POBR 2024 A's blog

  6-28-24 POBR My eyes gasping for the sunrise, I overheard a conversation between a guttural wisdom preacher and the broken smoke detector. An owl and brush bird competing for the sun’s praise. Today’s coffee started late, and in contradiction to yesterday’s position to coffee, I was begging for time to speed past. My ukulele will spend time with my full stomach and soaked hands. After a speedy recording of a new song, 10 o'clock marked our poster-making time. We dredged through our methodologies until Warren Seyler came and began to meander our conversation toward a sharing circle. Surrounded by humans, the air was thin and pristine, propagated by Warren’s calming energy and soft-spoken words. I felt confident enough to speak up and to share my heart with the circle. It was amazing to hear everyone’s heart and to grow a new appreciation for everyone on the trip, Sandy would have loved it. Warren believed in us, his eyes spoke wisdom that surfed upon his words, and the floor was w

  6-27-24 POBR My tent breathes above me while my nose is stuffed with decompressed emotions. Today our journey started somewhat early, late enough for me to not feel like a cup of coffee. I remember packing my day pack in the back of the suburban, seeing the waiters in a plastic bag, and then feeling my poofy hair compress from rain drops. Today was probably my wettest day yet, more so than the beaver day. Our gracious hosts Brain G and AJ came to us this time and asked if someone wanted to ride with them. Me and Gilberto in a competitive rage both joined the boys for our own sense of retribution. We got to talkin’ with Brian and AJ and they were both super nice and very knowledgeable; AJ had just started his job, and Brian grew up for this line of work. We got to our first site which was another BDA (beaver dam analog) and it was Gilberto and Virginia’s job to measure the water at 9 different points - 3 spanning the dam, 5 feet from the dam, and 50 feet from the dam. The next stop we

  6-26-24 POBR A deer clopped past our breakfast in honor of Sandy’s departure. Today Sandy, our tallest member, had to leave with the shortest amount of time spent on our trip. He was hilarious and brought cheer any second he could. The night before, we spent time talking about our favorite moments, and he told us how important it was to just be happy and bring those laughing moments that all of our favorite moments included. We dropped him off at the airport with a man hug to send him off. When we stopped to eat lunch, I kept waiting for our 6th passenger to come out of the car. When we got to the campsite in Wellpinit, we waited and waited for the Fox Trailer to show up with our tents. In the meantime, we went into the Spokane Reservation Pavillion to go check out whats happening at their “Culture Event.” Turns out they have it chalked filled with cultural arts and crafts for kids, we were very excited to get ourselves a second so we could join. But the Fox showed up and we had to s

  6-25-24 POBR A silent moment, carried by the wind, hosted by the stream we’ve found peace at. Under the impression of a soft and easy day, we all woke up late. Slept in and ate warm oatmeal and cafe. Made our lunches and washed our dishes. And in no need of a rush we fell upon our next site of inquiry, The Wallawalla Fishery. It was a beautiful habitat that TeLa __ and John __ found themselves stewarding. The Wallawalla River was healthy and strong, chalked full of nutrients for any one of its inhabitants. A lush blanket of golden cheat, invaded by a tall thorny emerald (the scotch thistle of their dead grass plains). Inside the fishery is where the fun began, post cheat grass plucking. We learned so much from the manager of the fishery, Jason Thomas, truly a man of value that the Wallawalla Fishery has gladly claimed. Our mission was simply to observe and ask questions. I’ve never seen fish so big, but Sandy, Virginia, and Ilene were calling them babies. How to identify a domestic s

  6-24-24 POBR We’ve gave up what we’ve lost. Our humanity. Our birds. our natural environment. Nothing lives in stagnance. there will always be movement. we must give up. what we’ve lost. everything we’ve lost. is what we’ve given up As I sit here, post theatric song demonstration, I feel the water and its currents. Calling the air to move and provide, for the air is meant to be breathed. Fires are meant to burn, they too are needed for an easy breath of the forest. A fire burns the underbrush and allows new to grow with old nutrients. It prevents more fires, our goal is not to burn down the oligarchy of our 4 elements, but to stabilize them, apply pressure, and release force as needed. No matter who or what you are, you’ll always move with the flow, going against the grain can only last so long. It's like dragging something through the sand, it builds up and traps you, time for maintenance. Our truck broke down yesterday, so we had it towed, and today we had the RV towed to our c

  6-23-24 POBR Our day started off early as ever and with a slap of cold air on the back. I find comfort sitting in the back seat, squished between Ilene and Virginia, I think we all find a bit of comfort. As Dr. Black stated, “They are conditioned to instant slumber.” Our expedition began at the cobble stone plains where we learned to use our hammers and how to identify the rocks we were indulging in. Our second stop was Brennan Van Alderwerelt‘s first of many story times; this one was the scientific tale of Mt. Mazama’s eruption told by the Klamath tribe of Oregon. Truly a beautiful representation of Indigenous interaction with nature, Brennan continuously circled back to engaging with geology in an intuitive way that he swears the Indigenous peoples must have known through tradition and passed down knowledge. Come to find out most of our horizon has been affected by the collision of tectonic plates that created the Cascades. That includes The Painted Hills, the balding hills, the co

  6-22-24 POBR Corrale mijo! Levantate we gotta go! Hopped up groggy as ever, chose the normal path of destruction as we broke down camp and smashed everything back in our chariot. Luckily for us, the library was our first stop of a beautifully laid out day. I was surrounded by books with headphones in ear makin’ me bob my head to funky bass-line beats with kicks and snares loud enough to be shushed. We hopped back in the car and travelled back in time to the High Desert Museum. The Bigfoot Exhi- The People of the Plateau Exhibit was beautifully orchestrated with up to date terminology and treatment towards Indigenous peoples of our modern day and from the past. The language was rejuvenating and the outside exhibits were gorgeous. I remember waking up today and thinking, “I’m so happy I’m awake right now,” it was 6 am. As I sit here postponing my rest, I cant help but to think about my surrounding environment. Has it always looked like this? Are these little hills experiencing old age

  6-21-24  POBR Warm water on a cold morning blesses the hands of the dishwasher. Today’s adventure was in service of the Forest Service and our mission: locate the elusive Pumice Moonwort of the Pumice High Desert. I asked the Pumice Steward why. Marlo Fisher replied with a, "No clue,"; it's truly the appendix of Mahogany Butte but its recent disappearance is a sign of an imbalance in the ecosystem. To further understand the minuscule world and the forces that govern our giant-infested landscape, we went to work on our water samples. To test water, one must be one with water, so we went to our friend Joy Rochester's house to shower. A can of sparkling water down the gullet transported me to the lake of Crane Prairie. She offered her life force and gifted us a grand view of The Three Sisters. The agar plates containing our previous bio-samples were distributed to become subjects of our microbiology experiment. A surprisingly simple process revealed our gram-negative b

6-20-24 POBR Just when I thought the day couldn’t exceed expectations, a pianist by the name of Hunter  Noack  lit the fireworks of a hard day's work. Hours before our silent-disco-esc piano rave, we started our day with a journey to the lava river of Bend, Oregon. We walked for a round trip of 2.2 miles with our tour guide Sophia Zoll through the stagnancy of a lava tunnel’s cold air. I was handsomely rewarded with a sticker page for finding the elusive white-blinded cave centipede. Our Forest Service Coordinator Cynthia Anderson pained our calves further and took us to the top of a volcanic butte. I had to call my family to show them the majestic site of the entirety of Oregon. I felt like the thread from my eyeballs flew so far over The Three Sisters, they began to unravel. With my newfound familiarity of the lay of the land, I was still so unbelievably unfamiliar with my position on any map. When lost, follow the river. Deschutes River was a menacing force of nature, the measly

  6-19-24 POBR Blowing away mosquitoes while I warm up from a cold shower. Today I sat and sat until my sciatic nerve pinched, the most downtime we’ve had all 4 days. It was a five-hour curve shot from Bird Creek and now we are stationed in Crane Prairie. I remember nothing - waking up, I remember waking up. The trees shifting from dense full-grown trees to even denser young trees accompanied by their chaperones. I realized that once again I had no clue where I was, and yet I was ecstatic enough to start up conversation. As fun as it is for me to talk decolonization, my most memorable moment from today was walking with Sandy to a dock and feasting our eyes on The Three Sisters: the guardians of the forest. Our stomachs full, we rushed our chores and ran to the campground shower. The maintenance man saw us rushing in, and turned around in compliance of our tardiness.   From The Drive Down (Graphite drawing of a road with trees surrounding it)

  6-18-24 POBR Today our professors took us to become scientists of the creek. We headed out pretty early to charge up, publish these blogs, and stack up on snacks. We rolled up to the first creek by foot of the ranger, a 6 seater side by side. All of the students piled in and Dr. Schuster led the unknown path for the day. At the first creek Snowplow Lake Creek, I was restless and got up to draw a scene, wishing I felt comfortable enough to walk around with my toes on the recently burned forest floor. Wishing I had brought a water filter, we took our water samples and dipped into our next creek. If the last was the fire of the forest, the next was the air. “This is it!” “What that hole?” At Bird Creek, Dr. Schuster showed us a volcanic vent that shot out cold air, my mind was blown. To end off the day, we scienced our science and cracked open a cold water sample to test for bacteria.   Lost my lead (Charcoal tree print. Used charcoal from burned forest to scrape against a tree and get

  6-17-24 POBR Today reminds me of the hill I climb when I’m on my way to Cowiche so I can “give myself a challenge.” It's always a precursor to the severity of the journey ahead. The feeling of pure exhaustion, only to realize that the hill is a terrace. The fire kept their hands warm but I was warmed just by the idea that the fire hadn’t stopped. A kiss to the river and off on the road to another unknown location. It's not like that information wasn't fed to me over and over, I just simply love the idea of not knowing where I am and having trust that the path is guided. After we met our gracious hosts, they taught us how to build beaver dams. Jeanette Burkhardt and Gerard Foley were our lead beavers choppin' and chewin' through the day like it was a soft cottonwood. Nothing was soft about the trees we had to haul though. Come to find out, the logs were extra dense and extra thin. The rocks real scarce and the foliage a pain, were tough to pack in the dams to diver

  6-16-24 POBR blog I think I just got stung by a mosquito on my forehead. And my feet are cold from sitting in the river. But my heart feels full from sitting next to these people in such a beautiful place. While driving out here I was surrounded by what seemed to be melting ice fairies, smacking up against our window in defense of their mother cloud. This was truly the only moment I remember from our drive. When we arrived at our hook-up spot, the fire was still crackling. A sort of unease fell upon us when we realized someone was just here, but we very quickly reclaimed it as our own space. Sandy and Virginia rekindled the fire, making me feel like an inexperienced fawn following its mother deer with disorganized legs. I followed chaotic chatter til my eyes met the vocal cords of the forest, our campground creek.  (Graphite drawing of River of rocks and logs)