Band on the Run: Best Banyan Companion

by Ember Swift on

Ember Swift, Canadian musician and touring performer, will be keeping us up-to-date on what it’s like to tour a band throughout North America. Having just arrived back from Beijing where she spent three months (check out her “Canadian in Beijing” series), she offers a musician’s perspective on road life. Enjoy!



In this case, is time.

The largest banyan tree I’ve ever seen is in Lahaina, Maui. It is remarkable. It is actually quite breathtaking with its octopus-like branches reaching in every direction and beckoning people to come into its embrace.

I suppose, you could also look at it and imagine it as a giant sea monster with its tentacles reaching in every direction to pull you into its grip.

But, either way, taking the time to take it in is essential. I imagine that’s why there are so many benches placed around its giant base and many offshoot trunks. This is the kind of tree it could take a lifetime to get to know.

And time has been its most interesting companion.

This historic banyan tree is located in the central square on Front Street in Lahaina, Maui in what is known as Banyan Tree Park. It was planted in front of the Old Lahaina Courthouse by William Owen Smith in 1873 and has since sprouted more than a dozen other trees from its offshoots.

I had no idea that banyan trees could do this. They seem to jut out branches horizontally and then drop branches directly vertically like perpendicular afterthoughts. As though the tree realized mid-growth that it would need to support its weighty extensions and so grew downwards like canes for the long arms to rest on.

I couldn’t possibly get this whole tree into my camera lens. I could have sat under a different section of the tree (and it’s all one tree despite looking like several at once!) for an hour or more, seeing different forms and shapes in the branches before moving to a new bench and experiencing new stories and images there.

I did sit for awhile in one section while a family hung out on the other side of a wide branch. The children were bright blonde-headed kids with cute squeaky voices. They were running up and down a lower branch and clearly finding their imaginations sparked by the shapes of these giant wooden arms all around them.

Then, one of the kids noticed all the carvings in a section of the banyan exposed vertical roots. Many people over the years have signed their names in the tree with pocket knives. In my opinion, this is the equivalent to taking a pocket knife to a perfect stranger’s arm and carving your initials in their bicep, so when I see this on trees it just makes me wince. I do believe that trees feel it and that this kind of abuse is intolerable.

One of the kids said, “Daddy, can we sign our names too?” The father didn’t quite know what the kid was referring to until she asked again and then grabbed him by the hand and showed him what she was talking about. He said, “No, honey, we don’t have a knife.” He then turned to his partner and continued talking with her while the kids went back to playing.

My heart sank. I just wanted to hear him say something like “No honey, that’s not kind to the tree. You don’t need to hurt the tree to know that you’ve been here and seen it. Let’s take a picture instead!”

I got up about five minutes later and went over to the same carved section and took a picture. The little girl watched me and I smiled at her. She came closer to see what I was looking at and I said to her and to the tree, “I’m going to photograph this tree and remember it without having to hurt it with a knife. I’m sad that these people scarred the tree with their names. I’ll bet the tree is sad too. I’m glad it didn’t kill it!” Her family was out of ear shot and she was just close enough to me that she heard me but didn’t appear to be talking to a stranger. The perfect distance and the perfect proximity.

I smiled at her again and she looked at me with eyes that had clearly understood what I meant but I didn’t dwell there, on the conversation or in the location. I just touched the tree with my hand and thanked it for surviving and turned and walked away.

I don’t have kids of my own, but I do enjoy those moments when other people’s kids open their ears to other people’s ideas. May a fine balance of all kinds of perspectives work their way into their future, unique philosophies. (Of course, the parents reading this probably don’t enjoy these moments. I guess it’s all about the location from which we see things!)

I spent a good part of my day with that tree. I took the time to be close because I know that I’ll soon be far. It was inspiring to see its growth – so many directions and yet never too far from the core, the heart, the source.

Life is life that, I think. We can be safe without being shut in and stifled.

We can be multi-faceted without collapse and over-extension.

We can always learn new ways to survive.

Time.

(Even scarred.)

* Check out this link for some interesting tidbits regarding how they got it to grow this way.

Truly Explosive Holidays

by Brett Atkinson on

This week’s the anniversary of the eruption of Pompei. On August 24 AD 79, Mount Vesuvius near Naples erupted to destroy the towns of Pompei and Herculaneum creating a legend that scared a young Kiwi at bedtime for longer than he’d like to admit. (It didn’t really matter that the mountain I grew up under in Rotorua, New Zealand was actually extinct).

A recent post on Forbes Traveler listed the top ten volcanic adventures for the intrepid globetrotter. Here’s their top three.

  1. Kilauea in Hawaii. Since 1983 the 4091 foot peak has been putting on a spectacular show.
  2. Mount Liamuiga in St Kitts. You’ll need to travel for six hours through rainforest to reach the summit.
  3. Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania . Technically it’s not an active volcano, but you can spy hot magma at 1300 beneath the summit. Count on a 5 day hike to conquer Africa’s highest peak.

Here’s three more I’ve been lucky enough to experience.

  1. Mount Kelimutu on the Indonesian island of Flores. There are 3 different crater lakes, all a different colour.
  2. Mount Cotopaxi in Ecuador. The most fun you’ll have mountain biking from the snowline to a temperate forest.
  3. Mount Yasur on Tanna island in Vanuatu. The most fun you’ll have mountain biking on a South Pacific island.

Thanks to Matthew Winterburn on Flickr for the pic of Kelimutu.

Where on Earth Week 20: Adršpach-Teplice Rocks – Czech Republic

by Brett Atkinson on

Well done neil_metblogs. You covered absolutely all the bases to give a correct answer. The “Rock Towns” of Adršpach and Teplice in Northern Bohemia aren’t as well known as the similar sandstone formations further west in the Cesky Raj region of the Czech Republic, but for my money they’re actually more spectacular.

While researching the latest edition of Lonely Planet’s Czech & Slovak Republics book I had the chance to check both regions out. Despite it being April, there was still a lot of snow on the ground – especially when I trekked the 3km trail along Wolf Gorge that joins the Adršpach and Teplice regions.

Lucky I could dive into the Pension Skaly for beer and schnitzel. Sometimes the simple things in life are the best.

Life at Latitude 59: On Top of Mt. Alice

by Catherine Bodry on
There are many wonderful things about living in Seward, Alaska. Besides the astounding natural beauty, there’s the small-town camaraderie, the pride residents have in being one of the few that stay for the winter, and the All-American feel of the old downtown. It’s what I consider an authentic town, meaning it’s cute in an unpolished way. Sometimes the wind blows the smell of the fish processing plant downtown, and other times coal dust from rail cars transporting coal to waiting ships blankets the town. It’s not just a tourist town; it’s industrial, and a little bit gritty. Seward is a 2-hour drive south of Anchorage, which is far enough to feel separate from the big city, but close enough that if you need to head to Anchorage for just a day, you can. Cruise ships stop here, and the touristy Alaska Railroad carts tourists to and from Anchorage. But it’s easy to escape the hordes.

Probably my favorite part about being in Seward is its proximity to phenomenal trails. Within a 15-minute drive is the trailhead to Exit Glacier and the Harding Ice Field, the famous Mt. Marathon (hosting an infamous 4th of July race), and the 15-mile Lost Lake traverse. It’s a rare evening when I don’t run or hike a trail. We Sewardites even get on the trails during the winter.

It’s rainy here, so perfect hiking days can be rare. My husband Lael and I took advantage of one such sunny day last week and climbed up Mt. Alice, the tallest mountain in Seward.

The trail up Alice is not maintained and is a bit of a local secret. There’s no trailhead, just an inconspicuous turn-off. As you start your hike, you’re in a forest of mossy Hemlocks, with blueberries scattered around.

The climb is steep, gaining 3000 feet from sea level to the end of the trail, and you emerge from the forest in an alpine meadow with only half of your climb behind you. From there, you follow a sharp ridge sometimes balancing on the edge of the cliff — or so it seems. Dall sheep wander the hillside and leave their wool in tufts on the rocks.

The trail ends when the meadows do, and you’re left to clamber over boulders and snow patches. You can’t get to the actual top of Alice as it becomes too technical for a mere hike. But you do get quite close; you can see the ridges and cracks in the small glaciers below her face.

We found a tarn hidden amongst the rocks; Lael took a quick swim, and I waded to my waist and eventually dunked my head. It was surprisingly cold for being so small, but tiny snow patches still dripped into the water so I guess it doesn’t get as much sun as it seem to on that bright day.

After the swim, with our shorts wet and bodies cooled off, we descended the mountain. We had blisters and sore thighs, but we also saw about 4 people on the mountain the whole day so it was a worthwhile journey. Even though it’s only August, fall is rapidly approaching and there’s a general feeling of “seize the sunny day” around town. Suddenly, it’s dark at night and you have to turn your car headlights on as early as 10p.m. I know that in the dead of winter I’ll cling to this bright day, because it’s so hard to imagine Alice without snow 8 months out of the year.

Thrill-Seekers Bored, Seeking New Thrills

by Catherine Bodry on

If sky diving puts you to sleep, base jumping causes you to sign mournfully, and the thought of big-air freestyle [insert sport here] prompts a single tear, then Incredible Adventures might offer something to cheer you up.

Catering to the kind of adrenalin junkie who can’t get high off the same old junk anymore, Incredible Adventures offers the chance to fly a L-39 fighter jet with a Hollywood stunt pilot, swim with sharks, and drive a genuine race car.

You can take it to the next level and reenact your Top Gun fantasies. That just might be worth the $6,000 price-tag.

For more info on how to live dangerously, check out Forbes’ article on the best vacations for thrill-seekers, plus their slide show of some of the scarier adventures available.