Breaux Bridge, Louisiana: A River View

On a lovely day in March, a view from the riverside pocket park in Breaux Bridge:

River view, Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. March 2015.

Long Journeys: The River .... and a Sidebar on Journeywomen

Love Your Big Muddy

I love that this river adventurer is a woman, she's of a certain age, and she's a fellow Missourian. She lives 30 miles from my hometown.

Her precís (I've added the links):

My name is Janet Moreland. I am a Missouri River paddler from Columbia, MO, most often found at or near Cooper's Landing. I recently graduated from college with a degree in Education, and am now certified to teach middle school social studies and/or science. Currently, I am in the midst of a 3700-mile Source-to-Sea solo kayak expedition from the Missouri River source at Brower's Spring, Montana, to the Gulf of Mexico. I left Columbia on April 14, 2013, and anticipate a November completion. My mission includes elements of education, environmental stewardship, and empowering youth, women, and men to confidently pursue their dreams.

Here is a podcast interview with Ms. Moreland at The Pursuit Zone.


Fear

In her post here, Ms. Moreland talks about times recently when she felt fear. It was good to see how she felt it and what she did about it. [The bold and underlining are mine.] 

On a treacherous lake crossing that she'd received numerous warnings about, she wrote in her journal: “I need to stop wondering if I’m making the right decision and just trust my judgment. I can SO do this!”

At one campsite where she worried about mountain lions, she reported: " .... That very night, after I was zipped up in my tent, some animal made a loud noise right around dusk just outside my tent. Holy mackerel! It was a honk, cough, yell, growl, screech, or something, I don’t know what.  “Stay calm,” I told myself. “What do you need to do to survive?”  I took the safety off of my bear spray, got my buck knife out, grabbed my machete, and put my whistle around my neck.  I was hoping it was not a mountain lion. ..... "

During a nasty electrical storm: " .... I couldn’t help but think I had just inserted into the ground a lighting rod, which seemed to be the high point on shore, and right outside my shelter.  Oh well, there was nothing more I could do.  I had to wait out the storm, and I did it squatting with only my feet touching ground and my hand on my SPOT “SOS” button.  I thought if lightning struck me, my reflex would press the button....." 

How Ms. Moreland's handled her fear reminded me of two other women who undertook long journeys:

This hilarious telling of Molly Langmuir's four-day solo hike in the Tetons, where she was terrified of encountering a bear. My favorite bit:

On a scale of one to 10, how much fun did you have?
I'm actually not sure I had any fun. The trip was challenging, which I always like, and now that I'm through it, something I'm glad I did, but I basically spent the entire time in a state of sheer terror, so there wasn't much room for fun. I guess a one?

And the book, Wild, by Cheryl Strayed. She told herself that she did not fear mountain lions, bears, or rattlesnakes. That this was necessary for her to be able to embark on the hike. If she'd allowed herself to consider fear, then she couldn't have gone.


But here's the sidebar on journeywomen

There's a lot of debate in the news right now about banning the niqab in some places or not banning, and about imperialist countries imposing their cultural shoulds on other cultures, that a culture will stick up for itself, thank you very much, and so on.

The other day, when I went to the Alamogordo Balloon Invitational by myself, without asking the permission of a brother or father or uncle or husband or son, having driven to the event by myself, in a car that I alone own, and walked around the event unescorted, I appreciated - yet again - how lucky I am that I have the choice to do all of the things I just listed.

When I think about Ms. Moreland, or Ms. Strayed, or Ms. Longmuir's journeys, it is with appreciation that these women have the choice to do such things.

"Such things" including the fundamental human right to use our intelligence and talents to their fullest, without religious, cultural, or other restriction imposed on us because we are women.

This right is called self-determination: the determination of one's own fate or course of action without compulsion; free will.

So while the debate goes on, I'd like this basic tenet not to be lost.


When I'm feeling exasperated about the latest indignity done to women somewhere - control dressed up in the guise of culture - I like to play this video.

Some might consider it a metaphorical middle finger. 

Jetty Jacks

I went to the Rio Grande Nature Center State Park in Albuquerque awhile back.

There are jetty jacks there. I like the name. Jetty jacks.

Jetty jacks, Rio Grande Valley State Park, New Mexico

Jetty jacks were big in the 50s and 60s, installed along rivers to:

1. Prevent floods from deepening a river channel when it scoured the river bed of sedimentation, which over time, resulted in a longer gap between new-normal river levels and the rootline of riverine vegetation, resulting in more difficulty in said vegetation's access to water
2. Prevent "scouring" of levees or banks, in which flood waters scooped out the bottoms of the banks as they rushed by, resulting in unstable levees or banks
3. Allow the capture and retention of sediment and flood debris, resulting in the build-up and maintenance of strong banks, resulting in safe environments for trees - bosques - to grow along the river, and preventing the flooding beyond the stronger banks

 Thousands of jetty jacks were installed along the Rio Grande. And, for the most part, they performed as designed. 

Jetty jacks, Rio Grande Valley State Park, New Mexico

But then the dams (e.g. Jemez Canyon, Abiquiu, Galisteo, and Cochiti) were built, which changed the dynamics of river flooding that made the jetty jacks effective. For example, jetty jacks collected fine sediment from river flooding to build and maintain banks, but the dams sharply curtailed the flow of fine sediment.

Jetty jacks, Rio Grande Valley State Park, New Mexico

Over time, the jetty jacks became a hindrance rather than a benefit.

Jetty jacks, Rio Grande Valley State Park, New Mexico

A detailed discussion of the jetty jack history - as of 2002 - here:  Taking Out the Jetty Jacks: Issues of Jetty Jack Removal in Bosque and River Restoration Planning, by Kathy Grassel, 2002.

In the above article, Ms. Grassel refers to the plans to remove the jacks from the river portion managed by the Santa Ana Pueblo.

Here is that story: Bringing Back the Bosque - Santa Ana Pueblo story.  Published in 2001.

Sidebar: Hmm. This article, published in High Country News, was funded by the McCune Foundation. Ahhh, I thought that sounded familiar.

Jetty jacks, Rio Grande Valley State Park, New Mexico

What interests me is now that a decade has passed, how'd the removal work out? Expectations met?

Per this article, published in 2008, it appears there have, indeed, been positive results. An excerpt:

Along one bank, the Pueblo has removed all "jetty jacks," large metal structures that were installed in the 1950s and 1960s to straighten the river. Removing the jetty jacks allowed the Pueblo to recontour sections of the riverbank, which creates a lower floodplain that helps to reduce channel incision. The recontoured sections have experienced natural revegetation. In addition, the Pueblo has created backwater areas and swales that are planted with native vegetation. The backwater areas increase potential habitat for the Rio Grande silvery minnow, which requires slow-moving currents for spawning. Preliminary surveys (2005-2006) for the minnow on the Pueblo have shown an increase from earlier captures (1995-2000).

Like the Rio Grande silvery minnow, the southwestern willow flycatcher has benefited from habitat changes on the Pueblo. Exploratory surveys in 2001 detected only migratory willow flycatchers. During the summer of 2005, the Santa Ana Pueblo started surveying all suitable riparian habitats within its boundaries for willow flycatchers. After three years of baseline standardized surveys, detections of migratory willow flycatchers have significantly increased from original 2001 estimates. More importantly, southwestern willow flycatchers started residing on the Pueblo in 2006. These new resident flycatchers are defending territories within naturally regenerating riparian vegetation at the confluence of the Rio Jemez and the Rio Grande. This confluence supported very little vegetation in 2001 but is now densely vegetated. The Pueblo used this riparian regeneration as an example to grade the riverbank in an adjacent area to increase sediment deposition. This will create the same type of natural regeneration and expand the available riparian area in hopes that more southwestern willow flycatchers will take residence.

As with so many superficially-simple "problems," the decision to remove or leave in place jetty jacks isn't so simple. The "right" decision depends on: 

• Who you are - what is your interest in the river and the adjoining land
• Where the jacks are in relation to the river and to upstream dams
• What problems - if any - particular jacks are causing
• The return on the investment in the short, medium, and long-term of leaving the jetty jacks in place or removing them

San Antonio, New Mexico: The Rio Grande in Winter

The Rio Grande, December.
Highway 380, just outside San Antonio, New Mexico.

Rio Grande, Highway 380, outside San Antonio, New Mexico

Rio Grande, Highway 380, outside San Antonio, New Mexico

Rio Grande, Highway 380, outside San Antonio, New Mexico

Borjomi, Part 3: The Three Tests

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Every good fairy tale has three tests that heroes and heroines must pass. Indiana Jones had to solve three clues in The Last Crusade. Thus it was in our walk to the spring pool in Borjomi's Mineral Spring Park.

Once we got off the pavement and turned a bend, Sandy and I found ourselves in an idyllic wood. We soon arrived at a bridge over the River Mtkvari. It was so pretty, I called Kate and suggested that she come just this far to see how gorgeous it was.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

This was my kind of place: Trees, a river, spring flowers, mossy bark, cool woodland breeze, birdsong, piney scents. There was no one else around.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

 

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Presently we came upon a rivulet that fed into the Mtkvari. Shallow but somewhat wide, we carefully stepped on the rocks to cross over. A bit of a delicate operation to keep from getting our shoes wet, nothing onerous. I expressed my relief to Sandy that we'd successfully traversed the spot of trouble before getting to the spring pool. Sandy doubted this was the trouble spot as it seemed a little too easy.

We passed a grave.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

We went up a steepish hill. We went down the hill.

And then Sandy and I saw it. The real challenge. No rivulet this. It was an adolescent stream, bristling with watery bravado, fast. Big, slippery rocks. Falling into this would mean an injury or being pulled into the roiling Mtkvari. There was no gingerly stepping across stones here to avoid getting one's shoes wet.

How to pass? Ah. There were two stripped, straight limbs laid parallel to each other across the stream. Each was about five inches wide. The stream was too wide to enable the holding of one end of something on one bank while crossing to the other bank. The stream moved too fast and furious to stick a large branch into the wale for anchoring while crossing. No. One had to, for a space, walk what seemed like a tightrope.

Borjomi, Georgia. Second water crossing. Photo credit: Sandy.

And we did it, Sandy more nimbly than I, and with her attempting to give me a hand at my turn, in the form of a decrepit, dried branchlet that crumbled into the rapids below. It was the thought that counted. 

Much relieved that we'd passed the trouble spot, we headed confidently toward the spring pool. Along the way today, we'd touched base telephonically several times with a TLG colleague who'd walked partway on this trail just a couple of weeks ago. We called her again after achieving our little feat, to discover that she and her husband had turned back at the first rivulet (not because of its difficulty, but because they hadn't received good direction and thought perhaps the spring pool was simply too far ahead).

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

So Sandy and I pressed on through the beautiful wood.

We heard people's voices up ahead. As we came closer, we saw a woman standing on the bank of the river. And we looked where she looked.

Shit.

This is what we saw.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

The woman's companion was walking ever so carefully across a log across the River Mtkvari. He held on to a steel cable to maintain balance.

Then the woman went across.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Sandy and I could see what had to be the spring pool over on the other side, up the path a bit. Should we go across? Could we? Were we stupid? Or adventurous?

We were so close to the spring pool. We had passed the previous two tests. We must finish the challenge.

But first, let's take a moment to reflect on the Georgian belief of what deserves care and what doesn't. As you can see from the above, Georgians are cavalier about park visitors taking on this treacherous path to a spring pool. No signs of caution. And, you can't see this from the photo, but that steel cable is frayed smack in the middle of the log "bridge," and I pity the person who happens to be going across when it separates, notwithstanding the single bale wire holding it somewhat in place. 

Here is what we saw in the hotel wastebasket: 

Borjomi, Georgia. Hotel Victoria wastebasket warning.

Go figure. Though now that I think about it, maybe Georgians do need to have such stickers on trash containers.

BTW, this is a thought-provoking article (Why Smart People Make Dumb Mistakes) on how safety features in parks may actually contribute to injuries and death. I've linked to page 3 of the article, which goes straight to this point, but the entire article is excellent information about how our mental models affect our safety in the wilderness.     


But anyway, Sandy and I each went across the log, Sandy venturing first. Oooh, I will admit, it was a little scary! It made a tremendous difference having seen two people cross it before us.

Here are different perspectives:

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Sandy and I felt like we'd achieved a cool thing by walking across that log.

So we walked confidently to the spring pool, not worrying that we'd have to re-cross the log on the return trip, only to discover one more hurdle before reaching the pool:  

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Really, all we could do was laugh before crossing over.


Views of the spring pool:

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

The spring pool was rather anti-climactic after we passed our three tests, but we still dipped our feet into the lukewarm water.

The walk back was uneventful, though not without challenge of re-crossing our waters.

I dropped my backpack on the path before trotting into the brush for a wilderpee.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

We collected Kate at the park entrance and began our return to town center.

But just outside the park, we noted -- and I don't use this word lightly -- an amazing house in the process of renovation. It might be worth a trip back to Borjomi just to see the finished product. We had no idea of its provenance, but it was dazzling.

Blue-trimmed exterior and design reminiscent of America's "Painted Ladies."

San Francisco Painted Ladies on Alamo Park. California.

But there was a mirrored tile balcony that had us mesmerized.  

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

Borjomi, Georgia. Mineral Spring Park.

It was fine.

By the time we got back to town center, it was time for dinner, so we went to the restaurant adjacent to the train depot. We arrived in the nick of time, as all tables except one was filled. Most customers were women of all ages, drinking merrily and then later, dancing. Traditional Georgian dancing, and modern. Although the food was nothing special, Sandy, Kate, and I got into the fun of the happy dancing.

A pleasurable day.

Borjomi, Part 2: The Walk to the Walk

Having decided to walk to the spring pool in Mineral Spring Park, we got going.

The Mtkvari River runs through town.

Borjomi, Georgia.

Borjomi, Georgia.

Borjomi, Georgia.

Borjomi, Georgia.

In the photo above, you can see a place where people collect spring water. We crossed over the river and got us some. Sulfurous.  

 

Borjomi, Georgia. Entrance to Mineral Spring Park.

The Mineral Spring Park in Borjomi has a number of attractions.

There is a tram, which we took to a nearby bluff with a restaurant and ferris wheel on top.

 

Borjomi, Georgia. Tram station

Borjomi, Georgia. Tram station

Borjomi, Georgia. View of Mineral Spring Park from tram.

Borjomi, Georgia. View from Mineral Spring Park tram.

Borjomi, Georgia. Ferris wheel above Mineral Spring Park.

Borjomi, Georgia. View from Mineral Spring Park tram.

Back on ground, we entered the park. We saw decorative trees, some real, some fake. We saw a wedding party. Statues.

Borjomi - Mineral Spring Park

Borjomi - Mineral Spring Park

Borjomi - Mineral Spring Park

On the pleasing paved path, we passed through a children's amusement park. The last ride was a carnival sort of affair - a pirate ship. At the prow was a lifesize, leering pirate. At the bow was another life-size pirate. In the middle, looking down upon would-be passengers was a woman whose body only went to her hips, as in she had no legs, and who wore a blouse that only covered the top part of her breasts. Completely peculiar. And this is a kiddie ride. An example of Georgia's virgin-whore cultural paradox.

Apropos of nothing, it is a bit disorienting to be in a Georgian restaurant and hear an English-language rap song going on about f**king someone's p***y."

The paved path ended abruptly at the odd pirate ship ride. At this point, we wondered if we were still on track to find the spring pool, so we called the tourist guy, who assured us it was 2.5 kilometers from this point.

Kate decided to sit out the rest of the walk, and Sandy and I carried on. 

We'd been told there was a bit of a problem crossing over some water on the way.  A couple returning from their walk pantomimed having to lift their trouser hems a bit to step through some water.

Unknowingly, Sandy and I were about to embark on a

Borjomi, Part 1: Prelude

Borjomi, Georgia. Spring flowers in Mineral Spring Park.

The plan: A weekend in Borjomi and Bakuriani.

I collected Kate at her guesthouse in Tbilisi and then we went to Didube station to get a marshrutka to Borjomi, where we'd meet up with Sandy, who was coming in from Gori.

The marshrutka fare was 8 lari and the trip took about 2.5 hours.

Borjomi, Georgia. Hotel Victoria

Sandy had already arrived and checked out the Hotel Victoria, which we agreed would be fine.






















Cost was 20 lari per bed. We were in the top floor - the garret - in the Three Little Bears' room. En suite bath, assuming no one used the adjoining bedroom with king-size bed.







Fell in love with Borjomi immediately. Now this was the Georgia I'd had in mind when I signed up last year! Forests, rivers, parks. Shade. Beautiful and interesting architecture.

Across the street from the hotel was a small fairy-tale castle. Vacant and fallen into disrepair. The back of the building, and its second floor, is level with the street we were on. The building's front is on Borjomi's Little Park, with its two stories fully exposed.

Borjomi, Georgia.

Borjomi, Georgia.

On the way to lunch in Little Park, we walked along our hotel street, and then into the park.

We saw an intensely yellow house.

And a many-angled house.

Saw these steps between two houses. Reminded me of Tlaxcala, Mexico.

Borjomi, Georgia.

Steps in Tlaxcala, Mexico.Vecino Church.

Now that I pulled up the photo of the Tlaxcala steps, I don't see the connection so much. Maybe the connection clicked in my mind because Kate and I (and Pam) traveled together on that trip, too.

There was a lovely church courtyard in Little Park.

Borjomi, Georgia.

At lunch (forgettable), we saw this trophy on the restaurant wall, but didn't know what it was.

Walked across the park way to the graceful train station. Loved the play of light and shadow inside.

Borjomi, Georgia. Train station interior.

Borjomi, Georgia. Train station interior.

Borjomi, Georgia. Train station interior.

Borjomi, Georgia. Train station interior.

Borjomi, Georgia. Train station interior.

Borjomi, Georgia. Train station interior.

We poked our heads into the restaurant that shares the train station space. Impressed by the draped fabric beneath the greenhouse ceiling. We made a plan to eat dinner there that night and to listen to promised Georgian music.

Borjomi, Georgia. Restaurant adjacent to train station.

Borjomi, Georgia. Restaurant adjacent to train station.

Finished with lunch, it was time to take a walk.

We visited the information center and decided to go for the walk to the spring pool in Mineral Spring Park rather than for a hike in the national park. Based on other TLGers' experience, it seemed that hikes in the park were fraught with laugh-about-it-later near-disasters, while the walk in the Mineral Spring Park was really pretty, no drama attached.   

Or so we thought. (Note foreshadowing here.)