Archive for the ‘MY WRITING’ Category

VETERANS’ DAY

November 12, 2014

I wasn’t a war hero.  I was just a ship’s doctor.  Some doc had to be on the larger Navy ships, and I got chosen. I didn’t do much, since young sailors were healthy, other than getting drunk or gonorrhea.  This was in the era when STD meant “something to do,” rather than “sexually transmitted disease.”

Still, I did two appendectomies at sea, under my own spinal anesthesia.  I did a few other useful things, like untwist a testicle (a testicular torsion), something that will make most men cringe to think of it.  I had never seen one before, but when I saw the poor sailor writhing in pain, I knew what it was.  I didn’t know exactly what to do, but warm soaks, intravenous diazepam, and twisting the proper direction unwound the wounded member like a rubber band.

I don’t celebrate Veterans Day, for to me, it is for those who served on the front lines, which I didn’t. I got a haircut and tipped the woman more than I usually do.  She did a good job, I already get a discount for being old, and it made her day better.  An hour later, I got a free triple chocolate Mocha from Dutch Brothers for being a veteran, so I learned what goes around comes around.  Nice lesson.  The real vets to me are the guys and gals at war.  I bet they don’t think of themselves as heroes, just sailors, soldiers, and airmen sailors serving their country.

One of my hiking buddies was a Marine in Vietnam, who fought at Hue.  If you know how to pronounce it properly, you know what that battle meant.  My friend never said more; he didn’t have to, and I was smart enough not to ask.  He has a Disabled Veteran License Tag on his truck, but he can out hike me easily.  He’s quite a guy.  He’s seen hell and come back. I haven’t done that.  But I did help one man during my service.

There was a ship’s executive officer (XO) in my squadron, a Type I diabetic.  I knew that and asked my boss whether a diabetic’s serving on a ship was allowed in the Navy.  Apparently for this officer, it was, so I didn’t say anything more.

The ship had no doctor aboard; an independent duty corpsman was in charge.  I soon learned his ship had failed medical inspection for the upcoming deployment. I was ordered to go over and make everything shipshape, literally.

I volunteered to go aboard for 3 days, when the ship went to sea briefly.  I don’t remember what my wife thought about it, but work was work, and 3 days at sea gave me a lot of time to get things done.  I took a break the first morning and went topside to the bridge wing to get some fresh air.  I don’t remember whether we could still see the southern California coast, but in any case the Captain soon walked up. I saluted, he didn’t, and without a hi, reamed me a new one for trying to torpedo the career of his executive officer.  I didn’t know what he meant and asked him such.  In no uncertain terms, he said, his XO was being handled by a Captain-doctor at the Navy hospital in San Diego, who knew a lot more about diabetes than I did.  I was ordered to stay out of the issue.  He left, not returning my salute.  That’s a bit rude, but I wasn’t about to argue.  The doctor in San Diego did know more than I.  And I don’t argue with Captains.  I also became more careful what I told my boss.  Word gets around.

The ship subsequently passed inspection, and we deployed together, until Hawaii, when we went south and they went west.  It wasn’t until mid-November, 6 weeks into the deployment, in Subic Bay, when we were together.  This would become only time of the whole 8 month deployment we would be.  They were moored on the opposite side of Subic, but I figured I ought to go over and see how things were going.  Whether I walked or took a cab, I don’t remember, and it isn’t important.  When I went aboard, the corpsman practically ran me down.  “Quick, the XO”!!  I knew immediately what was wrong, and when we barreled up 3 decks to the XO’s stateroom, he was sweating, confused, and staggering around the room.  A vial of insulin and a glass of orange juice were on the desk.

To this day, I don’t remember what the corpsman would have done, but diabetics without insulin do not crash in a few minutes the way TV portrays them.  Diabetics with too much insulin do crash suddenly.  I took out a syringe of 50 cc 50% glucose, which I made sure the ship had before they left port, and gave it to the XO IV.  Within seconds, he was normal.

But, in the space of an hour, his career as a seagoing officer was over.  The Chief Staff Officer (CSO), the Commodore of the Squadron’s right hand man, drove the XO to the Navy Hospital at Subic; I sat in back. The XO didn’t need hospitalization, but he could no longer stay on the ship.  Fourteen years of service, and at best, he would do his 20 years and retire, maybe as head of a shore duty facility.  To this day, I don’t know if he was mustered out.  I hope not.

On the way back to my ship, the CSO, whose name I still remember, told me that I was right in wanting the XO off the ship before deployment. I learned a lot that day: first, that I was needed.  Had the XO been given insulin, which might have happened had I not been there, he would have died or been permanently brain-damaged from hypoglycemic encephalopathy.

But I learned something far greater: this was an “I told you so” moment, and I did not gloat.  Instead, I had a pronounced feeling of sadness.  The man should not have been aboard ship; that was clear.  I didn’t know as much about diabetes as the doctor in San Diego, but I knew a lot more about shipboard medical issues.

I learned that being right comes with a price of being sad about it.  If I am right about climate change, I bet I will be sad, and won’t gloat, for how does gloating fix the problem?

Today, for the first time, I wondered how the CO of the ship felt.  I never saw him again.  In any case, sir, I hope your career was successful.  The main point was that your XO didn’t crash at sea, where things would have been a lot worse.  We were lucky that day.

To the CSO, I salute you and your wise words.  Your calmness helped me learn that doing the right thing is far more important than gloating about it.

Happy Veterans Day.

WEATHERING THE STORM

November 6, 2014

“As soon as they started covering over those graves with dirt, the hurricane moved north.  Now, was that a coincidence, or was it due to the desecration of those graves?”

The exact wording was probably a little different, but the meaning was not. This TV show was not on some sci-fi network but rather The Weather Channel (TWC), which formerly discussed the weather throughout the US, not century-old hurricane folklore.  TWC has shows about prospectors mining gems, staying on mountains during thunderstorms, exceedingly unwise.  Storm Chasers shows people outside in the middle of thunderstorms, filming or looking, extremely dangerous; lightning is one of the biggest weather killers in the US.  The towing company series in the Canadian Rockies didn’t belong on TWC but with “Ice Road Truckers,” a good show, when most of the dialogue wasn’t edited out because of profanity.

Weather Co. CEO David Kenny:  “The bottom line is, reality television on TWC needs to be based in science and storytelling.”  How about basing it on current weather and teaching people at the same time?

Science, I like; storytelling to make the supernatural appear “it really could have happened,” I don’t. Storytelling about “It could happen tomorrow,” makes some think that their lives will be snuffed out any second.  We need to inject a little reality, probability, and science into the discussion. We do not have to be afraid of everything every second.  Nature is not out to get us, regardless of what some may think.  There is no right or wrong in nature, only consequences.

Tonight, the discussion was about California prospectors in the 19th century; the only mention of weather being that “storms could form in a moment,” which isn’t true.  Storms give warning.  No mention was made of the historic drought in California, the warmest October on record in parts of Oregon, or snow in Charleston.  The US has more interesting weather than any other place in the world.  Why aren’t they discussing it?

TWC used to be thorough, reporting and discussing national weather.  While there was often unexplained jargon, it was interesting. I could have done without the notion “rain is bad, sun is good,” because I lived in a place with a 20 year drought (not mentioned), where eventually people notice it hasn’t rained for 4 months, plants are dying, reservoirs are drying up, and fires are burning.

Years ago, a local Arizona weatherman gave 5-day forecasts.  He eschewed longer ones, appropriately, because the probability of a 7-day forecast’s being correct was about 50%.  One day, he suddenly started using 7-day forecasts. I wrote him and asked him why he had changed.

“I was at a meeting of TV weathermen,” he replied, “and I learned the public wanted 7-day forecasts.”

So?  The public wants forecasts that have a 50-50 probability of being accurate, and we should give them?  No wonder people complain about forecasts!  Why do we give exact temperatures in forecasts, rather than a range of 5 degrees?  Why are apps telling us what the weather will be at every hour for the next day?  If busy people need to know the weather, have them look at the sky on the way to work and learn something about probability and margin of error.  Both of these need to be taught in the schools, by the way.

“The public wants answers, and they want the bottom line.”  Sometimes, there is no simple answer, and we can’t summarize a complex problem in 30 seconds.  Weather forecasting is one of the great triumphs of technology, but it still is inaccurate.  Cold fronts can stall, the rain-snow line may change a few miles, and models can suddenly change on a new run.

We would do well to remember that the world is subject to natural laws that we understand only partially.  We can predict a few things with certainty and others with some degree of probability less than 100%.  If people don’t like that, then perhaps they should vote for those who will fund science better.  I don’t believe a lot of economic forecasts, because they don’t have probability or confidence intervals.  I’d like to hear that “there is a 35% chance the stock market will reach a new record high in the next 6 months, based upon modeling of investor behavior.”  We don’t have that ability.  Instead, pundits are bullish and bearish about behavior that depend highly upon unpredictable world events.  Slight market changes are explained by behavior other than random noise, which is often the reason.  I would remind people that on 1 January, nobody dreamed two Malaysian airliners would be lost, one not found, and one shot out of the sky.  Nobody predicted there would be Ebola in the US, the Ukraine, the rise of ISIS, or sea stars dying off the US West Coast.  Nobody predicted in 2008 that the unemployment would be almost halved and the Dow would reach a new high by 2014.  At least the Republicans didn’t.  That is a fact.

While 5 day forecasts have unpredictability, we can be much more confident about climatic conditions on Earth.  Indeed, we have a confidence interval greater than 95% that man is changing the Earth’s climate.  That is statistically and realistically important.

Yet, TWC stopped discussing climate change several years ago.  Heidi Cullen, climate scientist at not-profit Climate Central (note the adjective), was on TWC for 2 years, before it was cancelled by NBC, after it bought the channel.  She got a lot of hate mail, and that hurts ratings.

Dr. Cullen didn’t state her message properly, however.  On The Colbert Report, she used examples floods in Pakistan and the coming displacement of Bangladeshis due to ocean rise.  The reality is that most Americans don’t care about those countries.  A high percentage of high school students can’t find Bangladesh on a map and I would bet 95% couldn’t name its capital, and even more don’t know what it was once called.  Why didn’t she talk about the drought in Texas, that was with high confidence due to climate change, or the changing migration pattern of birds in the US?

“It’s business.”  Yep.  It is.  Give the public what they want, and you will get rich.  Give them what they need, and you have a more enlightened society.  How rich do you have to be?  That has an upper bound.  How enlightened should a society be?  There is no upper bound.

I quit watching TWC.  I’ll look at the models myself and make my own forecasts, rather than worrying about what will happen if an asteroid crashes into the Earth.  Sure, the latter may happen, but I’m more concerned about tomorrow’s weather, if I should decide to go hiking and actually see the real, and not virtual world.

I’d rather be enlightened than super rich.

JERK JUNCTION

October 30, 2014

I reached Jerk Junction the other morning, and the quickness at which I took Jerk Road surprised me.

We have a car in Arizona that needs Oregon plates, since we now live in Oregon.  From a Web site, we read that it was possible to do so by mail without having to drive the car up.  I gathered the needed information, title, proof of insurance, residency, my identification, and a check.  I figured DMV would have no problem taking my money.  I didn’t wait long, and I told the man at the counter what I needed.

“You need to bring the car up here so we can verify the VIN.”

“That’s not what your website says.”

“You have to do it.”  He turned to the woman working next to him and she agreed.  The idea of “What about using Face Time?” didn’t occur to me.

I arrived at Jerk Junction and took Jerk Road, rather than “Suck it Up Road,” a quieter route.

“You need to fix your website,” I replied loudly, thinking of a 2800 mile round trip I would need to make by car and a thousand dollars to fly and drive.  I didn’t swear but left in a huff, muttering about processes in this country and wondering aloud what language they were speaking.

I’ve taken Jerk Road too often.  I try not to, but I have skunk anger, and while I have mellowed with age, I can still erupt.  I never hit people, only things.  I don’t use weapons, and I don’t threaten harm, but I’m still on Jerk Road.

I felt badly and actually wrote a letter to DMV apologizing for my behavior.  My wife said that was “stunningly noble.”  I thought it was hardly either, just mousier than going back and personally apologizing,  I did feel better after sending it.

We all reach Jerk Junction sooner or later. I wish I would turn off on Suck it Up Road more often.

Six hours later, out walking in the park, we pass a man wearing headphones, using a cane, and with an unleashed dog, the last against park regulations.  The dog comes running at me, and I turn to head it away.  No problem, but I was annoyed.  Twenty seconds later, the dog comes at me so close that I had to use a newspaper I had to gently deflect him.  My wife, who can be delightfully vocal at the right time, spoke up, “The dog is required to be on a leash.”

The man replied, “People ought to be leashed, too.”

I stopped.  Cold.  At Jerk Junction.  The man was already on Jerk Road.  I could challenge him:  we were fifty yards apart, walking in opposite directions.  I shouted at him in German and turned down Suck it Up.  It defused me and caused no harm.  Briefly, I thought of confronting him on Jerk Road.  I quickly dismissed the notion as  (1) not being worth it, because he wouldn’t change, (2) risking being shot, since this is America, and (3) risking a fist fight.  Wrong road.

On the other hand, had his dog bitten me, I would have run home, calling urgent care on the way, washing the wound with soap when I arrived, since rabies virus is fat soluble. I likely would have had to undergo immunization, because five will get you ten the guy’s dog was unvaccinated.  Five will get you twenty that had we found the dog, the man wouldn’t have quarantined it.  People, you see, have rights.  The sagebrush rebellion folks, Cliven Bundy types, neither neuter their animals, nor control the number of kids they spawn nor likely served in the military, have rights.  They put up signs extolling a climate change denier running for Congress, believes radiation is good for people, wants to privatize SSI and Medicare, and said public schools were child abuse, as he hawked his $195 home school program. I know one of these guys personally, who got free care from doctors he knew, as he railed against “government doctors.” His IRAs (government program) were cashed out to pay for part of a hospitalization for heart difficulties (the hospital ate most of his bill), leaving him penniless.  I never asked him what he thought of the Affordable Care Act. Having done so would have put me on Jerk Road.  On 5 June 2012, I showed the medical society the Transit of Venus; when I said the planet was 26 million miles distant, the guy commented, “that’s less than the national debt.”  His political snipe was straight from Jerk Road. I stopped at Jerk Junction and didn’t follow.

We left the man in the Park with his dog.  We took Suck it Up Road home.

The irony is we are animal people.  I am not wild about dogs being carried everywhere, including planes (a recent New Yorker article detailed how one such dog pooped twice on the floor, the odor forcing an emergency landing to remove dog and owner, to the cheers of the passengers).  I don’t see why dogs should be allowed in restaurants, I don’t like them off a leash, where “he never did that before” may occur. But people love their dogs, and I grew up with one.

Being upset in DMV is hardly illegal.  Some might argue it is normal.  Dogs off a leash or in a food handling place are illegal. Not picking up after a dog is also illegal. Violators are seldom caught; their dog has just pooped on Jerk Road.

A while back, at Safeway, a guy ahead of me in the check out line glared at me strangely, after I moved my cart forward.  I was almost certain I didn’t hit him, but his look shot nails as if I had.  He was at Jerk Junction.  Simultaneously, the cashier started asking me several questions.  I hit overload, held up my hand, and told the cashier to stop talking.

I hit the brakes just before Jerk Junction, turned to the glaring man, apologized for hitting him, then turned back to the cashier, allowing him to talk.  The cashier later said I hadn’t touched the man, who was apparently having a bad day.  Yes, some people spend most of the day idling at Jerk Junction.  OK, an unnecessary apology.  But I didn’t go down Jerk Road.

One can’t be too careful at Jerk Junction.  Many arrive there armed, which is a bad combination. Americans have a lot of guns, killing 11,000 annually. I don’t want to be dead or one of the seventy-three thousand in the ED this year with a gunshot wound.  The Second Amendment is king here; people have the ability to buy a powerful weapon with no background checks, and use it in any way they see fit. My rights don’t count.

It’s quicker these days to reach Jerk Junction with more stress, more people, and a more complicated world. I know I will arrive there often.  That is life.  I can choose, however, to turn off on Suck it Up.  That would be wisdom.

FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS…21st CENTURY VERSION.

October 23, 2014

 

“…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.  And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee”  (John Donne)

“Pneumonia is the friend of the elderly.”

“That’s what Meredith says happened to her mother. Though she received $40,000 worth of care in her last two months of life, not one of her 25 doctors sat down with Dorothy Glas and her family and discussed how she wanted to die.”

If Islamic terrorists shot down a plane with 400 people on board, we would have the country’s airspace shut down, fighter jets guarding our airspace, and the economy would suffer a huge blow.  Since June, that many women have died at the hands of a man they knew.  Not much outrage.  Since early August, that many children have died because of firearms. No outrage.

As I write, Ebola, with a death toll of 1 in the US, has caused pilots not to show up to fly, schools to close, and people to buy biohazard suits.  This is the “home of the brave”? The facts: at the time of writing, the 3-week quarantine for people who treated the index case in the emergency room has quietly ended. No other cases have occurred.  Ebola has dominated the news, with a large number of articles, posts, political cartoons, demands to “do something,” stop all travel with West Africa, which is a large area, most of which is not infected with Ebola.  It is worth looking at a map of Africa some time.  The continent is 50% larger than North America.  Two thousand languages are spoken.  Worrying about “West Africa” is like worrying in Portland, Maine for a problem in Atlanta.

I am not getting to my point soon enough.  Twenty thousand people a year commit suicide in the US using firearms.  I am not talking about murders, which are about eleven thousand.  But hey, to misquote Stalin, a single death is a tragedy and a million are a statistic. We tolerate similar carnage on our highways.  A young couple and their 7-month old died on US 20 the other day near Santiam Pass following a collision with a larger vehicle. It wasn’t Ebola, so there was no outcry.  But they are still dead.  There is no way we can prevent all these deaths, but we ought to do better.  Seventy-three thousand people go to emergency departments with gunshot wounds (GSWs) every year.  The current congressional representative from Tucson, Ron Barber, whom I know, walks with a limp, for he was shot at the “Tucson Massacre” in 2011, where his predecessor, Gabby Giffords, whom I also know, was severely injured by a GSW through the parietal lobe.  Her remarkable recovery, sadly incomplete, is inspiring.  A crazy man with a gun did that.

Ron has to campaign supporting the Second Amendment, even though he was a casualty of the fact that the Second Amendment apparently has no limits in the US, at least if one wishes to get elected.

Fact: the number of homicides per 100,000 people has fallen 50% since 1993.  This, however, has not been the case with suicides. Many of us think gun violence has increased.  It hasn’t.  It is still too high.  One is too high.  Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death, and firearm use in suicides accounts for more than sixty per cent of all firearm deaths.  Firearm deaths are a public health issue far exceeding Ebola, four times that of ALS, and fifty times that of Cystic Fibrosis.

Why would the NRA, therefore, through its influence in the Senate, try to block a Surgeon General’s nomination, who believes that firearm violence is a major public health issue?  Isn’t it? If a death from Ebola is major, what about twenty thousand a year from firearm suicides?  Is that not a public health issue?  Sure, a determined person who wants to die will find a way, but many suicides can be prevented.  We know this. The availability of firearms makes suicide a lot easier.  What about homicides, especially the women who die from being murdered by their husbands or boyfriends?  Why do we panic over Ebola but are so silent when it comes to men killing women and people killing themselves with firearms?

Come to think of it, on 60 Minutes, a doctor expressed outrage at Oregon’s Death with Dignity Act (DWDA), because he called it assisted suicide.  We call it “hastening” here.  Hey, they use their words, and I will use mine.  The DWDA was voted in twice by Oregon voters, despite political action by the Catholic Church (they should have lost tax-exempt status), upheld by the Supreme Court, and accounted for exactly 112 deaths in Oregon last year. The major reasons people choose hastening is not because of pain, which is still poorly treated, and the Dartmouth physician should be addressing that, but because all are terminal and have had enough. Here are their major reasons:

Losing autonomy  (93%)

Less able to engage in activities making life enjoyable  (89%)

Loss of dignity  (73%)

All 112 were going to die in a few months.  They wanted to choose when and how.  They were not depressed, as was alleged; 2 last year required psychiatric evaluation, and as a neurologist, who diagnosed depression long before the diagnosis was “mainstream,” I have some idea of what I am talking about.  No, these people had enough.  When one stood in front of the mirror one morning, after having lost 40% of his body weight, likened himself to an Auschwitz survivor, he had seen enough.  He knew what was coming, and he wanted to be in control.

Public health issues?  There are many.  Firearms are one, and the NRA is wrong to recommend against a Surgeon General nominee who understands that.  We can easily fix Ebola, and DWDA is what most people want to have an option. If you don’t believe me, volunteer at a nursing home some time, where demented people get their pneumonia treated, so they can go back to the same existence.

Finally, every adult, and let me repeat, every adult, needs a living will.  Young people can be brain damaged from accidents and they can get cancer, too.  Be very clear on what your end of life desires are.  You do have choices.  You can make choices I may not.  That is your right.

I don’t want my pneumonia treated, should I become demented.  It will be my friend.

TWO SIDES TO A STORY: FACTS AND UNSUBSTANTIATED OPINIONS

October 14, 2014

I didn’t start it, but I did finish it.

My wife and I took an early morning shuttle to the Minneapolis airport after our annual weeklong trip into the Boundary Waters.  Coming out of the woods after a trip requires readjusting to a lot of people and noise.  We had been been in a world where nature ruled.  It is not inherently dangerous in the woods, if one can read the weather, understand animal behavior, and constantly observe the surroundings.  There isn’t any right or wrong out there, only consequences.  We’d do well to heed that aphorism in nature today.

The other passenger was a woman from California’s central valley, who began a conversation with the shuttle driver about the drought.  The conversation soon devolved to the smelt, a fish that had been protected for years, but whose protection now cost sending water to farms.

After hearing “tree huggers”, I then heard her say “people have priority over fish.”  The fish had been protected by people, so I wasn’t following her reasoning.  The fish doesn’t have a choice but to live in water; people have the choice to control their numbers and use water properly, especially in dry areas, like the central valley.  Nature doesn’t tell us to control population or water use, but there are consequences if we don’t. The lady then referred to herself as “an environmentalist.”

I was beginning to seethe but held my tongue, as we would soon disembark.  My wife, however, who usually stays quiet, commented, “Some of us back here feel differently.”  Her words ignited me.

“Perhaps if California had a better system to allocate water and acted a lot earlier, this wouldn’t be a problem,” I began.  “Perhaps we shouldn’t try to grow certain crops in places where the rainfall is capricious.  If Fresno used the same water per capita as Phoenix, 3/4 million acre feet would be saved annually. Half the houses in Sacramento don’t have water meters.”  I had a dozen more things I wanted to say, including rainwater harvesting, fixing leaks, not brushing teeth with the faucet running, and 90-second showers, but we were at the airport.

“There are two sides to every story, I guess,” the woman replied.

“Yes,” I shot back.  “Facts and unsubstantiated opinions.”

That ended the discussion.

I don’t bring up controversial topics in places like airport shuttles.  But if they are mentioned, I may add my two cents’ worth.  What annoys me about the “two sides to every story” argument is many assume both sides are telling the truth.  They aren’t.  We have become a society where everybody’s say is equal to everybody else’s, and if Fox News wants to lie, it can, without consequences.  In 2014, we still allow equal time to those who believe the Earth is 10,000 years old, or that the highest carbon dioxide levels in humanity’s history have no consequences.  A large percentage of Americans feel there is no climate crisis, because enough doubt is interjected by the other side, especially by those who are good looking, sound sincere, misuse statistics, or just yell and bully— all are effective—to make their case.  We shouldn’t be debating evolution or the climate in 2014; animals are already evolving—or going extinct—because of us.  We should be trying to develop workable solutions to major problems.

I am disturbed by those with influence—I will use Sen. John McCain, for example—who violate their duty to use such influence wisely.  Mr. McCain has said many things I have disagreed with during the two decades I was his constituent.  His coming to my new state, Oregon, to campaign against a sitting Senator, once considered unethical by the Senate, bothered me.

What McCain said would have been laughable if so many people didn’t believe it.  He said that challenger Dr. Monica Wehby would be the “go-to” person to fix the VA System, since she had experience with the VA.

Mr. McCain voiced unsubstantiated opinions.  Here are facts:  Dr. Wehby is a pediatric neurosurgeon who had some of her training at the VA, like every other doctor, including me.  How many pediatric patients are at the VA?  None, unless we are conscripting kids for our several wars.  I too, trained at the VA, both as a medical student and as a neurology resident.  I saw patients. I did not know anything about running the system, and in my unsubstantiated opinion neither did Dr. Wehby. Fact: nobody with whom I trained had that experience. Fact:  Dr. Wehby has had two restraining orders placed on her by men.  That doesn’t disqualify her from the Senate, but at at time when we are polarized, her presence isn’t likely to help. That’s an opinion from one who studied psychiatry (a fact), along with an opinion that two restraining orders suggests an individual has serious anger issues. It is possible to be a good neurosurgeon yet a poor senator.  Opinion.

Fact:  Dr. Wehby is a physician running for the Senate.  Her medical training actually makes her less likely than the average physician to deal with health care finance, because she is highly specialized and less exposed to insurance issues than the average FP.  Fact.

I remember the last well-known physician-senator, Dr. Bill Frist, who also campaigned against Sen. Tom Daschle in South Dakota.  Frist had the absolute gall to say that Terri Schiavo was clearly conscious, on the basis of a video, because she laughed, when the late Ms. Schiavo was in a persistent vegetative state, a fact, where automatic smiling may occur, like in babies.  Fact: The American Academy of Neurology filed an amicus curiae brief with the Florida court, and Ms. Schiavo’s brain at autopsy weighed 600 gm, the least in an adult I ever saw as a neurologist.  Fact: I saw many brains at autopsy and cut brains to teach anatomy to the nursing staff at the hospital where I practiced.  Fact: Congress was called back for an emergency session in March 2005 to block Mr. Schiavo’s wishes to stop support.  Fact: some physician-legislators who were not neurologists weighed in with opinions without ever examining Ms. Schiavo.  Fact: I was a fellow of the AAN who had dealt with many vegetative cases in my career and supported the ethicists in the AAN who did examine Ms. Schiavo.

Yes, there are two sides to every story, but they are usually not equal.  We aren’t tossing a coin here, with a 50% probability of heads; we are dealing with the smelt, fresh water allocation, the climate, who runs the country, war, Ebola, overpopulation, the Earth’s age, and resource degradation.  We should be using science, models, and probabilities.  The probability that the Earth is older than 10,000 tropical years is 1. The confidence we have that manmade climate change is occurring is over 95%. Fact. California cannot continue to use water the way it once did.  Fact.  Unsubstantiated opinion:  America needs decisions made less by charisma and screaming and more by science and careful deliberation.

Fact: Soon.

SECEDE DOES NOT EQUAL SUCCESS

October 7, 2014

A significant number of people in America would like their state to peacefully secede from the Union.  Not surprisingly, the percentage is high in the western US and rural areas, home of rugged individualists, who want to be left alone, at least until something happens they don’t like, when they say, “somebody ought to pass a law against that.” My fellow doctors were like that, too.  They wanted to be left alone, until somebody muscled in on their turf, then wanted “administration” to do something about it.  Don’t get me wrong.  All of us are hypocrites at times.  I am.  But I admit it.

I am open to new ideas but seldom like those that were tried and failed, unless circumstances have changed.  A non-peaceful split resulted in the bloodiest war in American history.

I certainly can empathize with secession:  when I lived in Tucson, I was subject to laws passed in Phoenix, where progressive voices were drowned out by the Maricopa County crazies.  Many of us said, “Free Baja Arizona”  as a joke.  Our governor vetoed the bad laws, until she got tapped to head Homeland Security, part of the decimation of good Democrats whom Mr. Obama picked for cabinet positions.  Not counting him and Mr. Biden, at least four good senators and two Democratic governors in red states were lost, hurting the Senate, Kansas, and Arizona, which has never recovered.

But back to secession.  As a joke, in 1982, Key West declared itself the Conch Republic, declared war on the US, surrendered, and wanted aid.  The then mayor, if I remember correctly, actually got death threats.

I use Europe and the former Soviet Union to state my case against breaking a union.  Europe is a patchwork of small countries; the strongest, Germany, is one that unified.  Yugoslavia, once a powerhouse in southern Europe, run by the cagey Tito, is now seven smaller states.  The UN still has troops in Kosovo, keeping an uneasy peace for the past two decades.  Like Mt. St. Helens, the Balkans will erupt again.

Is Moldova really better off not being a part of Romania?  Perhaps. Is it a player on the world stage?  No.  Closer to home, Quebec tried to secede from Canada, fortunately not succeeding, which would have been disastrous to both.  Scotland almost left a three century old union.

The problem the secessionists don’t seem to understand is that there is a lot of work necessary to form another country, even another state.  Two northern counties in California want to become the state of Jefferson.  Their combined population is 50,000, about one-fourteenth the number needed to get a seat in Congress.  Anybody think of that?

Let’s look more closely at the “devil is in the details,” some of which apply to those who want to have a new state:

  • Constitution and governance:  Who writes it, and how is it ratified?  Who gets to vote and why?
  • Currency and how it will be backed: Gold bullion?  Who weighs, who certifies?  Cheating does occur; gold plating is easy to do.  Don’t laugh; Arizona has passed bills twice (fortunately vetoed) allowing for gold and silver to be used as legal tender, despite the hassle (ironically, big government) of having certified scales so that one can buy beer or bullets using Grandma’s earrings.
  • Ah, yes.  Taxes.  What is taxed and how much, who decides, who collects, what are they used for, and who enforces?
  • Defense: You may now follow the part of your beloved Second Amendment that you have ignored, because you will require a militia. By the way, the flag you love so dearly will no longer be yours.  The star will go, too.
  • Trade agreements with America: You may be subject to tariffs.
  • Safety nets, for a significant percentage of older Americans require Social Security as their primary source of income.  Have you thought about that?  Do you boot them out or let them “self deport”?
  • Healthcare delivery and payment.  Do doctors get paid with earrings or chickens? If I were still practicing, I wouldn’t take JSD (Jefferson State Dollars).
  • Payment for public land, which currently belongs to the American people, including folks like me, and I am not willing to sell it at any price.  I have rights, too, or are they now abrogated?
  • Dealing with natural disasters, like fire and severe storms, many of which affect states or areas more likely to favor secession.  Remember, FEMA isn’t coming any more.  Let’s discuss FEMA:  Maybe some think that passin’ the hat at church on Sunday will collect enough singles to pay for rebuilding a town. Good luck.  That is why we have FEMA, at least Mr. Obama’s FEMA 3.0, the one that works.  FEMA 2.0, under Bush, led to “Heck of a job, Brownie.”  Some of the 67 Republicans (no Democrats) who voted against federal aid for Hurricane Sandy rebuilding were themselves from states that received federal aid from natural disasters.  Katrina required 10 days to get an aid package passed; it was two months for Sandy.  Lot of hypocrisy out there.
  • Finally, JUSTICE.  Who arbitrates when two rugged individualists clash about land, roads, weight of gold or silver, taxes, responsibilities?  Who will ensure there is no cheating in the marketplace?  Who arbitrates when somebody is a nuisance, pollutes the land, shoots another, or even carries a firearm into a place where somebody like me doesn’t approve?  Who is right?  Who decides what the supreme law of the land will be?

The small town of Weed, California, in the heart of the state of Jefferson (a large sign stating the name is on the roof of a barn further north on I-5), lost 200 homes in a few hours from the Boles Fire.  Yes, passing the hat got $180K four days later.   They got assistance from Sacramento and the Red Cross. This won’t happen in the New Divided America.  These folks may charge tolls on roads that run through their land, and they may put checkpoints around them.  We in the rest of America will do the same.  Oh, the remaining US will be hurt, I don’t doubt that.  But not as hard as the next Weed, Joplin, New Orleans, or the Central Valley, when the next Cat 4, EF5, or Haines Index 6 + a cigarette tossed out a car window occurs.

Finally, I return to the basic tenet of the United States of America.  Secession to me has a simple one word synonym:  TREASON.  When I peaceably protested the Vietnam War 45 years ago, I was called a traitor for exercising my First Amendment rights.  Bumper stickers said, “Support the President”, then Mr. Nixon, under whom “a secret plan to end the war” caused 28,000 additional Americans to die. Other bumper stickers said, “America, Love it or Leave.”

We’ve come full circle, folks.  Support the President, and if you don’t like America, then you may freely leave.  But you don’t get to freely take your piece of America with you.  Nope.  You may try Moldova, Albania, or Turkmenistan, since European countries are socialistic, and 2000 languages are spoken on the African continent, along with Ebola and malaria.  You certainly don’t want anything to do with Spanish.  Maybe the Aussies or the Kiwis will take you. Or not.

Much as I don’t like you or want to be around you, I’d rather you stay, and a unified country.

LOOK HOW WE TURNED OUT

October 3, 2014

The other day, I saw this picture followed by a lot of negative comments about American education, including, “We didn’t do this and we turned out good (sic).” (it should be well, an adverb modifying “turned out”, and exactly how well did you turn out?)

What do you think?

IMG_2971

I looked at the picture and commented this is how I do mental subtraction.  A different example:  What is 427-78?  Can you do that mentally by “borrowing”? Perhaps, but with difficulty.   Here is how the above would work: They begin with the premise that subtraction is the difference between one number and another.  To get from 78 to 427, one adds 2 to get to 80, 20 more to get to 100 (22 so far), 300 more to get to 400 (322 so far) and 27 more to get to 427 (349, the answer).  I do that mentally.  I follow a basic mathematical principle:  I TURN ONE PROBLEM INTO SEVERAL SIMPLER PROBLEMS.  It is easier to add than to subtract.  I happen to go from 78 to 100 directly (22), add 327 (349) and am done.

If I do it mentally, I may also subtract 100 from 427 and add back 22.  I can subtract 78 by subtracting 100 (easy) and adding 22 (easy).

The other part of the complaint was that this is how children are learning subtraction.  Yes, but this is the “counting up method,” not the only way to subtract.  I suspect there are other methods taught.  Some children might want to use the borrowing approach; others might want to use the counting up method.  The fact I do it mentally by counting up suggests perhaps my way is easier.  It wasn’t taught back then.

I was disturbed by a comment that said, “I just want my kid to be on a horse and learn his ‘ABC’s’ .”  That isn’t going to cut it in the 21st century.  Math is everywhere; failure to understand math and science, where math is used extensively, will destroy the competitiveness of this country faster than illegal immigration, jihads, and even overpopulation, itself a math issue.  Want to ride the range?  You need to know cost of fencing and feed, cattle price per pound, per cent loss of herd, weather forecast interpretation, taxes, and transportation costs.

The doubling time for money/debt is 72/rate of interest in per cent.  This is a basic rule that everybody should know, but few do.  Borrow money on a credit card?  Invest the money you make ranching?  Need math.*

I could continue with dozens of examples of what needs to be learned by many who weighed in negatively on the above.  We need students to have an open mind and be good critical thinkers.  Most of the comments were poorly written by native speakers.  Good writing matters in the 21st century, as it always has.  Children need to learn how to write and the ability to discern the validity of information on the Internet.  Anecdotes, photoshopped pictures, astrology, and weird notions about the body abound.  California’s water crisis?  Blame it on the silver smelt, rather than poor conservation, limited rainwater harvesting, growing crops where they shouldn’t be grown, climate change, lack of water meters, not making fixing leaks a priority, allowing golf courses in the desert, 30 minute showers, brushing teeth with the faucet on, and not charging what water is truly worth.

Pray for rain?  That is silly.

A problem is I have just used 49 words to summarize, and not completely, the water crisis.  I would need several hundred more to give specific facts on water use for Fresno vs. Tucson, what is going on in the Colorado River Basin, and how much water usage occurs for things we want.  People want “the bottom line”; they are busy.  Just tell them “it’s a damn fish,” and it is all over Facebook with ten thousand likes.

Lack of critical thinking means 2-5 word simplistic solutions influence many: “boots on the ground,” “damned liberals,” “tree huggers,” “climate change is a hoax,” “drones will work,” “less government.”  We live in an extremely complex world; the ability to deal with multiple conflicting issues and make sense out of them is desperately needed in society today.  Do we arm rebels who may some day use the arms against us?  Do we understand that Kurdistan may want to be its own nation in return for helping?  Do we understand that carving out Kurdistan will impact at least 5 other nations?  How many Americans even know roughly where Kurdistan is?  Think defeating ISIS is difficult?  What happens if Hong Kong blows up now? The Ukraine and Gaza?  What about Ebola in the US?  How are we going to deal with extreme weather statistically likely to be due to climate change?  Congress ought to be in permanent session, looking for solutions with the president, doing the country’s work.

Unfortunately, it is getting worse.

America is in trouble when in 2014 we still have climate change debates, Bill Nye the Science Guy is debating the Earth’s age with a creationist, a third of Americans believe in astrology, three-quarters of adults don’t know why we have seasons, 9th graders in one school couldn’t divide 3 into 12 without using a calculator, writing skills have deteriorated, not one high school senior I asked while teaching knew the approximate size of an acre (so how do we teach an acre foot of water?), and a MATH TEACHER could not prove why Celsius=Fahrenheit at minus 40.

I taught English to a 23 year-old woman from Kurdistan, an engineer, who wants my advice whether her government-funded Master’s abroad should be in England or the US.  She is going beyond the ABCs and riding a horse. Europeans are moving ahead on renewable energy; we still are basically stuck on oil.

We will hang on for a while.  We have good universities with a lot of smart, young students in them, and we still have an innovative culture.  Unfortunately, we have tens of millions of students who are not doing well; educational debt and lack of skills will hurt our ability to compete.  Riding the range isn’t going to fund retirement.

I know how to subtract.  I saw immediately what the page showed.  The person who posted it could not, and that disturbed me.  Comments discussing past bad teachers, sympathy that kids today have to learn this awful stuff, and how bad the educational system is speaks to a culture gone awry.  Yes awry.  We are destroying public education then blaming it for failing.  We are creating for-profit charter schools, doing home schooling, where too many parents think they can teach their children or other children, and we disparage science and math, even as the former has allowed me to survive this long to write and the latter has been the foundation of my entire life.

By the way, the tripling time of money is 110/interest rate, 3 strokes on a calculator, although I assume people can divide 8 into 110.  Let’s see: 80 is 10 “8”s, 24 is three more, so 104=13 “8”s.  So it is 13 6/8 years, or 13 3/4 years.  Those who don’t learn math are going to face a world with a lot of locked doors.  Don’t blame me when you retire, poor.  I won’t be around, and it won’t be my fault.  I tried.

How did I turn out?  You decide. I couldn’t compete against the charismatic charlatans who told you what you wanted to hear, rather than what you needed to hear, but that didn’t make me less right.

*The Rule of 72: P=Principal at the end; Po=Principal at the beginning. P=Po exp(rt);  P/Po=exp (rt) and ln(P/Po)=rt.  When P is twice Po, ln (2)=rt; ln 2=0.693.  Change the interest from 0.08 (for example) to 8%, and 69.3=rt.  But 72 is an easier number to use, because it is divisible by so many other numbers, and we use it here.  All one needs to know is that 72/24=3, and the doubling time of credit card debt at 24% interest is 3 years.  The question that concerns me is whether people can divide 24 into 72 in their heads.  They should; it is the number of hours in 3 days.

FOOTBALL MATTERS; WOMEN, MINIMUM WAGE WORKERS, SQUIRRELS NEED NOT APPLY

September 22, 2014

This past week, the current Heisman Trophy winner (football’s best player last season) was seen and heard outside on campus shouting obscenities related to a woman’s anatomy.  This was well documented, as most shocking events are, and he was suspended for the first half of the next football game.

A half game suspension.  You might need him the second half.  Football matters.

There is a code of student conduct at this university, and the spokesman assured the media they would investigate to see if the player’s behavior required greater sanctions.

It did.  Two days prior to the game, the player was suspended for the whole game.  Wow. The coach’s name was not part of the signatures on the suspension document, and he had no comment, the significance of such not clear.

The press reported more:

  • At the news conference following the incident, the player said, “I have to tone it down.”  TONE IT DOWN?  To what?  Using proper medical terms?  This is a man in the public eye; a downside of which is having to control one’s speech and behavior better than the rest of us. If I swear loudly in public, I am told to shut up.  If I continue, I get arrested.  I won’t make the news.  This person is one of the best football players in the country, a role model, yet he feels that outrageous, obscene behavior in public needs only to be “toned down”?
  • While playing baseball for the same university, he was suspended 3 games plus community service after stealing $32.72 of crab legs.  This is theft.  Does the university have sanctions about students who steal?  I noted he didn’t steal a textbook.
  • A student complained he assaulted her in 2012.  The state attorney declined to pursue the case, which is not necessarily wrong.  The location, type, and evidence of the assault may or may not be easily prosecuted, and if you were that woman, would you take on a famous football player in court?  It would require immense courage. The university is reported to be still investigating.  Two years later?  Why the delay?  Until the end of football season?
  • He is under investigation for another 2012 incident where he broke 13 windows in a “BB gun battle”.   How long does it take to decide innocence or guilt and bring justice?  Admittedly, my medical background biases me, because I didn’t have two years to figure out what was wrong with a patient.  Sometimes, I had only two minutes.
  • He was held at gunpoint by campus police for shooting squirrels on campus.  The year wasn’t mentioned, but this behavior is not only sociopathic (shooting squirrels on campus is not equal to hunting deer), but animal abuse, which correlates highly with sociopathy and human abuse, bringing me back to his comments about and behavior towards women.  There is a short step between screaming obscenities and assaulting women. Oh, he did allegedly assault a woman, so that step was likely taken, unless the university finally finishes their investigation.  When does he go from abuse of women, BB gun fights, and shooting squirrels to shooting people?  How much warning does the university need to conclude this man is trouble?
  • A Burger King employee called police because the player stole soda. The media did not mention what happened, but I suspect a minimum wage working person’s comment against a Heisman Trophy winner’s behavior was not going to carry much weight.  Crab legs are more expensive than soda, but theft is theft.
  • The university in question was becoming “less tolerant” towards this person’s behavior.  That is encouraging to know:  apparently in this southern state, there are limits: assault, shooting animals, a BB gun fight, theft on two occasions, breaking windows, and screaming obscenities is enough to decrease tolerance.  My mother’s tolerance for my behavior was making me pay and apologize for stealing a 3 cent fireball when I was 8 and washing my mouth out with soap when I swore.  Yeah, nearly 60 years later, I still remember that.

The student-athlete, since that is what the NCAA calls him, was suspended for one game.  The concern has been raised that such behavior will affect his professional career in football.  Wow.  He’s a sociopath with access to firearms.  My concern is that he will some day injure and perhaps kill a woman, a minimum wage worker, companion animals or have his name on another US shooting rampage, and everybody will wonder how this could have happened.  I won’t. I will know that the university considered football; money from it and alumni donors were more important than dealing with an armed sociopath, and I say that term as a 1982 diplomate of the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology.

As a neurologist, I have issues with football:  it damages the brain, but people love the game.  There is a tremendous amount of money involved, none goes to the “student athletes” or to scholarships, other than athletic ones.   Far too many alumni still have their lives revolve around the team’s record.  It was sad in Friday Night Lights that many who played high school football felt that was the high point in their lives.

I believe compensation for football-related brain injuries was overdue, if not overdone.  However, I believe if the game is not changed, those who now play it are voluntarily choosing to do something dangerous. I don’t feel I should be taxed to pay for their medical care, should it be related to multiple concussions. Let the NFL, the highly paid players, or the coaches pay.

I admit it: I believe those who make millions playing with a ball should be taxed at a higher rate than the rest of us. I am not jealous.  I live comfortably on far less.  I don’t believe “He who dies with the most toys wins.”  I believe my retirement should be spent volunteering in my community.  America is the land of opportunity, not outright greed and outrageous behavior by stars and willingness by many to buy their apparel, pay big bucks to see games, pay coaches in the glory sports 6,7, or 8 figures, yet pay assistant coaches in other sports (track and field, for example) $20-$40 K.

Let the market decide?  NO.  The markets have not been shown to self-regulate, any more than physicians or any other group.  If we self-regulated ourselves, there would be no litter on the roads, limitation on campaign donations, and those who pass on the right and cut in front of you, when the right lane is closed ahead, would not exist.  You have seen them, I’m sure.

America is the land of opportunity, not unbridled greed or uncontrollable behavior.  It is an opportunity for the university to stand up for what is right, regardless of the cost. Justice for all?  Yes, for those who were harmed by the player’s words and actions, and for those who will be spared harm by removing him from the society until or unless he shows his remorse through appropriate actions.

You see, I don’t listen to what people say.  I watch their feet.

“DEAD AIR” vs. A SINGLE SQUARE INCH: SILENCE

September 20, 2014

Maxwell Butte is a 5 mile hike into the Jefferson Wilderness, climbing 2500 vertical feet to the top, just over 6200 feet.  From the Butte, one can see the high Cascades from Mt. Hood to Broken Top.  On a clear day, one might see Diamond Peak, too.  It is a steady climb, and good trail work by the Obsidian Hiking Club, of which I am a member, has made the big gouge in much of the trail a resting place for downed trees, in an effort to stem erosion.

The best part of the hike came when I least expected it.  That usually happens.  It did not come when I reached the top, nor did it come when I had a great view of Three-fingered Jack right in front of me.  It wasn’t the fact that I was alone, but that was getting close.  It had been windy all the way up, but as I came down, the wind subsided.  Completely.

THREE-FINGERED JACK

THREE-FINGERED JACK

Outside the wilderness, in deep forest, Douglas firs dominant, with a few Silver Firs,  I was still alone.  But, I now, I appreciated something that I had not yet experienced on this hike.

SILENCE.

I mean QUIET.  NO NOISE.

There wasn’t any wind, no sound from a bird, a squirrel, a car, another person, or a plane overhead.  There was NO SOUND.  My ears rang, it was so quiet.

I know my hearing is gradually worsening.  But the silence was not due to my hearing problems.  There was no sound, and in America today, that is a rarity.  True, one can be in a sound-proofed room or wear sound canceling headphones, but silence in the wilderness is special, for there usually is some noise in the woods.  I’ve experienced total silence in the Grand Canyon, the Boundary Waters, and the Brooks Range.  Usually, the lack of sound has come at night, but on the Maxwell Butte trail, it was in daylight.

I sat there and listened….TO NOTHING…and thought, because without sound one starts to think…..about the Silver Fir near me, the name of which I learned only the prior week on Lowder Mountain.  I thought about the soil beneath me, the beauty of the trees, hundreds of years old, the fact that I was here, had trod these woods, and nobody was near me.  I reveled in my good fortune: SILENCE, NO NOISE.

I didn’t think of the dropped cup in the coffee shop earlier that week, where the acoustics made the noise hurt.  Or how somebody moved a cart by me as if they wanted to make as much noise as possible, as often seems the case today.

I enjoy music, but there are times I don’t want to hear it.  I don’t want to hear ANYTHING, not a beep with more information that often clutters my life.  To be outdoors in silence, away from people, is special beyond words. I believe, albeit without proof, that people need this sort of silence, yet we have countered with a barrage of sound, believing constant information is what everybody needs.  It isn’t. Multi-tasking is overload.  Many of our schedules are overloaded.  I believe there is harm from the constant beeping of messages, many unimportant, programmed voices in a car, sports announcers that feel they have to keep talking, or 24 hour a day television, where “dead air” is something to  be avoided and filled with comments, whether valuable or garbage.  Why can’t we shut up for a few minutes?

A man was once separated from a tour  group in Mammoth Cave, Kentucky.  He was found 36 hours later, alive and relieved.  In the cave, there is not one lumen of light.  If the cave is dry, there is no noise at all.  The man said what bothered him the most was the silence.  He cracked rocks together to make noise.  Darkness was a problem, but silence was difficult.   I don’t know if I would feel the same way, but I do label wilderness, total silence, and totally dark skies the “outdoor triad.”  We live less fulfilling lives, I believe, because many people never experience one of these three, let alone all of them together.

Mammoth Cave, Kentucky

Mammoth Cave, Kentucky

Light pollution has been a problem for years, affecting nature and man in nature, too.  We have lost our night sky heritage; the National Parks are trying to deal with light pollution.  Sound pollution is more insidious.  Europe doesn’t have places like the Olympic Peninsula, where the One Square Inch Project is occurring.  Excessive sound damages our hearing.  This is a fact.  It hurts other animals.  That is a fact, too.  It isn’t good for us, and the damage it does to our thinking, the believed necessity to process more information, which I don’t think healthy, is poorly recognized and the consequences not completely understood.

Eventually, a high flying jet broke the spell that I was in.  Jet engines at any altitude can be heard on the ground.

I will eventually live in a silent world, should I remove the hearing aids I will some day need to wear.  What I want now is to periodically spend time in places where there is silence, where no sound is transmitted to my cochleae.

I don’t know why at that particular moment I decided to sit on the log.  Perhaps silence ironically called me.

 

View from the log.  SILENT

View from the log. SILENT

http://www.utne.com/mind-and-body/search-for-silence-quiet-art.aspx?PageId=7#ArticleContent

WULIK PEAK BACKPACK, 2014

September 8, 2014

The Wulik Peaks area of Alaska is separate and west from the Brooks Range  and lower, not rising much above 3600 feet (1100 meters), compared to twice that in the central Brooks and nearly thrice at the highest peak.  I hadn’t even heard of the Wuliks before this year, but when one Alaska trip to the Refuge (Arctic National Wildlife Refuge) didn’t pan out, I discovered this trip, a part of the Brooks I had never seen, and one that immediately intrigued me.   Wilderness I haven’t seen intrigues me.

The advantage of living in Oregon meant that I could get there in a day, arriving in the evening, and leave on the trip the following morning, which I hadn’t been able to do on my five previous trips to the Brooks.  I did so, met the 5 other people who would be along, representing England, Germany, and the states of New Jersey and Alaska, as well as mine.  Our guide was finishing a trip in the Wuliks, and we would fly in to meet him the next day.

I had dinner with the Englishman that night, and the next morning, we all flew into the Wuliks in two planes.  It was a smooth trip, over the Noatak Delta, inland, and landing on a slight uphill rocky strip.  The planes left, and it was quiet.  There are not a lot of birds in the Brooks, especially in mid-August, and it is a very quiet place.

Noatak Delta in the morning.

Noatak Delta in the morning.

 

Landing spot.

Landing spot.

The guide gave us instructions on bear spray and dealing with bears, and we hiked as a group.  We covered about 5 miles the first day, typical for Alaska, camping where two creeks joined.  We would stay there two nights, doing a day hike the next day.  Hiking up here was much easier than I had been used to: we were often on caribou trails, and while caribou go places I don’t want to tread, their trails are a very useful highway.  The grass was low, dry, and the creeks and streams, all having a good amount of flowing water, were not difficult to ford.  I stayed dry, and I would have dry feet the whole time we were out there, which I never would have expected in the Brooks; it had never happened in the 50+ days I had hiked in five different parts.

The second day, we climbed in fog to the top of a mountain nearby, gaining about 1100 feet (340 meters) and having lunch in the shelter of a rocky area.  We returned to camp and then crossed the river and climbed up into another area, not as high, but with a view back to the north.  The nights were cool but not cold; heavy cloud cover limited radiational cooling, but the high humidity plus any wind made one cold.

Bear, from 800 meters. He was the only one we would see.

Bear, from 800 meters. He was the only one we would see.

People reaching summit of unnamed mountain.

People reaching summit of unnamed mountain.

Wheatear

Wheatear

The third day was the only day we saw sun, as we headed up to a divide between two streams, climbing about 700 feet (210 meters) and descending almost as much.  We set up camp on a bluff a little above a stream and then day hiked into the mountains, doing a loop that at one point reached a narrow edge with a scree slope with large rocks at a 45 degree angle.  I did not want to go on, but I allowed myself to be talked into it, crossing without incident.  That was my only regret on the trip: we had “group think,” and had I turned around, somebody would have gone with me.  The fact I could negotiate the area without incident did not make it safe, something I refer to as “Challenger thinking,”  after the 1986 disaster, which had plenty of prior warnings, but since nothing bad had happened, the warnings were not heeded.

Forget-me-not

Forget-me-not

Author on a plateau at 1800 feet (550 m)

Author on a plateau at 1800 feet (550 m)

The vastness of the Alaska mountains above the Arctic Circle

The vastness of the Alaska mountains above the Arctic Circle

 

We then hiked downstream to where the West Fork of the Wulik River widened and camped, climbing another 1000 foot peak nearby, without the issues of the prior day.  The fifth day, we went up another stream, through the fog, across many side channels, where there was a steep drop on uneven ground to the stream bed, followed by an equally steep climb out.  After crossing a divide between two watersheds, we camped in what was later called “rain camp,” for the moisture appeared to funnel through the mountains and turn into rain here, but not in adjacent valleys.  Indeed, as I would later learn, there was moisture funneling into the Wuliks, but the surrounding area outside the mountains was relatively dry.

West fork of Wulik River.

West fork of Wulik River.

 

View from unnamed mountain.

View from unnamed mountain.

Water slowly moving down a stream bed.

Water slowly moving down a stream bed.

It was a short walk from rain camp to where we were to be picked up.  We could see the stream beds, previously dry, start to flow, the water moving downstream about 1 meter a minute, slowly, but steadily.  Whether the water, and the few fish present, would reach the main river, was not clear.  With more rain, the water would make it, and the fish survive; if not, they would die.

We camped our final night in a foggy valley, where we could clearly see the moisture funneling into the area from which we had come.  We were mostly dry.  I had hoped that on the flight back, we would fly over the coast and see the musk ox, that were clearly there.  That didn’t happen, but when we landed, I spoke to the pilot, who agreed to take me and one of the people on the trip out off Cape Kreusenstern where we could see them.

And so a high point of the trip came, not in the mountains, but at sea level.  I asked for what I really wanted, and the answer was yes.

 

Flying over a herd of musk ox.

Flying over a herd of musk ox.

Pair of musk oxen

Pair of musk oxen

 

Head on from 400 meters.

Head on from 400 meters.

 

Much larger than I had anticipated.

Much larger than I had anticipated.