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Attaining Dante’s View

The valley of death. El valle de la muerte. Das Tal des Todes. Sounding ominous in any language, Death Valley has nonetheless beckoned for many years, despite conjuring images of desiccated steer skulls and shimmering heat waves that would make a Phoenix (or possibly even a Dubai) summer seem comfortable by comparison. Perhaps the psychological need to master a challenge played a role in this desire, but there was also quite simply the curiosity of wanting to see a place famous for having both the highest recorded temperature in the United States as well as the lowest point in the western hemisphere; extremes that are not coincidentally linked.

Taking just half a vacation day, my friend Derek and I left Phoenix early Friday afternoon on March 26th.
(All images are clickable for larger versions)
Derek is closer than he appears
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Southern California wildfires

A view from space (courtesy NASA)
NASA wildfire image
For the image (and others) in hi-def see here

Bike Riding and Ethics

The other day while riding downhill on my bicycle, averaging speeds above 35mph, I happened to notice that a squirrel had been struck, perhaps a few moments before I passed it, by another cyclist or a car. The squirrel was not dead, it was struggling and writhing, its head almost entirely severed and it lay there dying. It probably died long before I reached the bottom of the mountain. Note that I captured all this in a fleeting moment - there was a brief instinct to brake and help put it out of its misery but I continued downhill, my thoughts moving quickly - from the shame of not helping the miserable creature by putting an end to its suffering, to the ethics behind my inaction.

I asked myself the question what my “kartavya” (duty) was to that squirrel. What was my role in the death of that squirrel? Am I as responsible for its death as the person who directly laid the hit. What if instead of a squirrel it were a person? Is letting a person die as dastardly an act as laying a hit on that person that caused them to die? I know the utilitarian answer to that question but that is not at all comforting.

I know that if it were a person, I would have done everything in my power to help that person, but that got me to the question - what if the only reasonable help that I could offer that person was, like the squirrel, a quick death. Would I act illegally? Obviously what was supposed to be an exhilarating downhill ride was quickly filled with angst. At least the physical pain of the uphill ride was masked easily with memories of funny expressions. There was zero thrill to be had in this downhill return. I confess that I was at a complete loss, I even blew past a STOP sign, with a middle-aged man yelling sarcastically from his car “Nice Stop”.
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POTD: Mt. Whitney

For those lazy blogging days (weeks), I am going to start a series called Photo of the Day (POTD) to showcase a photograph from my now extensive digital collection. While I don’t expect rantlust to become a photoblog, this will enable me to at least see my own photographs once in a while. These photos will be randomly chosen from my collection and will be those taken after 2001 when I first acquired a digital camera (Minolta Dimage 7).

Mt. Whitney (14,497 ft.), California — the tallest mountain in the contiguous US

Spinach, not just for Popeye

Turns out you can use spinach to derive the energy to run your house as well
See here
All they need to do is grow olives and press some olive oyl from it.

Survival rules of threes

In the past couple of weeks, two stories of being lost in the wilderness have captured headlines in the bay area. The first story was of a couple who went out for a late afternoon stroll at Castle Rock State Park in the Santa Cruz mountains, and ended up missing for 5 days, before being rescued. The official version of the story is that they went exploring down a waterfall, and lost their way. They ended up living in the hollow of a tree for the next few days till they were found by searchers. Castle Rock State Park used to be one of my favorite short hikes, for its views and fantastically shaped rock formations, and I know the area well. I find the official story scarcely credible, since the park itself is so small that if you keep walking in almost any direction, you will come out onto some road in a few hours, or at most a day. But then, this was the same park where a couple of years ago, they found a man who’d been living in the wild, holed out in a tent with a shotgun, farming marijuana, so I guess the park does have its secrets. The other little detail is that right next door is the Los Altos Gun Club, from where you can frequently hear the sound of gunshots being fired, a real annoyance when you’re out hiking. If you’re lost in the area, all you have to do is follow the sound. Maybe the club was closed during their adventure.

The other story was the tragic death of James Kim in the Oregon backwoods, after he and his family lost their way and were stranded near Grant’s Pass. Given that most of us hike and climb frequently, this is a situation which hits close to home. I’ve been lost in the mountains many times, and in bad weather, it’s quite easy to make a wrong turn. The choice that James Kim faced was a horrible one - follow conventional wisdom, stay with his family near the car, and possibly watch them die, or take the risk of hiking it out of there against even longer odds?

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The Elusive Flower

The slopes of Munnar are blessed with an endemic species of a purplish flower called Neelakurinji that blooms once every 12 years. That’s right, twelve! Plants that bloom at long intervals like these are called plietesials.

Last weekend, we got the chance to go see these in person. Munnar is a beautiful town located at 5500 ft above sea level in the Western Ghats. It’s long been known as a place of tea estates and beautiful mountains. For Keralites, it’s often a place to go to escape the heat. This month is special as people are coming from all parts of India to see this elusive flower.
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Shouting from the roof of Africa

Mt. Kilimanjaro… the very name is redolent of romance. Rising in splendid solitude from the vast dusty plains of East Africa, Kilimanjaro has since ancient times been a magnet for explorers and adventurers, and an inspiration for writers, artists and marketing departments. So naturally, when I recently heard of an old schoolmate of mine who’d settled in Tanzania, my thoughts turned immediately to Kilimanjaro. I hadn’t seen him in a long 18 years, but my school crowd has always been rather tight-knit, and it was no surprise to me when, in response to my letter, I received a warm welcome to visit him in Zanzibar and seek my summit attempt on Kili. Accordingly, I started my preparations - reacquainting myself with the works of Hemingway, climbing mountains, and so on.

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