Costa Rica: Part I

It began, fittingly enough, with Journey. As the bus merged onto the highway in the early morning light the speakers softly emitted waves. “Anyway you want it, that’s the way you need it.” I talked classic rock with the driver as we headed south towards LAX.

The bus dropped me off at the international terminal. I checked my baggage and listened to announcements in four different languages as I waited for Marian, a friend from UC Davis, who would be my buddy for my flights to and from San Jose. We talked about mutual friends and our anticipation for the program as the geopolitical situation thousands of feet beneath us shifted.

The program we were excited about was a trip Central America. Through the University of California’s Education Abroad Program (EAP), we were going to spend fall quarter 2009 studying tropical biology and conservation in Costa Rica, a country widely acknowledged as a leader in both biodiversity and the effort to protect it. We would spend about eleven weeks traveling around the country with a group of 35 students representing most of the UC schools. Through the course of the program we’d learn about tropical diversity, community ecology, agro-ecology, and Spanish. We’d also spend time in home stays with local families and spend two weeks conducting an independent research project.

The first three weeks of the program, however, involved an orientation to Costa Rican culture and trips to see places representative of the wide diversity in this country. It all began in San Jose, the capitol of Costa Rica. Exiting the plane, Marian and I had our passports officially stamped, recovered our bags, and hired a taxi to take us to Hotel Cacts. We arrived late, just after midnight, and I had to wake up my new roommates in our shared hotel room as I dragged my luggage into the cramped quarters.

In the morning I woke up and met Jeff (one of the aforementioned roommates). The two of us proceeded up and down the maze of stairs that led to the breakfast area. I began the process of meeting the rest of the crew as I enjoyed my first plate of gallo pinto, a combination of rice and beans that is the mainstay of the Costa Rican diet. We met, mingled, and munched as the crowd continued to grow. Eventually the whole group had gathered, and Frank, the director of the Costa Rica EAP program, welcomed us.

The next few days were spent exploring the city, visiting museums and local eating food. But mainly we were trying to get to know one another.

Friendships formed quickly, and before we knew it we were on our way to La Area de Conservacion Guanacaste (ACG). Our destination was Pitilla, a research station near la Volcan Orozi

… to be continued…

Adventure Triathlon

I competed in the Off-Road Sprint Triathlon at Lopez Lake this morning. It was part of Scott Tinley's Adventures, which put on all kinds of triathlons (on- and off-road, sprint and long course, and even a kids triathlon) and some biking events this weekend.

Swim
The race started with a super short .25 mile swim. Normally I'd be excited to compete in such a short swim leg, but the cold I've had the past few days really slowed me down. Just 50 yards into the swim I was already struggling to wheeze in enough oxygen. After about 100 yards of freestyle swimming I had to switch to a breaststroke to keep my head above the water more so I could get enough air into my temporarily-dysfunctional lungs. I switched between the two strokes for the rest of the swim, trying to swim as straight as I could towards the finish chute. A guy next to me was doing a backstroke and had his eyes trained on me for the last 200 yards. Apparently

T1
I got out of the water and tried not to slip as I ran up the boat ramp towards the transition area. I took off my wetsuit as I went and revealed my colors—my cool blue UC Davis skinsuit, complete with a dangerous-looking mustang. Oh yeah. Now, there were three similarities between this triathlon and the last one I did at Lopez Lake: 1) I was sick 2) I felt pretty solid on the run (more on that later) and 3) They were blasting one of my favorite rocking pump-up jams as I transitioned at T1. Today was My Sharona (a controversial pick, I know—this song is hit-or-miss with many of my friends, mainly miss, but it gets me ready to ride). I took off running for the bike out area.

Bike
If there was one thing about this triathlon that had me stoked, it was this leg. Mountain bikes! Immediately after exiting the transition area we were directed to a single-track dirt trail. Getting stuck at the back of a long-line of ascending bikers wasn't so cool, but the frequent downhill jaunts were. After a few miles of single-track riding we were dumped out onto a street that led to a flat fire-road, which gave me plenty of space to pass some of the riders I'd been stuck behind.

There were a couple sandy patches as we looped back to the transition area. At one point I totally slid sideways in front of a crowd of about 30 spectators. I proceeded to throw my bike over my shoulder and run up a sandy little rise. I hopped back on the saddle and rolled past the transition area for my second lap. By now the field was more spread out and there was scant company as I caroused up and down the dirt trails.

Despite the fact I was repping UCD in Cal Poly territory, I got a lot of cheers from spectators as I rolled past. Some of the best cheers came from the young gentlemen of Grizzly Academy who were stationed at the bottom of the last descent from the single-track trail. They were really getting into the event, yelling surprisingly complicated encouragement and offering water bottles to passing riders.

T2
Unclipped my helmet, pulled off my gloves, and didn't even bother to pin my race bib on until I'd left the transition area.

Run
I've said it before: running in triathlon is nothing like running in cross country. In my high school running days the 5k was the big event. We were expected to run like hell and we were motivated by a desire to beat familiar rivals of similar speed from other schools. Not so in triathlon. After a .25 mile swim and 12 miles of hilly biking, the field was spread out and our legs were sore. My congested lungs were still trying to figure out what was going on. But my fierce desire not to let middle-aged men and 11-year-old boys best me in a footrace kept me going.

The first 2 miles were relatively flat, but there was something sadistic about mile 3. We passed the turnoff that led (with minimal elevation change) back to the finish and instead headed up a bitchingly large hill. It was a brutal climb. But the athlete in front of me was walking. My years of cross country conditioning told me that walking was not an option in competition. Walkers should be passed mercilessly and put to shame.

I steadily gained on the guy but failed to catch him before the road leveled off and we descended back to the finish. At the top of the hill an elderly spectator said, "Don't worry, you'll get him on the next hill." Oh yes I will, I thought. But the course was done going uphill, and as we did a quick descent to the finish I was beginning to lose hope. Not that I care about beating other racers, it's fun to have a friendly sprint to the finish in running races. So with the finish line in sight and a couple hundred meters to go I let loose, heading through the finish line at full steam. I hi-fived my defeated nemesis and received an awesome medal for finishing. A good finish indeed to a great race on a beautiful Central Coast morning.

Life and Times at SERC: Part I

What follows is Part I of a long account of my summer living and working at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center in Edgewater, Maryland.

I spent the last sixteen summers on California’s Central Coast. Sure, I had a few brief excursions to places like Kansas City, Las Vegas, and Zurich. But for the most part my summers were spent at home with my sisters or at the beach with my friends.

Last summer I worked with the Land Conservancy of San Luis Obispo County. Now I was getting paid to stay home and tramp around the dunes looking at plants. I had things figured out.

That same summer my younger sister Mariah also did some work in the Guadalupe-Nipomo Dunes. Rather than doing fieldwork she helped out with environmental education at the Dunes Center. It was there that she made the connection that sent her to Washington, D.C., to spend two weeks exploring the workings of the Smithsonian Institution.

Mariah happened to spend a day at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center (SERC) during her two-week stint on the east coast. Lying on the banks of the Rhode River, which feeds directly into the Chesapeake Bay, SERC touts itself the national leader in research on coastal ecosystems.

“You should apply for an internship there.”

I thought it was a long shot. But this was the Smithsonian Institution, an amazing opportunity to work with scientists at the top of the field and get some research experience to add to my curriculum vitae. Plus I’d never been to the east coast before, and I’d dreamed about visiting the Air and Space Museum as a warplane-obsessed kid. It’d be cool to get paid to go over there.

So I applied. And was rejected. “There were a record number of applications this year, and with reduced funding due to hard economic times we were forced to make some difficult decisions….” No surprise there.

However I was surprised when less than two weeks later I received an email from Ariana, a Postdoctoral Fellow working under Pat Megonigal in the Biogeochemistry Lab at SERC, offering me a summer position in their lab. Surprised—and ecstatic.

I eagerly accepted the offer. I finished spring quarter at UC Davis in the middle of June, and after a fortnight’s taste of California summer I boarded an airplane bound for Baltimore. Ariana picked me up, helped me get provisioned at the local grocery store, and left me in the care of a group of young strangers. My fellow summer interns.

I spent that first week adjusting to the time difference and getting to know the people in my lab. There was Tom, the post-doc who I’d be working with for the summer. Rachel, who was Ariana’s summer intern. Adam and Kate, a professor and intern pair from Villanova University who were doing work in the marsh. Jim, Ally and Nick, the techs for the lab and some of the nicest and most helpful people I’ve met. There was Ariana. There was Pat, who runs the whole show. And then there was me. New guy.

The new feeling didn’t last long, at least in my new social group. Though I lived in the Schmidt Building—overflow intern housing for the summer—I made a point to spend as much of my free time as possible in Green Village, where the majority of the roughly twenty on-campus summer interns lived.

Most of the interns were planning to spend that first weekend after my arrival in Virginia, at the home of one of the spring interns who’d just recently left. I tagged along and was glad I did—after some tubing on the Potomac and bonding time with my new friends I started to feel like a natural part of the group. The feeling carried over to the next day, when we made our way to Washington, D.C., to realize my childhood dream of visiting the Air and Space Museum. The capital made a happy impression on me that day. The Fourth of July fireworks enhanced the feeling.

The next few weeks I spent a lot of time in the lab getting acquainted with some of the instruments I’d be using in the course of my research. There was the gas chromatograph, or GC, which tells us how much methane is present in a sample of gas. There was the Leaf Area Meter, which does just what you’d think. And then there were the LI-CORs.

LI-COR is a manufacturer of scientific instruments. They have a wide range of products, but the LI-COR I got to know this summer is called the LI-COR 6400 Portable Photosynthesis System. I learned the lengthy startup procedure. Each morning, after my daily chore of counting newly emerged plants in our growth chambers, I checked to make sure each of our two LI-CORs had enough desiccant, that the fans were working, that the gaskets were air-right and that each had a fresh carbon dioxide canister.

We would use the LI-CORs to measure the photosynthetic rates of the plants we were growing. Tom had designed an experiment to study the effects of elevated atmospheric carbon dioxide and soil nitrogen levels on the growth and physiology of the Common Reed, Phragmites australis (which I will refer to as Phragmites).

A few weeks into the internship an opportunity arose to drive to South Carolina for Taterfest. Many West Coast folk, myself included, may not have heard of Tater, the heavy metal-come-bluegrass band with a charismatic frontman and jaw-droppingly spectacular lead guitarist. And that’s a damn shame. Tater and friends (various other bluegrass bands also performed) put on a fine show in an intimate outdoor setting. There couldn’t have been more than 200 very enthusiastic concert goers, and most of whom had camped out in a forested corner of the farm that hosted the show.

Taterfest was a cultural experience, to say the least. To that point I was unaware that some southerners refer to the Civil War as the War of Northern Aggression, and furthermore that t-shirts existed which pay homage to Confederate General Robert E. Lee. The trip also opened my eyes—or tastebuds, rather—to the delicious potential of Cajun-style boiled peanuts.

Rafting the American

I woke up early this morning to go whitewater rafting. Justin and I joined our friend/neighbor Jeremy, his father, sister, and sister's friend for a sunny day on the South Fork of the American River. I'll post pictures later.

I did this same trip a year ago with Outdoor Adventures. Growing up on the Central Coast I didn't get much exposure to rivers. Turns out they can be pretty dang fun.

Jeremy's father used to lead commericial rafting trips, so he provided us with boats and equipment for the day. We took two boats, one for four paddlers plus a guide and another paddle boat outfitted for one man, which Jeremy's dad spent most of his time on.

With the boats set up, gear tied down, and cars in position, we set out on the river and practiced our paddling. Then we were off. We spent the first half of the day going over easy rapids, getting a feel for the boat, and taking turns being the guide and steering the boat (stressful at first, but fun once you get the hang of it).

It was a crowded day on the river, with dozens of other boats lining up behind us at times. We'd occasionally stop in an eddy to let them pass.

Soon after lunch we had our first sighting of the "lollipop tree," which means that the Gorge and the fun rapids are approaching. We took on rapids called Satan's Cesspool and Bounce Rock, Justin and myself at the front working to keep the boat in the standing waves where the current is the strongest.

At the end of the day we reached Hospital Bar, the biggest rapid. Here Jeremy's dad took over as our guide, successfully leading us into a wall-of-a-standing wave, screaming our lungs out and getting pushed down into the boat with the force of the thing. That's what it's all about!

After Hospital Bar we were past the rapids. We caught up with forty-odd boats that had already finished up. As the other boats were tied together and towed out by jet skis we were tied to the paddle boat and towed out by Jeremy's dad. With the rapids done we needed something else to splash water around, so we took to using buckets and a double-barreled water gun we'd picked up from the river. We swam around, raided one boat from the other, enjoyed the relatively warm water.

We made it to the exit ramp, brought our gear up to the parking lot, began to dry off. Then came possibly the best part of the day as we deflated our boats, laying on the to force the air out. It felt good to stretch out under the sun.

Backpacking the Desolation Wilderness

Got back from backpacking on the Eagle Lake Trail in the Desolation Wilderness yesterday. Two-night trip with Karin and Justin. Lots of fun. See the photo album on flickr [soon].

Here's what we did.

Day 1: After class was over for the long weekend we loaded up Karin's car and headed out. Lots of traffic on the way to Lake Tahoe, so it ended up being a 3 hour drive. Pulled into the parking near sunset, grabbed our packs, and set out down the trail. It was a 1 mile hike to the campsite, past a waterfall and along the course of a stream. We reached the turnoff for Eagle Lake as the night was beginning to fall, found a suitable campsite in waning sunlight, and set up our tent.

Day 2: Woke up and took our time eating breakfast and breaking camp. I grabbed Justin's camera and snapped some photos while he and Karin pumped water.

Snow Plant (Sarcodes sanguinea)

Played around with the macro on Justin's camera.

Set out down the trail, ran into a group of rock climbers from Davis that Karin knew, chatted, continued on. So began a long day of encounters with fellow hikers of both the bi- and quadrupedal variety (lots of backpacking dogs!). We hiked upwards, reached a flat rocky outcropping with a view of Eagle Lake and Lake Tahoe in the distance. We lost the trail here, and ended up picking our way through rocks and snow for a while until we rediscovered the trail. With the trail mostly concealed by all the snow on the ground this became a major theme of the trip!


We reached the intersection of the Eagle Lake and Velma Lake trails and lunched at a nearby ridgetop overlooking another pair of icy lakes with a sheer, tall, snow-covered slope for a backdrop. Quite a change of scenery from my usual lunch on the UC Davis quad.

Made our way down the Velma lake trail with a pair of hikers and their dog Seven. Spent a lot of time searching for footprints, putting our faith in the navigation skills of the groups in front of us. We ended up in the right place, Upper Velma Lake, where a couple other groups of hikers were enjoying the scenery.

We continued on to Middle Velma Lake, making our way downhill until we reached a wide stream. Here we again met up with the intrepid Seven and company. Proceeded to cross the icy stream in our bare legs and feet, gasping at the cold as Seven stood immersed in the water and watched us. What a dog!

Two other friends from Davis came walking by as we pumped water by the stream. We hiked with them for a while, then went on to explore Velma Lake and find a good spot to pitch our tent. Our options: snow or rock. We decided on rock, and set up camp on the flattest surface we could find.

We lounged around for a time, enjoying the scenery and talking about the night's dinner. We ate spaghetti, a backpacking favorite, and polished off the last of the fig bars I'd brought. As the sun set on the Sierra we walked down to the lakeside and took a few pictures.


With the sun down, our bellies full of food and our minds full of beauty, we settled down in the tent. We left the side flaps unzipped and watched the stars and satellites pass overhead. As we drifted off to sleep we saw a bright shooting star come streaking across the sky, leaving a long tail.

Day 3: Another leisurely morning, waking up as the sunlight hit our tent. More oatmeal today, then the long walk back to civilization. We came to the same creek crossing from yesterday, and again trudged across the icy water.


Feeling bold, we decided to take a dip. Some of us (Justin!) decided to go for an icy swim.


After our dip we all dried off in the pleasantly warm sun, filled up on water again, and again hit the trail. Or so we thought. We ended up walking through unfamiliar snow and rocks, starting to feel a lost and looking over our map to figure out where we were. We finally saw a pair of hikers in the distance, made our way down and followed their tracks back to the trail.

More walking down the trail, banter with other hikers on their way in seeking word of the trail conditions up ahead (snowy!). Slipped and slid through snow and small streams of melt-water, trying not to step on weak points in the snow where our feet would sink through. Eventually made it back to the rocky outcropping we'd made the wrong turn at the day before. We lunched on a rock overlooking Eagle Lake and Lake Tahoe and spent some time trying to find the best route up a particularly large boulder.

As we got closer to the trailhead we met more hikers of an increasingly wide age range. Finally made it back to the car and a crowded parking lot, changed into fresh clothing as driver after driver inquired as to our departure plans ("We'll be a few more minutes!"). Crossed the street to take a look at a heavily touristed but still stunning waterfall with a view of Emerald Bay and Lake Tahoe.


Then back to the car, and the long drive back to Davis. Got back to a delicious Indian meal with friends, with the added bonus of a Star Wars movie night and chocolate cake dessert. The perfect ending to a great weekend.