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October 30, 2007
Non, je ne regrette rien.
This blog is 2 years old! Thank you to my faithful readers (And, oh, how I love each of you!) who make building this blog and participating in the online blogging community so worthwhile! Readers, there are many more of you than who regularly comment; please feel free to stop by and say hello at the end of this entry!
By now, I'm sure you all understand that this is a blog about adventure. And, by now, I'm sure you all also understand that I am a human being who thrives upon adventure. I love to run, to otherwise play outdoors, and to travel where my heart desires.
I cannot pinpoint where or when it originated, but I know I can thank my father and mother for instilling in my soul the value of adventure at a very young age. I can vividly recall views of the western United States passing by the backseat window of the family station wagon on road trips. I can picture myself standing on and fishing from the bow (Yes, Mom, when you weren't there, Dad would let me stand on the bow of the boat.) of "Half Hour," our family's small fishing boat, while my dad trolled the boat across some unknown northern Minnesota lake. I can conjure up memories of camping in our family's tiny and patriotically decorated red, white, and blue pop-up trailer, sometimes as close to home as our backyard.
I may not be as adventurous as some people out there. I don't ski from the summit of Mount Everest. I don't use ice axes to scale frozen waterfalls. I don't don a full suit of safety gear and ride a mountain bike downhill at 40 miles per hour. And, I'm alright with all of that. In my own way, according to my own methods, I adventure through life.
For the last several years, Yellowstone National Park has been my home, and one of my main sources for adventure. Thus, it's fitting, on this blog birthday, to also celebrate Yellowstone. Below you'll find some photos and some quotes that summarize what this blog (and what I) am all about. Finally, how could I forget: Non, je ne regrette rien.
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.
T. S. Eliot
This yearling moose cautiously watched my friend and I hike by this backcountry creek near Elk Tongue Cabin on a warm spring day in 2006.
People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the seas, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass by themselves without wondering.
St. Augustine
It's a fat one, isn't it? This marmot thoughtfully posed during the summer of 2005 next to its home, a small drainage pipe underneath the dirt road leading to the summit of Mount Washburn.
Not all those who wander are lost.
J.R.R. Tolkien
Another rodent photo (this time of a ground squirrel) taken in near Lake Yellowstone in 2005.
Adventure is not outside man; it is within.
David Grayson
I looked out my window one warm summer day in 2005 to see a bull snake sunning itself on the sidewalk. They are also known as gopher getters, for reasons I shouldn't have to explain.
Life is either a daring adventure or it is nothing.
Helen Keller
The winter of 2006 yielded this photo of a bighorn sheep ram in the Gardiner River Canyon, just a few miles from my house.
Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body - but rather a skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, ‘WOW, what a ride!'
Anonymous
Freshly born baby elk frolic in my yard during the earliest days of summer, 2005. Minutes after this shot, they were licking the fire hydrant. Ew.
One final paragraph of advice: Do not burn yourself out. Be as I am – a reluctant enthusiast... a part time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it is still there. So get out there and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains. Run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to your body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much: I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those deskbound people with their hearts in a safe deposit box and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this: you will outlive the bastards.
Edward Abbey
Posted by Meghan at 8:26 AM | Comments (18)
October 29, 2007
This Is Now
According to my running log, on November 2nd, 2006, I ran the Old Gardiner Road from Mammoth to the "turnaround rock" and back in 1:13. This run is 8 miles via a winding dirt road; it begins with a 4 mile, 1300 foot descent, and it ends by climbing back up the same distance and elevation. I marked that run as "hilly and easy."
This route has, through the years, become a fitness gauge for me. How good I feel during the run, how smooth my legs feel on the descent, how easy the climbing is, and my time out on this course all yield data about my current fitness level. Also, I've begun using this road for a hill workout. Most frequently, I'll glide the downhill and push the uphill.
I did this same route today, October 29th, 2007. Tonight I'll mark the following in my running log: "32 minutes gliding downhill, 41 minutes pushing uphill." I'll even do the math for you; that's 1:13 for this route while working pretty hard.
Do I need to remind you that almost 1 year ago I ran this route in 1:13 and called it "hilly and easy?" I guess that was then, and this is now. I'm almost upset about this, but not quite. The reason I'm not upset is because I've recently been making good progress with this route. I'm not too embarrassed to say that it wasn't too long ago that I was over the 1:20 mark for this route. But that was also then, and this is now.
Posted by Meghan at 6:45 PM | Comments (4)
October 28, 2007
Elk Current Events
In the latest days, the bull elk have completely disappeared from Mammoth Hot Springs. They have headed for the hills, where they will spend the last days of fall furiously consuming grass, trying to recover from the great caloric expenditure that is the elk rut. When the snow finally covers their food sources, the bulls will congregate in small groups for the winter. It is remarkable that bull elk live amicably together for 9 months out of the year when, during the rut, they endlessly fight over cows (As you know, I've previously documented their rutting behaviors in this blog. Their fighting has been so furious that one bull elk mortally wounded another in a Discovery Channel-worthy fight in a neighboring yard several weeks ago.). However, during the winter, bull elk protect themselves by living in small groups as they are at risk of predation by wolves.
The cow and calf elk remain in the neighborhood. These local cow and calf elk typically live in separate herds of 20-30 individuals. During the rut season, bull elk create and manage these herds (Sometimes right outside my window!). When the cows aren't in heat, and the bulls aren't running around crazy-like and testosterone-infused, I'm not quite sure how the cow and calf elk arrange themselves. Are the herds a completely random assortment of cows and their calves? Do cows and calves of similar lineages congregate?
I don't really know for sure, but it seems like the local cow and calf elk herds are more relaxed now that the bulls have left town. In the last several days, the cows and calves have been lazing peacefully about my yard, sitting, grazing, and even napping.
This cow elk was hanging out so close to my house that I didn't need to use my camera's zoom feature to capture this photo. You can tell that this elk had been laying in this same spot for quite some time, as a leaf has fallen on its back!
Here's the same cow elk, caught in the middle of an afternoon nap. This is just one of the many elk that were laying in my yard that afternoon.
Several nights ago, while driving around Mammoth, I encountered maybe all of Mammoth's cow and calf elk congregated together in a mass of perhaps 300 individuals. They were standing and sitting everywhere, all over the grass, in the roads, in the parking lot, and right next to buildings. I was amazed and astounded, and I couldn't help wonder how many pounds of elk poo they were going to leave overnight in this particular place. And, I couldn't help but notice that the herd atmosphere seemed somewhat uneasy. The cows and calves darted aimlessly around, casting suspicious glances at what seemed like nothing.
A few minutes later, I remarked with a a night shift work colleague, "Why on earth would so many different herds join together?" Her answer was simple, "The wolves are in town. There is safety in numbers." With that, I threw open the door to our office and listened. Sure enough, just minutes later, under a huge full moon in a midnight sky, two wolves howled back and forth with each other. In those same moments, a calf elk squeaked an endearing request for either milk or protection from its mother. Chills spilled down my spine as I listened to the food chain pecking order call out their ranks in the night.
I don't know what happened under the cover of darkness, but normalcy was restored by the next day, and the cows and calves returned for more lounging in my yard.
Added 10/29, 10 am: Young bull elk live within the cow and calf herds for the first several years of their life. At this point in their development, they are too small to survive without the protection of a herd. During the rut, these young bulls skulk around trying to remain unnoticed by the big bulls. Once the rut is over and the big bulls leave town, they safely spend time within the cow and calf herds.
Just a few hours after I published this blog entry yesterday evening, I woke up to some strange noises just outside my bedroom window. I peered out into the night, which was lit brightly by a waning moon, to see two young bull elk dueling with each other. These bulls were probably between 3 and 6 years of age, and they were "play fighting," or practicing the adult rutting behaviors. One young bull was actually squeaking as he sparred, mixing both adult and juvenile actions into the same moments. It was 1 am, but I watched the "play fight" go on for quite some time before going back to sleep.
Then, at about 8 am, I woke up to hear the bugling of an adult bull elk as he walked past my house. It has been all quiet here in the bugling department for days, but I imagine this bull was attracted back into town because of last night's "play fighting" between the two young bulls. I watched and drank coffee as the big bull successfully sought out each of the 2 young bulls and pushed them around with his antlers, as if to say, "Easy kids, this is my town."
A short time later, 3 more young bulls, seemingly oblivious to the big bull's local presence, began a series of "play fights." They went at it happily as the big bull sauntered over. As soon as the young bulls discovered the big bull's presence, they dispersed.
Here are the 3 young bulls, with 2 of them "play fighting," just before the big bull broke up the party. You might notice that one of the bulls has an orange ear tag. This elk was involved in an earlier "incident" with a fence. This elk got its antlers stuck in a fence and it had to be tranquilized in order to be removed.
Posted by Meghan at 10:03 PM | Comments (4)
October 26, 2007
A Perfect Day Of Running
Can you picture this?
On this late October day, it's a surprising 68 degrees Fahrenheit. It's also miraculously sunny with the most gentle of breezes. By the weather, you would never guess that the aspen and cottonwood leaves have long since dropped to the ground. Or that the snow has come and gone, and come and gone again.
The trail is narrow, windy, and perfectly rolling. In some places, the trail contours precariously along steep, open hillsides. From such places, the view is spectacular, but you don't dare take your eyes off the ground. In other places, the trail dives into dense stands of trees. As you run, the trees pass by you in an alarming blur of late fall browns, and your feet land on soft layers of fallen leaves.
Your company is pleasantly chatty and perfectly paced. The pace is pushed just enough that uninterrupted conversation isn't possible. Instead, phrases and sentences come in rushed but highly enjoyable and entertaining spurts. You can hear her footfalls behind you, sometimes short stutter steps down steep trail bits, at other times matched exactly to your stride on the flat, straight portions of the trail. And, you can hear her breathing, mostly with deep, strong, fluid exhalations.
Your body and mind are able and willing. Your mind wants to charge uphill, and your body follows in perfect succession. Your legs move nimbly and your feet plant strongly, yielding mental confidence.
Just 1 perfect hour on the trail, just 7 perfect miles of running, that's all it takes.
Posted by Meghan at 2:40 PM | Comments (5)
October 25, 2007
Food For Thought
My sweetie took this photo of me descending from the higher reaches of Mount Holmes about a month ago. The elevation here is about 10,000 feet, and, although it was outstandingly beautiful, it was also bitterly windy. I clearly had my eye on the prize, the warmer weather below!
The pun created by the title above and the poem below is intended, yes it is.
As you travel down life's pathway,
may this ever be your goal:
Keep your eye upon the doughnut,
and not upon the hole!
-Author Unknown
This poem comes off as definitely silly and a tiny bit trite, but I still thought I would share it. This was quoted in a book I was recently reading, and it has stuck with me since then. It can have specific reference to running, but it also references the challenges of the rest of our lives. In running, I think the poem is telling us to set our views on the bigger picture or prize, and not on the little day-to-day battles.
Posted by Meghan at 9:40 AM | Comments (5)
October 22, 2007
Third Place...
...at the Montana State Cross Country Championship. And, two of my runners earned individual honors. Not too shabby, eh?
We knew anything from first through fourth place was within the realm of possible last weekend. However, not quite everything came together the way it needed to, and so we finished third. When one's expectations are set high, even third place feels somewhat bittersweet. I still feel quite proud, and I suspect that feeling will continue to evolve as time goes by. Most of these kids poured their hearts into the race and the season, and a couple boys stepped up and took big, aggressive risks for the team's goals, so I'm hoping that they also feel pride. They'll be carrying a big piece of hardware into school this morning, so perhaps that will help them feel good about their accomplishments.
As the team cross country book gets closed, a few other running books get opened. Next month, one of my junior high runners will attempt to qualify regionally for a national cross country competition. She's a regional shoo-in, as she's undefeated among female competitors in Montana, and she routinely beats all the boys during junior high races. I look forward to helping her with this journey.
I'm also reopening the book on my own running. In the last few months, I've done a little bit of decent running. Just a little bit, I should reiterate. I'm ready to move a lot further and a lot faster with some good quality training. Starting today. Like right now. I better go run.
And, finally, I'm going to reopen the book on my little piece of the blogging world. I've been a negligent reader and writer lately. And, since I enjoy this little hobby, I've kind of missed it. Next up on this blog, photos I took today I took of a cow elk about 10 feet from my door.
PS. This blog will turn 2 years old next week. Stay tuned for a party that day!
Posted by Meghan at 5:10 AM | Comments (9)
October 16, 2007
Static Peak, Just Barely
It’s hardly possible to imagine that, after Yellowstone’s raging snowstorm last week, it would be possible to do any exploring at any elevation in any proximal area without winter gear. However, on Sunday, my sweetie and I, dressed in little more than skimpy running clothes and shoes, turned a blind eye to the accumulated snow and climbed to the summit of Static Peak (11,303 feet) in the Teton Mountains. We made it, but just barely (I may or may not be exaggerating a bit with this statement, but I’ll let you be the judge.).
The trail to Static Peak begins at the Death Canyon Trailhead (6800 feet elevation), inside of Grand Teton National Park. It was a gorgeous day, perhaps 60 degrees Fahrenheit and flawlessly sunny. The weather was so beautiful that, at the trailhead, a random toddler was running around without pants (A fatherly figure was also present, and, happily, he was fully clothed.). It’s still unclear exactly why the little fella’ was running about all nekkid-like, but it was rather funny.
I was, again, struck with the issue of how to handle all of my clothing needs, since it was momentarily quite warm, yet we were going to be climbing above 11,000 feet elevation. I settled on wearing capri-length tights and a long sleeve technical shirt. I brought a hat, gloves, a fleece, and a small, packable down jacket with me, and I was grateful for each piece of clothing on the mountain!
The trail begins with a 1 or so mile, 400 foot ascent over the geologically way-old moraine at the mouth of Death Canyon. This moraine blocks drainage from Death Canyon and forms Phelps Lake. The overlook at the top of the moraine (7200 feet elevation) was obscenely spectacular, and I’m sharing with you in the below photo. 
I would have been happy to stay at the overlook, eating trail mix under a warm sun, but my sweetie insisted that we continue up the canyon. So, onward it was! Next, we descended the 400 foot tall moraine to Phelps Lake and then we started climbing into Death Canyon. The mouth of Death Canyon can be seen in this photo.
The name Death Canyon has a rather ominous ring to it, but the canyon was nothing but alive, vibrant, and really tall. By this time in the season, the wildflowers were long gone, but the aspens were perfectly yellow. After climbing about 1000 feet, we arrived at the Death Canyon Patrol Cabin (about 7800 feet elevation). Today, the cabin is used by Grand Teton National Park’s rangers for, you know, patrol. It was built ages ago by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) for a place to stay while they built trail in the Teton Mountains. I was quite enjoying the CCC’s trails so far!
Just after the patrol cabin, two paths diverged in a spooky coniferous forest. The left fork continued up the gradually climbing Death Canyon and the right fork headed straight for the near-vertical canyon wall (and Static Peak in some distant location ahead). Naturally, we took the more challenging right fork and began an endless switchbacking ascent. Here’s a photo looking back into Death Canyon as we climbed out of it.
We climbed and climbed and climbed (It wasn’t arduous; it was just all uphill.) and got into the first patches of snow at about 9200 feet. At about 9500 feet, we hit an overlook wherein we could gawk into the depths of Jackson Hole to the east. The view included Phelps Lake, which was now quite far below us. It seemed like we were just right there, and I guess that’s because we were. Here’s the view from this overlook.
From here on up, it was just plain snowy. In my Montrail Hardrocks, my feet remained painfully wet and cold for the next few hours. Shortly after the overlook, we came to what appeared to be a pass separating Death Canyon from the next canyon to the north, which I think is called Stewart’s Draw. The view was amazing and the snow somewhat deeper than my ankles. Again, I would have personally been happy to call it a day here. To this point, we had been following 2 sets of footprints through the snow. At the pass, the footprints turned around and went no further. In my reasoning, these 2 hikers decided enough was enough with the snow and headed back down. For some strange reason, though, we continued on.
Just over 1 mile and about 1300 vertical feet up Static Peak’s southeast ridge later, we arrived at Static Peak. I shouldn’t elaborate on the details of this portion of the trail, but I will. The trail wound around the north side of the ridgeline where the snow was deeper and windblown into piles and drifts. Here’s a photo of what I’m calling the scary snow crossing.
My sweetie swears there was a flat trail beneath the snow (which was lying at the angle of repose) and that this was a safe endeavor. I followed him back and forth across this and a few other steep fields of snow, shedding tears the whole way.
However, the view from 11,303 feet was worth the harrowing jaunt through steep snow. From up there, it seemed like you could see the whole world. I think I could almost see my house, some 100 miles away. Here’s a photo looking to the north from the summit of Static Peak.
The foreground mountain on the left is Buck Mountain, which is almost 1000 feet higher than Static Peak. The background mountain on the right is the infamous Grand Teton. Here is another photo looking southeast from the summit, and you can see the trail tracing its way through the snow along the ridgeline.
We could only linger at the summit for a few minutes since we were becoming pressed for daylight, so we began retracing our footsteps back to the trailhead. At first, we stepped carefully, daintily, and slowly through the snow and steeps. Then, when the snow cleared from the trail, we began to run downhill at a steadier pace. Our pace further increased as the daylight continued to wane. We arrived back to Phelps Lake at the bottom of Death Canyon just as it was getting dark. From there, we donned headlamps, ran carefully through the darkness, and hollered loudly for bears.
We arrived back to the trailhead and I felt great. In about 7 hours, we covered what’s advertised as 17 miles and 5000 total feet of elevation gain and subsequent loss (As a side note, I think this route must really be about 20 miles.). I had none of the fatigue/bonking issues from our long run 2 weeks ago, and that’s great news! It was a great run/hike, despite the fact that we just barely made it through some early season snow to Static Peak’s summit.
You probably won’t hear from me again for about a week. I’m amidst a ridiculously busy week, which includes the Montana State Cross Country Championship this weekend. My team could use a little good luck and good thoughts this weekend, if you have any to spare! Thanks in advance!
Posted by Meghan at 12:02 PM | Comments (7)
October 11, 2007
From The Expert's Mouth
I have been doing some reading and writing about Edward Abbey for one of my grad school classes. While I do find his extremist, outlying, ecotagist, anarchist perspectives fascinating and enlightening, I am most attracted to the writing that is exempted from his political and moral slants and just plain about nature. Today I was reminded of my favorite pieces of his writing:
"Benedicto: May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets' towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles and grottos of endless stone, and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs, where deer walk across the white sand beaches, where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags, where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you --- beyond that next turning of the canyon walls."
Edward Abbey
Posted by Meghan at 1:33 AM | Comments (4)
October 8, 2007
Kinda Quiet? Not So Much.
Do you ever feel that you have so much to say, that you don't know where to start? So, instead of saying something, you don't say anything? That's kind of how I feel about my blog right now. My world is spinning at a million miles per hour and I'm trying, trying, trying to keep up. Here are a few notes:
1) With reference to my cross country team, it's gettin' on go time. State is in less than 2 weeks. We have a state championship to defend, but, for a whole slough of just plain silly reasons, we aren't running like champions. The question is whether we will get our proverbial acts together on time, or not. Are we ready for that challenge?
2) There were 2 more grizzly bear mauling/encounters that happened in the last few days on national forest lands in close proximity to where I live. They resulted in 1 dead bear and 1 injured hunter. Without remorse, I will say that I'm sick and tired of hunters getting into it with grizzly bears. It's just plain dumb luck if you go creeping silently (as hunters do) around grizzly bear territory and you don't experience a bear encounter. While I empathize with the people who have lost various pieces of their bodies from fighting with bears, I will not sympathize. It is no one else's fault but their own. Instead, I will sympathize with the bear that died on Saturday, because it was innocently doing what grizzly bears do.
3) Grad school. Ah! Eeks! Stop the madness. I'm swimming in homework, readings, papers, group assignments, and, and, and... And it's wonderful, and interesting, but I'm working so hard to keep up!
4) I'm getting back into my own training. After a relative hiatus in which I was recovering fom my 50 miler and then spending time working on the running of other people, I've been back at it with my own training. Common sense would say that I would wait until after the cross country season ends, but my bones, muscles, connective tissues, and brain were getting restless.
5) Snow. Yellowstone National Park got a tremendous amount of snow earlier this week. Up high, say at 10,000 feet, there is over 2 1/2 feet of snow. That's enough snow that it's not going anywhere until spring. Thus, winter arrived swiftly and we are all scrambling to winterize our worlds in time for Mother Nature.
6) Sigh. This blog entry is stressing me out too much. I'm stopping now.
Posted by Meghan at 8:12 PM | Comments (8)
October 2, 2007
And The Snow Flies
I refuse to notice those small-yet-still-present patches of snow in my yard. I can't see the snow flurries dancing through the air on wind gusts. I won't acknowledge the solid white mountaintops as they occasionally poke through passing cloud banks. I shut my eyes to the outdoor thermometer which reads a balmy 33 degrees Fahrenheit at 11 am. I won't, I won't, I won't (said while simultaneously stomping my feet and pouting my lower lip)!
But my whining is a little beside the point. Winter is arriving whether I whine about it or not.
On Sunday, my sweetie and I did a run/hike to the top of Mount Holmes, a 10,336 foot peak located close to my house. The trail begins at about 7,300 feet elevation. From there, it rolls happily along with little-to-no net elevation gain for a little over 5 miles to a trail intersection. From this trail intersection, it's a bit more than 5 more miles to the mountain's summit, and about 3,000 feet up.
It was only about 50 degrees Fahrenheit, but beautifully sunny, when we began at about mid-day at the trailhead. I wore a long sleeve technical shirt and running tights, and brought along several more layers of clothing. I felt like I was changing my clothing configuration about every 30 minutes during this outing, which is sort of ridiculous, but the conditions kept changing!
We covered the first 5.3-ish miles from the trailhead to the trail intersection in about 1:10. This included a creek crossing on a log which took me approximately all day to accomplish. It took us 2 hours exactly to cover the next segment of the trail, the 5.5-ish mile distance (with a 3,000 foot vertical rise) to the summit. We did a lot of hiking here!
The first fascinating experience we had was encountering 2 dueling bull elk in a 8,500 foot high valley. From quite a distance away, we could hear the sounds of their clashing antlers! Next, at about 9,000 feet, we encountered ice and snow, and we stayed in it all the way to the summit. In places, there were a few inches of snow on the trail.
The top of Mount Holmes was so windy and so cold. There, the ice and snow was attached sideways to different surfaces, as if it had been applied in this same fierce wind. In between bouts of uncontrolled shivering, I tried to look around and appreciate the view. I have played in a lot of the territory below, and it was fun to recognize various land features. We stayed at the top for only for about 10 minutes since the conditions were nearly unbearable. Within 10 minutes, we were 500 vertical feet lower and the conditions immediately abated. Go figure.
It took us about 3:10 to reach the summit, 10 minutes to hang out on top, and 2:40 to return to the trailhead. We should have made it down a lot faster, but with about 5 miles to go, I got so tired! I think I just plain bonked. I was consuming fewer calories than usual, and we were out in some pretty cold weather wherein I suppose our energy requirements were higher.
I was doing a lot of walking intermixed with running, and this slower pace was giving me a chance to take my eyes off the trail and really look around. Good thing, because about 1 mile from the trailhead, I caught of glimpse of a bear butt moseying around in some high grasses a fair distance off the trail. It was a young black bear, and it kept its head down in the grass, never noticing that we were there! It was a fun chance encounter to end the day!
As usual, my sweetie took some pictures (and I didn't bring a camera), so I'll post some if he shares!
Posted by Meghan at 10:40 AM | Comments (5)