The Great Solar Eclipse of 2017 crossed the continent, from Oregon to South Carolina, and gave millions of people the chance to witness one of the most awe-inspiring events in the natural world.

But you had to be within the "path of totality", a narrow band across the earth's surface several thousand miles long but only about 70 miles wide. Outside that band you would only see a partial eclipse, not a total eclipse.

And there is no such thing as a "partial total eclipse", despite the impression blogs and the news media might give. I honestly think that's why so many people misunderstand the utter beauty of the spectacle; they may have seen a partial eclipse in the past that was total somewhere else, and even though they weren't in the path the news kept gushing about it being a total eclipse, so they assume they must have seen a total eclipse and just didn't find it all that impressive.


Posted by Dan 08/29/2017, revised 09/06/2017

I was pretty fired up for the Half Moon Bay International Triathlon. International distance is what I do best, and I knew it would feel delightfully short after last weekend's 70.3

It was cold and foggy in the morning and transition was first come, first served, with a pretty good size crowd (800+). I still have bad memories from a race back in Illinois, where I was sassed by a group of snotty, entitled teenagers when I asked them to make space on the rack for my bike, so I greatly prefer pre-assigned transition spots. And people my own age. Luckily, this time around my rack-mates were courteous and accommodating, and there was room for all of us.

On this grey day, the ocean swim did not look particularly inviting, and the water temperature, at "56-59 degrees," was definitely freeze-your-face-off cold. I tried to get a warm-up swim in before the race start, but the combination of salt water buoyancy and my instinctive recoil from anything so obnoxiously cold meant that I just skimmed along the top of the water like a cat, without actually getting wet.

The swim started some distance out from shore, and since we couldn't hear the announcer from way out there, many of us were still in deep discussion about the possible location of the buoys when the race started. The swim took place in a harbor, and as such, it was filled with boats. The aerial diagram of the swim course had seemed pretty straightforward, but down at sea level, the boats blocked the view of the buoys, so navigation was tough. Unsettling though that was, my swim time was OK, so I must not have gotten too far off course.

The run to transition was REALLY long, but my T1 was 3:15, fastest of the women, despite the epic battle between my wetsuit and my frozen hands and feet.

It was chilly as I started out on the bike, so I immediately set to work on gaining speed and heat at the same time.

I didn't get a good look at the rock that attacked me, but I was not even two miles into the bike when I heard the crack of carbon rim colliding with something it shouldn't, and the accompanying fizz of a rapidly deflating tire. Although disappointed, I remained calm as I pulled over to confront my situation. My tire changing skills are at least on a par with my transition skills, and until today I had not had the pleasure of testing them out in a race environment. I know I can change a tire in under 3 minutes, and I had all the tools I needed.

... but there was just one crucial element missing:

My hands.

Numb and lifeless, my Mickey Mouse paws refused to cooperate. I fought with the tire as ten, twenty, thirty cyclists blew past. A police officer on a motorcycle pulled over to observe my struggle. I finally succeeded in wrangling the new tube into place and shot it with a blast of C02. But as I pulled the cartridge away, I could still hear a hiss of air.

My new tube was leaking.


Posted by Kimberly 04/22/2015

It was immediately apparent that the $25 30 day visa in Indonesia was not long enough so we made an executive decision to stay for 31 days for a mere $20 extra. While in Sumatra we took a night boat to the remote Mentawai Islands south of Padang. There we stayed with a local Mentawai family and enjoyed jungle trekking and experienced traditional Mentawai medicine man rituals. It became apparent why all the medicine men are all so thin and wiry; the rituals go through the night and involve singing, chanting and dancing until you collapse from exhaustion. Then you repeat.

Mentawai medicine man dancing away evil spirits

Posted by nik 02/06/2009, revised 02/24/2009

Awww, why did I have to find my favorite place yet at the very end of my time in Colombia??

Salento is an incredible little pueblo in the breathtaking coffee region of Colombia. The climate is a mix of good solid downpours and rich, beautiful breaks in the clouds for the sun. Even when it rains, it can't be called "cold." Only "fresh." The hills and valleys all around are green green green, with wisps of white clouds drifting in about them, holding close to the earth.

The town itself is packed with color and artisan life. The main street is a gorgeous little narrow road lined on either side with tiny shops selling all sorts of great works of art - jewelery, woodwork, paintings (incredible paintings!), clothing, traditional Colombian sombreros, and lots of great little cafes that serve (of course) delicious coffee. I've found that many little pueblos of Colombia and Ecuador, while they have a nice small-town feel with friendly people, they lack in much character or culture as far as the town itself goes. They're just kind of bland. But this... this is an incredible mix of nature, culture, friendliness, liveliness, and relaxation-without-boredom.


The town of Salento, colorful and lively

Posted by Whitney 07/31/2011, revised 08/15/2011