The Beach

My parents met at the University of South Carolina when my mother was a freshman there.  Her friend, Whit, invited my mother to go with her to Pawleys Island.  My father tagged along and later when they got married they agreed to go to the beach at least once every year.  So after they got married they started going to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina for a week every year.  Later after they had children they continued the tradition.  This year marks 65 years that my family has been going to "the beach" for the family vacation.  After a few years Myrtle Beach got too big with high rises and they moved the vacation to North Myrtle Beach, SC.   For about the past 15 years we have been going to Cherry Grove Beach in North Myrtle Beach.  Sometimes at the beach we have entertainment night.  For entertainment night this year I wrote this original poem:

And Still They Come

Young lovers on Pauleys Island, a Charleston Beach

He lies on the sand under the stars dreaming how later her hand in marriage he will beseech

Married now and she with a son near

They vow to return to this beach or some beach at least once every year

Like the wide plateau of the sea

Their family expands as though it will never cease

Little ant-infested cabins with salt-infused water like Haul Haven

Are replaced with high rises up and down the coast 

Ha ha ha of the Laughing Gulls mocking the passage of time like a cackling boast

The sky turmeric with the setting sun marks time slipping past

Soon one leads to ten; it all happens so fast

Still they come

January brings a rare snow inland where they usually reside

Not too early for a young girl to cram a grocery bag full of shorts and shirts in anticipation of the annual trip to the tide

A trip that takes on enormous proportions

For the year hastes away in fractional contortions

Already the car is packed with kids and her nose pressed against the Barracuda's glass

Her sister's sweaty thigh pressed against her ass

"Don't touch me!" Useless to say in the exploding confines of a car meant for six but kids piled in like hay

 A blue boat sails over the glass and blots out the sun cooking her like toast

Soon it's returned to its place and they are on their way again to the coast

To the coast and still they come

The little cottages disappearing

The growing family moves farther and farther into the clearing

Til finally they are bunched up at the border

And still there is no order

Always chaos 

Chairs flipped over, papers snatched, children pounce

Yet not one of them would trade any of it for a billion or an ounce

As way leads on to way they might never pass this way in years to come

And yet a mother's wish that they return and their own hurricane desires assures that for one week every year forever more a beach in South Carolina will be their home

 And still they come

by Michelle Brodie

Grand Staircase- Escalante National Monument

For years a framed photograph I had taken in 2004 while hiking in the Paria Canyon, hung in the kitchen.  One day my friend, Felix, a professional photographer, came over took one look at it and said, "the lighting is all wrong."  Ever since then I have wanted to return to the Paria River to get a better photo.  In 2004,  I  used a 35 mm point and shoot camera and had the photo blown up at Walgreens.   The scene was two towering pilars of multicolored sandstone reflected in a pool of water.  This year I decided to go back to the Paria River with my sister and photograph the Paria River again with my Canon camera and also combine the trip with some hiking in Grand Staircase National Monument.

On Saturday, as I  passed down Highway 101 I noticed a huge bright light; the moon as bright as I have ever seen it and huge rose over the horizon in the west like a sunfish in the sky.  Later as I sat in my seat on the plane I noticed an old lady walking with a cane, board the plane.  As we were about to land the old lady ambled slowly to the bathroom and went in.  I had read once about a plane that had to circle its destination for an hour because a man would not come out of the bathroom.  So I watched with alarm as the old lady went in while the flight attendants' backs were turned.  Finally one of them noticed and began to pound on the door.  "Ma'am, you're going to have to get out of the bathroom" she yelled as she continued to pound.  "Ma'am you must get out of the bathroom.  The plane cannot land until you get out!"  Oh my I hoped she wasn't already on the commode.  Finally she slowly came out grimmacing and walked even more slowly back to her seat.  We landed on time but I don't know if she made it to the bathroom on time.

I met my sister at the SLC airport and from there we drove to Kodachrome Basin State Park in Cannonville, UT.   The Utah State Parks Department has a sense of humor designing a highly unusual campground with all the sites in a circle around the bathroom which had free hot showers, flushing toilets, and incredibly electric powered hand driers.  After a short walk about the Grand Parade Trail and dinner we enjoyed a picturesque scene of the moon still very big and bright rising over the hoo doos of Kodachrome Basin.    That night in my tent I slept very poorly as every time someone went to the bathroom and dried their hands a loud "hmmmmmmm" noise blared in concentric circles throughout the campground, waking me up abruptly.

The next day we drove from  Kodachrome Basin down Cottonwood Road to the Lower Hackberry Canyon Trailhead.  We made a wrong turn into the Cockscomb and wandered aimlessly for a needless two miles before realizing our error and getting into the main canyon to Hackberry.  The first half mile was lovely but then the canyon opened up and cattle had entered the canyon past the rickety fence attracting thousands of swarming deer flies.  These nasty little critters have a vicious bite and are apparently immune to poison.  I sprayed copious amounts of 100% Deet onto my legs and yet they continued to molest me for hours as we looked for a side canyon that allegedly had an arch in it.  After swatting deer flies with a sage brush for an hour we finally came to the canyon and scrambled over a rock fall 1.5 miles until the canyon ended in a pour over.  There was no arch and I was out of water.  I had not counted on the extra two miles in Cockscomb.  Not only that but we had to re-enter the cow infested, deer fly infested canyon in order to get back to the car.  I would not recommend hiking last three miles of Hackberry Canyon.  What should have been a six mile hike ended up 14.4 miles.  After our hike we were so grateful for the cold beers in the cooler.  I had bought the beer at a grocery store in Salt Lake.  In Utah, grocery stores can only sell beer with a maximum of 4% alcohol.  So these beers were more like malted barley-aid.  From Hackberry we drove back to Cannonville to buy some more Deet.  I noticed that the once famous, Ruby Inn had been renamed "Grand Staircase Inn" and the town had a brand new Mormon Temple.  These were very ominous portentious sightings for what was to come.   We returned to our campsite at Kodachrome Basin where there were less people and we hoped less hand drying in the night. 

Monday, we got up, packed up our tents and headed back down Cottonwood Road to the Paria River Vermillion Cliffs Wilderness Area.    We headed first to the White House Campground which is at the eponymous trail head into the Paria River Canyon.  There were two sets of people camping there already but one set was leaving so we took their site, set up our tent, and headed down the trail.  I was shocked to see dozens and dozens of hikers and backpackers coming up the trail.  When I hiked from White House Trailhead to the Paria  in 2004 with Susan we were the only people at the campground and we never saw a single hiker the entire time.   In 2004 we hiked seven miles to the unusual rock formation I had photographed and framed, and back to the car and camped for the night there all by ourselves.   I knew things would have changed since my visit nine years earlier but I was totally unprepared for what we experienced while in the Paria River Canyon those two days.  There was a complete onslaught of people to this remote wilderness area.   After hiking four miles we entered the narrows which are about four feet across and very scenic.  Then after three more we came to the spot I had come all that way to photograph.  There those courtly colorful columns stood but there was no water to reflect their princely state.    They were still magnificent to behold but without the water to reflect them it was clear my photo would not be the mind boggling, award winning photo I had been dreaming of.    I took photos from as many angles as the body would allow and then we continued to the confluence with Buckskin Gulch.  We passed a day hiker.  I have never seen another day hiker in Grand Staircase before.  We turned up Buckskin Gulch for another mile and came to a lovely canyon with trees.  A Canyon Wren sang from the canyon walls and a large adult male Northern Goshawk was perched in one of the trees and glared down at me as if to say "get out of my canyon!"  After the trees the canyon narrowed significantly and became filled with water.  We turned back and headed back to the trailhead.  On the way back we saw two juvenile Northern Goshawks, still with a little downy feathers, perched high up on the canyon waiting for dinner from mom.  Back at the campground it had filled beyond capacity since we had left.  We heard a lot of German.  The men just across from us spoke very loudly and one of them had an annoying hack.   Well past quiet hour, 10:00 PM, this guy was talking extremely loudly.  I politely said several times, "you are talking very loudly."  "It's quiet hours."  He continued barking to his friends oblivious.  I was reading a philosophy book I had brought with me.  Finally, I started reading aloud from the book I was reading at the same decibel as he, "The simplicity selector, for example, picks out Null Possibility from among the cosmic possiblities.  Similarly the goodness selector picked out the Axiarchic possibility universe."  Someone camping behind us yelled out, "What on earth are you reading?"  The men went instantly silent in fact the whole campground.   The bathroom which was not even there in 2004, was completely inadequate to the changed conditions and was quite noisome.  The wind blew the smell directly into our campsite.  We had to drive up the road a ways to find any kind of privacy for our outdoor solar shower which is one of my favorite things in the world.  Back at camp I noticed that a hurricane had passed through and dumped large quantities of red sand into my tent and sleeping bag.  It was clear I could not camp there a second night.  All I could think of was years earlier when Susan and I had camped there all alone and had such a great wilderness experience. 

At 6:20 AM two large noisy trucks pulled up and dumped off hordes of hikers.   I got up and said to Sharon, "let's get out of here!"   After breakfast we packed up and drove to the Wire Pass Trailhead.   We passed the ranger station where I had intended to pay for another day pass but it was still closed even though it was normal business hours.  So we continued.   In 2004 when I hiked Paria Canyon with Susan we had to turn on the odometer and guess where the Wire Pass Trailhead was; it was not even marked at that time.  Well, things have certainly changed.  There was a large sign, a huge parking lot full of cars, and two bathrooms at Wire Pass Trailhead.  The signboard said that you had to have a day pass to hike Paria River which I knew; that had been instituted in 2003.  The trail register said you had to apply three months in advance to hike to Coyote Buttes.  We started down Wire Pass trail and decided to just go up Coyote Buttes anyway.  Sharon had googled Paria River and read about some place called the Wave.  Apparently this whole area has been the subject of an article in Der Speigel Magazine because there were dozens of people speaking German.   I had a map from Michael Kelsey's excellent book, Hiking the Colorado Plateau, that had "Coyote Buttes" marked on a hand drawn map with two "xes" but that was the extent of our knowledge of how to find it.  We hiked up over a hill of Kayenta sandstone and then headed northerly until we came to some beautiful brown colored buttes and a multicolored swirly wall.  Then we noticed some people on the other side of the canyon so we walked in that direction.  And there it was-- this incredible swirl of colors in the sandstone.    There were a bunch of Germans there with their passes prominently displayed.   After walking around this amazingly beautiful area and getting some fantastic photos we headed back to the parking lot which was now totally full of cars and people.  With less than a mile to go we passed a family dressed extremely inappropriately for this hot desert hike.  The little girl was carrying her dog in her arms!  I could not make eye contact; I was so appalled.    We left Paria River Canyon and drove Cottonwood Road back to Cannonville and on to Escalante where we were delighted to discover that there is a State Liquor Store!  In Utah, liquor, beer over 4%, and wine can only be sold at State Liquor Stores.  We bought some real beer and then drove on the scenic by-way UT 12 to Calf Creek Recreation Area.  A sign said the campground was full but we pulled in anyway and low and behold a very private nice site next to Calf Creek was open.  We camped there the rest of the trip.   There were lots of birds singing and a very private place to take a solar shower.  Yes, it had everything I needed in the world-- outstanding canyon walls to admire, a clear view of the stars at night, birds singing in the morning, and lots of privacy.   As I set up my tent a Yellow-breasted Chat sang away in the cottonwood above me.

Wednesday, at 3:00 AM I woke to a Common Poorwill softly singing.  Then at 5:00 AM that Yellow-breasted Chat started singing.  A Poorwill is a nightjar and hunts for food at night but a Chat is a warbler.  What was it doing singing in the middle of the night? My goodness I certainly did not want to get up that early.  I considered it briefly but it was still dark out.   When we did finally get up it was a bit chilly-- about 54 degrees.  After breakfast we hiked from our site to Calf Creek Falls, a 120 foot year round waterfall that starts above from springs and flows into the Escalante River.  Since we were the first people we saw lots of birds, more Chats, Black-headed Grosbeaks, Violet-green Swallows, Western Wood Peewee, Plumbeous Vireo, Hummingbirds, Black-throated Gray Warblers, lots of Yellow Warblers.    We also saw two Fremont Indian granaries high up the canyon wall and a set of petroglyphs.  After admiring the falls we turned around.  On the way back there were dozens of hikers including two German chicks in bikinis and flip flops, one carrying a two liter bottle of water in her hands along with her pocketbook, and both yelling repeatedly, "April, April!"  I said I don't want to hear y'all yelling in this wilderness area but they would not let us pass; they were oblivious or did not speak English or both.  So I said, "excusez moi!"  Finally they let us pass.  Later as we left the campground we saw them at the entrance to the park with a third chick lighting up a cigarette.    From Calf Creek we drove to the charming little town of Boulder, UT and onto the Burr Trail, a very scenic road through canyon country.  We briefly had cellular service long enough to receive a text from Mary saying the Supreme Court had overturned Prop 8 and the odious, evil, and discriminatory Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA).  Curiously this loathsome legislation had been signed into law by Bill Clinton of all people, the same president who made Grand Staircase a national monument by executive order in 1992.  Well, I thank him for that but I could have done without DOMA when  I was going through my divorce and it had a negative impact on my life and made my taxes so incredibly complicated for seven years.  I was so happy that Prop 8 and DOMA had been overturned:  I was overcome with joy.  Here I was in my favorite place on the planet and finally justice had prevailed.  What better place to be to receive the good news?  Back to the Burr Trail.   We passed an overturned Land Rover  in a ditch.  They probably took one of the curves too fast and flipped.   We turned off the Burr Trail and went to the Wolverine Petrified Wood Natural Area where there are entire petrified conifers.  We hiked down the trail and soon came to beautiful black petrified trees which made a stark contrast to the orange and red cliffs surrounding them.  We hiked up the canyon five miles to the confluence with Little Death Hollow and then back.   We returned to our neat little site at Calf Creek Falls and had a wonderful warm solar shower and then admired the stars.   I was loving life.   From our vantage point we could see all of Sagitarrius and the refulgent Milky Way.  I slept like a log that night. 

Thursday, the Yellow-breasted Chat did not wake me up but a flute player did at 6:30.    Overall the campers at Calf Creek were extremely respectful.  The campground went completely silent promptly at 10:00 PM every night.  But there were some over zealous musicians there.  After breakfast we drove to Hole-in-the-Rock Road, a dirt road that goes from Highway 12 in Escalante all the way to Lake Foul (Lake Powell) some 50 miles.    We drove 36 miles to Forty Mile Ridge Road and then another 7 to the Trailhead.  The rental car had been shaking and rattling since we picked it up in Salt Lake but now it was shaking uncontrollably and especially when I ramrodded it over a huge sand pile.   When we came to a stop the radiator overflowed.  I knew it would take hours for a tow truck to come so we went on the hike anyway.  The hike is 18 miles round trip first cross country over slick rock to Crack in the wall, an extremely narrow crack you walk through in order to enter the canyon, down a two mile sand pile and into Coyote Gulch, then up Hurricane Wash for seven superbly beautiful miles to a natural bridge and then to Jacob Hamblin Arch.  In the wash we passed three waterfalls, several hanging gardens, three arches, massive alcoves, and overhanging 1000 foot high cliffs brushed with desert varnish, towering over us.  This beautiful canyon is one of Utah's premier hikes.  I had hiked portions of it in winter several times with Susan in vain attempts to reach Jacob Hamblin Arch before finally reaching it in the summer of 2011 with my brother, John.  It was a thrill of a lifetime to reach the arch in 2011 with John  but at that time I was overwhelmed with grief over the divorce and could not truly appreciate it.   So I was excited to go back on this sublime aw-inspiring hike again but was dismayed too, to see trash littering the canyon.  It was disturbing to see my beloved Grand Staircase full of trash and people.  After enjoying the arch and all the sumptous scenery we turned around and headed back to  our disabled car.  The last two miles up the sand pile Sharon became delirious and started babbling more than usual.  I could not understand what she was saying but she was moving slowly.  I reached Crack in the Wall and waited and waited while she continued to babble below me saying nonsense things.  I got back to the car and got some gatoraid and took it back down the trail to her along with some ice.  She finally made it up and then we waited for three hours for the tow truck to come.  We enjoyed a stupendous sunset while waiting.  Dale or Dell, the driver, showed up in a regular Dodge Pickup with a trailer attached.  He told me he was from Danville, CA.  He took forever to attach the car, complained incessantly about how bad the road was, and then proceeded to drive Hole-in-the-Rock Road 5 MPH for 36 miles!  When we got to the intersection with Hwy12 he started counting on his fingers.  Ignorant, depraved little miscreant could not even count.   Then he said that will be $1150.  I said I thought it was $500.  He said no, I charge by the hour.   No wonder the little reprehensible little soundrel was driving so slowly.  He was running up the bill.  I said, "you were driving like a snail and you took forever to hook up the trailer."  He said, "I didn't want to drive fast and tear up my equipment."  I was outraged.  "What?  You are a tow truck; you are supposed to be able to drive through anything.  I'll give you $800."  He said "no I'll take this car with me."  I said, "fine you evil little mobster.  I'll walk back to Calf Creek."  Sharon told me just to pay the horrible little larcener.  I paid him and then his final parting act of criminality was to rip the bumper off when off loading the car at Calf Creek.  I wanted to punch him in the nose but I was too tired.  It was 4:00 AM and too late to even take a solar shower.   I had cut my leg in Coyote Gulch.  It is now red and swollen as I write this.  I hope it's not fatal.

Friday, at 7:45 AM, Avis finally showed up with the replacement vehicle.  My god we would have died if we had waited for Avis at the trailhead.  This poor slob said he had been lost for four hours in the mountains and his diabetes was out of control because he hadn't had any water to drink.  We got in the new rental car and promptly drove it back to Hole-in-the-Rock Road to the Devil's Garden Outstanding Natural Area.  This is a very bewitching area of hoo doos.  After walking around there we drove the astonishingly bad road to Egypt Trailhead.  Two miles from the trailhead we picked up two ladies who had driven their Prius as far as it could go.  They said they had driven from Bryce Canyon and were on their way to Golden Cathedral in Neon Canyon and showed us a picture.   We showed them the starting point, soon passed them, and never saw them again.  It was easy enough at first.  We just headed toward the Escalante River but when we came to the obvious entry point down the canyon Sharon insisted it was not the right place.  So we marched another ridiculous two miles wandering aimlessly in the desert before she finally agreed to go down where I said originally.  We got to the river and were happy to put our tired feet in.  The water was warm but felt good.  I wanted to dunk my head but when I bent over I slipped on the rocks and went down on my knee.  It was painful to bend after that.  We crossed the river again and then found Neon Canyon, where the Golden Cathedral is.  There was no one else down there but us.  I don't know what happened to those two ladies from New York in the Prius.  After walking up canyon and not seeing the Golden Cathedral I was about to give up.  I told Sharon to go ahead and look.  She yelled back at me and sure enough just about 100 yards farther up canyon was a beautiful double arch with a pool of water below.    After savoring this beautiful place  we headed back to the Escalante River where we waded for quite a way before heading back up the canyon.  I got excited with a mile left, dreaming of a cold beer, anything cold and ignored the remaining cairns.  However, when I got to the rim where I thought we had parked, the car was not there!  I walked back and forth along the rim but no car.  Sharon came up after about 20 minutes and started panicking.  She is not a good person to be with in an emergency.  Do not get stuck in an earthquake with Sharon.   I was out of water.  It was 8:00 PM and we were walking along the rim.  I suggested we go back into the canyon to look for a cairn and she said no!  She was whining and complaining.  My mouth was parched.  I was out of water.  I tried to stay calm and positive.  I again suggested returning to the canyon to look for the last cairn.  She kept dropping back and moaning.  I was having to make sure she didn't get out of my sight and have to find her and look for the car.  I was a little bit panicked.  I started thinking how Mary always says I think I am "invisible" (she means invincible).   I thought I was going to die in the desert I love so much and that has given me such joy in my life.  I thought about my limp body prostrate in the sand with ravens picking at my flesh.  I wondered what Susan would think when she found out I was dead.  We had been to Grand Staircase so many times before.  I thought she would probably think, "well she died doing something she loved.  But why did she have to take her sister down with her?"  I remained positive though and continued to study the canyon looking for clues.  My garmin had died and was useless.  We wandered an hour with no water.  It was extremely hot that day, probably 100 degrees at the height.   Finally we came across the last cairn and there it was all along, the big hill we had come down that morning.  We struggled up it lips parched and throats unslaked until finally we reached the parking area and car.  A tent was there and a lady stuck her head out, "Are you OK?"  She was German.  Yes, I said, "we just got lost and ran out of water."  They had given the two New Yorkers a ride back to their car.  We never knew if they made it or not but I'm glad they made it back alive and us too, although decomposing among the canyons of the Escalante in Grand Staircase, the place I love so much would not be such a bad way to go.  The best beer I ever had was the one after I guzzled a liter of water out of the cooler, a Unitas Sum'r Ale.  I'm not sure if it has alcohol in it or not but it sure was good.    We drove slowly back down Egypt Road and then Hole-in-the-Rock to our lovely campsite at Calf Creek.  Then I had a glorious outdoor shower followed by more beer.  Sharon complained about the solar shower but I was having none of that.  It was a lovely evening staring at the starry starry night next to our camp fire.

Saturday, sadly we had to  pack up and leave Calf Creek CG.  We got in the car and I'll be damned if we didn't have a nail and a flat tire.  We drove into Escalante and fortunately the mechanic was on duty and it was not the criminal Dell from Red Rock Towing.  This guy was fabulous.  He repaired the tire in about 5 minutes and we were out of there and back on the road to Hell's Back Bone in no time.  We drove to the trailhead for Boulder Mail Trail, which incredibly really was used to carry mail trail from the town of Boulder to Escalante.  I cannot imagine why they would have chosen such a difficult route to deliver mail but it sure makes a great hike.  Right in the middle of it the trail crosses Death Hollow, arguably the most outlandishly beautiful canyon hike in the world.   The trail passes first through ordinary pinyon pine and Utah juniper before it opens up on gorgeous Navajo sandstone (my favorite)  and then at 5.6 miles the rim of the ineffably beautiful Death Hollow.  We hiked down about 1000 feet into the canyon, which was other wordly with trees, butterflies, flowers, and water.  We took our shoes off and stood in the cool water of Death Hollow, before heading back up the canyon to the car.  We passed another German couple on the way.   Even though I have hiked Boulder Mail Trail once before with Susan in 2004, it was winter then, and we could only make it to the canyon rim.  This time was so much more exciting to make it into the canyon.   I knew that a new goal of mine would be to backpack the entire Death Hollow Trail, one day.  One day.  But today was our last day.  Lamentably it was time to go; we left Grand Staircase after our hike and headed back to Salt Lake for the night.  The next day at the airport I told Avis about my woes and to their credit they gave me the rental car for free.   Despite the near death experience, the rapscallion tow truck driver, the biting insects, and everything else, it had been a wondrous outstanding adventure.   I was doing something I love to do and I felt so fortunate to be able to have the opportunity to go to Grand Staircase and experience this nonpareil place again and share it with my sister, Sharon, who enjoys such things as much as I do.  Bill Clinton you are a bastard for signing the evil DOMA into law, but thank you again for making Grand Staircase a national monument, the national treasure that it is, and bringing it to my attention.  Shall it forever remain in the public domain and free from development, trash, and too many people. 

Mt. Diablo, Walnut Creek, CA

I was mountain biking, mountain biking, mountain biking.  So I decided to get out of my head and go for a hike and went to Mt. Diablo.  I didn't take my binoculars; I just listened to the birds--California Thrasher, Cassin's Vireo, Oak Titmouse, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Scrub Jay, Lazuli Bunting, Black-headed Grosbeak-- just the ordinary birds of summer.  Then what do you know, a Golden Eagle appeared overhead soaring high above.  I was reminded of why I enjoy hiking so much; it gives me such joy.  Instead of memorizing a poem as I often do on my meanderings I felt a poem composing in my head and here it is:
Mt. Diablo

Mt. Diablo so beautiful I want to hug her

When I round Highway 24 there she is in all her grandeur

Lush with green just three months of the year and brown the rest

I want to put my arms around her bounteous breasts

A hike from Burma Road to the Summit will make your waist line plummet

This place I hold so dear

inspiring she bursts with penstemon, purple owl's clover, and Ithuriel's Spears all the year

Black-tailed deer and if you are lucky and quiet and respect this mighty place,

you'll see a bobcat, black-tailed jackrabbit, Alameda Whipsnake, Horned Toad, or Western Rattlesnake.

Oh how I love her, the place that has given me such solace

That even walking her trails in summer's glaring heat I long to reach her summit at 3849 feet

For when I am feeling sad and obsessing on something ridiculous

She reminds me that I am just a smote of dust  compared to forces such as plate tectonics

that formed her oak filled valleys circled by chamise lined  lofty peaks,

More powerful than all of us

And then instead of the day's anxieties

My heart and mind fill with all that pleases

The song of the returning Lazuli Bunting

A pack of coyotes laughing

Soaring Golden Eagle hunting

Mt. Diablo--  refulgent blessing

Michelle Brodie copyright 2013

The Difference Between Birders and Mountain Bikers

I have decided to rename my blog. It used to be called Birding with Michelle Brodie but since I have not been on any organized birding trips in over a year, I have decided to rename it to incorporate some other interests, to Birds, Trails and Tales with Michelle Brodie.


I first started birding in 1994 and like everything in my life I attacked it with vigor. I put all my resources into learning all the bird names, their habitats, their songs, identifying them, and compiling lists of all the birds I had seen. I had a life list and a North American list as well as a pair of hugely expensive top of the line Leica binoculars. In 2005, I signed up for a San Francisco County Big Year. This is a contest in which the participants attempt to see as many species of birds as possible within the county in one year. I had not been birding that long and no one really knew who I was but I came out of the gate like a race horse and gave it all I had. I got up at 5:30 AM every morning and went birding before work. My domestic partner at the time, bless her heart, joined me. In retrospect I believe this was added to a long laundry list of grievances against me culminating in a divorce in 2011.  However, she did assist me in locating many of the birds and identifying birds songs which she was good at, and was with me during some of my accomplishments and I thank her for that.

These contests are strictly on the honor system.  Since I was a parvenu to the elite world of San Francisco birders my sightings came under great scrutiny. One chilly September morning up on Mount Davidson, the highest point in San Francisco, at 900 some odd feet, I was looking for birds before work when an odd looking warbler perched on a branch not far away. A very aggressive and competitive competitor named David Armstrong was there. I told him there was an unusual warbler on a branch (this was exciting because there are not that many warbler species on the west coast, not nearly as many as the 30 plus on the east coast). He couldn't see it despite my explicit instructions, "look at the gray horizontal branch then go up one foot and slightly to the left to the v shaped branch above it and down 1/4 inch to the right." See it? No. "OK. See this branch right in front of us going across? Now go up and then slightly to the left." I told him. Warblers never perch this long. Poor thing must have been starving after flying all night. Birds migrate at night, almost exclusively along the coast on the Pacific Flyway, a migratory bird route that runs right through San Francisco. In the fall you can see them by the dozens early in the morning after they have been flying all night landing at the first thing to come into view as the sun comes up, in this case Mount Davidson. Often eastern migrants get lost and can be found during the fall migration way off course in San Francisco. Finally I got David on the bird and we agreed it was a Blue -winged Warbler, an east coast vagrant and first and, as far as I know, only sighting of this bird in San Francisco County. I had just set a San Francisco County record.
http://www.mdbrodie.com/birding/bluewingedwarbler.jpg
David sent a text to the other participants in the contest (this was a rule in the contest). Dozens of people descended onto Mount Davidson but despite a valiant search the bird was not seen again. This is fairly common as the birds are just stopping briefly during their migration and if they are lost often die before too long because of the unfamiliarity of the surroundings, exhaustion, hunger or they just succumb to predators. My sighting probably would have never been accepted had David not also seen it. Because it was a first county record I had to submit it to the “Bird Records Committee.” After scrutinizing David's and my detailed description, the sighting was accepted and went down into the record books. There was extreme jealousy brewing. How could this novice, this rookie, this novitiate, this nobody, really, have found the first and only Blue-winged Warbler in San Francisco County? The competition was heating up and close too. These people had no lives. They would leave their jobs with alacrity to go pursue the latest rare bird alert in San Francisco. It was coming down to who had the most time, the most money to expend, and valued their jobs the least.

Later in September I was at a locally favorite birding spot in the Presidio with my ex, near noon when I saw an unusual bird perched on a branch at eye level. I showed it to my ex and she and I studied it for some time. I said is that a branch in front of the wing or a white wing patch? Susan and I agreed it was a white wing patch-- it was a Lark Bunting-- an extremely common bird in New Mexico but only the second sighting in the County of San Francisco. I submitted it and sent out a rare bird alert. Hordes descended on the Presidio but it was never seen again. This time my submission was rejected. David said I must have mistaken it for something else. I was sure. It was broad daylight. My ex saw it too. It perched for several minutes. I was furious. I set two more county records that year. I saw the first ever Pileated Woodpecker on Bayview Hill. I reported it to the Bird Box (a place for birders to call and find out the latest rare bird sightings) and left. A bunch of other people re-found it and so that one was accepted. In October, I was again in the Presidio and saw an unusual thrush. I was pretty sure it was a Wood Thrush, again an east coast bird. I called my friend, Dan, and said I was pretty sure I had seen a Wood Thrush and told him where it was. He drove down and looked at it and said, yes that's what it is, call it in. I was hesitant. I was mad at being called a liar. I called it in and many, many other people re-found it. It was a second county record of a Wood Thrush.

Unfortunately I had become disillusioned at the miserable competitive attitude of the other participants and lost interest in the contest, even though going into December I was in third place. Someone saw a Summer Tanager in Golden Gate Park. I could have easily gone to find it; there are no red birds in San Francisco and Summer Tanagers are bright red so it would have been relatively easy to find but I was too mad and didn't go look and failed to move into second place. I ended the contest in third place. My enthusiasm had been completely crushed. I didn't even care what the results were. My Lark Bunting was not reported in the Quarterly Journal "Western Tanager." I gave up. I still loved birds, as I do all of nature and always will, but my desire to go out and explore and experience the thrill of finding a rare bird was doused like Class A Foam on a sizzling saucepan.

After that sour experience I continued to bird and keep my life list but it was a solo experience for me. I ventured out to other states to see new birds. One of my best blogs ever was written in 2006 after camping alone for two weeks straight on a birding expedition to Texas. I added 40 birds to my life list and had a great time doing so all by myself. As the years went by I began to miss my other great passion, hiking. It is impossible to bird and hike at the same time. Birding is painstaking at times. It requires standing in one spot for prolonged periods of time looking up into the canopy for birds obscured by poor lighting and annoying branches, causing extreme neck pain often referred to as warbler neck. Also the constant standing was exacerbating the arthritis in my low back. It got so bad at one point I had to carry a portable chair with me because I became unable to stand for prolonged periods of time. I felt like a very old lady. It was not possible to hike for miles and miles as I had in the past. It takes a lot of time to find the bird and then identify it while seeing only portions of its body at times and at awkward angles. Even the binoculars dangling from my neck contributed to my growing list of ailments. My spouse had no interest in it at all and after a while refused to accompany me at all on any of my outings. After she left me in 2011 and my world came crashing down I went on two major birding trips, one to Ecuador and another to Mexico. I saw so many beautifully colored and exotic birds but my life had been altered and disrupted and I was miserable. I took a year to recover from the divorce. My recovery was aided greatly by returning to my great love of nature and hiking. I spent hours hiking in the East Bay, east of San Francisco, just enjoying all nature had to offer and trying to ground myself. I logged miles and miles admiring the flowers and scenery and realized that I could bird just as easily by ear since I had learned all the songs of our local birds anyway and didn't need heavy expensive binoculars hanging from my neck. Now I could go farther when I hiked and can enjoy the flowers and the scenery. I was getting back to my core self.

I read the book Life List about Phoebe Snetsinger, a crazed birder who abandoned her family in her final years of life after being diagnosed with cancer, to accumulate what was at the time the longest life list in the world, some 8000 of the known 10,000 species of birds in the world. She was the very embodiment of a single mindedly focused, crazed, eccentric, competitive birder. I was starting to question whether I wanted to be known as a birder.

Then in June 2012, I met someone who asked me if I had ever considered mountain biking. I said “no, I don’t even own a bike but if someone were to invite me I would give it a try.” The first few times I had to rent a bike. It seemed like something I could master although it was very difficult not having ridden a bike since I was a teenager. I realized renting each time would be too expensive so I set out to buy a bike.   At my brother's suggestion, I went big.  Like everything in my life I would not tackle mountain biking half way; I would never consider doing anything half way. Why do it at all unless you are going to give 100% effort? So I set out to become the best mountain biker possible even at my late state in life. I attacked it like I attack everything in life. I bought a top of the line carbon fiber Santa Cruz Blur XC with special components to make it extra light. I spent the summer with bloody elbows and hideous bruises on my buttocks trying to navigate difficult terrain. This woman dragged me to some of Northern California's meanest toughest mountain biking trails.

In November, this mountain biking acquaintance talked me into joining a group of women on a mountain bike ride to El Corte de Madera Creek Open Space Preserve, known locally as Skeggs for the vista point and parking lot where the mountain bikers park. I was nervous. The group trail description said “for intermediate and above.” It also mentioned a 2700 foot elevation gain-- a lot on a bike, I came to find out. I looked around at the group during the introductions and realized I was ready to be humbled. I was not just humbled that day; I was humiliated. I am used to being the top dog, the queen of everything. On this ride I was pulling up the rear all day long. Not only that, but the group insisted on having a "minder" ride behind me so I wouldn't get lost. I asked her repeatedly to go ahead and not wait but she refused. The course had lots of roots, rocks, and logs. About half way through is a very long hill named the Methuselah Trail. I was gasping for air by this time. You think hiking will prepare you for mountain biking but it won’t. You do not use the same muscles for mountain biking as you do for hiking. You just don't. I had no idea. I was an aggressive and fast distance hiker. This day I took the longest time getting up that hill with that damn minder. She was this scrawny tiny little thing. She hardly looked the part of mountain biker. I don't know how long those poor women waited for me at the top of Methuselah. They must have thought I was dead. I just kept apologizing and they just kept encouraging me. I said I was sorry and that I had only been mountain biking about ten times so far. A very sweet lady named Sheila told me not to worry and that I was doing great. The last half mile mercifully came but it was all uphill. I was out of gas. I think I pushed my bike most of the way. My mountain biking friend said it was just as well because I moved at the same speed pushing it as pedaling uphill. I at least got back on the bike to ride back to the parking lot where the group was mingling. The others were finishing up the snacks and putting their bikes away. I felt my dignity had been eliminated that day. My mountain biking friend and I did not develop into a roaring burgeoning relationship, and in fact, our relationship such as it was, ended not long thereafter. Nevertheless, I decided to keep pursuing my goal of becoming a good mountain biker.

I signed up for another group ride on June 1, 2013 for Annadel State Park, near Santa Rosa. Annadel is very rocky and one of the toughest mountain biking places in northern California. I had been there once before with my mountain biking friend: there was a lot of blood involved. Her bike fell on her at one point gouging huge holes in her leg, leaving lava flows of blood down her leg and Mauna Loa sized holes. In retrospect I should have taken her to the ER but she just laughed it off. At the end though she had her second outburst of emotional umbrage during our brief experiment together, over the ride selection, and vowed to never go back to Annadel.

The group postings for June 1st were emphatic-- no beginners, strong intermediate and above only! I was so nervous the night before the ride I could not sleep. Was I setting myself up for another day of humiliation? Was I a beginner? Did I have any business going? During the introductions I observed everyone closely looking for someone to save me from pulling up the rear all day long. That same damn Minder from Skeggs was there. She didn't even remember me from Skeggs! Anyway the Minder didn't count as it was her job to be last. I was determined; my one and only goal was to not pull up the rear with the Minder. There was the leader, Casey, who was 54 but who had been mountain biking since the sport was invented in Marin County, California in the late 70s; Pauline and Christina who were both obviously lesbians and tough as nails, both a little chunky and no doubt downhillers (people who prefer flying down the steeps to grinding up the uphills), Jackie who was very highly skilled (she was riding an Ibis but told me her other bike was a Santa Cruz Blur XC-- my bike!), Jay a skinny little thing who lived in Danville at the base of Mount Diablo and who rode her mountain bike to the summit (3849 feet) every day after work for fun but who was a complete craven at the first sign of any roots, and rocks, and logs and would get off her bike and walk before attempting anything remotely dangerous; Elba, a maniac who was so supercilious that she had a glamour make over before going to the DMV for her driver's license photo, and who was also at Skeggs but didn't remember me because that's how far ahead of me she was all day long; Aria, who had been mountain biking for years and was very familiar with Annadel's trails and had great technical skills, and Wendy, lovely Wendy, very sweet Wendy, beautiful Wendy. Thank you, Wendy, for attending this mountain bike ride.

The beginning of the ride went uphill, up a fire road that became rocky after awhile. I struck up a conversation with Jackie as we seemed to hit it off. She had an accent and was very affable. I asked her if she was French to see if we could practice speaking in French but she was Italian. However, we segued into Spanish, the default language in California, after a while, and Jay who was fluent in Spanish joined in as well. Jay had come dressed in a, well, dress. I jokingly asked her if she had bought it from Macy's. During the introductions Jay looked at Christina and Pauline derisively and turned to me and whispered with undisguised scorn, “why do they have to look like that?” Soon some other bikers appeared coming down hill so we had to get into single file at which point I passed Aria. Aria, the punctilious intermeddler, yelled at me to slow down. I was nonplussed. What was she talking about? I looked at her legs and they appeared rather like drum sticks but not like a cornish hen drum stick so much as like a Canada Goose drum stick might appear after having eaten two bass. I became somewhat annoyed and again vowed not to end up pulling up the rear. Moreover, Casey was way out in front and I was just trying to keep her in sight. There is a no loss rule. If someone passes an intersection she is supposed to wait for the next rider to come into view before turning. Some of us waited at an intersection for Wendy and Minder and a guy with a big gut passed us. Then Casey decided to press on instead of either passing him or letting him get ahead. Then my problems started. We came upon a rocky uphill section and the guy with the gut stopped suddenly causing me to have to stop. Aria was behind me observing and critiquing. When the guy with the gut failed to move out of the way I had nowhere to go but a patch of poison oak. It was only the first in a series of humiliations and embarrassing failures to execute. Later I was about to round a switchback when the lady in front of me, Jay, fell. So I had to stop and wait for her to get out of the way. By that time Casey was breathing down my neck behind me. I had taken my left foot out of my clip as is my practice when stopping or resting because I am left handed, left sided, left brained, left personed. But to make this switchback you needed to have your right foot out. I felt rushed and fell in the switchback with my right foot still clipped in. Casey leaned over me, helping to pull my trapped right foot out of the clip and with a stern Mr. Murdstone voice said, “you need to swing way out to make the switchbacks and get your right foot out of the clip.”

After a break, there was a discussion about an upcoming steep, steep hill with a root in it. I am very familiar with those as I had had a serious crash a few weeks earlier trying to attempt that at Saratoga Gap. So I was getting nervous and didn’t really want to attempt it in front of anyone.  Christina said to sit way up forward on your saddle in order to make it. I couldn’t see well around the trees and am not sure if Christina made it or not. Jackie pedaled furiously and I saw her make it up. Everyone had gone but Wendy and me. Wendy walked her bike up. I didn’t want to look that pusillanimous. So I attempted it and fell over. Aria yelled down at me, “you have to get your foot out of your clip, you dunderhead!” I yelled back up the hill, “I have only been mountain biking one year and I’m 52! Give me a break!” Christina just quietly told me to move forward in my seat next time. After a very fun single track through the trees we came to an extremely rocky uphill climb. Aria got right behind me yelling advice like a martinet. She refused to pass me even when I invited her to do so, as she was enjoying mentoring me. Wendy walked good portions of this section. I tried to struggle through it and fell hard on my right leg.  Every time I fell I either received unwanted overly solicitous attention from the Minder or unsolicited advice barked to me.   At the top of the hill Aria belted out, “you need to get out of that right clip. Is it on the lowest setting? Let me give you some lube for it.” She was all over me, hectoring and haranguing me. After the picnic table we went through a difficult boulder field. How did Aria end up behind me? There were two boulders side by side with about one inch between for your wheel. I took my left foot out and pushed through it using my foot. Aria chimed in, “Michelle, what happened back there?” I said my left pedal was going to hit the rock so I pulled out. She said, “you need to ratchet your pedals when that happens so that the other pedal is higher and can clear the rock!” Right! If I had been mountain biking for 12 years I’m sure it would have come to me instinctively. That is like telling a new skier, “just go over those Volkswagon sized moguls by making tight sharp turns quickly.” Yes, that is how you get over moguls but it takes time on the slopes and practice.

We came to a lake and took a rest. Some of the gals jumped in but Elba didn’t want to get her hair wet and mess it up. I’m not sure what her cure was for helmet hair. After the lake there was one last rocky descent that I rode pretty well and then we all stopped at an intersection. I came up to the group. Casey said we have two more we’re waiting for. I said, “thank god for Wendy so I am not pulling up the rear all day.” Casey chided me, “this is not a contest!” I apologized and said I was sorry and was just kidding. (I wasn’t kidding. My entire goal for the day was to not be pulling up the rear). The last bit of the ride was just a fire road. I started up the road with Aria and Christina. Christina said there was a jump but not to go over it. I said I wanted to and she said just be sure to pull up. I said what do you mean pull up. Just about then she went over something I couldn’t see and I just followed. I pulled up as instructed so as not to go over the handlebar when landing after flying over what was not a jump so much as a three foot high wall.   Somehow I landed it cleanly and proceeded ahead. Unfortunately Jay, who was two people behind me, had not been privy to the conversation, went over the wall, catapulted over her handlebars, and got  her dress very dirty, cutting her face, and splitting her lip. Everyone dropped their bikes in the road to provide some solace and some first aid to Jay. There were thousands of dollars of equipment in the road in a line. http://www.flickr.com/photos/17376274@N03/8943798204/
We proceeded back to the cars where Casey brought out some snacks for everyone for some apres-ride socializing. Jay mentioned she was starting a new job as a wellness coordinator and next week was safety awareness week. She wondered if they would fire her when they saw her fat lip and bloody cheek. Jackie revealed that she had been both a professional dirt bike racer and later downhill racer, was three time world champion, and still held the world record for the fastest time. Pauline said, “that’s not possible; I was the champion in 2005.” Several exchanges went back and forth on who was the champion. I put my money on Jackie; she had a Blur XC and you could just tell that she was a prodigious talent and stupendous person.  After a while everyone returned to their cars and their lives. I drove into the park to a picnic area and set up my chair to read and have a beer. The area was surrounded by stately tall oaks and the birds were singing—a lovely setting for a Saturday afternoon-- but all I could think about was that it was June 1st, the day that I had met that lady who introduced me to mountain biking, how the relationship never materialized, what a failure that relationship was and its connection with mountain biking, and my failure with mountain biking itself. I was feeling sorry for myself and like a  lorn lonely creature, a bit like Mrs. Gummidge in David Copperfield. A little tear even welled up in my eye. I wondered if I should give up mountain biking altogether. What was I after all? A crazed birder? A terrible mountain biker? A lousy girlfriend?   A lawyer? (Yes, and a damn good one but I have never defined myself by my career.) I am much more than that. Then I wondered, what is the difference between a birder and a mountain biker anyway? They are both very eccentric, a little bit crazy, and very competitive. The only difference I can see is, one has expensive binoculars through which they see the world and the other, expensive bikes through which they experience the world. In the end, I was all those things --a crazed, competitive birder, a burgeoning mountain biker, and a damn good lawyer. Was I giving up mountain biking and all its concomitant purple bruised buttocks and bruised ego, I thought as a Cassin’s Vireo sang his question song up in  the Valley Oak? Heck no. Where was the next mountain to conquer?

Winter Birding in California

I have not posted anything for almost a year and I have no birding trips planned for this year at all  so I thought I would just post about something ordinary like birding in winter in California.  Yes, it is technically still winter until March 20, 2013 even though it has been a most spring like winter here in Northern California.  Typically birding in this area in winter is not nearly as interesting as in spring or fall when the migrants are arriving or leaving unless you enjoy looking at Yellow-rumped Warblers or telling the difference between a Long-billed and a Short-billed Dowitcher (now this is one of the reasons most people find birders so eccentric) or squinting into a telescope until you are nearly blind looking at tiny dots far out to sea.  On the other hand winter brings some very charming birds to our area.  For example the beautiful Varied Thrush winters here.  It has the most adorable song which sounds like an alto, contralto, tenor, and bass whistler and has beautiful orange and black plummage (yes like our Giants). 

Two weeks ago I heard dozens of them on the Miwok Trail on Mt. Tam and so today I thought I would go back and hike that trail with my 400 mm lens and finally get a decent picture of one.  The only one I have on my site is terrible.  So I started through the coyote bush and the wild flowers were just starting to come in -- some wild irises, California buttercups, Indian Warrior, Footsteps of Spring, and Paintbrush.  Then as I entered the forest where they reside, I heard the telltale whistle blowing and walked as quietly as I could so as not to scare it off when who should appear but a trail runner talking extremely loudly to his running mate.  Poof there went my Thrush.   Well, I picked a bad day it seems for photographing our lovely wintering Varied Thrush as runner after runner ran by flushing every bird in the forest.  I managed to get a few not so great pictures such as this one: Varied Thrush.  And then the forest went silent.  I went up a little higher just to have a nice view for lunch and enjoyed the just arrived Allen's Hummingbirds desperately trying to attract a mate before heading back to the trailhead somewhat dejected.  I would have just continued to the summit except that camera weighs about 20 pounds.  Fortunately I had left my mountain bike in my car for next I drove to the base of Mt. Tam in Mill Valley and rode my bike to the summit and back, a gain of 2200 feet.   The clouds had moved in and the birds had moved out so it all worked out. 

CHIAPAS, MEXICO: MARCH 9-19, 2012

CHIAPAS, MEXICO: March 9-19, 2012
I had never been to Mexico before and I had never been on a birding tour with a group before I signed up to go to El Triunfo Biosphere Reserve in Chiapas, Mexico with Legacy Tours.   What attracted me to this trip was that it involved hiking and camping two things I enjoy in addition to birding.  I didn't really have any targets or expectations but the experience I had while there was extraordinary and I feel so lucky to have had the opportunity to enjoy this very special place with Legacy Tours' delightful trip leaders Michael Karmody and Jorge and the incredibly nice participants Ron, Bob and Pearl, Bob, Marvin, and Joyce.  I highly recommend Legacy Tours to anyone wanting a special birding experience.  Jorge, the local guide was incredibly skilled at identifying the birds and finding them in thick forest canopy.  But more than that I was so impressed with his commitment to conservation.  He was very gifted at making the whole group comfortable, knowing the pace, and meeting the needs of the participants but always first was protection of the very birds we had come to see.  Michael was also very skilled at knowing the birds and their behavior, drawing them out, and finding them in dense forest.  He was very enthusiastic and patient and a pleasure to be around.  I cannot say enough good things about Michael Karmody, Legacy Tours, and the guide Jorge.  I enjoyed myself so much and the memories will be with me forever. 

Saturday, March 10, 2012
It did not start so auspiciously though.  I was supposed to land in Tuxtla Gutierrez, Mexico around 2:30 PM on March 9 and then relax around the hotel looking for parakeets or something before meeting the group for a pre-trip meeting.  Unfortunately the plane in Atlanta had mechanical problems and was delayed two hours.  I missed my connection in Mexico City and when I finally got on a flight from Mexico City to Tuxtla Gutierrez and landed there my bag wasn't there.  Aero Mexico offered to deliver it to the hotel "in the morning" sometime but I knew that birders would be up very early and I might miss them so I decided to just wait the five hours at the airport until the next plane was due from Mexico City.  Aero Mexico gave me $1000 pesos for my trouble.  There was little to do but sit and have a few beers until the plane and my bag finally arrived at 11:00 PM.  I didn't get to the Hotel Parmareca until after midnight.  I asked at the front desk about the group and the attendant said they were leaving at 6:30 AM.  So I asked for a wake up call at 6:15 AM.  At 6:15 there was a call from somebody asking where I was and if I was coming.  I said yes.  Then 10 minutes later somebody rudely knocked on my door.  This big guy was standing there glaring at me.  I said "are you Michael?"  He barely shook my hand and said let's go.  We were supposed to leave at 6:00 AM.  I said sorry my luggage didn't come and the guy at the front desk said 6:30, not 6:00.  Then he relaxed a little and was nicer.  What a bad start! I was exhausted to boot.  We all got in a van and drove out of town a little way to El Sumidero National Park.  We drove up the park road getting out at various spots to look for birds.  My first bird of Mexico was a Great-tailed Grackle at the Oxxo, Mexico's version of 7-11 where we stopped to get junk food for breakfast.  Once inside the park things got better.  At the first stop I saw a White-tipped Dove, Streaked-backed Oriole, and Banded Wren.  I was so happy to see a Streaked-backed Oriole.  Now I don't have to chase one in Arizona.  Then we drove some more and stopped at another stop and saw Cabanis Hummingbird, Plain-capped Starthroat, Red-billed Pigeon, Yellow-throated Euphonia.  The best sighting though was a Belted Flycatcher in plain view and perfect lighting.  We drove all the way up and walked a short trail where I saw a Rufous-browed Peppershrike, Boat-billed Flycatcher, White-collared Swift, Ridgeway Swallows, Lesser Greenlet, and Greenish Elaenia.  We went to an overlook down into a very steep canyon with a river flowing far below.  We walked around there and saw the pretty Yellow-winged Tanager.  It was starting to heat up and so we left the park and returned to the Hotel Palmareca for the buffet brunch.  Then we departed for a five hour drive from Tuxtla Gutierrez to Jaltanango.  Our driver was extremely reticent.  In fact, he never said a word.  We stopped at numerous stops along the way looking for birds.  The road was pocked with potholes and it was slow going.  Tuxtla Gutierrez is a large city of 500,000 people but as soon as you leave town you are back in the countryside.  There was a lot of open space with mountain views and bridges over rivers to explore for birds.  We saw Ringed Kingfisher, Amazon Kingfisher, Crested Caracaras, Ruddy Ground-Dove (another bird I have looked for numerous times in AZ with no luck), Green-breasted Mango, White-tailed Hawk, Tropical Mockingbird, White-collared Seadeater, Long-billed Starthroat. At the last stop we found several Fork-tailed Flycatchers in a field with a few Scissor-tailed Flycatchers.  It was hotter than hell in Jaltanango.  We checked into the Hotel El Triunfo and had dinner in the restaurant there.    Joyce was pretty interesting.  She confided in me that she and her husband were nudists.  She also told me that she liked my outfit and that I should be on the cover of Birding Magazine.  Wow, thanks.  It was so hot in my room.  All night long trucks were in and out of the parking lot.  There was a noisy party on the first floor with loud Mexican music all night. I didn't sleep much.

Sunday, March 11, 2012. 
A truck picked us up in front of the Hotel El Triunfo.  We all piled into the back like the Mexicans do for the three hour drive to the base of the Sierra Madres.  We stopped several times and saw Guarded Trogon, Grayish Saltator, White-throated Magpie-Jay, Slate-throated Restart, Golden-crowed Warbler, Barred Antshrike, and some other neat birds.  Then we parked, got out and had lunch and began our eight mile hike up 1800 feet on the Finca Prussia Trail into the reserve.  We hiked very slowly and stopped frequently to look for birds.  The slow pace and constant standing took a toll on my body.  The trees were full of epiphytes and there were many orchids and lichens growing.  When we would come to an opening in the canopy we had outstanding views into the Sierra Madre Mountains.  Many Brown-backed Solitares were singing in the trees.  We stopped at one point and saw the cute little Tody Motmot.  We heard the exotic Pheasant Cuckoo very close.  Michael said it was dead meat but despited repeated "toots" on the ipod the little rat would not reveal himself.   However, we had better luck with the Fulvous Owl which popped right out and perched above our heads.  Gorgeous owl.  While admiring the owl some Black-throated Jays flew in but I missed those.  We saw three different Motmots-- Russet-crowned Motmot, Blue-crowned Motmot, and Tody Motmot and heard the Blue-throated Motmot.  We would have to come back for that one later.  As we approached the reserve Jorge told everyone to be quiet as he listened intently for the Horned Guan's low moan.  We heard one high up on a hill but it was getting late and we still had three KM to go.  So Jorge insisted we proceed.  Up ahead of us on the path was Rusty Sparrow, Chestnut-capped Brush-finch, and then right out in the open a beautiful male Spotted Nightingale-thrush!  Damn I tried so hard to see one of these little cuties at Wildsumaco with no luck at all and here was this one five feet away on the trial.  Beautiful!    It was starting to get late and Jorge was getting anxious as the others appeared to have stopped at the hillside trying to see the Horned Guan.  He called them repeatedly on the walkie-talkie to come on.  We finally made it to the edge of the research station when we got a call from the head of our staff, Lico, telling us to come back up the trail.  He had a Quetzal!  I practically ran back.  I looked for one of these marvelous birds with my sister in 2000 in Monteverde Cloud Forest with no luck.  When I got back to where Jorge was there it was ten feet off the trail in fantastic lighting-- the most beautiful bird in the western hemisphere-- the Resplendent Quetzal.  It was stunning and beautiful and I was so moved that I cried.  I was a little embarrassed but Jorge assured me I was not the first person to cry upon seeing a Quetzal for the first time.  It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my whole life.  We made it to camp, had a hot shower, and Rosie our cook made us dinner.  After going over the checklist everyone headed off to bed.  The stars were magnificent.  We were in the middle of nowhere in the cloud forest.  What a great place; what a great idea!  I shared a room with Joyce and slept well.  I could sort of hear Michael snoring in the next room.

Monday, March 12
At breakfast the guys were complaining about how loudly Michael snored.  Michael complained about how loudly Marvin snored.   I was happy I had my own room with Joyce.  We hiked the Palo Gordo Trail in the morning.   In the meadow outside of the bunkhouses we saw a Violet Sabrewing.   Standing beside the stream we saw lots of Yellow Grosbeaks, Gray Silky Flycatchers, Rufous-collared Sparrows, and Common Bush-tanagers.  A White-naped Brush-finch scurried along the stream.  And some Hooded Grosbeaks flew over.  Black Robin and Melodious Blackbirds were at the edge of the meadow. On the trail we saw Tufted Flycatcher, Yellowish Flycatcher, Spot-crowned Woodcreeper, Unicolored Jay, and Blue-and-white Mockingbird.  About mid-morning we heard a guan very close.  Michael told everyone to stop and there it was the exotic looking Horned Guan right over our heads in plain view.  There are only 2000 of these magnificent creatures left in the world and you have to hike up into El Triunfo to see them.  In fact, the Horned Guan is why most people go to El Triunfo.    It sat quietly moaning for at least 20 minutes.  While we were admiring it a beautiful Blue-crowned Chlorophonia flew in close as well giving admiring views.  After enjoying these incredible treasures to our hearts content we headed back to camp.  On the way we passed under a few Central American Spider Monkeys who tried to defecate on the others.  Beside the trail was an accommodating Sierra Madre Arboreal Alligator Lizard.  During a break Marvin told me that he had been in the Peace Corps in the  first set of volunteers after President Kennedy set it up.  I said I was in first grade.  After lunch I was lounging around the meadow trying to film butterflies when Jorge advised me that some Mexican researchers and the head of the research station had arrived unexpectedly and Joyce and I would have to move into the bunk room with the men!  Oh my god.  We at least had a separate room with no door on it but it was right next to a large room with several mattresses on the floor.  Ron had also been displaced but he begged off and slept outside in a tent.  He was smart.  That night after dinner Michael insisted that we all go to bed at 8:00 PM.  I was not in the least bit tired.  I talked with Joyce for a while until Michael yelled at us.  Then the lights went out and the loudest snoring I have ever heard began.  My god even Joyce was snoring at an insane decibel.  Marvin, Joyce, and Michael vied with each other to snore the loudest.  It was incredibly noisy.  I did not sleep at all.  I have never heard a woman snore that loudly.  My god it was louder than a truck stop.

 Tuesday, March 13, 2012
First thing in the morning I was standing with Marvin when a group of Barred Parakeets flew silently overhead.   After a delicious breakfast fixed by Rosie we headed down the Finca Prussia trail.  We soon saw a Singing Quail in the trail.  Later we also saw a White-faced Quail perched on a horizontal branch over the trail.  Black-capped Swallows soared overhead.  Then we spent hours trying to get everyone on a Blue-crowned Motmot way the hell up in a tree.  Seeing it required you to snap your neck completely back in the whiplash position.  The Rufous-browed Wren was much easier.  As we headed back to camp and were almost to the meadow I found a Brown-capped Vireo.  That night as soon as lights were out I stayed up as late as possible with my headlamp reading in hopes of falling asleep from exhaustion.  It was no use the snoring was insanely loud again. 

Wednesday, March 14, 2012
We hiked the Bandera Trail very briefly until Jorge made us turn around and go back because Resplendent Quetzals were nesting there.  While looking at a bush with flowers on it we finally found a female Wine-throated Hummingbird.  Across the stream three Quetzals flew into the trees.  I got a better look at the males bright red breast.  We also saw Paltry Tyrannulet, Spectacled Foliage-gleaner, and Rose-throated Becard-- another reason I don't need to go back to AZ.  After lunch I got permission from Jorge to go on the Finca Prussia trail by myself.  It was my best day.  I hiked as fast as I wanted and went almost back to the beginning of the trail. I stopped where we had the owl on the first day and was finally able to see the Black-throated Jay very well.  On my hike back I flushed several White-faced Quail-doves.  While walking along two Collared Pecaries ran through the woods.  Then I came across a small brown snake-- a Highland Viper!   That night the stars were shining bright and the Milky Way was splashed across the sky but best of all was the pairing of Venus and Jupiter. 

Thursday, March 15, 2012
We packed our bags after breakfast.  The horses and staff would carry our bags for us as we hiked down the Coast Trail out of El Triunfo.  Rosie and the other staff hiked ahead of us to camp.  I was so sad to leave.   We hiked about eight miles.  Jorge asked if there was anything I would like to see.  I just randomly said the first bird that came to my mind--- Bare-throated Tiger-heron.  I only said it because it seemed so improbable.  Along the way we stopped to look for birds and found a Ruddy-capped Nightingale-Thrush, Orange-billed Nightgale-thrush, Rufous Sabrewing,  White-throated Robin, Golden-crowned Warbler, and Collared Aracari.  After descending nearly to camp we finally came upon a flock of Azure-rumped Tanagers found by Ron.  We spent several minutes drawing out a White-eared Ground-Sparrow and a Rufous-and-white Wren.  Michael tried to get everyone on the exotic looking Long-tailed Manakin but I never saw it.  I did see the boring female though later.  Once we got to Limonar the staff had already set up our tents for us and we just had to get our bags and put our tents inside.  While others were showering at the make shift shower (a pipe running ice cold water from the creek) Jorge, Ron, and I hiked for a little while on the Coast Trail.  We found a probable Blue-tailed Hummingbird and a flock of eastern warblers.  We had a very strange dinner of spaghetti and refried beans.  Marvin joked that he and Rosie would be getting married.  Even though he is twice her age, he is already married, and she doesn't speak a word of English and he speaks no Spanish.  It became the big joke of the trip between the participants. I was a little surprised when Jorge who was bilingual shared with Rosie our little joke but everyone went along because at Marvin's age it was obviously a joke.  Michael became uncomfortable around it though because he said the truth was that somebody like Rosie would marry an old guy like that just to get out of the country.  I felt bad after that for Rosie.  She was very sweet and worked very hard for us.  And she made delicious tortillas.  We went to bed incredibly early but I had my own tent so I could stay up as late as I wanted.  Michael instructed the staff to put my tent and Ron's tent as far away from the snorers as possible and they did. 

Friday, March 16, 2012
We got up early and after breakfast packed our bags again and left Limonar Camp.  We hiked about 10 KMs to El Paval Camp.  Along the way I finally saw the Fan-tailed Warbler.  What a dandy.  We also saw Ivory-billed Woodcreeper, and the beautiful Turquoise-browed Motmot.  I was getting close to 100 new species on my life list.  While looking for the Long-tailed Manakin (Michael said I could not count the female because she is so boring) I found a gorgeous bright yellow and green bird -- a Green Shrike-vireo--- Number 100!  Wow.  After everyone had outstanding looks at the Long-tailed Manakin and Green Shrike-vireo we stopped along the trail looking out at the mountain side for lunch.  While eating our sandwiches a White Hawk flew by and a Black Hawk-eagle.    Then we continued down the trail.  After lunch we saw Olivacious Woodcreeper, Streak-headed Woodcreeper, Yellow-olive Flycatcher, Plain Wren,  and Emerald-chinned Hummingbird.  Best sighting though was the crazy looking Long-billed Gnat-wren.  The last bird we found on the coast trail was a Pale-billed Woodpecker.  About 100 yard from camp it began to rain hard.  Ron and I ran to camp and got under a tin roof to dry off.  The others soon arrived as well.  The staff brought out moon pies and Horchata.  It doesn't get any better than that!  After about an hour the rain stopped and the sun came out. We looked for birds around the camp site.  In the borders we saw many Spot-breasted Orioles, Yellow-green Vireos, and Scrub Euphonia.  In the trees around camp were Orange-fronted Parakeet and White-fronted Parrot. We walked down a trail with Jorge and he found the very boring Tropical Pee-wee.    That night there was more snoring into the night. 

Saturday, March 17, 2012
After breakfast we looked around the trails surrounding the campsite and Michael got us all onto a Prevost's Ground-sparrow and  White-breasted Wood-wren.  There were also some Red-throated Ant-tanagers and Great Black-hawk.  Then we began our short hike out of El Triunfo to a waiting van and our driver, David.  We said good-bye to our wonderful staff, Lico, Eli, Rosie, and all the guys who toted our bags and carried our things for us.  They were all so wonderful. I cannot say enough good things about them.  David loaded up our bags, the mules and staff rode away and then were off down the road to Arriaga where we would have lunch and a much needed beer at a restaurant.  Along the road we saw a Laughing Falcon.  After lunch we drove into Arriaga and checked into the Hotel Ik-Lumaal.  It was very hot in Arriaga.  After it cooled a bit David drove us up the road to Mapastatec.  Along the river bank we found a Citreoline Trogon.  We saw Hook-billed Kite, Golden-crowned Emeral, Spot-breasted Wren, Yellow-winged Cacique, and Green-fronted Hummingbird.  Then we drove even higher and found the gorgeously appointed Rosita's Bunting and Orange-breasted Bunting.  At a look out we got out and scanned the skies until finally a bunch of Great Swallow-tailed Swifts flew over.  We had dinner at the Ik-Lumaal and then went to bed.  Bob from Calgary wasn't feeling bed and skipped dinner.  My dinner choices were narrow.  I could have the dried out fish again or the vegetarian option-- cheese in a tortilla.

Sunday, March 18, 2012
We got up at 4:30 AM and drove in the dark down some noisy roads looking for the Pacific Screech-owl.  It was the only missed bird of the whole trip.  I was amazed at how many Mexicans were up and at em at 4:30 AM.  Scooters and cars drove by constantly.  We tried and tried but never even heard a screech owl.  When it was still dark we saw a Boat-billed Heron.  After the sun rose we drove up Point Arista to Boca del Cielo and saw Roadside Hawk, White-bellied Chachalaca, Bare-throated Tiger-Heron.  Ron was so excited to point out the Tiger-heron.  Actually I have already seen one in Costa Rica in 2000.  I had to pretend to be excited.  We parked at a bridge on the road to Coazalcos and walked the busy noisy road looking for birds.  Michael was shocked to see a Giant Cowbird.  He said it is never seen on the Pacific side.  It was perched on a cow.   On a telephone wire in the middle of town we found a Giant Wren. Weird.  We walked the road and found more Swallow-tailed Flycatchers, Brown-crested Flycatchers, and a Nuttings Flycatcher, Band-backed White-throated Flycatcher, and as Michael and I were walking back to the car some Orange-chinned Parakeets.  It was getting hot as hell.  We checked out of the hotel and headed back up the road out of Arriaga.  Along the way we saw Cinnamon Hummingbird, Ruddy-breasted Seadeater, and White-lored Gnatcatcher.    We pulled off the well manicured toll road onto a rancher's driveway and walked the drive.  There we found Stripe-headed Sparrow, Couch's Kingbird, Rufous-naped Wren, Black-headed Saltator, and Black-cowled Oriole.  There was one Brown Jay.  The owner came and told Michael to call ahead of time next time he wanted to bird there.  It was time to go.  We got back in the car and drove back to Tuxtla Gutierrez.  We checked back into the Hotel Palmareca.  After dinner at the hotel we went through the bird list and I counted up my new birds-- 144!  Wow.  What a great experience.  After dinner I thanked Michael.   He told me he thought I was a class act for never bringing up that odious asshole who shall remain nameless.  That night I dreamed about fresh vegetables, chard, brocoli, and red-leaf lettuce.

Monday, March 19, 2012
It was the end of the trip.  David agreed to drive everyone to the airport for 10 each.  I was more than happy to pay him.  I flew from Tuxtla Gutierrez to Mexico City to Atlanta where I said goodbye to Bob and Pearl from Minnesota, and then to San Francisco.  I had had a wonderful trip but I was never so glad as when the plane touched down in my own country where you can drink the water without fear of Montezuma's revenge and you can eat the vegetables and fruits.

Ecuador: October 25-November 19, 2011

Ken Archambault invited me to join him on a trip to Ecuador he had planned. Given his eccentricities I was hesitant but after giving it some thought I decided to join.   Despite his atrocious behavior, I had a wonderful time on my trip and saw 298 new species of birds, lots of wild life, and met amazing people.

We flew to Quito, Ecuador on October 25 and stayed at the Hilton Colon. Ken complained so bitterly about the price of the hotel room that it was easier for me to just pay for his room as a birthday present. It's the last present he will be receiving from me. On October 26 at 4:45 AM Jonas from WildSumaco came to the hotel and picked us up. He drove us to Yanacocha Trail at 11,500 feet in the Andes.   My first bird in Ecuador was a Great Thrush as we drove up the mountainside to the trailhead.   It started out sunny but soon the fog and drizzle moved in.  It was bone chilling cold but worse than that were biting gnats that tormented us all day long.  There were not that many birds on the trail and they were hard to see in the fog but I managed to add 29 birds on that first day.  The trail is flat and ends at several hummingbird feeders were I saw Mountain Velvetbreast, Sapphire-vented Puffleg, Golden-breasted Puffleg, Tyrian Metaltail, and numerous Buff-winged Starfronlets as well as the bizzare Sword-billed Hummingbird that has a bill about five inches long.   I briefly saw Blackish Tapaculo and Ocellated Tapaculo.  The Rufous Antpitta and Tawny Antipittas called repeatedly but would never reveal themselves.  When we could not bear the biting gnats any longer we returned to the trail head where I also saw the beautiful Shining Sunbeam hummingbird.  Near dusk Jonas picked us up and took us back to the Hilton.  On the way Jonas commented on how mean Ken was to me and also said that because Ken enjoyed McDonalds and Burger King so much and failed to see the hypocracy of his contributation to the destruction of the rain forest, they should name one of the cattle farms at Sumaco after him. 

The next day we flew from Quito to the revolting town of Coca, gateway to the Amazon basin on the Napo River.  The Napo River flows into the Amazon River where it enters Brazil.  Just was we were about to board the plane in Quito, Tame Airlines called Ken back to the checkin counter so they could open his bags.  They wanted to look at an aerosole can of insect repellent he had.  Actually I think they were getting back at him for having bags weighing 58 pounds when 40 was the limit.  He was furious and cussed out a La Selva worker over the phone that his bags probably would not make it onto the plane.  I was so embarrassed.  We stayed in Coca just long enough to meet a boat from La Selva Lodge.  We caught a boat down the Napo River for two and a half hours.  It rained the entire time and eventually I was forced to huddle under my rain poncho.  Once the boat arrived at the dock we then walked 800 meters on a boardwalk and then were canoed across a lagoon before finally arriving at the jungle lodge, La Selva. It continued to rain so we met our guide for the week, Jose, and just looked at birds from under the roof of the main lodge.  There were many Sand-colored Nighthawks perched in a tree right next to the lodge.  Yellow-rumped Caciques and Crested Oropendolas nested just above the sidewalk to the cabins.  There were some common birds around the main lodge--  the very bland colored Palm Tanager, Blue-gray Tanager, Violaceous Jay, Hoatzin, and Black-capped Donacobius, among others.  We put our things into our cozy cabins before heading off to dinner in the eating area.  The food at La Selva was fantastic.  My only complaint about the lodge was that the coffee was not very good.  After dinner I headed off to bed as every morning we got up before dawn to get the maximum bird sightings.  By mid-day most birds were hiding from the blazing heat of the jungle.  As I dozed off I heard Tawny Screech-Owl and Tropical Screech-Owl calling.  They were my constant companions at night.   My gnat bites from Yanacocha trail itched insanely and I was so glad I had prescription strength anti-itch cream. 

October 27, 2011, someone came by my cabin and woke me up with a gentle knock and "good morning" at 5:00 AM.   After breakfast, Ken, Jose, and I walked to a rickety tower that wrapped around a tree.  The best way to see birds in the jungle canopy is from a tower and we saw plenty.  Flocks of multi-colored tanagers, huge beautiful woodpeckers and tree creepers, cotingas and honeycreepers surrounded us.  The highlights though were one White-browed Purpletuft and a Purplish Jacamar.  We stayed in the tower until noon and then headed back for lunch.  We took a break during the hottest part of the day and I took the opportunity to take pictures of the many beautiful butterflies around La Selva.  As it was very hot I changed into a white t-shirt.  At 4:00 PM we met Jose for an afternoon walk in the jungle.  Jose heard a Rusty-belted Tapaculo. He asked Ken if he wanted to film it.  Ken said yes so we took off into the jungle hacking our way through.    Tapaculos are one of the bird species that do not want to be seen or filmed.  We were very persistent and I eventually saw it.  I knew Ken was dying to film it so I moved up the trail while Ken set up his gigantic video camera.  The bird was flitting around very elusive and at one point moved up the trail toward me and Jose.  We spent an hour tracking the tapaculo but Ken was not able to film it.  So he started saying it was my fault because I wore a white t-shirt and to please not wear a white t-shirt.   But he wasn't just asking me; he was yelling at me in a very abusive manner.  Then Ken said that he did not want to go to the Clay Lick the next day and that since I had not paid for a guide and only he, Ken, had paid for a guide, that I was not entitled to Jose's services and would have to go by myself the rest of the time.  Also he said he was not able to film the tapaculo because of me.  I was furious.  He yelled at me in front of Jose.  Moreover, everything he was saying was a complete lie.  While Ken was off traipsing around some other country when our balance was due, I took the trouble to wire transfer our balance to La Selva and Wild Sumaco.  I said "Ken we both paid the exact same amount.  I have the wire transfer receipts and can show you.  Moreover, I am not going to the Clay Lick alone."  It was insane.  You have to be canoed across the lagoon to go anywhere.  How on earth would I even get there without Jose?  The price of the La Selva Lodge included a bird guide.  I deserved Jose's services as much as Ken.  Ken's idea of birding though is that everyone should get out of his way because it is far more important for Ken to film a bird than for anyone else to even see it.  At dinner another guest, Dana from Austin, who had flown down with us from Quito and ridden on the boat ride asked me about Ken's strange behavior.  I told her how he yelled at me in front of Jose and said that I was not entitled to use his services.  Dana said that Ken was beyond eccentric.  I was happy because I had seen 44 new birds in one day.  Ken was just mad because it was his third trip to Ecuador and he had only seen four new species.  He was very rude to the other guests at dinner.  However, he did mention that he really wanted to see a Zig Zag Heron, a bird that many people come to La Selva to see.

October 29, 2011 as we were getting into the canoe with Jose to be rowed across the lagoon to go to the Clay Lick in the Yanisani National Park, Ken announced that he would be withdrawing from our planned trip to Mexico in March.  I was so relieved.  I have no intention of ever going anywhere ever again with that rude, hateful psychotic, selfish miscreant.   Jose pulled the canoe over half way across the lagoon up to a Zig Zag Heron.  I felt vindicated.  He would not have seen it if we had not gone to the Clay Lick that day.  After a short ride up the Napo River we came to a clay bank where three other boats were pulled up looking at parrots.  The parrots come to the clay to clean their digestive systems.  There were a lot of people so we continued on to a boat ramp and got out.  We walked up a paved path to a canopy with chairs in front of a pool of water and a large clay wall.  We could hear the parrots but none would come down.  So after sitting silently for about 30 minutes we went for a walk and decided to check later.  We walked up a steep hill and came across a Short-billed Antwren.  While Ken was filming it he failed to hear Jose state that there was a female Wire-tailed Manakin also in the same tree.  At the top of the hill was a Screaming Piha, a rather drab bird with a loud scream for a song.  We saw some other birds and then walked back to the Clay Lick.  Now there were hundreds of birds and about two dozen people under the canopy watching them silently.  The canopy had a bare wood floor.  Ken was mad that other people were there and stomped across the wood floor shaking it violently so as to disturb the other guests.  Everyone turned around and stared at him.  I was so embarrassed for him.  It was very obnoxious but typical Ken behavior.  No one is allowed to have fun and see birds unless he is filming them.  After about 45 minutes the parrots and parakeets left and almost all the people except for one couple staying at Sacha Lodge on the opposite side of the Napo River.  Jose had arranged to have our lunch delivered to us at the Clay Lick.  Ken opened his and started complaining to Jose that it didn't have any meat in it.  Then he blamed me claiming that they got confused because I am a vegetarian.  The couple from Sacha Lodge offered him their lunch.  Later I heard Jose talking in Spanish to some of the other employees at La Selva about Ken's rude behavior.  That night we went owling with Jose but the owls ran away.  We chased them all the way to the tower which we climbed in the dark but they went farther and farther into the night.  A Great Tinnamou began calling as night descended.  At dinner Dana asked Ken if he was pleased about seeing the Zig Zag Heron.  He said no.  She said but you announced that it was one of your targets.  He just sulked and stormed away.  Later I asked Ken about one of the parrots at the clay wall and he said he refused to look at them because he had seen them before.

October 30 Jose offered to take us to the Sand Island.  Ken said his back hurt and he wanted to go to the tower instead.  So Jose and I went alone up the Napo River to the Sand Island.  On the way we saw Squirrel Monkeys and White-fronted Capuchins.  After arriving at the island we walked across some quick sand to a wooded area and saw lots of neat birds such as Orange-headed Tanager, Little Cuckoo, Mottle-backed Elaenia, and Parker's Spinetail.  We spent an hour stalking a Black and White Antbird which Jose skillfully drew out so I could see it.  After lunch and a break we went for an afternoon walk at 4:30 PM in the woods and saw a Neotropical Otter on a tree.  Ken was mad because he didn't see it.  After dinner Dana and I went to the bar and had a few drinks.  It was her last day.  I was sad she was leaving because she had been my ally against the insane and abusive Ken. 

October 31 our wake up call was 5:00 AM.  After breakfast Jose showed me a Long-billed Woodcreeper in a tree behind the kitchen.  Ken refused to look at it.  Afterwards Jose took us across the lagoon and up the Napo River to Sendero Cinco- Trail Five.  He brought a machete along and we just bushwacked our way through the jungle.  At the beginning of the trail I saw a small snake-- a Fur de Lance.  Ken asked me to show him where.  I said where it was but he couldn't hear me he said because I am soft spoken.  The snake slithered away and Ken became furious because he had not been able to film it.  He started yelling at me in a very abusive manner.  We were all wearing rubber boots in order to tramp through the jungle.  I wanted a picture of myself in my jungle outfit but Ken refused to take one.  Jose's English was not very good and it seemed too complicated to ask him.  I stopped to take a picture and Ken and Jose took off without waiting for me.  Ken started yelling at me that if I had been on a birding tour they would have asked me to go back to the dock and leave.  This was very interesting coming from Ken, who had been kicked off a birding tour in Madagascar with Rockjumper Tours because he was so abusive to the other birders.  His behavior was becoming more and more intolerable and even though I loved the jungle and was enjoying seeing all the new and beautiful birds he was ruining my vacation.  I was not enjoying being yelled at every single day and blamed every time Ken was unable to film a bird.  It was outrageous.   In the jungle Jose found a Banded Antbird.   Ken jumped in front of me and blocked me from seeing it.  It just wasn't worth it to me.  In the scheme of things what difference does it make if I don't see one bird?  I just could not stand to have Ken yelling at me and trying to humiliate me in front of Jose.  So I didn't even try to see it.  But Jose noting my frustration, motioned for me to come over to where he was and he showed me the bird.  It was beautiful.  Later Jose was trying to bring a bird in by playing the bird song on his ipod and Ken started playing a different bird's song on his ipod.  Jose looked at him with incredulity.  Later Jose found this other bird, some kind of gnat eater.  Jose yelled "stop" but Ken, who is 6'4", jumped in front of me and knealt down with his camera blocking me from seeing the bird at all.  I never saw it.   I didn't feel well that day anyway.  The trail was full of large flocks of birds but I could hardly enjoy it due to not feeling well and having Ken treat me so abusively.  When the last of the birds flew from the flock we were admiring, Jose's son, Miguel showed up with our lunch.  We were about to start eating it when Miguel said there was a Scarlet Macaw right over our heads.  We got up to see it and Ken tried to get his camera on it but it flew away before he could.  He said it was Miguel's fault for making too much motion.  I said, "but if it hadn't been for Miguel pointing it out, you wouldn't have seen it at all." That night at dinner Ken said that he intentionally tried to prevent me from seeing the Banded Antbird.  I was shocked.  On the boat ride back from Sendero Cinco Ken said that I should give Jose a $200 tip.  I said well that seems like a lot.  The book says $10 a day is customary.  Ken said that I should leave a tip for both of us.  I said why would I do that when you have benefitted from him as much as I have ?  He didn't have an answer.  He is insane.  I'm not leaving a tip for him especially after how abusive he had been.  My feet hurt from standing all day.  After resting in my cabin I went to the bar to get a drink.  Bernardo, the bar tender was there.  I mentioned that I was surprised that I had not had chocolate or bananas since arriving in Ecuador.  He said that we had had chocolate the night before in the mouse but I didn't have any because it had milk in it.   He said he would tell them in the kitchen to fix me something special.  During dinner it came out that Ken had seen an Ash-throated Gnateater.  I had no idea because all I saw was Ken's butt.  I was shocked.  There was a new visitor from Australia, Maryln.  Ken didn't like her.  After dinner the servers came out with a big bowl of bananas with chocolate all over it just for me.  It was so good and I was so touched that they had made it specially for me.  I said thank you and how good it was and Ken got mad and stormed out of the eating area without even telling anybody good night.    The other guests were shocked at his rudeness to them.

On November 1, 2011 Jose, Ken, and I walked behind the tower at La Selva.  We saw a Black-faced Antbird and White-chested Buffbird.  Ken became outraged that I had been able to videotape the antbird and began yelling at me to stay back.  He complained that because I was wearing a white shirt he was not able to film the birds when in reality the birds flew when he moved his lanky arms to change from his long lens to his short lens.  He told Jose, "can you believe she cost me two birds already this morning?"  Then he turned to me and said out of the blue, "all you care about is getting drunk and picking up women."   Then  he said, "all I care about in the world is filming birds and you are ruining my trip by inviting yourself here and preventing me from seeing and filming birds."  If I had had  a gun I would have just shot him right there.  I remembered a story Ken often told me about going on a birding trip when one of  the other guests tried to kick Ken's camera over.  I could  totally understand.  I'm surprised that any tour group will allow that mentally ill bothersome twerp to go on any trip with other guests.  Ken's idea of birding with a group is for everyone to get out of his way and stand stock still while he films all the birds and you look at his hunchback.  We went to the lagoon but Jose's son, Miguel, who was supposed to pick us up on a canoe never showed up.  Ken again complained that the lens on my video camera was too big and bright, that my glasses were reflecting sunlight and scaring the birds and recommended that I ditch them for contacts, my watch was too big and scaring birds (even though we were in the jungle and usually never even saw sunlight).  Then he called me a "fucking asshole" right in front of Jose and most bizarre of all said that I must have had a miserable childhood and been very unhappy.  Actually I had a very good childhood and have many fond memories of spending hours in the woods behind my parent's house with my siblings.  The only reason I can think of that he would make such outlandishly false statements is that he was projecting about his own bad childhood when he was abandoned by his father.  While waiting for Miguel who never came we saw a White-chinned Jacamar and a Spot-backed Antbird.  After lunch and a rest we went back to the tower at 3:00 PM.  The activity was not nearly as good as in the morning but I had my best sighting of the trip when Jose pointed out a Lanceolated Monklet to me.  It was perched in perfect lighting and I saw it and filmed it well.

November 2, 2011 we took a boat up the Napo River to the banks where Jose's family lives.  A mixed flock of Aracari's flew into a tree.  Some of them were Chestnut-fronted Aracari's.  Later we cut through the jungle with a machete and stalked a White-lored Antipitta.  Ken yelled at Jose for not stopping the tape fast enough when the antpitta came out into the open and Ken was not able to film it.  We heard a Black-throated Antbird and saw the beautiful Green and Rufuos Kingfisher and a Sunbittern.  At 3:00 PM we went to Mandacocha Lake.  We spent far too long stalking a Rusty-belted Gnateater that never revealed itself and ended up running in the forest to the lake.  I tripped on a root and slammed my other knee right into a protruding root.  The pain was intense and I collapsed on the ground screaming in pain.  It was not serious though and we continued to the lake where we saw a Common Potoo and a Sun Grebe.  That evening at dinner they told us to pack our bags and be at the lagoon dock for a 6:00 AM departure the next day. 

November 3, 2011 I packed my bags and went to the lagoon as instructed at 6:00 AM but Ken wasn't there.  Some other guests came and said they saw Ken with his tripod and backpack headed for the tower.  And there he stayed until 9:00 AM.  Everyone else left for their excursion.  I asked the workers to get him but he just refused to come down.  Finally at 9:00 AM after I had been sitting there at the dock with nothing to do for three hours "His Highness" as one of the other guests took to calling him showed up acting like everyone was sad to see him go.  He started saying in Spanish "I'll see you all soon."  Then he turned to Marcellino and said pointing to me, "es loca."  In reality all the workers and guests commented to me that they felt he was unstable and needed to be institutionalized.  When we arrived back at Coca the driver from Wildsumaco asked why we were three hours late and Ken had the nerve to say the boat had mechanical problems.    I had had it with that monster.  I refused to get in the van and checked into the La Mision Hotel instead.  That evening at the suggestion of Lonely Planet Guide to Ecuador I walked over to the Auca Hotel for dinner.  While waiting for the restaurant to open a little punk snatched my iphone out of my hand.   I ran down the street after him and stupidly yelled for the police.  They were more than happy to oblige.  The thief threw the phone on the ground and the police picked it up and refused to give it back to me.  No one spoke a word of English.    The police officer, Oscur Ruedo, assured me that it was the law of Ecuador that they confiscate my phone as evidence and that I must return the following day to testify.  The next day I found out it was a five day national holiday.  I was a target.  The police tried to steal my passport and they already had my phone.  I had to get out of there fast before I became a "Disaparaceda."  I was fortunate to get my passport back.  I had to call him from the front desk since the phone in my room didn't work.  When I came back the maid had come to clean up.  She came in the room and called me "cabrone."  Then she strayed some chemical very near my head.  Later I discovered that she has also stolen my sandals.

Friday, November 4, 2011 I called Oscur Rueda three times and each time he fed me some song and dance about the judge having my phone and how the trial would be that afternoon.  No one at the front desk of La Mision Hotel would help me arrange a taxi to Wildsumaco.  As much as I did not want to be around Ken I had no choice.  I had to get out of Coca before I was killed or raped or worse.  I hired a nice taxi driver to drive me to Wildsumaco and pick me up on November 10.  I could not understand his Spanish very well as he spoke very fast and spoke no  English but we got by.  He told me he lived in Coca and wanted to pick up his son on the way out of town to join us as it would be his first vacation.  As we passed through Loreto he pulled the taxi very close to an outdoor grill where meat was cooking and rolled down the window to smell.  The sun went down before we arrived and I was frightened at times that the tiny tires on the taxi would pop as we wound our way up the steep gravel road to Pacta Sumaco.  Finally after two and a half hours I arrived and gladly paid the driver-- the only nice person I met in the whole horrible town of Coca.  When I walked in the lodge Ken had a look of shock on his face.  Did he think I was just going to go home?  I had an awkward dinner at the Lodge at Wildsumaco as Ken and I were the only guests.

Saturday, November 5, 2011 it rained off and on all day.   Wild Sumaco Lodge sits at about 4000 feet on the eastern slopes of the Andes.  The land sits on a reclaimed cattle ranch so part of it is second growth rain forest and part disturbed.  Across the street Wild Sumaco leases land to ranchers still raising cows.  The road past the lodge goes all the way up Vulcan Sumaco where adventurous hikers can hike the 3732 meter volcano.  The lodge maintains several graded trails that have been laid with gravel or boardwalks so that rubber boots were not needed.  They also have a large deck that looks out over some cycropia trees and other fruiting trees that attract flocks of tanagers and other birds.  On a clear day which is rare there you can see the snowy summit of Antisanna high in the Andes.  The highlight of Wildsumaco though are the numerous hummingbird feeders just off the deck that can be viewed even on a rainy day from underneath the extended roof and that draw fourteen species of hummingbirds.  There are also ten more feeders hanging one km down the road.  After breakfast I was standing on the deck when a bright red Andean Cock of the Rock appeared in the cycropia.  Jim, one of the owners and the person who met us at Coca, gave me a trail map and started me off.  We heard a Little Tinnamou calling and saw the bee sized Gorgeted Woodstar hummingbird in the flowering bushes.  I walked up the road to the F.A.C.E. trail.  I saw many birds I couldn't identify.  They were much easier to see than in the jungle because the canopy is much thinner here.  As I walked down the trail I spotted a large bird standing on the trail with a white back-- the Gray-winged Trumpeter.  It started raining so I returned to the deck to film some hummingbirds.  A Japanese birding guide showed up with his guest.  We saw a gorgeous male Wire-crested Torntail hummer.  After a while they left to go to the lower feeders which is the only place you can see the Andean Piedtail hummer.  They came back in 30 minutes and said that some weird tall guy was down there who told them they had to leave because they were bothering him.  The Japanese guide came back outraged and complained to Bonnie. Later Ken lied and said he told them there was plenty of room and to please join him.  I had a great day and added 34 new species to my life list.  Unfortunately I developed a bad case of chiggers and was also bitten by another spider on my hip.

Sunday, November 6, 2011 I left the lodge at Wildsumaco after breakfast and walked down to the lower feeders where I saw the Ecuadoran Piedtail and many other beautiful hummingbirds, pigeons, and Seed finches.  However, it was painstaking to remember the field marks and look the birds up later in the book.  I needed a guide.  I only added 18 new species.

Monday, November 7, 2011 it rained all night long and into the morning but I got up for 5:30 AM breakfast anyway and afterwards went for a long walk to the waterfall trail.  It was a beautiful trail.  After a while a flock came and I saw the White-backed Fire-eye the beautiful Ornate Flycatcher, and the cute Common Tody-flycatcher.  In the afternoon Bonnie finally arranged for a guide, Manuel.  He spoke no English but was very kind and carried my camera and tripod and knew the bird songs well and the names in English.  We went to the F.A.C.E. trail at the suggestion of Bonnie.  Ken was there but when he saw us coming he put his camera away and harrumphed off.  He went to the lodge and lied and told Bonnie that I walked in front of him while he was filming.  She had the nerve to tell me to choose a different trail from him next time! As if I know where he is going.  I haven't spoken to him since his assanine antics at La Selva when he refused to come down from the tower.  We heard an Ochre-breasted Antpitta and White-tailed Anthrush but couldn't get them to come out despite Miguel's valiant efforts.    Mercifully two new guests arrived, Howard and Amy.  Their son graduated from Clemson.

Tuesday, November 7, 2011 I again used the guide Miguel.  We walked the Lodge Loop and saw a Lined Forest Falcon and then the Benavides Trail where we had jaw dropping looks at the Ochre-breasted Antpitta.  Later a White-crowned Tapaculo practically walked over my foot it  was so close.  We also came across a Band-bellied Owl with an owlet.  After lunch we walked the F.A.C.E. trail again where we saw the beautiful Crimson-crested Woodpecker and a Short-tailed Anthrush with three chicks!  The Spotted Nightingale Thrush called repeatedly but would not reveal itself.    Two new guests arrived Alison and Jonas from Connecticut.

Wednesday, November 8, 2011 I went with Miguel to the Coopman's Trail to stalk the elusive but bizarre White-tipped Sicklebill hummingbird that does not come to feeders because the bill is so severely curved it cannot get into the holes and instead visits flowers.  We waited about 30 minutes but finally one came and I saw it very well placing its long bill into the flower.  Wow.  We also saw a Yellow-throated Bush-tanager and the very elusive Yellow-throated Spadebill and from the deck a Golden-collared Honeycreeper.  In the afternoon I walked by myself since it was raining again.  I tipped Miguel well for showing me some fantastic things.  I walked the entire waterfall trail and Piha trail before returning for dinner.  Wildsumaco's manager, Christina, was there.  She was going to drive us back to Quito the next day.

Thursday, November 10, 2011 I was getting anxious to get away from Ken.  It was becoming tiresome trying to avoid him and having to listen to his crazy talk to Bonnie.  I told Bonnie I wanted to leave first thing in the morning but Jim said some guests were coming and since neither one of them spoke Spanish they needed her there to interpret for them and wouldn't be able to leave until 9:30.  I said great I would like to leave at 9:30.  But when I returned to the lodge to pack Bonnie said she told Ken we could leave at 11:00 AM.  I think she actually liked him even though he had caused Jim to wait three hours for us at the dock at Coca and had insulted two of her other guests and run them off of the lower feeders.  I was outraged. I couldn't wait to get away from him and them.  I will never stay at Wildsumaco again.  I didn't like the cows, the noisy trucks going up and down the road from Parque Nacional Sumaco, and how I was being jerked around on our departure time to please Ken!  Finally at 11:30 AM Christina, Ken, and I loaded into a truck and drove four hours to Quito.  The road is very beautiful and crosses the 13,500 foot Papallacta Pass.  Finally we arrived at the Hilton where I said goodbye to Christina and finally the odious Ken.  Near midnight my sister, Sharon, finally arrived.

Friday, November 11, 2011, we walked from our hotel all the way to Old Town.  I saw an Eared Dove in Alameda Park to add one new bird for the day.  I was too afraid to take my binoculars out into town so I couldn't tell what the other birds up in the trees were.  After being robbed in Coca I was not about to have my binoculars stolen in Quito a day before Galapagos.  We walked the narrow Colonial Streets with their quaint shops.  Then we visited Basillica Del Voto a huge church with stained glass and iguanas and turtles for ornaments.  Next we walked to Plaza San Francisco Monastery, the oldest building in the city completed in 1534.  It housed a collection of ancient religious paintings and statues in Museo San Franciscano and had the most ornate altar I have ever seen.

Saturday, November 12, 2011, we flew from Quito to San Cristobal, Galapagos Islands.  From the tiny airport we were met by our guide, Rafael, and driven to a boat dock and then boarded our home for the next week, the 147 foot long M/Y Grace.  After a short briefing we were driven in a zodiak to shore and took a walk along Playa de Oro where we saw the first of Darwin's finches, the Small Ground Finch and the Medium Ground Finch, two week old Galapagos Sea Lions, Lava Lizards, and Sally Lightfoot Crabs.  There was one Lava Heron but I could not add it as a new species because Rafael said it is actually a subspecies of the Striated Heron I had seen at La Selva.  After our walk we headed back to the boat and set sail for Genovesa Island.   As we headed away from San Cristobal Sharon and I scanned the water and saw White-vented Storm-Petrels, Great Frigatebirds, Galapagos Brown Pelicans (which DNA testing has confirmed to be a separate species), Galapagos Shearwater, and Galapagos Petrel.   That evening we met the whole crew including our wonderful hotel manager, Deborah, and the great bar tender, Glenda.  We continued sailing all night in order to be at Genovesa by morning.  Unfortunately the engine is very loud and I was not able to sleep well.  The rocking of the boat didn't bother me but even a pillow and ear plugs could not keep the engine noise out.

Sunday, November 13, 2011 we visited Darwin Bay after breakfast.  We had a dry landing at Phillips Steps and saw Galapagos Mockingbird, Large Ground Finch, Vampire Finch which obtained its name from sucking off of other creatures and out over the water Wedge-rumped Storm Petrels, Red-billed Tropicbirds.
We walked right up to Nazca Boobies and Darwin's favorite food on the island, Galapagos Doves.  After enjoying all the birds we went snorkeling.  It was incredibly cold even with a wet suit so no one could stay in for longer than 30 minutes even though it was wonderful to swim with all the beautiful bright colored fishes including Mexican humped fish and Parrotfish among many others.

In the afternoon we visited Darwin Beach where we walked right up to Red-footed Boobies and their chicks, Large Ground Finches, Lava Gulls, Swallowtailed Gulls, Genovesa Mockingbird, and Granti Warbler Finch.  After our walk Sharon and I kayaked back to the Grace.  It was Sharon's birthday and the crew brought out a cake after dinner and sang happy birthday in English and Spanish.

Monday, November 14, 2011 we had sailed all night to land in  the morning on Isabella Island, the largest of the chain.  We awoke to a pod of Bridys Whales.  After breakfast we walked to Tagus Cove to Darwin Lake a curiosity that has no outlet but has a higher salt content than the Pacific Ocean.  On our walk we saw Galapagos Flycatcher, Flightless Cormorant, and Galapagos Penguin.  Then we took a zodiak ride past a wall with bright yellow corral.  Later we again went snorkeling.  While snorkeling a Galapagos Penguin flew right under us inches away.   The water was 19 degrees celsius.  Burr!

After lunch we visited Fernandina Island which is across the bay from Isabella and saw hundreds of Marine Iguanas standing guard of the beach.  There was a Galapagos Hawk in a tree.  Back at the boat I jumped in the water and went for a swim around the boat before we set sail.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011 we awoke at Urbina Bay where we took a short walk and found a juvenile Giant Tortoise and one Land Iguana.  The Land Iguanas are more shy than the marine iguanas we had seen previously.  They would let you get close enough to blow salt water out of their nostrils and into your hair but the Land Iguanas were much more wary.  As we returned to the beach to board the zodiak we found two juvenile Galapagos Hawks one eating a lobster that let us get very close.  We boarded the Grace and sailed to Punta Vicente Roca where we had the most amazing time snorkeling.  The water was slightly warmer allowing longer time in the water which was nice because as soon as we got there we found two Sunfishes.  We tried for photos but decided it would be more fun to actually swim with the sunfishes.  Rafael was very excited and said divers lived to swim with sunfish and that we were very lucky to have found them.  There were many Galapagos Sea Turtles as well and some swam right up to my face which was very exciting for me.  But the most exciting, one of the most exciting things of the whole trip was when a Pacific Manta-ray came within feet and turned its huge body toward me almost touching me.  I was a little bit scared but later Rafael said they only eat plankton.  There were also some puffer fish and many White-banded King Angel Fish.  Wow what a day! 

Wednesday, November 16, we landed at Bartolome Island and hiked to the Bartolome Summit for stunning views of Pinnacle Rock.  Afterwards we went snorkeling.  As soon as we got in Rafael found a White-tipped Reef Shark down in the rocks.  He touched its tail and made it swim toward us.  How exciting.  It was an incredible experience.  When we got out of the water the wind on the boat made it uncomfortable so we jumped in the hot tub on board to warm up.  Glenda was always there to greet us on board with some fresh squeezed juice.  Then we sailed to the refueling area which took quite a while and allowed me to finish my book while lazing on deck.  In the afternoon we sailed to Bachas Beach, a small but pretty beach with two lagoons behind it, to look for Flamingoes.  They weren't there.  It was the first day of my entire trip to Ecuador that I did not see a new species of bird.  I had told Rafael on the first day that I had seen 265 bird species by the time I arrived in Galapagos and that it was a goal of mine to reach 300 before I left.  In looking over the potential species there (and there aren't that many birds in Galapagos) we both agreed that it would be extremely difficult and probably impossible but he said he would do his best.  He told me that he was an ornithologist and had studied birds on the Faralone Islands off the coast of San Francisco for a month.  I looked over my book trying to see what was possible.  We both agreed that the crake and the Galapagos Rail would be very difficult if not impossible.  He 100% guaranteed a Cactus Finch though.

Thursday, November 17, we landed at Rafael and Glenda's home town, Puerto Ayora, Santa Cruz Island.  There is a bustling city there full of tourists, internet cafes, restaurants, and hotels.  In the morning we visited Charles Darwin Station to see the captive breeding program for Giant Tortoises.  The little tiny ones were so cute.  At the station Rafael found a Cactus Finch just as promised.  Afterwards we wandered around Puerto Ayora looking for souvenirs and getting some much needed exercise.  All that eating, eating, eating was developing into a bulge around my mid section.  At 11:45 we caught a bus in town that drove us up to the "highlands" to Primicias a ranch where you  can get close and personal with wild Giant Tortoises.  First we met Glenda there and they served us a delicious lunch of fresh fish and fresh fruit.  Then we walked around looking at these ancient creatures.  As I was trying to get a picture Rafael yelled for me to come over and low and behold there was a Paint-billed Crake!  Holy Cow.  I had written that one off.  Then incredibly a Galapagos Rail flew up.  Oh my god.  What a day.  Rafael also showed me a Small Tree Finch there.  After enjoying all the tortoises we drove a little bit farther to visit a lava tube and still later two giant sink holes where Rafael found a Woodpecker Finch and a Warbler Finch to bring my daily total to six new species.  I was getting very close now at 295.   We returned to the boat and sailed all night.

Friday, November 18 we awoke at the best island of all and Rafael's favorite, Espanola Island.  After a delicious breakfast we landed on Punta Suarez and went for a walk where I saw Large Cactus Finch and Hood Mockingbird.  Finally I was able to walk right up to the beautiful Blue-footed Booby.  But the best sighting of the day and indeed the entire trip was to sit within feet of two Waved Albatrosses performing their bizarre mating dance.  What a treat.  Joy rapture.  It was something I will never forget my whole life.  We all walked back to the boat as if stunned.  Everyone had been effected.  After lunch we went snorkling.  The water was nearly tolerable but we didn't see anything exciting like sharks or sunfish, just some colorful fish and one swimming Sea Lion.  Then we sailed to Gardner Bay where we walked on a gorgeous white sand (actually ground up coral) before returning to the boat for our sail back to where we began.  That night Rafael bought some fresh lobster which the cook prepared for us for dinner which was fabulous.  That evening we sat in the lounge drinking with the four British people.  Glenda came in and put on a Spanish song that she lip sinked and danced to.    It was hilarious. 

Saturday, November 19 we said goodbye to our wonderful staff.  I hugged Glenda goodbye and we got in the Zodiak which would take us to San Cristobal.  As we loaded up the zodiak Glenda stood on deck waiving goodbye. The zodiak driver said to her in Spanish, " are you going to cry?"   When we landed Rafael called over a taxi for me and we drove up a dirt road a few kilometers until he heard a bird singing.  We got out and saw the Chatham Mockingbird which brought me to 298 birds! Wow.  Incredible.   So close to 300 which seemed so impossible when I got to San Cristobal a week earlier.  After visiting the Galapagos National Park Visitor Center we drove to the airport and then flew back to Quito for our return to the US.  It had been an unforgettable trip.  I will never forget all the great wildlife sightings, beautiful birds and beautiful scenery of Ecuador but most of all, all the wonderful people I met like Rafael and Glenda, our fantastic guide Jose, kind Miguel, my guide at Wildsumaco, and the sweet bar tender at La Selva, Bernardo and Victor.  They all made getting over the shock of the robbery in Coca by the Coca Police easier,getting over the abuse of Ken earlier in the trip, and made the whole experience of Ecuador such a pleasure.