Chasing Clean Air

2016 Winter Wings Festival, Oregon

Waterfowl Take Flight

Considering a winter vacation? I have an idea, especially if you enjoy bird watching.

The annual Winter Wings Festival takes place during  Presidents Day Weekend.

Earlier this year, I journeyed on the train to Klamath Falls to glimpse  tens of thousands of migrating birds that winter in the area. Actually, seasonally, billions of birds migrate up and down the Pacific Flyaway. A large portion winter in Klamath Falls, Oregon with it's substantial water (despite drought 4-years in a row) and food sources.

 

A Pair Of Wintering Bald Eagles in Old Willow Tree

It's also the location of the largest number of wintering Bald eagles in the lower 48 states.

In addition to writing Chasing Clean Air, I contribute travel articles to Creators Syndicate, emphasizing sustainable travel, wildlife and habitat conservation. I wrote about my train adventure to Oregon's Winter Wings Festival (Feb. 2015) for Creators, which you can read here.

To stay connected with my search for clean air, LIKE Chasing Clean Air on Facebook or subscribe to blog feed.

Until next time, breathe easy and make life an adventure.

Salmon Run at Eagle Creek, Oregon

Just outside of Portland, Oregon along the Columbia Gorge...

I was blown away with excitement when I saw a salmon run! 

Hundreds of them swimming, thrashing about, jumping... upstream to make babies and then die in same place they were born.

I hiked through a muddy trail under cover of dark clouds and rain with the motivating force that I MAY see a salmon run, as I documented here. I didn't.

And then under blue skies unexpectedly the next day, I DID see my salmon run.

At Eagle Creek along the Columbia Gorge. It was a thrill!

I recommend seeing a salmon run to all.

As a way to keep grounded with the cycle of life, for beyond concrete, life pulsates with connections that you can see.

Ahhhh!

Crazy, Foolish and Insane Seeks Salmon Run - Part Two

Crazy, Foolish and Insane Seeks Salmon Run- Part One

The three Musketeers were off and sliding through mud.

"All for one. One for all."

It should be noted when hiking on an abandoned trail in the rain with a storm enroute, one makes friends fast. And there together is better than here alone.

As we ventured higher, the importance of silencing fear by focusing on a new big YES! surfaced.

YES! we were off to see the salmon run with our brand new friend of 30 seconds, Mike from Buffalo New York, who'd said that salmon might be running somewhere up there, down there, somewhere, which was good enough for the Californian who'd come a long way.

Yes!, we're off to see the salmon run.

Hiking in the rain. On an unknown trail. Along the Columbia Gorge.

Storm enroute.

Yes!, we have a purpose, sloshing on mud to go higher.

All because my new friend, Sam, whose reasoning and meteorological skills were still unknown and therefore a source of consternation, juxtaposed into one nifty sentence,

"It's only a little rain with a storm coming!"

He'd said this doozie, smudging rain from his glasses in order to see his finger point at our security blanket: A 1/2 inch weather map on his smart phone with a Verizon signal, which he noted provided a better signal than AT&T, adding, "but you can never be sure."

Crazy, Foolish and Insane Seeks Salmon Run - Part One

One mile hike to Wahclella Falls.

That's all.

It was a green, vibrant kind of day when thick gray clouds  splashed rain upon my head, and mud loosened beneath my Vasque hiking boots.

I was hiking along the Columbia Gorge in the wilderness with a new friend named Sam, who'd said,

"Oregonians hike in the rain all the time!"

We were the only humans on the trail as far as the eye could see. As far as the ear could hear. As...

"As I was saying, it's just a little water." Sam spoke with the subtle Oregonian tone you hear with the frequency of raindrops. It goes something like You stupid sun-soaked Californian! Afraid to get wet?

Really, I was  afraid to tumble like Alice in Wonderland down a muddy hill plotzing unladylike into crashing water below.

If lucky.

Note: There were many rocks one could be splayed across.

"How do we know the weather will maintain and not start pouring?" I asked, sensibly. "Aren't we crazy?

Sam shook his head, indignant.

"No, we're not crazy!" He pulled a smart phone out of his pocket. "People hike in the rain all the time."

Sam wiped water from his glasses, searching for a weather channel, as  raindrops shot bolts of warning! warning! and I eyed the sloping trail ahead.

Now I'm not a physicist, yet sloping up, I determined as one who has earned a college degree, means sloping down.

I eyed my sturdy Vasque hiking boots already above a tree-line, and said a prayer that these boots, these gortexed (water-proof) boots, would support me and keep me dry!

The mud had loosened to a slip and slide consistency. Much like jam. Gooey jam.

Oregonians sayings--It's only a little water and That's why we're green! --danced in my head, as Sam pointed to the tiny map on his smart phone and informed me with a sure voice,

"My estimation of this weather system shows that the storm..."

"THE storm?"

"... that the storm won't be here for a few hours because," he studied the tiny screen intensely, "...see those green masses on the map?"

It was too tiny to see anything and the rain was coming with urgency, and the mud was kind of like running down the hill.

"They look like green bubbles slowly moving across the screen. See?" He repeated like he needed me to see what he was seeing to make it real.

I saw green moss on the rocks, looking slippery.

Below.

"Well the green masses are a storm system coming from the west and we're further east, and..."

Nearby the muddy trail ascended and continued over a wooden bridge. I duly noted what looked like a big drop, if you were to drop, that is, beLOW.

"I'd give the storm two hours to get here," Sam said like the meterologist he wasn't.

"Let's turn back," I said satisfied with our adventure.

"And ruin all the fun?!" He took a deep breath, as if to hold back an Oregonian dam, I mean, attitude, about to flood forth.

And then he paused.

"Look."

Pause. Hold back that dam.

"If you really desire to turn back before we reach Wahclella Falls we can," Sam spoke like he really understood California wussies.

Pause.

"But we're half-way there, and it'd be a shame not to see the waterfall, and it's perfectly safe. Trust me."

I noted wet trees, fallen trunks, and bugs. Like slugs. But I was not a slug. I was a...

"Crazy, foolish, insane people! Wait up!"

A big man with a long dark mustache lumbered toward us under a wet blanket of rain.

The friendly stranger had obviously just stepped out of a manly man's fisherman commercial.

I mean, look at him.

And apparently he was over-joyed to share the hiking experience because he was no longer alone with an approaching storm.

Two hours. Give or take.

Is Ignorance Bliss Or Potential Disease?

The road to clean air is paved with toxic footprints. Skipping along pesticide-laden farms to get a good photo, soaking in scenic beauty while breathing pulp mill exhaust, and drinking water contaminated by industrial waste, I wonder: Is ignorance bliss and knowledge disease? Or is ignorance bliss that can lead to disease.

At the Bioneers Conference, Andrew Weil spoke of the power of the mind, belief, and placebos. He underscored the impact of the unseen world on the seen world--and I wondered about those toxic footprints I've learned along the road to clean air.

Does thinking about toxins make us potentially sick?

Or is the knowledge of toxins lurking in our backyards and places where we travel a potential life-saver because we can make better decisions?

In the past week, my mind (and maybe body) was hit with the knowledge of three toxic footprints courtesy of industries that didn't tell all nearby residents and visitors like me what they were contaminating the water, air, and soil with.

If it weren't for the fact I read and talked to locals, I wouldn't be telling you about...

1. Driscoll Strawberry Fields

2. Hormone-interrupting pesticides placed throughout several California counties, including Sonoma, Napa, Contra Costa, Monterey, Santa Cruz, and Los Angeles to deal with the Light Brown Apple Moth (LBAM).

3. Fidalgo Bay in Anacortes. This is where you get the Washington State Ferries to San Juan Islands.

To get details on each toxic footprint, read on. If you feel ignorance is bliss, please stop reading now. 

My Pacific Northwest & N. Calif. Clean Air & Sustainable Life Trip Round-Up

 
As I reflect on my 5th Pacific Northwest trip in three years, I feel like Alice in Wonderland, falling through the looking glass. Fast! Much doesn't make sense. Care to join reflections on my fall from expectations?

While the Pacific Northwest is stunning!--big trees, lakes, rivers, and the percolating life of the wet Puget Sound and Strait de Juan de Fuca--I'm tumbling through my looking glass, over bridges, missing exits, stumbling by the Space Needle that touches the dazzling blue gray changing sky; that big sky--most alive!--in the city I thought I may call home.