...and we're back.

I have learned that the universe likes to balance itself out, but why must my life be affected by this cosmic equation?
The last week or so has been fan-freakin' tastic. (seriously, i hope that didn't come off as sarcastic)
I am back to school and work, things are going great with both. I managed to get over myself and begin to bring important people back into my life (better to talk to a friend than mourn over a lover). I am beginning to realize what I want to do with my life, as soon as the she-devil that is college gives my life back to me. I even got to shoot the football game from the sidelines last Saturday -- which was awesome, by the way.
But it seems that in all things, my life included, what goes up, must come down.
It brings me great sorrow to tell you all that Sweet Caroline, after more than two years of faithful service, has met with an untimely, lemon-limey, demise. My 12", titanium beauty has drowned in an explosion of thirst-quenching death.
I cannot afford a new computer right now...

Pursuit of Truth

The following was my editorial viewpoint that ran in today's (9/11) newspaper:


It has been five years to the day since the horrific tragedy of 9/11. Five years since thousands of innocent lives were lost in one of the most brutal attacks in American history. This millennium was ushered in by destruction and bloodshed, more than likely setting a pattern for the decades to come.

Many people ask how such an atrocity could have ever happened. How could the most powerful nation in the world be brought to its knees by a handful of men armed with box cutters?

This question is a good one if not asked rhetorically. This query could, if pursued aggressively, provide answers and comfort to a whole country of mourners.

Unfortunately, asking these questions or casting doubt on the government's official report has not only been discouraged, but is often seen as unpatriotic or even treasonous.

In his book, "Democracy in America," French thinker and politician Alexis de Tocqueville said, "In America the majority raises formidable barriers around the liberty of opinion; within these barriers an author may write what he pleases, but woe to him if he goes beyond them."

The truth of this profound statement was evidenced last week when BYU physics professor Steven Jones was placed on paid leave because the administration was "concerned about the increasingly speculative and accusatory nature" of Professor Jones' claims. Jones first began sharing his theories last fall when he released his paper "Why Indeed Did the World Trade Center Buildings Collapse?"

I do not buy into every idea Jones presents, but, regardless of whether his claims are right or wrong, he has been punished for expressing his opinion - an opinion that was reached based on scientific research in his field of expertise.

I was pleased to see that I was not alone in applauding a little conflict and freedom of expression. In his September 8 letter to the editor, Eric Rasmussen expressed his gratitude to hear a dissenting voice at BYU. Even though Rasmussen immediately dismissed Jones as a "quack" without defining or backing up that accusation, and even though the university is most definitely not "staying the heck out of [Jones'] way" anymore, I am glad that alternative voices can at least be heard, if not heeded.

I have discussed and debated the events of 9/11 with dozens of people, many of who hold strong opinions contrary to my own. This opposition does not bother me, I agree wholeheartedly with Voltaire in that "I may not agree with what you have to say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."

What I most definitely do not agree with are people who have the nerve to tell me that my opinion is wrong when they have not done any research on the matter. I have yet to meet more than a handful of people who have actually read the 9/11 Commission Report, much less the publications standing in opposition to that report.

I came to this university to gain knowledge and understanding. I am forever indebted to many wonderful professors who have shown me the importance of discovering truth for myself; I hope that I never let them down.

I encourage everyone to shake off his or her complacency and seek the truth. Examine both sides of this and every story to reach your own educated and informed conclusions. Questioning the government is not unpatriotic. The reality is that by blindly following our leaders and accepting what they spoon-feed us to be absolute certainty, we are rejecting the philosophies of freedom and truth upon which this great country was founded.

Apathy will only lead our country farther from the vision that was so eagerly fought for by our Founding Fathers.

Day 6: The difference between buttcrack Bill and a hole in the ground.

After enjoying another leisurely morning, we loaded up the car and drove to the Lehman Caves Visitor’s Center, where we met our injured hiker who had been spending a few days with relatives out in Ely.

We grabbed another fabulous lunch at the café and checked in for our cave tour appointment.

Absolom Lehman, a local miner and rancher, discovered Lehman Caves in 1885. The cave system was set aside as a national monument in 1922. In 1986, the monument was expanded to include 77,000 acres and was redesignated as Great Basin National Park.

A very friendly ranger led us on a 90-minute tour through the massive caverns, the beauty of which easily rivals that of Timpanogos Cave. The stalactites and stalagmites formed huge fangs which seemed to guard the great rooms and small, underground lakes of crystal clear water.

As we were led out of the damp cold of the caves back to the dry heat of the Nevada desert, I felt a twang of sadness, knowing that my time in this amazing place was coming to an end.

But I will be back, and a whole world of discovery will be waiting for me.

Day 5: Mmmm, cheeseburger....

For the first time on this extraordinary journey, I slept late into the morning and had a big, leisurely breakfast. We were planning a day hike up an adjacent canyon, but I chose to head downstream, hoping to find a nice place to explore, read and nap the afternoon away.

I was surprised to find an established campground, complete with picnic tables, not five minutes down the trail. I was even more surprised to find my own car another five minutes beyond that! Unable to resist the temptation, I drove to town seeking real food – I can only take so much of my homemade, dehydrated, refried beans, no matter how tasty they are.

I drove into the tiny town of Baker and immediately met some fascinating people. Two rather hairy and unkempt, but very friendly men who were 6 weeks into cycling across the entire country were a table and conversation with me. They were heading to Burning Man, a music festival in the middle of the Nevada desert, before heading on to their finish line in San Francisco. Their stories were made all the more enjoyable with a fantastic burger at the charming Lectrolux Café, home to the world’s best brownie (seriously, go try it).

I made it back to camp about the same time as the others and confessed all to them. We moved camp down to the campground and spent our last night with a bit more luxury.

Day 4: Welcome, Welcome, Sabbath Morning!

We broke camp at sunrise and hit the trail in good spirits, knowing that the hardest day of our trip was behind us. After another hour of route-finding through the forest, we were happy to finally find another trail.

We arrived at Wheeler Peak Campground at 10 a.m., where we refilled our water and made use of the fantastic facilities – okay, it was only an outhouse, but it had been four days!

Relaxed and refreshed, we set out for the day’s destination, the intimidating Wheeler Peak. A few hours later, we dropped our heavy packs on the ridgeline and began the final mile – and 2,000 vertical feet! – to the summit. That is, for all you non-hikers, ridiculously steep. In comparison, the trail up Mount Timpanogos is less than 500 vertical feet/mile, making Wheeler Peak four times as steep!

We enjoyed a quick lunch while enjoying the endless view from the summit, which, at 13,063 feet, was the highest my two feet had ever taken me.

The descent was easier (duh!), and we collected our packs before once more leaving established trails behind. We topped Bald Mountain late in the afternoon and, after hitting the geocache at the summit, dropped over 3,000 feet into the valley below.

As we stumbled clumsily through one of the most beautiful forests I have ever seen, we were taunted by the scat and tracks of deer, elk, bear and even mountain lion, while the animals that left them eluded us completely.

We made camp near the stream at sunset after 11 miles and as many hours over this incredible landscape.

Day 3: ...and I thought yesterday was rough.

Ugh. Yes, ugh. today was hard, really hard, but at the same time, it was a feast for my taste for adventure.

One member of our party headed back down to civilization because of an injured ankle. Good choice, with that injury, she may not have made it through the day of bushwhacking and boulder hopping.

We left our injured comrade and the trail after an easy two miles and headed cross-country to the north side of the park. The next 4 miles took nearly nine hours of struggling through thick undergrowth and traversing treacherous boulder fields just waiting to prey on the unsuspecting ankle.

By sunset, I was too tired to appreciate the solitary beauty. We found a rocky knoll, pitched our tents and went to bed, too tired to even boil water for dinner.