Ton Sai to Langkawi

Shadows swim across bare skin like fish darting across sand. I should be climbing. I can see my shoes sweating on the porch. They are waiting, anticipating limestone hung with stalactites, small toe-holds worn smooth by countless climbers. But I swing lazily in my hammock watching the light play across a man's shoulders, running the length of his belly as he flip-flops past on the path.

Two nights ago I met a tortoise here on this path, the high dome of her shell like a broken coconut under my headlamp. She hissed as I shone the light up under her shell, the glare of it blunt and offensive at this hour... entirely inappropriate. I touched the rough scarred plates of her back and she hissed again, so I said goodnight and continued to my bungalow.

After a weak in Ton Sai they tried to raise my rent. Peak season, they said. I got two more days out of them and then found someone to split a bungalow with. Coincidentally it's a guy I met in Colorado last year, hitching a ride with him from Vail to Boulder. We recognized each other on this same path, maybe in the same place I came across the turtle.

We've climbed a bit together, shaking each other awake at six to get to the crags before the crowds. Mike. And then there is Mindy, and Ian and Michelle, and Asha and Jimmy and Vicky, and... What was her name again? And the Germans, the Israeli, and everyone wants to climb.

I feel like a non-climber here. They are all so serious, planning their off days, waking up in the pre-dawn hours, practicing on the slack-line at night. (note to non-climbers... slack line is like a tight rope, but it is slack, and walking on it improves core strength and balance. I suck at it.)
Everyone wants to climb harder, harder, harder. I just want to hop on the east routes and feel the stone under my hands. I want to sail up the rocks. I want to lead, I decide, so I lead an easy 5.8 and top roped from then on out.

Hanging out.



Meet Mindy.

It is time to leave the comfort of Ton Sai. Time to go in Search of something... "Same, Same. But different," as they are fond of saying here. I meet Tino, and he is headed South. Thailand only allows people to stay 30 days at a time, and his time is up, and mine is getting close. They call it a Visa Run. You can get a bus to the border and back, but neither of us want to make a wasted trip, so we decide to visit Malaysia’s Langkawi Island.

Meet Tino, the dread-locked German fire dancer, and Al the sarcastic Brit. These are mytravelingg companions.

Cheaky Monkey Tino, John and Al

By the time we reach the Malaysian border we have added Rashid, the towering Aussie to our band of merrytravelerss. And it’s a good thing we did too, because he is the only one who has bothered looking into accommodations on the island. He brings us to Zakary’s Guest House (just 100 meters from the Reggae Bar!). The price seems reasonable, though we are having a hard time with exchange rates. How much is that in Baht? Which is what in Dollars US (or Aussie dollars or Pounds or Euros?) and there are about two dollars in a Pound, right? Oh well. Hopefully I’m not spending a fortune.
Besides, this place is a dream come true. A young woman checks us in. she calls herself Pete and we ask if this is the name she prefers. She responds, “Pete is better than Pussy!” We all agree. I quickly remove my long sleeve shirt, realizing this may be a Muslim country, but it is not a conservative Muslim country. She points us towards the beach and says to feel free to use the resort facilities across the street. “They have a Jacuzzi!” she says. Ahhh, and it is a cool-water Jacuzzi, very nice after a swim at the beach.

Al lives in the “Special Room.” A closet on a normal day, and the rest of us live in a dorm with four beds, sharing it with… “She.”
“She isn’t here right now, I think She went shopping, but She will be in your room as well.”

Every few days we are all moved from one room to another. For a while Tino and I live in the, “Knock Down Room.” When we got here it was a construction sight. Now it is luxuriously equipped with two beds and a fan (no electric outlets, no mosquito net, no bathroom). Guests come and go, and we continue to play Chinese Poker at the coffee table, or wander down to listen to live music at the Reggae Bar. The band is really quite good. She becomes Samira, and we meet Irish John, and so many others. Some people rent guides to take them Island hopping. Rashid, Al, Tino and I decide we can swim to the next island. A half-hour or so later we pull ourselves out on a sandy beach strewn with trash. We watch some fishermen throwing fish to a group of monkeys, and head back as the wind picks up. We drag ourselves out of the water feeling pretty proud of ourselves. We survived without drowning, or jelly-stings, or shark bites. The next day we rent scooters and go sight seeing. Note to Reader: The black sand beach of Langkawi island has sand as white as snow: just like every other beach on this island. We slid down waterfalls, cruised through the jungle on Malaysia’s amazing, well-kept roads, and stopped here and there to wonder where we are. Really we don’t do much. We rarely leave the guest house until the afternoon, and we can’t be bothered to pay for most of the touristy things. Tino and I are getting kicked out of our latest room. Rashid is gone. John as well. Al thinks he will head south. Tino and I look North again, and decide to check out Ko Lipe in S. Thailand. We join with a Canadian and a Swedish Brit and decide to leave tomarrow.

Eugene Ecovillages

cological living in Eugene is only a bike ride away! This morning, as the fog provided a welcome break from the rain, Jan Spencer of the Eugene Permaculture Guild delivered his Eugene Eco-Village Bike Tour to a dozen burgeoning bioneers.

We met at the UofO campus with CASL, the Center for the Advancement of Sustainable Living hosting the tour. The organization will soon transform a suburban house near campus into a model ecological house and educational project center to demonstrate appropriate urban living.

The pedestrian path paces the Willamette River and curves just west of Skinner Butte Park to reach Skinner City Farm. The garden plot was nurtured into a productive agricultural existence by the friendly neighbors at Cheshire Ave. and Lawrence St.


Why simply operate an ecologically-oriented house when you can bring together the whole block? The East Blair Housing Co-op offers gardens, a tree house for kids, community space, and room for about twenty residents. They are designing a solar water heater in conjunction with Solar Assist and EWEB that will pay for itself in energy savings over five years.

East Blair Housing Co-op, 940 W. 4th Ave., Eugene, OR www.geocities.com/eastblair/

Clearly a leader in the field of earthen and resource-conserving construction, Rob Bolman, founder of Maitreya Ecovillage, gave us a tour of their home site. At the strawbale meeting room, cob walls offset re-used paving stones outside. While inside, we ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the most fashionable linseed/clay/sand/straw floor in Eugene. The residents here have quite a selection of tender winter salad greens to choose from right outside their doorstep. And when guests come knocking, the cob guest house is the perfect hand-sculpted bedroom to show off some ecological hospitality.

Maitreya Ecovillage, 878 Almaden St., Eugene, OR, 541-344-7196 www.maitreyaecovillage.org

Jude, Toby, and everyone at the Dharmalaya Center have not only built a highly insulated meeting space to teach permaculture, energy use, and resource cycling, but have done it with professional style and earthy, exquisite beauty. The Cascadia Permaculture Institude and Cascadia Landscape Design offer their experience in ecological artisanship to course participants. From the curving path of the greywater system to the fine cob finish of their strawbale classroom, visiting Dharmalaya is an inspirational activity.

Dharmalaya Center, 356 Horn Lane, Eugene, OR, 541-514-4979 www.dharmalaya.org

So, now you have no excuse to delay in visiting these centers for ecological living. Use the contact information to check for upcoming events. See you there!

Brian Basor
pinyon [at] riseup.net

Ton Sai

My first Thai friend was a cat, a cat with a stumpy tail- related , I am sure, to the millions of other stumpy-tailed cats on this beach. I had just arrived after an all-night bus from Bangkok and an early morning boat ride from nearby Ao Nang. My first order of business was to figure out how to flush the toilet. The answer, I was sure, lay in the large black bucket turned upside down under the pipe-less sink. I righted the bucket to discover a spider the size of a soccer ball (ok, maybe a ping-pong ball). I stepped outside to contimplate my options, and this little calico waltzed right by me and jumped into my bed. I grabbed the cat and threw her into the bathroom, thinking she might enjoy a crunchy snack, but she looked at me like I was crazy and went slinking past me out the door, rubbing the entire length of her lean side against my led as whe wnt. So I followed her out, and sat watching the day grow lighter throught the trees. I thought about the large arachnid laying in wait in my bucket, and then I thought, "so what, this is Thailand." Several hours later I returned to the bathroom to find that my eight-legged invador had vacated the premesis. I never saw the cat agian, though I did see the spider several days later when it fell dead from my ceiling. How long do spiders live anyway? I could only guess that the thing died of fright after being pummeled by a thirty -pound moth that careened through my door that night, flinging itself suididally against everything in the bungalow. They do call these bungalows the "Nature Reserve," after all. A point which was driven home today when I descovered yet another creature ian my bucket. A rather irate newt (or salimander?) glared up at me when I returned from climbing today. When I set it free in the afternoon rain I descovered what I think are newt eggs in the bottom of the bucket. I am waiting to see if they hatch. The only other animals around here seem to be monkeys, and some long tailed thing that looks like a cross between a mongoose and a racoon (a moncoon?) Yesturday I recieved a shove from a monkey. It had plunked itself down right nest to me on a railing, and even leaned into me a bit. I couldn't resist, I reached over and gave its furry head a little scratch. That was NOT what it wanted, and it let me know.

I haven't really learned any Thai yet. My book is little help. I looked up the usual phrases, but right under, "how much does this cost?" is the phrase, "your notes are very flimsey." Now why would you need to know that, ever? I have learned a little Irish from my friend Roy. He doesn't seem to have nearly as much trouble understanding me, but we were just beginning to get over the language barrier by hiking climbing and kayaking together when he took off for the border, forcing me to look for new adventurouis companions.

This is a multi-cultural community. People from all over the world come to climb, and enjoy the sun and scenery. My favorite beach faces out towards a group of islands. the closer ones are rocky outcroppings with stalagtite skirts reaching out over the waves, and the farther islands are strung together by white sand beaches. I don't think I ever saw a stalagtite before I came here. Certainly nothing like these. I float on my back and catch the droplets that hurtle down from their tips.

Every night is a party here. They hand out fliers on the beach, "big party, lots of dancing." but the travelers are so wiped out after a day of adventure that they just sit, like china dolls on their woven mats, watching the fire spinners and fireworks. The other night a bucket full of fireworks tipped over sending the rockets straight into our faces. We rolled out of our seats covering our heads. Miraculously, noone was hurt.

I like the nighttime, after the mosquitos have given up their frantic feeding. I like the fishernen's lights in the distance, and I like the hurd of long-tail boats nosing at the beach, looking like cattle at the edge of the field, the water whispering at their sides, their engines dead for the night. I like the fire and the regae music, and the stars overhead. I like slipping up the hill to Bee's "Real coffee," stand for a yogurt shake, and Bee is there singing along to Nora Jones. I've grown used to this place, and I can't decide where to go next. Bee looks over my sholder as I flip through thte Lonely Planet. I ask about one place afer another, and every time his answer is the same. "Too busy." I'll stay a few days more. Bee says, "two days, two weaks." That is how it is here. People come for a day, stay for a year.

An Alaskan Photo Essay

Valisa Higman

This is Seldovia, home to around 300 people, and lots of black dogs. Seriously, if you move to Seldovia you have to get a black dog. That way whenever your dog gets into someone's trash, chases someone's car, or kills someone's duck you can say... "wasn't my black dog."

Seldovia is beautiful. It's got ocean, mountains and trees, and lots of nice people.
For the last month I have been staying with my mom in her cute little house on the hill with a beautiful view out over Katchemak Bay.

I have become reaquointed with the ocean, and the volcanoes of my home. The sea air seems to have healed my lungs. My throat feels better. I feel better

Meet Panda: another black dog

She has the distinction of being the second dog to eat my Chaco sandals, but tried to one-up Abby by eating the underarm of my coat as well. She is also an adorable, loveable puppy, and was my near-constant companion during my stay.

I got to Seldovia in time to see the alpine tundra change color. This ridge is just a short hike from my mom's house.

I was also here for the first snow.

This is my dad's place- Schooner Beach...

Purchased in my infant years, this was my childhood stomping ground, a place of memories: climbing trees, playing cowboys and indians, looking under rocks for tidal critters ("dinosaur bugs", scary worms, red crabs, and "squigs"- our favorate little wiggly eel-fish).
This is a beach with a history. Not just a Higman history, but a history of native fish-camps, canories with chinese workers who drank from ceramic jugs and threw glass opium vials into the surf. After big tides and a lot of rain I went beach coming and was rewarded with a small brown glass bottle left over from the days when people just threw their trash in the ocean.


And this is me with my dad...













Now, what you've all been waiting for...

This is the little piece of heaven that I now own.
4.3 acres on Mine Loop Road, in a neighborhood known as "hippy hallow."


Sun hits this hillside, even this time of year.

















There is plenty of flat land on the lot, nice healthy trees, and a great view of the river valley

My land from the air

Stay tuned for news from Thailand!!!