The following are signs that Springville, Utah is a boring place to live:
1. I am planning to drive an hour to Salt Lake City next Friday night to go to shabbat services because it is something to do, there will be (normal) people there, and drinking is not considered a grievous sin.
2. I read the Provo area classified craigslist adds, delighting in the multitude of ones that read “I am bored, let’s make out” (and that’s just the tip of the iceberg, for an interesting look at local culture, see the M4M section…)
3. Sneaking into a LDS church sounded like fun
4. I thought about responding to some of those craigslist adds
5. I get bored studying for the GRE, try to procrastinate but can’t find anything more enthralling then studying for the GRE
6. I watched figure skating on TV
7. I look forward to going back to work on Monday.
I am sure once I make friends and it gets warm enough to be outside comfortably, living in Springville, Utah will become more appealing. But for now, thank goodness work is really awesome… because Springville sure isn’t.
And, stay tuned for future episodes featuring: polygamist pizza, fish handling techniques, gas station romance, and carp genetics.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
I have moved to Utah
Some mud really stinks. I am not talking about your everyday, take dirt and add water variety: that just smells like wet dirt. I am talking about the black stuff that oozes up around your waders, gurgling as it slowly swallows your ankles, then knees, and then squelchingly threatens to suck you down to some anoxic netherworld. For being mostly desert Utah has a lot of mud. I might be a tad biased in this assessment as my new job involves frog surveys. Aquatic frogs like water and water is a key ingredient in mud. While practicing mud wading I am also gaining new skills like farm animal evasion, barbed wire fence climbing, and fish grabbing. And I get paid for this, sweet!
Officially, I am a wildlife technician working for the aquatics division of the Utah department of wildlife resources. Our main focus is to survey endangered amphibians and nonsport fish in the central region of Utah (which turns out to be most of the state). Occasionally we (there are two techs) are borrowed by one of the other fish biologists when they need extra hands. Yesterday the June Sucker (an endangered fish with a funny looking mouth) biologists wanted help tagging 5,000 captive bred fish so the suckers could be released. Tagging a fish with a coded metal wire tag involves grabbing a fish from the bucket, holding the slimy wriggling thing still, then jamming a bit of wire into it before chucking it into the fish run, and repeat…… for another 4,999 fish. This is definitely a new skill for the resume.
Work is a lot of fun. We jump between tasks and field sites almost daily so I think it should continue to be interesting. The Aquatics division is predominantly staffed by fish biologists and I think I might be the token “amphibian biologist”. We are going to be doing some chytrid swabbing later in the summer and the bosses are thrilled that I already know what a swab is. As the amphibian person I have an excuse for my complete deficiency in fisheries knowledge and skills. So, in trade for being a walking source of amphibian chytrid information I get to learn how to be a fishery biologist, not a bad deal at all.
I made it to Utah on Sunday night and started work at 7am Monday morning. We work 10 hour days (with three day weekends) and I haven’t really had time to experience much of the area. I live in Springville, about an hour south of Salt Lake City. The town itself is flat but the mountains begin along the eastern edge where the houses end. There are lakes on the western side, but I am not entirely sure where…. They take street numbering very seriously here; it is so ordered that I keep getting lost. There is always a Center St perpendicular to a Main St, and all the streets are numbered going off in the cardinal directions from there (i.e. the corner of 200 S and 1350 W). Sure this sounds straightforward but if you need to find 130 E it is probably a dead end somewhere that can only be reached by zigzagging across every prime numbered integer between 3 and infinity. I can see the benefits of the system, but I do seem to spend a chunk of each day lost (which is also because they are doing some major road construction and have closed a few very important streets- and nobody told google maps!).
Things to do, streets to get lost on, and a town house to move into….
Officially, I am a wildlife technician working for the aquatics division of the Utah department of wildlife resources. Our main focus is to survey endangered amphibians and nonsport fish in the central region of Utah (which turns out to be most of the state). Occasionally we (there are two techs) are borrowed by one of the other fish biologists when they need extra hands. Yesterday the June Sucker (an endangered fish with a funny looking mouth) biologists wanted help tagging 5,000 captive bred fish so the suckers could be released. Tagging a fish with a coded metal wire tag involves grabbing a fish from the bucket, holding the slimy wriggling thing still, then jamming a bit of wire into it before chucking it into the fish run, and repeat…… for another 4,999 fish. This is definitely a new skill for the resume.
Work is a lot of fun. We jump between tasks and field sites almost daily so I think it should continue to be interesting. The Aquatics division is predominantly staffed by fish biologists and I think I might be the token “amphibian biologist”. We are going to be doing some chytrid swabbing later in the summer and the bosses are thrilled that I already know what a swab is. As the amphibian person I have an excuse for my complete deficiency in fisheries knowledge and skills. So, in trade for being a walking source of amphibian chytrid information I get to learn how to be a fishery biologist, not a bad deal at all.
I made it to Utah on Sunday night and started work at 7am Monday morning. We work 10 hour days (with three day weekends) and I haven’t really had time to experience much of the area. I live in Springville, about an hour south of Salt Lake City. The town itself is flat but the mountains begin along the eastern edge where the houses end. There are lakes on the western side, but I am not entirely sure where…. They take street numbering very seriously here; it is so ordered that I keep getting lost. There is always a Center St perpendicular to a Main St, and all the streets are numbered going off in the cardinal directions from there (i.e. the corner of 200 S and 1350 W). Sure this sounds straightforward but if you need to find 130 E it is probably a dead end somewhere that can only be reached by zigzagging across every prime numbered integer between 3 and infinity. I can see the benefits of the system, but I do seem to spend a chunk of each day lost (which is also because they are doing some major road construction and have closed a few very important streets- and nobody told google maps!).
Things to do, streets to get lost on, and a town house to move into….
Monday, February 23, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
New comics posted!
I have this life goal to create an all herp comic book.
I was distracted by the ants in Hawai'i, but I have finally posted some new cartoons. Go to: http://sweinstein.revealedsingularity.net/ for visual proof of my extreme nerdy-ness.
I was distracted by the ants in Hawai'i, but I have finally posted some new cartoons. Go to: http://sweinstein.revealedsingularity.net/ for visual proof of my extreme nerdy-ness.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Pie in the pan, cold chili in the can.
I started to write this one on the back of my e-ticket reservation print-out while sitting on a beach in Kauai. Roughly three sentences in my efforts came to an abrupt halt when two of the more permanent residents of the beach campground began chasing each other, loudly demonstrating the ways in which a four letter word, beginning in “F”, can be used to express extreme dislike. These are the sort of memorable experiences that are completely lost when one stays at fancy resorts with private beaches, gourmet restaurants, and bed sheets. Never fear, we had a trip full of memorable experiences…. But perhaps I should start at the beginning.
My housemate, Joe (the same one of GI Joe infamy), and I went to Kauai over the thanksgiving holiday. Our attempts to find additional traveling buddies were met with the same excuse from all fronts: “Kauai costs money. I have no money.” You don’t get paid all that much to go play in Hawaiian forests and lava fields all day and thus all park interns are perennially broke. In the end it was just Joe and me, and we planned only as far as the plane tickets and rental car.
By 1pm on Thursday Joe and I had exhausted our plans, having both made it to Kauai and picked up our funny looking, bright red, rental car (a “Caliber”, what were the designers thinking?). Now winging it, we decided it might be a good idea to get some camping permits. Our attempt at being law abiding campers was thwarted when we arrived at the office and discovered that they were observing that federal holiday known as Thanksgiving. Oops, probably should have called ahead on that one. Next stop was food, we had plans to camp until Monday and needed some provisions. Fortunately we scrambled in and out of an ironically named grocery store, Big Save, about fifteen minutes before they closed for the holiday. We couldn’t find any fuel for our camp stove, but we certainly weren’t going to starve immediately.
Stocked with canned chili, noodles, and pineapple soda (a mistake) we were ready to begin our adventure and headed out from Lihue to the south side of the island. One of the remarkable things about Kauai is abundance of chickens. They are everywhere; begging in parking lots, perched on impossibly steep cliff sides, cock-a-doodle doo-ing at two in the morning. We checked out the spouting horn, where waves crashing against lava rock send a burst of spray twenty feet in the air and moderately amused tourist stand behind a protective fence taking pictures. Unimpressed by most things that can be accessed by car, we returned to our car to find an activity that we could drive to and then hike to.
We found a suitable hike down the road and spent the rest of the afternoon scrambling around limestone ridges and gazing down at impossibly blue water. I spotted a shearwater (that’s a bird, folks) hunkered down in a rock hole and that was really exciting, almost as good as a turtle. As the afternoon wore on we grew decidedly, stomach growling-ly, hungry. Upon finally reaching our destination beach we promptly turned around to hike back to food (it was a little late in the day for swimming, anyway). On the hike back it was decided that pizza would be the best way of celebrating the holiday. Unfortunately once back on the road we soon discovered the pizza place was closed, as was every single other eating establishment on that side of the island. I guess that isn’t too surprising given that it was 5pm on thanksgiving. We headed out to a beach at the end of the highway for the night. It was dark by time we arrived so we ate our cold thanksgiving chili out of the can while sitting on some driftwood next to the car. For dessert was the grocery store pumpkin pie, which I must say, doesn’t hold a candle to the one I made the week before.
The pie reappeared for breakfast the next morning at approximately the same time as the rain clouds. The beach was lovely but the surf made swimming out of the question so we headed out for some adventure at Koke’e state park. On the way to the park we stopped at a coffee shop and I had the best mocha of my life. I think it would still have been amazing even if I hadn’t spent the past night in a hammock being eaten alive by bugs (nope, still haven’t learned to set up a tent).
Koke’e state park is up in the mountains on the west side of the island. It offers incredible views of the whole Ne Pali coast and some amazing hiking. We picked a nice easy 8 mile stroll and set off towards the Alakai swamp. I have a lot of pictures from the trail and in nearly all there is Joe, ahead of me up the trail. I generally would not consider myself a slow hiker, but Joe’s casual hiking pace is a speed I typically only assume when being chased by a horde of enraged rhinos. Sometimes he actually runs. I don’t.
Eventually the trail, which was slick and muddy from the get go, was replaced by a boardwalk as we approached the swamp. Cruising across the planks, the mesh nailed to wood clattered and rang; as our feet strummed the boardwalk banjo we undoubtedly scared off every bird within miles. For the majority of the hike in we had incredible views but as we reached the look out at the end of the trail a thick wall of fog blanketed everything. There was a small crowd on the viewing platform looking hopefully into the milky white expanse which, it turns out, should have been a view of half the island. Walking back through the swamp in the thick fog reminded me a little of that part from Lord of the Rings, you know, when Frodo, Sam , and Gollum are walking through the swamp with all the dead people? Good thing we had such a nice, noisy, boardwalk to scare off all the living, and non-living, creatures.
That night we got our pizza and then headed towards the north side because we wanted to hike along the famous Ne Pali Coast the next day. We spent the night in a hostel (bed sheets!!!) and it was probably a good thing we didn’t camp because it was absolutely pouring in the morning. The rain seemed to be letting up by 9 so we headed on up the coast towards the trail. It was closed; something about flash flood warnings. Alright, no hiking on the north side. Swimming was also out of the question as most beaches were sporting waves large enough to crush small cars.
One nice thing about Kauai is that it has a wet side and a dry side. Our rainy side plans had been stricken so we headed back to the dry side. And this is how we ended up a beach camp ground with crazy people. Actually the camp ground was quite full so the few crazy people make up only a tiny, but loud, fraction of its inhabitants. We spent the afternoon lounging on the beach and for dinner had cold pasta boiled the morning before at the hostel. The pumpkin pie made a final appearance and was deemed inedible due to the new found growth of small white bacterial colonies across the surface of the filling. If the scientific world ever runs out of agar I think I know a substitute. The camp ground was packed so we claimed a spot on the sand; the stars were incredible and the sound of the waves softened the shouts of the crazy people, making for an almost good night’s sleep.
The next morning we headed back up to Koke’e park for another gorgeous 8 mile stroll up mountains and across cliff sides. It was stunning, even that part where the trail was washed out and I thought I was going to fall into the valley 3,000 feet below. Out of the park, back down in Waimea, we visited Jo Jo’s Shave Ice for some fruity flavored amazingness. Shave ice (there is no d) is great, but when you combine it with vanilla ice cream I think it might actually become an addictive drug. Just thinking about it…. Need to stop to wipe the drool of my key board….
With plans of attempting another hike on the Ne Pali coast we headed back up to the north side of the island for the night and found a nice beach park to camp in. It was comforting to watch the small children run around with multi colored glowsticks, much nicer then the crazy people shouting obscenities. One small child stole our flashlight, but for the price of a cookie promised to put it down and never touch it again.
In the morning we headed out to the end of the road and were happy to see that the trail was open. We flew home that evening so there wasn’t really time to do a major hike. Instead of the 22 miles we had originally planned we hiked about two, and then found a beach for the rest of the afternoon. The weather was glorious, the water brilliant, and the snorkeling mediocre. The fish were really cool, but the coral was sadly almost non-existent. None of the large number of other beach goers seemed the least bit bothered by this and the water was filled with remarkably pale people snorkeling about in a few feet of water. I suspect that the snorkeling was better out farther across the reef but I was not going to attempt that without fins, a buddy, and a little assurance that I wouldn’t be swept out to sea.
All to soon it was time to return to Lihue, hand back the keys to our awkward little rental car, and catch a flight back to the Hawaiian island we call home. Living in paradise is tough, isn’t it?
My housemate, Joe (the same one of GI Joe infamy), and I went to Kauai over the thanksgiving holiday. Our attempts to find additional traveling buddies were met with the same excuse from all fronts: “Kauai costs money. I have no money.” You don’t get paid all that much to go play in Hawaiian forests and lava fields all day and thus all park interns are perennially broke. In the end it was just Joe and me, and we planned only as far as the plane tickets and rental car.
By 1pm on Thursday Joe and I had exhausted our plans, having both made it to Kauai and picked up our funny looking, bright red, rental car (a “Caliber”, what were the designers thinking?). Now winging it, we decided it might be a good idea to get some camping permits. Our attempt at being law abiding campers was thwarted when we arrived at the office and discovered that they were observing that federal holiday known as Thanksgiving. Oops, probably should have called ahead on that one. Next stop was food, we had plans to camp until Monday and needed some provisions. Fortunately we scrambled in and out of an ironically named grocery store, Big Save, about fifteen minutes before they closed for the holiday. We couldn’t find any fuel for our camp stove, but we certainly weren’t going to starve immediately.
Stocked with canned chili, noodles, and pineapple soda (a mistake) we were ready to begin our adventure and headed out from Lihue to the south side of the island. One of the remarkable things about Kauai is abundance of chickens. They are everywhere; begging in parking lots, perched on impossibly steep cliff sides, cock-a-doodle doo-ing at two in the morning. We checked out the spouting horn, where waves crashing against lava rock send a burst of spray twenty feet in the air and moderately amused tourist stand behind a protective fence taking pictures. Unimpressed by most things that can be accessed by car, we returned to our car to find an activity that we could drive to and then hike to.
We found a suitable hike down the road and spent the rest of the afternoon scrambling around limestone ridges and gazing down at impossibly blue water. I spotted a shearwater (that’s a bird, folks) hunkered down in a rock hole and that was really exciting, almost as good as a turtle. As the afternoon wore on we grew decidedly, stomach growling-ly, hungry. Upon finally reaching our destination beach we promptly turned around to hike back to food (it was a little late in the day for swimming, anyway). On the hike back it was decided that pizza would be the best way of celebrating the holiday. Unfortunately once back on the road we soon discovered the pizza place was closed, as was every single other eating establishment on that side of the island. I guess that isn’t too surprising given that it was 5pm on thanksgiving. We headed out to a beach at the end of the highway for the night. It was dark by time we arrived so we ate our cold thanksgiving chili out of the can while sitting on some driftwood next to the car. For dessert was the grocery store pumpkin pie, which I must say, doesn’t hold a candle to the one I made the week before.
The pie reappeared for breakfast the next morning at approximately the same time as the rain clouds. The beach was lovely but the surf made swimming out of the question so we headed out for some adventure at Koke’e state park. On the way to the park we stopped at a coffee shop and I had the best mocha of my life. I think it would still have been amazing even if I hadn’t spent the past night in a hammock being eaten alive by bugs (nope, still haven’t learned to set up a tent).
Koke’e state park is up in the mountains on the west side of the island. It offers incredible views of the whole Ne Pali coast and some amazing hiking. We picked a nice easy 8 mile stroll and set off towards the Alakai swamp. I have a lot of pictures from the trail and in nearly all there is Joe, ahead of me up the trail. I generally would not consider myself a slow hiker, but Joe’s casual hiking pace is a speed I typically only assume when being chased by a horde of enraged rhinos. Sometimes he actually runs. I don’t.
Eventually the trail, which was slick and muddy from the get go, was replaced by a boardwalk as we approached the swamp. Cruising across the planks, the mesh nailed to wood clattered and rang; as our feet strummed the boardwalk banjo we undoubtedly scared off every bird within miles. For the majority of the hike in we had incredible views but as we reached the look out at the end of the trail a thick wall of fog blanketed everything. There was a small crowd on the viewing platform looking hopefully into the milky white expanse which, it turns out, should have been a view of half the island. Walking back through the swamp in the thick fog reminded me a little of that part from Lord of the Rings, you know, when Frodo, Sam , and Gollum are walking through the swamp with all the dead people? Good thing we had such a nice, noisy, boardwalk to scare off all the living, and non-living, creatures.
That night we got our pizza and then headed towards the north side because we wanted to hike along the famous Ne Pali Coast the next day. We spent the night in a hostel (bed sheets!!!) and it was probably a good thing we didn’t camp because it was absolutely pouring in the morning. The rain seemed to be letting up by 9 so we headed on up the coast towards the trail. It was closed; something about flash flood warnings. Alright, no hiking on the north side. Swimming was also out of the question as most beaches were sporting waves large enough to crush small cars.
One nice thing about Kauai is that it has a wet side and a dry side. Our rainy side plans had been stricken so we headed back to the dry side. And this is how we ended up a beach camp ground with crazy people. Actually the camp ground was quite full so the few crazy people make up only a tiny, but loud, fraction of its inhabitants. We spent the afternoon lounging on the beach and for dinner had cold pasta boiled the morning before at the hostel. The pumpkin pie made a final appearance and was deemed inedible due to the new found growth of small white bacterial colonies across the surface of the filling. If the scientific world ever runs out of agar I think I know a substitute. The camp ground was packed so we claimed a spot on the sand; the stars were incredible and the sound of the waves softened the shouts of the crazy people, making for an almost good night’s sleep.
The next morning we headed back up to Koke’e park for another gorgeous 8 mile stroll up mountains and across cliff sides. It was stunning, even that part where the trail was washed out and I thought I was going to fall into the valley 3,000 feet below. Out of the park, back down in Waimea, we visited Jo Jo’s Shave Ice for some fruity flavored amazingness. Shave ice (there is no d) is great, but when you combine it with vanilla ice cream I think it might actually become an addictive drug. Just thinking about it…. Need to stop to wipe the drool of my key board….
With plans of attempting another hike on the Ne Pali coast we headed back up to the north side of the island for the night and found a nice beach park to camp in. It was comforting to watch the small children run around with multi colored glowsticks, much nicer then the crazy people shouting obscenities. One small child stole our flashlight, but for the price of a cookie promised to put it down and never touch it again.
In the morning we headed out to the end of the road and were happy to see that the trail was open. We flew home that evening so there wasn’t really time to do a major hike. Instead of the 22 miles we had originally planned we hiked about two, and then found a beach for the rest of the afternoon. The weather was glorious, the water brilliant, and the snorkeling mediocre. The fish were really cool, but the coral was sadly almost non-existent. None of the large number of other beach goers seemed the least bit bothered by this and the water was filled with remarkably pale people snorkeling about in a few feet of water. I suspect that the snorkeling was better out farther across the reef but I was not going to attempt that without fins, a buddy, and a little assurance that I wouldn’t be swept out to sea.
All to soon it was time to return to Lihue, hand back the keys to our awkward little rental car, and catch a flight back to the Hawaiian island we call home. Living in paradise is tough, isn’t it?
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Some pictures
Kayaking to Captain Cook cove for snorkeling
smoke plum from lava entry to ocean. Wow, there are a lot of people! I hate having to share paradise with others!
smoke plum from lava entry to ocean. Wow, there are a lot of people! I hate having to share paradise with others!
Is it wrong to make my own birthday cake?
I think I have replaced schoolwork with baking. In college I used to fill my “free” time with studying and other academic activities. Suddenly free from tests and homework I find myself with hours of open evening time, which are now filled with flour, yeast, sugar, and teetering piles of dirty dishes. I have stopped buying bread from the grocery store ($6 for a loaf of sandwich bread is absurd anyways) and my boss likes having cookies at work so much that he provides flour and butter. Which brings me back to the topic of birthday pastry. I make other people cakes, my birthday is in a few days, and I want a pumpkin pie. So, is it weird to bring my own birthday pie to work? I have already made it, so I guess it would be even odder to make my own birthday pie and then hide it (Pie? What pie? Oh, you mean the one the whole house now smells like…. Right, that pie). I think that settles it, I will have to share my pie, but don’t expect me to sing to myself!
I also made challah, which somehow morphed into challah-zilla in the oven. Not that that is really a problem; I like making bread that covers more surface area than many north eastern states.
On an unrelated tangent I present a short narrative titled “My field partner, GI Joe”:
Joe and I do a lot of field work together. When we go out ant-mapping he always leads. The leader finds the gps points and lays bait cards for the ants. It is generally the harder job, but also more fun (in a machete wielding ,jungle trail blazing, sort of way). I am usually stuck as the follower when I partner with Joe. This means I don’t have to create a trail, but rather have to exactly follow the one my partner laid an hour before.
On Monday Joe and I were assigned to a transect that can be technically described as heavily vegetated. While I settled down for an hour long nap Joe pulled out the machete and dove into the brush. A half hour later I heard him yell at me, sharing the obvious fact that he had made it less than 60 meters into the veg. At 45 minutes it was my turn to dive into the 6 foot tall wall of spiky plant life. Joe’s already stomped and chopped it down a bit, so it’s definitely easier for me…. but…. Joe has an annoying habit of walking straight through brambles. He wears heavy rain pants even when it’s sunny so that he can do this, laying trails of flagging through swaths of saber toothed blackberry vines. My lightweight rain pants would be instantly shredded by these plants, and none of my field pants offer much protection against this evil greenery. Joe marches through the brambles, invincible, and then I follow on tiptoes, wincing and cussing my whole way through.
The leader lays flagging so that the follower can follow it to the bait stations. Good flagging courtesy implies that flagging should be tied somewhere obvious on the path to be followed, preferably at eye level. While wallowing through dense stands of Pukiawe, in which movement is akin to swimming through mattress springs, the flagging suddenly disappears. Dammit Joe!!! While searching the nearby brush for neon blue plastic I happen to glance down at my feet. There’s the flagging tape, tied six inches off the ground. Dammit Joe!!! He got sick of wading through the brush and decided to crawl under it instead. The flagging was perfectly at eye level, assuming the follower was lying on the ground under the bushes. Of course, I had no choice but to follow (one bait station was actually set in the middle of all this) and had ample opportunity to practice my army crawl over the next several hours. I will crawl under Pukiawe, but when the flagging tape disappeared under a bramble, Dammit Joe !!! (When question later, he claimed the bramble was too big to just walk through … what is wrong with going around obstacles?!?). After 6 hours of following GI Joe through Joe’s Boot Camp I emerged out onto the road. During the transect each bramble thorn drawing blood added new words to the lengthening list of things I was going to call Joe when I next saw him. With a final crash I landed back on the road and there he was, sitting in the car. I guess that would have been the time to fling some of those words I had been rolling around in my mouth for the last 5 hours, but that would have taken way more energy then I wanted to expend.
Moral of the story: Get more than 3 hours of sleep on work days or fieldwork sucks!
I think I have replaced schoolwork with baking. In college I used to fill my “free” time with studying and other academic activities. Suddenly free from tests and homework I find myself with hours of open evening time, which are now filled with flour, yeast, sugar, and teetering piles of dirty dishes. I have stopped buying bread from the grocery store ($6 for a loaf of sandwich bread is absurd anyways) and my boss likes having cookies at work so much that he provides flour and butter. Which brings me back to the topic of birthday pastry. I make other people cakes, my birthday is in a few days, and I want a pumpkin pie. So, is it weird to bring my own birthday pie to work? I have already made it, so I guess it would be even odder to make my own birthday pie and then hide it (Pie? What pie? Oh, you mean the one the whole house now smells like…. Right, that pie). I think that settles it, I will have to share my pie, but don’t expect me to sing to myself!
I also made challah, which somehow morphed into challah-zilla in the oven. Not that that is really a problem; I like making bread that covers more surface area than many north eastern states.
On an unrelated tangent I present a short narrative titled “My field partner, GI Joe”:
Joe and I do a lot of field work together. When we go out ant-mapping he always leads. The leader finds the gps points and lays bait cards for the ants. It is generally the harder job, but also more fun (in a machete wielding ,jungle trail blazing, sort of way). I am usually stuck as the follower when I partner with Joe. This means I don’t have to create a trail, but rather have to exactly follow the one my partner laid an hour before.
On Monday Joe and I were assigned to a transect that can be technically described as heavily vegetated. While I settled down for an hour long nap Joe pulled out the machete and dove into the brush. A half hour later I heard him yell at me, sharing the obvious fact that he had made it less than 60 meters into the veg. At 45 minutes it was my turn to dive into the 6 foot tall wall of spiky plant life. Joe’s already stomped and chopped it down a bit, so it’s definitely easier for me…. but…. Joe has an annoying habit of walking straight through brambles. He wears heavy rain pants even when it’s sunny so that he can do this, laying trails of flagging through swaths of saber toothed blackberry vines. My lightweight rain pants would be instantly shredded by these plants, and none of my field pants offer much protection against this evil greenery. Joe marches through the brambles, invincible, and then I follow on tiptoes, wincing and cussing my whole way through.
The leader lays flagging so that the follower can follow it to the bait stations. Good flagging courtesy implies that flagging should be tied somewhere obvious on the path to be followed, preferably at eye level. While wallowing through dense stands of Pukiawe, in which movement is akin to swimming through mattress springs, the flagging suddenly disappears. Dammit Joe!!! While searching the nearby brush for neon blue plastic I happen to glance down at my feet. There’s the flagging tape, tied six inches off the ground. Dammit Joe!!! He got sick of wading through the brush and decided to crawl under it instead. The flagging was perfectly at eye level, assuming the follower was lying on the ground under the bushes. Of course, I had no choice but to follow (one bait station was actually set in the middle of all this) and had ample opportunity to practice my army crawl over the next several hours. I will crawl under Pukiawe, but when the flagging tape disappeared under a bramble, Dammit Joe !!! (When question later, he claimed the bramble was too big to just walk through … what is wrong with going around obstacles?!?). After 6 hours of following GI Joe through Joe’s Boot Camp I emerged out onto the road. During the transect each bramble thorn drawing blood added new words to the lengthening list of things I was going to call Joe when I next saw him. With a final crash I landed back on the road and there he was, sitting in the car. I guess that would have been the time to fling some of those words I had been rolling around in my mouth for the last 5 hours, but that would have taken way more energy then I wanted to expend.
Moral of the story: Get more than 3 hours of sleep on work days or fieldwork sucks!
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