Urgggh choices

It's that time of year again! That period of midwinter restlessness and desire to see the days grow longer again. When you've exhausted the snowshoeing/skiing options (or the snow just doesn't want to cooperate).

Ha. I wish.

For us wildlifers, it's also job season. I am applying and interviewing for summer seasonal work, which means my head is already way past spring semester. Considering I have 18 credits' worth of class to get through, that could be problematic.

Summatime!! And animals yeah!!

Last year, I already knew by February that I was going to be spending my summer in Barrow. It provided a welcome incentive to get through the drudge of spring semester. However, last year the choice was simple. I received few offers (due to it being a terrible, terrible year for federally funded projects), and of those offers, Alaska was the only real option because of timing conflict. (Note: I had zero problem with this).

This year the game has changed. There are actual projects to choose from. I also have an aim--if possible, I'd like to start working with bats. I've never before had an interest in a particular species, so I am excited to see where it goes.

It probably goes into some large, dark hole.

Someday it's going to exasperate me, but for now, I am enjoying the fleeting nature of wildlife work. I don't want to be trapped in one place or one career. I want to travel around, see new places and meet new people every few months. I love Missoula--this place has become my home while going to school here.

Beautiful from so many angles.

After just three years, Missoula is already full of memories. I complain about college a lot because there are a lot of problems with the system, but it has been very good for me. I came to UM a nervous, naive 18-year-old. I kept my head down through public school in conservative, rural Montana. I was so busy trying not to stand out that I never questioned what I actually liked.

Except motorcycles. Motorcycles always win.

Three years ago, I'd never been rock climbing, kayaking, caving, or even backpacking. I hadn't hiked hundreds of miles in the backcountry or swam in icy mountain lakes, or run in Arctic races.

Or played with baby caribou in the mist.

 It's amazing how easily I can take all that for granted. I get fed up with long days of school and work and little sleep, but the truth is, it's already been worth it. I am incredibly graced with everything I have found here. Kind, welcoming people, unique experiences, maybe even a tiny bit of self-confidence that I didn't have before.

In other words, I need to suck it up, quit complaining, and get ready to work my ass off this semester. Summer will come, and hopefully some sort of paid employment with it.

Stay weird, lovely Missoula.

--Ellen Marie

Caving with the Stars

When you are jumping into something new, it's often hard to figure out just where to start. Even with outdoor adventure hobbies, it is a little intimidating--everyone seems to know what they're doing already. Why should they want to put up with some newbie?

After my last caving failure I figured it was time to draw on the help of caving experts. I got in touch with some Montana cavers who turned out to be friendly and welcoming. Go figure--as it turns out, sending a few inquiring emails around never hurts anything. Actually, that's the only way I've gotten anywhere in life so far. Sounding somewhat literate and reasonable in an email should be a college class, because I'm pretty sure it's more useful than a degree.

As a result, I back from my job in Alaska no more than eight hours before I was out the door with my caving bag packed, ready for an ice cave in the Pryor Mountains.

Getting personal with some paintbrush in the Pryors.

 I learned a few things from this trip. One: the best possible greeting from a stranger at 6 AM is an offer of sizzling bacon and eggs. Second, cavers are an established but small circle of people who all seem to know one another, so try not to screw up too badly.

 Like any other tight group, they are friendly but cautious of outsiders who don't understand. Some well-known people were there leading the caving party. They were legitimate cave explorers and mappers, whose names I had seen before in my cave research. And they kindly but firmly tossed me and another newbie friend I'd convinced to come along ("it'll be fun! no pressure!") into the lion's den.

Where my friend was promptly eaten.

I was a bit nervous about this trip being like a test, and I was right. We were led through a jumble of tight squeezes, short climbs and shallow drops--a cave obstacle course. At various points they asked us which direction the way back was--fortunately, it seemed more a pass or fail exam, and was not graded by percentage (whoops).

The cave was a great start to learning the art of the cave and the caver.

And looking at some cool shit.

Having your future depend on a first impression is unnerving.  I can't tell you that my performance was anything spectacular (it wasn't), but maybe my eagerness showed through anyway, because one of the leaders of the trip (I'll call him The Hammer) invited me to future caves in the fall.

Since then, I've been on a second trip with the Hammer, this time a training trip for a high school club learning to ascend vertical caves.  Everyone was welcoming, and seemed like my kinda people.

Alright--maybe there is room for one more new caver.

The takeaway from all this, I suppose: get out there and get to know people. Try something. It might not work out--it could be an embarrassing failure.

Into the Hole of Shame!

  But even if it is, at least you will have a story to tell (or not tell, at your own discretion. . . )

If you want to get involved with something, shoot an email somewhere. Nothing might happen, or something might.

Keep on cavin' on.