side trails are just too alluring. We can drive up, pick up permits, hike, and head home all in less than 2 weeks. The short time line means both the trip and the renovations this summer can be successful.

Since the entire trail is located with Mt. Rainer National Park, it is highly monitored wilderness area and kept as pristine as possible. Though not forest primordial, it is relatively unchanged since the trail was put in almost 100 years ago.

3)Oh and Ah Factor: The Wonderland Trail crosses up and down over the glacier carved ridgelines and alpine meadows creating incredible views both from high and from the valley. There are 2 suspension bridges, many raging river crossings where you only get a log to walk along, and you are within 500 feet of the lowest glacier in the Continental US (Carbon Creek). From canyons to waterfalls to being in the high Cascades, it is high interest every day while still maintaining an entirely wilderness status. In many places, that is hard to do.

The wildflowers supposedly come out in July and are well known to light up the alpine and sub alpine meadows. If the cold, wet weather keeps up, we are set to miss them and get much more snow.

4) It's a Hike: Though are days are only about 9-10 miles each, the elevation gain and loss is an average 3500 feet. You are literally climbing or falling almost the entire time with a total elevation gain of 22,000 feet. This is the sort of hike which keeps our family interested.

Part of this is also to feel small and at the mercy of the natural world. So much of the time it seems that we tend to forget that it isn't about us, we don't really have much control, and that isn't a bad thing.

5) Homeschooling: If we are going to say that we homeschool our child, we need to do it! Walking around Rainer will hopefully be a great intro to circumnavigating many more mountains (Timberline, Loowit, Three Sisters Loop, etc). The views of rainshadow, the ecosystem changes, the 25 glaciers, all of it shows the very direct effects of today's environment. If we have the freedom to not have to actually be "in school" we better live it up!

With three separate summits, the mountain looks different from every angle. Such is the life of a stratovolcano and part of the fun of circumnavigation.

6)Why Not?!: This is the biggest reason of all. If we can't take 2 weeks of our life to show our son this National Park, that is just pathetic. None of us have seen it, it is critically acclaimed, and we don't need any gear since we have all of it. We can all do it without much training and it won't cost us anything but 20 dollars for the reservation and gas. It seemed like an extreme no-brainer.
Note: Since crampons or micro-spikes should only be used when it is deadly to proceed otherwise, we won't be taking them. The chances of hurting yourself to the point of needing immediate hospital attention are just too high. Even when highly trained, people often panic and stupidly put their feet down instead of properly self arresting or glassading. We will carry ice axes as The Barracuda has been trained how to use one and will rope up if necessary. He will most likely not be using crampons until he is at least 14, ice climbing, and been through years of professional training. I'm just not willing to permanently kill my son's feet.

Confirmation of our reservation came today. Mid July we are heading up North. As of now Jules, myself, The Barracuda, and (oddly) my brother have decided to take it on. I don't know exactly how well my brother will fare (hopefully well), but we have been alpine training for quite a stint and don't plan on stopping anytime soon. The Barracuda wants to begin running with me every other day and has decided to trail run with Jules as well. Once his form really takes hold, we will apply some weight. He's pretty darn good to go!

We received confirmation yesterday. After 6 months of negotiations, one fall through, and a bit of some rocky territory with a lease, we have been approved to purchase a cabin. Neither Jules nor I really know how to feel about this. We have been keeping ourselves optimistically reserved due to all the negotiations and high/low moments of this whole ordeal. The possibilities make us excited though.

I use the term "cabin" lightly. We are basically moving into an old fishing shack. It doesn't have any rooms. It doesn't have any heat. It doesn't have any insulation. It doesn't have any septic system. It doesn't have an address which exists on any map.

That's basically all of it...other than the plywood bathroom through the door on the far right. The kitchen is a sink off to the near right where you see the bar-like box which are supposed to be cabinets only they don't close correctly.

At this point we seem a bit crazy. Why would we leave our current house 2 blocks from the park, one block from the fire station, in a great neighborhood, with still decent property values? Our current house has such luxuries as a bathtub, lighting, and a stove.

Because what it does have is an incredible deck, a private dock, and is bordered on all 4 sides by federally protected land. One mile to our South is a National Scenic area. Flanked on both sides are National Forests. Directly out front is now a lake, but soon to be a wild and scenic river. They are taking down the last dam (which makes our lake) in the Fall of 2011. Salmon will spawn out our backyard.

Think Walden Pond.
(Thoreau was 480 square feet; we are whopping 496.)

It has been increasingly important for Jules and I to live deliberately. Each of our decisions is not only influencing our son, but each decision that we don't make also sends a strong message. With the purchase of this house and our move we hope to show our son that sort-of doing things doesn't work. You need to be all in. It isn't about doing alpine training once a week; it is spending a week backpacking around a mountain. It isn't about eating locally or being part of a farm share; it is about catching dinner from the backyard and walking down the street to the farm to pick it and process it yourself. It isn't about lowering your credit card; it is about being completely debt free (we are 5 years out including our mortgage). It is important not to half-ass your life. Figure out your priorities and then go at them full throttle.


Our Priorities
Knowing Your Space
We wish to live somewhere we know intimately. In the last three years we have gotten to the point I know exactly how much water it takes to run our house and how long it has to rain to get there. I know how the floor is supported, the pipes run, and the electricity flows from spending hours under the house digging out a cellar with a 5 gallon bucket. I know the line where the sun turns to shade at each time of day and throughout the seasons. But I don't know the walls. I don't know roof. I don't know the relationship of power input and output. Most importantly, I don't know the stories of my space. It is all well and good to make memories in your spaces, but we wish to know their memories as well.

This summer we are going to be rebuilding the house from the floorboards up (because you can actually see through the floor to the dirt below in a couple of places). Wall by wall we will be learning from our space. From crawling in the dirt under it, to establishing a gray water filtration system outside, we can honestly say it is our house and not just a dwelling we purchased.

Nurturing the Land
It is all well and good for us to be going as carbon neutral as possible here in our current house, but most any city has limitations on what is legal. We have yet to find any place in a U.S. city which does not outlaw off the grid living. As much as I realize the reasons, I also know we cannot turn off our water in favor of gray water systems without the fear the city will take our son away, or have more than three solar panels, or any solar panels which aren't grid tied for that matter. We actually know people who have been evicted from their personal property due to off the grid living and our city is championed for its sustainable efforts. By the sheer nature of where we will be living, there is very little choice but to be off the grid. Secondly, there isn't anyone to either report us or to report to if someone had an issue.

Getting permits for a place that is surrounded by Endangered Species land and large numbers of federal protections is something which I don't even want to attempt. After about 3 hours of phone calls, I was informed it would take a minimum of 6 months for our composting toilet application to be fully approved. That isn't any infrastructure, just a large fancy plastic box. I can't imagine what it takes to get a building permit! We basically get to work with what we have and we have to do it personally. That means the ability to expand out the established deck to create bedrooms and maximize our house at just over 800 square feet.

It also means we need to be able to run most all of our house by ourselves with full knowledge of repairs. Solar panels to need to run 95% our electric since power can go out for over a month in the winter. A cistern has to be put in for our water because the city water pipes tend freeze solid by October and don't thaw till May. Propane appliances are necessary and as a backup heating source since there are no Natural Gas lines. Lastly, any pollution we create is going to go directly into an endangered species waterway or protected wilderness areas so we need to be darn sure we are as closed a system as possible. My job as homemaker just got kicked up a notch.

Simplicity
Simplicity seems to be all the rage these days. It is quite the buzzword around our city and creates quite the bumper sticker lifestyle. Somewhere along the line, people have forgotten the actual meaning of the word. Though we aren't going as far as the Amish, we truly want our son to realize what a luxury is. Light is a luxury. Heat is a luxury. Plowed roads and paved roads are luxuries. These are not things that people really need, but just make life a whole lot nicer. If you have to think about turning on the light because you might exhaust your battery bank, you think about it differently. If you have to build the fire by 5:30 am in order for the house to warm up enough during the day, you experience warmth differently. If your dad has to cross country ski to meet up with the carpool so he can go to work, you consider transportation differently.

We wish to actually live simply. House only big enough to eat and sleep in. Fun coming from exploring the nature around us. Food you have to personally handle from alive to your plate or you don't eat.

Recreation
I had a friend from Hawaii who was baffled about how peopled talked about life here on the mainland. She explained that in Hawaii when someone asked, "What do you do?" the answer would be something like surfing, snorkeling, hiking, or the like. What do you do meant how to you choose to spend your time. People only worked to possess enough capital to continue their passions. On the mainland "What do you do?" directly refers to whatever job you hold regardless of whether you like it. Your personal identity was somehow wound up in your employer and life was spent working rather than really living anything. She couldn't understand why anyone would want to focus more on their occupation than on their passion. What is more, very few people in Hawaii turned their passion into work. The point wasn't to turn something you loved into something you had to work on. You were to love it for the sake of the love and to work on whatever you could easily put away after you had made the money. The concept that people would turn something they loved into something which became an obligation further confused her.

We wish to have our passions be the center of our lives, rather than our bills. When Jules and I look at the people we have begun gravitating to in the last few years we find a common thread: these people are all in about what they care about. They eat it, sleep it, and breathe it. Most all of them have had to take some fairly drastic measures to make their passions the center of their lives. When we honestly looked at it, the place we lived was our limiting factor. Rather than continue to be posers who merely talk about changing, we needed to do it. We also want our son to see people who live this way whether they be crag rats, river rats, artist bums, commune hippies, or what have you.

Looking Forward
A little over a year ago we revamped the look of our humble little blog to include the pages across the top and a bit more focus to my ramblings. With this move, the hope is to become even more refined as we discuss living in our natural world, pulling the "house" off the grid, and training for some extreme recreation.

So what do we do without television? We teach our child to Prusik himself way up in a tree...




And then we encourage him to swing around like a monkey....


Because a tree, a harness, and knowledge of knots is a terrible thing to waste....


And we don't have a tire swing.

So how did you spend your REI refund this year?

HCRHST stands for the Historic Columbia River Highway State Trail. My son and I are attempting his first end-to-end which turned out to be about 90 miles. For pictures and back story check out these links: Getting Ready, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Pictures, and Progress.

This is the portion of our trip where things began to get a bit crazy. Now, you may say that not having a hotel was crazy, or that sleeping through extreme weather warnings was crazy, or even hitchhiking with your small child was crazy, but all that was sort of par for the course on a long distance trip especially through our Gorge in January.

When we hit our third extreme weather advisory in Eagle Creek it was due to flooding. The rain began to come and it just didn't stop. It transformed from rain into pouring and continued for 2 days solid. This combined with the fact it had warmed up only enough to not be snowing and the ground was melting off. We got updates from the Rangers that went something like this: "You cannot continue, all trails are closed," or "We have rerouted some of the major trails as things appear to be letting up, but it is still not safe to continue," or "Nope, you can't go on. Multnomah Falls is even closed due to snow melt combined with the flooding. " When that one was announced I knew we might actually have to end. The only other time this major tourist attraction has been closed was in the now fabled Floods of '96. During that time the Willamette River rose over 10 and a half feet. A foot of that was in under 3 days. We get serious rain here. Since we didn't have a television or the Internet to watch, I couldn't really tell just how bad it was elsewhere. So the map was pulled out and we tried to figure out a new game plan as the information streamed in.

Multiple giant Douglas Fir trees flank the original pavilion complete with stone fireplace and giant cooking pad.

Luckily, Eagle Creek is an incredible spot to be holed up. In the 1840's this is the place where intrepid Oregon Trail folks would place their wagons on rafts and float them down the Columbia hoping for the best. By the late 1800's steamers were popular here and ferried all sorts of cargo up and down the Gorge allowing commerce to the settlements. Due to such popular traffic, in 1915 The Columbia River Gorge Park was established as a unit of the Oregon National Forest system. This was the first time in our nation's history that any part of land was set aside for exclusively recreational use. The very small space (23 miles by about 5 miles wide) was set aside from timber use, resort population, and even mining.

The rock reads: "In honor of Jacob Kanzler 1879-1940 whose dedication to humanity and love of the great outdoors this 23 mile strip along the Columbia River was formally dedicated in 1915 to all people for recreational use and enjoyment.

So as the rain poured down around us, The Barracuda and I slept in the first campground to ever be established in a National Forest. In the first two years the campground was established (1915-1917) more than 150,000 people would sleep here and use the Eagle Creek Trail. This action set the precedent to be followed by the rest of the nation in the National Parks system. We read Call of the Wild, listened to the eagles scream overhead catching fish, and tried to stay as dry as possible. It seems like such a simple act, but connecting with that kind of history has been important to our family. We want our son to see that if it weren't for the early days of preservation, much of what he knows just wouldn't exist.


To be clear, the Columbia River Gorge Park was not considered a National Park. Yellowstone was the first designated National Park in 1890, but was set aside as animal and land protection. Yosemite, was deeded to the state of California in 1864 for preservation as well. The Columbia River Gorge Park was the first recreational facility on federal lands and Eagle Creek the first campground. It was not for preservation of animals or resources, but for the sheer joy of recreational pursuits and a trial for the forest service to see if people would actively use a space for camping/hiking/natural pursuits.

I'm a control freak. While I realize the entire effort is completely pointless, because we are ultimately in control of almost nothing, I still grip the world far too tightly when it comes to matters of big change. I'm highly easy going with the little stuff, but big stuff and I just don't work out too well if you spring it on me.

Let's pick an example from quite a long list of recent events: In order to cash a savings bond I had to be placed on Jules' checking account for approximately 4 days. I had a complete panic attack in the middle of the bank. I think I scared the teller a bit. The security guard was definitely on edge as well. Later, Jules likened it to a cartoon cat who is supposed to take a bath. Yeah...that's probably accurate.

Well, another freak out moment happened yesterday. After quite a long drive and personal lecture (I moved out pretty young and had to embrace the art of the personal lecturing), I have decided to put my big girl pants on and get back into this blogging and being an adult thing. Regardless of how much of life is up in the air at the moment, I should probably hold it together a tad bit better than I have been. You know, that whole Role-Model-To-A-Child deal.

Let me state for the record (and mainly all the Family who read this), the up in the air stuff isn't really bad stuff. Here's the short list:

1 ) Finding out about the ulcer stuff isn't bad, though I am annoyed with how much of it is unknown.

2 ) The first house we were looking at fell through after 2.5 months of negotiations; it was a bummer. That isn't bad, because the one down the street we are currently negotiating on (and have been for the last month) is much, much better even if it is nail bitingly suspenseful working for approval of 3 different agencies (owner, county, and leasing agent) More will come after April 8th when we are given some kind of confirmation. Currently we are through 2 agencies and just need the third.

3 ) My work as a writer has been on hold for 6 weeks (making money tight), but that isn't bad because they are reworking the entire website and I've been given a promotion to columnist (WAHOO!).

4 ) After almost a month of planning, we are sending off our Wonderland Trail application and won't know until May. That's not really bad, since I want the mountain to be intact more than I want to traipse around it, but it sure would be nice to know earlier if the whole thing was going to happen and how many miles we have to hike a day.

So yeah, that kinda normal adult life stuff that I should probably not get all bent out of shape about. Long story short, blogging will once again be back to normal.

Here in our household, there is only one person who follows what would normally be called "Traditional Medicine" and that is Jules. I am slowly corrupting him over to "VooDoo Medicine" as he calls anything homeopathic. I don't even take asprin. However, in the last little bit that has had to change due to this whole ulcer thing. In the middle of the night, stabbing stomach pains which inhibit walking and breathing require an emergency room visit regardless of where you stand with Traditional Medicine. In my experience, emergency room visits generally result in X rays and medications with long fancy names, and this one was no different. I've now been on meds for about a month and it is really throwing me for a loop!

Pre ulcer diagnosis, I didn't really realize there was much going wrong in my stomach. I'd have occasional heart burn (but who doesn't when they eat triple pepperoni pizza with pineapple?) and I could easily identify the food which I ate that was probably a bad choice. It didn't really happen very often. I didn't feel all that tired. I didn't really have many foods which upset my stomach or my intestines. In short, I considered myself pretty healthy.

Now, I am on anti-inflammatory meds which turn down my stomach acid level quite considerably. I am supposed to accompany these meds with an over-the-counter antacid 30 minutes before I eat something acidic or which could produce excess stomach acid due to being hard to digest. Do you know now many foods are considered "acidic?" They include, but are not limited too: oranges, any citrus fruits or juices, tomatoes, coffee, chocolate, meats other than fish or chicken, fatty sauces or gravies, items which contain calcium (because they increase stomach acid), nuts and seeds (hard to digest), many raw vegetables, items which contain honey or sugar, and fruit juices. Well, that basically includes 90 percent of what I eat.

My non-medication centered life has been quite different for the last 25 days and I'm not liking the results. I'm exhausted. All this lowering of my stomach acids has caused significantly decreased digestion and I'm really feeling it. My anti-medication stance is being further fortified as I really dislike the borderline nausea feeling of having a constantly full stomach, but my body demanding more nutrients. Man oh man, I don't know how people can take handfuls of medication, or medications to counteract symptoms of other medications. It's kicking my butt!

I honestly recognize the need for me to be on these meds for the month that I have been. I dare say the pain in my stomach was even slightly more intense than labor with The Barracuda, and believe me, it wasn't a fun birth. With 11 pills left, I'm sticking it out because I just plain don't want to feel that bad again. However, after this first dosage is over we are switching back to the natural route for illness protection and prevention. If my current feeling is how 62% of traditional medicine followers feel, it explains a lot about depression in the United States.

It is odd to say that since taking medication to make me "better," I feel far worse. Considering most people acquire the H. pylori bacteria in their system when they are children and then carry it the rest of their lives, the issue is most likely never going to go away for me. Personally I'm taking this stint of ickiness to further fortify my desire to go back to juicing, teas/tonics, yoga, and long distance trails.