Locals will tell you that this region of the country is “wealthier” or “more developed” than other rural localities, although the lifestyle here is still very much one of a subsistence nature. The physical infrastructure is generally fairly good, a new paved road was constructed in the past five years and serves to connect the various villages with Nairobi.  Farmers typically belong to some form of a “co-op” which helps to ensure they receive a fair (or at least fairer) price for cash crops like coffee, milk or tea. However, with the population of Nyeri being largely rural and widely dispersed, few homes have electricity (ours did not, save for one puny solar panel) and next to none have running water.  Pit latrines and open-flame cooking dominate and your water comes to you direct from Mother Nature herself in the form of rain. Of course, this means no washing machine, clothes dryer, dishwasher (not even a sink), refrigerator, shower, television, computer, stove, oven, lightbulbs…First World Problems indeed!

My host family notably practiced subsistence living, supplemented by the income from their coffee cash crop.  In a subsistence system, you depend upon the conditions of the physical environment and your own ability to produce what you need in order to survive. Almost everything is done by hand, from washing clothes and dishes to harvesting crops and weeding garden plots.  Money is almost unnecessary as you produce the majority of your own food, there are no bills for utilities and there’s not much to buy in town anyway, save for what you can’t produce for yourself.  Food comes from your shamba (“farm” in Swahili): everyone grows maize for ugali, starchy cooking bananas, potatoes or yams, greens known as “sukuma wiki,” beans, and arrow roots. Most families have a few goats, a handful of chickens for eggs (sometimes meat), and at least one cow for milk.  Contrary to what I was told prior to my trip, most rural Kenyans eat very little meat and it is easy to see why excessive meat consumption in a subsistence system is unsustainable: once you slaughter one of your own animals, it is no longer of use to you (no more eggs, milk, etc).  Eating meat is something of a luxury, reserved for special occasions as it is expensive, requires a special trip into town to purchase and is difficult to store when you have no refrigeration.

In a subsistence living arrangement, everyday life depends upon skill and cycles. For instance, everything has a minimum of two uses, maximizing utility and minimizing waste: old or worn out clothes become rags, used water from laundry or bathing is used to wash the house, weeds from the farm are hauled home as animal feed, cow manure and plant waste make an effective compost and goats and chickens serve as garbage disposals.  Because everything is done almost entirely by hand, people have an extensive skills bank to draw on.  These are skills that the average American has never had to acquire, and likely never will in order to survive.  Daily tasks which require practical knowledge include: cooking, hand washing clothing, mechanical knowledge, carpentry, animal care, cultivating plants effectively, harvesting plants, gathering and splitting fire wood, building and maintaining a fire for cooking, artisanal crafts as trade, haggling/bargaining….the list goes on.

The bottom line here is that subsistence living is hard work. Every day is filled with labor, most of it you are not paid for, but you must work hard simply to survive. Notable travel writer/novelist Paul Theroux sums up the subsistence paradigm quite effectively: “Food was grown and cooked and eaten. Firewood was burned. The buckets of water were emptied. People were sustained. The achievement of the work was that life continued. It was the meaning of subsistence, an active way of marking time…The reason for all this effort was to hang on to life and to remain the same.”  Hard work is necessary simply for survival.

This is difficult to explain to most Americans, as we as a culture are accustomed to a fairly easy life that revolves upon convenience and consumption.  When something needs to be done, we are more likely to pay for someone else to do it, perhaps because we do not have the necessary skills or we quite simply don’t want to do the work. To the average American, subsistence is a terrible word: it congers up images of emaciated people scraping around in the dirt, starving and struggling to live.  Of course, this is far from true.  My Kenyan hosts were never without food, they lived on a productive piece of land and were nurturing, caring and hospitable people. And something very profound exists here: true community, where people can depend upon one another and work to nurture and ensure the survival of their neighbors.

Teresa Gotlin-Sheehan

Nevertheless, with little time and inappropriate technology to really edit anything, this little mashup will suffice to show you how nuts I really am. Cheers.

JCA

For all it’s worth, I hope any passers-through can enjoy the rough cuts as much as we do.

Cheers,

JCA

p.s. KFC (aka Keenan, is the red puffy-jacketed planker)

After gouging our gear and bodies on granite stones at Guanella last week, Steven and I opted for some manicured groomers at Loveland this week. I am a Loveland pass holder, but Steve is still drinking the corporate Kool-Aid that Vail Resorts pours him every winter. Though there are many more skiable acres beyond that heinous, death-is-awaiting pass, the friction of getting there (the traffic, the parking, the scenesters in basketball jerseys and over sized beanies, the frequent pass closures on those days when the snow is actually worth going out there for, etc.) outweighs the frills of a few extra tree runs and bowls. I often tell Steven I’ll be watching him in traffic while I make deep turns just up the hill from the highway.

But whatever…the point is that I ride alone all winter and I’m bitter about it.

So it was a thrill beyond words when Steven decided to debase himself and ride at a “lesser-quality” ski area with me. The video below is a document of proof that you can have lots of fun no matter where you are for little money–it just depends who you’re with and how creative you can be. (It’s also a reason for me to keep developing my video editing skills–I apologize in adavance for the nausea induced editing…).

Cheers.

p.s. I added a Facebook transcript to show you how desperate I get to find someone willing to go into the backcountry with me. It’s also a foreshadow of my own probable death…

so, about tomorrow. I found this website:http://www.wcc.nrcs.usda.gov/snotel/Colorado/colorado.html

See the little red dot aaaaalll the way down on the NM CO border? That’s where I’m going. 27 inches of snow…all freshy. And I am going to build a kicker and ride an abandoned resort, and probably die…alone. Unless you are guilted into joining me.

NRCS National Water and Climate Center – SNOTEL Map Based Network – Colorado

www.wcc.nrcs.usda.gov

Select a SNOTEL Site Apishapa (303) Arapaho Ridge (1030) Arrow (305) Bear Lake (322)Bear River (1061) Beartown (327) Beaver Ck Village (1041) Berthoud Summit (335) Bison Lake (345)Black Mountain (1161) Brumley (369) Buckskin Joe (938) Buffalo Park (913) Burro Mountain (378) Butte (380) Cascade (…

• • 

    Jason Abdilla ‎”Anticipation and excitement run high with early season storms. Everyone is eager to get out and play. Be sure to unpack and dust off your avalanche thinking, good travel practices, and safety equipment with the rest of you gear. An early season encounter with an avalanche will often come with a ride through rocks, downed timber, stumps, or other obstacles, which can quickly bring an end to your riding season. Always think of the consequences if you get caught and take a ride in an avalanche.” from the avalanche center. Geeze. I’m a prime candidate…

    Wednesday at 6:34am · Like
  • 

    Steven Arnold was this last comment suppose to be the icing on the cake? because it completely failed and convinced me to just go to a resort.

    Wednesday at 7:53am · Like
  • 

    Jason Abdilla i knew you’d flake out on riding the backcountry…

    Wednesday at 8:18am · Like
  • 

    Steven Arnold haha yeah i already explained you, i want to get a solid day of skiing in to get my legs back

    Wednesday at 8:19am · Like
  • 

    Jason Abdilla go for a walk today and “drop knees”. you’ll get your legs back pretty quick. it’s almost the same thing.

    Wednesday at 8:20am · Like
  • 

    Jason Abdilla well. where I thought the old resort was is no where near where all the snow is. Guess Im staying home and eating potato chips.

    Wednesday at 8:39am · Like
  • 

    Steven Arnold or going to loveland

    Wednesday at 8:41am · Like

Ah. It’s that time of the year here in Colorado where there is just enough snow to tease then coax the snow-deprived into packing their gear up a hill only to destroy the goods in one run. Steven and I, without many 14ers we feel comfortable to climb right now, decided to head out to Guanella Pass to scout out some places for riding this winter. Our goal initially was to just build a big enough jump to goof around on (a birthday tradition of mine with friends since I was in high school), but when we saw the wide open runs we convinced ourselves there was enough snow for a few turns.

Well, we were right–in so far as we took a few turns just to dodge giant granite boulders and saplings. The snow was thick and heavy with a nice crust on top that made turning about as easy as driving a rear-wheeled pickup in mud. I ended up clipping the top of a buried tree, which sent me full lam into a medium sized sapling, resulting in a massive muscle contusion and sprained ankle. Steve took a large rock right to the core of his ski and was barely able to get down the hill due to the drag it caused.

Despite let down expectations of deep turns and big drops, it was still a really fun day with a friend. It definitely whetted our appetites for more backcountry riding. So, as soon as we get that season-opening dump, be sure to check back for another goofy video.

Cheers,

Jason

The Deer Creek/Rosalie/Tanglewood trails have been a go-to for my wife and I anytime we need a quick wilderness tour and don’t have a lot of time to travel. The view from Tanglewood’s summit yields unique views of the southern Front Range and the undulating expanse of the Great Plains. The trail becomes faint in the tundra after the summit, but becomes clear again near Roosevelt Lakes; a pair of shallow, trout-filled “lakes” that reflect the serrated horizons back into the thin, 12,000 foot air. Tanglewood will eventually drop you near Bear Track Lakes and a host of streams and glacial rivulets that, like Roosevelt, are humble, but offer great fishing.

Despite having spent considerable time here in the spring, summer, and fall months, we had yet to snowshoe out there. After a series of October snow storms, we were excited to head out and traipse around in the snow.

The road into the trailhead was pretty clear up to Deer Creek campground, then was dicy after. Some cars were parked at that junction, but we continued going thanks to the ol’ RAV 4′s AWD. For it being so cold, snowy, and sketchy to get to, there were still a surprising number of cars in the lot. This is to be expected, though, for such a beautiful trail so close to the city.

Not feeling like we would contribute to a chaotic environment, we strapped up and headed out. We only made it to just before tree-line before we decided  to stop and have lunch in the thick of Engleman and fir trees while rosy finches and chickadees darted above us in the treetops.

Below is a video I made of the trip. I used both a Canon 60D and a little GoPro. I’m using iMovie, which is so convoluted compared to a more professional system like Adobe CS 5; but alas, you were with what you have. It’s still a great training tool for the other software, but just limits what one can do with their footage.

Enjoy.

Here are driving directions to the trail:

Deer Creek Trailhead

Travel North on I-25 from Pagosa Springs to Denver. Drive west from Denver on US 285 approximately 28 miles to the traffic light before the top of Crow Hill. Turn right (northwest) on to Park County 43 and drive in a northwesterly direction for 6.8 miles to a “Y” in the road. Bear left and drive 2.1 miles, staying right at the campground, to the parking area at the trailhead.

 

Despite a strong bi-partisan agreement that environmental protection is in fact economically and socially important, a major issue we’re now faced with is how to evaluate the success of existing publicly funded environmental programs–such as the Endangered Species Act–in the midst of economic turmoil.

Over the weekend I read budget proposals and press releases from the House of Representatives Committee on Appropriations, specifically from the subcommittee on Interior, Environment, and Related Agencies. What I learned is that legislators on both sides give full-lipped service to protecting the environment and its inhabitants, but are unsure how to set aside funding for programs whose “track record” is all but impressive.

Subcommittee Chairman Mike Simpson admitted that though no one on the committee is opposed to saving endangered species, it is difficult to set aside funds for a program that lists 2,018 species as endangered but can only recover 21. He continues:

“By any calculation, that’s a pretty poor track record. Any other program with such a poor rate of success would have long since been terminated.”

Chairman Simpson, though, evaluates the ESA the same way a Subway manager evaluates a day of business. A hard cost-benefit analysis applied to issues like saving species is not only unjust, it’s absurd. Our politicians’ chimerical expectations are thanks to the fact that they’re entirely disconnected from the science and process involved in a “successful” environmental program. Yet, to Chairman Simpson’s credit, he says:

“It’s time to fix ESA. The best way to do that is for the authorizers and stakeholders in the conservation community to come to the table to fix what is broken so we can begin actually recovering species again. We are sending that message today.”

Despite his enthusiasm for corporate activity to save species again, he still addresses the issue of saving species as though it were an isolated and simple problem to fix. This is what is so discouraging to me. Each issue (climate change, energy sustainability, clean water infrastructure, and job creation) is addressed as an isolated problem and not as a component of an intricate system that requires extensive time and resources to execute well.

We’re in a pinch that’s forcing our representatives to make enduring decisions on the fly with minimal information. This situation did not develop over night, though. So long as politicians are pointing fingers at failed programs, I’d like to call on politicians from over the last century (or decade!) to show how their policy track records for economic sustainability are panning out…

As a participatory democracy, the question we face is clear: Do we want to perpetuate misinformed policies?

If not, I suggest we take Chairman Simpson’s offer to come to the table with confidence and forthrightness in order to educate our policy makers of the programs they decide are relevant and worth funding.

Now, if only I could get this post published in the New York Times…

-J

Links to sources:

Committee on Appropriations

Endangered Species

With no full moon to light our way, Steven and I had no reason to set our alarms for 11.30 pm to leave by midnight for the trail. Instead, we decided to sleep-in until 2am. At 1am I was brewing coffee, and just as tired as if I’d woken at 11.30. So much for energy conservation.

The nice thing about Front Range 14ers is the ease with which the urban, time-scant adventurers can access them. With that being said, though, be prepared for the shock-smashing, lip-biting trudge up the road to Grays and Torreys. If Steve was not able to drive his Xterra, we’d need to stop at the lower parking area (close to 2 miles, I believe, below the trailhead) and walk up a chunky granite road, past private land with idyllic cabins, and arsenic and cadmium soaked streams (heavy mining has made the ostensibly clear water questionable for generations).

We were the first climbers at the trail and could see the two peaks thanks to a foot of snow that had fallen a day or so earlier. Not long, however, after we began our climb, a car pulled up in the lot. Then, a matter of 15 minutes later, another car. Grays and Torreys, like Quandary, Bierstadt, and Longs, see thousands of boot and trekking pole use annually. And, come winter, telemark skis will slice open the snow leading to the peaks.

Conversation at those hours, if recorded, would keep both Steve and I out of politics and serious relationships with women. Something about our brains being frozen, lacking oxygen, sleep-deprived and fueled on cheap coffee and caffeine-soaked gummies (GU makes some seriously tasty energy candy) turns our English into a fetid slew of obscenities. I only mention this because it creates laughter–and at those times and altitudes, and with long switchbacks glaring down at you, laughter is my one response to misery that keeps my feet moving one in front of the other. When the day is over, we admit our lunacy and return to a more civil way of speaking and living.

At the top of Grays we took a few photos, watched a poor climber try to stay warm against near 0F winds in nothing but shorts and a t-shirt, then trekked over to Torreys.

We’d made the decision to climb down Kelso Ridge because I wanted to up our experience from cat 2s to a cat. 3 climb. Kelso seemed like a great place to begin. With just enough snow to turn everything into an ice skating rink, we questioned our decision to continue on the narrow granite spine. But with slow, deliberate steps, some crying from Steven, and some reserved horror from me, we made our way safely.

This is the first time, though, that I’ve ever been assured of imminent death if I made mistake. Scooting across a knife edge of granite was thrilling, but it was, as Steven said, “having an ass full of granite with death on both sides,” which can be less than “fun” for some. It took a long time to go that way, but, when it was over, we felt empowered. This was my first taste of  climbing in a more technical sense, even though we hardly needed ropes or other gear, it was definitely more challenging mentally, which I crave in outdoor sports.

In the end, it is a circuit that can be completed by most anyone–but be prepared to take your time.

Cheers,

JCA