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30 days of hiking: Days 4 & 5

Yesterday and today were both overcast and the clouds above the range I hike have been dark and foreboding. It’s a fearful intimidation I have of the valley when it’s stormy. It’s part of what’s so important to me about hiking the valley every day, that it forces me to deal with fears. There’s a component to the fear that’s very reasonable, as flash flooding in that narrow valley would be the end of me, but the irrational part feels like the fear of seeing bigfoot, or swimming in dark water. I’m not a very spiritual person (in the traditional sense), nor do I believe in pseudosciences, but that valley scares me into superstition. I also get freaked out swimming in the falls pool when I’m alone. All I can think about is something pulling me under (I feel like there are some Hawaiian legends about Mo’o doing just that!). 

Today I skinny dipped at the falls since I had the whole trail to myself. I think about the giant Malaysian prawn when I swim in the buff! I passed two couples on the way back down. Because of the rain, the trail’s been super slick. Yesterday my foot slipped off a rock and I banged the inside of my left ankle pretty good. It must have hit a tendon cause it caused some weird pain up and down my leg. I did it again today to the same spot! I’m pretty sure footed, and usually avoid slipping but on days like today I don’t stand a chance. There were a handful of slips that could have led to pain but I lucked out, aside from slipping in the mud and wedging my leg under a fallen tree branch. 

Because I’m barefoot, I walk differently than when I’m in shoes. I walk from toe to heel instead of heel to toe, and consequently have the opportunity to feel where I’m putting my foot down before I commit. The trick to feeling before committing is all in the legs. I found that I was wearing my legs out even on lazy days of hiking, probably because of the demands from my feet and the trail. Barefoot hiking is all about balance and control. Stumbling wildly on the trail is tempting fate. There is also, as I mentioned in the previous post, the mental component. You’re scanning the ground ahead for the best footfalls and holds, considering terrain (dry, slippery, crumbly, sharp, steep), and monitoring the health and fatigue of your feet. It promotes (necessitates?) awareness. It’s the beauty of all natural activities, that there are wonderful and plentiful consequences! 

I’ve been coming home with a head full of questions after each hike. I found a Flickr group for Hawaiian plant I.D. with thousands of pictures and people’s best botanical guesses. I’ve been seeing this incredible tree with brilliant purple flowers all over the jungle and found that it’s a mountain apple! I I.D’ed night flowering jasmine, mamaki (a Hawaiian medicinal plant), and some others. With every familiar face in the forest, it becomes more welcoming and friendly. I harvested some of the mamaki to make tea and am excited to learn more plants and trees, not only for the satisfaction of knowing what they are, but also knowing what they’re useful for, and if possible, how to sustainably harvest and use them! My latest mystery is a strip of bark I found on the bank of the stream amongst some other flotsam. The bast fibers were amazingly strong and beautifully uniform. I made some fine cordage from it and am dyeing to know what the plant is!

I haven’t really timed the trip but today I think I left the house just after 8, and got back home around 11. I think it’s around a half hour of riding on either end which makes trail time 2 hours! I’d like to time it on a dry day. I can feel that I’m getting into a groove physically, and have been dropping body fat like crazy (every time I look in the mirror I’m noticeably thinner (don’t worry mom, I started out with plenty of reserves so I won’t waste away any time soon!)). I can easily set a pace and stick to it without getting winded or needing brakes. It feels wonderful to be in shape. My upper body gets a workout as well since a quarter of the trail is through thick hau bush which requires climbing over and under twisted branches. I think because I’m doing the same trail, I take note of good routes and footholds and ways of moving through challenging areas. In doing so, it pushes me to be stronger and have more stamina to pull off a series of movements which gets me to the other side safely and quickly. 

I had been hiking with a camelback for a while, and enjoyed the convenience of a pocket for packing in my phone and wallet and knife and soap, but it got stinky and got thrown in the laundry and I hiked without it and loved the freedom. Now I hike in a pair of board shorts and have nothing else on me. I ride with my camelback and bring it up to the first spring and refill it for the ride home, then stash it in the bushes. I’ve made a habit out of stopping at the spring halfway up the trail on my way up and back down. It’s a magical source of water, tucked deep in the hau, trickling out of the side of the mountain. It’s ample hydration! One of these days I’m going to learn where all of the low hanging pointy branches are in that area to avoid whacking my head on them all the time. 

Every day after the hike I’m pretty useless for a few hours. Food and a cold shower feel good. I can’t help but wonder how my Lyme disease factors into this. I’ve had Lyme since I was 12, and was doomed to have chronic Lyme since it was 6 months before we could figure out what was going on. It effects me every day. Sometimes it’s just feeling tired (despite a good nights sleep, good diet, no alcohol, low stress, etc.), other times (usually in addition to tiredness) I have brain fog, confusion, and almost always have horrible memory. I also get bad depression, chronic stiff neck (never ever goes away!!!!!!), headaches, insomnia, severe anxiety, weak vision and lots of floaters, inexplicable soreness and muscle pains and weakness, lightheadedness, etc. 

My Lyme was actually a big motivation for doing this hike. The best I’ve felt since contracting Lyme was when I was doing my bike ride across the country. Two months of blissful Lyme-free days! My mind was clear, body fit and healthy, happiness abounding. It was incredible! And now I’m enjoying that same relief  from the hell of Lyme. My theory is that all the exercise is doing good things for my immune system, which in turn keeps Lyme at bay. I’ve been reading Buhner’s “Healing Lyme” and am feeling more and more empowered about beating the disease. I hope that this can be an inspiration for anyone else suffering from chronic Lyme. Be your own advocate, educate yourself on the disease so you’re not fully reliant on doctors, be proactive and lead a healthy lifestyle (good diet, good relationships, low stress, no alcohol, plenty of exercise and plenty of rest. Shouldn’t everyone be doing that?!), and have faith in plant medicine, after all, plants have been evolving incredible biochemical defenses for millions of years and those compounds can have amazing results when administered properly (read Buhner’s book!).

I suppose I’m digressing and rambling so I’ll end here. Hopefully another glorious day tomorrow! 

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A few more. 

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More trail!

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Pictures from the trail, and some other random ones. 

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30 days of hiking

Today was my third day of an attempt to hike 30 consecutive days on my favorite trail, through my favorite valley, on my favorite island. Kaua’i has been good to me and I always feel rejuvenated when I visit. My hanai family and friends are to thank for always making it such a good stay, and of course, the natural beauty and ideal weather of Kaua’i as well. 

It may seem odd to hike the same hike over and over when there are so many others to do on Kaua’i, but I had a feeling there was wisdom in experiencing a (living) place throughout all of it’s faces and temperaments. I was right! I have hiked this hike maybe 20 times in the past two months (many attempts at the 30 days in a row) and have seen people looking for lost friends, rocks falling from sheer cliffs, gushing waterfalls, a swollen stream, tons of mud, and sweet sunny mornings, a crystal clear mountain stream, orchids and torch ginger and white ginger, singing birds, pristine and serene!

Another benefit of hiking the same trail has been that there is a rhythm and familiarity to it, and it leaves me focused on what I’m doing and weather my bare feet are safely planting, which leaves my task simple, allowing me to meditate. A guy I met on the trail today described that phenomenon as “kinetic meditation”. It’s truly wonderful that I leave the trail happier and calmer than when I set off. 

I should mention that I’m purposefully leaving out the name of the valley and trail because I don’t want to promote this hike. It’s in the guidebooks already. I may just be greedy, but my thinking is that I’ve seen the state parks that get so many visitors that they put up fences and buildings and gift shops. The charm of this valley is that it’s pristine, and remote, and even the trail that leads to the waterfalls is both a rugged and challenging jungle path and a beautifully elegant footpath, made by feet, with all consideration of the natural features. I would hate to see it closed permanently because someone slipped and fell, then sued the state. 

I’ve been learning a great deal simply by being in the valley, and I suppose, being observant and inquisitive. One example was a tree I saw all over the jungle which reminded me of a cross between an avocado tree and a False Kamani. I couldn’t figure it out. One day I stepped on something that stuck to my foot with vigor! I thought it was a slug but discovered it was actually a fruit. it had visible strips of the sticky stuff running down the sides of it. I looked up and there was that tree I couldn’t I.D.! I googled it and found that it was a bird catcher tree. If I had only seen the tree once, I wouldn’t have found the fruit and made the connection!

Another time a girl was walking around the trail, in a fairy-like way, harvesting Hau (sea hibiscus) flowers for a salad and she handed me one to eat. It would be a good substitute for lettuce. A nice young local guy was picking ferns next to the road right by the trailhead. He was harvesting the young ferns of this particular variety for salad. He said they were good with tomatoes. Another guy showed me a very wonderfully cool and clear spring halfway up the trail, hidden in the thick hau bush. I’ve made friends and have been given guidance unexpectedly. 

I shipped my bicycle out here and have been commuting to the trail on it. It’s 12.6 miles round trip. I stash my bike in the woods. There’s always a cloud of mosquitos waiting for me at the tree I lock my bike to. There are tons of mango trees on the commute, good views all the way to the center of the island, and the last stretch is on a small backroad (the type where improvisation is the accepted method for passing oncoming cars) and the properties all look like botanical gardens, with the misty mountains behind them. 

Yesterday and today my hands were busy making cordage on the trail. There’s an abundance of fibers waiting to be harvested from the broken limbs of the hau. The branches grow way out over the stream, and then when the stream rages they snap and expose the inner bark, which separates easily and makes decent cordage, though it’s not very strong and I can’t imagine it has any rot resistance, if I keep it dry (when not in use!) and use it wisely, I should be able to make a useable net for catching river prawn! I keep seeing them. Plenty of them, and they’re big! Like skinny lobster. It turns out they’re giant Malaysian river prawns, and they were accidentally introduced, so I don’t have to feel bad about catching them. I’m going to try and make my trap like the old school crab traps that look like baskets on a string. When they sink to the bottom they collapse into a pile. When you pull up on the string, the trap retakes it’s basket shape, hopefully with a prawn in it! Of course, I’ll have to find bate that they’ll go for. 

I’ll post some pics and do my best to write entries about the hiking. 

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Doldrums, Rain, and no more Diesel, Day 7&8

I’ve neglected my journal and now I forget where I left off... Ah! I read my previous entry and nothing was ringing a belluntil I saw what was had for dinner. Dinners seem to be milemarkers of this trip. I believe the next night was steak w/ scalloped potatoes. It was tender and wonderful. At this point we were into the high pressure system and the water was glassy, and the air was hardly stirring. It was like a lake w/  no shores. The reflection of the sky on the water was big molten globules of pale blue and white, morphing and writhing.

We spotted a 600 foot cargo ship headed for South Korea which roused little interest. Toward dusk, Jim and Dillon on watch spotted fish under a rusty and barnacled floating car wheel. We circled and hooked a beautiful 20 pound Mahi! We saw three more, one of them being a massive, gorgeous, brilliant blue male. Since we were motoring on the windless lake we were able to easily maneuver around the tire and shamelessly try everything short of dynamite to snag another (or all) of the fish. They were determined to stick with their tire, and we destined to be bored sailors and bad fisherman!We resorted to being satisfied and grateful for our one mahi and motored on into the sunset, amped for more fishing opportunities.

We motored the next day, which was gray and had 12 knots of wind from behind. We hoisted an impressive jib arrangement with a spinnaker pole to get us wing and wing. We sailed with that set up for the better part of the day, surfing down choppy waves and bobbing about, motor sailing and averaging 10 knots of boat speed. I spotted a sailboat headed the same direction as us but reaching and zigzagging in front of us. They were in sight from midday till well after dark with 12 to 16 knots of wind and we motor sailed under main alone on a run with the mains’l touching the spreaders, illuminated by the steaming light halfway up the mast.

I forgot to mention that during the day we were using a jibe preventer: a line around the boom, made fast to the deck to prevent the mains’l from jibing, that is, swinging to the opposite side of the boat. We had a sail tie and whoever was driving must have accidentally been sailing by the lee and backwinded the main with enoughwind to snap the sail tie and send the boom shrieking across the boat. Fortunately no damage was done. I was playing my uke on the cabinto by the mast and was a bit alarmed. The night was miserably wet and I couldn’t manage to sleep a wink between shifts, which was frustrating, but I made up for that in the morning and slept until my late morning shift. I was relieved early to make use of our last mahi filet. I made mahi burritos with creamy fish taco sauce. I went back to sleep after lunch and am taking my last moments before my sunset shift to update my journal.

We are out of good wind, but without sufficient diesel and so must make way under sail alone regardless of speed. We have around 850 miles to the boat’s home in MDR. If we can keep up our pace of 200+ miles a day we should arrive in under 5 days.

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Sailing Day 6, halfway

Today marks, more or less, the halfway point between Hawai’i and Marina Del Rey. We sailed north to get out of the prevailing west tradewinds and took a right turn and are now in the high at lattitude 36º; pointed towards California. The rest of yesterday was pretty uneventful with sunshine, the occasional puffy white cloud, peaceful rolling seas, a few stray pieces of floating garbage, and the whirring of the engine and gentle vibrations from the prop.

We had rack of lamb for dinner last night and finally pulled down the jib and gave in completely to motoring on my early a.m. shift while going through a squall in the darkness. We weren’t far from sunrise when the autopilot got lazy and forced me onto my toes and behind the wheel, as it was rounding up from the freshening breeze. I was wide awake (usually sleepy on the late shifts, but never sleeping) for the rest of my watch with adrenaline. The moon came up like a hunk of aged cheddar, yellow orange, and immediately hid behind distant clouds. What the sun paints with color and vivid detail the moon paints with haunting beauty and mystery. The moonlit seascape was vast and filled with billowing cumulous clouds fringed in orange. The moon was shattered and scattered over the throbbing black sea. I suppose it defines a journey: in our daily life we see a moment of a scene, or a thing, or an emotion, or a situation, with little dimension of time. On a journey we experience it all unfolding, every moment, which compunds the depth and richness of the experience.

I skipped breakfast, had tea during my watch since the lattitude brings with it the cool. I slept after my watch ended at 7:30 am and woke up around noon to Jim asking me if I wanted chili dogs. I responded with a jesture: me rolling out of my bunk and into the satee. Chili dogs with onions and cheese, salsa and guag and chips. Yum! I spent the afternoon writing music, singing, and playing uke. There was a great amount of pounding of the bow against the sea, or vice versa, which made the whole boat shudder violently. Twice in a minute for an hour. It was driving me insane but fotunately it subsided.

No boats have been spotted for days, which isn’t abnormal for this part of the trip. I love the isolation this trip affords. Everyone has acclimated and is in good spirits. We’re getting goofy, presumably out of boredom, but I enjoy it. I am very happy and a big breath of fresh air only seems to exacerbate my condition!

Sleepy time.

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Sailing Day 5

The good weather continues. How wonderful! We had mahi steaks over a bed of rice for dinner and it was excellent, though, admittedly, I gorged on trailmix early in the afternoon and didn’t have nearly the appetite I should have to enjoy the meal. I didn’t sleep all that well after dinner. I suppose it’s partly due to the lingering muginess below deck, and partly due to good wind and a heavy heel to port (me having a starboard berth). I had a 3am watch accompanied (as with every watch) by Craig first, then Patrick second. It was my first watch catching the sunrise on the trip. I enjoyed it. The wind was barely above Patrick’s threshold for motoring so we’ve been motoring on and off as the wind comes and goes.

Last night we caught a big fishing net on our keel which was long enough to slap off of the rudder 35′ aft, fortunately it was clear of the prop and we were able to back off of the net. I was watching through a small observation window below deck which looked straight down at the keel with the help of a flashlight. I watched our hitchiker fall away into the darkness and we got back under way, gaining a knot and a half of boat speed. The milky way certainly lived up to it’s name before the moon came up and I saw two dramatic stars along with a handful of others.

I’m getting acclimated to this lifestyle shift and my stomach seems to have adjusted as well. My appetite has returned and I have a readily available store of smiles and joy. I sat on the bow today, cradled in the stainless steel bow pulpit and rode the rollercoaster as I was cantilevered high above the sea and plunged down in, soaking my feet, then lifted out over the next rolling swell. I could do this for hours. Woohoo!

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Sailing from Hawai’i to California

Here is my account of a sailing trip that took 12 days. I did my best to keep a journal of the adventure for myself, friends, family, anyone considering becoming a sailor, and those for whom the idea never occurred, and perhaps for thosecurious enough only in the vicarious experience. I’d like to preface it with an explanation of the circumstances that led me out into the pacific ocean.

4 years ago I decided I wanted to be a sailor. It was a slow and naive ascent that led to that grand notion, but I see that decisive moment of resolve, when fantasy becomes reality, to be a precipice; a knotted stomach and dizzying high. The proceeding hours and days are an obsessive frenzy, and this is the theme of my dreams turned reality. This particular obsessive frenzy was almost silly in it’s simplicity.

I googled boat yards close by, and as luck would have it, I was just miles form one of the largest marinas. I went down to a boat yard in Marina Del Rey and wandered into the office where I found a sweet receptionist sympathetic to my cause. I remember saying something like: “I want to be a sailor. I want to learn as much as possible about sailing.”. She thought I was asking for a job and said they weren’t hiring, hesitated contemplatively, then said “come with me”. She led me through the busy yard, past sparking grinders, dusty paint tents, under giant boat cranes, and down the docks to a big sleek sailboat. We stopped at it, about eye level with the deck and she hollered “Patrick?”.

Patrick, the captain/ navigator/ race program manager popped his head out from below and listened to the receptionist’s appeal for me. He took one look at me and gave a salty Irish sailor’s reply: “It’s hard work, long hours, dangerous, expensive, and there’s not much money in it. If you really want to be a sailor you should sign up for lessons.”. He was attempting to weed out the serious from the unserious and at that moment I wasn’t quite sure which side of the line I was on, but before I left, Patrick added that they were testing out a new sail the next week and I could go along if I wanted. It was just the push I needed to sign up for sailing lessons and do my best to make an impression.

I went sailing on Grand Illusion and was really impressed with the boat and thrilled to be out on the water. I mentioned that I was taking sailing lessons but Patrick was more impressed with how much the lessons cost than the fact that I was taking them. Nonetheless, he invited me to stop by any morning to help with the boat and absorb some sailing knowledge. I showed up every morning before work and helped as long as I could before jetting over to Santa Monica. After a few weeks of this I got invited to do the delivery back from Hawai’i and I accepted immediately and was excited beyond words. A week later I was offered a full time job working for Patrick since his previous employee developed health problems and could no longer work.

I put my two weeks in and began a full time job on a sailboat, well, two weeks later. I continued my sailing lessons and did some races on various boats to learn as much as I could. Patrick proved to be an excellent boss that I always had a great deal of confidence in. I thought highly of his character and sense of humor. I enjoyed my time working on the Grand Illusion and also had the opportunity to work on Pyewacket V, one of Roy Disney’s beautiful sailboat’s. Marina Del Rey is a beguiling port for a young sailor and I eventually left Patrick’s employ to shine up a 110′ sailing yacht and was whisked away to San Diego for a haul out and refit of that same boat.

I think somewhere in that time frame I came closer to death on the sea than ever before. It involved a crewfinder site, a nice bluewater catamaran, a retired Korean-Canadian nuclear physicist egostistical unqualified seasick wreckless “captain”, a wonderful new friend, a squid boat, thick fog, a near mutiny, and just a touch of common sense and self preservation. That story will have to wait though because I am digressing terribly!

4 years later I was back in Hawai’i preparing for my third TransPac delivery with Patrick on the Grand Illusion. I should also quickly explain what TransPac is: A race from Long Beach, CA. to Honolulu, HI. Where nearly 60 sailboats compete for the fastest time amongst other prestigious and sometimes silly prizes and titles, completed under sail alone. The sailors are racing 24 hours a day until they reach the finish line. It is an incredible feat and I am so impressed by there dedication and skill; dedication and skill which I do not possess. The last part of this preface is to apologize for the jumbled mess of a journal. The sequence is mostly in order but there are gaps and the days don’t really add up, I misplaced a day somewhere I think. Hopefully this journal gives you an idea of the experience. It goes like this:

On the Boat! Sailing Days 1-4

I haven’t been keeping up with my journal on this delivery for two reasons: sleep and an upset stomach. Getting on a decent sleep schedule is tough for me because it’s hot and muggy, there are rough seas, and innevitably, late night watches. The first few days of the trip I tend to sleep and/or attempt to sleep in all of my downtime. By day 4 I’m usually all caught up and capable of seeking alternative forms of entertainment to unconsciousness (like writing in my journal!). My upset stomach seems to be, to my recollection anyways, no worse than previous trips but certainly longer lasting. I even broke down and took some dramamine yesterday. There’s no vomiting involved and it is tolerable, but food and drink is not appealing and I can’t concentrate sitting below deck reading.

The fresh air and cool breeze above deck is a pleasant reprieve. Today my sea sickness is all but gone and the trip has become much more enjoyable. I am sailing alongside 5 guys: Jim is a recently retired firefighter ( he makes this fact clear with his grown out hair and bushy facial hair) from Washington state and has been sailing with Patrick for many years. This is my second delivery with Jim. Another fine sailor that also did the previous delivery and is currently working on G.I. is Dillon. He’s about my age, but a far better sailor, in fact, He did the race over. Craig is the 4th man and was a stranger to me when we set sail, but has become a fast friend. He was born a Canadian and grew up sailing on lakes and came to live on O’ahu via San Francisco. This is Craig’s first bluewater trip! The young blood on the boat is Francis. He lives with his folks in Idaho and spends his summers teaching sailing in Marina Del Rey, CA. Patrick is our fearless leader and is one of the best and most knowledgeable sailors on the sea.

Patrick is skipper of the Grand Illusion: The 70′ fiberglass monohull racing sailboat we are currently returning to Los Angeles after it’s exciting race across the pacific ocean, competing in the TransPacific yacht race from Long Beach, CA. to Ala Moana, HI. Grand Illusion won the race overall this year and did the same thing 4 years ago, just before my first delivery on the boat! It’s a sleek, barebones racing sailboat, but has just enough comfort to make it a great boat to deliver.

We eat well and drag fishing lines most of the trip (Patrick just put a big salad he just made onto the table where I am writing) and infact just hours ago we caught two 15lb mahi. Dillon was dragging the first fish in when the second one bit a second line. It was pretty exciting. We filleted beautiful steaks off of them right on the stern of the boat. We’ll be having mahi steaks for dinner needless to say! The weather has been excellent so far on the trip and our first night was bathed in a gorgeous full moon. Every evening since has been accompanied by moonlight, making the night watches so much more tolerable and engaging.

After motoring out of Ala Moana with Diamondhead and waikiki to our left, we pointed west and bobbed at 10 knots, watching the leeward side of O’ahu pass by and contemplating the trip ahead of us. There was an obvious wind line at the edge of the island, manifest in choppy white capped seas. We put on our foul weather gear, raised the jib, and anticipated the challenge. We broke out from behind Ka’ena point with 20 knots of wind and big seas, heeled over accordingly, and took some slaps in the face from the energetic ocean. The winds have decreased steadily over the course of these 4 days.

Not long after entering the heavy winds and waves we spotted Maverick, a fellow TransPac boat heading back to O’ahu. Patrcik hailed them on the radio and found that one of the crew had fallen and possiblly broken an arm. It was a sobering start to the trip. We shook a reef on the delivery mains’l yesterday and swapped to a 100% jib (from 75%) due to the waining winds. Almost time for my watch. More to report tomorrow!

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Trev's Non-Travels

I think my last post was from HawksView, the cabin in the woods. The album took two months to complete. It was an amazing experience and there were lots of extremes throughout the process, both good and bad. I've never been so stressed out, not being able to come up with lyrics or good songs. I've also never felt so good, 12 hour days flew by with hardly a break to go to the bathroom or eat. I have always been amazed when I hear someone say "I love my job". I never liked a job, not even working for myself. I thought there was something wrong with me until I posted up in that cabin. I had these grand visions of my album going viral and having this huge buzz. Being played on the radio. That vision was very far from reality and was heartbreaking to come to terms with. But from that experience I gained valuable lessons and adjusted my expectations. I also learned that being successful isn't ONLY about loving what you do or being good at it, but also about putting LOTS of time and energy into it. I have a long way to go in all of those respects. I heard somewhere that success comes with 10,000 hours or 10 years invested in a pursuit. I started making music in 2004 and have about 2,000 songs and instrumentals that I've made, averaging out to about 5 hours/ song, which is roughly 10,000 hours. But that was only one aspect of being a musician. Now I am learning how to perform, be in a band, market/ promote, book gigs, etc. So I came back to reality after the cabin with something to show for my effort, but no plan to move forward with my life. I worked some for my parents improving the property and logging firewood. I became pretty obsessed with primitive skills like hyde tanning, drum making, cordage with natural fibers, etc. That lead me to Primitive Pursuits; A local program that takes kids into the woods and teaches them primitive skills. I applied for a job with them and signed up for a "Wilderness Skills Instructor Class". The class and people involved are amazing and I have learned so much. The woods is now a much more fun and exciting place to be, where I feel welcome and comfortable. I decided that I had to have a dugout canoe, so I kept my eyes peeled and have ended up with a monster sycamore log that weighs about 4,000 pounds. I am doing a work trade with the guy I got it from. The log is in the yard, waiting for it's transformation. I've been making wooden bowls and baskets and spoons and drums, but I have a feeling that the canoe project will be the work of all of those other woodworking projects times 100. When i was in the cabin digging through my music catalog for songs/ song ideas for the album I came across 40 reggae songs and made up my mind that my next album would have a reggae theme. I got to thinking that it would sound way better to record real musicians playing the parts. Then I figured why not just start a reggae band!? The idea grew on me more and more until I had to post a craigslist ad looking for musicians. Two weeks later a 4 piece reggae band was together for their very first practice. We all clicked and played for 6 hours straight. It has been magical ever since. Now, 3 months after the ad was put up, we are playing our first gig! Here's our demo: https://soundcloud.com/trevorthorperoots/sets/trevorthorperootsdemo Other than a quick trip to Kaua'i to help family, there have been no travel adventures, though every time I have to deal with taxes or health insurance I begin formulated an escape plan to some far off corner of the world where "the man" can't find me. That's all for now. I'll try to keep the blog up to date with the canoe dig and what the reggae band's up to...

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The Cabin and Rune Hill at night

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Fishin' and the cabin

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Cabin for a musical retreat!!! 

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Moloka'i! 2

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Moloka'i!

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A month in paradise

After 2 weeks in Hawai'i, 2 weeks sailing, and 2 weeks in Los Angeles I happily returned home to my wonderful family. I was content to be at home, well, forever. So for a month I reveled in the country life, and the sweet summer. I joined a band, deepened my relationships with friends and family, helped build buildings with my father and brother, picked apples, drove tractors, and of course, made music.

But something was calling me back to Hawai'i. Something always calls me back to Hawai'i. I began thinking about moving there and one day decided I really was going to. That day my friend living on Kaua'i sent me a message asking if I wanted to be flown out and paid a bunch of money to set up; a gym on Kaua'i. I didn't hesitate and two weeks later I was on a plane bound for the islands. 

I worked for 3 weeks and then spent a week on Molokai with my Hanai family. I met much more of the family and had a great time. I got to see much of the island. Some of the family took me out fishing at night. They had set long nets out in a specific pattern which corralled fish and at night 6 of us went out in a boat to collect the fish. I jumped in the chest high water, which was the perfect temperature and learned from them as we pulled fish from the net. There was a small black tipped shark in the net which we kept and some other nasty fish but one of the young guys with us wrestled them confidently and even beat on fish's head against the side of the boat until it stopped moving. It had some gnarly teeth!

After a few hours we had collected all the nets and a large cooler full of fish. We turned the generator and lights off and just swam in the warm, still water under a bright moon and starry sky. How perfect.. until someone through the shark into the water with us! Fun Molokai style I guess. 

I got to go hunting in the mountains which gave an incredible view of the coastal fish ponds, some of which were hundreds of years old, Lana'i, Maui, and Kaho'olawe. There were plenty of axis deer and black goats but we had limited time and didn't really get out of the truck. We had a fish fry one night with all the fish we caught and I enjoyed it all. One dish was a grey goop which was pulverized, raw fish. It was seasoned and salty and good over rice. 

The family was so wonderful, warm, and open and invited me back whenever I want. It was hard to leave, but in the time I was in Hawai'i the draw that brought me out diminished and I had one of my monthly midlife crises where I question everything I'm doing and feel like a failure. What did I want out of my life? What be the ultimate? Easy! I want to be a successful musician, or at least to be able to make music all the time. 

So I left Hawai'i and am renting a beautiful 1 room cabin in the woods 6 miles from home in Spencer, NY. It has a wood stove and a view of the entire valley. I spent all the money I made setting up the gym on good studio equipment and at the beginning of November I'll move in for a month and start writing and recording music for an album or two. 

As with most of my adventures I have not done much planning. I don't know what genre of music I want the album to be, or the theme, or what I want to say. But whatever. 

[trevstravels]

Sailing Day 12

Just after I finished my last entry Patrick called us on deck, fully geared up. We were past Point Conception and into the Santa Barbara Channel, with oil rigs to our left and dark jagged silhouettes of the channel islands to our right. It was still overcast, dark, cold, and windy: 16-18 knots.

Our task was to douse the spinnaker, so Dillon, Pete, and I went up on bow, (adventure land as they call it) while Jim worked the spin halyard and Patrick drove. Patrick turned down off the wind to ease the tension on the sail while Jim released the halyard and the three of us on bow did everything in our power to retrieve the sail and land it safely on deck. We were all tethered to something on the boat but the excited sea and breeze and darkness and numb fingers made this task quite challenging. It's like being in one of those money grab games where all the bills are blown all around with a leaf blower, except instead of green backs you're grabbing at octopus tentacles trying to pull you into the water. 

By the time the huge spinnaker was on deck, I was buried and crawled out of the endless folds as the tack line and sheets were detached. We stuffed the kite through the forward hatch and then sat down in the cockpit for a breather. We motor sailed for the rest of the night with the wind at our back. Auto managed to beat out Dillon's trip speed record by surfing down a wave at 16.9 knots. 

I didn't get much sleep as predicted, but after my early morning shift I slept until my late morning watch. We all stood on deck telling stories and jokes, laughing, and occasionally working to tidy up the boat, but it was all giddy anticipation of the end of the journey. The overcast skies broke up under the proud southern California sun, and like all good sails from Marina Del Rey, the end is punctuated by a gagging waft of pelican crap from the break water wall. 

We joined the returning day sailers in a line of boat traffic and then backed up to the dock, tied off the Grand Illusion, did more tidying, sail flaking, dealing with food, then drank beer while everyone waited for their ride. 

THE END!