We hit the pavement nice and early today with Ah-Yi and Jo-Ma. There was only one day left and they were determined for us to see as much of Taipei as possible.


We started at the Dr. Sun Yat-sen Memorial House and Gardens. The house was off-limits but there were ample gardens. The gardens were lovely; Though, the need to shape the flower collections into cartoons was a bit strange. The children seemed to enjoy them. I’m the first to admit that I am somewhat ignorant of the details of Taiwanese history. Since Dr. Sun Yat-sen has his own memorial house (and quite a large house it was), he must have made a significant contribution. I wonder how is bedside manner was?





We then headed off to the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall. Now, his memorial was humongous, which tells me that he trumps Sun Yat-sen by a mile. We only had a short time to explore but I did pick up some “facts”. Now, they say that history is always written by the victor. But, sometimes, it is even unclear how the victor was. According to the displays in the memorial, Chiang Kai-shek saved a nation and then propelled it into prosperity. I’m sure in mainland Chinese history books the story is a little different. I’m sure the portrayal is more along the lines of some pesky guy who pissed off Mao, got run over, and ran off to hide on some island called Formosa. I’ve got to read a little bit more before I’m sure what to believe. But first, I’ve got to decide who’s books to read. Hummm…










What was very neat to see was an enormous painting of Chiang Kai-shek and Sun Yat-sen. It was skillfully executed. According to my family, the painting was done by an artist who was very close to my grandfather and a good friend of my parents. I’ve met him before and some of his paintings decorate the walls of my parents’ home. The man is very soft-spoken and lives a simple life. His work sits so prominently in the national moment; Yet, the work is not attributed to anyone.



Lunch was a treat. No surprise there. We had beef noodle soup in another restaurant. It was very crowded and sat in a dirty alley. But, amongst commonly-dressed individuals (that included us), there were business-people wearing suits and carrying briefcases. That’s what I love about Taiwan. People know good food and they don’t let their life-stations to get in the way of it.

We headed back early in order to spend more time with Grandma. This was a wonderful choice because I witnessed an incredible phenomenon. Grandma has always been so quiet about the past. I know life has been difficult, in ways that I will never understand. I only know that they had so little, but built so much. Most of all, there was a loving and devoted family. Somehow a few photo albums came out and I saw Grandma open up just a little bit. Between three generations…Grandma, Ah-Yi, and my sister…there was sharing. Grandma showed a little pride…something I so rarely witness in her. The pride was in several generations of family. There was also love for Grandpa who we all lost several years back.





Because of the physical distance and language gap, I’ve always felt distance between my family in Taiwan and myself. I certainly feel a closer connection now. I used to know and love them through knowing and loving my parents. I now have a more direct appreciation for my family as well as more shame for staying so far for so long.

We saw a different side of Taipei today. Our uncle (Dah Jo-Jo aka Oldest uncle) took the day off to shuttle us around today. Our aunts (Jo-Ma aka wife of uncle and Ah-Yi aka mother’s sister) were our other guides.

The day started with a stop at a war veterans’ memorial. We arrived just at the changing of the guards which was outstanding. When we got there, it started becoming obvious what a kind gesture our relatives were making. Uncle was not going to be joining us at the sites. Parking at most of these areas is just horrendous and his plan was to stay with the car while we enjoyed the sites.




We then headed off to the National Palace Museum. Most of the museum is closed due to renovations which left only a large instead of a humongous collection on display. Everything looked somewhat familiar. I had taken oriental art history at college where I spent hours and hours studying and memorizing facts, names, and dates. Now, I couldn’t put a sentence together beyond “nice vase”. Guess there’s another Princeton education gone to waste. Oh well…it was a “nice vase”. As soon as I had entered the museum, I was kindly informed that I could not take photos. I felt like I had lost one of my eyes but I guess like I’ve said before (but only a few times), “I’ve got to put down the camera sometime”.

Outside of the museum, I was allowed to turn my camera back on. Which was a good thing since the garden next door was beautiful. It is place where many school children take field trips. Ahh, the field trip. What a wonderful creation. A special day away from our banal existence in the classroom. It was always a great time as long as you remembered your permission slip and souvenir money. These kids at least remembered their money for fish food and the fish appreciated it.





My uncle turned the car away from civilization and we headed for the mountains. Who would have thought that Taiwan could be cold. It certainly was chilly which made us hike that much faster. We made a few stops including this very strange “Milk Lake”. The source of its albino nature is apparently large mineral deposits but we couldn’t get close enough to confirm that. Minerals play an important roll up there which we were going to discover later on.





A quick stroll through Yangming Park was our next step. I was disappointed to learn that this place was not named after a famous basketball player. Yup, there was no Yao Ming there. Stupid me. But, what do I know about American Basketball and Asian culture. There was a very large clock with a face composed of different flowers. My sister reminded me that we had our photo taken here when we were very, very young. And for some strange reason, I remember that.


So, why are minerals so important? Well, the Taiwanese take there relaxing very seriously. Perhaps, it is because they usually work so very hard, when it is time to relax, one has to do it right. An indication of this is the existence of a museum dedicated to the history of hot springs. Apparently, soaking in these warm natural mineral baths is quite popular. With the efficient train system, one can get to these hot springs quite easily. From what I could decipher from the museum, the springs in this particular area were developed by the Japanese. I guess foreign occupation doesn’t have to be ALL bad.


It was entertaining to take a walk down to one of the boiling sulfur pools. I was equally entertained by the sign that stated that cooking eggs in the pool was forbidden.


Just as the hot springs are supposed to be good for the health, apparently so is stretching your calf muscles. There was this man selling these backward shoes right by the baths. They looked like wooden sandals with the high heal on the wrong side. According to the man, the position should improve your posture and energy flow to make the wearer more beautiful. Well, sign me up if it will make me taller.



Tomorrow, the plan is to hang with Jo-Ma (aka wife of our second-oldest uncle). The itinerary is still a mystery but I’m sure it certainly won’t be dull.

Food, food everywhere! My sister and I started the day with a quick walk to the street below where the food vendors with their carts awaited hungry passer-bys. Little did I know that this would be the start of another eating extravaganza. Grandma always managed to get just a little more than we were capable of eating. After a short rest, we were off again.

Our aunt joined us for a train ride out to Tamshui. On the way out, we stopped a the Tamshui River Mangrove Nature Reserve. It was a strange juxtaposition of nature and civilization with beautiful Mangrove swampland sitting beneath tall buildings. There were fiddler crabs and funny land-walking fish abound. It was a lovely place to stroll.

Tamshui is a town right on the coast. It was quite beautiful there with many people, old and young, enjoying the warm day. The town had a Jersey Shore boardwalk feel at places. There were arcades with games of skill (and chance) as well as endless food stands. We managed to stay away from eating more, but not for long.

On the way back, we all stopped at a market. We ducked into a back-alley area where there was quite lively. Amongst fish stands and tiny shops, we found a bah-wan stand. A man stood in front of a huge vat of boiling oil where he was preparing these treats. There was no way that this man’s establishment would have passed inspection in the States, which would be a shame since it was damn yummy! The food didn’t end there. We had more stops along the way for us to prove that there is always a little bit more room for good food.

After returning home, Grandma stayed to take care of some chores and to rest while my sister and I took off to explore more of the City. It was surprising to hear my sister’s name called on the streets of Taipei. It was one of our aunts who then volunteered to take us to another market, which, of course, resulted in more eating.

Jetlag has set in big time and the best my sister and I have been able to do is to stay awake ‘til 8 pm. That’s about when my uncle called to see if we wanted to take a night tour of Taipei. So, we were off and running again. A few landmarks and closed temples later, we arrived at the famous “Snake Alley”. My sister visited this place a while back and she referred to it as the ‘seedy underbelly of Taipei”. But, in the last few years, it has gotten too famous. And, again, my sister dubbed it now “Giullianni’d”. It has lost most of its darkness and is now called the Huahsi Street Tourist Night Market. Prostitution has been replaced by a few sex toy shops and foot massage parlors and the snake blood-drinking establishments have become ice cream shops. They did try to maintain some of the allure with a woman stationed in front of the ice cream shop armed with a large snake. But, it didn’t look like there was snake on the menu. Perhaps the more seedy scene has moved to another alley, yet to be discovered by the hordes of tourists.


We did make it to 11 pm, a much more appropriate time for sleep.

Memories are strange things. Sometimes they are plain as day, vivid, and fully saturated with color. Other times, they are but a hint, a feeling of familiarity. Coming back to Grandma’s house more of the latter. It has been over 27 years since I’ve been here and many things have changed. My grandparents used to live on floors 2 and 3 of this building with the first floor rented out to a store owner. Since Grandpa’s passing, Grandma hasn’t need as much space and has moved to just the third floor. Now, a store-owner has reached majority in his occupation of this building. Much of the third floor is the same except for some newer appliances and tiling. And, there are no more chickens living on the roof.



My memory was helped along by some old photo albums that my uncle pulled out. The photos were yellowed and somewhat faded…not unlike my own memories. They did tell many stories that I was too young at the time to remember…and some that unfolded before I was born. Again, the photos of my parents were familiar with Dad looking more like me, currently, than his wiser appearance now. There were the photos of Dad as he was at the airport, getting ready to leave his entire family to start his medical internship in the U.S. And, the photos of Dad a year later as he was reunited with his wife and children. These were the times that Mom and Dad never mentioned, because they involved much personal sacrifice on their parts. And their own sacrifices are things that they never mentioned.

Lunch was a pleasure. It was a bit of a reunion with a few uncles, aunts, and cousins. The cousins were familiar only because they looked like my uncles.

We went to Taipei 101 which was NOT familiar. It is now the tallest building in the World, I’m sure to be eclipsed by another engineering marvel somewhere else. I don’t think it is particularly attractive, looking like a stack of Chinese take-out boxes but I can’t deny this incredible architectural achievement. Aunt and Uncle took us up to the observation deck where we could get a 360 degree view of Taipei. It was an impressive view but was a little less rewarding considering the ease of taking the elevator for 33 seconds to get to that elevation. It usually takes us all day of climbing in a team of 2 or 3 to get to the same elevation on a rock face. Then again, not everything is climbing. I tend to forget that.


Sometimes, the simple things are the most rewarding. Taipei 101 did provide me with much joy when I noticed Page One, a very large book store chain, in the building. My aunt, uncle and sister helped me to find a Chinese translation of the Little Prince. It is a story that is close to my heart and finding translations has become an important part of my travels.

With much jet lag, it was difficult to stay conscious much later than 8 pm yesterday. So, bedtime came early and lasted long through the night. There was one point in the night that really emphasized a major theme in my parents’ lives and it became so clear that this theme is part of their upbringings. At about 2 am, I had a tickle in my throat and had to cough several times. I tried my best to conceal it because I knew what would happen. I was quite unsuccessful and before I knew it, Grandma had gotten out of bed with one of her blankets in hand. She was afraid that I was getting sick and came out to shelter me from the cold. There was no doubt she was sleeping with her door open to facilitate sensing any needs that my sister or I had. It was quite amazing and clearly illustrated this life goal of my parents and grandparents…“to be constantly attentive while remaining invisible yourself”.

My sister and I left Newark Liberty Airport at almost midnight and after one stop in Seattle, we started the last, very long leg to Taiwan.

It’s been a while since I’ve flown on a non-U.S.-based airline. And, for the most part, the differences on EVA Air have been welcomed. The flight attendants are tri-lingual, giving me a fighting chance at understanding them. It is always interesting to see which language they start with first when they address me. There must be something that tips them off because more times than not, they start with English, even though they’ve addressed others in Mandarin or Taiwanese first. Perhaps my inability to speak my native tongue proficiently is so obvious that I don’t even have to open my mouth.

The other pleasant differences are the meal choices. I had a nice beef and rice for dinner. The rice was sticky and the beef had a hint of curry. For breakfast, the choices were omelet vs. congee. Of course, I had the congee which was quite refreshing.

Even though this fight has been quite long (I’ve peed at least 10 times), I have to say I am in some ways in apprehensive about arriving in Taiwan. It has been almost thirty years since I have been back to Taiwan, despite most of my family still being there. I have trouble even identifying the exact number of aunts and uncles I have. I’m sure I will be able to recognize the uncles. They should all look familiar…like the one uncle I have in the U.S. But, that’s a lame way to relate to family.

Embarrassment is perhaps what I fear the most right now. I’m sure everyone will be polite and reassure me that I’m still part of the family. I’m sure my relatives will expend much energy to feed me and make me feel at home. I’m sure a few will speak to me in English instead of my “native” tongue. And, I’m sure that I will continue to feel bad.

In my heart, I am looking forward to seeing them. I miss Grandma, especially, even though during her visits to the U.S., we tend to just sit and smile at each other. But, those smiles, I believe, communicate the most important things.

Whine, whine, whine. On the plane, wine costs five dollars but there is plenty of whine for free.

I was sandwiched between two people who made the flight back to Newark quite colorful. The woman to the right, I believe, is kind and polite deep down; But, it only takes a little stress to push some people over the edge. She was popping Valium and telling her husband that she couldn’t “take another vacation for a while”. The slightest sound was setting her off (that baby 20 rows back was hardly audible from where we were sitting…but, maybe my ears were clogged with sea water). She shifted around constantly to find a comfortable position which I’m sure was challenging give the incompatible fit of her to the chair. Then, when the customs forms were passed out, I was afraid she would stroke out right there. She was apologetic now and then and I felt quite bad for her suffering.

Now, as for the man to my left, I wish I could have inflicted some suffering on him. He started the trip by flagging down every flight attendant (who were quite patient and polite) to insist that they do something about the air. I’ve sat on tarmacs for long periods of time to recognize the pattern (perhaps a design flaw) that planes don’t get cool until you put them into the air (especially in the Caribbean). But, he still dubbed the plane a “piece of s__t”! Then, as we hit some turbulence (not unexpected given that there was a tropical depression that we were flying by), he insisted on stating at the top of his lungs (“top of his lungs” is his only volume setting, apparently), “Ladies and gentleman, please put on your parachutes and proceed to the nearest exit”. Needless to say, this did not go over well with the high-strung woman to my right. He had to finish off the flight declaring that he was “sick of that f___kn’ Wille Wonka”. There has to be something to be said for a man who wears sunglasses in a dark plane, at night. Should have known.

The previous days, in contrast, were filled with beautiful sights at the dive sites. We were on safari looking for sea horses in the dark of night. Diving at night gives one an incredible sensation…or lack of it. Your sight is limited to that which your flashlight strikes and the rest is made up by your imagination. Navigation skills and one lone beacon was our only way back. We were surprised by reef squid and needlefish as well as box lobsters…but no horses. It was looking like a week of searching was going to yield no seahorses.

On our last day of diving, we hopped on two dive boats. The shore diving is so accessible on Bonaire that it seems silly to pay for a spot on a boat. But, it was a great idea for one reason. The crew knew the island and knew it well. We needed only to ask for something special and the divemaster took us straight to a feeding frogfish (Munk’s Haven).

On the next dive, we hit another site (Pietre’s Pillar) and hiding there was one lone sea horse! Perhaps it was cheating to ask, perhaps not. We worked really hard all week searching in the stormy surge and at night. There was fun in the “hunt”, but sometimes it is better to “ask for directions” when time runs short.



One should not dive too close to flying. It has to do with the compressed gas that has been absorbed by your tissues and the lower than sea level pressure of plane cabins. Bubbles expand in that situation and not where you want them. So, we did no afternoon dives the day before we left the island. That gave us a bit of time to explore some of the island which is quite an amazing place. We followed Hank, a cave guide, deep into his domain…2 of the 200+ caves that he has explored on Bonaire. The limestone caves were filled with gorgeous stalactites as well as casts on coral made from the sediment covering the ancient sea floors. We had a chance to snorkel through some underground lakes and swim through what Hank had dubbed “spookey” passages. Hank kept it conservative and safe, though, considering the high water levels from the week’s constant rain. What made the experience so rewarding was listening to Hank’s enthusiastic and very well-informed explanations.

I’m back in the comfort of my own bed right now. It took a rushed shuttle bus ride to the airport, 2 planes, a monorail (that was doing double duty since the other track was shut down by the wise sages of Newark Airport), a hotel shuttle van, and then Matt’s car…but we made it, luggage and all.

Slowly, it is beginning to feel like my bed again. I almost welcome the emerging familiarity of it. Five days lie between me and the next adventure and there are a stack of bills and administrative duties (not to mention one shift at the hospital). But, hopefully this will be a time to reconnect with some friends and family. I also look forward to processing the fruits of this last effort…hundreds of photos.

And, of course, I have a special thank you for Matt and Sharon for putting together this opportunity to find, yet, a deeper appreciation for submersed world. A little corner is a little less unknown to me now.

Gamma hit pretty hard yesterday. It was obvious that this island rarely sees such conditions. It was like a sponge that was completely saturated…the ground could do only so much. Streets were closed and buildings flooded. It was a good thing that our goal was to spend most of the day underwater anyway.

We dove off the dock in the morning. But going out and heading right, we managed to fin out to the Marchaca, a pretty mediocre wreck in from of Captain Don’s Dive Habitat. The sees were reasonable considering the light and sound display we had in the skies the night before.



Lunch was a true trial though. We had trouble finding a restaurant that was open in town. The first place we found was “full” so we proceeded to the other. You have to worry when the menu asked for patience because they may take a long time making each “fresh” meal optimally. Most of the time when I see this disclaimer, there is nothing special about the food…just bad service. Well, my ceviche and fish sandwich proved me right again. Steve seemed to like his iguana soup and goat, though.

We finally got back into the water in the afternoon. 1000 steps is a famous dive site here on Bonaire. That is not exactly for the diving but rather the staircase leading down to the water. There aren’t more than 70 steps in reality but with a back full of SCUBA gear, people say it feels like 1000. In reality, the climb in and out wasn’t that bad but the diving was spectacular.

Matt made the suggestion to go to Oil Slick for our night dive. The thought of a metal ladder leading down to the surf made me a bit nervous considering the brick of a camera that I carry; But, like the 1000 steps, the ladder was no problem. My little headlamp was left at the entry point as our beacon for return in the dark. I had the fear in my mind that the light would go out or would be lifted by a passer-by. All turned out okay, and we managed to navigate out and back without major difficulty. In between, we experienced a wonderful dive with lots of new sights. Cuttlefish, lobster, and an octipus made the dive unique for us.

The rain did make things more scary, slippery and cold, but it was yet another successful and rewarding day…and night.

The sun is out now…Gamma has given us a break for today.

The entire northern part of the island is a National Park (as well as all of the water surrounding the entire island). I know this from the park fee we had to pay, but that doesn’t bother me at all. We ventured up there for a dive…one dive that involved several hours of driving for the round trip…but that doesn’t bother me at all. The roads were unimproved and the tanks in the bag were jumping around like the beans in a maraca. Okay, that bothered me a little.

We dove off of Boka Slagbaai, one of the few sandy beaches on Bonaire. The volcanic sea cliffs gave way to this beautiful, petite bay where turquoise waters welcomed us. Actually, the waters were inviting to the eye but the waves would constantly do their best to keep people out. What mixed messages. We observed as the waves picked up two divers trying to exit the surf and slam them down into the rocks. It was like a yard sale of diving gear but we managed to reclaim all of it back from the ocean. It was like the ocean was kicking them in the ass while throwing them out.

We managed to get into the ocean and a few minutes later, we reached the tranquility of deeper water. It was a lovely site and well worth the adventure getting there.

On the way back, we stopped at Karpata for another dive. It was outside of the National Park, with many steps down to the water, and of course the walk back up…but that doesn’t bother me at all.

“Bonaire, where’s that?”

That’s the reaction of most non-divers when I mention that I as heading there. When I mention that it is part of the chain of ABC-islands…Aruba, Bonaire, Curacao, I usually get to Aruba when the person says, “Sure”. So why is Bonaire so unknown amongst non-divers and such a dream for divers? Well, it may have to do with the fact that the entire economy of Bonaire is based on SCUBA and salt. There is not even a source of fresh water on the island. They desalinize sea water to make fresh water, resulting in, yet more salt! There are no significant stretches of beach on which to lounge, leaving much less attraction than the sister island of Aruba for non-diving visitors.

Bonaire is part of the Netherlands Antilles group of islands. But, the languages spoken here include not only Dutch, but also Papiamento (a Creole dialect), Spanish, and English. I have trouble with all of these languages, even English.

Shore diving is the poor-man’s form of SCUBA, if you can consider any type of diving to be for the poor man. I’m very close to taking out a second mortgage to pay for these last two diving trips. But, it is good exercise. You throw a bunch of tanks and your gear into the back of a pickup truck, drive around the island to one of dozens of sites, and plunk in. The crux is finding your away around the island. If you manage to stay on the main roads, all things go well. Find your way onto a side “kaya” and you may be doomed. Street signs are in short supply and no turn is a right angle. And remember, at traffic circles, those entering have the right of way.

We landed 2 days ago and we’ve done a good bit of diving so far. Yesterday was spent diving the reef right off of our home for the week, the Dive Buddy Resort. The beauty of Bonaire lies in the detail. The critters are small but live amongst the vibrant colors of the coral-encrusted reef. It stands in stark contrast to my trip to Cocos Island where the allure is co-existing with very large creatures (with shark teeth). And it seems that most of these reefs’ inhabitants work the night shift, including one of the few exceptions to that small rule, very large Tarpin.

Tonight, we are taking our first boat dive over to Klein Bonaire, a small island half a mile away. Again, this is very different from Cocos Island where we lived on a boat for a week. I’m on a search for a sea horse and hopefully someone will leave the gate open at the seahorse corral tonight!

Another major difference between Bonaire and Cocos is that of choice. On the live-aboard, there was one choice, go on a dive or not. Here, the island is open to us. Where, when and how much are constant variables and with five people in our group with varying experience, things can get pretty complicated. We’ve done okay so far. We’ve made it to a few dives and have found dinner each night (including ice cream). I think good nature has prevailed so far but I can see how things can go bad very quickly given different individuals. We are in essence at the beginning of our journey together, an exciting time.

I just had an incredibly vivid dream. There were distinct inconsistencies in the flow of events in the dream, but hey, we forgive Hollywood all the time for these anyway.

The basic premise of the dream was that I didn’t make it back home yesterday. Well, my body and soul both did, technically, but not together. I was left walking amongst friends and family and not being able to be with them. Close friends could hear my words and even see me. I know this plotline sounds like a fusion of several movies and no doubt they have contributed to this dream. But, it was telling to me. I felt the frustration of the things that will never happen. Once again, it is the classic theme of regret.

In the dream, I could only communicate with a handful of people who were very close to me. It was quite telling that friends were represented in the circle. It certainly illustrated to me that I have friends that so much overlap with family.

There was nothing original about these themes and I will not claim to be an original dreamer. But, perhaps that is why these ideas are such clichés. They have importance in our culture and in many of our lives. I woke with such a sense of relief. It seemed so very real; But, I have a second chance.

This was one of the shortest trips of the past 4 months. I feel like I’m returning to basecamp after a summit bid. It’s hard to get out of the mountaineering theme and frame-of-mind after an entire long weekend of mountain films.

My partner on this expedition has been Alejandro who I have known since our time at Princeton. We’ve been living on separate coasts for about a decade now. I’ve always admired him for having the courage to follow his instincts. He has worn many different hats in the past dozen or so years which is very different from my life which has been on this medical track for so long. My only decision each day has been to continue or not continue down this same road. There haven’t been many spurs.

Alejandro has changed fields several times. There was always a smooth transition with no abrupt adjustments; But, he is now pursing a career very different from the direction that his university training would have dictated. He is now on a road that, for many of his colleagues, has been the only thing that they have known. As a consultant for a major firm, most of his colleagues see the next level of advancement as a stepping stone to “ruling the company”. Alejandro, who always excels at what he chooses to pursue, is in this game as long as it is still rewarding. I’m sure he will be the CEO one day…that is, if he elects to do so. Otherwise, 10 years from now, he may be in an entirely different walk of life…and at the top of that field, no doubt.

I have to force myself to remember that even if life is a ride on a train running on a fixed set of tracks, I may get off at a stop for a while, then get back on the same train or transfer to another track all together. Now, I just have to figure out the train schedules and where to buy tickets.

I met the legendary photographer, Sam Abell this morning. He is now retired from National Geographic but still does contribute on the editing side. I went to the writer/photographer submission workshop to get a feel for the field and I learned a few things. One quote from Mr. Abell has stuck in my head. He stated that talent often lies in the ability to make an amazing photograph from an ordinary scene rather than making an ordinary photograph from an amazing scene. Well, I should have lots of practice with that since my day-to-day surrounds are quite ordinary. He also left me with an understanding of the incredibly high standards that exist for a publication such as National Geographic and the fierce competition even amongst the best-of-the-best in the field.

I received much technical information about how the process works. I was inspired by the words of the experts who have been working in the field for decades. And, I had a realization of my “mortality” as an artist and how incredibly small my chances are of making it in the field of adventure photography.

But, hey, I’ve got a feeling that I’ll give it a try. A boy can dream, can’t he?

Alejandro and I had a grand day. I have to admit, we both slept in for a few extra hours. We both desperately needed to make up deficits. There’s no shame in that, right?

We started the day with a beautiful 2 mile hike up to the Tunnel Mountain overlook. There were ample opportunities to enjoy views on both sides of the ridge. Though snow and ice-covered, the trail was quite well maintained. It made for a very leisurely excursion. This region is truly awe-inspiring.

(Just an aside...does that left deer look pissed to you or is it just me?)

With a few hours of sunlight left, it was time to reach a little farther. It is only a short 65 km drive to Lake Louise. I visited this place ten years ago in the summer. At that time, the turquoise water surrounded by tall mountains left me not wanting to leave…ever. I did leave but now I returned. This time, the peaks are all snow-covered as well as the trails. They were quite manageable, even past the lake towards the glacier. We walked until we ran out of light as well as time. Alejandro was on a mission to have caribou steaks and time ‘til the start of the film festival was running short. We found the Terrace Restaurant in Banff which had caribou steaks on their menu in the dining guide. Of course, they have just recently changed their menu leaving on elk as their exotic dish. The search continues…

The film festival started with a presentation by Sir Ranulph Fiennes. This man has made a life of accomplishing “firsts” including an unsupported crossing of Antarctica. I have to admit that I am quite ignorant of the major players in the world of Artic/Antartic expeditions and even mountaineering but I no doubt will be doing some of my own exploring into the field.

The evening has ended quite late and tomorrow starts with a workshop on submitting work to National Geographic. Given that the subject of many submissions to National Geographic involve accounts of feats of super-human strength and character, I’d better at least be able to get out of my comfortable bed in the morning in time for the workshop.

The incredible things happen when someone’s enthusiasm and initiative prevent them from knowing the impossible or improbable.

Alejandro and I rolled into Banff yesterday. The surroundings were awe-inspiring. The last time I was in Banff over ten years ago. I experienced this area on a bus tour of the Canadian Rockies with my parents and fifty of their closest friends. I love my parents but anyone who knows me (and has heard me whining) understands that this is not how I like to travel. Back then, I promised that I would return and the mountains are just as majestic as when I left them.

The Banff Mountain Film Festival officially begins tonight. The Book Festival was just winding down. This is the Book Festival’s twelfth year. Mountaineers and adventure books outnumber my medical texts on my bookshelves but the number of each that I have read in the last decade in the reverse. When I do get a chance, these accounts of individual adventure in unforgiving but beautiful locations and situations is truly a way to escape. There is truth in the term “armchair mountaineer”.

We had the evening free so we caught the two presentations that evening. Two women who have lived life incredibly presented their recent books. Their dynamic but understated accounting of their experiences breathed such life into their texts.

Three Among the Wolves is Helen Thayer’s account of the time she spent with three different packs of wild wolves with her husband and “expedition leader” Charlie. Charlie is half wolf, half dog, and their pack’s alpha. Traveling and living on the Alaska tundra as well as the glaciers is a hostile undertaking. They called upon Charlie to be their protectors against polar bears as well as their bridge between the wolf packs and their own.

Without a doubt, one can sense the admiration for these animals that Thayer possesses. Her reasons to be with them are pure…to understand, learn from, and then to help protect them. She portrays the wolves as noble creatures. Thayer and her husband (with the help of Charlie) have shown that people can be noble creatures as well.



Arlene Blum is an extraordinary individual who grew up in the omni-flat Midwest but discovered her love of the mountains during the 1970’s while pursuing her Chemistry training. Her presentation of her recent book, Breaking Trail, chronicles her life. She is famous for leading the first all-female expedition to Annapurna, statistically the most deadly 8000 meter mountain in the World. She has accomplished a few other things such as earning her doctorate in Chemistry and having three carcinogenic chemicals properly banned from use in the U.S. She also has managed a few other feats such as a crossing of the entire Himalaya mountain range on foot over a ten month period, something that was improbable because of the scale of the physical task as well as the complexity of the political environment.

It seems to me that most of us are programmed to believe something to be impossible before even exploring the possibilities. I see this most often in my own field of Medicine where we err on the side of safety at all times. We so often still possess the attitude that we must “protect” and “nurture” our patients as if they are all children (well, I guess my patients really are children). No doubt, what fuels the conservatism is the prevalence of litigation against us when we make a mistake, or even when we do not. Still, whatever the cause, we too often limit the lives of patients by telling them they cannot do something…the same individuals we are devoted to help. It is so often that some individuals exceed our expectations and “beat the statistics”. And, perhaps, it is our duty to explore the impossible or improbable a little bit more.

In the end, I left the presentations with a goal to reassess those things in my life that I have written off as being too difficult. I left with more enthusiasm to climb in every aspect of life.

Minneapolis is just as big as I remembered it to be. The funny thing is that the last time I was here, my flight coming in was delayed (for very silly reasons) and I needed to cover 2 miles (literally) to get to the connecting gate (trying to get to Rochester, Minnesota for the PM&R oral boards). We didn't make it, triggering a chain reaction of infuriating events. This time, I gave myself 3 hours to connect. The flight left Newark on time and the connecting gait is only 30 yards from where I arrived. I guess it adds "insult to injury" that I left the house at 4 A.M. to make this early flight. Anyway, I'm rather annoyed at that guy, Murphy, for coming up with his/her laws.

But, sometimes things take a turn for the better. I decided to book this flight in first class. Why not? I’ve been accumulating frequent flyer miles for over a decade without redeeming a single one. Sometimes it’s better to take the bills from under the mattress and put them to use. The nice thing is that two paths get you into Northwest Airlines’ lounge…a membership or a first class ticket on an international flight. Canada counts.

As I started my three hour wait, a very pleasant woman stopped to ask me about my little laptop…she was looking for such a one for her travels. Harlene has a passion for exploring the World. Her life had recently met with adversity which she met head-on. In the process, she has redirected her life away from her previous career to a path that takes her to more corners of the World. She now manages the travel for countless fortunate individuals who benefit from her experiences and knowledge of local and remote regions.

We spent the time discussing how “life is not a dress rehearsal”, and how elusive a balanced existence can be. I was fascinated by the number of individuals from completely different walks of life that she refers to on a first name basis. Whether it is the Far East, Middle East, or the not-so-East, she has “family”. It would be an absolutely insane study of the “seven degrees of separation”.

It was a lovely way to spend an hour or so and I am a richer person for it. One finds inspiration in the strangest of places and I am now much fonder of MSP, otherwise known as the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport.