101 in 1001

Ok, so I've been meaning to post this for awhile now, but I have waaaay too many things that I want to accomplish in this crazy life of mine and it's difficult to narrow it down to just 101. 1001 days is two years, 8 months, and 26 days to be exact. That's 143 weeks. Or 143 weekends. Or 24,024 hours. Or 86,486,400 seconds. Basically, it's a lot of time to accomplish a lot of things. By counting today as Day 1, I have until Friday, December 24th, 2010 to get these things done. Sounds like a good enough Christmas present to me. I could probably make a list of about 1000 things that I want to do, but I think that this is a pretty good start for the next few years. Here goes...

1. Learn to climb/rappel/belay outdoors - started on May 11, 2008, plus many other trips
2. Climb a 14er in Colorado
3. Canyoneer Salome Jug - May 18, 2008
4. Hike Mt. Humphrey's - June 28, 2008
5. Visit Zion Nat'l Park - July 2008
6. Visit Bryce Canyon
7. MTB in Moab - April 2009
8. Complete an Ironman Triathalon
9. Buy a road bike - May 31, 2008
10. Bike from Canada to Mexico
11. Bike from Flagstaff to Grand Canyon
12. Bike from Phoenix to Tuscon - attempted June 17, 2008, haha
13. MTB in Jerome - MTB on Mingus Mtn July 2008, close enough :)
14. Learn to jump up logs and curbs on the bike - Jumping haybales Feb 2009
15. Ride National without getting off the bike
16. Learn to whitewater kayak - August 2009
17. Whitewater kayak on the Grand Canyon starting at Lees Ferry - August 2009 (and rafting, too)
18. Climb Weaver's Needle - Summitted Feb 21, 2009
19. Visit Karchner Caverns - November 21, 2010
20. Visit Rocky Point
21. Visit Death Valley
22. Visit New Zealand
23. Learn to wakeboard - Summer 2010
24. Buy a longboard
25. Surf the pier at Oceanside - September 2008
26. Visit Yosemite
27. Hike Half Dome
28. Climb Baboquivari - climbed (no summit) March 7, 2009
29. Rim to Rim to Rim in the Grand Canyon
30. Visit the sipapuni
31. Visit Portland (and the Colombia River Gorge)
32. Visit Seattle (and climb Mt. Rainier)
33. Hike the Four Peaks Motherlode - July 20, 2008
34. Hike Peralta Trail - hiked from trailhead to Weaver's Feb 21, 2009
35. Spend a night in Phantom Ranch
36. Spend one weekend in the wild without seeing another person
37. Learn to sail (something smaller than a brig)
38. Snowboard in Colorado - March 2009
39. Snowboard in Utah
40. Complete a 24-hour adventure race
41. Complete an expedition adventure race
42. Complete a 24-hour MTB race SOLO - took 10th at 24 HOP Feb 14th, 2009
43. Hike Knobstone Trail with my sister - Hiked 11 miles of it May 24, 2008
44. Canoe with my dad on Blue River every year - May 2008, 2009
45. Spend Christmas with my family every year - Dec 2008, 2009, 2010
46. Spend Thanksgiving with my family every year - Nov 2008, 2009, 2010
47. Make as many family reunions as I can - July 2008
48. Maintain a close relationship with my family
49. Attend an ASU baseball game
50. Attend an ASU softball game
51. Attend a PHX Suns game
52. Attend a Diamondbacks game
53. Finish the PhD
54. Publish a paper as a first author
55. Make my mentors proud of my research - have been for several months now in 2010
56. Publish a paper in Virology or PNAS (or another high impact journal) - published in PNAS Dec 2008!
57. Volunteer in Africa
58. Read at least one new research article a week
59. Become more comfortable answering seminar questions - MCB Colloquium March 30, 2009
60. Show unambiguous positive results for my VLPs - March 2010
61. Maintain a healthy work/life balance
62. Inspire kids to live their dreams
63. Inspire adults to live their dreams
64. Save a life
65. Become more proficient on the guitar
66. Support local music
67. Attend Bonnaroo or similar music festival
68. Participate in the Burning Man Festival
69. Learn to cook Indian food
70. Write a book
71. Publish a book
72. Become a better photographer
73. Publish a coffee table book - Dec 2008
74. Finish reading a book by Thomas Wolfe
75. Read Unweaving the Rainbow by Richard Dawkins
76. Read Marching Powder by Thomas McFadden - June 2008
77. Read The Boy in Striped Pajamas by John Boyne
78. Expand and diversify my library
79. Learn the plants of the desert southwest
80. Skydive - August 13, 2010
81. Run long distance at least once a week
82. Have friends who trust me and whom I trust
83. Bike more, drive less
84. Volunteer with a rescue organization
85. Pay off ocean rowing debts - December 1, 2010
86. Give at least 5 inspirational speeches a year - Sierra Vista Library June 2008
87. Help future American ocean rowers through American Fire
88. Save/invest at least 15% of my paycheck
89. Stretch more
90. Live an examined life
91. Get in touch with old friends
92. Set aside time for dreaming
93. Have a garden
94. Leave no trace
95. Live sustainably
96. Make strangers smile
97. Become a more humble, thankful, and forgiving person
98. Have the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and the courage to change the things I can
99. Be a positive person
100. Desiderata (technically this is about 23 things, I'm not going to list them all, but check out the poem, it pretty much sums up my philosophy on life)
101. Figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life

Easter Weekend

After a long, full, productive week in the lab, I was definitely ready for the weekend. Thursday was the first day of spring, and though I didn't celebrate it with any pagan rituals, I did have to laugh thinking about them, recalling stories that Tara entertained us with on the ocean describing some of her old friends' eccentric ways. None the less, by Friday, I did need to get out and celebrate the new season by at least getting out and enjoying the outdoors.

On Friday night, Chad and a few of his friends and I headed out to Saguaro Lake for some midnight moonlight paddling. I had never been to the lake at night, and it was absolutely gorgeous. The full moon shone high above us, silhouetting the saguaros on the hills and turning the mill pond flat water into a giant silvery mirror. We dragged the canoes down to the beach at Butcher Jones RA and slipped silently into the smooth water. All was quiet except for a few late night crickets and the dip of our paddles. Some of my favorite times on the ocean were at night, Kohl and I rowing silently along in the moonlight, the beauty and tranquility of the vast nighttime ocean too much for words. The paddle out on Saguaro had much the same effect for me, and I was completely in my element, gliding along and smiling up at the Pleiedes from my watery vantage point. Some of Chad's friends were camping at the northeastern end of the lake, and we paddled out to join them for a few beers, a warm campfire (it got really cold around 2 a.m.), and lots of stories of adventure. Chad, Jeff, Richie, and Vicky just got back from a 6 day whitewater trip down the San Francisco River, so there were plenty of stories to go around. Rich also tried out Jeff's whitewater kayak, and accidentally learned how well it rolled in the frigid lake. We paddled back around 4 in the morning. I have never seen the desert so still or so quiet, and it was truly magical. I forget how much I miss the freedom and beauty of the ocean until I'm out on the water, and the moonlight paddle was really good for my soul.

After a few hours of sleep, I was back on the water. We had our second dragonboating practice with the ING Blazing Lions. I was a bit groggy at first after only three hours of sleep, but as soon as we started practicing starts, my adrenaline kicked in and I was having a blast once again. Although not half as intense as rowing starts, dragonboat starts are still a lot of fun as you feel the boat pick up, and speed just feels good. Before we knew it, our hour on the water was over, leaving me wanting more. These little tastes of water time are teasing, and have me seriously contemplating starting up sculling with Rio Salado despite my self proclaimed hiatus from rowing altogether. After the practice, Angel and one of our teammates Laura and I headed out to South Mountain for a hike. South Mountain is like a second home to me in the Valley, and it's interesting to see the change in the seasons in the preserve. When I first got back in late January, the mountains were just beginning to green up... small annuals germinating in the wet winter. A few weeks later, those annuals were full bushy, mature plants. Soon enough, the green exploded into a colorful array of purples and oranges. And now, with the sun getting more intense and the ground getting drier, the plants are starting to pack up and form seeds, preparing for the long, hot summer ahead. As we walked along the creek in Hidden Valley, the harbingers of summer were all around us... tangles of dried weeds and lupines with the last of their blossoms clinging to the uppermost spikes lined the path. It was a good hike though, and we enjoyed the perfect weather, knowing that it won't last forever here in Phoenix. After a late lunch and hanging out in Tempe for a bit, I was thoroughly exhausted and headed back home. Even though I was completely knackered, I am incapable of taking naps. I spent the remainder of the day getting things done around the house and playing with the new topographical map software that Pierre gave me. Pretty sweet stuff... and it's opened up a while new realm of possibilities for exploration. Who could sleep with thoughts of new adventures running through their heads? My body finally got the best of me around midnight and I crashed hard.

I woke up early Easter morning to The Edge's Sunday Morning Service. The chill acoustic music wasn't quite a sunrise sermon with First Baptist Church overlooking the dew swept fields of southern Indiana, but it was still good for my soul. After I got my fill of the tunes (some of which were on our iPods on the ocean - courtesy Ryan and his Edge CD, and brought me right back to the On The Go playlists that we made and listened to on our three hour long graveyard shifts) Angel, her friend Christy, and I took a trip up to Boulder Canyon for some hiking and playing. It's amazing how varied the seasons are in different parts of Maricopa County alone. The drive up was incredible, with millions of different wildflowers blanketing the hills leading up to Canyon Lake. We parked at the south end of the lake, and headed towards Boulder Creek. We hiked along the ridgeline for awhile, following Christy's dog Toby until the trail that we had been on ended abruptly on a bluff overlooking the creek below. We backtracked until we found a pseudotrail lower on the ridge and had a great time bushwhacking down to the water. We may be desert rats, but we sure do love our water. The scenery was breathtaking below: clear, deep pools of water surrounded by walls to climb and boulders to jump off of and rapids strewn with water-smoothed rocks at the end of the pools. Even though we knew the water was freezing, the clear creek just looked too inviting, so Angel and I tore off our shoes, contemplated our actions for about three seconds, and then jumped in. The shock of the cold immediately took our breath away, compressing our lungs as our bodies tried to conserve any heat that remained, and we crawled out of the water as fast as we could to regain our normal breathing. Even with our goosebumps and red skin, the power of the beautiful water was too strong for our wills, and in no time we were back in, swimming around, attempting to climb up the walls, and crawling through the rapids. The entire canyon just beckoned to be explored, so we headed upstream, the slap of our wet bare feet on the smooth dry boulders echoing off the high rock walls as we rock hopped back and forth across the creek. Deep green pools filled with moss covered rocks and and warm inviting sand bars kept our curiosity aroused as we pushed south, looking ahead to see what was around the next corner. We could have kept going all the way up the canyon to see where it led, but we figured that we had to save something for when Hannah is fully recovered, and we turned around after awhile and returned to our initial swimming hole for some lunch. Normally, my "lunch" on a hike consists of a Clif Bar and a banana, but Angel and Christy brought smoked trout, avocados, tomatoes, and crackers and we had a feast on the warm rocks beside the creek. After lunch we explored downstream and ended up bushwacking/climbing up the rocks along the wall. We eventually hit the trail home and followed it back to the car, enjoying the expansive vista of Canyon Lake in front of us.

Once we got back to Phoenix, we cleaned up a bit, and headed back out to Christy's family's Easter dinner in Tempe. Although I missed being with my own family on the holiday, it was nice to be able to share the evening with Angel and Christy and her family. Like any good family holiday, there was plenty of good homecooked food to go around and little kids running around in the spring grass in the backyard. I ended the weekend full of good food and ready to tackle the week ahead of me.

Path Less Traveled

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost

I have always made it a point to get out and explore the world around me, even if others have not been there before. I get complacent if I stay in my comfort zone too long, and complacency gets boring. I get really crabby when I'm bored, so I do my best to keep life new and interesting, even if it means taking a road that hasn't been traveled on for a bit. This weekend I tried a few new things, and decided to ditch roads and trails all together.

On Saturday, after almost two months of being out of a boat, I got back on the water... though I have to admit that it was as a traitor. You know those annoying boats that are always turning at completely random places on the lake and yelling and going slow and generally causing all sorts of trouble for the rowing crews? Yep, I was in one. Dragonboating..... paddling.... with a paddle. And it was a blast. Since I have been adopted into the ING family (I'm expecting my paycheck any day now, or at least a complementary mutual fund), they let me onto their corporate dragonboat team. I'm hoping to contribute more to this team than I did with my meager kickball skills. After a little land orientation on commands and how to hold the paddles and how to paddle together (I really feel like a traitor... paddling, geez), all 16 of us novies stepped into the boat with our enthusiastic coach and a steersman. It felt great to be back on the water, the cool waters of Tempe Town Lake splashing along the gunwales as we headed out on our crew's maiden voyage. For our first time together in a boat (and for all but one of us, our first time in a DB), we did really well. I sat stroke seat, which was awesome except for the fact that I had to share the job (in a dragonboat shell, you sit side by side - a port and starboard in the same lateral position, and by the nature of the boat, there are two "stroke" seats). Bonnie did well for her first time in a boat, so it was nothing against her, but I'm a bit too competitive to share the seat. Nonetheless, we all had a really good time. The boats actually go faster than they look, and I gained a new respect for the sport. It felt great to be out there, muscles pumping into the stroke during the intensity of a power 10 while the water rushed past the bow. There are nine corporate teams entered in the 2008 Dragonboat Festival which will be held March 28-29th, and I think we've got a pretty good shot at getting some hardware. Stay tuned. I spent the rest of the day tooling around on the bike in Papago Park, honing my jumping skills by repeating fun/tough sections of trail and climbing around on the buttes. And, as part of the ING family, I spent the evening up at Bill's 55th birthday party, sharing stories and enjoying the atmosphere of bikers and climbers and adventurers.

On Sunday, I headed out towards Fountain Hills for some mountain biking at the McDowell Mountain Park. I had never been biking out there, but I had heard great things about it, and was eager to tackle Pemberton and the competitive track. As I drove north on the Beeline Highway, I passed dozens of roadies taking advantage of the partially cloudy day and the perfectly cool temperatures. As I looked ahead at the cyclists, the great sandstone outcropping of Red Mountain stood stoically in the background. The mountain has held my curiosity since I moved to the Valley... mostly because I have never heard of anyone climbing it. Naturally, I've wanted to climb it for a long time for that reason alone. I've spent quite a bit of time on the Salt River side of the mountain, but the closest I had ever came to getting to the base was about a mile away. As I turned left onto Shea Blvd., my thoughts of Permberton were replaced with a vision of a route up the red rocks. I pulled into the Arby's parking lot, pulled my bike out of the Jeep, and headed back to Beeline. I tried to blend my fat tires in with the roadies as I pumped along the highway, staring off to the left, trying to find a break in the fence where I could sneak through to the mountain. Red Mountain and the land surrounding it are part of the Indian reservation, and technically, it's off limits (hence, why I've never heard of anyone climbing it). But down by the canal, I saw my chance... a nearby wash gave me just enough clearance to slide the bike under the fence. I biked along for a little bit until the highway was relatively free of cars, cut across to the other side, and stared at the green reservation sign that hung on a nearby gate. It read, "No Trespassing, $30,000 Fine, Confiscation of Vehicle, Arrest." I contemplated the sign for about 20 seconds, decided that a). the area isn't really patrolled, and that b). the sign was most likely meant for motorized vehicles. I hoped that both were true as I slipped under the fence and pulled my bike after me. There was an old dirt road that led away from the canal and I rolled the bike along it for a few hundred meters... all the time thinking about the green sign and wondering how often vehicles came down the dirt road. The tire tracks in the sand were at least a few weeks old, but I decided that I didn't need to try my luck, and I walked the bike up a small hill and hid it among the Palo Verde, locking it up just in case some random person followed my tracks and tried to confiscate my precious Fish.

Off of the road I felt much better, and the untouched wilderness of the desert spread out in front of me. A menagerie of lizards, squirrels, and birds scurried about the brush, and hundreds of wildflowers beckoned me towards the mountain. After I got well away from the highway, I was in heaven. No other people, no trash littered about, not even a trail to spoil the pristine springtime desert. The only noises were those of the natural world. Absolutely perfect. I forgot about the sign, and headed out into the rolling hills with a smile on my face, bounding along the rocks and taking in the beauty of it all. The entire desert between the highway and the base of the mountain is completely unspoiled. I saw flowers that I hadn't seen anywhere else in the Valley, and more lupine, poppies, blue dicks, and brittlebush than I had seen in any other place. It was almost overwhelming. Just me and the desert, completely at peace and full of life. It took me a few hours to get to the base of Red Mountain, simply because I was taking in all of the sights and scents and sounds of the new place. The climb up the mountain was great, the red sandstone in bright contrast with the yellow brittlebush and the white clouds that danced just above the peak. With no predetermined trails to lead me up, I picked my own trail, following washes and bouldering and scrambling up the scree until I got to the uppermost shoulder of the mountain. The final ascent to the very top looked doable from the highway, but up close, it was a little more intimidating. I figured that karma wouldn't be kind to me if I made a wrong move on a mountain that I wasn't supposed to be on in the first place. I wound halfway around the shoulder and still didn't find any decent routes, but was satisfied that I had finally made it most of the way up the landmark mountain. It was great to get a new perspective of the Valley from my vantage point, and I spent some time just relaxing on the shoulder before heading back. On my way down, I spotted a desert fox slinking through the tall greenery. We sat and watched each other for some time, finally deciding that the other meant no harm and continuing along our respective journeys. I was still overwhelmed with the wildness of this area... so close to civilization but so removed from it as well. Heading back down I had a commanding view of the rest of the reservation and I started thinking about the green sign again. The mind is a pretty powerful thing, and my thoughts started to get the better of me. If someone had a good set of binoculars and four-wheeler, I just might have a hard time getting out of this one. For the next ten minutes or so, I let my mind rush through all the scenarios of possible ambush: a modern day Wild West battle, with me running from the Indians who scouted me out in the bushes. So it was really funny when a helicopter came out of nowhere and whirred past me overhead. I felt no shame, only fear of the Indians getting me, as I scrambled as quickly as I could under some dense palo verde, making sure to cover the white of my shirt and the yellow of my Camelback until I could not longer hear their rotors. I wondered if I had hid my bike as well as I thought I did as the beast zoomed off in the direction of the canal. In all reality, it was probably a stat flight chopper or some private corporate helicopter, but in my mind, it was full of angry authorities who would lock me up for setting foot on the reservation. I would be lying if I said that I enjoyed my return hike as much as I did the hike in, as all I could think about was the green sign and the consequences that it clearly stated. By the time I got close to the highway, I just knew that my bike was going to be gone and there would be authorities waiting for me at the gate. As I snuck along the edge of the highway, I froze in my tracks: a white van was parked beside the highway, not 200 feet from where my bike should have been. I just stood there for a second, my mind racing as to what I should do. My bike was in there, and they had staked the area out for my arrest. After a few minutes, the van pulled away and I realized that I had been holding my breath and standing stock still behind a cactus. My brain would not let go of the idea of being caught as I sneaked over to the tree where I had locked my bike. In a break in the clouds, the sun shone down on the shiny aluminum frame untouched and still hidden deep in the palo verde. I breathed a sigh of relief, unlocked it, and headed cautiously back down the dirt road to the highway. No authorities, no Indians with tomahawks, nothing but the dust that I had rode in on and the back of a large green sign on the fence. I crawled back out and hopped back onto the highway. I rode back to the Jeep on adrenaline, feeling a bit silly for thinking up all of the outrageous scenarios but feeling great because none of them came true. I looked back at Red Mountain with a newfound respect of the beauty of the great sandstone peak and the land surrounding it. From the Arby's parking lot, I continued on my original journey out to McDowell Mountain Park. It was already 4 in the afternoon, so I decided to save Pemberton for another day and just hit up the competitive track. I completed the 7.9 mile Long Loop which was an absolute blast... the well worn trail was in stark contrast to the virgin desert of Red Mountain, but was just as beautiful to me as I hopped along the rocks and flew down the steep drops. After a good ride, I packed up and headed home just as the skies opened up. I rolled the window down and the let the cold drops pound my arm as I drove down the highway, knowing that it will probably be the last rain we see here in the Valley until monsoon season. As I passed Red Mountain, I smiled at the green sign by the Canal, laughing at my little adventure and already thinking about the next one.

Spring Break

Spring break means different things to just about everyone. To those back in the Midwest, it means more than a foot of snow. To us here in Phoenix, it means a desert full of wildflowers. To over 100 Purdue rowers, it means logging hundreds of thousands of meters on Lake Hartwell and eating every scrap of food that the Clemson dining halls can produce for the next 8 days. To the undergraduates of ASU, it means fish tacos and cheap beer on the beaches of Rocky Point. To my dad and sister, it means carving the perfect powder of Winter Park. And me.... well, I'm not doubled over in exhaustion at the end of a set of 12 500 meter pieces, but I'm also not racing my sister down the slopes. Although grad students don't get the week off, I am still enjoying the great weather that Phoenix has to offer at the moment, and taking advantage of the freedom of a campus empty of students and full of the sweet smell of orange blossoms.

Just because I have to work through the week doesn't mean that I'm not having any fun when I'm not in the lab. Last weekend, I attended my first First Friday Art Walk in downtown Phoenix with Chad. There isn't a whole lot in downtown Phoenix with the exception of a lot of corporate and governmental buildings, so I very rarely go downtown. For better or worse, Chad doesn't spend much time down their either and we had a little adventure driving and walking around Phoenix before we found the restaurant where we planned to have dinner. We had a great meal before promptly getting lost again, and thought about just going to the Suns game instead of the Art Walk, as we had no problem finding USAirways Center as we circled around the block a few times. Fortunately for us, we did eventually find the library and didn't have to endure another Suns loss. We decided to play the rest of the night by ear and hopped on the first shuttle that came by without regard to the Art Walk map. We weren't disappointed with the West Loop and enjoyed everything from intricately detailed oil paintings to modern art to photography to a studio filled with nothing but imaginative pinatas. The art was great, but our conversations on our past and future adventures were even better.

On Saturday, Jack and I headed down to South Mountain to tackle National Trail in its entirety. I've hiked National before, but its massive rock steps and steep, hairpinned singletrack have kept me from biking it until Saturday. We headed out on Desert Classic, warming up on the nine familiar miles with speed until we got to the base of the mountain and Telegraph Pass. In order to have the joy of going DOWN South Mountain, you somehow have to get UP it. Jack and I are both very competitive people, and we tried to go as long as we could without "putting our feet down" (ie. hike-a-bike). As soon as the incline started, we lasted less than 50 meters in our saddles, and ended up pretty much carrying our bikes up the long, steep hill. At the top, we rode the road for a few miles along the ridgeline, continuing our journey to the very top of the range, racing roadies with their little gears and skinny tires on the pavement. After we passed the landmark cell phone towers (which aren't all that impressive up close considering that you can see them from everywhere in the Valley), we took a quick stop to enjoy the view and eat a few Clif bars before starting on the piece de la resistance: National. We actually started off on the wrong trail that turned out to not be a trail after all. From our vantage point of the top of a small knoll, we saw the main trail below us... a few hundred meters of scree and cacti separating us from our destination. Jack took off before me, hitting a perfect line down the hill and expertly hopping onto National. I followed behind, hitting every rock on the way down and painfully half-endoing into the scrub. It was a bit of foreshadowing as to what the rest of the ride would be like, but at least I knew what I was getting myself into. Actually, the trail wasn't as bad as I thought... it's just that Jack is much better than I am. It was a great learning ride, gaining confidence with each rock that I would ride up and each gnarly drop that I would hit perfectly. Every time that I had to get off my bike and walk a section, I promised myself that I would try riding down it the next time. Some of the drops were pretty wicked, and Jack and I kept watching each other, hoping to catch one of us taking an equally wicked spill. Fortunately, neither of us hurt ourselves too bad, and by the time we got to the final downhill to the fire road, we felt that we had both improved our skills dramatically. We cruised the last two miles to the truck dodging hikers and bunny hopping rocks on the fast gentle downward sloping dirt road. Jack fixed an excellent lunch of pork, potatoes, and sauerkraut and then I headed out back up north to help Hannah in her rehabilitation. Angel and I played frisbee with her along the shore of Tempe Town Lake, taking advantage of the gorgeous weather and Hannah's knee that grows stronger with every day. ODP will be back in full swing before you know it.

What spring break is complete without drinking and a little bit of debauchery? Ok, well I had four of them during my college career, so I have a lot of catching up to do. Saturday night fulfilled that requirement at Dixon's Rubik's Cube Party. Everyone at the party had on 6 items of clothing, each with a different color of the Rubik's Cube. After a bit of drinking and socializing, Dixon gave the order, and a trading frenzy began with all of us trying to get all 6 items of clothing to be one color. I chose blue... made interesting by the fact that there were only two pairs of blue pants/shorts in the entire party and four of us tried to go blue (yes, out of more than 50 people, only four of us chose blue, yeah for being original!). I ended up the night with three blue socks, several blue belts, and two blue t-shirts, one of which I fashioned into a skirt. All in all, it was a very fun, very entertaining night.

On Sunday, I decided to head back to South Mountain to hike and take some pictures of the spring bloom. I was still tired from Saturday's events, so I decided to take it easy, lazily wandering among the rocks around Hidden Valley. But, even the most innocent of my hikes turns into an adventure. As I was climbing up a little set of rocks, I heard the unmistakable humming that signalled the proximity of a beehive. But there were some beautiful brittlebrush growing along some really cool rock formations right at the crack in the rock where the bees were buzzing in and out of their hive. As I crept closer, lots of questions went through my mind... Do bees get angry if people get close to their hive? How close is considered offensive? Do angry bees sound different than happy bees? Is there any way to tell whether bees are Africanized or normal? ...It only took about 10 minutes for me to find out. About 30 feet from the hive, an happy bee mistook my Camelback for a massive yellow flower and turned into an angry bee, lodging itself between the pack and my shoulderblade. I felt the little guy jam its hindquarters into my shirtless back, and instantly began a little dance that I'm sure would have been pretty humorous to anyone watching as I flailed about trying to remove the Camelback. Angry bee then decided to fly into my hair, making my dance even more interesting, flinging my sunglasses to the ground as I did an impression of a bad 80's rock star crossed with an Indian performing a rain dance, my back on fire as the stinger's poison began spreading across my shoulder. Once I had successfully smashed the remains of the bee into my skull, the angry buzzing stopped and I took stock of the situation. Somehow I had gotten stung twice (is that possible with one bee?), and the poison was slowly tenderizing my shoulder. I walked a little further from the hive and with a little more dancing, managed to extract the stinger from my back. After deciding that I wasn't going to break out in hives and my throat wasn't going to close up (the majority of my family is allergic to bees, and I hadn't been stung in awhile), I continued further into the valley, Camelback gingerly resting on my back. I hiked up a hill and spent the remainder of the afternoon taking in the beauty of the colorful desert and napping on a large warm rock. After a nice relaxing afternoon, I headed back home to fix my first Indian meal of curried rice and daal. I probably could have added half of the spices and been fine, but I thought it tasted good, and my Indian coworkers approved as well.

Other than that, my spring break has been mostly spent in the lab, the warm weather teasing me in its perfectness. It didn't take much for Emily Haydon to convince me to play hookie on Wednesday morning and go climb Picacho Peak. Out of the five of us that ditched work and school to enjoy the midweek hike, only Emily Cripe had been up the landmark mountain before, and we all enjoyed the 4 mile trek up the peak. A whole host of wildflowers lined the path on the hike up, and the view of the surrounding desert from the top was incredible.

I wasn't a very good truant, though, and I spent the rest of the day at work. It's been a successful spring break so far, and I should be ready to publish my first, first author paper in the next month or so. It's pretty exciting stuff to say the least, both for the results that I've been getting and the fact that I'll be publishing. Good, nerdy stuff :). Anyways, just one more day at work and then I'll spend the weekend of my spring break outdoors somewhere. Until then, it's back to work!

On Logic, Science, God, and Life

"We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here." -Richard Dawkins

I am lucky. Tonight I was reminded exactly why I do what I do, and why I may never leave academia. It's been up and down in the lab all week. Unanswered questions and ambiguous (or downright puzzling) results have kept me staring longingly at the pictures of various adventures that adorn my desk and walls at work. During the rough times, I forget why I am doing what I do, and I long to find a way to get out... out of the lab, out of the city, outdoors somewhere making a living off of adrenaline. But, then, there are days like today when I am reminded that if I were living a different life, I would long for academia just as much.

Tonight, I attended a lecture by the controversial British evolutionary biologist, Richard Dawkins. The lecture, and his books, do more than simply try to make a point based on his ideologies as many religious and even some scientific speakers do... Dawkins is a very logical thinker and bases his ideas on real facts and well thought-out conclusions. He is controversial because he is an atheist and he is not afraid to make people think. The lecture was entitled, "The God Delusion," and discussed the shortcomings in truth in religion and societal impacts of religion among other things. I won't delve into the lecture topic, as I could spend hours discussing the matter (and did when Ryan and I got home), and I'm not even going to pretend that I could do justice to Dawkin's incredible speaking. As a Christian, a scientist, and a naturalist, it was a very interesting lecture that left me contemplating the validity of my own beliefs on all three subjects. If you don't mind hearing a viewpoint that very well could be different than your own, I recommend you pick up one of his many books. No matter what your stand is on the issues that he brings up, I almost guarantee that they will leave you thinking in new ways.

At the end of the talk, Dawkins was asked (in more words than I care to write verbatim), "Is happiness more important than truth?" His answer was a firm NO. It was refreshing to hear. Again, I am a logical thinker, and understand that I am not so inclined to think emotionally, but the argument is a strong one. Again, it's the logical scientist in me, but it seems to me that only cowards ask for less than the truth, in that they can't accept the truth, or they are too comforted by their own perceived view of the world to want to know it. I much rather know the truth, and be able to react to it knowing that I am not acting on false evidence, than to remain either in the dark or with an incorrect understanding of the situation. I think that if we were to get into the habit of making truth more common, then we might get used to the idea of being happy with it, in which case, the question would be null anyways.

One of the main reasons that I love academia (particularly in the sciences) is because of the open minds that populate the field. So many of us get caught up in our own lives, our own ideas, our own cultures, and the safety blanket of our own religions that we never take the time to try to put ourselves in other's shoes or see things from a different perspective. Scientists, at least the good ones, don't have that luxury of staying safe in the world that we already know. Our very job descriptions are designed so that we delve deeper into the unknown, looking at our familiar world with fresh eyes, trying to discover how viruses evolve or why an antibody reaches its target antigen site on a protein. In keeping an open mind about our work, we tend to keep an open mind about other ideas, and we are not afraid to entertain ideas that are completely opposite to our own in hopes that either we'll find a stronger position on our own ideas, or that we will be given an even better one. Lectures like Dawkin's help us to keep our minds open, continually learning and adapting to our ever spinning planet.

I could go on all night and day about the lecture and what I learned, but I do have to get back to my work. I will leave you with another of Dawkin's quotes:

"What is the use of bringing a baby into the world if the only thing it does with its life is just work to go on living? If everything is judged by how 'useful' it is - useful for staying alive, that is - we are left facing a futile circularity. There must be some added value. At least a part of life should be devoted to living that life, not just working to stop it ending. This is how we rightly justify spending taxpayers' money on the arts. It is one of the justifications properly offered for conserving rare species and beautiful buildings. It is how we answer those barbarians who think that wild elephants and historic houses should be preserved only if they 'pay their way'. And science is the same. Of course science pays its way; of course it is useful. But that is not all it is. After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with colour, bountiful with life. Within decades we must close our eyes again. Isn't it a noble, an enlightened way of spending our brief time in the sun, to work at understanding the universe and how we have come to wake up in it? This is how I answer when I am asked - as I am surprisingly often - why I bother to get up in the mornings. To put it the other way round, isn't it sad to go to your grave without ever wondering why you were born? Who, with such a thought, would not spring from bed, eager to resume discovering the world and rejoicing to be a part of it?"

Cultural Explorations

On Friday night, I decided that I needed a little bit of culture in my life. After a year of pilfering from all of my Indian coworkers' lunches, I promised them that I was going to learn how to cook their spicy, exciting, vegetarian dishes. Although I could probably survive for the next few weeks on a stable diet of grapefruits and girl scout cookies (both tasty treats that are ripe and in season in Arizona), on Friday night I took a step towards broadening my culinary horizons. I walked into Lee Lee's Oriental Supermarket as the ONLY blonde haired blue eyed girl that has probably been in there in months, maybe ever. I hadn't realized how many Japanese, Chinese, Filipino, Korean, and Indian people lived in the greater Tempe area, but I think that they were all shopping there that night. I was able to find my guides, Mini and Srinath, as they were picking out bitter Indian squashes in the produce department. Ever since we returned from the ocean, I still find all grocery stores amazing. Just the amount and diversity of food overwhelms me after two months of the same macaroni and cheese. And if I thought Safeway was fun, it had no comparison to Lee Lee's. There were fruits and vegetables that I didn't even know existed, much less tasted, rows of tanks filled with several kinds of seafood ranging from catfish to crabs to octopus, meats and parts of animals that I didn't realize people ate, an entire refrigerated aisle of tofu, and aisles and aisles of every spice imaginable. If my stalwart guides had not been there to show me the way, I would have been miserably lost. They gallantly led me to the Indian section of the market, where I picked up mustard seeds, cumin, dhanajiru powder, garum masala, sooji, and all the fixin's to make fine, simple Indian meals. And a box of Wheatabix because I've never seen the infamous British cereal anywhere else in the States. Yum. I will keep you all informed as my talents blossom or fail miserably. Either way, it will be interesting, I am sure. I kept the cultural theme going strong the rest of the night. Megan had just recently returned from her own adventure in... let's just say an adventure abroad somewhere south of Florida. She is an AMAZING photographer, and had a party showcasing her talents. The slideshow of over 300 photographs (she took over 3,000, but only showed us the best) made the old, beautiful country really come to life, and since Megan also works at REI (dividends came out this week, woohoo!), there were MTBers, whitewater kayakers, and other adrenaline junkies in attendance. The combination of good photos, good people, and good rum kept the stories flowing freely all night long.

Saturday sucked. The weather was miserable, we broke the other three axles on the Jeep, we had flat tires left and right, the scenery was ugly, we got attacked by rattlesnakes and bobcats, and the bike trails were in horrible condition. We should have stayed home on the couch and watched TV and written blogs all day. If you have recently had ACL surgery, please stop reading here. You don't like reading my long blogs anyways, so go back to Guitar Hero and tell someone to grab some more ice... Ok, you know I'm lying because the only time I ever get flat tires is with a certain O of ODP, but I'm not completely wrong about the trail conditions. Read on at your own risk, ye of wounded knee.

For everyone else who has the ability to go out and play in the wild Arizona outdoors... why didn't we see you out there? One of the things that I really don't understand is how some people can live their entire lives within the city limits and never explore the incredible wonders that lie just beyond their doorstep. Angel and I headed out Saturday morning to our favorite town in Arizona for some mountain biking. I had never been to Prescott in the winter/spring so I wasn't sure what the weather was going to be like, but the day turned out to be absolutely perfect. It took a lot of willpower to keep us from turning into the Lynx Lake Recreation Area for a ride on our favorite Trail 305, but we decided that the world was much too big not to explore more of it, and we continued north past the town to Granite Basin. Neither of us had ever been that way, but when we stepped out of the Jeep and breathed in the crisp, pine scented air, we knew that we couldn't go wrong. After consulting with the map and taking in the beauty of the coniferous forest, we strapped on our helmets and took off on Trail 345. I'd heard great stories of the trails around the area, but not even a quarter of a mile in, I started to have my doubts. Rock gardens and sand/mud pits were the rule, not the exception, to the first part of the trail. I lost count of the number of times that I crashed into my handlebars in the first few miles, and my pelvis was less than amused. What the first few miles lacked in trail conditions, they made up in scenery. Sunlight streamed through the pines as we biked along between the towering boulders of Granite Mountain and the gurgling rapids of Mint Spring. After about five miles, the trail opened up to a wide plain with a commanding view of the surrounding mountains and valleys. It would have been a great ride if it wasn't for the cavalry of horses that must have come through before us. The trail was so pock marked with divots that as we rolled down a gentle hill, I thought that my arms were going to rattle off. I can't even imagine what Angel was going through without any suspension at all. We had gotten our fill of the equine plain after a mile, and turned around to try and find some real mountain biking trails. My bike fared a little bit better than Angel's, and by the time I got to the end of our horse trail, Angel was far behind. While I waited for her to catch up, I began talking to two older guys that had also been biking along the trail, hoping that they could give me some insight as to where the "amazing trails" that I had heard about were hidden. Although they didn't know too much about mountain biking, they did know the entire history of the area. I was fascinated to learn that Granite Mountain and the surrounding peaks are very sacred areas for many of the Indian tribes in the Southwest. Many of their important ceremonies and rites of passage were performed on top of the mountain, and the hills are full of petroglyphs and ruins of their old camps. By the time that Angel had caught up to us, I had a new respect for the land in which we were traveling. They told us more stories about the archaeological importance of Prescott and Arizona in general, including the legend of how the Hopi came into the world. The legend behind the sipapuni has fascinated me since the first time I heard the story when I was a kid, and hearing it again only made me want to visit the sacred spot in the Grand Canyon even more. After we had gotten our fill of the rich history of the land, Angel and I figured that even though the trails might not have been what we (ok, at least I) expected, we could make up for it with exploring. The guys pointed us in the direction of some petroglyphs, and we took off towards the opposite side of the mountain. After about a mile, we hid our bikes and bouldered our way down to a massive slab of flat granite that was etched with dozens of drawings. I read way too much as a kid not to be fascinated with the petroglyphs. It was like taking a step back in time. From our vantage point, all you could see around us was wilderness, as it would have appeared to the young Yavapai on his way to becoming a man. Snakes, scorpions, lizards, and bighorn sheep were carved into the rock along with other symbols depicting stories of the native peoples of Arizona. Sitting on top of the rock, you could feel the history of the land come to life as the wind whispered through the pines and the rustled through the grass. I'm normally fairly skeptical of vortexes and energy and such things, but the area certainly did have a special, sacred feel to it. I'm not sure if it was the fresh air or amazing views or just the adventure of it all, but you couldn't help but feel more alive out there. Angel and I continued to explore around the base of the mountain for the next few hours, bouldering up and over the piles of smooth granite, hopping across and back over Mint Spring, and crawling through the cracks in the boulders to find the source of the dozens of springs that flowed into the main creek. We could have spent the entire weekend climbing all over the mountain, but after a few hours, we extracted our bikes from their hiding places and headed back towards the lake, the canyon wrens providing a soundtrack to our ride. The trails that we took back (347 and 351) were much more pleasant than the first one, and we actually got some speed on the packed singletrack. After a full day out in the beautiful wilderness, we went back to town, busting through the swinging doors of The Palace saloon to get some well earned grub. The burgers and history of the place were both incredible. After one last stop at the world's best smelling coffee shop on the square, we reluctantly headed back to the Valley. Although the day was absolutely perfect, peaceful, and awe inspiring, I had to balance it with something wild and noisy, so I joined Jeff down at Crabby Don's for some live music in the evening. Kaura is an alternative band from L.A., and though the lead singer was a bit arrogant, his voice was great, and the music was really good. Overall, an amazing day.

On Sunday, Kohl and I took a trip out to Saguaro Lake to scope out some places for potential triathalon training (Tara really wants us to compete in the Taupo Ironman next year, and I am considering it at the moment as my next adventure). The drive to the lake itself was incredible. Although I've only lived in the desert for a year and a half, I was awed by the lush colors that lined the normally gray and brown desert along the highway. There were greens and purples and golds as far as we could see, right up to the foothills of the Tonto National Forest. When we got to Butcher Jones Recreation Area, we were already overwhelmed with the beauty of the desert in bloom. Hiking in it was almost too much for us, our eyes feasting on the colors that seemed to explode exponentially with every turn in the trail. The entire hills that under normal circumstances would have been barren with the exception of cholla were completely covered in a blanket of green, with Mexican gold poppies, lupine, and blue dicks adding bright patches of yellow, purple, and blue to the palette. Even though it was only about 70 out, I still took the opportunity to swim around the lake at the end of the trail. My arms went numb with the cold, which made my paddling a little bit difficult, but it was certainly refreshing, and the Arizona sun had me warmed up in no time. We spent the afternoon hiking up and down the flowery hills, taking tons of pictures, and just flopping down in the carpet of green, knowing that in a few months time, all of it will be a dried up desert dream. For now, though, it couldn't be more beautiful.

In the evening, I took one last opportunity to get some more culture in my life by fixing my first ever meal with tofu, compliments of my visit to Lee Lee's. I was pretty skeptical at first when I was cutting up the watery, flubbery soy curd, but my stir fry turned out brilliantly, so I really couldn't complain. It was probably more of a result of the hoisen sauce than my tofu cooking techniques, but nevertheless, Matoba (my Japanese mentor) would have been proud. It was a great way to end an incredible weekend, and now it's on to "cultures" of a different variety... I've got some agrobacterium colonies and ICON cultures that are actively producing proteins in my plants, and that should keep me busy until next weekend's explorations.