Great Grey Owls in Anchorage

Solstice Sunset

The shortest day of the year: 12/21/11...

At 5 Hours and 28 minutes of daylight

the sun clings to the glaciers and mountains throughout the day.

The golden hour of light extends through the whole day. Illuminating this vestige of past seasons standing stoically against the extinguishing light.

Mt. Redoubt, an active volcano lies across the expanse of ice, mud and water of Cook Inlet. When will she toss off her fitful slumber and come to life once again with the important work of creating land?

Kelsey Metcalf, a student at Chugiak HS, joins me on this photo outing hoping to pickup photo techniques; her eye for composition makes this an easy exercise

Battling the wind and kissing the ice was rewarded with these images of solstice sunset on the inlet. Winds gusting to 20 mph from the southeast insured we didn't get to comfortable

Carr-Gottstein Park affords panoramic views of the inlet, allowing access to the Cook Inlet Wildlife Sanctuary

Kelsey learns about some off-camera flash from the others side of the camera








A winter cyclist tracks beckon us to explore further the icy expanse 

Certifiable? In paragliding anyhow...

Peace Good People: I'm claiming the top of Mandredungha, the site of my first 800m top to bottom paraglide takeoff as a monument to Peace.

Why not? Crazier things have been done...I'm carving out a little bit of peace in this little country of 30 million people and 8,000m peaks. I met some of the most amazing people, who were giving and of good heart, and of course I met the polar opposite. But the background behind me should remind anyone who journeys here that beauty is all around you and peace should be as easy as breathing... that is if you have the will power to leave your baggage behind and experience the here and now without regret.

Instructor Ivan pulling some hefty "Wing Overs" (Attitude of camera is correct)

Paragliding is the perfect sport to leave all your baggage behind and gain a whole new perspective.

Last blog entry I ended on a high note: first high flight, and a perfect landing. The next two flights I found myself lacking the proper focus as I couldn't sit back in my harness. Here's an example of not being able to sit back in the harness...but on a tandem flight.

A tandem Flight with Ivan, my paragliding hero and guru

We unload our gliders into the anxious arms of the local villagers

looking to make a quick 100 rupees, more than most Nepalis make in a whole day

This friendly villager was the only one to ever porter my glider at this site,

she saved me on a day that I was running a fever and had poor balance,

I flew anyway!

Paragliders finding little pockets of lift above Sarangot

Kids from Pume pack our gliders for some candy money

They literally attack us as we land yelling "Packing?!?"

Pume Paragliding Packers Play Pilot (P.P.P.P.P.)

And you thought I couldn't do it Dad!

Pume Packers Photograph Pilots

Mac Daddy Mikel revs the Indian-Made Motorcycle at the Mandredungha landing site

Caught this paraglider scaling ol' Fishtail while enjoying a tandem flight with my paragliding instructor Ivan

Left to right: Far left Dhauligiri-8168m, Annapurna South- 7219m, Annapurna I, Hiunchuli-6441m, Machhapuchhre (Fishtail)-6993m, Annapurna III-7555m, Annapurna IV-7525m, Annapurna II-7937m

Defying Gravity

Just say the words: "Defying Gravity", and I get shivers down my spine as I hear Wicked's Elphaba singing this proclamation:

"Ev'ryone deserves the chance to fly!"
And if I'm flying solo
At least I'm flying free
To those who'd ground me
Take a message back from me
Tell them how I am
Defying gravity
I'm flying high
Defying gravity

And soon I'll match them in renown
And nobody in all of Oz
No Wizard that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down!

Of course this bit of hubris is the kind to find you flat on your face having "ate it" hard.

But that is the path one takes when they learn to grow feathers and defy gravity. What's it like? We've all had a taste of it, whether it's riding a plane, feeling weightless on some crazy amusement park ride, or falling in love all doped up on love hormones.

Here's an excerpt from mediaindia.net's lifestyle and wellness section on the love hormones:

Neurobiology of Love

People in love could experience mood swings, sleeplessness, racing heart beat, loss of appetite and are generally lost in their own world. So much so one can easily spot love’s countenance. Now, Neuroscience makes sense of this ‘heady’ state of love....

When two people fall madly in love, the brain’s pleasure centers are activated causing the release of few chemicals-dopamine, pheromones and serotonin. These chemicals are directly responsible for excitement, increased heart rate, lack of appetite and sleeplessness.

Read more: Love Hormone and Falling in Love http://www.medindia.net/news/lifestyleandwellness/Love-Hormone-and-Falling-in-Love-43593-1.htm#ixzz1A43SpFZl

So here I was telling Heather that there was a new girlfriend and her name is "Parapente". At first Heather shook her head as she observed my obsession manifest in dreams of flying, tossing and turning I would wake up well before dawn, before the rooster would even crow I heard the coming of dawn in other ways; the guy who yelled "hey" or the Nepali equivalent, to be answered by the echo of Phewa Lake. His yelling would give way to the patter of a whole school going on their morning run, they would stop to stretch at the Blue Sky paragliding landing. This patter and chortle of voices would give way to another more lock step run as the local army unit would go on their morning run. All the while I would visualize myself flying, using the techniques my Catalan instructor Ivan Ripoll had taught me: from the days ground handling the glider with vultures soaring on thermals overhead, to the chicken flights gliding for 15 seconds before gravity had its way, to the 800m above ground level flights catching thermals like a juvenile hawk. Each day brought new experiences and challenges. Challenges mainly from within, as they usually manifest themselves. The important thing was that I could see myself flying in my waking and unconscious state of being. Having seen that, it was not much of a stretch to soar and even perform fledgling tricks.

First day of the course we started on the ground. The thought being if you can't control your glider on the ground how could you hope to control it in the air, plus we eliminate gravity's lethal punch, but some bruising after tripping on some cow pies and uneven terrain was par for the course near one of Nepal's few golf courses. It was a long drive out to this location and the day started with introductions, on the Basque "team" was Mikel and Sabe, they would receive instruction in Spanish from our Catalan Paragliding guru Ivan Ripoll, who then would provide instruction to the English crew of Alan (An English Artist/Teacher), Surain (Nepali working for Frontiers Paragliding, the sponser of this class), and myself. Bits of Spanish were mixed with Nepali and English to create a Dal Bhat-hotdog-frutti de mare. What does one do in such a situation you eat it all up because it's going to be an unique mash-up! We reached our destination, the top of some cliffs along above the river valley below. Winds were light and the vultures sat at the edge of the cliffs waiting for the rising thermals to give them their free flight to their next meal-so it wasn't a free lunch, but you would get a free ride there. We walked down a jeep trail after feigning interest in jumping off the cliffs straight away. Laughing nervously knowing it wouldn't be long before we were jumping off stuff a lot higher than this!

First practice in this multi-lingual course: We hardly learn the names of the different lines and important features of the glider before we are in our harnesses inflating the glider and running into the wind to maintain glider inflation while we learn how to steer. By the time the bite of the paragliding lines had turned each of our arms into that of a junkie, defined by the many welts that cascaded up our forearms; we were hooked on something but it wasn't chemicals from without but those that were triggered by the experience of learning to fly! The natural high was first triggered for me as I inflated my glider later that afternoon when the wind picked up. Ivan told us to run hard and flare the brakes to transfer the energy into a brief bit of near weightlessness. So, away I run and just before the ditch that claimed more than one of us neophyte paragliders I pulled the brakes hard and for a brief moment I was levitating above the ground to the whoops and cheers of my colleagues as I "hurdled" the ditch. What fun! Can I do it again and again? Of course theory had to be injected here somewhere so while the Basque group lengthened their welts on their forearms and levitated to whoops, the English-speaking team learned of airfoils, lift, angle of attack, and the history of paragliding and then it switched again. This went on for the rest of the day until we packed it all in, exhilirated and a bit tired. We climbed to the crest of the cliff and made our way to the jeep. The jeep ride threw into relief our experience as we passed a Bollywood movie set at a shell of a building adjacent to the Golf Course. I noted the golden hour sun channeled skillfully via reflectors to the actors and actresses as I imagined the soundtrack that was playing in time to their lip syncing pleas. The fleeting scene gives way to reality as the dust enters our lungs in the back I decide to try standing on the back tailgate a sure way to keep from motion sickness and some of the dust. The road is slicing through fields on either side with homesteader houses on each side. One of these folk holds a long bamboo tree with a metal hook with electrical cord coming off and strings it to his abode. Talking about playing with fire! We finish the day scouting our first high flight at Kao Danda with a hike into the rice paddies to survey the take off and landing zones. In another two days we will be flying from here!

The next day we're off to the golf course again, but this time we will be doing "chicken" flights by late morning. The ground handling pumps us up, and the theory and pre-flight briefing gets us even more anxious. I'm ready to fly, lets go brothers (jum jum dis). We hike away from our ground flight proving grounds hungry for more. An egyptian vulture leads the way with some Himalayan Griffon vultures already thermaling above the sun-soaked cliffs. I carry the windsock to the center of our landing zone, while Mikel practically runs up the hillside to get his glider spread out. Seeing his placement I decide to spread my glider a litter higher and to his left. I go through my pre-flight check: the cells are ready to accept the rushing air for inflation spread out properly, the a-riser lines essential to inflation are untangled, and the subsequent b, c, and d-riser lines untangled and not caught in the vegetation, and of course the old brake untangled and ready to go. My ozone major wing prepared, it's time to get in my harness, buckle both leg loops and finally the waist, cinching slightly the leg loops. "Check-check", I say into the radio. I top it off with the old helmet to protect my noggin'. Pre-flight check finished, I watch as Mikel inflates his wing, but a little after taking off he pulls the brakes hard as we did to get suspension during ground handling. This action is quickly followed by Ivan ordering him to release the brake. He lands ok, but far from the landing zone. It's now my turn. Ivan double checks everything and away I go on my first chicken flight! My glider inflated I run with my chest forward until I can feel the ground no more! In the air, defying gravity, for 20 seconds I steer a little to the right, following Ivan's directions and flare the brakes at the precise moment that Ivan asks to land squarely in the landing zone. Yes, my first taste! I'm hooked, and "cauliflower" my glider by gathering up the lines in loose coils until I get to the actual wing. Away I go back up the grassy hill a good 10m further up the hill, daring Ivan to call me down... I spread my glider above Alan's and wait for everyone to finish their first round. Sabe goes next with a beautiful little "shake a tail feather" flight that just gets me more lathered up to go. Surain's flight has us all on edge as he veers far to the left and almost over another cliff towards the river. Ivan yells for him to turn right but Surain is still looking to the river and in paragliding their is a magnetism that seems to occur when you fix your gaze on a landmark. A shift of body weight and your turning that way regardless of what you are doing with the brake/steering lines. He lands at the edge of the cliff, his glider actually going over. We all gasp but realize that if he kept going he just would of had a longer flight, what fun!

I hardly remember to eat lunch because I don't want to lose my spot in the flying queue. Alan had a rough first flight, he is a bit heavier than us and and less athletic, but his heart is fully into the pursuit of flight since he flew with a tandem pilot 4 years ago. He has dreamed ever since of one day doing it solo. Here he is an art teacher from England, I believe Manchester; or is that just the football team he favors? Anyway, he finds himself at a crossroads at this stage of his art teaching career, having shifted from a visual arts track to an interest in theater. His background is mainly in sculpture and I point out he now works with moving sculpture in theater. He is at an interesting crossroads in his life as he is deconstructing his former life and rebuilding a new one. Paragliding seems to be one of the new foundational blocks. His second flight he gets off properly, much smoother than the first. Ivan shepherding him nicely. We all hoot and holler for his first successful chicken flight! Us chickens kept edging upward and the wind became a little more erratic, coming cross to our position when we wanted it to be head on. The solution was to pull the brake some on one side and steer the glider into the wind during the take off. By the end of the day we were getting be be a little "cocky", pun intended!

A quiet moment before take off as I wait for the wind

Day three brings us to the big leagues, a high flight: 100m above ground level! Needless to say we are all a bit apprehensive, but excited. The day starts with a long climb, still cool with temps in the mid 50's. We all decide to hike up without porters at least on the first flight. I see a falcon hunting as we near the top and watch it do a hovering flight before continuing its survey of the ridge we are on. I find out later this is most likely a kestrel as they are quite a bit larger than the American counterpart. At the top we survey the flight and see the pinpoint of color of the windsock far below now framed by a group of twenty Nepalis hoping to be hired as porters when we land! Ivan goes through the flight plan as our co-instructor Graham readies his glider for a test flight of the route. He takes off in a beautiful fluid fashion, seating in his seat harness almost instantly. He carves out some nice turns and makes his way towards the river and the landing site. We see him land right by the wind sock. Perfect!! Of course my glider is already unpacked, as I want to go first for some strange reason. I think I just don't want to wait and think about this whole thing too much.

The thing about jumping off a cliff is that there is in fact a point of no return. This didn't seem to matter or was drowned out by a kind of calm before the rush. I felt strangely calm waiting, my arms outstretched holding the riser and brakes in each hand. I took a few long breaths in and out waiting for a nice puff of wind coming up the the hill. My focus singular: breath and wind, and then Ivan says, "Ok let's go." My heart leaps at the command and pumps rapidly to feed my anxious muscles with vital oxygen. The glider is pulling me back slightly as it makes it way overhead my arms tense and body leaning forward to counteract. Ivan yells: "Now run..." Away I go chest flared forward, arms back applying a little brake pressure for control. The ground gives way to the fluid current of the valley wind. I am airborne!

Defying gravity for the first time

A sudden rush engulfs me and I must focus to hear Ivan's instructions over the radio. He's telling me to sit back and then make a 90 degree turn to the right. Sitting proves very uncomfortable, I have to use stomach muscles to stay reclined in the seat. Not ideal, but this will only be a 1 1/2 minute flight and maybe we can make some adjustments once I get down. I shift my hip over to the right side of the harness and then pull down the brake on the right side slowing the right wing allowing the left wing to continue at normal speed thus producing a nice right-hand turn. Following the ridge line I see a procession of wedding goers making their way up a hill above the rice paddies to a cleared flat promenade. It looks like a stage from this vantage as some lilting music reaches me and catering folk move diligently to setup tables in anticipation of the guests. I learn later that this month is the last auspicious time for a few months for weddings. Hence, wedding processions become a daily part of the commute through Pokhara streets. Ivan crackles over the radio: "Turn left now, then balance...good" I look to the river in the distance making note of the high tension wires in the distance and I take a peek at the landing zone, the windsock still too small to afford me any wind direction feedback. Ivan cuts in again, the master puppeteer: "Now turn 1/4 turn to the right... good and balance...Graham now yours." Graham cuts in and begins the landing approach instructions: "Sean, I need you to make a half turn to the left...good, now hold that course" My eyes are fixed like a hawk on the windsock, my target. These "s" turns graduate into more open turns as I am drawn to my Virgo roots by gravity's inexorable grasp. For every 6m I glide I drop 1 m. "Now make a quarter turn, you are on your landing run" advises Graham. I see clearly the windsock with a headwind indicated by its bearing, perfect. I apply the brakes slightly and keep my gaze on the windsock and away from the ground rushing below. Only 15 feet away from the windsock I flare the brakes fully and land softly. Success, I managed to land perfectly on my first flight! Graham pats me on the back and asks how it felt, and I tell him, "It was awesome:, a loss for words. The magical moment is dispelled quickly with a chorus of voices asking, "Packing?", but then a fourteen -year old and veteran packer, Raju takes me under his wing and we pack the glider together, the adrenaline still wearing off from the flight and a big smile on my face.

Rice Paddies, windsock, river oh my!

Flying high above Pokhara a haze shrouded background

From Left to Right: Surain, Mikel, Meerkat, Ivan, Alan, and Sabe

The Great Nepal Baggage Caper!

Heather finds the Infinity point in the relaxing Garden of Dreams in the heart of Kathmandu

View Out from the Art Gallery in the Garden of Dreams

I was finally reunited with my wife after a month and a half apart outside the bustling Kathmandu airport; and I was finally reunited with my Mac Pac backpack after 8 days in transit! I last caught a glimpse of where it needed to go as I was made an extremely short connection using my sharp elbows. The Korean Air Boeing 747-400 plane sat in a taunting stance in its bay as we taxied to the gate in our Alaskan Air plane. I knew that I had a chance but my bag... no way!

After hopping to the international terminal on foot and making a few ill advised turns I made it to the Korean Air ticket counter and they frantically called down to the gate that I was coming... and one of the ticketing agents escorted me, running in high heels I thought it would be no problem to break into a run with a full pack and rolling carry-on, but I soon found myself flat on my face, as Jenyfer would say "I ate it!". The high-heeled agent squinted at me, and then said: "Now we walk". And so we did and I made it on the plane with time to spare, very motivated to see my baby!

Hari, our taxi driver from Pokhara to Kathmandu and back again

Now I've made it to Pokhara, Nepal. Heather met me at the airport in Kathmandu, I was surprised not to see her waiting for me outside with a card that read "Mr. Merewood", but she got stuck in a 4hr traffic jam just a little outside of Kathmandu. So my delay for a visa, customs, waiting for and then filing a delayed-baggage-claim, and then exchanging money was nearly perfect timing. I only had to wait and endure 30 minutes of folks trying get me to take their taxi or go to their hotel... culture shock was to commence with the hectic driving as we left with our driver Hari who was going to transport us from Kathmadu, to Bandipur, and then all the way to Pokhara.

To ask a Nepali a question is an interesting exercise as they want to answer in a positive way. So when asking about luggage that most definitely will be delayed until the next Korean Air flight that only comes twice a week you get answers such as" It will be on the Thai Airways flight and it will arrive tomorrow at 1:00pm", and then when that deadline passes you are told that it might be Monday morning, and when the morning passes you are offered hope that it will arrive in the afternoon. So, immediately I adopted an approach of enjoying Heather's company and all that the middle hills of Nepal had to offer, and diligently made backup plans with people who know what is possible. Ganga, the proprietor of Sacred Valley Inn in Kathmandu not content with just giving me a positive answer told me some options for having my bags catch up with me in Pokhara. They involved either a tourist bus or private jeep after someone went to the Kathmandu airport with a copy of my passport and missing baggage claim to pick it up.

With the clothes on my back, my baby as my constant companion, and Hari as our intrepid driver we made it to Bandipur as night fell. The countryside framed tightly in the windows of the our mini taxi moving at 40 km/h a montage of color, vistas, and exhaust mixed with dust that permeates everything. At Bandipur we checked into one of the pricier places called Old Bandipur Inn, built around the turn of the 20th century it's charm ranged from it's extremely short door entrances, ornate wood carving, and of course the balcony with a view of the Annapurnas in the morning.

Our Room in the Old Inn Bandipur

Chickens going to the butcher

A Village Elder prepares a blessing for Heather from a paste made from natural dyes

Spiders abound on our trek to Nepal's largest cave- Siddha Cave

An Old Man Waits waits near a temple below Bandipur

View of the Annapurnas from our room at the Old Inn

Traditional dress and modern are displayed here in this high stakes dice game capture

Siddha Cave Art

An Old Man reuses a bit of cardboard and fashions it with his mini scythe

We arrived in Pokhara and many more adventures have occurred since: parahawking, tandem paragliding, Nepali Highland Games, a beginning paragliding pilot course for Sean. All of these adventures will be brought to light in this blog at some point, but right now my days are filled to the brim with paragliding, Heather and the the happenings of this Nepali community. Please be patient with me as I update you.