Journey into the Ape Caves

I am entering the final weeks of my second course in the

Environmental Science and Policy M.S. Program at JHU.

(Thus the reason behind the recent lack of posts)

The course has a fancy name, but it is essentially just geology,

so, for our final project, we were assigned

to research the geology of our region.

Instead of picking a topic like the history of

the Columbia River Gorge,

I decided to use the project as an opportunity to explore

a part of the northwest that I haven't been to yet: Mt Saint Helens.

So last Monday we hopped in the car and made

the two hour drive to the base of the mountain.

Our first stop was the Trail of Two Forests

where we walked over 2,000 year old lava flows

and crawled through tunnels formed when huge tree trunks

disintegrated from the heat of the surrounding lava.

After we had enough tree crawling we jumped back in the car

and drove to the mouth of the Ape Caves.

The Ape Caves were formed 1,900 years ago

when a large eruption caused a river of lava

to pour down the mountain. Upon exposure to air,

the outside layer of the lava flow formed a crust.

Within the crust, however, the lava remained liquid.

When the lava eventually drained from inside the crust,

long tunnels were left behind,

tunnels that, if you are brave enough, you can walk through.

We descended into the caves and within seconds it was pitch

black, wet, and freezing cold.

I couldn't see more than 2 feet in front of me with the tiny

flashlight that I was carrying,

so I resorted to just pointing my camera into the darkness

and hoping for the best.

Here is a shot of the walls of the cave up close:

and Casey plunging further into the darkness.

Orin, who had been a little crabby at the Trail of Two Forests

seemed to actually enjoy the cave...

either that or he was terrified of being heard

by the fabled Cave Monsters.

After exploring the caves, we made the ascent back to

sunshine, warmth, and Purple, who had been roasting

patiently in the car waiting for our return.

Next weekend we are considering making one more trip,

this time to the north side of the mountain

where the majority of the destruction occurred

during the 1980 volcano.

Baby Proof

There is no such thing as truly baby-proof.

All "baby proof" means is that sharp knifes have been

removed from the area, that outlets have been

plugged with those little plastic things,

and that there's no trace of light-colored carpet for several miles.

Regardless of any effort on my part

to keep Orin safe and out of trouble

(and to keep our house and belongings safe from Orin),

I am constantly looking up to see sights like this one:

I will give you a chance to figure out what's wrong in this picture:

Here's a clue...

different plastic car, same problem.

Just when you think that you have gotten

all expensive pieces of equipment out of reach,

you realize that you didn't account for the movable stool...

And even man's best friend can pose a hazard,

for it's apparently irresistibly tempting to sit on a dog's head.

And from what I hear the trouble has just begun.

Getting Muddy at the OCF

On Sunday, we drove to Eugene for the last day of

the Oregon Country Fair.

Everything was going as planned until we were about 30 minutes

from the entrance, at which point it started pouring.

But it wasn't just raining... there was thunder, lighting, the works.

So we decided to stop in town to get a bite to eat,

hoping that we could wait out the storm.

By the time we were done with lunch, it was still pouring,

but because we had bought tickets in advance, we figured we would

go to the fair, rain or no rain.

And miraculously, as soon as we pulled in the rain stopped.

However, it had left a mark, to say the least.

Getting muddy was inevitable,

it was just a matter of how muddy you chose to get.

While I tried to avoid the mud (with limited success)

it was hard to keep Orin out of it.

If it hasn't already become clear from the previous pictures,

the Oregon Country Fair is not a normal fair in any sense.

Instead of being in a big open field, it is tucked away in the trees.

All of the booths are permanent... some are tree houses,

some are forts, some are manned by wizards,

others feature crazy guys talking about saving the unicorns

and, of course, it is best not to forget the tree people

(they are always listening, you know)

Orin loved the fair.

He got to explore the mazes,

see all of the interesting sculptures and paintings,

dance to the various bands,

and gawk at the Super Tall People

and the naked mud people that, for your sake,

I have not posted pictures of.

He even got a necklace from a witch that

was giving out free beads

to all the babies who had braved the storm.

By the end of the day we were all thoroughly covered in mud,

but quite content,

except Orin who seemed a little reluctant to say goodbye.

"We will come back next year"... we promised...

"we can find you some mud somewhere else in the meantime"

Just as we were pulling away from the fair grounds,

as if it had been waiting for us the whole time,

the rain started up again and didn't stop for the rest of the night.

After this weekend and our experience at Bonnaroo,

I am starting to think it is Orin who brings the break in the clouds.

Mt Hood

Last weekend we decided to take a trip up to Mt. Hood for a hike.

Our ability to hike is limited now

because Orin no longer has any interest in being in a backpack

unless he is asleep, which he normally isn't.

However, we did manage to make it to our destination

before Orin insisted on dismounting.

There was a hidden lake at the end of the trail

which proved to be a great spot to do some exploring

and to get Orin's new shoes a little muddy.

Ah, the joys of summer.

New Shoes

The other day, Casey bought Orin a new pair of shoes,

but not just any shoes... tie-dye crocs.

It has been too hot lately for leather slippers,

and with Orin constantly on the move, no matter where we are,

(waterfront concerts, the Home Depot, public bathrooms etc.)

going barefoot doesn't always work.

I never realized how enthusiastic a person could be

about a new pair of shoes,

until Orin got home from the mall that day.

Eager to show me the new kicks,

he threw them at me like they were a book,

then plopped down in front of me and stuck out his foot.

So, of course, I obliged.

Which made him very happy indeed.

He then proceeded to prance around the house

dancing and yelling and throwing things.

After a few hours of breaking the shoes in at the house

it was time for a change.

Luckily for Orin, that night was the Molalla Buckaroo:

a perfect place to wear tie dye crocs.

It didn't matter to Orin that everyone else had flags

and horses and cowboy boots
Orin had his awesome new shoes.

What more could a kid ask for?

"Tails" of a Reader

Ever since his grandparent's visit,

Orin has discovered a new love: books.

I attribute it to something that my mother (the super librarian)

or Dean (the biggest book worm in history)

slipped into Orin's sippy cup during their stay with us.

Some double-dose of book-loving potion,

because ever since they left all Orin wants to do is read.

Here is the cycle that now fills my entire morning:

I see Orin at his bookshelf making a selection,

which, despite the fact that he as an enormous number of books,

is inevitably the book given to him by his Great Aunt Jeanne,

a book that now appears in my nightmares, "Tails."

"Tails," is in fact, a great book.

It is perfect for babies because it has hidden flaps to open,

various textures to feel, a scratch-and-sniff,

and different tails to wag.

But, after reading it 214,567,098 times,

I wouldn't mind a new one.

But Tails it is, and here he comes...

Tails is heavy, so sometimes the approach takes a while.

Occasionally flaps flip open, leading to increased frustration,

but he perseveres nevertheless.

He then lifts it over his head,

and throws it at me.

Next, he positions himself in my lap.

At this point, I have no choice,

regardless of whatever else I was doing,

it is now time to read.

I no longer need to look at the pages,

I know the entire thing by heart.

And so, of course, does Orin

who loves to open the flaps, pull on the tails,

hatch the baby alligators, etc.

When Casey gets home from work,

Orin gladly takes the opportunity to entice a new victim.

But Casey, having had his fair share of Tails,

has several evasive techniques up his sleeve.

First, the classic, read something else over his shoulder.

If that doesn't work, there is always the strategy of

grabbing a different book and trying to read in a

new and interesting position to distract Orin.

That doesn't always go well.

When his parents resist,

sometimes Orin can convince his Uncle Steven to read to him,

or else he settles for reading to himself.
Other books will distract him for a while,
but once he reaches the last page

of "A lot of Otters," "BooBoo, or "Baby Faces,"

He cycles back to Tails.

And there is certainly no better time to read it

then now.

And so, after a long post, I am off.

After all, I have a book to read.