Pelican Beak, Kangaroo Pouch, BYOB

Animal Planet TV has a series of short (<1 minute) public broadcasting messages on YouTube on how "Animals Save the Planet." My favorite, so far, is the one on bringing your own bag.

The Un-Shopping Card

I am at a nice pivot point in my career: as I look for employment, I want to stay true to my passion for solid waste, but also recognize that I have a broader commitment to the field we currently refer to as sustainability. It seems like there is a lot of opportunity to blend these interests; it's just a matter of timing.

In a recent web-job-research session, I came across this "Un-Shopping Card" on Clackamas County's Spring 2009 Sustainability Newsletter. I think it's fantastic! Mindful consumption: bring it.

Just to keep sending it out to the airwaves, here is my resume.

Bike to a Mountain; Bike to a Wedding

The last two weekends, Gene and I have built up a good track record for using our tandem as our primary form of transportation, even when it involves mountains and weddings.

The first weekend in July was the 12th annual Watershed Relay. It's this funky event put on by some friends where you race from the summit of Mt. Adams to Hood River. "Race" is a generous term; besides Gardner, the brainchild of this event, and Johnny, his adventurous roommate, everyone else is just psyched to make it through without too many sore muscles. There is no registration fee. There is no support crew, besides what you figure out for yourself. You just stash a whole bunch of gear in bushes along the way so that you can glissade, mountain bike, road bike, kayak, run, and paddle your way through the Mt. Adams watershed and across the Columbia river.

People typically drive up to the base of Mt. Adams. They then use their vehicle(s) to shuttle gear and people down the coarse. Gene and I wanted to try a new approach: using our bike. We started out in White Salmon and strapped our backpack on the back of the tandem.

It was a 5-hour ride up to the south summit parking lot. The last few miles were tough -- the mosquitoes were starting to come out, and the gravel road was really dusty. We asked ourselves, "Why are we doing it this way? Why are we biking when we could have easily carpooled?" We were heartened by the astonished looks of hikers (non-Watershed folks) passing us in their cars. They honked and gave us thumbs ups of encouragement. We also hoped they thought, "Hmmm... I wonder how I could bike up to the base of Mt. Adams for my next climb."

After dinner and a few hours of sleep, we awoke and climbed Mt. Adams in our bike clothes and shoes. (Shimano SPD clips act kind of like crampons, and bike gloves work surprisingly well to brace youself during the glissade downhill. But you can be sure, we got plenty of funny looks from people completely geared up with crampons and ice axes). We met up with the other Watershed folks in time for the 10am descent from the summit. After the descent, we did the single-track mountain bike portion on the tandem. Some friends took our backpack in their car, so we were a little more nimble. Even without a backpack, mountain biking on a tandem is burly. I was nervous a few times, but took deep breaths and put all my trust and confidence in Gene's bike handling abilities. He did great. Back on the road, with gravity and pavement on our side, we flew downhill back to White Salmon. Tired and slightly sore, we fell asleep before sunset. Next year we hope to do the entire Watershed Relay, from Portland, unsupported. We'll see. More pictures and descriptions are here.

Last weekend (July 11-12), we went to our friends' wedding. Scott and Katja were getting married on the flanks of Mt. St. Helens. Only 50 miles from Portland, we figured we'd make a bike trip out of it. Again, we could have easily carpooled with other friends from Portland, but we want to make a go of it. Sure, anything under five miles and 30 lbs of carrying is a done deal (it will be done on bicycle). But a wedding? 50 miles away? Let's try it.

We made it, and gladly pulled into the field where our friends had pitched their tents. We hopped into a bunkhouse for a stealth shower and cleaned up real nice! We perhaps didn't dance as hard as we might have if we had driven in a car, but it was still a good time.

Congratulations Scott and Katja! A little birdie told us you got a tandem as a wedding present, so we are looking forward to some double Dil- car-free adventures.

Retiring the Header; Shift to IKnowTrash.com

My travels have come to a close. I am extraordinarily grateful to the Stevens Fellowship Committee for granting me the opportunity to follow my passion (my trashion!) in Europe and Central America over the past eight months. I saw a lot, learned a ton, and feel confident that I can serve as a trash ambassador for many years to come.

I have put together a professional website (I Know Trash .com). I am currently looking for work in the solid waste industry, so if you know of any opportunities, especially in Portland, OR, send them my way!

I hereby retire this blogspot header. It has served me well.

This space may (or may not) be updated with future pursuits, trash cans, or recycling randomness. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I am at your disposal.

Till next time,
Meredith

Association of Oregon Recycler's Conference, and 113 miles home

After a quick visit to my folks in New Jersey, Gene and I flew out to Redmond, Oregon. I had been invited to speak at the Association of Oregon Recyclers (AOR) 2009 Conference.

We landed at the tiny airport and rolled our bags over to an open space next to the ticket counter (see photo with bike parts sprawled on the floor). An hour-and-a-half later, bike and trailer assembled, we rolled out of the airport on our tandem. We pedaled fast so I could make it to Jerry Powell's talk on Recycling Markets. I felt a little funny showing up sweaty, in my cycling outfit, but the Oregon recycling community is very relaxed and friendly.

My talk on Saturday, June 11 -- the keynote -- went well. Lots of people came up to me and said, "I really liked your speech." I take that as a good sign. The presentation forced me to organize my photos is a meaningful way. Also, even though I get nervous, I do like public speaking because it forces me to synthesize my thoughts. Finally, I used this opportunity to put together a professional website: IKnowTrash.com.

Saturday night was jolly. At the banquet, the Port of Portland received an award for their stellar waste minimization program. That was a proud moment for me because even though I have not worked on that project for a year, I know I was been a key player in its success. This photo is of me, Michael Budds, Mitch Frister, and Shanna Eller, all members of the CES (Community Environmental Services) crew. Stan Jones, who heads up the Port waste minimization and recycling program, should be in the photo but was busy playing in his band. Talented fellow.

After the conference, Gene and I biked 175 miles home to Portland, OR. Our last day was the longest of this trip: 113 miles. Cycling in Oregon in June was such a treat: cool temperatures, moderate grades, beautiful scenery, and long daylight hours. It was still light when we rolled into Portland at 9pm.

Portland has a comprehensive recycling program. Better yet, the community is starting to target waste reduction efforts, as evidenced by this billboard we passed on the way into town. I am scoping out the scene and trying to figure out options that would allow me to work with inspiring individuals on meaningful projects. Send good job thoughts my way.

Costa Rica

We crossed into Costa Rica, the 6th country of our trip, on May 23, 2009. We noticed lots more single occupancy vehicles. We also noticed how little litter there was on the side of the road.

We pedaled down the InterAmericana Highway through the Guanacaste towns of Liberia, Cañas, and Esparza. At that point, we turned south. We wanted to both avoid the traffic of the capital, San José, as well as experience some of the mountains. Everyone we spoke to said we were crazy -- that the hills were extreme and that we should stick to the coast. We figured we would give it a try, and if it really was too hilly, we could just roll back down to the coast.

Hah. Once we got up and over the first hill, we realized there was no return. Our gearing was limited due to some hub issues. Plus we had a fully-loaded trailer with all of our camping supplies, water, and laptop. So, when it got too steep, we got off and pushed up the hills.

It was beautiful, lush country. We benefitted from the simple generosity from so many people that found our story compelling. One man bought us an amazing lunch with delicious fresh pineapple juice. A young man, the owner of a fledgling bakery in a small town, told us our donuts and coffee were on the house when we went up to pay. A third guy, a delivery man that sold snacks to local businesses, handed us doritos and fanta out his window as we leap-frogged through the hills, with us moving slow and him stopping at different shops on the side of the road. He was our snack angel.

We went through Orotina, Santiago de Puriscal, and finally to San Ignacio de Acosta. At that point, we decided we had "experienced" the hills enough. We packed up our bike into the suitcases/trailer and hitchhiked back to the highway, past the Cerro de la Muerte, and down into San Isidro de El General. Between the fog, treacherous curves, and pouring rain, I was quite fine traveling on four wheels through that section.

We reassembled the tandem, climbed up out of the San Isidro valley and dropped down to a sleepy surfing town called Dominical. We then went up the coast to Matapalo where Gene lived 20 years ago, for nine months, with his mom and sister. It was, quite literally, a walk down memory lane.

Surprisingly, not much had changed in Matapalo. Gene remembered the school, the store, and the bridge. A few guest houses and huts had sprung up to cater to the surf scene, but overall it was a sleepy sandy-path, coconut tree oasis. We stayed in Matapalo for two nights, sleeping 50 feet from where Gene's house used to be.

Michel, a lovely man, put us up in his extra cabin (a generous term). We shared meals and swapped stories. Michel taught us how to play dominoes; we helped him fix his roof. We jumped in the warm ocean periodically throughout the day. The beach was stunning.

On our way up the coast, a friend of Michel's invited us to his property, Finca Cascade. We scrambled up the rocks past his 20 waterfalls. Except for the monkeys, we had the place to ourselves. We swam in the bright blue pools.

We then pedaled our last leg up the dirt road to Quepos. That stretch of road is doomed to be "developed": the section between Dominical and Quepos is slated to be paved by September 2009. We saw the trucks, tractors, and asphault operation gearing up. Ahhh, development. What a funny concept.

We packed up the bike and caught a bus into San José. The pedestrian malls through downtown felt European. We managed to connect with new friends and old, which always makes a city more lively. On June 4, 2009, we flew to the USA with our eyes on the horizon.

Granada and Rivas, Nicaragua

Never use FedEx. At least, not if you are in Nicaragua.

FedEx routed our replacement hub to Europe because someone at their hub (heh, lots of hubs) in Memphis thought Nicaragua was in Africa. After three weeks of phone calls and emails between Bike Friday, FedEx, and us, the hub was finally delivered, ironically, by a kid on a mountain bike.

Back on our bike, we headed south through Sebaco. Gene thrilled the local kids with a ride on the back of the bike while I marveled at the amazing veggies in the market. We continued south. Just as it was getting dark, we rolled into a little town where a nice man and his wife let us camp in their sideyard.

People are so friendly and curious when you travel by bike. About 20 people gathered as we unpacked our house (tent), beds (thermarests), and kitchen (stove). That night we got hammered by a rainstorm, but luckily stayed dry in the tent.

The next day, we rolled into Granada. In Granada, a friend of a friend, Bill, graciously showed us around town. Bill is one of those guys that speaks five languages (or more), has lived overseas more than half his life, and knows a whole lot about a range of subjects. Of course, I asked about the trash scene in Granada. Bill said that a German is helping Granada digitize all of their documents and tracking information. Hopefully, with a more robust database, Granada will be able to track who is paying for garbage service and identify inefficiencies in their system.

So much of our experience in a town is driven by the people we meet. Largely owing to our pleasant introduction (via Bill), we were quite smitten by Granada and its charming streets, old churches, and historic buildings. After one day of gringo-land, we were ready to roll south. It was Friday, and I was eager to meet with the City of Rivas' mayor's office.

We pedaled hard and made it to Rivas by 1pm. I quickly showered and walked down to the mayor's office. I had been told by Matagalpa's mayor's office that Rivas had the first sanitary landfill of Nicaragua. Rivas' solid waste guy met my queries with blank stares: "Nope, lady, all we have is a big landfill. You can visit it, if ya like."

So we did. Saturday morning, we rode the tandem out to the dump. Federico, who has worked at the dump for nine years, showed us around. It is a very quiet operation. About 15-20 people glean out materials from the 7-8 truckloads per day. Looking at all of the organic material, I asked if anyone composted. Nope, he said, the only money is in aluminum.

Mounds of plastic bottles and other materials are stored next to houses of the people that work in the dump. Like the rest of the world, they are waiting for the markets to bounce.

We headed south down the Interamerican Highway, and made a quick stop on Lake Nicaragua to look out to Isla de Ometepe, rising out of the choppy waters.

Onward to Costa Rica.