|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
| Home | Back Pages | Illustrations | Author Interview | Back Pages People |
| WebCam! | CamGallery | Way Backpages | What is a Backpage? |
November, 2001I'm home from my climbing expedition to Mexico's volanoes. It was a beautiful and engaging trip that lived up to my highest expectations. And they were high, indeed!
In this picture you see me stopping for a photo oportunity at 16,500 ft. (5000 m)on the summit ridge of Ixtaccihautl. At the time of this picture our group of five climbers had already ascended to the summit of Ixta, 17,200 ft. and we are descending. The volcano in the background is called Popo and is presently active. We saw plenty of smoke rising from its crater at various times during the four days we were climbing on Ixta.
The second mountain our group visited is called El Pico de Orizaba . I'll post pictures of the second climb, along with a full description later on. I just wanted to get a quick official entry online so that all you readers know I made it successfully to both summits, and safely home again.
Wednesday, November 15th 2001
The aroma of the ocean has been wafting on the air around town all week. It's especially notable when I first step out of my apartment in the morning. The scent is salty, humid, and a little fishy. Sometimes I forget that I live in what is essentially a fishing village gone haute couture. It's kind of nice to have the smell of the sea reminding me I'm home every morning.
I've been focusing my attention in the last week since I came home from Mexico on three things; my job, my boyfriend, and my writing project. It is the latter of the three that has been keeping My Back Pages somewhat sparse. I only have a limited amount of time each day for writing, and I've been working very hard on a travelogue documenting my trip to Mexico. I'm trying to make it a very high quality piece, for the benefit of my fellow expedition members, and with eye towards publication.
It's taking a lot of time to write. I've been working on it for a cumulative total of 20 hours or so, and I'm only on Day Three of a ten day trip! It has run over 4,000 words already, which means it could end up in the neighborhood of 12,000 words by the time it is done. A typical magazine feature article is 2,500-3,500 words. My project is going to have to be severely cut to be published. Once I've got the whole story I want to tell committed to ASCII, it shouldn't be too difficult to carve out highlights with an angle that will most appeal to certain magazine editors. The entire story will probably be available only here in my journal.
My work is going well. I have a conference coming up in San Diego that will infuse me with lots of new ideas to exploit in the new year. I love professional conferences. They help me care more about what I do for money. It might also provide a chance to visit with Justin Clouse and with my aunt and uncle. (Will it be time to come out to them after all these years?)
My relationship with Brent is as strong as ever, with perhaps one fine point of, eh, dissent. I dedicated all of my holiday on Monday just to spend time with him. He supports my climbing expeditions despite the risk and time away from him. Lesser boyfriends would be jealous or stressed about it. So, when I get home from each of my mountaineering trips, I like to make sure he knows I really appreciate him for the wonderful, considerate, and loving person he is.
Oh, I suppose you want to know what the fine point of dissent is? When I came home from Mexico, I found Brent sporting a goatee style beard and moustache. He carries it off very well. I'll be the first to admit it looks quite handsome on him, in a clinical sense. The trouble is, in terms of basic fancies and turn-ons, facial hair is like a cold shower for me. For the first day or two, I had a hard time even looking at my formerly cute boyfriend with that growth on his face. I'm over that now, but I still flinch a little when we kiss and I can feel his fur brushing my lip.
It's bad ju-ju to try to change other people. I won't ask him to shave off the goatee. He knows I don't like it, but it's my job to deal with it. Besides, I know it's still Brent under there, even if he now looks like the scary guy in a boy band, instead of like the cute innocent one.
Friday, November 23th 2001
I've been working on my Mexico Expedition documentation today. I have writen up to day three and my project is now comprised of eight single spaced pages in 12 point font! Eeep! Only seven more days to write about. Today, however, I've been working with the scanner and photoshop to get the illustrations going.
With today's entry you see a picture of me taken by a fellow climber, Tim, on October 29th. I'm standing at 15,500 ft. in high camp on Izta. About 12 hours later I would be leaving this camp, with our group, for the summit. The final summit ridge is just in view 2,000 feet above and a mile behind me in the picture, however the true summit is out of frame to the left. The picture in my November 7th entry was taken on the high bump on the ridge to the left of this picture, over my right shoulder. If there were people up on that ridge at the time of this picture, they'd be too small to make out in the resolution presented here, but might just barely be seen moving along with the naked eye.
Yesterday, of course, was Thanksgiving Day. I celebrated by traveling two hours with my parents to Modesto, CA. There, we enjoyed a big Thanksgiving feast with most of my relatives on my mother's side. It was important to do so, I thought, because my grandparents there are getting pretty old and not doing too well these days. They recently moved from their home of 50 years to an assisted living apartment because they just can't live on their own anymore. My Modesto relatives visit with them almost daily and they're happy in their new home, but we wanted to make sure they had a big Thanksgiving celebration at my uncle's house with lots of family.
At lunch today, I met my parents at the Christmas tree lot to pick out our family tree to put up in my parents' house for the season. It took a little while to reach a consensus, but I think everyone is happy. My brother didn't get to vote, since he's living in Colorado at the moment, but I'm sure when he comes to Monterey for the holidays that he'll be happy with the tree too. The tradition of picking out a Christmas tree is one of my favorite parts of the season. I remember many such trips to the same lot at the Monterey Fairgrounds we've been going to for, well, decades now; my brother and I squeezing through the tightly packed rows of trees ardently searching for the ultimate in coniferous perfection.
One year, when I was fourteen, I couldn't see the forest nor the trees, so distracted as I was by a cute blond boy my age who was there selecting a tree with his family. We exchanged many friendly glances between the trees. Oh, how I longed to make him my friend. He looked so... so... well, I didn't have the words for it. Attraction is so powerful when you are fourteen! Of course, I never said a word to him. I knew perfectly well what my attraction meant, but I flat out refused to accept it. I think we picked out an OK tree that year, but by the time we got the tree home, it didn't matter to me. I was already looking forward to picking out next year's tree in the hope that I might see my silent December evening boyfriend again. Of course, I never did.