Seeking Tuff Roots

2007-02-18T22:24:00.000-08:00

Chiang Mai, Again:

With only 15 more days in Thailand, I rushed back to my Northern haven to do all the little things I had neglected to do when it felt like I had all the time in the world. It also worked out that I met up with a few old friends.

Alice and I were finally able to spend some time together after she quit her job. It was fun to go shopping with a GIRL! We also ran into Scott and Shannon one night on our way to the market. It was like an Emergency Communities reunion.

And then I had a little Lewis and Clark reunion with Bret and Kristin

They are both amazing artists, so it was easy to convince them to take a batik class with me just outside of the city.

I also made new friends, including an adventurous French cyclist. We rented a motorbike for a day and did our own little Hill Tribe tour, visiting several villages north of Chiang Mai

Though the villages were remote and described in guidebooks as "traditional," or "primitive," in some ways they are extremely advanced. I loved seeing bamboo and thatch huts with their own solar panels.

I also looked up my friend Joshua, who I met on my trip to Laos, and went to visit him on an organic, permaculture farm near the village of Mae Jo, north of Chiang Mai.

And guess who was staying at the farm next door: Alice!

Josh and a handful of others are interns at
Pun Pun Farm, learning how to build with local, easily accessible materials. They are helping in the early stages of a yoga center, using adobe and cob to create a work of art.

I had a great time cooking in their open kitchen, and I was even able to get my hands dirty on my last day there.

But then it was time for me to leave Chiang Mai. I had one more place to see before getting down to Bangkok to fly home. I cried when I left. When my bus broke down just south of the city, I thought maybe the universe was conspiring to keep me in Chiang Mai, but really it was just making my trip a little easier. I was able to sleep really well in the broken down bus, and the delay put me in Ayuthaya at a more reasonable hour.

Ayuthaya. My main objective was to visit Wat Mahathat, with the buddha head in the tree. I was a little embarrased by my obsessive desire to see this tourist icon, but the head was fantastic, and the tree glorious. I loved that the temples of Ayuthaya were in ruins, that you could see layers of building and rebuilding, and then the simple picking up of pieces and letting them be what they were: broaken buddhas, leaning stupas and crumbling pagodas. I liked the stacked-stone look of the multitude of buddhas: torsos balanced on crossed legs, and small stones set on top like heads.

Wat Mahathat is not the only temple in Ayuthaya. The former Capital is packed with spectacular ruins.

2007-02-03T01:48:00.000-08:00

LAOS

LAO looks best in capitols, like an abbreviation.

It looks best in army green and tangerine orange.

Green jungles march down limestone cliffs. Men in green uniforms sit stiff-backed on motorcycles. The guards on my bus sling green machine guns over their shoulders, and green bomb casings decorate a bridge.

But the green is offset by a dazzling orange.

Mountains of tangerines perfume the market and come with breakfast with peel split to make a blossom.

Monks wear tangerine robes and stop to practice their English, "Hello, where you from?"

And as the sun sinks low over the mountain it blazes tangerine through the haze before spilling orange juice across the sky.

VANG VIENG

My first destination in Laos, and it was magnificent, but the photos tell it better than words.

I even tried the famous tubing trip down the river. It was freezing cold, but had great views.

Never let anyone tell you there is no local bus. Sometimes you have to get a little creative, but you never have to resort to air-conditioned giant VIP buses or mini-vans.

And it is always worth the effort, even if it is just for the stories you have to tell and the funny things you see.

LUANG PRABANG

Well worth the long trip through the mountains.

There was a lot to see in town, but everyone told me I had to check out the waterfall (when you go to Luang Prabang, go to the waterfall, not the cave). So I found some friends, split tuk-tuk fare, and went to the waterfall about 35 km outside of town...

It wasn't just one waterfall, as I walked up the river I went past cascade after cascade of cool blue water, and then the grand finale: a towering three tier waterfall that plunges down through the jungle. To top it all off there were three endangered Moon Bears and a Tiger that had been rescued from illegal animal traders, and brought to this amazing park to help teach people about the damage this trade causes.

PHONSAVAN

Then I was off to Ponsavan and its famous "Plain of Jars" I toured three archaeological sites with these mysterious jars. It isn't clear yet if they were used for food storage, burials, whisky or what, but further exploration is halted while teams continue to sweep the area trying to clear it of UXO (unexploded ordinance).

FROM USA: BOMB

It would be hard to miss the military history of this area. Every guesthouse and restaurant in town has a display of military artifacts: bomb casings from the infamous cluster bombs, hand grenades, land mines, anti-aircraft guns, helmets, and so on.

My guide at the Plain of Jars would continually apologize to me as he pointed out craters and blasted out caves with signs that said "American Bomb Craters 1960-1970."

I think, HE'S sorry. I'm sorry. It blows me away (ha-ha, no pun intended) that the Laos seem to love Americans. They talk about wanting to visit, telling me about friends who live there, and they wear US Army hats, and smile when they talk about the rain of bombs that brutalized their northern regions.

Feeling the burden of guilt, I go into MAG headquarters and read about ongoing efforts to make Lao safe by disposing of UXO. I donate a few bucks and wish I could rewind and watch those bombs rise up out of the soil into the aircraft, back to the base, all the way to the point before they were invented. Does anyone know if we continue to use cluster bombs?

Chiang Mai and Pai

2007-01-15T00:44:00.000-08:00

CHIANG MAI

Finally, we have decided to get some culture.

Here a Wat, there a Wat, Everywhere a Wat

This became our Chiang Mai theme song as we wandered from temple to temple. At first it was overwhelming: all the gold and glitter, but soon I started to appreciate the delicate details and the way they came together into something truly magnificent.

Still, I must admit that I was more drawn to the ancient brick stuppas and plain terra-cotta colored gaits.

It wasn't all temples for us in Chiang Mai. We also rented a scooter and checked out the surrounding area.

We found several popular Thai get-aways, including a nice little waterfall with a view of the city below, and a crowded hot-spring where Thais came to relax and unwind.

They don't seem to mind the crowds, though Tino and I

were shocked and a little uncomfortable in the throng. We tried doing as the Thais did, and soaked our feet in the hot river that flowed through the park. We stopped short of buying expensive eggs in little baskets to boil in one of the pools.

PAI

Nestled in the hills, Pai is colder then Chiang Mai, though only at night when the river seems to suck the heat right out of the ground leaving behind a frosty dampness that penetrates to your bones.

Fortunately I just bought a great little down sleeping bag in Bangkok. I LOVE when I think ahead. I don't think I could have survived curled up in my sheet and hammock like I did at the Rainbow Gathering.

Here is our temporary home...

It's nice to get out of the city.

WATERFALLS

Sitting by the waterfall I wonder, does the water want to fall? I watch the way it eddies and folds back on itself before tumbling over the precipice. It clings to the slimy rock, pushing itself back up hill before plunging headlong into the
pool below.

Perhaps it is dare-devil water, out for a cheap thrill, experiencing last minute doubts before letting go with a, "Woo Hoo!!!"

It seems joyful where it comes to rest, spitting out frothy bubbles and showing off its smooth ripples, flirting with the sunlight.

Yes, I think it is dare-devil water. It's cliff-jumping, thrill-seeking, giggling, screaming, fun-loving liquid, and that is why we admire it.

An Unlikely Trekking Guide

People come to Pai for the trekking, but we weren't going to be in town for very long, and we were a bit too cheap (thrifty?) to hire a guide.

It was our first morning, and we set out, guide-less, in search of a waterfall marked on our map with a short red line and a vague arrow. Somewhere it said, "7km hike." We decided it must be 7km round trip due to how short the red line was. Oops.

It was soon obvious that our map was misleading, so we started chatting to the random hikers we met on the trail. Most of their information was as confusing as the map, but we decided there must be more than one waterfall, and stubbornly kept our sights on the legendary three-tier waterfall that was said to lay on a trail that would veer up and away from the river. We finally met up with an elderly couple hiking with a young Thai girl. We thought she must know the route, but unfortunately she too was unfamiliar with the area. As we were chatting with them , we saw a trail that climbed steeply away from the river on our left, and Tino and I decided to give it a go, though the others thought it would be easier to stick to the river.

As we started to climb I noticed that the couple's little poodle-dog had attached itself to my leg. I called down to them, but they yelled back that it wasn't their dog, it had just picked them up when they walked through the village. Fair enough, I thought. We would just hope it followed us back so it would get home safely.

By the time we reached the waterfall, which was spectacular, the dog was a permanent fixture at our side. It was scared of the other group of hikers lounging pool-side, and it wouldn't go more than two feet from us as we sat and ate our meager lunch. We slipped it a few crackers, thinking it must be very hungry. After eating, Tino and I decided to climb up the side of the waterfall to get a good look at the thing. We cheerily splashed across the pool and climbed barefoot up the steep side. After reaching the top of the second tier we turned around to see the silly little dog scrambling up the first tier. It was an easy climb if you used two hands and had reversible thumbs and all that, but for a tiny little dog... I slid back down to where he perched precariously on a ledge, and climbed down past him. He didn't wait for me to turn around and give him a hand, instead he started down after me, slipping and scratching at the cliff. I caught him as he started to fall and tucked him under my arm for the rest of the trip down. He received a hero's welcome from the other hikers, who laughed in wonder at the cheeky little fellow.

Our little guide remained loyal to us the whole way back. He hated the river crossings, which were frequent, and often showed us easier ways to navigate down-stream. As we reached the dirt road that lead back to the village we began to wonder if he would show us where he lived, or if he was going to follow us all the way to our bungalows. We needn't have worried. As we rounded a bend our companion broke into a run and threw himself at the feet of two bigger versions of himself (presumably Mom and Dad). We quietly slipped away, laughing as we imagined the stories he was telling them about his adventure in the jungle.

Motorcycle Madness

We also rented a souped-up scooter for a few days, and toured the winding roads and picturesque villages around Pai.

This is Tino with Ruby Sue, our trusty steed.

And yes, there were more wats.

Some people had more glamorous rides.

And Back Again

All too soon we returned to the city, But Chiang Mai still had some surprises for us.

Which included an absolutely spectacular climbing area. Reunited with old friend Mindy, Tino and I set out for a days climbing, and met new friend John who ended up climbing with Tino and I all day.

Then it was time to say goodbye to Tino. He was heading back to Germany, and I was setting out for new adventures in Lao.

From Rainbow to Bangkok and all points between

2007-01-09T01:25:00.000-08:00

Wish I could keep you more up to date, but Thailand is experiencing Internet difficulties. Apparently there was an earthquake in Taiwan and several trans-Pacific Internet cables were damaged. This means that we get slow, unreliable Internet. This is not such a big deal with e-mail, but uploading pictures (or even logging in to Blogger) is really hard.

International Rainbow Gathering
Ranong Provence (close to Au Chaak Beach)

The location was magnificent, a private beach just a short walk from a supply road. We carved out a space for our tent in the jungle behind the beach, and quickly found ways to make ourselves useful. We met many lovely people, and saw much beauty in both nature and humanity.

CONTROVERSY

But there was also tension. We were on private land, and locals (often Muslim) walked the beach daily. I don't know if this was always a popular Thai holiday destination, or if they came to gawk at scantily clad hippies, but there was a fairly steady stream of Thais moving in our midst.

Still, some felt that "Rainbow" existed without any borders, so we should not have to be careful of Thai customs or sensitivities. Nudity became a talking point in our daily circles. We had been asked (or told) to put on our clothes, or there would be trouble. Elders asked that the family please be RESPECTFUL of local feelings, and show our GRATITUDE to our landlord by causing as little trouble as possible. Sometimes their pleas had a distinctly Rainbow edge to them, "You can't disrespect this place because it's magic!!!" Still there was daily shedding of clothing, speeches about personal freedom, "This is Rainbow, not Thailand!" and bad feelings sprouted in our midst.

The idea of community or "family" that is at the center of my Rainbow experience seems to be such a pure and simple idea, but it is so hard to achieve in an environment where people's egos are constantly battling. I don't know if it was just a very strong willed group of people: international travelers off the beaten path, or if this same problem arises in any isolated community. Those of you who worked with me in New Orleans may recall the men in skirts fiasco of the first weeks of our kitchen.

The nudity issue came to a head on the day of our full moon celebration. After a morning of silence we had gathered for lunch, and in midst of meditation and harmonious silence, a group of people began shedding their clothing.

I could find nothing noble in their baring of skin. This was not a brave revolution against an oppressive tyrant. This was the man in a trench coat leaping out of the woods to expose himself to shocked girls. This was disturbing, and disrespectful. A woman opened her umbrella and held it up between the children and a naked man, and he jumped around her, trying to make the children see him. The circle went wild with objections and support. It was a long time before we ate.

HARMONY

Still, there was so much that was so right about being there. Tino and I stayed for a week, bolstered by daily visits to the Thai restaurant a quarter mile down the beach with our two Belgian friends. We could escape the circus and sip iced coffee, and return with bags of vegetables on our backs. Supply was my favorite job, especially when the tide was high, and most Rainbows didn't want to pick their way through the boulders.

I am proud to say that we managed to get both to and from the Rainbow gathering without spending a Baht. We used our expert hitch hiking skills. The only notable ride on this journey was our last ride. He took us almost the whole way back. First we climbed into the back of his truck, but soon regretted it as he sped madly down the highway. We only hoped that he wanted to live as much as we did. After some time he stopped at a Buddhist shrine, where he greeted the toothless monk, and then prayed and lit incense. Tino and I joked that this was a promising sign. Maybe we would reach Ranong safely. When he finished he cleaned out the cab of his truck and asked us to get inside. We gratefully accepted. We stopped again for a quick tour of a fish farm (don't know why) and then proceeded (at about 160km/hr) into Ranong. He brought us to the front of our hotel, and as he pulled over to let us out, the whole left side of the truck dropped down as if we had driven abruptly into a huge hole. We got out and saw that the wheel had come off entirely. Thank you Buddha, that could have happened on the highway, but instead it happened in the most harmless way possible. The driver looked at it and laughed. Just laughed! As if this was no big deal...

BANGKOK BOUND

We left Ranong the same way we arrived. We stood by the highway, our right arms stretched out with palms faced down, and as the traffic sped by we appealed to them with little pleading flicks of our wrists. After a short time a little blue Mini pulled over, and we somehow crammed ourselves and our backpacks in with the jolly driver and his huge cooler of fish. At a military road block we learned he was a soldier. After we were waved through he pulled his ID out to show us. He pointed to himself and said, "Me big, they small," indicating the soldiers at their roadside stations. I looked around the cramped, molded interior of his auto and thought, "big man, small car."

Our big soldier drove us all the way to Chumphon, which was our goal for the day, and we were quickly lost in the mire of the city, so we found a room for the night. We woke to rain. We sat in a cafe watching Thais battle the downpour on motorbikes, brandishing colorful umbrellas. This was not good hitch hiking weather. We bought third class train tickets for that night, and after getting on the wrong train at the right time (and being insistently escorted off) we finally boarded the right train at a decidedly late time, and started our overnight journey to Bangkok.

It was quite possibly the worst train ride I have ever been on. Our reserved seats were crowded with a Thai family, which quickly vacated our seats, but they simply moved to the floor under our feet. In Thai culture it is very impolite to point at people with your feet, but Tino and I quickly decided that we were exempt from any criticism in this case. We tried to find some way to make out hard bench seat comfortable, and slept fitfully through the long night.

We arrived in Bangkok a few short days after leaving the gathering, and what a different world it was! Modern buildings, high speed trains, busy markets: Bangkok was along cry from the jungles and beaches of Au Chaak.

Phang Nga, Ranong, Ko Chang

2006-12-26T03:59:00.000-08:00

PHANG NGA

After wandering endlessly through thewalkways of Ko Panyi, we were excited to do some forest
hiking.

Phang Nga is surrounded by forest parks, caves, and temples. We found ourselves off the beaten path, often having to flag down passing trucks to ask directions or hitch rides to remote hiking trails.

Our walks took us through rubber plantations, vaulted caves, a dragons throat, and lush green jungle. We even took a trip to the Buddhist hell realms.

HITCHHIKING
"To stand on a road and try to flag every vehicle that passes by is, to the Thais, something only an uneducated village dweller would do." -Lonely Planet

It had been in the back of our minds for a long time. We just needed a little encouragement, and after hitching several wonderful rides from the always friendly Thais while trying to get to remote areas around Phand Nga, Tino and I decided we had to give it a go.

We set our sights on Ranong, almost 300 km to the north, and set out in the morning with our packs and newly purchased tent. Once we got over the embarrassment of being laughed at my the confused Thais, we really enjoyed the experience, which included rides in a huge SUV, the back of a closed in box truck, and in the back seat of a car piloted by two giggling old men who didn't stop talking to each other and laughing the entire two hours we spent with them. We were hooked... there was no better way to travel.

Ranong: cheap food, a funky little place called the TV Bar, where you don't watch TV, you sit on them, and the loudest guesthouse ever

Ko Chang for Christmas

We spent a few nights in Ranong, and then took a boat to a nearby island: Ko Chang

It was a quiet get-away, perfect for arelaxed Christmas. Highlights included good food, a nice bungalow, and volleyball every night with an odd assortment of Thais, ex-pats and travelers.

Written on Ko Chang:
"The lights flicker, orange and gold and fragile as spider webs. At night they sputter before they die, plunging us into darkness and then fishing us out again, over and over. Until finally, the bungalows go black, and I crawl across the floor for my headlamp. I like how sparingly they use the generator. I don't miss its guttural rumbling in the night. Instead I am lulled to sleep by waves singing against the sand, and wind whispering in the trees.

We have a western toilet for Christmas... the first I've seen in a long while, but looking at it from the doorway I think, 'I haven't even missed you.' The freedom of not wanting, not needing, that familiar throne... these are the things you let go of when you leave home."

Phuket, Ko Panyi

2006-12-15T02:31:00.000-08:00

Phuket City surprised us. We got there on the 8th, thinking it was the 11th. Oops. We stayed for a few nights and tried to decide, "What next?" incidentally, we discovered that Phuket has a nice art scene, and really interesting architecture. We took arty photos, ate cheap food, and browsed in galleries around town.

But that gets boring, and we move on, deciding on a cultural experience. We travel north to Phang-nga and hop a longtail boat out to Ko Panyi, a Muslim stilt village perched in the middle of a bay. Here are my thoughts:

Where did these teeth come from... They push my lips apart as if my mouth is too small. Its embarrassing- they are show-offs, clowns, performers. Maybe they belong to a braver woman, someone who craves attention. Why won't they be more modest? I can't even play at being mysterious, not with these white gossips popping out of their hiding holes and spreading this silly grin across my face. It would be one thing to chose to be an open book, but it's quite another to have your teeth decide for you. "We want to be seen!" they sing. "I want to disappear!" I cry.

But it is hard for me to do that here. Even if I taped my mouth shut, silenced my giggling teeth. My hair waves its golden flag above my head in silent solidarity with my muted teeth. "I am only passing through," it signals. "I came here, and I will leave here, and you will stay."

I want these people to invite me into their lives, but why would they? To them I am a drop in the sea of pale faces that get herded through the town.

Tino and I sit reading, watching the tours come and go. How desperately we want to be different! We aren't on a tour. We are staying here, overnight, over TWO nights! We only paid 190 Bhat to get here all the way from Phuket. How much did YOU pay? No we aren't going to James Bond Island!

The feeling of superiority, the self-indulgent smirk slips from my grasp. We aren't any better. What more do I know about the lives in this village than I knew within hours of getting off the boat?

Communication is difficult. It is almost impossible to negotiate for a room, to buy a cold bottle of water, to figure out who you need to know to get to wherever you should go.

But the sunset pours golden light over the rock finger that anchors Ko Panyi to planet Earth, and we see rain clouds speeding towards us along the mangrove channel, turning distant limestone cliffs into watercolor paintings, we hold glowing phosflorescents in our hands on a dark night in the company of Orion with his jeweled belt and sturdy bow, A little girl smiles and giggles as we pass, the kittens follow us through a maze of pathways, we see crabs with claws like medieval swords and fish that can walk on land with flippers like feet...

No Dogs allowed, fish everywhere, and so many birds in cages...
This is heaven for cats!

Two days later I am back in Phang-nga looking forward to hiking in the parks in the area, and maybe doing some climbing if I can find a place to rent a rope.

Ko Lipe

2006-12-09T21:30:00.001-08:00

I found my island paradise.

Tino and I went to Lipe with only US$200. We thought we could stay for 4 days if we ate only Phad Thai or fried rice and toast for breakfast. No shakes, no fish, no beer.

We immediately fell in love with the island

As nice as our bungalow was, we decided to move out after two nights.

And we went camping instead.

We had a pretty private spot, and other than the sand flies, which come right through our mosquito net, it was the best accomodation so far.

The first night we woke up to watch the moon set over the Indian Ocean.

We weren't far from an isolated little bar where we could get fresh water piped in from a waterfall. Two Germans ran the bar, and invited us (for 130Bhat each) to dinner one night. We had baracuda, and other fresh fish cought right there off the island.

We could wake up in the mornig and snorkel right there in front of our camp. Who needs a shower and a bed! We slept on the sand, made peace with the ants and the hermit crabs, and learned every sound the jungle birds could make.

We made good friends on the island. The dogs and cats were always begging for love.

I have never seen colors like these. The sky, the water, the jungle... everything was saturated with color. It was so intense it almost seemed painted.

Ko Lipe is relatively new on the tourist scene, and the village remains as... a village.

There is humor in the simplicity...

As well as beauty.

And you don't get the sense that things are put there for the tourists. Things just exist as they are.

We Left a few days ago with only 40Bhat left. We made it for 6 days, and enjoyed our share of shakes and seafood dinners. After one night in Satun we headed north to Phuket.

Ton Sai to Langkawi

2006-11-30T23:12:00.000-08:00

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 MalaysiaÂs 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 itÂs 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 ZakaryÂs 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 IÂm 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, ÂPete is better than Pussy!Â 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. ÂThey have a Jacuzzi!Â she says. Ahhh, and it is a cool-water Jacuzzi, very nice after a swim at the beach.

Al lives in the ÂSpecial Room.Â A closet on a normal day, and the rest of us live in a dorm with four beds, sharing it withÂ ÂShe.Â
ÂShe isnÂt here right now, I think She went shopping, but She will be in your room as well.Â

Every few days we are all moved from one room to another. For a while Tino and I live in the, ÂKnock Down Room.Â 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 MalaysiaÂs amazing, well-kept roads, and stopped here and there to wonder where we are. Really we donÂt do much. We rarely leave the guest house until the afternoon, and we canÂt 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

2006-11-26T02:32:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-15T04:09:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-03T13:42:00.000-08:00

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!!!

Alone

2006-09-22T11:34:00.000-07:00

This is a message from the breakaway cell.

“Dark Fire sets out on her own, armed only with monkey-toe grip and an abnormally small right eye-socket.”

Ah, the joy of going to bed without taking my contacts out, of opening my eyes in the morning and seeing the world with all its edges and corners. No more mandatory yearly eye exams or jumbo-sized bottles of saline solution. My backpack already feels lighter.

So I've set out on my own.

I fly into Anchorage Monday night, and in a month or so I will be on my way to Thailand.

Excited stuff happening over there, with the military coup and all. My brother's colleague just sent us photos of his son sitting on a tank in Bangkok. Uh, there are flowers on the tank, and everyone is just smiling and hanging out. It doesn't look too dangerous, so don't worry. Besides, military dictators just make things more exciting.

It's strange being out here on my own, but I'm feeling more centered and grounded than I have in a long time. It's good to be going home, and I'll be working up there and doing art and hanging out with mom and dad.

Maybe I'll finally get out kayaking, or play a little volleyball or something. I'm meeting up with a disaster-zone pal in Anchorage and we will travel together for a while. I am showing him the real Alaska, off the highway system. I'll take him hiking up in the alpine tundra and stuff. Should be fun. There is nothing I like more than showing people the amazing place where I grew up.

Eugene bound

2006-09-19T09:17:00.000-07:00

Ok, this is the newest edition in the lives of the tuff roots ‘n co. Nathan, Jesika and Brian are inEugene. We have "officially" moved here. There are levels of moving somewhere of course. Although we all enthusiastically assert that we live in Eugene, we are still houseless.
Last night we stayed at Mark and Ben's house (Mark used to be Valisa's boyfriend). We played amulti-level rendition of rochambeau (that is spelled correctly by the way) to decide who would sleepon the floor. Mark and Ben expressed an almost melodramatic concern that we would all get fleas. We agreed that this would be fine, as it would motivate us to find a place to live even sooner.

Nathan got the couch while Brian got stuck on the flea-ridden floor. The dogs only licked him acouple of times, while Nathan ended up getting stuck between the pillows. Jesika didn't get fleas.

This morning we started thinking about where to live. We scouted out all sorts of places, one withtwo kitchens and four bedrooms. We're trying to decide how many rooms we need. When you visit -we don't want you to have to sleep in the entry way - between the kitchen and the back door. We'llprobably have dogs, and we don't want them to step on you and suck your ear wax.

We want a place that costs less than $12,000 / mo for 4 bedrooms. There are certain people we aretrying to entice to live with us in Eugene, so we're being almost unreasonably picky. After all, weare choosing the location of your next move / vacation -- and we are taking this responsibility veryseriously.

In the truck, Nathan generally drives, Brian navigates, and Jes sits in the middle and tries to carry oninteresting conversation. Typically the conversation spins to sex, politics, and religion. Generally thatall comes into play when we talk about our personal relationships. But trying to tell you about thatwould be a short novel.

In the meantime, we think of big dreams about discovering our passions together, and how to makeour visions come true in a practical way. We have decided against teaching a fairie cosmic dolphindance worship workshop. In this time of revolution, we don't have the proper equipment to distill thenecessary essential oils and flower essences required for luring dolphin fairies to Eugene. In themean time we are filling out rental applications - i.e. brushing up on our creative writing skills. Ifyou happen to receive any phone calls from rental management agencies, and they ask if we make 3grand a month, please say "yes". But let's get back to the original topic of this writing.

On Friday, Valisa got eye surgery. The doctor says she has little eye sockets. We like to call it,"lovely almond eyes". Now she has 20/20 vision. She is going to Alaska for a month to visit herparents, and then she is going to Thailand for 3 ½ months. We're pretty sure she is going to move inwith us after that.

Benja went with Valisa to Seattle to make sure she had support in case she went blind or anything. After she is healed he will pick up the truck in Colorado, and then "officially" move in with us. Iguess we're somewhat excited for his return. Just kidding, Benja.
We plan to keep you all updated as we settle into our rental house, get jobs, and... in the very nearfuture, pin down the property we intend to buy. Although, for the last week or so most of our energyhas been directed towards finding jobs and a temporary place to live, we are determined not to losemomentum in our quest for the perfect community land. We hope that you will not lose interesteither. We are dedicated to maintaining our entertaining lives - or at least presenting them in anentertaining way - so that ya'll will still love us, even when we become practical, grounded landowners. Please keep checking up on us.

We love you,

Brian, Nathan, Jes (Benja and Valisa at large)

A spontanious community

2006-09-08T18:18:00.000-07:00

SELDOVIA
reflections, from Dark Fire

When I think of community I think of home... I think of Seldovia, Alaska with its cute little boardwalks, its piles of rusting cars (I might need them later!), its flowering cliffs and soggy winters. I think of the mish-mash of people who wound up there by fate or circumstance, and somehow managed to eek out an existance between the mountains and the sea. My mom recently reminded me that we don't have to drop smack-dab in the middle of a progressive, left-leaning community. People learn to tollerate, and even appreciate eachother when living in spontaneous, mixed communities. After reading her letter, and remembering the better points of growing up in a town with lots of oppinions, my eyes and heart were much more open to the towns that lay farther out from our cultural meccas. Here is her letter. I thought you all would enjoy it:

Just wanted to add a few thoughts. Yes, we were also wanderers in search of a home. For us, Seldovia was the great find. A real community. There were a bunch of people about our age from other parts of the country that arrived with us in '76 or '77. We became a sub community in the larger community. A great puzzlement to the old timers.

Think about the community that you grew up in. The larger community, and the community of friends who became our family here. The Chartiers, Corwins, Dillys, Walt and Sachiko, Dick, Jack and Winn, Patty Hanson and the Browns, John and Vivian, Kim and Leny, and others who came and went. I felt like I had lots of co-parents. Especially Lynn & Kirby, Jennifer, Winn, Alix & Dave, Donna Knowles, Sally Smith, Mike Efta, Jim Huff, Ken Streeter, even Susan Mumma. Really, the whole community. I am profoundly grateful to this place for providing space for me to grow up, and for helping us to raise strong, independant children. (you know, I was 23 when we moved here. I had lots of growing up to do.)

One of the greatest things for me (I grew up in a big city, remember) was to live in a community where everyone knows one another, where I brush shoulders at the post office and the grocery store with people from the entire social structure. There is no way for any sub group to truely isolate itself from the other groups. Hippies grow to know and love (or at least tolerate) the red necks. Not that we all get along all the time, but we all want what's best for our kids. Even Honeybee who sat next to me at the counter in the Tide Pool and extolled the warm and wonderful feeling of seeing "all of our kids drinking together in the bar...it was soo sweet to see them all there". Then, she realized who she was talking to and assured me that nobody was drinking too much. I know what she's talking about. It is fun to see the kids grown up. I have a lingering concern about excessive alcohol consumption that she understands.

I'm rambling. Just wanting to talk about communities. We also sought to raise our own food, but were not farmers. I'm getting better at it. The Chartiers and Dilly's actually succeeded in raising or hunting most of their food. A huge job. I always admired that.

And all of those good, strong intentions don't protect from the fact that some people will try the life out and find they don't like it......they want more time for recreation than is possible in a subsistance situation, or they want a more varied social setting, or they get a religion that doesn't fit, or relationships fall apart, or they get sick or they want something else. Life happens and, as you well know, things change suddenly. Stay flexible.

I have no doubts that you can pull this off. Just like at the kitchen, you'll get things going, and have to adjust to realities as they arise. And you will be able to. Remember that you have lots of strong experience with "community". Remember your core values. Compromise when you can, and don't forget who you are.

Remember we love you.

Mom
(dede higman)

This is my dad's shop on Seldovia bay

The longest road trip ever

2006-09-01T02:04:00.000-07:00

Our road trip

We should decide soon on a place to live - let's not forget where we've been so far. Click on the map to check out the stops along our trip!

This is the longest road trip I've ever experienced. We've been driving hundreds of miles past some of the most interesting countyside in the west. The whole time, searching for a place to call home. With the end of our trip in mid-September drawing near, I am beginning to think about where I want to be. What cities had the best progressive communities and job options for my friends? What public lands offer the best job options for me? Where can we most easily grow our own vegetables?

Well, well, well... three weeks on the road and what have we learned, class? That I don't want to pay for gas ever again in my life? That you can't keep salad mix for three days in an ice chest? That realtors and mortgage firms keep asking for a mailing address?

Wait just a second. We were supposed to be deciding on *the Best* place to found a locally-based, sustainable, rural farm community educational center HOME. So let's review what we've learned. First of all, we have clarified our vision for both the property and the geographical area that we seek.

We are looking for property that is:
- within an hour's drive of a major city or progressive town
- sunny, flat, and fertile enough for growing food
- available to build one or more structures, legally and practically
- large enough that 5 to 15 residents don't feel crowded when there are 10 to 20 visitors (which translates to roughly 5 acres minimum, preferably 10 or more)
- at least partially forested
- hopefully close to a lake or stream
- ideally surrounded by friendly neighbors
- beautiful

located in a geographical area that is:
- sunny and warm enough days of the year to grow food
- rainy enough to replenish the aquifers
- within 1 hours commute to job opportunities
- within 1 hours drive to a progressive city or town
- relatively affordable to purchase acreage (less than $40,000 per acre...hmm...preferably much less)

So, how does that match up to what we've found so far?

Here is the average precipitation for some of the places we've visited (and Alaska for kicks) Click on the chart to see it full size.

Denver, Missoula, and Spokane have less than 20 inches of precipitation per year. Any farm or garden there would be highly dependant on irrigation. Quillayute on the Olympic Peninsula of Washington gets over 100 inches per year!

Here are the average minimum temperatures for the same cities. Click on the chart to see it full size.

Notice that Quillayute, Seattle, Portland, and Eugene frost only mildly, whereas Denver, Missoula, and Spokane are far enough inland to frost heavily. Homer, AK is on the Pacific Coast, but far enough north to drop down to and average of 15F.

What about jobs and land prices?

Missoula has a growing job market, and there are quite a few progressive organizations in and around town. It's surrounded by wilderness and farms. Quite a few of the residents said that more and more people are moving in to the area around Darby and Hamilton, south of Missoula, in the Bitterroot Valley. Land prices are rising accordingly. Currently, valley bottom land with water access, without improvements is $15,000-30,000 per acre. Don't forget - no water rights, no food.

Water is also a precious commodity in Spokane. Surrounded by wheat fields, the few mountainous valleys would be good settings for our center. Its progressive community is growing as well. Land is the least expensive that we've seen on the trip. There are a few areas where you can find property matching our search criteria at $10,000 per acre.

Bellingham, on the west coast, is powered economically by Seattle to the south and Vancouver to the north. The list of progressive organizations is there is staggering. We found eco-realtors at http://www.greenworksrealty.com to talk to about sustainable building, affordable cohousing, and other environmentally and socially conscious development. Whatcom county is willing to work with people like us to approve site plans. They even like composting toilets! Land prices are higher than any place we've seen, but they drop off slightly with increasing distance from town to the east, hovering around $15,000-$30,000 per acre.

The Olympic Peninsula, green and wet, is quite large compared to the population of its small cities on its northeastern edge. The top of the entire watershed is protected inside the Olympic National Park. It is more difficult to find jobs in Port Townsend and Port Angeles compared to a larger city, though. People come to the peninsula for recreation - hiking, camping, fishing, Sunday driving - so many jobs would drop off in winter. Organic farms and really nice down-to-earth people are as ubiquitous as the breathtaking landscape. Land is affordable in some locations, really expensive in others at $5,000-40,000 per acre.

The Eugene area, including Corvallis to the north and Cottage Grove to the south are working towns that are still recovering from the timber bust of the "late 1900's" Luckily, the University engine still powers the economy here. Surrounded by clear cuts, there are some beautiful mountain valleys where hippie homesteads have survived the exodus from San Fransisco for decades. There is a biofuel station in town, serving biodiesel and ethanol, and a thriving farmer's market. Land can be anywhere from $10,000-30,000 per acre.

We have yet to explore Portland fully, but so far we have found several green realtors:
Cascadia Homes Realtors, Roots Realty, and GreenHousing. More to come on our way back north.

I can't wait to explore the area surrounding Ashland including the Applegate valley. Situated between the Cascade and Siskiou Mountains, tons of organic vegetable and herb farms dot the mountain valleys. I only hope that we can digest and synthesize what we've seen enough to make a decision about where to live in a week...no pressure.

Classifieds: Hippies Seeking Land

2006-08-28T12:33:00.000-07:00

Today is Saturday, and we have been on this trip for about 2 ½ weeks. Today I felt discouraged. My life feels embarrassingly cliché. Here is a short clip - the story of our life:
Four hippies file out of the VW van - in any random town - at any random gas station, grocery store, coffee shop, or real estate office. Inevitably someone will ask, “Where ya’ll from?”
All four hippies at once: “Uhhhhh….”
“Where are you going?”
“Uhhhh….”
“Ya’ll musicians or something?”
“No man. We’re travelin’ around looking for a place to live.”
“Where do you think you’ll end up?”
“Uhhhhh…..”
In mean honestly… Do we really want to go through the WHOLE explanation yet again? REALLY? For this random gas station attendant, person parked beside us, or coffee shop patron. Do we honestly want to rehash the fact that we’re from Alaska, California, Colorado, and Kentucky? That we all met in New Orleans doing disaster relief.
“Oh yeah? New Orleans huh? How’re they doin’ over there?”
That we are traveling around looking for 20-40 acres where we can start a sustainable community… You know, just like all those other VW vans, full of idealistic hippies. “Oh, and by the way… ya’ want some granola? Cause we’ve got plenty.”
Anyone in their 20’s and early 30’s is excited and intrigued by this information. They want to tell us about everyone they know who is doing anything sustainable - or that they are just about to do EXACTLY the same thing themselves. Older people flash us the familiar “OF-COURSE-you-wanna -start-a-sustainable-community” face. I know what’s going on behind that face. If you turn the corner of that forced smile, this person’s brain is sifting through all her friends who tried to start communities when they were OUR AGE. And how all of them FAILED.
Yes, I recognize I’m bein’ a little paranoid. I hope so anyway. But I don’t blame “the face of experience.” There are 10 million hippies that wanna start communities. if it were even a little-bit easy, we’d all have been born in tiny villages, raised on fresh baked bread and organic veggies by 23 mommas, 18 papas, a forest and a river.

But we weren’t. We were raised on Spam, Jiff, and saltines - by one mother, a tell-a-vision, and a 12‘-by-14’ back yard.
According to “Creating a Life Together” by Diana Christian, which - by the way - is the official bible of this expedition, only 10% of the communities that try to form, ever transform to actuality. And that’s 10% of the people who even make it to the “trying phase.” It has already taken me 7 years just to work my way out of the “talking” and into the “doing.”
Despite my initial confession of discouragement, I’m pretty sure that we (the Tuff Roots) are in the running for that “successful 10%.” Partly this is because we are determined to be clear and communicative about what we are looking for, and the steps we need to take to reach these goals.
So, here I am… on the blog… trying to make all this very sharp and understandable for everyone. If there are any remaining curiosities… or fundamentals I have glossed over, please let me know.
WE ARE INVISIONING:
*20-40 acres
*Water on the property (pond, river, creek)
*Plenty of trees, but preferably 2 acres clear and flat for garden space and building structures
*A structure on the property would be nice, but we aren’t willing to pay a whole lot extra for one, because the land is what’s most important, and we’d probably end up drastically renovating it anyway.
*Zoned so that we can have one large communal building and enough out-buildings for up to 10 families.
*One hour or less commute to a nearby city or town (work/fun/people who aren’t scared of my hair - armpit or otherwise)
*Under $250.000 (Ideally around $150.000)
We recognize that it will very likely take longer than the 3 or 4 days we allot ourselves - in any given town - to discover this 30 acre squirt of utopia. We are using this trip to: learn about land prices and discover the perks and deficiencies of the areas we visit (length of growing season, rain fall, zoning regulations, job opportunities, general vibe. Etc.).
We will use this information to choose an area.
We will move there
We will begin encouraging others to move there
We will compile our resources, obtain more resources…
From that point on - there will really be no stopping us.
The Tuff Roots could very possibly re-configure the universe.
Am I getting carried away? Can you tell I’m feeling better? See… It’s all about re-connecting with your goals. We’re NOT just another band of roving hippies guzzling fossil fuels in the name of sustainability. We are THE TUFF ROOTS.
Good lord. I’m gonna stop before ya’ll decide I’m too cheesy to make a community with.
I love you.
Jes.
*side note - I apologize to all those who take offence to my lavish use of the term “hippie.” I have only one response: “if it don’t apply, let it fly.”
*other side note - (for a more logistical “Benja - composed” list of our strategies, click the “mission and vision statement” piece on the right hand column at the beginning of this blog)

Everywhere we go we meet kind souls and kindred spirits...
Hi Jaqui!

Some of them are even doing the same thing we are! This is Brett, Seth, Charley and Matt. We met them outside a real estate office on the Olympic Penninsula. They looked a little like us, VW and all, so we made lunch together.

all the interesting food in our van can attract an odd assortment of critters... no mice yet, but an interesting breed of elves that are exceptionally good at finding ALL of our secret food stashes.

We Brought EVERYTHING with us. Even the sewing machine.

This is my brother (sorry, this is Valisa speaking). He is one of our gracious hosts. Thanks for being understanding when we call and ask if we can stay with you... uh, tonight, and when we show up and don't leave for several days.

Creative Pennies

2006-08-25T01:15:00.000-07:00

Seattle is a hip city and the culture is definitely kick’en it on the funky tip. You know you have found that new wave progressive vibe when you go to a Hemp Rally downtown and a former Seattle Police Chief gets up to talk about his organization of law enforcement officers who think the current drug war is dangerously misguided. After a short visit with Valisa’s brother Hig and his wife Erin, we headed out on a Ferry towards the Olympic mountain range.
Westwind Farm at the Salt Creek community is just outside of Port Angeles, WA on the Olympic penninsula. Beautiful farmland with a creek full of tiny salmon sets in front of stands of trees which roll up to the tall Olympic mountains. Plus side: Lots of infrastructure, already a working farm, Orchards, Row Crops, main farmer has set aside land to build more houses on. Neg. Side: 100-200 inches of rain a year…can a Colorado desert kid survive that??? Also, the farmer, Peter, did not clearly spell out how we could assume partnership/ownership of the land with him since we want to “own” land not just work on someone else’s farm. We are going to write Peter for some more information and questions to feel out whether or not this farm/community could be a good fit for us.
Overall the Olympic peninsula looks beautiful for farming and has protected watersheds above many of the pieces we looked at. Plus there are Lots of trees so if the rain gets to be too much we could grab our animals and build an arc. Although we can’t forget, as Bryan said the other day, “Rain is a natural resource“…a scarce one in many places we have visited.
Land is expensive everywhere…especially so when you start looking in beautiful places, close to hip towns and cities, or near colleges. It takes bling to make bling-bling or so the saying goes. And that is why we have been looking for more than just a cheap piece of land in a very rural area. The more I look and see “perfect” pieces at double what we want to pay the more I realize that really good land is valuable to many people. The question is…do we walk away from the land we want because of the price tag or do we pull a few tricks out of the magic hat and try to get the land we want.
The intentional communities how-to book, Creating a Life Together, is both frightening and inspiring at the same time. It is scary how complicated all the land buying paper work, taxes, real estate transactions, loans, by-laws, and such can be, especially to those of us who have never done it before. But it is also inspiring to read about all the people who have found a myriad of creative ways to bring people together to pool resources so that beautiful land can be liberated by those of us with fewer zeros in our bank accounts.
The other day my artist friend Shannon Bowley called. She did volunteer recruitment with Emergency Communities and had just got some extra flow from some commissioned art pieces she is working on. She promised us 5,000 dollars as a loan in case we find the perfect thing and need a little help. Everybody sing, I get by with a little help….
On a larger scale, Earthhaven community in North Carolina created a program called EarthShares in the first year of their community. They owed just under half a million dollars on the property they bought and needed a way to keep the bank/owner financers from trying to snatch the land back should they fall on a hard month or two. So they wrote up some brochures about their venture in sustainable development and structured a way for people to invest money in their project with a timeline for pay back with interest just under what the bank would have charged. Something like a green or socially conscious stock option. In four years they have paid back all of the money to the bank and now continue payments to their investors. Still in debt in a way, but they are growing and successful so both borrower and lender are proud of what they have accomplished together. All I am saying is….let us not run from the fear of the unknown but let us all reach out to our networks and support systems to find a way to materialize our dreams. The worst that we could do is fail…but at least we tried. As Shakespeare said, “Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we might win by failing to attempt.”
Stay tuned for further information about the Tuff Roots Stock Option.

Fruits of Disaster

2006-08-25T00:02:00.000-07:00

When my brother asked me if we wanted to pick blackberries I wasn’t expecting a trip to another disaster zone. “It’s a long walk from downtown,” he said. When my brother says it’s a long walk, you best ask how long no matter how robust you feel. After all, he and his wife will set out on month long treks without batting an eye.

Ten miles seemed a little far, so the boys and I set out in the van, leaving Jesika at the house to get some writing done. My brother’s favorite blackberry patch is set in an upscale neighborhood overlooking Puget Sound. Years ago a sizable portion of the waterfront sloughed off and slid down the bank towards the sea.

We scrambled through barbed vines below a jagged scar, fenced off and forgotten, the rubble almost invisible from the road above. Under a layer of bushes sagging with ripe fruits, fragments of streets and houses peek out at us: a dog chain and bowl still attached to a broken post, a cement staircase curved around a sandy beach, a long black tongue of asphalt protruding from a sandy bank. Here and there you see garden plants that still struggle for survival under the encroaching berries. A large clump of bamboo slumps under the weight of criss-crossed branches.

I try to pay my respects to these crumbled piles of dreams. I kick at a broken flagstone and imagine the excess and opulence, and the downright disregard for nature that would lead someone to build these teetering money-pits by the bay, and instead fight off a childish smirk. Money can’t buy wisdom.

I wonder if blackberries will grow over Waveland. Will we build a fence around New Orleans and watch it sink beneath the sea? Eight years, and the rest of Seattle seems to have forgotten this neighborhood ‘s slide into the Sound. How long until we forget the wrath of Katrina?

Here in Seattle the houses creep towards the bluffs (and the bluffs inch ever closer to the manicured lawns). On the Gulf Coast Levees are rebuilt, residents return, and the drunks still stagger down Bourbon Street. We search for land and speculate about sea level rise, global warming and earthquakes, and suddenly the finality of land-ownership seems a little less secure.

Amber Waves of Grain

2006-08-22T09:41:00.000-07:00

We just got to Seattle after spending 2 days in Spokane. There was all kinds of horrendous forshadowing concerning Spokane. Everyone told us it was conservative to the core, and we were gonna hate it. Regardless, we were hell bent on going there cause we’ve read all this great stuff about the Tolstoy community that had us really interested. Besides, Sherman Alexie is from Spokane. He wrote “The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven” And that’s a damn good book.
Anyway, we employed the ol’ tried and true strategy that we use in EVERY new town we enter: Pick out a café that looks like it’s got wireless, and saunter on in. Maybe eat a little granola first, so you aren’t tempted to buy a pastery.
*side note: This trip has been sponsored by Waves of Grain granola. We have about sixty seven hundred pounds of it - donated by Benja’s sister, LeAnn, and her partner, Marcus. They make kick ass granola in Durango CO, and… let me tell ya, it just never gets old. Any time one of us is getting a little cranky in the van… just pass down the granola. Chances are the blood sugar was just a little low, and if not - at least it keeps the grumpy mouth full so nothing else rude can escape.
Ok… where was I…
The girl behind the counter (Rachel) recommended that I try this Raspberry Mate combo, and while she was brewing it - informed me of the fact that Ani Difranco is pregnant. I had no idea.
All sorts of interesting discussion transpired after that and - before ya know it - she’d invited us all to spend the night at her house.
We spent the rest of Thursday exploring Spokane, and arrived at Rachel’s house just in time to witness as her partner finished (drum roll please) the LAST sentence of the LAST essay of his COLLEGE CAREER!
Of course we were forced to celebrate this monumental event with them. It would have been rude not to. Right?

The next day, Tolstoy was on the agenda. Because they had never returned ANY of the 10 phone calls we have left them over the last month and a half, we decided to drop in unexpectedly. We drove around Spokane farm land for about 2 ½ hours - trying to follow our internet directions and failing miserably. Needless to say, there was plenty of grumbling - muffled by granola of course.

FINALLY we had had our fill of picturesque farm machinery and amber waves of grain.

We had exhausted all our creativity - singing out of tune and butchering the lyrics to “America the Beautiful.” We were actually TIRED OF GRANOLA. At this point we all realized that we HATE TOLSTOY FARMS, and we want NOTHING to do with them. Stupid ol’ phone-call non-returners.
We didn’t want this to be a completely fruitless venture, so we stopped and picked apples off the side of the road. Then we went swimming in a lake, came back to our new friend’s house, and made stir-fry and apple pie. It was REALLY GOOD apple pie.
When we left on Saturday we decided that we actually LIKE Spokane and, depending on how things go further west, Benja and I may attempt to check out Tolstoy again on our way back. But - before we do - I am going to leave them an answering machine message to remember. An answering machine message that will COMMAND ATTENTION. An answering machine message that will leave them frightened….
yet intrigued…
And hopefully feeling a little sorry about being such a bunch of NON-PHONE CALL RETURNING SUSTAINABLE SCHMUCK FARMERS!!!

Mission and Vision Statements

2006-08-19T21:45:00.000-07:00

Vision Statement

To create a healthy community of diverse and socially conscious individuals in order to steward land through sustainable development and educate through practical application.

Mission Statement

To bring together a diverse group of dedicated individuals who are searching for healthy, socially conscious, and environmental alternatives to the mainstream unhealthy and fragmented social structure. We seek to draw people together who wish to pool financial and material resources, skills, sweat, and visions in an effort to create an intentionally formed community composed of a tight circle of family and friends. Stewardship of the land and sustainable development of the community’s property shall be at the forefront of all community visions and decisions. Children are a key community element as we create a caring and safe “village” setting for community members to raise children and outreach to local youth to help educate and inspire young people in the surrounding area. We will also work towards financial self-sustainability through the formation of a solid foundation for socially conscious small businesses related to healing, education, sustainable living, and sustainable agriculture.

Goals

~Find Geographic area to settle in, find work, and begin in depth land search.
~Assess number of potential community members interested in the chosen area and encourage everyone to relocate to nearby towns.
~All community members should examine how much capital they have on hand and how much borrowing potential they could potentially represent.
~Set up non-profit to begin volunteer educational outreach while writing off as much as possible on taxes as we work to find land.
~Explore possible Corporate Entities to do the actual land buying and establish it ASAP

Kindness and Community

2006-08-19T12:09:00.000-07:00

Western Heratage Cultural Institute
Two days ago (I think it was two days ago) we visited the Western Heratage Cultural Institute. We were shown around by Bernadette and Bevin. Bevin lives on the property and Bernadette lives close by and is on the board of directors. Bevin has been focused on starting communities for the last… ummmm… lots and lots of years. He said that this particular one was his 8th try, and he is considering moving on to something new. The Western Heratage Cultural Institute is a very note-worthy combination of folks. The majority of them are Mormon. Bernadette and Bevin, however, spoke about goddess centered and earth-based philosophies. They both alluded to some struggles within the community due to this diversity, but seemed hopeful that everyone is being “more real” with each-other to work out the conflicts.
These two philosophies meet in the middle over their common assurance that (in my words, not theirs) the shit is about to hit the fan. Whether this upheaval will be a result of Armageddon - or the earth shaking off her shackles… whether the source of this insight is the Bible - or the Mayan Calendar - the preparations that need to take place are the same. As Bernadette said, “I’ve been growing so far left that, all of a sudden, I turned a corner and ran smack into the right!“
Now they are all working together to build a sustainable community, and to network with other farms and neighborhoods in the area to create a general system of support - and they have accomplished a lot in the six years that they’ve been working together.
They have a large, well-functioning green house and quite a number of structures (6... 7...?) built in earth ship fashion. They dig many of their buildings into the earth - to maintain a moderate temperature throughout the year - and they use structural materials such as straw bales and tires. They have a semi-large garden and, though they do have water on their property, they have found a way to irrigate using run-off from other farms’ irrigation.

Having worked - personally - with several groups of people who fell apart earlier and over differences - seemingly - much smaller than the ones I witnessed here, I was very motivated and encouraged by the accomplishments: spiritual, emotional, and physical, that I saw at the Western Heratage Cultural Institute.
They did express that they would like to have some younger folks to join in on their projects (They all seemed to be in their late 40’s to 60’s - except for the children.) - but I have a hard time visualizing us leaping into the middle of that Mormon / Pagan struggle. It did, however, lead us to more consideration about joining a pre-formed community of older folks. As I understand more about the difficulties and complications of the community-forming process, I realize how it could very easily leave you old and gray by the time it all comes to fruition. After that, if there is no vitality left to jazz things up - or lift heavy things- it could easily fade away to nothing.
So the question is… do we want to be the wise ol’ grizzled community starters? Or the spark of life that jumps in to keep it going?

General Niceness
I just want to comment, quickly, on the overall grand-spanking-wonderfulness of everyone we have encountered in Montana and Idaho. At each small town we stumble upon, I walk tentatively into the coffee shop to guzzle my daily intake of caffeine and ask if there’s a wireless connection. I say ‘tentatively’ because I just left a few towns in Colorado (which shall remain nameless) where my general appearance seemed to create… what shall we call it? A slight disturbance - stepping onto any random coffee shop or Target. On one occasion I was even told that a certain pregnant woman had to “flee the scene” because the sight of my arm-pit hair instigated her morning sickness.
Needless to say, when I walk around in these small, Montana cowboy towns - I try to permeate a vibration that says, “don’t worry, I’m nice - and I probably won’t give you fleas.”
But it really hasn’t been necessary. Everyone here has been absolutely godly to us. If I receive any odd looks, they seem to be full of intrigue rather than nausea. People initiate conversation, asking where we’re from and where we’re going. They tell us stories and give suggestions.
At the Western Heritage Cultural Institute, Bevin wouldn’t let us leave without accepting grocery bags FULL of kale, peppers, tomatoes, onions, tomatillos, chard, and beans.
Two nights ago - we were supposed to stay in a cabin belonging to Paul, a friend of Valisa’s mom. It turned out the cabin was not quite as comfortable as he had described. His neighbors, Carl and Vikki, decided that we would be more relaxed in their cabin - which was utterly fuzz-cuddly wonderful. They invited us in, fed us dinner, and gave us a book of Hot Springs in the North West.
Even now, as I write this from a Coffee shop in Spokane Washington, we have just been invited to stay tonight in Rachel‘s house. She’s the girl who served us our tea.

The Black Bean

2006-08-17T12:59:00.000-07:00

We almost ran out of gas today. At a non-descript station somewhere in Idaho we fill up and breathe a sigh of relief. 21 gallons and sixty some dollars later Brian decides to check the oil. He comes back to the door all flustered, “I can’t check the oil because something fell all over it!” He grabs a rag and slams the door. Jes, Benja and I look at each other. Benja, still half asleep, tries to decide if it sounds serious enough to warrant venturing out from under his blanket. “Will you guys see what he’s talking about?” Jes and I jump out. Turns out something resembling a black inflated bean has broken loose from the engine compartment and is hanging limply from a cluster of wires. Brian thinks it’s important, so we decide we have to do something about it. Unfortunately I don’t have the proper size bolt, so we dig around for something comparable. Brian’s sleeping pad is tied up with a piece of insulated wire salvaged from the internet connections he had torn out of the relief center in St. Bernard. I trade him for a piece of twine and he gets to work. Gee, we sure are creative! One quick-fix later we are on the road to Spokane, and all seems well. “That being said, we should stop by a hardware store,” says Brian, always the pragmatist. Thank goodness for Brioscorea! -Valisa

Questions

2006-08-15T15:45:00.000-07:00

Questions to Travel By

So, while we’re traveling I’m looking out the window. I am trying to make sure I pay attention to shifts in the landscape ‘cause – you know - I wanna make sure this is educational ‘n stuff. I have a tendency to get utterly absorbed in my embroidery, or my own head… and then Valisa says “wow, look at that beautiful something-or-other” which pulls me back to here-ness and I realize, “DAMNATION! We just drove over an entire mountain pass and I completely zoned out the WHOLE 13,000 FOOT HIGH 3 BAZILLIAN MILE STRETCH OF IT.

Sometimes… while I’m staring out the window, forgetting to pay attention, I am trying to figure out what exactly the four of us are doing on this crazy venture. It sort of feels like the most important project of my whole life… and, alternately, completely aimless. Sometimes I hear parental – type voices in my head saying things like:
“What the hell are you doing? Gallivanting across the country eh? Trying to find a place to live are ya? Sounds like a good excuse for a vacation if you ask me.”

Yeah. Don’t lie. You know you’ve thought it. You’ve seen the pictures haven’t you? Yesterday we explored Moab – checked out some petroglyphs. Today we hiked two miles to soak in Idaho hot springs.
Nope, I won’t deny it folks. We’re havin’ a real good time on this cross country jaunt of ours.

I don’t feel guilty about it, or defensive. But I don’t mind giving it a little consideration.

I’ve lived in a lot of places already. Kentucky, Colorado, Georgia, North Carolina, Louisiana. And I have family… community… in all of those spots. People who I would be completely satisfied to live and work with all the rest of my life.
I like the land in those areas too. I love listening to the cicadas in the summertime in Georgia. I love when the rain is warm. Hell, I even love humidity… when the air around me has a body of its own. I adore Rhododendrons. Yes. I know. They’re invasive - I’m supposed to hate them… but I don’t. I even enjoy Kudzu.
I love the jungley denseness of the Mountains in North Carolina. I love the open space and the high that takes my breath away in Colorado.
Kentucky… I’m not gonna talk about the hills or the horses, cause that’s cliché - but I was born in Kentucky. My family is there. It will always be my home.
New Orleans… well… I’m not about to defend the aesthetics of the Fast Track Betting parking lot, but I am in love, infatuation, lust, reality-pulled-out-from-under-me, did I mention IN LOVE with my friends and the work they are doing there.

So what the hell am I doing using up all these fossil fuels… burning the blood of the mother – so that I can see if there’s something out there… better?

Bad.
Bad hippie.

Do I think I’m gonna be skipping along and all of a sudden I’ll just trip and fall – slam dunk – into a bowl of Jesikan Utopia? And even better… It’s not just Jesikan Utopia, but Benjan Utopia… and Valisan Utopia… and (Bryan doesn’t fit the flow so well does he? Brian-ian Utopia?) anyway… Tahz, and Shannon, and Lali, and Kiki, and Laura, and Josh… and alla ya’ll. You’re all gonna slam dunk into the Utopian mush pot with me right? And we’ll all move in together and live happily ever after?

I know I’m sweet and giggly… but I’m not quite that naive.

So… why can’t I just settle down somewhere nice, get an exciting job - teaching teenaged derelicts - and start growing carrots or something?

Is it ‘cause I really want a vacation with my friends? Nope.
Is it cause I’m a gypsy at heart and the wind owns my soul?
Yeah right. I wish I were that glamorous.
Is it ‘cause everyone else thought it was a good idea - and I just took a flying leap onto the band wagon?
Hell no. You think I can’t make up my own mind?
Sorry – I even push my own buttons sometimes.

So… where were we? I think this was the part where I had intended to bring it all together and answer the question - or at least pull something that sounded generally grounded and intelligent outta my ass.

But… uh…. sometimes the Goddess leaves me hangin’. Right now – sittin’ on a green carpet in Darby, Montana - in the guest bedroom of Valisa’s first cousin once removed - I am definitely danglin’ for an answer.

I think it’s prob’ly one’a them gol’ durned spirichul thangs.

Valisa, Brian, and Benja and me… we’re just listenin’ to God over here ya’ll.
How ‘bout let’s have a little faith and stop askin’ so many questions ok?

I’m being serious by the way. Just in case you weren’t sure.
Of course, as always, my opinions do not necessarily reflect the opinions of anyone else in the Tuff Roots conglomerate. (That’s our working title.) The Tuff Roots part – not the conglomerate. I only added that just now ‘cause it sounded cute.

Oh, we now (also) have official traveling titles. Here they are:

Brian: Brioscorea Basoria (I have no idea how to spell it, but you should say it in Latin)
Jes: Death Bunny
Valisa: Dark Fire
Benja: Skinny White Buffalo

Let’s also just take a moment to give thanks for Valisa and her cousin once removed, Nathan, and this beautiful house that he built PRACTICALLY BY HIMSELF out of trees burned in the big Montana fires - and guest bedrooms with green carpets.
And all of you – who we love and talk about constantly - while we’re at it.

Red Rock Vision Opening

2006-08-15T15:14:00.000-07:00

From red rock birth
southwest sky blue deeper
the longer you stare skyward
and desert solitude strength
spread out in red pink sandstone
brown green rivers flow in cycle
gushing falling giving
from dry lands
waiting hoping praying
for rain
We spoke to elders
And they:
Grandfather with quiet wit and solem peace
Grandmother with spinning stories and laughing memory
And they made us big pancake breakfast
to sustain us on our way.
When we hunger may we always be fed thus
with stories and smiles.

The crimson desert oasis lunch later
water spring pool Bat spirals
around humming dragonfly
Butterfly drinking deeply
May we pass through
these illusions of living and dying
with the grace of Butterfly
No fear of Metamorphisis

~Benjah

Hey all... Check out this revised version of our mission/vision statement. I tried to take everyones recent feedback into account to form a concrete statement of all of our intentions. Please comment back on this page with any other suggestions and thoughts. Email me directly if you want a working copy of more detailed bylaw documents. aliceandhatter@hotmail.com

Vision Statement

To create a healthy community of diverse and socially conscious individuals in order to steward land through sustainable development and educate through practical application.

Mission Statement

To bring together a diverse group of dedicated individuals who are searching for healthy, socially conscious, and environmental alternatives to the mainstream unhealthy and fragmented social structure. We seek to draw people together who wish to pool financial and material resources, skills, sweat, and visions in an effort to create an intentionally formed community composed of a tight circle of family and friends. Stewardship of the land and sustainable development of the community’s property shall be at the forefront of all community visions and decisions. Children are a key community element as we create a caring and safe “village” setting for community members to raise children and outreach to local youth to help educate and inspire young people in the surrounding area. We will also work towards financial self-sustainability through the formation of a solid foundation for socially conscious small businesses related to healing, education, sustainable living, and sustainable agriculture.

starting out

2006-08-12T14:01:00.000-07:00

Today is Friday, the 12th of August, and we are mere hours from barreling out of this state of Colorado.
A month and a half ago, 8… 9… 10… lets just say a large bustling clan of us - left New Orleans and landed in Boulder Colorado. In Boulder we rented a 2 bedroom house together for a month. During this time we sewed, landscaped, had meetings, made money, had lots of visitors, celebrated a ridiculous number of birthdays, and tried to re-adjust to a culture where houses are not rotting hell holes, the air is clean, sidewalks are not made of pallets, and we have to actually pay for stuff.
Needless to say, we are still adjusting.
After 8 fast-paced months of cooking healthy meals for the masses, organizing a non-profit, keeping the peace, and maintaining a rockin’ dance party in the kitchen… some of us are feeling a little lost, purposeless and displaced.
I should only speak for myself.
What I truly need is a home. I need a space where I can focus my passion and creativity on a project that isn’t going to slide out from under me in 6 months or 5 years. I need my long hours of work to potentially result in me making money (or some resource equivalent). And I need to make friends without the looming reality that I will have to leave them in the next year or so.
This is why Brian, Valisa, Benja, and me (Jes) are going on this really spectacular road voyage… to seek our fortune.
We are counting on the fact that whatever “home” situation we stumble upon will be so in-arguably fantabulous that the rest of you will be seduced (permanently, temporarily, or - at very least - in hologram form) to join us.

Right now I am officially psyched on this blog idea. I solemnly swear to keep anyone who’s interested informed of every spectacular moment on this trip… unless, of course, it has been deemed inappropriate. Benja, I am certain, will serve as my censor. I mean editor.
So far we have been on the road for 2 days, and they haven’t been terribly eventful. We still haven’t left Colorado.
We are still in the process of creating a name for our traveling crew. These are the prospective titles so far: (I won’t differentiate between serious and silly because it switches. Yes. You would be surprised).
Roots, Root Seekers, Arial Roots, Tuff Roots, Tap Roots, Rhizomes, Bulbs, The Bulb Heads, Embers, Burning Embers, The Smoking Embers, The Hopeful Embers, Dark Fire, The Ember Keepers, Whispering Embers, Seed Seekers, Remember the Ember, RemEmber, We-Told-You-So, Rising Ground, Transplants, Non-native Transplants, Gassy Embers, Gas-Roots, The Idealists, The Flakey Idealists, The Young and Flakey Idealists.

That’s it so far. Any new ideas or constructive feedback welcomed. Be nice to us.

Our Blog is called “The Last Bite.”
On that note - visualize someone’s birthday party. It is a big birthday party and there is 1 utterly decadent raspberry rhubarb pie (you are welcome to fill in your desert of choice). The pie is disappearing quickly. There are a lot of hungry folks swarming around that kitchen counter. Pieces are whizzin’ outta that pan so fast that some folks are getting worried. Maybe even a little angry. Soon there is only one piece left. One polite, drooling guest cuts that piece in half. The knife gets left in the pie plate and people drift by, nibbling a bite here and there as they go. Pretty soon it’s been whittled down till no person can legitimately eat another smidgeon without eating “the last bite.”
At this point, all kinds of crazy psychology gets involved but don’t worry. I’m not gonna go there.
The bite could get eaten ½ hour later when some lucky soul finds himself alone in the kitchen.
It could be devoured loud and proud by the boldest sister at the party
Or maybe it gets left on the counter till 8:30 the next morning when it lands in the sink on top of a mass of dirty dishes where it is saved - in the last possible second - by a very enthusiastic gutter punk.
One way or another… no matter how long it takes… no matter how many times it gets divided… no matter how small… the last bite is always savored.
Just tryin’ to keep that in mind… while I’m missin’ all of you.

The Last Bite remains intact

2006-08-11T12:14:00.000-07:00

Most of the meal has been devoured and enjoyed, yet a small piece still remains in the center of the table, awaiting a hungry hand. Here in the USA, we are left with the last bites of clean water and buried petroleum.

We travellers are the last bite of the Made With Love Cafe volunteers searching for a home after leaving Hurricane Katrina's disaster zone. Here is the story of our search for land and community.

Mission statement:

The community to be formed will bring together a diverse group of dedicated individuals who are searching for healthy, socially conscious, and environmental alternatives to our current unhealthy and fragmented social structure. We shall strive to draw people together who wish to pool financial and material resources, skills, sweat, and visions in an effort to create an intentionally formed community composed of a tight circle of family and friends. Stewardship of the land and sustainable development of the community’s property shall be a goal at the forefront of all community visions and decisions. Children shall be one key element in the community goals with a strong emphasis on creating a caring and safe “village” setting for community members to raise children in. The community will also strive to outreach to local youth to help educate and inspire all young people in the surrounding area. This focus on youth may culminate in the creation of a home school center or seasonal education programs. In addition to environmental sustainability, this community will also attempt to be financially self-sustainable through the formation of a solid foundation for socially conscious small businesses related to healing, education, sustainable living, and sustainable agriculture.
We are looking all across the U.S. for the place to put our roots down right now. We would love to hear from anyone who knows of specific land out there that is crying to be protected and that could nourish our community in return. Currently we are seaching in the North West U.S.