La légende de la chambre sept

Il était une fois quatre filles qui vivaient ensemble dans une petite chambre dans un forêt, sur une montagne, au milieu du désert qui s'épand du coin sud-est d'Arizona jusqu'au Nouveau Mexique.

Deux des filles — les canadiennes — se connaissaient avant et étaient de très bonnes amies (même après le long voyage en voiture pour arriver à ce paradis américain). Les deux autres étaient des étrangères venant de côtes opposées des États-Unis.

Comment ces quatre sont arrivé à partager cette petite chambre dans un forêt, sur une montagne, au milieu du désert n'importe peu. Ce qui nous concerne c'est l'amitié rapide et profonde qui s'est formée entre elles. Considérant qu'elles n'avaient pas de contrôle sur leurs situations, et qu'il y avait des différences d'ages et d'intérêts, ces quatres filles étaient très chanceuses. Et très contentes.

Durant leurs semaines ensemble dans cette petite chambre dans un forêt, sur une montagne, au milieu du désert, les filles on parlé beaucoup, rit beaucoup, fêté beaucoup (surtout ceci), et partagé beaucoup. La vie quotidienne dans une place si isolée peut être très difficile, mais ensemble elles ont formé de beaux souvenirs inoubliables.

Ce qui leurs ont arrivé après leurs semaines ensemble n'est pas connu, mais on peut être certain qu'elles sont toujours amies et qu'elles pensent à leur temps dans cette chambre dans un forêt, sur une montagne, au milieu du désert avec un grand sourire et le levé d'un verre.

-FIN-

Our infamous door.

We celebrated anything we could think to celebrate.

Kate blowing out a candle wedged in a plastic cup in honour of her 1/2 birthday.

Speaking of infamous... here we are dressed as the Royal Court of Shitlandia in celebration of 7/12th Halloween.

(Shitlandia is the loving nickname of the wetlands that volunteers had to weed)

The knight, princess, and queen of Shitlandia with their flag.
(designed by Chris)

The knight of Shitlandia with the official crest.

The princess of Shitlandia in her official crown.
(we realized one day we were playing scrabble with these letters missing. Ha ha!)

Kate came to 7/12th Halloween as bycatch.
Go nerdy or go home! Love it!


Chris looking really excited about the traditional spraying of random pink string for when a 1/2 birthday is celebrated when it is really one's 1/4 birthday.


Chris' happy 1/2 birthday paper plates hung in our escape pod (tent in the middle of the woods)


Kate, Meg, and I as saguaro cacti at the Arizona Desert Museum
Go dorky or go home! And dress the same when you do it...

--

I cannot expess how lucky I feel to have made such amazing friends at the Station. Miss you guys a ton! Can't wait for road trips to Oregon and New York for visits.

Hope the planning for 7/12th Christmas are coming along!

Stay strong and don't let the Station eat you alive.

Culture shock

We went over the border into Canada yesterday. It was exhilirating to finally see the signs and get here. A moment we had been waiting for since we left the beauty of Bryce and started our marathon drives across the mid-west. For the first bit, the sun was shining brighter, the grass grew greener, and the road seemed like it was paved yesterday. I missed the desert, but was excited to see lakes and rivers and dark rock.

Then we got to the cities.

Out of nowhere, I had a strong urge to do a uwie and drive back to the southwest. Back to sparseness and empty highways. Hamilton and Toronto are nice cities for the most part, don't get me wrong, but what's with everyone running around trying to get places and driving like idiots and commuting every day to a job they hate in this humidity? And ten-lane highways? And urban sprawl? And strip malls?? I immediately recognized my unhappy feeling as urban culture shock.

Before we left the station, all my daydreaming about Ottawa revolved around going to exotic restaurants, sitting on patios, going to the movies, and being able to get what you want when you want it... Having seen urban life again and being reminded of its hectic noise and frantic rat-race attitude, my daydreams are mostly about Algonquin Park, friends' cottages, and walks through the Gatineaus. And, more importantly, the possibility of getting out again and returning to dirt roads and fitting in when wearing a cowboy hat. This feeling will likely dissipate when I am reunited with the town and people I love, but for now my car is pointed east, but my soul wants to go south.

The People Make the Place (The Hula Hoop Series)

These are the very fine and fun people I have spent the last weeks with and am leaving today.

In order of the hoop:

Ming
Mount Holyoke College / Ewha | Bird Girl
Famous for: almost beating everyone at Scrabble,
shooting back whiskey without batting an eye (until it hits her)
Hula Hoop Skills: Super cute and stylin'!

Chris
Howard University | Lizard Guy
Famous for: knife throwing, rattlesnake wranglin'
and always with a smile.
Hula Hoop Skills: Super fast! It's practically hitting his chin!

Krista
Arizona State University | Hummingbird Girl
Famous for: carrying a long pole wherever she goes, randomness
Hula Hoop Skills: Awesome! And extra points for hulaing in pjs!

Meg
Fordham University | Medicine Girl?
Famous for: best laugh of all time, grabbing life by the...
Hula Hoop Skills: Super slick; kept going even when the creepy lizard people descended.

Matt

University of Puget Sound | Lizard Guy
Famous for: awesome t-shirts, defying biology by surviving with no sleep
Hula Hoop Skills: an impressive three seconds!

Laura

University of Puget Sound | Lizard Girl (but secretly a slug and snail girl)
Famous for: optimism about one day having data, being awesome to hang out with when she can squeeze in a rare minute to hang out
Hula Hoop Skills: It's levitating! Cool!

Sandy
University of Puget Sound | Tree Lizard Girl
Famous for: Canadianism, search and rescue coordinator
Hula Hoop Skills: She can hula with her knees! Awesome.

Brittany
University of Puget Sound | Lizard Girl
Famous for: burning the midnight oil, taking long walks in the woods
Hula Hoop Skills: so fast, the picture's blurry!

Bob
Retired and happy | Bird Guy
Famous for: fastest evening cleaner of SWRS history,
keeper of the Cheezit Mouse
Hula Hoop Skills: kept going back for more. Just like he does with SWRS.
Super props for the supervolunteer. Fare well Bob!

Ed
University of Maryland | Needed Something To Do This Summer Guy
Famous for: being Ed from Ed and the Popettes, need I say more?
Hula Hoop Skills: Yet to be seen playing a sport without a beer in his hand
and his ability to pull it off never ceases to amaze.

Chris
Trent University alumnus | Dipteran Girl
Famous for: creative photographic genius, cabbage patching
Hula Hoop Skills: Extra points for style and throwing her neck out for the cause

Denise
On sabbatical | Social Science Girl ("what's with that?")
Famous for: most back-to-back evening cleans,
getting black eyed by a cactus
Hula Hoop Skills: Super fly. Until I reached for my beer...

Stephen
College of Wooster | Plant Guy (for six weeks at least)
Famous for: getting up before the birds, headbutting a mountain
Hula Hoop Skills: surprised himself with his mad ability

Stacey
University of Puget Sound (prof) | Lizard Person
Famous for: keeping up her students' morale, funny stories of SWRS past
Hula Hoop Skills: worth pressuring to see! Way to go!

Kate
Oregon State University | Drought Girl
Famous for: studying drought in the rain, being a roommate from heaven
Hula Hoop Skills: you try hulaing when trapped in a net...


Wade
Former SWRS Station Director | Lizard Guy
Famous for: recounting Station lore, winning best costume for coming as The White Man at 7/12th Halloween
Hula Hoop Skills: not worth creasing the cummerbund

--

Thanks for the great party guys!

We'll miss you too!

Yup. That's me. And that's a rifle. A real rifle.

I have been debating on whether to post about this and whether to include any pictures, and have decided to just be controversial, go balls out and put it out there.

I shot guns. A bunch of them.

Our very sweet volunteer coordinator, P.D. — who coos at bobcats, wears socks with sandals, is very educated and in touch with his sentimental side — owns, carries and shoots a lot of guns. He lives on a beautiful desert property that includes a big pit with two old, beat-up refrigerators and fire extinguishers he uses for target practice. We were invited over on one of his days off to give it a shot.


Chris took the opportunity last time she was here and this time to get experience handling and shooting a rifle. She hopes to do remote field work and being able to handle arms (for protection from large predators) is often a job requirement. She did awesome. No grizzly or lion would dare even try for a nibble.


As for me, well I would be surprised if I ever applied for a position that asked for firearms experience. They generally haven't been shown to be good communications tools (though some may argue the contrary). I went along because it was a likely once-in-a-lifetime chance to know what it feels like, in a safe environment.

I actually expected that my comfort with guns would diminish rather than get better with the experience. And I was right. Save for one little unexpected happening - for a moment there, despite myself, I had fun. Getting the bullet where you aim it feels good. Staying steady when the rifle almost knocks your shoulder practically out of its socket feels good. Not being scared or too intimidated feels good.

The first shot was bad. Louder and stronger than you expect, and my aim was atrocious. But as the afternoon progressed, I got the hang of it and gained confidence. Confidence is important when shooting guns. Nervous is the last thing you and the people around you want to feel.

I had one very uncomfortable moment with the tinee-tiny Laura Croft thigh-holster gun. I didn't think it was an automatic and just squeezed the trigger again after the first shot assuming nothing would happen. It went off. My heart almost stopped and I realized fully how dangerous these things are. They can kill people. Like, for real. After that, I was uneasy for a while.

Then I shot a massive revolver with a kick-back so strong that I had to watch the butt of the gun didn't hit my forehead. Once I got the hang of that gun I found myself hitting the targets, really getting into it and wanting to just keep shooting.

The following picture (and the video I will not post) gives me the willies. I'm sorry if it does for you too. But I do look like I could be Indiana Jones' fearless sidekick...

After I stepped back and thought about it, I felt sick. I don't want guns to be something to enjoy. And I could see how people get into them. I could see how I could get into them. I am in favour of hunting for food and have no problem with registered rifles designed for hunting or protection in the depths of the Amazon, but having guns people can buy and own that are designed to kill people is something I am very uncomfortable with. And I don't know how I feel about having shot some.

P.D. talked about it for a bit and it was obvious he fully supports the right to bear arms. He carried a concealed gun in Houston all the time. He told us that in every state that implemented laws allowing concealed weapons (40 in total) the crime rate has gone down. Every one. I suppose his philosophy and logic is well-meaning, but I just can't handle the idea that you can be walking around your grocery store and people around you can be carrying deadly weapons.

P.D. with his holster and I with my wee lady gun.

And I had to wonder on the repercussions for Canada. If the US didn't have such a strong gun culture, people who want to do bad things may have better access to guns because of cross-border smuggling. But who knows, I'm just making stuff up with no information.

After we were finished shooting, we had some cokes and went and looked at the bobcat kittens. A nice way to get warm and fuzzy feelings back.

--

Well, I feel better now that it's all out in the open. I certainly don't think I'll jump at the opportunity to shoot guns again, but I don't regret going out that day. And it did help me unload some pent up anger at the evil refrigerator industry...

The Return of the Persistent Cowboys

I had a feeling we couldn't leave this place without seeing at least one of them one more time....

Yesterday before dinner, Chris and I were off in the woods having a beer and chatting, and when we got back Meg and Kate told us we had had visitors. Cley, of Rodeo Tavern Cowboy fame, came by looking for us. Nobidy knew where we were, and he said they would return after dinner. As promised, I wasn't even done my brownie and ice cream when a big truck pulled up and two cowboys stepped out. Carter wasn't one of them -- apparently he went back to Willcox -- but Cley brought his buddy Wes. I guess to have someone for Chris to fawn over. Very considerate of him.

Wes was the rancheriest rancher I have ever met. Sweat-stained cowboy hat, bad sunburn, bad grammar, cockiness and horseshit on his shirt. For real. And he knew before he left with Cley to come stalk us that he was going to be seen by two lovely Canadian ladies...

They stepped out of the 3/4 ton truck with cans of Coors in their hand. What a turn on! We got hugs and the whole sad song and dance about us not calling. So Cley had come to whisk us away for the evening. He knew we were leaving soon, because his friend was at the Tavern when we stopped in to buy a shirt for Beth. You can't do anything in this calley (pop. 250) without the word getting around!

So the activity he proposed for that night was "driving around and having a few beers". How did he know that drinking and driving is our favourite activity??! I Asked him about the DUI he told me about last time and he said it was finally cleared up. He said this while opening a second can of beer. Coors Light this time. We made a comment about him working on his next infraction, and he laughed and said that was one of the reasons he came back to live here. To drive drunk and get away with it, essentially. His status was quickly deteriorating from "Slime Bucket" to "Super Slime Bucket". And outside of the jubillant atmosphere of the Tavern, it was less funny.

Meanwhile, Wes was slurring the same three questions to Chris and trying his best to stay upright.

On their thirs beer now, they tried their best to convince us to drop the plans that we had (that I sort of exaggerated the importance of) and go with them. We compromised by chatting with them briefly in the parking lot of the Station (getting looks and sly smiles from the volunteers and researchers walking by). Most of the conversation involved telling them we wouldn't go with them (or sleep with them) and avoiding their flirtations ("No, Cley, I will not tell you I love you in French..."). At this point, I couldn't resist asking about Mindy. You'll remember, Mindy was his "kinda sorta" girlfriend that lives in Tuscon and showed up unexpectedly the last time we saw the boys at the Tavern. I had nothing to worry about, though. Cley told me they "split sheets" last week. Lucky me.

When we asked for Carter, the two got all jealous of how the "nice guy" was the ones the girls wanted. They should really learn to take a hint.

Anyway, they finally drove off, drunk and honking. We got Carter's last name and Cley's mailing address so we'll send them postcards from Ottawa and be done with it.

End of Chapter.

Good grief!

The Bisbee buzz

When your whole life revolves around a few acres and the same group of people, it's nice to get out and have a dose of what we consider "normalcy"; i.e., pavement, coffee shops, restaurants, stores, bars, strangers, anonymity. We'd been to Douglas a few times, but the highlight there is a Walmart and delicious carne asada (burritos). A few days ago, the night we saw the rattlesnake (see following post), we ventured further west and visited Bisbee, Arizona. It was so interesting and refershingly different that we went back yesterday with the room-7 posse.

It has all the stores and anonymity we crave, but as one of the "quirkiest towns in America" it isfar from normal.

Bisbee started as a mining town. No need to look that up on the web to know it, though. This pit is the first thing that greets you:




Then in the 1970s, long after the bottom feel out of mining, the artists and hippies started to flock here and eventually made it was it is today: antique shops, copper and turquise art shops, live music, art everywhere and an endless and varied array of odd characters. Tie-dyed shirts and hemp bags are still in fashion here, and lots of people just hang around in the parks and walking their dogs, and drive around in beat-up vintage trucks or art cars.


This place is really different compared to our Arizona experiences up to date. It felt like when we turned to corner after the mining pit, we were transported to a different far off familiar land. It was like being in Nelson, BC actually. Most of the town is uphill, people often don't pickup after their pooches, life happens at the coffee shop, and walls canvases.

See the B on the mountain? Common here. Douglas has a D.
Then again, Sudbury has a giant nickel, so who am I to talk...

I think this was the dog park.

My favourite.

And then there is the bizarre cornucopia of hilarious signs.

Can't... go... on... must... shop...

AAARGHHHH!

At first I thought it would be a great place to hang out for a while, but the throngs of tourists (and we were there in off season), lack of affordability and pot smell I think would drive me batty. Nice place to visit though. And I love spending afternoons poking around semi-affordable three-storey antique shops. If you are ever in Arizona, be sure to stop into this "Liberal Oasis in a Conservative Desert".