Mountains and wildflowers in Hidalgo state

Colorful staircase in Pachuca

This weekend, we  took a little getaway to the state of Hidalgo, which borders the state of Puebla (which is where I am currently hanging out, avoiding Trump's America and the hordes of fans that stalk me at home, demanding a sequel to BreakupBabe).

You don't hear about Hidalgo much. Which is probably a good thing - it's not in the news for drugs and violence. It's also definitely not on the gringo tourist trail, and perhaps not much on the Mexican tourist trail, except for  people who live nearby.

But I was looking for a place to go over Thanksgiving break that wasn't far and that would serve up some nature - something that's sorely lacking here in the traffic-choked city of Puebla. More than anything when I'm here, I miss the green spaces of Seattle, the lakes, the Puget Sound, the snowy peaks (sob).

And so, on Thanksgiving Day, we bound a bus for the city of Pachuca. The capital of Hidalgo state, it's not too famous for much of anything except soccer and "pastes" (aka Cornish pasties), both brought by Cornish miners who went there to work the silver mines in the 1900s.

We did stuff ourselves with pastes,  but what we enjoyed most in Pachuca was "Las Palmitas." It's a once-sketchy neighborhood perched on a hillside that - thanks to a community effort - was turned into one big eye-poppingly colorful mural. (The Guardian published an article about it a few years ago).

We were the only ones around

You'd expect such a pretty place to be full of tourists, but we were the only ones wandering around taking pictures. (In fact, we were practically the only ones wandering around at all).

And one resident, when she saw me take a picture, got very grumpy and started ranting about how I shouldn't take pictures because I didn't live there, and the neighborhood belonged to the people who did.

This has never happened to me before in Mexico, but then again, I guess I'm usually in more touristy places. You'd expect this place to be more touristy. If Las Palmitas was, say, in a neighborhood in San Francisco, CA, it would be  packed with tourists drinking $8 lattes, $15 glasses of wine, and buying t-shirts.

Mural in Comuna 13, Medellin

In fact, it reminded me of a similar - but much more vibrant -  neighborhood I visited last year in Medellin called "Comuna 13". Comuna 13 also used to be a violence-ridden place until the Colombian government cleaned it up (ahem, using some violent methods of their own). Now it's a safe, bustling neighborhood bursting with murals, souvenir shops, and people taking pictures.

 In any case, there were no lattes or souvenir shops to be found, just empty, colorful streets - a little on the haunting side in their loneliness.

Into the mountains to Mineral del Chico

After a night in Pachuca, we hopped on one of the passenger vans that ferries people up into the mountains. After a sinuous 40-minute drive, we arrived in the picturesque mining town of Mineral del Chico. It's one of Mexico's mostly recently-designated pueblos magicos - or "magic towns."

What makes this one "magic?" Well, it's got a beautiful old church, of course. It's also set in the middle of a national park, which means that many of the vistas from the town included striking rock formations and acres of forest.

And luckily, we found the perfect hike to do amidst this wilderness. I say "luckily" because it's not always a given that you'll find such things as "maps" in a national park in Mexico. In fact, there were no maps to be found in Mineral del Chico, but there was a bright red information booth, and even though it opened late (eye roll), there was a friendly person in there who dispensed advice.

This guy enjoyed the view too

We hiked up and up, first to a mirador called La Pena del Cuervo, which offered a 360-view of the surrounding scenery and the valley below. Then, encouraged by a friendly Hidalgo couple we met there,  we hiked up further to an abandoned lookout, which we had to ourselves and which was surrounded by wildflowers.

I was so excited to see wildlflowers! I thought I'd seen the last of them in August, when I hiked at Mount Rainier. But no, here they were in late November, and suddenly, for the half an hour that I wandered around on this little peak, surrounded bursts of white, yellow, and red flowers, I felt at home for the first time since I came to Mexico over a month ago. 

That alone made the trip worth it.

Not that the trip was difficult. It just had minor annoyances, like trips tend to do. But they were so minor they are not even worth going into (much as I'd like to bitch about the couple that was constantly having sex above us in our otherwise peaceful lodging in Mineral del Chico. I mean, people, once a week is enough for most couples. Do you really need to be having sex several times a DAY?).

So, instead, I won't gripe. I'll leave you with this image. Mountains. Flowers. Sunshine. Blue sky. Much as I miss for Seattle and long for it when I'm gone, you're certainly not gonna find a scene like this there in late November. Viva Mexico! 

Monarch butterflies in Michoacán

A couple weeks ago, I went to see the monarch butterflies in the mountains of Michoacán, Mexico.

Ever since I was a little kid, I've had a thing for butterflies. That's because my favorite memories involve chasing them across the wildflower-choked meadows of the Sierra mountains in northern California when my family backpacked there every summer.

The monarchs here can be elusive. If you arrive before the sun is high in the sky, they might still be sleeping in the trees, clustered together with thousands of their butterfly friends for warmth. Or if it's a cold day, they might never really leave the trees.

But if it's a warm and sunny day like the one we were lucky enough to have, then you're treated to the sight of them swooping through the air like little orange fairies with the bright blue sky above.

I've always related to butterflies (I have three of them tattooed on my back, in fact), but even more so now that I've migrated to Mexico temporarily too.

We stayed at a little hotel called JM's Butterfly B&B, which I really liked (except that all the other guests were Americans, and I don't know when I got so snobby about other Americans, but I realized while I was there that they talk really loudly, and that they also never stop talking).

From this scenic and tranquil spot, you hoof it up on horseback or foot to about 10,000 feet, where - if you're lucky - the butterflies will be busily flitting about. And your mouth falls open at the first sight of them, and maybe you cry, and you wander about in a daze for the next couple hours, taking pictures, listening to the delicate whisper of their wings, and feeling really grateful.

Then you come back for tequila shots at sunrise, and eat wine-laden dinners with the other friendly but LOUD Americans  and later go to sleep with ALL your clothes on the pretty but unheated rooms.

Meanwhile, the butterflies go back to sleep together in the trees, thousands upon thousands upon thousands of them, fighting off the nighttime chill until the sun prompts them to open their wings again.

A love letter to my left knee

Me and left knee right before fateful tree collision

Dear Left Knee, we've had many great adventures together.

We made it to the top of Mount Rainier and the bottom of the Grand Canyon. We hiked the Wonderland Trail. We completed a triathlon and a couple half marathons. We biked across the state of Washington. We ran away from a bull on Maui. We climbed a 250-foot tall Douglas Fir.

 The list goes on.

But all that fun has come with a price. You’ve always been touchy. Even back in 9th grade, when I first started running cross-country you would easily get sore. Later when I tried to train for a marathon, you balked. No likey run more than 8 miles!

Still, you were a good sport with most everything else. You hiked, you climbed, you skied, you biked, you walked the dog. And you didn’t really complain seriously. Until 2011. When I skied into a tree.

OK, I know, that was dumb! And totally unnecessary because I was already down the hard part of the hill and had just gotten cocky!

 But you recovered even from that, or at least you seemed to. And everything was just fine until I decided to revisit my childhood dream of horseback riding. (Because of course hiking and backpacking and swimming and skiing and biking and Yoga and working full time and writing a novel and learning Spanish and taking guitar lessons just aren’t enough activities for me).

 And one day, early in my lessons, I jumped off just a little too hard. I landed funny. And you pretty much gave up the ghost then even though it took a few more months and an MRI for me to realize it.

Left Knee, do you remember how when I was 13, we used to do horse vaulting at camp? How my “signature” trick was to run alongside the horse, mount it at a trot, dismount, then mount again, all while the horse was trotting?

We were young then. But now we’re not. And you need help after all the good times you’ve given me. That’s why soon you’ll be getting a new ACL (or anterior cruciate ligament). It won’t actually be NEW so much as it’s actually a gift from my left hamstring. (Hey Left Hammie, shout out to you!)

 This isn’t going to be much fun, Left Knee. It’s gonna hurt and we’re gonna be seriously hampered in our hedonistic pursuit of outdoor adventure for a few months. But they say it’s for the best. That we’ll be almost like new afterward, and can have many more years of activities together.

So, Left Knee, I guess this is both warning to you about what’s to come and also a love letter. I want you to know how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me over my life. I’m truly sorry that I haven’t expressed it before, but better late than never, right? Xo Rebecca

Backpacking Greenwater River and Echo Lake

Yay, wilderness! It has been too long since I backpacked into thee, bearing much too heavy of a pack, and returning home with blisters and mosquito bites. Thank you Echo Lake and Greenwater River  for welcoming us with mostly sunny skies and no mouse attacks in the middle of the night.

Dave crosses the Greenwater River

At Echo Lake

Trail with wildflowers

More Echo Lake

2013 in photos

I take so many trips it's hard to keep track of them all. I try to be good about organizing my photos and writing in my journal, but it doesn't always happen. Sometimes I write about my trips for magazines. That's a good thing because then they don't feel so ephemeral.

Where have I been in 2013? As usual, most of my travel is in the northwest, but what a place to explore! I've ridden horses on a southwest Washington beach, climbed a 200-foot Douglas fir tree in central Oregon, mountain biked in the jungle on Oahu and the deserts of Tucson, and explored the Greenwater River and Skookum Falls in Washington. Let's not forget ski trips to Lake Chelan and Mount Rainier! Most of the time with my usually-smiling husband Dave, but sometimes with other adventurous friends.

While this has been one of the saddest years of my life, it has been happy in many ways. As you can see from the photos below, which are just a very few snapshots from this busy and bittersweet year.

Oahu in March

Washington in May

Washington in May

Suntop Lookout, WA in March

Mt Rainier in April

Greenwater River, WA in June 

Greenwater River, Wa, in June

Tree climbing in OR, May 

Weddings, kitchen appliances, and ex-boyfriends

Breakup Babe ties the knot

Whoa! A lot has happened in the last few months.

I got married.
I went on a honeymoon.*
I became the proud owner of many shiny new stainless steel kitchen appliances and intimidatingly spotless pots and pans.**

*As an idealistic college intern at the Peninsula Times Tribune, I wrote wedding announcements and snobbily thought it was sooo unoriginal when people went on their honeymoons to Hawaii or Mexico because EVERYONE went on their honeymoons to Hawaii or Mexico. Flash forward two decades later and where do I go on my honeymoon? Kauai! (And it rocked!)

Snorkeling in my own private tidepool

**Kitchen appliances are fantastic presents of course, but read here about how one of my most creative friends made our truly original engagement gift by hand!

Planet of the Ex Boyfriends coming soon to a theater near you
In other news, I found an excellent director to work with me on my short film, Planet of the Ex Boyfriends (PTEXB). Now I'm gearing up to raise money so we can produce it. You'll be hearing more about this soon!

Finally, I'm also getting ready to teach one of my favorite classes at one of my favorite places. Roughing It: Write a Draft of Your Book in Just Six Weeks starts next week at Richard Hugo House. Shit*y rough drafts, here we come!

Aurevoir for now,
Rebecca

Watch out, Michael Phelps!

It's go-time at GLOWS 2010

This weekend I successfully completed the 1/2-mile course of Greenlake Open Water Swim. Yay me!

My major goal was to complete it without being rescued by  "the boat of shame." My other goal was to come in under 25 minutes, which I also achieved. I finished the race in a blindingly fast 22 minutes and 57 seconds, and that included a lot-of time-wasting maneuvers in the water such as waiting around for the nearest lifeguard-on-a-paddleboard to catch up to me so I would never be farther than a few yards away from a lifeguard-on-a-paddleboard!

I also lolligagged at the finish line, looking behind me to see if I was the last one out of the lake, and lo and behold, I WAS NOT! There were at least five people behind me!

It was a nice-ish morning, sunny but cool. I wore a wetsuit, which is something I've never done before in all my local swimming adventures. At first I felt rather wussyish wearing one, but in the end I was glad I had it. It's intimidating enough swimming across a body of open water on a "Juneuary" day without having to deal with gasping for breath as you adjust to the water temperature.

There were all sorts of people doing the event - grandmothers and grandaughters, fathers and sons, musclebound triathletes, very unmusclebound people, and, me - jack of all sports, master of none.

I probably would have gone even blindingly faster if I hadn't forgotten my secret weapon - the Powerbar(R) Double Latte Gel. This little gel gave me turbopower for 20 whole minutes on a bike ride last week and I was counting on it to do the same as I kicked my competitor's butts in the lake. But alas, I forgot it in the excitement and had only a banana to fuel me across the stormy seas.

Actually, Greenlake is much mellower than Lake Washington, which is always churning with wind and boat wakes. Greenlake is placid and peaceful, though of course you can't see a anything as you're swimming across it except greenish-black murk.

I did, sadly, have to make sure there was a lifeguard near me at all times. And the few times when the closest lifeguard had to stop and help some poor soul who was even slower than me, I sorta freaked out and didn't know whether to keep going. In the end, I did, with the help from my mantra:

"If I can climb Mt. Rainier, I can swim across Greenlake. If I can climb Mt. Rainier...."

I was also trying to sing the song "All Down the Line" by the Rolling Stones in my head but it didn't work because I only know one line: "All down the li-ine...".

Next time I need to pick a song I actually know the words to.