Recovering Memories

 Original Publication, Methow Valley News, September 23, 2020

When we evacuate, if there is time, I grab an irreplaceable family heirloom: a small doll with a crude button face, a dress made of tartan rags wrapped about a body formed by the wishbone of a hen. A small card tied about her neck bears a handwritten poem. In the tiny box with the tiny doll is a note written on onionskin paper.

My great-grandmother’s handwriting details the doll’s origins, tracing our family lines. When my parents passed away, their friends and family graciously sent me mementos that they thought I should have to remember my parents: photographs, stories, jewelry, tools — items that had an emotional and physical connection to my parents.

Woven baskets from this region have a similar meaning. Family origins and storylines are woven into the pattern with different colors, different plant materials. To make these artful and utilitarian baskets is no small feat. The process of gathering traditional materials of cedar root and wild cherry bark is increasingly restricted by property owners.

Construction and agricultural activities damage traditional areas where materials were once gathered. Between cultural changes that made weaving no longer a necessity, and landscape changes that limit weaving resources, the art and practice of Native American weaving is in danger of becoming a lost art. These family heirlooms are cultural artifacts, precious evidence of utilitarian practices and art of the first people who lived in their traditional homeland, the Methow Valley.

Labor Day fires burned more than just homes on the Colville Reservation. The fires moved so quickly that families had no time to save their own family heirlooms, cultural artifacts passed down through generations of the Methow people. The loss of home and hearth has a significant impact on elders’ health, livelihood, and capacity to pass on their language, traditions, and skills. For many years, these community members and Methow descendants have graciously and generously shared their stories with the Methow Valley Interpretive Center — helping to build educational bridges. They have given us a rich experience and education about this place and the people who came before us. Now, we must give back and support these elders.

Monetary donations can be made to the Methow Valley Interpretive Center earmarked as “Fire Relief.” All fire relief donations go directly to families in need. Information on how to donate can be found at www.methowvalleyinterpretivecenter.com. Please also consider cultural items that may be someone else’s family heirloom, and how much that would mean to the recipient.

A reminder: Peak bird migration is August-October. The National Audubon Society encourages people to help birds and reduce nighttime light pollution by turning out all unnecessary lights from 11 p.m. to 6 a.m. The Methow Dark Sky Coalition urges people to protect our night sky with environmentally responsible lighting by following International Dark-Sky Association guidelines for outdoor lighting. Be a good neighbor by protecting our dark skies. For information, see http://www.methowdarksky.org.

 

State Flower, State Tree, State Monster

Original publication, Methow Valley News, September 16, 2020

Conversations overheard at the bakery:

Him: We should probably get something for them.

Her: Honey, they don’t eat like us, not remotely anything like what we eat.

Him: You’re right, something with lots of seeds, then…

Also overheard at the bakery:

Him: I think we should get one of everything.

Her: We were sent here for breakfast burritos. Focus on the mission.

Him: That chocolate éclair looks like a burrito.

In other news, Washington state has a state flower, a state tree, and a state monster. On Aug. 26, 1970, Gov. Dan Evans issued this proclamation:

“Whereas, recent developments have shown that Washington State has only one true mysterious monster, the Great Sasquatch, and it is endangered of imminent extinction, and

“Whereas, we are the only state which is able to claim the Sasquatch as our own, Now, therefore, I Daniel J. Evans, by virtue and authority vested in me by RCW 00.00.000 do proclaim all Sasquachii within the border of our great state (and anywhere else) protected as a Washington State resource and be hereafter, the Official State Monster.”

For the trivia win: Bigfoot is the only state monster to ever have his very own syndicated TV show.

At my other job with the Bear Fight Institute, I open the mail. I do other highfalutin things, but the singular task of opening mail is germane to this story. (Side note: the Bear Fight Institute does not deal with the sparrings of ursae. The institute is a collaboration of scientists conducting planetary research.) An airmail letter from Britain contained a handwritten note requesting a professional opinion on the existence of the Loch Ness monster. I regret that I did not reply, “Dear Sir, as a research institute located in the Pacific Northwest, we can only speak on issues relating to Bigfoot.” That would have been a hairy tall tale, as the scientists at the Bear Fight Institute study geographic features, not mythical monsters.

In Barbara Davidson’s “The American Bestiary: The Most Famous Mythical Creature of Every U.S. State, Illustrated,” every state monster receives an illustrated caricature with a short biographical origin story. Included in “The American Bestiary” is a well-known monster from my childhood summer camp: Sharlie, a dinosaur-like creature dwelling beneath the waters of Payette Lake. Camp counselors would tell hushed and urgent tales of Sharlie, and why campers should never go swimming alone. Tell a kid not to go swimming alone because it’s “not safe” and they will ignore the boring adult instruction. Tell campers a mythical dragon snatches children down to a dark watery cave, and kids will religiously use the buddy system when swimming — not for safety, but to torture each other by screaming, “something just touched my leg!”

In winter, the McCall Ice Carnival always has a Sharlie carved in ice — a friendly-looking dragon, the length of frozen scales and claws looping the length of a city block, glistening in the winter sun.

Wyoming’s mythical creature is the jackalope. As the origin story goes, some guy (it’s always “some guy”) mounted antelope antlers atop a stuffed bunny and the bar décor became trendy. The viral myth has roots in a virus. Rabbits are susceptible to the Shope papillomavirus that causes carcinomas on the head and face. Carl Zimmer documents the virus in “A Planet of Viruses” — light reading about real monsters that will kill you. Fun trivia fact: There are more viruses than stars in the universe. I am never leaving the house… unless lured by a chocolate éclair from Cinnamon Twisp Bakery.

Sue Misao took another walkabout, gifting the world with this informative gem: https://www.heraldnet.com/news/not-all-who-wander-are-lost-but-we-definitely-were-and-are.

  

#Starentine

While we’re in quarantine, let’s all starentine! Head outside at the same time each night and log your experience on social media using the hashtag #starentine, along with thousands of other people around the world. 

Appreciating the night sky comes naturally, after all, as Carl Sagan so aptly stated, “we are all made of starstuff.” During this time of lockdown, less light pollution allows the vibrancy of meteors, planets, and star constellations to reach our eager eyes. Star gazing requires no specialized knowledge or expensive gear. Turn off the lights, call your neighbor and ask them politely to turn off their yard light, and step outside with your head tilted back and eyes wide open. Let us enjoy the night sky together, while we are all apart. 

This week is perfect for viewing the Lyrid meteor shower with mostly clear skies and the moon hidden in Earth’s shadow. The Lyrids can be seen throughout the end of April, but the peak viewing time is during the darkest hours of the new moon Wednesday night, April 22nd. The recommended viewing time is from midnight to just an hour before dawn. Look to the northeast, towards the Vega star in the Lyra constellation. To learn more about the Lyrid meteor shower, visit the American Meteor Society’s webpage, https://www.amsmeteors.org/

You may have already noticed a vibrant Venus. She is the brightest planet and the first to arrive to the party in the western sky shortly after the Sun takes his leave. If you rise an hour before dawn and look to the east, you’ll see Mars, Saturn, and Jupiter. Mars has a reddish hue from the rust colored dust coating his surface. Saturn, the gassiest planet, is golden from the mixture of hydrogen, helium, ammonia, phosphine, water vapor, and hydrocarbons. The largest planet in our solar system, Jupiter, is mostly viewed as creamy white with the ice crystals that make up its atmosphere. The four largest moons of Jupiter can be seen through a pair of binoculars. Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto are known collectively as the Galileans, named after Galileo Galilei. For more information on viewing planets in the night sky, visit https://nightsky.jpl.nasa.gov/planner.cfm

The best time to view the topography of the moon will be at the end of the month, on April 30th during the “quarter moon” phase, when half of the visible surface is lit. Using binoculars, gaze along the boundary line between the dark side and the sunlit side of the moon. Long shadows cast by mountain ranges and crater rims are easier to see on the moon’s surface when it is partially lit in either the crescent or half-moon phases.

Another kind of shooting star can be seen during the day, on long walks up sunny hillsides. In addition to shooting stars, the mountain buttercups, yellow bells, and blue bells are in full bloom, while the balsam root sunflowers are eclipsing the newly green hillsides. With upended daily routines, and social hangouts on hold, I feel my thoughts sluggish at times. But in the words of Henry David Thoreau, “Methinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow.” 

Wash your hands, take a walk, and look up once in a while. Be well, my friends.

Original publication, Methow Valley News, 22 April 2020

We are all made of star stuff

Everyone has a desire to connect with where their DNA originated from. Friday night discussions in the tap room circled around an upcoming vacation. The couple planned to follow the genetic signature revealed by their DNA test results. The journey to find our common origination source could go back even further.  Let’s start at the very beginning. I heard it’s a very good place to start.

In the first few seconds of the Big Bang, the simplest atom, hydrogen, formed. Hydrogen atoms were the only element for nearly 300 million years. Hydrogen atoms begin to stick together, forming large clusters.  As more and more hydrogen atoms joined the cluster, the internal temperature and pressure excited the particles to the extent that two hydrogen atoms crashed together in nuclear fusion. The protons of each hydrogen atom fused in the nuclei, forming a nucleus with two protons. Helium was born. This nuclear fusion released an astronomical amount of energy, converting some of the hydrogen mass into energy expressed as light, creating a star. Einstein’s shorthand for this process can be read as E=mc2.

Within the newborn star, nuclear fusion continued. Elements crashed together again and again, protons colliding into nuclei, combining to form more elements. Helium fused with hydrogen to form lithium, and on and on all the way up to iron, with 26 protons in its nuclei. At this moment, the star full of elements reached the end of its life and exploded in a supernova. The elements erupted forth in the form of stardust that traveled on stellar winds like little space dust bunnies, clumping together to form more stars. In all, 86 different elements are produced during the birth, life, and death of stars. 

All of these elements, these particles of stardust, make up the human body. There is oxygen in our lungs, carbon in our muscles, calcium in our bones, and iron in our blood. All of these elements were created inside a star before Earth was ever a twinkle in her daddy’s eye. Imagine, someone may have wished upon a star that you are made of.

This week of January is the perfect time of month for star gazing, if the skies are clear. The moon is positioned in between the Earth and Sun, showing us her dark side, and leaving only the light of the stars to reach our eyes at night. 

Look directly north around 7:30 p.m. to see the Double Cluster of stars. These star clusters lie between the constellations of Perseus and Cassiopia. The Double Cluster is visible by the naked eye in areas with little light pollution – like our own Methow Valley dark skies. In the northern sky this week, comet C/2017 T2 PanSTARRS will travel through the Cassiopeia constellation. With binoculars, the comet and perhaps its tail is dimly visible during the month of January. Peak visibility of the comet is during May 2020. 

Preserving our dark skies allows us to see the very stars from whence we came, and connect with the basic elements that we all share. As Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Only in the darkness can you see the stars.” 

This article originally appeared in Methow Valley News, 22 January 2020

Festivus, 2019

Brothers and sisters, let us gather together once again for the holiday that brings us all together, Festivus. The hallowed tradition of the Airing of Grievances connects us all in our mutual annoyance of all things annoying. Place a solemn gloved hand on a pole, and let us begin. 

Toilet paper rolls with one remaining square. Nothing ruins the sacred grounds of trust more than a previous user failing to replace the role of toilet paper. 

One headlight out. The dashboard of a car is filled with useless lights and warnings. I can readily see that my seatbelt is not fastened, I don’t need a flashing cartoon reminder accompanied by a loud ding. The ‘Check Engine’ light is too generic to be of any use. What I can’t readily see from behind the wheel of the car is that one headlight is out, causing a whole host of perilous dangers. We can put a man on the moon, but can’t develop a dashboard notification of a Popeye.

George RR Martin has yet to finish the final two books of his series, A Song of Ice and Fire. He’s procrastinated for over two decades, pumping out other novels, a daily blog, essays, and granting interviews. Instead of just sitting down to focus on finishing what I want, he just does what he wants. The audacity of being an independent human being. 

Drivers who drive too slowly when the roads are dry and weather’s awesome. Look buddy, I know you’re out on a scenic drive, but this two-lane highway is a conduit for people who have somewhere to be and we don’t all have the luxury of going 35 in a 60 zone. That’s what the back roads are for. Take that whimsical drive over to the back road. 

Drivers who drive too fast when the roads are nasty and the weather’s thick. Look buddy, I know the speed limit is 60, but there’s people driving around with one headlight out and nobody can see more than ten feet in front of the car. Slow your roll to 35, and let’s try to live until Georgie-boy cranks out the final two novels of A Song of Ice and Fire. 

Brimmed hats indoors on someone’s head. Do they need a ‘check engine’ light on the brim to remind them to remove their hat? Or should I just make a ding noise next to them until said hat is removed?

Speaking of hats – outdoor lights with no lamp shade. The light just spills out all over the place, lighting up other neighbor’s windows and copious amounts of sky. Can you afford to light the whole neighborhood? Nobody wants your extra light. 

Vacuums with bagless canisters and hinged openings on both the top and bottom. Having two hinged openings on one bagless cannister opens up a whole dusty bin of opportunity for failure of multiple hinges. Nothing aggrieves me more than a dust bin unexpectedly opening from the bottom to release all the dirty contents on a freshly vacuumed floor. 

Happy Festivus! 

This article originally appeared in the Methow Valley News, 11 December 2019

Harts Pass to Grasshopper Pass

Original publication, Methow Valley News, September 4, 2019

The holiday weekend crowds were delightfully sparse along the Pacific Crest Trail between Harts Pass and Grasshopper Pass. A parking spot was available, there were no lines at the outhouse, and the hikers were stretched few and far between.

All the elevation was gained via Harts Pass Road 5400. The road climbs above 6000’ in elevation into the heart of the North Cascades, where Hart’s Pass accesses a network of trails into the vast Pasayten Wilderness. 

Hart’s Pass is the highest road in the State of Washington. Built in 1893, the route gave access to gold and silver mines and over 1,000 permanent residents. According to “High Hopes and Deep Snows, How Mining Spurred Development of the Methow Valley,” author Marcy Stamper states the town of Barron near Harts Pass served 2,500 miners with a post office, a butcher shop, a trading company, several restaurants, gambling establishments, and “dancing women.” The road is named after Thomas Hart, the mine owner who built the road to transport equipment and ore. When the gold ran out, so did the people. The town of Barron was hastily abandoned in 1907, people left just as quickly as they first appeared, leaving tools of trade and personal belongings behind. Sally Portman, in her book, “The Smiling Country” relays the humorous account of sisters Ruth and Florence McLean camping up at Hart’s Pass with their family in 1910:

              “The two sleuths dove into some old boxes left in haste by former dance hall girls and delightedly lifted out fancy-lady dresses…Florence put on one and started running as fast as she could up the path. When asked why she was running away, Florence answered, ‘I heard this dress belonged to a fast woman and I’ll bet I’m just as fast as any of them.’”

All that remains today are the views that leaves one either speechless or reaching for superlatives. Summer flowers are still in limited bloom, while other blooms have dried to perfection on the stem. The larch will turn golden in a few short weeks. The hike from Hart’s Pass to Grasshopper Pass is relatively easy and flat, following the ridgeline along the Pacific Crest Trail. To get there, travel Lost River road from Mazama to the end, continue the gravel forest service road 5400. At roughly 13 miles on 5400, the road forks. To the left is Meadows Campground, straight on is Hart’s Pass. There are many trailheads and views at Hart’s Pass, but for this hike, I recommend turning left and heading towards Meadows Campground. At another fork in the road, the left leads to the campground, while the right fork continues to Brown Bear Trailhead. Take the right fork and park at the Brown Bear Trailhead. 

Follow the trailhead to the Pacific Crest Trail mark. A large sign indicates left to Glacier Pass, and right to the Canadian Border. Turn left. Grasshopper Pass is 4.7 miles from this trailhead. A detailed trail description with mileage and points of interest can be found at https://www.wta.org/go-hiking/hikes/grasshopper-pass. 

Shock Waves, Sound Waves

Original publication, Methow Valley News, September 11, 2019

That was a lovely little storm, wasn’t it? I have not enjoyed a raucous storm in years. Five years, to be precise. But this time was different. I thoroughly reveled in the cacophony of light and sound. Perhaps because there was an accompaniment of rain, or maybe because it is September, and the leaves are starting to turn, a delightful presage to snow.

In the morning after the storm, I strolled through the woods. My hands slid over the tops of heavy sodden shrubs, releasing a cascade of raindrops from the golden red leaves to fall once more to the ground. I thought of a certain poem, expressing the angst of a summer storm, versus the sigh of relief exhaled when a storm ushers in autumn. 

Mother, Summer, I - Philip Larkin

My mother, who hates thunder storms,
Holds up each summer day and shakes
It out suspiciously, lest swarms
Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there;
But when the August weather breaks
And rains begin, and brittle frost
Sharpens the bird-abandoned air,
Her worried summer look is lost,
And I her son, though summer-born
And summer-loving, none the less
Am easier when the leaves are gone
Too often summer days appear
Emblems of perfect happiness
I can't confront: I must await
A time less bold, less rich, less clear:
An autumn more appropriate.

Is a thunderstorm a power anthem of Mother Nature? A single bolt of lightning travels 200,000 mph and is hotter than 50,000 degrees Fahrenheit. The sun is practically frigid in comparison at slightly over 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

Lightning occurs during a dance of molecules and temperature. As water vapor rises into the heights of the atmosphere, it cools and forms ice. As more molecules join the party, they dance with a greater frenzy. Bumping and grinding, these ice crystals collide and build up an electrical charge. Positively charged ions are lightweights, and rise to the top of the cloud. Negatively charged particles carry more weight, and drop to the bottom of the cloud. When these particles build up to a tipping point, a bolt of lightning streaks between the positive and negative charges, bringing equilibrium to the cloud once more…and the dance continues. If there are positive charges on the ground below, then a lighting bolt of energy will occur between the ground and the cloud. But you already knew all this.

The extreme heat of the lightning bolt, five times greater than the sun, attempts to expand into the cold air of the cloud. But, traveling at 200,000 mph, there is no time or space for the release of energy to expand. The force of energy results in a shock wave that rips open a tunnel through the cold air. As the tunnel collapses, the shock wave is then expressed as a sound wave. Rolling thunder that goes on and on is an audible signature of the length of the tunnel as it closes behind the shock wave created by super-heated lightning bolts. And now you know a thing, that perhaps you already knew.

First People of the Methow, an informative guide

A beautiful and informative map featuring the First People of the Methow Valley is now available at the Methow Valley Interpretive Center (MVIC).

The map features trade routes, settlements, and important fishing and gathering areas along the main corridor of the Methow Valley, along with ten informational stops along the way. Users are encouraged to visit the interpretive sites noted on the map: the Methow Monument in Pateros, McFarland Creek Fishing area, the Methow Valley Interpretive Center and Native Plant Gardens on the TwispWorks campus, the Twisp Ponds Discovery Center, the Cottonwood Trail, the new Homestream Park in Winthrop, the Interpretive Loop Trail at Sun Mountain, the Sa Teekh Wa Trail in Winthrop, and Early Winters Campground.

The map includes a geological timeline from when the Methow Valley was covered in glaciers up to a mile thick. As the ice receded, the First People settled throughout the Methow Valley, where food and cultural resources were available. They established several trails and trade routes and traded goods with the coastal and plains regions.  The descendants of these First People, the Methow, continue to live in this region - teaching and practicing cultural traditions passed down through hundreds of generations.

Featured on the map is an introduction to the Coyote Story and a large artful representation by Virgil “Smoker” Marchand, filled with images of important plants and animals to the First People. One of the Coyote Stories, as recorded by Ella E. Clark, and featured at the Fort Okanogan Interpretive Center reads, “Old-One told Coyote to teach the Indians the best way to do things and the best way to make things. Life would be easier and better for them when they were no longer ignorant. Coyote then traveled the earth and did many wonderful things.”

The map was created by a talented team of volunteers, professionals, and Methow descendants: Randy Lewis, Crystal Miller, Arnold and Gail Cleveland, Chuck Borg, Mary Yglesia, Julie Grialou, and myself, Joanna Bastian. Funding came from two private and anonymous donors: one through the Methow Conservancy, and the other through MVIC. MVIC served as fiscal sponsor. Confederated Colville Tribes (CCT) History/Archaeology program provided oversight and editing. Tara Gregg of Terra Firma Design was the graphic designer. Images and artwork were donated by the History/Archaeology Program of the CCT, MVIC, Methow Conservancy, Okanogan County Historical Society, artist Virgil "Smoker" Marchand, David Moskowitz, Tom Forker, Solveig Torvik, Randy Lewis, and the Miller family. The map was approved by the Colville Business Council. 

With less than 2,000 to distribute, distribution points are limited to a small sampling of school districts, museums and libraries in Okanogan County. The map is available at these locations: Pateros Museum and Public Library, in Twisp at the MVIC, Methow Arts, and the Public Library, in Winthrop at the Shafer Museum, Public Library, and Methow Conservancy; in Omak and Okanogan public libraries and the Okanogan County Historical museum, at the Fort Okanogan Interpretive Center, and at the Colville Tribal Museum at Coulee Dam.

The First People Map will be distributed to three pilot school districts in Okanogan County, with established MVIC field trip programs. As funding becomes available for more prints, distribution will grow to include all nine school districts in the county. Donations to the MVIC are welcome to help with these efforts.

Visit the MVIC website  http://www.methowvalleyinterpretivecenter.com/ for information on locations highlighted on the map, including trail descriptions and directions.

Methow Valley Interpretive Center, located on the TwispWorks campus in Twisp, features in-depth exhibits of the unique geology and natural history of the Methow Valley, and pre-European native inhabitants. While visiting the informational points along the map, please respect the land and personal property. Do not disturb archaeological sites and leave only footprints, take only memories. 

The MVIC Map point of contact is David H. LaFever - Methow Valley Interpretive Center Education Coordinator, (509) 919-0686, dhlafever@gmail.com.

Happy Asteroid Anniversary!

Original publication, Methow Valley News, June 12, 2019

Pack up the car, pack up the kids, pack up the sunscreen, broad-brimmed hats, sunglasses and water bottles and sally forth to where the Methow River meets the mighty Columbia.

Saturday, June 22, is the sixth annual Salmon Bake and Cultural Celebration at the Methow Monument in Pateros Memorial Park. Festivities start at noon. Randy Lewis will serve up traditional flame-grilled Copper River salmon. Lunch includes salads and SweetRiver Bakery rolls, for a suggested donation of $10. Cultural demonstrations in the park will include basket weaving, beading, canoes, music and more. There will be a silent auction and raffle with all proceeds from the event to benefit programs offered by Pateros-Brewster Community Resource Center. The Salmon Bake and Cultural Celebration promises to be a fun event to celebrate our Native American neighbors and support community programs.

Summer solstice is right around the corner. I have mixed feelings about the longest day of the year, the changing of the seasons. On one hand, the summer solstice is the one day of the year with the most hours of sunlight – a positive, solar-charged, illuminating event. However, it is the longest day of the year – and the word “longest” has never impressed me. World’s longest limo, world’s longest hot dog, world’s longest tapeworm … these translate as “impossible turning radius,” “indigestion,” and “gross.” The word “longest” is laden with a long list of negative connotations. At the end of a tortuous mind-numbing work or travel day, no one says, “That was the longest day,” with any modicum of enthusiasm. I’ll have to travel to the southern hemisphere to celebrate the winter solstice, I suppose.

A tragic thing that more than one person has said to me is, “I don’t believe in the solstice.” Instead of patiently explaining how a spherical Earth rotates around the sun, I usually just reply, “Don’t say that out loud, it makes you look stupid.” Here we live in the age of information and Google and someone doesn’t believe in a physical event they can view with their own eyes. I hope they are enjoying their foot-long hotdog on the longest day of the year.

I must admit that any wondrous reminder that we are the smallest part of large universe fills me with joy. Our tiny green-and-blue rock is situated in the most perfect position of all the planets to receive just enough light and warmth to foster life, but not to toast our existence into burnt bits.

Speaking of burnt toast, sometime between June and July is the 66-million-year anniversary of when an asteroid toasted the dinosaurs. Based on analysis of pollen in fossils found at the impact site, scientists know that the asteroid impact occurred between the flowering of lotus and water lilies.

Perhaps on this very day, 66 million years ago, a 6-mile wide asteroid named Baptistina hurtled towards Earth at 20,000 miles an hour and barreled into the surface. The impact liquified rock, which turned into steam. The resulting plume exploded into space, and then cooled and re-condensed into tiny droplets of glass. The hell balls spread out through the atmosphere and creating the greatest meteor shower no one has ever seen, except for the dinosaurs in a few hot moments. You can see these glass balls, aka pseudomorphed tektites, embedded in a patch of mudstone from the Powder River Basin in Wyoming. All the details can be heard in “Dinopocalypse Redux,” a RadioLab podcast found here: www.wnycstudios.org/story/dinopocalypse-redux.

Happy Asteroid Anniversary season, and Happy Solstice!

Bad Advice for Good People

This article first appeared in the Methow Valley News, May 22, 2019

This time of year is filled with celebration vibes, and a wagon load of well-intentioned advice. People are either walking a graduation line or down a wedding aisle. Tables are laden with iced cakes, floral arrangements and congratulation cards scribbled with lines of well-wishes and advice.

I tried to compile a list of sound, excellent, life-skill advice for this week’s column. But, all that came to mind were the reams of terrible advice I received from well-meaning people. What follows is bad advice for good people.

“That plaid couch is so you.” No, it is not you. You are a colorful being with many textures and patterns. Do not define yourself by a patterned fabric that you will be stuck with for the next decade. Avoid print-patterned furniture at all costs, because, five years from now you will abhor that plaid couch and wish you had saved yourself some hard-earned cash by going with a neutral tone futon and a few sporty throw pillows.

“Say yes to everything for one year.” No. Do not say yes to everything. In college I had a semi-roommate who convinced me to say yes to every opportunity, including dating, for one year. Here’s how that year went: fencing lessons, banana-flavored everything, ballroom dancing, a plaid couch, a tense moment at gunpoint on a beach in Mexico, 37 awkward dates wherein I learned what I definitely did not want in a life-partner, and a brown paper bag filled with 52 ska CDs. I don’t even like ska. The only high point of that year was learning a few parrying techniques that I’ve never used again.

“Make direct eye contact to show confidence.” Eh … within reason. Half of the uncomfortable situations in my life have occurred because I made direct eye contact and the person on the receiving end mistook the look for one of interest. This has led to several marriage proposals from complete strangers, an offer to kick my assets, unwanted windshield cleaning at stoplights, and TMI from seatmates on trains, planes and automobiles.

Charcoal-activated anything. Charcoal belongs in potting soil and barbecue pits, not in any body part with a mucus lining and surfaces sensitive to abrasives. Activated charcoal is used to treat drug overdoses. It works because drugs and toxins chemically bind to the charcoal and leave the body. It’s become more popular to take activated charcoal as a supplement, or for mild discomfort. According to WebMD, activated charcoal can cause gastrointestinal blockages, and will reduce or prevent absorption of other medications including pain killers, heart medication, asthma medication and anti-depressants. As an alternative to toothpaste, charcoal use is discouraged by scientific evidence. A recent study published in the British Dental Journal reveals findings that activated charcoal causes tooth decay and staining.

In other news you didn’t want to hear: The Pateros Super Stop gas station has declined to continue offering the Methow Valley News to customers. If you have an idea of a local distributor please email editor@methowvalleynews.com.

There is a bright side! In an effort to support readers in the lower valley, Methow Valley News is offering a $5 discount on subscriptions to any Pateros address. This discount will be honored through the end of June 2019.

Wells Wildlife Area

This article first appeared in the Methow Valley News, April 10, 2019

Any fan of Steve Martin’s hilarious comedy, “The Jerk,” will remember his uncontrollable excitement when the new phone books arrived.

I re-enact that scene every spring, with slightly different words. “The new blossoms are here! The new blossoms are here!” Or, “The birds are back! The birds are back!” Or, my favorite sentiment, “The trails are open! The trails are open! Things are going to start happening for me now.”

Some of the lower-elevation trails are ready for traipsing, including the Golden Doe area south of Twisp. That trail has everything: buttercup blossoms, mountain views and wetlands filled with birds. A recent foray yielded views and songs from redwing blackbirds, spotted towhees and western meadowlarks. For details on the Golden Doe unit of the Methow Wildlife Area, access the Lower Valley column from last year.

If you are looking for a cure to cabin fever, wide open spaces with long-range views are the balm-diggity. (I just made that term up, patent pending.) For views of the Cascades, a symphony of bird songs and glimpses of the mighty Columbia, I highly recommend an excursion to the Central Ferry Canyon Unit of the Wells Wildlife Area. Over a thousand acres — 1,914 to be exact — of shrub steppe and mixed forest provide the perfect backdrop to birdsong resonance in the mornings and late afternoons.

To find the Central Ferry Canyon Unit of the Wells Wildlife Area, cross the Columbia River at the bridge in Brewster. You can’t miss it. It’s the only bridge in Brewster. Turn right on Crane Orchard Road. Travel for 3.3 miles and turn left on Central Ferry Canyon Road, a well-maintained dirt road. Follow Central Ferry Canyon Road for a little over a mile until entering the Wells Wildlife Area, marked by a sign.

In the wildlife area there are three different parking areas off the main road, all marked by Discover Pass signs. Not all areas have maintained trails. For a distinct jeep track trail, I recommend following Central Ferry Canyon road up towards the ridge and using the third parking area found on the left-hand side of the road, below the tree line. For more information on the Central Ferry Canyon Unit of the Wells Wildlife Area, visit https://wdfw.wa.gov/places-to-go/wildlife-areas/central-ferry-canyon-wildlife-area-unit.

For those who enjoy a picturesque walk amongst gravestones, Packwood Memorial Cemetery is located at the top of the ridge, within the pine trees.

Finish up your excursion with a meal at Camperos Mexican Restaurant. The colorful décor is as much a feast for the senses as is the menu. The walls are a canvas of brilliant murals depicting orchard life in Brewster, and a nod to Mexican ancestry and culture. Camperos is located at 301 E. Main Ave. in Brewster. Or, get a feast to go from La Milpa, featuring amazing fresh-baked Mexican pastries, and family platters from their deli. La Milpa is located at 324 E. Main Ave. The chili rellenos will have you channeling Billy Idol, “More! More! More!”

Water Dance

This article first appeared in the Methow Valley News, March 27, 2019

It must be the end of winter.

All the tell-tale signs are here. Robins nibble on dried-up berries and rosehips at the edges of the yard. The dogs are shedding their winter coats, leaving tufts of hair like a breadcrumb trail wherever they go. The roof shrugs off layers of snow and ice, with a cacophony of drips throughout the morning followed by thunderous slides that shake the house in the afternoon. The winter food storage, so plentiful at the end of harvest, is nearly gone but for a few shriveled carrots, a handful of sprouting potatoes and one lone jar of tomato sauce.

Afternoon mud puddles transform overnight into crystalline shards of intricate geometric ice castles, glistening in the morning sun. As the day warms, ice crystals melt into rivulets that trickle down the walkway, joining other trickles in a rush to the creek that soon will become a roaring torrent, rolling down to the river in a rush towards the open ocean. As the poet Mary Oliver so wisely observed, “It is the nature of stone to be satisfied. It is the nature of water to want to be somewhere else.”

In our valley of plenty, it’s easy to take water for granted. According to an article published in the Los Angeles Times last week, 1.6 million people in the United States don’t have access to clean drinking water. Recently I traveled to the Bahamas — where there is no surface water and the freshwater resources are finite and vulnerable. The tap water on the island was filled with salt and sulfur. After a salt-shower, I would wet a washcloth with bottled water to rinse the residual salt off my body. My travel water bottle was useless as the only available drinking water came in plastic bottles. As we were instructed on the dangers that sunscreen posed to coral reefs, I couldn’t help but think of all those plastic bottles, and the impact on the fragile eco-system of the limestone and coral islands.

Returning home, I realized the stark differences between the water-rich and the water-poor. I ran four loads of laundry, took a shower, mopped the floors, filled the water fountain, turned on the humidifier, and filled the dogs’ water bowl with the ease of rotating a handle. Filling a quart jar with well water from the tap, I drunk deeply.

People in Flint, Michigan, still don’t have clean drinking water. An interactive map at www.drinkingwateralliance.org tracks all the areas in the United States with unsafe drinking water, and how the community has responded, or has failed to respond.

All these watery ruminations drove me to seek out the poems of Mary Oliver, who died early this year.

What is the vitality and necessity

Of clean water?

Ask a man who is ill, and who is lifting

His lips to the cup.

Ask the forest.

“Water,” by Mary Oliver

Whales hear shapes, bees dance maps, and plants eat sunshine. What happens when it ends?

This article first appeared in the Methow Valley News, March 13, 2019

Long walks in the woods with friends can lead to fascinating conversations.

On a recent sunny day, our footsteps crunched over freshly fallen snow. A group of friends shared how they each experienced listening to ensemble music. Some choose to close their eyes and picture a story unrolling, like a movie reel. Others enjoy the technical aspect of the music, how the different instruments emerge in solo or interact with others. Individual notes tracking over a range of scales, sending waves and ripples of sound through a concert hall.   

The conversation stuck with me for days, as I thought about how other living creatures experience sound, like whales, for instance. The ocean’s dark abyss limits eyesight, while water dilutes scent. With limited sight, and muffled scents, whales must depend on other sensory skills. Soundwaves move faster in water than in air, and the ear bones in whales are highly developed to process sound. Whales vocalize ultra-sonic pitches that travel through water and echo back, allowing whales to “see” their environment using echolocation. Whales depend primarily on sound to navigate, feed, and socialize.

Bees also depend on communication to navigate, feed and socialize. A scout bee will return to the hive and share her findings in a detailed “waggle dance.” She dances out a map indicating the length of distance to the nectar source, the richness of the nectar, and the direction in which to travel. Her co-workers will watch the dance once, and immediately fly off in the direction indicated.

Plants that are visited by the bees have their own unique way of processing food. They absorb sunlight, convert the energy to sugar, and grow into a food source to sustain other living creatures. Plants breathe in carbon dioxide and breathe out oxygen, a key component of our own survival as humans.

Whales hear shapes, bees dance maps, and plants eat sunshine.

Plants are made of sunshine and air; humans are made of water. Sixty-five percent of the human body is water, the same salinity as the sea. Soundwaves move through us as we dance our own maps. Sunlight makes us happy, and our bones strong.

What a wonderful world we live in. A symphony of sights, sounds and smells that nourish our bodies, and engage our senses. And yet, there is the sense that the slightest tremble of butterfly wings will set calamity in motion and disrupt the entire balance.

Here’s where it gets dark.

Whales throw themselves ashore to escape something terrifying they’ve “seen.” Bees suffer colony collapse under a storm of pesticides, damaged eco-systems and mono-crops. Just as air pollution causes respiratory disease in humans, dirty air kills plants. 

What if we humans were the proverbial butterfly, the cause of massive disruption? Industries contaminate the water that fills our bodies. Pollution disrupts photosynthesis, killing off pollinators and plants. The delicate interplay of clean water and clean air is essential to whale, bee, plant and human survival.

Real protection comes in the form smart legislation to manage resources and curb pollution. Liberty Bell High School students interning with the Methow Valley Citizens Council researched climate bills and armed themselves with knowledge. This week, that student envoy met with elected representatives in the Washington state Legislature to advocate for action on climate change. We should follow their lead, and demand an effective strategic plan from our representatives that addresses the human causes of climate damage and provides real solutions.

Preparing for Snowmageddon - Methow Edition

This article originally appeared in the Methow Valley News, Feb 13, 2019

While visiting family below the Mason-Dixon line, a curious cousin leaned forward to ask an important question. In a whisper normally reserved for wakes and hospitals, she asked me what winter was like. If she were wearing pearls, she would have clutched them while asking. Instead, she put a hand to her chest in a dramatic motion.

I told her winter was wonderful. I described trees flocked with snow against the bluest winter sky, mist rising from the river in the crisp dawn morning, and sunlight glittering like diamonds over a snow-filled meadow. She looked doubtful. I handed her my phone, and for the next hour she flipped through winter photos, growing more and more impressed. At one point she told her husband, “Honey, we need to visit her in winter.”

I thought of her this weekend as I began preparations for the winter storm that would shut down multiple highways, bury cars and knock out power throughout the state.

To prepare for a huge snowstorm, the first thing to do was to put my affairs in order. By that I mean eating tacos at El Sabor Norteño.

After my tacos were all ingested, and affairs in order, I took a ski lesson from Ray at Sun Mountain Lodge. I’m a terrible skier with no coordination or athletic skill. I figured with all this snow on the way, I better figure out how to get from point A to B with my boots locked onto long narrow boards. Ray gave excellent guidance, and with some pointers on kicking, gliding, and a lesson on how to stop, I felt ready for snowmageddon.

The next stop was Hank’s Harvest Foods. I had to stock up on macaroni and cheese, chocolate, and donate to a good cause. When you use your own reusable bag, the cashier will give you a wooden nickel to donate to a local nonprofit. At the front of the store are large glass jars for eight local nonprofits in the valley. Drop your wooden nickel into any jar of your choosing, and Hank’s will donate a real nickel to that nonprofit. Donate to a good cause and reduce waste at the same time, all while stocking up for the next big storm.

After winter clouds disgorged their load of snow, we strapped on skis and floated through a hushed landscape. Tree limbs shrugged burdens of show, springing back into formation in a cloud of sparkling ice crystals. Throngs of birds serenaded the forest — flitting from tree to tree as we glided our way below.

I’ll take the red cheeks, the cold fingers and numb toes for these fleeting moments of winter beauty above the Mason-Dixon line.

A Festivus for the Rest of Us

This article originally appeared in the Methow Valley News on November 28, 2018

In this season of Gratitude, it is important to keep the balance in the universe by practicing the age-long tradition of Festivus - the Airing of Grievances.

Let us begin.

• Wasps – I would be grateful for weather that is too cold for the little buggers, but now I’m vacuuming up their carcasses as they fall out of the woodwork to die. They may be less annoying now, but they are creating more housework. I just cleaned these floors, and there are three more dead bodies that appeared.
• Dead bugs on the carpet. If only they would be considerate enough to stay within the walls when they die during the chilly months. Less vacuuming, more insulation. Win – win.
• Junk mail masquerading as real mail. I just spent two whole minutes opening an envelope that looked important. All I got was a papercut and an added chore of recycling. That is two minutes of my life that I will never get back. Who knows what number of unidentified germs just jumped off the envelope and into a freshly sliced papercut?
• Molded plastic packaging – nothing is more irritating than to realize that the knife you needed to purchase because you have no knife is encased in an impenetrable package that requires a knife to open the package that holds the knife you need. Three entire minutes of my life wasted, and an open wound from jagged plastic covered in countless germs. Between this and junk mail I am now out a perfectly good five minutes and have developed a case of gangrene. Dear manufacturers, just pack those things in a little recyclable cardboard box.
• Movies with no plot line. That was two hours of my life that I will never get back. However, as there were no gashing wounds involved, this grievance is slightly lower on the list than junk mail and molded plastic packaging.
• People who claim they don’t eat vegetables – they might as well announce their constant state of constipation and a degraded immune system. It’s disgusting. Eat a vegetable.
• Coats that don’t have that little loop of fabric that goes on a coat hook. What are we, savages?
• People who complain about loud chewers. There are people starving in this world who have nothing to eat at all. Celebrate that someone is eating. Unless, of course, it’s a crinkly bag of potato chips – in that case, hand them a bowl.
• Crinkly bags. Whoever makes these should be stuck next to a crinkly bag snacker in a movie theater, watching a movie without a plotline. Boxes are quieter. Boxes are great. Boxes are recyclable and don’t result in open gaping wounds! What do you have against boxes?
• Socks that ball up underfoot in a boot. What is point of that elastic sock top if not to hold up a sock? It’s like a coat without a coat-hook loop.

To practice an Airing of Grievances, find a pole. Any pole will do: telephone pole, fence pole, flag pole, or even a pole dancing pole, and with your gloved hand placed upon the frozen pole, air a grievance. Happy Festivus!

A Heart Shaped Tale

This article originally appeared in the Methow Valley News, 14 November 2018

Meet Crick, aka “Fat Daddy”. Tree climber, mouse hunter, pink toed, yellow eyed, black cat with nine lives and a crooked tail that ends in a heart-shaped spiral. A heart shaped tale, if you will.

Crick went missing three years, 250 miles, and three moves ago – and last week he miraculously reunited with his family here in the Methow Valley. I met Crick in Mandy Shoger’s living room. He gazed lovingly at her and purred while she stroked his fur and told as much of his story as she could piece together.

Seventeen years ago, Mandy decided to procure two kittens to keep her older cat, Natalie, company.  She found littermates Crick and Roderigo at a shelter that micro-chipped each adopted animal. The shelter workers named Crick for his crooked spiral shaped tail he was born with. Crick and Roderigo settled in, keeping Natalie company, and the rest of the neighborhood well entertained.

“He’s always been a sweet boy,” Mandy explained, “he went for walks around Ballard with us.” Crick and Roderigo found other ways to enjoy the sights and sounds of Ballard. They periodically climbed a tree and stepped out onto the roof of a neighborhood gym, enjoying the bustling view of the sidewalk below. When they tired of that entertainment, they struggled to get back down. Firefighters from the station across the street extended their tall ladders to the curious cats, recording the rescue and sharing the PR video across media venues. Crick and Roderigo never tired of climbing the tree to enjoy the view from the roof of the gym, and the firefighters seemed to enjoy taking a break out of their day to rescue the cats. “It happened several times,” Mandy said, rolling her eyes. “I was always taking brownies or doughnuts to the fire station.”

After over a decade, Mandy moved from Ballard to Green Lake. Unfortunately, after a few weeks, the landlord decided to sell the first rental Mandy moved into and she had to quickly find another place. Mandy and the cats moved to a less than ideal home. “It was a busy area,” she said, “lots of businesses, a freeway on-ramp, and many parking garages.” Crick decided to take a stroll one morning, and failed to return. Mandy put up fliers all over the neighborhood. For months she walked in every direction, calling his name. She joined multiple facebook groups to ask for help finding Crick. “There were a lot of false hopes,” she recalled, “lots of black cats were found, but none with his distinctive crooked tail.”

A year ago, Mandy moved to the Methow Valley with her husband Nate. “I felt so bad leaving, what if Crick was still out there?” After two years of searching, Mandy accepted that Crick was gone, but still had this feeling he was alive. She dreamt of him often.

Two weeks ago, Mandy received a phone call from Roosevelt Station Vet Care in Seattle. A man named Ed had brought Crick into the office to treat an ear infection. After a routine microchip scan, Ed was surprised to learn the cat, who he had called “Fat Daddy”, had a microchip. He thought Fat Daddy was a stray.

The vet office did a diligent search for Crick’s owner, but immediately came up against a wall. The seventeen-year-old microchip was made long before cell phones, and the company no longer produced the chip. The vet office was able to locate the manufacturer who still had Mandy’s name on record. Luckily, Mandy is a successful artist with a unique last name. The top 40 links in a Google search all yield Mandy’s Foxtail Pottery art and contact information. The top link was to her TwispWorks studio.

Ed agreed to meet Mandy for a reunion with Fat Daddy Crick. The good man bought Crick toys, fed him, provided vet care, and even built Crick a little insulated hut. Mandy was certain that Ed had bonded with Crick and she didn’t want to put extra stress on the cat, but Ed insisted that she take him home. “Are you sure you are ok with me taking him?” she asked. Ed shrugged and in a thick English accent proclaimed Crick loud and annoying. This whole time, Crick was living just nine blocks away from where he first went missing.

On the coffee table in front of the couch where Crick snuggled with Mandy, sat an open box from TabCat. Collar tags and a radio receiver are a more immediate method of keeping track of the cat with a heart-shaped crick at the end of his tail.

Life Cycles of Plants and Languages

This article originally appeared in the Methow Valley News, 10 October 2018

It was an honor to meet Sandra Warrior Pistol Bullet, a student intern at the Methow Valley Interpretive Center. Her story was featured on the front page of the Methow Valley News last week, written by Ashley Ahearn. To celebrate Sandra’s internship, the Methow Valley Interpretive Center and the Methow Native plant nursery hosted a small gathering last week. Her contributions to the community include new cultural exhibits at the MVIC and development of the Cottonwood Trail.

The conversation with Sandra is still churning through my thoughts, days later. A student at Wenatchee Valley College and a member of the Colville Confederated Tribes, Sandra is studying both ecology restoration and language revitalization. Her passion for both fields was clearly articulated as she spoke about reconnecting with her own heritage through her studies of traditional plant use and language revitalization.

As we strolled along the Cottonwood Trail, Sandra talked about her work these past summer months. The breadth of knowledge that people possessed about which unique plants to process and use for building materials, shelf-stable food, and medicine is simply astounding. There were eight different varieties of serviceberry in the Methow Valley alone. Each variety, had to be stored and dried using different methods.

As part of the project, Sandra focused on the Salish names for traditional-use plants. Salish is a group of languages in the Pacific Northwest. There are 23 distinct dialects separated by geographic features, for instance, the Entiat, Chelan, Methow, and Okanogan dialects are all unique forms of Salish. Similar to the Romance languages and the differences between French, Spanish, and Italian.

Languages and plants are closely intertwined. Dialects and species evolve differently from each other based on geographic location. Phonemes can be strung together to build knowledge and heal relationships. Plants can be processed to build a home and nourish a body. Every culture has a tradition of coming together over a meal to exchange words. Languages grow and morph over time and if not tended, die. So, to, plants.

The Cottonwood Trail is located 3.6 miles north of Twisp on the Old Twisp Highway. The 38-acre educational park is part of the Watershed Watchers outdoor education program, and is open to the public. A one-mile loop trail on the Methow River floodplain is a fragrant oasis of birdsong, river views, and changing fall colors. Interpretive signs along the trail describe the area restoration of plants, river-flows, and fish. The community walking path is located on public Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife land. Work parties of volunteers organized by Rob Crandall of Methow Natives plant nursery placed hundreds of native trees and shrubs. The Methow Conservancy helped create interpretive signs along the trail.   

To see the fruits of Sandra’s labor, visit the Methow Valley Interpretive Center and Methow Natives plant garden located on the TwispWorks campus, and take a stroll on the Cottonwood Trail located off the Old Twisp Highway.

I have two important reminders to share: October is cancer awareness month. Remember to schedule your annual exams and cancer screenings. And, October is also a time to stretch your donation dollar. Visit www.givemethow.org to help support nonprofits in our valley, including the Methow Valley Interpretive Center. 100% of your donation directly supports the nonprofits. On “Funday Mondays” donors are entered to win additional funds for their participating nonprofits. All donations are tax-deductible.

Little Red Wagon full of Cheese

This article originally appeared in the Methow Valley News on 26 September 2018

We recently enjoyed a dinner with friends from Singapore. Our friends joked about the common American greeting, “How’s it going?” My friend spoke in amused amazement about the number of people who would walk by him, make eye contact, smile amicably, and say, “How’s it going?” Before our friend could answer, the person would be long gone, never breaking stride – obviously not interested in details. He mused that it was much like a traditional Chinese greeting used by the older generation, “Have you eaten?” This older greeting could have originated when people did not have enough to eat.

For days after our discussion, I mulled over the cultural aspects of both greetings. I’ve been in countries where the simple act of ordering food becomes a lesson in family history, “my mother, rest her soul, learned this recipe from her mother, who learned it from her mother, who stole it from the invaders after crushing their souls. I added cream.”

The discussion of food insecurity affecting a cultural greeting had me remembering, of all things, my little red wagon full of cheese back in the 70s.

Once a month, mom and I would walk downtown pulling my red Radio Flyer wagon. We’d roll that wagon up to the front porch of an old, two story blue house with a wraparound porch and pretty framed windows. Two front rooms were filled with cardboard towers of food. A woman with multiple pens and pencils poking out of her copious bun of hair, would scan a pile of papers on a clipboard before calling out the number of boxes of powdered milk, blocks of butter, and bricks of cheese that we could pile into my wagon. The cheese was wrapped in brown paper and stamped USDA. That government cheese was amazing. It sliced without crumbling and melted smoothly with no oily residue. I’ve often wondered if it was really that good, or if the lens of childhood bliss affected my taste buds.

A recent podcast of Planet Money answered my questions. The cheese was indeed as good as I remembered. In the 1970s, the government tried to increase market demand for milk by purchasing surplus dairy goods that could be stored: butter, dry milk, and cheese. To prevent fraud, the government also hired cheese graders to taste and test the cheese. The result was a processed Grade A government cheese for food banks, schools, and the military that melted smoothly and was a hundred times better than Velveeta.

Another food memory was tagging along with my dad while he worked at the homeless shelter. He’d take his toolbelt and go fix something, while I helped fix something in the kitchen. One of the cooks made colorful candies that she would send home with me, winking, “for your mother.” She thickened a flavored gelatin, and dusted the cooled squares with powdered sugar. It looked and tasted like jell-o gone wrong – I did not care for it and happily passed along the entire bag of candies to my mother. I may not have been a fan of those brightly colored Turkish Delights, but I did enjoy applets and cotlets candy from the store.

The government cheese I grew up on is no longer available, but I found a Turkish delight recipe that looks palatable, with a result similar to applets and cotlets. Mix two quarter-ounce packages unflavored gelatin with a 1/2 cup of applesauce and let stand for 10 minutes. Pour two cups sugar and ¾ cup applesauce into a saucepan and bring to a boil. Stir in the gelatin-applesauce mixture and cook over low heat for 15 minutes, stirring frequently. Add ½ cup finely chopped walnuts and 1 ½ teaspoons vanilla, stirring to mix well. Pour the warm candy concoction into a greased 8” x 8” pan. Let cool at room temperature for at least two hours. When cooled, slice into squares and toss with powdered sugar to coat. To make cotlets, substitute the applesauce for an apricot puree.

Particle Reduction

This article originally appeared in the Methow Valley News on 26 September 2018

Holy Smokes, Batman! Finding clean pockets of air is like jockeying for good seats at a concert. At a concert, if you’re lucky, you can reserve perfect seats with a great view. Otherwise, you and your crew spread out strategically and whistle or howl when the good seats are found and secured. If you’re really lucky, it’s an open- air concert with hillside seating and your grassy knoll neighbors are willing to share their fancy picnic fixings.

To find fresh air in the Methow, you can either drive around aimlessly until serendipitously a patch of blue sky appears, or visit www.purpleair.com to find healthy air. Methow Valley Clean Air Project has placed sensors throughout the valley collecting real time air quality readings. The sensors read particulate matter pollution - PM2.5, the main component of smoke - and upload readings every eighty seconds.

Volunteers from Carlton to Pateros are needed to host sensors that provide a fuller map of air quality for the entire valley. All that is needed is an outlet for power, and a wi-fi connection to upload data. Sensors are mounted outdoors in locations similar to where we breathe air: at or slightly above head level on the side of houses, under an eave to protect the device from weather.

The sensors use laser beams to measure the reflectivity of particles, like dust seen through a sunbeam. The number of particulates in the reflective beam are then counted, uploaded, and displayed on a google map located on the purpleair web page. From the purpleair.com faq page, “local pollution like cigarette smoke, BBQ’s, fireplaces and idling cars can cause spikes in the short term graphs.” Because the low-cost sensors count all particulates of a size similar to wildfire smoke particles, it is important to know that the read outs are sometimes double what the actual smoke levels are. To correct the data, purpleair.com recommends users, “switch the Map Data Layer dialogue box in the lower left hand corner from “None” to “AQ and U”. This will apply a correction factor that will make the readings relate more closely to the official air quality data.”

Sensors are needed at the Lost River Airport, Gunn Ranch trailhead, Gold Creek, Texas Creek, and the town of Methow. If you would like to host a sensor, or donate to the effort, please visit http://www.mvcitizens.org/clean-air-ambassador-program/ or email cleanairambassador@gmail.com for more information.

On another environmental subject: plastic is not as recyclable as we were once led to believe. Turns out plastic goes to China, who recently banned “foreign garbage” stating concerns that countries were including trash with recycle shipments. I’d make a crack about China willing to ‘dish it out’, but not ‘take it’ when it comes to plastic…but I can’t think clearly in all this smoke, so I’ll let a wittier person make the punchline work. Hello, Kitty.

After a conversation months ago with Miles Milliken, operations manager at Methow Recycles, I was inspired to look for ways to simply reduce waste, instead of indulgently, naïvely, recycling recyclables that aren’t recyclable. Taking advantage of the bulk bars at Hanks and Glover Street Market reduces some container waste. Glover Street has a container exchange program, and Hank’s offers brown paper bags for bulk foods.

My hygiene routine is another reduction opportunity. Not doing less of it, but rather less packaging. I found wooden toothbrush handles at Glover St. Market, with replaceable plastic heads. Online, I found toothpowders in recyclable aluminum tins. My favorite is Frau Fowler Tooth Powder with ‘organic essential oils of cinnamon, clove, tea tree, and cardamon’. My mouth feels fantastic after each use. I have yet to find a shampoo bar that doesn’t leave a waxy residue – but when I do, you’ll be the first to know.

A very Methow Mongolia

This article originally appeared in the Methow Valley News on 22 August 2018

Three wild horsewomen would like to share their recent Mongolian experience by bringing their Mongolian guide to the Methow Valley.

Robin Baire, Lorah Super, and Jil Wickander recently completed a two-week guided horseback tour through the UNESCO world heritage sites and national parks of Mongolia. Impressed with the experience, they asked their guide, Dagva Jambatseren, to come to the Methow Valley to share the experience with the community. Dagva enthusiastically accepted the invitation, and is hoping to visit sometime in September or October and give a cultural presentation to people here in the Methow Valley.

Robin learned about the horseback guided tour through a page on Facebook titled, “Wild Women Expeditions:  Orkhon Valley Horseback Adventure – Mongolia.”

“Every one of those words appealed to me,” Robin thought, and she began inquiring if other horse women would like to join. Lorah was the first to pony up. “I read the trip descriptions of riding all day through these sites and then ending the day by soaking in hot springs. I’m a busy mom, hot springs after a day of riding sounded good!” Jil soon joined the trio and the Methow Valley horsewomen planned their early summer expedition.

The trip was for sixteen days in the beginning of June. “It was a short time to be there, but a long time to be away from here,” Robin related. Preparation for the trip included long hours in the garden – as any Methow Valley gardener can empathize during the beginning of garden season.

Their expedition started in Ulannbaatar, the capital of Mongolia in the Tuul River valley. The women toured the National History Museum with their guide, Dagva, who provided knowledgeable insights into the rich history of the region from prehistory to Genghis Khan to the Soviet period. In the evening, the women enjoyed traditional performances including folk dances and singing.

The second day started with a 2-hour ride into Khustai National Park. The park is home to the world’s only wild herd of Przewalski’s horse, an ancient breed that was saved from extinction by the Mongolian horse people.

The next morning the women began their seven-day ride through the Orkhon Valley, a UNESCO world heritage site that reflects thousands of years of nomadic pastoralism, and significant events in human history as the center of the Mongolian Empire. The riders found the scenery to be much like the Methow Valley. They rode along the river through basalt fields and gradually ascended into larch forests full of wild peonies, the full robust blossoms taking everyone’s breath away. Daily, the women rode through large herds of yaks, sheep, goats, and horses, passing by nomadic camps. “It was amazing how calm the animals were,” Robin noted, “and everyone was so friendly. We’d ride around the camps to give them privacy, and people would wave.”

At the end of the first week, the women arrived at the Tovkhon Monastery built into a cliff rising 2312 meters above sea level, affording them a view of the whole Khangai mountain range. The women would visit many monasteries on their trip, home to cultural artifacts hidden away during the Stalinist purges in the late 1930s.  “No photos were allowed inside,” Lorah explained how they drank it all in, taking, “just what you can carry with you,” in memories.

The second week of the expedition was spent exploring Naiman Nuur National Park, followed by the Mini-Gobi. The lakes within Naiman Nuur are accessible only by foot or hoof. Rolling hills, waterfalls, and extensive larch forests led the horsewomen over mountain passes and to quiet mountain lakes.

Evenings were spent with nomadic families, sleeping in Gers (yurts) or teepees. “It felt like ‘glamping’”, Robin exclaimed, noting the luxury level of some of the Gers. The visitors were welcomed with food, warm salted milk, which was, “surprisingly refreshing”, and slices of sweet butter made from yak’s milk.

The travelers found themselves connecting with the guides, finding a commonality in gardening, living off the land, and in their relationships with their horses.

Wanting to share this incredible experience with others, Robin is working to bring Dagva to the Methow Valley to present Mongolia’s rich past and ongoing culture. Dagva is a guide with Horseback Adventure Company, an enterprise that works with nomadic families to give them a source of income. Dagva is very knowledgeable in Mongolia’s history, culture, and natural landscape. Dagva needs assistance with travel expenses. If you would like to help, please email Robin Baire at  3baires@gmail.com.