IWSG: How’s your world? (A Long, Strange, Trip)

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!

Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer - aim for a dozen new people each time - and return comments. This group is all about connecting! Be sure to link to this page and display the badge in your post. And please be sure your avatar links back to your blog! Otherwise, when you leave a comment, people can't find you to comment back.

Let’s rock the neurotic writing world!

Our Twitter handle is @TheIWSG and hashtag is #IWSG.

Every month, we announce a question that members can answer in their IWSG post. These questions may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Include your answer to the question in your IWSG post or let it inspire your post if you are struggling with something to say. 
Remember, the question is optional!
April 1 question - The IWSG’s focus is on our writers. Each month, from all over the globe, we are a united group sharing our insecurities, our troubles, and our pain. So, in this time when our world is in crisis with the covid-19 pandemic, our optional question this month is: how are things in your world?

The awesome co-hosts for the April 1 posting of the IWSG are Diane Burton, JH Moncrieff, Anna @ Emaginette, Karen @ Reprobate Typewriter, Erika Beebe, and Lisa Buie-Collard!
Be sure you visit them and thank them for their hard work!

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The IWSG question came through on my email while I was in a pretty weird place, and almost made me laugh. Because our world was at once amazing, and utterly surreal.

Here's the story: While my husband and I were exploring Antarctica (along with approximately 160 fellow passengers, staff and crew of the Oceanwide Expeditions vessel Plancius), the world fell off a cliff. That’s how it looked to us, at least, as we emerged from a week of awe-struck exploration of the Antarctic Peninsula to realize that... we couldn’t go home.

That was a pretty literal “can’t go home.” We were not allowed to land at our port of origin in Ushuaia, Argentina (Tierra del Fuego). At first, it looked like we’d just be quarantined on the ship for an extra day, then allowed to land, and some of us would still be able to catch our flights. Before we reached port, however, we got word that Argentina had shut down all internal flights, AND closed all hotels, etc. Under the circumstances, Oceanwide Expeditions could not disembark us in Ushuaia, even if the local authorities would allow it.

The next choice was to cruise to Buenos Aires, a trip predicted to take about a week. In the end, Argentina closed their borders to us entirely, and we landed (after much negotiation on the part of Oceanwide) in Montevideo, Uruguay.

In the meantime, we had endured a rather typically rough crossing of the Drake Passage (or maybe a bit worse than average). For me, that made staying on the ship something pretty akin to hell, as I endured 72 hours of intense seasickness. I then got to enjoy about 3 days of nice weather, before we hit another moderately rough day and I spent another 3/4 of a day in my bunk.

No one on the ship was as happy as I to reach Montevideo, and tie up at a pier where the ship did not move at all (though my body never quite believed that, and in fact is still trying to readjust).

It took three days to get all passengers off the ship to confirmed flights out of there. No one could land without a flight, and my husband and I got off on the 3rd day. As far as we know, only one person is stuck in Uruguay, though at least one other is unable to return home anytime soon, and quite a lot are in quarantine in their home countries, where the governments are being aggressive in trying to slow the spread of the Corona virus.

During the lead-up to leaving the ship our concern was wholly on getting home, without much thought as to what that would be like, but as we spent hours in airports trying to get there, the extent of the change in the world was borne in on us.

We are home now, still trying to work out just what this all means for us, let alone for the world. One result: our family will be together, as our younger son is moving back home to continue his on-line education until the university reopens, due to arrive today. Finding private and quiet spaces for 4 people to work on computers has been a challenge, but hey--we all need something to do while we shelter in place, right? Plus, moving books and furniture gave me a good workout.

So while our weird world was a bit more exotic than most peoples', we have in fact had an amazing and memorable trip--even more so than expected! But... I don't recommend international travel during a pandemic :)

And no, I will not be taking any more cruises. Oceanwide, the staff and the crew of the Plancius were amazing, and I will recommend them to anyone who asks. But I am clearly not meant for a sailor, and shall stick to canoes and kayaks.

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That lengthy tale doesn't leave much room for writing news... just want to share that Frostfire Worlds has come out at last, with my story "The Revenge of Gorg." Looks like a nice collection!

 

Also: writing did happen during all the travel. More on that as things settle down, but edits on Death By Donut are under way, along with some bonus short stories!

Hope you are all getting lots done with your enforced writing time! And check back on Friday for the first of my Antarctica photo posts. Penguins: as good as cats for lifting your mood.

All images and text ©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2020, unless otherwise indicated.
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!

Gone to sea

The Ninja Librarian is truly out of reach, having set sail for Antarctica. Assuming I don’t die of sea-sickness, I’ll be back on land and back to the internet around March 20 or 21. Feel free to leave comments, and I’ll respond when I return!

I’ll leave you with an ice berg or two for your enjoyment. These were on Lago Argentina, not in Antarctica, but they are still beautiful.

And deep into the heart of the blue, blue ice.

All text and photos ©️Rebecca M. Douglass, unless otherwise indicated. Please ask for permission before using or sharing any content of this blog. Linkbacks are always appreciated!

Photo Friday: Three Hikes, Three States, Three Days

Recently as part of our post-retirement adventures, we drove from California to Colorado, taking time along the way to do some hiking and camping. The result was that we did three hikes in three states in three days (I could claim a fourth back in California, but that was 3 days before we left). Just for fun, here are a few snapshots.

1. Wednesday. Wheeler Peak, Great Basin National Park, Nevada.
This was a roughly 8-mile RT, with close to 3000’ of climbing (and descending). This was not a smart move with my foot only half recovered from a very bad episode of plantar fasciitis, but I did it anyway. I never said I was smart :)

Not long after we started, we could look up to see the summit, a ridiculously long way above us. It’s hard to see but there was also a light coating of fresh snow or hail from a storm the evening before.

After a long time, the summit looked closer.

By the time we got up there, most of the snow was gone. We found a bit of it hidden here and there.

It was breezy on the summit, but the views were great. It was also nearly lunchtime, so we had a good snack before heading back down, as our lunch was actually back at the car.

2. Thursday. A pair of canyons in Utah. I’m not naming them, because they are getting too many visitors as it is, and I don’t need to add to the info out there. The hike was, again, 8 miles, but with limited climbing aside from the occasional scramble over pour-offs a few feet high. About a 5 hour drive from Wheeler Peak.

Heading into the canyon, after a half-mile approach.

One of the climb-y bits. Nothing very challenging, but it added fun and interest.

The sandstone is subject to erosion into holes and cubbies as well as waves. You can also see the layering of different types of sand here.

A third of the way through the hike we topped out the first canyon, and had a 1.5 mile walk along a jeep trail to the head of the second canyon. We had climbed enough for the breeze to be pleasant and the juniper trees to cast some shade.

Soon our second canyon began to narrow, and the wall show the evidence of the occasional flash floods that carve and smooth such slot canyons. An occasional log jammed high up reminded us why you want to know the weather all around the region before entering a canyon.

In another place, we had to duck under a jammed boulder, another bit of food for thought.

A few passages were just magical classic slot canyon.

Too soon the canyon began to widen and the cliffs grew lower, signalling the beginning of the end.

3.  Friday, Colorado National Monument. Only about 2.5 hours from the canyons, and still sharing some of the same red rock, Colorado National Monument rises right out of the city of Grand Junction. We’ve hiked down into the red rock before, so this time we decided to hike the Black Ridge trail, up in the piñon/juniper forest. My hike, combined with a mile of nature trail, was about 4 1/4 miles--a nice rest!

Before starting the real trail, we walked a mile RT on a nature trail that came to a convincing dead-end.

Same scene looking down--into the puddle.

Starting up the trail, I could still look back on the eroded features of the Monument.

A less dramatic landscape than the canyon, but the long views of the Book Cliffs were rewarding, as was a tour of the geology--what's above the sandstone?

As a final reward for patience and return visits, the Monument finally showed us one of the bighorn sheep we knew lived there. Would have been nice to see it on the trail, not the road, but we enjoyed this all-too-unafraid ewe.

To complete the four states, here's a glimpse of my hike near Mt. Lassen on Saturday, before our departure for points east.

I hiked to Ridge Lakes. I thought it was 2 miles each way, but that turned out to be a RT distance.
So I continued on to the ridge.

Topped out closer to my 2-mile target, and was rewarded with views of both Lassen and Brokeoff. The latter is lower, but was much more interesting to look at and photograph. In the distance what looks like fog in the valley is smoke from the wildfire du jour.

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2019

As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!

Photo Friday: Milford Sound

Background: My husband and I and our 21-year-old son are spending several months traveling and tramping in New Zealand. We arrived on the South Island Dec. 28, 2018, and spent January hiking like crazy with Dave’s brother and his wife, before sending them home and settling into a home base in Christchurch, allowing me a bit more time between adventures to get some blogging and writing done!

I thought I had already shared photos of Milford Sound, but it looks like I didn’t. Since it’s a bit too much to add to the Hollyford Track report you’ll see next Friday, it looks like it will get a post all of it’s own!

Milford Sound wasn’t really a destination for us, but we did end up passing through three times—once at each end of the Hollyford Track in January, and again last week at the end of the Milford Track. I’m mixing in photos from each occasion.

The drive to Milford Sound--a 2-hour dead-end road from Te Anau--has plenty of great scenery, but it reaches it's peak as you near the pass through the coastal mountains.

There's a pull-out on the road, just so every car-load of tourists can take this picture. We were no exception.

The mountains rather defied the impulse to build a road through--the Milford Track, a 34-mile hike from the end of Lake Te Anua (I'll get to that report eventually) came first by several decades, but wasn't the most practical way to get tourists in. In the 1930s, work began on the Homer Tunnel, which wasn't completed until the 1950s, thanks to a little upset in Europe that stopped work. The tunnel remains a single lane road--it used to allow traffic both ways with just room to squeeze by, but too many large buses and campervans made that impossible. You now wait up to 7 minutes at each end for your turn.

Waiting for the tunnel

Fortunately, while you wait, there's plenty of fantastic scenery to enjoy. We were there on sunny days, but in 1996 my husband and I came through in the rain. We couldn't see as much of the mountains, but there was a waterfall every few yards along the cliffs all around.

Glaciers and permanent snowfields up high feed the falls we saw on our sunny days.

Another standard form of entertainment is the kea, the world's only alpine parrot, and claimed to be the world's smartest bird. They certainly have the curiosity of an intelligent animal, and can do serious damage to a car or a backpack (or carry off a single boot--we learned to tie boots together when drying them outside overnight, as a linked pair is too heavy for a kea). Vaguely grey-green-brown on top, there is a startling patch of orange visible under the wings when they fly.

This kea was exploring the cars in the parking area by the tunnel very thoroughly. It seems to be holding some rubber bit it may have pulled off the bottom of a victim.

After seeing the kea at the pass, the sign at the coffee shop in Milford Sound didn't seem so unreasonable:

The west end of the tunnel is at the base of an even more impressive cliff. You can't see the top here, but you can probably tell why they didn't build the road over it!

Homer Tunnel, west end. The tunnel slopes downward to the west, by what was at the time, at least, an unprecedented degree. The avalanche shed pictured protects the opening.

Before we reached the sound we had to stop another time or two, including at The Chasm, which was fairly impossible to photograph, but gave me this portrait of the artist and several other tourists.

We reached Milford Sound in time to check into our dorm at the Milford Lodge (it's a place to sleep, sort of. The main recommendation is that it's there), and then see the Sound in the last light of the afternoon.

Mitre Peak (just left of center) is the iconic emblem of Milford Sound, rising 5000' straight out of the water. It is, as you can see here, actually just the chopped-off end of a long ridge. The glacier that formed Milford Sound ground away the rest.

After our look around, we made dinner in the communal kitchen at the lodge/campground. We did try to eat well!

In the mornings, the light is better!

There are, of course, many ways to see the area, most of them also excellent ways to extract money from tourists. Boat tours are very popular, with most of the participants bused in from Te Anau or even Queenstown, about 6 hours away. You can also rent a kayak.

Our "boat tour" was a 5-minute ride from the end of the Milford Track to the tour boat terminal on a little bitty boat with, alas, plastic side-screens that ruined the views.

Still Mitre Peak dominating the scene.

Another popular form of tour is the scenic flight. Ours was a transport flight, to get us to the start of the Hollyford Track, but it was still scenic.

The picture looks a little drunken because hey--small plane!

Pretty much everyone who visits the South Island wants to visit Milford Sound, and unfortunately it shows. Lodging is impossible unless booked months in advance, and the scene is a bit of a zoo. But every now and then the boats all go out, the airplanes and choppers stop, and peace prevails.

Photos and text Copyright Rebecca M. Douglass. Please do not use without permission. Linkbacks always appreciated.

IWSG: On the Road

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds! Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer - aim for a dozen new people each time - and return comments. This group is all about connecting! Be sure to link to the IWSG page and display the badge in your post. And please be sure your avatar links back to your blog! If it links to Google+, be sure your blog is listed there. Otherwise, when you leave a comment, people can't find you to comment back.

Let’s rock the neurotic writing world!

January 2 question - What are your favorite and least favorite questions people ask you about your writing?

Remember, the question is optional!

 

The awesome co-hosts for the January 2 posting of the IWSG are Patricia Lynne, Lisa Buie-Collard, Kim Lajevardi, and Fundy Blue!

I'll get to the IWSG question in a minute, but for now, just want to let people know that the Ninja Librarian is pretty much away from civilization at this point, and won't be able to make return visits and comments for a while. Actually, today and tomorrow we are in Te Anua, so I'll try to do some visiting--but we'll be scrambling, getting ready to hike the Routeburn Track. As I've noted elsewhere, the blog will mostly be on a break this month, with something of a return to normal for February and March (and chaos will reign again in April and May, as we'll mostly be on the road during those months, first in New Zealand and then in the US).

Now for the fun stuff--the question of the month!

I love it when people ask me about what I'm working on. It makes me think about the WIP, and it makes me take my work more seriously. Yes, it can be a bit embarrassing if I'm not working, but it's also a motivator.

What I hate is when people ask about what I make at writing. Maybe I'm just embarrassed that I don't usually make enough to pay the power bill (was that Steven King who said that's the marker for being a professional?). Plus, I work hard at remembering that writing is a labor of love, not something I do for the money. 

Or maybe I'm kind of put off by the personal question. After all, I was taught that you don't talk about what you earn, or ask others what they do.

But I'm afraid the bottom line is that I don't like to think about it, because I can't deny that it's a bit of a disappointment to me that I don't earn more.

There. That's my insecure writer truth: I net only a hundred or two a year, and that bums me out when I think about it.

Wednesday Wanderings: Author’s update

The Ninja Librarian is back in civilization! Well, more or less. We have arrived in Maine, and I have a reliable internet connection, so I’m expecting to get back to regular posting soon. I haven’t been reading or writing much the last few weeks. That’s no surprise, since we were driving across the country, with various stops for hikes and bike rides. We did listen to a couple of good audio books (those are a life-saver when you are driving across eastern Montana, North Dakota, and Minnesota, though there are parts of all of those that are gorgeous).

During that time, of course, there wasn’t any writing going on, but I have been thinking about the new Pismawallops PTA book, which at this point has a title (Death By Library), a corpse, and a list of suspects. I’m ready to get serious about the plot and outline, and intend to do a draft during the NaNo frenzy in November.

Meanwhile, I’ll have more photos soon, with highlights from Teddy Roosevelt National Park, places along Lake Superior, and Acadia National Park. For now, here are just a few from my phone (I need to get the computer set up so I can download and edit the real photos).

Theodore Roosevelt National Park has official greeters near the entrance. This one looked good, but he couldn't answer any of our questions.

Theodore Roosevelt NP

We carry our camp kit wherever we go, so we can fix dinner whenever it's convenient. You don't often get a kitchen stove with a view like this.

Roadside meal while waiting for the light to get perfect.

Somewhere out in eastern North Dakota we realized that the overcast wasn't solid. These are "cloud streets," properly called horizontal convective rolls. They form from just the right combination of convection and wind, but more than that I can't say :)

 On to Minnesota, where we encountered Paul Bunyan on the side of the road.

Paul appears to be soliciting donations.

On to Michigan and Lake Superior! I did take a dip in the lake, which wasn't a bad temperature close in to shore, though I gather the overall average temp is colder than Puget Sound, so I wouldn't want to swim far!

Sunset on the shore of the world's largest body of fresh water.

After some time in Algonquin Provencial Park and a night with friends in Montreal, we finally reached Maine, some 18 days after leaving our home in California for the last time.

Maine sunset

We spent our first weekend in Maine at Acadia National Park (and I hope that may be about the last time we go out on a weekend) to take in the Acadia Night Sky Festival #AcadiaNightSky. We mixed hiking, biking, and educational events, but the phone didn't go on that many of the outings.

Our first night there we saw an amazing live music/multi-media show with Dava Sobel and Galileo's Daughters, "Perpetual Motion: Galileo and his Revolutions."

#acadianightsky #galileosdaughters

We followed the performance with star viewing through telescopes (Acadia is celebrating being one of the few dark places on the eastern seaboard, so on a moonless night the viewing is very good, though I've seen much clearer and darker skies out west), scopes and assistance provided by about 30 amateur astronomers. I was delighted to find that someone had donated a good scope to the local high school, and a couple of enthusiastic and competent young women were running it. Seeing the rings of Saturn with my own eyes was pretty special.

Our second night we took a star-gazing cruise. That was kind of fun, and we learned some, but it wasn't as worthwhile as the previous night's combo, though the sunset was beautiful. We did a fantastic hike on Sunday morning, climbing the aptly named Precipice Trail, before heading back to our Maine home.

Ready to go on board. Music, lectures, and serious stars.

That's all I have for you today! I'd like to think I'll manage some very short fiction for Friday. We'll see!

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2018
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated

On the Road Again...

The Ninja Librarian is busy driving across the country, having finished pulling up roots. I have scheduled posts for most of my usual dates, but am skipping some to stretch the available posts until I'm a bit settled and able to post again. I'll do my best to respond to comments and visit my visitors, but it may be a challenge, so please don't give up on me! I am also chipping away at the WEP list, and hope to read everyone's stories before the next posting date!

Riding off into the sunset. Well, actually into the sunrise, since we're headed east.

And... The Ninja Librarian is out of the mountains!

To no one's surprise, I don't have a story ready to go for my Friday Flash Fiction. Nor are my photos edited, since I just got home today. But I've picked a few to edit quickly and allow me to share a little teaser.

Here's the big story: on July 11, we packed up half our belongings (roughly) to move into storage, part of our plan to be out of our house by sometime in August. We paid our boys to take a couple of days off from work, and drove to my brother-in-law's house about 3 hours away, where we left the stuff. The next morning we sent our boys back home with our car and the U-Haul (because right now a round-trip rental from SF is cheaper by a wide margin than a one-way rental), and my husband and  I borrowed the parental camper van and headed for the hills: the really big hills known as the Sierra Nevada.

We spent 4 days dayhiking, to get used to the altitude, then did an 8-night, 9-day backpacking trip (was supposed to be one night longer; that's another story for another day). One of the trips we did was to the bristlecone pine forest on White Mountain (across the Owens Valley from the Sierra Nevada). We hiked a 4 1/4 mile loop that passed among some of the oldest living things on earth (the oldest tree, known as the Methuselah Tree, is supposed to be in there somewhere, but for obvious reasons they don't identify it. People can be stupid and the tree can't run away).

We spent the night at the Grandview Campground, which is a fancy name for a primitive National Forest campground. We arrived after dark and had a fun time trying to figure out what were campsites and what weren't, and which were occupied. Our apologies to anyone we disturbed!

The next morning, we drove the last few miles to the bristlecone grove, with a stop at a viewpoint with an amazing view of the Sierra.

It's a dry year. That's a pretty bare mountain range, and there's a hint of the grey-brown pall of smoke that would develop in a week into a view-destroying cloud.

We learned a number of things on our hike, which had a numbered trail guide. One of those things (not in the guide) was that it was already hot at 9 a.m., even at 11,000 feet. Another was that the trees growing in "easy" places, like these, grow fast, straight, and tall. But they don't grow tough, and their softer wood is more subject to disease, bugs, and other arboreal disasters, so they don't become ancients.

Happy trees, unaware they will not live for centuries.

On the slopes where nothing else will grow (often dolomite soils, which are very alkaline), the bristlecone pines can live for centuries. Millenia, in fact--many of the trees in the Methuselah Grove are 3-4 thousand years old. As long as some small strip of bark remains, they will produce needles and cones, and continue to live and (verrrrry slowly) to grow.

Not dead yet.

About those cones. Bristlecones produce male and female cones, and will do so even when 4000 years old, thus ensuring that somewhere along the line they reproduce successfully.

Male cones. These make the pollen.

Female cones. You can't see the bristles on these (possibly because they are at the wrong stage of the 2 year life cycle of the cone). They produce the seeds.

Those needles don't drop every year or two, either, as other pines do. They may hang on for 20 or 30 years. No doubt when you live for thousands of years, that's plenty often enough to refresh your look. It also reduces the energy they need to survive, ensures they will be able to photosynthesize even in a bad year, and keeps the forest floor so free of litter (duff) that fires can't spread, thus protecting them in another way.

Even when the trees finally die (as this one appears to have done), they can continue to stand for centuries or more, until the soil erodes from under them.  When they do fall, they don't decay in the dry air. Dead and downed trees have been found that first began to grow about 13,000 years ago, or pretty much as soon as the ice retreated and the Holocene began.

The mountains and valleys of the north end of Death Valley National Park are visible from the ridge here.

The extremely long lives and failure to decay of the trees revolutionized dendrochronology, the science of dating things by tree-ring evidence. And that science, in turn, forced a rethinking of human history, and a recognition that civilizations grew up around the world on their own, not all as an expansion from the Tigris-Euphrates Valley, as I was taught in school. Currently, scientists have a continuous tree-ring record going back 9000 years, and need just the one right tree to fill a gap, allowing it to go back 13,000 years.

Somewhere in this neighborhood lives the oldest tree. Any of these could be a few thousand years old, too.

Finally, in addition to all that science, the trees are just beautiful in their own right. The sun was high and the light harsh by the time we got around the trail, so the pictures don't do the trees justice. But the wood is multi-colored, possibly due to interactions of fungi with the resins in the wood. Whatever the cause, the result is beautiful.

Hope you enjoyed this little excursion to the White Mountains, and the Ancient Bristlecone Pine grove! Stay tuned--I finished a few books on the trail, so even if I don't have new fiction, I'll have some book reviews!

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2018
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!