Baja Day 5
I don't seem to be very consistent with posting these day after day, am I? Hmph
I'm guessing that if Freud looked into this he would probably say that I'm sexually deprived or something. But really, I"m just lazy as all hell.
4/7/10
We finally got sick of the wind and took action, no more complaining about it. After breakfast we all took the study shovels and attempted to build a bunker. Yes, not a hole, not a ditch, a friggin' bunker. The plan is essentially to dig deep enough to shield us from incoming sand bullets, put a tarp over it for shade, and eventually use it as a faux-rookery. Our group could only work on it for so long before we had to leave for our study. Mudflats today, and we'd decided to do the Terrestrial Study on top of it.
I had thought it would be fairly easy because I had taken (supposedly) extensive notes on the first day's hike. It was, generally, but we suddenly came across a number of Cholla that we couldn't identify. Thus, we deemed them “Sucky Cholla”, “Flowery Cholla”, and “Fuzzy Cholla”, and I believe we called one planta “Pokey Bush”. Brilliant adjectives, I know, but it's a scientific process...just...without the scientific part. I can't wait to identify these at home. Halfway through the study Josh burst a blood blister. Instead of cleaning the wound up he wrote “Baja 2010” on one of the rocks there. This is probably impossible, but I hope that lasts until next year until someone finds it. Creepy much? I say so.
Mudflats proved to be harder than I thought. I was note taker, and it's much harder to record abundance of mollusks against the roar of the wind and when your notebook is being constantly ripped out of your hands. Once again, our group imitated foreign accents, and lucky for us Nulty came along to tape it. The gold flecks in the sand initiated the same reaction as when we had first come here: I was ecstatic to be able to identify something I had learned about: Biotite Mica! When we counted the ray depressions we found a round ray depression that was like three feet across! I had no idea that they could get that big. I didn't have time to stare at it too long, as we had to move fast before the tide came in. I think it was mostly out of fear, but our group didn't go very far into the water before concluding that there were no swimmer crabs. The water was too rough, we'd say.
To get back to camp we decided to wade through the water and cross to the rocky intertidal. Cooper was especially paranoid of the stingrays, while the rest of us feard for our lives from the swimmer crabs. When we finally got back I decided to put on some more sunscreen before hanging out in the now half-completed bunker. But as I did I felt a painful sting on my left foot, where I noticed a sort of puncture wound. I yet again limped gracefully to the first aid tent where Natalie Testa's dad helped me out. When he put the hyrdrogen peroxide on it, rather than the notorious sting letting me know bacteria was being killed, what it did instead was completely blanch, and stiffen. As something that perplexed even an adult on the trip I immediately started to panic. I had no idea what had bitten me, and frankly it concerned me. I hadn't paid attention and probably stepped on something poisonous, then I would be solely responsible for ruining the trip if I suddenly became crippled. I could see the headline now: “Klutzy teenager becomes poisoned on field study, ruins trip for all” Do I have to be so damned accident prone? What is this, the fifth time I've had to have someone help me with some minute injury? In any case, the wound doesn't hurt, and the comforting warm sands of the dunes made it feel much better. If I'm dead by the morning, at least I'll die peacefully.
Having silent moments like on the dunes gives me time to think. Moreover, reflect upon the trip so far. It's amazing, really, that I'm here. Four years ago I would have never expected this, and now I'm living it. I'm one of fifty-one lucky students who are able to come here. I'm just, lucky, incredibly fortunate. Though, I still have one regret. As I watch students go to and fro over camp I notice that so many of them have their fathers here. It's times like this that I miss my dad, incredibly. It's been nearly two years since I've seen him and I already feel like there's a void in my life. A father figure of some sort. Someone that'll pat me on the shoulder and go “good job, kiddo”. We never did much together but it was always enjoyable, because he was the only one in the family I could identify with. He never mentioned wanting to go on a camping trip of any sorts, so I'm not even sure he would have come. Hell, I don't even know if he was able to swim. But I can't help but think that if things had been different I somehow would have been able to convince him to come, and I would have bonded with him even more. It's useless to dream, I should just be thankful for what I have.
I'm guessing that if Freud looked into this he would probably say that I'm sexually deprived or something. But really, I"m just lazy as all hell.
4/7/10
We finally got sick of the wind and took action, no more complaining about it. After breakfast we all took the study shovels and attempted to build a bunker. Yes, not a hole, not a ditch, a friggin' bunker. The plan is essentially to dig deep enough to shield us from incoming sand bullets, put a tarp over it for shade, and eventually use it as a faux-rookery. Our group could only work on it for so long before we had to leave for our study. Mudflats today, and we'd decided to do the Terrestrial Study on top of it.
I had thought it would be fairly easy because I had taken (supposedly) extensive notes on the first day's hike. It was, generally, but we suddenly came across a number of Cholla that we couldn't identify. Thus, we deemed them “Sucky Cholla”, “Flowery Cholla”, and “Fuzzy Cholla”, and I believe we called one planta “Pokey Bush”. Brilliant adjectives, I know, but it's a scientific process...just...without the scientific part. I can't wait to identify these at home. Halfway through the study Josh burst a blood blister. Instead of cleaning the wound up he wrote “Baja 2010” on one of the rocks there. This is probably impossible, but I hope that lasts until next year until someone finds it. Creepy much? I say so.
Mudflats proved to be harder than I thought. I was note taker, and it's much harder to record abundance of mollusks against the roar of the wind and when your notebook is being constantly ripped out of your hands. Once again, our group imitated foreign accents, and lucky for us Nulty came along to tape it. The gold flecks in the sand initiated the same reaction as when we had first come here: I was ecstatic to be able to identify something I had learned about: Biotite Mica! When we counted the ray depressions we found a round ray depression that was like three feet across! I had no idea that they could get that big. I didn't have time to stare at it too long, as we had to move fast before the tide came in. I think it was mostly out of fear, but our group didn't go very far into the water before concluding that there were no swimmer crabs. The water was too rough, we'd say.
To get back to camp we decided to wade through the water and cross to the rocky intertidal. Cooper was especially paranoid of the stingrays, while the rest of us feard for our lives from the swimmer crabs. When we finally got back I decided to put on some more sunscreen before hanging out in the now half-completed bunker. But as I did I felt a painful sting on my left foot, where I noticed a sort of puncture wound. I yet again limped gracefully to the first aid tent where Natalie Testa's dad helped me out. When he put the hyrdrogen peroxide on it, rather than the notorious sting letting me know bacteria was being killed, what it did instead was completely blanch, and stiffen. As something that perplexed even an adult on the trip I immediately started to panic. I had no idea what had bitten me, and frankly it concerned me. I hadn't paid attention and probably stepped on something poisonous, then I would be solely responsible for ruining the trip if I suddenly became crippled. I could see the headline now: “Klutzy teenager becomes poisoned on field study, ruins trip for all” Do I have to be so damned accident prone? What is this, the fifth time I've had to have someone help me with some minute injury? In any case, the wound doesn't hurt, and the comforting warm sands of the dunes made it feel much better. If I'm dead by the morning, at least I'll die peacefully.
Having silent moments like on the dunes gives me time to think. Moreover, reflect upon the trip so far. It's amazing, really, that I'm here. Four years ago I would have never expected this, and now I'm living it. I'm one of fifty-one lucky students who are able to come here. I'm just, lucky, incredibly fortunate. Though, I still have one regret. As I watch students go to and fro over camp I notice that so many of them have their fathers here. It's times like this that I miss my dad, incredibly. It's been nearly two years since I've seen him and I already feel like there's a void in my life. A father figure of some sort. Someone that'll pat me on the shoulder and go “good job, kiddo”. We never did much together but it was always enjoyable, because he was the only one in the family I could identify with. He never mentioned wanting to go on a camping trip of any sorts, so I'm not even sure he would have come. Hell, I don't even know if he was able to swim. But I can't help but think that if things had been different I somehow would have been able to convince him to come, and I would have bonded with him even more. It's useless to dream, I should just be thankful for what I have.