Green Flash

Last Thursday, I was parked in a beach front chair at the Moana Surfrider drinking a mai tai and waiting for the sunset. Their hotel patio ranks up there as one of my most favorite places to relax and drink in the moment and every time I'm in Honolulu I'll spend a good amount of my off time there. Hawaiian music plays lazily in the background, sunlight filters gently through massive overhanging Banyan Tree branches, turquoise waves wash gently ashore 20 feet away and the period specific architecture is beyond compare. Built in 1901, the Surfrider was the first hotel on Waikiki, and it's pillared entryways coupled with plantation shuttered windows have provided a serene environment for over a century since Robert Louis Stevenson wrote poetry in it's courtyard.

My redeye flight back to Seattle wasn't departing until 10pm, so I decided to spend my last few hours by the beach killing time until I could see one last sunset. "Would you like another mai tai sir?" Hell yes I would like another mai tai. Before long though, my back teeth started swimming and it proved to be at just the most impossible of times to pop a seal. The sun was maybe 10 degrees off the horizon, the courtyard was starting to load up, and there I am- having to abandon my perfect table that I had been sitting at for 2 hrs because I had to hit the head. Great. I always like how you go through this weird realization/denial/ignore/accept phase when you have to go at just the wrong time and here was no exception. It's almost like a unique multi-step process:

1- No, I don't have to go.. it's not a good time.
2- Maybe if I can somehow ignore it, it'll go away. I am going to do mind over matter and it'll be fine.
3- Ok, I think I really have to go but if I press in my stomach muscles, maybe I can delay it. Oh, that feels better. Wait, it's back now. Dammit.
4- My head is sweating and I'm spitting to dehydrate myself. Wait... how much do I have to spit to dehydrate myself again? And why is that woman staring at me with that weird look on her face?
5- I can't wait anymore. I wonder if anyone would find mountaineering pee bottle use to be offensive here? Ugh. Where's the nearest bathroom.

20 minutes to go before sunset on an afternoon where there wasn't a cloud between Honolulu and Tokyo.. and I'm about to jettison my pole position table. I think I hadn't even stood up completely before some beer bellied dude in Bermuda shorts had snagged my chair with a Cheshire Cat grin on his sweaty face. Yeah, whatever buddy. Have fun when you get back to Punxsutawney in a few days.

I made a mad dash to the head, did God's Work and then walked back out on the beach to find a patch of sand to call my own. As I sat down, all around me touristas were talking about the "green flash"- a phenomenon seen predominantly in the tropics where the last sliver of visible sun before cresting the horizon returns a microsecond fast flash of neon green. I have heard of this for years but never witnessed it firsthand. "It's a perfect day for this," one said. "There are no clouds to disrupt the green flash," said another. Literally everyone was talking about it, and it proved to be an infectious band wagon. Wow, the green flash. I'm finally going to see it. Who knows if I was just listening in on a bunch of people like me who were falling victim to some viral green flash campaign sponsored by Ron Paul, or there just so happened to be a 40-pound head astronomer convention at the Moana Surfrider that day. Either way, I was hooked.

I don't really know what it is about South Pacific sunsets, something about the latitude, curvature of the earth, etc. Maybe I should have asked one of those astronomers around me while I had the chance. They are completely out of control. Just about every hue of yellow, red and blue you can imagine streams into view and consciousness. In short order, we quickly cycled through all of these colors, migrating from a light yellow down to purply orange with the sun dropping lower and lower onto the horizon. In good time, there was only a smallest possible sliver of sun left. Everyone just stared with unblinking eyes. And then it happened. Just at the exact second that it dropped below the horizon, a large, large woman slowly walked RIGHT in front of me. I swear to you, the timing couldn't have been more perfect if it had been rehearsed over and over. I mean, you almost can't even pay for that sort of coordination. Then right at that exact moment, 30 people behind and to the sides of me started clapping, whistling and excitedly buzzing about- the green flash. "Did you see that?! Oh my gosh! Did you see that!?"

Great.


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Ferry in the Mist

Yesterday I completed my latest oil painting, which I titled "Ferry in the Mist". I have been interested in painting a ferry for quite some time, and this seemed like a dramatic enough setting where I could knock it out and be happy with both the backdrop and placement of the subject. Emerging from a Puget Sound fog bank, this Washington State Ferry was framed perfectly as it churned along with Mount Rainier providing a perfect backdrop. I took some artistic license in the positioning of Rainier- Little Tahoma which juts conspicuously out from the left side of Rainier in the painting is actually on the eastern fringe of the giant volcano- and as a result is not visible from Puget Sound. However, given my interest in the aesthetic terrain feature of that peak residing next to the mountain- and a belief that seeing Little Tahoma will make Rainier instantly identifiable from the myriad of other snow-capped peaks in the Pacific Northwest, I didn't see the harm in making that slight modification to the finished product. The painting is now framed and is sitting on my wall in the main room of the loft.

Already moving on to the next oil, I spent some time going back and forth on what the subject should be. Every once in a while I jump onto a theme for paintings. Perhaps based on my upcoming Tokyo trip for the Mt Fuji climb, I'm back onto cherry blossoms. Every year, the Tidal Basin in Washington DC becomes an explosion of cherry blossoms- also known as sakura in Japanese. The last sakura painting I did of the Tidal Basin was looking the opposite direction of the Jefferson Memorial- instead focusing in the direction of the Lincoln Memorial. An evening scene, the flash on my camera lit up the cherry blossoms and provided an incredible contrast to the muted reflections bouncing off of the mirror calm Tidal Basin. I truly enjoy how this particular painting turned out but am interested in working more with the cherry blossom setting and seeing where I can go with it.

DC. Ahh, DC. What a weird town. I either love it, or hate it. When I'm driving down the Beltway in completely stopped traffic that rivals Los Angeles I count the seconds till I'm on a plane. But when I'm down around the monuments and the National Mall, I love it. Each monument is unique in it's own right- and among all of the monuments, the Jefferson Memorial is hands down my favorite. Not simply because of the commemoration to this great man and Founding Father, but also to the architecture and even the history behind this building. Quick fun-fact: During WW II, the Jefferson Memorial was built on land fill and the massive Jefferson statue adorning the inside constructed of plaster, with bronze paint to cover it. Bronze was simply too expensive and necessary for the war effort to use on a statue. Only after the war effort did the Government quietly replace the plaster statue with a metal one. The picture at right, taken on a calm spring morning a few years ago is one of my next paintings. I'm going to overemphasize the blossoms and make some of the shadows on the memorial itself a little more sharp but love the colors and texture of the water.. so those will remain as-is. Hopefully I can crank that one out before I launch in March.

I'm also going to experiment a little with cherry blossoms as the subject, but try to merge a few different styles. I really like the traditional Japanese style rice paper paintings where sakura is prominently displayed and there is a singular focus on the branch and flower. But I also like to mix it up a little bit here and there after focusing on a realistic painting like "Ferry in the Mist". I wouldn't really call some of my paintings abstract, but some do come close. One of those paintings, "Palm Trees"- is more or less abstract and impressionist with a generous dose of tans and light browns. So when I was looking at the styles of both paintings- classical Japanese rice paper and my whacky Palm Tree style I think I am going to focus the next painting on nothing more than the cherry blossoms and branches. Yes, others have done this- most notably Van Gogh, with great success. But while I love his painting, I also find it a bit busy. So I'm going to do a little thinking on the next one and then wing it. We'll see how it goes.

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Bigfoot Calculator

A few years ago one sleepy Saturday afternoon I found myself sitting around my apartment. I didn't have much to do, and Silverdale, WA isn't exactly known as a high energy, singles-driven hot spot. Then all of a sudden, some show on TV came on dealing with Sasquatch and there I found myself- in the heart of Bigfoot territory watching a documentary about this hairy, elusive and mythical being.

I month later, I spoke with a woman who owned Rainier Overland Lodge as a few of us were passing through on a Rainier summit climb. Over Chicken Fried Steak, she told three of us that as a little girl she and her brother had gone out one night with a pair of homemade plywood feet, tromped around her neighbors yard and then headed to bed. Much to their shock and pleasure, the next day their footprints made it onto the front page of the local paper.

Armed with this knowledge and a whole lot of time on my hands, I decided to insert tangible, cold hard numbers into the dialogue- at the very least to satiate my own curiosity. Cryptozoologists insist that Bigfoot is real. Can their belief be supported? Despite the fact that no body, skeleton, hair patch or realistic image has come forth. Despite urban sprawl, satellite technology and an amazing amount of logging in the Pacific Northwest. Despite every eyewitness encounter always followed up by some goofball with no teeth insisting that "after hearing a bloodthirsty scream" and then seeing an 800 lb "thing" staring directly at them, they always, always, always run right toward the sighting.. instead of Mach 4 in the opposite direction.

So, I came up with the Bigfoot Calculator. Can Cryptozoologist claims be empirically supported? There are assumptions in the below and I did my best to identify those as made. Enjoy.

The Bigfoot Calculator

Average Bigfoot height of 7'10" and weight (lbs) of 650, Bipedal Hominid. This means that caloric calculations most closely resemble humans in burn curves which based on height/weight increase at an ever increasing rate. Average Bigfoot Physical Characteristics: http://www.bfro.net/gdb/show_FAQ.asp?id=585

When you look at the caloric burn for an individual with the above characteristics, you get the following:
Average Calorie burn/day for biped at 650 lbs, resting (basal): 7,076
Average Calorie burn/day for ~10 hrs light to moderate activity: 1,769
Calorie burn derived from: http://www.stevenscreek.com/goodies/calories.shtml

All articles I have read speak of Bigfoot walking for "scores" of miles/ day. Average Calorie burn/ day for 40 miles (score=20, so minimum score(s)= 40) of walking for a 650 lb biped: 18,575
- Assumption that walking speed is 4.5mph for 10 hrs to cover 40 miles: http://www.caloriesperhour.com/index_burn.php

Bigfoot is identified as omniverous. However, in order to consume 18,575 calories a day, more than huckleberries and pine cones will need to be consumed for high calorie, dense energy meals. Several sources identify the Red Squirrel as Bigfoot's preferred food source.

An average Red Squirrel is low in fat, similar to rabbits. This means that the caloric content is lower in fat burning energy and only has a 541 calorie value.
http://www.calorie-count.com/calories/item/17184.html

One Bigfoot burning 18,575 calories/day would need to consume 34.334 squirrels to sustain daily caloric burn. Assumption is made that Red Squirrels are literally jumping into Bigfoot's hands to be consumed and that no extra calories are being burned chasing those zippy little critters around the forest floor.

Calculating out and rounding down to 34 avg/day, one Bigfoot would then need to consume 12,410 Red Squirrels/year.

Minimum Viable Population (MVP) in order to sustain an independent species and maintain genetic diversity that does not result in an unacceptable rate of inbreeding is commonly identified as 50. Yes, smaller MVPs are proven to exist. But genetic bottlenecks can nail a species just as easily as external, uncontrolled events and can quickly result in species extinction. For example: if all 10 Bigfeet were hanging out on Mt St Helens northern slopes for a town hall meeting to discuss what to do about all the hoaxers with plywood feet on May 18th, 1980 they'd be screwed. So we'll run with 50 for the Bigfoot Calculator.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minimum_viable_population

12,410 Red Squirrels/year * 50 Bigfoot (Bigfeet?): 620,500/ year across Bigfoot population

620,500 squirrels year. Yah. Big shocker no Bigfoot has been discovered.

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The $6000 Squirrel House

In 1994 while living in 29 Palms, I picked up a Jeep CJ-7. My first big purchase. I had my sights set on this vehicle for several reasons with the main one being that I wanted a bad ass 4x4 to drive around in to go places that regular cars can't. And what 20-something single male wouldn't? They embody testosterone and all things rugged about what a car can be. No self-respecting guy driving a VW Bug can lay claim to be a guy's guy. I mean, seriously.

Another more subtle reason for my decision was that for a time in '94 my other car was a legitimate hangar queen- in and out of the mechanic for what I suspected (and proved later) to be simple fix items that were killing a minuscule military salary that was barely enough to pay for groceries and gas. So, a Jeep CJ-7 in all it's basic mechanical glory was a perfect starter car to learn the fundamentals of vehicle maintenance. Over the next few years in the dry air of 29 Palms, I worked on the Jeep, restored it and added on ruggedized features: 33" tires, a 3 1/2" lift, roof & outback racks, new stereo system, paint job, etc. The outdoor playground environment meant tons of off-roading experiences, and thanks to being parked in the middle of nowhere with no hopes of moving until my Marine Corps contract was up.. lots of free time. Another case of making lemonade when life throws you lemons.

Jeep restoration was a perfect hobby for all the right reasons. Yes, I found myself on the highway with cars whizzing by as I crawled under the thing to reattach a driveshaft or replace a water pump. Most notably one winter afternoon racing to Las Vegas for a flight to Montana to visit my Godfather, anything that could go wrong- did. While already handicapped with a broken hand thanks to a snowboarding wreck, I replaced a tire and locked myself out at the airport before I could get to my skis. Then after multiple cancelations thanks to a Denver blizzard, I managed to seize both door mechanisms forcing a crawl into and out of the passenger side window. That day for a variety of reasons, I was going out of my mind. But it forced me to think about automoblie maintenance in a different light, including the need for creative solutions- especially when alone and stranded on the side of the road. How do I fix this? How can I get myself and my Jeep home without calling a mechanic and dumping even more money?

A few years later when I drove the Jeep cross-country with a buddy, I had little foresight about what would amount to an epic adventure. I have driven across the States about 10 times now and each one of those drives was unique. The difference is that in a Jeep, it is possible to truly see the country in a different way. At 80mph, blurred details are missed going point to point with only radio station changes and intermittent city transits giving a sense of progress. In a Jeep, you truly see things. Street signs. People working fields. True America slowly rolling down the road, stopping every ~150 miles for a new tank of gas. In a Jeep, you aren't forced into encapsulated air-conditioned comfort that isolates as much as it does ramp up the speed. It is a windows down, in-your-face experience, feeling sticky humidity while overtaking a thunder storm and the sharp grit of furnace hot blowing desert sand. Despite a few nail biting moments thanks to madman 18-wheelers, we had a much more common interface with people driving alongside to wave and smile, talking with roadside restaranteurs and even having complete strangers offer to put us up for a night along the way. It truly was an experience similar to bygone days of Route 66 lore.

But once the Jeep arrived on east coast, it's driving time dwindled. East coast weather isn't the same as 29 Palms, where I could work on the Jeep so long as I had shade from the 120-degree sun. Virginia maintenance usually equalled 35 degree days with me under the Jeep in a parking lot between rain storms. Not so fun. And then there are the Northern Virginia drivers. Nothing better than rolling along at a healthy clip down a narrow, winding Virginia road and then have one of these little zippy cars so popular out here jam past you, cut in front and then throw on the brakes. Talk about nail biting. Some of those jokers are lucky that my winch didn't end up in their back seat.

Over the years, maintenance issues built up while inspections lapsed. The Jeep sat in my parents driveway through one deployment to Iraq, and then a second one. Grime, rust, and gunk accumulated as batteries died, oil settled and the radiator calcified. Paper wasps decided that the front grill and exhaust pipe were fantastic places to call home. Spiders built webs in any possible cranny, laying egg cases inside the brake drums. All that time and effort spent to build a perfect off-road vehicle. My pride and accomplishment. All disappearing thanks to time and the elements.

From 1999, this vehicle had sat in their driveway. How many parents would do that for their kid? Very few. But they did, and last year my parents were resurfacing the driveway where they had unselfishly stored the Jeep for so many years. Maybe revealing a little of his frustration, Dad thought aloud about pushing it down the hill and into the woods. After reminding him of how fun it would be to pull it back up again, he decided a better place for it would be the front yard. The front yard. For anyone trying to picture this, imagine all those West Virginia images of taller grass, a vehicle hulk, maybe a sink, a few plastic kids toys and a painted toilet with flowers growing out of it. Then, place that house in Northern Virginia surrounded by quizzical neighbors who definitely aren't expecting to see a vehicle parked in a neighbors front yard.

Around Thanksgiving, Barbara noticed that since the Jeep was now parked so close to Dad's bird feeders, the local squirrel population had found a new use for the Jeep- a house. And why not. It was about five feet from all the prime thistle feeders- undoubtedly squirrel filet mignon. So the squirrels could now empty Dad's feeders and then dine to their hearts content in the relative safety of the Jeep's hood. Some people have Garden Gnomes. Some people have Pink Flamingos. Others have fountains or a nice array of well manicured bushes. Our house had a CJ-7 Squirrel House. In and out they ran, up into the wheel wells, around the roof rack and under the hood. It was time. I couldn't take any more. Despite the myriad of maintenance issues, it couldn't get to this point. Squirrels were the last straw.

So, over the last few days I have been working like a fiend on the Jeep. I have: replaced the fuel pump, replaced a brake cylinder in the rear drum and rebuilt the components, replaced headlights and windshield wipers, upgraded some underbody weatherproofing, replaced the oil, flushed the radiator, rewired the radio, resealed some leaks and scrubbed off seven years of mung from the hood, windsheld and quarterpanels. At times in the dark and in 35 degree temps, I pressed on. Fun.

Ok, maybe not so fun. But, it's my Jeep and in my own way I have a special piece of love in that vehicle. I have made it what it is today, and it's finally back on it's feet, ready to be inspected and back on the roads. It's like a whole new vehicle- the paints ready for a new coat on the hood, but on the whole it is back to being a beautiful classic. It literally is an eye-turner. On a quick test drives today, a bunch of neighborhood kids stopped, waved, and started running along as I drove past. How many VW Bugs do you think get that sort of attention? It really, truly is a classic model vehicle. And it's finally back.

Damn squirrels. Take that. Go find a new home.

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