The bus ride from Plovdiv to Istanbul was disconcerting. The bus company overbooked and we almost didn't get seats. A lot of people had to stand in the aisles and the bus ride was lengthy. When we arrived in Istanbul, we decided to explore the infamous bazaars. The Grand Bazaar is a huge indoor marketplace, overloaded with rugs, lamps, pashminas, jewelry, and other trinkets. I bought myself a pashmina and another one for my friend Kathryn. I also bought my mom, sister-in-law, and some other friends hand embroidered coin purses and evil eye bracelets. After that, we went to the Spice Bazaar, a smaller marketplace that sold hundreds of spices, teas, nuts, fruits, pastries, and Turkish Delight. I bought some spices for my parents and a half-kilo each of Turkish Delight for my brothers, dad, and grandparents.
While in Turkey, we also visited the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia. The Hagia Sophia was beautiful and it was interesting to see the Christianity versus Islam wars that occurred there. I think that it would have been more beautiful as a church, mostly because that was how it was originally intended and I thought the iconography of the church was incredible. Spending Christmas Eve in Turkey was strange, not only because it is a predominantly Muslim country so Christmas isn't acknowledged, but because I wasn't with my family. I chose that day to venture out on my own while the others went to a museum. I headed back toward the Grand Bazaar and ran into Jack, an American staying at our hostel that I had met the night before. He was travelling by himself because he had been on the Israel Birthright trip and decided to explore more of the world while he was able. We went to the Bazaar together and I haggled for a handmade, hand painted bowl for my mom. Then we walked around, splitting off near the University. I met up with Emily, Brice, and Andrew again. We decided to go to a Turkish hookah bar and spent the evening walking around.
The following day, we walked around another part of the city. We saw some Roman-style aqueducts. Andrew split off and the rest of us returned to the Spice Bazaar for more Turkish Delight and spices. After he left, Emily Brice, and I walked along the Bosphorus before returning to the hostel. Since it was Christmas day and our last day to spend in Istanbul before our flight the next morning, we all decided to splurge on a traditional Turkish bath. The men and women were separated and luckily our group consisted of two members of each sex. Emily and I decided to fully embrace what we thought was the norm in Turkish baths and went in with just our towels on. To our slight embarrassment, we discovered that most of the women were in their underwear. We started in the sauna, gripping our towels very tightly. However, once we were called out to start our baths, the woman in charge of us ripped our towels off of us and we decided to embrace the situation. The Turkish bath was the perfect end to this trip, I have never felt so clean in my life. We were each fully scrubbed down and exfoliated, our hair washed in warm water. It was also nice to feel so warm and clean after having been in the snow and cold rain for so many days. We returned to the sauna afterwards and ended up spending a few hours there longer than the guys. That night, we had a nice dinner and prepared for the long journey home.
Events occurred: December 23-26, 2011
Our last minute decision to take a train to Plovdiv ended up being a great one. We booked a hostel last minute and headed to this Bulgarian city. It was snowing when we arrived, which I truly enjoyed. We went to a small pharmacy museum right down the street from the hostel, followed by the City Gallery of Fine Arts. Even though it was cold outside, I wanted to walk around and enjoy the snow. I ran out into it and dove on the ground, making my first snow angel. While exploring the city, we stumbled upon an old Greek-style amphitheater. Lightly dusted in snow and empty, the theater looked hauntingly beautiful, a grand monument to ancient times.
Walking through one of the main streets in Plovdiv, we found a large public park. The snow was even thicker and my feet kept sinking into it. I also built my first ever snowman and had my first snowball fight. We created some monster snowballs, bigger than my head even. Our final night in Plovdiv, we made reservations at a nice restaurant and booked overnight bus tickets back to Istanbul. Before dinner, we walked down to the river and watched the water flow over chunks of ice. Dinner was good and very relaxing, the perfect end to the Bulgarian leg of the trip.
Events occurred: December 21-22, 2011
Though I have limited experience with ski towns, Bansko seemed to be especially picturesque. When we arrived, the skies were clear and the runs were visible. We worried that there wouldn't be enough snow since we had heard rumors that there hadn't been any and the slopes were in preseason still. As luck would have it, we woke up to several inches coating the ground and the rooftops. It was gorgeous. I ran around in it a bit before we headed into town to rent our skis. I knew (and still know) absolutely nothing about sizing ski boots. This ended somewhat badly for me. The other unfortunate reality of skiing in mid-December in Bulgaria was that the beginner slopes weren't open, just the medium and hard.
Heading up the lift was an exciting experience for me on its own. I was enthralled, watching my feet dangle several feet above the snow and snow-covered trees. Getting off the lift was another story. I had difficulty keeping steady and unintentionally took off down the slopes a few times. Even though I wasn't any good at skiing, I really liked the feeling once I stabilized: wind rushing in my face, my feet gliding down the snow like I was floating. Unfortunately, those moments never lasted long and typically ended with me falling on my face and tumbling down the mountain. The snow was really soft though, so I didn't mind falling. I met up with my group at the bottom of one of the slopes. I took a break and got some hot chocolate while they continued skiing. I befriended a British family, a couple and their eight year old son, while I was enjoying my drink. They told me that they had a house their and loved coming to Bulgaria to ski. We talked about fluctuations in the exchange rates between euros and the pound and the cost of Bulgarian real estate. You know, normal conversation topics.
After skiing, we explored Bansko itself. There were several charming shops and cafes as well as a lot of restaurants. I also noticed a lot of food stands, including one the sold the most delicious crepes I have ever eaten. Over the course of three days in Bansko, I frequented that particular stand consistently. The nutella and honey crepes were by far the best. We also tried some interesting pizza slices, with toppings like corn. Since we were staying in an apartment instead of a hostel, we bought groceries and cooked our own food for the most part. Still, we went out one night to a local taverna and snacked at the food stands. The best part about having an apartment, other than the privacy, was the sauna they had downstairs. After being in the cold all day, there was nothing better than sitting in there for about 15 minutes and letting all my muscles relax.
The next day, I opted out of skiing. I realized that my boots had been improperly fitted, mostly due to language barriers and the differences between American and European sizes, resulting in matching goose egg bruises on each of my ankles. Everyone else decided to ski, so I ventured out on my own. I spent most of my time relaxing at one of the cafes, enjoying my coffee over the course of several hours just like most Europeans I know. I was relieved for the small amount of relaxation and alone time. When I met back up with everyone, we made the decision to leave Bansko early and head to Plovdiv, Bulgaria's second largest city. It ended up being a fantastic decision.
Events occurred: December 18-21, 2011
Unfortunately for us, the weather in Sofia was not forgiving. It rained the entire time we were there. Surprisingly, we did get to see much of the actual city despite spending only one full day there. We took a local bus to a park and hiked up a mountain. We had difficulty communicating with some of the locals, who didn't speak much English or any of the other languages that any of us were familiar with. Luckily, we took the time to learn the Cyrillic alphabet and by the end of it we had learned a few words, such as thank you. I must say that the food was incredible. We found a restaurant within the park where I tried a really good soup. The restaurant provided English menus, so I had some idea what I was ordering.
After we left the park, we explored the city itself. There were a lot of interesting statues on display and many of the buildings were beautiful. Also, since Christmas was just around the corner, much of Sofia was decorated with lights, a pretty sight to behold as it became dark outside. We went to a small cultural museum nearby and there we learned about traditional Bulgarian dress and learned traditional dances. We also tried some cookies that they made and got to help make them ourselves. I talked to one of the women about knitting and embroidery, both occasional pursuits of mine. I was also intrigued by the dances, which I found to be very similar to traditional Greek dances that I have learned. The next morning we left Sofia and headed for Bansko, a Bulgarian ski town.
Events occurred: December 17-18, 2011
One of the best things about OAR is the amount of cheap, accessible international travel. One day, an email to the list serve popped up on my phone screen with information about a ski trip to Bulgaria, going through Turkey. I had only ever left the country once, a trip to Niagara Falls, Canada when I was 12. Back then, you didn't even need a passport to go to Canada; I just walked across the border with ease. I had also never been skiing before and didn't know the first thing about it. I had only seen snow a few times in my life. Still, I found myself buying a plane ticket and applying for my first passport. I was particularly anxious to go to Istanbul in Turkey. My father is Greek and my family came to America from this city, which they still call Constantinople (as do all Greeks... I catch myself saying it every now and then). I had never been even close to Greece and the thought of connecting with my family, even superficially, was appealing. I wanted to see everything, to appreciate the land my great grandparents had left behind so many years ago. The city did not disappoint. Since our flight was in and out of Istanbul, our time spent in Bulgaria was sandwiched between two trips to Turkey.
When Emily, Andrew, and I first arrived, I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open on the metro from the airport. Our hostel was conveniently located near the Hagia Sophia and several other special monuments and museums. After a full day of flying and no sleep, I hardly remember that first day in Istanbul. We decided to just stay awake and keep going so that our bodies would adjust to the new time zone, which was seven hours ahead of Florida. We walked around near our hostel and then went to an archaeological museum. Honestly, I passed out in a chair and took a nap. I was mostly entranced by the ancient Greek artifacts and the ancient Greek writings on statues and tombs. That night, we took a sunset cruise down the Bosphorus. The illuminated buildings along the shore glittered and provided a beautiful backdrop to the churning water.
The next day, we had plans to meet up with our fourth group member, Brice, who had to take a later flight because of finals. We walked around a bit more before he got there, crossing one of the bridges by foot and walking along a bustling street that contained many consulates and shops. That night, the four of us took a 12 hour overnight bus to Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria. Waking up at 2 AM to cross the border, which was encapsulated in an ominous fog, was intimidating. We all made it through though, officially entering the European Union.
Events occurred: December 14-16, 2011
Though a majority of my travels are precipitated by OAR, I occasionally head out on my own. Most of my adventures are within the Northeast, where a large number of my friends and family reside. So, for Veteran's Day weekend in 2011, I booked a flight to Boston. My best friend from high school, Kathryn, attends Wellesley College, an all girls school in Wellesley, MA, so I stayed with her for the three day weekend. Unfortunately, neither of us realized that her school didn't give off the Friday before Veteran's Day and so she was still in class when my plane landed. Luckily, another friend of mine is a student at MIT, and so he (Chris) met me instead.
Adventuring in Boston is both similar and different than general OAR adventuring. Christopher's brother is a long standing OAR member and there must be a genetic link because our time spent in Boston that Friday transformed into an OAR-style outing. Initially, I just received the overall tour of MIT campus and then we walked over the Mass Ave bridge into Boston proper. Kathryn, my Wellesley friend, met up with us eventually and the three of us embraced our inner tourist and went to Faneuil Hall for some clam "chow-dah." Following the food traditions in Boston, we went to the Mike's Pastry in the North End (which I HIGHLY recommend but keep in mind that they are cash only) for a Boston cream pie. Walking around for several hours, we then went to a Harvard-MIT basketball game.
The real adventure didn't start until after the basketball game, when we decided to go "hacking" with one of Christopher's dorm friends. Hacking is the MIT equivalent of urban exploration and buildering, but it can also include elaborate pranks, such as turning their famous dome into a replica of R2D2. We didn't pull any pranks. However, we did climb to the top of the little dome on Mass Ave, which gave us phenomenal views of Boston, Cambridge, and the Charles River. We also climbed to the roof of the Green Building, one of the tallest one MIT campus, and the roof of one other building. This particular roof was shaped like a 30-60-90 triangle and I crawled out to the edge on my stomach to peer over the side. With my head dangling over the point of the 30 degree angle, I could look around at the view without seeing the building below me. It was exhilarating and somewhat scary until I had my feet firmly on the ground again. We ran around campus until 3 AM, when Kathryn and I headed out to her school.
Saturday was much more relaxing. I spent all my time walking around the town of Wellesley and the campus. The leaves around the lake were changing and the weather was a perfect 50 degrees. The town itself was charming and small. That night, we watched Kathryn's roommates perform in two separate events, one an Indian cultural dance and the other a play entitled "Nine Armenians."
The next day we didn't have as much time, due to my flight home. We left my luggage at MIT and ventured across the Mass Ave bridge. The bridge is covered in markings, measuring the distance in "smoots." (For more info, consult google). I was pleased to discover that I am almost a smoot, just short by a few inches. We walked down the infamous Newbury Street and headed to the parks and gardens at the end. Again, the leaves were changing and it was beautiful, especially as the sun started to go down. Though not quite as adventurous as my times with OAR, it was a good trip all in all.
Events occurred: November 11-13, 2011
Despite initially hating caving, I found myself signed up for another caving trip the following weekend. UF had a three day weekend for Homecoming, so this trip was packed full of activities. The first day we spent caving at Whorley's Cave, the second day we backpacked Roan Mountain, and the third day we went on a day hike to Grayson Highlands. This trip has by far been one of the best OAR trips I have ever been on. There was a perfect number of people (10) and I am still really close to most of them.
Everyone on this trip was athletic and on about the same level, although Jeff has his own special category of "robot," which I learned the first night. The most difficult part of Whorley's Cave was finding it. We drove around searching until about 6:45 AM, when we pulled over into a church parking lot. Half of us camped under the car port and the rest of us (including me) slept in the cars. I woke up to a police officer knocking on my window and I was sure that I was at least going to get a ticket. Apparently our driving and turning around in resident's driveways had alarmed the locals but once I assured the officer that we weren't vagrants but were college students looking for a cave, he wished us luck and left us alone. Enter Robot Jeff. He woke me up around 8:30 and was ready to go. He had located the cave and wanted to get started immediately, running on less than two hours of sleep. I thought he was kidding but I was mistaken.
Whorley's isn't necessarily any better than most caves but I had such a great experience with that particular group that I decided caving deserved a second chance. Unlike Tumbling Rock, Jeff was not very familiar with Whorley's, so we moved around at a more reasonable pace and we all got to explore different passages and squeezes. My favorite part was sliding down the mud, which I was coated in by the time we left.
That afternoon, we drove to Pisgah National Forest, right on the border of Tennessee and North Carolina, to backpack Roan Mountain. As we drove, a cloud descended upon us and everything grew darker and colder. I put on all of my layers, including a blanket that had been in my car that I had sworn I wouldn't take hiking. Despite all the layers I was wearing, I did not warm up during the four/five mile hike to the campsite. It was dark and we were hiking through a cloud. Everything was cold and wet, the ground was muddy and slippery. Though I didn't notice any, apparently it was snowing at the top. When we got to the campsite, the shelter was full. We set up two tents and crammed five people into a three-person tent. Dinner that night was anything we could heat up, no matter what it tasted like. Carolanne and I ate a particularly nasty can of mac-and-cheese just to feel the warmth sliding down our throats. Luckily, I had my sleeping pad on this trip. I had a synthetic sleeping bag, so I took a spot on the end. I was shaking the entire night and my teeth were chattering. At one point, I turned my head to Carolanne and sputtered out "so-o-o-o c-c-c-o-l-d."
The next morning, there was frost on my sleeping bag and everywhere else. Yet, it was beautiful and clear outside: perfect hiking weather. Roan Mountain is one of the most beautiful hikes on the Appalachian Trail. The scenery varies from large, open grassy balds to thick woods with mossy rocks and streams. We stopped a lot along the way to climb large boulders and even did shirtless yoga on top of one of the peaks. The weather was a dream: cold enough that the heat generated from our packs didn't overwhelm us and warm enough that we could be comfortable in short sleeves. The clear blue skies gave us access to scenery that was so pretty it seemed fake, as if someone had photoshopped it. We ate lunch on the rocks with breathtaking 360 views of surrounding mountains.
The hike was long but not particularly strenuous, mostly downhill with gradual uphills. We got to the end in the daylight and, as one of the drivers, I got the privilege of hitchhiking back to my car with Michael, the other driver. We were extremely lucky and got picked up almost immediately. Hikers often hitchhike along these roads so people in the area are accustom to giving rides. We got in three different cars and made it back to the rest of the group before nightfall. We then all went to dinner at the first restaurant we saw, a local cafe. Almost everyone ordered chili, grateful for hot food. That night, we opted against camping again. Bevin, one of the girls on the trip and the current OAR VP (since Frank graduated from his PhD program last spring), contacted the Logels, a family in North Carolina that many OAR members have befriended over the years. The Logels are the most welcoming of families, and they let us stay in their basement in a nearby town in North Carolina. The second oldest, who we all just call Logel for the most part, was college roommates with another current OAR member back in San Diego and is as much a member of OAR as I am. We spent some time with the entire family, having a basement jam session with their ukuleles and guitars.
The next morning, we woke up early and drive to Grayson Highlands, Virginia. Grayson is known for it's wild ponies. In the list serve email concerning this trip, Jeff described these ponies as "curious," a moniker we embraced, referring to them as "curious ponies" every time we discussed them. In addition to their curiosity, these ponies were also delightfully fat. They let us pet them and hug them with ease. The day hike in Grayson is about ten miles but part of the trail was flooded so we got a little creative on the way back. Again, the scenery varied a lot. There were a lot of really cool boulders that we climbed and also some gorgeous wild flowers. By the time we were a little over half way through the hike, I noticed a spot of blood on my heel. I knew better than to take off my shoes until we got to the car. My heel didn't hurt, but once the shoe came off, there were no guarantees. This ended up being a very wise decision. My entire heel was blistered and bloody, a large flap of skin dangling. Another sock sacrificed for the sake of OAR. Yet, I enjoyed the hike so much that I am actually planning my own trip to Grayson this upcoming April. Hopefully the ponies are still fat and curious.
Events occurred: November 3-6, 2011
The first time I went caving, I hated it. Ironically, I love it now and it has become one of my most frequent trip defaults. Tumbling Rock was just a poor first caving experience for me, not because anything went wrong but mostly due to my own peculiarities. Caves are extremely disorienting, particularly if you don't know what to expect. Though I've learned to distinguish formations and paths, the first time I went caving I thought everything looked the same and I was certain that I was going to get lost. The biggest problem with this trip was size. Caving is best in groups of three or four and this was a trip of at least 15. It's hard to keep a large group together and realizing that you don't know what path the leader has taken is terrifying. Even though I decided at the time that I would probably never go caving again (ha!), I still thought the experience was well worth it.
Like the foam armory I had brought to Mount Yonah, I came supplied with dollar section goods: glow sticks. My plan? A "cave rave" in which everyone turns off their headlamps and we wave glow sticks around in the darkness. I still keep at least one pack of glow sticks in my caving backpack, always prepared for another spontaneous cave rave. In retrospect, Tumbling Rock is probably an ok cave. When I went though, I thought parts of it were sketchy at best, climbing, crawling, and sliding around thick deposits of mud and rock. I also did not take well to the darkness, constantly yearning for sunlight and more visibility than my dim headlamp could provide. When we emerged, I was coated in mud and grateful for rays of sunshine. Cave mud is one of the most appealing aspects of caving to me. I always loved rolling around in mud as a little girl, much to my mother's chagrin, and I still love to play in it now. I was also amused by the cave's owner's cat, who ran around our campsite and even climbed into my jacket pocket at one point.
One of the most entertaining parts of this trip was the Rock Animal Zoo, located in someone's yard nearby. We climbed around on these giant boulders painted to the likeness of several different animals, including a chicken, cows, and a giraffe. Afterwards, we hiked up to Neversink, a large pit that I have since returned to and rappelled down into. At that point, however, I barely ventured close to the edge. I was so afraid that I would fall in that I clung to trees and tried to peek from a distance. Now, whenever I go to Neversink, I flit around the edge almost to a point of danger. It was beautiful, with a steady flow of water cascading into the darkness.
The next day, my car decided against going caving again. This was perfectly fine with me but one of the girls in our car ended up switching out with someone else who didn't want to cave again. Instead, we went hiking around Cloudland Canyon. The timing was PERFECT. The leaves were beginning to change and so we had the most incredible views of thick patches of green, yellow, orange, and red.
Events occurred: October 28-30, 2011
The perfect complement to my cycling trip was the relaxing paddle on the Suwannee River the next day. Two canoes full of OAR kids headed down the Suwannee, swimming in a random spring and heading to Bob's River Place. Bob's is a Florida institution. Started only a few years ago and shut down by the government on a regular basis, Bob's was open to the public by an older man (name Bob, obviously) who had built it initially for his grandchildren. Bob lives on the Suwannee River and turned his backyard into a small park, characterized by rope swings, slides, a sand volleyball court, a zipline, and a deck for karaoke. Unfortunately, because Bob had built this without paying mind to state regulations, a lot of it was closed when we were there, including the zipline and slides. Still, the rope swings, one affectionately named "Demon," were still open for business.
My aforementioned fear of heights also includes rope swings. Still, I took a chance and leapt off the edge, clinging to the rope for a few seconds before plunging into the river. The beach volleyball, however, was truly my forte. Despite mixing up the teams, I was on the winning side for all three games we played. My dedication to diving for the ball resulted in several bruises and an abundance of sand everywhere. The karaoke was another story and I was surprised that the other people at Bob's didn't revolt when some of the guys in my group decided to sing Lady Gaga. We swam around as well and eventually paddled back to the car. Our car was parked near a local convenience store, known for their incredible fudge and barbecue, just like most local Florida restaurants. The perfect end to a fun-filled, stress-free trip.
Events occurred: October 16, 2011
The only time I have been unqualified for a trip and not gotten away with it was when I ambitiously decided to bike across the state of Florida. I had just gotten a new road bike from my grandparents and I was eager to test it out. I should have learned more about cycling beforehand, because my seat was uncomfortably low for the first five miles and I had a lot of trouble figuring out how to change gears, which was different from my mountain bike. The most I had ridden at one time before this was probably 10 miles. This ride is more than 14 times that, about 142 miles total. I made it about half way, which, considering my lack of experience, I am proud of that. We drove our bikes down to St. Augustine the night before, camping on Anastasia Island. Waking up the next morning to the sunrise on the beach was glorious. Our group was more intense than I had anticipated: Emily had been training and though this was her first century (100 mile bike ride), she had ridden upwards of 80 miles before, Kyle was preparing for a half Iron Man competition, Tristan's height of about 6'5" was combined with a love of cycling, and Jorge (the trip leader) was also cycling enthusiast and had done this the previous year. Here I was, that stupid freshman who decided that it seemed fun and just signed up without putting in any thought or effort.
I kept up initially, with some difficulty going over the bridges. Eventually though, I slowed to the back of the pack and the others took turns staying back with me. When I was with Jorge, headed through Palatka, he popped both his tires and only had tubes for one. They ended up being the wrong size anyway, so we hitchhiked into town and found a bike shop. This was my first hitchhiking experience and I had some reservations, but Jorge reassured me and I decided to trust him. We ended up at the bike shop for an hour and Jorge replaced both of his tires with brand new ones. It was interesting to talk to the local owners of the shop and their customers, who all knew each other and most everyone in this small town.
Soon, we were on our way again, still far behind the rest of the group. Once we hit a hillier section of Florida, my knee felt like it was exploding. I had always had some knee issues, culminating in surgery my junior year of high school. Though it's mostly healed, I still feel some pain occasionally, particularly when I'm riding my bike. I persevered until I just couldn't go any further. We stopped at a random building on the side of the road, just a few miles east of Gainesville, and called Nina, our support team. She picked us up and dropped Jorge with the rest of the group. Though I didn't complete the ride, I still felt accomplished and pleased with my progress, though I regret holding Jorge back.
Events occurred: October 14-15, 2011
Though I didn't know it at the time, I created the perfect schedule for being an OAR member: class on Mondays and Fridays didn't start until 11:45. Most of the paddling trips I have been on in the past two years have been spontaneously put together at the absolute last minute. After one of the OAR meetings, a group of us, led by Michael and Carolanne, decided to go on a late night paddle, meeting at the Gear Shed around 9 PM. This worked out perfectly for me, since I had Mock Trial practice until 8:30 every Thursday of that semester. I sprinted over to meet everyone and we decided to paddle on Newnans Lake. There were six of us, but rather than taking two canoes, we decided to pack in like sardines in one. I strategically picked a spot in the middle so I wouldn't have to paddle as much. The moon was especially bright that night so we had no need to for headlamps, though we brought them just in case. There were other people on the lake, some chasing alligators and others throwing bonfire parties off the shore. We decided to crash this bonfire party and showed up via canoe, much to the surprise of the drunk college students throwing a party in what they thought was a private spot. They were very friendly though and our group laughed amongst ourselves at the situation: a bunch of random kids crashing a party by canoe. We didn't stay long, spending just enough time to be amused by the partiers' reactions. Headed back toward the middle of the lake, we got somewhat lost but eventually we found our way back to where we had put the canoe in, the first of many late night paddle sessions.
Events occurred: October 13, 2011
When I decided to go to Mount Yonah, I was (once again) in over my head. I had been rock climbing inside a few times but outdoors was an entirely new concept to me. Advertised as a beginner rock climbing trip, I decided that this was as good a time as ever to go for it. At this point, I didn't have any of my own rock climbing gear, but the club has harnesses and even a pair of women's climbing shoes that just so happened to be my size. They also just so happened to have a giant hole in the toe of one of the shoes, so I sacrificed a sock that weekend for the sake of climbing. We arrived at the parking lot around 2 AM or so but that wasn't the end of the night. We had to hike about two miles uphill, almost to the top of the mountain. A novice climber and hiker, I thought nothing of two miles and hiked the entire thing in flip flops, carrying a foam armory that I had purchased for the trip from the dollar section at Target in addition to the rest of my gear. Somehow, I aced the hike and was the first of my group to arrive at the top by a long shot. When I returned to Mount Yonah this past semester, I found myself sprinting ahead again with unlikely energy.
The campsite was just a short hike away from the climbing wall. I was up and ready to go, so I followed Jeff and some of the other more experienced climbers toward the wall. What I didn't realize was that they were heading to the top to set up the ropes and rappelling down to the bottom of the climbing wall. I had no idea what a rappel was or how to do it, so when Jeff offered the rope to me, I backed away and headed back down to camp. I found another group of climbers from OAR and we headed to the bottom of the wall together. Though the views were spectacular, I was terrified of where we had set up. To get to the climbing, we had to scramble up several large boulders and hold on to a metal cable for support. We saw some Boy Scouts in the area who had clipped in to the metal cable for extra safety. We did not do that. Yet, I still headed up with everyone else, carrying foam swords and axes with the intention of having sword fights on the climbing wall while suspended from ropes.
I knew nothing about the ratings of different rock climbing routes, which start around 5.4/5.5 and increase by 0.1 with difficulty, culminating in 5.15b. I think I was climbing 5.6s at this point but I didn't even know that. I just tied myself in and climbed. The adrenaline rush, mostly fueled by fear, was incredible. I loved it. I wanted to learn everything about rock climbing and I was asking questions about routes, gear, etc... I also liked the wall and sitting in the sun with my new friends. I hiked around the area briefly, taking in all the views.
The next day, we hiked down to a lower wall and climbed some more difficult routes. Perhaps I should specify: other people climbed harder routes, I mostly watched in awe. They also set up a rappel at the top that you could hike up to. It looked like fun but also terrifying. I had never rappelled before unless you count being lowered by my belayer after climbing, which I don't consider rappelling since someone else is in control of your actions. I finally garnered the courage to rappel. Carolanne helped me set up my harness and rappel device and encouraged me to step over the edge once she made sure I had doubled back all the straps, which I had not. This took a lot of convincing but once I was on rappel, I realized how safe I felt and how much fun I was having hanging on a rope several feet above the ground. I actually liked the control and the ability to go as quickly or as slowly as I wanted. Since then, I have rappelled over a 100 times and I still feel fear and adrenaline pulse through my body every time I step over the edge.
Events occurred: October 7-9, 2011
Immediately following my trip to Gregory Bald Mountain, I decided to attend an actual meeting of OAR. At this point, I had been to various club meetings around UF, so I thought I knew what to expect. I was wrong. The club meets in the lobby of a building within the football stadium, Yon Hall. A random assortment of chairs and a vending machine pretty much describes the entire space. I have since learned that getting a seat in a chair is a rarity at OAR meetings, so I always show up early to secure a spot. Fortunately, my punctuality combined with a concern that I would get lost meant that I was one of the first few people to arrive. At this meeting, I met the club's President, Jeff, and Vice President, Frank, two PhD students who had been in OAR since their undergraduate years. As the youngest sibling (and only girl) in my family by six and eight years, I was used to hanging around with older people. I've realized that most new freshmen are intimidated by the high percentage of grad students in OAR, but I embrace them like I would my own brothers. Jeff's nonchalant mannerisms and relaxed way of running meetings surprised me. There was no powerpoint, no generic speech given, no attendance sheet circling the room. Meeting length fluctuates from 15 minutes to over an hour depending on how many trips have recently happened, how many impending trips there are, and how many people actually show up, which can vary from three to over 30. This one was also rather short, followed up by a trip to Mochi, a fro-yo place, and then hanging out at Kelly's house, one of the members. I had walked to the meeting because my dorm was just down the street, so I got a ride from another member, Andy. He was also a grad student and is now the new president of OAR since Jeff left for Africa in March of 2012 (though Jeff has since returned, he did not resume his position as president despite having held it since at least 2006). Upon arriving at Kelly's, I was attacked with flour. Yes, flour, as in I'm-baking-cookies-and-I-need-some-flour. After running around her house and yard with white clouds exploding everywhere for about 30 minutes, we headed inside and played board games. Not exactly your typical college club meeting, but definitely your typical OAR meeting. Unfortunately, I signed up for Mock Trial in one of my pre-law clubs, so my after-meeting activity attendance was sporadic. Yet, after that first meeting, I never missed another one if I could help it.
Events occurred: September 29, 2011
When I decided to sign up for a backpacking trip, I didn't know anything about backpacking, camping, or anything of the sort. I had some general idea: you have a backpack, you carry it up a mountain, you set up a tent and sleep in it, you go down the mountain and go home. This oversimplification was my first mistake, though I never admitted it to anyone on the trip. The first step was gathering gear. I had an old backpack that my grandparents gave me, which I still use and love. I went out and bought new shoes, low ankle hiking boots that I mistakenly did not bother to break in. As far as food, I pretty much only packed cliff bars and I didn't prepare for the elevation-induced cold since I was accustom to Septembers in Florida. To top it all off, I did not understand the practicality of a sleeping pad and thought it was a comfort rather than for warmth, so I left mine in Gainesville without thinking twice. Off to a great start already, huh?
The plan was to meet at the Gear Shed at five. A stickler for punctuality and an over-anxious freshman, I got there around 4:30. However, I did not have the code for the lockbox nor did I even have any idea where it was, so I promptly left and waited out my time at a local fro-yo shop. By the time it hit five o'clock on the dot, I was back in my car headed for the Gear Shed. Luckily, it was open. Since then, I have taken care to remember the codes because I am usually one of the first people to get there for a trip. I hopped in the first available car and by the time it hit nightfall, I found myself driving for the first time through windy mountain roads in a car that didn't even come close to handling as well as mine does.
Arriving at campsites around 3 AM, I have learned, is very typical of OAR. I promptly passed out in my sleeping bag, sans pad, and was awoken the next morning to everyone eating breakfast. I didn't mind having only cliff bars and they are still often a staple in my trip diet. Soon thereafter, we packed up and headed up the mountain. Hiking was an unreal experience for me. I simultaneously loathed and loved the solitude of backpacking alone. My mind was buzzing and my eyes darted across the landscape, which was predominantly a tunnel of trees. We stopped for lunch at a ranger watch tower. Climbing to the top was exhilarating and the views were breathtaking. The rest of the hike was more of the same. Our large group of at least 25 continuously shifted around me with every step. Sometimes I was alone, other times I had up to six different companions. I tried to talk to everyone as much as possible. By the time I reached the bald at the top of the mountain, I was exhausted. The uphill portions were more strenuous than I had anticipated and I was relieved to collapse in a heap and relax for a while.
Our intention was to camp at the top, on the bald. However, this is not legal (at least for this particular mountain). As I had finally gotten my tent set up, a ranger came and told us to vacate. There was a campsite a little ways down the mountain that we ended up staying in. There was no debating with this ranger, who's intensity and large gun intimidated me. I hastily packed my tent and started hiking down, my headlight illuminating the path. The campfire was weak but we made friends with some older hikers and I consumed another cliff bar. This night was colder than the last, especially at a higher elevation, so I crammed into my two-person tent with two other freshman girls and our backpacks. The next morning, we headed down. I loved going down, jumping from rock to rock and sprinting ahead of most everyone on our trip. That was, until a took a false step and twisted my ankle. Luckily, one of the guys had ibuprofen. I continued on much more slowly and with more caution.
Reaching the car was a moment of triumph. I peeled off my sock and boots, revealing large blisters and spots of blood. It was well worth it in my opinion. Once everyone had gathered, we decided to go apple picking in Ellijay, GA. Only two of our cars ended up going and I was happy to be in one of those two. We watched pig races and picked an entire bag full of apples, which ended up lasting me for over a week despite numerous apple-filled recipe attempts. Thus was the trip that started it all, inspiring me to challenge myself physically and mentally almost every weekend and encouraging me to travel the world.
Events occurred: September 23-25, 2011
The bus ride from Plovdiv to Istanbul was disconcerting. The bus company overbooked and we almost didn't get seats. A lot of people had to stand in the aisles and the bus ride was lengthy. When we arrived in Istanbul, we decided to explore the infamous bazaars. The Grand Bazaar is a huge indoor marketplace, overloaded with rugs, lamps, pashminas, jewelry, and other trinkets. I bought myself a pashmina and another one for my friend Kathryn. I also bought my mom, sister-in-law, and some other friends hand embroidered coin purses and evil eye bracelets. After that, we went to the Spice Bazaar, a smaller marketplace that sold hundreds of spices, teas, nuts, fruits, pastries, and Turkish Delight. I bought some spices for my parents and a half-kilo each of Turkish Delight for my brothers, dad, and grandparents.
While in Turkey, we also visited the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia. The Hagia Sophia was beautiful and it was interesting to see the Christianity versus Islam wars that occurred there. I think that it would have been more beautiful as a church, mostly because that was how it was originally intended and I thought the iconography of the church was incredible. Spending Christmas Eve in Turkey was strange, not only because it is a predominantly Muslim country so Christmas isn't acknowledged, but because I wasn't with my family. I chose that day to venture out on my own while the others went to a museum. I headed back toward the Grand Bazaar and ran into Jack, an American staying at our hostel that I had met the night before. He was travelling by himself because he had been on the Israel Birthright trip and decided to explore more of the world while he was able. We went to the Bazaar together and I haggled for a handmade, hand painted bowl for my mom. Then we walked around, splitting off near the University. I met up with Emily, Brice, and Andrew again. We decided to go to a Turkish hookah bar and spent the evening walking around.
The following day, we walked around another part of the city. We saw some Roman-style aqueducts. Andrew split off and the rest of us returned to the Spice Bazaar for more Turkish Delight and spices. After he left, Emily Brice, and I walked along the Bosphorus before returning to the hostel. Since it was Christmas day and our last day to spend in Istanbul before our flight the next morning, we all decided to splurge on a traditional Turkish bath. The men and women were separated and luckily our group consisted of two members of each sex. Emily and I decided to fully embrace what we thought was the norm in Turkish baths and went in with just our towels on. To our slight embarrassment, we discovered that most of the women were in their underwear. We started in the sauna, gripping our towels very tightly. However, once we were called out to start our baths, the woman in charge of us ripped our towels off of us and we decided to embrace the situation. The Turkish bath was the perfect end to this trip, I have never felt so clean in my life. We were each fully scrubbed down and exfoliated, our hair washed in warm water. It was also nice to feel so warm and clean after having been in the snow and cold rain for so many days. We returned to the sauna afterwards and ended up spending a few hours there longer than the guys. That night, we had a nice dinner and prepared for the long journey home. 
