Tyler Blue | Interpreting Life Through Words

The Blue Blog: Swallowed Up By Nor. Cal’s Redwood Vortex

Posted on September 2, 2011 by Tyler

We all have our happy places. Those spots on Earth that soothe our soul and clear away the clutter; making it easier to connect with who we really are. These are the mental images we tune in while sitting in the dentist’s chair. Ever since I first came in contact with a redwood tree only about 15 years ago, redwood forests have been that place. It doesn’t matter which one. Santa Cruz, Mendocino, Humboldt… as different as they may be, they are all linked by the power of their towering inhabitants. Whenever I broach this subject, people tend to respond in solidarity. They share my love for the redwoods and there are so many reasons why millions share this common enchantment. First there’s the shear size, where in many cases we can’t even see the top. They are all unique like snowflakes ranging from cylindrical idealism to mutant varieties splitting into two like Siamese twins. Then there’s the knowledge that they’ve been around for hundreds of years before our birth. These aren’t inanimate objects. They are receptacles for environmental information. The symbiotic relationship they have with each other and the ecosystem around them is palpable. Then there’s a spiritual element which transcends all of that. Something we can’t fully put our finger on.

As long as no one's hunting them, these elk appear to have it pretty darn good (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

Let’s turn back the clock several weeks to that day Raven and I saw the grey whale swimming in the Klamath River, three miles inland from the ocean. The 45-foot whale had been there for six weeks at that point on August 6th and still looked totally healthy and happy as far as we could tell. Sadly she beached herself a week later and it is still not known why she was motivated to stray so far from her migratory path. One piece I read suggested it could have been due to Navy sonar. After we drove away from the bridge, where at least 50 people admired the whale about 80-feet below, the live Animal Planet experience continued. We quickly found ourselves passing through elk country. Small herds lounged in grassy meadows as we admired them from afar. “What a life,” I exclaimed, watching these massive beasts appearing extra sedate as if they had just polished off a hearty brunch. They might as well have been reading the paper and smoking a pipe while savoring their unified family dynamic.

These trees like to hug back. They are full of love. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

Pretty soon we came to the turn-off for the Newton B. Drury Scenic Parkway which would take us through Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park. Thick fog hung over the landscape obscuring the trees and taking the scene a step beyond mystical. Not having a lot of spare time, we didn’t stop to hike. It was satisfying enough to stare in reverence and inhale the air. Further down the coast, we reached the Avenue of the Giants – perhaps the world’s most awe-inspiring road through a redwood forest. The name says it all as these trees loomed like Jack’s beanstalk, dipping their leafy wicks into the clouds. I imagined how glorious it would be to have a whole afternoon to stop at every trailhead and wander amongst the giants. We did stop to take a short hike and get up close and personal. I think one of the things that appeals to me about the redwoods is they have a human-like essence. They grow in close proximity and it’s easy to imagine them carrying profound conversations with each other.

Walking along the fern-laden trail, we came upon a particularly powerful trio. Aligning myself in their center, I basked in the oxygen-rich vortex, inhaled the sweet atmosphere and sensed the ions swirling around me. Somewhere very close yet just out of sight, a babbling brook added its own harmony to the mix. On the way back, we took turns shimmying into a narrow opening in the trunk of one of the trees. Being enveloped by redwood, touching the fibers and feeling the pulse of organic life is something of a revelation.

These are some of the smaller trees on the Avenue of the Giants (Photo: T. Blue)

Tucked within the Humboldt Redwoods State Park, the Avenue of the Giants is an ultimate expression of man’s creation converged with nature’s gifts. The asphalt ribbon unreels through four connected sections of forest; each as amazing as the last. I contemplated a day when there would be time to cover all 31 miles on foot so I could touch every tree and explore every grove. Ahhh…One can dream. I miss those redwoods as I write about them now. Pictures don’t do justice but I can call upon the mental images whenever I want to return to my happy place. Emerging from the forest, there was the Eel River; flowing gently and blinking in the afternoon sunlight. Of course we couldn’t continue down the 101 without taking a plunge in the cool, moss-colored water. Somewhat to my surprise, it was exponentially warmer than the Rogue River two days before. Cleansing ourselves of everything that came before, a fresh chapter opened as a new round of adventure awaited further south.

Posted in Blog | Tagged Avenue of the Giants, California redwoods, grey whale in the Klamath River, Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park, redwood forests, whales effected by Navy sonar | Leave a comment

The Blue Blog: Catching Up with Soul Friends – Part Two (South Lake Tahoe)

Posted on August 24, 2011 by Tyler

Waking up with burning nostrils, cracked lips and parched throat from the bone-dry air is a small price to pay for being immersed in the beauty of Lake Tahoe. The last time we passed through this mountainous sanctuary, it was autumn and we were captivated by the goldenrod leaves falling from groves of quaking aspens. Almost a full cycle of the sun later, it was summer, the tourists were out in droves and the lake was shimmering in all its glory. The pungent smell of pines permeated the atmosphere as we awoke everyday to some of the most perfect weather on Earth. Well, I suppose it could use just a hair of humidity. The last stretch driving into South Lake Tahoe always feels like forever as you wind along next to the Truckee River, navigate mountain passes and finally drop into the basin. When we come to Tahoe, we’re coming to visit the exceptional human being who introduced Raven and I – a dynamo known as Scott Free. This time the pot was sweetened with two concerts by a rock ‘n roll band called Phish.

Since he left Santa Barbara over ten years ago, Scott has lived in a handful of houses in different areas of California in search of his ultimate comfort zone. He still hasn’t found it, but what they all have in common is the ability to create the sense of an instant vacation whenever anyone visits. His prerequisite of a hot tub is undoubtedly a contributing factor. Back in the fall of ’99, Scott was kind enough to share his tiny studio apartment with me in the Santa Barbara mountains. He’s come a long way since then when his main piece of furniture was the removable bench seat from his Chevy Suburban. During that time I realized how skillful he is in the kitchen, stemming from extensive experience working in restaurants. Operating with surgical precision, he would bust out these simple, healthy, flavorful meals with impressive efficiency. Arriving at his house a couple weeks ago on a Monday night, my eyes lit up when he announced that a stir fry was on the menu. Not only can he cook up a storm, but you can always count on him to have cutting edge condiments like coconut liquid aminos, nutritional yeast and sriracha. In the morning, there’s a good chance he’ll have a glass of freshly pressed veggie juice for you.

Anyone who really knows Scott, is well aware of his reputation for throwing legendary parties. He’s met the majority of his friends, including Raven and I, in connection with live music. When certain musical events call for it, he loves nothing more than capping the evening with a classy, yet decidedly hedonistic, soiree. I have been hearing about all these parties happening in hotel suites around the country over the last decade but hadn’t actually been to one since February 2000 at the infamous Hyatt on the Sunset Strip. When the Phish juggernaut announced two shows in South Lake Tahoe, the stage was set for Senor Free to lay down the gauntlet. Hosting it at his own house wouldn’t work because it was way too far from the venue at Harvey’s Outdoor Arena. Naturally he had to seek out the most spectacular lakeside rental just a five minute walk from the concert. The fact that his mom passed away after an 18-month battle with brain cancer two days before the shows only intensified the importance of following through with these plans and surrounding himself with as much love and support as possible. He had a beautiful altar set up in her honor.

Not that you would need a party to be entertained at this house but it was definitely a bonus. (Photo: T. Blue)

Considering that these shows were a reunion for oodles of friends who hadn’t seen each other in a long time, having a common ground to reconnect was priceless. Each night after the shows, my heart kept skipping beats as a steady stream of blasts from the past poured through the door. For the days leading up to it, I went through my head imagining the people I would see. Of course I couldn’t even begin to imagine all the surprises. Things got off to a promising start as we checked into the house on Tuesday afternoon. Phish’s soundcheck resonated with perfect clarity right into the kitchen as we set up the bar. Scott is one of those, “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine,” kind of guys so it was great to meet some of his Colorado posse who flew out for the occasion. I hung especially hard with one cat in particular, Dave, who it turned out had gone to my same college (Clemson) for a couple of years. Like many of the more mature Phish aficionados these days, he slipped away from his wife and kids to tap into some of the best music happening right now on the planet. Starting out with this band 18 years ago, it’s been interesting to see the steady climb of the average audience age range which now hovers in the 30s and 40s.

Whether day or night, whenever anyone walked in the backyard of the party house, a gasp was generally followed by a bout of laughter. The image of Lake Tahoe surrounded by mountains is dramatic and borderline surreal even when barely visible. This one ponderosa pine, bigger than all the others, anchored the shoreline like a sentry, pumping copious amounts of oxygen into the thin air. In a way it was kind of a blessing that it was too cold to spend much time outside so that all the noise would be contained inside the wooden log walls. As the festivities wound down the second night, a few of us huddled by the outdoor stone fireplace in front of the house. It had all gone by too quick but we’ve come to expect that by now. I was kind of amazed things never got out of hand. Scott’s parties have a way of attracting only the “right” people.

Adam and I don't see each other or talk very often but when we get together, the sparks always fly. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

Staying in South Lake Tahoe for the next week afforded us the opportunity to fit in quality time with a few people we share a rare, soulful kinship with. Allen and Adam have known each other for ages and it’s especially amusing to get them together because they riff off each other and know how to get the other one’s goat. After exploring other areas, Allen recently came back to Tahoe to roost. Intrepid as he is, Allen had just returned from a kayak camping trip he took only a day after having a double root canal. Crazy or committed? Maybe a good balance of both.

On Wednesday, we met the pair at Adam’s house for an extravagant homecooked meal. While we talked about our adventures, they also regaled us with tales from recent travels abroad. Allen with a story about haunted archeological ruins in Belize; Adam of the culinary splendors of Italy. (He said that the biggest American misconception of Italian food is that you’re supposed to eat pasta and meat together.) I know some foodies but this guy appreciates every component of the culinary universe in a wholistic way which approaches the realm of religion. When we made plans to meet and he said he was going to cook, we knew we were in for an experience.

The cheese course is a vital component of any French meal. (Photo: T. Blue)

Preparing for a family trip to France in the near future, he announced that he was in a French kind of mood. Like his personality, Adam’s cuisine is anything but subtle, but he is a master at bringing out the nuances of each ingredient. He also realizes the value in structuring any meal in a methodical way. After an elaborate cheese course, he revealed we’d be going straight to the entrée as Europeans never eat salad first. His white bean cassoulet was made with natural sausage purchased from the butcher just a few blocks away and perfectly tender bone-in chicken. I have a major thing for white beans so this was music to my palate. It was followed with a grilled nectarine salad adorned with a shower of fresh ground pepper. Cooking fruit on the grill is a crafty technique which made this dish into a standout. We concluded with a lemon granita – a simple sorbet-type of dessert he made with lemons and lemon rind. Super refreshing. I almost forgot the wines…We oohed and aahed as we compared two exceptional (and well-decanted) wines from France’s premiere regions of Burgundy and Bordeaux.

Later in the meal, Adam’s wife Jessica came home from roller derby practice. She has been on a team for a few years and during that time the sport has totally blossomed. She used to be one of the most mild-mannered people we knew, and she’s still no unabashed extrovert, but it’s cool to realize how a contact sport with such a focus on camaraderie can provide such a boost. Their two young daughters are surely inspired by mom’s extracurricular activity. Any Grateful Dead fan would appreciate Jessica’s roller derby alter ego: Scarlet>Fire. She actually had it printed on her shirt sleeve. She told us that recently men have gotten in on the action and are starting their own leagues. What a cool role reversal for men to play second fiddle in a sport. It’s about time. The women are probably tougher anyways.

Posted in Blog | Tagged French cuisine, Harvey's Lake Tahoe, Hyatt Sunset Strip, Phish, roller derby, South Lake Tahoe, white bean cassoulet | Leave a comment

The Blue Blog: Catching Up with Soul Friends – Part One (San Francisco)

Posted on August 21, 2011 by Tyler

Breaking bread with friends is a timeless ritual which tends to reignite memories from the past and accentuate the comfort of the present. During the past few weeks, we’ve had the pleasure of reconnecting with some of our favorite people on Earth coupled with delicious meals. Just this morning in San Francisco, my college roommate Adam wielded his culinary finesse with a brunch dish unlike any I’ve had before. I can’t ever remember him cooking when we lived together, but somewhere along the line the guy developed some mad skills.

The photo doesn't nearly do these exotic huevos rancheros justice. I would eat this dish any day of the week. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

He busted out huevos rancheros with fresh mango and purple cabbage; a killer combination of sweet, spicy and savory. Raven, his girlfriend Jessica and I sipped mimosas in between blissful bites. Time with Adam is synonymous with laughter as we reminisce about random hilarities from our college days. Today it was our trip to Jazz Fest in ’96 when by complete chance we passed an old friend of his who was so startled when he saw us, he lost control of his car and did a few 360’s into the grass median. We haven’t seen the guy since but hopefully he was alright.

A guy who cooks well and plays a mean guitar? Jessica seems to appreciate it. (Photo: T. Blue)

Parallel to his kitchen abilities, Adam’s guitar and vocal chops have grown exponentially over the years. I was there when he bought his first guitar over 15 years ago. Now he has this gorgeous Taylor custom acoustic which he commands with astonishing authority. Back in our apartment at Clemson, I remember him playing “Over the Hills and Far Away” constantly until it became somewhat presentable. On Friday night our friend Claire, who just moved back to San Francisco from Santa Barbara, joined us for dinner. When we got back home after a pit stop at Zam Zam Lounge in the Haight (a classic watering hole where Anthony Bourdain knocked back a few on No Reservations), Adam emerged with his art piece of an axe crafted of Macassar Ebony and treated us to a soulful late night serenade. I couldn’t believe his repertoire and the style and grace he brought to each song. He did an admirable job almost pulling off the near-impossible Robert Hunter song, “Reuben & Cherise” – one of my all-time favorites. Perhaps even more impressive were the few original compositions which elevated him to the realm of professional singer-songwriter status. “You could be playing that at the Fillmore,” Claire exclaimed as the three of us listened in awe.

I recall the April afternoon Adam first arrived in San Francisco, still wet behind the ears like a Myrtle Beach neophyte. On Saturday we followed him from his doorstep up to the top of Tank Hill where he pointed out every noticeable landmark in the 270-degree view of the city by the bay; a city which is now his. He could probably tell a funny story related to almost any neighborhood we might explore. It feels so good for me to be in San Francisco for the first time in a few years. When I moved to California just a couple weeks before Adam, I had every intention of living in San Francisco and following in Bill Graham’s footsteps. Plans changed quickly and love beckoned in Santa Barbara. Still, the connection I have with San Francisco is so palpable and over the past few days I’ve been reminded that I am as happy here as almost any city in the world.

In a city which welcomes man-love, Tyler and Adam are feelin' it atop Tank Hill (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

It’s essential to have a friend to stay with in San Francisco. This time it has been a special treat to post up in Adam’s Cole Valley house which is easily the nicest place I’ve ever stayed in the city. There are views of the hills from decks on all three levels. His taste in furniture is impeccable. Not to be understated is the ease of parking. He may want to pull his hair out on occasion, but the global marketing field has been good to Adam. Every neighborhood in this city has such a unique character but some more than others. On Friday, Raven and I took a short walk to the Castro and enjoyed the novelty of walking down one of the gayest streets in America. At the top of the block waves an enormous rainbow flag. It was a fun destination for casual shopping with plenty of cutting edge fashion, fittingly-named shops like “Rock Hard,” apropos items (a dog t-shirt at the Best in Show Pet Boutique read “I have two daddies”) and people watching to boot. Raven joked that she might have to be prepared to fight some guys off of me.

Today we drove across town to the Ferry Building which, for no good reason at all, we’ve never been to before. In the vein of Chelsea Market in New York City and Pike’s Place in Seattle (although totally different), it’s an absolute must for anyone who appreciates gourmet food and absorbing the locavore essence of a metropolis. We got there too late so our time was limited but we got to scan all the gourmet purveyors. I had been looking forward to going to Boccalone; a shop specializing in cured pork products (i.e. charcuterie) which I saw featured on the Food Network. Their signature item is a Salume Cone which is a small paper cone containing slices of three different meats; in this case prosciutto, sopressata and capicola. A striking trio of flavors indeed. I would have loved to try some of their salami and other items but they aren’t cheap. Across the way, we couldn’t resist buying a bag of raw kale chips. However, the biggest temptation of all came at the Cowgirl Creamery with its knockout selection of cheeses. Unless you go to place like this, it’s hard to find so many sheep’s milk cheeses. We picked one with a salty citrus flavor which is dangerously good.

No trip to San Francisco is complete for me without visiting the Haight. Being reverent of Grateful Dead history and one who feels a kinship with all that went down there in its heyday, that neighborhood continues to tell a story on a continuous thread rolling through time and space. I love walking the same streets that Jerry Garcia and Co. once strolled regularly when they lived at the legendary residence of 710 Ashbury. The Haight these days is pretty rough around the edges with more than its share of homeless people, druggy vibe and layer of grime, but tie-dye still pulses through its heart. This time though it was exciting to see fresh energy injected into the neighborhood’s commerce in the form of Burning Man Festival fashions, classy vintage clothing shops and a tasteful nod to the macabre at a store called Love it to Death. It was also touching to see a shrine set up in memory of Amy Winehouse.

I’ve been carrying around a completed punch card for the Blue Front Café like a winning lottery ticket which I finally cashed in for my favorite falafel. It’s hard to find exceptional falafel and these folks really have it down to a science. It’s got to be crispy on the outside, green on the inside, wrapped in fresh lavash and accompanied by tangy tahini and creamy hummus. The elements that push this one into a rarified realm are roasted eggplant and a zesty, red pepper dipping sauce. As usual, I couldn’t stop myself from forcing down those last few bites but I only have it once every couple years so how could I resist? After getting a reminder of the real deal, I can’t help but be astonished how many restaurants try to get away with selling stuff that barely qualifies as falafel. Is this reason enough for me to consider living in San Francisco? Not quite but I’ll always cherish these visits and hopefully they’ll be more frequent than they have been lately.

Posted in Blog | Tagged 710 Ashbury, Blue Front Cafe, Boccalone Salumeria, Boccalone San Francisco, Castro, Chelsea Market, Cowgirl Creamery, deadhead, falafel, Ferry Building San Francisco, Haight, Haight Street, Haight Street San Francisco, Jerry Garcia, Pike's Place | Leave a comment

The Blue Blog: Falling Deeper in Love with Oregon from River to Lake to Vineyard

Posted on August 14, 2011 by Tyler

It’s been a long time since I’ve camped four nights in a row. That sort of repeated exposure to nature makes it seep in on a cellular level. On this trip, each experience in widely variant terrain leaves a reel of snapshots in my mind. The first morning I sat on a fallen log jutting into the Metolius River, watching the rising sun illuminate the gentle ripples. The next morning I stood spellbound by the mirror image of a pine tree forest captured in a lagoon. The third morning I saw a giant bird cruising down the Rogue River, just a little too fast to reveal its mysterious identity. On the final morning, we watched a family of Native American fisherman suit up to hunt for salmon where the Klamath River meets the Pacific Ocean. The common thread on all four of these days was that each time we were faced with settling for the average but a dash of luck allowed us to skirt the ordinary. Each night fate guided us to a cherry site directly on a river or lake. During the summer without booking in advance, this is no small feat. Of course we still would have been grateful to for any sort of immersion in nature but once the standard is set, it’s hard to go back.

I liked how the Metolius River had all these little islands in it. I took this shot from the tip of a fallen log. (Photo: T. Blue)

After spending several months near Portland, it was time to head south and get a better taste for Oregon’s diverse topography. Our first destination was the aptly named campground called Smiling River in the Three Sisters Wilderness. Blanketed on each side by ponderosa pines, the Metolius River rolled through like a lazy August breeze. Driving through the valley the next morning, snow-capped mountain peaks protruded from barren, volcanic plains. I was finally about to enter the realm of Bend – a town I had been yearning to see. Our first stop was the Bendistillery – one of the most extraordinary boutique distilleries in the country. We tasted tiny swallows of all their spirits; most of which clearly stood out as exceptional products. I knew as soon as it passed my lips, the Desert Juniper Gin was probably the best gin I’ve ever had. It was so smooth, even Raven liked it. We were blown away by their infused vodkas with basil, ginger and hot peppers. We tried the Mazama Pepper Vodka in a small cocktail with mango juice and it was bewitching. Cofia – another one with coffee and hazelnut – was dangerously delicious.

Raven had been to Bend a long time ago and remembered it as a cowboy town. I guess it has come a long way since then because the whole downtown area looked very new like everything had been built in the last decade. I was immediately drawn in by the vibrant energy of the shops and the overall approachable character in general. It was bigger than I expected with more than enough going on to make it seem like a viable place to live. The main attraction is the Deschutes River winding through the town. It looked so clean and inviting as people tubed along at a mellow clip. We didn’t spend a lot of time in Bend but it was enough to know at the least that we want to go back soon and, at the most, call it home.

Morning glory on East Lake, looking down from Cinder Hill (Photo: T. Blue)

Closed roads from construction made it a bitch to get out of town and we were struggling to figure out our next camping destination. We settled on a spot called Cinder Hill which had been listed as one of the best in the state. Nestled on one side of East Lake southeast of Bend, it required a drive deep into Newberry Volcanic National Monument. When we got there, the prospects looked grim as almost every site at the large campground was occupied. Just when we were on the verge of settling, we saw a handicapped site which could not be reserved until 7 p.m. The clock read 7:02. Not only was it right on the lake, but it was huge compared to most of the others. We set up our site and admired an extended sunset accompanied by some mystifying, extra terrestrial clouds. The stars were especially electrifying that night. I was wishing my Google Sky Map app was working so I could identify the constellations.

This little mama made us laugh with her vocal antics (Photo: T. Blue)

The next morning I took a solo hike around the lake up to a vantage point to get a better view of the lake. It felt so good to climb the jagged volcanic formations and connect with the rocks. My lust for climbing continues to swell. Upon return, I took a dip to cool off and nip a bad hair day in the bud. Back at the site, Raven and I marveled upon a prairie dog (at least that’s what we think it was) living in a stump with its baby. It would emerge periodically, stand on its hind legs and emit this shrill chirping sound. We wondered what it might be saying and to whom. It was an interesting deviation from the chipmunks at all of our other destinations.

Not a bad place for a picnic, eh? (Photo: T. Blue)

From East Lake, it was an easy drive to Crater Lake. It was surprising to see so many patches of thick ice still present in that area despite the baking sun. We were thrilled to have the opportunity to use our annual national parks pass. We’ll be lucky if we have any more chances before the year is up. I pulled Crystalina over at an empty spot and we laid out a blanket for a picnic. Our rice bread from Trader Joe’s had gone moldy but we were more than content munching on sliced turkey with pickles, baby carrots, tortilla chips, mustard and New Zealand raw cheddar. A trio of Harley dudes remarked upon the beauty of our spot. It’s pretty cool how no matter who you are, the breathtaking nature of Crater Lake is bound to stop you in your tracks.

On the way up in October, one of our most memorable stops was the Rogue River Gorge which not only was stunningly gorgeous but had one of the best smells on earth; like candy-coated pine cones. We knew this might be the tallest order yet to score a campsite on the Rogue on a Friday night. Driving through Union Creek campground, there were a few passable sites but nothing on the water. Moving on down the road to Natural Bridge, fate was on our side as site #2 was there waiting for us as if it had a big bow tied around it. We were all smiles in assessing the spacious site with lots of privacy, big trees and the Rogue running through its backyard. The next site over, a group of 60-somethings were already getting rowdy, blasting Old Blue Eyes. Raven and I forced ourselves into the icy emerald river and managed not to get swept away. The campground was kindling heaven as we gathered armfuls before building our first and only fire of our four night run. Other than some chili which had a firm disagreement with me, the experience was bliss.

The Rogue River has a different personality around each bend (Photo: T. Blue)

I awoke early for a solo hike along the river; savoring the sacred silence apart from my footsteps and the flow. Virgin light illuminated the river’s altering personalities around each bend. Just a little ways up, it narrowed into an intense section of rapids rocketing through a mini gorge. The Rogue was formed out of volcanic activity; a reality which is accentuated in observing the rocks which comprise its banks. After we packed up, Raven and I ventured over to the natural bridge trail where the river’s volcanic elements came into greater focus. One cave which had formerly been a lava tube sucked in the water and propelled it out in a hypnotic sheet-like pulsation. The natural bridge is a point where the whole river is siphoned underground below a solid mass of lava rock. Any river holds intrigue but few are as dynamic as the Rogue. Plus, it has the coolest name.

Evidence of a cosmic connection between Raven and Bear - the malamute puppy (Photo: T. Blue)

Naturally as the oenophiles that we are, we couldn’t leave the Rogue River Valley without sampling some of the fruits of the vine. We started at Crater Lake Cellars where the owner and winemaker Steve Gardner generously poured about nine wines covering a wide gamut. His straightforward style leaned towards an old world proclivity. His wife’s photographs graced the labels adding a fine personal touch. There was one with an owl which used to live in a tree outside their home. We enjoyed all the wines but I think my favorite was a combination of two Rhone varietals – grenache and mourvedre if I recall correctly. The cab was awesome too. He finished us off with a port-style red which he had the good sense to complement with a piece of dark chocolate. Wine and chocolate are sexy bedfellows. On our way out, we freaked out over a pair of malamute puppies owned by a family from Portland.

Folin Cellars is an outpost of viticultural excellence which is well worth the drive (Photo: T. Blue)

Getting a totally different taste of the Rogue Valley, we ventured out into the sticks, in an area called Gold Hill, where we reached a state-of-the-art facility which is home to Folin Cellars. There we were greeted by tasting room manager – Steve – who quickly presented himself as a kindred spirit. He was so passionate about each wine and every aspect of the winery’s operations. It didn’t hurt that he was playing Jack Johnson’s always welcome “Sitting, Waiting, Wishing.” We started with the viognier which knocked our socks off with its complex minerality. He poured us several wines that weren’t on the official tasting sheet, each showcasing the estate’s impressive terroir, attention to detail and patience in bringing out the best in each varietal. Perhaps my favorite wine, the tempranillo, was a 2007. That says a lot about Folin’s approach in that they have the good taste to wait four years to pour this rich, seductive wine. Another super classy touch was their use of glass corks. Costing four times as much as ordinary corks, this is a new innovation which keeps the bottles airtight. We wished we could have afforded to walk away with a couple of cases.

From Folin it was a hop, skip and a jump back into the Golden State. Even though we had recently spent the night near LAX on the way back from Mexico, it felt significant to drive back into our old home state. After all the easy camping in Oregon it was a rude awakening when we attempted to score a site at a state park. Our fee to camp on the Rogue River was $10. The standard fee at all California State Parks: $35. Ouch! We drove through Prairie Creek State Park which was filled with gargantuan redwoods and some of the coolest sites ever, but all that was left was the dregs. We stopped in Klamath to get some fresh smoked (overpriced) salmon and contemplated forking out $91 on a cozy cabin. It just didn’t feel right as we couldn’t ignore nature’s call. We swung down a random road and found ourselves beckoned towards the Requa RV Park. It was Saturday night yet the place was practically empty. It almost seemed too good to be true (and just a little bit eerie) considering its placement right on the Klamath River where it runs into the Pacific. The office was deserted and this would be a rare night of free camping. Other than the hard, rocky ground and a few bizarrities we don’t have time to go into right now, Requa was an unexpected revelation.

We could have stood on this bridge and watched this whale for hours. Some people probably did. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

The next morning driving on the 101 just a mile south of the campground, dozens of people were perched on a bridge looking over the edge. A fellow camper named Joe who seemed like a paranoid schizophrenic had mentioned a whale swimming in the river but I figured he was delusional. Sure enough, we made our way to the center of the bridge to see a full-sized grey whale swimming in circles a 100 feet below. We’ve been whale watching before, but seeing this massive mammal from an angel’s perspective made for a surreal novelty. Probably about 50 feet long, it glided through the jade water, holding everyone’s attention with each movement. At one point when it crossed under the bridge, it was a spectacle to see the mob hustle across the street. Each person had a look of awe painted on their face.

The fishermen in the Klamath River are probably thinking, "Damn that whale! She's cleaning house."

We thought it might be sick or confused, but it appeared to be perfectly healthy and lucid. A friendly cop on the whale beat later told us it had been there for six weeks. At one point we watched it do this feeding dance where it was obviously rounding up fish by swinging its tail to create a vacuum of sorts. Strange as it may be for this ocean-going creature to set up shop in the river, I like to think it’s a little bit more cunning than the rest of the pack. What’s not to like about an all-you-can-eat salmon buffet and steady droves of admirers snapping your photo? Don’t we all want to be a bigger fish in a smaller pond?

Posted in Blog | Tagged Bend Oregon, Bendistillery, Cinder Hill Campground, Cofia Vodka, Crater Lake Cellars, Folin Cellars, Google Sky Map, Juniper Desert Gin, Mazama Pepper Vodka, Metolius River, Newberry Volcanic National Monument, Oregon camping, Rogue River, Rogue River Valley, Rogue Valley Wines, Smiling River Campground | Leave a comment

The Blue Blog: Venturing into the Mayan Jungle of Chichen Itza and the Long Journey There and Back

Posted on July 28, 2011 by Tyler

Standing in line sweating bullets at the Cancun bus station, it looked like my well-devised plan was about to fly out the window. Only one time – 14:20 – was listed for the departures to Valladolid. If we didn’t leave at 13:00, we would miss the connection to Chichen Itza, sticking us with an expensive cab ride if we could find one at all. When it was finally my turn to talk to the agent (well, “talk is a relative term given my pathetic Spanish), I realized the display board wasn’t accurate and the plan was going to work. When we first thought of using the bus system in Mexico, images of Romancing the Stone came to mind, as it seemed possible we might be sharing space with chickens and goats in some cold war-era clunker. It turned out that first class bus travel there is actually better than a lot of U.S. air travel. The ADO line of Mercedes buses are modern, well-air conditioned, the reclining seats are really comfortable and they play movies (albeit en espanol). Guys even walk down the aisle selling snacks and drinks prior to departure. Plus, the price is right.

After a two hour ride to Valladolid, we had a brief layover before hopping on another bus to make the final 50-minute stretch to Chichen Itza. A few minutes into the ride, we suddenly realized we were stopped and our driver had disappeared. Ten minutes later he reemerged all sweaty with a grim look on his face. A dreadlocked gypsy kindly relayed to us gringos that the bus was defunct and we were going to return to Valladolid and catch another one. Little did we know it would be a municipal bus which stopped every five minutes to let the locals off but we were just grateful to be headed in the right direction. Raven and I were glued to the window with intrigue seeing how these people were living so bare bones in the middle of nowhere. It’s amazing how such a large portion of the world can get by with so little and still maintain a semblance of happiness.

This photo doesn't do justice, but if you look closely you can see how massive this Ear Pod Tree is on the grounds of Mayaland Resort (Photo: T. Blue)

We got dropped off on the side of the road in a tiny town called Piste and felt fortunate to catch a cab the short distance to our hotel. Since these were the last two nights of our Mexican adventure, we figured we might as well go out in style. It was a no-brainer to stay at the Mayaland Resort & Bungalows – the closest hotel to the archeological ruins of Chichen Itza. This four-star resort has been around since 1929 and hosted many presidents, world leaders and Luciano Pavarotti. It even has a restaurant named after him. The grounds of the expansive property double as a botanical garden with exotic species of trees, plants and flowers. There is this one particularly massive specimen near the lobby called an Ear Pod Tree which is kind of like a banyan without all the hanging roots. If we forgot for a moment that we were in the jungle, the bird calls served as a constant reminder. The Spanish colonial architecture of all the structures is grand without being pretentious. We were thrilled when they upgraded us into a Royal Mayan Bungalow with a pool outside the door shared between just a few other bungalows.

This portal was one of the first things we saw upon entering the hallowed grounds of Chichen Itza (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

Aside from the beauty of the surroundings, the main reason to stay here is that Mayaland has its own private entrance into the ruins. On Thursday morning, we arranged a private tour beginning at 8. Our guide, Jaime, was a 40-year vet so there was no doubting his expertise. He spent three hours with us rather than two because he could tell we were hungry for his knowledge and couldn’t resist being thorough. Everyone had prepared us for extreme jungle heat – some in very intimidating fashion – and accentuated the importance of doing an early tour. I thought to myself, “I went to baseball camp in Miami for a few summers. Could it really compare to that?” No way. We were gifted with a partly cloudy day with a frequent breeze and the jungle heat proved to be more bark than bite. Plus, we had already been to the ruins of Coba on the front end of the trip which was much hotter than Chichen Itza. It helped that we brought umbrellas for shade when necessary.

This is part of one of Chichen Itza's 13 ball courts; only two have been uncovered. The main one, which is the largest ball court in middle American, was under construction while we were there. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

It was a luxury to tour the ruins for a few hours with hardly anyone around until the Cancun crowds began to arrive at 10:30. Even then it wasn’t the zoo that I was expecting. The most impressive thing about Chichen Itza is the shear number of structures and how they are spread across a three-and-a-half mile area. 55 structures have been restored with as many as 400 still buried by the jungle growth. The Carnegie Foundation is responsible for much of the efforts to restore the site back in the early 20s. Chichen Itza was first established around 600 A.D. as a sacred site for the Mayan culture. There isn’t evidence to assert that people lived on its grounds so it was mainly used to gather for spiritual purposes. One of the things that really disappointed me was that a majority of the structures – at least those that have been restored – were actually built by the Toltecs – a civilization which arrived here around 987 A.D. to conquer the Mayans. Their work is similar and no doubt impressive, but the intention behind it is clearly not from a place of peace or purity.

One of the nunnery annexes; every single decorative piece is in individual sculpture. Clearly the Mayans had a lot of spare time. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

Jaime explained the easy way to discern Mayan from Toltec structures is that the latter were all built with slanted walls. Also, regarding the intricate decorations applied to all the structures, the Mayans used a “high-relief” technique where every design was constructed independently as a sculpture and later attached. For the most part, the Toltecs just carved their designs into the buildings. Given the Mayan approach, it was particularly amazing to acknowledge how they achieved such perfect symmetry. One of my favorite parts were the annexes to the large nunnery which were very well-preserved and extremely detailed. The gods depicted on the walls had these big hook-shaped noses which were such heavy pieces of stone, one had to wonder how they could be supported for all these centuries. Unlike the Egyptian pyramids, the structures at Chichen Itza don’t baffle the mind when contemplating their creation. However, the savvy construction techniques are admirable in their own rite; like the way in which the back of each stone was carved into a diamond shape so it could be wedged in.

The Pyramid of Kukulkan was built by the Toltecs to honor their main god; hopefully he appreciated it (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

The star attraction of Chichen Itza is the Pyramid of Kukulkan – an homage to the primary god of the Toltec’s religion. It is nearly 100 feet high and a phenomenal site to behold. The reason we chose to go to Coba when we thought we only had time to visit one of the ruins is because people are still allowed to climb the pyramid there. It’s definitely harsh not to be able to ascend this structure. Raven brought up Stonehenge and how sites like that and Chichen Itza lose some of their energetic charge due to visitors being restricted from touching them. Perhaps these stones really do want some reciprocation rather than just being gawked at and photographed. Of course we understand the need to protect and preserve them but it’s a fine line. Interestingly, only two sides of the pyramid were rebuilt by the Carnegie Foundation as they opted to use materials from the other two sides to keep them totally authentic. We saw a photo of what it looked like before and you have to hand it to these archeologists and other experts evaluating how the structure probably looked originally and sculpting it back into that state.

One of the snake heads at the base of the Pyramid of Kukulkan (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

Snake gods were important to both the Mayan and Toltecs thus they are depicted in sculptures which run the entire length of the staircases. On the vernal and autumnal equinoxes, the sun hits the snake in such a way as to illuminate its body on the stone surface. This mindboggling example of precision alignment with the sun and seasons leaves no doubt how brilliant the calculations of these ancient civilizations were. Jaime mentioned that in 1992, 40,000 people came on September 21st to see this phenomenon. We returned later that night for the sound and light show during which the pyramid and a couple other nearby structures, like the Temple of the Warriors and the Platform of Venus, were lit with colored flood lights. It was pretty cool but I couldn’t help but think how much better it could have been with a Pink Floyd soundtrack and some lasers.

The pyramid at night during the light and sound show (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

Looking up at the stars, embracing the quiet and feeling the gentle breeze, we had more of a chance to absorb the sacred energy of the place. We were enchanted by lightning bugs darting around. I like to think they are the spirits of Mayan elders. Chichen Itza is considered now as one of the New Seven Wonders of the World. I agree that it is a dazzling site and a must for anyone to visit if they are in the Yucatan but it didn’t resonate with me in the way I thought it would. It was apparent to us on whatever intuitive level that all the pain and suffering which has occurred on this land detracts from the original spiritual intention. It breaks my heart every time I learn more about all the civilizations that were ravaged by the Spanish. Obviously there’s no real comparison between something natural versus manmade, but I feel like the nine-foot diameter Douglas Fir we saw back in June in Washington’s Dalles Campground was more of a worldly wonder to me.

A jaguar and an eagle feast upon human hearts; when the Spanish arrived later, they had never seen a jaguar before so they called them tigers (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

One of the notable things about Chichen Itza is the dozens of vendors set up throughout the site selling souvenirs. You see the same items over and over. Many of them are very nice but we only saw one purchase being made the entire time. The jaguar is another important symbol for the Mayans and it turns up in a lot of different art pieces. We were about to go crazy with all these vendors sounding off these jaguar call noise makers. Two of the most memorable design panels I saw back in the ruins depicted a jaguar and an eagle feasting on human hearts. Jaime explained the fascinating mythology of the jaguar as it represents the night’s sun.

We slipped back onto the Mayaland property and headed straight to the lunch buffet. It was quite elaborate with a dynamite selection of international, regional and Mayan cuisine. We had three different kinds of chicken and two types of fish which were all excellent. For dessert, we savored banana sorbet, super fresh papaya and churros. We made it back to our bungalow just as cracks of thunder rumbled in the distance. The skies opened and we stood in awe watching the heaviest downpour we’ve seen in awhile. There’s nothing like a rain storm in the jungle. Later that night we had an excellent farewell dinner in the hotel’s restaurant highlighted by seriously spicy, seafood-stuffed poblano chiles. Our server Francisco treated us like old friends.

Mexico had dished out more than its share of adventure, but we were so ready to get back to U.S. soil. Waiting in Valladolid the next morning for our bus to Cancun, we relished one more chance at some authentic street food. Across from the station, a woman sat behind a mound of charred banana leaves containing chicken tamales. We bought a couple of the eight-peso masa morsels which made for an awesome breakfast. It was a sharp contrast to the price gouging we are about to be subjected to at the Cancun Airport; a shameful venue of captive retail abuse. The gates aren’t air conditioned in order to push people towards the shops and restaurants.

We knew our connection in LAX was going to be tight but we had no choice but to cling to optimism. Any hope of making our flight to Portland quickly faded as we stood in a customs line which made rush hour on the 405 seem like the fast lane. It was akin to the Jungle Cruise at Disneyworld, taking ten minutes per person with only one window open, shrieking children, the guy behind us coughing and Raven and I the only Americans in a line clearly designated for residents. You can’t win ‘em all. We came dangerously close to spending the night in the airport, but thanks to the kindness of a United agent, we came away with a voucher for a nearby hotel. Even then we barely got a room as there was a major convention going on. Later that night, nursing martinis in the Hacienda Hotel’s bar while the neighborhood’s hottest salsa dancers strutted their moves on the dancefloor, we surveyed the scene and shook our heads with a smile. Even though we were back in the U.S., it felt like Mexico had managed to sneak in one more dose of the unexpected.

Posted in Blog | Tagged ADO buses Mexico, Chichen Itza, Chichen Itza sound and light show, Coba, Coba Mexico, Ear Pod tree, Luciano Pavarotti, Mayaland Resort and Bungalows, Mayan ruins, Mexican bus travel, Pyramid of Kukulkan, Romancing the Stone, Stonehenge, Toltecs, Valladolid, Yucatan Mexico | Leave a comment

The Blue Blog: Eating, Drinking and Sun-setting Our Way Through Isla Mujeres with the Mom-In-Law

Posted on July 25, 2011 by Tyler

A glance at the weather forecast provided plenty of reason for concern. For the next ten days we were looking at a 40 to 60% chance of scattered thunderstorms. If we were still back in Pacific Northwest, this would have been fine but on a tiny island like Isla Mujeres… no bueno. Plus, Raven’s mom had already booked her trip to visit from Baltimore and this isn’t a place where you can escape to the movies or a museum to pass the time. “Did we come here during the rainy season?” we wondered. Our first couple days on the island had been met with a tropical depression showing us right away that the storms here have some teeth. That feeling of, “Oh, we’re so cozy inside,” disappears with a quickness when you have to close all the windows, sealing off the precious breeze. Ironically, only when it was storming did that cross-breeze we had been promised actually blow through the house. Weather reports aren’t known for their accuracy and fortunately the ones we saw in Isla Mujeres were about as reliable as a blind assassin. Mom’s six day visit came and went with just a couple passing showers. Now she’s back in the east coast heat wave probably reminiscing about how temperate Mexico was.

Need I say more? Playa Norte from a bird's eye view. (Photo: T. Blue)

After 19 days staying at Casa Oasis taking care of two dogs and a parrot, it was quite a reprieve to check in to the Cabanas Maria del Mar. Steps away from Playa Norte, one of the prettiest beaches in the world, we suddenly felt like we were actually on vacation. Not that we didn’t enjoy the cultural experience of being immersed in a local neighborhood, but I’m not the biggest fan of sweating myself to sleep every night or perpetual dog barking. Standing under the air conditioner in our hotel room, I worshiped it like a Mayan god. Sleeping in a plush king size bed was ecstasy. Best of all, was the proximity to Playa Norte. No more taking cabs to and fro and only being able to hang at the beach for 45 minute stretches. In fact, we had so much sun, sand, sea exposure, I was more than ready to say goodbye to the beach when the time came. Raven and mom got a pair of rafts and spent a couple days baking while floating a couple feet over the sandbar. Thanks to a bit of Native American blood on her father’s side, Raven can take sun like terra cotta but her mother inevitably got a little crispy and clung to the shade as much as possible after that.

The mother-daughter duo with the Caribbean Sea painting the backdrop (Photo: T. Blue)

We felt bad because while we had a hip, modern room in a different building, she got stuck with an older, quirky room. It was small, the air conditioner was loud and there were cats right outside making a racket at all hours. One cat who must have been in heat meowed for two days straight. Stray animals are the worst problem on Isla. We didn’t realize until the last day that her bed, which was rock hard, had a crinkly, plastic cover over the mattress. I couldn’t believe she put up with it. Regardless, she had a great time. Mom was a trip playing the role of super gringo. She hardly knew a word of espanol and when we tried to teach her things, bless her heart, the pronunciations didn’t exactly roll off the tongue. There are only different levels of gringo-ness though and Raven and I weren’t too far behind.

Freddy shows Raven how you're supposed to take a real shot (Photo: T. Blue)

One night we were at our favorite bar, Soggy Peso, and the bartender asked her if she knew Spanish. When we told him no, he proceeded to spew several verses in rapid fire. Poor mom was like a deer in the headlights. But this was Freddy – one of the coolest bartenders we’ve ever met – and he loves to mess with people all in good fun. We ended up having a great rap session as he told us about the hurricanes he endured as a lifelong resident of the island. Wilma was a whopper in 2005 but no match for Gilbert back in ’88. He taught us the word for earthquake – terremoto. Later he walked around the bar with a squirt gun loaded with a run concoction which he shot into each customer’s mouth.

Everyone loves the Soggy Peso (Photo: T. Blue)

Soggy Peso serves a single dinner special every night with Sunday being the most famous thanks to their BBQ Plate. The owners – a lovable pair of ex-pats from Dallas – Mal and Sally, have it down to a science. He had a smoker built on the island which he uses to cook ribs, chicken and Polish sausage. These ribs, which are flown into Cancun from the Midwest, are fall-off-the-bone delicious. Sally makes a killer potato salad, corn and jalapeno medley and sweet corn bread. The plate, which is enough for two, is only 135 pesos, or about $13. The place is also notorious for its knockout margaritas which have a subatomic quality and could probably extract a confession from a mobster. The Peso plays mostly country music which Raven and I normally can’t stand but there it fits the mood perfectly. On our second visit they leaned towards zydeco which worked well too.

Our other favorite bar was on the opposite side of the island where the Caribbean Sea lends to a more rocky, rugged aesthetic. When we first arrived in Isla, we were hoping to rent or purchase bikes for the whole time we were there. This wasn’t possible and we were kind of bummed. When we ended up renting a pair for two days, we realized what a blessing it was that it didn’t work out. Riding regularly in that heat and humidity might have killed us. We barely made it through those two days

Villa La Bella...you get the idea (Photo: T. Blue)

One of the times when we were just about ready to become vulture food on the side of the road, we were rescued by an oasis known as Villa La Bella. The sign out front reads, “Beer so cold it’ll hurt your teeth.” Walking through the gate into an alternate universe, the only thing missing was an entourage of bikini models. We hunkered down at the swing bar and did a few double takes admiring the pool, hammocks and stylish architecture of the boutique inn. One of the owners, Curtis, walked right over and introduced himself like a host who genuinely cared. Turns out he’s from San Luis Obispo of all places. Just when we thought we had reached maximum contentment, the bartender carried out a plate of chilled aromatherapy washcloths. Is that classy or what?

One of the residents of Tortugranja (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

We returned the next day and tried the made-from-scratch pina colada. Served with shredded coconut on top and a beautiful flower emerging from the side of the coconut shell cup, this was ridiculously awesome for a mere 50 pesos. Of course we had to bring Raven’s mom when she was in town and kick it for awhile. After three weeks of taxis and bikes, we got to experience how the other half lives when we rented a golf cart for a day. It was a blast to cruise the island at will and see a few of the sites we had yet to check off our list. Tortugranja is a turtle farm where turtles are hatched and eventually released back to the sea. Much to our delight, it is also a small aquarium which has a tank of seahorses. We stood transfixed by the cute, yellow caballos del mar as they bobbed around and entwined tails. Later we had a short but sweet snorkeling session at the Hotel Garrafon beach. We’ve never seen such big parrot fish with their pretty, pink lipstick and it’s always a thrill to admire a manta ray; even if burrowed in the sandy bottom. Back on land, we observed the alpha iguana of the area – an ornery fellow with massive girth – chasing another iguana off the beach. These prehistoric creatures are everywhere on Isla but it never gets old to check them out and notice the differences of their skin tones and personalities.

Hailing from England, it makes sense that Raven’s mom likes to keep it pretty close to the vest in the culinary department. Go figure that she had fish and chips at the hotel restaurant three separate times. In the process of avoiding anything exotic, she ended up getting shafted with three bad meals over the course of her stay. Two were steaks and the other was a shrimp cocktail which resembled canned shrimp floating in a pool of thick French dressing. Wisely she sent that one back. Fortunately the good outweighed the bad. We found a place on the main strip downtown called Rooster where she and Raven indulged in Caribbean eggs benedict which came with a lobster tail. All I could do was watch as I recovered from a margarita bender. It was an overdose of refined sugar and acids which doomed me rather than the alcohol itself.

Anyone who knows tacos can take one look at this plate and have a pretty good idea how great these tacos are from Poc Chuc (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

On her last night, we returned to Olivia – one of the most respected restaurants on the island run by a hot couple from Israel. A fusion of Greek, Turkish and Bulgarian cuisine, this was a bit out of the box for mom but we knew that the moussaka would be an ace in the hole. Rich, meaty and decadent like Greek lasagna, she was skeptical until that first bite. On our last day, Raven and I knew we had to get a fix of some real Mexican food which had been mostly eluding us. We followed a recommendation to a restaurant in the middle of downtown called Poc Chuc. After blissing out on chicken tacos and enchiladas verdes, it was definitely a better-late-than-never type of feeling. There’s nothing like that spice of perfectly made verde sauce and the tortillas for the tacos were fresh and rustic as could be. Even the cabbage on the side stood out. It still amazes me how certain meals – even relatively simples ones – leave such a lasting imprint on the memory and palate. The margin between good and great is a gaping void.

Not too shabby, eh? (Photo: T. Blue)

A major bonus of staying on Playa Norte was the easy access to watching the sunset every night. It went down like clockwork at 7:30 and the three of us would meet at Buho’s swing bar to see what sort of solar art display Mother Nature had in store. Jose the bartender whipped up some mean margaritas and overly-sweet mango daiquiris while we watched the ball drop. After seeing the definitive sunset a couple weeks earlier, Raven and I wondered if it could be equaled or topped. This was not to be but we got some stellar sky shows nonetheless. How poetic that our last night was the best of our time at the Cabanas. The post-sunset effect lingered for awhile as the clouds were contrasted against a brilliant spectrum of electric Crayola streaks. It made me wonder where in the world has the most consistently gorgeous sunsets because maybe I could live there one day. Few things on this earth are as satisfying as watching the progression of a stunning sunset.

Posted in Blog | Tagged beautiful sunsets, Cabanas Maria Del Mar, Isla Mujeres, Isla Mujeres Mexico, moussaka, Olivia Isla Mujeres, Playa Norte, Playa Norte Isla Mujeres, Poc Chuc, Poc Chuc Isla Mujeres, Rooster Isla Mujeres, seahorses, Soggy Peso, Soggy Peso Isla Mujeres, Tortugranja Isla Mujeres, Villa La Bella, Villa La Bella Isla Mujeres | Leave a comment

The Blue Blog: 40 Feet Long, 36 Tons, 600 Million Years-Old – Coexisting with the Biggest Fish in the Sea and Loving Every Second

Posted on July 12, 2011 by Tyler

There’s something particularly exciting to me about observing an animal – no matter how big or small – in its natural habitat. I love watching rabbits hop through the brush, deer eating leaves off a tree and hawks on their perch waiting to swoop down at any moment. Observing sea life takes this to a whole other level because of the ability to fully immerse in their realm; this vast, open expanse of water with little separation between species. I’ve yet to try scuba diving and definitely plan to someday but there’s no substitute for the simplicity of a mask, snorkel and flippers.

No matter how many times you've seen them on TV, the first sighting of a whale shark in the flesh is humbling in many ways (Photo: T. Blue)

When Raven and I came to Isla Mujeres, we were looking forward to swimming with dolphins but little did we know what else was in store. It turns out that all summer long, one of the world’s biggest migrations of whale sharks occurs just off the coast of this tiny island. These 40-foot colossuses flock to the plankton-rich waters where the Caribbean Sea and Gulf of Mexico converge. We knew this was an opportunity not to be missed. Our friends who live here, Daniel and Manuel, hooked us up with an amigo of theirs who captains a boat. The weather had been a little spotty late last week so we weren’t quite sure if the necessary window would present itself. Saturday morning turned out to be a slice of perfection. It was just cloudy enough to stave off the full brunt of the tropical heat.

We met our captain, a jovial fellow named Miguel Valdez, down at the dock and prepared to embark. It came as a happy surprise when we realized this would be a private tour with Miguel’s son Jesus serving as the deckhand and only other passenger. It was a good thing because the boat was probably about 17-feet at most. I never found out the significance behind the name Hanny but she took a beating that day and barely batted an eyelash. It was the kind of ride which would have made a squeamish person wish they were dead. The seas were fairly rough in both directions as we sustained repeated impacts skirting the swells. I thought at one point the whole canopy foundation might fly off as a couple screws were sent rolling around the deck. Miguel, small in stature but big in heart, drove steadfast while standing on a cooler, anchoring the beam as he held on tightly. There was no staying dry on this boat but Raven and I just looked at each and smiled as we knew we were on our way to an adventure of a lifetime.

This whale shark says "Cheese" for the camera (Photo: T. Blue)

Hanny kept on going and going until over a hour-and-a-half had passed. I began to question whether we would even find the whale sharks. I mean, the Gulf of Mexico is no pond and, as immense as these fish are, maybe they were in an elusive mood. What we didn’t know is that all the whale shark boats in the area work together and head to the same coordinates. When I spotted a floatilla in the distance, I knew we had reached the zone. Sure enough, as we got a little closer, we immediately saw dorsal fins cutting through the dark, somewhat ominous water. Miguel told us it was a pod of about 10 to 20. Just our luck, one of them came up right alongside the boat, practically posing as I snapped away on Raven’s camera while trying not to get it wet. Without being given any direction whatsoever, we frantically threw on our snorkel gear and followed Jesus into the churning Gulf.

Without any communication, their is a sense of awe inherent to any whale shark encounter. This snorkeler gets up close and personal. (Photo: T. Blue)

The water looked so rough from the boat but once we were in, we adapted to the ebb and flow of the swell movements. And what had appeared practically opaque transformed into a crystal blue with the sun penetrating just below the surface. Snorkeling for the first time in awhile, I reacclimated to that sound of my own breath like returning to the womb. It took a couple minutes to find the first whale shark and for a second I thought it might be tricky, even though they were so abundant, to be in the right place at the right time to be close to them. One of the best things about snorkeling with these goliaths is that they typically stay close to the surface making them really easy to spot. Miguel would blow his red whistle or give a shout and point in the direction when he saw another one coming. Even though they are so massive, it was interesting in that I couldn’t see them until I got really close. Once I saw that first one, I hardly went more than a minute without being right next to a whale shark over the next hour.

Here you can see the graceful full-body motion which propels these giants slowly through the water. (Photo: T. Blue)

My favorite moments were when I couldn’t see them coming, turned around and then this 40-foot tanker is cruising along silently right behind me. Surreal is the word which definitely comes to mind. Another highlight was swimming in between two of them. Raven got the best taste of this as she was obviously a real magnet of attraction. In such intimate proximity, the senses are overwhelmed simultaneously with their size, beauty and profoundly gentle nature. Unlike most fish, they use their whole bodies to swim, so they move very slowly at only about three miles-per-hour. This makes them ideal snorkel companions because you can usually keep up with just a little extra flipper effort. Rules prohibit touching them or getting within six feet but inadvertently I found myself barely inches away on several occasions. It was tempting to reach out and ride one but out of respect for their environment it just didn’t seem right. It was more than enough to look into their soft, sensitive eyes, watch the fluctuations of their industrial-sized gills and admire their spotted patterns which look to me like a Maori tribal design. Whale sharks go back 600 million years and they seem to possess a collective wisdom amassed from eons swimming the Earth’s seas.

It's an all-you-can-eat plankton buffet for these whale sharks in the Gulf of Mexico (Photo: T. Blue)

One of them was swimming especially slow and I was able to follow it for a long time. I was his wingman or a tiny human shadow, gazing into his mouth to see the rapid pulsations at work while feasting upon millions of plankton. I named him Ricardo and thanked him for welcoming me into his realm. A couple times I found other whale sharks coming directly at me with mouths gaping wide and lips like Cee Lo Green. The natural human instinct is to think, “Extremely large fish headed this way coming to swallow me like Jonah!” Every time they would turn away at just the right moment like they wanted to give a thrill and also coexist in peace. I was impressed how smooth and perfect their skin was. Most of them were hosts for a few fish attached to their bodies which added an extra National Geographic quality to the visual splendor. Their bodies are so long, from afar they would often appear as two since their dorsal and tail fins are widely separated. Looking down there was nothing but endless abyss. When I later asked Miguel how deep this spot was, he kind of chuckled and just made a motion to indicate, “So deep it’s beyond calculation.”

It was finally time to go and we made the long voyage back to land. Throwing caution to the wind with our gluten and dairy-free diet, we happily wolfed down ham and cheese sandwiches on whole wheat. After exerting all that energy and sucking on salt water, this was like manna from heaven. Completely drenched, sun-kissed and grateful to the core, we anchored at a reef just off Isla’s Playa Norte where Raven and I had the chance for a very different style of snorkeling. We fought the strong current and observed schools of fish including some of our favorites like parrotfish and yellow-tailed damsel fish – a small fish with a black body and iridescent blue polka dots. Even just seeing the big purple fans, brain coral and clusters of sea anemones was enough to get my heart racing.

Nature often embodies the most beautiful forms of art. Whale Sharks are a handsome, noble species and we are lucky to have the opportunity to observe them in their habitat. (Photo: T. Blue)

We finished off the epic trip docking in the soft white sand of Playa Norte where we sucked down a few mini Sols and munched on Miguel’s homemade shrimp ceviche using multi-colored tortilla chips. Just then, a massive black cloud swirled into the picture and that cool wind we’ve come to know rippled over the water. Seconds later rain was coming down sideways as we shivered under the canopy. We had nailed the ultimate window and pulled off a dream-come-true experience which we hadn’t even known to dream about. I contemplated later whether someone could be addicted to swimming with whale sharks, like a drug. With enough money, they could do it every day all summer in Mexico and then follow them across the world to the Philippines or wherever else to keep the rush going. It would be healthier than many other habits; that’s for sure.

Posted in Blog | Tagged ceviche, Gulf of Mexico, Isla Mujeres, Isla Mujeres Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres whale sharks, Ixchel Tours Isla Mujeres, Mexico whale sharks, snorkeling with whale sharks, whale shark migration, whale sharks | Leave a comment

The Blue Blog: Stroking, Kissing, Hugging and Riding Dolphins, Plus an Island Made of Plastic Bottles

Posted on July 10, 2011 by Tyler

Almost everyone loves dolphins but the affection Raven and I share for them runs especially deep. Living in Santa Barbara for many years, we spotted them on a regular basis frolicking in the Pacific. Driving down Hwy 101, our eyes were fixed on the ocean whenever possible, hoping for a split-second glimpse. Never once did we take a dolphin sighting for granted. One of our favorite memories was a lunch at Shoreline Beach Café when they put on a show for us which lasted about 45 minutes. Several times we got to cherish the privilege of close encounters; coming within just a few feet while swimming, surfing, stand-up paddling or kayaking. We feel a kinship which goes beyond admiring how adorable and graceful they are. Their profound intelligence is combined with an eternal innocence and a mystical mythology stemming from the Chumash Indian’s Rainbow Bridge story among many others. They clearly have a lot to teach us if only we know how to listen.

Getting up close and personal with these amazing mammals is always a gift (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

No matter how close we are able to get to dolphins in the wild, there’s never an opportunity to touch them. Raven and I have always wanted to take that next step and really bond with them in a physical way. On Wednesday, we fulfilled that longtime dream at Dolphin Discovery on Isla Mujeres. This island we’re temporarily living on has one of the nicest facilities in the world for swimming with dolphins. Yes, they are in captivity which is definitely sad on some level, but the staff here does the best it can, as far as we can tell, to make their lives as happy as possible. Additionally, a facility like this brings a lot of awareness to how special dolphins are and there is information displayed on signs educating people about protecting them and other sea life. We arrived around lunch and found a scene like a Dolphin Disney World with a melting pot of tourists from around the globe converging for the same purpose. The ferries pull up from Cancun right to the dock, customers get their thrill of a lifetime and then go back on their merry way.

We were a little taken aback at first but the place actually has a really fun, beach club vibe with a pool, mini-beach, hammocks and fountains. Included in the price of our admission (which we really lucked out with thanks to Raven noticing a 2-for-1 “Dolphin Happy Hour” deal online) was a lunch buffet with quite the diverse spread. We dove into the fresh salad bar (not so easy to come by in Mexico), gobbled up some awesome fish ceviche (all of the ceviche we’d had up until then was shrimp, octopus and conch) and grilled fish with sautéed onions. We could hardly believe that an open bar was also included and the drinks weren’t skimpy. These bartenders aimed to please. This one especially cool cat named Romeli asked us when we ordered a pina colada, “Would you like that special, or very special?” Indeed it was very special. On the other side of the property was a swing bar – a popular novelty in Mexico where your bar seat is a wooden swing. Just what we need….another reason not to want to leave a bar.

Built into the rocky coastline, the dolphin pool is a large chunk of turquoise ocean made into a corral. The front part had a series of small pens where they keep the mamas and babies separate from the others until they are old enough to be trained. A neighboring pool was for people paying extra to swim with manatees and seals. Off to the side was a tank full of manta rays which we got to swim in. Their fluid movements are always a joy to observe, especially from this close. It was neat to see how they bury themselves in the sand with just their eyes sticking out. We were able to get close to a shark tank as well; gazing at them while in the water on the other side of cloudy plexi-glass.

The main pool is big enough that several groups can be in it simultaneously interacting with their respective pairs of dolphins. When it was finally our turn, we were practically quaking with anticipation. We climbed down the steps with Raven giggling the whole way, and walked out on a submerged metal grate, about waste-deep, as we were introduced to our personal cetaceans for the day, Daniel and Leah. Good biblical names for these dolphins. Raven swooned over the bilingual stud of a trainer named Pepe. We were the only English speakers in our group.

We had received some instruction on land but it was a bit overwhelming to take it all in. Fortunately Pepe told us what we needed to know before each activity. Starting things off, the dolphins swam slowly along the row of people, allowing us to stroke them. That first moment of actually finding out what a dolphin feels like was glorious. It’s pretty much what you’d expect; Very smooth in a silky-rubbery kind of way and not slimy at all. Over the course of our 50-minute session, Raven and I touched them every chance we got. We realized we could stroke their backs and bellies simultaneously which was particularly satisfying. Leah had this cute, pinkish tummy. We marveled to be able to look into their gentle eyes and admire their sharp, tiny teeth and big smiles.

Of course it would be nice if all dolphins were in the wild, unharmed by man, but if they have to be in captivity, they could do a lot worse than Isla Muejeres' Dolphin Discovery (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

We dove right in to the realm of dolphin intimacy as each person had their turn to kiss the dolphins. I savored a slow, lingering smooch with Daniel. Raven joked later that I didn’t mind having a gay encounter with a dolphin. Any time! Next we got to cradle them in our arms like babies and hug them. Raven snuck in another kiss while she was at it. We wished this part could have lasted for much longer. Raven asked Pepe if they had a special one-hour snuggle program. After holding their flippers and raising a ball to their nose, the action turned up a notch. Each person took turns swimming about a hundred feet out and waiting with arms extended like wings. On command, the dolphins swam underneath, swung around and knew to place their dorsal fins on a dime so we could grab them with each hand. I held on tight with a huge smile on my face while being towed forward by the tandem. It was like something out of a Poseidon fantasy. I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw something similar on Scooby Doo around ’85.

One of the other fun interlude was a group water fight with the dolphins. I think they let us win. The grand finale was called the foot push. For this we swam out even further and got in an aerodynamic position with hands forward like Superman and legs extended back with locked knees. I was the first to go so I was a little nervous. Amazingly, Daniel and Leah each put the tip of their nose right on the balls of my feet, propelling me forward and out of the water. Soon I was standing up, practically using these dolphins as water skis. I wish I had the photo so you could see the look on my face. We knew they would be expensive to purchase but the cost of $25 a pop or $100 for a package was downright laughable. Fortunately we have those images lodged in our memory banks.

The foot push was one of the more exhilarating rushes Raven and I have ever felt. We wanted to do it again immediately. I wish everyone I know could experience this. Our dolphin time concluded with another petting session followed by the pair doing a trio of jumps right in front of us. Watching them jump from so close gave us an increased appreciation for how naturally these amazing animals are able to launch themselves out of the water. They were surely tired but Pepe fed them fish throughout so we felt like they couldn’t have been too bummed. We figure they probably enjoy being hugged, kissed and pet while soaking in so many overwhelmingly positive emotions. Plus, there is no doubt that an experience like this with dolphins can be profoundly healing for some people; maybe in ways they might least suspect.

This isn't what most people have in mind when they think of the romantic vision of living on an island but you gotta hand it to this guy for being creative. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

We decided to walk home which gave us a chance to see the posh haciendas and various accommodations on a road we had yet to explore. On the other side of the road was a canal where many deluxe yachts were docked. Categorized under eccentric, impressive and ecological, we took a moment to observe a bizarre site known as Joysxee Island (“x” in Mexico is pronounced like “sh”). The island floats probably about 30 feet offshore and has been constructed on a base of fruit sacks filled with 120,000 re-used plastic bottles. They are tied to the underside of re-used wooden pallets which are covered with plywood, earth sand and rocks. Built atop this eco foundation is a two-story gypsy-type home with all these tented rooms where some guy actually lives. He’s got room for guests too. Apparently the island is being expanded as we saw a stack of fruit sacks ready to make some more solid ground. Maybe he’ll put in a racquetball court. The earth is getting too crowded so perhaps this revolutionary concept is one we’ll be seeing more of in the coming years.

Posted in Blog | Tagged Dolphin Discovery, Dolphin Discovery Isla Mujeres, dolphin foot push, eco concepts for land expansion, hugging dolphin, island on plastic bottles, Joysxee Island, kissing dolphin, playing with dolphins, swimming with dolphins, swing bar | 1 Comment

The Blue Blog: 25 Thoughts and Observations from Isla Mujeres, Mexico

Posted on July 7, 2011 by Tyler

1) Mexico has a unique 2nd world balance. Sacrifices like not being able to flush toilet paper or drink tap water make it seem third world. On the 1st world side of the equation, there’s a truck which comes by everyday delivering bottles of fresh water. Then there are the unexpected technological advancements like last week I rode in a cab and the driver was playing music through a USB flash drive.

2) Even people who don’t speak English love listening to American music. But it’s rarely anything from this century. We find ourselves laughing as we get in the cab to hear oldies but goodies like “Eye of the Tiger,” “Invisible Touch” or the Soundtrack from Grease.

3) When cabs don’t have meters, it’s hard to find consistency with the fares. We’ve been charged anywhere from 11 pesos ($1) to 40 pesos for similar distances. Either way, it’s still pretty cheap. One of the “only in Mexico” things is that there are never any qualms about sharing cabs. Drivers don’t hesitate to stop for a second fare and you just have to move over and make room.

4) Apparently missionaries were quite successful down here. Catholicism reigns. We can often hear singing coming from the church near our house. As far as I can tell though, the religious mindset here has a more innocent, accepting tone than in America.

Even if the locals don't have much money, they never have to go far for a view like this. Maybe that's one of the reason's they're so happy. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

5) The locals on Isla Mujeres are very friendly. Almost everyone says, “Hola” or “Buenos Tardes,” and we’ve never felt looked down upon as gringos.

6) Cheap traveling in Mexico is still possible to some extent but mostly it’s a thing of the past. Much to our disappointment, restaurant prices in particular are often on par with Santa Barbara. Lobster season just started and most places average between $35 – $40. Bummer! However, we’ve sought out the local places and found excellent ceviche and fish filets for around $5-$7 USD.

A traditional Mayan preparation for seafood called Tikinxik which involves roasting fish over an open fire for about 45 minutes; this meal for two at Playa Lancheros cost less about $9. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

7) Our two favorite preparations for fish we’ve had so far are ajillo (a tangy red sauce with a gentle smoky spice brought on by guajillo chiles) and mojo de ajo (minced garlic in olive oil). We shared a fish filet mojo de ajo the other night at Velazquez for 70 pesos and couldn’t believe how delicious it was. Good thing Raven and I both love garlic equally.

Some outings in Mexico can take a turn for the unexpected. We went out for a few al pastor tacos and decided to sit down at a bar the other night for one drink. The bartender proceeded to give us three free shots of tequila over the course of the 45 minutes we spent there. They had a huge bottle of tequila on the bar filled with scorpions which had been drowned in the liquor. He tried to get us to eat one but we’re not that crazy. This place, La Argentina, was playing classic VH1 videos which really complemented (and contrasted) the mood. We both got a little choked up with “Papa Don’t Preach.” Later at Velazquez, they gave us another gratis shot of tequila which the server slammed down on the table to make it fizz.

9) It’s inspiring to see what a great mood a lot of people are in on the island. We were walking down the street the other day, mid-afternoon, and this golf cart full of people were singing together at the top of their lungs.

10) During almost every meal we’ve had at places on the beach, we’ve been approached by wandering guitar minstrels who want to play music for tips. We always politely decline. One afternoon, at a place called Sunset Grill, this table of patrons took them up on the offer. The head of the table, a handsome fellow who looked like a Mexican Richard Gere, took lead vocals while these guys played along and it was a pure, spontaneous, magical moment. They were so polished, it was like they had rehearsed. Mexi Gere had one of the most beautiful voices we’ve ever heard as he belted out these love songs that would have made women melt. He had this ultra suave approach where he would do these interludes before or during a song which sounded like he was telling a story. I wish I had recorded it.

11) One of the hardest, saddest things about the island is all the stray animals. We see dogs and cats everywhere we go. Surprisingly most of them appear to be in relatively good shape. Either they live off the generosity of restaurants or they’re good foragers. Probably a little of both. The other day this one adorable black lab type followed us for almost a mile before we got in a cab. Many restaurants have resident cats which do their best to work the patrons for some table scraps.

12) The first few days we were here, there was a tropical depression in the area and the rain came down in sheets. Since then we’ve had hardly any rain until today. Rain and clouds are our friend here as they keep it cooler. The nearly constant temp in the mid-80s with 97% humidity makes it feel like the high 90s. However, I’ve yet to experience anything quite like the suffocating, spirit-breaking South Florida humidity I grew up with. After three seasons mostly spent in the Pacific Northwest, it’s nice to sweat again.

13) As you probably know, the US has some of the ugliest money in the world. Like most foreign money, Mexican Pesos are very attractive. Especially the 100s which have this transparent window in one corner shaped like an ear of corn. Good luck counterfeiting that. It still is a trip to us paying in these huge increments which are only 1/11th of the US value.

You know what they say about a picture being worth a thousand words...(Photo: Ravena Blumara)

14) We saw the most breathtaking sunset we’ve seen in a long time two nights ago. We had almost left the beach when I turned around to see it and we hustled us back to the shore. It came about quite suddenly as the horizon transformed into a fiery pinkish-orange canvas. A couple we met from Dallas who come here every year around this time said it was one of the best they’ve ever seen.

15) Even though the island is only about five miles long and around half a mile wide, we feel like we’ve only scratched the surface. All the sides have a different feel. The eastern side with the Caribbean Sea is a lot more rugged with strong currents and not good for swimming. There is a small site of Mayan ruins on the south end we are looking forward to checking out.

16) We hoped it would be easy to rent or buy bikes while we’re here but both options are too expensive. That’s why we’re resigned to hoofing or cabbing it. We’ll rent bikes for a couple days soon. The main form of transportation for locals is mopeds. Given how safety conscious people are in the US, it’s funny to see these folks with no concern whatsoever like a mother I saw the other night driving with three small children crammed on. Most people don’t even hold on.

17) Isla Mujeres is nowhere near as touristy as Playa Del Carmen but of course tourist dollars are still the primary source of income for locals. Walking down the main street of Hidalgo, an attractive cobblestone stretch with a European feel, we are solicited on both sides by restaurateurs doing what they can to reel us in. We don’t respond well to pressure, thus typically gravitate towards the out-of-the-way spots where the locals go. Cockteleria Minino’s, near the ferry dock, has already become our regular haunt where we eat cheap and well with feet in the sand.

18) It was pretty depressing the first few times going to the grocery store. The options are painfully limited; especially after getting spoiled with New Seasons in Portland – one of the best grocers in the world. Now we’ve come to make the most out of the limitations and embrace a simple diet with a lot of chicken, rice, beans, basic veggies and fruit. The papayas and bananas make for an extremely satisfying breakfast. We have a bbq and I’m gradually becoming a pollo maestro on the grill. The Super Express is just a three block walk away. When I went last night, they were playing “Imagine.” Usually they play hip hop. Fortunately groceries are very affordable unlike many islands like Hawaii for example.

19) I still haven’t had the amazing, traditional Mexican food I expected in coming here. Surely it will happen soon but mostly it’s just been the seafood preparations which have wowed us. Salsa is also a strong point. Even stuff in cans and little cartons in the grocery store are top notch. Although, you have to watch out. Early on, I had some overly fresh jalapeno salsa at one restaurant and my gringo ass got taken to school.

Basking in the blissful calm of Playa Norte (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

20) Our favorite beach to swim at is a stretch called Playa Norte. It’s really shallow so you can walk out far and just sit on the bottom. It has this fine, sugary white sand. The water is a pale sea green. I’ve been pleasantly surprised that the water temp isn’t too high. It’s actually quite refreshing and even on the cool side on occasion.

21) The house we are taking care of, Casa Oasis, is all walled in like a compound. It has a lovely garden up front where we like to eat our dinners. There is a small inflatable pool (about eight feet in diameter) which has been our saving grace. We’re in it usually three times a day. The rooftop has a steady breeze and a view of Salina Grande – a large salt lake which used to be a primary source for Mexico’s salt. We got a kick out of hanging our laundry on a clothes line for the first time in many moon as there is no dryer. Unfortunately the house doesn’t get much of a cross-breeze but we survive thanks to fans in every room and wearing as little clothing as possible.

22) The animals we are taking care of are very sweet. Gypsy is a medium size mix with an adorable smile. Bijou is a young poodle mix who is especially spunky and loves to lick us constantly. We aren’t poodle people but this one has won us over. Both dogs were rescued here on the island. They never leave the property so it’s kind of interesting not to have the responsibility of walking them. Lolita is a green parrot with a few cancerous tumors bursting from her breast. It looks gnarly but she doesn’t reveal any discomfort. She’s mostly pleasant although she does squawk a lot on occasion; especially when she is lonely or I am jamming Phish too loud. Often she sounds like R2D2 with these robotic type noises. The only thing I’ve heard her say is, “I’m Lolita.” Raven is trying to teacher her, “I am yummy.”

23) We were a bit spooked when we found out that the husband of the woman whose house this is, died tragically on the property seven years ago when he fell off of a ladder. His ashes are contained in a concrete urn shaped like a Mayan pyramid in the garden. Raven and I both dreamed about him the first night we were here. When she saw his photo, he looked just like he did in her dream.

24) One thing we didn’t plan for is how noisy our neighborhood is. This is the local’s area called the Colonia and there is a practically nonstop buzz of activity. Dogs bark day and night. Starting at 7 a.m. a guy selling fresh corn tortillas rides by on a bike every half hour honking an obnoxious horn. I want to stick that horn where the sun doesn’t shine. The gas circles the neighborhood everyday playing a voice recording along with some weird music. A golf cart with a big loudspeaker makes its rounds playing a recording which sounds like it must be a political statement; I’m guessing for an upcoming election. I should probably ask somebody. Children don’t seem to have much of a bedtime here as I can always here them shouting and playing late at night. Music blares perpetually. The first morning I heard a rooster crow but haven’t heard it since. Maybe a cat got him.

25) Beautiful as the island is, it’s a shame how many unfinished structures there are. This seems to be a theme throughout Mexico although I only have Baja as a personal point of comparison. You’ll see these huge foundations which clearly had major aspirations behind them and either the builders ran out of money or something occurred to halt the plans. You can’t accuse the workers here of laziness though. They were doing this project last week to tear out a long stretch of sidewalk and replace it with fancy flagstone. In America this probably would have taken weeks with the way workers tend to loll around. Here it took two days. Isla has its blemishes but it’s a colorful place full of old world character and charm. It’s easy to see why so many people love it.

Posted in Blog | Tagged Cockteleria Minino's, Isla Mujeres, Isla Mujeres Mexico, Mayan recipes, Playa Lancheros, Tikinxik fish, Velazquez Isla Mujeres | Comments Off

The Blue Blog: A Sweet Farewell to the Pacific Northwest

Posted on July 2, 2011 by Tyler

Before getting up to speed on our present existence here on Isla Mujeres where we are basking in the thick Caribbean heat and adjusting to a very different way of life, I can’t quite feel complete without wrapping up our last week in the Pacific Northwest. One of the things we often take for granted in the U.S. is the variety of foods available for any given meal. When a bunch of food savvy people get together for a potluck bbq, things can get downright excessive…in a good way of course. On a warm day in the North Seattle suburb of Shoreline, a few dozen people congregated for such an occasion which could have made a medieval king blush. We were celebrating the recent graduation of the host, Doug, and saying goodbye to Nate, who was taking up his anesthesiology residency in Burlington, VT. I hadn’t seen Doug for probably about six years and forgot how much I like this guy. A hardcore surfer, he was getting ready to depart for Nicaragua which gave me vicarious pleasure being that I’ve been a fish out of water for a couple years now.

The judging panel looking serious as they sample some "White Trash Ho Hos" (Photo: T. Blue)

Instead of just having a bbq, Doug, his partner Gea and Co. decided to throw a dessert contest into the mix. A panel of judges was recruited and faced with the daunting task of sampling and rating 17 desserts. I practically felt the onset of diabetes just considering this feat. The entries were all over the map from white chocolate croissant bourbon bread pudding to seven-layer bars to some sort of outrageous creation called Nipples of Aphrodite which had been mailed overnight. Somehow the judges managed not to die of sugar overload and elected Doug’s mom the winner for her chocolate bundles baked in a flaky dough. It was sweet tooth heaven for the guests as they could sample most of the desserts laid out in a little elf’s cottage. Blasphemous as it may have been, I didn’t have a bite as I was too busy filling up on seaweed and Asian cabbage salads as I clung to my dietary restrictions. Boring, I know.

Think whatever you want about raw foods but don't tell me you wouldn't dive into these enchiladas. (Photo: T. Blue)

Just down the street from where we were staying taking care of Jake the dog in West Seattle (who we miss), there was a restaurant called Chaco Canyon Café. This place was a health nut’s nirvana with vegetarian and vegan fare which actually didn’t sacrifice in flavor. Raven and I have always been enamored with the raw food movement but have never gone too far with it because it takes too much damn prep time and money to whip up a gourmet meal. So when we see options like raw enchiladas or raw pesto “pizza” at a restaurant, we’ve got to give ‘em a try. Dishes like this involve sprouting seeds and nuts, crushing them and rolling the mixture together to substitute for tortillas or pizza crust. Both of them were on the money and so visually appealing. It sure would be glorious to have access to high vibrational food like this all the time. Chaco made its own kombucha too with a different flavor of the day. This mushroom-cultured beverage isn’t my cup of tea but Raven loves it and this ginger-lime version was as good as it gets.

Seattle has some stellar restaurants but Portland’s culinary scene takes it behind the shed for a thorough ass whoopin’. However, when it comes to seafood, Seattle has the last laugh. Everyone knows about Pike’s Place Market with all its stalls lined up selling every form of fish and shellfish. Somehow it took us until our last week in town to discover the city’s other claim to fame in the realm of seafood Meccas. Uwajimaya is an Asian Supermarket on steroids with three different locations in the Seattle area (I’m shocked and disturbed to have just learned that Portland’s suburb, Beaverton, has one too.) This is the one-stop shop for most anything Asian and/or seafood-related all under one massive roof. The entry way has a small food court with offerings from all the main Eastern cultures. Then you walk into this mini-Costco of sorts which made our heads spin with a mindboggling selection of goods for cooking, living, gifts or otherwise.

It was a mission to satisfy a major uni craving which brought us to Uwajimaya. We have become serious sea urchin connoisseurs over the past couple years starting at the best sushi bar in the Santa Barbara area – Sakana. The thought of this, let alone the mustard-colored brain-like appearance – is surely something most people would rather live a long life without any firsthand experience. To us, uni’s seduction lies in its elegant, delicate flavor like a pure burst of oceanic essence combined with a creamy texture. Eyeing past all the affordable, sushi-grade fish (when’s the last time you saw a piece of ivory salmon?) which we would have an absolute field-day with if we lived up there; we snatched our sacred package of uni and made off like bandits. Later that night we savored it as slowly as possible, nestled in dried nori wrappers; almost every bite accompanied by moans of ecstasy.

On our way out of Seattle on a cloudy Sunday, we didn’t know exactly what to do. The plan had always been to camp near Mt. Rainier but the weather forecast didn’t look good so we were almost resigned to arriving in Portland a day ahead of schedule. Raven, bless her intrepid heart, called an audible just in time for me to swing Crystalina down scenic highway 12. Putting off any stress involved with preparing for our trip to Mexico, it was immediately apparent we had made the right decision. Listening to Phish, cruising along the White River, we passed a village of fireworks merchants with amusing names like No Finger Neal’s, Freddy Kaboom’s and Safe-Insane. I can only imagine what a madhouse that area is this weekend. It was early in the evening so we knew there wasn’t time to make it through Mt. Rainier National Park. Thank goodness for those little tent triangles on the road atlas to provide guidance when in doubt. Raven threw a dart at the Dalles Campground and we continued deeper into the hills.

A happy bump on a log (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

After stocking up on firewood and a few supplies in a town by the euphonic name of Enumclaw, it started drizzling. The updated forecast said the rain would hold off but we were feeling just a tad bit wary. There would be some more sprinkles but the skies were merciful and left just a friendly reminder that this was the Pac NW after all. Arriving at The Dalles, we smiled at each other with the acknowledgement of entering another riverside camping paradise. We took an extended amount of time deciding on our site since we could. Site 34 won by a nose since it offered the maximum tree envelopment and a tent spot closest to the river bank. There’s nothing like going to sleep and waking up to that gurgling, frothing sound of a quickly-moving river. The site turned out to be even cooler than initially thought as there was this humongous fallen tree which laid over the river; allowing me to walk along its surface and enjoy some moments of contemplation with the water rushing inches beneath my feet.

Tree hugger and proud of it! Now that's what you call girth! (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

Little did we know when Raven picked the Dalles, it was home to a historic landmark which is more than worthy of a visit unto itself. Walking to the edge of the campground, we crossed a little bridge over a tiny creek and found ourselves at the foot of one of the most gargantuan living beings we’ve ever seen. According to the sign, this was a 700 year-old Douglas fir standing 235-feet tall and an absolute you-have-to-see-it-to-believe-it nine-feet in diameter. There were burn marks evident a little ways up the trunk which reflected a massive fire that wiped out the surrounding grove 300 years ago. This explained why this Adonis towered over its neighbors. We both hugged the tree and felt shear awe being in the presence of something so old and deeply rooted which had stood steadfast in this grove while the world changed around it. Uplifting, positive energy emanated through the bark. I love redwoods more than the average guy, but there was something different and extraordinary special about this doug fir. Hopefully that tree will still be there 700 years from now.

Skookum Falls - a waterfall perhaps deserving of a prettier name (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

Now that we can only drink bottled water here in Mexico, I have an even greater appreciation for the fresh mountain water we guzzled freely at the Dalles. After visiting the tree again the next morning, we set out for Portland, via Mt. Rainier National Park. A stone’s throw down the road from our campground, we were greeted by the 250-foot tall Skookum Falls cascading down a lush cliff side. We hoped this would be just one of many waterfalls to see on this ride but I guess there are several more on another pass which wasn’t open yet due to lingering winter weather. Ironically, it was also disappointing that there was no fee to access the park because we purchased an annual pass in Yosemite back in October and would have loved another punch on the card.

Seen from Seattle, it appears like an apparition; up close on a day like this, Mt. Rainier shows its softer side (Photo: Ravena Blumara)

The climate around Rainier can be quite volatile which is why it’s rarely visible during much of the year. Whenever it appears in the distance from Seattle, we always stop and stare. Arriving at the first clearing, we pulled over to take in the breathtaking enormity of the peak under a cloudless, bluebird sky. From this intimate perspective, it actually appeared smaller and less imposing. Completely caked in the frosty, white stuff, it looked like a much larger version of one of the desserts from Doug and Gea’s party. Thinking of all that snow right now as I sweat in steamy Mexico is a very soothing image.

Posted in Blog | Tagged Chaco Canyon Cafe, Enumclaw, fireworks in Washington, massive doug fir, Mt. Rainier, Mt. Rainier National Park, raw enchiladas, raw food movement, Skookum Falls, The Dalles Campground, uni, Uwajimaya, Uwajimaya Seattle, White River, White River Washington, Yosemite | Leave a comment

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