Allergy Attack!

            I’m sick. My nose is runny, my sinuses are congested, my throat hurts from coughing and sneezing, my eyes water every now and again for no apparent reason, and I’ve got a slight headache. Over the last three years I’ve noticed that these same symptoms pop up right around spring time. Could just be a common cold, but it could also be that I’m suffering from some nasty seasonal allergies.

            When someone first suggested to me a few years ago that I might be prone to reacting to the pollen in the air, I merely scoffed and blew my nose again. I had never had allergies before, and it seemed impossible for a person to acquire allergies if he or she had never had them before. Even now, I really don’t know whether I’ve got allergies or a cold, but the fact is that a person can indeed get allergies as he or she ages. It’s just the body’s way of reminding us of how we’re not as invincible as we’d like to think we are.

            Right now my symptoms don’t warrant a visit to an allergist. At least I don’t think so (I’m sure an allergist would highly recommend it). I can handle a little stuffiness and a small headache. The irritation in my throat and my red, raw nose are annoying, but I’d rather buy a $2 box of Kleenex and a $4 bottle of Chloraseptic than spend a $25 co-pay at the allergy clinic. Perhaps if the symptoms become worse in the coming years, I’ll break down and seek professional medical help. Until then, though, my voice and nose will just have to sound like a 7^th grade brass band once a year.

            The worst thing about seasonal allergies it that the air outside has become a major irritant. It’s a little ironic, considering most people associate “outside” with “fresh air.” I’d probably feel a lot better if I shut myself indoors with an air filter and some stinging nettle tea (despite its terrible origins, it’s quite effective against allergic reactions), but I love to hike and enjoy the mountains on a cool, spring morning. One compromise I’ve found is wearing a nose and mouth mask. At the risk of looking like a paranoid hypochondriac, I can considerably cut down the amount of pollen and other irritants that enter my lungs. Another option that doesn’t include a mask is to hike around in the barren desert, but that sounds like no fun.

            If you’re prone to seasonal allergies, there’s virtually nothing you can do this time of year to completely prevent the onslaught of pollen. Male trees will not stop trying to reproduce just because you keep sneezing. There are a few things you can try in order to reduce the effects of the nastiness in the air, such as increasing the vitamin C and essential fatty acids in your diet, washing your bedding often, and avoiding yard work. I know, Iknow. You were really looking forward to ripping up all the weeds in your garden, raking all the leftover leaves and sticks from last fall, and mowing the lawn. Guess your 13-year-old son or daughter will have to take one for the team and do it all for you. The best thing you can do for yourself is allow your body to rest and prevent the invasive pollen granules from entering your dojo. Good luck with your allergies this year and here’s to hoping you don’t sneeze your brain out!

Bus Touring

            What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you see a great big charter bus cruising down the freeway? I don’t know about you, but I always assume it’s full of Germans or Japanese. It’s very rare to see a bus full of Americans, because we prefer to travel in our own vehicles. Have you ever toured on a bus, though? It definitely has its advantages and disadvantages; for example, you don’t have to deal with the stresses of driving, but you can’t stop at every single historical marker. It’s a great way to travel if you’re not in a hurry and you can sleep curled up in a ball on your assigned cushion.

This past weekend I was on one of two charter buses full of middle school students and a handful of adults. We were headed down to a music festival in California. The buses departed around midnight, and we were supposed to arrive at our destination twelve hours later. Because the bus drivers needed breaks every so often, after about three hours of driving we would pull into a gas station and everyone on the bus would unload. I always felt bad for the attendant on duty, but all of them that I spoke to said they were used to large groups of people flooding their stores in the middle of the night. Each time we returned to the bus, we would have to count off to ensure that everybody made it back. And then we were off into the dark desert night again. Imagine trying to sleep after a bunch of excited teenagers have returned from a convenience store with Red Bulls and sour gummy candies at 3:00 am.

We finally arrived in California, but our rooms at the hotel weren’t quite ready for us to check into, so we bounced over to Disneyland for a day of sluggish fun, since none of us had really gotten any sleep. The best thing about arriving in a bus at Disneyland was that we didn’t have to remember where we parked the car; the buses dropped us off and picked us up right next to the trams. Plus, it’s only $25 per bus as opposed to $15 per car. One car typically has four to six people in it, but the bus I was on had about thirty. Talk about getting the most for your money! Anyway, it really was nice to have a couple of buses shuttle us between the park and our hotel, even though the hotel was only about 20 minutes away by foot.

I’m not really sure if the bus company we had chartered for our trip specialized in long road trips to California. At one time, we exited the freeway in California, drove through the small town of Barstow, got back on the freeway, and continued on our journey, without stopping anywhere. The drivers were apparently confused about a meeting point where they were switching out drivers.

Another time we were leaving a gas station that we had stopped at for a break in Fillmore on our way home. Instead of heading towards the freeway on-ramp, the drivers took a frontage road. Now, the freeway exits in Southern and Central Utah are extremely far apart, and I couldn’t figure out why they were taking a frontage road to get to the next exit when there was an on-ramp right by the gas station. And then I realized that the sun was setting to my right, which meant that we were heading south, which was not the direction of Salt Lake City and home. After driving ten miles out of our way, because the drivers couldn’t just turn around on the narrow road we were on, we finally got back on the freeway. Ten minutes later we passed the same gas station that we had already stopped at. It was a bit disconcerting, but at least we made it home.

Even though you are at the mercy of your driver while on a bus tour, it is nice to cut out some common travel woes, such as not being able to stand up and stretch from time to time. Also, traveling with a bunch of school kids was fun, even if it was noisy all the time. There was always someone to talk to or play a game with to make the time pass much more quickly. And when you’re traveling twelve hours in one go, that’s a wonderful thing.

Community of Photographers

            There you are, alone or with family or some friends, and you’re holding your camera out as far as you can, attempting to capture a picture that includes your face/faces and a fantastic background. Luckily you have some type of photo-shopping program that allows you to straighten the horizon. With each successive picture you snap, you look at the preview, unsatisfied with the angle or proportions (too much face, too little Grand Canyon), or the arm holding the camera takes up half of the frame. So you try again. And again. Finally, you give up and accept the pictures you’ve already taken for what they are: Amateur photos taken blindly. And it shows.

            But then, out of nowhere, a man in a bicycle helmet, tight Spandex pants, and face-clenching sunglasses approaches you and says, “Hey, I’ll take your picture if you take ours,” pointing to a group of ten other cyclists enjoying the scenery. Of course you agree, because you’re frustrated with the results you’ve been getting, plus it’s a really nice thing for someone to offer. You hand the cyclist your camera and he snaps a couple of shots. As he hands the camera back to you, he suggests, “Check the pics out and make sure you like ‘em.” You respond, “Oh, I’m sure they’re great! Thank you! Now let’s take your group’s picture.”

            If you’re anything like me, you take pride in being an amateur photographer. You take all the knowledge you’ve amassed in your life and apply it to the photo you are taking for complete strangers: the group is centered (or slightly off to the side if you are trying to take in some cool landscape in the background), the background is clearly visible, everyone is lit by the sunlight, feet or tops of heads are not cut off by the frame, etc. You snap two or three pictures and hand the cyclist’s camera back to him as he begins to view them and comment, “Wow, these are awesome! Looks like we’ve got a professional photographer in our midst!”

            And that’s when you realize the photos the cyclist took were probably about as good as the pictures you had been taking. After thanking each other, you walk away and begin reviewing the pictures he took, and sure enough, you may as well have taken them yourself. But before you get angry or frustrated, you realize that something more than amateur photography just took place. Basic kindness and friendliness was more than likely the well-meaning cyclist/photographer’s motive, and nothing else. Instead of feelings of disappointment, you feel a little happier and more prone to committing random acts of kindness yourself. On top of it all, you provided a bunch of cyclists with some killer, albeit amateur, photos for their memories.

            Whether you’re enjoying a beautiful vista overlooking a surreal landscape or checking out some cliff dwellings, you’re bound to find plenty of people who are willing to take your picture or could use a hand for a photo of their own. And if you’re lucky like me, you get a bonus photo of the person who was taking your photographs, without them knowing he or she took the picture! Join the community of photographers and commit random acts of photographic kindness wherever you go!

Upheaval Dome

            The movie Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi features a creature called the “sarlacc,” which resides in the middle of a desert on some far off planet. The sarlacc is a worm-like beast that buries itself in the desert sand, exposing only its horrifying, gaping mouth. The mouth sits at the bottom of a steep pit, which comes in handy in the event that some unknowing person or animal stumbles over the pit’s edge, rolling into the needle-like teeth at the bottom, which seem to know when food is near and begin gnashing away. Lucky for us earthlings, we don’t have to worry about the sarlacc, because it is supposedly light years away…or is it?

I think I may have stumbled upon a sarlacc lair in the Canyonlands over the weekend. The National Park Service likes to call it “Upheaval Dome,” but I’m guessing that’s to keep the Canyonlands’ visitors uninterested and calm around such a dreadful terror. The National Parks have got to make money, and if an average of ten visitors per day were disappearing over the side of an attraction called “Sarlacc Pit,” I would assume the money brought in by fees would drop considerably. Despite the fact that I did not witness an actual creature living in the middle of the crater, I really didn’t care to test my theory by climbing down and approaching an area that could have quickly transformed into a churning mouth of death and consumed me. Would you have?

To their credit, geologists have helped out the National Parks Service by coming up with three of their own mundane theories about how the Dome came to exist, which are openly displayed on placards at the top of a vista overlooking the natural wonder. The most plausible theory explained that a saltwater lake (probably part of Lake Bonneville) dried up leaving behind a thick layer of salt across the landscape. Over the years, other sediments covered up the salt, but the salt was apparently much lighter and viscous than the rock above it, so over time it slowly worked its way up through the weakest layers of sediments, creating a sort of salt bubble. When the bubble reached the surface of the land, it “popped” and crumbled in on itself, leaving a dome-like structure within a large crater. Boring, I say.

Another theory, the least plausible one (in my book), involves something geologists use, I think, much too often to explain geological phenomena: volcanoes. As far as I’m concerned, they may as well come out and say, “Aliens.” I have never physically seen a volcano in my life, and yet these “learned” geologists are constantly blaming them for things like creating mountain ranges or islands. Seems too easy to me. Reminds me of the Greeks and Romans always explaining away science with godly antics. I’m actually surprised the geologists don’t use the name Pele all the time when they try to justify their claims. Anyway, feel free to believe that a volcano created a dome within a crater in the middle of a canyon-riddled landscape, should you be so inclined.

The third, and most interesting, theory poses the idea that a meteorite came down at a relatively straight trajectory and blasted its way down quite a ways before stopping, creating a deep hole, which, much like the salt bubble, crumbled and created the dome inside the crater. Perfect place for a sarlacc to make its home, I say. Moreover, I would like to suggest that it probably was a sarlacc falling from space, and not a meteorite at all.

We may never discover what created the Upheaval Dome in the Canyonlands, but at least there are some reasonable explanations. I would love to lobby to have the sarlacc theory included somewhere on the placards overlooking the crater, preferably along with the meteorite theory, but I don’t want to cause unnecessary alarm and panic among the visitors to the National Park. I suppose for now I’ll keep it to myself, but once people start becoming really inquisitive and disappearing into the crater while scouting it out, I’ll come forward with my claim and people will stop looking at me like I’m crazy. Until then, though, I’ll allow everyone to enjoy and believe the other theories posed by the delusional geologists.