Breakout!

While hiking the other day...





This is a lava breakout. Lest you think volcanoes go boom all the time, this is the only current surface activity on the entire island. I have some pics in the photo album of the solid results of breakouts like this. Its fascinating watching the real-time formation of lava morphology (forms). It is not often in geology that one is able to see the actual process of formation of a given structure or phenomena. Real-time Geology! Woohoo!

Digital Imagery of the Awesomeness of Nature

I mean "awesomeness" in the classic sense. As in, that which inspires awe, a feeling of terror, smallness, inferiority, that which makes us so very aware that we are merely human.

Well, to be perfectly honest, most of what follows is better suited to a volcanology textbook than the Book of Revelations. I've been taking pictures of features that I feel most appropriately showcase the strange and wonderful world of active volcanoes.

Unfortunately, Picasa is being most unhelpful....Ok, this is a load of bullshit. Back in the spring, I could upload an entire album with on click onto Picasa. Now I have to do it five pictures at a time! Screw that, this is a regression. I thought everything on the Net was supposed to get better. Where's the Facebook-style outcry on the castration of Picasa?

Booooooooooooooooooo *breath* boooooooooooooooooooooooo

Here is a video of the coastal entry flow, ie where the active lava flow is emptying into the ocean.



Alrighty then, I'll keep posting photos to Observations_Hawaii_Volcanoes on Picasa, and hopefully we'll eventually get a whole album up. Damn Picasa, damn Google.

A final note on Hawaii's awesomeness... the highest Obama vote % of any state in the nation!!

Why Volcanoes go boom ,part deux

All right, I promised an explanation of sorts for why Kilauea occasionally violently explodes. The best idea i've heard (please note that this is merely an educated guess swiped from some smart volcanologists) is that falling rocks around the crater rim trigger the eruptions. There is an active lava surface a few hundred meters below the rim, not exactly sure as it certainly fluctuates. Anyways, the surface of the lava tends to crust over, which seals in gases that would enjoy bubbling out of the lava. The rocks tumble down and bust through the crust, which all of a sudden releases a huge amount of pressure, resulting in an explosion of pulverized lava crust (seen as ash) and gas.

Any questions?

As far as pic's go, I'm currently working on a sweet volcano photo album, complete w/ witty comments about the poor fool about to get overrun by the advancing flow...

Halema'uma'u Explodes! Again! ...and again...

For those volcano watchers out there, you already know that Kilauea's central crater and continuously erupting vent Halema'uma'u has been about as volatile as the stock market of late. We had the biggest explosion since September 2nd this past Sunday (the 12th), and then had two more big ones yesterday (the 14th). I biked to work this morning (the 15th) in a muddy shower of ash and rain from this morning's latest eruption.

To summarize basic activity at Halema'uma'u, it has been consistently venting a large plume of steam, gas and ash since early March. This is technically an ongoing eruption. Very passive, basically just the de-gassing of the lava lake that is a few hundred meters below the surface. But every now and then, something explosive happens, and the tranquil white plume turns into a roiling brown mushroom cloud, showering ejecta in the immediate vicinity. Anything thrown out of a volcano during an eruption is called ejecta. This includes pulverized rock, or ash, molten lava and bits of rock ripped off the walls of the vent. Its exciting, there are usually huge flames and loud noises. The numerous seismometers around the crater all record big earthquakes.



That is a picture from a remote camera installed on the crater rim during the Tuesday afternoon eruption. I was sitting at a desk overlooking the crater at the time, but lamentably had my eyes stuck inside a microscope.


One of the things the folks at HVO do very well is put cool videos of impressive volcanic activity on their website for public display. You will enjoy these, I promise. The first is taken by a webcam sitting in the observatory atop our building, the second is taken by the crater rim camera (time-lapse, sped up).









Wow!! Damn, did you see that camera get covered in ash! Wow, cuz that's the exact spot we stand at to try and catch a glimpse of the lava lake when we do the daily ash collection. Good thing that hit when nobody was there...

The question you are all asking, I'm sure, is Why? Why does this normally passive volcano all of a sudden blast out ash, gas and lava?

I will answer that in the next post...soon to come.

View from the Top of the World

My field work is centered on Mauna Loa, often cited as the world's largest mountain, as measured from the sea floor where this behemoth begins its rise from nearly 30,000 feet below sea level to over 13k above sea level. Take that mount everest. Yet this strange mountain has no peak, no glaciers, not even a decent cliff or pinnacle to climb. It's profile is as bland as can be. This, folks, is a shield volcano. So named because of the profile of a shield...





Two surprises. First, you win a prize if you realized that this pic is of Mauna Kea (taken from Mauna Loa). Two, you win an even bigger prize if you realize that I actually took this photo, and didn't pirate it from the web or a friend (as I have nearly every other picture i've ever shown anyone). I don't have a good pic of Mauna Loa's profile that I have taken, and I'm trying to learn how to use my new camera, so i'm gonna stop stealing people's pics...hopefully.

Next photos...taken from Mauna Loa summit, after a helicopter ride to the top, thank you US Government for funding my good time.



--- The dark puffy clouds are the top of the eruption plume spewing out of Kilauea, the actively erupting volcano in my backyard ----


--- A panorama of Makuaweoweo, the summit crater of Mauna Loa. The field of view is about 6km across. Big-ass crater. ---

I'll make a Picasa photo album sometime soon to exhibit the coolest I have to offer.

It's the Volcano, Run for Your Lives!

Pics, Movies and Links full of Volcano Goodness!



Ocean Entry! Lava flowing into the Sea at Kalapana.
















Latest Update from HVO on eruption status...
Visual Confirmation of the Lava Lake in Halema'u ma'u


Amazing Movie of the Halema'u ma'u lava lake!!





More Videos!

Back in Action!

Alrighty then, the months of June July and August have gone and passed us bye. I sincerely hope they were as wonderful as summer should be.

June, in the world of this wanna-be geologist, was anything but summer. Instead, it was highlighted by freeezing my ass off on Azungate, a 20k foot plus mountain in Peru, with best buddies and ExRoommates Extraordinaire's Erin Noble and Elihu Bogan. And intense rounds of amoebic dysentery that left me frail and weak and flatulent. Well worth the price of an epic trip with the ExR Ex's.

July and August were highlighted by self-indulgent adventures throughout the great U S of A. A two week long Baseball Blues and BBQ roadtrip with Hilarious Highschool Buddies Anders Makoski and Grunny and our trusty vehicle Cal Ripken Jr took us to 7 different ballparks, countless beers and plenty of good times with generous friends across the eastern half of this great country. Then it was off to St. Paul, MN with Sal, after saying goodbye to Rochester. As you may have heard, my mother has sold the house at 34 Greenwich Lane and is moving to Salem Oregon in November. To all those who have enjoyed a night in The Basement, thanks for making it the best hangout in Brighton. "Good times, bad times, you know we've had our share..."

Two weeks in Minnesota, hitting up the wonderful Boundary Waters Canoeing Area Wilderness with Dan and Sal. Me and Sal diligently fished every day, after having been told by everyone we asked that we would catch more fish than we would be able to eat. Well, we caught a lot of crawdad's. And one big fat leach. But fish? Not so much. Lost a bunch of tackle setups to snags, for sure. But did anything actually bite on our delicious looking hooks? Nope. Why is fishing so easy when you are doing it with somebody who knows what they are doing, but so impossible when you're on your own?

Then me and El Viejo (Dan Wershow) took Bessie (Sal's truck) and booked it cross-country, reenacting the famous journey of the Blue '90 Subaru Legacy that took Hal, Sam and Dan east to Rochester in the Summer of '91. So long East Coast, its been fun, but I'm 100% West Coast now. You heard it here first, no more of this bi-coastal ambiguity, I'm finally choosing sides. My apologies to all the good folk out east, but...it's better out here.

Which brings me to Seattle. Here I am, the best city on earth. At least in the summer. Which thankfully has extended into September. This is home. And that really means something coming from a restless nomad such as myself.

That being said...I'm off to Hawaii in one week. To work on volcanoes for the next 5 months. I'll be working for the USGS's Hawaii Volcanoes Observatory. I will be mapping Mauna Loa, which means running from (cold) lava flow to lava flow and putting them all on a GIS map. Lots of field work, but plenty of time at the computer as well. The point is to construct an incredibly detailed life history of Mauna Loa, which can be used both to predict future behavior and as a case-study to better understand analogous volcanoes elsewhere.

Interestingly enough, much like my travels in tropical Peru, I will be once again freezing my ass off. Mauna Loa tops out at 13k feet, and becomes covered in snow by December, effectively ending my field work. So i'm packing all gloves, long underwear, a down bag, a parka, winter hats, etc as I head off to Hawaii...wierd.

Look for volcano posts coming up. If you have any opportunity to come out to the Big Island of Hawaii between now and February, I promise to give you a backstage, VIP tour of The Volcano.


------

Hal the Wanna-Be Volcanologist

Thoughts on the Rio Ramis Survey...

Summer vacation is here!! After two grueling months in Quito studying Spanish and one grinding month in Puno, work is done and play is here! I met up with Elihu and Erin in Cuzco a week ago, and we took off for a circumnavigation of Azungate, an imposing massif a few hours southeast of Cuzco.

It was fun.

As much as i´d love to fill that in with tales of adventures, I should talk bout my work in Puno first, before I forget it all.

I set out to survey the vast majority of the Rio Ramis watershed with the goal of documenting what was screwing up the river. I planned on accomplishing this using both fancy scientific equipment and by interviewing the people who lived along the river and are intimately affected by changes in its quality. I conducted the survey with the local Riverkeeper Hector Flores, an Aymara guy from Isla Anapia, an island in the middle of Lago Titicaca. Over the course of six days, we sampled water, took photos, marked sites by GPS and interviewed people from Crucero to the mouth of the river in Lago Titicaca.



Here is what we found...
The river is seriously messed up. The vast majority is biologically dead. We didn´t find the first fishermen (and therefore fish) till nearly 2/3rds of the way downstream. This was a historically rich trout and pejerrey fishery. The only type of aquatic vegetation encountered was various types of algae. The lake waters, in contrast, still have abundant llachu and totora, the dominant native water plants.
Sediment contamination was prevalent throughout the river, but most obvious higher up. This basically means there is too much crud in the water, which interferes with fish breathing, photosynthesis, irrigation and any other way the water is used. Water levels were very low because it was the dry season, so we were able to observe the exposed river bed in many places. Exposed cobbles were systematically covered in a fine yellow powder called lamas. This is a result of mining operations upstream, which separate gold from waste rock by first pulverising the combination and then washing it with river water. The waste water goes downstream with a heavy load of pulverised rock, otherwise known as rock flour. Besides the lamas, this also produces a classic milky turquoise color in the water, similar to glacial-fed rivers.
But sediments were not the only culprits. Each town along the river had its own untreated sewage flowing into the river. The town dump was usually located right next to the sewage outlet, contributing huge quantities of trash of every type. Heavy metals such as mercury are presumably being washed downriver from the mines as well, although we lacked the equipment to measure them. Clothes are regularly washed in the river, sending streams of detergent downstream as well. Insecticides used by farmers inevitably wind up in the river. The list goes on....




Along the course of documenting this devastation, I was struck by the different ways in which we gathered information. The three primary methods were via water sampling, our own observations and the observations of the people we interviewed. Each had its own strengths and weaknesses.
I had a box of expensive meters which measured Dissolved Oxygen, Temperature, Conductivity, pH, Nitrate, Phosphate, and Turbidity. But oftentimes these readings failed to support what I was obviously seeing. For example, we sampled just downstream of the sewage outlet of Azangaro, a large city on the river, expecting to find extremely elevated nutrient levels (Nitrate and Phosphate). Yet the results were unexceptional. It turned out that the late afternoon wind was actually creating a reverse current in the shallow river, causing the sewage to temporarily flow upstream. The point here is that water sampling with high tech equipment really only gives a temporary snapshot of a very small pocket of water in a large dynamic system. Still, numbers make powerful arguments and using expensive equipment gives an air of legitimacy to scientists.
The physical appearance of the river and its surroundings gave very strong clues to what was going on. The milky turquiose appearance and the lamas easily pinpointed mining contamination. These observations were consistent along the length of the river and reflected the sum of the season´s contamination. In contrast, Turbidity and Conductivity (which essentially measure how much stuff is floating in the water) gave irregular and minimal indications of sediment contamination.
The testimony of the people was surprisingly consistent. Every person we interviewed told a similar story of how the river used to a thriving biotic system, full of fish and healthy water. Then the mining contamination began, and now the fish have died, the water is murky and dirty, animals get diarrhea and die from drinking it and crops wither when irrigated with it. The utility of this form of documentation is its long term view. The people we interviewed have been intimately living with the river for generations. These are not city folk getting their water from a tap. These were the farmers and fishermen who subsist on what the river can provide.
Still, there are weaknesses to relying on human observation. The very consistency of the testimony was suspicious. I firmly believe that human nature tends to take a rosy view of the past. Everything was always better back then, as any old timer will say. This extends to college seniors talking about how much cooler and more fun their school was when they were freshman. One forty-five year old farmer told me how tall the crops grew when he was five, and how much shorter they are now. I have similar memories of how deep the snow was when I was tiny and how shallow it is now. Human testimony is important, but it needs to be backed up by scientific measurements to guard against the imperfections of memory and the desire to push a certain agenda.


We came, we saw and measured and interviewed, so what happens now? Well, this was officially a preliminary survey designed to set the stage for a more serious one (that can measure heavy metals) in the future, so not too much. This is the frustrating part of many documentation projects. We know there are problems, but the people affected by the contamination already knew that, so what have we really accomplished?

The actual political situation in Peru regarding pollution mitigation is complicated and depressingly corrupt. Suffice to say the government appears incapable of resolving the problems, even though it is quite aware. This turned my thinking towards the personal responsability of the people of the Rio Ramis to protect their own water. The standard response of the people I interviewed was that all the blame lies on the mines upstream and they should be shut down. This is not true and not feasible. Agriculture, urban populations and fisherman deserve a share of the blame as well. Furthermore, the mines are the backbone of the economy. Shutting them down would be a disaster for thousands of people in an already impoverished region. What really struck me was that the same people complaining about the contamination would toss their trash into the river a few minutes later. I now believe that the only way to deal with this issue is to convince every interested actor along the rivershed that it is in his or her own personal interest to do what they can to prevent their own detrimental contamination of the river.

Agricultural activities along the river increase erosion, which in turn carries wastes, insecticides and of course sediment from the land into the river. Associated livestock also pollute waterways with their abundant wastes. Urban populations release vast quantities of untreated human wastes along with industrial chemicals and daily trash. Fishermen don`t contaminate the water, but they are disturbingly prone to removing every tiny fish in the river well before it has a chance to become fullgrown and start repopulating the river. And of course the mines (and the miners who work them, these are NOT faceless corporate entities!) release sediments and heavy metals into the river.

Every person living along the Rio Ramis falls into one of these categories. Many people work in the fields during the harvest season and in the mines at other times. Interests overlap everywhere, but everyone has an interest in a healthy river. I believe that this argument can be justly made to everyone along the river. You do your part to protect the river; reduce erosion, support the development of a sewage treatment plant, only take adult fish, pressure the mine to build a containment pond, and STOP TOSSING TRASH IN THE RIVER!

If the population of the rivershed can be convinced of their personal responsability, and educated about what they can easily do to protect the river, then the corrupt and ineffectual government response will become irrelevant. To this end, I will be developing a pamphlet of our conclusions and reccomendations to distribute to the people of the Rio Ramis watershed, with the help of Hector Flores and Professor Heather Williams of Pomona College (the driving force behind this project).



Coming soon...Azungate, 5400m, lazy gringoes, devasted intestines and the Ex-Roomates Extraordinaire!!

Why Peru is different than...well, anywhere else in the world

Posting from a cave in Puno...

It`s not actually a cave, its just that all the Internet places are completely blocked from any view of the sun, or sky or even the street. Its like a cubicle, but way smaller. The tragedy of it is how much time i`ve been spending in these Internet caves.

Why?

Because I´m actually working, and working hard, and I don`t have a computer in my little apartment. I just got back from a four day survey of nearly the entire Rio Ramis, from Crucero all the way down to Lago Titicaca (perhaps useful for those ambitious enough to search for this famed river on Google Earth). Which means the fun part, the field work, is over and the hard part has begun. But before I really dig into Excel datasheets and thought provoking analyses of the social conditions of the rivershed, I`d rather give some amusing examples of just how different Peru is. This ain`t no Quito, which was often a remarkably Western city with all sorts of modern comforts and "normal" lifestyles.

Lets start with the weather, always a popular subject. Extreme. The combination of tropical latitudes and +12k feet elevations produces strong fluctuations. The days are blindingly sunny, with not a cloud in the sky, allowing temperatures to climb (perhaps into the 70`s) and exposed skin to quickly burn (if you`re a gringo). But at some point in the afternoon, shadows become icy pits, a warning sign of the cold to come. By early morning, it is cold enough to freeze over shallow, calm bodies of water.

This produces some really wierd effects. The animals, for one, are all quite hairy. I`ve seen cows that have thick red fur, almost like a dog`s. And the burros are absurdly comical. Imagine a yak`s hair on a tiny burro with a big head. Unreal. Little things like irrigation are complicated by the freezing temperatures. The farmers can only irrigate in the mornings, for fear of residual moisture in the soil freezing overnight and killing the crops.

With this sort of nighttime cold, one would expect hot drink vendors at every corner during the night. Such was my thinking one recent night in Azangaro, as I wandered the streets with my partner and now buddy Hector Flores. We walked all the way through the main pedestrian walkway, lined with countless salchipapas (french fries and diced up hotdog) vendors, but nary a hot drink. Finally, we arrived in the main plaza, where to my relief we encountered an emoliente vendor. Emoliente is odd but delightful, a mix of a dozen or so different syrups and extracts, said to have medicinal properties, along with the wierdly gelatinous linaza. I´m still not sure what that is. As we enjoyed our steaming hot emolientes, I noticed that there was another vendor not five feet away. And two more just across the street. And five more on the other side of the plaza. And a dozen more over there. You get the point.

This brings me to the next oddity of Peru. Clustering. Why in the world are there a dozen hot drink vendors in the plaza, but no food vendors? And why is just the opposite true along the pedestrian walkway that extends away from the plaza? Wouldn`t an emoliente vendor make a killing sandwiched between all those salchipapas carts? I actually asked a vendor why, and was basically given a shrug. Capitalism apparently is not so big here.

Except in the city of Juliaca, of course. Juliaca (population 218,485) is just north of Puno and is without a doubt the dirtiest, dustiest, noisiest, foulest (I should know, I`ve been measuring the river that hosts Juliaca`s untreated sewage) and busiest city in all of Peru. Commerce is king in Juliaca. Night and day, on every single street corner and in the middle of every single street, people are buying and selling stuff non-stop. The traffic is absurd, the streets are clogged with tricycles carting people and goods all over the place, the noise level never lets up. Did I mention it was dusty too? You can see the cloud of dust enveloping Juliaca from anywhere on the Altiplano. Juliaca is what I imagine Chinese cities are like, based on descriptions from Kevin Popper and Erin Noble. Yet South American folk are just about as unlike Chinese folk as is humanely possible.

What`s going on with Juliaca? Turns out that about 30 years ago, it was a sleepy little town with some unusually innefectual, even by Peruvian standards, customs officials. As Bolivia is just across the lake, it became the staging point for all black market Bolivian goods. Cheap Cheap Cheap!! In no time at all, it turned into Peru`s boom town, growing constantly on the fountain of cheap goods coming under the border. One could say that this is a textbook example of inefectual, corrupt officials actually helping development, by not obstructing trade. Of course, it is also a textbook example of the terrible consequences of unplanned, unrestrained urban growth.

On the subject of money...

A lunch consisting of a big bowl of soup and a plate of rice, potatoes and meat costs between 1.5 and 3 nuevos soles (2.8 soles to the Buck). A taxi hired for a day of field work, certainly driving no more than 100 km, costs 230 soles. Whaaaaaaaat? And the guy demands I buy lunch for him and his buddy who`s along for the ride.

I was given a counterfiet 5 sol coin two weeks ago. I have tried to spend it on pretty much every purchase since then. It has been rejected everytime. Who counterfiets a coin worth 2 bucks?

One hour of internet costs one sol. So does two minutes of local cellphone calls.

And finally getting to the subject of food...

It`s an interesting variety of high altitude tubers (they have over 3000 varieties of papas (potatoes), no kidding!), Altiplano grains like quinoa and various maizes, new meats like alpaca and guinea pig, and all sorts of fruits from the nearby jungle. Cool.

Last week, Hector took me along to a meeting of folks who were making a tour of Lago Titicaca, discussing themes of Andean culture and water along the way. I gave a speech to the group on the subject of protecting the water, my first public speech in Spanish! The meeting lasted all day, with many breaks for rituals (usually involving the ubiquitous coca leaves) and food. When lunch time rolled around, a group of women trouped in with sacks of papas, which had been cooked in a big hole in the ground that was heated and then refilled with dirt. They unrolled the sacks, creating a line of papas that stretched the length of the schoolhouse. The smell was delicious, but I wondered exactly how we would eat them, as they were of course fresh out of the earth, and still thoroughly covered in it.

Well, the rest of the folks, ranging from very traditional indigenous people who spoke no Spanish to modern mixed blood Peruvians, just dig right in, quite literally. Earthy potatoes were peeled in seconds with nothing but fingers, and dunked in a clay-based sauce for flavoring. Within one potato, my hands were completely gunked up with a sticky combination of dirt and potato juices. La tierra is sacred for Andean people, and one way of appreciating its sacredness is eating it.

Well, it didn`t get me sick, the potatoes were delicious, if occasionally crunchy, and the clay sauce was actually really tasty. And I ate more dirt than I did since I was a little kiddy in a sandbox.




That`s all for now, more posts on what`s going on with the water coming up!

The Altiplano of Lago Titicaca

I`ve now passed more than a week in quite possibly the strangest environment I`ve ever encountered, the Altìplano on the western side of Lago Titicaca, north of Puno. So of course I`ve taken dozens of pictures of all the strange plants, rocks, and landforms that inhabit this part of the globe.

Whoops, how could I forget, I don`t have a camera. And the recent change of plans with El Perezoso means we`ll be meeting up in Cuzco, and therefore I will not have access to a camera during my time in Puno.

Well, I guess I`d best describe what I`ve been seeing with words. Good lord how I loathe the saying "A picture is worth a thousand words".

The first impulse I have when I´m in a new environment is to compare it to what I´ve seen before. I think it`s a rather stupid impulse, but as Mr. Noble points out, its the easiest way to compartamentalize new knowledge. The problem with the Altiplano is that it doesn`t compartamentalize so easily. The Great Basin, the Great Plains, the Great Lakes and various Great wetlands all come to mind as comparisons.

Looking west from the Altiplano, a jagged series of hills dominates the view. This topography quickly rises to over 1000 feet of relief above the lake, making for a dramatic transition. The hills are a geologists delight; the uplifted Puno Formation (sandstone and limestone) stands out dramatically from the sparsely vegetated hills, tilted roughly at 45 degrees to the north. Occasionally a volcanic cap of basalt can be seen, usually defining the top of a hill, as it resists erosion and is recent in origen compared with the sedimentary rocks. The few trees left are usually Eucalyptus trees, just like we had in good ol` Pomona. As it is now the dry season, the vegetation has turned the hills a stark yellow-brown, remniscent of many parts of the arid American West. However, in places the sandstone ranges from red to orange to purple (the Vermillion Cliffs of Arizona and Rainbow Basin of California come to mind), creating a beautiful multi-hued landscape.

A geologist would now expect a long sloping alluvial fan, composed of the eroded sediments of the hills. But instead the hills directly transition into a completely flat plain. It is as if the Great Plains directly abutted the Rockies, with no transition zone in between. This creates a visual scene very odd, but also attractive to the eye. It is an impressive contrast of flatness and relief. What causes such an oddity? Why, a paleo-lake of course. In this case, it is Pleistocene (Ice Age) Lake Ballivián, which gradually retreated to become present day Lago Titicaca. The lake would`ve continually spread out the sediments coming off of the hills, preventing the buildup of a slope. Give it another 10k years, and we`ll see a characteristic Great Basin alluvial fan.

A brief human interlude on the landscape...

The Andean societies are famous for their ability to survive and thrive in harsh environments, and particularly famous for their asthetic sense of the mountains. The people of this region live very basic agriculture lifestyles, almost entirely dependent on the materials at hand for food and shelter. It is a classic example of human ingenuity in the face of challenging conditions.

Back to the description...

The human touch on this landscape is strong, yet complementary. The hills are completely saturated with Andinas, ancient agricultural terraces. The horizontal lines of the terraces contrast with the sloped lines of the sedimentary formations. They are not used anymore, partly because they were built when Lago Titicaca was still retreating from its Pleistocene high level and there was therefore much less arable land. At the foot of the hills can be found the modern day signs of humans, in the form of houses. Here the houses are almost entirely constructed of sandstone from the hills. The construction materials are extremely local, to the point that a hill that changes from red to purple sandstone is exactly matched in color by the houses at its base.

Yet just a few hundred meters from the base of the hill, there is not a stone to be found. This region is the old lake bed, and is still an active flood plain during the rainy season (January through March, approximately). The soil is relatively fertile, but extremely hard (because its the dry season now). Where it is not cultivated, it is covered in a sod-like layer of vegetation. This sod is either turned over (to oxigenate the soil and prepare it for cultivation) or literally cut out in bricks to make the houses, just like the settlers did on the Great Plains. So if you live at the foot of the hills, you have a stone house. If you live a few hundred meters away, you have a sod house.

This is a very arid environment during the dry season; everything is baked hard as a rock, and the color green is not existent. Yet this same floodplain is intermixed with lush swamps and wetlands, full of birds and exuburant algal growths (not necesarily a good thing from a biodiversity point of view). This is the point where I get overwhelmed and stop trying to categorize this landscape. And we haven´t even gotten to the huge lake, full of totora reeds (which of course are used to make floating islands and houses for the people who live ON the lake) and a threatened but formerly thriving fishery.

Enough writing, back to work, I`m off to conduct a survey of the Rio Ramis for the next four days with my new buddy Hector Flores, an Aymara who was born on an island in the lake. Check out Google Earth, try to trace the rivers from NW Lago Titicaca through towns like Taraco, Azongaro, San Anton and La Rinconada to get an idea of what we`re heading up.

To summarize what I`ve been trying to describe...this is a landscape completely unlike anything I`ve ever seen. I`m in awe of it.

Help! I´m locked in a small dark room...

...with half a dozen teenagers playing Counterstrike and Starcraft. Oh this brings me back.

But outside, there are chants, crashes, thuds and other sounds signifying that the huelga (strike) that has paralyzed Puno for the past two days seems to be cresting right outside this Internet place. Hence the sheetmetal door that is locked down, blocking out all sunlight, but not sound.

So I´m in Puno, Peru on the western shore of Lago Titicaca, happily busy with environmental field work focused on the Rio Coata (sewage contaminated) and the Rio Ramis (mining sediments and heavy metals). Of course, I had to get here from Quito, and that turned out to be a delightful week long voyage, highlighted by incredible hospitality at all points along the way.

Over the course of the week ( Saturday May 3 through Saturday May 10) I passed nights in Riobamba, Baños, and Guayaquil (all in Ecuador) and Lima, Peru. I never once payed for lodging. La familia, who own the apartment in Quito, hosted us (El Perezoso y El Guía Perdido) in Riobamba as honorary uncles of the little kiddies.

In Baños, we had been planning to camp out on a mirador (spot with a kick ass view), but discovered it was dominated by a large radio-antennae contraption that hissed menacingly. So we headed up mountain (Tunguruahua, a currently erupting volcano!) looking for a flat spot. After a few hours, it was very dark and we found ourselves in a tiny village. After presenting ourselves as adorable but lost gringos (pretty natural for El Perezoso y El Guía Perdido), we were graciously invited to sleep under the roof of the school´s outdoor concrete play court. We declined, insisting that we preferred to sleep out in the open, because we had a tent, so they let us sleep in a field. As we waited the thirty minutes or so required to boil water with our homemade alcohol stove, two little girls from the village showed off their english skills, learn from a Peace Corp volunteer. We woke up the next morning sopping wet in a perpetual mist, musing that perhaps we should have accepted the roof.

On to Guayaquil, but this time by myself, as Noble returned to Quito. Here I was met by my friend Carlita, a former inhabitant of our apartment. We spent the day hanging out on the river front, and even caught an IMax feature, Forces of Nature, which was absurdly cool, cuz it had volcanoes and earthquakes.

Then I hopped a flight to Lima, where I was met by a complete stranger who greeted me with a huge hug. Her name is Denisse, she met Noble in China in the fall, and was completely happy and excited to host me for a couple days in Lima. Her entire family, it turned out, had driven to the airport to greet me. One day in Lima quickly turned into two, life was just too good with Denisse y familia. Finally, I reluctantly got on a piece of shit bus for a 24 hour bus ride through the mountains to Puno, knowing that I was turning my back on the last warm weather and comfort I would see for the next 6 weeks.

I arrived in Puno the next day after a sleepless night, cold miserable tired achy sore and of course with a hefty dose of altitude sickness ( sea level to 12.5k feet in 24 hours will do that). I made my way to my apartment (courtesy of Professor Heather Williams of Pomo College), and was of course immediately greeted with a steaming cup of mate de cocá, the omnipotent Andean tea made from coca leaves.

Ok, so that´s a nice story, but what´s the point? In our world of motels (in the States) and hostals (when travelling abroad), there is a thoroughly constructed infrastructure of traveler accomodations that spans the globe. No need to worry about where you will sleep when travelling. This is wonderful, it has made traveling cross country and around the world an accesible reality for nearly every American.

But what did people do before, in the days before cars and airplanes and common-place world travel? For that matter, what do people do in parts of the world (such as the remote Andes) where this infrastructure does not exist? I am reminded of stories I heard at some point in my childhood Jewish education, of wandering wiseman in the Pale of Russia. I was always struck by how humble and simple they were; they would invariably travel with nothing more than a small knapsack full of nothing but books. How did they eat, how did they sleep, how did they protect themselves from the elements, I would wonder. My only point of comparison was backpacking in the Cascades with everything I could ever need on my back.

Well, these early travelers relied on the hospitality of strangers. At each town, they would simply go door to door, politely asking for a bowl of soup and a spot in the barn by the cow. In return, they told stories of the outside world and shared their wisdom as the peasant family gathered around. The amount of trust on each side in these exchanges is astounding. It is nearly unimaginable in modern America, although CouchSurfing is fighting the good fight. I can´t quite put it into words, but this type of human interaction reveals something very profound about the best side of human nature.

In contrast, your typical traveler on the Gringo Trail of Latin America is constantly suspicious of being robbed or cheated at each hostal, and the locals view the gringos as a source of cash and absurdity. Yes, a generalizacion, but it will do for now.

I believe this antiquated hospitality and exchange can still be found. One must simply leave the world of modern travel infrastructure. After all, there are still regions of the world where there are no roads and no cars and no hostals, but there are of course people living lives and even travelling.

This is why we three amigos (for those who haven´t heard the good news, El Rojo -- Elihu Bogan -- is joining us in Cuzco on June 2nd) are heading out for the remote Andes, far from Macchu Pichu and the gringo crowds. We are compromising; we will have big packs with a tent and all those other fun backpacking toys. And we also would dearly like to stumble across a previously undiscovered Incan ruin. But, for me at least, I am fascinated by the intimate interactions of complete strangers in a world far removed from our own.



Next up... a detailed description of the otherworldy environment around Lago Titicaca, like nothing I´ve ever seen.

Feliz Cumpleanos a mi!

As so often happens in life, everything accelerates drasticallly as any sort of deadline approaches. In this case, Saturday May 3rd is my last day in Quito, so of course life has taken on an adrenaline laced speed, quite the opposite of the preceeding two months.

That is not to say nothing happened during those delightful months. They have passed quite well, I have learned so much Spanish that it has thoroughly scrambled my beleagured mind, and I now speak less intelligently than I did a month ago, but at least I can understand way more. Along with the minutia of everyday life (excuse any spelling mistakes, the spellchecker is in spanish), a number of highlights have occured that are worth relating.

Mi Cumpleanos...

I turned 23 on April 22nd, Earth Day. I woke up in a great mood, despite the crippling abdominal pains induced by my ingestion of paiko, a natural remedy for parasites. ----- A brief side note: natural does not imply gentle, or even non-toxic. Paiko kills parasites by killing you. By far the most irritated my intestines have ever been, and that is saying quite a lot. ----- My only plan was to eat a ton of dumplings at our favorite chinese restaurant, along with a few beers to alleviate the indigestion. But El Perezoso had other ideas.

We went to class in the morning, with our well-rehearsed "Vamos a estudiar!!" echoing in the stairwell as we ascended the stairs. A card and a rock were waiting on my desk, a gift from my teacher, Lusmi. It was a very cool rock, taken from a gold mine near Cuenca, with lots of euhedral (well-formed) pyrite crystals, and a beautiful pocket of perfectly formed quartz crystals. We alternated between reviewing grammer and chatting until 11am, "La Pausa". I made my way upstairs to the roof, to enjoy a bit of sun and stretch it out. There is a small room on the roof which houses the coffee machine and is therefore the focal point of La Pausa. I walk into the room, and...

Feliz Cumpleanos!!! The whole school had gathered for the fun. And what fun it was. I was promptly introduced to the Ecuadorian custom of having your face smashed into your cake.

It should be noted that Ecuadorians as a rule do not have beards to catch the cake with.

The notable mark of my face in the cake did not deter anyone from enjoying it, thankfully. I further mangled the former beauty when I divided it into 12 pieces. Satisfied that the fun was over, I settled back, only to see Fernando and Alex, two of the teachers, take off their belts and begin cracking them menacingly. I laughed and laughed, what a great joke, they kept on cracking, so I kept on laughing. Well, to make a long story short, I got tired before they did, and was soon obliged to bend over the table.

Every person in the school got to take a shot. I've never heard so much glee. The girls didn't do much damage, but the men (or boys, i spose) sure took a special pleasure. Check out the Picasa album Mi Cumpleanos for all the fun, including some excellent pics of a cake for a beard.

The fun continued that evening as a few school friends were waiting at our chinese dumpling restaurant. After fully stuffing ourselves, Noble blindfolded me and led me on a long walk through our neighborhood, eventually ending up at the house of our salsa teacher, Christina. At this point, the 2nd surprise party commenced. Damn. I've never had two surprise parties in one day. Well done El Perezoso. By far the best Earth Day i've had in years. I felt just like a little kid again.

Other news...

I have officially been accepted and enrolled in the US Geological Survey's Hawaii Volcanoes Observatory volunteers program. What the hell does that mean? Starting September 15, I will be mapping lava flows on Mauno Loa, the big ass volcano on the Big Island of Hawaii, contributing to constructing the most detailed map ever of a major volcano. For those who ain't familiar with geologic mapping, you basically hike around and identify rocks in the field, and then make a map of how they are distributed. It is by far the most enjoyable type of work I have yet encountered. I can't tell you how excited I am for this. I did not sleep at all the night I found out, and in fact did not sleep the next night either. This is actually a dream come true: I have been hiking around the volcanoes of the Big Island since I was a little kid.

Don't let the volunteer description fool you. Its real work. I just don't get paid. This means, officially, that I will be passing the entire year of 2008 without a job. Life is good.

All right, thats all for now. I'm off to Peru on Saturday, with a week long detour of fun along the way. Summer plans are coalescing, check my calendar on the sidebar, for when I'll be visiting a baseball stadium or mountain near you.

A War of Words (and actions) between Amigos

What is the biggest challenge of travelling abroad? Probably the giardia parasite that I just finished off, after a month of trying to kill it with remedies both natural and man-made that nearly killed me first. But now that the bastard (I took to calling it "mi nuevo amigo") is dead, I think getting along with my other best friend is the real challenge.

Understand, the highly esteemed El Perezoso*, aka Erin Noble, remains the truest of companions. But as anyone who has seen the two of us interact might expect, we have gotten into some ridiculous fights. By far the most impressivly absurd began on Saturday April 5th, as we walked towards the bus station from our apartment, en route to Cotopaxi, the most famously picturesque of all Ecuadorian volcanoes. Erin pulled out his trusty digital camera, held it in front of us, but before he could say "siete" I had launched into my anti-camera rant. He had heard it before, everyone has, especially Jenny Huang, but this time it really set him off. We walked to the station shouting at eachother in English, creating a truly ridiculous backpacking gringos scene.

Well, we made up and had a fantastic time on Cotopaxi. Erin took less pictures than he would of (probably), and I satisfied myself with my vaunted mental pictures**. I won the battle; there are no closeups of my face with an indistinct mountain in the background. But I lost the war. There are no pictures whatsoever of Cotopaxi for the enjoyment of my friends and family. I recently apologized to Noble for being such a pendejo (our spanish equivalent of jerkface), and we now have an understanding on cameras and pictures.

But that doesn´t help out the esteemed reader of this here blog. And my mental pictures of Cotopaxi are stunning, really, but there are a bit hard to download. So, as punishment of sorts, i´m going to try to describe just what the Andes are like to hike around in.

My first impression? Impressively...non-descript. A bit dull. Big and bland. See pictures of Ruco Pichincha for a more pictoral idea. The Andes are like the desert. It takes some time to appreciate the beauty and diversity of life that they contain. Well, three days on the slopes of Cotopaxi blew me away. I fell in love, just like I did with the desert after a few trips.

The cloud forests (bosque humido) cover the lower slopes of the Andes. They are spectacular, and obviously so. See pictures of Mindo for examples of gorgeous wildlife and lush tropical forest. But by 3000-4000 meters or so, the páramo takes over as trees disappear due to the high altitude. Oddly, the páramo is heavily vegetated, with bare rock only appearing on vertical faces. Extreme UV radiation and occasional snow (at the equator!) minimize the size of plants, yet at the same time the abundant moisture and lack of snowpack allow plants to grow year round. A strange combination, for sure.

I´ve divided the páramo into two types, paja and alpine meadow. The paja is a type of long grass that forms tussocks a few feet in circumfrence and a few feet tall. It extensively covers large areas, with tussocks growing separately but forming a minicanopy a couple feet high. This makes it impossible to see where you are putting your feet when hiking through it, and leads to a thoroughly miserable hiking experience. Twisted ankles are abundant and the going is frustratingly slow. Traversing a steep hillside covered in paja often involves more hands than feet. Oh, and I nearly forgot, after a rain (which is always) it is sopping wet and quickly soaks through boots and pants. I really can´t express strongly enough my dislike for hiking through this accursed plant.

Alpine meadow type páramo, on the other hand, is a dream to walk through. It is thoroughly covered in tiny lichens, mosses, fungi and all sorts of other really cool tiny plants. Wildflowers abound, yet are tiny, and usually escape notice. This is percfect landscape for rambling. Nothing to obstruct the way, and a hundred beautiful tiny things to check out with a handlens.

The landscape itself is fascinating as well, particularly because the lack of trees leaves the true form revealed. The climate is very wet, with near constant clouds, which produces impresssive erosional features. Quebradas (canyons/valleys/draws/gulches/defiles) grow to epic proportions quite quickly, and can be found on the macro and micro scale. Nearly every dirt road is incised well below the surrounding páramo as a result of this erosion, revealing beautifully stratified sedimentary layers beneath. They often display a pumice-ash sequence, topped off by a thick organic layer, testifying to the strong volcanic influence on the land.

The gentle and soft appearance does not get seriously challenged till nearly 5000m, as vegetation finally gives up the feet and raw rock takes over. Finally, snow and ice dominate, and the classic Andean images of verticality and volcanoes emerge.

So now I am an Andinista, because i like the Andinismo. Chévere.

Many more updates coming this week, all sorts of exciting things have been happening. I was accepted to Hawaii Volcanoes Observatory for a fall internship, I had a birthday, and I´m about to leave for Puno.


El Guía Perdido



* the word perezoso translates to "lazy" en español, but more impressively, it is the common name in Spanish for the beloved sloth.

** The Mental Picture - perfect for those who don´t like to interrupt the moment with a camera. Here´s how you do it. First of all, don´t be greedy. No more than one a day, usually. It has to come to you. You´re hiking in the mountains, or wherever, and all of a sudden you stop and get a really good feeling about where you are. Stay stopped. Don´t move. Spend at least five minutes rooted to the spot. Look all around you, note the fine details and the grand details. Discuss, with yourself, what makes this spot special. Feel the air, smell the vegetation, remember where you came from and where you are going. Frame the picture that you want to remember in your mind. And really let it sink in. Dig the tranquility of where you are. And I guarentee you will remember it for years to come. Its just kinda hard to share with other people.

Sin Ropa

Erin and I took a delightful repast this past weekend to the ecotourism hotspot of Mindo, about two hours northwest and downmountain of Quito. A beautiful little village in a valley, surrounded by lush forests on all sides, and perpetually enshrouded in clouds, giving it a "lost world" appearance, not unlike Rivendale.

Through the magic of time travel, it is now Saturday morning the 22nd of March and we are slogging up a very muddy road towards Las Cascadas, a series of waterfalls...

The view is terrific, the weather is cool and misty and therefore perfect for hiking, but goddam there are way too many cars on this road. It is Semana Santa (Easter) weekend, and that means every single Quiteno with a car has left the city for the weekend and apparently headed for Mindo. Ecotourism merely means the setting is beautiful. It says nothing about how the setting is to be enjoyed. 4-wheelers roar bye, families spend the entire day inside their car looking out, and everyone stays in summer camp-style lodges, one of which even has a huge water slide. Definetely not my idea of ecotourism, but then neither are the National Parks.

We reach a cable car that crosses the gorge in front of us, watch all the walking-averse hop aboard, and we promptly descend a solitary jungle trail to the river below. Solitude disappears as we cross the appropriately sketchy bridge at the bottom and rejoin the masses. But then we reach a cascada (waterfall), and the noise of crashing water drowns out everything else.

I love water. It brings out the kid in everyone. I strip down and dive into the pool, swimming as fast as possible straight into the pounding torrent, only to be spat out immediately with a full mouthful of water. Just below the main plunge pool is a natural water slide. There is a rope that descends along with the chute. I attempt to cautiously lower myself down the slide with the rope, but I'm sucked down immediately, get spun around underwater, and frantically surface. I'm fine, but my hands are rope-burned and I've lost my indomitable bandana which gives me special powers. Nuts. I recall my father's advice (he once lost something important in the surf of Hawaii, but rather than despair, he spent 10 minutes searching for it, and somehow found it), and start to search all the nooks and crannies of the pool. Perseverance is rewarded with luck. The bandana has caught on a snag, and I happily retrieve it.

There is a kid, a teenager, tentatively eyeing the chute as we dry and dress. Like myself, he begins to cautiously descend with the rope. I lean over and holler at him not to use the rope. "Es seguro, no necesitas la ropa, es mejor sin ropa" I say, pointing at my hands and attempting to demonstrate that it hurts to hold onto the rope. The kid gives me a very weird look and backs off. A couple minutes later, he tries again, and again I insist its perfectly safe (Es seguro) and he should not use the rope (sin ropa!). He gives me a really weird look, takes of his T-shirt and goes down the chute. I get momentarily nervous, but then he pops up all right.

Erin and I resume our conversation in Spanish, describing to each other how we are putting our clothes back on. "Vamos ponernos nuestra ropa." Ropa? That means clothes. Woah. I just told the kid to go down the slide naked. No wonder he thought I was a crazy gringo. Like crazy gringos, we laugh uncontrollably as we imagine just what was going through this kid's mind as I insisted he take off his clothes before going down the chute. As we leave, we hear him instruct his little brother, "Sin Camiseta", to take off his shirt before going down.

More pictures to come. Freaky spiders, cool plants and snake!

http://picasaweb.google.com/haroldwershow Hit this up for tons of pics from Ruco Pichincha and Mindo!

It´s all so clear now

Woohoo!! There was sun, real legit sun, all weekend long. Now I can finally stop complaining about the weather. Waaaaaaa-waaaaa-waaaaa, I hear the waaaaaaa-ambulance coming, I must´ve dialed Whine One One.

Anyways, a number of things have become quite clear to me. I made a classic mistake in my last post. Overwhelmed by all the newness of Quito, I could do nothing but compare it to Central America. First of all, that´s about as logical as winding up in Ottawa and comparing it to Florida and Georgia. Second, I made the fatal error of completely ignoring context. My travels in Guatemala and Nicaragua were almost exclusively in small towns and rural areas. I spent a grand total of one week in the two capital cities combined, over the course of 5 months of travel. Yet in Ecuador, all I have seen is Quito, and really all I have seen in Quito is La Mariscal. La Mariscal is inhabited by high-flying Quiteños and foreign tourists galore. La Mariscal has far more in common with NYC´s East Village than it does with a small village in rural Nicaragua. So please ignore any and all comparisons I have made between Quito and Central America, for they are pure bullshit.

Interestingly, this sort of mistake is quite common in anthropology. I´ve been reading Charles Mann´s 1491, a fascinating look at the Americas before disease incapacitated civilizations whose grandeur often surpassed those of Europe and Asia. Mann gives an account of an anthropologist by the name of Holmberg who visited a remote region of Bolivia (the Beni) in the early 1900´s. The peope he found there (also called the Beni) were truly living like savages (or if that offends you, hunter-gatherers). They had no agriculture, pottery, weaving, buildings or any of the other things that are thought of as hallmarks of civilization and culture. They were sickly, weak, hungry, cold and wretched. Holmberg observed all this, and concluded that they had been living an ahistorical life since Pleistocene times. The first thing that had ever happened in their lives was his observations of them. Turns out he should´ve investigated the context of the Beni´s suffering. Just a couple decades before he arrived, their entire civilization had been wiped out by an epidemic. Further investigation found widespread agriculture, cities, massive public works, religious institutions, etc etc etc. An interesting anecdote that applies to many aspects of life, especially when one encounters the new and unknown.

Life in Quito es muy tranquilo. Tranquilo is by far my favorite Spanish word, as it means chill, except you get to draw it out to emphasive the chillness. Traaaanqeeeeeeeelo, todo es tranqeeeeelo. O tranquilEEEEEEEEE-seemo. Erin Noble and I are living in an apartment, we´re super close to all the action in Quito. There is a family that lives off and on in the apartment as well, a few adult daughters our age and La Mama, who is possibly the most hilariously overdramatic person I have ever met. We have Spanish school during the day, explore the city during the afternoons, and find amusing ways to study at night, such as playing chess or getting wasted (in Spanish, of course). Despite all the english in this text, I am actually speaking almost exclusively Spanish, which is incredible. I have a terrible time coming up with synonyms in English as a result.

Yesterday, we climbed Ruco Pichincha, the volcano that towers over Quito. It was an excellent adventure in all aspects. We made a new friend along the way, we got hit with a snowstorm as we ascended the peak, we didn´t fuck up in any meaningful way, and we finally got out of Quito. My first time out of the city since I arrived!! As I aspire to talk about rocks in every post, I will mention that I did collect a few likely samples, but did not investigate them thoroughly, due to the deleterious effects of altitude and exertion on the geology portion of my brain. First order observations...they are volcanic. That goes for almost every rock in Ecuador. I´ll scope them out tonight and report back.

Good news!! Erin has a camera, and uses it to take pictures. While I have long espoused the superiority of mental pictures, as they cannot be stolen and are very unobtrusive, they are surprisingly difficult to share. So, I will soon be posting some very sweet pictures of Quito, La Mama y la familia, Ruco Pichincha, and of course Erin and myself having the time of our lives. Picture blogs are more fun to write and to read!!!

Que vaya bien

Foggy Quito and even foggier me

Please disregard all comparisons between Quito and Central America. They are unfounded and ignorant. Please refer to post from 3/17 for an explanation. Also please ignore all whining. (3/17/08)




Nobody told me that Quito was completely covered in clouds, all day every day. The sun peeked out today for the very first time since I arrived (five days ago!), but was quickly banished from sight. Well, I was told it was the rainy season, so perhaps this makes sense. No worries, at least I´m on the Equator, so it must be warm and wet at least. NO! Wrong again. It´s damned cold. And of course I did not bring anything resembling warm clothes. It kind of feels like Seattle in the winter actually, always cold and damp, but at least I had the good sense to wear warm clothes back home.

I´ve now been here long enough for it to feel normal to be here. For example, this was the first morning that i woke up expecting to be in Quito. It is really quite a jarring experience to be half-awake and hear a foreign language being spoken in the room down the hall. Whaaaaaaaat? Where the hell am I? Oh, right, Quito, Ecuador. I live here now.

I find it very strange how fast we humans acclimatize to new realities. Despite the fact that everything is still ¨new¨, i´ve already started seeing things as normal. I see this as my brain shortcutting the overwhelming amount of information it is receiving. Rather than take note of all the intricacies of new and foreign place, my brain just deals with basic survival. Like dodging taxi cabs. And staring at every single sign that is in some way related to food. As in New York, everyone eats out here, so there are an absurd amount of restaurants. Unlike in New York, they are incredibly cheap. $10 a day is way more than enough for three very good meals. The variety is really surprising. Good Indian, Chinese, Lebanese, Italian, ¨fusion¨, American, English pub fare, all sorts of Ecuadorian cuisine and of course plenty of KFC. I had no idea it was so popular here. Zero McDonalds, dozens of KFC´s.

Whoops. Got sidetracked on food again. That´ll happen.

All of my expectations for Quito and South America in general were based on my experiences in Guatemala and Nicaragua. In retrospect, this is absurd. But so is the notion of retrospection. Getting back to my previous observation about brain streamlining, it took me a few days to realize that Quito is completely different than Guate or Nica. The absensce of trash in Quito is stunning compared to Central American cities, along with far less stray dogs and associated dog shit. There is a surprisingly strong ethic against littering here.

I´ve settled down nicely. I´m enrolled in a language school, i´ve got the lay of the land (under the clouds, and without the aid of volcanoes for a compass), i´m living in an apartment with a couple Quitenas (friends of a friend) just outside the very happening La Mariscal district. I´ve got a favorite cafe with a great happy hour special on cocktails. I´ve even found a couple brewpubs, which brew real beer, to supplement the traditionally poor Latin American light lager.

First impressions are in, and I really like this town. Quitenos really dig living here. They would never dream of living in the US. Going back to Central American comparisons, I was astounded by how often I met people in Nica or Guate whose driving motivation was to somehow make it into the United States. These were smart, young, ambitious people, often with professional degrees. Yet they knew they would make more money illegally in the States than in Guate or Nica. Quito has money. It´s very different. The young people here have good enough jobs to rent an apartment in the city and go out partying till 2am, 3am, 4am.

It´s very cloudy outside, and I believe that is effecting my brain. Just can´t stick to a coherent storyline.

As for Ecuador´s famed volcanoes...I have yet to see them. Apparently Quito is surrounded by 5000m plus volcanoes. We shall see.

What exactly am I doing in South America?

A new tradition is developing. My skateboard was stolen my last week of school, perhaps signaling that this particular form of recreation was meant to be confined to board-safe college campuses, lacking cars and potholes. My last night of school, i lost my student ID...for the first time ever in four and a half years. They are golden for discounts; a student ID in the post-student world is comparable to a fake ID in the pre-21 world.

And now? Well, after another great night at Yogi's on 75th and Broadway, I headed back to Jen and Elihu's place in lower Manhattan, along w/ younger Bogan Rosie. The cab ride was highly amusing; the cabbie had a sweet accent and was gregarious. We get back to the apartment, start in on the late-night chips and dip...and I realize my cell is gone, no doubt still in the cab. Nuts. On the one hand, i've got a million and one things to do before I leave, and phones sure are handy. On the other hand, I can't think of a better time to lose a phone. I'm outta here for the next 4 months, I'm unemployed and unschooled, what the hell do I need a cell phone for?

Ok, that was a digression. Apparently I lose stuff right before I leave places (come to think of it, my last night in Vegas in summer '06 saw the end of my last wallet). Exciting.

But more exciting is that I'm bout to go to South America for four months. What's gonna happen? What am I gonna do?

Quito, Ecuador: I want to be fluent. Not competent, not functional, not good enough. I want it to be sweet and smooth. Good enough to woo a discerning woman, good enough to impress a suspicious employer. Or at least not screw me over from the get-go. Erin Noble has a similar aim (I think).
So, we are living in Quito for a month or two to learn Spanish real good. We'll rent an apartment, take Spanish classes, explore Quito, integrate ourselves into some sort of social scene, and go climb volcanoes on the weekends. Post-Quito, we head south to Lago Titicaca and the town of Puno, on the border of Peru and Bolivia.

Puno, Peru:
This is the science part of the trip. Pomona professor Heather Williams has been conducting nutrient testing of the waters in Lago Titicaca, which I will be continuing. There are nearly 3 million people living around the lake (it's really big), and there is precious little in the way of modern sewage systems. The result is a huge amount of shit (urban effluence, to use the lingo) washing down into the lake. The nitrogen in poop allows micro-organisms, such as algae and bacteria, to thrive; these algal blooms cause precipitous drop offs in oxygen levels, which in turn kills of the fish. This process is known as eutrophication. It is a fairly common problem in lakes around the world, but it severely harms communities who rely upon fish as a main source of protein and cash, as many communities around Lago Titicaca do.

So, the problem is eutrophication, and we will be sampling water around the lake to measure the water chemistry and nutrient levels. Pretty basic stuff; you stick a probe into the water, push a few buttons, and you get a number. Our results are interesting because they will allow us to compare rainy season nutrient levels with dry season nutrient levels, which were compiled last year by Heather Williams and Derek Young, another Pomona student.

There is a 2nd environmental issue. There are a series of artisanal gold mines (meaning worked by small groups of very poor people, as opposed to big rich mining corporations) located at the head of the Ramis River, a major river that drains into Lago Titicaca. Artisanal gold mining is characterized by the use of mercury to separate the gold from the motley of crushed ore that the gold is mixed up in. So, the crushed ore slurry is run down a sluice (think of a slide) that is lined with mercury. The mercury bonds to the gold particles, resulting in an amalgam. The amalgam is separated and then heated with a blowtorch, until the mercury evaporates from the gold. The end result is mostly pure gold, although a significant amount of mercury remains.

Mercury, eh? Isn't that incredibly poisonous? Yup. And thousands of poor, uneducated miners are turning it into vapor right in front of their noses, with nothing in the way of protective equipment. Yes, they are getting sick from it. And a huge amount of the dangerous stuff makes its way downstream with the waste ore, and into the watershed. Mercury is heavy, so it doesn't stay in the water much, and instead sinks to the ground. But it bio-accumulates; this means that little critters eat ground sediments that contains the mercury, then bigger critters eat them, and even bigger critters eat them. Throughout the whole process, the mercury is never excreted or broken down. The end result is that the top predator (say, lake trout) end up with a huge dose of mercury. As it happens, the top fish in Lago Titicaca have been found to have dangerously high levels of mercury. This is clearly a problem for the 3 million people living around the lake and eating the fish every day.

So, where do we (Senor Noble and myself) come into play?

We would like to conduct a survey of mercury levels in the Ramis River watershed. But it is very expensive to test for mercury and we lack the funding. So we are going to conduct a survey to set up a framework for a future (better funded) sampling project. This has two aspects, environmental and social. The environmental aspect is fairly simple. We go up the river finding good sites to sample, log them on a GPS, make observations of the water conditions (flow velocity and quantity, fish present, water quality, etc) and compile this into a database.

The social aspect is related to the disruption the mines and the mercury pose to the communities along the Ramis River watershed. Farmers are being negatively affected by higher silt levels in the water and possible mercury contamination. On the other hand, fishermen have no desire to be told that the fish they are selling is full of mercury. So, some people are being harmed by the mine, and therefore want a sampling survey to be done, while other people would be harmed by a survey. This makes for a potentially explosive situation. We need to talk to the people, figure out where everyone's interest lies, essentially make a report concerning how a future sampling project would be received. There is a very real risk of violence in the area, so it is important that we establish if a project would even be safe to run. Hopefully, we will end up with a professional looking report on the Ramis River watershed and a future mercury sampling project.


So...that is what I am doing in South America. Actually, there will be a whole bunch more. We'll be doing a ton of trekking in the Andes, climbing lots of mountains and volcanoes, perhaps visiting the Amazon, playing lots of chess, beating the crap out of each other on a regular basis (seriously, i'm bringing boxing gloves), carousing, making friends, etc etc etc.

If you want to see what actually happens...stay tuned. I arrive in Quito tomorrow!!!


As if things weren't exciting enough...Ecuador is on the verge of a war with Colombia

Volcan Masaya

Picking up where I left off, flying out of Managua's airport...

On to the airplane. I hate airplanes. They are cramped, the air is stale, people are unfriendly (or at least I am) and the windows are tiny. That's why I always pick the aisle seat. But as I walk down the aisle to my seat, I notice I have a window seat. Nuts. Sitting down, I gently curve my spine to the right, the better to accommodate the curvature of the plane's wall. I curse my poor decision and decide to make the most of it by looking out the window...


It's a VOLCANO!!!!!!


















Ok, so maybe that just looks like an eroded crater, lacking the dramatic pointy cone that we expect with a volcano.

But what if we peek inside?















Now that's more like it!

A pit from the depths of hell, spewing out noxious fumes, baring a volcanic skeleton that is testament to the dozens of massive eruptions that have gradually built up the volcanic edifice of Volcan Masaya. See the alternating bands of light-colored rock with reddish rock? Each sequence of red-white reflects the initial outburst from an eruption followed by an ash layer settling out over time. Of course, the same eruptions also covered the surrounding plains with rich volcanic ash, spurring copious agricultural settlement nearby, such as Masaya and Managua. That, my friends, is the crux of humanity's volcano problem. They are unpredictable and dangerous, yet attract settlement. This will be a theme which I will touch upon many times.

For those of you who want to see an actively erupting volcano...Kilauea is at it again!

Juego Seis Del Serie Profesional (Nicaragua)

Tweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!!

There goes my right ear drum. It's from a whistle, one of those you go hiking with and blast on three times if you're lost in the wilderness. Except I'm in a baseball stadium in Masaya, Nicaragua, a town of about 70,000 a half-hour from Managua. And the guy keeps on blowing. For nine innings. You know how in America, when you're at a ballgame and the home team scores, everybody cheers and the stadium shakes? Well, imagine that noise level the entire game, without any break. Oh, and the home team never scored.

But what a game. Sal and I show up minutes before game time, bounce from scalper to scalper in utter confusion, and somehow end up with 100 Cordoba (about 5 bucks) seats just up the 1st base line from home plate, for only 80 C. Of course, there are no seats, so we stand behind the back row, but at least we're taller than everyone else. God Bless bovine growth hormones. The guys standing in front of us pass the Ron Plata, which goes down absurdly easy, and we have us a ballgame. The top of the 2nd, a batter gets hit, the benches empty, Masaya's manager comes charging out of the dugout, belly-first, and proceeds to scream at every single umpire on the field. After a few beers, I look for a bathroom, and realize its the wall right behind me. One fan manages to climb on top of the overhang for a better view. The guy in front of me starts in on why he loves us so much as he staggers side to side, soon to be hauled off by the cops. By the 7th inning, our Nica compadres have all dropped out, the Boers of Managua are trouncing our beloved Fieres, but the noise hasn't dropped a notch. The game ends, we walk past the riot police surrounding the stadium (got to keep the Boer fans separated from the good folk of Masaya), and wander through town looking for food. And that's the last thing I remember.

3:30 AM

Sal's alarm goes off. I pop up, briefly wonder where am I and why I'm awake, and start packing. I have a 4AM bus to catch to the airport, and I'm flying back to the States. I hustle out to the curb and wait for the bus. While waiting, I make a contribution to the foul-smelling gutter fluids with some choice bile of my own. I recall that the only thing worse than flying hungover is still being drunk. It's my lucky morning.

And with that, I end my latest adventure, and begin planning my next one. Where am I now? Rochester, New York. Where am I going next? Quito, Ecuador (with a brief detour in NYC). Why am I posting this? Cuz too many damn people asked me to keep them updated on what I'm doing post-college. What am I going to be writing abooot? As I aspire to be a real-life geologist, I'm gonna pretend to make intelligent, impartial observations about the world around me. We'll see how it goes.