koalas in Christmas hats

Thanks for always looking out for me :)

Another year-gone-by sort of post.

First up, thanks for being my friends and family. You're all awesome and I love that I can count on you to be there for me through anything. I love that even though I'm not super stellar at keeping in touch, the friends I do re-connect with share their lives in such a way that I feel like no time or distance has really passed between us. I love that my friends and family can do anything, talk about anything with me- whether it's a baking bonanza, a jog (or slog) around the park, a Disney marathon, a serious discussion about what kind of poo I just trod in, or how to make my computer cooperate. So thanks, to all of you. I hope I"m the kind of person you like to be around, and I strive to be there for you, too.

Secondly, this year was great, in no small part to those above. I got to see a new country- New Zealand, a place I can't wait to go back and see more of. I explored my home state, taking in the history and sights that were both old and familiar but new and different, thanks to the lens of living in a faraway coutnry. I went to California, a new part of my home country (to me), which was beautiful and big and super-diverse. I visited new parts of Australia, climbing in Victoria and finding pretty places in the bush around Sydney. In exploring these places, I found parts of myself, and quite a few of these spots were a bit rough around the edges. These are places I can polish, experiences I'd like to try again with a bit more mindfulness.

Me in my element- sitting by a creek, poking stuff.

Thirdly, I learned a lot this year. Not just facts and figures, but skills, too. I got over my fear of making fermented things, and I encourage everyone to give making yogurt a crack (so tasty! So easy!). I baked, I got my nerd on, I even knitted my cat a scarf. He hates it, but that's okay. I am getting better with stats and bugs and plants. I can get a point across, and I can explain something to someone in at least 10 different ways. I dig what I do on a daily basis, if only because what I do requires that I dabble in anything that pops up.


There's a lot happening in my life (and everyone's life, really), a lot of bustling and busy-ness. Sometimes it's easy to get caught up in that crazy current. Still, however, I have a good feeling for what I want, where I stand, and what matters to me. To me, that's reassuring.

I'm super excited for the new year. I'm facing some hard work, some long days, some grueling weeks, and a LOT of stress. But I'll get through it, I'll learn a lot, and next year I'll wonder where the time went. I'm looking forward to my fieldwork, and excited about the prospect of publishing. I'm excited for all the climbing, the surfing, the running and swimming and biking I'm going to do this year. I wonder what kind of breads and cookies I'll concoct, what new fruits and vegetables I will try (this year it was Jerusalem artichokes), what new places I will see.

And that is all, at least for 2013 :)

Not to rant, but...

I never intended this blog to be a place to rant, but I'm in need of some therapeutic venting.

Sometimes we can all feel a little fragile. For me, as a woman, I notice these things are often due to things that are mostly outside of my control. It could be hormonal, the effect of missing the boost of my body preparing for the possibility of new life. It could be that little bit of sexism I get every day, be it men taking up more than their fair share of a seat on the train or the way the world pummels me with how I'm supposed to look, act, feel, and think. It could even be feeling the injustice of how good some people have it, while others in so many places are being actively being destroyed by cultures of war, consumption, injustice, inequity, or even just plain violence. So yes, sometimes it gets a bit too much, and all it takes is one more asshat with one more snide comment or judgmental sneer to push me into a pool of anger, sadness, and/or anxiety (I guess depending on what kind comment it is).

So here's my story. Yesterday I went to the doctor because I've been feeling a bit unwell. I wanted to make sure that something wasn't wrong, like seriously wrong, that would cause me to feel how I did. In short, my head-achey, stomach-churning, heart-racing feelings were probably due to anxiety, but anxiety over what? Yes, I stress about my school work, but I also enjoy it. I feel incredibly lucky to glean the satisfaction that I do from my occupation. Yes, I have a cat and housework and things piling up all the time that need to get done, but so what? Don't eat off my floor, but who eats off of the floor anyway? And yes, I've put on about 3 kg extra that I don't want- but I can also do clapping push-ups, a couple of pull-ups, and pistol squats, and I can run 5k without too much concentration. As they say, muscle weighs more than fat. My ticker ticks, I'm fit as a fiddle, and I have the core strength of the Hulk. So something, I thought, must be going on, hence a trip to the GP.

The GP, Dr A, without taking my pulse, without even asking me how I feel, instantly tells me that I need more exercise, and also to drop some weight. Thanks, asshole. So an anxious woman walks into your office, concerned about her health, and you tell her something that she hears from every television, every pop-star, every advertisement, every magazine. Dr A consulted his knowledge (opinion?) of what healthy females look like, super-imposed that image over me as I sat nervously in his office, and made the call without quantitatively measuring one single aspect of my health. I think Dr A deserves a poo-coloured medal for contributing to my unhappiness, for being that jerk who pushed me over the edge. And what infuriates me is that I let him.

For some context, my BMI puts me at the lighter end of "overweight". Bear in mind, this same scale puts people who look skeletal on the lower end of the "healthy" range, and labels some Olympic athletes confidently in the middle of the "obese" category. The drawbacks of the BMI scale are well and truly known by most people who actually care about the public's health and well-being, yet many doctors rely on this number to draw conclusions about a patient's health. And in my case, without even checking my pulse, my blood pressure, my body temperature, or investigating how much I sleep, what I eat, and whether I've had any sort of traumatic incidents happen recently (or ever).  Dr A didn't even ask me if I was pregnant, or menstruating, or on any medication.

Now, when I left the doctor's office, I will confess that I burst into tears. I confess this not to fish for sympathy from anyone, nor to reach out for help, but instead to illustrate my point- we all feel a bit fragile sometimes. If I knew how often other people couldn't take it anymore and just let go (whether through crying, punching pillows, being snitty with a shopkeeper, or whatever), I think I'd feel more normal. I'm done pretending I'm strong all the time, and I'm done pretending that everybody, in fact anybody, has their life any more together than I do. We're all struggling on one level or another.

Anyway, I held it together long enough to buy some milk, and then sobbed quietly to myself as I trudged up the hill to my apartment, hating my messed up mood, hating my supposedly unfit, overweight self, hating the fact that I still had no answer as to why I felt so shitty. I proceeded to internalise all the shittiness of what had just happened to me, blaming it on myself. I almost felt deserving of such an asinine diagnosis because I couldn't deal with my problems myself. I discussed the shittiness with my husband, who, being a bit more rational than I was at the time, reminded me that I am healthy and strong, and that Dr A deserves to lose my business. I had a chat with another good friend who confirmed that Dr A was a fool, and that she knew a doctor who approached health as something a bit more holistic- and gave me that doctor's number. And after that, I felt better. Maybe not 100%, but enough to get me started on making my own choices on what to listen to, who to believe, and what to do to bring balance back to my mind.

And then I did what I always do when I need to center myself, I went for a run. It wasn't a punishing run, and it most definitely wasn't spurred by the advice of my doctor. I jogged leisurely around the park a couple of times, watching old men play with their granddaughters, watching young men practice footy, watching grandmas do tai-chi, watching women chasing kids chasing puppies. And I did feel better, not because I was burning calories, but because I was connecting to my own strength, my own resilience, and my own power. Endorphins, yep, for sure they made me feel better- but so did realising that I don't need to listen to all the shittiness. And guess what? I feel better, I feel stronger, I feel more closely connected to the ground that I stand on and the people I stand with.

So, the bottom line is that it's time to stop taking crap from people, particularly people who have no right or ability to make any sort of call about lifestyles, health, and well-beings other than their own. It was shocking to me that a doctor could fall into that category- I've always been under the impression that doctors tend to know what they're talking about. We're all smart enough to know when someone is talking bullshit, but for some reason, (I at least) still assume that even if somebody is spouting bullshit they are worth listening to if they have a degree/suit/office/whatever to validate their nonsensical advice/diatribe. What's up with that? Enough is enough. Sorry Dr A, I refuse to become an miserable waif in support of your quest to maintain your schedule- don't worry though, you won't be seeing me again.

USA Holiday

Tom and I have returned to Sydney from our trip to the US!

It was a busy trip, but we loved (almost) every minute of it. We visited my family on the East Coast for about 2 weeks, then headed west for a week to California to explore a little bit (and break up the massive flight back to Sydney!).

Highlights included, in chronological order:

- Seeing family and Herdland, where they, the chickens, the dogs, and the cows will shortly be calling home! It's a pretty spunky place, with the original house being a log cabin and subsequent rooms added on in a Miranda Westfield-esque manner. It's really easy to get turned around in that house! The land is gently rolling, the barn is massive, and the roofless silo overlooks it all. Possibly my favourite part is the indestructible chicken coop, which looks more like a prison or bomb shelter than anything else. It'll be a bit of work, but my folks seemed pretty excited about it. The place has rich soils and an even richer history (Presidential overnights? Treasure in a well? Murder on the stoop?!), so it will be neat to hear more of what they discover in the coming months.

- Visiting family in my native Baltimore, we enjoyed tasty food, ridiculous portions of ice cream in Little Italy, playtime with my second cousin (2.5 y.o.), and a tour of the Inner Harbour. Tom got himself a new Orioles t-shirt, which, alas, was not pre-shrunk. He now rocks a muscle shirt, and I love it. I enjoyed seeing massive crabs in the harbour, and little itty-bitty fuzzy ducklings hanging out on the rocks. I hope the two shall never meet.

- Surfing, fishing, and long sunset strolls on the Outer Banks in North Carolina with my family. A week of gentle, lake-like conditions with patchy rain briefly marring an otherwise perfect week of weather. The humidity of the southern US enveloped us like the maw of a giant canine, but thankfully at the beach a bit of a breeze and a dip in the Atlantic fixed us right up. I managed to do a little work while I was there, but the 3-second rides on my surfboard got in the way for hours at a time. The best part? All of the above. The worst? The last 20 miles to the beach that took us 3 hours to drive due to the ridiculous traffic. I wish I was making that up.

Tom and I realised how little we get away to the beach, even though we live only 20 minutes from Cronulla. We have promised ourselves not to be so lame from now on. If anybody has a surfboard that needs a good home, we're willing and able.

- Playing tourist in Virginia! Tom and I ventured to White Oak Canyon, a 10ish mile hike up and down a ravine alongside one of the prettiest creeks I ever did see. The trail tops out at the Skyline Drive, a pretty famous road that winds its way atop a portion of the ridges within Virginia's share of the Appalachian Mountains. We saw a rattlesnake (my very first!), a baby bear (where mama was, we didn't stick around to find out), a chipmunk, and a bright green caterpillar. I also had a close encounter of the fishy kind: while wading in the stream to counteract the aforementioned heat and humidity, I noticed little fish nibbling at my feet, toes, knees and hands with reckless inattention to their own safety. Perhaps I was covered in parasites, or I tasted salty and delicious, or I had a lot of dead skin, or maybe all three, but those fish would practically let me hold them in my hand as long as they could nibble on my goose-bumped and pruny skin. It was weird, and ticklish, but kind of enjoyable. As with most things that are hard to describe as either good or bad, I will simply say that I would do it again.

- We also checked out Harper's Ferry, a pretty important place in the American Civil War history. Basically, the town sits at the confluence of the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers, which when combined with the rail line running through it, makes it a pretty strategic place for transport and military ventures. It changed hands between North and South several times during the war, and has many stories to tell about all the facets of pre- and post-Civil War life in Virginia. Oh, and the scenery around Harper's Ferry is simply stunning. Thomas Jefferson (America's 3rd president, writer of the Declaration of Independence, and founder of the University of Virginia) said something along the lines of, 'It's so impressive it's worth coming across the Atlantic to see it'. Although the Pacific is a bit wider, Tom and I were impressed too.

While at Harper's Ferry, we stopped in the Appalachian Trail (AT) Conference headquarters, which is the "psychological half-way point" of the 2,000+ mile long AT. What a feat for human feet! Maybe someday...

- We explored the house and gardens of Thomas Jefferson's Monticello. Irrespective of how much you know or care about American history, going to a place like Monticello is a fantastic thing to do, and here's why. The way the house and grounds have been preserved and restored gives you a really good idea what life was like for landholders back in 1790 or so. It's incredible how much work needed to get done, and it becomes totally obvious why slavery was something required to make and run large houses and the hundreds of acres of land required to support them. No electricity, no refrigeration, no easy access to global trade, no planes, trains nor automobiles! Manpower, indeed. And without going too deeply into war and economics and slavery and the foundations of core American attitudes and beliefs, I think going to Monticello and having a good long think about all the difficulties of TJ's life and times helps one appreciate the complexities of our modern world- except multiplied by every other culture's own tangled pasts, raised to the power of industrial might and environmental degradation. I wonder if the Founding Fathers would step out of a time machine and spin on their heels?

On a lighter note, at Monticello Tom saw what a peanut plant looks like for the first time in his life, and I saw what a cotton plant looks like for the first time in mine. And we both finally saw a sesame plant- did you know that one plant makes about 20-30 pods, and within each pod is only about 6 seeds? Can you imagine how many sesame plants you need to make a sesame seed bun? Or a few milliliters of oil? My mind was blown, and I hope yours is too.

- California! We drove up highway 1 from San Francisco, stopping at Muir Woods, Point Reyes, Bodega Bay, Humboldt Redwood National Park, and Benbow Inn before returning our rental car to San Francisco and dragging our sunburnt selves up and down the steep, foggy hills of that lovely town. I wish we'd had a month to take in the whole of Northern California, or at least week to camp among those glorious redwoods. Briefly, the redwoods blew my mind- I was most impressed by the way they clone themselves under stress, including when they fall over. I also didn't know that they literally intertwine their roots with each other, making their otherwise shallow and weak root systems able to hold their massive heads high. Awesome. The further north we got, the more impressive the redwoods became. I loved the quiet murk of the redwoods, the shades of red and gold and black that the sunlight made as it filtered through the biomass. I loved the sound of the wind in the canopy so very far overhead, the dearth of other tree species, and the ubiquitous clover-like ground cover of redwood sorrell and fern. It was like stepping back to a simpler time, and eerily soothing.

We stayed in a B&B in Olema, and based ourselves there for a big walk through Point Reyes. It seemed like we walked through a different vegetation type and landscape every 10 minutes or so, from heath scrub to towering conifers, boggy creek bed to lichen-festooned snag, sea-cliff to grassland. We went from watching sea anemones and kelp swaying in tide-pools to camphor-scented laurel thickets, eucalypt stands to poppy fields all in 15 miles, with stunning, rocky coastal scenery to boot. Not a bad walk! Upon returning to the town, we had some tasty, locally produced Californian wine and cheeses to revive us and see us through to dinner- but I will  adamantly declare that Dungeness crabs have no hope of competing with Chesapeake blue crabs in the tastiness department!

Further north we stayed in the historic Benbow Inn, a big hotel built in the 1920's and maintaining the feel of that era to this very day. It was another trip back in time, complete with flapper-inspired tunes piping into the lounge room as we played a hearty game of Scrabble (I got my first ever 8 letter word!). It was thorough and tasteful without being cheesy or musty. I would recommend it, and even do it again.

And then there was San Francisco. Part gritty and awful, part soaringly gorgeous and steeped in cash. I wouldn't want to live there, but I sure did enjoy drinking in the views it had to offer. We walked, and walked, and walked some more, until we caught a trolley down the unbelievably steep California Street, and then we walked back to the hostel and caught our ride to the airport. While walking, we took in China Town, Coit's Tower, Japan Town, Fisherman's Wharf, the Golden Gate Bridge, Golden Gate Park (complete with bison, who knew?), Russian and Nob Hills, and the strung-out, beaten-down derelicts around Union Square through to Tenderloin. My favourite part? Definitely the sea lions at Pier 39.

And that about sums up our trip- now it's back to the grindstone, which I'm actually super excited about. I'm demonstrating a course this semester and have an incredible amount of work to do before November, but I'm still super excited and happy to be where I am. I feel so lucky to be doing what I like to do. But on that note, I really have some work to do, so I will check in later.

Pop

Ah, that familiar feeling of wishing I wrote more often.

So what has been happening? PhD land, mostly. I'm making progress- I wrote my proposal! Distilling all of my thoughts and plans and understanding of everything I've read about my topic for the past 8 weeks (is that all??) is way easier said than done. But I did it, and in 5 pages to boot. The next step is a meeting with my supervisor, co-supervisor, and two members of my panel to make sure I'm not trying to do something *too* impossible, and then I'm off on my merry way.

Next stop, literature review, and hopefully something publishable. When I got sick of writing my proposal, I was digging around in 30 + years of herbivory and/or biogeography work and looked for studies that told me something meaningful. Sadly, those papers are few and far between. I recently trudged through 2,000 + papers, about 600 of which looked promising, and about 30 of which had data that was useful. Of those, I think only about 2 are what I truly need. This is going to be a long, long road. But I am making little tiny baby steps, slowly but surely blundering along like a confused and flight-challenged moth towards the light of truth.

I think I might have neglected to mention this, but I almost dislocated my shoulder a couple of months ago. Long story short, don't climb when you're tired! It popped out, then in again, and after 3 visits to the physio I was told to keep strong, pay attention to my scapular position, and then all will be well. I haven't been climbing since the incident, but I'm hoping to get back into climbing form soon. I figure I can handle dive-bomber pushups and one handed downward dog (thanks Zuzka!), so I'm off to a good start. With some rock-ring action, I'll be super-strong again soon. Climbing again is going to be frustrating since I'll probably get spanked on things that were easy just 3 months ago, but oh well. It's not so much about getting spanked or setting records as it is about having a good time and being outside. I think overcoming the trust issue with my shoulder will be the main obstacle!

Until next time...

post hole digging

Today marks the very end of the very first week of my life as a PhD student.

For those of you who weren't privy to the ball of stress that I was in the few weeks previous, or didn't know how ridiculous the process of getting enrolled was, I can share that in a minute. But for now, I just want to say that this is the first time in a while that I've felt productive and fulfilled, challenged and overwhelmed, and totally at peace with the joy of getting my nerd on. I love it! I know it's going to be a lot of work. Enough work to make me crazy. But I'm looking forward to it, and I'm looking forward to the windows and doors that will now be visible to me. What's more, I love the people I'm around every day, I love that I get to see my husband ALL THE TIME (no, really, he sits about 5 feet away from me), and I love that I get to think. All day. Everyday. Whether I can get my brain dust bunnies out or not.

My topic so far is about how plants change as they get onto islands. Or if they change. Or if they change in any sort of broad pattern. It goes back to Darwin arguing with himself for years and years before Wallace came up with the same ideas and pushed Darwin into publishing his Victorian-values-shattering theory on how species come to be. I'm learning a lot about Darwin, biogeography, plants, and theory after theory after theory. I have no idea what will happen or what nuggets of truth will emerge.

So, getting to this point was not easy- it all hinged on my permanent residency, or PR, coming through in time. I thought this wouldn't be a problem, but I ended up just barely making it. I literally rang up the department and begged them to let me know how to find out if I had a visa grant number yet, and thankfully I didn't get a total turd on the other end of the line. I was given my number, which I swiftly sent off to the appropriate gurus at uni, who then requested I come in early the next day to sign a form and that I bring hard proof of my PR ASAP. Needless to say, a lot of stuff going awfully wrong for a little while before was sort of made up for by a lot of stuff going remarkably smoothly and quickly just when it counted the most. I am ever so thankful for all those folks who bent the rules or put themselves out of their way on my account. <3 p="">

A Glimpse.

I don't really have anything to write about, so I thought I would give you a glimpse into what runs through my mind with a collection of totally random, hopefully entertaining, thoughts about my daily life.

***
Work. Or, How Retail Kills the Soul.

Customer (snittily): Do you work here?
Me (in my mind): Oh, hello to you too. No, I'm not busy. How are you this fine, sunny day? I see you're in a shopping mall. That must make you sad. That makes me sad too. Why, no, I don't work here. I just wear this hideous shirt that hasn't been washed in 3 days because I'm a bum. It just happens to say "TEAM" all over it. I'm a very team-oriented person. Also, I like to wear a name tag because sometimes I forget and call myself Fancy Pants McGee and end up in Kings Cross with no pants at all. That's because I'm too fancy for pants. Also, I really, really enjoy folding fleeces, so I just come into this shop and fold fleeces in perfect little squares. I like it when people like you ask me if I work here because people like you are always so pleasant and always have such interesting things to say.
Me (in real life): Yes, how can I help?

***
H is for Hygiene at Home.

Man on train clipping toenails: CLICK. CL-CL-CLICK. Shuffle. Shuffle. CLICK. CLICK CLICK.
Me, concurrently: Grimace. Angry stare. Gri-grimace. Oh thank goodness. UGH THAT'S SO GROSS! MAKE IT STOP! Grimace.

***
Life Unstoppable. Or, Reflection on Mortality.

Strawberry plant in the morning after a hot day and several days of neglect: Withered and sad, even looking a little bit dead.
Me: Crap! I shall return with a watering can! But first I will eat this tasty berry...
(watering and general puttering in the balcony garden)
Strawberry plant in the evening: Looking like nothing had ever happened.

I wish people could do that too. I'm fairly certain that if I didn't eat or drink for 3 days, I would die. And I would most definitely not be making tasty berries for my neglectful benefactor to eat.

***
Animal Behaviour.

Cat at 06:59: meeeow? meeeeew? meeeeow?
Me: zzzzzzz--
Cat at 07:00: MEOW! MEOOOOW! MEEOW! MEOW!
Me: (stumble out of bed) Meow?
Cat: Meow?
Me: Meow!
Cat: Meow!
Me: (giggling)
Tom: Is that you or the cat??

***
Fits and Starts- Better Make That Shits and Startles.

Man at the gym: 42 8's! Come on! YEAH! YEAH!
Me: (on my last set of burpees for the day and feeling rather burped)
Man at the gym: YEAH! (disturbing grunt) 37 19's! YEAH! PUSH YA BASTARD YEAH!
Me: Aaaaaaaaand it's stretching time. Then it's get the hell out of here before someone poops his pants time.

***

Project: Green 19.

I strap up my shoes, check out the holds, and say, "climbing". No hand holds yet, so I lean into the wall, get my feet up, and slowly stand up. Balance and breathe. Next up, some crappy little slopey bit of pinching awfulness, but it's better than nothing.  Next up, the angular undercling thing, which is surprisingly awesome. Secure, even. On it. Adjust my feet. Reach up, up, up to the right, and there it is, my crimpy little side-pull. Got it. Okay. My fingers hurt a little, adjust a little, should have trimmed my fingernails. Next up: the boob. The most awful piece of slopey craptastical hold, greasy from the skin of so many frustrated climbers and slick with the sweat of hundreds. Awful. Atrocious. And just a little bit too far away. Never mind. I match feet again, decide that I was better off before, and match back. Deep breathing. Determination glowing in my eyes. I'm gonna slap that boob, and I'm gonna stick to it. One, two, three, LAUNCH. SLAP. Slipping. Sliding. I fall. I stand up again. I adjust my feet. I get my tummy back in line. I try again. I slap the boob and I stick it. Excellent. Now what? I look around, never having made it this far, and without a clue what to do next. I feel my hand slipping off the boob. I shift it urgently. I try to keep my foot on the sloper it found. I can't. I fall. I will get you, you big green boob of a hold. One day you will taste the rubber of my Scarpas.

MOUNT ARAPILES

Last time I wrote, I was getting psyched up about our trip to Mount Arapiles. I think I explained this last time, but having been there I can say it again: Mt. Arapiles is the most awesome place around for climbing trad! Basically, it's this giant lump of rock sitting in the middle of a seemingly limitless flat plain. When you climb to the top of the rock, you can see for miles and miles and miles. It's completely flat, something that I haven't had too much experience with and that is really quite weird. It's so flat that the world just seems to end, except for a dim outline of the Grampians a fair way off.

The trip itself took about 13 hours of driving, which Tom and I split and broke up with small (sometimes big) diversions like a ramble through the birthplace of Black Caviar (a race horse), a gawk at the dog on the tuckerbox, a giant merino ram, and a reflection on the exploits of Ned Kelly. It was a pretty cool little trip, actually. No wait, make that a big trip. 13 hours is a long time to sit on one's duff.

The Big Merino, conveniently located near a petrol station and a McDonalds. Road tripping in Australia is more of an art, and apparently is taken very seriously.

Once we got there, we picked a camp spot, set up our tent and our mess area, whipped out one of our 20 liter jugs of water, pulled out the sleeping bags and Therm-a-Rests, and BAM! Our home for a week was established.

Home sweet home! If you look closely you can see our scrambled eggs ready for the pan in the tupperware on top of the cooler. Nom nom!

On a side note, I love camping! I like falling asleep around dark-time and waking up at light-time, and not really worrying about how many hours (and days?) have passed. I even love not having to shower. It was so dry out there that any sweat was instantly evaporated, and there was none of that sticky oppressiveness that is common in Sydney and Virginia. At night, the temperature plunged so that we needed our fleecy pants and puffy jackets, which was a dream to sleep to. Also at night, this weird noise would occasionally sound, and we spent 3 days trying to figure out what it was. Finally we noticed a tawny frogmouth sitting in a tree and the pieces came together. Falling asleep to crickets and birds is so much better than neighbours' muffled television sets, road noise, and airplanes...

Anyway, we lucked out with the weather and got 3 solid days of sunny, mild weather. We also got 1 day of hot weather and 1 day of really effing hot weather. It was so hot and dry that I didn't know how much I was sweating, just sitting there in my folding camp chairs, until I shifted slightly and felt a cool patch rapidly disappearing as my sweat evaporated. I read a fair bit of War and Peace that day as it was too hot to climb until the sun sank a bit lower in the sky. Sharing our shady spot with us was the tawny frogmouth mentioned earlier and a big, fat dragon, both of which looked miserably hot. Every now and again the tawny frogmouth would protest about the weather and shift position. We knew it was time to go climbing when both of them decided it was cool enough to move.

As for the climbing itself, it was pretty fantastic! On our first day there we hired a guide to teach us a little about the rock in the area, and also to critique our gear placement skills. He also showed us some nifty tricks for setting up anchors, which were immediately useful and appreciated (we forgot to bring enough slings on one of our first climbs!). I had never really placed gear before, nor built anchors, so it was all very new and exciting. I also had only ever done one "big" climb before (see Sweet Dreams), so putting it all together at once was a bit scary, to be honest. I'm lucky Tom has had lots of practice guiding from his previous exploits or it might have been really scary.

That's me in a high place! 

For those of you who are interested in the more technical bits, the hardest grade we climbed was a 10 (Australian grade, don't even ask me what that means in American and European grades) and that was enough for me! The climbs we completed included:

• Guiding Light Variant (4) [eh...]
• Hammer (4) [my first trad lead ever!]
• Exodus (6) [AWESOME!]
• Marshmallow Sea (7) [not my favourite climb!]
• Revolver Crack (7) [AWESOME!]
• Trooper One (7)
• The Deviant (7) [Loved it!]
• Diapason (8) [SO GOOD!]
• Spiral Staircase (8) [long one!]
• The Deacon (8) [AWESOME!]
• The Nude Ballloon Dance (8) [AWESOME!!]
• The Priest (8) [SO GOOD!!]
• Holdup Line (10) [Spicy bits!]

 The hardest I led was a 7, but I led bits on most of the climbs we did which added up to lots of practice! Every climb had some sort of 'spiciness' factor, whether it was exposure, coming out over a bulge, or even stepping over a void. We used heaps of small cams, lots of small nuts, a few RP's, and even a few hexes and tricams! Tom managed to place 3 hexes in one pitch, and I managed to place two solid tricams in one of my pitches (granted it was more of a scramble than a climb!). Natural protection abounded, and there were quite a few instances where all you needed for a bomber anchor was a bit of creativity and a few slings. I definitely would recommend Mt. Araps to anyone who is looking to have a good time climbing and can stomach a big long roadtrip. I am committed to keeping up my strength and fitness so that next time we go back I can explore some higher grades and try some of the routes recommended to me. I've got the bug it seems! We are already scheming about which routes we will try when we go back...

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In other news, the time for my visa assessment has arrived! According to my calculations, yesterday was the first day that the Department of Immigration, henceforth Dimmi, would have even looked at my file. Assuming maximum efficiency of both Dimmi and Australia Post (a big ask, I know), Wednesday will be the first day that I can start looking in the mailbox with bated breath. The stakes are high on this gamble: six more months of my life gone to waste in retail plus the loss of a scholarship (alternately, if I decide to just eat the cost of international tuition, a buttload of cash). So, yes, I am a little stressed. Thinking about it makes my stomach ache. I will let the world know via this and other outlets when I am done with this silly waiting game, and quite possibly throw a party, so keep your eyes peeled and your fingers crossed if you please!

Coast Track Round 2

An adventurous month for us indeed! To kill two birds with one stone, the next bit of adventuring we had was climbing at Bangor with some workmates. It was all kinds of fun, and climbing regularly lets me improve slowly but surely. I am starting to feel more comfortable and confident, which should come in handy for the trip we have planned from 1-7 of February for ARAPILES!

For those of us who are not aware of Australian climbing lore, Mount Arapiles is a big hunk of knobbly rock poking up out of a plain in Victoria. It used to be a sea cliff, in fact a few sea stacks still jut skyward as if defying the waves below from eons past. Since then, the sea has receded and left Mount Arapiles for rock climbers from around the world to enjoy. There are some seriously famous (and notoriously hard) climbs there, none of which I am even close to being able to do, but maybe one day.... There are climbs well within our reach too, so don't worry. We are going there to hammer trad placement and anchoring skills into our brains and soak up the climber-dirtbag lifestyle for one short week of smelly bliss. Ah, can't wait.

Also on the climbing front, Tom and I tackled Sweet Dreams on Sublime Point in the Blue Mountains. Sweet Dreams is one of those ultra-classic climbs that everybody has to do, apparently. It was Tom's 3rd time but my first, and also my first BIG climb. It was 177 meters, 5 pitches (we combined 2, normally it is 6 pitches, a pitch being the number of times the belayer catches up with the lead climber due to the limited length of the rope).  I was feeling totally, indeed utterly confident on 4/5 pitches, and all the pitches were well within my ability as a climber, but the 5th pitch was just SO HIGH and SO EXPOSED that I couldn't stop myself from wigging out a little bit. I wasn't piss-my-pants scared, but I did have to consciously make an effort to take slow, deep, even breaths to calm myself. I was 100% focussed on what I was doing, and such laser-like concentration is so rare and so rewarding that even being totally wigged out to achieve such as state was well worth it. And getting to the top, WOOT! What a feeling!

In between Bangor and Sweet Dreams we also ventured from Bundeena to Otford via the Coast Track, which is actually the second time I've ventured along that track (just in the reverse direction). The walk is actually surprisingly tough on the feet, mainly because most of it is along sandstone escarpments looking out over the ocean. A hat is absolutely required, and at times the wind was strong enough to make me miss my footing. My little monkey toes are still recovering from the hammering they got, and all the climbing we've been doing probably hasn't helped, but oh well. There wasn't much gain in elevation, although what climbs and descents cropped up were short and steep and left me a little bit puffed. But it was totally worth it! Seaside walks are always nice and cool because of the breeze, and there are always cool creatures and plants and geological features to ponder. We had a very luck trip in terms of fauna and spotted heaps of skinks, dragons, birds, bugs, crabs, and even an echidna! I love echidnas, such an unlikely animal, but so cute at the same time. Did you know that a baby echidna is called a puggle? Even better.

So next up is about 6 more days of work, then 7 days of holiday. I am being shifted from the city store to the Bondi store, which adds some extra time to my commute. I guess on the upside I will have more time to read on the train, and the hours are such that it will be easier for me to get a morning session in at the gym or getting sweaty in the park with our new boxing pads and mitts. Until next time!

Nowra trip

Since I last wrote, Tom and I have driven down to Nowra, about twice as far from Sydney as Wollongong is, for a climbing trip. The drive was pretty and the sun was shining- the makings for a good trip!

We arrived at the Shoalhaven zoo, which rents out its spare parking lot as a campground to people like us. It was kind of interesting setting up a tent with peacocks strutting about.

After we set up the tent, we headed off across the Shoalhaven to the sportsclimbing mecca of Australia- Nowra! We wandered up to an area called Thompson's Sunrise and climbed a few of the easier grades there, wondering the whole time why nobody was sharing this delightful place with us- we had it all to ourselves! It was pretty nice climbing, and I had fun. I honestly can't remember the climbs we did, but Tom might if I asked him. I was just glad to be out in the sunshine enjoying a bit of fresh air.

After Thompson's Sunrise we headed around the point to an area called Thompson's Point. This was not so nice as Thompson's Sunrise because the sun had been beating on the cliffs all day, resulting in some pretty quick climbing on my part to keep my hands a little less molten. The sweat was running off of me like I had just stepped out of the river sparkling so tantalizingly close down the slope. There was a point when the sun stopped being filtered by the trees and BAM! Suddenly it was like climbing in an oven. Tom and I figured out pretty quickly why nobody was there- this was definitely a place to climb in winter!

We finished up cooking ourselves and decided to go get some dinner at the local pub, which apparently becomes a nightclub after hours called "Slippery When Wet". Nice. The fish and chips was edible and Tom's chicken parmesan found an excellent home. We washed it down with some M&M's, and settled back into our campsite to watch the sun set on 2012. The mozzies were fierce and the fireworks were hidden behind a ridge down the river, but the startled peacocks crowing through the night was festive enough for us.

We woke up the next day and drove south towards Point Perpendicular, about 30 minutes down the road from our campsite. Point Perpendicular is a protected area, and is actually part of the ACT! I was so close to having visited another Australian state, but no! We were denied because it was so hot that there was a fire danger, and with only one way in and one way out the area was closed. Wah-wah. Instead of moping, we went to the beach and body surfed instead, then had an ice cream, some lunch, and then drove back to Sydney.

We called up our friend on the way and met for a nice afternoon session at Bluebell, where I took my first big lead fall! It sounds awful, but it was really good to get it out of the way and to learn to trust the rope. After that we bought a milkshake and had a swim, and then came home and unpacked all of our camping gear. Ah, a good trip.

Since then I've been working non-stop. My next days off are Friday and Saturday, and on Saturday night there's another night of climbing goodness planned at Bangor! Yaaaay! I'd better lap up all the fun I can before I start school again. Then I will look back on entries like this and think, one day, one day...