Open channel flow.

It is funny what things you remember and what things you don't. Last weekend I hiked for a couple hours along an aqueduct, filled to nearly overflowing with water to be changed into electric power down the line. Some of my first thoughts went back to my Fluids or Hydraulics class at the School of Mines: open channel flow. All I could think about were hydraulic jumps, Bernoulli's formula and what kind of pressure the water was putting on the wall on which I was walking. I'm still not sure if that served to make the trip better or worse.

But that is not the point of this afternoon's blog. It is high time I tell you about Dani. I have not yet because I don't know exactly where to start, and I know that no matter how poetic or brilliant I write, it will not do justice to her. But nevertheless, here is my best attempt to introduce you to my girlfriend:

There are all kind of things I could tell you about Dani. She was born on leap day, she spent 8 months in England (and therefore speaks better English than I do), she loves McDonald's (even after I made her watch "Super Size Me"), her favorite color is orange... and mucho mas. But I would prefer that you not just know about her, I want you to know her because she really is something special.

Sometimes stories are a good medium to help us know someone. That's what God does, so I'll give it a try, and return to the beginning of this blog.

This last weekend I went backpacking with Dani and some friends of ours (James and Julie Bellingham... quickly becoming some of my favorite people). The first night we hiked for an hour in the dark. I'd never done anything like that, and it ended up being one of my all-time sweetest experiences. It was a perfectly clear night and there was no moon, so the stars put on a show for us. As we hiked we came to a summit. Down and to our right was a lake. Up and to the left towered Mt. Tikimani... one of the most majestic mountains I've ever seen. We hiked along and came to an overlook of the lake. From way above we saw lights on the lake. My first thought was that there were fireflies, which would have been sweet, but the reality was even better. As we came to discover, the lake was so still that it reflected the stars back to us! It was nothing short of amazing. The scenery made me want to love God more.

Two days later it was snowing. Wet and cold. The wind blew and took our breath away and our soaked shoes were no fun to put on for the three hour hike out.

These two different experiences of this backpacking trip made me reflect on this last year here in Bolivia. I have experienced things that were so great and so awesome that there is no other explanation than that they originated with and are simply a gift from God. I've also walked down roads that were nothing short of miserable. Things that I would never wish on my worse enemy. And so I realize that life has a little of both. Sometimes more of one than another. But it is all circumstantial and no matter how good or evil, the experience passes. So what then, is important? My answer to that is the people you spend those times with.

I spent the last year with Dani. Not all of it, but a lot of it, and the last couple months I've spent even more of life with Dani. The circumstances of life have brought me great experiences and some sour ones as well. But going through it with Dani has made it brighter. She sings praise songs while hiking in the bitter cold rain. When I feel defeated, she finds these small victories in my situation and celebrates them. She teaches me that love is greater than my darkest hour, and she wants to learn from the way God has made me different than she. She is teaching me so much, but one very important thing is that the things I often think are important do not carry the worth of the relationships in my life. And of course my relationship with God she reminds me is the most important. Essential.

So there, I made an attempt to tell you about Dani, and as I read back over what I've written I'm not sure I should publish. I can't really tell you how great Dani is. Fact is, I myself have no idea just how great she is... so how could I put something I'm still discovering into a blog? She is great. A gift from God. A wonderful friend. More than I could have ever asked for, and far beyond what I deserve.

Dani teaches me about grace. And she's beautiful too! Here, take a look for yourself:

Get back on the horse

About a year ago I backpacked this trail called Uma Palka. The weekend before I'd scouted the trail, and in the sunshine it was a great trip. However, that next weekend it rained for three days... even snowed 3-4 inches one night, and that trip has been forever labeled "The Death March." I won't go into many details, but lets just say that it is a good title for that weekend.


This last weekend I did it again. I faced my fear of this trail and took Niko (new intern) and five shoe shiners with me. Now, before I get into this story too much, let me explain that I love this trail. I'm not sure if it is the majestic views, adventurous challenge or a combination of the both, but something draws me to Uma Palka.

It rained again. All three days. So that definitely made me question why I was out on the trail instead of in warm, dry La Paz. Every squishy, soaked step that question entered my mind. But the rain never ends up being our biggest enemy. It is the fog that always reeks havoc on these trips. It drops down and hugs you , and you can no longer navigate by the towering mountains or deep valleys. Instead your visibility decreases to sometimes just a couple of meters, and that is when you get lost.

We got lost three times last weekend. In the first hour, I got completely turned around and if it wasn't for Dario's instincts, we might still be roaming around on top of the initial 16,000 foot summit looking for the saddle to take us over the mountain and into the the warmer (still wet) valley. The other two times I guess I wouldn't say we were lost. We knew where we were on the map, but we thought we were somewhere else, and we weren't quite sure how we'd ended up where we did.

I learned a lot this weekend. The tail, even when it is sunny, is challenging because of all the ups and downs. I wish I had some sort of statistic to give you about how many meters we ascended and descended, but lets just say that it was a monstrous amount. Bordering on ludicrous. So when it is raining and foggy, and you are not certain if the steps you are taking are going to get you where you want to go, that becomes a lesson.

I don't mind hiking. In fact I rather enjoy it. Even with 25 kilos on my back. But as soon as I recognize that each step I take might not be taking me where I'm going, I absolutely hate it. It reminds me of what C.S. Lewis once said:

"We all want progress. But progress means getting nearer to the place where you want to be. And if you have taken a wrong turning, then to go forward does not get you any nearer. If you are on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; and in that case the man who turn back soonest is the most progressive man."

At one point during our adventure we came to a lake. It was a good sign, because we knew it was a man-made reservoir, and so if we could make it to the dam on the opposite side, then there was sure to be a trail or road back to civilization (as assumption that proved to be true... in fact using this logic we stumbled upon what is now one of my favorite trails in the world!). However, from the far side of the lake we had to figure out which way to go around. From our viewpoint we could not see the whole lake. We were also concerned about cliffs that ran right into the water: dead ends where we could not continue our progress. We evaluated the situations and came to a group consensus to head to the left. We should have gone right.

So on our journey to the left we came to a couple tough spots. Places that required teamwork to pass and were not always the safest option (we'll just say it that way... I know my Mom is reading). It was a risk. I wasn't sure how it would end up. I began to think in terms of survival. But I loved it. It was an adventure, and without these elements, it wouldn't have been the memory or classroom that it was.

The guys loved it. They commented that it was like no other trek they'd been on. We had to come together as a team to problem solve. Our decisions did not have certain outcomes. We had to dare and risk. And from inside all of us, something grew and maybe in some cases was set free.

Thursday I start a book study with the guys. We are going to look into what it means to be a Christian man. Not a nice guy, but a risk-taking warrior that sacrifices to rescue what God has deemed beautiful. I think this trip was a great introduction.