Yucatan and Riviera Maya

As we dig ourselves out from the snows of Christmas and the chigger bites fade (more on this later), it is alas time to record our last travels of 2009, a year which began in New Zealand and ends with more--albeit less exotic-- changes yet in store. As such, this will likely be the last installment of SBTA, and I do not know what will follow.

We began our travels in Chichen Itza, the center of the Toltec/Mayan world, and a part of Mexico where the Mayan language is still commonly spoken. We were lucky to be the first on site with an excellent guide on the day we visited. The centerpiece of Chichen Itza is Kukulcan, a remarkable architectural achievement that echoes with the call of the quetzal and reveals the descent of snake/bird god quetzalcoatl at the Spring equinox.

Although the jungle has returned, it is surmised that environmental degradation and drought are what drove the Mayans from the Yucatan southward a full 200 years before the arrival of the Spanish.
Alone with these ruins in the silence of early daylight, their grandeur is quite impressive-- and haunting. As the hawkers, crowds and heat arrive, the atmosphere is more carnival than sacred.
After Chichen Itza and some initial birding excursions, we headed coastward to Tulum, which boasts its own ruins,
stopping along the way to swim in a cenote and visit yet more ruins at Coba (not as impressive as either Tulum or Chichen, but you can climb to the top),
A rather large chunk of our time was devoted to birding, and we saw 57 new species (55 of which we photographed). Our beach bungalow in Tulum was just North of the magnificent and massive Sian Ka'an biosphere reserve, where we saw our first Yucatan Jays--and severely tested the suspension of our little rental car on the muddy, potholed roads. By far, our day of birding in the small village of Muyil was a highlight. This is where was stalked the elusive Trogon among the eerie Muyil ruins, and picked up a nasty case of chiggers in the surrounding jungle. See our birding blog for pics.

On the way back up to Cancun to catch our flight home we stopped at a little private reserve, Achun Chen, where we visited a cave/cenote and ended up seeing both species of Mot-Mots and other birds.

Venice

As the sun set to our right and the full moon rose behind, we boarded the vaporetto from Aeroporto Marco Polo to Lido, the thin barrier island that separates the lagoon of Venice from the Adriatic Sea. This is where Thomas Mann's Von Aschenbach retreated to assuage his wanderlust and ultimately to die. Lido is "young" compared to Venice proper, and reminded me, in places, of Charleston. The night cooled quickly, threatening rain, and we were very tired from the long flight, so we stumbled into an quaint little restaurant (two tables!) and enjoyed a fantastic dinner of local fish grilled in butter and garlic, accompanied by a crisp Sauvignon.

Our first day in Venice was cold and rainy, and we immediately became lost in the tangle of narrow alleyways. As all tourists do, we found our way to Piazza San Marco. The balance of the day was spent out of the drizzle and in museums: Il Museo Correr, the Peggy

Guggenheim and the Academia. The following day was sunny and warm, an interesting contrast to the day prior. We strolled the length of the island, starting at the far end of the Grand Canal, stopping for a cappuccino at the Rialto bridge and wending our way back to the Basilica.

The grandeur, variety and detail of Venice's palazzos and churches is staggering, even 500 years after her prime.

Even so, it is hard not to feel like one of a million fleas on a dead dog during the day as the streets teem with tourists and the shops and restaurants that cater to them (I suppose that includes us, too). At night, the crowds dissipate, and the lighted facades and dark medieval alleyways form a chiaroscuro that recaptures a hint of the old, living island-city. From the square, we continued eastward past the ancient shipyards of the Arsenal, where the tight alleys are replaced by relatively broad boulevards.

At its Eastern extreme, the island is surprisingly placid, verdant and uncrowded. This shot was taken near La Biennale, where pieces from emerging artists from around the globe were on exhibition. We stopped into (free) exhibits by New Zealand and Icelandic artists.
The last two days were spent exploring the diverse bird life along the Adriatic coast from the outskirts of Trieste to the Po delta near Ravenna. Despite their relative proximity, the days provided very distinct experiences. The Isola della Cona, at the mouth of the Isonzo River, is a small but incredibly rich reserve with several blinds and an impressive three story observation tower. On the second day, we relied upon the formidable Menotti Passarella, who guided us through the Po's maze of waterways to various avian hot spots, including this flock of flamingos (that long pinkish-while line on the water at left). You can check out our birding blog for more.

White Columbus Day

Even as the Fall colors are just getting started on the St. Anthony Main bridge to Nicollet Island.

Seattle, Anacortes and the Northern Cascades

As the first assault of winter arrived back in Minnesota, we were fortunate enough to be in Washington enjoying a spell of warm, sunny days and visiting two of my favorite people from New College, John and Kristi.

Although hastily conceived, the trip coincided with the Fall migration, so after sleeping off the over-indulgence that accompanies seeing old friends, we headed north to Fidalgo Island to do some birding and tramping. Our luck and the weather held on our hike up to Hidden Lake (video below), which at 6,600 feet and 48N latitude included a lot of up and a fair bit of tramping across ice and snow. The magnificent view was more than worth the effort.

Back down at sea level, we enjoyed a beautiful sunset over Rosario Beach, a great birding spot (you can visit our "Birds we've seen" blog for bird pics).
Just south of Rosario, Deception Pass is a mecca for kayakers. On the ebb tide, terrain and flowing water combine to form several dramatic whirlpools and boils.
Although we are nowhere near brave enough to try anything like that, John (a very skilled paddler) graciously took us on an urban kayak tour on Lake Union in downtown Seattle.

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Sailing the Apostle Islands

Last summer, we paid our first visit to Bayfield and took the ferry to Madeline Island last for a 25 mile bike tour. This year, we returned to the area (Pike's Bay) for a 4 day coastal cruising course with Thom Burns of Northern Breezes Sailing. Our boatmates Bill and Eric (father and son) shared the experience.

As we drove up from Minneapolis, the forests showed increasingly broad flashes of orange, yellow and red. The cool Summer has thus far been followed by a warm Autumn, allowing the color changes to progress slowly and the green to linger. A pair of Sandhill Cranes fattening up among a flock of Canadian Geese portends the Fall migration, and the still balmy evenings evoke whispers of an Indian Summer.

We took advantage of perfect sailing weather for the first two days, putting Taboo (a 36' Catalina) through her paces and soaking up instruction from Thom. We slept aboard, and spent what little free time we had studying for our bareboat certification tests.
The winds shifted and rains approached on day three, but this did not dampen our spirits as we headed for Saxon Bay, 23 miles down the south shore. Motoring into an unfamiliar harbor in the dark and rain was a bit of a challenge, but was rewarded with a feeling of accomplishment (as well as beer and pie).
The winds and weather were more favorable on the return trip, and left us looking forward to include a bit of sailing in our upcoming trips.

Century

Still looking snazzy in her Curious George jersey, Kristen breezed through her first century along the Munger Trail. All told, it took us just over 8 hours to cover the 100 miles, starting at Hinckley and turning at Otter Creek, a little south of Duluth.

It was hotter and more humid that we had anticipated. Still, there were plenty of deer to shoo off the trail in the morning and some touches of early fall color to enjoy.

Arboretum Mushrooms

Last time we were at the arboretum (May), we found wild asparagus, ramps, fiddleheads and morels. With summer winding down, we returned to see what new bounty the forest floor had to offer. We were not disappointed.

Heaps and heaps of wee puffballs along the trail . . .

and some real giants, too. We had a puffball feast last night with some we found near Medicine Lake yesterday.
Lots of lovely, yummy oyster mushrooms (Pleurotus ostreatus).
A nice woody shelf mushroom, which may be several years old.
Just as we were coming of the trail, this perfect little hen of the woods (Grifola frondosa) called out, "nibble me."

Minnesota Wilderness (with wolf encounter)

In an age when most of the "woods" have been replaced by degraded second-growth, we are very lucky in Minnesota to have over a million acres of contiguous pristine public lands. From forest floor to the canopy, and in the waters between, the Boundary Waters and surrounding Great North Woods are truly intact ecosystems.

The Gunflint Trail (look closely at the center of the picture below) runs through the heart of this wilderness, from Grand Marais on the north shore of Lake Superior all the way to the Canadian border.

Of course, no trip to this area is complete without some canoeing. Here is an early-morning picture taken on Poplar Lake.
For comparison, here's a picture taken while dogsledding on nearby Gunflint Lake during our March 2008 trip. Then as now, we were overwhelmed with the scale and beauty of this area. We also did some back-country skiing on that occasion, and saw lots of moose tracks.

And although it's a little early for the Fall migration, birds are still plentiful. Here's a pair of yellow-bellied sapsuckers working over a birch tree along the Meads Lake portage.

And here's a gray jay checking us out (look at the center of the picture below). Other sightings included the red crossbill, belted kingfisher, sharp-shinned hawk, red-breasted nuthatch, ruby-crowned kinglet, brown creeper, white-throated sparrows and a variety of warblers. Driving home along the North Shore, we stopped to check out a large group of juvenile mergansers.
On Wednesday evening, we took a hike to South Lake on the Canadian border. After pushing through miles of dense undergrowth (and feasting on wild blueberries and raspberries) on what was little more than a deer track, we finally came to the end of the trail, an old voyageur portage site.
As we stepped up onto the small clearing to get a better look at the lake (where, incidentally, a magnificent loon was cruising the shallows), we heard a heavy rustling from the forest to our left and saw a flash of gray come out from the trees and move towards us, parting the high grass in its wake. Then, just 10 meters away from where we stood, a massive Timber Wolf appeared on the edge of our clearing. When he saw us, he stood stock still and fixed us for a few seconds with an emotionless, calculating stare. I think one of us said, "umm, that's a wolf . . . a big wolf." He then turned and padded back into the forest, leaving us both in absolute awe.

Gunflint Mushroom Porn

After a dry summer, the heavy rains of the week past produced a bumper crop of mushrooms, and great variety. Above, a patch of Rusula in the shade of some spruce trees.
Here's a classic hericium coralloides, or "coral tooth", fruiting from the end of a cut log. We couldn't resist taking a bit of this home for dinner.
On the other extreme, amantia muscaria, or "fly agaric" is a potent hallucinogen.
These little opportunists were growing out of a moss-covered birch.

And, finally, a "hat trick" of fungi along the trail.

Images of Iceland

The glacial lake Jökulsárlón, flowing off the mountains and into the sea.
Reynisfjara beach . . .
whose basalt cliffs jut upward, forcing perspective like some impossible city of stone
and whose black beach stretches through the mist towards Dyrholaey.

Falls and grassy highlands above Skogar, on the trail to Þórsmörk ("Thor's Forest").

The volcanic palette of Heimaey Island from Eldfell ("Fire Mountain")
and a pair of happy trampers overlooking Eldfell from her sister mountain, Helgafell.
Darkening skies above the lighthouse at Gardskagi

and a lone dwelling near the bird cliffs at Hafnaberg.

For some experiences, words fail and pictures are inadequate to the task of full description. Still, they have the power to stir memory, and to render the perfect details present for us again. Like the marvelous langoustines at Höfn, or the horses sheltering in the ruins of an old farmhouse as sun set on the way home, finding a dead puffin (our first) at Reynisfjara, then looking up at the cliffs teeming with life. Whimbrels in the morning, cairns (and more cairns), trees and gravestones behind a chapel in Reykavik, a loon teaching her chick to dive and a last family of terns at Kleifarvatn. If there is a god, it is in these moments.