Photo of the Week #10

Jasper Special

I know, I know. I have been a terrible photo blogger. Some weeks: photos. Other weeks: no photos. It just doesn't seem right. Let me make it up to you by showing you many photos of a cool place I got to go to that you didn't! Jasper is a super town, the kind of place I'd love to live if my funds were unlimited and I could just throw my cash bundles at people and say HA! GIVE ME THAT! then twirl my moustache and saunter off. Alas, I lack the cash bundles and the facial hair for such a life.

I bring to you today a slightly different version of this small, charming mountain town than I thought I would. At the end of my trip I realized I had a collection of photos that said something a little melancholy about Jasper, but I hope you'll take the message with a grain of salt.

Jasper: going the wrong way? Ok, kind of a pretentious question to ask. I only started thinking about this question because of this chance photo. I was trying to only get the raven, but before I could zoom in it started to fly off so I just snapped the picture and the sign ended up being in the frame. I only noticed what the sign said later, but altogether the photo got me thinking. What direction is the town headed? It gets more and more popular as a tourist destination every year, and while the town seems to remain small which I'm glad of, the landscape is undeniably changed as tourism increases.

This is a view of a river that runs nearby the Jasper Park Lodge (no I didn't stay there, don't have the mad cash for JPL!) taken through the frame of a bridge built across the river to access the hotel and golf course. It was actually so difficult to see the mountain range without the bridge getting in the way that I chose just to take a shot straight through it. The experience definitely made me think about how intrusive manmade structures can be, and how much we often struggle to take pictures that appear natural and far from the influence of cityscapes. I know that I took my fair share of pains to try to crop roads, cars and people out of my photos while I was in Jasper. Although this landscape looks infinitely better without the bridge overlaying it, sometimes maybe it's worth acknowledging our presence and influence, rather than trying to ignore it or crop it out.

Here was a bit of a sad scene we came by on the way home. A herd of bighorn sheep trying to cross the highway was intercepted by an equally large herd of cars that stopped to observe them, many pulling over unknowingly in the way of many sheep that had yet to come down the cliffs and join the rest of the group. This little one shuffled down the rock face, saw all the vehicles and people poised with their camera phones and dashed haphazardly across, only calming down once it had rejoined its herd. The poor guy just seemed so afraid, and although this event can hardly be said to have a significant impact on the sheep's wellbeing, it makes you think about how we change the lives of animals just by being in a certain time and space.

But these small moments of pause are just that - small. These landscapes and animals remain beautiful, and for the most part, undisturbed. I think it's worth taking the pause, for sure. But it's also worth thinking about why all these manmade structures are present: because we appreciate this place. People care about the wilderness and they don't want to see it go away, they want to be able to visit it and revisit it intact. Jasper is still a gorgeous place and I think people try to disturb it as little as they can. I was lucky to spend some of my winter break there and I'm sure I'll be back next year!

Happy Holidays.

SEN

Photo of the Week #9

These are some lights in my backyard. Because I basically only take pictures of my backyard. They are very pretty and nice and I like them and look there's sparkles in the snow! And that is nice too. Clearly this is written post-final exam period because I can only process very small ideas.

Til Next Time.

SarahHH

Photo of the Week #8

Oh boy, this is shameful. I missed a week and now I'm late, too. You know what that means? You're about to be lavished with TWO PHOTOS. A photo blog daily double, if you will. (aside: I would like to just put it out there that "if you will" is possibly one of the most painful things to say if you aren't doing it ironically. For example, an excerpt from my developmental biology textbook: "...the anterior end of the embryo is more advanced in its development (having a "head start," if you will)..." Oh ho ho. Can't you just imagine the writer's chuckle. I do tend to use a lot of bad puns so maybe I'm not qualified to make fun, but that one sure got a tired eye-roll from me. Possibly because trying to understand embryonic development is hard enough to put you in a cynical mood to start with.)

I took some more nighttime shots this week 'cause I'm out on the street slinging rocks anyways, might as well take some pics while I rake in the illegal dough. I also really love nighttime during the winter, which is a good thing since those two conditions are on the haps for most of your lifetime if you live in Edmonton. The city is starting to do this thing where we just put lights on everything to try to make the perma-darkness more enjoyable, which I am super down for. For instance, the high level bridge across the river now lights up at night, and the trees on the  U of A quad are all covered in lights this year. Definitely makes you appreciate the sparkly dreamy nighttime of winter months more!

So here are some dreamy sparkly winter night shots of my own. I got a little distracted by street lamps.

Luv winter 4ever,

<3 SNASON

Photo of the Week #7

Whoa guys, check out this different format! It's wiggin' me out! Picture on one side, text on other side? Crazy.

So as promised I have some snowtography this week! Finally winter has descended on E-Town, I am happy to say. I love the snow, unlike many of my jaded Edmontonian companions who have just lived here too long. Well, I have too (goin' on year 17!), but I have not lost a childish joy for all things sparkly yet. Who can resist purposely sliding along icy sidewalks, or kicking up big puffs of snow just to watch it fly and sparkle, or the satisfying crunch under your feet when you liberate a previously untrodden snowfall? To me, snow is ~romance~ and wonder and delight! Anyways, I'm still adjusting to temperatures in the minuses though. I might love snow with a bit of a freaky intensity, but the cold that comes with it is a bummeeerrrr.

These are some glass-blown balls my mom installed as lawn ornaments in our backyard. After the first snowfall they acquired these adorable snow hats that had to be captured. It took a while to find an angle that showed the snow caps without being a totally boring snoozefest (ie. just a flat view from the front) but aren't you glad I found it?? They're pretty. That's all I really have to say here.

Luv,
SEN!

Photo of the Week #6

Okay, lots of totally laaaaame talk about composition and crud lately, right?!? I bet everyone's like ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT SARAhHHHHhhHH. Well, this one's just for fun, folks. Charlotte and I on Halloween in our excellent onesies, because the people who write this blog are cool and you should know it.

(by the way Charlotte is a red panda. It's hard to tell, so I thought I'd help her out here.)

Photo of the Week #5

Okay, I'm a little late on this one! Forgive me, my tiny readership!

This is a picture of my aunt and uncle's dog, Jake, that I took over the Thanksgiving weekend. As long as they've had this dog, he has come along with this hilarious "flinger" contraption which allows you to exert max laziness while interacting with your overly active Schnoodle. And he can chase those goddamn tennis balls FOR. EVER. I swear that if we didn't stop him, he would cheerfully expend all the calories in his body and die playing fetch. To die in your arms, tennis ball, is such a lovely way to die. Oh and that's my brother's knee, clad in his silly homemade pants. That's a story for another day.

Anyways, how bout dis shot?! I'm realizing more and more that as an ex-painter (that's depressing, let's call me a painter on hiatus) and art history enthusiast, I enjoy composing photos a lot more than thinking about how I can use the mechanics of the machine to produce cool pictures. It's just where my mind tends to go, so I'm kinda embracing that. I love the composition of this photo because all the lines of the image direct your focus to Jake's superexcitedOMGface even though he's not at the center of the photo, which is where our eyes usually migrate to. The horizon of the shot perfectly lines up with his eye height, naturally guiding your eye there, and the way the sun was setting happened to produce a shadow that creates a line from the bottom left corner directly to our lovely doggie as well. Finally, the bright orange tennis ball flinger points right at him and is a nice touch because we know exactly what he's thinking about!

It's fun how I wasn't even thinking about all these compositional elements at the time of taking the photo, but when I was scrolling through my photos for the day they jumped out at me and really made this the best photo of the day! This is also probably the last sunkissed photo on the blog for a while, since winter is descending here in E-Town. (I recently learned another Edmonton nickname is Edmonchuck...definitely doesn't roll off the tongue, in my opinion!) Excited to take some winter piccsxxcscsssccss though!

See you next (hopefully SNOWY) time!

Sarah

Photo of the Week #4

Another backyard shot, because who can resist the poignance of a leaf falling into your glass of water in an oh-so-artistic way? I was actually finished with my camera at this point and I'd put it aside to get started on some real work (gross) when I went to take a sip of water and saw that it looked pretty neat. So Mr. X-A1 had to be turned back on for a little while. I really like the composition of this shot. If I were to make it look real nice I'd probably crop out the right side of it because I can see a gecko stepping stone foot in the top right there which is bothering me a tad, but if I had done that it would make the two regions of the photo (the wooden surface of the bench and the ground beneath it) equal in size, which also would bother me - like splitting the whole thing down the middle. Compositionally I like the ground taking up more space in the photo. So I'm gonna leave it that way! Hope this photo reminds you of quiet moments in your backyard, avoiding work to enjoy the space around you instead.

- Pondering Sarah

Photo of the Week #3

A multiple exposure shot of the shadows on the deck in my backyard. Yes, because technology has taken us far enough that you can put one picture on top of another WHILE SHOOTING, not even editing afterwards! I personally was shocked and amazed when I discovered this and did a small bowing ritual to my camera before continuing on. I like how this image creates a couple different kinds of grids depending on where you overlay the lines, and that the shadows get darker where they bisect! You can even get a bit of that optical illusion where dots disappear and reappear if you try to focus on one set of intersecting lines where I've crossed the deck at right angles. What I don't like (and now you're going to notice it and be like AHH so bothersome) is that I didn't get the shots perfectly centred on top of each other (mainly because I was trying to avoid including my shoe...) and you can really see that because of the wedge where the lines aren't right-angled at the bottom! Alas, ear wax. Anyways, kinda more geometric, hope y'all enjoy!

Happy Thanksgiving

SENsational

Photo of the Week #2

Yo kids!

So I actually committed enough to this idea to go out with my camera on an odd pajama'd foray in my alleyway for a lil' snapshot creativity. I actually was hoping to get a photo that I'd been picturing in my head for literally years, featuring this tree on the grass strip dividing the street that intersects the alleyway. It lines up perfectly with the view down my alleyway and looks pretty cool, lit up by the streetlight and framed by the dark alleyway. So to precede the sloppy weirdness that follows this paragraph, I did have a plan. I would like to claim that, in my defense.

Once I found myself intrepidly positioned in the centre of the alleyway, clad in my stripey pajamas (because my original plans for the evening had involved falling asleep and didn't take into account a restless itch to art something), I raised my chalice of photography, the ol' FUJI X-A1, in a toast to me and my artistic vision. "Tonight, we feast on film-et mignon, my friends," I said to my many and varied friends, gathered in the Great Hall. The candles were doing that cool thing where they float above us and everyone was beaming at me, because I was standing where Dumbledore usually stands. Except one thing: the tree of destiny could not even slightly be detected by my chalice. My ornate goblet, how could it fail me! I mumbled a few awkward words about failure and lost dreams to conclude my toast, and sat back down. The crowd gathered along the long, wooden dinner tables supped their mead in silence. Or I guess butter beer. I don't know, my motivation to keep the Harry Potter reference going died along with my artistic aspirations.

Yes, alas, all my camera could pick up was, well, nothing. Just darkness. Amazing what the eye can see and the camera cannot! Once again, biology is superior to machine. Man cannot hope to mimic what evolution has perfected. Thinking vague thoughts about blind watchmakers and the fact that I didn't have my phone on me, I wandered further and further down the alleyway until my camera could pick up some light, which it then could not focus. Night shooting: it's almost like objects need to have light upon them to bounce off of them and then be received by some sort of light-receiving device like a retina or some shit so that it can then be visually perceived. Like perhaps vision is necessary to see things, I guess is what I'm saying.

Anyways, finally I reduced my artistic pursuits to blurring the street lights by fiddling around with my aperture settings and I got this bad boy:

Because when you don't have a tripod, embrace the chaos. Whoa, so arty! I actually am oddly fond of this because it's one of the first ones I took, so I super fucked it up because I didn't realize what would happen when I set the f stop to 22. I was very surprised that it took ages for my camera to process what was happening in front of it, and I was actually worried that I'd caused it some irreparable damage by challenging it too much (c'mon, you know the feeling when you have 20 tabs open on Chrome and then you try to open Powerpoint too and you're like shit, I've really done it this time), but turns out it was just doing what I had asked it to. Problem was I didn't realize what that was until I took a look-see! Anyways, I like that this photo was both born of and appears to be sheer randomness. There is no intentional composition or technique to it. In a sense, it sums up my entire approach to photography, which is to twiddle knobs in an uninformed fashion and then press down the button at the top and see what happens. Because honestly, I feel like I try too hard to do everything else the "right" way - arranging my future plans responsibly, studying diligently, handling my working roles professionally - and this is just fun to totally mess up and do weirdly!

So be ready for more purposeless, unintelligent and generally misguided photography pursuits in the future. For that is all I shall give ye! Hear hear!

Photo of the Week #1

Following Charlotte's impressive new initiative to provide some semblance of organization in this blog and follow a theme, I too would like to present my new theme. Yes, like the middle child striving to receive attention, I am going to wave about my accomplishments in the hope that you will acknowledge and perhaps even...love...me?

Seeing as that got weird (only two sentences in, doing well), let's move on. In deciding this theme I wanted to present something edgy, sexy, avant-garde, something that will make you re-think the words "hobby blog." Okay, I clearly haven't written a blog in a while because every time I start a sentence I end up taking it in the most ridiculous direction I can think of instead of actually building upon the content of this entry.

Let's try that again.

In deciding this theme, I wanted to echo the creative simplicity of Charlotte's clothing theme and pick something that is accessible to everyone but also has many different sides to it that can be explored. I also wanted to pick something I am more interested in as a hobby, rather than writing about something to do with animals (which I did all summer and could easily continue doing, but let's strive for some diversity here). So considering those criteria, I decided that I will try to keep my new photography hobby alive and do a Photo of the Week entry! (Click here to experience the proper level of celebration)

I only just acquired my very exciting new life partner, the Fujifilm X-A1 (shout-out to my homie Al for helping me find this bad boy!), two weeks ago, so I will preface my new initiative with the warning that you will not be impressed. I mean, you may be impressed with the ree-donk-ulous image quality that this dope little device creates, but beyond that the photographic prowess will be minimal, nay, absent. We can only hope that I will do this thing called "learning" along the way and actually improve, but since I can imagine that within a few weeks this Photo of the Week thing is going to end up with me going oh shit on Friday evening and taking a picture of my cat for you guys, let's not be too optimistic.

And with that rousing endorsement, let the fun begin! With the First. (BOOM) Photo. (POW) Of Theeeeeee Week! (applause, cheering, a charismatic host with perfectly coiffed hair enters, struts across the stage and leans casually on a podium; in case you want a visual, I am imagining Johnny Bravo's face with the red flared suit of Ron Burgundy)

Well Groomed Host: Welcome, welcome! Haha! Welcome to the very first edition of Photo (BOOM) Of (POW) The Week. I'm so glad you've joined me tonight - except you, guy in the front row (laughter) - haha but seriously. I'm so glad you've joined me tonight to experience this special moment in blogging history. Blogging history?

to stage left: I thought this was a reality TV show...uh huh...yeah...weird author...I see...yes...questionable mental state...hm...that makes sense...

Ohhh ho ho KAY folks! Sorry about that little aside, you know how it is in show biz, things happening on the fly! As I was saying our show tonight is going to include some of the most bombastic new photography on the market, courtesy of our resident photographer and easily distracted writer, Sarah Nason!

(applause, I enter via triple front handspring and land on top of the podium, then do that thing gymnasts do where they stick the landing and then hold their arms up like WHAT NOW)

WGH: What an entrance! You sure know how to grab a room's attention, Ms. Nason.

Me: Well thank you Mr. Host, I do what I can. (I casually descend from the podium and amicably put one arm around WGH's shoulders) Must have somehow learned a thing or two along the way, being an Olympic ranked gymnast for three seasons haha! (laughter)

WGH: So humble! Now, the producers tell me you have something special in store for us today. What's the scuttlebud?

Me: I'm so glad you asked exactly that question, Mr. Host. Mainly because I love the word scuttlebud. Indeed I have quite the treat for you all. All of you out in the audience, how are you FEELING tonight?!

(mild self-conscious cheers)

Me: I saaaaaaaaiiiiiid HOW. ARE. YOU. FEELING toniiiiiiiiight?!??!

(audience screams fervently because they do not want to be asked again)

Me: All RIGHTY then! I think we're ready to see something. 

WGH: Fantastic! What have you got for us tonight? (we each sit on a plush talk-show-y chair; he crosses his legs and leans in earnestly)

Me: Well. I hope you're all ready for something that's gonna blow your socks right off. My first piece that I would like to present to you is entitled "Obstructions II."

WGH: Interesting, starting with "II." What happened to one?

Me: In this series everything starts at two. Because the first time you try something, it's never going to be perfect. People who submit first versions of things are really just saying "hey, I'm lazy."

WGH: Deep, deep. Well, let's see this piece!

Me: Absolutely. Charlotte?

(Charlotte wheels a large, rectangular display currently concealed by a dramatic black curtain onstage and leaves the stage immediately, not even glancing at the audience; she appears to be in a rush to do something more important than indulging a fake talk show and checks her watch as she disappears offstage)

Me: Let's all give her a thank you! (audience applauds; holding a hand up to make it appear that I am whispering, yet still speaking at a significant volume:) She needed some work, poor thing. Keeping her chin up though.

WGH: (ignoring the clearly false comment) Would you like to do the honours Ms. Nason?

Me: You're too kind! (I walk confidently to the curtain and make a big to-do of gesturing at it in a model-presents-sports-car kind of fashion; after milking this beyond the point that it is at all funny, I whisk the curtain off the display to reveal...)

(the crowd applauds politely)

WGH: Is that...an awkwardly sumptuous photo of your cat?

Me: Correct.

WGH: ...cool.

Thoughts on Clothes: A Woman I Saw on the Train Once

So earlier this week I heard an interview with the authors of a book called Women in Clothes. It's about women's clothing, as it may not surprise you to learn, but not exactly the clothes themselves. The authors surveyed hundreds of women about how they choose what to wear and the reasons that drive their choices. Basically, it's a 500 page long conversation about fashion and identity.
Beyond the first overwhelming "I need to read this!" (and I do have it on hold at the library and am so ready to ignore my academic responsibilities in order to read it), the interview made me realize what a great topic clothing-related stories are. At least for me, the sort of girl who can tell you what she's wearing every day for the next week. Clothing takes up more space in my brain and my closet than I would perhaps care to admit, but I'd never really thought about writing about it much.
And so, I am this fine sunny Sunday debuting a new (and probably soon-to-be-neglected) series of blogs on a clothing related theme. The idea is just to tell stories that revolve around fashion, whether it's a story about something I have lurking in my closet, something I almost bought, or (as it is today) someone I once saw and whose clothes I won't soon forget. Explanation done!


If you've ever been to France, you'll know that the stories of French women and their sense of style are not exaggerated. I spent four months studying at a university in France and at the international students' orientation, one of the women talking about cross-cultural differences said to us, "I know, even just looking at some of you now, that people in the street can tell that you're not French by what you're wearing." For the French, I think the idea that you would put some effort into your appearance before going out into public space is pretty much just basic manners. Which seems lovely to me - but then respectability is just the baseline. Even if you, like me, consider yourself a reasonably well-put-together kind of gal, you simply cannot live up to the women striding confidently through Paris-Nord on six-inch heels.

Given all this, maybe you'll understand why I felt just a little bit sad to be in Paris as a weekend tourist with a large and violently pink backpack and scruffy Converse. Someday, I swear, I will live in Paris for a month or  two and I will be able to walk the streets in beautiful shoes and a long glamourous coat. But alas, that is yet to happen.

Do you see what I mean about that violently pink backpack?

If I couldn't be a paragon of fashion, however, I at least did get to gawp about at everyone else's clothes and ponder the joys of a city where people think carefully about what they wear.

I had just arrived in the afore-mentioned Paris-Nord train station on an early morning express train from Lille (the city where I was studying) and had hazily and haphazardly managed to manoeuvre the automatic ticket machines into spitting a slip of paper at me to allow me to take the regional express train into Paris proper. Down, down, down the grimy steps onto the dark and vaguely sketchy platform I went with my fluorescent backpack and my ratty shoes. (Why do the French care so much about appearances of people but so much less about the appearance of their cityscapes? Paris may be beautiful, but its public transit is definitely not...)

OK, so maybe not all Parisian public transport is ugly...

Before I had the chance to become too paranoid on the dingy platform (I was travelling alone), the appropriate train did arrive, in all its shabby glory. I stepped through the battered metal doors into the fluorescent light of a train car furnished with peeling advertisements and seats with heavily abused upholstery and sat down across from a tall, dark-skinned woman wearing one of the more fabulous outfits I have ever seen in my life.

She sat there, surrounded by the intense ugliness of the train, with her head wrapped in a emerald green silk turban, wearing a matching emerald green floor length dress. Gold hoop earrings, several gold necklaces and an emerald ring rounded out the look. She wasn't young. She wasn't old. She looked like she could have stepped out of Diagon Alley. She looked perfect. I had arrived in Paris.

The fact that I can remember this woman I don't know, who I saw once on a Paris train is entirely down to her clothing and my appreciation of it. Seeing this woman and her green magnificence brought the first hint on that particular trip of the sense of enchantment I feel when I'm in Paris. Her clothing reassured me that I had made the right choice to come alone to that big old city despite my little fears and it just flat out made me happy. For me, the memory of the woman I saw on the train in Paris is an illustration of the power of clothing to light up even dull grimy spaces, even dingy Parisian public transport.

Maybe that's not a deep story. But it's a start of what I hope will be more stories to come about red high heels, wool sweaters, men's scarves and all the other wonderful bits of fabric, leather and metal we drape around ourselves.

Smiling 'cause she's so stylish,
Charlotte

The Ol' Dekoley Trail.

You know when you reflect back on something and you’re like “wow, I actually did that” because you’re such a badass? Maybe you don’t know what it’s like, being totally BA. Allow me to share with you the golden details from the life of a real, my-right-hand-to-god, 100% guaranteed Bear Grylls type character. I speak, of course, of myself.

Now that you really hate me, let’s continue on.

Yesterday I found myself at the summit of a mountain named Decoeli (aside: if you own a Phone With The i Before It (ie. iPhone, unnecessary expansion copyrighted to Naomi) now is the time to find the alarm setting called “Summit” and pump that jam CRANKED TO ELEVEN. We discovered this beautiful composition to wake us up the night that we camped at the base of Decoeli, and it was so fantastic that we also blared it when we reached the top). Well, I didn’t find myself there like oh, check it out, I seem to be at the top of an impressively high peak right now. Fancy that. It was preceded by more like 6 hours of suffering all over my body that made me extremely aware of my goals at that moment. In any case, I had never hiked a mountain before and it was a really cool experience. We certainly did it in a wacky, unconventional squirrely way, too. You just can’t stop the zany out here!

Allow me to expand on the interesting manner that we approached our hike. First of all, we refused to miss the weekly rugby game that we attend on Thursdays at the Arctic Institute down the highway, even though the impracticality of fitting that particular event was pretty stifling. We wrapped up rugby at 10pm and made it to the trailhead by 11pm, and proceeded to attempt the two-hour hike in to the base of the mountain. By this point we were delirious with that excited exhaustion that comes at the end of a work week, and which possibly is exacerbated by the knowledge that you’re about to do something ridiculous. As we jaunted our way into the forest with the sun conveniently setting and various forest creatures moving in maliciously behind us, we contemplated how very Beginning of a Horror Movie the situation seemed, and nevertheless continued to bob our merry way into the woods.

As we all know, the Beginning of a Horror Movie always begins quite innocent and joyful. And so things began! What good cheer we were all in as we approached the rocky creek bed that would lead us directly and succinctly to the base of Ol’ Dekoley (a humorous mispronunciation of Decoeli – truly pronounced De-ko-lai, if you’re interested – led to that affectionate title, best said with a homey Pennsylvania accent). Alas, the creek bed shockingly possessed a creek that was rather pesky and obstructing our happy direct path. The gang thought, no problem! We’ll just cut through these willows on our left and take yonder ridge across to the base of Lil’ Ol’ Dekoley. Little did we know those willows on our left were a fucking pain and yonder ridge was actually composed of moss several feet deep that was also unsurprisingly a fucking pain.

So after quite a bit of fucking pain we descended back to the creek bed and found that our misguided endeavours had consumed time, and when time passes the Earth rotates on its axis, and sadly this movement relative to the sun results in DARKNESS. Getting to the point, we had to pitch camp. We found a lovely knoll of the grassy variety on the right side of the creek and commenced to camp and sleep. You know what happens next, we discovered Summit. Fucking amazing. Anyways, when Summit went off in the morning we dismissed it noiselessly and slept for another half hour, then discovered we were completely socked in by clouds. We also discovered that one of our group had dreamt that he was using radio telemetry to find people in their homes, which is way creepy. After waffling and being generally indecisive we finally decided to just hike it anyways, because? You know why! We’re BA.

After completely misinterpreting the hiking manual – OKAY, the hiking manual. I would do a stylish aside to explain the ways of the hiking manual if I believed that it could be done briefly, but there are simply too many things to say. First of all, I believe it is the first ever instructional publication to be reviewed on the back as “opinionated and irreverent.” Ah yes, exactly what I wanted from something that is meant to GUIDE me: irreverence. The hiking manual was ridiculed for this repeatedly on the way up the mountain. It featured such vague sentences as “the draw next to the brown rocks is not the draw you want.” WHAT. BAH. Okay whatever. So, after we understandably misinterpreted the instruction to “pass the three gullies which may or may not have water in them” and found that we had hiked up the second gully, which we thought to be a skree (we were finding quite a lot of joy in using words like gully and skree), we decided to Just Do It – thanks Nike – and Never Stop Exploring – thanks North Face. Up the incorrect side of Decoeli we went, eventually scrambling our way to the top and enjoying a cucumbery snack to the tune of Summit. And lo, the view from the top:

So in the end, all of our waffling and struggling and incompetence totally paid off. Take that one home to the kids: incompetence leads only to great success. Also: plan poorly and don’t budget your time, it works fine every time! Oh, and lastly: always pee before you go up the mountain. That one’s for real.

For your enjoyment, some more photos both grand and comical from our journey up the Ol’ Dekoley Trail (which doesn’t exist, thanks hiking manual)!

Halfway up the mountain, you get like that.

My three compadres, left-to-right: Erin, PhD student and resident Amish woman (not actually); Naomi, undergrad from AMURRICA (really not a defining feature, but obnoxious labeling is necessary); Magic Sam, graduate and late arrival who came to save us from drowning in work (hence his nickname).

A rock puh-tarmigan.

The creek bed at midnight. I guess I failed to re-state that we’re really far north, so yeah, that’s midnight. But still, c’mon, the midnight hike was BA! Right?

Sarah learns slowly to use the panorama feature on her iPhone. I guess I could have cropped out my failure, but that would take work. Anyways, this is the view from the saddle between Decoeli’s two peaks.

A shot that can only be described as epic. Naomi and Magic Sam on Decoeli’s smaller peak.

Another shitty panorama! Bet you were missing those black blocks in the last photo. This is us sitting at the taller peak, with Naomi looming disturbingly close.

Hoping this tale brought you a smile, or perhaps a grimace at the writing style,

SENsational

(a much better nickname based on my initials, thanks LCB!)