Brian's Babe Ruth Moment

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEJ6bGclyJw

I Wish it Weren't So

Tragedy sometimes occurs unexpectedly when adventuring, just as in life in general.

            I wish it weren’t so.

            In 2010 I was invited to participate in a specialty bird tour of Peru.  The tour was organized by one of the top listers (a person who has seen a very large list of species in the world). Although I had been to Peru 3 times previously, the proposed trip was completely about areas I had never birded.  I accepted with eagerness.  The trip was organized with the top bird tour operator in Peru-Manu Expeditions and its legendary owner/birding guide Barry Walker.

            I had been on other trips with a number of the 9 folks signed up for the tour, and some who were new, but all were serious listers. I was excited.  The tour began with 18 days on the central highway leading to the central Andes. Then a full day’s pelagic trip out the port of Callao into  the Humboldt current 50 miles off the coast of Peru, followed by 8 days in Amazonian Peru starting at the city of Iquitos.  The following makeshift map should give you some idea of Peruvian geography.

Figure 1: Makeshift Map of Peru

            The whole point of this particular arrangement was to go places that most birding tours do not go. First, a few days were spent  up the coast from Lima in the mountains at a place called Huaraz.

Figure 2: Habitat at Huaraz

Then we came back to Lima and  started on the road out of Lima-the Central Highway that immediately goes into the coastal mountains that are the backdrop to lima.  Within 4 hours we were at Marcapomacocha at an altitude of almost 15,000 feet.

Figure 3: Lake Marcapomacocha at 15,000 feet

             After checking out the fantastic specialty birds at that location we continued on.   We were  transported in the Manu Expeditions tour bus.

Figure 4: Manu Expeditions Tour Bus

            We needed nightly accommodation and there were some rather basic hotels along the road that provided our shelter on most nights.

Figure 5: Fundo El Pedregal in Santa Eulalia

            And of course we shared rooms.

Figure 6: Shared Quarters for Birders

            During the day, it was inconvenient to find a town to get our meals, so Manu Expeditions typically provided them in the open air.

Figure 7: Open Air Dining

            On morethan one occasion, we needed to get to the far shore of a lake or pond to see specific species.  We were provided with inflatable rafts for getting there.

Figure 8: Our Boating Excursions

            The mountain roads were a sight to see and traverse.

Figure 9: Typical Mountain Roads

            Some of the locations were not easily accessed by the bus, so we had to walk.

Figure 10: Some Days We Walked

            At one of the locations called Bosque Unchog we had to go in by mule.

Figure 11: Travel into Bosque Unchog

            We were at Bosque Unchog for several days, so we had to camp.

Figure 12: Three Nights at Bosque Unchog

            And I was on that wonderful excursion into the mountains.

Figure 13: The Intrepid Birder

            Yes, the trip was about birds, and there were many at Bosque Unchog.  Here is one beautiful example.

Figure 14: Golden-collared Tanager

The following map shows some of the locations we visited

Figure 15: Mountain Sites Highlighted

            On our way back to Lima, we encountered many caravans of cars waving flags.  We were told that some kind of election was going on and that the voters had to return to the town of their birth to vote.  Ouch.

Figure 16: Voters Returning Home to Vote

            We arrived in Lima in time for a comfortable night at the Manhattan hotel.

Figure 17; Manhattan Hotel-Lima

            The next morning, we were up at the crack of dawn and on our way to the port of Callao.

Figure 18:Port of Callao-Peru

            There we boarded a boat similar to the one shown in Figure 19, but quite a bit  larger.

Figure 19: Two Tier Pelagic Birding Boat

            We needed a good-sized boat because three birding groups had come together for this trip.  There were at least 30 birders I our group plus our tour leaders plus the supporting staff.  There were probably about 50 people onboard.

            Our goal for the day was to get out into the Humboldt current which was about 35 nautical miles offshore.

Figure 20: Humboldt Current

            The current carries with it an abundance of sea life.  That concentration of sea life attracts an abundance of pelagic birds.  Many of these birds can’t be seen closer to shore.

We boarded the boat and were off.   There were sights to see along the way and folks got their binoculars out immediately. Not far from the port we came upon a colony of Humboldt Penguin.

Figure 21: Colony of Humboldt Penguins

            After that most folks were up on their feet seeing what they could see.  The sights were many an verified, including cormorants, gulls, terns, boobies, and even some roust sea lions.

Figure 22: Eager birders

            When land was behind us, everyone sat and relaxed as the captain motored us out to sea.  It was a few hours with not much happening. Old friends chatted with each other.  New acquaintances spent time getting to know each other.  The weather was perfect, and the tour operator offered light snacks and soft drinks.  Guys like me made sure their sunblock was liberally applied, as no shade was to be had.

            At last, we were to the Humboldt current.  The deck crew brought out the buckets of chopped up fish and began tossing them in the water (chumming).  It was not long before the birds began to appear.  In they came, gulls, terns, albatrosses, petrels of various varieties, shearwaters, diving-petrels and storm  petrels.  I saw a total of 36 species that day, almost all of them out at sea and all of them only possible along the coast.  Everybody was thrilled, including me. 

Figure 23: Typical Bird Flock Following Boat

            Of the 36 species I observed, two were species I had never seen before (Lifers).  These two birds were the reason I was interested in this day of the trip.  Sought and found-Ringed Storm-Petrel and Markham’s Storm-Petrel.  The next figure is Ringed Storm-Petrel.

Figure 24: Ringed Storm-Petrel

            A grand time was had by all on the Humboldt current.  The birds were plentiful.  People were busy and excited as new species were logged. By the afternoon pretty much everyone had had their fill and were ready to head back for land.

            Sometime in mid-afternoon we headed back to Callao.  Everyone was happy for the rest and the snacks that the crew provided.

            Halfway back to shore disaster struck.  We could hear the calling from below.  “Where is Alfredo? Has anybody seen Alfredo?  These shouts grew in intensity, and we could hear a great scurrying about.  We certainly knew that something was amiss.

            The captain then came down from the helm and talked to us.

            “One of the crew brought on to do chumming seems to be missing.  We have looked everywhere on board and couldn’t find him.  I am afraid he has gone overboard.  Worse than that, he probably wasn’t wearing a life jacket.”

            He went on, “Our course is logged on GPS.  I am going to turn around and retrace our course back out to the current, and then turn around again and retrace our path back to here.  I need every eye to be on the water searching for Alfredo.”

            We all agreed that this sounded like a sensible plan, although I did hear one guy grumbling that, “He was going to be late for dinner”.

            The captain executed his plan at a relatively slow speed.  Alas, Alfredo was never found.

            I wish it weren’t so.

            Our group continued our tour to Iquitos and the Peruvian Amazon, but the loss of Alfredo was in my mind the whole time. 

            The thoughts wouldn’t leave me, “To risk a life just to see some God damn birds.  What am I doing?”          

            So, the 564 species that I saw along with the 68 new birds seemed like so much dross.

            I wish it weren’t so.

Unity

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

The Gospel according to Saint John

In the middle of the night, hunched over a book, I have looked for the WORD to be lurking in the equations of Dirac, Einstein, and Schrodinger. In the middle of the night, I have looked for the WORD in the universal laws of physics. In the middle of the night, I have looked for the WORD. Many have found it there. Many are still looking for the final form of the WORD. I can't seem to find it.

Figure 1: The Equations to Ponder

I am standing in the middle of the prairie that makes up the Comanche National Grassland in Northeast Colorado. The WORD flies up in front of me again and again. Night falls in central Texas on the small space set aside to preserve Greater Prairie—chickens (Atwater National Wildlife Refuge). The WORD is sitting on a dead tree 200 yards away. I am in awe. On the escarpment called la Escalera which leads to the Gran Sabana of Venezuela, the WORD practically knocks me down at every turn.

Figure 2: Comanche National Grassland

Who is that person in childhood. Does he really care that the average lifespan is 70 years? Is his own lifespan of prime concern? Is he really concerned with the great universals? Does the nature of change impress the enormity of life upon him? Does he care that Neotropic warblers are in a state of universal decline, or does he miss their song in spring?

Now I can answer. My life  flits briefly before me--not much. All I have. Let me be one. Let me integrate Let  me experience the here—and—now (never caught in the universal )

Where am I in the equations of Dirac and Einstein? Where am I?

I am standing in central Texas at sunset, seemingly alone. At my feet in the roadside ditch, a King Rail calls and tentatively steps forward. Two hundred yards away a Great Horned Owl swoops in and perches on the end of an exposed branch of a dead willow tree. Silence has not yet descended. Some creatures are settling for the night while others are just stirring.     I know I am alive.  I know I am not alone. I know that my life has meaning—not in its entirety—but right here, right now.

Figure 3: great Horned Owl

I am crying. From where did these tears arise? What has touched my core? The plane is circling a landing spot on a lake in North-central Ontario. Two weeks of canoeing the innumerable lakes of the Canadian wilderness has begun. I am crying. As the pontoons of the plane hit the water I am jubilant. As we unload the canoes, bags of provisions, tents, and fishing gear I am ecstatic. As the plane fades over the horizon, we set up camp amid growing excitement. We are alone in the wilderness. The loons begin to call. As the sun sets across the lake the campfire holds off the night. The moose begin to bellow. We know we are THERE. This is the beginning of time. This is the source. This is where it all begins. We are home.

Figure 4: Pontoon Float Plane with Canoe

But home is 2000 miles away.  My family is not with me. I have a tent, a sleeping bag, some processed food, a few utensils, a map, a compass, a canoe, a paddle , some fishing gear, and miscellaneous equipment. It's us and this stuff.  There are hundreds of lakes and thousands of square miles of boreal forest and the denizens—none human. My intellectual apparatus is nowhere to be found. For two weeks, this is all there will be: We are alone with God. Not once will it help me to be able to solve the Schrodinger equation. Not once will I encounter an oscilloscope or a table of transition coefficients or photoemission cross—sections. Nor will it help me that I can balance a checking account, or navigate the interstate highway system, or place a telephone call.  I know that the WORD is here.

Quietly the COBE satellite moves along its orbit. There is no noise in the vacuum of space. Onboard antennas are steered this way and that, seeking the signals— the cosmic microwave background—signature of the beginning of time. It is there. Evidence accumulates. We can clearly see the beginning of time— when all began—the ultimate singularity in reality.  Scientists  are ecstatic.  Gurus seek the ultimate equations which will describe it all- a program started by Einstein—the Grand Unification. Other researchers seek further evidence; they even speak of the search for the GOD particle. They do this all for me so I can see the beginning of time: so I can comprehend the totality of the universe on its grandest scale; so I can see into the most fundamental details of the stuff of creation. My love of order is impressed with the scope ,universality, and beauty of this human structure—this wealth of explanation.

Figure 5: COBE Satellite

I am alone on the Patagonian steppes.  I can barely see. Intense winds blowing in from the South Atlantic have kicked up a dust storm of vast proportions—-apparently a common event in this part of the world.  Earlier in the day, these same winds had pushed up a storm surge into the bays and harbors of Southern Argentina, wreaking havoc with civilization; taking out power , flooding business districts, bringing commerce to a standstill  Can the equations address this? Can my physicist friends give hope that predictions of such events will minimize the impact on human life. Those in the know seem to say resoundingly "NO",  while others search for the Grand Unification to explain everything.

Today in Southern Patagonia my life is in danger; this dust storm brings great peril to the traveler—to me. Today I really don’t care that on the average there are five dust storms in March in this general part of the world. I want to know the character of the weather later today (this day) , at the precise location where I am going. It clears for a spell.  I see an interesting dry lakebed in the distance—I am eager to explore. I set off in that direction.

On the Southern horizon I see a gathering…an area of intensity. I reconsider. I retreat to shelter. Sleet and dust, driven horizontally by steady intense winds, arrive as I reach the shelter making it impossible to navigate. I am safe.

Figure 6: Patagonian Dust Storm

I struggle to comprehend the regularities that physicists find in the mathematics of group theory. I learn many of these patterns.    I am fascinated.  I discover some patterns of my own— patterns within patterns, forms within forms, structure within  structure. Surely God must be hiding here. How can the deity not be expressed in this great beauty, this elegance, this symmetry, this completeness, this self—contained universe.

Surely the WORD is here. Still , I am unsure.

I feel a tug on the end of the line. He is there. These are Walleye waters. Not so quietly my sonic lure wiggles through the water below sending out the vibratory message "Come to me. I am hurt. I am in trouble". Somewhere in the depths of this lake whose name is only on the map and not in my consciousness, an instinct stirs, a need to survive suppresses itself,  a Walleye is brought to action. He hits my lure. There will be good eating tonight. I am happy. I will be fed. I am cared for .

Figure 7: Walleye is my Supper

I neither sowed nor reaped. At that instant in time we are alone in the universe, this Walleye and I; fulfilling our destinies and expressing our unity- He doesn't know my name, nor I his. It does not matter. We are one. I know he doesn’t know the Schrodinger equation or understand the mysteries of group theory. I do.

  We arise and spend time living. We pass. We are  brothers. He knows the kind of molecules my body can utilize for energy  extraction. He knows the kind of molecules my body can use to rebuild sagging tissues. He knows because he seeks them himself . He knows because his life depends on them as well. He knows because we arise from the same lifestuff .

` He neither sows or reaps.                                                                  He lives. Suddenly he dies.                                                   

My supper…  My brother.